Dead Beat

by Remy Porter

  ‘I hope you’re right,’ Howard said. Later, when they’d settled into the campervan to sleep he went outside to pee. He shivered with the cold and gazed up at the rustling leaves in the canopy above. In the black, impenetrable woods, he heard twigs creak and snap. Howard wished only animals roamed in the night. Nowhere felt safe anymore.

  ‘How much further do you think?’ he said looking at the empty fuel gauge.

  ‘One or two miles. No more than that.’ Tehgan frowned, twisting the map round in her hands.

  Up ahead, Howard saw the road finally leave the shaded forests and move into open fields and farmland. There was a man trapped on a barbed wire fence with the skin peeling off his body like a burnt baked potato. Howard thought that he must have been set on fire recently. The man struggled more as they passed, reaching out his arms. A silent rage on his putrid lips.

  ‘What the hell is that?’ Jinny said.

  ‘Fence of some kind,’ Howard replied, stating the obvious. They looked at the high steel fence that seemed to stretch for miles.

  ‘Fucking yes!’ Tehgan shouted.

  Howard was so busy looking at the fence he almost ran into the man waving at him from next to a quad bike. He looked like a thoroughbred countryman in his green waterproofs and jacket. Howard stopped the van level and could see the man had been working at the engine under the lifted seat. There was a shotgun resting next to his leg.

  ‘Hello folks,’ he said cheerily.

  ‘Hello yourself,’ Howard replied, trying to stop himself staring at the man’s off-centre eyes. ‘I’m Howard, and this is Tehgan and Jinny’s in the back.’

  ‘Griffin,’ the man said. ‘Just giving the fuel lead a tweak on this machine here. Great to see some more people. I dare say they’ll be plenty of people in the village just dying to hear how things are in the world out there.’

  ‘So there are a lot of survivors in the village then?’ Jinny asked.

  ‘A fair few. Not everyone made it you understand, but there’s a healthy fifty plus people inside that fence.’

  ‘Great idea by the way.’

  ‘Well thank you ... Howard. Why don’t you follow me now and I’ll show you the best way in,’ he said and started up the quad bike, throwing his tools back onto the holdall on the back.

  ‘What do you think?’ Tehgan said to the others. ‘You think we can trust crazy eyes?’

  ‘Come on sis, he may look a bit odd but this is our chance to be safe. You really want to go back to that church?’

  ‘So what’s it going to be?’ Howard said across to Tehgan. Griffin had started beckoning them to follow.

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Let’s do this. The country life here we come!’

  Griffin led the van off the road and onto a grassy track and a gap in a dry stone wall. Gradually they went deeper into a copse of trees near the fence line. The trail undulated in and out of trees, before dipping down into a small clearing surrounded by brambles and ferns. Howard looked over at the fence they had followed but couldn’t see any opening or gate. Griffin stopped and was walking back towards them. He was motioning Howard to turn off his engine.

  ‘What’s up?’ he said leaning out of the window. Griffin was looking a little colder now.

  ‘There’s still something wrong with my quad bike. I need a bump start. Will you come over and help me?’

  ‘I’m not sure I want to,’ Howard mumbled. Something felt wrong, he was sure.

  ‘Come on Howard, the guy’s trying to help us here. Don’t be a pain,’ Tehgan weighed in.

  ‘I just don’t want to.’

  Griffin opened the driver door and gave him a crooked smile. ‘Come on. Girl’s calling you a wuss now. Can’t have that can we?’

  Howard got out. This man just felt all wrong to him. He followed him over to the quad bike.

  ‘Just put your hands on the back and push, okay?’

  Howard put his hands on the back, feeling the chipped metal under his fingers. Griffin mounted the bike and Howard pushed, digging his trainers into the soft earth for purchase. The quad bike roared to life and Howard felt a wave of relief. Griffin stepped off again and gave him a hug before walking back towards the campervan. Howard went to follow but suddenly he started to cough and couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. A dull ache spread over his side and looking down he saw a dark stain. His legs gave way and he was on his knees.

