by G G Garcia
“This is madness.” Paul shook his head. “We should be stayin’ in, not goin’ out on some wild goose chase.”
“I know,” said Mel. “But Gail is a terrific lady, and the thought of her being alone, especially with what’s happening now...”
“Waste of time, if ya ask me,” Paul moaned and began to drag his feet. His eyes were stinging, and once he did eventually fall asleep, he guessed that he would probably sleep for a day.
Mel shook his head. “Then why didn’t you just stay behind?”
“I’d rather take my chances with the IOs than stay alone with ya missus.” Paul placed his hand over his mouth once he realised what he had just said.
“The IOs.” Melvin sighed. “Is that what you’re calling them now?”
“It’s what the media call them,” said Paul. “The IOs. The infected ones.”
“One channel called them Savs.”
“Anyway.” Paul cleared his throat and could see a name tattooed on Melvin’s left wrist. This had been the first time he had seen this, but couldn’t make out the word of the tattoo. “No offence about what I said about ya wife.”
“None taken,” Mel laughed. “Try living with the woman. I wake up every morning, hoping that she’s died in her sleep.”
Paul laughed, knowing that Melvin wasn’t entirely serious with his dark comment, and had to ask, “If that’s the way ya feel, why not split up?”
“Dunno.” Mel shrugged his shoulders. “You could ask her the same question about me. I think you’ll find that the feeling I have about her is mutual.”
“I gathered that.”
Melvin pointed up ahead, after clearing a bend, and announced that the cottage on the right hand side of the road was Gail’s place. Both men’s steps reduced in speed as they got nearer to the planned destination, and they both clasped their weapons with a clammy hand.
They stopped as soon as they reached the front door. The house had no front garden, a bit like Melvin’s place, and the main door was situated near the path and just a couple of yards away from the main road.
“Wit do ya reckon?” a nervous Paul asked. “Ya wanna start around the back?"
Mel shook his head and took a step back, inspecting the house. The windows were intact, and the main door looked like it hadn’t been damaged.
“Let’s try the traditional way, shall we?" Mel said.
He cleared his throat and knocked on the green wooden door three times.
Mel lowered his hammer and waited patiently, whereas Paul was on tenterhooks and raised the knife, expecting the worst-case scenario. They could both hear movement behind the door and Mel shuffled a few inches to the left, making sure he was in line with the spy hole that Paul hadn’t noticed before.
The door opened and a woman burst out and wrapped her arms around Mel, taking Paul by surprise. Mel looked embarrassed, cleared his throat, and said to the woman that he had company, referring to Paul. The woman was in tears, and released her grip on Mel, and took a step backwards and looked at Paul.
The twenty-four-year-old gave the woman a smile, could see that she was in her forties, and had dark bobbed hair. She was a shapely woman, and very pretty in the face.
“Pack some things,” Mel said to the woman. “You’re coming back with us.”
“I don’t know, Mel.” She wiped her eyes and flashed Paul a quick look, wondering who he was. “It’s a bit awkward.”
“Awkward?” Paul decided to butt in. “How?”
“Look,” Mel sighed, ignoring Paul’s short remark. “Just do it, Gail. I’m not gonna take no for an answer.”
“Okay.” She sighed and told the two males to come inside.
They did as she requested, and as Paul shut the main door, Gail Melrose ran upstairs.
Mel told Paul to stay where he was, and then followed Gail. Paul thought that Melvin was acting strange, but decided to keep his mouth shut. He waited impatiently for the two to return to the ground floor, and could see Melvin trotting down the stairs with a rucksack over his shoulder. Gail was following, empty-handed.
“Anything else you need, before you go?” Melvin asked her.
Gail placed her finger on her lips and had a think.
“No rush,” Paul said with sarcasm. Melvin picked up on it, and flashed Paul a glare.
“I think that’s it,” she said, and then began reeling off what was in the bag, in fine detail: Underwear, toothbrush, tampons, hairbrush, house keys, and some T-shirts.
