The Undead Day Seventeen

by RR Haywood

  The force of the arrow striking the big red haired woman makes me blink in surprise. Soundless and it sinks into her side causing her to veer off but she stays on her feet. I glance over to see Dave already pulling the next one back. The distance isn’t great but still, for a first shot with a bow the accuracy is stunning. The next one strikes her shoulder. The third hits her thigh. The fourth is dead centre in her back and like a porcupine she keeps coming. I’ve never known Dave to miss at anything and I look over wondering what how he’s handling not being perfect at killing something and I can’t help but laugh when he passes the bow back to Roy, pulls his pistol and shoots her with a perfect head shot. Her brains fly out to the side and this time she slumps dead on the ground.

  An assault rifle booms with the louder more distinctive retort. Marcy aiming and firing single shots under the careful watch of Clarence. A look of intense focus on her face as she aims and fires. Feet planted apart and the weapon held ready but I can see the tension in her stance and Clarence speaking softly to help her relax. I take in the team from an offset angle. The four lads ranged out to the side look incredibly competent and much older than their true years and with a jolt the absence of Lani hits me hard again.

  A true death, total and complete and no coming back. I'll never see her again. Never hear her voice or be able to hold hands while we sleep. I've known her for about nine days. Just nine days but it feels like months and years. We didn’t even bury her, didn’t even stop to offer a prayer or deal with her body but moved on going forever forward. She deserved a funeral pyre that blazed into the sky. She deserved a day of mourning, of words spoken to honour her passing but instead we fucked off to get some sleep and that was my responsibility. Yeah so we only knew her for a few days but everything now is magnified, time is compressed or the feeling of longevity is lengthened. I can't explain it but this hasn't been seventeen days. I've known these people my entire life. We've always done this and been together. What I was before is gone, eradicated from history.

  We are all that we are now and always have been and always will be. There is no past. No future. Now. Just the now and the second we are in at this point and what we do with this second will define us forever more. The loss bubbles with nihilism that mingles with despair yet there is hope and worth. We are worthy and what we do is worthy too. We've been given a gift and we’re only just scraping at the basic understanding of what it means.

  Here they come and I don't run back now. I don't scuttle or flee to gain room but I watch and stare as they come staggering towards me with anger that builds clearly in their red bloodshot eyes. Static I wait. Fuelled with lust for blood they come then a sudden recognition in their eyes, like a focus or intelligence coming into their eyes. That's it. An intelligence that wasn't there before. I saw it. The switch from fetid wild beast to an organised hive mind that quickly gains pin point accuracy and the horde cease the full on frontal charge to spin and change into a horseshoe line with the recessed mid-point aimed at me and the long lines at the sides trying for my flanks.

  It happens quickly with fluid motion and they charge coordinated with an almost graceful synchronisation. My axe comes up into a two handed grip and rather than letting them gain the full momentum I run at the middle then off to the left at the last minute and spin my axe round to cleave into the neck of the closest male. The power of the swing drives clean through, detaching his head that plops down with a dull thud and the follow through is so strong it digs deep into the shoulder of the one next to him. A back step and I swing round keeping the axe held mid height and a stomach is ripped open to let the sticky innards spill out. As I went into them and they charged at me so I become faster and move with greater precision. Being where I need to be and taking advantage of the gaps created by the massed execution of their manoeuvre. An uppercut drives one side of the double headed axe deep into a groin that opens an artery and the blood pumps down like gushing piss onto the concrete road. I boot that one hard into two more then spin and remove a leg at the knee joint. The firing starts again, single shots no doubt and I hear it well enough to keep my position and not risk running into the line of fire. Instead I ease back to draw them with me.

  They come and they die a second death but one that is permanent. The virus is spilled again and again onto the ground. A ripple of energy goes through them so palpable I am aware of it rather than seeing it. Like a feeling or a sense and I'm ready for the harder, chemical fuelled charge a split second before they do it. Slicing left and right, up and down. Stepping back then lunging forward and the trail of broken bodies grow thick in my wake and suddenly I turn and run, bored, hungry, wanting it over and done with.

