by RR Haywood
‘Did you always want to be an actor?’ She asks.
Paco doesn’t tell her what his childhood ambitions were.
‘I say actor but it’s hardly acting is it? Not like…er…like De Niro or someone like that. Like Tom Hanks. He’s a proper actor but…no I mean, you know, you’re like a huge Hollywood star and all that and got millions in the bank and…but…still, you were good at what you did I guess. Like snapping peoples necks with the foot thing on the knees. I can’t believe you can do it in real life.’
‘God, the amount of things I wanted be when I was young. It changed like ten times a day. I’d want to be a florist in the morning but by lunch I knew I’d be an astronaut and by bedtime I had my future mapped out as a nurse…always fancied the police, the army was always an option…’
‘I just never settled,’ she admits ruefully. ‘It was like everyone else always knew what they wanted to be but I just figured the answer would one day just pop in my head or just happen. I had good grades and did A Levels but university was so hard. Not hard as in like intellectually challenging but hard to study one thing when my head was like flitting to a hundred different things at once. I changed in the first year too and stopped doing English to study History but then changed to Politics when I realised I was destined to be the Prime Minister but by the next day I was into law and asked to change again. In the end this really nice professor lady gave me a right old lecture and told me to grow up. She was cool though.’
‘Did English in the end,’ she adds after a long silence.
‘Figured I’d be a writer or a journalist,’ she adds after another long silence.
‘Tried writing a book once. Got the first three chapters done then knew I was going to be a war correspondent.’
‘I didn’t become a war correspondent.’
‘I was in foster care,’ she says after a time, with just the slightest drop in tone. ‘I was only young when…I was three. I’ve got this vague memory of her but…nothing happened in foster care, like nothing bad but there was a lot of them. You know, most of them did it for the money and…they thought I’d get adopted but it er…well I didn’t so…’
‘Ha! God I’m waffling on aren’t I.’
‘So like, always moving round and things. New schools and new homes, you know, so I just didn’t settle and then…God you must be so bored listening to me going on.’
‘Never told anyone that before.’
‘Gosh it’s hot isn’t it. Do you want some water? I think I will have some…urgh my back’s all sweaty from the bag. Which one are you using? Er…right you have this blue bottle and we’ll keep it in the plastic bag. I’ve got some anti-bac wipes from the kitchen but let me get the glove on…right open up…that’s it, well done. You’re getting better at drinking…more? You must be thirsty, gosh you’re glugging away like a good ‘un there, Paco. Had enough? Sure? No? Okay, feel better now? You do look better. Right your bottle goes in the bag and mine is here. Ah it’s still quite cool. Right, we’d better keep going. Do you want to carry the bag now? Give me your hand and…right make a fist and hold the strap, close your fingers like this…there, you okay with that? Ah that’s so much better. Just say if you want me to take it.’
‘My mum had a sister but they lost contact when I was born so…I think they tried to trace her but they told me they couldn’t find her. I think they did find her but she said she wasn’t interested. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now does it? Whole world has gone pop and boom so…’
‘My mum was a prostitute.’
‘Bad isn’t it? Being a prostitute I mean. She er, she got into Heroin and…things. I’m not judging her though.’
‘They told me she died from a medical condition when I was young but…well, they told me when I was sixteen what happened. I went to the doctors to go on the pill and the doc had these notes about me being born addicted to Heroin and how I had to be weaned off. I didn’t know anything about it. The doctor was so angry that no one had told me anything. He was the one who got hold of social services and made them release their records to me.’
‘He was a nice man that doctor.’
‘He was gay. I used to see him a lot. Like he’d check on me and make sure I was okay. I think him being gay made me less wary. Like you know, some of the other boys in foster care got a bit touchy gropey sometimes and…’
‘He had a beard and this deep voice. He was quite big too. Not big like you but you know, like corpulent. Doctor Stone. Heathcliff Stone. He said I could call him Cliff.’
‘So yeah. Born addicted to heroin eh? Cor that’s a shit start haha! Still, it’s better than a lot of other people. You know, like people born into famine or poverty and things. Like someone born now. That would be bad. Being born now. Mind you they wouldn’t know any difference would they? We’d remember what the world was like but they’d grow up thinking it was normal.’
‘Is that bag getting heavy? Want me to take it? No? Okay then.’
‘Should get you a sunhat.’
‘Are you hungry? I didn’t bring any food. We’ll find somewhere and get something. Ooh, remind me I need to get a toothbrush. We could do with some more wipes too and some more gloves in case those split. What else? Water definitely. Maybe something sugary like an energy drink? What do you think?’
Paco doesn’t think. He doesn’t understand a word of what she is saying but he listens anyway. He takes in the tone, the softness of it and the way she smiles and looks at him. He doesn’t mind carrying the bag and something in him likes it when she touches him. Her voice, her manner, her touch and just her shifts the gained equilibrium. The urge to bite that was held in check is pushed further away. The memories and flashes of images come back but slower and they stay longer. They’re still too distant to mean anything. He has no conscious thought but conscious thought is only the uppermost layer of the mind.
