His eyes began to fill as he began thinking about his school pals. It was the middle of June and he was due to go back in September to start fourth year. It was never going to happen now. He wasn't sure he'd be around for his fifteenth birthday either.
He released a deflated sigh and opened his eyes, allowing the tears to spill out.
He slowly stood to his feet and began to brush himself down. He heard the sound of steps in front of him and went further in to make sure he wasn't spotted. He took one last glance over his shoulder and began to gently jog through the trees. He could see ahead of him and wasn't concerned of bumping into any Runners.
He didn't know the length of the wooded area, he knew it wasn't late, and his pace began to decrease once his eyes clocked something up ahead.
It was a cabin.
Chapter Twelve
Marvin and Lloyd looked on in shock as the banging continued behind the door on the next level of the supermarket. By the time they had made a decision to flee back into the jeep outside, the door gave way and a gang of Runners, all dressed in blue staff attire belonging to the supermarket, ran out and snarled as most had spotted Marvin and Lloyd looking up from the ground floor.
The infected went across the landing, heading for the defunct escalator to get to the ground floor, but some, four in all, jumped over the railings and went for a quicker route: a twenty foot drop to the ground floor.
All four landed awkwardly and two out of the four suddenly stood up and ran at Marvin and Lloyd. Aware that there were more running down the escalator, Lloyd yelled to Marvin, “Sort these two out and then fucking hide!”
Lloyd took a step back and brought the crowbar behind his head. The two Runners were getting closer and snarled before reaching out to grab the pair of them. Lloyd struck out with the bar, putting one down, and Marvin stabbed at the head of the remaining one.
Marvin cried out as they both fell to the floor, with Marvin underneath and the Runner on top of him, and frantically searched for his knife that he thought he had lost, not realising that it was embedded in the Runner’s head.
“It's dead,” Lloyd told his brother, and pulled the Runner off of him.
Marvin could see that his knife was sticking out of the side of the infected being's head and pulled it out.
“Hurry.” Lloyd grabbed his brother and both began to run away. “The rest of them are coming.”
The two men ran out of the aisle and went further down. Marvin had no idea where they were going and followed Lloyd. At first, he thought that Lloyd was going to try his luck and head outside for the jeep, but they went down another aisle, the freezer section, and Lloyd looked inside some of them and lifted the lid on one of the empty defunct freezers and climbed inside, urging Marvin to join him. Once Marvin did, they could hear the Runners going by them a few seconds later. Lloyd peered out as he saw them heading towards the exit, heading outside. Lloyd slammed the lid shut above him.
“They’ve left,” announced Lloyd.
“Thank fuck this place has been raided by the locals,” Marvin said. “Otherwise, if these freezers were still full, we'd be dead meat by now. Or at least infected.”
Lloyd never responded and Marvin could see that his little brother was bemused by something.
“Lloyd, what is it?” Marvin asked.
Lloyd shook his head. “Four of them jumped to the ground floor, but only two of those things got to their feet. Why is that?”
“Who cares?” said Marvin. “I'm more concerned about the other ten that came out of the staff room. Are you sure all of them have gone?”
“Pretty much.”
“I think the supermarket was a bad idea.”
“You think?” Lloyd laughed. “We should be happy with what we got from the kiosk. I think we should go outside and just go back to the caravan site.”
“I'm up for that.”
“Better leave it for a few more minutes, just in case they come back.”
Marvin agreed and both men sat in silence, the seconds dragging. A couple of quiet minutes had passed and Lloyd gently and slowly pushed the lid above him and peered down the aisle to see if the coast was clear.
Marvin said to Lloyd, “I'll go out and check.”
“I'll come with you, man,” Lloyd insisted.
“Don't bother. You have the keys to the jeep, and if I get attacked nobody's going to miss me. You have Junior to think about.”
Lloyd was taken aback by Marvin's little speech and his unusual selfless attitude. “Er ... okay.”
