Blog of the Dead - Life

by Lisa Richardson

  An HZ charged at me and swung a crowbar at my head. I ducked and the HZ sailed past. I kicked the HZ in the arse and it fell onto its stomach. I launched myself onto its back, yanked the crowbar from its hand and smashed it down onto the back of its head. I jumped to my feet, holding the crowbar before me in both hands like a prize – now I was in business.

  Misfit used his bare hands to snap the neck of an HZ. He punched another out of the way, before weaving his way over to me. ‘You OK?’ he asked.

  ‘I am now,’ I said using my prize to brain an HZ.

  I saw Clay, his bare fists flying into HZs’ heads, one punch leaving them out cold. Charlotte was on her back on the floor with two HZs holding her down by the arms while another straddled her lower body. She bucked and writhed under the weight of the HZs but she couldn’t shake them off. The one on top of her raised a knife – my knife – ready to bring it down into her heart, when Ella pulled away from Kelly and toddled towards the HZ. Ella raised a tiny foot and began kicking the HZ in its side. The HZ turned. But before it could swing its knife at the little girl, Kelly heaved herself to her feet. With her arms still tied behind her back, she ran at the HZ and kicked it in the stomach. The HZ flew backwards, releasing Charlotte’s legs.

  Charlotte was now able to swing her legs over her head, performing a backwards roll that twisted her arms free of the other two HZs. As she pinged up on her knees, she brought both fists up and into their faces, knocking them onto their backs. As Kelly guided Ella back to the wall to shield her from the fight, Charlotte sprang to her feet and stamped on the HZs’ heads in turn before the stunned creatures had time to move.

  Flick hauled herself to her feet and kicked at the HZs that came near, keeping them back from the other captives as best she could. I noticed one of the HZs trying to work out how to turn on a chainsaw. It was so preoccupied jabbing buttons that it didn’t notice Kay walk up behind it and slam the side of her flat hand into the back of its neck in a karate style chop. She wrestled the chainsaw from the stunned HZ’s hands before pulling and pressing and yanking various parts of the machine until it buzzed into life. As she drove the chainsaw into the HZ’s head, the buzz became louder as the saw worked its way through bone.

  The HZ with the other chainsaw watched Kay like a rookie. It followed her lead by pulling, pressing and yanking machine parts in the same sequence to bring its chainsaw to life. It grinned and raised the chainsaw high above its head in triumph but the weight of the motor caused the HZ to lose control of the machine. I watched with grim fascination as the blade overbalanced and swung down into the HZ’s face. Blood and brain jettisoned from the thick, jagged wound and the HZ, now pretty much headless, slumped to the floor.

  I saw Chris plough through the crowd of HZs, using his shoulder to knock them out of the way. He carefully lifted the chainsaw from the pool of HZ on the ground and he swung it up and into the head of another one, buzzing clean through it. Chris used the chainsaw to clear a path to Soph, who was doing her best to dodge the HZs around her, and he thrust the machine, rear handle first, towards her. Soph grabbed it by the handle arm and charged at the HZs.

  As I swung the crowbar into HZs’ heads, I saw Misfit ducking and weaving in front of an HZ to avoid the blade it jabbed at him. Before I had chance to head over and whack it, I saw the HZ strike out with the blade. Misfit sidestepped, grasped its outstretched arm, pulled its wrist in a direction it really shouldn’t go and made a grab for the knife as the HZ released it. Misfit drove the blade into the HZ’s throat and allowed the body to slide from the blade and slump to the floor before he set upon the next HZ.

  I saw Chris and Sam weave their way through the carnage towards the back of the room and the captives. But, before they could get there, an HZ dived on Sam’s back, knocking him to the floor on his stomach. At the same time, an HZ thrust its knife at Chris. He dodged but not fast enough and the blade slid into his left shoulder, just under his collar bone. Chris steadied himself and wrapped his hand around the HZ’s wrist, stopping it from pulling the blade out. He elbowed the HZ in the face, and it staggered back, losing its grip on the knife. Chris pulled the blade free with his right hand, grimacing as he did so, and stabbed the HZ in the face.

