I Dream of Zombies

by Johnstone, Vickie

  She leaned back in her seat and stared out the passenger window. “Great.”

  “Some guy over there has collapsed. Look, there on the pavement. It’s getting worse by the minute,” Tommy mumbled as he turned down the next road. Three more streets and he was home. “I’m going to hate leaving this place, but I think up north is a better option. You?”

  “Mmm, I was thinking about going back to my mum’s in Cornwall.”

  “Have you called Peter?” he asked.

  Marla shook her head. “No, I guess I should. I need to do something about the flat.”

  “He’s texted me a few times, asking questions. I blew him off for your sake.”

  “Cheers for that.”

  Did you tell him about the dreams?”

  “No, because he didn’t believe Ellen’s or the guy on the television, so I didn’t fancy being laughed at.”

  Tommy turned off the engine and leaned back in his seat for a moment. Marla expected him to say something, but he just sighed and got out of the car. She followed him inside the house. As they reached the top of the stairs, Ellen poked her head out of her room and asked, “How did it go?”

  “No problem,” said Tommy. “Nothing weird.”

  “Cool,” she replied, smiling. “I was reading and just chilling out, and I rang Mum to tell her that we’re okay. I think she was worrying.”

  Marla smiled. “Thanks.”

  “The news was crazy though,” Ellen added. “More attacks reported. They still say there’s a flu epidemic and the murders are unrelated. There’s a big demo going on in Trafalgar Square and another group are going to march on Downing Street. People are demanding to know what’s going on and protesting against a curfew. There’s even looting – windows smashed and people vandalising buildings.”

  “That must be what my mate was texting me about,” Tommy guessed.

  “It was bound to happen. They can’t just tell people what to do with no explanation,” said Marla, crossing her arms over her chest. “Fancy a cuppa, sis?”

  “Sure, I’ll make it,” Ellen offered. “Tea, coffee, juice?”

  “A beer,” said Marla with a grin. “I figure I deserve one.”

  Tommy raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

  “For braving the supermarket after my last visit. I think I should get an award just for that.”

  “Okay, you sit down and I’ll put the shopping away,” offered Tommy, taking the bags from her hands. “I’ll head out and get the rest from the boot.”

  Marla grinned. “Cheers, Tommy. You’re a star.”

  “You stocked up,” remarked Ellen.

  “I’m not taking any chances,” he replied. “I need to visit my son tomorrow. First stop, and then up to see my folks in Scotland. Quick round trip and I’ll be back down here, and we can see how things are then.”

  “What’s Marla’s plan?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Not sure. Best ask her.”

  ***

  Marla gazed at her mobile phone for a few minutes before taking a deep breath and dialling his number.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Peter, it’s me, Marla.”

  “Where the hell are you?” he asked. “I read your note, but it didn’t say when you were coming back or where you are now.”

  “I’m sorry. Look, I’ve been a bit stressed… erm, I wanted to speak to you about something important. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I didn’t really know how to say it.”

  “Right,” he replied, his tone flattening. “So what is it, exactly?”

  “Us,” she answered.

  “Us? Uh-huh?”

  “Yes, I don’t think ‘us’ is really working anymore… as erm, ah, well, you know, a couple,” she said, stumbling over her words.

  “I agree,” he snapped.

  Marla blinked, taken aback. “Oh.” She stared at the ceiling for a second and back down at the floor again. “Oh. I see.”

  “Yes, I totally agree with you. I’ve been meaning to speak to you about this for months actually.”

  It was her turn to sound surprised: “Really? Oh.”

  “Yes, you see I’ve been seeing a woman from work…”

  She breathed in. “A woman?”

  “Yes.”

  “From work?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh. Who?”

  “Does it matter?” Peter asked.

  Marla thought about it for a second and although she was shocked, he was right, it really was of no consequence, but then she was still curious. “Yes. How long have you… erm been seeing her?”

  “About five months,” he answered. “Well, maybe a little longer. Karen started working in my department about six months ago.”

  “Oh.”

