The Undead Day Nineteen

by Haywood, RR

  ‘Mr Howie, I’ve found the next house…down the road you are on and turn right.’

  ‘Coming to you, hold position. Any signs of anyone?’

  ‘All clear at the moment.’

  They jog steadily with a sustained pace marked by Howie at the front. The air filled with the sound of the Saxon chugging confidently, Roy’s van purring rhythmically and the minibus spluttering noisily. Feet trudging the ground. Weapons jangling and breathing coming a bit harder as the warmth and exertion grows.

  They could have got back into their vehicles but the slow speed would put the people in the minibus at risk so there is no choice but to run alongside and keep it within the protective circle.

  ‘Sod this,’ Clarence grips the handle and jumps up to land on the ledge of the bus doorway.

  ‘Cheater,’ Paula calls out.

  ‘Older and wiser,’ Clarence calls back.

  ‘Water?’

  ‘Eh? Oh thanks very much,’ he says with a nod at Jane holding a bottle out, ‘er…’ he pauses, unsure of how to unscrew the lid while holding the rifle in one hand and the handle to stop himself falling back out with the other.

  ‘Let me,’ she says, plucking it back from his huge hand.

  ‘Ah thank you,’ he takes the opened bottle and a big swig before leaning out, ‘Paula?’

  ‘Cheers,’ she runs over, ‘budge up,’ she jumps up to squeeze past Clarence into the front of the bus.

  ‘Cheater,’ Nick shouts.

  ‘Older and wiser,’ she shouts back and takes the opened bottle held out by Clara, ‘thanks, sweetie…’

  ‘Almost there,’ Clarence says, looking ahead to the junction and the Saxon swinging out to make the right turn.

  ‘Duty calls,’ Paula says passing the bottle back to Jane, ‘don’t drink from that one.’

  ‘Okay,’ Jane says.

  ‘Thanks,’ Clarence says, passing his bottle back, ‘better not risk it with mine either…ready?’ He asks Paula.

  ‘Why not,’ they jump out and run on into the junction and round to see Charlie waiting by the house.

  She sees them coming. Howie getting to the junction first with Dave and Mo either side and the Saxon a few metres behind them.

  ‘You okay?’ Howie pants, running towards her.

  ‘No movement, window’s smashed in,’ Charlie says, ‘am I moving up again?’

  ‘Dave and Mo…clear the…’

  ‘Doing it,’ Dave runs past him with Mo, both of them slinging rifles to draw pistols.

  ‘Fast, Dave,’ Howie shouts. The bus comes round the corner with everyone else running in front and to the sides.

  ‘Get some water,’ Howie says, pausing a second to get his breathing under control.

  ‘I’m okay, I’m only riding so…’

  ‘Get some water, we might get contact soon,’ Howie says walking towards the front door.

  ‘Ground floor clear,’ Dave’s voice comes clear through the open door and broken window.

  Howie goes in and checks the door like Clarence did on one of the other houses. The lock is intact. He gets into the lounge and takes in the busted window, the curtains hanging down and the blood soaking into the deep pile carpet. Whoever lived here wouldn’t open the door so they came in via the window. Why are these people living like this? Why aren’t they in boarded up houses or strong defensive points? Why stay in the house you lived while the world crumbles to shit around you? Why do that? Why not run or fight back or join others?

  ‘Anything?’ Paula asks from the doorway as she walks in with Clarence.

  ‘Why stay here?’ Howie asks, ‘the fucking windows aren’t boarded up…the doors the same as it was…’

  ‘Body upstairs but it’s clear,’ Dave says, coming down with Mo behind him, ‘we’ll get fluids.’

  ‘What state is the body in?’ Paula asks.

  ‘Bad,’ Mo says darkly, following Dave outside.

  Paula leads the way up the stairs to the bedroom door smashed through and the walls of the room beyond dripping blood. Three distinct areas of attack. One by the door. One further in and the last is obviously the body left by the window. A woman with her ears bitten off, her nose missing and her internal organs have been torn from her stomach to lie bitten and scattered about the room.

  ‘Think it’s a message?’ Paula asks.

  ‘Fuck knows,’ Howie says, ‘why stay here? Why are these people still in this town?’

  ‘It’s their home,’ she says.

  ‘Doesn’t make sense,’ Howie says, shaking his head at the corpse.

  ‘Nothing makes sense anymore,’ Clarence says heavily.

