by G G Garcia
“Tony,” Craig called over to Anthony Willetts.
Tony looked up and screwed his face. “What is it, man?”
“I’m gonna go out and get some air. I also left my watch in the car,” he spoke, shaking his wrist. “It must have come off when Emma…”
Since they had arrived at the pub, Tony had Paul’s car keys in his pocket, keeping them safe, but had earlier given them to Craig because they were digging into the top of his leg. Craig knew that Tony and Demi had no intention of leaving just yet, and didn’t want to hang around another minute longer.
“What do you mean, mate? You can’t go out.”
Craig shifted awkwardly and cleared his throat. “I just need some air. I don’t feel well.”
This time John Jameson stepped in and looked over to Craig and said, “Are you out of your shittin’ mind?”
“Just let him out, John,” Tony said, looking over at Craig. “I’ll go with him.”
John Jameson sighed and shook his head. “It’s not happening. Any one of you three leaves this place, you leave for good. I’ve got my family to think of. I’m not letting people coming in and out like it’s a shittin’ hotel. And if the infected see you...”
“Fine,” Craig said, and then dropped his head.
Helen Jameson remained sat in her chair and had been texting for the last ten minutes. She looked up and gazed at her husband. He narrowed his eyes at her, asking if there was anything wrong. She gestured with her head for the two of them to have a private chat, away from the strangers, away from the living room.
John left the living room and Helen went after him, making their son and Demi suspicious. Craig then got to his feet, prompting Tony to ask where he was going.
“I’m gonna have another lie down,” Craig announced.
Craig stood up and shuffled his way out of the living room and onto the landing.
Demi was staring at her phone and Tony sat and looked over at John’s son.
John Junior wore black combats, boots, and had a black Nirvana ‘Bleach’ T-shirt on. The boy with the light brown hair was trying to act cool in this dire situation, but Tony could see that the youngster was nervous.
He said, “I suppose the good thing about this whole mess is that you won’t be at school after the holidays.”
The youngster gave Tony a thin smile and nodded. “I wonder how many pupils are still alive,” the fourteen-year-old spoke. “I can’t seem to get a hold of my friends on Facebook. They’re not even answering my texts.”
“I know it’s difficult,” Tony sighed, “but try not to worry about it for now.”
“At least I’m home, I suppose.”
“Exactly. I’m dying to get back home, but being here, in the middle of the countryside, is for the best until this thing filters away.”
“They say that most of the affected are cities in the West Midlands.”
“True.” Tony nodded. “Rugeley has a population of twelve thousand, so I’m guessing that my town has had its own episodes of this … whatever it is. I just wish I could get in contact with my family.”
“Not answering their texts?”
Tony shook his head. “Or their Facebook page. Don’t know what is going on.”
John and Helen Jameson returned from the kitchen, where they had been having a discussion. The pair of them stood by the living room and door, and Helen was the first one to speak.
“We have an announcement,” she said.
Before she could continue, John looked around the room and asked where Craig was.
“He’s just went for a lie down,” said Tony. “Do you want me to get him?”
“Yes, please.” John nodded the once.
Tony stood and quickly went into the spare room where the three of them had had a nap earlier on.
“What’s happening, dad?” John Junior looked unsettled, so he gave his son the short version. “Your mum has been in contact with Aunt Mary. Her and Uncle Bill have asked for us to join them, and me and your mum have decided that we’re going … now.”
“What do you mean?” Demi Mason spoke, scratching at her long curly hair. “Why would you want to leave this place? It’s perfect. And what about us?”
“My sister and her husband,” Helen began, “live at a farm, half a mile up the road. They have cattle, supplies, and, more importantly, they have guns.”
“This thing isn’t going to go away overnight,” John spoke up. “We need to be somewhere safer, away from the main roads.”
“Oh?” Demi looked crestfallen.
“I’m sorry.” John cleared his throat.
“Are we coming with you?” Demi almost begged.
“I’m sorry, but there isn’t room for another three.” John and Helen had a quick look at one another, and decided to tell Demi the truth. They hadn’t been invited.
“You guys can stay here,” said John. “We’ll be back … eventually. Just need to ride this thing out. The farm will be better for us.”
Tony appeared from the landing and stepped into the living room.
“Oh,” John said, once his eyes clocked Tony’s presence. “I was just saying to Demi—”
“Craig’s gone,” announced Tony. His face was ashen and he looked more annoyed than anything. “That bloody fanny.”
“What?” Both John and Demi yelled.
“He went out of the window.” Tony shook his head and his fists were clenched. “He’s taken Paul’s car. Honestly, that guy’s as slippery as an owl.”
Demi looked at Tony strangely after his comment, and then shook her head and bit her bottom lip in anger, almost breaking the skin. “What an arsehole.”
“Tell me about it,” Tony groaned. “Fucking prick.”
*
The monotony was killing David. He turned the radio off as the information spewing out of the speakers was becoming repetitive, and he walked around the office to stretch his legs. His stomach was grumbling for something to be dropped into it and decided to head to the vending machine. It was a typical office vending machine. It sold crisps and chocolate. He looked around for something heavy and picked up the fire extinguisher. He held it with both hands and rammed it into the glass, shattering it on his first strike. He removed some of the shards of glass that hung over and grabbed himself a packet of cheese and onion crisps and a chocolate bar. He ate the bar first and began to munch on the crisps.
