Studying the zombie, Apocalypse Girl noted how angry and desperate it was to taste human flesh. Its actions reminded her of Rod first thing of a morning before drinking his coffee and she thought how maybe all the undead really needed was a strong brew and everything would be OK.
She smirked to herself amused with the theory that a quick caffeine pick me up could bring the zombie apocalypse to an end. Then Rod stole her thoughts and urgency returned. No time for wistful ponderings. She needed that vehicle.
She opened the passenger door and sat inside, positioning herself directly behind the zombie. As it turned to face her, twisting its body so that its head poked through the gap between the driver and front passenger seats, she stabbed at it with the Bat'leth's sharp edged spike, piercing the forehead and penetrating its brain. The dead zombie slumped, dark congealed blood oozed from the stab wound to its head. Removing herself from the Mini, Apocalypse Girl pulled the zombie free from the driver’s seat and took her place behind the wheel, slamming the door shut.
Turning the ignition key, Eye of the Tiger by Survivor boomed through the speakers. The owner of the car had been listening to the Rocky Soundtrack. How apt Apocalypse Girl thought, as it was also Rod's favourite music to cycle to.
Possessing the Eye of the Tiger, she turned the volume up fully and revved the engine. Attracted by the noise, every zombie in the area descended upon the vehicle. At a slow steady pace she drove away. Like a pied piper for the dead they followed her as she lured them away from the home of Heather and her mother. She did this along every street in Dukesfield whilst taking care to look for signs of her boyfriend but there was none.
In no time she had searched the whole estate and behind her had a following of over two hundred undead, all shuffling along to the inspirational sounds of the Rocky Soundtrack. She led them out of Dukesfield, along Egerton Road and onto Station Road with The Railway Pub in front of her.
Apocalypse Girl lowered the window and lent her head out, looking to the zombies behind her. In her best Mickey voice she yelled…
"What's a matter with ya? If ya wanna keep up with me you gotta crap thunder and eat lightning!"
Putting her foot down, she sped away towards Picow Farm Road and Balfour Street, leaving the undead behind her.
Time to make up lost ground.
Slowing down she surveyed the carnage ahead. Dead zombies and the ever present fallen birds covered Balfour Street. From the Co-Operative Supermarket to BJ & J Owens Newsagents, the road was barely visible below a carpet of dead walkers. Minis were not known for their suspension and as she slowly drove over the dead, she jostled about in her seat, her head bouncing from side to side. She felt the underneath of the car scrape against something large which caught against one of the rear wheels, bringing the Mini to a halt.
She lowered the car window and lifted her upper body out, looking to the undead covered road below her. Her heart almost stopped when she saw the black frame and red trim handle bars of her boyfriend’s Boardman road bike pushed against the rear wheel of the vehicle. She quickly left the car and began inspecting every corpse littering the road but Rod was not there. A naked old woman and a one armed transvestite she could find but her boyfriend was not amongst the dead. She breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever happened here, he had got away but in which direction? He could be anywhere.
“Hel…, help meee.”
She poised herself to attack, Hulk fist raised and Bat’leth ready to swing. Where did the voice come from? Balfour Street was awash with dead. Not a living person in sight. Then to her right, before the road opened up to another Street, she saw one of the many corpses on the ground begin to move, slowly shifting from side to side.
“Help… meee.”
She approached with caution, treading carefully as she tip toed across the dead. Nearing the moving corpse, she noticed the body was not stirring unaided. There was someone trapped underneath.
A bloodied arm reached up from under the dead zombie.
“Don’t leave me. My wife she, she will be waiting for me, please…”
She moved the zombie with her boot to reveal a gore covered petrified male face. She reached down to grab the man’s hand and pull him free but at the last moment noticed scratch marks running from his wrist to his elbow. The man noticed her looking at his arm.
