by Luke Ashton
Paula was already in the car with Dan waiting to go by the time Jim was ready so he pulled out. As he drove round the boy’s body he started to sing to himself.
“On the road again. I can’t wait to be on the road again.”
Chapter 6
Jim took a right at the end of the street, keeping his eyes peeled for any movement. There was a zombie scratching at the police stations glass doors but he could deal with that one later. It turned momentarily to watch them pass before snapping back to the glass. Jim checked behind him to make sure the others were following him and sped up a little. At the end of the street he turned left into Tesco car park. It was empty. He parked the car in one of the spaces and killed the engine. He jumped out just at Paula pulled up next to him.
He motioned for her to wind her window down. “Park it boot-first into the front of the shop so we can load it easier.” She did as he said and they all jumped out. He walked up to the doors and they slid open. Someone had been here. He took a quick look around and turned to the others.
“Stay here until I call ‘CLEAR!’ If I’m not back in 5 minutes you guys carry on without me. Ok?” They both nodded. Jim turned and took a deep breath. He stepped past the doors and looked left. Nothing. He turned and looked right. Something caught his eye. There was a hand poking out from the end isle. It wasn’t moving. Jim hoped it was either a dead body or a dead zombie. He moved towards it slowly, glancing down each isle as he went.
He was 3 isle away when he heard it. A small shuffling sound. Over to his left. He stopped. The shuffling was getting quieter. It sounded like several old ladies racing for the last pack of sausages. Jim prayed that was it. He started to move forward again with slow, deliberate steps. He glanced down the next isle and saw it. 3 people with their backs to him. Their movements suggested they were undead and the severed foot, still in its trainer, being clutched limply by the right hand one confirmed it. As he watched, the zombie raised the foot and took a chunk out of it. There was a squelching sound as the zombie chewed on the raw flesh. Jim raised his weapon. He placed his left foot slightly forward, leaning forward into the rifle. He aimed at the zombie on the left hand side, aiming straight for his skull Jim slowly squeezed the trigger. He didn’t need to control his breathing at this range. The rifle kicked and the left side of the zombies head exploded and it dropped. The other two span round and fixed their white, blank stare on Jim. He fired again and the middle zombie dropped. The 3rd one dropped the foot and came hurtling towards him. Jim squeezed the trigger and heard a small click.
“Shit!” He tilted the rifle and looked at the working parts. They were half way back with a round jammed in the gap. “Stoppage!” Shouted Jim, more out of instinct than anything. He dropped the rifle to his side and pulled out the baton and flicked it out. He stepped to the right as the zombie lunged at him and brought the baton down on the back of its head. There was a painful whipping sound as the baton made contact but there was no real damage. The baton was useless, made to cause pain rather than do permanent damage. He turned and ran for the door.
“Dan standby mate! Got one for you here!” He reached the door and Dan was stood there, bat in hand, shaking. He ran straight past Dan before stopping. He turned just in time to watch Dan sink his bat into the zombies face.
“Fucking hell mate, I fucking did it!” Exclaimed Dan.
“I fucking crushed that bastard. He’ll be smelling roses from the inside now!” Dan was pleased with himself. He never knew he had it in him. Walking off to the car with a certain swagger that Jim knew all too well.
“Ha ha mate. Nicely done. I’m proud of you. Keep it up yeah?” Things started looking up. He finally had someone who could help him take out these bastards instead of standing in the background leaving all the heavy stuff up to him.
Jim’s thoughts were interrupted by Dan coughing and spluttering. That flu really did sound bad.
“Dan, stay in the car, me and Paula will go inside and get what we need, take it easy for now bud. We’ll get you some halls yeah?” Jim chuckled.
