Autumn

by David Moody

  ‘How dare you?’ he screamed. ‘How dare you treat me like this? Show some respect, will you? I’ve been working flat out all morning while you’ve been sat on your backsides doing nothing. If I stopped working, this place would grind to a halt. Well, things are going to change round here. I’m not going to carry you anymore, do you hear me? From now on you’re on your own.’

  Still nothing.

  Simon grabbed Janice Phelps by the scruff of her neck and screamed into her green-tinged face. ‘Are you even listening to me?’

  Janice wasn’t, but the other bodies in the banking hall clearly were. The dead hordes began to beat their rotting fists against the walls, driven wild by the desperate man’s voice. Simon ignored them as best he could. ‘There’s not a lot that any of us can do today, not until the power comes back on,’ he continued, now fractionally calmer. ‘I’m going to shut the branch and I suggest we all go home. We’ll come back tomorrow morning and try again, okay?’

  He looked around the room but no one said anything. The hammering on the wall behind him continued unabated.

  Simon remained standing in the middle of the manager’s office for a moment, surrounded by his dead colleagues, and he realised he actually felt a little better. The others hadn’t agreed with him but, unusually, they hadn’t banded together and turned against him either. More importantly, he’d just taken a managerial decision and no one had argued. Could it be that he was about to be shown some respect? Had the rest of them finally realised just how important he was to this branch and to the company? Bloody hell, he thought, maybe he should try the same approach when he got back home tonight? Maybe he could make his family listen too?

  ‘I’m going to lock up,’ he said, his voice cocksure and uncharacteristically strong.

  Simon still had the key in his pocket from when he’d opened up hours earlier. Brimming with unexpected confidence he stepped over the outstretched feet of Tom’s body (he’d slid off the chair again) and left the manager’s room. He walked through the back-office to the security door which separated the staff area from the customers. Security conscious and procedure-driven as always, he peered through the fish-eye lens viewing hole before going through.

  Bloody hell, the banking hall was full of customers now. Now this was how it should be on a Monday. With no computers working and no cash in his till he couldn’t serve any of them of course, so he’d just have to go out and make an announcement. He’d tell the customers what was going to happen in exactly the same way he’d just told the staff. He was getting pretty damn good at taking charge.

  A deep breath and he opened the door. A huge mass of rotting flesh immediately surged towards him. Oblivious to the danger, Simon pushed deeper into the crowd, wading through, fighting to keep moving forward as the dead pushed against him.

  ‘If I could have your attention for a second please, ladies and gentlemen,’ he shouted, struggling to stay upright. Another wave of decaying corpses came at him from the general direction of the main entrance and knocked him off-balance. He was being pushed further back into the building and he reached out to try and steady himself. The movement of the bodies backed him up against the wooden counter. He climbed up onto the other side of his till position and stood tall above the crowd. Before trying to speak again he brushed himself down. He was covered in stains from the customers. He picked bits of them off his shirt and tie.

  ‘Now look,’ he shouted, ‘I’m sorry but we’ve got some problems here today. Our computer systems are down and staff shortages mean that we’ve not been able to get into the safe. I apologise for any inconvenience, but I’m going to have to ask you all to leave. If you’d like to come back tomorrow morning I’m sure we’ll be able to…’

  Another forward surge from the crowd distracted him. The sound of his voice seemed to be generating plenty of interest and the bank was filling up now instead of emptying. More and more customers were trying to get inside. The situation was getting out of hand.

  ‘Please listen. I realise this is unusual and I understand you’ve all been inconvenienced, but I do need your cooperation. There really is nothing more I can do for you today. Come back tomorrow when I’ll be more than happy to help…’

  But they still weren’t listening. Even more people were coming into the building. Simon couldn’t stand it when people didn’t listen to him. ‘Let’s have some respect here,’ he yelled, shouting at the top of his voice again to make sure even the people still struggling to get inside could hear him. ‘A little common-sense, please…’

  Simon had gradually edged further and further along the counter. He now found himself at the far end of the banking hall, opposite the doors he’d originally come out here to close. Between him and the other end of the long, narrow space was a mass of at least a hundred furious customers. He looked down into the faces of the nearest few. Christ, they looked riled. If he wasn’t careful this situation might turn nasty. He banged on the wall behind him, hoping one of the others in the manager’s room would come and help, none of them did. The staff meeting which he’d called seemed now to be continuing in his absence.

