Don't Be Dead- Heartache After The Outbreak Page 11
The back doors are blocked by a group of four older youths, I could imagine them thinking they were in charge around here, hanging around the arcades, picking on the younger kids, I wanted to avoid them just as much now as I avoided people like that when they were alive.
There are too many for me to try and take them all on and I've got a feeling that the glass in the doors isn't going to last too much longer under the constant battering they are receiving. I'm being backed up by the crowd, finding myself at the front doors again, exactly where I don't want to be. They press in closer, I can feel the doors kicking against my back, I count twelve infected in front of me in total, closer, closer, fingers flexing as they reach for me, mouths chewing air, bite marks festering and rotten on arms, legs, shoulders, faces. Front of the pack is the young girl from the grabbers, hair in a loose ponytail, wearing a yellow summer dress, soiled with blood and dirt, the majority of the dress a dark brown colour with just a few spots of the original bright yellow showing in places. As she reaches me I pick her up, turn, and fling her through the doors behind me, glass shattering, wood splintering, she doesn't go all the way through, one leg catches on the door frame, swinging her down, head first into the pavement. I turn back away from the doors as the birds surge through and go running into the crowd, jump as I reach the front row of infected, plant my foot on a dead and shaky leg, vault my way clumsily over the chewing vacant head, falling and tumbling down behind the crowd, knocking three of them down with me. The crowd around me is engulfed in flapping wings and tearing beaks, I get up as fast as I can, kick away the grabbing hands, punching at the gulls circling my head, I run blindly towards the back doors, a few gulls follow but the majority are content to feast on the infected I'm leaving behind, the infected in turn, slowly chewing on the few birds they can grab hold of.
I'm back out on the street and running, I jump over the low wall that runs down the side of the arcades and duck down the alleyway back to the promenade, the car park, the Lotus.
I sink back into the soft leather seats, eyes closed, catching my breath, the only sound is the crashing of waves and the cawing of seagulls and I'm taken back to a childhood memory of speedboat rides. A few persistent gulls hurl themselves into the windscreen snapping my eyes back open again and I start the engine and drive.
Rachel
It was finally time to head for London to find Sarah, it was going to be a long drive and I had no idea what I'd find in the Capital, with such a large concentrated population would the streets be overrun with the infected? Would the roads be blocked with abandoned vehicles? Would they have actually controlled the situation and have a cure? With no media, London might as well be the Moon, I had no idea what had happened beyond my own small village up until a couple of months ago and I had a very bad feeling that this would be the end of my journey in more ways than one, that I might end up dead or undead, but I couldn't turn back and I did want to see Sarah again.
I stick to the quieter roads for my journey south, motorways are a definite no-go and although the smaller back roads will take longer it should be easier and safer. I make sure to find somewhere to stop at least two hours before it gets dark so that I can search the surrounding area for a secure place to sleep and scavenge for supplies.
I'm disappointed to find that the Lotus is really not suitable for this journey and I have to make numerous stops to siphon petrol from wherever I can find it, meaning I'm not only on the lookout for food and shelter but also a new set of wheels that will get me further than 20 miles before I have to look for petrol.
It's dark now, I sit in the window of a large manor house, I visited here as a child on a school trip, it was once full of grand and ancient furniture, exquisitely carved with intricate designs. All of that is gone now, burned to keep people warm no doubt, the house now stands empty but the walls are strong and the doors solid, the windows are fitted with shutters, all but one firmly shut; I sit in the remaining window reading my map by the moonlight. I'm about a third of the way to my destination, a long way still to go. I take a drink from the can of Pepsi in my hand and glance around the room behind me, the walls and floor are stained with blood and soot, the grounds which once held a wide array of exotic plant life now holds a wide of array of human remains, a small encampment destroyed by the infection like so many others I've seen on my travels; sometimes I'm glad to be alone, to avoid the attachments that leave gaping wounds when they are suddenly and inevitably detached and you are left empty and hurt, no appetite, on the verge of tears every minute of the day, an ache in your heart, and hatred, confusion and anger in your head.
