The Z Trilogy Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Whittington, Shaun

  Killing it wasn’t going to help the human race. There were millions of those things out there, so was killing one, a small one at that, going to benefit us?

  I didn’t think so.

  Chapter Nine

  The rest of the afternoon passed by lazily, and despite this being the first day that I had met Emma and the first time I had actually spoken to a human in a very long time, we became a little bored with each other’s company.

  Emma said that she wanted to rest a little, not necessarily nap, and I assumed that she needed some time to herself and away from me. I wanted the same.

  She left the living room and went upstairs to one of the bedrooms. I pulled the patio’s roller blind down to the floor, but could still see the shadow of Annie behind it. I lay on the couch and hummed a few Radiohead tunes in my head. I missed music so much. Of course, I missed my family terribly, but music was one of the other dozen things that I missed and took for granted before all of this.

  It was the evening and I had surprisingly managed to drift off. I woke up, confused and disorientated. I sat up, rubbed my head and then realised where I was and what was happening.

  I then wondered what had happened to Emma. Was she still upstairs?

  I received an answer straightaway when I heard footsteps coming from upstairs. It was taking a while for Emma to reach the ground floor. I got to my feet, both knees cracking, and walked out of my back room and reached the bottom of the stairs.

  “Emma, are you okay?” I called up.

  I received no answer, so I tried again.

  I waited patiently for an answer, but never got one.

  “Emma!” I called up.

  “Shaun!” She sounded like she was in the front bedroom, Poppy’s room.

  “What is it?”

  “You need to see this shit.”

  I ran upstairs, expecting there to be a horde of those DCs, as Emma called them, in the street. Once I reached my daughter’s bedroom, I walked in and stood next to Emma who was peering out of the almost closed blinds. It was the wrong time, but I began to stare at her large breasts as she was looking out. Jesus, she certainly had a decent set of melons on her. Or jigglypuffs, as my son used to call them.

  Eventually I asked, “What is it?”

  “Take a look.”

  So I did. There was no horde, but I witnessed something that was just as frightening.

  A red pickup was parked outside, on the other side of the road, and an argument was taking place. Four men standing by the pickup were quarrelling with a man who was standing outside his house, holding a baseball bat. My eyes looked up to the bedroom window of the house and I could see a woman holding her daughter, I presumed. I had lived there for many years, and yet I had no idea who they were.

  It took a minute, but it was beginning to make sense.

  The four guys were wanting in the house, or at least some of the things that were inside it, and the man with the bat was trying to protect his family. With the windows closed and the melee appearing over the road, raised voices could be heard, but what they were actually saying was impossible to hear.

  Going by the body language of the guy with the bat, he was fighting a losing battle and knew it. The man was almost in tears, frantically swinging the bat whenever one of the four men made a sudden move. Some of the men were laughing, teasing him, and one of them looked up to the bedroom window where his wife and daughter were and was pointing at them, waving at them and blowing them kisses.

  Emma turned to me and said, “What shall we do about this?”

  I was unsure what she meant and asked her, “What do you mean?”

  “We can’t just stand here while those cocks are menacing that family.”

  “I think you’ll find we can, and we will.”

  “But … Shaun…”

  “Emma, I’m not risking my life for people I don’t know. I need to stay alive for my family.”

  She puffed out a breath and looked annoyed. “Well, I can’t go out on my own.”

  “Let’s just see what happens.”

  “You said that you need to stay alive for your family.” Emma slowly turned her head and gazed at me, producing a thin smile under her nose. “And how long have they been missing?”

  I gulped. “Since the beginning, as you already know.”

  “Six months,” she sighed.

  “Y-yes.”

  “Do you honestly think your family are still alive?”

  Her question was like being stabbed in the gut. I felt ill when she said it.

  Was I kidding myself? It had been six months. Of course they were dead, weren’t they?

  Emma turned to face out the window and I did the same. She gasped as one of the four men tried to grab the bat. He received a smack to his body for his troubles, but the bat-wielding father was finally overpowered by the other three guys. The bat was taken off the man and all four men circled him and began to kick him. I had no idea how long they had kicked him for. It felt like ages, but it was probably just under a minute. Once they moved away from him, the man was motionless.

  “Shit,” I said. “Do you think he’s dead?”

  We watched as a heavy man, grey beard, wearing a white vest, picked up the bat off of the floor and struck the lying man across the head. The blood began to pour out of his head and was pooling on the pavement.

  Said Emma calmly, “He is now.”

  What we were seeing was horrific, but we couldn’t help watching, still peering out from the blinds. The four men went into the house, we assumed to get the woman and little girl, and came out within a minute.

  The elderly man with the vest exited the house, bat in hand, and stood next to his pick-up. Another man, a skinny fellow, came out of the house with the little girl under his arm. The other two men were dragging out the screaming woman by her arms.

