The Undead

The Second Week

Compilation Edition

Days Eight to Fourteen

RR Haywood

Copyright © R. R. Haywood 2013

R. R. Haywood asserts his moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

All Rights reserved.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters and events, unless those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead (or undead), is purely coincidental.

The Undead: Eight to Fourteen, have previously been published as a series.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Design, Cover and Illustration by Eddyart.

Day Fourteen edited by Rachael Brimstone.

* * * * *

DAY EIGHT

One

Day Eight

Friday

All around me is death.  We stand on the battle field, our small group now greatly diminished and try to absorb the shock of our terrible losses.  Tears stream down the faces of Cookey and Nick, making small clean trails down their blackened faces.  Blowers looking stony faced and hardened, stares down at the ground.  I look over and see Clarence resting his hands on the end of his double bladed axe, mine hangs limply down at my side.  I look down the shaft and see the still wet blood, gore and filthy pieces of once human body stuck to the blade.  Chris stands resolute as ever, feet planted apart and hands resting on his hips.  Only his face betrays the feelings of loss and exhaustion.

I look past them to the mounds of bodies and the now shambling undead still being hacked down.  The sight offends me; too much death has taken place here today.  Too much suffering.  But I know it must be done, and for the first time since this began I let someone else do it.  Let them take out their anger and hurt on those rotting walking corpses.  As I scan round my gaze comes to rest on Dave who is staring at me intently.  The two knives are now tucked back into his waistband and he stands easy, relaxed.  His breathing is already back under control, and other than the filth that encrusts him, as it does all of us, he looks the same as ever, apart from the puzzled expression on his face.

‘You alright Dave?’ I ask him.  He nods and turns his head away, but within seconds he glances back and stares again with that puzzled expression.

‘What?’ I exclaim, shrugging my shoulders.

‘Nothing,’ He looks quickly away again.

‘Dave?’ I ask him, something is on his mind, ‘what is it?’  He looks at me for long seconds, then repeats my actions and shrugs his shoulders.

‘Nothing, just tired Mr Howie,’ he says finally.  That’s a lie.  Dave doesn’t get tired, but I am, I am bone weary and I let it pass.  Whatever it is can wait until he’s comfortable enough to tell me.

‘What now?’ Clarence rumbles quietly.  I wait for Chris to respond, but he just stares out towards the area where Malcolm fell with Tucker and Curtis.

‘Clear the bodies, use those diggers maybe to scoop them up and burn them.  Other than that, we need to go after Darren, find where the boats went and bring them back.’ I say quietly.

‘I don’t know what your thoughts are Chris, but after what you did in the commune, I think you’re the best one to stay and run this,’ I add, looking over at him.  He nods back at me, making brief eye contact.

‘Okay,’ his voice is hoarse and deep.

‘Howie, if you want to go after Darren, I’ll go after the boats,’ Clarence offers, knowing I’ll be torn between the two.

‘You okay with that?’ I ask Dave.

‘Yes Mr Howie,’ he nods back at me.

‘Lads?’ I look to Blower’s, Cookey and Nick.

‘I’m with you,’ Blowers says flatly without shifting his gaze from the ground.

‘Me too,’ Cookey adds.

‘Nick?’

‘You don’t have to ask Mr Howie,’ he replies, his tear filled eyes locking onto mine with an intense look in them.

‘Okay,’ I address them all.  Nothing more needs to be said.  I turn and stare back towards the still smoking remains of the housing estate, blackened stumps of buildings poking up in irregular shapes.

‘We’ll find him,’ Dave says, giving voice to my thoughts.

‘We need to go then,’ I say.

‘Not now, he’s already dead and so will we be if we go anywhere near that estate for a few hours.  We’ll find him, he’ll leave a trail wherever he goes.’

I stare on, in silence.

‘Mr Howie, we need to clean ourselves up, take fluids and food and rest, we will find him,’ Dave steps forward, clearly intent on making me listen to him.

‘Okay,’ I say again, it’s about all I can manage right now.  I look round to see a woman striding towards us.  One by one we all turn to stare at her as she crosses the field, stepping over and on the bodies.

‘Who is that?’ I ask.

‘The engineer woman,’ Dave replies.

‘Kelly?’

‘I don’t know Mr Howie,’ Dave says.

‘Yes,’ Chris adds.

We stand and watch her walk towards us; her gait is strong and confident.  She holds a long bladed machete in her right hand.  She watches us watching her and she only stops when she’s a few metres away.

‘Gentlemen,’ she nods towards us.  Her voice is strong too.  We nod back, nobody speaks.

‘Are any of you injured?’ She asks, ‘Doctor Roberts sent me out to check.’ We shake our heads, mumble that we are unhurt.

‘Are there many injured?’ I ask.

‘Many,’ she nods, ‘ they’re stacked up.’

‘We’ll come and help,’ I step forward, she doesn’t move.

‘No you won’t, you’ve done enough.  All of you.  Go inside and rest, I’ll get things underway here.  I take it you want them all burned?’

‘Yes, but I don’t know how we’ll do it, dig pits I guess.  Or use the deep ditches and whatever fuel we’ve got left.’

‘Thank you Mr Howie, I’ll take it from here.  Now go inside.’ A command, not a request.  I look at Chris; he shrugs and starts walking towards the fort.  I shrug at Clarence and start to follow him.  We walk in silence, stepping over and on the bodies.   Taking a detour to avoid the last of the slow moving zombies still being cut down.

We enter the fort and the emptiness and silence greets us like a smack in the face.  The fort looks much bigger without all the people inside.  Some of the tents and structures are blackened from fire.  We walk through the compound, keeping to one side and heading for the planning office.

As we walk further in, I see people sitting, lying and standing in long queues outside the field hospital.  The more able bodied go up and down the lines, giving water and words of comfort to the injured.  A quick glance tells me most of them have been hurt by their own weapons, or have suffered broken legs and twisted ankles.  We pass through them quickly.  The whole area goes quiet as we walk through, they stare hard at us. I can’t tell what the looks mean, and at this time, I don’t care.  Someone exits the planning office just as we reach it, glancing at our filthy state before quickly moving away.  We pay no heed but walk straight in and see the cold bottles of water left on the table, and the filled buckets on the floor with towels and brushes.

We go for the drinks first, each of us twisting the caps off and taking long noisy gulps, the water spilling down our chins and soaking the front of our clothes.  I drain one bottle and go for another; Clarence is already on his third.  Dave drinks two bottles then carries one of the buckets outside into the warm sun.  He strips down to his undergarments and starts scrubbing at his body with the brushes.  We join in, taking a bucket each, pausing only when we realise there are several more buckets left over.  The sadness grips quickly and threatens to pull me down into the earth.

We wash in silence, scrubbing the filth from our skin, brushing our hands and arms the most.  I realise how much weight I’ve lost in just one week.  My stomach feels flatter, I feel leaner.  The result of constant movement and no food.  Someone drags a hose out and we take turns to sluice the soap from our bodies in the freezing spray.  I drink more water while I wait for my turn; still none of us has spoken since we came back in.

Dave drags the unused buckets out and starts scrubbing his clothes in them, using the brush to attack the dark blood stains.  We follow his lead and take the time to scrub our own clothes, wringing and spinning them out.  I spin my trousers round and round, watching the glistening water spray off like a Catherine wheel.  The clothes are spread out in the sun and eventually we head into the back rooms, slumping into easy chairs, sofas and the few camp beds left in there.   I go to the far corner and fall onto one of the camp beds, my mind races for a few seconds, but then there’s just blackness, sweet empty blackness.

Two

That cunt Howie.  He thinks he wins again but I won’t be beaten.  The others have become weak and frail, dropping like flies as the sun grows strong and hot.  But I’m not like them, I’m not weak.  I know that biting that little prick Jamie will slow them down.  They’ll stop to cry like babies while I run away.  That’s the difference between them and me; I won’t let feelings get in the way.

We were so close but I should have been better prepared.  I won’t make that mistake again.  I sensed the other hosts becoming weaker; it was like a change within them all.  Howie was almost beaten, I saw him go down and I knew I was close to winning, I even held them back from him so I could have the joy of killing him slowly.  He was weak and slow and then something happened, he got strong and started fighting back.

The stupid fucking cunt found some hidden reserve of strength; fuck knows where he got it from.  Then he rallied them with that prayer.  I sent them in stronger, I willed them to fight harder and they did.  But the sun was strong and pushing them all day yesterday and all through the night made them weak and their strength just seeped away.  Now I know they’re being cut down as they stumble about, fuck ‘em.  A massed attack didn’t work so it’s time to try something else, and having a fucking zombie army with me will slow me down.

The urge to eat flesh is so fucking powerful.  Biting Jamie was the biggest buzz I’ve ever had, like a thousand orgasms at the same time and knowing Howie and his cunt runt Dave saw it just made it better, even my zombie cock got hard.  The taste was unbelievable, and the feeling of his hot fresh blood pumping into my mouth, fuck me.  I want more, I want so much more.  Flesh won’t sustain me though, I need fuel to stay alive otherwise I’ll get weak like my poor brothers and sisters out there getting slaughtered.  Fuck ‘em, stupid cunts.

I run through the estate thinking about the battle.  I know exactly where I went wrong, a frontal attack was too much and I left it too long.  Cunt runt Dave blew up that fucking estate and then some cunt dug ditches and put sharp spikes down.  Then they had guns firing at us but I knew they would run out soon and we still had thousands left.  But that prick Howie, he whipped them up and got them ready to fight, I bet he made a stupid speech with stirring words while standing heroically on top of the Saxon, Dave watching him with his little cock standing to attention.

I didn’t see many women though, that bitch Sarah wasn’t there.  I wanted her so badly, so fucking badly.  I wanted to bite her fucking tits off while Howie begged me to stop.  Fuck it, she must have been in the fort with all the other women and children.  No, Howie wouldn’t risk it.  He expected to lose, I could sense they all did and he wouldn’t leave the women and children on their own, undefended, ready and waiting for us to take them.  Biting into their succulent flesh and tearing their skin apart.  Howie would have sent them away, hidden them somewhere.  But there was nowhere left to go.

The urge for flesh is so strong, but I must wait.  I’m out of the estate now and running back along the lane.  There’s houses up here, I’ll get in one of them and find food.  The thought of eating anything other than human flesh makes my stomach churn but I have to eat.

Where did Howie send them?  He must have sent them somewhere.  Think Smithy…what would Howie do?

I reach the end of the lane, there’s a cottage here.  The front door is open and I go inside.  No-one home, I would smell them if anyone was here.  That would be too much to ask wouldn’t it, just a little old lady left on her own ready for Smithy to have his lunch.  Ha, fuck ‘em.   In the fridge is cheese and sour milk, butter and vegetables.  I need flesh.  I open cupboard doors and the pantry, just fucking tins of peaches. Fuck it, I need flesh not fucking peaches.  I throw the tin and it smashes through the window into the back garden.  Another noise, scampering coming from outside.  I open the back door and look down at the fluffy white bunny with giant ears nibbling at the grass.

‘Hello my pretty,’ I move forward and stroke the fur.  Soft and warm, velvety ears and almost blue eyes staring up at me.  Fuck it, flesh is flesh and I bite down into the soft back.  The rabbit squirms but I bite through the spine and feel the hot blood spurt into my mouth.  I lift the warm corpse up and savage at the meat, tearing the flesh off and swallowing it down.  It’s not the same but it’ll do for now and I need fuel to survive.

I drop the corpse and stand up, the warm blood is dribbling from my mouth and I lick my fingers clean.  I can still taste Jamie on my hands and I lick them harder, desperate to get the last lingering flavour.

‘Where did Howie send the women little white bunny?’ The corpse doesn’t answer, just lays there bleeding.  Something triggers.  White bunny.  The fort’s at the water’s edge with nowhere left to go.  White bunny.  White.  I smile.  I know where he’s sent them.  Howie wouldn’t keep them anywhere close, oh no, he knows I’d find them.  There’s only one place left after here.  My smile becomes a grin as I walk out of the back garden.

‘I need a boat.’

Three

Waking up quickly, I sit bolt upright with sweat pouring off me.  The room smells of farts, and even though we washed before we came in here, it also smells of stale body odour.  Blowers and Cookey are still passed out sleeping deeply.  Chris is lying on one of the camp beds, flat on his back snoring loudly.  I stagger outside to find it’s still daylight, I check my watch.  It’s just gone 1pm; we slept for a few hours.  Dave is sorting the clothes out, folding them into piles.

‘Morning Dave,’ first words since I woke up and my voice sounds gruff.

‘It’s afternoon Mr Howie,’ he replies.

‘I know it’s a figure of speech mate.’

‘Oh, I always wondered why people said that.’ Is he being sarcastic? No way of telling with his flat way of speaking.

‘We need to get going,’ I say to Dave.

‘You, Mr Howie, are relentless,’ Clarence says, approaching from the direction of the hospital and carrying several bottles of water in his massive hands.  He hands me a bottle, I twist the cap off and drink it down.  My mouth feels furry with a metallic taste.

‘Where do you think he’ll go?’ He asks as I tilt the bottle up to my mouth and lean back.  I watch the bubbles shooting through the water in the bottle as I gulp it down.

‘He’ll be somewhere close, he wants to destroy us so he’ll be waiting for a chance,’ I reply.

‘You think so?’ Clarence says.

‘You saw what he did to Jamie, the look on his face.  He was getting off on it.’

‘He really doesn’t like you does he?’ Chris says from the doorway, yawning and stretching his arms out.

‘Do you think so? Damn and there’s me thinking we were best mates,’ I say.

‘Anyone been outside yet?’ Chris asks.

‘Not me,’ I reply, Dave shakes his head.

‘I didn’t go out but I checked in at the hospital.  The bodies are being scooped up into piles ready to be burnt,’ Clarence says, looking down at the ground.

‘What about the bitten ones turning?’ Chris asks, scratching his bushy beard.

‘They’ve got a few people out with weapons, taking them out as they come back.’ My stomach knots as I think of Tucker and Curtis coming back as one of those, I can see Chris thinking the same about Malcolm.

‘What’s done is done,’ Clarence says with finality, ‘we move on.’

‘Best get after him then,’ I take another swig of the water.

‘Why not rest for a bit, if you think he’s close then let him come to us.  We’re safe in here while Clarence goes after the boats,’ Chris offers in his normal diplomatic way.  The idea is tempting, very tempting.  I’m sure Darren won’t go far, his hatred for us, well me, is intense and I believe he will do anything he can to get at us.  The risk of going out there, with no ammunition left for the guns and only hand weapons left, well it’s a big risk.

‘We’ve got no ammunition left,’ I give voice to my thoughts.

‘Shotguns, we’ve got loads of them.  We didn’t use them on the wall, the range was too great,’ Clarence replies.

‘Sidearms too,’ Dave says.

‘Sidearms?’

‘Handguns, they were no use from the wall either.  We’ve got a few in the Saxon,’ Dave explains. ‘I gave Ted a couple yesterday too.’

‘So we’re still armed and dangerous then.’

‘What do you want to do?’ Chris asks, swiftly moving on from my feeble attempt at humour.  I look at Dave, but his face, as normal, gives nothing away.

‘Coffee, that’s what I want to do,’ I rub the sleep from my eyes and stretch my aching body.

‘I sent Nick to sort it,’ Dave says.

‘Sort what?’ I reply.

‘The coffee, Nick’s sorting it,’ he replies patiently.

‘Oh okay, I need a toothbrush too…’ my voice trails off, thinking of Tucker and how he’d have a cooked breakfast sizzling away in pans by now, toothbrushes lined up and fresh hot towels probably too.  Darren Smith.  I swear I’ll kill him.

‘Kill who?’ Dave asks me, I realise I must have said that out loud as Chris and Clarence are both staring at me too.

‘Smithy, I swear I’ll kill him.  This is his fault.  The disease or whatever it is, well that happened and everyone had to deal with it.  But coming after us like that, targeting us, that was different…’

‘That was personal,’ Chris adds, a dark look crossing his face.

‘I keep wondering if we brought it on ourselves with the amount of them we killed over the last few days,’ I say.

‘No,’ Clarence says with conviction, ‘think how many people they’ve taken.  Millions, more than that.  There can’t be a person left on earth that hasn’t been affected by them somehow.’

‘They left you alone though,’ I retort quickly, thinking back to the commune in London and how little contact they had before we got there.

‘Christ Howie, it only happened a couple of days before you arrived.  They would have come for us eventually,’ Chris replies almost angrily, ‘you’re right, this is down to Darren, he did this, or whatever that thing is inside him.’

‘Yeah, I guess,’ I shake my head and look down at the ground, then realise we’re all standing chatting in our under pants.  It was only a few days ago that I felt too self-conscious to stand in my parent’s kitchen with Dave, just in my pants.  How the world moves on.

‘Mr Howie, do we have a grievance procedure?’ Blowers suddenly asks, walking out of the room to stand squinting in the bright sunshine.

‘A what?’ I ask, confused.

‘A grievance procedure? Under the employment Act any employer must have a grievance procedure.  I want to air a grievance,’ he explains.

‘Fucking what?’ I ask him.

‘Mr Howie, you left me alone in the bedroom area with Cookey and he tried spooning me…’

‘Fuck off Blowers, that’s disgusting,’ Cookey retorts from just inside the doorway, standing there with his hand in his pants scratching his arse.  I burst out laughing with a sudden release.

‘This is not funny,’ Blowers continues in a serious tone, ‘I am more than happy to charge about the country killing zombies and putting myself in constant peril but I draw the line at being sexually harassed in the workplace, there’s laws about that kind of thing,’ he adds.  I shake my head, still laughing.

‘Also, and this is a very sensitive thing to inform you of Mr Howie, but er…’ Blowers crosses his arms across his body defensively and effects a hurt look on his face, ‘Cookey touched me in my private place…’  Clarence starts laughing, braying like a donkey with his deep tones, Chris is chuckling away and even Dave smiles.

‘Cookey, stop touching Blowers in his private place,’ I call out between bursts of laughter.

‘Yes Mr Howie, sorry Mr Howie,’ Cookey shouts back quick as a flash, ‘is there any coffee?’

‘Nick’s sorting it,’ Chris, Dave and I reply at the same time, smiling at each other.

‘When this I over, I’m taking you all to an employment tribunal and I’ll get millions and be able to retire,’ Blowers says with indignation.

‘I would be a witness and go halves with you, but I guess I’m complicit,’ Chris laughs.

‘I, er, don’t know what that word means?’ Blowers says to more chuckles.

‘You thick fucker Blowers,’ Cookey calls out from inside the room, still scratching his arse.

‘I bet you don’t know what it means either,’ Blowers shouts back.

‘Ah now that’s a sight for sore eyes,’ I cut in, spying Nick walking back towards us carrying several flasks of coffee.

‘Where’s the cups?’ Blowers asks him.

‘Cups? Dave never said anything about cups, just coffee,’ Nick says as Dave glances at him sharply.

‘Oooh, you’ve done it now…Dave’s gonna kick your arse for that,’ Blowers replies with a sharp intake of breath.

‘Shit, sorry Dave, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,’ Nick says quickly, still somehow managing to make the word Dave sound like the word ‘Sarge’.

‘There’s cups inside, just need swilling out,’ Chris disappears into the dark room and returns holding several mugs in his big hands.

‘I’m getting dressed,’ Blowers says picking up his trousers, ‘I’m not standing around Cookey in my underpants.’

‘You’re a sick fucker Blowers,’ Cookey sighs as he walks outside to wait for the coffee.

‘Ha, do you remember that bloke on top of the motorway service station,’ Nick asks.  Blowers and Cookey both burst out laughing as Nick pours the coffee.

‘I think he actually shit himself, like proper shit himself,’ Cookey says.

‘I take it that was something to do with the pair of trousers tied onto the back of the Saxon?’ I ask.

‘Um, er…maybe?’ Blowers replies, the three of them chuckling like old fishwives.  I watch them and wonder at their ability to laugh and joke after what we’ve been through.  Their humour is infectious though and it’s broken the strained atmosphere.

‘Young minds heal quickly,’ Chris says looking at me.

‘Squaddie humour,’ Clarence adds, nodding to himself.

‘We were talking before you came out,’ I say to the group as we drink the hot coffee, ‘We reckon that Darren won’t be far.  It’s clear he wants to get at us anyway he can,’ they all stare at me and I almost feel bad for ruining the atmosphere with this serious issue, but it has to be decided now.

‘So, we can go out and try to find him, or wait here and see if he comes to us, the fort is strong and he hasn’t got an army now.  We’ve got enough people here to put guards up and keep the doors locked.  We’ve still got vehicles to go out and get supplies.  Also, there are other forts along the coast, we should try and make contact with them, see if we can rig up some communication between us.  The other important thing is to find the women and children and bring them back,’ I take a sip of coffee and look at them in turn, inviting them to join in.

‘He’s got to pay for what he’s done,’ Blowers says quietly.

‘Definitely, without doubt.  But  he’s expecting us to go charging after him now and expose ourselves.  We should wait and see if he comes to us,’ I reply.

‘What if he doesn’t, what if he keeps running and gets away?’ Cookey asks seriously.

‘He’s a twisted sick psychopath,’ Clarence cuts in, ‘he gathered every zombie he could find and brought them here trying to get us, he won’t leave it now.’

‘Where did the boats go?’ Nick asks.  I swore I wouldn’t tell a soul where they went, just in case but I think these men have proved themselves beyond doubt of their trust.

‘The captain was going to try either the forts, the big ones in the sea or take them over to the Isle of Wight,’ I explain.

‘The Isle of Wight?’ Chris replies, ‘I forgot about that, I went there on holiday when I was young.’

‘Where is it?’ Dave asks and I remember that for all his skills and abilities, he knows virtually nothing of normal life and living or much about the country either.

‘Across the water, not too far, maybe a few miles.’

‘Is there a bridge?’ Dave asks.

‘No.’

‘Tunnel?’

‘No, nothing.  It’s a proper Island.  Boat only, they had car ferries running every day,’ I explain.

‘And a hovercraft, we went over on the hovercraft,’ Chris says, clearly reminiscing about his childhood.

‘Dave, you alright mate?’ he looks suddenly pale and worried.

‘I don’t like boats,’ he says flatly, ‘we used them all the time in the service and I hated them,’ he adds with a rare display of emotion.

‘So you know how to use them then?’ Chris asks smiling, and Dave suddenly looks trapped and panicky at the mere suggestion of it.

‘Well if he knows how to handle them, best man for the job really,’ Clarence chuckles, enjoying seeing the rare sight of Dave looking worried.

‘I never said I could handle them,’ Dave starts to explain.

‘You said you used them all the time,’ Chris says quickly.

‘Yeah but…’ Dave stammers and my mouth almost falls open at the sight of him desperately trying to think of something to say.

‘I can handle a boat,’ Nick says, coming to Dave’s rescue, ‘I used to go fishing loads.’

‘Okay, so what do you think of staying here and letting Darren come to us?’ I put the question out.

‘Whatever you think Mr Howie,’ Blowers says, Cookey and Nick are both nodding.’ Dave sits bolt upright, an intense look on his face.

‘He’ll go after them,’ he says quickly.

‘What?’ I ask him.

‘Darren, he’ll go after them.  He knows we’re too well protected here and he knows we expected to lose so he’ll know you would have taken steps to keep them safe.  He’ll figure it out and go after them.’

‘Mate, slow down,’ I say, struggling to keep up with his logic but with a sense of panic creeping up inside me.

‘Mr Howie, Darren knows we expected to lose.  There was no way we could have ever hoped to win with the numbers he threw at us.  He knows you Mr Howie.  He knows the effort you took to get to Sarah and he’ll know you sent them away so they couldn’t be taken when we lost the field,’ he speaks quickly, forcing his words out.

‘Dave, how? How will he know where they went?’

‘Howie, he’s right,’ Clarence says, getting to his feet.  I stand up, staring round at their faces.  ‘There’s nowhere else they could have gone, he’ll work it out and go after them,’ he adds.

They’re right.  There was no way I would let them hide out anywhere round here.  The fort was the safest place for miles and that wasn’t even deemed safe enough to keep them.  Maybe he’ll think they’re still here.  No, Smithy will know I sent them away.  He might be a sick fucker but he’s not stupid.  He was clever enough to run away when he sensed they were losing.  Anyway, there isn’t anywhere near here that could hide several hundred people without being noticed.  The estate was rigged with explosives traps so we couldn’t have got them out through there.  The sea is the only place they could have gone.

‘Fuck it, fuck and shit,’ I spit the words out, angry with myself for sitting here and drinking coffee.

‘Mind you, he’s still got to find them yet,’ Chris offers, once again rubbing his beard as he thinks.

‘It’s an Island isn’t it?’ Dave asks.

‘Yeah it’s not small though, it’s got several towns and loads of open places,’ I explain.

‘If the boats stopped running when the outbreak started, the Island will be cut off and probably over-run by now.  They’ve only got a few hours head start, if we leave now we might catch them up,’ Clarence says quickly, gathering his belongings.

‘Nick, you’re now the driver, get the Saxon down here and ready to go.  Blowers can you go with him and sort out what weapons and ammo we’ve got left.  Chris, did you say there’s shotguns here?’ I turn and ask him.

‘No, I did,’ Clarence answers,’ Malcolm had them in the armoury.  Chris, is there a metal cutter here, we’ll get the barrels taken down to make them more manageable.’

‘Will that take long?’ I ask concerned at anything that could delay us.

‘Five minutes Howie, and trust me, it’ll be worth it,’ Clarence replies.

‘I’ll get them ready,’ Chris starts to move off.

‘Chris, I still think you need to stay here, someone needs to run this place.  I saw what happens when the wrong people take charge, it needs someone with leadership.’ Chris stops and looks first at me, then at Clarence.

‘Makes sense Chris,’ Clarence offers, ‘besides; you’re getting too old to run around these days.’

‘You cheeky twat,’ Chris laughs, ‘okay, I’ll stay here,’ he drops the laugh and stares hard at Clarence, ‘make sure you bring her back,’ he turns and walks quickly away, heading towards the armoury.

‘Bring who back?’ I ask Clarence quietly.

‘His wife went in the boats,’ he replies, staring levelly at me.

‘Fucking hell, I had no idea.  The woman in the commune who brought us the drinks, that was his wife?’

‘Yeah…’ I leave Clarence speaking and run after Chris, catching up with him outside the office the police used.

‘Chris, I didn’t know your wife went in the boats,’ I call out, he stops to turn back and face me, shrugging once.

‘Mate, I had no idea, I’m so sorry.’

‘Sorry for what? It’s not your fault,’ He says.

‘Sorry for not realising, there was just so much going on.’

‘Howie it’s not your fault, I took steps to protect her and get her away, just like you did with Sarah.’

‘But how can you stay here when you know she’s out there?’

‘Because it needs to be done, and if you, Dave, Clarence and the others can’t bring them back, then nobody can.’

‘Chris, do you want to go?  I can stay here and get the fort up and running again.’

‘No, besides it wouldn’t be just you staying, it would be Dave too…’

‘Dave would go,’ I reply with a little confusion as to what he means.

‘Howie, Dave would go if you asked him, and then it would be reluctantly, very reluctantly.  You and Dave make a good team, there’s something special about the way you both operate.  Look at what you did just in this last week.  I don’t think anyone else could have managed that.’

‘Don’t be daft; you’d have done it the same.’

‘I might have tried, but I wouldn’t have won the people over like you did.  Those young lads respect you Howie.  You’re a natural leader and like it or not, that’s your responsibility to deal with.  Yeah, you could stay here and get the fort running and you’d do a good job.  But you’ll do a better job going after them.’  He starts walking off again, I jog to keep up with his big strides and fast pace.

‘Chris, you’ve got years of proper army training and missions and stuff.  I don’t have that, bloody hell; it’s Dave that got me out of most of the messes I got into.’  We walk into the armoury and I follow Chris as he starts picking shotguns up from a stack and laying them on a workbench.

‘But you put yourself into those situations Howie, when most people would have cowered and hidden away you went forward.  We had a saying in the old days, when everyone else runs away, we run towards.’

‘Mate, I get that but it’s your wife Chris, fair enough my sister is out there but that makes it about even for us, in a manner of speaking.  What I’m trying to say is that we’ve both got the right to go, not just me.  We can both get the fort up and running so it shouldn’t be just assumed that because I want to go, I should do, fuck…I’m not making sense.’

‘It makes perfect sense,’ Chris says, quickly checking each weapon and sorting them into piles, ‘but what you fail to see Howie, is the way you do things.  You and Dave, it’s something special.  We followed you Howie.  Yeah I can lead and I know I’m a good leader, and we shared the responsibility of getting ready for the battle but it was you leading us out there, it was you charging forward on your own.’

‘And look at the damage I caused, Tucker, Curtis and Malcolm might still be with us if I hadn’t charged off on my own like that…’

‘No, we would have taken losses.  That is normal Howie.  We cannot walk into a fight like that and expect everyone to walk back out of it unscathed…’ His voice is firmer, rising in volume.

‘Chris, I fucked up.  I over extended myself and almost got beaten down.  I was fucked and on my knees, if we’d stayed as a group and kept the circle we used before then it might not have happened.’

‘If? If? If we had more ammunition, if we had more trained men, if we had fucking planes and tanks…if those things hadn’t come after us, there’s no room for if’s Howie,’ Chris shouts, not in anger but trying to make his point.  ‘And yes, you were on your knees, but what happened then Howie?’ He stares straight at me, his intense look unflinching.

‘What?’

‘What happened then Howie, when you were on your knees?’ He speaks low, eyes locked on mine.

‘I got back up,’ I shrug, uncomfortable now.

‘How, how did you get back up.  I saw you falter and drop.  You had nothing left.  I’ve been in many, many battles and fights Howie, but I have never seen anything like that.  You came alive like nothing I’ve ever seen before.  You scared them; something about you scared them and made them hold back.  You were surrounded, they could have killed you a hundred times over in the time you were on your knees but they didn’t.’

‘Yeah, well, just lucky…’ I start to say.

‘Oh no, not lucky.  No ones that lucky.  Whatever that was, it was different, special.  The whole field responded to you Howie, every person on that field heard your voice and the words you spoke…’

‘They were just words, bloody hell Chris…’

‘Howie, how many people were on that field?’ Chris asks me, his eyes still locked on mine.

‘I don’t know, we had a few thousand, they had a lot more.’

‘So how did they all hear you? With all the fighting, the shouting, people getting hurt and dying, thousands of people all making noise.  How did they hear you?’

‘I don’t know, I was shouting, then you joined in and then the rest joined in.  I guess it just carried.’ I feel weird, unsettled.

‘Howie, we all heard you.  Every one of us.  It was like your voice was inside our heads or something.  It was everywhere.’

‘Echo?’ I try to joke, I don’t like the way this is going.  Chris shakes his head, finally breaking his gaze and turning back to the shotguns.

‘I’ve been a soldier all my life, and I’ve never seen anything like that before, did you not see the way everyone was looking at you when we came back in?’

‘They were looking at us, all of us.’

‘No Howie, they were looking at you.  Even Dave picked up on it.  Do you remember him staring at you at the end of the battle?  But then I think maybe Dave saw it long before the rest of us did.’

‘Fuck off Chris,’ I laugh, trying to joke my way out of it again, ‘what is this?’  He shrugs again.

‘Ah, enough said.  I’m staying here and that’s final.  You go and you bring them back.  I’ll have the fort back up and running in no time,’ he turns his back on me, sorting through the shotguns.

‘Chris…’

‘Time is ticking Howie, Darren might already be after them and you’ve got my wife to bring back.’

‘Okay mate…okay.’ There’s not much else I can say.  I walk out, back into the sunshine and warmth.  His words racing and spinning through my mind.  I think back to the battle, but to be honest, it feels distant now.  It was only a few hours ago and I can remember every part of it, but not the feeling I had.  That feels distant, like something I dreamt or that happened a long time ago.  I remember going to my knees and feeling weak but then I remembered Sarah and I guess I just found some hidden reserve of strength.

I shrug it off, too weird and uncomfortable to deal with.  I look up and realise I’ve walked the wrong way, going back towards the hospital instead of our area.  Everyone is staring at me and I remember what Chris just said.

‘Morning,’ I call out cheerily, stopping mid stride, knowing I’ve got to turn round and go back the way I came but I’ll look even weirder if I do that.

‘Ha, I went the wrong way, what a donut!’ I turn and walk back the way I came, my face stinging from the almightily stupid comment I just made.  Idiot, bloody idiot.

Walking back, I see the Saxon being driven slowly down the ramp leading from the wall; it reaches the bottom and moves carefully through the camp, coming to a stop just outside our rooms.  Dave opens the back doors and climbs in, quickly sorting through the various storage lockers.  Blowers and Cookey help lift bags out of the rear doors and onto the ground.  Nick comes round from the driver’s side and starts opening them up.

‘It’s a shame to lose the Saxon Mr Howie,’ Dave remarks as he opens the canvas bags.

‘Well there’s a vehicle ferry but I doubt very much if it’s running, and besides we haven’t booked and it can get pretty busy this time of year,’ I reply, watching him remove black handguns from the bags and lay them out on the floor.

‘Do we need to book?’ Dave asks, ‘have you got the number to call?’

‘I was joking,’ I crouch down and pick one of the handguns up.

‘So was I,’ Dave remarks flatly, ‘have you ever used a handgun before?’

‘Oh yeah, all the time. Every day on the ranges at the back of the store.’

‘I’ll take that as a no then, have any of you used one before?’ Dave asks the three lads who are standing watching him.  They shake their heads.

‘Grab one each, quick run through and we’ll practise later.  The safety is here, the magazine goes in here.  To engage the first round you slide the top back like this…’ Dave runs through a lightning fast drill, it seems easy enough.

‘There’s enough belt holsters there, but only two shoulder holsters.’

‘Oh I’ve got to have a shoulder holster,’ Cookey says excitedly, lunging forward to grab one.  He stands back up and looks at me.

‘Er, did you want it Mr Howie?’ He asks with a hopeful look on his face.

‘No mate, you crack on, it’ll suit you better.  Dave who’s having the last one?’ I see Nick grinning like mad, glancing between Cookey and the rig in Dave’s hands, not realising that Blowers has already picked up a belt holster and is fastening it on.

‘I think Nick might want it mate, he’s almost drooling at the moment.  Unless you want it?’

‘No, I prefer the belt rig,’ he throws it over to Nick who gives a loud shout of “yes” and starts trying to shrug into it.

‘You’ll be there all day, stand still,’ Clarence comes up behind him and starts adjusting the straps, fastening them round his shoulders and showing them both how to fix them on.

‘Two magazines each, that’s all we’ve got.  Use them as a last resort only.  Shotguns and hand weapons first, got it?’ Dave gives the instructions clearly.  I fasten a belt to my waist and slide the handgun into it.

‘We’ll leave the Saxon here and use some of these vehicles to find a boat.  We can always find something on the other side if we need to.  Right, you ready?’ They all stare back at me, nodding.

‘Get bottles of water from the stores, and get some food to eat on the way.  We’ll meet in the armoury, five minutes.’  We break apart, the three lads heading to the stores area while Dave, Clarence and I walk down to the armoury, entering to find Chris pushing the long barrel of a shotgun sideways through a circular saw, bright red sparks showering high and cascading across the workbench.  Clarence nudges my arm and indicates a load of shotguns already shortened.  I go over and pick one up, the weight feels a lot different to the big cumbersome things Dave and I used before.

‘They’re all the same bore that lot, so you can share cartridges.  The range is reduced a lot, but the fire power at short range is devastating, which is why gentlemen, they are illegal so don’t let any police catch you with ‘em,’ Chris walks towards us, rubbing the end of the shotgun with some wire gauze, smoothing the end off from the action of the saw.

‘Pistols, sawn off shotguns and axes, what more can an elite zombie killing unit need,’ I joke, staring at Chris, thankful that he smiles back.  The tension from the conversation we had a short time ago is gone.  I shrug my rucksack off and push the shotgun inside, the stock poking out the top.  I synch the elastic round the shotgun and put the bag back on.  Reaching over I can just reach the top of the shotgun.  Chris steps forward and tightens the straps, lifting the bag higher on my back.  I try again and find I can reach the stock easily.  I step away and try drawing it out, the trigger guard catches on the elastic.  Chris again steps forward and loosens the elastic slightly.

‘Try again,’ he says, Clarence and Dave are both watching me, seeing if it will work.  I reach back and pull the gun smoothly out of the bag.

‘Do it again,’ Chris says, helping me guide the shotgun back into the bag.  I try several more times, pulling slightly from the left and right, the shotgun slides out easily each time.

‘It should be okay, but if you’re in a tight spot and it sticks, just ditch the bag, don’t stand there fucking about dancing on the spot,’ Chris advises me with a smile.

‘You know me too well mate that is exactly the sort of thing I would do.’  Clarence and Dave both insert their shotguns into bags, Dave reaches his easily enough.  But Clarence’s massive shoulders prevent him from reaching his arm far enough back.

‘You fat fucker,’ Chris laughs and I can’t imagine anyone else saying that to Clarence and getting away with it.

‘Piss off Chris; you’re not exactly little yourself.’

‘Malcolm was always telling you to stop lifting so many weights,’ Chris says, watching Clarence dance about, stretching his arm back but getting nowhere near the stock.

‘I should have listened to him,’ Clarence rumbles, ‘it’s not going to work, I’ll leave it there though.  I’ve got the sidearm and the axe with me.’

‘That’s if you can get your fat sausage fingers through the trigger guard,’ Chris laughs, then ducks as Clarence launches a dirty rag at him.  I smile at the sight and think how similar they are to Blowers and Cookey.  The easy banter between them built up over years of living and fighting together.

‘We should go,’ Dave interrupts, clearly impatient to be off.

‘The man’s a machine,’ Clarence jokes and grins at Dave, who remains stony faced as ever.

Outside we meet up with Nick, Blowers and Cookey.  They hand over bottles of water and food items sourced from the stores.  They look downbeat and quiet.

‘What’s up?’ I ask.

‘The stores,’ Blowers replies quietly.

‘Tucker did a great job of getting them in order, it felt weird going through it all, knowing he sorted it,’ Cookey says.

‘Yeah, I know.  He was an exceptional man.  We’ve got to go, you ready?’  They nod back, still quiet and withdrawn.

We head down through the fort to the first gate, Chris walking with us.  There are people milling about, walking around quietly.  Most of them still in a daze from everything they’ve been through.  There are men crashed out sleeping, some of them still covered in filth and gore from the battle.  A few patrol the top wall, or lean on the parapets, relaxing and staring out with expressionless faces.  Chris eyes them all, taking it all in and I can tell he’s making mental notes as to what needs doing first.

Reaching the gates, we head through the single walk through one and into the space between the inner and outer wall.  We walk down to where the vehicles are stored.

‘There’s an old minibus van here, big enough for six.  Unless you want to take two smaller vehicles?’ Chris says.  We reach the vehicles and I notice the large plant machinery is gone.  The diggers we used to dig the ditches are gone too; they must be outside piling the bodies up ready to be cremated.

‘We’ll take the van so we can stay together,’ I reply.  Chris sorts through various keys; each set has been thoughtfully attached to a small label with the make and registration number.

‘I bet Sergeant Hopewell got that done,’ I remark, ‘at least we know they’re in good hands.’

‘Yep, for now. Any idea where they would have headed to?’ Chris asks.

‘We’ll try the forts on the way; we’ve pretty much got to go past them.  Other than that, no idea.  It’s quite a big group so we’ll look for places that are fortified and can hold large numbers.’

‘Are there any of these forts over there?’ Chris nods backwards, as though indicating the fort behind him.

‘Probably.  Must be I guess.  The plan was for the whole section of water between Portsmouth and the Island to be covered by defences.  We’ve got this one and others over here and the big things in the sea so there must be some over there.’

‘I’d try them first,’ Chris says handing over a set of keys.  ‘That four wheel drive is in the way, I’ll shift it if you bring the van out.’  I take the keys, leaving the others where they are while Chris moves the other vehicle.  The minibus is an old taxi company vehicle, the firm’s logo still etched onto the side.  Advertising the cheapest rates, airport runs and twenty-four hour cover.  The logo makes me think of the planes that would have been in the air at the time it started.  Did they land safely?

It’s mid-summer and people would be going away for their holidays.  I imagine landing in some gorgeous tropical heaven, only to find it infested with zombies and having no way of getting back.

The minibus starts first time, well maintained despite the high mileage illuminated on the dash.  I drive forward and pull up just in front of the double gates, now closed and secured after the battle.  Two men stand there holding shotguns, watching us with interest.  The others take turns to shake Chris’s hand and then load in from the big sliding door on the side.  Dave goes to take the front, then realising Clarence will struggle to get into a seat, he nods at the big man and gets into the back.

‘Good luck,’ Chris says, shaking hands.

‘You too mate.’

I get in and hear Chris call over to the two men at the gate.  They pull the bolts back and start tugging the doors open.  I get a flashback of standing here waiting for those doors to open before the battle.  I shake my head and drive forward slowly, easing through the gap.  I nod at the two men; they’re both staring at me.  One raises a hand, the other nods.

Then we’re out and the scene is amazing.  The diggers and plant machinery have been hard at work for several hours under the close supervision of Kelly.  Massive piles of bodies have been stacked up in the middle of the flatlands.  Far enough away from the fort to try and prevent the smoke drifting back.  It reminds me of the body piles Dave made in the supermarket, his was neat and tidy.  These are just mounds of human corpses.  The men doing the work must know some of the people in those mounds.

The sight is sickening and turns my stomach.  So much destruction and death.  There are men moving round one of the mounds of bodies, splashing liquid from fuel cans onto the heaps.  They move away to a safe distance, someone lights something and throws it into the pile.  The fuel ignites quickly and within seconds the mound is engulfed in flames.  Thick black smoke billows up into the air.  The people on the ground stand and watch the flames.

We drive down the central road, heading towards the estate, or where the estate was before Dave blew it up.  The smoke drifts over, the stench hitting us despite the windows being closed.  I gag in my throat at the smell of roasting meat and use one hand to cover my mouth and nose.  The other’s do the same, apart from Dave who just watches it with idle interest.

‘That’s fucking disgusting,’ Nick exclaims his voice muffled by the hand clasped tightly over his mouth.

We drive on as the men carry the fuel cans over to the next pile and start splashing it out again.  I speed up, keen to be away before they light the next one.  Within a couple of minutes we enter the estate, all of us staring round in wonder.  The whole area is blackened, huge pits in the ground show where explosions detonated with the energy forced equally down.  Burnt and crisped bodies are everywhere, there must have been hundreds that were incinerated instantly and these came in after.  Hardly anything is recognisable.  There are twisted melted lumps that could have been vehicles.  The houses are just stumps of brick work, random walls poking up here and there.  The tyres crunch over glass and debris as we drive through in silence, weaving carefully round the larger obstacles.  Towards the centre there is a massive crater and a large void all around it, everything blown away.

‘That must have been the fuel truck,’ I remark quietly, Dave affirms this with a single quiet “yes”.  I open the window and poke my head out, the heat is still intense.  I guess the stone and brickwork has retained the supercharged heat even from a few hours ago.  Again I speed up, worried about the tyres melting, closing the window quickly, the stench of burning stinging my eyes.

‘Where are we going to get a boat from?’ I call out.

‘Head to Portsmouth Mr Howie, there’s loads of harbours on the way.  Just need to keep to the coastline,’ Nick shouts back.

‘Righto mate, Portsmouth it is.’

We exit the estate and wait a few minutes before winding the windows down, Blowers pulls the sliding door back to let air flow through.  We all breathe deeply; keen to rid our lungs of the foul and noxious fumes we inhaled.

‘Does anyone mind if I smoke?’ Nick calls out.

‘Dirty habit,’ Clarence rumbles from the front passenger seat.

‘Do you mind then?’ Nick asks again.

‘No, you carry on.  Anything has got to be better than what we just went through,’ Clarence turns and smiles at them.  In the rear view mirror, I see Blowers, Cookey and Nick shuffling round so they get closer to the open door and window.  Dave moves over to give them more space.

‘I don’t suppose you’ve got rolling tobacco there have you?’ I shout back.

‘Yeah, I got some,’ Cookey answers, ‘do you want one?’ He sounds surprised.

‘Roll me one please mate,’ I shout back.

‘I didn’t know you smoked Mr Howie,’ Blowers says.

‘I gave up, then started again, and then gave up.  Fuck it; I need something to get rid of that smell.’  I watch Cookey laying tobacco into a thin white cigarette paper then deftly rolling it closed, he licks the seam and passes it forward with a lighter.

‘Keep it Mr Howie, I’ve got a few,’ Cookey says, sitting back down and lighting his own.  I ignite the lighter and for a second watch the tiny flame dancing about, glancing between it and the road ahead.  Thinking of the funeral pyres we just saw.  I shrug and lean into the flame, sucking through the cigarette until the end glows bright red.  I inhale the smoke into my lungs, holding it there for a second before coughing it out, my eyes streaming with tears and hear Clarence’s deep chuckle.

I navigate the small roads, keeping to the coast as much as possible.  Driving through quiet residential roads that look untouched by the events of the last week.  The normality seems to calm our nerves and it’s not long before Blowers and Cookey are exchanging abuse, Nick joining in with them.  Being this close to the sea, there are signs of maritime interests everywhere.  Small sailing yachts and dinghies in front gardens.  Signs for chandlers and sail makers.  Pubs and cafes with nautical names; The Lobster Pot, The Fishermen’s Rest.  The area looks well-ordered and expensive.  Big houses that only the elite could afford.  Not now though.  If nothing else, the last week has eradicated the class system.  Money has been made instantly worthless and we’re back to a base state of being, trade, weapons and who is strong enough to survive.

If mankind survives this event, the world could be a much better place in a few years.  Cleaner, safer.  But that’s a big if…and for now I focus on finding a harbour and a boat.

Four

That was lucky.  Very fucking lucky, fortune favours the brave so they say.  Stupid cunts.  What do they know about being brave?  Fuck all, that’s what.  I’m the brave one, being hunted to almost extinction by Howie and his bunch of toy soldiers.  Cock suckers, all of them.  I’ve been running for ages.  I was never this fit before I turned, I feel energised, powerful and strong.  That’s the little snack I just had, powering me on.  Like I said, I was lucky.  The rabbit tasted weird but gave me a bit of energy, but I know I need water too.  Just the thought of it makes me want to puke but it’s got to happen if I’m to stay strong and complete my mission.  My mission to fuck Howie over properly.

I found a shop.  Just a small convenience store in the middle of fucking No-Where-Ville.  I could tell there were people inside; the wooden sheets of ply nailed across the windows gave it away.

I watched from across the street for a short while and saw an upstairs curtain twitch, a face poked out and looked about.  The blind fucker didn’t see me though.  I waited until they went away from the window and ran across.  The front door had an awning above it so I got in close, knowing they wouldn’t be able to see me from the upstairs windows.

‘Hello? Is anyone there?’ I knocked and called out, making my voice sound weak and frail.

‘Please, please help me,’ I knocked again, not too loud though.  I didn’t want them thinking I was trying to break the door down.  Just loud enough to make them think I was trying to be quiet.

‘Please, you’ve got to help.  My daughters been injured, we just need some aspirin to get her temperature down, please, oh god please help me.’ Fuck me I should get an Oscar for this performance.  Noise inside, they’re moving about and I can hear low voices.  They’re discussing whether to help me or not.

‘Please, oh please.  I don’t want to be out here for long.  I promised them I would come straight back.  The other shops are all looted and empty.  We just need some aspirin and clean water.’  I give a little sob and knock again.  I slump down with my back to the door and my legs stretched out.  I know they’ll be able to see my feet and know there’s just one person.  More murmuring from inside, a male and female.  I guess from the tones that the female wants to let me in but the male is arguing against her.

‘My daughter, she’s only five.  She’s been sick, not bitten but just sick.  I promised I would get some medicine.  Oh my god why is this happening!  I promised her I would get some medicine and sweets,’ I break down, sobbing.  Well pretending to anyway.

‘We’ll open the door but no funny business, we’re armed in here,’ a gruff male voice called out.

‘Oh thank you, thank you so much…I’ve…I’ve got money.’  Bolts are being drawn back, several of them from the sound of it.  I lean my arm against the door frame and tuck my head down, covering it with my other hand just in case they see my face.  Just in time too, the door opens slowly and squinting through the gaps in my fingers I see a man’s face peering at me.

‘Oh mate, thank you so much,’ I sob again, heaving my chest a little and rubbing my hand over my face.

‘You’re covered in blood!’ The man says suspiciously.

‘I know! It’s my wife’s; she went out first and got bit.  I tried to save her but she turned and I had to…I had to…’I heave my chest again for effect, ‘I just didn’t want Rosie to see…I told her to go back inside but she just kept calling for her mummy.’

‘John, open the door and let the poor man in will you!’ The female’s voice calls out from inside.

‘Okay, come in mate.  It’ll be okay, come inside so I can close this door you poor bugger.’

‘Thank-you, oh my god I didn’t know what else to do,’ I keep rubbing my face and heaving my chest until I cross the threshold and get inside.  There are only two of them, both aged in their sixties by the looks of them.  The man is holding a cricket bat and the woman a long knife; the silly bitch puts it down on a shelf next to her when she sees me though.  Holding her arms out she beckons me  to  her.  So I go.  I collapse into her embrace and feel her rubbing my back.  I hug her back, and turn so that I face the man.  I feel her tense up as I turn her round, then the man sees my face and gasps in shock.

‘Edith, let go!’ He yells but it’s too late.  I grin at him and sink my teeth into her neck,  biting down hard and tearing into the flesh.  The man leaps forward and swings with the bat,  I step back and watch him bash his wife round the head.  Stupid fucker.

‘Oh my god! Edith.’ He stares, stupefied, and I grin back at him as we both look down at his now unconscious wife.   I chew away for a few seconds, then pick a bit of flesh out of my tooth.

‘She’s a tough old bird eh John,’ I flick the bit of skin on the floor.  John raises the bat and goes bright red in the face as he lunges at me taking big swings.  I keep stepping back and watch him knocking things of the shelves with the bat.

‘Easy now John, you’re gonna have a heart attack in a minute,’ I step back again as he advances once more,  swinging wildly.

‘What’s up mate, never seen a zombie talk before?’  He pulls the bat back for a big swipe, I step in and grip him tight, my face inches from his.

‘Come on John, give us a kiss,’ I lean in and sink my teeth into his cheek, biting and tearing at the flesh,   feeling the hot blood pumping out and spurting into my face.  He squirms and thrashes but the fight has gone out of him really.  He slumps down and I go for the big vein in his neck.  Biting through it and revelling in the glory I pull back and press my hand into his wound, stemming the blood flow.  Knowing the infection will congeal the wound quickly I wait for a couple of minutes and let go.  The blood pumps out as fast as before.

‘Oops, sorry John.  I bit you a bit hard.’ I leave him to bleed out.  At least Edith can join our glorious undead team now.

That was half an hour ago and I’ve been jogging steadily ever since.  It’s amazing but just that little bit of blood has given me so much energy.  I must be a vampire.  Ha, a zombie vampire.  Fuck Twilight, I’m a whole new species.

I find a harbour and run in. It’s just a small harbour with boats tied up to the floating jetties, fixed in position by solid pylons.  I move from boat to boat, until I find one with an engine attached.  A wooden fishing boat with a small cabin at the front.  I examine the controls and figure out how to start it.  The engine splutters a few times but eventually fires up.  The ropes are pulled off and I press the lever forward, driving the boat into the one in front.  What fucking idiot put it there?  Cunts.  I get the boat away from the jetty and start moving forward out of the harbour and into open water.

‘Little piggies little piggies, where did Howie send his little piggies?’

Five

‘Any idea’s which one?’ We’re standing round the front of the minibus, looking down at the harbour we found a few miles out from Portsmouth.

‘Finding one we can use will be the hard bit,’ Nick replies.

‘Why, are they like cars with keys and alarms?’

‘Some are, the smaller ones just take the outboard off, we might be lucky.  This time of year has people going out all the time.  All we need is for some rich bastard to have left his engine attached.’ Nick explains, his eyes scanning the various boats.  He moves forward, the rucksack on his back with the shotgun poking out the top.  We must look a right sight, six men walking through a posh harbour carrying axes and shotguns and dressed in military clothing. Nick goes from boat to boat, checking engines.

Clarence seems to have an idea what he’s looking for and joins in.  The rest of us stand on the pontoon waiting in the warm sunshine.  I look down at the gentle waves of the sea, a deep blue colour.  The water looks inviting and cool.  Small grey fish dart around.  White fluffy clouds ride high in the sky and seagulls glide down to land gracefully on the water.  The scene is idyllic, beautiful.

I glance at Blowers and Cookey, both of them silent for once, enjoying the relaxing setting.  I look towards Dave and burst out laughing at the already green tinge to his face.  The noise makes Clarence stand up suddenly from examining an outboard engine.  He follows my look and a big grin spreads across his face.

‘You look like you’re about to puke mate, do you want some water?’ I hand a bottle over; he takes it gratefully and starts sipping gently.

‘You really don’t like boats then.’

‘No Mr Howie, I really don’t.’

‘Oh yes my beauty!’ Nick exclaims loudly.  He stands up grinning like mad, ‘can you believe some fucking idiot left this here.’  He clambers out of the black and red coloured rigid inflatable, big oversized inflated frame, seats down the middle behind a central console consisting of a small steering wheel and lever.  Two huge shiny engines at the rear, their mean looking propellers out of the water.

‘There’s a couple of open beer bottles down there,’ Nick nods towards the front of the boat, ‘I reckon there were people on here when it happened and they legged it.’

‘Nice one mate, well done.  Has it got fuel?’ I ask him.

‘Hang on,’ he fires the engine up and moves back to lower the two engines so the propellers are in the water, then goes back and checks the dials.

‘About three quarters full, mind you these things burn fuel very quickly.’

‘It’s not that far is it?’ Dave asks, suddenly worried.

‘No mate, it’ll be over in a jiffy,’ I re-assure him.  The others climb on, leaving Dave standing there looking like a frightened school boy.  Eventually he gingerly steps on and takes a middle seat, his hands grasping the hand rail tightly.  I dump my belongings next to him and move up front to watch Nick.  He examines the instruments for a few minutes, his fingers touching each one in turn.  Checking and murmuring to himself.  He did this on the bridge in London, taking seconds to figure out a complex set of levers and dials.

‘Got it,’ he looks up smiling.

‘Can we let the ropes go?’ Clarence calls out.

‘Yes mate, we’re ready,’ Nick answers him.  Cookey and Blowers both take seats.  Clarence unties the ropes and comes to stand on the other side of the console, both of us watching Nick.  Already the tide has pulled us away from the pontoon and Nick lets the boat drift out before gently pushing the lever forward.  The engine rises in pitch, only very slightly and the boat starts moving forward.

‘You’re going the wrong way Nick,’ Cookey shouts out.

‘Yes I know,’ Nick answers, letting the boat move slowly forward.

‘Nick, Nick, You’re going the wrong way,’ Blowers joins in.

‘Fuck off,’ Nick shouts back turning the wheel.  The boat responds and starts to turn round but the next pontoon is close and Nick pulls the lever backwards.

‘Nick, you’re going to hit the other boats,’ Cookey yells.

‘Nick, Nick, you’re going backwards Nick,’ Blowers shouts, the pair of them laughing.

‘Fucking idiots,’ Nick mutters, letting the boat reverse slowly, turning the wheel and forcing the nose to face towards the entrance before pushing the lever forwards again.

‘Nick, Nick….Nick…’ Cookey shouts incessantly.

‘What!?’

‘You’re going really slowly Nick,’ he laughs.

‘But the right way this time,’ Blowers adds.  I chuckle at the lads trying to wind Nick up.

‘Mr Howie, is Dave holding on tight?’ Nick asks quietly.  I glance down and see Dave has almost glued his hands to the rails.

‘He’s gripping for dear life,’ I reply.

‘In that case, would you and Clarence please do the same,’ he smiles evilly and I see Clarence’s knuckles go white as he grips the safety bar.  Nick eases the boat gently out of the harbour and into the open water.

‘Nick, Nick, you’re still going really slow,’ Cookey shouts out.

‘Hold on,’ Nick murmurs and pushes the lever forward.  The engines instantly scream out and the front of the boat seems to lift high out of the water.  The power is incredible and the boat surges ahead.  I look back to see Blowers and Cookey falling off their seats and scrabbling for a hand hold.  Nick turns to look and laughs at the sight of them trying to stand up.  He waits a second for them to get a hand grip then turns the wheel hard over to the side.  The boat lurches over and propels forward, causing Blowers and Cookey to go flying off their seats again.

‘Fucking hell Nick,’ Blowers shouts out.  Nick eases back on the lever and the boat glides to a steady pace.

‘What’s that?’ Nick shouts back.

‘That was fucking great,’ Cookey laughs, ‘do it again.’

‘No,’ Dave growls and the lads go silent as I chuckle to myself.

‘Head for the forts mate,’ I point to the two forts out at sea.  Both of them are still a few miles out but clearly visible.  Positioned either side of the deep channel, marking the route for the thousands of vessels that pass through every year.  Nick eases the lever forward, gently increasing the speed until we’re going at a decent pace.

The water is calm, like the surface of a pond, and we bounce along with the warm wind blowing in our faces.  The noise makes any chance of conversation almost impossible and we travel in silence.  I look round in all directions, no other vessels in sight anywhere.  The Island looms in the distance, looking green and lush,  the ground rising steeply away from the shore line.

‘What’s that?’ Clarence shouts, pointing into the distance.

‘It’s a pier, connects to the town,’ I reply, staring at the long straight black thing stretching out a fair distance into the water.

Nick gradually increases the speed with a gentle nudge of the lever, I keep glancing back at Dave sitting there with his eyes squeezed shut.  Blowers and Cookey are both facing into the wind, looks of absolute pleasure on their faces.  I try to think of what I know about the Isle of Wight, very little.  I know it’s big so finding them might not be easy, but that could make it just as hard for Darren to find them too.  But, then there’s a large group and moving about will attract attention.  Especially if the police officers and Sarah are armed.

My musings pass the time until we’re close to the first fort, looming up high above us.  We circle round a few times staring up at the half grey and half black fortress.  It looks derelict with large signs warning the public to stay away.  The fort has a mooring point; a metal structure fixed to the side of the building.  The gangway leads to a solid looking gate with a heavy padlock and chain attached.

‘No-one has been through there recently,’ Clarence remarks, standing at the front of the rib and staring at the gate.  The waves are more substantial here, the pull of the tide against the fort creating eddies and whirls.  Nick fights to keep the boat from being pulled against the fort, making subtle turns with the wheel and the power lever.

‘Try the next one mate,’ I say to Nick.  He nods and pushes the lever forward, powering the boat swiftly past the fort before turning to move across the main shipping channel.

We reach the next one within minutes.  This one looks in far better condition with fresh paint on the outside and clear signs of structures running round the top, where-as the previous fort looked flat and featureless.  There are windows built into the top section.  The mooring point is attached to a more modern looking pulley system and is winched up high; preventing any boats from berthing alongside the smooth walls.  We circle round a few times, looking for any signs of habitation or some way of berthing.

A gunshot rings out, a loud retort echoing across the quiet sea.  We duck instinctively and I just catch a glimpse of a figure standing way above us on the top of the fort, holding a long barrelled weapon.  Dave reacts with lightning speed and whips his pistol out, taking aim at the figure.

‘DAVE NO,’ I shout before he can fire, ‘Nick, back away quickly.’ Nick starts moving the boat away from the fort.  I raise my arms above my head, hands up.  Trying to show we are not a threat.  Although six heavily armed men circling their fort in a high powered boat can never look that unthreatening.

‘WE’RE GOING, PLEASE DO NOT FIRE,’ I shout towards the fort.  Clarence has followed suit and is standing with his arms raised, which just serves to accentuate his massive size.  A quick glance back and I see Blowers and Cookey have done the same.  Dave has raised his arms halfway but I see his holster is unfastened and ready for quick access.

‘IF YOU COME CLOSER I WILL FIRE ON YOU,’ a loud male voice shouts down, the speaker hidden from view.

‘OKAY, WE’LL STAY HERE.  WE DON’T WANT TROUBLE.  WE’RE LOOKING FOR A LARGE GROUP OF FRIENDS THAT CAME OUT HERE IN BOATS.’

‘WHAT?’

‘I SAID WE’RE LOOKING FOR SOME MEMBERS OF OUR GROUP THAT CAME OUT THIS WAY IN BOATS,’ I try shouting louder but my voice is hoarse and doesn’t carry that well.

‘I CAN’T HEAR YOU,’ his voice is clear and distinct, something to do with him shouting down at us maybe.

‘Dave, you shout up mate.’

‘WE ARE LOOKING FOR OUR GROUP THAT CAME OUT ON BOATS EARLY THIS MORNING,’ Dave’s voice bellows out and for a split second I imagine zombies in Portsmouth turning to face this direction.

‘I SAW THEM BUT THEY ARE NOT HERE, NOW GO AWAY.’

‘WHAT DID YOU SEE?’

‘GO AWAY NOW OR I WILL FIRE.’

‘WHICH WAY DID THEY GO?’

Another shot rings out, Nick slams the lever forward and we power away quickly.  I stare back at the fort and hold my arm up high.  Nick raises the speed until we are almost flat out, bouncing along at an incredible speed.  He keeps glancing back until he gauges we are at a safe enough distance then powers down to a more comfortable pace.

‘Must be on the Island then,’ the others at the back don’t hear above the roar of the engines.  Nick and Clarence both nod back.

‘Any idea where?’ Nick yells out.

‘Head over towards the pier and we’ll move along the coast, see if we can find their boats anywhere,’ I motion with my hand at the same time.  Clarence gives a thumbs up as the boat is turned.

The adrenalin eases off but the incident has left a stark reminder of just how dangerous this world is now, and how desperate people will be to protect what they’ve got.

Six

The fucking tide is going out.  I can’t get the boat close to the shore and end up getting it stuck on a sandbank about half a mile from the beach.  I ditch the boat and start wading through the water, it doesn’t take long before I’m splashing through ankle deep sea water and then onto the hard compacted sand.  There’s a big pier off to my right and the long golden beach stretches off far to my left before disappearing round a bend.  I had been able to tap into the eyes and ears of my fellow brethren before, but I can’t do it now.  I was connected to all of them intrinsically, but it feels like the connection has been broken.  I keep trying but nothing gets through.  Maybe it’ll come back when I make contact here; there must be some of my brothers and sisters here somewhere.

‘Little piggies little piggies, Smithy is here for you,’ singing the words over and over I get to the soft sand and walk towards the high concrete wall running the length of the beach.  Howie’s little piggies must have left some signs of where they went.  Maybe there’s another Smithy here, a super zombie like me.  Connected to all his own undead like I was.  Ha, like a franchise or something.  I get the south coast and this fucker would get the Isle of Shite.  Fuck him, I’ll kill him and take over.  Might be a girl super zombie though.  Fuck it; I’ll kill whoever it is.  Cunts, dirty fucking cunts trying to make me be a slave zombie.  I’m not a fucking slave zombie, who do they think they are?  Fucking outrageous.  It’s not right, trying to make me take orders.  I give orders I don’t fucking take them.  They’re dead whoever they are.  They can suck my zombie cock if they think they can rule me.

I step through a gap in the wall and onto the promenade.  It looks nice, clean and fresh.  Flower beds and pretty little gardens.  The narrow road seems to loop round a long deep depression in the ground.  I cross the road and see the depression is a lake.  Big white plastic pedalo’s shaped like swans are tied up in the middle and shit loads of real swans swim about.  The pond is oval shaped with a building at one end.  I walk towards the building, humming to myself and watching the swans.

The building has a swimming pool inside.  Looking through the window I see a corpse floating in the water face down.  Stupid cunt must have drowned.  Who goes swimming when the zombie apocalypse is upon them?  Stupid fucking Isle of Shite people, inbred with webbed feet probably.  I bet the super zombie here is an inbred fucktard too, making all the poor normal zombies do all the work while he shags his sister.  Dirty fucking inbred cunt.

There’s no sign of life here.  Ha, no sign of life.  What did I expect? A street party?  Fuck you.  I keep walking along the promenade heading towards the shitty town.  The road is bordered on one side by big houses set back behind long gardens.  Probably where they sat and wanked themselves off at how lucky there were to live here.  Before long I’m near the town, passing a bowling alley and ice rink.  I duck down quickly, seeing a group of figures in the distance.  There’s dried and congealed blood all over the place here.  Rotting corpses litter the street.  Signs of zombie mayhem everywhere and my little zombie heart flutters at the promising sight.  I move forward, cautiously flitting between walls and smashed up vehicles until I get close enough to see the figures are my lovely brothers and sisters all gathered in front of the front door’s to a big hotel.  I stay still for a few minutes and check there are no hero’s nearby, wielding axes or trying to be like super golden bollocks Howie.  Nothing obvious so I saunter across the road.

The thick fucking idiots don’t notice me coming.  No wonder they’re so easy to kill if they don’t take the time or effort to even glance around once in a while.  They smell wonderful, rotten, rancid and fetid.  I breathe deeply, inhaling the magical aroma and admiring their advanced state of decomposition.  They really haven’t been taking care of themselves very well.  They look hungry the poor blighters.  I stand for a few minutes with my arms crossed, they still don’t notice me.  So I cough politely and watch as they start to shuffle round until they’re all facing me.

‘Take me to your leader,’ I command, half joking but they just stare back at me.  Stupid cunts.  I try to focus and get into their minds like I did before with my lot.  I can’t connect though.  Some of them are standing at the top of some steps, constantly walking forward into a closed door.  I walk up the stairs, pushing them gently away until I reach the door.  I push the handle down and pull it open, stupid fucking fuckwits would have stood there for eternity waiting for the magical wall to move out of the way.  They groan louder and start shuffling into the lobby of the hotel.  Once inside I realise why they were standing outside.  The smell of human’s is strong here.  There are survivors inside.  The group stagger forward, heads lolling about and feet shuffling along the floor.  For a laugh I act like they do, rolling my head about and pushing drool out of my mouth but it gets boring and I give up within a couple of minutes.

The smell of the humans drives them on and I can’t help but get caught up in the moment of the chase.  The sense of urgency increases as the scent grows stronger.  Body odour both stale and fresh, shit and piss.  I can even smell vomit and it’s like rose water to my nose.   The biggest scent is fear, I can smell their fear.  It’s mixed in the sweat and leaves a pheromone trail which the zombies pick up on like ants.

The hotel has an old style décor, with dark wood doors and walls. Old floral wallpaper and gilt picture frames adorn the walls.  The horde follow corridors, stopping each time they reach a fire door that opens inwards, too stupid to figure out how to pull the handle.  The thing inside me was smart and enabled me to drive my brethren on, I could manipulate and make them love me, make them adore me and I’m frustrated that these moronic shambling creatures are not responding to me.  I keep up with them, opening doors and gaining them access to the succulent brains they so desire.  This fucking hotel is like a rabbit warren; fucking corridors everywhere.  We’re like foxes hunting the rabbits down, terrier dogs sent in to flush them out.  I ate a little white bunny rabbit a few hours ago.  Poor little white bunny hopping about with his long velvety ears and then nasty zombie Smithy comes along and takes a big bitey witey out of him.

The horde stop ahead of me, prevented from moving forward by yet another door.  This one has a sign warning of a steep staircase beyond.  Ahh, they’re hiding in the cellar.  The good old fashioned cellar eh, those cheeky little survivors thinking they can tuck themselves away in the dark recesses.  Judging by the smell, they must have been down there the whole week, shitting in pots and drinking their own piss.  Well they didn’t reckon on meeting Smithy the super zombie did they.  Cunts.  Speaking of which, I turn to the nearest undead.

‘Have you got a super zombie in charge round here?’ I ask him, he drools back at me with those gorgeous red eyes staring blankly.  Poor sod, he looks hungry.

‘Come on chum; let’s see if we can’t get you some lunch eh?  I try the handle but the door is locked securely from within.  It’s a solid door and it will take some effort to batter it down.  I clear my throat and knock on the door, three heavy knocks and I smile at the thought of the people inside all shitting themselves and staring up the staircase.

I knock again and start giggling, the zombies round me are groaning and I put my finger to my lips and try to shush them quiet.

‘Be quiet or they’ll hear us,’ I giggle again and knock again, harder this time.

‘Hello?’ I shout out, ‘is anyone there?’  No response and I knock again.

‘Er hello? Listen I know you’re down there.  I have some very hungry zombies up here so will you please open up and let us eat your brains….please.’  Still no response.

‘Listen, we’re not going away and we will get in.’ I bang my foot against the door repeatedly; the sound echoes round the corridor and shakes the frame.

‘Come on! We just want one of you.  I can tell you’ve got a whole group down there.  Just send one out and we’ll leave you alone.’  I press my ear to the door, listening to the low murmur of voices.  I start banging my foot again.  Steady and rhythmic, knowing it must be scaring the shit out of them.  My nose twitches and I scent that we are literally scaring the shit out of at least one of them.

‘Just one, come on just send one out.  We’ll eat him or her really quickly and I promise they won’t suffer.’ The murmurings intensify; several voices now then the tread of soft footsteps coming up the staircase behind the door.  I listen intently as the footsteps get closer until they stop, the person must be standing on the other side of the door now.  I pull my foot back, slam it into the door and hear someone jump back.

‘Ha, made you jump didn’t I?’

‘What do you want?’ A male voice calls out, a deep voice trying to sound confident and strong.

‘Brains…we want brains,’ I laugh at myself, ‘no but seriously we do need something to eat please.  Can you send one out, just an old one.  A shitty hotel like this must have been packed with old duffers.  Just send the oldest one out, that’ll do us.’

‘Fuck off mate, there’s a few of us down here and we’re armed too.  Try and get in and see what happens.’

‘Hey no need for that aggression is there?’

‘You sick fucking…fucking…’

‘Fucking what? Sick fucking what?’

‘Well you’re just sick.’

‘Good comeback.’

‘Fuck off.’

‘No you fuck off.’

‘Get fucked.’

‘No you get fucked.’

‘We’re not opening the door and if you try and get in we’ll cut you to pieces.’

‘No you get cut to pieces.’

‘What?’

‘That one didn’t work very well did it?’

‘Not really.’

‘Can we try again?’

‘Try what?’

‘Exchanging  insults.’

‘Listen mate, just fuck off.’

‘Ah thanks, er…no you fuck off.’

‘This is stupid, go away.’

‘No you’re stupid.’

‘Do you want them things to find you? You fucking idiot.’

‘What things…er…you’re the fucking idiot.’

‘Stop doing that.’

‘Doing what?’

‘Repeating things back to me.’

‘No you stop repeating things.’

‘If you keep making so much noise they’ll find you, now piss off and make some noise somewhere else.’

‘They already found me.’

‘Who did?’

‘Those things…the zombies…they already found me.  I am one.’

‘What!?’

‘I am one of those things.’

‘Don’t be so bloody stupid now piss off before they get you.’

‘No, really I am one.  Actually, to be honest I’m a super zombie.’

‘You bloody dick, piss off.’

‘No really I am.  These others just stand about drooling but I can speak and think.’

‘Oh yeah, and how did that happen then?’

‘Well, to cut a long story short; I was a recruit for the territorial army at Salisbury when this happened.  We got through the weekend but then this bloke called Howie, and his mate Dave came and sort of rescued us to try and get this big vehicle called a Saxon.  We helped them and had a big fight and then went to London to try and rescue his sister.  But on the way we got stuck at some services and loads of zombie rats tried getting us.  I reckon I got infected then but I’m not too sure on that point.  Anyways… we carried on and met this bloke called Chris and his mates Clarence and Malcolm.  We went to a hospital to get some things for their commune and then tried to get the sister.  Big battle, lots of blood.  I got dragged in and turned and McKinney got chomped a bit too.  So that’s when I became a super zombie and I made all the other zombies be in my army.  Saw Howie on Tower Bridge, we shouted at each other a bit; you know… difference of artistic direction, that kind of thing.  He said some things, I said some things.  I said my army was going to get him, he said his army was going to get all the other zombies.  Ended up with us, my zombie army that is, chasing him down to this fort on the coast.  But, things didn’t quite work out really.  Dave, Howie’s mate that is, well he set these traps and loads of my zombies got killed.  Then there was a big battle and well, if I’m honest about it, I didn’t really plan that well and we kind of lost.  But I did manage to get a few of his mates killed, er, I think it was Curtis, Tucker and Malcolm, maybe more.  Definitely Jamie though, I got him myself.  So, long story short I had to leg it figuring that Howie was coming after me, but then I found this rabbit and it made me think of the Isle of Wight and I realised he’d sent them all here.’

‘Who sent what here?’

‘Oh sorry, I meant Howie; he sent the women and children here.  That’s why I’m here; to get them before he does.’

‘What? What for?’

‘To eat them of course, have you not been listening?’

‘You need help.’

‘Are you volunteering?’

‘Not that kind of help, you need mental help.’

‘So, that’s where we are now.  I’m looking about to try and find them and I saw my brothers and sisters looking hungry so I thought I’d try and help them out.’

‘You’re nuts.  Fucking nuts.  Piss off.’

‘No you piss off, no hang on; I’m not doing that again.  Listen, we will get in and chomp everyone if we have to, or…you can chuck an old one out.’

‘It’s some lunatic saying he’s a super zombie,’ the man shouts down the stairs, ‘I have told him to piss off.’

This hotel is old, and the cellar would have been used for storing all manner of things in the old days before fridges and freezers.  There must be another entrance at street level, so they could take deliveries without having to go through the hotel and scare the old fuckers.  I move away and start heading back down the corridor, to my pleasant surprise the horde follow me.  I wasn’t expecting that.  Leading them back through the corridors we reach the front door and go outside, the horde following close behind me.  I have to move slowly because of their daytime shuffle.

Outside I spy a set of railings fixed round some concrete steps leading to a wooden door with a small hatch cut into it at head height.  I pull the gate open and head down, my horde follow me until we’re all crammed into the bottom and backed up on the stairs.  I try again to connect to them, so I can send some round to the other door we were just at, but I just can’t seem to do it now.

I bang on the door again, call out and wait for a few seconds.  The same voice from the other door calls out, telling me to fuck off.

‘Open the hatch and you’ll see I’m a super zombie.’

‘You’re a fucking nut is what you….’ The man’s mouth falls open and his voice trails off as he peers out of the now open hatch.  Metal bar’s prevent me from lunging at him.

‘Hiya!’ I lift my hand and wiggle my fingers, smiling in all my dirty undead glory.

‘Fuck me…’

‘No thanks, I’m not that kind of zombie.  Now about that lunch we were discussing.’

‘Jesus, you’re one of them.’

‘Don’t call me that, and yes I am one of them, sort of, kind of.’

‘But you can speak.’

‘Well fuck a duck, look who’s being Mr clever clogs.’  He stares back open mouthed and turns to say something to the people inside.  More faces squeeze into view, peering out at me.  I smile and nod politely at them in turn.

‘Hi. Hello there. Nice to meet you.  How are you today? All the time grinning and wiggling my fingers at them.  The first man comes back into view.

‘Can you see my horde?’ I motion to the side and watch him leaning over to look up the stairs, taking in all the mortified drooling undead.  He looks back and nods.

‘Good, now we’re on the same frequency John…’

‘My name isn’t John.’

‘You look like a John, anyway John, now we’re on the same level.  How about our deal eh?’

‘What deal?’ He sounds shocked to the core and the scent of fear has increased rapidly causing my little horde to get all agitated.

‘Now now John, we had a deal.  You’re going to send someone out for us to eat.  My little lambs here need some nourishment.’

‘I can’t….We can’t….please.’

‘Oh you will John, you will send someone out because you know what the alternative is don’t you John?  Yes you do.  One or all.  I will get inside one way or the other; I could burn this door down, or maybe even set fire to the hotel.  There’s no fire service anymore John, no police and you can swing your knives and weapons about all day long but once we’re inside you are all dead, now I will give you a minute to send someone out or we’re coming in.’

‘Please mate, I can’t…’

‘Time is ticking John and it’s not far from getting dark.  You know what happens when it gets dark don’t you John.’  He nods back, leaning over again to look at the undead around me.

‘Please don’t do this, please just leave us alone.’ His voice is pleading, tears stream down his face.  More sobs and crying come from inside.

‘Up to you John,’ I turn and start going through the pockets of my zombies, pulling out bits of paper and receipts.  Eventually I find what I’m looking for.

‘Ah, here we are,’ I take the lighter and set fire to a piece of paper.  It’s only small but I drop it down to the bottom of the door and start adding more bits of paper and dried leaves that have gathered in the disused stairwell.  Smoke starts billowing out and from the screams inside I know it’s going into the cellar.

‘Okay, okay,’ John who is not John shouts in alarm.

‘What’s that John?’

‘Okay, put it out, put it out,’ screams and sobs emanate from inside joined by raised voices, loud and aggressive. ‘We’ll send someone out,’ his voice breaks with emotion.  I stamp down on the small flames, quickly extinguishing them.

‘That can be started again very quickly John.’

‘We’ll do it, I swear but if we open this door you’ll try and get in,’ he’s sobbing hard now, not so much the tough guy anymore is he? Stupid fat cunt.

‘If we send one out do you promise to leave us alone?’ He begs.

‘No I don’t fucking promise anything you fat turd now send one out or I’ll torch this fucking building down and eat you while you’re cooking.’  The hatch slams shut and I lean forward smiling at the shouting and bedlam going on inside. ‘Lunch is almost ready, have you washed your hands? No, oh well,’ I smile at my lovelies all watching me expectantly.

‘Please, please just move back, we’ll send him out now.’

‘Roger dodger,’ I call back, pushing my beautiful babies back up the stairs, ‘come on, come on move back a little.’  We get to the top and gather round the railings, staring down into the basement.  The hatch opens quickly and John who is not John quickly looks out, I wave down at him and the hatch slams shut at the same time as the door opens.  An old man walks quickly out and stands there as the door is slammed shut again.

