‘Hiyaaa!’ another head popped up.
‘What?’ I could feel my ears getting hotter and a knot twisting in my stomach.
‘An actuary. His wife Janet, I don’t know what she does, got sick yesterday with this thing and he was up all night looking after her. He fainted a while ago.’
‘We don’t have air conditioning.’ Susie pointed out unnecessarily. I was dripping with sweat. ‘Fucker scratched me. Dirty old man, he could see right up my skirt from down there.’
‘I don’t think that’s what he was doing Susie,’ Lou sounded like she’d had enough of Susie for today.
‘So he’s been with an infected person all night,’ I rubbed my temples, ‘and now he’s collapsed and he’s possibly infected young Susie here.’
‘Young? I’m twenty-one,’ Susie sneered at me.
‘Oh let me guess, you think they’ll all turn into zombies? You’re a big boy now.’ Lou scoffed. ‘Give it up.’
‘Anyway, what about your car chum?’ Al intercepted wisely, alert to the warning signs of our spectacular tussles. Lou being sarcastic about my core values – it was a tinderbox.
‘Gone.’ she said. ‘There was just smashed glass where it was. It’s alright, it’s insured. It’s just a pain in the arse.’
‘The paedo’s woken up again.’ Susie said glibly as she turned to Lou.
‘You’re twenty-one you silly little twat, just shut your gloss-caked gob for one minute.’ Susie did as she was told.
I bounced after my wife like a puppy as she strolled over to a far cubicle, where a thin grey man with a shiny bald patch sat on the floor groaning, chin to his chest. He was wearing a sodden short-sleeved shirt and, rather bizarrely, cycling shorts.
‘I’ve got a splitting headache,’ Clive said meekly. ‘Can I have some more water please? I think I lost my balance,’ he looked up, squinting against the light.
Susie looked as if she might pipe up again, but Clive’s head lolled forward. Lou bent down with a paper cone of water.
‘Clive!’ Lou was supporting his head. I wondered if she was as tempted as I was to begin slapping his cheeks. He was breathing heavily, and the sweat beaded on his gleaming dome. Lou looked at Susie.
‘Can you get me some paper towels please Susie?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, and I’m getting security too. Fucker. Sorry, not you Lou,’ she added as she headed for the doors.
It was too late for paper towels anyway. Clive hawked a string of black snot onto his shirt.
‘Oh, shit. Hurry.’
More came, faster. It was vomit.
‘That stinks.’ Lou stood, holding the back of her hand to her nose. ‘Eggs.’
As she checked her pencil skirt for splatters, I watched Clive lift his head slowly. He was gurning, his eyes watery. He bared his teeth, his eyes rolled back into their sockets, and then he fainted again.
‘Look, Lou,’ Al sounded weary. ‘I know Clive’s your colleague and that, and there’s no-one else here except Abbot and Costello on the front desk, but I have to leave - I’ve got people to get back to. And Dmitri, but he is kind of a person. But I’m hot and I don’t want to get back any later than I have to. The traffic’s just going to get worse.’
‘I’m getting the creeps too, Sweetpea.’
‘I’m not getting the creeps.’ Al said firmly. ‘I just want to get back.’
Lou stood up.
‘Alright. Do you think Clive will be okay?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know much about rabies,’ Al said. ‘I think it’s pretty serious.’
‘Rabies? Who said it was rabies?’ Lou asked.
‘I said it was rabies. It makes sense, getting all bitey and that. I think you get feverish too and, well that’s almost foaming at the mouth,’ he offered, gesturing to the pool of black mucus Clive had eagerly produced.
‘Well, it makes more sense than 28 Days Later,’ Lou muttered.
‘Night of the Living Dead, if we’re being technical,’ I turned to Al. ‘28 Days Later was rubbish, plus they weren’t actually dead.’ Lou and Al just looked at me, as if waiting for more. Then we heard a sharp crack echoing around the stairwell, and the fat guard swearing as we ran to the doors. We saw him kneeling, cradling Susie’s head.
‘She just fell to the floor. Lucky I caught her,’ he wheezed, nodding down the stairs.
