Rotting Dead F*cks: An Extreme Novel of Horror, Sex, Gore and the Undead

by Matt Shaw

  Dr. Platts

  I walked back through to the staffroom where Darron had gone to listen to the news. I had grown concerned after the lights switched off in the main reception area. Trying the switches in the other rooms, on the way through to the staffroom, revealed it to be more than a blown bulb. All of the power was out. Darron jumped when I entered the room. It probably didn’t help that this room had no windows at all so was pretty dark already - despite it only being midday.

  “Scared the hell out of me,” he said. He didn’t get up from the chair he was sitting on.

  “Sorry.” I nodded towards the television, “Did they say anything else?”

  “No. They just keep playing the same thing over and over again on loop - as they were doing before.” He gestured towards the waiting room with a tilt of his head, “How are the people doing?”

  “They’re scared,” I told him. There was no sense trying to sugarcoat it. No one knew what was happening and all of them felt afraid. They were scared of what was going to happen to them. They were scared of what was happening to their loved ones. They were just scared.

  “How about you?” Darron asked. A genuine look of concern on his face. I wasn’t sure whether he was expecting me to lie. Perhaps - he thought - if I said I was okay, it would give him some hope too? “How are you doing?” he pressed.

  “I’m a little apprehensive,” I didn’t lie. “We have no food, no electricity and no idea what is going on out there. We’re being told we need to stay here yet we do not have the provisions to do so. This help that they say is coming - how long do we give them before we have to move on?” I could tell by Darron’s expression that my words brought him no comfort whatsoever. If anything he looked more worried than before. He had opened a floodgate though and I couldn’t stop, “And if we do leave - where are we supposed to all assemble? They’re telling us the ports and airports are closed. Clearly major cities will be rife with infection and danger. That doesn’t really leave us a lot of options. Never mind the fact that any kind of travel will be dangerous.” I stopped a couple of seconds to catch my breath. I expected Darron to speak but he said nothing. We both knew there was nothing he could say. All the points I raised were valid and of genuine concern. Realising he wasn’t going to fill in the silence, I continued, “If we stay here tonight - will that make it safer to venture out in the morning or increase the chances of running into the infected?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “The longer we leave it, the more chance there is of the infection spreading to more people - you know it and I know it.”

  Another silence fell between the two of us. Darron was the first to break it, “So what do you suggest?” he asked. “What should we do?”

  “It’s not up to me. People should be able to make up their own minds but I think we should leave. Sooner rather than later - whilst there is still some daylight.”

  “You don’t think it would be safer to travel at night?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know anything. You asked me what I thought and I’m telling you,” I could feel myself getting angry. Not because of Darron questioning me but because - for once - I felt as though I had no control whatsoever. In my career I had always tried my best to help people (not always succeeding admittedly) but I had never felt out of control. This was new territory to me and I didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  Darron went along with my line of thinking, “I suppose there is more chance of stumbling into trouble in the dark,” he reasoned. Not entirely unreasonable to think that. “At least in the daylight we can see them coming and do something about it.” He hesitated, “We just need some idea of where we can go.”

  “Maybe we could put it to a vote?” I didn’t feel comfortable making the decision for everyone else. No one had the right to make such choices. I noticed Darron was looking at me as though he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how to bring it up. “What is it?” I asked him outright.

  “What’s what?” he looked away from me. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t feel the need to remind him that I was trained to read the body language of people - some of whom being desperate to try and hide what they were thinking from me for fear of the repercussions. Darron breathed out heavily and I knew - there and then - I wasn’t going to be impressed with what was going to come from his mouth. “I just think that maybe…” he hesitated, “….look we don’t know what is waiting for us out there. Do we really want to go out with a large group?” For once I found myself lost for words. I just looked at him blankly. Darron was staring at me, clearly waiting for an answer. An answer I didn’t have. Was he really suggesting we just abandoned the people here? He was a care-worker, just as I was and yet here he was ready to drop his principles at the first sign of trouble. Surely, we of all people, had a duty of care for the people with us? “You know we have a better chance of survival - out there - if it were just the two of us.”

  “Have you heard of the saying safety in numbers?” I asked him.

  He didn’t answer immediately. He looked as though he was weighing up his potential answers. Probably contemplating the one which painted him in the more positive of lights.

  “If we go out there,” he said after what must have been a couple of minutes, “with a group of scared individuals - some of whom, let us not forget, aren’t of the most stable mind…We will be drawing attention to ourselves. If we go out, just the two of us, then we have a good chance of getting somewhere where we can safely wait this out…Whatever it is.”

  “Well you seem to have some answers so where do you think we should go?” I asked. I wasn’t agreeing to anything he was suggesting, I just wanted to see what else he was thinking. Maybe at least one of his ideas may have been feasible. He didn’t say anything. Just shrugged. “Look - we’ll stay here tonight. We shouldn’t leave the building without any idea of where to go. We’ll just be running around out there like headless chickens - whether that’s in a group or not.” He didn’t disagree with me about this at least. “And I suggest you keep your thoughts to yourself,” I continued, “we don’t need them panicking that we’re thinking about leaving them behind.”

