by Watts, Russ
Joe sprang back in shock. A small dog, yipping with excitement, jumped out past him. The dog ran off instantly, barrelling under cars and through legs, out into the road where it quickly disappeared into the fog. Relieved, Joe went to the driver’s door and tried the engine. It whined pathetically and the headlights died. The car had been left on all night and the battery was dead. He gave up and carried on searching.
“Hey,” said Miguel, anxiously, “this one. This one!” He was standing outside of a people carrier that would easily take them all. He had started the engine and honked the horn, once, so they could all find it.
As one, they all swooped to it clambering in. “Not very quick on its feet,” said Joe, “but it’ll do for now.”
The young woman approached Evan. “I’m Amane. Thank you for helping me.”
Her words were genuine, but spoken in a hushed soft tone. She was slightly younger than Evan was. Her eyes were a deep brown, matching her long hair. She looked Japanese, although she had an Australian accent and Evan thought she looked pretty, yet very sad. She had seemed to know the old woman that Joe had knocked down and he thought he would ask her about it later. The sound of the advancing zombies was growing louder every second, so the priority was to get away.
“That’s all right. I’m Evan. Let’s get out of here, okay?” He nudged her to the van. There was no time for chatting now. Joe got behind the wheel and then, making sure everyone was in, Evan leant through the passenger door.
“Joe, that gate is blocking the way. I’m going to move it, and then we’d better step on it.” Joe peered through and saw what Evan was talking about. The chain-link fence around the rental park was bent and smashed open, probably torn down in desperation by people fleeing in stolen cars. A large flat section was hanging off the post, blocking the exit.
Evan ran over and began dragging it back so the car could get through, out onto the open road. The metal scraped on the concrete; the screeching, scratching sound jarred horribly in Evan’s thudding head.
Joe watched open mouthed in horror as a figure emerged from the gloom beside Evan. The shadowy zombie rose up from the ground between two cars silently, advancing on Evan who was looking in the opposite direction. Joe hit the horn to alert Evan and put the car into drive.
Evan looked up, confused and startled by the horn. He saw the crowd of dead advancing down the road toward them and then bristled, as clawing fingers clutched his arm. He whirled round and came face to face with a walking corpse. It was dressed in uniform, its shirt in pieces exposing flaps of shredded skin. The zombie’s face had been sheared of its skin. Its bulging, staring eyes locked onto Evan and bearing sharp teeth, the zombie suddenly bore down on him. Its grotesque face appeared in front of him with alarming speed and Evan, startled, swung at the creature. He barrelled into it, both of them ploughing into the chain-link fence. As the zombie reeled, Evan grabbed the golf club from the ground and aimed a blow at the thing’s head. He missed as the zombie jerked toward Evan, only connecting softly with its shoulder. They both tripped over the fencing and fell down onto the cold, hard road.
Lying on his back but still holding onto the club, Evan forced it horizontally above his face just as the zombie’s jaws descended, snapping onto the metal club inches from Evans’ face, splashing him with gore and blood. Teeth smashed free of the zombie’s mouth as it bit the club and they bounced off Evan’s cheeks onto the ground. Drool and blood sprayed Evan’s face and the stench emanating from the zombies rotten mouth made Evan gag. With trembling arms, Evan could barely keep the zombie at bay, its hunger to kill seemingly providing it with never-ending energy. It was like a berserk animal, intent on eating Evan alive.
Just as his grip on the club was weakening, Evan heard an engine and headlights flashed on his face. Joe drove his nine-iron full force into the zombies head, sending it tumbling off Evan who scrambled to his feet. The zombie staggered upright and Joe stabbed the blunt end of the club into its mouth and through the other side, pinning it against the chain-link fence. Barbwire caught on the zombie’s head, sinking into rotting flesh and digging in with tiny vicious claws. It was enough to hold the zombie back briefly and Evan and Joe ran back to the car. The dead horde on the road was now close enough to smell.