‘Get her in the recovery position,’ Lou ordered as she put Susie in the recovery position herself. Susie rasped a phlegm-laden cough, and I scanned the back of her legs where Clive had grabbed her, without getting too close. The inch-long scratch was white and puffy with an angry red circumference, like a long, fresh mosquito bite.
‘She’s really hot.’ Lou wafted Susie’s top. ‘Can you get me some water? The cooler’s at the back.’
Al seemed impatient at the hold-up and keen not to reverse the small progress we’d already made. It seemed that I was on my own for this one, so I reluctantly turned to face the doors back into the office. This is it, I thought - this is where you get bitten. This is the bit in the movies where only the worst kind of bit-part idiot would double back on himself… and for what? Fetching water for a doomed girl - typical.
‘You’ll get bitten,’ I muttered to myself, ‘your wife and your best friend will try to look after you, and then you’ll infect them.’
‘What? Get some water, you fucking arse,’ Lou snapped, ‘and grab Susie’s handbag, the one on the chair.’
I considered pointing out my lack of handbag-recognition skills, but my throat felt like it was swelling up. The fact that I almost certainly wouldn’t get fully eaten was no comfort, although I’ll admit I did have a wealth of battle apparatus to improvise with from pot plants to chairs, but Health and Safety legislation had no doubt ensured there was nothing I could lop a head off with in a modern office.
I chanted the words ‘there’s only one of them’ very quietly as I put my hand on the swing doors. There it was – the word ‘them’. The opposite of us. Reaching that stage would be a struggle for every survivor I would meet, but it came quickly to me. I say I was unprepared for that day, but my ability to de-humanise was half the battle.
‘Come on, I’ll show you where it is,’ Fatboy pushed past me through the doors, making me jump. ‘I’ll get the first aid kit too, see to Clive first.’ He held a door open for me.
‘First aid. Right.’ I said, peering inside. There were two of us now. Good. And he’s fatter than me. Good. Slower, and meatier. I could hear Susie moaning softly as Lou sat her up, pushing damp strands from her pasty forehead.
‘Can you take me home please?’ Susie was tearful and snotty.
‘She only lives in Crawley. Is that alright Al?’ Lou asked, helping Susie to stand.
‘No, no, no, no, no! You’ve got to be…’ I began, but Al cut me off.
‘Sure, I’ve got room in the back, but let’s go now though.’
‘But she’s a…’
Lou shut me up with her icicle eyes. ‘Water?’ she said through thinned lips.
‘Okay, you lot take her home,’ Fatboy said. ‘I’ll look after Clive. I’m a bit rusty but I think John’s done his first aid this year.’
‘That sounds like an offer we want to take him up on. I’ll get the water.’ I followed him into the office to the cubicles at the back as he pointed me to the water cooler and opened the doors to a cupboard. I started to pour a cone of water, but I saw two full bottles stacked up in the corner just past Clive’s cubicle. The guard’s back was to me, so I tiptoed up to the foetal Clive. I tried not to look, but I couldn’t help myself. Tiny yellow pin-prick blisters had broken out around his grey-blue nose and in the corners of his mouth. It didn’t look like he was breathing. I grabbed one of the water bottles – it was heavier than it looked – and tiptoed back. Clive gurgled moistly.
‘Here we go,’ Fatboy said (to himself I hoped), as he pulled out a laminated flow-chart. ‘Now let’s have a look at you, matey-boy!’
‘Cheers then,’ I said as cheerfully a
s I could muster. I had turned my back to the guard, holding the bottle in front of me so he couldn’t see it.
‘Mind how you go, then.’ he said.
‘I will,’ I was almost running for the door. I grabbed the only handbag I could see - it seemed to be in the right scale for the small Susie, who was now on her feet and leaning on Lou as I burst onto the stairwell.
‘I’m alright.’ I announced.
Progress was slow except for Al, who was jumping the last few steps on each level. How could it be getting hotter? I had to keep swapping the bottle from arm to arm. Susie stumbled, nearly pulling Lou down with her, so Al stopped and came back up the stairs to hold her other arm. In the foyer the younger guard was on his radio. He held his hand up, nodded a ‘hello’ to Lou and pointed at the closed front doors. Half a dozen dark silhouettes were pressed against the glass, and there was distinct shuffling.
‘Graham. John. Yeah we’ve got some people trying to force entry. I have secured the doors. We have a lock-down, over.’
