Don't Be Dead- Heartache After The Outbreak

by Paul Wilcock

  I start to turn my attention back to the petrol tank but freeze when I see Gemma, stood in the doorway of the garage, rifle pointed at my head. I duck and roll before she can fire and her shot hits air. Charging at her full pelt while she reloads I’m screaming at the top of my voice, I can’t help it, it just seems to be something that happens naturally when you charge at someone who’s trying to shoot you. I slam into her, a better tackle than I ever managed during Rugby lessons at school, just shows what motivation will do to your performance. Gemma is knocked off her feet as her lungs empty in a wheeze, she drops the rifle but sinks her teeth into my shoulder. I shove her back, slam her into the wall, she lashes out with disgusting long jagged nails, yellow and gnarled, I slam her into the wall again and punch her in the face, it really hurts my hand so I hope it hurts her face more. I pick up the rifle and smash the butt into her head. I don’t know if she’s dead or unconscious, I don’t know which I’d prefer either but there’s no time to think about that. I run back out to the forecourt and gather up the jerry cans. The noise from the fight has gotten the attention of the infected on the tree-line and they are slowly heading this way so I drop to my stomach and lower one of the cans into the tank, the petrol burns my hand where the skin has split, punching Gemma, in the face! As the can fills I look down the road towards the scavenger party, they’ve also heard the commotion and have quickened their pace towards me. Why is it taking so long for this can to fill up? A few more seconds get wasted as I waiver between filling another jerry can and taking the one I’ve just filled over to the car to start filling the tank. Filling a second can wins and I lower it into the tank. A gunshot rings out and I duck down without knowing who fired or where the bullet just went but I guess I’m out of time and I’m very conscious of the fact that I could get blown apart if a bullet hits the wrong area, I seem to have splashed a lot of petrol around and my arm is also dripping with it. With a can in each hand I run a very wobbly run back to the car, balance thrown off with each step as the petrol sloshes around in the cans leaving a dangerous trail between the tank and my car. More bullets are being fired, the window on the Capri is smashed, I can see the scavenger group now, crouching behind rubble about a hundred metres down the road, I open the boot and put the cans inside, slam the boot shut, get into the Capri from the passenger side, keeping the car between the scavenger group and me, another bullet ricochets off metal somewhere behind me, maybe off one of the pumps, luckily none of the petrol catches light but I’m starting to panic now, hands shaking too much to get the key in the ignition as I slide over onto the driver’s seat, broken glass digging into my legs. The infected from the tree-line are at the edge of the forecourt already, they got here faster than I expected, bullets are hitting the car around me, please don’t damage the engine, please don’t rupture the fuel tank and cause an explosion, please don’t hit me! I jam the key into the ignition and the engine starts first time with a roar as I floor it, wish I was in the Porsche, those extra 16.7 seconds really make a difference in situations like this. I hear another bullet ricochet off something behind me, the Whoomph as the petrol catches light, flames in the rear-view travelling in two directions, one to the tank, one after me, the back tyres catch fire, the underground tank explodes, I see an infected bounce off the front of the car as I speed away, I see another on fire staggering around, I see the petrol station burning to the ground, Gemma inside, definitely dead now, I wonder if the fire on my tyres will go out on its own if I just keep driving, I worry about the close proximity of the fire on my tyres to the jerry cans full of petrol in the boot, I wonder how cool my car looks right now with burning wheels; I keep driving, putting a safe distance between me and the scavenger group before I stop and transfer some petrol to the car’s tank.

  The fact that I’ve caused the death of two girlfriends in a matter of days lingers on my mind, Gemma was a crazy bitch though so I tell myself that I shouldn’t feel too bad, I really hope the next girl on the list has something positive to say about me as I’m feeling pretty down about myself again. “I’ve had a really bad week,” I think to myself, “really fucking bad.”

