by Alex South
“You don’t get to vote,” said Jess to Rob.
“It doesn’t matter anyway, we’ve got three yes-es,” said Duke.
“Duke… please,” said Jess.
“It’s been voted,” said Duke.
“No… what’s your vote. You can make it a draw,” said Jess.
“I don’t have a vote. I don’t know,” said Duke.
“You don’t know…? You must think something,” said Jess.
“I don’t know Jess! I just said it! I don’t know. All right?” said Duke.
…
Laura’s mind drifted back to the last time she had felt this vulnerable. It had been raining. Her father had come home. His team had lost – again. Her mother knew what was coming – again. This time Laura tried to stop him. He hadn’t taken it well. He had turned violent – more than usual. Laura had always known he was crazy, but not this crazy.
He had stabbed her in the leg. Just once, to ‘teach her a lesson’.
That night, when her mother was asleep, Laura took a knife and stabbed him back. Just once. She only had to do it once.
Her mother had enough bruises; Laura had enough bruises. Her mother took responsibility, claiming self-defence. No one pressed charges. Apparently, it was clear to everyone involved that her mother had been given no choice.
She often wondered if the police had known the truth. Her life had gotten better after that point – as if she had to plunge herself into the ultimate darkness, before she could begin her ascent into light.
That Laura was gone now; she was someone else. But lying there, with the wound she had, it reminded her of her father, of the feeling of being helpless, and the promise she had made… she would always fight back… always.
…
After their discussion about the zombie in the wheelchair, the group had re-entered the house. Just like the others, it had no food, and so Rob — pushing the wheelchair in front of him — had led them on, telling them that he knew a house that wasn’t obvious from the road, and so might not have been spotted by potential looters.
“What about the girl?” said Jess suddenly. “What if she can find us with this zombie?”
The group stopped walking. No-one said anything.
“Well?” said Jess.
“I guess… that’s possible,” said Duke. Indecision playing on his face.
“We’ve already decided,” said Rob.
“But we didn’t think of that,” said Jess.
“What do you mean?” said Rob.
“What?” said Jess. It wasn’t clear if she didn’t understand, hadn’t heard him, or was being defensive. Before anyone could find out, Duke spoke:
“She’s got this mental link with them,” he said, “If this zombie can see us, maybe she can see us.”
Jess moved over to the wheelchair and tried to take it from Rob, but he wouldn’t let go. Jess tried to yank the handles from him. “Hey!” she said, “I’m going to face it away from us! Jesus!”
Rob let go, and Jess pointed it in the other direction.
“But maybe we can use it,” said Duke. “We can use it to attract her.”
“No…” said John.
“No, no, no,” said Elena, “Attract her, no.”
Duke closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.
“Rob, will we go off road at any time?” said Dreadlocks.
“We have to go on a path.”
“So we need to leave this behind, right?” Dreadlocks said.
“We’ll come back for it,” said Rob.
“Why don’t we leave it here? Just… leave it here, we’ll go and do what we have to do. And everyone can have time to think about it more,” said Dreadlocks.
Rob thought for a second. “I’ll leave it because we’re going off road, but I want to come back.”
“Yeah, let’s just keep moving,” said Duke. “We’ll talk about it on the way.”
“Don’t just leave it there,” said John, “in the middle of the road. A car might need to pass through.” After seeing the white car on the horizon earlier, he felt like it was important to act with others in mind. This was still a road, and there were still people out there who might need it.
Rob looked at him like he was an idiot, yet said nothing and moved the wheelchair out of the way.
…
“It’s up there,” said Rob, pointing.
They had come to a footpath, trailing away from the road and cutting diagonally across a rising field of green. They all followed as he led them up the path and around the edge of a wood until they arrived outside a large, red-brick house. With a stab of disappointment, John saw that the door was slightly ajar.
The building was surrounded by a garden. The group stayed in the field, circling around to the left to size up the area. Each window had drawn curtains. They reached the other side of the house, finding another door – this time closed – they continued, coming full circle back to their original position. John could feel and hear his heart. His insides were tight and hollow.
Duke signalled for them to follow. They passed through a small back gate, coming into the garden and approached the entrance. They entered, arriving in a hallway. Stairs were on the right. At the end, on the left, a large, arch-shaped gap in the wall loomed.
From this angle, John could not see the room that it led to; only a slither of wallpaper crept through the tight corner.
It was to this that Duke led them.
They came to the arch. Duke jolted back. John instinctively did the same. All time and space seemed to anchor itself to Duke. Everything suddenly came down to his next move. But he didn’t move. He stayed still, staring at whatever was in the room. John felt a clamouring urge to run.
“Untie me!” – a woman’s voice, coming from the room. John couldn’t see who.
“What’s happening?” Duke said.
“Untie me quick. Please. Untie me quick.”
Duke took a few steps into the room. Dreadlocks pushed past John and entered too. John glanced behind him at Elena and Jess. “Watch my back.” He whispered. Now he walked forwards, turned the corner, and entered.
At first, John struggled to process what he saw.