Paula got out of the car looking clearly shaken. She didn’t know how to deal with this. It wasn’t something she’d ever put much thought in to. Jim rammed his working parts back and a slightly bent round pinged out bouncing off the glass. He hit the release catch and the working parts moved forward again. He pulled them back slightly to check it had pick up a round before stepping into the store once again but this time with Paula on his heels. He turned and put his finger to his lips to signal her to stay quiet. She nodded looking terrified. He spotted the hand sticking out again and started moving towards it, still checking every isle for any sign of life. He was straining his ears of any other sounds but he could just hear his own breath and Paula’s terrified whimpers. He was only one isle away now and he had the weapon pointed at the hand as he rounded the corner. But that’s all it was. A hand. A severed hand. He sighed.
Jim brought his weapon up and cleared the rest of the shop. Isle by isle. He was in there nearly every day so he knew the layout. Once finished he turned to Paula.
“That’s the shop floor clear.” He pointed to a door at the back. “Now we need to do the storeroom. You ready?” Paula nodded. Jim moved to the door and flattened himself against the left doorframe. It was a double door with a small window in each door. He peered through the glass and could see all manner of boxes and trolley’s stacked with tins packets. There was no movement. He gave the door a push. Locked. There was a worn looking keyhole in the middle. Jim was about to give it a hearty kick when Paula put a hand on his chest. She pointed to the isle the dead zombies were on. One of them was wearing a Tesco polo shirt. Clipped to his belt was a chain. Jim walked over and unclipped it. He gave it a yank and the body moved with the chain for a minute and then it came free revealing a set of keys.
He walked back over to the door and, after several attempts, found the right key. He placed the keys on top of the refrigeration unit to his left so he knew where they were and raised his weapon. The store room was a long thin room with a delivery hatch on the left and a fire escape on the right. Between the two was several cages and a stack of boxes that looked to be spare beans. To the right of the stack was a small metal door with a locking handle. Obviously the chilled storage. Jim checked left then right and called “Clear!” Once more as he moved to the metal door. He checked the handle and it moved. He slid it open slowly. Weapon ready for whatever was on the other side.
The cold hit him instantly. It must have been below freezing in the room as there was bits of ice hanging from the metal racking that surrounded the square room. He swept the room and caught sight of a pair of white eyes in the corner and went to fire. Something stopped him. He looked closer. The body that they belonged to wasn’t moving or breathing or anything. It was just stood there. Jim swept the rest of the room with his rifle and stepped forward. There was a small button on the right with an electronic thermostat next to it that told them it was -1 degrees. Jim hit the button and a strobe light flickered on. The figure was a slightly balding bakery worker who had obviously got been trapped in here and froze to death. This either meant that someone else had been here or he had locked himself in here for safety and turned while he was here.
A shot from behind him brought him back to reality. The zombie’s eye disappeared. Paula had been covering the rear as Jim cleared the freezer and came in to see what was taking so long. She spotted the zombie and assumed Jim was about to be attacked so she’d fired. She was now stood in the doorway breathing heavily. The air rifle was still in her hands and pointed at the zombie.
“It’s ok. He’d frozen to death in here.” Jim explained as Paula tried to control her breathing. Seeing his own breath reminded Jim that he hadn’t had a fag since he woke up this morning and dug around in his pocket for them. He had one left and it was crushed. He decided it was time to stock up.
“Freezer clear, building clear!” Jim shouted and heard his voice bouncing around the shop. He slung his weapon over
his back and wandered back out to the car. Dan was sat in the car looking like something out of a horror movie. The irony was strong with this one.
As Jim wandered over, as Dan wound down the window he noticed his right hand man was wheezing slightly.
“How you feeling mate?” He asked in a concerned voice. Dan chuckled.