  “But you agree with me it’s the best thing to do?” Darron carried on trying to push me. I didn’t think it was the best thing to do. I think we should all leave together. I think we should stick together. We could (and can) all look out for each other. And I honestly believe that. “Well?”

  “We just need to lay low for the night and sleep on it. See how we feel in the morning. The most important thing - for now - is to try and think of where we can go. We need to think of the most secure place where we can wait for the help they’re talking about.”

  “And what if there is no help?”

  I sat in one of the armchairs next to where Darron was still perched. The thought had already crossed my mind that there wouldn’t be any form of help - but I hadn’t yet admitted to myself the scale of the possibility. From what I had seen on the news - earlier - this thing had taken hold of the city fast. Even if there was a way to get survivors out, I’m almost positive it won’t be something they’ll be able to implement with any haste. Darron didn’t need to know what I was thinking. With the way his mind was working, he was already struggling to hold it together and think rationally. “Help has to come. They’re probably already on their way round the city. I’m sure it’s just a matter of time,” I knew I was rambling. I shut up before I said anything stupid.

  “If we need to spend the night considering what are the best and possible outcomes for this - we need to consider the fact that no one is coming for us. We need to think about going it alone.”

  “You’re going out there alone?”

  Both Darron and I turned to the doorway. Tina was standing there. She might not have heard all of the conversation but she certainly caught enough of it.

  Day Two of the Outbreak

  The Security Office

  The power had been out for a few hours now with no signs of restarting. The
security office had a back-up generator, which allowed for a little light during the otherwise dark night but this didn’t impact the monitors which had been entertaining (and horrifying) the security officer with their captured moments. She shifted forward in her seat and hit the closest monitor she could reach as though it would magically bring it back to life. Needless to say it didn’t and the screen remained as dead as half of the city’s population.

  Had the monitors been on the security officer wouldn’t have enjoyed her evening’s viewing. She was hoping that, by watching them religiously, she could see help start to sweep through the city (no doubt in the form of the military) or evidence that humanity was winning the battle against whatever was trying to extinguish it but that’s not what the monitors would have shown. This first night of the mysterious outbreak reaching through the city (and, unbeknownst to many, further afield) showed no signs of hope. If anything it showed something far worse; humanity losing the fight and more innocent people falling foul of the infection as it continued to spread beyond any possible control.

  One on one it wasn’t hard to fight off an Infected person so long as you avoided getting bitten and - had the cameras been filming - the security officer would have seen people fighting them off on numerous occasions but, as the numbers of the dead increased, she’d have also witnessed the tables beginning to turn. As soon as there were more than one of the infected to contend with - things became a lot harder, if not impossible to escape without getting (at least) bitten.

  Throughout the streets during the night, people were getting bitten as they made their way for provisions or someplace which they thought to be a ‘sanctuary’ from the madness. Some of the people ‘turned’ and some of them went on to get torn, literally, from limb to limb - all depending on how many of the Infected were attacking them. One ‘bites’, more than one ‘shreds’.

  The picture on screen wouldn’t have been much better from the camera pointing to where the looter was hiding either. That street - the one with the shops - seemed to be attracting a vast amount of infected. All of them seemingly congregating outside of a single newsagent. All of them clawing at the glass, desperate for what was hiding within.

  Ted

  As the sun slowly rose into the sky robbing us of the peaceful darkness (admittedly littered with dangers), a thought struck me. A new name for these assholes. Sure I had heard what the news people had called them before the power went out but that seemed pretty dull. And clearly - going by my new friend’s reaction - Muslim Fucks wasn’t acceptable or accurate.

  “I’ve thought of a new name for these things.” I was looking out of the living room window of Harold’s small flat above his shop. Harold being the man who had called me into the building before I got my ass chomped by the Muslim fucks outside. The Muslim Fucks themselves were crowding around outside the shop window we had earlier barricaded. I had been watching them all night. What had started as a small group gradually increased over the hours until there were many more and just as I thought that was it more would lurch their way up the street; all groaning and stinking. Not all of them were Muslim though. Now the group was mixed. Still all of them stunk. “Rotting Dead Fucks!” I continued my original (insightful) train of thought. Harold didn’t answer me so I turned away from the window to look at him; make sure I had his full undivided attention. He was just staring at me. Guess he wanted me to explain - something I’m only too happy to do considering we have fuck all else in common to speak of. “You see…I got it because they’re rotten, right, they’re dead and they are most definitely a bunch of fucks.” I paused. I won’t lie. I kind of expected a ‘well done’ or something similar. I thought it was insightful. Not just that, actually, I thought it was fucking genius. “What? Nothing for that?”

