“Why didn't he shoot you?” I asked, shifting the stab vest a little on my shoulders. I could feel the wetness of blood beneath the police shirt but it must have been only superficial wounds. I felt strong, in control, able to deal with this without the other three.
“I don't know why... maybe he didn't want to waste the bullets? Or he didn't want to warn you where he was with the noise? Does it matter?” she asked.
“Everything matters,” I replied, crouching down in front of Freddy. He was staring into space towards the left, his expression a trembling mix of fear and sorrow. I couldn't see any anger.
“I want to know why,” I said, carefully grabbing the boy's jaw and turning his face towards me. “Tell me why. Why did you want to specifically kill me, why you didn't kill them and why you were here in this station. I want to know what you did.”
“I didn't do anything.” His voice was pitifully high, heavy on consonants as if he had to consider each word before he said it. His lips trembled. I didn't let him go.
“Answer me. Tell me everything.”
He licked his lips nervously. When he finally replied, his answer was disjointed as he struggled to give me all the information at the same time.
“I didn't do anything, not to... there were people here but I didn't want to... they let me stay if I helped out, I lit the candles most of the time, they were too busy. Jason kept the worst of the others away from me, said I reminded him of someone. We'd talk about horror films, he liked people to listen to him. Vince never really did. We chose names, to make ourselves feel... anyway... look, I didn't want to die, and I didn’t want those things to be done. I never did them, I swear, I just couldn't leave... I'm sorry, I was scared, you'd be scared, I just wanted, want, to live... I wasn't going to kill them. As soon as... I would have let them out. I just wanted to get out of here...”
“Why did you want to kill just me?” I asked again. I had my face close to his, watching every twitch of his eyebrows closely, every ripple of flesh. His eyes were quivering, emotion bubbling up through his body.
“I thought you were going to kill me.”
He proceeded to recount the events after he regained consciousness. He had looked around and found the men dead in the reception. He had actually been relieved that they were gone, though he said that he had no idea how he was going to survive without them. He had grabbed a weapon and tried the fire exit but the dead outside had forced him back in. It was then that he had heard Eliza, comforting Juliet from around the corner. He hadn't wanted to confront Eliza, as he was sure she'd want revenge for his complicity but the three escapees had been at the only viable exit. He had crept back the other way, hoping to sneak out without being seen, yet when Juliet had spotted him and yelled out in warning, Freddy (who revealed his real name was Ciaran) had grabbed the shotgun that was lying on the sports bag and used it to force Eliza and the others away from the exit. It was then that he had heard my knocking. He had herded the others towards the cells, Eliza challenging him every step of the way, turning the air blue with insults, telling him I was coming back and that he'd surrender, or there would be hell to pay...
“I told her I was going to kill you but I didn't want to...”
“You pulled the trigger,” said Eliza, arms held tight by her side as she tried to control her anger.
“I didn't want to!” insisted Ciaran again, wiping his hand over his brow, leaving a trail in the sweat that was forming there. The room wasn't especially hot, especially now the night had come, so it must have been the stress of the situation that was causing it.
“I saw you coming and I panicked. If I'd tried to unlock the back door you would have heard me and rushed me, I know it. I had no way out. I wouldn't...”
“You would, you bloody well would do something like that again,” said Eliza, stepping closer and slapping him across the head, like she was scolding a child. “Don't you dare lie to us, not after what you've been a part of in here.”
“No... I...” he started again, eyes wide.
“You would,” I said to him, looking at his small form, recognising traits that I had seen in Cato, and more recently myself. I remembered how complicit I had been with Vince and Jason, ready to dose a woman I didn't know so that she could be abused more easily, just to save Dorothy, who by that point was already dead. If it hadn't been Eliza, then I had no idea how far I would have gone. I liked to think I had a strong moral compass but it was easy to believe such a thing before it had been really and truly tested.
“You'd do anything to save a life, especially your own. It takes a very special person to do otherwise. You're just... you're average, normal, except you’ve been placed in an extraordinary situation. We have to understand that if we're going to move forwards.”
