Among the Dead: Part Two: Fear No Evil

by Ryan Colley

  “If anyone deserves to go to heaven, it’s you two,” I wept. “I hope you find each other there.”

  I rolled him into the water, only walking away after he had sunk low enough that I couldn’t see him anymore.

  “That was nice, kid,” the leader pulled me away from the water. He smiled awkwardly. “When we get back to base, we’ll fix you up and we can talk about it over a beer if you like.”

  “Why didn’t you let us just dump the darky in the water if that was what you were going to do?” the second man replied exasperated.

  “That’s enough of that, Bill,” the leader said. “We’re going back.”

  I was taken to a couple of beat-up vehicles, one of which was a flatbed truck. Several men gathered at them and climbed in, including me and my escort. I didn’t even care where we were going. Didn’t care who I was with. They seemed friendly, but where was my brutal paranoia that accompanied me to every encounter? I didn’t even question them. I just didn’t care.

  I was sad for Tracey and Gary’s passing, and I was sad knowing at least one of them had died hating me. And I wasn’t angry at my current hosts for killing him. It didn’t seem personal. Sure, Bill had probably taken some satisfaction in killing the darky, but at the end of the day, it was just business to them. They had saved someone from their attacker, and the politics of the situation wasn’t their concern. At least they’d allowed me to give him a semi-decent burial.

  I didn’t pay any attention to where we were going. What was the point? I didn’t even seem like a concern to the men. They weren’t even bothered by the new face. They didn’t seem concerned with guarding me. Friendly men leading me to safety without question. I had been through that before. Almost like we had come full circle and I was back with James.

  “We’re almost there,” the leader said over the engines’ roar.

  “At least you didn’t whisper,” I muttered, absentmindedly.

  “What was that?” the leader looked at me. It was the first time I’d a chance to look at him properly, although my rapidly swelling eyes were attempting to prevent that. My face hurt so goddamn much. I squinted to take a clear look at him. He was a rough-looking man, like he had seen his fair share of fights and hardship. His weathered appearance looked pre-undead. Time to Sherlock of the situation. Greying hair, weathered appearance, and calloused hands. I guessed manual worker of some kind.

  “Well …” the leader prompted after I didn’t answer.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Just thinking aloud.”

  “You got your secrets, I understand that. But when we get where we’re going, we need to have a serious talk. I need to know who I’m letting into my little kingdom,” he said. Little kingdom? God or messiah complex? Great. The leader laughed. “Don’t look so intense. It’s a joke amongst the guys. If you stay long enough, you’ll understand it.”

  “I don’t think you’ve told me your name,” I said. “It would be nice to put a name to a face.”

  “Everyone around here calls me Boss. You can do the same if you like,” he shrugged. “You?”

  “Sam,” I replied. It was amazing how times had changed. Pre-undead, I wouldn’t have ever told people I didn’t know my name due to fear of what they could do with that information. Whenever charities knocked on my door, I always gave the name Charles Diamondback. It sounded incredibly fake, but that was the point. Post-undead, I didn’t mind telling potential scumbags my name. They couldn’t do anything with that information anymore.

  “Nice to meet you, Sam,” Boss shook my hand, with a tight grip. “Well, welcome to my home.”

  I turned and looked over the driver’s cabin. We were approaching a wall of shipping containers.

  “This is it?” I asked, a bit thrown off by what I was seeing. There was a wall of different coloured shipping containers with men standing on top.

  “Home sweet home,” Boss said to me, then shouted, “Open up guys!”

  I watched two parts of a container appear to separate, only to realise it was actually two container doors closing. The container doors had been left open, and they were the doors for the wall of containers. Impressive! Talk about using the environment to your advantage.

  We passed through the gates and into a makeshift carpark, with more containers forming a secondary wall.

  “How far do these containers go round?” I climbed out of the flatbed and looked around.

