Colin opened the door to the canteen and was hit by the atmosphere. The rest of the building’s captives were inside, laughing and talking and eating. Although the camp lights cast a harsh white glow, there was a jovial party mood. The smell of cooking raised everyone’s morale and it felt more like an impromptu barbeque than a compulsory sanctuary.
“Ah, sleeping beauty’s awake!” Thomas exclaimed.
There was a weak cheer from the gathered survivors and Colin raised a hand in acknowledgment.
“You feeling better, big man?” Billy asked.
“Yeah, a bit thirsty and a pounding headache, but yeah, good,” Colin said. “What happened? I don’t remember much.”
“I’m guessing you banged your head when you crashed John’s car into the school gates,” Billy told him.
“It’s dark outside; how long was I out?” Colin asked.
Billy glanced at his watch. “A good six hours.”
“Would you like one?” Liz offered, holding out a breaded lump of chicken.
Even bathed in the sickening blue flame from the camping stove and the harsh white light of the lantern, the amorphous chunk of factory-rendered meat looked very appetizing.
“Please. I’m famished,” Colin said, rubbing his stomach.
“Should we be cooking all this stuff?” John asked. “I thought you wanted to save it.”
“This won’t keep,” Liz explained. “It’s all the food from the school freezers that defrosted. At least if I cook it off, it’ll last cold for a day or two.”
“Looks like you’ve cooked off enough food to last a month,” Thomas chimed.
“You’ll be surprised how quickly it will go with eleven mouths to feed,” Liz said.
There was the clunk of glass against glass and Sharon made a fake cough to draw everyone’s attention.
Clutched in her hands were four glass bottles.
She announced, “I was saving these for... well, I’m not sure now, but it feels appropriate to open them tonight.”
She set three of the bottles down on a convenient table and ripped the foil from the fourth. In a rather unladylike stance, she gripped the bottom of the bottle between her thighs and the neck with both hands.
“One, two, three!”
Sharon popped the cork from the bottle. There was a dull sizzle and the cork tumbled to the floor.
“Disappointing,” Sharon said, obviously expecting more of a spectacle. “I’m sure it will still taste just as good.” She beckoned the group over. “Grab a cup everyone. John, be a dear and open the rest of these.”
“These were the prize for the highest monthly sales total,” John said, picking up a bottle.
“Don’t think we’re going to meet target this month, John, now do we?" Sharon said, filling a coffee mug with the champagne.
“Suppose not,” John said reluctantly as he popped the cork.
A line formed and Sharon and John started pouring the beverage into a variety of drinking vessels.
“Hold on a minute,” John said, tilting the neck of the bottle vertical again. “Aren’t you a little young to be getting a drink?”
Karen stood with a plastic cup in hand, her head cocked.
“How old are you, girl?” John asked.
“Eighteen,” Karen lied automatically.
“Karen!” Colin snapped from behind.
“No, really—how old?” Sharon asked.
Karen looked over at Billy as if for support. Billy gave a nod.
“Fifteen,” Karen said.
“I don’t see the harm in one glass,” Colin said.
“Thank you, Mr. Lee,” Karen replied, holding her cup out.
“Call me Colin. We’re not in school anymore.”
“Ma, can I have a drink too?” Melissa asked excitedly.
“You’re much younger, honey. I don’t think so,” Liz said.
“Oh, ma!” Melissa said, folding her arms and scowling.
“You wouldn’t like it anyway,” Liz added.
“Would you allow a buckfizz?” Billy asked, waving a carton of orange juice.
“A what?” Melissa said.
“Well, I...” Liz smiled at her daughter. “Okay then.”
“What is it?” Melissa said curiously.
Billy filled a third of a cup with champagne and topped it off with orange juice.
“Would you mind if I had one, too?” Karen asked, holding out her cup.
“Champagne too strong for a hardened drinker like you?” Billy joked.
“No, it just doesn’t taste all that nice,” Karen admitted.