‘Keep them locked, they’ll be looters,’ the radio crackled. ‘I’ll be down in a minute. Clive Cocker’s not well but he has come round again, over.’
‘There’s the stairs to the car park.’ Lou pointed to an archway off the foyer.
‘Looters,’ I muttered, looking over to the entrance. ‘They couldn’t loot an open grave.’
‘Err, John?’ the radio hissed. ‘Can you come up here a minute?’
The young guard hesitated, looked at us, and then walked to the stairwell.
‘Can you lot stay here for a bit?’
Al grinned and nodded enthusiastically. Lou looked at me, but I didn’t give her time to think about staying anywhere for a bit and when John was out of sight I pulled her and Susie toward the car park stairs. We headed down and it was cool. Susie had now started walking under her own steam, and Lou watched her navigate the first few steps.
‘Floyd’s in the car,’ I said. Lou didn’t reply – she was still being a bit eggy with me – but I knew she’d be pleased I’d brought him with us. Someone was missing.
‘Where’s Al?’
‘He was with us in the lobby.’ Lou said.
‘Okay, look. Wait here. Shout if… well, just shout.’ I said, turning back up the stairs.
‘We’ll go down, you follow us.’
‘No babe, I don’t know the way. Please?’
‘There is only one way – down,’ she said, smiling.
‘For fuck’s sake woman, just wait here!’ I stuttered. ‘Look, please just shout if you see anything.’
I climbed the stairs again, and slowly opened the door to the lobby a crack. It was deserted, so I tiptoed out. There were now double the number of people at the glass front doors than a few minutes before; enough now so you couldn’t see light between the bodies. I was just about to call Al’s name when there was a noise to my right, from a door behind the reception desk. I froze, holding my breath. My heart was beginning to make my head throb as Al appeared in the doorway with a grin across his chops and an armful of radios in a charging rack. The plug trailed behind him.
‘You resourceful little beggar!’ I exhaled, proud as a dad on sports day.
‘Radios.’ He was pleased with himself too.
I held the door to the stairs open for Al as he made his way across the foyer, glancing towards the front doors. No-one was trying to force entry. They were all just standing there, facing in. Al squeezed past me, and we started down the fresh air of the stairs. It was pleasant to be in some underground car park stairs that didn’t smell of piss for a change. I called for Lou, and to my relief she replied. She looked at Al and the radios.
‘What are they?’
‘Radios,’ Al said.
‘I can see that. Why have you taken them?’ she probed.
‘Because they’ll be useful,’ he said simply. I saw a sign by a door.
‘This says level two. We parked on level three. We’ve come too far.’
‘There isn’t a level three,’ Lou explained. Of course there wasn’t – why would there be? Al pushed the door open to the echoing sound of a dog howling for England. Our beagle. Lou forced past me and into the gloom of the car park. I saw her face drop. Peering into Al’s car was the kid with the hoodie and the headphones.
‘Oi, Asboy!’ Al shouted. The kid didn’t move. My eyes were starting to get used to the light, but I could barely make out his features. Al had set the radios down and was strutting towards the young man.
‘Oi, Workhouse!’ he yelled again, louder. I’d honestly never heard him shout before. The kid stood up straight. He looked at Al, cocked his head slightly, and started ambling towards us. I almost breathed a sigh of relief that he was walking normally, but I was starting to make out swollen blisters that cut across his pale cheeks, under his nose and around his slack mouth. Floyd had stopped barking and was now wagging his tail enthusiastically at the sight of us.
‘Dude you stink!’ Al said as the youth came closer. ‘Ooh, you’re not right. You’re all messed up.’ He started to back away but the lad bared his teeth, so Al thumped him soundly on the nose which sent him spinning to the ground. He was sprawled out awkwardly, his chest heaving a bubbling wheeze as Al blipped the Audi’s central locking, jumped over the kid and up to the car, waggling his right hand like it was hot before opening the door. Sitting low he turned to say something to Floyd who was bouncing about in the boot. Then he started the car, fired up a little stub of a joint from the ashtray, and looked at us.
‘Come on then!’
Lou pulled Susie towards the car as I called ‘shotgun’. They were soon in the back seat.
