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

by Oldham, S. P.

  She stood, hurriedly zipping herself up. Convinced there was nothing up here with her, she relaxed a little. She chose a spot by the ledge where they hadn’t earlier tipped one body or another over the side and indulged in a rare moment of peace, leaning down onto the rail to watch the world below. Covered in darkness as it now was, all the carnage hidden, you could be forgiven for thinking it was simply a place peacefully asleep, awaiting a new day.

  Something clattered and clanged down on the street. Lavender stiffened, immediately alert to danger, adrenaline already beginning to flow. She watched, ready to rouse the others at the first sign of trouble. Nothing happened. She wondered if cats still prowled, reckoned they must. There were probably some monstrous feral cats out there by now, given the multitude of rats and other rodents they had to feast on. Maybe one such cat had simply knocked over a bin, or a can or something.

  Not a cat. Footsteps, heavy and most definitely human, rang out along the pavement directly below her building. She leaned further over the rail, craning to see who it might be. There was an indistinct shape amongst the shadows. Somebody seemed to be pushing something. They were headed away from the student block, which was a small relief. No trouble heading their way again just yet.

  She watched, expecting at any moment to see undead lolloping along behind the retreating figure. Nothing came, nothing happened. The street fell quiet again.

  Lavender shrugged, tiredness once more washing over her. Whoever it was, they hadn’t come looking. They were likely long gone by now. No point raising any kind of alarm. Probably just another poor soul trying to survive out there in hell.

  Part of her said they should find him and help him. Some part of her exhausted mind told her it could be Davy down there. That made no sense, she decided. If it was Davy, surely he would have come up, to find out how the others had fared, or to see if they had returned? Anyway, whoever it was had gone.

  She went back to the stuffy storage room and locked the door behind her once more. She snuggled into Carson’s back, wrapping her arm about him. She closed her eyes, vague images of a running figure melting into shadow playing out against her eyelids. There was something she should think of, something she should understand. Had she seen him before?

  The thought faded, as shapeless as the strange figure. Sleep claimed her.

  *

  When she next woke it was full light, Magda and Mayhew were absent and Carson was sitting up, leaning against a wall watching her. Something in his expression made her heart heavy. She didn’t think she could stand it if he couldn’t remember her name again.

  “Morning,” she said softly, smiling.

  “More like afternoon actually,” Carson smiled back, “Are you hungry?”

  “Starved!” Lavender said. She couldn’t remember when she last ate.

  “Good, because Mayhew and Magda have been out scavenging and have come up trumps! Come and see,” he extended a hand, helping her up. Keeping her hand in his, he led her down the stairs, both of them stepping wordlessly around the decapitated Thinker, already beginning to putrefy in the warmth of the day.

  They descended the steps in silence, always listening for the shuffling advance of zombies. At times, Lavender felt her nerves would finally snap and she would just lose it, she was so tired of being in a state of constant alert. She glanced at Carson. He wasn’t smiling, but the familiar furrow of concentration was missing from his brow. The sense of foreboding she had when she first awoke returned, making her stomach turn. He appeared not to feel her eyes upon him, leading her onto the landing of the second floor, where they had discovered a communal kitchen.

  It was of little conventional use. The water had long since dried up, the electricity and gas no longer worked, but it did offer plates, cutlery and crockery and some semblance of normality. As they approached, the aroma of cooking food wafted out to them, filling Lavender simultaneously with a sudden desperate need to eat, coupled with concern that the smell of it might act as a beacon to their whereabouts.

  Mayhew looked up as she entered the smoky kitchen. The window was open wide to allow it to escape, adding to Lavender’s concerns. He seemed to understand the look on her face, because he shrugged and said, “Sometimes you’ve just got to take a risk. We need to eat, end of.”

  He was at the sink beneath the window, the handle of a large frying pan in one hand, a spatula in the other. Resting on top of the draining board was an oven tray filled with kindling that had been allowed to burn, then settle to a hot smouldering temperature. On top of it rested the pan, the contents of which he was now stirring, turning his attentions away from her.

  “You found matches?” Lavender asked.