“It’s not a scratch, it’s not, please, you can’t leave me you can’t…”
The man vomited heavily. Like a geyser from hell, puke sprayed into the air before falling and covering the dead that surrounded. Apocalypse Girl had the sense to anticipate the sick fountain and stepped back, out of its reach.
“Save me.”
“I will.”
She removed her Braveheart sword and thrust it downwards, straight through his forehead. Placing her boot on the head of the man, she pressed down with her foot and pulled hard on the sword, freeing it from his skull. After wiping her sword clean on a nearby dead zombie’s clothing she took a long drink from her bottle of rum then made her way back to the Mini Cooper. That’s when she heard the singing.
“Why do you build me up buttercup, baby,
Just to put me down and mess me around,
And worst of all, you do do do baby when you say you thing,
But I do de do…”
To her left, only a short walk from her location, a man singing could be heard coming from inside BJ & J Owens newsagents. Apocalypse Girl inspected the exterior of the shop, the ‘NO ZOMBIES’ graffiti on the window, the large pile of dead zombies outside and the ‘Open’ sign on the door. A strong smell of bleach filled her nose.
“I need you,
More than what’s a ma thingy,
And do de da do from the start,
So build me up buttercup don’t break my heart,”
She carefully opened the shop door and poked her head inside. There she saw Barry, the owner of the newsagent with mop in hand, cleaning a blood stained floor with a spring in his step and a song in his heart.
“If you’re coming in shut the door behind you. You’ll let a draft in never mind any zombies that might be close by. As you can see I’ve only just cleaned up after killing the last lot. Now then, what can I get you?" Barry said turning to face her.
"You're open?" she asked.
"Of course I'm open my dear. I've served this community for over thirty years and I'll be damned if I'm going to let a zombie apocalypse stop me now. End of the world or not, people always need air freshener, especially now the dead are stinking up the place. I should do a deal actually. Buy one can of air freshener and get a second half price. I'll make a bloody killing," Barry said as he hurriedly made a special offer sign and hung it from the air freshener section on the shelving unit.
"I'm looking for my boyfriend, Rod Hay? His bike is outside and he was wearing his cycling gear. Have you seen him?" She asked.
Barry paused for a second, sucking the end of his pen as he recalled the events of the day before.
"Ah you must be Mel! He was in here yesterday. Nice fella but a bit harassed as he had just fought off the advances of a tubby naked old woman zombie and a one armed transvestite zombie. I tried to get him to stay but he was adamant he wanted to get home to you. He took a vehicle from outside. Hasn't made it back then eh?" he said.
She shook her head and looked to the floor to hide her upset.
"Are you going to try and find him?" Barry asked.
"I have to," she replied.
"I understand. And I suppose just like your fella there's no talking you into staying here with me, just till things calm down out there?" He asked.
His question was met with a determined shake of the head.
"I didn’t think so. You have the same look in your eye that he had. Here…" he said, throwing her a bottle of water, "Drink this and stay off that rum I can see poking out of your fancy belt. You need to be thinking straight if you’re going to find him." He added.
"Thanks," she replied, catching the bottle and opening the door to l
eave, "You know you really should close the shop?"
"So every bugger keeps telling me!" Barry responded with a smile. “Good luck out there and if you need anything, anything at all, I’m open 6am to 7.30pm daily but I close at 12pm on a Sunday. Everyone’s welcome unless you’re dead then you’ll get a clout around the head with this!” he continued, swooshing his axe handle through the air.
She left BJ & J Owens, dislodged Rod's bike from the rear wheel of the Mini Cooper and pulled away, stalling at the mouth of Balfour Street as it opened up onto Greenway Road.
"He could be anywhere," she said to herself, trying to decide which direction to take.
Right could take her to Weston Point but why would Rod take a route that would send him further away from his home? Left could take her directly towards Runcorn Old Town or it could take her to Heath Road, past the Medical Centre then back to the Old Town.
"The medical centre!" she said.
What if he had been injured? If so, it would be the logical place for him to go. It was only a short drive away and now she had the idea in her mind that he might be there, she couldn’t ignore it.
