by RR Haywood
She stares at it as it stares back at her. She goes to speak, to say something, to tell him off for being a dirty sod but she just felt the same thing so that makes it natural, normal, it makes it okay. He didn’t grope her either. He didn’t try and poke it in her, he isn’t doing anything now either but looking at her looking at him without any shred of threat or malice in him. She even smiles, feeling a strange reaction to knowing he just got turned on by her naked form.
‘Heather? Are you decent?’ A knock at the door. Paula calling out.
‘No!’ Heather shouts, jolting guiltily. ‘Er…hang on…’ She pulls a face at him and looks round, spotting the fluffy white towels hanging neatly from the towel heater that will probably never get hot again. She turns the shower off and hops out, almost sliding across the wet floor to crash into the side unit, sending ceramic pots flying from the top that fall to the ground.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Fine!’ Heather shouts back, grabbing a towel before skating back towards the bathtub. She stops in front of him, knowing she needs to wrap the towel round his waist but wondering how to do it while that thing is poking out. Does it go down or up? It doesn’t look like it goes down, not when it’s that big. It must go up. She loops the towel round his backside and pulls the ends round in front of him. ‘Tuck it in,’ she whispers at him. ‘Paco…tuck it in…I’m not touching it…’
Paco doesn’t tuck it in.
She tucks it in. Huffing and trying to give him a look but bursting out laughing while she does it. She holds it up against his body while wrapping the towel round to secure off. ‘You can stop grinning like that too,’ she tells him.
‘Coming,’ she skates back across the floor to the door, pulling it open to look at Paula. ‘Hey…’
‘Oh right,’ Paula says, turning her head away.
‘Oh shit,’ Heather yelps, realising she is still naked. ‘Hang on…’
‘It’s fine,’ Paula says. ‘Got some cream that’s all.’
‘Cream?’ Heather asks, sliding to grab another towel that she pulls round herself.
‘Doctors gave it to Roy yesterday for cuts and…well, Roy’s got it in his head that we might be immune to that infection but there’s other things that can hurt us.’
‘Oh…’ Heather says, now covered and glancing back at Paco still grinning from the bathtub.
‘Can I come in?’
‘Er…yeah, I guess…’
‘Thanks,’ Paula says, stepping through with only a cursory glance at the now filthy bathroom and an even more cursory glance at Paco grinning at something in the bath. ‘Er, listen…’
‘I don’t like people,’ Heather blurts. The flush from being turned on is still there, the heat in her face and the sensation at being washed and massaged all serve to imbue a sudden ability to say those few words.
‘That’s fine,’ Paula says easily. ‘Nor does Howie most of the time…and come to think about it, nor do I that much…actually…I think that might be a recurring trait. No…Marcy is good with people, Charlie too. Roy isn’t. Clarence is. Reginald isn’t…the lads are…depending on who it is of course, otherwise they’re evil shits…’
‘I…I mean I can’t handle…’ Heather swallows, the sensation of pressure starting to return. ‘I don’t like it…I mean I can’t deal with people asking questions and…’
‘Questions?’ Paula asks. ‘You’re immune, Heather. Paco is too or something else probably…’
‘Not that,’ Heather says, frustrated at feeling herself clamming up again. ‘I mean…like…’
‘Like what?’
‘Just…like…when people ask where you’re from and…family…I can’t…and when more than one person looks at me. I can’t…I’m sorry…we’ll go…’
‘Slow down,’ Paula says. ‘We’re not like that.’
‘I can’t. I just…we’ll go. We’ll have to go…that man with the glasses can ask about me and Paco…about what happened but then we’ll go.’
‘I was almost raped…’ Paula says so matter of fact it catches Heather off guard.
‘What?’
‘I said I was almost raped…no, I was raped. First day it happened. The outbreak I mean. I was in the office working late. One of my male colleagues came back drunk and told me what was happening outside. He raped me.’
‘Oh shit,’ Heather says, seeing the dark look on Paula’s face.
‘I killed him,’ Paula says. ‘Then I killed every single one of the infected in my town…every man woman and child including my mother.’
Heather stares, listening closely as Paula talks so matter of fact about something so awful.
