The Undead | Day 25 [The Heat]

by Haywood, RR

  Complacency kills.

  ‘Looks alright to me,’ Javid says, turning through a long, gentle corner as Heather checks his speed. ‘Nice day again. All this sunshine and rain is making it all grow. Give it a year, and you won’t even see this road. You mark my words. Be gone, it will. Thousand years from now, they’ll be digging it up like we do with all that Roman stuff. Anyway. So what else we immune to then? Just the zombie thing, is it? What about the flu? I used to get them flu jabs. Is that what they want us for? They gonna take what we’ve got and like, you know, spread it about to the others.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Heather murmurs.

  ‘Antibodies,’ someone says from behind. A man Heather tracked a few days ago. ‘That’s what they need. We’ll have antibodies.’

  ‘Better than catching whatever that is,’ Javid says to a low agreeable murmur coming from the others. ‘Ah, it’ll all work out best. Always does. Just gotta keep smiling.’

  ‘Next left,’ Heather says, checking the route.

  ‘I know, love. I know these roads, and we haven’t seen a soul.’

  ‘There’s the junction.’

  ‘I know, Heather. You don’t need to keep telling me. We follow this one through Lowton and-.’

  ‘Through Lowton? Why are we going through Lowton?’ Heather asks, snatching the map up. ‘I said no towns.’

  ‘It’s tiny.’

  ‘I said no towns.’

  ‘But the other road floods. This rain and weather, and the storms. The council have to pump it out. We’ll whip through. It’s hardly a town. Look. It’s right there.’

  ‘Fuck’s sake! I said no towns. Towns are dangerous. We need to turn back and find another road.’

  ‘Can you stop swearing, please!’ one of the mothers in the back says in a tight voice.

  ‘Oh, now, that’s a bit of a pickle,’ Javid says with a gentle tut as they go through a corner to see the road ahead blocked by storm damage. Wheelie bins and debris picked up in floods and dumped in the road.

  ‘Go through it,’ Heather says.

  ‘I can’t. We’ll rip the sump out or rupture a pipe.’

  ‘I said no towns. I said no fucking towns,’ she snaps the words out while pulling her rifle forward to check the magazine. Slotting it back in. Loaded. Made ready. Safety on. ‘What part of that was difficult for you to fucking grasp?’

  ‘Hey!’ the mother shouts, rising to her feet.

  ‘Stay here and be ready to go, and do not stop until you hit the fort,’ Heather says, stepping out while remembering the lessons Blowers taught her.

  Silence.

  Nothing happens.

  ‘She likes the drama, doesn’t she,’ Javid mutters in the coach.

  ‘She’s got a potty mouth if you ask me,’ the mother says. ‘Disgusting language, and she’s rude. Just rude. There’s no need for it. I’ll be speaking to whoever is in charge when we get to this fort. They need to replace her. Awful. Just awful.’

  Heather reaches the first bin and starts dragging it away. Cursing at the noise it makes.

  ‘She’s moving ‘em one at a time,’ Javid says with a look to Paco standing by the open coach door. ‘I’m going out to help.’

  ‘She said to wait here,’ Gemma says.

  ‘It’s fine! There’s nothing here. She’s panicking over nothing. We’re immune anyway.’

  ‘We’re not all immune,’ Jane Tildren calls out, glancing at her husband.

  ‘Go back inside!’ Heather snaps, hearing motion behind as Javid steps from the coach.

  ‘Two of us’ll clear it faster.’

  ‘Inside. Now!’

  ‘Alright, love. You need to watch how you speak to people.’

  It happens then.

  Something flares inside Paco’s head. His face hardens instantly. His frame stiffening. Heather clocks it. ‘GET INSIDE NOW!’

  The first-floor windows above them explode in a shower of glass. Men and women. Old and young dropping out as they give voice with howls and screeches.

  No time to think. No time for thought, and Heather aims her rifle. Splitting the air apart with gunfire as Paco does the same. Sending rounds at the bodies as they fall.

  Screams from inside the coach. Instant chaos. Javid staggers away in fright. His stomach flipping over.

  ‘GET INSIDE,’ Heather shouts. ‘JAVID. INSIDE!’

