Blood at the Premiere: A Day One Undead Adventure

by RR Haywood

  ‘You alright, Bri?’ Bennie asks kindly.

  ‘Yeah,’ Brian whispers hoarse and quiet.

  ‘That was insane,’ Bennie says.

  ‘It was,’ Brian replies.

  ‘Did you see Henrietta?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Her boobs almost fell out when she was stabbing that bloke. Man, that was awesome.’

  ‘Bennie!’ Henrietta tuts.

  ‘I didn’t see that,’ Brian admits, looking down the corridor to the dead woman lying in the doorway of the lift.

  ‘No? Mate…like, totally awesome.’

  Henrietta knocks again, sensing the apartment is empty. That feeling when no one is there. Like a hollower knock with a lack of humans to absorb the sound.

  ‘Next one,’ Dolan orders, still sitting on the floor with his legs splayed out and his arms limp at his sides.

  ‘We should check the stairwell,’ Henrietta says.

  ‘Should we?’ Dolan snaps. ‘Is that right, is it? Or should we find a landline and call the emergency services to get me the fuck out of here? Tell me, Henrietta?’

  ‘Okay okay,’ she says, knocking on the next door down. Empty again. She goes down to the next, knocks and waits. Empty. With the blood drying sticky on her hands she tries door after door with the same negative response. Solid wooden doors, too, and no hope of forcing one open.

  Dolan stares at her balefully as she walks back to the group shaking her head. ‘Brilliant,’ he says, withering and full of contempt. ‘Just fucking brilliant. Well done, Henrietta.’

  ‘How is that my fault?’

  ‘HENRIETTA SWALLOW!’

  Feet thunder up concrete stairs and a voice roars out. The noise comes from below with a crash of a door opening and Simon screaming her name before the feet start pounding back up the stairs coming closer until the stairwell door at the end of the corridor bursts open. Simon launches himself through. ‘HENRIETTA SWALLOW…’ he screams the words without looking round. Trapped in a fevered replay of action of searching and screaming the name but so driven by his obsession that he doesn’t look. He ducks back into the stairwell and thunders up the next flight of stairs with her name being repeated at full volume.

  ‘What the fuck?’ Bennie mouths as the sound of the stomping feet stop and Simon’s bellow cuts off midway. A second of silence and he drums back down to burst into the corridor with fresh hope in his eyes as the sights recorded by his brain play catch-up to his overly active mind.

  ‘HENRIETTA SWALLOW,’ he says the name again but this time the voice is full of surprise, relief and emotion. Every inch of him is covered in blood and gore. A walking nightmare from the worst hallucination imaginable.

  ‘Oh hi, Simon,’ Bennie says, waving a hand. ‘You alright then?’

  ‘Oh my god, Henrietta Swallow.’ Simon comes back to life with his feet almost tripping over at the sight of his beloved. ‘I thought I lost you…’

  ‘Er, no,’ Henrietta says.

  ‘Did you find the lawyer? What did he say? Can we get married and have intercourse? OH MY GOD, HENRIETTA SWALLOW, YOU ARE BLEEDING…’

  ‘What? No, it’s…’

  ‘Who hurt you? I’ll kill them…was it that man?’ Simon demands, stalking at Dolan who runs backwards with a whole new look of fear showing on his face.

  ‘Henrietta! Get your stalker away from me.’

  ‘No, Simon…Simon…’ Henrietta moves to intercept the stalker glaring with utter hatred at Dolan. ‘I’m not hurt…’

  ‘I will kill you,’ Simon hisses the words out with a low, demented devil voice that sprays spittle over his bottom lip.

  ‘Simon! That’s the lawyer,’ Henrietta sputters, trying to snap his focus away from Dolan.

  ‘Oh is it?’ Simon switches instantly and alarmingly to a polite, careful tone and an expression of gentleness etched on his face. ‘It is nice to meet you. I’m Simon, Henrietta’s fiancé.’

  ‘Fucking nuts,’ Dolan whimpers.

  ‘Well, you know,’ Simon says, chuckling with good humour, ‘you don’t have to be mad to work here but it helps…’

  ‘S’funny,’ Bennie snorts.

  ‘Hi, Bennie,’ Simon says politely.

  ‘Hi, Simon.’

