The Undead Day Seventeen

by RR Haywood

  More are sent into the village and yet more are held back in the cover of the trees to wait and respond as the need arises.

  A silent approach and the hard surface of the road was avoided to prevent the sound of so many running feet preceding the attack.

  Not a cough or a wheeze was emitted. Not a stagger or trip. Not a voice given to sound other than that required to draw breath.

  At the last second, and as they breach the corner and charge equally to all four sides so they draw in air and let rip with a spine tingling howl that rips through the peace and quiet, and the instruction is clear. Find her. Kill her. End Marcy.

  Organised.

  Ruthless.

  One race.

  Seventeen

  The water from the tap thunders into the bowl and the tension built between us diverts to all out shock at the piercing sound ripping through the air. Feet drumming. Many feet. Voices howling. Many voices. Multi-directional and before I can even turn to face the open front door I know they are vast in number and coming from every direction at once.

  ‘STAND TO…’

  Dave’s voice, faint but clear. My heart ramps to beat with a thunderous rate. Blood pumps to surge past my ears and my focus sharpens as the expectation of the fight prepares my body.

  Separated from each other but the Saxon is in the middle with the GPMG on top. If I can get to that…but Marcy…Marcy can’t fight. I can fight. Fuck it, I’d charge out there now and take the lot on but Marcy has no experience. I race down the hallway to the open front door and see them streaming into the square sprinting flat out as they aim to cover all four sides. Hundreds of them and pumped up too. Wild and filled with rage and already the route to the Saxon is blocked.

  The wild noise of their howling ends abruptly and what comes next sends shivers down my spine and I turn slowly to see the creeping look of horror on Marcy’s face.

  Her name said by every undead at the same time.

  ‘MARCYYYYYYYYYY…’

  I slam the door, grab Marcy and start pushing her down the hallway but they’re already coming lithely over the garden fence to drop onto the lawn. So many of them and the rear is cut off. I pull Marcy to a stop and drag her back down the hallway and up the stairs as the front door crashes open. I throw my axe to the top of the stairs, twist and take aim as they come surging through the doorway. Fully automatic and I spray down with a hail of bullets and at such close range the effect should be devastating. They get blown back but they take those shots without a flicker of reaction and still they keep coming.

  Scrabbling backwards up the stairs I yank the rifle off and chuck it up then reach for the axe. Marcy stands there wide eyed and seeing them from a whole new angle roots her to the spot in fear. They are coming for her. They want her. Every pair of eyes is not on me but staring at Marcy.

  A hand grabs my left ankle as I grasp the axe and I’m pulled down with such force it lifts me from the stairs. I manage to get my right foot out and push hard to launch myself higher into the air and I sail backwards with teeth gritted and slam into them as they start coming up.

  We land in a tangle of bodies and limbs from which I thrash to break free. One gets past me so I grab his ankle and yank him down. He lands face first on the step with a sickening crunch that snaps the bone in his nose.

  Hands clawing me. Teeth digging into my shoulder as I try to get up. I’m facing up the stairs, flat on my back and managing to block them from getting past but it can’t hold. The axe still in my hand but no room to swing it so I jam the sharp double headed blades up and start swishing them side to side as hard as I can. The damage is low but it’s enough to open their skin and remove a few fingers. One of the blades bites deep into a neck and forces the body off to the side against the wall creating enough space for me to lurch up and forward.

  ‘Howie…’ Marcy starts coming down the stairs to help.

  ‘NO!’ I scream and with a strangled yell I break up and free and get up two steps which is enough room to swing the axe back round and drive hard and deep into the pressed crowd. The first blow takes a head clean from the shoulders and it drops down to be lost amongst the bodies. The follow through takes the blade into a shoulder and renders one arm useless. Still screaming I slice the other direction and again the blade bites deep through them. They show no reaction so I slice left and slice right in desperation to keep the two steps I have gained.