  Javid doesn’t hear. He can’t think. It’s all happening so fast. From so many directions at once. The air filled with guns and screeches. With screams and yells.

  Heather empties a magazine within seconds, but the compression from the attack comes too quickly. ‘Get him inside!’ Heather yells, slinging her rifle to draw her machete as she runs past Paco. Lashing out with the sharp blade.

  A hand on Javid’s arm. A sense of motion. The world spins by, and he’s off his feet, launched into the coach as Paco ditches his empty rifle and grabs his scaffolding pile. He runs out while pulling back for a strike. Rushing past Heather to slam several down at once.

  ‘Paco, go back!’ she shouts as the sound of smashing and screams of terror reach them. A glance back to the coach. To the infected driving headfirst into the skylight on the roof. ‘THEY’RE INSIDE!’

  She vaults the steps. People on their feet, screaming out. She can’t get through. She drops the machete and heaves someone away. Kicking and punching people to move as the infected drops to the floor. Howling out. Heather dives for it. Pulling a knife as she barrels into the male’s legs. Taking him down to the floor. He fights hard. Thrashing and bucking. Biting at her arms. Clawing her flesh. She stabs once. Getting the blade into his side as another infected drops through the broken skylight. Teeth on her shoulder. She screams, with every vein pushing through her neck and forehead. She stabs into the neck of the one below her, then twists about onto her back, and drives her thumbs into the eyes of the infected on top of her, popping the sockets. Hot goo sprays out. The creature pays no heed and gets wilder. She scrabbles a hand on her tac-vest. Drawing the pistol to fire rounds into his chest and head. The skull blows out. The infected sags dead. She heaves it away. Snatching views while crawling free.

  ‘GO!’ Heather shouts out. Aiming her pistol up to fire into the already busted skylight. Getting a shot through a head as the coach jolts forward from Javid stamping his foot down.

  The engine roars out. The speed builds, and Heather runs to the front, grabbing at Paco to pull him back from the open door as the coach slams into the remaining debris. Smashing bins and rubbish aside. Things get trapped underneath. Adding more noise and vibration to the chaos. Paco kicks out into bodies trying to dive inside, but the coach gets moving, pulling away, and the roof fills with thuds as the infected roll over the top and drop off the end.

  Paco sags back. The door clear. The coach moving. People crying and whimpering in fear.

  ‘Oh god, no… Oh god, no!’ a scream from the back. The mother that told Heather off for swearing now on her feet and clutching at her son. A little boy. Brown hair. His face spattered with blood. His hands clutching his belly. His body tensing up as waves of agony spread through him.

  ‘NO!’ Heather yells, but it’s too late, and the mother presses her face to the boys. Weeping hard. Screaming out in grief and shock. The blood on his face touching her lips. Heather runs for them. Grabbing at the child. Heaving him away from the mother. She screams out with maternal panic as Heather drags the kid along the aisle. His body locking out with spasms as the infection surges through his body. His mother screaming and grabbing at him.

  ‘OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!’ Heather yells as Paco looms past her, grabbing the mother to hold her back. Javid hits the button. The door opens. The world outside spinning by. The mother fights to get free of Paco, watching in horror as her child is lowered to his feet. His back to the open door. Heather drawing a pistol. Aiming.

  ‘NO!’ the mother screams. The gun fires. The boy falls out with a spray of blood. Gone forever. Dead. ‘NO!’ the mother screams the word, stretching it ou
t as she sinks down. The shock rendering her screams to silence. A pain in her gut. A sudden, awful pain that makes her curl up in agony. Paco carries her. Positions her. Heather aims. The gun fires. She falls out of the coach.

  ‘I said no towns,’ Heather mutters, blood and gore once more coating her body. ‘I said no fucking towns.’

  4

  Day Twenty-Nine

  Diary of Charlotte Doyle

  Paula has requested that we keep records of what we do as it will be important for other people to understand how things happened. She said our personal accounts should reflect our own views, but we should try and stay factual to what we did and what we saw.

  I’m not sure many of the others are writing diaries, but I am happy to do it. I agree with Paula, and that it is important to maintain a record.

  So, that being the case, I should think it’s best to start at the beginning and tell you that it was a rather eventful start to our morning, but when isn’t it?