I wonder again why I'm bothering with this list, seeking out the people that I hurt the most that hurt me in kind, reminding myself of the painful breakups, the guilt, the betrayal, all of my darkest days, the worst parts of me, the things I'd like to forget but never can, the things I said that still make me apologise under my breath when I think of them, when I think of the look in their eyes when I hurt them. I'm feeling down tonight, I need to think of the positives, that’s the reason I'm doing this isn't it, to prove to myself that I'm not the monster I convince myself I am on nights like this; to remember the good times, the love made and shared between us, the joyful moments of adventure, secrets that we never told anyone else, binding us together, us against the world, the look in her eyes when we're finally alone and she asks me for a kiss, the warm touch of her hand on my face when words aren't needed and we both feel exactly the same, in love, trusting, safe, comfortable, like we're meant to be together even if it isn't forever just to experience those seconds that can make a bad day suddenly seem great. I needed to know if despite the pain, the mistakes made, the misunderstandings, that when it comes down to it, when the whole world is falling apart, the girls from my past can think back and say “Regardless of how things turned out between us and since the world has turned to shit anyway I'm really glad we had that time together. No Dan, you're not a dick.”
I slept better than usual last night, no nightmares, no bombs, no infected, no psychos, I feel happy and it’s strange, nothing has changed, my life is still the same old shit life but this morning it doesn't seem to matter, I get up and take my old football out into the halls of the manor house for a kick around, bouncing the ball off the walls, dribbling past imaginary opponents, shooting into the fireplace, GOOAAALLL! I continue my tour of the house, but it's even more boring now than when I was here on the school trip, anything of worth has long since gone so I take the football outside and explore the grounds, the whole place looks like it was on fire, any trace of the trees and plants that once filled this landscape has been scorched from the earth and small ash clouds form around my feet with every step. I throw down the ball, bounce it off the floor twice before chasing after it, twisting and turning, doing little tricks, flicking the ball up off my heel, I'm Maradonna, I'm Lineker, I'm Ian Rush and I blast the ball like a rocket at the goal which is between a tree and a bin, but the ball is cheap and plastic and light and the wind catches it and sends it sailing off to the side into the woods. I run into the trees, my happiness somehow making me less wary than usual, less wary than I should be and I search the bushes and undergrowth for the ball not thinking of danger amongst the trees. I find myself in a clearing, around the size of a tennis court, the dirt has been turned over and flattened but a small mound still remains; then I notice the odd shapes poking out from the dirt, and on closer examination realise that they are body parts; hands, elbows, knees, feet, a nose, just above the surface of the dirt, it's a mass grave, presumably full of the bodies from the mansion, buried here when the previous camp was set up. I spot the ball at the other side of the grave but as my gaze drops I see small movements coming from a finger poking into the air, the ground starts to move along the path the ball must have followed, the thin layer of mud cracking and falling away as bodies that must have only been presumed to be dead start to claw their way back out of the ground. I count five so far and as I turn to leave I notice my footsteps have cau
sed more dormant bodies to wake and I'm surrounded by a classic zombie scene of arms bursting from the ground, I appreciate how cool the situation is but I foolishly came out without any weapons this morning, I guess that’s what being relaxed and happy does for you. A hand brushes past my leg and I start to run back to the mansion, jumping over arms and thrashing legs, an exposed head tempts me to slow my pace however and I go for a penalty kick, blasting the ball/head past Shilton/A tree to win the World Cup/Nothing.
Out of the trees, across the field of ash, along the gravel path back around to the front of the house and towards the front doors. I skid to a stop as I near the doors and notice another herd of infected shuffling towards the mansion from the opposite side, “Where the fuck did that lot come from?” I ask no-one, no-one answers.
Into the house and through the hall, along the corridor, up the stairs along another corridor, through a hallway, into the room where I slept last night. I quickly shove everything back in my bag and put on my tool belt, hammers holstered ready for action. Then back out of the room, through the hallway, down the corridor and the stairs, down the wrong corridor, back towards the right corridor, through to the hallway and out the door, a large crowd of infected seems to have surrounded the mansion. I don't know why, but they are there and I can't get to the Lotus and the mostly rotted, burnt up infected from the grave I found are getting closer and there's nowhere to run other than back inside the mansion, but then I'll be trapped and I know the infected won't just leave so I may as well fight them now before any more come so I drop my bag and draw my hammers and weigh up my options.