The journey to Heath Road Medical Centre was similar to what she had already seen of her town. Houses were abandoned or boarded up. People lay dead in driveways, surrounded by their belongings whilst zombies fed on their remains. Was there anywhere in Runcorn that hadn’t fallen to the zombie outbreak? She didn’t think so and the more she saw of her town the more hope that Rod was OK left her heart.
She arrived at the medical centre, parking the Mini next to a Ford Mondeo Estate. She looked into the Mondeo’s interior. Droplets of dried blood were present on the gear stick and steering wheel. With her heart beating out of her chest, she took a deep breath and walked towards the open doorway, the smell of death becoming stronger with each step.
In the waiting room the cause of the stench became apparent. Three dead zombies lay over chairs. Behind the Perspex window of the reception area were another two zombies. Receptionists, identifiable only by their uniforms such was the extent of the damage inflicted to their faces. She looked beyond the waiting room to the small corridor which had several closed doors on either side. At the end of the corridor was a door marked ‘Staff Only’ that stood half open, a bloodied hand print smeared across its middle. The sound of her heart beating was deafening and her legs felt like jelly as she approached and pushed the door open.
In front of her was a man knelt down, facing away from her, sobbing over the body of a dead male. The body was mostly obscured by the man but what she could see was a leg and it was covered with cycle leg warmers and bib shorts. She knew instantly it was Rod and dropped the Bat’leth in shock, the noise causing the man to turn.
“Mel? Is that you?”
The man was Darren, Rod’s brother. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. After convincing herself that he would be OK she was not prepared for this and Darren's presence added to her distress.
With vision blurring, she suddenly felt hot and disorientated. The room closed in and her chest tightened. Feeling trapped and restricted by her attire, she removed her Hulk fist, cape, utility belt and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Mask covering her eyes then slumped to the ground and sat in silence, staring at her boyfriend's corpse.
“I’ve been trying to find you both. I went to your home this morning but you weren’t there. The door was open and there were dead zombies everywhere. I thought maybe you were attacked but got away. The only thing I could think of was to try every medical centre in town starting with the nearest first. That's how I found him," Darren cried.
Mel could not find the words to respond and instead sat trance like, gazing at the bloodied mess that was once Rod's face.
"I've been trying to make sense of what happened. Someone did this to him but why? Over medical supplies? They killed him over medical supplies? Who would do such a thing?" he continued.
"It wasn't medical supplies. He was infected, look at his arm. He was already a zombie when they did this to him, it was self-defence," she said finding her voice.
Darren looked his brother over, noticing the wound on his arm for the first time. He broke down, placing his head into Rod's cold dead chest. He was inconsolable. The pain, loneliness and fear his brother must have endured played through his mind. The more he thought about it the harder he cried. Mel on the other hand said nothing; her body was numb from what she had found.
For the longest time they just sat there. Darren expressing deep despair and Mel, well, she was struggling to feel anything at all. Eventually Darren became exhausted and could cry no longer.
Silence fell and with just her thoughts, Mel finally began to feel something. She felt anger and hate. Anger towards the world and hate towards the zombies responsible for taking Rod away from her. She wanted vengeance for his death and desired nothing more than to set the world alight and watch it burn. She jumped to her feet and replaced the utility belt then cape before placing her hand back inside the Hulk fist and taking the mask in her hand.
“What are you doing Mel, are you leaving? You can come with me back to our place. Everyone is there. They will be so happy if you came back. Please, don’t leave me,” Darren pleaded.
Mel stopped short of leaving the room with her back to Darren. She looked at the mask she held in her hand and thought about his words. Without Rod, she could not go back with his brother. She was happy everyone was safe, truly she was. But leaving with Darren, to be surrounded by Rod’s family, would be a constant reminder of what she had lost. She wasn’t ready for that, not yet. All she wanted was to be alone and to make the undead pay for what they did.
