"He's a boring cunt." Marvin glanced around the Blanchland surroundings and closed his eyes once a stray breeze licked his features. That felt good.
Lloyd laughed and shook his head at his brother. "That's terrible. From what I've been told, the poor guy is dying."
Marvin shrugged his shoulders. "He's still a boring cunt."
Both men went through the main door of the house and into the living room. Jory was sitting in the armchair. He was thin, grey, and looked like he was dying.
"More company." Jory was sitting down and smiled, but never stood to greet Lloyd.
"Jory, this is my brother." Marvin pointed at Lloyd and sat down.
"Good to meet you, matey." Jory smiled.
This had been the first time that Marvin had heard Jory say matey and it triggered something off in his head.
Matey?
Where did he hear that before?
Both siblings sat on the couch, opposite from where Jory was sitting. Lloyd was talking to Jory, about what had just happened, but Marvin was now drifting off. His mind wouldn't let go. He thought of Jory's real name. George
George? Matey?
Marvin turned to stare at Jory. His lips were moving, but he wasn't listening. Marvin scrunched his forehead in thought, creating lines.
George? Matey?
"What about you?" Lloyd could see that Marvin was miles away and gave him a nudge, making him jump.
Marvin looked at his brother, then Jory. "What?"
"We were asking about our past lives," Lloyd began to explain to his brother, "you know, before all of this kicked off."
Marvin sighed, "Nothing to say really."
"Jesus, you're as bad as Jory here." Lloyd began to laugh. "You pair have lived real dull lives then, eh? Is that what you're both saying?"
"Looks that way." Jory blushed and shifted in his seat with discomfort. "I can't believe you're brothers, yet you hardly know one another."
Marvin was lost again.
George? Matey?
Jory then began to scratch at his left arm. Lloyd noticed a scar that was five inches long, starting from Jory's elbow.
"That looks like a bad one." Lloyd pointed out that he had seen the scar.
Marvin snapped out of his gaze and also clocked it.
"Oh, it's nothing." Jory quickly put his arm down, hiding the mark. He tried to joke, "You want to see the state of the other guy. Not a mark on him."
"Let's have another look at that," said Marvin.
"Look at what?" Jory was trying to play dumb.
"You know what."
Jory shifted in his seat uncomfortably and said, "Let's talk about something else, shall we?"
"Okay," Lloyd began, picking up that Jory wasn't comfortable about talking about the origin of the scar. He thought it was strange, considering the guy was more than happy to tell Gordon and Joan about his illness. Lloyd thought for a minute, then asked Jory. "Have you heard from your family recently?"
Marvin drifted away from their conversation once more.
George? Matey?
He then thought about the scar. Five inches from the elbow.
Eventually, Lloyd had excused himself and told Jory that he was about to leave. He also jokingly thanked him for looking after his big brother. Jory never had a choice in the matter. Marvin was practically a squatter and Jory didn't understand why the man didn't pick another house to live in.
"Are you sure you have to go?" Jory asked.
"Yeah. It's getting late. Not that that matters any more, but my son will be worried about me. I've been here for more than an half an hour."
"Okay."
"Besides," Lloyd laughed and pointed at his brother who was still sitting on the couch, gazing into nothingness. "He'll keep you company, even though he hasn't spoken in ten minutes."
Jory saw Lloyd out and watched him as he made his way back to the hotel. Jory then shut the front door and turned around to see Marvin trudging upstairs.
"Where're you off?" asked Jory.
"Bed," was Marvin's short answer.
"A bit early, isn't it? It's only about seven."
Jory had realised that he hadn't told Marvin which room he was staying in, but decided to let him choose for himself. What was the harm?
Once Marvin had reached the landing, he went into the back room, the room that looked out onto the back garden, and lay on the bed with his clothes and boots still on.
He put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. Something was bugging him about Jory. He didn't know what it was, but something wasn't right.
He then thought about the scar.
George? Matey?
Chapter Twenty Five
Kelly Bronson took a sip of her soda water that she had taken from behind the bar. She thought about her parents and her job. Ironically, the prison was probably the safest place to be, temporarily. Even if a Runner or a group of Runners managed to get into the gatehouse, where officers checked in on a morning and received their radio and keys, the infected still had to go through a series of doors even to get to the two house blocks.
The only problem with being in the prison in the long-term, was the diminishing food from the canteen. Kelly wondered what state the place was in now that power had been lost in some areas of the country. The prison had generators, but how long would they last? The wings would be plunged into darkness and no doubt violence would increase ten-fold.
She smiled to herself as she took another sip of soda water. Maybe she had had a lucky escape. Maybe being at her work would have been a nightmare.
"Hi, Kelly."
She looked to her left where the young voice came from. She acknowledged Junior and watched as she saw him make himself comfortable on the next bar stool.
She asked him if he was okay.
He nodded, but unconvincingly. "Tried to have a nap, but it wasn't happening."
Kelly could see that the youngster was emotional and that the incident before had shaken him up.
"You'll get used to it," she said.
"I don't want to get used to it," he sniffed. "I want..."
"Things to be the way it used to be?"
