by David Moody
Billy turned his head in a panic and noticed half a dozen ugly-looking animals heading down from the top of the field towards the crew, rapidly.
‘Oh God, the sheep! Run!’
***
Neil had turned around the instant he’d heard Billy yelling, and saw the undead beasts sweeping down towards them. After his encounter with the zombie sheep at Hafod Isaf farm, he was in no mood to have a run-in with any more of those monsters. He sprinted towards the gate at the bottom of the field, with Gez and Beth in hot pursuit.
Billy watched the youngsters head away from danger, and turned to see if he could now help Toby and Fiona. She was still cooing sweetly at the sheep.
Toby was looking less and less comfortable as the creatures drew ever nearer. ‘Er… Fi-Fi; I don’t think you should be encouraging them. The closer they get, the less cute they look.’
Fiona smiled sweetly at her partner. ‘Oh don’t be so melodramatic Tobes. They’re completely harml—’
Fiona never managed to finish the sentence. The first sheep launched itself at her, knocking her to the ground with the sheer force of its leap. The five other sheep quickly joined in.
‘Noooooo!’ screamed Toby as he leapt forward to try to pull his sweetheart to safety.
Billy was rooted to the spot as he watched the grisly tableaux unfold in front of him. His every instinct told him to run up the hill and help out, but he knew that it was already too late to save the couple. So he turned on his heel, while the sheep were tucking in to their supper, and ran for his life. As he thundered towards the gate, all he could hear was the raucous bleating of the sheep mixed with the dying screams of Toby and Fiona.
He saw the three teenagers slow down and look back as they reached the gate. Each of their faces was a mask of horror. Gez managed to yell, ‘don’t look back, Uncle Billy. Just keep running, for God’s sake!’
Billy couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder as he ran, and saw that two of the sheep had left the feeding frenzy and were now galloping down the slope as fast as they could. They were gaining on him by the second.
The three teenagers were now on the other side of the fence, and screaming at him to run ever faster. With the gate just a few feet away, Billy sailed through the air, landing heavily on the top railing, and tried to throw his body over the barrier. As he swung his legs up, he felt something tug on his jeans and looked back to see one of the sheep had managed to grab hold of his trouser leg. He felt himself being pulled backwards and all he could do was hold on tight to the railings.
Gez, Neil, and Beth flew into action. Each one grabbed hold of Billy’s top half and pulled with all their might. Anyone walking past at that point would have seen the most desperate tug of war contest in the history of the sport.
‘On the count of three,’ yelled Gez, as he tried to organise his friends. ‘One… two… three… pull!’
With a mighty heave, the three youngsters managed to drag Billy over the gate. There was the sound of ripping, as the sheep pulled in the opposite direction, taking a long strip of his jeans away in its mouth.
The youngsters half carried, half dragged the older man away from the gate, and didn’t let him go until they were a safe distance from the frenzied creatures.
Gez turned to Billy, ‘Serves you right for wearing flares, old man.’
Billy gave his nephew a crooked grin, before slowly raising the middle finger of his hand in reply.
THIRTEEN
The four travellers crossed the field, keeping a wary eye out for any more wool-covered attackers, and made their way across the next pasture. Five minutes later, Neil was the first to spot that the main road ran along one of the fields they were crossing. They found a hole in the fence and crawled through. Neil even kissed the tarmac in thanks once they were safely out of the paddock. They began walking back towards the town and, within another ten minutes, saw the black-on-white sign which read, Croeso I Lanbedr Pont Steffan : Welcome To Lampeter.
It was early evening by the time the four weary Cardiffians arrived at the front of the local police station. After some hefty pounding on the door by Billy, an annoyed constable finally came to investigate. ‘Keep the bloody noise down, will you. I’m trying to eat my supper here.’
Billy stared at the policeman. ‘And I’ve got a tale to tell you that’ll put you off your food for good.’
