by Ryan Colley
I stumbled out of the door, swaying madly. Head rushes and weak legs the sole cause. I walked down a couple steps only to realise I was in the bar of the boathouse. The one I had drank and eaten in many years ago. The same one I had passed out in on my arrival, whenever that was.
It was dimly lit, the only light coming from a glow around the corner. I followed it uneasily, holding onto the bar. I rounded the corner, stumbled into the dining area, and saw two people at a round table, eating food by candlelight. They seemed unaware of my presence and ate in silence.
The man was a huge guy, more muscles than fat. Probably his boiler suit I was wearing. He had a shaved head and had black skin. Looked middle-aged. Middle-aged as in older, not middle-aged as in medieval. The woman was petite and ginger. I couldn’t tell how old she was. Had one of those faces that could look twenty-five in one light and fifty in another.
“Uh, hi?” I said. The two at the table jumped, and the man reached for something. A gun, perhaps? After they saw it was me, they looked at each other, silently communicating the way only couples could. There was an awkward silence.
The woman finally broke it with a soft voice, “Why don’t you join us?”
CHAPTER 15
It was awkward at first. I shuffled uneasily into one of the extra seats at the table. A relief to be off my feet, even though I hadn’t been on them for long. There were a few more moments of silence before the man, who I recognised as the one who saved me, broke it.
“Hungry?” he asked between mouthfuls of food. Their meal looked like a basic roast dinner. Chicken, potatoes, peas, carrots, and gravy. It looked and smelled fantastic. I nodded dumbly, not able to bring any words to my mouth. With that, the woman got up and walked in, what I assumed was, the direction of the kitchen.
“I’m Gary,” the man said after a further silence. He clasped his hands and elbows on the table, and rested his chin on his hands. His brow was furrowed, and he stared at me intensely, like he was sizing me up.
“Sam,” I said. “Thanks for, uh, saving me back there.”
“Wouldn’t have been very Christian of me not to,” he replied, the corner of his mouth twisting into a small smile. “The lady, she’s my gorgeous wife. Her name is Tracey.”
“Thank you again,” I nodded.
I was pleased to have been rescued and given a place at their table. Yet I couldn’t see why they had saved me.
I must’ve looked puzzled because Gary cocked his head and asked, “What’s up?”
“How did you know you could trust me?” I decided to go for the blunt approach. “I mean, I don’t look like the most trustworthy of people as it is, plus I’d been bitten. How’d you know I wouldn’t turn?”
“You look perfectly trustworthy to me,” Gary smiled, then added, “and what does being bit have to do with turning?”
“Huh?” I was taken aback.
“Being bit. Turning into one of those things. What’s the relationship?” Gary asked, clearly confused. He took a swig of his pint of, possibly, cider. When I didn’t answer, he said, “I assume turning into one of those things is what you meant.”
“I … uh,” I paused to compose my thoughts. “The bite carries the infection, brings you back as a zombie. You know, like in the films.”
“We’re not much of a film-watching couple, sorry,” Gary sat back in his chair, looking embarrassed. “Zombies?”
“Wait. What? Who hasn’t watched a zombie film?” I was a little lost on how to approach the subject. Something so deeply ingrained in my upbringing. “Zombies. You know, as in the … like, reanimated corpses? The dead that walk and all that.”
“I got that. We’ve seen them. Smelled them, too,” Gary said dryly. “Heard the word zombie before, too. Never really knew what it meant. Besides, I don’t think it’s just the bite that spreads infection. If at all.”
“Why’d you say that?” I was genuinely curious about what made him the expert, especially since he hadn’t even seen any films. Now that was insanity.
“You noticed you were handcuffed in a hospital bed, yeah?” Gary said. I nodded, resisting the urge to give a sarcastic answer. He opened his mouth to speak, shut it, and then opened it again. “Do you want the long version or the short version?”
“I’m not going anywhere. Give me the long version,” I laughed. He didn’t smile. Luckily, I was saved from the awkward situation. Tracey came back in with a plate full of food. A roast dinner. I smiled gratefully taking the food. “Cheers.”
“No worries, hun,” she said in a soft and kind voice. “I’m Tracey.”
“Sam,” I replied, “Nice to meet you both.”
Tracey smiled, but Gary looked grim, set to finish his story.
“I’m just telling the story about Mama,” he told Tracey, taking her hand and gently squeezing it. There was instant recognition in her eyes. Sadness as well. I didn’t know if I wanted to hear this tale.
“Okay,” she said softly, squeezing his hand back.
“I’m sorry to say this but, for this story to make sense, you need to hear how we met,” Gary said, with a short bark of laughter. Tracey rolled her eyes.
“I love hearing people’s stories,” I said, with a smile. I wasn’t entirely telling the truth.
“Well, you may be disappointed. There’s nothing romantic about this one,” Gary smiled. “My Mama got very ill a time ago and ended up being in and out of the hospital for a while. It got to a point where she spent more time in the hospital bed than her own. It was gut-wrenching to see. She was always a very proud and strong woman. The doctors said she would have to go into a care home. I couldn’t have that. I arranged it so that she would be at home with me. I bought all the necessary stuff, like the bed and medical equipment. Cost me a pretty penny or two. I hired a care assistant from an agency to take care of her, and Tracey turned up. She cost me a fair few pretty pennies as well!”