Marvin crept out of the freezer and pulled out his knife as soon as he was standing up in the aisle. He walked slowly down the aisle and peered to the left and right once he was at the bottom. It appeared to be clear, and although Marvin couldn't see behind the other aisles, he was certain that the Runners that had left the building had gone for good.
Marvin could see that the two Runners that had jumped over the railings and had never got up, were still on the floor. One was moving, almost crawling along the floor, but the other remained motionless.
Marvin strolled over to the two bodies, looking down the aisles he was passing as he was doing this, and went over to the one that was crawling. He looked at how disfigured the legs were and realised why this infected being never got to its feet when the four of them jumped over. Its legs were broken.
Marvin could see that the crawling infected being was female, dressed in blue attire. She turned around on her back, eyes wide and red with rage and tried desperately to grab at Marvin. Her broken legs were preventing her to get to her feet, but she was certainly trying. Marvin laughed at her and crouched down.
He looked at her badge that was pinned on the left side of her shirt. Helen Mannering: Sales Assistant. “I'm sorry, Mrs Mannering, but it's lights out for you, sugar tits.”
Marvin grabbed the woman by the throat and stuck the blade through the shirt and into the woman's heart. He twisted the knife and watched as the infected human eventually stopped moving.
Marvin Dickinson took the knife out and stood up. With blood still dripping off the blade, he went over to the motionless one on the floor. He slowly went to his knees and had a look at the male thirty-something. He was dead. Marvin grabbed his head and realised that the Runner had broken its neck when it made impact on the floor.
These things were certainly fearless, but they still died like everybody else. They were still human.
Marvin walked away from the two bodies and headed over to the glass window, near the checkout area that looked out onto the car park. He could see the backs of the other ten Runners from the staff room many yards away. They were running away from the supermarket and heading to a football field.
“Good,” Marvin mumbled. “You fuckers keep running.”
He moved away from the window and headed for the freezer section, ready to tell Lloyd the good news.
Marvin lifted the lid and told Lloyd to get out.
“Is it safe?” Lloyd asked.
“Certainly is,” said Marvin. “Saw the rest of them heading away from the supermarket.”
Lloyd climbed out and said, “I think we should cut our losses and just get the fuck out.”
“What about the trolleys that we began filling up with the tins?”
“We'll take them, but that's it. If they come back, or more come...”
Marvin agreed. “It was a close call.”
The two men went back to the aisle where they had started, and grabbed the trolleys. Lloyd placed his crowbar inside the trolley, on top of the tins, and both men pushed them outside and emptied them into the boot of the Hyundai jeep.
Lloyd was the first to get inside the vehicle and Marvin was about to join him, but he became distracted and could see a lone female Runner, dressed in sportswear, sprinting over to Marvin.
“Marvin!” Lloyd yelled from the driver's side, window wound down. “Just get fucking in, man.”
“It's alright. I can take it.”
Marvin gulped as it quickl
y approached, and the middle-aged man stuck his blade into her abdomen as soon as he was close enough. Despite the wound, she grabbed Marvin and they both fell to the floor.
The knife was still sticking out of her abdomen and Marvin tried to grab the handle of the blade and had his other hand around her throat so that he wouldn't get bitten. He found the handle and tried to push it in further, then gave it a twist. The female Runner was weakening and eventually fell on top of Marvin, motionless.
He pushed the thing off of him and flipped her over onto her back. She was dead.
He looked down at the poor thing and could hear Lloyd getting out of the vehicle.
“Damn shame.” Lloyd said, and stood next to his brother. “A pretty thing as well.”
Marvin crouched down to get a better look, and nodded in agreement to Lloyd's statement. “She sure was.”
The female had blonde hair, tied back in a ponytail, and despite being infected, it was clear that she was a beautiful thing, no older than eighteen.
“Let's go, Marvin,” suggested Lloyd and took one last look at the poor girl that looked young enough to be his daughter. “What a waste.” Lloyd then went back inside and fired the engine.
