Flowers Vs. Zombies: The Complete Series

by Perrin Briar

  “You won’t have to put up with it for much longer,” Liz said. “I can’t wait to get back into cooking again.”

  “Anything but coconut,” Bill said. “I’m easy.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  JACK RAN at full tilt into the clearing.

  “Where have you been, Jack?” Liz said. “Your food’s cold.”

  Jack skidded, but failed to stop in time and bumped into the table. Fritz’s food slid off his plate and onto his lap.

  “Hey!” Fritz said. “Watch it!”

  “I saw a ship!” Jack said, ignoring his brother.

  “Is that unusual?” Ernest said. “We’ve all seen a ship the past few months – the galleon sinking in the bay.”

  “No, not that one!” Jack said. “A big one with black sails!”

  Bill looked up.

  “You saw a ship?” he said. “Where?”

  He got up, dropping his cloth on the table.

  “This way,” Jack said, leading Bill away from the table.

  Fritz wiped his mouth, got up and followed, Francis hot on his heels. Ernest continued to eat. Liz got to her feet.

  “You’re not going to go see the ship?” Liz said.

  “No,” Ernest said. “I’m going to enjoy eating in peace for a change.”

  He leaned over and helped himself to some of Fritz’s tiny potatoes.

  “Don’t touch mine,” Liz said.

  “Don’t tell Fritz and it’s a deal,” Ernest said.

  Liz ran down the path and followed it around the corner to the bluff of the cliff. Bill, Jack and Fritz stood on the edge, peering out at the wide gleaming white expanse of the ocean before them.

  “It was right there!” Jack said, pointing toward the horizon.

  “I believe you,” Bill said. “Which direction was it heading in?”

  “That way,” Jack said, pointing toward the long extended fingers of the cove.

  “No luck?” Liz said, shielding her eyes with her hand.

  “They must have gone around the cove,” Fritz said.

  “Did they have a flag?” Bill said to Jack.

  “I don’t remember,” Jack said, squinting with the memory. “Maybe.”

  “Should we set something up so they’ll see us next time?” Fritz said.

  Bill thought for a long moment, looking out at the glittering water of the ocean.

  “No,” he said, and turned and headed back toward their treehouse.

  Fritz and Liz watched as Bill ascended the path, absentminded, holding Francis’s forgotten hand.

  “We’d best be getting back to dinner,” Liz said. “Hopefully there’ll be some left.”

  Fritz looked at her and frowned. Then his eyes rose in the direction of the treehouse. He ran.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  LIZ APPROACHED Bill, who sat hunched over the little pink radio, polishing each piece with a worn rag under the dull yellow light of the torch.

  “I can’t seem to get it going again,” he said.

  “Maybe it’s not broken,” Liz said. “There might not be any signal to catch.”

  “The world turn silent?” Bill said. “I’m not sure if that’s possible.”

  “There were people on the ship Jack saw,” Liz said. “We should set up some kind of signalling device, don’t you think?”

  “I’m not sure contacting them is the best idea,” Bill said.

  “We shouldn’t be alone in the world,” Liz said. “Not when we don’t need to be.”

  “Sometimes being alone is the best thing,” Bill said. “Do you remember the petrol crisis fifteen years ago? The cost was too high so haulage companies were going out of business. They blocked the roads and prevented the fuel from being delivered. People couldn’t get to work. It brought the country to a standstill. People stockpiled as much food as they could.”

  “So?” Liz said.

  “So, if they were like that with fuel what are they going to be like when food, water and safety become scarce? I’m not saying we shouldn’t communicate with that ship, but we should be cautious. We’re lucky to be here. Some people might try to take it away from us. The world is not the same as we remember, and it’s too easy to forget that on the safety of this island.”

  A shadow of worry and concern was cast across Bill’s face.

  “What’s wrong, Bill?” Liz said. “You haven’t been the same since the bombers came. What is it?”

  Bill turned and Liz saw just how dark the grey circles around his eyes were.

  “You need to get some sleep,” Liz said.

