DEAD: Snapshot (Book 2): Leeds, England

by TW Brown

  Simon scowled. He had seen something in Shadiyah’s eyes as well. He did not want to admit that it had concerned him, but he knew he was lying to himself. His shoulders slumped as he accepted the truth. Still, he hated the idea of leaving her by herself. Mrs. Raye could say whatever she liked, but they would be sentencing Shadiyah to death if they abandoned her.

  Cedric took a step towards the downed woman and Simon’s arm shot out, barring the way. “What do you think you are doing?”

  “I just thought that our group would benefit from having that blade since we are the ones who will be leaving this building and going out into that hell,” the man said with a snort.

  “If you touch her or that sword, I will personally throw you through one of those windows.” Simon squared his shoulders and faced the man, making it a point of looking him in the eyes to hammer home the sincerity of his words.

  “I don’t want any trouble, copper.” The man raised his hands and stepped back.

  Simon scowled; he did not like this at all. These people were willing to just cut a person loose and let them drift away awfully quick. His mind went to his bite wound and he wondered how fast they would do the same to him. He considered revealing his condition right then and there. Perhaps they would insist that he stay behind as well. If that happened, then Shadiyah would at least have somebody.

  “Are you really a police man?” a small voice said, causing Simon to look down at the little girl now standing in front of him and looking up with an expression of what looked strangely like…hope?

  “Well…” Simon began, but he paused as he knelt down to meet her at eye level.

  He was certain that he saw something in this little girl’s inquisitive expression that held out hope that he was that authority figure who would offer her someplace to anchor herself against the madness. He had to admit, the past several days had seen the world spin out of control. Civilization was in tatters in less time than anybody could have ever imagined. He likened it to a car crash where you were moving along fine and then suddenly coming to an unceremonious and violent halt that sent you smashing through the windshield.

  “He was about to start his first day with the police right here in this neighborhood,” Mrs. Raye said as she stepped up beside him.

  Was that relief that he saw flash on the girl’s face? A wave of guilt washed over him. What would it do to this child when the infection or whatever it was finally claimed him and he started showing symptoms? He would worry about that later; right now it was time that he started acting the role of the protector of the people.

  “I was all set to become a member of the Outer West branch of the West Yorkshire Police, Little Miss.” Simon knelt before the girl and offered his best smile.

  “My mum said that if I was ever in trouble, or afraid, that I should look for one of the men or women in black.” Annie touched Simon on the face and he stiffened for a second, thinking that she might be seeing those first tracers in his eyes, but instead, she simply smiled and then threw her arms around his neck in a big hug.

  “So, where did you say we were heading?” Mrs. Raye asked.

  “Micklefield,” Simon said, standing up and scooping Annie into his arms with him as he did so. “I have a cousin there. The town is small enough, and maybe things are not as bad out that way as they are here.”

  “That might not be such a terrible idea,” Mrs. Raye agreed. “If nothing else, it gets us out of the major population center.”

  It didn’t take long for them to gather things up to bring on their journey. They knew that driving the main roads nearby were out of the question simply by glancing out the window. The A58 leading to the roundabout and the city center was jammed in both directions with cars that had long since been abandoned by any of the living occupants. That meant that they would need to be able to carry everything.

  “So we are just leaving anybody else that might be in the towers?” Simon asked as they all stood outside of Mrs. Raye’s flat cinching up the backpacks that she had actually leaning up against the wall in her entry hall for some peculiar reason.

  “We can’t save everybody,” Mrs. Raye answered curtly. “The time has come to take care of ourselves first. Once we have gotten settled, then we can worry about others if that is what you wish to do.”

  Simon could not shake the nagging feeling in the back of his head that there was more about this old bird than met the eye. He had actually asked about the three backpacks when they had walked into her flat that already had some basic supplies loaded into them. She had given him some sort of dismissive answer about being prepared and just hoping to be able to run across a few able bodies in the process to shoulder the load.

  Additionally, she had an array of small but nasty weapons to choose from sitting on her kitchen table. He did not want to ask where those had come from and simply picked up a spiked mace that looked like it had been lifted from a museum exhibit. Deciding that the baton was just not that effective, he gave this new weapon a few practice swings and felt fairly confident that it would deal out enough damage to crush the skull of a zombie.

  Cedric had picked up some sort of peculiar looking bladed weapon. It looked like a scythe except for the fact that the handle was short enough to be wielded one-handed. Also, it had some sort of heavy saw-toothed blade jutting from the handle that looked like a small version of a headsman’s axe.

  “What the blazes is this?” Cedric said, the palpable awe in his voice seeping through.

  “A friend of mine in Iran made that for me,” Mrs. Raye said with no more emotion than if she were commenting on the weather.

  Once everybody was ready and Annie had been given very specific instructions to stay close and keep quiet, the foursome were ready to leave. A nagging feeling that had continued to ping around inside Simon’s head until he could take it no longer finally won out.

  Everybody headed for the stairwell, but Simon pulled up. “Meet me at the exit. I will be down in just a few minutes.”

