The Undead Day Seventeen

by RR Haywood

‘Good lad,’ Clarence nods with a grin, ‘they’ll be scared and worried so take it easy for a bit.’

  ‘I don’t think Blinky is worried,’ I say after a second’s pause, ‘er…quite the opposite in fact.’

  ‘True,’ Clarence says, ‘Reggie, you okay?’

  ‘Decidedly not,’ he says as stiffly as Clarence a second ago, ‘I am wet and tired…’

  ‘I know mate,’ Clarence says, ‘bad day all round…but you kept up so…that’s a good thing.’

  ‘And despite my moaning I am eternally grateful for both you and David saving me. Truly I am. I am just not used to all…’ he looks down over at the weapons, ‘all of this.’

  ‘Dave,’ Dave calls out.

  ‘My apologies,’ Reginald says instantly.

  ‘Did you see that shop,’ I ask casually, ‘on the way in.’

  ‘Which one?’ Clarence asks, ‘the one with the suits?’

  ‘Yeah, looked good. We should head back there and see what they’ve got.’

  ‘Sounds good,’ Clarence says.

  ‘Nice ties in there,’ Nick gets the hint and joins in, ‘clean shirts and trousers too.’

  We all stand back and start shaking our hands off while Reginald looks sheepishly touched but smiles all the same, ‘thank you but perhaps I should adopt some more suitable clothing from now on.’

  ‘You wear whatever you’re comfortable with,’ Clarence says.

  ‘Can Blowers wear a dress then?’ Cookey asks.

  ‘What are you lot doing in there?’ Paula calls out, ‘hurry up.’

  ‘We we’re having an important boys meeting,’ Cookey says as we head back out, ‘are either of you gay?’ He asks the girls.

  ‘Alex!’ Paula snaps.

  ‘Cookey,’ Clarence groans.

  ‘Not now, mate,’ I say firmly.

  ‘What? Why?’ Charlie asks with a firm look.

  ‘That was completely out of order,’ Paula says with a glare, ‘we’ve talked about this.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Cookey sags on the spot from the shaking head and tuts.

  ‘You do not have to answer that,’ Paula says to Charlie and Blinky, ‘and the reason Alex asked that question is not because we’re homophobic but because he makes jokes about Blowers being gay which is childish and immature.’

  Cookey reels from the rebuke, looking crestfallen he blushes deeply.

  ‘Are you?’ Blinky asks Blowers.

  ‘No, Cookey doesn't mean any harm though,’ he adds quickly.

  ‘I’m gay,’ Blinky says in that abrupt tone which makes Cookey look like he wants the ground to open up.

  ‘And that is something we all respect,’ Paula replies.

  ‘Ease up,’ I cut in, ‘Cookey keeps our spirits up when otherwise we’d fall over and bloody cry. He isn’t homophobic or anything like that.’

  ‘He ain’t,’ Mo Mo comes to the defence of his team mate, ‘and he ain’t racist either, none of them are.’

  ‘The lads take the piss out of each other all the time,’ I say.

  ‘Yes but making fun because of sexual orientation is not something we can condone.’

  ‘We don’t,’ I say to Paula, ‘Cookey only does it to Blowers and Nick and that’s because he knows them. ‘Look at what they did back there, Paula…’

  ‘Yes but asking people if they are gay to find out if he is safe to continue making jokes is not okay.’

  ‘And we don’t live in a perfect world anymore,’ I say back, ‘and at least he asked.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ Blinky says with a shrug, ‘I don’t give a shit if Cookey makes jokes.’

  ‘Yes but you have only just joined us,’ Paula says, ‘and no doubt you’re both scared and not wanting to say anything that will upset anyone…we’re all armed and you’ve just seen us killing…’

  ‘So?’ Blinky says, ‘everyone takes the piss out of everyone. Don’t give a shit.’

  ‘She’s being honest,’ Charlie says quickly, ‘Blinky er…has a very strong sense of humour.’

  ‘I’m gay,’ Blinky shrugs, ‘but I want his babies,’ she points at Dave who blinks in surprise.

  ‘Right,’ I says firmly, ‘Cookey don’t ask stupid questions like that in future.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Howie.’

