The Undead | Day 25 [The Heat]

by Haywood, RR

  ‘Why are you nodding at me?’ Clarence asked, sipping from his takeout latte on the bench seat. Paula wedged in next to him. Marcy opposite winking and nodding while Howie sat on her other side. Quietly enjoying his coffee and the rising caffeine levels while again pondering why the shit they didn’t get into the van. I know that because he was muttering it. (He mutters a lot)

  ‘I was just thinking that,’ Marcy said. ‘Why aren’t we in the van?’

  ‘Fuck’s sake,’ Howie grumbled.

  ‘You said it out loud,’ she said.

  ‘I didn’t!’

  ‘You did,’ Clarence said before sipping his coffee as Marcy went back to nodding and winking at him. ‘Stop doing that.’

  ‘Stop what?’ Paula asked. ‘Shit name though. Poor kid.’

  ‘What would you call your baby?’ Marcy asked her.

  ‘Oh god, no idea.’

  ‘Something beginning with C maybe?’ Marcy asked with another wink at Clarence.

  ‘Seriously. Why are you doing that?’ Clarence asked as Paula sighed at his side again. Her body pressing into his. But then there wasn’t not much choice really. Not with Clarence taking the space of three normal sized people and everyone else crammed in like sardines.

  It was so packed that I could barely lift my arm to drink my coffee, which only got worse the first time Tappy used the brakes and we all slid a bit. ‘I’m getting crushed,’ I said with a yelp while wedged between Danny and Booker. ‘Someone pull me out.’ I stretched my arms and felt Blowers and Cookey grab my wrists to pop me out like a cork from a bottle – and I don’t know why, but I just did it. I saw the opening and I took it. You have to remember that I was the captain for the under 21’s England hockey team and played league polo. I’m super competitive and able to seize a chance when I see it. And so yes. I saw a chance right there with Cookey right next me and with nowhere else to go I plopped down on his lap with a big grin.

  He of course went all wide-eyed as everyone else cheered and made noises- because as I said, the energy was high. The mood was good. ‘Oh my gosh,’ I announced while stretching my legs out. ‘That’s so much better. Do say if I’m squashing you though.’

  ‘Yeah. Get off fatty,’ Cookey said with a laugh as I pushed down harder and wriggled about to a few more laughs.

  ‘Fatty is not on the safe word list!’ Tappy called from the front.

  ‘You’re fine. Paula’s dreaming of babies,’ Marcy said with another wink and nod at Clarence. ‘Have you ever thought about kids, Clarence? You’d make such an awesome dad.’

  ‘You sure I’m not too hot?’ I asked after twisting around to look at Cookey and motioning that I will rise and leave him alone. But he shook his head while sipping from his coffee and pulled me back down. I smiled at his blue eyes and reached out to push his hair back. Wincing comically at the sodden sweat. But then we were all dripping with sweat so it was nothing new – but there it was again, that sudden closeness between us while everyone else chattered on about babies and Dave’s mum and this and that.

  ‘You ever thought about kids?’ I asked Cookey. ‘You’d make an awesome dad.’

  ‘You’d be an awesome mum,’ he said. ‘You could teach them horse-riding and languages and all that smart stuff.’

  ‘You can teach them the new sock dance,’ I said, making him laugh with delight as I slipped further along his thighs to settle into him a bit more.

  It was strange really. I mean, the heat was nothing short of brutal, but it was a golden moment and one I shall never forget. The way everyone was chatting all around us. The laughs and the jokes. The vibration coming up through the wheels. The Saxon had become a home from home for us. A place of safety. It was incredibly uncomfortable and induced motion sickness all the time. It stank to high heaven and was far too hot and rattly, but we’d all been wrenched from our lives and families, and that was all we had. The Saxon and each other.

  And there I was. On Cookey’s lap with my body pressing into his. There was something between us. An energy or perhaps a yearning. It was so clear from the way he looked at me – and yet he suddenly shifted with a look of discomfort.

  ‘Am I too heavy?’ I asked.

