Sleep, Think, Die (Book 2): The Undertaking

by Oldham, S. P.

  “You forgot this!” Carson bellowed, leaning over the rail, yanking the arm free and sending it after the body accelerating towards the ground. They watched as it landed, seeming to explode upon contact, a mess of blood and bone on the pavement.

  That had been back when they had first found the place. Now as they entered the building, rats had scattered reluctantly. They were ever present, growing bolder daily. That was nothing unusual, nor was the sight of putrefying corpses they had left behind, some near skeletal now, their bones having been stripped clean by all manner of natural waste disposal.

  What was unusual, were the fresh, bloodied footprints that began mid-stairs on the second floor. They were at first faint, facing down the stairs. They became clearer, more richly pressed with blood, as Lavender ascended; bloodied hand prints and streaks of red began to appear along the walls the higher they went.

  By the time they reached the fourth floor and the doorway to the rooftop – the one Lavender had fallen through - there was no denying what had obviously happened in their absence; zombies.

  It was apparent that the three they had left behind – Gina, Marcus and Davy – had put up one hell of a fight; the place was a shambles. The door itself was missing, ripped from its hinges. It lay discarded to one side, something underneath it propping it up at an angle to the floor. Magda crossed to investigate, lifting the door cautiously with her uninjured arm, just enough to look under.

  “It’s Marcus,” she said with a grimace, lowering the door again gently.

  “Bitten? Or just ripped apart?” Mayhew asked bluntly.

  Magda shrugged, “Pretty ripped up yes. Bitten, I can’t tell. No sign of movement,”

  She stepped away, as if suddenly uncomfortable at being so close to a relatively fresh corpse.

  “Can I just remind all of you that we have no weapons, as we speak?” she said in a soft voice, “Just in case you had forgotten,”

  Carson looked round at her in surprise, as if he had indeed forgotten.

  “We haven’t forgotten,” Lavender interjected, “let’s just keep our wits about us. Keep your eyes peeled,”

  “An unfortunate expression if ever I heard one,” Magda muttered under her breath.

  There was a thick pool of congealing blood on the floor.

  “Hard to believe people have so much blood inside them,” Mayhew remarked.

  “Not anymore they don’t” Magda rejoined. Lavender shut her ears to them, trying to concentrate.

  Items that had been neatly stacked in the storage room were scattered across the rooftop, though it was hard to tell now if they had been used as weapons or an attempt at defence. Either way, it would seem they had not been of much use. Many of the hard-plastic chairs had been snapped, or the seats torn wholly from the metal legs. Bulbs crushed underfoot, tiny shards of glass glittering evilly. There was a second body about two thirds of the way along the railing. Gina; drooping over the rail, staring sightlessly down onto the street below.

  “Looks like it was Davy that managed to get out then,” Magda said, following Lavender’s eyes, “Wonder how far he got?”

  “Who knows?” Lavender said absently. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she had just seen Gina’s foot twitch. Maybe it was just the wind; it was breezy up here on the exposed part of the roof. She held her breath and kept watching.

  There it was again; a definite twitch of the foot, a slight flexing of fingers on the left hand as it dangled earthward.

  “Oh no you don’t” Lavender hissed, surprising the others. Throwing caution to the wind she decided to act fast, too exhausted, too filthy and too despairing to face another fight.

  She went to the body balanced over the rail, shoving aside the debris that stood in her way. Without looking for any further confirmation, she lifted Gina’s legs free of the floor and upended her. She watched her falling. Gina’s body twisted mid-air, her eyes flashing open, fixing immediately upon Lavender; a glare so malevolent and intent it dispelled any beginnings of guilt Lavender was beginning to feel about disposing of her so readily.

  “She was about to reanimate!” she called to the others, feeling sick to her stomach suddenly, “She’d been bitten all right!” She spun round, ready to suggest they dispose of Marcus in the same fashion.

  To come face-to-face with a Thinker.