  ‘Fucking windows aren’t boarded…fuck me, they had a bat,’ Howie says in exasperation as he kicks the bloodied baseball left on the floor, ‘a fucking bat…’

  ‘Comfort in familiarity I guess,’ Paula says.

  ‘Did you stay in your house when it happened?’ Howie asks.

  ‘Me? No. I got a four wheel drive and kept mobile. I slept in a different field every night until I met Roy and then you lot.’

  ‘Doesn’t make any sense,’ Howie says again.

  ‘It’s people,’ Paula says with a shrug, ‘they never make any sense.’

  Clarence tuts when he spots the penis left in a pool of blood by the skirting board.

  ‘Another one downstairs,’ Howie says, ‘in the lounge.’

  ‘Penis?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Why are they doing that?’ Paula asks, ‘it’s got to be a message to you lot…come after me and I’ll bite your dicks off.’

  ‘Nasty way to go,’ Clarence says with a shudder.

  ‘Is there a nice way to go?’ Paula asks.

  ‘Yeah, either blind drunk or an old man asleep in bed…’

  ‘Could be both at the same time,’ Howie says.

  ‘We’d better go,’ Paula says, ‘we can’t be that far behind them.’

  ‘We could send Dave ahead,’ Clarence suggests as they go out into the landing.

  ‘No, we need Dave here in case the bus gets attacked,’ Paula says, ‘same with you and the lads…and Roy.’

  Charlie waits for the vehicles to pull up and Roy to go ahead before sliding gratefully from the saddle with dull pains radiating through her backside from the unfamiliar creases digging into her cheeks.

  ‘You alright?’ Cookey says, his face flushed and with a light sheen of perspiration from running, ‘got you a water,’ he adds, holding a bottle out given to him by Jane.

  ‘That is very kind, thank you, Cookey,’ she says politely, ‘would you be kind enough to turn the other way for a second.’

  ‘You what?’ Cookey asks, the grin already spreading across his face, ‘what for?’

  ‘I need to rub my bottom,’ Charlie says with a spurt of laughter at the expression on his face, ‘it’s not my saddle…the creases are in the wrong places…don’t look at me like that.’

  ‘My lady,’ Cookey says with his best deep posh voice, ‘I shall hitherto turn the other cheek and save your dignity…get it? Cheek?’

  She can’t help it. It’s not just what he says but how he says it. The tone and his expression, the way his smile holds as he nods in expectation. She chuckles then tuts and rolls her eyes. It’s the end of the world and she’s riding a horse through the apocalypse. Sod it. She reaches round and rubs her backside while giggling like a schoolgirl.

  Cookey affects a blanch then looks round as though shocked and offended, ‘wow,’ he says, ‘I actually love this day.’

  ‘I’m somewhat surprised you’re not offering to help.’

  ‘Can I?’ He blurts.

  ‘No,’ she scoffs still laughing, ‘what would the others say?’

  ‘Fuck ‘em,’ Cookey exclaims, ‘I’m a good bum rubberer I am.’

  ‘Really? Does Blowers know this? Blowers,’ Charlie calls, getting his attention, ‘Cookey said he’s a good bottom rubberer.’

  ‘I said no such thing,’ Cookey says.

  ‘He i
sn’t,’ Blowers says before swigging from his bottle, ‘he’s crap at it. Ask Nick.’

  ‘He’s shit,’ Nick shouts from the other side of the bus.

  ‘How’s your back?’ She asks, dropping her voice and taking the bottle of water.

  ‘Ah it’s okay,’ Cookey says with a shrug.

  ‘Sure?’ She asks.

  ‘Stings a bit but fuck it, I got zombie healing powers now.’

  She snorts and tries to cover the snort but it comes out like a donkey braying instead.

  ‘Your laugh is awesome, hey Mo,’ Cookey says to her then smiles at Mo peeling away from Dave’s side, ‘is it bad inside?’

  ‘Mess,’ Mo says, ‘more dicks on the floor. Proper fucked up.’

  ‘More dicks?’ Cookey winces at the thought.

  ‘What’s that?’ Blowers asks, walking over, ‘more dicks inside?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Mo says, ‘one on the ground floor and one in the bedroom…’

  ‘Don’t get excited, Blowers.’

  ‘Funny twat,’ Blowers mutters.

  ‘Body upstairs been ripped open too,’ Mo says, ‘woman, her insides are all outsides, you get me?’

  ‘Fucked up,’ Blowers says looking down the street, ‘we need to speed up.’