  Natalie

  Ok, so that sucked but at least I made it home and everything was as I left it and I could patch up my wounds and rest without having to worry too much about waking up dead. I stay in bed for a while thinking about the next girl on the list; Natalie. Now Natalie can't think I'm a dick, I was still kind of friends with Natalie before the outbreak, well she was a “friend” on Facebook even though we never actually spoke to each other on there, she added me if I remember right too, yes, Natalie is definitely going to be the one to put a tick in the “Not a Dick” column. I think back to how we ended; there were tears, but they were sad tears because she'd got a job in America and was moving over there, not because I'd done anything wrong. Her Facebook updates had informed me that she was back in England, visiting her family at the time of the initial outbreak, probably stranded here when it all went to shit. I'd been to her parent’s place a few times, not too far from here, a good place to check out, see if I can pick up her trail. Natalie, Natalie, Natalie, I smile and close my eyes.

  I'm 23, it's April 2002, I'm walking down to the main street to grab a Danish and some coffee on my lunch break, up the street, ahead of me, getting closer, I see a girl from work, her hair reminds me of another girl I had a crush on a few years earlier, that small detail, a particular shade of hair dye, is somehow enough to make me instantly fall for this girl, holy shit she just smiled and said “Hi” as I passed her, I need to find out her name and which department she works in and think about something else quickly before anyone notices the semi I just got.

  I buy a cinnamon swirl and a black coffee, it's overpriced but tasty, the pastry flakes too much though and leaves my fingers feeling sticky which makes me walk back to work with one hand held away from my body, fingers in a strange position, it looks odd enough for people to look at me funny as I walk past; I'm glad I didn't see the hot girl on the way back from the shop or things might have been different.

  I make a few subtle enquiries when I'm back in the office, find out which room she works in, try to think of reasons for me to be in her room; struggle, I never have to visit accounts......unless I'm lost?

  I get lost a lot over the next few weeks and my lame attempts to say something hilarious every time I'm near her somehow doesn't make her hate me and I get to sit with her on a couple of people's leaving do's and she's flirty and she touches my arm and sometimes my leg when she talks to me and I'm totally into her even though she has a lazy eye, somehow that makes her more attractive to me and she tells me that U2 is her favourite band and I spend the next week listening to the only U2 song I own over and over, Sunday, Bloody Sunday, I try a few other songs but I'm not a U2 fan no matter how hard I try to be.

  Another work leaving do, I've started wondering why everybody seems to be leaving lately, do they know something that I don't, should I be looking for another job too? Everybody that knows Martin, or at least knows who Martin is and wants an excuse to go out drinking, is meeting at a bar in town, I can't remember what it’s called, “Emerald Lounge” sounds right and I thought I knew where it was but now I can't find it. I ask a bouncer on the door of “Crystal” if he can tell me where it is but it turns out that “Emerald Lounge” closed down a while ago and he gives me directions to its successor. When I get there I decide it can't be right, the new name means nothing to me and I can’t see any familiar faces so I wander the streets hoping that I see someone from work or something triggers my memory as to where the hell I'm supposed to be; eventually I see it, “Emerald Kingdom”, I'm an idiot, it's “Emerald Kingdom”, not “Emerald Lounge”, I go in and buy a pint of lager, I still can't see anyone from work and part of me still wonders if I'm in the wrong place but now I've seen it I'm sure this is right.

  I hate waiting for people in bars, I don't like the idea of people looking at me on my own and thinking I'm the kind of lonely person that goes out on hi
s own and just stands around in bars alone all night. I have a routine for these situations though so I start to go through the motions, I look at my watch a lot and check my phone to give the impression that I'm waiting for someone and they are late and this never usually happens to a popular good looking cool guy like me. I've had three pints before anyone else arrives and I'm already feeling quite drunk but that helps me tolerate Tony from Sales, he's a dick.

