The Australian, Sally, seemed to take a different view on alcohol. As soon as they entered the pub they found optics full of spirits and fridges full of wine and beer. Immediately the Australian grabbed a bottle of German Larger and bit the top off. “It ain’t Ozzy beer,” he had said. “But it’ll do.”
Garfield told the men that they would take the alcohol back to camp and drink it in safety, but Sally laughed and grabbed another beer from the fridge. “Sod that, squire.”
“We’re not allowed to d-d-drink in the field,” Lemon told him, but his eyes were wide with wonder. The alcohol was calling to him.
“Not allowed? Are you a man or a possum?” Sally grabbed a third bottle of beer and lobbed it Lemon’s way. “You pommes are too serious. Lighten up and enjoy a beer. Life doesn’t have a lot of moments like this. Snatch at ‘em while yer can.”
Lemon looked at Garfield uncertainly. Garfield stared back at him with a stern expression on his face.
“I’ll have a brewski,” said Kirk. “It’s been a long day.”
“That’s a bad idea,” said Garfield.
“Probably,” said Kirk. “But it’ll sure feel good.” He uncapped a beer with his teeth and took a long pull from the bottle. He gasped and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. “God, that’s good.”
It hadn’t taken long before every one of them was drinking; everyone except for Garfield. He chose to sit on a corner bench and rest up for a while. He snagged himself a bottle of lemonade and was content enough with that. Hopefully, come morning, the foragers would not be too hungover to get up off the floor. Can’t blame them. Alcohol was a temptation even before everything that’s happened. It feels even better to escape nowadays.
Garfield would have enjoyed nothing more than to have joined the drunken revelling of the others, but he made the decision that at least one of them should stay sober. Lemon was already staggering and Kirk was downing vodka shots like they were apple juice. There was no need of designated drivers anymore, but having someone alert and lucid was as important as ever. Still, Garfield winced every time someone raised their voice or smashed a glass. It had grown dark outside and he had frequent visions of zombies creeping up to the windows in their droves. What Garfield never considered was that the dead were already inside. I should have checked the building out thoroughly.
After having enjoyed themselves for nigh on two hours, Cat suggested that they should make bed spaces now, rather than later when they might be incapable. She had let out a mighty belch to punctuate her thoughts.
Sally jumped up on the bar and lay down, pouring whiskey down his throat and giggling. “You fellas don’t mind me. I’ll just keep drinking until I pass out right here. Reminds me of being back in Brisbane. I used to drink the whole weekend through back in my younger days, different bird on each arm. Some real beauts I used to get me.”
“We should check out the upstairs,” said Lemon. “We’ll probably find beds up there. I’d like to sleep in a real bed.”
“First dibs,” shouted Danny and he and Squirrel rushed behind the bar. In their drunkenness they decided it was a good idea to karate kick the door that led to the backroom area.
As soon as the door flung open the dead piled into the cramped bar aisle and let out a chorus of hungry moans. In all of their raucous partying, no one had heard them scratching at the door.
A skeletal woman fell on Squirrel and tore out his windpipe with her teeth. He stumbled backwards against the bar, spraying blood all over the place. Sally, who’d been lying on the bar at the time, tumbled to the ground and shouted, “Crikey!” although he almost seemed amused by what he was seeing.
Danny went to drag Squirrel away, even though there was no point. Squirrel was already screwed. A dead man set upon Danny at once, grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket. He tried to turn on his heels, but the alcohol in his system made him clumsy and he fell down to his knees. The dead man seized him immediately and tore away the flesh at the back of his neck, biting down all the way to his spine. Half a dozen hungry corpses piled into the bar from the open doorway.
Garfield leapt up from the bench and thought fast. He picked up a stool and threw it behind the bar, slowing down the awkward strides of the dead trying to escape from the aisle. “Everyone get in the van, now,” he shouted. “Move, move, move!”
