by Ryan Casey
“By the way,” he said. “Don’t bother trying to scream or anything like that. Wouldn’t want to attract any flesh eaters now, would we?” He winked at Riley and slammed the door shut.
The room was plunged into darkness.
“You okay, Stan?”
Stan was silent. Every now and then, he let out a wince, and shuffled around in his chair. They’d been locked away in this room for what felt like hours. Now that Riley’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he could just about make Stan out in the dim light peeking around the sides of the blackout blind. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear voices. Debating and arguing. Sam and Aaron deciding what to do with them.
“Stan, I… I don’t know how to say this but—”
“You shouldn’t have come here,” Stan snapped. “Putting everybody at risk.”
Riley wasn’t particularly fond of what Stan was implying, but he was relieved to finally hear him break his silence. “I didn’t know anything like this had gone down. And… and I couldn’t just leave you. Not on those terms.”
“‘Those terms,’” Stan scoffed. “Which terms? The, ‘my wife was murdered’ terms?”
Riley sighed. “I’m not here to argue with you. And I… I am really, genuinely sorry about what happened to your wife. But you have to believe me when I tell you that I didn’t kill her. I found her… I found her turned. Into one of those things. I walked downstairs and I was… I wasn’t thinking straight. I couldn’t tell you, not yet. I couldn’t understand it myself. So I got Ted and when we went back, she was… yeah.”
Stan took a few moments to mull over Riley’s words. “And you thought by coming out here on a little suicide mission, you could win me over, hmm?”
“I guess.” Riley tugged at the tape around his hands. He was completely stuck to the chair. “Would’ve been nice of you to tell us about having a dairy farm, though. Milk. Eggs. Meat. Just saying.”
Stan snorted. “I’ve only known you people a day. I needed a backup for me and… for me and Jill. In case things went awry. Besides, you can’t tell me you don’t have any secrets of your own. The gun that you suspiciously picked up from a zombiefied police officer? How about that for luck?”
Riley felt as if Stan had grabbed a baseball bat and swung his own perusal of the truth right back into his face. Very hard.
“You know, me and Jill were actually going to go abroad in December. We… we’ve got family. Daughter and her son-in-law. They live in Canada. Lived there for three years now. Haven’t seen them once since they left. Jill, she… she never liked flying. But she’d got over that this year. Went for some hypnotherapy shit and strangely enough, it seemed to do her good.”
Riley didn’t say anything in return. Best to leave him speaking now he’d finally opened his mouth.
“I just—” Stan sniffed back. His voice was croaky. “I just wish we’d had the chance to go see them. Both of us. A chance to go see them just once in Canada. But…” He stopped and sniffed again.
“I understand, Stan. I understand.”
“What the fuck do you understand? How can you possibly understand?”
Riley took a deep breath. “My parents walked out on me seven years ago. I was in a bad place. Drank a lot. Did a few drugs. And they just decided one day that enough was enough. They couldn’t look after me anymore.” He gulped down the lump in his throat. The tingling sensation had returned to his arms. “So one day, I got up in the afternoon again, and there was just a note… a note on the side. A note saying that they’d gone away. Left the country. Been planning it for ages. And that the house was on the market so I’d have to get out of there. They left me with nothing. I was officially homeless.”
“Sounds to me like a perfect kick up the arse.”
“It was. I got a job. Dream job—music journalist. At the local paper, but still. Everything I’d ever dreamed of. But was I happy? Truly? No. I was living at my… my grandma and grandpa’s. And they were great for me, but I was a loner. I had nobody, not really.”
“Did you… did you ever see your parents again? Or have you, should I say?”
Riley smiled. The memories flooded back to him at full force. “Yes. And no. I… I had a car accident a year ago. Was in a coma for… for a couple of days. And they visited me there, but I never saw them. So, yes and no.”
Stan sighed. “It… it sounds like your grandparents are good people.”
“Were good people.” Riley didn’t have to elaborate. Stan would understand.