  Natalie arrives later on and she actually seeks me out and starts talking to me and nobody ever does that, I've had five pints now and am quite obviously drunk but not so drunk that I'm embarrassing to be around, that comes later. For now I can talk to Natalie and be funny and even though I can't remember how old I am when it comes up in conversation and tell everybody I'm two years younger than I actually am without realising it, and I can see from the look on Natalie's friend’s face that maybe I'm not being that funny after all, Natalie is still laughing and flirting so all is good. We end up in a nightclub, imaginatively called “The Niteclub”, it takes twenty minutes for us to reach the front of the queue and once inside it's packed, the bars are five deep, the dance floor is a heaving mass of sweaty bodies and the corridors and spaces in between the two are crowded with small groups, talking or people-watching. As we head to the bar, Natalie grabs my hand and leads me through the crowd, I follow like a happy little dog, suddenly glad of the crowds and now I'm pressed up against her at the bar and we're speaking into each other’s ears since the music is so loud, currently Fragma – Toca's Miracle, the closeness of her mouth, her breath against me, the vibrations from her voice in my inner ear, all combines to turn me on like I didn't think a conversation could and I don't care what she says as long as she says it directly into my ear like this.

  I wish the rest of the night could carry on in a similar vein but unfortunately the continued drinking leaves me swaying around drunkenly against a wall, now so drunk that I am embarrassing to be around, I'm supposed to be dancing but that's not how it looks to anyone that accidentally glances my way and the night ends with me shouting incoherent nonsense into Natalie's face as she leaves to get in a taxi. The next day I split my time between vomiting and sitting with my head in my hands worrying that I've blown my chance.

  I’m 27, it’s October 2006, I step outside into the backyard, the sun is shining but the air feels cold, October used to be my favourite time of year, the air feels different, I think back to the Autumns from my childhood, carving faces into turnips and walking the streets trick or treating, face covered in a cheap plastic mask from the newsagents; collecting conkers to battle my friends, taking them home and baking them in the oven or soaking them in vinegar to make them harder, my longest lasting was an 85’er, the outer shell had split and fallen away but the inner core stayed strong for many battles, it looked like a small brain on the end of my shoelace, eventually it too, split, and my reign was over; the harvest festival, various mums from the village selling homemade cakes and buns, tins of whatever they had in their cupboard and didn't want, home-grown fruit and veg, I hated the harvest festivals at the time but now I miss them. As the wind blows through the trees at the edge of the yard a flurry of leaves comes spiralling down towards me and another memory from my childhood surfaces, catching falling leaves in the schoolyard, a solo game until other kids notice and start joining in, pretty soon everybody was playing, “if you catch one you get to make a wish.” Peter said, we all believed it but nobody ever caught one. I try to catch one now but they spin away from me, twisting out of my fingers as I close them on nothing. The nostalgia makes me sad, I can feel myself filling with an aching emptiness. Time to leave.

  I load up with supplies, for this journey I'm driving a Volkswagen Scirocco GTII in grey, 0-60 in 7.9 seconds, sporty but with a lot of boot space, I secure the house and drive away towards Natalie's parent's house, Toca's Miracle playing on the iPod.

  The journey is uneventful, I see a few infected perk up as I drive past them at various times but there are only one or two at a time and nothing to worry about, I ignore them and after driving for forty minutes arrive in the city centre. I've stayed away from the city before now, too many people lived here before which means a lot more people got infected and are now lurking in the streets and alleys, the other danger being the tighter, more confined space so you can't see what's around each corner; danger everywhere, I had to be careful. I turn off the stereo, that's how nervous I'm feeling right now. I debate parking the car and moving through the city on foot, quieter but more exposed, the car offers protection but is more likely to draw out the infected. The car wins.