  As the HZ on Sam’s back bit into the side of his neck, causing him to cry out, Chris leapt on it, gripped its wild hair in his left hand and ran the blade of the knife along its throat. As the HZ went slack, Chris pushed it off Sam. He pulled Sam to his feet and the pair of them darted towards the captives, where they set about helping Shane to untie them.

  In the frenzy of the attack, I had lost sight of Sean. But, with only a few HZs remaining, I spotted him near the door to the corridor. Sean had one hand around Marco’s bloody throat, leaning over him while Marco lay on his back on the floor. ‘You bastard, she was my kid sister!’ yelled Sean as he punched Marco in the jaw with his right fist. ‘You twisted motherfucking cunt!’ He punched Marco again.

  I could see from Marco’s reactions he was weak from blood loss from where Sara had bitten him, but he managed to swing his arm up and embed his knife in Sean’s chest. As Sean slid down to his knees, Marco crawled from beneath him and dragged his body out of the door. He disappeared down the corridor.

  ‘Sean!’ I yelled as I darted towards him.

  Sean had his back to me, but I saw him pull the knife from his chest and toss it across the room, the bandage on his right hand now soaked with fresh blood. He hauled himself to his feet and staggered after Marco. Sean collapsed against the door frame, but managed to stay on his feet and he pushed himself forwards, through the doorway where I lost sight of him.

  I darted across the bloodstained bowls rink after Sean. I reached the door to see Marco laying on his side at the other end of the corridor, just short of the first set of double doors. Sean kicked him repeatedly in the stomach. Marco coughed up blood onto the pink tiles but still Sean didn’t stop pounding him, until Marco no longer had the strength to move. Sean kicked Marco over onto his back and brought his foot down onto his throat. I heard a crunch, before Sean sunk to his knees.

  ‘Sean,’ I said, as I ran down the corridor towards him. I had almost reached him when I saw Marco, his skin pale and his cheeks hollow, sit up. ‘Sean, look out!’

  I darted towards Marco, the crowbar raised. Sean put his arm out instinctively to push Zombie-Marco away but, weak from his injury, he couldn’t hold him off. Marco sank his teeth into Sean’s forearm. Sean yelled out and punched Marco in the side of his head with his right fist. Marco yanked his head back, a chunk of Sean’s flesh in his mouth. I loomed over Marco, my feet either side of his body, and I smashed the crowbar down on his head, again and again. Even after he fell back onto the floor, I still pounded his head until there was nothing left other than a mush that resembled cat sick on the carpet tiles.

  I turned to Sean as he slumped back against the wall, holding the wound on his forearm with his right hand. ‘Me next,’ he said.

  ‘Sean … I –’

  ‘Sean!’ We both turned at the sound of Kay’s voice at the other end of the corridor. She bolted down towards us. ‘Sean are you …’ She stood, bloody chainsaw in hand, and stared down at Marco, then at Sean’s arm as he lifted his fingers to reveal the bite. ‘No. No, not you,’ she said, her voice cracking. She collapsed onto her knees in front of him, the chainsaw forgotten at her side. Sean managed to shuffle forwards and Kay hugged him to her chest as she sobbed. ‘Not you.’

  ‘It was fun while it lasted, kiddo,’ said Sean as he pulled away from her and looked her in the eye. ‘But you walked in on a little engagement me and Sophie had … something to do with a crowbar between my eyes.’

  ‘I-I don’t … think I-I can,’ I said between sobs.

  Kay rose to her feet. ‘Cos you’re a bloody useless fucktard,’ she said, trying to keep her voice level.

  She walked around to stand behind Sean. I heard the chainsaw buzz into life but I looked away. With my hand over my mouth to hold back my sobs, I turned an
d stared at the bloody hand prints on the wall … anything being better than what was happening behind me. The buzz of the chainsaw grew louder for a moment and then it cut out to be replaced by Kay’s screams.

  Entry Thirty-Two

  I sat at a long kitchen table, my elbows resting on wood that had been etched with years of family meals and craft times with the kids, with my chin resting on my hands. I watched Kay sitting on a window seat built into the large bay window that overlooked the front garden. She had her knees drawn up, her arms hugging them to her chest as she watched rain hit the windowpane. She had a fresh dressing on the wound on her neck.

