Blood on the Floor: An Undead Adventure

by RR Haywood

  The lounge is dated with an old leather sofa but with the door closed it just smells musty instead of dead bodies and Paco’s unique scent soon takes that over. He still stinks despite the hosing down outside. He needs a good scrub with a stiff brush if she’s going to keep him.

  It’s too dark in here. The net curtains are too thick to let the light come in. She considers pulling them back then spots the open fireplace and thanks the heavens for farmers. Kindling stacked up, logs ready, paper scrunched and resting in a basket to one side. There’s even a box of matches on the mantelpiece. The paper goes in first to be piled with thin kindling. The match lights the paper that ignites and burns to set flame to the kindling, by which time she starts placing smaller dried logs. The very act of setting fire brings the tension down. She sits back to watch the flames grow and eat into the logs. The room fills with warm smells and the crackle of real fire that spills an orange glow to chase the shadows away.

  She eats there. In front of the fire while Paco stands not a few feet away like a sentinel. Silent and watchful. Just one day but already she’s got used to him being there. She opens tins and eats fruit and beans. She eats fish, macaroni cheese and fills quickly. Days of sparse diet have shrunk her stomach lining. She still manages to force some Victoria Sponge cake into her mouth and washes it down with warm coke. The feeling is incredible. A hard day of fear, running, crying and then pushing Paco but now a full stomach after a big meal eaten in front of an open fire. Just the wash now and it could be a half-decent end to the worst day of her life. Maybe you have to have the shit to taste the good? Maybe. She considers that very idea while digesting sleepily and blinking slowly.

  Does Paco need to eat? Do they eat? Other than people that is. She looks up at him for any signs that he’s hungry but he watches her and not the food littered about the room.

  She turns back to the fire. Monsters don’t eat. They kill. Ah but hang on, he collapsed earlier then revived after having water and every living creature needs food. Without food the body will cannibalise and eat itself. Muscles and fat will be absorbed while internal organs are put at risk. She has no clue what changes have been made to his body from being infected but only that she needs him alive and strong. It takes strength to snap necks and throw people about. Paco needs that strength and she needs Paco. Survival at any cost.

  She nods with a decision made and rises to grab a tin of baked beans. She gets the top off and finds a spoon then crosses over to stand in front of him. How the hell do you feed a zombie? What if he snaps and bites her? Ah get off, he would have done it by now if he was going to do that. She loads the spoon and drives it towards his mouth.

  ‘Open up,’ she tells him. His eyes focus at her voice, staring intently but otherwise no reaction. She opens her own mouth hoping he will copy her. He doesn’t. ‘Yum,’ she tells him, nodding at the beans that she sniffs at while making appreciative noises. When he doesn’t do anything she drives the spoon at his mouth and nods while pushing it into his lips. ‘Open,’ she says bluntly. His lips part she smiles. His lips part more and she smiles more. His eyes watch hers. She grins, he opens his mouth wider and that smile grows as she speaks in the nice soft voice. He gets a mouthful of beans that start falling out the second she pulls the spoon clear. ‘Eat,’ she urges in that wonderfully soft voice. She masticates on the spot. Chewing invisible food while smiling, nodding and urging him gently. His jaw moves and her face lights up. He does it again. She grins and nods, ‘come on…good boy,’ she uses the spoon to push a stray bean back in that was about to fall from his lip. ‘Be strong for Heather so you can kill all the other zombies…that’s right…big and strong and dumb as anything…you are aren’t you? Yes? Big and strong and dumb?’ The tone. It’s the tone. His eyes never leave hers as she reaches up to spoon beans into his mouth that get chewed robotically and the first swallow even brings that split second urge back to hug him. Not that she would. He still stinks and he’s still an infected monster.

  She hand feeds him beans. Forcing him to chew and swallow. She forks fruit slices into his mouth then dry tuna. She doesn’t give him water as that would mean getting too close to his mouth.

  Not much but he takes it down. It’s better than nothing anyway and he’s had fibre, carbs, protein and vitamins from the fruit.

