by Ricky Fleet
“So they gave you a slap, are you telling me you didn’t deserve it?” he sneered.
“Fucking arsehole. You’re as bad as they are!” Debbie complained and went to stand up until Mike held her wrist, squeezing.
“Now I see why you got the slap. Come, sit back down,” he coaxed, patting the seat, smiling.
“That hurt!” Debbie muttered, massaging her wrist, meeting his gaze.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t like it,” Mike continued.
“Well that depends who’s doing it, doesn’t it?” she said seductively, rubbing against him.
“Yes it does,” he smiled, but there was no mirth in the grin. “So what’s your story, how the hell did you end up with them?”
“Peter, the square with the broken ribs, was my fiancé,” she answered with a grimace.
“Was?” he said, stroking her leg.
“Yeah, he is a pussy, letting them treat me like this, so I dumped him. He can go to Hell. I’d hurt him if I had the chance,” she growled.
“Now, that’s not very nice,” Mike said with mock disapproval. “What would you do to him?”
“I’d cut his balls off and feed them to him,” she grinned.
“Ouch,” his hand was roaming higher up her leg, closer to the cleft of her jeans. “What else?”
“I’d cut his throat and feed him to the zombies. I’d kill all of them,” she stated and their eyes met.
“Really?” Mike’s hand came away and she mistook this for condemnation.
“No, I was only joking. I’m not a psycho,” she blustered as he stood.
“Hmm, that’s a shame.” He locked eyes, and then walked away, back into the warmer room, leaving her alone and confused.
**********
“Where do you both sleep?” Kurt asked, expecting them to share a bed as a couple.
“There are two bedrooms and a lounge upstairs, with another door to separate it from the pub. It means if those things got in, we would have plenty of warning before they ate us,” Mike explained, staring intently at Peter who didn’t notice. He was too absorbed with his pain.
“Can we sleep down here?” Paige asked, wanting to keep Peter warm. The colour had returned to his face, the blue tinge gone from his lips.
“Of course you can. You can stay upstairs with us though if you wish,” Jodi offered.
“No thanks,” Kurt declined. “Would you mind showing me around.”
“Why?” Mike narrowed his eyes.
“Just in case we have to leave in a hurry,” Kurt explained.
“You mean, if those things you brought with you get in here?” Mike demanded. The rest of the group shuffled uneasily at the new tension and Jodi sighed.
“They were outside anyway, or have you forgotten?” she said. “We are no worse off than before, except we have new friends now.”
“They aren’t my friends,” Mike answered, looking at them all with mistrust.
“Mike, what the hell has gotten into you?” Jodi challenged him.
“Nothing, everything is rosy,” he replied, then finished his drink and walked out of the room, heading for the upper floor.
“We will leave tomorrow. I’m sorry that we complicated things for you both,” Gloria apologised.
“No, I’m sorry. I don’t know what his problem is. Ever since the shit hit the fan, he has been talking about making a break for it to find his brother, who’s in prison.”
“It must be hard to not know what has happened,” Kurt commiserated, feeling guilty he had caused more uncertainty. “Do you have family?” he asked Jodi.
She looked down and answered softly. “I have a mum and dad, but I think they are gone. They lived in the middle of Chichester; I don’t think they could have survived this.”
“Don’t lose hope, Love,” John tried to comfort her, “They could be safe and secure, you never know.”
“No, it’s better if I think the worst; their home is not very safe. I have grieved for them already.” Jodi was welling up and Kurt felt like a total idiot for even asking, what were the chances she hadn’t lost people?
“I’m sorry, Jodi, I can be such an ass at times.” Kurt wanted the ground to swallow him up.
“Don’t be silly.” Jodi wiped her eyes, smiling again. “You couldn’t know. And it’s probably better they don’t have to struggle through this. They weren’t in the best of health. Anyway, let’s do the tour.”
**********
“The toilets are through there,” Jodi explained unnecessarily, the stick figure of a man and woman showed the way. “They are self-contained; no way out so there are only two other doors we need to worry about.”
