Jack peered out through the slats again. His breathing still fast and erratic.
“Daddy,” said Annie, her voice quiet and tentative, as if sounding out a wild animal.
“What? Stay quiet. They’re here,” said Jack.
Moaning and hissing from outside. A few thumps on the outside of the chalet.
Mac felt the weight of his bat in his hand. He and Jack should be outside, fighting them. No, he and Ellie should be outside. He couldn’t trust Jack. But could he trust Jack to look after the kids?
It would have to be Mac on his own.
“Jack, I’ll go take care of them,” he said.
Jack, his back to the room, his face glued to the window snapped his hand into the air, “Wait…”
“What?”
“Peter, and Mary… What’re they doing?”
A sound of shouting from outside.
Ellie jumped up. “What’s going on, Jack?”
No response.
Mac ran to the door.
“What are you doing?” Jack grabbed the door handle. Mac tried to push him out of the way, but he was surprisingly strong.
“Get out of the way!” shouted Mac.
“Daddy!” cried Annie.
Ellie grabbed Jack and pulled him from the door. Their combined strength dislodged him, and Mac pulled the door open. He was met with a scream from outside.
Several zombies in the gap between the two chalets. Mary, her white hair dashed with red stood back against the chalet, a baseball bat held loosely in her hand.
Peter was up against the wall, his neck being mauled by two zombies. Blood like a garden hose spraying from his torn artery. His arms flailed at his side like dying eels as his blood drained like a spigot.
Mac ran into the fray. He edged around to get to the zombies nearest Mary first. She stood and screamed. He raised his bat and took out the nearest two. Bang, crush. Gone.
Ellie was beside him, she swung her bat.
A minute, two minutes, Mac didn’t know. Instinct and will to survive took over. Warm blood covered him. Organs, pieces of flesh. The moaning and the hissing and the clicking faded.
Suddenly, everything was over. Mac's heart hammered against his ribcage. Mary was leaning down by her dead husband. The sound of Eddy crying from the chalet. The door was closed.
“You ok?” said Mac to Ellie. She was standing next to him, breathing heavily, in the midst of the bodies on the floor.
She nodded. “Where’s Eddy? Jack?”
Mac looked around, not here. Just dead bodies. Blood everywhere. Guts, body organs, parts. Mary, crying. Peter’s dead body.
Not quite dead. Shit.
“Where the fuck is Jack?” shouted Ellie. She turned and ran to the chalet door. She rattled the handle. “It’s locked! He’s locked the fucking door!”
She started to shoulder barge the door. Eddy could be heard crying inside. “Open the fucking door Jack, open the door you stupid prick!”
Mac glanced at Peter’s dead body, Mary leaning over him. “Hang on Ellie,” he joined her at the door of the chalet. Yes, locked. He barged it with his shoulder. It gave way slightly. Another push. The door collapsed, the lock splintered and Mac fell in. Ellie pushed past him, into the lounge, where Eddy was sitting on the couch, alone, crying. She picked him up, crying herself. “I'm sorry baby, I’m here, Eddy, mummy’s here.”
Mac heard more crying. He followed the sound to Jack and Annie’s room. The door was closed. He opened it. Jack was in the corner of the room, on the floor, curled up with Annie in his arms. Jack rocked backward and forwards, crying.
“We can’t stop them, Mac,” he said.
Ellie burst past Mac. “You stupid bastard, Jack, you left Eddy on the couch, and locked the fucking door, I should-”
Mac grabbed her arm, “Ellie, Ellie! Don’t, wait, come on, leave it.”
She stared at Mac, and for a moment he thought she was going to swing at him. If she did, he would take it.
She looked at Jack again, then left the room.
“You ok, Annie?” said Mac.
The little girl nodded, her blonde buff of hair moving slightly against her Dad’s chest.
Mac stepped into the room, and half-whispered to Jack, “You need to get it together, pal. Look, I know you got your issues. We all have. Just get it together, pal. For her sake.”
Mac left the room and closed it behind him.
A scream from outside.
