by Hatchett
ASDA Supermarket, Mile End Road, East London
Mamba surveyed the group standing in front of him. Ahmed stood next to him but slightly behind, and they could both now hear the gnashing and clicking of teeth of many zombies from the other side of the barricade.
The young man was still in a foetal position on the floor, being tended to by what Mamba assumed was his mother and a couple of other women.
“One of ya might wanna use the pole,” Mamba indicated the pole sitting on the floor and the noise of the zombies behind him.
One of the men who had helped rescue the young man tentatively stepped forward and Mamba nodded that he could continue. “Rest of you sit down,” he ordered.
The man took the pole and moved to the barricade and started stabbing the zombies in sight, all the time under the watchful eye of Ahmed.
“What do you want?” one of the seated men asked. He was middle aged, with short dark hair and an air of superiority which Mamba instantly disliked. It was this man who had nodded when Mamba ordered them to drop their weapons, so he assumed he was the leader.
“I’m the one askin’ the questions,” he replied, “and if ya lie, ya die. Understood?”
Mamba pointed to another man sitting in the group and indicated that he should come and sit on his own nearby. The leader watched with interest, not sure what was going on.
“Right, question number 1,” Mamba began. “Is this all of ya or are there others lurkin’ around?”
“This is it,” the leader replied.
Mamba turned to the man sitting on his own, raised his gun and shot him in the head. The man slumped over, blood pouring from the wound and pooling like a large red liquid lake, spreading with every second.
The sound of the shot echoed around the store as a couple of women screamed and a number of mouths hung open in shock.
“Uh, Uhhh,” Mamba made the sounds usually associated with gameshows when the wrong answer was given. “Wrong answer.”
The leader had gone as white as a sheet. He never for one moment thought that this animal would follow through with his threats. He believed that the more he kept from the two newcomers, the more chance they would have to gain the upper hand. That had all pretty much disappeared with one fatal shot.
“Let’s try again, shall we?” Mamba pointed to an older woman in the group and indicated that she should move to a place close to the dead guy. She must have been in her seventies at least, with grey hair and a slightly stooped posture.
“Tell him what he wants to know John, or I’ll tell him myself,” she said as she made her way across to her new position.
“Yes, John,” Mamba mimicked, “betta tell me what I wanna know or Grandma gets it. So, I repeat, is this all of ya or are there others lurkin’ around?”
“There are others,” John quickly replied.
Mamba waited.
“Is that all ya have ta say John?” Mamba asked. “I can see Grandma is gonna be takin’ over as leader in the very near future if it is.”
“There’s two more somewhere around,” John advised.
Mamba saw a couple of the people in the group close their eyes but waited to see how this would play out. “OK, John, betta call ‘em over.”
John stood up and turned towards the middle of the store. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Daryl, Jenny, you better come and join us.”
Mamba waited and heard footsteps approaching. A few seconds later a youngish man around his mid-twenties and a young woman appeared from one of the rows. They walked across to the group and sat down towards the back.
“Welcome Daryl,” Mamba said cordially, “and a special welcome to Jenny.” Mamba gave her a beaming smile and appraising look. Jenny could only have been about twenty and five feet four inches tall with jet black hair, dark eyes and a Mediterranean look. Her hair rested just above her shoulders and probably would have been in a bob if she’d been able to wash and dry it properly. Instead it was straight and straggly, and with her tanned skin, made her look sultry in an abandoned kind of way. The effect was even more startling when Mamba noticed her large dark eyes with long eyelashes and designer eyebrows peeking out from just beneath a fringe. Mamba just loved that bird from the Underworld films and this girl was just a darker version.
Daryl was a few inches taller, so around five feet eight inches tall. He also had black hair, black eyes and was also lean and tanned; he looked like one of them slick Italian stallions, the sort of smooth, irritating bird-magnet that Mamba disliked so much. Too fuckin’ greasy for his liking; all the guy needed was some gel or wax in his hair and a couple of medallions ‘round his neck and he’d be the perfect ponce. Mind, nothing wrong with a bit of bling; just had to be worn the right way.
