The Undead Day Eighteen

by RR Haywood

  She calmed Howie down earlier so she has that ability to get through to him. She can ease that biting urge he has to kill and destroy them one by one. It’s manipulation but not evilly done.

  ‘I’ll talk to him later,’ she says.

  ‘Who?’ Reginald asks without looking up.

  ‘Howie. About changing our direction.’

  ‘You will?’ Reginald says looking up with a look of surprise.

  She nods, ‘yeah, I’ll get through to him. We should be going for a cure.’

  ‘Yes,’ Reginald says blinking again before turning to look down once again, ‘perhaps that is your role. To drive us in the right direction and give Mr Howie focus where no other can.’

  ‘Now?’ She asks, ‘should I talk to him now? Maybe we shouldn’t go to Stenbury but…’

  ‘Marcy,’ Reginald says sitting upright inhaling deeply, ‘as much as I desire to avoid any confrontation and to be seeking a way to end all of this…we cannot, with any conscience, leave such a number of infected persons in one place. The consequences could be catastrophic beyond anything we could imagine. Look at what you were able to do with hundreds. This town may have thousands or indeed upwards of ten thousand.’

  ‘Reggie,’ she balks at his words wide eyed and not recognising the small man in glasses, ‘you want to fight them?’

  ‘We have no choice. We are committed to this game. The other player…the infection has massed thousands in response to our course of conduct and the actions we have taken. If we do not see it through they will be left to commit destruction on a scale that is staggering in comprehension and in so doing they could get larger and far increase the level of threat they pose. They must be killed. This game must be finished.’ He stops and looks at briefly at the monitor, ‘Paula? Two minutes ahead there will be a junction on the left leading to a farm.’

  ‘Okay,’ Paula shouts and Marcy listens as the information is relayed while feeling ten steps behind everyone else.

  Day Eighteen

  Update No 6

  Flitcombe.

  I have counted in excess of four hundred corpses.

  Hacked apart by blades. Cut with scalpels. Chains were used to smash them down and their dogs used to rip them apart while arrows were fired to kill with brutal precision. Assault rifle shell casings show the line they fought from and larger calibre bullets too.

  I do not understand what I am seeing. Why fight hand to hand if you have guns? This is the first time I have seen the larger calibre bullet casings and even now, with so many killed they still stopped to have target practise with their bows. Perhaps that is the reason they chose to fight hand to hand…for practise?

  Water on the ground where they drank. Every door to every house forced and every house searched. You can still see the blood smears on the walls as the soldiers have walked through and I know I am close as the blood on the ground still runs wet and glistening.

  Do I want to find these people? I am no longer confident that this is the right thing to do but I also know I must continue and find them. One of them is immune.

  The List. That is all that matters now. I must harden myself.

  Jess grows weary. We have covered a great distance and this heat and humidity are unbearable. She keeps working though and it’s almost as though she has her own determination to find these people.

  I will go on but I now dread the next sight I will encounter.

  NB

  Twenty-Two

  ‘That must be it,’ Clarence says pointing to the open gated entrance leading to an unmade road. I slow down and take the turn easing the vehicle onto the bumpy road. The village we passed on the way, the leap-frogged town, was small with barely a main street with a village shop. Still, if nothing else it will help funnel them and there were plenty of abandoned cars left about that we can use.

  ‘So,’ Charlie says to Mo, ‘what are we going to do now?’

  ‘We are going to a farm to launch a drone I say,’ Mo says still trying to speak posh.

  ‘You don’t have to say I say every time, Mo,’ she says with a laugh.

  ‘Do Mo’s voice again,’ Cookey urges Charlie, who in the interest of fair play, had tried speaking street as Mo tried posh.

  ‘Gosh no, once is enough for me.’

  ‘Ah go on,’ Nick says.

  ‘Innit,’ Charlie quips, ‘brother.’

  ‘Bruv,’ Mo says laughing, ‘not brother.’

  ‘Oh I thought it was brother.’

  ‘Bruv you get me yeah?’

  ‘You get me,’ she says.

  ‘Deeper,’ Mo says.

  ‘You get me bruv?’ She says deeper.

  ‘Nah like rougher, like…you get me bruv?’

