I couldn’t hear anything other than the occasional bird that chirped as though nothing had ever changed in the world. Clay, his spiked boxing gloves hanging around his neck by their laces, tried the front door. It opened. Before Clay could step foot inside the building, Misfit snuck ahead of him and stalked onwards. On light feet, Clay trotted in next, followed by me. Charlotte, supporting Kay, came last.
I edged my way along a galley style kitchen, my ears straining for any sounds and my nose straining for any smells that might indicate the dead. The thick dust on the work surfaces, completely undisturbed, suggested that no one living had been in the building for a very long time.
Through the kitchen door and into the gloomy corridor, I could begin to see how big the single story building was inside. To my direct left, at the end of the corridor, I spotted a door with another one facing me on the opposite side. Both were closed. To the right, I could see another six or seven doors leading off either side of the sprawling corridor, and one more at the far end. Misfit, just the other side of Clay, caught my eye. He nodded in the direction of the doors to my left. I nodded back, knowing he wanted me to check them out, and I watched him head to the right, him taking the first door on one side of the corridor, while Clay took the first door on the opposite side. I turned back to the first door and listened carefully with my ear pressed up against the wood.
I could feel Charlotte and Kay behind me as I gently pushed the door open. I poked my head through the gap and scanned the room: a small, highly polished dark wood table and six brown leather chairs sat at its centre, with a dresser and a sideboard against two of the walls. Other than that, the room was empty. I could see another door leading off the rear and I indicated for Charlotte to stay put while I checked it out. I edged across the dining room and opened the door just enough to see a porch with tall windows that allowed me to glimpse an expanse of patio, a sunken garden and a long overgrown lawn, a low wooden fence cutting it off from the fields at the back. I ducked back through the dining room and rejoined Charlotte and Kay out in the corridor.
Next I tried the door opposite. I found a living room with a white three piece suite positioned around a flat screen TV. The room was sparsely furnished but the patterned carpet in muted tones of beige, blue and brown and matching curtains, together with the framed prints that covered almost every bit of available wall space avoided the room looking bare. It would have felt homely had it not been for the prevailing smell of damp from the building being empty and unheated and unaired for so long.
I crept further into the room. I knew there was nowhere for a zombie to hide but I still felt uneasy walking into what used to be someone’s home. I guessed I’d always feel like a trespasser in this new world. I indicated for Charlotte it was safe to follow me and she guided Kay over to the sofa and set her down.
‘She’s going to be OK, isn’t she?’ said Charlotte, bending down in front of Kay who lay slumped and unresponsive against the sofa’s high back.
‘Of course she is. Once we get the antibiotics inside her she’ll be fine.’ I smiled and tried my best to look upbeat, just in case Kay wasn’t as out of it as she looked. ‘You guys wait here and I’ll be back in a minute.’
Back in the hallway, I saw the two boys ahead of me checking out each of the bungalow’s rooms. I edged along the hall until I reached Misfit and I stood at his back. He opened a door and peered inside. After a moment I heard him say, ‘Clear,’ so I eased past him, and headed on to the last door at the end of the corridor. As I wrapped my fingers around the handle, I felt Misfit move up behind me. I opened the door just a little and waited, my ears straining. I heard nothing from inside so I swung the door wide open.
‘Fuck!’ I said, the unexpected sight making me incapable of doing anything other than standing with my mouth wide open.
Inside, I saw a coach had crashed through the side of the bungalow. It had come to a stop at a slight angle with its entire front section up to its first set of wheels embedded through the bedroom wall. The impact had shoved the double bed halfway across the room. Brick and debris lay over the bedcovers and around the front of the coach. I couldn’t see through the hole around the coach to the outside, but I guessed it must have veered off the road to the right of the property and steamrollered through the fence and into the side wall. Escapees of the initial outbreak, I reasoned, probably unaware they had infected aboard.