Everyone piled out of the pub, shoving through the front entrance and towards the minivan. The dead were outside, too, attracted by the noise. Garfield had to take down the nearest with a wrench he kept strapped to his chest. Sally and Kirk fought, too, while everyone else leapt into the minivan or climbed into the horsebox attached to the back. Once everyone was onboard, Garfield headed for the front passenger seat, but was surprised when he found Sally sitting there. There was no time to argue, so he slid open the door at the side of the van and dove across the laps of the others.
Kirk gunned the engine and they took off. A dead man snatched at the horsebox and was dragged a few metres until his arm tore loose and he fell facedown on the tarmac. They managed to burn rubber just as a dozen zombies piled out of the building and started towards them.
That had been three hours ago.
They’d driven in silence since then. Kirk focused on the road with a frown on his face, and even the Australian was quiet. Why did he decide to head for the front seat? Was it just something he did in the heat of the moment, or was there an agenda? Those in the back with Garfield stared into space glumly. Cat sobbed quietly. Dawn was only an hour away and hangovers were beginning to take hold. Everyone needed sleep.
“I think we need to find somewhere,” said Garfield. “Kirk, stop at the next safe place you can find.”
Out of the blue, Kirk smashed both fists against the steering wheel. The horn went pip! “Safe? I think we just learned that no place is safe. What the hell happened back there?”
“I said not to drink,” said Garfield. “We made too much noise.”
“Why the hell did you let everyone drink, if you knew it was such a bad idea?”
Garfield shook his head in disbelief. “What would you have me do? I’m not your babysitter. You all knew that drinking was a bad idea, but you did it anyway.”
“Seems to me,” said Sally. “That a decent leader would keep his men in line. The troops don’t always know what’s best for themselves. Soldiers need a strong hand.”
Garfield snorted. “Then maybe I should deal with your insubordination by dumping you on the side of the road. Is that a strong enough hand for you?”
“Don’t have a go at Sally,” said Kirk. “He has nothing to do with this, and he’s right. You should have stopped everyone from drinking. Danny and Squirrel are dead because of you.”
Garfield felt the same way, but he knew it was just his guilt. The truth was their own stupidity got them killed. They may call Garfield ‘leader’, but the truth was that every man was responsible for himself. “If you want to blame me, Kirk, then fine. But don’t kid yourself, okay? You all knew you were taking a risk by getting drunk. If any of you think you can do a better job being in charge, then we’ll discuss it when we’re back at the pier. I’m more than happy to let someone else take the responsibility. Tell you the truth, I’m sick of it.”
“The pier?” said Sally. “Is that where your camp is? That sounds bonza. Anyway, why should everyone discuss it at the pier? Why not now?”
There was silence in the minivan.
“Because now is not the time,” Garfield said.
“Seems to me that now is the only time. Don’t want anyone else dying because of bad leadership, do yer?”
That’s it. This guy is out on his arse. Garfield was about to shout an order to eject the Australian when Kirk turned his head to look back at him. “We’re almost there,” he said excitedly. “We’ve found it.”
Garfield shifted forward to look out the windscreen. There was a sign coming up on the left. It was lit by the minivan’s high-beams. It read: DEFENCE TRAINING ESTATE, ROYAL SCHOOL OF ARTILLE
RY, LARKHILL. 12 MILES. PLEASE WATCH YOUR SPEED.
Garfield let out a sigh of relief. “We’re here,” he said. “Let’s keep our fingers crossed.”
“That there are weapons there?” asked Lemon.
“No,” said Garfield, shaking his head. “Let’s cross our fingers that no one else dies.”
ANNA
Anna opened her eyes but could see only black. At first she thought she was blind, but then she saw the burning embers across the sand and the crackling fires up above on the pier. She coughed, spluttered, and sat up. The beach was unsafe. Sometimes the dead washed up on shore and began crawling around. No one ever set foot on the beach. So what am I doing down here?
She could only stare at the fire above her for a moment, marvelling at its beauty and enjoying the heat. It took her a few moments until she comprehended what it meant. The pier is burning. Something…something happened. A bomb, or an explosion…
Anna dragged herself up off the sand and staggered to her feet. Her head was swimming and she noticed fluid dripping from her fingertips. Her heart beat faster at the sight of her own blood, and she patted herself down frantically, looking for the source. A jab of pain on her right elbow alerted her to the fact that a long shard of wood had slid into her flesh and torn her open. She grabbed a hold of the giant splinter and cursed as she yanked it free. I…I don’t understand what’s happened.