  More coming in through the door and I’m beaten backwards, going up one step at a time until some clever fucker decides to remove the bannister rail from the stairs so he can reach up from the sides. A pistol retort behind me and Marcy firing down. The first few shots miss but finally one strikes the head and blows the back of the skull off but the idea has been passed and more start gripping the spokes of the safety rail to snap and rip them free.

  ‘UP,’ I push into Marcy, driving her to the top of the stairs and they charge right behind us. I gain the top step and have a second spare to plant my feet and face down while they face up.

  Then they hit. Two abreast with an unrelenting surge that chokes them on the stairs for only the top two can get at us and they are chopped back down the stairs to fall and stagger into those behind. Their energy ramps and for the first time I see them using hands to wrench the ruined corpse aside. Actually grabbing and pulling them with such strength it sends a shiver of fear through me. They detect it and all eyes snap on me and with a screaming howl they charge harder.

  A swing up deep into the groin of one and the cut opens an artery so it pisses blood out in a gush like a waterfall. The one behind her slips on the stairs so I kick out to send the cut one back down. A lunge and a small female dressed in torn and bloodied sports gear gets past me by ducking low. I lash out and grip her rancid greasy ponytail to rip her off her feet and back down the stairs she goes like a bowling ball scattering the pins of the undead.

  I see him at the bottom. A big man. Not tall but wide with no neck and his shoulders are like an Olympic weightlifter. He dominates the space around him and waits patiently while those in front of him get cut down. As they fall he reaches out to grasp the bodies and fling them casually over the side of the stairs. He looks immense with slabs of muscle and thighs the like of which I have never seen before. His arms are as thick as Clarence’s but without the height it makes him look ridiculously strong and squat. His head doesn’t loll but remains fixed and staring. His red bloodshot eyes are fixed on Marcy then he flicks to stare at me. I grasp the axe handle tighter and adjust my stance.

  ‘Shoot him,’ I say quietly and watch with horror as he smiles. His lips stretch out to form a smile. Wicked and macabre and his skin is mottled with death but the rate of decay looks less on him than the others.

  Rising panic in my voice, ‘Marcy…shoot him…’

  She fires and the first bullet goes past him and into one behind that is killed outright. She fires again and again she misses. He doesn’t charge but waits patiently and that awful smile grows wider. I hear her take a steadying breath and aim before the next shot takes him dead centre in the chest and he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move and doesn’t even look down at the dribble of blood.

  ‘His head,’ I force calmness into my voice then hear the dry click of the gun as it clicks empty.

  Stand-off.

  Face off.

  I could go for my pistol but I know that movement will prompt him to charge. Same with the assault rifle but the magazine is empty and I won’t have enough time to change it.

  He moves up onto the next step that creaks under his weight. Those behind him wait silent and watchful. I swallow and lower my weight and my movement makes him freeze. We lock eyes. Mine dark and brooding. His red and full of the hive mind of the infection and projecting a confidence that unnerves me. That fear makes the blood in my veins run cold and it hits me that we could die here. The undead are different. They’ve been ramped up before but not like this. They seem more cohesive and determined. Then it hits me what the difference is. They’re mo
re human now. The way they stand and move. The way they don’t loll heads or drool but remain focussed and watchful.

  Oh well. Fuck it. We’ve had a good run and even if I get ripped limb from limb they’ll still have to face Dave, Clarence and Meredith and with an audible exhalation of breath so the fear goes and I’m left with a sensation of utter calm radiating out from my core. I smile down at him and lower the axe like a benevolent God taking in his mortal subjects.

  ‘All of you,’ I say and I was going to finish off with something cool but he’s charging with a speed that defies his size and I just have time to lift and swing. He snatches a hand out and catches the shaft. It gets twisted over like a bar between us that I grip two handed. His hands planted on the shaft next to mine and he takes me off my feet and back through the bathroom door and it’s like being hit by a truck. He slams me into the toilet and my head smashes through the vanity cupboard above the cistern. Glass breaks and the flimsy wooden thing splinters from the hard impact of my skull. He lifts me up bodily by the axe shaft then slams me down so I strike the cistern and that too gets ripped from the wall then down harder onto the ceramic toilet bowl. Water sprays from a ruptured pipe and the speed is so fast I don’t think to let go of the shaft that he still grips.