  'Shoot the buggers,' I shout over my shoulder and wait for the weapons to open up and feel the pulse of excitement at hearing the GPMG burst to life with the more distinct thudding fire rate. Cut down in seconds and it’s over nearly as quickly as it began.

  ‘How was it?’ I call out to Marcy while walking back.

  ‘Strange,’ she says while handing the rifle back to Clarence, ‘I thought it would hurt more and have more…what’s the word again?’

  ‘Recoil?’

  ‘More recoil,’ she says, ‘I think I’ll need a bit more practise before I’m any good.’

  ‘I need food before we do anything,’ I head back towards the vehicle as Nick finally lets Meredith go bounding over to sniff at the bodies littering the ground. She finds one still alive and rags it senseless with a vicious snarl that snaps the beast’s neck.

  ‘Same sign over there…and down that road,’ Paula points at the next unit along then down the next side road leading to the next row of shuttered businesses.

  ‘Weirdoes,’ Blowers snorts with disdain, ‘we doing ‘em?’

  ‘Food,’ I say with a shake of my head.

  ‘Thank fuck for that,’ he says. They load up and we drive smoothly from the industrial section and back onto the main avenue leading towards the town. Tree lined with big Victorian houses on both sides. Garden walls, picket fences and litter bins everywhere. The signs of damage are as evident as anywhere else. Windows smashed and some of the houses are burnt out. Front doors hanging off but still no bodies and the rain from the storm has washed most of the blood stains away.

  The avenue leads to a mini roundabout with four junctions leading off. One goes into the High Street, one goes off towards more houses and the other two lead down onto the seafront. With a nice touch of irony I go through the red circled sign indicating no entry and head onto the seafront with the idea of finding a café or restaurant.

  From the roundabout we get onto the straight road bordering the beach and see tourist England in its finest glory of shit souvenir shops and shit fast food next to the gaudy signs of local cafes and more shit souvenir shops. It looks rundown, broken, faded, old and bloody awful. Two big hotels dominate the seafront. Vast white fronted buildings with huge plate glass windows on the ground floor and the many levels above show the balconies of the rooms. It looks communistic, formulaic and dreadful. A complete lack of character and done to cram as many old people into one place to squeeze every penny from them.

  This town looked gorgeous from the hill above, but here, driving through it and seeing it up close shows the cracks and rot. The pier stretches out from the shore on thick stilt like legs. A huge white building sits on the first half and the latter part is given over to what looks like a walkway and fishing area. It’s dirty. The white façade is streaked with filth. The whole place is dirty and if it wasn’t for the gnawing hunger I would happily drive straight through and out the other side.

  ‘Hotel kitchen?’ I ask Clarence while pointing lazily at one of the two communist leisure blocks.

  ‘Worth a go,’ he grunts with the same look of disdain that must be showing on my face.

  With the Saxon stopped we pile out and this time we’re all armed to the teeth with rifles up and aiming out. Blowers leads the lads out into the road with an order to secure the sides and front.

>   ‘Quiet now,’ I say in a hushed tone, ‘Dave and Roy, you two take front.’

  They mount the broad steps and start up towards the front doors that are already smashed in with glass littering the ground. Roy stops and sweeps his foot over a pile of glittering fragments before calling back quietly that it’s safety glass. Paula was holding Meredith and on being let go the dog bounds the steps with her nose held down and sniffing.

  We all watch to see if she takes a scent of anything but she veers side to side and round the big lobby area without a growl or a hackle raised. Dave threads behind her into the lobby and stops to stare at each exit while listening for sounds from within. Treading carefully, Roy heads over to the reception counter and views behind it then disappears from sight into the office at the back, giving a thumbs up when he comes back.

  To the left is the double entrance to the dining hall, the doors are wedged open and it looks like a riot took place inside. Every table is overturned, every chair is on its side or back. Table cloths strewn everywhere and table condiments lie broken on the floor.

  Ahead of us is the main corridor leading into the accommodation room where no doubt the patrons had to surrender their passports to the Gestapo officer on duty.