  ‘You’s get me bruv innit…’

  ‘Perfect!’ Mo shouts clapping his hands, ‘totally spot on I say.’

  ‘Yeah I is speaking street now,’ Charlie says holding that deep raspier voice.

  ‘Yes that is very good,’ Mo says lifting his voice up a few notches and pronouncing every letter.

  ‘We’s the feds yeah?’

  ‘We are the authority,’ Mo replies.

  ‘Yo gangsta innit,’ Charlie reels it off quickly, ‘yo’s gonna bump a hat in yo kneecap.’

  ‘What?’ Clarence asks bursting out laughing, ‘what was that?’

  ‘Street innit bruv,’ Charlie says, ‘yo’s bumping hats in yo kneecaps.’

  ‘I say,’ Mo says between laughs, ‘I do think you mean you are going to pop a cap in someone’s backside.’

  ‘You’s what? I mean what? I mean pardon?’

  ‘Pop a cap in your ass,’ Mo says still laughing, ‘not bump a hat in a kneecap.’

  ‘Oh did I get it wrong?’ Charlie sighs, ‘damnation. You say it,’ she says to Mo.

  ‘Nah.’

  ‘No do, you say it.’

  ‘You’s want me to talk street bruv?’ He goes full on raspy and deep, ‘you’s dissin’ me yeah? You’s disrespectin’ me? Yo pop a cap in yo ass motherfucker.’

  ‘Oh yes!’ Cookey shouts in the din, ‘bloody brilliant.’

  ‘Oh that is so cool,’ Charlie says.

  ‘Is it cool is it I say?’ Mo asks switching back to posh.

  ‘We’re here,’ I say driving past the farmhouse and staring round at the barns and outbuildings, ‘switch on now, we’ve got a farmhouse, a barn and two old shitty looking sheds.’

  ‘Mr Howie, I will take Mohammed and do the farmhouse.’

  ‘Righto, mate. Blowers, you take Cookey and do the barn. Nick and Blinky on the sheds. Charlie, you start getting the drone set up while Clarence and I do management stuff and have a meeting about forecasts and such like.’

  ‘It’s hot and will stay hot but it might rain,’ Clarence says looking out the window before opening his door and feeling the wall of heat, ‘yep, it’s hot.’

  We clamber out with weapons held ready scanning the vicinity and slowly easing away from the vehicles. Roy brings his van to a stop and is out and scanning within a second or two with his rifle gripped and ready.

  ‘Dave, you doing the farmhouse?’ Paula asks seeing them walk towards the main door.

  ‘Yes, Paula.’

  ‘Call me if the gas supply is still on, we’ll brew up here.’

  ‘Yes, Paula.’

  ‘Howie…’

  ‘Ssshhh,’ Roy waves at her then touches his ear before motioning round.

  ‘Sorry,’ she whispers and we wait while Blowers gets the barn clear and Nick tentatively checks the big sheds that look like they’ll fall down any second.

  Charlie stands her ground on one side holding her rifle while Marcy holds at the back of Roy’s van.

  ‘Mo,’ I transmit quietly into the microphone, ‘you feeling anything?’

  ‘Nothing, Mr Howie.’

  ‘Cheers, Nick? What about Meredith? She with you?’

  ‘Same. She’s taking a piss at the moment.’

  ‘We’re clear in the barn.’

  ‘Cheers, Blowe
rs…Charlie, you can start getting it ready.’

  ‘Dave, did you check the gas?’ Paula asks into her radio.

  ‘Give him a chance,’ I say with a smile.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Yes you checked it or yes the gas is on?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Which one yes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Dave, is the gas on?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Ha, it’s funny when it’s someone else,’ I say as Meredith comes bounding over wagging her tail like she hasn’t seen anyone for days on end. She gets a big fuss while we drift over to the back of Roy’s van and watch Charlie and Reginald setting up.

  ‘Boss,’ Nick says handing me a smoke.

  ‘Cheers, you’re quiet,’ I say to Marcy standing nearby.

  ‘Thinking,’ she says.

  ‘Oh, what about?’

  ‘Things,’ she says, ‘Paula, do you want me to make the coffees?’

  ‘You can help me if you want,’ Paula replies in a clipped tone that has the rest of us looking everywhere but at her.

