by RR Haywood
‘NO. You had no fucking right.’
‘Easy, Nick,’ Clarence says.
‘None of you…get off me…get the fuck off me,’ he scrabbles free, pushing himself past Clarence with legs that tremble and hands shaking as he tries to rise up onto his feet, ‘GET OFF ME,’ he screams at Clarence yanking his arm free, ‘none of you had that right…’ On his feet he backs away with his hands pushing through his hair smearing blood over his cheeks and forehead, ‘my life…it’s my life…MY LIFE,’ he screams at us, ‘YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO DO THAT.’
‘You fucking dick,’ Blowers on his feet with his fists clenched.
‘Fuck you,’ Nick rages at him, ‘none of you had the right to do that,’ he points a shaking hand at Blowers.
‘Get fucked you twat,’ Blowers snaps, ‘we got every fucking right…’
‘Like fuck you do,’ Nick rages with spittle flying from his mouth and his arms smeared with blood, ‘you had no right…Mr Howie had no fucking right…’
‘Mr Howie has every fucking right…’
‘NOBODY HAS THAT RIGHT. Nobody has the right to do that…not Mr Howie…not Clarence…not Marcy or you or Cookey or nobody…’
‘Oh we fucking do,’ Blowers growls the words out.
‘You ain’t gods…you ain’t in charge of my life and and…Mr Howie can’t fucking do that…’
‘Don’t you fucking say that!’
‘I AM SAYING IT…MR HOWIE DIDN’T HAVE THE FUCKING RIGHT…’
‘Mr Howie has got every right you fucking twat…’
‘NO,’ Nick screams as I start to rise but find a soft hand squeezing my arm and pulling me back down and Marcy shaking her head softly.
‘He does and we do,’ Blowers says, ‘we do cos we been with you since this fucking started and if we have earned that fucking right…’
‘No…’
‘Shut the fuck up,’ Blowers shouts him down with a rare passion, ‘you’ve saved me, Nick, and Cookey and Lani and Paula and everyone else…none of us would fucking be here if not for you and you wouldn’t be here if not for us…we’ve all dug each other out the shit hundreds of times…and Clarence, Dave and Mr Howie have done it more than all the rest of us together so that does give them the fucking right…it gives all of us the right…if one of them things was about to get me you’d stop ‘em and if that meant you getting bit instead of me then you’d still do it and that’s the same thing…and you know, you fucking know that every one of us would do it for you which is why we’re still here and doing this so yeah, fucking yeah…it’s your life but your life is in our fucking hands the same as mine is in yours…that’s what family do,’ he stops to draw a breath and spits to the side, ‘that’s what family do, Nick. See,’ he holds his blood soaked hands up, ‘we put our fucking blood in you…and when the next one gets cut or bit you’ll be doing it…’
Nick stares at the hands then across to Cookey holding his out and Marcy showing hers and finally me with my own still bleeding.
‘We’re all connected and fuck knows why,’ Blowers goes on with words that have clearly built up and explode out with his own release of tension and fear, ‘you’re immune…I’m immune….Cookey and Mr Howie…Why? Why the fuck are we special? I ain’t special? I’m a dumb fucking twat and I know for fact that Cookey is a dumb fucking twat and sure as shit you are so why us? Why?’
‘I dunno,’ Nick says, quieter now and listening as do the rest of us.
‘No you don’t fucking know, and there’s only two fucking people that can figure that shit out and they’re sat right there with cut hands from trying to save you,’ he points back at me and Marcy, ‘you heard him? Did you? Did you hear him in your head?’
‘Yeah.’
‘We all did. We all heard it in here,’ he taps the front of his forehead, ‘but even Mr Howie, even with him being able to do that he can’t make this shit better out without Dave and Clarence and without us…all of us…Paula and Roy, Mo Mo, Charlie…Blinky…Meredith…you think this is some random shit going on? This is not random. There is a reason except we don’t know what it is…’
The anger abates, the fear at facing his own death that brought the righteous shock and the explosion of rage that made Nick stagger back and away with an instinctive but flawed repulsion of the love we have for him. The hardened expression eases, his hands shaking from the adrenalin wearing off and suddenly he looks young, lost, frightened and isolated by the short distance he has moved away.
