The Undead Day Twenty

by RR Haywood

  ‘You’ll not be kneeling there now, Miss,’ Peter says quietly, resting a hand on Lilly’s shoulder. She rises smoothly to step back as he takes her place, handed an assault rifle by one of his men.

  Peter looks left and right up and down the line. ‘Ladies, maybe you’ll be going back to your fort.’

  ‘And maybe we shall stay right here,’ Joan says, arching an eyebrow.

  ‘Soldier boy,’ Peter says, lifting his rifle into his shoulder. ‘You’ll be marking the distance now.’

  ‘Roger that…’ Gary says, rolling his eyes. They get closer. So many of them and sickening in the way they run so perfectly together. The sound reaches them. The crunch of feet hitting the road together. Like a drumbeat that grows. They spread out wider across the road but maintain perfect form. Hearts beat harder. Hands tremble. Nerves fray. Voices in heads tell them to go, to run and never look back.

  ‘HOLD,’ Gary shouts, sensing the fear rippling down the line. He holds another few seconds. ‘TAKE AIM…’ weapons lift. Some shake from the hands holding them. A ripple of motion from the line extending across the road. Less than twenty against hundreds. ‘Ready, Lilly.’

  ‘FIRE,’ Lilly shouts.

  That small line fires. A booming crescendo of noise that makes every person on the shore spin round to stare in abject terror.

  Infected drop. They drop to get trampled and lost from view as that thick snake keeps charging towards them. The weapons fire. Assault rifles. Single shot bolt action rifles, shotguns, pistols and old army issued weapons stolen, pilfered and bought over the years. The sound is immense. The smell of cordite and shot hanging in the air. Ears ring. Shoulders recoil. Infected drop time and again. Lilly fires with them. Single shots but taken fast. Her finger plucking the trigger again and again. They kill many. They see it happen but it seems to make no difference. Every infected that drops is instantly replaced.

  ‘KEEP GOING,’ Kyle’s voice booms, the power of him resonates as he stands taller, glowering with energy.

  Magazines are changed. Bolts yanked back. They fire weapons as fast as they can. Joan gets headshots. Bursting skulls apart one after the other. Pea fires into the mass. Her senses deafened and gone. There is just here. There is just this moment now. Sam changes magazines, knocking the old one out to ram the new one in. She glances at Pea then faces back to do what must be done.

  The boats load on the beach to carry the people away to the fort. The drivers fight and argue to stop the people clamouring to get in for fear of capsizing. Shouts sound out. Angry scared people desperate to find safety while the guns fire and the infected charge.

  They fire faster. Gary, Joan and some of the men give burst fire from weapons to fell as many as they can. Pea keeps single shots but goes as fast. Sam spits to the side to clear the shit from her mouth.

  ‘FASTER NOW,’ Kyle thunders. Pacing up and down behind them. ‘FIRE QUICKLY…’

  ‘We’re trying, Father,’ the man with the Stengun says, the vicious weapon booming louder than all the rest.

  Too close now. Too many and no sign of their numbers reducing. ‘We have to dress back,’ Gary shouts, twisting to get Lilly’s attention.

  ‘DO IT…BACK…GO BACK,’ Lilly shouts. The line rises, staggered and broken to slowly start easing back. Peter glances to the van then forward to the horde and that awful synchronised running. They still get kills and the ones they don’t kill still fall to be trampled underfoot but that sight is worst of all. The merciless nature of the beasts coming at them. The sheer disregard for their fallen kind. The hunger they project. They start screeching too. High pitched and primeval. A solid wall of noise that tightens the balls of fear in the guts of those few. Screams from the beach come back. People running into the sea to try and swim instead of waiting for the boats. Others sob and fall to knees to weep in terror.

  ‘BACK…’ Lilly changes magazine, ditching the used one to push the new one in. They fall back slowly towards the van. Peter glances again, his face a mask of aggression as he gauges distance.

  ‘GO BACK NOW,’ he shouts at Lilly then turns to Sam and Pea. ‘GO BACK…TO THE BEACH WITH YOU…FOR THE LOVE OF GOD,’ Peter thunders the words out. ‘FATHER…GET THE WOMEN AWAY NOW…’

  The horde breaks uniformity to charge screaming and wild. The pure hatred clear on the fetid twisted faces rushing towards them. The fastest sprint out from the horde. Arms pumping with poise and balance but with lips pulled back showing teeth. The least human yet and another step taken from the species from which they originate.