‘I swore that I would never be near anyone ever again and I was fine with that. I could look after myself. I met Roy then this lot…Howie and the others I mean. Not all of them, some joined a bit later…but you know, not one of them have asked about my life before this and I don’t ask them. We talk and sometimes things come out. Like I know Mo came from a bad estate and had a shit upbringing but I don’t know the details. I don’t know if any of them have brothers or sisters. I don’t know what happened to their parents or families and they don’t ask me. Like I said, things come out here and there but…it’s too fresh, too soon and we’re too busy to be completely honest. I saw my mother the day before it all happened. Then I saw her after. She’d turned. I didn’t see her when I killed them but I knew she must have been there. Point is, the reason we’re all together is because we’ve got nothing to go back for, no one to find or help. We’ve got each other and that’s it and you know what? After everything I went through and swearing I wouldn’t trust another human ever again? I wouldn’t be anywhere else other than here with this lot and add to that we’re probably all immune…’ She trails off, exhaling into the silence with a flurry of thoughts rushing through her mind. ‘Talk to Howie…give him a chance.’
‘Howie?’
Paula nods, ‘you’ll see what I mean, just talk to him for a bit. They won’t ask questions about anything. I promise you and if they knew, or even thought for a second they made you uncomfortable by looking at you they wouldn’t do it. You’re new. You’re immune. You might be one of us so…’
‘One of you? I’m not one of you.’
‘No? Thirty nine was it? Over fifty during the night?’
‘Paco killed most of them.’
‘Still did it. Still walked away from it…no one else does. We do. We took on ten thousand that night in the square and walked away from it.’
‘I’m not one of you.’
‘Okay, that’s fine. Just give us a bit of time…you can leave whenever you want but remember, those men that came down to the summer house were the ones that tried to save Paco and Meredith. They fought by his side. Right next to him.’
Heather stays silent, watching the woman talk. There’s something comforting about Paula. The relaxed manner, the concern in her eyes and tone of voice that make it seem she really cares.
‘Cream,’ Paula says, lifting the tube up. ‘You got bites on your back…want me to do it?’
‘Er…’
‘Ah,’ Paula says, smiling gently. ‘It’s just cream, Heather. Can Paco do it?’
‘He’ll probably try and eat it.’
Paula chuckles, smiling at Paco still grinning in the bath. ‘What’s he grinning for?’ She asks as Heather glances down with a wry smile and a blush spreading across her cheeks. ‘Go on, turn round. I’ll put the cream on then you can do Paco.’ Heather turns, easing the towel down a few inches to expose her back. ‘So, he doesn’t speak then?’ Paula asks, squeezing a dollop onto her fingertips. ‘Might be a bit cold, okay?’
‘It’s fine,’ Heather says, facing towards Paco watching closely as another person touches Heather. ‘He didn’t at first…he couldn’t do anything at first…but he’s healing and…getting more intelligent every day. I can see it in his eyes. He gets frustrated that he can’t make me understand what he wants.’
‘Like most men,’ Paula
mutters. ‘It’s good that he’s got you,’ Paula says, rubbing the cream into the broken skin round the big bite on Heather’s shoulder.
‘He saved me.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Well, he tried to eat me then saved me.’
‘Did he?’
‘I got trapped at the top of a building. Paco found me first but then more came in. That was it. I was dead…but Paco attacked them instead of me. I ran…he found me then just followed me everywhere.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Then we just stayed together.’
‘He can fight then?’
‘God yes, never seen anything like it. Maybe you have but I haven’t…he never gets tired, he doesn’t feel pain and his strength is just…I can’t explain it but…he can pick big men up and throw them like nothing but then he’s so gentle with me. Like the way he touches me? So gentle…like he’s afraid of hurting me. He snaps bones like they’re twigs but when he looks at me it’s like…I can’t explain it…he’s changed so much and he carried me one day. I jumped on his back playing and…and he can play too. He laughs sometimes, not like we laugh but you can see when he finds something funny. And he’s naughty, like mischievous? Like that. Like he refuses to do things sometimes to make me do them for him…’ The words rush out in one solid stream of explanation from days spent watching him but being unable to talk to anyone else about it. ‘And he carried Amna and let them poke him in the face. I didn’t see that happen and I’d told the children not to touch him but they did and he was as gentle with them as he was with me but when he saw you in the square he got so weird…that’s when he first spoke…he said dog and girl…’ She trails off as if suddenly aware of speaking too much. A silence settles, awkward and heavy.
