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

by Matt Shaw

  As I weaved my way effortlessly through another small cluster of R.D.Fs I couldn’t help but think - I welcome this new world with both arms outstretched. I embrace it. I could be a fucking King. People like me - the people labelled as damaged, dangerous, demented and sick - we’re the ones who will survive. We’re the ones who will go all the way. We’re the ones who will be your leaders. You may as well prepare yourself to already bow down to me. Hail to the king.

  Dr. Platts

  I pushed my way through the nervous group and reached the window. I knew this was the only way out of the room - if the door wasn’t usable which, going by the relentless banging, it isn’t - but I didn’t ever recall it being so small. Certainly not a standard sized window. Maybe big enough for Amy, the smallest of the group, to fit through but the rest of us would struggle. And then, of course, there are a couple of us who simply would not even begin to fit through. With my head through the window I knew I could squeeze myself out but - looking around - there was nothing but a straight drop to the concrete below. There were no nearby ledges to get a hold of, there was nothing. I muttered a swear word under my breath. Even if the drop didn’t kill us - and there was a good chance it wouldn’t - there was no way we would get away without breaking at least one bone (most likely an ankle) and given what’s happening out there - that would surely end up leading to our deaths anyway when we find ourselves unable to get away from oncoming danger. I muttered another swear word.

  Tina had pushed her way through to me and was screaming in my ear for what we were to do next. “Well now what? You lead us up here,” she said, “so what’s the plan? Or did you just lead us to a room with no way out?”

  I turned back to the room. Two of the male members of the group had their hands pressed against the door in an effort to stop the force being applied to the other side breaking it down. Other members of the group had gathered, facing the door, in the further possible corner of the room and Amy and Tina were staring at me - wide-eyed and desperate for some kind of answer from me. I didn’t have one though. I had nothing for them. Tina sensed my lack of answers being a sign that I didn’t have any to give.

  “You’ve killed us,” she hissed. Her voice full of the venom that I’d previously heard in the waiting area of the building - when she was egging John on with each punch he put upon Darron. “She’s killed us!” she alerted the group, “There is no way out of here. We’re all as good as dead.” I felt the eyes of the group rest upon me. No. This wasn’t my fault. If people had listened to me we’d all still be downstairs. We’d be preparing to make our run to wherever we were going to end up going for. We’d all be safe and - more to the point - we’d all be alive. None of us would have witnessed the vicious attack. None of us would have blood on our hands. Tina made a sudden lunge towards me but I successfully managed to move out of the way. Purely on reaction I hit her, open-palmed, across the face. If she wanted confrontation, knowing what was waiting for us on the other side of the door growing more and more impatient, I’d gladly oblige her. She regained her composure and turned back to me with a look of shock upon her face, along with a red mark from the slap. Hardly surprising considering my hand is stinging painfully.

  “You did this, you crazy bitch! If you hadn’t gone to the group and run your mouth off about stuff which was, quite frankly, none of your business and certainly not decided upon then Darron and John would both still be alive. We all stood there and watched what John did without doing anything to stop him so, in a way, we all have blood on our hands but you - you have the most. You caused the argument and you nodded to John to do what he did. You did. Not us. So if you want to stand here and play the blame game, I suggest you reassess who you try and pin the blame on. And so what if Darron, and I for that matter, had decided to go it alone. We don’t owe you anything. We don’t owe any of you anything…” I stopped. The room was looking at me. I didn’t dare look around at people. I didn’t dare see their reaction to my outburst. I concentrated my glare upon Tina whose eyes were filling with tears - wondering where she’d take the outburst.

  “You couldn’t just leave us!” she blurted out. “What were we going to do? Where were we going to go?” All of this happened because she was scared of being left alone? Really? All of this happened because her worried mind had already taken the conversation she had heard as truth. Jesus H. Christ. The stupid little woman. “I have to get back to my dad!” she said. She started to cry. I didn’t care though. I didn’t feel sympathy for her. Maybe I’d spent too long listening to various sob stories? Maybe I had only just given up caring. I’m not sure. “He’ll be scared.”

  “Do you really think,” I put the boot in, “that if your father is still alive…Do you really think any of the rest of us would want to swing by your house to go and fetch him?” I shook my head. “We wouldn’t. We’d want to go to the safest place we could think of and we’d want to do so without extra baggage.” I knew my words were harsh but I wasn’t about to apologise. She’d annoyed me more than anyone else I’d ever met. Dear Tina, the meek little woman. “Now if you do not have anything sensible to suggest to the group, anything which may help us out of this situation, I’d kindly ask you to get off my back and shut the fuck up.” I turned away from her and looked at the rest of the group. They all looked scared. I can’t blame them. It hadn’t been more than two days and already people were turning on each other and that was before we faced the rest of the world. Hardly the best of starts.

  “We could throw the boxes out of the window,” Amy suggested. I turned to her to hear her out but - I have to admit - I was already at a loss as to where she was going with this. “If we just drop them,” she continued, “they’d gradually build up…” my mind caught up with where she was headed, “…and - if we jump - it would offer some support. Something a little softer to land on.”

