by Oliver Smith
Chapter 32 - Hit the Road Jack
The morning after the party, or the nightly ritual for the elderly community, Jack, Lucy, and Chloe set off again aiming to complete their trip that day. As a thank you to Maggie, they left her with one of the rifles and a box of ammunition, she protested and questioned what she’d do with it anyway, but eventually took it with thanks. They left details about where they were going and said that any and all of the community were welcome to join them if they ever ventured further north. Maggie had warned them to circumvent main roads and to avoid the bigger towns around the area as they were swarming with the dead. Jack and Lucy had already planned to avoid them anyway and aimed to head as far east as possible before driving North. Jack’s plan was to get close to York and then wing it from there where he was familiar with the roads.
They still had to clear the rest of the Peak District and then zigzag the country roads to avoid the main towns, but they were setting off with renewed hope having spent the evening surrounded by good and inspirational people. Jack felt hazy from drinking a little too much, but Lucy was in a worse condition. She wore sunglasses that were too big for her, attempting to shield her eyes from the agonising daylight. Jack and Chloe joked at Lucy’s expense and she laughed half-heartedly with them, but even through the nagging headache, Lucy was ready and alert.
The journey was long and at times, arduous. The previous evening’s festivities had made them relapse into their old ways and every gruesome sight was as disturbing as the first time they witnessed the frequent horrid scenes. Chloe, who had come out of her shell while playing in the pub, becoming an outgoing and noisy little girl, had shrunk back to a frightened shell and sat in the footwell; speaking infrequently and busying herself in a make-believe world of toys. Lucy was envious of the girl’s ability to switch off to her outside environment, but knew she could not afford such luxuries, the girl’s life depended on the actions of both Jack and Lucy.
Travelling across the Peak District was almost pleasant, the roads were quiet and obstruction free, only a couple of dead were spotted in miles of travelling. The journey was more complicated when they came down the hills and made their way around Sheffield and Rotherham. The dead were in larger numbers and several roads were blocked causing more miles to the journey. The Bentley was getting beaten out of shape having to force the dead and obstacles out of the way.
The journey took them over bridges crossing the M1 and A1 motorways and the views from their elevated positions wiped away any of the joyous feelings of the Peak District and the previous evening’s revelries, reminding Jack and Lucy about the stark reality of the new order. The traffic on the motorways was end to end, vehicles were upturned, and many cars looked abandoned with doors wide open, these sights were paled into insignificance by the dead. The numbers, thousands littering both carriageways, a sea of grey, a nightmare with the colour washed out. The smell came through the car vents and made the atmosphere putrid. From both sides of the bridge, heads lifted, the ghastly hum from the thousands of dead hung in the air, penetrating deep into consciousness, and made Chloe whimper with despair. Lucy held the girl’s hand as they continued their journey, elevated above immediate danger.
Heading east, the route took them between Scunthorpe and Doncaster before turning north, the Vale of York began to extend itself across the horizon, the flat expanse was green and pleasant, but the dead were never far away. Jack, in a lapse of concentration, hit one of the dead at 30 miles an hour; with a crunch and a splash of blood, the car took the full force of the blow and was drifting to the left. Jack was frightened that the damage would force them to ditch the car and attempt to make it on foot. Lucy, fearing the same, had managed to figure out the shotgun and had loaded cartridges into it, ready for an escape on foot, the action of doing so easing her fears.
The car motored on; the tough Bentley was made of sterner stuff than Jack, who was in full-on panic mode, the fear about leading Chloe and Lucy to the unknown consumed him and his doubts were exacerbated with each shudder of the steering wheel. They limped to York and skirted around the city and continued north until they broke onto roads that Jack knew well and the nostalgia of his youth came flooding back, tinged with sadness. He knew that the kids of today weren’t going to enjoy the idyllic childhood that he’d adored.