  ‘Fucking dump,’ I mutter and earn a glance of agreement from Marcy.

  ‘I used to work in places like this,’ she says in a whisper.

  ‘Yeah? Any good?’ I ask while waiting for Dave to proceed.

  ‘Awful, like cattle farming,’ she says with distaste, ‘I hated it.’

  ‘Ahead and to the left,’ Dave says pointedly, ‘two points of danger. We can split and check both or…’

  ‘Stay together, we’ll go for the dining room first. I’m not wasting a day checking hundreds of hotel rooms.’

  ‘After the units though?’ Paula asks, ‘they could be stacked up in there.’

  ‘Could be,’ I reply with a shrug, ‘if they come out we’ll deal with it, Dave go left through the dining room, Blowers?’

  ‘Yes, boss?’

  ‘Two of you in here to keep the reception secure, two out front watching in line of sight.’

  ‘Got it, Mo Mo and Nick inside, Cookey out here with me.’

  We wait for the two to get into the lobby then proceed carefully into the mess of the dining room.

  A vast room. Square with white walls and cheap prints adorning the walls. Blood everywhere. Thick smears across the floor and splashes dried on the walls. Flies and insects buzz happily. The windows magnify the heat and within seconds the sweat is sliding down my neck. It stinks too.

  ‘No bodies,’ Marcy says as we reach halfway into the room, ‘this is giving me the willies. Reggie, are you okay?’

  ‘I am not okay,’ he says with a strained voice, ‘I am decidedly not okay. I am the opposite of okay. I am terrified and I do not wish to be here. Mr Howie, may I wait outside with your esteemed colleagues?’

  ‘Go for it,’ I reply, ‘Nick? Reginald is coming out.’

  ‘Okay,’ he calls back.

  ‘He is squeamish then,’ I remark once the little man has almost run from the room.

  ‘Very.’

  ‘Did he not have that issue when…you know…when you were killings thousands of innocent people and generally ruining as many lives as possible?’

  ‘Howie,’ Paula snaps at me as though I said something dreadful.

  ‘What? She did,’ I reply.

  ‘Still,’ she says with a huff, ‘that was rude.’

  ‘Rude? Fuck rude. You didn’t see…’

  ‘No he didn’t,’ Marcy interrupts my flow that was building to a rant.

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Reggie, he never turned anyone. He couldn’t face it.’

  ‘Oh…oh fair enough. He’s just gone up in my estimations then.’

  ‘I take it I’m still at the bottom of your estimations then?’

  ‘Bottom? There is no bottom for what you did.’

  ‘Kitchens,’ Dave says dully from ahead of us.

  ‘Go through mate.’

  We keep going, stepping over the debris while ranged out in a line.

  ‘I was infected,’ Marcy says after a few second of silence after Dave and Roy have pushed through the swing doors into the kitchens.

  ‘So?’

  ‘So it was the virus that did it. Not me.’

  ‘Not you? But you knew what was happening.’

  ‘I was aware but…’

  ‘Should have killed yourself,’ I say bluntly, ‘as soon as you turned you should have killed yourself. Where was it?’

  ‘Where was what?’ She asks in a curt tone.

  ‘Where did you get turned?’

  ‘The hotel on the seafront, the one that Darren set on fire…’

  ‘Yeah, I remember it.’

  ‘Outside of there. He bit me and waited for me to come back.’

  ‘Sounds romantic.’

  ‘I was terrified,’ she glares across the room angrily, ‘this monster had bitten me and was cradling my head while I died…does that sound romantic?’

  ‘Oh I don’t know, the flames in the background, the night sky above…you and Darren spooning on the pavement…’

  ‘Fuck you,’ she hisses.

  ‘Nah thanks, save that for your infected boyfriends.’

  ‘How dare you!’

  ‘Enough,’ Paula snaps.

  ‘I know what I did and I will do anything to help put it right.’