  ‘We can’t,’ Cookey says, ‘we’ve the bus to…’

  ‘I know,’ Blowers cuts across him, ‘is the blood fresh?’

  ‘Looks it,’ Mo says, ‘Dave said it is.’

  ‘Dave?’ Blowers calls out, ‘is the blood fresh?’

  ‘Yes, Simon.’

  ‘Fuck it,’ Blowers mutters again, ‘we ain’t that far behind them.’

  ‘He won’t let us separate,’ Cookey says, ‘and he won’t send Dave ahead with people on that bus…’

  ‘He’s coming,’ Mo says as Howie, Paula and Clarence rush from the house.

  ‘…and I’m saying we cannot separate again, look what happened in that village…’ Paula says firmly.

  ‘We have to do something,’ Clarence says, equally as firmly, ‘I’ll go ahead in the Saxon and find them…’

  ‘We are not losing you from here,’ Paula fires back, ‘and how will you find them from the Saxon? You can’t see the blood trail from up there. Charlie can follow it but we can’t send Charlie ahead on her own.’

  ‘I am happy to go ahead…’ Charlie says.

  ‘No,’ Paula shakes her head, ‘we are not separating.’

  ‘Boss?’ Clarence asks.

  Howie stares brooding and dark. His eyes resting on the horse, ‘we have to do something. We can’t catch them up going at this speed…’

  ‘And we can’t leave the people on the bus either,’ Paula says.

  ‘Send the bus to the fort,’ Blowers says.

  ‘How can we?’ Paula says, ‘what if something happens to them. We can only go as fast as we can follow that trail.’

  ‘Put the drone up,’ Mo says, still in the problem solving mind-set of having Dave throw increasingly bizarre scenarios at him.

  ‘You bloody genius,’ Paula says grabbing him to plant a kiss on his forehead, ‘well done, honey.’

  ‘Well done, Mo,’ Clarence says slamming a hand into the poor lads back.

  ‘Reggie, It’s Paula, can you get that drone up and find where they are?’

  ‘I can most certainly try but I will lose the camera feed if I do and the rear will be exposed.’

  ‘Easy Blowers,’ Cookey mumbles into his hand.

  ‘So be it,’ Paula transmits back, ‘Charlie, you okay tracking again?’

  ‘I can go further ahead,’ Charlie says quickly as the growing sense of urgency flows through them.

  ‘No,’ Howie says simply, ‘get ready, we’re moving out.’

  ‘Reggie’s putting the drone up,’ Paula says as though Howie didn’t hear her before.

  ‘Mr Howie, Jess is fast enough to get me out of any situation that may develop and…’

  ‘I said no,’ Howie mutters, his eyes brooding and dark. Charlie pauses, takes a breath and goes to reply but finds a hand gently touching her leg as Cookey discretely shakes his head.

  ‘Everyone ready?’ Howie asks, not giving them time to reply, ‘we’re moving.’

  ‘Howie,’ Marcy says moving in front of him, ‘Reggie needs time to get the drone up…’

  ‘Tell him to hurry up.’

  ‘He will go as fast as he can.’

  ‘Someone give him a hand, we need to get moving instead of standing here fucking chatting…’

  ‘Howie,’ Marcy says with a warning look.

  ‘Not now, Marcy, we’re moving out…everyone get ready.’

  ‘Everyone stay where you are,’ Marcy snaps, staring hard at Howie, ‘a word please.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘In private,’ she says, her voice rising several notches.

  ‘Fucking what?’ He snaps, ‘they’re in front of us…they could be round that fucking corner and we’re stood here with our thumbs up our arses…’

  ‘Reggie needs to get the fucking drone up,’ Marcy shouts at him, ‘we’re doing the best we can.’

  ‘Howie,’ Paula shouts, ‘how the hell can you find them if you can’t see where they are.’

  ‘We are moving out,’ Howie says, his own voice rising to a shout, ‘those things are right in front of us. We are going after them. We are not waiting for them to kill more people. Is that clear?’

  ‘Pack it in, Howie,’ Marcy shouts as she reaches out to grab his arm.

  ‘Take your hand off Mr Howie,’ Dave says taking a step towards Marcy.

  ‘Whoa,’ Paula shouts, ‘what are you doing, Dave?’

  ‘Take your hand off Mr Howie,’ Dave says again, his hand dropping to his belt.

  ‘Dave, stand down,’ Howie fires the words out, ‘we’re moving now.’