  “You need to come away from the window.” He had been telling me that all night. Like a broken record going round and round and round. After the first half hour of ‘you need to come away from the window’ I had got a headache. How I hadn’t pummeled his head in with my trusty baseball bat I’ll never know. “We should have left when we had the chance,” he continued, “how many out there now?” I shrugged. “Roughly?” he pressed me for an answer. I could stand here and count them if I wanted to but what was the point? Exact numbers - at this stage - meant nothing to us.

  “Lots of rotting dead fucks,” was an easier answer and one which needed no further explanation. “Don’t you have a back door we could use?”

  “Yes but there’s no way of seeing out of it without it being open. If there are lots of….them….”

  “Rotting Dead Fucks…”

  “Quite. If there are lots of them out back then we won’t be able to keep them out once the door is open.” He paused a moment. “The news was saying we should stay inside. Maybe we should. We have food downstairs.”

  I looked out of the front window again, “As well as a fuck load of rotting dead fucks,” I reminded him. He was right about the food situation we had here and - so far - they weren’t getting in but would the window last? The more that kept showing up, pressing on the window, the more chance they’d come through it. I looked at my new friend and felt a pang of guilt - a new feeling for me. Had he not come out and helped me then he’d probably still be locked away in here - but without a shit load of R.D.Fs banging on his storefront. “I’m sorry,” I said to him. Another first for me. Apologising to someone. It felt weird.

  “For what?” he asked. He looked at me. He looked tired. Hardly surprising considering he hadn’t slept all night but then neither had I. Mind was too busy thinking of all the shit happening outside.

  “If you hadn’t opened the door for me, I’d probably be pretty dead by now.” Watching the way these things seem to come together, out there, it’s a fair assumption. It’s easy to take one down but a group of them? Probably not as simple. “And you probably wouldn’t have been surrounded by the cunts.” I paused a moment to reflect, “Probably both be in a better place.” I surprised myself again as I realised what I was doing; bonding with another person. I couldn’t remember the last time I had done that.

  “Nothing to say they wouldn’t have found me by now. Besides what kind of person would I be if I left you to become one of them?” He got up from his settee and stretched his back. “I’m going to get something to eat from downstairs. If you want - you’re more than welcome to take what you fancy but try and stay out of sight of the window. Probably wouldn’t be a wise thing to try and antagonise the infected.” I didn’t correct him when he called them the infected although I wanted to. It was his place and I was a guest so, I guess, he gets to call them whatever he wants to. Just shows a lack of imagination on his part. He disappeared out of the flat and down the stairs towards the shop. I hesitated for a moment as another - more troubling - thought popped into my mind; if he shows lack of imagination with how he speaks of the R.D.Fs then surely that means he doesn’t have the imagination to come up with a plan to help get us out of trouble. A thought followed by an imaginary scenario popping into my mind; a scenario which saw us in trouble and Harold doing nothing to help me. I tried to shake it from my mind but I couldn’t. Was I really wasting my time shacking up with someone who had the potential to get me killed because they couldn’t think their way out of the proverbial box? Maybe I’d just be better off getting out of here and going it alone. Haven’t had many friends before this point, I don’t see why that should change just because the world has gone to shit.

  I walked over to the doorway and stood there, at the top of the stairs, listening for Harold. I could hear him downstairs as he tried to sneak his way around the shop without being spotted by the R.D.Fs. Credit where it is due, he’s being pretty quiet. My mind was still split in two; I could go downstairs and help him grab whatever we fancied to eat or…The back door of the shop was at the bottom of the stairs - easy to just leave. I quietly crept down the stairs until I was at the bottom where I froze. As quiet as I was trying to be, there was no stopping the bastard steps from cre
aking under my feet and I wasn’t sure whether he’d heard me. I listened. All I can hear is him scavenging and the sounds of the R.D.Fs at the window. I peered around to see if I could see him and I could. Look at him, in there, sliding around the tiled floor of his shop on his hands and knees - a carrier bag hooked around his wrist filled with what looked to be sausage rolls and other pastry items taken from the fridges. Guess he has to eat them now before they spoil. He hadn’t spotted me. I turned back to the back door and placed my ear against it. It’s made from heavy metal - no doubt to stop people from trying to break in. Hard to hear anything on the other side. But maybe that’s because there is nothing to hear? I put my hand on the handle and my other hand on the key sticking from the lock. The lock ‘clicked’ when I gave the key a slow twist. Was kind of hoping that it would have been quieter by going slower. No such luck. I stood there, a moment, still unsure of what the best course of action would be.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Harold’s voice from behind me. Close. He must have been in the doorway to the shop, just a few steps behind me. Panic clearly in his voice. Can’t say I blame him - I’m not feeling too great about this situation myself.

  “I can’t stay here,” I said, “it’s a bad move.”

  “A bad move? It’s our only move. We don’t know what is on the other side of that door.”

  “But we know what’s on the other side of the other door and they don’t look as though they’re giving up anytime soon. It’s only a matter of time before they come in and you want us to sit upstairs and wait? You ever watch horror films? I do. I watch a lot. My psychiatrist believes I should stop. She says they do nothing but fuel my dark thoughts but that’s bullshit. I just like ‘em….”