  “Where are you going?” Mrs. Raye’s voice called after him, but he ignored her and rushed back to Shadiyah’s flat.

  He pulled the spare key that he’d found hanging on a hook in the kitchen from his pants pocket and hurried inside. He went to the room of the flat where they had tucked the young woman into bed. Grabbing a piece of paper, he scribbled a quick note:

  Shaddi,

  We have gone on to Micklefield. If you find it in your heart, I would love for you to join us. It pains me to leave you behind, and know that I was against the idea, but the consensus is that you have let your anger get the best of you. I hope you will decide to give Cedric a chance. In my heart, I do not believe that he was part of that terrible thing that happened to Assi.

  We will get out of the city any way we can, but the hope is that we will eventually make it to the M1 and follow it until the A656 roundabout. Look for us at the Parish Church of Saint Mary the Virgin first…if you choose to join us.

  Simon

  He slipped the note under the scimitar that they had left on her dresser. He wanted to ensure that she got his message. If she chose to refuse his offer, at least he could live with the idea that he had made one. Giving the raven-haired beauty one final look, he had to resist the urge to kiss her forehead. Slipping out the door, Simon hurried to the stairwell and began the decent to the ground floor where the others would be waiting.

  ***

  When Shadiyah opened her eyes, it took her several seconds to realize that the utter darkness was what was keeping her from being able to see a thing. She sat up, and her eyes quickly found the seam at the bottom of her door in the relative blackness of what was obviously the bedroom.

  She stood and was greeted by a wave of nausea and dizziness that had her sitting back down in a hurry. She waited for the sensations to pass and then attempted to stand once more. This time, she went slow and was rewarded with being able to make it to her feet.

  Padding out to the living room, she was not surprised to find it empty.
There was very little actual light filtering in, and she thought that she could hear the pitter patter of rain on the windows. Moving to them, she looked out at the dead city of Leeds, England.

  She could be looking at any city in the world for all she could actually see from her vantage point. What she could see were the several fires burning throughout the city she had called home. Yet, now she felt completely detached. Not just from Leeds, but from everything. It was as if her soul reflected the utter darkness blanketing the world laid out before her.

  She moved over to a table that had obviously been placed by her former fellow survivors. It was sitting directly in the path of the miniscule amount of light afforded by the living room window. It was not near any of the other furnishings and the table was littered with a few items obviously intended for her. Among them was a small flashlight that she switched on.

  She suddenly realized that there was one item in particular that she could not be without. Already her mind was promising to hunt down and kill those who abandoned her if it was not located. She returned to the bedroom and was relieved to discover her father’s scimitar on the large dresser sitting against the far wall. She also discovered a note and read it. When she finished, her hand crumpled the piece of paper and dropped it to the floor.

  She returned to the living room and found that much of the food that she and Mrs. Raye had scavenged was still sitting in neat stacks on the kitchen counter. She opened a tin of corned beef and a bottle of water and then returned to look out the window.

  She had no idea how long she stood there, nor did she know when she had actually regained consciousness from the nasty blow to the head that had left her with an ugly feeling knot that was crusted with blood. But when the sun began to turn the dark sky to that of a slate gray, she was still looking out the window.

  As her view became more and more clear, she began to discern details. She could see large mobs of the undead milling about, and that was when she remembered that there had been an explosion involving a train car carrying petrol.

  Shadiyah exited the flat, not bothering to shut the door behind her. She returned to the flat where her sister had jumped and made herself look out the window. The fire had moved away from her location and was engulfing what she was almost certain had to be the Wortley Recreation Grounds where one of the rescue centers had been located.

  Once more she simply stood for an indeterminate length of time just staring out at the vista of destruction. She briefly considered Simon’s note, and then discarded the idea of joining those people.

  No, Shadiyah thought, she did not need to join anybody. Still, watching the fire as well as the hordes of zombies seeming to converge from every direction, she did not want to stay here.

  After returning to the flat where all the supplies had been mercifully left for her to pick through, Shadiyah sat down to a meal of soup from a can and some crackers. As she sat and ate, her mind wandered. She had been cut loose. For some reason, that did not bother her. Instead, she felt strangely…

  “I am free,” she whispered.

  Not in the way that had once been the norm of free; no, this was a freedom that went beyond the norm. This was a freedom in its most pure sense. This was the freedom to commit good or evil. Only, it would be based on her own determination. She had already seen how, when given the choice to pass judgment, most people lacked the ability. They were accustomed to allowing others to do it for them and almost seemed afraid to make the tough choices. She had no such fear.

  She had discovered something when she had executed those bastards. In that moment, she felt a sense of peace that she had never in her life experienced before. That single moment had been the purest bliss, and now she craved it more than anything in her life.

  She was still eating when she heard what sounded like a distant scream. Rising to her feet, she absently checked the scimitar at her hip and went to the door. She listened for another few seconds. The sound came again along with a furious pounding and banging. All she could tell was that it was on one of the floors below. She was not sure of anything else beyond that.