  He tried to wave a warning to the girls but his arms wouldn’t obey him. As the light started to fade from his eyes, he saw Tehgan’s neck cut wide open and Jinny’s kicking heels being dragged away into the trees. Howard thought she was screaming but then the world went inky black.

  CHAPTER 18

  It was three months down the line and the fence was finished. Summer and I could see it from the upstairs windows of the police station, cutting through the fields ahead of Haven. The village would be safe after all. It felt like the farmers and villagers had done something amazing.

  ‘So what do you want to do today,’ I asked and kissed her cherry cheek. Summer blushed so easily.

  ‘Sex and breakfast, and then sex?’ she said giggling.

  The police station was our home now and the inspector’s office had a double bed filling most of the space. If he were alive, I would have loved to see the expression on his face.

  Summer and I were a couple. The fence had made us feel like we had some kind of future in a world where the dead waited around every corner to bite and devour.

  Later that day we left Lester to his curious experiments and Bill and Arthur to their SKUL work. Those two loved getting their hands dirty, and had an incorrigible enthusiasm for the house clearances. They killed zombies and they killed them well.

  I drove out of the station car park and steered towards the beach. No more dead people stumbled over the fields anymore, or lurched in front of my car trying to make me crash. The fence line stretched for over three miles and cocooned the village and many square miles of farmland. We lived in a bubble of England. The walking dead could have everywhere else; we just wanted the space to live our lives.

  I chose a different part of the beach to drive to this time, half a mile away from White Creek. I moved the Freelander onto a track made up of two concrete strips in the dirt. The route took us through an abandoned caravan park. The static caravans looked old fashioned and were becoming discoloured by green mosses and lichens. I made a mental note to send in the boys down here for a look-see. You never knew if there would be a lurker or two concealed behind the net curtains in those boxes. I certainly wasn’t in the mood for checking today.

  Through gaps in the trees, I could see the white shingle pebbles of the beach. Finding the opening, I forced the 4x4 through. We were there. Nothing but cliffs and sand.

  ‘God, it’s beautiful,’ Summer said.

  I followed her gaze; the unnamed bay was shaped like a curve of sloping shingle that led down onto marshy rock pools and the sandy estuary floor beyond. The tide was out and the expanse stretched out for miles across the bay, treacherous due to the quicksands.

  In each year I had been a police officer in Haven there had been a death. Usually it was some fool who felt he could cross the bay without help or aid from a trained guide. The sands in the middle would hold feet and then legs in a steel embrace, but it was the tide herself who would deliver the coup de grâce. The fast moving tide would sweep over the poor soul like a miniature tidal wave.

  ‘It’s peaceful now the zombies have gone,’ I said to her.

  ‘But Johnny they haven’t gone anywhere. I’ve seen them starting to gather against parts of the fence, more every day. They’re starting to really scare me.’

  ‘We’ll just get those farmers to run them over in their combine harvesters every month. Re-cycle them into fertiliser or something.’

  ‘Ew. Gross, Johnny,’ she laughed. ‘Come on let’s walk.’

  We crunched down the shingle banking and onto the beach, looking at the rock pools. It was a beachcomber’s paradise do
wn there, assorted treasures mixing in with dark seaweed and crab shells. In the pools, I spotted tiny fish the size of tadpoles, trapped like us in their own little bubble.

  We walked around the ragged cliff headland and into the next cove. There on the next beach was a large boat, washed ashore over the last few days since our last visit.

  ‘Come on; let’s take a look at this.’

  ‘Are you sure, Johnny?’

  We approached it and read the name ‘WABBA’ on the side. Summer said it was the name of a small furry creature, but I didn’t believe her. The shiny blue hull looked intact and the twin outboard engines were impressively robust and powerful. I could see footholds on the back to climb aboard.

  ‘You’re not going up there, are you?’ she said.

  I banged my fist in the hull and a dull noise echoed out.

  ‘I don’t think anyone’s home.’

  ‘Well, I’m not letting you go in there alone,’ she answered.