  I pull up outside Natalie's parent’s house, her dad's car is still in the driveway and I smile at first, thinking that that means that they are at home, but then I think again, it means they probably never made it out of the house without being infected. I sit and watch the house for fifteen minutes, getting a feel for how quiet the area is, I put in my earphones and turn my iPod on again, winding the charger while I sit and watch the house and the street, Laurie Anderson – O Superman, followed by Tommy James and the Shondelles – Crimson and Clover. My ass is getting numb and I haven't seen any movement so I decide to get out of my nice safe car and head towards the house. I pick up my claw hammer, already stained with blood from past excursions, skip the iPod to a good fighting song, The London Theatre Orchestra – Theme from Robocop, pause it, and open the car door; close it again as quietly as possible, impossible to do it silently but there's no way I'm leaving a car unlocked again, I had a gorgeous red Mitsubishi 3000 GT (0-60 in 5.7 seconds), stolen by an opportunistic fellow survivor, I saw one wrapped around a lamppost a few months later, couldn't be sure if it was the same one, hoped he died in the crash if it was though. I lock the car door and creep to the living room window; peer inside, looks quiet, well, it looks like something awful happened in there at some point, but looks quiet now. I try the door handle, it's locked, the houses are terraced and I have to pass two others and go through a very dark and scary looking alley to reach the back of the house. As I sneak past the back of the end two houses I notice movement through the patio doors; shit, there must be five or six infected in there, just stood motionless except for small hand or arm movements every now and then. I wonder what goes through their mind when they aren't chasing food, are they still capable of thought, do they remember their previous lives or are they just hungry?

  I move on unseen and find the back door locked too but a kitchen window has been smashed so I pull myself through and drop down over the sink onto the lino covered floor, glass crunching underfoot. I freeze and listen; nothing, I start to move but hear a sound, or I think I do, it stops before I have chance to listen properly. I freeze again but the sound doesn't repeat, part of me wishes it did so I'd know for certain that something was in here rather than being uncertain of being alone. My eyes scour my surroundings, the kitchen cupboards are open and emptied but the contents still sit in cardboard boxes on the counter, another bad sign. A half packed bag lies on its side in the hallway, I put my head around the door of the living room, the room I checked out through the front window, it's still empty, I see blood on the wall, on the leg of a chair, sprayed across a family photo that hangs at an angle on the wall; Natalie and her parents at the base of the Eiffel Tower, I always wanted to go to Paris but never got the chance, if I get through my ex-girlfriend list my next list is going to be famous landmarks I never got the chance to see.

  The stairs creak noisily as I step on them, like when you try to sneak up to bed after getting home in the middle of the night and don't want to wake your girlfriend but every little noise seems ten times louder than usual; there's more blood on the stairs. I should leave but I can't cross her off the list until I know for sure; does she still go in the “Not a dick” column if she's dead? I'm pretty sure she didn't think I was a dick, maybe I need a third column for the ones that are dead or I can't track down, I should probably think about this later. I hear a noise again, I'm not sure if it’s the noise that I'm
making that's agitating an infected but this time the noise doesn't stop after I freeze and so I continue to climb the stairs and grip my hammer tightly ready to lash out if anything appears. On the landing I have three choices, two doors on my right and one on my left. The noises are coming from my left so the question is should I deal with that first so I can check out the other rooms at leisure or look for more clues in the quiet rooms and hopefully find something concrete on Natalie without having to check out the noise?

  The first door on the right opens silently and I poke my head around; bathroom, empty. The second door creaks and I hear a rustling of clothing as an infected man steps across the room towards the noise, I hit play on the iPod, Theme from Robocop plays, makes me feel unstoppable, I recognise the man as Natalie's dad, a memory of him driving me and Natalie to the airport once, when we went to Spain, flashes through my mind, the claw end of the hammer flashes through his, and he drops to the floor. The door behind me, on the other side of the landing, opens, three more infected, Natalie's mum one of them; I remember the time she asked me what I wanted to drink, I answered Raspberry milkshake, only half serious, expecting her to laugh and tell me to pick something normal but she actually made me one; the other two infected I haven't seen before, they are probably the ones that came through the kitchen window before me and infected Natalie’s parents as they were packing up to leave. The landing is too cramped to take on three at once, I can barely get a decent swing with the hammer and it just makes the first in line stagger slightly. I shove him down the stairs instead, he'll come back but it should buy me a bit more time and give me a bit more room to manoeuvre. I back up into the room behind me, the one with Natalie's dad in; I trip on his arm, almost fall but don't. I stand on the bed, bouncing up and down, not like a kid pretending it’s a trampoline, just bouncing a bit, getting ready to strike.