‘If any of you know how to ride, you can take the other bike,’ said Soph.
‘I do,’ said Sean and he climbed onto it.
‘And I’ll take this,’ said Kay, sliding her axe through her belt and taking the chainsaw from Charlotte before sliding onto the back of the bike behind Sean.
‘There are keys in that car, if you want to take that,’ Chris said to me, Misfit, Clay and Charlotte while pointing at a black Renault Clio.
‘Shit … Flick and Sara,’ I said, remembering they were still down the Warren. ‘Charlotte, Clay, you squeeze into the other car. Me and Misfit will go and get Flick and Sara, then we’ll meet you all at Sainsbury’s.’
‘OK,’ Charlotte said with a nod and a squeeze of my forearm.
‘We’ll see you two there shortly. Take care,’ said Soph and she started the bike’s engine.
Shane climbed out of the van, while Sam started the engine. Shane opened the gate and zombies flooded in. He hit one over the head with his crowbar, shoved another out of the way and dived for the van’s open door, while Sam moved the vehicle forwards into the zombies. He picked up speed as Shane climbed inside and slammed the door, and the van began flattening zombie bodies, clearing the way for the bikes. Chris and Kay reduced any remaining zombies to mush with their chainsaws from their positions on the back of the bikes, while me and Misfit darted for the Renault, snowflakes, now large and heavy, hitting my face as I climbed in.
Misfit drove over zombie bodies and zombie mush and with nothing left standing for us to hit, he skidded out of the car park and towards the Warren. Snow fell heavily from the pale grey sky making visibility difficult. A few centimetres had settled on the ground but not enough to cause Misfit any problems on the road.
Down the Warren, we drove as far as we could on the bumpy track, but eventually we came to a large metal gate across it, cutting us off and preventing us from travelling any further by car. Misfit stopped the car and we both climbed out. The snow had already laid thick enough so I left footprints as I darted through the small gap beside the gate for pedestrians to pass through. Large snowflakes pelted my face, stinging my skin. My stomach turned at the thought of what we might find at Flick’s shack. I hoped that Marco had been unaware of her and Sara’s existence. But if he had been aware of us, he might have discovered them too.
I shoved the thought from my mind and concentrated on negotiating the uneven and slippery track as we headed down towards the beach. The tide was out and snow had begun to settle on the shingles below the promenade. The inner part of the promenade had no snow on it where the steep cliff sheltered it, but about two or three inches had settled on the outer edge. We ran along the sheltered inside, on the wet concrete, until we came out onto the wide promenade outside Flick’s shack.
Always aware that you should never sneak up on a woman with a shotgun, I called out Flick’s name as me and Misfit climbed the steps. I saw her face appear at the window and relief flowed through me like water through a freshly bled radiator. She disappeared from sight and a moment later, just as me and Misfit reached the top of the steps, Flick opened the door. ‘What are you two doing here in this weather?’ she asked. I stood in front of the door, my mouth open wondering where the fuck to begin. ‘Come inside, out of that blizzard,’ she added.
‘No,’ I said. ‘We have to go.’
‘What? Who? Go where?’
‘You and Sara have to come with us now,’ I said. ‘Marco, he sent the HZs. They attacked our camp and … Stewart … we had to …’
‘They followed us to St Andrews and the place is wrecked. We got almost everyone out but we came back here for you and Sara,’ added Misfit.
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Flick, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘But we’ll be OK here.’
‘We’re not leaving without you,’ I said.
‘Where are you going?’
‘We’re meeting up at the Sainsbury’s by the motorway to stock up on supplies, then the St Andrews lot are heading out of town and the rest of us are going to find somewhere to hide out,’ I said.
‘Then?’
‘I don’t know right now,’ I snapped. ‘I can’t think beyond getting you and Sara out of here.’
‘We’re OK,’ said Flick.
‘You’re exposed and vulnerable while Marco and the HZs are still on the loose,’ I said.
‘We’re wasting time,’ said Misfit, looking down the steps towards the promenade where the snow lay thicker and thicker.
‘Flick, grab what you need and let’s get out of here!’ I said.
