by Ryan Colley
Waiting for the day to hurry up and end was painful. I paced the boathouse. Every time I saw Tracey, she tried to ask me about Gary.
Every time I only replied, “Later.”
But that didn’t stop her trying to approach the subject every so often. There was nothing to distract me when I desperately needed it. Seemed to be nothing of interest on the radio. No conversations or anything else, apart from the repeating broadcasts. I took to scouting the area through the window via binoculars. Nothing to see outside. I read the names printed on boats, trying to find one that stood out. Most owners had the same kind of humour – puns or a play-on-words. Story of a Coy. Carp Diem. The Pacifisht. Goddamn nautical jokes.
My gaze eventually fell on my abandoned motorbike. The rain and wind clearly had its way with it. It laid on its side, pieces of the body broken off. The undead had gathered around it. Whether it was because of the noise it once made or remnants of some distant memory, I didn’t know. The motorbike was lost, and I had to accept that.
CHAPTER 22
Nightfall came, and we were seated for our evening meal. Gary had asked for a larger than normal portion due to our conversation earlier. He looked at me and smiled. Yes, I was the reason he was doing that, but why did he have to make it so weird?
“Eat up, there’s plenty to go around,” Tracey brought out several plates of food. Leek soup for starters. She looked so happy now that Gary was eating again.
We all tucked in after they said grace, which I sat awkwardly through. Before long, we were full and sleepy. Gary kept making intense eye contact with me. Guess it was time for our chat, and I had somehow been made designated speaker.
“So Tracey, it’s time we spoke about what you asked earlier,” I said. Her eyes went wide and she looked between Gary and me.
I smiled. “It’s okay, Gary knows, and we all need to discuss something important. It’s about Gary’s strange behaviour and our current situation.”
I brought Tracey up to speed about the food situation and that we probably had a couple of weeks’ worth of food. She was angry at Gary for keeping it a secret and for skipping meals. They made up and were happy, though. Whatever they faced, they would do it together. Gary proceeded to list everything we had, including food, ammunition, and drinks. I was surprised by that they had ammunition, and Gary assured me they had the gun to go with it. A double barrel shotgun. A happy surprise.
I asked them about other supplies, including first aid items, other weapons, and useful materials. We compiled a written list and agreed to cross off anything that gets used. I suggested that we should leave sooner rather than later. We needed some food to take with us on our journey. Unfortunately, Gary and Tracey thought it was best to wait until all the freezer food had been used, taking us extremely close to the two-week deadline. I wasn’t happy about that, but it was their house and their decision. I was just there for the ride.
Speaking of ride, we had discussed our plan of action. Gary actually owned a car. Didn’t seem like the sort to me. He had it parked offsite in a rented garage. He said it was about a ten-minute walk, but we decided against it considering the amount of undead roaming outside. A number that seemed to increase each day. The next idea was Gary’s boat, which was in the boatyard. This idea was also cut short, because we had neither the time or equipment to lower it into the water.
Finally, I suggested the boat out in the water. I had checked earlier in the day and saw that it was still there. It must’ve been anchored or something. Despite the difficulty of getting to it, the general consensus was that this was the right move to make. Issues with fuel? Gary had extra in the boathouse. Getting to it? Gary believed he could swim to it. We formulated a plan and convinced ourselves it was a great idea. Then again, when you’re cornered by flesh-eating monsters and have limited supplies, you can convince yourself that anything is a great idea.
That night, we found some large holdalls and backpacks. Perfect for carrying our supplies. We could get there with everything, no problem. For the first time, things were going well. I just wanted to speed up the timeline for leaving.
Once we were happy with our plan, we all said our goodnights and went our separate ways. I would need to think of a way to move things along. I couldn’t wait in the safety of a glorified pub while the love of my life was out there somewhere, probably fighting for survival.
****
Gary
Lying in bed, Gary recapped the day’s events. He liked the plan they’d formed, and even though they all hadn’t agreed on the timeframe, they were a team now and they could conquer any adversity the outside world threw at them.