  “All the way,” Boss said, walking next to me. “We’re enclosed on all sides. There’s another set of doors on the opposite side. I feel a lot safer having two ways out.”

  Men closed – or opened, depending on how you looked at it – the doors behind us.

  “Or another way in,” I muttered.

  “You’re a pessimistic sod, aren’t you,” he laughed. “I just didn’t want the possibility of us being trapped with the dead outside. There are vehicles on that side, too. Ain’t nothing half-assed around here.”

  We walked through the second doorway, and what I saw was amazing.

  Broadcast Four: Tony with the Truth

  Tony: So … zombies, eh. They’re among us, and the Government still won’t admit things have gone tits up. Well, I’m telling you to lock your windows and doors, ladies and gentlemen. This isn’t some sort of infection that can be contained. The Government has lost control. We aren’t trying to exterminate the undead anymore – they are exterminating us. This is Tony coming at you with the truth.

  A distant gunshot in the background.

  Tony: I keep hearing warfare out there. Not just undead on living, but man fighting man. I know, I know. We need to survive, and our own comes first, right? Wrooooong! We need to help each other. I ain’t no hippy, but we can’t be killing each other like this. At least take out the zombies first before getting back to killing each other.

  The streets ain’t safe. Even now, I’m locked away with enough food and water to live a long while, but this ain’t me being selfish. Oh, no. I need to bring you the news about what’s happening out there ‘cause the Government certainly ain’t doing that.

  So here’s a list of things that’ve happened out there. Well, there still ain’t any news out of Bristol – the broadcasts have stopped, and the military abandoned their posts. Guess the rumours were true, so if any of you fine folk were hoping for some West Country cider, better cancel your plans.

  A loud slurp of a drink as well as a louder gunshot.

  Tony: Folks are awfully fighty out there today. Anyway, next on the list. Ooh, a little birdy has told me that the Government has gone to Scotland with the last of the military. Good to know that the rich and powerful are staying that way. Obviously, this is just speculation, but it does tie in with the rumours of large military movement up north from a week ago, as well as some very peculiar broadcasts. If you have to move out there, Scotland sounds like the safest place right now. If they don’t shoot you on sight first.

  Tony laughed. Then there was a gunshot much louder than the previous two.

  Tony: Finally, this is a personal request from a lovely listener. The message reads, “Danny, we have tried to head to the coast. Love from Ruth.” Well, Danny, if you’re still out there, please let Ruth know you’re okay. You shouldn’t keep a lovely lady waiting. Please be safe out there, you guys, and … what the hell?

  A loud banging in the background, possibly knocking on a barricaded door, followed by the shuffling of Tony’s footsteps to investigate.

  Tony: You can’t just break your way in here! This is my property. I have a duty to the listeners.

  The sound of a new voice.

  Intruder: Well, you weren’t lying about all your supplies. You really could live in here for years.

  Sound of a gun cocking. Tony’s tone went from brave to a whimper.

  Tony: Please don’t hurt me. Just take what you want, but don’t hurt me.

  A loud crash of something being pushed over.

  Intruder: Trust me, I’ll be taking everything. But I’m not just here for your go
ods. For the last two weeks, all I’ve had to listen to is your bullshit. Firing shot after shot, listening to your station to see how close I was getting. I am so sick of your nonsense. I’m sick of you! I’m sure other listeners are, too.

  Sounds of a scuffle, and then a noise of something heavy hitting the ground. The footsteps got louder as the person walked closer to the microphone. A sigh before the speaker, imitating the news reader’s low and throaty tone, spoke into the microphone.

  Intruder: Now ladies and gentleman, time for a real show. Let me put a question out to the listeners. How many broken bones before he passes out?

  The following twenty-five minutes was filled with crunches, laughter, screams, and crying as the intruder fulfilled his promise of a real show.

  Intruder: The answer is seven. Seven bones before he passed out.

  Chuckling.

  Intruder: That’s all folks.

