by Ryan Colley
Damn. Damn! DAMN!
CHAPTER 33
Catatonia. Noun. A syndrome characterised by muscular rigidity and mental stupor, sometimes alternating with great excitement and confusion. I was almost there – catatonic that is. I laid on the bed, unmoving and unthinking. Just feeling … and hurting. I could feel myself sinking lower and lower, with no net to save me. That was until a voice wrenched me from a downward spiral.
“New guy, Boss told me to come and get you. We’re leaving in ten, so stop jerking it and get out here!” a gruff sounding man called while banging on the door like he was trying to tear it down.
“Okay, okay,” I shouted in response, my earlier mental trauma almost forgotten.
I left the room and met with the older man outside. He had a cigarette hanging out the side of his mouth – he looked as though he had smoked from the day he left his mother’s womb – and stained yellow fingertips.
“We need you to suit up before we leave,” he looked me up and down in my still-wet boiler suit. It was beginning to get crusty from the salty water.
“We can swap out that for something dry,” he suggested.
“I’d rather not,” I pushed by him, all too aware of my belongings hidden within the pockets.
“Okay,” he said, clearly taken aback by my refusal. “Well, you need to weapon-up before we go, anyway. Any preferences?”
It was then that I remembered the weapons I had arrived with. Once again, I had lost control of my position. I turned on the man who had come to get me.
“The stuff I came here with!” I snarled, barring my teeth like an animal.
“Whoa, man,” he backed up. “I’ve only been told to get you. When did you get here? Today?”
“Yeah. Why?” I said, calming slightly.
“Then Boss probably still has it. We can see him before we leave if you like,” he explained.
“Yeah. Sure,” I said through gritted teeth. We began walking in what appeared to me as a random direction. I really had to learn my way around the place.
The walk was in silence. I tried to apologise to the man, but he wasn’t interested. He just nodded and kept walking. We eventually came across Boss in a porta-cabin. He was marking areas on maps.
“Everything okay?” he said, looking at me.
“He wants the crap he came here him,” the older man said.
“Weapon shed,” Boss responded, returning to marking the map. “Ask Angel. He should still be there.”
We left again and began our journey to Angel, who was stood outside a container.
“Weapons,” the man escorting me said to Angel. “We want the stuff put in there today.”
“Shotgun and machete?” the man smiled, opening the container doors.
“Yeah,” I said. He handed me both without question. I managed a quick glance inside the container. It was a very mixed collection. A few military grade guns, some odd hunting rifles, plenty of ammunition cases, and a lot of heavy and blunt objects which could be used as weapons. Nice.
“Nice to meet you new guy, names Stephen. Everyone calls me Angel, as in Guardian, because I look after the weapons,” Stephen said, introducing himself. There would be no way I was calling him Angel.
“Sam,” I nodded, shaking his hand, before leaving.
We were off again. My escort speedwalked ahead of me, not allowing me to keep up.
“What’s your problem?” I attempted to catch up with him. I knew I had offended him with my outburst, but surely not to this degree. I didn’t get an answer so I pushed, “Well?”
“We’re rapidly losing daylight,” he turned to me, scowling. “Because of your crap, we’re behind schedule. Less daylight means we’re at a disadvantage with the dead. We’ll probably even need flashlights now. So hurry the hell up.”
“Okay,” I shrugged with annoyance, shocked at his outburst. He was right, but if he knew what I’d been through, then he would know I had the right to be paranoid.
We exited through the other gateway from which I arrived. Outside, there was a truck and a large transit van. Standing around them were seven people, including us. They were all armed.
“Took your time, Luke,” one of them laughed. “You up for this, newbie?”
“Nothing I haven’t done before,” I shrugged. “Where we going?”
“Housing estate about a thirty-minute drive away,” said the one who’d mocked Luke. “We saw it on a previous run and thought it’ll probably have decent stuff for our taking. If the prior residents are dead.”