‘Hello,’ I smile down at him.  He looks up, tall, straight backed and dignified.  He looks ancient and weathered but not scared.  He looks back at me without fear, staring into my eyes.

‘Young man,’ he nods once, his voice old but strong.

‘So were you forced out or did you volunteer?’ He stares back and takes a long withering look at me before he answers.

‘I volunteered, I am old and death does not frighten me.  Now, let’s get this over with shall we?’ He starts climbing the stairs slowly, using the handrail.  He reaches the top and pauses by the gate, blocked by the zombies standing there salivating messily down their chins.

‘Move back, let the man out,’ surprisingly the zombies do as bid and move away from the gate shuffling backwards but keeping their gaze fixed on him.  The old man steps out from the gate and turns to stare down at me.  Bushy eyebrows and wrinkled skin but the eyes are bright and intelligent, I notice his fists clenching.

‘There’s fight in the old dog,’ I smile at him.

‘I won’t fight you; you’ll hurt the others if I don’t do as you ordered.’

‘If I want them, I’ll take them.  You fighting back won’t make any difference at all.’ His eyes stay fixed on mine, a glimmer in them.  This old boy wants to go out fighting.

I nod at the zombies surrounding him, I can’t connect to them but they seem to understand what I’m telling them.  Their groans rise audibly and they shuffle forward, pulling lips back and baring dirty yellowing teeth.

‘You filthy fiends,’ the man shouts and punches out surprisingly hard for such an old fucker.  He connects and sends one flying back.  I laugh at the sight and watch as he tries to skip round, punching out with straight jabs.  Knocking my lovelies about like a bunch of walking punch bags.

‘Go on, get him,’ I shout out and they lunge in harder, he keeps punching out, knocking them back.

‘Ha, I boxed in the army,’ the old man shouts in triumph.  I dart in and kick him hard in the back of the knee, he drops down with a loud yelp and I punch him hard to the back of the head, sending him sprawling onto the ground.

‘Take him, but not too much.  This old fucker might be useful.’ I watch in rapture as my lovelies descend.  My heart beats faster and I feel a growing sense of excitement as their teeth rip flesh from the backs of his legs and arms.  One goes for the neck and I push him away with my foot.  He cowers down, crawls back into the feeding pile.  I wait for a few seconds until they’ve each had a bite then order them away.  They respond and break apart, shuffling back.  I crouch down and hold my face close to an open wound on the back of one of his meaty thighs.  The smell of fresh blood makes my mouth pour with saliva.  I reach my tongue out, gently touching the wound and savouring the taste.  The urge to bite down is almost over-powering but I hold off, torturing myself with the knowledge that I can take that bite if I want to.  Seconds pass as I gently lick at the wound, my tongue tingling from the metallic taste of it.  It’s too much, I can’t resist, I bite down and murmur with orgasmic satisfaction as I chew on the still warm, soft meat.

Standing back, we gather in a circle, watching the body.  The wound was bleeding openly but within seconds of the infection taking hold the bleeding slows.  Then the limbs start to twitch and the body jerks a couple of times.  He rolls over onto his back, his legs kicking out in spasm.  He sits up and opens his eyes.  The red bloodshot eyes of the undead.

‘Welcome aboard.  Now get up, we’ve got work to do.’

Seven

‘Is it a boat?’

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

‘How the fuck can you see that from this distance Dave?’  He shrugs, never taking his eyes from the object berthed on the sand way off in the distance.  Fair enough I guess.  What else would it be stuck out on the sand like that?  But for Dave to actually see it clearly is staggering, the man never ceases to amaze me.  The tide has gone out, leaving a vast stretch of sand between the sea and the shoreline.  Even the last hundred metres of the sea is too shallow for us to go into without risk of beaching our rib.  We’ve already circled the end of the pier, a massive structure built on pylons embedded into the earth.  The pier must be at least half a mile long and is shaped like a hammer with large buildings built onto the T section at the end.  There was nothing obvious on the pier, no collection of boats tied up and no signs of life either.  We moved off, keeping the shore on our right until we saw the dark object on the sand in the distance.

‘It must be his,’ Nick mutters quietly now the engine is just ticking over.

‘What makes you say that?’ Clarence asks.

‘The tide has only just gone out, which means the boat was taken in towards the land and beached.  Otherwise the boat would be a lot closer to the shore.  That boat got stuck there as the tide went out. ‘

‘Makes sense,’ I say.

‘The sea bed here is smooth sand, once the tide comes back in that boat will re-float and get pulled all over the place, probably into the pier.’

‘So that must be either his boat, or someone else that decided to come for a daytrip.  What are the chances of that?’

‘Not very likely Mr Howie,’ Nick replies.

‘Okay mate, let’s shoot along and see if we can see the other’s boats anywhere.  It might give an indication where they went.’ Nick pushes the lever over and once again the engines roar into life, lifting the front of the boat up.  I catch a glimpse of Dave gripping the rails but staring hard at the boat on the sand.

‘I’ll have to move out in case of sandbanks,’ Nick shouts, turning the wheel and angling us away from the shore line a little further.  Dave keeps his eyes fixed on the beach, Blowers and Cookey do the same, having ditched the jokes for a while. I should have brought some binoculars.

More haste less speed or something like that.  No, more speed less haste.  Don’t they mean the same thing?  I shake my head to clear the confusing thoughts and focus on the beach.  A town is built onto a steep hill at the end of the pier, big old Victorian buildings painted white.  Church spires and tower tops fixed to the tops of roofs.  It does look beautiful and old.  Something from long ago, a distant time when things were built for beauty and not just for their practical worth or cost effectiveness.

The town gives way to a large green open area running alongside the golden beach.  That in turn ends abruptly at a high wall that towers over the sea.  We keep moving on, looking hard for any signs of boats.  Another town alongside the shore now, no pier this time though.  It looks to be just a small village and I figure the Island will have loads of these all round the coast, which could make our hunt very hard.  We follow the coast as it sweeps round a long curve, more beaches bordered by green area’s come into view but still no sign of boats.

‘HOWIE,’ Clarence is shouting and pointing in the distance to another round fort built into the sea, this one looks smaller than the other two and is built a lot closer to the land.  I nod at Nick, motioning for him to head that way.  He powers on some more, glancing down at the fuel gauge.  The boat flies across the water and within minutes we’re again circling a fort.  This one looks like the first, old and derelict with big signs warning people to stay off and the same style of locked gate.  I shake my head and turn to face the others.

‘Isn’t there a harbour anywhere near here?’ Blowers calls out, ‘if the tide is out now, it might have been in when they got here.  They could have gone right into the harbour….if there is one.’  I shrug my shoulders.

‘Try back towards the pier; we’ll check the other side.  We’re so far out from shore we can’t see a bloody thing.’  Nick nods and spins the boat round again, powering on and we slip into silence; drowned out once again by the loud engines.

A few hundred metres from the pier  Dave is shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand and waving the other in my direction.  I tap Nick on the arm and he instantly pulls the lever back, gliding the boat to a slow pace.

‘Over there, looks like masts,’ Dave shouts out.  I look ahead but can see nothing of any detail from this distance.

‘I can’t see anything,’ I call down.

‘There is something there, a wall coming out onto the beach,’ Cookey shouts.

‘Might be a harbour wall,’ Dave adds, keeping his eyes fixed in that direction.  Looking round I see that the beached boat isn’t that far away.  Darren could have been aiming for the harbour when he got cut off by the receding tide.

‘We’ll go for it here then.  Nick, get us in as close as you can and we’ll wade in.’

‘Got it,’ Nick points the boat towards the shore and powers on enough to push us forward until we’re in the shallows.  The sandy sea bed is clearly visible through the clear water.  The boat grinds against the bottom and Nick cuts the engine before moving back to pull it out of the water.

‘Have a look for an anchor,’ he shouts.  We all start mooching about, realising the seats lift up to reveal cupboard space within them.

‘Is this it?’ Blowers lifts a heavy metal looking thing shaped like a cross, a long rope attached to the end.

‘No, that’s the flare gun,’ Nick replies in a sarcastic tone.

‘Alright Captain Blackbeard, keep your hair on.  Do I chuck it over then?’ Blowers asks.

‘Yes mate, it might help,’ Nick says, fiddling about with the engine.  Blowers chucks the anchor over and Cookey bursts out laughing, causing Nick to spin round and see Blowers going red in the face.

‘Fucking idiot didn’t tie it on,’ Cookey says, still laughing.

‘Piss off Cookey, I’m not into seamen like you.’

‘Who chucks an anchor over without tying it on first, and you joined the Royal Marines too.’

‘Cookey get fucked, and I was only in the Marines for a few weeks.’

‘Why? Did you lose their anchor too?’

Dave shakes his head, his bag already on his back.  He jumps over into the knee high water and lifts the anchor back into the boat which prompts Cookey to stop laughing but Blowers to start.

‘Lost the anchor did I?’

‘Yeah well, you still chucked it over without tying it on.’ Cookey retorts.  Dave ties the rope on and drops the anchor down into the sea again.  By that time we’re all ready and sliding over the rubber inflated skirt into the warm sea.  I scoop water into my hands and wash my face, within seconds the hot sun has dried the water and I feel the tightness on my skin from the drying salt.

It takes several minutes to wade through the shallow water and start crossing the sand and I’m sweating freely already.  After the constant noise of the engines, the silence is profound.  Looking about I think of the gorgeous weather and how packed this beach would have been before the event happened.  It goes on though, the beach is still here and the sea comes in and goes out.  The seagulls fly down to snatch at the crabs scuttling about.  Life goes on.  Maybe we’re just one species that has come to a natural end.  Maybe that’s what happened to the dinosaurs, the giant meteor that wiped them out was carrying a zombie virus that turned them all into undead dinosaurs.  That would have been a good film; Jurassic Zombie Park.

We walk close to the boat left on the sand and I can see what Nick meant now.  The boat is resting as though dropped by the tide.  It wouldn’t be like that if it had been floating about for a few days.  Someone has been here very recently and Darren is the logical choice.  Which means that Dave was right; he is going after the women and children.  The thought makes me focus harder and without words being spoken, we all increase our pace.

Dave was right.  The wall is part of the harbour, long white masts stand to attention, some with flags hanging limp in the still air.  As we get closer we can see that with the tide out, the bottom of the harbour has a thick layer of mud so we skirt round the outside of the harbour wall and walk up through the soft sand and onto the promenade.  Finally standing on firm ground with the sun drying our wet trousers each of us, apart from Dave is already hot and sweaty.  We walk along the promenade silently, looking all around in case of any undead lurking about, waiting to lunge and bite.  None of us trusting that they will be the same slow shuffling daytime zombies that we might expect.

Reaching the harbour entrance we walk along the high outer path and stare down at the myriad of boats and yachts moored up to the pontoons.  There are many boats here, of all shapes and sizes and none of us have any idea what vessels they used to transport the members of our group.

‘Any ideas which ones they used?’ I say quietly.

‘Hang on Mr Howie,’ Dave replies quietly.  He jogs down one of the steep ramps to the pontoons and runs the length of the closest one, back onto the main walkway and up the next one.  Half way up the third he drops down to examine something, picks it up and looks about before heading back towards us.  He hands over a shiny, metallic object.

‘It’s a police badge,’ Clarence remarks, ‘like they have on their hats.’

‘Ted! The canny old bugger, he would have left it there on purpose,’ I exclaim with a smile.

‘So they came in here then?’ Blowers asks, looking about as he speaks, ‘which way now though?’

‘Dave, if you were leading them, where would you take them?’ He doesn’t hesitate before answering.

‘I would have shot that man on the fort and taken that.’

‘Okay…Clarence, what would you do?’

‘Stay away from the town, it’s a big group and very vulnerable.  I would head away from denser area’s and try to get rural, somewhere defensible where I can hole up for a couple of days at least.’

‘Ted was in the services and he’s a switched on bloke.  Plus they’ve got the Navy captain with them. I reckon he would do the same thing.  So that’ll be that way then,’ I motion down the beach, away from the town and the pier.  Clarence nods back firmly.

‘Movement,’ Nick mutters, we turn round to see him facing back on the promenade towards a children’s fairground built onto a big grassy area.

‘Where?’ Dave asks.

‘In the fairground, a couple of figures moving about.’

‘Zombies?’

‘Can’t tell from here, just saw them flitting between the gaps in the fence.’ Nick replies.

‘More from the other direction,’ Cookey says quietly.  I look down the promenade and see a horde moving towards us, unmistakable in their slow jerky movements.

‘Ten,’ Dave answers before anyone asks.

‘Opposite,’ Clarence says, more coming from across the grass.  A reasonable sized horde clustered together but spreading out.

‘I think Smithy has prepared a welcome for us,’ Blowers comments under his breath.

‘We’ve got the sea behind us, well a big muddy harbour anyway and zombies on three sides boxing us in.  Run or fight? What do you fancy?’

‘It’s too hot to run anywhere,’ Clarence rumbles, ‘and besides, they’ll only follow us anyway.’

‘True, fight it is then.  Let’s move out from here, I don’t fancy scrapping next to these high walls,’ I say, looking down at the squidgy mud beneath us.

Walking out of the harbour and onto the grassy area I see more zombies coming from the direction of the fairground, at least another ten.

‘Twelve,’ Dave says, correcting me as if he knew what I was thinking, which he probably did.

‘Fuck me, that makes it about thirty of them and six of us,’ I say.

‘Thirty three,’ Dave says.

‘So how many is that each?’ I start doing the math in my head.

‘Five and a half each,’ Dave replies instantly.

‘Half each? How are we going to do that then?’

‘We could each take our five each and then share the left over’s,’ Cookey says.

‘What’s that? Three left over if we take five each?’

‘Yes,’ Dave says.

‘How are we going to share three between six of us?’ I ask.

‘Take them as pairs?’ Nick offers.

‘Okay, yeah I like that.  Actually, we got three lots coming at us and three pairs, how about a friendly wager between gentlemen?’ I say.

‘I’m up for that,’ Clarence smiles back, the others are smiling and nodding.

‘Right, teams? I guess it will be Blowers and Cookey, Nick and Clarence then me and Dave.’

‘Not fair,’ Blowers replies quickly, ‘you’ve got Dave and Nick’s got Clarence and I’m stuck with the bum lord here.’

‘Fuck you Blowers, Mr Howie can I swap please?’ Cookey says.

‘For fuck’s sake, Clarence are you okay with Cookey? And Nick you go with Blowers.’

‘Still not fair though, Nick remarks, ‘you’ve got Dave so you’re bound to win, er no offence Clarence.’

‘None taken.’ He rumbles.

‘Fuck me backwards, okay Dave you’re only allowed to use one knife.’

‘Okay Mr Howie.’

‘No, no knives at all makes it fair,’ Cookey says, Clarence is smiling and shaking his head.

‘Dave, no knives at all.’

‘Really?’ Dave asks.

‘But, that means Clarence can’t use weapons either,’ Nick says.

‘No hang on, that means you and Blowers get to use weapons, while me and Mr Howie are handicapped with partners just using their hands,’ Cookey says, getting a glare from Clarence and Dave at the same time, ‘er but that’s fine though…’ he adds quickly.

‘Right, we agreed then? Dave and Clarence no weapons unless they deem it appropriate, in which case the bet is off.  First pair back here with all their zombies dead is the winner.’

‘What about the loser?’ Clarence asks.

‘Er, the loser has to make the first brew for everyone when we find somewhere suitable, happy?’  They nod back in agreement.

‘Clarence, if Cookey tries touching you just tell him to stop, he gets a bit touchy feely gropey when he’s excited,’ Blowers says in mock earnest.

‘You’re such a twat Blowers,’ Cookey says with a long sigh. We break apart, Blowers and Cookey exchanging more insults and abuse as we turn to face our sides.  Dave and I walking slowly towards the horde coming across the grass.  Dave looks almost sulky.

‘What’s up with you?’ I ask him.

‘I like knives,’ he replies in a downbeat voice.

‘I know mate, it’s only for this time.  You can use them again next time.’

‘Okay Mr Howie.’

‘I’ll go left, you go right, meet in the middle?’ He nods back at me.

‘Ready Dave?’

‘Yes Mr Howie.’ The horde are stretched out in a line and I move over to the far left watching them track me with their eyes.  Gripping the axe tight I take no chances in trusting they’ll keep to the slow daytime shuffle and move round the back of them.  Watching as they start to stagger round to face me.  I take the opportunity and move in quickly; striking the first one through the neck and taking his head clean off.  I step backwards and check around me, then dart in and sweep the axe down, cleaving into the skull of an undead female, splitting her cranium apart and spilling brains out onto her shoulders before she sags down.

A quick glance and I can see Dave has already taken three down and is on his fourth.  Violently wrenching the head sideways to break the neck.  I swing the double headed axe into the stomach of the next one, cutting deep into their midriff and watching bright red innards falling out.  Punching down into the face as I draw the axe back I turn for the next one to find them all down and Dave standing there watching me.

‘I only got three.’

‘Sorry, did you want more Mr Howie?’

‘Bit late now, unless they come back again as undead undead’s.’  Turning to check on the others, I see Clarence lifting his last one up bodily before dropping it down hard on his knee, breaking the spine.  He rolls the body off his leg and looks over, both of us realising we’ve each finished and sprinting back to the start at the same time.  We both dive forward and land in a heap, laughing and giggling like idiots, trying to push each other away.

‘Ah fucking hell,’ Blowers moans as he and Nick both look at their last standing zombie, an old man with big bushy eyebrows.  ‘We’ve lost,’ he adds sorely.  The old man undead shuffles closer to Blowers then suddenly darts forward with speed.  We shout a warning and Blowers ducks out the way.  The old man zombie turns with surprising dexterity and faces Blowers again, before raising his fists in a boxing pose and going at Blowers with a fast pace, throwing straight jabs at Blowers’ head.

Blowers ducks and weaves backwards, instinctively raising his own fists to protect his face.  He lashes out and the old man blocks the punch, throwing another one which just misses Blowers as he ducks down.

‘What’s he doing?’ Cookey shouts in alarm, watching Blowers trading punches with an ancient zombie boxer.

‘He’s quick, I’ll give him that,’ Clarence says, watching the spectacle.

‘Who, Blowers or the zombie?’ I ask.

‘The zombie, he’s very quick and he looks fresh too.  No decay and the wound on the back of his leg is still open.’

‘He’s just been turned then,’ I say.  Dave has drawn his handgun and tracks the zombie darting about and throwing punches at Blowers.

Blowers suddenly speeds up and launches a flurry of body blows on the zombie, sending him reeling backwards.  He keeps up the barrage, carefully avoiding hitting the zombie in the face but landing blows everywhere else, including the side of his head with powerful hooks.

‘BLOWERS, MOVE BACK,’ Dave shouts, still trying to track the zombie with his pistol.

‘I’ve got him,’ Blowers shouts back.

‘MOVE BACK NOW,’ Dave roars, Blowers instantly does as he’s told.  Dave holsters his weapon and runs towards the zombie, drawing a knife and sweeping it across the old man’s throat.  He savagely jerks the head back as he does it, forcing the zombie to fall face down on the ground.

‘DON’T EVER DO THAT AGAIN,’ Dave roars at a stunned Blowers.

‘You could cut your hands and get his blood in you, show me your hands.’

‘But I thought of that and didn’t hit his face,’ Blowers replies meekly.

‘Show me your hands,’ Dave says, his voice still hard edged.  Blowers holds his hands out palms down as Dave inspects them closely.

‘I’m really sorry Dave,’ Blowers says, he looks crest fallen.  Any of us would being told off by Dave like that, ‘I did avoid hitting his face in case I cut myself.’

‘He’s already bleeding and we still don’t know how Darren got infected,’ Dave replies quickly.

‘I’m sorry Dave,’ Blowers repeats, looking ashamed and embarrassed.

‘It’s done now,’ Dave drops his hands and starts to turn away, ‘good moves though, good skills, well done.  We’ll practise more of that later,’ Dave adds in a softer tone.  I’m both stunned and amazed at Dave showing awareness of someone else’s feelings like that, ‘and you’re making the brews later.’

This time my mouth drops open.

Eight

I’ve made a connection, that old fucker from the hotel cellar.  It must have been the blood I took from him.  If I’d known that I would have brought that old crow I bit in the shop with me.  I can’t see through his eyes but there’s definitely a connection there.  As soon as he got up off the ground I knew he was mine.  It’s got to be the blood we shared.  I wonder if it works with other bodily fluids or just blood.

Those fucking wanking fucktards, standing over there on the grass chatting all cool and heroic while my lovelies surround them.  I only sent a few in, save the rest for later.  I’ve been a busy boy running round this shitty little town collecting up my groupies.  Although I can’t connect to them, they still follow me.  And that old boy, well he’s a peach.  There’s something there, a feeling of control, a bit like before when I had my army only not so strong.  I can will him to move and do things but I can’t see or hear anything from him.  Oh well, make the best of a bad lot I say.  But those utter cunts, I fucking hate them.  I fucking detest them, I’m going to rip their fucking heads off and unload my zombie runny turds down their throats.  No, better than that; I’ll tie them down and get my lovelies to hold their mouths open while I shit down their still living throats.  Yeah, fuck yeah.  Infection by poo. Fuck you Howie, eat my shit.

I stand across the road in some gardens, peering through the bushes like some dirty voyeur.  The stupid cunts were racing up and down the sea in a high powered boat, letting every zombie in the town know they’re coming.  Fucking cock chops, what did they expect? Using a fucking great boat like that and then storming up the beach like a bunch of invading twats.

I blame Dave the nasty little runtcunt.  Dave the cuntrunt.  Cuntrunt Dave.  Now look at them, going off in pairs and taking my babies out.  You wait though, you fucking wait for my old boy.  Couldn’t work out better than Blowers and that thick fucker Nick going over to him.  Oh look at Dave snapping necks like a regular Rambo, and Clarence chucking them about like dolls.  I can see Howie and my zombie cock twitches with the thought of watching him die right now.  Ha, there’s my old boy giving it the slow shuffle and waiting for Blowers to get in nice and close.

Fuck me, he was quick, he’s throwing punches like a right old brawler.  Look at him go, straight for Blowers.  One-two, yeah go on smash his fucking teeth in.  Blowers is quick though and ducks about smacking my lovely old man about.  This is fucking classic, watching Blowers getting ragged about by an old man until Dave shouts and stabs him in the neck.  Fucking spoilsport.  He ruins everything.  He has to fucking take over doesn’t he?   Now look at him, standing there caressing Blowers hands, probably giving him a sly hand-job at the same time.

‘YOU UTTER FUCKING CUNTS,’ fuck me, did I just do that.  Oops, bit too soon.  Oh shit, they heard me; here they come; running like a bunch of girls.  I jump out, stick my fingers up and then leg it with billy big legs.

‘I WILL KILL YOU,’ that’s Dave roaring away with his big voice.  Gotta catch me first you stumpy little midget.  I run quickly with the advantage of already scouting the way.  Going down the side of the house and running down the street towards the town.  Come on you cunts, chase me.

Keep coming you fuckers.  I reach the end of the road and stand on the junction for a second until they come into view, Dave out front sprinting hard.  I wave and start running again.  Leading them down narrow streets and back towards the town.  I reach another junction with a steep hill going off to my left and the seafront down to my right.  I pause for a second to make sure they can see me and start off up the hill.

There’s an old derelict hotel up here that I spied earlier.  Perfect for what I’ve got in mind.  The hill is steep but the infection keeps me going, powering me on where-as before I would have collapsed on the ground by now, sucking on a cigarette.  Dirty things.  Funny that, I haven’t wanted one since I turned.  Hey, give up smoking and be a zombie!  Fuck, Dave is quick.  I pause just long enough to make sure they’re all coming and I run into the over grown grounds.  What was once a large car park is now covered in huge weeds and bushes.  I run round the back and open the door I prepared earlier and then run off in the other direction and over the high wall into an adjoining garden.  I slump down beneath the wall and get my breathing under control, listening for the footsteps of Dave and his merry men.

‘Round here,’ Dave bellows out and it’s not long before I hear the rest of them chugging into the grounds to join their stumpy little mate.

‘Where did he go?’ I hear Howie panting.

‘I lost him here,’ Dave answers.

‘That door’s open, he must have gone in there,’ Howie says.

‘Maybe, or he could have gone over that wall or round the other side,’ Dave says.

‘It’ll be dark soon we need to get off the street,’ that’s Clarence’s deep voice.

‘Fuck it, he must have gone in there,’ Howie says.

‘We going in?’ Blowers voice.

‘Yeah come on,’ Howie says.  My smile grows wide as I listen to them pushing the door open and entering the hotel.  Perfect, fucking perfect.  That hotel is huge and it will take them a while to work their way round, plus there are the little surprises I left for them.  Poor little babies locked in hotel rooms on their own.  Fuck it, might get a lucky bite out of one of them.

I wait another ten minutes until the shadows grow longer and the sky darkens.  They’ll be well within the building now.  Slowly peeking out over the top of the wall, I make sure they have gone inside and not left a trap for me.  No sign of them.  Good, I climb over and drop down on the other side.  I sneak over to the door and pull it closed, there’s an old padlock clasp on the door, attached to a loop on the wall.  I get the bit of metal I found earlier and jam it into the loop, securing the door closed.  Stupid fuckwits.  How did they win the battle with stupidity like this?

Running over the road and into a front garden, I work my way to the high wooden gate giving access to the rear garden.  Pushing it open I smile at the lovely horde all waiting for me.  I leave the gate open and move down a few houses, repeating the action.  Only forty or so zombies, not enough and I look into the sky, willing the sun to drop down and let the night begin.

I know what will happen and I feel a sense of excitement course through my wonderfully infected system.  The zombies shuffle out of their garden gates and slowly trudge across the road towards the hotel.  The last glimmer of sun high on the side of the hotel slowly slides up the wall.  Looking down the hill I can see the sea shimmering with golden rays as the sun drops down.  Any second now, come on you fucking cunts.  My foot is tapping with impatience at the still shuffling zombies, stupid fucking idiots.  Why don’t they speed up? Don’t they know Howie and his gang of zombie bashers are in that hotel?

Fuck yes! Here it is.  The sun drops and my lovelies all stand still, lifting their beautiful rotten faces to the sky.  The urge overtakes me and I do the same.  As one we roar out, letting all the other zombies know where we are.  Howling guttural wails fill the air as every undead across the land lifts their head and screams into the night.  Fuck you Howie, we’re not slow and shuffling now are we?  The howling ceases and my beauties come alive, moving faster and with purpose they pour across the road heading for the hotel.  I glance up and see pale faces peering out from the grimy windows.  They’ve heard the howling and come to look.  One of them must have seen me, he fires through the window and I just about duck down as the round whips by my head.

Fucking lovely, that shot will bring all my brothers and sisters here.  Couldn’t have been Dave firing, the lack of a new hole in my head tells me that.  Groans and scuffles come from all around me as zombies stagger towards the hotel.  Moving fast now, their movements more controlled and the evil presence of them intensifies.  Love it.  Fucking love it.

Now it’s nice and dark I keep to the shadows skirting the edge of the building, moving low between windows and glass paned doors.  The hotel has balconies on most levels, rising at least five stories up and I keep a close eye on them in case they fire down at me.  A large number of my zombies follow me, keeping up easily now it’s dark.  I lead them to the rear and pull the clasp open, shoving the door open and letting the zombies stagger inside.  After about twenty have passed through, I pull the door closed and re-fasten the clasp.  Leading more zombies round the side and looking for other entrances.  I want to leave groups at the doors and exit points to prevent the fuckers getting out, but there’s no control over these zombies and they just follow me about.  A full loop round the hotel and I’m back to the door at the rear, leading a huge horde with me.  There’s loads now, pouring in from all directions; drawn by the noise of the gunshot and activity and the smell of each other.   The only way to stop them following me is for me to lose them somehow, but I need to keep them here to trap Howie and his cunts.

Opening the door again I slip inside and let a few more follow me through seeing as there’s shit loads of them outside.  Once a few more have got in I push the door closed and force some poor zombie to stagger backwards.  Wedging a chair under the handle I move off deeper into the hotel.  The only light is from the bright moon shining through the windows.  I work my way quietly towards the front as my new horde get the smell of humans in their noses and start off into the deep recesses, following the scent trail.  An old fire exit marks my way out and I push the big metal handle down, easing the door open and squeezing out.  The door locks when I push it closed and I quickly dart across the road, ducking down in the shadows to turn back and watch for a bit.

My lovelies are all round the hotel now, groaning away with hunger as they sense survivors inside.  Howie and his bum-chum mates will have a nice surprise.  Couldn’t have worked out better.  Leaving them busy for the night, I move off to continue my search for Howie’s little piggies.

Nine

We enter the hotel and work our way through the corridors out into the main lobby by the front doors, now encrusted with grime and filth.  This hotel must have been grand once with wide rooms and high ceilings.  The main lobby has a huge spiral staircase leading to the upper floors.  A smashed up chandelier lies on the floor in the middle of the lobby.  Broken glass, smashed plates and crockery cover the carpet.  Furniture from the hotel bedrooms has been lobbed down from the upper floors too, adding to the debris.

The décor is old, really 1960’s with floral wall paper and a deep red carpet, dark wood and lots of brass fittings everywhere.  Staying together we work our way into a long ballroom with wooden floors and stacks of chairs piled up along the sides.  An old bar stands at one end, still with some glasses stacked on the shelves.  Dave and Clarence both scan the floor, pointing out fresh tread marks distinctive in the dust.

‘Someone definitely came through here very recently, looks like they went through here and into the lobby,’ Clarence comments, squatting down to look at the marks.

‘Upstairs?’ I ask him and Dave.

‘This place is huge, he could be anywhere,’ Nick says, his muted tone matching the gloomy interior of the hotel.

‘If he’s in here at all,’ Dave says, his eyes tracking all parts of the room.

Back in the lobby we realise there are  two more corridors leading off  from the ground floor, plus the ballroom that I assume leads into the kitchens and back room areas.

‘Shall we split up?’ Cookey says.

‘No mate, it’s almost dark now, it’ll be pitch black in a minute and we’ll end up shooting each other,’ I reply, ‘we’ll stick together, let’s try upstairs.’

‘The hairs on the back of my neck are standing up,’ Nick mutters.

‘It’s fucking creepy,’ Blowers adds in confirmation.  I feel it too, that something isn’t right but we know we have no choice now.  We can’t risk being out on the street with just axes and limited rounds in the pistols.  The shotguns are good but they take vital seconds to re-load between shots and there’s only six of us this time and no automatic weapons.  Dave takes point and starts leading us up the stairs, his knives already drawn and held one in each hand; the blades reversed and resting against his forearms.  Clarence brings up the rear, his axe held ready.  We’re all tensed and ready, mouths open and heads cocked, listening intently.

Reaching the first floor, Dave pauses and points to the two corridors leading off.  One on each side.  We wait for a few seconds, listening for any noises.

‘We can split into two teams here, check each corridor and meet back in the middle, Dave and Nick you’re with me.  Clarence you take the other side,’ I instruct in a low whisper.  They nod back.  Clarence moves away with Blowers and Cookey behind him.

‘Nick, you stay in the middle, Dave takes point and I’ll bring up the rear,’ Dave nods and sets off, taking each step carefully.  The sun is rapidly going down and the lack of external windows in the corridor makes it very dark already.

‘Nick, have you got a torch in your bag?’ Dave asks his voice very soft.

‘Hang on,’ Nick whispers.

‘Stay there Nick, I’ll do it,’ I step forward and open the top of his bag, carefully pulling the shotgun out and handing it over before I start rooting round. I don’t want to press the trigger by mistake.  My fingers close round a cold metallic object and I pull out a flashlight, small but with a powerful LED light.

‘Keep it off unless we hear something and don’t shine it in my eyes, or your own….or Mr Howie’s,’ Dave instructs quietly.  The corridor has hotel rooms on both sides, staggered all the way down.  The first is on the right.  Dave reaches it and pauses, listening before trying the handle.  The door opens easily enough and he darts in, Nick waits in the doorway and I keep watch in the corridor, my axe grasped tightly in both hands. We go from room to room, Dave checking each one and leaving the door open once finished.  In the last room, Dave enters then emerges almost immediately with a look of alarm on his face.

‘Back to the middle quick,’ he mutters urgently.  We jog back to find Clarence and the other two coming out of their corridor.

‘Did you see them?’ Clarence asks with concern.

‘I did, look down there,’ Dave replies pointing out of the window down to the street.

‘He’s fucking trapped us,’ I say in shock at the sight of zombies shuffling across the road towards the hotel.

‘There’s fucking loads of them,’ Blowers says through gritted teeth.

‘Shit…here they go,’ I murmur needlessly.  We can all see they’ve frozen on the spot with heads turned up to the now darkened sky.  The howling splits the night air and we freeze as the unmistakeable sound is echoed from deep within the hotel. There are several of them by the sounds of it, but the noises from outside and the old fashioned layout of the building make it impossible to pinpoint the exact direction of the sounds.  My heart rate increases and I feel a surge of adrenalin coursing through me; that all too familiar sensation I get before a fight commences.  Staring back outside I see Darren standing in the road roaring into the air, he stops and looks up at us.  Without thinking I draw my pistol and fire through the window, just missing as he ducks down out of sight.  I know what I’ve done as soon as I pull the trigger.

‘Fuck it, I’m so sorry,’ I apologise, knowing the shot will bring them all in our direction.

‘Forget it, I was going for mine too,’ Clarence rumbles.

‘Me too,’ Nick adds.

‘My fault for leading you in here,’ Dave says flatly.

‘You didn’t, I did, and you said he could have gone over the wall or round the other side,’ I reply.  All of us try to make each other feel better.

‘Well, I blame Cookey,’ Blowers says, I can’t help but chuckle quietly.

‘Cookey, this is your fault,’ I say to him.

‘Sorry Mr Howie, it won’t happen again,’ Cookey replies quickly.

‘Yes well I am making a note of it for your yearly appraisal,’ I say in a mock officious tone, ‘well I guess we’d better find somewhere to hold up.’

‘Top floor?, at least we get a nice view then’ Clarence suggests.

‘Why not, top floor it is.’ Dave takes point and we follow him up the spiral staircase.  Going slower now because of the dark.  Bangs and scrapes sound out all over the building and my already strained nerves are straining even more than normal.

Second floor and Dave pauses, staring hard at the entrance to the darkened corridor.  Just before I hear the fast footsteps he’s already away, running to the entrance and stepping to the side just as a naked undead comes flying out of the shadows, his teeth already bared.  Dave steps up behind him and slices through his neck with ease.  The undead goes down noisily, crashing down the stairs and tumbling to the floor below.

‘Stop staring at his arse Cookey,’ Blowers remarks as the almost decapitated corpse tumbles past them.

We follow Dave up the stairs, going faster now.  Clarence at the back. I hear footsteps and a low growl and turn to see an undead running up the stairs at us.  Clarence holds for a second then steps in, sweeping his axe round and driving the undead over the low wall and crashing down into the chandelier on the ground level.  I lean over and catch a glimpse of many figures running across the lobby towards the base of the stairs.  The moonlight shining on their pale skin.

‘Fucking shift it, loads of them coming,’ I say loudly.  Dave increases his pace with us following in his wake.  We reach the third floor landing as an undead comes out of the corridor, Dave doesn’t even break his stride.  Lashing out with one blade to sever through the throat and kicking the zombie back down the corridor.  A dark spray of blood arcs into the air as he falls.

‘I’m not built for running,’ Clarence rumbles behind me, his breathing sounding laboured.

‘Almost there,’ Dave calls back.

At the top I can see the landing is well illuminated from the unobstructed moon shining through the windows.

‘Hold here, Blowers and Cookey you take the left corridor.  Nick and Dave take the right.  Clarence; you and me will take the top of the stairs.’  They shout affirmations back at me.

‘Use the shotguns down the corridor, one fires and one loads,’ Dave calls out, heading over to his corridor entrance with Nick.  I drop my bag on the floor quickly pulling the shotgun and cartridges out while Clarence covers me.  I finish and take over, holding central position and listening to them thundering up the stairs.  Low growls, groans and snarls rise up ahead of them adding to the already terrifying atmosphere.

‘CONTACT,’ Blowers shouts before unloading both barrels down the corridor, the sound is immense and booms out into the quiet building.

The first undead turns the corner of the curved staircase, his rotting face glinting in the pale moonlight.  He snarls and bursts towards me with a fresh surge of energy then loses his head as I swing out and take him clean through the neck.  I shove out with my foot and send his cadaver thumping down the stairs, his body crashing into the undead following in his wake, knocking them flying to both sides like bowling pins.  Clarence joins me and I move over so we have an equal share at the top of the staircase.  Shots indicate they’re attacking in the corridors at the same time as the staircase.  More reach the top and Clarence and I both swing out, striking into them and chopping through their bones like a hot knife through butter.  Our axes almost clash as we swing, the long handles proving to be unwieldy for two men standing so close together.

‘KEEP GOING,’ stepping back I shout at Clarence, he shifts position to stand in the centre, already making use of the increased space and taking wider swings with his axe.  I drop my axe and take up both shotguns. Leaning over the banister I point the shotguns, one in each hand down at the staircase.  Four shots is all I have and I take them quickly, each one booming out in quick succession.

The effect is awesome, the reduced length of the barrel means the pellets spread out quickly and from this range the zombies are cut to pieces.   Firing down onto them also means the pellets strike their heads first, exploding skulls and smashing brains apart.  The bodies fall back down the stairs, straight into the path of the zombies still coming up.  They stagger over their fallen undead while I drop down and break each gun to re-load the four barrels, snapping them back together and leaning over to fire again.

A few get through and are quickly sent packing by Clarence’s almighty swings.  I glance up while reloading and see him take a massive upper cut, driving the blade into the groin and nearly splitting the body in half through to the shoulders, he roars as he pulls the axe back out and swings  again.  Steady shots from both sides of me indicate they are getting multiple contacts from the corridors too

‘There’s too many,’ Blowers shouts loudly.  I stand up, snapping both my guns shut and run towards them, diving down to stretch both hands through the gap between their legs.  I unload the four barrels down the corridor and see the thick oncoming horde being blasted backwards.  I shuffle out and move back to the bags, re-loading the shotguns as fast as my hands will allow.

‘Dave are you clear down there?’ I shout over.

‘We can be do you want it cleared?’ He yells back.

‘The other corridors thick with ‘em, we need to move out.’

‘Got it, hold your fire Nick.’ Glancing up I see Dave drop his shotgun and draw his knives before running into the corridor.  Thumps and bangs mark his progress as he slaughters undead with graceful ease.  Nick stands there holding his shotgun, his mouth hanging open.

‘Nick, support the other side,’ I shout, he snaps to attention and runs over to help Blowers and Cookey.  I lean over the wall just in time to see the stairs are thick with undead and Clarence struggling to hold them from gaining the top.  I unload the barrels into them and watch with satisfaction as many are blown away, but it’s not enough and they are quickly replaced with more growling snarling beasts.

‘DAVE ARE YOU CLEAR?’ I shout.

‘CLEAR,’ he yells back.

‘FALL BACK TO DAVE’S CORRIDOR.’  I shout, after re-loading both shotguns.  Clarence turns and scoops up both our bags then, brandishing the axe with one hand, he takes another mighty sweep through the heads of the front row of zombies, cleaving their skulls open.  I drop back to the corridor and turn to face out.

‘NOW,’ I bellow.  Blowers, Cookey and Nick all turn to run past me.  Clarence roars as he takes another sweep then quickly backs away, going into the corridor.  I aim one shotgun at the staircase and the other at the mouth of the other corridor.  Pausing just long enough for them to come through.  I fire both guns with both barrels and snarl with satisfaction as I see them blown backwards.

‘FALL BACK,’ Dave shouts behind me.  I move into the corridor and run down a few metres.  Clarence is now at the front, giving protection from anything coming up.  Dave fires his shotgun, one barrel in each direction.  Blowers steps in front of him and repeats the action, followed by Nick and Cookey.

‘FIND A CLEAR ROOM,’ Dave yells.  I’ve just re-loaded both my guns and I push the closest door open.  Luckily the door swings straight into the male zombie standing behind it, causing him to stagger back slightly.  I fire one barrel into his face and pull the door closed before moving down the corridor to try the next one.  This time I kick the door open and see two undead inside.  They get the remaining three barrels and the faded floral wallpaper is freshly layered with zombie gore.  The door is pulled closed and I drop down to quickly re-load the shotguns.  Clarence roars and I glance up to see him standing at the end of the corridor, chopping undead down as they surge from another staircase.  Constant shots from the other end tell me they’re still busy too.  With both guns re-loaded I try the next door.  Nothing apparent so I enter the large room.  An old bed frame, side cabinets and a dressing table.   Two doors in the wall.  I kick the first one open and step back, bathroom; all clear.  The second door leads to an adjoining room.  Also clear.  I head back to the corridor and deliver the news at the top of my voice.

‘COVER ME,’ Clarence shouts.  I move in his direction while he backs towards me.  We pass each other and I fire two barrels at the advancing undead while moving backwards.  Dave orders the others to drop back while he covers them.  Blowers, Cookey and Nick move down the corridor and enter the room.  I pause in the doorway watching Clarence run into the adjoining room and lug the old bed frame across to the external door, wedging it tight.  A quick check down the corridor reveals more undead coming towards me.  I fire down at them and remember Chris’s words about how devastating these weapons are at close range.

‘CLEAR,’ Clarence shouts.

‘DAVE FALL BACK,’ I yell out as Nick joins me in the corridor, firing his now re-loaded shotgun into the horde.  Dave drops back quickly and chucks his shotgun into the room before shoving a flashlight into his mouth and drawing his knives.  He runs back up the corridor before I can say anything and commences a thirty second killing spree, the torch light dancing about as he spins, drops and leaps in the darkened corridor.  Blowers and Cookey step out, see Dave and turn to fire their weapons down the corridor.  The light dances down towards us as Dave runs back, removing the flashlight from his mouth as he enters the room.

‘Better now?’ I ask him pointedly.

‘Much better thank you,’ he smiles back at me as Blowers slams the door shut.  We quickly push the old furniture against the door.  Me, Dave and Nick in this room and the other three in the adjoining room.  We all step back at the same time, staring at each other through the connecting door, chests heaving and smiling like idiots.

‘Fuck me, that was intense,’ Blowers mutters.

‘We’re in a hotel, not tents,’ Nick quips back.

‘Very funny captain Blackbeard, what now?’ Blowers asks.

‘Eat, drink and be merry,’ Clarence calls from the other room, ‘for tonight we fight,’ he makes his voice even deeper than normal, sounding like a Hollywood voice over man.  The guns are re-loaded quickly, and we take the opportunity to do as Clarence jokingly suggested.  We drink water and eat food taken from the stores back in the fort and use anti-bacterial wet wipes to clean ourselves down.  Thumps and bangs come from behind both doors but the furniture is wedged in tight and it will take them a while to beat their way through.

‘Nice view,’ Cookey remarks, finding the balcony door and looking down the hill at the sea.

‘Have you seen more naked men?’ Blowers asks.

‘Fuck you Blowers, but shit…take a look at that lot.’ We join him out on the balcony and look down to see the hotel is surrounded by thick crowds of zombies.

‘Stitched up like a kipper,’ I mutter.

‘What?’ Dave asks.

‘It’s a saying,’ I answer him.

‘Oh, do kippers get stitched up then?’

‘I don’t know, do they?’ I ask to shakes of heads and shrugs of shoulders.  Looking down the hill I can see the inky black of the water, but where this would have once been clearly defined by the lights of the mainland, it’s now completely black.  The only lights are the flashing green and red buoys in the sea.  Staring down at the zombies surrounding us, a thought process forms in my mind.

‘They must be locked out,’ the others look at me, ‘this hotel is huge and they could easily fit inside.’

‘Good spot,’ Clarence says, ‘that means we’ve got a finite amount in here with us.’

‘If I’m right,’ I reply quickly.

‘I think you are,’ Dave says, ‘they’re not going anywhere, just waiting,’ he nods down at the ground as he speaks.

‘So Smithy did trap us then,’ Nick says, giving voice to all our thoughts, ‘he put them zombies in the rooms, led us up here, let more in and then shut the doors so we can’t get out.’

‘Clever fucker,’ I murmur, ‘I bet he’s nearby watching.’

‘Or he’s done it to buy time so he can find our group before we do,’ Dave adds.

‘If we’ve got no idea where they went, how will he know?’ Cookey asks.

‘But if he’s got control over the other zombies, couldn’t he tap into what they’ve seen or heard? Maybe some of them saw our group moving about,’ Nick says.

‘Why set the trap for us then, if he knew where they were?  He could have taken this lot and gone straight for them, like he did with us in the fort,’ I say.

‘So he set the trap for us to buy himself time to find them?’ Nick asks.

‘Most likely,’ Dave answers and coming from him we accept the glimmer of hope that Darren hasn’t figured out where they are yet.

‘Options? We fight our way out, but that means taking on that lot in the corridor and then those outside, and any others we find on the streets.  Or we try and sit it out for a few hours.’

‘I think we should wait Mr Howie,’ Dave says firmly, ‘If Darren knew where they were then he wouldn’t have set this trap.  He would have gone for them straight away and not wasted resources by throwing this lot against us.  We could fight our way out easily enough but then we’d be running and fighting all night.’

‘Everyone agreed?’ Nods all round, ‘right, we’ll do that.  Sit and rest until either those doors give or daylight comes…whichever is sooner.

Ten

This feels wonderful.  Completely wonderful.  The world has gone to rat shit and everyone is either turned into a zombie or is hiding away with their heads under the bed sheets.  Not me though.  Not now.  I can walk these streets with impunity.  Nothing can touch me now.  I’ve no doubt that Howie and that cuntrunt Dave could fight their way out of the hotel, but that would leave them stranded on the streets in a strange place with no idea where to go and the area crawling with my charged up lovelies.  No, they’ll stay there, tucked up safe and sound.  Buying me a few hours of darkness to figure out where those fucking piggies went.  Walking along a side street I come out into the town centre, another steep hill but this one full of shops and pubs.  The pier is at the bottom of this street and the whole area is covered with bodies.  Stacks of bodies.  There’s loads of pubs here so I figure that the town must have been packed when it all started.  Seeing the bodies rotting on the street makes me tut, what a waste of perfectly good bodies that I could have used.

The smell of death is different to that of my brothers and sisters.  Sure, they smell rotten and rancid, but not dead.  The difference is clearly distinct.  Still, the stench doesn’t bother me, it’s quite nice really.  The weather is warm, Howie and his cunts are having a stressful time and I’m wandering the streets hunting for his little bumchums.

Thanks to fuckwit Howie giving the game away, I can safely assume he did send them over here.  The speed in which they got over the water tells me they’re worried.  But also that they don’t know where they went either.  Otherwise they wouldn’t be charging around after me and stopping to have a scrap.  So they don’t know where they went and I don’t know where they went, so where did they go?  There must have been quite a few of them so they would need somewhere big enough to hide away.  Why doesn’t Howie know where they are though?  He must have figured we’d get the information if we caught them, or tap into their cerebral knowledge with our amazing zombie powers.  Fuck I wish I had those powers back.  That old boy was connected to me, it must have been because I bit him.  I need to find some more survivors so I can bite them and have them under my control too.

The cellar under the hotel, that’s full of stupid panicking survivors.  But all my babies are busy and it would mean doing it all myself.  Still, it’s only just got dark and I’ve got a few hours to kill, Ha hours to kill! I make myself laugh.  Fucking cunts, hiding away while I’m up here doing all the work, struggling and for what? What I ask you? For nothing.  That’s what.  Fucking wankers, they deserve to die.  Sitting down there eating shit and drinking piss and making that old man come out on his own.  Fucking cowards, I saw them throw him out.  Poor old boy was terrified too.  Yeah, they should suffer.  There’s a big pub here with large plate glass windows.  One of them modern things that doesn’t play music but where everyone sits down pretending to be smart and clever.  Fuckwits, fucking fuckwits.

I wish they were here now so I could rip their faces off with my teeth.  Behind the bar I grab a couple of bottles of spirits and head back down the road, stopping to tear a strip of some already half naked dead woman reveller.  Fucking slut, running around with her tits bouncing about and flashing her thong about.  Yeah not so hot now are you, I spit on her face to show my distaste for her choice of skimpy clothing.  The spittle lands obscenely on her cheek and starts sliding down.  The material won’t tear and I get frustrated, kicking her in her already decomposing stomach.  The skin rips apart and covers my shoes in her filthy stinking innards.

‘Fucking whore,’ I spit down again and wipe my dirty shoes on her face and hair.  The next corpse yields his top easily enough as I yank it from him and set off back down the street towards the seafront.

At the bottom a sign for a shop catches my eye and makes me turn back.  A newsagents  and convenience store, with a sign advertising local guide books.  I scoot over and find it’s already been well looted with crap and debris all over the floor.

‘Messy fuckers,’ I tut again as I work my way to the back where the magazines are displayed.  I see the thick fucking looters didn’t take any reading material with them.

‘That’s the problem with this country, distinct lack of education,’ I mutter to myself as I root through the shitty little pamphlets, ‘I blame the parents myself, aah what’s this, what’s this?’ I pick up a local guide book and start flicking though but it’s too dark for even my super charged wonderfully infected lovely red bloodshot zombie eyes to read.

Outside in the moonlight I flick through the pages as I walk along the promenade and back towards the hotel with the cellar full of my supper.  The stupid fucking book is full of wanky adverts, telling me where to eat and what shop to get my clothes from, telling me I can get two meals for the price of one on Tuesdays between 2pm and 2.05pm.  Fucking cunts, that’s what ruined this world.  Stupid fucking adverts written by stupid fuckwits, and education of course.  No wonder we had to take over.  Saving the world is what we’re doing really.  Fuck, it would be ruined if left to these stupid cheese eaters, blowing each other up and boring everyone to death.  Look at it now, it’s Saturday night on a mid-summer evening and I’m in a holiday town filled with pubs and not a fight in sight.  Much better.  Mrs Miggins could safely walk her dog through here, well if she was a zombie walking a zombie dog she could anyway.

Can dogs get infected? Fuck it; I’ll try it when I find one.  I hate dogs, nasty fucking things with big teeth showing off because they can piss up things and shit where they want.

Reaching the railing I tuck the tour guide into my waistband and stare down at the cellar door before easing the gate open and sneaking down the stairs.  I empty both bottles of spirits onto the ground and slink back up a few steps, stopping to soak the material in the liquid.  At the top, I move round so I’m closer to the main door and light the material with the lighter I sourced earlier.  It flames instantly so I drop it over the railings and watch as the flammable liquid ignites. Chuckling to myself I run up the stairs and back through the hotel door, working my way back through the corridor towards the other cellar door.

It’s pitch black in here but that suits me perfectly.  I find the door and wait for a few seconds until I hear the low murmurs, then the raised voices and finally the panicked screams and shouts as they realise one of their exits is on fire.  The place must be full of smoke already because I can hear loads of coughing coming from down there.  They’re arguing and trying to figure out what they should do, someone shouts to get out; someone else shouts it could be a trap, the first one shouts it doesn’t matter if they all get burnt to death.  That seems to do the trick and the next noise is people thundering up the stairs towards the door I’m standing behind.

The door swings open and the first one staggers out coughing hard, smoke is pouring out of the cellar which is wonderful as it will mask my presence and make it more confusing.  I slip out from behind the door and my eyes pick up the silhouette of a figure bent over and coughing hard.  I slip in behind them and ease them away.

‘Come on quick,’ I say with pretend concern.  The figure, a woman by the feel of the fleshy mounds hanging down from inside her top, responds easily enough and lets me lead her away a few metres.  I clamp my hand over her mouth nice and hard and take a chunk out of the back of her neck, tearing the flesh apart and sucking on the blood.  She squirms and tries to fight but it only takes seconds before she slumps down to the ground.

I go back towards the door and find someone else staggering about blindly and coughing, the trick works again and I lead this one a few meters until he trips over the body on the floor and falls down.  I land on top of him, scrabbling to cover his mouth while I gnash my teeth into his stomach.  I bite down and savage through the flesh, he screams loudly and I hear more people running my way.  I jump and shout, ‘quick, he’s fallen over,’ they come running in and everything erupts into sweet bedlam with me tearing at their flesh and dragging them down onto the floor.  The smoke, their eyes stinging and watering and the almost pitch black of the corridor makes it impossible for them to see and I take full advantage of it.

It’s over in minutes, a few escaped but I bit a couple of those that ran off so I know they’ll turn soon.  Leaving my bodies in the corridor I descend the stairs into the cellar and find it’s a disused bar, like a speakeasy from the movies.  Wooden bar, wooden tables and wooden chairs and even old beer mats on the bar top.  Signs of the survivors are everywhere with stacks of tinned food, bottles of water and buckets overflowing with shit and piss.  Dirty fuckers, how can they live like this?  I’ve done them a favour really; bringing them over to my side.  Better than living in this filth.

The fire has taken hold over by the door and the whole place is filled with thick smoke.  Good job I’m not living otherwise this would kill me, but even in my dead state I find it choking.

A whimper makes me turn and head behind the bar to find a body tucked up in the foetal position.  Must have crawled in here to die, rather than face the terror outside.  The body whimpers again, long curly black hair covering a face and the gentle curves of a womanly form.  I gently push the hair away and see a beautiful face, soft red lips and dark eyes framed by arching black eyebrows.  Stunning woman, beautiful really and I gaze down at her for a few minutes until I realise the smoke and flames will over-power even me if I’m not careful.  She’s alive, barely and I’m captivated by her exquisite beauty.  I can’t leave her here to die, no way.  She’s coming with me.  I scoop her up in my arms,  carry her out from behind the bar and up the stairs back into the darkened corridor.  My new converts are waking up, groaning and mumbling away like the hungry little blighters they are.

Carrying the woman I go back through the corridors and out the front door.  The escaping survivors came this way too, I can smell them.  Once outside I can see thick smoke billowing up from the cellar.  I carry the woman to the wide pavement and gently lay her down on the ground.  She makes small noises in her throat as I smooth her hair back and stroke her gorgeous face.  She’s dressed in a filthy white blouse and black skirt; she must have been waitressing in the hotel when it happened.

My undead heart hammers in my infected chest at the sight of her and the thought that I can bite this wonderful creature and take her blood.  The newly undead circle around me, clearly sensing she’s still human but I growl up at them, marking my territory and they cower back.  I can feel a connection with them which confirms what happened with the old boy.  It seems I can keep what I bite, and biting this woman fills me with a sensual excitement.  Surely nothing can be more intimate than sharing my blood with her so she can turn and join me.

I lean down and hover over her skin, the smell of stale body odour, piss and shit is like perfume to me and I hold off biting her, drawing the torture out like I did with the old man, but this is way more torturous and exciting.  My lips brush the side of her neck, then her cheek and her ear.  I move down to her bare arms and feel the rush inside me.  I don’t want to mark her, she’s too beautiful.

With loving care I roll her onto her front and unzip the back of her skirt, the action just excites me even more and it gets worse when I tug her skirt down to reveal her perfect tanned bottom.  Oh the smell of shit is strong here, so strong and the sight of her firm cheeks makes my mouth drool until strands of saliva are spooling down to glide down her skin and soak into her panties.  My tongue darts out to lick her skin, it’s too much and I can’t hold back anymore.  She comes to as I bite down, not too hard but enough to break the skin and feel her beautiful blood flow into my mouth.  Her back arches and her hands claw at the pavement.  I know it hurts my beauty but it’ll be over soon I promise.  I bite down harder, unable to contain myself.  The urge to burrow my head into her soft arse cheeks is so powerful, I want to eat her all up and have her inside me all the time.  But I force myself to pull back, my head spins from the satisfaction and I lie on my back staring at the stars in an almost post coital ecstasy.

Raising my head I look over at the massive flames now licking up from the basement, the cellar must be completely alight now.

‘Oops,’ I giggle quietly, ‘sorry about your hotel.’  I look over and realise my beauty is still lying there showing her arse off to the world and my hungry babies are edging closer.

‘Fuck off you dirty cunts,’ I snarl at them, ‘dirty nasty fucking cunts,’ I’m on my feet beating them about the head.  They cower back, groaning softly as they’re beaten by their master.  Yeah, I’m their master now.  Fuck you Howie; you’re not the only one with groupies.  I drop down so I’m almost squatting on the backs of her thighs, staring down at her lovely arse and the rapidly congealing wound.

Small rivers of blood run sexily down her skin and I can’t help but drop down and lick at them, letting the metallic taste soak into my tongue.  Pulling my head down I gently run my fingers over the unbitten arse cheek, feeling the soft warmth and by degrees I increase the pressure until I’m kneading the flesh, taking a big handful and squeezing until she whimpers again.

She suddenly comes to, flipping over onto her back and crabbing backwards.  Her eyes are wide and fearful, she glances up at the zombies standing nearby and lets out a scream.

‘Oh my god!’ she covers her mouth with her hand, glancing quickly between the zombies and me.  She scuttles backwards until she’s a few metres away, wincing as her wounded arse cheek touches the ground.  She reaches down to feel and her hand comes away covered in blood.  She keeps staring at the zombies and her breathing is hard and fast like she’s hyperventilating.

‘Did you know them?’ I ask softly.  She doesn’t answer,  just stares at me, tears streaming down her face.

‘It won’t take long,’ I whisper to her.  She looks terrified, truly terrified and I almost feel sorry for putting her through this, but know she’ll feel better in a few minutes.

‘Am I….Am I…?’ She stammers between breaths.

‘Yes, you’re bitten.  It won’t take long.  Just try and relax.’  She sobs hard, pitiful cries coming from her very soul.  She scrabbles to her feet, holding the falling skirt up.

‘No…No…Please…’ She starts to back away.

‘It’s too late,’ I follow after her as she tries to run, limping and wincing with pain from her bitten bum

‘Please…No….,’ she tries to run faster but the infection is taking hold and she falls down onto the ground.  I run to her side and try to cradle her in my arms.  She fights back, screaming and beating at me with her fists.

‘No…please…no…’ Her thrashing becomes feebler with every passing second until she gives up and lies still in my arms.  Her eyes dart about as her breathing becomes more laboured.

‘It’s okay, it’ll be okay…just go with it,’ I stroke her hair and speak softly, her dark eyes look up at me.

‘Does it hurt?’ She whispers as she grips my arm.

‘No, it doesn’t hurt.  It feels wonderful, amazing.  It’s the best feeling ever.’  She starting to slip now, fighting to stay awake and I can see she’s desperately clinging onto life and truly terrified of going under.

‘Just relax, don’t fight it.  It’ll be over in seconds.’  She stares back me, clearly delirious but her words strike a chord in my heart.

‘Promise?’

‘I promise.’

‘Stay with me…’ her voice is barely a whisper.  I remember how utterly terrified I was when they pulled me down in London.  The thought of dying alone was unbearable and I too gripped at the zombie bodies and pulled them close, desperate for any action of embrace or words of comfort to ease my passing.

With a final spasm she passes away.  Her dying breath eases out of her lips and she goes limp.  I stroke her head as the flames grow ever bigger behind me, illuminating her in a soft orange glow.  Minutes pass and I caress her soft face, so beautiful in death.  Then it comes; she jerks slightly and goes still.  Jerks again and a spasm runs through her body like an electric current.  She opens her eyes and stares straight up at me as I carry on stroking her face.  Her eyes are red and bloodshot and the effect just makes her look even more sultry and stunning.

‘I promised it wouldn’t hurt didn’t I?’ Stroking her soft face I look down at the newest member of my horde.  Her eyes fix on mine, her head not lolling and her body no longer twitching with spasmodic jerks.

‘Yes you did,’ she replies.

Eleven

They break though after a few hours, finally forcing the door open and using sheer body weight to push the barrier towards us.

‘They’ve given up on this one,’ Clarence calls, running into our room.

‘They’re all pushing on this side,’ I reply handing Clarence his shotgun.

‘Keep it; I’ll stick with the axe.’

‘Fair enough big man.’  Walking forward I lean over the barrier and shove the shotgun into the rapidly growing gap where the door is being pushed open.  A zombie lunges in and tries biting the end of one of the guns.  Four shots later and there’s a slight pause as the zombies not blown to bits lurch forward for another attack.

‘I fucking love these guns,’ I shout as Blowers runs in and takes a shot, followed by Cookey then Nick.

‘Save the rounds, there can’t be that many left,’ Dave says and I suspect he’s getting jealous at us racking the kills up with the sawn off weapons.

‘We’ve got loads of cartridges left,’ I smile at him.

‘Yeah but we don’t know what we’re going to meet or have to deal with and we might need them.’

‘Yeah but there’s loads of farms we can break into, and I bet a rural place like this has loads of gunsmiths.’

‘Yeah but we don’t know if anyone has already been and taken them.’

‘Yeah but it’s fun….I like sawn off shotguns,’ he realises I’m pissing about and chooses to ignore me, focussing on the barrier slowly giving way and the increasing groans coming from the undead forcing their way in.

The barrier finally collapses.  The first couple of undead trip over the furniture and land heavily but the rest surge through.  Dave leaps into the fray before the rest of us have a chance to react.  Knives drawn he sets about them with his amazing agility.  Clarence moves forward and stands nearby with his axe, but every time he goes to swipe at one, Dave nips in and takes it down.  The rest of us stand and watch, mesmerised by Dave.  He holds a central position, letting them come to him but the way he flexes, stretches, drops down and pivots is extraordinary.  I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve seen this but it never ceases to amaze me and I don’t think it ever will.  A noise to my side, Nick lighting a cigarette, he shrugs at me and I shrug back.  Watching them it’s almost comical.  The huge figure of Clarence wielding a double bladed axe and constantly trying to dart forward and the much smaller figure of Dave, slaughtering them with pathetic ease.  Dave feints to the side and one slips past him only to be sliced in half by Clarence taking his frustration out with a powerful swing.

The bodies stack up on the floor, creating another barrier to the rest outside.  Dave steps back for a rest while we watch the undead try to climb the bloody corpses and slip back down into the corridor.

‘You missed one,’ Clarence states, very matter of fact.

‘I let him through for you.’

‘You missed him.’

‘I knew you were there so I let him through.’

‘I don’t need your charity,’ Clarence growls.

‘You were getting frustrated so I let you have one.’

‘You let me have one?’ Clarence steps closer to Dave, staring down at the little man.

‘Anger is an enemy and frustration causes mistakes,’ Dave replies, unflinching beneath the big man’s intense gaze.

‘What…did you say?’ Clarence goes bright red and I see his already huge arm muscles bulge as he tenses up.

‘Calm down, there’s plenty left,’ Dave’s tone strikes a chord and Clarence throws the axe down on the floor.  Fuck me, the biggest man I’ve ever seen is about to have a fight with the most dangerous man I’ve ever seen.  Nick and the other two keep glancing at me in alarm.

‘Lads…take it easy,’ I adopt a friendly tone.  They completely ignore me and stand with eyes locked.  There can’t be many men that can stare Clarence down but Dave tries, maybe not even realising what he’s doing.

Clarence turns with incredible speed and pulls the barrier out of the way then kicks at the stacked up corpses, sending them flying into the undead behind them.  He roars and leaps over them and straight into the zombies, his fists flying out and battering them with savage brutality.  Dave turns and watches, his face completely devoid of expression.  Clarence rages, roaring with anger as he lashes out.  Punching with a staggering ferocity, he lashes backwards with his elbow, breaking the neck of an undead about to lunge at him from behind.  He bends down and scoops up a body then starts using it like a battering ram, swatting the other zombies with the corpse.  His strong legs strike down as he stamps on heads, crushing skulls.  Seconds later it’s over, Clarence scans the corridor and seemingly satisfied he drops the body and steps back into the room.

‘Fuck me, we might as well go home,’ Cookey mutters quietly.

‘You alright mate?’ I drop back and speak quietly to Clarence, hopefully out of ear shot of Dave at the front taking point as we make our way back down the stairs, carefully stepping over the bodies of the zombies we killed earlier.

‘Fine,’ one word answer and I sense the brooding mood he’s in.

‘Dave takes some getting used to, but he’s a good bloke.’

‘Okay.’ The tone is softer, relenting a little and I leave it at that, any more from me would risk being patronising to this highly trained soldier.

The shotgun is now back in my bag, reluctantly put away so I can use the quieter axe if we find opposition.  We make our way back down to the lobby and crouch down in the shadows watching the silhouetted figures of the zombies outside.

‘Rest here, the sun will be up soon and we can move out,’ I whisper quietly to Blowers, he repeats the instruction down the line until I see Dave nod back at me, then crouch down to rest his back against the wall.

Twelve

‘You can speak?’

‘Yes!’ She looks up at me as I cradle her in my arms, and the only sign of the infection is the red eyes.  My zombie mind whirls and spins and I almost drop her in surprise.

‘You were right, it feels fantastic,’ she purrs and snuggles her body closer to me, ‘the pain has gone and I feel all warm inside. Warm and tingly.’ She lets out a low moan and I can’t help but stare at her.

‘Although, if I am honest I do feel a little hungry, very hungry in fact,’ her voice is soft and velvety, deep and sensual.

‘Are you okay?’ She smiles up at me with straight white teeth her pink tongue darting out to moisten her full red lips.

‘How can you speak?’ I ask and my tone is hard.

‘Can’t you all speak?’ She purrs.

‘You know they can’t speak…I’m the only one.’

‘You can’t be the only one…’ She teases, tilting her face down and looking up at me through dark eyelashes.

‘I thought I was.  But now there’s you,’ her eyes lock on mine and I lose myself in their beauty, feeling her warm dead body pressing close to mine. The hotel fire rages behind us. The light of the flames dancing across the road surface and glinting off the smashed up cars.  Fragments of broken car window scatter the ground; catching the light, dazzling and intoxicating.  My lovelies gather round us, me and this beautiful zombie woman speaking so softly to me.  My mind races as I try to think of how this has happened, how she can speak, why she is different like me. So many questions, so many things to think about but for now I can’t take my eyes off her.

A chemistry ignites sparks between us, my zombie heart pounds as she grips my shoulders to lift herself up closer to my face.  I lean down until we’re just inches apart, eyes locked.  I want to kiss her, I want to bite her and taste her blood again.  She feels the same, her lips pull back and make ready for the bite but then press together readying for the kiss.  We pucker and snarl as the conflicting urges surge through us…bite….kiss…tear…caress.  Our lips gently brush, so soft.  Her grip intensifies on my shoulders as she bares her teeth and growls at me.  I show mine and snarl back at her, our lips constantly touch and break apart.  My mouth brushes her warm cheek, her grip softens and I move down to gently brush against her neck.  She stretches sensually as I nuzzle at her skin.  Sensations sweep through me and I push my head down, she stretches harder as my teeth push down on the taught flesh.  She groans and pulls me in, longing for me to bite her.  She nestles round and pushes her mouth against my neck, gently kissing, electric tingles run up and down my spine.  Her kissing gets firmer, harder.  Teeth against my skin, a low groan escapes my throat as the pressure gets stronger.  Her tongue flicks out, licking me.  My head swims as she bites again, her teeth pushing in.  My hand goes to the back of her head, pulling her closer.  She responds and bites harder as I push her head against me, my fingers entwine in her soft hair.  Her arms, wrapped  around my shoulders tighten,  and she bites down.  I feel my skin tear as she pierces the flesh and her tongue licks at my infected blood.  She groans louder and sucks my neck, drawing more blood into her mouth.  The pain is ecstasy, pure ecstasy and like nothing I have ever felt before.

My hands drop down to lift her bodily onto my lap, she straddles me.  Her thighs wrap around my stomach as she licks and sucks hungrily at my neck.  I drop my hand down and feel the firmness of her arse cheeks and her skirt rides up.  Kneading and caressing, my hand touches the wound and she flinches.

‘Sorry,’ I whisper into her ear.

‘Touch it,’ she groans back at me.  My hand moves round, slowly sweeping the curve of her rounded butt.  Fingers brush against bare skin, probing, touching, feeling for the wound.  She groans and licks at my neck.  The tips of my fingers brush the wound, she pushes into me with whimpers of pleasure.

‘Touch it,’ she says again.  My fingers gently stroke the torn flesh going back and forth and she presses her body against mine.

‘Again,’ she pleads.  My fingers brush over the ragged wound, applying more pressure.  Her body tenses and she moans.

‘Harder,’ she begs, I respond and rub with force.  She pushes into me, her body pulsating, thrusting, rocking.

‘Harder,’ she commands.  My hand grips and squeezes at the laceration.  Her mouth locks onto my neck, sucking and licking.  Her hot tongue probes my bitten flesh, easing the blood out.  I feel the liquid drip down my neck, sending more shivers though me.

The ecstasy builds as we thrust our bodies into each other.  My hand roughly explores the moist, sticky hole in her arse.  She pulls the collar of my shirt away from my neck, exposing my shoulder.  She grips me with all her strength and buries her mouth onto my flesh, biting down, tearing at it.  My body is on fire as the pressure builds.  I move my free hand round to rub at her while I lift the first bloodied hand to my mouth, licking at the blood.  She pulls away from my shoulder, hungrily sucks on my fingers, tasting her own blood. Eyes lock.  Chests heave as we pant, push eager fingers into open wounds, taste blood.  There is only now, this moment.  Our minds are as mingled and entwined as our blood.  The pressure releases, our bodies are taut, straining with orgasm.  Shuddering, shaking and groaning with pure pleasure.

I have no idea how long we are locked together.  Seconds that seem like eternity.  We lie on the road, side by side, bodies entwined.  Watching the hotel burn.

‘It’s beautiful,’ she says softly.

‘What is?’

‘The fire, the power of it; it’s beautiful.’

‘It is.’

‘Can it hurt us?’  Rolling onto her side, she faces me as she asks the question.

‘Yes, anything can hurt us just the same as before.  But we don’t feel pain like we used to. Our injuries heal a lot faster, our blood clots quicker and it takes more to kill us.’

‘What does kill us?’

‘They’ll go for the head mainly, or a massive attack to the body.  Like chopping legs off or splitting the stomach open.’

‘Who? Who’s they?’

‘Survivors… Howie and his lot,’ I spit the words out with venom.

‘Howie?’

‘He’s a fucking wanker, him and his cuntrunt mate Dave.’

‘Who are they?’ She asks me.  We lie together as I recount the journey, the story, the history of what happened, who they all are and why I’m here.  My tale of woe takes a time to tell but she listens intently.  Squeezing my hand at the sad times, like when Howie abused me so badly on the bridge and laughing at the good times, like when I killed Jamie and the old couple in the shop.  It feels good to talk and I realise how much I’ve missed being able to communicate like this.  This makes me think again about why she’s different.

‘I don’t know,’ she answers when I put the question to her, ‘I woke up to find you groping my arse you dirty man,’ she laughs, ‘ I remember the fear I felt at being bitten, and recognising them too,’ she motions to the other zombies still gathered round us.  ‘I remember going under and being terrified but then I was back and it felt different, completely different.  Is that how it was for you?’

‘Exactly the same.  They pinned me down and I was shitting myself but then I came back.  But it was different.  There were thousands and thousands of them and I controlled all of them.  I could feel their connection in my mind and make them do what I wanted.  As we came down from London to the fort I could sense more of them joining us.  Oh you should have seen it.  Our brothers and sisters as far as the eye could see.’

‘And you controlled all of them?’

‘Every single one, but I was the only one that could speak or think like this, or so I thought.’

‘You’re special, unique, powerful,’ she purrs the words, caressing my arm.

‘And now you’re here,’ I turn to face her, ‘and I wonder what for?’

‘I don’t know…to help you.  To help you stop that Howie and his nasty friends.’

‘Is that why?’ My gaze locks on her face.

‘Why else?’

‘Maybe you want to be in charge, maybe I’ve failed and now you’ve been selected to take over,’ my voice grows harder as I speak.  ‘Yeah, I’ve failed and I’m not needed, yeah Smithy just fuck off and let someone else have a go eh? Going to take over are you? Come here to kill me have you?’ I’m on my feet, raging and shouting at her.  She looks alarmed and stands up, staring at me with her beautiful eyes.

‘Yeah, trying to seduce me with your….your…your arse! Thrusting your tits at me and making me have zombie sex with you.’

‘We didn’t have sex…’

‘Well, whatever we did, it felt like sex.’

‘It was amazing, you were amazing…’

‘That’s not the point, don’t try and woo me over with your womanly charms.  Oh no, coming here to take me over and make me a slave like one of them,’ I point to the nearest zombie which  drools away as it stares between the woman and I.

‘I don’t even know your name!’ I shout.

‘It’s Marcy,’ she laughs, ‘my name is Marcy.  What’s yours? Smithy did you say?’

‘Darren, its Darren Smith.  Everyone always called me Smithy.’

‘Then I shall call you Darren.’

‘Stop putting me off when I’m ranting.’

‘Darren my love, it’s clear why I’m here,’ she walks towards me, stares up through those dark red eyes, ‘my purpose is clear my love, I’m here for you, to help you…’  I start to protest but she moves in and puts her hand gently to my mouth.

‘Why else would you have saved me from the fire, why else would you have bitten me the way you did.  You avoided my face and took me in the bum.’ I blanch at the expression she uses, she smiles back.

‘Sorry, I meant bit me in the bum….you bit my bum, bit it hard and took my blood,’ she whispers and I feel the erotic sensation building up again.  We stand close, breathing hard and she licks the scabbed blood on my neck.

‘Can we have sex?’ She asks me softly.

‘Now?’ I reply, shocked.

‘No, I mean can we? Can zombies have sex?’ she laughs and the sound is music to my ears.  Like the strangulated death gurgle of a human.

‘I don’t know.’ My heart is hammering again.

‘Does it work?’ she presses in closer, her hand dropping down to my groin, ‘oh it works, it works very well.’  She pushes and rubs, building the tension.

‘Shit,’ I exclaim.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘The sun’s coming up; we’ve been here for hours.  We need to move.’  She pulls back, staring at the sky.

‘Follow me, I know where we can hide,’ she starts to pull me away.

‘Hide? I’m not hiding from any fucker.  I’m going after his little piggies,’ I argue back.

‘Darren, they’ll be out soon and they’ll come looking for you.  That will tell them you were here,’ she nods to the blazing building across the road, ‘we need to rest, get more bodies and plan smartly.’  I bridle at the implication, she senses it.

‘Darren my sweet, you’ve done so well.  You’re so powerful and strong but I believe I was put here to help you.  We can plan together.  Howie and his friends think you’re going straight after the others and will follow you.  They don’t realise that you don’t know where to find them either.’

‘So let’s get there first so we can fuck them over.’

‘Darren, trust me, please,’ she looks into my eyes, and my undead heart melts.  I want Howie’s piggies to die and suffer.  I want that cunt sister of his to suffer the death of a thousand bites but maybe she’s right.  So far I’ve been predictable, other than trapping them in the hotel that is. The stupid fucktards,  getting trapped by a zombie.  Fuck you Howie, I’m not just a zombie, I’m a super zombie.

Dragging my eyes from Marcy’s I gaze across the road at the blackened remnants of the burned out hotel then back at the beautiful zombie woman I rescued from it.  I don’t resist as she takes my hand and starts to pull me down the street.

The latest recruits to our undead army trail loyally in our wake.

DAY NINE

One

Day Nine

Saturday

‘Scarlett Johansson. Definitely Scarlet Johansson,’ Blowers states firmly.

‘She’s nice but she’s got a weird nose,’ Cookey replies.

‘Weird nose my arse, she’s gorgeous.’

‘Nah, I’m sticking with Angelina Jolie,’ Cookey sighs.

‘Only ‘cos she gets her tits out on every bloody film she does,’ Blowers says.

‘And that’s a bad thing how?’ Cookey asks.

‘Kiera Knightley,’ Nick adds.

‘Too skinny and she does the same thing in every film,’ Blowers replies.

‘She’s a fittie,’ Nick says.

‘Nope, I’m sticking with Scarlet thank you very much.’

‘How about you Mr Howie?’

‘Me?’ I reply, ‘well I don’t really fancy people off the telly but if I had to then it would be Monica Bellucci.’

‘Who’s that?’ Nick asks.

‘She’s from The Matrix,’ Blowers replies.

‘Which one?’ Asks Nick, leaning forward to look down the line at Blowers.

‘She was the one in the toilet, telling Neo he had to kiss her like he kissed the other bird,’ Blowers explains.

‘Oh that one, yeah she was fit,’ Nick nods in agreement, ‘she gets her boobs out quite a bit too though,’ he adds, ‘she’s been in loads of things.’

‘Yeah and she’s getting on a bit now too,’ Cookey joins in.

‘Still gorgeous though,’ I add quietly.

‘I wonder what they’re all doing now,’ Nick says.

‘They’re all in a secure compound with all the other fit women, being kept safe for the future of mankind,’ Cookey says to sniggers from the rest of us, ‘yep, they need young virile lads like us to help repopulate the planet.’ More sniggers.

‘Fuck the Isle of Wight then, let’s go there,’ Nick says wistfully.

‘Oh can you imagine it…’ Blowers groans.

‘You can’t go Blowers,’ Cookey says.

‘Why not…oh don’t start,’ Blowers groans louder this time to more sniggers from Nick and Cookey, even Clarence smiles.

‘You’re going to an all-male compound across the road,’ Cookey smirks.

‘What’s that smell?’ I lift my head as a different odour penetrates the smug fetid stench of stale sweat, decaying bodies and farts.

‘It’s Blowers getting excited Sir,’ Cookey says quickly.

‘Burning,’ Dave says. It’s the first time he’s spoken since we came down and rested against the wall of the old decrepit hotel lobby, waiting for the sun to come up so we can safely beat through the hordes of undead stacked up outside.

‘I can smell it too,’ Nick cranes his head forward sniffing at the air.

