by Aline Riva
“I hurt all over.”
He still hadn't opened his eyes.
“You took a nasty beating, but it could have been worse. What were you doing out there? Did you have no where safe to go?”
He gave a sigh, clutching the covers close to his body as he sank softly against the middle of a soft pillow laid on the end of the sofa. He was finally warming up, and the worst of the pain from the bruises was fading to a bearable level.
“The city was a death trap. I got out but my car got smashed up... too much ice on the roads. I'm trying to find my sister. She can help, she has supplies...enough to get us through until this is over... enough for a year. They said it would last a year, right? Didn't they say that?” he was murmuring now.
“Yes, they said the outbreak will last for twelve months, then they believe the virus will die off. Hold still, Mickey.”
Mickey gave a hiss of pain as River examined his neck then checked his head for bruises and swelling.
“Leave me alone!” he said wearily, “Let me sleep...”
She saw the bruising to his back, then covered him again, and turned back to the covers to check his lower body. She saw no discolouration, but noticed his right leg seemed numb as she pinched at the skin.
“Mickey, did you hurt your back when the car went off the road?”
“No.”
“Can you feel me touching your leg? You don't seem to have any feeling in your foot, either.”
He gave a weary sigh and turned stiffly on to his back.
“It's not zombies or spine damage, and I'm not freezing to death. I had meningitis as a kid...slight paralysis in my right side, my leg's a bit weak. My arm looks okay but my handwriting is shit! What else would you like to know, doctor?”
He finally opened his eyes, they were shade of pale blue and framed by dark lashes. He arched a jet black brow that partly vanished up beneath his equally dark fringe as he looked from Joy to River.
“Rescued by a cop and her doctor friend...How bizarre! Thank you, both of you. I'm now hoping neither of you have a grudge against my sister, or maybe there's something worse waiting for me than a fucking noose!”
He laughed nervously, his gaze darting to River then to Joy once more.
“You don't look like you want to kill me...”
“That's because we don't want to kill you, Mickey,” said River, and then she turned to her bag, took out painkillers and placed them loose on the coffee table, “Take two of these every four to six hours, it will help with the pain. Keep warm and rest, and eat as well as you can. Joy will look after you until you're ready to be on your way. I don't think it will take long, maybe a couple of days.”
“Two days?” he sat up sharply, regretting it at once as pain throbbed in his bruised back as he stared at the two women who stood over him.
“Yes, you should be well enough to be on your way by then,” River replied, “I'll see if anyone can spare the fuel to take you to your destination – assuming it's close enough. If not, you may have no choice but stay here.”
There was a look of panic in his eyes.
“But I can't leave yet! I might have frostbite! I might have hypothermia! And I need to reach my sister!”
Joy and River exchanged a look, barely able to hide what was, in these rough times, a rare moment of amusement. So this was the tough gangster brother of Flora Deering? Apparently not so tough after all...
“You don't have to worry,” River told him, “You'll be just fine. Then you can either be on your way, or stay here – although supplies are running low, so it's up to you, everything is a gamble these days.”
He fell silent, turning over his options. He wasn't in the best situation right now, but it could be worse. It had been worse when those guys had tried to lynch him...
“You need supplies? I know a location where guns and ammo and explosives are stored.”
He was starting to sweat slightly as he kept the quilt wrapped around him, now he was too hot, but he wasn't going to complain about that after escaping the freezing cold.
“So tell us where to find it?” said Joy.
He looked at her, hesitating.
“You know I'm Mickey Silk. You know about my connections. This zombie outbreak thing could be over in a year, and then what? Are you going to run to your colleagues hoping to earn a promotion by busting me for gun smuggling?”
Joy gave a sigh.
“Normal rules don't apply any more, Mickey. If you have guns, we need them. And if this is over in a year, no, I won't be arresting you. Not if you help us.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Are you blackmailing me?”
“No, I'm trying to work with you!” she said sharply,”There are creatures roaming everywhere out there,” she gestured to the window, “And no one will make it to next year if we don't have the weapons to keep ourselves alive!”
He settled back, leaning cautiously into the softness of the sofa as it cushioned his bruises.
“Whitling Bay.”
He closed his eyes. River was packing away her medical bag as Joy looked hard at Mickey.
“What about it? That's miles away, it's on the bloody coast!”
He opened his eyes and looked up at her as he pulled the quilt up to his chin, savouring the warmth that had sunk to his bones, chasing out the last of the chill.
“Devil's Fork Point, there's a small dock yard there... that's how we had the guns brought in, avoiding the ports and customs. There's a warehouse close by, it's locked up and apparently storing crates of machine parts. It's not. It's full of guns. I will need a large vehicle, and I'm taking half the stock. You can have the rest for your people. Don't say I'm not a fair person. And I do need a ride out of here, then I need the ammo and the guns and that's when we part company, I'm going on to meet my sister. She and her people have a safe place, it's locked down and from there I can sit tight until this nightmare blows over. By the look on your face, I think we have a deal. I need to sleep now.”