They tore out, tires screeching, as hundreds of zombies reached the car yard. Some of the zombies at the front of the pack managed to reach the car as it pulled out. Arms, hands, and bodies all ran full pelt into the side of the car. Karyn and the children screamed in the back as hideous faces of dead men and women slammed up against the windows.
“Move it, move it!” shouted Miguel. A one-armed soldier caught on a back door handle and the door flew open. The soldier lunged and grabbed Miguel’s arm as he tried to pull the door closed. The soldier lost its grip on Miguel as the weight of the zombies behind knocked it down and it rolled under the car. Miguel yanked the door shut and recoiled further into the back of the car, staring in terror as the wave of zombies swept toward them. Evan pushed the lock down on his side, securing all the doors.
Joe struggled to keep the car level as the force of dozens of zombies ploughing into one side threatened to knock them over. For a few feet, Joe thought they were going to succeed. He kept his foot down, barely flinching as he swept over and through the mass of dead funnelling into the front of the car. Heads rolled and crushed under the wheels. Blood sprayed over the windows and Joe had to turn the wipers on so he could see. As the zombie’s thinned out, he got enough grip back on the road to pull away. Joe was grateful the road was empty, as at this speed in fog, anything blocking the way would bring them to a very quick, and painful, stop.
A moment later and they were clear, the ravenous horde behind them swallowed up by the dense fog. Joe slowed down slightly, reluctant to go so fast but desperate to put some distance between themselves and the airport. The fog was clearing, but still. Evan turned around and looked at the pale faces staring back at him. Miguel had his eyes closed and seemed to be praying. Karyn and her children were hugging, silent, and Amane looked like she was in shock, her eyes glazed and vacant. He turned back to Joe.
“How far is the house? Can you make it?” Evan was tenderly feeling his head. The attack had opened yesterday’s wounds, which were now seeping. He dabbed at the open wounds with a rag from the car floor. Joe was hunched over the wheel, straining to see.
“On a good day, it’s a thirty minute drive. Today? I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “Plus we have to go through a pretty big built up area to get there. If the airport’s anything to go by, I don’t think we’ll be on our own.”
Joe swung the car around an abandoned limo. The driver was draped out of the open door, intestines splayed out as if on show for a museum. The man’s face was battered beyond recognition and a large pool of blood had collected beneath his mangled head. Joe turned away in disgust and pity.
Evan watched the houses and shops drift by. The fog gradually lifted to a thin haze and the sun began poking through in patches. He was struck by how lifeless it was. A summer’s day in the city and there wasn’t a soul to be seen: no children playing, no shoppers, no traffic or music to fill the quiet air. As Joe weaved in and out of crashed cars, Evan looked closer at the houses and shops. Through broken windows, he saw figures moving around. When they drove past, frequently one would peer out at them. He wasn’t sure if they were alive or dead.
Sporadic fires were burning on the side of the road. A block of flats they passed had smoke pouring out of every window. At the base, a dozen or so zombies were milling around as if waiting for something. When the car went past, they started chasing it but they didn’t have the strength to run, and as they lurched along on unsteady legs and brittle bones, the pack of zombies receded along with the burning buildings. Evan found himself praying again, only this time he was not alone.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Hey, where are we going? We should go to my house. It’s just around the corner. My wife will be there.” Miguel had stopp
ed praying and began to take more notice in where they were headed. “Hey, hey, come on, we’re nearly there.”
Joe looked around at the endless houses and shops. “I don’t think it’s safe, Miguel. We’re going to Mrs Craven’s house, it’ll be safer there.” Joe continued driving and focused on getting the children back to their home.
Miguel reached forward and put his hand on Joe’s shoulder.
“Come on, mate, you can stop here for a minute.”
“I don’t think we have a choice, Joe. Look,” said Evan, pointing out of the window ahead of them.
The road ahead was blocked. An army blockade had cut off the road completely. Tanks, trucks, and vans were lined up, parked from house to house. Civilian cars sat three or four deep either side too, ensuring there was no way of moving any vehicle out of the way quickly and quietly. There was no way through.