“We’re almost there.” Jack said smiling as they entered the village of Great Ouseburn. The village was quiet and there weren’t any dead to be seen, but there was no living either. It could have been a summer’s day in the early hours of the morning, before anybody stirred, but it was 4:30pm and there should have been people milling around.
“Brilliant!” Chloe cried from the back seat, she’d moved out of the footwell and was stretched out on the big leather seat desperate to stretch her legs having spent over seven hours cooped up in the car. Jack and Lucy were feeling much the same and were exhausted from the forced concentration of driving through a hostile territory.
“Where are your keys Jack?” Lucy asked, eager to prepare for getting in the house quickly.
“They should be in the backpack next to Chloe, the black one.” Jack said as Chloe passed the bag over to Lucy.
“We need to be quick getting in, Chloe, we don’t know what it’ll be like, so when we park, wait for me to get out and then hold my hand and follow my lead.” Lucy commanded to Chloe as the scenes of the day lingered on her mind.
“Okay.” Chloe said sullenly.
The car pulled into Eastloch at 5:25pm and they rolled into the village. It was quiet, they’d past a couple of the dead up the road, but the village appeared empty. Driving past the small primary school, Jack felt emotional as memories flooded in waves and his mood turned sombre, the hope of seeing his mum and dad seemed slim and it was now coming to the crunch. He’d blocked all thoughts about them and his friends in recent days as he’d been busy concentrating on staying alive.
Memories of Jack’s childhood were stirring his emotions and he was now speeding through the village to get back home. Lucy didn’t say anything, she was aware of how he must be feeling and looked out of the window as curtains twitched when the car sped past, what was inside those houses, she didn’t know, but kept quiet and focused on getting the three of them safely inside.
Jack pulled into the drive of his childhood home and sighed loudly as he saw it was empty with no sign of his mum and dad’s campervan. He turned off the car and got out and ran around the side of the house to the gate that led to the back garden. Tension had built up and he was at the edge of his nerves, carelessly leaving both Chloe and Lucy behind to fend for themselves. They were quick to follow; Lucy didn’t forget her responsibilities. In Jack’s rush he hadn’t taken the keys with him. The back garden was secure, surrounded by a high wall so was safe from the wandering dead. Lucy caught up to Jack, who was peering through the windows of the house, half crazed, his composure gone.
“Here are the keys, let’s get inside and have a look around.” Lucy said trying not to antagonise Jack who was clearly acting through fear and panic.
He didn’t respond for a minute, lost in his own thoughts, he saw Lucy’s outstretched hand with the keys and the words sunk in. He snatched the keys and unlocked the door and rushed inside. Lucy and Chloe waited in the hallway as Jack whizzed around the house, passing them several times as he searched. Finally, he didn’t come back, so Lucy told Chloe to wait and went to find Jack.
Finding him slouched on a couch with his head in his hands, she approached, and he spoke through tears, “They’re not here, they haven’t been here.”
Lucy sat down beside Jack and held him as he sobbed, she looked for the right words, but none came. After some time, she managed to string a few words together, “It will take them some time to get back from Scotland. We may have beaten them here.”
“Yeah.” Jack said doubtfully, pulling himself together. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this. I don’t know what I expected, I was optimistic, that’s all.”
“Please
don’t apologise, you have nothing to be sorry for. You’ve got us here in one piece and we can start to think about a future now.” Lucy said touching Jack’s face gently.
“I think you were the one who got us here, I merely facilitated it.” Jack said with a half-hearted laugh. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that you came with me. I think I love you.” Jack had let the emotions boil over and saw himself from afar for a minute and wanted the ground to swallow him up.
Lucy didn’t speak and was relieved to see Chloe walk into the room.
Chapter 33 - Lazy Day
Jack spent most of the morning moping around, lost in despair as he thought of his parents out there in the wild. He wasn’t prepared to be as morbid as his lingering doubts wanted him to be, but even so, he wasn’t much fun to be around. He was short tempered and snappy. Lucy didn’t hold his mood against him, she gave him a wide berth and spent time with Chloe, playing games and talking with the girl.