A loud creek snapped Gary from his thoughts. He saw Sam slowly walk by the ajar door. Gary sighed. Sam was sleepwalking again. He waited a few more moments, knowing what was coming next. Sam would eventually saunter back past the door after waking up to find himself out of bed. And that’s exactly what he did. If he wasn’t arguing with a stuffed toy, he was sleepwalking. Gary smiled and tried to go to sleep once he heard Sam’s door close for good.
****
Sam
I sat on the edge of my bed, panting, adrenaline pumping through my body. I couldn’t believe Gary hadn’t come to investigate after the noise I’d made. It didn’t matter whether he’d heard me or not, though. I doubt he would put two and two together, and even if he did, there wouldn’t be anything he could do at that point. I settled into bed, heart still racing, and attempted to sleep.
CHAPTER 23
“For God’s sake!” Gary screamed, waking me. A few moments of silence before he said, “No, Tracey. I’m a damn idiot!”
I winced. Gary was really angry, but could I blame him? I got out of bed, dressed, and went to see the commotion.
“Just try to calm down,” Tracey said calmly. “It was an accident.”
“But it’s ruined everything!” Gary screamed before breaking into a sob.
As I came round the corner, into the stock room, I saw Gary hunched over on the floor, with Tracey rubbing his back.
“What’s up?” I asked. “More rats?”
“No!” Gary shouted. “Just me being useless!”
Tracey stepped between us and whispered. “All the frozen food became defrosted overnight.”
“It didn’t become defrosted. It was my stupidity!” Gary yelled.
“Well … what happened?” I asked.
“I must’ve knocked the plug out yesterday when I pulled the freezer out!” Gary sobbed again. He was caught between rage and tears. He then showed me the plug which had accidentally become disconnected.
“You didn’t do it on purpose,” I said, trying to soothe him.
“But now I’ve put us all in danger!” Gary said, wiping tears away.
“It’s okay,” I put my hand on his shoulder. “We’re in no different a position than we were yesterday. The only difference is that we need to do things earlier than we had originally planned.”
“Listen to him, Gary. He’s right. Accidents happen, it’s okay,” Tracey moved in to hug her husband. Gary, still crying, stared at me for the briefest of moments. I thought he was going to express doubts over the freezer incident, but he just closed his eyes and cried freely. I, on the other hand, turned and left. I had preparations to make.
That evening, we collected our supplies, in preparation to leave in a few days. We cooked up what we couldn’t take with us and then prepared the stuff we would take. Gary was in a glum mood, and that was putting it lightly. Tracey echoed her husband. I was the only one excited to be leaving, and I had to curb my enthusiasm so it didn’t rub the others the wrong way.
CHAPTER 24
When I checked on the supplies Gary and Tracey were packing, I was saddened. Amongst the food, water, and other necessities, there were discarded bits and pieces. Odd ornaments which had been put in a bag and then removed to make room for other items. An old knife and fork set had been cast to one side as well. The only personal item they managed to squeeze into the many bags
of supplies was their wedding photo – without the ornate frame it once sat in. These people were literally leaving behind the only life they ever knew and nearly everything they owned that reminded them of it. It was sad but needed to be done.
I gave myself the job of waterproofing everything. I found reels of plastic wrap in the stock room, to wrap all the bags in. If we were travelling by boat and on water, then we needed to take the precaution to secure it all.
I considered putting Thundy, my phone, and Harrington’s bullet in one of the bags but decided against it. Three of my most valuable possessions, after my machete and gun. I wouldn’t leave their fate up to someone else. Instead, I covered them in plastic wrap and put them in one of my pockets. I was ready to leave, and so was most of the supplies. I just had to wait for Gary and Tracey to say their goodbyes.
I wandered aimlessly for my remaining time there. The boathouse didn’t hold a special place in my heart the same way it did for my hosts. They would break down crying when a different object sparked another memory and, with it, an emotion.
