Blog of the Dead (Book 3): Lost

by Lisa Richardson

  Inside, the only light came from the bank of grimy glass doors that I’d entered through. The dark and gloomy interior combined with racks of clothing, columns and free standing mirrors, made it very hard to tell if there were any zombies inside. They could be lurking around any corner. As a place to find shelter, it sucked. I edged my way further in, my eyes scanning left and right. I wondered if I could find anything to use as a weapon. But all I saw were clothes, hats, gloves… useless.

  I heard a groan and a shuffle and I stopped, my ears straining to figure out what direction the sound had come from. A bang from behind me made me jump and I turned to see zombies lining up outside the doors. They began slamming their withered hands against the glass, and as their bodies gathered, they blocked out even more of the daylight, plunging me into a deeper gloom.

  ‘Shit,’ I said under my breath as I realised the entrance wasn’t only blocked but that the zombies would soon figure out how to prise open the door I’d come in through. I had hoped just to lay low for a while, until Mark cleared off, but now I realised I would have to find another way out.

  I turned my attention back to the way ahead, gasping as I spotted a shadowy figure lumbering towards me. Satisfied it was only the one, I stalked behind the racks of clothes to my right, keeping myself low, hoping the zombie wouldn’t work out where I’d gone. I waited a moment, gathering my nerve before I carried on. I ducked from clothes rack to clothes rack, careful not to knock into them and cause the hangers to scrape against the metal frames. Once I was confident I’d left the zombie behind, I stopped to scan the area ahead. I didn’t see any movement so I crept on, the frenzied sound of rotting hands against glass behind me driving me on.

  Further ahead, I could see the food hall coming up, a display of Christmas food and decorations at the entrance. I carried on towards it. A little more light filtered in through the bank of four doors at the very end of the store as I made it into the food hall, but I still trod carefully, knowing that zombies could be waiting in any of the aisles. The shelves I passed were for the most part bare, just mouldy perishables like loaves of bread and sandwiches remained. In the cake aisle, the contents of one shelf had tumbled, or been knocked to the floor and some of the boxes had burst open. The bitter smell of decayed sponge caught me in the throat and I clamped my hand over my mouth to stop myself from coughing. It passed and I lowered my hand and moved on quickly.

  In the next aisle I grabbed a packet of biscuits off a nearby shelf. I wasn’t particularly hungry and I knew they’d be well and truly stale but I needed the energy boost if I was to keep going until I returned home. I pulled at the plastic with grubby fingers and revealed the chocolate and oat biscuits inside. Before I could take a bite, I heard the sound of smashing glass from back the way I’d come. I assumed the zombies had broken their way through but then, from a way off, I heard, ‘SOPHIE! I KNOW YOU’RE IN HERE!’ Mark had found me, the zombies gathered outside the store no doubt tipped him off. ‘You can’t hide from me, Bitch! I will find you!’

  To make matters worse, I heard a groan and I turned to see a zombie stagger out from an aisle ahead of me. It was joined by another.

  ‘Oh shit!’ I said. I dropped the packet of biscuits and darted off to the right, towards the checkouts, hoping to slip past them that way. It worked and I continued through the food hall, my eyes flicking to the aisles on the left and right in case any more zombies were waiting for me. The way remained clear and I crashed into the doors at the end of the food hall. They were locked.

  ‘Shit!’ I said, slamming my fists against the glass.

  I could see the street outside was free of zombies but I couldn’t get out. I had to turn back and find another way. Only problem was, the way back would be blocked by Mark and the zombies he’d brought in with him. I was fucked. I glanced at the glass doors. If only I could smash them. But I would need something strong enough to do it first time, something like Mark’s pickaxe. Anything else would just bounce off the toughened glass and the noise would alert both Mark and the zombies as to my whereabouts. I really was fucked. Only one thing for it, head back into the store and stay out of sight.

  Maybe I can sneak around Mark and the zombies to reach the doors, I thought.