The coach’s large front window had been smashed on impact and I saw that the driver and some of the passengers had been propelled out of the vehicle and into the room. One of the zombies had been impaled on a knob at the foot end of the brass bed frame, the metal globe embedded in its chest. When it saw me, it perked up and reached out its claw-like fingers. But with its legs sprawled out on the bed behind it, it just looked like it was attempting the front crawl in an imaginary swimming pool. Held fast, it posed no threat. No, the threat came from the driver who stood at the foot of the bed. Zombie-Driver growled before lunging at me. This snapped me out of my catatonic state but too late to shut the bedroom door. The withered driver had already wedged itself between the door and the door frame.
I stabbed the driver through the ear and reached back inside the room to close the door but before I could, another zombie gripped the wood. More zombies staggered forwards, while the rest of the coach’s passengers began piling out through the front window, plopping down onto the bed and the littered floor gracelessly before rising to join the queue for the long awaited snacks.
‘Fall back!’ I yelled, realising I wasn’t going to get the door shut.
I backed up into the corridor, my knife held before me, ready to kill if I had to but not wanting to because I knew it would slow me down. Clay fell in beside me from the other side of the corridor and slammed his spiked fist through the heads of a couple of front runners. The fallen bodies in the confined space slowed the others down a little but they soon managed to clamber over their fallen comrades to pursue us. I felt Misfit’s hand wind around my chest as he pulled me backwards, hoping to speed me up.
‘Go and help Charlotte get Kay out,’ I yelled at him over my shoulder. ‘Me and Clay will hold this lot off. Go!’
Misfit hesitated then released me and darted off down the corridor yelling, ‘Out! Get out!’
Me and Clay had put a little distance between us and the zombies but we had to stop just before we got to the living room door in order to give the others chance to escape. I glanced behind me to see Misfit and Charlotte emerge from the room, dragging Kay between them. ‘Go! Go! Go!’ I yelled as I slammed my knife through a zombie’s head before backing up as much as Misfit and Charlotte’s progress would allow. The mass of zombies was relentless as it pursued us along the long corridor, their ravaged arms reaching out, desperate for food after so long in captivity.
‘Not today, guys,’ I said as I backed into the kitchen.
Clay attempted to close the internal kitchen door but the sheer weight of the zombies pushing it from behind prevented him from doing so and he was flung backwards as the door swung open. With the others already out front, me and Clay turned and darted for the external door.
Outside, I saw Misfit and Charlotte bundling Kay into the back of the Mazda. Misfit then dived into the driver’s seat just as me and Clay reached the car. We both flew into the back, practically crushing Kay, though I didn’t think she was in a condition to notice. With our arms and legs entwined, I glanced back towards the bungalow to see zombies spilling out onto the forecourt, their arms outstretched, their rotten faces saying, ‘Please come back. We’d love you to stay for dinner.’
Offer refused.
A short drive later, we pulled up outside an Oast house surrounded by countryside. It appealed to us due to the tall brick wall around its grounds and an iron gate at the front. Plus the area was clear of zombies, so Misfit stopped the car in front of the gates. With my knife in my hand, I jumped out, having squeezed through the front seats to sit alongside Misfit en route, and opened up so he could
drive through into the front yard. He pulled over beside the bright red front door.
I closed the gate and jogged to catch up with the car. The place looked secure from the outside, but we had no way of knowing what awaited us on the inside so, this time, Charlotte stayed in the car with Kay while me, Misfit and Clay went to check it out.
The front door was locked. Misfit shot off around the circular section of the building and it wasn’t long before I heard a smash and not long after that, the front door swung open. Misfit stood before us.
‘Nice place,’ I said as I squeezed past him into the entrance hall.
‘Yeah, I’ve gone up in the world,’ he replied, following me, his knife held at his side.
Me, Misfit and Clay split up and checked the downstairs rooms.
‘All clear,’ I said to them as we gathered in the living room.