“I totally agree,” said Marvin. He took a quick look behind to make sure that Lloyd was in the jeep, and then slipped his right hand under the girl's T-shirt, under her bra, and began to fondle her breast, giving him a twinge in his groin area. “A complete waste.”
Although dying to touch himself, Marvin removed his hand and headed for the vehicle. If he had been alone, he would have had some fun.
Chapter Thirteen
Gordon entered the living room of the stone house, holding three mugs of tea and clearly struggling. He had spilled some of the hot substance on the way there, and now he was wincing with pain as the heat from the cups began to burn his fingers.
He placed the mugs on the floor, one by the old man who had introduced himself as Walter Grey. The other two mugs of tea were placed near the couch where Joan and Gordon were sitting.
Walter bent over, groaning as he did this, and picked up the mug of tea. He slurped the hot liquid and screwed his face.
“Jesus Christ,” Walter moaned. “That's the worst cup of tea I've ever tasted. Did you piss in this?”
Joan bit her lip and found the cantankerous old man rather amusing.
“No, I didn't piss in it,” said Gordon. “That would be just silly now, wouldn't it?”
“Are you sure?” The old man glared at the mug and then leaned over and gave it a sniff. “It smells like my wife's cunt. And that bitch hardly ever showered.”
Joan placed her hand over her mouth in shock, unsure whether to laugh or be outraged. This wasn't the type of language she'd expect to come out of the mouth of an old man. An astonished Gordon simply glared at the man and couldn't believe what he was hearing.
Gordon cleared his throat and asked Walter, “So, are you alone? Is your wife here?”
“No, no. No wife.” Walter took a slurp of the tea, despite slating the taste of it earlier, then placed it on the floor. “She's dead. The big C.”
“Cancer?” asked Gordon.
“No, she drowned … in the big sea,” Walter half-laughed. “Of course it was cancer, you daft prick.”
“My aunt died of cancer.” Joan smiled thinly at Walter, sympathising with the man. “I suppose near the end it's kind of a relief when they eventually go.”
“Oh, I was relieved alright,” Walter spoke with his gruff voice. “She did nothing but fucking moan all the way through to the end. As soon as she kicked the bucket I got out the party poppers.”
“Wow.” Gordon had no idea how to respond to Walter's comment, but added a sarcastic remark. “You two must have been like a real life Romeo and Juliet.”
“You take the piss all you want,” Walter snarled. “Being married for that long is a fucking death sentence. And when you hit your fifties, you can't be arsed to get a divorce. All that splitting up and moving house ... who can be bothered with that?”
“You must have loved her once,” Joan said, convinced that the man was all talk and not as hard as he was making out.
“I quite liked fucking her,” he said. “But when you’re ten years into a marriage, you may as well be castrated, frigid slag. Hardly used my cock in my forties, apart from when I needed to stir my tea.”
Trying to change the subject from doomed marriages, Gordon asked Walter about the infection, the beginning, and what was it like.
Walter shifted in his seat uncomfortably and paused for thought. His face developed into a sombre one and he coughed and cleared his throat before beginning.
“It was a bad few days,” he said. “I heard what was happening through the radio.”
Gordon looked over behind Walter's shoulder, and could see an old radio behind him. He couldn't see a television of any sort.
“I don't have one.” Walter smiled at Gordon, knowing that he was looking for a TV. “I don't like tellys. Never have done.”
“Oh, right,” Gordon said.
“Anyway,” Walter tried to continue the story. “I heard what was happening, but I thought it was some kind of programme, you know, like the War of the Worlds programme that was broadcasted in America in 1938 and people thought it was real. But this was real. I spent most of my time sitting by the window and staring at the road. Sure, I saw some activity. I saw those ... Runners, I think the radio called them, going along the road, thankfully passing my house. I knew it was them because I could hear them snarling, and some of them had blood down their chin as if they had bitten some poor bastard. And that was it.” Walter shrugged his shoulders. “Hardly seen any since.”