  ‘Could I have a hand out here please,’ he shouted, watching anxiously as another wave of bodies attempted to cram themselves into the already tightly-packed building. ‘Tom, Brian… could one of you come and—’

  His words were abruptly cut short when several of the corpses, with nowhere else to go, reached up for him. One of them managed to catch hold of his grubby bank uniform trousers. He tried to pull away but lost his footing and slipped down from the counter, falling into the bodies like a bizarre middle-aged crowd surfer at a concert. Fearing for his safety, he covered his head with his hands and curled up into a ball. Then, crawling on his hands and knees across the heavily stained terracotta carpet, he began to move, weaving between the decomposing feet which surrounded him. For a fraction of a second he wondered if he should try to help get the others out, but he knew he couldn’t go back. It was too late. The momentary flickering flame of defiance which had burned briefly today had been extinguished just as quickly as it had been lit. Terrified, he closed his eyes and kept pushing forward, working his way around the bodies. He accidentally knocked a handful of them down and they fell into each other like dominos, only to be trampled by others. He kept on moving, forcing himself forward inch by painfully slow inch until he was level with the front door of the bank. Should he try and stand up to close and lock it? Hating himself for being so weak, Simon instead kept on crawling until he was out of the building, and had made it down the ramp and onto the street. The crowd slightly thinner there, he picked himself up and started to run, glancing back at the overrun bank before sprinting home.

  #

  Ten o’clock. A half-eaten can of cold baked beans and three-quarters of a bottle of whiskey later.

  The house was silent, save for the occasional thump from Matthew, who really should have been in bed by now. Simon sat alone in darkness at the kitchen table, his head in his hands. He couldn’t stop thinking about the events of the day now ending. It was bad enough that he’d left the bank wide open and abandoned his colleagues, but that wasn’t the worst of it. For a moment back there, he’d actually felt like somebody. It had felt good. It had felt damn good. But he’d been brought back down to earth with a bang. He was still a nobody. A forty-seven year old stationery clerk and cashier with no prospects, a family that had virtually disowned him, and an increasingly uncertain future. Maybe he should accept the hand that had been dealt him and just get on with it? Stick with what you know, that had always been one of his late father’s favourite sayings. Don’t take risks and don’t take chances. We’re not all made for great things. The world will always need the little men too. Stick with what you know.

  Simon got up and walked out into the hallway, dragging his feet. He paused to look out at the crowd of bodies at the end of his drive before climbing the stairs to bed, a final generous tumbler of whiskey in hand. He undressed, put his dirty shirt in the washing basket
with all the others, then put on his pyjamas. He could still hear Jamie banging around in his bedroom. Bloody teenagers. He should be resting or studying. One day my son, he thought, all these problems will be yours. If only he knew what he had to put up with every day. His attitude would soon change if he was the one who had to face the daily indignities and humiliations of office politics. Christ, he hoped Jamie didn’t make the same mistakes he had. If he’d worked harder at school and not just taken the first job he’d been offered after leaving, maybe things would have been different. Then again, maybe not.

  No point dwelling on all that now, he thought as he climbed into bed beside June. She had her back to him, still in the same position as he’d left her this morning. She hadn’t done the washing or the shopping. In fact, it looked like she’d spent another day in bed. Bloody hell, she didn’t know how easy she had it.

  He wrapped his arm around his wife’s rapidly putrefying torso and pulled her close. He wished she’d talk to him. He didn’t want to go to sleep yet. He wanted someone to listen to his problems and tell him he was doing his best, that it was the rest of them who’d got it wrong. But June wasn’t interested, and the silence was deafening.