  Think Fast

  It was the glow in their eyes that gave them away; a dull amber, like the sun going down. That and their hugely disproportionate size and their overwhelming aggression. She had seen many a Thinker since she and Carson had finally ventured out to keep the promise they had made to Gasher all those months ago; to rid the world of zombies and hunt down every last one of these aberrations. It made no difference; each time she laid eyes on one it was a fresh shock, a new horror.

  This one was way too close, and she had only one way to go; backwards, which meant toppling over the rail as Gina had done. She wanted to buckle, her knees at once weak, her breath leaving her in an anguished rush. She wanted to curl up as small as she could, close her eyes and simply wish it away.

  It was grinning, or appeared to be. A rictus grin, the fleshy part of its mouth all but gone, exposing bone and teeth beneath. Its cheeks were rotten, the outer edges of loosely hanging flesh discoloured and flaky. One ear was missing, leaving a glistening black and bloody wound. It towered over Lavender.

  She had no idea how it could have crept up on her unnoticed. It must have rounded the storage room at a pace, too fast for the others to warn her. Maybe she had been so preoccupied in dealing with Gina that she hadn’t heard them. It hardly mattered; it was here now, and it had eyes only for her.

  Lavender sensed movement at the other side of the roof, but she didn’t dare turn away. She wasn’t sure she could have moved if she had wanted to, frozen with fear as she was. She was wondering when it would make its attack, when it lunged. There was no other word for it. It raised its arms as if to plunge wrist deep into her torso and tear her limb from limb.

  Lavender screamed and ducked, the massive Thinker missing her and slamming its meaty hands down on the rail instead. Whimpering, she shuffled sideways until she was out from under the arc of its massive body and free to run, if she could just make her legs work. It groaned; an ancient, evil sound older that she felt in her very core. Sobbing, she tried to force herself upright and into action.

  Something large and solid was coming at her sideways on. She was too terrified to understand what she was seeing. She had barely found her feet when she heard Carson bellow “Get down!”

  She responded instinctively, dropping to her haunches, wrapping her arms about her head and tucking her elbows in tight. There was a rush of air and a collective “Oomph!” as Carson, Mayhew and Magda hit their target, holding the door before them like a large, rectangular shield.

  They succeeded in sending the Thinker backwards a few steps. They gathered themselves, tightening their grip on the door, beginning to back up in preparation for a fresh onslaught.

  “Get up!” Carson shouted, contradicting his earlier command, “Get up and get behind us. See if there is anything we can use for a weapon. Hurry up!”

  Lavender recognised the additional urgency in his voice and saw the Thinker had recovered and was preparing to rush them. She ran, scrambling amongst the discarded items, stumbling over broken chairs.

  Movement caught her eye in the open doorway. Her heart sank at the prospect of more zombies, wondering if it had been a trick of the light or her panic making her seeing things. She glanced over at Marcus’ corpse; no sign of life there. She shrugged it off, no time to waste.

  The rooftop offered nothing in the way of weaponry. The cries of the others ringing in her ears as they fended off the Thinker the best they could, she ducked into the storage building.

  The place had been ransacked. It looked like a hurricane had hit it. Despairing, Lavender piled into the wreckage, pulling out crates and boxes at random, shoving aside tables in her bid to find anything resembling a weapon
.

  She jarred her hip painfully against the corner of a fold-up bed that was jutting menacingly out of a pile of junk. She rubbed it, aware that time was of the essence. There was nothing that would make an effective killing tool.

  Her eye fell upon a reel of cable, still hanging neatly on a hook on the wall, the only orderly thing in the place. Not knowing what else to do she grabbed it and ran back out on to the rooftop.

  The Thinker had almost backed them up to the stair well, meaning they were now in front of Lavender. That left her in the precarious position of being behind the Thinker. If it turned, it would come at her, and there was nothing and no one to stop it.

  Another step and Carson and the others would be at the doorway, the door across it sideways. They could at least turn and run, maybe the door would hold the Thinker a second or two. More likely it would simply turn its attentions to Lavender.

  An idea popped into her head. A crazy one that probably wouldn’t work, but it had to be better than nothing.