The first to reach me gets sent sprawling sideways, causing two more to trip and fall over him, I whirl around and take down two more that were closing in behind me, blood and brain matter spray across my neck and shoulders. I look around, too many choices making me slow to decide, I swing at the wrong one and feel brittle bony fingers snag on my left sleeve, hand finally closing around my arm, I instinctively jerk my arm away from the grasp, pulling the infected attached to the hand off balance, falling into me, teeth scraping against my chest as I stumble backwards trying to free myself, more closing in on all sides, my swings become wild and erratic, I'm hitting but not doing enough damage, not putting them down for good. The ground is a squirming mass of reaching hands and biting mouths, I stamp and smash and pound on them but there's too many and I'm drowning in a sea of infected as more and more waves of them crash against me and as I'm about to be dragged under there's a loud crash and scraping of metal as a VW Camper van smashes through the gates at the end of the driveway, infected are crushed under the wheels, more bounce off the front and sides as it ploughs through the crowds towards me. Six men leap from the van and start dispatching the infected with efficient blows from what look like custom made brain skewering hammers, their shiny black surfaces soon running with blood. An arm reaches around my shoulder, I instinctively try to pull away but it's a strong living arm attached to a heroic looking man and he pulls me to my feet and away from danger and before I know what's happening I'm sat in the back of the van looking out of the window as the mansion and the carnage and my bag and the Lotus are left behind, and the men sat around me are too loud and boisterous, cheering and high fiving and whooping like idiots and I'm more scared of where we are going now than I was when surrounded by an army a few minutes ago.
“You're lucky we came when we did, what were you thinking infiltrating a nest that size on your own?”
His name is Brad, I recognise him as the man that took away Rachel while I was busy fighting off my infected parents; he doesn't know who I am though, he thinks I'm just some sap who needed rescuing and will be eternally grateful and be their slave while they go out fighting and when they are not fighting I'll be pouring their drinks and making their beds after they've bedded the women that they probably keep in cages at their base, only letting them out to cook and fuck.
I hate him but I disguise it when I answer “Yeah, thanks, I don't know what happened, one minute I was alone the next I was surrounded, I'm sure glad you guys came along.”
I see some of the other men look disgusted and roll their eyes, they've already judged me, I smirk to myself, misjudged me.
We pull into their camp and climb out of the van surrounded by curious faces and cheers, the soldiers pass their weapons and bags to waiting women who scurry away with them and return with drinks and food, I knew it, the soldiers think they are awesome, treated like kings by the weak and defenceless for killing a few infected. I've probably killed more in the last few months than all of them put together but I'm not jealous. I scan the faces of the people around, the fawning idiots that greeted us, the men that hang back away from the crowd, unsmiling, possibly angry that the soldiers have returned? I wonder if Rachel is here somewhere, would she be pleased to see me? Does she think I'm a dick? Brad shoos away his fans and leads me to a large hut where an older man sits, dressed in army camo gear meant for snowy terrain, totally unsuited to the woodland we are surrounded by, I figure he's making a point that he's military rather than actually trying to blend into his surroundings.
Brad talks “Sir, mission successful. We cleared out the nest at the mansion without incident and rescued another survivor, his name's Dan.”
I smile and give a single wave with my hand when he says my name, the old soldier doesn't smile back, just quickly looks me up and down and then returns his gaze to Brad.
“Put him in the civilian tent with the others, set him to work in the fields, does he have any belongings?”
“Nothing much of value, a couple of hammers on him, a bag with clothes, some tins of food, a few more makeshift weapons.”
So they took my bag while we were fighting and hid it from me, I hate when I'm right about people, this is looking more and more like a place I don't want to stay. The old soldier still doesn't look back at me but answers Brad.