‘Sorry,’ Heather mumbles, withdrawing instantly.
‘Don’t be,’ Paula says, trying not to think of Clarence while easing Heather’s towel down a bit to reach a bite on her ribs and tutting at the sheer number of them. ‘Like bloody Howie…’
‘What is?’ Heather asks.
‘All these bites. He gets bitten more than anyone else…I swear he just shoves his body in their mouths when they attack him.’
‘Who is that other woman?’
‘Which one? Marcy?’
‘Yeah, she’s so beautiful,’ Heather says quietly, turning to look at Paula then blinking as though realising she just made eye contact with another human being and looking away quickly.
‘She is. She adores Howie too. Never seen someone more in love…until now,’ she adds with a glance at Paco. ‘She was infected but turned back…’
‘They said,’ Heather says, realising she is having a conversation with someone else after just having a shower with someone else. The world is weird.
‘She sort of kept her mind when she was…infected or turned or whatever it is. Like a super zombie or something. Could speak, think…she turned hundreds…maybe more…’
‘She killed them?’
‘I guess,’ Paula says, working on the next bite. ‘But she was infected. The infection did it…not her. She turned Reggie but he kept his mind too, although it was Marcy that controlled him…until it wore off or they healed…I don’t know but yes, there’s two people with a worse history than all the rest of us together and we love them as much as the others…so we can’t be that bad.’
‘How did…I mean…if Marcy did that…why didn’t they kill her?’
‘We’re all linked,’ Paula says, wondering how far she should go in telling Heather while knowing they need Heather and Paco to stay with them for a while. ‘The infection has a hive mind…that’s how it controls all the people it turns. Like a collective consciousness or something. We’ve got that.’
‘What?’ Heather asks sharply, turning to look at Paula.
‘We’ve got a hive mind,’ Paula says simply. ‘Not all the time…we can’t read each other’s thoughts or anything like that but…when Howie gets in a certain way we sort of…connect? It’s only happened a couple of times.’
‘Shit,’ Heather mutters.
‘And they’re scared of Howie.’
‘Who are?’
‘The zombie things…they’re scared of him. We’ve all seen it…they still attack but you can see it happen sometimes.’
‘Why?’
‘We don’t know. We don’t know anything. We don’t know what you are either or Paco…but we’ve got Reggie,’ she adds with a smile. ‘All done on your back. I’ll leave it with you…’
‘Paula? You in there?’ Marcy calls from outside.
‘Yep.’
‘Got clothes for Heather…Clarence has given a top and trousers for Paco and we found some underwear here, hopefully it’ll fit.’
‘Okay if Marcy comes in?’ Paula asks.
‘Er yeah, yeah I guess so,’ Heather says, looking back to see Marcy leaning through the door before coming in.
‘Oh you look much better. Did you get the cream?’
Heather lifts it up, looking at Marcy now knowing what Paula told her. She’s never seen someone so perfect in appearance. Like someone from a movie. Heather glances at Paco with a sudden stab of jealousy but his eyes remain fixed staring back at her, tracking her every move. She looks at Marcy quickly who smiles as though she didn’t see that look just happen. There’s no trace on the woman. No red eyes, nothing.
‘Hopefully they’ll fit,’ Marcy says, holding up the clothes. ‘Went for black stuff…that okay? It hides the dirt and black is always flattering…not that you need flattering,’ she adds with the expertise of someone highly skilled in the art of making casual conversation. ‘Need anything else? Oh, hair bands…’ she says, pulling a few from her wrist. ‘Er…well, shout if you need anything. We’re downstairs,’ she adds, placing a hand on Paula’s arm.
‘I’ll come down, see you in a minute?’ Paula asks, moving towards the door.
‘Yeah, minute…’
Seven
A sea of corpses from the house to the vehicles now brought down the driveway. An assault rifle rests across the crook of his arms. His feet planted. His eyes watching. A cigarette between his fingers on his left hand.