  I hurried back through the food hall, careful to avoid the zombies I’d snuck past earlier, and, back in the clothing department, I took cover behind a rail of jumpers. I could see the first wave of zombies staggering between the clothes rails but I couldn’t see Mark anywhere. How many zombies had trickled into the store behind him, I didn’t know.

  I darted across to the next clothes rail, making sure I wasn’t spotted by the zombies because drawing them to me now would be like a big red neon arrow pointed at my head, and Mark would find me straight away. The front runners were a few metres further into the store and I could see more emerging from the gloom behind them. How I’d ever get past them without them and Mark spotting me, I didn’t know. And what if the doors were blocked by even more zombies? I had to rethink my plan. I spotted an escalator to the next floor. Well, going up would be plunging me deeper into the store in one respect – I mean, those people who run up the stairs in the big old house in the horror movies rarely make it back down again, do they? But I had no choice.

  Taking care not to be seen by the zombies, I snuck from rail to rail until I reached the escalator. Keeping low, I crept from the nearest clothing rail to the bottom of the escalator – long since given up on moving – and I jogged up the first few steps as quietly as I could.

  ‘SOPHIE, COME OUT, BITCH!’

  I stopped and ducked down at the sound of Mark’s voice. After a moment I dared to peek over the railing of the escalator. I saw him in the store below as he swung his pick axe at a zombie’s head. He pulled the weapon free and swung it again, this time at a rail of trousers. The sound of metal clattering against metal drew more zombies towards Mark but he seemed oblivious as he stormed further into the store. I breathed out as he carried on towards the food hall, knowing he had no idea where I was.

  I thought about tackling him while his back was turned. But with what? I had nothing but my bare hands. And while Misfit was deadly with his bare hands, me, not so much. I knew I wouldn’t stand a chance against Mark, not even with the element of surprise on my side. Besides, there were too many zombies around and I couldn’t risk leaving myself open to attack if I got caught up struggling with Mark.

  Only one thing for it, I carried on up the steps and out into the underwear department. I glanced all around me. I had no idea where to go. I decided to find somewhere to hide to wait it out until Mark had given up on me. He would eventually, right? I sped off, not really thinking about the direction, just wanting to disappear. I darted through the men’s clothes, into the children’s section and the homeware department. Then I saw something that brightened my day no end. I saw windows at the end of the store. One was open.

  I darted towards the open window and thrust my head outside. I looked down to the street below. The street was empty of zombies and I realised I was on the side of the store above the food hall. I also noticed that there was nothing – not a damn thing – to use to help me down. Just a shear drop. There was no ledge, no drainpipe to shimmy down – nothing. I glanced back into the store for inspiration. Nothing but useless homeware items – towels, flannels, soap dispensers, mugs, picture frames, cushions, sheets. Sheets! I could tie sheets together like they did in old prison break movies. Who hasn’t wanted to try that… am I right?

  I grabbed a sheet off the shelf and ripped it out of its packet, tugging on the fabric to check its strength. Satisfied it would hold me, I flung it over my shoulder while I pulled another two sheets out of their packets. I took a corner of each sheet and tied all three together, hoping my knots would be strong enough for the job. I bet Misfit would tie great knots that would hold an elephant but my clumsy attempt would have to do. I decided on adding one more, just to make sure it would be plenty long enough and I ran back to the window dragging my sh
eet-rope with me. I tied one end to the pipes of a radiator below the window and tossed the other end outside. Giving a final tug to ensure the makeshift rope was attached firmly, I climbed out of the window, clutching the sheet in my sweaty hands.

  I prayed the sheets would take my weight and, holding my breath, I slid down towards the ground. Luckily I only had one floor to go down or I didn’t think my nerves would have taken it. Before I knew it my feet touched solid ground and I let go of the sheet. I glanced left and right and saw that the street was clear of zombies in both directions. I was about to run for it when I glanced back into Marks & Spencers, into the food Hall. I saw Mark standing at the doors where I’d been trapped moments before. Zombies approached him from behind, still a few metres away, but he was oblivious to them. Mark’s eyes were locked onto mine. His top lip curled up into a snarl. There was nothing left of the bumbling, slightly awkward Mark I first met at the house; no trace of the harmless guy that drew pictures of my friend with flowers in her hair.

