The Undead Day Eighteen

by RR Haywood

  ‘Whoa,’ Cookey says stepping back and immediately looking to Paula.

  ‘Now hang on,’ Paula says holding her hands out.

  ‘He’s immune,’ the woman with the child blurts.

  ‘We’re not sure if he is immune or not,’ Paula says trying to wave everyone to be quiet, ‘please, he was just joking about…’

  ‘Joking? He can’t fucking joke now…’

  ‘He said he was immune.’

  ‘Are you immune?’ A middle aged man demands, ‘are you or not?’

  ‘Oh fuck,’ Cookey says backing away.

  ‘Make my children immune…do it…’

  ‘And my son…please, do something for him.’

  ‘Enough,’ Marcy snaps striding into the centre of the room, ‘that is enough. Most of us are immune and no, we do not pass our immunity by kissing or touching or doing anything…’

  She gets drowned out by voices clamouring to be heard that get louder with shrill panicked demands for her to do something. Some turn on Paula throwing questions thick and fast while others still shout at Cookey then at Marcy.

  ‘Dave,’ Marcy says.

  ‘SILENCE.’

  Wow. That did it. The whole room drops into sudden quiet broken only by the pop of Dave’s rifle as he protects Reginald and the other man using the hose.

  ‘We do not have time for this,’ Marcy says, ‘do as Paula said. Get water and be ready to move and believe us, if we could make your children immune we would. But we cannot.’

  I glance at Clarence who lifts his eyebrows, ‘can she?’ He asks in a low voice.

  ‘Pass immunity?’ I ask back keeping my voice down, ‘probably not.’

  ‘She did Lani who turned back to normal.’

  ‘Yeah then went mad and tried to blow me up with a grenade while we were having sex.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he says rubbing his chin, ‘that’s a good point. Wall then?’

  ‘Go on,’ I go behind him as he heads back to the wall he was beating down before we got distracted by climbing zombies.

  I leave him to it and head back into the main room noticing the staggering difference between us and the other people. How we just did something so horrible and nasty yet we’re back on our feet and already preparing for the next issue that will no doubt arise. The survivors cry and sob, some remain stunned and stare into space. Others talk fast nodding and shake as the adrenalin wears off and I notice the compartmentalising in my own head. They are survivors and they fit into the box marked survivors. We are the team. They are survivors. We rescue them and they should be quiet. Fuck. That ain’t right but right now it’s the option we use because we need focus and a few minutes to breathe and gain some normalcy before it starts again.

  I move into the room getting ready to say something and explain what we’re trying to do but Marcy cuts me off rushing in front of me and pushing me back into the room with Clarence.

  ‘Nick, Blowers and Cookey with me please,’ she says over her shoulder pointing for me to go through.

  ‘Yeah what’s up?’ Nick asks handing me a cigarette.

  ‘Cheers, Nick.’

  ‘You were all biting them,’ Marcy says turning Nick on the spot and taking a bottle of water from his bag, ‘you look like monsters, get cleaned up.’ She turns Nick back round to face her, ‘mouth closed,’ she tells him pouring water over his face and using her hand to rub and sluice the blood and gore away. ‘Blowers,’ she says moving over to him, ‘close your mouth,’ she does him next then Cookey and finally onto me rubbing the blood away with another bottle of water before standing back and checking each of us, ‘that’ll have to do.’

  ‘You were biting them,’ I say looking at her clean chin.

  ‘Er yeah but I washed it off,’ she says obviously, ‘I can’t believe we just did that.’

  ‘What biting them?’ Nick asks, ‘Mr Howie does it all the time.’

  ‘I do not do it all the time.’

  ‘Well, you done it a few times now.’

  ‘Yeah but like…yeah I have…but only when I needed to do it.’

  ‘Well yeah,’ he says.

  ‘Not like I want to bite them. It’s fucking gross.’

  ‘Telling me,’ Blowers says, ‘that hot shit spurting in your mouth…oh fuck off, Cookey.’

  ‘What? You said it,’ Cookey laughs.

  ‘Can we get diseases from doing that?’ Nick asks.

  ‘What other than catching zombie, dickhead?’ Cookey asks.

  ‘No, fucktard. I mean other diseases.’