“I… I suppose that’s why I get on with Anna so well. She reminds me of my daughter a little. Attitude. And my daughter’s a nurse too. Jill always liked it when Anna gave her the jabs. Must’ve been the same for her.”
Riley started to reply but something stopped him. An image in his head. Or, at least, a series of images.
The elderly creatures swarming out of the residence around the corner from his grandma’s.
The signs in the supermarket pharmacy: Flu Jab Season: Get Yours Here & Stay Safe for Winter!
Jill sneezing into a tissue. “It’s that bloody flu jab again. Always brings me down.”
And Anna. “I guess we really do all have our secrets.”
“Riley?”
Riley jolted from his daze. Adrenaline rushed through his body. The flu jab. The creatures—they had to have something to do with the flu jab. “Stan, what… When did Jill have her… her flu jab. When did she—”
“Slow down,” Stan said. “What are you talking about?”
Riley’s mind spun with theories and memories. The lack of clear bites on the creatures in the pharmacy. Jill’s body, clean except for the self-imposed bite on her arm. Anna’s description of the outbreak at the surgery. It had to be related. It couldn’t be a coincidence.
“Riley? What is it?”
“I think I—”
The door swung open. Sam charged in, gun in hand.
“It’s your lucky day,” he said. Aaron sneaked in beside him and started to untie their feet, keeping his gun on them. “We’ve just about decided what we’re going to do with you.”
“And?” Riley said.
Sam snickered. “You’re no use to us alive. But we have a couple of friends who you could be good use to.”
Aaron yanked Riley to his feet and held the gun against his back as Sam did the same to Stan.
“Let’s go,” Sam said. “There’s a group that would really love to meet you.”
Stan nodded at Riley. His face was awash with fear. The nod was a sort of, “If I don’t see you again, goodbye” kind of nod. Riley wasn’t sure whether he liked it, but he returned it out of kindness.
Sam pushed Stan first. He walked with his shoulders broadened out, his rifle in one hand. They moved past the corridor with the covered up chickens and towards the locked up door at the opposite end.
“Give it here,” Sam said. He held his hand out and Aaron tossed a set of keys over to him.
“You sure this is… this is the right way to—”
“Yes, Aaron,” Sam said. He stuffed the keys into the padlock and turned them. “They took something from us, so we’ll take something from them.” He pulled the padlock away from the door and gripped the rusty metal handle. “On your best manners, boys.”
He pulled the door open.
Stan stumbled back. Riley tried to move free of Aaron’s grip. His eyes locked on what was ahead. “Please,” Riley said. “This… We haven’t done anything. I swear to you.” He pushed himself back against Aaron, whose gun dug further and further into his lower ribs.
“Amanda, Beatrice, and Jenny — meet your new friends. But no fighting over them. Not too much, anyway. Bring the young one through, Aaron.”
Riley dug his feet into the ground. He tried to stop himself moving but Aaron was pushing too hard.
“What’s the matter? Not like your new friends?” Sam laughed as Aaron pushed Riley closer and closer towards the room.
Inside, there were three women. All of them were dan
gling from meat hooks, which were wedged through their necks.
And all of them were lurching forward, growling, and snapping their jaws.
CHAPTER FIVE
Riley dug his heels into the floor. “Please,” he begged. “You don’t have to do this. We can help you. Please.”
Aaron continued to push Riley into the room where the creatures hung from meat hooks. Sam smiled as he held his gun at Stan’s head, dragging him closer to the room too.
The creatures edged forward. The skin around their neck, where the sharp meat hooks were piercing through, split as they stretched themselves further and further towards the humans, their eyes glazed yet focused. As they groaned, blood dribbled out of the hole in their necks and down their already blood-soaked dresses.
Sam applauded and laughed. “This is gonna be fun. Screw TV—this is gonna be real live entertainment, right here. Come on, Aaron, get him in here.”
Riley could still feel pressure against his lower back, but it wasn’t intensifying. It had stopped. He turned his head to look at Aaron.
“What’s keeping you, little bro?” Sam asked.