  Simon felt humiliated and let down by everyone, even those closest to him. He’d tried so hard today but, ultimately, all he’d done was make matters worse. Christ, how was he going to face them all at work tomorrow?

  BEGINNING TO DISINTEGRATE

  Part iv

  ‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,’ Jas said, leaning over the front seats of the van. Hollis was behind the wheel, Harte and Gordon beside him. Jas was in the back with his bike and as much food and drink as they’d been able to load up from the supermarket before the swollen crowds of bodies around the building had forced them out.

  ‘I’m serious,’ Gordon said. ‘I know this isn’t the nicest of spots, but it’s got everything you said we were looking for.’

  ‘They were in the middle of knocking the bloody place down. Doesn’t that tell you something?’

  They’d stopped on a stretch of road overlooking a huge and particularly ugly-looking block of flats. More accurately, the one remaining huge and particularly ugly-looking block. Next to it, an enormous pile of rubble and a half-demolished neighbour. Further down the hill, a masonry-strewn space where, until recently, a third block had obviously stood.

  ‘They were knocking it down,’ Hollis said, ‘but they’re dead. It looks strong enough to me. For the record, I think you might be onto something here, Gordon. It might not be The Ritz, but it does have its advantages.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Safety, security, difficult to access… do I need to go on?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jas said, still not convinced.

  Hollis sighed and flicked on the wipers to clear the glass and get a better view. A lone corpse buzzed around the outside of the van.

  ‘Much as I hate to admit this, Gord,’ Harte said, ‘I think you might be right. This place is good. There’s gonna be plenty of space in there, and it’s only a stop-gap, isn’t it? Once things settle down again we can move on.’

  Hollis chuckled to himself. ‘Once things settle down again! Bloody idiot. You make me laugh, Harte. Ever the bloody optimist.’

  ‘And look at the geography of the place,’ Gordon said. ‘It’s on a hill.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Two things. First, I know we don’t know a lot about what’s going on right now, but one thing we do know is the dead still obey the laws of physics, don’t they?’

  ‘What are you on about?’ Jas grumbled.

  ‘Think about it… the bodies will have no trouble falling, but they’ll have real problems trying to get back up.’

  ‘He’s got a point,’ Hollis said, sounding more surprised than he should have.

  ‘I said I’d got two points, actually,’ Gordon continued, indignant. ‘Being up on a hill like this means it’ll be easy for other people to see us too, doesn’t it? If we get some lights in the windows, that kind of thing, anyone else will see us for miles around.’

  It pained him to admit it, but Jas knew he was right. More than that, he knew he was outnumbered. ‘So if we are going to stay here, we’re going to need to make sure it’s completely clear, right?’

  ‘Right,’ Harte said.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Hollis asked.

  Jas leant forward again and pointed to the general area around the base of the apartment block. ‘We need to get that space cleared and barricade it as soon as we’re done. Make a fucking noise, draw out the dead, then kick ‘em down to the bottom of the hill and block ourselves in.’

  ‘And how are you planning on doing that?’

  ‘I’ll use the bike. You watch me, mate. I’ll be like the fucking Pied Piper out there.’

  #

  Jas had always loved the noise his bike made. It was such a loud, ugly, brash, fuck off to everything. Now they were having to stay increasingly quiet to survive, and riding the bike allowed him to vent his frustrations. He felt like screaming most of the time, and this was just about the only way he still could.

  Hollis, Harte and Gordon were where he’d left them, parked up overlooking the flats, engine off. They watched from a distance as he cruised the maze of narrow streets behind the grotesque building. It was a bizarre sight, strangely surreal. Often he would disappear, only to emerge again a few seconds later with a slowly marching crowd of bodies in his wake. Once he’d got enough of them following, he’d drive down the steep hill and the dead would trickle after him. And Gordon had been right: once they were down at the bottom, they struggled to get back up.

  ‘We’ll keep pushing them back,’ Hollis said, feeling increasingly confident and positive. ‘It’s perfect. All that space at the foot of the hill… we’ll build some kind of barrier. There are diggers down there from the demolition, and more cars than we’re ever going to need. We’ll clear this bloody place and make it our own. Stop those fucking things getting anywhere near us.’

