by Stevens, GJ
“Don’t be in such a hurry,” she said, taking bites from a digestive.
“I’m on a course of treatment. The last dose is in the van too. I need it before nightfall.”
She didn’t speak at first. Instead she watched as I relented and ate, head shaking from side to side.
“And if you don’t get it? Sorry, stupid question.”
I knew what I should say. I knew what I wanted to say would be too much. The words should be too much for anyone to take and so I watched as she raised her eyebrows in our silence.
Still her expression told me she expected an answer. She deserved an answer.
“Do you turn into a werewolf?” she said. I could tell she’d forced the laughter that came after.
Part of me was glad when I heard the front door collapse under the continued assault, but I soon changed my mind when she dropped the packet to the floor, taking my hand and pulling me out of the room, giving me no time to protest.
Her pace hurried as the scrape and moan rose from the stairwell. We were soon out the other side and in another light room. The windows were wide open and after handing her the gun I balanced on the window ledge, daylight bright in my face. Cold air stole what remained in my lungs as I stared out at the view of the drop that swam beneath me to my left and right.
“Give me your hands,” she said.
I turned, looking down to the flat roof.
“Give me your hands,” she repeated.
I could do nothing else but what she told. With a firm grip, she lowered me down, relief coming as my feet touched the cushion of the roof and her hands released.
Wobbling to the bitumen roof, I leant against the brick to slow the vertigo. The flat roof felt as if it gave way for a moment as Alex let it catch her weight. Relief let me breathe when it held.
With my head settling as I pulled at the fresher air, I took in the view and the sight of the van glistening in the bright morning light.
It was in one piece, but may as well have been on another continent. Several gardens stood in our way, each teeming with a writhing mass of dead bodies whose stench filled my nostrils anew. Even if we could get through their masses, we’d have to scale the hastily-erected metal fence hemming in the densest collection of the creatures I’d ever seen.
The van rocked side to side as repeatedly the walking dead crashed and bounced off its paintwork.
69
Stepping back from the edge of the roof, I looked away from the impossible sight, Alex’s hand stopping me from falling over the edge as my shaking legs struggled to hold my weight.
The stench built to a thick soup as it rose from the bodies crowding between the houses. My gaze sunk to the bloodied hands pointed straight in the air, the fingers clawing, scratching at the brick as they clambered for traction to get at our flesh.
I knew any moment I could see her face in the crowd.
Waves of the dead rippled forward in every space, every patch of ground covered with the creatures eager to get to where we stood. I turned back to the van, frantic to seek a possible path through the seething collection. My mind raced to find how I could get to the goal I had no choice but to reach.
In front of us were six houses between us and the van; their back gardens at least. Each had a single storey extension, more or less as deep as the one we stood on, projecting out from each original house. All but one had a flat roof, but it didn’t matter; the gulf between each structure much larger than we could dream of ever reaching without help.
I turned to Alex and our eyes locked.
“What now?” I said and turned away, frustration racing my heart each time I stared out, not able to find a path free of the swarm. Our only choice would be a deadly dash through the scratching, grabbing hands, biting teeth surging for us even now, despite being out of reach.
I looked around the garden to my right, but only with half a heart. It didn’t matter if an aluminium bridge lay on the grass; the teeming crowd of scraping clawed hands and snapping mouths would get us the moment we dropped to the ground to retrieve it.
Despite that, I didn’t find what I needed, only piles of old paint pots along the fence line.
I turned at a strange high sound ripping over the low, background moan. With surprise, I found Alex not standing at my side and panic sprinted up my insides until I saw her kneeling by the edge of the roof as if she were about to climb down to her certain death.
“What the hell? You won’t stand a chance,” I said, rushing towards her. With each step I felt the roof compress under my feet.
About to grab her arm, she lifted and as she did, pulled up a sliver of bitumen felt.
I stood back, regarding her curious smile, letting myself calm as I fixed on trying to figure out why she was pulling the roof apart with us on it.
“What are you doing?”
As I spoke, I moved beside her to get a better view.
She didn’t speak at first, her breath lost in the effort as she stood, the muscles in her arms tightening against her shirt as she heaved, stuttering the felt up and sending nails popping as they gave out their grip.
“We need to get something to bridge the gap. I think there might be tools or a ladder in this house,” she said, flicking a look over her shoulder. “Can’t think of anything else. You?”
I ignored the question and she didn’t linger for my reply, instead she discarded great rips of dark tar-backed felt before leaning over the result of her destruction.
I peered in to look for myself.
Beneath the felt were chipboard panels, their surface swollen with water and peppered with stubborn nails still surrounded by skirts of felt.
“What now?” I said stepping back.
Alex didn’t answer, but the wood beneath her feet did. As did the dust spraying out of the gaping hole she disappeared through.
70
Jumping back to the wall of the main house, I stood wide-eyed with my hands flat against the cold brick. Breath fixed in my throat as I willed for the dust and chaos to settle whilst listening, keen for Alex’s call, letting me know she was still okay.
