by David Moody
‘That’s not good news,’ he muttered. ‘I’ve been stuck here waiting and I haven’t been able to do anything. My telephone’s not working and the electricity’s been cut off and…’
‘Philip,’ Michael interrupted, ‘just listen to me for a minute. Whatever happened here has happened right across the country as far as we know. Just about everyone is dead…’
‘I’ve seen some people,’ the little man whittered, not listening, ‘but they’re not right. They come when they hear me, but they’re sick. They bang on the door for hours trying to get inside but I just lock it and sit in the back room until they go.’
‘We think you should come with us,’ Michael continued. ‘We’re living in a farm house a few miles from here and we both think it would be better for you if you were to…’
Philip still wasn’t listening.
‘Do you know what makes them act like that? I really don’t like it. Mother’s not well and it upsets her when I tell her that…’
‘Your mother’s here as well?’ Emma asked.
‘Of course she is,’ he replied.
‘She can come with us,’ Michael offered. ‘We should get your things together and get out of here as quickly as we can.’
‘She won’t like leaving,’ Philip mumbled, ‘she’s lived here since she and Dad got married.’
‘Maybe you’ll be able to come back,’ Emma said, sensing that Michael was keen to get moving and doing her best to sensitively persuade Philip to leave.
Philip thought for a moment and then nodded.
‘You’re right,’ he finally said. ‘It’s probably for the best if we all stick together. I’ll go and tell Mum.’
With that he turned and walked towards a door in the corner of the room. Beyond the door was a narrow, twisting staircase which he began to climb. Emma instinctively followed but Michael stopped her.
‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.
‘Let me go first.’
Philip was already at the top of the stairs waiting breathlessly. As Michael approached he lifted a single finger to his chapped lips.
‘Be quiet please,’ he whispered. ‘Mum’s found all of this a little hard to deal with and I don’t want to frighten her. She’s very old and she’s not been well these last few months.’
Michael nodded and managed a half-smile despite the fact that the air at the top of the stairs was rancid and he could clearly hear the ominous humming of germ-carrying flies close nearby.
Philip pushed the door open slightly and stuck his head into his mother’s room. He stopped and turned back to face the other two.
‘Give me a minute with her, will you?’ he asked.
He disappeared into the room and pushed the door shut behind him but Michael followed immediately. Philip didn’t notice.
‘Mum,’ he said softly as he crouched down at the side of the bed. ‘Mum, there are some people here who can help us. We’re going to go back with them for a few days until things settle down again.’
Michael stood a short distance behind Philip. Emma cautiously entered the room and walked over to stand next to him. He leant down and grabbed hold of her arm. With tension and fear obvious in his voice he hissed at her to quickly go back downstairs.
‘Why?’ she quietly asked. She took a single step forward to get a better view of Philip’s mother and then covered her mouth with horror and disgust. Mrs Evans’ skin was discoloured and decayed, her hair lank and greasy. Flies buzzed around her decomposing flesh and were feeding on her constantly writhing body. Michael walked up to the bed and pulled back the soiled sheets which covered the old lady. Ignoring Philip’s protestations he stared down at her emaciated body. She was tied to the bed with strong ropes which were stretched tight across her stained night-dress. She’d been dead since the first morning.
‘I had to tie her down,’ Philip stammered anxiously. ‘She wouldn’t stay in bed. When the doctor saw her last he said she had to stay in bed until she was better…’
‘Philip,’ he sighed, ‘your mum’s dead.’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ the little man scoffed, laughing with disbelief. ‘How can she be dead? She’s not well, that’s all. Bloody hell, how can she be dead you daft bugger?’
‘This has happened to millions of people, Philip,’ Emma said, fighting to keep control of her nerves and her stomach. ‘I know it sounds crazy, but most of the people who…’
‘Dead people can’t move,’ he shouted, resting his hand on his mother’s shoulder. ‘How can she be dead if she’s moving? Answer me that?’