  ‘No we are not,’ Paula shouts, ‘what the hell was that?’

  ‘I said we’re moving out.’

  ‘Marcy is not a threat to Howie,’ Paula says, her voice simmering with rage, ‘how dare you, Dave.’

  ‘Dave’ Howie says coldly, ‘can you track as you run?’

  ‘No,’ Paula cuts in before Dave can answer, ‘Dave stays with the bus and you’ll tell him right now to never ever react to Marcy like that again,’ she says glaring at Howie.

  ‘Dave, Marcy isn’t a threat to me. Do not do that again.’

  ‘We are putting the drone up,’ Paula says, her face flushed from anger, ‘Nick, give Howie a cigarette, someone find a soft drink to get in him. Christ, Howie,’ she adds shaking her head, ‘you and Marcy had bloody sex last night…where was Dave then?’

  ‘Whoa,’ Clarence says, ‘too loud, Paula.’

  ‘No. Not loud enough. Dave only listens to you, Howie. How dare you let him do that to Marcy. Anyone of us has the right to touch you and it doesn’t mean we’re going to hurt you…’

  ‘Paula,’ Marcy says, ‘leave it, Dave’s autistic…’

  ‘It’s not an excuse,’ Paula rages, ‘he was in the bloody army for long enough to know right from wrong. We cannot save everyone, Howie. We can’t. We just fucking can’t save everyone. Is it not enough for you what we did yesterday? Ten thousand?’

  ‘Enough,’ Blowers calls out, ‘everyone on the bus can hear you.’

  Paula turns away, her face set and simmering with rage. Howie stares ahead, his gaze distant and cold. An awkward silence starts and one that stretches as Marcy stands mutely watching Howie and Clarence glowering at Dave who watches everyone.

  ‘Drone will be up in a sec,’ Nick calls out as he rushes over holding a cigarette and a bottle of water, ‘soft drinks are all gone. Want me to look in the house?’

  ‘No it’s fine,’ Marcy says with a gentle smile at Nick, ‘thanks, Nick.’

  ‘Boss?’ Nick holds the cigarette and water out.

  ‘Cheers,’ Howie takes them both and waits as Nick reaches out with his lighter.

  ‘You got another one?’ Paula asks.

  ‘Yeah sure,’ Nick says p
ulling his pack from his pocket.

  ‘Thanks,’ Paula inhales deeply before blowing the smoke away in the thick atmosphere above their heads. ‘I love you, Howie,’ she mutters, ‘God knows we all do but don’t push so hard. We all want the same thing.’

  Words spoken and the simplicity of them slam home as he finally blinks and looks round, ‘okay, sorry.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ Paula says with a heavy sigh, ‘we can’t all be this bloody close and not argue…right?’ She looks round at the others, ‘no harm done, just words,’ she reaches a hand out to touch Howie’s arm, ‘you okay?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah sorry,’ he says.

  She tuts and moves in to give him a quick hug, ‘families argue, we’re family right?’

  ‘We are,’ Howie says, breathing out to release the knot of pulsing rage in his gut as Paula clasps him close then releases and moves to Marcy, ‘family right?’ She says, pulling Marcy in for the hug that Dave needs to see.

  ‘Family,’ Marcy says, squeezing her arms round Paula.

  ‘Dave,’ Paula says, pulling back from Marcy, ‘families argue. That’s allowed.’

  ‘I will never hurt, Howie,’ Marcy says, ‘I promise, Dave.’

  ‘I cannot tell,’ Dave says, his voice flat and cold. ‘You were shouting. You were angry. I cannot read your expressions.’

  ‘Dave,’ Clarence says, ‘do you ever think I will harm Howie?’

  ‘I would not let you. I will not let any of you.’

  ‘That wasn’t the question,’ Marcy says, ‘Clarence was asking if you think, right now, if he would ever try and hurt Howie.’

  ‘No,’ Dave says.

  ‘Then look at me for my reaction before you react,’ Clarence says, ‘or Paula or Blowers or Cookey or Nick…’

  ‘I trust Mr Howie,’ Dave says, ‘and Mohammed.’

  ‘Me?’ Mo blanches.

  ‘Dave,’ Paula says, ‘look at me,’ she waits for his cold eyes to fix unblinking on hers and such is the intensity that she has to fight not to look away, ‘from now on you will look to Mo or one of us before you react like that again.’

  ‘It will be too slow,’ Dave says, his eyes still unblinking.