‘Shit, head for the pub!’ I said picking up speed, knowing we couldn’t turn back and leave Clay there by himself. I hoped we’d make it before the front runners cut us off.
Clay had made it to the pub. The door must have been unlocked because he disappeared inside the building.
Adrenaline pushed us forwards, lending even greater speed to our exhausted bodies. I reached the door with the first wave of zombies only a couple of metres away. The door had obviously been bashed in at some point, the lock busted from the frame. Clay must have drawn a bolt across the top of the door on the inside and the bottom of the door gave only slightly as I pushed. Problem was, we couldn’t get in.
As the zombies approached, me and Kay pounded on the door while Charlotte and Misfit stood at our backs their weapons raised.
‘Clay! Let us in!’
‘For fuck’s sake, Clay, you fucktard, let us in!’
I heard the sound of blades cutting through zombie brains and turned, knife in hand, ready to use it. We were trapped up against the pub’s front door with a horde of zombies before us.
‘You should’ve all run for it when you could!’ I snapped my head around to see Clay stood at the open door of the pub.
‘Come on!’ I yelled at the others. We all darted inside with the zombies surging after us.
‘We weren’t going to leave you here with that lot, were we?’ said Kay as she slipped past Clay.
He began to close the door but a zombie slid its hand inside. Clay pushed against the zombie’s fingers, flattening them, but he couldn’t close the door enough to get the bolt through. The rest of us added our weight to the back of the door but with the sheer volume of zombies on the other side, it surged inwards.
‘Fall back!’ I yelled. We let go of the door, turned and darted through the old pub, Clay lagging behind on his injured leg. Our feet pounded on the stone floor as we shot past the curved, dark wood bar with its red velvet cushioned stools. I spotted a sturdy wooden door to the left of the bar. ‘That way,’ I said.
We all bundled through the door and Clay slammed it shut behind him. It didn’t take long before we heard the sound of fists pounding the wood, rattling it in its frame. I glanced around myself to see we were in a hallway. To the right and a little way down, I saw a door. I headed for it and peered through the glass panel in its top section. It led to behind the bar and offered no way out – I could already see zombies piling behind the bar and lumbering towards me. I headed back to the others.
‘No way out there,’ I said.
The only way to go was up the staircase to our left. At the top of the stairs, I could see a corridor straight on. A quick inspection revealed the pub’s kitchen. Back down the corridor and to the left, led to the pub’s living quarters. A living room on this level and, bundling up another staircase, we found two bedrooms and a bathroom on the third level. I could hear banging below and wondered how long we had before the zombies managed to break the doors down. We would need an escape plan in place before that happened.
I crossed through one of the bedrooms and opened the dormer window and leaned out as far as I dared. I could see zombies below, but it appeared that the bulk of the horde must have entered the pub after us. I glanced to the left and saw only the dormer window of the next bedroom and then nothing except the roof and then another building across a road, a two story house. I reasoned it was too far to jump to from the roof of the pub. I looked to my right. That way stood a one-story extension and it looked possible to reach it if we were able to keep our balance to the end of the sloped roof outside the dormer window. We’d then have to jump down onto the roof of the extension. If we could do that, I hoped it would be possible to jump down to the car park and dart through the few zombies down there and get back to the road.
I ducked inside the room and explained my plan to the others. No one jumped with joy at the thought but it was all we had. I heard the sound of breaking glass then, pleased at least to have had my wish of having an escape plan worked out. And you can’t beat an impending zombie attack to give you the courage to balance on sloping roof tiles three stories up.
The sound of splintering wood came next. ‘Go!’ I said to Kay, who was closest other than me to the window.
She hauled herself through the limited gap, cursing at the awkwardness of it all. I heard feet pounding up the stairs.
‘Hurry!’ I said to Kay. She had cleared the window but I could see her moving slowly on the roof outside. There was little to get any purchase on and she shimmied across the tiles on her bum, inching sideways. Charlotte went out next. She eased herself out onto the sloping roof and sat next to Kay.