‘Marine,’ Clarence says, nodding as he stops at Blowers side.
‘Para,’ Blowers says, nodding back. ‘Do you say para or something else?’
‘Airborne sky gods? Maroon machine? World’s best regiment? Any of those will do.’
‘What was that song?’ Blowers asks, pretending to be thinking.
‘Oh here it is,’ Clarence says, chuckling in his deep voice.
‘Can’t remember how it goes now…oh I got it…para para in the sky living proof shit can fly…’ Blowers says, taking a big step away with a grin.
Clarence rolls his eyes, pulls a face and plants his feet to rest his assault rifle across the crook of his arms. ‘Marine marine in a boat…living proof shit can float…’
‘Buttfucker,’ Cookey says, strolling over to plant his feet and rest his assault rifle across the crook of his arms.
‘He just called you a buttfucker,’ Blowers whispers at Clarence, nodding at Cookey.
‘I didn’t,’ Cookey says, lighting his cigarette. ‘I called you a buttfucker…buttfucker…’
‘Who is?’ Blinky asks, planting her feet to rest her rifle across the crook of her elbows.
‘Blowers,’ Cookey says.
‘Fact,’ Blinky says.
‘What is?’ Nick asks, going through the same as he lights a smoke.
‘Blowers is a buttfucker,’ Cookey explains.
‘Ah,’ Nick says, exhaling his smoke. ‘Fact.’ He adds, staring hard at Maddox who walks over but doesn’t plant his feet or rest his rifle across the crook of his elbows.
‘So what’s happening now?’ Cookey asks after a few seconds of silence.
‘No idea,’ Nick says, looking at Clarence.
‘Same,’ the big man says, shrugging casually which is still a monumental movement of bones, muscles and sinew lifting to plummet back
down.
‘Can’t believe she said spastic,’ Nick says, chuckling at the thought.
‘Fucking funny,’ Cookey says.
‘Can’t believe you sprayed your coffee on Nick,’ Blowers says.
‘Can’t believe it’s not butter,’ Cookey says.
‘Can’t believe you’re so ugly,’ Blowers says.
‘Can’t believe you put that penis in your pocket yesterday.’
‘Can’t believe you…’ Blowers pauses, thinking hard. ‘Nah I’m out.’
‘Already?’ Cookey asks, disappointed. ‘Blinky?’
‘Fist me.’
‘Okay, Nick? You got one?’
‘One what?’
‘One I can’t believe.’
‘I can’t believe you just asked me.’
‘Ah, good one…I can’t believe…’
‘So is that Paco Maguire?’ Blinky asks, cutting across Cookey.
‘You serious?’ Blowers asks.
‘Yeah. Is it then?’
‘Fuck me, Blinky.’
‘I don’t do cocks.’
‘Yes, it’s Paco Maguire.’
‘Oh. He’s famous.’
‘Yeah?’ Cookey asks.
‘He’s famous as fuck…’
Maddox hides the irritation at the mindless conversation and watches the front of the house closely.
Inside Roy’s van, Reginald shakes his head as the conversation outside rolls forever and always gently on. It’s comforting though, in a strange way. Knowing they are there. Knowing that nothing can get through them, even if all they talk about is bottoms, genitals and faeces.
New things have happened that impact on the never-ending thoughts in his mind. He opens his bag, finds his notepad and spreads it open on the desk to read over his last entry.
Minutes pass with his mind absorbed from the soothing background noise of the mindless banter outside. His pen scribbles. Notes and observations. Connections made. Strengths of arguments increasing as other weaken. Objective, subjective and conjecture. Fact, opinion and guesses. He frowns, pauses frequently then scribbles on with the pen scratching over the paper.
He stops writing, reads it back and clicks the pen. Safety off. He smiles again and even adds a little chuckle at his new joke that he really rather likes. The others have all got big heavy guns they can click and make noises with. He has a pen. It also clicks. He clicks it again, feeling the tool vibrate within his hand. He clicks it off then back on. His eyes narrow, his jaw sets. He clicks the pen on and nods manfully as though staring down the enemy that all quake in fear at his mighty penmanship before fleeing in all directions.
