by Al K. Line
But the plan had been made, and it was important that they learn how to survive in the ravaged new world they found themselves in. Coping and surviving meant one thing: supplies. Food was not low as such, but there were minimal canned goods left, with luxuries such as tea and coffee, sugar, powdered milk, tinned goods of all description, rice, pasta and other basics all either gone or on the low side. And that was only the beginning of what they needed.
A large list had been drawn up by the women, Kyle and Al not being trusted to come back with anything but snacks, bread and cheese, and handfuls of free DVDs. The last thing the girls wanted was to be subjected to season upon season of Dexter and The Walking Dead! Apart from the huge grocery list there were myriad odds and ends that were needed: sanitary towels, formula for Tomas, diapers and all kinds of lotions and potions. Detergent to keep clothes clean — though the mysteries of the washing machine still evaded both men. Toothpaste and on and on it went.
Plus some serious hardware they apparently needed if they were to make Ty y Diafol as secure as possible. This meant motion sensor lights and deep cycle storage batteries, so they could have power without the generator and run the sensor system.
So, what could you do but go to the out of town superstores?
The only way to get as much as they could in one go was to visit one of those random places in the absolute middle of nowhere off a commuter road in Wales that held not only a Tesco supermarket but other large stores too. B&Q, that contained DIY equipment, an eclectic shop called Argos that sold nearly anything you could think of from batteries to large screen TVs, and everything else in between. They thought they could get away with hitting all three stores in one day if they were fast, kept their wits about them, and absolutely tried their best not to get eaten.
Kyle's heart was pounding through his chest like it might explode. After the relative peace and feeling of safety at the manor house coming back to what used to be civilization was like re-entering hell.
Passing through the small town to reach the conglomeration of large stores brought back the reality of the world they were living in. Zombies tried to grab at the car, a look of desperation on their faces. The hunger had done nothing but intensify over the intervening weeks, and they were obviously getting smarter too. They just didn't seem as mindless as they once had.
Only a few were encountered, most had long since moved on looking for fresh meat, but it meant that they were no longer confined to once populated areas. They were anywhere and everywhere — there was no telling when you would encounter one of the desperate infected. There was absolutely no sign of another living soul however.
Arriving at the parking area for the supermarket first it was surprising quite how many cars were still in their spaces. Almost like just a normal day out shopping. Nobody apart from them was here to do a weekly shop, everyone else was either dead inside or had wandered off looking for their next meal.
Inside, the place stank to high heaven. The combination of putrefying flesh, rotting fruit and vegetables, plus all manner of meat, fish and dairy on the turn was not conducive to loading up your wonky trolley with the goodies you wanted.
What Kyle and Al were very surprised by however was the relative normalcy of the store, apart from the dead bodies and the smell, of course. Kyle had a vision of utter carnage and reckless abandon in his head. Expecting to find shelves stripped bare and just the odd jar of Marmite left behind — nobody was ever that desperate.
Instead what they found was that the store was laden with goods. The place had hardly been touched at all. The explanation was simple, nearly everyone else was dead. The few people that had survived, and had taken a risk and come shopping, couldn't make a dent in the sheer volume of food on offer. Think how many trolleys full of items you would have to collect to make your local supermarket look like they were running low on stock, you couldn't do it.
So they found themselves with pretty much free reign when it came to long-life goods. They just had to try to navigate around the bodies of all shapes, sizes, and ages that lay in various pieces throughout the aisles.
First things first, the toiletries section. Kyle ripped open a pack of cotton wool and some Olbas Oil and put a few drops on four small wads. He stuffed two up his nose and gave the others to Al — instant relief from the stench.
Then they pretty much emptied the stock from the pharmacy section, if it was a prescription medication, and thus hard to come by, they took it. Better to be safe than sorry. Next they methodically went through their list, getting a surprising number of items, although as usual there were a few things that were impossible to find. You needed some direction if you were ever to find the Olive Oil for example. It was always hidden somewhere weird.
And why were Pringles always BOGOF? Not that it mattered any more, Kyle just wondered is all.
Between them they stocked up two trolleys each, plenty for a good few months. They focused on rice, pastas, tins of all description, and once loaded into the car they came back and did it all over again. The place was eerie, nobody else was there, alive or undead, just them, the remains of those once living, and the silence. The fact that the doors to the supermarket were wedged wide open meant that anyone inside had long ago wandered off.
Next it was time for some DIY items. A quick drive to the entrance and they jumped out, making sure Cassie locked all doors and was ready to start the car in an instant, just in case. They had to prize open the doors, they had been closed when the power went off, and it was down to Al for this brute-force job.
What was on the list?
Electrical cable for wiring in new motion sensor lights, the lights themselves, and hopefully a book on how the hell you did it. They found plenty of the things they needed, and they both grabbed a number of things they thought they might need, but weren't exactly sure what they really were. They found a large number of heavy duty deep cycle leisure batteries too, which were going to be totally invaluable.