  Neither Harte nor Gordon said anything. They both agreed, but the idea of all that work didn’t appeal. For now they were happy to sit back and watch the bizarre, almost comical sight unfolding in front of them. The trickle of bodies had become a veritable torrent now, a river of death slowly flooding down the hill, pooling at the bottom.

  #

  Several hours later.

  With the vast majority of the local corpses now forming a single vile decaying mass at the bottom of the hill, Hollis risked driving the van around to the flats. He parked in the shadows. Gordon opened the door to go inside the building and, almost immediately, the foetid remains of a demolition worker, still wearing his high-vis jacket and safety helmet, lunged at him from out of nowhere. Gordon fell back, the corpse on top of him. ‘You’re fucking useless, Gord,’ Jas said as he ripped off the dead man’s helmet then swung at his head with his crowbar, splitting his skull and sending him flying.

  ‘We’re going to have to check this whole place out,’ Hollis said. ‘Every room. Shouldn’t take long.’

  Gordon held back, keen to let the others go first. They each armed themselves with makeshift weapons, then grouped at the main entrance. ‘We should split up,’ Jas suggested.

  ‘You never seen a horror film before?’ Harte joked. Jas remained stony-faced.

  ‘You come with me,’ he told him. ‘Hollis, you get Gordon.’

  The building reminded Hollis of a three-cornered hat. He and Gordon went left while the other two went right.

  Gordon’s initial nervousness seemed to reduce with each door they opened and every empty apartment they found. ‘We’re lucky to have come across this place,’ he said, chattering anxiously. Hollis shoved another door open and they quickly checked out the few rooms within the flat: an open-plan living area and kitchen, a dingy bathroom and two bedrooms. The decoration was old and tired, the entire place stripped bare save for a couple of piles of rubbish left by the former occupants.

  ‘Lucky?’ Hollis said
when they were done. ‘How do you work that out?’

  ‘Because this place is in such a good position and it’s already been vacated. Imagine if it had still been full of families.’

  ‘Then we wouldn’t have given it a second glance,’ he answered, working hard and becoming increasingly annoyed that Gordon wasn’t. ‘We’d have just kept going. Maybe we should have anyway. Jas said he was working security at a mall that hadn’t been opened, imagine that. Still, I guess this’ll do for now.’

  Gordon followed Hollis as he finished checking the flat then moved onto the next. Hollis opened the door, then paused. Not empty. Something here… He’d only taken two steps in when it came at him – another demolition worker corpse, staggering like a dead weight. Gordon squealed like a baby and ran for cover but Hollis wasn’t fazed. He grabbed the dead man by the lapels of his donkey jacket and swung him around, then forced him out of the door and out to the balcony. The body couldn’t match his speed or coordination, its dead feet scrambling on the ground for purchase. Too late. With a heave of effort, Hollis upended it. Gordon looked down, then looked away again. On the ground below, the dead thing’s head popped open like an overripe watermelon; a star-shaped puddle of bright red in all the dusty grey.

  ‘Don’t know how I’d cope without you here to help,’ Hollis said sarcastically, wiping his hands clean on the back of his jeans as he walked towards the neighbouring flat.

  The next door along was blocked. Hollis waited for Gordon to show some initiative, but he wasn’t showing any. ‘What?’ he grumbled.

  ‘Your turn,’ Hollis said. ‘Come on, break a sweat.’

  Gordon pushed the door but it wouldn’t open. He looked to Hollis for help, but Hollis just looked back at the door. This one was his. Gordon took a step back, then shoulder-charged. The door flew open, and he flew through. Hollis was about to follow him inside when he came flying back out the other way, a girl holding him by the neck. She slammed him up against the wall opposite, almost tipping him over the balcony like Hollis had the body from the previous apartment, and he whimpered. Hollis tried to pull her off him. He hadn’t seen a corpse as vicious as this one before.