I looked up towards Eliza.
“Every life is precious, especially now. He comes with us,” I said, turning back towards him, “if he wants to.”
His mouth was agape. He looked towards Eliza but she was not welcoming.
“No, not at all. No,” she said, shaking her head vigorously. “There is no way I'm getting in a car with a man who wanted to be a party to... whatever they were planning...”
I couldn't blame her for feeling that way but I felt I had to change her mind, for my own sanity more than anything. No more deaths. I stood up and took her out of the cell, out of sight of the cowering boy so that we could talk privately.
“After all that we've been through, you're still in my company, talking to me, caring about what happens to me. You haven't given up on me,” I said quietly, hoping to be out of earshot of Ciaran.
“Not yet but you're not making it easy,” she replied.
“I know but... what I'm trying to ask is... why?”
“Well,” she replied, looking around herself as if the answer could be found on the blood stained walls, “you redeemed yourself, for the most part. We have a small history, for better or worse. I'm still not sure why though.”
“Right,” I said, trying to formulate the words correctly. I was glad she thought that was the case. I could feel there was a way through this conversational maze, if I just made the right choices. “But... if I'd asked to stay with you just after the incident with the gun, after he... Marcus... after that time outside your house...”
She looked at me strangely, probably suspicious as to the direction I was driving the conversation.
“...if I'd asked you then, would you have said yes?”
“No, not at all. I cursed you for the whole journey to the town and I cursed myself for trusting you after all that I'd seen. I trusted you, I helped you. I could have left you to scream and shout yourself to death in that house, waiting for the dead to come and get you. There are things, serious things that we need to discuss, except we don’t have the luxury of time right now. If we’re going to see this whole... thing... out whilst staying together, we need to resolve them as soon as we can.”
It was not the point I'd been pushing for. “All right... OK,” I said carefully, momentarily confused. (Blind). I took a deep breath, a last attempt forming in my mind, the words playing on my lips.
“Well, the boy in there hasn't had a chance, not yet. He didn't meet like we did, two lonely souls in a desolate village. He was left in a town with a choice between solitude and likely death from the infection, having his body eaten by cadavers, or staying alive for the foreseeable future alongside murderers and rapists. He's free of that now. He's found us, albeit in the worst way... but where we are now, at this stage, we need forgiveness.” I spoke the last few words slowly, as if telling them to myself as well. “This is a world where forgiveness is a necessity for our continued survival.”
The walls seemed to bend and sway in my vision, as if my eyes were losing all focus. I gripped my temples as a band of sharp pain flashed across my mind. After a few moments, I felt Eliza put her hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes to see the features of a woman that truly deserved not only to survive but to live. I made a small vow to mys
elf that I would do anything to make that a reality.
“Let's go. All of us,” she said. “And God help us if you're wrong.”
When I peeled off the stab vest and shirt, I found a large spreading stain of blood across my stomach. It looked worse than it actually was, with only one or two bits of shot having embedded themselves shallowly in my abdominals. With a little help from Eliza I was able to remove them with some tweezers, though the lack of pain relief made it a slow and agonizing task. When I was bandaged up again, I put a fresh shirt on along with a new stab vest, with Eliza taking three or four packs of riot gear for the journey as well, as mine had proved invaluable.
With Ciaran's help we were able to get the bodies into the car with the minimum of noise, though I felt guilty that we had to lay them in the boot in such an undignified manner, one on top of the other, with bags and gear either side of them. There was simply no other option. Arthur still hadn't spoken but as I settled into the driver's seat I spotted him laying a protective hand on the head of the already sleeping Juliet. I doubted she could have got much sleep in that cell, hearing noises no child should endure. She clearly felt safe with us and we had to live up to that responsibility. Ciaran was sat next to them, lap and legs obscured by rucksacks and bags. He had been quiet since we had all agreed that he could stay with us and was staring out of the window at the staggering corpses in the car park, just about visible in the small amount of moonlight that filtered through the cloud cover. One or two of them were getting closer, so after a quick final check that we had everything and everyone, I turned the key in the ignition.
