by Brown, TW
“Solar powered,” the woman said over her shoulder as she started down the stairs. “Seems everything has a solar option these days.”
They ran to the next floor and opened the door a crack. What they saw made them look at each other for a second before Mrs. Raye tugged the door shut and headed down to the next level. The hallway had no fewer than a dozen of the walking dead visible just in the immediate area that the flashlight illuminated. Every door was wide open, and in the opening of the first one on the right were a cluster of two zombies tearing apart some poor unfortunate. It was impossible to tell if it was man or woman, old or young, since just the feet were visible—a pair of blue trainers that were twitching and then going stiff as the toes pointed down and seemed to go rigid for a second before they resumed their rapid thrumming.
The next floor offered a little promise. Not a single zombie could be seen, and even after several heartbeats of waiting, nothing appeared to investigate. They crept to the first door on the right and gave the knob a twist. It turned!
Shadiyah stepped back just a bit so Mrs. Raye could open the door while she readied herself with her father’s scimitar. The door creaked as it opened like some low grade horror movie prop, but nothing greeted them in the entry hall, the living room, or the rest of the flat. The two made a quick pass through the kitchen and bathroom, scooping anything useful into a large canvas bag that Mrs. Raye had brought along.
Once they finished, the pair headed across the hallway to try that door. This one was locked, but Mrs. Raye pulled out a small case and made short work out of picking the lock. They repeated the same procedure, and once again found an empty hall. Their relief was temporary as a low moan drifted up the hall from the shadows of the flat that apparently had all its curtains drawn shut.
“I think we can skip this one,” Shadiyah whispered.
“You scared?” Mrs. Raye turned to face her younger companion with a raised eyebrow and a sardonic smirk on her thin lips. Shadiyah nodded vigorously.
“I don’t see the reason we need to risk ourselves when there are probably many other places to try that are empty.”
“Well, good to know that you aren’t just some sort of foolish child.” The older woman backed up and pulled the door closed before returning to continue with what she had to say. “I watched from my window these past several days. Seen folks treat these things like they were nothing more troublesome than a sewer rat. Thing is, you let a sewer rat get a bite of ya, and you will find yourself enduring a rather unpleasant series of jabs for tetanus, hepatitis and God knows what else. Last I heard, ain’t no jabs to keep you from becoming a walking corpse,” she said in an affected Yankee twang
By the time that they had finished this floor, they were both lugging two heavy gym bags behind them. While not everything they found would be anything that Shadiyah would have paid for to eat (what was the deal with so many people having sardines in a tin stacked in the cupboard), she knew well enough that hunger would eventually overpower her aversion to anything. Also, they had a few heads of various greens, some radishes, carrots, and even a few tomatoes.
She was dragging her duffels behind her when a hand clamped down on her shoulder like a vice. She started and turned to see Mrs. Raye had stopped cold and was pointing straight ahead.
“We didn’t leave that door open,” the woman whispered.
“Are you sure?” Shadiyah asked. The expression on the older woman’s face was her only response.
Henrietta Raye dropped her duffels and brought up her cane. Shadiyah had made the mistake of underestimating that thing as a weapon until the first time the brass head carved into the shape of a rook from a chess set smashed into the head of a zombie. She had fully expected the cane to snap or shatter. Instead, not only did it bust open the skull of the zombie like a ripe melon, the cane had not so much as bent a single degree. Add in the fact that Mrs. Raye swung the thing like she was a professional cricket player, and there had been no more concerns about the old lady, her weapons, or her ability to handle herself.
Together, they crept to the door and peered in. Nothing but the blackness could be seen. Using her torch, Mrs. Raye scanned the landing, stepped into the well and flashed her light both up and down. She turned to Shadiyah and shrugged when a voice caused them both to jump.
“Who’s down there?” a voice hissed.
“How about you tell us who is up there,” Mrs. Raye shot back.
There was a pause, and then the voice called back down, “Simon Wood. I am coming down the stairs. I’m alone.”
“Move real slow, sonny,” Mrs. Raye barked. “I am a bit jumpy these days. Any sudden movements might cause me to do something nasty with my stick here.”
Very slowly, and with his hands in the air, Simon Wood eventually emerged from the gloom of the stairs leading up and back to the floor they needed to return. He looked worse than Shadiyah had ever seen. In fact, she did not think that she’d ever seen him with so much as a hint of stubble on his angular face.
Simon Wood now looked like some of the scratters you found lying in the shade of the park with hands out asking for spare change. His eyes were swollen and one of them looked like he had taken a nasty punch to the face. His lip was also split open and a small knot of swollen flesh jutted out in emphasis.
“Shaddi?” Simon tilted his head to the side and squinted as he tried to get his eyes clear of the dazzling beam of light from Henrietta’s flashlight.
“Hi, Simon, what were you doing upstairs?”
Simon and his family actually lived two floors below this one. She considered briefly the idea that he had simply overshot his own floor in the darkness, but his answer blew that idea down.
“Some young hooligans are out and about causing trouble. I was trying to chase them down. They already did a nasty bit of damage to poor Geraldo Mint.” Simon’s face clouded over.