  ‘No. You can’t,’ Marcy says firmly.

  ‘Okay,’ he says accepting her answer without question, ‘cool, can we smoke now?’

  ‘Go ahead, Paula do you want one?’ She calls out.

  ‘Bloody right I do,’ she says walking in, ‘and I give it two minutes before someone moans about us smoking near children.’

  ‘Could open a window,’ Cookey says.

  ‘But, I thought diseases were carried in blood,’ Nick says after inhaling his first drag.

  ‘They are but. No. You will not catch anything. I promise.’

  ‘Okay,’ Nick says accepting the next round of argument in his usual chilled way but clearly going back to thinking about it.

  ‘Reginald…time to go…go now…GO NOW.’ Roy speaks into our ears urging Reginald to leave.

  ‘Let’s go,’ I follow the others back into the now destroyed main room and over to the window to see the infected have turned like a school of fish and are now charging wholly across the square, ‘fire into them,’ I bite the cigarette between my teeth, tilt my head to keep the smoke from my eyes and fire into the square. Still so many of them and we are far from safe and the last few minutes of pissing about now stings my pride. This day is far from done and that pressing urgency is right there as we go back to work.

  *

  They do not need telling twice and in unison they drop the hose and run back to the fire engine having seen the instant turn and charge of thousands of undead switching direction at once.

  Neal rushes to the driver’s side while Reginald gets to the still open passenger door and throws his rifle in before clambering up and slamming the door closed. What he sees when he looks back out the window are hundreds of dead bodies but yet many more alive and on their feet still raging and the knowledge that they have bought only time and not saved the day settles heavy on his heart.

  ‘Which way?’ Neal says slamming his door.

  ‘Into the square,’ Reginald says hardly believing the words just came from his mouth. Neal doesn’t reply but slams the stick into drive and jolts forward to turn in the crossroads and heads back into the square for one final run.

  Having dropped the hose it automatically stopped spraying as the shut off sprang back into place. Now rigid and the hose sticks out from the side acting as a whip that slams through the infected as they speed back onto the square driving through and over the infected in one frantic run to the end before they turn and head back. They kill scores and take more out with broken bones but still it’s not enough.

  On the way out and Reginald watches via the big wing mirror as they give chase streaming behind as the fastest ones make the best progress. His hand snaps out jabbing the sirens that warble to life in that long sad cry of high then low.

  ‘Go slow and straight down this road,’ he says cursing this new found sense of bravery, ‘perhaps we can draw a few away.’

  Neal looks to his own wing mirror that is bloodied and dripping gore with a chunk of hairy scalp flapping in the wind hanging down. Such a day. A day of days and he only hopes that what little they have done helps those inside. With that thought in mind he slows down easing the power off until the big engine glides to a gentle stop. He waits with his left hand easing the stick into position and judging the timing from the view in the wing mirror.

  ‘Now?’ He asks still ever so politely.

  ‘I would say so,’ Reginald says.

  Into reverse and foot hard down. The e
ngine screams and jolts back mowing another score down that impact on the hard metal end of the frame and get squashed under the wheels to be dragged bleeding and broken. Stop, forward gear and again they move off with the siren now the cry of an ice cream van drawing the hordes to the promise of the snack inside.

  ‘Shall we do that again?’

  ‘Oh I don’t see why not,’ Reginald says winding his window down to lean out, ‘we got a good few that time.’

  ‘Do you want to tell your comrades we’ll try and lure some away.’

  ‘Good suggestion, Mr Howie. It is Reginald. Can you see what we are doing?’

  ‘Yep, good work, Reginald but don’t go too slow, you’ve got several hundred right behind you…and who is that with you?’

  ‘Neal. He is a scientist.’

  ‘A scientist? What kind of scientist?’

  ‘I do not know, what kind of scientist are you?’ Reginald asks.

  Neal glances over and smiles a tight smile, ‘may I explain later?’

  ‘Mr Howie. Neal wishes to explain later.’

  ‘Right. That’s er…yep whatever. Keep them after you and we’ll do what we can this end. Did you find us a way out? Oh and a bus. Did you find a bus?’

  ‘No I did not. I was rather busy doing practical rescuing rather than theoretical strategy formation…’

  ‘Ah you did well, Marcy said she’s proud of you.’