Jodi signalled for Kurt to come into the other bar area, and he saw another reason the front door was still standing. The old brickwork was inlaid with four iron brackets that held two sections of timber, laid across the door itself to brace it. They had been put in hundreds of years ago, but the thickness of the metal kept them strong. Originally they were designed to secure the property from raids by the authorities of the day, protecting the illegal booty. Now the thick planks sat in the iron holders, dissipating some of the force of the zombies.
Jodi lifted the bar hatch for Kurt and he walked under and into the serving area. The bottles of spirits hung from the rack ready to pour, backed by mirrors that reflected Kurt. He was shocked at the visage, dirty, straggly haired and days old stubble that would soon be a full blown beard. Before the horror, he had never countenanced growing facial hair, but with each day the dark hair lengthened, insulating his face from the cold. He felt for the women, but they wouldn’t look as good with it, a scarf would have to suffice.
“This is where the magic happens,” Jodi laughed, walking down towards the rear door. “Business has been a bit quiet lately though, the customers aren’t as friendly.”
“How safe is the other door?” Kurt enquired without much concern. Jodi and Mike had survived here since the outbreak of the dead.
“It’s as strong as the front one, plus we have wedged a heavy freezer against it. Our kitchen doesn’t have windows, so we haven’t even heard them out there,” Jodi explained, holding the door open for John, who had joined them.
They walked into a small corridor, with a staircase to the right that led up to the bedrooms. Set in a small alcove there was an open trapdoor in the floor, revealing a set of wooden steps that led down into a pitch black void.
“The cellar,” Jodi said over her shoulder, walking past and pushing the remaining door open.
The kitchen was small but well equipped with highly polished stainless steel counters sat in the middle. To the left was the freezer pressed against the rear door. The deep sink was full of dirty dishes since to the water supply was no longer running. She caught the look of amusement on their face.
“Sorry, we have been using our bottled water to live. Our hygiene has taken a back seat,” Jodi shrugged nonchalantly.
“We are not as fresh as daisies either.” Kurt smelled his own armpits; the odour would have curdled milk.
“There’s nothing like a zombie outbreak to take us back to the dark ages, we could really do with some plague, that would top it off,” Jodi said and the men chuckled.
“At least we are secure. How do you get the kegs into the cellar?” John enquired, leaving the kitchen and making for the trapdoor, taking out a small pencil torch.
“We had a lift installed. It was the only modern thing in the place. There used to be a ramp that they would roll the barrels down, but we blocked that up. You won’t need the torch, we have a couple of Coleman lanterns.” She reached into the darkness and retrieved one. Opening the glass, she lit the wick and the flame drove back the shadows, showing them the cellar floor.
They descended to the bottom of the ancient stairs. The basement was typical of the era, with hard impacted dirt instead of other floor finishes. The wine racks stretched off into the distance, there were fifteen feet of cobweb covered bottles. Fat spiders skittered on the webbing,
retreating from the light, preferring to hunt in the dark for whatever poor insect was unfortunate enough to become their prey.
“The kegs are back here.” Jodi took them between the ornate, carved bottle holders. Kurt pondered the loss of the skills that had gone into making the beautiful racking many years ago. The uprights had vines, leaves, and fruit chiselled in the grain, reaching from floor to ceiling. Their wine rack at home had comprised strips of timber glued together, lacking any character, mass produced for a throwaway culture.
“Have you checked behind the racks for a door?” Kurt asked, trying to pull himself out of the bout of melancholy at the thought of his lost home.
“It’s all solid. The racks are fixed to the stone itself,” Jodi answered as she reached the open area for the barrels. The ales and lager were stacked in neat rows on each side, with an old hydraulic system for the hand drawn mead and electric pumps to provide pressure for the lager. The walls of the room were also stone, with no visible cracks or splits that would signal a hidden door.
“Shit.” Kurt was angry that he had fallen for an obvious marketing scam. The local tourism authority had probably thought visitors would be intrigued by the old tales of highway robbery and skulduggery. The masked raiders like Dick Turpin, a legend even to this day.