  “I’m getting enough sleep to do what I’m doing,” Bill said. He shook his head. “I don’t know what made me think coming out to this part of the world would make our lives better.”

  “Who knows what our lives would be like now if we’d stayed in Chucerne. Talk to me, Bill. If you don’t talk to me who are you going to talk to? The chimps? The owls? There’s no one else here. Tell me what’s on your mind. You never used to have a problem talking to me.”

  “I don’t now, either,” Bill said. “Everything’s fine.”

  That night Liz slept hardly a wink. She was facing Bill’s back. He’d started turning away from her while he slept. Before, he’d always liked to hold her while they drifted to sleep. Liz would roll him over onto his side of the bed before lying back on her own. At times she’d found it stifling, but now she yearned to feel his touch and warmth on her skin.

  She watched his form now and noticed his torso did not rise and fall with the steady rhythmic undulations of sleep, but the shallow ones of wakefulness. She didn’t disturb him. Resting was better than nothing.

  The sun rose above the jungle canopy, turning the sky from black to deep blue. The benefit of having no walls was the fantastic views every morning. Bill began to stir. He threw his feet over the side of the bed and sat there, unmoving. After a while, he got up and dressed.

  Bill climbed down the ladder to the ground outside. The sea, calm and gentle, breathed in and out, caressing the shore the way a loving husband touched his wife. Liz felt sad.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  LIZ GOT UP the next day with a bounce in her step. She washed, changed, and hopped down the ladder, crossing the clearing at a jog toward the allotment. She first passed a chunk of leaves, wadded up and wet like they’d been chewed up and spat out. Her heart almost stopped. She ran the remaining distance to the allotment, her breath catching in her throat.

  “No!” she said, and even to her ears she sounded overdramatic.

  She dropped to her knees, picking up peach stones and letting them slip between her fingers. Shreds of green cabbage leaves and brown potato skin peels lay discarded in small half-eaten piles. Liz leaned her head against a tree trunk.

  Footprints of a dozen different animal species, large, small, thin, bird-shaped, round and punctured populated the allotment like they’d performed some kind of complicated dance. She turned to face the jungle and jabbed her fingers at the foliage.

  “Damn you!” she screamed. “Damn you all to hell!”

  Bill came running across the clearing. He saw Liz on her knees in the soil.

  “Liz?” he said. “What’s happened?”

  “The animals!” Liz said. “They’ve eaten all my fruit and vegetables!”

  Bill took in the area, the wanton destruction.

  “Looks like you were right,” he said. “Your fruit and veg were ripe. I’m so sorry, Liz. I know what this allotment meant to you.”

  “It’s no good,” Liz said. “I’ll never grow anything here. This place is doomed.”

  “You did manage to grow,” Bill said.

  “But not to eat,” Liz said.

  Bill pressed his fingers to the footprints.

  “At least there’s some good news,” he said.

  “What’s that?” Liz said.

  “The creature that ate this was small, with hoofed feet,” Bill said.

  “Why’s that good news?” Liz said.

 
“Because it means we have cattle on this island,” Bill said. “If we can track them down and catch them we could have a ready supply of meat, maybe even milk.”

  “Which animals?”

  “Pigs,” Bill said.

  “How do you know that?” Liz said.

  “I grew up on a farm, remember,” Bill said. “There are two things you never forget about a farm: every little thing about the animals, and the smell. And these prints here. Goats, I think.”

  “Goats!” Liz said. “How ever did they all end up on this remote speck of an island?”

  “Something had to,” Bill said. “Maybe Noah made a quick stop off and dumped a couple of the more unruly beasts. Or maybe because of the smell.”

  He picked up a baby cabbage and weighed it in his hand.

  “They haven’t destroyed everything,” he said. “They left some of the fruit and veg.”

  “Just enough for a small salad,” Liz said.

  “Or a fresh set of superior crops,” Bill said.

  “Start again?” Liz said. “I’m not sure if I can. Ferrying all that poo… All for nothing. That’s it. I’m not growing vegetables any more. I’ve had enough.”

