by Watts, Russ
“How are you, Heidi?” he said.
“I’m fine,” she said sighing, giving him a peck as they sat down at the table together. “Don’t suppose there’s anything else to eat?”
The evening meal earlier had consisted of a tin of tuna each on dry, stale ryebread crackers, followed by a packet of cheese and onion crisps and two squares of plain chocolate. Heidi’s stomach growled as she remembered the chocolate and she wished her father had gotten something rich, luxurious and milky instead of the supermarket own brand which tasted more like cardboard than chocolate.
“Sorry, Heidi, you know the rules,” he said taking off his glasses. He was a strict man, but he wasn’t an over the top disciplinarian. He was quite jovial and generous when he wanted to be, and his daughter and wife loved him dearly.
“That’s what we wanted to talk to you about, honey,” said Glenda.
“What’s wrong?” asked Heidi, feeling guilty even though she had done nothing wrong. There was something about sitting at the kitchen table with her parents looking at her in the dark that made her feel nervous. When she was ten years old, she had sat in this very spot where her parents had made her confess. She had taken a five pound note from the register to buy sweets and she had confessed it all in one blubbery dreadful evening. Her parents had sent her to bed without any supper and she was that timid ten year old girl all over again.
“Well, nothing has changed out there as far as we know,” began Daniel. “I’ve been keeping a look out from upstairs, but there’s no sign of life. I haven’t seen a soul. I’ve only seen...them...sometimes just one, but sometimes a group of them.”
“No cavalry on the horizon yet then, Dad?” asked Heidi.
“No, I’m afraid not,” he said, missing his daughter’s sarcasm, unable to see her expression clearly in the gloomy room. “The thing is we’ve been here for nearly a month and well...well, our supplies, the food, is running a bit low.”
“What do you mean ‘a bit low’?” asked Heidi worried. “I thought you’d stocked up? You said we could sit it out, wait here...have we got enough for tomorrow even?”
“Settle down, Heidi,” said Glenda hearing the rising pitch in her daughter’s voice.
“Yes, yes, we’ve got enough for tomorrow, but after that...” Daniel trailed off and fidgeted with his glasses, tapping them on the desk.
Heidi felt guilty again. She had let her parents keep things organised, settling quickly into the old routine once she had come home from college, and let them sort things out while she had done what? She could feel panic rising within her, her heart beating a little bit faster and she took in a deep breath. She let it out slowly and the candle flickered as her breath blew over it gently.
“So what are we going to do?” Heidi asked. “Should we leave? Maybe try for Penzance like we said?”
“No,” Daniel said assertively. “The car’s pretty much empty and we’d never make it on foot. No, we need to stay here and wait this thing out. We can probably find food in the neighbours’ houses, but we’re going to have to be careful out there. I will...”
“Dad, you keep saying wait this out, but what are we waiting for? You said yourself you’ve seen nothing out there. Nobody’s coming, Dad. We have to leave, we can’t stay here forever, we...”
“Listen to your father, honey,” said Glenda, the eternal peacemaker between a stubborn father and a headstrong daughter. “I know your friends were in Penzance, but you remember the news, don’t you? There’s nobody there now, your friends will have left or are...” Glenda trailed off unable to think of the right thing to say.
“Dead? You mean they’re all dead?” said Heidi getting angry.
“All right, Heidi, don’t take this out on your mother,” said Daniel.
“Well, they are, aren’t they? They’re very likely dead or wandering around looking for people like us to eat. Fucking corpses, that’s what they are now.”
“Enough!” Daniel slapped his palm down on the table and Heidi was quiet. Glenda looked down at her lap. “I will not have that language at my table in my house.”
Heidi could tell he was glaring at her and she muttered a quiet sorry.
“I’m not stupid, Heidi. I know we can’t stay here forever. Look, when we go next door, we can look for some more food, but we can check their car too. If we can find one that’s got a full tank, and we can find the keys, then I’ll listen to you. Maybe we will leave, but right now, we need to focus on staying here where it’s safe.”