‘You’re going to need to move it,’ I said to them, realising it was going to be a while before they had cleared enough room for me and the two guys.
I heard shuffling out in the hallway.
‘They’re coming!’ said Clay from the bedroom doorway. He had his gloves on ready to start spiking in order to hold the zombies back.
‘Come on guys,’ I said out the window.
‘We’re going as fast as we can!’ said Kay.
They had almost cleared enough room for me to go next. I began hoisting myself up and through the window when I heard Charlotte shriek. I saw her slipping down like she was on a slide at the park.
‘Help me!’ she cried as she made a desperate grab for the guttering. Me and Kay each flung out an arm to grab hold of her, but we both missed. Charlotte lost her grip on the guttering and plummeted over the edge of the roof. I heard her hit the ground below with a thud.
‘Charlotte!’ I screamed. I gripped the window frame as I glanced down to the front of the pub. Kay grasped hold of the roof behind her, stuck still at the sight of her friend falling and no doubt the realisation that, if Charlotte had managed to grab her hand, Kay would’ve been pulled off the roof with her. ‘Charlotte!’ I screamed again.
I saw Charlotte stir and I heard her cry out in pain as she lifted her head off the concrete forecourt. Zombies staggered towards her. I watched as she tried to raise herself from the ground but she slumped back down, her injuries too severe for her to get to her feet. Instead she began to crawl as best she could. Weaponless – her cleaver lost in the fall – it was all she could do.
‘Shit. SHIT!’ I said as I eased myself all the way through the window and out onto the roof. ‘We have to get to her, Kay,’ I said.
‘I’m on it.’ I watched Kay put renewed effort into edging sideways.
I heard a kafuffle from back inside the pub. I span around and peered in through the window. I couldn’t see much but I saw that zombies had made it into the bedroom. Misfit appeared at the window.
‘Keep moving,’ he said.
I heard Clay yelling at Misfit to get out and I shimmied over on the roof as much as I could in order to give Misfit room to get out. Kay had made it onto the roof of the extension and I wasn’t far off. I saw Kay jump down to the car park ahead of me.
I reached the edge of the roof and leapt down onto the extension, to the ground and around to the front of the pub. I slid my knife into zombies’ brains while Kay continued to split heads with her axe. More emerged from the pub, realising the fight had moved to the outside, in the traditional English pub brawl manner.
While me and Kay held the zombies back, Misfit darted around the corner but instead of joining us in slaying zombies, he carried on down the road. He turned left into the next street and disappeared from view. I wondered what he was doing; I knew he wouldn’t abandon us. I heard the distant sound of smashing glass, followed, a moment or two later by Misfit wheeling a car around the corner and back to the pub. He had the driver’s side door open and, with gritted teeth, held onto it as he pushed the car into position in front of the pub’s door, blocking it so no more zombies could get out.
He rejoined me and Kay to finish off the last of the zombies outside. Once they had all been slaughtered, I went down on my knees beside Charlotte.
‘Charlotte,’ I said softly,
‘can you hear me?’ She had her eyes open but she wasn’t moving any more. She nodded at me, wincing as she did so. I held her hand in mine.
I heard a thud, then, back around from the direction of the car park.
‘Where’s Clay?’ said Misfit.
‘Shit,’ I said. I got to my feet and darted around to the car park to find Clay sprawled on the concrete. He was covered in vibrant red blood but I could see it wasn’t the result of a bad fall. Bite marks covered his arms and a big one on his neck was spouting blood. ‘Shit, Clay!’
I got down on my hands and knees beside him. Kay and Misfit had joined me. I watched Misfit put his hands to his face. He stood like that, not moving, not looking. Kay covered her mouth with a hand and then knelt down beside me.
Clay’s eyes flickered open and he glanced from me to Kay and up to Misfit. Misfit still refused to look.