Mac ran back out of the chalet. Peter, now animated, was ripping his wife's neck open. Blood poured down her white dress. Her body convulsed, twitched like it was hooked up to the mains. She still held her arms around her dead husband. She looked at Mac, her eyes blank, lost. She knew what she was doing. This was what she wanted.
Mac waited for Mary's body to stop moving.
The couple had treated them to dinner two nights ago. A rabbit that Peter had caught. It hadn’t been much, and the sinewy flesh hadn’t gone far, but the nourishment of company had filled him better than any meal.
Mary went still.
Mac walked over slowly. Peter writhed and hissed under his wife’s body. Mac brought his bat down on his head.
When he’d finished with Peter, he finished Mary. She wouldn’t come back.
Chapter 13
The drive back from the headland where Andy had first seen the approaching swarm, was fast, dangerous and quick. As they approached the holiday park, he held the wheel with one hand and fumbled with the radio in the other. “Ash, meet me at the gates… Just get there now!” He dropped the radio on the floor of the truck.
Andy pulled hard at the wheel, and they screeched into the holiday park. He counted four pillars of grey and tumbling smoke reaching into the sky.
“What the fuck?” said Lucy, her voice trailing off, a small shake in her final syllables.
The first zombie they saw was wandering in the middle of the road just past the open gates.
“That’s Cheung,” said Andy, pointing at the disheveled figure with a massive gash in his leg. He was, or used to be, one of the men who manned the gates.
Ash appeared from the side of the road. She swung at Cheung’s head with her baseball bat, and his skull shattered in a cloud of red.
“That’s my girl,” said Andy under his breath as he pulled to a stop. Ash jumped into the cab. Andy started driving again.
“Things are going south quickly,” said Ash.
They pulled the corner, and they all gasped. The scene that met them reminded Andy of the early days of the Fall. A running battle, no telling who was human, who wasn’t. People running, standing still, crying. Blood stains and entrails cast across the floor like modern art.
Screaming. A lot of screaming.
Andy pulled the truck to a stop.
“What now?” said Mark.
Lucy began to mumble. Incoherent.
“We have to try and help,” said Ash. “There’s plenty of us in there, amongst that lot.”
A part of Andy wanted to turn the truck and put his foot down. Drive as fast as they could away from here. It looked like the holiday park was lost.
But he didn’t want to lose it. Not yet, not without a fight. They had all worked so hard. His eyes were drawn back to the sports hall.
“What time is it?” he said.
“Just past twelve,” said Ash.
“The school. All the kids will be in the sports hall.”
“We can’t go through that lot,” said Lucy.
“No, Andy’s right,” said Ash. “We go to the school.”
“No,” said Lucy. Then she shouted. “No! No fucking way, let me out! There’s too many!”
“Lucy!” shouted Mark as Lucy pushed open the door. She jumped onto the tarmac and ran back the way they had come. Mark jumped out after her. No hesitation, noted Andy. At least he was loyal.
“Shall we go after them?” said Andy, already knowing the answer.
“Just drive,” said Ash. He smiled and put his foot on the acce
lerator, driving around the edge of the fight. They attracted attention, some of the dead peeling from the main fray to stumble uselessly after them.
A fire raged from the sports hall entrance. Entry or exit was impossible. “Let’s try around the back,” said Andy. “We can try the fire doors.”
The fire doors were closed. No smoke from underneath through.
A group of zombies ambled around the corner. They saw the truck. Andy counted five. No problem.
“Quick, to the doors,” said Ash.
Andy lined up the truck before the doors. He revved the engine. “Hold on,” he said. He brought the truck forward slowly and pushed against the doors. The doors moved slowly, then gave way with a bang. He nudged the front of the truck into the sports hall.
“Get ready to go,” said Andy, jumping from the truck as Ash slipped into the driver’s seat.
Andy ran into the sports hall.
A hundred or so people in the middle of the hall. Mostly kids, but some adults. All eyes on Andy. God knows what they thought as the door was caving in. A shit load of zombies coming, probably.
“Come on,” he shouted, waving his arm. “This way, we need to go, now.”