Geraldo Mint lived just a door or two down from Simon’s family. He had some sort of mental health issue. He worked with the grounds crew for the Towers, and could always be counted on for a smile and a wave by any who passed by whether he knew the individual or not.
“Who could do anything to that sweet boy?” Mrs. Raye gasped.
“There are more than a few unsavory types out and about taking advantage of the madness,” Simon sighed.
“Where is Miranda?” Shadiyah asked with an unintentionally derisive snort. She had not meant for it to sound like it did—as if perhaps Miranda might be running around with these thugs—but it was already out of her mouth and she could not get it back.
Simon’s face clouded and a shimmer of what looked like tears gave his eyes a glassy shine. He blinked rapidly and wiped them away as his head dropped with his chin coming to rest on his chest.
“She…well…” Simon seemed to be struggling for the words, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m so sorry!” Shadiyah gushed, reaching out a hand to the man and brushing the length of his left arm as she stepped close and peered up at him.
“She came home from being at the pictures with a bunch of her friends, yeah? Only, when she walked through the door, she was cursing up a storm about filthy people and some man biting her after falling out of an alley and trying to snatch her handbag.” Simon’s mouth clicked shut, and his eyes tightened as he visibly fought back the tears. “She had a bite on her left hand. It wasn’t really all that big. I didn’t think anything of it, even that night as I watched the news and that American doctor finally admitted that the dead were getting up and attacking the living.”
“You poor dear,” Mrs. Raye whispered with more warmth than Shadiyah had thought her capable.
There was a moment’s pause, and then Simon opened his mouth to continue, only, instead of his actually getting the chance, a terrible shriek came from upstairs. Shadiyah knew her sister’s scream well enough after the past few days.
Assi was in trouble.
2
Human Filth
{The following section
contains unsettling and graphic images that may be disturbing to some readers. Sensitive readers may wish to skip ahead FOURTEEN paragraphs to the *** marker in order to avoid this graphic scene.}
She was running up the dark stairwell, her shins paying for it every time she tripped and banged them. The complete darkness made it even worse as she had no idea when she would reach a landing. When she arrived at the first one just before the stairs turned and switched back, continuing their ascent, she had sprawled on her stomach, almost having the wind knocked completely from her lungs.
Voices from below and behind called for her, but she ignored them, continuing her reckless charge. At last, she reached the next landing, and her hand scrabbled for the door. She flung it open and her wild eyes scanned the hallway. Nothing but the same dead bodies that had been there before could be seen. Then, her eyes came to rest on the door that opened to her flat.
As she drew near, it struck her that there was no sign of forced entry. That could only mean one thing: Assi had opened the door for whoever was now inside their flat.
Shadiyah paused for a moment, taking the time to draw her father’s scimitar. The sound of the blade rasping as it pulled free was drowned by another terrible shriek…and then laughter. It was deep and evil sounding in nature; and it was obvious that it was coming from more than one source.
“C’mon, Gecko, give another fella a go, yeah?” a voice chortled.
“I ain’t had a chance to finish,” another voice grunted.
Shadiyah shook herself free from the terror that was trying desperately to grip her and keep her feet rooted to this spot forever. The first step was difficult, almost as if her feet were moving through thick mud. However, each successive step was a little easier, and in a few seconds, she was sprinting that last bit and then skidding to a halt in the doorway to her flat.
She could only see down the entry hall, but now that she was at the opening, the sound was much easier to discern. She could hear the hard breathing and grunts from one source, and she could also hear the squawks of pain that came in a rhythmic punctuation that emphasized the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh.
Shadiyah took each step down the hall while numbness seemed to radiate from her brain and make its way throughout her entire body. Even though she was certain what she would see once she stepped from the entry hall and into the living room, she still felt a new sensation of shock ripple through her body once the scene came fully into view.
Assi, her baby sister and the sum total of all the family that she knew she still had left was shoved face down on the floor. She had only the briefest of instances to be thankful that Assi’s face was pointed the other direction and that the two did not make any actual eye contact.
There were in fact three males (her mind refused to give them the title of “men”) in the living room. One of them was standing with his back to the scene and staring out the window at the day that was actually becoming sunny and bright as if to contrast the darkness of what was taking place in the flat. This one had shaggy brown hair just past the collar of his black tee shirt. He was also wearing cargo shorts that looked as if they had not been washed in weeks. Shadiyah’s eyes fixated for a heartbeat on a single dark stain on the back of the thigh.
The second one was currently standing over the scene and watching with an evil glimmer in his piggish eyes as he actually rubbed his hands together in anticipation—apparently he was about to be next, or so he believed at that particular moment. This one seemed to prefer the shaved head look, but had obviously not seen a razor in at least a week. He was chubby and his gut was not only hanging over the belt of his jeans, but also bulging from the sides as well.