Mamba wondered if they’d recently come back from holiday or if they originated from somewhere around the Mediterranean, but with names like Jenny and Daryl he suspected the former. He also wasn’t sure whether they were brother and sister or boyfriend and girlfriend, but there was plenty of time to sort out that little issue.
John was about to sit back down when Mamba said, “I think ya should stay standin’, John. A leader should always stand up for his people.”
John looked uncertain, but stayed on his feet, watching Mamba warily.
“See, we’re gettin’ along fine now that you’re tellin’ me the truth. You are tellin’ me the truth aren’t ya John?”
John started nodding his head rapidly, “Of course I am.”
“Jenny. Come sit here next to me,” Mamba ordered.
Jenny looked around, as if searching for help.
“Come on, come on, we ain’t got all day!” Mamba shouted.
Jenny reluctantly got to her feet, and Mamba noticed her hand releasing Daryl’s as she did so. Mamba still couldn’t be sure if Daryl was the boyfriend or brother, or maybe they were just good friends, or friends with benefits.
Jenny stepped past a couple of people and walked towards Mamba. She was shorter than him, which he liked. He couldn’t be doing with them tall lanky bitches where he had to strain his neck to look them in the face, but on the other hand, having their tits in his face was an acceptable compromise. When she was close enough, Mamba grabbed her with his right hand, spun her around and hugged her to his body so she was facing the group the same as him. He then slowly moved his hand until it was cupping her left breast, all the time looking straight at Daryl, waiting to see if there would be any reaction. Daryl looked down, refusing to watch.
Mamba was still unsure. Jenny had closed her eyes and a couple of silent tears were tracing a path down her face.
“Is Daryl yer boyfriend?” he whispered in her ear, before licking her earlobe. Jenny shook her head.
“Brother?” Mamba whispered. There was a slight nod. This made Mamba happy. Very happy. He didn’t have any competition, not that he would have been bothered if he had. Just nice to know, that’s all. Unless one of these other pricks were her boyfriend.
“Do ya have a boyfriend here?” Mamba whispered. Again, there was a slight shake of the head and Mamba grinned like he’d won the lottery. He let go of her and told her she could go and sit back down. He watched her go, and saw her and Daryl hugging each other, before he reverted his attention back to John.
“Where were we?” Mamba mused, taking a couple of steps forward. “Oh yeah, we were talkin’ ‘bout the truth.” He pointed his gun at John’s head and pulled the trigger. Unlike the other guy he’d shot, the bullet exited the back of John’s head, taking with it blood, bone and brain which splattered over the group behind as John’s body slumped to the ground.
“Must’ve had a softer head,” Mamba suggested, before walking back to his original position.
Mamba looked to the older woman sitting on her own. “You’re up Grandma. Don’t disappoint me.” He indicated that she could go back to the group.
When she got there, she turned back to face Mamba and waited.
“You can sit down,” Mamba advised.
<
br /> “But I thought you wanted the leader to stand up?”
“I did, but yer a lady and I don’t wanna shoot ya…yet. Will all depend on how reliable ya turn out to be.”
The woman sat down.
“Now, I’ll ask ya the same question I asked good ‘ol John there. It’s a very important question. After all, it cost John his life and I can’t think of anythin’ more important than that, can ya? So, is this all of ya or are there others lurkin’ around?”
Mamba watched the group carefully and again spotted some eyes being closed and heads raised skywards as if praying that Grandma wouldn’t do something stupid and cause more deaths. They were so fuckin’ obvious it was untrue. He’d have loved to play these arseholes at poker, he’d have made a fortune.
“Yes, there are more.” She looked up and shouted, “You better all come out! There’s been enough deaths for one day.”
Mamba waited and eventually five more people arrived and went to sit with the group. The newcomers included Mr ‘Hawaiian shirt’ and what he thought was the woman he’d been with.
Mamba eyed the group before focusing back on Grandma. “Are ya sure that’s all?” he asked as he gazed at the others again, but this time there was no obvious reaction.
