“Mary loaded this one too,” said Josephine, handing me the Supreme Max shotgun.
“Mary, get out of the way!” I shouted as the successful infected started to climb onto the windowsill.
As Mary moved out of the line of fire, I did not aim at any particular part of the body, hitting the infected in the left shoulder. The impact knocked him back through the window, his arm apparently mostly removed from his body. I also staggered backwards from the recoil.
“Mary, what flipping cartridges did you put in this?” I asked, still wondering what had hit me.
“I was not sure what you said earlier so I put the long ones in.”
The 3.5-inch magnums loaded with BB shot – well, they sure do make a mess, I thought.
I painfully emptied the rest of the magazine into the oncoming infected, bar one. To my surprise, the first of them, who I had shot in the shoulder, reappeared in front of me with his arm hanging down limply. His jacket was completely covered in blood as he still tried to climb through the window, even though he had only one good arm. A bit more composed this time, I shot him between the eyes at a range of six feet and his head literally exploded, sending blood spatter in all directions, together with pieces of bone and flesh. He fell backwards with only his lower jaw in place – everything that should have been above that was missing.
I grabbed the tactical shotgun I had been loading earlier and fed two more SG shells into the magazine so it was fully loaded. Going back to the window, where two infected were trying, without much success, to climb through together, I hit one in the throat and the other in the top of the head and both fell to the ground. Miles, Jeffrey and John had been doing a great job in stopping the infected at the entrance to the close, judging by the number of bodies that were starting to pile up. Still, three infected had escaped their attention and were heading towards me, but they didn’t get within ten yards of the window before they fell to the ground. Starting to take aim at the remaining infected that appeared from behind the hedge at number 43, I hesitated as David appeared with his five-year-old, Johnny, and a lady close behind who I assumed to be his wife. But they had the same bright red eyes as the infected, and David had been bitten on his arm.
I lowered the shotgun, not willing to take the shot and thinking it’s Johnny’s birthday today – what a present! There was the crack, crack! of the Ruger and then the booming sound of the shotgun, twice. A red spot appeared between Johnny’s eyes and he fell to the ground. David was hit with the shotgun SG shot, but he still managed to keep coming until the second wave of SG shot struck a vital area, and he fell next to his son with an arm across his back, as if he was trying to protect him. His wife fell at his feet.
There were two more shots from Miles, but whatever he fired at I could not see as it was hidden behind number 43’s hedge. Then an eerie silence fell upon the close. There was none of the usual traffic noise, no birds singing, no wind to rustle the leaves on the trees, just silence. David had managed to turn off his generator, but too late.
I moved away from window and sat in the nearest available armchair.
“Didn’t you see that poor little boy?” said Mary, her eyes watering.
“His name was Johnny. He was five, it was his birthday today,” I said, my voice starting to shake a little.
Tears started to run down Mary’s cheeks.
“Oh,” she said, unwilling to say another word as she turned her face away from me.
“Miles, can you see any more?” John boomed.
Miles was in a much better position to see beyond our close.
“Nothing at the moment, John.”
We could hear John’s footsteps coming down the stairs, and as he entered the living room Josephine moved to his side, seeking some sort of comfort from his presence.
I grabbed the shotgun and started to reload it, grateful for something to take my mind off the events we had just witnessed.
“John, let’s check outside,” I said, getting up and heading for the front door. John had left the Ruger target rifle upstairs. He picked up the tactical Ruger and two of the 25-round magazines, fitting one into the rifle as we went through the front door. We started to walk towards the barricade, Mat and Sara joining us. Then Maria appeared at Lucy’s door and walked along their short driveway to the edge of the road. Lucy was standing at her front door, her two young children at her side, her eyes giving away the anguish she was feeling inside. Miles came up behind us, followed by his two sons. Miles broke the silence.
“Alright, who shot my taxi?”
He sounded very loud in the absence of other sounds.
The windscreen had splintered into a thousand pieces, although it was still held together in its frame. Two neat holes had been put through it. The side window of Alf’s van had been shot out, and the side seemed to be well ventilated. Our Micra had both its front side windows missing, plus a number of holes in the front passenger door.
“So, what are we going to do with all these bodies?” asked Mat. “We can’t even get our cars out of the close.”
“There isn’t much room left in the garage,” stated Miles.
“We have to do something soon, before they start to smell,” said Sara.
I heard a noise from behind, and we all looked in the direction of my house to see Mary and Josephine picking their way through the bodies so they could join us.
“So, does anybody have any ideas on what we should do to clear up the bodies?” I asked as they reached us.
We looked at each other in silence, Mat finally offering a solution.
“My idea is we move all the bodies to the centre of the green and burn them.”
“That would remove any nasty smells,” John added.
“And it wouldn’t attract any vermin,” said Josephine. Rats made her very nervous.
“And James can hose down the close after the bodies have been removed,” Mary added.
“Wait a minute, wait a minute – how did I get elected for that, Mary?”