Heidi sighed. “All right, Dad, I suppose so.”
Glenda smiled at her. “We’ll figure this out in the morning. Do you feel like getting the water, honey? I’m parched.”
“Sure, Mum.” Heidi got up and peeled back the towels hanging over the door.
“Be careful,” said her father watching her.
“Don’t worry, Dad, I know what I’m doing.” Heidi unlocked the door and stepped outside, letting the door close behind her. She stood in the garage letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. She could see the garage door still firmly closed and sensed nothing outside. She manoeuvred her way around her father’s car, an old silver Rover that he refused to trade in, and to the back door that led to the rear garden. She paused again, listening for noises on the other side. It was highly unlikely that anything could get into the garden, but it didn’t hurt to check. Better safe than sorry and wind up as dinner for a walking corpse.
She unlocked the door and pushed it open. There in the garden, illuminated by the moon, were the buckets, the pots and pans, the tubs, jars and containers, all laid out to catch as much rainwater as possible. The garden was fully enclosed by a six foot high wooden fence her father had erected years ago, only one small gate on the far side that led to a small side street. The gate hadn’t been used in years, so Heidi was surprised to see it open. She was even more surprised to see an old man pushing it closed quietly. The gate squeaked shut and he turned around. She saw a wrinkly old face and a frail body wearing nothing but pyjamas, and she screamed.
* * * *
“Hey, Tom, did you hear something?” asked Laurent quietly. “Sounded like a woman screaming, eh?”
Tom stopped and listened. They were in a stranger’s house, rifling through cupboards and he had his hands in a toiletry bag. He gently dropped the ointments and plasters he was holding into the sink and listened. Tom looked at Laurent and shook his head. “I thought I did, but it’s stopped now. I can’t hear anything. You?”
Laurent held a finger up. “Oui...there, shouting, I hear shouting.”
Tom listened and then he heard it too, faintly, but distinctly, the sound of people shouting. “Shit, we need to move. Grab what you can, let’s go.”
Laurent stuffed the medicine and toothpaste he had found into his backpack and tried not to think about what the screaming meant. The last time he had heard a woman screaming like that it had been his wife being pulled out of their family car by the dead. The screaming had ended as quickly as it had begun, his wife’s throat torn out as she was gobbled up by the zombies. Laurent had been powerless to save her at the time and still her screams haunted him, obliterating all emotions bar one: guilt.
Tom ran his hands across the medicine cabinet and shoved everything into the backpack regardless of whether it was of any use or not. They had no time to dwell, only time to move. He had spent days on the road, moving from place to place, and learnt that if you hesitated, it invariably led to problems or death. He had to get back to the others, and get the supplies back. He and Laurent could not afford to stay here or worse still get stuck in this stranger’s house where they were exposed to danger.
“Laurent, you ready?” Tom put his arms through the straps and the rucksack nestled onto his back. The moon illuminated the small bathroom and he could see Laurent zipping up his bag.
“Oui. Ready.” He looked at Tom and knew they were in danger. Since they had been together, they had survived on the road, running, hiding, learning how to live in this strange world
. It had been a long and difficult journey, but Laurent recognised the look on Tom’s face. His features were set, locked in determination and Laurent knew the situation was serious. They had not seen or heard anyone living for six days. The dead did not scream or shout.
Laurent followed Tom out of the bathroom, down the hallway, and back to the front door of the house they had broken into. Tom opened the door and they crouched down, scanning the street. Laurent saw only deserted houses, no lights or movement. “What do you think? Is it safe?”
Tom waited and looked. It appeared quiet, but he couldn’t afford to take any risks. On more than one occasion they had been startled in the past by losing focus, not checking where they had been going. The dead were quiet creatures, always lurking in corners, hiding in shadows, waiting to pounce like a cat stalking a bird. The small van they had come in was still sat at the end of the path, which led to the front door. They had coasted up quietly and parked it without being seen. The screams and shouts though might have drawn attention. It didn’t seem like the sounds were very far away and sure enough, just as Tom was preparing to tell Laurent the path was clear, a zombie shuffled past the van. It failed to notice Tom or Laurent crouched down in the doorway and continued on its path down the road, drawn to the noise.