‘Is it this place?’ Blowers asks, ‘I wouldn’t put it past Smithy to set us on fire.’

‘No, it’s coming from somewhere else,’ Clarence rumbles in his deep voice.

‘Reminds me of barbeque smoke, I’m bloody starving,’ Nick inhales deeply, savouring the aroma.

‘Sun’s almost up, we should get ready,’ I climb to my feet and move stiffly over to the glass doors, peering over the heads of the deathly horde and down the hill to the now blue waters of the sea. ‘Ah, another beautiful day in paradise,’ I stretch and yawn at the same time, leaning against the wall as I get a sudden head rush.

‘I could murder a coffee,’ Clarence rumbles as he too gains his feet and stretches.  I look over at the huge man and notice how he nods to Dave as he steps past him.  A sign that the disagreement they had upstairs is done and finished.  Dave has the sense to nod back and once again I wonder at how sometimes he can understand a subtle yet complicated social interaction but other times he misses glaringly obvious ones.  Shrugging I turn back and watch as the sun’s gorgeous ray’s start sweeping across the pavement and each zombie instantly slows to become a shambling mess as it gets caught in the pure light of day.

‘Do you think UV light would do the same to them?’ I ask out-loud.

‘We should try it,’ Dave replies, ‘they’ve shown they can switch between slow and fast during the day but it might work.’

‘Good thinking boss,’ Clarence says stepping forward to join me as I look out through the filthy glass panes of the front door.  Boss? Did he just call me boss? ‘If it works we could rig some up on the outside of the fort when we get back.’

‘Ha, a shit load of sunbeds all hanging down from the walls, that would be cool,’ Cookey laughs then looks sheepish as everyone else stays silent, ‘fuck it, I thought it was funny.’

‘It wasn’t,’ Blowers says.

‘Fuck you,’ Cookey pulls his bag on his back, adjusting the straps and bouncing up and down a few times to make sure everything is secure.  He reaches one hand back to make sure he can grasp the stock of the shotgun.  We all do the same, readying ourselves and helping each other to tighten straps, working quietly, we all know the importance of being ready to move quickly and not risk our kit dropping out.  Gathering at the front door with our axes in hand, apart from Dave who still sticks with his double knives, we stand quietly waiting for something to happen.

‘Er, this door is locked,’ I say finally, remembering we came in through a back entrance.  We all smirk sheepishly as we turn away from the door and start threading our way through the hotel ground floor.  Reaching an old ballroom we find one of the double fire doors closed from the inside with a locking metal bar.  Blowers gets there first and starts pushing down on it, but the bar is rusted badly and sticks in place.

‘Let me try,’ Cookey barges past and starts hitting down on the bar, desperate to outdo Blowers.

‘Ha, yeah go on then hero,’ Blowers laughs at Cookey struggling.  Clarence gives him a few more seconds then coughs politely.  Cookey glances round then steps back and flourishes a hand at the door.

‘Watch this,’ Blowers says as Clarence goes to push the bar down with one hand.  Still it refuses to budge so he applies more pressure.  Propping his axe against the wall he uses both of his enormous hands to ram down on the bar but still it holds.  Clarence grunts with effort then suddenly stops, takes a small step back and breathes in deeply.  His shoulders relax and I watch as he raises both his hands a few inches from the bar then seems to explode with a sudden ferocity sending both doors flying off the hinges to land a few feet away in the bushes outside.

‘Fuck me…’ Nick says in awe.

‘Door’s open,’ Clarence rumbles bending down to lift his axe.

‘Good work Clarence,’ Dave says.

‘Thanks Dave,’ Clarence replies.  Blowers and I exchange a glance at the polite tones they use to each other, both of them clearly making an effort to show respect.  I raise one eyebrow and a give a little shrug before stepping out the door.

We file out and work our way through the jungle of overgrown bushes to the gravel car park.  The massed horde gathered on the road at the front of the hotel start to turn slowly and shuffle in our direction.

‘Righto, let’s have an early scrap and go for breakfast,’ I say light-heartedly.

‘Or we could just skirt round them and go for breakfast now,’ Nick says rubbing his stomach.

‘Fuck me, look at that smoke,’ we turn to stare at Blowers needlessly pointing down the hill at the thick plumes of smoke wafting up into the still morning air.  Whatever it is on fire is hidden from view by the densely packed buildings.

‘We’ve been here for one day and already things are on fire,’ I remark shaking my head sadly.

‘That’s got to be Darren…’ Blowers says quietly. Our small group pauses for a heartbeat as we all realise the implications of what Blowers just said.  As one we start jogging out of the car park, all joking forgotten as the serious business of why we’re here takes residence in our minds once more.

The front of the horde have already reached the edge of the car park but we keep to the far side and skirt round them quickly.  Avoiding combat now for the sake of making distance and getting down the hill.  Glancing over I blanche at how many undead have gathered here during the night, the road in front of the hotel is thick with them.  There must be hundreds all starting to shuffle towards us, slack jaws, red bloodshot eyes and decaying grey skin almost hanging off their bones.  They look withered and less human than ever before.  The tattered clothing that still clings to some of them is filthy and the blood stains have dried out to a sickening brown colour.  Flies and insects buzz in and around the hundreds of raw and open wounds.  The danger of disease from their dead flesh must almost be as bad as the infection inside them.

The stiffness in my legs abates as I warm up and start jogging down the hill, all of us have the sense to take it steady instead of running hell for leather.  The lessons we’ve learnt over the last god knows how many days are what’s kept us alive where many others have fallen.  The muscles in my legs feel stronger, leaner and my breathing has improved with the sheer amount of exercise I’ve had to do since all this started.  Not a day has passed without some kind of frantic run, fight, battle or chase.  Blowers, Cookey and Nick also look leaner and fitter.  And despite the constant pissing about they’ve hardened and carry the look of capable men.  I glance over at Dave running by my side, his face looks the same, the only difference is his deep tan from so many days outside in the summer sun.

Right now, at this point, I wouldn’t swap or trade these men for anything in the world.  There are no finer people to be with and my only regret is that we lost many such good men outside the fort.

The hill gets steeper as we descend passing old faded and battered looking Victorian town houses now converted into shitty flats with dirty windows.  High gloss paint peeling from the doors and frames.  The smell of burning increases and slowly we start to see the back of a huge building coming into view, smoke billowing out from the windows and roof.  At the bottom of the hill we turn right to see the front of a grand old Victorian hotel blazing away.   Huge flames roaring as they eat into the building.  Several bodies lay scattered about on the pavement, already smoking from the heat of the fire.

‘Wait here,’ ditching my axe I run forward with my arm held up against the fierce heat.  Reaching the first body I kick it over, but the flesh is scorched and smouldering rendering the face unrecognisable.  I crouch down and crab over to the next one, rolling it over and staring down at the face, I don’t recognise it so I check the next few and find them in the same state.

‘Not ours,’ I yell out as I reach the group, wiping the stinging sweat from my eyes.  The relief is as clear on their faces as it must be on mine.

‘They’ve got fresh bite marks on ‘em, the blood is fresh too.’

‘Last night then, while we were kept busy up the road,’ Clarence says.  I nod up at him.

‘If he got our group he would have left a message,’ Dave adds in his flat but firm voice, ‘he’d want us to know we’d lost.’

‘This whole row will go,’ Nick points along the building line, at all the big old houses and store fronts joined up along the Esplanade.

‘And behind too, I fucking hope there’s no survivors in them,’ Cookey mutters.

‘There’s nothing we can do, we should clear out before it attracts too much attention,’ I pick my axe up and cough from the cloying stench of burning chemicals in the air.  Looking back up the hill I see the thick horde slowly trailing down the hill after us.  With a bit of luck they will stop and stare in wonder at the bright dancing flames.

‘Which way?’ Cookey steps out into the road, looking left and right.

‘Up there,’ Dave says quickly.  He steps forward peering towards the right hand side, his eyes squinting as he examines something in the far distance.  ‘There’s one moving away from us, going slowly,’ he explains, ‘he must be following Darren.’  Enough said,  we start jogging again.  Taking a wide arc past the front of the burning building and crossing over to the far side of the tree lined pavement I stare back at the raging inferno and think of how much destruction is being wrought on the world by a few desperate survivors clinging onto life.

Our steady pace brings us closer and closer to the solitary undead limping along on a badly damaged leg.  As we get closer Dave waves his arm for us to slow down and signals us to be quiet.  Indicating we should follow him.

‘We don’t know where they went but neither does Darren,’ Dave whispers as we group in close to listen, ‘He’ll probably go to ground and wait for us to lead him, we follow that,’ he points at the limping zombie, ‘and hopefully we get to him before he can do anything else.’

We’re forced to walk painfully slowly as the undead struggles to shuffle on his clearly broken and mashed up leg.  Going this slow gives me a chance to take in the surroundings,  the debris littered about and the proper dead bodies decaying in the street.  The nightclub above the bowling alley is just up ahead of us and I can see some of these dead are still dressed in their nightclubbing clothes.  I think back to the young woman in the blue dress that tried to bite me back in Boroughfare, Christ that seems like years ago but it’s only been nine days.

‘Do you reckon they got food in there?’ Nick asks nodding towards the front of the bowling alley.

‘The doors are smashed in mate,’ Blowers replies quietly, ‘it’s already looted.’

‘Might be something left, I’m starving.’

‘We’ll go and look mate, we’re all hungry,’ I motion to Nick to follow me, nodding at Dave to make sure he’s okay with it first.

Nick and I sprint off to the left, leaving the group behind as we speed up and turn towards the front of the building.  As we get close to the front I look back to see the others still walking slowly and then judge the distance and how long it will take them to get past us.  At the pace they’re going we could have a few games of ten pin and still catch them up.

We drop down to a steady walk as we near the front doors and I bring my axe up to hold in both hands, watching Nick do the same.  The doors are big wooden double doors, smashed and hanging from the hinges.  We look down at the dried blood stains smeared across the ground and disappearing under the next set of doors.  The interior doors yield as I push them open and we step gently into the slightly darker interior.  Still early morning and the sun hasn’t risen fully yet so the shadows in here are still long and dark.

We step slowly, going past vending and gaming machines that look dark and lifeless without electricity powering through them.  In front of us is the large square reception area with rows of red and white bowling shoes stacked up in various sizes.  To the left are more machines and doors leading to offices and toilets.  To the right is the café, bar and restaurant which is the direction our rumbling stomachs lead us.

The bar and eating area are sectioned off by a high brown wooden wall with two swing doors, giving it a Wild West saloon look.  I take point and push the doors which creak ominously as they swing open.  Nick steps through behind me and they swing closed, flapping noisily a couple of times.  There is a long bar to the left, seating to the right and the door leading to the kitchens is straight ahead.  I nudge Nick and motion with my head towards the windows and the sight of the still limping zombie still struggling to get along outside.

We stalk towards the doorway, taking each step slowly and straining our ears to listen for any noises.  A few steps away from the door it suddenly bursts open. A young Asian woman steps through quickly and stands facing us, a massive meat cleaver in her hands.  Long dark hair scraped back into a pony tail frames a very pretty face, her small build stands solidly, her hands look steady as she holds the cleaver with a double grip.  Eyes dart from me to Nick then back again.  She takes in the big axes, the shotgun stocks poking out the top of our rucksacks but she doesn’t show fear, if anything she looks more resolute.

‘Hey,’ I keep my tone light, ‘Nick back up mate.’  I step back and hear Nick shuffling a few steps away.  ‘Sorry, we didn’t realise anyone was here, we’re just looking for some food.’ She stays silent, staring at Nick and then back at me.

‘Those front doors aren’t locked or secured, anyone could get in here.’ She remains quiet, only her eyes move.

‘Listen, we’re not a threat to you, we came here yesterday looking for survivors from our group.  A load of women and children that might have come into the harbour on boats?’ She doesn’t show any sign of listening, ‘they might have had a few uniformed police officers with them.’ Still nothing. ‘That’s some of our group out there,’ I point out the window and watch her eyes dart over.  A slight look of surprise crosses her face before she purposefully blanks it out and looks back at us.

‘Okay, listen my name is Howie and this is Nick.  We’re from Fort Spitbank on the mainland; if you see our group will you tell them it’s safe to return now?’ Silence.

‘Fair enough, we’ll go.  I don’t know if you’re alone or if others are with you and I don’t want to know but there are hundreds of those things two minutes up that road.  You need to get those doors secure.’

‘Maybe she doesn’t speak English Mr Howie,’ her eyes flick to Nick as he speaks.

‘Do you speak English? No, okay if you do understand me then try and get across the water to Fort Spitbank.  It’s a safe place, safer than here anyway.  If you do go a big man called Chris will be there, tell him you met Howie and we’re still looking for our group. Tell him Darren is over here, got it?’ She doesn’t respond nor move an inch.

‘Come on, let’s go.’

‘Sir,’ Nick affirms.

‘Sorry to disturb you,’ I say with a nod and turn my back to start walking back to the swing doors. Shaking my head at the sadness of it all.

‘That’s a pity, I’m bloody starving,’ Nick mutters as he pushes through the doors.

‘We’ll find somewhere else mate.’

‘Wait,’ she calls out as we reach the exit door, we turn round to see her standing there holding one side of the swing door open, the meat cleaver now down at her side.

‘I saw them,’ she stares at us, her face still a mask.

‘What?’

‘I saw them come from the harbour, women and children.  There were lots of them,’ her voice is confident southern English.

‘Where did they go?’ My voice is urgent.

‘That way,’ she points in the same direction that the undead is slowly heading.

‘Were they okay?’

‘They looked okay, they didn’t hang around.’

‘Okay, any idea where they could have gone?’ She looks puzzled for a second, ‘I mean they’ll go for somewhere safe that can hold that many people.’

‘I don’t know,’ she says, shaking her head.

‘Are you from here?’

‘Yeah,’ she nods once, still unsure.

‘How many are in your group?’ She bites her bottom lip and hesitates. ‘Listen, I promise we’re not a threat to you.  We were just looking for food while we trail that zombie,’ I point out to Dave and the others slowly ambling by.  She steps forward to look past me through the doors and out into the road.

‘Why?’ She asks.

‘Long story, he might lead us to someone we need to…er…’ How do I explain about Darren without sounding like a nutcase?

‘One of our lads got turned, he’s different to the others though he can speak and think like normal.  He’s trying to find our group before we do.  That thing might lead us to him.’ Nick cuts in explaining and it doesn’t sound so weird now.

She nods, seeming to understand, ‘It’s just me,’ she says quickly, ‘I mean here, it’s just me.’

‘Why did you come out then? This place is massive you could have hidden or something.’ I ask her.

‘I thought you were those things…it’s daytime, they move slow in the day.’

‘Didn’t you hear us talking?’ She shakes her head, ‘And they don’t always move slowly in the daytime.  The risk was too great you should have hidden until you knew what the threat was.  We could have taken you and this place with ease the way you presented yourself like that.’

She stares at me defiantly and I realise the tone of voice I used was one of authority.  This woman doesn’t know me, who am I to tell her what to do?

‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that,’ I apologise.

‘It’s okay,’ she mutters quietly.

‘You could come with us if you want. I meant what I said about there being hundreds of those things up the road.  If they get a whiff of you they’ll be in here quick as anything and like I said they don’t always stay slow in the day.’ I make the offer but despite her poker face I can tell from spending so much time with Dave that she is worried.

‘I’m Howie, this is Nick.’

‘You said that already,’ she replies with half a smile.

‘Did I? Fair enough.  What’s your name?’

‘Milani…Lani.’

‘Nice to meet you Lani,’ I nod at her.

‘Is there any food here?’ Nick asks.  I smile at the thought that he must be starving to keep asking.

‘No,’ she shakes her head, ‘not really anyway, some crisps and things but it all went off when the power went.’

‘Crisps will do, I’m bloody starving, where are they? Can I go and get some?’ Nick asks in such a friendly tone that she smiles and nods.

‘In the kitchen, help yourself,’ she motions behind her through the bar.

‘Is that okay Mr Howie?’ Nick asks before scooting off through the swing doors.

‘Get some for the others but leave some for Lani here.’

‘Will do,’ Nick shouts.

‘Lani, I meant what I said.  You are welcome to come with us, you’re local and we don’t know anywhere round here.  Some of our lads are ex-army and I guess what you’re worried about but I promise no one will touch you or try anything like that.’ Mentioning the thing that must be worrying her makes her react by lifting her head and staring at me defiantly again.

‘I’ve got an idea,’ I put the axe down and reach back to draw my shotgun from the bag, she steps back a little at seeing the weapon in my hands, ‘don’t worry, just hang on a second,’ I break the gun to show the cartridges in the barrels, ‘it’s loaded with two shells now, this is the safety switch here.  Just slide it back and pull the trigger, the range isn’t good but at short range they’re devastating.  Here, you take it,’ I hold the weapon out with the stock presented to her.  She frowns at the offer and hesitates before slowly stepping forward to take the weapon and holding it awkwardly in her hands.

‘Please don’t point it at anyone unless you mean to shoot them, and make sure the safety is on.  We only use them when we have to; the noise draws them from bloody everywhere.’

‘What about you?’ She asks, nodding at the axe.

‘I’ve got this and a pistol,’ I draw the pistol from the holster in the middle of my back then realise it might be easier for her to carry that instead of the shotgun. ‘You can have this instead if you want, they kick like a mule though and unless you shoot them in the head they’re no good.’

‘No this is fine, thank you,’ her manner is instantly different, her tone less defensive now she’s holding a decent weapon. Nick comes back through the swing doors, the axe wedged under his arm as he stuffs bags of crisps and peanuts into his bag.

‘I got some and water too...oh…’ he comes up short as Lani turns to him holding the shotgun down at her side.

‘I gave it to her Nick.’

‘Fair enough, do you need some shells? I’ve got loads,’ he drops the bag and starts rummaging about before pulling out a handful of shotgun cartridges, ‘do you know how to load it?’ Nick asks as she takes the cartridges and starts stuffing them into the pockets of her jeans.  I watch for a few seconds as Nick shows her how to break the weapon and re-load cartridges into the breach.  She nods as the friendly lad chats amiably, the tension slowly easing away.

‘Everything alright Mr Howie?’ Dave asks, silently stepping through the door behind me.

‘Fine mate, Lani this is Dave, Dave this is Lani.’

‘Nice to meet you Miss,’ Dave nods as though it’s the most normal thing in the world to see a woman holding a shotgun in a bowling alley in the middle of a zombie apocalypse.

‘Is she coming with us?’ He asks in his usual blunt manner.

‘I’ve offered mate, Lani? We could do with the local knowledge and you’ll be safer with us than here on your own.’

‘Yeah right, after all the scraps we’ve had already,’ Nick laughs then cuts himself off, ‘sorry I didn’t mean it like that,’ he adds to the young woman, ‘just stand next to him and nothing will touch you,’ he nods at Dave who just stares without expression, ‘or the big bloke with the bald head, actually if you stand between them then you’ll probably be the safest person in the entire world.’ He gabbles on as she looks at him with a puzzled expression.

‘Did you get any food?’ Blowers asks as he and Cookey step into the foyer behind Dave.

‘Why are we all here?’ I turn to ask them.

‘That thing is going soooo slowly Mr Howie, Clarence said he’d stay with him and we’re starving, oh hello,’ Blowers stops as he sees Lani and I notice Cookey gives her a big smile.

‘Lani this is Blowers and Cookey, she was in here when we came in.’

‘Nice meat cleaver,’ Cookey smiles.

‘Here,’ Nick throws a bag of crisps at Cookey’s head causing him to jump back laughing.

‘Ah nice one mate,’ Cookey exclaims.  Nick throws another one to Blowers who rips the bag open and starts eating quickly.

‘Is that your shotgun Mr Howie?’ Blowers asks with a mouthful of food.

‘Yes mate, she only had the meat cleaver.’

‘Fair one, you’ll need it,’ Blowers says to her, ‘there’s shit loads of them up there,’ he nods back along the way we just came.

‘You coming with us?’ Cookey swallows a mouthful of crisps and asks the question before stuffing another handful in his mouth.

‘I…er…’ she seems overwhelmed at the sight of the men suddenly in her safe place, armed to the teeth and dressed in half military gear.

‘I’ve offered,’ I explain.

‘You should come with us,’ Blowers says, ‘it’ll be nice to have someone other than this knob to talk to.’ He adds as Cookey splutters with indignation.  The two lads step forward and grab more crisps from Nick’s bag, Cookey offers one to Lani who declines politely.  Within a couple of seconds the three lads are standing round her, chatting amiably as they munch food. Their relaxed banter putting her visibly at ease.

‘We’d better join Clarence before this lot eat all the food, Lani? We’d be more than happy to have you with us.’

‘If that’s okay,’ she nods smiling for the first time.

‘Of course, do you need to get anything?’

‘Just my bag, it’s in the kitchen,’ she starts walking back through the swing doors.

‘I’ll come with you,’ Nick and the other two start going after her, ‘I’ll go,’ Nick says to Blowers and Cookey.

‘No mate, you’ve done plenty of running about, just relax,’ Blowers says as Cookey speeds up to go past them both.  The three of them jostle through the doors following the pretty girl as I shake my head at Dave.

‘Well she’s got a bodyguard now,’ I mutter.

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

‘So you and Clarence okay now?’

‘Yes Mr Howie, sorry about that.’

‘You don’t have to apologise Dave.’

‘Won’t happen again,’ he adds.

‘It might do, just as long as we know why we’re here and what we’ve got to do, we can all fall out as much as we like.  In fact it’s bound to happen but the end goal is the most important thing.’ He stares at me keenly, ‘What?’ I ask him.

‘Nothing Mr Howie,’ he says flatly but holds that gaze for another second before looking away with a very small wry smile.

‘Are you smiling?’ I ask him, shocked at the highly unusual expression.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it Sir.’

‘Don’t start with the Sir stuff, what were you smiling about.’

‘Just what you said, you sound like a proper officer now Mr Howie.’

‘I’m not an officer Dave, I’m a supermarket manager.’

‘You were a supermarket manager and you’re right you’re not an officer,’ he accepts then looks back at me with that same keen look, ‘you’re a leader now and that’s what officers were meant to do; lead.’

‘Ah piss of Dave, fuck me mate we worked in the same supermarket.’ I feel uncomfortable at the comments he makes.

‘Different world Mr Howie, there’s only here and now.’ Thankfully we’re interrupted by the return of the others coming through the swing doors and I notice Lani has a small brightly coloured rucksack on her back, too small for the shotgun to rest in so she holds it in one hand with the meat cleaver in the other.

‘Dave, I found these…any good?’ Blowers crouches down and rolls out a chef’s knife holder full of black handled deadly looking knives.  Dave is on them instantly, drawing each one out and checking the length of the blade, the sharpness, the balance and the weight.  He discards most of them but leaves two long straight bladed knives similar to the ones I’ve seen him use so many times.

‘These two are good, well done Blowers,’ Dave stuffs the roll into his bag before standing up and nodding at the now grinning and proud looking lad.

I head out the double doors back into the early morning air and start walking quickly towards Clarence who is still strolling slowly behind the limping zombie.  I notice he keeps his eyes up, sweeping round every few seconds.  He looks over at us and the new girl walking with us, smiling at her as we get closer.

‘Lani this is Clarence,’ I make the introduction quietly, still trying to avoid alerting the undead that we’re behind him.  He’s well enough ahead and still shuffling along quite happily.

‘Hi, you were in there?’ Clarence rumbles quietly.

‘Yeah,’ she looks in awe at the giant man.

‘You been in there since it happened?’ We settle into a gentle walk, keeping a safe distance behind,  each one of us sweeping round for a full view every few seconds.

‘I was working in the nightclub upstairs, so is this everywhere then?’

‘Yep, I watched it on television when it started in Europe and that fell in a few hours. We’ve been all over the south coast.  London’s gone, no government, no police or army, nothing.’

‘I kept thinking help would come, but it just went on and on.  I saw those people come on the boats and I was going to go out but I…I got scared and didn’t know what to do.’

‘So why confront us then?’ I ask her.

‘I don’t know, I thought you were those things,’ she shrugs as the group listen to her speaking.  ‘I thought they were all slow in the daytime, I’ve already killed a few…’ her voice remains strong yet quiet as she speaks.  ‘Why are we following him?’ She motions with the meat cleaver towards the undead trying to negotiate a high kerb.  His broken leg won’t lift high enough and keeps dragging him back.  We stop walking for a few minutes and watch with growing frustration as he makes attempt after attempt but keeps dropping back down into the road.

‘I’ll go and kick him up the arse in a minute,’ Blowers mutters.

‘Tut tut, anything to touch an arse eh Blowers?’ Cookey says quickly.

‘I’m not rising to it Cookey.’

‘I bet you do for him though,’ Cookey says nodding towards the zombie as Nick sniggers.

‘Yay….oh no…’ Nick sighs as the zombie gets onto the kerb and balances for a few seconds before toppling back down again.

‘They’re gaining,’ We turn as Dave looks back down the way we came at the mass of undead slowly shuffling into view past the now blazing buildings spreading along the road.

‘Shouldn’t we hide?’ Lani asks in a quiet voice.

‘We need to follow that thing to find out where Darren is,’ Clarence replies staring back down the road.

‘Darren?’ Lani asks clearly confused.  Blowers starts recounting the story from when they were at Salisbury barracks and were found by Dave and I.  Nick and Cookey join in eagerly bragging about the exploits, journeys and battles we’ve had.  They go quieter and more serious as they explain about how Darren got turned, how we lost McKinney and through to the final battle when we lost Tucker, Curtis and finally Jamie.  Lani stays quiet throughout the whole explanation, looking to each of them in turn as they all join in with different parts.  She nods and asks quick questions to clarify points and just during that short time I can see she’s an intelligent person and quick to smile as the lad’s infectious humour catches onto her.  At the end she looks downcast and saddened, looking at them earnestly and I see both Nick and Cookey looking away as their eyes fill with tears and they swallow the sudden lumps in their throats.

‘What about you?’ Blowers asks, giving the other two a chance to recover for a minute.  She smiles sadly as we start walking again, the zombie eventually making it up the kerb and continuing his painfully slow shuffle.

‘I was working in the nightclub upstairs; I had to come down to get some change from the office in the bowling alley.  It took me a few minutes to do the alarm and get into the safe.  When I got back up….it was just a mess…I thought it was just a massive fight at first but then I saw the blood and injuries, the biting and people on the floor bleeding.  I ran back down and called the police but they wouldn’t answer.  I kept trying and trying but I couldn’t get through.  After a while I went back up and peeked through the door but it was even worse.  I stayed downstairs after that.  I could see things happening through the windows, fighting and people getting dragged onto the floor….people I knew too…I just hid there all night and most of the next day.  My phone ran out of battery because I tried calling everyone but couldn’t get through.’

‘Have you been there the whole time?’ I ask gently, she doesn’t show any emotion as she speaks and reminds me of Dave the way she keeps her face expressionless.

‘No, I stayed for a few days then one day I got out and went home, I don’t live that far away.  I kept seeing groups of those things standing about and stayed away from them, I got home but my street was full of them...so I went to other people’s houses, people I knew but they were either turned into those things or just gone.  I hid that night and then came back here the next day. When I got back the doors had been kicked in so I figured somebody had been in.  That’s why I didn’t fix them, I didn’t want anyone to know someone was in there,’ she looks at me as she explains that bit.

‘Makes sense,’ I nod.

‘That’s it really.’

‘Family?’

‘No, they were in the street when I went home.  They’d been bitten or whatever.’

‘That’s awful, I’m so sorry Lani,’ I say gently, the others add comforting words too but she remains as deadpan as before.

‘Mum, Dad’ she shrugs, ‘my little brother,’ she nods as though explaining something entirely normal.

‘Bloody hell mate, I don’t know what to say,’ I shake my head and look down at the floor, there are no words to say to someone after seeing that.

‘Nothing really too say, everyone has suffered.’

‘True, you’ve done well by the sounds of it,’ she smiles at me.

‘Very well,’ Clarence adds with a nod at the small woman, ‘so you’ve had contact then?’

‘Contact?’ She asks.

‘With them, you said you’d killed a few,’ he explains.

‘At my friends flat, I knew he had a key hidden so I let myself in but he was already inside.  He must have got bitten and got home before he turned.  I stabbed him in the face, and then some more were in the corridor when I went back out.’ She keeps the same flat tone, either masking her emotions extremely well or is like Dave and it simply doesn’t bother her.  But then she showed empathy when the lads explained about our losses which is something Dave isn’t able to do.

‘Have you seen any other survivors?’ I ask.

‘No, none…other than the people getting off the boats but they didn’t hang around.  There were two older men leading them, one had a white beard.’

‘The bloke with the beard was the navy captain, the other one was Ted, he was probably dressed like a policeman,’ I explain.

‘I couldn’t see clearly but he was dressed in black and looked like he had a gun.’

‘Yeah that was Ted.  So any idea’s where they could have gone? Where does this direction lead?’

‘If you find Darren will you kill him?’ She asks quickly and gets a chorus of emphatic responses from all of us.

‘If you keep going along there’s the esplanade and the boating lake, then it goes to a long forest area until it gets to the next village but that’s a few miles away.’

‘What’s in between?’ Dave asks.

‘Couple of café’s, an old tower on the beach…’

‘Old tower?’ Dave interrupts.

‘It’s really small; you couldn’t fit more than a few people inside.’

‘Okay, keep going,’ Dave prompts her.

‘The forest area, but that’s got a big open space in the middle and it’s not that big really, then there’s Puckpool…wait,’ she stops mid-stride thinking for a second, ‘Puckpool is an old fort too,’ she adds quickly.

‘A fort?’ I ask as we all stop to watch her intently.

‘Yeah, it’s really old, like well over a hundred years or something.  There’s a café and tennis court, car park but one side is really high, it’s all overgrown now but there’s bunkers and like underground tunnels.’

‘It’s worth a look, how far is it?’

‘Couple of hours walk,’ she stares back at me.

‘Right, we can’t risk leading Darren to it so we have to sort him out first, agreed?’ They all nod back at me apart from Lani who bites her bottom lip again.

‘Or we send a scout forward,’ Dave says, ‘I could go for this place Lani said.’

‘We won’t know where to meet, we could get separated or anything could happen, I think we should stick together.’ The thought of losing Dave is almost unbearable.

‘I’ll find you,’ Dave says confident and matter of fact.

‘I don’t like the idea mate.’

‘How about,’ Clarence cuts in, ‘we go for the new place and Dave holds back to see if Darren trails us.’

‘That tower is about halfway,’ Lani says, ‘it’s a good meeting place.’

‘Dave?’ I look at the small serious man, he nods back in agreement.  I still don’t like the idea but it makes sense.  We can make pace to find our group knowing our rear is covered by the most dangerous man any of us, including Clarence, has ever known.  For a second I wonder if the pressure ever gets to him, if Dave ever suffers self-doubt or insecurity instead of the mammoth sense of confidence he oozes from every pore in his body.

‘You won’t see me, but I’ll be nearby,’ Dave shrugs off his rucksack and hands it to a puzzled Lani to hold.  He pulls out a bottle of water and takes a long drink, downing the bottle in one long gulp, ‘Lani, you take my bag, Mr Howie take my shotgun.’ He hands the weapon over and checks his pistol and the two knives tucked into the back of his trousers.  ‘Tell me the route you’re taking?’ He asks Lani.

‘Er, we’ll keep to the beach…that’s it really.’

‘No deviations anywhere?’ Dave asks.

‘No,’ she replies confidently.

‘Okay, no matter what happens do not come back for me,’ Dave says firmly then looks directly at Clarence, ‘do not let them come back for me, wait at the tower for a while and make it so you are clearly seen going there, stay visible.  Wait a few hours but if I don’t come then find shelter for the night, I’ll find you.’

‘Got it,’ Clarence nods.

‘Go straight to the beach and start walking, keep the pace steady and give him time to come after you.’ He nods at the lads, at Clarence and finally fixes his eyes on me.

‘Mr Howie,’ he nods and is gone, racing low across the road leaping over a garden wall and dropping down the other side.  No noise, no crunching footsteps, just an empty void that we all feel.

‘Fuck me, I almost feel sorry for Darren,’ I mutter to break the silence, ‘would you want Dave coming after you?’

‘You’d lose,’ Clarence says quietly staring at the point on the wall where Dave disappeared.

‘He doesn’t look much,’ Lani says to shocked stares from the rest of us, but then he doesn’t look much.  A small quiet man and out of all of us he looks the least threatening.

‘Looks are very deceiving, let’s move out.’

Two

‘See I told you it was a good place,’ Marcy purrs as I look down from the window at the top of the four story building.  She led me and my babies down the road as daylight started to hit, taking us through deserted back streets until we reached the back of one of the huge houses over-looking the esplanade and seafront.  As I raced behind my raven haired zombie beauty I felt for the connection to my lovelies and knew they were with me.  As the daylight hit they started to slow down but the control I have through my mind urged them to keep going and they responded with their staggering gait.  That fucking Howie and his bunch of creepy weirdo’s aren’t the only ones that can move fast during the day.

This infection or virus, or whatever it is keeps changing.  Before the big battle I had complete control over tens of thousands of them, I could feel them and see what they saw.  I could make them dance, jump or do whatever I wanted.  But it weakened them, pushing them too hard without food or fluids made the already dead bodies weak and I can’t afford that to happen this time.  That prick Howie and his little cuntrunt Dave are getting more experienced every day, so are their bum fucking little buddies.

I don’t know why it changed but it feels like I have less control now, I can urge them through my mind but I can’t see through their eyes now, I can’t feel what they feel and I don’t know if I can tap into their collective experiences.  If I’m going to be an honest super zombie then I have to admit that maybe vanity led me astray back there.  I thought because of the power I had over my babies that it would be enough, but it wasn’t.  I should have taken my time and accessed the millions of lessons, experiences and skills my lovelies had in their undead brains.

Fuck it, fuck Howie and his fucking bunch of fucktards.  This time I’m going to get strong and make my babies strong too.  We’ll use stealth and cunning instead of brute force.  Talking of cunning, this Marcy is a cunning bitch and I can’t work her out.  She’s gorgeous and everything a super zombie like me could wish for, but I don’t know if she wants me or the power I have.  Why can she talk and none of the others?  Maybe the infection knows I need some help so it chose her to be the one to do it.  Running through the streets I watch her bouncy backside and wish I could sink my teeth into it again, her arse tasted amazing.

Marcy led us to the back of the house and through a small car park to a single rear door.  It was locked so I made one of my babies’ head-butt the glass pane and reach in to unlock the door.  The poor thing got the head-butt right but struggled with the concept of unlocking it and kept trying to head-butt the lock instead.  I pulled it back and reached in to do it myself, groping round until I found the key on the inside and a key on the inside meant one thing…breakfast.

We could all smell them as soon as we stepped into the house.  The gentle fragrance of shit mingled with piss and an over powering dose of fear thrown in.

Leaving one grumpy reluctant zombie at the door the rest of us started making our way noisily through the house.  I could have made them creep quietly but by making enough noise for the survivors to hear it meant they got more frightened and released more pheromones of fear for us to follow.

Marcy and I led them through hallways and up flights of stairs, giggling and groping each other and I could tell the hunt made her excited as she kept walking faster and faster.  At the top of the final flight of stairs we stopped and stared down the long corridor to the door at the far end.  The stench emanating from it gave away their hiding place.  Marcy started walking towards the door but I grabbed her arm and pulled her back, she spun round grinning at me as I laughed and kept hold of her.

‘Please,’ she begged, ‘I’m so hungry,’ she purred close to my ear before dropping her mouth down to my neck and starting to bite my skin.  Laughing I pulled away and grabbed her wrist as she tried breaking free and running to the door.  Fucking around in the hallway I could sense the eagerness of my zombies to burst through and satisfy their craving but none of them dared to overtake me and held back, but they did groan louder and started making some lovely growling and snarling noises.  That just increased the smell of the fear coming from the room ahead of us, which in turn excited us all even more.  But the pleasure is in the anticipation and being the true tyrannical super zombie that I am, I made them wait until Marcy was on her knee’s begging me to let them go.

‘Say pretty please,’ I smiled down at her frowning face.

‘Pretty please,’ she blinked her red bloodshot eyes up at me.

‘Say pretty please oh great zombie army leader.’

‘Oh pretty please oh great and wonderful amazing leader of all the zombies.’

‘That’s not what I said…’

‘Oh come on please,’ she looked up at me pleadingly, ‘I’ll make it worth your while,’ she smiled and started rubbing her hand on my undead groin.  I stayed silent for another minute or two, just so she knew who was in charge and who the boss was.  But in the end the craving was threatening to overwhelm me too so I pulled her up, turned her round so she was facing the door and squeezed her behind.

‘Kill ‘em all,’ I whispered in her ear and she was off.  The sight got me going, got us all going and as a pack we charged down the hall and ploughed into the door.  It was locked from within but the combined weight of us all throwing our bodies at it soon made it crash open.  And there they were, six scared little survivors.  A whole family by the looks of it, old ones, middle aged ones and some young ones too.

Marcy was wonderful, leaping into them with a frenzied snarl she lashed out and sunk her teeth into one of the middle aged people who stupidly stood up to try and protect the little ones.  While Marcy dealt with them I dropped down on all fours and stalked slowly towards the children, snarling and laughing.  My babies were soon stuck in, chomping away amidst screams of pain and terror.  Munching and slurping as blood sprayed out soaking all of us.  I made them take it easy on most of the bodies and just do enough to turn them, they abided my instruction but I could sense the growing hunger in them so I let them have the little ones to eat fully.  We all did.  Sinking down to tear flesh open with our bare teeth and savour the hot metallic blood pumping out into our mouths.  Breaking away from the feast I made my way from body to body, taking chunks out and making sure my saliva got into their bloodstream.

By the time the feasting finished the first killed were starting to come back, twitching away with convulsions before sitting up and opening their glorious bloodshot eyes.  As each one came back I sensed a new connection being made and made sure they knew who I was.  The more I did it the easier it got and within a few minutes I had a bigger horde.  These bodies were fresh and strong, just turned and I could sense the power in them and the instant hunger they all had.

Now, standing by the window next to Marcy I stare down along the seafront and take in the sweeping bay of golden sands with the blue waters gently lapping away.

‘Why are they lying down?’ Marcy asks as she watches our horde all lower themselves to the floor and lay flat out facing up.

‘I think they go slower during the day to conserve energy.  They don’t eat or drink and even with the infection doing whatever it does to us I think they still wear down and get weaker if they’re pushed too hard.’ Looking at them now I feel a fatherly love for them, my babies all doing as they’re told and resting after a nice big meal.

‘Can you connect to all of them?’ She asks me quietly.

‘Yep,’ I nod before turning to look back out the window, ‘can you feel anything with them?’

‘No, I don’t think so.  What does it feel like?’

‘Think of a bank of monitors all stacked up on a wall and each one giving a different view, that’s what it was like before.  I could see what they saw, thousands of them at the same time but also I could feel them too.  Now the vision has gone but the feeling is still there, like an invisible lead that runs from them to me.  I could access their memories, emotions, experiences before too but that’s gone now.  It’s difficult to explain but I can just feel them.’

‘Like a telepathic connection?’

‘Yeah I guess so.  Whatever this thing is inside of us, it keeps changing, evolving and trying new things.  It gave me so much power before but I fucked up and it feels like I’m almost being punished by having less power now.  If I could tap into all the zombies and see what they saw then we’d find Howie’s little piggy's and fucking destroy them.  He’s such a cunt that Howie.  You should meet him, he’s so fucking righteous and decent it makes you want to puke.  And the way those little twats all look up to him, I mean who the fuck is he? Just some fucking supermarket manager, what right has he got to go slaughtering them all.  This isn’t some virus that’s going to die out, we’re a new species and we’ve got as much right as them to be here.’

‘I do want to meet him,’ she says wistfully.

‘Why? Why do you want to meet him? Do you fancy him or something? Fuck me you’re always talking about him, going on about Howie this and Howie that.  You fucking dirty little slag.’

‘I want what you want Darren, I want to hurt and destroy him for what he’s done to you.  I want to make him our slave, all of them our slaves and every one we turn will worship you until we’ve got an army and we can sweep through this land and claim it as ours.

‘Fuck me you’re ambitious.’

‘For you dear, just for you.’

‘You’re local, where would they go? Somewhere big enough to hold a few hundred of them, somewhere safe they can defend with food and water.’  She stares out the window thoughtfully.

‘There is a place a few miles down the beach, an old mortar battery.  It’s got a big café in the grounds and high walls on one side. That’s the closest place that I can think of, unless they went inland.’

‘No they’d stay somewhere close so that prick Howie can find his little piggy babies and take them back so they can lick his feet and tell him how wonderful he is.  Fucking twat.’

‘That’s the first place to try then, but if they’ve got a few hundred people plus Howie and his men…’ she pauses looking at me.

‘What?’ I shrug at her, ‘we’ll go and fuck ‘em up.’

‘Darren my sweetheart you’re so brave and strong,’ she nuzzles up to me, ‘but if they’ve got so many and we’ve only got a few…’

‘Then we’ll get more,’ I say firmly, ‘we’ll go house to house and find survivors and build a bigger stronger army.’

‘Oh you’re so clever and powerful, I wish I could think like you. Can we do it today?’

‘What about hiding? We’ve got a brilliant view and we’ll see if any of them fucktards go past.’

‘Oh Darren, but you’re connected to all our babies…they can rest and keep watch?’

‘I know! We’ll leave some here to watch and if they see Howie or his little dick friends I’ll sense it, we can post sentries as we go.’

‘Oh baby, it turns me on when you say such smart things,’ her hand drops to my groin and starts rubbing again.

‘Or we could just stay here and be the first zombies to fuck,’ I say as she rubs away.

‘I want that Darren I want that more than anything but you’re right we should focus on getting more bodies today then we’ll be safer and can have all the time together we want.’ She breaks away reluctantly and I can see the longing in her eyes but I am right, we’ve got work to do.  Time for playing later.

Leaving one of my babies at the windows front and back I gather the rest and start leading them back down through the house.  As we get to the back door Marcy asks me to stop and darts off into the kitchen, coming back with two big knives she hands one to me and tucks the other in the waistband of her tight black skirt.

‘I don’t need a fuckin knife I’m a super zombie for fucks sake, what kind of message does that send if I have to start carrying weapons,’ I say with disgust.

‘It shows that you’re clever and smart, it shows that you can use tools and think like normal, it separates us from them,’ she nods at the gathered drooling zombies all staring at me with love and awe.

‘Fuck it,’ I shrug and tuck the knife into my own waistband, ‘if it makes you happy.’

‘You make me happy,’ she smiles brilliantly and flutters her dark eyelashes at me.  She is hot for a dead chick.

Outside I start leading my little horde over to the next house but Marcy says we should go away from the seafront and start a few streets back so we can avoid Howie.  I tell her I’m not scared and if we see them we can fucking eat them but she flutters those eyelashes and pouts that pretty mouth and for the sake of pleasing her I change my mind and decide we should start further in the town away from the esplanade.  Tactically speaking I am right, we shouldn’t be near the front with so few in our group and I’m glad I had the foresight to think of moving away.

Marcy leads the way, cutting through the small streets and twisting lanes of this old town until we’re absorbed in the middle of the residential area and passing huge old houses with big expensive cars burnt out on the road.  We move into one wide avenue and see a small gathering of our brethren shuffling around outside a house.

‘There must be survivors inside,’ I remark as we stride towards them.

‘Can you connect to them?’ Marcy asks, pointing at the undead turning to watch us approach.  I focus hard but the only ones I feel are the zombies round me, the ones I’ve already bitten.

‘No, just ours.’

‘Try biting one of them, see if that makes a difference,’ she urges me as we draw closer.

‘Fuck off, you bite one of them, they’re fucking filthy I might catch a disease or something.’

‘Silly,’ she laughs at me, ‘they’re infected! They won’t have any diseases.’

‘How do you know,’ we stop nearby and watch as the new horde shuffle towards us.  They might be not be connected but they still recognise a super zombie when they see one.

‘Just try one,’ she urges.

‘No fucking way,’ I shake my head.  They’re beautiful gorgeous lovelies all gnarled up from long days in the sun, dried skin with sunken cheeks and a lovely pale deathly pallor, but they do looking fucking gross with flies buzzing round them.

‘Darren, just try it,’ she pulls one forward who stares at her with a look of submissive awe.  She sees my reluctance and draws her knife.  Placing the sharpened edge on its bare arm she pulls the blade back slicing the flesh open and licking her lips as blood starts oozing out.  ‘It’s different,’ she feels the blood between her fingers, rubbing it between her tips and sniffing it, ‘thicker and he doesn’t bleed as much as a normal person would.’

‘We heal faster and our blood congeals quicker, that’s why they go for the either the head or a main artery so we bleed out…don’t lick it Marcy, you don’t know where he’s been!’

‘Oh it tastes nice,’ she licks at the blood on her fingers smiling at me, ‘try it.’

‘I’m not a cannibal Marcy, we don’t eat our own.’

‘Well spit in his cut then, see if that does it.’

‘Oh fucking hell, come here then,’ I pull his arm out and pull a big gob of spit in my mouth before letting it drool out into his freshly torn skin.  As it lands Marcy rubs it in, making sure the saliva gets rubbed down and into his bloodstream.

‘Anything?’ She asks me.

‘Nope,’ I try and focus but nothing happens, no new connections or anything.

‘Maybe you need your blood in him.’

‘Oh well I’ll just chop a fucking finger off shall I and feed it to him.’

‘No baby, I like your fingers,’ she purrs, ‘just make a little nick in your fingertip and drip your blood in his cut.’

Shaking my head I do as she suggests, using the knife to prick the end of one finger and letting the thick drops fall into the wound.  Marcy rubs it in while I close my eyes and search for any new incoming connections.  Nothing happens and I smile at her, she looks disappointed for a few seconds before smiling back at me.

‘Oh well, we’ll just have to do it the old fashioned way my darling,’ she shoves her way through the horde until she reaches the front door.  Trying the handle she finds it locked but steps back to find a nice big rock to use and sends it through the glass pane.  She reaches in and unlocks the door as a man comes running down the interior hallway holding a golf club above his head and screaming loudly.  Marcy just stands there and waits for him to swing out, I start forward thinking she’ll be hurt but she catches the golf club in mid-flight and kicks out viciously into the man’s stomach.  He doubles over and she drops down to rip a chunk of flesh from his neck with her teeth.

‘Bite him honey,’ she says to me with blood dripping down her chin.  The man squirms and fights, lashing out with his fists as I advance on him.  He clutches his neck and screams in anger and fear, crabbing backwards down the hallway and shouting “RUN” to whoever else is in the house.  Doors open and I hear footsteps and terrified screams.  Marcy is ahead of me listening with her head cocked on one side and I notice none of the horde try and push past her either.

The sense of excitement overtakes me so I swoop down and grab his ankle, lifting it up high and taking a nice big chunk out of his fat calf.  He screams as I drop it and I leave him there pissing himself in fear while I charge up the stairs behind Marcy.

A woman launches herself at us from one of the upstairs room, swinging a big kitchen knife but Marcy deftly side steps and sticks her own blade deep into the woman’s stomach, laughing as she falters, trips and goes head first down the stairs.

‘We’ll get her in a minute…now what else do we have here…oh my…oh my oh my,’ she stops in the doorway staring in.  Joining her I look into the room and see a teenage male standing in the middle of the room holding a baseball bat as though ready to strike.  He’s a big lad, all pumped up muscles and spotty skin, clear signs of steroid abuse but he does have massively thick arms.

‘Hello big boy,’ she purrs and slinks a step further into the room, ‘you’re a big boy aren’t you.’

‘Come near me and I’ll fuck you up,’ the boy answers in a surprisingly deep voice. I lean against the door frame and watch with interest.

‘I’m sure you will big boy…fuck me up that is,’ Marcy draws the words out seductively, ‘I just stabbed your mommy in her stomach.’

‘Couldn’t give a fuck, she’s not my mother,’ the boy answers.

‘Oh step mommy is she, wow fancy a big boy like you living at home with a hot step mom like that…did you get on well?’ Despite the incredible circumstances the boy’s face glows red with embarrassment as Marcy claps her hands with glee.

‘Oh you naughty boy…naughty naughty,’ she laughs at him, ‘did daddy know?’

‘Fuck off,’ the boy growls making Marcy laugh even more.

‘I’m not laughing at you big boy, I can see why she was attracted to you with those big muscles.’ Strangely I don’t feel the slightest bit jealous which surprises me, new age new rules I guess.

‘Did she slip in while daddy was at the golf club did she?’ Marcy steps closer, keeping her hands tucked behind her back and taking small steps.  She lowers her head so she can look up at him, fluttering her eyelids and swinging her gorgeous hips.  He tenses up as though ready to swing but I can see his eyes are fixed on her.

‘Oh Darren he’s so lovely….’ She turns to smile at me and I laugh with the absurdity of it, ‘can I keep him? Please let me keep him,’ she giggles and turns back to see him standing there looking confused.

‘Tell me big boy, is it true what they say about steroids?’ she slinks closer and closer to him until he could easily swing out and strike her, but he holds his pose and just watches Marcy with keen interest.  She smiles at him and steps closer until she’s just inches from his towering frame.  ‘Is it true?’ she says quietly and places one hand on the groin of his tracksuit bottoms.  She rubs then grips hard, ‘oh it’s not true…they don’t shrink.’ The boy grimaces with a mixed look of pleasure and confusion still holding the bat up high.

‘Now listen big boy, I am going to bite you,’ she keeps rubbing his groin while she whispers in his ear, ‘it will only hurt a little bit and after that you’ll be mine…’ Amazingly he lowers the bat and stands there with his eyes half closed.  She stretches up and starts nuzzling his neck, gradually applying more pressure as her hand kneads away.  Suddenly she bites down and sucks in his blood, tearing a small chunk of flesh away.  He jumps backwards and clutches his neck with a shocked look on his face, staring at her then at me.  I step into the room and walk slowly towards him.  He backs away in fear, knocking into a desk and sending papers and mugs onto the floor.

‘Take it easy, just let it happen.’ I speak softly and remember how I felt when they took me down in London.

‘Come on now be a big brave soldier for me,’ Marcy slides over to him and starts stroking his face as his legs buckle. He falls to the floor and stares up with a look of terror and despite his size he looks young and frightened.  Marcy drops down and keeps stroking his face as his breathing becomes shallower.  His eyes close and we watch with interest as he gently dies right in front of us.

‘Quick,’ Marcy urges me and I hunker down to suck at the wound on his neck, making sure his blood and my saliva get mixed together.  Drawing back we both watch intently for a few minutes until he starts convulsing, twitching and his eyes spring open to stare out with that magical bloodshot appearance.

‘Welcome back big boy,’ Marcy purrs and for a second I think he’s about to answer but his jaw goes slack and he groans instead.  The connection is there instantly in my mind and I can feel the devotion he has not just for me but for Marcy too.

Two more are taken from this house and we move on, going from door to door turning those inside and gradually increasing the size of our loyal horde.  With each one turned I feel the connection instantly as they open their eyes and come back from the dead.

Our pace increases as we move down the streets feasting, killing and murdering without mercy.  The hunger inside all of us never gets satisfied but with each fresh kill I feel a strengthening of mind and body.

‘Howie can get fucked now,’ I boast to Marcy as we turn the corner into the new tree lined street with a massive following of slack jawed drooling lovelies staggering behind us.

‘Yes my love, but not yet.  We need more before we go after him,’ she replies in a gentle tone.

‘Look at these big houses with their big fucking expensive cars what good did it do them? The greedy fucking cunts with their greedy middle class jobs hiding away like pussies in their own filth and hoping someone comes to rescue them.’

‘I’ve got an idea,’ Marcy suddenly giggles, ‘wait here and keep them back for a minute.’ I make the horde slink into the side of the pavement and crouch down underneath a row of long bushes.  They look fucking ridiculous all bending over in a long line.  Marcy spits on her hands and wipes the blood away from her face then smiles at me before sneaking forward along the garden fence of the nearest house.  I peer over and watch as she goes through the gate and gets halfway to the front door before she lets out a piercing scream and starts shouting for help while she falls down to the ground clutching her leg.  Within minutes I can see curtains twitching and faces looking down at the beautiful woman writhing in agony on the ground.

‘Help, I’ve broken my ankle please help,’ she screams looking about frantically.  The front door opens and two men burst out racing to her aid.

‘Are you bitten?’ One of them asks before they get too close.

‘No… I was hiding in a house down the road but I ran out of food, I panicked and started running and twisted my ankle, I think it’s broken,’ she groans but keeps her eyes narrowed and her hair covering her face so they don’t see her eyes.  I think back to the little shop on the mainland when I pretended to be a survivor.  Smiling I can’t help but start playing too.

‘Marcy?’ I call out in a strained voice, ‘where are you?’

‘Who’s that?’ One of the men asks quickly.

‘It’s my husband…I’m here love, I’ve hurt my ankle,’ she cries out.  I run up the road pretending to be looking for her.  When I see her in the driveway of the house I race in keeping my face down and stoop down when I get to her, examining her leg.

‘Oh baby are you okay?’ I ask with pretend concern trying not to laugh.

‘I think it’s broken,’ She wails, ‘these nice men were about to help me.’

‘Can you help me carry her?’ I call out still keeping my head down.

‘Yeah but quick, get her in quick before we attract attention,’ they come forward and bend down to start trying to lift her.  One of them shoves his arm under her legs brushing her backside inadvertently.

‘Did you just touch my wife’s arse mate?’ I yell at him and he recoils in alarm. ‘Don’t touch my wife’s arse, what are you a fucking pervert? We come here asking for help and you start trying to touch her up you fucking cunt.’

‘I…I didn’t…’ he stammers.

‘He touched my tits before you got here, they both did,’ Marcy shouts.

‘You touched my wife’s tits!?’ I explode in anger.

‘What the fuck?’ They both stare at each other in alarm as I start laughing and hold my hand out.

‘I’m only joking mate, sorry I didn’t mean it but you should have seen your face…oh it was priceless.’

‘What the fuck,’ he repeats, ‘you’re fucking nuts mate.’

‘Talking of faces, have you seen mine?’ I stop laughing and look up at them both, showing them my red eyes and blood encrusted face.  The blood visibly drains from their faces as they start inching backwards before coming to their senses and turning to run.  It’s too late though as Marcy and I lunge at them howling with murderous laughter.  We take one each; dragging them to the ground and tearing flesh open while the house inside erupts in screams.  My horde reacts quickly, pouring through the gate and entering the house with howls and snarls.  Sitting back on my haunches with my eyes closed I feel my zombies as they move from room to room finding more survivors and tearing them open.  I let them have their fun but not too much and I make sure none of the bodies are too badly mangled.

Fucking wonderful, this is the most fun I have ever had.  Marcy and I are both laughing as we stroll through the house together so I can get my saliva into the fresh corpses before they come back.

As the day draws on the heat from the blistering sun grows hotter and our horde grows larger with every pathetic bunch of survivors we find.  And with every new kill I dream of finding Howie’s little piggy cunts and fucking them up.

Three

‘I still haven’t seen him,’ Nick turns slowly round scanning the area as we walk along the concrete path at the top of the beach.  The golden sands roll gently downhill to the blue waters of the sea and the lack of humanity trudging up and down with their dogs and children have left the sands unmarked and virginal.  Sand blown from the beach coats the road and pathway and I guess the council would normally have maintenance vehicles out every day sucking the sand up to deposit back on the beach.  Already within this short space of time the world is forgetting that humans once lived here and nature starts its gradual reclamation of what was our world.

‘You won’t see him,’ I reply, knowing Dave and the incredible skills he has I would be amazed if he let any of us see him.  ‘That’s him up there disguised as that lamp-post.’

‘No he was behind us in that litter bin,’ Blowers adds.

‘I think he’s kidnapped Lani without us seeing and has disguised himself as her,’ Cookey says looking suspiciously at Lani, ‘alright Dave?’ he adds with a nod.  Lani smiles and like Dave it lights her whole face up.

‘I’m still bloody hungry,’ Nick grumbles after a few seconds of silence.

‘There’s a café further up there,’ Lani says.

‘I wonder if they’re open,’ Nick says.

‘Might be,’ Cookey replies, ‘they’ve got a daily special of brains on toast.’

‘They used to get loads of kids down here at night getting drunk and smashing things up,’ Lani explains, ‘the café put metal shutters on the doors and windows so it might be okay.’

‘They had gangs of kids down here?’ I’m surprised that somewhere as nice as this would have those kinds of problems.

‘It was awful in the summer,’ Lani says, ‘every kid on the Island would come over here.  I used to go down here too,’ she shrugs, ‘nothing else to do really.’

‘What about the beach?’ Clarence asks.

‘What about it?’ Lani replies.

‘There’s loads to do on the beach and you’ve got lots of open spaces, countryside and forests.’

‘So?’

‘I grew up on a housing estate in London I would have killed to live somewhere like this.’

‘It’s pretty but boring,’ she says.

‘Are you from here?’ Blowers cuts in.

‘Thailand, my family came here when I was very young so I grew up here.’

‘I love Thai food,’ Nicks says clearly still thinking of his stomach, ‘there was a Thai restaurant where I lived.’

‘Is that the café?’ I ask seeing a squat brick built building a few hundred metres ahead.  As we get closer I see the shiny metallic shutters on the doors and windows just as Lani said.  The café is set on a grass bank and surrounded by rows of old style beach huts and flower beds sloping down to the sandy beach.  In the contrasting tranquil beauty of the area the shutters look ugly and urban, a sign that all was not well in the life we thought was civil and ordered.

‘The towers just there,’ Lani points further up the beach to a Disney looking structure; a small single castle tower looking distinctly out of place.

‘Right I’m bloody famished, we’ll get in that café and get some proper food.  Cookey and Blowers go round the back and see if you can find a way in.  Nick you watch the way we came from, Clarence you okay watching ahead?’

‘Yes boss,’ Clarence replies striding a few steps forward to get a good view.  Cookey and Blowers quickly peel off as Nick walks back a few steps and turns to watch the route we just took, leaving Lani and I standing together.

‘So you were in the army then?’ Lani asks after a few seconds.

‘Me? No I was a night manager in a supermarket.  I worked with Dave; he was in the army a few years ago, Clarence too.’

‘Oh I thought you were.  You look like you were in the army.’

‘Do I?’ I laugh quietly, ‘I guess that’s better than looking like a supermarket manager.’

‘But you’re in charge of them all?’ She asks with a serious look.

‘Well…kind of I guess that just sort of happened on its own.  It’s weird really, how it came about.  I was desperate to get to London to find my sister and things kept happening that slowed me down so I just kind of took over so I could do what I needed to get done…if that makes any sense at all,’ I shake my head smiling wryly at the memories of the last nine days.

‘Your sister? She’s with the group that came here?’

‘Yeah, they’ve got some good people with them so they should be okay.’

‘Mr Howie, the rear doors are shuttered too.  We’ll need a vehicle or something to pull them off,’ Blowers calls out as he and Cookey appear from the side of the building.

‘Nick! Can you hotwire a car mate?’ I call out.

‘Older ones are easier than new ones Mr Howie, I’ve never done one but it can’t be that hard.’

‘Nick is brilliant with electrical things,’ I say to Lani, ‘he hotwired Tower Bridge in London a few days ago.’

‘We just need a car now,’ Blowers says joining us with Cookey.

‘There’s a car park up there,’ Lani points up the hill behind the café.

‘Is it open land or are there places for those things to hide?’ I ask her.

‘It’s all open, literally like a two minute walk.  I’ll go with Nick if you want and show him.’

‘Take Blowers with you, Cookey you go a bit further up and keep a line of sight with them and us, I’ll take Nick’s position.’  They move off as I take over, watching the rear while Clarence stands solidly watching ahead and scanning round every few seconds.  The beach is on my right with the pavement and then the road ahead of me.  On the left is a high old stone built wall with huge tree branches hanging low.  Dave must be behind that wall somewhere, he could be there now watching me.  I give a little wave in case he is watching, then feeling stupid I stick one finger up and smile to myself hoping he’s not offended.  But then I don’t think it is even possible to offend Dave, apart from that time I broke his shotgun in Portsmouth.  I wonder how Chris is getting on, if he’s got our fort back up and running yet.  It’s funny but already I’m thinking of it as sort of home, the place where we need to get back to.  There’s no rules now, no society that demands we act or behave in a certain way.  Any one of these lads or Clarence could just say fuck it and walk off to live how they want.  But we all know we’re stronger together and there is an incredible bond between us already.

Lani’s words replay in my head, that I’m the one in charge.  I don’t mean to boss them about but it just feels natural now and even with Clarence and Dave I can feel them waiting and watching for the decisions to come from me.  Even when I defer to their skills and experiences it’s just a given that it will be me making the final decision.  People are strange, the need to have that pecking order even when the world is ending.  There could be hundreds or thousands of groups like ours with normal everyday people that had mundane jobs suddenly thrust forward and taking leadership.

The sounds of smashing glass followed by vehicle alarms rings out for a few seconds and I imagine Nick quickly releasing the bonnet clasps to detach the battery wires.  The sounds cut off as expected and are followed a few minutes later by an engine roaring to life.  I listen as the sound draws closer until an old red van comes into view bouncing over the grass and slewing round the side of the café with a grinning Nick at the wheel and Lani sitting next to him laughing.  Blowers and Cookey come jogging behind it with Blowers yelling abuse at Nick for making them both run.  The van comes to a halt and Nick gets out laughing and pointing at Blowers, Lani clambers down holding a thick tow rope coiled over one shoulder.

The lads piss about as they hook one end onto the shutters and fasten the other end to the van.  Between them they work quickly and in good humour and I watch Lani joining in laughing and joking with them.  With a gesture from Blowers she jogs forward and climbs into the driver’s seat and again I wonder at the pecking order of human life.  Even amongst those few young people Blowers assumes the role of leader and directs the others.  They laugh and joke but even so, they do as instructed and without question.

‘Now Lani!’ Blowers shouts.  The van surges forward with Lani at the wheel, the rope goes instantly taut and rips the shutters from the frame with a loud wrenching noise followed by a metallic clang as it bounces on the concrete ground.  Nick and Cookey get to the door together and start synchronised kicks until the thick wooden door bursts open.  They all cheer at the small victory and I watch with interest as they all instinctively turn to look at me, waiting for my response and the next instruction.

‘Brilliant! Well done, me and Clarence will stay here while you get some food, Lani make sure they don’t eat anything poisonous,’ she laughs and nods as they disappear into the café.  Looking up I see Clarence smiling at me with a huge grin and I stroll over to him, making sure I’ve got a good view of the surrounding area.

‘She seems nice,’ I remark to the big man.

He nods back, ‘been through it by what she says,’ he replies.

‘I worry though mate, we’ve got this far thanks to Dave and you but what if something happens and we lose him, or lose you…’

‘You’ll survive as long as you stay together.’

‘Yeah maybe but we need to increase our chances, mate maybe you and Dave could give us some training or something.  Not just in guns but with other weapons like knives or something.’

‘I’ve seen you fight,’ Clarence grins, ‘I’ve watched all of you fight, it’s wild but it’s brutal and it works.  Training could confuse or restrain what you’re doing naturally.’

‘Okay…just a thought.’

‘What are they doing?’

Looking over I watch Nick and Cookey dragging a large wooden table down onto the middle of the path followed by Blowers carrying handfuls of drinks and food.  Nick and Cookey go back inside and come back out within seconds carrying more grub until the table is laden with packets, bags and bottles of water and juice.  Lani appears carrying a big bowl of fruit.

‘Fruit!’ Clarence smiles and starts walking towards her, ‘any bananas?’ he calls out.

‘They’re mouldy and black,’ Lani replies ‘but there’s some apples and oranges here.’

‘Dave said to wait at the tower but I guess this is close enough, just make sure we keep a good watch,’ I sit down at the table and select a big green apple, looking at it closely before I sink my teeth into it and feel the fresh juice burst into my mouth.

‘Oh that’s so good.’

‘There’s a barbeque inside with a gas bottle, I’ve got it going to make hot water for coffee,’ Nick comes out smiling and rubbing his hands together.  A few minutes later I’m watching as the lads devour everything in front of them while Lani eats politely.  I can see she’s hungry but she restrains herself from going mad, unlike the rest of us who go at it like crazy.

Sitting in the beautiful warm sunlight we could almost forget why we’re here and what we’re here for.  The food gets eaten and Nick goes back into the café with Lani before re-appearing a few minutes later with a tray of plain white coffee mugs all steaming away.

‘Milk portions!’ Cookey exclaims, delighted at the sight of the individual long life milk sachets.  He rips the top off one and drinks it down quickly.

‘Oh look at this,’ Blowers groans with pleasure, ‘coffee, sugar and milk…’ like I said, small victories make for the best feelings sometimes and for this short amount of time while the world crumbles around us and with a town full of cannibal zombies ready to rip our hearts out, we sit in the sun drinking coffee.  Nick breaks out a packet of cigarettes and hands them round, Blowers, Cookey and Lani take one each and are soon sitting there in a state of bliss.  The temptation is too much so I slide one out of the packet and light it up, inhaling deeply I hold the smoke in my lungs for a second before blowing it out gently and immediately doubling over with a coughing fit.

‘Shit, I haven’t had one for ages,’ I wipe the tears from my eyes and take another drag as the others laugh at my sorry state.

‘You shouldn’t smoke Mr Howie,’ Dave’s voice surprises us all, making us jump and start going for weapons laying within grabbing reach.  He’s leaning against the corner of the café watching us benignly.

‘How long have you been there?’ I splutter.

‘Only a second or two,’ he walks over and sits down next to Clarence.  Taking a bottle of water he screws the top off before downing it in one.

‘I’ll get you a coffee Dave,’ Nick gets up heading towards the café.

‘Is there herbal tea?’ Dave asks into a sudden silence as we all take in what he just asked for.

‘Herbal tea?’ Nick asks.

‘Camomile or Peppermint,’ Dave says. Taking an apple from the nearly empty bowl, he pulls a small knife from a pocket and starts cutting chunks off.

‘Right…yeah…I’ll er have a look,’ Nick says.  Dave puts the chunk of apple in his mouth before looking up and seeing us all staring at him.

‘I like herbal tea,’ he shrugs and cuts another chunk of apple.

‘Fair enough mate, did you see anything?’ I ask him.

‘Nothing,’ he shakes his head and looks at me, ‘something isn’t right, I can feel it.  There’s no movement, nothing was following you…nothing,’ he adds.

‘That’s a good thing right?’ Cookey asks.

‘Should be,’ Dave replies, ‘but it isn’t…’

‘Why not?’ Blowers cuts in.

‘It means Darren has found something else to do,’ Clarence says, ‘something more important than coming after us.’

‘I see,’ I reply, ‘what could that be? If I was him I would be trying to build resources again, getting more of those things before he comes at us.’

‘Maybe we should go after him now then?’ Blowers says with a hard look, ‘take the fight to him for a change.’ Cookey nods seriously, Lani glances at them both before looking back to me.

‘I agree,’ Nick adds placing a mug down in front of Dave.

‘We’ve got a guide now,’ Clarence nods at Lani.

‘Options,’ I lean forward, ‘we’re here to get our group and get back to our fort, Darren poses a risk and will kill them and us at the first chance he gets.  He could be trying to get more zombies to come after us which means we either take him out now but by doing that we put ourselves at risk or we keep going and hope we can find them before he does.’

‘By which time he could have turned loads of them and be an even bigger risk, and we don’t have the firepower or the resources to fight back like we did last time,’ Dave replies flatly.

‘And we’ll be lucky to find them and get back to the boats before nightfall, and even then we’ve got to hope the tide isn’t out.  Last night was hard enough, these shotguns are good but they take too long to re-load,’ I take another drag of the cigarette.

‘If we knew they’d stay slow we’d stand a good chance of getting them now,’ Blowers says, ‘but we know they can turn like that,’ he clicks his fingers for effect.

‘Pity there’s not an army base we can raid again,’ I mutter.

‘There is,’ Lani says quickly, ‘there’s a Territorial Army camp but it’s on the other side of the Island.’

‘How far is that?’ Dave asks.

‘Driving? Maybe an hour there and an hour back.’

‘Do you know where it is?’ I look at her closely.

‘I know the area it’s in, I went there once with my school years ago.’

‘Did they have weapons?’ Dave questions her, ‘what did you see?’

‘They had army guns,’ she stares off clearly trying to think, ‘like you see the soldiers with on TV.’

‘Were they live firing?’ Dave asks.

‘What’s that?’ She replies.

‘Could they shoot bullets?’ Clarence takes over, ‘did you see them being fired? Were there any targets up like on a range or anything like that?’

‘Oh yeah we watched the soldiers shooting targets, they were lying down and firing down this long field with a big hill at the end, we had to wear things on our ears because of the noise.’

‘Lani, when the guns were fired, did you see the bullet cases being ejected from the side of the weapon?’ Clarence asks with serious intent but keeping his tone steady.

‘Yeah loads of them, like in the movies,’ she nods.

‘Right, what are the chances that someone hasn’t got there before us?’ I ask, ‘if they take school groups there then everyone on this Island will know, plus all the soldiers stationed here.’

‘Shit, good point,’ Clarence looks over at me, ‘if I was local it would the first place I would head for.’

‘We don’t have the time to risk getting over there and finding it either looted or more likely defended and they might not take kindly to a bunch of armed men knocking on their gates.  We stick to the plan, find our people and get out of here.’ Nods all round although I get what they’re saying and going after Darren is a tempting idea.

We fill our bags with water and whatever snack food we can fit in before shrugging the packs on and setting off again.  The thought that Darren must be massing again drives us on and our pace increases until we’re all sweating heavily in the blistering heat, apart from Dave and Lani who both remain looking cool and collected.

Following the shore line we walk round the long sweeping bay on the picturesque path separating the sand from the wooded area.  Birds sing happily, insects and bee’s buzz about merrily doing whatever insects and bee’s do.  They know nothing of this infection that’s wiped out one species already but then I remember the rats that attacked us at the motorway service station.  They were clearly infected so why not all species, why just us and rats? Surely an infection or disease can’t just choose who it infects.  But then there is a strong relationship between humans and rats.  Rats will eat anything so if they chomped on the rotten corpses and got infected what’s to stop something else eating the rats.

‘What eats rats?’ I ask out loud.

‘Cats,’ Lani answers quickly.

‘Birds, foxes…dogs…anything that’s hungry enough,’ Clarence replies.

‘The rats at the service station?’ Dave asks guessing my thought process.

‘Yeah, just wondering what else could get infected.’

‘Everything I guess,’ Nick cuts in.

‘We might get zombie spiders,’ Cookey shudders as Blowers bursts out laughing.

‘You fucking twat! Zombie spiders!’ He sputters.

‘Why not?’ Cookey retorts, ‘they could get infected if they ate something that was infected.’

‘What do spiders eat then?’ Blowers goads him.

‘Flies…and flies will lay eggs on anything, especially warm rotting corpses,’ Cookey says.

‘Well, when you put it like that,’ Blowers stops laughing and stares round suspiciously at the ground as though expecting a horde of zombie spiders to suddenly launch themselves at us.

‘So do you think this is manmade or what?’ Cookey asks.

‘What the disease or whatever it is?’ Nick says, ‘is it a disease or virus or infection or what?’

‘I don’t know mate,’ I shrug, ‘isn’t it that a virus causes an infection? Like the virus goes from person to person and they become infected as a result.’

‘So it’s both?’ Lani asks.

‘Maybe, isn’t a disease something that develops and doesn’t need a virus?’ Cookey replies, ‘Blowers, what did your doctor say at the STD clinic?’

‘He said I caught syphilis from your mum,’ Blowers quips followed instantly by hoots of laughter from Nick and Lani, even Clarence chuckles deeply.

‘Leave my mum out of this,’ Cookey says in good humour.

‘That’s what the navy said that day,’ Blowers quips again.

‘You’d know what the navy said,’ Cookey retorts, ‘I bet you spent a lot of time with sailors.’

‘Oh good comeback mate,’ Blowers nods with respect.

‘I thank you,’ Cookey smiles taking a small bow.

‘I think it probably is manmade,’ I cut in, ‘probably some bloody scientists pissing about with things they should have left alone.’

‘What like terrorists?’ Nick asks.

‘I don’t know mate,’ I sigh, ‘to be honest I wasn’t sure where I stood on the whole terrorism thing?’

‘What do you mean?’ Clarence asks.

‘Well I’m sure we faced a threat from people who didn’t like us, meaning the west, but I just think governments can get away with murder by playing the terrorist card.  Don’t get me wrong, there’s plenty of bloody crazy people in the world who want to kill anyone that doesn’t believe in the same things as them so I guess we had to take some action, but I don’t know…it just felt it was more about oil than anything else.’ I realise I’ve just voiced an extreme view to two people who have probably devoted their lives to fighting and killing in the name of our country.  Dave stays quiet and blank faced as ever but Clarence looks thoughtful.

‘What about an antidote or cure, there has to be something that can fix it,’ Cookey continues his questions with a keen interested look.

‘It works so quickly though mate, we’ve all seen how fast it can take over the body, how it can evolve and change.  If it was just how it started out it would be easy in theory to go out and kill them in the day and hide at night, but it changed and became different.  It evolved to survive and that’s just here with this threat.  Imagine how else it could have changed in other places to survive other threats.  We don’t know how long Darren was infected before he finally turned, or why he was chosen, but we know he can speak, think and do all the things we can do…’

‘So an antidote might work on one strain but not work on another, is that what you’re saying?’ Lani asks.

‘I don’t know,’ I shrug feeling helpless and unable to voice the nagging fear within my mind that there will not be a cure for this.  There won’t be any men in white lab coats pissing about with test tubes and monkeys.  This is what the world is now; two species fighting to survive.  ‘Keep it simple and one step at a time.  We find the others and get back to the fort then worry about everything else later.’

‘Amen,’ Clarence rumbles.

‘How much further?’ I ask Lani.

‘Not far, round the next bend and just a bit further on,’ even she’s starting to sweat now with the high heat and the sun glaring off the hot sand.  The humidity feels high too and far hotter than any English summer I can remember.  Rather than slowing down to take our packs off we dip into each other’s bags and take bottles of water out, rehydrating from the constant sweating and anticipation of not knowing if something will happen round the next corner.  Dave turns as we march along and walks backwards, lifting his hand to shield his eyes and scan the route behind us.

‘Anything?’

‘No Mr Howie, nothing,’ He scans for a few more seconds then about turns to carry on.

‘Up there,’ Lani points off to a high wall butting up against the sea and what looks like a path snaking behind it into the tree line, ‘the path either goes down onto the beach or round through the grounds of the park.’

‘Park?’ Dave asks with concern.

‘That’s what it is now,’ she replies, ‘a park with mini golf, tennis courts and a café.’

‘You said it was a fort,’ Dave states with his usual diplomacy.

‘It was a fort or something, maybe a battery? I heard it being called that too.’

‘A mortar battery,’ Dave replies.

‘Yeah that.’

‘Well we’ll see in a minute,’ reaching the end of the path we’re on I can see a steep flight of stairs going down onto the beach and the high wall ahead of us.  It looks solid and built in the same thick stone I saw in fort Spitbank.

‘That’s got to be five or six metres high,’ I say as we draw closer, ‘should slow them down a little.’  To the right I see a path following the high wall as it disappears into the tree line.  We stop to look behind us for a few minutes, each of us shielding our eyes and scanning every inch of the vista before us.  The path has risen gradually as we’ve come along so we can see right along the sweeping bay back further than the café we stopped at.  Nothing moves in my field of vision and none of the others pass remark at anything.

With a final look round we head into the darkened copse following the high wall and instantly feeling the slightly cooler shaded air.  The path ends at a right angle going off to the left and we see the high wall running into a steep grass bank.  Turning the corner the dirt path gives way to concrete with the high bank running along on our left and a dilapidated fence on the other side.  The bank creates a funnel which would be a perfect spot to erect a barricade and prevent entry but my heart starts to sink at the lack of any signs of fortification in this place.

In silence we move forward, hands gripping our weapons and looking all around as we come out of the funnel, the high bank ends suddenly and the area in front of  us opens out into a wide, modern car park.  We step out into the light and see no signs of life, no fortifications, no barricades or armed sentries waiting to challenge us.  On the left there are high concrete walls with multiple thick rusted metal doors embedded in them at ground level.  The undulation of the walls and the mounds clearly indicate a bunker complex from the Second World War long left to fall into ruin.  At the top of the concrete wall we see metal fencing and wooden benches set at intervals.  Metal staircases fixed to the walls lead to the top and we see more doors and barred gates as we slowly make our way into the park.

The ground on the right opens out into a large flat grassy area with signs to enquire at the café for pitch and putt golf.  A small brick built kiosk stands at the edge of a children’s play area, now looking ominous and somewhat sinister in the silence of the gorgeous summer day with slides, monkey bars and swings all static and unused for several days.  The construct and layout is eerily similar to that of fort Spitbank.  The same conventional doorways with the same grey coloured concrete.  This must have originally been a Palmerston Fort too and then adapted over the years for use in the World Wars.  With the bunker rooms, high walls and funnel entrance I’m amazed that it hasn’t been taken over and fortified.

‘Spread out in a line, look for any signs they passed through here,’ I give the instruction quietly and feel a creeping sense of unease.  I expected to find our group here and I can’t understand why this hasn’t been put to use.  The group spread out into a thin line with each person walking slowly, checking the ground, looking left and right and turning to scan behind them as they go along.

Reaching the kiosk I see another smaller car park built into the left side where the building line drops back.  Up ahead is a long low single story building with big plate glass windows and the word café painted in thick black letters on the roof tiles.  There are small brick built buildings standing isolated in the grounds, they look solid and well-built but have clearly been bordered up for long years with high weeds growing round the outside.

Immediately behind the kiosk is the hard surface tennis courts still with the netting in place across the middle.  High metal fencing runs round the perimeter obviously to stop meandering tourists from getting whacked in the face by flying tennis balls.