Mary just smiled at me.
“I’ll get my wheelbarrow,” said Mat, turning and heading for his side gate.
“We can use Alf’s van – the keys are still in it, and I’ll drive,” said John.
“It might be a better idea if the ladies started to wash down the road once we have cleared some space,” said Miles.
“I agree – do we all have a hosepipe?” I asked. Everyone nodded.
Mary looked at me in distaste.
“You got out of that one.”
This time, it was my turn to smile.
Fortunately, most if not all of the vermin had been frightened away by the noise of the guns. The birds would fly off anyway, but the rats could give us a few nasty surprises.
We all set about the gruesome task of moving the bodies, picking up some of the larger pieces that could not be washed away by water from the hosepipes.
“Would you all like a cup of tea?” Lucy shouted.
All accepted, except for Mary, asking for coffee, as usual.
Lucy had to look after her children, and I was certain that she offered to make the tea to remove them from the shocking scenes in the close and beyond. We had the close cleared before we started drinking the tea in silence. The ladies had started to wash the blood and small body parts down the drain as we finished our tea and resumed our miserable task.
It was past 6.00 pm when we finished, and we had cleared all the bodies up to the entrance to the green. Alf’s van had been a godsend. We had created a pile of over 300 bodies in the centre of the green, deciding this was enough for one day and leaving the bodies in number 29’s garage where they were. The ladies had hosed down the close to just beyond the barricade and retired to their own homes, except for Maria, who had gone to comfort Lucy. We finished up by reinstalling our barricade, and retired to our homes thankful for a chance to rest.
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br /> Entering the living room, we were greeted by a very excited Sheba wagging her tail vigorously. It was her usual time to go for a walk, and when we all sat down on the armchairs and sofa instead, she looked very disappointed.
“Eats,” Mary said to Sheba. As she got up again to prepare the dog’s food, Sheba followed, tail wagging once more.
“Cup of tea and something to eat?” asked Josephine, as she extracted herself from the sofa and headed for the kitchen.
“Good idea. I’ll have a ham-and-mustard sandwich,” I replied.
“I’ll have the same,” said John. “Let’s check the radio for any news.”
John picked up the battery-operated radio. Turning it on, he started to scan the frequencies.
“I’ll see if I can find something to board up our window,” I said, getting up and heading for the kitchen door, passing Sheba scoffing her food as though it was her last meal. We had some four-foot panels left over from when we re-floored the kitchen. I slotted them together and, using three inch-by-half-inch pieces of timber, secured them with some screws.
“Food’s ready,” Josephine declared.
Going back into the living room, my sandwich and tea were waiting. John was already tucking into his sandwich.
“Any luck with the radio, John?” I asked.
“No, I found nothing – only static.”
“Perhaps you can help with the window when we’ve finished our food,” I suggested. John was much more of a handyman than me.
“Yes – it’ll give us something to do,” he replied.
Things could get really boring now, with no television or computers to occupy us.
John and I eventually fitted my makeshift boarding to the window. Then we checked the guns over and reloaded all our magazines.
“I’m going to give the Ruger with the ATI stock a clean, and make sure it’s functioning OK,” said John. Picking up our new acquisition, he went into the kitchen so he could use the table.
“Mary, I’m going to speak to Mat to see if he needs any help with his new shotgun and Ruger,” I said. I was also grateful for something to do after the day’s events.
“Josephine and I will clean and tidy up while you’re gone,” said Mary.
“OK, see you later, my love.”
I walked the 15 yards from our front door to Mat’s, noticing how unusually clear the close looked – the ladies had done a grand job. Looking through Mat’s front window, I waved my arms, not knowing if they could see me as their curtains were partially closed. The front door remained closed, so I banged my fist on it a couple of times and waited. Suddenly realising I had no gun with me, I began to look round the close, trying to detect any signs of movement. I also peered round Alf’s hedge to make sure nothing was approaching the close. My ears were on high alert listening for any unusual sounds. I turned back to Mat’s front door and gave it another bang, starting to feel very vulnerable.
That was when I heard a creaking sound coming from number 29. There it was again. I crossed the close to the edge of 29’s front garden and stopped, not daring to get any closer. There was another creak, this time identifying the source – it was the garage doors. Must be the wind, I thought. But no, there was no wind.
“James!” Mat shouted suddenly, scaring the life out of me. “You OK?”
He must have seen me jump.
“I thought I heard something,” I replied, heading in his direction. “Do you need any help with the new weaponry?”
“Yes, I could do with a few pointers. Come in,” Mat replied.
I didn’t need to be asked twice, and was just pleased to be going somewhere safe.
As I approached Mat’s doorway, there was an almighty crash from behind. Mat’s eyes seem to light up, and I turned just in time to see the garage door fly open and an infected ambling towards us.
“Mat, your shotgun, now!”