“Yes, that’s all.”
“Nice one, Grandma, I believe ya,” Mamba commended her.
He turned to the group. “You with the Hawaiian shirt. Stand up.”
The guy stood up, looking very worried.
“Not fuckin’ laughin’ now are ya?”
The guy was confused for a few seconds before it dawned on him what Mamba was talking about and his eyes automatically looked towards the window he had been looking through a little while earlier.
“Ya wanna be careful who ya laugh at,” Mamba cautioned. “It could cost ya yer life.”
The man went pale as Mamba indicated he should sit down. Mamba was beginning to get bored.
“Jenny.” She looked up with a worried look on her face. “You and Daryl go get me and my buddy some food and some beer. Don’t waste my time tryin’ anythin’ or you’ll seriously regret it. Won’t be no easy bullet to the head either.”
“W-what would you like?” Jenny asked hesitantly.
“Whatever. Get a selection in a trolley.”
Jenny and Daryl got up and walked off.
Mamba turned to check Ahmed was OK and watched the guy with the pole for a few seconds before walking across to him.
“Give me the pole,” he ordered.
The man quickly gave Mamba the pole and stepped back. Mamba looked through the gap, spotted a zombie and speared it like a fish. He pulled the pole back in and gave it back to the man. “I like it,” Mamba said with a smile before walking back to his original position and sat down on the floor. He beckoned Grandma across and she rose, moved over towards Mamba and sat back down next to him.
“I hope ya realise Grandma, that I wouldn’t hesitate in killin’ every single one of ya if ya piss me off anymore. I might have a bit of fun with one or two of the girls first, like Jenny, if ya get my drift. So, it’s up to ya now.”
Grandma nodded, in no doubt at all that Mamba meant what he said. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know, but please, you must do something for me first.”
Mamba looked at her and waited for her to go on.
“If I tell you what you want, will you promise me that you and your friend won’t hurt any more of us?”
Mamba considered the request, pulling various faces as he weighed up the pros and cons of his answer. “Can’t do it,” he eventually replied. “Someone like Hawaiian shirt might piss me off and I’d jus’ have ta kill ‘em. But what I will say is that you’ll be safe if ya do as I say and don’t piss me off. How’s that sound? We won’t be here long anyway. Places to go, people to see and all that.”
“OK, good enough. What do you want to know?”
“How many men have you fucked in yer life?”
The woman laughed, real belly laughs, with tears forming in her eyes. It was the last thing she expected to hear, and it had come out of nowhere. She suspected Mamba was very, very good at putting people completely off balance and of course, he was completely unpredictable, as she had seen earlier. She briefly wondered what sort of life he’d had to end up how he was. She suspected that he’d lived in a dog-eat-dog world and it was a case of survival of the fittest. Well, he was still here wasn’t he? And not just hiding in a supermarket but walking around amongst the zombies.
“Too fucking many to count,” she eventually replied, “and most of them were nasty bastards like you.”
Mamba laughed. “Tell me your story.”
Grandma spent the next hour or so detailing how they all came to be holed up in the supermarket and what they hoped to do going forwards. During the chat, Jenny and Daryl arrived back with the food and drinks and more of the group gathered around to listen and chip in to the story. By the end, they were all sitting on the floor in the group, drinking, eating and chatting easily. Even the young lad who’d been scared to death earlier had come around a bit – and he’d changed his wet pants. Mamba found to his surprise that he liked Grandma; she was a game ‘ol bird, he’d give her that.
Once the ‘supermarketeers’ as he thought of them had finished with their tale, Mamba told them some of what he and Ahmed had been up to, avoiding any mention of the Tower of London or Heathrow, skirting many incidents and only providing half-truths for others. After all, he’d learnt at a very young age to keep the really important stuff to yourself.
He and Ahmed gave the group a few pointers on how to blend with the zombies, and the group gradually disbursed as the conversation began to run dry.
At one point Mamba told Ahmed that he’d be back in a few minutes before disappearing through the gap in the barricade.
“Where’s he going? Grandma asked in surprise.