Paula on her feet running towards him and she takes him into her arms pulling him tight as his head sinks down onto her shoulder sobbing and his bloodied arms cling hard.
‘It’s okay,’ she whispers stroking the back of his head, ‘it’s okay, I’m here…’
The raw emotion makes me look away and as I turn I see Roy staring hard with the knowledge on his face that Paula will never leave this group. She’s tied into us and as integral as Dave and what’s more, if I felt like Nick it would be Paula I’d want giving me that comfort too.
I stay kneeling on the ground staring at the glistening drops of blood and then over at the mangled corpse that dared touch one of us. I will kill them. All of them. I get to my feet and stare round at the hundreds of windows overlooking this spot and knowing it will be watching us, watching me. I hope it watches me. See me. I’ll come for you. All of you.
Twelve
‘Fuck me,’ Nick says coming back into the group as he tugs a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket, he goes to say something but just shrugs and lights the smoke before chucking the packet over to me.
‘Cheers,’ I take one out with bloodied fingers and light the end as the packet gets handed round and finally passed to Blowers who takes one and holds the pack out to Nick.
‘Such a dick,’ Blowers mutters blowing the smoke to the side.
‘Yeah, fuck you,’ Nick replies gently, ‘I’m immune,’ he says to himself then looks round with the hint of a smile forming at the corners of his mouth, ‘I’m immune.’
‘You’re a cock,’ Cookey says standing up.
‘You like cock,’ Nick says.
‘Oh he’s back,’ Cookey laughs, ‘had your tantrum yeah? Feeling better now?’
‘Much better,’ Nick grins, ‘ta.’
‘Er, sorry to point something out,’ Cookey says turning to face Blowers, ‘but where the fuck did that come from?’
‘What?’
‘That speech?’
‘What? It needed to be said…’
‘You wrote that.’
‘What?’
‘You fucking did, you wrote that and been practising it every night and waiting so you could say it and make everyone think you’re all deep and serious.’
‘Yeah, yeah I did that,’ Blowers says not bothering to rise to the bait.
‘Yep, doesn't even deny it,’ Cookey announces it, ‘good speech though fucktard.’
‘Cheers wankstain.’
‘Welcome buttmuncher.’
And the world moves on, or our world does anyway. We get up with sore knees and wash the blood from our hands, wincing as the water gets into the fresh cuts. Bottles are pulled from bags and drank down thirstily and more are used to pour over our faces and heads in a pathetic attempt to cool down for a few seconds.
Me, Clarence, Blowers and Cookey show no reaction to Nick’s outburst. Dave is just Dave and waits off to one side devoid of expression as ever. We’ve been together through so much now that nothing can damage our bond and anything said by Nick needed to be said, same with Blowers. No harm and no foul. Marcy is easy but then she’s seen and done so much now that I doubt anything will shock her. The others I notice are a bit awkward for a few minutes. Like they don’t know what to say or do and sometimes doing nothing is the best course of action to take.
The lads abuse each other and that humour soon spreads out until Blinky is throwing a few insults in and Cookey is telling everyone about pulling a face at Charlie who then tells everyone that she burst out laughing which made Reginald chan
ge the monitor view. Surprisingly, Roy is the first to congratulate Nick and offers his hand, one by one we all do it, apart from Paula and Marcy who give him a big hug.
Everything though, has an end and it doesn't take long before the sense of urgency to be moving and doing something starts tugging at me. Like a heroin addict needs a fix and I can’t ignore it.
‘Everyone okay?’ I ask at a natural break in the conversation which is just a polite way of asking if we can get on with doing what we came to do, ‘did you find out if the car was working?’
‘Er no,’ Nick says with a laugh, ‘got side-tracked, sorry about that.’
‘Paula, make a note please for Nick’s annual assessment.’
‘Noted,’ she says mock serious.
‘I tell you one thing,’ Clarence says, ‘that bloody dog adores you…I’ve never seen her go for anyone like that.’
‘Yeah?’ Nick asks, ‘I didn’t see…’
‘Fuck yeah,’ Cookey says, ‘she ripped it apart in like seconds…like shredded it…it’s over there.’
