Edward’s proposed three-week stay had turned into three months. He and Elsie were inseparable. He even started helping around the hotel, doing his own work in the evenings via phone calls and emails. It had been the happiest time of Edward’s life and he had felt a change inside himself. A warmness had come over him; something that made him smile at strangers and giggle at the cheek of children, where before he would’ve been offended. It felt a lot like being happy. He’d always thought himself to be a happy person, but he knew now that he had been wrong his entire life. Being content was not the same as being happy.
But then business had called.
A large oil company offered Edward the job of rebranding them after a recent failure had tarnished their reputation. If successful, Edward stood to make a fortune. He could retire and live with Elsie. She could retire too. But Elsie did not want that.
She asked him to stay, to retire right then and run the hotel with her. He thought her mad. He had worked his whole life for an international campaign like this. The big jobs all went to the larger marketing conglomerates, but this oil firm wanted to go the ‘down to earth’ route and work with someone on the ground – an everyday person. It would be the culmination of Edward’s life work. He and Elsie could be set for the remainder of their lives. But she did not want to be kept. She had her own business and she would rather him be the one to be looked after. Edward could not accept that. He was a man. He could not just settle down and let a woman look after him. Edward looked after himself.
Angry, he had gone back to his empty flat in Croydon and got to work. Only a few days passed, though, before he began to mourn what he had left behind. The work wasn’t as fulfilling as it used to be. He missed Elsie. He had made a mistake.
Fortunately, one phone call was all it took to make things right again. Elsie forgave his abandonment of her and wished for him to return at once. And he was going to do just that. The oil company would have to find somebody else because Edward was putting his flat on the market and retiring to a cosy bed and breakfast with the woman he loved.
He was due to catch the ferry in less than two weeks, to begin his new life once and for all. Two weeks and he would be back with his beloved Elsie.
But it took only one week for the world to fall apart, and all thoughts of Elsie were replaced by the need to survive. When the dead rose, nobody got to keep their plans. Nobody got their promotions at work, wedding dates were forgotten, and distant lovers became unreachable. It all fell apart. In the ensuing chaos, Edward had been swept south to the coast. There, he and a handful of survivors sought the safety of the sea. John, a postal worker from Milton Keynes, had allowed Edward onto his pleasure cruiser and the two of them had eventually come upon the Kirkland. Back then the fleet had been their saviour, but John died soon after from an untreated infection he picked up after catching himself on a rusty rigging hook. Edward sailed alone after that, chatting rarely with the neighbouring boats and receiving his rations once a week. Then the Kirkland sank and he now lacked even those interactions.
Alone and hungry, Edward accepted that he was going to die soon. The world had ended a year ago and he was just a straggler. The apocalypse would swallow him up eventually. When it did, he intended to be on land in a place that he loved – the only place he ever felt at home, even if it had only been for a shot while.
The Isle of Man was just up ahead, looming on the horizon. He could make out Port St. Mary, his destination. Seeing the old fishing village immediately brought back memories. He remembered walking along the seafront with Elsie, hand in hand, and eating sandwiches at a little place called the Patchwork Café. He hoped it was still there. He could see no reason it wouldn’t be. People may be gone, but their memory still littered the land with its monuments. Now that humanity was almost extinct, even a mundane post box or cracked telephone booth took on a certain antique quality. They were relics, no different to the scattered spearheads of Romans or the cracked vases of the Egyptians. The scattered iPhones of modern man.
Even the boats of the harbour glinted in the dying sunlight like ethereal monuments to mankind. From two miles out, Port St. Mary seemed no different than the last time he had seen it. In fact I can still see the hustle and bustle. The boats manoeuvring around each other and old men fishing from the sea barriers. I’ve been alone too long. I am imagining things…
But the more Edward squinted, the more he could see that he was not imagining things. The boats in the harbour were indeed moving. The harbour walls were indeed lined with fishermen. The bay was alive with life.
Impossible.
When Edward sailed into the harbour, men and women on other boats began to wave and whistle. As he got closer still, they shouted out to him. They asked for news, they welcomed him, they asked his name, they told him jokes. Edward tried to shout replies to all of them, but he was overwhelmed. He reached the nearest jetty and threw out the mooring rope. Immediately a man and two young boys grabbed it and tied it to a hook. Then they helped him aboard.
Edward’s knees were shaking as he stepped foot on solid ground for the first time in a year. He felt like he was going to throw up, although he had not eaten since yesterday.
“Hello there, friend. It’s good to see a new face. Tell you the truth most of us never expected to see one again.”
Edward eyed the father of the two sons and tried to speak. Eventually he had to force the words out of his mouth. “Y-you’re all alive! How…how…?”
“The infection never made it here,” the man explained, understanding what Edward was trying to ask. “There were three or four cases brought by a couple of overseas couriers but they were quarantined before they could infect anyone else. We’re safe here. We know what happened on the mainland, but there’s been no danger here since it all started.” The man placed his hand on Edward’s shoulder. “It’s safe here.”
