Ruin

by G G Garcia

  Paul paused and felt coldness around his frame. “Wit … wit do ya mean?”

  “Is that the first time you’ve had to kill those freaks?”

  “Yeah.” Paul gulped. But it’s not the first time I’ve killed someone, Mel.

  “That’s mental.”

  “Tell me about it.” Paul’s face was pale as a sheet, and was struggling to come to terms with what had happened around five minutes ago.

  He had actually killed people. They were infected, but according to the TV, they were still human. He had no choice, didn’t he? He had to kill them. It was either them or him. Did that make him a murderer?

  Paul checked his hands for blood, but there was little. He then patted his pocket where the knife was, and added, “If I hadn’t been carrying this...”

  “You see the next time you go out,” Lisa groaned, glaring at Paul with her wide eyes. “You’re staying out.”

  “Lisa,” Melvin scolded. “This guy was just trying to get to his friends, and probably desperate to get home.”

  “I don’t give a cunt’s hair,” she snapped. “If any of those maniacs see him leaving or entering the house, we could be in danger. I’m just thinking about me ... um … us.”

  Paul never reacted. He glared at the TV, watching some new footage that was being shown.

  “Lisa,” Melvin moaned. “Be quiet, my little piranha fish.”

  Lisa huffed and got to her feet and pointed at her husband. “A word, upstairs.”

  The two went upstairs to the landing, and an argument ensued.

  “Look,” Melvin began with a hushed voice. “Have some sympathy for the guy. He wants to go home. He wants—”

  “I don’t give a blue fuck about him,” Lisa huffed. “Besides—”

  “Look, my sweet, that guy has come back and has killed a few of those things.”

  “So?” Lisa had no idea where Melvin was going with his little speech, and folded her arms.

  “We piss him off and he could turn nasty.”

  “It’s us that need to turn nasty, Mel.” Lisa shook her head and now placed her hands on her hips, looking at a perplexed Melvin.

  “What ... what are you talking about, woman?”

  Lisa sighed and said, “We’ve seen the films, right? Those zombies are—”

  “They’re not zombies,” Melvin huffed. “Haven’t you been watching the news? They’re human beings, but have gone a bit ... mad.”

  “But if you’re bitten, like in the films, you can get infected, right?”

  “I don’t know.” Melvin hunched his shoulders. “That’s never been mentioned in the news. You can’t get your information from horror films we’ve seen in the past and just assume that it’s correct.”

  “Well, we can’t take the risk,” she said, and nodded downstairs. “That Paul fellow could turn any minute.”

  “Turn?” Melvin waggled his head. “What the frig are you talking about, my little viper?”

  “Haven’t you seen his hand, Mel?”

  “Um ... no. Why?”

  “He’s been bitten.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was near seven in the morning. The day was clear and the sun was now up after an early morning shower.

  Demi, and Craig had both washed and used JJ’s shower facilities. They had dried off with towels given to them by Helen Jameson, and got dressed back in the clothes they had been wearing all night. Tony was the only one that didn’t want a shower.

  Tony Willetts now needed the toilet, and asked the Jamesons if it was okay for him to visit the ‘little boys’ room. He crept onto the landing, once he was given permission, and had a look around. There were four closed doors and he was unsure which one was the bathroom. He didn’t want to accidentally go into one of the bedrooms, so he turned on his heels and was prepared to go and ask John Jameson which door led to the bathroom. The trouble with Tony was that he needed a shit.

  Regardless of the macabre and bizarre situation they were in, he had been a guest for about an hour and needed to empty his colon. It didn’t seem right, a bit disrespectful, but when you had to go...

  Tony thought, fuck it. It was a pub, so he knew there’d be toilets downstairs.

  Without saying anything to the owner of the establishment, he crept to the ground floor and into the dusky lounge area. He had been to the pub on a few occasions, so he knew where the toilets were. He walked into the dusky lounge area and felt a shiver scurrying over his shoulders. Being on the ground floor, alone, made his body shiver and increase his heartbeat.