“Good, weapons to the armoury, food to the kitchen, clothes to whoever needs them.” Then he looks back down at his papers, done with us apparently.
“Hoooooold on a minute!” I say, causing Brad to pause from his exit and the old soldier to look back up at me “Those are my things, I decide where to put them and I'd actually like to keep them with me.”
“We offer you protection, a bed to sleep in, regular meals and you refuse to hand over second rate weapons and a week’s worth of meals to the community. You owe Brad and his boys your life and you complain about giving a few items of clothing for the elderly and infants to keep warm?” When he says it like that I sound unreasonable but there's definitely something rotten here, I don't intend to be their grateful little slave.
“Well I don't mind trading a few items to stay the night and have a proper meal but I think I'll be moving on soon, I'm actually on my way somewhere, I have my own mission.”
He answers with a derisive snort “Mission, what mission?”
“It's classified.” I turn and walk out of the hut “Where's my bag, Brad?”
Brad follows but he's pissed at me “You ungrateful little shit!” He pushes me in the back like a girl in the playground, I turn and face him, stare him down. “My bag”, he stares back for a few seconds then barges past me towards the camper van, pulls out the bag and tosses it on the ground in the direction of the camp entrance.
“Take it bitch, then fuck off!” I walk over to the bag but as I'm bending to pick it up Brad rushes me and kicks me hard in the face, everything goes black.
I wake up feeling cold and reach a hand up to my face, gently feeling its features, my lips are split, my nose feels ok though, not broken but my whole left cheek feels sore to touch and swollen. I've been stripped to my underwear and dumped on the floor of a small wooden hut, no furniture, nothing at all in fact, is in the hut, only me, in my underwear. I stand, carefully, head still a little fuzzy, mouth dry, I wonder how long I've been out for. The door to the hut is barred from the outside and the door just rattles against it uselessly when I try to open it. I look around the
empty hut again, it's made of sticks and branches lashed together, I snake my fingers through one of the gaps between the sticks and pull but there's no give and they don't feel like they'll snap very easily. I back up to the wall and charge at the one opposite, launching myself shoulder first against it; I crumple to the ground but I heard definite cracks as I collided with the wood and I don't think it was my bones. I pull myself up and charge again, this time I crash through, the broken edges of the wood scraping along my back and stomach, drawing blood. I pick up one of the larger lengths of wood and brandish it like a club as I make my way towards the old soldier’s hut.
I burst through the door and prepare my swing but the room is empty and there's no-one to hit but I hold my club in the air as I look around just in case, it drops to my side a few seconds later and the adrenaline and anger subsides a little and my mind moves away from killing everyone to a more subtle plan to escape undetected and I search the room for something, anything, useful.
A spare set of army fatigues lays folded in a drawer, they don't fit well, legs and sleeves too short, they'll do for now, but I'm still barefoot. A truncheon replaces my makeshift club and I leave the hut and head for the rest of camp to search for more supplies before I make my escape. The camp appears to be deserted, entrance gates locked down but not guarded, I inspect the gates but can't find any way to get them open without the keys so I'm trapped here for now and concentrate on resupplying. I've got the perfect chance to search the tents and shacks and ransack them in turn, I find boots that are too large and eventually I swap them for more comfortable running shoes, the ill-fitting fatigues are exchanged for jeans and a grey hoodie, a large waterproof coat and a wool hat that makes me think of Gemma as I put it on, she’d probably say me wearing a hat now was proof that I lied all those years ago, crazy bitch. I fill a rucksack with an apple, two tins of grapefruit segments, one tin of baked beans and a hunting knife. My search takes me towards the back of the encampment where I can hear the voice of the old soldier, it sounds like he's giving a speech and I make my way to the large opening that leads out to a field. The entire population of this camp seems to be out here, all watching the old soldier speak; he appears to be telling them how lucky they are and the plans for their next mission. Behind him I can see a couple of jet planes and a fleet of vehicles including three Army Jeeps, the VW Camper van I arrived in, a Ford Fiesta, a Vauxhall Cavalier, a Toyota Corolla, a Subaru Imprezza and a Land Rover.