  She made two large loops in the middle of the cable, leaving substantial lengths either side. She found a chair that was still reasonably whole and climbed up on it. If the Thinker turned now she was dead meat, no question.

  Mayhew glanced at her. He seemed to understand what she was doing, renewing his efforts to antagonise the Thinker. Roaring so harshly his throat must hurt, he did his best to make sure the Thinker focused on the three of them in the doorway. Grateful, Lavender didn’t waste time on self- doubt or worrying what would happen next, she just looped the cable around the Thinker’s neck, jumping hurriedly down from the chair.

  She had expected it to turn the second the cable touched its rotting flesh. It did no such thing, just pressed forward, finally forcing the others to abandon both the door and the doorway. Lavender watched them as they stumbled down a step or two. It was only then the Thinker turned and came for her.

  She yelped in surprise and ran, the thing careering after her. Then it came to an abrupt stop, yanked violently backwards, its arms swinging high as its progress was suddenly halted.

  Magda and Carson had one length of cable that stretched from the Thinker’s neck, Mayhew the other. They were straining madly, pulling it from both sides as if engaged in a grim tug-of-war. Lavender ran to Mayhew, adding what little strength she had left to the struggle. There was a moment of non-movement, then the Thinker lurched sideways, Magda and Carson having to step quickly to keep it at arm’s length, Mayhew and Lavender dragged a sliding step or two towards it.

  “It’s too strong!” Mayhew shouted above the zombie’s relentless groans, “We can’t hold it like this,”

  As he spoke, the Thinker began to wind the cable around its arms, giving it a firmer grip.

  “Oh shit!” Mayhew cursed breathlessly. Lavender felt him tighten his own grasp on the cable, set his body low in preparation for the Thinker’s next move.

  “We’re going over!” Carson called to them from across the rooftop. Lavender blinked, wondering what he meant.

  She watched in disbelief as first Magda, then Carson, stood on the ledge, cocking their legs over the low metal rail. Lavender understood what they meant to do, thought it a crazy idea, but there was no way to stop them.

  “Hold tight!” She cautioned Mayhew needlessly; he too had seen what they planned.

  Then there was a tremendous jolt as Carson and Magda launched themselves over the side. The Thinker ran crab-like towards the rail, dragging Lavender and Mayhew with it. They almost collided, the pair of them stepping hastily back before the thing could start swinging out at them.

  The exaggerated muscles in the Thinker’s neck were bulging beneath its skin as it fought to remain upright. The cable tightened, embedding more deeply into its flesh. The groaning had ceased, becoming a wheezing rush of air, like a tyre slowly deflating. It could not resist the pull to the right, leaning over at an unnatural angle towards Carson and Magda dangling below.

  “We’ve got to keep the pressure up our side!” Mayhew said urgently, “If this thing works out how to unravel itself it’s coming straight for us!”

  “I know!” Lavender hissed, trying to think, “We need something heavy,”

  She looked about, trying to think fast. She began piling up the chairs that were not damaged beyond use. She dragged them to the opposing ledge, checking constantly that Mayhew was managing his end of the cable. She gathered up the long, loose cabling and looped it through the back of the chairs, tying it off as best she could. Sweating, muscles aching, she heaved the pile up. With a final glance back at Mayhew, his arms swollen and tangled in a mess of cable, his face red with exertion, she sent the pile of chairs over the side.

  The Thinker gave another lurch as Mayhew stepped out of the way smartly, keeping up the tension on the cable. He began to back up to Lavender, pulling the wire every step of the way, trying to deny the Thinker the slightest slack. There was no avoiding it. When Mayhew stepped free of the cable there was an obvious dip; the chance for the Thinker to loosen itself and step free.

  “Well we can’ t have that,” Mayhew said, as if Lavender had commented aloud. Shoving her aside he straddled the rail and lowered himself onto the dangling chairs, as if sitting on a stack of cheap plastic seating four storeys up in the air was a perfectly normal thing to do.