“I feel about the same as these fuckers wandering about.” Jim laughed along as it dawned on him. This could well be the cause of all this. The flu. It might have mutated or something. Jim was deep in thought while they loaded box after box of tinned goods and drinks into Paula’s car. Once they had finished Jim grabbed a trolley and took it to the counter. He leapt over in one bound and began pulling all the packets of cigarettes off the shelves, Followed by the lighters and tobacco, papers and tips. They all went in the trolley. As he was about to leap back over when he spotted the batteries. He thought about it for a minute before pulling all the AA and AAA batteries off and adding them to the stack. He pulled 3 carrier bags from the counter and started ripping the packaging off and filling one bag with AA and another with AAA. The final bag was filled with lighters and tins of lighter fuel. The bags went back in the trolley. He took the trolley over to Dan’s mini and filled the glove box with the bags of batteries. He then got on with stuffing any available space with packets of cigarettes and packs of tobacco. He pushed the bag of lighters under the seat.
He took the final packet out of the trolley and opened it. He flicked the bottom of the pack and several of the fags jumped up an inch or so. He pulled out the one that was highest and turned it upside down. He would save that one until last. Jim always had a lucky cig. The first time he did it a friend had told him about it and a few minutes later he found a tenner on the floor. Since then it had been a ritual for him. Jim had once heard the history behind it stemmed from world war one when the soldiers received cigarettes in their rations. They would turn one upside down and leave it till last. If they survived long enough to smoke it they were a lucky man. Jim pulled another fag out and lit it. Inhaling deeply he tucked the packet in his arm pocket along with his lighter.
“Where to now capitaine?” Paula said with a mock salute.
“We need to check the police station for weapons, ammo, survivors, zombies…”
“Tom, Dick, Harry, uncle Bob…” Paula cut in with a smile. She was really starting to open up.
“You get the picture.” Answered Jim. “We will take the cars down there and I think its best Dan stays in the car. He can watch the street and it saves him exerting himself more that he needs to. ” Dan nodded through the open window as Jim took a thoughtful drag on his cig. “If anything changes out here he can honk the horn so we know. Sound good to you guys?” They both nodded. Jim dropped his cig butt on the floor and jumped in the Mini as Paula climbed into the Punto. Dan had his eyes closed and his head back.
“He really did look like shit.” Thought Jim as he pulled out of the car park, taking a right back down the street to the police station. He was about 10 feet away from the doors when Paula’s car started to speed up and swerve. From Jim’s rear view mirror it looked like they were fighting. Paula turned the wheel hard right and left the road. The front end of the Punto bucked up as she hit the pavement and as it came back down it hit a tree, hard. Jim slammed on the breaks as he hit the release catch on his seatbelt. He dived out of the car, grabbing his weapon instantly and ran over to the car. There was smoke billowing from the bonnet and the front end was a mess. He moved right slightly to see around the smoke. Dan had turned and was straining against his seatbelt to get at Paula who was unconscious with her head between the steering wheel and the window. There was a big chunk missing from her shoulder, he guessed that was Dan’s work. Both of them were half covered in tins and bottles that had shot forward as they hit the tree.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Jim shouted as he raised his weapon and added a neat hole to both Dan and Paula’s head. He checked the surrounding area to ensure no undead freaks had heard the ruckus and decided to investigate. And there he was, the zombie he had drove past on the way to Tesco. Still by the automatic doors but this time his focus was on Jim. That cold dead stare, which they had all acquired from being turned, sent shudders down his spine.
“Right come on Jim. Pop him” Jim said aloud. Squeezing the bottom of the foregrip the bipod was released, he rested it on what was left of Paula’s bonnet and aimed right between the zombie’s eyes, with one clean shot he was down hitting the concrete with an almighty thud.
Jim checked his magazine. Before he had to take the mag off to see how many rounds were left but the new mags had a clear plastic strip down one side so you could see. Jim had always been taught to count his rounds but in the heat of battle he found he had enough to think about. 20 left in this mag. He didn’t need to reload yet.
Jim jogged back to the Mini and reversed it up so the boot was as close to the Punto’s as possible. Picking through the supplies he grabbed a few of the bits that would help him most. Water and tinned food mainly. He didn’t take too much. He wanted room for any ammo he could scrounge. He opened Paula’s bag, checking for weapons and pulled out the dildo. The towel rail wasn’t there though but several other sex toys were.