‘Fuck,’ Nick says turning round to look down at the body, ‘where’s its head?’
‘I just said, she shredded it apart,’ Cookey replies.
‘No way? She shredded the head?’
‘Yes! Like tearing it up and spitting the bits out…mind you, Clarence was breaking his legs at the time and Blowers was throat punching it and everyone else was kicking it in the ribs…oh and Dave sliced it up.’
‘Shit,’ Nick says with a wince, ‘cheers though.’
‘You got no right,’ Cookey mimics in a high pitched voice.
‘Fuck. Off. You. Twat,’ Nick says moving back to the now open door of the car and pausing to check through the windows before reaching in, ‘key in the ignition,’ he says, ‘but it’s flat,’ he adds standing back up, ‘so all of that for fuck all.’
‘Yeah fuck all,’ I say with a roll of my eyes, ‘apart from finding out you’re immune and Mo has some innate ability to predict where they’re going to be…oh and that all of you can now hear my thoughts which isn’t worrying at all considering some of the things I think about,’ I look at Marcy with a raised eyebrow which makes them all burst out laughing.
‘Pervert,’ she says.
‘Probably,’ I say nonchalantly, ‘fuck me, Nick. You’re immune!’
‘Yeah, looks that way,’ he says with a smile.
‘Or a carrier.’
‘Bring the fucking mood down, Roy,’ Blowers responds quickly to the blunt comment.
‘Fact is fact,’ Roy says, ‘do you think that does anything? Cutting your hands like that?’
‘No idea,’ I admit.
‘Maybe it does,’ Clarence says, ‘the infection works in two minutes so whatever is in Mr Howie’s and the lads blood could work the same way.’
‘What? It doesn't work like that,’ Roy scoffs, ‘you don’t just bleed into someone and make them better. Anti-bodies don’t just transfer like that.’
‘How do you know?’ Clarence asks.
‘I’ve spent more time in the doctor’s surgery than all of you and I’ve probably had every test known to mankind and although I’m not a doctor I think I can confidently say that sticking your bleeding hand on someone doesn't cure them of the bloody zombie virus.’
‘Oh,’ Clarence says casually, ‘maybe it does.’
‘I think you are all immune,’ Charlie says in that polite clipped way that gets everyone’s attention instantly.
‘Do what?’ I ask as she shifts position uncomfortably at the sudden attention.
‘You said yesterday that you had been involved in many fights and today when you were being attacked I said to Reginald I wanted to go and help and he informed me of the numbers you had previously fought and how this group attacking you were really quite small in comparison and now, as you were talking, I recalled the way you fought yesterday…which is really very close.’
‘Right,’ I say prompting her on.
She stares back at us all for a second as though deciding whether to continue or not, ‘we wore masks,’ she says in a blunt way that doesn't sound blunt because she’s so well-spoken, ‘you do not wear masks.’
A stunned silence follows as we all follow the train of thought to the end conclusion. Staggering. Completely and utterly staggering in the realisation of the simplest suggestion of an idea.
‘Oh,’ I say stupidly.
‘What?’ Cookey asks looking round, ‘I don’t get it.’
‘So our faces wouldn’t get bitten,’ Blinky says to him rolling her eyes.
‘Er no,’ Charlie says diplomatically, ‘that is not my point.’
‘What is the point then?’ Cookey asks.
‘My god you are so thick,’ Blowers mutters.
‘Even I worked that one out,’ Nick says.
‘Worked what one out? That we’ve got to wear masks so we don’t get our faces bitten? For a start none of us have had our faces bitten yet and they don’t really go for faces but like arms and hands and necks and shit…’
‘Cookey,’ Paula says quietly, ‘listen to Charlie.’
‘All day long,’ Cookey says with a grin as Blowers and Nick both groan.
‘I think the average human male body contains something like five litres of blood, at least I think that’s right,’ Charlie says.
‘It is,’ Dave says.
‘And they do bleed rather a lot when Dave cuts them.’
‘Arterial bleeds,’ Dave says.
‘And of course you all cut them rather a lot and they bleed rather a lot and of course that blood flies about into the air and on your hands and arms and faces…’ she lets the words hang.