  ‘DID YOU TOUCH HENRIETTA’S VAGINA? I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU…’

  ‘Simon, he didn’t…he didn’t touch my vagina…’ Henrietta shouts, grabbing his arm. She glares at Bennie, imploring him not to make any stupid comments, but the rock star is drunk, very drunk, and fails to read the body language or the set expression on Simon whose face turns a deep shade of red with his eyes wide and unblinking. Bennie opens his mouth; the joke is there, the invite has been sent, the opening is ripe to be taken, and in his happy world the comment will be in jest with no offence to be taken. Henrietta goes to scream. Dolan whimpers and runs back and Simon stares down in all his mad stalker glory as Brian’s hand reaches out to gently rest across Bennie’s mouth to muffle whatever words stumble out.

  ‘We didn’t touch her vagina, mate,’ Brian says very carefully and very sincerely.

  ‘Okay,’ Simon says, instantly happy.

  ‘Oh fuck,’ Henrietta whispers, closing her eyes as the charged tension eases back down. ‘Simon…what are you doing here?’

  ‘Looking for you, Henrietta Swallow,’ he says as happy as ever with a hand reaching out to stroke her face.

  She leans back but carefully and slowly so as not to cause instant offence. ‘I mean, how did you get here?’

  ‘I walked,’ Simon says, leaning forward with the blood-smeared hand stretching out further to reach the side of her face.

  ‘Okay, er…how did you find me…us?’

  ‘Oh I followed the bodies and those people who keep biting each other.’

  ‘Right, er…please don’t touch my face, Simon. You’re covered in blood.’

  ‘Oh don’t worry, Henrietta Swallow. It’s not mine.’

  ‘Yeah, but…’

  ‘And I could smell you.’

  ‘Smell me?’

  ‘Your perfume. It hangs in the air like roses that throw a scent for bees to come and have intercourse with their vaginas.’

  ‘You followed my perfume?’

  ‘Yes,’ Simon says proudly. ‘I knew you used it so I could track you.’

  She swallows at the implication and lets his hand gently stroke down her cheek while her guts twist up in fear and revulsion.

  ‘Didn’t they bite you?’ she asks in a voice quavering and low.

  ‘No,’ Simon whispers, mistaking her soft voice for passion and trying to match it. ‘I killed them…I killed them for you, Henrietta Swallow.’

  ‘Simon…’

  ‘I like killing for you.’

  ‘Simon…’

  ‘Is that bad?’

  ‘How did you kill them?’ Henrietta asks, staring into his unblinking eyes that lack the spark of understanding and reasoning. It’s not that his eyes are wild or crazy but just wrong. Something in him is wrong. The way he stands and the way he stares. The volume of his voice, his mouth hanging open and his tongue that keeps poking out to wet his lips as though he’s constantly getting ready to kiss her.

  ‘Shush now,’ Simon says with a sickening yearning to his voice. ‘We’re together now.’

  She nods and lifts her own hand to gently pull his away from stroking her face. ‘Simon, how did you kill them?’

  ‘I broke their necks and…but they’re slow and I can run fast so I went round the others so I didn’t kill all of them but I got that man in the alley because he said he kissed you and…’

  ‘He didn’t kiss me, Simon.’

  ‘He told me he KISSED YOU.’

  ‘Don’t shout at me, Simon. He did not kiss me.’

  ‘He smelled really bad,’ Simon says sincerely. ‘Like poo.’

  ‘He said poo.’ Bennie chuckles.

  ‘You killed that bouncer, too,’ Henrietta says, staring into the distant eyes that seem to stare through her as though trying to
see into her soul.

  ‘He attacked me and said he was going to beat me and they said I couldn’t fight unless I was in danger and he said he was going to beat the shit out of me and the tramp man said he kissed you and touched your breasts so I…’ A stream of words all joined together with a rush of air and still he stares unblinking with that wet tongue poking out. He finishes talking, trailing off into silence and trying to smile with an action that is begging to be told he has done the right thing. Childlike but an adult man. A very dangerous adult man.

  Henrietta becomes very aware of where she is. Of the width of the corridor and the length to the walls at both ends. Of the apartment doors all closed and locked and the lift doors pinging softly as they repeat the cycle of trying to close but hitting the corpse and opening again with an almost apologetic hiss. The distance between her and Simon and then the depth between herself and Bennie, Brian and Dolan behind her. The stairwell door further back behind Simon but more than that, more than anything else, she becomes very acutely aware of the knife handle gripped in her right hand and her knuckles turn white as that grip squeezes harder.