‘This is crazy,’ said Flick. ‘They’re not likely to come back now they’ve driven you out of your camp.’
‘I’m not taking that chance,’ I said. ‘Please, just for now. And you can come back once we’ve dealt with Marco and the HZs. You haven’t seen what they’re capable of, Flick.’
‘OK. OK, I’ll get Sara.’
We didn’t even have a chance to follow her inside to shelter from the snow before she appeared at the door with her gun in one hand and leading Sara with the other. Sara followed obediently. We had to walk, what with Sara being unable to run, but I noticed she was able to keep to a faster pace than I would have expected from a zombie.
As we stumbled up the track to the car, I noticed something, something that made my heart stop and kick off double time – I noticed my breath came out in little clouds of smoke before me in the cold air, as did Misfit’s and Flick’s as we all panted with the effort of walking up a steep hill in the thickening snow. Nothing unusual in that. But what caught my attention was, so did Sara’s breath, though the clouds were fainter than ours. Sara – dead Zombie-Sara – was breathing.
The snow showed no signs of easing up and by the time we reached the car, a good four or five inches had settled on the ground. Flick helped Sara, who didn’t resist, into the back, and then took the seat next to her. Misfit climbed into the driver’s side and I sat in the passenger seat. Misfit started the car, reversed and turned the vehicle with an ease I wouldn’t have expected in the snowy conditions and heavily potholed track. Visibility was poor and Misfit drove cautiously over the snow.
About halfway up the steep hill out of the Warren, the car began to run into difficulty, sliding backwards. Misfit tried going up a gear but the car got stuck on a patch of ice, probably caused by the snow being compacted underneath from when we came down earlier. The wheels span but we were going nowhere.
Misfit stopped the car and we all climbed out, our feet crunching on the thick snow. ‘On foot, then,’ he said.
‘We only need to go on foot as far as our camp and we can get our car,’ I said.
‘Good thinking,’ said Misfit.
It wasn’t the most fun I’d ever had, trekking up a steep hill in the snow with two humans and a healing zombie, but it wasn’t the worst situation I’d ever found myself in either. Not by a long way. By the time we reached the entrance to the camp my Converse were soaked while my red, stiff fingers and toes burned painfully. Despite this, sweat trickled between my shoulder blades.
‘Wait by the car, I’ll grab the keys,’ I said as I entered the camp ahead of the others. Before me I saw lumps beneath the fresh snow where it had settled over the fallen bodies of HZs and zombies. I couldn’t help trampling over them, unsure where the bodies ended and the ground began.
I heard a groan from my right. I span round, expecting to see a zombie lurching towards me through the snow. Instead I saw Stewart. He had been pinned to what remained of the door of the Martello tower by his own sword, the blade through his chest. The skin from his face had been removed and his lipless jaws snapped at the air, while his dead arms swiped in our direction. His white shirt had been torn at the shoulder, revealing the zombie bite that had infected him, and his throat had been cut; thick black blood oozed from both wounds. ‘Oh god,’ I said and gagged.
‘Don’t look, just go and get the keys,’ said Misfit as he drew up beside me. I obeyed neither of those commands and watched as h
e stalked closer to Zombie-Stewart, raised his knife and drove it into his head, right between the eyes. Stewart’s body sagged, still held up by the sword. Misfit pulled the blade from the wooden door with his right hand, catching the body under the arm with his left.
Misfit laid Stewart’s body on top of the snow, and crouched down beside him. He crossed Stewart’s arms across his chest and placed the hilt of his sword under his hands. The blade pointed down towards his feet, and the whole arrangement looked very much how I imagined a brave knight would be laid out after death. Once he was satisfied, Misfit turned to me and – sat on his haunches – said, ‘The keys, Sophie.’
‘Eh. Yeah. Yeah. I’m on it.’ I tore my eyes away from the sight of my dead friend and continued through the snow towards the main caravan, stumbling over bodies on the way.
As I neared the door, I saw a couple of zombies staggering about in the camp, their clumsy feet raking up the snow. One slipped over and rolled helplessly on the ground, trying to get up. The other one saw me and headed my way, but ran into an untrodden patch of snow and stumbled. These definitely weren’t Dead Snow style zombies. I couldn’t even be bothered to go and put the pathetic things out of their misery, and I carried on to the caravan.