  “I can build you a fence, if you want,” Bill said.

  “A fence around an empty allotment?” Liz said, pouting. “Seems a waste of time to me.”

  “I think we both know you’re going to try again,” Bill said.

  Liz folded her arms under her breasts and turned her head away.

  “You’re not the type to quit,” Bill said. “You’re worse than a dog with a new chew toy when you want something.”

  Liz stared at him.

  “Was that a compliment or an insult?” she said.

  “Very much a compliment,” Bill said.

  He bent down, picked up a soiled shovel and handed it to her.

  “Get back to work,” he said.

  Liz pulled her hand back, hesitating once before finally taking it.

  “If I fail again I’m blaming you,” she said.

  “Weren’t you going to anyway?” Bill said. “I’ll get the boys. We’ll start working on your fence now.”

  “There’s no rush,” Liz said. “It’ll take a while before the seeds start sprouting. Again.”

  “We both know you won’t leave me alone until I get the job done,” Bill said.

  A smile cracked through Liz’s anger at that, but she forced it off her face again as she bent down and began clearing away the detritus.

  Beauty sat to the side on her perch, feathers flustered and very put upon.

  “Don’t worry, Beauty,” Liz said. “I know it’s not your fault.”

  Beauty screeched.

  “I know how you feel,” Liz said.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “LOOK AT HIM,” Fritz said. “Bold as brass. Not a care in the world. No care that he destroyed our main source of food. I have a mind to go over there and give him a damn good thrashing.”

  The goat stood in the middle of a small clearing chewing on a mouthful of tough grass. It cast a lazy eye over its surroundings.

  “How do you propose we capture him?” Ernest said. “If he runs we’ll never get him.”

  “I could sneak up behind him,” Jack said. “He’s too busy chomping to notice.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Bill said. “His ears are already turned toward us. He knows we’re here.”

  “Then why doesn’t he run?” Ernest said. “If it were me I’d be out of here like a shot.”

  “That’s because you’re a wimp,” Fritz said.

  “Am not!” Ernest said.

  “Quiet!” Bill said. “Though Ernest does pose an intriguing question. Why doesn’t he just leg it? But suppose he’s never seen a man before. Suppose he doesn’t know what to make of us. Suppose he naturally trusts a creature that doesn’t appear to show much interest in it – the herd on the plains mentality. If I don’t appear aggressive, why should it run?”

  Bill reached up and pulled down a length of thick green vine. He turned one end around itself into a slipknot. Then Bill stood up to his full height and slowly took a step toward the goat. It eyed him warily but didn’t run. Bill took another step, and the goat stepped away again, becoming skittish. Bill got on his hands and knees.

  “What is he doing?” Fritz said.

  “He’s making himself as small and as unintimidating as possible,” Ernest said.

  “If he wanted unintimidating he should have sent you,” Fritz said.

  Bill kept his eyes on the ground, shuffling forward on his hands until he felt something nibbling on the top of his head. The goat was sniffing his hair, no doubt sensing it would serve as a delicious appetiser.

  Bill slipped the vine up over the goat’s muzzle and ears and slid it around his neck. Bill tightened it so it wouldn’t slip free, and then tied a knot so it wouldn’t strangle the poor creature. Bill got to his feet and waved the boys over.

  “It’s okay,” Bill said. “I’ve got him.”

  The boys rose and approached. The goat stepped back, disturbed by the sudden accumulation of unknown bodies.

  “Sh, sh, sh, sh, sh,” Bill said to the goat. “It’s all right.”

  “Mission accomplished,” Ernest said. “That was refreshingly easy.”

  “Let’s head back to the treehouse,” Fritz said.

  The goat turned to walk in the opposite direction.

  “Too late, pal,” Ernest said. “We’ve already caught you.”

  “It wants to take us somewhere,” Bill said.

  “To some green grass, no doubt,” Fritz said.

  The goat mehed.

  “Father’s right,” Ernest said. “He wants to take us somewhere.”