“What about you, ma’am?” Billy said, making a bow to Liz.
“You know, I think I will,” Liz said.
“Straight up or with a mixer?”
“Straight up, I think.”
John passed Liza blue mug with the Superman logo emblazed on the body. She accepted it by the handle and gave him a “Thank you” before taking a greedy mouthful. She closed her eyes and took a long breath of air through her nostrils, allowing the champagne to sit in her mouth and the bubbles tickle her tongue. With her eyes still closed, she tilted her head back and swallowed.
“Who’s not had a drink yet?” Sharon asked. She went on point and tried to scan the room. The camp lanterns brought welcome islands of light to the gloomy canteen, but their glow only held back the darkness for a few metres. She spotted the security guard at the back of the room. “Mo, you don’t have a glass.”
“No, I’m okay, Sharon. Thank you,” Mo replied shyly.
“Oh, go one, Mo,” Sharon cajoled. “Once it’s gone, I don’t know when we’ll taste more.”
“No, honestly, I’m fine,” Mo said.
“He doesn’t drink,” John interjected.
“You don’t drink?” Sharon asked.
“No,” Mo said with a weak smile.
“Are you sure?”
“Quite. Thank you,” Mo replied.
“Well, more for the rest of us,” Sharon said, turning round to pick up a bottle. She studied the three on the desk. “Where’s the fourth one?”
“I don’t know,” John answered.
He looked around the canteen to see if he could spot where it had gone, then noticed Thomas, Magda, and Alex making for the door. He nudged Sharon.
“What?” Sharon asked.
John pointed at Magda’s distinctive yellow and red football top as it disappeared through the doorway.
Sharon snorted out a “tisk” and shook her head.
“Should we say something to them?” John asked.
“No, John, it’s fine; a bottle between three seems fair,” she replied. “In fact, since Mo isn’t drinking, I think we got the better part of the deal.”
Thursday
Chapter 14
Haul
Colin woke up. His mouth was dry and his head still throbbed. The coat he’d been using as a sheet was bunched up around his feet. He sat up and stretched out. His neck and shoulders were hard and inflexible. He put a hand on the nape of his neck and rubbed it, feeling the muscle taut and unyielding.
Whiplash, he reminded himself.
Bleary-eyed, he tiptoed over to the water cooler and was halfway there before noticing the office was empty. No one else was on the floor. The sun was up, but it was impossible to tell what time of day it was due to the soot-laden clouds. The sunlight was defused through the smog, giving no clue to its position in the sky.
Colin poured himself a cup of water and drank it greedily. Out of habit he started to scrunch the cup, but then stopped.
“Don’t have an infinite supply of these, now do we?” he said to the white plastic cup.
He gently set it down on top of the water cooler for later.
Wind was groaning down the avenue outside. Colin could hear it even through the closed windows. He hobbled over to take a look for signs of how hard the wind was blowing—flags flapping, trees swaying—anything to give him a clue to the ferocity. The wind could herald a break in the weath
er. The last few days had been hot and sticky. A rainstorm might cool things down a little and wash some of the stench from the air.
He stood propped up against the windowsill and looked out. What he saw outside shocked him. The sound wasn’t the wind—the sound was the collective moans of the hundreds of zombies in the street.
Colin pressed his hands against the cold glass and stared at the scene, transfixed. Randomly wandering down the street were dozens of shambling corpses, but most worrying of all was the moat of undead at the front of the building. The knot of ghouls was especially populated around the access to the office. There had to be at least a hundred creatures packed around the lobby’s entrance. The creatures seemed intent on jostling around the front of the building. Most were pale and wan, but a few bunched together almost directly beneath him had what looked like blood-caked faces. The rusty brown tint made them look almost alive, like they had haphazardly applied fake tan. But their harsh, jerky movements gave their true nature away.