  Everything clicked into place. From Marla’s point of view, the relationship had been gradually sinking over that period of time, although if she were to be completely honest, things had not been great for a year, but she had chosen to ignore it. That explains why he had not been interested in anything in the sex department for a very long time, Marla pondered.

  “Oh,” she said again, glancing at her left hand.

  “Is that all you have to say?” Peter asked. “Do you want to know anything else about her?”

  Marla coughed. “Not really.” Her pride was hurt, even though it should not have been as she had wanted to break up with him, she reasoned, but the realisation that he had deceived her for such a long time made her feel nauseous. “You should have told me.”

  “I know,” he mumbled, and for a second she pictured him as a dog with its tail between its legs, knowing it had just peed on the carpet in front of its owner. “But I couldn’t help myself,” he added.

  That is just the most ridiculous excuse! Marla laughed, but it was a hollow sound, and she leaned back against the wall. “So, I guess we’re on the same page at least. I want out and you want out.”

  “It appears so,” Peter agreed. “What do we do now?”

  “Well, I wish you’d told me you were shagging someone at work. I might have wanted to have an affair myself! Instead I’ve been walking around feeling guilty for months on end because I didn’t want to hurt you! Even though you’ve been acting a bit of an arse.”

  “Sorry, I guess these things happen.”

  “These things happen?” she asked, a bit louder than she intended. “These things happen? Well, I can tell you what isn’t happening and that’s you staying in my flat any longer.”

  There was silence on the end of the phone.

  “Peter…?”

  “What do you mean?” he muttered, his voice sounding shaky.

  “I’d like you to leave,” Marla said calmly. “I’d like you to pack everything that you own and please leave. Today if you will. I have my key, so please just throw yours through the letterbox as you go.”

  Peter coughed. “But where am I supposed to live?” he demanded angrily.

  She sighed. “That isn’t my problem. There are hotels. We both know you earn a packet. And then you could always stay with your bit on the side…”

  “I see,” he said. “You’re jealous.”

  Marla laughed, unable to believe her ears. “No, I’m not jealous, I’m just relieved. I feel really relieved. It surprises me, but I really, really am. I’m free and I’ve no reason to feel guilty anymore. You’ve kind of made my day.”

  Peter went completely quiet.

  “Well, I’m going to go now, Peter, so it would be great if you could leave tonight before I’m back tomorrow. Have a nice day. Bye.”

  Marla hung up and stretched both arms in the air, feeling as if a massive weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

  Saturday, 25

  At the crack of dawn, Tommy packed his stuff into the back of his car and drove off towards Birmingham. Not one for goodbyes, even temporary ones, he simply left a short, scribbled note in the kitchen. The roads seemed busier than usual, as if many people had the same idea: get out of London and fast. Sitt
ing in yet another traffic jam, Tommy drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and turned on the radio. Switching channels, he grimaced as yet another sad driver hooted his horn behind him. What is the point, man? Tommy hadn’t got anywhere near the M25, yet it seemed as though he had been on the road for hours. Hitting a dance music station, he scowled until he found some classic rock.

  Leaning back in his seat, he glanced outside. Some people were going about their business, heading to work as usual, except for the drivers who were not going anywhere it seemed. But there were noticeably fewer pedestrians. He guessed that many had taken their holidays and were leaving the city, if they had not done so already. Tommy checked his mobile phone for messages, but found none, so he drummed his fingers again before blowing air out of his mouth and seeing if it would flick up his hair in the process. Boredom did not begin to cover it. Traffic jams sucked, especially when you were in a hurry to get some place.

  A rapping sound on the glass behind him caught Tommy’s attention and he glanced over his shoulder. Hands trailed along the back window and they were red. Is that paint? Screams filled the air outside and Tommy saw a woman in a suit charge down the street, dropping her briefcase and not bothering to pick it up. He jumped as the hands banged on the window again and then disappeared from sight. Feeling slightly freaked out, he pondered whether to get out of the car and see who was there, to find out if they were hurt, but he remembered the video of the supermarket and he suddenly lost any confidence in doing so. He stayed put, but turned off the radio. The hands did not rise again.