Aaron’s bottom lip was shaking. The gun lowered from Riley’s back. Aaron couldn’t make eye contact with anybody. “I… I can’t. I can’t.”
Sam frowned and glared at Aaron. “The fuck do you mean you can’t? You can. You fucking weak piece of shit. You can. Okay?”
Riley and Stan exchanged a wary glance. Sam’s attention had waned. He pushed Riley to one side. “You, stay put, or I’ll make the fuck sure you go through a world of pain, okay?” He squared up to Aaron and lifted his chin. “Hey, little bro. Come on. You’re tough, deep down.” He punched his chest. “I know you are. Wuss on the surface but inside, you’re like me. Brutal. Y’know?”
Riley and Stan looked at one another again. Sam’s gun was still pointed in their direction. Riley’s heart raced as the creatures continued to groan, continued to stretch themselves towards the humans, more and more of their neck muscle tearing as they did. They couldn’t run. The passage to the exit was narrow. Sam would shoot the second they flinched, and he wouldn’t miss.
Aaron’s gun was by his side. He shook his head. “I can’t. I won’t. When the government and the police come back. They’ll… They’ll find out about this. They’ll find out.”
“Bullshit.” Sam pressed his forehead against Aaron’s. “You just don’t have it in you to make the tough calls. These fuckers have been killing our animals. Trying to fuck over our livelihood. So now we’ve gotta fuck with theirs.”
“But Dad. Mum. How would they—”
Sam smacked Aaron across the face with his rifle. He dragged his head back to face him, then turned around and pointed the gun at Riley and Stan just to make them aware that he was still keeping an eye on them. “Don’t fucking talk about Dad and Mum. Dad and Mum were too weak for this. And those sisters of ours?” He jabbed the gun in the direction of the meat hooks. “Look what happened to them. Bitches. Always were Dad and Mum’s favourites. But they’re gone and we’re still here. So what does that say to you? Hmm?”
“Please, we can—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Sam said. He swung around and planted the end of the gun against Riley’s forehead. “If you don’t want to play with my sisters, you can fucking get screwed. Little bro, you need to toughen up. Get this gun. Hold it. Now.”
Aaron’s eyes widened. They met Riley’s. Held for a few seconds. “But… but I…”
“Do it. Now.”
“I’m not going to stand for this,” Stan said. He lurched himself at Sam.
But Sam acted fast. He swung the butt of the gun at Stan’s head. Stan dropped to the floor. His eyes were closed. He was still. His feet were by the room with the creatures in, who pulled themselves further forward, almost tasting their prey.
“Stan!”
“Shut up or I’ll make you eat him instead.” Sam loaded the gun. “Little bro, you’re going to have to toughen up in this world. Things, they ain’t like they were before. There’s no room for anybody who can’t make the tough calls.”
Aaron snivelled and whimpered as Sam held the gun to Riley’s head. “Please, Sam. Please.”
“Just let us leave. Please.” Everything was like a blur to Riley. Something he was watching on television. He was just a music journalist. Things like this, they didn’t happen to people like him. To normal people. “Please.”
Sam shook his head and winked at Riley. “Treat this as a lesson. Take this lesson to the grave with you. Do not fuck with somebody else’s property. Do not fuck with—”
A gunshot rattled through the air.
Riley clenched his teeth. Closed his eyes. Waited for the pain to claw its way through his skull and into his brain.
But his ears were still ringing. The gun that was prodded against his head had gone. Something heavy thudded to the floor.
Riley opened his eyes.
Aaron’s mouth was wide open. He was holding his gun with both of his trembling hands. He gasped. Stepped forward a little, then backwards.
At his feet, his brother’s body lay.
Riley closed the door to the room where the creatures on meat hooks swung towards them. The second the door slammed, their groans were drowned out. He lifted the padlock from the floor and stuck it back across the handle, throwing the keys to Stan, who was on his feet again. “We’ll take what we need and we’ll get out of here. Take more care of these keys in future, too.”
