“You mean when the clothes are wet and the bag is heavier?”
“Exactly,” she giggled.
“You think that with solar power some of the washing machines would be working, wouldn’t you?”
“You need a 5kW just to power one house, chap.” Rowley grunted and twisted his neck. “Those panels were all we could find. In the first month, John used to run his washing machine off a power inverter. And even then—”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Vince rudely interrupted. “Great story, Steve, but which chapter do you shut the fuck up?”
Stephen ignored Vince’s remark and they walked for three minutes in complete silence.
*
The two men, Alan and John, were exhausted and were completely sleep deprived. With Alan, the tallest one, carrying an almost empty rucksack, they trudged their way over a large field, almost out of breath, their thighs aching with pain.
“Where to now?” the smallest guy, John, asked his companion. John was injured, holding onto his left leg as he was moving.
“No idea.” The man with the rucksack shook his head and pointed over to a huddle of trees. “But we need to go through them to continue forwards.”
John nodded and they both stopped walking and looked behind to see how things were. It looked grim.
The pair of them had earlier gone for a nap by a tree. They usually took turns, one keeping guard, but they were so exhausted that they couldn’t help themselves once they sat down. Before their nap, they hadn’t slept for almost forty-eight hours. The lack of sleep was bad enough, but things were about to become worse for the two men.
Their nap had been short-lived.
John, the shorter of the two, had released a scream as one of the dead was biting into his lower leg, through his jeans.
A second later and the pair of them were wide-awake, and his taller companion immediately picked up his rucksack and helped his friend to his feet. He kicked the dead beast over and then the two fled, with John hobbling in pain. Alan had looked over his shoulder and could see five of the dead shambling towards them, but there were dozens behind. He could have left his friend, but they had been through so much together.
There used to be four guys in the beginning. Two of them had been killed, but they weren’t victims of the dead; they had been killed by people, other survivors.
When it was four of them, they were taken hostage by some farm people, tied up, and two of their friends were taken away and never seen again. They assumed correctly that the farm people had resorted to cannibalism to survive.
Thanks to a mysterious stranger, who they had also met again a week later in the woods, they were released and wasted no time getting out of there, but survival had been hard since then.
They scraped and scavenged, and had many episodes with the dead. A few days ago they had a run in with a gang of four men that had chased them into the woods. They had to hide in a ditch as the men passed by, and they could hear them talking and it appeared the leader was called Hando.
And now this. The danger was relentless.
The two of them continued to gaze as the dead poured out of the woods. Alan, the tall guy with the rucksack, guessed that there were at least fifty of them, and was aware that there could be many still in the woods and heading to the outdoors.
“Just leave me here,” the shorter man cried and nodded down to his injured leg. “I’m fucked anyway.”
“True.” The man with the rucksack nodded. “But I’m not leaving you here to die in agonising pain. You deserve better than that.”
“What now?”
“Maybe once we get through those trees there could be a road, maybe a village nearby.” The taller man shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. There must be something in this area rather than just trees and fucking fields.”
The pair continued to move, the shorter man now holding onto his pal’s shoulder for support. They were forty yards from the trees and both looked over their shoulders again and could see the dead gaining on them. Three of them were ahead of the rest of the crowd, and the man with the rucksack told his companion that they needed to increase their pace. Alan knew that if he was on his own he’d be able to outrun the dead with ease, but his injured friend was holding him back and a thought filled his mind.
If things got worse, maybe he would need to leave him.
It’d be a horrendous way to go, but he was screwed anyway, and it’d be better than two people dying.
They continued for a further few yards in the long grass, and Alan felt a sudden pain in his left ankle as they got closer to the trees. The tall man released a shriek as the pain shot through his leg. Alan looked down and could see his ankle trapped in a spring animal coil trap.
“Fuck!” he screamed. “Fuck!” His pal hobbled over to him and looked around and pointed to his left, to the ground. “There’re two more over there.”
Alan cried, “Help me get this off!”
Only minutes before, he was thinking about ditching his friend, and now he was injured himself, albeit not infected. Was this karma punishing him for even thinking about leaving his friend to an agonising death?
His friend struggled to get down to his knees, and hopelessly tried to free the stubborn metal jaws that had clasped the bottom of Alan’s leg.
“Hurry up!” the tall man screamed as the horde progressed. There were dozens shambling together, but in front of the horde were three others that seemed quicker than the rest of the dead. “They’re getting closer.”
The two men had another look behind and could see that the three dead were only yards away.
With tears in his eyes, John said, “Sorry, Alan. I have to go.”
He stood up and hobbled away, whilst his friend began to scream at him not to leave him alone. The tall man did everything he could to open the metal jaws of the trap. He managed to get the jaws open wide enough to pull his foot through, but by that time the three dead were on him and began to tear him apart. The pain was even worse than what Alan had imagined over the months, and couldn’t suppress the blood curdling screams that escaped from his mouth.
His injured friend limped as fast as he possible could, which wasn’t that fast, and tried to hum in his head a Radiohead tune to drown out his friend’s screams. He didn’t turn around; he continued to hobble along the grass and entered the small section of trees.