“You should go back to your family Darren,” she said.
“You’re not coming with me?” Darren asked, confused that she would even consider otherwise.
“Here, take this,” she said, rolling her Braveheart sword along the floor towards him, “It was Rod’s, it will keep you safe. Tell everyone I love them.”
“Mel?” he said, the tone of his voice pleading with her not to leave.
“My name isn’t Mel anymore,” she replied, placing her mask back over her eyes, reclaiming the Bat’leth and leaving the room.
“I am Apocalypse Girl.”
Journal Entry 7
“For the last time, what are you listening to?” I again asked 80s Dave, who had done nothing but pace back and forth while smoking cigarettes and humming along to music pumping through his headphones.
My brother had told Dave to wait for him in the spare room whilst he got ready for the ciggy run they were both going on. That was almost an hour ago and Dave was running out of patience.
“Can you even hear me over whatever that God awful noise coming out of your headphones is supposed to be? It sounds like a cat being strangled. When was the last time you took those things off your head anyway? I swear I can see skin from your ears growing over them. They’ll be a part of you soon and you’ll form a symbiotic relationship with your thirty year old Sony Walkman. You won’t even need to press play. One twitch of your eye and the Greatest Hits of Bronski Beat will boom into your ears,” I continued.
“I can hear every word you know, I’m just choosing to ignore you because I know it winds you up. I’ve got to get my kicks where I can these days Ace. Although, I do like your idea of me and my headphones becoming one. That would be fucking sweet kidda,” Dave replied.
“So come on, put me out of my misery and hit me with it, what are you listening to?” I asked.
“Public Image Ltd lar, fucking awesome. John Lydon at his creative best. Some people say he could never top the impact of the Sex Pistols. But PIL was Johnny Rotten showing his genius. Post Punk at its most awesome kidda, pure 80s Gold. Your bro has got an awesome vintage Hitachi hi-fi with a double tape deck in his room. It works too. I banged out ‘The Lunatics have Taken Over the Asylum’ by Fun Boy Three earlier and it sounded fucking immense. Also very apt given our current situation. Runcorn being the asylum and the zom
bies being the lunatics. Anyway, I’m sure you get the comparison. You’re not as stupid as you look never mind what Butty says. Where was I? Oh yeah, Public Image Ltd. I’ll pick up a blank cassette tape whilst I’m out and do you a copy if you want?” he replied.
“Dave, you do know what year it is don’t you? You can’t just pop out to the shops for a blank cassette tape. People don’t use them anymore,” I explained.
“Yeah well, people are dicks,” Dave said, lighting a cigarette and returning to pacing the room. “Where the hell is your brother? It’s been nearly an hour lar. We could have gone and been back by now.”
My brother’s ears must have been burning because right on cue he opened the door and entered the room. I didn’t recognise him at first due to the home made full body armour he was wearing. Butty’s survivalist skills never cease to amaze me and his zombie proof suit left my jaw hanging.
Butty stood in the now open doorway, light from the corridor behind him casting a long intimidating shadow. He was wearing large leather boots which covered his ankles. Protecting the boots, he had attached several metal plates. On his legs he wore the tightest jeans I have ever seen and they left very little to the imagination. Over his knees he wore skateboarding pads and, around his waist, a tool belt which held several knives of various sizes, a crowbar, sling shot and a bag of marbles. Over his stomach and chest he wore a stab proof vest. Covering his elbows he had more skateboarding pads. Protecting his lower arms, he wore shin pads and over his upper arms were plastic tubing. On his head was a builder’s hard hat but even with all of that, the thing I could not avert my eyes from was the lamp shade around his neck.
“Do you remember when we were kids and we used to make our own costumes and pretend we were Transformers? Well that’s what you look like now. Optimus Shite; Halfwit in Disguise,” I teased. “Go on then let’s hear it, explain yourself.”
The Death in a Northern Town Trilogy (Books 1-3): Welcome To Dead Town Page 19