“Maybe they can help us? Maybe there’s someone here?” said Amane, leaning forward. She had been so quiet that Evan had almost forgotten her. Karyn snorted and said something derisory under her breath.
“We’ll stop for a second and see, okay? But if there were any soldiers here, I think we would’ve seen them by now.” Evan rolled down his window and looked at the blank windows of the houses past the blockade. It was worryingly quiet.
Joe slowed the car down and pulled up in front of a barrier. No official personnel came out to see them. No armed soldiers greeted them. The blockade was deserted.
“We can’t drive around it, they’ve rammed those trucks right up to the side of the buildings,” said Joe, exasperated. “Fine. Miguel, can you find your house on foot from here?”
“Sure, easy, I’ve grown up here all my life! When we get there, you can relax, okay? We’ll be safe there. You can borrow my car if you really need but it’s okay, take it easy, you’ll see.” He seemed happy to be almost home, unaware of the potential dangers outside. They all got out of the car. Amane went to pick up Lucy.
“I can carry her for you,” she said to Karyn, offering Lucy a hand.
“No, she’s fine.” Karyn disregarded Amane’s offer of help and scooped Lucy up into her arms. “George, stick by my side. Follow Joe and me. When we get to this man’s house, we’ll borrow his car and go home. Just us.”
“Just trying to help,” said Amane, shrugging her shoulders.
Karyn walked up to Amane and looked her up and down.
“If it wasn’t for you, we would have been halfway home by now. I don’t need to know you. Or who that stupid fuckwit was who ran out in front of us. Just stay away from me.”
Amane was too shocked to reply. Evan offered Amane a club as Karyn walked away.
“Sorry. Here, take this.”
“Thanks. I just thought...” Amane fought back tears and took the club. Evan could see she was fragile right now.
“Look, ignore her, her bark’s worse than her bite. Stick by Joe and me.” He gave her a reassuring smile.
Miguel started jogging off down a side street. “Come on, follow me!” They all followed him, Joe just behind.
“Hey, Miguel, don’t go shouting too loud okay, we don’t want to attract any attention.”
Miguel ignored him and jogged further down the deserted side street, flanked on both sides by old wooden houses and high picket fences. The only sound came from the disparate group running for the safety of Miguel’s house. The sun had burnt off the morning haze and despite a few vanishing clouds, the sun shone from a rich, blue sky, heating the city up.
Up ahead, Miguel had stopped and waved at the others to join him.
“Here, you see, my house. Easy!”
Evan winced as Miguel shouted out again a little too loudly, worrying who or what, the noise might attract. Maybe he was being too cautious. Maybe it would be safe. If Miguel had a car, he could borrow it and get to the harbour. Joe would help him. Seeing Karyn holding her children close only made Evan think more about his own children. He longed to be able to hold them close like her. Miguel’s talk of his wife also made Evan wonder if he would ever get to see his wife again. He picked up the pace and watched as Miguel opened a side gate and disappeared through. Joe followed behind into a back garden cluttered with games.
The group gathered in the garden and Amane, last through, bolted the gate behind her. It felt relatively safe in the garden, surrounded as it was by a tall fence. Still, thought Evan, if a hundred zombies came calling, it would be torn down in a minute. They all watched, catching their breath, as Miguel approached the back door and knocked.
“My keys are at work, but don’t worry, my wife, Alma, she’ll be at home. She looks after my mother so she’s always home.”
Karyn put Lucy down and she and George found a football to kick around. Evan took a step forward. “So your mother lives here too?”
“Of course, she’s not well. She’s too old to live on her own now.” He knocked again and peered through the dirty glass in the door. It was dark inside and no one came to answer.
“Hmm.” Miguel frowned and tapped on the door again. “Maybe she’s in the bathroom.”
Evan turned to Joe. “I’m not sure about this. It’s not safe to stay out here. We need to get inside or find a car or...”
He was cut off by the sound of breaking glass. Karyn had gone down the side of the house, and using one of the golf clubs, smashed open a window.