‘Guess it’s my time, like,’ croaked Clay. He even managed a little resigned smile. ‘Hey, don’t worry about me, buddy,’ he called to Misfit.’ I watched as still Misfit refused to move or look at Clay. ‘I’m gonna see my mum and my sisters. It’s all good.’ Misfit glanced over, his teeth gritted as he tried to keep the tears back.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said to Clay.
‘Ah, when you gotta go, you gotta go,’ he said.
‘No, I mean about before. About–’
‘Sophie,’ he began, cutting me off. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘But…’
‘You were… right. I… I was jealous of you. He’d always much prefer… to… to be with you.’
‘Clay…’
Clay shook his head, the pain he must have felt from the numerous bites was etched in his face. He didn’t wait for us to say goodbye, or for one of us to offer. He lifted a spiked glove and trust it up, though his chin and drove it into his own brain. I gasped at the suddenness of it. Gone just like that. I glanced at Misfit to see him with one arm against the wall, bent double as though he was about to throw up. After a moment, he straightened up and kicked the white painted wall of the pub twice. ‘AGHHHH!’ he yelled and then went down on his haunches with his hands over his face.
I allowed myself a few sobs before taking a deep breath and swallowing hard. ‘We need to get Charlotte out of here,’ I said, worried that zombies would soon manage to crawl over the car blocking the pub’s door and get to her, still laying where we left her at the front of the pub.
Kay wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand and without a word we stood. I leant down and crossed Clay’s gloved hands across his chest. No time to bury him and we couldn’t take him with us. Misfit was standing next to me when I straightened up. I slipped my hand into his and led him away and around to front of the pub to catch up with Kay.
We carried Charlotte out of there as carefully as we could, keen to avoid causing her any further damage. We had no idea of what internal injuries she had sustained. Back at the cottage, we loaded her into the back of the van. We didn’t see Marsha again. If I had, I think I would have punched her, to knock some sense into her. And I’m not sure I would’ve been able to stop. My sympathy for her had been spent. Maybe she knew that and that’s why she stayed out of our way. Or maybe she was out looking for Amelia, maybe even completely forgetting we were ever there.
Early evening darkness had closed in on us as we drove away from the cottage. I sat up front with Misfit. I glanced behind me to see Kay on her knees beside Charlotte’s still frame. Kay’s body swayed with the motion of the van. She had one of Charlotte’s hands in hers and with the other she stroked the hair from her pale face. As I watched, she shot a look up to me and caught my eye. I could see the tracks of her tears even in the faded light.
We drove on. I didn’t know if Misfit knew where he was going, it was too dark to read street signs, or if his intention was just to drive – just to put as much distance as possible between us and losing Clay. We hadn’t known him long, but, and I’ve said this before, bonds built in the zombie apocalypse are stronger and deeper than before. Clay had become, in the short time I knew him, my family.
‘Guys.’ I turned to look at Kay. ‘Stop the van,’ she said.
Misfit hit the brake. I had already begun to slide myself through the seats and into the back. Misfit followed me and the two of us stood looking down at Charlotte.
‘She’s gone,’ said Kay, her fingers on Charlotte’s neck.
‘No,’ I said.
Kay’s body shook violently as she sobbed but I just stood there gazing down at my dead friend, numb, unable to feel anything. Misfit placed an arm around my waist and pulled me to him. I glanced at him and saw his tears but still I couldn’t react. I looked down at Charlotte again. She was there, right in front of me. She’d been alive – walking, talking, calling everyone sweetie, just a short time ago. She had been a ray of light in a crappy, shitty darkness for so long and now she had been snubbed out. Bright, positive, beautiful, strong, brave, gentle – now nothing.
Not Charlotte. Not her. My eyes stung and my vision clouded as the first wave of tears erupted. I sniffed as my nose began to run, and I held my breath, wanting to hold it all in. But it was no use. I slipped from Misfit’s grasp and fell onto my knees onto the laminate floor and I cried. Salt tears and snot mixed but I let them flow.