But then she knew. She looked out across the moonlit sea and saw the bright lights of the frigate. 30MM guns, pointing right in our direction, she remembered someone saying. Roman had warned her, but she’d naively assumed he would return to negotiate. There had been nothing to gain by firing on the pier. But they did it anyway. Even now, after all the death and destruction we’ve seen, men will still kill to protect their vanity.
Anna spat at the ground and kicked sand into the air. She wanted to swim right up to the frigate and throttle whoever was in charge. Samuel Raymeady…
There were moans up above and suddenly Anna panicked that the dead had arrived. While she may have found herself stunned and disorientated on the beach, there was nobody else beneath the pier. The moaning could be coming from Alistair, old man Bob, or any of the others. Where is everybody? Are they okay?
Anna grabbed a hold of a twisted piece of the pier, which had collapsed from above. The large steel strut had twisted and bent inwards, making that whole section of pier list precariously to one side. The lowest part of the tilting deck was only ten feet above and almost within reach.
Anna placed a foot up onto the skewed piece of steel and hoisted herself higher. From there she was able to grab a hold of a plank jutting out from the deck. She winced as splinters bit into her palms, but she kept on climbing, pulling herself up, one handhold after another. By the time she pulled herself up onto the pier she was huffing and puffing, and her wounded elbow had split wide open. But none of that mattered.
The pier was on fire.
The amusement pavilion at the far end had collapsed into the sea. The top section of its tented roof was sticking above the waves like a coral reef. The decking that had led to it had splintered and snapped, bits of it now floating on the sea. The village side of the pier was still intact, along with the gate, but the middle section, where the diner and various gift shops were situated, was blackened and aflame. The deck fell away about eight feet behind where Anna was standing; only sea and sand existed where it had once been. If I’d been somewhere further down the pier I would be dead. Where were the others when we were hit?
As if to answer her question, old man Bob, Jim, and Samantha appeared from behind the toilet block. They were covered in ash and their eyes were wide and frightened. Even after surviving the apocalypse, they can still only take so much. Some of Samantha’s jewellery had snapped and broken. The bracelets on her wrists rattled a little less than usual.
Anna stumbled towards them, tears in her eyes as the relief washed over her that she was not alone in surviving the attack, but then she saw that they carried a body between them and she suddenly felt sick.
It was Chris. The middle-aged man was burned so badly that Anna could only recognise him from the bright red wellies he wore. His face was a twisted mask of swollen, blistered flesh.
“We were hoping you could help him,” said old man Bob.
“But he’s already dead, isn’t he?” said Samantha glumly.
Anna nodded and stayed silent for a moment. “What happened?” she eventually asked.
Old man Bob spat a mouthful of ash onto the deck. “We were bombed…shot…I don’t know, whatever. That godless ship fired on us.”
“All because of that man they wanted?” said Samantha. She was a mixture of sad and angry. “Just because of him? We didn’t deserve this. We did nothing. Why did they do this to us?”
Anna couldn’t answer the question, so she asked one of her own. “Where’s everybody else? Poppy, Rene, Alistair, Tim?”
Bob shrugged. The older man looked like he was about to die where he stood. “Just us, lass. I haven’t seen the others.”
“Then we need to find them now.” Anna stared at the fires that illuminated the middle of the pier. The roof of the Sea Grill restaurant had collapsed in on itself and was slowly succumbing to the flames. The toilet block was all brick and hadn’t caught alight. Neither had the ice cream shop where Garfield and Poppy stayed. Further down, the last section of the pier was completely untouched by flames, but the only buildings it contained were a small cashpoint vestibule and a tourist helpdesk. And the gate. Thank God the gate still stands. “Everybody, get searching,” she ordered. “There’ll be time to cry later.” And time to figure out how to make someone pay for this.
