by Colley, Ryan
“So, same story again, I went to the toilet and found his belongings. I took his school trousers and wandered into the toilet. I knew they wouldn’t flush in one go. It needed some precision accuracy. I dipped one trouser leg into the toilet and pulled the flush. I kept pulling the flush, feeding the trouser leg into it. I watched the leg disappear into the watery depths. I flushed the leg, then the upper thigh, and then got to the crotch area. That was when the problem arose.” I paused for suspense. “Whatever I had done, I blocked the toilet. The material stopped disappearing and the water started rising. I tried to pull the trousers out, but it was too late for that. The water just kept rising and overflowed from the toilet bowl. I scampered at that and returned to my lesson.”
“Did you get caught?” James asked, enthralled by my story.
“No.” I grinned. “We returned from sports to find water everywhere. We investigated the source and found the toilet had mysteriously overflowed. This bully was the first to laugh about the fact someone’s trousers were in the toilet. Typical idiot that he was. It was only when he started changing that he realised they were his trousers. He blew a gasket. Screamed at people and demanded who did it. I spoke up and told him to calm down. He didn’t like that and turned his attention to me. He tried to take a swing at me, but he slipped on the wet floor. He was the laughing stock of the entire class.”
“Pretty funny.” James laughed. “More a story of revenge though, wouldn’t you say?”
“Probably why I find it so funny then.” I smiled, leaning back. “What about you?”
“I was fairly good in school,” James said, but I could already tell he was lying through his teeth. “There were a few incidents however.”
“Do tell,” I chuckled. It made the journey a lot more bearable.
“This is going to sound really weird, but I used to draw penises everywhere,” James said, making eye contact with me.
“I’m not judging you,” I said with mock hurt.
“So, every day we would have the same class in the same room. I was sat right at the back of the class. Every day I would draw one on the wall, but not just regular ones,” James said, pausing to make me realise he was serious. “There were swirly ones, bendy ones, and Picasso ones. Those things were crazy. Naturally, after five days a week for half a year of me drawing, that wall got pretty full up. Just plastered in my art.”
“This story is weird,” I said, but I couldn’t help but laugh.
“So,” James continued. “Half-term came and went. We came back to class, and my little corner had been repainted. Just the wall art had been painted over. The rest of the crummy, paint-peeling walls was left, except my corner. I didn’t mind … I was running out of space. They had literally presented me with a new canvas to draw on. So I started again with art to make up for.”
“Brilliant!” I laughed. I was clutching at my sides at this point. I wasn’t just laughing at his story. I was laughing at the fact that, even in the apocalypse, there was still time for penis stories. Perhaps it was the madness setting in, but I continued laughing for a good ten minutes after that. James broke down into fits of giggles also, our laughter encouraging the other. The car swerved a few times. Had there been any other cars on the road we would have had an accident for sure, but James managed to get it under control.
“You know what,” I laughed, wiping tears from my eyes. “I hated school so much, a lot of idiots, but some random memories like that made it worthwhile.”
“Agreed,” James laughed, also wiping tears away. He was quickly becoming a friend of mine. Sure, we had been thrown together out of necessity, but I was really growing fond of him. I would miss him when he left … but he was leaving to go where? I knew very little of where he was going. I needed to ask, my natural curiosity overriding my mirth.
“So, where are you actually heading?” I asked casually, laughter still in my voice.
“Wondered when this would come up.” James chuckled quietly. “Long version or short version?”
“I hate clichés, but, do you have anywhere else to be?” I asked with mock sarcasm.
“Very true.” James nodded in agreement. “I want to get to Scotland. There are three main reasons behind that. I have family in Scotland. My parents moved up there a few years after I moved out and got my own place. They always wanted to move to the middle of nowhere and live out their remaining years in peace. They bought a cottage on the side of a loch. You can only get there by ferry or an incredibly long car journey. Seems like the best place to be. No one else around for miles, so it’s secluded and safe. There’s also the chance that the infection hasn’t made it that far north yet, which probably means that the armed forces will be making a last stand there. Probably the safest, and most guarded, place as well, it means. That’s where they were evacuating a lot of the higher ups to anyway. Any government left is up there. Probably makes Scotland the safest place in the UK right now.”