The dust stopped falling, but the commotion had whipped the surrounding crowd to a frenzy. Still, I hadn’t heard her voice.
Taking a tentative step forward, I didn’t want to join Alex’s side and land on the floor next to her body I imagined spread out ready for the chalk outline.
Sinking to my knees, I crawled, spreading the weight across my limbs in hope, in desperation, to get close.
The surface gave just a little with each of my movements, feeling as if with just a little more pressure I would be by her side.
Creeping slowly forward whilst pausing every other moment, I could hear the racket of creatures crowding, their ragged low moans not falling back.
I shot a glance backward, peering up to the window of the main house, cursing my caution when I saw no shadows behind the glass and sped up my movement toward the edge of the gaping hole.
Split, dark sodden wooden sheets lay under the great hole, each folded, bent or buckled, broken apart and sprinkled with the white dust of plaster. Loose remains fell from the ceiling as I edged closer.
Squinting at the neat lines of thick wooden beams on the roof below me, I followed each line covered with a dark frosting of mould where the chipboard had gone from between.
Laying my front flat to the wood, I edged further forward, urging the pile on the ground to move.
Paintbrushes, rollers and tools lined the walls hanging on metal hooks. A wooden bench ran along the closest wall, its surface notched and paint flecked from years of hard labour. I could think of so many ways we could use the sharp tools.
Shaking my head, I tried to clear the thoughts when I saw the metal step ladder sitting in the corner at an angle, its length too great to fit flat to the wall. It would be perfect to bridge the gap. Perfect for Alex to climb out. All she had to do was rise from the pile as long as her heart still beat in her chest.
I saw movement in
the room at the bottom of my vision, not in the centre as I expected. A boot rose and fell as it tried to mount the pile, but somehow it couldn’t get high enough, couldn’t coordinate its movements.
Why was Alex standing at the edge of the room? Were those the boots she’d been wearing when she fell?
I crept further, despite knowing I was already overhanging the beam and gambling how far the rot had affected the structure.
With the improved vantage, I regretted my movement, regretted the blood-soaked trousers connected to the boots. I regretted the second pair of legs joining at their side and the realisation surged through my chest.
It wasn’t Alex but a creature from upstairs, or fresh through the front door. Now the pile below me rose. Another groan added to the low moans already filling the air.
Alex’s short hair came through the rubble dusted with white as she sat up, her face covered in plaster, giving her an even more pale complexion, her features much like the creatures at her front. The only colour came from a line of bright red dripping from a wound to her forehead. If she hadn’t died from the fall and turned, she would soon fulfil the fate unless I did something.
Scrambling to my feet, I took little care with their placement. Clenching my teeth, I wrapped my hands tight around my chest and jumped.
71
I’d like to say I fell with grace, keeping an elegant line while the chipboard crumpled, not waving my arms wild at my sides as I abandoned the previous second of planning.
I’d like to say I didn’t scream, not turning the air blue as I cursed in a shrill call.
I’d like to say I watched the fall. Stared with my expression fixed. A picture of composure as the floor raced towards me, watching as I knocked the ghouls off their feet instead of arriving to curse the slap of the ground to my knees; broken bones only prevented by the crack of plasterboard catching my fall.
Alex stood as I raced to my feet, knowing either side the creatures would climb to their own; their slow, toddler awkwardness my only advantage.
Fists balled, I stepped forward, my glare fixed on her dazed expression, seeking hope, recognition. Searching for any sign of humanity.
She blinked.
I racked my brain for meaning. Was this only a human action? Had I seen the creatures blink? The dead ones at least?
“Speak,” I shouted, knocking her sideways as I jumped over the mound, my hands landing on either side of the cold metal ladder.
Still, she hadn’t uttered a word as I swung the awkward load whilst separating out each half and thrusting it to the floor. My feet were already to the second rung as it landed, swaying to the side with each rubber shoe resting on the uneven ground.
Back on the roof, I crawled to my front, twisting and turning, scraping my chest across the sodden board as I landed. I peered below, anxious with my hands to the top rung and ready to hoist it high if Alex didn’t have the will to follow.
She stared up, mouth wide and coughed.
The dead didn’t cough.
“Alex,” I shouted, her stare snapping to her side.
The creatures were on their feet, teetering for traction on the edge of the rubble.
Alex blinked. I saw recognition, her upturned expression as she looked at me.
“Alex,” I shouted again, ignoring the harmonising calls.
She turned, twisted sideways, face alarming as she caught the sight.
Grabbing the rungs, she sprung alive with action, her feet kicking as pallid hands reached out to her dust-ridden clothes. Slapping away hands before they could get a grip, dust rained down as she climbed to the edge to follow my lead. Spreading herself thin, she scrambled to the roof.
I turned away as soon as I knew she was out of their reach. Pulling at the aluminium, yanking hard from their grip.
Hands reached high and I pulled. Alex’s plaster-coated hands joined mine and together we swatted clawed fingers before the ladder clattered to the roof as we let go.
Our breath took time to settle and we lay with our backs to the felt, staring skyward, cursing each deep pull that drew in the foul smell.
