by Luke Duffy
She nodded and began to crawl towards the rear, squirming her way through the hunched bodies around her as they lay staring at the blackness or drifting in and out of consciousness.
“What’s happening with that ‘Stan’ bloke?” Frank asked. “Any news?”
“He’s working on it.”
Frank nodded and let out a grunt. He reached behind him and snapped his fingers, summoning his dog from the darkness. She skulked towards him, a faint whine coming from her as she pushed her head into his chest and climbed across his lap. She curled herself into a tight ball, nestled against her master, and savouring his warmth and closeness.
“She seems like a good ‘un,” Charlie smiled as he reached out and patted Jeff’s head.
She looked up and rubbed her snout against his fingers before angling her head so that he could scratch behind her ears.
“She’s the best there is,” Frank replied with confidence and then lowering his head to give her a reassuring and loving kiss. She pushed her head against his beard as her wagging tail smacked against his thigh. “The best dog in the world, aren’t you, Jeff?”
“Only one of the dogs from the base made it from what I was told. I think it’s with Bull in the lead vehicle. Maybe they’ll become friends?”
“Maybe. She’s saved my life more times than I can count. She’s my best friend. We had it good in the city, but like always it couldn’t last forever. Just a shame we got stuck in this fucking mess. Wankers.”
“Who?”
“Them out there. They’re all wankers. The world’s full of them, even before they all started eating each other. Didn’t you know that?”
Charlie let out a quiet laugh and nodded his head vigorously. He understood where Frank was coming from and had felt very much the same way on occasion. He had witnessed the world change dramatically in the years leading up to the plague, and he had never liked what he saw. Society seemed determined to weaken and eventually destroy itself. ‘Wankers’, he believed, was a good word to describe them, dead or alive. He stretched forward and ruffled the fair around Jeff’s neck, relishing her warmth.
“What time is it, anyway?” Frank asked with interest.
“Why? You got somewhere you need to be?”
Charlie pulled back the cuff of his jacket and pressed in the button on the side of his watch. It glowed green, faintly lighting his features from beneath and making him look like a low budget attempt at an alien in a cheap science-fiction movie.
“It’s just coming up to…”
He stopped and stared at his watch, lifting it closer to his eyes and having to press the button again as the light faded. He gasped and then looked up at Frank before turning towards the window behind him.
“What?”
Charlie jumped up from the floor without any consideration for the noise he was making as his feet scuffed and thudded. He flung the blanket from his shoulders, and ignoring the ache and creak of his cold bones and the stabbing pain he felt shooting up along his spine, he scrambled across the seats, exposing himself to any eyes that were outside as he thrust his head and shoulders through the empty frame of the window.
“What are you doing, you lunatic? Get down,” Frank snarled after him, reaching out and grasping him by his boots in an attempt to pull him back.
The sudden activity and noise was already gaining the attention of some of the survivors inside. They twisted and sat up, gasping with horror and uttering their demands for Charlie to get away from the window. More and more people were taking note, and a sense of panic was quickly beginning to spread throughout.
“Get the fuck down,” Frank demanded again as he began climbing over the seats and gripped Charlie by the straps of his assault vest.
Charlie shrugged him off, refusing to be moved away from the window and leaning further out as though attempting to jump from the vehicle. Frank could do nothing but look on in shock as the man had clearly gone insane or lost all powers of reason and logic due to the cold. He looked around, hoping that someone was coming to help. No one moved, but remained seated and staring at the dark figure that was hanging out through the window, grunting and wriggling.
“Tina,” Frank whispered loudly. “Get Tina. That man’s gone fucking mental. He’ll get us all killed.”
As the message was hurriedly passed back through the bus, Charlie began to squirm his way back in through the window. He was holding something in his hand, but in the darkness it was impossible for Frank to see what it was. He stood staring back at the man and wondering what was going through his mind when a light that was far too bright for the comfort of his eyes burst out from within the dark silhouette of Charlie. Frank winced and shielded his face, turning away and cursing the man for being so reckless. The civilians gasped and whimpered, afraid that the dead would see the light and launch a renewed assault against the vehicle.
“Turn it off,” Frank growled angrily as he lunged towards Charlie. “Turn the fucking thing off.”
Charlie leaned away from him, dodging Frank’s attempt at snatching the torch from his grasp. He held up the light and thrust his other hand forward.
“Look,” he said, sounding more joyful than he should have done in such conditions. He shone his light into his palm so that Frank could see. “Look.”
Frank stopped and stared at the man’s hand. At first he thought it was some kind of powder, the crystals glinting in the light like tiny diamonds. Then he realised that what he was looking at was actually frozen water, frost. In that moment, he noticed that there was not a sound coming from the dead that were gathered outside of the windows. Charlie appearing in the way he had done should have riled them up into a frenzy, but there were no moans and no thuds as the infected began a fresh offensive against the sides of the vehicle.
“They’re frozen,” Charlie gasped with a grin and pointing towards his watch. “It’s minus two degrees, and the bastards are frozen solid.”