“And if they’re not?” I climbed into the back of the transit van. It was only me and him. An imposing man, tall and muscular. He looked like an action hero – square jaw, bulging arms, handsome. Someone dropped two duffle bags into the back of the van – the weapons.
“We tell them of our place of safety, and if they want to join, they’re welcome to. If they don’t, then we let them know they have some neighbours down the road should they need any help,” he closed the door behind him.
“Ran into many people on your runs?” I asked. Something seemed odd about their altruism. Almost too good to be true.
“Not really. Once since I joined. I was picked up on one of their runs, ya know. They saved me. From what I heard, you were the same,” he smiled. As the engine started up and we began moving, I thought about how fast news travelled.
“That’s good,” I breathed a sigh of relief. “So what sort of stuff are we looking for?”
“Medicine and medical equipment take top priority. We have so much of everything else that the rest can wait. For now anyway,” he explained. “Obviously, if something sticks out, flag it to the others and we can either decide there and then or let Boss know for later.”
“Why do you call him Boss?” I asked, redirecting the conversation.
“Because everyone else does,” he shrugged.
“Any idea why they call him Boss?” I pushed.
“I think it’s because he’s their literal boss. From what I gather, most of the guys were workers at the container site. After things hit the fan, the ones who didn’t have family stayed here and made it their home. They were quite lucky with how things went for them. I’m Keith, by the way,” Keith held out his hand.
“Sam, as I’m sure you know,” I smiled, shaking his hand. He had a strong grip, with very calloused hands. I gestured to the world beyond the van. “So what did you do before all this?”
“Just things,” he smiled and winked. “I’d have to kill you if I told you.”
“Very funny,” I laughed. The cliché was surprisingly funny when heard in a real conversation. “I was a student. Planned to become a head doctor eventually.”
“There’s good money in that,” he nodded.
“Was. Not doing me much good now, is it,” I shrugged. “Shoulda done something more useful. Power of retrospect, I guess.”
The van slowed, and the rumble stopped. We were there.
CHAPTER 34
We climbed out of the van, taking the duffle bags with us. Everyone sorted through the bags until they found the guns they had chosen to bring with them. There were many standard issued guns from the British army. SA80 assault rifles and Browning Hi-Power handguns. Even a single Benelli M4 shotgun! Where the hell did they get all that? I seemed to be the only one who’d brought something that didn’t fire bullets. I picked up my machete and my double-barrel shotgun. Next to the Benelli, my shotgun felt impotent.
“The plan is the same as normal. We take two houses at a time. Two go into each, clearing upstairs and down. Remember, watch your lines of sight. We don’t want any accidents like before,” the man said, looking at one of the men, and there were a few smiles. “I want everyone else to secure the surrounding area. Regroup out front once the inside is clear. Then we can clear it of any supplies. Don’t be afraid to shout out should anyone need help. Everyone got it?”
There was a chorus of, “Yes.”
“Right, I want Sam and Luke up in the first house, and Keith and I will take t
he house next to it,” he continued. “Let’s do this.”
We broke and strode to the houses. Typical that I was stuck with the only one who didn’t like me. Oh well. It had to be done.
The housing estate was similar to the one I grew up in. There was a row of houses either side of the road, with grassy patches outside of both. There were only about eight houses, four on each side. Detached housing, fancy looking. Now that I think about it, not much like my own at all. What a stupid mistake to make. I paused mid-stride to realign what my memory of home looked like. I hadn’t even been gone all that long, but so much had happened. Maybe it was normal for memories to become skewed.
I carried on towards the house with Luke, who was wordless the entire time. We approached the door, either side of it, like we were a SWAT team. Luke pounded on the door. There was no answer or sound of stirring within.
“Anyone in there?” Luke shouted. Still no answer. I let Luke lead the way since he was experienced with the supply run. He tried the handle, and the door opened and swung inward. The stench of death was in the air. Whether it was from the undead or just dead was yet to be determined.
“I’ll take upstairs,” Luke whispered, then took the stairs two at a time, the Benelli clutched in his hands.