  In fact, I should be rather more surprised if one day we awoke from our slumber, and nothing happened at all.

  I’ve just read that back and realised I used the words awoke and slumber, and have instinctively reverted to a Jane Austen diary style, but obviously, one with zombies. (I think they actually made Pride and Prejudice into a zombie movie. I never saw it, but I recall Blinky saying, and I quote, that it was the dog’s bollocks cos girls look fit as fuck in those old dresses.)

  I miss Blinky.

  I miss her so much that it creates a ball of real pain inside when I think about her, so then, I try not to think about her. Which then only makes me feel guilty because it’s like I am actively avoiding her memory – which, I guess, is the best coping mechanism I have right now.

  But anyway, let me explain what happened this morning. As I said, it was a rather eventful start. We’d spent the night back at Camber airstrip, and at early dawn, I was in the clubhouse lounge asleep in my bedding and having the most pleasant dream.

  I was laying on my back (in the dream) and watching the clouds going by when Cookey’s face loomed over me, and I knew (in the way you know things in dreams) that he was finally going to kiss me, which I was very happy about, but instead of kissing me, he grabbed one of my ankles and started dragging me across the floor like a caveman.

  Which was hot, by the way. Especially when he started barging chairs and tables aside just so he could have his way with me.

  Then, it got a bit weird because someone else rolled into me and started getting dragged along, and I was thinking, oh gosh, does Cookey want a threesome? Am I okay with that? And especially in a shoe shop. What would the customers think?

  Mind you, I wasn’t entirely against the idea. I was extremely turned on for a start, which then only got worse when the other person started kissing my cheeks and breathing all hot and heavy into my ear. Which totally does it for me. They were wet kisses too and quite rough. But also very nice.

  Then, I heard Tappy murmuring, ‘You’re too wet, Nick.’ And I was thinking Oh gosh this is escalating. We’re not going for a threesome; we’re going into an orgy with Nick and Tappy.

  Which, you know, was totally weird while also being totally hot. I mean – I’ve been waiting forever for Cookey to make a move, and now, he was finally doing it. And there is something very sexy about Tappy and all of her tattoos.

  Wow. So, yeah. Okay then. I was into it, and there I was. Giving kisses back to Tappy and getting super wet kisses in return while being dragged by the ankle to have an orgy in a shoe shop.

  Which is when, I gather, Sergeant Blowers came awake to see me trapped in my bedroll being dragged across the clubhouse by Jess walking backwards. Not only that, but I also had Tappy cuddled into one side of me, and everyone else’s boots snagged against my outstretched arm.

  Now that, I am sure, was a strange enough sight on its own, but perhaps nothing compared to the sight of Tappy and I trying to kiss each other while Meredith walked behind us licking our faces.

  Which is when everyone else seemed to also wake up. Not that I knew that. Although, I am assuming Blowers said something because I suddenly became aware of him in the shoe shop and feared we would either be told off or that the orgy was about to gain another member.

  That, thankfully, was enough to give me sufficient alarm to finally wake up. With both Tappy and I opening our eyes while mid-lick of the other, while also getting sloppy morning kisses from Meredith, and while being dragged across the floor by Jess – whom, at that point, tossed her head and sent poor Tappy flying off across the clubhouse.

  And with Tappy gone, Jess sped up, and I was positively sailing along while yelling at Jess to stop it and put me down right now. I told her I meant it too. Not that she listened.

  The most awful thought then entered my mind because I went past Danny who was still asleep on his back, with his giant willy pushing up under his sheet, and honestly, I was thinking to grab it for something to hold onto. I mean, it is big enough. (For both hands.) But then, I thought perhaps it is not the done thing for a corporal to grab a young man’s big willy, even if that corporal is being dragged by a hungry horse. In the end, I decided against grabbing it and told Danny to roll over. Which he did most promptly with a sleepy apology.

  I then reverted to telling Jess to put me down and continued doing so as we entered the corridor and passed the rooms being used by the elders. Which were all opening, with various people coming out, mostly still in underwear, while Sergeant Blowers and everyone else ran behind me, yelling suggestions.

  ‘That horse needs gripping!’ Clarence said after coming out of his room with a look of surprise.