Edward started to cry. There were no words to express how he was feeling. The veil of doom that had clung over him for an entire year had lifted and safe and ordinary people once again surrounded him. He didn’t realise how much he’d missed ‘ordinary’. He wept so hard that he shook.
The other man went so far as to give Edward a hug. As he squeezed his shoulders, he said, “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, friend. Have you been out there on the sea this whole time?” Edward nodded against the man’s chest. “My God, and to think we’ve all been here, safe and sound the whole time. We’ve tried sending out messages, tried to let people know we’re here, but we haven’t seen anyone new in over six months. We assumed we were all that was left.”
Edward pushed away from the man all of a sudden. In all of his emotion, he’d forgotten why he was here in the first place. “Elsie!”
“I’m sorry?” said the man.
“I need to go to the bed and breakfast.”
“Which one.”
“I…I just need to go.”
The man chuckled with confusion. “Sure, let’s get you settled and safe. I’m sure you could use some food.”
“I don’t need food,” said Edward. He ran up the stone steps in front of him, heading up into the village above. When he reached the top, there were three-dozen people standing in the street watching him. None of them seemed threatening, but their stares made him feel like some sort of alien. He turned left, turned right, tried to get his bearings. As much as he had dreamt of the village and the bed and breakfast, he did not recognise where to go.
But then he saw her.
Elsie was standing in the street, clutching a basket of firewood and staring at him with wide eyes. She’s keeping the fires lit. She knows I love them.
Edward took a step towards her. “I’ve come back,” he shouted over to her. “I was a fool for leaving, but I came back for you.”
Elsie stared at him a moment longer, but then she smiled, more beautiful than ever. He realised then that she was standing in front of the Patchwork Café. Suddenly the village felt familiar again. He was home.
T
hey ran towards each other, meeting in the middle of the street and kissing while three-dozen strangers cheered them on. Edward was finally going to get to retire.
PATIENT ZULU
Davie was tired, weary, and pretty damned pissy. His feet were sore, his head ached, and dust irritated his eyes. Months of walking, avoiding the dead, and half-starving had been no picnic. But he could not stop. He had a mission and stopping was not an option.
Rebecca was suffering too, although she would never admit to it. She was a doer, not a talker. She was a lot like her father had been, someone who did what they had to do, no matter what. Rebecca’s father had been a great man, but if he were alive to see his daughter, he would be proud.
“We should rest up for a while,” Davie said. He tried to make it sound like he was being chivalrous, but the truth was that he was going to keel over if he didn’t get to sit down for at least twenty minutes.
Rebecca glanced around. They had stuck to farmlands and fields. It was easy to see the dead coming in the countryside and livestock fences kept most of them at bay. They had made it all the way from the outskirts of Birmingham to forty miles past the Scottish border in a little over three months. Most days they woke at dawn and marched until nightfall. It was unsafe to travel in the dark, so they usually looked for somewhere safe to haul up an hour or two before dusk. So far that afternoon they had found nowhere suitable. Scotland was a lot sparser than England was.
“You want to just stop, here in the field?” she asked. She didn’t sound against the idea, but Rebecca was naturally cautious.
Davie shrugged. “I think it’ll be fine. We’re surrounded by fields on all sides for miles. The only danger is the woods up ahead but it’s far away enough to see anything coming.”
Rebecca unslung her backpack and sat down on the ground. “Let’s catch a breath then.”
Davie pretty much fell to the ground so much as he sat. Immediately he took off his hiking boots and socks and shoved his bare feet into the cold wet grass. He sighed with delight.
Rebecca rolled her eyes and laughed. “I can carry you the rest of the way if you’d like?”
“I’m fine. I just need a minute.”
“We may as well camp here. It will be dark soon enough and I don’t think we’re going to find anything today. Where on earth are we, anyway?”
Davie shrugged. “I have no idea. All I know is we’re going north.” Davie had swiped a compass from a hiking shop. He’d also taken full hiking gear, backpacks, and a mean-looking knife. Davie didn’t like knives, not since an incident in his childhood involving his older brother, Frankie, but the need for one was too great. The dead were everywhere in the cities and they could pop out in the countryside, too, from time to time.
Rebecca reached into her backpack and brought out a bottle of water. She swigged from it and handed it to Davie. He took it and finished it off, gasping. “How are we doing for supplies?” he asked.
Rebecca nodded. “We’re doing okay. That supermarket in Carlisle saw us good for a few days more.”
Davie was glad to hear it. They had been surviving on loot since they’d left their safe house in Birmingham, raiding supermarkets, garages, and houses. But each time they went looking for food, they faced danger. The dead hung around where people used to. That was also where most of the food was. The supermarket in Carlisle had been full of stray dogs and crawling dead, half-eaten by the hounds. It had been a hairy twenty minutes while they rushed round with their backpacks open, shoving in whatever hadn’t spoiled or been eaten by the dogs.
“You think we’ll ever get there?” asked Rebecca. “It feels like we’ve been travelling all our lives. I mean, I’m kind of enjoying the journey, after being stuffed up in that laundrette for months, but I guess it’s hard to imagine ever reaching the end.”