His ears twitched when he picked up a sound and stopped crunching the crisps. He went to the left side of the building, and looked out. He could see the garden centre’s car park and the main road that ran by it, Rugeley Road.
The sound grew louder and David Morton’s eyes followed the black Corsa that was driving down the road from the right. It went past and moved away from the window once the car was out of view.
He went back over to his swivel chair and sat down. He bent over and put his head in his hands.
“Christ, I’m so bored.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
After finishing their coffee, Mel’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out. He read the text, and then placed the phone back into his pocket. Noticing Melvin’s bizarre behaviour, Paul Newbold asked Melvin Leslie if he was okay.
He nodded and said, looking at Lisa, “Gail has just texted me. She’s out of her mind with worry.”
“No wonder,” Lisa groaned. “Poor cow has had it rough over the last two years, and now this. What did she say?”
“Asking if we’re okay, and that she has spent the last hour watching the TV and crying.”
Baffled by the conversation, Paul asked, “Who’s Gail?”
“She lives a few hundred yards up the road, to our right,” Lisa began to explain. “She became a friend of ours.”
“Oh?” Paul sat back in the chair and prepared himself for some long-winded story by Lisa. She didn’t disappoint.
“I used to work for a biscuit factory in Hixon,” she began. “Gail’s the supervisor there, and when she got divorced we became good fri
ends. She then had a tragedy last year.”
Lisa paused and Paul asked, “Wit kind of a tragedy?”
“Gail’s son was killed.” Melvin decided to take over the story. “He had a few beers in Rugeley one night and, for whatever reason, he decided to walk the two miles back home. I don’t know whether he staggered on the road or not, but he was hit by a vehicle. His body was found, lying in the middle of the road.”
“Oh, dear,” Paul said, and his face went white as a sheet.
“It was bad enough when that young girl was killed, Kerry Gleeson, three years ago, said Lisa. “She was only seventeen. But when it happens to somebody you know, it's heartbreaking.”
“You okay?” Mel asked Paul. The young man looked uncomfortable and pale. “You look pale. Did you know him?”
Paul shook his head, but never responded with words.
Melvin continued, “Gail had been in pieces ever since, so Lisa and I check on her now and again.”
“She’s spent the last year hitting the bottle,” said Lisa. “And there was one incident where she tried to take an overdose. God knows what’s going through her mind now, with all this … shit that’s going on.”
“Shall I give her a ring?” Melvin asked his wife.
“No.” Lisa shook her head and pulled out her phone. “I’ll do it.”
Lisa placed her phone to her ear and decided to walk upstairs. Her voice could be heard from the landing and Melvin smiled at Paul, telling him, “Gail’s a lovely woman.”
Paul gave Melvin a thin smile and looked at the time. Jesus, it was dragging.
A silence enveloped the two men and they both listened to the muffled voice of Lisa. The conversation was short, and lasted no longer than a couple of minutes.
Paul and Mel had a quick gape at one another, but neither male spoke.
Lisa had stopped talking, and now both men could hear the sound of feet making their way to the ground floor, and Melvin’s wife had entered the living room. She had her phone in her pocket and placed her hands on her head, trying to think. Melvin had seen that look before, and knew Lisa didn’t like being distracted when she was thinking.
“Right, soppy bollocks.” She pointed over at Melvin.
“What is it?” Melvin tilted his chin, waiting for a response.
“I’m giving you a job to do.”
Melvin never responded verbally. He remained still, waiting for his wife to elaborate what she meant.
“I want you to get your arse over to Gail’s and bring her back here.”
“What?”
“I’m not leaving her there. She’s hysterical.”
“But…” Melvin shook his head. “Why don’t you go?”
“Just grow some balls, for God’s sake.” Lisa cussed and then pointed over to Paul. “If you don’t feel safe, take your little boyfriend with you.”
Chapter Thirty
Tony, Demi and John Jameson stepped outside once the landlord of the pub unlocked the main door. They didn’t go far, about a yard or so, and all three could see that the car park was clear of the infected. Paul’s car was gone, but John’s jeep was still there.
Tony shook his head and couldn’t believe what Craig had done. Selfish bastard!
“When are you going?” Tony asked the man.
“As soon as possible,” said John. “We’ll pack our bags and take some of the food from the kitchens.” He then flashed Tony and Demi a look. “We won’t take too much. We have plenty of crisps, peanuts, soft drinks and other shit. You don’t need to worry.”
“Well,” Tony said. “We’ll look after the place in your absence, but I’m not sure we’ll be here when you eventually come back.”
“Shall we go inside?” Demi asked.
Both males nodded and John was the first to go inside, followed by Tony, and then Demi. John waited for the two of them to enter the lounge area of the pub, and then locked the main door. He handed the key to Tony and told him that he had another spare attached to a set of keys for his jeep.