“We’re going to have to run for the van and do a loop,” said Tom. “Whatever’s going on is away to our right. I’ll turn the van around and do a circuit. Hopefully, the road will be clear and we can get...home.” He didn’t know what else to call it, but it was their home for now. It varied from day to day, but for now it was theirs. “Okay, let’s go.”
Tom sprinted down the path to the van with Laurent right behind him. They didn’t run into any more zombies and got into the van easily. As Laurent ran around onto the road to get in the passenger side, he heard glass breaking and paused. Looking up the road he could see a crowd of around a dozen of the dead, all heading into one house. The crowd had broken through the huge bay windows and were scrambling through the window frame. Laurent got into the van as Tom started the engine.
“Tom...” began Laurent.
“I know what you’re going to say Laurent, but we can’t. We can’t. You know how dangerous it would be and we don’t even know if they’re still alive. We need to get this stuff back to Caterina.”
With the engine purring they sat for a moment and Laurent stared straight ahead saying nothing. Looking at the growing swarm of zombies ahead he felt safe in the van. Looking through the windshield it was like watching it on television and he felt disconnected from it all. That scream though was definitely a woman’s. What if she was in trouble? No, Tom was right they couldn’t risk it when they didn’t even know if there was anyone to rescue. Still, that nagging feeling of guilt was a difficult one to shed. This time there was nothing stopping him, nothing barring his way from the screaming woman.
The van lurched forward, but instead of doing a U-turn Tom sped up. “Put your seatbelt on, Laurent.”
Laurent looked at Tom, puzzled, but did as he was told. Tom had been right about many things and instinctively Laurent knew he was right now. As the seatbelt clicked in, so too did Tom’s plan click in Laurent’s mind. He braced himself.
Tom kept his foot on the accelerator as he ploughed into the zombies outside the house. Several bodies were obliterated; arms, hands and heads bounced off the van onto the pavement. The van lurched as Tom drove over the fallen bodies, but he kept it straight and Laurent looked in the wing mirror to see Tom had cleared a path through the dead. Many of the zombies who were trying to get into the house had stopped and were following the sound of the van now. Tom screeched to a halt. “Do you trust me Laurent?”
“Of course but...”
“Then get out.”
Laurent unclipped his seatbelt and put his hand on the door handle. “And?”
“The ones that can still stand are coming this way. Run straight ahead, lead them away, down the road and away from here. When you’ve drawn them away, I’ll reverse up to the house and see if there’s anyone there. When you get to the end of the road, take a right and there’s a car park. I saw it on the way in. Hug the right hand side of it, run around it back to the street. I’ll pick you up in five minutes, no more.”
Laurent thought for a moment, fingering the knife in his pocket. Then he slid the backpack off and put it in the footwell. “Okay. Five minutes.”
Tom nodded and Laurent got out of the van. Tom kept the engine running, but ducked down out of sight. He heard Laurent shouting.
“Hey, over here, you fuckers! Come and get some! Fresh meat, you dirty fucking bastards!”
Tom heard Laurent running away and then he heard the dead. They clattered past the van, banging against it, but following Laurent’s voice. In a moment, they were gone and Tom was left alone. He sat up and looked in the mirrors. He could see no dead behind him. He prayed that he would have no trouble at the house. He knew he was risking not just Laurent’s life, but all those who were depending on him too: Caterina, Christina and the others. It didn’t occur to him that he was risking his own life too.
Tom reversed the van quickly, but quietly, to the house where they had seen the commotion and heard the shouting. Leaving the engine running, Tom got out. The pavement was scattered with pieces of meat, limbs that he had decapitated minutes earlier, arms and legs still twitching, yet unable to move. He walked past them to the window and looked through into an empty room.