‘Living people don’t rot,’ Michael replied. ‘Now your choice is simple, either come with us now and leave her here, or you both stay.’
‘I can’t go without Mum,’ he wailed. ‘I can’t leave her here on her own, can I?’
Michael took hold of Emma’s arm and gently pushed her back towards the stairs.
‘Wait for me by the front door,’ he said quickly. ‘I’ll be down in a couple of seconds.’
He turned back to try and reason with Philip.
‘Come on, just accept it will you?’ he began. ‘Your mother is dead. She might still be moving, but she’s as good as dead. She’s the same as those other people you’ve seen outside.’
Emma listened anxiously as she crept back down the stairs. She waited on the bottom step for Michael.
‘What are you going to do if you stay here?’ he continued. ‘You probably haven’t got much food or drink and your health is suffering. We’re your best chance, Philip. Get your stuff together and come with us.’
‘Not without Mum. I can’t leave without her.’
Michael shook his head dejectedly.
‘No,’ he said simply.
Without any warning something inside Philip snapped. In a fraction of a second the meek little man became an uncontrolled animal. His fears and frustrations bottled up since the nightmare had begun, he suddenly exploded with fury and savage emotion, lunging at Michael and sending him flying across the bedroom. Surprised by the force and the violence of the unexpected attack, Michael lost his balance and tripped backwards through the doorway. With Philip desperately holding onto him, the two men tumbled down the stairs and came to rest in a heap at Emma’s feet.
‘Get back to the car!’ Michael yelled as he struggled to hold the other man down. ‘Get the fucking engine started!’
Despite having the speed and intentions of a man possessed, Philip was weak and slight of stature and it didn’t take much effort on Michael’s part to overpower him. He wrenched him around and grasped his scrawny neck in a dangerously tight headlock. He dragged Philip towards the front door of the cottage, ignoring his pitiful, wheezing cries.
There were three bodies in the road between the car and the van. Emma ran past them and climbed into the car and started the engine. The corpses – joined by more from the shadows nearby – began to crowd around her. She struggled to see between them and waited anxiously for Michael to appear.
More bodies were reacting to the sounds of the struggle inside the building and were heading towards the cottage. Emma accelerated, hoping that the sound of the car’s engine would distract them and give Michael and Philip a chance to get out. A couple of stumbling figures turned around awkwardly and staggered towards the car. An equal number continued to move closer to the house.
Michael looked up and saw that there were corpses in the doorway. Philip, sensing that he had been distracted momentarily, managed to squirm free. He took a few steps away from Michael and wiped tears from his eyes, oblivious to the danger of the approaching cadavers.
‘Why can’t I bring her with me?’ he pleaded, still refusing to accept the bitter truth.
Michael grabbed hold of his arm to pull him out of the house but he recoiled and managed to twist himself free again. A body reached out and grabbed hold of Philip’s shoulders. Another caught hold of one of his legs. Terrified, he began to kick and scream.
‘Get them off me!’ he yelled. ‘Please, get them o
ff!’
Michael tore the creatures away from him and pushed them back out into the street. He looked up and saw that there were about twenty figures around Emma’s car and he could see her panicked face staring back at him through the glass. He knew that he had to make a choice and he had to make it immediately. Keep trying to persuade Philip to leave without his mother or just leave without either of them. He glanced back at the pathetic shell of a man who stood in the middle of his living room, whimpering and snivelling.
The decision was made.
Michael ran out through the doorway, pushing bodies to the side, and pausing only to pull the door shut behind him hoping to give Philip something of a chance. He fought his way through the ragged crowd and climbed into the Landrover and started the engine. From where he sat all that he could see was a mass of grotesque, decaying faces staring back at him. He gave a couple of short blasts on the horn and, when Emma did the same in reply, he pushed down on the accelerator and moved away. The decomposing bodies offered hardly any resistance.
He watched in the mirror until he was sure that Emma was following and then put his foot down.