  ‘And if Cookey says anything that offends anyone then just say because he would never want to offend anyone. We need clothes, bags, boots…’

  ‘I was thinking about this,’ Paula says and quickly reaches out to squeeze Cookey’s arm, ‘we should each have a personal equipment bag with water, torches, batteries, tools and a first aid kit.’

  ‘Good idea. Anything else?’ I look round at the group, ‘we got fucked up this morning…my knife got us out of the shit…but getting caught out like that was awful. We only had a couple of magazines because we were wearing normal clothes and didn’t have anywhere to put the extras. Find clothes with pockets, strong boots…wet weather gear, jackets and trousers…spare tops…Dave?’

  ‘Dry socks and foot powder,’ he says.

  ‘Underwear,’ Clarence adds, ‘and waterproof torches will be best. Multi tools are a good idea,’ he nods to Paula, ‘and first aid kits yes, but be careful we don’t get weighed down by heavy kit.’

  ‘Paula, can you take Charlie and Blinky and find them suitable clothes to wear.’

  ‘Will do,’ she says, ‘Marcy, you coming with us?’

  ‘A shopping date?’ She laughs, ‘wouldn’t miss that for anything.’

  ‘There was a couple of outdoor shops on the top floor,’ Roy says, ‘Blacks and Trespass.’

  ‘To infinity and beyond then,’ I say with a grin and stare round at the blank faces and the tumbleweed rolling across the ground, ‘no? Anyone? No sense of humour you lot,’ I tut and walk off towards the escalator.

  Thirteen of us and we head up the stairs to the top floor and find the two outdoor shops at the end separated by a lingerie shop in the middle. I look across to Cookey expecting to see his face lighting up but he looks down at the ground and still crestfallen at being told off so severely. I drop back a few paces and get Paula’s attention then nod to Cookey. She looks back at him then over the lingerie shop and gives me a quick wink.

  ‘Ladies, look what I can see,’ she says in a clear voice, ‘crotchless panties anyone? Nipple tassles?’

  I keep my eye on Cookey snapping his head up to stare over at the window.

  ‘I knew someone who wore crotchless knickers,’ Marcy says brightly, ‘her name was April…’

  ‘Oh my god she never did?’ Cookey bursts out, ‘no way? Really? Did she really?’

  ‘No you daft plank,’ Marcy laughs, ‘stopped you sulking though.’

  ‘Oh April,’ Cookey sighs, ‘she wore them for me you know.’

  I snort with laughter and get another wink from Paula.

  ‘She did,’ Marcy says, ‘she told me…’

  ‘Fact,’ Cookey says, ‘Blowers, you getting any then?’ A test joke. A tentative step to see if anyone will yell at him.

  ‘For you, mate,’ Blowers says and the world moves on. Blinky laughing, Charlie smiling and the tension eases. Clarence smiling ruefully and Meredith taking a dump on the floor that she turns round to sniff before trotting off happily.

  ‘I might get a dildo,’ Blinky announces to a mix of shocked faces and others bursting out laughing.

  ‘Ladies with me,’ Paula leads her group into Blacks while we head for the cheaper Trespass.

  Both stores have already been broken into, so gaining entry is a simple matter of stepping across the threshold. Trespass was never as good as Blacks and lacked the top brands like Berghaus and Peter Storm. The rucksacks look the part but the clasps are flimsy and the straps thinner than they should be. Same with the boots, they look the part but the glue securing the top to the bottom is visible and poorly applied. Three weeks ago and none of that would have bothered me, but now, knowing our lives will depend on the quality of the kit we use and suddenly those things matter.

  E
very day is now life and death. Every decision matters. If we have to run we’ll either be running to save our own lives or running to save someone else’s so the last thing we’ll need are bags that will fall apart or boots flapping about with soles coming off. We need hard stuff that is made to last or designed for people intending to climb mountains or hike through jungles. Not weekend day trippers that will piss about in the local woods.

  The technical equipment might not be up to the job, but the socks, tops and trousers are suitable. We empty the shelves of socks, taking everything with us and what we can’t wear now we’ll stuff in the ever filling Saxon.

  Torches on the counter but they’re cheap and flimsy. The best ones are behind a glass case behind the counter and Nick makes light work by tapping the glass out with the butt of his rifle. We grab rucksacks and fill them with everything we can find. Torches, first aid kits, belt pouches, multi-tools, even survival whistles get thrown in. Bright orange things that claim to be at 108 decibels when used, they could have been used today when we got separated. Loaded up with full bags we head outside.