  ‘I did not say that, Reggie. I said you’ve finally grown a pair of bollocks.’

  ‘Ah yes, as always you are as poetic as you are beautiful, Marcy.’

  ‘Is that a compliment? Howie, was that a compliment?’

  ‘Mr Howie, there is a supermarket north of your location with what looked to be a fuel station within a large parking area. That is as far as I was able to view. It may be of use to you.’

  ‘Cheers, Reginald. Don’t risk yourselves. Draw them out as long as you can but do not put yourself at risk. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Howie. Understood. Good luck.’ He slowly lowers the radio as the fire engine comes to another gradual stop that serves to entice the infected towards the back. A pause, a longer pause and reverse is taken with the pedal slammed down and the following jolts, bumps and pings speak of another decent set of kills given and onwards they go. Doing what little they can.

  *

  ‘Weird fucking day,’ I mutter to myself and find a big glass of water being held up by a young boy, ‘thanks,’ I say taking the water, ‘how old are you?’

  ‘Ten,’ he replies quietly while I down the glass.

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Darren.’

  ‘Yeah?’ I ask taking care not to spray the water from my mouth, ‘not Darren Smith is it?’

  ‘No,’ he says staring up at me, ‘are you immune?’

  ‘Yes I am.’

  ‘Can you make me immune?’

  ‘No, Darren. It doesn’t work like that. Sorry, mate.’

  ‘What about my sister?’

  ‘No mate, if I could I promise you I would.’

  ‘How did you get immune?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Was it medicine?’

  ‘No, mate. I think I just am immune. Like naturally. I’m not sure.’

  ‘Will we die?’

  I finish the water and drop the empty glass from my mouth, ‘not today.’

  ‘Do you promise?’

  ‘Yeah. Yeah I promise.’

  ‘I helped,’ he blurts as though afraid the conversation is over, ‘I pushed with everyone and helped.’

  ‘That’s good. I felt you pushing, you’re strong.’

  ‘Howie,’ Paula says from the other room, ‘Clarence is almost through.’

  ‘Okay, I have to go back to work but you stay with your mum yeah?’

  ‘My mum died.’

  ‘Shit, really? I’m so sorry. Er, you with your dad then?’

  ‘He died too. Mum bit him.’

  ‘Fuck! Sorry, I shouldn’t swear. Who are you with then?’

  ‘Lorraine, she was our neighbour.’

  ‘Oh right, well stay close to Lorraine then…er…good lad,’ I nod and go to pat him on the shoulder then flounder for a second and rush off giving him another manly nod instead then blush from my own utter crass stupidity.

  ‘MIND OUT THE BLOODY WAY,’ Clarence shouts at the wall.

  ‘I don’t think shouting will make it fall down.’

  ‘Very funny,’ Clarence says turning to look at me, ‘they’re on the other side.’

  ‘Yeah that’s the whole point isn’t it?’

  ‘You turned into Cookey?’ He asks gripping the sledgehammer.

  ‘Sorry, just hit it. They’ll soon move.’

  ‘You’re the boss,’ he grunts and hits the blocks which explode out into the hallway of the next building then steps back and starts booting the remaining wall down.

  ‘Hello chaps,’ a clipped voice sounds out followed by a dusty head poking through the gap made in the wall, ‘it’s all going on isn’t it. Need a hand do you?’

  ‘Er no I’m fine, just step back so I can get this wall down.’

  ‘Right you are. Carry on then,’ the man says brightly pulling back and out of view, ‘all clear this side.’

  Clarence pauses closing his eyes for a second at the surrealness of this day before exploding out and attacking the last few blocks with unrestrained malice.

  ‘GO ON!’ The voice shouts from the other side, ‘have at it.’

  ‘Mr Howie, they’re coming back,’ Charlie says leaning into the doorway behind me.

  ‘Okay, we’re going straight through. Get everyone ready and keep people posted on the windows.’

  ‘Sir,’ she says rushing off.

  ‘Not Sir,’ I shout after her, ‘just Howie,’ I mutter to myself.

  ‘We’re through,’ Clarence says pushing his body through the hole.

  ‘Mind out, grab some water I’ll check ahead.’