  He went into the gents’ and picked a cubicle. Ten minutes later, he stepped out, feeling better and about two pounds lighter.

  He headed for the stairs to the first floor, but a thud from underneath him stopped him in his tracks. Tony screwed his face with confusion and wondered if he was hearing things.

  He went behind the bar, in the direction of where he heard the noise, and could see the trap door to the cellar. He waited and listened, but no more noises could be heard.

  He lifted his right leg up and stamped it on the trap door. Seconds later, another noise could be heard from underneath. Whatever it was, it was coming from behind the trap door.

  Tony was about to crouch down to get a better listen, but a male clearing his throat made him gasp.

  Tony stood up and could see John Jameson standing on the other side of the bar with a smirk on his face.

  “Is there something I can help you with?” he asked Tony.

  “Um...” Tony gulped, and had the same feeling he had four years ago, when his mother walked in his room and caught him masturbating to porn on his phone.

  “I invite you into my home and you go sneaking about.”

  “It’s not like that,” said Tony.

  “Oh?” John scratched the side of his head and queried, “What is it like then?”

  Tony could feel his face reddening and decided to come clean. “I came down here because I needed a shit. I didn’t want to do it in your own personal toilet. I thought that might be a little disrespectful.”

  “Okay.” John nodded, satisfied with Tony’s answer. “That makes sense. And I do appreciate that. You’ve only been here for over an hour, and curling out a steamy number isn’t really something I’d appreciate. So, thanks for that.”

  “And then I heard a noise,” Tony continued, and then pointed down to the trap door, to the door in the floor. “What’s down there, man?”

  “A cellar,” John said. “We have two. The beer barrels go into the one by the door, and down there,” he pointed at the trap door, “is where we keep storage. I buy a lot of wine, crisps and other shit in bulk. Maybe I buy too much, but I can’t resist a bargain. I used that basement ... cellar ... whatever you want to shittin’ call it, as a storage room.”

  “I think there’s something down there.”

  “Yes, there is something down there,” John sighed.

  “Oh.” Tony was taken aback, and it took a few seconds to realise that John already knew there was another presence in the pub. “So, what is it?”

  John Jameson ran his hand over his face and looked stressed. He took a quick look over his shoulder, turned to face Tony once more, opened his mouth and asked the young man, “Can you keep a secret?”

  *

  David Morton had had a frightful morning. He woke up around five in the morning after hearing a disturbance, and had gone to the ground floor and had been watching TV since. He cupped a hot cup of tea and watched the news with horror and could see people being attacked in his village of Hixon, and was certain that it was only a matter of time before his house was attacked.

  He grabbed his car keys and ran upstairs. He woke his daughter up and told her to get dressed. She was still tired and confused and when she asked questions, the only thing an irate David could do was shush her. “Just do it,” he said over again.

  They ran downstairs and he went into the kitchen; he grabbed a plastic bag and began emptying his cupboard.

  H
is daughter, Lyla, ran her fingers through her golden hair and asked her daddy for a bobble to tie her hair back. He threw her one and picked her up, holding the carrier bag with his other hand. He went over to his living room window and peered out. It seemed to be clear.

  “Daddy, what's wrong?”

  “Something bad is happening,” was all he could say.

  “What like?”

  “I…” he groaned. How could he explain this to his seven-year-old? “Let me explain when we get to the garden centre.”

  “The garden centre?” Lyla was confused and it showed. "Are you going to work? Why am I going with you? Where’s Daisy?”

  The barrage of questions were driving him mad and he did his best to keep it together. His daughter was confused, possibly frightened, and her daddy was acting strangely. Her mother had been dead two years and David was all she had. The garden centre she was referring to was David's place of work, and Daisy was her occasional childminder whenever David needed her. He was the manager of the garden centre, was a keyholder, and guessed that the establishment would be a lot safer than any house. Even if the ground floor was left open, there were the secure offices upstairs.

