by Casey, Ryan
Everything was falling apart.
He was a part of that everything.
If he didn’t act fast.
He tried to punch it. Tried to smack the infected. But it just grabbed his hand, pushed it back down to the ground.
And then its attention turned to Hayden’s torso.
To the insides within.
Hayden’s heart pounded. He knew he had to do something. Try something. The knife. Yes, the knife. He had to use the knife. It was in his back pocket. He could reach in there. He could…
The infected opened its mouth.
Pressed its teeth against Hayden’s belly.
Hayden kicked at it. Kneed it right in the side of its head. Knocked it off balance.
The infected snarled. Looked him right in the eyes, like it had some level of cognisance that he’d never witnessed in the undead before.
And then he saw it.
He saw the infected’s face clearly. He saw exactly who it was.
It was Michael. The same man who always called up when he was on the wall, asked how he was doing. He’d spoken to him just days ago. Spoken to him just after he’d cured him.
As Michael pinned him down, as Hayden struggled to fight his way free, reaching for the knife in his back pocket, a sickening thought hit Hayden square in the gut.
What if the immunisation did this?
What if the immunisation turned Michael into one of these monsters?
He didn’t have much time to check Michael for wounds. Not right now.
He just kept on punching back. Kicking back. Hitting at Michael’s head as hard as he could. He couldn’t delay much longer. He needed to get back to Miriam. He needed to know she was safe; she was okay.
Michael pressed down his right arm.
Moved in with his teeth.
Hayden took the opportunity, as risky as it was.
He reached for the knife with his left hand.
Grabbed it between his fingers as Michael’s teeth tightened on his arm.
And then he swung it at Michael’s neck.
At his head.
Harder, harder, harder.
He could still feel Michael’s teeth clamped down on his arm. He wasn’t sure if he’d been bitten; if he’d drawn blood. All Hayden could do right now was keep on stabbing, keep on hoping, keep on doing everything to get Michael away from him.
He stabbed. Stabbed, and felt Michael’s blood spilling over him. Tasted its saltiness on his lips. All around him, the stench and sound of death grew.
And then Michael’s body went limp.
Hayden dragged himself from underneath Michael’s body. He stood. Brushed back his hair, which was glued together with setting blood. He looked down at Michael. No way of telling if he was bitten or not. Not while the infected were in the streets. No time to waste.
He looked at his arm. He could see indentations, but he couldn’t see any blood coming from the wound. Of course, his arm was covered in the splatters of blood after he’d attacked Michael, but none of it seemed to be trickling from his own arm. Besides, it didn’t feel like he’d been bitten properly. Not the way he always imagined it’d be. He hadn’t felt any skin break.
Didn’t matter if he had.
He just had to get to Miriam.
He caught his breath. Ran up the street. His legs were a little shakier than earlier; his head was spinning. But he kept on going. Kept on going despite the sounds of footsteps in the streets beside him. Despite the bodies of the fallen living rolling over, writhing in agony.
Hayden felt a lump swelling in his throat as he ran through the bloodshed. He wanted to help these people. Put them out of their misery. They didn’t deserve to die in agony. That’s not what they’d fought for, what they’d worked for, in this place.
But he couldn’t stick around. Because he had to protect those who had survived.
He hoped Miriam was one of those people.
He prayed to whatever god might be up there that Miriam was one of those people.
He heard another crack behind him; an echo splitting through New Britain. He knew what it meant. More infected were inside. More of them had found their way into this place. He didn’t want to face it. Didn’t want to accept it. But denying it was stupid. Denying it was naïve.
This place was invaded. Something alien was inside his home.
Everything was falling apart in front of his eyes.
No!
He picked up his pace. Kept on running. He couldn’t give up. He couldn’t just throw it all away. Not after how far he’d come. Not after how far they’d all come, everything they’d worked for.
He stopped when he saw Miriam’s house right in front of him.
He stood there. All sounds disappeared. All smells, tastes, feelings, all of them faded away.
Miriam’s front door was wide open.
And on the floor right in front of the door, and right inside the house, there was blood.
Chapter Ten
Hayden walked slowly towards the open door of Miriam’s house.
He felt a bitter chill cover him as the late morning sun disappeared behind another cloud. Or maybe it was just the shock finally hitting him. The understanding of what was happening setting in.
New Britain was under attack.
His home was under attack.
And he was caught up in the middle of it all.
He held on to his knife, which dripped blood. He kept his eyes on Miriam’s open door at all times. He didn’t want to risk missing anything. He didn’t want to blink. He just wanted to keep his focus. Whether something lunged out and attacked him, or he saw a trace of life in Miriam’s place, he wanted to see it for himself.
He couldn’t hear a thing coming from inside Miriam’s house. He took that as a positive sign. His mind tormented him with imaginings of her tortured cries. Or her pained begging for him to put her out of her misery, to end her life.
He shoved those thoughts aside. He couldn’t think like that anymore.
He had to find her. And he had to find her fast.
