Ruin

by G G Garcia

  “So ... if ya theory is correct, then basically what ya sayin’ is that we’re all screwed.”

  “Pretty much.”

  Lisa stood up and moaned when her knees cracked as she walked slowly to the kitchen.

  “And where are you going?” Mel asked her.

  “That’s a stupid question, isn’t it?” She stood by the kitchen door and held out her hands. “I’m obviously going into the kitchen. Anyone want a coffee?”

  Both Paul and Melvin nodded.

  Once Lisa disappeared into the kitchen, Melvin cleared his throat and said, “Look, I’m sorry about locking you in the shed. We freaked out and thought this was some kind of real life Dawn of the Dead shit we were going through.”

  “Ya don’t have to explain,” Paul said with a smile. “I knew I was okay. I just went along with it. It was either that or ya’d kick me out. And I needed to stay here because my friends are only a few hundred yards away, yet gettin’ to them is too dangerous at the moment.”

  “Are you asking if you can stay longer?”

  Paul hunched his shoulders and gave off a wry smile. “I could stay in the shed, if it’s a problem. It wasn’t that bad, and I managed to get a decent nap.”

  “Don’t be daft.” Melvin scratched at his ear and said, before Paul had a chance to ask, “And don’t worry about that tart.” He nodded in the direction of the kitchen. “I’ll talk her round. Sending you out there would be a death sentence.”

  “It’s just until it’s safe enough for me to get my friends and then go home.” Paul thanked Melvin and asked, “Do ya think Lisa will be okay about it?”

  “Don’t worry,” Melvin began to chuckle. “If she starts any of her shit, I’ll give her a kick in the flaps.”

  The pair of them laughed and could hear the kettle in the kitchen coming to the boil.

  Lisa walked into the living room, carrying two hot mugs of coffee. She had a scowl on her face and asked what Melvin and Paul were laughing at.

  “Laughing?” said Melvin.

  Lisa plonked down the mugs on the coffee table and said, “I could hear the two of you giggling like a couple of schoolboys.”

  “It’s nothing, my sweet cherry pie,” Melvin cackled. “We’re just laughing in the face of death.”

  “Bloody pair of weirdos,” she huffed. She sat on the couch next to Melvin, whereas Paul was at the far end of the living room, in the armchair. “This is frightening shit. I’m just glad it’s just us two. Thank Christ we don’t have kids.”

  “Oh.” Paul looked over at the married couple and realised that there were no photographs of any family members. He said, “I didn’t know that the two of ya had no children. Why’s that?”

  There was an uncomfortable silence and husband and wife gaped at one another for a second. Paul had said something that had upset the couple, but it was quickly shrugged off by Mel’s wife.

  “It was a blessing not having kids.” Lisa huffed.

  “Oh.” Paul wasn’t sure if to ask the next query. “Didn’t ya want any?”

  “What? And have him as a father?” She pointed at Melvin, next to her. “I wouldn’t let him look after a yard brush, never mind a kid.”

  “Charming,” Mel muttered. “Keep up with that tone, my love, and you’ll be getting a punch in the beef curtains.”

  Paul was about to open his mouth and ask, once more, why on earth the couple were still together, if they disliked one another so much, but Lisa shushed everyone and put the TV onto mute.

  “What is it, pepper pot?” Melvin said softly, and could see that Lisa looked agitated.

  “I can hear a noise. There could be somebody outside the house.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Helen Jameson stood to her feet and looked at her three guests. All three had had naps and had only been awake for over an hour. She asked if they wanted something to eat, but all said no.

  Another half hour had passed and John and Helen’s son had decided to go back to his bedroom. He took his phone with him and tried to contact his pals via texts and social media.

  “Well, if you’re still here by the afternoon,” Helen addressed her three guests, “which I’m sure you will be, I can rustle you something up from our kitchens downstairs.”

  “Thanks.” Demi was the only one to verbally respond out of the three of them, whereas Tony and Craig only managed a polite smile, and Helen continued.