The three adults left the house with quick feet. Paul led the way, whilst Melvin and Gail hung back and were quietly chatting.
It took a matter of minutes to reach Melvin and Lisa’s house, and Lisa opened the door before Paul had a chance to knock it.
“Better hurry the fuck up and get in,” she said, and practically dragged Paul, Melvin and Gail inside, before shutting the door.
“What’s the matter, woman?” Mel shrugged off his wife’s grip and added, “You nearly pulled my arm out of my socket.”
“Never mind that, dick face,” she spoke. Lisa then smiled, gave her friend Gail a quick hug, and said further, “There’s about six of those things coming our way. I saw them from our back bedroom.”
“How do you know it’s them?”
“How many people go out for a run on a Sunday morning, wearing dressy clothes?”
Melvin urged the other three to enter the kitchen and wait a few minutes until the danger had passed. Minutes had passed and eventually the faint sound of feet could be heard going by and not one person spoke until there was complete silence.
“Oh.” Lisa Leslie cleared her throat and said, “By the way, Melvin, we have no electricity.”
“What do you mean?”
Lisa shrugged her shoulders and said once more, “We have no electricity. My phone is also not working, and God knows what’s gonna happen to the water.”
“Shit,” Paul spoke up, and had ceased the bickering between Mel and Lisa temporarily.
“What is it?” Mel asked him, and could see that Paul was gazing out of the kitchen window, out onto the back garden.
“There’s an IO in your back garden.”
“A what?” Lisa scratched her head and looked at her husband. “What’s this prick talking about?”
Paul pointed out of the window and Melvin, Gail and Lisa stood next to him.
For minutes they remained quiet, until Lisa decided to speak up.
She murmured, “What in blue fuck are we gonna do now?”
Chapter Thirty-Two
John Jameson wandered over to the living room window and pulled the curtains back by a couple of inches. John Junior was in one of the bedrooms, helping his mother pack a case. Demi and Tony sat on the sofa, staring at the carpet in disbelief.
“Jesus Christ in Heaven,” moaned Demi, noticing the look of horror on John Jameson’s face. “What is it now?"
“About half a dozen of the IOs going by.” John looked over at Demi and Tony and gave them both a wink. “Don’t worry. They’ll be gone by the time we leave this place.”
“I fuckin’ hope so, man,” said Tony.
“When we’re gone, keep your shittin’ heads down and don’t be seen,” John warned. The pub owner thought about David Billingham. He was a seventy-six-year-old punter that used to be a regular at his pub, even more so when David's wife had passed away after suffering an aneurysm.
“Shame our phones are fucked,” Demi huffed and ran her fingers through her curly hair. “I know you said you’d be leaving plenty of food, but does that include the food in your pub kitchen?”
“We’re leaving a lot of stuff. Don’t worry.” John continued to watch outside and added, “My sister has an excellent set-up. I did ask if she could put up more people…”
“You’ve done more than enough, man,” said Tony. “Besides, I need to get Paul back.”
John moved away from the window and told Tony and Demi that the six infected were now gone.
Helen walked into the living r
oom, with a rucksack on her back. John Junior was behind her, also carrying a bag.
“I think that’s it,” she said to her husband. “I think I’ve packed everything: Shoes, toothbrushes, deodorants.”
“Did you put in my pack of Trojans?” John laughed.
“What’s that?” their son asked.
Helen rolled her eyes and said to her son, “Forget it. It’s your dad trying to be funny.”
John Jameson went over to Tony and Demi, and wished them all the luck in the world. He told them to look after his pub and that he’d be back as soon as it was safer.
“There’s food in the kitchen and in the one downstairs,” Helen spoke to a frightened Demi and Tony. “Eat the dairy and fruit first. Obviously, there’s plenty to drink and the cellar by the bar has soft drinks and wines. And the one underneath the bar has stuff as well.”