  “We did,” Magda answered for Mayhew. She was leaning against one of the counters, arms folded, an impatient air about her, “Along with one or two other little goodies, including what’s in the pan over there,”

  “And what is in the pan?” Lavender asked, stomach rumbling.

  “Potatoes, onions and carrots. No meat I’m afraid,” Mayhew added apologetically.

  Lavender thought of the Thinker’s head parting from its neck, of the zombie tearing chunks out of Petra’s arm, “No meat’s fine by me,” she grimaced, “it smells great,”

  “Doesn’t it though?” Carson said, beaming at her. Lavender couldn’t help but grin back; he looked so pleased.

  They ate in silence, crunching on the dry vegetables that in truth were only semi-cooked and burned on the outsides. It didn’t matter; the food was hot and sweet in her mouth. She relished every last forkful and was sorry when it was gone.

  She put her plate pointlessly into the sink, by sheer force of habit, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “So where did that feast come from?”

  “We left you sleeping and went out on a scavenger hunt,” Magda said, “turns out someone a few streets away was a bit of a gardener. Most of what he had grown had gone to seed, but we scraped this lot out of the mud, plus a few more we’ve put to one side for later,” she nodded to a bag lying on the floor under a table.

  “He had the matches too?” Lavender asked.

  “Yep, right there in his kitchen drawer, along with this,” she pulled a small but sharp looking knife out of her back pocket.

  “Great,” Lavender said, “It’ll come in handy,”

  “Let’s get moving then,” Mayhew said. He emptied the remains of the fire into the sink, then set the oven tin to cool on the window sill, “Too hot to pack it yet,” he explained to everyone and no one.

  “Pack?” Lavender raised a quizzical eyebrow, “You going somewhere?”

  “We all are,” Carson said, “This was a good place to stay for a while, but I get the feeling our time here’s up. We’re moving on,”

  Lavender nodded, biting her bottom lip uneasily. She looked about her, seeing that they were all agreed on the matter, “Okay, I can see that. Especially since it’s trashed up there now anyway,” she looked upward, towards the roof, “But do we have any idea where we’re going? I don’t much like the idea of wandering aimlessly,” she held back from saying ‘we’ve done enough of that already.’

  “We’re heading out of town, stopping by the river on the way. Now that we’ve got the means to light a fire again, we’ll collect some water and boil it for drinking,” Magda eyed her critically, “We can all stop and wash there too. We can look out for some new clothes on the way,” she said pointedly, taking in Lavender’s appearance.

  Ridiculous in the circumstances to feel a prickle of annoyance at Magda’s words. Everything she said made perfect sense. Yet Lavender couldn’t help but bridle at her derisive tone.

  “We got anything to carry water in?” was all she said.

  “These,” Mayhew said, holding up two large bottles made of white plastic. The label on one read ‘Naylor’s Budget Thick Bleach,’ the other ‘Naylor’s Budget Washing Up Liquid: Original.’ “I’ll empty them out. We can wash them as thoroughly as possible at the river, then refi
ll them with water.”

  Lavender eyed the washing up liquid bottle hungrily, “Don’t empty them both Mayhew please. Can we keep that one?” she turned to Carson pleadingly, “I’m not the only one around here who needs a wash,”

  To her surprise, it was Magda who backed her up, “Agreed,” she said, I vote we keep the soap. We can use it as a water bottle too, as soon as it’s empty,”

  When they set out the day was already wearing on. They each carried something of value; Carson the bag of vegetables, Mayhew the lighter, plates and cooking utensils, all bundled into a bag made out of a shower curtain and thrown over his shoulder in a way that made Lavender think of Dick Whittington. Lavender carried the precious bottle of liquid soap and Magda the other bottle, now empty since she had poured the remaining bleach it held into the sink, plus the knife.

  They walked in their customary fashion, one behind the other, spaced out at intervals, down the middle of the road wherever possible. Lavender was relieved to feel the air about her become cooler and fresher, the noise of the river growing ever louder in her ears. She actually shivered as they drew near, tiny droplets of water freckling her face as they emerged from a thicket of bushes onto the river bank.