I grabbed the keys to the Mazda from the kitchen worktop and, with my knife in my hand should the zombies have reached the caravan, I stepped outside. I needn’t have worried. The zombies were still sloshing about in the snow as graceful and as competent as a couple of overweight wrestlers in a paddling pool full of mud, and I ploughed back towards the others.
Flick had already got Sara into the car and she stood at the back by its boot, shotgun at the ready, waiting for me. As I passed the Martello tower, I couldn’t help but stop and glance at Stewart again. Snow had settled on his prone body. I blinked hard to keep the tears back.
‘Get in the car, Sophie,’ said Misfit as he stood by the driver’s side door. ‘You too, Flick.’ We did as Misfit asked and, without any of us looking back, Misfit started the engine and drove carefully from the camp.
Entry Twenty-Three
It took us longer than expected to get to Sainsbury’s, what with the snow making driving conditions difficult, so it was getting dark by the time Misfit pulled up in the car park. The van, a Vauxhall Vivaro, had been parked alongside the gap in the store’s window. Its side door sat in line with the missing pane of glass, and we opened the back doors in order to climb through it and into the store’s café. I was thankful for the two door set up, because the van would be going nowhere, what with the three feet of snow that had drifted up against it since it had arrived.
With the darkening sky outside making the interior of the café gloomy, I was relieved to see someone had left a small black torch for us on one of the tables. I picked it up, switched it on and held it out in front of me so its beam lit the way through to the store.
As we edged our way further in, I saw no movement or any sign of the others – other than the bodies of a few freshly killed zombies. We stood in the aisle at the bottom of the checkouts. To our right, we spotted another torch, this one with its beam on and we headed towards it. It had been placed on the ground beside a door that led off the shop floor and to a staff lift. Obviously, with no power, the lift wouldn’t take us anywhere, but someone had left a third torch, this one also with its beam on, by the stairwell to show us which way to go. With Flick guiding a placid Sara, we made our way up the steps.
At the top, I shone the torch’s beam around to see we stood in a small hallway, with men’s and women’s toilets to our right and some double doors in front of us, a long thin window in each. Light glowed from the other side of the glass and I could see a desk with a computer on it directly ahead of the doors. I switched off my torch, pushed open the left hand door and peered inside to see an office lit by torches and candles, giving a warm and cosy glow.
Jay, Cameron and Ella ran about with new toys from the store. Bags full of supplies sat in a heap under one of the desks. Blankets, cushions and pillows from the homeware department had been laid out on the floor as makeshift beds; some were occupied, others waited for little children to exhaust themselves. The remains of a meal – discarded paper plates, plastic forks, empty tins of beans, tinned potatoes and peas, canned ravioli and packets of crackers – lay on a dusty desk by the window.
I scanned the room but couldn’t see Charlotte, Kay, Sean, Clay or Soph amongst the people laying, sitting or milling about. Chris strode across the office and greeted us with a serious face and a, ‘You’re back.’
‘Yeah.’
‘We were worried. You’ve been ages. We thought you might have been caught out in the snow, or …’
‘Not with me driving,’ said Misfit with a half smile.
‘Well, we won’t be going anywhere for a day or two. Not in this weather,’ said Chris, biting a thumb nail.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said.
‘Can’t be helped. Everyone’s safety is the main priority.’ I saw Chris clench his jaws and pause for a moment. ‘We’ve set the place up for the night as best we can,’ he added.
‘Homely,’ said Misfit and he grabbed a packet of biscuits out of one of the carrier bags. He opened them and handed a couple of biscuits to me and to Flick. I suddenly worried what Sara would eat without a fresh meat supply.
‘Sara, how is she?’ asked Chris as if reading my thoughts.
‘She’s OK,’ said Flick. ‘But I would rather get her to a quieter space, if there’s another office.’ As if to drive the point home, Jay whizzed by with a Lego aeroplane held aloft.