The engine sounded a roar in our ears. I quickly flicked on the headlights to be confronted by the dead policeman's corpse, the radio still dangling behind it as it limped towards us, dragging a left foot that it had somehow twisted and broken in the time since I had last seen it. It was too close; I had no room to manoeuvre. I settled for dealing with the corpse head on.
The already cracked windscreen took another impact as I hit the body, pulling the wheel around in a tight circle and heading onto the driveway towards the main road, accelerating as I went. I heard a gasp from Arthur and a small yelp from Juliet. Sleeping would have to wait.
I hadn’t built up enough speed to knock the body over, so it lay on the bonnet, arms waving frantically as it tried to claw its way towards us. It managed to get one rotting hand on the break in the windscreen, forcing its fingers slowly through the weakness. Eliza squirmed as small pieces of glass toppled onto her legs along with slivers of flesh being cut from the bones even as the thing twisted it fingers to get a better grip. She struck the thing's hand aggressively with her elbow, trying to dislodge it but to no avail. Luckily we emerged onto the main road and I was able to swing the wheel around. The corpse slid off sideways, pulling a chunk of the breaking glass with him and leaving a gaping hole.
I had turned with exaggerated force to throw it off and found us heading towards the front of the police station, so I was forced to swing the wheel back again sharply, narrowly missing a group of undead that were staggering out of the fire exit alleyway, the blood of the cannibal bright and fresh on their mottled teeth. I heard the bodies and bags in the boot tumble and crash into the sides as I turned wildly, whilst Ciaran gave a shout of alarm at each turn.
“No,” I heard myself say, as the headlights of the car revealed a mass of dead through the web of cracks on the broken windscreen, crawling, staggering and moaning throughout the street, covering our route out. I was going too fast to turn; I only had one viable option, and I had to hope it had a more favourable result than last time. I accelerated as fast as I could and tried to aim the car towards where the bodies seemed thinnest, ploughing the curved bonnet through the bodies like a ship through icebergs. The right headlight shattered, reducing visibility as the bodies flew past, each impact shaking and denting the car.
A sudden wrench of panic gripped me as I thought the second headlight had gone, before I realised it was simply illuminating the space ahead, a space without the dead but loaded with possibilities, both good and bad. The windscreen was little more than a tangle of cracks, the bonnet was buckling, dented and bloody, yet still the wheels turned. The way ahead was clear. Houses flew past in the darkness, huge shapes probably holding families of dead, cold horrific approximations of their former selves. The cars thinned. The trees increased. The way ahead was clear.
It had only been a day since we had arrived but it had seemed like a life time. After everything that had happened, we had finally left the town.
Around ten minutes outside of town I spotted a country road to our right, so I turned into it. The dead were few and far between on the main road but still too frequent for comfort. When we had driven for a few minutes on a stretch of hedge lined country road, I pulled up so we could assess the damage. I turned off the engine and gave Eliza a quick nod, which she returned to show she was fine, even though she still seemed a little shaken, perhaps from the harrowing escape or perhaps it was simply fatigue. It could have been any number of things, we had all been under a huge amount of physical and mental stress. She opened the passenger door and got out, walking around for a few moments before leaning over with her hands on her thighs, obviously trying to gather herself for the journey ahead. This was only a quick respite before we continued. It was virtually pitch black out here, the only light being the remaining headlight which cast a pale cone ahead of us.
I turned a little in my seat, flicking the switch on the light in the roof, which mercifully came on. Ciaran blinked a few times, holding his hand up to shield his eyes.
“There's a torch in one of the pockets of that rucksack, pass it here,” I said, glancing at Arthur and Juliet. After the initially rough exit out of town the road had been smooth and both were now asleep, folded over each other in a sorrowful companionship. It reminded me briefly of how we three had slept wrapped around Perdita, protecting her, only... what... four days ago? How quickly things changed. I couldn't face her any more, couldn't bear to see her eyes, that mouth, the emptiness.
