Disintegration a-5

by David Moody

  “Why?” he protested with his mouth full, showering the map in chocolate and spittle. “There’s plenty left.”

  “We’ve only got one more box left in the stores,” Ginnie piped up from where she sat nearby, sewing a pair of trousers.

  “I’m not talking about what’s in here,” he explained. He pointed out of the window. “I’m talking about out there.”

  “I’m working on them, Webb, give me time,” Hollis told him. Intrigued, Webb looked down at the map.

  “Where’s this, then?” he asked, still chewing.

  “You are here,” Hollis answered, tapping his finger on the top right corner of the page.

  “So what’s here?” Webb wondered, drawing a large circle in the air above the map. “Anywhere worth going?”

  “Bromwell,” Gordon volunteered, pointing out the small town a few kilometers east of their present location.

  “So that’s where we’re heading?”

  “We’re not sure yet,” Martin quickly interrupted. “That’s what we were talking about, but no decisions have been made.”

  “Well, I’m sure,” Harte said from across the room. “Forget all this bullshit, that’s where I’m going.”

  “And that’s what bothers me.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You know exactly what I mean. I saw how you were with the Swimmer this morning. If you go out there making as much of a disturbance you’ll end up bringing thousands of bodies back here with you.”

  “Whatever,” Harte mumbled, far from interested.

  “We are going to make some noise,” Hollis said. “It’s inevitable.”

  “Yes, but I don’t think you understand how dangerous that might be.”

  “I don’t think you’ve got any idea how dangerous it might be,” Harte said, obviously annoyed. “How would you know? You haven’t been out for weeks.”

  “That’s right, and we’ve done perfectly well so far. I’m starting to think we should just delay this and see how long we can last.”

  “But there isn’t enough food,” Harte sighed.

  “You’re right,” Martin agreed, “but there is some food. If we ration ourselves properly we could make it last for a while. Then when we do leave here the bodies will be weaker.”

  “And so would we,” he protested. “Why the hell should we ration anything? Christ, we’re probably the only living people for hundreds of miles. There’s never going to be a queue at the fucking supermarket, is there?”

  “No, but—”

  “You’re out of your damn mind if you just want to sit in here and do nothing. Like we’ve already said, half a day’s effort now and a little risk will make the difference between us living like beggars or living like kings.”

  The strength of Harte’s outburst surprised the others, even those who had spent the last few weeks living with him.

  “Nicely put,” Hollis said.

  “Well I’m not going back out there,” Caron mumbled from behind the pages of one of her books. “I’d rather starve and be safe.”

  “Me too,” Ginnie agreed.

  “I’m going,” Sean said defiantly. “I’m sick of sitting here doing nothing. This isn’t living, this is just existing. We’re no better off in here than those poor bastards out there. Christ, they’ll have a better quality of life than us if we stay locked inside this bloody hotel any longer.”

  “Do you have any idea how stupid a comment that was?” Martin complained, belittling Sean and trying unsuccessfully to put him in his place.

  “Piss off!”

  “Don’t you dare use that kind of language with me.”

  “You see,” Webb interrupted, “that’s half the problem here. You’re not his fucking parents, you know.”

  “We’re looking out for him.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s all going to come to nothing if you starve to death,” Harte said, silencing the argument. Hollis rubbed his eyes and wearily looked up from the map again.

  “The way I see it,” he began, “is we don’t have enough food to last. We need to get more and I’d rather go out there now than wait until I’m half-starved. We’ve got a town just a few miles from here which has probably been left untouched. If we can get there and fill the bus, that’ll do us. Harte’s right, half a day’s effort will make a massive difference to all of us.”

  “I know that,” Martin reluctantly agreed, shaking his head sadly, “but I just—”

  “No one has to go outside if they don’t want to,” Harte continued.

  “I’m going,” Sean quickly said again, desperate to secure his place. Harte glanced up at him, then carried on speaking.

  “As long as there are enough of us then we should be fine. We’ll get in, get what we need, then get out. We’ve done this loads of times.”