  ‘You decent?’ I call out through the busted open entrance.

  ‘We’re not changing here,’ Paula shouts back, ‘we’ll do it downstairs.’

  ‘Same,’ I say as we walk in. The store is bigger with less room used for back areas and more given over to shop floor space.

  ‘Getting much?’ I ask at the sight of several full bags of gear stacked up by the girls.

  ‘Everything,’ Marcy says with a smile, ‘do you want us in black or bright clothes?’ She asks.

  I walk over and stand watching Charlie holding a pair of trousers against her legs.

  Should we look the same? Like a uniform of sorts? We did that before when we got kit from the army stores and it made everyone think we were from the army. I look round at the clothing on offer in every colour imaginable, including plenty in black. Twelve other people in the store and if the girls stay with us then that makes it a big team. Meredith brushes past me to nose around the bags the girls have already filled and I watch the black sides of her coat and her broad black head. It’s not just her size that is intimidating, it’s the colouring of her coat. Rottweilers and Dobermans are the same. Special Forces wear black, police SWAT teams are in black too. It doesn't just look professional but it helps hide the individuality of each person.

  ‘Howie?’ Marcy asks, ‘black or…’

  ‘Black,’ I say, ‘everyone in black so we look the same.’

  The right decision seems to have been made and they get to work with purpose. Nick and Roy head to the counter rifling the head torches, hand held torches and every other bit of equipment on display.

  We empty the store and with everyone carrying rucksacks filled with gear, plus assault rifles and hand weapons we start the journey back down to the escalators to the food hall.

  ‘Can we go there?’ Paula nods to the Marks and Spencer on the middle floor as we get from the first escalator, ‘hair bands.’

  ‘God yes,’ Marcy says, ‘good idea, and facial wipes.’

  ‘Toothbrushes,’ Paula says, ‘and paste and I haven’t shaved my legs in days.’

  ‘Tampons,’ Blinky announces, ‘my period is due.’

  ‘Argh gross,’ Cookey says.

  ‘I can just bleed on the floor if you’d prefer,’ Blinky says to him.

  ‘Argh even more gross,’ he says and leads the way round the circular walk way to the store doors.

  More stuff is taken. Wipes of all manner and type and just about every hair band in the store is removed and bagged up. Razors, shaving gel, anti-bacterial soaps and sprays. We load up with toothbrushes, pastes and even hand towels from a display stand. Foot powders, deodorants, shampoos, hair brushes…everything we can carry or that can be stuffed into bags. Finally, and now completely loaded down with gear, we take the final escalator and down into the food hall where everything gets dumped in one central place.

  ‘Plan?’ Paula asks me, ‘or can I go ahead and organise it?’

  ‘You can fill your boots,’ I say with a grin, ‘everyone listen in…Paula is now in charge as the personnel manager and I am relieved of duty for a bit.’

  ‘Nooooo,’ Cookey says in a low voice.

  ‘Boys, grab a towel and some soap…razors and get washed and shaved dried and changed. Ladies the same and once we’re cleaned we’ll start organising the bags but nobody…and I repeat, Alex Cookey…nobody is to go through these bags until I’m back and can do it properly. Understood?’

  ‘Bliss,’ I sigh theatrically.

  ‘Mr Howie, will you be shaving today?’ Paula asks me pointedly.

  ‘Er…yes?’ I venture the answer.

  ‘Good, then we look to cutting some hair too.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Have you seen yourselves?’ Marcy asks, ‘you’re all hairy and dirty looking.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘You said I was in charge so in charge I shall be,’ Paula grins evilly, ‘right, get to it,’ she claps her hands like the tyrant she is and makes a point of handing each of us a towel, razor, toothbrush and paste and telling us to get our new clothes to take down with us now, and then telling us not to put them on the wet floor, and also telling us not to spend the time pissing about and she expects us back out within ten minutes.

  We get shooed away with Marcy laughing in delight at the sight of a dominating Paula. Grumbling and feeling henpecked we do as bid and head back to the same sinks we used earlier.