  The room was filled with years and years worth of filing - all stashed in cardboard boxes designed for such a purpose. Each one with the date and year scrawled across it in thick black marker. Government regulations insisted they were kept on premises for x amount of years before being securely disposed of. Whilst Amy’s suggestion certainly wasn't foolproof or even as safe as I’d have liked it to be - it was the best option we currently had. Other than opening the door and wandering into the path of the two things trying to come through the other side - it was the only option.

  “It might work,” a man piped up. I looked across to where the voice came from and my heart sank. Her plan might work for some of us but not everyone. Some would have to stay behind. This man was one of them. His facial expression clearly suggested he knew he’d be left behind but he still made his way over to the closest of the boxes. With some effort he picked it up and dropped it through the window. As the box fell to the floor the lid flew off and confidential notes, and other paperwork, flew through the air. So much for doctor / patient confidentiality. “And you can come back, with help, for those who can’t fit through the window,” he said. A hint of ‘hope’ in his tone.

  “Of course.” I made no promises. We both knew - whoever made it through the window and down onto the floor safely - no one would be going back for anyone. It was very much a dog eat dog world out there now.

  One by one a chain started to form between the people who weren’t tied up propping the door up. Each member passing the boxes from person to person until it reached the man who was dropping them from the window to the floor below.

  “How many should we do?” Amy asked.

  “All of them,” I suggested. For our best chance of making this work, we needed the maximum amount of cushioning below us and I was well aware that the more people dropped down to them - the more they’d start to flatten.

  “You guys need to go faster,” one of the door props called over, “it’s starting to splinter over here!”

  Michael and Nicola

  Nicola was on the bed - with its pink duvet set - toying with one of the abandoned dolls. She wasn’t really playing with it as suc
h, just fiddling with it as there was little else to do. I’d gone through the upstairs of the house, closing the curtains, and I’d snuck back into the kitchen to raid the near-empty shelves for whatever food was left behind; not that the previous occupants had left much for us. At least - not much food that didn’t require any form of cooking.

  “What’s that you’ve found there?” I asked from the doorway where I was watching Nicola. I only asked because I was trying to act normal. I think Nicola knew that too but she played along.

  “Just a doll. I found it on the floor.”

  “Does the doll have a name?”

  “Victoria.”

  Named after her mother. I couldn’t help but wonder whether she was still thinking about seeing her mum out there in the garden. It was hard to say goodbye the first time, I can’t imagine what must have gone through her mind when she saw her out there on the middle of the lawn.

  “Nice name,” I said, skirting around the fact it was her mother’s name. I wasn’t ready for any possible conversations about why her mum - my wife - had come back and, more to the point, why we had just left her there. There was a good chance Nicola knew the reasons, she wasn’t stupid after all, but I still didn’t want to open the floor up to discussion. Not yet. Everything is too raw.

  “Listen you know we can’t stay here, don’t you?” I tentatively approached the subject I was dreading discussing (for more than one reason). “We need to get to Nanny and Granddad’s house.”

  “I know.”

  “And to do that we need a new car.” I sat down on the edge of the bed. I didn’t want to leave her alone but I didn’t have a choice. If I go out there alone, I have more chance to get what I need. I can’t watch my daughter, my own surroundings and keep an eye out for a possible vehicle too. I knew there weren’t masses of the infected out there but there was enough to run into trouble if I made a wrong turn or put myself in a corner. I needed to be alert and concentrate on what I was doing. “I’m going to need you to be brave,” I continued, “and stay here whilst I pop out and get us a new car.”

  Nicola immediately looked up, panic on her face, “I don’t want to stay here by myself.”

  “You have to. I can’t take you with me, it’s dangerous out there. You’ll be safer here,” my mind started playing the bastard game of ‘what if’. What if I ran into trouble? What if I got bitten? What if I couldn’t make it back for whatever reason? She’d be alone, trapped. I tried to shake the poisoned thoughts from my mind. I didn’t need those things floating around in there. Not now. I can’t afford to be distracted. And I can’t afford to make the decision to take her with me. “And I won’t be long,” I told her. A silly thing to say. It was impossible to say how long it would take. It was even impossible to say whether I’d find what I was looking for - what I desperately needed to get my daughter to the safety she deserved. “You just need to hang tight here. Just stay in this room,” I told her. “You have food, you have some toys you can play with and - before you know it - I’ll be back to get you.”

  “You will come back?”

  “Oh my darling, of course. Just let them try and stop me.” I smiled at her. She smiled back but I could see she was nervous about the situation.

  “Well when do you have to leave?” she asked.

  “The sooner I go, the sooner I am back.”

  “And then we’ll go to Nanny’s?” she asked. I smiled at her. She has such an innocence about her and it breaks my heart to know that - minute by minute - this situation is robbing her of it. I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d ever manage to get it back to her. I leaned down to where she was sitting and kissed the top of her head.