  “I know you’re right,” Martin said again, his voice suddenly frightened and quiet, “but just be quiet. For Jesus Christ’s sake, be quiet. Make as little noise as you can.”

  35

  The brightness of the early afternoon belied the low temperature. The sky was clear, uninterrupted blue and the sun held a position high above the red-tiled roof of the hotel. Despite pushing to go out for supplies sooner rather than later, last-minute nerves and tiredness had combined and the planned trip out had been delayed until the next morning. Most of the group found themselves outdoors, relaxing in the relatively fresh air and enjoying the luxury of being able to spend time out in the open. It wasn’t long before the football had been found.

  “Shoot, you idiot!” Jas yelled at Harte, who’d just dribbled the ball between Webb’s legs and now had a clear shot at goal. Sean waited on the goal line, trying to guess which way he needed to dive.

  “I’ve got him!” shouted Amir, sprinting toward Harte, ready to throw himself at the ball. Aware that he was there, Harte waited until the last possible second, then sold him a dummy, flicked the ball a couple of feet to his right, lined up his shot, and blasted the ball at Sean. To his credit Sean moved in the right direction. He just managed to touch the ball with outstretched fingers, but only succeeded in deflecting it into the corner of the goal he was defending.

  “You’re fucking useless!” Webb screamed across the makeshift pitch. “What are you playing at?”

  Dejected, Sean dropped his head and jogged after the ball. He picked it up and booted it back into play. The sun was in his eyes and he sliced the ball off the side of his foot, sending it bouncing over the boundary fence, right over the road and onto the golf course.

  “Sorry,” he whined.

  “You jerk,” Webb yelled. “You complete fucking jerk. What did you do that for?”

  “It was an accident.”

  “You can go and get it!” Jas joked, a wide grin on his face. “Don’t worry about it, mate. We’ll get another one tomorrow.”

  “You never know, they might throw it back!” Harte laughed, his mind filling with images of dead bodies playing football across the road. “I can see it now, there’s bound to be a few of them that—”

  “What’s the matter?” Amir asked anxiously, unnerved by the way he’d suddenly stopped talking.

  “Shh…” Harte said, lifting his finger to his lips and looking up. “Listen.”

  “What?” Webb demanded.

  “The helicopter,” Amir said, spinning around and scanning the skies. “It’s back.”

  “Where?”

  “There!” he said excitedly, pointing up into the distance.

  “Is it the same one you saw before?” wondered Jas.

  “Think so,” Amir replied, following the flight of the machine through the air. It seemed a little closer today than it had been when they’d seen it previously. Maybe the pilot had seen them, he allowed himself to dream. Perhaps he’s just scouting around trying to find somewhere safe to land?

  Martin, Hollis, Ginnie and several of the others had rushed outside.

  “How many times have you seen it now, Martin?” Hollis asked.

&
nbsp; “This is the fifth, I think,” he answered, standing on tiptoes to try and keep track of the tiny aircraft as it flew farther away.

  “And which way has it been going?”

  “Alternate directions each day.”

  “So it’s flying between two sites?”

  “Seems that way. No way of knowing for sure, but that seems likely.”

  “We’ve just got to hope it comes back again, and work out a way of making ourselves more visible.”

  “I don’t know how. I don’t want to do anything that’s going to bring the bodies back.”

  “We might have to. We might not have any choice.”

  * * *

  A handful of people remained out in the open long after the helicopter had disappeared, hoping it might return. Hollis and Caron sat together on a wooden bench at the front of the hotel and watched as Howard played with his dog. He threw a rubber toy as far away from the building as he could. The dog sprinted after it, skidding in the long grass, almost running too fast to stop. She grabbed the toy in her teeth and ran back, dropping it obediently at Howard’s feet and waiting expectantly for him to throw it again. He hurled it up into the air and watched as it dropped back down.

  “Doesn’t she ever get bored of this game?” Hollis asked.

