Tony's legs tired quickly and he sat for a moment. He had only walked a few flights and could feel his calves constrict as if someone was reaching through his skin and gripping the muscle tight. He could hear Nick, several flights ahead of him, happily chattering away, planning out how their living arrangements would work.
"So this is what we'll do. Me and the kids will have the top floor and you can have the one below us. We can share the supplies out between us. The thing about this building, Tone, is all the residents were knocking on a bit and you know what old people are like for hoarding food don’t you? There's enough grub in this place to last 3 zombie apocalypses. Apocalypses, apocali, apocalees… what's the plural for more than one end of the world? Oh I don’t fucking care! It's the baby that's the problem really. Our bounty from the Co-Op should keep us going for a while. No doubt we'll have to go out again, further afield next time I reckon. But there's plenty of cars around and I’ve seen Gone in 60 Seconds like fifty times so hot wiring one should be a piece of piss. Oh it's gonna be great. There's a Karaoke machine in one of the apartments and I’ve got a load of CD's in my Nan's. I’m sure there's some Terrorvision in there. Once you've had a rest maybe you can belt out a few numbers? The kids would love that…"
"What the hell have I gotten myself into?" Tony said to himself, rubbing warmth into his calves before continuing the climb.
When he finally reached the top floor he found Nick stood quiet at an open apartment doorway looking in. He joined him to see what had caught his attention. The doorway led to a living room and on the couch slept a young girl of no more than 8 years of age. In her arms she cradled a baby.
“Meet Sophie and baby Gaby. I’ll put the shopping away and sort some milk out for the little one. You make yourself at home. It’s good to have you with us Tone. Together I think we can really give these girls a chance,” Nick said sincerely before leaving to take the trolley to the apartment’s kitchen.
Tony walked to the girls and knelt down in front of them. They looked so peaceful and innocent unlike the world he had awoken to that morning. Gaby began to stir, her sister’s long brown hair tickling her face. He reached to remove it but on touching the hair, Sophie opened her eyes.
“You’re going to die tomorrow!” she said quickly before closing her eyes and falling back to sleep.
Tony went cold on hearing her words and fell backwards in shock. What made her say it he did not know and he did not want to be around should she wake and say it again. He walked to the kitchen area where Nick was sterilising baby bottles.
"Hey up Tone, fancy a brew? Kettle’s over there or if you want something harder there's lager in the fridge and plenty more Jack Daniels in the cupboard, just make yourself at home. This is your place now too. Hey later on maybe you could give us all a sing song, the little ones will love that. There are a couple of guitars in one of the apartments so we could have a jam too! I mean I'm not as good as you but I can hold my own," Nick said excitedly.
"The girl, Sophie? She err, she just spoke," Tony said, visibly shaken.
"She said you were going to die didn’t she? She said the same to me too. I wouldn’t worry so much. Poor kid has been through a lot in a short space of time. Grief affects us all in different ways. Look at me, I killed my Nan and I haven't been sober since!" Nick said with a drunken grin.
Tony didn't reply, instead he left Nick preparing the baby milk and went in search of somewhere to rest his head, being careful not to wake Sophie and Gaby as he left the apartment.
Remembering what his intoxicated host had said, he walked down the stairway to the apartment below. Its layout was identical to Nick's – a large living area with separate kitchen and a doorway leading to a bedroom. He surmised that a man lived here, and a lonely one too. He could see that from the tired furniture which consisted of two deck chairs and a foot rest pointing at an old black and white television set. Old military pictures, empty bottles of real ale and heavy dust completed the scene. He entered the kitchen and inspected the cupboards. They were stocked fully with long life tinned foods such as corned beef, beans, processed fruit and stewed steak. The fridge was void of anything edible and was instead filled with bottled water. Whoever lived here had been preparing to see this thing out.
He opened the door to the bedroom. Inside, a single mattress lay on the floor, thick with dirt and yellow and brown stains. Also in the room was a telescope positioned to look through the bedroom window and next to it a desk with an open journal, a laptop and C.B. equipment on top. He took the journal and exited the room, shutting the door behind him.