  Shadiyah stepped out into the hall and ensured that it was empty. Nothing but the bodies of the slain littered the floor. Breaking into a slow jog, she made her way to the emergency exit and opened the door to the stairwell. The blackness was no longer something that scared her, but she knew better than to try and go down the stairs without being able to see. One wrong step could be her end.

  She clicked the button on the flashlight and started down. The banging had stopped, but the screaming was now more intense. It sounded like a man, but she could not be sure. What she could tell was that whoever was screaming was taking a beating. That was obvious by the way the sound would end with a sharp abruptness.

  When she stopped at the door and could be certain that the noise was in fact coming from that floor, she was surprised to discover that she was at the door that would open to the corridor where her own flat resided. That seemed strange, and then she heard the sound of somebody speaking. It was unintelligible until she opened the door a crack.

  “…any trouble, please just take what you want and leave me be,” the voice of an old man begged.

  “Where did you get all this shit?” a voice snarled, emphasized by a hard smack.

  “Henrietta—” the weak voice of Mr. Ivanoff gasped, but was cut off by another vicious sounding attack.

  “I told you to shut up about trying to tell me some old bird came and delivered food to you in the middle of a bloody zombie apocalypse,” the same voice that seemed to be doing all the talking spat.

  Shadiyah knew there were a couple of thugs with this ring leader simply because she could hear the hoots and laughing. She had no idea what weapons these animals might be carrying, so she would need to be careful as she approached. Entering the corridor, she set her flashlight down and drew her blade.

  Hugging the wall on the same side of the hall as the door to Mr. Ivanoff’s flat, she crept up cautiously. As she did, she could hear the clatter and crash of things being tossed about. With each step closer, she found a sense of calm becoming more and more prevalent.

  At last, she reached the open doorway. Crouching low, she peered around the corner. At the end of the hall she could see old Mr. Ivanoff sprawled on the floor. He was bleeding from his nose as well as a nasty cut above his right eye which was already swelling shut. Standing over him was a tall, skinny male wearing an ill-fitting jacket that looked like it had been stolen from somebody twice his size. His dark hair was styled into a drooping Mohawk with the sides of his head sporting nothing but stubble. Even from behind she could see a number of hoops and such dangling from both ears.

  Beyond the scene playing out just a few feet away, she saw at least three more young males, none looking much older than mid-to-late teens, digging through a collection of boxes and bags that were on the floor in the living room. She actually recognized one of the large burlap totes that Mrs. Raye had carried when they were out scavenging. Tins of all sorts of things were scattered on the floor, but there was a large black carry bag that looked to be where they were putting things they had decided to take. As she watched, she saw one of the looters hold up a plastic bottle of some sort.

  “What the blazes is puh-silly-um husk?” the one holding the plastic container asked.

  “It’s psyllium, you dolt. It helps you crap better,” one of the others answered. “My auntie used to take it.”

  That answer seemed to satisfy the one asking the question. He also apparently deemed it unnecessary and tossed it on the floor, giving the container a stomp with his boot for added measure.

  Shadiyah took in a long breath and held it as she rose to her feet. She moved silently down the entry hall until she knew that she was in range. Due to the confined space, she could only thrust, driving the sharp point through the back of the head right at the base of where it attached to the neck. She actually felt the blade shiver off the spinal column just a bit as it drove through.
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br />   Yanking back, she brought her knee up to stop the body from colliding with her. The look of astonishment on Mr. Ivanoff’s face was a mix of relief and terror in a confusing mask of wide eyes and open mouth, but Shadiyah paid him only a second’s worth of attention as she winked and stepped past his prone figure.

  Entering the living room, she saw that there were only three males accompanying their now dead leader. (She supposed him to be the leader since he was doing all the talking.) The closest was immediately to her left. He was kneeling over an open box, holding what looked like a container of instant oats. With a backhanded swipe, she brought her blade around and buried it in his face perfectly bisecting his wide open mouth that was making an ‘O’ of surprise at that instant.

  She had to bring up her foot and shove her latest victim away and off her blade. Surprisingly, he did not seem dead yet and was making a horrific amount of noise. The other two had been stunned to the point of inaction and were just staring at her. One was holding an economy size package of bog rolls and the other had an open tin of sardines that he was obviously stuffing into his own mouth; a hint of oil dripped down his chin as evidence.

  Knowing that her advantage of surprise was about to come to a conclusion, she jumped up on a squat end table and brought her blade down hard. The man threw up an arm and her blow dug into the shoulder, the feel of bone breaking under the blow sending a buzz of electric pain to Shadiyah’s hands.

  This man howled in agony, his noises adding to the strange gurgles of his comrade that was thrashing back and forth, hands over his mouth as blood poured through his fingers. The one uninjured man had an apparent lack of desire to confront this crazed woman and ran for the door. Unfortunately for him, he did not take into account the possibility that the old man he hurtled would try to trip him.

  He stumbled and crashed into the corpse in the middle of the hall that had been the first of the group to fall. His breath came out in a loud grunt and exhale. He was trying to scramble to his knees when Shadiyah came up behind him. She thrust her blade into his back and then pulled out. He howled and flopped over, throwing up his hands and crying for mercy.