by Mark Gordon
Chapter 45
Dylan's Story
Bonnie and Sally sat on the low concrete wall outside the warehouse waiting for Dylan to return. He’d left ten minutes ago to find the items he needed to set the warehouse alight, so they sat with their weapons on their laps chatting to each other as the hiders lay just metres away, unaware of their impending fate.
“You really like him don’t you?” Bonnie asked.
“Is it that obvious? I’m trying not to look too desperate, but yes, I really like him.”
“I thought so. He’s very handsome.”
“Yep.”
Bonnie paused and looked at Sally, as if sensing doubt. “What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”
“No, not really. I don’t know how to feel about all this violence and zombie killing. I’ve always been a pacifist, and liked boys who felt the same way, but Dylan seems so eager to kill these creatures. I don’t know; I’m just confused I guess.”
Bonnie put her gun down on the wall and took Sally’s hand.
“You needn’t worry. Dylan’s not a psychopath. His motivation for killing these creatures is very personal and very understandable, once you know what’s causing the hatred.”
Sally looked at Bonnie forlornly. “I thought I did know him. We’ve … well, you know, made love. Why has he told you things he hasn’t told me? I thought we were close. I thought he loved me too.”
Bonnie smiled. “Don’t panic. Dylan and I have some things in common. He told me some stuff that he wanted to get off his chest. He probably doesn’t want to scare you just yet with his emotional baggage. It’s hard for him to open up old wounds, but you need to give him a chance. He’ll tell you when he’s ready. It’s been very hard for him.”
“Oh,” said Sally, wondering how Dylan’s past could be any more traumatic than anybody else’s, including her own, but just as she was about to raise that point, they heard the sound of a car as it approached their position by the warehouse door.
“Here he is,” said Bonnie, picking up her gun.
The truck came around the corner, and Dylan gave them a little wave. He had secured a Post Office van and pulled it up at the top of the ramp near the warehouse. He climbed from the cab. “Any movement from inside?”
“Nothing,” replied Bonnie as they went to the truck to see what Dylan had brought back.
He opened the back doors and they could see an array of large glass bottles, a pile of bed sheets, a large bottle of liquid detergent and two metal drums.
“The petrol was the hardest thing to find,” he said. “The bowsers won’t work without electricity. I found these in the back of a mechanics shop. Everything else I got in a motel down the block.”
“What’s it for?” asked Sally.
“Well, the idea is Molotov cocktails, but I’ve only read about them so I’m not sure if they’ll work, so I have the van as a backup. Between both of them we should be able to make a pretty decent fire.”
Dylan explained his idea to the girls, and the next twenty minutes were spent filling the glass bottles with a mixture of petrol and liquid detergent, before stuffing a piece of petrol-soaked bed sheet tightly into the neck as a fuse. The other part of the plan was to park the Post Office van hard against the roller door at the bottom of the warehouse, before setting the petrol tank alight.
“What happens if the warehouse doesn’t burn?” Bonnie asked, as they lined up their homemade bombs on the concrete wall.
“I don’t think that’s likely,” Dylan replied. “This place is really old. The floors and internal frames are all timber. Once the fire takes hold, there’ll be no stopping it. We’ll need to get away really quickly. And even if the whole warehouse doesn’t burn down completely, I think the zombies will be killed by smoke inhalation, or in the crush as they all try to escape through that one roller door.”
Bonnie looked over at Sally, who was wearing a concerned expression. “What’s the matter? Are you okay?”
“This is horrific. It’s what? Inhumane or something! God, I know they’re zombies now, but a week ago these were people with families and normal lives. I have a real problem with just locking them in a building and burning them alive. It makes me feel like I’m the savage.”
Sally looked to Bonnie for support as Dylan threw down the rag he’d been wiping his hands with and replied angrily. “Look! Don’t you think I know that! Do you think this is some game? I’m playing the macho post-apocalyptic warrior? I fucking hate this, but I want every one of these things dead, and I don’t care if they die painfully.”
Sally was surprised. She knew that Dylan possessed a fierce abhorrence of these creatures, but she had never heard him express it so openly before. Just when she thought his tirade had finished, however, he continued, with a revelation so shocking that it made her shiver.