Davie wouldn’t doubt that they would reach Edinburgh. He couldn’t doubt it. It was the only thing keeping him going. “I’ll get you there,” he said. “I owe you.”
Rebecca sighed. “You don’t owe me anything.”
Davie disagreed. Ten years ago, he had been a fourteen year-old boy. Ten years ago he had an older brother named Frankie. Frankie had terrorised Rebecca’s family and ruined her life. Davie had tried to help her in the end, but first he had stood by while his brother took everything from her and her family. After the incident was over, with Davie’s brother dead, Rebecca’s father had become a politician, working against thugs like Frankie. Eventually Rebecca had followed in his footsteps and had been close to becoming the mayor of Solihull when the dead had risen. Davie had been her PA, after having sought her out to make amends for what he and his brother had inflicted upon her. She had welcomed him gladly and used his background and experience of disillusioned youth to connect with the younger voters. The two of them had quickly become friends and Davie was able to bury a great many demons from his past. Her forgiveness had saved him.
“I do owe you,” he said. “I’m going to get you to Edinburgh. I promise.”
Rebecca leaned over and patted his knee. She was beautiful, even covered in dirt and sweat. Davie often thought about kissing her, but knew that it would be a distraction. He would get her to her destination and then perhaps he could look towards better days, days where love and romance were possible once again. If we get where we’re going, we might just have a chance. Everything is riding on what we’ll find at the end of our journey.
Within the hour, Rebecca had lain down and fallen asleep. It was easy to sleep in the new world. Everywhere was so silent. After sitting and watching her for a while, Davie lay down beside her and closed his eyes as well.
He woke up to the dead all around him. It was dawn; a whole night had passed in the blink of an eye. Somehow the dead were nearby. They stumbled in the distance, heading through the fields towards him and Rebecca.
Rebecca was already sat up, awoken by the undead moaning. “What the hell?” she said. “How did they know we were here?”
Clatter clatter clatter.
Davie looked off into the distance. It was the sound of gunfire, far distant but coming from the north. “It wasn’t us,” he said. “Someone is fighting.”
“The Army?”
Davie shrugged. “Maybe. Come on. We have to get out of here.”
Rebecca nodded. The two of them gathered up their things as quickly as they could and got moving. The dead were still a quarter of a mile back, but they had a way of gaining on you. They never got tired and never had to stop for breath.
“Where should we go?” Rebecca asked, looking left and right.
Davie sighed. It sounded like a bad idea when he said it, but his answer was, “Towards the gunfire.” They hadn’t seen other people in months, but if they had any hope of reaching their destination, they would need to find a group of survivors who knew the way.
Rebecca looked unsure of herself, but nodded. She was always brave, always willing to do what needed to be done. The two of them set off across the fields, heading towards the gunfire. A thick forest a mile away prevented them from seeing the source of the noise, but Davie assumed there was some settlement or village beyond the trees. I just hope they’re friendly. I can’t let anything happen to Rebecca. She’s the only hope we have. Not only as a leader, but…
Rebecca screamed and tripped. Davie reached out to her just in time to see a dead man take a bite out of her ankle. The legless man had been crawling in the long grass. Rebecca cried out in pain and fell to the ground, clutching at her bleeding wound. Davie pulled out his knife and stabbed it down into the zombie’s soft skull.
He helped her back to her feet. “Can you walk?”
She pulled herself up and nodded. “Better than that. I can run. Come on!”
The two of them set off again. Davie looked back and saw the pursuing dead men fade into the distance. They would keep coming in this direction, but if they could stay ahead of them, they would be alright. As long as whoever has the guns doesn’t decide to shoot me and take Rebecca.
They reached the treeline and headed into the woods. They were both disgusted to find a dead woman tangled up in barbed wire beside a sign that read: PRIVATE PROPERTY, but they avoided her pawing fingernails and kept on running. Wildlife scurried and fled into bushes as they stomped their way through the weeds. The gunfire continued in the distance but was dying out, coming to an end. Davie and Rebecca picked up speed as much as they could, but Rebecca struggled with her bleeding ankle.
Eventually the other end of the short forest opened up and they suddenly found themselves at a small train station. The sign had long grown over with vines, but an old train stood abandoned on its tracks. Davie grabbed Rebecca and stopped her. “Careful,” he said. “We don’t know what to expect.”
The one thing they did not expect was for the train to start moving. Davie hadn’t noticed it was a steam train, but he heard the whistle and saw the smoke.
Rebecca staggered in surprise. “Yikes!”
Davie did the first thing that came to his mind. He waved his arms and shouted. “Hey! Hey! Don’t leave.”
The train continued, picking up speed.
“No! Don’t leave.”
The brakes went on and the wheels screeched against the tracks. The train lurched forward and came to a stop. A hundred armed men jumped off and aimed their rifles at them Davie and Rebecca.
“Oh, crikey,” said Rebecca. “I’m not sure they’re taking anybody without a ticket.”
“Who are you?” shouted an older man with a great white moustache, marching towards them. He was dressed in army camouflage and carried a large shotgun on his hip.
The BIG Horror Pack 2 Page 63