It was a beautiful journal, bound in a deep blue leather with imprints of stars and planets. On the reverse of the cover, written in ink it said
"Property of Trust No One: Aliens of Runcorn Spotters Elite"
He started to read. It was an account of Trust No One’s nightly star watchings and reports of strange objects in the sky over the town. There was even newspaper cuttings detailing eye witness accounts of cylinder shaped objects hovering over the River Mersey, sucking up the water. There were transcripts of conversations with other members of Aliens of Runcorn Spotters Elite. Members such as Sky Watcher and Lone Wolf. It was whilst reading through a transcript he realised what the acronym for this group was. A.R.S.E. They were all members of a secret group of alien enthusiasts called A.R.S.E! Tony couldn’t contain himself and fell to the floor in a fit of laughter. He giggled so hard he could barely breathe. In an attempt to regain control he thought about all the horrible things he had seen that day from waking inside a plane wreck, the rabid geese, watching Mike transform into the Undead, Andy with a French loaf sticking out of his mouth and the chilling prediction of death from Sophie, but nothing could calm his laughter. He knew it wasn't even that funny but the thought of people calling themselves A.R.S.E was too much and there was no coming back. He would have to see it through.
After what felt like hours, his laughing fit subsided and he lay on the floor exhausted. With heavy eyes he drifted into a sleep with the journal in his hand and began dreaming of home. His dreams took him back to being a child at Christmas with family all around, sleeping with bellies full from his mother's festive feast. His granddad, mother, father and sister all lay slouched wearing paper party hats, snoring as Queen Elizabeth II delivered her Christmas Speech on the television.
Tony sat on the floor playing with his toys. He looked to his snoozing family and felt blessed and full of love. Then he noticed something, a small rip in the flesh under his mother's eye. He watched as it split and opened wider. Then another tear appeared on her cheek, then her neck and on her forehead. He looked to his other family and the same was happening to them and lesions broke out across their bodies splitting their skin.
His nightmare continued as out of the wounds slithered thick black worms. Young Tony was frightened and quickly scurried backwards, bumping up against his television set where Queen Elizabeth II was still addressing her public. If he’d looked around he would have noticed that she had transformed into the undead and now wore a crown fashioned from human hands and a gown made from the skinned faces of Mike, Gary, Andy, Nick and the girls Sophie and Gaby.
"Nobody can save you now," she screeched.
Her arms reached through the television set and wrapped around him, dragging him screaming through the TV screen.
He woke from his nightmare eyes wide and unable to breath due to the large hand that choked his throat. A heavy set man lent over him, positioning his large round face close to his, exposing his crooked and yellow plaque stained teeth. The man breathed heavily, the smell of stale cigarettes and coffee filled Tony’s crinkled nose. Behind the man, he could see an elderly, thin woman with short grey hair and skin similar to cracked leather.
“You should have stayed upstairs!” the woman said.
The woman reached down to Tony’s face and with a mutilated zombie hand, scratched a bloodied fingernail across his face, tearing the flesh.
With his free hand the h
eavy set man slipped a knife deep into Tony’s stomach and began tearing through his skin, ripping his abdomen wide open. The elderly, thin woman watched on, an evil grin creasing her gaunt face.
Tony felt nothing, only warmth as he slipped from life. His final thoughts lay with Sophie and her prediction of his death. The man moved away from Tony’s lifeless body and stood next to the woman. Together they started to count.
“1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7…”
They had barely counted for two minutes before Tony’s body started to twitch.
“Interesting,” the woman said, “very interesting. Almost half the time it took for the last one to turn. Now what did we do differently? They’re a similar build and height. I broke their skin with your daddy’s hand and you stabbed them both in the same place. Age! Age is the difference. This one is younger than the last that has to be it. Finish him son, he’s served his purpose.”