He was ahead of me, picking up the shotgun from just inside the door and handing it to me. The infected was 15 yards away, and I aimed and pulled the trigger. Click! – nothing happened. I looked at Mat, with what must have been a surprised expression.
“Not loaded it yet,” Mat stated matter-of-factly.
“Where are the cartridges?” I asked.
“In the kitchen – I’ll go and get them.”
“You do that!” I said, probably sounding very irritated.
There was no time to wait for Mat, as the infected was nearly on top of me. Backing into the house, I shut and locked the front door.
“Mat, where are you?” I called out.
“I’m trying to open the box of cartridges,” Mat replied.
The infected started to bang on the front door.
I closed the inner door and went through to the kitchen, saying a quick “hello” to Sara as I passed through the living room. Mat was holding a knife in his hand, and had just cut the seal on the cartridge box, whose label stated it contained 2¾-inch cartridges loaded with BB shot.
I checked the gun over and loaded the magazine with eight shells. We could still hear the infected banging on the front door.
“Mat, I’ll go out the back and round the side of the house. Hopefully I’ll catch the infected by surprise.”
“OK, James, I’ll let you out.”
Going out of the kitchen door, we both stood at the side gate.
“Ready, James,” Mat said as he started to undo the bolts on the gate.
I went back onto the short driveway that passed the front of our house, moving forward slowly and keeping close to the side wall of Mat’s house. As I reached the end I popped my head out to see exactly where the infected was – fortunately he was still trying to find a way through the front door. I had another look and could see a gash from the front of one ear to the back of his skull, probably caused by a bullet or one of the SG shots, which must have knocked him out.
I composed myself, put the shotgun to my shoulder and turned the corner – the infected was right in front of me, only six feet away. I fired, hitting him in the left side of the chest and creating a three-inch diameter cavity. He staggered backwards, turning to his left under the impact, and I fired again but now he was side on, the shot hitting him in the upper right arm, nearly removing it. The next shot hit the right temple, scattering the contents of his skull over Mat’s front window. The infected finally lay still.
I breathed a sigh of relief and headed to Mat’s side gate, which he opened as I approached.
“Well done, James.”
“We’re going to need your wheelbarrow again, Mat,” I said, starting to feel exhausted.
“Yes, I’ll get it now – we don’t want to be doing this in the dark.”
Mat brought the wheelbarrow to the front of the house, and both of us lifted the body into it. Mat then wheeled the body over to the garage, me following with the shotgun, just in case.
Fortunately, there were no other live ones, so we shut the doors and returned to Mat’s house.
Arriving in the kitchen, Sara said, “I’ve made you two a cup of tea”.
“Thank you, Sara. I really need that,” I said, sitting on the nearest available chair.
“James, I’ll get the Ruger and perhaps you can show Sara and me how it works,” said Mat.
“The first thing is to clean and oil it,” I replied.
I went through the cleaning process, loading and inserting the magazine, and did a quick run-though on the shotgun and showed them what not to do for safety’s sake.
I left them with all magazines loaded, but the guns not cocked, not wanting them to shoot themselves by accident. I left by the side gate, Mat standing guard as I did so.
“You had a bit of trouble there, didn’t you, Dad?” said John when I got home.
“Maybe I’ll tell you about it later.”
It was now beginning to get dark, so M
ary lit a couple of candles and closed the curtains. John tried the radio again, without success. Josephine was fiddling about with her iPhone – force of habit, I supposed.
“Did you check the Ruger ATI, son?” I asked John.
“Yeah, locked and loaded.”
“We need to contact Linda and Ruth somehow, James,” said Mary.
“John, did you manage to get hold of a normal phone?” I asked.
“Yes, I left it in the kitchen,” John replied.
“OK, Mary – where have you put it?” I asked. She had a nasty habit of putting things in a safe place, but the trouble was no one else could find them.
“I know where it is,” Mary replied, disappearing into the kitchen.
A few minutes later she returned holding an oblong box containing the new phone. John took the box and opened it.
“Where do I plug it in?” he asked.
“Where the main line comes in, our bedroom,” I said. John and I headed towards the stairs.
“Mary, are you coming?” I asked. Mary followed us to our bedroom.
John removed the three-way phone and plugged in the new one. Putting the handset to his ear, he listened for a few seconds.
“It appears to be working,” he said.
“OK, Mary, see if you can reach Linda,” I said.
John handed the phone to Mary, who sat on the bed and started to dial Linda’s number. John and I waited in anticipation.
“It’s ringing.”
I put my ear to the phone.
“Hello,” said Linda, sounding excited.
“It’s your mum,” Mary replied.
“I’m so pleased – we haven’t heard from anybody for the last two days,” said Linda.
“How’re you doing down there?” Mary asked.
“We haven’t been out at all. These infected people are everywhere. Brian did try to get to the local shops today, but he had to come back, only just escaping from a group of infected that were in the area. He thinks he may have killed one of them.”
Infected- The Beginning Page 14