The house still had running water and the gas hobs were working which meant they could all shower, albeit in cold water, and heat up the tinned food for their meals. The garden was surrounded by a tall wall meaning that they could enjoy the spring sunshine without fear of being ambushed by the dead. It was idyllic, spring flowers were blooming, thanks to the loving care of Jack’s parents’ green fingers, the place was peaceful, and swallows swooped in and out, busy with their own tasks, unaware of humanities woes.
To keep out of Jack’s way, Lucy boiled pots of water and spent at least an hour pouring a warm bath for her and Chloe to enjoy. She was eager to relax in the soapy suds and have some time to just lay and think. Since she’d met Jack and Chloe, life had been a whirlwind and there hadn’t been an opportunity to digest anything. Deep down, she knew dwelling on things was probably a bad idea, but she was all too aware that not facing up to problems was far worse. Unselfishly, she let Chloe have the bath first and rushed her through it so she could enjoy the warm water for as long as possible, she had found some paper and colouring pencils and left them on the kitchen table for the girl to entertain herself while she soaked away her troubles.
Lucy drifted off into thought with the warm water wrapping around her body, she looked at her legs and arms and saw she was covered in scratches and bruises. The water stung a little, but she leaned back and relaxed and began to think of things, of life, of Jack, of George and the future.
It was impossible not to feel melancholy and her thoughts drifted off to her time stuck in her apartment waiting to die. She had been watching videos trying to get a better understanding of just what on earth was happening and she stumbled on a few clips of pranksters who had been all the rage at the time; craving attention and fame by playing cruel tricks on their friends and strangers. These clips had irritated her in the normal world; they were always so banal featuring people with carefully coiffured hair, they had to look their best for their followers. These pranksters hadn’t changed their tact with the rise of the dead, they saw social media was more alive than ever and spotted opportunities to increase their exposure. She had watched several videos of well-known social media ‘celebrities’ taking their jokes and cameras out into the world of chaos and destruction with the intention of their own self-serving agendas. One clip showed two brothers, they’d caught one of the dead and tied it to a chair and tied the dead thing’s shoelaces together. One brother then released it to chase the other brother who they’d wrapped in bacon. Another showed a guy running down the street with old-fashioned custard pies slamming them into the faces of the dead. Lucy grimaced at the stupidity of their actions and how utterly pointless and selfish these people were, wasting their time for popularity when they could have been helping others.
Her thoughts moved away from social media to her own witness accounts outside her apartment window, she thought proudly how Jack had recognised her from her videos and that she may have helped other people survive through her accounts of the situation. She still couldn’t get the images of the streets of Manchester out of her head, the army retreating, the early days of people running for their lives, chilling screams and then the streets left with nothing living, just the dead.
Lucy was all too aware of the evils in the world before the breakdown of civilisation, but hadn’t been consumed with them. Although she had suffered great loss through the death of her parents and more recently her lover George, she was still committed to seeing the good in the world. Upon moving to Manchester, Lucy had volunteered for Manchester Action on Street Health, or Mash for short, a charity organisation that helped women who worked in the sex trade. Here, she helped support the Sexual Health Nurses by talking to women who worked as prostitutes on the street or in massage parlours and provided them with free condoms and needles. Many of the women who visited the drop-in centres had suffered tremendously; domestic violence was a common theme as was mental health problems and drug addiction. But even through the tough facades on the faces of the women that came to visit, she saw light and brightness in many of them, just by visiting the drop-in centres, these women were one step closer to seeking the help to get them away from seedy men, the wrong crowds and the desperate cycle of depreciation. It was a tough volunteer gig, but she went to each session with relish, desperate to help as many people as possible, much of the time her efforts were in vain, but she did witness the team helping some of the younger girls to turn their lives around and to begin new lives with hope. But now, as Lucy lay in the bath, thinking about these women, she knew that many of them would have been the first ones to have perished, left vulnerable on the street with no protection. Many would have gone seeking heroin after the breakdown of civilisation looking to satisfy their addiction, leaving whatever safety they’d holed up in to go in search of their vice, only to fall into more immediate perils.
