by Ian Woodhead
Jordan hit the thing again, this time the bat skidded across the top of its head. When he tried for a third time, Jenny stopped him. She wrapped her arms around his chest and pulled him back.
“Stop it, you idiot,” she shouted. “The poor bastard's done for, and so are we if we don't move!”
She jerked his head up. There were dozens more leaving houses, sliding out from under cars as well as appearing around corners. Jordan stopped counting when he past thirty. The woman took his wrist and dragged him back to the house.
“We'll have to shelter in here until they've finished with him and gone back to wherever the fuck they'd appeared from. Oh Christ, I didn't realise they were so many!” Jenny reached the front door and pulled him inside. She pushed him against the wall and eased the door shut. “It won't take them long. The woman shuddered. “Believe me, it doesn't take them more than a couple of minutes to strip a body down to the skeleton.”
He looked at the bat still gripped in his hand then dropped it onto the carpet. The other man was right, it really was a waste of time. Jordan shouldn't have gone back to get it. He should have listened to him. Jordan ran up the stairs and looked out of the window. There were even more of them now. He even recognised a few faces. Neighbours who he and Gail had gone drinking with or invited over for barbecues. There were even a couple of kids who Charlotte went to school with down there. Jordan turned when he heard the woman at the foot of the stairs.
“We had better find something to block the doors, Jordan. Just in case they do come this way.”
“No, we can't stay here,” he replied. Jordan walked back down the stairs, pushed past the woman and entered the kitchen. He chose the two largest knives he could find, they were from a set that Gail had bought in a sale several years ago. Jordan didn't think they'd even used them. He passed a plate full of vanilla slices that she had made yesterday. He had to turn away from Jenny to compose himself.
“Here, take this,” he said, handing her one of the knives.”
“What do you mean, we have to go? Have you seen how many there are out there? They'll cut us to pieces as soon as we step out of the door.”
Jordan shrugged. “It was your idea to find somewhere safe.” He looked out of the kitchen window. He could see a couple standing on next door's patio and one more slumped against the fence. He figured they could get past them easy enough. “Look for yourself, Jenny. There's only a few out there. Certainly nothing like the numbers out front. We have to go now. Leave it any longer and we'll never get out.” He licked his lips. “Believe me when I say this, Jenny. Once they've finished off Barry, they'll come for us next and that front door will only hold them for so long.”
“You don't know that.”
“Yes I do.” He had no idea how he knew but he wasn't going to question his conviction. Jordan only knew it was a fact. He pushed the knife into his belt and hurried over to the side door. “Where's the safe house?” he asked.
“They've moved to the pub in the middle of the town, the Horse and Crown. It's the only secure place they could find that's accessible to everyone. The town is pretty clear.” She shivered. “I can see why now, the bastards have all come back home.”
“It makes sense, I remember the TV, radio, and social media telling everyone to stay home and to let the authorities deal with this fuck up. The dead things feed on us, the living so they're just following their food source.”
Jenny stopped by the sink. She picked up one of the vanilla slices and took a small bite. “Tell me something Jordan cos I'm really fucking confused now. See, a few minutes ago, I could swear that you'd practically come apart at the seams. Yet, here you are, as calm as you like, knowing all the answers and acting like some macho action movie star. Was all that an act earlier?”
That broken man had not gone away, he still lurked under the surface, like some malignant weed, ready to burst through and flower. Jordan had no intentions of allowing that. He faced the woman. “Barry died because of me. My wife died because of me.” Jordan grabbed his trouser fabric to stop himself from wrapping his arms around her waist. “My own daughter died because of my ineptitude. Nobody else, Jenny. Do you understand?” He pulled open the side door before she had a chance to respond. “Listen to me,” he whispered. “We can't go back to the pub, we'll end up bringing the dead horde right to their door. I know where to go though. There's an old shop past the new shopping mall. There's everything we need to stay alive in there.”