  ‘Sam, Pea, Joan…to the beach….NOW!’ Lilly sees how it will end. She can see the numbers coming at them and knows she will stand and fight and die here. The men around her burst for the van, ditching firearms, rifles and shotguns to grab clubs, bats, sticks, swords and bladed weapons.

  Chaos on both sides of her. The beach is still too full. The first boats are on their way back. Heads in the sea as people try and swim away. The wild splashes as yet more run into the water. The heat of it. The sheer frenzied last few seconds before that impact comes. In that instance she knows truly what Nick faces and gives honour for knowing him and those he fights with. How so few hold against so many is beyond her. They can’t do that here. They don’t have Howie and in him she knows the power lies. On Howie they form. On Howie they fight.

  Something else happens though. Something of a power that is staggering to behold. Kyle walking backwards dragging Sam and Pea with him to force them away. His eyes furious and Lilly sees what the others saw in the kitchen of the golf hotel. She sees that power resonating as the man seems to grow with fire blazing in his eyes. Time slows. Everything in pin sharp clarity. Every noise. Every sight. She can feel the heat bearing down. She can see the faces of the infected and that most terrible of hunger that drives them on. She can see the wild fear fuelled aggression in the faces of the twelve strong men led by Peter who choose to hold a line that means nothing to them except for the honour of a girl who would have stood alone. She sees all of that and more. She sees Nick’s face. The tenderness in his eyes. The love he gave her that was so pure. She sees Paula smiling at her and feels the strength of Clarence when he hugged her like a father. Like her father should have done except he was weak and he failed. She will not fail. She will not allow it. As that snarl comes so she sees Kyle’s face raging as he sweeps between Sam and Pea drawing the pistols from the holsters on their hips as he goes. Those pistols rise in hands that are used to holding such things and forward he goes. Striding with glory and righteous power.

  ‘BACK YE HEATHENS…’ The voice rolls. The voice booms above all else. The man grows and fires the left then the right. In that instant she tracks the line of the bullets to the heads blowing apart from the perfectly placed shots. ‘GET BACK…STAY BACK…YE WILL NOT WIN…’ Every shot hits. Every shot counts. Lilly ditches her rifle to throw it aside. The thing is useless now. She draws the pistol to stand side on, aiming with a hand made steady by the ice running through her veins.

  ‘See me,’ she murmurs and fires. One more drops.

  ‘HEATHENS…FOUL BEASTS THAT YE ARE…’

  ‘See me...’

  ‘GO BACK TO SATAN…GO BACK WITH YE TAILS BETWEEN YOUR CLOVEN FEET…’

  ‘The Father’s a gun toting badass so he is, Peter.’

  ‘SEE ME...’

  Lilly’s arm holds rigid and each new aim is a twitch of ruthless calculation. Kyle’s arms cycle back and forward. The pistols held almost tenderly as he fires and takes the recoil into his arms with a speed that is both stunning and effortless.

  ‘BACK I TELL YE…’ he fires the left, shooting the arm forward to pluck the trigger. ‘BACK…AWAY FROM HERE…’ the right hand goes forward to fire then drops back as he goes on.

  The words he shouts become a weapon as much as the pistols in his hands. Belief grows. That’s what it is. It’s the belief to stand and hold against something you know is evil. To spite the fear inside and do the right thing for the right reasons. To hold while e
veryone else runs away. To be steady and keep your nerve. She fires with Kyle. Sending every last bullet they can before the horde impact. The sound of their feet thunders towards her. A seething broiling mass of once human form but now of clawed hands and wild red eyes that drool strands of filthy tainted saliva. Animals. Worse than animals. Unclean beasts that do not belong.

  The pressure of it. The pureness of that second. Her eyes steady and holding, knowing they see her unafraid. Without fear. She is one of Howie’s. They know this. She sees the wilt and the sudden fear in their eyes at the sight of her and the words thundered by Kyle. She smiles cold and glorious without regret and without remorse for the lives of their kind she takes.