  She stands back proud as punch with herself and feeling strangely warm inside that she puts down to being full and at least a little bit safe now he’s back on his feet. She must remember to water him if they go anywhere. Maybe get him a sunhat too. He needs new clothes for sure. What he has on now is nothing more than torn up rags.

  That thought leads to another which transmutes to her own desire to wash. There was a bathroom upstairs, maybe it has a shower? She goes out into the hallway and pauses to let her puppy catch up before climbing the stairs. He thumps up forever on her heels and follows her down to the bathroom at the end.

  She pulls the curtains back to let the moonlight come in and finds the shower unit over the bath. Shelves filled with big towels and her heart soars at the sight of the box of tampons on the windowsill. She twists the shower valve and feels she could cry in happiness at the jet of cold water spraying instantly from the head.

  She sits on the closed toilet to unlace her new shoes that get toed off and pushed away. Her new socks get pulled off and she stands to unfasten the button on her new jeans. She looks at Paco watching her and pauses for a second to see if she feels weird about getting naked in front of him. She watches him closely while undoing her jeans and pushing them down her legs. Nothing. She pulls her top off to stand in her bra and knickers. Still nothing. She tugs the sports bra off to stand topless. Nope, not a flicker. Finally she goes for the knickers, grimacing at the thought of the kitchen roll that needs to come out. The knickers are ruined. Stained with blood and sodden. She looks down at her groin and shifts round to get the moonlight. The end of the paper is still there. She takes it gently between thumb and finger and starts to ease it down but it falls apart instantly. She takes a firmer grip and tries to pull quicker but more just comes away. She huffs, sighs and starts trying to get the bloodied paper out from her vagina. It’s disgusting and it smells horrible. All clotted and thick. She knows the risk of infection at leaving any stuck up inside. Do it in the shower. She looks up about to get in then realises what’s she doing in front of Paco Maguire. The actual Paco Maguire is in the bathroom while she probed her own vagina. Shit. She shakes her head and blinks. No one would ever believe it. He even looks half decent in this light, like all shadowy and the injuries look less severe. He still stinks though. Like so bad. She blows air at him and climbs into the bath to yelp at the cold water hitting her body. Paco jolts forward, his eyes fixed as his fists start to clench.

  ‘Fine,’ she waves at him, spraying water on his face. ‘S’just cold,’ she shivers and shakes as he comes closer and looks about ready to climb in. ‘Just stop there thank you,’ she tells him with an instinctive hand going to his chest to stop him coming forward. ‘Oh now look,’ she groans and shows him the hand she just used to touch him. ‘All dirty again now.’

  It is cold but exceptionally delightful and with Paco pressed into the edge of the bath she washes. She scrubs and shampoos her hair from the bottles on the side of the bath. She scrubs again and conditions her hair from the bottles on the side of the bath. She soaps, scrubs, uses shower gel then scrubs and washes again. The kitchen roll does come out, with the aid of the shower head pulled down to be aimed up that sluices dark bits of paper down into the white bath. Then she washes her hair and just for good measure she conditions it once more before scrubbing her body down just one more time to be sure she’s all clean.

  ‘Towel please,’ she says expectantly with a wry smile. He doesn’t move but it’s okay. She’s had food and a wash. An actual proper wash with shampoo and everything. ‘Move back…go on…’ she can’t touch him now after washing so she grabs a loafer and prods it into his chest. ‘Move back, there’s a good Paco.’

&n
bsp; She gets past him to grab an enormous fluffy bath towel that is wrapped round her body then another that is magically made to adhere to her head in the way only women can do. She finds deodorant and uses it. She gets the box of tampons and uses one. She wees, wipes and rinses her hands then mooches through the drawers in the side unit to find hairbands that get looped on her wrist and all in the presence of her puppy who turns to track her every move.

  ‘Come on,’ she nods at him to follow while wishing she had a proper toothbrush instead of finger scrubbing her teeth like she just did. Ah well, can’t have everything in life.