“Guess I have downstairs,” I muttered, holding my shotgun by its barrel and twirling my machete.
There were only three rooms downstairs. Two had the door closed. I tapped on one door, waiting for a response. Nothing. I opened the door slowly. The room was devoid of life … or unlife. It was a dining room, and it was in disarray. Not like a struggle had occurred, but like it had been abandoned in the middle of being used. There were dinner plates still on a small table. Photos on the mantle place, of a mother with two daughters. All brunettes, petite pixie faces, and brown eyes. No sign of a male in their life. Good on them.
The next room, the kitchen, was in a similar situation. There was cookware everywhere. Pots and pans littered the side. A sign on the wall which read, Families That Eat Together, Stay Together. There were photos everywhere in there, too, albeit less serious and more fun. They all had face paint in one and were making silly faces in another. They were all so … human looking. It was the most emotion I’d felt in a while. The ice that had been freezing my heart for such a long time, melted ever so slightly. My mind kept flashing to my own family. I needed to know if they were okay. But it would have to wait.
The third and final room was a spare room with odd boxes and whatnot. No living or dead threats. I was about to leave, when I heard a thump upstairs. I didn’t think anything of it until another few minutes passed without any sign of Luke.
“I know I shouldn’t …” I said absentmindedly while staring at the stairs. I knew I should’ve gone outside and called for help, but curiosity was getting the best of me. Following Luke’s footsteps, I took the stairs two at a time. At the top was an empty bathroom. Next room was a child’s bedroom. Still nothing. One more room. It had to be the mother’s room. From the angle I was walking, I couldn’t see within, but I could smell the overpowering stench of death.
“Luke?” I called in a hushed voice. No answer. I called again, “Luke?”
I peeked around the doorframe and saw something terrible.
I … it was … Luke laid on the floor, motionless. Face up, limbs twitching as the three zombies tore into him. They pulled pieces of … Luke from deep within Luke, each ramming strips of flesh into their mouths. That wasn’t the worst part. I had seen so much of that by that point. The worst part was the zombies.
There was the mother, with sullen and grey skin. Little tears on her neck and bare breasts – something that only little mouths could do. The other two zombies, they were children. Not even children, toddlers. Tiny girls. Both dressed as a princess from one of latest Disney films. Joining their mother in a feast, like a good family. Like a happy family. Families that eat together … I reached down slowly and picked up the Benelli, which had been cast to one side … stay together.
As I backed away, unnoticed, I pulled the door closed behind me. I didn’t need to see that. No one needed to see that. I stumbled down the stairs. My head hurt. I practically fell through the front door. Others stopped to look at me.
“Are you okay?” Keith asked as I fell to my knees, with vomit rising in my throat.
“Luke … don’t go …” I choked out. Two of the men rushed into the house and upstairs. I heard four gunshots. Mother, both daughters, and Luke. I just sat on the cool grass, heaving.
Keith rubbed my back. “It’s okay, man. It can get hard even for the toughest of us. Wanna take guard duty? Someone else can clear the next house.”
“No, no,” I took deep breaths. “I got this.”
I pushed up to my feet, using both shotguns as support. I looked down at the double barrel and dropped it. I took a deep breath. The Benelli was much more efficient and held less painful memories. Even though I felt green and like a horror film dropout, I pushed onward. I went into the next house, clearing each room and ignoring the signs of humanity in each. This made things so much easier.
The second house didn’t have any undead, but the third more than made up for it. Four undead in the first room. The humans had clearly killed themselves together, with their wrists slashed open and dried blood everywhere. This family had taken the easy way out. They died together. They came back together. I didn’t even pause before I fired the first blast from the shotgun. It was a panicked gutshot which tore the male zombie in half. Rotten innards spilt to the floor with a wet and heavy thud. They weren’t the healthy pink and red hue you would expect, but a decomposed black and grey. And as always, the smell. Horrific. But in a weird way, I enjoyed it. It helped me focus. It was familiar. It kept me in the moment.