  She said, “It’s not as if we’re going to be opening up for business today, is it? I could do you some bacon and eggs.”

  “Haven’t we run out of eggs?” John asked his wife. “I think we were waiting on the Monday morning delivery.”

  “I think there’s a stash in the cellar. The one behind the bar.”

  Both Tony and John glared at one another. Tony gestured with his head for the landlord to tell his wife what was in the cellar, but John grinded his teeth and shook his head at his male guest.

  “Um ... Tony,” John spoke up. “Can I have a moment of your time?”

  Tony looked surprised and asked, “What for?”

  “Think I might barricade the main door,” John told his wife. “Just in case. Tony, can you give me a hand?”

  “I thought you said those doors are solid,” said Helen.

  “It’s just to be on the safe side.” Her husband smiled.

  “I’ll help.” Craig was about to stand up, but John told him to sit down and that he and Tony should be able to manage just fine.

  John gestured with his forefinger for Tony to follow him downstairs. Tony got off his backside and did just that. He went over to Craig and gave him Paul’s car keys.

  “What are you giving me them for?” Craig asked.

  “Just look after them for a bit,” said Tony. “They’re digging into my thigh every time I walk.”

  Craig took the keys and put them in the front pocket of his brown cords.

  Once Tony Willetts was at the bottom of the stairs, where John was waiting for him, the landlord of The Wolseley Arms pub began to speak.

  “Listen,” John began. “We need to get rid of that thing now. I don’t know what the shit I was thinking, leaving it down there.”

  “Just leave it there,” said Tony. “It’s not going anywhere, is it?”

  John shook his head, placed his right hand on his forehead, and began to shake it. “If Helen finds out, she’ll go off her tits.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Don’t worry about it?” John found it hard to control his temper at Tony’s serene response.

  “Just tell her the truth, man, and stop fannying about,” said Tony, and then began to crack his knuckles. “Tell her what you told me. You got up, found some woman in the car park. You asked if she was okay, and then she attacked you, and you managed to wrestle her and threw her into the cellar so she could calm down. You put the TV on and then realised what she was.”

  “If she finds out I brought one of those things in here...”

  “You didn’t know what it was ... what it is.”

  “Don’t matter now.” John Jameson puffed out a breath and added, “We need to get rid of it ... to get rid of her.”

  Tony asked the question, but was dreading the answer. “And how are we supposed to do that?”

  John told Tony to follow him and jumped over the bar. He pulled out a baseball bat from behind the bar and said to a shocked Tony, “You could use a knife, if you prefer.”

  “Me?” Tony shook his head. “No, no, no. I’ve already killed one by running it over. I don’t wanna be killing any more folk.”

  “If you want to stay here for a while,” John said. “You need to earn your shittin’ keep.”

  “This is your place.” Tony was incensed by John’s emotional blackmail. “You brought her in, so you take care of her. And if you try and kick me out, I’ll tell Helen everything.”

  “You cunt,” John huffed, then raised a smile, lifting the bat. “You’re right. May as well get the first one out of the way.”<
br />
  “Who is it anyway?” Tony asked. “Is it someone you know or just a random stranger?”

  “Her name’s Tracy,” John said with a straight face.

  “So you knew her then?”

  “No.” John shook his head. His face never cracked. “I just made that up. I have no shittin’ idea who the bint is.”

  Tony shook his head, unimpressed with John’s dark humour, and went behind the bar and crouched down. His hand was on the handle, ready to open the door in the floor. “Let’s get it over with.”

  “Okay.” John sighed and went over to Tony. He flicked a switch at the side of the bar, which Tony correctly assumed was the light to the cellar, and John Jameson opened the trap door and looked at Tony.

  “If I’m not back in five minutes, then just wait a little longer.”

  Tony looked down into the cellar, but couldn’t see any sign of the infected female.

  “Can’t see her,” Tony said in a whisper.