  David told his daughter to close her eyes and opened his front door. God, he was hoping he was doing the right thing. He pressed the fob and the Mazda bleeped, confirming that it was open. He placed Lyla on the passenger seat and a male individual from out of nowhere grabbed David, making the man fall over. Then the male went inside the car to attack Lyla, forcing the girl to scream.

  David grabbed the man’s shirt and pulled him out of the car. The attacker hit the ground and David kicked him twice in the head, shut the passenger door, then immediately went round to the driver’s side.

  He pulled away and turned to his side to check on his daughter.

  “Oh, my poor baby.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Melvin was about to step downstairs, but Lisa grabbed his arm.

  “So, what are we gonna do?” she asked him.

  Melvin hunched his shoulders. “About what?”

  “About him downstairs. He could be infected.”

  “We don’t know if that’s possible,” Melvin groaned.

  “I was watching a film a few weeks ago, starring Cillian Murphy, about this plague—”

  “Holy shitballs,” Melvin interrupted. “Stop talking about films, okay? The fact is, what’s happening, nobody seems to have many facts at the moment. Whatever it is, it has started today, in the early hours. All we can do is watch TV, get more information, sit tight, and hope help comes our way.”

  “But what if he turns?”

  “Alrighty shitey, calm down.” Melvin sighed and scratched his head in thought, unsure what to do. “I’ll explain to him our concerns and ask him if he would stay in one of our rooms for a few hours. If he changes ... then I’ll deal with it.”

  “You’ll deal with it?” Lisa scoffed. “You?”

  “Um … yeah, why not?”

  “You are the same guy that’s scared of spiders, right?” Lisa began to giggle at her husband, creating visions in Melvin’s head of smashing her face against the wall repeatedly. “This is the same man that screamed like a girl when you spotted a spider on your towel, just before you were about to dry off from the shower?”

  “It was the size of my hand.”

  “Bollocks. It was tiny.” Lisa waggled her head with a smirk on her face. “And as for killing it with a hammer… A bit extreme, don’t you think?”

  “Fuck off, woman, will you? Anyway, that was seven years ago.”

  “Okay,” Lisa began. “If you’re gonna confront our guest then you better get your wrinkly arse down there now, before he turns.”

  Melvin and Lisa took to the stairs and were both hesitant on opening the living room door. They stepped in and a seated Paul turned around and gave off a thin smile and then gazed back at the TV.

  “Any extra news?” Melvin asked him.

  Paul shook his head. “Not yet. Apparently the Prime Minister is going to address the nation.”

  “That twat?” Lisa huffed. “Our PM’s about as much use as a dildo in a nunnery.”

  “I hope ya don’t mind,” Paul said, dismissing Lisa’s comment, “but I used ya landline phone to ring my house.”

  “Any one answer?” Melvin asked. He and Lisa were still standing side by side and she gave a nudge in his side, telling him to stop messing about.

  “No.” Paul shook his head. “I left a message on the answer machine, though.”

  “Maybe they’re still in bed or hiding upstairs...” Melvin never managed to finish his sentence. Or dead.

  Another nudge from Lisa and Melvin cleared his throat, ready to start the awkward sentence.

  Noticing that the pair of them were acting strangely, Paul asked if everything was okay.

  “Well, actually ... no, Paul.” Melvin lowered his head, reluctant to continue. “We ... um...”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Lisa yelled and punched Melvin in his side. “Honestly, you’ve got zero backbone, have you? I don’t know why I married you.” Lisa turned to Paul and said, “We’ve noticed a mark on your hand. Were you bitten when you went out there?”

  Paul lowered his head by an inch. “Um ... yeah.”

  “Look, we don’t know whether this thing can be caught from bite to bite, but we don’t want to take the risk,” Lisa said.

  “I understand.” Paul’s face was blank with emotion.

  “We’re giving you two choices. You can either stay in a locked room for the remainder of the day, just to make sure you don’t turn. Or you can leave right now.”