“I’m sorry, mate,” John cried. “I’m so sorry.”
The idea of turning into one of those freaks frightened the life out of John, but being ripped apart by them frightened him the more. Despite knowing that that kind of demise would only take seconds, it was something he wanted to avoid.
His vision was now blurred and he could hardly see a thing. He was growing tired and could hear the sound of groaning and snarling from behind.
His legs were like lead and he was finding it hard to move them at all, his head spinning and nausea growing.
Was this him beginning to change? Was the infection starting already?
He hadn’t changed just yet, but he was technically infected, so it was just a matter of time. So did that mean the dead would just pass him by? Could they know or sense that he was tainted meat? He wasn’t sure, and sure as hell didn’t want to put it to the test if he could avoid it, and did everything he could to continue to move.
He stood to the top of the grassy hill and looked down. The descent was quite steep, and at the bottom of the hill were country lanes, a pub at the bottom of the hill, and a garden centre further on to the right. He looked at the view and could see the villages of Colwich, Little and Great Haywood. He had given up.
Tears ran out of his eyes as he turned around once more. The first dead being was just seconds away from grabbing him.
It was pointless. Fleeing was pointless.
John fell to his knees, curled up in a ball and began to cry. He waited for the first bite and felt the teeth on the side of his neck before it was ripped open.
Chapter Forty Four
Vince, Stephen and Joanne reached the Wolseley Bridge and went down the steep grassy bank, near the place where Vince and Pickle had met Peter and Roger days before. Joanne struggled to get down the dirt incline without slipping, so Vince gave her his hand, but she stubbornly refused.
“Here’ll do,” said Joanne.
“Okay.” Stephen nodded.
They all stopped walking and looked at the fast flowing river where the washing was going to take place, but Vince was now regretting his decision to go with the pair of them. He was bored already, a little sleep deprived, and was beginning to get a headache.
“Did you hear that?” Joanne asked Vince.
“Hear what?” Vince responded and released a loud yawn.
“I thought I heard a scream.” She pointed in the distance at the top of a hilly field that was behind the Wolseley Arms pub. “I think it came from that direction.”
“You probably did, so what?” Vince sighed. “Let’s just get these clothes washed before I fall asleep.”
Vince was about to help Joanne take the dirty clothes out of the rucksack, but he stopped moving altogether.
Something had caught his eye.
He clocked the large house across the road, twenty yards down. It was the same house that Paul Dickson had been to, when he found out that he was in a house full of naked Snatchers. His eyes widened as he could see a guy with ginger hair taking a piss out on the front garden. Then the man stretched his arms, yawned, and looked to be taking in some of the fresh air. Once the individual turned around, Vince shook his head and grinded his teeth in anger.
“Bastard,” Vince said under his breath, once he recognised that it was the same guy that was holding the canister of petrol at their gate.
“What is it?” Rowley asked and stood next to Vince.
“That cheeky cunt over there,” Kindl cussed and pointed over at the ginger fellow.
“They didn’t flee very far,” Rowley said, then grunted, cleared his throat, and twisted his neck, making Vince wince in disgust.
Vince said with a snarl, “In some camps people would have been killed for what they did.”
“Well, you know what Pickle said, chap. About not holding a grudge.”
“But they set fire to all of our vehicles.”
“I know,” Stephen said. He smiled thinly and placed his hand on Vince’s shoulder. “But they never targeted people, did they, chap?”
“It’s not the point.” Vince could see that Joanne was oblivious to what was happening and what they were talking about. She had already started washing the clothes whilst the men were conversing with one another.
“Even if you did go over there, chap,” Rowley began. “Are you gonna butcher three people because they set fire to a few cars. Really?”
“They’re staying at the house. Don’t you think it’s a bit too close to comfort, a little cheeky and disrespectful, after what they did?”
“Mmm.” Stephen rubbed his chin and added, “I think you may have a point there, chap. Maybe when Pickle gets back he could go over there with some others and threaten them to leave and go elsewhere.”
Stephen didn’t seem irked about the presence of one of the guys that had taken out all of their vehicles, and took the bag off of his shoulder and began to take some of the garments out. He dropped to his knees and leaned over. He pulled out a bar of soap from the bag, dipped the first item of clothing into the river, and then rubbed the soap against the fabric, dipping it once again.
Vince gazed at Stephen and said, “Doesn’t it bother you that they’re just a few hundred yards away?”
“Just need to get on with it, chap.”
Vince continued to look over and gulped when he had been spotted. From afar, both men gawped at one another, both unsure what to do next.
The ginger guy began yelling, and seconds later the other two guys appeared from out of the house. The three men left the premises, crossed the barren road, and began to make their way over.
“Er … guys,” Vince said, watching the three men descend down the hill and by the canal. “I think we may have a little problem.”
Both Joanne and Stephen were on their knees, dunking clothing, and turned to their left and could see what Vince could see. Both were shocked and nervous and quickly got to their feet.
“What do we do?” Joanne said with a shiver.