“I’ve got a good idea,” Ahmed replied. “Mamba is still a kid at heart.”
“Dangerous kid,” Grandma remarked.
“Fuckin’ lethal,” Ahmed agreed.
Mamba came back a short while later with a shit-eating grin spread all across his face. “Come and look,” he encouraged Ahmed and Grandma as he set off past all the deserted cashier lanes towards the windows.
They got up and followed to where Mamba was waiting and followed his direction to see ‘EREH SAW ABMAM’ on the window. Grandma was confused until Ahmed explained what it meant and that they were on the wrong side of the window to see it properly.
They went for a wander around the store, Mamba taking great delight in the kiddie aisle where he found a football and booted it down the aisle before picking up a pump action water pistol and discarding it almost as quickly. He found some Halloween masks and had to try a number of them on before he found a CD player, some batteries then went in search of the CDs. He couldn’t find much he liked but eventually came across a heavy metal compilation CD and put it in the machine before blasting out ‘Highway to Hell’ by AC/DC at the highest volume.
At one point, Mamba spotted Jenny and his childlike smile disappeared to be replaced by one that was far more cunning, like an animal sniffing out its prey. Grandma had seen the look on his face and managed to steer him in another direction and he quickly forgot all about it.
It wasn’t much longer before Mamba began to lose interest in his surroundings. “Time to go, Ahmed,” he ordered as he dropped a t-shirt he’d been admiring and started marching towards the exit.
Ahmed and Grandma struggled to keep up and were almost out of breath by the time they reached the barrier. The fit-looking guy with the pole was still on duty, although he’d obviously managed to clear the area around the outside of the barricade.
“Good luck, Mamba, God be with you,” Grandma shouted as Mamba headed for the gap.
“You too Grandma,” he shouted over his shoulder and disappeared from view. “See ya soon.”
‘Bloody hope not’, she thought to herself. She didn’t normally swear
but that was twice in a short period of time. Or was it three times? She had the feeling that Mamba brought out the worst in everyone.
Ahmed patted Grandma on the arm and said ‘thanks’ before jogging to catch up with Mamba.
The fit guy with the pole wandered across to Grandma. “That is one seriously mental dude,” he commented.
“You’re not wrong,” she replied. “But he’s the sort to survive in this new world of ours, so we need to learn from people like him and adapt, or we’ll just end up like those poor things out there.”
14
Day 9 – 13:30
ASDA Supermarket, Mile End Road, East London
By the time Ahmed had climbed through the gap in the barricade and straightened up, Mamba was already twenty metres away.
Zombies were heading in their direction, attracted by the noise of Motorhead playing ‘Ace of Spades.’ A couple of seconds later the music was turned off and all went quiet.
Ahmed jogged to catch up with Mamba and asked, “what now?”
“We get ourselves some wheels,” Mamba replied, looking through the side window of an empty Ford Focus. The door was locked.
They looked around and Ahmed pointed out a Fiat 500 a couple of rows away.
“That’s a fuckin’ girl’s car,” Mamba pointed out.
“So fuckin’ what? It’s got it’s keys in it and has four wheels.”
“How’d ya know it’s got keys from here clever dick?”
“’Cos there’s a fuckin’ zombie in the driver’s seat.
“Eh?” Mamba asked, confused.
“The empty ones mean the people got away, probably takin’ the keys with ‘em. The ones still in the car haven’t taken the keys anywhere.
“Good thinkin’ Batman,” Mamba said. “Wait a minute, I’m Batman, you’re Robin. Good thinkin’ Robin.” He paused. “Doesn’t sound right for some reason.”
“That’s ‘cos Batman usually figures it out and Robin says, ‘Good thinkin’ Batman’.”
“Glad, we’ve got that sorted,” Mamba replied as he headed for the car.
Mamba strolled up casually, opened the door, stabbed the female driver in the head, undid the safety belt and hauled the body out of the car. He then got in the seat, shut the door, was about to put the seatbelt on thinking ‘what the fuck am I doin’’ before looking to turn the ignition on. There were no keys.