  ‘Oh this is nice,’ she tells Paco as she leads him into the living room to see the blazing log fire all crackling away nicely. ‘Right, new clothes. Well I’ve lost one bra and two tops but I should have some more in here. Oh this bag stinks of you now, Paco. It really does.’ She winces and uses a sock to open the zips to pull the new clothes out. ‘New trousers, bra, knickers, socks and a nice new top. All good. Good good good. That shower was so nice. I can’t actually remember the last time I had a shower. Before the church anyway. Like maybe six, seven days ago? More than that actually. I was body washing but it’s not the same is it? And my hair, oh my god it’s so nice to use conditioner.’

  She dries herself with the body towel while telling Paco how nice it is to be properly clean. ‘You need a good wash,’ she tells him with a serious nod and a waggling finger while standing nudey in the lounge with a towel on her head. She starts getting dressed, pulling clean knickers on then a normal non-sports bra on the basis that sleeping in a sports bra must be akin only to torture. She did consider finding a t shirt from one of the rooms upstairs to sleep in but then figured she needs to be ready to run in case anything happens.

  ‘Know what I could do with?’ She asks a non-responsive Paco. ‘Nice cup of tea. That would be bloody perfect. Fancy making me a cuppa? Yeah? Oh go on then, one sugar please and make it nice and milky for me.’

  Paco doesn’t make the tea.

  ‘No? Fair enough. Can’t blame a lady for trying. Right, I’m dressed and ready for bed. Which is not something I ever thought I would hear myself saying but there you go. Now, Mr Maguire, what are we to do with you?’ She poses the question and waits with her hands on her hips.

  Paco doesn’t know what they are to do with him.

  ‘Well you can’t stay in here,’ she informs him primly. ‘You smell.’ She no longer considers his willy poking a risk seeing as she just got naked, showered, pulled kitchen roll from her vagina and had a pee in front of him. She’d already decided on sleeping in the lounge for the simple reason that it’s the ground floor and easier to escape from.

  ‘Come on then, out you go,’ she waves her hands at him while walking towards the door. ‘You can sleep out there in the hallway. Do you sleep? Well, whatever you do at night, other than eat people that is, you can do it out there. Paco, come on….no, stop dithering and go out. Really? Have I got to push you everywhere? Fine.’ She huffs and grabs a clean spoon from the cutlery she brought in earlier that she uses to poke gently into his shoulder to turn him round. ‘Go on, that’s it,’ she prods him along through the door into the flagstone hallway. ‘Call me if anything happens,’ she smiles, nods and closes the door as he turns to come back in.

  Instant guilt kicks in. The guilt you’d get from making your puppy sleep outside but he’s not a puppy. He’s an infected man.

  She goes for the sofa as the door thuds, making her freeze mid-step. She waits, listening then when all is quiet she moves again. The door thuds.

  ‘Paco, you are not coming in,’ she tells him firmly but gently. He’s not a puppy. He’s an infected man.

  She gets to the sofa and eases down as the door thuds once again. A solid thud too. The sort of thud you’d get from a big man walking forward into a closed wooden door. She scowls and ignores it. He’ll give up in a minute.

  Paco doesn’t give up. Paco tries to walk forward with increasing levels of force used to make the door not be there anymore until it’s shaking the frame with small chunks of plaster coming away.

  ‘Fine!’ She wrenches the door open to glare at him. He looks back and shuffles in to stand content and close. She tuts, scowls and slinks back to the sofa that she flops down on with another big huff. He shuffles closer to keep whatever distance is set in his head between them. Which is close. Like really close. She rolls onto her back then rolls her eyes while shaking her head.

  ‘This is weird,’ she tells him outright as he stands looming over the sofa staring down at her. ‘I can’t sleep with you right there.’

  If he wasn’t so filthy he could sit at one end. The sofa is big enough and she’d put her legs over him. No! What on earth. He’s an infected monster. She huffs again at herself this time and sits up. She spots the armchair, looks at Paco and tries to assess how difficult it will be to make him sit in it.

  It is difficult. Very difficult. She prods, cajoles and pushes him until he finally sinks down with a whump. She nods, claiming the victory then goes back to her sofa as he gets up and follows.