Frank had to take a look for himself. For hours they had hidden themselves away, refusing to look upon the landscape of horror and despair beyond the windows. All the while the temperature had been steadily headed towards zero and beyond, leaving the crowds of walking dead to become encased in ice. Without the ability to produce body heat they had no chance against the cold and now stood there like a sea of grotesque statues, unable to move or make a sound.
“Sweet fucking Jesus,” he groaned as he surveyed the scene.
Tina needed to be sure. She would not allow anyone else to risk their lives and chose to be the first to step down from the bus. With the barricades dismantled she stood by the door and glanced back at the people crowded around her with nervous eyes. She took in a deep breath, raised her pistol, and reached for the door.
None of the corpses that were crammed up against the vehicle moved as she exposed herself. They remained locked in place, their arms, legs, and gaping mouths frozen in their final actions before the cold had finally overwhelmed them. There were thousands of them, all staring back at Tina with unseeing eyes as she slowly made her way down towards the step, feeling her guts tighten and her legs shake.
“You sure about this?” she whispered back into the vehicle.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Charlie’s voice replied as he double checked the thermometer on his watch. “It says minus three now. They’re going nowhere.”
Tina reached out and gingerly prodded the closest body with her pistol. It did not move or make a sound. She pushed it a little harder, causing it to rock backwards slightly, and then coming to rest against the frozen corpses that were tightly packed together behind it. Again she prodded, holding the muzzle of her pistol against the creature’s forehead and thrusting much harder. It fell further back, causing more of them to tumble into one another and creating a domino effect that quickly spread and sent dozens of them crashing to the ground. The sound of their frozen bones and flesh shattering against the hard earth had a strangely comforting effect on her, and she grinned broadly as she turned to look up at the stars
. She silently thanked the Gods for the miracle that they had bestowed upon them.
“Sweet Jesus,” she uttered.
She stepped out, her feet crunching on the churned and frozen mud beneath the vehicle. She turned slowly and eyed the rotted faces around her, staring into their dark and hollow sockets and the cavernous mouths that gaped back at her. She shivered, but not from the cold. A part of her still expected them to suddenly lunge towards her, having fallen into their trap and being torn limb from limb, but nothing moved or made a sound around her. The crisp and frozen night was utterly silent despite the legion of walking dead that stood before her.
“Get hold of Stan and prepare to move. We’re getting out of here,” she ordered in a loud voice, keeping her eyes fixed upon the bodies around her. “We’ll walk out if we have to.”
25
Twenty-four hours later as dawn began to break, the dishevelled and exhausted survivors finally reached the coastline, shivering uncontrollably and hobbling on shaking legs. The weather had continued to worsen throughout the day, with snow falling on the higher ground and the roads becoming almost impassable as their already treacherous surfaces became covered with ice.
The bus had all but given up shortly after being pulled free of the mud and hauled out from the swarms of dead that surrounded it. The mechanics managed to get it started, but within ten kilometres it died completely as it coughed its final sputter, and the engine seized up forever. As the landscape around them steadily turned white with frost and snow, the chances of surviving in the open and walking the rest of the way became less of a possibility. The only solution was to tow the vehicle, tying it to the two SUVs and slowly pulling it along the roads like a sled as they passed by corpses that were scattered along the route, lining the roads and frozen to the ground like macabre scarecrows.
It was a struggle, and the drivers needed to negotiate the debris littered roads that were overgrown with foliage and vines and crammed with rusted vehicles. The ice that formed on the surfaces added to the danger and the frustrations of the survivors. On numerous occasions the wheels slipped, causing the heavy and virtually immobile bus to veer from the road, leaving it stranded and needing to be recovered from the ditches or verges that lined the route. The steep mountain passes had been even more of a challenge with the SUVs all but burning out their engines as they toiled against the hills and the elements while hauling the dead weight of the bus. Nevertheless they persevered, and eventually, with almost all of their fuel gone and the SUVs ready to be declared as nothing more than crumbling piles of scrap, they reached the small costal village.
The survivors disembarked from the bus as Stan declared that the final few kilometres were too dangerous for the large vehicle to stand a chance of making it through. The roads were narrow with tight bends and sheer drops leading down into the estuary. He was certain that the hard journey would end in a cruel tragedy if they attempted to drag the unwieldy bus all the way to the beach. The survivors grumbled but did as they were ordered, wrapping themselves in whatever they could and trundling towards the sea in a long line that reminded some of the veterans of video footage they had seen from the Second World War.
“Look at them; they look like the last survivors of the sixth army at Stalingrad,” Bull had remarked as he watched the human scarecrows descend from the hill and stagger towards the sea.
“Aye,” Taff nodded. “And now we’re about to re-enact Dunkirk.”
Nadia Neptune, the old trawler, was already there waiting for them. She was as reliable as always, and Taff smiled with pride and affection as he started up the engine. They wasted no time in loading her up with the first group of survivors and heading out to sea, and for a number of hours the shuttle runs continued. The children and wounded were the first to go, followed by the women and the old. The trawler could not fit more than twenty people at a time, and even that was pushing it to its limits as far as Taff was concerned. Regardless, the number of people left on the mainland steadily dwindled with each trip and their leaders, such as Tina and Al, began to feel that they could finally begin to dream and hope again, knowing that they had made it to safety.