One of the creatures looked up at random. It locked eyes with Colin for a second until a rag of yellow and red cloth being waved about by a nearby zombie caught it’s attention. Colin didn’t think the creature had spotted him behind its clouded retina, but he realised he’d held his breath all the same.
The white, milky eyes showed no intelligence, no mote of humanity.
“Strzyga,” Colin said, mesmerised by the creatures.
He stood back from the window. Shaking himself free off his morbid curiosity, he decided to find the others.
Fighting against the lethargy of his muscles, Colin made his way down to the canteen. He could smell the coffee and hear the boisterous chatter well before he opened the door.
“Morning,” Billy saluted.
“What’s all this?” Colin asked, inspecting the chaos.
Many of the tables had been pushed to the walls to form a counter. In the space created by their move, there was the haul from the school, food on one side, camping kit on the other.
“You want a coffee?” Billy asked. “We found the good stuff. It’s instant, but it’s better than the stuff in the vending machines.”
“Since no one turned up for this morning’s nine a.m. meeting, I decided it would be best to inventory everything,” Sharon said.
“I’d love a coffee. And some painkillers if you’ve found any yet,” Colin replied, ignoring Sharon.
“No can help on the painkillers,” Billy said. “How do you want your coffee though?”
“Milk and sugar,” Colin replied.
“It’s powdered; make any odds to you?” Billy asked.
Colin tried to nod his head, but his neck wasn’t up for moving. “That’s fine.”
Karen, Liz, and Melissa were sitting on the floor going through the supplies. The little brown and white dog lay on its side, receiving an occasional ear scratching from Melissa beside her. Standing over them were Sharon and John, who from what Colin could surmise were sorting and cataloguing the finds. On the tables were large, multi-coloured packing crates with interlocking lids.
Scanning the loose camping equipment, Colin looked for the first aid pack.
“Anyone seen a first aid bag?” he asked.
“Yeah,” John answered. “It’s in that crate there. Why?”
Colin walked to the crate and peeled open the lid. Inside was an assortment of camping supplies liberated from the school. He pulled out the pack, flipped the flaps that formed the lid back in place and sat the pack down on top. Unzipping it, he started to rummage around inside.
“What are you doing?” John demanded.
Colin ignored him and continued his search.
John stepped closer and asked again, “What are you doing?”
Colin let out a huff of disappointment and just managed to stop himself from swearing in front of the little girl.
“Hey, what are you doing?” John asked angrily.
“Looking for painkillers, if you must know,” Colin said.
“You just can’t take stuff; I’m cataloguing it,” John replied.
“Are you for real? This is my first aid kit, and as it is, there aren’t any aspirin in it anyway."
“Isn’t there aspirin in the first aid down here?” Billy asked.
“No, you're not allowed to have painkillers in a first aid kit,” Sharon answered.
“What?” Billy said.
“It’s to do with allergies and doses,” Sharon explained. “You might cause more harm than good and you know how litigious things are these days.”
“Yeah, but I packed this myself and put a packet of aspirin in here,” Colin said. “Do you know how much of a headache it is looking after a dozen stroppy teens?”
“I think I have some in my drawer upstairs,” Sharon offered.
“Bloody Woods has been in here and whipped them out, I bet you,” Colin cursed.
Karen blurted, “Wanker Woods?”
“What now?” Liz asked.
“Oh, the head teacher,” Colin said. “He was worried about the insurance for the trip. He went through my risk assessment like I was planning to blast the kids to the moon in a space capsule with a pride of hungry lions. I bet he’s removed them from the pack. I knew I should have kept them on me.”
“Here you go,” Billy said, handing Colin a coffee.
“Thanks,” Colin said, accepting the hot beverage.
“Well, you shouldn’t just be taking things,” John said. “We only have a limited supply.”
Colin slugged back a gulp of coffee and held up two fingers to John.
“Did you see that?” John said indignantly.
“No one gives a shit, John,” Billy said.
“So what’s going on here?” Colin asked.