Ciaran rummaged around for a few moments before finding the torch and passing it over to me. He still looked cowed but not broken. There was a little life there.
I got out and flicked on the torch, casting it around briefly to double check we were safe. The hedges were high on either side, easily over head height, and the road was straight both ways before running into darkness beyond the reach of our lights. There were no houses nearby and the dead seemed to keep to the places that they had previously frequented before they had died, so it looked like we were safe, for now.
As I skirted the car I checked the tyres and bumper, before popping the bonnet and inspecting the engine. All in all, it could have been worse. The bumper was almost falling off, scraping along the tarmac. I had no way of securing it so I gave it a tug, pulling it off with a metallic snap and tossing it into a grassy ditch to our side. The tyres seemed fine, if very bloody. The bonnet was buckled and bent in many places but had done its job, protecting the engine from damage. Whether we had enough petrol was a different matter, as when I checked the fuel gauge we were only just above the red. I thought about waking Arthur and asking how much mileage we could expect to get out of it but then I realised it didn't matter. We'd either find some petrol or somewhere to stay, or we wouldn't. It was as bleak and simple as that.
I tentatively touched Eliza on the elbow, and dipped my head towards the car. She nodded and we got back in, ready to continue. No rest, not yet.
The engine thankfully fired up without a problem and I drove us onwards into the night, one light to guide the way.
I'm not sure how long we drove before the needle started to dip into the red, maybe only half an hour. The road had branched a few times but I had tried to keep to the smaller branches, keeping as far from the remains of civilisation as possible. When I spotted an empty car park next to a large wooded area, little more than a large patch of open earth with a couple of picnic benches on its periphery,
I pulled the car into it, circling the car park once in first gear to cast the headlight around the trees in the hope of pulling out any dead that may have been lurking in the foliage. When it became clear that the car park was safe, I reversed backwards towards a low wooden fence, making sure the car was facing the road in case we needed to make a hasty getaway, though how far we’d get on the remaining fumes was debatable. All we could hope for really was a head start.
As I stepped out of the car, my boots crunching on curled dead leaves, I breathed deeply. It was a strange feeling that took me back to my time on the island. Out here, isolated and alone, the air was clear. I had become so used to the sickly sweet smell of decomposition that I hadn't even noticed it was in the car, emanating from Hannah's body, until the crisp breeze had driven it from my nostrils. This was a good place to rest.
I opened the back door and let Ciaran out, as he had seemed reluctant to do anything to disturb the uneasy equilibrium that we had formed, even something as small as walking around without permission. I opened Arthur's door also, even though he and Juliet still slept, just to clear the car of the stench. The cool breeze that was moving through the trees ruffled Arthur's white hair. If I'd been spiritual, I may have believed it was Dorothy's hand from beyond the grave... although – as I had to remind myself – as of yet she wasn't in a grave.
After a quiet discussion with Eliza on our plan of action we decided to pitch the small tent I had carried in the rucksack all the way from her shop and keep the bodies in it overnight. That way we could sleep in the car and still be able to afford ourselves a little protection. Even if the hole in the windscreen was a weakness, the glass was still more sturdy than cloth.
When we had erected the tent in the grassy area beyond the fence, Ciaran and I moved the bodies as carefully as we could whilst Eliza cooked up some food from the tins I had left, heating then up individually in the folding pan before tipping them back into their tins when hot. We were making a fair amount of noise and casting our torches around to such an extent that the small blue flame of the camping stove was hardly going to cause us more of a danger. We laid the bodies out as reverentially as we could, ready to dig the shallow graves in the sunrise of the next day, although what we were going to use for the task was beyond me. We had thought of waking Arthur and Juliet to join us for the food but they were in such a deep sleep we thought it would be better for them to rest up and eat in the morning.
Heal the Sick, Raise the Dead Page 18