  The horde closes in, pumped and charged despite the prickle of fear. The bullets run out. It’s done. Over. Howie will come and sweep them aside and the big gates of the fort will lock to keep her brother safe but she will die here. As the impact comes so a thick tattooed arm loops round her waist to lift her from her feet. She goes back in Peter’s arms as he twists to pass her on to the next who holds his arm around her waist to pass her back. She gets passed one to the other as the rest rush forward to brace the impact of the horde hitting. A rippling crash of meat against meat. Voices screaming loud. Men roaring as they swing weapons to cleave, hack and butcher. She fights to go back in. Screaming to be let go. Screaming as she sees Kyle with a blade in his hand gripping the hair of a woman as he slits her throat from behind. She’s thrown away. Pushed far to stagger and trip but rallies to go back in. Seeing Gary swinging a machete into the neck of one while Peter swings a sword into the head of another. She draws her knife, goes low and runs hard to rise to fight to stab to kill and feel the hot blood of her enemy on her hands.

  Outside the last house on the bay, she fights and leads those men who see a young woman with blue eyes slaying them with a speed that isn’t right to see. Lilly’s army forms. Lilly’s army is formed there at that point.

  Boudicca reborn. Joan of Arc rising to rally for there is no more a nobler cause for warriors to fight for than what she is now. On her they form. On her they fight. For her they will die. For what she is and what she means. All of them to the last is consumed by the pure emotion within them to hold and fight for her.

  As strong as they are. As fierce as their sudden devotion is. They cannot hold against so many. It cannot be done. Hundreds pour down the road. Hundreds swarming into the fray. Hundreds that screech and don’t feel pain or fatigue. They fell many. Those few kill more than they should but the pressure against them increases. The frenzied rage of those who attack beat them back towards the beach and the people still screaming in fear.

  She slices deep, scoring the blade through the flesh to let the innards fall to snag the legs of the one coming at her. She dances back and feints left but goes right to drive the point into a throat of a woman that is hacked down by a tattooed man wielding a huge meat cleaver. Blood sprays, coating her arms and body. Teeth on her leg. She grunts and stamps down, booting the thing in the face. Back she goes with the line. Slashing left and right and knowing that each body taken down is an obstacle formed for the rest to clamber over. The road becomes slick. The stench of shit and blood fills their noses. Grunts sound all around her. Fighting is hard work. She glances back, seeing the shore still too full. Seeing the boats moving as fast as they can. Just a few more minutes. They’ll come. She knows it. She can feel it. Gary goes down. Ripped from his feet to be raked deep by dirty jagged nails. One of Peter’s men goes in after him. Fighting them back as more rush to drag Gary free but the soldier knows the damage is done. With the lust of the battle in his eyes he drops his weapon, pulls a grenade, bites the pin out and runs deep into the ranks of undead with a wild scream.

  ‘DOWN,’ Lilly screams. The men turn away as the muffled whump blows metres away. Blood and body parts fly overhead. A hole formed. A sensation of pressure easing. The men flood back in to hold the line as Lilly grabs the machete dropped by Gary to swing and kill.

  ‘Go love…’ Peter hisses next to her.

  ‘They’ll come,’ she snarls, lowering for the next.

  ‘There’s too many, will you see sense now will you?’

  ‘Fight. They’ll come…’

  Eleven

  He holds the wheel with both hands. The pressure is back. The pressure to be there now. The pressure to be moving faster. The Saxon feels alive beneath him. The engine as deep and throaty as ever as she gives what she can to gain speed down the road. Past hedges they fly. The sea on one side. Glittering and inviting. Silence inside save for the vibration of the chassis.

  Through the last corner they go to gain the view ahead. Hundreds laying siege to a fight taking place next to the last house on the bay. Their house. The one Lilly saved for them. She’s in there. She’s in that fight now. They know it. They feel it.

  ‘Fishtail?’ Clarence asks, glaring at the back of the solid horde.

  ‘Yeah?’ Howie asks, gripping the wheel harder.

  ‘Fishtail,’ Clarence says.

  ‘Fishtail,’ Howie says, nodding once.

  ‘Worked before,’ Clarence says, turning to face the back. ‘FISHTAIL…’

  ‘Fishtail,’ Blowers shouts. Legs shoot out to brace on seats opposite.

  ‘Fishtail,’ Cookey shouts down to Mo and Dave.

  ‘Fishtail,’ Dave says, pushing his legs out to brace.

  Nick leans forward, wrapping his arms round the dog. Cookey loops one arm under Nick’s shoulder. Blowers the other. Marcy leans forward to brace Nick and the dog as Blinky stretches to hold Marcy and Maddox, her hand grabbing his arm. He stares round seeing everyone else bracing as though they’re about to crash. He grabs Blinky’s arm. His feet going out to push against the seat opposite.