  A gunshot followed by a burst of static before the station died.

  CHAPTER 32

  The area I had walked into looked fantastic. It was essentially a small community. The area, which was protected by the container walls, encompassed a vast section of land. It was difficult to tell how big it truly was because of the maze of containers. But this didn’t seem to trouble Boss, who navigated it with the ease that comes with familiarity. There were men entering different containers or carrying boxes between them, with clear intent.

  “The containers come in pretty useful,” Boss pointed to men going into one. “The ones over there, for example, were filled with food when we opened it. We took inventory and keep one guy on it at all times.”

  I gave him a strange look. Why would he need someone on guard?

  He saw me looking at him and laughed, “It’s not that I don’t trust the men here, but … do you know much about psychology?”

  “A little,” I smiled. It would be interesting to see what kind of psychology he would try to fob off to me. I was so used to people having poor conceptions of what psychology was.

  “Without rules, people … go off the deep end. Without something to occupy them, well, you can imagine,” he began. I nodded. So far, so good. “So, in my infinite wisdom, I created certain roles and restrictions. This keeps the men in check and keeps them occupied.”

  “So why tell me all this?” I asked. Why would he possibly tell a newcomer about the ins and outs of his setup?

  “I see a lot of me in you. I feel like I can trust you,” he replied simply. He didn’t even know me! He added, “Don’t get me wrong, you could be absolutely nuts, and I’ll still determine if you can stay.”

  “Fair enough,” I nodded.

  The place was amazing. All the men were busy like Boss had said. I noticed that they consistently walked the wall, watching for the undead. Or the living. Beyond the containers for storage, we reached an area with a lot of porta-cabins. I mean, a lot. More than I had ever seen before. They were all the same snap-together grey plastic material used on building sites.

  “We got everything you could possibly need here,” Boss said, clearly pleased. “Water – bottled and fresh. We have working electricity thanks to some portable generators we found. Electricity means music, television, and video games, which we have plenty of. The men won’t get bored. Food, water, and entertainment. What more could they need?”

  “What about women?” I suggested, finding a hole in his paradise. He laughed and slapped me on the back. We passed a container with a red circle with an ‘X’ through it.

  “Don’t go in those or near them,” he pointed to the marked container.

  “Any reason?” I asked when I realised I wasn’t getting an explanation.

  “Short version, they’re full of meat bags,” he said as if that was the most normal thing in the world.

  “And the long version?” I asked with annoyance. What was it about the post-apocalypse that meant people had to be vague?

  “We put bodies in the containers, out the way. Haven’t had time to move them. The dead are now undead and trapped in there. It sucks, but that’s how it is currently,” Boss shrugged. I would certainly be keeping away from any container marked as such. How did all the people sleep at night knowing the undead were so close? Then again, it was the same material that made up their walls. Suppose it was safe when you looked at it like that. We arrived at a porta-cabin, no different from the rest, and entered.

  The room was set up like a doctor’s office, although slightly less organised. Boxes, with various medical labels, were stacked along one side of the wall. A man sat at a makeshift desk, reading a medical textbook.

  “This is our doctor-to-be, Dr. Mark,” Boss said introducing us. He looked about twelve years old. “Everyone calls him Doc.”

  “I dropped out of my Ph.D.,” Doc said, sheepishly. “Got drunk too much and realised medicine wasn’t for me. Now here I am, doing it.”

  “I need you to fix up my friend here,” Boss said to him. I, on the other hand, didn’t want a medical school dropout to touch me.

  “Sure thing,” Doc closed the textbook, then looked me over, examining my face. “Should be easy enough. I need to reduce the swelling and throw in a few stitches, and we’re good to go.”

  “You sure you’re qualified for this?” I stared uneasily at him.

  “God, no,” he laughed, causing me to wince at the idea. He then added, more seriously, “But I am the best you got for miles … probably. Now sit down and let me get to work.”