  ‘Oh my god what now?’ She snaps at him. The armchair is too far away. Of course it is. I mean it’s like at least ten feet. God forbid he’s more than ten feet from me. She pushes the armchair closer, then a bit closer, then a bit more and gives up and pushes it to the side of sofa so the arms are touching. After that is the rigmarole of making him sit again.

  ‘There,’ she stands back to fold her arms and stare down at him. ‘Happy now? Yes? Right well just stay there.’

  She flumps back on the sofa and quickly peers up to check he’s happy where he is. He seems to be. He doesn’t try and get up anyway. She sighs, yawns and rolls on her side to watch the flames dancing yellow and orange. What a day. What a truly awful terrible horrendous day. She snuggles a deeper groove into the sofa then lifts her head again to check Paco who seems content where he is. It should feel weird being stared at all the time and she cannot believe she showered naked in front of him like that, but at the time it felt normal, like it was okay. If he was going to hurt her he would have done it. He could do it at any time. The strength in him is just absurd, freakishly absurd yet he’s so gentle the way he looks at her. She breathes out long and heavy and chooses to carry on ignoring what it all means. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything. He is what he is and the situation is what it is. Why question it? Not everything has reason, not reason like a purpose. Sometimes things just happen. Right now she is going to sleep in the living room of a farmhouse with two dead bodies in the kitchen while an infected former Hollywood star watches her every move. Nothing weird about that. As she thinks that so she faces up to the question of trust. To become naked in front of him and to now lie down to sleep would suggest she does trust him. She shouldn’t trust him. He’s killed so many people. Ripped them apart with bare hands. He’s lethal, deranged, a maniac, something from a nightmare and whatever is keeping him in check could end in a heartbeat. He is a dangerous monster.

  She frowns and blinks heavily. Her mind growing slower as she starts the descent into sleep. He is a dangerous monster.

  That is without doubt, but the last thought before she drops into sleep is that Paco is her dangerous monster.

  Sixteen

  ‘Ha! Look…’ she shows him the find. ‘See these? Yeah?’

  Paco watches but doesn’t reply that he does, in fact, see them.

  She pulls her head out of the under sink cupboard and stands up to nod firmly with the air of someone who has purpose and now the tools to fulfil that purpose. She switches her gaze from him to the yellow rubber gloves. He’s a big man and they aren’t very big at all. Not for the job she has in mind.

  This is a farm. They must have some bigger ones somewhere. Mind you, they’ll do for now. She pulls them on to waggle yellow fingers at Paco. ‘All safe,’ she tells him. ‘Come on.’

  She woke up gagging on the stench that had built up in the enclosed room. The fire, the air temperature, the doors and windows close
d and two of them breathing in and out only served to make the fetid rotten smell so bad she woke up almost puking. She’d dreamt of being trapped in a sewer with people covered in shit, piss, vomit and stale sweat. It was when they started throwing rotten eggs at her face that her mind decided she needed to wake up and get fresh air.

  After peeing, rinsing her hands and face and changing her tampon all under the watchful eyes of Paco, she formed the purpose that this morning he was going to get a bloody good wash.

  Now armed with yellow marigolds she marches round the bodies and feels safe enough to man handle him out of the way so she can search the utility room. She finds a bucket which is filled with rags, brushes and a big bottle of anti-bacterial hand wash then spots the big green first aid box on the wall. That too is commandeered. So is the bottle of antiseptic from the kitchen and the pan cleaning brush, more soap, cloths, scouring pads and anything that even hints of having a cleaning ability.

  ‘Come on,’ she says brightly with that air of a person with purpose. As she marches across the yard she spots the body lying slumped on one side against the base of the nearest outbuilding. She slows down, peering for signs of life then spotting the back of his head is splattered across several boards of the wall. Spent casings on the ground catch her eye. Brass bullets and red shotgun cartridges. Someone stood here and shot that man, probably the same people that got in and killed the two in the kitchen.

  It brings home the reality of this new world and makes her realise she’s already becoming desensitised to the sight of corpses. Whatever happened here was quite a few days ago judging by the state of decomposition. Whatever, she’s safe with Paco, who still needs a bloody good wash.