I cried until empty and I settled back into comfortable numbness. We each remained silent and still for a while – how long, I don’t know. Time has little meaning in moments of grief. There is just light and dark. It was still dark outside so I guessed our sorrow was a way off from bleeding into a new day.
‘What do we do now?’ I asked.
‘We can’t leave her in here with us and we can’t just leave her out there,’ said Kay. ‘We can’t leave her to rot out there with the zombies. She was never one of them.’
‘We should bury her,’ I said.
‘We could build a bonfire,’ said Misfit. ‘Give her a blazing send off.’
I stood and took a peek out of the window. I couldn’t see well in the dark but I could see enough to tell we had stopped next to a field – it seemed that’s all there was in this part of the world, roads that ran through flat, never ending fields. I wondered where we would get wood to build a fire but I spotted a crop of trees to the left and the fence around the field was made of wood, aged and rough. I hoped it wasn’t too wet from the recent storms.
I needn’t have worried; Misfit proved an expert at getting even the most stubborn of fires started. Soon the massive pile of wood we’d gathered was roaring. Charlotte’s body had already been placed on top before Misfit lit the pyre with my lighter – funny, I only just realised at that moment that I hadn’t had a cigarette since leaving Folkestone and I didn’t want one either. The thought made me feel sick. We stood in the damp, overgrown field beside the road and watched as the flames consumed our friend – our heroic friend – and kept her from the jaws of the zombies.
I pressed myself into Misfit’s side and he wrapped his arm around me.
‘Goodbye, Charlotte,’ I said.
‘Goodbye, Clay, added Misfit.
‘Bloody bastards, bailing out on us,’ said Kay, her voice cracking.
We knew the flames would attract zombies, so after a few more moments, after we said our farewells, we climbed back into the camper van. Misfit drove a safe distance away and stopped so we could all get some much needed rest. Just the three of us left. As I lay in the back of the van my dead friends played a roll call in my head until I finally drifted off in Misfit’s arms.
At first light, we set off. No one spoke. In little over an hour, we arrived in Wales. As we crossed the River Wye on the Severn Bridge, heading towards the cottage in Devauden, a pang of renewed sadness hit my numbed insides. It was in the nearby town of Chepstow that we found Charlotte. She had been standing on a ledge outside a department store, looking like she intended to throw herself off and into the crowd of zombies below. But, when it came down to it – when we had been pursued by zombies as we attempted t
o rescue her – she had chosen to come with me, Kay and Liam instead.
By the time we arrived at the cottage, it had started to rain lightly. Misfit, who had been following my directions, having not been to Devauden before, drove through the gate and parked as close to the back door as he could get. I climbed down from the van and stood gazing at the innocuous looking little building, quaint and picturesque as any country abode. The rain, little more than a drizzle, was cold against the skin on my face and had already began to make my overgrown fringe stick to my forehead. I ran a hand through the front of my hair and pushed it out of my face. I glanced around for any sight of Zombie-Shelby but, seeing nothing, I sighed and I headed to the back door.
It was shut but, as I tried the handle, I discovered it wasn’t locked. I couldn’t remember how we left it. We’d left in a hurry and wouldn’t have locked up but had the last person closed the door? A waft of stale, sickly sweet but acrid air hit me as I stepped inside. My stomach flipped out on me like a toddler having a tantrum because it wanted sweets before dinner but was only offered carrot sticks so as not to spoil its appetite – I knew that we had left Toby’s body laying on the floor after Sam smashed his head to mush when Toby tried to shoot me, and I feared seeing it. Toby blamed me for him getting bitten by Zombie-Shelby and for his mate Dan getting shot (not that I wasn’t to blame to be honest). I guessed his remains were where the sweet, tangy smell of death emanated from.
Blog of the Dead (Book 3): Lost Page 18