  Kay hadn’t spoken a word since Sean died. Immediately after, she threw the chainsaw against the wall and sunk down to her knees, and screamed with her hands over her face. I crouched down beside her and put my arms around her as the others gathered in the doorway to see what the noise was. With all the HZs dead, Misfit helped me guide Kay from the building and place her in the back of the Mazda. She sat rigidly, staring at some fixed point outside the window, while Misfit went to hotwire a car from the car park so we had enough vehicles to get everyone out of there. It took him a few goes to find one without a flat battery.

  I saw Flick stagger from the building, bruised and dazed, and holding her shotgun, retrieved from wherever Marco had stashed the confiscated weapon. I walked over to her and wrapped my arms around her. ‘She’s gone,’ she said as she hugged me back. Her body shook with sobs.

  ‘I know,’ I said, tears spilling from my cheeks onto the shoulder of Flick’s jumper. ‘I know.’

  We found a large house on Harbour Way with a brick wall around its entire perimeter. It had five bedrooms as well as an office on the top floor of the four story building; not ideal for a family of eighteen but we’d been through worse and bunking up didn’t bother any of us. Derek and Dolly had gone to bed in what must have been a guest bedroom because other than a bed and a chest of draws, the room was empty of any personal belongings. Kelly and Char had gone to settle the young children in one of the other bedrooms, and Flick had shut herself in the office, wanting some time alone to remember Sara.

  Soph had found a very well stocked first aid kit in the bathroom and was just finishing dressing the stab wound on Chris’s shoulder, while Charlotte patched up the bite on the back of Sam’s neck. Chris sat opposite me at the table, Soph standing behind him. He grimaced as she secured the bandage she’d wrapped around his upper body. ‘You’ll live,’ she said, taking a seat next to Chris. She immediately blanched and flicked her eyes towards Kay, but Kay didn’t show any signs she’d even heard her.

  At the sound of the front door opening, I turned my attention through the open kitchen door and into the hallway where I saw Misfit, Shane and Clay enter the house. They each carried a large Sainsbury’s shopping bag. Misfit was the first into the kitchen, his hair wet from the rain that had started shortly after we arrived at the house. He looked exhausted and his expression grim, like a doctor who’d just had to tell someone a loved one had died. I stood and walked over to him. ‘How’d it go?’ I asked.

  He placed the shopping bag on the floor. ‘We got the bodies. They’re in the back of the van, and we picked up some supplies from Sainsbury’s. Enough to keep everyone going for a few days,’ he said.

  ‘I’m going for a cigarette,’ I said. I shot off towards the utility room at the rear of the kitchen and out through the back door. I stood on the lawn, patches of grass now visible as the rain washed the snow away, and pulled my baccy from my pocket. I held a cigarette paper in the fingers of one hand, trying to shield it from the rain with the plastic baccy pouch as I dropped tobacco onto it, but my fingers shook so much that clumps of tobacco ended up on the ground. More fell than actually went in. Frustrated, I threw the pouch and cigarette paper on the ground and hugged my body as I began to sob, my shoulders heaving up and down.

  ‘You OK?’ I turned to see Misfit standing in the doorway. He stepped outside and walked over to me.

  ‘This is all so fucked up,’ I said as I tried to control my breathing. ‘Death has got so commonplace that the bodies of our dead friends can be mentioned in the same sentence as food. It makes me sick to my stomach.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Misfit, stopping directly in font of me. He chewed his lip ring for a moment then added, ‘I wasn’t thinking.’

  ‘No. No, it wasn’t you. It’s this messed up world we live in. What are we supposed to do?’

  Misfit placed his hands against my cheeks and lifted my head, forcing me to look into his eyes. ‘We have to keep moving forwards,’ he said, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and hugging me to his body.

  We stayed like that, the rain soaking us until I pulled myself back a little so I could see his face. The edges of the scab on his forehead had begun to peel away to reveal fresh new skin below. ‘I’ve been thinking this evening,’ I said. ‘Too much has happened in this place. I don’t want to be here any more.’

  ‘What, in Folkestone?’

  ‘Yeah. There are too many bad memories. Too many friends lost. I can’t see any future here.’

  ‘Where do you want to go?’