  I’m wrenched up off my feet and he twists his upper body round to slam me through the glass pane of the shower cubicle. Water gushing out onto the floor. I’m screaming but still too stupid to let go of the shaft. With the glass side of the shower cubicle smashed he pushes me into the corner and I slide down as he pushes me to into the tray. I get my feet up and start slamming them into his legs and knees but it’s like kicking a tree and that smile still adorns his face as he decides being down is boring and up we go. The top of my head hits the bottom of the electrical shower box with a loud thud that sends a searing pain down through my neck.

  Then he rags me. Like Meredith when she grips a neck and wrenches her head side to side so he does it now but using his body weight and strength. I bounce into the tiled walls left to right in a speed that gets faster and harder. The wind is driven from my lungs. My head spinning with a pain that makes me feel sick and dizzy. Marcy’s face appears beside his. On his broad back and she slams her fists into his ears with a look of terrified fury on her face.

  The thought permeates my head that if the rest come up then we’re done. Finished. But I’ll be buggered if this sod is getting away with it. I drop my right hand to my hip and scrabble to tug my knife out from the scabbard which isn’t easy when you’re getting slammed side to side by a huge weightlifter with a screaming woman on his back pounding on his ears. I want to tell her to go for his eyes but for some reason I can’t summon the air to talk and I put that down to him bench pressing me into the walls with the axe shaft.

  As I go right so my hand is trapped between my side and the wall and I have to wait to go left before trying to tug the knife free. Not enough time so I wait to go right again and give it a desperate tug when we go the other way. It comes free but before I can draw my arm up we’re going back to the right and I’m slammed into the hard tiles again. Marcy looks furious and stops pummelling his ears to rake his skin open with her nails and livid welts that seep with blood are soon gauged across his face and head.

  To the left and I manage to point the knife out and jab it into his leg. He doesn't flinch so I aim higher and stab him in the stomach. Still he doesn't stop and on the next switch of direction I lunge up and get the point to drive deep into his chest but it only seems to aggravate him so he drops the axe and grips those meaty hands round my throat. Instantly the air and blood flow is cut off and the booming rush of panic fills my mind as crimson dots appear in my vision.

  I get the knife up under his chin and stab up. Blood pumps from his mouth but still he squeezes and rags me while screaming with demented rage that sends the blood flying from his mouth. The point of the knife is driven further into his neck under his chin and I stab again and again until I get through the thick skin and sinew to cut into the artery. The blood sprays thick and fast and coats Marcy as she sinks back from the incredible noise and mess.

  He slumps forward. An immense weight that crushes me down into the shower tray and with much heaving we get him free and I slide out. A thunderous pounding as the rest come charging up the stairs and I just about get my foot to slam the door closed and wedge my feet against it with my shoulders pressing into the base of the toilet bowl.

  Panting hard I glance up to see Marcy drenched in blood and bits of gore. She looks wild and in that second I notice the red bloodshot look of her eyes are nowhere near as bad as they were.

  ‘Your eyes…’ I say stupidly.

  ‘Oh God,’ she sinks down at my side and gets sprayed full in the face by the broken water pipe. She coughs and splutters then sinks back as I burst out laughing. The sight of her looking so worried and so serious only to get blasted by the water. The hysteria of being choked and almost dying at the hands of a single undead in the bathroom of a cottage. Panic and fear mingle with the comedy of it all and I can’t stifle the laughs as she coughs, wipes her eyes and shoots me a filthy look.

  ‘Get your feet on the door…’

  She turns, nods and dives down to get tight into my side as her legs stretch out and her feet wedge against the inside of the door. Four legs pinned straight. Knee joints locked and thank fuck the door is an old solid wood thing instead of a modern cheap ply door. They get the other side but the pressure they can exert is not enough to force the door open.

