Dead Beat

by Remy Porter

  ‘Thank God we made this door. Fucker’s won’t get through this in a hurry,’ Griffin’s voice came out of the dark. From outside I heard many hands pounding on the metal. Touches were switched on and I realised that Lester wasn’t with us. Shot and left like a piece of meat in the barn, the thought made me sick with anger. It looked like Jefferson hadn’t made it inside either, lost in the melee.

  ‘Summer!’ I shouted. I wanted her still to be alive, the loneliness and grief tangible.

  ‘She’s upstairs, you’ll see her before you leave tonight,’ Jack whispered.

  The half-finished entrance hall smelt of plaster dust. Torch beams danced on the white walls and stairs as I was hustled upward. Bare wires and cables hung down unfinished, and I brushed them away from my faces as we climbed. Tools were everywhere, and I found myself looking for a useful weapon. Jack and Griffin were trailing behind me with their guns. At least I would go down fighting, not tortured in some sick fantasy.

  ‘One more floor,’ Sack said puffing, his face flushed with perspiration.

  Another zomb-proof door lay ahead. ‘This is the penthouse, Johnny. This is where you’re gonna die,’ Griffin spat in my face.

  The door swung back and revealed a huge apartment. The flick of a switch and spotlights illuminated everything. Unlike the rest of the building, this room appeared finished. Scenic artwork adorned the walls, and a set of sofas and chairs dominated the centre. One wall had a bar its entire length, with a neat row of optics lining the wall behind. The lounge area ran into an open plan kitchen, where expansive black granite worktops filled the space. No sign of the one person I wanted to see.

  ‘You out did yourself,’ I said to no one in particular.

  ‘And you’ve ruined it,’ Griffin shouted. ‘My dream place now has a thousand dead people camping in the back garden.’

  ‘I guess barbeques will be a bitch,’ I said with a smile, making my head hurt worse.

  ‘Yeah, laugh it up, Mr Policeman. Enjoy those last minutes on earth.’

  ‘Where’s Summer?’

  ‘You are like a cracked record, Officer,’ Jack said. ‘I’ll show you, shall I? Sack, bolt the door. I don’t want any more visitors.’

  The fat man obliged, and I was shoved towards the middle of three doors. Jack produced another key and my heart leapt a little. They were keeping something locked inside.

  ‘Take a look for yourself,’ Jack said and pushed me over the threshold. He flicked another light switch and I could see it was a bedroom. She was lying on her back and bound onto the bed. Summer wore nothing but torn underwear. Her mouth was gagged, just like the dead things in the barn. She thrashed at her binds as I rushed to help her. I looked down into face and wanted her to be alive. Her skin was milky-pale, but warm to the touch.

  ‘You’re alive,’ I said.

  ‘The things we did to her! All of us, Officer Johnny. Even Sack here had his fill, although he didn’t last long,’ Griffin told me.

  Their guns were raised; they were expecting my reaction. One step forward and their fingers wrapped tight on the triggers. One half step closer and the windows exploded. A body tumbled in, then another in quick succession. The guns turned away from me. Wild, panicked shots filled the air.

  I slammed the bedroom door closed on them and locked it. My hands worked on the ties and Summer was free. She pulled the gag away out of her mouth. ‘Missed you,’ she said.

  ‘We need to run,’ I pleaded, more shots ringing out. We went to the window and I pushed it up as far as it would go. The farmyard swarmed with the dead. The farmhouse to one side was over-run, body after body visible at every window.

  I could now see how the dead had reached the penthouse window too. The vast numbers of dead surging against the rotten frame of the barn had caused it to sag and collapse against the new building. The fallen walls provided a way to climb up towards the lights and smells of the penthouse. There must have been thirty bodies on the wall, the living like a beacon to them.

  ‘The roof is flat. We need to climb the gutters. Three feet and we’re there,’ I shouted back.

  ‘Sounds the plan for me,’ Summer answered me, pulling her clothes and shoes on.

  ‘Are you okay? The things they said ...’

  ‘Now is not the time, Johnny.’