42
Seven miles to Penn Farm.
The maze of twisting country lanes which surrounded the farm and connected it to the numerous villages and small towns nearby was confusing and disorientating. Michael found it hard to keep concentrating because he was preoccupied with other thoughts. Had he done the right thing in leaving Philip behind or should he have made more of an effort to drag him away from his home? He knew that the poor confused soul wouldn’t have abandoned his dead mother without a lot more persuasion, and he also knew that they hadn’t had the luxury of having time to argue. When it came to it the decision had been a pretty clear cut choice between Emma and Philip. He couldn’t stand the thought of risking Emma’s safety for even a second, but at the same time he felt wracked with guilt when he remembered the pathetic, frightened little man he’d left quivering alone in the stagnant surroundings of his dead mother’s house.
A short while earlier in the car park, in those few precious seconds when he had stood out in the open next to Emma, he had allowed himself to feel a faint flicker of optimism. Momentarily they seemed to have been miles away from the close confines of the farmhouse and the wandering bodies. He had felt strong and safe as he had breathed in deep gulps of cold, sea air. But reality had returned with a vengeance. Now an all too common feeling of claustrophobic despair had returned.
A T-junction in the road appeared. It looked familiar and Michael sensed that they were finally heading in the right direction. Then a signpost he had seen before, soon followed by the rusting wreck of a blue estate car which he remembered having seen crashed into the base of an old oak tree. Without a doubt they were at last on the road that would lead them back to the farmhouse.
Driving back along the same road towards the farm but approaching it from the opposite direction was Carl. Feeling numb and weak with nerves and with every muscle in his body aching with heavy tiredness and a deadly fatigue, he glanced down at the motorbike’s controls. He was still travelling at a reckless speed, but he didn’t dare slow down as the needle on the fuel gauge had dropped to the lowest possible level. He hadn’t planned on making two long trips on the same tank of petrol. Now little more than fumes remained in the tank.
Forcing himself to keep going, he swerved around another one of the wandering bodies and increased his speed still further. The body span around and grabbed at the carbon monoxide-filled air where the bike had just been.
With less than three miles to go Michael’s nervousness increased. He felt a constant and very real fear in the back of his mind whenever they were away that something might have happened to the farmhouse. If the gate or any other part of the barrier had collapsed then their home could well be surrounded by scores of relentless, decomposing corpses. Although there was still a way to go, he began instinctively to search for the turning which led to the track running from the road to the house. It was on their left somewhere, but he knew it would be difficult to see from the angle they would be approaching at.
They rushed past the trees, bushes and buildings lining the sides of the roads at a dangerous speed but neither Michael or Emma cared. Both were individually content to risk a degree of safety to get back home in the shortest possible time.
Carl was almost there.
Just a couple of hundred yards remained between him and the turning onto the track to the farm. He too searched constantly for the elusive junction. There were bodies all around him, stumbling onto the road in whichever direction he looked. Yet again the silence of the rest of the world seemed to have amplified out of all proportion every sound the motorbike made. Like a perverse Pied Piper a growing crowd of restless corpses followed him, attracted by the throaty roar of the powerful engine.
Carl’s heart sank as that same roar suddenly spluttered and died.
He was out of fuel. Damn close to the farmhouse, but not close enough.
As the bike freewheeled to a standstill he frantically tried to decide what to do. He quickly took off his helmet and threw it at the closest few bodies before dumping the bike and beginning to run. Exhausted, hot and tired he sprinted down the road and towards the track with what seemed like hundreds of corpses in close (but slow) pursuit and with more swarming around him from the trees and shadows surrounding. He was faintly aware of a low mechanical sound in the distance but he was too scared to stop. He had to keep moving. He reached the turning onto the track and began to sprint up the hill in the direction of the farmhouse.