Junior gulped, managing to remove the lump that had formed in his throat, and nodded. "I used to hate living in the middle of nowhere, having to travel six miles just to get to school. Being away from my friends."
"And now?" She took another sip of her soda water, her head still thumping.
"I know we've had to move a few times, but being in the Pennines has saved us. If we were living in a city or a large town..."
"Who knows what the damage is? There could be millions of those things now."
"You never saw any news, did you?"
Kelly shook her head, and noticed that Junior had a sneaky peek at her chest.
Junior continued, "According to some reports, because these things are human, they may die within a week or so from starvation, dehydration."
"They could be wrong." Kelly didn't want to put a dampener on Junior; she was trying to be realistic.
"If they're still human, then the press could be onto something, they could be right. When they bite you, they only bite you for a short time because the infection spreads so rapidly. I guess when you're bitten, you're tainted meat after a minute or so."
"What about other foods?" Kelly wasn't convinced of the information that Junior was telling her. "If they're still human, then they should be able to eat other foods."
"Ah, but do they know that?" said Junior. "When these things chased us from our pub and over the pond, they couldn't even swim. It seems they have forgotten, or can't do, some of the things when they were ... not infected."
Kelly laughed, "But they can run."
"Yeah." Junior scratched his head, becoming confused. "Obviously they can run and bite, but other skills seemed to have been taken away from them ... or they've forgotten them. I don't know."
"Well, I hope you're right." Kelly yawned and stretched out her arms, sticking out her chest
.
Junior stared at the delicious plump things that were being supported by a bra that she had found in the room, and felt a twinge in his groin. He excused himself from the bar stool and went away into his room.
"Oh." Kelly giggled. "Something I said?"
She jumped off of the bar stool and strolled over to the couch in the reception area, where Lloyd, Gordon and Joan were sitting.
"Bored?" Lloyd asked Kelly with a smile.
"A little," she replied. "But I've got a cheek to complain."
"How's your head? You know, after..."
Kelly sighed, "I'll live."
"We were just discussing what we all miss the most," said Gordon, smiling at Kelly. "Lloyd misses his TV, I miss my phone and Joan..."
"Cadbury's Twirls," Joan spoke up.
Lloyd asked Kelly as she sat down. "What about you?"
Kelly hunched her shoulders. "I don't know. It hasn't been that long."
Gordon guffawed, "It's been a week. That's long enough."
"My mum and dad, I suppose," said Kelly, bringing down the mood of the other three. She gulped and blew out her cheeks, feeling emotional. "I miss my mum and dad."
Chapter Twenty Six
Marvin woke up with a gasp. He looked around the dusky bedroom, sweat beads forming on his forehead, and looked to the side table. The knife was still sitting there, but he could see very little. He stepped off the bed and headed for the window and looked out. It was still light outside. Still the early evening. All he could see was fields and hills. Jory had the front bedroom and his view looked out at the Blanchland village.
Jory.
Marvin scratched his head in thought. He thought about the scar.
George? Matey?
He sat back down on the bed, using his palm to wipe the sweat from under his neck, and gazed at the carpet. He then raised his head, eyes and mouth open.
"Motherfucker."
The penny had dropped.
*
George Jeffers, more commonly known as Jory, had finally drifted off. His thoughts were the same every night for the last couple of weeks. He wondered how painful his demise was going to be. He had no idea why he had been dealt such a shitty hand, but it was done and there was nothing he could do about it.
Jory suddenly began to choke. He started to cough and woke himself up on doing so, then his eyes opened and he tried to get out of the bed once he saw a figure standing over him.
He tried to shout something out, but the sock that had been stuffed in his mouth was preventing him from doing so. He could see that it was Marvin in his room, and had no idea what was going through this psychopath's mind. Jory tried to get off the bed again and had only just realised that his wrists were tied to the brass headboard by two ties, one for each wrist.
Marvin began to laugh, and now Jory was becoming frightened and could feel his heart galloping. Jory tried to yell out once again, but this time Marvin shushed him in a calm manner. Marvin sat on the edge of the bed and took a knife out of his pocket, making Jory's eyes widen in horror.
"Let me tell you a little story," Marvin began.
Jory continued to make noises of protest, so Marvin punched him in the stomach, shutting him up. Marvin tried again. "When I was a young man, I was wild and reckless. I suppose I still am, but back in the day even more so."
Jory tried to kick out at Marvin, but Marvin showed him the knife and shook his head, telling him not to attempt that again.
"Anyway, where was I?" Marvin scratched his stubbly chin in thought. "Oh yes. When I was in my twenties, around twenty five years of age, I got so drunk one night that I ended up glassing some poor bastard in the bar, all because we were arguing over football. I did a few years for what I did, in Durham prison. I was on a wing where I was bullied by a gang of three men. They called themselves The Trio Crew. Pathetic name, don't you think?"
As soon as Marvin mentioned The Trio Crew, Jory's eyes widened. He knew what he was talking about.