  “Oh, she’s down there,” John snickered a little, but Tony could see there were nerves. “Trust me.”

  He took his first step and John Jameson began to make the nervous and slow descent, constantly looking downwards and to his side, trying to avoid any nasty surprises. Tony’s eyes were transfixed on the landlord, as he continued with his slow descent, and was half-expecting the infected female to emerge from out of nowhere and take John down.

  Thankfully, it never happened.

  Tony’s attention was suddenly distracted when he heard the sound of running feet.

  “What the...?”

  He could hear the sound coming from outside, and Tony couldn’t help himself. He left the bar area and jogged over to the front windows of the pub and peered out from behind the curtains.

  He waited and waited, but he couldn’t see anything or anyone.

  He then gasped when a female with a green silky shirt went by, but Tony was unsure whether it was a scared person or one of the infected. It was hard to tell by appearances alone. The infected were still alive, they still had colour in their cheeks, and they still breathed. They were still human beings, but their bodies were contaminated by something that was unexplainable.

  Somebody must have known something! Somebody must have known what had caused this catastrophe!

  Tony watched as the individual went over the Wolseley Bridge and disappeared, and once there was nothing else to be seen, Tony then went back over to the bar, and back over to the cellar door. He could see that John was almost at the bottom, with the baseball bat still in his hand.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Something coming our way.” Paul Newbold stood and approached the front window with caution. His ears had picked something up, and the intrigue was too strong to ignore. It only sounded like one individual, and if it did clock him, he was sure that he could take care of it.

  “What is it?” Melvin asked, but Paul shushed him. “Lisa’s right. Something’s outside.”

  Lisa sat on the chair, biting her nails, whereas Melvin peered at the side of the window with Paul still at the other side.

  They both gasped when they saw a female appear to their left side. She had stopped running and was now walking briskly and constantly twisted her neck, looking from side to side, as if she was looking for something or someone.

  She looked directly at the window and both males could see her bloodshot eyes, her mouth salivating, and her arms by her side with her fists clenched. If this was any other day, Paul would have thought that the young dark haired woman was lost and anxious, or on drugs, but she was tainted. She was one of the Savage Ones, as one news channel called them, or Savs for short. But most news channels called them IOs, and had been calling them that since the phrase was coined by a medical expert from Glasgow University.

  She stopped walking and stood still, staring down the Wolseley Road, breathing heavily.

  “Wit do we do?” Paul asked Melvin.

  “No idea,” said Melvin. “Could always asked her in for a cup of tea.”

  Paul looked to the side, at Melvin, to see if he was joking. He could see a small smirk on Melvin’s face. Of course he was joking!

  “Fuck it,” Melvin huffed. “I need a piss.”

  He released the curtain and walked away, but a cuss from Paul stopped Melvin in his tracks.

  “What is it?” Melvin whispered.

  “I think she spotted the curtain move, ya daft prick.” said Paul.

  “What’s she doing?” Lisa asked. She was now standing up, next to Melvin, both petrified. A rare show of affection between the pair of them occurred, and the nervous pair held hands.

  Paul looked outside as the female stood awkwardly, her head tilted to the side, still gazing at the window.

  She snarled and this made Paul’s heart skip a beat. He gulped hard and received more queries from the frightened couple behind him. He never answered. The truth was he was too frightened to move, to speak, and the anxious stare off between him and the infected female continued.

  The infected female threw her leg back, as if she was preparing to run at the window, and this made Paul quiver with fright.

  “Surely not,” he said softly.

  “What’s wrong?” Melvin asked.

  “Get a weapon from the kitchen,” Paul ordered the pair of them, still glaring out the window. “And then I want ya to open the front door.”

  “What?”

  “If ya don’t, she’s gonna be comin’ through this window in the next few seconds.”

  Neither Melvin or Lisa moved, and Paul jumped back once the female from outside ran at the window.