“You think it’ll be okay now?” Tina asked as she looked out towards the fishing boat while it pulled away from the pier and left with the final group of civilian survivors for the ferry.
All that remained behind now was a small handful of men and women with barely enough ammunition to fill one magazine each. They had pushed out to form a perimeter around the beachhead, forming a line of defence while the evacuation got underway. The dead were frozen solid, but they could never be too careful. The sun was now up, and if the temperature was to suddenly rise, the circumstances could quickly change.
She looked back at the two smoking and battered vehicles. The SUVs had been dumped unceremoniously to the side of the path leading away from the beach. Already they appeared to be sinking into the sand as though aware that their lives were over and now it was time for their long and final rest. They would remain there until they had completely rotted away and became swallowed up by sand over time.
“We’ll just have to see,” Al replied and looked back over his shoulder to check on Tommy. “We’ve made it this far. We just have to hope that Paul gets the engines going now.”
Tina could see that at that moment Al could care less about what happened once they made it across to the ferry. His thoughts were on Tommy.
“Go to him, Al,” Tina said as she watched him intently and saw the hurt that he was experiencing. “I’ve said my goodbyes to him, and now you should go and spend some time with him. He’d want that.”
Al nodded. Everything that needed to be done had been done. The civilians were safe, and the last of them were on their way across to the ship. Tina was there to control the final withdrawal of the militia cordon, and there was no need for him to stay close at that moment.
He walked away and headed towards the area where Tommy was sitting propped up against the information centre, wrapped in a blanket, and shivering from the fever. The sun was up, and the sky was as clear as he had ever seen. Tommy sat soaking in its rays and feeling them warm his cold, clammy skin and his aching bones. He had refused to be placed on the boat and be transported across to the ship. Al had insisted, but Tommy would not yield, stubbornly digging in his heels and pointing out that it would be a waste of time and effort. He knew that he had little time left, and he did not want to waste it or allow himself to be a burden to the others.
“Hey,” Tommy groaned, smiling like a drunk when he sensed Al’s huge shadow momentarily block the sun as he approached. “We made it, didn’t we? We beat those things and everything that was thrown at us. We frigging made it.”
“Yeah, we made it. We kicked their arses, mate.”
Al sat down beside him and watched the boat as it grew smaller, steadily making its way over the unnaturally calm waters of the Irish Sea. It had taken them a while to ferry all the survivors across, the trawler having to make multiple time-consuming crossings, but for once time was on their side. The temperature remained below the zero mark and showed no signs of rising, and Charlie was always somewhere close by informing every one of the information displayed on his watch while sounding like a town crier making his announcements.
The beach was now virtually empty. Gone were the clusters of half frozen civilians and whining children, leaving a surreal calm to settle over the area with almost no sound except for the gentle lapping of the water against the shore and the occasional screech of a gull. It was peaceful and something that neither of them had experienced in many years. They sat there for a while, soaking in the scene, and revelling in the sun’s warmth.
“You look after them,” Tommy slurred as he finally broke the silence. His head swayed as he tried to focus his eyes upon Al in an attempt to emphasise his point. “Promise me that, will you? You’ll look after them and keep them safe?”
“Yeah, I’ll look after them,” Al croaked, knowing that the end of their friendshi
p was gradually approaching.
He watched Tommy and saw his life-force slowly ebbing away from him. His face was ashen and drawn, with his lips already receding and his cheekbones protruding from beneath his sunken eye-sockets. The veins in his neck were raised and black, showing the devastating infection as it crept towards his brain. Al felt a lump begin to form in his throat as his vision blurred with tears and his head began to spin. He knew that they were fast approaching the time when he would need to say goodbye to his friend, but losing Tommy was tearing him apart, destroying him from the inside, and he did not yet feel ready to let go of him.
They had been the best of friends for many years, fighting side by side and always overcoming the odds that were greatly stacked against them. Losing him now when they were so close to safety was a harsh and cruel twist of fate, and he cursed the Gods for their lack of compassion and mercy. Tommy deserved so much more than to die now. He had earned the chance at a long and peaceful life. A life with the possibility of happiness and fulfilment. Instead, he would die here on this beach long before his time should have been due.
“And do me a big favour,” Tommy said as he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. His naturally twisted face broke into a strained smile.
“Sure, what is it?”
“Give Thunder-Knickers what she needs.”
Al frowned and turned to look at the area where Tina was standing beside Charlie. He looked back at his friend, unsure of his meaning.
“What she needs?”
Tommy’s eyes had all but sunken deep into his head, but they now glared back at Al from within their dark caverns. He grinned maliciously, a sparkle of light twinkling from his fevered eyes.
“Don’t play dumb. You know what I’m talking about, Al. It’s always been there between you two, but neither of you ever had the balls to do anything about it.”
“Ah…”
“Do it, and make each other happy, you silly, stubborn cunt.”