  ‘Ready,’ Clarence says.

  ‘Give ‘em some warning…’

  ‘Roger that,’ Clarence says, taking up the microphone for the loudspeaker. He thumbs the switch and inhales. ‘COMING IN HARD…MOVE BACK MOVE BACK…COMING IN HARD…’

  ‘Fishtail,’ Howie says, straightening his arms to lock his body in place.

  ‘Fishtail,’ Clarence says, pushing his hands against the front.

  ‘FISHTAIL,’ Howie shouts, steaming towards the horde.

  ‘Fucking fishtail,’ Cookey mutters.

  ‘NOW,’ Howie says. The Saxon hits the horde. The solid metal front slamming the bodies aside and under the wheels. The horde reacts faster than ever before. Turning to fling into the arches above the tyres. Howie slams the wheel over, his foot hitting the brake to bring the big rear end out sliding sideways into the human wall. Outside they pop apart. Explosions of bodies bursting from the immense impact. Huge bangs from hard bone versus solid metal. Inside they feel the vibrations and hear the dinks and donks of the bodies popping but feel the sensation of the big vehicle spinning to slew wildly. Maddox slides off his seat. Blinky grabs him, Nick holds the dog. Everyone else holds Nick. Mo and Dave braced at the back with their hands on the door handles waiting for the motion to stop.

  ‘FISHTAILING,’ Howie shouts, seeing the world outside spinning round.

  ‘Fishtailing,’ Clarence mutters, his eyes squeezed shut until the vehicle stops moving.

  ‘Fucking fishtailing,’ Cookey mouths.

  ‘They’re fishtailing,’ Roy says, pointing ahead through the windscreen of his van. ‘We’re not doing that.’

  ‘Thank fuck,’ Paula lets the breath go.

  Roy slows his van knowing he can’t anchor the brakes on for fear of the trailer sliding out. Charlie remains low on Jess, her head buried in the horses mane. She feels the vehicle slowing and her own heart rate increasing. She rotates her wrist to make sure the axe tether is on tight.

  ‘Ready, girl?’ she whispers and hears the sounds of the Saxon slamming into the bodies. ‘They’re fishtailing,’ she tells Jess.

  A dull metallic noise outside. Light floods in. The doors open. Jess pushes out to dance into the road as Charlie rises in the saddle to gain the vie
w of the world around her.

  ‘COME ON, JESS,’ she screams, Jess rallies, surging to bunch and explode out with awesome power towards the horde.

  The Saxon slides deep. The weight of the vehicle and the speed generated travelling her deep into the battle. Finally it stops. A second of silence as heads shake to feel where they are in time and space.

  ‘NOW,’ Howie roars. Doors open. Mo and Dave leap to drop and land easy to twist on the spot and run.

  Roy is out of his door, twisting to grab the handle to pull himself up onto the roof. His bow in his hand. His bag thrown up ahead. On his feet. Bow righted. Arrow out, nocked, he lifts as he exhales and settles his gaze on the battle taking place. His eyes searching for blond hair amidst the carnage. Calm inside now. All thoughts of ill health vanish. All worries ease away. He is centred within the world. There. He finds her and looses the first that flies true and straight while the next is nocked.

  Lilly smiled at the sound of Clarence’s voice. She knew they’d come. She knew it in her heart. ‘GO BACK,’ she screamed. The men didn’t need telling twice. They fell back and away but the infected went after them. Chasing to keep the pressure of the attack on.

  The Saxon hit with a sickening crunch and never in her life did she ever think to see such a thing. A huge army vehicle coming in front first at a speed that made her think it would go right through to the other side. Then it turned to slide and the back end slammed through the horde as the vehicle went side into them. As one the infected turned to fight into it. She saw the change. The split second reaction of the horde switching to attack the new arrival.

  In the second of silence after the Saxon stopped so the sound of hoof beats filled the air. Heavy and solid and with a woman screaming on the top of the great horse swinging an axe to ride into the lines.

  That sparked the fight back on. The sensation of rage increased as the hundreds left screeched to fight and take what they can.

  Lilly spins to take the one down coming at her but finds it taken by an arrow embedding into the back of its head, sending it flying past her. She looks up, seeing Roy on his van nodding as he fires the next. A split second later another one is taken down an inch from her body.