She is about to attack again when Alan appears behind his wife and drags her backwards through the doorway. Gemma charges and Dad ungainly drops Mum on the landing carpet and steps in front of her. He raises his foot and stomps it into the centre of Gemma’s chest. The little girl is sent tumbling back into the bedroom but is back on her feet in an instant. Dad slams the door and turns the key in the lock. Immediately, the banging on the door resumes as Gemma throws herself into it and beats her fist against it. The zombie has tasted flesh for the first time, and its whetted appetite is insatiable. Feral snarls of anger, pig-like grunts of frustration and howls of hunger accompany the pounding, and although the sound is horrific, it fills her parents’ hearts with dismay.
Alan looks down at his wife. “What have you done, Marjorie?” I told you not to go in there to her. You know the dangers.”
His wife speaks with a hand clasped to her throat, and her voice is barely audible, “I’m sorry, Alan, I just couldn’t leave her locked up like an animal.”
“It’s alright, dear,” he says. “I understand. Come on, let’s get you downstairs and patch you up.”
In less than an hour, they are back in bed, and although the injury has been thoroughly cleaned and bandaged, Marjorie doesn’t feel too good. She knows the wound is infected; she can feel the poison coursing through her veins like snake venom. She doesn’t want to be locked in the second spare room, so she keeps quiet and hopes she will feel better in the morning.
Sometime in the night, Marjorie dies. Sometime just before dawn, she opens her eyes again. Her husband has fallen asleep with his arm around her shoulders. She raises her head off the pillow and sinks her teeth into his bicep.
Naturally, people went to the authorities for help, but none came. Mob rule took over, and angry residents stormed council offices and police stations. Danny was on duty trying to protect the public when his station was ransacked. He returned to find a burning building and four of his friends and colleagues dead on the car park. Officials were strung up by the rampaging crowd, for being unable to provide answers to impossible questions. The military intervened, and the ringleaders shot on sight. Panic set in among the minions and with nobody to follow, they fled town, dragging along anybody on the streets who’d go with them.
It was because of an eventuality like this that Danny had acquired two pairs of trainers, each with a tracking device in the left heel, and had insisted that Summer and Lydia wore them at all times. Their original purpose was for locating people with mental health issues, such as dementia patients wandering off from care homes, but the police had given them to people in witness protection schemes. It was much easier to monitor somebody via a hand-held tracker than it was to follow them around and Danny had recognised the equipment’s potential for the troubled times ahead. He wanted to be able to find his family, should they get separated.
Danny had laughed at Summer’s expression when he handed her a pair. “Dad,” she had said, looking distraught. “Don’t they do them in Adidas?”
3: Barricade
The monitor showed Summer to be twelve miles south-west of where Danny was, and he sped off towards her. As he drove, he fretted over the battery life of the equipment. The monitor on the passenger seat beside him ran on AA batteries, and he had spares, but the transmitter hidden in Summer’s trainers was less robust, the retrieval of his daughter depended entirely on the life of a single cell battery.
The tyres screeched on the asphalt as he cut the corner onto the town’s main shopping street, but the burst of speed abruptly ended. The clusters of zombies that peppered the road made speeding impossible. He wasn’t mindful of how many he knocked down while trying to negotiate his way through the hordes, but he tried to avoid them for fear of getting stuck on a pile of bodies. Their attraction to Danny’s car also made them difficult to avoid. One of the creatures had its fingers ripped off by the door handle, trying to hold on to it as he passed. Another, in an advanced state of decay, left half of its face on the windscreen as it tried to bite through the glass. The jet-wash and wipers turned it into a gooey soup before it slid down onto the car bonnet.
All the broken shop windows and empty displays made Danny shake his head in despair. Humanity was going through a world-changing pandemic, and most saw it as an opportunity for looting. Instead of pulling together to help each other, they would rather steal what they could for themselves and to hell with the neighbours. The stolen TVs and laptops were worthless now, and the thieves would most likely be zombies, staring at blank screens with dead eyes.
He faced forward and concentrated on driving, slaloming his way along the high-street. At the end of the thoroughfare, the road split into a Y and Danny took the road to the left. To his surprise, the road was empty, but his relief was short-lived; fifty meters ahead, a line of ghouls blocked the road completely. Danny brought the police car to a halt and assessed the situation.
A crowd of undead pressed up against a fuel tanker, turned on its side and laid across the road. A bright yellow removal van was parked tight against the wall of the shop behind it, and a builders’ merchants’ wagon laden with bricks blocked the path in front of it. At a glance, it appeared to be a serious accident, but Danny recognised it for what it was: a man-made blockade. It seemed the zombies knew too, and they pushed and clawed at the immovable objects, hopelessly seeking access to the people behind them.
Danny checked the monitor beside him. The dotted trail told him the van had passed through here and it seemed unlikely that the barricade had been installed in the time since they had visited. That left only one option: they had gone through it.