  I went first, grabbing at the plastic gutter and my shoes slipping for purchase. I reached wildly for grip, and felt myself begin to fall. Instinctively, I grabbed higher, feeling the muscles in my ribs begin to tear. Finally, I had the top ledge and for a second dangled by just one hand, before I managed to pull myself up. Lying exhausted on the flat bitumen roof, the stars winked down at me from the cloudless night sky.

  ‘Summer,’ I shouted down. ‘It’s not that bad!’

  Reaching over for her, I braced myself the best I could. Fear was etched into her face as I pulled her towards me. To lose her now was no option at all. Kicking and scrambling, Summer joined me on the roof, our lips finding time to meet. ‘I thought you were gone,’ she said.

  Looking around I wondered where next? More shots below followed by a shout. They knew we were out of the room.

  ‘Block the roof access,’ I shouted to Summer, and she put a spade handle through the hatch leading to the roof. ‘It will slow them down at least.’

  ‘We need another way down. Something they wouldn’t expect,’ I said.

  ‘I know a way, although you won’t like it,’ she replied, taking me to the edge of the roof that faced the farmhouse. ‘We run and jump the gap. Once we get onto that roof, I know there’s a fire escape around the other side.’

  ‘You know, long jump was my thing at school,’ I said. The gap must have been ten metres, impossible on an even ground. We had height though, height to fall and make up the distance. ‘I’ll try first.’

  ‘No, let’s go together,’ she said, as loud thumping came from the roof hatch. The wooden shaft began to splinter. A blast and there was a hole. ‘Run!’

  We held hands and sprinted. The air rushed past my face as we dropped. The impact on the other side was harsh, slates and guttering sheering off all around us. I felt Summer slipping towards the edge, and I grabbed out for her. Bob Sack was on the flat roof and shouting for his shotgun.

  ‘We need to move. Now!’ I shouted to Summer. A shot rang out and three slates to one side of us exploded into splinters and dust. Fragments raked the skin of my cheek. I put one hand on the chimney pot and we slid to the other side. The fire escape was filled with bodies, their hands already reaching for us. The garden below was near empty of dead. We had a chance.

  ‘Fight or jump?’ I called to Summer.

  ‘Too far down,’ she said and kicked out. The lead body fell back onto the step metal steps, taking two more like dominoes. ‘Just keep kicking them.’

  We did, and side by side, fought our way half way down, jumping the rest.

  ‘Bravo,’ Griffin said stepping out of the shadows. ‘Aren’t you two ready to join the fucking circus.’

  We were on a raised piece of lawn, the scrubland behind us where Toby had been strung up and beaten. The bodies massed in the patio area below, straining to join us but balked by a simple metal gate.

  ‘Stupid fucks, aren’t they?’ Griffin went on, and gestured for us to move. He marched us up the trail to Toby’s tree, the darkness there almost liquid beneath the canopy of trees.

  ‘No rope for hanging. More’s the pity,’ Griffin said. ‘My old man would love this. But he’s too busy dealing with the mess you made.’

  He raised the shotgun. My hand reached out and found Summer’s. A black figure walked slowly up behind Griffin. In one smooth movement, he wrapped arms around Griffin and sank his teeth into Griffin’s neck. The shotgun barrel waved back and forth, discharging so close to us I felt the rush of pellets whizz by my face.

  ‘Help me.’

  We were running away. ‘It was Bill, I’m sure it was Bill,’ Summer shouted over. It was too dark to be sure. I tripped and fell every second str
ide as we went deeper into the woods.

  ‘Which way?’ I said. All around in the darkness I could hear stumbling, clumsy sounds. Bodies. Moving through the trees towards us. Finally, we had a path and ran faster. Around one corner an old woman lunged out, her cold hands touching mine. I pushed her away and we ran on. My heart jumped, the fear wanting to overwhelm me.

  Breaking out of the woods, we made a clearing, and beyond there was the beach and incoming tide. It had been Lester’s idea to attack the farm in the middle of the night. He had known when the tide would be high. I wished he was with us. The decline was steep, and we skidded and slid the last hundred feet down to the coastline. Pulling a metal lever on a steel gate, our feet finally crunched on the pebbles of the beach.