Over the next hour, Billy and the youngsters told their story to the constable. During this time, he rang his sergeant. The four tourists went through their tale again for the senior officer’s benefit. This time, Billy was even more graphic in his description of the fate that had befallen Toby and Fiona.
Half an hour after that, a warrant was placed for the arrest of the Davies brothers, and with calls made to all the local forces, it was less than twenty minutes later when the handcuffed siblings were sat fuming in a police cell, glowering at Gez and his friends through the bars.
Neil couldn’t resist having some fun at Big Ken’s expense. ‘All I need you to say now is – and if it hadn’t been for you pesky, meddling kids, I’d have got away with it.’
The torrent of abuse and foul language that came from Ken’s mouth was nothing less than impressive. The constable, who had heard all the profanity, popped his head around the door of the cellblock. ‘What’s wrong with him, now?’
Neil smiled. ‘Apparently he’s not a Scooby Doo fan.’
The constable gave Neil a strange look and disappeared from view again.
Neil wandered back into the main office. Gez and Beth were sat quietly in a corner, drinking tea, and helping themselves to the plateful of sandwiches on the table in front of them. Billy was deep in conversation with the sergeant.
‘I’m sorry have to tell you, Mr Morgan, we found your companions. Or should I say, we found what was left of your companions.’
Billy nodded his head once. ‘Well, I can’t say that we were best friends, but they didn’t deserve that, the poor sods. Listen, can I have a quiet word with you for a minute, Sarge?’
Billy and the officer headed into the back of the building, while Neil joined his friends for something to eat and drink.
‘You know,’ he said, ‘I think the countryside’s a little overrated for my taste.’
Gez nodded in agreement, while Beth just shook her head in irritation.
‘I can’t take you two anywhere.’
‘Oh you can’, added Gez. ‘It’s just that you can’t take us back there again.’
◆◆◆
Billy Morgan walked into the cellblock and went straight up to the last cell, where Big Ken Davies was sat brooding on his bunk.
‘What the hell do you want?’
Billy smiled benignly then reached into his back pocket and produced a set of keys. He made a grand performance of sifting through the bunch before picking out one in particular. He placed the key in the lock of the cell and turned it. There was a loud click as the door was unlocked. Big Ken looked at him hopefully.
Billy stood in the doorway, leaning against the steel frame. ‘Come here a minute.’
Ken rose warily from the bunk and stepped towards the smaller man. As Ken stepped forward, so did Billy and he head-butted the big local with no small amount of force.
Ken’s nose virtually exploded in a fountain of blood, and the impact made him stagger backwards and flop back down on his bed.
‘What the fuck…’
Billy interrupted the bleeding Davies brother.
‘Don’t worry, boss. It’s not business, it’s personal.’
He stepped back out of the cell and turned the key in the lock. As Billy strode out of the cellblock, he tossed the keys casually to the sergeant.
‘Thanks for that, Sarge. I owe you one.’
◆◆◆
The Land Rover cruised through Lampeter, heading for the road that would eventually take them back to Cardiff. All four passengers had been quiet since they’d picked up the vehicle from the car park of the Castle Hotel. As they drove back
over the Teifi bridge, Billy glanced over at his nephew. ‘The next time I suggest heading out to the arse end of nowhere on a zombie safari, you have my permission to punch some sense into me.’
‘Don’t worry, I will.’
‘And I’ll help,’ added Beth.
‘I think I’ll just watch, if you don’t mind,’ Neil said
Billy looked at him in the rear-view mirror and smiled. He shifted gear, and the Land Rover roared out of Lampeter, past the beautiful green fields that surrounded the town.
None of them took any notice of the flock of sheep grazing quietly in one of the pastures. And they certainly didn’t notice the grinning zombie that was creeping up behind those sheep with a definite purpose… the dirty bugger.
LITTLE MONSTER
James Plumb
PROLOGUE
BLEEP BLEEP
Muttering, I jam my hand into my pocket and fish around for my mobile. I squint to read the text message from Jen:
GARETH, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?