  As nervous as I was – and so was he – he did a fantastic job. The swelling was already going down, and blood wasn’t oozing out of my wounds once he was done. He gave me some painkillers and sent me on my way.

  “He’s a good kid,” Boss said as we were walking away. “We found him wandering around, bloody and scared. We brought him in, and turns out he’s helped tenfold of what we did for him. Now Sam, what can you bring to us?”

  “Bugger all,” I shrugged. “I was a graduate in a skill that’s not relevant anymore.”

  “Well, you’ve survived this long. How?” he asked, probing to find out more about me.

  “I fought my way here. Living and dead alike,” It was true, and that was all he needed to know.

  “Why did you end up here?” he asked. We seemed to just be walking without any real direction.

  “I’m looking for … someone. It led me this way,” I shrugged. Now I was being the elusive one. He didn’t need to know all about me just yet.

  “Fair enough. Do you have a problem killing?” he questioned bluntly.

  “The living, yes. Undead. Yes, but I know I have to do it to survive,” I answered, choosing my words carefully.

  “You’ll fit right in here, Sam,” Boss smiled. “How long will you be staying?”

  “I don’t know. Forty-eight hours at the most,” I shrugged again. “I really need to find her.”

  “That’s fair enough, Sam. If you stay a little longer, we can set you up for your journey ahead,” Boss offered.

  “That’s real nice, thanks. But I wouldn’t want to impose,” I wasn’t about to owe anyone anything.

  “Seriously, it’s okay. We can get you a car, food, water, and a firearm,” he insisted. “There’s more than enough if you help out in the time you’re here. You could consider it payment if you like.”

  “Thanks, Boss,” I smiled. He seemed alright. “What would helping out consist of?”

  “Well, emptying local buildings for supplies is our general way of doing things. You could be on guard detail,” Boss explained. It was then I noticed we passed the doctor’s porta-cabin again.

  “You’re clever,” I said, with a sly smile.

  “Why’s that?” he grinned.

  “We’ve passed that porta-cabin a couple of times already. We’ve literally been walking in circles while you pumped me for information,” I was still smiling. It was so simple but such an effective way to get information.

  “Psychology,” he said, with a sly wink, then added with a laugh, “But are you
up for guard detail?”

  “I can do that. That’s a fair trade,” I nodded. “Two questions. Where can I stay? When can I help?”

  “There are a few spare porta-cabins for newcomers to stay in. We can get some flat-pack furniture set up for you in a few minutes,” he answered. He turned to a passerby and spoke to them. They nodded and left. “As for when, we’re making a trip to some local houses in a bit if you like?”

  “I’m up for that,” I smiled. We carried on walking for a little longer.

  “That’s great, but you need some time to yourself. You’ll need time to acclimatise to the events of your day so far,” he put his hand on my shoulder. I almost asked why, before I remembered the events of the morning. Damn. I had forgotten about that. Was I really that cold?

  “Thanks, Boss,” I said, with a sad smile.

  “And here we are,” Boss said as we stopped at a porta-cabin. “There’s a mattress, some water, and a chair in there. There will be more stuff later. I just need you to stay in there for now. I got some stuff to sort out. Someone will knock for you when it’s time to leave.”

  “Cheers,” I walked into the porta-cabin. As he walked away, I called, “In a bit.”

  He put his hand up without turning back to me.

  I entered and looked at my temporary home. It was as bare as he had described. Barely anything in there. Even the mattress was so thin it looked like it was a waste of time. I crashed down onto it. No tears came that time. I was sad, heartbroken in fact, but no tears. I’d had enough heartbreak and just couldn’t find the appropriate response anymore.

  I laid there, muscles heavy, will worn, and body broken. I don’t know what hurt more, their death or that Gary had died hating me. It kept playing through my mind. I would never be able to tell him what I thought. That chance was gone. Goddamn. Gary was gone. Tracey was gone.