Stan stared, wide-eyed, at Sam’s body on the floor. Blood pooled out of his smashed skull, seeping in between the cracks of the dusty tiles. Aaron was completely static, breathing heavily and loudly. He lowered his gun.
Riley approached him. He remained wary of the gun in Aaron’s hand. He’d just shot his brother, so anything was possible. He lifted a hand, trying to zone Aaron back into the room again. “Hey. You okay?”
Aaron lifted his head. Blinked, as if waking from a long nap. “I… He’s dead. I killed him.”
“We’re… we’re going to get out of here.” Riley nodded at Stan. “We’re going to take some supplies of our own and we’re going to leave this place and you aren’t going to bother us again.”
Tears streamed down Aaron’s cheeks. He fell to his knees and rested his head on his brother’s stomach, solid and lifeless as a stone. The bullet had pierced right the way through his skull. He wasn’t coming back.
“I’ll check the hens for eggs. Few of ‘em will have been at bursting point yesterday. And I have some crates of milk lying about.” Stan moved to one of the hen covers and lifted it. The hen immediately started clucking. “Hey, girl. Keep yourself calm. What’ve you got for Daddy?”
Riley crouched beside Aaron, who sobbed onto his brother’s chest. Sam’s eyes were bulging. A genuine look of surprise washed across his greying face. Blood-splattered, brain-coated surprise. “If it’s any consolation, I sort of know how you feel.”
Aaron lifted his head. His cheeks were reddened and damp. “What do you know about this? What can you possibly know?”
“I killed my grandma,” Riley said. “She’d already turned, but… but it wasn’t something I was comfortable with doing. And if it’s any consolation, I think you have a better shot on your own.”
Aaron shook his head. “He was the tough one. Always went on about how he could make the tough calls, even before all this. I don’t stand a chance on my own.”
Riley sighed. Images of Jordanna, surrounded by creatures as he accelerated the car away from her. Pete’s wife in the supermarket, screaming as the biters pushed her to the floor, her husband tearing a chunk of flesh out of her neck. “But maybe you don’t have to be on your own.”
Stan turned around with a handful of eggs. “What? I hope you aren’t suggesting what I think—”
“It’s about time we started letting people in, Stan. The kid’s got a good shot.”
“He tried to kill us,” Stan roared. “I knew you coming here was too good to be bloody true.
I knew in the back of my mind that somehow, you’d find a way to royally screw things over.”
“I—I didn’t want to kill you,” Aaron said. “I swear. That was all my brother. And… and look.” He gestured to his brother’s dead body on the floor, which twitched and shook every few seconds. “Look what I did. Because… because I knew what he was going to do wasn’t right.”
“Sometimes you have to do stuff that isn’t right.”
“Preach. I just shot my brother.”
Stan was speechless. He looked at Riley then at Aaron, before shaking his head and waving an egg-filled hand in their direction. “Whatever. Whatever.” He stormed off to the main room with the cows.
“Where are you—?”
“Getting some milk.” He disappeared into the next room.
Riley nodded at Aaron. “I think that’s a yes.”
Aaron took a few forced deep breaths in and out and wiped his tearful eyes. “I swear I mean what I said. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt no-one. I swear.”
Riley cringed. “On two conditions. Okay?”
“Whatever. Whatever you need.”
Riley grabbed the gun from Aaron’s loose hand. “First, you let me keep hold of this. For now. I have to fight your case to the rest of the group. Being in possession of a gun isn’t the best welcome gift.”
Aaron nodded reluctantly. “And the second thing?”
Riley stuffed the gun into his pocket and reached for the rifle, which was still wedged between Sam’s stiff fingers. “Brush up on your double negatives. There’s a big difference between ‘not hurting no-one’ and ‘not hurting anyone.’”
Aaron frowned in puzzlement.
“Oh, and um… what would you like to do? With your brother’s body?”
Aaron placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder and rose to his feet.
Then, he swung his foot right into the side of his chest.
His face was red. His eyes were bloodshot. Saliva sprayed out of the corners of his mouth.
He gasped as he stopped, catching his breath.