And then they walked down the plumbing aisle, chatting away to each other, discussing the finer points of blue or red flanged widgets, when Kyle smashed his trolley into a zombie. There were more behind him, a lot more.
All hell broke loose.
They were both taken off-guard, totally unprepared for the absolute ferocity the zombies now possessed. They were gaunt, they were terrifying, and the cotton wool had totally masked the smell that would have warned them about what they were about to face.
The lead zombie lunged for Kyle, snarling and teeth bared, its hands just missing tearing a strip from Kyle's face. Kyle smashed the trolley into it, pulling his mace from a holster he had rigged on his back. The shotgun from the manor house, along with boxes of ammunition they had found, was still in the Land Rover. Kyle didn't trust himself with it and preferred his mace. The zombie thrust aside the trolley and just flew at Kyle. He let swing, smashing into the side of its head and sending it flying into a wall of u-bends and assorted bits of plastic piping. Then the rest were on them — manic, famished and terrifying.
Kyle went down, slipping on the remains of someone on the floor. Two zombies were on him in an instant. Al simply grabbed them and threw them aside, tugging Kyle's arm and nearly yanking his shoulder from its socket as he pulled him upright.
"You are okay?"
"Fine, fine, let's sort these buggers out," said Kyle, taking an almighty swing at a manic woman still in her Manager's overalls. A massive crack signified that her brains were well and truly mushed. Next came a young assistant, all gnarly and swollen in the face, an ear ripped off and oozing something gross. He ran right over the bodies on the floor, howling like a banshee as he clawed maniacally for Al first. Al simply swatted him away with his giant ham of a fist, then was on the zombie and grabbed its head in one open palmed grip and plunged it into the floor with a sickening squelch. The force so hard it didn't crack so much as simply splat.
Kyle made a note never to get on the wrong side of Al if he ever wanted to see another rainy day in Britain.
One more to go and they took no chances. Kyle swung his weighted antique weapon back in a steep arc, ready to let loose with his new found musculature. Al bent forward, arms out in front of him like he was about to start Round 3 of a wrestling match — Al vs Zombies. There would only be one winner.
Here comes the zombie, no match for Al. This particular foe used to be Mr. Armitage, a seventy seven year old man, employed to show that the chain really did care about giving the elderly a job. Small, wizened before the botnet hit, he had been on a break with the other workers on his shift when the infection began. He was infected by looking at a news story on some blog or other about a hacker that had managed to gain backdoor access into smart fridges and then had sent out 2 million spam emails in the course of an hour. You really couldn't make this stuff up, I kid you not. It happened, look it up.
After an age stuck in the aisles of the DIY store, what was Mr. Armitage was currently little more than skin and bones. Never the first to get to the rapidly dwindling fresh meat available, he, along with the others, had not made it out before the power went and the doors jammed shut. Ever since, the gnawing hunger inside had gone unsatiated, so he had burned rapidly through his fuel reserves; his skin was now parchment thin, large coils of black veins crawling around his face and hands like they had a sentience all their own.
His body was trying to adjust, if he had another meal then fat stores would certainly be laid down in case of lean times ahead, but currently there was little left of this part-time OAP DIY assistant.
He came for them.
Even before Kyle could get a bit of swinging practice in Al simply pulled his fist back and smashed it almost through the face of the zombie as it ran as fast as it could toward the pair. What was left on the floor of the once helpful assistant and keen gardener on his days off was not a pretty sight. His face had caved in and Al had to pull a plate of false teeth out of his knuckles.
"Better get some treatment for that Al, god knows whose brains that dude had stuck in his gob," said Kyle.
"Ugh, I will not want to think of that at all Kyle," the big guy said, throwing the gnashers over the top of the rows of plumbing paraphernalia.
They continued the rest of their shopping expedition without further attack, but they pulled the swabs from their nostrils, took care when turning corners and even managed to get nearly everything they needed from the shopping list they had been given.
"Job's a good 'un," said Kyle, slamming the door shut back at the Land Rover after they had loaded it up.
"Any bother?" asked Cassie, eyeing them up and down, wondering what the hell had happened.
"Just some rather unhelpful shop assistants," said Kyle. "Nothing new there though." Which was a little unfair really, Mr. Armitage had been a star employee when still alive.
Kyle rummaged about in the back and grabbed the emergency medical kit. He cleaned out Al's wound quickly, then gave the big guy a handful of antibiotics to swallow. They now had bags of the stuff thanks to the in-store pharmacy in the supermarket, he just didn't have a clue which bag of shopping they were actually in.
Although the encounter had been more than enough for one day they still had one more stop to make, the King of all shops — Argos.
The doors were wedged tight, so Al worked his magic again. Once inside it was obvious that there had been some serious bother that went down, the place was in total chaos. Piles of bodies, catalogs, and the tiny pens you used to note down what you wanted to order were sticking out of people, cheap watches and jewelery flung every which way. As they took it all in a horde of eleven middle aged women in uniform with eleven different hair colors came running down the aisles situated behind the serving counter and jumped at them in a swarm of middle-aged mayhem.