  ‘Stop feeding her bloody biscuits then!’ I shouted back at him. (Which I shouldn’t have done as Clarence is a senior in the team.)

  ‘Biscuits don’t cause kidnapping,’ Clarence said.

  ‘Gateway drug!’ Marcy shouted from her room while stretching like a cat on her bedding. She did give me a beaming smile through the door though, and it’s always nice to get a smile from Marcy. It really brightens your day.

  Mr Howie, of course, was right in the thick of the action. Rushing about with Clarence and the others. All of them with sleepy eyes and sleepy heads, and all shouting at each other. Such is our way when a non-zombie calamity strikes. And I must be honest, I was joining in and trying to berate both Jess for dragging me and Clarence for the whole ongoing biscuits issue.

  ‘Everyone, just calm down,’ Clarence then ordered. ‘I’ve got her,’ he said and started picking me up. Which, of course, prompted Jess to think someone was trying to take me away, and seeing as Jess views me as her own personal slave, that was never going to be allowed to happen. And so, Jess pulled harder which only made Clarence pull harder, with the two of them playing tug-o-war with me as the rope.

  ‘What the hell!’ Paula snapped as the bathroom door flew open. ‘I can’t even poo in peace!’

  ‘Gross, Paula!’ Cookey said.

  ‘Why is it gross?’ Paula asked as the lads all made yucky faces. ‘Women do shit too, you know.’

  ‘Oh stop!’ Booker said.

  ‘You lot are bloody sexist! And this is because of all those bloody biscuits, Clarence,’ Paula said, waggling a roll of toilet paper at him.

  ‘Biscuits don’t cause kidnapping, Paula.’

  ‘Gateway drug,’ Marcy called helpfully before giving me another big smile while I was suspended in the air outside of her door. She then proceeded to open a small compact to check her reflection, which was all rather surreal given the chaos going on. But then, in fairness, Marcy rarely gets in a flap about anything. Unless she chips a nail, of course, at which point we all become very aware it’s the end of the fucking world.

  I digress.

  So, there I was. A human Christmas cracker between a horse and a giant, with the horse slowly winning. Which was confirmed by the almighty bang of Jess’s rump crashing into the doors and pulling me outside, with Clarence and everyone else spilling out after us.

 
It was all very chaotic and noisy, but I then spotted Henry stepping out of the clubhouse, looking all smart and dapper in tan trousers and a checked shirt. He took one look and, quick as a flash, darted in with a knife, sliced the bedding, and caught me in his arms as I dropped free. Which, of course, only made Jess, Clarence, Mr Howie, and everyone else all fall away from the sudden release of pressure. While he – Henry – stood with me in his arms, with barely a tremble, I might add (and he smelled amazing).

  ‘Are you hurt?’ Henry asked as he lowered me to my feet.

  I said I wasn’t while everyone else fell rather quiet. I’ll admit I was rather caught out, especially with the rather sexually charged dream I’d just had, and I think that showed as I stammered somewhat and, most likely, blushed furiously.

  Henry was charming though. He just smiled politely and headed back towards the clubhouse. ‘When you are ready, Mr Howie. Perhaps we can discuss our plans. Oh, and are you drilling this morning, Sergeant Blowers? Carmen and Bashir would like to join in, if that is not an intrusion…’

  Henry then fell silent and looked up over our heads with an action that prompted us to do the same, which is when we all saw a bright orb streaking high in the sky with a tail like a comet.

  ‘What’s that?’ Paula asked as several others showed great concern and alarm.

  ‘It’s just a satellite,’ Henry said in a calm voice. ‘Low orbit comms satellite, I should say. They’re affected by the Earth’s gravitational pull, and without humans to keep them firing and stabilised, they’re starting to come back down.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Howie said. ‘I thought they burnt up in the atmosphere.’

  ‘Not always. The larger ones are brought down into the Pacific Ocean. But I would suggest that in the absence of human intervention they’ll come down all over the planet.’

  It was actually very interesting listening to Henry. He has a lovely, deep, cultured voice, and it’s like listening to an old Pathè news narrator. Very calm and controlled while keeping you entirely focussed on what he’s saying. Even Cookey and the lads stayed silent and didn’t make any jokes.