“You can’t live off sodas for weeks on end,” John jumped in, “so run a bath. The water will be next to go if they’re trying to kill us all.”
“You really think that?” Tony was unsure whether John was being paranoid, or he really was onto something.
“The power going is no accident,” John said with a groan. “The most basic duty of a government is to protect its people. Its role is to defend the country from outside forces, as well as from inside. This shit has happened in the middle of the UK, and they need to do something. If this was a proper apocalyptic situation, we’d still have power for a week or so. One day, just one, and it goes.” He clicked his fingers. “Something’s wrong.”
Demi shook her head and screwed her face. “Maybe the whole country will get infected with these things.”
“Let’s shittin’ hope not. We’d be even more screwed if that happened.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Imagine the whole of the UK eventually succumbed to this …whatever it is,” John began. “Once people evacuated in their thousands, thanks to boats and aviation, and the political leaders left the country, what’s stopping outside powers from nuking this diseased island? That’s what we are. We are a large island, and if wiping us off the map helps to protect the other six billion on the planet, then that’s what’ll happen. A word of advice: I know I’ve mentioned this before, but if you see any army personnel, hide, don’t engage with them.”
John Jameson gave Tony the spare key and followed his family down the stairs.
“I’ll lock the door once I’ve left the place,” John said. “And don’t forget to run a bath.”
Tony and Demi slowly made their way to the ground floor. The door was locked by the time they were in the lounge. They looked at one another, and then around the empty, dusky pub.
“Now what?” Demi asked him.
Tony hunched his shoulders and said, “Not sure. Now that Craig has buggered off with Paul’s motor, it’s left us with less options.” Tony walked over to one of the windows of the lounge and peered out from the curtains, staring at the jeep as it eventually disappeared over the bridge. He released the curtain and went back over to Demi.
“Is that it?”
“Well, what do you want me to say, man? I’ve never been in this situation before. One minute I had left a nightclub and went to some drab party, where most people were smoking dope. And the next, I see a girl, your friend, eaten by some crazy fucker, and it’s slowly dawning that we could be at the start of some kind of apocalyptic situation.”
“I hope my two brothers are okay,” Demi murmured.
“And I have an eighteen-year-old sister in Bristol.” Tony blew out a breath and lowered his head. “She hasn’t answered any of my texts from before. There’s nothing any of us can do right now.”
“I suppose.”
“I’ll probably spend the rest of the day peering out of the windows, making sure the place is safe, and see if Paul turns up. But I’ll tell you what.”
“What?” Demi asked.
“As soon as the evening comes, I’m getting drunk.”
“Isn’t that a bit silly, considering the situation we’re in.”
“Maybe.” Tony nodded and had a quick scan around the lounge area of the pub. “But we’re stuck in a pub, fannying about. May as well make the best out of a bad situation.”
*
David Morton had been sick in the male toilets. He had no idea if it was the produce he had taken from the vending machine, or if it was the situation he was in. Maybe it was both. The attack on his daughter twisted his stomach every time he thought about it, and the guilt he felt was incredible.
In hindsight he should have stayed where he was, in his home, at least then Lyla would have been safe and not exposed to the horror that was happening in the area.
His feet moved towards the desk where he worked. The window that looked out onto the Wolseley Road and pub. For the second time he could hear the sound of an engine, and gasped when he saw the black jeep of the Jamesons leaving the car park.
He shook his head with confusion.
Why leave a place like this? he thought.
It was their home and a place that was solid, a place that had an abundance of supplies. It didn't make sense.
“Must have had a better offer.”
David watched as the jeep went over the bridge and disappeared around the bend. He felt no malice towards the father of the family, despite what had happened a while back.
People were out there getting killed and David had no idea if he was next.
He folded his arms and continued to gaze out at the pub. He could see the curtain of one of the lounge windows moving. Somebody else was in there, but whom? He could have sworn he saw three people. He knew they had a son, so who was the person or persons in the pub?