“Family, seclusion, and safety? Sound reasoning,” I said, nodding thoughtfully. Scotland definitely sounded like a fall-back plan if it came to that. There were a few moments of silence. I could sense James wanted to say something.
James sighed and eventually came out with it. “You’re welcome to join me, you know.”
“Thanks man,” I replied, genuinely happy with his offer. I knew I couldn’t take it though. My face dropped, ready for my reply. “I have my own family to look out for.”
“I know,” James replied simply. “I just want you to know the offer is there. Maybe meet up with me one day.”
“Of course,” I smiled, although I knew there was little chance of that happening. “Take my number and call me when you make it.”
“Will do,” he said. He fumbled around his pockets before withdrawing and passing me his phone. “Save it in there for me.”
So I did. I typed in my number and saved it as “Sam – The Zombie King,” and passed it back to him. I couldn’t help but feel we were going through the motions with it. It felt the same as when you see a friend you haven’t met for years. You make plans and say you have to meet up, but you don’t. All the promises of meeting up would come to nothing. I doubted an undead world would make that any more likely.
I chuckled at a thought. James looked at me, so I voiced it. “I nearly gave you my address so you could send me a letter.”
“Oh, that would be so useful. Hell, I might as well give you my address,” James said sarcastically before reciting an address. “How about I literally send you a postcard when I’m there.”
“Go for it, one of the Loch Ness Monster if you could,” I said approvingly with a smirk. “In all fairness, it will probably arrive faster than the normal postie. Send it by Ze-Mail.”
“Ze-mail?” James replied, his eyebrows knitted in confusion.
“Zombie Mail,” I laughed. “Jeez, James, get with the times. Was that actually your address, by the way?”
“Of course! Just in case you ever need it.” James laughed. I repeated it a few times; I wanted to visit him one day. “By the way, I so will not miss you when you’re gone.”
Our laughter eventually died off when we realised the reality that we were actually going to part ways. We probably would never see each other again. We had become brothers-in-arms out of necessity, but the bond was still there. I sighed, the noise exaggeratedly loud in the silence of the Jeep. No one spoke.
CHAPTER 24
We were miles out of London; away from the epicentre of the Daisy outbreak. The further we got away from London, the busier it seemed to get. I’m not talking about “people” busy, but rather “undead” busy. “We had barely seen anyone alive. We did see one living person speeding towards London on the opposite side of the road. They were going over a hundred miles per hour and didn’t show any signs of slowing down. It didn’t bode well for what was ahead if someone was trying that desperately to get away from it. They must have heard about how bad London was. How far had Daisy spread? We knew it had passed London, and hit E
ssex, but how much further than that? Wales? Ireland? I didn’t want to think about it. The ripples of Daisy spread through Great Britain like a cancer, destroying whatever it got its roots into. I wondered how long it would be before the deaths from Daisy outweighed that of the Black Death, of cholera, of Aids, and eventually of all those combined? There were so many unanswered questions. Had it spread beyond Great Britain? There had been flights in and out of Great Britain when Daisy had first started rearing its ugly head. Maybe Scotland would be the next stop in my journey of survival after all. It would probably be just as safe as anywhere abroad, but easier to get there.
“James,” I said, breaking hours of silence. “You say Essex has fallen, right?”
“Apparently so, why?” James answered dully. He had been focussed on the road for hours and looked as though he hadn’t blinked the entire time. Exhaustion was prevalent.
“Instead of dropping you off outside of Essex to make your way to Scotland, how do you feel about sticking with me a little longer?” I began. I had his attention. His entire body language had changed. I continued when I saw his interest. “I pick up Alice and her family before we head to Scotland together. That sound like a plan?”