  ‘Fuck,’ I said as I saw him raise his pickaxe. I ran then, to the sound of smashing glass as Mark made his way through the door.

  I sprinted to the left, Down North Street, into Onslow Street.

  ‘Bitch, come back!’ I heard Mark yell at me.

  Tears streamed down my cheeks as I ran with all my might, determined not to let this murderer take me too. I sprinted past a little row of houses to my left and just before I came out into Farnham Road, I saw three zombies blocking the way ahead. I had nothing but my will to live to defend myself with. I ran at the zombies, screaming and I burst through them like we were playing a game of Red Rover.

  I heard grunts behind me and guessed Mark had stopped to kill the zombies before he could pursue me again slowing him down. I ran on back towards the house, hoping – just fucking hoping – that the others would be back by now; the house itself wouldn’t offer me any protection against someone with a pickaxe and a raging blood lust.

  I sprinted back down Farnham Road and turned right into Denzil Road – my road. I yelled as I ran, wanting to draw the others to me if they were in hearing range. Only trouble was, a few more zombies staggered out into the street to join the other three I’d slammed though earlier. Around seven or eight zombies lumbered in the street still a little way ahead of me, but cutting me off from the house.

  Emotion and exhaustion got the better of me and zapped my momentum. I skidded to a halt before I reached the three frontrunners. As they staggered towards me, I ran to the side, ducked between two cars and onto the pavement to avoid them. They changed course to follow me, while two more up ahead staggered to cut me off. I stopped.

  Mark must have seen my predicament because I heard his voice behind me. ‘No way out, Sophie,’ he said close to my back. ‘It’s either me or the zombies. You choose. I get satisfaction either way.’

  ‘Why, Mark? Why would you kill defenceless people?’ I asked, feeling that he owed me an explanation before he killed me too.

  I heard him snort but I didn’t turn to look at him. I decided I’d rather not see the pickaxe coming.

  ‘It doesn’t really feel any different from killing zombies,’ he said. ‘They’re us and we’re them. Do you remember how hard it was to kill your first zombie?’ He didn’t wait for me to answer. ‘It was hard, right? Then it got easier. It’s no different with killing people. It gets easier.’ As he spoke, my gaze darted between the various zombies approaching us. They were still far enough away that at their pace, I’d get to hear at least some of Mark’s story. ‘The first human I killed,’ he continued, ‘was an old bloke who wouldn’t let me in his car when the outbreak kicked off.’

  ‘What the fuck…?’ I managed to mutter but I didn’t think Mark was listening.

  ‘I was stuck in the middle of town when people all around me started eating each other and I saw this old guy fiddling with his keys, trying to open his car door. I headed towards him. I was going to help but he managed to get the door open just before I got there and I was so close to him that I thought he’d let me in to escape the zombies but he just looked me in the eye and shut the door and locked it down.’

  The zombies lumbered ever closer…

  ‘He intended to start the car but his old fingers were slow and he fumbled around trying to get the key into the ignition. I banged on the side of the car but he ignored me. Zombies were heading towards me but still he wouldn’t open the door. So I kicked the window in.’

  I gasped with shock at what I was hearing, seething with anger and hatred.

  ‘I was so mad at the old bloke for not letting me in when he had the chance that I dived into that car and I grabbed him by the throat with one hand and I punched him with the other until his head caved in. He could quite easily have let me in his car.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ I mumbled, feeling sick.

  ‘I killed your mum and dad because they treated me like a criminal when I broke into their place, just like all the others did. I was just looking for somewhere to stay to shelter from the madness outside, but they acted like I was there to steal the TV or your mum’s jewellery or something. People were like that early on. Like protecting their property was more important than helping people. Nowadays people are more worried about losing their food, and they’d kill you for it, they would, they’d kill you if you didn’t kill them first.