‘Sure. Yeah,’ said Chris. ‘If you go through there,’ he pointed to his left, where a stud wall separated this part of the office with another section, ‘there’s a private office at the end. But …’
It hadn’t escaped my notice his face had been set to ‘grave’ mode, and his voice strained since we arrived. I had put it down to losing Max and Cleo, as well as St Andrews and the fact that the snow had trapped the rest of them in town. Now I feared there was more to it. ‘But what? What’s up?’ I asked.
Chris moved closer to me as though he didn’t want anyone other than me, Misfit and Flick to hear what he was about to say. ‘There were zombies in the store when we arrived,’ he began and my heart began to speed up. ‘Not many and not a problem for us. Or so we thought …’
‘What?’ I urged, more conscious than ever that none of my team were in here but in the section of the room that had been introduced with a ‘But’.
‘We thought we’d got them all,’ said Chris and he stopped and bit his lip as though holding tears back.
‘Just tell me,’ I said.
‘We missed one. It bit Elsie.’
I hate to admit it but relief flooded through me that Kay, Charlotte or Sean hadn’t been bitten. This was closely followed by a shock of sadness for Elsie, a sweet old dear, and a tinge of guilt that I’d rather it had been her than my friends. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said.
‘Sucks, man,’ said Misfit.
‘Oh bless her,’ said Flick. ‘Is she …?’
‘She’s still with us. Soph’s with her.’
‘She doesn’t want to be put down?’ asked Flick.
‘No, not yet. And Soph – Soph and Elsie are close. She’s like a gran to Soph. They want to spend her last moments together. Charlotte is comforting Soph, and Sean … he’s there in case Soph can’t do the … can’t … You know,’ said Chris.
‘Yeah. I know,’ I said.
‘Soph wants to do it but she doesn’t know if she can. Sean offered …’
‘How long does she have?’ asked Flick.
‘A few hours yet. But she’s old, she could go at any time. We don’t know.’
‘Oh crap,’ I said. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Yeah, three of my people in one day,’ said Chris.
‘One of ours,’ said Misfit, and the image of Stewart pinned to the door popped into my vision like a flyer from an overzealous leafleter. I scrunched it up an
d threw it away.
‘Marco is going to die slowly. I’ll make sure of it,’ I said.
‘Get in line,’ said Misfit.
On the other side of the stud wall, I found this section of the office was smaller than the front. Just like in the front office, candles and torches had been placed on tables and they lit the room with a warm glow. Elsie, a dressing attached to the creped skin of her left forearm, lay on a bed that had been set up in the far corner, beneath one of the windows. The bed had been made from a quilt underneath her and a blanket over her. She kept throwing the blanket off, moaning of being hot, then sitting up and growling at everyone present for trying to freeze her to death. Soph, who knelt on the floor beside Elsie, held her hand tightly. I saw silent tears on Soph’s cheeks. She had the tight expression of someone trying to hold their emotions in for the sake of others.
Sean, crowbar in hand, perched on the edge of a table, towering over Elsie like a bird of prey on a cliff top. His hand, the one that had been stabbed during the attack on our camp, had a fresh bandage on it, and I saw him flexing his fingers absent mindedly. Kay slumped on a chair at the same table, in front of a computer with a blank screen I doubted would ever ping back to life. She had a fresh dressing on her throat from where Anna had taken a chunk out of her.
Clay sat on a chair at the opposite end of the office, his head in his hands and his back to everyone else. He turned his head when he heard us enter the office. He stood, strutted over, and placed his hand on Misfit’s back. ‘Hey, glad to see you, man,’ he said in a hushed voice.
Charlotte sprang off the floor beside Soph. ‘We were getting worried about you guys,’ she said as I approached and she gave me a bear hug.
Sean tore his eyes off the dying old lady to give us a nod and, when Charlotte released me to squeeze the life from Misfit and Flick in turn, Kay said, ‘What … zombies, HZs and snow stop you lot? No chance. I wasn’t worried.’ She smiled and I smiled back. I glanced down at Elsie and my smile dried up like a river bed in drought season.
Blog of the Dead (Book 2): Life Page 18