  ‘Want a hand?’ Nick asks starting to walk after them.

  ‘We’ll be fine thanks, Nick,’ Paula says.

  ‘Okay then,’ Nick says turning back round pulling a face.

  ‘What happened?’ I ask Reginald, ‘Reginald? What happened?’

  ‘Hmm?’ He asks engrossed in the monitor on his desk.

  ‘Fuck me, did Marcy and Paula fall out?’

  ‘Minor disagreement,’ Roy says, ‘I am sure they’ll sort it out.’

  ‘What was it about?’ I ask staring at the two of them going through the open farmhouse door then seeing Dave and Mo come out.

  ‘I didn’t hear it all,’ Roy says, ‘but something to do with Marcy wondering what role she has here.’

  ‘This heat makes everyone fractious,’ Clarence says.

  ‘Mr Howie, can I use the toilet please, Mr Howie?’

  ‘You don’t have to ask, Blinky.’

  ‘Okay,’ she says standing there.

  I sigh again and rub the back of my neck, ‘yes you can use the toilet.’

  ‘Thanks, Mr Howie,’ she says turning smartly.

  ‘I’ll use the barn,’ Clarence says heading off.

  ‘Yeah good idea,’ Blowers says. Nick, Cookey and Mo walk after him as Roy heads off to the shed leaving me watching Charlie and Reginald with Meredith trying to work out who to follow.

  ‘Come here,’ I click my tongue and she trots over as I drop to a crouch and start rubbing the top of her head, ‘good girl, who’s a good girl?’

  She snaps her mouth open and closed a few times making little excited whining noises before suddenly deciding getting fuss from me isn’t as important as being near Nick and the lads.

  I move to the back of Roy’s van and sit on the ledge of the open rear door smoking my cigarette and shifting uncomfortably as the sweat starts seeping out my forehead to roll down my nose. If this was normal times the news and weather people would be going nuts at this weather. It’s so fucking hot and humid, like there’s no air and the sky is pressing down giving me a low dull headache in the back of my skull.

  Five hundred killed in twenty seven minutes. Clarence reckons we got about twelve hundred before that so that’s one thousand seven hundred people we have killed today. Not people. Things. Infected things. Don’t think of them as people. Don’t think about the lives they had and the love they felt. Don’t think about the children and the homes. Not people. Things and I will kill every last one of them.

  ‘Are you okay, Mr Howie?’

  ‘Eh?’ I look up startled to see Charlie staring over at me, ‘yeah miles away, you ready?’

  ‘Battery was drained. We’ve just put the charged one in and starting again.’

  ‘Reginald, it’s Marcy. Do you want Camomile or Darjeeling? We’ve got both.’

  ‘Can you tell her I would like Camomile please?’

  ‘He said he wants Camomile,’ I transmit.

  Charlie and Reginald chat quietly while I rest in the shade and listen to the others filing back from the barn and shed. It’s only afternoon and we’re on track for a bloody good result today. I think ahead to Stenbury and although I don’t know the layout or the numbers I feel comfortably confident that we’ll win. We’ve got Dave, Clarence and Paula to plan and the rest of us to execute. Reginald is coming into his own and Charlie is great the way she watches and questions things thereby making us think.

  In my head a plan is already forming. Of me and Dave walking into the town side by side as cocky as you like and chopping a few down before appearing to become overwhelmed and dropping back to a firing line. If we get the width right and prevent them flanking us we’ll be able to cut hundreds down within a few minutes before another tactical retreat that looks like we’re falling back under pressure.

  We’ll lead them back through that tiny village and find another pinch point to use as a firing line then back down the country roads to Flitcombe and through the industrial estates or whatever those three sections are. With luck we’ll find gas bottles and trucks, fuel and an electric supply from generators and some barbed wire. Dave can cook up some nasty bombs with a few basic ingredients. Proper guerrilla tactics. Hit and run and wither them down as we go. Ammunition we’ve got lots off. Grenades too and if the worse comes to the worse we’ll tell Dave they all called him a twat.

  Then what? Get through today first then find somewhere for the night to rest and worry about everything else later. One day at a time.

  ‘Mr Howie, the drone is ready.’

  ‘Thanks, Charlie. We’ll wait for the others.’