“Shush, you,” Tracey smiled, and Gary winked at her.
Still smiling, he continued, “We got to chatting over time. She treated Mama wonderfully, and we started to date. We married many years later. Eventually, we had to hire another care worker. It would’ve been strange if she carried on looking after Mama while we were married.”
I nodded.
“Mama was tenacious and lived a lot longer than any doctors expected. A couple weeks ago, she died. She got a real nasty flu bug, and that was it,” Gary said. By his tone, I could tell that he was building to the climax of his tale. “We had been expecting it. She’d been going downhill the preceding weeks. We called for someone to come and pick her up, just to move her. There were delays due to the goings-on in the city. The, uh, zombies. I went to pay my final respects to her, say one last goodbye. I nearly collapsed when I saw her. She was sat up in bed, something she hadn’t been able to do for so long! I was so happy, so relieved. I called out to her and went to hug her. Except … she threw herself out of the bed, at me. She hit the floor hard, and I saw her arm snap. It twisted away from her in the most horrible way imaginable. She didn’t even seem to notice! No cry of pain or anything. She kept coming towards me. I ran over to help her. I grabbed her arm, but – but she was so cold!”
A sob escaped. He stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, and wiped his eyes before carrying on.
“I tried to pull her up, but she bit me. Or she tried to, at least. She didn’t have her false teeth in, luckily. I tried to restrain her, but she didn’t stop thrashing. She caught my Tracey around the eye with a fist,” Gary said and stroked Tracey’s face.
“It wasn’t her,” Tracey said to Gary, sympathetically.
“I knew this wasn’t Mama anymore,” he said firmly. “I’d seen the news. I wasn’t stupid. We had both checked her, seen her heart monitor ourselves. She was dead, no doubt about it.”
“What did you do?” I asked. I hadn’t been aware of it, but I realised I’d been holding my breath.
When he didn’t answer, I was worried I had offended him. But that wasn’t the case
. He was simply deep in thought. Tracey answered for him.
“Neither of us could bring ourselves to end her life. She hadn’t done anything wrong,” Tracey said quietly. It was hard to hear her, but I believe she was just a soft-spoken woman. “We ended up tying her arms and legs with duct tape. Wrapped her in a tarp and locked her in one of the back rooms.”
My body went into survival mode. There was a zombie in the same building as me, and they were okay with it?! How did they sleep at night? I had seen the films. It wasn’t going to end well. She would break out, slip in when we were at our weakest, and … no. I couldn’t think like that. I had been wrong before, and so had the films. I couldn’t kill the zombie that used to be his mother. I was a guest in their home after all, but I was sure as hell going to be prepared.
“Your food is getting cold,” Gary interrupted my thoughts. “Eat up. I can continue the story when you’re finished.”
“Uh, thanks,” I said, mouth watering at the thought of food again. I picked up the fork and dug in. Then nodded approvingly at the tender chicken. It was definitely good food. I almost cried.
CHAPTER 16
I finished the food and would have asked for second helpings if I hadn’t felt like I was imposing. I offered to help clear up but was firmly told that I was a guest in their home and they would clear up. I didn’t mind at all. I hated clearing the table and doubted I would be of much use, but I still felt bad.
I was shown the way to a lounge area, which looked as though it was the social area of the boathouse. There were four two-seat sofas set in a square, facing each other. People would probably sit there after a meal and chat over a pint. I slumped down onto a sofa and looked at the area around me. There were paintings all over the walls. Odd bits and pieces, too. A steering wheel from an old ship hung on the wall. Rigging all over the ceiling. If a pirate ship and a pub decided to do the dirty, its offspring would probably look like the boathouse.
I felt hyper-vigilant the entire time I was there, my moments alone causing wild thoughts. I was in constant fear of Gary’s mother breaking out and sneaking up on me. Although, the undead didn’t seem to do much sneaking. Pain was starting to become apparent in my leg again. Did I need painkillers? I hoped not. I hated the feeling of it. But what I wanted and what I needed were often two different things.
The longer I was left alone, the more my attention wandered. I noticed things in my surroundings, like all the windows had thick sheets over them, probably to block out light from leaving, like towns throughout Britain did during the Blitz. At least the undead’s attention wouldn’t be drawn to our location.
A cluttering of cutlery behind me made me jump. My thoughts going to Mama having escaped. I jerked around and saw Gary and Tracey walking towards me. She carried a mug, Gary two.
“We didn’t know if you liked tea, but there isn’t any coffee. So we brought you one just in case,” Tracey said, with a shy smile.
“Love tea,” I took the mug and sipped the bitter, hot liquid. I accidentally let out an, “Ahh.”
“We have sugar if you want,” Gary nodded towards the bowl of sugar cubes.
“I’m good, thanks,” I shook my head.
I waited for a few moments, all of us deep in thought, before pushing forward with the subject on hand, “So what happened next?”