  ‘We made it,’ I said as we rounded the inlet to White Creek. Ahead was the yacht, sitting proud in the water, fifty feet off shore. ‘My fault we didn’t stash the canoe here too, there just wasn’t the time. I guess we have ourselves a little swim.’

  ‘Like I care about that. I love you, Johnny, don’t ever forget that, okay?’ Summer smiled.

  We stripped some of our clothing off and held it above our heads. It was an ungainly swim, but at least it kept some things dry.

  ‘Ow!’ Summer said. ‘Something touched me.’

  ‘Swim faster, we’re nearly there.’

  Pulling out of the water was harder than I’d imagined. My limbs were tired and I felt like the water just wanted to suck us down. I found the handrail and then a step. Summer was behind me, her wet body pressing against mine. We flopped onto the deck like two freshly caught flounders.

  ‘That was tougher than it looked,’ I mouthed.

  ‘I’ll bring you some dry clothes from below,’ Summer said.

  I lay there staring up at the night sky again, comfortable and yet drowsy with fatigue. To just fall asleep would have been bliss. The tendrils of cloud passing over the half-moon were almost hypnotic. Five minutes passed.

  ‘Summer, what are you doing?’ I stood, feeling the boat shift in the water with my weight. ‘We should cast off soon.’

  Ducking my head I went below, my eyes taking time to adjust to the new darkness. ‘Where are you Summer?’ I felt my way towards the main bedroom. The door slid back, two people in the room.

  ‘Nice of you to take the time to join us,’ Jefferson’s voice came out of the corner. He had a hunting knife to Summer’s throat. ‘One move, it’s her, then you, okay?’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I want to come with you, of course. The farm and the fence are gone. The village is finished. Summer tells me you want to go to that big oil rig out in the sea. It sounds like a damn good idea.’

  ‘Put the knife down,’ I said. ‘We’ve all been through too much today already. You can come; it’s no problem to us.’

  ‘How do I know I can trust you?’

  ‘I give you my word as a police officer. Just let Summer go.’

  The knife went down and she rushed forward. I felt her muscles tremble. ‘You are a bastard!’ she spat back at Jefferson.

  ‘I know,’ he replied, the knife still pointing at us. “Just remember, I always have this.’

  ‘We need to cast off, or we’ll lose this tide,’ I told him and turned us away. Back on deck, I pulled the drawstring on the outboard, and it started first time. Summer unhitched the buoy and we started to move away from the land. All three of us stood on the deck and watched the beach grow smaller. I counted five bodies on the shoreline, reaching out, watching us.

  ‘Creepy bastards,’ I muttered under my breath.

  CHAPTER 33

  Summer made an excuse, leaving Johnny and Jefferson on deck to unwrap the sails. She slipped into the cramped boat’s toilet, her head woozy and faint. Part of her wanted to believe the feelings were only fatigue, that the trauma of the past few days had caught up with her, that all she needed was a little TLC and bed rest. The other part knew the truth.

  Summer gazed at her petite hands, the nails she did her best to keep clipped and manicured. There was a palsy in them now, and the palms of her hands felt greasy. Her back felt hot and slippery with sweat, when there was no reason to be. Summer found the evidence at the bottom of her trouser leg, the tell-tale tear in material of her jeans. The material was tough, but had threaded and torn no more than a centimetre. She pulled the seam up and there it was, no more than a scratch, a break in her skin that meant only one thing. Thinking back she remembered the swim, how she had felt the nip on her leg. Now she knew, the tears filled up her eyes.

  ‘What’s wrong? What’s wrong,’ Johnny said to her as she went to him on deck. Her hands wrapped tight around him. She didn’t want to speak. But time was short, and she knew she would say everything.

  ‘I’m going to die, Johnny.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ he said when she showed him. ‘That’s nothing, nothing at all.’

  She watched his face, the beautiful face she had come to love. His look told her he knew, the hurt inside singing out through his eyes. He must feel the heat in her body, the furnace overload that came before the change. How many times had we all seen it happen, she wondered?

  ‘We haven’t got long now. Be careful not to kiss me.’

  ‘I know.’