It looked like so many other houses they had been in: a television set in the corner, books, ornaments, a black leather sofa and armchairs. There was an open doorway in the corner and Tom carefully headed toward it, aware he could no longer hear any noises. He passed through the doorway into a carpeted hallway. There was a side table on the floor and a telephone and papers next to it. Something had gotten in and knocked it over. He could hear noises now. Somebody was crying, whimpering. He pulled the knife from his belt, a large kitchen knife he always kept with him and had saved his life on more than one occasion.
Holding the knife in his right hand, he pushed open the door at the end of the hallway slowly. It was a kitchen, illuminated by candelight. There was a large wooden table in the middle covered in blood. In one corner of the room were two women, hugging each other, crying and consoling each other. One looked old, the other young, although they both had the same blonde hair. Probably mother and daughter, thought Tom. In the other corner, a man, covered in blood and wearing glasses, was staring at the table. Beneath it was one of the dead. It had fallen there after Daniel had killed it, severing its head with a carving knife. Daniel was shaking, his hands trembling and when Tom walked in, he dropped the knife. He opened his mouth to speak and looked at Tom in horror.
“They were coming, they were coming in and we had to...we had to...oh God.” Daniel pushed his glasses up his nose, smearing them with blood.
Tom kept his knife held aloft, ears sensitive to any noise in case one of the dead decided to attack again, perhaps hiding upstairs or behind the door. “Are you hurt? Are any of you hurt?” He looked around the room and could not see anyone else. The two women were scared, but appeared unharmed. He knew from experience though that a single bite was all it took. Teeth could bite through clothing and sometimes those infected didn’t realise it until it was too late. His friend Parker had died the same way. A single bite was all it had took to take him away from Tom. He hadn’t been the only one.
“I said are any of you hurt?” Tom strode into the room and kicked the zombie on the floor. It didn’t move. Its head rolled away from the body as Tom kicked it and came to rest at Daniel’s feet.
“No, we’re okay, just a bit...I’m sorry, who are you?” asked Heidi. She stepped forward still holding onto her mother’s hand.
“Tom. Look, if you’re not hurt then you need to come with me. It’s not safe here now. The noise will bring more of these.” Tom kicked the lifeless body on the floor again. “There’s not time to pack or think, just come with me. I have friends.
We can help you.”
Tom looked at the girl who had spoken to him. She was pretty, but thin. She looked like she hadn’t eaten well and had probably lost weight over the last few weeks. Her greasy blonde hair hung like tangled spider webs around her face and her skin seemed unnaturally pale. Probably hasn’t left the house since it started, he thought. Her eyes looked at him with a curiosity, and if this was a different world he would’ve liked to carry on a conversation with her. But the world didn’t have time for that any more.
“Dad, he’s right, we should go,” said Heidi.
Daniel just nodded and walked slowly over to his wife and daughter. Glenda let go of Heidi and embraced her husband.
“Oh, Dan, what are we going to do?” said Glenda sobbing into her husband’s shoulders.
“What’s your name?” said Tom to the girl standing before him.
“Heidi.” Her thin arms hung by her sides and she felt cold. The cool night air was coming in from outside now and the candle was flickering, about to extinguish and leave them in darkness. She didn’t want to be in the dark, not with that thing in here with them. She had never seen her father be violent once, yet he had fought off that person, that dead thing, and killed it in front of her. Now here was this strange man standing in front of her with a knife and she didn’t know what to do.
Tom could see that the girl was about to break down. He didn’t have time for tears or hysterics, much less anyone going into shock. They had to go get Laurent. “All of you, come with me. I’ve a van outside. I can get you out of here, but we must go now.” He put the knife back in his pocket and held out a hand.
Carefully, Heidi took it, sliding her fingers into Tom’s. His hand was warm and strong and she let him lead her out of the kitchen, out of their house. Daniel and Glenda followed.