“By the time we tied her up,” Gary said, no context needed as it was the only thing on his mind, “things had already started to go bad here. The news wasn’t saying anything, but no one can stop people on the radio. Reports were coming in from all over Essex. Those creatures were everywhere. The place had essentially fallen. We didn’t have time to leave, so we bunkered down and decided to wait it out.”
He shrugged and sipped more of his tea.
“You won’t be able to wait it out here forever,” I said.
“Why not?” he sat up straight, annoyed by my accusation. “We have food, fresh water, and electricity. We can wait this out until we’re rescued!”
“This isn’t something you can just wait out,” I shook my head. “I came all the way from Bristol and saw nothing but the dead all the way. London has fallen. Bristol has fallen. Essex is no different. The British Army has disbanded. It’s every man for himself now. There’s no one coming.”
“Then we’ll survive here!” Gary shouted. He acted as if I was reminding him of his own mortality, and he had to defend himself.
“You can survive here, but you need to be prepared to leave. The electricity won’t run forever. It’ll turn off soon, and so will the water. What then? The food won’t last. You’re lucky we’re currently at the ass end of winter, but still … winter is coming. What then? What about heat? I’m not saying this to be mean, but you need to think ahead,” I said, with more sympathy this time. Perhaps I had been harsh to begin with. I placed a hand on his shoulder. That seemed to do the trick. He relaxed and slumped down.
“Shit,” he sighed.
Shit, indeed. I said, “You never explained how you knew the bite wouldn’t turn me into one of them.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Mama was never bit. She died of the flu and then came back. It must be in the air or something. That’s why we handcuffed you. We weren’t worried about you coming back from the bite. We were worried about you dying from your wounds and coming back in the night. Tracey did what she could to help you, with what we had. We honestly didn’t think you would pull through. Fever was tearing you apart. You were dehydrated and starving. Yet here you are. My Tracey is a pretty nifty nurse.”
He slapped her leg, and they leaned in for a kiss. My heart seized up and pangs of pain tore through my chest as thoughts went to Alice. Their kiss didn’t last long, but my pain did.
I waited for the loving look between them to finish before I said, “I can never thank you enough for saving me. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you.”
“You don’t need to,” Gary put his hand on my shoulder. “Helping others is its own reward. I’m sure you’ll help us without ever realising it. You don’t have anything to repay.”
“Cheers,” I smiled and looked at them both in the eyes. These were genuinely nice people, and I would miss them when I left. I said, “It was lucky you had handcuffs. Where did you find them?”
Tracey immediately flushed red and looked away.
Gary stumbled over his words before saying, “We, uh, had them, uh, lying around. Just had them.”
I looked back and forward between them before a massive grin spread over my face with realisation. The naughty buggers.
“Well, I definitely don’t have any more questions,” I stifled a laugh.
“We have our own share of questions for you,” Gary said after the embarrassed silence that followed the awkwardly hilarious moment. “We need to know a lot more. But for now, we all need rest. It’s late, and you’re still recovering.”
“You can sleep here on the sofa, or back in Mama’s old bed. The choice is yours,” Tracey stood and stretched.
“I’d rather sleep here, thank you,” the thought of Mama’s bed suddenly creeping me out. I didn’t want to sleep so close to windows with undead on the other side, but I was happier on the sofa than on a deathbed.
“Okay, brilliant,” Tracey said. “I’ll bring you some blankets. I have some antibiotics and painkillers for you. You need to carry on fighting the infection, and you’ll still be in quite a bit of pain for a while. We have the pills to keep that at bay. Try not to sleep for more than four days this time, okay?”
“What?” I asked, stunned. Had I been out for four days? She began to answer but I shook away her response. I’d heard.
“It’s okay. We can discuss it tomorrow,” she replied and walked away. She became a lot stronger of a person when discussing nursing. That’s where she was confident. That’s when something started to become clear.
“Was I being given antibiotics while I was passed out?” I asked her.
“Yeah, you were,” she replied. I nodded my thanks, and she left
. That may explain why the bite didn’t kill me. The antibiotics in my system fought off any foreign bacteria. So since the bite didn’t infect you with the Daisy virus, maybe it infected you with bacteria that killed you? Daisy being the colloquial term for the micro-organism that caused the dead to rise. I’m sure the rotten mouths of the undead were a breeding ground for horrific diseases. That would be what killed you. At least the bite of the undead was something to be feared less. Potentially, anyway. A bite was still a bite. It was definitely food for thought. I needed some paper to map out what I knew about the undead.
Before long, Tracey returned with bedding, some pills, and had still managed to carry a glass of water to me. I took them and thanked her. I swallowed the pills and the water. I then crashed onto the sofa, with bedding wrapped around me. As far as my drug-addled mind was concerned, my cocoon of bedding was the safest place in the world.
CHAPTER 17
“Uh,” I groaned as I crawled out of bed. No, not a bed, a sofa. I hated the comedown from painkillers. The next morning was always horrendous and blurred. I couldn’t live like that.
I gazed around the room, searching for a timepiece. Weirdly, there were no clocks. Why did I need to know the time anyway? I didn’t have anywhere to be, nor did it matter what time I woke up. Being a time-obsessed species was a problem when the time was no longer an issue. Time is always a problem. Time is always running out.