  ‘No! It’s fine,’ he said but he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  ‘Cookey, what’s wrong?’ I asked quietly. Then a second later I felt it. His erection pushing into my backside. Honestly. It was the last thing I expected and I’ll admit I gasped with surprise and I’ve no doubt my eyes widened. Then he looked at me with deep worry in his eyes and shame burning his cheeks. I immediately thought I should get off and spare his blushes and not mention it, or perhaps pretend I hadn’t noticed and make some small conversation about something else.

  And perhaps I should have done those things, but I was flushed with high energy and a good mood, and I was horny. Good god I was horny, and so I felt a rush of mischievous delight.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispered.

  ‘Don’t be,’ I said and gave him a slow smile while shifting a little to push into him. That made his eyes go wider, that’s for sure, and so I did it again. I pushed down a little bit more before turning to face front. Smiling and laughing at whatever jokes and banter were going on while pushing down into his hardness. Then I quickly looked back to make sure he was okay and saw him give me a nervous smile. I winked and faced front again.

  There was a delicious naughtiness about it, and just doing that tiny, almost insignificant act gave me a deep sense of joy. It was escape from the horrors of what we do, and it heightened the intimacy between us, which only then I realised I had been craving a great deal more since Blinky died.

  ‘Honestly though! Who calls a kid David Dave Davidson?’ Paula asked as the chuckles and laughs rolled about while I ever so slowly pushed down into his lap.

  But then it got even better because I felt my top being tugged out from my trousers then a sensation on my naked back from his fingertips finding my skin. Drawing small circles and sending shivers up my spine. I turned to smile at him. To show him that it was okay. That he could touch me and that this was safe.

  A few miles later and we were on the London Road heading out of Storrington and still heading north east. Barrelling into the green and lush countryside. We then happened upon Squire’s Garden Centre and observed the large car park bordering the warehouse buildings were filled with infected. A moment later and the air split apart from the sound of gunfire.

  A few moments given. A few words shared.

  ‘We can’t stop. Head to the fort. Don’t touch the bodies.’

  Then we were back into the Saxon. Back to being hot bodies in a hot tin can.

  The energy high. The day growing hotter. We were cracking skulls and saving lives with heroic deeds and courageous acts.

  Cookey took his seat, and without saying anything again, I took his lap. But it was cool. A few people smiled but it was so packed I think everyone was glad of the extra few inches of space they’d gained. And then, once we got going, I felt it again beneath my bottom then his fingers were inside my shirt, gently tracing patterns over my skin. It was divine. I was in heaven. That’s my happy place now. When it got dark, which it did later, that’s where I went.

  We reached Ashington. The infected spotted on the road here and there. Heading in the same direction. Others seen crossing the fields to the side. Giving indication they were heading towards something. Or after something.

  We headed for the community centre as I understand a young man called Jordan said there were survivors with children hiding at that location, and they were low on food, but also that they wanted to make a break for the fort. I gather our intention was to help them get on their way and render what aid we could, while of course, still searching for the CP that Henry wanted to see.

  We found it easy enough. Ashington Community Centre. Low buildings nestled between lush green sports fields, and there was a gorgeous school across the road with a lovely playground outside that any parent would feel blessed to send their chil
d.

  It was a tranquil place. A place of wonder and beauty.

  But it was also a place of horror and death.

  We parked the Saxon in the car park. The van behind it. The SUV alongside. Then we got out to stare at the smashed in windows and doors of the community centre. The pools of blood and the flies feasting upon the bodies.

  We were too late.

  The infected had got inside.

  We could see the hole in the windows where the boards were not strong enough and how the people inside tried to fight back. The sticks and knives they used. The shotguns dropped on the ground. The spent cartridges amongst the bodies of the ones they killed before they were overwhelmed and taken.

  And there. Seen through the ripped out windows and doors lay the bodies of those that took their own lives rather than face the horror coming for them.

  Men, women and children lying in dried pools of blood with their throats cut, and to the last we could only imagine the absolute horror of what they faced and the pain of killing their own children.

  Reginald

  It was a truly awful sight. Tragic in a way that rendered us all to complete silence, and especially after the battle of Storrington.