“What about the body in the cellar?” Tony quizzed the landlord. “I won’t be able to move that by myself.”
“What are you talking about?” Demi stepped in, wondering what Tony meant.
John reluctantly told Demi Mason the short version of having an infected person in his cellar and had decided to kill it … eventually. His wife knew nothing of this, and the landlord of the pub wanted to keep it that way.
“We’ll move the body now,” John said to Tony, and then looked to Demi. “Go upstairs, Demi. Tell the wife that Tony and I are fixing something.”
“Fixing what?” She screwed her face and hunched her shoulders.
“I dunno. Make something up.” John slapped Tony on the back and added, “I’ll throw the dead girl over my shoulders and climb up. Then we’ll carry her to the bank of the river.”
Tony nodded in agreement and the pair of them headed behind the bar as Demi made her way upstairs.
*
It was a hell of a struggle, but somehow John Jameson had managed to climb the ladders with the dead girl across his shoulders. As soon as he reached the top and was standing in the bar, he shrugged off the dead female and allowed her to hit the floor with a thump.
John tried to loosen his shoulders, by circling them, and told Tony to grab her arms. He was going to get the legs.
Only resting to allow John to unlock and open his main door, the two men carried the deceased female outside. Both sets of eyes looked around the car park, paranoid and wary of attackers, but they managed to dump the girl’s body by the riverbank with no incident. Tony thought it was crazy to remove the body, but John wanted rid of it. It was his pub, his decision. He had sworn to protect his family, and yet he had had an active IO in his cellar. Even with it now dead, he was certain that if Helen found out, she’d be more than annoyed that her husband had lied to her.
It wouldn’t have been the only secret he had kept from her.
John stood up straight and had a look around. He gazed over at his pub, the car park, then the river, and the countryside behind him. How did things get so fucked up?
“Um…” Tony was uncomfortable, standing at the back of the pub whilst John took in the scenery. “Ready when you are, John.”
John snapped out of his self-hypnosis and shook his head. He apologised to Tony for his mental wandering, and went back over to the body of the woman and pushed and rolled her into the river, using his foot.
The two males watched as the body was dragged away by the Trent’s mild current, and eventually drifted around the bend and out of view.
“Right.” John clapped his hands together, making Tony jump, and added, “Let’s go back.”
They stepped inside and Tony continued to walk through the lounge as John locked the door behind them. Tony trudged his way up the stairs and looked up to see Demi at the top. Something was wrong. He didn’t know her very well, but he could tell by her face that something had happened.
“What is it?” Tony asked her.
Now, John was making his way upstairs, at a quicker speed to Tony, and both men reached the landing when Demi spoke.
“Something has happened,” she said.
“What’s happened?” John thought at first that something had happened to Helen or his son.
“Nothing’s working anymore,” she said.
“What?”
“The power is out, and our phones don’t work anymore, as if they’ve been scrambled.”
“So the grid is down,” John sighed. “I told you that this was going to happen, didn’t I? If this was an apocalyptic situation and we were all affected, the power would still continue for a week or so.”
“How do you know all this?” Demi cried.
“He doesn’t,” Tony snapped. “He’s just guessing.”
“Remember that the army have been put in places like Solihull and Coventry,” John said. “I told you. A perimeter is being deployed around the centre of England. No one is going to be allowed to
leave. This infection started in the West Midlands, and the government wants to stop the infected people from travelling to other parts of the UK.”
“But why turn off the power and scramble our phones?” Demi asked, unsure whether John was correct with his theory, or he was just a stark raving lunatic.
“I dunno.” John hunched his shoulders and guessed, “Maybe it’s so we can’t show the rest of the UK and the world, by social media, what it’s like here? Maybe they’re going to tell the rest of the country that we’re doomed for. But if the likes of us start posting pictures or videos of children starving to death and people being left abandoned, some of the people outside the West Midlands might kick up a fuss and demand that the army should cross the border and help us. This would be followed by protests, riots—”
“You know that for sure?” Demi was captivated by John’s theory.
“Of course he doesn’t,” said Tony.
“You mark my shittin’ words, sunshine.” John pointed his finger at Tony.
“What makes you so sure?”
John shook his head. He had no idea. It was just a hunch.
“You have no idea,” Tony cackled, making John a little irate, and added, “You’ve been reading too much of that fanny Max Brooks.”
“Who?” Demi asked, but neither male answered.
“I’m telling you now. They’ve done this on purpose,” said John. “We’re being isolated.”
“No, we’re not."
“Yes, we shittin’ are.”
“Give it time,” said Tony. “We’ll be fine, man.”
“Nobody is gonna come and help us. We’re being left to die.”
Chapter Thirty-One
The two men left the house, turned right, and headed down the vacant road. Melvin Leslie, wearing black jeans, trainers, and his white round neck T-shirt with the words: Warning: Fart Loading, strolled nonchalantly. He was carrying a claw hammer for protection. By his side was a tired and sleep deprived Paul Newbold. He was still wearing black trousers, black shoes and a lemon shirt. He was carrying a steak knife and was in dire need of a change of clothing as he was beginning to smell.