I felt awkward walking in on Tracey while she cried, looking through a photo album. I felt even more awkward when I found Gary in the previously locked room where Mama was, and instantly assumed the worst. I pulled out my machete, ready to strike them both down. How would I reason with him that we couldn’t bring her? What if he had been killed? But I found none of that. What I found was a broken man, crying over the reanimated corpse of his mother. He wasn’t trying to free her or bring her with him. He was saying his goodbyes. He told her he missed her and that maybe they would be back one day. I doubted we would ever come back.
When he was done, he left the room, stench and all, and continued preparing to leave. He was a strong man. Before we left, Gary gave my wound one last look over. He was happy with the progress it had made and helped me to cover it to avoid any transmission of bacteria. Then we all laid out our appropriate clothes and prepared in our own ways for the coming time.
Broadcast Two: Church of the Midnight Sun
“Hello, this is the father and leader of the Church of the Midnight Sun. We were well aware of this day and waited behind barred walls for the eventual end of times. We knew the dead would rise. The evidence has been spread throughout history. Just read any of the historical tomes of the great Abrahamic religions. It’s all there.
“We paid heed to these warnings, and through our ark, we’ve ensured the salvation of the untainted. All are welcome and will be provided with a safe home. Of course, the sanctuary will only be provided on the condition that you’re not tainted by the evils of the old world or the new. After all … this flood, much like that of Noah’s, was sent by powers greater than our own. But this flood wasn’t sent by our divine creator who only deals with purifying the world with cleansing waters. This flood of the dead wasn’t sent as punishment by an unjust god. No. This is the work of The Dark One, who commands the dead once the souls have returned to the creator.
“Some of you may call him Satan, others Iblīs. It does not matter the name you give him, for The Dark One still commands this unholy flood. This undead horror was cast upon us to turn all who are pure into unclean ones. A mockery of the creator’s flood, which washed away the impure.
“Remember these words, pure and impure ones, for there is an appropriate and just end for you, regardless of your path.”
CHAPTER 25
“Are you ready?” I whispered to Gary and Tracey, one hand on the door handle and the other clutched the newly sharpened machete. They nodded. Gary had all the bagged supplies slung over his shoulders. What he couldn’t carry, he held in his hands. As our packhorse, he was defenceless. It was up to me and Tracey to protect him once we got outside. That was the plan, anyway. Tracey had the shotgun clutched against her chest as if it were a safety blanket. Her various pockets bulged from the shotgun shells that filled them.
I looked back at Gary straining under the sheer weight of the bags. If encumbered had a facial expression, Gary was making it. I had a momentary pang of guilt that I couldn’t help him but, with my injured leg, I was better off defending him than being the mule, and his wife was too small to carry anything effectively. We were his armed escorts. I wouldn’t have minded so much except Gary was the only one who knew how to sail, so we had to keep him alive … not that I wouldn’t have protected him anyway, but now his survival meant mine.
I mouthed a countdown, “Three … two … one …”
I pulled the door open.
Tracey charged out first onto the walkway, with the shotgun levelled. Gary stumbled out next. I limped out at the rear, pulled the revolver out of my pocket, and thumbed back the hammer. Necessary? Probably not. Fun? Definitely.
Gary’s wife and I guided him to the bottom of the steps, unimpeded. A couple of undead had started to wander into view, the noise of our heavy footsteps piquing their curiosity. Once they saw us, they started running, moaning excitedly.
“Get behind us,” I told Gary, forcing his back to the boathouse. Tracey aimed the shotgun towards the undead.
I whispered, “No shots. Not yet. You two keep moving, but slowly. Don’t get too far.”
A look of relief flooded her face. She wasn’t confident with the shotgun or with killing the undead. Lack of confidence would get her killed.
I hobbled towards the undead, which were in full sprint, and stood a comfortable distance from Gary and his wife. I needed to be able to swing without fear of them getting in the way. In my head, my attack would be swift and fluid, like the slow-motion fight scenes of modern thrillers, but the sagging weight of my leg reminded me that wouldn’t be the case.