  I started to climb and wobbled with each step. In the bow of the boat, I looked across at the semi-covered cockpit. It appeared remarkably free of the stain and stench of human remains that usually marked everywhere we went these days.

  ‘What do you think?’ I whispered.

  ‘I think it looks like we have ourselves a boat to play with.’

  I edged up to the plywood door next to the main control panel. Pushing it with one hand, I watched it split down the middle and open like a saloon bar door. The air got suddenly very musty and there was unmistakable waft of decay. Spoke too soon, I thought.

  ‘Wait here.’

  ‘No.’

  We went down the three steps into the galley of the boat. The room was dim, illuminated only by a short row of round portholes. The kitchen appeared well stocked, with half-sized stainless steel pots and pans that I imagined were unique to boats.

  Summer had the hatchet out again, and the mean far away look in her eyes. I pulled at the nearest door and it concertina-ed to one side. In the gloom, I could make out a single cot bed.

  ‘Empty,’ I breathed.

  The next door was opened by Summer. Inside was a compact toilet. I looked in the bowl and it appeared dried up. One door remained, double sized and at the stern of the boat. We ducked our heads because of the low ceiling and reached out for the handle. The smell was getting rank. I nodded once to Summer and pulled both sides of the door open.

  The body was curled into a foetal position at the base of the double bed. The man’s skin looked parched and shrivelled, and it was clear that his bodily fluids had semi-evacuated at some point and congealed his remains to the floor like super glue. One blessing was that the guy was fully dead.

  ‘Looks like the captain didn’t make it,’ I said.

  ‘Let’s chuck him onto the beach.’

  We rolled him up in the bedding the best we could and wrestled him out of the door. The brown stains had soaked all the way through the mattress, so after we had thrown him on the shingle the bed followed next.

  As dusk started to set in, we watched the orange flames dance and rise into the sky. The captain fizzled and spat as the fire took away his diseased flesh.

  ‘It’s beautiful out here,’ Summer said.

  We sat on the shingle with out legs nudged together for warmth, looking out over the expanse of incoming water. Far out to sea I could just make out a red light on the horizon.

  ‘I wonder ...’

  CHAPTER 19

  The lights strung up in the trees made the farmyard look like Christmas. Soft reggae hummed across the fields as people milled around and talked. Griffin stood behind an industrial sized BBQ doling out lamb and gammon steaks fresh off the grill. Behind him, on the wall, was a poster that read, ‘Celebrating the fence, celebrating life.’

  Mark looked at his younger brother and said, ‘Dude’s definitely not all there. Just look at him. Fucker would pop you on that grill if he had half a chance and turn you into a Macdonald’s burger.’

  ‘No, he wouldn’t,’ Phillip answered. ‘Just ’cos you’re eleven years old doesn’t mean you know everything.’ Deep down, Phillip believed him one hundred percent. He didn’t even like to look at Griffin and that crazy eye.

  They saw their parents beckon them over and they started to weave their way through the sea of people. It seemed funny to Mark that everyone who lived in the village lived here now. The farmhouse was over-crowded, and he hated sharing his room with his parents. He wanted his own room, or at least one to share with Phillip. So unfair. He hoped they would move back into their own house now the fence was finished and the dead people were far away.

  ‘Have you boys eaten?’ Mrs Hanson said to them.

  ‘We ate earlier and we’re not really hungry. Griffin’s food is shit anyway,’ Mark said.

  ‘No it’s not, the lamb is lovely,’ Mr Hanson whispered, looking if anybody else had overheard. ‘You shouldn’t say things like that.’

  Mark thought everyone looked really tired, some of them sick almost. Nobody seemed to want to play or have any fun at this party. Everyone had worked all the time on the stupid fence, well everyone but the policeman and his friends. They stayed away and did their own thing. He told his Dad loads of times that they should go and stay with them, but he never wanted to listen. He was glad the fence was finished, he thought, he hoped things would get back to normal now.

  A man he knew called Bob Sack came across and started talking to his father. Mark didn’t like him either, because he was always sucking up to Jack and Griffin. He thought they must only like him because he was always fixing things around the farm, and up at the windmills that made the electricity. Fucking brown nose!