Her thoughts moved on and settled on Jack; she felt a little happiness for the first time since settling in the warm water that was now cooling rapidly. She already knew before he had blurted out his declaration of love the way he felt for her, she could see it by the way he looked at her and how he worried about her. Part of her recoiled at the prospect of someone loving her in such a short space of time, particularly the absurdity of their entire situation, contrary to the recoil, she also cherished being loved, even if she didn’t know if it was real or not. She did feel strongly towards him, but knew they were in some sort of weird honeymoon period, time being warped by the intenseness of living in a world of the dead. Guilt about George nagged at her when she thought of Jack, but her thoughts of George were being left behind, like Jack, she was feeling a sense of closure forced upon her as her old life, the world’s old life, had been wiped away like a shaken Etch-A-Sketch.
She was also a little concerned that Jack was showing signs of being clingy, but reasoned with herself that it was natural with the current order of things. He was a man and society had bred men to feel the need to look after women, it wasn’t a bad thing, but he had shown quite a few signs of panic and had been rash at times when her cool head would have been better equipped to deal with situations. Contradicting her own thoughts, she remembered how he wouldn’t leave her in the face of certain death with a gun held to his head and that he had risked his own life once again to rescue her from Mick’s house. She also liked the fact that he wasn’t a cocky arrogant man, he was conscientious, sensitive and caring and, although he didn’t talk a great deal, he was funny, intelligent and resourceful considering he was from a similar background to Lucy: having no discernible skills for survival. She was also concerned for him, since they’d arrived at his parents’ house, he had withdrawn into himself and pushed both Lucy and Chloe aside, it was natural, of course, as the disappointment of finding the house empty must have been a huge distress and disappointment. She also knew that he’d spent many years in turmoil and self-imposed exile following the death of his wife and child and worried that their current situation would leave him listless and unable to move forward. For the sake of Chloe and herself, they couldn’t afford to
carry a passenger for long. Lucy cursed herself for being so callous, but knew her thoughts were true and she knew she had to shake Jack out of his stupor so they could figure out what to do next.
-
As Lucy bathed herself, Jack had sat and thought, lounging in a large sofa of soft cushions. He was tired from constant travel and worry, but didn’t want to sleep. He thought of his Mum and Dad and tried to remain hopeful. Like Lucy, he sat and thought about the world and let his mind drift off to Amy and Ruby and a time they had spent in the Lake District in a little cottage. It had rained all weekend and the three of them had spent the weekend stuck inside their little cottage. It was complete bliss. He was almost grateful that neither Ruby nor Amy had lived to see the way the world had turned out, but was angry that he couldn’t have gone with them. He didn’t believe in God or Heaven, but would have preferred to go with them rather than go on alone. He lay on the sofa in tears, desolate.
Jack finally managed to pull himself together, as he realised he’d been alone for too long and hadn’t seen Chloe or Lucy for some time. The now familiar sense of unease struck him, wiping his eyes, Jack stood and walked out of the room to go looking for the girls. He walked down a corridor, past the laundry room and hovered by the door that lead to the kitchen, he leaned on the doorframe and looked into the room, sat at the round table at the far side of the room was Chloe, with a towel on her head, the way women wear them, occupying herself with some colouring pencils and paper, she hummed happily as she drew. He watched on and the realisation hit him that he needed to pull himself out of his wallowing mood and focus on the future. The three of them had come so far and seeing the girl’s innocence drawn out through play made him get a grip of his own pathetic self-pitying. He walked into the kitchen and Chloe turned and smiled, “Hi Jack, do you want to come and draw with me?”