A flash of sunlight from the top of the fuel tanker caught his eye, and he focused on the point of origin. He hoped that somebody was signalling to him, but when there was no repeat flash, he realised it was just the reflective glare off a glass lens. Somebody was watching him, hopefully through a telescope and not the sights of a rifle. Danny knew his watcher would be able to make out his police uniform and recognise his car. “Hello,” he shouted, waving his hands over his head.
Some of the zombies at the wall turned away and staggered towards him.
“What do you want?” the watcher shouted back.
The zombies who had left the wall turned back the way they had come, towards the sound of the new voice.
“Safe passage through, that’s all,” Danny said.
“What do you offer in return?”
“I’ve got food, water and ammunition.”
“We can’t open up,” the watchman said. “They all come running in. You’ll have to distract them. Call them all over to where you are.”
Danny considered the danger he would be putting himself in but decided he didn’t have a choice in the matter. “Hey,” he yelled, jumping up and down and waving his hands in the air. “Hey, I’m over here.”
Half of the zombies in the line turned away from the toppled tanker and headed towards him, but he needed the attention of them all. Then the solution came to him, and he felt stupid for not thinking of it sooner. He got back in the police car and turned on the flashing blue lights and the siren. The effect was instantaneous, the entire wall of zombies left the barricade and shambled towards him. Danny revved the engine as they approached.
The man watching him jumped out of sight, and the tanker slowly swung inwards. A lone zombie turned back towards it, and the watcher appeared in the opening and shot it in the head with a long-barrelled rifle. Danny was being watched through rifle sights after all. He revved the engine to the point of screaming, took his foot off the clutch and floored the accelerator. The car thrust forward like a dragster and ploughed through half-a-dozen zombies, spread out across the road in front of him. They were torn apart by the impact, and Danny sped through the gap in the barricade into safety. He managed to bring the car to a halt thirty meters inside and killed the engine. He looked over his shoulder to see an enormous fork-lift truck pushing a low-loader trailer back into the breach. The fuel tanker was faste
ned to the trailer by ratchet straps and hung over one side, so its tyres just cleared the floor.
“Very clever,” Danny said, as the watchman approached him.
“Yeah, well you’ve got to evolve,” said the man, holding out his hand. “I’m Garth. Pleased to meet you.”
“Danny,” he said, shaking hands.
“I thought the police force was no more.”
“I suppose it isn’t, but I’m looking to start it up again. Somebody has to keep the law in this world gone to hell. Would you be interested in being a deputy?”
“No thanks,” Garth said, without hesitation. “I’ll just take care of what we have here.”
“And what’s that?” Danny asked.
“There’s about twenty of us now, but one or two people come by most days. Some stay, some don’t. Some have lost their minds, others have lost the will to live.
“When we saw what was happening, a bunch of us decided to make a stand against those things, instead of running. Where were we going to run to? This place looked as good as anywhere else. A single street with few side roads which, we figured, would be easy to defend. We blocked off all the side roads, built barricades at either end and killed, or should I say, re-killed all the zombies trapped inside.”
Danny looked down the street. There were four smaller roads leading off from the main street, delivery roads for once-busy shops. The junction of each road was cram-packed with cars, piled five high between the shop walls. It seemed the fork-lift had been an invaluable tool. “Wasn’t that a bit dangerous?” Danny said.
“Yes, but it wasn’t as bad as you’d think. There weren’t as many zombies back then, and there were enough of us to take care of them comfortably. Christ, I’m talking like it was years ago when it was only last week.”
“I know what you mean,” Danny said. “Those things are definitely on the increase. I think they’re finding ways to get out of places and coming together. I’ve noticed more packs are forming.”
“You’re probably right,” Garth said. “Anyway, we thought with all the shops around us we’d be okay for a while. We saved every store inside the boundary from looters, including Tesco back there. By the way, there was only one casualty during the clean-up operation, and that was my brother-in-law, Joey, he got bitten while checking out the storage area of Poundland.”
“What did you do with him?” Danny asked.
“We gave him two choices. A bullet to the head or be let loose with the twitchers. He opted for the latter, so we dropped him over the wall. I think you ran him over on your way in.”
“I’m sorry,” Danny said. “You let another vehicle pass through recently, a blue van with a Harlequin figure on the side?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Garth said. “About two hours ago. The driver was a balding middle-aged guy in thick glasses.”
“That’s right. What did he tell you?” Danny asked.
“He told me he was the only survivor in his household and he needed to see if his elderly mother was still alive in York.”
“Did you look in the back of his van?”
“No. Why?”
“If you had, you would have found my daughter. That piece of shit killed my wife, left me for dead and abducted her.”
“Aw, man. I’m sorry to hear that, but I can’t be of much help. All I can tell you is the guy went straight through our blockade, but he did ask if he could have some petrol. I told him we couldn’t spare any, but gave him directions to a service station about fifteen miles out of town, so I guess that would be his next stop.”
“It’ll also be mine,” Danny said. “Thanks for your help. You don’t mind if I keep the stuff I have, do you? I need it myself.”
“Not at all,” Garth said. “I’d like to give you some of our supplies, but nobody knows how or when this outbreak is going to end and the food we have might be all we’ll ever have.”
“That’s okay,” Danny said. “You’ve done enough.”