Marvin continued, "So ... for many months, this little gang used to beat me, steal from me. During my last month, one member of the gang would rape me on a few occasions. While fucking me he'd call me matey. Ooh, you like that, don't you, matey? Your arse is so tight, matey. We're definitely going to do this again, matey. The guy was called George and ..." Marvin laughed and clicked his fingers. "Wait a minute. That was you. Small world."
Jory tried to move off the bed again, now panicking, and tried to say something once more. Marvin couldn't understand him, but the tone of Jory's voice was pleading.
"That was twenty three years ago." Marvin had a serious tone to his voice. "And I thought about it every day. You know, after that I tried to hang myself with my bed sheet and was eventually shipped to another prison. When I got out I thought about killing the three of you, especially you, every day. And now the world has turned to shit and here we are. What a funny old life it is."
Marvin snickered and drove the knife into Jory's left thigh, forcing the fifty-nine-year-old to moan in pain. Marvin pulled out the knife, now gritting his teeth, and Jory swung his head from side to side, continuing to groan.
"I don't know why the fuck you're moaning." Marvin grinned. "This is just the beginning. There's more to come."
Clasping the knife, Marvin grabbed the bit of sock from Jory's mouth, pulled it out and squeezed his cheeks together. He placed the tip of the blade inside his mouth so that an inch of the blade was in the corner, then drew the knife back, slicing deep, four inches across his left cheek.
This time Jory was allowed to scream out as blood flooded out over the bed sheets. He was expecting another wound soon and felt his stomach being pierced by Marvin's knife.
He was going to die. He was convinced he was going to die.
He was going to die anyway, but he wanted it to be more dignified than this. He wanted to have at least a few more weeks, even months, before the cancer began to eat away at him.
Marvin leaned over Jory, their faces only inches away from each other, and he began to tell him further things that he was going to do to him before he finally ended his life.
Jory continued to struggle and managed to get a right hand free as Marvin continued with his rant. Jory grabbed the lamp from the side table and hit Marvin across the head, dazing the man and making him fall to the bedroom floor.
Jory, still bleeding heavily, from the face especially, looked down on the unconscious Marvin Dickinson and tried to untie his other hand as he bled out. He could see the bedroom door, but with his wounds he wasn't sure if he could reach it.
Only one way to find out.
Chapter Twenty Seven
He had no idea how he had managed it, but Jory was now on the landing, leaving a trail of blood like some kind of horrific slug. His gut was aching, his thigh was throbbing and his mutilated face burned with pain.
He was lying flat on his stomach and took in deep breaths. What he was about to do was going to be excruciating, but if he didn't try and escape, he was going to be butchered once that animal in his room gained consciousness.
He pulled himself across the landing to the top of the stairs, took in a deep breath and slid down on his belly. He hadn't done this since he was a kid, but back then it was done for fun, to kill some time. Now, it was a necessity.
He had no idea where he was going to go if he made it outside. Maybe the hotel. Gordon and Joan seemed nice, and even though he had a dark past he was sure they would protect him. Lloyd, he wasn't so sure of. After all, although it had been over two decades ago, Jory did make his brother's life a misery when they were in prison.
Jory slid down the stairs and screamed as he progressed nearer to the ground floor, each step rubbing against his wounded stomach as he brushed past them. His yelling wasn't going to help him, especially if Marvin woke up earlier than he had wanted, but the pain was worse than he had imagined.
Once he had reached the bottom, he tried to touch his face with his bloody hand and sobbed once he tried to feel his left chee
k. The cut had been so deep that it had torn the cheek in two, creating two flaps, and Jory could touch his back teeth without putting his fingers into his mouth.
He yelled out as he tried to reach for the main door's handle and pulled it towards him. He had to stop. The pain in his gut felt intense. It was as if his insides were on fire. He had never been stabbed before, but had now been stabbed twice, once in the thigh and once in the stomach, and had had his face slashed.
The irony of the situation was that the infected were supposed to be the danger.
Jory had dragged himself out onto the garden path. He tried to get to his feet.
Maybe if he tried to hop to the hotel.
It seemed to take him forever to get on the one leg, his good leg, but two hops was all he managed before collapsing to the floor again.
He was sitting on the pavement, out of breath, and touched his wounded stomach. He was losing blood. Knowing that time wasn't on his side, he tried to shuffle over the road on his backside. It was a slow process, but it was less painful than what he was doing before. He looked up and gasped as he gazed at the bridge.
"Shit."
*
The screaming forced Marvin Dickinson to open his eyes. He quickly got up and groaned. His head was pounding. This was the same way he felt when he hit the brandy.
He rubbed the side of his head and suddenly moved his head from side to side and looked around at his surroundings. He then gazed at the bed. There was blood on the sheets. It then came back to him that he was in Jory's place.
He tried to stand. Once he did, the room span a couple of times and his throbbing head became worse. He picked his knife up off of the floor and put it into his pocket, then attempted to leave the bedroom. His legs were like jelly and his vision was impaired, like he badly needed glasses. He was in no fit state to be on his feet. He knew he was suffering from concussion, but he didn't want Jory to escape.
It was obvious to him that the screaming that had aroused him had come from Jory himself, but with his wounds, Marvin was certain that the man had no chance of escaping.
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