So she talks. She tells him things she has never told another human being. She laughs at herself and changes subject as her mind flits to jump and grasp new topics and they walk side by side through the country lanes, sweating and red faced they stop frequently to drink water.
She tells him about being in the gym when it happened and what she saw on the news. She explains she loves going to the gym and exercise has probably been the only thing she has ever really stayed committed with. Heather tells him about the church and the awful long days of hiding and how bored she got. It was torture for someone like her to be without mental stimulation, she tells him that too. She tells him everything and the more she tells the more comes out. She doesn’t even flinch when she veers slightly and brushes against his side and during one lengthy explanation she reaches out with her bare hand to touch his arm in emphasis of a point. She tuts when she realises but carries on chatting while taking a wipe from the bag in his hand.
They walk miles, both without realising and both for very different reasons. Past fields that roll away with the undulation of the ground. Past hedges bursting with life. Past old stone walls and over old stone bridges that have gurgling streams underneath. Past trees that tower with canopies that give blessed shade and past entrances to farms set back on unmade roads that get ignored.
The first house on the side of the road they pass is still done so with caution, but less than before. She watches closely and listens but keeps going while edging nearer to the reassuring bulk of Paco striding at her side. She would have taken his hand if it wasn’t such a wholly stupid idea that made her blush for even thinking it. Once past she grins ruefully at Paco and crinkles her nose as if to say what was that about?
Eighteen
The heat becomes worse and grows to bear down with crushing weight that makes even talking hard work. Another mistake made. She should have stayed at the farm. She should have stayed in the church. She should have done many things but these are new times and you deal with what’s in front of you.
They’ve been walking for hours. In her mind she assumed they’d find a quaint little village and forage for too
thbrushes and the other things on the list created in her head. Instead they carried on along endless country lanes and roads that weaved a route through more fields than ever knew existed.
Despite the heat, despite the sweat pouring from her body, despite the humidity and the end of the world and despite anything else she still has a weird feeling of contentment and in truth, she wouldn’t go back to the farm or the church. They drink water to stay hydrated and more that gets poured down over faces to sluice the sweat away. That Paco is now sweating is something she noticed with another smile and a pat on his arm as though he did something he should be proud of.
Instead of the quaint little village she had in mind they reach the edge of a town. Not a big one or anything like the size of the one she met Paco in. On the crest of a hill she stares down at rooftops that grow thicker in number and closer together towards the middle. She spots the wide main road then more buildings that stretch out to meet fields and open farmland.
‘Looks okay,’ she whispers to Paco who doesn’t reply or give any form of opinion on the perceived level of safety of the town ahead. ‘Yeah, yeah we’ll go for it,’ she adds while nodding. Shade is needed. Not the shade they’ve got now from the oak tree they’re under but proper indoors shade. A house or something. She tells herself they’ll go quietly and run at the first sight of trouble or indeed the first sight of anything like yesterday.
Down the hill they go, losing the overview of the town as they descend. She stops at the corner of the first proper residential street and scans every inch of ground she can see. No bodies. No blood either. She looks to the houses and spots a few with doors hanging open but otherwise no signs of damage.
Her hand reaches out to feel Paco is still there. She brushes across his front then gently gropes until she finds the hanging material of his side pocket that she hooks her thumb into. She tugs for them to move and debates whether to stick to the side of the pavement or go in the middle of the road. It feels natural to want to stay at the side but the middle means you can see both sides equally. She opts for the middle and guides Paco out to follow the broken white lines up the road. She keeps her hand hooked on the material of his pocket, eyes flicking left and right and turning every few steps to check behind. All quiet. All good. No bodies. No blood. She risks a quick grin at Paco and again crumples her nose, so far so good eh?
His presence makes all the difference and she feels far less fear than walking into that other town after leaving the church. She glances at him again. He doesn’t even look like an infected person now. Apart from the eyes and you’d have to be close to see those. He’s walking normally and he’s a big bloke too so hopefully anyone looking will see a big man walking with a woman. It even feels okay, this town I mean. She nods at Paco as though affirming her thoughts to him. The heat is the only big issue. It must be well over thirty degrees and the only time she’s felt heat like this was on a Greek Island a few years back during the height of the summer. It’s like walking through an oven. Even the tarmac is bubbling in places and there’s now a permanent heat shimmer that could never be reached hanging over the road ahead.
They can find the centre, or a shop on the way and get what they need then find somewhere to get rest and shade. They can spend the night or find a vehicle and drive somewhere else. Paco has given her choices and options. She smiles again and pushes her hand hooked onto his pocket into his side with a fleeting touch of affection.
They turn into the last road that feeds into the town centre and walk steadily between the houses. Still no bodies. Still no blood. She wipes the sweat from her forehead with her arm and blasts air out through her cheeks. Then she hears the bang and stops. A loud percussive noise of something heavy being thrown against something solid.