  The water was busy here, cascading over a line of rocks stretching its width, thought it did not appear to be too deep. Mayhew was already at the water’s edge, unable to contain his thirst, scooping handfuls into his mouth. They all did the same, Lavender trying not to think about what might be lying dead in the water somewhere upstream. You could die of thirst just as easily as of some waterborne disease.

  She glanced up at the bridge spanning the river to her right. Amongst the usual jumble of vehicles was a bus, lying on its side at an angle across the bridge. She stood up for a better look. It wasn’t the type that ran circular trips on a daily basis. It looked more like a coach; the lettering on it plusher and more flamboyant, something more luxurious in its bearing than a standard bus about town. The sort of coach people went on trips and holidays in. The sort of bus that carried suitcases.

  “I don’t know about any of you, but I really need a change of clothes. I mean, I really need it,” she said, “Anyone up for coming to investigate that coach with me?”

  They agreed to go together, stashing their few belongings beneath a thorny bush that grew alongside the river, with the exception of the frying pan, which Mayhew had said was better than no weapon at all. The way he spun it round and round, despite his wounded hands, told her he could put it to good use if he had to.

  She hoped he wouldn’t.

  The Bridge

  The rear window of the coach had been kicked out, landing wholesale on the tarmac, the bus lying on its side. There was a skid mark along the road behind it, its nose nudging the bridge railing the at the front. The driver had evidently slammed the breaks on in a hurry and lost control. The boot holding the luggage, if there was any, was face up and difficult to get to, not to mention a waste of effort if it was locked. Lavender hoped it would be; it would mean it hadn’t been looted yet. It was a rare thing to find anything untouched nowadays.

  “Pointless trying the boot until we’ve found the keys to open it,” Mayhew said, his thoughts once more parallel to her own, “I vote we go and see if the driver is still buckled in,”

  Magda was already heading towards the front of the bus, where the driver’s seat was now facing sidelong alongside the boot.

  “Here Mayhew, crouch so I can sit on your shoulders,”

  Mayhew did as he was bid. When she was astride his shoulders he stood. Magda adjusted her position, swapping her sitting position to a standing one in preparation for climbing into the bus.

  “Is he there?” Lavender asked.

  “He’s there,” Magda confirmed, “and he’s dead. Not bitten as far as I can tell. It looks like the crash killed him. Hang on a second,”

  She disappeared from view. The bus rocked slightly at her weight and movement, making the others step back in alarm. “You okay up there?” Carson shouted.

  “I’m okay, it’s just a bit tricky trying to walk down the aisle of a bus when it’s sideways on and suspended in the air!”

  “Why are you bothering?” Lavender asked, “Weren’t the keys on the driver?”

  “Oh yeah, there was a whole set of keys still in the ignition. I’m assuming one of them is for the boot,”

  “Then what are you doing?” Lavender asked, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice.

  There was no reply. The bus had fallen still and silent. The little group outside on the bridge exchanged worried glances.

  “You don’t think…” Lavender had no time to finish her sentence. Magda gave a harsh, startled cry, followed by a string of expletives. The bus began rocking, more fervently now. Mayhew and Lavender hurried back a few more paces. Seeing Carson was making no effort to move, Lavender yanked him backwards. He turned on her, a flash of anger in his face.

  “Get your hands off me!” he snarled.

  Taken aback, Lavender did just that, releasing her grip and taking another backward step, this time away from Carson.

  Then his features cleared, softened. He looked confused, as if he didn’t understand what was going on.

  “It’s okay Carson,” Lavender soothed, reaching out for him once more. This time he did not resist, allowing himself to be pulled out of harm’s way.

  Mayhew looked on, his face full of concern, “When this is over Lavender, you and I need to talk,” He flashed his eyes meaningfully at Carson. She glared back at him, shaking her head in denial.

  The bus lurched violently, drawing their attention once more.

  There was no way of knowing what was going on inside without joining Magda. The way it was rocking now made that an impossibility. They could only look on. Magda had stopped yelling, all they could hear now was a series of grunts and moans; there was undoubtedly a zombie in there with her. Maybe more than one.