Vince shook his head. “Dunno yet.”
Joanne and Stephen stood next to Vince and watched as the men walked briskly towards them, and only stopped once there was ten yards between them.
“You’ve got a nerve coming over here,” Vince began, his hand on the handle of his machete. “Especially after what you’ve done.”
“And you’ve got a nerve for turning us away.” The leader with the thick eyebrows spoke up, and was only a few feet from Vince, with Rowley and a petrified Joanne now lingering behind.
Eyebrows and his other two pals reached into their pockets.
“Don’t bother.” Vince nodded down to his large blade. “I may not be able to take the three of you out, but I’ll give it a good fucking try.”
“You should have let us in,” Eyebrows snarled.
“And you should have gone somewhere a bit further away. When Pickle finds out...”
“Pickle?” The ginger guy scratched at his head. “Pickle? Is that the guy that turned us down?”
Vince nodded. “And with the way you lot were behaving, I think it’s justified, don’t you?”
“Selfish cunts, the lot of you!” Ginger yelled.
“We’re just looking after ourselves. It’s nothing personal; it’s just that we—”
“Save your fucking speech.”
“Now, now. Let’s not be nasty.”
Without warning, the leader with the thick eyebrows ran at Vince and rugby tackled him to the floor. Yells filled the air and Rowley kicked at the man that was on top of Vince, whilst Joanne screamed out. The leader with the thick eyebrows started to rain punches into Vince’s face and the two men rolled around on the dirt. The two men standing stood back and watched Vince and their pal roll around on the floor like a couple of boys in a playground. Suddenly, a scream came from the man on the floor with Vince, alerting Rowley and the other two men, and making Joanne gasp.
Vince stood up and all of them could see that his mouth was covered with blood, but the blood belonged to Eyebrows and had had his cheek torn open with Vince’s teeth.
Ginger and the quiet guy pulled out their blades. They ran at Vince as he stood up, but Rowley kicked the quiet guy in the shins as Vince reached for his machete and spat out the piece of flesh he had in his mouth.
As Eyebrows was still hunched over, screaming and holding his face, Vince took a swipe with his large blade at the quiet man and tore out his throat, almost severing his head.
Joanne screamed out at the grisly sight, but it never deterred Ginger from running at Vince. Both men fell to the ground, both dropping their weapons, and Rowley could see the injured leader, Eyebrows, running at him.
Rowley, who had never been a fighter in the old world, clasped his knife nervously, waiting for what was about to occur, and both men began to swipe their knives at one another, only cutting the air and some of their clothes. Stephen then caught the leader on the chest, tearing open his shirt, but the wound was superficial. Eyebrows had lost his balance and Stephen saw an opening and rammed his knife into the leader’s side, just below his liver. Leader looked down at the knife sticking out of his body in aghast and staggered away, trying to escape.
Suddenly, Joanne came to life. She saw that Vince was still struggling with Ginger. She picked up the knife that he had dropped earlier and released a scream as she drove the knife into the man’s back. He collapsed on top of Vince and both Joanne and Rowley helped to drag him off.
Vince sat up, trying to get his breath back and looked at the carnage.
He saw to his right, just on the edge of the river, that Ginger was dead, knife sticking out. To his left was the qu
iet guy who lay in a bloody mess, almost decapitated form Kindl’s solitary strike, and could see the leader of the rabble, staggering away from the three of them, clearly injured.
Vince stood to his shaky feet and asked if everybody was okay. Both Stephen and Joanne nodded, but they both looked clearly shaken, especially Joanne.
Vince nodded down to Ginger’s body and asked Joanne, “Is that your first time killing somebody?”
She nodded. Too upset to release words.
“Right,” said Vince. He picked up his machete and pointed over at the staggering leader. “Time to finish him off.”
“He took a knife in the belly, chap,” Rowley commented. “I don’t think he’ll be going far.”
“Good.” Vince pointed at the bag and clothes that were lying on the grass. “Let’s pack this shit up. Washing has been cancelled for today.”
Vince began to walk along the bank whilst Rowley and Joanne were packing up and throwing their bags over their shoulders.
“Chap!” Rowley called out, as he could see Vince heading in the same direction as the last remaining member of the gang of three. “Leave him. He’s a goner.”
“We need to walk this way anyway to get back to Colwyn.”
“Oh. Of course.”
Vince gazed at the struggling man who was now a fair distance away, and began to jog along the bank. The further he got nearer to the bridge, the less he could see of the injured man.
Vince then heard a scream pierce the air. He pulled out his machete and increased his pace as he hit the incline to get to the main road.
He reached the road and could see two of the dead attacking the guy, pulling him to the ground. Still holding his machete, Vince turned away as he heard that familiar cry of pain, and didn’t turn back round until the screaming had stopped.
He released a sigh and was about to do what he had done many times before. The two dead were females and he stood over one of them, bringing his machete back, over his head. One strike was enough to put it down. He then side stepped to the final one and did the same action, but he didn’t bring the blade down straightaway.
The Dead Don't Yell Page 21