  They threw her to the floor, and the skinny man slapped her across the face, making the child scream for her mummy. Then they began to go into the house whilst the leader stayed put, making sure that the woman and her daughter didn’t move. They were ransacking the house and putting objects from the place in the back of the van. Two minutes had passed and the men appeared to have finished with their thieving episode.

  “Oh God, I can’t watch,” cried Emma.

  But she did.

  We both watched as they tied the woman up and threw her in the back of the pick-up as if she was a piece of meat. The men began to get back into the vehicle, one in the front and two in the back with the woman, whilst the leader hung about. The little girl was crying, on her knees, and the grey haired man brought the bat back, ready to strike.

  “Jesus Christ!” exclaimed Emma.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” was my reaction.

  This time we did look away, the pair of us, but we were still, and neither one of us moved away from the window. Once the pair of us heard the vehicle pull away, we slowly turned our heads back out to the window and stared out.

  Emma looked out for no longer than a second, then moved away and went downstairs. I remained transfixed. I don’t know how many times the little thing had been struck, maybe once, maybe more, but the poor soul lay on the pavement, head bashed in and bleeding out. It was a sin to leave her out there for the crows, so I made a conscious decision to scoop her up and give her a burial. It was risky going out there, but I was determined to do it. It was obvious what was going to happen to the woman. Once those sick fucks had had their ‘fun’ with the woman, she was also going to be killed.

  Before I could move, I saw two men creep out of the house, three doors down from where the little girl stayed, and one of the men was holding a sheet.

  They had beaten me to it.

  The sheet was carefully placed over the girl and the men then picked her up, one had the arms, the other had the legs. It looked like they were taking her round to their back garden, possibly to bury the little thing, and this made my eyes fill. The men returned and also took the father away as well. Like Em
ma and I, the two men must have watched helplessly at what was happening to the family. Some would argue that they could have helped, but I also did nothing.

  In the space of a few minutes, I had seen human savagery and kindness. This apocalypse had turned people into monsters, but there were still some good ones out there.

  Eventually, I moved away and went downstairs to see how Emma was doing. She sat, staring into space. I told her what had happened afterwards, after the little girl was killed, but she never responded.

  I thought for a few seconds and told Emma that I was going next door.

  “What for?” she asked, and tried to make a joke. “For a cup of sugar?”

  “I think you and I need a drink,” I replied.

  “Have they got any?”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  I left the back room and headed upstairs, to my attic.

  Ten minutes later I returned with a bottle of brandy.

  Chapter Ten

  “I’ve only had two.” Emma smiled as I poured her another brandy. “I already feel tipsy.”

  “That’s because I’ve been pouring large ones.” I looked at the bottle. It appeared that we had drunk half of it, and I was feeling a little soused myself. “Sorry I’ve got no coke.”

  After the incident over the road, I felt that the pair of us needed this to help us sleep. It seemed a silly thing to do, considering the situation we were in, but it was just one night of escapism.

  We talked about our childhood and it appeared that Emma wasn’t local. She had moved to Lichfield a few years ago. Originally she was from Alrewas, a small place that was wedged inbetween Armitage and Fradley, and had moved to Lichfield a while back for a fresh start after a bad break up.

  “I wonder what the outcome of all of this will be,” Emma blurted out. She looked drunk and I thought that it’d be for the best if we stopped drinking. She finished her glass and shook it, telling me to top her up. I did as she requested.

  “I have no idea.” I sighed and leaned back on the couch next to Emma, my mind going off on a wander.

  “Thinking about your family?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Think about them all the time.”

  “I miss my brother.” Emma began playing with her blonde curls with her finger. “And my best mate, Jade.”

  “I wish I could say the same for my brother.”

  “Bad news was he?” Emma then cleared her throat and apologised. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say was.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Did he stay far? Your brother?”

  “Not far.” I began to laugh, but this confused Emma.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “He’s an inmate.”

  “What?”

  “Got sent down. Stays in Stafford prison.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  I left my glass full of brandy on the arm of the chair and put both palms on my head. I began to yawn and added, “We were hardly close. Kevin was always a bad bugger, even when we were young.”

  “Some people get on the wrong path and can’t seem to get off it.”

  “That’s one way of looking at it.” I didn’t agree with Emma, but decided not to have an argument about it. Kevin wasn’t forced into anything. He had made his choices, and most of them were bad ones.

  “What was he like?”

  “I hardly knew him, if the truth be told,” I laughed. “I have no idea if he’s dead or not. I suppose being in prison he could have starved to death. It’s not something I like to think about. He wasn’t my favourite person, especially as he used to torment me, but I wouldn’t want him to end that way.”

  The pair of us sat in quiet for a moment and sipped our drinks. I could hear Emma take an intake of breath and I waited for her next question. I had just told her that my brother was a con, so she was obviously curious.

  “So … what did he do?”

  I didn’t exactly understand her question. “To get inside, or to me as a kid?”

  “What did he do to you?”

  I laughed and thought of a couple of incidents from the past. “Just brother stuff. He beat me up once.”

  “Really? What happened?”