The man walked over to Tony and looking into his white glazed eyes he stabbed the knife hard through his forehead, killing him for a second time. He looked up to the ceiling as the muffled sounds of a Karaoke machine could be heard. The song was Oblivion by Terrovision and the man singing was murdering it.
He retracted the knife from Tony’s forehead and smiled.
“Momma?” he said to the elderly, thin woman in a drawn out deep dull voice.
“Not just yet son. We’ll let the idiot think he’s alone for now. He’ll come looking for his friend soon enough. We must be patient and take our chance when presented. What have I always told you?” she asked.
“Good things come to those who wait?” he replied, his deep rumbling tone suited his large frame perfectly.
“That’s right. Dispose of the body, he’s already stinking up the place. Then we’ll get some rest,” she said.
The man lifted Tony’s body with little effort, opened the apartment window and pushed him through, sending him falling to the hard concrete outside. The elderly woman placed her arm around her son and walked him to the bedroom, playing with his hair and humming the lullaby Rockabye Baby.
Journal Entry 8
With Emily and Jonathon in charge of finishing off fortifying Diant basecamp, I took the opportunity to take a shower. Man it felt good to have the hot water rush over my body. Maybe it was being outside in the cold all morning, maybe it was the thought of washing away the memories of all the horrible things I had seen, done, touched and stepped in since the zombies came, or maybe it was knowing that this near scalding hot shower could very well be the last one I took. Who knows how long the power is going to last? Shit it could have cut out there and then and I would have been left stark naked freezing my bollocks off whilst stumbling around trying to find a towel with my eyes full of soap. Thankfully that didn’t happen and I was enjoying one of the greatest showers of my life.
There’s something about the sudden change in temperature from shivering cold to boiling hot that causes my body to slip into complete relaxation. The only thing that would have made it perfect was if I was having a bath instead. But there was not a chance in hell that I was going to lie down in my brother’s tub. It had more limescale and dirt than Bigfoot’s shitter. It was difficult enough to stand in it never mind take a soak and so you can put my decision into perspective just remember, I’ve had my feet inside of a zombie’s head.
As the bathroom filled with steam, visibility became restricted to the point that I could no longer see my hand in front of my face. With piping hot water hitting my skin, the sensation was truly blissful. Muscle by muscle I felt the tension ease from my body and I allowed myself to drift, to take myself away from the hell that was now my life. No zombies and no death, just complete relaxation. I took myself back to when Emily was born, to what it felt like witnessing my daughter arrive into this world. To hold her close. To watch as her tiny hand wrapped around my finger, gripping it tightly. To look upon my partner Sarah, her face beaming with pride. Even after a long and exhausting labour she had never looked so beautiful. Then I recalled the moment she looked back at me, smiled her perfect smile and said “We did it” before closing her eyes and falling into a sleep she would never wake from.
You know, I think that is the first time I have ever told anyone other than my brother and daughter what happened that day. How Sarah, my long term girlfriend and mother to my daughter, was taken from us. I’m not sure why I never told anyone. I suppose I thought it was nobody’s business. Things seem kinda different now and if, as Butty thinks, people will read this journal when hell is over, I feel I should be as truthful as possible. Doctors said she contracted an infection during pregnancy that went undetected and that it was extremely rare for such a thing to happen. Their explanation was as good as a shrug of the shoulders as far as I was concerned. Nothing about what happened to Sarah made sense or could be explained. Not to me anyway. I just wasn’t prepared to listen and I wasn’t for a long time.