‘Come on, for fuck’s sakes!’ Al revved, Floyd barked, Lou beckoned furiously at me.
The kid got up, and I drew a sharp breath. His eyes were dead, but his chest still gave off a bubbling sound. I was frozen. A childhood nightmare flashed in front of me; my feet sticking to the pavement as my mum and brother walked ahead. As they get further away, I am screaming but no sound comes out. They are soon too far down the street to hear anyway. I look to my right, to a high red-brick wall stretching as far up as the clouds. There is just one window, at head height right where I am stuck. Through it I see a stuffed owl perched on a branch, dead leaves scattered around. I hear huge, booming footsteps behind me. That’s when I would wake up, damp and tearful, scared to call out in case nothing came out of my mouth.
I found myself standing breathlessly next to Al’s car, the door handle in my grip, water bottle under one arm. I got in, blinking. The lad was still facing the spot where I had been standing. Al gunned the engine and roared past him towards the exit, then stopped the car and turned to me.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Lou screeched. ‘He’s coming!’
‘Grab the radios chum,’ he jabbed his finger at my door. I looked out of my window – he could have got a bit closer.
‘Fucking hell, they’re miles away.’
‘Well, you should get a move on, then,’ Al grinned. I flung the door open, and ran to the rack of radios on the ground. I couldn’t help but turn to see where the kid was, and wished I hadn’t. I ran for the car but as I approached Al moved a few metres forward and waited for me to catch up, before lurching again as I put a hand to the door. Lou found it highly amusing, but when he did it a third time, I punched his roof. He got out.
‘What the fuck was that for?’ he asked, indignantly.
‘Jesus! That’s how people get eaten! Don’t fuck about, not today.’ I got in the car and slammed the door.
‘Okay - because of all the zombies around.’ Al sat back down and slipped the car into gear.
‘Oh, and you think that kid’s got a bad case of doggie fever? Do me a lemon.’ The radios were pressing into my nuts.
‘Did you see him baring his teeth at me? Rabies or not, that’s just rude,’ Al said as we roared up the ramp to ground level, and back into the daylight.
‘Is that a Highland insult, or just in the new towns?’ I
asked, still miffed.
‘Did you smell the eggs?’ Lou leaned forward.
‘The same as that old boy in my street,’ I said.
‘I thought Clive just had bad guts. How many people have you seen like that?’ Lou said, sitting back and reaching through the grille to Floyd. ‘Oh, sorry Al, he’s having a little piss in your boot.’
‘There’s loads of them,’ I said grimly. ‘You’ll see in a minute.’
I glanced at the building as we drove past the front entrance, and saw the huddle of motionless figures gathered around the door. Most were wearing smart clothes – ties and shirts and pencil skirts - but dusty, bloodstained or torn. Some turned to face the car.
‘Oh my God, that’s Dean,’ I heard Lou say.
‘Dean’s nice. I’m tired.’ Susie yawned, oblivious.
It had all got a lot more hectic outside. We crawled across town as the traffic built up around us, sometimes forcing us onto the pavements. Lou was silent. We saw frenzied struggles in thick queues and fist-fights around dented cars - and still the sun bleached everything around us ash-white. More shops had been looted, and inside them we could see dim flames picking out the silhouettes of aisles and trolleys and people. Our route was blocked in several places by lines of blazing cars, as fuel tanks sparked and spat their flames about them. Al motored on, picking his way through the debris on the wide roads. Susie had her eyes closed; her head slumped against the window. Finally Lou spoke.
‘We said we’d drop Susie off, but I don’t know whereabouts she lives.’
‘She’s been out for a while now,’ I said. ‘Shouldn’t we just drop her off at the medical tent?’ I suggested. My words betrayed my real instinct, which was to shovel her head off and get going.
‘Do you really want to get out of the car and queue?’ Al asked. ‘I’m not waiting around to catch the lurgy. We’ll get her some help in Worthing or Brighton if she still needs it, they’ll be less busy down there, anyway.’ Al looked over his shoulder at her slumped figure. ‘It’s probably just the heat.’ he said, hopefully. I said nothing.
‘Are you sure, chum?’ Lou asked. ‘There’s your last chance.’
Breaking News: An Autozombiography Page 4