  Toothbrushes are taken from packets and it feels nice to clean our mouths. The air fills with minty smells as the paste gets handed from one to the other down the line. Nine heads bent towards the sinks and nine blokes spitting into the bowls. We soak our faces with water then wait for the shaving gel to get handed down the line. Even Mo takes his turn despite the four or five hairs sticking out from his chin. Clarence spots him watching the older lads and smiles wryly to himself.

  ‘Shaving,’ he announces to the room, ‘is done like this…’ he glares down the line in a way that does not invite flippancy from the lads. ‘rub the gel into a lather so it’s nice and thick…wet the razor head…’ he pauses until everyone has wetted the head of their razor, ‘and we press the head to the skin and bring it smoothly down,’ he starts next to his ear and smoothly pulls the razor down his face to his jaw line, ‘then we rinse the blade and do the next strip…’ he pauses again letting everyone catch up. Even Reginald, Dave and I do as we’re told just so Mo Mo doesn't feel left out. Uniform shaving. From one cheek to the next with careful instruction applied to the top lip and the skin at either sides of the mouth. Clarence explains the pluses of shaving with the directional growth of hair and also going against the flow. We work our chins and jaws, and onto the throats.

  ‘Good lads,’ Clarence booms, ‘now get washed…tops off, armpits cleaned thoroughly and we make sure anywhere that can harbour bacteria is cleansed thoroughly. That means our penises, bollocks and arse…Cookey…

  ‘Didn’t say a word, Clarence,’ Cookey says, ‘er…we doing it all together?’

  ‘No we are not,’ Clarence says, ‘we shall all turn around and take it in turns to preserve the dignity of our comrades…’

  ‘Thank fuck for that,’ Cookey says.

  ‘About turn,’ he snaps the order then stares down the line to Mo, ‘not you, Mo Mo, you go first.’

  The lad turns about and sets to it.

  ‘Pull the skin of your penis back and clean it thoroughly,’ Clarence says while we all face the wall on the other side, ‘clean your arse crack and make sure everything is dried properly.’

  ‘Okay,’ Mo Mo says. I smile to myself and offer a prayer of thanks that someone like Clarence is with us. One by one we take turns and make use of the privacy of a few minutes to clean thoroughly and Paula was right, the floor does become soaking wet within a few minutes.

  Clothes are sorted, boots handed round and socks paired up. We get dried and dressed with clean dry clothes a
nd freshly shaven chins and it makes a difference. Black cargo trousers, lightweight but water repellent. Sturdy boots and black quick dry wicking tops that cling to our frames.

  Nine bedraggled blokes entered the washroom, filthy with ill-fitting clothes and stubbly chins. What comes out is a team of nine men wearing fitted clothing suited to purpose and all matching. Even Reginald decided to try the clothes on the promise we’d still get him some new shirts and ties from the suit shop on the way out. We walk taller, prouder, backs straight and striding like men.

  We aim for the middle and wait for Nick to pass the smokes out, muted conversations and I can’t help but sweep my eyes over them. Blowers growing into his role as corporal but with a deft touch that takes him from one of the lads to leader with ease. Cookey, with his blond hair looking handsome with his freshly shaved chin. Nick, tall and smiling as he shares a joke with Mo Mo who looks so different now. Younger than the rest but he stands proud now, not skulking or hiding at the back. His dark features match the black clothing perfectly and you can tell he feels more included now they all look the same. Roy and Clarence tutting with disgust at everyone else smoking. Both of them standing at ease with legs planted apart and arms folded. Dave is Dave and the black clothes make him look even more deadly than before. Especially when he threads the knife scabbards through the belt to hang one on each hip and another two more in the small of his back.

  ‘You use knives,’ Dave walks to Mo Mo and states the question as fact rather than asking.

  ‘Yeah,’ Mo Mo nods, ‘axe is too heavy for me.’

  ‘Take your belt off,’ Dave orders and waits for Mo to unclasp his belt and pull it free, ‘carry four,’ Dave drops to one knee with four scabbards to thread through Mo’s belt. ‘They’re modern and lightweight, one on each hip and two more at the back…put it back on. I’ve watched you fight. Don’t use two knives from now on. Use one in your right hand until you are good enough to fight with two. Understand?’

  ‘Yeah sure.’

  ‘Like this,’ Dave moves to stand beside Mo and drops into a crouch before drawing one knife in his right hand. Mo Mo copies him and flips the knife so the blade is reversed up against his forearm.