Only then could he allow himself to think.
He pushed open the door a little further. Heard it creak as he moved it. The bloodstain on the floor stopped, right there. There were no footprints out of the house from it, or into the house for that matter.
Again, Hayden wasn’t sure what to make of that.
But no news was good news. At least, for now.
He stepped inside Miriam’s house. Instantly, he caught a whiff of her perfume—sweet, subtle. It brought out mixed emotions in him. Part of him wished he’d been here in the first place when New Britain had come under attack, so he could’ve worked with Miriam to help keep them both safe. Another part of him hoped that wherever she was, she was okay. That she’d got away somehow, as painful a thought as that was.
But the main part inside Hayden was regret. Regret, for never truly opening up to Miriam. Regret for never telling her how he really felt about her.
He would. He’d force himself to if he found her. He’d apologise for being so stuck in that damned bubble of his and he’d tell her exactly how he felt.
But first, he had to find her.
He searched the lounge. Then the kitchen. There was no sign of anyone in here. The only evidence of life were those left behind from earlier that day—an unwashed cereal bowl sitting at the bottom of the sink. A pair of jogging bottoms left stashed on the floor, like she’d been in the middle of putting them on when the scream erupted, or something like that.
Hayden tried not to imagine Miriam’s fear. He tried not to experience her pain. Because it pained him to think of her going through those emotions.
He just had to find her.
He searched the bottom floor of the house. Searched it completely. And when he still hadn’t found her, Hayden found himself staring up the staircase. Up to the floor above. Outside, he could hear footsteps. Snarls. Cries. Gunshots.
But inside, he could hear nothing.
He loo
ked up those stairs and prepared to climb.
And then he heard something.
His body froze. The hairs on his arms stood on end.
He could hear movement above him.
Someone moving around up there. Someone’s footsteps.
Or something’s footsteps.
He lifted his knife. Started ascending the stairs. He didn’t want to call out Miriam’s name because he didn’t want to attract any infected to his position. He just kept his focus on climbing those stairs. Of getting towards the source of the noise. He didn’t know whether it was from Miriam, from someone else entirely, or from something infected.
But he had to find out.
He had to face his fears.
See for himself.
He reached the top of the staircase. Kept his knife out in front of him, his hand shaking and sweating. He looked at the bathroom door. Held his breath. Prepared to open it up.
And then he pushed it open. Lunged in there. Readied himself to attack whatever might come out at him with the knife.
The bathroom was empty.
He stepped out of it. His heart raced. He knew there was only one more room in this house. They weren’t mansions, they were just small terraced houses. But they were big enough. They were just what they needed to be. They were home.
Hayden turned. He faced the bedroom door at the end of the landing corridor.
He stared at that door. Held the knife upright. He stayed still, his heart pounding, his mind spinning.
They were in there.
Whatever was in this house was in that room. In Miriam’s bedroom.
He had to go in there and see what it was for himself.
He walked towards it. Slowly. Being careful not to make a sound. His breathing and his racing heart sounded loud to him. He hoped it wouldn’t sound just as loud to someone, something, inside that room.
He stopped. Stopped right outside the door. Had a flashback. A flashback to the moment he’d gone to Clarice’s place all those months ago. Walked towards that bedroom door and found his parents in there. Dad, bitten, turned. Mum lying on the bed, in the process of turning.
He’d put them down. Put them both to rest. Watched them die in the bedroom, just like he’d watched his older sister hang in her bedroom when she was just sixteen.
He swallowed a lump in his throat. Gritted his teeth. He had no way of knowing what was behind the door without looking. He had no way of knowing what was inside without turning that handle and seeing for himself.
He had to go in there.
He had to face his fears.
He had to do what he had to do.
He put a hand on the handle. Held onto it in the complete silence.
Please be okay, Miriam.
He turned the handle.
Please be okay.
He pushed the door open and lifted the knife.
But he didn’t have to bring that knife crashing down.
“Hayden?”
Miriam was in the room. She was holding a machete.
By her side, other people that Hayden recognised. Martha. Her daughter, Amy. And another woman who Miriam was friendly with called Shelley.
All of them were holding weapons. Readying to attack whatever came through that door.
“You could’ve fucking said something,” Miriam said.
“Nice to see you too.”
“Quick,” Miriam said, closing the door behind Hayden. “Get the hell in here. Sit yourself down.”
“Out there, it’s—it’s—”
“I know,” Miriam said. “Still working the hell out of what we’re going to do. Thinking of making a runner to the—”
“No,” Hayden said.
Miriam frowned. “What?”
He shook his head. “We can’t go out there. Not on those streets. It’s not safe.”
“Hayden, it’s not safe in here.”
“It’s safer than it is out there.”
“But for how long?”
Hayden didn’t answer that question. Because the truth was, he couldn’t answer it. He didn’t know how long it was going to be safer in here than it was out there. He didn’t know how much longer it’d be before the infected made their way inside this house.