  “Can daddy have a hug before he goes?” I asked. She didn’t need asking twice. She jumped up and threw her arms around me as though scared it would be the last time she ever saw me. I held her tight. Didn’t want to let her go. Didn't want to leave her. I felt myself well up. Need to hold it together. Need to be strong for the both of us. I heard that she wasn’t doing so well at keeping calm. She quietly wept as I held her. I don’t need to leave right this minute. A couple more minutes won’t hurt. A couple more minutes to just enjoy the peace and love between us. “Love you,” I reminded her. She whispered back to me that she loved me too. I gave her another tight squeeze before I released her. “Okay, remember what I said, stay upstairs and away from the window and I’ll be back as quickly as I can. Okay?” she nodded. I thought for a moment and then tried to hand her the knife I’d earlier taken from the kitchen when I was first looking around the house. “And if anyone comes in - any of those people out there - I want you to run as fast as you can. But if you’re stuck in here - stick this in them.” She looked at me with a confused expression and I couldn’t say I blamed her. It’s not the usual thing a father tells his daughter to do. She didn’t take the knife so I put it on the bed. She knew it was there and - hopefully - she wouldn’t need it anyway. I gave her another kiss on the cheek before I stood up. It’s now or never.

  I looked out of the bedroom window, peering from behind the curtain, down into the garden below. The machete is still staring at me, beckoning me to go and get it but there are too many of the infected down there to make it a wise move. One trip and I’d be brown bread. I left the room, giving Nicola a little wave as I did so, before heading through to the front bedroom. Same thing - a quick look out of the window from behind the curtains. The garage seems to be holding the attention of most of the infected, down there, but I know it won’t be the same story if one of them catches sight of me leaving the house. When one sees something, it’s as though they all see it. Before you know it - you have a dozen, or so, on your back. I’m just thankful they’re not fast.

  I noticed a car parked in the drive of the house opposite me. No guarantees there are any keys in the house but I’m guessing it’s a good place to start. I noticed the front door was wide open. That wasn’t a good sign as it increased the chances of some of those things being in there - whether they be the owner of the house or they just meandered in from the street. Well, no choice, really. I’m fully aware of the fact I’m going to have to get my hands dirty at some point.

  There were a couple of infected lurching on the street between the two houses and one in the drive of the opposite house. Apart from that, from what I could see at this angle, it looked relatively clear. I closed my eyes. Thoughts of my daughter flashed through my mind. Her pretty smile. Watching her playing in the garden last summer happily singing to herself as I prepared a barbecue for the family. I’m doing this for her. I’m doing this for her. I released the corner of the curtain and let it flap back before leaving the room. I hurried down the stairs and through to the kitchen. A quick search of the sides and I grabbed another knife to replace the one I’d left Nicola. Funny - I rarely let her use the scissors when she was doing her arts and crafts and there I am leaving her with a sodding great knife. Desperate times. Another knife in hand, I turned from the room and headed towards the front door. A similar set up to the one I had left behind, in my own home, in that it had narrow windows either side of the door so I could see out. The coast was clear. Okay. No messing around. I just need to open the door and run as fast as I can. Get to the other side of the road and into the house. Shut the door as quickly (and quietly) as possible and then go from room to room cleaning the place out. Then - and only then - can I set about finding any possible keys for the car. Well - on the plus side - it sounds as though it’s simple enough. I took a few deep breaths and grabbed a hold of the Yale door lock. This is it.

  I knew she couldn’t hear me, from where she was hiding, but I said it anyway, “I love you, Nic…”

  I flipped the lock and quietly opened the door to the harsh world beyond.

  Dr. Platts

  Most of the boxes were on the hard floor outside of the building now. Some had retained their contents and others had spilled them across the road where the wind had helped to carry them further. Amy was the obvious choice to send through the wi
ndow first; she was the lightest after all. If she didn’t make it down safely then none of us would (not that I told her that). I grabbed her by the shoulders and made sure she looked me in the eyes, “You need to run as soon as you land.”

  Amy looked towards the window, “What if I break something in the fall?”

  I pulled her back to me, “You won’t.”

  “You’re sure?” Of course I wasn’t sure but she didn’t need to know that. She just needed to get down there and run in whatever direction she fancied. “What do I do when I am down?” she asked.

  “You just run.”

  “I’ll wait for you?” she asked. “I’ll wait for all of you,” she looked around the group. All of them were looking as concerned as I felt. I waited for her to look back to me again. “I’ll wait,” she repeated.

  “No. No, you won’t. You wait for nothing. As soon as you can, you start running - do you hear me?” The noise of the boxes being flung from the window had already alerted some of the infected to the fact we were in the building and we could see them making their way up the street - from wherever they came from - towards where we were hiding. We needed to hit the floor running.

  “Where do I go?” I could see the panic in Amy’s face at the prospect of being alone but if she waited down there, for the rest of us to join her, she’d be swarmed by the infected. Chances are she’d even be one of them by the time the rest of us made it down. With regards to her question though, I’d already thought of an answer. It just came to me, out of the blue, whilst we were lining the streets with confidential reports and broken boxes. We needed to make our way to the supermarket. It didn’t matter which one. But we could make it secure and we could live there for as long as it took the promised help to find us. “Where do I go?” she asked again.