John’s face was still in a scowl as he explained, “Isn’t it obvious we’re—”
“I wasn’t asking you,” Colin said.
“We’re sorting out the supplies from the school,” Billy replied. “The stuff was all messed up after both you and the supplies were just chucked in.”
“Look, have you seen out the front?” Colin asked.
“Yeah,” Billy replied. “I think we led them here yesterday. Pied Piper-style, buddy.”
“What are we going to do about it?” Colin asked.
“Not much we can do about it,” John sneered.
“Well, I know we can’t go outside and clear them out, but remember there’s a cracked glass panel in the foyer,” Colin pointed out. “The pressure on it is just going to keep building.”
“Now that we have the guns, can’t we just thin them out?” Sharon asked.
“We’ve scavenged maybe a couple hundred rounds,” Billy said. “Even if every shot puts one down, it’s not going to make a dent in their numbers.”
“Rounds?” Colin said, confused.
The canteen door opened and Mo strolled in.
“Where have you been?” John asked in an accusing tone.
“Me?” Mo asked, surprised. “Well, um, I’ve just been up on the third floor.”
“Doing what?” John asked.
“Doing his rounds, John—what do you think?” Colin said.
“Yeah, my rounds. That’s what,” Mo said.
“Like I was saying, and I’m sure Mo will agree with me here,” Colin began, turning to bring Mo into the conversation on his side, “that cracked sheet of glass is just going to get more and more pressure put on it until it shatters.”
“Yeah, sure,” Mo said with a nod.
“What do we do then?” Colin asked.
“We can lock the doors to the stairwells,” Mo offered.
“Will that be enough?”
“What you doing dogging it in here, Billy?” Thomas said, entering with an armful of rifles.
“Where did they come from?” Colin asked.
“Oh, sorry, Thomas. Colin here has been talking about barricading ourselves in,” Billy explained.
“And that’s an excuse to let me do all the work?” Thomas asked.
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“The guns,” Colin said. “Where did you get the guns?”
“Oh, that’s right—you were in cloud cuckoo land in the back of the car,” Billy recalled. “We stumbled on a crashed army truck. Grabbed all the stuff we could.”
“I wanted to grab the fifty-cal, but Billy wouldn’t let me,” Thomas said.
“A what now?” Colin asked.
“The heavy machine gun up top,” Billy explained.
“I could have had that off in minutes using the tools from the garage,” Thomas said.
“You didn’t sound so confident at the time,” Billy replied. “Besides, what the fuck would we do with it?”
“We could have wasted a good few of the fuckers outside,” Thomas answered.
“You wouldn’t have made a dent in them before you ran out of ammo,” Billy said. “And anyway, no one here has got the faintest idea how to fire one of those things.”
“I’ve fired a gun before,” Thomas protested.
Billy shook his head. “Yeah, sure. We’re not talking about Laser Quest here—these are pieces of military hardware.”
“I do,” said a soft voice.
Everyone turned to look at Liz as she sorted out tins on the floor.
“I’ve fired assault rifles before,” she said, this time more confidently.
“You know how to use a machine gun?” Colin asked.
“I’ve fired those before—a while ago, I grant you,” Liz said.
“When was that?” Melissa asked, learning yet another new thing about her mother.
“I was in the Cadets at school,” Liz explained.
“So are you some kind of mad special forces gun nut then?” Billy asked.
Liz shook her head. “No, I haven’t done anything like that since I left school.”
“Reckon you still know your way around these things?” Billy asked.
“I’m sure it’ll come back to me,” Liz said.
“Good. Then we’ll get you to show us how to use them,” Colin said.
Liz nodded. “Okay.”
“Where do you want them? They weigh a ton,” Thomas complained.
“Down there for now,” Sharon directed. “And maybe after lunch Liz could show us all how to use them.”
Thomas dumped the rifles down with an ugly clatter.
Demise of the Living Page 20