‘Fuck me,’ Blowers mutters at the sight of the bodies stacked up in the middle of the courts and the many undead standing around them all slack jawed and drooling.  At the sight of us they turn slowly and start shuffling over to the fence.  I stare in horror expecting to see members of our group, or even worse my sister Sarah.  We all stare over at them and I edge closer to examine each one closely.  Breathing a sigh of relief I turn and shake my head at the rest, ‘none of ours that I can see.’  They nod back and walk over to the fence, staring in amazement at the sight of the dead and undead bodies.

‘Someone’s put them in there,’ Dave whispers.

‘Why though?’ I ask.  The bodies in the middle look like dead zombies judging by the injuries and emaciated withered appearance.  Quite a few of them are stacked up, not neatly like Dave did in the supermarket but just heaped together.  At least twenty undead are still up on their feet though groaning as they drool and bang their faces against the metal fence.

‘Someone just moved in the café,’ Lani whispers urgently.  We spin round to face the building but see nothing other than what looks like an empty place, ‘someone came to the door, saw us and darted back in,’ she adds in the same hushed but rapid tone.

‘Let’s go and see,’ I whisper back and we set off walking down the side of the chain link fence of the tennis court.  The building line comes out further from the left here with a clear addition of rooms accessed by deeply recessed doors.  This forms a narrow road only wide enough for one vehicle, the road runs down to the café and is bordered on the right by a chest high wooden fence which ends to show a wide grassed area in front of the café and I guess this is normally where tables and chairs would be put for the summer visitors.

‘See anything?’ I ask, none of them reply but keep focussed on the café with Dave and Clarence making constant sweeps all around us.  We stop at the end of the fence and look over the grass to the café.

‘The other entrance,’ Dave nods off to the right and I see high ornate metal gates embedded into the high concrete wall.  The gates are hinged to allow vehicles to enter the park area but are now closed with a thick looking chain wrapped round the middle struts.

‘What’s behind the café Lani,’ Dave asks quietly.

‘Nothing, just a back lawn and the high wall,’ she answers.  We move slowly across the lawn watching the front of the café and staring through the plate glass windows at the tables and chairs inside.

‘The café door’s open slightly,’ Dave says in muted tones as we get halfway across the lawn.

‘STAND STILL AND PUT THE WEAPONS DOWN,’ a loud voice booms out behind us, we spin round with Dave and Clarence instantly releasing their axes and having the skill and experience to drop and roll off, drawing pistols from their belts.  Blowers and Cookey throw their axes to one side and reach back to pull their shotguns, both of them going into a crouch and stepping quickly to present a moving target.  Nick jumps in front of Lani and starts moving away while also drawing his shotgun. A figure clad in black paramilitary clothing strides out of one of the deep recessed doors holding a rifle, another comes out quickly behind him.

‘DAVE NO,’ I bellow, as fast and loud as I can, knowing Dave could drop them both instantly. The two figures stride into the road and move their rifles between us all, aiming down from balaclava covered faces. Clad in dark overalls tucked into boots they look like something out of a Special Forces movie.  Within a split second the two are covered by Dave and Clarence pointing pistols at them and the rest of us holding shotguns.  They react as though surprised and seem suddenly unsure what to do.

‘DROP THE GUNS,’ the lead black clad figure bawls out.

‘DROP YOURS OR I WILL KILL YOU BOTH,’ Dave’s amazing voice booms out and they both turn to stare at him.

‘UP TOP,’ Blowers shouts, he holds his shotgun in one hand and draws his pistol with the other, aiming one at the figures in the road and the handgun at a third black clad figure leaning over the railing and pointing another rifle down at us.

‘STAND DOWN,’ Dave booms out again and I watch as both the figures in the road twitch their rifles between the several targets in front of them.

‘EASY, DAVE TAKE IT EASY LADS NO ONE FIRES,’ I call out and both figures turn to watch me.

‘Got it Mr Howie,’ Dave acknowledges but keeps his pistol in a two handed grip moving swiftly between the two figures in front of him.

‘Lads, nobody shoots, got it?’

‘Got it,’ Blowers answers but like Dave he keeps the shotgun levelled at the people in the road and the pistol pointing up at the figure above.

‘We’re not here for trouble,’ I say to the two figures as they stare silently back at me, looking closer I can see the uniforms are unmarked and the one that hasn’t spoken is trembling. ‘We’re looking for members of our group that might have come through here, we don’t want trouble and we don’t want a fight, please just lower your weapons and we’ll do the same.’

‘What’s your name?’ The lead man asks in a gruff voice.

‘My name is Howie,’ I take a slight step forward and lower my shotgun down to my side.  The two figures glance at one another and visibly relax , gradually they lower their rifles too.

‘So which one of you is Dave?’ The man pulls his balaclava off to reveal a balding head and a big grin, ‘they said you’d be coming.’

Four

‘Fucking look at all my lovely babies,’ I laugh out loud and slap Marcy hard on the backside, she looks up from her kneeling position smiling at me with fresh blood pouring down her chin, the hapless victim squirms on the ground under her iron grip and starts screaming again.  I’m amazed the woman is still alive after the amount of flesh that’s been ripped from her stupid fat body.  We’re upstairs in another house in another street.  All of these houses look the same to me, fucking beige walls with beige carpets and fucking beige sofa’s.  Still, the colour beige really shows the blood well and I don’t think we’ve found a house of survivors yet and not left at least one room a bloodbath.

In fact we’ve got so many now that they can’t all fit into the houses and are stacked up outside and grumbling at not being let in to feast.  I pull the curtain back and open the window to look down into the street at the hundreds of faces all turned up to stare at me.  I can’t see through their eyes but I can feel their devotion and loyalty to me.  Like a super organism now, one part made of many and me in the middle leading them all.  And this lot are different, they’re fresh and strong and very hungry.

‘Our babies darling,’ Marcy sinks back down to finish the screaming bitch off, finally she sits back on her haunches and motions for me to take my bite.  I crouch down and suck at the blood pumping out of her fat throat.  No matter how much of this I’ve had I still feel hungry for it.  The more I had the more I wanted until it became frenzied and we ran from house to house tearing throats open and killing the little cunts as they screamed and begged.  A few fuckers fought back and one even managed to kill a couple of my babies before I stepped in and threw him out of a closed window and let the rest outside tear him limb from limb.

Howie can suck my zombie balls now, he can fuck off and go blow Dave in a dark corner because while they’re all reading the bible and playing goody goodies I’m here putting the hard work in and trying to make sure these poor souls have got everything they need.  Just imagine if I wasn’t here to look after them, what would they do? They’d suffer and maybe get a few feeds in but otherwise they’d languish outside in the heat and get all withered and dried out like prunes.

Looking up at me Marcy wipes the blood from her chin and casually looks down to examine the crimson soaked material of her blouse, frowning she pulls it away from her body but the sodden material clings to her frame.  Glancing up again she takes in the state of my own filth encrusted clothes and shakes her head,

‘We need clean clothes,’ she sighs languidly.

‘Why?’

‘The leaders of the zombie army should look the part, smartness maketh the zombie,’ she adds with a smile.

‘I don’t want clean clothes,’ I examine the front of my own disgustingly putrid attire, ‘we look good,’ I nod smiling at her.

‘No Darren, we look filthy, we’re getting cleaned up and after that we’re going to find some clean clothes and then have a look and see if we’ve got enough bodies to go after your friend Howie.’

‘He’s not my friend,’ Instant anger flushes through me, ‘he’s a fucking cunt and I’m going to get my lovelies to pin him down while I take a big zombie shit in his mouth.’

‘But we are going to get cleaned up first,’ she says firmly, ‘are you connected to me?’ she asks quickly with a serious expression.

‘No,’ I shake my head, ‘I keep trying but I can’t find you and I don’t know why.’

‘Oh well darling, I’m sure it’ll come,’ she pats my arm and starts walking out of the room as the fresh corpse at my feet starts twitching.  ‘Well come on then,’ Marcy motions with her head to follow her down the hallway to the small bathroom. Once inside she reaches into the shower cubicle and turns the spray of water on.

‘Fuck off if you think I’m getting in there,’ I recoil backwards towards the door, ‘zombies don’t wash Marcy.’

‘Darren we are filthy and you smell disgusting,’ she looks at me pointedly.

‘No fucking way,’ I shake my head, ‘not happening, I like this smell,’ to prove the point I pull my soaking top away from body and inhale the odour of death and metallic blood deeply and smile at her.

‘Strip,’ she orders.

‘No chance,’ folding my arms I make my stand, firm and resolute.  If she thinks I’m getting under that clean fresh water she can think again.

‘Fine, then you can stand there and watch,’ she rips her blouse open sending the little plastic buttons pinging onto the floor.  She discards the top and shrugs her tight black skirt down to stand there in black bra and panties, ‘if you don’t want to join me that’s fine, maybe I’ll go and get big boy up here to wash my back for me.’  She turns away from me and reaches round to unclasp her bra, shrugging it off and letting it fall to the floor.  She bends forward and pulls the panties down and my eyes fall to the smooth curve of her arse and the crusty scab forming over the bite I gave her.  My undead zombie hearts starts beating faster at the sight of her naked body all covered in patches of dried blood and filth.  She steps over the bath into the powerful spray of water and lets out a loud scream.

‘Oh that’s so cold it hurts,’ she wails turning slowly round, ‘it hurts so much it’s so nice,’ she purrs.  She stops turning to stand facing me with her arms down at her side, letting me take in her naked body, the mounds of her breasts and the dark nipples, her flat stomach and the gentle curve of her hips.

‘Fuck this,’ I rip my own clothes off and jump into the water with her, she squeals with laughter as I yell out with the exquisite agony of freezing water pummelling my skin.

Twenty minutes later we’re out of the shower using old towels to dry off and avoiding eye contact.

‘Don’t worry darling it’s been a busy day, it happens to everyone,’ she says kindly but I feel oddly flat.  The extreme actions of the killing rampage, the utter depravity of going from house to house and the overwhelming urge to bite and kill left the act of sex feeling mundane and boring, I had a go but after a few minutes it went soft and to be honest I think we both felt glad it was over.  Like it was some ritual we had to go through to cement our joining of minds or the traditional beginnings of a formulaic relationship.  Meet a pretty girl, go out on a date and then have sex.  Times are different and we are different.  The urges coursing through us are not the same anymore.

‘Fuck it, no offence but I’m not that bothered.’

‘What?’ She flares up angrily.

‘Oh you’re lovely and all that but that stuff we did on the street was better than trying to have proper sex.’

‘I’m still a woman Darren,’ she shouts.

‘Not really love,’ I shrug, ‘you’re a dead woman, a zombie, the undead, infected and diseased along with the rest of us,’ she looks appalled like I just said she was fat or something, ‘it is what it is.’ I walk out stark naked and stroll down the stairs and out into the bright sunlight.  My babies don’t show any reaction to my nakedness and I feel their devotion pour from their simple dead minds.  Bare feet will cause me injury so I make one of the zombies tug their shoes off and hand them over.  Smart black business shoes with fine laces and they fit perfectly.

‘What the fuck?’ Marcy comes out behind me wearing a towel round her body, ‘you can’t walk round like that you look ridiculous.’

‘What? Who fucking cares Marcy, this is new times and I can wear what I fucking well want.’

‘Darren, you are naked wearing office shoes,’ hands on hips she looks at me seriously.

‘They don’t care,’ I nod to the mass of undead drooling away nearby, ‘and anyone with enough mind left to notice what I’m wearing will be dead within a few minutes anyway so fuck ‘em.’

‘I’m not going anywhere with you dressed like that.’

‘Well I’m not putting anything else on, take that towel off and let the air get to your body, it feels wonderful and liberating.’

‘No way!’

‘Why not?’

‘Because they’ll see,’ she nods at the horde and clutches the towel tighter round her bosoms.

‘Marcy they don’t care, they’re just like dogs now.  They couldn’t give a fuck if we dressed as clowns.’ She looks suspiciously at the horde watching to see if they stare at her, slowly she plucks the corner of the towel out and lets the garment fall to the ground.

‘See, are any of them perving over you?’ I stare round at the horde who have shown no reaction whatsoever to Marcy standing there in the buff.

‘Big boy is staring,’ Marcy looks at the hulking teenage zombie staring at her with utter awe.

‘He always stares at you anyway, he’s got a thing for motherly types so let him have a thrill.’

‘Motherly types? I’m not that fucking old!’

‘No I mean you turned him and stroked his face when he went under and came back so he probably sees you like a mother figure, like he did with his step-mum.’

‘He was having sex with his step-mum,’ she replies coldly.

‘Well yeah… fuck it, I know what I mean.’

‘I think he’s getting an erection Darren,’ Marcy watches the bulge grow in the groin of the roided zombie man child.

‘So he is, dirty fucker.’

‘At least he finds me attractive,’ she mutters.

‘I find you attractive, very attractive.’

‘He shows it,’ she points at the now stiffened tent peg straining against his stained jogging bottoms.

‘Well go and fuck him then,’ I say exasperated.

‘Maybe I will,’ she retorts quickly.

‘Do that and I’ll cut his dick off and stuff it down his throat.’

‘Oh so you can get jealous then?’

‘I’m the super zombie so he can look all he wants but he doesn’t get to touch what’s mine.’

‘Yours?’ She asks archly.

‘Mine Marcy,’ I stare at her defiant eyes.

‘Ours,’ she hisses at me.

‘Mine,’ I growl back.

‘Ours Darren, you’d be fucking dead by now if it wasn’t for me, you’d have charged after them and blundered about getting killed and ruining everything.  It was my idea to turn this lot, my idea,’ her voice screams out making the veins in her neck bulge out.

‘I meant you’re mine not them,’ I wave my arm at the horde all standing there patiently, ‘they’re ours but you’re mine.’

‘Oh I thought you meant they’re yours,’ she calms instantly.

‘No you’re mine they’re ours.’

‘You just said that.’

‘I’m saying it again.’

‘Well I’m glad we got that cleared up now can we please get on, we’ve still got a lot left to do.’

‘Like what,’ I ask confused as hell.

‘We need more bodies,’ she says as though talking to a simpleton.

‘We’ve got loads,’ turning round I make a point of looking at the horde crammed into the front garden and backed up in the street all across the road.  Most of them have been turned by me or Marcy but others are zombies that were already here and have tagged along for the ride.

‘We should get more,’ she says stiffly crossing her arms.

‘Oh Marcy can’t we just go and get Howie now?’

‘No Darren, we’re doing it properly this time.  There will be time for playing later but we’re going to keep going until it I think we have enough.’

‘Oh fucking hell! That’ll take ages...’

‘Stop your whining and get on with it,’ still naked she strides past me through the gate and into the road, ‘and put some bloody trousers on.’

Five

‘We thought it was you but we had to be sure,’ the balding man says, the second man has pulled his balaclava off to reveal a hard face topped with thick brown hair.  We’re standing round with weapons held down at our sides, still not confident enough to put them away just yet and I can sense Dave and Clarence keeping a discrete distance.

‘Howie, good to meet you,’ I extend my hand out to the balding man who swaps the gun over to free his right hand up.

‘Dean, that’s my café behind you, your group are with us safe and sound,’ he shakes hands firmly and steps back to look round at us, finally settling his gaze on Lani, ‘you’re a local aren’t you,’ he asks with a puzzled expression.

‘She is, we met her down the road,’ I reply quickly, ‘where are our group? Can we see them?’

‘They’re downstairs in the bunkers, we’ll take you down…has anyone followed you?’

‘No,’ Dave says firmly staring hard at Dean.

‘Let’s get under cover quickly, follow me,’ Dean turns to head back towards the recessed door he appeared from.

‘Before we go, what are they doing there?’ I point towards the tennis courts.

‘I’ll tell you once we’re inside, not here,’ Dean replies moving back towards the door.

‘I’d rather know now mate,’ the others take their lead from me and remain still.

‘It’s not safe out here, we should get undercover,’ Dean says quickly.

‘No offence mate but we don’t know you or what’s in there,’ I feel the tension rising again and although Dave hasn’t moved an inch I can tell he’s poised to react.

‘I understand, Mike go and get someone from his group and bring them up,’ Dean turns back to me then glances at the tennis courts, ‘we’re trying to see how long they survive without food or water.’

‘And?’ I ask.

‘Some of them have been in there since the first night it happened,’ he replies.

‘What about the dead ones? What happened to them?’

‘Some died on their own and we chucked in another few bodies to see if they would eat their own or what would happen. But they haven’t touched the corpses.  We put cups of water in there and they ignored them, then we chucked fresh and rotten animal meat in but they ignored that too.’

‘Do they change at night?’ Clarence asks.

‘They howl like the rest of them, and then get faster and meaner chucking themselves at the fence.  We put a guard out to make sure they don’t break the fence down.’

‘Howie!’ Sarah comes running out of the door straight into my arms.  The shock hits me hard and I hug her fiercely feeling tears stinging my eyes.

‘Sarah, oh thank god,’ I hear the others crowding in, she breaks free and hugs them each in turn and even Dave doesn’t object to the physical contact.  Finally she grabs Clarence and throws her arms round his huge chest.  He blushes bright red but returns the embrace lifting her clean off her feet in a giant bear hug.

‘Oh Howie,’ she says again when Clarence finally releases her, ‘we thought you’d be gone, we thought all of you would be gone,’ tears spill from her eyes as we hug again.  ‘What happened at the end? Where’s Tucker and the others?’ She looks round and see’s the desperately sad looks of the lads.

‘They didn’t make it,’ I shake my head and feel tears falling down my own cheeks, looking over I see Blowers and Cookey have also gone red eyed and silent.

‘Howie! Dave! Thank god for that,’ Ted comes striding out of the door and clasps my hand with both of his.

‘Ted, oh it’s good to see you mate,’ I smile with genuine pleasure and shake his hand vigorously, ‘come here you bloody hero,’ Ted gives me a brief hug before breaking free to greet each of us in turn, shaking hands and seeing the tears falling from all of us.  Lani stares bemused at the emotive re-union.  Within seconds more of our group are pouring from the door, Sergeant Hopewell, Tom and Steven, Terri and more faces we last saw in the fort when they were running for their lives out of the rear gate.

I catch a quick glimpse of Dean standing there shrugging at his mate, both of them look worried and I know we should do as they ask but seeing our group takes over anything else.

Blowers, Cookey and Nick get treated like the hero’s they are, and I watch them crying with bitter sweet sorrow, relief, happiness heart wrenching sadness as we’re all bombarded with people asking who survived, women and children demanding to know if their husbands, fathers or brothers lived or died.  To this group we are the returning heroes who survived something that none of us expected to walk away from.  The horror and desperation we faced on that battle field we faced for them, so they would live and have a chance of freedom.  They know this and the strain they must have been under since they left is huge, and to see us now brings those emotions out in all of us.

Sobbing and crying I try desperately to answer people as they ask about their loved ones but I simply didn’t know the names of all of the men we fought alongside.  There wasn’t time to learn them.  In the end Sergeant Hopewell and Ted assert their natural authority and start herding them back inside the door.  As the crowd grows thinner a few of us are left standing close together, tears drying and I see Sarah hugging a crying Clarence as he tells her about the loss of Malcolm.  Blowers, Cookey and Nick are all being patted and hugged as they talk of Tucker, Curtis and Jamie laying down their lives while Steven, Tom, Terri and Jane all listen intently.

‘You made it then,’ Ted says with fatherly pride to me.

‘Just about, it was awful Ted,’ I shake my head at the memory, ‘we lost so many, so many, I don’t know how to tell them,’ I motion towards the backs of the women and children filing back into the doorway.

‘They’re expecting it,’ Ted says bluntly, ‘we didn’t expect to see any of you again.’

‘Er, I’m sorry but I really would prefer it if we got back inside,’ Dean comes forward speaking politely.

‘Of course mate, I’m so sorry.’

‘No we understand we’ve heard all about you and what happened over there but we’ve kept this place pretty clear up till now and we’d rather keep it that way.’

‘Come through Howie, you’ll be amazed at this place,’ Ted starts ushering the others inside and I wait at the back to go through with Dave.

‘That was intense,’ I mutter quietly to him.

‘Good to see them all again though Mr Howie,’ Dave gives a rare smile, ‘your sister looks well.’

‘They’ve obviously been well looked after.’

‘Come through,’ Dean stands a few feet into the recessed area holding a thick barred gate open and motioning us to enter.  We do as we’re told and enter a long tunnel.  Dean pulls the gate closed and fastens thick bolts home on the inside then big padlocks at the top and bottom.  Finally he steps in and then closes a thick wooden door sealing in darkness, a torch lights up within a few seconds and we watch him ramming more bolts home before squeezing past us and leading the way through the dark tunnel.

‘The battery was built back in the 1850’s but then during the world war’s they added more tunnels and bunkers.  They used it for all sorts of secret testing back in the day, before the council closed most of them up and said they’d all fallen in or collapsed.  We broke through when this happened and found nearly all of them were perfectly fine.  There’s a whole network of tunnels connecting rooms and bunkers.  We’ve managed to get loads of food and bottled water down here.’

‘Thank you for taking our group in Dean,’ the air is musty but it feels much cooler down here and I realise the winding tunnel is going downhill and getting a bit steeper every few metres.

‘We didn’t have much choice if I’m honest, they turned up making a whole load of noise and that Sergeant woman and your sister promised they would only stay for a few days…we couldn’t just leave them out there to die,’ Dean shrugs as he walks ahead of us.  The dark tunnel turns to the right and opens into a large room illuminated by the glow of many candles and lanterns.  The room is sectioned off with distinct bundles of bedding and clothing marking out separate sleeping areas.  A cacophony of voices reaches us from the many women either sitting or standing around talking.  Some children run about in excitement and others sit in forlorn shock looking pale and drawn.  Faces turn to stare as we file through following Dean and the others ahead of him.  Doors lead off to more rooms crammed with people sitting, lying or standing about quietly talking.

We follow Dean through more tunnels, these ones lit by hanging gas lanterns or strings of fairy lights strung up and connected to car batteries.  We enter another large room again filled with women and children, and pass more, smaller rooms these ones clearly filled with local people who have had time to gather belongings from home or other places, bedding and soft furnishings, pictures of loved ones, shelves of books and children’s toys.  There are more men here and it’s clear the best rooms have been reserved for the locals who got here first.

Dean shows us to a large central room stocked with tinned food and bottled water. A guard armed with a shotgun sits on a chair reading an old newspaper, he nods amiably as we pass into yet more rooms filled with food, water, cans of beer and spirits.

‘We’ve been out foraging and bringing supplies in every day.  We’ve avoided this town and gone into the villages to raid houses, pubs, shops and anything else we can find.  There’s a fresh water supply in here too, drawn from somewhere deep underground.  We use that mainly and keep the bottles in case it runs dry or something.  We’ve got a few nurses and a vet but no doctor yet, but we did manage to get into a couple of pharmacies and doctors surgeries and empty the shelves so we’ve got medicines, anti-biotics and penicillin.  Bandages are boiled and sterilised then re-sealed and we allow body washes every few days on a rotation basis.’

‘How many have you got down here?’ I ask amazed at the effort that’s already gone into setting all this up.

‘We had a couple of hundred before your lot arrived so now we’re bursting,’ he stops and looks back at me seriously, ‘will you be able to take them away today or tomorrow?’

‘Definitely mate, as soon as we can get them back to the boats and the tide is right.’

‘We don’t mind having them and we’ve got enough food and water but, well you know how it is,’ his voice trails off diplomatically.

‘I can imagine Dean, you’ve got a good set up here and why should you take in strangers.’

‘Sounds harsh and I apologise for that but survival is just that…survival.’  Through more tunnels and we reach another large room, this one clearly used by Dean and his family or closest friends.  A large table and chairs in the middle and more doors running round the edge of the room, most of them closed but the few open reveal beds, easy chairs, and stacks of food and water.  Sergeant Hopewell and the others are all standing in the main middle room waiting as Dave and I file in.  One side of the table is reserved for Dave, Clarence me and the lads.  We all sit down as trays of hot coffee are brought out from one of the rooms and placed on the table.  Dean and a few members of his black clad group take seats opposite us, everyone else either grabs a free chair or leans against the walls.  More people emerge until the room is nearly full with everyone waiting for our account.  I see Lani  watching us and I give her a smile and a nod, she must know some of the people down here already but I can see she’s positioned herself so she’s close to the lads sitting at the end of the table.

A silence descends after we’ve grabbed coffee mugs and taken a few sips, added sugar and stirred them round.  The room feels hot and muggy with so many people crammed together and breathing in the confined area.  Expectant faces stare at me, people want the full story and not just the snatched bits they got outside.

Taking a deep breath I start to relay the account from when they left the fort, the battle, the fighting and who I knew we lost, who survived, all the rows of injured people stacked up inside the fort when we came back through.  I tell them how Darren escaped and how we figured they’d come here then how we saw Darren last night and the fight in the hotel.  Clarence jumps in a few times when he senses me going quiet and trying to get my thoughts in order, Blowers too adds bits here and there.  We explain the whole thing until we met Lani and started working our way along to here.  At the mention of Lani’s name everyone turns to stare at her, she goes poker faced and nods once in greeting before staring out with the same expressionless face I’ve seen on Dave so many times.

‘So you think they’re massing now?’ Dean asks leaning forward.

‘Yes,’ Dave answers in his flat voice, ‘he will be turning as many as he can before it gets to night then he’ll come for us.’

‘How will he know where you are?’ Dean asks.

‘He must have access to local knowledge by now,’ Dave answers, he leans forward to stare at Dean, ‘I think from the way he controlled all of his people before, he must be able to get in their heads or something, and if he finds those things you’ve got in the tennis courts he’ll know you’re here.’

‘He can try all he wants, this place is locked up tight,’ Dean answers confidently, more of his group nod in agreement.

‘What about you?’ I ask, ‘how come you’re dressed like that?’

‘Believe it or not,’ he smiles, ‘I ran a zombie event in the park every year, Park of The Dead we called it, we got loads of people dressed up and took customers round on a sort of themed walk.  We had uniformed soldiers as part of the show,’ he shrugs with a sheepish smile, ‘we figured we might as well put them to use.’

‘Bloody hell mate, talk about reality and fantasy merging.’

‘Yeah something like that,’ he laughs in good humour.

‘What weapons do you have?’ Dave asks and I almost chuckle at the scripted way he thinks.  Fortification, defence, weapons, food fluid and rest.

‘Shotguns rifles and loads of ammunition, that’s it.’

‘Er…if this Darren is gathering loads of them zombie things to come here for them,’ one of the women cuts in from behind Dean, ‘why are we letting them stay here? I don’t mean to be rude but they’re putting everyone else at risk.’

‘That’s a good point,’ Dean turns to me, ‘if you go now we might be able to survive without being found.’

‘True…’

‘Won’t happen,’ Dave cuts in, ‘Darren is here now, even if we wait outside so he can eat us alive, he won’t stop at that.’

‘But if it’s you he wants,’ the woman asks in a blunt tone.

‘It is,’ Dave replies, ‘until he gets us then what? What do you think he will do then?’

‘But you being here is putting us at risk,’ the woman’s voice rises and several of her group nod in agreement.

‘It’s late afternoon now, the tide was in this morning so I’m guessing it’s out now.  We have to wait until it comes back in before we can get the boats out.  There’s nothing we can do until then,’ I try to explain politely, I can see her point and if I was in her place I would be thinking exactly the same.

‘It’ll be getting dark by the time the tide comes back in, and by that time he’ll have every fucking zombie here trying to get in, Dean do something,’ she shouts.

‘What? I can’t just kick them out, you heard what he said…the tides out so they can’t use the boats and we can’t leave them outside until night.’

‘And what about when they get here?’ Another voice shouts from the back, ‘what then?’ More voices join in with both sides arguing amongst themselves.

‘QUIET,’ Dean bangs on the table a few times until the shouting dies down, ‘I’m sorry Howie but they’re right, if you stay here and we get surrounded then we can’t get in or out until they either go away or die…and judging by the ones in the tennis court they’ll last a long time. It puts us all at risk.’  Silence descends again and the tension rises, it seems clear to me what we have to do.  I look at Dave who nods in agreement then down the row at Clarence, Nick, Blowers and Cookey.  They can see it too, what needs to be done and they nod back at me.

‘Then we’ll go and meet them,’ I say to a stunned room.  Leaning forward I look Dean in the eye, ‘we’ll go and meet them before they get here but you promise me that you’ll get our people to their boats as soon as it’s safe.’

‘Howie no!’ Sarah shouts in shock, more voices join in but we sit there resolute knowing there is no other choice.  We’ve come this far to protect them, why fail now.

‘Are you serious?’ Dean asks with a puzzled look.

‘Yes mate, we’ll go out and head them off.  If we can find somewhere defensible and get them round us then like you said there’s no reason for them to come here and find you.’

‘That’s suicide Howie,’ Ted shouts angrily.

‘We can draw them inland,’ Clarence’s deep voice rumbles through the melee of noise, ‘if we lure them away from here and keep them busy for a few hours then it gives Dean a chance to get everyone to the boats in the morning.’

‘Sounds good to me mate,’ I nod back, ‘lads?’ I look down knowing what they’ll say but a twisted part of me wants this lot to see just how brave these lads are, and what the word sacrifice really means.

‘I’m in Mr Howie,’ Nick says with a smile.

‘Don’t even need to ask Mr Howie,’ Cookey gives a big grin then takes a nonchalant glance round the room.

‘It’ll give us a chance to fuck Darren up too,’ Blowers adds with a nod.

‘Dave?’ I stare at Dean and look along the faces of the people staring back in shock and confusion.

‘Yes Mr Howie?’

‘You up for another scrap mate?’

‘Do you need to ask Mr Howie?’

‘You’re not doing that again,’ Sarah shouts in blind anger, ‘not again Howie, you did it once and that was enough.  We stay together from now on.’

‘She’s right Howie, all of you,’ Ted says firmly.

‘Er…may I say something?’ Lani suddenly speaks up, her voice strong and confident, every face turns to look at her, ‘we’ve only seen them slow in the day but fast at night right?’ She looks round getting nods from most of the room, ‘but you said Mr Howie, that they can switch quickly and get faster during the day too, right?’

‘That’s right.’

‘But you also said that they don’t appear to be able to sustain that frantic pace for long, that it weakens them and makes them easier to kill, right?’

‘Yeah,’ I nod back at her unsure of where’s she going with this.

‘And you also said this place is locked up tight, right?’ She looks at Dean who nods back.

‘So why not let them come here and go crazy all night, really get them going and get them exhausted then when daylight comes and they get slow we go out and kill them, and like you said Mr Howie, if they’re still fast then they’ll be weaker.’ Another stunned silence fills the room.

‘Why didn’t you think of that Dave?’ I ask quietly.

‘Sorry Mr Howie…it’s a good idea though,’ rare praise from Dave but Lani doesn’t know him well enough to understand the raised eyebrows from the rest of our group.

‘Very good idea, but only if Dean and his group agree, if not then we honour their decision and take the fight straight to Darren.’

‘Agreed,’ Lani says with a nod then looks round at us all staring at her, ‘sorry, I just er…’

‘Dean?’ He nods several times deep in thought staring past me, ‘let me have five minutes to see what my…er….people think,’ he hesitates on calling them his people, like he is uncomfortable with the division of entities.  Them and us, not just people but tribes distinct and diverse.

‘We’re all people,’ Sarah picks up on the mood, ‘we all have a right to life and we should work together not cast each other out, we wouldn’t do that to you if you came to our fort.’

‘She’s right,’ a man with a rich baritone voice steps forward, ‘I won’t stand by and watch you throw these people out and if they go to fight then I’ll go with them,’ he turns to address the crowd gathered behind Dean, his rich voice fills the room and he speaks like a barrister or someone used to addressing the public.  ‘We can hide in here forever but going on what we’ve heard it’s only a matter of time before they come for us.  Our children need sunlight and air, we need to plant food and think of the future, hiding down here won’t get that done.  We need to accept this has happened and make decisions that benefit all of us, and when I say all of us I mean the people that are left and not just our so called group down here.’

‘You’re wrong,’ the woman shouts, she is middle aged with a stern face, ‘we took the time and effort to make this place suitable so we have the right to be safe here.’

‘What if this place became unusable,’ Sarah cuts in quickly, ‘what would you do then? If you knew there was another safe place nearby?’

‘That’s not the point,’ the woman shouts back.

‘It’s exactly the point, the man with the baritone voice interjects, ‘if we lost this place then we’d have to go and ask for help from somewhere else and that could happen!’

‘Why put ourselves and our children at risk for people we don’t know,’ the woman shouts louder clearly annoyed at having a member of her own group turn on her.

‘But we do know them,’ the man replies, ‘they’re here and we’ve met them so we do know them.  What’s next? We start having tribal fort war’s at the same time as fighting the zombies out there.  This is utterly ridiculous.  We should be out there doing what we can to get rid of them.’

‘Don’t be so bloody stupid,’ the woman screams with blind fury, ‘are you suggesting that we go out there and hunt them down? Have you seen what they’re capable off?’

‘Howie,’ the man turns to me suddenly, ‘how many have you killed?’

‘Me personally or all of us together?’

‘Your group, how many?’

‘Bloody hell, Dave could probably tell you the actual number…er…’

‘Twelve thousand four hundred and twenty eight,’ Dave says flatly.

‘Jesus mate have you really been counting them?’ Our whole group stares at him shocked.

‘No, I made it up.  I don’t know how many,’ Dave gives a very small smile which causes Blowers, Cookey, Nick and I to burst out laughing at the exceptionally rare attempt at humour from this quiet man

‘Sorry, I don’t know but it’s got to be thousands.  We killed loads just travelling round but then we had that big fight a couple of days ago and that would have wiped out several thousand of them.’

‘More than that,’ Clarence says thoughtfully, ‘if you think about what you told us about Salisbury, then London, then our commune and the last fight…’ He trails off with both eyebrows raised.

‘Think how many the GPMG took out,’ Nick adds.

‘And those trenches we blew up,’ Cookey muses.

‘The housing estate…that must have killed a couple of thousand on its own,’ Nick rubs his chin thinking.

‘Yeah, fair one,’ I nod back and turn to look round at the people staring at me, ‘we’ve probably taken out tens of thousands then.’

‘With how many of you?’ The man asks like a friendly barrister cross examining a star witness.

‘Not that many really, we lost a few here and there but on the whole we’ve stayed remarkably intact for such a small group.  Don’t get me wrong we lost thousands during that big fight outside our fort but we killed far far more than we lost and what we’ve gained from that is a real chance of living safely for a while, and it’s not just that but we learnt how to fight them, what hurts them, when to stand our ground and when to retreat…I guess more than anything we learnt not to fear them entirely,’ I look round to see everyone hanging on my words, ‘they’re frightening and all that, truly terrifying really but they’re not the super human monsters you think they are.  You’ve seen what they’re like in the daytime from your tennis court experiment, bloody hell any one of my lot could take down a horde three or four times that size with just a knife if they stayed like that,’ I sense the lads all sitting up higher at the compliment.

‘But the real strength is having complete faith in your mates beside you,’ Clarence jumps in, his deep voice and large frame mesmerising the people watching us, ‘knowing that they’ll stand on the line and hold their courage.’

‘Bloody hell, you said you’ve loads of shotguns here,’ I look directly at Dean who nods in response, ‘they are devastating to a packed horde, form a couple of lines up and have synchronised firing, front line fires while the rear line loads and just blast them away, use the multiple exits you’ve got here to run out shoot a load and get back in, then find another door and do it again.  Darren’s only got a day so even he can’t muster that many.’

‘Thousand at the most,’ Dave adds and I wish he hadn’t because a thousand sounds like a massive number, it is a massive number and I groan inwardly as mouths start to drop open at hearing it.

‘A thousand?’ the woman asks loudly.

‘At the most,’ Dave shrugs.

‘Dean. You’ve heard what these men have said,’ the man with the rich voice picks up his thread quickly, ‘even if they do bring a thousand…or five thousand it means we can finish them off and have a chance at living in safety.’  I look at Dean who remains expressionless,  clearly thinking hard.

‘Mate, whatever you decide we’ll stand by, if you want us to go out and head them off we will on the condition that you promise to get our group to the boats as soon as possible.’

‘You’d go out against a thousand of them?’ Dean asks me seriously.

‘Yes.’

‘At night?’

‘Yes mate…have you seen Dave fight? Trust me the odds aren’t that bad.’

‘What that little thing?’ the woman’s scornful tones cut through the room as the lads all take a sharp intake of breath and I glance over to see Sarah, Ted and the officers all looking shocked.  Only Dave stays as devoid of expression as ever.

‘That little thing has probably killed more of them than the rest of us put together,’ Clarence’s voice seethes with anger, going red in the face he stands up his massive frame seeming to dominate the room.  The lads stand with him and look equally as angered, ‘that little thing is the bravest man I have ever met and I’ve been in more combat zones than you could count,’ he leans forward and presses his fists into the table which creaks under his weight, ‘and that little thing would willingly go out there alone against ten thousand if he was asked.  Excuse me…I need some air.’ He turns to find a sudden gap opening up which he strides through with Sarah hot on his heels.

‘I think we all do,’ I reply, ‘sorry to ask but have you got sentries or look outs posted?’

‘Yeah all round,’ Dean replies.

‘Good then we’re going outside to cool off and let you talk in peace,’ we turn to file out and I wait to hear someone say we can’t go outside but thankfully they seem distracted and no one yells after us.  As I walk through the first tunnel the man with the rich voice runs to catch up with me.

‘Paul,’ he extends a hand to shake, ‘I’m sorry about that but tensions are high as you can see.’

‘Nice to meet you Paul, don’t worry but that woman was getting offensive and after what we’ve been through you can’t blame the lads for reacting that way.’

‘God no, I’m amazed you stayed as cool as you did, listen we’ll have a proper chat and come and find you when it’s done.’

‘Thanks mate I appreciate that.’

‘Dean is a very decent man, he might have looked quiet back there but the man has a steel rod running through his core.’ We leave Paul in one of the big rooms to head back and speak to Dean while we thread our way through the complex of tunnels and bunkers.  Word spreads as we go through that we’re going outside and suddenly many people are heading for the doors and exits.

‘They’ve been cooped up in here since this began,’ Ted explains as we walk through the darkened tunnels.

‘Shit I’m starting to wish I hadn’t said we’re going out now, it’ll just look like we’re trying to undermine Dean.’

‘I don’t think you could stop them if you tried Howie,’ Ted replies with a smile.  We follow the crowds out through a different route to a door further back in the park, coming out into the car park and I see our inner group all standing to one side.  Some of the local guards look very unhappy at nearly all the fort’s residents suddenly pouring out for a few minutes of sunshine and fresh air.  Standing together we look over at children racing to the play area, screaming and yelling with delight while worried looking parents run after them telling them to be quiet.

‘Hey mate,’ I shout up at one bemused looking guard standing on the top of the wall, ‘we’ll go to the top where we came in and keep guard if you want.’

‘Cheers mate,’ the man smiles and gives a thumbs up before speaking into a small radio fastened to the front of his black overalls.

We file through the car park towards the entrance, looking round I see nearly our whole group here.  The officers, Sarah and Clarence, the lads and Lani, Dave and even that woman that helped Sarah in the back of the van on the way from London to the fort.  Steven and Tom both keep sneaking glances at the sawn off shotguns wedged into the backpacks of the lads and looking down at their own full length double barrelled weapons.

We find a spot on the grassy area by the pitch and putt and settle down in a wide semi-circle angled to watch the entrance path.

‘I’ll go and have a quick look up there Mr Howie,’ Dave says indicating the path.

‘I’ll come with you,’ Lani adds quickly.  Nodding at both of them I wonder why she’s chosen our group to stand by when surely this lot would have taken her in seeing as she’s a local.

‘Howie you can’t be serious at going to head them off, that was a bloody stupid thing to say,’ Sarah wastes no time in voicing her opinion.

‘What choice do we have?’

‘Plenty of choices Howie,’ Sergeant Hopewell cuts in, ‘I see where you’re coming from but you’ve already marched out to battle once and no one is expecting you to do it again.’

‘I disagree,’ Blowers interrupts, ‘if this lot don’t want us and they get all nasty then they could make life very hard for our people.  If it means they get a chance of getting back safely then we have to do it.’

‘Simon you don’t have to keep saving everyone,’ Sarah replies.

‘Simon? Who’s Simon?’ I ask confused.

‘Me, that’s my first name,’ Blowers laughs.

‘Shit, I’d forgotten you even had one.’

‘Stop changing the subject Howie,’ Sarah chides as Nick and Cookey both laugh and start ragging Blowers by calling him Simon.

‘Sarah, we’re not being heroes but if it has to be done then so be it.’

‘You lot are getting addicted to killing them that’s what it is,’ Sarah says firmly, ‘I could see it in your faces before that big fight and downstairs, it’s like a thrill to you, being all heroic and going out against thousands of them like that.’

‘No it’s not,’ Clarence cuts across her.

‘Then what is it because I don’t understand.  Surely it would be better to sit and wait it out here than risk dying again, how many chances do you need?’ She looks round first at Clarence then me and finally at the lads, ‘how many times are you going to risk your lives? Until every zombie is dead? Are you going to go out and kill all of them? Just you few?’

‘Nah, we’ll just send Dave,’ Cookey mutters.

‘Don’t be funny Alex,’ Sarah retorts quickly and I watch as Cookey sinks lower from the sudden tongue lashing, ‘right I’ll tell you what,’ she looks round at us again, ‘if you go out there then I’m coming with you.’

‘Oh hang on…’ I start to say getting cut off by protests from the others too.

‘And me,’ Terri speaks for the first time and I can see from her face that she means it.

‘Oh no just wait a minute…’

‘Me too,’ Ted looks as serious as the others.

‘All of us,’ Sergeant Hopewell joins in.

‘Can we saw our shotgun ends off too?’

‘Be quiet Steven.’

‘Sorry Sarge.’

‘For fuck’s sake,’ I say exasperated.

‘What?’ Terri asks, ‘what is it Howie? If you’re saying that it’s so important to save these women and children that you’d go out and fight another battle then why not us too?’

‘Well because…’

‘We don’t have children,’ she adds without letting me speak, ‘we’re just as capable as you at fighting and defending our group, we can shoot guns and swing axes about the same as you can.’

‘None of you are combat trained,’ Clarence replies quickly but gets shot down instantly by Sarah.

‘He’s a supermarket manager,’ she points at me, ‘and they were on their first day in the army,’ she moves her pointing hand to the lads.

‘But they’ve got experience now,’ he rumbles.

‘And how did they get that experience?’ Terri asks, ‘by being herded away and kept safe? No? By getting out there and fighting that’s bloody how.’

‘I agree,’ Lani adds in her strong confident voice, ‘I’ve only just joined and I’m sorry for interrupting,’ she adds.

‘Don’t be sorry,’ Sarah smiles up at her, ‘here sit down, I’m Sarah.’

‘But I’ve killed a few of them and I’ve already decided that if you go out there then I’m coming too.’

‘Why?’ Nick asks quickly.

‘They killed my family, they killed everyone I know so why is it just your right to get revenge?’ Lani replies looking up, proud and defiant.

‘It’s not about revenge,’ I say.

‘Yes it is,’ Sergeant Hopewell cuts in, ‘when you and Dave came to the police station that day you said you had to find your sister, but you found her Howie and now she’s safe so why keep going?’

‘Well because she needs to get back to the fort,’ I reply weakly.

‘Oh that’s big of you,’ Sarah growls at me, ‘why do I need to get back? Why am I different to everyone else here?’

‘Ah this is getting silly,’ I throw my hands up.

‘Dave what do you think?’ Sarah turns to Dave sitting quietly next to me.  He looks at me for long seconds blank faced before answering.

‘Men fight.  Always have done.  Men fight to protect their families and what they hold dear.  Men fight for all sorts of reasons but that’s just the way it is…’

‘Thank you Dave,’ I smile feeling like I’ve won the point.

‘…But so do women,’ he adds to my audible groan, ‘women fight harder than men when they need to, women can be ferocious in battle, ask Clarence.’ The big man nods reluctantly.

‘Cheers Dave,’ I groan.

‘That’s okay Mr Howie.’

‘I was being sarcastic.’

‘I know.’

‘Well I’m glad that’s cleared up then,’ Sarah smiles triumphantly and I look round to see nearly everyone grinning and Ted shaking his head with a small knowing smile.

‘You walked into that one son,’ he says.

‘Yeah I get that impression.’

‘So can we saw the ends off now?’ Steven asks hopefully.

‘Yes mate, if we all go out together then you can saw the ends off.’

‘Brill!’ He sounds delighted and gets a stern look of disapproval from the Sergeant.  Clarence and I exchange unhappy glances and he shrugs his huge shoulders like two boulders lifting up and down.

‘If nothing else it’s worth it to see that,’ Ted says after a few minutes silence.  I follow his gaze to the playground and the children running about freely.  Some of the parents join in on the monkey bars and roundabout, others stand around with a mixture of happy and worried faces.  Their laughter and giggles sound out into the quiet summer air and I can imagine this place being crammed during a normal summer day.  A ball gets kicked onto the grass and bounces over towards us and I watch Nick starting to shrug his backpack off discretely.  Cookey catches the movement and starts doing the same, both of them speeding up to beat the other one until Lani ditches her bag into the middle and sprints past them laughing.  With shouts they burst up and start sprinting for the ball as Blowers slowly stubs his cigarette out and starts taking his pack off too.  Lani reaches the ball first and kicks it back to the children just as she’s joined by Nick and Cookey.  Within seconds a game has started with items of clothing being set down as goals and the children trying to beat our group.  More children come running up as Steven and Tom both join in too, laughing and calling for the ball.

‘Looks like they need a goalie,’ Clarence surprises us all by jogging over leaving the rest of us now minding several axes, shotguns and backpacks.

‘When did you start smoking again?’ Sarah calls out as she catches me lighting one up and blowing a lazy plume of smoke out.

‘Er…today actually.’

‘It’s bad for you,’ she chides.

‘So are zombies,’ I retort quickly.  Clarence takes over in goal, squatting down to get ready for some saves until one plucky child shouts that he’s too big and the goal has to be made bigger.

‘There’s Dean,’ Dave nods past me at the approaching man accompanied by several of his group.  Getting slowly to my feet I walk a few paces forward and watch as he tells his friends to wait and walks on to speak with me alone.  Greeting me with a nod he stands watching the children play for a couple of minutes and I get the impression he’s still trying to make a final decision.

‘It would have been okay if he hadn’t mentioned there could be a thousand of them,’ he says finally.

‘I don’t know where he got that number from Dean.’

‘It is possible though isn’t it?’

‘Yeah it is,’ I sigh already knowing what the answer is.  We lock eyes for a second and I feel pleased that despite the bad news he has the decency to look me in the eye.

‘I’m sorry Howie but we put it to a vote and well…’

‘Don’t worry mate, I pretty much expected it.’

‘If it’s any consolation I voted for you to stay but they just got hung up on the thought of a thousand of those things coming this way.’

‘Yeah fair one,’ if it hadn’t been for Sarah and the others saying they’d be coming with us it wouldn’t bother me so much, but the thought of leading my sister and the rest of them into a fight like that is just awful.  Looking over I see them all staring at me and Dean and I wonder if they can work out what’s being said from our body language.

‘But we still honour the promise of getting the rest of them to the boats as soon as possible.’

‘Okay mate, I appreciate that.  Listen, there’s a few more that are coming out with us now.  Have you got any spare weapons we can take?’

‘We can spare a few shotguns and some ammunition and we’ve got a couple of other bits and pieces too.  I’ll get them ready for you.’

‘Cheers mate, no hard feelings,’ I extend my hand which he takes with a firm grasp.

‘So you’ve given him the bad news then?’ Paul says as he strides towards us, a sour expression twisting his features.

‘It’s no problem Paul, we did make the offer in the first place.’

‘I think it’s fucking terrible,’ he spits, ‘and I stand by what I said too, I will be going with you and so will a few others.’

‘Paul…’ Dean turns to the man with a worried look.

‘No Dean it’s not on, it’s just not on,’ Paul waves his hand as his voice rises, ‘it’s utterly barbaric to send these people out and let them do the dangerous work so we can stay in safety here.  You heard what they said; those fucking things will come for us no matter if these people are here or not.’

‘Paul we put it to a vote,’ Dean says patiently and I can tell he doesn’t really believe in what he’s saying.

‘Yes we did Dean, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it and I made it perfectly clear that if you chose to send them out then I would be going too.’

‘That’s your decision Paul,’ Dean sighs walking off, his shoulders slumped in defeat ‘I’ll get some weapons ready Howie.’

‘Thank you,’ with a sinking heart I wait for Dean to leave then glance over to see Clarence and Dave both staring at me.  My look tells them everything they need to know and they both nod back at me.  ‘We’d better get ready,’ I say to Paul.  Suddenly feeling there’s nothing else to say I walk away back towards my group.  Clarence, Dave and the lads walk across to intercept me.

‘We’re going out then?’ Clarence asks wiping sweat from his face.

‘Yep,’ my response is curt.

‘I don’t want them to come with us,’ he growls with quiet intensity, ‘it doesn’t feel right.

‘I agree Mr Howie,’ Nick adds quickly, ‘no offence but we’ve got this far together and we know how to fight alongside each other.’

‘Look at last night, we held fucking shit loads of them off for hours on our own,’ Cookey swears with as much intensity as Clarence.

‘I don’t like it any more than you do,’ I reply watching Sarah and the others looking at us.

‘We could get them inside and just move out quickly,’ Clarence urges, ‘get Dean or whoever to lock the doors up and not let them out.’

‘She’ll go fucking nuts,’ they all know I mean Sarah.

‘She can go nuts but at least she’ll be alive,’ Clarence says.

‘They’re coming over,’ Blowers mutters quietly.  Turning round to face them we couldn’t look guiltier if we tried and I watch Sarah’s facial expression change as she gets close enough to speak.

‘I know exactly what you’re thinking and it won’t bloody work,’ she looks at each of us in turn.

‘Dean said we can stay the night,’ Cookey tries lying but it falls instantly flat and his voice trails off as Sarah, Terri and Sergeant Hopewell fix him with a trio of hard stares.

‘Did he?’ Sergeant Hopewell asks Cookey quietly but the tone leaves no doubt of her ability to see through him.

‘No…’ Cookey mumbles looking down and we all feel the same guilt for trying to deceive them.

‘Right, so we’re going out to meet them,’ a statement not a question as Terri looks straight at me.

‘I’m not having this,’ Clarence draws himself up to his full height, plants his feet apart, folds his massive arms and inflates his chest to stare down at them.

‘Not having what?’ Sarah smiles at him sweetly, skilfully avoiding drawing a confrontation out knowing that’s what he’s trying to do.

‘Not having you coming with us,’ his voice drops to a deeper rumble.  Sarah looks up at him with a loving gaze and gives a small smile.  The big man hesitates just for a split second but it’s enough to show her he’s lost the battle of wills.

‘How do you want to do this?’ Sergeant Hopewell asks in a business-like manner.

‘Do this?’ I can feel my temper starting to fray, ‘do this? Have you any idea what you’re going into.  We’ve been fighting alongside each other solidly for nine days now and we’ve learnt to move together, to anticipate each other’s movements, we know instinctively when to press forward and when to drop back, we’ve learnt that through nine fucking days of solid fucking fighting so forgive me but it’ll be us fucking doing this. You,’ I point at them, ‘will just get in the fucking way.’ Silence for several seconds and stupidly I feel maybe I’ve gone too far and caused serious offence, still clinging onto cultural values and the strict moral codes of our society.  But even more stupidly I press on, ramming the point home, ‘I get it…we all get it okay.  We get your point that it’s not our job to save you and it’s not our job to go and die for anyone but…and please listen to this…we stand a better chance of surviving if it is just us…’

‘But…’ Terri goes to speak but a hard look from me silences her. ‘No buts Terri,’ I continue with my ranting, ‘and they still need someone to look out for them, who is going to do that if we’re all dead? What if they get off the boats on the other side and find another horde waiting for them? How are they going to get to the fort or shall we just call Chris and get him to come pick them up in his fleet of coaches?’

‘Howie,’ Sarah says softly.

‘No Sarah, if you had been fighting them for the length of time we had and if those terrified women and children had someone else to look after them then maybe it would be a good idea but you didn’t and they don’t so it’s a shit idea.’

‘How do we get experience if we don’t start fighting them Mr Howie?’ Tom asks quietly showing a rare serious side to his nature.

‘Exactly,’ Sarah glares at me, ‘and by fighting with you we’re taking away the biggest threat which is Darren, and another thing, those women are not some incapable bunch of weaklings.  They need to take responsibility for their own safety and they can fire shotguns and swing axes as well as anyone. Stop being so fucking sexist.’

‘This isn’t about being sexist; this isn’t a workplace, this isn’t some job where you can moan about equal rights or lack of fucking promotion for women.  This is about having the right people to do the task at hand and right now we,’ I wave my hand at the men standing by me, ‘are the right people to do this simply because we’ve been doing it non-stop since this thing started.’

‘And we won’t get experienced and as good as you unless we jump in and start fighting too.’ Terri yells back.

‘Listen to me and listen well,’ I step forward and can feel pure fury threatening to explode.  Every word I say comes out through gritted teeth and the rage that propelled me through so many fights and battles suddenly manifests itself making every one of them recoil, ‘this is how it is; we are going to head them off and you are going to take our people back to our fort.  Do I make myself clear? I SAID DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?’ I look to each one in turn, eyes drop away from my intense glare, feet shuffle awkwardly but the silence tells me I’ve finally got through.

‘Okay,’ Sarah finally breaks the silence with a quiet response, ‘you’re right, you’ve got us this far.’

‘We need to get our people inside.  Dave, Dean was going to get us some weapons.  Find him and tell him we don’t need them but take whatever ammunition you can find.’

‘On it,’ Dave affirms jogging away quickly with Lani running after him.

‘Nick, Cookey make sure all our bags have got water and food, Blowers and Clarence I want you two to clean our weapons and make sure they’re ready, distribute the ammunition amongst the bags once Dave brings it back.’ They break away instantly leaving me with the rest of our group standing in an awkward silence.

‘Howie I want you to take Steven and Tom with you, no hang on please let me finish,’ Sergeant Hopewell holds her hand up, ‘they’re good lads, young and fit and they’ll keep up.  You do understand that while we accept your leadership at this time I am still a Police Sergeant and therefore recognised by any form of government to take control in times of extreme incidents.  This is my decision and you will offend me greatly, and these two, if you don’t accept them into your group.  They are both trained to take orders and they will do as they are told when they are told.  The rest of us can ensure the safety of everyone else.’

‘Howie listen to the Sergeant,’ Ted adds in his fatherly tone, ‘you boys know what you’re doing out there and we accept that but these lads are itching to get stuck in and like they said, they need the experience and there’s no time like the present.’  I look at Steven and Tom, my only experiences have been of them squabbling and playing the fool but they’re the same age as Nick, Blowers and Cookey and I guess maybe there is a time to be a stubborn fool and a time to concede.

‘Okay, lads go and find Dave, get your shotguns sawn off and ask Dave to find you some hand weapons to fight with for when it starts getting nasty. Wait!’ I shout as they start running off, ‘make sure you have backpacks that the shotguns can fit into, we’ll need to be light on our feet and we cannot afford to be holding two weapons if we get caught out.’

‘Sir,’ they both shout back and start jogging off towards the doors.  I can see Terri is seething from the decision made by her Sergeant but Sarah just looks crestfallen and deeply worried.  The local guards start moving into the park ushering people back inside.  The parents respond instantly with the conception that men with guns must be making the right decisions.  Children cry with disappointment as they’re pulled and carried away from the play area.

We stroll over to the bags as Clarence and Blowers sit down quickly breaking the shotguns open and cleaning them through.  I go from bag to bag taking all the shotgun cartridges out and putting them into a pile, Sarah drops down and starts helping me in  stilted silence.

‘We don’t have enough pistols for Steven and Tom,’ I scratch my head already worrying about the smaller details that I know will keep us alive.

‘They can have mine and Dave’s,’ Clarence replies.

‘You two are the best shots with them.  It’d make more sense for me and one of the others to go without.’

‘True, but we’re also less likely to need them,’ Clarence glances up with a wicked grin breaking the tension with his barbed joke.

‘Funny bugger,’ I mutter with a quiet laugh.

‘Fuck it, I’ll take two if you’re going to argue,’ Cookey jokes, ‘I can be like Bruce Willis and dive across the ground firing both of them at the same time.’

‘And break your ribs and lie on the floor groaning like a twat,’ Blowers adds.

‘Oh you’d like me lying on the floor groaning wouldn’t you, face down by any chance?’ Cookey replies.

‘That’s what your mum said,’ Blowers laughs.

‘Don’t start on my mum.’

‘Well don’t start with the gay jokes then.’

‘I’m not…I just think it’s about time you came out the closet.’

‘Your mum wouldn’t even fit in the closet.

The lads banter, Clarence smiles and the world rolls on its gentle course as seconds pass into minutes.  Before too long the shotguns are cleaned and ready and the cartridges are re-distributed evenly throughout the bags.  The lads stand up passing cigarettes round and we enjoy a smoke in the warm summer air, while we wait for Dave to come back.

So we can move out and pick another fight with a horde of zombies.

Six

The next few hours are spent working our way further into the town, going from street to street and finding survivors everywhere.  It surprises me that these fuckwits don’t all get together and fortify one of their shitty little streets.  We’d still get through eventually but they would kill a few of us in the process and at least they would go out fighting instead of cowering under their beds covered in their own piss and shit.  These fucking pussies are just waiting to die, hiding in vain and convincing each other that help is coming and they just have to wait it out.  Slaughtering them becomes so easy that if it wasn’t for the sheer frenzied urge of ripping their flesh apart it could almost become boring, I say almost because the urge is so strong that it could never actually become mundane.  We get the tactic down to a fine art; entering the street quietly and going to the first house.  Breaking a window or simply sending a few heavy zombie bodies at it and smashing it open then I let them rip, sending them in fast and loud and after that we just have to follow the scent of fear until we root them out to finish them off screaming and wailing, begging for the lives.  But they don’t know what life is until they’ve tried this.

A strange thing happened late in the afternoon which I kept to myself.  We had entered one of the big suburban houses and I almost puked at the sight of more beige walls and cream carpets, not to mention the black and white artistically framed photographs of the occupants all dressed in black jumpers and smiling unnaturally.  I even saw a picture of a pebble, an actual photograph of a fucking pebble on a beach.  Further down the hallway I saw another framed picture of the same pebble but this time it was on a picnic table, then another with the pebble poised artfully next to a stream.  What fucking moron took a pebble with them and took pictures of it in different scenes? Fucking arseholes.  We found the occupants hiding as normal in the upstairs bedroom.  And as normal the mother took a flying charge with a big knife but she got dispatched quickly by Marcy.  She was quite fit and attractive and I stood there for a couple of minutes watching her bleed out while Marcy and some of our babies went into the room to finish the screaming brats off.  While I was standing there I heard a whimpering coming from another door, following the sound I found an adult male with a thick bushy dark beard hiding behind the shower curtain in the bathroom.

As I pulled the curtain back he pissed himself with fear making me shake my head at his lack of bravery.  I told him to kneel down which he did willingly, now if a deranged naked zombie walked into my bathroom and told me to kneel down I’d be telling him to fuck off and throwing everything in sight at his zombie face, but this pussy just complied weakly and knelt down in the bathtub crying his eyes out.

‘I’m going to bite you to death,’ I said to him but he just stayed there whimpering, ‘I’m going to bend down and sink my teeth into your neck and my infection will enter your bloodstream, you will die and a couple of minutes later you’ll come back and be one of them stupid twats running around and drooling.’

He still didn’t react so I took it slow, bending over and nuzzling his exposed neck with my teeth.  The fucker actually craned his head so I could get easier access which just annoyed me so I finished him off quickly with a big bite and watched with interest as he bled out spraying crimson all over the white tiles, like something from a Hitchcock film.  With the same detached interest I stood there waiting for him to come back.  Eventually he started twitching and convulsing until his eyes opened all red and bloodshot.  The funny thing was that I didn’t feel a connection to him, there was nothing.  I probed and concentrated but he just didn’t exist in my mind.

‘Wow, this feels strange,’ he said in a very normal way.

‘You can talk?’ I asked him.

‘It would appear so,’ he replied and started shuffling round from his slumped position in the bathtub.

‘Is that all my blood?’ He asked with interest pointing at the blood dripping down the walls.

‘Yes, how can you talk?’

‘How on earth should I know, can’t they all talk?’

‘No.’

‘Well you appear to be talking well enough.’

‘That’s because I’m special.’

‘That woman can talk too, I heard you both.’

‘She’s special too.’

‘Well I guess I must be special too then, here give me a hand.’ I didn’t like the way he said it as he stretched his arm out.  He looked intelligent and cultured, refined and intellectual.

‘Well don’t just stand there my boy, help me out.’

‘My boy?’

‘I am decidedly older than you so my use of the phrase “my boy” is inherently one of the deepest respect young man so please don’t just stand there, this blood is very slippery.’ I stood there watching him slip and slide with growing frustration until he eventually got a grip and stood up properly.  He then stepped out of the bath and stood in front of me, examining my face and looking down at my naked body with a slight sneer.

‘Why are you naked?’

‘Why not?’

‘Don’t be surly, I asked you a question.’

‘You shouldn’t speak to me like that.’

‘And why not?’

‘Because I’m in charge.’

‘Well we shall see about that young man, now I am very hungry and I want you to show me how all this works.’

‘Darren who are you talking to?’ Marcy called out from behind the bathroom door.

‘Just myself, chattering away to myself…’ She pushed the door open and walked in to see me standing over the now properly dead man pulling the toothbrush out of his eye socket where I had slammed it in through to the brain.

‘What happened to him?’

‘Oh he got a bit chopsy so I had to finish him off properly…’

‘He’s not coming back then?’

‘Er…no my love, not this one.’

‘Oh well, missing one won’t hurt, here I found these for you.’ She hands me a pair of blue jeans and in my shocked state of having found not only a talking zombie, but one that clearly wanted to usurp me, take Marcy for himself and rule my babies, I took the jeans with just a smile and a nod.

‘Are you okay?’ She looked at me quizzically.

‘Yep, fine….I’ll er…get these on then shall I?’ She watched me slip the shoes off and slide the jeans over my legs before bending to put the black office shoes back on.  She coughed once and I looked up to see her holding a pair of brown desert boots in her hand.

‘You can’t wear jeans with office shoes.’

‘Why not?’

‘They don’t go, you’d look awful.’

‘Does it matter?’

‘Yes it matters now put these on. I won’t be seen dead with you dressed like that.’

‘But you are dead…we both are.’

‘That’s not the point and don’t be surly.’

‘That’s what he said…’

‘What?’

‘Nothing, pass them here then.’ The boots get pulled on and I start doing the laces up to the top of the high eyelets.

‘No, leave them a bit loose so the jeans tuck into the boots slightly…here like this,’ she bent down and fidgeted with them for a few seconds and seeing as she was naked I got a cracking good view of her cherry shaped arse sticking out, ‘like that, wow you look good…no you really look good like that with your top off.’

‘I feel stupid.’

‘No you look so sexy, all rough and nasty,’ she purred coming in close to run her hands over my chest. ‘Oh you nasty zombie….coming to bite my neck and do bad things to me.’ She craned her head back exposing her neck which reminded me off the chatty beardy man at my feet with a bright pink toothbrush sticking out his eye.  Even so, the sight of her neck set something off in me and I bit down, not hard but enough to draw a little blood which got her going straight away, digging her nails into my back and raking down hard enough to rip the flesh open.

The same erotic feeling I had when she first turned flooded through me and I gripped her harder, licking at the blood dripping down her neck.  She in turn bit me on the shoulder and started probing her hot tongue into the wound, licking at the salty infected blood and sucking away.  My hands groped round to her butt. My fingers brushing over the dried scab on the congealed wound.  I started picking away at it, gently at first then harder and harder, prising the dried claret away and exposing the still unhealed flesh beneath.  Groaning in ecstasy she bit me again which set me off more.

Then she got inventive and unbuckled my jeans to pull them down round my ankles, she pushed me down onto the toilet seat and straddled me, impaling herself on my now hardened dead member.  With continual biting, tearing and ripping of each other’s flesh we made love on a dirty toilet seat in a stranger’s house with a dead zombie watching us with one eye and a toothbrush sticking out his skull, not to mention the several members of our horde standing patiently on the landing drooling away while watching our noisy love making.

Now, outside and wearing my stupid jeans tucked into the tops of the stupid boots and feeling like some stupid zombie catalogue poser I’m looking back down the street and examining the densely packed undead babies all staring forward at me and Marcy.  The whole of the street is crammed with them, from one side to the other and back as far as I can see there are dead faces drooling and staring with red bloodshot eyes.  The connection is strong and I suddenly stride forward marching at them.  They obey to the will of my mind instantly and scuttle back to form a narrow path down the middle.  Within a couple of seconds they are standing to attention in neat lines, perfectly spaced and staring dead ahead like the lovely little soldiers they are.  Marcy and I walk down the middle, examining them and noting the ones with the worse injuries.

‘They can go in the first wave; we’ll keep the stronger ones back,’ Marcy says and I send the instruction out through the hundreds of strands of telepathic connectors that entwine us all.  Instructing and marking them as first group or second.

‘Actually,’ Marcy pauses, ‘we’ll do it in stages and send in the most injured first, then the next lot with not so bad injuries, then the ones with slight injuries and the strongest healthiest and freshest we’ll keep with us until the end.  No point in wasting the good ones at the start…we’ll let the weaker ones break down their defences and learn where the weak links are.’

‘But I’ve already started telling them to go in two stages.’

‘Then we’ll go back to the beginning and start again,’ she smiles about turns and starts wiggling her naked behind back to the end of the line.  Grumbling and muttering to myself I follow her and watch as she starts examining them again but closer this time.

‘Can you make them present their injuries so we don’t have to keep looking for them?’

‘For fuck’s sake this is fucking stupid the poor cunts shouldn’t have to stand there parading their wounds.’

‘Darren, just do it please,’ she snaps.  The zombies are a sudden hive of activity as they shuffle and twist round, bending, kneeling, lifting tops up or dropping trousers to show their cuts, bites, lacerations and gouges.

‘That’s better, thank you…now how about we number them into groups, say four groups? I’ll give them a number and you tell them what group they’re in.’

‘This isn’t a fucking school sports day Marcy.’

‘Are the men and women of the same strength and ferocity?’ She ignores my sarcasm.

‘Yep pretty much, the bigger ones move a bit slower but obviously their extra weight helps them at the end.  Also, moving them too fast in the daytime weakens them.’

‘By how much?’

‘It depends; if they’ve been dead a while then they’ll weaken faster because of the rate of decomposition they’ve already suffered.  The fresher ones should last longer…’

‘We shall move them at a steady pace and keep them conserved until we need them to start shifting, right I’ll count out and you tell them what group they’re in.

‘This is fucking stupid…why don’t we just go now and rip Howie’s fucking face off, we’ve got loads and most of them are fresh.’

‘Did that work the last time Darren? No…so please just do as I ask.’

‘Fine!’

‘One…Four…Three…Four…’

‘Slow down, I can’t keep up.’

‘Darren this isn’t rocket science …’

‘Just slow down.’

‘Where did you get to?’

‘I don’t know, start again.’

‘Darren!’

‘Sorry love but you went too fast, just do it slower.’

‘One….got it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Four…got it?’

‘Don’t take the piss.’

‘Well apparently you couldn’t keep up a minute ago…’

‘Just fucking count them out,’ I shout in anger, she flashes a mean look at me before turning away dramatically and reeling the numbers off.  Following behind her I send the messages as we go and let them stand easy once they’ve been checked and counted.  The poor things shuffle and relax behind us as we work our way down the long lines with Marcy examining wounds like some field doctor and shouting numbers out.

‘Ooh, what about this one?’ She asks after a few minutes.

‘He’s only got one arm Marcy.’

‘Yeah I know but he looks strong and healthy though.’

‘Yeah for a one armed zombie…’

‘We’ll put him in the third group…I think he’ll do well.’

‘The third? Are you joking? He needs to go in one or two.’

‘But look at the muscles in his good arm.’

‘What do you mean his good arm? He doesn’t have a good arm, he has one arm.’

‘Stop being pedantic Darren, three please.’

‘Okay,’ telepathically I tell him he’s a two and hope Marcy doesn’t notice later, I’ll just blame it on the confusion of battle.

We keep going down the lines, reaching a junction and sweeping round to the left and even I’m surprised at how many we’ve taken in just one day.  Standing on the junction I look up then off to the left and the sheer sight of the hundreds and hundreds of zombies makes me grin like the demented super zombie I am.  Fuck you Dave you cuntrunt, try swinging your penknives at this lot and see where it gets you.  Mind you he is good though, the nasty little prick is too good really.  I fucking hate the way he leaps about like some fucked up ballet dancer.  What fucking right has he got to be that good, it isn’t fucking fair that he’s on their side, why can’t we have a Dave on our side.  Fuck it, I’ll just send all of them after Dave and get him turned.  Ha, Howie would be royally fucked up the arse then if we sent zombie Dave after him.  But then Dave would see it coming and probably stab himself in the brain to make sure he wouldn’t come back.  Fucking stupid cuntrunt stabbing himself in the brain, that’s not fucking fair, it’s fucking cheating is what it is.

‘Darren!’

‘What?’

‘You’re ranting…’

‘Oh am I? Sorry, just thinking about Dave stabbing himself in the brain.’

‘What? Why would he do that?’

‘Because he’s a prize cunt is why, it’s the sort of stupid cheating fucked up thing he would do, just so he wouldn’t have to go after his fucking limp wristed cock sucking boyfriend Howie.’

‘Darren!’

‘What?’

‘You’re ranting again, can we just get on with it…and don’t be homophobic.’

‘What!?’

‘I don’t like it, my brother was gay.’

‘Marcy if you saw your brother standing there now you would eat his brains.’

‘That’s not the point, don’t use gay things in your ranting.’

‘How about racism? Can I use that?’

‘No!’

‘Oh so just generalised non-specific abusive ranting then?’

‘Four…Two…Two…One…’ She presses on before I start off on one again.

‘How about people with learning difficulties? Can I take the piss out of them?’

‘No…my cousin was in a wheelchair…Three….Two….Four…’

‘That’s disabled not learning difficulties.’

‘Well he was a bit retarded too…Three…One…One.’

‘You can’t say retarded anymore.’

‘What? Who said so?’

‘If I can’t call Howie a gay cunt then you can’t call people retards.’

‘Fine…One…One…One…there’s a lot of ones here.’

‘There not ours Marcy, they were already turned and I’ve got no connection to them.’

‘Oh that’s a shame, he wasn’t really retarded he was just a bit thick really…Three...Two…’

‘If you saw a person with learning difficulties would you bite them?’

‘Darren we have spent the day slaughtering every living person we’ve come across and a few of them did have learning difficulties.’

‘Did they? I didn’t notice any.’

‘They were killed before you got there; you just sucked on them a bit.’

‘…I didn’t notice any difference in the taste.’

‘One…Three…Three…Two…’

Seven

We head back down the narrow path, trudging through the shaded trees and back out beside the high wall that looks out along the sweep of the bay towards the town.  Clarence, Dave, Blowers, Nick, Cookey and I along with Steven and Tom.  Leaving was hard on all of us, not just our group but the people left behind. Again.  We had more arguments from Sarah and Terri which at one point threatened to spiral out of control until Ted and Sergeant Hopewell stepped in using their vast policing experience to calm everyone down.  Thankfully Steven and Tom had the sense to stay quiet and not get drawn in, I think they were worried that if they got involved they could end up staying and miss the opportunity to come with us.

Personally, if I was in their shoes I would have jumped at the chance of staying in the relative safety of the bunkers while some crazy idiots went off to charge a load of frenzied undead, especially with nightfall only a couple of hours away.  But then that’s wrong because I could stay there if I wanted to.  Any of us could.  We could easily argue that we’ve done enough and just refuse to leave.  I’m not sure that if it came to it we would be forced out at gunpoint, we have weapons too and everyone in there could see we’re experienced with them.  So no, I wouldn’t have stayed if I was in their shoes.  I haven’t “stayed” since this thing began.  Some of Sarah’s words resonate through my mind as we walk in silence.  She said again that we’re getting addicted to it, that the killing is something we enjoy instead of it being a necessity only to be done when absolutely necessary.  I could tell that comment made us all feel a little uncomfortable and maybe there is some truth in it.  If we thought it through and really contemplated it seriously we could probably come up with another way of leaving without having to fight.  We could have considered taking our group further along the coast until we found another harbour with boats.  This Island must have loads of harbours.  With the retired navy captain with us we could have probably made our way to one of the commercial ports that the tourist ferries use and taken everyone away together.

So why choose this option then?  Glancing round I can see that all of us, apart from Steven and Tom, have serious intent expressions.  We know what is coming and how truly awful it will be.  We know that the simplest of mistakes could mean the death of us all.  No machine guns, no safety of the Saxon APC and with two new untrained and inexperienced fighters we are virtually offering ourselves as a sacrifice, Terri said as much in her final attempt at getting us to change our minds and either stay or take them with us.

But it isn’t that.  It is something else.  Our race has been challenged and as a result we have seen our families, friends and comrades die horrible, brutal and violent deaths.  Something in us will simply not accept that.  It’s wrong and it has to be challenged because the consequences are simply too utterly terrifying to contemplate.  Bad things happen when good people stand by and do nothing.  Darren was one of us and it’s almost as though he chose to be on their side.  He could have gone off somewhere else and been a zombie.  He didn’t have to come after us the way he did and he wilfully took the lives of our loved ones.  Sarah is close when she says it’s an addiction we’ve got used to.  It isn’t that, it’s the chance to take back what is ours by right of virtue.  It’s the chance to make a decision as free men and see it through.  To show them we will not cower and hide.  And maybe a small part of it is the prospect of battle, standing in line next to your mate and culling the evil spawn of the devil sent at us.  Virtuous.  Glorious.  Righteous.

In the end it was Clarence and Dave that gave their pistols up to Tom and Steven.  Taking them aside for a few minutes and drilling them with dry firing, re-loading and more dry-firing.  Again I was surprised at how the two lads responded seriously and didn’t piss about and squabble like they do most of the time.  But then I caught Ted glaring at them and figured he’d had a quiet and most likely very threatening word with them to behave.

They look the part now with similar backpacks strapped on and sawn off shotguns wedged in so the stocks poke out.  Pistols are strapped on the police utility belts they still wear, and I notice that Tom still carries his Taser and extendable baton.  Dave even managed to find them an axe each, not as large as the ones we looted from the DIY store but more like the first one I started out with.  They just don’t look hardened like the other lads.  There is fear and nervous energy in their faces.  Not just fear of what’s coming but also that they don’t look stupid in front of the rest of us.

‘Lads listen up, if and when it starts getting horrible I want you to split up and stick with Clarence and Dave.  Keep your ears open and listen for the instructions given.  Not just from me but from all of us.  Clarence and Dave are both extremely experienced so don’t try and copy them or do what they do.  Do not over-extend or allow yourselves to get isolated or trapped.  Aim for the head and keep moving.  The shotguns have incredible fire power but the range is shit.  Remember that.’

‘What do we do if we get trapped or surrounded?’ Tom asks.

‘Fight like bastards,’ Blowers replies quickly, they both grin at the quick answer but the smiles soon vanish when they see he’s not joking.

‘Is that Lani?’ Nick cuts in pointing across to a wooden bench set against the wall where a small figure sits watching the sea, a backpack rests by her feet and a huge meat cleaver is across her lap.  She turns her head to watch us approaching; her face stays impassive and expressionless.

‘Lani,’ I nod as we gather round the bench.

‘Mr Howie,’ she nods back and stares at me defiantly.

‘Why are you out here?’

‘I’m coming with you,’ she stands quickly and starts shrugging the backpack on.

‘Still got my gun then?’ I notice the stock poking out the top of the bag.

‘Nope, I got another one.  I put yours back in your bag.’

‘Nice meat cleaver Lani,’ Nick grins genuinely pleased to see her again.

‘Lani…’

‘Mr Howie,’ she cuts me off, ‘I’m coming with you.  It’s my family out there, it’s those zombies that took my family, friends and everyone I’ve ever known or cared about.  This is my choice.  I waited here for you so it didn’t make it awkward for you in there,’ she nods back towards the fort, ‘but this is my choice, my decision.’ She reaches down to pick the meat cleaver up from the bench and stands ready and waiting.  Looking down I see she’s even found a pair of boots instead of the trainers she was wearing before.

‘Lani, please go back and wait with the others.’

‘No.  I’m coming with you.  I’ve killed a few of them and I survived for nine days on my own so I’ve earned my place.’

‘I know you did Lani but I’d still rather you waited here.’

‘Why because I’m a girl?’

‘No it’s not that.’

‘Mr Howie I’m not going back.  I respect you’re in charge and I will follow your orders exactly, I won’t slow you down or get in the way and this is the only time I’ll be rude to you but with all due respect Sir you can fuck off if you think you can make me stay.’  The way she says it, so polite yet firm makes me burst out laughing.  Not in a take the piss kind of way, and she can see I’m not patronising her.  She just won the point and she knows it, glancing round with a wry smile and a glint in her eye that reminds me of Dave.

‘Bloody hell are you two related by any chance?’ looking between them both I shake my head at the similarities.

‘No Mr Howie, I think Lani is from Thailand,’ Dave replies seriously.

‘Right well let’s get going then,’ I sigh at the sheer absurdity of it and hear Nick give an audible “Yes!” which gets quick glances from the rest of us.  With Nick looking sheepish we move out and on this ninth day we become nine. Nine bloody idiots going out to pick a fight with a dirty bunch of infected zombies.