  The cable tautened, the pressure on the Thinker’s neck now tremendous. It sank to its knees, the cable a ligature digging through its skin, into the tendons and tissue beyond. It looked like some hellish painting from the bowels of hell; the Thinker zombie being slowly strangled, squeezed to death against the darkened frame of the doorway behind it. Lavender looked on in morbid fascination. The noose tightened still further and now the Thinker had given up all struggle and hung loose, its head drooping, its massive arms still.

  There was another great strain on the cable. Lavender peered over the edge to see Mayhew was standing on the chairs. He gripped the cable tightly as he began to jump up and down, the seats jangling precariously beneath him. She looked back at the Thinker. It had done the trick. The ligature had tightened again and she wished she had warning enough to look away when the head of the Thinker came free, a spurt of black-red blood spattering the rooftop. The head fell with a thud, rolling a time or two to land on one of its ruined cheeks, looking back at itself. The torso slumped, the stump neck now slick with gore.

  “Look out!” Lavender shouted, seeing that the cable was about to come loose and shake off the people still dangling from either end.

  There was a surprised yell. Lavender ran to the rail, relieved to see Carson and Magda were still holding on. She warned them to come up slow and keep the tension, Mayhew was on the other side.

  As soon as everyone was safely back on the roof, they put the door back into place more fittingly. It was missing its hinges and wouldn’t hold for even a second if anyone – or anything – chose to push against it, but it felt right having it there. They cleared a space in the storage area and closed and locked the door, all of them so exhausted that the only option left to them for now was sleep.

  “Wait a minute,” Lavender said, “There’s one more thing we’ve got to do,” She beckoned them back out on to the rooftop, where Marcus’ corpse lay stiffening in the sun.

  “He’s got to go,” she said, indicating the rail yet again.

  Mayhew and Carson didn’t even begin to argue. They took an end each and, even though the man showed no signs of coming back to life, simply tossed him over the sides. No one watched him fall, no one watched him land. They locked themselves into the storage room and slept the sleep of the bone-tired and weary, Lavender curled in Carson’s arms; he already snoring softly, like an untroubled child.

  *

  He has made a grave mistake. All he needs is some simple guidance, someone to help him understand that now is a time of reckoning. That mankind is all but dead, and deservedly so. There is a way for him to repent, when he sees the error of his ways. There is hope for him yet.

  Moving On />
  Lavender awoke, stiff necked and aching in every inch of her body. Her own body odour hit her like a blow, the sewer’s grime, sweat and body matter that she had waded through the day before clinging to her skin as it clung to her clothes.

  She sat up gingerly and looked around. Magda and Mayhew were still dead to the world, each of them occupying separate spaces amongst the shambles. She looked down at Carson, who mumbled something incoherent in his sleep before turning onto his side, still deep in slumber.

  Lavender felt an urgency to empty her bladder. She didn’t relish the thought of unlocking the door and stepping out onto the rooftop alone, but she was loathe to wake the others. She stood, tip-toed through the mess as quietly as she could manage and went to the door. Pressing her ear up to it, she listened.

  As far as she could tell, there was nothing out there. Cautiously she turned the key in the lock and eased the door open a crack, prepared to slam it shut the second anything came close. She held her breath; still nothing. She stepped out, clicking the door silently closed behind her, resolved not to go too far in case she needed to shout for help. On the other hand, fresh urine would be an attractive smell to a zombie; a dead giveaway, to coin a phrase. Too close to their hideout wouldn’t be a good idea.

  Out across the darkened landscape, no streetlamps or houselights anymore, Lavender could see the first tendrils of dawn touching the horizon. The cool breeze felt wonderful on her hot and clammy skin, but she knew she would be cold after the closeness of the storage room if she stayed out in it too long.

  She went to the furthest corner of the roof, keeping a wary eye as she dropped her trousers and relieved herself. She wished she could kick the damn things off, that she had something clean to wear. No such luck, though she would make it a priority today to find somewhere to wash if she got the chance. How Carson could bear to be close to her she couldn’t understand.