by Stevens, GJ
“I wanted to help. I wanted to do something about their pain, but I couldn't take Ellie there. I wanted to. I really did.”
“It's all right,” Zoe said, handing over a square of tissue. “There's nothing you could have done, I’m sure.”
“That's it?” I asked, regretting my tone as the words flowed, then tried to ignore the glares which returned. “Nothing else?” I said, softening my tone.
Cassidy shrugged.
“It was,” she said, checking her sister's eyes, “pretty fucking unusual for us. Does this kind of shit happen often to you?” Her voice was high and her tone cutting.
I didn't need to look to Naomi to know a one-sided smile hung on her face. I let the silence linger. Let moments pass, listening to the gentle breath of Ellie, a slight rasp on her breath.
“What's wrong with your friend?” Cassidy said.
I looked up from the floor, watching her direct the question to Zoe.
“She's been bitten,” Zoe replied.
Cassidy responded immediately.
“By what?” Her voice was clearly higher than she'd intended.
There was a collective silence and I couldn't tell who was asleep and who was just pretending because they didn’t want to answer.
“She lost a lot of blood, but she's okay now,” Zoe replied.
“It wouldn't stop bleeding,” I said. There was a sound of restless movement around the lantern light.
“Is she a haemophiliac?” Cassidy replied.
Lily raised her head. Naomi and Zoe sat up straight.
I looked to Matt and to Toby, whose expressions had the same alertness. Only Andrew lay asleep, not joining the stunned silence as the words ran around our heads.
I was the first to shake mine.
“We'd have known,” I said.
“If she'd known,” Zoe replied, her eyebrows high on her forehead.
“She's a nurse,” I said. “She would have known.”
Naomi stood.
“What's your explanation? Go on,” she said, shrugging the blankets off her shoulders and stepping out of the dim glow.
Heads dipped once again. Naomi was right. What was the remaining explanation? Chloe had been attacked by a Zombie, but Zombies aren't real. There are no examples in nature, apart from that fungus that drives ants up trees before the infestation pierces through their brain. Apart from that, they're confined to the screen and Halloween parties. Right? Only one example in nature. Is that enough?
“I know what I saw,” I said, pulling a great lug of air.
“So, what did you see? Tell us.” It was Naomi's voice, taunting me in the shadows.
Soon she reappeared and sat back down with a rectangular bottle of bourbon at her lips, offering the bottle to Zoe as she finished.
I kept my mouth still as I considered her words. She was calling me out again, questioning my sanity. Would I do the same if I was on the other side? If she had gone through what I had to free Chloe from the grip of that animal? Would I believe her without question?
No, I wouldn't.
Pulling a long draw from the bottle I winced as the spirit burned down my throat.
“Her eyes were milky white,” I said in a slow voice, the last of the fumes escaping my throat.
“Cataracts,” Naomi replied.
“She was barely in her thirties,” I said, trying hard not to let my voice falter.
“She was in a bad way,” Zoe said. Her voice was soft; at least Zoe was desperate not to antagonise the discussion.
“Half her face was missing,” I replied, my voice growing harder.
Cassidy looked down at her sister.
“Sorry,” I said, lowering my volume. “But we watched her die. She'd stopped breathing. We all saw it.”
I looked towards Andrew, still asleep. I turned to Chloe and her pale, washed-out face.
“And that smell,” I replied, and caught a whiff of the odour, the stench of decay. The sting of human waste.
Taking the bottle again, I dowsed my throat. Still the smell was there.
“Can none of you smell that?” I asked, and watched the group exchange looks, watched each sample the air, their noses turning up. They could smell it, I was certain.
“There is something hanging around,” Toby said, but a flicker of light on the far wall caught my attention.
I stood and through a thin cloud of smoke I saw the far end of the warehouse had begun to glow orange.
16
“Holy shit,” I said, almost under my breath.