  “No,” Howard replied, rubbing his hands to keep them warm, “but I do. I don’t mind, though. She doesn’t get enough exercise. It’s not like I can take her out for a walk or anything like that.”

  “Shame,” Caron said, shielding her eyes from the sun and looking into the distance. “all this beautiful countryside and we’re stuck here.”

  The dog returned, dropped the toy and looked up again hopefully. Growing weary, Howard stooped down, picked it up, and threw it again, this time hurling it farther than he had previously, out toward the hedgerow. The dog sprinted away at full pelt, covering almost half the distance before the toy had hit the ground.

  “Nice throw,” Hollis commented. Howard massaged his suddenly aching shoulder and cursed under his breath.

  “I’ve had enough,” he announced. “I’m going in.”

  He turned and began to walk back toward the entrance door. Caron stood up to follow him. Hollis didn’t move.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked. He was still staring out toward the hedgerow which enclosed the hotel grounds. He stood up slowly and shielded his eyes from the sun. Then, when he still couldn’t see properly, he stood on the bench. “Greg, what’s the matter?” Caron asked again.

  “Where’s the dog?”

  Howard stopped walking and turned around. His instinct was to call out but he knew that he couldn’t. Any second now, he thought, and she’ll come thundering back, her toy clamped tight between her teeth. Maybe she hadn’t found it. Perhaps it had become stuck in a tree or in the hedge? Still no sign. Hollis jumped down from the bench and began to jog across the grass. Howard was close behind.

  “Be careful,” Caron urged, her stomach suddenly knotted with nerves.

  Hollis ran up over a slight rise and then stopped. He could see the dog. She was standing perfectly still, ears pricked up.

  “What’s the matter with her?” he asked.

  “That’s not good,” Howard replied ominously. “See how she’s standing? That’s what she does when they’re near.”

  The two men continued cautiously toward the hedge. The dog hardly moved. Her ears twitched and she sniffed and turned her head momentarily as they approached, but otherwise she remained completely still. Hollis noticed that her teeth were bared. She was snarling but not making a sound.

  “Must be on the other side of the road,” he whispered. “I take it from this reaction that they don’t usually come down this far?”

  “Not seen them here for a long time,” Howard replied.

  Hollis edged closer to the boundary. Iron railings ran around the perimeter of the hotel which, over the years, had been swallowed up by thick laurel hedging. Beyond that was the road and, on the other side, the golf course, itself enclosed by another hedgerow. Despite the distance he could see flashes of movement through the mass of gnarled and twisted branches. He could see three or four bodies, maybe more. Their awkward, stumbling gait gave them away.

  “What’s brought them back?”

  Howard looked at him incredulously. Didn’t he understand? Christ, from what he’d seen Hollis was supposed to be one of the more intelligent of the new arrivals. Did he have to spell it out to him?

  “You noisy bastards,” he answered angrily, keeping the level of his voice low. “Them being here is the result of the noise you lot made when you got here yesterday and your friends playing football earlier. Now just imagine how much damage you’ll probably do when you go out again tomorrow.”

  Hollis began to walk back toward the hotel. “Two hedges, metal railings and a road,” he said. “They won’t get through. I don’t care how many of them there are, they’ll disappear again in time.”

  “You reckon?”

  He kept walking. Howard crouched down next to his dog, held her head in his hands and blew gently into her face, distracting her.

  “Come on, girl,” he said quietly, grabbing her collar and leading her away. “It’s all right.”

  36

  A long evening doing nothing, a relatively good night’s sleep, the most substantial breakfast they could muster from their dwindling reserves, and they were finally ready to move. Eight o’clock in the morning and Hollis, Harte, Jas, Webb, Lorna, Amir, and Sean prepared themselves to head into town. They climbed onto the battered bus as Driver started the engine. Jas watched him intently. What was the unkempt and increasingly insular man thinking? Did he feel as nervous as he himself did? Could he taste bile in his mouth and were his guts churning with nerves too? As he slumped into the nearest seat he couldn’t help wondering why he felt so damn uneasy this morning. As the doors closed and the bus began to move he put it down to the fact that the hotel had, unexpectedly, provided them with the most isolation they’d yet had from the nightmare world outside. And here they were, already on their way back out into the chaos and uncertainty again.