The one currently assaulting Assi looked like the poster boy from an old Hitler Youth photograph. He had perfect blond hair parted to the side and bright blue eyes that were slightly scrunched at the moment and were looking straight ahead…and directly at Shadiyah. His lips, which had been pressed tight, suddenly opened in a soundless ‘O’ shape that revealed perfectly straight, white teeth and a pink tongue that darted to the right.
***
Without another thought, Shadiyah strode across the room and, with a slight thanks for the first time in her life in regards to just how small the flat really was, she stepped forward and swung the scimitar. A blond haired head flew to the left with the momentum and force of the swing, but the body stayed exactly the same for a few heartbeats as it caught up to the fact that it was no longer receiving signals from the brain.
A gout of blood arced up, actually spraying the ceiling. The hands—one of which had gripped Assi by the hair, and the other which had her by the left shoulder—flexed, gripped, and then let go. The body fell to the side and convulsed a few times as the final electrical impulses discharged. All of this happened in a span of just a few heartbeats (which was easy to judge by the blood jetting from the neck stump of the first dead body).
The pudgy skinhead jumped first from the fright, then turned to face the source of the intrusion. His face went from surprised to lascivious so quickly that Shadiyah would later tell herself that he must not yet have been able to get his little piggy brain to process what had befallen his companion just seconds earlier; he simply saw another victim arriving late to the party.
When she brought the blade around in a backhanded arc, he threw his hands up out of sheer instinct. The entire right hand and the fingers of the left went flying through the air. Before he could even scream, she stepped in and drove the tip of her scimitar into the man’s throat. His mouth opened and closed like a beached fish a few times before the blood began to well up and trickle from the corners of his thin, pale lips.
Shadiyah pulled the blade free and kicked out, sending the rotund male crashing backwards and splintering the little coffee table that had sat in the middle of the living room.
The last male had turned and witnessed the death of his skinhead friend. The body of the other was at his feet as a symbolic barricade between him and Shadiyah. Now that he was facing her, she only vaguely registered that his eyes were red. Likely from drugs, she thought bitterly as she closed on him, her sword arm cocked and ready to strike.
“Shaddi, no!” a shout echoed from a million miles away. She knew the voice; it carried authority and sounded like a voice she should obey.
In the blink of an eye, she dismissed her brain’s reaction to that command and swung. Knowing that this was the third and final male of the bunch, she screamed her impotent fury at not having another person to continue to vent her anger upon. She swung again and again. Then, hands grabbed her from behind and she spun, prepared to take on whoever dared to intrude on her vengeance.
“Shaddi!” another voice barked. This one sounded just as far away as the first voice, but once again, she recognized the tone as one of authority. Still, she would not be denied.
And now that she had a new face in front of her, another male, she could continue her attack. At least that was her thought. She raised her arm to swing, but something slammed into the side of her head and there was a dazzling flash, and then…merciful blackness.
***
“Is she going to be okay?” Simon whispered.
“Which one, Mister Wood?” Henrietta Raye replied.
She was kneeling between the sisters. She had checked the younger one first and quickly grabbed the blanket that was draped over the sofa and used it to cover the poor girl.
“Umm…either? Both?” the young man stumbled over his words.
“Time will tell on this one.” Henrietta laid a hand on the blanket covered girl. “She was already barely making it before this happened. It is very possible that she could just shut down for good.”
“What about Shaddi?”
“This one is a fighter.” The older woman moved over to the oldest of the sisters. “She will be fine, I imagine. But if her sister succumbs to this ordeal, I fear we may have some problems.”
“Problems?” Simon knelt beside Shadiyah and seemed to be resisting
the urge to brush the long strand of hair from her face.
“Rage is a nasty thing, boy. Shadiyah was consumed by it until I smashed her in the side of the head with my cane.”
Simon winced. He remembered well the look on Shadiyah’s face when she had spun on him. Henrietta was certain that the boy would have been decapitated if not for her fast cane work.
“Did you really have to hit her so hard?” Simon stood up and walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water.
Henrietta felt sorry for the young man. He obviously had a soft spot for the raven haired beauty. That is a recipe for disaster in these times, she thought with an inward sigh. Right now, survival was something that would rely on a person being able to remain detached. In that respect, Henrietta Raye was thankful. She had nobody to fret over. Her family was all the way down in London.
“If I didn’t, she might have gotten off that swing she was raring back with, and you would be like a bloody Roundhead after an audience with King Charles or somebody to fall afoul of Alice’s Queen of Hearts.”
Simon returned with his glass of water and paused just long enough to scoop up the scimitar from where it had fallen. He moved it over to a far corner of the room before joining Henrietta.
“So, what do we do now?” he asked.
“I am returning to my flat after I go secure the door to this floor. I plan to have a bite to eat and then take a nap.”
“What about them?” He pointed to the two forms on the floor, his voice seething with disbelief. “How can you leave them like this?”
“Oh…” Henrietta tottered to the door and paused, throwing a look over her shoulder, “I figure they are in good hands with you here.”
***
The door shut and Simon stood rooted to his spot for several seconds before he slumped in acceptance. It was obvious that the crazy old bat was not going to come back any time soon. He scowled one more time for good measure and then began to unload everything in the carry bag.