James nodded approvingly before continuing with, “Sounds like a plan. Safety in numbers.”
“It would be awesome to meet your parents,” I said with genuine interest in his family life.
“They’ll love guests.” He laughed. “My mum makes awesome coffee cake.”
It reminded me of my own family, whom I doubted I would ever see again. I was saddened by it, but then I wasn’t. The feelings came and went; I felt very cold inside. How long until I stopped caring about everything? Don’t think about it. You’re nearly at the end of it all. It was true. I would come to terms with everything I had seen at my own pace. I would have plenty of time for it later, if all went to plan. Not in that moment, not when I needed to think straight. Even if that meant being cold and calculating. I had to match the new world after all. You couldn’t get by through being kind and forgiving. In a way, that reflected the civilised world we’d soon forget. How long before we became mindless beasts fighting in the dirt and blood for something to eat? How long before humanity, the morality, not the species, would be forgotten? I thought about the death of innocent people at the hands of men who were only following orders. I don’t think long at all.
Time together in the Jeep was odd. The atmosphere would be fantastic and full of laughter one moment, and then moody and silent the next. That was the problem with a long journey; there was a lot of nothing. The end of the world was so … boring. There was nothing to distract us except each other. If you spend time with the same person for long enough, they start to annoy you. I started to notice that James made a really annoying noise with his throat, as if he was trying to clear it. It drove me insane. I noticed James gave me an angry look whenever I cracked my knuckles. Whenever we swapped out as the driver, I considered telling James not to get back in; that’s how much it got to me. The silence was worse. It was painful. James seemed lost in his own thoughts and rarely spoke. That, in turn, would make my thoughts turn inwards. My thoughts turned to my family. I wondered how they were. As a family, we were far from perfect. We had more skeletons in our closet than most … I realised I couldn’t leave them for Scotland. Collectively, we were obsessed with the idea of the zombie apocalypse. We would constantly create “what if” scenarios. We would be at a restaurant, and one of us would ask “if zombies attacked right now, what would you do?” We would spend the entirety of the meal discussing it, all giving different and logical answers. Others would then try to poke holes in the plan and be critical, to see if they could justify their decisions. We were pretty good at it too, regardless of the scenario. I, however, was the best at it. I would overthink everything, down to every little detail. I would think about the long-term and short-term survival. I did a lot of survival research too. For example, I learned that even if all freezers stopped working, you could still make and store ice. Dig holes in the winter, line it with some sort of waterproof material, and fill it with water. It will freeze in the low temperatures, and then you can store it wherever you want. Find a deep, cold cave and you can store ice for the summer. Not exactly for survival purposes, but good for a luxury. Anyway, my sister Kelsey was the second best. I considered her my survival prodigy. If anything happened to me, she could keep herself and people around her alive. In an apocalypse scenario, my mum was the brawn and muscle, and my sister would be the brains; not that I would say that in front of them. I thought back to The Tao of Sam. Would my family follow it? Would they follow it like a religious doctrine? I hoped so, because I believed it would help them survive. Did I really have that much faith in myself? The psychologist in me couldn’t help but utter the term messiah complex. Regardless of what happened, I believed my family could survive in an undead world as long as they stuck together. That is what families do, stick together. The family I had abandoned so easily. I felt myself sink into darker thoughts, which I pushed aside. I had taken care of them in my own way. They would do fine because of me. I knew I was lying to myself, but I started to believe it. If I carried along the path I was on, I would soon be a psychotic and delusional man who indulged in the idea that he could save the world. All I would have to do was become convinced that there was a cure and expend many lives trying to find it; good old movie clichés. The main problem with psychology is that you overanalyse everything about yourself. I would symptom-ise everything. Feeling happy one moment and sad the next? Bipolar disorder! Having a bad day? Depression! I would have every disorder in the DSM if I diagnosed myself. I laughed out loud at that thought; a short bark of laughter. It sounded more like a dog coughing than a display of mirth. I saw my laugh had disturbed James, as I watched him in the mirror flinch at the outburst. His tired eyes focussed on me wearily. He looked confused and a little scared. I considered explaining what my thought process was, but didn’t. I didn’t need to justify myself and simply carried on driving. James and I stared into each other’s eyes through the mirror. Not in a romantic way. Not in a friends way. There almost seemed something sinister in the gaze.