They found Rene inside the diner. They spotted him staggering out of the burning building with Tim slumped over his shoulder, like some action hero in a movie. Tim was still conscious and swinging his crutches left and right, batting away the burning debris as Rene carried him out onto the deck and placed him back on his feet.
Anna threw her arms around Rene when she saw him. “You’re alive,” she said, stating the obvious, but glad to be able to say it.
“But injured,” Rene grunted, easing her back and wincing. Along his neck, from his chest to his chin, a deep burn glistened. The flesh was bright pink amongst his normal healthy dark skin.”
Anna winced. “Jesus Christ.”
Rene nodded. “May he guide me back to health. I am okay for now, Anna. What needs to be done?”
Anna answered immediately. “We need to find Poppy. Alistair, too.”
“I’m sorry,” said Tim. “This is all my fault.”
Anna marched up to the cripple and snarled. “No, its half your fault. That son of a bitch on his little toy boat is responsible for the other half.” She walked away and began her search for Poppy. She would deal with Tim later.
Poppy and Alistair were on the rooftop. I remember because I left them to head for the diner. I was outside on the deck when the pier was hit. I must have been thrown onto the beach. If the sand wasn’t so wet I might have died when I landed.
Anna angled her run and headed for the Sea Grill. The rooftop had gone, fallen-in from the fire, but where were Alistair and Poppy? Had they been hit? Or thrown free like Anna had been? Damn it! Where are you two?
Flames had not yet consumed the interior of the restaurant. It smouldered and smoked in some places, but the fire was yet to fully take hold. Anna pushed open the door and stepped inside. The smoke made her choke immediately. She shoved a sleeve over her mouth and swallowed hard. The stars shone down from the centre of the room through a large gap where the ceiling had split open. The far side of the diner was completely devastated by the heavy, burning lintels of the roof, which had snapped like twigs and fallen to the ground. At the back of the room was the open-plan kitchen, currently unharmed.
Alistair lay on the ground ten feet from Anna. He was bleeding heavily. A pool of blood surrounded him on the cracked tiles, congealing quickly in the heat of the nearby
fires. Anna leapt down beside him and placed a hand against his cheek. “Al, it’s okay, I’m here. It’s Anna. I’m going to help you.”
Alistair spluttered and a mouthful of blood ended up on his chin. “Y-you can’t help me, lass. I’ve been violated, huh.”
Anna frowned and wondered what he meant, but then she saw. A steel shard had violated his groin in the space between his bellybutton and his genitals. Whether the thick shard had come from the shell that hit the pier or from something else, she did not know, but it had torn Alistair’s insides apart. Shit, this is bad.
Anna felt herself cry. For a long time she’d not wanted to love or trust anyone besides Rene, but she knew now that she’d come to love the people on the pier like family. Alistair was an obstinate asshole, but he was like a brother. She wished she’d realised it earlier.
Alistair forced a smile onto his face and struggled to speak again. “I’m g-glad you’re okay, Anna. I was w-w…worried.”
Anna laughed. “Don’t you worry about me, you silly sod. You should…”
Alistair eyes had gone still. His chest had stopped moving.
Anna never even had the chance to say goodbye. Death didn’t wait for pleasantries, she knew that, but she’d hoped for another minute or two. She leant forward and kissed Alistair’s cheek, then stood up and walked towards the kitchen. Rene tried to enter the restaurant behind her, but she shouted at him to leave. Nobody else needs to see this.
Anna took a deep breath and held it for a minute. The smoke inside the restaurant was thickening and burning her eyes, but she couldn’t leave yet. Poppy had been with Alistair when the shells hit. Anna had to find her. She’d promised Garfield she would look after the girl. I need to find her. I need to find her.
Poppy lay beneath a table by the kitchen. Her blonde plaits were blackened and half her face was missing. Despite that, she seemed peaceful. Her body was lying comfortably and her mouth was pursed into a smile. The intense heat of the blast had taken her instantly, but that didn’t make Anna’s sadness any less. The little girl didn’t even seem real anymore. She looked more like an old porcelain dolly with a broken face.
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