  “Lisa,” Melvin snapped in his wife’s ear. “The guy has a knife and he killed two of those things.”

  “I do have a knife,” said Paul, overhearing what Melvin had said to his other half. “And those things, as ya say, are still people. I could hear them breathin’ as they went for me. I had no choice. It was either them or me. I didn’t want to kill them.”

  “We’re sorry for the ultimatum, Paul,” Melvin began to explain. “But we’re a bit scared. Nobody knows what’s going on?”

  Paul then began to break down. With his elbows on his thighs and his head in his hands, he began to sob.

  Melvin and Lisa stood awkwardly, occasionally looking at one another, waiting for Paul to stop. The married couple were unsure what to do, so they uncomfortably gazed at the broken young man, waiting for him to stop crying.

  “Well … this is a bit uncomfortable,” Melvin whispered to his wife.

  “When’s he gonna stop?” she whispered back. “He’s starting to get on my fucking nerves.”

  “Hours ago, I was just a normal guy, goin’ to a party after the nightclub,” Paul spoke, beginning to get some composure back. “And now this is happenin’.”

  Lisa cleared her throat. “I know what you mean,” she joked. “Imagine how I felt when I woke up after my wedding night.”

  Melvin turned to his wife and snapped, “Is there really any need for that? You said it was the best day of your life.”

  “That was years ago I said that.” Lisa snickered and added, “Anyway, I’m just trying to cheer him up, you dafty.”

  “I enjoyed my wedding night,” Melvin continued, a little hurt by his wife’s comment.

  “Of course you did,” Lisa huffed. “You drank your bodyweight of alcohol. You were too drunk to get it up, and I had to give myself a good finger blasting on the bed while you were snoring next to me.”

  Paul looked up to the couple, confusion scrawled on his face, and had now stopped his sobbing. He wiped his eyes and cleared his throat, and then asked Melvin and Lisa a question many had asked over the years. “Why are ya two still married?”

  “I’m waiting for her to die,” Melvin said with a straight face. “And then I can live the rest of my life in peace, drink as much as I want without being judged, and bang munters from these dating websites that are available.”

  “So what’s it gon
na be?” Lisa asked Paul, ignoring the comment made by her husband.

  “Sorry?” Paul shook his head, and was still baffled why these two people were still together.

  “Are you gonna go into another room, so we can lock you in?” said Lisa. “Just to be on the safe side.”

  Paul Newbold looked at the bite. It was just a graze and it wasn’t bleeding, but he could understand their concern. It was good of Melvin not to kick him out in the first place.

  Paul gave off a thin smile and said, “I’ll need somethin’ to eat and drink before I go up. And ya need to let me run this bite under the tap. A bandage won’t be necessary. The skin’s broken, but I’m hardly bleedin’ to death.”

  “Done.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Demi, Craig and Tony all phoned home, with what little battery they had left, but received no answer. John Junior asked the three of them if they wanted to use his phone charger, but only Demi had the same make of phone as the youngster. Demi had accepted his request, but Tony and Craig were going to have to wait until they got home, whenever that would be.

  After a couple of minutes, Helen Jameson asked the three if they wanted a hot beverage and all opted for coffee. Neither three had managed sleep yet, and John could see that they looked exhausted.

  “Look, guys,” John began. “After your coffee, maybe you should get your head down for a few hours. You’re not going anywhere for the time being, so what do you say?”

  All three nodded, exhausted, and knew the coffee that Helen was about to bring in wasn’t going to make any difference, as far as their sleeping was concerned. They needed to sleep and their bodies ached for it. John decided to step in.

  “Cancel the coffee.” John called into the kitchen where Helen was. “These guys are gonna nap in the guest room.” He then turned to the three of them. “Right?"

  Demi, Tony and Craig nodded, and were all clearly exhausted.

  All three stood up and walked with tired feet to the landing. John told them which door the spare room was behind and watched as Demi walked behind the two males. John and his son couldn’t help but look at the back of Demi as the three headed into the room.