‘Let’s head up,’ said Misfit, nodding towards the staircase that led off the far end of the room.
Without another word, the three of us edged our way up the stairs. My senses automatically searched for sounds, smells and sights that could indicate the undead. I heard nothing, smelt nothing and saw nothing out of the ordinary but I had learned from the last place we stopped at – that meant nothing. Expect the unexpected.
At the top of the stairs we paused to survey the scene – only four doors; three closed, one partially open. Misfit darted towards the open door. He pushed it fully open and, beyond him, I could see a sleek, modern bathroom sink sat below a window. Misfit took a second to run his eyes around the room from where he stood before turning back to me and Clay and nodding the all clear. We then split up for the last three rooms. I paused outside mine and placed my ear against the wood, straining to hear any tell tale sounds within. I couldn’t hear anything so I pushed the handle and slowly shoved the door open. As I stuck my head through the gap I realised I was holding my breath. It took a few seconds for my mind to register that the room – a large master bedroom set in the roundel section of the building – was empty before I could relax enough to let the breath escape.
Once the guys confirmed the all clear, we darted down the stairs, out the front door and I gave Charlotte the thumbs up. Clay, followed by Misfit, headed around to the boot of the car and searched inside for something while I helped Charlotte get Kay out. Together we guided her into the house. It wasn’t easy – her skin was so clammy I worried she’d slip out of my supporting grasp. And it didn’t help that she had the agility and focus of an emotional drunk. She struggled and lashed out at us half-heartedly, making progress slow and awkward, her words incomprehensible.
At the base of the staircase, and just as I was wondering how we were going to drag Kay up, Misfit, clutching a small bottle of water, caught up with us. He stuffed the water bottle under his arm and, while me and Charlotte hauled Kay up by the arms he shoved her from behind. Together, the three of us got her up to a kid’s bedroom and placed her gently down onto a quilt emblazoned with pink hearts and princesses.
Clay returned to the bedroom carrying the holdall we used as a first aid and medical kit, and where we kept the general supply of antibiotics we’d managed to stock pile from various chemists and supermarket pharmacies. Kay would have her own supply somewhere about her – or she should have – given to her after she got bitten by Anna. I watched as Clay got down onto his knees on the floor by the side of the bed. He laid the first aid kit onto the floor and unzipped it, rooted around in it and pulled out a little brown bottle. Checking the label, he undid the safety lid and tipped out a couple of pills.
Misfit watched patiently, the bottle of water open and ready as Clay put the pills to Kay’s lips. She clamped her teeth together like a reluctant child and shook her head but Clay persisted and prised her jaw open before slotting the pills inside. Misfit pressed the lip of the bottle into Kay’s mouth before she had chance to spit out the pills, swilling water into her and forcing her to swallow or choke. Me and Charlotte stood and watched as Kay swung her head to the side of the bed and threw up on the floor, just missing Clay. What came up was mostly clear liquid – I couldn’t be sure when she last ate anything – and we could all see the two white pills sitting in the centre of the wet patch on the carpet.
‘Let’s try that again, shall we?’ said Clay, wiping sweat from his brow.
After a couple more goes, Clay and Misfit finally succeeded in getting the antibiotics down Kay’s throat and making them stay there. Charlotte offered to stay with Kay and to keep her cool with a wet flannel while the rest of us went to settle in to our new – and improved – home. Luxury after so long living in caravans.
‘How long until the antibiotics start working?’ I asked Clay as we collected our food supplies and meagre personal belongs from the Mazda. It was parked as close to the front door as possible, ready for a quick getaway if one was needed.
Clay slung a backpack on his shoulder and stood by the car. He shook his head. ‘No idea,’ he said. ‘Soon, I hope.’
‘She is going to be OK, isn’t she?’
‘Sophie, I’m not a doctor. To be honest, I don’t know if she’s going to be all right. Sorry.’
‘But she has to be.’