  “My brother, Kevin, punched me in the face and threw me downstairs when we were teenagers. I borrowed his shirt for a night out. I came back the following morning with it ripped and stained. He wasn’t impressed.”

  “That’s a bit over the top, don’t you think?”

  I nodded and said, “That’s Kevin for you. He gave me a doing a couple of years after that, for a similar incident, then threatened to knife me. That’s when my parents decided to kick him out.”

  “Shit. So how did he get put away?”

  I hunched my shoulders and said, “To be honest, I don’t know. But once he was put away, my parents disowned him. I visited a few times, but they kind of tapered off after a while. It was obvious that he didn’t want me there anyway.”

  “When was the last time you spoke to Kevin?”

  “A few years ago. We spoke on the phone. He told me that he had got involved in some prison gang with a drug dealer. He even admitted that he and this guy were having a relationship, some guy called Harry.”

  “I suppose it can get lonely being banged up all day, especially during the night.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Shaun?” Emma said with a slur.

  “Yes?”

  She was beginning to get emotional, and I wasn’t sure if it was the booze that was making her this way. “Thanks … for everything. Thanks for taking me in.”

  “No problem.” I smiled at her.

  “I think I’m gonna go to bed. I feel a bit pissed.”

  “You sure?”

  She nodded. “I do crazy shit when I’ve had a few. Another drink and I’d probably end up wanking you off, or pulling my knickers to one side and letting you play hide the sausage.”

  I snickered and nodded. I was feeling a little soused myself. “Take my bed upstairs. I’m gonna stick with the couch.” I didn’t want to offer her one of my kids’ beds. It didn’t feel right to me. She was an adult.

  Emma stood up and swayed a little. I asked if she needed a hand getting upstairs, but she waved me away.

  “Good night, Emma…” I screwed my face in thought. “Hang on. I don’t know your second name.”

  “It’s Rowley,” she said as she staggered away.

  “Good night, Emma Rowley.”

  “Good night, Shaun…”

  “Peterson.”

  “Peterson,” she giggled. “Yeah, that’ll do.”

  “Sleep well.”

  Emma groaned as she made her way up the stairs, and said with a slur “Last time I got this drunk, I ended up shitting the bed.”

  “Well, please don’t do that,” I said, unsure whether she was joking or not.”

  “I’ll try.”

  I dropped my head in my hands. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

  PART THREE

  Chapter Eleven

  I had slept on the leather couch in the back room. I was still in my clothes, wearing my black jogging bottoms and a T-shirt, and tried to lift my head up.

  Jesus, it felt like I had been hit by a sledgehammer.

  I tried again, and this time I managed to sit up, although the room span and my head pounded like a fucker. I had forgot why I was in such a state, and then I looked over to my cupboard, where the plasma TV hung on the wall above it, and saw the empty bottle of Napoleon brandy.

  I could hear the footsteps from above and then could hear Emma making her way downstairs. Like me, I assumed she was still feeling a little drunk, and then I heard her slip on one of the stairs and yelled out, “Ah, you fucking cunt!”

  She walked into the living room and groaned when she looked over at me.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked her.

  “Rough as a badger’s arse. Nearly broke my ankle on those stairs.” She then cupped her hand, checked her breath and wince
d. “My mouth feels as if a cat has taken a shit in it.”

  “What were we thinking?” I laughed, but that made my head worse.

  Emma said, “Well, at least we didn’t sleep with each other. Did we?”

  I shook my head, ever so gently.

  “I tend to have a habit of noshing men off when I’ve had a few.”

  I didn’t respond to Emma’s comment. How do you respond to that?

  I tried to joke, referring to a comment she had made the night before, “And at least you didn’t shit the bed.”

  Emma scrunched her eyes and thought.

  “You didn’t. Did you?”

  She smiled and shook her head.

  Emma had told me that she was going to the kitchen. She didn’t say what for, but I said okay without asking why she was going to that particular room in the house. I then remembered that we had told each other our surnames before departing. I wondered what time it was. I somehow managed to get to my feet without falling over, and then made baby steps to my three-foot high cupboard where my watch sat.

  The cupboard had two main doors on each side.

  On the left side we stored the kids’ games like Buckaroo, Frustration and Operation, as well as their iPads. On the right door was usually wine and other spirits, but I had drank them before the first month was up. At first it was the only way I could sleep when I stayed in the attic. As time grew, so did my confidence concerning my safety. Then I began sleeping in my bed, sometimes on the couch.

  In the middle of the cupboard there were four drawers. But it was just crap that was stored in them. There was stuff like headphones, my phone that had died ages ago, a battery charger, some daft notes as well as other shit.

  “I’m going back to bed,” Emma announced, making me jump.

  “Jesus,” I moaned and turned around to see her by the doorframe, yawning. In fairness, she did look like she had been beaten with a baseball bat and then dragged through a hedge. Okay, so I’m exaggerating. “I thought you were in the kitchen.”

  “I was, but now I’m going to get my head down for another hour or so,”

  “Okay.”