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you,” Jodi apologised.
“It’s not your fault. It was bound to be pie in the sky. We just have to come up with another plan,” John said as he was reaching between the metal cylinders, rapping on the stone, still hoping for a hollow echo to signal the way.
“Is that the ramp?” Kurt asked. There was a sloped tunnel, roughly two and a half foot square, with a wooden trough full of sand embedded in the ground to stop the barrels from rolling away at the bottom. No sliver of light penetrated at the top.
“We had it sealed properly, to deter thieves. It’s all bricked up now. This was the replacement.” Jodi showed them the lift, a small version suitable for only two kegs at a time. It was designed for alcohol, not people. The top was made up of two steel shutters, which would be unlocked and laid open for the drink to be loaded. They would stop anything getting down into the cellar and Kurt finally relaxed, satisfied of the precautions for now.
“There is nowhere else is there? No hidden areas?” Kurt asked, just in case.
“I’m afraid not. Why don’t we go have a look around the bedrooms?” Jodi walked off, the lantern illuminating the wine storage, plunging Kurt and John back into the gloom.
“I think one bedroom is like another, we should get back to the family. I think Mike could do with the peace and quiet anyway,” John suggested and Jodi agreed.
“Listen, I will make you some food, not canned stuff,” Jodi offered, defying her partner. She extinguished the lantern, placing it back on the shelf and left them for the kitchen.
John took advantage of the isolation the corridor provided.
“Son, we are in a bind. You know we will never make it through the northern housing estates, there will be thousands and we will be out in the open,” John articulated his fears.
“Where can we go then? Back to the farm, find an isolated place to hide out?” Kurt was frustrated too, their lives depended on him.
“We don’t know how they act. We can’t be sure that they won’t migrate when the food runs out. Even if a quarter of the population of Chichester heads toward us, that’s thirty thousand corpses,” John pointed out. The possibility of a swarm of that magnitude finding them made Kurt understand the gravity of their plight.
“We need somewhere with thick walls,” Kurt announced. “We need the castle.”
**********
Jodi brought the food through and they ate, relishing her culinary skills. They sat in the warmth, ignoring the occasional stomping coming from the upper floor where Mike signalled his continued displeasure. Jodi shook her head in apology.
“More have joined the party, there are forty or more out front and round the side of the building,” Braiden told them from the window, the heavy curtains shielding him from view.
“We will need to lower that number before we move out. We will come up with a plan in the morning to get out and leave Mike and yourself safe once we are gone.” Kurt was thinking about using the upper floor for Sam to hone his slingshot skills. It may be disgusting, but they would benefit from reclaiming some of the ammunition after it had mashed brain tissue.
“Thank you for dinner, Jodi. It was lovely.” Sam smiled. “Where do you want me to put the plates?”
“That’s ok, I’ll take them,” Jodi replied, stacking the plates expertly on her arms, displaying her waitressing skills. The group clapped quietly as she gracefully used her elbow to lift the hatch and open the door, finally bowing before making her exit.
“I like her,” Paige said and Honey looked up from the warm carpet, wagging her tail.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me,” muttered Debbie. “Two kiss asses together.”
“She is worth ten of you,” Paige smiled, politely insulting Debbie.
“You’re welcome to her. I will be staying here, with Mike,” Debbie spat back.
“No, you won’t,” Kurt stated, watching the fire through the glass. Debbie turned her attention to him, glaring her usual venom.
“What the fuck do you mean? You don’t get to tell me what to do,” she snarled, standing up. Kurt did likewise and stood nose to nose with her.
“If you think I would inflict you on that lovely woman, you are sadly mistaken. You will be coming with us, even if I have to tie you up and drag you behind me like a dog,” Kurt spoke quietly, the threat not needing to be shouted. She searched his eyes and knew that he meant it. Backing away, she pushed past him, going to find her new ‘friend’.
“Mike won’t let you take me, I’ll make sure of that,” she sneered.
“I’m afraid he won’t have a choice, sweetie,” grinned Gloria, stroking the black barrel of the shotgun.