  ‘Mum, can we go and play?’ Mark said.

  ‘I don’t know, it’s getting dark now,’ Jean Hanson said.

  ‘They’ll be alright. The fence is up and we have no zombies in here anymore. Here’s to the fence!’ Bob blurted. People around him cheered and raised their glasses as well.

  ‘Okay, boys, just don’t leave the farm grounds. No going too far okay?’ Toby Hanson said to Mark and Phillip. Mark thought he must be drunk because his nose looked red.

  ‘Okay, we won’t,’ Mark replied. ‘Come on Phillip, let’s get out of here.’

  They ran past the old barn and headed to the gate behind. He knew the barn was off limits so they didn’t linger. It smelled really bad; worse than usual. Mark swore that they’d sneak a look inside one day.

  He swung the gate open for his brother, and they were on the track that led to the woods.

  ‘I’ve got my torch,’ Phillip panted, and ran to catch up.

  Their feet crunched over the frosty path that led to the edge of the woods. At the end, they had to step over a stile that took them over a stone wall and into the trees. Under the shadow of willows and oaks, it felt to Mark like all the light was suddenly sucked away. Mark stood there silent with Phillip listening. Finally, he said, ‘Flick the switch.’

  The weak light from the torch lit the trail they walked on. Shiny, slippery limestone poked through everywhere among the loose stones and tree roots, making them both concentrate to keep from stumbling over. The path twisted and contorted the deeper they went into the woods.

  ‘It’s so dark, Mark. Are you sure this can’t wait until tomorrow?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I can see where the path forks. We’re nearly there.’

  They brushed the over-grown branches and leaves out of their faces, while Mark stared at the ground making sure they didn’t lose the path. Out of sight in the dark foliage they heard creatures rustle in the bushes, and above them in a tree an owl hooted. The sound drew their eyes up and through the patchwork canopy of trees they could just make out the faint glow of the moon, peering down like a rheumy eye.

  ‘Did you hear that?’ Phillip hissed.

  Mark could hear the moaning as well, the sound that was always there like a constant hum behind the fence. The noise the dead people made as they reached out their hands and barged for positi
on behind the fence. Mark hated the way they looked and how they ruined the air so you didn’t even want to breathe it in. He also hated when he recognised somebody in the crowd, like the black, eaten face of his old school friend Tim he had seen scrawling along the fence like some rotten slug. That had made him cry to his Mum, then bad dreams ever since.

  This sound was different, out there in the black woods was just one dead voice, throwing out its awful howl.

  ‘We should get back,’ Phillip said. ‘Mum and Dad will be getting so worried. It sounds like there’s more one there now.’

  ‘Come on.’

  They ducked under a particularly thick branch and suddenly found themselves in a clearing. Mark quickly flashed the torch around to make sure they were in the right place. They were.

  The sound again, the hungry wail that speeded down their spine and made their skin shiver.

  ‘I’m scared, Mark.’

  ‘We’ll be okay, we’ve got the fence remember. There can’t be anymore of those things in here.’

  Mark guided them into the middle of the clearing and shakily started to move the torch beam from tree to tree. Finally, he picked out the man they had come looking for.

  ‘Is he making that sound?’ Phillip said as the throaty, gargling mew came again.

  Mark edged a little closer. They were approaching the man from the side and the man’s face turned away. Mark brought the torch up and shone at the creature’s upper body. Mark could see the dark globs of black dotted around its collar, like a necklace of dried blood. Jowls of fat around his neck hung bloated in purple with decay. He had bulbous eyes as if they wanted to pop out of his face. The man was staring right at them.

  ‘I want to go,’ Phillip whispered.

  ‘Not yet.’

  Mark walked closer to the man who made ugly noises and trashed his head like he was having some fit. Mark stood a foot away, the ripe stench tearing at his nostrils and making him gag. Lowering the torch beam, he could see the rope had ripped a raw trail through the man’s wrists and ankles, the binds a dark rouge in colour. The body was tied to the tree and helpless.