Still, at least it’s not raining.

Eight

‘What’s it called again?’

‘Puckpool,’ she answers.

‘That’s a stupid fucking name for a place. You think that’s where they’ve gone?’

‘It’s the only place round here that could hold that many people, we’ll try there first,’ she says and having clearly made the decision of where we’re going she strides on.  Marcy also decided that it wasn’t appropriate to go into battle naked, I argued this by saying that it might distract some of the young lads if she comes charging at them with her boobs bouncing about all over the place.  I got a funny look for that comment and she asked me if I thought her boobs were saggy then.  I said no of course I didn’t think that but any woman’s boobs would bounce if she ran about naked.  Dressed to kill, I’m still wearing the fucking awful jeans and boots.  She noticed that I pulled the bottoms of the jeans out from the boots and refused to walk anywhere until I’d tucked them back in.  In just this one day I’ve learnt that doing what Marcy wants makes my undead life a lot easier.  She’s very bossy but then she does keep reminding me of how I screwed up before when I had tens of thousands of zombies with me, and anyone that can fuck something like that up needs to be told what to do.

I’ve never really had a girlfriend before.  In the previous life I was just a lazy twat that smoked too much dope and hung around on the streets doing fuck all.  That and playing Xbox was pretty much all I did.  Then they told me I had to join the Territorial Army to get my benefit money.  Stupid fuckers should have left me at home smoking weed and playing Call of Duty.  So I’ve never really had a girlfriend before or even that much to do with women so I don’t know if they’re all this bossy and demanding.  But she’s very pretty and she seems to know what she’s doing so it’s easier to just go along with it, and a super zombie should have a good woman with him.

Finally she was ready after pissing about making sure her clothes were right and her hair was brushed and the blood was washed from her face. Then she put a little bit of make up on while me and the horde stood about making small talk.  Well I made small talk and they just listened mostly, with the odd sympathetic groan here and there.  When she came out of the house she was using I had my babies doing some warm up exercises, stretching their arms back and forth and a bit of light jogging on the spot.  They were already formed up in their four groups so the ones nearest to me were the worst of the bunch with ragged injuries and limbs half hanging off.  The ones that hadn’t been turned by me were just standing there staring dumbly with drool pouring out of their mouths.

Marcy led us through the streets, going pretty much back the way we came, all the better to admire the trail of destruction we’d left behind us.  Doors hanging open, windows smashed in, blood smears and trails everywhere and the odd corpse of those that had been too heavily injured or eaten by the horde.  As we neared the seafront I could smell the blazing buildings long before they came into sight and turning the last corner before the esplanade I looked back with sheer joy at the huge roaring fire spread along the whole row of buildings from the hotel through to the last house.  Long orange flames licked up at the sky as thick black clouds rolled and boiled around them

Now with the blaze behind us we set off on the road parallel to the sweeping bay, heading towards Howie and his little piggy fucktards.

Nine

‘Lani, once we make contact we need to lead them inland and away from here,’ I drop back a few steps with Dave and Clarence to speak with our local expert.

‘We need somewhere we can use for the night,’ Clarence adds, ‘somewhere defensible.’

‘What like a house or something?’ Lani asks.

‘Too many points of entry in a house,’ Dave says, ‘we want to funnel them so they can’t all attack at the same time.’

‘But with an escape route in case we have to give ground,’ Clarence adds.

‘You don’t want much then,’ she looks thoughtfully ahead, ‘there’s a big church at the top of the town.  It’s got a main entrance with double doors and a big porch that sticks out.’

‘A recessed door, how big is the recess?’ Dave asks.

‘I don’t know,’ she answers with a shake of her head.

‘Roughly, how many people could fit in it?’

‘About ten in a line from front to back if they were squashed up.’

‘Other doors?’ Dave probes.

‘There’s a back entrance that goes into an annexe, they use it for first aid training and that kind of thing.  There’s a door that leads from the annexe into the church but it’s really old and solid.’

‘Single or double sized?’ Dave continues.

‘Erm, it’s only a single door.’

‘What about the windows?

‘They’re glass but they’re quite high up and narrow.  It’s got a big spire that people can go up to look down at the town.’

‘That would be perfect if we had rifles instead of shotguns, are there any gunsmiths in the town?’ I ask her.

‘Any what?’ She asks.

‘Gunsmiths, shops that sell guns.’

‘No, only in the main town about ten miles away.’

‘So it’s got a main recessed entrance and the rear door, any other exits?’ I ask.

‘There might be but I only know those two.’

‘A church has thick walls and it would funnel them with a deep porch, but if there’s only two exits we could get trapped,’ Clarence says.

‘But with that tower Lani mentioned we could go up that and hold them off easily, that will only have a single access point or stairs that could be defended.  It’s a strong contender, what other places are there?’ I ask again and watch Lani as she looks out to the distance in contemplation.

‘The pier?’ She points across the bay to the long black pier jutting out into the blue water, ‘that’s long and thin with only one way up it.’

‘How wide is it?’ Dave asks.

‘Er, maybe two car widths or a bit more than that.  I know two cars can pass each other on the way up.’

‘That’s quite wide, it’ll be hard to defend but we’ll keep it in mind.  I think we should aim for the church unless we find something else on the way or Lani thinks of any other places.’ They nod back as I glance round to make sure everyone heard the plan and we keep going.  In the distance we can see the huge plumes of thick black smoke high in the air and I get a visual image of Chris standing at the back of the fort looking over the sea and watching the smoke with a small wry smile wondering what devastation we’re wreaking over here.

None of has eaten properly or slept for a long time, getting by on adrenalin and adventure.  The threat of death has kept us alert and ready but this can’t be sustained.  At some point we need to stop, rest, eat, sleep but right now I can’t think when that will be.  Every time we think we’ve reached our objective things change and fuck up.  We had to fight to get the Saxon, then fight to reach the hospital and Sarah.  Then we were fighting all the way back down thinking we’ll be safe at the forts only to face another massive battle.  Each time we keep thinking this will be it, this will be the final act and we can rest but as with everything else since this terrible event started it’s all gone to rat shit.  Even now marching out we’re thinking we’ll lure Darren away and get our people back to our fort and then it’ll be over but it won’t.  It will never be over.

We need to evolve the same way Darren is, or the way the infection keeps changing.  Something inside me screams that we need to attack and drive them down, press the attack and keep going no matter what happens.  Lure them away, fight, run, fight and all the time cull their numbers.  Only by killing every last one of them can we ever hope to live in peace.  Darren won’t stop until he turns every last one of us.  He has to die and die properly this time.

Ten

Howie is a cunt, a dirty cunning bastard and as long as he is alive he will inspire all the other hero wannabes that they can fight and kill us.  Instead of hiding away and being easy prey for us to come along and chomp on them, they’ll get all tough with nasty gleams in their eyes and instead of standing there pissing themselves and shaking like leaves holding little kitchen knives, they’ll be going into their garages and sheds looking for big heavy sharp things.  Making weapons and learning how to use bows and arrows.  I could arm my babies and give them all knives but the stupid buggers would probably just stab themselves or each other when they got all frenzied and worked up.  And there’s no way I can control so many individuals if they’re using hand weapons.  I can lead them, show them which way to go and even control a few during a scrap but that’s about it.  The control I have is strong but not that good.  So before Howie and his cuntrunt Dave can start leading some kind of do-gooding resistance movement he has to die.  He has to die painfully and slowly, an awful death that makes him scream and beg and when he turns I’ll send him back to them so they have to kill him again.  That will take the fight out of them.  It will send a message to leave us alone and let us live in peace.  We need to feed just the same as them and we’ve as much right as they do to go after our food source.  Just because it happens to be them we need to eat to survive is not our fault.  That’s nature.  Lions and wolves aren’t evil.  They kill to survive.  They take what they need to ensure the survival of their species.  Same as us.

This has to end and Howie must die before he becomes a folk hero cunt with songs sung about him.  Poems and stories whispered at night to small children about how they need to eat their vegetables and sleep well so they can grow big and strong and become like Howie the hero of the people.  Fuck him.  Fuck Dave and Fuck Howie and Fuck all their little piggy fucktard twats.

Eleven

‘Contact Mr Howie, straight ahead of us on the road,’ Dave shades his eyes to stare off into the distance.  Copying his actions I strain and squint until tears start filling my eyes but I can’t see anything.  Just the beach, the sea, the woods to one side and the road ahead of us stretching for miles.

‘Yeah I can see them,’ Blowers says, ‘in the distance there’s a thick black line of them.  They almost look part of the road Mr Howie.’  I relax my gaze and stare at the road ahead of us letting my eyes sweep along the concrete, taking in all the details and colours until there in the far distance I see a black smudge that becomes clearer as my mind works to process the images.  The smudge is moving.  A snake slithering across the road, long, dark and gently undulating.

‘There must be hundreds,’ I can already feel my heart beating faster at the sight of them.  They are earlier than expected.  We thought we’d be able to get into the town and find them before they started coming for us.  The fact that they’re heading in this direction means they’ve worked out where our group could be hiding.

‘There’s a lane at the side of the café Mr Howie, where we found the van earlier to pull the shutters off.  We can lead them up that lane and away from here,’ Lani suggests urgently.  Looking down the path I can see the café, then I look further up at the black mass of undead and then back down to the café.

‘Speed up,’ I give the simple order and start a gentle jog.  We need to make that café well before they get close.  We need a chance for them to see us, start coming and then leg it away.  Checking round me I see the others are moving faster now and thankfully they’ve sorted their bags well enough that nothing falls out or comes loose.  Waiting a couple of minutes for stiff muscles to warm up I gradually increase the pace.  Still jogging but getting faster and ensuring we get to that café.

Twelve

‘I spy with my zombie eye something beginning with C.’

‘C?’ Marcy asks, a puzzled expression on her face.

‘Cunts,’ I nod forward and point to the distance.

‘Can you see them?’ She says excitedly, staring off and scanning the bay, beach, sea.  Everywhere but the bloody path in front of her.

‘See them? I can smell the nasty little wankers.’

‘Really?’ She sniffs the air in front of her.

‘Not literally Marcy.’

‘Oh well don’t say it then if you can’t actually smell them.  Is that them?’ She points to the distant figures.

‘Yep, I’d recognise his gay run anywhere.’

‘Darren! What did I say about using gay insults?’

‘Sorry Marcy?’

‘Thank you.’

‘They’re coming straight at us.’

‘We should speed up,’ she says.

‘No, don’t waste energy.  They’re coming this way so let them get closer before we do anything.’ I can feel his blood in my mouth. I can taste it.  I can taste Howie’s death.  He’s close.  So is Dave.  My undead zombie heart kicks up a notch and despite what I just said I can’t help but start moving faster.

Thirteen

‘Quicker,’ muscles warmed up and lungs starting to work harder we increase our pace and keep watch between the café and the thick mass coming towards us.

‘Everyone okay?’ I call out mainly for the benefit of the new arrivals but I get a round robin chorus of replies.  Eyes now locked on the horde I can see Darren has been busy killing and gathering more undead to join his evil quest.  There are hundreds of them all moving as one and keeping steady with their leader.

Getting closer I can see two distinct figures out front, one of them must be Darren but I have no idea who the other is or how his vanity would allow someone else to walk out front with him.  Our two groups, so vastly different in size edge closer and closer.  The gap shrinks with every step we take and every one of those steps brings us closer to the real and serious risk of dying a horrible tortured death at the hands and mouths of those evil spawn.

With the café in full view now we keep running and see there is a safe length of distance between us and them and thankfully the horde have not started running at us yet.

‘He’s learning,’ Dave says.

‘He is mate, keeping them full of energy so we can have a good scrap. Hear that lads? Darren is keeping them all safe and together, he’s learning, he’s getting better.’

‘Fuck him Mr Howie,’ Blowers snorts.

‘We’ll still win,’ Nick adds and I hear the hard tones in their voices, the bitterness and the rage is there, ready to be focussed and used.

‘I fucking love this,’ Cookey suddenly spits out making the rest of us laugh, ‘why don’t we just fucking charge them and get at it.’

Stupidly.  Amazingly and without doubt his suggestion gains a second or two of serious thought.  Well I know I give it serious thought and something hangs in the air that suggest Dave, Clarence and the other two lads are too.  Not so sure about Tom, Steven and Lani though.

‘I never told you this before Clarence, but er…Darren once said you were fat and ugly,’ Cookey continues the jokes, his way of dealing with the impending fight.

‘Did he now?’ Clarence growls.

‘Do you think they’ve seen us?’ Steven asks.  Despite his nervous question his voice sounds steady enough.

‘I reckon so mate,’ my voice comes out low and gets a quick glance from Dave jogging at my side.  He gives a small rare smile and I can see the gleam in his eyes.

‘Nick, get in the café and drag out the gas bottles from that barbeque,’ Dave orders as we reach the front of the building.  The horde are several hundred metres away and still moving at the same steady pace but the sheer size of the zombie army coming at us makes it feel as if they are closer.

We pause, chests rising and falling as we get our breathing back under control.  Nick darts in, re-appearing with a gas bottle in each hand.  Dave takes one from Nick and takes the pistol from Nick’s belt all in one smooth move.  He hands the gas bottle to Clarence and nods at the approaching horde.  Clarence looks down at the gas bottle, takes it and weighs it in his hand for a second while looking at the zombies.  With a nod at Dave he turns to face them.

‘No fucking way,’ Cookey mutters, ‘they’re too far away.’

‘Yeah? Watch this, ready Dave?’ Clarence says quietly.

‘Ready,’ Dave slides the top of the pistol back and stands with it held in a two handed grip down in front of him.  Clarence swings the gas bottle back and forth a few times before spinning round and forward and sending it soaring into the sky.  Dave’s reaction is instant, the pistol is raised and tracks the bottle as it sails slowly end over end towards the horde.  The rest of us watch with baited breath as the bottle arcs up then starts coming down to earth; clearing the front of the horde and dropping down deep within the ranks.  Two loud retorts sound out.  One from the single shot Dave fires and a split second later from the gas bottle as it explodes.  The pressure wave sends the packed ranks spewing out in all directions, lacerated by scorching hot fragments of the gas bottle and burnt from the ignition of the gas contained within.

Cheers erupt as Clarence is handed the second bottle, he nods at Dave then spins round and forward again.  As he releases the bottle he roars out in animalistic rage and the gas bottle flies higher and goes further than the previous one.  Dave tracks the bottle and again fires at the very last second; as it drops to within a few feet of the horde.  With a huge explosion the bottle bursts into a ball of flame eliciting another eruption of cheers from us.

‘Fuck it, that’s got them going,’ I say as the horde starts running towards us and I just catch a glimpse of some of them stumbling over the bodies of their fallen comrades in death.

‘Get going,’ there’s no need to give that order because we’re off.  Jogging up the side of the café on the narrow road which starts off as a gentle slope but soon becomes a steep incline and within a couple of minutes I can feel my thighs starting to burn from the exertion.

‘Shitting hell,’ Nick groans with the same discomfort.

‘Stop moaning, it’s only a small hill,’ Lani smiles at the lads, looking fresh and unflustered she strides easily and clearly has a level of fitness like Dave who is also powering up without issue.  The incline increases and the hill seems to go on forever, draining our legs and sapping vital energy.  Glancing back I can see the front of the horde are nearly at the café with Darren and what looks like a beautiful woman out front.

‘Darren’s got a girlfriend,’ I pant with ragged breath.

‘Has he?’ Blowers, Nick and Cookey all twist round to look, ‘she looks crumpet,’ Blowers smirks.

‘FUCK YOU SMITHY,’ Cookey bellows as he sticks two fingers up.  Blowers and Nick repeat the act and I turn back to see Darren running with one hand up, extending his middle finger in our direction.

‘Does this hill ever end,’ Nick grumbles again after a few more seconds of constant running.

‘Not far,’ Lani replies.  We trudge up, one foot in front of the other, chests heaving and muscles straining with exertion.  None of us slow down though.  If we stop now we won’t be able to get going again.

‘Dig in,’ Clarence encourages the others, desperately willing them on despite the pain and agony, ‘keep going, not far now,’ I can see he is suffering.  Maybe more than us as his thigh muscles are massive and a man of his size is not designed for rapid stamina work like this.

Groans, growls, moans sound out between us as the bastard hill just keeps going.  ‘Don’t worry about them,’ Clarence catches Steven glancing round, his face red and sweating freely, ‘just keep moving.’

‘Give it here,’ Dave drops back to take the axe from Nick who is clearly struggling and I watch Lani discretely moving to take the same from Cookey.  He gives it up with barely a response.  Dave and Lani run easily, each holding two heavy hand weapons while the rest of us feel the vomit rising in our stomachs and throats.

‘Almost there,’ Lani points up ahead with the giant meat cleaver which barely trembles in her grasp.  Dave glances across at Lani and he looks as devoid of expression as normal I can tell from the constant time we’ve spent in each other’s company that he’s impressed.  The hill continues to rise as the car park they took the van from drops further and further behind.  If Lani thinks we can make it to the top she must be crazy.  Then I see it.  A small entrance on the right leading into a narrow lane.

The sight of the lane gives us a final burst of speed and we reach it with our lungs gasping for more air and our legs feeling like lead.  Turning into the lane I notice it’s bordered on one side by a thicket of dense trees and on the other by a high wire fence.  The sudden relief of not having to power against gravity is amazing and we half run half hobble into the lane that’s only wide enough for two abreast.  I drop back with Dave and Clarence and urge the rest past me, eventually bringing up the rear with Clarence at my side and Dave behind us.

The lane twists through the trees following the high wire fence that soon gives way to a high brick wall.

‘Here,’ Lani shouts and stops, pointing up at the wall, ‘go over here.’

‘Why?’ I shout from the back.

‘The wall has broken glass all along the top apart from this bit here; we can go through the grounds of the nunnery and come out further along.’

‘Do it, quick get over,’ I shout forward and watch Clarence push the rest out of the way to reach the front. Dropping his axe he grasps Lani round the waist and launches her on to the top of the wall with ease before twisting round to grab and hoist the next one up.  With Clarence throwing people, the lads scrabbling up and Dave leaping like a gazelle we get over the wall and slump down getting our breath for a few seconds.

‘Shotguns…get them ready,’ I gasp and stagger backwards a few steps to make sure the horde can see us through the wire fencing.  I reach back and draw mine out as the front of the horde comes into view.  They’re undead zombies but even they are blowing out their arses at having to charge up that bloody hill.  Darren and the woman are out in front, he slows down and we lock eyes for a few seconds.  On seeing me he surges forward only to be grabbed and pulled back by the woman, he turns and says something to her but she yells and pulls him back just as the horde surge past him, giving safety to them with their bodies.

‘YOU LOOK LIKE A TWAT IN THOSE JEANS DARREN,’ Cookey bellows to sniggers from Nick and Blowers.  Tom and Steven exchange nervous glances as they hold their shotguns ready.

‘FUCK YOU COOKEY I’M GOING TO EAT YOUR FUCKING FACE OFF,’ Darren screams out from somewhere in the midst of his horde who are all trying to squeeze down the narrow lane.

‘THAT WOMAN IS FIT DARREN WHAT’S SHE DOING WITH YOU?’ Blowers yells out, ‘SEND HER OVER FIRST SHE LOOKS NICE.’

‘Get a few now,’ I step towards the fence and fire both barrels into the densely packed horde the other side.  Loud metallic twangs sound out as the pellets strike the fence but the damage to the zombies is awesome.  A second or two later and eight more shotguns fire two barrels each and we watch with unabated glee as they start dropping from the fire.

‘COMING OVER,’ Dave shouts a warning as the first of the horde gains the top of the wall and drops down on our side.  Lani darts forward almost as quick as Dave and I watch Dave hold back at the last second and let Lani swing the cleaver round, taking the zombies head clean off its shoulders.  Re-loaded we fire again into the horde as Dave yells to start moving back.

The zombies spread further down the wall climbing onto the broken glass and dropping down with blood pumping from fresh cuts and fingers hanging off from the sharp shards.

Dropping back steadily we re-load and help each other to shove the shotguns back into bags and I quickly glimpse the flush of excitement on Tom and Steven’s faces from what could be their first kills.  The grounds slope down to a large detached house and we start jogging to gain distance as the undead breach the walls en masse.  The wire fencing begins to buckle as the horde start powering against it in a synchronised effort that must be the work of Darren controlling them.

‘Fuck it’s a zombie nun!’ Cookey yells out with alarm.  A black and white robed figure staggers into view from the side of the building.  More follow until there’s a line of black and white penguin-like zombie nuns.

‘I’m not killing a nun,’ Blowers shouts.

‘It’s not a nun,’ I shout back.

‘Sorry Mr Howie but I can’t kill a nun.’

‘This way,’ Lani steers us off to the left away from the undead nuns, weaving through a collection of outbuildings and down a driveway to a set of gates that hang open.  Large dried stains of blood spatter the ground, smearing the approach to the big house.

‘Don’t take us back up the hill,’ Nick pleads as we burst out into a quiet residential street to see the same evil incline rising off to the left.

‘Okay just for you,’ With a smile Lani leads us down the hill and cuts down an alley at the side of another big house.  We run through perfectly manicured lawns and trample flower beds as we climb low fences and break through to a main road, again on a bloody great big hill and facing more large Victorian houses.

‘Every bloody street looks the same in this shitty town,’ Blowers growls looking up and down the hill.  Thankfully Lani leads us down the hill this time back towards the seafront having taken us in a big loop.  Still jogging but with a steadier pace we’re all sweating and flushed, apart from the two weird fitness freaks among us.  As we near a junction at the bottom of the road the horde start bursting out of the gardens we’ve just come through, staggering into the road and hardly breaking stride as they continue their hunting.

‘Oh my god Mr Howie!’ Cookey yells out, standing still with a terrified expression on his face. He puts his fist to his mouth and turns back quickly to glance at the horde coming after us. ‘I think we’re being chased by zombies!’ the stance he adopts with the mock expression of terror sets us off and we burst out laughing.  Grinning like an idiot Cookey starts jogging again.  Knackered, breathing hard, sweating, armed to the teeth and being chased by several hundred zombie creatures we crack up laughing as we run.  Giggles of mirth sound out and I know it’s just the nervous excitement manifesting but it still feels good to be laughing.  A little surreal but good.

Turning into the junction Lani continues to lead us down quiet side streets and it’s not long before we start to see signs of the devastation that Darren has wrought, bringing our laughing and frivolity to an abrupt end and reminding us of how much death and suffering must have taken place just hours before.  Windows and doors smashed, bodies strewn everywhere.  Some are old and already decomposing, festering in the hot summer sun and writhing with the bloated fat white bodies of maggots. Some are fresh kills still with glistening injuries that hardly look human due to the amount of flesh eaten away.  Entrails, organs and limbs have been hacked apart.  The sour, metallic tang of filth, blood and rancid half cooked meat fills the air mixing with the smoky scent from the fires still raging nearby like the aftermath of some macabre barbeque.

Our pace stays steady, we keep the horde a few hundred metres behind us and I only wish we had greater fire power to whittle them down as we run.  The Saxon and the GPMG would make short work of this bunch and it makes me think that without weapons like that and the people that know how to utilise them this ongoing battle could be long and drawn out if we’re reduced to using things like shotguns and axes.

Breathing gets harder and the dull aches in our legs spread as we power on.  Dave orders everyone to draw water from their bags and to sip it down as we jog but not to gulp it too quickly.  Helping each other we take the bottles out, squirting the gloriously cool liquid onto our faces to rinse the stinging sweat from our eyes.  Even Lani is starting to look a little red in the cheeks and her beautiful silky black hair starts to stick to her glistening forehead.  Tom and Steven both keep pace and look neither fresher nor more knackered than the rest.

‘We have to go back uphill but we can stagger it using side streets,’ Lani says her voice  still strong and confident.  She jogs just ahead of me and I watch her lithe athletic body running with so much grace she’s like water running down a stream.  Each movement is precise but relaxed, no energy wasted, her arms stay relatively still and don’t pump away, her head stays relaxed and sways gently as she bobs along, her feet come up enough to propel her along and no more.  So much like Dave and I wonder how people are made so differently.  Clarence with his enormous strength and huge heart must be suffering more than any of us having to carry his weight along.  He doesn’t moan once and I know that so many years in the forces must have left him with more stamina than a big guy like him would normally have.  His face is set, serious and focussed.  All our faces are as we start to climb another hill and have to internally change to a lower gear to keep the momentum going.

‘Keep going, it’s not far,’ Lani urges us on, dropping back and speaking in low tones to some of the lads, offering to take their axes but I see their stubborn pride showing and they refuse.

‘Go right Mr Howie,’ Lani points to another junction further up the hill and again we dig in and drive on desperate to reach the flat street.  As we turn I feel a sense of victory, the worst of the pain eases off as the ground levels out and I call out encouraging everyone to keep moving and not slow down.

‘They’ve gained a little distance,’ Dave says loud enough for us all to hear, ‘don’t speed up lads, keep this pace,’ Dave adds at the burst of power applied at his bad news, sounding more like a drill sergeant than ever before.

More houses with shattered doors.  More broken windows.  More blood.  More devastation as we go deeper into this town following the route that Darren took on his quest for food.  Our lives are so entwined now and I can sense him behind us, the infection or disease or whatever dirty thing that his filthy heart pumps round his body driving him on, making him think and believe that killing us is the answer to every problem he’ll ever have.

He must realise that this is futile.  That by killing and turning everyone he is eradicating his own food source which only serves to give him a finite existence.

‘Church or pier Mr Howie?’ Lani asks, breaking into my morbid thoughts.

‘Church Lani.’

‘Please say that’s downhill,’ Nick groans.

‘Left and uphill again but only for a minute or two,’ Lani turns and gives the struggling lad a huge gorgeous smile and I know it’s just what he needs and must be making him feel like he’s floating on air.

‘DIG IN,’ Clarence roars as we surge into yet another junction and turn to start working up the incline again.  Growls come from Blowers as he lets some rage into his system, Tom looks tougher already and I can see Steven is struggling but determined.  Nick worries me though, I can see he is really struggling to keep up with the relentless pace.

‘Give me your axe,’ I drop back and hold my arm out.

‘I’m okay Mr Howie,’ he pants.

‘Now Nick,’ I insist, a harder tone to my voice and he hands it over without question.  Dave drops behind him and starts tugging his rucksack off, telling him to drop his arms down.

‘I’m okay,’ Nick protests again but is not left with any choice as Dave pulls the bag off and carries it one handed.  Clarence drops back too, raises his water bottle over Nick’s head upends it and pours the cool liquid over his face.

‘Keep going Nick, you’re doing well,’ For once Dave doesn’t rely on fear but adopts a softer tone urging him on.

‘Go right,’ Lani yells as we gain the next junction and I could kiss her for staggering the run like this instead of just assuming we could keep up with her and run straight up this hill.  Cookey starts to flag next, he reaches the junction and starts well on the flat level ground but it’s not long before I see his face grow pale with exhaustion and his steps begin to falter.  Clarence notices too and drops back to grab his wrist and pull him on, yelling for someone to give him some water.

‘They’re gaining,’ Dave keeps his voice calm but alerts us once more to the horde behind.

‘We can stay flat for a while now,’ Lani keeps us going along one wide avenue until we reach a crossroads.  The hotel we used the night before is just down to the left with the seafront further down the hill providing a dazzling blue backdrop to the huge fire still raging away.  We go over the crossroads and into the main town area, running past deserted shops and seeing more carnage from the night before.  Decaying bodies and dried blood stains are everywhere.  Dave runs to Lani and hands her Nick’s bag then sprints off ahead disappearing into a shop doorway.  Loud smashing sounds follow and within a few seconds he sprints back out carrying armfuls of Lucozade sports drinks.  He runs back and hands them round to ragged thanks and grunts of approval.  The flat Isotonic drink pumps welcome glucose into our systems, the risk of cramp is high but we need an instant energy fix more than anything or we’ll grind to a halt.  Tom, Steven and Lani aren’t suffering the same as the rest of us, but then we’ve been solidly at it for the full nine days so far.  Bad rest periods, sporadic food and constant movement has worn us down.

The drinks work, revitalising us within seconds and giving us just that extra bit of energy to keep our legs moving one foot in front of the other.  That and the flat ground helps us push on.  My legs feel like rubber, weak and shaky.  My chest is heaving and I can feel a dull ache in the back of my head.  The drink is downed within seconds and I can taste the syrup on my tongue and lips.  Dave sprints off ahead again and this time he powers into the main doors of a large bar which already looks wrecked and destroyed with all the windows smashed and bits of furniture strewn about.  He’s gone longer this time and comes out just as we draw even with the building.  Instead of carrying refreshing drinks he’s got armfuls of spirit bottles, each one with the top unscrewed and a torn piece of rag hanging from the neck.  He drops down and uses a lighter to ignite the rags.

‘KEEP GOING,’ He yells as we stop to help, his powerful voice repels us away and we do as we’re told, jogging on as he picks the first bottle up and sends it high into the air.  Two more are thrown before the first one impacts with a shattering whoosh and I glance back to see the liquid igniting into a thick pool of flame.  Dave spot throws the bottles and creates a line of fire across the road before jogging back to us and taking Nick’s bag from Lani.

‘Good thinking mate,’ I pant the words out between breaths, vowing to never smoke another cigarette again.  The flames won’t slow them but it will hurt a few and maybe ignite some clothes in their densely packed ranks.  Through the town centre and we jog round to the left and up through the High Street.  Again it starts off as a gentle incline but rapidly gets steeper until we’re at risk of failing.  But each time that happens we reach another junction and turn onto level ground.

‘How….far?’ Nick gasps.

‘Just round the corner I promise Nick,’ Lani urges him on and Clarence drops back to grasp his wrist again.  ‘There’s the top there,’ Lani points over the tops of the building ahead of us and sure enough we can see the top of a church tower pointing into the heavens.  The sight does more than any sugary drink will ever do; it gives us hope and a visible finishing line.

‘Dave, Lani, we need to make sure we can go straight in,’ I shout out.

‘Let me take Nick’s bag,’ Tom holds his hand out as Dave passes it over and I can see the young policeman still has energy left in his system.  Lani passes me Nick’s axe and they race off side by side.  The young Thai woman easily keeping pace with the ex-special forces soldier.

‘Fucking look at them two…’ Cookey gasps.  We urge, cajole, threaten and push each other on.  Not one of us could have done this run on our own.  The mental anguish would have been too great but together we’ve just about achieved it.  Behind us the horde gain with every junction we pass.  The church is dead ahead of us now.  A massive structure just as Lani described with high narrow stained glass windows and a huge single tower that gradually thins to a sharp point at the very pinnacle.

‘Lads,’ I take a deep breath and judge that we’ve only got a couple of hundred metres left to go, ‘we need to sprint…NOW….MOVE…NOW…’ Clarence takes the order up and repeats it in his loud deep voice.  With nothing left but pure spit we lengthen our strides and sprint it out.  For the first few seconds it actually feels nicer to be moving at a different pace and the longer strides seem to stretch out sore thigh and calf muscles but that’s it.  Those few seconds.  After that it’s utter hell and quite possibly one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life.

But, we do it.  We reach the church and the low wall running round it.  Dave is off to the left waving us to follow him.  We turn and head in his direction and he leads us down a side path to a surprisingly well built annexe.  I was expecting a cheap structure cobbled together from the hard pressed church funds but this has been made with decent stone and strong modern windows.  We go round to the back and into an open rear door.  I have no idea who or how they got this open and I don’t have the breath to ask right now.  One by one we run inside and Dave slams the door shut then starts gathering furniture to stack against the inside of it.  Creating a barricade behind us.

Rage fuels us and with grunts of animal anger we grab bookcases, desks, chairs and anything else we can find and ram them high and deep against the wall.

‘Shutters,’ Lani says and I glance round to see the inside of the windows have wooden shutters.  They are more decorative than anything but they’ll slow the horde down and we spin round the large room closing them to and snapping the thin locks down.

A door opens into an office, through which is a thicker door leading to the church.  Dripping sweat and swearing like the soldiers they are, Cookey and Blowers ransack the room in seconds until one of them is holding a big old-looking key up and shouting in triumph.

The key fits the door and it swings outwards, giving us the blessing we need as it means they won’t be able to smash it in so quickly.  The door is solid and would once have been the churches main rear door.  We go through into the cool dark interior, our breathing and heavy footsteps echoing round the high room.

Dave gets the door closed, uses the key to lock it and slams thick bolts home at the top and bottom.  We start towards the back looking for the main doorway that Lani mentioned but Dave waves us down, telling us to get our breath while Lani shows him the door which is further back along the church and off to one side.

‘Two thick wooden doors, they’ll hold for a while,’ Dave calls out.  I nod back from my position of bent almost double, my chest still heaving.  The sweat pours off my forehead, big drops continually falling to a puddle at my feet.

‘Water,’ I shrug my bag down and take a bottle out, nodding and motioning for the others to do the same.  They need little prompting and we gulp the liquid down quickly.  Second bottles are opened then drained just as swiftly.  Dave passes us on his inspection tour en route to the front where the vicar or priest or head god man would normally stand.  He opens another door and slips out of view, returning a minute later.

‘The tower entrance is through here, there’s a toilet with running water too,’ he calls across.

‘Lads, get the bottles re-filled we could be here a while,’ they scoop down to pick their bags up and head through the door.  Muffled bangs suddenly sound out from the annexe  then after a couple of minutes we hear more bangs on the main doors and the noise of glass windows being smashed.  Looking up I see the windows of the church are not as narrow as I hoped but they are high up, depicting glorious images of saints bathed in golden light, crosses casting vibrant shadows and one that appears to show God bearing down on a demon like  creature.

‘Very apt,’ I mutter and note that the window panes are lead lined.  They’ll take some damage to beat them out and make a hole big enough for a man.

‘Good choice,’ I shout to Lani as she appears from the door leading to the tower.  She’s used the running water to soak her hair and face and I watch as she steps through, pulling her wet shining hair back into a ponytail.  The front of her top is drenched and clings to her frame.  I glance away quickly hoping and praying she didn’t notice me looking at her in that way.

‘Thanks Mr Howie,’ she replies and walks over to stand next to me, ‘glad you let me come along then?’

‘Very,’ I smile at her and quickly look away again as she stares back holding eye contact.

‘I’m er…I’ll go and get some more water,’ l can’t believe that after running like that and everything that’s happened I still get nervous around pretty girls, especially when they’re wearing soaking wet tops and sexily pulling their hair back like that.  Going through the door I see yet another solid wooden door propped open and thick stone steps leading away into the gloom.  That must be the tower.  A single bolt is on the inside but it will be enough to slow them down and we can do a fighting retreat.  Buying time, that’s all this is.

In the toilet I see the lads have stripped their tops off and are noisily splashing water over their bodies and holding their steaming heads under the running water, giving appreciative groans of pleasure.  They make way as Dave and I enter and like them we strip, dunk our heads under and gasp as the beautifully cold water hits the backs of our necks.  I soak my top in the running water and use it to wash the sweat away from my upper body.  Clarence stands at the end wash basin bent over and keeps his huge bald head under the running water for long minutes.

I gulp the water down and keep going until I feel full knowing I’ll be pissing every few minutes for the rest of the night.  As I lift my head I catch my reflection for the first time in what feels like years.  I’m not me anymore.  Some bloke with a dark beard and curly dark hair stares back from the mirror.  He looks tanned and any trace of fat he once had on his face is gone.

I find a dry top in my bag and quickly pull it down over my head and tuck it into my trousers, remembering Dave doing this very same thing back in the supermarket when we met.  Was it really only nine days ago?

‘Ready?’ the lads nod back, looking fresher and revitalised.  We head back out into the main church room and hear loud bangs coming from all around us. Echoing off the big empty room.  Groans sound out every few seconds and I look up at the darkening windows knowing that night can’t be that far away.

We walk up towards the back of the church and peer into the recessed doorway.  Two thick wooden doors are locked and bolted shut.

‘It’s too wide; if they break through together we won’t be able to hold them.  Grab some of these pews and shove ‘em in there.’  Easier said than done Howie.  The long pew benches weigh a ton and it takes three of us per pew to manhandle it into the doorway.  Apart from Clarence who drags one along on his own, scoring deep scratches into the ground from the end left on the floor.

‘Get some more and turn them round to make them like hurdles.  It’ll slow them down and give us a chance to get a few shots in before we get through that door to the tower.’  Again we pull more pews over and stagger them in lines going away from the door and leaving just enough room to squeeze through.

‘Right, Blowers and Tom you stay close to that back door, Cookey, Nick and Steven you stay close to this door and try to rest.  Get your shotguns ready and make sure you have cartridges to hand so you can re-load quickly,’ the last bit is said more for the benefit of Tom, Steven and Lani but I know the others will keep a close eye on them.

‘Fuck me Dave, that was evil,’ I mutter as the lads start to sort through their bags and get their weapons ready.

‘What was?’

‘That bloody run! What did you think I meant?’

‘Oh that, yeah it was quite long.’

‘Quite long he says…’

‘You did well though Mr Howie.’

‘Thanks mate, the lads did well and that Lani is bloody fit.’ He looks at me with that gleam in his eye that I’ve come to know so well.

‘I meant fit as in running and stuff…’

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

‘Dave, I didn’t mean it like I thought she’s fit like hot or something.’

‘Okay Mr Howie…is she not pretty then?’

‘Fuck me Dave, are you asking my opinion on a woman?’ I reply shocked.

‘No Mr Howie.’

‘You just did.’

‘I was asking your view Mr Howie.’

‘That’s the same thing Dave.’

‘Is it? Oh okay Mr Howie.’

‘Well I guess we just wait now.  I might have a cigarette…don’t look at me like that Dave…’

Fourteen

‘Why didn’t you make them go faster?’ Marcy demands as I stare up at the church looming above us and watch my babies probing the outside and looking for weaknesses.

‘Because they still need air and blood the same as them…’ I point to the church, ‘and the same as you and I.  Just because they’re zombies doesn’t make them fucking Olympic athletes Marcy.’

‘Don’t swear at me Darren.’

‘I wasn’t swearing at you my love I was swearing in conversation.’

‘So that’s Howie with the beard and the dark hair?’

‘Yeah why? Fuck me Marcy you’re always talking about him.’

‘No I’m not Darren I was just asking.  The small one was Dave, the big one Clarence who were the rest then? And who was that woman?’

‘Three of them were Blowers, Cookey and Nick.  They’re the ones that shouted at us and said you were fit,’ she gives a big grin at that, just like she did when she heard them shouting for me to send her over first back in that lane,  ‘I don’t know who the others are.’

‘That girl was pretty,’ she muses.

‘She was,’ I reply and catch a sharp look from her, ‘what? You were grinning when they said you looked fit.’

‘That’s different Darren.’

‘How?’

‘Because I’m still a woman and any woman likes to be complimented.’

‘Yeah well…double standards if you ask me.’

‘It’s a good job I’m not asking you then isn’t it,’ she smiles acidly, ‘so what now?’

‘Wait for night, they’ll get all powered up when it gets dark and we can start sending them in.’

‘Right we need a plan, there are two ways in; one through those big doors and the other through that side building.  I suggest we split them up and send one group in through the back, another attacking the main doors and some more smashing those big windows to see if we can get through there.’ She stands with her hands on her hips looking like a sultry army general ordering troops into battle. ‘What do you think?’ She turns to face me.

‘Well…’

‘And once we’ve got an entry opened up we go back to the original plan and send the group one in first and then the rest as we discussed,’ she cuts me off having clearly made her mind up.

‘Did you hear what they said about my jeans,’ I remember the insults and it’s only now that we’ve had the time and the breath to mention it. ‘I told you I looked stupid.’

‘They’re just jealous, what about the plan?’

‘I felt stupid,’ I mutter.

‘Oh baby, don’t look like that.  They were just being mean for the sake of it.  You look really nice dressed like that.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘Of course my baby Darren sweetie! Those nasty boys were just trying to upset you… come here and have a bite of my neck and feel all better,’ she rubs my back as I nuzzle away and draw some refreshing blood down, ‘there…that’s better isn’t it,’ she says soothingly.  I nod back and she wipes the blood from the corner of my mouth.  ‘Don’t worry, you will have the last laugh when we get in there and eat them.’

‘Okay baby,’ I reply feeling better but still feeling stupid dressed in these stupid clothes.

‘Now about the plan my sweetie, what do you think?’ She smiles up at me and holds my hands in hers.

‘It’s a good plan baby.’

‘Really?’ She smiles, ‘do you think so?’

‘I think it’s a great plan Marcy,’ I nod and she grins proudly before turning back to watch the church.

‘Okay my lover, can you split them up for me and send them where we said.’

‘Okay baby,’ she gives a little clap of joy as the horde suddenly stop moving freely and start responding to the control given from my mind.  One group start towards the big doors.  Another start towards the annexe and the last lot I get mooching round for rocks, stones and anything that can be thrown to start breaking the windows.

‘Oh we’re so clever,’ she claps excitedly again at the sight of our babies working to the plan she devised, ‘You and I Darren my baby are destined for big things,’ she throws her arms around me and slathers me in kisses before dropping her head down to bite into my neck and give herself some nourishment.

Tonight Howie.  Tonight will be your last night on this earth so make the most of it you fucking little prick.

Fifteen

Daylight fades and the interior of the church grows gloomier and darker by the second.  Stacks of candles are discovered in a big box at the back the church and these get handed round with strict instruction to make sure they don’t fall over and set fire to anything, seeing as we’re now effectively trapped.

‘Also, if we start retreating then snuff ‘em out as you fall back,’ I call out and get a series of responses.  With the candles lit the inside becomes soft and inviting.  The stained glass windows reflect the flicker of the naked flames casting a warm orangey glow over everything.  The general noise from outside suddenly ceases and the silence that follows becomes oppressive. All of us are waiting to see what happens next.  What does happen is that the horde become directed and concentrated with two distinct attacks taking place.  One at the main set of doors and, judging from the muffled sounds in that direction, the other from the annexe

‘He’s split them into teams,’ Clarence says quietly looking first at the annexe door we came through then back to the main doors.  Cooled off and re-hydrated we’re left feeling a bit shaky and very drained from the massive expenditure of energy and excitement. Our  breathing has become steadier and I can feel a sense of weariness starting to descend.  Cigarettes are lit and I wonder when anyone was last allowed to smoke in here.

‘How long will it take for them to get in?’ Lani asks standing close to me and holding her shotgun one handed down at her side.

‘Not long, it’ll be night any minute and they’ll get frenzied.’

‘Once they get through we fall back to the tower and try to hold them off?’

‘Yep, we’ll get as many as we can.  Try and reduce the numbers but ultimately it’s about keeping them focussed and busy, letting Darren think he’s got a chance of getting us otherwise there’s a risk he’ll move off to try and target our group.’

‘Why isn’t he doing that now? He could split his zombies and have some here and some going for the others, or just go for the others and leave us here.’

‘I don’t think he’ll be able to control them so well if he splits them like that, also he knows that if he moves away from here we’ll go after him and pick his horde off as they fall back, we are the primary objective I’m afraid.’

‘But why? Why go after you so much? I get that there’s history and stuff but if he left you alone you’d go back to your fort and he could do what he wants.’

‘I don’t know…he must be obsessed.’

‘He knows we’ll come after him,’ Dave adds in a quiet voice, ‘and kill every one of those things in the process.’

‘Really? Would you do that if you had the choice to just live safely?’

‘Yes we would because we wouldn’t be living safely.  It would only be a matter of time before he comes back and tries again.  We’ve got no idea how long those things can last for, shit it could be years if they get enough nutrition to keep them going,’ I reply.

‘Or just a couple of weeks,’ she says hopefully, ‘if they’re dead and their bodies are slowly dying then it can only be a matter of time.  They don’t eat and even if they could eat humans it wouldn’t be enough to keep them going surely.  Some of them look like they’re falling apart.’

‘That reminds me, Dave did you see the state of the zombies at the front of the horde?’

‘I did Mr Howie.  I think he’s putting the worse ones at the front and keeping the others back.’

‘He’s doing what?’ Nick calls across.

‘You must have seen the state of those zombies at the front, they were falling apart.  It looks like Darren is keeping the best ones for last.’

‘What an utter cunt…sorry Lani,’ Cookey spits.

‘I’ve heard worse,’ she replies.

‘Oh here we go.  Make ready,’ I call out as all noise from outside ends.  We all know what’s about to happen but knowing it doesn’t make it any less scary.  And standing in an old church with hundreds of those things outside just increases the tension.  Long seconds go by with nothing, no noise, no sounds apart from our breathing and thumping hearts.  The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and then it hits.

Hundreds of voices bursting out as one.  Howling into the night sky.  Filling the air with horrendous screaming roars that send a shiver down my spine.  The sound isn’t human and it stands as testament to the sheer threat of what we’re facing.  Hundreds and hundreds of guttural voices going as loud as they can.  High pitched, low pitched and every pitch in between but they’re combined and synchronised and truly, utterly terrifying.  Lani steps closer to me but she looks as poker faced as Dave.  All of us stare round at the walls and I feel my skin crawling as the howls continue.

‘KUM BA YAH MY LORD….KUM BY YAH!’ Cookey bursts into song at the top of his voice making us all splutter with laughter, ‘we’re in a church,’ he shrugs and starts again with Blowers and Nick joining in with him.  By half way through the first verse we’re all singing and screaming the words out as loud as possible, Clarence and Dave booming away with their deep bass voices.  Giggles keep interrupting us but the sound fills the church.

‘DARRENS A TWAT MY LORD KUM BA YAH’ Cookey sings the first words as Blowers starts laughing hard.  Again we join in with his new lyrics and blast the words out.  The howling outside ceases and we all pause waiting for the frantic attack to begin but instead they start again, louder, harder and distinctly more aggressive.  As soon as they start we start and the next few minutes are spent pitching our voices against each other with Cookey making up new versions for each verse.

Then it’s over and the nights work begins in earnest.  Strong concerted attacks start at the main doors and from the annexe.  Growls sound out and even from in here we can tell they’re faster and moving with stronger purpose now.  The first of the loud ragged thumps at the door cease and then start again with a combined fury echoing throughout the high walls.

‘Form up,’ I shout the order and we gather at the main doors, knowing it won’t take long for them to break them open.  The pews we stuffed in will slow them down but not for long.

‘Fire in groups.  Blowers you take Tom and Lani, Dave will take Cookey and Steven, Clarence you’re with me and Nick.  Keep an eye on that back door.  We fall back steadily using the pews to fire from as we go.  Unless they all come flying in at once in which case just run.’

‘COVER,’ Dave shouts at the same second as the windows all along the wall we’re facing implode beneath the force of launched missiles.  Glass fragments fly deep into the room as rocks bounce down on the wooden pews.  We scoot forward and press ourselves against the wall either side of the main door.  With no windows directly above us we should be fairly safe.  Rocks, stones, and smashed up paving slabs come flying through the windows.  More glass shatters and I wince at the damage being caused to such a lovely old building.  A cacophony of noise clamours all around us.  Howling from the undead screaming in hunger and frustration, loud solid bangs from the doors, the splintering crash of breaking glass.  We stay quiet, with Dave and me peering round the edges of the recess checking the doors.

‘Doors breaching,’ Dave says loud enough for everyone to hear.  The doors slowly start to give under the merciless weight of bodies being slammed against them again and again.

My rate of breathing increases and my heart slams inside my chest.  Sharp focus comes into my eyes.  A sense of excitement.  Adrenalin getting ready to be released.  Rage and fury start to build but I won’t let them control me now.  The cost was too high and I faltered the last time.  It needs to be focussed and used sparingly.  Kill quickly.  Move quickly.  Conserve energy.  The doors start to give, gradually splintering and creaking with each successive thump.  Then they split as the locks give and a small gap forms in the middle.

‘Ready Dave?’ I shout over to my friend.  We lock eyes smiling at each other and seeing the sheer impatience for it to begin.

‘Yes Mr Howie,’ he growls back.

‘Blowers, make ready to fire…wait…wait…NOW!’ The doors give, slamming back against the pews and giving enough gap to allow the first two snarling monsters through.  Blowers, Tom and Lani lurch round to face into the recessed area and unload six shots within a split second massacring the first two zombies.

‘HOLD!’ I raise my hand and watch as the next lot negotiate the bodies of the first two blocking the path.  The bodies get pulled back and I realise Darren must be close enough to watch and control them.  Instead of powering through they focus on slamming into the doors again and again, trying to force the gap to widen.

‘Dave, Cookey, Steven go up and fire through the gap…NOW’ they surge in with Dave going low to fire his barrels out through the gap, Steven fires above him and Cookey jumps in as Steven drops back.  A very slight pause and they start again, harder and more powerful.  I catch a glimpse through the gap of one of the bodies being used as a battering ram.  Held by several others it is slammed repeatedly into the gap pulping the already destroyed body.

‘My lot….NOW,’ I drop down, copying Dave’s movement so I can fire with Clarence above me.  Our shots are taken and we drop back.  Another pause and then a huge crash as Darren sends a whole group surging forward to slam into the doors.  The impact sends the pews back a couple of inches and before we have time to react and push them back another round crashes in and forces the gap to widen even more.

‘FALL BACK,’ we move out and take cover behind the first of the pews.  More crashes and the doors widen with each massive impact.  Then four of them burst through, snarling and scrabbling to be the first ones to take our flesh.

‘FIRE,’ Blowers shouts and his group stand to unload all their shots then drop down to quickly re-load. The four undead become dead again as hundreds of pellets rip them to pieces but more take their place.

‘FIRE,’ Dave’s turn to shout and they fire into the recessed area, shredding the zombies to pieces.  As quick as they fall more surge in and I shout my turn.  Firing our weapons and dropping down to re-load as Blowers takes over.  Blowers, Dave, Me and we repeat the action again and again until the bodies start to pile up and create a natural obstacle.

Loud bangs sound from the door behind us but its outward opening and will take more to break through.

‘Windows,’ Dave yells.  I look up to see an undead clinging onto the windowsill and trying to rip the lead lining out.  He grasps the lining between his hands while more zombies underneath yank him down hard, bringing the lead with him.

‘Fuck me that’s clever,’ Cookey shouts as we re-load.  More undead appear at the windows, hoisted up high and ripping the lead down forming holes big enough to get bodies through.

‘I’ll take them,’ Dave shouts as more zombies appear at the windows.  We continue to fire into the killing ground of the doorway.  The reduced range of the shotguns is vastly outweighed by the awesome fire power and the slaughtered corpses stack up.  Blood and gunky pieces of flesh coat the walls, dripping down to pool on the floor.  The doors and pews get peppered again and again by the pellets and the room reeks from the constant firing.  Eardrums hurt and heads ache but they go unnoticed as we fire again and again.

A single howling zombie balances on the narrow sill above our heads and drops down.  Dave is there instantly knives drawn and the thing is dispatched within a second, its head dropping from its neck and rolling across the flagstone floor.  The back door is taking a hammering but holding firm.  More undead clamber onto the windowsills and start dropping in only to be met by Dave spinning and dancing through them with his deadly knives.  Not one of them takes more than a couple of steps before they’re made dead again.  Steven, Tom and Lani all stand with their mouths open watching mesmerised as Dave dances with his athletic grace, stretching, kneeling, leaping and spinning.

‘Wait till he gets warmed up,’ Clarence shouts above the noise.

‘Start moving back,’ I yell out in alarm as the fresh surge of zombies coming through the doors pick up some of the corpses and start using them as shields, gaining ground as the pellets slam into the cadavers but lack the power to rip all the way through the meat.

As one we move back a couple of pews, Blowers taking the time to extinguish the candles as we retreat.  Lani drops her shotgun for a second and runs at the undead falling through the windows with her meat cleaver drawn and ready. She slams the blade into a neck and extends her foot to kick it back before spinning round to slice the blade deep across a zombie face.

‘Keep firing,’ I shout and we let rip with the shotguns.  All order is gone and we all fire at will,  re-loading and firing both our barrels into the mass.  The cadavers being used as shields quickly get shredded and discarded but fresh ones are swiftly taken up.

‘Time to go, FALL BACK,’ I yell out as they almost reach the edge of the threshold. Once there they’ll be able to spill out to both sides and start surrounding us.  We fall back steadily, kicking candles out with our feet and plunging the room further into darkness.  Dave drops back towards our group and kills the zombies coming at him rather than rushing into their ranks and leaving us exposed.

‘REAR DOOR,’ Blowers shouts as the wood splinters from the sustained battering.

‘ON IT,’ Clarence bellows and shoves his shotgun into his backpack, taking up his axe he marches to the door and stands ready to repel.

‘KEEP GOING,’ I shout and we fire our weapons at them as we negotiate the pews.  They breach the edge of the recess and surge into the church, moving off to the sides.  The shotguns are now rendered useless as they fan out.  Mine gets shoved back into my bag and like Clarence I take up my axe and grip it two handed.  Ready.  Waiting.  Eyes fixed.  Growls sound out from zombies and humans as we retract into a tight bunch and edge back closer and closer to the door.

They attack.  Suddenly and with ferocious intent and it’s down to this again.  Hand weapons and fighting to survive.  My axe comes alive in my hands.  An old friend that feels familiar and just right.  I swing out slicing deep into a neck and severing the head.  Pull back and strike out again cleaving a skull open and spilling brains onto the floor.  A quick glance shows me the annexe door is breached and Clarence is putting his own axe to deadly use, repeatedly chopping into each zombie that tries to clamber through the broken door.  He checks round and sees us retreating and drops back to join the group.

As we reach the door, Dave, Clarence and I take the front and fight them back while the others drop through one by one.

I go next leaving the two best fighters repelling the attacking zombies.  Clarence next and Dave stands his ground as we draw breath and watch in wonder as the man holds steady and kills anything that dares get close to him.

‘CLARENCE…PULL ME QUICK AND SLAM THE DOOR,’ Dave’s voice booms out.  He knows that to take a step backwards will send them surging into the doorway and we’ll never be able to close it.  With on hand on the open door Clarence leans out and grabs the back of Dave’s rucksack.  With a mighty heave he pulls Dave clean off his feet and into the room with us.  Slamming the door shut with his other hand he drops Dave and shoves his body against the door.  A single key lock holds the door but it’s enough to hold for a second while we cross into the tower stairwell and slam that door behind us too.  Again just a single bolt gets rammed home.

‘Get re-loaded and have water if you need it,’ with the door closed I speak into pitch black until Dave and Nick rummage through their bags and turn small torches on giving us enough light to see.

‘Is there another door at the top?’ I ask Dave.

‘No, the stairs spiral up to a landing then start again.  They get much narrower as they go higher.’

‘Okay, original plan then.  We retreat slowly and keep cutting them down as we go.  Everyone okay? Anyone hurt?’

‘My feelings are a bit hurt Mr Howie…I think I might need some counselling,’ Cookey jokes.

‘You need sectioning mate,’ Blowers adds, ‘fucking Kum by Yah? Where did that come from?’

‘That was brilliant,’ Tom laughs, ‘I remember singing that at school.’

‘See, stick with us Tom it’s a laugh a minute…just don’t let yourself get caught alone with Blowers,’ Cookey says in a serious tone.

‘Eyes front,’ Dave interrupts to the sound of the first door splintering open followed a second later by loud thumps at the door just a few feet below us.

‘Get into pairs, how are we for cartridges?’

‘We’re okay but they won’t last long if we keep that rate of fire up.’ Dave answers.

‘Stick with the shotguns for now and we’ll switch to hand weapons when we get further up…here they come.’ The doors bursts open and the space instantly fills with the snarling faces of the undead.  ‘Change of plan,’ I shout and step forward with my axe, swinging it down to chop deep into the shoulder of the first one through the door. ‘Use hand weapons now and save the shotguns for when they send the best ones through…Tom up front with me.’ The staircase is wide enough for us to stand side by side and have enough room to swing down and batter them away.  Tom responds quickly, joining me at the front as they pour through the door and start climbing the stairs.  Dave drops down behind us and holds his torch so it shines down the stairs illuminating them and trying to blind them at the same time.

Undead rush forward and I slice them down, cutting heads off and very slowly giving ground.  They quickly muster and start attacking in greater numbers.  Snarling vicious beasts with clawed hands, bared teeth and a wild feral way of moving.  Tom does well for his first proper fight and he soon gets the hang of it, slashing away and cutting down into their heads.  The bodies drop and roll backwards but soon get trampled underneath the ever encroaching fetid zombies.

‘Next two,’ I yell out, keen to swap round and conserve our energy and knowing how tired my arms got when I first started swinging my axe about so knowing Tom must be feeling it.

‘Ready Mr Howie,’ Cookey right in my ear.  I press back against the wall as the lad steps past me and starts cutting them down.  Breathing hard I move further up the stairs as Nick takes over from Tom.

‘You did well mate,’ I say to Tom between breaths.

‘Thanks,’ Tom looks at me with a glint in his eye that I’ve seen many times from the lads after a fight and I know he’ll do well from now on.

The horde presses the attack and with every minute that passes it feels their attack becomes fiercer, more ferocious and determined.  Slowly giving ground, one step at a time  it’s not long before Cookey and Nick swap round with Blowers and Steven and I realise our two best combatants are holding their turn for when they’re really needed the most.  Blowers, a proven warrior steps in to take his turn, swinging out and culling their numbers with now practised ease.  Steven seems wild though, he swings out too hard and repeatedly slams the axe into the wall at his side jarring his arms and damaging the blade.  His screams of fury seem more fear than anger.  It’s too dark to see his face but I already know there’ll be a wild look on it.  He seems too intent, too angered and far too eager as he hacks and swings away with wild abandon.  Both Dave and I shuffle closer getting ready to take action.  Clarence steps down and taps my shoulder, motioning that he’ll take over from the skinny lad.

‘Steven, move back,’ he ignores me and keeps swinging out, missing more than he’s hitting and I notice that his strikes are getting more arms and torso’s than heads or necks.  Blowers has to work harder to compensate for the ones Steven keeps missing and it’s not long before they are pressing closer towards us.

‘MR HOWIE!’ Blowers yells in alarm at the sudden surge of bodies pushing forward.  Dave is there instantly, shoving Blowers aside with his shoulder and dropping down a couple of steps to hold a central position.  Holding the torch in his mouth his arms spin out, slashing the blades across throat after throat.  Sprays of hot blood pump out as the bodies sink down to slide down the already wet slippery steps.  He drops down and quickly moves the blade amongst their legs severing Achilles tendons and more bodies sink down.  They use their arms to keep clawing and dragging themselves up but they create a moving obstacle that the others find difficult to negotiate.  Steven, seeing the pause in fighting lunges in front of Dave and starts hacking away at the packed zombies.  Screaming with fury he slips on the wet steps and crashes to the floor, sliding down the stairs until his body impacts on the front of the horde.

We roar in warning and surge down to beat them back but it’s too late.  Teeth are already sinking into Steven’s legs and thighs.  He screams with agony and tries beating them off with his hands.  Clarence, Dave and I all work like demons to slash down, hack at them and drive them back.  Clarence, roaring like a bear scoops up a man size zombie that writhes and gnashes in his hands.  The giant man launches the snarling creature down into the front of the horde and the momentum sends them all staggering and falling away.

In the brief pause Dave drops and grabs Steven by the collar, dragging him away from the front as Clarence and Lani take front position, Lani taking up Steven’s fallen axe instead of her meat cleaver.

‘Fuck it,’ I spit the words out as I see the ragged mess of Steven’s legs.  The material has been torn away, flesh is hanging in strips down to the bone.  Blood pisses out everywhere and the poor lad is screaming in agony, begging to be saved and not left to die.  Tom turns away too distraught at seeing his friend dying.  I quickly draw my pistol from my belt and fire a single round into his skull blasting the back of his head off.  Looking up I see Dave, Blowers and the rest staring at me before turning back to the matter in hand.

‘Blowers, keep Tom at the back.’

‘Got it.’

‘I’m okay Mr Howie,’ Tom shouts in the darkness but there isn’t time to discuss it and I look down to see Clarence and Lani forced to give more ground, moving steadily back towards us.

As the stairwell turns into an ever decreasing circle so the steps become narrower until only one can stand out front battering them back.  Likewise they can only send a few cramped zombies forward at once but they do send them.  They keep sending them.  They send more and more and we rotate our turns and swing our axes until our chests are heaving from the effort and our arms and shoulders are on fire and every few minutes we are forced to move back.

Some of the zombies take up the tactic they showed downstairs and use the dead cadavers as shields to hide behind while they charge up at us.  Slowly at first then more and more of them try it until every zombie that comes up is somehow holding a dead body in front of it.  The end result is the same but it takes far more effort and wastes vital energy hacking into corpses that are already dead and we give more ground until we’re getting onto the first landing.

Someone hands me a bottle as I step back from my turn and I first pour the water over my sweat soaked skin before gulping it down quickly.  No jokes from Cookey now.  No banter or defiant shouting.  This is messy, draining hard work and our low energy levels are dropping by the second.  I realise I can see better and looking round I see a window set into the side of the wall with bright moonlight shining through.

‘Get the shotguns ready,’ I call out, ‘someone break that window and see what it’s like down the bottom.’  Cookey uses the shaft of his axe to beat the glass out and I hope to hell it falls down and slices Darren’s face off.  He rakes the shaft round clearing the shards away and sticks his head out.

‘How is it?’ I shout over to him.

‘You don’t want to know,’ he ducks back in, ‘fucking loads of them down there.’

‘Still?’ Nick asks.

‘We’re only killing a few at a time,’ Dave explains.

‘Fuck…’ Cookey says, ‘fuck…’he repeats and like the rest of us he shrugs it off and stands up ready with his shotgun.

‘Ready,’ he shouts and strides over to the top of the stairs.  We join him and shout for Clarence and Lani to fall back.  Lani goes first, ordered by Clarence.  She scoots through and drops down with her chest heaving.  I pick up a bottle of water and go to hand it to her but she’s dropped down on her hands and knees breathing hard.  She’s fit enough to run for miles but swinging a heavy axe has clearly drained her.

‘You’re doing well,’ I say quietly.  The first of the shotguns fires, followed by more and the sounds of the guns breaking open and fresh cartridges being shoved in.

‘Rest for a minute,’ I twist the lid from the top of the water bottle and use one hand to lift her chin up while I pour water gently down her face and then the back of her neck. She breathes with her mouth open and even in this light I can see she looks flushed.  She turns round to rest with her back against the wall and I hand her the bottle, ‘drink and rest for a minute.’

‘Thanks,’ she says softly and presses the bottle to her lips.  Standing up I see Blowers and Cookey looking down with concern.

‘She okay?’ Cookey asks.

‘I’m fine,’ she says her voice as strong as ever.

‘Well get back down and fuck ‘em up some more then,’ Cookey retorts and gets a middle finger in response from Lani.

We rest for a minute or so, using the shotguns to blast them back down and when my turn comes I watch with satisfaction as the power of the weapons stands true and blows their heads apart.

‘They’ve stopped,’ Nick shouts as he aims his unfired gun into the darkness.  We gather round and stare down, looking at mangled bodies but nothing else.

‘Get ready to move back,’ I say quietly guessing Darren is gathering a load to send up together and press the attack.

‘MR HOWIIIIEEEEEEE,’ my guess is right as his mocking tones bounce up the stairs to me.

‘Smithy, how are you mate?’

‘Er…its Darren now please Mr Howie,’ he yells back.

‘Oh is it…’

‘Yeah it is…how are you doing up there? We got one didn’t we?’

‘Just the one so far Smithy, not that good considering how many we’ve killed.’

‘Oh I’ve got plenty more yet.’

‘Have you now…tell you what Smithy, why don’t you grow a pair and come up yourself? Me and you Smithy, no weapons, just me and you.’

‘Yeah right! What and that little cuntrunt Dave is just going to stand and watch?’

‘They won’t do anything Smithy, you have my word.  Come up and we’ll end this.’

‘Oh Mr Howie…’

‘You’re a fucking coward Smithy.  You send all these things to do something you’re too scared to do yourself.’ I bellow down.

‘FUCK YOU…’ He screams in utter rage.

‘NO DARREN…’ a female voice yells

‘Get off me Marcy; I’m not a fucking coward.’

‘Yes he is…’ Cookey shouts.

‘Marcy? Is that your name? I saw you earlier.  I’m Howie, it’s very nice to meet you Marcy.’ I keep my tone very polite knowing it’ll wind him up.

‘Hello Howie,’ a sultry voice floats up and I look round to see Blowers and Cookey smiling, eyebrows raised.

‘So you don’t want to send Smithy up then?’ I ask.

‘No,’ she answers simply.

‘Well how about you then? It’s not too late Marcy.  You’ve picked the wrong side.’

‘Thank you Howie but I’m fine where I am,’ a hint of humour in her voice, ‘er…I don’t have to call you Mr Howie too do I?’

‘Of course not, so how’s this going to end Marcy? When will Smithy realise we won’t stop until every one of those things is dead…including him.’

‘Oh Darren won’t lose Howie,’ her sultry husky tones sound out, ‘maybe you should come and join us…I would like that very much,’ her voice drops to an even more sultry tone and I just catch the sound of muffled voices.  Darren getting angry at her overtly flirtatious manner.

‘Well….that’s a very kind offer but I will have to pass.’

‘That’s a great shame Howie…we could have gotten to know each other better.’

‘True, tell me, seeing as you can talk and think the same as before.  Why stick with Darren? Come with us and maybe we can find a cure.  We’ve got doctors and equipment that can help you.’

‘Well now Howie…if I came up those stairs and surrendered myself to you, your lovely boys would kill me instantly.’

‘No they won’t Marcy.  I promise you.’

‘But how would you know I wouldn’t bite you Howie…would you tie me up?’ the tone she inflects is so downright flirty that my mouth drops open in surprise, looking round I can see most of the others are the same too, apart from Cookey who is grinning like a Cheshire cat and loving every minute of it.

‘Come up here and try it you rancid diseased whore,’ Lani’s voice booms down the stairs to the shock of everyone else. ‘And it is Mr Howie to you…bitch.’

‘Oh Howie…got yourself a lady friend.  Is that the girl with the dark hair I saw you with? She is very pretty…for an Asian girl that is.’

‘You said we couldn’t use racism.’

‘Shut up Darren,’ Marcy snaps back in a harsh tone.

‘Yeah shut up Darren,’ Cookey mocks, ‘do as you’re told there’s a good boy.’

‘Was that her idea to wear those trousers like that Smithy?’ Nick shouts down.

‘Fuck off Nick,’ his voice screams up which sets the lads laughing.

‘Yeah Nick…fuck off,’ Cookey mocks again in a camp voice while I look at Lani in puzzlement.  She glances round to see me staring and smiles, giving a faint shrug of her shoulders, ‘Sorry but I didn’t like her,’ she says quietly.

‘No, don’t apologise…its fine.’  Dave slips behind me and draws my pistol from my belt.  Silently he starts creeping down the stairs with the handgun and torch held out in front of him.  He looks round at Cookey and motions for him to keep going.

‘Smithy…How many boy zombies have you bummed so far?’

‘Fuck you Cookey… I’m not Blowers.’

‘Ha, Blowers even the twat super zombie knows you like bumming,’ Cookey laughs.

Dave reaches the bend and quickly darts round, switching the torch on and firing down with quick successive bangs.  I hear the sound of bodies falling and more scrambling to move away.  Dave finishes the magazine and climbs back up.

‘Almost but he was covered,’ Dave shakes his head as the horde suddenly start charging up with a nasty snarl.

Back to work we go.  Using the shotguns to drive them back but quickly giving ground as they really press the attack home.  Within seconds we’re across the landing and round the next bend at the start of the next flight of stairs.  Each one of us works to re-load and fire as quickly as possible.  We get constant kills in and with every gun firing twice I know we must be culling their numbers, little by little but at least we’re doing it.

‘Hand weapons,’ I give the order to switch seeing the narrower stairwell on the second flight and knowing it’ll be easier to hold them back.  Taking first stand I ready myself as they pour across the landing and sweep round the curvature.  Axe ready , I swing out chopping the first one down and lifting the double blade up and into the groin of the next one.  They both tumble down and I slam down into the next one making it fall into the heap of the other two.  The next one uses the heap of bodies as a spring board and launches itself at me.  The axe catches him mid-air and slams him into the wall but I have to give ground in case they keep doing it.  More kills and I swap round when my arms start to feel jaded.  Taking it in turns we hack and kill, slowly reducing their numbers.  The minutes tick into hours and we slowly rotate, giving ground slowly but surely.  Drinking water and breathing hard every time we take a break.  Lani insists on taking her turn again and stands out front with determination and sheer guts.  Swinging the axe with all her might and chopping them down one after the other.

I hand her a bottle of water as she drops back to let Clarence take over and she gulps it down after giving me a quick smile.  All of us, well maybe apart from Dave, feel the fatigue kicking in.  Tiredness starts creeping into our limbs and any conversation we have is stilted and abrupt.  Tom takes his turn quietly and fights with passion, clearly using the time to give vengeance for the loss of his close mate.  Then it’s back to me and I take my glorious axe and stand in position.

The first one comes charging in with a howl, drooling lips pulled back to show me his yellow stained teeth.  As I slam the axe down into his head something snaps in me.  The righteous glory of battle descends and I feel my limbs come back to life.  Just as they did at the end of that big fight when I was on my knees.  Each swing of the axe seems calculated and intense.  Every slash takes one down and I’m already eyes up watching the next one come.  The pressure builds in me and I roar my defiance out.  Screaming into the darkness I kill them quickly.  We’ve been giving ground since we started but maybe we should take a bit back.  I step down and repeat my killing blows, watching undead after undead drop before my eyes.  My eyes that paint the target for the axe.  The axe that is as much a part of me as my heart.  My heart that beats pure clean blood and sends me down to do battle with these filthy spawning creatures.  Every step I take down is a victory for mankind.  They keep coming but my movements get faster and faster until I am one with my weapon.  Slicing left, right, up, down.  Each one a killing blow.  My feet are firm and my steps do not falter and I take back the ground we gave to them.

Time ceases to flow.  Everything is paused as I descend into the bowels of darkness.  I don’t need light to show me the way.  I don’t need anything but what I am right now.  In this holy place I feel strong, powerful yet strangely humbled.  Humbled that I have been allowed to use this gift in such a way.  They come at me harder and faster than ever before.  They surge and lunge.  They gnash their teeth but I smile at them.  I show them a death full of grace and pity but one delivered with brutal honesty.  Still they come and still they die and still I keep moving forward.  I hear nothing but the sound of the axe moving through the air.  I see nothing but the target in front of me.

The landing.  I move across the landing and tread firmly over the bodies already downed.  The stairwell is wider here and I give thanks that I can stretch my swings out and move with more room.  I plough on.  Nothing exists.  Time and space are a memory, a thing of inconsequential nothingness that doesn’t belong in this place.  Left. Right. Up. Down.  I kill and they die.

Back at the top of the landing I feel a burst of strength and my movements become even faster and I clear them away with such speed that it all seems too slow for me.  Then suddenly there’s a gap and I’m standing at the top of the landing staring out of the window at the bright moon.

‘Drop back Mr Howie,’ Dave pulls the axe from my hands and takes my place at the top of the stairs. I do as instructed and move back.  Everyone stares at me, mouths hanging open and eyes wide.  I feel tired now. Bone weary and tired but I feel peace within me and I take the bottle of water that Lani hands me and drink the cool satisfying liquid down.

‘Thanks, that was nice,’ I hand the bottle back and she stares at me with a puzzled expression.  I look to my right and see Clarence watching me too, he is shaking his head and a small wry smile forms on his mouth.

‘That’s twice you’ve done that now boss,’ he rumbles.

‘Ah well, I fancied a change of tactic for a minute.’

‘Fuck me Mr Howie…I hope I never piss you off,’ Cookey says with a look of such awe that it makes me feel uncomfortable.

‘Nick, have you got any smokes mate?’

‘Yeah sure, hang on,’ he drags a packet out from a pocket and taps one out, hands it to me with a lighter.  Once lit I inhale and lean against the wall with my back to everyone else.  The sense of peace is stunning.  A tranquil soothing sensation that comes up from deep within me, but leaves me so tired and weary.

‘Here, I was saving this but you can have it…I think you might need it,’ Lani hands me a bottle of coke.  I smile back and twist the cap off before taking a big gulp of the wonderfully sugary fluid.

‘Ah that is bloody nice,’ I hand it back, ‘pass it round, I think we all need some.’  There is a yell from Dave and suddenly we’re moving back from a fresh attack pressed home by an incredibly fierce load of undead.

Driven back we slowly ascend the stairs as this new lot drive forward with an as yet unseen level of violence.  These must be the best ones that Darren was holding back.  They look less decayed than any other zombies I’ve seen.  The only visibly injuries are just small bite marks to their necks.

‘I think you’ve pissed them off,’ Blowers yells as he fights like a demon himself.  He slams his axe back and forth but we’re driven further back and up the stairs.

We start using shotguns firing from underneath the person out front such is the desperation of their attack.  Firing and re-loading and still giving ground.  Higher and higher up the narrowing staircase we go, twisting round and round.  Clarence takes over at the front but the restricted space makes it hard for him to move easily.  He fights for a few minutes still being pressed back.

‘We’re at the top,’ Lani shouts.  Glancing round I see the moonlight shining down onto the stairs.

‘Fall back and get ready to close the door,’ I shout loudly and the others swiftly obey, running up into the clear air.  Staying right behind Clarence, Dave and I guide him backwards until he suddenly flattens himself against the wall and Dave takes over, using his knives to good effect in the confined space.  With short, sharp slashes he kills them one by one.  Leaving Dave to hold the stairs I stagger out into what I was hoping would be lovely cool air but instead feels far too warm and muggy for the middle of the night.

Leaning over the chest high railing I look down and see a few bodies dotted about but not too many.

‘Cookey, are there less than when you looked earlier?’  He leans over and examines the grounds round the bottom.

‘A lot less Mr Howie,’ he grins that infectious grin and drops back down.  The platform skirts the square shaped tower in a narrow walkway.  There are no other exits so we have to hope and pray we can hold them off.

‘Just a couple more hours and it’ll be getting light,’ Blowers stares out at the darkened town and the orange glow coming from the fire raging in the distance.

‘If we get out of this I’m going straight down to the beach to cool off in the sea,’ Nick sighs and wipes the sweat from his face.

‘I’m up for that mate,’ I reply.

‘That’s after the cooked breakfast with loads of toast and coffee,’ he adds wistfully.

‘And fresh orange juice,’ I add to the dream and regret it instantly as it makes the reality taste as sour as it really is.

‘Who is going after Dave?’

‘Er…Mr Howie…’ Tom says suddenly with a tone of urgency.  I join him leaning over the rail and staring down at the ground.  At the dark figures standing around something that flickers and flares brightly.  Then more of them flare up until there’s a row of bright things.  My tired eyes take a few seconds to send the images to my brain for processing and what I’m looking at banishes all tiredness within a split second.

‘Mr Howie they’ve pulled back again,’ Dave yells through the door.

‘I bet they have…they’re gonna burn us out.’ I shout back.  With alarmed yelps  everyone rushes over to look down.  The flaming things, whatever they are get carried towards the church and out of view.

‘They’re setting the church on fire,’ Clarence says, his voice calm and natural.

‘Options? We can fight our way down or try and wait it out,’ I race round the walkway peering over the side.  The tower is high and it would mean instant death to jump from here.  The tower is joined to the main building but that’s still a good 15 feet below us and the roof is sharply angled.  A wrong landing and we would just slide down the side and fall into their laps.  The only option is to go back down the stairs and fight our way through the horde and out into the open.  Unless Darren has pulled all his zombies back and left us a clear exit which is not likely.  Not likely at all.

‘Here Mr Howie,’ Nick calls out.  He is shining his torch over the side, ‘thick drainpipe,’ he points, as I rush over to him.’ That should hold our weight.’ The wrought iron drainage pipe is bolted to the wall and must be strong if it’s to take all the water from this roof.

‘It might hold Dave and Lani, maybe us but definitely not Clarence,’ I reply.

‘It might do Mr Howie, I’ll try it,’ Nick clambers up to the ledge and starts easing himself over the other side.

‘What’s he doing?’ Clarence joins me looking down and I tell him about the drainpipe.  We watch as Nick leans down and starts tugging on the pipe, then holding his weight with both hands he rests his foot on it and slowly shifts his weight.

‘It’s not moving,’ he stares back up.

‘Okay, get back up mate, Clarence can you pull that wiring down’ I point up to the thick electric cable snaking round the tower and providing a power supply to the lamps positioned to illuminate the spire at night.  With his bare hands Clarence yanks one end from the lamp and follows it round snapping it free from the wall connectors.  The rest gather at the railings looking down at the drainpipe Nick points out.

‘Dave are you okay?’ I yell through the door.

‘FINE,’ Dave bellows back and I can see he’s holding ground and not given an inch yet.

‘They’re setting the church on fire trying to burn us out.’

‘ARE THEY? OKAY MR HOWIE.’ Nothing fazes that man.  I could have told him Darren had an atomic bomb he was detonating and the response would have been the same.  Back outside I watch as Clarence ties one end of the cable to the railings and drops it down to rest by the drainpipe.

‘I’ll go first,’ Lani says confidently, ‘I’m the lightest by far so let me try it.’  A whooshing sound reaches our ears and we crane over the side to see strong light now coming from the broken windows, illuminating the grassy area surrounding the church.  Without another word Lani tightens the straps on her bag and wedges Steven’s axe down the back of it before climbing over the railings.  Grasping the electric cable she starts lowering herself down.  Rapidly dropping hand under hand and lowering herself into the darkness.  Nick shines the torch down and we watch as she runs out of cable before reaching the bottom and switches her hands onto the drainpipe for the last few feet before she drops nimbly onto the roof.  Smiling she gives a thumbs up.

‘Blowers, you go next and provide cover in case anything happens down there.’