Toby's words were not so quiet as he climbed to his feet, his face glowing in the reflection of the heat pouring our way.
“Get up, get up,” I shouted, bending down to shake Andrew's shoulders. I didn't wait for him to stir. Instead, I ran to the fire exit and pulled the bright red extinguisher from the wall.
Running along the aisles, the heat built on my chest. It would have been a welcome relief if it hadn't been for the fumes catching in my breath.
Toby joined me, another extinguisher in his hand as we rushed forward to the glowing wall with the remains of plastic posters turning black as they slid to the floor.
At first we saw no flames and only thin smoke, but as we rushed forward the windowless double doors burst open. A cloud of smoke and toxic heat blasted out, forcing us to stop as we doubled over.
Glancing back, my mouth in the crook of my arm, I watched Toby retreating and turned back to see flames lick around the side of the doors as they rattled open and closed, billowing with heat.
I abandoned the extinguisher before running back to our campsite, joining Toby's shouts for everyone to grab what they could and get the hell out.
Instead of leaping to the exit, the group split, disappearing amongst the shelves. I knelt at Chloe's side, the rancid stench powerful enough to break through the thick smoke scratching at my lungs.
Lily knelt with me, wrapping Chloe in the blankets, folding up the corners ready as a makeshift stretcher.
Sharing her downcast look, I took a moment. Chloe had grown even more pale, more gaunt as the background light grew. Her breath more shallow, barely there.
To the building heat, I looked along the aisles, smelt the burning plastic before I saw the contents of the shelves smouldering as they dripped to the floor.
I shouted, hurrying everyone toward the front of the shop as I dragged Chloe's blankets behind me and pulled her toward the barred exit.
Soon I was joined by the others with rucksacks on their backs, the load getting lighter with each hand adding a hold to the stretcher.
Arriving at the door, we took our time to gather fresh air as we handled her through the entrance. Looking around, I saw it wasn't just me who was doing everything to avoid catching Chloe's sunken eyes.
Soon we were out in the chill night, with no idea what the time was but were surprised again at how bright the half-moon lit up the night.
The mood sat heavy as I rushed into the car, revving the engine as I tried to disconnect the Freelander from the building.
With Andrew, Toby and Matt back in the burning building pushing the bonnet as hard as they could, the engine roared in their faces. Metal continued to grip and when the wheels eventually moved, the car stayed still and filled the air with a thick rubber burn.
The heat raged out to where we stood around the car. Every gaze scoured the horizon, no matter what they believed had happened earlier in the evening. We saw no movement. Nothing but the casual sway of distant trees. We were in the middle of nowhere.
“Let's follow the road,” I said in a whisper, picking up the front right corner of the blanket.
The others followed in silence at a cautious pace. Heads turned left and right, darting at every sound.
At the entrance to the car park I twisted, looking back at the building and watched as the fire consumed it to the frame. The pyre plumed with black smoke rising into the night, joining the countless others.
Soon we relaxed into the rhythm of the procession,
Chloe's insubstantial weight hardly a burden. Still no one spoke, taking comfort in the spectacular field of vision. We could see for miles.
No one said anything, not even giving voice to the terrible odour we were carrying between us.
“Stop,” came Lily's voice and everyone started at the break in the silence, halting in unison and lowering the blankets to the floor as we turned.
Lily fell to her knees at Chloe's side. She pulled open the covers to take her wrist, pressing her two fingers against her skin.
We watched on, our spray of white breath slowing, shrugging coats tighter around our shoulders or raising packs higher. Each of us did anything but wait motionless for the verdict.
Lily looked up in my direction, a tear rolling down her cheek. Why did she choose me to receive her deep heartache?
I raised my eyebrows to prompt the next obvious question. She turned down at Chloe's face and knelt in, putting her ear to her mouth.
“No,” I shouted, my voice cutting through the night as I swooped down to push her to the side.
17
Lily rocked back with my swipe, falling towards the tarmac until caught, wide-eyed, by Toby standing behind.