  ‘We have to go,’ she says in a dull, lifeless voice that sounds too loud in her own head. As she says the words so her mind whirls and calculates. Dolan and Bennie must survive. Simon can fight and kill. She looks round to the whimpering Dolan as his panic rises with each passing minute. Down to Bennie still sat on the floor with the glazed look of the very drunk. Brian watching her closely with his eyes narrowing. Maybe he isn’t as drunk as she thought, and when he nods slightly it’s as though he’s affirming her own thought processes. She nods back, the same tiny incremental motion and looks back at Simon. ‘You can come with us…’

  Simon nods and opens his mouth to speak, ready to push out another stream of words with a rush of hot air.

  Henrietta gets in first. He’s useful; you need to keep him. ‘If you want me…you will do what I say. Understand?’

  He nods faster, harder. Agreement in his eyes. The object of his obsession saying she will give herself to him and all he has to do is follow her instruction.

  ‘And that means being quiet.’

  He goes to speak but stops with his mouth already forming the words. Another nod with twisted adoration set in his yearning expression. She turns away to blow air out of her cheeks. Stay alive. Keep Dolan and Bennie alive. Reap the rewards. Think clearly. We can’t go down so we must go up. Find an apartment and hide.

  ‘We’re going up. Everyone follow me.’

  She sets off towards the stairwell door with Dolan scampering to catch up for fear of being left at the back, and Simon taking second position behind Henrietta while shooting accusing looks at the others.

  A pause and she listens, wincing at the noise of the others. Simon breathing too close in her ear. Bennie whispering to Brian that they need to find more booze and Dolan shuffling on the spot, scraping his shoes on the thick carpet.

  ‘Shush.’ She presses a finger to her mouth and glances back down the line, looking from face to face. They all go quiet for one second after which they grow bored, restless and start fidgeting and breathing again.

  She goes through into the landing, noticing the difference between the stairwell of the wealthy and the stairwells of the poor. Not that she has ever been poor but she has seen stairwells of council tower blocks, and smelled them, too. This one is much the same, really, with concrete walls and concrete stairs, but these are clean and freshly painted with rubber anti-slip on the edge of each step and a nice wood and brass handrail.

  ‘Stay quiet,’ she whispers, holding a hand cupped to the side of her mouth. She points up while holding a finger to her mouth and again looks to each of them in turn. Drunk, obsessed and plain terrified witless but they seem to take in the importance of being quiet so she sets off.

  Up they go, rising almost silently to the right angle turn of the next landing, then up again to the next floor. At the top she turns and motions for them to stay put and edges towards the door. One step after the other with her feet landing softly and her right hand gripping the hilt of the knife. Gently she applies pressure to the door. Easing it open to form a gap to view through into the next corridor that looks the same as the previous one, apart from the lack of blood and bodies lying in the lift door, that is. All clear and she pulls back ready to turn and wave the rest to follow her. Simon right there. An inch behind her. Dolan behind him. Bennie behind Dolan and Brian at the back, all compressed into a tight space like children hanging from Henrietta’s apron strings.

  ‘Brian,’ she whispers, cupping the side of her mouth again, ‘keep watch here while I try the apartments, okay?’

  ‘On my own?’ Brian whispers back, forming his own whisper shield with his hand.

  ‘I’ll be two minutes.’

  ‘I can’t stay on my own.’

  ‘All of you stay here then…I’ll be right back.’

  ‘I’ll come with you, Henrietta Swallow.’

  ‘I’m not staying with these two fucking idiots.’

  ‘Look for some vodka or something.’

  ‘I can’t stay on my own.’

  ‘Right, Bennie and Brian stay here and keep watch. Dolan and Simon come with me.’

  ‘Why does he have to come?’ Simon asks, whispering overly loud with his hand cupped to the side like the others.

  ‘Because I’m important,’ Dolan whispers.

  ‘Henrietta, look for vodka…not whiskey…unless they don’t have any vodka, then get whiskey, but not gin. I hate gin.’

  ‘Bennie…’ she whispers, glaring at him.