“Fuck off!” Debbie shouted and ran out, crashing through the bar door and nearly knocking Jodi over in her haste.
“What was that all about?” Jodi enquired. She knew something was up between them all and the dark haired, angry lady. Kurt let Peter explain the long and arduous journey, her evil outbursts and general vile demeanour. Jodi was shocked to find out that Peter had lived with the woman and had been betrothed. As time went on, Peter found himself asking the same questions, how he could have ever come close to formalising their awful pairing with a wedding? Looking across at Paige, she smiled at him and his heart skipped a beat. This was the lady he wanted above all others. Hopefully she felt the same.
“It’s getting dark; we should all turn in for the night. Thank you so much for opening up and letting us in, you saved our lives,” Sarah suggested, noticing the yawns and bleary eyes of the group. First light would allow them to think clearly and decide how to best extricate themselves from the pub, and their next destination.
“I agree. You look like you all had a hell of a day. If you need anything, please just tap the ceiling there.” Jodi pointed to a section in the other bar area. “That’s where my bed is, I will come straight down.”
“Thanks so much, Love, we are in your debt.” John shook her hand, the grip was firm and John respected the lady even more.
“Sleep tight.” She smiled and walked off, the sounds of her creaking footfalls climbing the stairs carrying over the noise of the undead outside.
The family drifted off quickly, only Peter remained awake. The discomfort that had been somewhat numbed by more painkillers and a couple of shots of vodka, yet would still ensure he remained awake most of the night. He wondered where Debbie was and what she was doing. He didn’t feel any emotional attachment toward his ex-fiancée, only guilt at the thought of leaving her alone somewhere. Maybe this was the best place for her. Thoughts spun through his mind, if they could convince Jodi to come with them, the decision would be easy. She seemed strong and resourceful and would make a great a
ddition to the survivors group. The noises of creaking from above caught his attention, but this wasn’t footsteps. It was constant, rhythmic. Debbie was having sex with Mike.
Chapter 11
Sam awoke with an aching bladder. They had drunk several bottles of cola and water during the evening. Honey looked up, acknowledged his quick stroke and fell back to sleep. He stepped over the rest of the group and pushed through the swing door into the toilet. The smell of pine disinfectant was on the air and fresh urinal cakes were in the troughs. The door swung closed, blocking the soft glow of the wood burners’ fire. Sam held his arms out and walked forward, feeling for the tiled wall. He found the cold, smooth surface and unzipped, aiming at the point where he knew the bowl to be. The sound of him emptying his bladder finished and was replaced with a quiet grumble. It wasn’t his belly, it was more a vibration, difficult to pinpoint. It seemed to come from all around him, were there that many zombies outside? The vibration increased in intensity, it was like a steady drone, not at all like the sharp hammering of dead limbs on surfaces. He zipped up and pushed back through into the bar, happy to be in company again.
“Dad, something is going on. There are noises.” Sam shook Kurt by the shoulder.
“What, where?” Kurt sat up immediately. The grogginess of awakening didn’t seem to affect the group anymore. As soon as they were awake it was like a light switch had been flicked in their minds, triggering instant alertness.
They went to the window and peeked through a small crack. There was indeed a steady vibration, pulsing and reverberating from the walls and glass.
“What the hell is it?” Kurt asked the dark night and walking horrors. Movement from the right caused them to crane their necks and they saw a large garbage truck creep slowly round the bend in the road. It stopped with a faint squeal of brakes and sat there, facing the pub, watchng.
“A rubbish truck? What are they doing?” Sam whispered to his father.
“I don’t know, mate, maybe they are just driving around trying to find a place to rest,” Kurt answered, watching the metal hulk in the pale moonlight. A few of the dead had broken off to go and investigate this new stimulus. The driver of the vehicle didn’t seem concerned as they reached him, banging on the side panels and moaning. The truck was put in gear and started to roll forward, crushing two of the intrigued cadavers under the wheels. Kurt strained to see into the dark cab but the moon only provided a shadowy outline of a person. It could have been a man or a woman.