Finally, he moved to the driver’s side door and pulled it open. The air rifle, dildo and towel rail was tucked between the seat and the door. Jim picked them up, slung the rifle and tucked the others under his arm. He moved round the other side carefully opened the door. He gave Dan a jab with the barrel of his rifle and his body swayed slightly but he didn’t react. He leant down and unclipped the leg holster. The tyre-iron was tucked into Dan’s belt and Jim had to persuade it out. He staggered back to the Mini with all the weapons and sorted his shit out. Placing the towel rail, dildo and air rifle on the passenger seat and clipping the Sig back onto his leg. He took it out and pulled the top slide back slightly to check it had a round in the chamber. The shiny brass glinted in the midday sun. He let it go and dropped it back in.
Clambering back into the Mini he drove to the police station. Waving goodbye to his boss and his next door neighbour as he went. He parked it next to the entrance and opened his daysack, pulling out a ball of chord with several spoons attached as he went. He tied the chord around the railing of the police station and then walked it round the Mini at ankle height he tied off the other end to a tree close to the police station wall. The spoons were in sets of 3 and dangled from the chord. They were spread out every 10 metres or so and acted as an early warning device. When the chord was moved the spoons made a racket, letting him know something was there. He had used this device before on a training weekend and one of the training staff set it off. They didn’t seem too pleased to have 8 hairy arsed squaddies jumping all over him for it. The thought made him chuckle, checking the chamber to make sure he didn’t need to reload. It was force of habit. He popped the boot once more and reached in and grabbed the riot shield which he hung off the back of his webbing with the arm hooks.
Jim stepped up to the automatic doors. He saw now why the zombie hadn’t been able to get in. They were off. He pushed the gap and it moved a little. Looking in the gap he could see the metal bar along the middle of the door. Locked.
“Fuck!” Exclaimed Jim. He weighed up his options here. If he left he risked losing potential weaponry but if he broke in he risked being swarmed by rotting cops. He froze suddenly. There was a something happening inside. Pressing his ear to the gap it sounded like a fight. There was grunting and crashing like 2 drunks throwing each other into furniture. He decided to go for it.
Running back to the car he grabbed the bat and, pushing the handle into the gap he twisted. It opened slightly. He gave it a violent jerk and there was a snap. He tucked the bat down the side of his webbing and forced the doors open. The reception was a small room with metal benches bolted to the floor on one side and a worn wooden desk with all manner of leaflets behind it warning people of everything from burglars to gangs of young chav’s armed with bottles
of white lightning. He wondered briefly what the recommended action was but doubted the police’s recommendation would be the same as his. The thought of a teenage chav having a 2 litre bottle shoved so far up his arse he looks like a fountain when his mouth was open. There was a metal door next to the counter. He checked it but it was locked. There was another one over the counter. This was his way in.
Jim checked over the counter to make sure he wasn’t jumping onto a legless zombie or something and slid over looking like a bad resemblance of Die Hard. He landed in a crouch and moved to the door, there was a small window near the top and he peered in. Then he saw it. A slightly overweight man dressed head to toe in riot gear was stood in the middle of a destroyed office with several zombies surrounding him. He was swinging wildly at them one by one, sending them flying. As he watched he brought an old wooden riot baton up under one of their chin’s sending it backwards into a table. The table collapsed sending both the computer and the keyboard to the floor with a crash. Jim slipped through the door, unwilling to spoil the riot guys fun, and slowly moved forward. He was within a few feet when the last zombie received a heavy clout to the head. The zombies head split in half. Jim stepped forward straight onto a broken computer screen. The crunch alerted the riot guy who span round and whistled through Jims messy hair. He felt the wind from it and ducked instinctively, if not a little too late, before bringing his weapon back up towards his attacker.