The room was large with a high ceiling, its egg shell blue walls were covered with painted handprints – small and clearly those of a child. Everything was lit by the huge windows on the right. Large cream curtains diffused the light. Toys were scattered along the floor, creating a mess of cheerfully colourful plastic and wood.
To John’s left, a man was slumped against the side of a huge bookshelf, eyes closed — a red scarf wrapped around his neck, and around that a rope. John could see from the colour of his skin that he was not alive. A big, yellow smiley face was drawn on the wall above the man’s head.
Straight ahead, a woman and a man were tied to the same radiator, also with ropes around their necks. Directly behind them were zombies — for her, a male, bald and with heavy stubble. Its arms and legs were wrapped around her. Its head rested on her shoulder, and its eyes stared beyond the ground. The man’s zombie — a female, sat in exactly the same way.
The woman was looking at them; it was her that had spoken. Makeup had been smeared clumsily on her face.
The man wasn’t looking at anything. Where his eyes should be, there was just bright red flesh. His zombie had long blonde hair which rested over his chest.
“Please, untie, quick… quickly,” said the woman.
“What’s…” John trailed off. He didn’t have words.
The man with no eyes straightened his head suddenly.
“Untie me! Get me away! Kill them!” Shouted the woman.
“Who’s there?” said the man.
“Kill them! Kill them!” said the woman.
“Who’s there?” said the man. “Don’t come any closer. Don’t come any closer!”
“Untie me!”
“What’s going on!” Shouted Dreadlocks.
“We gotta go,” said Duke, pulling at Dreadlocks.
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Dreadlocks ignored him, pulled his kitchen knife and moved closer. It happened in unison. The man’s zombie and the woman’s zombie came to life. Both of them tightened their grip and latched their teeth onto the necks of their victims. The two screams mixed in the air, tearing into John’s mind, wrenching at something inside him, creating a pain. The sound of their very existence – laid bare in all its suffering. He knew it innately.
Duke turned and ran. “Come on!” John grabbed Dreadlocks and pulled. He stumbled back a little bit, but remained frozen. “Come on!” John shouted again, moving around in front of him and pushing.
Dreadlocks finally started to move. John followed and was the last to the door. Something caught his foot. He tripped, smashing his head against Dreadlock’s shoulder before hitting the floor. Turning onto his back, he saw a zombie rising above him. The man John had seen to his side upon entering the room, the man he had known was not alive, and who had remained motionless against the bookshelf – that man was motionless no more, his eyes no longer shut, but open and all consuming. Now this corrupted flesh blocked out everything as it threw himself at him.
John crawled back. The zombie jerked to a halt. It had hit the end of its rope. John scrambled away. Dreadlocks took him with both hands and yanked him up.
They burst out of the room. John saw the others, a few steps ahead, going through the door at the end of a hallway. At the same time, he saw movement coming down the stairs — another zombie, female.
The front door was opened inwards and had become a barrier. It separated the foot of the stairs from the rest of the corridor. The zombie lunged at Jess as she passed through the frame, missing her and hitting the door face first, knocking it closed.
More zombies thundered down the stairs. John turned, and ran past the room they had been in, passing the tied-up attacker franticly pulling against his imprisonment. John and Dreadlocks took another door, entering a new area of the house.
Dozens of bodies hung from the ceiling. John glanced back. Dreadlocks had slammed the door and was pushing himself against it. Now it shook under the thuds of the undead. Dreadlocks held the handle and put his foot against the bottom.
“Run!” Dreadlocks shouted.
John turned back to the bodies. They started squirming and thrashing. He looked up, and saw that they were hanging from their necks. He dropped down and crawled along the carpet – underneath the reach of their feet. A door to the outside came into view. He moved forwards, passing under a table and coming to it. There was space to stand up. He turned the handle and pulled. Nothing. He shook it with all his strength, using both hands. Nothing. He slammed his fist against the lock.
Find the key – an inner voice said.
He looked to the side, seeing a small wire basket on some shelves. It was full of keys.
“John!” He heard Dreadlocks shout. “What’s happening?”
John fumbled through the jangling metal, now picking one out at random. An idea hit him – the window. He moved through the hanging bodies, pushing away the legs as they kicked at him. Coming to it now, he tried the handle of the window. It wasn’t locked. He opened it.
The urge to leave rose in him - to let Dreadlocks stay behind and keep the zombies back. He embraced it, climbing up and putting one leg through to the ledge on the other side. But another voice kicked in, a better voice, angrier, braver. He turned back, jumped down and crawled under the hanging bodies – grabbing a chair and dragging it with him.
Seeing him approach, Dreadlocks moved slightly, making space. John put the chair against the frame, and under the door handle. He tilted it, wedging it as firmly as he could.
“RUN!” John shouted. Dreadlocks let go. John pulled him. They ran through the storm of kicks, coming to the window on the other side. John climbed through first. Open space exploding around him. Dreadlocks came next. They ran forwards, away from the house, away from everything. Now Dreadlocks held John, forcing him to stop. They both turned to look back.
“They’re on the other side!” said Dreadlocks. John knew he meant Duke and the others.