  ‘You okay?’ She grunts.

  ‘Yep, you?’

  ‘Broke a nail,’ she holds her hand up to show me the snapped nail of her index finger, ‘bastard.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘No him.’

  ‘Go for the eyes next time.’

  She looks at me for a long second then nods, ‘didn’t think of it.’

  ‘No worries,’ I tense harder as the pressure of the door increases.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ She asks.

  ‘Nah…yeah…fucking hurts like a bitch…’

  ‘Don’t make me laugh,’ she snorts through her nose.

  ‘I don’t think they like you,’ I turn my head to look at her, ‘fucking hell, Marcy!’ I groan and turn away.

  ‘What?’ She demands.

  ‘Your top.’

  ‘What about my top? Oh…oh yeah…’

  ‘Oh yeah she says…’

  ‘Well, that’s what happens when water sprays on a t shirt.’

  ‘Yeah but…you can see everything.’

  I turn back to see her staring down at her own chest and the perfect outline of her breasts showing through the soaking material, ‘they look really good,’ she says quietly, ‘I love my boobs.’

  ‘Uh huh.’

  ‘Don’t you think they look good?’

  ‘Er…’

  ‘No but seriously, look…Howie…look….’

  ‘I’m not looking.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Cos it’s not exactly appropriate is it?’

  ‘They’re gonna get through and rip us apart in a second,’ she says as though talking about the weather.

  ‘So?’

  ‘So treat yourself and give a girl a compliment.’

  ‘Seriously? You want the last thing I ever see to be your tits?’

  ‘I was….’

  I turn and look. She’s right. They do look amazing, ‘they look amazing,’ I say with a sigh.

  ‘Thanks,’ she says brightly with a big grin.

  ‘No worries,’ my eyes stay fixed on the off white top.

  ‘You’re still looking,’ she points out.

  ‘Aye, they haven’t come through yet.’

  ‘Yeah, bit weird now.’

  ‘Really? Want me to stop?’

  ‘Can you stop ogling me please?’

  ‘You asked me to.’

  ‘I’m not just a piece of meat you know.’

  I look up into her eyes, ‘they’ll come.’
r />   ‘Where are they?’ She asks in a whisper.

  ‘They’ll come...’

  She stares at me for a long second as the door rattles and thumps against our feet, ‘they would have got here by now,’ she says softly, gently, almost apologetically, ‘but we can hold on,’ she adds quickly at seeing the look of loss and worry form on my face, ‘Howie…I was wrong, they’ll come.’

  ‘Yeah,’ suddenly I don’t feel so confident. They would have been here by now and I can’t help the growing sensation that something has gone wrong.

  ‘We can hold,’ she says again, more quickly this time.

  ‘Not for long…my legs are shaking.’

  ‘You just took a beating, relax and let me hold them.’

  ‘Marcy…’

  ‘I’ve got strong legs, rest and let me do it,’ she says with an arrogance that sets me off.

  ‘Oh wonderful boobs and strong legs yeah?’

  ‘What? I do have great boobs and I do have strong legs.’

  ‘You are so vain.’

  ‘I am not.’

  ‘So vain…I bet you were bloody horrible before this.’

  ‘I beg your pardon? What does that mean?’

  ‘You know exactly what I mean.’

  ‘No. Explain.’

  ‘Vain.’

  ‘Horrible before this? In what way?’

  ‘You’re so beautiful. Like…perfect…’

  ‘I bloody am not perfect,’ she scoffs but casts me a sideways look while saying it.

  ‘You so are and you know it. Your body is like…just incredible and you look like a fucking super model or something and…your hair…it’s like just fucking amazing…I bet you were a right bitch.’

  ‘Howie! Stop it. I was not a bitch.’

  ‘So vain.’

  ‘Stop saying that.’

  ‘Were you?’

  ‘Vain? No I was not vain.’

  ‘Seriously, were you though?’