For many years, that image of Sarah smiling at me and saying “We did it” haunted me. Whenever I closed my eyes I saw her face. As soon as I woke, went to work, played with Emily… no matter what it was I was doing, her face was always there and it was agony. Everything I did reminded me of her and at times I even found myself begging to God for the memory of Sarah to disappear, to be erased from my life forever. People say that time is a great healer and they are right, it is. But do you know what else is a great healer? Being a father. As Emily grew I recognised more and more of her mother in her, in her mannerisms, her fussiness over food and in her smile. That smile was the turning point for me. How could I look upon my daughter smiling her mother’s perfect smile and feel pain and hatred? I now understood that what happened to Sarah could not be undone and, more importantly, that nobody was to blame. Sarah may be gone but she is still very much alive within Emily. Once I had realised that, the memory of Emily’s birth and Sarah looking at me smiling for the last time was no longer something that haunted me. I began to cherish that memory and I have visited it often over the years. Whenever I feel alone and whenever I need comfort, all I have to do is close my eyes and my world is again whole. With everything that had happened since yesterday I was glad to have that memory to call upon.
I was lost within my happy place, enjoying again being with my daughter and the love of my life, when a deathly smell dragged me back to reality. Through the thick steam that engulfed my brother’s bathroom an evil scent filled my nostrils. I feared the worst, believing the undead had somehow managed to breech DIANT Basecamp. I turned off the shower taps and gingerly stepped out of the grotty bath tub, reaching around in the hope of finding something I could use to protect myself. There was nothing but I did find the door handle and quickly opened it with a view to making my escape. On pulling the door open, the bathroom steam escaped through it so fast I felt a breeze brush against the back of my cooling wet legs. I swear it was as if it wanted out of that bathroom more than I did. Out on the hallway I spied my daughter’s hockey stick which I quickly grabbed then tentatively moved back towards the bathroom, placing my back against the wall next to its open doorway. Two thoughts ran through my mind. First and foremost I was thinking of the potential threat and if there indeed was a zombie in the bathroom, how I was going to take care of it. My other thought was of Emily and Jonathon. Were they OK? If they were then I hoped to God neither of them walked out onto the hallway now, especially Emily. The last thing any daughter needs to see is her father naked.
It had to be a zombie. The smell coming through the open doorway was so bad only the undead could be responsible. With the steam sufficiently dispersed now was as good a time as any to make a move. I took a deep breath and let out what I hoped would be a menacing war cry but in reality sounded more like Robin Gibb warbling out a Bee Gees number. I ran into the bathroom like a screaming banshee, swinging Emily’s hockey stick like a maniac but to my surprise I hit nothing. I opened my eyes (I know I know, it’s a miracle I’ve stayed alive this long) to see the bathroom was empty. But the smell, fuck me it was stronge
r than ever.
Where the hell was it coming from? I scanned the room. Apart from the grime and dirt that already coated the walls, ceiling, floor, sink and tub there was nothing I could see to lay blame to the hideous stink. Then my gaze fixed on the toilet and the old wooden lid that was hiding any content. I realised something was in there because steam was escaping from the small gap between the porcelain toilet rim and the wooden seat. I lifted the lid and it was like opening Pandora’s Box. Unlike Pandora’s Box which contained hate, envy and every illness, disease and bad thing known to man, my brother’s toilet housed the biggest turd I have ever seen. I mean it was bigger than a house brick. King Kong would have shed a tear squeezing this one out.
When I first entered the bathroom, before taking a shower, the room had felt arctic. The cold air must have frozen the mammoth shit timber but then having the shower run so hot had thawed it out, unleashing its whiff. Only one man could have been responsible for this and I think we both know who that is. 80s Dave, the filthy bastard. He could have bloody flushed the thing! Although, looking at the size of his deposit I’m not surprised he didn’t. It really would have tested the plumbing. I had to grab a coat hanger from my brother’s bedroom and prod at the humongous turd till it was broken up enough to flush. By the time I was done I felt like I needed another shower!
Dried and dressed but with the whiff of the bathroom still tickling my nose hairs, I walked out onto the hallway. My intention was to check on Emily and Jonathon and how they were progressing with securing the house when I noticed the door leading down to the cellar was open. This struck me as strange as since we arrived here yesterday, none of us had ventured to the ground floor of the house and I was sure I had noticed it was closed before I took my shower.
The Death in a Northern Town Trilogy (Books 1-3): Welcome To Dead Town Page 23