  ‘Right?’ I stop walking and stare past Paula to Marcy, ‘how the fuck you gonna do that? You killed hundreds of innocent people. You fucking ate them…you cannibalised them and…’

  ‘I am here aren’t I,’ she turns to face me, ‘and I saved you twice after that.’

  ‘Fuck off,’ I scoff, ‘saved us so you could fucking trick us later.’

  ‘I had no idea what was going on. The infection did that. NOT ME!’

  ‘That’s what Hitler said.’

  ‘Howie!’

  ‘Boss,’ Clarence looks at me with a grimace.

  ‘Did you just compare me to Adolf Hitler?’ She demands.

  ‘I don’t know. Did I? Was he infected too when he committed genocide?’

  ‘She did save us,’ Clarence says.

  ‘Save us? She got us into that fucking mess in the first place!’

  ‘Did I? Did I make that prisoner come after you?’

  ‘Probably. You probably did it so you could save us and then be the hero and lure us into a false sense of security so you could try and infect us with sex and…’

  ‘Oh now hang on,’ she walks towards me with a dangerous look in her eyes, ‘you said that I was aware when Darren turned me…’

  ‘You knew exactly what…’

  ‘Did you say that? Did you say I was aware when Darren turned me and I did those terrible things?’

  ‘Yes. Yes I fucking said that.’

  ‘Don’t swear at me.’

  ‘I’m not swearing at you I’m swearing generally.’

  ‘You were swearing at me.’

  ‘Grow up.’

  ‘You said I was aware and I should have killed myself. Is that right?’

  ‘Yes. Yes and yes. How many times do I have to say it? Yes you were perfectly aware and you should have killed yourself.’

  ‘And in the fort that night?’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Were you aware?’

  ‘Aware of what? What are you getting at?’

  ‘Were you aware you were getting horny and wanted to have sex with me?’

  ‘Oh God,’ Clarence moans, ‘sod this…you coming?’ He asks Paula.

  ‘Behind you,’ Paula says.

  ‘I did not want to have sex with you,’ I snap back, ‘that was chemicals doing that.’

  ‘Why didn’t you kill yourself then? Go on? You were aware you were horny and wanted to have sex with me…’

  ‘That is not the same thing and I did not want to have sex with you…’

  ‘You had a
bloody great big erection and were dry humping my leg!’

  ‘We heard that,’ Paula calls back.

  ‘That was chemicals.’

  ‘So you should have killed yourself. You knew what you were going to do and knew it could have made you infected.’

  ‘I’m immune.’

  ‘You know that now but not then. Mr Howie…righteous and perfect in everything he does. You would have had sex…we were about this far away from kissing if I remember rightly,’ she says holding her thumb and forefinger a fraction of distance apart.

  ‘That,’ I growl with my eyes locked on hers, ‘is not the same as killing hundreds of people.’

  ‘If you had turned…and there was a very real risk you would have turned…you would have done the same as me except worse…you turned would be a thousand times more dangerous than Darren and all the rest put together…you knew that mister bloody Howie…’

  ‘Fuck…’

  ‘Stop swearing at me! Judge me. Fine go ahead and judge me. I know what I did but you aren’t so innocent.’

  ‘I would have killed myself,’ I turn away muttering.

  ‘Would you? The same chemicals that made you want to have sex would have flooded your body and made you do the things I did.’

  ‘Fucking stupid.’

  ‘Oh good come-back.’

  ‘You still killed loads of people, all I did was get horny and that was your fault too.’

  ‘Oh for the love of God. I am here. Reginald and I are here to do whatever it takes to make this stop. If a scientist walked in this room right now and said this would end but it would mean shooting me dead I would do it…’

  ‘We all would,’ I turn back to her, ‘anyone would.’

  ‘You know what I mean!’

  ‘No food, it’s all gone off,’ Roy walks past with the others behind him.

  ‘I suppose that’s my fault too is it?’ Marcy scowls at me.

  ‘Know what,’ I say her with a nasty smile, ‘probably fucking is.’

  ‘Grow up.’

  ‘You grow up,’ I stomp after the rest kicking chairs from my path.

  ‘Does that make you feel better?’