Garth rode shotgun with him until they reached the barricade at the opposite end of the street, he got out and said through the open window, “Back up a bit, Danny. You’ll need to shoot through like before.”
The fork-lift had followed them down and hooked up to a similar trailer in the wall. Garth scaled the barricade to join three other men on top of it. They started shouting and banging sticks on the metal structure to draw the waiting zombies away from the gate. Once the gate had opened to three meters, Danny sped out and roared down the street ahead.
As soon as the police car disappeared from view, Garth reached into the side pocket of his combat trousers and pulled out a walkie-talkie. He pressed the button on the side of it and spoke into the device, “There’s a cop on the way, my dear brother, with a car full of booty. Clean him out, and I want halves.”
4: Another One
The van braked sharply causing Summer to roll sideways out of her sitting position. The vehicle gradually slowed until it mounted a kerb and came to a halt. She heard the ratchet crank of the handbrake, followed by the opening and closing of the driver’s door. A moment later, the side door slid open, and Summer had to partly close her eyes against the sunshine which flooded the back of the van. Piper stepped into view. “Don’t say a fucking word,” he said. “Sit perfectly still and keep quiet. Do you understand me, Summer? Make one move or squeak one sound and this will not only be your last summer, but it'll also be your last fucking day. Nod if you understand.”
Summer nodded her head as her eyes welled up with tears.
“Sit here,” he said, “in the doorway where I can see you, stop crying and look happy.”
She shuffled to the edge of the van and let her feet dangle outside. She wiped her eyes and tried to smile.
“That’s better,” Piper said. “You’re quite pretty when you smile.”
He turned his back and walked down the path of a semi-detached house. Summer leant to one side so she could see past him and saw a dark-skinned man and a boy about six years old, peering through the front window into the house. The boy was standing in a wheelbarrow so that he could see over the sill, and the man was holding a shotgun.
“Hello there,” Piper said as he approached them.
The man swung around and raised the shotgun.
“Whoa,” Piper said, raising his hands. “I’m not a twitcher, I’m alive and I’m your friend, or at least I’d like to be.”
The man looked relieved and lowered his weapon. “This is my parents’ house, and I have to know if they’re alive. I haven’t seen them since last week, been too tied up at home. My wife was bitten by one of them things. She died, but came back and killed our baby girl.” His voice became higher as he spoke and he suppressed a sob before he continued. “I had to put them both down. We were lucky to get out alive.”
“Aw, I’m sorry to hear that, buddy. How did the little guy here take it?” Piper said, stepping up and putting an arm around the boy’s shoulders.
The boy smiled up at him, “I’m ok I guess, mister.”
“Why don’t you folks come with me?” Piper said. “I’m on my way to taking my daughter someplace safe.” He turned and waved at Summer. She waved back and forced a smile.
“There are no safe places anymore,” the man said. “And thank you for your offer, but I think it’d be best if my son and I go it alone.”
“And how do you think he’d cope if he were to lose you?” Piper said.
“He won’t,” the man said, furrowing his brow. “Not ever.”
“Oh yes he will,” Piper said and pulled the Glock from out of the back of his trousers.
The man instinctively raised his gun, but Piper was quicker and shot him in the chest. The man stumbled backwards, sucking air in through clenched teeth, and still tried to raise his weapon. Piper shot him again, in the same spot, and the man dropped the gun and fell backwards between two rose bushes. Beside him, the little boy screamed and clasped his hands to his face, peeping through his splayed fingers at his dead father.
Piper left him screaming and tried the front door of the house. Obviously, it was locked, otherwise, why would these two have been peering through the window, like a father giving his son peeping Tom lessons? He stepped back a pace and fired a bullet into the door handle, obliterating the lock. He raised his leg and stomped his foot on the door, it swung open, crashing into the wall behind it. The viewing pane shattered and fragmented glass fell onto the welcome mat.
“Stop screaming now, kid,” he said. “It’s starting to get on my nerves, and you don’t want me all grouchy now, do you?”
The boy drew breath to start another screaming bout, but Piper walked across to him and slapped him hard across the face, knocking him out of the wheelbarrow. He grabbed him by the throat and lifted him out of the flower bed where he’d landed, not far from his dad. “I said shut up, and when I tell you to do something, you’d better fucking listen, got it?”
The boy whimpered and nodded up at him, his teary eyes filled with terror. He slowly raised a finger and pointed at something over Piper’s shoulder.
Piper dropped the boy on the ground and turned around. The walking corpses of the boy’s grandparents staggered through the ruined door with their arms held out in front of them. Grandma wore a sleeveless pale blue dress with the front of it stained dark red. Blood dripped from her gnashing jaws in semi-congealed globules and settled on her ample bosom. A festering bandage loosely wrapped around her forearm was covered in purple spots and ringed with yellow stains. A colony of fungus covered the dressing and maggots writhed out of either end of it. Behind her, came Grandpa, wearing a white collarless shirt and light beige trousers. Blood soaked his crotch, and dark streaks ran down the inside legs.
Searching For Summer: A Zombie Novel Page 3