At that moment the Landrover and car appeared, both still in close convoy and both out of sight of Carl. Disorientated and surprised by the unexpected appearance of so many bodies, Michael missed the turning. The sound of their vehicles had attracted plenty of cadavers along the way, but why were so many of them here now? Had their collective interest been aroused by the noise from the Landrover when they’d first left Penn Farm earlier that morning?
Emma flashed her headlamps at Michael and gave a blast on the horn, not sure if he knew he’d passed the turning onto the track. Furious for allowing himself to be distracted by the crowds, he braked hard and tried to turn around. The road was infuriatingly narrow and his frantic three point turn took many more turns than it should have done. Each time he reversed or drove forward more and more of the shambling creatures were dragged under the wheels of the Landrover.
Emma smashed through the rotting crowd and accelerated up the hill back towards the house. The rough track seemed worse than ever – the wheels of the car were smaller and less forgiving than the larger wheels of the van and Landrover. Each dip and trough of the uneven ground caused her to lurch forward in her seat and rattled her to the core. Weak and defenceless bodies were thrown to the side but there seemed to be still more and more of them further ahead. She accelerated again and managed a momentary glance into the rear view mirror. Michael was on his way up the track close behind her.
Carl was managing to outrun the bodies. Now that he had ditched the motorbike the sound he made was greatly reduced, and in turn that reduced his attraction to the ragged corpses all around him. But he was tiring fast. The air was dry and he had a painful stitch which he tried unsuccessfully to breathe through. He knew that he could not afford to stop but at the same time he was beginning to have real difficulty in keeping going. For a second he could hear the noise he’d heard at the bottom of the track again, and this time he realised that its volume was steadily increasing. The corpses dragging themselves up the hill towards him gradually broke off their pursuit and began to stumble back down again, distracted by this new sound. Carl looked over his shoulder and then turned back to look ahead again. In the near distance he could see the gate and the barrier and, just beyond that, Penn Farm.
Without warning Emma’s car appeared with Michael in the Landrover close behind. Carl span around and could hardly believe what he was seeing. He stood in the middle of the track waving his a
rms and yelling out loud, desperately hoping to attract the attention of one of the survivors. Emma noticed him, but at the same time three close shadowy figures also heard his anxious cries and threw themselves at him. They dragged him down to the ground where he kicked and punched and struggled to pick himself up. With an instinctive venom and anger, the creatures ripped at his flesh with vicious, twisted fingers.
Emma slammed on the brakes and jumped out of the car. Michael pulled up close behind (the track was too narrow to pull up alongside Emma) and ran to Carl’s side.
‘Fucking hell, it’s Carl,’ he shouted as he grabbed hold of the first of the three bodies and threw it to one side. ‘Where did he appear from?’
Emma took hold of another cadaver’s shoulders and wrenched it away from the man on the ground. Michael kicked the last one away and then helped Emma to get Carl into the car. Already they were being surrounded by hundreds of diseased figures.
‘Get back to the house,’ he screamed as he bundled Carl into the back of the car and pushed Emma into the front. Before he had even closed the door she had accelerated away again and was careering down the final incline towards the gate spanning the stone bridge.
Michael shoulder charged his way back through the sickly throng to the Landrover and managed to force his way back into the driver’s seat. He slammed and locked the door and then looked up and down the track. More and more bodies were converging on the road ahead. The frequent noise from the house over the last day or two must have attracted them. Perhaps their brains were beginning to function with more clarity and reason than before? Maybe these hundreds of corpses had actually stayed close to the farm and laid in wait because they knew that the survivors had been hiding in there? And now the combined noise from the bike, the Landrover and the car that Emma was driving seemed to have brought every last one of them out into the open.
He put the Landrover into gear and drove forwards, obliterating any of the corpses that foolishly remained in his way. But there were literally hundreds of them now, maybe even more than a thousand. He noticed that Emma had stopped a little way short of the gate and already her car was being swamped by ragged figures. Why didn’t she open the gate and go through? Cruel realisation suddenly dawned. He had the keys.