‘On it,’ he copies Lani, shoves his axe down the back of his bag and climbs over the railings.  With a grim smile and nod he takes the cable and starts lowering himself down, switching to the drainpipe as the cable runs out and dropping down onto the roof.  Nick follows them, repeating the actions and straining with the effort of holding his weight on the thin cable.  He takes longer to swap from cable to pipe but eventually with a thud he too drops down.  Tom then Cookey go down easily enough until there’s just me, Dave and Clarence left.

‘Dave, we’ve found a way down.  There’s an electric cable and drainpipe running down the side of the tower onto the church roof.  There’s just me and Clarence to go, the rest are down already.’

‘I’ll hold them here Mr Howie, you go and I’ll catch you up.’

‘Dave, when Clarence shouts you start coming.  Got it?’

‘Got it.’ He continues his killing spree which has slowed down remarkably from either him killing them all or because the fire is raging too much to send anymore up.

Outside I stuff my axe down into my bag and climb over.  Taking the cable in my hands I copy what the others did and start lowering myself down.  The cable bites into my fingers and hurts but it’s just thick enough to grip and I use my feet to scrabble as I steadily get lower.  The cable runs short as I’d seen with the others and I reach out to grasp the drainpipe which holds firmly and within a few seconds I’m standing on the roof with one foot either side of the apex.

‘Feel the roof Mr Howie,’ Cookey urges me.  I drop my palm down and feel the warmth radiating through the rough tiles and the strong smell of wood smoke reaches my nose.  Glancing over I can see plumes of smoke starting to waft from the empty windows.  Clarence’s huge bulk straddles the railings and he starts dropping down much faster than the rest of us did.  He’s either very experienced at doing this or he’s shitting himself that his heavy weight will snap the cable.  At the same point as us he reaches over and shifts his weight from cable to pipe and continues his downward journey.  A popping noise sounds out and a bolt falls to land between my feet, rolling off down the side of the roof.  More follow as the drainpipe creaks under the heavy burden of Clarence.  With a few metres still left to go it breaks free from the wall and swings down with Clarence still attached.  He manages to get his feet underneath him, ready to try and land properly but the force of his weight sends him straight through the tiles.  The others burst away desperately trying to avoid being crushed.  Scorching heat rushes from the hole in the tiles and I crab forward to see Clarence clinging onto the drainpipe edged over the hole he made, his feet dangling above the raging inferno below him.

‘Hold the ends of the pipe,’ Shouting out I grasp one end and watch as the others snake over to stop it sliding off.  Clarence does one mighty pull up and starts levering himself up, grabbing the sides of the roof and not risking his weight on the pipe any more than he has too.  We grab at his arms and backpack, pulling his enormous weight out from the hole.  The heat is intense and I can feel my face sweating already.  The drainpipe starts to shift and slide as the edges of the hole crumble and give way.  We dig in and with shouts of pure effort we inch him out bit by bit.  The hole gets larger as Clarence strains and wrestles to get his upper body out enough to swing his legs up.  Gradually he gets out and lies panting for a few seconds.

‘Are you hurt?’ I start to check his legs for burns but other than feeling hot there doesn’t seem to be any damage.

‘I’m okay,’ he rumbles back, ‘did Dave get down?’ On hearing his words we all look up to see Dave dangling from the cable with one hand and patiently waiting for us to stop pissing about.  Clarence springs to his feet and grabs the drainpipe, clenching it between his muscled arms he leans it against the wall just to the side of Dave.  Blowers and Nick brace Clarence as Dave nimbly swings out and starts a quick descent down the pipe, placing one foot on Clarence’s bald head he slides down his back to land with a wry grin.

‘Sorry about your head Clarence,’ he says flatly as ever.

‘No you’re bloody not,’ Clarence rubs his smooth head grumbling away to himself.

‘Time we weren’t here,’ I mutter quietly and start walking along the apex one foot either side and heading for the far end.

‘They’ve seen us,’ Dave bellows, well if they hadn’t they would have bloody heard us that’s for sure.  ‘I’ll go first,’ Dave adds.

‘Piss off, you’re not having all the fun,’ I reach the end and look down.  Too high to jump but I spot a grassy bank a couple of feet out from the end.  Turning round I plant my arse on the tiles and draw my axe from behind me.  Letting myself slide down the now very hot tiles I reach the lowest point and jump down to land heavily on the top of the grass bank.  The axe falls from my grasp as I land and I don’t have time to go for it before the first of the undead lunge at me.  Fortunately only a couple have made it round this end so far.  I charge at him and slam my forehead into the middle of his face.  Pain explodes behind my eyes but it does the trick and we both go down with me landing on top of him.  My fists reign down smashing the shit out of his head before I jump back and draw the pistol from my belt.  He’s up instantly and I fire several times into his face then lift the pistol and fire at the next one coming.  He drops but more are behind him and coming fast.  Dave drops to my side and instantly draws his knives.

‘Get your axe,’ and he’s off charging them with a deep roar.  Changing magazines I re-holster the weapon and scoop my axe up before racing forward and joining my friend.  We stand together hacking them down as more of our group slide down the roof and land heavily on the top of the bank, sprawling out with yelps of pain.  A shotgun blasts out to my side and I see Blowers quickly re-loading and firing again.  His shots hit home and burst heads apart as Dave spins about killing anything that moves.  Cookey joins him, then Lani and more until we’re back together.

‘Which way Lani?’

‘Downhill please...’ Nick begs.

‘We need that road,’ she points to a junction off to the left and we start moving that way.  Forming into a small circle we lash out as the horde keep charging at us.  Blowers, Cookey and Nick use their shotguns for several minutes but even in the dark I can see there are still plenty of undead left.

We keep moving and pick the pace up to try and stop them getting round behind us.  They charge forward but their attacks are sporadic instead of concerted.  Still we keep on as the church burns brightly behind them, flames licking out of the windows.  They start to get co-ordinated and several attack at once.  But with experience on our side we hack them down with our axes.  Swinging out and gouging deep into their flesh. Killing with every few steps we take.

Reaching the junction we start moving downhill but that just gives them momentum in their charges and I can feel the weight of their bodies with every strike I make with my axe.  My arms are burning and my legs shake and weaken with every step.  I can sense everyone is feeling the same and the only thing that keeps us going is the fear of letting each other down.  That and the bloody minded stubbornness of refusing to roll over and die quietly.  They race past us and start trying to lunge in at the sides but for every desperate zombie face that tries to gnash and bite there is a dead zombie falling to the ground with its head cleaved open.

Grunts of effort emanate from behind me and then I realise that I’m doing it too.  Making noises like a tennis player going for an ace serve.  Looking across I see even Dave is starting to look tired and his normally pale face is flushed red which just makes him look angrier than normal.  Clarence stumbles from a powerful swing and almost staggers out from our tight circle.  Undead rush him but Dave springs out and slices them down as the big man rights himself and falls back into the round.

‘That’s for stepping on your head,’ Dave shouts and even his voice sounds hoarse.  Clarence doesn’t reply but focusses on the same thing we all are.  Staying alive and keeping motion.

We battle all the way down that bloody street.  Leaving a trail of broken and mangled bodies in our wake but still they come.  Darren must have pulled them from the church and kept them safe.  Safe and waiting for us so he can grind us into the ground.  But he doesn’t do that.  For some miraculous reason our strategy works, using axes and shotguns we’ve stayed alive and even if we die now we’ve killed hundreds and hundreds of them again.

‘Sun,’ someone croaks and I realise it’s now much lighter than before.  The only hope we’ve got of surviving is if they drop back when the sun comes up but Darren must see how exhausted we are.  That we’re ready to drop.  The sky lightens as we head further down the hill, closer and closer to the beach and pier.  They drop back, keeping pace but holding off from attacking and I can sense a change coming.  We increase our speed not knowing where we’re going or why we’re going faster but it gives us a sense of purpose and something to aim for.  More undead gather into their front ranks and we realise they’re massing for a final attack.  Preparing themselves for an offensive manoeuvre intended to finish us off.

There, further up the hill I see Darren and that woman, pacing a safe distance behind their zombies and holding them off until greater numbers can stagger forward and join their horde.  Dave and I both see him.  We see that thing that has created all this death.  Shotgun blasts sound out as the lads take advantage of the pause to get a few shots in.  They do good work and whittle a few down.  Cookey presses his pistol into Dave’s hands and the small man fires one handed getting a head shot nearly every time.  He passes it back and another one is handed to him, he fires again, dropping more and suddenly their numbers are reducing.

‘Go into them,’ I roar and change direction.  We start pacing forward letting Dave fire pistols and taking the advantage away from them.  Shotguns blast and the pistol fires.  They die in numbers they can’t afford to lose.  The last remaining energy in my body surges into my muscles and we press home the attack.  Darren realises we’re killing too many and he sends them in.  One final battle and we fight.  We fight hard.  Our power is low and every strike or swing hurts more than anything ever imaginable but we stay on our feet and swing out with everything we’ve got.  Clarence stumbles again and drops his axe, they charge but he raises his fists and starts punching out keeping them at bay.  One of Dave’s knives leaves his wet hand stuck in the skull of a falling zombie but he presses on with one last blunt knife until it becomes nothing more than a useless tool and like Clarence he ditches it and takes to using his bare hands.

My axe flies back and forth, lifting high and slamming down but I feel weaker with every second.  Another swing but it gets caught mid-air in the strong grip of a female zombie, still fresh looking with hardly any decay on her yet.  She pulls the axe clean from my hands and I draw my pistol and fire point blank into her face.  She drops down and I pick my shots, taking time to hit the skull.  I have to keep stepping to avoid being taken.  My pistol clicks empty and I start using it to hammer into their faces.  I punch and gouge and writhe like a bastard to avoid their dirty teeth.  My knee rises again and again into stomachs and groins, lashing out in a filthy street brawl.  I start to get overwhelmed until Lani lashes out with her meat cleaver, driving them down and saving my life.  I see a house brick nearby and pick it up.  It becomes my new weapon as I slam it into the face of anything that comes at me.

Circling round I see my axe nearby and run to scoop it up, throwing the house brick hard at the head of a zombie about to bite into Blowers.  Axe in hand I carry on swinging round as a glorious broad stripe of orange sunlight hits the pavement.  The rays shine through the gaps in the buildings.  Darren starts to lose control as some of them instantly slow to become the shambling daytime idiots.  Others keep going but the fight is over.  We know it and so does Darren.  For the last few minutes we kill off the remaining zombies in a blur of tiredness that staggers me to the core.

‘FALL BACK,’ Dave’s hoarse voice yells and we start retreating.  Letting the last few come at us instead of wasting our energy.  Forming our circle we retreat.  Stumbling like the daytime zombies now shuffling slowly after us.  Lani leads us down a side street and then back down the hill.  They keep coming but only one at a time now and they’re easy to finish off.  As we turn to start moving down the hill two figures stand at the far end of the street.  Darren and Marcy stand amongst their ruined horde and stare quietly as we back away.

On seeing them I stop moving and stand still, staring back with my axe held down at my side.  The others join me, spread in a line and staring back at the two figures.  No one moves.  They neither come forward nor retreat but stand watching us silently.

‘I want to go after them but I’ve nothing left,’ my voice is low and rough, barely more than a whisper.

‘They’ll run and none of us have the energy to chase them,’ Dave replies but I watch his hands slowly pulling a pistol from his waistband.  He ejects the magazine and quickly glances down to see it’s empty.  ‘I need a bullet,’ he whispers, ‘just one.’

‘Here,’ Blowers slowly digs one out from his pocket and passes it along the chain, hand to hand until it reaches Dave, ‘I was saving it for him.’  Dave gently slots the bullet into the top of the magazine and pushes it up into the pistol.  He slides the top back and chambers the round.  He stands with the pistol lowered and looks at the two zombies standing at the far end of the street.  The distance is huge for a pistol shot.  He holds still for a second before looking up into the sky and turns his head.  His fingers flex on the pistol grip.

‘Which one?’ He asks.

‘Do you need to ask,’ I reply.  He takes a deep breath and slowly exhales then moving with incredible speed he raises the pistol and fires.

A solitary retort sounds out followed a split second later by one of the figures falling to the floor.

Sixteen

The day is going to be hot again.  The air is listless without the slightest breeze.  My rate of breathing has slowed and my heart gradually eases from the frantic work it’s had to do all night.

There is blood on my hands and all down the front of my clothes.  Sticky and moist.  I can feel the wet material clinging to my skin.

Here in this quiet suburban street on the Isle of Wight I look back at the long line of corpses littering the road.  At the top of the hill the church blazes fiercely.  Thick smoke coiling up high into the blue sky.

‘That was a good shot.’

‘It was.’

‘I can’t feel my legs.’

‘Your spine is broken.’

‘So this is it.’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you want me to say sorry and beg for forgiveness?’

‘No.’

‘What do you want?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Then why are you watching me?’

‘Waiting for you to die.’

‘I might not die.’

‘You’re bleeding out.’

‘Am I…oh shit.’

‘Even you can’t lose that much blood.’

‘It doesn’t hurt.’

‘That’s a pity.’

‘She’ll come after you…’

‘I don’t care.’

‘I told her to go after you…she won’t stop…she’s better than me, stronger, clever, cunning…’

‘I don’t care.’

‘You can’t win this Howie.’

‘Neither can you.’

‘She’s got my blood and everyone she bites will have my blood.’

‘I don’t care…they’ll die just like you are now.’

‘I’m tired.’

‘You’re dying.’

‘Feel so….tired now…’

‘Die then.’

‘…I’m scared…I…’

‘Die quietly.’

‘Howie….please…’

‘What Darren? What do you want?’

‘Oh god I don’t want to go like this…’

‘Close your eyes Darren. Let it take you.’

‘No…please…’

‘Let it happen…’

‘I’m so sorry…I’m sorry Howie…oh god I’m so sorry.’

‘Me too Darren.’

‘Forgive me…please…’

‘No.’

‘Please…I…oh shit…I’m going…’

‘Darren…’

‘Howie…please…’

‘I forgive you Darren, rest now and let it take you.’

‘Shit…oh shit…I’m bleeding…Howie…’

‘Yes Darren.’

‘H…Ho…Howie…’

‘Yes?’

‘Fuck you Howie…’

He dies with a smile on his face and just to be sure he dies fully and properly, Dave drops down and detaches his head with an axe and kicks it down the road.  Marcy disappeared as soon as we started walking back towards them and with so much death and destruction it’ll be near impossible to track her.  I know because I asked Dave and Clarence.

I feel numb and strangely flat, like I was expecting a fanfare or some divine light to shine down when we finally got him but nothing happened.  We stood in a filthy street and watched a former friend die.  Now, standing round the body I can feel a deep sense of sadness that any of this had to happen.

‘That was a good shot Dave,’ I say just to break the oppressive silence.

‘I was aiming for the head.’

‘What from that distance?’

‘I’m tired so I missed.’

‘Bloody hell Dave you still got him.’

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

‘I’m bloody starving,’ Nick interrupts rubbing his stomach, ‘and I still want that swim.’

‘Let’s go down the hill then, we’ll find some more clothes and food, have a swim and then find somewhere to sleep.  Sound good?’

‘Fuck yes please!’ Cookey replies.

‘Tom, you alright mate?’

‘I’m fine Mr Howie.’

‘You did well mate…sorry about Steven.’

‘Thanks,’ he nods back but his face remains expressionless.

‘Lani, you too, you did well.’

‘Cheers,’ she smiles once, bright and gorgeous, ‘can we go please, I’m hungry too and I desperately need to wash.’

‘Yep, fair one.’

Seventeen

We head down through the deserted town centre.  Walking slowly in the beautiful morning.  No one speaks.  All are absorbed in their own thoughts and utterly exhausted. I wonder if Tom and Lani would have come if they had known just how bad it would get.

She takes us to a cheap clothes shop with the windows already smashed in and we each grab clean tops, underwear, socks and a mixture of jeans and cargo trousers.  Lani grabs a bikini from the shelf and makes it known that she will not be swimming in her underwear and that if anyone tries to swim naked she will shoot them.

‘Does that include Blowers?’ Cookey asks, ‘seeing as he likes boys and not girls.’

‘Cookey fuck off,’ Blowers retorts with a shake of his head.

In a café we find tins of baked beans with mini pork sausages in them.  Our hands are washed and scrubbed in the kitchen, using copious amounts of detergent to rinse the filth off.  Eating straight from the tins with our axes stuffed down our bags we stroll down the hill, throwing the empty tins straight onto the ground and using the single tin opener we found to open more and stuff the contents into our mouths as quickly as possible.  Reaching the esplanade we stare down the road at the blackened still smouldering buildings.

Finally on the beach we ditch our kit and start stripping off, the mood lifts slowly with idle banter being thrown back and forth.  Lani makes Clarence stand with his back to her and holding a huge towel she got from the shop, she ducks round and changes into her bikini telling Clarence to make sure no one tries to sneak a peek.  He stands like a protective bear glaring at the lads laughing and daring him to have a quick look.  They fall silent when she steps out.  We all do.  The violent toughened zombie killer stands looking demure and breath-taking in her simple black bikini.  I have to look away and busy myself with undoing my boot laces otherwise I would happily sit there gawping all day.

‘That shut you up,’ she laughs, ‘so is a girl going to be the first into the sea,’ she starts running as the lads shout that they’re not ready yet.  Ditching clothes as they run, they sprint down the beach and into the water, leaving me Dave and Clarence wondering where they got the energy from.

‘Dave, you not coming in?’ I ask as he stands there still dressed.

‘I don’t like the water,’ he shakes his head, ‘I’ll keep watch here.’  Clarence and I stroll down slowly.  Enjoying the already warm sun on our bare torsos.

The water is cool and refreshing, sending shivers through our tired bodies. The laughing eases as each person relaxes and lets the salt water cleanse them.  Ducking heads under and rubbing our hair, faces and bodies to rid them of the encrusted dirt.  Lani swims over to me as I float on my back my arms and legs making occasional small movements to keep me afloat.

‘I’m guessing we’ll need somewhere to rest for a few hours,’ she asks.

‘Yeah, the pier looks good,’ I nod towards the long black structure stretching out into the water just a short distance away.

‘Okay…’ her voice trails off suddenly hesitant.

‘What’s up?’

‘Is it okay to come with you?’ she asks quietly.

‘Bloody hell Lani,’ I laugh gently, ‘I just assumed you would be, of course you should come.’

‘I didn’t want to just think it was okay.’

‘You’re one of us now Lani, a hardened killer of zombies…one of the elite,’ I laugh again and she smiles back, a huge grin that suddenly makes me nervous again.

‘Thanks for last night,’ she says.

‘Eh?’

‘When you poured water on my face and made me rest, thanks for that.’

‘Oh no worries…er…yeah…no problem…anytime.’

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah fine…should probably get out now,’ I sink down and come up treading water and blinking the sea from my eyes.

‘Mr Howie you get funny sometimes when you talk to me.’

‘Do I? I didn’t notice…’ She smiles again and I curse myself for feeling the blush starting in my cheeks.  She notices and laughs with delight and a sudden realisation.

‘Don’t laugh,’ I groan.

‘You’re blushing…its sweet.’

‘I’m not blushing…it’s the sun.’

‘Oh okay Mr Howie,’ she laughs again.

‘It’s just Howie.’

‘Everyone calls you Mr Howie.’

‘I know right…bloody Dave started that off.’

‘I can’t call you Howie; it’ll be weird in front of the others.’

‘Well just when we’re alone then.’

‘Alone?’ She raises her eyebrows and smiles as my cheeks burn from the even deeper blush I can feel spreading across my face.

‘Ah bollocks you know what I meant, stop teasing me.’

‘You alright boss your face is very red,’ Clarence says as he swims over.

‘Er…yeah it’s the sun and I’m…er…knackered…time to get out I think.’  As I swim away  the surreal nature of it all hits me again.  Tiny nuances of conversation, slight inflections of voice, a raised eyebrow, it’s all part of our confused existence.  Give me zombies to kill any day, Dave’s got it right.  Ignore anything that you don’t understand.

A few minutes later we’re all dressed in clean clothes and leaving our filthy garments in a pile on the sand.  Lani leads us from the beach having made Clarence hold the towel out for her again and I’m grateful that she’s out of that bikini and into normal clothes.  We start walking up the long pier, the lads joking around for the first few minutes until the tiredness creeps back in and we walk in silence.

At the end Lani leads us through the ferry terminal buildings to a café with one huge glass wall giving an amazing view of the bay and the town, and better still we can see the length of the pier.  I split the group up and we search the buildings and rooms before gathering back in the warm room, Blowers and Cookey return with armfuls of big heavy winter coats used by the ferry and pier staff.  Heavy benches are stacked against the double doors and we finally start settling down.  Dave offers to take the first watch and promises to wake me after an hour.

Too tired to protest I rest my head on my back pack and stretch my weary limbs out, resting on one of the big jackets.  A backpack drops down near to my head followed by Lani kneeling down to smooth out a couple of jackets.  There’s plenty of space here and I wonder for a brief second why she’s chosen to lie down so close.  My eyes start to droop as I ponder the need people have for closeness and contact.  A lone female amongst a group of men she barely knows, terrified and having lost everyone she knew in a world that’s changed and become instantly dangerous.  No wonder she wants to be near someone.  Someone she senses she can trust.

As my eyes close and sleep starts to pull me under I feel a small hand touching mine.  I open my palm and our fingers entwine.  Gripping hard for a second I squeeze back, letting her know it will be okay.

Then I’m gone.

DAY TEN

One

Day Ten.

Sunday.

Laying on his back and resting on his elbows Nick squints from the strong sunshine pouring through the plate glass windows of the café at the top of the long pier.  Bathed in sweat he exhales slowly and looks over to the sleeping form of Blowers, amazed at how within the thirty seconds since he nudged him awake to take his turn on watch he has managed to get to his makeshift bed and drift off.  With the lure of sleep threatening to pull him back under Nick reluctantly sits up and stretches his hands down to his feet.  His hamstrings feel tight; his back muscles feel tight; his arms and just about every muscle in his body feel tight.  With a low groan he clambers to his feet and stands with that sleepy fug hanging on his face for long seconds before rubbing his eyes and stretching his arms out to the sides.

The last two days have been relentless.  Running, fighting, hardly any sleep, crap food, the risk of death at every point and then Lani making them sprint up that bloody hill too.  Remembering the hill sprint Nick tenses his thigh muscles and winces at the onset of pain already starting to spread through the deep muscle.

With a yawn he twists round and visually checks the sleeping forms around him.  Clarence’s huge bulk flat on his back and snoring away like a walrus with a sinus problem.  Blowers and Cookey, like he was just a minute ago, are both sound asleep.  Dave, as in his wakeful hours, sleeps quietly on his back with his hands crossed over his chest.  Two knives, one either side of his bedding, rest on the floor ready to be gripped and used.  Nick notices that Dave has positioned himself between Howie and the entrance.  Anything that enters must go through him first.  Tom, the new lad curled up on his side facing away from him but he can tell from the steady rise and fall of his upper body that he sleeps soundly.  Nick was unsure about Tom and Steven to start off with.  Afraid somehow that the bond they had built up between them would be weakened.  Steven was lost in the church fight and that’s something Tom will have to deal with.  Just as Nick had to when they lost Tucker, Curtis and Jamie.

Finally his eyes come to rest on the prone figures of Howie and Lani.  Sleeping close together and Nick notices their hands are entwined.  The sight of them lying hand in hand invokes a sudden feeling of unity, closeness, family.

The fractured society of broken family values saw Nick, as with many young men of his age; grow up without a role model.  Without that alpha male to guide them and see them through the hard times.  In his school days Nick had Miss Rachel, his special needs teacher.  An immensely passionate woman who taught Nick that just because he couldn’t read or write that he wasn’t useless, that he was still a person with values and a voice.  The tuition was close and exceptions made, the use of her first name instead of surname helping bridge that gap between teacher and student.  It was Miss Rachel that encouraged Nick to develop his love of anything electrical and mechanical.  Miss Rachel would even bring broken things in and ask Nick to see if he could fix them, but only after he’d tried a few minutes of reading out loud.  With her steadying influence and the patience she showed, Nick developed as a person and saw that maybe he wasn’t just destined to get labouring work here and there.  But when the school years ended, Nick struggled with the day to day life without that support and quickly became one of the many young men attending the job centre to sign on.

It was the scheme to earn extra benefit and join the Territorial Army that saved his life. He remembers holding the pen over the form and trying to decide if he should sign up and thinking back to the kindness that Miss Rachel showed him and knowing this was his chance to do something different.

Meeting the other lads, and then ultimately Howie gave him something he hadn’t experienced before.  A life.  A belonging.  His skills had already been used several times and not one of them judged his inability.  He’d stood on the line with these men in the most utterly terrifying of situations but Nick wouldn’t change any of it.

Howie fills that role as mentor, leader, and a father figure of immeasurable kindness.  Brave isn’t a strong enough word for how Nick regards Howie.  His ability and never failing courage.  Howie would willingly give his life for any one of them to have the chance for survival.  That intense look in his eyes and that quiet dark brooding nature, the fire burning away in his soul that drives them on to do things Nick never thought possible.  Nick fancied Lani when she came into the group.  They all did.  The beautiful Thai girl became part of them within a few hours and already Nick couldn’t imagine her not being there.  She fought bravely with strength and courage, never failing to take her turn.  Now, watching her lie hand in hand with Howie fills Nick with a sense of something, something he can’t explain.  Just that it’s right.  That’s all.

He quietly opens the rear door leading out onto the outside decking area.  The air outside is cooler than the humidity of the enclosed room so he wedges the door open with a patio chair and scans the view.  Thick black smoke still plumes from the church fire deep in the town, smaller wisps of smoke spiralling up from the long row of burnt out houses along the seafront.  The rest looks serene and peaceful.  Golden beaches with the blue waters gently lapping at the shore.  The houses look clean and homely.  He turns slowly soaking in the view while he pulls a battered packet of cigarettes from his pocket and taps one out.  Despite the air being still he still cups the flame of the lighter and inhales the smoke into his lungs.  Feeling the rough bite in his dry throat and coughing gently.  Exhaling the smoke he looks out following the shore line to the harbour in the distance and the long line of dark objects moving slowly into the sea.

It takes him several seconds of staring dully to realise what he’s seeing.  Boats moving away from the harbour.  Lots of boats.  His heart quickens and his face lights up with the excitement of seeing their group getting safely away from the Island.  He throws the cigarette into the waters below and runs back inside, calling out and watching as sleepy forms become suddenly awake forms, leaping to their feet and grabbing weapons to slay whatever foe that has dared to disturb them.

‘The boats,’ Nick coughs, his voice as yet unused since he woke up, ‘boats from the harbour,’ he points to the windows.

The group hastily move out onto the decking and lean against the railing watching with smiles and low cheers at the flotilla of vessels moving safely away.

‘Dean kept his word then,’ Clarence stretches his mighty arms and leans his bulk against the railing which creaks in response.

‘He did,’ Howie nods with a huge grin, ‘he bloody did! Well done Nick, good spot mate.’  Howie grins at the young lad.  The others turn to smile and clap him on the shoulders like it was Nick’s own work that got them away safely.

‘Does that mean we get the day off Mr Howie?’ Cookey asked with a mischievous grin.

‘Well I don’t know about that,’ Howie replied scratching his head, ‘but maybe a few hours to relax before we move off.  What’s the time?’

‘Just gone two,’ Nick replied checking his watch, ‘and I’m bloody starving.’

‘Again? We only just had food you gutsy bugger,’ Blowers says.

‘That was hours ago,’ Nick replies as he lights another cigarette and hands the pack round.  Standing there and with the first good news in days they relax against the barrier, lounging in patio chairs and re-living the night’s events.

‘Tom, how are you mate?’ Howie asks after nodding to the young policeman to step away to the side.

‘I’m good Mr Howie,’ Tom nods back quietly.

‘Listen, I’m sorry about Steven.  He was a good lad and it was bad the way he went like that…’ Howie speaks gently, knowing Tom saw him fire his pistol into Tom’s head as he lay dying.  The injuries were too bad for survival and Howie couldn’t risk another Darren coming back.

‘I know, you had to do it,’ Tom looks back into the dark eyes of Howie, holding his gaze for seconds and showing that he understands.

‘For what it’s worth mate, I’m glad you came with us.  You fought well Tom and I don’t know how we would have got through it without you.’ Howie meant the words too.  Tom had fought well and even when Steven fell he didn’t allow himself to falter but pushed on with the same savage ferocity as the rest of them.

‘Mr Howie…’ Tom asked with a sudden puzzled expression, ‘last night when you pushed forward in the tower stairwell…how did you do that?’ He stared hard into Howie’s face watching the sudden dark look creep into his eyes, that power, that hard stare.

‘I don’t know mate,’ Howie replied suddenly with a wry smile, ‘it just sort of happens.’

‘Happens?’ What you mean you’ve done that before?’ Tom asked.  He, along with the rest, stood and watched in rapture as Howie took the front position during the desperate battle to hold the stairs.  When they were being beaten back and losing more ground than ever before Howie changed.  His whole manner and being became fluid.  Not like Dave, the way he moves like a dancer with grace and agility, but something else.  A power poured from Howie and it was like the undead just fell before him.  Every strike was where it should have been.  Every step saw them wilt and fall away from him.  An electric feeling passed through all of them and Tom felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.  Witnessing something extraordinary.

‘Ha! You can tell you’re a copper Tom,’ Howie smiled awkwardly, ‘I don’t know mate.  It just happens.  Right, there must be some coffee round here somewhere, fancy one mate?’ Howie deflected the question and his easy smile meant no offence was taken.  The rules had changed and whereas just a few days ago Tom would have stood his ground and questioned the man regarding his ability, now he was just glad to be with him.  Glad to be with all of them.  What he saw during that night was a unity that even the police never matched.  The way they watched each other, pulling each other back and covering the weak points.  Tom heard them say they were used to fighting alongside each other and now he understands what that means.  The easy jokes, the banter and the ready smiles they keep flashing even when they were so massively outnumbered.  Dave, the small quiet man that Tom and Steven already held in awe taking on the role of sergeant to Howie’s officer.  Blowers like a corporal, stepping in to take the lead whenever needed.

‘Oi Tom, do you fancy a smoke mate?’ Cookey called out.  Tom turned to look at the group seated round a large table and saw Blowers motion to an empty chair in the middle of them.  Lani already seated and smiling from a comment made by Nick.  A small gesture but one of great meaning.  An acceptance into the group and with a quick smile of his own he walked forward to sit amongst them.

Blowers watches Tom speaking as Cookey goes to sit down in the chair next to him.  Blowers blocks the seat quietly and gets a puzzled look from Cookey in return, he nods to Tom indicating the chair is for him.  Cookey nods in understanding and takes the next one alone.

‘He did well,’ Cookey says quietly.

‘Yeah, shame about Steven,’ Blowers replies.

‘Shame about all of them,’ Cookey says with a sad look at his friend, ‘what now?’

‘Eh?’ Blowers snaps his mind back to the present.

‘What now?’ Cookey repeats, ‘back to the fort?’

‘Probably…’ Blowers nods.

‘Okay,’ Cookey says softly.

‘What?’ Blowers picks up on the tone of his normally jovial friend.

‘Nothing,’ Cookey hesitates, ‘I dunno, I just kind of like this.’

‘How do you mean?’ Blowers asks.

‘Us, you know, just us lot being on the road and doing stuff together.  Shit, sounds weird like that.  I’m not saying I like it…like the whole end of the world thing but you know…being together like this.’

‘Feels safer?’ Nick cuts in leaning across Lani sat next to him.

‘Yeah like we know what we’re doing…shit it doesn’t make sense when I say it but I know what I mean in my head,’ Cookey screws his face up in concentration, ‘it’s like…well…’ his voice drops along with his gaze which stays fixed to his boots, ‘family or something,’ he mumbles expecting a torrent of abuse from Blowers and Nick he feels the first flush of shame burning his face.

‘Me too,’ Nick adds quietly with his own uncomfortable shuffle in the patio chair, ‘I wish Tucker was here and Jamie and Curtis.  Especially Tucker…I miss his food.’ Lani smiles with sadness at the lads around her.  She can feel the close bond between them.  And from what they said there was quite a few before the big battle at the fort they came from.  Now down to three but they protect each other like brothers under the watchful eye of Howie.

‘They were the best,’ Cookey adds in a muted tone, ‘Oi Tom do you fancy a smoke mate,’ he calls out seeing Howie move back inside and Tom left standing alone.

‘I don’t smoke,’ Tom smiles and moves over to the chair nodded at by Blowers, ‘thanks for asking though mate.’

‘No worries, so you were a copper then? How long were you in for?’ Cookey asks with a genuinely interested look.

‘That must have been a hard job,’ Nick asks before he can answer, ‘’I’d have loved to have been a policeman.’

‘Why didn’t you join up then?’ Tom asked.

‘Can’t read or write,’ Nick shrugs with a smile to show he’s over any form of embarrassment about it.

‘Really?’ Lani asks in surprise.

‘Yeah, severe dyslexia and well I just didn’t really bother at school…’

‘He’s bloody good at electrical stuff though,’ Cookey cuts in, keen to defend his friend from any shame, ‘he got Tower Bridge in London all rigged up…do you remember that?’ He laughs at Blowers.

‘Jesus that was brilliant,’ Blowers laughs at the memory watching Nick smile sheepishly, ‘the bridge splits in two right, so we had this massive horde coming at us and we were getting pinned down so Nick here, he goes into the control room and gets the thing working…’ Blowers breaks off laughing hard, more so because of Cookey starting to crack up… ‘he gets one end going up and down like this,’ he imitates the bridge with one forearm, ‘and this horde were coming over it so Nick waits until they get there and whoosh he lifts it up and they go flying… then he drops it down and waits for them to all stack up against the end of the other bit and whoosh it goes up again….funniest thing you ever saw.’

‘And he got the petrol pumps going at that garage,’ Cookey says wiping tears of laughter away.

‘Oh those rats,’ Nick shudders, ‘nasty.  You remember that bloke on the roof?’

‘Oh that was bloody funny too, we drove off with his trousers on the Saxon,’ Blowers starts off again as Cookey bends over with his stomach hurting from laughing.  Lani and Tom laugh as Blowers launches into a descriptive replay of the memory.

‘Jesus,’ Tom says after gaining control of his laughter, ‘you done some things you lot.’

‘We have,’ Nick nods slowly, ‘we’d have been dead many times though if it weren’t for Mr Howie and Dave.’

‘That roof we were saying about,’ Blowers cuts in, ‘well Mr Howie got isolated on his own downstairs.  We were surrounded and it didn’t look good, rats and zombie filth everywhere.  The Saxon was out in the car park with the big machine gun on the top.  So Mr Howie decides…on his own…to charge the lot of them and make it to the Saxon so he can cut ‘em down and save us…’

‘Dave though,’ Cookey takes over, ‘Dave thought the same thing and wanted to save Mr Howie,’ he leans in speaking quieter, ‘he ditched his guns and screamed “Blowers you’re in charge” and launches himself off the roof, straight into the lot of them…only had his knives he did,’ he leans back shaking his head in wonder.

‘Christ,’ Tom exclaims, ‘so Howie charged them from the bottom and Dave went from the top…and they didn’t know what the other one was doing?’

‘No mate, they both figured one of them had to survive to protect us and get to Mr Howie’s sister.’

‘Fuck…’ Tom whispers, ‘last night when he did that thing… you know…going at them like that, so he’s done that before then?’

‘Yeah a few times,’ Blowers answers looking uncomfortable.  Tom picks up on the slight shift in position and the quiet looks between Blowers, Cookey and Nick.  ‘What?’ Tom asks, unable to restrain the instinctive policeman habit of asking questions.

‘Nothin’,’ Nick shrugs and lights another cigarette.

‘No Nick, what?’ Lani presses the question home having also picked up on the subtle looks between the three lads.

‘I dunno, that fight outside the fort…he…well Mr Howie he sort of did something weird and…’

‘What?’ Tom asked quietly and could see the now overt shifting and fumbling between the lads now.

‘Well he got beat down,’ Cookey explains, ‘we all saw it,’ he looks to Blowers and Nick both nodding in confirmation, ‘we we’re fucked, I mean completely fucked.  We were getting slaughtered and there was so many of them…I think Curtis went down first, maybe Tucker…I don’t know anyway we we’re losing.  Badly.  Mr Howie gets beaten down and we knew we’d lost it, we’d given them a bloody good hiding but it was over…’ his voice trails off at the vivid memory playing through his mind.  The sounds of screaming and the constant growling and roars of the undead as they pressed the attack again and again, the smell of blood and guts being spilled, the fear and the exhaustion.

‘He was on his knees,’ Nick picks the tale up with a distant look, ‘Mr Howie on his knees crying, he kept trying to get back up but he was done for, Dave was off somewhere and the rest of us were getting the shit beaten out of us.  We all saw it,’ Nick suddenly looks up at Blowers and speaks with a firmer tone, like he wants confirmation too before he carries on, ‘Mr Howie was down…but then he changed.  He started praying to himself and then got back up…his face,’ Nick shakes his head, ‘his face was…’

‘It was different,’ Blowers cuts in, ‘he got back up and he was saying the Lord’s Prayer, his voice got strong, so loud and we all heard it.’

‘Were you close to him then?’ Tom probes for the details.

‘No I mean we all heard it, everyone on that field heard it.  Every man fighting heard that prayer coming from him… We all took it up and seeing him rise up, he was like a Viking warrior or…something from a movie…they wouldn’t go for him…like they were scared or something, Mr Howie he just stood there and they cowered back…then he went for it.’

‘Like last night?’ Tom asked.

‘Yeah, like last night,’ Blowers replies, ‘him and Dave were something else.  Relentless.  Ruthless.  And Clarence…mate he is so bloody strong.’

‘Yeah I watched him,’ Tom replied.

Lani listens intently as the stories are relayed.  The lads giving the funny and heart breaking accounts of their time together.  Like the others, she gets that tingling hair on the back of the neck feeling at the memories of the big fight re-told.  That quiet and softly spoken man with the easy smile, holding her hand when he could have easily pulled away or shifted position.  She saw his discomfort when they were swimming this morning, how his face blushed when she made the joke about calling him Howie when they were alone.  That same quiet man who held a field of undead at bay with a dangerous glint in his eye.

Her family came from Thailand when she was very young; moving to a strange country that was so wealthy but with such fractured family values.  Her own family kept them close and raised her with discipline and love.  Nurturing where parents should, guiding and proving that hard work and dedication paid off.  She knew her parent’s had to work so hard to get anything for those first few years, dealing with the stereotypes and prejudice of a mainly white population.  Her own strong mix of conflicting values meant she often felt neither here nor there.  Isolated from her traditions of her country but still not a complete part of the local society.

The utter terror of being left alone for those long days and longer nights.  Hearing the undead howling as the sun went down and knowing her family and friends were all taken, that they would kill her without remorse if she got caught.  She spent days sobbing and crying, hiding in fear as she grew filthier and more hungry.  Then when she couldn’t take it anymore she went out to find them.  Going to her friend’s house and finding him turned, she got trapped and where she thought she would freeze in fear, she didn’t.  She fought back and killed.  Then killed more as she battled her way out of the building.  The adrenalin surge left her shaking and trembling from head to toe but in that instant she changed.  A switch had been clicked inside her.  She no longer cried and although she still felt the same fear, it was coupled with a burning rage and desire for revenge.

She became cunning, and when she saw her hiding place had been smashed and entered while she was away she knew that if she fixed it the people would see and come back.  But knowing they had already entered and found nothing she figured it would now be the safest place.  Then, when Howie and Nick came in, she heard the movements and thought they were the undead.  Going out to exact that vengeance she froze on seeing two armed men standing just feet in front of her and inwardly cursed her own stupidity.  Lani’s mind was resolute and firm.  She knew men found her beautiful, an exotic difference from the mostly pale taller girls of the country.  She also knew that men would try and take that beauty if they found her.  She’d decided that if that happened she would fight to the death but suddenly seeing two men there, armed with guns, hard stares and dressed like mercenaries she didn’t feel so brave.

Lani watched them speaking, she took in the friendly tone Howie used and the way he backed off and told Nick to do the same.  As they went to leave her instinct told her to go after them and take the chance.  She did and now looking back, perhaps that split second decision has given her the best chance for survival.  Who knows what will happen, she may die any minute.  Any one of them could.  But here with these men she knows she stands the strongest possibility of living.

Howie and the way he gets nervous round her when they’re alone.  He’s sweet and something inside her is drawn to him in a way she hasn’t felt before.  Strange times though and strange behaviours.  She felt foolish when they woke, for having the need to hold his hand and showing a weakness but now, sitting amongst these people and feeling secure for the first time since this began she relaxes and enjoys the sunlight, but still glances frequently into the café to watch the man with the curly dark hair.  He’s mid conversation with Dave and Clarence, he turns, smiles, she feels her heart skip a beat and she smiles back, then chuckles softly at seeing his blush even from this distance.

Inside the café Clarence and Dave stand together with Howie, making plans while drinking warm water from bottles left in their packs.

‘I’m just saying I think they need a few hours to unwind boss, it’s been relentless the last few days.  They’re young and they’ve done everything you’ve asked of them…’ Clarence rumbles in a conversational tone.

‘Yeah, I guess so,’ Howie nods back.  The urge to press on burns inside but where to? He has accomplished what he set out to do.  Saved Sarah, dealt with the threats along the way and got the women and children from the fort safely back across the water.  There could be threats on the other side waiting for them, but as Sarah and Sergeant Hopewell repeatedly said, they have to be able to take care of themselves and the sea captain will probably take them straight to the back of the fort too.  The constant pace.  The sheer desperation of each day and now, with what he can only think of as down time he feels twitchy and like there should be another mission, another task waiting.

‘Let’s get some coffee going and see what food we can find,’ Clarence adds.  Even he feels tired after the nights ferocious fighting.  He’d happily push on without complaint if the need arose, but he also knows, after many years’ service, that taking time to unwind is as important as anything else in times of extreme combat and stress.

Clarence chose to come with Howie knowing they would need good experienced fighters in order to stand the best chance of getting to the women and children, and of course Sarah.  At the fort big Chris accepted his decision and he set out, intending to assist and then get back to work alongside his former comrade.  However, Clarence had watched the way Howie and the lads fought together as a tight unit.  They sheer courage they displayed was at times, unnerving and reminded him strongly of how he, Chris and Malcolm had been when they were young and fresh recruits.  After the last two days of being with them constantly, Clarence, as with the others, now felt an unbreakable bond.  When he slipped from the roof climbing down from the church tower, he faced certain death from the fire raging beneath him.  But those lads and Lani risked their own safety to save him and that took something far more than courage.  It was unity, comradeship and every decent value that was drummed into him as a young soldier.  Seeing Howie’s quick reactions, his constant state of mind and ability to take information in, process it and reach a decision even in the harshest of situations had continually impressed Clarence and he felt himself slipping into calling Howie “boss”.  A word used by soldiers towards their ranking officer when out in the field and the need for such rigid formality wasn’t so important.

As the two days went on, Clarence felt Howie’s natural authority coming through and now he understood just why these men followed him

‘Dave, you happy with that?’ Howie asks.  He glances out the window at Lani smiling at him and feels the blush starting instantly, quickly turning back to Dave in the hope they don’t notice.

‘Yes Mr Howie,’ Dave nods with a blank expression.

‘Right, that’s settled then.  Chill out here for a few hours and get some rest.  I’ll go break the good news,’ he strolls out the door into the sunlight and smiles as the group turn to watch and start getting to their feet, ready to move out.

‘Relax,’ Howie waves an arm at them, ‘we’re staying here for a while so we can relax and unwind.  Personally I was ready to go find another horde to piss off but I reckon I’ve been outvoted so…’ his voice drains away, lost in the sudden cheers erupting from everyone seated at the large table.  Smiling he gives thanks that someone like Clarence has the experience and knowledge to impart at such times.

‘But…we still need a constant watch on and keep your weapons close at all times, got it?’

A round of grinning affirmations come straight back, “yes sir” and “yes Mr Howie”.  Shaking his head and still wondering how he came to get stuck with being called Sir and Mr Howie he grins back and leans against the rail.

‘We need food though,’ he muses.

‘Mr Howie, I saw some rods in the office when we searched earlier, we could have a go at catching fish,’ Cookey asks, ‘if we did it from here we could keep a watch on the pier too.’

‘Good idea mate, crack on and catch us some dinner then.  Nick, I need your special skills,’ Nick looks up with a sudden keen interest in his eye, already excited at whatever challenge awaits.  ‘Is it possible to rig that coffee machine,’ Howie points into the room at the shiny coffee maker on the counter, ‘to a car battery? If not then how would we get power to it so we can brew up?’

‘There’s some car’s in the car park on the other side Nick,’ Blowers informs him needlessly.

‘I’m on it Mr Howie, just the coffee machine or anything else?’ Nick already on his feet and squeezing through the chairs, cigarette hanging from his mouth.

‘Coffee first, definitely coffee first but see what else you can find.’

‘Ha, I’ll need a hand…’

‘Im fishing,’ Blowers replies quickly, relishing the prospect of a few hours idling with his feet dangling off the pier’s edge.

‘Tom, you any good with car’s and stuff?’ Nick asks.

‘Yeah I’ll help mate,’ Tom gets up to follow Nick into the café.

‘You can’t smoke in there,’ Cookey suddenly shouts after Nick as he walks towards the counter with his cigarette in his mouth.

‘Oh shit, I forgot,’ Nick turns and jogs quickly back to the open door.  Stopping as realises what he’s doing, ‘you twat Cookey,’ he shouts and goes back inside making a play of puffing away while he walks through.

‘Tom, that’s illegal you should nick him…Ha, get it…nick him...Nick?’ Cookey laughs to himself, feeling not the slightest embarrassment at the stony faces refusing to humour him, ‘oh well I thought it was funny.  Right let’s get them rods,’ he nods to Blowers.  The two lads setting off through the café shouting abuse at Nick and Tom as they pass.

A silence descends outside as Howie and Lani both realise they’re alone.  Nodding slowly they both look at each other.  Neither speaks.  Nervous stares.  Slow smiles start to form and they both burst out laughing, releasing the small tension that built up within those few seconds.

‘So we’re alone,’ Howie says, ‘you can call me Howie now.’

‘Well in that case you should call me Miss Lani then.’

‘Miss Lani? Sounds like an Italian sausage,’ Howie laughs, ‘okay it’s a deal Miss Lani.’

‘Thank you Howie,’ Lani replies with perfect politeness.

‘So you okay then?’ Howie asks softly.

‘Fine, er…thanks for last night with the hand…thing,’ she bites her bottom lip and smiles coyly; suddenly aware that maybe she didn’t need to mention it.

‘Ah, yes that’s er…er…fine…yeah really…anytime…’

‘Anytime?’ She asks quickly.

‘Well you know…maybe not anytime...but…’

‘So not anytime?’ She cocks her head to one side watching him seriously and trying not to laugh at his nervous stuttering.

‘Well no of course anytime…you know…anytime you want a hand…ha a hand! No I meant that not a hand like helping you with something, though obviously I can help you with things if…if you want…but I meant…as in a hand to…er…well…hold…’

‘Howie,’ she laughs, ‘I can’t believe you’re so nervous round me.’

‘Oh bloody hell,’ he laughs at himself, ‘I’m always like it round beautiful women.’

‘So I’m beautiful then?’ She carries on with the merciless teasing but the jokey question is clearly loaded for an answer.

‘Shit I walked into that one didn’t I…’ Howie grins as he runs a hand through his thick hair and drops his eyes down to the floor, ‘Lani you are very beautiful,’ he says softly and looks up with a sudden smile.  Amazed at himself and that never in a million years would he dream of telling someone as beautiful as Lani that she was beautiful simply for fear of dropping dead with embarrassment and knowing it would sound cheesy coming from him.  But his polite tone and clear nerves convey the gesture with meaning instead of being corny and clichéd.  ‘Lani! Are you blushing now?’ Howie chuckles with delight at the tinge of redness in her cheeks.

‘No, it’s the sun!’ she grins back at him showing her white even teeth, laughing the blush away she reaches up to take her hair band out and runs her fingers through her long silky hair.

‘Oh the sun is it?’

‘Okay so it wasn’t the sun.  So Howie, what task have you got for me?’

‘Eh, for you?’

‘Well Nick and Tom are going to rig up the coffee machine, Cookey and Blowers are fishing so what…’ she fixes him with a steady mischievous eye, ‘are you going to do with me?’

‘Oh you can’t ask it like that,’ Howie groans.

‘Sorry, I feel mean for teasing you.  I promise I’ll never do it in front of the others though,’ she says earnestly.

‘Okay,’ he replies, ‘thank you.  Er…I’ve no idea.  We’ve got to sort the kit out, see what ammunition we’ve got left. Get some food sorted, and work out a way of getting back I guess.’

‘Right, well I’ll come with you then,’ she gets up quickly as Howie gives thanks for her easy confident manner saving him from a certain death of stuttering like a drunk Hugh Grant.

Two

Day Nine

Saturday.

‘Look Geez you gotta pay up innit,’ Maddox shouted up at the house from the street.

‘I’m not paying for being in my own house now piss off,’ the man leaning out of the upstairs window of the semi-detached brick built house shouted down to the gang of youths.

‘You is on the Bossman’s land now geez,’ Maddox shouted in reply, his deep voice resonating in the still warm air.

‘Look I’m not afraid of a bunch of kids so piss off.’ The man shouted down. Red faced with a balding head and a stocky muscular build from spending the last twenty years as a builder alongside hard men, and he wasn’t easily intimidated, especially by a bunch of hoody wearing teenagers.

‘Or what?’ Maddox shouted back.

‘There’s no feds now bruv,’ Ryker interrupted to a chorus of jeers and cat calls.

‘Feds? What? Fuckin’ kids,’ the man slammed his window shut and disappeared out if view.  Maddox, after giving an irritated glance at Ryker waited a full five seconds before giving the order;

‘Brick it,’ he shouted and watched as the crew started throwing missiles at every window in the house.  The downstairs had been boarded up from the inside and the door looked barricaded too.  The Bossman had said to look for the houses that were boarded up as it meant they’d have supplies.  The strict instruction given to tell the survivors they were being taxed for protection and to give up half their food.  Ryker and his crew had found this house and soon reported back to Maddox; the Bossman’s number two and in charge of the street security taxing operation as he called it.  Maddox had tried reasoning with the man but he clearly didn’t want to oblige with paying his due, so his house got bricked to start with.

Shouts and jeers from the teenagers screaming as they threw rocks, house bricks and anything else they could find.  Windows of the first floor imploded and shouts of rage brayed out from the man inside.

‘Enough,’ Maddox raised his hand and listened with satisfaction as the missiles ceased, all apart from one thrown by Ryker, another act of defiance to be dealt with later.

‘Oi Geez?’ Maddox shouted, waiting for the balding man to slowly peer over the window sill, ‘your house is fucked up blood, and we’re gonna fuck it up some more if you don’t give us your stuff.’

The man peeked over the sill then dropped back down staring in fury at the glass fragments strewn about the floor.  ‘Little fucker’s,’ he growled.  Seething anger boiled up inside him as he stormed down the stairs holding a baseball bat and started undoing the many new locks fitted to the door.

‘He’s comin’ out bruv,’ Ryker shouted.

‘Yeah I can see that,’ Maddox shouted back as the front door burst open and the apoplectic middle aged man stormed out holding the bat out to one side.  Sniggers and laughs sounded out in derision as the teenagers started their mocking.

‘Fuck off…just fuck off now you little cunts,’ the man shouted holding the bat out pointing at Maddox and then sweeping along the row of kids all with their hoods up despite the high heat.

‘Look at you old man,’ Maddox said.

‘You want some do ya? Ya fackin’ want some?’ The man waved the bat round in wide circles and glared back.  A gang of scrawny teenagers with skinny legs and skinny arms, dressed in baggy tracksuit trousers tucked into their socks, hoods up or baseball caps pulled down, not one of them could be over seventeen years old, never done a day’s work and just sit about smoking weed all day probably.  He wasn’t about to be scared out of his home by a bunch of kids.  The zombies were bad enough and he’d taken pleasure in killing a few of them getting supplies back to his house and then some more that shuffled along when he was boarding up the windows and doors too.

‘We is keepin’ the streets safe bruv,’ Maddox shouted, ‘we’re the feds now so you got to pay innit.’

‘I ain’t givin’ you shit boy?’ The man said with a sneer.

‘Boy?’ Maddox flared, ‘listen old man, you pay up or we will fuck you up…we want your stuff’

‘My stuff?’

‘Half your supplies or we gonna fuck you up bad.’

‘Come and get it then...boy,’ the man sneered goadingly.

The Bossman had warned him about people like this, and Maddox had met a few over the last few days.  But the Bossman also made it clear that a dead survivor can only pay once, whereas a living survivor would keep paying.

The teenagers were itching to start and Maddox knew he only had to give the word and this old man would be done for.

‘Bunch of fuckin’ nigger kids, paki’s and cunt Muslim’s. This ain’t your estate…so fuck off.’

Silence descended as the insults embedded into the young ears.  Maddox paused for a beat then growled ‘Have him.’

Within seconds the front garden was littered with bricks and stones launched by the youths.  The man dodged a few and made a few quick steps back to his door before a well-aimed shot to the back of his head brought him down quickly.  Bleeding and seeing stars he stood back up shaking his head and grasping the bat tightly.  The youths moved in, drawing batons taken from the zombie police they had taken down, sticks, chains and knives gripped by the hands of teenagers advancing en masse.  The man, realising the missiles had stopped, foolishly stood his ground.  Bringing his bat up to shoulder height with a two handed grip and watching to see who would be first to come at him.  One good shot to a head would scare these little shits.  Crack a skull open and they’ll be running off quicker than anything.

But they didn’t go at him one at a time.  These youths, almost feral from years spent running riot and living on council estates knew their greatest strength was in numbers.  Young, quick moving and with no remorse they acted like a pack of hyena’s and converged at once.  Chains whipping out and striking the man across his back and legs as he swung the bat out wildly.  Hit after hit, strike after strike, chains whipping and limbs being struck as the youths darted in and out quickly.  All the time laughing and mocking the old man.  He fought desperately and felt the sudden danger of his situation.  With a much bigger build and years of strength behind him, he correctly predicted this would be over in seconds, but not who would win.

He staggered back to his door, confusion adding to the shock produced by his muscles after being repeatedly struck by blunt edged weapons.  On shaking legs and with arms barely able to lift the bat he staggered drunkenly.

The first knife came from a boy barely into his ‘teens.  A thin blade shoved deep into his side and quickly pulled out as the boy danced back laughing wildly at the first blood being spilled.  The man stumbled from the agonising pain in his side.  Another knife plunged in and whipped away.  As the man dropped to his knee’s screaming in pain the pack descended, knives lunging, bats striking and chains whipping his skin.  Within seconds he was dead.  A bloodied mess of cuts, bruises and livid welts, flowering spots of blood spreading across his light coloured t shirt from the knife wounds.

‘Yeah we fucked you up blood,’ one youth danced over the corpse, spitting on the dead man’s face.

‘I’m gonna t-bag him,’ another one shouted and crouched down to rub his groin over the deceased’s face, ‘this is where it’s at mofo,’ he laughs with high pitched childish delight as his mates bend double at the sight.

‘Get the stuff,’ Maddox calls out with a firm tone.  The youths burst into the man’s house, smashing the inside up with screams of joy.  Bats and sticks creating havoc as they rampage through the rooms, destroying everything in sight.

‘Ryker,’ Maddox called to the youth and nodded his head for him to come over.  Ryker stared back with defiance and then slowly walked over, dropping one leg down to limp in full gangster style.

‘Where you at bruv?’ Maddox asked him.

‘I is right here innit,’ Ryker stared back.

‘Why you dissin’ me in front of the crew Ryker?’

‘It’s all good Maddox,’ Ryker replied, ‘I didn’t mean nuffin.’

‘We’s the feds here Ryker, get it? We make the rules now and they’s got to see I’m in charge,’ Maddox points towards the house, clearly indicating the youths inside, ‘I’m in charge out here so don’t fuck wiv me bruv, you get me?’

‘Yeah it’s all good,’ Ryker repeated dropping his eyes from Maddox and shuffling from foot to foot, showing submission.  Maddox held his hand up which Ryker took in a quick firm grip, leaning in to bump chests before moving off with a swagger back towards the house.

Maddox watched as the youths start carrying supplies out, using bin liners and supermarket carrier bags loaded with tinned food, cans, bottles and packets.

‘Alright Maddox,’ a young girl walked up to him, her hair pulled back in a harsh ponytail, large hooped earrings dangling from her adolescent ears.

‘Alyssa what’s up,’ Maddox greeted the girl with a nod.

‘Nuffin, you?’

‘Nuffin.’

‘That old man was buggin’ she smiled with a row of crooked teeth covered in railtrack braces.

Maddox stared down at the girl wearing an open pink hooded top, her push up bra trying to force a cleavage where nature had yet to develop.  Spotty pale skin and chewing gum with loud squelches she stood there shuffling while shaking her head, ‘he got proper fucked,’ she added.  Just like you every-night you dirty sket Maddox thought to himself, nodded back he wondered if the Bossman would be pissed off that they had to kill another one for refusing to pay up.  Maddox, at eighteen and being just that bit older than the other youths, and having already served sentences in Young offenders Institutes had been the natural choice for the Bossman to use as his number two, and it was a position Maddox intended on keeping.

‘It’s well hot,’ Alyssa said with a whine.

‘Take your top off then,’ Maddox replied, instantly regretting it as Alyssa took the words as an invitation.

‘Why, you wanna see my tits then?’ She asked with a stupid grin.

‘No,’ Maddox replied bluntly.  Alyssa’s face fell at the re-buff.

‘Just coz they ain’t as big as Skyla’s,’ she whined again.

With a brief smile Maddox walked off leaving the girl staring after him with a hungry look on her face.  Maddox waited for the crew to come out and told them to start heading back, knowing the stuff should be taken back before anything else happened.

Carrying the spoils the youths slinked away from the house.  Already the conversation had shifted from the life of the human they had just ended to the party to be held tonight, promised by the Bossman for all their hard work in cleaning the area of the dirty infected as he called them.

Survival in the urban sprawl at the best of times relies on wits, being quick and able to go through long periods of suffering.  Skills the youths gathered around Maddox had long perfected.  Each one of them born and raised on the huge council estates built along the south coast, thousands of people from low income backgrounds forced to live in cheaply built low rise blocks of flats and terraced houses.  The estates were really several housing projects added to and developed over the last forty years, a sprawling mess of long residential streets, light industrial units servicing the population, twisting alleys, shops with barred windows, supermarkets, pubs and cheap clothing chains.  Whole communities struggled to survive and get by.  Crime was rife and the police view, along with many other authorities was to leave them to suffer.  With the council only paying the bare minimum for repair the estates festered into graffiti covered walls, houses with boarded doors and windows, front gardens full of broken appliances and furniture.

The youths knew no different, living in social housing with parents and families struggling with their own vices too much to raise their children with any sense of responsibility. Fathers and mothers in prison, brothers and sisters in young offenders or with foster carers, struggling to make ends meet on benefits and turning to petty crime as a way to boost their income.  Drugs use and small scale supply, taking stolen goods, bent gear, dodgy rip offs, everything was fair game.  Good food was rare and these youths grew accustomed to getting by on what they could find.  Frozen snack food bought cheap from the local supermarket value range.  Nutritional value low. Sugar and salt content high.  Bodies became lean and under developed from the poor diets and regular exercise of running from the home owners they burgled, the shop keepers they shoplifted from and the police that didn’t stand a chance of catching them.

Young bodies consuming quick fixes that send them wild with energy.  Rejection from family life meant they grew into gangs roaming the streets with their own hierarchy and rules.  Self-governing and over time any sense of boundaries broke down as they became wilder and more feral.  Alcohol and drug use were common, under-age sex the normal way of life, stealing and petty crime the standard rules of behaviour.

Education systems failed as hard pressed teachers learnt they could either invest a disproportionate time into these youths and stand very little chance of making a difference, or concentrate on the ones that wanted to learn and develop.  Abandoned by society and left to run riot on estates that learned either to tolerate them or move out; they grew hardy and tough.  So when the event happened and everyone else froze with the shock, unable to think, act quickly or defend themselves, these youths carried on life as normal.  Their pack instinct kept them safe.  Fleet of foot and cunning meant they could run and hide faster than the mostly obese population.  The foraging skills honed over years of stealing meant they found food and sustenance.  The normal morale code of society was already separated from them by many degrees.  So to them, life carried on as normal.

The Bossman, having lived amongst this kind for many a year and profiting from the misery all around him, saw a chance of sustaining a way of life.  Deep within the largest council estate the Bossman had been growing an empire by taking over disused industrial units.  When the former owners were hounded out by the recession and the sharp rise of petty crime the Bossman moved in and planted his fortunes.

These units were taken over and adapted into hydroponic factories.  Rows and rows of high yield skunk cannabis plants growing under a systematic set up of Very High Output lamps.  The VHO lights set on timer to achieve the highest potency by giving the plants the strongest light source for the greatest length of time.  The heat meant the plants emitted a strong distinct odour which was sucked away by fans forcing the warm pungent air through long ducts and filters, breaking the scent down before pumping it out harmlessly into the undergrowth outside.

As each unit was taken over they were knocked through with makeshift doors holed into the adjoining walls.  Each section was used for a specific purpose. The nursery where the baby plants were covered by plastic covers and protected during their infancy.  The second growth stage where the plants stood a few inches high.  The third growth stage of sturdy but immature plants.  Through to the final growth of giant bushy plants, ripe with sticky buds and each one standing six feet in height.  A forest of Marijuana, a wooded copse of cannabis leaf, high heat and humidity and the plants were cared for with the same attention as the average tropical garden centre.

The drying area where the plants were cropped and left in a strictly controlled dry environment.  The weighing and bagging section where the plants were cut down and bagged into their sale bags, bought in bulk from the internet and delivered to an address on the estate.  The Bossman was shrewd and maintained a kindly uncle type figure to the youths.  Everyone on this and the surrounding estates owed him in one way or another.  Either on tick for weed they had taken but not paid for, or on money loaned out by him.  When re-payment became too hard they simply started work for the Bossman.  Dealing in a set area or holding large amounts of pre-wrapped cannabis ready to be collected and dealt.  This way they took the risk and no one ever snitched on the Bossman.  Fear of the repercussion, of being alienated and seriously hurt and more because of the constant supply of drugs they relied on.

Nearly every youth ended up running directly for the Bossman, he knew they would easily outrun the police and the penalties would be far less for a juvenile than for an adult and in return they were well rewarded.  Sell more, get more.  Sell a lot and get a lot.  Sales prospered and despite the recession and lack of career options the youths flourished under the Bossman’s watchful gaze.

Always ready to listen to their problems and enforcing discipline through the bigger lads he rarely had to use force himself, but his reputation was well known enough to ensure he was never crossed.

As the world fell, the Bossman moved quickly.  Gathering his youths and moving them into the industrial units he quickly set about fortifying the land.  Stealing flatbed Lorries and raiding garden centres and builder’s merchants he erected high fencing covered with coils of razor wire.  The Bossman already had a small arsenal of weapons, mainly shotguns and rifles but a few pistols too, and his arsenal was quickly enhanced as he led a well-armed raid on the local gunsmiths, looting the place empty.  By late afternoon on the second day of the event, the Bossman had used the newly gained weapons and the flatbed Lorries to raid the local shops and supermarket.  Stripping the shelves and stock rooms bare, stockpiling everything from tinned goods to clothing in the many cupboards and store rooms of the compound.    Now, nine days into the event and the compound was the safest and best stocked place for miles.

Knowing the power supply would end soon, he set about securing solar panels and wiring, setting the panels on the roofs of the units and running the cables down to feed the lights that fed the plants.  The plants that he still used as payment for the youths sent out to rid the immediate area of the dirty infected.  House by house, street by street, section by section the youths swept through, killing everything that got in their way.  At night they hunkered down and prepared to defend their territory but by day they advanced and slowly gained the streets.

As reports of survivors drifted back to the Bossman he realised there was an avenue of earning to be tapped into.  His crews were taking the risk in dealing with the dirty infected and that meant everyone was safer.  If they wanted to live in his area they had to pay so the Bossman introduced the Street Security Taxing Operation and got Maddox to brief the crews to only take half initially and only to take it all if it was obvious the survivor would refuse to pay or if they tried to attack the crews.

Not wanting to take the constant risk of being out on the street himself, the Bossman promoted Maddox as his number two in overall charge.  Then in turn Maddox established crews working in set areas.  Each crew had a crew chief and that crew chief could run their crew as he or she saw fit.

Eight crews each with between ten to a dozen youths and the compound was full, but the method worked better than he ever expected with each crew becoming a tight unit.

Food and water was plentiful, and these youths had already survived years of going without so they didn’t need much.  And by allowing them to get stoned every night meant they were mostly peaceful, apart from the few cases of acute paranoia that caused fights.  Quickly dealt with by the crew chiefs and a punishment decided by Maddox.  The crews worked well alongside each other and were quick to back each other up, moving between areas and sections as the need arose.

Some of the adults that survived the carnage sweeping through the close knit streets tried to barter their way into the compound.  Some, younger and prettier women were taken in on the basis they would tend to the plants, feed the youths and keep the compound clean.  The others were sent away.  If they refused they were removed.  If they resisted they were killed.

It was brutal but it worked.

Maddox led his and Rykers crew back through the estate towards the compound.  Listening with interest as the boys and girls talked about the music they were going to listen to during the party tonight.  Maddox had spoken with the Bossman in his office, suggesting they hold a weekend party to give the youths a chance to blow of some steam.  The Bossman readily agreed, telling Maddox he could sort it out as he saw fit but telling him to keep a few of the bigger lads sober and clear headed to act as bouncers in case of problems.

It was also Maddox that decided who was to provide security within the compound each day.  At first he selected the bigger lads himself but then he put the job down to the crew chiefs to nominate three from each crew to stay back each day.  Those youths were armed with shotguns and given easy sentry jobs on the walls, fences and main gate.  A few more were sent out to stand sentry on the junctions of the road leading into the compound.  Short wave radios sourced from a local electrical outlet were used as a way of keeping constant contact.  The sentry jobs inside the compound were seen as a cushy number and gave the youths a chance to look cool and hard with guns.  The sentry roles out on the junctions were hated as the youths were left isolated and under strict orders not to piss about or go anywhere.

Despite the strange set up, some rules were enforced with instant punishment if breached.  Racism was outlawed and faced severe consequences if used by any youth, no matter what the circumstance.  The strong ethnic mix of the youths meant there was no predominant race in higher numbers.  Religion was as outlawed as Racism and despite many of the youths coming from various religious backgrounds they were told they could worship in their heads but not to anyone else.  Sexist attitudes were gone with nearly as many girls being crew chiefs as boys.  One of the crews, headed by Sierra, consisted solely of girls and had one of the highest kill rates of the dirty infected.

Maddox had worked with all the crews and made sure he got on with all of them.  Everyone had respect for Maddox.  He was fair and easy going; ready to teach the younger kids but renowned for his hard streak and had a reputation for having never been beaten in a street fight.  Well-developed for his age, the Afro-Caribbean lad was stacked with muscle on his lean frame, hours spent in the prison gym, enhanced by high protein and surprisingly, he never smoked weed or took pills.  He was happy to deal it and made good money working for the Bossman, introducing good contacts and steadily working his way up the chain of command even before the event happened.

Upstarts like Ryker were dealt with quickly and Maddox, like any good manager, was quick to spot dissenters and trouble makers.  Taking them aside and addressing the offending behaviour, preventing the issues from developing.  Ryker would be watched from now on.  As a crew chief he was given extra weed and more food, but the last day or so he’d been coming back with more tax than was right.  Telling Maddox that the residents were refusing to pay up so they had to be dealt with and killed.  Maddox suspected Ryker was killing them out of fun, which went against what they were trying to achieve.  Knowing that a family of survivors would keep paying up with whatever they sourced and foraged themselves would be a better future prospect than just taking everything they had now.  A few kills here and there helped spread the word and made the others take notice, but too many would see the residents left on the estates trying to flee and run away.

Today though, Maddox could see they didn’t have any choice.  He had tagged along with Rykers crew himself, to see how they operated.  The big bald man had to be dealt with though, he was the type that would always cause problems for the crews so it was better he was sorted now.

Maddox was irritated that Ryker wasn’t given a chance to show his bartering skills though as he wanted to see how Ryker would deal with a family of survivors willing to pay

Nearing the compound, Maddox, out front and watching intently, looked round for the sentry that should be on this junction.  The chair and table dragged out onto the street for the sentry to use was empty.  Frowning, Maddox held the others up and started walking over to the empty chair as a youth ran out of the nearest building doing the zipper up on his baggy jeans, shotgun wedged under his arm.

‘Ah fuck Maddox…’ the youth said in a panicking voice, ‘I needed a piss.’  The fear was heightened by Maddox remaining silent as he strode quickly at the lad and stopped inches from his nose.  The lad cowered back, clearly terrified and grimacing from the expected punch.  Maddox held his hard gaze for long seconds before turning to face the gathered crew watching with unsuppressed glee at the prospect of a beating.

‘Go on,’ Maddox told them bluntly.  They did as ordered and moved off down the street towards the compound, laughing and looking back at Maddox towering over the child.

‘Zayden yeah?’ Maddox asked not needing the confirmation.  He knew every youth in the compound, knew who their families were, knew what background they had and who they were mates with.  Knowledge was power.  Power got you off the street.

‘You’re with Darius’s crew,’ statement not a question but the terrified youth nodded back anyway.

‘You need a piss Zayden, you piss here.  If you gotta take a dump, you shit here…you get me?’

‘Yeah Maddox,’ Zayden whimpered full of remorse and fear.

‘Don’t be leavin’ your post again, what if the dirty infected got past here? What then Zayden? You’d get fucked over is what.’

‘I know,’ Zayden nodded quickly, fumbling to bring his shotgun from under his arm but not having the room to swing it out with Maddox standing so close, and not daring to brush the gun against Maddox either, so he held it clumsily between his arm and his free hand stretched over.

‘Darius will sort you out,’ Maddox sighed and saw the relief rise Zayden’s eyes as he realised a beating wouldn’t be happening.  Maddox used violence as a tool and despite what many thought, he did not get the sadistic pleasure most of them got from unabated violence.  He grew up hard and with a good skill at fighting, learning to think coldly and not allowing his temper to draw him into making mistakes.  Knowing that with every fight, there was a winner and always a loser.

‘Stay on your post,’ Maddox added before walking off and leaving the youth breathing a long sigh. ‘Also,’ Maddox turned to smile at Zayden, ‘we got the party tonight innit, and I see that Lauren givin’ you the eye,’ Maddox laughed, his features changing dramatically as he flashed his bright white teeth, ‘don’t be fuckin’ up and missin’ the chance to get it on wiv her eh bruv?’

‘No…I swear down Maddox…’ Zayden beamed back almost floating off the floor with the thought that Maddox had seen him and Lauren smiling at each other for the past couple of days.

‘And make sure you bag it up,’ Maddox pulled a cardboard box of condoms from his pocket, launching them at Zayden as he walked off grinning.  Maddox took a few steps, left it a few more seconds and quickly glanced round.  Zayden was stood firm and upright on the junction with the shotgun clasped between his skinny arms.  Giving Zayden a beating would have kept him alert through fear, but ruling through fear alone brought issues.  Issues him and the Bossman didn’t need.  Instead he took the lads fear and made it positive instead.  Letting him know that Lauren fancied him was a finishing touch that put the kid on cloud nine and Maddox knew he’d stand there alert and watchful for the rest of the day.

Striding with confidence Maddox thought ahead to the many tasks that needed sorting.  Prioritising them in his mind as he approached the high solid metal gates topped with coils of razor wire.  Already opened up for Ryker and his crew to enter, the youth allocated the gate guard role for the day waited as Maddox walked in.

‘Alright Maddox,’ the youth nodded, his sweating face peering out from underneath his hood.

‘You’s sweatin’ bruv,’ Maddox stared at the lad and glanced round to see if the boy had thought to drink during the hot day. ‘Where’s your bottle Liam?’

‘Bottle?’ Liam asked in a surly tone then instantly regretted it on getting a glare from Maddox.

‘I told you to make sure you had water, where’s your bottle?’

‘Don’t like water Maddox,’ Liam answered.

‘What did I say happens when you don’t drink?’

‘You said I’d get de-hydrolated.’

‘De-hydrated,’ Maddox corrected him, ‘you get de-hydrated.  Your piss stinks and your cock will shrivel up. D’you want your cock to shrivel up?’

‘That’s fuckin’ gross,’ Liam spat.

‘Then drink some water innit.’ Maddox helped him pull the gate closed and told him to go fetch two bottles from the storeroom while he took watch.  Liam handed him the shotgun before running off through the compound.  Staring round him Maddox took in the view.  The long low rise units stretched off into the distance, open ground all around a mixture of concrete and grass.  The Bossman had secured a good area.  The high fencing stretched round one side with natural high walls bordering the other.  On this side there was the barest signs of living.  A few chairs, sofa’s and odd furniture scattered about for use of the sentry guards.  A wooden shed literally picked up and carried in from a nearby garden served as a sentry hut as the youths rotated on the patrol patterns set by Maddox.  Staring at the land Maddox thought ahead to how he would get the concrete ripped up and seeds planted for food, sustaining their stocks and ensuring survival after the easy months of summer have passed.

To his eye there was a future here, the nearby houses could be converted and taken over, the boundary fence extended and more accommodation gained.  Watching Liam come jogging back with two full bottles of water Maddox thought of how they’d need a clean water supply once the bottles were gone and if the taps ran dry.  The plants consumed huge amounts of water every day and that would need to be sustained too.

Liam handed him the bottle and stood there, unsure of himself as Maddox stared back expectantly.

‘Drink,’ Maddox said the word simply and watched as Liam sulkily screwed the top off and started glugging the clear liquid down.  Within the first few gulps Liam realised how thirsty he was and how refreshing the water felt in his parched mouth.  Greedily slurping it down, some of the water splashing from the bottle from his chin and down the front of his hoody.  Leaning his head back to upend the bottle, Liam drank the contents down in one go, giving a gasp and then a big belch as he pulled the now empty bottle away.

‘Alright?’ Maddox asked with humour

‘Yeah it’s good innit,’ Liam answered with a grin that made him look like the young boy he really way.

‘You don’t have to wear that all day,’ Maddox said, pointing at the dark top worn by Liam.  The boy looked pale and sickly.  Too much weed, too many late nights and not enough decent food and this was another problem faced by Maddox.  The kids had a certain amount of freedom within the compound as long as they followed the rules.  Outside they had their sections to cover but smoking cannabis all evening, eating crap munchies and drinking alcohol would waste them away.  Maddox knew they had to sustain their energy in order to survive, and he needed them to survive so they all survived.

‘I’ll be back in an hour,’ Maddox handed him the second bottle of water, ‘make sure that one is drunk too, you get me?’

‘Yeah sweet,’ Liam nodded already feeling better for the liquid purging through his system.  Walking off, Maddox headed across the concrete, squinting his eyes against the glare of the sun he crossed the end of the first unit, glancing in through the wide metal double doors slid back to reveal the occupants inside.  The first unit had been hastily converted into a day room with sofas, easy chairs, tables and rugs laid out.  The young women taken in to run the compound worked from the day room, running further into the unit to tend the plants and controlling the stores held behind locked doors.  On seeing Maddox cross the doors the few women inside the unit, sheltering from the heat of the plantations and the heat from outside waved and smiled.

Nodding back Maddox walked across the doors and stopped at the corner, facing the wide grounds at the back of the buildings.  Big canvas tents taken from the looted shops covered most of the ground.  At first they had been stuck up in any old fashion, with no thought given to layout.  As the crews were decided, Maddox re-designed the layout so each crew chief had their own tent with the rest of the crew split into smaller ones.  Each crew had a large day tent where they could meet, chill out or do what they wanted when not on duty.

Strangely, after years of rejecting anything to do with home or family, the youths took to the system with eagerness.  The crews worked themselves out, making minor adjustments here and there, keeping the walkway lanes clear and making sure there was a clear and distinct gap between each section.

There was still plenty of open land here, Maddox thought as his eyes swept across the grounds, a huge open bonfire was lit everynight, known as the pit and it gave the youths somewhere to gather round and crash out smoking joints.

Walking alongside the long wall of the units, Maddox made his way across the camp towards the pit, his mind still making mental checklists.  Halfway along he entered the units through a single door propped open.  The pungent smell of cannabis filling his nostrils instantly and the humidity from the watered plants prickling his already hot skin.  Walking through the units he briefly checked each growth stage, looking for any plants wilting or hanging low from lack of water.  The women working their way from plant to plant with hoses nodded, smiled and waved as he walked through.

After several minutes of walking he reached the last unit, this one set aside solely for the Bossman’s use.  Knocking on the door he waited for the invitation to enter.

‘Enter,’ a deep voice boomed out.  Maddox grinned to himself and pushed the door open to see the Bossman sat behind a desk staring at sheets of paper laid out in front of him.

‘Boss,’ Maddox nodded respectfully.

‘Maddox, how you doin’ son? Everything alright is it?’ The Bossman looked up, his voice friendly in genuine warmth at the sight of his deputy.

‘All good,’ Maddox replied.  He walked over and sat down in a big comfy chair opposite the desk, noticing the heavy smoke of a recent joint hanging in the air.

‘So how was Ryker?’ The Bossman asked with an interested but obviously stoned gaze.  A medium built man with close cropped hair just starting to grey at the temples.  Dressed in a suit he could be a high class lawyer, dressed in overalls he could be a reliable mechanic.  The Bossman suited anything he wore and with his easy smile and laughing eyes he got on with just about everyone he met.  People liked him, people wanted to like him, but more importantly, people wanted him to like them.