  The goat led them between two large trees. He leaned down to nibble at the shafts of grass.

  “Surprise, surprise,” Fritz said.

  Meh! Another goat said beyond the rise.

  “Ernest?” Fritz said. “Was that you?”

  “Yes,” Ernest said, voice dripping sarcasm. “How did you know? I’ve been working on throwing my voice lately.”

  “Quiet,” Bill said.

  The goat finished munching and proceeded over the rise. Sunlight streamed through the canopy like a half-drawn curtain. Glimmering motes, like planets spun out into space by a benevolent sun, danced before them. Butterflies flittered over the orchestra of flowers, chasing one another.

  The world was full of green and yellow tinted colours and plant life, a portrait begging to be captured by an artist. The ground felt like sponge under their feet. Looking down, Bill identified a thick moss.

  “This would make great blankets, don’t you think?” Ernest said, rubbing his hand over it.

  “That it would,” Bill said. “See if you can pull it up.”

  Ernest tucked his fingers underneath it, lifting it, gently at first. But Bill’s eye was taken with something else.

  “Oh my God,” he said. “Jack, take this.”

  He handed the vine leash over to Jack. Bill knelt down and felt the soft underside petals of a bluebell. Then his fingers traced a flower with two long lines of tiny pearl-like berries.

  “We’ve struck gold!” Bill said.

  “Are they worth a lot of money?” Fritz said.

  “More than money,” Bill said, opening his backpack. “Give me a hand with some of these. Be careful. We need to take them whole.”

  “What are they?” Fritz said. “And don’t say ‘flowers’.”

  “They’re plants-”

  “I know they’re plants!” Fritz said.

  “-we’ll use for medicinal purposes,” Bill said.

  He held up the bluebell-shaped flower.

  “This is a Chilly,” he said.

  “Chilly,” Fritz said. “No one could come up with a better name than that?”

  “It doesn’t matter what they call it,” Bill said. “It’s what it can do that matters. This flower, when properly prepared, can significantly lowe
r fevers.”

  “What about that yellow one?” Fritz said.

  “This one,” Bill said, holding it up, “is a Mint Freshener.”

  “What does it do?” Fritz said.

  “It cures halitosis,” Bill said.

  “Ernest could do with that,” Fritz said. “What about that one?”

  “This one,” Bill said, plucking a purple bulb flower consisting almost entirely of needles, “is a Deew.”

  “What does it do?” Fritz said.

  “It makes you speak backwards,” Bill said.

  Fritz frowned. Then he rolled his eyes.

  “Weed,” Fritz said. “It’s a weed?”

  “Not all these plants were lucky enough to be born with special properties, you know,” Bill said. “Sometimes they’re just here to make a nuisance of themselves.”

  “Sounds familiar,” Fritz said drily, looking at Jack.

  Ernest rolled the moss up into a wide column and held it over his shoulder like a soldier with a gun.

  “This place is a pharmacist’s dream,” Bill said. “Be careful where you put your foot. A wrong turn and you might kill one of us. There are many naturally occurring medicines here. When combined we get painkillers, salves, allsorts.”

  “Any cannabis?” Fritz said.

  Bill glared at him. Fritz beamed and held up his hands.

  “Purely for medicinal purposes,” he said.

  Bill gently put his backpack on, as if he carried the cure for cancer inside.

  Meh!

  In Bill’s excitement he’d forgotten why he’d come to the clearing in the first place. Three goats of varying size and colour stood on the edge of the clearing, two young kids behind them. The goat tethered to the vine leash in Jack’s hand pulled. But Jack did not let go.

  Meh!

  “Shall I let him go play with them?” Jack said.

  “No,” Bill said. “Not yet. Everyone wait here. Crouch down. Get some vines. We’ll make more leashes and take them all back home with us.”

  Bill took the leashed goat and extra leads. He led the goat across the clearing. The other goats eyed him warily, but as Bill’s goat seemed unperturbed they lowered their heads back down to eat.