To the raised voices questioning what they saw with varying ferocity, his hands grabbed under her armpits and helped her to her feet.
Blocking out the cries from the onlookers, I turned, ignoring Toby's glare and his unsure stare, ready to show his teeth as I saw him only just holding back the instinct to raise his fists.
Determined not to be distracted, my vision filled with the pale glow of Chloe's face, despite the darkness. My concentration fixed on every movement I couldn't see, with my fingers curled around the gun in my pocket, my gaze searching for any change.
The scrutiny was cut short with a sharp jab to my shoulder and I turned to see Naomi with her fist still raised, ready for me to open my mouth and say the wrong thing.
“Fucking prick,” she said, her words just as sharp as the knuckles on her hand.
Turning away, I swallowed down my growing anger as I looked over the assembled.
Zoe at Naomi's back, her eyes filled with terror and on the verge of tears, her hands reaching toward me; Cassidy backing off, looking down her nose with Ellie buried in her side.
Andrew was with me with a nod in my direction. He was the only one who'd shared my witness.
I didn't catch Matt's expression from my side of the blanket because my gaze had already fallen, my eyes wide again and watched as Lily, back on her knees, lowered her head to Chloe's face.
Toby stood to block any second attempt.
I turned away, stepping from the blanket and from the darkness of the pack. With three paces taken I heard the intake of breath and turned, a commotion lighting the centre of the group.
The first I saw was Cassidy dragging Ellie backwards, running, falling into a hedge.
Next, I saw Andrew stood still, transfixed on what I hadn't yet got to. Despite my desperation to see what I'd feared, my vision filled with Naomi and Zoe clutched tight together.
Zoe's face pointed to the ground, a wide scream shrieking from her mouth. Naomi stared back, her eyes wide, her mouth wider, her skin more pale than I ever imagined.
It was at that point I knew she’d conceded, knew she understood what I’d been saying all along.
I turned to the centre. Time didn't slow, but still I took in all the detail.
Chloe rose with her mouth attached somehow to the side of Lily's face.
Toby was in there too, his hands between them, pulling. He was grappling to pull the pair free.
Matt shouted, cursing, his words filling the air blue, unable to do anything to his partner who'd clamped her mouth deep on to our friend’s face.
Blinking for the first time, I was powerless to aid. I was a spectator, like Andrew, with a fixed stare looking on, unable to do anything. We couldn't attack our friend. I didn’t have it in me to repeat the violence I’d raged on Chloe’s attacker, couldn't repeat the same on Chloe with the sliver of doubt Naomi had planted.
We weren't doctors, we'd already been told. Maybe Chloe wasn't dead. It was a condition she would recover from, no matter what the made-up TV said.
It was as Chloe's arms raised and her mouth let go I acted.
With Lily's head falling to the red-soaked blankets and clamping anew on Toby's hand to his screams of terror, I knew I had to do something.
My hand ached. My knuckles were white with effort as I gripped the gun, pulling it loose from my pocket.
I pushed the weapon out, screaming for Toby to move the fuck away.
He looked toward me, his face in a deep, contorted shape and he winced before, with the help of Matt at his back, he managed to pull his arm away.
With teeth rending flesh, he was free and falling backwards on top of Matt as they tripped over each other to the tarmac.
I took a hard swallow and levelled the gun. As I did, the woman, the friend who could no longer be called Chloe, stood as if alive.
There she was with no awkwardness, bringing a flash of doubt into my mind. The flash passed and I pulled the trigger before the empty click reminded me I hadn’t pushed the bullet back in.
Stepping away with my view fixed on her blood-dripping face, she walked forward. Her eyes were open and milky white, fixed in an expression of interest sparking electricity up my spine.
I stepped back again, my pace much slower than hers, but I had the lead and my left hand had found the bullet as my right fumbled for how the hell to release the magazine.
She was closing too quickly.