She tugs at Paco’s pocket to draw him back and looks quickly to his arms that aren’t tensed. His hands still open as normal and his face is as passive as ever. She bites her lip then hears another bang, the same as before too. Something heavy against something solid. On a T junction and she can see the road running left and right runs behind the shops. Behind them is the road they came up. She thinks to go back then spots the gate to a high walled yard hanging open. She tugs him again and sets off while nodding at the gate. Paco goes with her, still not showing any signs of concern.
She stops him by the gate, darts in to check then ushers him through before following and easing the gate closed that’s secured by a single bolt in the middle. Another bang sounds clear in the air, closer now too and coming from the other side of the building she’s at the rear of. She squints and thinks, it must be the town centre. It has to be. Is it? The sound of a window going through makes her jolt. Paco steps closer but stares at her and not at anything else. His hands still open and his arms relaxed.
Okay, find cover and hide. Wait it out. She creeps across the yard to the back of the building and spots the rear door ajar. She stops, sniffs and checks Paco for reaction again. Still nothing. Another bang comes from the front of the building but a bit further away, like someone is going down the street smashing things.
She pushes the door open and peers through into what looks like a staff room. Mismatched chairs set round a table. A kitchen unit on one side with a stainless steel sink. A health and safety at work notice pinned to a notice board along with printed pie charts, graphs and memos addressed to all staff. Thick dust on the floor. Undisturbed and the air smells musty but clear of decomposing bodies or shit or piss or stale sweat. Another glance at Paco who remains as relaxed as before.
She closes the back door, smiling with a grimace as she twists the handle to push the door closed. A key in the lock that she turns over and leaves in place ready for a swift exit if needed.
The next bang is further down the street again and accompanied by a male voice shouting angrily. Human though. Definitely human, as opposed to zombie. Zombies snarl and hiss, they growl and can howl and even roar but they don’t generally shout. She doesn’t think so anyway. Into a store room filled with railings of clothes. She nods at Paco, ‘clothes shop,’ she mouths. Paco doesn’t reply or acknowledge her awesome detective skills.
A door leads to set of stairs going up to what must be either the owners or managers flat or more storage space. She closes that one as quietly as possible and eases the other one open to peer out into the main store and through rails of clothes to a big plate glass window.
Options presented and weighed. She closes the door to the shop and opens the other one to the stairs. She gets Paco in front and pushes him gently from behind to get him going up while she clings to the back of his dungarees. Another door at the top. She pushes her hand through the gap between Paco’s arm and his body to twist the handle then pushes the door open before darting back to hide behind him. Nothing happens. No one comes snarling out. She pushes into his back, indicating him to go forward.
They go into another store room stacked with boxes and railings of clothes. Again the dust on the floor tells her the room has been undisturbed. The next bang sounds out but further away again. She guides Paco deeper into the room then creeps over the window to look carefully down at a military vehicle left abandoned on the side of the road with the driver’s door open. It’s definitely an army truck. Like armoured and the wheels are huge. It’s covered in blood and gore too like it’s been used to mow people down. She stares for a while not seeing movement or motion. The next thud comes from her left. She eases forward to gain a view of the street and spots a huge man wrenching a bench from the ground that he throws through the window of a shop clearly in temper. Her mouth drops open in surprise and she quickly checks the street but can’t see anyone else. When she looks back up the man is throwing a litter bin into the side of a car that he then attacks with his feet. He’s huge. Far bigger than Paco and with a bald head that glistens with sweat in the sunshine. He grabs anything he can to throw and smash with a rage that makes his face all flushed and red.
She thought Paco was strong but this guy is off the chart. He pulls a be
nch off the ground which in itself is impressive considering it’s wrought iron but it’s also concreted into the pavement. She can see the chunks falling off as it gets pulled up and held overhead to be lobbed across the road into parked van. He goes on after that too. Litter bins and street signs get thrown and used to beat windows, cars, trucks and anything in his path.
He stops suddenly. A cessation of anger that ends as his huge shoulders sag down and his chest heaves for air. He turns and looks down to the military vehicle then rubs his chin as though thinking what to do. He says something to himself and sets off towards a van parked further up. He looks through the windows as though looking for keys as she begins to understand that the army vehicle is his. It must have broken down judging by the angle he’s left it in. That might explain the temper tantrum, if you can call a giant throwing metal benches through shop windows a temper tantrum.
The man goes out of sight for a minute then comes back holding something in his hands that he uses to get into the van. Keys. He’s just got keys from a house or a shop. He gets into the driver’s seat, fumbles about, wipes his head then pulls away to drive back down the road. Heather eases back out of view and listens as the van stops and a door opens.
Footsteps then grunts come clear and audible. She risks another glance to see the man taking things from the military vehicle to put into the van. Machine guns, ammunitions boxes and other things she doesn’t recognise. He works fast despite the heat and now that he’s closer she gets the distinct impression of a soldier. He looks worried and uses the back of his hairy arm to wipe the sweat from his face. He disappears inside the army truck then reappears in a hole in the roof she didn’t previously notice and the even bigger machine gun fixed there that he works on to get it off and down. That goes into the van with everything else and a bare few minutes later he’s driving off with the engine revving loud and solid with speed gained.