  Melvin and Lisa released hands once the thud could be heard against their double glazed living room window. Both released a frightened yelp, and a few seconds had passed and another thud was heard.

  Lisa looked at her husband, who remained still, and huffed at his hesitancy. She ran into the kitchen and returned with a solid wooden rolling pin. She stood a few yards from the door and told Melvin to open it. He never responded.

  “Oi!” Lisa snapped over his way. “Shit for brains.”

  “What?” Melvin looked at his wife and seemed drunk, in a daze.

  “Open the fucking door!”

  Melvin shook his head. “Not a chance.”

  “Do it!” urged Paul.

  Melvin took in a breath and walked over to the main door. He took the snib off the door and rested his hand on the handle, looking over to his wife who was holding the wooden rolling pin with both hands. Her knees were slightly bent and she looked like she was ready to strike.

  “Go on then,” she snapped at her other half. “Honestly, you’re about as much use as a concrete trampoline. What are you waiting for? Christmas?”

  Melvin looked at a standing and anxious Paul, who was holding the steak knife in his right hand. Paul nodded at Melvin, and Melvin breathed out a hard breath, closed his eyes, and then opened the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Tony Willetts could feel his heart beating out of his chest and watched as John walked away from his view. There was an eerie silence, and he was dying to call out to John, wondering what the hell was going on. He was nervous for the man, and could feel his temporal pulse hammering the inside of his head.

  He then took a quick intake of breath once his ears picked up a slight scuffle coming from the cellar. This was followed by two thwacks from, he assumed, the bat that John had gone to the cellar with. A blanket of silence then smothered him, and Tony opened his mouth to call out for John, but decided not to. He was baffled, and had no idea what to do for the best. So he did nothing. He crouched down, stared into the cellar, and waited for the landlord and owner of the pub to make an appearance.

  Tony gazed downwards and waited for John to appear, but there was nothing as yet.

  Tony held his breath as he heard slow footsteps from the cellar. He released his breath when he could see that John appeared in line with the door and could see that he was okay.

  “Did you
put her down?” Tony asked the pub owner.

  John looked up and nodded. He looked shell-shocked and Tony could hear that he was out of breath. Tony had to remind himself that this had been John’s first one. The female may have been infected, but it wasn’t a dead being that was walking the earth. He had killed a living person. He was technically a murderer.

  John had a look of puzzlement on his face and Tony asked what was wrong.

  “Wasn’t as difficult as I thought it’d be,” said John, looking up to the man in his twenties.

  “Where is she?” Tony asked.

  “She’s in the corner of the cellar, filing her nails.”

  “What?” Tony wasn’t sure if John was joking or not. He didn’t know him that well.

  John cackled at Tony and shook his head. “She’s dead. I’ve put her in the corner. Her head’s bleeding a bit, but there’s not too much mess.”

  “Are you sure she’s dead?” Tony asked him.

  “Positive. I hit her twice across the head.”

  “So what now?”

  “Back upstairs before Helen comes down and wonders what the shit is going on.”

  John began to climb the steel steps, back to the bar. Once he reached the bar and closed the trap door, he wiped his hands down his thighs and placed the bat on the floor.

  He leaned against the bar, trying to recover his breathing, and admitted to Tony that he was unfit. His sweaty palms were on the wooden bar, and once his breathing returned to its normal state, he stood up straight and clapped his hands together.

  “We’ll get rid of the body another time. We’ve taken long enough as it is, and I’m shittin’ exhausted.” John Jameson wiped the bloody bat with a beer mat and said jovially, “Right, let’s go upstairs before my dear wife thinks me and you are lovers, sneaking off to do the old in-out.”

  “I’m sure that has never crossed her mind,” Tony groaned, not in the mood for John’s jokes.

  “You don’t know my Helen.” John began to laugh. “She can be a paranoid little thing.”

  “Why? Have you strayed in the past?”

  John quickly twisted his neck and glared at Tony. “Now, that is none of your shittin’ business.”