“Come on kids,” she called, “in here.” She brushed away the glass as George and Lucy ran up to her. She helped them through the open window into a small bedroom.
Evan and Joe exchanged looks as Miguel ran up to Karyn. “Hey lady, you gonna pay for that?” Miguel brandished his club, angry. Karyn looked at him, unable to bring herself to think that this poor man was worth speaking to, and with a dismissive cursory glance, she turned away and climbed through the window. Shaking his head, Evan walked down the side of the house toward them. Amane and Joe hung back in the overgrown garden. They heard Karyn call out from inside the house.
“George? Lucy? Don’t run off, come back here.”
Evan followed Miguel through the window and was struck by how dark it was. The air was stuffy. It tasted foul and warm. Evan was thirsty and vowed to find the kitchen first. Miguel had wandered off to look for his wife. The room they were in was quite bare, but comfy. Evan tried the switch on the wall and clicked it a few times, but the light did not come on.
“Miguel? You all right?” The words hung in the air without response. He knew something was going wrong. Goosebumps spread down Evan’s arms as he heard a crash and a scream. A short guttural cry followed by a high-pitched shriek from opposite ends of the house. He raced out of the bedroom. Miguel stood to his left in the kitchen doorway, unmoving. Evan heard Miguel say, “Alma?” but the crashing noises were away to his right, and growing louder. Evan ran down the dingy corridor and pushed open the door at the end.
Karyn was grappling with an old woman, who was dressed in a nightgown, stained almost black with blood. George was silent, kneeling over his sister. Lucy was dead. She was splayed out, arms outspread, one hand still holding her rag-doll, whilst blood poured from her throat and soaked into the floral carpet beneath her. Her lifeless eyes were staring accusingly at Evan.
“Miguel!” called Evan, as he rushed to Karyn’s aid. At the sound of his voice, the old lady ferociously pushed Karyn away and sprung toward Evan. Her snarling mouth was smeared with fresh blood from Lucy’s throat. Evan had no time to use his club. He dropped it and charged, the two clashing like rutting stags. Evan outweighed his opponent though and the force of their collision sent the old woman flying back, tripping over a small coffee table. Evan picked the table up and crashed it down over the zombie’s head.
“Karyn, help, hand me the club!” He turned around, only to see Karyn chasing George out of the room, club in hand, slamming the door behind her. Miguel’s dead mother was getting to her feet. Evan spied a drinks cabinet and grabbed the first bottle at hand. He flung it at the approaching zombie and it shattered, spillin
g its sweet contents all over her. He did it again and whisky spilled down the nightgown. The glass shattered over the zombie’s head, its own blood pouring down its face and mingling with Lucy’s. The old woman was close now and sprang off her feet to attack.
Joe and Amane had heard the commotion and come in. Out in the corridor, Karyn stood guarding the lounge door, brandishing her club.
“Mrs Craven, let me in there right now!” shouted Joe.
“No! We need to get out of here. Lucy’s fucking dead and you’re our driver, Joe, I can’t afford to lose you! We need to get out of here.” Her eyes were wild. Her hair was matted with bright red blood and she was shaking. Joe wasn’t sure if she was more interested in protecting George or herself. They heard a moaning sound behind them and whirled round.
Miguel stood in the kitchen doorway facing them. His wife had him in a bear hug, teeth sunk deep into his neck. Miguel was gripping the doorframe, eyes shut, unable to move, as his wife’s teeth sliced through his jugular, spraying his blood over the dusty walls. He crumpled, weak, and his wife shoved her fist through his open neck. She repeatedly pulverised his dying body, beating it down to the floor. In a frenzied blood lust, she tore at his clothes, his skin, ripping off anything and everything: fingers, toes, ears. Like a rabid dog, she savaged her husband’s face, sharp incisor’s tearing out his eyes, fingernails slashing and hacking without mercy. Amane threw up and Miguel’s wife turned around. Dead, black eyes fixed on Joe and Amane.