Severing the zombie in half didn’t stop his upper half from coming for me. I slammed my machete into its skull, stopping it where it lay. Two more blasts from my shotgun. The first disintegrated another head and left a bloody smudge on the zombies behind it. The second removed the left half of another zombie from the rest of it, the force of the blast throwing her to the ground. I raced forward, arcing my blade into the final zombie, and ending the attack with my blade in the collapsed one.
My wrath ended them so swiftly that none of the zombies made it out of the room. I was covered in rotten gore.
“I live for this!” I panted, exhilaration and adrenaline making me feel alive. Was this the feeling that people call bloodlust?
I heard snarling behind me and then turned to see a zombie race in from the hallway. I smiled while slamming the machete into its head. I hit it so hard I crushed the skull, swiped right through the bone, and into the wooden doorframe. I wrenched it free and stepped over the dead zombie.
Kitchen? Empty. Downstairs bathroom? Zombie chained to the toilet.
“Is this being a bad sport?” I asked the trapped zombie as I slammed the butt of my shotgun into its skull. The first hit, I heard a loud crack of bone collapsing. The zombie didn’t die, but there was a huge dent in its forehead. The second hit, the skull collapsed inward, and the zombie went limp. Surprisingly effective.
“Downstairs clear!” I shouted to Keith upstairs.
“Took your time,” he said from the front door, waiting outside.
“Har-har. Any trouble?” I made my way to him.
“Not at all. You look like you had some, though,” he nodded to my blood-spattered boiler suit.
“Yeah, just a bit,” I shrugged. “What now?”
“We clear the house of stuff. Head back. It’s getting darker, and we really shouldn’t be out at night,” he stared at the approaching dark skies.
“Is there, uh, any rules on what we can personally keep?” I asked, with a sheepish grin.
“Well, you can’t take weapons back. No guns or blades within the walls. Unless you’re going out on a run, of course,” he rubbed his face. “Obviously, the stuff we’re out here for goes to the site. Any extras you can carry, you can keep. Why? Yo
u got something in mind?”
“Wait here,” I re-entered the second house. Where the hell is it?
While looking for the object of desire, I saw myself in the mirror. More gore than man. Only a stray patch of skin and clothing were untainted. I was like a crimson blood god of war. I held back a sob as my thoughts returned to the two girls and their mother.
I returned to the other guys, with a crate of beers I’d seen.
“Should we give Luke a send-off?” I held the crate up. The guys smiled and each took one. I didn’t like Luke, not in the slightest, but they did. It would be a good way to win people over. My beer would be for Tracey and Gary.
The others drank, talking about Luke and what he had been like. I drank and stared at the double barrel shotgun I no longer wanted.
“Guess this truly is goodbye,” I sighed. I had to move on. Was I doing it too quickly? Probably. Was it a necessity? I thought it was.
I was back in the moment, no longer thinking about the past or future. I looked at the setting sun, the world in an orange hue. It was warm, and I was out drinking beer with a group of lads. I could get used to this existence.
“Right, guys, it’s time to get a move on,” one of the men said once he’d finished his beer. “Darkness is approaching and we need to get back before we attract more meat-bags.”
Everyone else downed theirs, and I placed my half-finished one next to the discarded shotgun. It would rust there, and I was happy with that.
“Problem with that shotgun?” Keith nodded to it.
“Yeah, doesn’t work,” I said.
“Well, maybe someone can repair it,” he headed over to pick it up. I grabbed his arm, and he turned to me.
“Can we just leave it? Please,” I pleaded. He stared at me and then nodded.
“Sure,” my eyes must have radiated hurt, he didn’t even question me.
Together, we entered the houses we had cleared and collected any medical supplies we could find. Half-finished medicine, over-the-counter medication, prescription medication, latex gloves, even a few surgical masks. Perhaps someone thought the infection was airborne. Or they had an odd kink?