Al batted at them with his hands, Kyle swung and swung until he was exhausted, but the women kept on coming.
"Let's get out of here Al, they are worse than the bloody OAPs," shouted Kyle.
"Agree," said Al, not arguing.
"Leg it," shouted Kyle as he grabbed Al by the arm and started running. They hit the gap in the door and squeezed through, Al and Kyle grabbing one door each when outside and closing the once automatic doors tight.
"Man, I fucking hate shopping," said Kyle.
"Ten pence," said Al, shaking his head.
They ran back to the Land Rover and jumped in.
"Sorry, Argos was all sold out," said Kyle, trying to make light of the middle-aged zombie mayhem they had narrowly escaped. Cassie merely eyed them suspiciously.
These two seem to be actually enjoying themselves.
"Hmm," she muttered.
Kyle then went dead still, feeling weird and knowing exactly what the sensation was.
"Something's wrong, back at the house," he said. His chest heaving — totally spent from the exertion and adrenaline rush that was receding as rapidly as it came. He had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"You are knowing this thing for sure?" asked Al.
"I know it." Kyle did indeed know it, he sometimes simply knew things. There was only ever one underlying factor — it was only about people he cared deeply for. Just like he knew his parents were two of the first to be taken by the zombie botnet, he knew they had to get back to the house, and quick.
###
As Cassie drove as fast as she safely could through the lanes and headed back to their home Kyle forgot himself and started blathering away about the feeling he had. That he thought Ven might be doing something stupid because of what she had done to the world. Kyle was positive something bad was happening, and he feared for the safety of Ven and little Tomas. He also had an ominous feeling about the responsibility the aftermath of the botnet had on her sanity.
"What are you meaning, the zombies are the fault of Ven?" asked Al, not quite understanding.
"Um, well, she built the computer program that delivered the pictures that caused people to become zombies," Kyle said. He realized too late that he had said too much, and was now trying to explain what had happened.
"So Ven is responsible. She has killed my mother, but also all the other people in the world too." It wasn't a question.
"It's not like that Al," said Cassie. "It was an accident, she made the program but she thinks someone else must have changed something. It just all went very wrong."
Kyle and Cassie exchanged glances, rage was palpable in the air, you could almost taste the fury building in Al. He was very tense in his seat, his huge hands bunched into fists, anger written large across his face.
Kyle and Cassie had been trying to explain in a similar vein for some time now, and it didn't get better with subsequent telling. Al was obviously finding it impossible to deal with in a manner that would lead to forgiveness.
"So, she killed everyone, all the people I had known ever, and the rest of the world is also dead. Or it is worse than that and all that is left are the zombies that eat now." Again, not a question.
"Al, you have to understand, it was an accident. She only wanted to steal people's money through her program, not turn them into zombies," pleaded Kyle. Even to him it sounded weak.
"And would that be making it alright then. No. I think that Ven is not being a good person, and I am not being sure about you any more," said Al, pointing a very accusing finger at both Cassie and Kyle. "She is why Mike is not a living person now Cassie. You can forgive?" It was a question.
"I can," said Cassie, the memory of Mike sending a tear running down her cheek.
God, I don't know if I can handle any more of this, thought Cassie. She was just so fucking sad, and tired. Tired to her very bones.
"I cannot," said Al. "Stop now please."
"What? C'mon Al," pleaded Kyle. "We're buddies."
"No, not buddies now. Stop the car." Al hammered a huge fist onto the door of the Land Rover and Cassie stopped the car in shock.
Al opened the door, grabbed the backpack he took everywhere with him, and simply walked away.
No
goodbye, no looking back, nothing.
He walked back the way they had come and disappeared around a bend in the quiet country lane.
He was gone from their lives.
"Just drive," said Kyle, slumping back into his seat, a sense of the futility of it all overcoming him, leaving him drained and exhausted.
Cassie drove home. Another person gone from their lives for good.
Good luck Al, and I hope you find people that deserve your kind heart this time.
Why did this keep happening — people leaving her?
Ven Goes Surfing
"What the fuck are you doing? Are you off your bloody rocker or what?" Kyle was seriously annoyed with Ven, really annoyed... a lot. They had made it back to the house as fast as possible, Kyle simply knew that Ven was in some kind of danger.
Ven was in tears, she was sobbing uncontrollably, great racks of grief pulsing through her body. She couldn't stop herself, the enormity of what she had done finally sinking in.
It was a burden nobody should have to bear yet it was her fault, and she finally understood that.
She had been sat in the car for over an hour now. Bos Bos was in the passenger seat, looking confused and worried, his tail between his pudgy legs, his eyes downcast. Tomas was strapped into the back asleep, a Forest Bear hat keeping his little head warm. The rest of the Subaru was full of things Ven had loaded up, because she was going to leave.
She had not packed her hair straighteners, not packed countless clothes and shoes, she had packed things that she would actually need. Such was her state of mind, everything she had caused washing over her and stripping her down to a shell of her former self, meant she finally came to her senses in terms of what was needed if you were to face a world infested with ravenous zombies.