“Before this fucking event, I had a family! Before this event I had a daughter! I had a daughter! Do you understand?”
He stared at Sally, as if challenging her to continue with her argument, then went on, “Before last week I probably would have been on your side. Deep down you’re right aren’t you? It’s barbaric behaviour. Burning them while they sleep! I mean, it’s not like these freaks asked to be turned into zombies, is it? They can’t help it; but you’ve seen what they can do. You seen the destruction they’ve caused!"
He paused and Sally could see the angst, etched clearly on his face like a death mask. He wants to tell me something, she thought, as Dylan looked into her eyes, conflicted and hurt. There was a tangible sense of electricity between the trio, as they waited to see if Dylan would share his story or continue to hide it away like a secret tumor. There didn’t seem to be a sound in the world except for Dylan’s ragged breathing. Then, as a thousand creatures lay silently inside the warehouse waiting for death, he began to speak.
“I’m a father. I have, I mean had, a three-year-old daughter. She was my angel.”
He paused. “I may not be able to do this,” he said, giving Bonnie and Sally a look that almost broke their hearts. Then he took a deep breath and carried on.
“Her name was Maxine. I called her Maxy. She was the product of a one-night stand with a woman I should have stayed away from. My daughter was like a divine gift to me. I lived for her. Her mother and I hated each other, but the courts said I could see Maxy once a week, so I did. I wanted her to know her dad, and I wanted her to know that I was a good dad, who loved her. I had custody from six o’clock on Saturday nights to four on Sunday afternoons. It was the best time of the week for me. We both looked forward to it. We always did something fun and I never talked about her mother. It was just time for us.”
“Anyway, I’d been working the night shift on the Friday of the event at 'Snakebites', a hipster bar in the city. I thought it was weird that night when people started drifting out of the place a bit earlier than usual but I didn’t think much of it because I’d been so busy. Now I know that they were going to find somewhere to hibernate, but at the time I just thought they were going home to bed. I was in the cool room getting more beer and when I came out the other two bar staff had left, and I was alone. I was really pissed off! I thought they’d just gone home and left me to close up the bar without telling me! By that time it was about three in the morning. Anyway, I left a note for the manager to see when he came in the next day, telling him how pissed off I was, and closed up and headed home on my bike. The streets were really quiet, but I just thought it was one of those quirky things that happen sometimes. When I got home I was still wired from being at work so I reheated some Chinese food, had a few drinks and watched a movie. I went to bed as the sun was coming up and slept until around four in the afternoon, like I usually would on a Saturday. Then I woke up, had some 'breakfast' and tidied up the flat before it was time to go and pick up Maxy.”
In Dennington a dog barked, but Bonnie and Sally’s attention didn’t deviate from Dylan’s tortured face.
“Well, as soon as I went outside that afternoon I kne
w something had happened. The streets were empty - you guys know how it was. I got on my motorbike and rode to Maxy’s house as fast as I could. When I got there it was just starting to get dark. I kicked the door in and ran to her bedroom.”
Sally didn’t think that this strong man, who she was falling in love with, would be able to carry on. His face crumpled and tears welled in his eyes, but he continued to speak in a faltering, despairing voice.
“She was on her bed surrounded by her fluffy animals. Her mother … that fucking hideous thing...that beast…was on her…it was…it was...the worst thing I'd ever seen. It stopped for a moment and looked at me. It might have smiled. I’m not really sure about that because of all the blood.”
He made a choking sound as Sally came over and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m so sorry.”
Bonnie sobbed in the background as Dylan finished his story. “I grabbed the closest thing I could find. I think it was a coat-rack from the hallway. I beat that thing that had been my daughter’s mother to death with it. I didn’t hold back. It tried to kill me too, but at that point I was crazier than it was. It didn’t have a chance.”
Sally hugged him and began to understand his pain and why he held such hatred for these creatures. He returned her embrace fiercely as Bonnie came over to join them. After a few moments they released themselves from their bond of grief and stood staring resolutely at the warehouse. Bonnie was the first to speak.
“We must never let them own our world.”