  ‘But if all they have is gin then get the gin.’

  ‘Just stay here and listen…that means staying completely quiet.’

  ‘If they have gin then get some mixer. Neat gin is shit.’

  ‘Bennie! I’m not looking for bloody gin.’

  ‘Yeah, I know, you’re looking for vodka and whiskey but…’

  ‘Oh for the love…right, Dolan, Simon, come with me…Brian, keep Bennie quiet and listen.’

  ‘Got it,’ Brian says, obviously now in control of the half a brain cell they’re all sharing.

  She goes into the corridor with Simon far too close behind her. So close she can almost feel his body pressing against hers, forcing a reflex action of her hand squeezing on the handle of the knife.

  At the first door she knocks quietly and waits. Nothing. An empty, hollow knock. Lifeless and a lack of energy.

  ‘Dolan, you try that side,’ she says, motioning to the left while moving right.

  ‘Fuck off!’

  ‘Don’t swear at Henrietta Swallow.’

  ‘What? I’m not going up there on my own.’

  ‘Dolan, it’s an empty corridor.’

  ‘One might come out of the apartment.’

  ‘How the hell would it get in there in the first place?’

  ‘Terrorism,’ Dolan says knowingly. ‘They do things like that. You’d better do it.’

  ‘Right. Okay,’ she says with forced calmness and knocks on the next door. Nothing. Nothing from any of them. All empty and hollow.

  ‘What did you get?’ Bennie asks hopefully as they regather in the stairwell.

  ‘Empty. We’ll go up again,’ she says, moving to the top of the stairs leading down and holding her hand for silence so she can listen. Again they shuffle, whisper, move, fidget, breathe and create a din of what feels like epic proportions. She turns again with eyes rolling and her face ready to deliver another glare, but the door banging open below echoes up the stairwell loud and distinct. A dull thud followed by the growling, hissing mob cramming through to slap feet down on concrete stairs.

  A simple word said simply and it comes out as her body is already bursting to twist round and aim for the next flight up. ‘Run.’

  Up the two flights to the next level and this time she doesn’t give instruction but runs into the perfectly presented corridor to run down hammering on the doors. The four follow on her heels, desperate
to be close to Henrietta and jostling into one another as she reaches the end and starts the about turn.

  ‘Move,’ she shouts, the word forcing a path through them and narrowly avoiding stabbing Simon in the arse with the point of the knife. Back down and hammering on the doors. No answer. No response. Nothing.

  ‘Up again.’ She runs for the stairwell door with the others close behind. The noise from below is now much closer and rising with every second. She powers up the next flight, ignoring Dolan’s plaintive moans. Through the next door to the first apartment and she uses the solid end of the knife handle to bang on the solid wood.

  ‘ANYONE?’ she shouts. ‘WE NEED HELP…’

  ‘HHEEELLLLPPPPP,’ Dolan screams the word with his hands pushing through his hair and again they run after Henrietta up the corridor.

  Still nothing. Back down the corridor and into the stairwell and a noise now far too close for comfort. Feet slapping fast and the groans coming thicker, longer and fiercer as the predators gain closer to the prey.

  Relentless and never ending and she gains a glimpse of a future played out with running and dying.

  Onto the next flight and the urgency clamours up as fast as she powers round the landing and up onto the next floor. Into the corridor and working down the doors almost to the end by the time the four get through behind her.

  ‘PLEASE…WE NEED HELP…’ she shouts over and again. ‘SOMEONE LET US IN…’

  Nobody does. Whether they are empty or the occupants decline to admit the bloodied, shouting woman and her yelping companions is unknown, but there is no time to dwell. She harries, pushes and cajoles the four back down the corridor and through the door.

  ‘RUN…GO, GO…’ she shouts the orders, pushing into Brian’s back as Simon tries to drop back from his lead position to be close to Henrietta. Dolan slams into Simon trying to turn, slowing them both down as Bennie crashes into them. The three go down in a tangle of limbs and shouts.

  ‘UP…GET UP…’ She reaches in to grab and heave fully grown men to their feet and push them up the stairs as the noises from the horde grow louder and closer.

  ‘OH FUCK…OH NO…’ At the top Dolan breaks into full panic at the sight of the brick wall and the distinct lack of another flight of stairs going up.