  Summer felt herself guided back below, leaning more on him as her muscles did less. She caught an ugly look from Jefferson, the old man’s spite and disgust. It tore her up to think Johnny would be left alone in the world with this man.

  Laid down on the bed, she felt the quickening rise and fall of her breaths, her own body getting desperate for the oxygen to purge the sickness out.

  ‘Do you think it will hurt?’ she said.

  ‘Should I help at the end?’

  Summer didn’t know how to answer. Her mind felt full of blank spots, a nothingness stealing her best memories. She wanted to drift away remembering all the good times they had together, but the sickness denied her even that. Instead, she satisfied herself with the touch of his hand, the smile on his face. How she wished there was more time to have. Perhaps in the next life?

  ‘Come closer, you are too far away,’ she said. ‘You have to promise me.’

  Johnny craned near, his ear almost touching her mouth. Her voice was getting faint as her throat died up. These would be her last words, she would make them count. When she had finished, Johnny stood back up and nodded. He had that serious look that sometimes made her laugh. She had always called it the ‘two cogs at once’ look to wind him up.

  Johnny left the cabin door open and walked away. Summer heard voices, a discussion, a shout and a splash. Her eyes faded like a veil dropping down, her senses blinking out one by one. Would they come back later, she wondered?

  A voice out in the dark, ‘I love you.’ Summer tried to smile one last time.

  CHAPTER 34

  The last of the boxes piled on the metal gangway around my feet, I sat and watched the yacht float from the docking area. It made a slow pirouette and then drifted towards the horizon. Summer’s tomb would travel far away from here, to a better place, I decided. Tears dabbed on my sleeve, I began to carry the bags and boxes up the steel stairs to the next level.

  I had been extremely lucky to moor the boat in the docking bay, and even with a gentle sea, the yacht had been badly dented and scraped against the giant pillars. No wonder they usually used helicopters to land on these mothers.

  Looking high up the industrial tangle of girders and pipes, I could make out the red beacon that had captured Summer’s and my imagination and had drawn us in. So many times we had sat on the beach and stared out to sea, thinking there could be a safer, better place for us. It was supposed to be me and Summer together. Life was so cruel.

  Jefferson was gone. Summer had helped rid me of that man. She had given me the strength to toss him over the side, and watch him sink under a wave like the treacherous sack of shit he was. There would be no sleepless nights for him, I swore.

  Breathing hard, I found myself on
some kind of observation platform. Looking back, the mainland was nothing more than a hazy dream, an outline sketched by the faintest pencil. Jefferson’s blade was in my hand now, my knuckles white as I turned the lever and pulled the door open. The air tasted stale and my empty stomach turned as another injection of adrenalin fizzed into my system. I was too tired for it to have a full effect, my legs like lead.

  Pacing down the plastic laminate floor it was clear that this place was a maze, walkways and corridors spilling off in every direction. Turning down one I stopped, straining to hear movement, some other sign of life. It was clear there was still power in the building, the strip lights high on the walls glowing weakly. On a corner, I saw an arrow pointing to ‘ENGINEERING’, and followed. It crossed my mind I wouldn’t be able to find my way back, but the urge to explore was too strong to resist. My grief for Summer numbed any fear I had.

  ‘HELLO!’ I found myself shouting randomly. No reply above the electrical hum in the walls.

  At the double door to Engineering, I peered through wire mesh glass. Inside were a set of steep steps downwards, and the thumping drone of heavy machines. On the stairs, it was too noisy to think. I looked around myself constantly, waiting or perhaps even wanting to be attacked. Walking by the banks of machinery, I didn’t know what a single one did. I guessed everything ran on automatic, like the windfarm.

  The body flew at me from behind an oil tank. In a tattered blue boiler suit, he had been a big man with a beer belly. His big, grey hands grabbed me, slamming me backwards onto scalding metal pipes. My knees sank, equilibrium lost in my head, ears hearing only white noise. I was down, weakly pushing away this hellish man in front of me. The body’s eyes were white and torn, two gaping holes in his face, the putrid smell I thought I’d left behind making me gag. The mouth was closing, this was my end I knew. Behind was a man in a suit, then nothing.