  But there we stood, in that great silence broken only by the swarms of flies buzzing between the rotting corpses.

  But that view juxtaposed the serenity of an otherwise perfect place. The fields were still green. The playpark was still shining in bright colours. The sun was still climbing the sky. The air was still thick and shimmering.

  I stood back from the others to keep an overview of the whole thing, and although this sounds so very wrong, I was glad Henry had seen it. Henry needed to see it and be exposed to the true scale of the event and that it wasn’t something just happening to faceless victims.

  That real people were suffering in the very worst ways imaginable. That is exactly what Henry needed, and truth be told, I couldn’t have asked for a better sequence of events.

  A child being born followed by the sight of people we didn’t save.

  ‘When did this happen?’ Howie then asked as Frank walked inside the community centre and through to the back where the bodies lay dead with their throats cut.

  ‘Overnight probably,’ he said, looking around at the corpses. ‘Heat makes it hard to be precise, but they’ve all pissed themselves.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ Marcy asked.

  ‘Means their bladders were full from sleeping,’ Carmen said. ‘They probably woke up to the things breaking in.’

  ‘That nipper was right,’ Frank added while holding a single tin of baked beans up. ‘That’s all they had left. Poor sods.’

  A grunt from Howie. From others too. All of them feeling it. Seeing it. Smelling it.

  ‘Where’s closest to here?’ Carmen asked, looking back to me then over to Henry.

  ‘Either Billingshurst or Southwater,’ I said. ‘They’re roughly equal distance.’

  ‘And this CP were looking for did this?’ Carmen asked as Henry turned away with a dark look on his face. ‘Billingshurst is larger. I suggest we start there,’ he said.

  We loaded up without needing orders to do so – because the chase was underway, and we had our foe formed in the shape of the elusive CP we were now tracking.

  A thing now defined as monstrous from the horrors we’d just saw.

  It was taking time, but the pieces on the board were moving into place, and Henry was slowly being drawn into the game.

  31

  Diary of Maddox Doku

  Why the fuck would you volunteer for this? Nick asked me while shaking his head. You had actual air-con. Our vents don’t even work.

  I gave him a smile as the sweat poured down my face. Beats listening to Roy talking about bows, I said.

  The battle of Agincourt, Cookey said.

  The V’s! I said and stuck two fingers up and did my Roy impression of a flat nerd voice. Did you know that’s why we give people the V’s, Maddox? It was cool. It got some laughs.

  I wondered why you ran over to cover me, Booker said from next to me. I was like what the fuck is he doing?

  Nah bro. I saw you struggling, I said with a quick grin as the rest jeered while Booker gave me the middle finger. Cheers for covering me though, he said.

  Then I was like anytime and playing it cool and doing that thing Frank said about not wanting anything.

  I saw the chance when we stopped in Ashington and saw the dead bodies in the community centre. Everyone was really down, especially after Storrington. So then I was like, take the van and cool off to Paula. I said I’d jump in the Saxon. Bless you, she said, even Howie and Clarence said cheers and Marcy gave me her nice big smile.

  It felt good too. I liked the tactic Frank had suggested about being nice and playing the long game.

  Actually, I said a second later. It fucking stinks in here. Can I change my mind?

  Ha! Too late you cheeky cunt, Booker said with a laugh. But he wasn’t laughing at me this time. It was just normal banter. But man, that heat was something else. Even with the back doors open.

  You’ve got your seat back, Cookey then said with a smile at Charlie.

  Aw, you missing me? she asked. I could always come back over.

  Jesus. Get a room, Nick said as Charlie winked and Cookey shifted in his seat then laughed it off, but then I saw Charlie looking confused and wondered what the dynamics were. I figured they were going to hook up, but then I realised I’d been thinking that for ages, and it had never happened. Not that it was my business. My focus was on Booker and getting into his life.

  Paula

  What a relief it was to be in the van! Bless Maddox for thinking of it.

  Mind you. Although we had more room, it was still bloody baking. ‘Is that air-con on?’ I asked as I heard Roy talking to Clarence up front.