I found the release and the magazine clattered to the floor, the sound deadened by asthmatic breath rasping from the thing's lungs.
I launched the gun, which struck its head, but despite the jolt it continued forward. With breath like a mortuary with a faulty AC, it was soon close enough to touch and I watched her fingers clawing out.
The bandage had fallen from her arm and I saw the deep bite marks were dry, her hands cold and waxy as they gripped around my throat.
I stumbled. Wheeling backwards, my senses overloaded with an explosion of red light.
18
Vision blanched red. My ears rang. I lay rasping for rancid breath as if a great weight clung to my chest, the last few moments erased from memory.
Nausea raced up from my stomach. Nerves rattled as if all lit in the same moment, my body invaded by an alien sense.
Reality flashed back and realisation took hold. I was back in the moment.
Despair sank into my bones until, without warning, the suffocating mass released.
My first thought was death, but my nerves seemed to calm and the nausea lifted. A peace surrounded me until I felt hands rushing over my shoulders and fingers tracing around my neck, forcing the turn of my head either side.
The bright red abated. Blinking as hands gripped the straps of my rucksack and words pushed through the bells in my ears, a shadow moved across my field of vision.
Before I could concentrate on the sounds, I was on my feet. They were his arms, Andrew’s, wrapped around me. Pulling me close.
“You're okay,” he repeated.
I wasn't sure if the words were just for my benefit.
Releasing his clutch he still held my arm, his fingers gripping my shoulder, the other on my hand.
We walked, his pace pulling me to a slow trot. By now the darkness had replaced the blinding red and I saw shapes on the horizon, blurred and unmoving, but they were shapes nonetheless. The cold took hold again. I could feel my face cooling.
About to turn and ask what the hell had happened, he dragged me to the side of the road, manhandling me through a hedgerow. My face scraped against thorns, his hand to my mouth as we came to rest.
All I heard was our fast breath and drawing down his hand I nodded, keeping my voice quiet.
As my lungs slowed I tried to tune out the constant tone and listened to the nothing in the air, the stench still hanging in my nostrils.
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We waited. Listening to the rattle of the leaves with each gentle breeze. Listening for what I feared.
Spying out between the thick growth, all I could see were the stars more vibrant than I could have ever thought.
How much time past before I spoke wasn't clear, but it was long enough to know we were safer than we had been moments ago.
“What happened?” I asked, hoping he heard my voice. I could barely hear myself.
“What do you remember?” he replied, his words just as quiet, taking all my concentration to hear.
“Chloe,” I said with a pause, as I convinced myself I'd heard something I hadn't before. “Coming for me.” I watched as Andrew's silhouette gave a shallow nod. “The gun was empty.”
“I shot her with a firework,” he said and paused. “I thought you were toast,” he added, leaning in with a tight grip to my arm.
“You got the locker open?” I asked, remembering back to the store.
His weak silhouette nodded.
“What are we hiding from?” I said. “Toby?” I added, as his arm in her grip jumped into my head.
“No,” Andrew replied. “There were more of them.”
I let my breath settle and new fear spiked the blood in my veins, my hand diving for my pocket and finding the stiff cold of the bullet.
“The gun?” I said.
Andrew reached somewhere I couldn't see and rested the cold metal in my hands, the magazine home in the base.
I squeezed his hand in reply and closed my eyes and tried to envision films and cop programmes. Soon my fingers found the release once again.
By touch alone, pausing my breath with each loud click, I fed the lonely bullet into the magazine and carefully pushed it home just in time to hear movement; a rustle of the bushes at our back.
I felt Andrew's surprise as keen as mine. The noise was behind us, not on the road.
No words came, but I could swear the stench of rotten flesh grew stronger.
Andrew rested his palm on my chest, a signal to stay still, to make no noise. It was a signal I didn't need.
The rustle grew louder and I swore I heard voices. I turned towards Andrew, but I couldn't see his response. The noise was growing.