Indecision crushed John; he needed to get back around to the front of the house. But that would take him back towards danger. The zombies could burst out of the building at any moment.
“Run!” said Dreadlocks pointing. John followed his finger to see figures emerging from the trees.
…
Not for the first time, Laura thought about what could have caused the undead to exist. She was torn. On the one hand, there was the obvious answer. This was a disease — an infection. But that didn’t seem to fit. How could a disease do this? And how did the zombies function? How did they continue on without food or water? A disease didn’t explain that, and it didn’t explain the little girl, or the powers she seemed to have.
She knew that John had suggested sunlight powered them. But that just seemed stupid. Photosynthesis? Or something like it. It really didn’t seem as if the human body had the raw potential to be manipulated like that. Could an infection really achieve such a thing?
So, what was the alternative? Something non-sciency? Perhaps there really was a force, an invisible source of energy that humans didn’t know about, but that these things, somehow, had tapped into.
…
The field stretched under his feet. John’s mind splintered and rushed into his body. The grass speed into peripheral, green blurs. Ahead lay trees. John traced a line to them. The earth morphed around the route he projected so that there was only him and it. Him and it. Him and it. Him and it – one screaming moment of motion. He would cross the fields. He would enter the woods. That was all. He didn’t know where he was going. Fate would draw the landscape; fate would choose what happened.
They came to a stone wall and jumped over it. Now only one field lay between them and the woods. Dreadlocks was faster; he had gained several meters. The space between them grew as they crossed the field. Now Dreadlocks entered the woods, with John still some distance behind.
Now John drew close to the trees.
“HARRRRGGGHHHH!”
The zombie’s presence shuddered into existence behind him. It was close. John knew it must be faster. He felt a pressure on his back, pushing him down. The ground slammed into his shoulder, with his attacker falling near him. John scrambled back up. The zombie leapt towards him. Outstretched fingers grazed his side, as John dodged away. It fell back down onto the grass.
John glanced back down the field. Three more figures were closing the gap. He sprinted into the woods. Dreadlocks had disappeared. All of his spirit became one single thing, drawing lines between the trees, his mind hooked on frantic calculations, as he dodged in and out. His lungs burnt. The ground became steep underfoot. Suddenly, there were less trees. The ground became rocky. John could see a drop approaching. He ran to it, now knowing what he would do.
He arched through the open air towards a tree. His arms and legs wrapped around the trunk; his foot found a thin branch on the other side, which allowed him to rotate his body to face his pursuers. The first zombie jumped, landing underneath him. John kicked at it. Its eyes jerked to him. It lifted up an arm, clawing at his foot. Another undead approached. It leapt. John pushed out with his hand. His palm hit its chest. Its hands scratched at the bark. It hurtled towards the ground, having not found a grip.
John kicked out at the one below him again. It lunged at his foot, missing. The next zombie was approaching fast. John felt his leg being pulled. He slipped off the branch. A half second of nothingness, then hardness smashed into his back; his body flipped round. His arms grasped at the swirl of colour. Suddenly a thick branch rushed towards him. He landed stomach first – the wind knocked out of him.
He looked up. Another zombie had jumped into the tree. Below, the attacker that had dragged him down was climbing back up.
John slowly rose and looked to the side. There was another tree. Close enough, said an inner-voice. He left his position. A flash of movement. A figure dropped from above, landi
ng close to him.
Holding onto the trunk for balance, John landed a side-footed kick on its chest. It flew backwards. John turned and walked along a horizontal section, away from the trunk and towards the other tree, now leaping through the air to land in it.
He glanced up to see a figure coming at him. He hopped to the side. The corpse smashed against the branch with its mid-rift – its limbs folding around it. John started climbing. It scrambled up. Higher than it now, John kicked out at its head. It grabbed his foot. John tried to pull his leg away.
The zombie slipped out into open space, its weight yanking John downwards. He instinctively lunged towards the nearest branch, his arms wrapping around it. His attacker’s motion jerked against his body, its heaviness tearing through him. Pressure exploded in his forearms. Bark dug into bone.
He felt his trainer slip slightly. He tried to straighten his ankle more. The material moved against his skin, a force building as gravity fought to rip it away. The same force burrowed into his arms and pulled at his shoulders. The shoe moved a little more. Now his ankle popped free. The zombie dropped. John pulled himself back onto the branch and began climbing once more. His hope was to get back to the rocky outcrop he had jumped from. The branches became thinner and the space between them greater. Below, several of the infected were coming up after him.
He came closer to the top of the tree. It started to bend under his weight. This was it. This had to work. He pushed himself out into open air, arching towards the outcrop. His feet hit the edge. He fell forwards onto his hands and knees. Standing up, he looked back at the zombies advancing up the tree.
After a few seconds of catching his breath, he turned with a grimace and forced himself to run.
…
Laura heard the front door open. She wanted to shout out, but a part of her wouldn’t allow it. The group had hidden the key outside the house in preparation for their return. What if someone else had found that key? What if someone had been watching the house? It was unlikely but…
She heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Jess, Elena and Duke came into her room.
“What happened?” said Laura.
Elena shook her head, “We got separate.”