  ‘I felt it when we were up on that flat roof,’ Roy said as Clarence grunted in the front passenger seat. ‘Just a niggle in my left side, like down my arm and I thought to myself, Roy, this is it old chum, you’re having a stroke.’

  ‘Why is it so bloody hot in here? Is the air-con on?’ I asked, leaning through the hatch to see Roy smelling the air. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘He’s sniffing for toast,’ Clarence said, giving me a sideways look.

  ‘Oh god. I can. I can smell toast’

  ‘That’s cow shit you idiot,’ I said, pointing to a farm alongside before heading back into the rear and Marcy talking to Howie.

  ‘I’m just saying he was really good with that woman,’ Marcy said as Howie grumbled and shook his head. ‘Nobody else thought to turn her over.’

  ‘Roy would have thought of it,’ Howie said.

  ‘I probably wouldn’t,’ Roy called. ‘Not with my current medical condition.’

  ‘He thinks he’s having a stroke,’ I said to the blank looks.

  ‘And he got Carmen to give her plasma,’ Marcy added.

  ‘What about in the department store?’ Howie asked. ‘All that shit he said about us.’

  ‘Yeah but…’ Marcy started to say but fell silent.

  ‘What?’ I asked her.

  ‘I mean. Some of what he said kind of makes sense,’ Marcy said carefully. ‘Oh god, don’t start frothing at the mouth again, Howie. I’m on your side. Yes, he was out of order and you’re awesome and he’s a prick and blah blah, but, you know, to him I guess we do look like a bag of shit. And I did just sneeze on that man.’

  ‘So what? We just let Henry take charge then?’ Howie asked.

  ‘I’m not saying that,’ Marcy said. ‘I don’t know what I’m saying. I just mean one minute he’s a complete twat then he’s cool as anything...’

  ‘What?’ Howie asked at the way she trailed off. Reginald and I stayed silent, having already figured her point. Then a second later Howie figured it out too. ‘You can all fuck off,’ he said. ‘I’m nothing like Henry! What the actual fuck! Reggie, tell them I’m nothing like Henry.’

  ‘You’r
e nothing like Henry.’

  ‘See!’

  ‘Henry’s bald,’ Reginald added to a deep braying laugh coming from the front.

  Carmen

  So then we’re back in the vehicles and driving on with Henry having a rant at Frank.

  ‘They’re nothing like us, that’s for damn sure. They’re winging their way through the whole thing.’

  ‘My point is they are coping,’ Frank said. ‘And we’ve winged it enough times, Henry. Falklands? Bosnia? Kuwait? Northern Ireland? Africa? Want me to keep going?’

  Henry didn’t reply but did that thing and snorted air from his nose while tapping the air-con controls with a grimace at the warm air coming from the vents.

  ‘And when we met her in the back. Remember that? The Russian guys?’ Frank asked.

  ‘The Russian guys you shot you mean,’ Henry said.

  ‘Oi! Her in the back has a name,’ I said.

  ‘My point is, we’ve done our fair share of winging it,’ Frank said. ‘In fact, you always said we train so hard so that we can wing it.’

  ‘But we had training, Frank.’

  ‘Clarence was a Para,’ Frank said, shooting him a look. ‘We were Paras, Henry. Look what he did back there. And Blowers was a Marine, and they’ve had Dave with them. Do you remember Milo?’

  ‘Yes. I remember Milo,’ Henry said heavily.

  ‘Who was Milo? I asked.

  ‘Before your time,’ Frank said, glancing in the rear-view. ‘Lad in Bosnia. He was a pig farmer and didn’t know one end of a gun from the other.’

  ‘Stavi?’ I asked. ‘Is that his first name? He’s amazing.’

  ‘Stavi?’ Bashir asked, hearing the name.

  ‘Exactly,’ Frank said. ‘Even Bash has heard of Stavi.’

  ‘Stavi,’ Bashir said with a nod before reeling something off in his language.

  ‘Bash said Stavi was one of the best he worked with,’ Henry relayed.

  ‘I am assuming you trained this Milo Stavi?’ Joan asked as Henry turned to nod.

  ‘Pig farmer,’ Frank said at Henry rolling his eyes as we drove on