  ‘You murdered my mum and dad…’

  ‘They forced me into it, Sophie. Don’t you see? Just like the others. They wouldn’t help me.’

  ‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this.’

  ‘They’ve only themselves to blame.’

  ‘Jake. What about Jake?’

  ‘Oh yeah, Jake Bake,’ he said, and I hated hearing that name coming from his disgusting, vile lips. I wanted to reach round and tear his head off his shoulders but still I resisted the urge to turn.

  ‘I wondered what she was talking about. I heard her talking to your dad before they realised I was in the house, going on about, “Not my Jake Bake!”’ Mark put on a high pitched voice, mimicking my mum and I gritted my teeth. ‘Then, after I’d finished with them, I found the kid shut up in his room upstairs and realised she had been talking about him,’ he continued. ‘He was a zombie. I promise. I’ve never hurt a kid. Ever.’

  ‘You’re sick. Don’t try and make out like you have any redeeming features.’

  Three zombies had eased themselves between some parked cars while two more had the path ahead sealed off. Another three zombies staggered down the road to join their comrades. I heard Mark’s feet crunch up behind me. I felt his body behind mine. I could see him reflected in the side of the car to my right. He raised the pickaxe and swung it. I ducked and the point of the pickaxe dug deep into the wooden fence to my left.

  Mark grunted with defeat while I slipped past him and out onto the street again. I watched as the zombies lunged for Mark, forcing him to leave the embedded pickaxe. He turned and continued after me. But at least we were now equal. Neither of us had a weapon.

  I yelled as I approached the house, still a long way at the far end of the lengthy road. I saw someone emerge from the house – Clay, followed by Kay and Charlotte. I heard Clay shout for me. He had no idea what I was running from. The others would think me and Mark were running from the zombies, not that I was running for my life from Mark.

  He was gaining. I could see a faint shadow falling over me. Clay was sprinting towards me. I dodged past the last three zombies when – SLAM – I hit the ground on my stomach. Mark rugby tackled me to the tarmac. He grabbed me and rolled me over onto my back and, with hate in his eyes, he punched me in the jaw. I raised my hands to try and hold him off but he was too strong for me and he hit me again, this time in my right cheek. And again and again. I struggled beneath him. Aside from the blows from his fists, I could see zombies approaching us from over Mark’s shoulder.

  ‘Stop!’ I yelled. ‘It’s too late, Mark. You can’t hide what you are!’ Whack! I could taste copper in my mouth and warm, thick blood
ran down my cheek. ‘Stop… zombies… we’ll both be–’ Whack! My head swam from the barrage of punches and a cold, grey fizzing fuzz seeped into my brain. I couldn’t lose consciousness, not with zombies only a few feet away.

  If Mark understood how close the zombies were to us, he didn’t care. He hit me again, intent on smashing my skull in. I could hear voices yelling and I knew they were Clay, Kay and Charlotte. They sounded so far away when in reality they could only have been metres from me now. As I drifted off into unconsciousness, I couldn’t help thinking that Charlotte would be dumping Mark for sure. I guess their relationship was over before it had really begun. As was mine and Misfit’s… The thought of Misfit made me fight the darkness that wanted to swallow me. I hit out at Mark, hoping to knock him off me.

  His weight lifted and I wondered if I’d managed to get in a lucky hit and dislodge him myself. I forced my swollen eyes open to see Mark lying on his back on the ground ahead of me and Clay standing over him. Zombies surrounded the both of them but while Mark couldn’t defend himself because he was out cold, no doubt from one of Clay’s punches, Clay slipped his gloves on and rammed his spikes through zombie heads.

  I struggled when I felt hands on me but soothing words of, ‘It’s OK, sweetie,’ informed me that I could trust them. I allowed Charlotte and Kay to help me up.

  ‘Do I leave any zombies for him?’ asked Clay, nodding down at Mark.