The woman didn't follow him. She stayed beside that open door. When he turned and gestured that Jenny needed to follow him, the woman simply shook her head. All Jordan could do was to shrug. She had obviously made her decision. He turned away and ran over to the gate, keeping his eyes fixed on the two dead things on that patio. So far they hadn't noticed that food had just ran past them.
Jordan jumped over the gate at the same time, he heard a crashing noise coming from the other side of the house. The dead things were at the front door! He spun around hoping that this would persuade her to stop acting so stubborn and to follow him only to find that two were already halfway over the fence! He grabbed the gate and...
Chapter Four
Jordan ripped the sensenet off his head and threw it on the bed. How unfair was that? He was actually getting somewhere this time and Jordan had started to gain control of the situation. How this had come about was a complete mystery but he wasn't going to grumble. Jordan figured that his subconscious must have finally had enough of all that whiny, self-pitying, emotional bullshit and decided to do something about it. He'd seen enough zombie movies to know that the MC just didn't act like that. The hero wasn't supposed to go to pieces like some namby-pamby big girl's blouse. Oh no, he picked up a golf club or baseball bat and twatted his way through the dead bastards until the streets ran with their freezing blood.
He chuckled to himself. Maybe he was getting a bit too carried away there. Jordan unwrapped a protein bar, stuffed it into his mouth and chewed while contemplating what to do next. According to the instructions, the game wouldn't allow the user to immediately jump back in after a session, apparently there was time limit. He pulled the leaflet from the box and double-checked. There is was, in black and white, so he was basically stuffed. Jordan wouldn't be able to dive back into his game for another three hours. Fuck, did that mean that he'd pick up the narrative with him trying to save Jenny from the dead things climbing over that fence? He sighed. Somehow, he figured that would be the least of his problems. From what he'd discovered, Necrovoid had a pretty steep learning curve. By the time he did persuade the girl to follow him, chances are that the corpses from the other side of the house would be on their tail too, meaning he might end up in the same situation as the first game. Would it be worth doing another reset?
Well, he'd have to find out when the game finally did let him back inside. To be honest it was probably a good thing anyway. He was already dead on his feet. The last game had already knackered him out. How it was even possible to feel so tired when his body hadn't moved for two hours was beyond him. Nevertheless, he couldn't deny how he felt. Perhaps it would be best to skip the movie altogether, have an early night and start again in the morning when he felt bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?
Jordan grabbed the remaining protein bar and unwrapped it while climbing off the bed. He padded over to the window and leaned on the windowsill. Jordan rested his forehead on the cool glass and gazed down onto the street below. Sure was quiet out there tonight. Weird considering it had just gone nine. From where he stood, Jordan could see most of the town centre, including the one off-licence right in the middle where the local kids tried to buy their booze. Most of the time, the owner told them to piss off but, if they were lucky, the wife would be serving and she didn't care how old you were as long as you had the money to pay for it. Even he had managed to procure a four pack of strong lager from Mrs Hussain back in the day. She had no morals. The woman would have made to terrific arms dealer.
The shop nearly always had a f
ew kids hanging around. Not this time. In fact, he saw no movement at all, not even a taxi.
“Okay, so this is a bit weird.” Jordan took a bite from the protein bar, intending to savour this one at all costs. Perhaps they were all playing out their own Necrovoid game? As daft as that sounded, it could be a possibility. The game had broken all records, becoming the fastest selling game ever. It wasn't just the geeks like him who'd snagged themselves a copy. This damn game had spanned the generations.
Jordan finally spotted a young couple walking down Fingle lane, holding hands. The game might have taken the country by storm but he still doubted their were that many players in his backwards town of Greyfield Flats. Well apart from him and a few others who'd emptied the shelves of Digital Dreams, the town's only stockist of anything vaguely interesting.