  “If undead start pouring out of that broken window we turn tail and run, got it?” She was speaking to them both, but her eyes were fixed on Carson, “I grab your hand and we run, right?”

  “Right,” Carson nodded vaguely.

  “Well I hope you’re ready to do just that, because any minute now we may need to. Look,” Mayhew waved the frying pan at the bus.

  Whatever the cause of the commotion inside was, it had been enough to tip the bus over the point of no return. It came crashing down onto the tarmac, bounced a time or two, the nose of the bus freeing itself of the railing and rolling a few feet before coming to a stop. They held their breath, waiting.

  There was a figure walking down the aisle of the coach towards the beaten out rear window. It was bloodied and limping, a dark silhouette against the sun streaming through the windscreen behind it. Lavender’s hand tightened about Carson’s preparing to flee.

  Magda appeared in the window frame, flopping down to her knees and panting heavily.

  “A zombie,” she breathed, “an old woman, thank God. Still, enough to keep a girl busy, Here,” she said, dangling something that jingled from her fingers, “I got the keys.”

  *

  It was Lavender who caught them. She hurried to the boot, expecting it to be the wrong key. She was pleasantly surprised. The boot opened easily, revealing a jumble of suitcases, overnight bags and shopping trolleys.

  “Bingo!” she said, turning bright-eyed to Carson.

  “Bingo!” He echoed, but with no real enthusiasm, much as if he was merely echoing her.

  *

  They filtered out what they needed from all the things stashed in the boot, cramming one large suitcase randomly with clothes and other useful things. In a shopping trolley, that perhaps had once belonged to the old lady Magda had just killed, they found treasure. Tinned food, biscuits that were long out of date but still in their packaging, several gifts still wrapped in brightly coloured paper and two bottles of red wine.

  Mayhew had taken it upon himself to go through the bodies left on the
bus. He had the foresight to remove several pairs of likely looking shoes from some of the corpses. He had rummaged through pockets, finding cigarettes, matches and lighters, cough sweets, pens and chewing gum. He discarded the wallets, mobile phones, money and keys. They were no use to anyone anymore.

  He jumped down from the bus, several coats draped over one arm. He had evidently stuffed the pockets full with his finds; a red lighter fell as he jumped, skittering across the concrete to hit Lavender’s toe. She bent to retrieve it as Mayhew looked appreciatively at the full trolley and the bulging suitcase.

  “Makes a pleasant change for us to come out of a situation better off than when we went in,” he beamed.

  A sense of achievement settling over the little group, the began making their way back. They were almost at the spot where the thicket of bushes opened out onto the river bank where they had earlier stashed their belongings, when Mayhew let out a curse.

  “Damn!”

  “What is it?” Magda asked. Lavender noticed that she was holding her injured arm awkwardly. She also had a fresh new cut along her jawline. Not deep, but enough to bring blood to the surface to glisten in the late afternoon sun.

  “I left my frying pan on the bus!” Mayhew sounded genuinely upset.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Magda said, “Leave it,”

  “Leave it? And what do we cook with, now we’ve actually got food to cook? It’s too vital to just leave behind. Look, I don’t need any of you to come with me. We’ve been over there once, we know there’s nothing to worry about. Take these,” he shoved the coats into a surprised Carson’s hands, “I’ll be back in a few minutes,”

  Then he was gone, beyond the clearing and back out onto the road that led directly onto the bridge.

  “Let him go,” Magda said, turning her back on him, “he’s right, he’ll come to no harm. Besides, I don’t think he’s in the mood to listen,”

  She pushed the trolley ahead of her, using it as a sort of wheeled battering ram to clear the way through the thicket. Lavender was hard on her heels, deploying the heavy suitcase in much the same way, using it as a shield against prickly branches. Carson was right behind her. She had thought of asking him to carry the case, then stopped short. Not so long ago she wouldn’t have had to ask, he would have just done it. He was bigger and stronger than either of the women by far. It wasn’t that Lavender minded heavy work, it was just that it wasn’t like him. In fact, he was becoming less and less like him by the day.