‘Oh yeah,’ Cookey says seriously, ‘we always get covered in shit but like, they haven’t bitten our faces.’
‘Forget the face biting,’ Paula says.
‘I thought we had to wear masks now?’ Cookey asks.
‘Fuck’s sake,’ Blowers snaps, ‘transference you dick, blood transference…’
Cookey nods slowly but the light of recognition still doesn't show, ‘oh my fucking god,’ Blowers wails, ‘really? Really, Cookey?’
‘Alex,’ Paula says, ‘Charlie is suggesting that with all the close quarters fights you’ve been in that some of the blood, at some point, would have gone either into your mouth or into a cut…’
‘Urgh that’s fucking gross,’ Cookey recoils, ‘and we don’t fight with our gobs open.’
‘Your gob is always open,’ Blowers says, ‘it never closes…ever...’
‘So…so we’ve probably always been immune then?’ Nick asks.
‘Always open,’ Blowers mutters, ‘it just never closes…not ever…’
‘I could be immune then?’ Mo asks.
‘Do you even know how to close it?’
‘Fucking hang on,’ I ask suddenly, ‘how the hell has no one thought of this before?’ I stare round at the guilty faces, ‘seventeen…no eighteen bloody days of this and not one of us ever thought of that? A fucking mask? A face mask?’
‘Well,’ Clarence says shuffling on the spot, ‘not something you think about.’
‘You were both in the bloody army,’ I say to Clarence and Dave, ‘and you,’ I add with a look at Blowers.
‘Oh shit,’ Cookey moans, ‘do we have to wear masks?’
‘You are immune you idiot,’ Clarence groans, ‘you do not need a mask now. You are immune.’
‘Oh cool,’ Cookey sighs with relief, ‘thank fuck for that.’
‘How the hell are we still alive?’ I ask with a groan, ‘we are so completely incompetent.’
‘We’re not that bad,’ Clarence says.
‘We should have put masks and goggles on,’ I shout back, ‘I didn’t think of it…you never said anything, Dave didn’t mention it…Paula?’
‘What?’
‘You never said anything either.’
‘Can’t think of everything and anyway, you were already well into it by the time I joined the group.
’
‘Roy?’
‘Er,’ he flounders on the spot.
‘You’re medically aware.’
‘Er…’
‘We’re all shit,’ I announce, ‘all of us. Incompetent. Charlie, you are now in charge of everything.’
‘Pardon?’
‘Yay,’ Cookey says, ‘can I carry your bags?’
‘Pardon?’
‘What else haven’t we done?’ I ask her.
‘Pardon?’
‘Seriously, I’m not saying it like having a go for pointing the stupid things we haven’t done out but like genuinely asking what else we should be doing.’
‘I er…gosh I don’t know. I don’t want to be in charge.’
‘It was organic,’ Clarence says.
‘What was?’ I ask him when he doesn't continue.
‘We had a few fights and it just went from there…it was an organic transition of events that allowed the present situation to develop to its current system.’
‘Holy fuck that was good,’ I say with admiration.
‘It’s what Chris used to say to the bosses when they asked why we did things,’ Clarence admits.
‘Yeah,’ I look at Charlie, ‘it was an organic transition of…er…’
‘Events,’ Clarence prompts.’
‘Of events that allowed the present...er…’
‘Situation to develop to its current system.’
‘What he said,’ I point to Clarence.
‘Oh,’ Charlie says politely, ‘I was not being accusatory in any capacity and I apologise if it appears I was.’
‘It was organic,’ I say, ‘transition of something that did something to the system.’
‘Indeed,’ she says, ‘I fully accept that but I there is no need to justify anything to me.’
‘So,’ I say happily to the group, ‘we may or may not be all immune and if anyone wants to test it they can go lick that dead body and Dave will wait to shoot you through the face if you turn…anyone?’
‘Nah,’ Clarence says after a few seconds of silence, ‘I’ll pass.’
‘Paula? Want to lick a headless dead body?’
‘Got water,’ she says, ‘thanks anyway.’
‘Mo?’
‘If I say no do I have to wear a mask and goggles?’