He knew of at least one local who grabbed a game. A certain Barry Davis. Jordan wasn't too sure how he felt about Necrovoid splicing bits of his life into the narrative. He couldn't work out if it was a work of genius or slightly creepy. Then again, it wouldn't be the first time that anyone had mistaken his mate for a NPC. Even though the Barry in his game was one.
Maybe he hadn't done all that bad considering it had only been his second go? He decided against going for a reset. Okay, so he'd lost Barry but he didn’t think that was a bad thing. Jordan wasn’t too keen on what the game had done to his best mate anyway. No way was Barry like that in real life. He nodded to himself. Yeah, that character was better off as zombie food. He still had the lovely Jenny so that was a bonus. He just needed to persuade her to follow him to that damn shop. That shouldn't be a problem once she realised that there was no other option. As for the following horde, he'd soon sort them out once he found those shells. The knife his character carried ought to make short work of that dead thing in there.
God, why was he so hungry? There were still three slices left on that plate but Jordan craved something savoury. He gazed out onto the street again. Living so close to the town centre meant he had plenty of choices for hot food within walking distance. Normally he'd order online but as the town looked like a morgue, Jordan decided to stretch his legs, confident they he wouldn't bump into any of the local dickheads.
Something to eat followed by a few hours kip is just what the doctor ordered. Jordan had no problem with getting up in the middle of the night so he could plug himself back into Necrovoid. It's not like he had any fear of his family disturbing him, not at that time. He doubted he'd see any of them until the afternoon. On a Saturday evening, mum and dad put away a large amount of booze between them!
He left the bedroom and made his way downstairs, passing one of his sister’s old cuddly toys lying on a step. It didn't shock him in the least that it was a small blue teddy, just like one that Charlotte had dropped in the game.
Once again, Necrovoid had found another way to fuck with his head. Jordan unlocked the front door, opened it and stepped out into the cool night. No doubt, as he became more engrossed in the game's narrative, he'd see more and more objects and people he saw on a daily basis spliced into the plot. Jordan grinned at the possible prospect of shooting his zombie sister in the face. Oh yeah, he'd be able to do that more than once!
Jordan walked past the chip shop. Despite the mouth watering odours of fresh battered fish and chips, smothered in salt and vinegar drifting out of the open doorway, his stomach had already decided that that only type of food needed to satisfy the raging beast was a large donner kebab. That choice pleased Jordan as they only took a couple of minutes to prepare, meaning he'd be able to get home sooner. Being out at this late hour on a Saturday night made him nervous, even though he still only had himself for company.
The dazzling lights from Amir's Snack Shed on the other side of the road called to him. This was his favourite takeaway in town, He ate from here at least twice a week. From this side of the road he saw the young proprietor laughing with another staff member. It felt so odd to actually see them in person.
His stomach chose that moment to ruin the nostalgia remind him that the warm pitta bread, spicy, sliced lamb and chilli sauce won't magically appear in his hand. He took three steps across the empty road when Jordan found it wasn't as empty as he first thought. Another set of dazzling lights blinded him.
“Get out of the bloody road, you retarded clown. Are you trying to get yourself knocked down, or something?”
Jordan's heart almost jumped out of his mouth. He stumbled backwards until his heels slammed against the kerb. Christ, he hadn't even heard the car's engine. What was wrong with him? There were more than a few dickhead drivers in town who wouldn't have stopped.
The dark estate rolled forward until the driver's door was level with Jordan. The window rolled down. “Are you on drugs?” yelled the man inside. “I nearly hit you.”
“I'm sorry. I guess I wasn't looking where I was going.”
“You got that right.”
The driver leaned forward, pushing his head out of the window. Whatever calmness that had found its way back into Jordan's mind vanished again when he saw the man's face. He stepped back again, forgetting he'd reached the kerb, and fell onto the pavement.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Look at him. He is on drugs.”
The man driving the car shouldn't exist! He is only supposed to be a fucking game character, lying dead on the dusty floor in that shop holding the shotgun. This can't be happening. What the hell is going on?