  ‘I want to go to Wales to find my friend Shelby,’ I said.

  ‘What, the one that reminded you of Sara?’

  ‘Yeah. It’s a long shot, she might have gone by now but I have to try,’ I said. ‘If she has the ability to recover anywhere close to how much Sara recovered she needs to be found and protected. Misfit, will you come to Wales with me?’

  Misfit grinned. ‘Sophie, I’d go to the fucking moon with you if you wanted to go.’

  I smiled back at him. ‘Tomorrow. We leave tomorrow,’ I said, my eyes boring into his dark brown ones. Then my eyes flicked down to his lips as he leaned his head forwards towards mine. Not here. Not now. ‘There’s one thing I need to do before we go,’ I said, placing the palm of my hand on his chest. Without waiting for Misfit to respond, I walked back to the house, leaving him in the rain.

  Entry Thirty-Three

  Early the next morning, before anyone else was awake, I crept up to the office on the top floor. Flick was asleep on a big leather armchair in the corner by the window. The swelling had gone down around her eye but she had a vivid purple bruise both under the eye and across her eyelid. I gently shook her shoulder. ‘Shhh,’ I said when she opened her eyes.

  Flick sat up and looked at me. ‘Sophie, what is it?’

  ‘I need to ask you something and I need you not to ask me why I’m asking.’

  ‘It’s a bit early for this,’ said Flick. ‘Can we start again.’

  ‘I don’t want anyone to know.’

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘Flick, can I borrow your shotgun for a little while?’ Flick opened her mouth to speak but I carried on. ‘I know asking someone to borrow their weapon is a bit like asking to borrow their toothbrush but I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t really important.’

  ‘And you can’t tell me what you want it for.’ It was a statement and not a question. ‘Go on,’ said Flick.

  ‘Thank you.’ I picked the shotgun up from where it rested against the wall by the armchair. ‘You haven’t seen me,’ I said and headed for the door. I scurried downstairs to the front door and opened it slowly and quietly and slipped outside.

  The rain had stopped and the morning was clear and bright. Most of the snow had been washed away during the night, apart from some thicker patches where it had drifted up against cars and the sides of buildings. I jogged down towards the harbour, managing to weave my way through the occasional zombie. In the harbour itself, a group of about seven zombies staggered in the road by the car park and I had to stop and fight my way through them with my knife before I could carry on. I made it to the steps by the old abandoned pub. I darted up them two at a time until I came to the door to the pub’s backyard. I jumped down the step, slipping on the wet, muddy ground and walked over to the railings around the cellar.

  I peered down but couldn’t see any
thing in the gloom. ‘Sam!’ His face appeared out of the darkness, gaunt and pale, his arms reaching up for me. For a moment I just stood there and watched him, my heart aching. I tried to remember him as he was, young, fit, gorgeous … that floppy brown hair and his piercing but kind green eyes. I wanted to remember the good times – it was hard because most of our relationship had taken place during the apocalypse. Before, he’d been Sleazy Sam the womaniser, someone I knew but didn’t know; someone I lived with but didn’t share my life with. Our bond had formed and grown during the time we had faced death everyday, and we had managed to smile and even laugh. We had enjoyed each other. I had loved our alone moments, sitting in the Martello tower. Looking out across the sea, it had been possible to believe there were no zombies, only endless possibilities.

  I watched Zombie-Sam as he swiped at the air above his head, groping for me, wanting me but not in the way he used to. I thought I’d trapped him to try and save him but I realised I had only done it for selfish reasons – because I couldn’t let go. Flick had been right, I couldn’t help Sam. There would be no cure. I was insisting on keeping the life support machine running even though he was brain dead.

  I clenched my jaws together to stifle a sob. I closed my eyes to hold back the tears. I heard Sam groan. I opened my eyes and stared down at him. I didn’t have to do this. I could leave him – maybe he could be helped one day … maybe? Sam snarled me. ‘Sam,’ I said to him, my voice breaking, ‘what would you want? Would you want the chance to come back even if it meant you were never fully you again? If you had to make do with the mental abilities of a child?’ He snarled at me again. ‘That’s what I thought.’ With tears rolling down my cheeks, I lowered the muzzle of the gun. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. I aimed and fired at his head.