‘Good,’ Maddox nodded, ‘we found one man in his house but he refused to pay so we had to resolve the situation,’ Maddox explained.  The street language dropped now as he spoke in calm measured tones.

‘Who did the talking?’ The Bossman asked.

‘Ryker started but I took over at the end, he clearly wasn’t going to pay so we had to sort it.  He came out with a bat and started taking swings at the crew.’

‘Who was it?’

‘A bald man in a semi-detached house on Sycamore Avenue,’ Maddox replied.

‘What old Naylor?’ The Bossman looked surprised for a second, ‘he always was a bloody idiot, good builder though I’ll give him that.  Christ so he survived it did he?’

‘He did,’ Maddox answered, ‘but not now.’

‘Oh well, serves him right. You had to do what you had to do,’ the Bossman nodded deeply with a knowing look. ‘So everything else alright is it?’

‘Zayden left his post out on the junction to go for a piss, sorted him out though.’

‘What that little lad out there on his own?’

‘He’s on Darius’ crew; Darius said he’s a good lad.’

‘How did you sort it?’

‘I gave him a hard stare till he shit himself then gave him a bollocking, told him I knew Lauren fancied him so he didn’t want to miss the party by being in the shit.’

‘Good lad,’ the Bossman laughed appreciatively, ‘good work, never use a slap unless you have no other choice.  Win ‘em over and they’ll work their bollocks off for you.’

‘I know,’ Maddox nodded listening intently.  He always listened when the Bossman explained things.  It was the Bossman that got him out of talking street as he called it, when they were together, telling Maddox that a king had to be able to talk with all his men.  It was also the Bossman that taught Maddox getting people to love you gave them more loyalty than fear will ever give.  But fear, used at the right time and the right place, will do the work of a thousand requests.

‘Liam was on the gate sweating in his hoody, he hadn’t drank any water for hours,’ Maddox continued.

Shaking his head and tutting, the Bossman looked worried as he rolled another joint, ‘we need to sort that out Maddox, this heat will have them dropping like flies if we ain’t careful.  Are they washing? If they don’t drink and don’t wash they’ll get sick.  Ever heard of dysentery?’ Maddox shook his head, ‘It’s what the soldiers used to get when they went days without clean water, shit food and not cleaning themselves.  If we get that here we’ll all be down with it, gives you the chronic shits and makes you weak.’

‘Okay boss,’ Maddox nodded, ‘so we need to get them washed and drinking clean water.  I was getting worried about the shit they’re eating too, and smoking weed all night.’

‘Here’s what you do,’ the Bossman leant in speaking quickly and using his hands with quick movements, ‘get the crew chiefs to be responsible for making sure they’re washed, but make sure the girls to do the girls I don’t want any perving going on mind, get some exercise equipment outside and get the kids seeing you and some of the other fit lads training, they’ll want to join in and be like you but then you tell ‘em that unless they start eating decent they can’t train.  Give ‘em an incentive, as for the weed.  Well it keeps ‘em settled.  That Darius is a fit lad, get him and that Ryland in on it.’

‘We got stacks of those multi-vitamins here boss, can we start giving them out in the mornings?’

‘Bloody good idea Maddox,’ the Bossman smiled encouragingly, ‘yeah do that, anything else?’

‘The party.  I got some televisions taken from the houses near here and I got the Xboxes all rigged up, you still alright if we switch the power over for a few hours, we got a DJ booth rigged up too.’

‘Maddox, you do what needs doing son.  I told you, you’re in charge on the ground so you make the decision.  I’m here for the bigger things, to oversee it all and make sure we got enough of everything.’ The Bossman replied lighting the joint.

‘Yeah sweet boss…’

‘Maddox! What have I told you about your language?’

‘Sorry boss, I meant thank you.’

‘That’s better.  You speak to them how they understand it but you got to know how to speak with everyone.’

‘I understand.’

‘Do you? Well I am not sure I fully understand the last statement of confirmation you made, and I would ask that you kindly elaborate for me?’ The Bossman switched to a cultured tone; sounding intelligent and refined he looked as expectantly at Maddox, just as Maddox looked expectantly at Liam just a few minutes ago.

‘Do I have to?’ Maddox groaned with a sheepish smile.

‘I would rather that indeed you do have to.’

Sighing, Maddox sat up straight and rolled his eyes as the Bossman smiled in good humour, ‘well in reply to your previous comment concerning my assent of confirmation I would hereby state, for the record, that my confirmation of understanding was given in a truthful manner and one which I can barely see any reason for doubting.  Therewithal I challenge any doubt on my words and seek clarity should there be any further confusion on the subject.’

‘Maddox! That was brilliant!’ The Bossman beamed and leant over to shake his hand, pumping it greatly, ‘it’s getting better all the time!’

‘Thanks boss,’ Maddox answered.

‘Look I know the world is fucked beyond repair and those fucking things are stomping about eating everyone, but you never know when you might need to speak properly.  A king needs to talk with all his men.  There is a world beyond this estate Maddox.  Other survivors that will come here and want to trade.  We heard that explosion a few days ago so we know there is shit going down in other places. Now anything else?’  Maddox nods in response.  They had all heard the explosion of the housing estate detonated by Dave and Jamie, and they all felt the tremor in the ground as window panes rattled in their frames followed by a huge mushroom cloud boiling up high into the sky.  It was early morning, barely dawn and it brought every youth out into the open grounds of the compound and staring off into the distance and it served to remind them all of the things that must be going on in other places.

‘The planting of crops I mentioned…’

‘Maddox, it’s only been a few days.  Slow down son,’ the Bossman sat back in his chair and puffed on the joint, ‘let’s get tonight out of the way, give the lads some chill out time, we’ll get together over the next couple of days and work out exactly where you want to do it.  Okay?’

‘Yeah okay boss,’ Maddox relented with an easy smile.

‘Good now piss off; I got plant feed and yields to calculate.’

‘Okay,’ Maddox got to his feet and crossed the rug covered floor.

‘How’s it going with Skyla?’ the Bossman asked quickly.

‘Skyla? Yeah she’s alright,’ Maddox replied aloof as always when the bossman asked him about women.

‘Just alright is she? She looks more than alright to me son.’ He said lighting the joint and inhaling deeply.

‘We’ll see,’ Maddox grinned before letting himself out and slowly closing the door.  The grin faded as the door shut with a click.  Maddox liked the Bossman and was genuinely pleased that he had given him the top job, but he also knew he had earned it.  Sorting through a thousand tasks every day that came through him instead of the boss.  As the days went on, his reputation grew as did his sense of responsibility.  Even the women in the units saw him as the go-to-man.  The Bossman was friendly enough but after the initial mad rush of the first few days, getting the compound secure, stocking food and getting weapons he spent more and more time in his office, worrying and fretting about plant food, what yields he would get from the plants, smoking joints and leaving everything to Maddox.  The bossman had always smoked weed, but never this much and it worried Maddox.

As he left, Maddox thought back to that first night.  He’d been with the Bossman driving through the estate in the big Mercedes as Maddox counted out the nights takings.

‘You done well tonight then Maddox?’

‘Yeah very well,’ Maddox replied quietly as he leafed through the thick bundle of twenty pound notes.

‘Any trouble?’

‘Nah, couple of those jumped up college kids again trying to give it large.’

‘Be careful with them,’ the Bossman warned, ‘don’t deal to them yourself.  Get one of the kids to do it, if they get nicked they’ll bubble you up quicker than anything.’

‘I did,’ Maddox replied.

‘Good lad…what the fuck is that?’ The Bossman leant forward, looking through the windscreen at the figure stood in the middle of the road.

‘He must be pissed,’ Maddox chuckled.

‘What round here?’ The Bossman replied looking round at the quiet residential street.

‘Is he bleeding? Look he’s hurt,’ Maddox peered at the man covered in blood and staggering around on unsteady feet.

‘Who is it?’ The Bossman asked, ‘is he one of ours?’

‘I fucking hope not,’ Maddox answered knowing that anyone touching one of their kids would be dealt with very harshly.

‘Nah that’s a man that is, not a kid,’ the Bossman brought the car to a gradual stop a few metres from the figure.

‘I’ll go and see,’ Maddox replied.

‘I’ll come with you,’ the Bossman said.  They climbed out of the vehicle and moved towards the figure, both of them staring hard and trying to see who the man was.  Thick wet blood coated his face and a large open wound was flapping on his neck.

‘Alright mate?’ The Bossman called out, ‘what happened?’  The figure turned and stared towards the Bossman, a low growl coming from his throat.

‘Boss,’ Maddox shouted the warning as the figure burst to life and ran at the Bossman.  Maddox met the man just feet before he reached the Bossman and powered him to the ground.  The injured man writhed and bucked, howling loudly as it tried to lunge and bite out.

‘Fucker’s trying to bite me,’ Maddox yelled and slammed his fist into the side of the man’s head.  The blow had little effect as the man kept thrashing his head and gnashing at Maddox.

‘Hold up son,’ the Bossman ran in and kicked the downed man in the ribs.  Still no effect and the thing raged and fought furiously.

‘Fuck me he must be on crack,’ the Bossman shouted, ‘have him Maddox.’  Maddox responded with a flurry of hard powerful blows aimed down at the side of the man’s head, purposefully avoiding the already bloodied face and not wanting to get blood on his hands.

‘He ain’t stopping,’ Maddox shouted in alarm.

‘Shit…’ the Bossman leapt back as another howling figure lunged at him.  The fight stepped up a notch as both men realised the danger of their situation.  Two crazy men trying to attack them on their own turf.  This must be serious.  Maddox jumped up and slammed his foot down onto the man’s face and heard the snapping of bone.  Without further delay he turned round to see the Bossman flick the blade out on his switchblade and stick the sharpened point repeatedly into the chest of the attacking figure.  Maddox ran over and grabbed the man from behind, pulling him away as the Bossman plunged the knife into the throat.

Dropping the body to the floor they both stood in shock, staring at the bodies then at each other.

‘What the fuck was all that about?’ The Bossman asked quietly.

‘We gotta go boss, the fed’s will be all over this.’

‘Yeah right, fuck is that another one?’ They both turned to see another figure running at them.  A middle aged woman dressed in a paisley dressing gown and pink fluffy bunny slippers.  A ragged wound on her face and blood coating the front of her night clothes.

‘You are fucking joking…’ the Bossman shook his head.

‘Boss, give me that,’ Maddox took the knife from the older man and walked at the figure charging towards them.  Side stepping at the last second as the woman lunged forward with her lips pulled back.  Maddox punched her hard to the side of her head and she went down thudding her head into the side of the Mercedes.

‘Watch the bleedin’ car!’ The Bossman shouted.

‘Sorry boss,’ Maddox replied.  The woman showed no reaction and clambered quickly to her feet, turning to lunge at Maddox.  He danced backwards trying to fend the woman off with his free hand.  Feeling the side of a car behind him and knowing the woman was going to bite him he lashed out and swept the blade across her throat.  A crimson spray of blood spurting out and soaking Maddox’s clothes.

‘You’ll have to burn them now,’ the Bossman tutted, ‘you’ll be covered in her DNA.’

‘Boss, what is going on?’ Maddox shouted, ‘they’re trying to bite us.’

‘Fuck me…more?’ the Bossman shouted as more figure appeared further down the street running towards them in that same jerky manner.

The powerful headlights of the Mercedes illuminated the throng of night clothes wearing attackers as they poured up the road.  The Bossman watched them intently, taking in the injuries, the blood soaked clothes, the jerky motion of their running and finally….the red bloodshot eyes.

‘Maddox, get in the car son…quick.’ They both climbed in and slammed the doors closed.  Without hesitation the Bossman put the vehicle into gear and pressed his foot down hard.  The car shot forward, accelerating quickly and heading straight towards the oncoming group.

‘They ain’t moving,’ Maddox shouted as the first ones impacted on the bonnet and went flying over the top of the vehicle.  More thuds as the vehicle ploughed them down and sped off.

Each street they went through more bodies were out in the road.  Groups of people were fighting each other, more on the ground being bitten and savaged.  Screams and shouts pierced the air as they drove quickly through the estate.

‘Get to the units,’ Maddox shouted through the window at a group of youths running down the street.  They swept through shouting the same thing to any youth they recognised as one of theirs, telling them to pass the message on.

By the time they got back, there were already crowds of youths standing about and looking either pumped up or terrified.

That’s when the Bossman showed why he was in charge.  Within minutes he had the units open and the youths safely inside and watchers out guiding more kids in.

He was a good leader and despite the now constant weed smoking, Maddox felt a deep sense of loyalty to him.

Re-entering the drying area he quickly inspected the drying crops, counting the bundles and checking the correct amounts were there.  No one would dare steal from the Bossman or Maddox but it didn’t hurt to check everything once in a while.

‘Lenski,’ Maddox called out to the high cheek boned woman walking past the door with a clipboard in hand.  Lenski had been one of the young adult women accepted into the compound as society outside the gates crumbled.  Quickly proving herself to be intelligent and capable she effectively “ran” the inside of the units when Maddox wasn’t present, holding the keys to the food and alcohol stores.

‘Maddox, you are back then,’ the Polish woman replied, her English good but still retaining a strong Eastern European edge.

‘Yeah, everything okay here?’ Maddox forgot to re-introduce his street talk, sticking to his preferred normal voice while talking to the beautiful but very hard faced woman.

‘Is good Maddox, all is good here yes?’ She nodded back giving a brief smile.

‘The sentries aren’t drinking enough in the heat and they don’t have the brains to come and get something.  Can you make sure someone takes water out to them every couple of hours and make sure they’ve got food too.’

‘Sure, I do this,’ Lenski nodded again, making a quick note on her own ever growing list of things to do.

‘Also, can you get the packs of multi-vitamins out and make sure there’s a bottle in every tent…’

‘Multi-vitamins,’ Lenski added it to her list.

‘And we need to make sure they’re washing properly, are they using the baby wipes you gave them?’

‘I do not think they use these,’ Lenski replied in her husky voice, ‘the packets they are still full no?’

‘I’ll speak to the crew chiefs and get them on it but we might need your help with the girls, yeah I’ll get you and Sierra to talk to the girls and Darius and me can talk to the lads.’ Sierra and Darius were both crew chiefs and also an established couple.  At seventeen years old they were also older than most of the youths and looked up to as figures of authority.

‘Sure, I do this too…I do more every day,’ Lenski replied with a pursed mouth.

‘I can send someone else in to help you. I’ll sort it out tonight.’

‘That is a good thing, the plants they need the water, the food it needs to be done, the washing clothes is many…in here we only have a few but you have many.’

‘I got it Lenski,’ Maddox could see she was being genuine.  Initially the older girls had been quiet and sullen and after a couple of days he could tell they were thinking they were being held captive and forced into slave labour.  Maddox could see the problems this would cause and took them all out into the streets, showed them what was out there and said they could come or go as they pleased.  Admittedly, he did take them to the roughest area where the most kills had been made and they quickly chose to remain in the safety of the compound.  Since then Maddox had made it clear they could leave anytime they wished.  None of them did.  Lenski had taken the role seriously and guarded the food with a hawk eye, making sure her girls washed the clothes, cleaned the base and tended the plants.  Maddox greatly admired the beautiful woman and despite the comments being made now, he knew she cared for the youths.

‘Is okay with me now,’ she added with a smile then looked at him thoughtfully, ‘you okay Maddox? You look tired.  Many late nights no? Come and sit I make you drink.’  He followed the woman as she turned and walked through the plantation.

‘Have the crews brought much in today?’ He asked instead of eyeing up her shapely backside.

‘We get some yes, many more tins of food now. More today than yesterday. Did you ask about the garden for the crops?’

‘He said we’ll talk about it after the party.’

‘But this is July, we late for planting already.  Plant now quickly. Or we do the idea I said.’

‘Lenski, the Bossman isn’t going to give up a unit for growing food.’

‘But we eat or we die.  The food they bring it good but it not last many weeks.  The young people they eat many times.  We have the lights the water the heat….’

‘Okay I know.  Let’s get tonight done then I can ask him tomorrow.’

‘Poor Maddox, so busy.’ She turned with a smile. Not being able to tell if she was genuine or being sarcastic Maddox stayed quiet. ‘You are just Eighteen no? A child. But you are a man Maddox; you are a great man the way you do this,’ she added.

‘Someone has to,’ Maddox replied quietly, uncomfortable with the compliment.

‘You lead here, you tell everyone what they do.  All the day I hear Maddox say this, Maddox say that, Maddox the great,’ she laughed, a pleasing sound full of delight which made him smile.

‘All I hear is Lenski said no, Lenski said get out, Lenski said piss off,’ Maddox replied quickly.  She laughed harder, whacking him on the arm with her clipboard.

‘I rule with fear you with love,’ she smiled again.

The afternoon stretched on.  Another day passing slowly with crews returning to the compound, bags filled with taxed goods taken from the survivors found living on the sprawling estates.  Reports of clusters of the dirty infected roaming certain streets.  Crews despatched to find and eliminate them.  Listening to the reports given by the chiefs, giving instructions, arranging the party for the evening and everything done with the compound going through Maddox.  No signs of flustering or irritation at the constant interruptions.

The muscular teenager evolved into his role as natural leader and with each passing hour of each passing day, his aura grows.  He learns quickly, developing his own easy style.  Giving orders that aren’t questioned, advice that isn’t rebuked.  Lenski finds she is equally busy as Maddox learns that he can’t take everything on himself and fielding more and more of the questions and requests for help to the Polish woman.  A natural hierarchy developed from necessity.  Capable people doing the things needed to be done.  As with Maddox, Lenski develops her own style.  Not as friendly or approachable as Maddox but she listens to each youth in turn and jots down on her ever growing list or sends them packing with a few words of caustic advice

It seems that every few minutes something else happens.  Someone else has a question.  Never more than a few steps taken in any given direction before one of the youths calls out in street language, some of them confident and coming straight to the point, others shy and shuffling nervously as they’re prompted and probed to find the problem.

Late afternoon Maddox found himself alone in his quarters.  Two small adjoining offices, separated by stud walls.  One of them his room, the other initially empty but then given over to Lenski as Maddox watched her develop.  Knowing that by giving her a private room she would be seen as a higher up, and also serving to give her some privacy which she would value and then make sure she worked hard enough to keep.  Other than the bossman, theirs were the only fully private rooms.  The crew chiefs had their own tents but nothing beat having solid walls round you and a fully functioning door that could be closed.  As it was, because of the sheer volume of work needed to be done within the compound, neither of them used the rooms apart from a few hours of exhausted sleep.  Standing there enjoying the quiet for a few minutes, away from the hustle of the compound now full after nearly all the crews had returned he allowed his mind to settle and again started going through mental checklists of what was still to be done.  Sighing he turned at the door being knocked and pushed open.

‘People at the gate,’ Lenski said simply.

‘What people?’

‘I not know this,’ she shrugged.

‘Come on,’ Maddox walked past.

‘I come with you?’ She asked to clarify but already walking next to him.

‘Yeah,’ he nodded; staring ahead at the armed youths running towards the front of the compound.

The gathered youth’s parted as Maddox waded through them, reaching the front and staring through the central section giving a view of the street ahead.  Several adults were gathered on the junction where Zayden should be, looking back down at the compound.

‘Where Zayden at?’ Maddox asked.

‘Here,’ Darius pushed the youth forward.

‘Zayden, who are they?’ Maddox questioned the lad.

‘I dunno swear down, they said they wanted to talk to the Bossman.’

‘They armed?’

‘I didn’t see nuffin, no guns.’

‘Do you know them?’ Maddox asked peering through the gap and thinking they need a scaffold tower built high so they can see over the top of the gate.

‘Nah Maddox,’ Zayden answered.

‘Darius, you and me bruv, get a shotgun.’

‘I got your back Maddox,’ Darius said quickly.  ‘Sierra,’ Maddox looked over to the girl, ‘you too.’

‘Open up,’ Maddox gave the order as one gate was swung open with enough room for them to step through. ‘Stay behind me,’ he told the crew chiefs.  They dropped back a few steps, staying quiet and keeping their faces blank as Maddox and Lenski walked ahead.

Striding down the straight road Maddox took in the details of the adults; three men and two women all looking filthy and gaunt.  Maddox recognised three of the faces from the estate and clocked that they’re not customers of the Bossman, just some of the many background people that made up the life here.

Watching the approaching foursome the group started moving towards them.  Holding his hand up to warn them to stay back, Maddox asserted control of the encounter by being the one to walk to them.  Already sending a clear signal.

‘Are you the Bossman?’ One of the men asked as Maddox came to a stop several metres away.

‘Nah bruv,’ Maddox answered, ‘he’s busy innit.’

‘We want to talk to him,’ the man said.

‘I said he’s busy innit, what you want?’ Maddox kept his tone blunt but his face passive.

‘Your boys are taking too much, we got nothing left,’ one of the women said, her face and hair looking filthy and bedraggled.

‘Have you seen the infected?’ Maddox asked, ‘no you don’t see them, we sorted them so you got to pay up innit.’

‘I got kids,’ the woman blurted out, ‘they ain’t getting enough to eat with your tax taking everything.’

‘You’s all from the Oak estate innit.  How old are your kids?’

‘We want to talk with the Bossman not some bloody kid,’ the first man to speak said angrily.

‘Who are you?’ Maddox glared at the man, ‘the Bossman busy so you got me, how old are your kids?’

‘Twelve and Thirteen,’ the woman replied wiping a strand of greasy hair from her face.

‘They can come here, live with us, we got plenty of food for them.’

‘Yeah ‘cos you got all our bloody food,’ the first man strode forward, his face red and flustered.  Maddox sensed Darius and Sierra shifting behind him and waved his hand at his side, signalling them to stand down.

‘You got all the kids here and all the food, we need to eat too, we want our food back.’

‘Nah bruv, you get me?’

‘Get what? We want our fucking food back.’

‘Go find some,’ Maddox replied watching the man intently, his face still passive, ‘we found our food, you find yours.  You pay up and we keep it safe innit.’

‘No innit,’ the man shouted, his anger exploding at the impudence of the hard faced youth staring back, ‘you’re just fucking kids playing at grownups, if we had those guns we’d be in charge.’

‘But you ain’t bruv, you stayed at home shittin’ your pants while we got this rigged up, we took the risks and got the prize… go home.’

‘You’re fucking lucky you got them shotguns behind you,’ the man raged from a few feet away, pointing and thrusting his finger at Maddox.

‘Or what?’ Maddox answered.

‘Or I’d kick your fucking head in,’ the man bellowed.

‘Go home,’ Maddox dismissed the man with a sneer, ‘tell your kids they can come and live with us.  We got weed you can have but no food.’

‘Weed?’ The woman asked with a sudden interest.  You ain’t that hungry then are you, Maddox mused to himself.

‘We don’t want any fucking drugs, we want food,’ the man stepped forward again.  Maddox stared ahead, avoiding looking at the man but sensing his proximity.

‘Back up bruv,’ Maddox warned him.

‘Why you gonna shoot me?’ He sneered, dangerously over stepping the mark.

‘Why can’t we live here too?’ The second woman asked her voice strained and weak.

‘No,’ Maddox replied, ‘go home. You come here again and we’ll fuck you up, swear down.’

‘Right I want to speak with the Bossman right now,’ the man exploded in fury.

‘Jeff…’ one of the women said with a warning tone.

‘No, I’m not going to be told what to do by a bunch of fucking retarded chavvy gangsta kids…’ Maddox reacted quickly, crossing the distance and punching the man once in the face; dropping him instantly.  No anger, but using violence and fear to enforce the message he’d already given them several times.  He also knew that they were being watched by every youth in the compound.

‘Go home,’ Maddox stared at each of them in turn, his voice still low and calm.

‘We’re going,’ one of the other men darted forward to start dragging the unconscious form away.

‘What about the weed?’ The woman asked.

‘We’ll drop some round tomorrow,’ Maddox replied.  Turning he indicated to the others and started walking back towards the compound.  Going ahead with Lenski while Sierra and Darius drop back and cover the rear.

‘Why we not give them food?’ Lenski asked quietly.  Maddox paused before answering, quickly trying to figure if her question was challenging his authority.

‘We got plenty of food now, but we also got plenty of hungry mouths to feed and you said it, that food will run out soon if we don’t keep it coming in.’

‘But the people, they will leave no?’

‘Not yet, there’s still loads of infected out there and they don’t feel safe enough yet.  We keep pushing them and take what we can for now.  When the time is right we can back off and give a little.’

‘This is…how you say…er…the planning?’

‘Strategy,’ Maddox answered as she nodded in understanding.  ‘We give in now and they’ll want more and more, it’s human nature.  We stay hard now, take everything and get them scared.  We’ll know when it’s time to change.’

‘But you kill the people when they don’t pay.’  She asked in the same open tone, a look of genuine puzzlement on her face bringing Maddox to a stop.  He stared into her eyes, seeing no sign of challenge but a proud woman wanting to know why.

‘This wasn’t out fault.  We didn’t cause this.  The Bossman reacted quick enough to make the compound and fill it with food.  He was already doing the job of the parents to these kids.  It was him they came to when they needed help, him they turned to…’

‘Not just him no? I think it was you too.’

‘Yeah maybe, but we got this secured and built.  We got the food.  We killed the infected while they hid.  They saw us out there fighting and they could have come out and helped.  They didn’t.  If we let them in they’ll try and rule it and fuck it up.  Yeah we kill when they don’t pay.  We killed a man today…’ He watches her face closely but she shows no reaction ‘he didn’t pay, I warned him but he came out fighting so we killed him.  He had plenty of food that will feed this lot for a while.  He was old and had a choice.  And his death will tell the others who we are. You get me?’

‘You talk in different ways, you are like onion with the layers no?’

‘Onion? I ain’t no fuckin’ onion blood, swear down bruv innit,’ he replied quickly with an easy wry smile.  Lenski watched his passive face and the deeply intelligent eyes.  This youth was a natural leader and she observed that he chose his clothes carefully too.  Going for black but not-too-baggy jeans and a plain white t shirt that accentuated his powerful shoulders.  No hooded top either, his hair short but not shaved, no baseball cap or head covering.  Features open and watchful, never letting his face betray his mind.

Walking back in the gate to an excited buzz of cheering and youths gathering flooding round Maddox, yelling he was the man, and that punch was bad.  Maddox took the compliments well, smiling and taking high fives before starting to stride out a few steps and waving his arms to motion them to be silent.

‘Listen up,’ his voice barely raised quieted the last of the chattering youths, ‘this is our base for us.  Ain’t no mofo’s comin’ in here and takin’ our shit.  We the feds now bruv, you get me?’ His simple words spoken in a language they understood keyed them up into a frenzy as they cheered loudly. Waving his arms for silence he saw Darius smiling at him, nodding in compliment.

‘Right, we havin’ a party here innit, we got tunes, food, liquor and some nice smoke from the Bossman’s own private collection,’ another cheer sounding out as the children bounce up and down, ‘but…listen up, listen up,’ Maddox raised his voice slightly and the intense look on his face made them fall silent within seconds, ‘I need you to do somethin’ for me.  If we gonna run this shit we need to be clean innit, some of you’s stink worse than the pigs,’ some laughs sound out as they soak his words up, ‘I want my crews clean you get me? You get clean before you get to party.  Darius, you get the crew chiefs wiv me blood, Lenski too.  The rest of you do one and get some water.’

As they crowd dispersed Maddox knew he timed it perfectly.  The youths, after seeing him lay that man out would have stripped off there and let him hose them down if he’d asked.  Hero worship in their eyes, young faces looking up and adoring him.

‘What’s up Maddox?’ Darius asked as they stepped aside to speak quietly.  Sierra and Lenski both watching him as the crew chiefs gathered round.

‘Nuffin’, you?’ Maddox gave the instant reply.

‘Nuffin,’ Darius replied.

‘The Bossman said we got to clean them up innit, they get Dysentery and we’re fucked,’ Maddox explained and stopped as he saw the puzzled looks on more than a few faces, ‘It’s a disease innit, soldiers get it when they don’t wash properly, you get the proper shits and die,’ Maddox exaggerated what he’d been told, but knowing he needed to get the seriousness across.  ‘Sierra, you and Lenski get the girls done.  Make sure they’re washed proper innit, you get me?’

‘Yeah,’ Sierra nodded, ‘we got shower gel and shampoo innit.  Where we doin’ this Maddox?’

‘Here,’ Lenski pointed to the side of unit, ‘we got some...er…’

‘Screens,’ Maddox helped her find the word.

‘We got screens no? Stop the boys looking at the boobs,’ she smiled, ‘the water it cold but the sun it is hot no?’

‘Boys round the other side then by the drains, we get screens up too, this ain’t no PE lesson for piss taking you get me?’ Maddox stared round the male faces, lingering on Ryker for a few seconds.

‘It’s all good bruv,’ Ryker shrugged and nodded.

‘Swear down,’ Maddox warned them, ‘some of them boys is young innit, we ain’t no fuckin’ teachers bein’ all pervy, let them get clean in private.’

‘Girls too,’ Lenski matched Maddox’s glare, ‘you keep boys away or I take the gun and shoot them in the balls,’ her hard tone taken with her fierce glare caused a few sniggers but the point was made.

‘Tonight,’ Maddox continued, ‘they can chill out and get caned, but we stay on it.  Darius, Jagger, Ryland, Mohammed, Sierra, Skyla, Lenski you all wiv me, no booze, no weed.  The rest of you chill out but stay sharp.’

‘Who you puttin’ on the gate?’ Mohammed asked, a thickset youth of sixteen with a serious face.

‘We doin it, take it in turns innit, you get me?’ Maddox replies.  He was going to pick Ryker for sentry duty too and make him stay straight, but after the last few days Maddox wanted the lad to feel safe enough to unwind and see how he would react.  Maybe provide an opportunity to sort him out properly.

‘Questions?’ Maddox asked and instantly regretted it.  With the crews being so young he forgot the crew chiefs were only slightly older and still youths themselves.  Trying to find their feet and learn as they went along.  Questions were thrown at Maddox and he did his best to answer all of them, Lenski stepping in and taking a few off him, notes made on her clipboard and telling many of them she would sort it out.

Several minutes later the chiefs were filing away talking amongst themselves, leaving Maddox and Lenski alone.

‘Skyla she like you no?’ Lenski asked, straight to the point as usual.

‘Yeah I guess,’ Maddox replied.

‘You like her? She very pretty, she make the eyes at you all the time.’

‘I saw that,’ Maddox grimaced remembering how Sierra pulled the zip lower and lower on her hooded top to show her over developed cleavage thrusting out from her low cut top.  The sixteen year old girl was beautiful but that was it.  She was sixteen and although Maddox was but two years older, somehow it felt wrong.

‘And the boobs, I thought maybe she take them out,’ Lenski stayed straight faced making Maddox laugh.

‘I think she young for you, you need the real woman,’ she winked before turning away with a swish of hair, exaggerating a sexy hip swing and looking back to make sure he was watching, laughing at his evident surprise.

The youths were separated.  Boys being taken to the far side by the large drains built into the ground and the girls led away to the front.  Screens taken from the cannabis plantation and previously used to block the view from the grimy windows are taken outside and erected as large makeshift shower cubicles.  Hoses, used to water the plants are dragged out and fixed to the side of the screen.

Grumbling, moaning, whining and making excuse after excuse the boys lined up as Maddox made the crew chiefs go first.  Telling them quietly to show they’re enjoying it.  Taking it to the next level, the chiefs stripped off one by one and sang their way through the quick shower.  Rap songs to start off with quickly change into any tune remembered and within minutes a competition was started with points awarded by the crowd for the song belted out.

The water was freezing, but as Lenski said, the sun was hot and before long the ground was foaming from the liberal amounts of shower gel and shampoo scrubbed and sluiced off.  With not enough towels to go round, Maddox ordered them to dry off quickly before getting dressed and stretch the towels out on the hot ground.  Darius, showing as good initiative quickly inspects the clothes left by the showering youths and orders the filthiest to be set aside for washing.  Those without new clothes were taken aside by Mohammed and Ryland to be supplied with new garments taken from the looted shops.

Round the other side of the units, the girls fared much better.  Naturally inclined to be cleaner than teenage boys the girls relished the chance to wash and each one took several minutes to scrub and wash their hair.  A second hose was dragged out and some of the more confident girls showered two at a time.  Chattering and laughing about the boys, who fancies who and badgering Lenski for new clothes and make-up.

Within an hour the youths were clean for the first time in days and Maddox stared glumly at the pile of filthy garments left over, then shaking his head as the girls filter back round followed by Lenski and Sierra carrying armfuls of dirty clothes, quickly dumped onto the already huge mound.

‘So I will be cleaning these too?’ Lenski asked with a challenging look.  Maddox stared back and shrugged, suddenly feeling out of his depth for the first time since it began.

Picking up on the subtle change in his eyes, Lenski quickly smiled, ‘it’s not big problem, we clean them.’

‘Okay,’ Maddox smiled back.  The resilient lad was used to looking after himself, using laundries to get his own clothing washed and taking care over his appearance.  But suddenly having to sort out the laundry for so many filthy kids clothes was too much.

‘They need burning,’ Sierra added with a grimace.

‘Punishment detail,’ Maddox said quietly then looked to the two women, ‘we use it as punishment when they fuck up.’

‘Might work,’ Sierra nodded.

‘Is better than my girls doing it,’ Lenski agreed.

‘Maddox, is Lenski a crew chief?’ Sierra suddenly asked an innocent question that showed her young age. Being unable to just accept the situation fluidly and needing the rank structure laid out clearly.

‘No, Lenski is in charge of the base when I’m not here,’ Maddox replied in a tone that did not invite further conversation.

‘So does that mean she’s number three then?’ Sierra asked, clearly showing she missed the tone that didn’t invite further conversation.

‘I am not number,’ Lenski interrupted, annoyed at being spoken about like she wasn’t there.

‘The Bossman is one, Maddox is number two so you must be three innit?’ Sierra said as if it made the most perfect sense.

‘Yes.’ Maddox said with a glance at Lenski.

‘Yay,’ Sierra quickly hugged the startled Polish woman and walked off beaming, telling Darius that Lenski was number three now.

‘Nice one,’ Darius shouted over and set about telling more people, who in turn told more people who then stared back at Lenski smiling.

‘I am not number,’ Lenski grumbled to Maddox.

‘You are now,’ Maddox replied, ‘you just got promoted.’

‘Do I get the pay rise too?’ Lenski nodded at the grinning youths as the latest gossip that Lenski was number three whipped through the camp.

‘Yeah, you get more weed,’ Maddox joked, knowing Lenski, like him, didn’t smoke it.

‘I never try it,’ she replied.

‘Never?’

‘I never do the drugs. Is it nice?’

‘They like it,’ Maddox shrugged.

‘Do you like it?’

‘No, I like being in control,’ Maddox replied.

‘Yes. I see that.’

‘They’ll want to know who is number four next, then five and down to the last one.’

‘Three is enough?’

‘For now,’ Maddox said, his mind already working ahead and seeing the power struggles that could break out as the youths clambered for authority over the rest, ‘they’ll want deputy crew chiefs, assistant crew chiefs and someone in charge of the toilet.’

‘You remind me now, we need more toilets, there is only a few here.’

‘I know,’ Maddox replied, ‘add it to the list.’

‘I did that already.’ They stand in silence, two young people drawn together and watching a new society form right in front of them.  One, a hardened black youth takes everything in, watching the subtle behaviours that shape the culture already developing.  The other, a young woman from a different country, clutching a clipboard and blowing a stray strand of hair from her eyes, seeing tasks that need to be done, making lists and nodding to herself as she mentally ticks them off.

‘Rats and cockroaches,’ Maddox says quietly.

‘Where?’ Lenski looked at the ground in alarm.

‘Us, we’re rats and cockroaches.  There was something the Bossman told me that the only things that would survive a nuclear war would be rats and cockroaches,’ he shrugged, ‘that’s us.’

‘I am not rat!’ Lenski exclaimed.

‘Cockroach then?’ Maddox smiled.

‘I give you the cockroach, I put them in your bed,’ she said laughing before walking away with another disdainful look at the mound of stinking clothes.

Food is prepared by the girls in the units, helped out here and there by the younger youths drawn to the older women by a sense of being near someone maternal and caring.  The power is taken from the lighting units set up above the plants and diverted to the games station and monitors.  Music decks and speakers are dragged out near the pit, wires stretching back inside the units.  Youths gather and congregate as a sense of excitement grows.  Play lists are formulated and arguments break out over who is going first on the decks.  With many budding DJ’s all wanting to display their skills Darius and Mohammed are forced to step in and resolve the disagreements by pushing the youths back and organising a list.

The prepared food is given out one crew at a time as they withdraw to their tents to eat together, a rule enforced by Maddox to prevent squabbling and all out carnage.  Peace descends for a short time, giving the older youths and crew chiefs a chance to get the final touches ready.  Some old disco lights are stretched round the pit, some of the plant UV lights stacked here and there.  Then into the units to gather up the pre-wrapped lumps of weed.  Taken round to the tents by Maddox and Darius, each youth given enough to see them through the night.

Maddox, never before feeling any sense of guilt about supplying the weed and taking the cash for it, feels a deepening sense of shame and worry.  Young kids, some of them barely ten years old, reach out to take the cannabis in their small hands.  Smiling with red tired looking eyes.  Children given a drug to keep them passive and quiet.  He understands the thought process, that having so many young people ripped away from whatever fucked up family life they had and shoving them into an area with no real care or love is a recipe for disaster, but giving them drugs to keep them docile? Is this the right thing to do?

Confused at the new thoughts creeping into his mind, Maddox moved from tent to tent.  Seeing the way the young look up to him, eager for a few words or something said by Maddox that would mean he’s noticed them.  He takes his time and mentions each youth by name, telling them they’re doing a good job, mentioning a joke heard about them, or a boy or girl he saw watching them.  He takes it easy with the shy ones, speaking quieter and with a softer tone.  Hardening his jokes and banter with the more rough and ready lads.  The girls make eyes at him, zips get pulled down and cleavages pushed out.  He pretends not to notice and keeps eye contact, smiling, joking, sharing stories and listening to their tales.

As he steps out of the last tent his eyes move back to the end of the units, where the Bossman’s office is. Knowing the great man will be sat inside smoking a joint and jotting down his yields, power output, water usage and leaving everything to Maddox.  Wondering if the Bossman will make an appearance tonight, Maddox heads back towards the pit and the final touches being put to the decks.  The Bossman got all this set up; he moved quickly while everyone else stood with their mouths hanging open and hid under their beds but for the last few days he’s stayed in his rooms.

The afternoon draws into evening.  A palpable dual sense of nervous excitement spreads through the compound.  Worry, that the night will draw the infected out, if they will hear the howls tonight, if any of them will charge at the gates or fence.  But looking forward to dancing, drinking, smoking weed and getting caned.

As the night started to fall Maddox stood at the top of the compound, on the corner of the building line, maintaining a view of the tents, the building and the front gate as the sun dropped below the line of council houses.  The crew chiefs, spotting him looking into the sky signal for their crews to be silent, faces go taught and look up.  Youths moved out from the tents to stand in silence.

Maddox swiftly checked the gate nodding to Darius stood there holding an old rifle.  Lenski and the girls, on hearing the sudden drop in noise emerged from the open door and stand in silence.  Worried expressions etched onto their tired faces.  Lenski holds her clipboard to her chest.  Maddox knows the area has been swept clean, and nearly every house in the nearby vicinity has been checked but the worry that they could have shuffled back into the streets and now, with the daylight fading they could turn and come after the smell of fresh tender young meat.

Long minutes ticked away.  In the built up urban and without a view of the natural horizon it was impossible to tell when the sun was down and the night was properly upon them.  But still they waited as the sky grew darker with each passing second.  No howls sounded out, ripping the air apart.  Silence everywhere.  With a pre-arranged signal Maddox nodded at Mohammed on the decks.  He flicked a switch, lights flashed on and the solid bass beat stormed out from the speakers.  The youths, still looking up at the sky jump and twitch, spinning round to look at the grinning Mohammed and the multi coloured lights.  Ryland, on seeing the signal drops a match into the pit and steps back as the long flames shoot up from the petrol soaked logs already stacked in place.

Cheering erupts and the youths surge forward.  The now clean and scrubbed faces bursting with relief in the absolute belief that if Maddox says it’s safe then it must be.  Seconds later the young boys and girls are jumping round releasing the anxiety.  The older ones hold back and saunter in casually, trying to look cool and show a sense of not being bothered.

Hearing laughing Maddox turns to see Lenski and the girls all smiling and pointing at the dancing youths.  She smiles a huge grin at Maddox, offering a little wave.  He nods back and turns to see Darius intently staring out through the gap, peering down the street.

‘So you gonna get wiv Skyla then bruv?’ Darius asked his friend as they stood by the main gate a few minutes later.

‘Nah mate,’ Maddox shook his head.

‘She’s fit innit.’ Darius observed.

‘Yeah but not my style,’ Maddox said.

‘Lenski?’ Darius asked watching closely for a reaction, knowing his friends ability to stay completely straight faced.

‘Nah bruv, too busy innit.  Swear down we got too much going on here,’ Maddox replied.

‘You see the Bossman?’ Darius changed subject, being reminded of how busy Maddox was.  He, almost as much as the Bossman, knew how capable Maddox was and how much the compound now relied on him.

‘Earlier,’ Maddox shrugged.

‘He still sat inside with his toke?’

‘Yeah innit,’ Maddox smiled.

‘He comin’ out tonight or what?’ Darius asked, wondering along with everyone else why the Bossman was keeping to his office so much.

‘He won’t,’ Maddox said.

‘Is he alright then?’

‘Dunno, he seemed alright but just sits inside smoking weed and workin’ out the yields and crops.’  Maddox replied.  Darius inhaled sharply as though it was a bad thing Maddox had said.

‘He’s leavin’ it all to you bruv.’

‘We need him,’ Maddox said quickly, wanting to dispel any stupid idea that might be forming in his friends mind. ‘He knows more than us, he got this place sorted and he said about the Dysentery, we don’t know stuff like that.’

‘Fact,’ Darius quickly sided with Maddox, picking up on his quick reply and wanting to show he didn’t mean anything.

‘You hungry bruv? Go get some food and I’ll stay here.’

‘Sure?’ Darius checked before starting to stroll off.

‘Watch Ryker,’ Maddox called out, ‘I don’t like that kid, he’s trouble innit.’

‘I’m all over it,’ Darius raised an arm and was soon lost in the deep shadows.  Alone, Maddox leant against the gate and thought once more about the scaffold tower they need to be able to see over the gate instead of peering through the gap.  One of the garden centres nearby should have something they could use.  Then he thought to the local shops and the scaffolding rigged up round one of them while work was being carried out.  Just take that, he mused quietly.  Get the crews to carry it back.  Need some lights out here, too dark now the street lamps are gone.  Spotlights or something on the top of the scaffold tower like the guard towers have in the movies.

The beat of the music drifted round to him and Maddox found himself humming along with the tune being played.  The estate was huge, covering miles of social housing and run down streets.  Bordered on two sides by fields and open countryside that was rarely ventured into and cut off by strong high metal fencing.  An agreement worked out by the farmers before the project was started.  The north side was cut off by the motorway and the south by the shore.  Those houses on the shore were nice and kept by for the families that proved they could look after their properties.

Thoughts poured through his mind, working out ways to maximise the area.  He could use the school playing fields to plant crops, and maybe get some of the crews down on the shore catching fish.  He knew there were still hordes of the infected gathered about, but eventually they would be killed off, more might come but they would be dealt with too.  Thinking back to the conversation he had with Lenski earlier he wondered how he knew what he knew.  The Bossman had taught him many things but most of it was down to Maddox growing up on the streets and learning quickly.  Striving to drag himself out of the benefit dependant life that everyone else seemed to cling too.  He knew the risks of dealing but took those risks knowing it was the quickest way to get money, status and then get out and be somewhere else.  He wasn’t drawn to the world of gangsta.  He wanted out and that was the way to do it.  But now, now it was all gone and out of necessity he was left holding the baby.

There was no reason why some of these houses couldn’t be converted to house the cannabis plants.  Put solar panels on the roof and then use the space in the units for living in when the weather got bad.  He thought the Bossman wouldn’t like that idea, being away from his babies.  But if they extended the compound out to take in the houses then they would be safe, and maybe use a few of them to live in too.  In time, they could keep extended the fence and barricade out and create a big compound but then the adults would want in.  More adults meant more problems and it would mean having to make more deputies, more helpers, more guards, more guns then it was back to the shit community that was here before.

‘The great leader should be with the people no?’ Lenski said, interrupting his thoughts and holding out a mug of steaming black coffee. Not sure if she meant him or the Bossman he simply took the coffee and smiled.

‘Are you hungry?’ She asked.

‘Nah, I had something before.’

‘We take out the crisps and snacks you said, they go mad and eat them like pigs, everywhere it smell of the weed and they drinking the beer too.’

‘A mess then,’ Maddox asked imagining the chaos that would reigning on the other side of the units.’

‘But they enjoy it,’ she added, ‘the little ones are dropping off.’

‘Ryker?’ Maddox looked at the woman, his meaning clear.

‘Ah, he is loud,’ Lenski nodded, ‘he shouting and making noise and I heard him shouting with Mohammed.’

‘What about?’

‘I not know this, the music it is too loud no? But Darius he speak and make him calm.’

‘Okay.’

‘So what you do here alone?’ She asked quietly.

‘Thinking, we could move the fence out and take in those houses,’ Maddox nodded to the nearby buildings, ‘be better when the weather gets colder.’

‘It is good plan,’ she nodded.

‘Maddox!’ Mohammed sprinted round the corner shouting in alarm. ‘Ryker’s going fuckin’ nuts innit, he’s got a blade out.’

‘Take this and stay here,’ Maddox thrust the shotgun at a startled Lenski who held the foreign object at arm’s length.

‘What I do?’

‘Point and pull the trigger,’ Maddox shouted already running after Mohammed.  He expected Ryker to do something stupid, in fact he was banking on it so he could sort the lad out properly, but pulling a blade is serious.  A thin layer of smoke rests gently on the warm air above the open ground, caused by the fire burning from the pit and the joints being puffed continually.  The constant bass beat of the music abruptly ceases as he charges past Mohammed towards the crowd gathered round the far side of the pit, all turned away and watching something blocked from Maddox’s view.

Pushing his way through Maddox breaks out from the crowd and Ryker stood holding a long knife, fresh blood dripping from the blade and soaking his hand.  His eyes look wild, feral.  Darius stood in front of him pointing his rifle at Ryker and shouting for the youths behind him to move.  Sierra edging in closer also with her weapon pointing at the frenzied looking lad.

‘DROP THE BLADE,’ Darius’s voice booms out, the pitch higher and showing his young age.

‘FUCK YOU, I SWEAR DOWN I’LL SHANK YOU UP,’ Ryker screamed back, spittle flying from his lips as he backed away, eyes darting left and right.

Maddox stepped round Darius and spotted Zayden lying on the ground, his small hands clutching the bleeding wound in his stomach and crying quietly, whimpering for help.

‘Pull him away,’ Maddox shouted at the closest youths, pointing at Zayden, ‘get him inside and get something on him to stop him bleeding.’  Maddox, unarmed and glaring with wide eyes pushed past Darius to step in front of Ryker, ‘WHAT DID YOU DO?’ He roars.

Ryker fixed his eyes on Maddox, fear flitted across his face and he raised the knife higher, pointing it at Maddox.

‘He fuckin’ dissed me innit,’ Ryker shouted defensively.

‘He’s a fucking kid,’ Maddox bellowed back.

‘New rules blood, I ain’t getting dissed by no one,’ Ryker sneered waving the blade at Maddox.  His drug and alcohol fuelled brain buzzes with adrenalin.  The sudden ending of his medication for severe hyper-activity sending him steadily spiralling.  Boundaries blurring as the position of crew chief boosts his self-image, propelling his behaviour to plummet as desperately tries to show his crew how ruthless and hard he is.  Zayden, the small terrified lad sat near him smoking weed and drinking Vodka, trying to show Lauren he can hang with the bigger boys.  As the banter got worse he tried to keep up, using swear words he’d never normally use until he crossed the line and laughingly called Ryker a twat.  He over-stepped the mark and he had to be dealt with.  Ryker, desperate not to lose face confronted him with a violent outburst of temper.  Demanding he say sorry.  Zayden laughed for a couple of minutes before realising the other youths were backing away in fear and leaving him isolated in front of the raging crew chief.  He did apologise, despite feeling the shame in front of the terrified Lauren.  But the damage was done and nothing Zayden could have said or done would change the outcome.  Ryker needed to prove himself so he pulled the blade from his waistband and shoved the pointed end deep into Zayden’s soft stomach.  Screams erupted as Ryker pulled the knife out and held the trembling child by one hand before shoving him to the ground with a look of disgust.  Expecting a cheer for his actions Ryker was confused when he was suddenly surrounded with everyone yelling at him and Darius pointing his rifle.

‘You is a scrawny little prick,’ Maddox said through gritted teeth.  The silence became profound as the youths flicked their eyes between the stand-off. ‘You hear me Ryker? I said you is a scrawny little prick. I’m dissin’ you Ryker, calling you out bruv innit.’

‘Fuck you Maddox,’ Ryker screamed back, feeling a sense of fear creeping up inside.

‘Scrawny,’ Maddox drew the words out, dragging the sound so everyone could hear, ‘little prick innit, shank a little kid? You a pussy bruv.’  Maddox stepped forward, his arms down at his sides.  Ryker backed up waving the blade at the advancing figure.

‘You ain’t a crew chief no more, you cleaning the toilets now innit, you got to clean everyone shit up.  I’ll make you wear a dress and call you Nancy.’

‘FUCK OFF,’ Ryker screamed his face contorting with rage.

‘Nancy,’ Maddox goaded him.

‘FUCKOFF…’

‘Nancy.’

‘JUSFUCKOFF,’ Ryker’s words flew from his mouth as he lunged forward and swiped the blade at Maddox who simply blocked the swing and gripped Ryker by the wrist, twisting viciously and causing the blade to drop from his paralysed hand.  Maddox pulled his fist back and repeatedly slammed the hard knuckles into Ryker’s screaming face.  Writhing and trying to break free, Ryker desperately twisted and turned.  Maddox stepping round with him and sending punch after punch into his face.  The hard blows splitting his lips open, cracking teeth, breaking his nose, fracturing eye sockets and still he didn’t stop.  As Ryker dropped down Maddox went with him using two hands to rein blow after blow into his head.  Ryker slipped into unconsciousness as Maddox grasped him by his collar and started dragging him over towards the big drains.  Ditching the twitching form on the ground he turned and pulled the shotgun from Sierra, opening the weapon and checking each barrel before slamming it shut.  Without a break in stride he walked back, pointed the weapon at Ryker’s head and pulled the trigger.  The booming retort rolled round the enclosed camp as Ryker’s head eviscerated, leaving a bloody stump and a pink mist hanging in the air.

A single piercing scream erupted from deep within the crowded youths.  Young faces squeezing eyes closed, tears streaming down soft cheeks.  No one spoke.  No one moved.

Maddox turned round and stood facing the crowd as he quickly opened the breech and ejected the spent cartridge, instinctively pulling a new one from his pocket, ramming it home and snapping the weapon closed.  Handing the gun back to Sierra he addressed the youths.

‘He had it coming,’ Maddox’s voice carried loud and clear, ‘but he was right about one thing, these are new rules.  We don’t have the feds now, no courts and no trials.  If anyone does shit like that they can expect the same,’ his street language slipped but not one youth noticed as they stared at their leader, hanging from his awful words.  ‘I will take care of you, we will all take care of each other, we are family, but that…’ he pointed at the bloodied corpse, ‘is bad shit.  We don’t use weapons on each other, if we have an issue we sort it out.  You all watched Ryker shank Zayden.  You should have stopped him but you was all too stoned.’ Maddox shook his head knowing they would have been too terrified to confront the crazed Ryker but using the time to ram a point home, ‘too much weed will fuck you up,’ he continued, ‘and we don’t mix weed with booze, parties over.  Get this cleaned up and no weed for the next few nights.’  Maddox knew the Bossman wouldn’t like the ban, but he did say he was in charge.

The crew chiefs moved in swiftly, breaking the crowd apart and ushering them away.  Muted chatter filled the air; the shock of the event was palpable.  Maddox swept his eyes across the crowd, coming to rest on the soft orange glow coming from the open door to the units.  The Bossman stood in silhouette watching the proceedings while puffing away on his joint.  Maddox stared back as the orange glow came back again, then the Bossman was gone, moving back to his quarters and leaving Maddox to deal with everything again.

Lenski appeared coming round the building, her hands free from the clipboard for the first time in days.  She walked straight at Maddox and stopped when she saw the bloodied headless cadaver on the ground.  Taking the sight in with a glance she betrayed no reaction, simply staring at Maddox with an intense gaze.

‘Zayden got stabbed in the stomach,’ Maddox said quietly.

‘Where is he?’ Lenski asked with sudden concern.

‘They took him inside.’ Maddox replied to the already running form of Lenski sprinting for the door.  She pushed her way through the youths and disappeared inside.

‘I got this bruv,’ Darius said from nearby and motioning his head towards the dead body, ‘do what you gotta do, we’ll get it cleared up.’

Maddox nodded and walked quickly after Lenski, the crowd parting as the poker faced man walked through and entered the gloom of the units.

Inside, he made his way through the building to the lights in the rear section with the adult plants.  Zayden laid out on blankets.  The tiny body looking more like the child he was than ever before.  His top pulled up to show the bright red blood making his skin look pale and white.  The body inert, the chest not rising or falling.  Maddox stops inches from his head and looks down to the pale face and the eyes staring lifelessly up at him.  From this angle it looks like Zayden is staring straight into Maddox’s eyes.  He survived the apocalypse only to die on the filthy floor of a drugs factory, stabbed to death by a teenager high on drugs and booze.  Streaks of tears mark the child’s face forming clean lines through the dirt.  The blood on his hands is red and wet, glistening from the lights shining on the plants.

Thoughts burn through Maddox’s mind, spiralling and plummeting but still his face remains expressionless.  Not one kid had been lost since this began.  There had been injuries, sprains, cuts but not one of them had been bitten, but right here and now, staring down at the lifeless form of a child bled out from a needless single stab to the stomach makes him feel dirty.

‘What we do now?’ Lenski stood up wiping the blood from her hands on a rag.

‘We bury him,’ Maddox replied.

‘Where?’

‘Here.’

‘No. We need the ground for crops, not here.’

‘Where then?’

‘Somewhere else, is there a church here?’

‘Yeah, and a synagogue and a mosque, but no ground on any of them.  Just buildings.’

‘Somewhere, do you know his house?’

‘Yeah.’

‘It has garden?’

‘No, he lived in a council flat.’

‘At the school then?’

‘We need the field for crops too…and he hated school, they all did.’

‘I not know,’ Lenski sighed dropping her head.

‘Wrap the bodies in refuse bags and sheets; put them in the sentry hut.’

‘Okay, I do this. Where are you going?’

‘To see the Bossman.’

Maddox walked away, shoulders brushing against the leaves of the plants stretching out to absorb the light shining down.  Sweat on his head shining from the heat and humidity.  He walked through the units, reaching the door of the Bossman’s room, walking straight in without pause.  The lights off and the room reeked of cannabis, heavy smoke hung in the air stinging his eyes and catching in his throat.  The soft orange glow ignites from the chair behind the desk as the Bossman inhaled another drag of his joint.  Maddox stands feet from the desk, his anger and hurt suddenly abating from the shock of finding the Bossman sat alone in the dark.  His eyes slowly adjust to the gloom as the light from the still open door permeates the room.  The silhouette of the Bossman forms gradually.  Sat back in his chair and staring straight at Maddox.  Waiting in silence.

‘Is he dead?’ The Bossman asked his voice low and hoarse from the harsh smoke.

‘Yes,’ Maddox replied.

Silence descended again.  Oppressive and charged, the end of the joint flares as another drag is taken.  The Bossman exhaled slowly, smoke spiralling from his mouth.

‘Ryker stabbed him,’ Maddox added.

‘So you shot Ryker,’ the Bossman’s reply is instant and challenging.

‘He stabbed Zayden,’ Maddox replied equally as quickly.

‘So that makes you jury judge and executioner does it?’

‘What?’

‘You’re a killer,’ the statement is tinged with a very slight slur but the tone is dangerously low.

‘We’ve all killed,’ Maddox said.

‘The infected don’t count,’ the Bossman said.

‘So what should I have done?’ Maddox asked after a long pause.

‘I’ve been watching you Maddox, watching how they come running to you.  They didn’t come to me when Ryker stabbed Zayden, they ran to you.’

‘You put me in charge, I been on the ground with them for the last few days…’

‘So that makes you number one now does it?’

‘What? No!’

‘Seems like it to me, Maddox the great.  Doesn’t smoke weed, doesn’t drink.  Holier than fucking thou ain’t ya…

‘Boss…’

‘…You sold this shit and made money but you never touched it, never liked being out of control did you Maddox.  Now look at you, got a whole camp running at your every whim, shooting little kids in the face…’

‘Boss!’

‘Go and wash my boys and girls…Go and eat vegetables my boys and girls, don’t smoke drugs my little children…I am Maddox.  I am fucking better…’

‘Boss please,’ Maddox asked his tone low and still unable to see the Bossman clearly in the dark shadows.

‘What?’ The Bossman suddenly asked, ‘what do you want from me?’

‘Ryker was bad, we talked about it earlier.  You told me to watch him…he fucking stabbed Zayden.  He had to go.’

‘Go?’

‘What…’

‘Go where Maddox, where did you send him?’

‘Boss, you know what I meant.  We couldn’t kick him out.  He’s too dangerous and could have whipped up support from the survivors on the estate.  We had to sort him…’

‘We Maddox, we did that did we? We decided to shoot him did we?’

‘You were watching, you could have said something.’

‘Say something to the mighty Maddox…you might have decided to shoot me with the other barrel.’

‘I wouldn’t do that,’ Maddox said softly.  The Bossman was stoned out of his mind, slurring but his voice was hard.  Maddox had never seen him like this.  Never seen him showing the effects of cannabis and never drunk.

‘Coming after me next are ya?’

‘No Boss.’

‘Wanna be number one eh my lad?’

‘No.’

‘Numero uno…Maddox the numero uno,’ the Bossman giggled suddenly.  The wheezing of his chest clearly audible.

‘Boss I’ll come back later.’

‘No!’ The Bossman snapped, stopping Maddox as he turned to the door, ‘you overstepped the mark boy…who are you to tell them not to smoke weed?’ The slur of his tone ends as he spit the words out.

‘They needed a break…’

‘Don’t speak back to me,’ the Bossman growled, ‘I’m the boss here Maddox.  I make the rules.  It seems you’ve gotten a bit too big for your boots my lad.’ The Bossman rose from the chair, stubbing the joint out and easing himself round the desk.  Pausing briefly to gain his balance from wobbling on unsteady feet he walked round to stand directly in front of Maddox.  Closer now Maddox can see his eyes are vacant from the weed and his face looks drawn.  Standing face to face the Bossman slapped Maddox round the face.  Once.  Hard.  The sound ringing out and causing Maddox to flare his eyes.  With gritted determination he stands his ground and shows no reaction.

‘Come on Maddox,’ the Bossman reeked of tobacco, alcohol and weed, breathing foul breath into Maddox’s face.  ‘Come on then boy,’ he goaded again, pushing Maddox in the chest.

Feeling a rare surge of anger Maddox squeezes his hands into fists at the side of his body, tensing his muscles and staring straight ahead.

‘You know what you are Maddox…’ The Bossman leant in, millimetres from the youth’s face, purposefully breathing a low blast of fetid air into eyes.  Maddox held his rage in check, hard lessons learnt from a hard life and every ounce of strength pitted against showing a reaction.

‘You know what you are…boy…’ the Bossman poked Maddox in the chest with the end of one finger, prodding his pectoral muscle and forcing him back a step.  Seeing the reaction, the Bossman repeated it, prodding harder and forcing Maddox back again.

‘I’m gonna tell you what you are….’ He poked his digit hard into the muscle forcing Maddox to half turn as he stumbled back, quickly regaining his balance and breathing deeply.

‘You…are a jumped up street nigger,’ the atmosphere changed instantly as Maddox whipped his head round to glare straight into the eyes of the suddenly frightened Bossman.  His fists clenched and he exhaled once.  The rage driven into cold fury and he lashed out hard.  Driving those already bloodied knuckles into the Bossman’s face.

The Bossman reeled back, slamming into the desk and crying out in a strangled yell.  Scrabbling furiously on the desk the Bossman brought his knee up hard into Maddox’s groin.  He flinched back enough for the Bossman to roll away, falling with a thump to the floor and crashing into the chair he was using just seconds before.

Recovering quickly, Maddox knew this had to end.  The Bossman won’t stop now, his pride, his power, his survival hinges on beating Maddox.  Both men knew the prize at hand and the forfeit if they lost.  Maddox launched himself over the top of the wide desk intent on landing on the older man and finishing the job.  The Bossman, suddenly alert and realising the danger grabbed at the pistol grip poking out of the open drawer.  Maddox slammed into him, driving him down into the ground and forcing the air from his lungs.  The Bossman, in reaction tensed his hands and pulled the trigger of the pistol not seen by Maddox.  The gunshot deafened them both in the enclosed room, the ricochet pinging off followed instantly by the sound of splintering wood.  Maddox reacted quickly, now knowing his employer and mentor was holding a gun he drove the back of his elbow into the Bossman’s skull.  His face slammed against the hard floor, nose breaking as the Bossman screamed with agony pulling the trigger again and desperately trying to buck the youth off.

Maddox slammed his elbow down again and went for the gun, reaching out with both hands to grip the pistol and twisting round to drive his feet repeatedly into the Bossman’s head and neck.  The gun fired again as the Bossman tried to desperately empty the magazine before Maddox gained control of the weapon.  Gunshot after gunshot rang out as they fought, kicking, writhing and screaming with terrified rage.  Maddox lifted his foot and slammed the heel down on the side of the Bossman’s face breaking the cheekbone.  The grip on the pistol loosened enough for Maddox to twist it free from his hand.

Losing the gun and screaming in terror the Bossman rolled away as Maddox fumbled with the weapon, got his hand on the grip and his finger on the trigger and fired point blank range into the solid mass of the Bossman.  Two shots ripped through his upper body and the third made a small neat entry into his cheek and took the back of his head off.  Skull, brains and blood sprayed out in a wide arc coating the wall.

Maddox stayed in position, breathing hard and hardly believing what had just happened.  His ears were ringing from the gunshots, the stench of cordite and cannabis made his eyes water.  The Bossman lay dead just a few feet from him.  The back of his head gone.

Slowly he lowered the pistol and gave a silent thanks for the lessons the Bossman had given him, showing him how to load, clean and fire the different guns available on the black market.  Using the desk he levered himself up and stared down at the third person killed in the compound within the last few minutes.  Two of them from his own hands.

‘Maddox…’ Lenski whispered.  Leaning on the desk he dropped his head and looked back at the door and Darius, Sierra and Lenski stood there.

‘He went for me…’ Maddox straightened up and turned towards them, the pistol held down at his side.

‘We saw,’ Darius said quietly.

‘Is he dead?’ Sierra asked their view of the Bossman blocked by the desk and the gloom.

‘Yeah,’ Maddox replied looking back at the corpse.  Lenski entered first, carrying a large torch and shining it down onto the body.  The other two filtered in behind her and stared down.  After nine days of constant killing neither of them flinched at the corpse but they both reeled from the implication.

‘I shouldn’t have come in here,’ Maddox shook his head, ‘I knew he’d be stoned…but not that much.’

‘Bruv, after what happened you had to see him innit,’ Darius said, ‘he fucked up.’

‘Maddox, this not your fault.  He called you nigger and he hitting you.  He try to shoot you.’

‘I know,’ Maddox breathed out deeply, ‘how’s everyone out there?’

‘You not worry, they good now.’

‘Did anyone else see it?’ Maddox asked worrying if the news had yet spread.  On seeing the nods he groaned, knowing the camp would be buzzing and terrified from the killings and what it meant.

‘Come on,’ he nodded as he moved towards the door.

‘What you do?’ Lenski reached out pulling his arm back to turn Maddox round.

‘We need to speak to everyone.’

‘Now?’ Darius cut in.

‘Yeah now,’ Maddox stared at Lenski, not wanting to pull his arm away by force.  She dropped her hand and nodded, knowing it was the right thing to do.

The four of them filed out of the room as the full weight of the consequences hit Maddox.  This was his.  His compound.  These were his people.  Ending it like this was wrong.  But it had happened and Maddox knew there was a secure compound of feral youths, drugs, booze and guns and if he didn’t act quickly it would fall within hours.

Lenski picked up on a similar train of thought herself.  At first she thought her and the other older girls had been allowed in to give sexual favours or services to the older lads and the Bossman.  But despite some clumsy flirty comments from a few youths, not one of them had tried anything.  Even the Bossman had acted properly and he could have taken what he wanted with impunity.  Lenski had watched Maddox transform over the last few days.  At first he followed the Bossman at every step, but now he made his own decisions with confidence.

They walked through the units and past the blood stains on the ground where Zayden had bled out before his body was removed.  Youths were all through the units staring quietly as Maddox and the others walked through.  They ran ahead and out the doors, alerting the others that Maddox was coming out.

As they stepped out of the units and into the cooler night air Maddox saw the fire in the pit was still burning and the music decks were being slowly dismantled.  The atmosphere was electric as terrified faces stared at him.  Eyes wide with the shock of seeing Ryker kill Zayden.  Then Maddox kill Ryker and now hearing that the Bossman had attacked Maddox.

Maddox, leading Lenski, Darius and Sierra moved over to the pit so the flames would illuminate him, making him visible to everyone.  He stood silent for a few seconds breathing deeply and staring down at the dancing flames.  The smell of wood smoke was a blessed change from the reek of cannabis and pistol fire.

‘The Bossman, he attacked Maddox,’ Lenski spoke out in a clear loud voice surprising Maddox. ‘I see this, Darius and Sierra they see this too.  He attack Maddox and call him the street nigger,’ gasps sweep round as air is sucked in quickly.  It wasn’t the word used that made them gasp.  The word was familiar to them in everyday language, as well as a thousand other insulting and extreme words.  What made them prick up was that Maddox had been called it.  And by the Bossman.

‘The Bossman tried to shoot Maddox with the pistol,’ Lenski said.  ‘Maddox defend and he kill the Bossman.’  Audible gasps, mouths drop open and eyes go wide as the rumour so freshly circulated and hardly believed, despite the gunshots, was so quickly and bluntly confirmed.

‘Listen up,’ Maddox’s deep voice boomed out. ‘This happened but it doesn’t change anything for us.  We still the same and we carry on like we were.  You still get food and clothes, we still run this estate and this is still our base.  The Bossman was a good man, but the weed fucked him up.  It made him paranoid and sick, same with Ryker.  It fucks you up good and proper if you take it all the time.  We got a lot of work to do now…’

‘Are you in charge now Maddox?’ One of the youths called out.

‘You the Bossman now?’ Another voice added.

‘I am in charge now,’ Maddox nodded, ‘but I’m not the Bossman, he’s dead.  I’m still Maddox.’

‘Do we still call you Maddox?’ The first voice called out again.  Maddox smiled to himself at the thought that the youths need that authority to cling on to, who is in charge? Who is boss?

‘Nah you’s got to call me Mr Maddox Sir now innit bruv,’ the youths laughed at the quick joke and Maddox smiling.  He looked normal to them.  The same man they’d come to accept as their leader over the last days.  The Bossman was always spoken about but it was Maddox who did all the work and they all knew it.

‘It’s Maddox,’ Maddox added quickly before anyone could think it was his real name from now on.

‘Get some rest, we’ll sort this out and everything will be okay.  Crew chiefs come over here for a minute…well what you’s looking at? Go on, get some rest.’ The youths shuffled away as the crowd broke up.  The same Maddox as every other night telling them to go to sleep and rest.  Re-assured that things seemed okay they formed groups and talked quietly.  Most of them still coming down from the weed smoked through the evening.

Maddox waited until the crew chiefs were assembled round him, nodding at some of the youths hanging around too close, motioning them to move away with a warning smile.

‘That was bang out of order he calling you that,’ Skyla said, moving to stand close by Maddox and already pulling the zip down to show her heaving cleavage.

‘That’s fuckin’ sweet that you’re in charge now Maddox,’ Ryland said with a grin.

‘Yeah,’ Maddox nodded back, ‘listen, when the survivors on the estate find out the Bossman is dead they’ll think we’re weak,’ He explained watching their faces, ‘so they might come and try it on here, try and get in or take over.  I want double guards on here which means the crews will be smaller, so I want each crew to pair up with another one.  The chiefs share the responsibility and also I want one crew chief awake all the time and overseeing the guards.’ The chiefs listened intently as Maddox outlined the immediate changes.  Drawing up a list of watches starting from then and telling the chiefs he wanted them checking the gate and walking the compound too.

As he spoke, more idea’s started forming.  More plans and the realisation that he could implement what he wanted now without having to check first.  He held himself back from going through more, seeing the chiefs yawning and fidgeting.

Eventually he sent them off, reminding them to stick to the watch list and report directly to him or Lenski if anything happened.

Maddox took Ryland and Darius into the Bossman’s room and wrapped the heavy body in black bin bags before rolling him and the bits of him splattered about, into a sheet and carrying him outside to join the other two bodies in the sentry hut.

Finally at some point during the early hours he entered his room and collapsed exhausted on the bed.  Staring up at the low ceiling, his mind a blur with the future and how things can be different. How he can make them different.  Less drugs.  Better food.  Safer.

Something about the deaths he caused and the emotions he felt sparked a thought process and awakened a sense of remorse about the survivors killed on the estate.  They had to be dealt with, that much was for sure but now after this night he realises that death was easy to give.  If there is to be a future then it should be a decent one, otherwise what’s the point?  Why go through all this just so they can kill more people?

The sudden realisation that what they’ve been doing is wrong burns through his soul.  This isn’t the way; he knows this but the thoughts become muddled and slip into visceral images spinning through his head as he drifts into the first layer of sleep, images of Zayden stood out on the junction holding his bleeding stomach while laughing about the box of condoms.

The eighteen year old hardened criminal sleeps fitfully as he becomes the new leader of a community of drug addicted kids, and one with a sudden conscious.

Three

Day Ten.

Sunday.

Maddox wakes instantly from the loud knocking at his door, still dressed and flat on his back in the same position that he flaked out in just a few hours ago.

‘Yeah?’ His voice sounds deep and ragged, unrecognised by his own ears.  The door opens to show Lenski stood there smiling and holding two steaming mugs.  She’s dressed in different clothes, jeans and a simple top.  She looks clean and fresh.

‘Everything okay?’ He asks quickly.

‘Sure sure,’ she waves her free hand gently, motioning him to stay put, ‘I knew you want to be awake before the youths yes? So I bring you coffee.’

‘Coffee,’ Maddox repeats the word dumbly before collapsing back down.  He stretches his arms and legs out groaning noisily.

‘Ssshh,’ Lenski laughs, ‘they will think we are doing the sex.’  She stands at the end of the bed staring down as Maddox looks up quickly from the mention of the word sex from a beautiful woman stood in his room, ‘ha! That got you awake,’ she laughs again.

‘Not funny,’ Maddox groans sitting up and extending his hand for the coffee.  She steps in and passes the cup.  Fingers brushing as his hands fumble to grip the hot ceramic mug. ‘Thanks,’ he murmurs.  She sits down next to him on the bed as he takes the first sip and rubs his face with his free hand.  Suddenly aware of her close proximity and the downward pressure of her weight on the mattress.

‘Last night it was crazy no?’ She says quietly.

‘Nuts,’ he replies, ‘anything happen overnight?’

‘Nothing, I took coffee out to the gate.  Skyla she was there, she does not like me I think.’

‘Why not?’ Maddox asked and instantly regretted it, knowing the reason why.

‘She like you,’ Lenski shrugs lightly, ‘you spend the time so much with me, she not like this.’

‘She’s young,’ Maddox mused, ‘they all are.’

‘But not you? I am only twenty one.  That make me old though to the children.’

‘Ancient,’ Maddox answered quickly with a quick smile.

‘You! I not ancient,’ she slaps his shoulder affectionately.  Leaving her hand there she squeezes his hard muscle, ‘are you okay?’ she asks with a worried expression.

‘About last night?’ Maddox answers feeling her hand rubbing and enjoying the pleasurable feeling.  Normally he’d flinch away from unwarranted contact from another person but her manner makes him relax and he doesn’t sense anything other than care from the woman.  No threat or clumsy flirting like with Skyla and the other girls.

‘Of course last night,’ she says continuing the rub and staring across at him.

‘Yeah it’s okay I think, nothing we can do now is there? Just got to roll with it.’ Lenski picks up on him saying we and not I.

‘No, nothing we can do.  It done now but I worry you feel bad for killing the Bossman and…’

‘He would have killed me; as soon as he said what he did I knew it was on.  There’s no going back from something like that.  He could have backed down, or I could have but it would have happened today or tomorrow.  Getting fucked up on weed and sat on his own would have made him worse.’

‘And Ryker?’ Lenski gently pushed the question, needing to know how Maddox was thinking about it now a night had passed.

‘It’s done,’ he says quietly, ‘we can’t lock people up here and if we sent him away he could have caused problems.  He had to die after what he did.  Zayden didn’t deserve that.’

‘Maddox?’ She asks in a quiet voice.  He turns to look into her eyes, her face looking soft instead of the normal hard stare, ‘maybe many they didn’t deserve the killing, maybe we not kill so many people now.’

‘I was thinking the same last night,’ they stare at each other, her hand still gently rubbing his back. ‘We’ll stop killing the survivors but we’ve got to do it carefully…’

‘Why?’

‘Like I said, they might see losing the bossman as a sign of weakness.  If we just suddenly stop killing and become nice, they’ll be in here and taking us over.  It needs to be done carefully, we still got a shit load of kids here that need protecting and there’s so much we don’t know too.  The Bossman knew about the Dysentery, none of us would know that.’

‘Not the word maybe we do not know, but being clean is obvious no?’

‘There could be a hundred things like that we don’t know about…’

‘Then we will find them no? We make it work.’ Lenski says softly, her hand still gently massaging his back.

‘Yeah,’ Maddox whispers staring at her, the atmosphere suddenly becoming charged.  Eyes locked on each other they gently lean in, closing the gap.  Two hearts hammering in two chests.  Two young minds drawn together.  The youths, the chiefs they all have Maddox and Lenski to take care of them.  Maddox and Lenski have but each other and the weight they feel is suddenly shared.  Two people that moved in different circles never associated and never knew the other existed.  They may have crossed each other in the street with barely an appreciative glance at the others attractive form, but that would have been it.

After what seems an eternity their lips brush and gentle kissing continues for long minutes as the heat between them builds, still clutching their coffee mugs they move to embrace and laugh when the contents slosh over the rims of the mugs.  The brief diversion does nothing to end the moment as the cups are lowered and they fall back onto the bed.  Kissing passionately, touching, caressing.  The need for contact, for that thing of closeness that every human strives for.  Not drunk, not stoned, not some random act taking place after a nightclub.  Two people taking the lives of many in their hands and needing an escape.  The constant state of extreme emotion, surrounded by death and suffering vents as the pressure between them explodes into an urgent loving ecstasy.

Maddox, for an eighteen year old male is tender, loving and caressing.  Knowing his hands are strong he restrains himself which sends shivers down Lenski’s body.  Her slim athletic frame grips the hard muscles in his arms, feeling the ridges of his abdominal muscles.  Sensing his power, his aura.  Feeling safe and protected.  He, in turn feels nurtured and loved and in a strange way he also feels protected.  The hardened young man knows his physical prowess and has worked hard to become strong and healthy, but with Lenski he feels protected from the psychological draw of going back to what it was.  With her understanding him, even for this short time, he feels empowered to try and change.

Tenderness builds gradually until it becomes an urgent need and they make love.  Desire wants and needs, emotions so powerful they cannot be expressed by words pour from them.  Instinct moves them, propels them to action.  The intrinsic need to progress the species tempered by the one thing that marks humanity apart from all else.  Love.

It’s over in minutes but it’s enough for both of them.  Enough to forge that contact and make that connection.  A contract drawn between them of mutual respect, desire and genuine care.

The suns golden rays penetrate the once grimy window, wiped and scrubbed by Maddox so he could always have a sight of the world outside.  Dust particles glint and dance as the warm air settles over the naked forms lying with entwined arms upon the small bed.  The contrast between them is stark.  The pale, slender curves of Lenski snuggling in close against the dark, defined frame of Maddox.  They kiss more, stroking and smiling in the early morning light.  Faint noises caused by the rustle of bed clothes, exhaling and the soft sound of skin against skin.  Delight in both their faces.  Eyes bright and searching, staring, gazes being held.  They shuffle up to a seated position; Lenski reaches down with her slender arms to bring both their mugs up.  The coffee, still warm is sipped quietly as they manoeuvre to maintain the closeness.  Neither one wanting to break the spell.

To the south, across an expanse of deep blue water, at the end of a long wooden pier Howie and Lani clasp hands as they lay down to sleep, exhausted from battle and in need of that same contact, that same connection.  Fingers as entwined as the limbs of Maddox and Lenski.

Humanity rolls on.  Awakening inside young hearts as love builds.

‘LISTEN UP!’ Maddox’s voice booms out across the compound.  Young tired faces stare back, sipping the bottles of water handed out with the order to get them finished.  Maddox stands tall and erect next to the pit, one foot raised on a log used for seating.  Lenski nearby, holding her clipboard close to her chest and watching with pride as her lover commands every face within the base.