“Barry, Will you stop messing about! If we don't get Charlotte to the hospital, she's going to die. Leave the loser be and put your foot down.”
He knew that voice! Jordan got to his knees, just as the driver wound his window up. The car set off. “Wait!” he cried. Jordan jumped up and ran after the speeding car. Moments before it turned off the high street, another face appeared in the rear window. He moaned to himself at the sight of Jenny staring back at him.
Jordan stood in the middle of the road, panting like an old race-horse, aware that both Amir and his fellow employee were stood outside their shop, arms folded, while staring at him. No doubt wondering what the hell had just happened. They weren't the only ones either.
He could understand Necrovoid splicing the people he knew into the game but how the hell did that work with total strangers? Unless he did know them? Back before he left school and turned into what mum called, a digital hermit, he must have passed dozens of people every day either walking to school or going out shopping with his parents. Jordan couldn't remember all of them, and yet, their faces were probably still locked away inside his mind, just waiting for some piece of invasive software to pluck them out.
Jordan hadn't thought about it like that before. The idea of some quasi-intelligent piece of code rummaging through his mind made him question his new obsession. Did he really want to put that sensenet over his head again?
Like he didn't already know the answer to that one? Okay, Jenny and the dead guy existed in reality as well. So what? Instead of blaming the game for doing what it was programmed to do, the easiest solution was to not go outside until he'd completed the Necrovoid narrative. It made more sense to him. Jordan hadn't been too crazy about going out anyway.
Still, he was here now, and his stomach still needed filling. The two shopkeepers vanished back into the shop when Jordan glanced over his shoulder. If he walked inside, they were bound to ask him questions, to try to initiate a conversation.
His natural urge to find some-place to hide away from this potential confrontational encounter was nowhere to be found. He simply spun towards the shop and slowly walked across the rest of the road.
He wanted that donner kebab.
Chapter Five
He lay on top of the bed covers, listening to the sparrows and starlings fight over whatever scraps Mrs Spicer will have thrown onto her bird table this morning. Jordan closed his eyes and listened to their noisy scrapping, wondering what she had given them this morning. Mrs Spicer, although well-meaning and usually pleasant had been slowly losing her marbles for
the past several years. The sparrows and starlings could expect anything from stale bread, to unopened ready meals all the way to old shoes and newspapers.
The birds around here were better fed than the town's only homeless guy. Well, were when she actually put out something edible. Still, those birds managed to make good of a straw hat that Mrs Spicer placed on top of the bird table last Wednesday.
Jordan tried to imagine the homeless guy wearing that hat and found himself chuckling. Yeah, that would be a sight to see. He wondered what the old guy was called. As far as he knew nobody in town knew his proper name, they either called him Jesus, due to his appearance or insulted the poor bastard. Jordan decided that if he ever saw him again, he'd buy him a bottle of glue and a bag of feathers then show him where his insane neighbour lived.
When he found the energy to move, Jordan decided to throw the remains of last night's meal to the birds. From what he could remember, it hadn't been very nice. Jordan turned to the left. There it was, thrown on the floor, splashes of chilli sauce and garlic mayo had already dried into the Blue carpet weave. Mum would throw a right fit if he didn't get those stains out. The kebab must have fallen off the bed when he'd turned over.
Jordan slowly sat up and rubbed his temples. The wall clock told him it had just gone two in the afternoon. Bloody hell! He'd slept for almost sixteen hours! Jordan pulled the remaining vanilla slice off the plate. The morning sure had turned the sweet into a slimy, sticky mess and half of it stayed on the plate when he pried it off. Not that he cared, it just meant consuming this delicacy would be more of a challenge.
He watched the second hand travel around the clock while listening to bird song and licking icing off his fingers. The Necrovoid box lay where he last put it, untouched from his second go. Jordan hadn't entered that strange digital world after coming home. He'd just eaten half of that disgusting kebab, had a drink of water to cleanse his palette then fallen asleep.