  The line of cars ahead began to move. “At last,” he said and put his foot down. The car lurched a bit and then he was driving smoothly until the vehicles paused again after a ten-minute sprint. What’s the problem? Tommy glanced in the rear-view mirror and studied the guy in the car behind, who looked seriously stressed out. Two kids were play-fighting in the back. Tommy looked forward again. He had a funny feeling that he was going to be stuck here all day. A noise from above made him peer out of his side window. Unable to see anything, he opened it and craned his head out. Helicopters: two of them. That was odd. He had never seen more than one in the air at once in all the time he’d lived in London.

  A screech made him turn his head. Along the pavement an elderly man was running, followed by a woman of the same age, but she could not move as fast. Behind them was yet another man, but he was too far away to see his face clearly. The woman was screaming in terror and the guy was so pale that he looked like he’d seen a ghost. Then Tommy saw the person who was following. Freakish was the word that shot into his mind. Whoever it was wasn’t running straight, like normal, but lurching from side to side heavily, yet not slow on his feet. Something red dripped from his mouth.

  Without thinking twice, Tommy unlocked the doors. “Get in the back,” he shouted to the couple, aware that no one else in the queue of cars had offered. Perhaps they were in shock, he surmised, or just plain mean. The elderly man glanced his way and his eyes grew wide. He paused and grasped the hand of the woman, and almost dragged her towards the car. The freak was gaining ground. Tommy turned around, leaned across the back seat and pushed the door open. With trembling hands, the stranger gripped the door and held it for the woman as she slid inside. Quickly, without turning, the man jumped in and slammed it shut.

  Tommy locked the doors instinctively before turning around. “Are you alright?” he asked. The woman could not talk because she was breathing so hard. Tommy realised she was older than he first thought, probably sixty.

  “Thank you,” said the man. “We owe you our lives. I just saw him kill someone. He was biting another man. It was terrible...” His voice broke off into silence.

  “Ugh!” Tommy cried out as the freak banged on the passenger door window, glaring at the couple who looked terrified. He hit the button to close his own window as the thing staggered towards him. It wasn’t a man; it couldn’t be. It resembled a corpse in every aspect, except that it was moving and breathing, and clearly wanting to attack them. The window sealed and the bloody face pressed itself against the glass. One eye stared out of a misshapen face, most of which was gone. The empty socket stared back at him and blood spilled from the gap that was once a mouth. Tommy stared into the chasm and then dragged his eyes away.

  “What is going on?” he asked, turning around in his seat to face the couple.

  The woman was trembling. “The dead come back to life,” she said. “I saw it.”

  “But that’s impossible,” Tommy argued.

  “It’s real. It’s there, right beside you,” said the man, speaking in a tone of calm that was surreal. “He used to be my neighbour. Now look at him.”

  “You know him?”

  “Knew,” the man corrected. “I don’t know what he is now. He doesn’t recognise me. It’s as if he’s acting on instinct, like an animal, and he hunted us.”

  Tommy turned around and slumped in his seat. The bloody face was still staring at him with its arms spread wide against the glass. A deafening shot made him jump and the freak disappeared. “What the hell?” he gasped, looking in front of him. A mounted policeman on horseback gestured to two soldiers who walked to the side of the car, hauled the body on to the pavement and dumped it unceremoniously by the side of an office building.

  As Tommy stared in disbelief, one of the soldiers walked back and gestured for him to open the window. He did it. Removing his sunglasses, the man asked, “Are you all alright?”

  Tommy nodded. “What is going on?”

  “We’re trying to get people to turn back. London has been sealed off – quarantined. We can’t let anyone leave and we can’t let anyone in either.”

  “What? I have to leave. I’ve got to reach my family...”

  “I’m sorry. We have orders from the government. If you could turn your car around and go back home, sir, it would help a lot. We’re going to start making announcements soon and you will be safer inside your home.”

  “But why?” asked Tommy.