He looked down on his shirt and could see the blood. He needed to get changed. He released a sigh and broke down.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Melvin, Lisa, Gail and Paul continued to stare out of the kitchen window, and not one word was said for two and a half minutes. Paul flashed Mel a look, and then Gail and Lisa did the same.
“What are you lot staring at?” Mel asked, but was never given an answer.
Mel already knew the reason why they were looking at him. He was the man of the house. It was his duty to remove the danger from his premises.
“Well?” Lisa huffed, looking at her husband, and then down to the hammer that he was holding. “Are you gonna get rid of it, or what?”
Mel tried to answer his wife, but stammered with his answer.
“Spit it out, you stuttering prick,” Lisa huffed. “Are you going to be a man for once, or do you need to get drunk first?”
“I’ll do it,” Paul spoke up. He was confused by Lisa’s ramblings, but it wasn’t the time to question her.
“Um…” Mel scratched his head and knew he had to get this out of the way. He couldn’t let a stranger embarrass him in front of his wife and Gail. “No, I’ll do it. It’s my house.”
“I’ve killed these before,” said Paul. “I’ll do it.”
“No,” Mel sighed. “I’m gonna have to get my first one out of the way.”
“You do realise these are real people,” Gail said. “They’re not things, or the undead, or... These are living, breathing people. You’ll be murdering a person.”
“I know,” Mel sighed. “But we can’t leave that infected male in our garden. If he sees us, he won’t hesitate and attack the house to get to us. Whether we like it or not, Gail, he has to go.”
Mel began to take in deep breaths and was using this technique as a way of diluting his nerves, but it wasn’t working. He looked down on his hammer that was being clenched by his right clammy and shaky hand, and nodded at the back door, instructing Paul to unlock it with the key that was already in it.
Paul had interpreted Mel’s nod correctly and went for the door. He placed his hand on the door handle and looked at the owner of the house. “Are ya sure about this?”
Mel nodded, but it wasn’t one filled with confidence.
Paul unlocked the door and said to Mel, “I’ll come out with ya, as back up.”
Mel blew out a long breath. “Okay.” He felt a little less tense knowing that he was going to have company.
Melvin went back to the kitchen window to see where the IO was, and was relieved that it was at the end of the garden, giving him time to prepare for the attack.
“Ready?” Paul asked him.
“Open it,” he instructed Paul.
Paul did as he was told and Mel stepped outside with Paul following behind. Paul closed the door behind him and could see that Mel was nervous.
“It’s not that bad,” he said to Mel.
“But it’s an actual person I’m going to kill.”
“Would ya prefer the hammer, or ya can use the knife ya gave me?”
Mel never answered Paul. He released a huff and began to stroll towards the being.
The infected male looked up, and Mel and Paul could see its bloodshot eyes from where they were standing. It threw its leg back, like a sprinter ready for a race, and ran at Mel. Mel stopped moving and gulped hard as the intruder got closer with frightening pace. Mel brought the hammer back and at the last second he jumped to the right, dodging the infected being’s grasps.
It ignored Paul and turned around, facing Mel. The male was panting and paused for a few seconds, and then ran again. With two hands, Mel swiped at the attacker, but the hammer flew out of his sweaty hands and it bounced off the kitchen window.
The infected grabbed Mel by the throat with both hands and both males fell to the floor. Mel cried out in panic, and put his hands under the chin of the attacker that was on top of him, knowing that it wanted to rip out his throat. The male snarled and gnashed, frustrated that the potential victim was making things difficult for him. Mel knew that the contaminated person on top of him was stronger, and that he couldn’t hold him off for much longer.
Mel tried to cry out, wondering where the fuck Paul was. Was he just standing there, watching? Or had he gone inside?
The male on top of him suddenly jerked forwards, paused for a second, and then collapsed to the side and onto the grass. Mel moved along the grass a few yards, moving away from the body, and then looked up to see Paul standing in front of him.