****
James
James stared at Sam in the mirror. He wanted to look away, he truly did, but he couldn’t. There was something unnerving about the look in Sam’s eyes. While on the road trip, James had seen hundreds of undead monsters pass by on the outside, and he felt safe inside the vehicle. It was only just that second that he became aware that he may actually be travelling with a far worse one. When James first came across Sam, he felt that Sam was just someone trying to survive. He had the vehicle, he had the guns. So, of course it was all about James trying to prove he was sane and honest to Sam. Not for one moment did James think he should try and find out if Sam was sane. Now, he doubted his decision not to do so. James still believed Sam was, or had been, a nice guy. People did crazy things under stress. From his days with the police, he had seen a couple of officers crack, and that was pre-apocalypse. They would be fine one day, see something terrible, and continue to be fine; for the time being. Little things would begin to surface in them though. It would begin with a noticeable decrease in function. Almost depression. Next would be the avoidance. Those officers, the ones who had seen the worst policing had to offer, would suddenly start avoiding simple things. They would ask for a different route to normal, or wouldn’t follow their regular routine. On some occasions, those hardened officers wouldn’t turn up to work altogether. James recalled one of the officers talking about Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder; something he thought only soldiers got. That wasn’t the case, and officers would collapse into themselves after finally having enough. When he fought during London’s downfall, he noticed people seemed to go one of three ways when faced with the horrors they saw. The main way was just breaking down. Officers would just sit there, in a catatonic-like state, stress finally getting the best of them. They became lost souls. Those officers were the lucky o
nes. Next were the most resilient officers who would come out of it stronger; normally classed as a hero. They would face the fear and horror and come out on top, stronger for the experience. The third group came out worst. They faced the horrors. They adapted and defeated them. The difference here was that they enjoyed the madness. In the process, they moved from a normal person to a monster, and there was always a sick and evil look in their eyes. When James looked into Sam’s eyes, he saw that same expression. He was fairly certain it wasn’t there when they first met, but it had definitely developed, its roots planted long ago. There was hate in his eyes. However, James occasionally saw the thousand-yard stare on Sam’s face. The look of those officers who had given up. Sam carefully walked the line between hero, lost soul, and monster. He hoped Sam’s choices would lead him away from monster. James liked Sam, but fear for his own safety began to surface.
When staring at Sam in the mirror, James felt as though Sam was looking through him. A smile of unknown origin tugged at the corners of Sam’s mouth. He was sure the smile would normally look friendly, but the dark shadows around his eyes made it look anything but. James enjoyed philosophy. He also had a favourite philosopher, a man by the name of Friedrich Nietzsche. One quote which stuck out for James was,
“Battle not with monsters lest ye become a monster; and if you gaze into the abyss the abyss gazes into you.”
James had always liked that quote, as there was an air of mystery to it. He also liked it for the meaning behind it. That quote seemed to directly apply to Sam. If he wasn’t careful, he would become worse than the monsters he fought … if it wasn’t too late already. James knew he would need to leave Sam sooner rather than later. He would come up with an excuse as to why he needed to go his own separate way. He doubted Sam would argue. He didn’t want to leave his only friend in the new world. Maybe things would be different after they both slept? There was no doubt that a lack of real sleep shadowed the situation unfavourably. There would be plenty of time during the next few days, if not when they reached Essex. Suddenly, the silence was broken.