Alex rose first and pulled up the ladder from the roof.
“I’m sorry. I should have told you what I was doing. It was stupid,” she said as I got to my feet, careful to rest each where I knew the beams ran beneath.
I shrugged and spoke with my voice low.
“Let’s work as a team. But it wasn’t that stupid. At least we got the ladder.”
Nodding for a moment, her movement stopped as her glance fixed down the hole. I followed her look, my gaze ignoring the bloodied creatures still clawing towards the opening, instead fixing on the shape of the gun frosted in a white dusting.
I let out a deep breath before I spoke.
“We need to be careful.”
“I’m sorry,” she said and I turned away.
Alex joined me and together we held a side of the ladder each, carefully lowering across the gap to the next flat roof. Our grips held until the angle grew too great, its length too far for us to do anything but hold back the fall and guide the drop with a hope it would reach the other side.
It did, but only just, the width of the top rung barely at the edge.
Hands clawed to the air. Bloody fingertips scraped and tapped at the metal. We had to race. We had to get across before something tall, something with long arms came along and grabbed a leg or tipped our bridge as we clambered over.
“I’ll go first,” I said, looking to Alex.
I slipped on the first touch. Falling forward, I watched the river of upturned foul faces, their outstretched clawed fingers racing toward me as I descended.
72
Despite her efforts, she couldn’t catch me. Couldn’t stop my fall as I raced down face first to the rungs.
I collapsed to the metal, my hands grabbing a hold either side, gripping hard. The sting of the skin on my arm tightening as I took the weight.
The two halves of the ladder clattered against each other, the metal jumping before snapping back.
I held firm, waiting for the ladder to turn and twist and fall into the crowd who would frenzy over my body, pulling flesh from my bones.
The ladder stayed put, despite the claw of nails down my face as it felt as if hundreds of fingers willed me to the ground.
“Go,” came Alex’s voice from my back.
I shot a look behind to see her kneeling, her weight on the edge of the ladder, holding it firm.
I pushed up with my arms outstretched, the tips of my feet on top of the rungs and surged forward, giving full respect to the ladder as it stayed in place. With my feet slipping against the metal, I recovered over and again until I found the rough purchase of the solid roof the other side.
Turning before I calmed, fear rained down as I worried for the strength of the wood underneath my feet. It hadn’t collapsed yet and held my ground, watching as Alex followed on her hands and knees to scamper to where I stood.
As the ladder slipped with her last step, falling until I bounded over, forgetting my fears, I skidded to my knees and felt the sting of skin coming loose, but I had the cold metal in my hand and stopped the fall.
Alex helped me to pull it free from the tangle of hands and arms and heads slapping it side to side.
She helped me to my feet. She helped lift the ladder, settling it down to the roof. Together we peered back to the wreck of the roof we’d left behind, the felt ripped away with two great holes where there hadn’t been before.
I pushed away the guilt at what we’d done to someone’s house, knowing we had to save our lives and turned my back to survey the next challenge.
The pitch wasn’t too steep. If we could get onto the roof, it was shallow enough for us to climb with probable ease and little fear of slipping down, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out how the hell we could rest the ladder on the angle.
At least we had time. At least we were safe for now. I turned on the spot, Alex mirroring my search for inspirat
ion. With a shake of her head, I knew she’d come up as empty of suggestions as I had.
I looked to the windows just above our heads and saw the single panes of glass in the main house of the extension roof we stood on. I looked to Alex, annoying myself for seeking confirmation as I quickly turned away, but not soon enough to see her raised eyebrow.
Nodding, she came around me, opening the stepladder and setting it underneath the nearest window. I rose, squinting to the darkness inside.
A double bed sat in the centre with the quilt ruffled, the sheet cast half off. I could see a mattress. I could see a dark, abstract pattern on the white. I saw the near-naked man sitting cross-legged on the bed, his gaze fixed at me through the window.
I stumbled down a rung of the ladder, breath rasping and body shaking but already disbelieving what I’d seen; questioning if the man who’d rested on the bed really had blood trailing from his mouth to matt down his front. Already asking myself if those two shapes beside him, covered in a dark blanket, were just folds on the duvet. Wondering if my look to the carpet as I’d instinctively dropped had actually seen the great inkblot, or the bleached white bones piled in its centre.
As if from a remote location, Alex asked what I saw to make me draw back. She asked if I was okay when I didn’t reply.
Instead, I looked up as a bloodied face appeared at the window, its forehead surging toward the thin layer of glass and our only protection.
73
The scream came next, sending daggers across our senses. A shrill call in tune with the outward spray of glass.
I stumbled back, pulling the ladder with me as I lunged for safety. Still, I fell.
Alex caught my weight and together we collapsed to the roof, the cold metal following.
With no chance to recover from the shock or to be thankful the roof held in place, I peered up through the rungs while I pushed the ladder from my chest. Willing my ears to close off from the pain of the shrill call, I fixed on the window as the creature burst out in a blur, sending the remaining shards in its wake.