  Driver edged his clumsy vehicle slowly along the track, past the fork in the road and back down to the junction. Howard, Gordon, and Ginnie were already waiting there. Somebody had to move the vehicles to let them through and, as that job seemed considerably safer than venturing into Bromwell, Howard and Ginnie had reluctantly volunteered. Gordon, as probably the most experienced fighter remaining at the hotel, was there to mop up those few (he hoped) random corpses which managed to slip through as the bus drove out. He stood on one side of the junction, nervously swinging an ax in one hand and a crowbar in the other. He was dressed in as much protective clothing as he’d been able to find, enough to keep him safe from the germs and any slimy slugs of decaying flesh that an encounter with the dead might throw up into the air. He stood there wearing a pair of fisherman’s waders, safety goggles, and a bright yellow construction worker’s hard hat, but he didn’t care how ridiculous he looked.

  “Ready?” Ginnie shouted from behind the wheel of the coach, fighting to make herself heard over the rattle of the engine and, for once, not worrying about the volume of her voice.

  Driver acknowledged her with a simple thumbs-up and stared straight ahead as the coach began to move to the side. He inched slowly forward before increasing his speed and driving out into the middle of the deserted road junction. He stopped to give Howard a chance to pull himself up into the driver’s seat of the truck which blocked the exit they planned to use. Dog in tow, he settled into the cab and immediately peered down at the mass of bodies on the other side. There were too many to count. Not the biggest crowd he’d ever seen, but too many all the same. His hands suddenly trembling with nerves, he started the engine and waited for Driver to pull the bus closer. The dead began to thump and push against the exposed side of the vehicle. The dog sat in the passenger seat and silently snarled at them, her nostrils full of the smell of rotting flesh.
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  The truck that Howard was driving spanned the gap between a six-foot-tall brick wall ahead and another truck just behind. As the bus began to move toward him he slowly reversed.

  “Get as near as you can,” Hollis said to Driver, standing next to him at the front of the bus like a passenger waiting for the next stop. “You want to try and push as many of them back and out of the way as you can, try and stop them getting through.”

  “Thanks, I’d worked that bit out for myself,” Driver grumbled. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and nudged forward as soon as there was room for him to move. Bodies began to pour through the gap, most of them immediately being dragged down beneath the bus or shoved away by the impromptu snowplow they’d bolted to its front weeks earlier. Driver accelerated, slicing through the crowd with ease. Hollis looked over his shoulder along the length of the bus. Through the small rectangular window at the back he watched as Howard immediately shunted the truck forward again, blocking the road and preventing any more cadavers from getting through.

  “Well, that wasn’t too bad,” Harte said, relieved, standing just a little way behind Hollis and watching the rotting world rushing by through the windows on either side.

  “Nowhere near as many of them as I thought there would be. Must be Martin’s music,” Hollis admitted. “Give him his due, I thought he was off his head, but maybe not.”

  “Crazy bugger says he’s been playing music to them every day for more than a month,” he laughed. “Damn things are probably sick of it!”

  Hollis nodded and smiled, then turned to look ahead as the first buildings of the town of Bromwell loomed on the dull horizon.

  * * *

  Incredibly, just three bodies had managed to drag themselves safely through the gap and into the blockaded road junction while the truck had been out of position. All of the others had been swept up and crushed by the bus. Gordon, now feeling far less confident than he had been just a few minutes earlier, stood rooted to the spot, waiting for the first of them to get close enough to attack.

  “You okay, Gordon?” Ginnie shouted from the relative safety of the coach. The bodies were instinctively moving in her direction now, distracted by the noise of the engine and her voice. He wanted to stop them getting any closer. He liked Ginnie. She reminded him of someone he used to work with, and that unexpected familiarity, no matter how tenuous, was welcome. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard. Time to fight.