“The front door,” Hayden said. “It was open.”
“I killed one of ’em when I was running ’round here,” Shelley said. “Didn’t get much chance to close the door properly. Had to leave ’em lying there by the door.”
“That’s… that’s fine,” Hayden said. “Look, we need to barricade this door. Do you have any furniture we could use? The bed? The dressing table, maybe?”
“Hayden, slow down,” Miriam said. “We need to talk seriously about what we’re going to do here. Weigh up the best option.”
Hayden grabbed the bottom of the bed. Started to pull. “There’s only one damned option right now. And that’s…”
Hayden stopped pulling. He stopped talking. Everything around him just stopped.
“Hayden?” Martha said.
“Shelley. You say… you say you left the infected lying by the door?”
He turned and looked at Shelley. She frowned back at him. Nodded. “Well, yeah. Stabbed it in the neck with a screwdriver, which was enough. I didn’t move him, like. Didn’t have a lot of chance to do that.”
Hayden felt the tension in his body growing.
“What is it?” Shelley asked.
“If you didn’t move him, then who did?”
The room went silent. All of them were still in confusion. Trying to weigh up what was going on. What this meant. What they were going to do next.
And then Hayden heard the front door creak open.
Footsteps pattered into the house.
Something snarled.
Chapter Eleven
Hayden held on to his knife and stayed as still as possible.
He heard the footsteps creaking through the house downstairs. He wanted to believe they were just the footsteps of another person. Of another human, like him, just looking for somewhere to lay low amidst the chaos and destruction outside.
He wanted to believe that, but he knew it wasn’t true.
Because he could hear the infected snarling.
He heard a whimper. Looked around, saw Amy holding on to her mum, tears rolling down her cheeks. Martha stroked her hair. Miriam stood, slowly, then walked over to the window, checked it.
“We need to lay low,” Hayden whispered. He gestured to his knife. “We take it on. Kill it. We can defend this place.”
Miriam shook her head. Her cheeks were flushed like they always went when she was pissy about something, as good as she was at disguising her mood.
But she didn’t do anything to contest with Hayden. She just kept on looking at that window. Trying to open it up.
Hayden couldn’t let her leave here. He couldn’t let anyone leave here. Leaving here would get them killed. Simple as that.
Hayden crept back over to the door. He put his ear to it. Closed his eyes so he could get a better sense of where the footsteps were coming from.
He could hear them traipsing around in the kitchen. Just one, as far as he was aware. Hopefully just the footsteps of the infected Shelley thought she’d taken down.
Hayden thought about that. Shelley thought she’d killed one of them. But it’d crept off.
And if that infected walking around downstairs wasn’t the one Shelley had killed, then where had it gone?
“Hayden, we can’t stay here,” Martha said. “I won’t let my daughter die in here.”
“We’ve got this,” Hayden whispered louder. He tried his best not to whisper so loud that it’d bring any attention in the direction of this room.
“How can you say we’ve got this?” Miriam interrupted. “We’re trapped in here. We need to do something. We can’t just stay in here to die.”
“We aren’t going to die,” Hayden said, speaking a little louder now, unable to tame his voice. “Nobody has to die. And nobody
’s going to. Just… just trust me.”
Miriam stood there. She shook her head. “You’re doing this because you’re afraid.”
“Of course I’m bloody afraid.”
“It’s going to get you killed, Hayden. Your fear. It’s going to get you killed and it’s going to get everyone killed.”
“It’s not going to get anyone kil…”
Hayden stopped speaking.
He stopped because he’d noticed something different outside the door. Noticed a shift.
The footsteps. They’d stopped.
“I’m leaving,” Miriam said.
Hayden raised a finger. Put his ear to the door again. He closed his eyes. Listened. Listened for a sound. For a single creak.
The longer the silence went on, the more Hayden’s heart thumped.
The longer the silence went on, the more convinced Hayden grew that everything was going to be okay.
That they were doing the right thing by staying in here.
“What is it?” Shelley asked.
Hayden turned around. He half-smiled at the group. “The footsteps. They’ve stopped.”
“Bullshit,” Miriam said. “That doesn’t mean a thing.”
“It means everything,” Hayden said. “It means your house is clear. We’re going to be okay in here.”
Miriam’s eyes widened. And in spite of the awful situation, a smile spread across her face. Not a smile of joy, but one of bafflement. One of disbelief. “Hayden, do you fucking hear yourself?”
“Keep your voice down. Don’t want to draw them back here—”
“We can’t stay cooped up in here. People are dying. People are being fucking torn apart. This place—this whole place—it’s not safe anymore. You need to face up to that. You need to accept that.”
Hayden shook his head. There were so many things he wanted to say, but all he could manage was, “I can’t accept that.”
Miriam’s eyes glistened, watering. She nodded. “I know. I’ve known that all along.”
She turned around. Grabbed Martha’s hand. Amy followed Martha to her feet. Shelley stood up not long afterwards.