I clenched the machete in anticipation of the first zombie, who was coming straight for me and didn’t slow down as it neared. Its plan for stopping was to crash into me. I wouldn’t allow that to happen. At the last second, I sidestepped, arching the machete through its skull. The top half of its head fell away, hitting the floor like a half-eaten watermelon – a rotten watermelon. Black brain matter splashed, but the zombie carried on running past me. The signal from its non-existent brain not reaching the rest of its body to tell it to stop. It continued a few more paces and then toppled to the floor as its limbs lost what little coordination they had.
The undead seemed so simplistic it was almost amusing to watch. I could feel myself smiling dumbly, until the gravity of the situation crashed back down around me. I was fighting a war for my own survival. I snapped back to reality as the sound of pounding footsteps reached me. I spun back towards them, forgetting the corpse I’d just dispatched. The two zombies were bearing down on me, and I wouldn’t be able to deal with them separately. I attempted a hobbled run towards them, my bad leg lagging behind. The first zombie was in grabbing distance when I swooped low and swung my machete through its leg. Its shin split and broke apart as splinters of bone pulled away. I tried to ignore the gory tendons attempting to hold the severed leg in place.
I dodged out of the way of the downed zombie’s grasp and stumbled towards the second zombie. I only just managed to pull the machete up in time to stop it from biting me. My machete was between me and the creature, pressing against the zombies face. The blade cut a line from chin to forehead. The zombie didn’t care. If anything, it seemed more excited for having prey so close, and tried to push against the blade to get to me. Chin and lips split as the machete sliced through the flesh. Broken and carrion-stained teeth exposed themselves as the zombie snarled, tearing its face along the slash. The meat of its lower face sloughed away from the frame of its skull, exposing the tendons as they expanded and contracted with each jaw movement. I didn’t have enough room to pull the machete back without giving the zombie room to get at me, nor did I have enough room for a strong enough swing to cut through bone. Instinct took over, and I did the only thing I thought to do. Punch the blunt side of the machete.
I heard bone crack and break, partly from the machete embedding in the skull bone and partly from my fingers breaking. Adrenaline
kept the pain from flooding my system as I swept out the zombie’s feet when it stumbled back. It collapsed to the floor, machete still lining its face. I lifted my foot and smashed it down onto the zombie’s face. The machete forced its way through the rest of the skull, putting an end to the monster for good and cleaving its head in two. I stood tall, panting. More zombies were running towards our location. Tracey just stood there, shotgun in hand.
“Run!” I bellowed, all intention of keeping quiet gone. I grabbed the machete, spun on my heel and sprinted towards the water’s edge. I made sure Gary and Tracey stayed in front of me. I was the first and, as far as I was concerned, the last line of defence.
The one thing I remember most from that moment at the boatyard was the noise. A cacophony of sounds. My boots as they hit the uneven ground, sending gravel skittering like small explosions. The pounding of blood in my ears as my heart rate accelerated. The explosive discharge of the shotgun, where Tracey had forgotten to remove her finger from the trigger. The slap of rotten flesh on the cold floor as the undead neared. The icy grasp of death was getting closer and closer, metaphorically and literally.
Gary, who was at the front of our little marching band, dropped the bags and dived into the unclean water in one swift motion, leaving the mark of white foam where he vanished. Tracey and I stopped on the water’s edge and spun around to confront the oncoming dead. She was the first to put down one of the advancing zombies, the blast from the business end of the shotgun destroying the creature. Its head crumpled and disappeared, as well as the flesh covering its chest and upper arms. She slid two more shells into her shotgun, and that’s where I came in. I moved forward, holding my machete like a warrior of old would hold their sword. I swung it when another zombie came within reach. I didn’t even take note of the devastation I had caused as I pulled my machete back again. What was the point of remembering it when it was all so similar? The steady stream of undead heading towards us would be the same, whether it was my flesh or theirs.