He closed his eyes again, giving a tired sigh. As he drifted quickly into more much needed sleep, River glanced to Joy as she kept her voice low.
“I know supplies are running low. We are going to hit a crisis point here soon if we don't get out there and start searching for food and medication. We're almost out of antibiotics and it's still winter.”
“I was thinking the same,” Joy replied, looking to Mickey as he slept deeply, “And if he's telling the truth about the guns, maybe we should think about his deal.”
“People will say anything to get by these days,” River reminded her, “But, he's probably telling the truth, he's Flora Deering's brother – but it will be a long way home if he's lying. A long way with no weapons to use against those creatures.”
Joy made her decision.
“I think it's time to get out there and find supplies,” she said, “Let's worry about the guns later – we just need a few people willing to go out there and try and make it to the next town and back.”
“Count me in,” said River, “I'm the only doctor you've got and I know what medical supplies I need, I know what substitutes to use if certain meds are not available, too. And we do need to stay on top of the antibiotics before they run out.”
Joy paused for thought.
“Maybe Sage Hathaway could come along. She's a good shot, her father taught her too shoot a few years back. She wanted to volunteer to do night patrols, but she's got Poppy at home.”
“Maybe Poppy can stay with another family while she's gone.”
River looked at her doubtfully.
“All the families with kids shipped out as soon as the school incident happened,”she reminded her, “I'm sure someone can take her in. Sage can ask around, she's got a few good friends and neighbours still here.”
“Assuming she wants to take that risk,” Joy reminded her.
Just then they heard a knock at the door. The sudden tap of brass against wood gave them both a jolt as Joy exchanged a glance with River, w
ho smiled as she shook her head.
“Zombies don't knock!” she reminded her, and then Joy left the room.
As Joy returned, after closing the door firmly to shut out the cold and the fine snow drifting in on the ice wind, Curtis followed her into the room, apologising as he brushed snow from his hat and jacket and it melted in droplets on the carpet.
“Don't apologise for snow on the floor, there's bodies in the street past the barrier,” River replied.
“I know, I see them every day on watch duty,” Curtis agreed, taking off his gloves and rubbing cold hands together to try and get some warmth back to his bones as he turned to Joy, “I'm thinking about putting a group together to go out and look for supplies. We'd have to get to the town to do it, I'm thinking, one small lorry and a car. And I need people who can shoot.”
He said no more, looking at Joy as he awaited her answer. She didn't need to think about it.
“We just had this conversation,” she replied, “I agree it needs to be done. But Mickey Silk needs to come with us.”
Curtis looked to the sofa, where Mickey was curled up under a quilt as the fire crackled and he slept deeply.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because he has a warehouse full of guns,” River added, “There's just one problem, though – it's miles out.”
Curtis thought about it.
“He doesn't look tough enough to be a gun smuggler,” he remarked as Mickey carried on sleeping, “I mean, I've seen him in town in the bar with Flora a couple of times, but I don't even know if he can stand up to what might be out there.”
“We know what's out there, maybe none of us are tough enough,” Joy reminded him, “He needs a couple of days rest, we can leave after that.”
“And maybe Sage can come with us,” River added, “She's a good shot, should we need it.”
Joy felt her throat go tight at the thought of the undead, the sheer number of them out there.
“I think we both know we'll need all the help we can get,” she told her.
Curtis was still making plans.
“We have vehicles and fuel. We can leave as soon as we're ready.”
“Maybe some of the lads who do patrol duty can come along,” River suggested.
“And leave the village defenceless?” there was a flash of alarm in his eyes as Curtis looked at her, “No, River, we can't do that. We have to keep the group small and most importantly, keep quiet about leaving. There would be panic if people start realising how desperate the supply situation has got lately.”
Joy nodded.
“Good point,” she agreed.
Curtis put on his gloves and glanced reluctantly to the window, to a view of the icy world outside. It was a short walk back to the heart of the village, but it was freezing out there.
“I'll call on Sage, see if she's willing to take a chance,” he said.
“Would you like to stay for some soup?” River asked, “I was about to heat some over the fire.”
He shook his head.
“I'm okay, thanks. But he might need some,” he glanced to Mickey, who was still sleeping, then he said he would be in touch later, and left the house, closing the door quietly behind him.
“Would you like to stay for a while?” Joy asked.
“No, I need to get back home. I might have patients calling on me,” River replied, “Just keep him warm, let him rest – and tell him he's got a deal. We need those guns.”
“I'll do that,” Joy said, then River took up her medical bag and left the house.
The fire crackled warmly. Outside, fine snow was drifting on a wind that was losing strength, putting a while haze about the village as in that moment, it was easy to forget the hell the world had been plunged into as all she saw from the window was the view of the street and the houses across the road, all covered in a blanket of snow. But in the distance, she saw the fencing that shut off the road, visible in a gap between houses and far off, a reminder that beyond it, the world had been plunged into hell.