They looked at each other uncertainly, then one young woman stood up. It was Harriet. Adam stood beside her. They ran towards the door. Others followed suit.
A loud horn burst from the truck.
Andy ran to the truck. Ash had reversed it to completely block the fire doors, pinning the truck’s doors closed. She smashed the windscreen with a hammer.
“Ash? What the…”
Harriet ran to join Andy. “Are we getting out of here or what?” she said.
“Change of plan,” said Ash, climbing through the windscreen. “We’ve got some new friends outside.”
“How many?” said Andy.
“Too many,” said Ash.
Mac and Ellie, standing outside in the rain, looked down at the bodies of the dead couple. Peter and Mary, the same age as him and Angie. Mac had been with Angie for nearly forty years. Most of his life. They had shared so much, all the joy and sorrow a life could muster. He pulled out the only picture he had of Angie. When the fire, three months after the Fall, had burnt their pub down taking Angie with it, he hadn’t been able to save anything. This photo had been in his wallet. He cursed the rain as it wet the picture. He quickly wiped it and placed it back in his pocket.
He was crying.
“Ya daft old bugger.”
Ellie made her way back to the chalet door, "Come on Mac," she said softly.
Mac looked up at the sky, opened his eyes. It was something people never did, look up at the sky to watch the rain fall. Thick drops of water, from impossibly high, carried with them the promise of life. Such tiny, inconsequential drips by themselves, but together able to sheer mountains and carve the Earth.
He knew Angie was watching him. He smiled. “You’re still there, aren’t you love? Telling me what a silly old fool I am.”
A split second was all it took. The quick and rough sinking of the teeth. Pain like being crushed in a vice. Then the feeling of skin bursting, breaking under the weight of so many blunt tiny enamel knives. Mac pulled in a sharp gasp of air. He yanked his shoulder away, but the body attached to the biting head came with it. He didn’t scream. Of that he was glad - the old dead bastards hadn’t made Mac scream.
Mac pulled at the zombies head, pulling it away from his shoulder. He felt his skin stretch and pull. The pain was excruciating, but he continued. He wasn’t going to go now. Not just yet.
There was a snap, and the zombie fell to the ground, a large chunk of Mac’s skin in its mouth. Behind it were more. Many more. Shambling, walking, wobbling, drifting in their half-world.
“Right, you fuckers,” said Mac standing up. He ignored the pain and, holding his baseball bat high, walked towards them. “Ellie, Ellie!”
Ellie appeared at the door. “Mac… What the fuck…”
“Get back in love,” he said in an even voice. “Lock the door and close the blinds.”
“No, come on Mac, get in here,” she said.
Mac glanced at her. “I’m already got, love. You get yourself inside.”
“Mac?” First questioning. Then realization. “Mac!”
There they were, the tears again. How would Mac have survived that last year without Ellie and her little boy? The zombies came closer.
“I love you, Ellie,” he said. “Now get inside.”
“No!”
There was a shout of anger, and Mac allowed himself one last glance to the chalet door. Jack was behind Ellie, his arms wrapped around her, pulling her into the chalet. She kicked and screamed. Mac smiled to himself. She would give him hell. A large thump and the door closed. The only useful thing that dopey bastard Jack had ever done.
“Right then, you fuckers,” said Mac, walking into the crowd of undead.
Jack held on tight as Ellie squirmed in his arms. She kicked and punched, reaching for the door, trying to get out of his grasp. Somewhere in the back of the world, Eddy was crying, and Annie was screaming. She was saying “Leave her alone, leave her alone,” over and over again. Jack was saying words, trying to appease his daughter, but he wasn’t sure what the words were.
Ellie threw her head back and butted Jack on the chin. He felt his teeth click together hard. Bits of enamel in his mouth.
He instinctively threw Ellie forward. There was no forethought or malice in his action, it was a pure reaction. Ellie hit her head on a gun-metal grey feature radiator and fell with a thump to the ground, out cold. A splatter of blood on the radiator. Blood dripping from her forehead.