  He pulls back as I hear Paula and Marcy urging everyone to their feet and the sound of assault rifles firing sustained bursts from the windows. Through the ragged gap and into a communal hallway of the next building. A quick look down the stairs shows me the main street door is bolted and barred so I rush into the open door to the first floor apartment and into the main room to find a dozen or so people stood at the back of the room in two neat lines. All of them quiet and although they look terrified there is a calmness in the air and not one of them starts screaming or throwing questions.

  ‘Major Hawthorn,’ the man who stuck his head through the hole steps smartly in front of me and snaps out an even smarter salute, ‘retired of course,’ he adds with a stiff nod.

  ‘Wow,’ I mouth at the difference from this room to the last, ‘er…how many in here?’

  ‘Twelve,’ he says in a deep voice so clipped and precise, ‘all watered, fed and ready to move out.’

  ‘Mr Howie?’ Nick shouts from the hallway, ‘you in there?’

  ‘In here,’ I call out.

  ‘Everyone’s ready,’ he says rushing into the room and doing the same double take at the neat lines of people, ‘fucking hell, oh shit, sorry for swearing,’ he adds quickly with an apologetic nod to the man stood with me.

  ‘Pah! Don’t apologise to me,’ the man booms heartily, ‘reassuring to hear the colourful language from the troops I always say. Rank?’

  ‘Eh?’ Nick asks, ‘oh…er?’ He looks at me quizzically.

  ‘We’re not the ar…um…’

  ‘Private, Sir,’ Nick says standing straight, ‘in a way.’

  ‘Backbone of the army, good for you,’ Major Hawthorn states to everyone in the room.

  ‘Boss,’ Clarence shouts coming through the hole in the wall, ‘few hundred gone after Reginald the rest are going for the street doors,’ he bustles into the room blanching at the sight that caught me and Nick out then clapping eyes on the Major.

  ‘Major Hawthorn,’ Major Hawthorn booms.

  ‘Sir,
’ Clarence booms bringing his feet together and snapping out a salute as smart as the one Major Hawthorn did, ‘Sergeant. Parachute Regiment.’

  ‘Parachute Regiment you say, by damned I knew it would be my old lot, either that or the Marines. Damned bloody Marines.’

  ‘Damned Marines,’ Clarence replies smartly, ‘bastards.’

  ‘Rotters the bloody lot of them. Bloody navy boys.’

  ‘Easy now,’ another old man at the head of the two lines adds his own booming voice to the fray.

  ‘Thompson was a Marine,’ Major Hawthorn explains, ‘isn’t that right, Thompson? Eh? Joined the wrong bloody lot. Must have been drunk when he signed up I say.’

  ‘We saved your backsides enough bloody times,’ Thompson retorts striding over, ‘Captain Thompson. Royal Marines. Retired. At your service,’ he says gripping my hand firmly then swapping to Nick and Clarence. ‘Who is commanding?’ He asks.

  ‘Mr Howie is,’ Clarence says nodding at me.

  ‘Regiment?’ Major Hawthorn asks.

  ‘Tesco,’ I reply watching them both become instantly confused, ‘I wasn’t in the services.’

  ‘Mr Howie is the finest leader I have served under,’ Clarence says brusquely as though in defence at my own self-effacing explanation.

  ‘Reserves?’ Captain Thompson asks.

  ‘Nope, just Tesco.’

  ‘Mr Howie,’ Blowers shouts coming into the room with Cookey, Mo and Blinky right behind him, ‘can we set up at the windows?’

  ‘Go for it.’

  ‘Get on it,’ Blowers orders, ‘get the glass out and start firing down. Nick, you with us?’

  ‘Yep,’ Nick says joining the others as they start smashing the windows out.

  ‘Mr Howie,’ Blowers says to me, ‘that bloke is still on the GPMG with Roy feeding the belt but he needs to come off, he can’t aim for shit and he’s wasting ammunition. I’ve told Roy to take over but we need Roy with his bow if any break through and get past Dave.’

  ‘Where is Dave now?’

  ‘Still firing from the windows in that last room.’

  ‘Howie, we clear to bring them through?’ Paula shouts.

  ‘Get them in here quick as you can. Clarence, you okay to do the next wall?’

  ‘Yep,’ he strides off with the sledgehammer.