I roll my eyes. Gripping my phone I punch in a curt, semi-literate response while sidestepping a gaggle of schoolkids.
On way to station
Looking up, I nearly collide with a chugger, who performs a jokey little dance as I try to avoid him.
‘Hi there, buddy. Can I—’
‘Sorry. Train,’ I tell him.
As I enter Cardiff Central Train station, sweat beads on my brow.
Taking two steps at a time, I sprint up to Platform Three to be greeted by the news that the train home is delayed.
BLEEP BLEEP: EVERYONE’S ALREADY HERE
I jab more letters into my phone.
WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT ME TO DO ABOUT IT?
I’m about to hit send, but a rare moment of sense descends on me and I reconsider, my thumb already pushing the delete key.
Train delayed
Optimistically I put the phone back in my pocket, casting my eye up and down the platform.
Eventually the train arrives and I, along with my fellow wage slaves, play the worst game of human Tetris that you can imagine in order to get home.
BLEEP BLEEP
I ignore the phone, weighing up the effort it’ll take to retrieve it from my pocket without accidentally molesting one of the many passengers pressed up against me.
But the phone’s having none of it and BLEEP BLEEPS and VIBRATES.
A middle-aged man in front of me turns around to face me, our noses almost touching. Smiling, I attempt to move my hand to my pocket without copping a feel of him. Or anyone else.
PLEASE TELL ME YOU’RE ON THE TRAIN. SHE KEEPS ASKING WHERE YOU ARE
I look around.
I AM ON THE FUCKING TRAIN
I don’t bother putting my phone away. Instead I count down from three.
Three.
Two.
O-
BLEEP BLEEP: THANK ALL THE FUCKS FOR THAT. COULDNT YOU HAVE WORKED LATE ANOTHER NIGHT???
That’s not exactly how the employer/employee relationship works
I’m quite proud of that one.
BLEEP BLEEP: DONT BE SUCH A FUCKING PRICK
Yes, dear
Checkmate.
BLEEP BLEEP: GO FUCK YOURSELF
Spilling out of the train, I dodge other commuters surging off the platform and heading for the main road.
BLEEP BLEEP: IT'S HER FIFTH BIRTHDAY, GARETH
BLEEP BLEEP: YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO BE LATE
BLEEP BLEEP: FUCK YOU
After that barrage, I feel my anger rising.
I go for the cheap shot.
Yes, dear
Not so proud of that one.
BLEEP BLEEP: DSHDUGFEUIWGSUXYDH’*&£IK’!!!
I think I broke my wife.
BLEEP BLEEP: YOU PROMISED
And just like that, I realise I’m the kind of wanker who’s late for his own daughter’s fifth birthday party.
◆◆◆
Phone in hand, I walk into the community hall and see Jen huddled with some of other mums. She’s smiling, but I can tell it’s strained. I hit send on my phone.
I’M SORRY
She looks down at her phone. Then looks towards the entrance. Towards me.
She looks relieved.
Then angry.
Then sad.
Then angry again, she starts walking over, gaining speed, but just before she opens her mouth—
‘Daddy!’
Ana dives into my arms and plasters me with little kisses.
Jen adopts a sad smile and enters into a group hug.
‘Told you, Mummy.’
I kiss Jen on the top of her head.
ONE
Gareth looked back in the car rear view mirror to see the birthday girl passed out; head back, mouth open, dead to the world.
He smiled. In the end, Ana had had a whale of a time; ate too much sugar, stayed up too late and crashed as soon as they had got her in her car seat.
He looked over at Jen, who had twisted her body so it was faced towards the passenger window. She stared out of it, even though it was now pitch black.
‘I am sorry,’ Gareth attempted.
No response.
‘The other guys in the office are either young or gay, not family men. So there’s just an expectation that sometimes we have to work late to get the job done. Do you think I’d rather be stuck there instead of with you and Ana?’