Annie screamed again. “You killed her!”
“No,” said Jack reaching his hands out to Annie, some sort of appeasement, apology, he didn’t know. He just wanted to hold her and tell it would be all right… But was it alright?
He leaned down and felt Ellie’s neck for her pulse. It was beating. Not even very slowly, just normal. Blood dripped from a cut on her head, not a stream, nothing that was going to drain her dry in the next hundred years.
“You killed her!” shouted Annie again.
Eddy was howling.
“Annie,” said Jack, “she's not dead, look, she’s not dead! I can feel her pulse, she’s ok. Come on, see for yourself?”
Annie shook her head. Her face creased up in red and tears. Her lip quivered. She ran to her bedroom.
“Annie!” shouted Jack.
A thump from the lounge and Eddy’s crying went up an octave. The little man had crawled off the couch and onto the floor. Now, aghast at a world so cruel, he lay on his back, mouth open wide, screaming.
Jack stood still, stuck between going to his daughter’s bedroom and going to Eddy. The boy was in more need. He rushed over and picked Eddy up. He hugged him close, the crying ringing in his ears like a jackhammer.
“Ssssshhhh, it’s ok, it’s ok.” He remembered the nights with Annie, holding her, trying to get her back to sleep. Eddy began to calm.
A large thump on the door made Jack jump. The door rattled in its frame. Rhythmical, bump, bump, bump, one after another.
Jack went to the door, bringing Eddy with him. He peered through blinds to the side of the door.
“Jesus!” he jumped back. A face had been right there. A face in bits. Torn skin like an old rotten chicken torso. He steeled himself and looked again.
His view was obscured entirely. Only dumb bodies, standing, waiting, moaning, clicking, pawing at the chalet.
He quickly checked the other side of the Chalet. They were surrounded.
Jack quickly went through all the doors and windows in his mind. As far as he could remember, everything was locked down. They were ok. They couldn’t get in. His heart beat like a piston. He was shaking.
He made his way to the bedroom and opened the door. Annie was in the corner of the bed, curled up, sobbing. She looked up as Jack came in and quickly turned her head away. “Go away,” said her muffled voice.<
br />
“Eddy needs your help,” said Jack.
It took a few seconds, but Annie looked up.
“He needs your cuddles, Annie. I don’t think he likes me.”
Annie sat up, wiped tears from her eyes and held out her arms.
Jack carefully placed Eddy in her arms. She pulled him in tight and rocked gently.
A loud moan from outside, right outside the window. Annie didn’t seem to notice.
“Ssssh, quiet little man. Baa baa, black sheep, have you any wool,” she sang gently.
Jack eased himself out of the room to check on Ellie. Her heart was still beating. She moaned gently as he pushed a pillow under her head. He wiped away the blood and turned her on her side. He took a duvet from the bedroom and placed it over her.
The whole world outside moaned and clicked; like being under a sea of the dead, thought Jack. A stark smell of decay began to permeate the chalet.
Jack, happy that Ellie was ok, went back to the bedroom and eased himself on to the bed next to Annie. She still held Eddy - he had stopped crying. Annie rested herself against Jack, and the three of them sat together in stillness, an oasis of love and peace in the sea of death surrounding them.
Andy ran across the sports hall and jumped onto the hood of the truck to get a better view outside. The truck’s flatbed stuck out of the double sports hall doors, the rain beat out a syncopated rhythm on its metal, a foil against the moaning and clicking from the horde behind. Where did they come from? You turn around for a minute and there they are.
A thick swell of undead pushed against the back of the truck. Andy felt it move gently back and forth under the weight of the zombies. There were tens of them, and more were arriving. How long would the truck hold…
He slid down from the truck.
Raised voices.
Anger.
“What do we do now?”
“You’ve let them in.”
“We’re all dead!”
The children cried. The adults looked terrified and angry in equal measure. Many of them hadn’t seen the undead, even from a distance, for over a year. It was only the Runners who left the gates. It was like the early days all over again - except they knew what was coming this time.
The Fall Series (Book 3): The Fence Walker Page 15