“That's it?” Gordon snickered, “Jesus, you've had it easy. You want to hear what we've had to go through to reach this place. We had to go through hell.”
“What's this, a fucking competition or something?” Walter snarled at Gordon and clearly didn't like him. “Okay, you win. Now, do you want me to suck your cock?”
“Okay, okay. Touchy.” Gordon picked his tea up and took a gulp. Walter had a point. The tea was rotten.
“So what are you going to do now, Walter?” Joan asked the old man.
“I don't know,” the old man groaned. “Do what I've been doing for the last couple of weeks.”
“But what about food?”
“I'm running out,” the old man snarled and added, “It's down to tea and biscuits for me. I think I have a few tins of beans in the cupboard somewhere. Had to eat all the dairy stuff first, before it went off.”
“And when the biscuits are finished?”
“I don't fucking know,” he snapped. “Eat my own shite? I get a visit from a wild cat every morning, maybe I'll catch and kill the cunt and eat the damn thing. A man has to survive.”
“Well...” Joan began.
Gordon gave her a stern look as if he knew what she was going to say. He very lightly shook his head at her whilst glaring, and this had been spotted by Walter Grey.
“Relax, George,” Walter said with a chuckle. “I wouldn't go back with you guys if you begged me. If I end up getting infected or if I die from starvation, then so be it.”
“I didn't mean anything by it,” Gordon tried to explain. “And by the way, my name is Gordon, not George.”
“Whatever.”
Walter took another slurp of tea and Joan was getting agitated. Sitting down meant they weren't looking for Junior.
“We'll have these drinks,” she said, “and then we'll go. Hopefully Junior will be back at the caravan.”
“Is that the boy that's missing?” asked Walter.
Both Gordon and Joan nodded.
“I'd be giving that little cunt a slap, if I was you.”
“Anyway.” Joan stood to her feet. “I think it's best if we go now. The longer we stay here—”
“You're not gonna stay for a bit longer?” Walter seemed to be less aggressive and even hoping that they would stay for a few minutes more.
“Probably not a good idea,” said Gordon, and also rose to his feet. “We need to find Junior.”
“I've got biscuits. Chocolate ones.”
Walter's announcement seemed to have made Gordon and Joan pause, then the pair of them looked at one another, now unsure whether to leave or not.
“What kind have you got?”
“Hob Nobs.”
“Maybe we could stay for a few more minutes,” Gordon said with a smile.
“Good lad,” Walter said.
“Now, be a good boy and go and get them from the kitchen cupboard. It's the one above the kettle.”
Gordon said in surprise, “You want me to go?”
“I'm not your fucking waiter.” Walter began to laugh and gave Gordon a playful wink. “I'm an old man and you're a fine and fit specimen of a man.”
“Manipulator,” Gordon said in jest and did what he was told.
*
Junior Dickinson made his way over to the cabin and was unsure whether to go inside or not. What if there were people in there? If there wasn’t, where were they and who had built this thing in the first place? What was it for? A retreat?
Junior could see no door and no windows either, and knew he was at the side of the place. He walked to the left of the building, stepping through the bracken, and could now see the front of the cabin. It was a bit rundown looking, and didn't look as good as the one they stayed in last week, the night before they came across the village of Blanchland.
Junior stepped on the wooden porch of the cabin and tried to look inside the windows, but they were so dirty that it was impossible to see anything. He made careful steps to the door and was unsure whether to knock it or just walk straight in.
He placed his hand on the knob and gave it a twist, then gently pushed the door open.
He took in a deep breath and peered inside the dark place. The place was in a bit of a mess, and if it had been furnished in the past, it certainly wasn't now. The place look liked it had been ransacked. There wasn't a chair in sight, no furniture and anything to drink or eat. Whoever owned this place had come here and took everything. Maybe they did this in the first week.
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