  “You’ve just seen why. The city is quarantined,” the soldier repeated, tapping the gun that hung from his belt.

  Tommy saw there was no point in arguing and closed the window. He picked up his mobile to call his ex-wife and then thought better of it. She would still be sleeping. It was going to be a difficult enough phone call without stressing her out by waking her as well. “Where do you live?” he asked, turning to his passengers.

  “Not far. Just a ten-minute drive back the other way,” said the man.

  “Can you direct me?”

  “Sure,” he replied. “Thank you. I don’t know what we...”

  “Don’t think of it,” said Tommy. “Best not to.”

  He waited until the car in front moved forward, enabling him to make a tight right-hand turn out of the queue of traffic, before heading back in the adjacent line. Three helicopters hovered in the sky ahead. That made five. Behind him someone was talking into a loudspeaker: “London has been quarantined. You are advised to make your way home and stay inside. There will be an announcement on the news of measures to evacuate the city. Please go home. London has been sealed off by the army. Any protest or rioting will be dealt with. These are our orders from the government.”

  Tommy glanced in the rear-view mirror. Several cars turned around straight away while some drivers were stepping out of theirs to argue. Soldiers stepped forward, accompanied by armed police and officers on horseback. He glanced at his companions. “Do you know what happened to your neighbour?”

  The woman looked away and stared out of the window. “He changed after he was bitten,” the man answered. “You need to turn right here.”

  Tommy blinked. “Bitten?”

  “Yes. He was bitten by a woman in the street one night. We heard him shouting and came out. Left here... The woman ran off, luckily. I realise now I was really lucky. I have no idea why she ran. Maybe it was my torch or a noise. Who knows,” said the man.

  “Did you ring the police?”


  “Yes, they showed up real fast. They told me to take my neighbour to the hospital, so we did. They bandaged up the wound and sent him home. You just go straight here as far as you can go. Anyway, he seemed fine, but then he got this fever and couldn’t sleep. When we checked the bandage to see if there was a problem, I couldn’t see anything wrong. They had stitched it up in the hospital. Looked fine to me,” the man remembered.

  “I offered to take him back there to see the doctors, but he wouldn’t move and I couldn’t move him. He said he felt hot and sick – asked for painkillers and water. Ah, please take a right here. Then, God help me, I left him there and went back to my own house. In the morning I knocked on his door, but there was no answer. I thought he’d gone out, that he was fine, you know. Then, today, well it was earlier, so it was still dark, I heard these noises... Oh, please stop here. That’s great. We live just there,” he said, pointing to an attractive looking house with a well-tended garden.

  Tommy wanted to compliment the couple on their home, but it seemed inappropriate under the circumstances. “What happened next?” he asked. He could tell that the woman wanted to get out of the car, but she wasn’t daring to do it alone.

  The man shrugged. “It got weird from there. I told Annie here that I was going to check on our neighbour. I could hear these strange cries, you see. Well, she didn’t let me go alone. She came with me.”

  “Did you have any protection with you?”

  “No, but Annie had her rolling pin,” he replied, raising his eyebrows. “I knocked at the door and there was no answer, but I could hear these God awful moans and groans, so I called the police. While I was talking the door opened and he came out, only it wasn’t really him. I said his name and he didn’t recognise me. His eyes…” He paused and sucked in his breath. “His eyes were lifeless. He looked dead, believe me, but he wasn’t.”

  “Oh, I do believe you. I’ve seen it – on a video. My friend saw it in person.”

  “I feel sorry for her,” the man continued. “We panicked then. He tried to attack us and we panicked. We should have just run back into the house, but I fumbled with my keys and dropped them, and we just ran. But we couldn’t outrun him. It took him a while to come after us, as if he’d woken from a sleep or something, and he stumbled. He didn’t run straight like you’d expect someone of his age to do. I knew it wasn’t him. It was like he was in a trance and he followed us. I got the feeling he was on our scent, like he could smell us or something and hear us, because we lost him for a while, yet he caught up. No one opened their car door for us. If it wasn’t for you...”