  ‘We’re here,’ Clarence says looming over me.

  ‘Paula and Marcy are still brewing up,’ I say.

  ‘Fair enough.’

  I stand up and yawn with a big stretch and stare idly at Reginald at his desk in the van, ‘you okay, mate?’

  ‘Pardon?’ He says looking round quickly, ‘are you talking to me?’

  ‘I am, you okay?’

  ‘I am fine, Mr Howie.’

  ‘Seems to be going well so far today.’

  ‘Indeed, yes. Yes so far it appears to be working. Perhaps after this victory we should give consideration to the next course of action.’

  ‘Yep, worry about that tonight. Let’s get through today first.’

  ‘Yes of course.’

  ‘Aye up chuckies,’ Cookey says, ‘there are two beautiful women walking towards us.’

  ‘Eh?’ I turn back to see Marcy and Paula carrying trays of mugs from the farmhouse, ‘coffee…coffee…coffee,’ I stride towards Marcy staring at the tray in her hands, ‘any?’ I ask.

  ‘Just wait and let me put them down.’

  ‘Nah can’t wait…any?’

  ‘Howie, just hang on a second,’ she says moving out of my reach. I follow close behind her muttering the word coffee over and over.

  ‘Reggie, your tea is here,’ she says carefully lowering the tray down ono the ledge at the back of Roy’s van.

  ‘Coffee…which one?’

  ‘For the love of…yes this is yours…’ she says handing me a mug.

  ‘Cheers,’ I grasp the mug, offer a grin and move away passing Nick holding a cigarette out for me. ‘Righto my chaps, we launching the drone then?’

  ‘Let Charlie have her coffee first,’ Paula says giving me a reproving stare.

  ‘Can I do it?’ Marcy asks, ‘Nick? Will you show me how?’

  ‘Sure,’ Nick says.

  ‘Can I do the camera?’ Cookey asks.

  ‘You going to mess about?’ I ask.

  ‘If I say no can I do it?’

  ‘Go on then but don’t piss about and drain the battery.’

  ‘I promise.’

  ‘Seriously, Cookey,’ Nick says, ‘the batteries take ages to charge.’

  ‘I said I promise. I’ll be proper serious. Reginald?’ He says getting into the van, ‘will you show me how to do it?’

  ‘Yo
u have permission from Mr Howie?’

  ‘He just said I could.’

  ‘I was not listening. I was drinking Camomile tea.’

  ‘Oh. Is it nice?’

  ‘Yes it is very nice.’

  ‘What’s it do?’

  ‘Soothes my mind.’

  ‘Oh. Does your mind need soothing then?’

  ‘Yes. I have a troubled mind at the best of times.’

  ‘Wanking is good for that.’

  ‘Alex!’

  ‘Alex!’

  ‘Cookey!’

  ‘What? I was just saying.’

  ‘Such a dick,’ Blowers snorts turning away to laugh quietly, ‘wanking…’

  ‘It is,’ Cookey protests, ‘like scientists said so and everything.’

  ‘It is actually,’ Roy says seriously which just sets Blowers off even more. ‘Ejaculation releases endorphins into the body which… are you okay, Blowers?’

  ‘Fine,’ he gasps bending forward trying to keep his coffee from spilling.

  ‘Does it work for women?’ Blinky asks.

  ‘I don’t know but, but well I should think it probably does,’ Roy says thoughtfully.

  ‘Yes it does,’ Marcy says staring down at the controls in her hands, ‘this looks really complicated…what?’ She asks looking up to everyone staring at her, ‘it does look complicated.’

  ‘Cookey close your mouth, lad, you’re almost dribbling,’ Clarence mutters.

  ‘Roger,’ he says snapping back to the present, ‘what am I doing in here?’

  ‘Camera, drone,’ I say trying to rid the image in my own mind as much as everyone else.

  ‘Ah yeah, Reggie? That okay?’

  ‘Not if you call me Reggie.’

  ‘Sorry, Reginald.’

  ‘Thank you and yes, sit down and please do not move the maps.’

  ‘Nick? Charlie?’ Marcy asks, ‘what do I do?’

  They explain the controls going through each button and stick while Reginald does the same to Cookey.