Clay placed a hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. ‘I know,’ he said with a nod before turning back to the car and grabbing a box from the boot, leaving me unsatisfied.
Misfit had been stood by the car watching mine and Clay’s exchange and as Clay disappeared into the house, he came over and placed his arms around my shoulders.
‘She’ll be OK,’ he whispered into my ear.
Inside the kitchen, we dumped our supplies on the work surface. Packing things away in cupboards – like after doing a supermarket shop in pre-zom days – was just a waste of time and energy.
‘So, who’s having the master bedroom?’ said Misfit. He gazed at me as he leant his back against the work top.
‘Shall we be gents and let the ladies have that master room, like?’ said Clay. ‘You and me can have the double room, eh mate? Cool?’
I saw a flash of disappointment in Misfit’s eyes. I wondered if my expression matched his. Misfit opened his mouth to say something but Clay cut him off, adding: ‘Well, come on, roomie, let’s settle in and then I’ll have a check on how Kay’s doing.’
I glared at Clay’s back as he trotted out of the kitchen. Misfit shrugged, gave me a half smile, turned and followed after Clay.
I took mine and Charlotte’s stuff up to the master bedroom. It’s a lovely room, with white circular walls, low windows and a cast iron bed in the centre. It made me think of how the Martello tower might have looked if it had ever been finished. Memories of me and Sam up there flooded into my head. But I shook them out because, like Misfit said, mourning is a waste of precious energy, right? I was ready to move on.
Apart from over a year’s worth of dust, the master bedroom was as bright and fresh as any room I’d seen in a while and I had the feeling I’d just checked into a country hotel for a romantic weekend. But when Charlotte bounced in to tell me Kay was sleeping and that Clay was with her, I was reminded that romance was definitely off the agenda.
Yesterday passed with us all taking turns in forcing pills down Kay’s throat and jumping out the way whenever she threw them back up. I wanted to believe that her reluctance to take the medicine she needed in order to live was because she was too delirious to know what she was doing. But I had a horrible feeling it was intentional. That she had given up.
During my breaks from taking care of Kay, I managed to finish writing my account of our last thirteen days in Folkestone. It was a relief to have it all out of my system and onto paper, and good to be able to start this new diary this morning. I have no idea where the story that will fill these pages will take us all. I just wish I had a better opening than my friend being so sick. But, let’s be honest, it’s not like there can be a happy opening to the diary of life in the zombie apocalypse, can there?
11.30pm
There’s been very lit
tle change with Kay. That’s as good as today’s news gets. I’m going to get some rest. Misfit has the night shift.
December 29, 4am
‘Wake up.’ My eyes shot open and I sat up, ready to fight zombies with my bare hands. ‘It’s OK.’ Misfit – I couldn’t make him out in the dark but once I’d come to my senses, I recognised his voice – placed a hand on my shoulder to calm me.
‘What’s going on?’
‘It’s Kay. Her temperature’s gone through the roof. It’s 106 degrees. She won’t stop shaking and throwing up.’
‘Oh my god.’
‘I think she’s dying, Soph.’
‘No!’
‘I’ve woken Clay – he’s with her now – and I’ve come for you and Charlotte. I think we need to say goodbye.’
‘Fuck off. No fucking way!’ I scrambled out of bed, leaving Misfit to wake Charlotte, and I darted across the landing.
I hesitated at the open door of Kay’s room and saw Clay standing over her bed. He turned to look at me as I took tentative steps across the room to join him. His eyes locked into mine – wide and frightened – and he shook his head.
‘She’s not…’ I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence.
‘She still with us but…’ Clay wasn’t doing so good finishing sentences either.
We both glanced down to Kay’s unconscious form. She looked so small and weak. I couldn’t believe things had turned out like this. Not the fighter I knew. I looked back at Clay. He was always the one that seemed to know what to do, so seeing him looking helpless and hopeless made icy shivers of fear run through my body.
Blog of the Dead (Book 3): Lost Page 2