She turned from the window and left the room, went through to the kitchen and opened up an almost bare cupboard, taking out two tins of chicken soup. They did need to do this supply run. It had been inevitable from the start, and she didn't know if they would come back from it. But if Mickey was telling the truth about the guns - and it seemed likely he was, considering his life before the outbreak - if they made it as far as the coast, once heavily armed, they stood a good chance of making it home again. There was no choice involved in this, they had to go out there and hope for the best, because staying here behind the barrier and doing nothing was no longer an option...
Poppy lingered upstairs, looking over the balcony and into the hallway as voices drifted from the front room. Curtis had turned up, and he had handed over Sage's rifle, given to him on the way over by a guy who had mended the playground fence. Then Curtis had asked her sister to leave the village with him to look for supplies. As Poppy listened, her stomach went tight at the thought of her sister out there with all the monsters.
“Maybe Poppy can stay with Mrs Fisher?” she heard her sister say, “She used to be a teaching assistant at the school... and I know she'll keep quiet about why she's baby sitting.”
On top of her worry for her sister, Poppy felt a sting of anger...Babysitter? She was eleven!
“I'm not staying here,” she whispered, “I'm coming with you...”
Just then she heard Sage speak again.
“I need to get to the coast. Bess might be there, Whitling Bay was where we spent last summer. She said she'd get there if she couldn't make it back here...”
“I hope you find her,” Curtis replied.
“So do I,” said Sage, and then she walked out of the room and into the hallway and looked up in time to see a flash of Poppy's colourful striped jumper as she stepped back.
“Poppy?”
Her younger sister peered over the balcony and looked down.
“I need to tell you something,” said Sage, “I have to work with Curtis and a couple of others for a few days, there's stuff going on in the village to make the place safer - and I won't be home much so you might have to stay with Mrs Fisher for a while. Is that okay?”
Poppy forced a smile as she nodded. But her mind was already made up - she was going with Sage, she had seen what the monsters were like, and there was no way her sister was leaving without her...
The chicken soup had revived Mickey well as he sat there on the sofa, still wrapped in the quilt as he finished the last of it and set the mug down on the coffee table.
“Thanks,” he said, then he leaned back against the seat as pain registered on his face as he paused to rub at his aching back.
“Those painkillers are kicking in at last. I do appreciate this. You don't even know me, you only know of me and I'm sure what you've heard isn't good. Yes, I am a criminal...” he briefly smiled as he looked to Joy, who was sat in a chair by the fire, “I wouldn't have admitted that to a copper before the end came. And it is the end, probably. They say it could be over in a year, but how can we ever come back from something like this?”
“I try not to think about the future,” Joy replied, “I get through each day. Under the circumstances, I think we're all doing well to manage that.”
Mickey was suddenly aware of the silence that passed between them as he looked at Joy and she looked back at him. It had struck him she was rather attractive - for a copper. That thought made him want to laugh, as he guessed by the way their gaze had connected, she was probably thinking he wasn't bad for a criminal, either - but neither of them would say it. What would be the point now, when the world had turned to shit? They were about to go out there and leave the only place of safety in the hope of finding food and guns, and the world was crawling with the undead. It was so risky, it was insanity. He grabbed at the cover with his right hand, clutching at it with a slight degree of clumsiness and feeing suddenly aware of that fact as he straightened up the quilt that kept him warm.
&n
bsp; “I know what you're thinking, poor crippled guy beaten up by those thugs who tried to hang him... I bet it's a struggle to imagine me capable of conducting the kind of business my brother in law ran.”
Joy blinked, surprise registering in her gaze.
“No,” she said honestly, “I was just thinking, your suit was torn, and you didn't have a coat. I'll have to go into the village square and find you something warm to wear.”
She had said that so honestly. He felt his face flush as he silently cursed his own insecurity. It had happened every time he was attracted to a woman, even under these circumstances it was happening again, he thought about his weakness, his leg, his arm, his clumsy hand... She hadn't even noticed. Either that or she didn't care. Yes, she probably didn't care at all. The undead were outside this village tearing up the living when ever they got the chance. Of course she wasn't thinking about him, she was thinking about nothing past surviving the next day, then the days that followed, because everyone thought like that now, they had to, because the old world was gone...
“I was just thinking that maybe you think I can't handle myself out there. I can, Joy. I'm a lot more capable than I look. I got this far, I'll get all the way to the coast, too.”
“I don't doubt it,” Joy replied flatly, “You got this far in life selling guns to criminals without getting caught, I'm sure you're full of surprises.” Then she got up, took the mug from the table and left the room.
The next two days passed by in a cold haze of snow that stopped and started as day turned to icy night and back to day once more. By night open fires flickered in the distance as villagers huddled in groups by bonfires to keep warm as others stayed in their homes behind closed doors, warm at their own hearth. There had been a meeting in the village square about food rations. This time it was Mrs Fisher and the local vicar who had got the situation under control, she had reasoned that rations would last longer if everyone respected the need to share, and the vicar, elderly but still full of fight in the face of their struggle, had urged those among the people who still believed, to come to the church for prayer. The older members of the community had agreed prayer would be a good idea. Others had hurled abuse saying,