‘I understand that sometimes you have to work late, I do, and sometimes I work late. But your daughter turns five only once.’
Well, we could lie and tell her it's her birthday tomorrow, she wouldn’t know the difference, five-year-olds are stupid, was what went through his head.
‘I know, I’m sorry,’ was what came out of his mouth.
They drove in silence for a while longer, interrupted only once by a plain white van dangerously overtaking them.
‘You’ve got to spend some quality time with Ana. I’m worried she’s only going to end up seeing her dad on the weekends and I don’t want that for her.’
Neither did Gareth. He loved his own dad dearly. The two of them talked on the phone often now, but growing up his dad had always come home after Gareth had fallen asleep and left for work before he’d woken up.
‘You’re absolutely right. Look, I’ll take her to the park when she gets up in the morning, then take her out for a Happy Meal or something afterwards. Give you a chance to have a lie-in for once.’
Jen’s body visibly relaxed and Gareth knew that, somehow, he had averted another disaster.
She rested her hand on top of Gareth’s on the gear stick and it remained there for the rest of the journey home.
As they pulled onto the driveway, Gareth silently passed Jen the keys and got out of the car. While Jen unlocked the front door, he unstrapped his daughter from her car seat and lifted her unconscious form. She rested her head against his shoulder, a small pool of dribble leaking onto his shirt.
Gently, he carried her through the front door and directly up the stairs, avoiding the steps which he knew would creak underfoot, passing the family photos on his way up towards the landing. This was a routine Gareth had performed hundreds of times, now choreographed to perfection.
Opening the door to Ana’s room with his foot, he circumnavigated dolls and crippling Lego and stickle-bricks to get to Ana’s stuffed animal menagerie of a bed.
Placing her down, nestling her amidst the wild beasts and stuffed cartoon characters, he tucked her in, stroked her hair and kissed her forehead.
Before leaving the room, he turned on Ana’s night light, bathing the room in red.
Slowly he pulled the door to.
TWO
Gareth didn’t understand how he could feel hungover with only one beer in his belly from last night, and yet he felt rough. The screaming kids and toddlers hurtling around him didn’t help, screeching at the laws of gravity as they threw themselves onto swings, seesaws and roundabouts. Among it all, Ana happily bobbed up and down on the opposite
end of the seesaw from a boy with a permanently leaking nose.
Things had been tense with Jen last night. They’d been tense for a long time. When he woke this morning, he decided it was easier to let Jen sleep-in while he struggled to get Ana fed and dressed before taking her to the park. Gareth thought back to when he and Jen were a couple, two emotionally stunted twenty-year-olds. She with her 80s nostalgia, worshipping the kids films of her youth, and him with his love of punk bands that had imploded before he was even born. They had complimented each other. And eighteen months later when they had got married, the first of all their friends, people had thought it cute.
And then they did what people do after they get married: they tried for kids. It hadn’t been easy. They’d tried for over two years with no luck. Terrified of doctors at the best of times, they didn’t book an appointment with their GP, but instead visited countless websites and internet forums giving all sorts of crackpot advice. And they tried it all.
When Jen did finally fall pregnant, Gareth did everything he could to wrap his young wife in cotton wool and protect her from the outside world.
Gareth looked over at Ana, at what he and Jen had tried for so long and so hard to create together. There was no denying that he loved his little girl. He loved her at a primal, paternal level. He loved her at a chemical level, he understood that. But he couldn’t help but feel a degree of resentment as well. What nobody had told him was that after having kids, you no longer had the right to get ill. You no longer had the right to be tired, because a screaming baby had no time for such concepts. What was worse was he knew that Jen felt the same way. They had ceased to be a couple and had become parents, a delivery system for their daughter until she reached adulthood. Their identities eroded, they were no longer Jen and Gareth but Mummy and Daddy.