‘No patrols today, maybe later but not now.  We are going to extend the base.  The houses either side of the road leading away from the base will be taken in and the fence will be pushed to the end of the junction.  Then we’re going to put the fence into the gardens at the end of the junction.  They’ve got high walls all round them so we still get the protection but we get more space.  We will knock the garden walls down between here and the junction so we make the ground open all the way to the end.  That gives us more space for planting food to grow and it gives us more privacy.  The two houses on the end will be used as sentry points with guard rooms, that means we can use height to look down and see further.’ Maddox pauses briefly, drawing breath and making sure they’re still watching him.  The faces remain fixed, hanging off every word he says.

‘Every crew will be given a job and the chief will make sure that job is done properly.  It’s gonna be a hard day and we’ll need one crew keeping guard, make sure your weapons are close all the time.  Anyone caught without their weapon nearby will be washing all the shit smeared pants, you get me? That means you Liam.’ The youths burst out laughing as Liam takes a deep bow grinning happily at being named.

‘Darius is moving up too, so that means we need two more crew chiefs.  Work hard and we’ll see who stands out today,’ that got their attention with the prospect of moving up to one of the coveted jobs.  Maddox turns and nods the pre-arranged signal at Lenski who steps forward examining her clipboard.

‘Sierra will take first guard out on the junction,’ Lenski looks up to see Sierra nodding back.  She already knew parts of the plan and had been warned her crew would be first up for guarding.

‘Darius will take his crew and Ryker’s to the shops down the road and bringing back the scaffold please yes? Skyla, can you take your crew and start knocking down the walls into the gardens on the right side and Mohammed the left side.  Aaliyah you will be taking crew with Jagger and Ryland and help with the moving the fence yes? Questions?’

‘Are we gonna live in the houses?’ Liam shouts.  A good question noticed by Maddox and Darius and already a contender emerges for one of the crew chief slots.  More questions get thrown up once Liam got his answer, which was that they didn’t know yet.  Maddox and Lenski field most of the questions, with Darius stepping up to take one or two and asserting his role at the top of the table.  Not one youth picks up on Maddox’s change in manner, his use of normal speech instead of the usual street talk; even Darius drops some of the slang in favour of trying to be like Maddox, noticed with a wry smile by Sierra.

The crews move about getting into their groups as the serious work of the day begins.  Confusion descends for the first few minutes as each chief is bombarded with more questions, they in turn seek out the new leaders to find out exactly how they’re going to do what they’re tasked with.

The fence is the first thing once Sierra has moved out to the junction and staggered her crew out across the roads.  The crews gather round and slowly figure out what tools are needed to detach the gates from the high fencing and the drilled bolts in the ground, and then half dragging, half carrying the heavy loads down to the junction.  Once they’re sure the fence can be erected safely, only then does Maddox give the order for Skyla and Mohammed to start bashing the high brick walls down.  Making sure they understand to only make enough room for two or three people to walk through and no bigger.

As the sun rises so does the volume of the young voices, shouting out and calling to each other, all the time working like demons with a sense of urgency and purpose.  Darius leads his two crews out from the compound, a quiet word already spoken with Liam, telling him to keep an eye on the younger ones and be ready to help.  That was all it needed and the young lad is transformed with his chest puffed out and a serious look in his eye.

Throughout the hot morning they work hard.  Walls are knocked through as the children get coated in brick dust and filth.  A few cuts and bruises here and there quickly tended to by the ever watchful Lenski and her girls.  The plants forgotten for the day as everyone comes out of the units to get stuck in.  Maddox works hard, moving between the crews and helping lift, carry, move and graft shoulder to shoulder with everyone else.  He takes the time to comment and praise the hard working youths.

As the last section of fence is moved up and stacked at the junction Darius returns with a long line of children carrying scaffolding poles and wooden boards, he ditches them down and sends Liam back with Ryker’s crew to bring the rest.

‘Alright Maddox, what’s up?’ he takes the bottle of water held out by the leader.

‘Nuffin’, you?’

‘Nuffin.’ They both grin at the long standing greeting shared by them for years. ‘That Liam, he doin’ well bruv.’

‘Good, he’s up for crew chief then?’

‘Yeah I think so,’ Darius replies, trying to remember not to use so much slang now.

‘Did you see any infected?’ Maddox asks.

‘None, not one,’ Darius replies with a shrug.

‘We need to move quickly and get those fences up, we’re undefended now,’ Maddox says looking back down the road and straight into the compound.

‘Where do you want me?’ Darius asks.

‘Everywhere,’ Maddox says with a big grin making Darius laugh at seeing his best friend so animated instead of the usual deadpan poker face.

Four

The infection is everywhere.  In every village, every town, every city and every country and it targets those that cause the most damage.  Knowing that in order to survive those killers must be stopped.

All across the world, the undead gather in great numbers headed by a host body of enhanced powers, and of ever changing and evolving abilities.  The infection works quickly to understand the human brain and the processes it can achieve.

Telepathy has been accomplished by the infection manipulating the blood cells passed from the enhanced host into the bodies of the infected.  The few remaining survivors spread across the planet are outnumbered so vastly but still they fight back and inflict huge losses to the hosts.

For every human taken, many hosts fall and the infection knows it cannot withstand this rate of attrition.  Without conscious thought the infection cannot simply choose to disengage and withdraw.  Survival means being finding new hosts and preventing the loss of the ones already taken.

In the south of England.  Past the northern edge of a vast and sprawling council estate a lone zombie stands staring on the motorway which forms the border of the huge urban jungle.  Skin a sickly pallor, dried blood round his mouth, clothes filthy, torn and hanging from his gaunt frame.   Losses have been taken here, far too many.  Inflicted by young host bodies fighting with an alarming and ferocious savagery.

The zombie stands erect and with intelligence within the red bloodshot eyes.  An adult male employed as a taxi driver before he was blessedly taken into this new state of being and for the last day he has been busy.  Busy finding hosts, drawing blood and building resources.  Summoning every host for miles and drawing them here.

Past the motorway, over the crash barrier and above the slight incline hordes of undead gather in the rolling fields.  The drooling decaying fetid undead shuffle and groan quietly.  Sensing the need to stay in this place despite the urge to move and find food.  The undead shuffle in from every direction, massing in great numbers.

Still wearing his blood splattered photo identity badge from his previous life, the super zombie stares into the estate.  Patiently waiting as more bodies shuffle into view, stumbling across the sun baked tarmac to join the legion.

This enhanced host has learnt, as Darren did, that moving too fast during the day weakens the bodies.  So it conserves that energy.  The only thing it doesn’t know is if it can resist the urge until night fall, or whether he will succumb to the depraved hunger and charge earlier.

Five

Maddox stands back from the junction, looking down towards the compound, now out of sight behind the high fence and gates erected across the road.  Panels fixed to the sides of the houses, using the tools the Bossman sourced during the first couple of days, and copying how he drilled into the ground and bolted the thick metal posts into place and attaching the panels to the posts.  The walls of the houses on either side form a solid line down to their garden walls, and more high fencing topped with coiled razor wire has been fixed against the walls, providing a solid unbroken line, securing the base within.

‘Check the gates,’ he yells out and watches as Darius pushes both the solid metal gates out.  Wide enough to drive a lorry through they push out to a ninety degree angle.  Satisfied Maddox shouts to close them back up.

The next decision is where to put the guard tower.  They can use the upstairs windows of the houses to view down the opposite street but not the full length of the street opposite.  He wants the tower outside of the gates, in the middle of the junction but that would mean whoever was inside it could get isolated or trapped.  Maybe something could be rigged up from the top of the tower to the window of the closest house, an escape route.  But the gap is too big; if he moved the tower closer to the building they would lose the view.

‘Where you puttin’ it?’ Darius asks as Maddox walks back through the gate into the now extended compound.

‘We’ll try behind the gate first, we’ll get a bit of a view of the side streets but a full view of that one,’ he points to the road leading away opposite them, ‘we’ll have people in those windows too.’

‘So we got to cover the front, the sides and the back too?’ Darius questions with a serious look, ‘if we’re all at the front or in the units it leaves the back open.  Why not just use a crew each night, you know, make them in charge of the security for that night and they can rest the next day.’

‘I like it Darius,’ Maddox nods with respect, ‘fuckin’ good idea, yeah you get that sorted then.’

‘I’m on it!’ Darius grins broadly at having his suggestion taken on board.

Leaving Darius to oversee the scaffold tower, Maddox makes his way down the short road, admiring the greater stretch of ground they have gained, looking at the front of the houses on either side and wondering how to make best use of them.  As he nears the old fence point Lenski walks out from the end of the unit clutching her clipboard and drinking from a bottle of water.

‘The fence it look good yes?’ She asks, handing him bottle.  He takes the water and takes a long plug from the top, feeling the refreshing liquid cascade down his parched throat.

‘Yeah, we got it all fixed in, Darius just doing the tower now.’ They fall into step side by side, walking towards the sounds of banging, shouts and clouds of dust as the kids happily smash walls down.  Stepping over the fallen bricks and debris they look through to the end; a clear line of sight through the small gardens to the high end wall and the even higher fencing fixed against it.  The youths working here, smashing up the big lumps of concrete and wall to make them easier to move look up and smile as Maddox and Lenski walk through.

‘We should use the houses for the crews no? Ten houses we have gained here, the five on each side so with eight crews is good yes?’ Lenski asks, watching Maddox finish the water off, he lowers the bottle and grins apologetically.

‘Sorry, I was thirsty.’

‘This I see,’ Lenski says with one raised eyebrow, ‘you like idea, we put crews here yes?’

‘Yeah I think so,’ Maddox agrees and outlines the details of Darius’s plan to keep one crew up everynight and tasked with security.  They stroll through to the end, and then back out and up the other side.

‘Maybe we give the crews the food for the week and they do as they want with it?’ Lenski suggested.

‘Nah,’ Maddox laughed, ‘they’ll eat the best stuff the first night and sell the rest for drugs.’

‘Oh the drugs, what we do with them?’

‘I know what I want to do,’ Maddox drops his voice, and Lenski notices the hard edge to his tone, ‘I’d fuckin’ burn the lot of ‘em.’

‘We do this yes?’ Lenski urged.

‘Not yet, one step at a time.  Remember where these kids have come from.  They’ve grown up on this shit so we need to tread carefully.  And there will be plenty of people out there that will still want it.’

‘For what? Why they need this drug now?’ Lenski demanded with a scowl.

‘Look what’s happened, the worlds fucked up overnight.  Maybe that shit might make it easier for them or something.  The point is there are people that will want it, so we can use it for trade.’

‘Okay,’ she shrugs clearly not convinced but willing to let the point go for now. ‘What you do next?’

He sucks in a breath and lets rip, ‘get the scaffold up and work out where to put the tower, then gotta look at the houses and make sure they all the same size otherwise it’ll spark the crews off if one gets something the others don’t, then we need beds and bedding and while we’re moving all the stuff from the tents we need to check to make sure they’re clean.  We also got to work out a way to divide the rooms up and give everyone equal space, now do we give the crew chiefs their own room or not because these houses ain’t that big really….’

‘Okay okay,’ she waves her clipboard to slow him down, ‘I take the point.’

‘Yeah…lots to do,’ he cocks his head to one side staring at the freckles on her nose.

‘You very busy.’

‘We both are,’ he nods.  She nods back.

‘See you in your room in two minutes?’ She asks quietly.

‘Definitely,’ he replies.  They walk separate directions as Lenski jogs back toward the unit and Maddox finds Darius to tell him to hold the fort.

‘Why where you going bruv?’ Darius asks in confusion while trying to organise the scaffold tower being erected.

‘Er…I got something to do.’

‘Where ?’

‘Inside,’ Maddox stares at the distracted lad trying to convey a message to stop asking.

‘Inside?’ Darius asks while hefting a long pole, ‘what you doing inside?’

‘I need to speak to Lenski…’

‘Lenski?’ Darius repeats.  He catches the glare from Maddox and stares back dumbly for a second before finally catching on, ‘oh Lenski!’ He laughs with delight, ‘yeah of course bruv, you go have that private chat and I’ll stay here.’

‘Yeah thanks,’ Maddox growls softly and walks off leaving Darius smiling and shaking his head.  He makes himself walk at a normal pace towards the unit, checking about him, nodding and waving at the youths and girls coming and going.  Once inside he checks about, making sure he’s out of sight and starts running to his room.  Bursting in and finding Lenski already undressed and laying naked on his bed.

‘I think Darius knows,’ Maddox says as he quickly strips off.

‘About us? Is that good?’ Lenski asks with a grin.

‘Right now…I don’t care.’ He dives onto the bed provoking a squeal from Lenski that’s quickly cut off as their mouths find one another.  Furious but fun work takes place both inside his room and all across the compound as slowly a new community is forged.

Six

‘I’m telling you they’re just little kids, the little shits we’d see running around here on their bikes,’ Jeff yells, wincing at the pain from his black eye and swollen nose.

‘Jeff, we agree,’ the man opposite him implores, ‘but they’re tough little bastards and they got guns.  Look in the bloody mirror if you don’t believe what they can do.’

‘This?’ Jeff points at his own bruised face and moves round in a circle to take in the faces of the crowd gathered together, ‘this was a lucky shot done by some little wanker, I would’ve stopped him but he had two little bastards with shotguns stood right behind him.’  The two women with him yesterday raise their eyebrows knowingly.  Jeff didn’t have time to react, that youth moved so fast none of them saw it coming until it was too late.

‘Now listen,’ Jeff softens his tone and looks round at the survivors all brought together in the main library of the council estate.  This being the least likely place the kids would go to.  Surprisingly, not one survivor had seen a zombie or a youth so far today.

‘Now come on, listen,’ Jeff repeats, ‘they’ve taken all our food, our supplies and for what?’

‘Well we all got here without being eaten.’ A voice shouts from the back, ‘they’ve got rid of the dead things.’

‘Yes well,’ Jeff bridles at the quick answer, ‘be that as it may but we have all seen how slow those things are during the day.  Any of us could have killed them off.’

‘But we didn’t,’ the same voice shouts, ‘they did and I ain’t seen one of them since late yesterday afternoon.’

‘But the fact is we could have done if we wanted, but we couldn’t because we were too scared of those bloody kids.  Did you see what they did to old Naylor?’

‘He was a bloody idiot,’ that same blasted voice shouts out again, irritating Jeff and making him wince more than the pain on his face.  ‘He was always getting nicked for knocking people about, thought he was a proper hard bastard he did.  Ha! Sod him, bloody kids did a good job if you ask me.’

‘But those bloody kids didn’t know he was like that did they, and they done it before and they’ll do it again.’

‘Has anyone seen them out today?’ that same bloody voice from the back asks.

‘Who is that?’ Jeff cranes his head over the tops trying to see.  Bodies shuffle out of the way as a bespectacled older man comes into view, smiling round at everyone.

‘Watcha,’ the man nods in greeting, repeated the word a few times as he stares round.

‘So has any of you seen the kids or what?’ the old man asks.

‘They were carrying some scaffolding poles from the shops earlier.’ Someone answers

‘Where to? Jeff asks.

‘Dunno, maybe that base they got.’

‘Yeah that base that’s got all our food and all the guns, that base with the big safe fences round it…’

‘What’s your point nipper?’ the old man asks.

‘My point,’ Jeff sighs, ‘is that they’ve got everything and we’ve got nothing and it ain't bloody right.  They’re just sodding kids!’

‘Kids eh?’ The old man asks.

‘Yes, kids!’ Jeff repeats as if that proved everything.

‘So you’re complaining because the children are safe and protected with lots of food behind big fences and lots of guns…the children that is…the small ones that…’

‘Well yes of course the children should be there,’ Jeff quickly cut across him fearing he was losing the point already, ‘but why should the rest of us suffer and go without.’

‘You got the whole estate, you can come and go as you want, take what house you want…’ the old man started counting the advantages off.

‘Well we can’t come and go as we want with those things out there.’

‘But we ain’t seen those things have we, those kids have killed ‘em all, those kids you’re complaining about…behind those big fences with the guns.’

‘YES ALRIGHT…thank you for that,’ Jeff rubbed his face and whimpered from the pain shooting through his nose, ‘all I’m saying is that we should all be behind the fences with the guns and the food, we should all be safe, then we’d have the guns and could kill those things.’

‘Oh them kids didn’t use guns on them things,’ the old man pulled his glasses off and started wiping the lenses with the corner of his filthy cardigan, ‘they did it with sticks, stones, bats, knives and their bare hands too,’ he added as he slid the glasses back onto his nose, ‘but not guns.’

‘But they had all the food,’ Jeff argued, ‘so they had the energy and the…the…well the energy.’

‘You said energy already,’ the old man smiled graciously, ‘and they we’re out by the next day killing ‘em before they got all the food.’

‘Have they taxed you old man?’ Jeff asked with an exasperated tone.

‘Me?’ the old man looked surprised, ‘of course they have.  Damn polite they were too, I said I was happy to give my half seeing as they got all them young mouths to feed and they was out killing the zombo’s and all that…some black kid, Madsticks or something, anyway damn polite he was and said if I had any grief I just had to tell him and he’d make sure it was sorted.’

‘Said the same to me,’ an older woman interjected.

‘His lot bloody killed my neighbour though, and in front of his wife.  She ain’t said a word since then.’ That’s what he wanted and Jeff seized on it quickly, turning to the man and shouting;

‘So your neighbour was an innocent man just trying to feed his family and these little shits killed him in cold blood.’

‘Well I wouldn’t quite say that,’ the man replied rubbing his chin, ‘see the bloke did go at ‘em with one of them samurai swords, you know…the ones you get from the Sunday newspapers…’murmurs and nods rumble quietly round the room, ‘yeah so he kind of did provoke them.’

‘Sounds like he was just trying to defend his property if you ask me, and right in front of his wife too you said…’

‘Yeah, right in front of her it was…after they took the other two swords of her that is. But still,’ the man’s voice trails off, unsure of what his original point was.

‘Right well I just don’t think we should be living a life of servitude under a communist regime designed to disinherit us of our hard earned possessions,’ Jeff said, remembering some of the course he was sent on by the trade union, he looked round to a sea of blank grimy faces and one old bespectacled man sniggering with mirth.

‘Thems words a bit much for us stupid council house folk I reckon,’ the old man smirked.

‘Why should we get robbed in our own homes, we need food too,’ Jess translated and got a few nods of encouragement now they understood what he meant.

‘They’re all drug addicts, high on crack and meth and speed, they’ll be selling our babies to the highest bidder before long and forcing us into the sex trade…’Jeff spun round sensing that he might just be getting somewhere, ‘and when this is over…when the government get control back, which they will, and when the army come rolling through here, which they will,’ Jeff’s voice rose in volume as he moved between the nodding faces.  Most of them unsure of why they were nodding but happy to be nodding all the same because they were scared and starting to get hungry and this man was saying things in a loud voice and he looked quite tough with those bruises, ‘they’re going to want to know why we didn’t stand up to a bunch of kids who were probably trained by terrorist camps, oh yes, they were probably trained by terrorist camps who want to end your way of life and make you slowly starve,’ Jeff spun round dramatically, seeing the startled faces watching him, ‘where do you think this started from eh? We’ve all heard of germ warfare haven’t we? We all know about dirty bombs don’t we? That’s what they’re doing here, dropping dirty bombs full of germs and turning people into flesh eaters while they steal our children and turn them into terrorists….well we won’t stand for it….no we won’t! They are dropping bombs and germs on us and taking our children, making us into sex slaves and forcing us to take crack up our veins! Well it stops now! It stops tonight! We will take out children back and give them the discipline they need.  Brain washed they are, and we need to de-brainwash them, so who will join me tonight in protecting our country and stopping those evil terrorists from injecting Heroin into our babies eyes?’

Every hand in the library rises, apart from one belonging to an old man with spectacles who tuts and shuffles his way through the idiotic and pumped up crowd to stand for a few minutes in the nice warm sunlight.  He quite liked the young lad called Madsocks or whatever it was; he was very polite and had a good firm handshake.  You can tell a lot about a man from the look in his eye and the hand he gives to shake.  The estate was probably the safest now that it ever has been so whoever that Bossman was, well he was doing a good job.

The old man sighed and wondered why people had to go and keep changing things.  It was quieter now, well now those bloody zombo things were gone and if it stays like this then the estate will be a very nice place to live again.

The old man looked up the street and contemplated going to that compound he’d been told about, just to warn them a little bit about some of these idiots coming to make complaints tonight.  Give ‘em a chance to get a few excuses ready, or even switch the lights off and pretend no one’s home.  But it is far away and the sun is very hot, so thinking maybe he would prefer a bottle of beer from the crate that nice young man left him to drink and those kids were sure to be round at some point today, he could tip them off then and save his tired old legs.

So, with a sigh, the old man slowly started making his way back along the debris littered, blood stained, corpse strewn street, back to his boarded up house to wait for the pack of feral kids to come back round.

Seven

‘Using a car battery would be hard as it would need to remain connected to the engine while it’s running otherwise it will drain too quickly.  But we could use that,’ Nick points to the long sleek vessel tied on to the end of the pier.  I look over at the big white catamaran used for carrying passengers between the Island and mainland.  With one main interior level for passengers and a small outside area on the top, it looks low and fast.

‘They have power sources running from the engine, all we’d need to do is start it up and they’ve probably got a facility on board to heat water too,’ Nick adds with a look of yearning in his eyes.

‘Hot water?’ I ask.

‘Yeah for the hot water taps in the toilets, can I have a go?’ Having brought me outside to show me his idea he stands waiting, itching to be given the nod to go and play on the big ship.

‘Do you think you could drive it?’ I ask him.

‘Drive it?’ He replies puzzled, ‘what for going back in? In that?’

‘Yeah why not?’

‘Bloody hell, yeah definitely,’ Nick laughs at the idea, nudging Tom and nodding towards it.

‘We’ll come on with you and make sure it’s clear then leave you to it; I’ll let the others know while you figure out a way of getting on it.’ Walking away I leave Nick and Tom talking excitedly about getting to drive the ship.  The end of the pier is huge, a vast open car park shaped like a hammer on the end of the long thin approach road.  Blowers and Cookey have sat on the reverse side, happily fishing away while maintaining a constant view of the land and the pier.  The catamaran is on the outside edge.  The only problem is that these waters are tidal which is why the pier was built in the first place. Even this far out from the shore the tide still comes in and out which means it was tied securely to the pier when the tide was in.  And then left there while the end of world began.  When the tide went out, the boat sank and ripped out all the ropes and mooring posts from the vast weight slowly sinking.  All but one rope must have snapped or torn free, leaving just one tied onto the front.  With the motion of the tide the ship has swung out and is facing the pier.  Later, when the direction of the tide changes the boat will come back and nudge against the structure.  Something it’s already done a few times judging by the dents alongside one side and the thick black scuff marks on the front.  Luckily, the weather has been exceptionally mild without high winds otherwise I’ve no doubt it would now be floating away to France or have smashed the pier up.

Walking back into the café I see Lani bending over in the large storeroom behind the counter, going through the shelves and sorting food out.  Again, and fortunately for us the café serves a mostly transient customer and with ferries coming and going every half hour during the summer it meant the waiting time was very limited, which also meant the café served mainly pre-packaged snack food.  Good for us as most of it was in the cooler store room and either still in date or just gone. Mostly muffins, cakes, biscuits and the like, and boxes of crisps and chocolate bars.  But it will have to do for now.  She catches me walking past and smiles sweetly, which I return without blushing for once.

At the back, Clarence sits dozing in a chair while Dave is seated off to one side, his knives all laid out on the table and a sharpening stone in his hand, running back and forth along the already lethal blade.

‘We’re going to try and board that big ship tied up, Nick thinks it will have power and maybe hot water if he can get it going,’ I explain.  Blowers and Cookey both twist round to listen and Clarence holds his hands over his eyes to shield them from the sun while squinting up at me.

‘Hasn’t it swung out?’ Clarence asks.

‘Yeah, we need to figure a way of getting on board and clearing it,’ as soon as the words are said they’re on their feet.  The rods get reeled in and put to one side as they gather axes and knives up.

‘You caught anything yet? I ask the lads.

‘We got a crab but it was as ugly as Blowers with massive pincers so we put it back,’ Cookey replies.  Lani joins us seeing the weapons being taken up and I quickly relay the plan while she grabs her meat cleaver.

Outside we walk to the outer edge and stand there staring at the vessel gently bobbing a few metres away.  I turn round and check our position, making sure we can still see the pier stretching out behind us down to the shore.

‘Well unless Clarence can pull it back in I reckon the easiest way is going to be along that rope,’ I nod at the thick taught rope stretched between the pier and the vessel.

‘There’s no movement on board,’ Clarence stares out with his eyes shielded from the sun again, ‘should be safe enough to get a couple on board and check it through.’

‘I’ll do it,’ Lani says, eyeing the rope.

‘Hang on,’ Clarence walks over to the rope secured to the mooring post and looks down at the length wrapped round the thick post, ‘there’s enough rope left to pull it back in, come on.’  He starts unwinding the rope from the post and feeds it out behind him as we run up and each take a double handed grip.

‘Ready,’ Clarence releases the last coil from the post and immediately the ship starts pulling us towards the edge.  The big man runs round to the back, grasping the rope and taking an anchor position as we start straining to pull it back in.

‘Shit,’ I grunt as the receding tide pulls the boat away from the shore.  The sheer weight of it outmatches even our combined pulling strength.  We dig in cursing and grunting but getting pulled gently towards the edge of the pier.

‘You didn’t think that one through Clarence,’ I shout through gritted teeth.

‘Sorry boss,’ he yells from the back.

The ship drifts away and we cling onto the rope refusing to give in, hoping we can prevent the motion and start dragging it back in.  The edge looms closer and closer with Lani at the front, followed by Dave and the rest of us stretched out in a line.  Clarence curses loudly as he slips on a patch of oil, without his strength we’re suddenly yanked forward.  With a yelp Lani sails over the edge of the pier followed by a yelling Dave.  As they release their grip, the boat gains more momentum and anyone left holding the rope is jerked towards the edge.  Everyone one of us sailing over the and into the blue waters with yells and shouts.

Plunging in and luckily the tide is still quite high so the drop isn’t too bad.  I push back up to the surface spitting water from my mouth.  A braying donkey sounds from somewhere and I turn round to look up at Clarence bent double and clutching his stomach as he laughs uncontrollably at the sight of the rest of us all bobbing in the water.

‘I want hot water,’ Lani yells out and swims after the rope.  Reacting quickly I swim after her with Nick right behind me.  We each gain a length of rope between our hands and start pulling ourselves hand over hand through the water with Lani in front moving swiftly along the rope.

She climbs nimbly clear of the water and scales the thick rope, using her feet against the side of the vessel and within a few seconds she reaches the top and pulls herself onto the front of the ship.  I go next gritting my teeth I start lifting myself out of the water.  If this had been two weeks ago I don’t think I would have stood much of a chance, but now with most of the fat burnt from my body and after constantly swinging the heavy axe I surprise myself with my strength and grin stupidly as I clamber up the side, copying Lani and using my feet to help me up.  Reaching the top I grab the side and lever myself in, falling down into a wet puddle.  Coughing and spluttering I go to stand up and watch as Nick’s grinning face reaches the lip, Lani and I help him over until we’re stood there dripping and smiling like idiots.

‘I bloody hope you can drive this thing,’ I nod towards the retreating pier and lift my arms high above my head to wave, showing the others that we made it.

‘Have either of you got a weapon?’ They both shake their hands after patting sodden pockets down.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll protect you both,’ Lani smiles and moves off down the side.  Nick and I shrug and walk along the narrow gangway towards the big sliding door.

‘Oh dear,’ Lani calls back after peering in through the glass.  Joining her we peer through the darkened glass at the group of undead all stood swaying in the middle of the floor.

‘Well its day so they’re slow,’ Nick muses, his breath misting the glass in front of his mouth.

‘Yeah but hand to hand?’ I answer, ‘only takes a bite mate.’

‘Open the door and lure them outside,’ Lani suggests.

‘Okay, grab those fire extinguishers as soon we get in, ready?’ They both nod and I pull the door back.  We rush into the cool interior and quickly yank the heavy metal cylinders free from their fixings.

The main level is the width of the vessel and fitted with rows of seats with two wide aisles running down either side.

We grab at the fire extinguishers and pull the covers off.  I get a big heavy red water filled one while the others get smaller chemical filled extinguishers.  The undead react and slowly shuffle round, giving groans as they see their lunch waiting for them.

‘Fuck is that the captain?’ Nick asks at the sight of the uniformed zombie with a dark blue suit with golden stripes on the cuffs and wearing a flat cap on the back of his head.

‘Guess so,’ I reply quietly as we back away towards the open door.  I pull the plastic strip from my handle and aim the hose at the approaching horde.  A jet of water sprays out as I squeeze the handle, soaking the zombies faces and having no effect other than washing some of the dried blood away.

‘Let me try,’ Nick says and pulls the strip out.  He steps in squirts foam into them from a few feet away.  Thick creamy foam that covers their faces.  They groan and moan at the abuse but other than that they keep coming.

‘My turn,’ Lani darts in and opens up with her chemical powder extinguisher.  The noise is really loud and makes Nick and I jump.  She holds the aim on one poor sod who gets blasted back by the high powered jet of powder.  He staggers into the others as the powder gets into his mouth.  He staggers back and tries shuffling again but then starts coughing and spluttering as he chokes on the power in his throat.  We watch in fascinated horror as the thing shuffles and flaps his arms about whacking the others and knocking the captain’s hat off.  Eventually he falls down and stays writhing on the ground.

‘Get another one,’ Nick urges.  Lani obliges by darting forward and squeezing the handle.  A thick jet flies out then ends abruptly.

‘Shit,’ she pumps the handle then steps in and swing the solid metal tube into the side of the zombies head, smashing it down onto the ground as she retreats back to the door.  We slowly move backwards and out onto the side of the ship.  The zombies follow with their awkward shuffle, reaching the threshold and getting bunched up as they all try and turn onto the narrow walkway running down the side.  Two of them simply fall off the side, unable to navigate the ground and stepping out into thin air.

Two left who amazingly keep on the narrow walkway, shuffling and swaying their way along.  I edge forward and jab the end of the tube into the face of the closest one.  He reels back a step and teeters of the edge before recovering and coming forward again.  I step in and jab out harder, forcing him to knock the other one of the side and down into the water.  With a smashed in nose he again recovers and starts shuffling towards us.

‘Hang on,’ Nick shouts and leans over me to fire his thick foam into its face and covering the eyes.  Blinded, the zombie groans loudly and keeps coming as I step in and swing my heavy water filled tube in a massive uppercut.  The impact reels the thing backwards onto its arse, it flails about for a couple of seconds before gently sliding off the edge and splashing into the water.

‘He’s extinguished,’ Nick says.

‘Ha nice one mate,’ I reply.

After throwing the bodies out the side door and into the sea, we quickly squelch down the aisles and clear the big room within a couple of minutes.  A door set into a large central column leads to a steep narrow staircase.  Going first I climb up and reach the bridge.  Expecting a bank of modern equipment I’m surprised at how minimalist the bridge is.  Just a central desk area with a few monitors but lots of switches, dials and levers.  Nick follows me and immediately goes to the unit.  His actions are the same as at Tower Bridge and he stares at the many instruments, running his fingers over them and murmuring to himself quietly.

‘There’ll be an engine room downstairs Mr Howie, could you clear that while I figure this out?’

‘Okay mate,’ I nod to Lani.  We go back down the stairs and start searching round for a way into the bottom of the boat.  More doors at the rear lead out onto a small platform with metal stairs leading up onto the top outside deck.  A solid metal door set into the rear of the vessel, painted white and with a thick metal bar handle locking it in place.  I pull the lever back; the door opens on soundless hinges presenting a wide staircase going down.  We step over the high ledge and descend into the engine room.

Gaining the bottom we peer down the dark length of the ship, the only light coming from the open door at the top of the stairs.  Standing still and breathing quietly we listen for any other noise.  Nothing, just the creak of the vessel.

‘Stay here,’ I whisper to Lani, she nods once and I move off down into the gloom.  My eyes adjusting as I gradually make my way down.  A large central engine block takes up most of the room, shiny with things poking out and tubes, wires and leads feeding off it.  Wide metal tubing snakes round the sides of the ceiling and the floor is bevelled stainless steel, offering good grip.  I keep my steps slow and steady, breathing gently and holding the fire extinguisher up high, ready to slam down onto any zombie faces that lunge in.  Nooks and crannies everywhere, deep recesses hidden in shadows, slowly I make my way down towards the rear, or would it be the front, yes it’s the front of the ship I’m heading towards but the back of the engine room.  Bloody military and bloody ships with different bloody words for everything.  We never had this problem at Tesco you know.

A loud clunk startles me from my internal moaning, followed by lights blinking on and the sound of things humming, whirring and other machine noises.  I tense up expecting there be someone stood there with a hand on the light switch while leaning back in a big black chair and stroking a white cat, ah Mr Howie…we’ve been expecting you…

Instead there’s just an empty room, well it’s empty of people, or undead anyway but filled with machines and the giant engine in the middle.  An old fashioned phone fixed to the wall chirps loudly, a bright red light fixed to the top flashes brightly.   Lani steps in with a puzzled smile and picks the phone up.

‘Hello, this is the engine room,’ she says with a very polite tone and listens for a few seconds, ‘please hold captain while I pass that message onto the chief engineer…it’s Nick’ she shouts to me, ‘he’s got an override system up there and said there should be a button or switch down here that you can use that will give him full control from the bridge.’

‘Hang on, any idea what it looks like?’ I stare round at the confusing mass of instruments and dials.

‘He said it’s probably either red or green colour, so that it’s easy to spot…his words not mine,’ she adds with a smile when I pass an eyebrow raised look.  I move over to a desk and start examining the display.

‘Captain…I don’t have the power...’ Lani speaks loudly into the handset with a mock Scottish accent making me laugh.

‘Got it,’ I shout over, switching the green button marked simply with control – engine – bridge. I select bridge and stand back feeling rather pleased with myself.

‘Mr Howie said he found it…uh huh…yep okay captain.’ She replaces the handset, ‘he said he’ll figure it out from here.’

‘You know I can’t believe we just bloody did that,’ I remark, ‘separating the group and putting ourselves in danger like that, no weapons and not really sure if we can get the thing going or not…that was a bad shout.’

‘We reacted with instinct Howie, it’s a good prize and worth a little risk and if it didn’t work then the others would figure out a way of getting to us.’

‘Yeah but what if something happened while we were separated?’

‘Howie, you can’t control everything and they know what they’re doing.’

‘No I didn’t mean they wouldn’t be able to function without us, bloody hell Dave and Clarence could do the work of twenty normal men.  I mean just being split up, I don’t like it.’  With a loud clunk the engine splutters into life.  A low grumble that slowly builds with a whine into a loud roaring that makes the floor vibrate.  We both smile hugs grins as the engine settles back down to a low steady rumble.

‘There you go,’ she smiles as I walk back towards her and the stairs.  The engine increases in pitch as the boat starts moving.  Down here with no windows we can’t tell how fast or what direction.  As I get closer to Lani the boat lurches round as Nick steers it over sending me flying into Lani stood only a few feet away.  We collide and grab out to steady ourselves, coming to rest face to face with Lani pressed up against the wall.  Our bodies touching, faces just inches apart.  I can feel the warmth of her body radiating through her wet clothes.  She stares up at me, her dark eyes and golden skin, beautiful lips parting slightly.  The temptation to lean in and kiss her overwhelms me.  My head drops as she watches me closely, her eyes close and she moves forward a fraction.  My heart is pounding more than in any battle so far, adrenalin surges through me and I can feel the blood roaring past my ears.  It’s warm here.  The noise of the engine blocking all other sounds out.  Her body so close.  I can feel her breath on my skin, soft, warm, inviting.

The boat spins round in another harsh turn causing us to break apart and I stagger away trying to maintain my feet.  The spell is broken and I stand still for a second breathing heavily, she remains wedged into the same position.  Her feet braced, preventing her from getting rolled about.  A look of disappointment briefly flashes across her features, instantly replaced as she opens her eyes and smiles at me.

‘We’d better go up,’ I have to shout over the engine to make myself heard.  She hesitates for a second before pushing herself off the wall and nodding back to me.  Leading the way we go back up the stairs and into the passenger lounge.  Having a view of the landscape now and I can see the waters are gently rolling by as Nick brings the power down to a more steady pace.  Taking care in case Nick tries another hairpin turn we reach the narrow staircase and climb onto the bridge. Nick is at the central desk moving his gaze between the dials in front of him and the view outside.

‘Well done mate,’ the engines are now a distant thrum and we can speak at nearly normal volume.

‘It’s bloody complicated,’ he turns round grinning, ‘they’ve got side thrusters and things.  I reckon it’s so they can push the ship into the side of the pier or maybe keep the thruster things on and hold it there while people are getting on and off.  There’s alarms flashes at me too so I don’t think I’ve gone through the right sequence to get the thing going…but…’ his voice trails off as he looks down at a flashing red light, shrugging he continues, ‘but at least we got it running.  Sorry about the hard turns but it’s more sensitive than it looks.

‘No problem,’ I reply finding a pair of binoculars hanging from a strap I lift them up and turn round to view the end of the approaching pier.  The figures are clear through the magnified lenses, especially the size difference between Clarence and Dave.

‘Getting it alongside is going to be hard Mr Howie,’ Nick says quickly, ‘I can line it up but I don’t know enough to keep it still.’

‘Have a go mate, what’s the fuel like?’

‘Nearly full, I reckon they would have filled up overnight ready for the weekend.’

‘That’s lucky then.’

‘Lucky day so far.’

‘Touch wood it stays that way,’ I tap the side of my head, ‘if we get it tied up we can get everyone on board, take whatever we need from here and anchor up in the sea…it’s got to be the safest place.’

‘I’ll have a go Sir,’ his voice sounds focussed, his face a picture of concentration as he navigates the multi million pound ship towards the ancient solid wooden structure.  Lani leans by an open sliding window, the wind blowing her hair and drying her wet clothes.  Her eyes are closed with a content serene look and I kick myself for not taking the chance to kiss her.  Bloody fumbling idiot.  Shaking my head I turn back to the now fast approaching pier.

‘They always go off to the side and turn in so they can drive alongside it,’ Lani says in her strong voice.

‘Which side?’ Nick asks.

‘To the right, I think it’s deeper there.’

‘Okay,’ he replies quietly and gently steers the ship away from the pier.  The ship goes past the end and Nick starts the turn, bringing the front sweeping round in a long arc.  Eventually the vessel is lined up facing the end of the pier.  Nick powers forward gently, sweat dripping from his forehead as his eyes flick between the pier and the front of the ship.  Using the binoculars I watch Clarence striding towards the end nearest us.  He watches the approach then quickly lifts his arm motioning to pull away.

‘Move to the left mate,’ I relay to Nick.  At the dead slow speed the ship takes a few seconds before the end swings out, Clarence watches a few seconds and then motions to pull back in.  I relay the instructions as Lani watches from the side window.  Poor Nick does his best, making minor adjustments before smashing the side of the ship into the end of the pier with a hard jolt.

‘Sorry,’ he yells with a look of horror.

‘Forget it mate, it’s not our boat,’ I shrug as he lines up and drags the side of the ship along the hard edge of the pier.  Loud screeches of metal against wood rip through the air.  The rest of the group come into view as I stride over to the window and lean out.

‘Get everything ready and get on, we’ll stay on this for a bit.’ They nod back and quickly move off towards the buildings.  Lani and I descend down to the passenger level and out through the still open sliding passenger door.

‘NICK?’ I shout out, ‘CAN YOU HEAR ME?’

‘YES,’ His voice drifts out of the open window on the bridge.

‘GO A BIT MORE FORWARD…KEEP GOING…MORE…ALMOST…YES! THAT’S IT, HOLD IT THERE.’ The pier’s access point, a lower level accessed by steps leading down and allowing vessels to berth with the lower tide, draws level as Nick lines it up perfectly, then goes gently sliding past as we overshoot. ‘TOO FAR…NEEDS TO GO BACK.’

‘TRYING,’ Nick’s voice sails from the window.  The engine changes in pitch as Nick reverses the boat.  Too much power and we slam back into the side of the pier.

‘USE THOSE SIDE THRUSTER THINGS,’ Lani shouts up.

‘I’M TRYING!’ Nick’s harassed voice comes from the window.

‘I’ll go up Howie,’ Lani says before darting back in and jogging over to the staircase.  I wait patiently for a few seconds before I hear their muted voices drifting down.  The engine changes in pitch again as the vessel suddenly surges sideways and slams into the pier once more with a loud bang.

‘DON’T YOU LIKE THIS PIER NICK?’ Cookey shouts out as he jogs back carrying several of our kit bags, the shotgun butts all sticking out.

‘PISS OFF COOKEY,’ Nick retorts loudly. Cookey smirks before carefully dropping down the steps.  A fluctuating gap between the vessel and the pier forms between Cookey and I.

‘Chuck them over mate,’ I say.  Cookey drops them down and starts launching them into the open passenger doorway.  As he leaves I move back in and stack them up to one side.  Tom and Blowers arrive next, more bags and also carrying boxes of muffins, crisps and cases of water bottles.  Everything gets chucked over as they run back and forth, effectively stripping the café of anything usable.  Clarence must be directing them, getting them to take everything that might be of use.  Fishing rods, the heavy winter coats we slept on, a cardboard box full of black, hand held radios with stubby aerials.  Then Tom and Blowers appear carrying the heavy coffee machine between them, the lead dangling from Tom’s teeth.

‘Bloody hell,’ I exclaim, ‘good idea though,’ I add with a nod.  They perch dangerously on the edge trying to work out how to pass it over.

‘Put it down and one of you jump in,’ I can see them both falling down the gap and getting crushed by the ship and as much as we all like coffee I judge that maybe losing two of our group is a price too much for it.

They lower the coffee machine as Clarence appears carrying armfuls of axes.  Dave just behind him.  They work themselves out with Clarence taking the coffee machine while Blowers takes a running jump and launches himself into the ship.  Tom goes next, leaving Clarence stood there holding the shiny coffee maker.

‘NICK PUSH IT IN AGAIN AS GENTLY AS YOU CAN,’ I shout up, Lani’s head appears through the window, looking down she sees the stupid task we’re attempting and nods down to us.  A couple of seconds later she shouts “HANG ON” as the ship pushes against the side of the pier.

As the vessel connects, I shout “NOW” and Clarence steps forward holding the coffee machine out as Blowers and Tom take it from him.  Between us, we manage to grapple the machine on board and give a cheer when we get it inside.  The small victory bringing a sense of accomplishment.

Within a couple of minutes we’re all loaded, our small group re-united.  The kit gets left on the floor as we all go up onto the bridge, the lads all grouping round Nick and Lani.  Clarence strides up to the grinning lad and pats him heavily on the shoulder, almost sending him sprawling into the desk.

‘Brilliant Nick,’ he rumbles with a grin and I can see Nick is pretty much floating off the ground with the compliment.

‘Lani worked out the side thruster things,’ he replies.  Clarence and the others turn to the woman and re-start the compliments while she smiles graciously.

Turning round I see Dave looking as expressionless as Lani, but something in his eyes tells me he’s not happy.

‘Sorry Dave, we shouldn’t have gone after it like that,’ I say quietly.

‘We split the group Mr Howie,’ Dave answers with a straight look.  My stomach drops at the implication and disappointment clearly evident to me in his otherwise unchanged tone.

‘It was instinct Dave; we saw the rope and went for it.  I know what you’re saying and I thought the same just after we got on board.’ He stays looking at me silently.  ‘Lesson learnt,’ I add in a quiet voice.

‘It’s good though,’ he adds thoughtfully, ‘and safer than being on land.’

‘I thought you didn’t like boats.’

‘I don’t.’

‘But this is alright?’

‘It’s safer for the group, keeps us together so yes it’s alright.’

‘Okay Dave, point taken.’

‘There is one problem Mr Howie.’

‘What?’

‘We’re on the water which is flat, and we’re on a big white boat that everyone for miles will be able to see moving.’

‘So it’s a good thing having this boat but also a bad thing having this boat?’

‘Yes,’ he answers, ‘good and bad with everything Mr Howie.’

‘Dave, if you had a full cup and drank half of the contents how would you refer to the remaining contents of the cup?

‘It depends.’

‘On what?’

‘What the contents were, for instance if its water then I would refer to the content as water, if it was soup then I would…’

‘No I mean not the actual content as in the substance…okay so you have a cup of water and you drink half of the water.  How would you refer to the water still in the cup?’

‘I would say it was the water in the cup?’

‘Okay, no I mean like you’ve had half of the water, so…?’

He stares back at me, hardly moving, ‘I’d drink the rest not knowing when the next drink is coming.’

‘Yeah good idea, but how would you say the cup is left.’

‘Empty.  I finished it.’

‘No before you drank it.’

‘Full.’

‘No, when you’ve had half of it…’

‘Soon to be empty because I know I’ll drink it.’

‘Aha but it was full.’

‘Yes it was…but I drank it.’

‘So the cup is empty?’

‘After I drunk it, but it was full before.’

‘Right so at the point of it being half filled, would you say half full…’

‘…Yes…’

‘…Or half empty?’

‘…Yes.’

‘Which one?’

‘It’s both.’

‘It can’t be both.’

‘It is both.’

‘If you had to choose one…which would it be?’

‘Neither, I’d drink it.’

‘If you couldn’t drink it…’

‘Why can’t I drink it?’

‘Er…it’s poisoned.’ Stupid thing to say.

‘I drank poisoned water? Why would I do that?’

‘You didn’t know it was poisoned.’

‘Who poisoned it?’

‘Doesn’t matter, look you just can’t drink it okay? You’ve had half and it’s not poisoned but you just cannot drink the other half.’

‘Okay.’

‘So what would you call it?’

‘Useless.’

‘Useless?’

‘I can’t drink it.  It’s useless.’

‘Shall we get that coffee machine plugged in?’

‘Okay Mr Howie.’

Nick and the lads piss about on the bridge, laughing at each other taking turns to drive the boat.  The rest of us try and sort through the kit loaded on board and find a plug socket for the coffee machine.  I say try because the lad’s hard turns as they egg each other on send us flying about all over the place until Dave, already looking very unhappy at being on the boat, opens the door to the bridge and says something loud enough for them to hear.  Whatever it was, it was effective as the boat immediately settled down to a more relaxed pace and in a straight line.

‘Well done Dave,’ Clarence rumbles appreciatively.  The image of Lani pressed so close to my body in the engine room keeps flashing through my mind.  Her beautiful face staring up at me, her eyes closing gently as she waited for the kiss that never happened and then the fleeting look of disappointment flashing across.  Shit, this is the end of the world.  I should be grabbing her hand now and pulling her to one side so I can snog her face off so we can fall to a heap on the floor.

‘You okay Mr Howie, you’re staring at my hand,’ Lani interrupts my thoughts, bringing me back to earth with a jump.

‘Eh? What? Yeah I was miles away,’ I reply.

‘Are you getting it on or what?’ Clarence asks from a few feet away.

‘What?’ I feel a mild sense of panic rising in my voice.

‘The coffee machine, did you get it on?’

‘Yes! It’s on,’ I blurt back quickly as he gives me a strange stare and Lani laughs softly.

‘Your face,’ she whispers from the side of her mouth.

‘This is your fault,’ I reply with an accusing stare.

‘My fault? Why because you were staring at my hand?’

‘I wasn’t thinking about your hand…’

‘Oh, what then?’

Damn it, why does she have to ask that, ‘nothing,’ I shrug, busying myself with the machine and trying to figure out how it works.  A row of buttons on the top plinth, small lights underneath them and images of small cups, big cups, two cups.

‘Need some help?’ Lani asks and steps in close.  Her small but deadly hand lifts as she runs her slender fingers along the buttons, ‘we need this one,’ she points to a button marked with a picture of two cups.  She smiles and leans past me to take two mugs from a box, her face tantalisingly close to mine again.  Next she pulls a bag of coffee beans and shoves a load into a glass tube at the top of the machine.  Pressing a button and the coffee is ground and pushed into a huge metal spoon, more like a mini shovel.

‘How do you know how to do this?’ I ask mesmerised as I watch her deftly work the controls.

‘We had one in a place I worked,’ she replies.  I miss what she does next but suddenly the two mugs are beneath two spouts pouring the hot thick liquid into the bowls.

‘We need milk really, can you start opening those portions and pour them into here,’ she passes me a metal jug.  My fingers fumble for the plastic lip of the small UHT milk portion.  I get it open and pour the meagre contents into the jug.  She stares at me, grabs one and rips the top off quickly pouring the contents in.  I take another one and match her pace, she does another and we rip through them.  Taking our frustrations out on the defenceless plastic pots which get mercilessly tossed onto the floor, discarded and unwanted.  The white milk gets poured in, more follows as more pots fall from our hands like glistening brass shells from the GPMG.  Eyes narrow and widen, mouths twitch as the portions are abused, penetrated and thrown away.  The jug slowly fills and our hands work quickly.  My god she is beautiful, soft lips that part to show white teeth, pink tongue darting out to moisten them.  High cheek bones, the angle of her eyes, silken black raven hair cascading down her shoulders.  Milk spurts on her thumb as she presses too hard on the flimsy lid, the white liquid rolls down her digit as she raises it to her lips and quickly licks the dairy juice away.

The jug gets filled, our feet covered in the wasted pots.  She takes the jug and shoves the solid shaft of a metal pipe into the liquid.  Turning a knob and something hisses loudly, the milk steams and froths, she watches me watching her.  Bubbles form and blow on the surface as the shaft steams and rapidly heats the milk.  She dials the knob back down and takes the two mugs already filled with the thick espresso coffee.

Slowly she upends the milk pot and pours the frothed thick liquid into the mugs.  Gently spooning the creamy liquid out she fills the mugs and pushes them slightly towards me.

‘Dave, Clarence…coffee,’ I call out.  The lads appear and reach over, gently removing the cups from between Lani and me.

‘I’ll go and see if the boys want a coffee,’ she says before moving off and disappearing through the door to the bridge.

Sighing and breathing out I turn round and rub the stress from my forehead, stretching and rolling my shoulders too.  Opening my eyes I see Clarence and Dave both stood a few feet away, holding frothed cups of coffee and watching me with interest.  The mug looks ridiculous in Clarence’s huge paw.

‘What?’ I ask as they both stare without speaking.

‘Nothing boss,’ Clarence smiles and sips at his coffee, ‘very nice,’ he murmurs.

‘Yeah she is,’ I sigh and hold my hands up exasperated, ‘really bloody nice and I’m a bumbling bloody fool.’

‘I meant the coffee,’ Clarence says.

‘Oh.’

‘And she’s stood behind you.’

‘Oh.’

‘We’ll be outside, come on Dave let’s have a look at the engine room.’

I turn round slowly, a look of extreme discomfort on my face as I see Lani stood there, expressionless and staring.

‘I…er…’ Stuttering I take a breath and get myself in order.

‘You got it going then? Can I have a go?’ Nick bursts out from the door and starts examining the machine, running his not so slender fingers over the buttons and murmuring to himself quietly.

‘Is it working then?’ Cookey comes through next, followed by Tom as they gather round the machine.

‘You’ll need these opened and poured in here,’ I show them the boxes of milk portions and the metal jug.  The frustration eases as we stand round laughing and joking as the milk portions are ripped open.  The lads chucking them at each other as Clarence and Dave come back inside, the big man giving me an apologetic shrug as he watches the lads messing about.  I smile back to show no hard feelings.

Coffee is made for everyone.  Proper coffee with steamed milk and sugar and the strong espresso fires us all up as the laughs get louder.   Gathering on the bridge we open the two side doors and let the warm air flow in.  I stroll outside and sit on the public benches, enjoying a proper coffee and a smoke in a warm beautiful relaxed setting.  The boxes of muffins, cakes and bread sticks get passed round.  We sit there munching in the middle of the sea and watching the blue waters surrounding us.

‘So what’s our situation?’ I ask everyone.

‘We’re almost out of shotgun shells,’ Dave replies, ‘no pistol rounds left, just axes and knives.’

‘So if that had carried on last night we could have been in the shit,’ Blowers says.

‘But it didn’t,’ Clarence replies, ‘don’t think like that, it’ll mess your head up.’

‘I know we’re all super hard zombie killers now, but we ain't gonna last long without proper guns and bullets,’ Cookey adds, his point serious for once.

‘The shotguns are good in a tight spot,’ Blowers continues, ‘but we need those assault rifles really.’

‘We’ll have to go for another base then I guess,’ I say looking at Dave and Clarence, ‘we could try and load up before we get back to the fort.  That’ll give Chris a nice surprise.’

‘It certainly would, but I don’t know any army bases anywhere round here,’ Clarence says.

‘Don’t need army bases,’ Dave cuts in, ‘this is navy territory, we go for them.’

‘A navy base?’ I ask, ‘seems obvious, do you know any?’

‘How about navy ships?’ Lani asks, ‘like that one.’ She points towards Portsmouth harbour in the distance.  The bulk of a light blue greyish coloured navy ship anchored in amongst the backdrop of cluttered vessels and buildings.

‘Aye aye, Blowers you know some navy lads can’t you wave a signal flag or something’ Cookey jokes, to a sputter of laughing from Tom.  Great, another person that finds his jokes funny.

Blowers, too busy with a mouthful of muffin to reply simply sticks two fingers up and smiles as crumbs spill from his mouth, Tom giggles, Cookey smirks knowingly and Blowers coughs with laughter showering everyone with bits of damp muffin.

‘You dirty bastard,’ Nick jumps up brushing his clothes off as the rest of us giggle from the sight of Blowers trying desperately not to laugh at Cookey.

‘Do navy ships have assault rifles on them?’ I ask when everyone has settled down, ‘or is that a really stupid question?’

‘Yes they do and….’Dave stares at me with a wicked pause, ‘no it’s not.’ Another joke from the silent killer.  Things are certainly looking up.  But that just makes me look round in a state of rising panic.  Nothing bad has happened for the last hour, no zombies, the ship hasn’t sunk, and no sign of pirates swinging cutlasses at us.  Something bad always happens and generally it’s every bloody half an hour.

‘They have detachments of Marines on board,’ Blowers explains, ‘nearly all ships have them, or at least an on-board armoury so they can do vessel boarding and things, repel attacks at close quarters,’ he continues.

‘What about the GPMG? Do they have them too?’ Cookey asks.

‘Sort off,’ Blowers nods, ‘they have fixed guns and things on the ships, we can have a look and see what ammunition they got in the armoury.’

‘Plan then,’ I smile, ‘we go for that navy ship and see what we can find, unless they blow us up on the way in or something…then we load up and get round to the fort with our shiny new boat.’

‘Yeah because our plans always work out so straight forward,’ Nicks mutters, voicing the thoughts nearly all of us are having.

‘Er…who is driving the boat?’ Clarence suddenly asks, looking round at everyone gathered in one place.

‘Cookey you said you were doing it,’ Blowers says quickly.

‘Piss off,’ Cookey shouts back, ‘I never did, it’s your turn.’

‘Someone drive the bloody thing,’ I shout over them and get two sorry expressions and two “sorry Mr Howie’s” as they push and shove each other into the bridge.

‘Nick, do you want to do it mate? You’ve had the most practice.’

‘On it,’ Nick stuffs another blueberry muffin in his mouth and heads into the bridge.

Eight

‘It’s good, very good,’ Maddox nods in satisfaction from the top of the now erected guard tower.  With a clear view down the street opposite and a decent view down the roads running off to the left and right.  Darius has fastened thick planks of wood along the northern side, giving cover to anyone climbing up and down.  More thick high planks on the top level giving waist high cover.

‘We need a spot light up here,’ Maddox says to his friend.

‘I’ll sort it,’ Darius agrees, ‘we can use some of the solar panels from the grows and rig something up, or a generator for now.  What we doing with the houses then?’

‘We’ll use them as crew houses, let each crew have one.  But we got to check ‘em all first, make sure they’re the same…’

‘Yeah right,’ Darius interrupted, ‘don’t give any of ‘em something the others ain’t got.  It’ll kick off bruv.’

‘Fact,’ Maddox nods, ‘I don’t like the idea of crews being in the two end houses, these ones closest to the junction.  The top windows will be used for spotters anyway, so we’ll stick with the other houses.  Eight of them, eight crews, figures just right.’

‘What about us?’ Darius asks.

‘We use the units, me, you, Lenski and the girls.’

‘What about Sierra?’

‘She gets a house with her crew, down to you innit if you want private time, you figure it out.’

‘Fair one,’ Darius smiles, already looking forward to some secret night time sneaking about in the dark for a fumble with his girlfriend.

‘Get the crews gathered by the pit, we’ll get the chiefs and the girls to go through their bedding while we check the houses and make sure they’re ready.’

‘You gonna get them in tonight?’ Darius asks with surprise.

‘Yeah why not? Liam looks about ready to take on your crew so we just need one more chief for Rykers.’

‘Put Mohammed on Rykers crew,’ Darius advises, ‘he’ll get ‘em sorted out and we’ll get Mohammed to choose one from his crew to step up.  Liam will be fine with my crew, they’re pretty good already.’

‘Good idea,’ Maddox looks with gratitude at Darius for his quick thinking, ‘right you get the crews together and we’ll give them the good news.’

Darius climbs down leaving Maddox alone and staring out over the gates.  Just in one morning and a few hours of the afternoon he’s drastically changed the compound.  Extended it, made a bigger space and changed the mind-set of a few youths.  He knew that although the youths had lived hard lives full of violence and excess, they were also young enough to adapt and maybe within a little while he could show them a better way.  The survivors out there needed to know the compound was off limits, simply because the children needed a safe place and they were ready and willing to do what it took to make it safe.  But maybe they could reach an agreement, one less deadly to the survivors, something that meant they could live side by side.  That would take time, but Maddox knows the one thing they do have plenty of is time.

He climbs down the tower and makes his way slowly to the back of the compound, walking steadily down the street he thinks it needs a name, something personal to them all.  With a smile he thinks of the perfect name instantly.

Rounding the end of the unit he walks towards the pit, rolling his eyes at the filth encrusted youths, grimy from brick dust and grease, faces blackened, hands covered in dirt.  But they smile and joke with each other.  Instead of looking pale and sickly the youths looked flushed with red cheeks, dressed in t shirts and vests, hoodies off.  They look like children Maddox muses as he takes his place by the log.

‘Good work today,’ he starts off quickly, ‘we got loads done and made ourselves our own street.  I was thinking about a name for it,’ he looks round watching them looking at him expectantly, ‘Zayden Street,’ smiles and nods all around, a few eyes fill with tears.  ‘We got ten houses in Zayden Street, five on each side.  The last two next to the junction will be used by guards and for storage.  The others will be crew houses, one house for each crew.’ Cheers erupt from the youths.  Rumour had spread that this would be the plan, and the chiefs had been asked continually all day and had to admit they didn’t know either.  ‘One house each, but we got to sort them out before you get into them.  A few things first.’ Maddox waves his hands up and down, appealing for quiet.  The youths respond with a few comments from chiefs and older kids.  ‘Liam, you are now crew chief for Darius’s crew…’ More cheers as Liam’s face splits in half from the huge grin running ear to ear, youths surround him, patting him on the back.  Maddox and Darius share a quick nod, knowing a good decision has been made.  ‘Mohammed, you gonna take Ryker’s old crew on and we need you to choose someone to step up for crew chief, have a think bruv,’ Maddox watches the serious lad nod back.  Knowing he’ll understand the need for Ryker’s crew to be under good leadership for a while.  ‘Darius, Lenski and me will be in the units so we get a bit of space from you lot,’ a few laughs, ‘and maybe Sierra will be popping over once in a while so Sierra, make sure you choose a good deputy for when you’re sneaking about to see Darius,’ more laughs.  ‘Crew chiefs, I want the bedding checked for everyone.  Nothing dirty or smelly is going in those houses and they get cleaned before they get used.  We still got a lot to do.  Get your tents organised and let Lenski and the girls know if you need clean bedding.  We’ll be checking the houses to see what they need.’

‘Xbox’s and weed,’ a youth shouts to an outbreak of giggling.

‘Xbox? Maybe…Weed…not yet.’ Maddox answers quickly, letting the firm tones of authority into his voice.  ‘Darius,’ Maddox nods at the older lad standing nearby.

‘Yeah, from tonight.  One crew will be in charge of security.  The compound is too big for a few to be used now.  One crew will stay up and do the guarding, the tower, some in the bedrooms of the end houses and patrols in the base too.  That crew will be given the next morning off to sleep.’

‘Questions?’ Maddox shouts out.

‘Do we have to use the houses? I like the tents.’  A voice calls out.

‘We’ll see,’ Maddox replies, using the universal get out reply relied on by millions of teachers, parents and guardians since time began.

The afternoon stretches on as Maddox, Darius and Lenski move from house to house, working out how many beds they will need, what rooms should be used as bedrooms, if the chiefs should have their own rooms.  Bedding, pillows, lights, weapons, power supply, toilet, toilet rolls, clean water, wipes…Lenski scribbles furiously on her clipboard as the lads discuss the options and work out solutions.  Crew chiefs sort through sleeping bags and blankets, helped by the girls who now have the confidence to come out of the units, seeing the children as children for the first time and not hardened gangsters swaggering about smoking drugs and showing off with weapons.

As the crew chiefs report back to Maddox, he orders them to take the bricks and debris from the walls of the knocked through back gardens and to make fall back positions where the old fence used to be.  Remembering old movies where they would have s pile of sandbags and a few soldiers crouched behind, firing madly into the approaching enemy.  The chiefs round youths up and start the hard work of dragging the heavy bricks over to the compound.

‘I was thinking,’ Maddox says quietly to Lenski, ‘about the idea of using the school playing fields to plant stuff.  We could speak to the survivors on the estate and get them to help, so it belongs to all of us, not just the compound.’

‘Is good,’ Lenski agrees quickly, ‘it will show them we try to help and not kill them, is good yes? There be other places to use too.  I think they move to the houses near here soon.’

‘Why?’ Maddox asks.

‘In old days, the king live in the castle no? The people they live in the houses near the castle so the king and his knights come to rescue them if the bad thing happen.  It safer to be closer, they move here soon.’

‘Shit,’ Maddox sighed, ‘this stuff is complicated.’

‘We should get a patrol out,’ Darius interrupted, ‘check those infected ain't getting near us innit.’

‘Yeah,’ Maddox thought for a second, ‘get Jagger to take his out, tell ‘em no taxing, just a quick walk through, or they can use bikes if they want, check about and get back here.’

‘On it.’ Darius ran off, jogging towards the units.

‘He remind me of you,’ Lenski said quietly as they watched the stocky form of Darius moving away.

‘He’s a good mate, we’re lucky he’s with us.  He’s always had my back. Right, where were we? Counting beds? You ready?’

‘You are the dictator no? So bossy,’ she laughed and held the pen ready above the paper.

Nine

‘Tonight then we take back what’s ours.  We take that compound and we have the security and the food,’ Jeff nods round at the gathered congregation all staring at him.  He knew he had them ready.  Just mention terrorism, babies and drugs and they’ll do anything.  He was ready to go for the ace up his sleeve and mention it’s what Princess Diana would have wanted. Most of these looked old enough to remember her.  But he didn’t need too.  They were hungry and scared, in fact they had been terrified for days but a couple of days of not seeing those zombies had given them a bit of confidence that the worst was over and now they could take the compound and live in safety.  All of them imagined that the compound was stuffed to the rafters with rooms of fresh food and they could gorge for days and still have enough left to last forever.

Once the old man had left, Jeff had continued unopposed and talked them into his plan.  Convincing them that those poor kids were being drugged and brainwashed by the Bossman, who was without doubt the main terrorist.  They needed saving.  The children needed help so they were doing this to save the babies, save the children and keep everyone safe.

Some had argued that being out at dark was dangerous, those things moved fast and were evil at night.  Jeff successfully counter argued that none had been seen for a couple of days, that they were all dead and now was the time to strike.  A full frontal assault, everyone was to bring a weapon, sticks, bats, knives or whatever tools they had lying about.  They would charge the gates in the confusion of the night, while all the children were inside being injected with Heroin and they would take the compound.  Save everyone and show them kids how it should be done.

As the congregation dispersed from the library, with Jeff making them go out a few at a time so there wasn’t a mass exodus on the streets.  He reminded them to meet back here at sunset.  Most of them asked what time that was and had to be told it was when the sun went down.

Jeff knew the outcome already.  He knew that in the confusion of the night he could slip to the back and watch this lot, whipped up by strong words, charge at the gates and take those little shits out.  Then he could get in and claim the prize.  He would be the leader.  The Bossman.  He would be in charge and get these women to do what he wanted.  An image of being surrounded by tough bodyguards while beautiful council estate girls hung off his arms, a big cigar in his mouth and ordering his private army to do whatever he wanted.  And that fucker that punched him, he would be the first to be killed.  Not by Jeff though, unless it was dark and he could shoot him with a gun from the shadows.  Jeff knew he wasn’t a brave man, stupid and foolhardy but not brave.  He would get these idiots to do the dirty work.

Touching his broken nose, he grimaced as he looked forward to the night and taking revenge on those little shits.

Jeff the Bossman.  Yeah.  That sounded good.  Lord Jeff, Baron Jeff, yeah that was better.  Baron Jeff of the compound.

As the last of the filthy bedraggled survivors filed out with whispered encouragement from soon-to-be Baron Jeff, he looked up at the sky wishing it was dark now and cursing these long summer days.

Ten

While Nick drives the boat towards the harbour entrance, a huge wide open mouth that stretches back deep into the city, and under order to hold a steady speed so we don’t break anything.  The rest of us set about sorting our kit.  Energised and ready now we’ve got something to do and somewhere to go.  Another mission.  On the road and doing things again.  Well on the water anyway but the meaning is the same.

Wake up; steal a boat, then plan a raid on a navy warship.  What more could a supermarket manager ask for, other than a kiss from the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.  Maybe there’ll be a dark corner on that ship we can sneak into for a few minutes.

Water bottles get re-filled, the remaining shotgun shells get handed round which amounts to four each.  Four shots each before we’re down to hand weapons.  Bloody hell, Blowers was right, that was too close last night.  Another few minutes and we could have been finished off.

Except we didn’t did we.  We got through by the skin of our teeth again and Darren is dead, his head detached from his body by Dave and kicked down the road just to be sure he doesn’t try and staple it back on.  But he’s gone and about as much use as a blind fox.  But that leaves that girl Marcy.  Will she harbour the same vendetta as Smithy or leave us alone from now on?

My mind becomes a microclimate, a swirling vortex of suggestions, counter suggestions and ideas as I try to plan ahead.  We have to get better weapons, and if I knew there weren’t survivors on that bloody Island, and if Nick could figure out the missile system, which he probably could, then I’d send a load of British Navy missiles at the damned thing and be done with it.  Raze the thing into the sea and Marcy along with it.

Dave find a box of batteries and with help from Lani, they slide the backs of the radios off and fit new batteries in each one.  Checking each works, transmitting and listening.  He attaches a radio to each kit bag and pushes fresh batteries into the side pockets.

‘What’s the range on those things?’ I ask.

‘Not far, maybe a couple of kilometres on flat open ground, less in built up areas.’

‘Right, it’s better than nothing though.  I think now’s the time for hot washes if anyone wants them.’

‘I’m first,’ Lani jumps up and grabbing her kit bag she runs into the ladies toilet letting the door swing closed behind her.

‘There’s only one male toilet on the ship, two sinks so be quick.’ Tom and Blowers move off first, taking their kit bags and going into the toilets.

‘So you think anyone will be on those ships?’ I ask Dave and Clarence.

‘Might be, there would have been some personnel on board when it happened, but it’s whether they stayed there or not,’ Clarence replies.

‘Seems a safe place to me, they must have food, fresh water, weapons and big steep sides plus loads of big guns if anyone gets too close, like us….in a big white boat.’ We stare at each other as Cookey looks between us. ‘Oh well, ‘I guess we’ll find out in a bit,’ I add cheerily and catch Cookey shrugging as he returns to re-packing his kit back.

When my turn comes, I head into the toilet with Dave to stand in front of the small stainless steel sink.  We strip down to our underpants with no sense of shame or embarrassment.  Taking care due to the massive puddles left by the lads messing about we fold out clothes and set about scrubbing ourselves using the ten seconds of hot water flow we get each time we press the plunger down.

‘Oh that feels bloody nice,’ I scrub at my face with the warm water, using soap from the dispenser to lather up and rinse off. ‘So you’re alright about going for the ship then Dave?’

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

‘Is the armoury hard to find?’

‘It depends on the type of ship, if they’ve got a Marines detachment.  Maybe Clarence or Blowers might know more than me.’

‘Fair one, mate, this hot water feels lovely.  Strange but I don’t miss many things really.  I don’t miss television or movies, not the radio, I certainly don’t miss work but little things like hot water, coffee and clean clothes.  What about you?’

‘I don’t miss anything.’

‘Nothing?’

‘No Mr Howie.’

‘How come?’ I glance over to see a look of discomfort flash across his face.

‘After the service everything was…well it was unstructured.  Work was the only thing worth doing but it was…’ I can see him struggling to find the words and the look of confusion on his normally expressionless face roots me to the spot.  I want to finish his sentence for him but something tells me this is the time for listening.

‘Working with you was good Mr Howie, you had order and structure but the others didn’t.  I couldn’t cope outside of work; I didn’t know what to do every day.  I would sit and stare at the walls, train, exercise, sharpen my weapons.  It was like I was waiting to get called back up…only they didn’t call me up.’ The thought of Dave not coping with something is remarkable, but then in this maelstrom of violence and upheaval his skills count for everything and he’s kept us alive time after time.  But I know, more than anyone, that his social skills are virtually non-existent.  He lacks empathy and understanding of other’s feelings and doesn’t get half the jokes flying about.  But he fits.  My god he fits in and is revered by everyone here.

I don’t want to say anything contrite or fake, and I remember my Dad telling me that sometimes the best response is to say nothing at all.  So I do that, which seems to be the right thing as Dave nods at me and carries on quickly washing.  He scrubs his face, neck, armpits and groin first.  A squaddie wash quick and thorough, get the important bits done first and then do everywhere else.  The feet are next, washed, rinsed and dried carefully between the toes.  Then he does the rest of his body.  I copy his actions and realise that even here, in a small toilet on-board a ferry in the middle of the sea, I’m still learning from him.

‘Dave, would you mind showing the lads how you just washed, sounds stupid but it’s really effective.’

‘Okay Mr Howie.’

‘Thanks mate.’

‘I don’t have to show Lani though do I?’

‘No Dave, you don’t.’

‘Oh okay, I’ll leave that to you Mr Howie,’ he says bluntly picking his kit bag up and walking out of the bathroom.  He pauses at the door and glances back with a quick smile and he’s gone, leaving me with a mouth hanging open and shaking my head.

Excitement grows as we make final plans once everyone has washed and groomed.  Gathering on the bridge and I try not to notice Lani’s glistening wet hair and the tight black vest top she’s now wearing and the cargo trousers taken from the fashion store we raided in the town.  She looks the part, half soldier, half mercenary and all gorgeous sultry and stunning.  The lads look pink faced but still stubbly and hard.  At least we’ve all got clean tops and underwear on which, if nothing else, makes us feel cleaner.

‘It’s late afternoon,’ I say looking at the sky, ‘we get on the ship, get the gear and do one back to our fort.’ I stare round at the faces nodding back, Nick eyeing the controls and staring at the looming grey vessel ahead.

‘What do we do?’ Nick asks, ‘go straight at it? Go round a couple of times? How we getting on board?’  Looking over I see what he means.  The navy ship, despite being small for a military vessel, is still much larger than us and the sides are much higher.

‘Hang on,’ Blowers steps to the window and lifts the binoculars to his eyes, ‘yeah…that’s a supply ship, it’s RFA.’

‘RFA?’ Nick asks.

‘Royal Fleet Auxiliary, it’s not a warship.  They use ‘em to supply warships, food, fuel, medicine, ammunition…’

‘Ammo? Cookey exclaims, ‘there’ll be shit loads then.’

‘Yeah for the big guns, missiles and anti-aircraft.  Maybe not for the rifles though, it depends…we might get lucky.’

We watch the vessel come fully into view as Nick slows our boat down.  The ship is still way out from the harbour mouth and anchored in position by a huge thick chain extending out from the front.  Closer now and I can see there are no big guns on board, the ship is squat and square shaped.  More like a cargo ship or container vessel.  We slowly move round it, lapping in a big circle as we stare up and examine the various windows and doors.  Trying to detect movement.  Dave takes the binoculars and sweeps them over and over up and down the ship.

‘Any one see anything?’ I ask and get a chorus of negative replies.

‘Lifeboat is missing,’ Blowers points to a gap on the side of the ship, from the symmetrical flow of the vessel I can see he must be right; there is a gap where a lifeboat should be. ‘Someone used it and got away then?’ He asks.

‘Could be, certainly indicates some kind of movement,’ I reply into the tense silence. ‘Have we got a loud speaker or anything on here?’

‘Here try this,’ Nick hands me a bullhorn with a black radio mouthpiece attached by a curly cable.  Taking the loudhailer outside I face towards the ship and shout into the black mouthpiece.

‘CAN YOU HEAR ME? IS ANYONE ON BOARD?’ Nick tries to hold the boat steady while I shout repeatedly through the hailer, eventually giving up when I see Dave staring at me.  Handing it over I stand well back and get ready to flinch.

‘IS ANYONE ON BOARD?’ Dave’s voice booms like a cannon across the water and I can imagine people in Scotland turning round to see who was gobbing off.  He repeats it several times as Nick struggles to control the vessel, drifting us closer and closer to the navy ship.

‘Nick watch out mate!’ Blowers shouts as he tries to engage the engines and pull us away.  A loud clunk sounds out, followed by a vibration and a belch of black smoke spurting out the back.  Then silence as the engines cut out.

‘Nick…’ Cookey shouts in warning, ‘the engines have stopped Nick.’

‘Yeah I can see that,’ Nick shouts back, pressing buttons and desperately trying to figure it out.

‘Nick!’ Cookey yells again, ‘that ship is getting closer mate.’

‘It won’t start,’ Nick shouts in alarm, ‘someone check the engine room.’

‘I’ll go,’ Lani runs to the back of the top deck and nimbly drops down the steps, disappearing from view as we gather round the console trying to help a very flustered Nick.

‘What about this?’ Blowers asks pointing at buttons flashing.  A low alarm sounds from the console, steadily getting louder and faster.

‘Nick, any idea’s what that alarm is mate?’ I keep my voice calm, trying not to get him more flustered.

‘The ships on fire,’ Lani’s loud voice comes from the back.  We all freeze staring at each other then burst off and try to get through the door at once.  Thick black smoke billowing from the engine room as Lani climbs back up the stairs with her hand covering her mouth.

‘It’s raging in there,’ she shouts.

‘What happened?’ Nick demands with a look of wild confusion.

‘Forget it,’ I shout, ‘get your kit bags, Nick try and aim us for the side of that ship. We need some rope.’ Everyone scatters, bursting into action.  Running back down into the passenger section and grabbing kit bags and axes, passing them back up onto the bridge and out on the top open air deck.

The smoke starts to seep into the passenger section as Clarence rushes to the back and closes the door, sealing the air off and preventing the choking fumes from coming in.  Blowers and Tom run outside and along the side of the ship to the front, grabbing ropes and looping them arm over arm.

‘What did I say,’ I mutter to Dave as he passes the kit bags out onto the deck, ‘every bloody half hour.’

‘I’m so sorry Mr Howie, I must have done something wrong, maybe didn’t vent something or release pressure…It’s really complicated and I…’

‘Nick…Nick, take it easy mate,’ I say softly to the lad clearly wracked with guilt, ‘these things happen mate, it’s not your fault.’

‘But you said something happens every half hour…’ Nick wails.

‘Yep and it bloody does,’ I reply with a grin, ‘if it wasn’t this it would be Cookey smashing a hole somewhere, or Blowers blocking the toilet up and making us sink… or me doing something stupid! It happens mate, forget it.’

‘How we going to secure the rope to the side?’ Lani asks as Blowers and Tom clamber back through the bridge carrying the long ropes.

‘Tie an axe on,’ Dave grabs my double headed beauty and stupidly I feel a sense of panic at the thought of it getting broken.  Nick negotiates the burning catamaran towards the grey bulk of the navy vessel.  The supply ship’s sides are high at the front and back with a wide flat lower section in the middle and a crane positioned in the middle ready for moving heavy goods.  It’s the lower middle section we aim for as Nick tries his best to pilot the drifting boat.  Fortunately the weather is still gloriously hot and still with no wind or high waves to cause us more difficulty.

As the ships near each other, Clarence grabs the tied on axe and stands back.  With no choice as to the angle of approach the front of our vessel gets closer and closer to the rear section, knowing we’ll impact as drag alongside Clarence braces his feet and starts unwinding the rope and making sure nothing will tangle.

‘Almost there,’ Lani shouts to Nick.  Seconds of baited breath pass then a heavy jolt and screech of metal as the front of the catamaran crumples from the solid metal side of the navy ship.  Clarence holds for a second, waiting as the two vessels come together side by side and with no engine noise and no wind the sound of metal against metal is ear splittingly loud.

With a grunt, Clarence launches the axe up high and over the side of the lower middle section still ten feet above our heads.  As soon as the axe lands with a clang he starts winding it back in.  We watch and wait for the axe to catch but it appears over the top and drops back down.  With a curse Clarence quickly winds it back in and launches it again.  Pulling the rope it holds taut, he tugs a few times making the muscles in his arms bulge.  The rope holds tight and I tie the end onto the metal safety railing of the top deck.

‘I’ll go first,’ Lani shouts, her pack already on her back.  Hands free she climbs onto the top of railing and grabs the rope, showing her deft climbing skills as she quickly scales the rope and reaches the top of the ship, pulling herself up.  She stares down into the hidden ships interior for a few seconds before straddling the side and looking back down.

‘You alright?’ I call up, concerned at her expression.

‘We got some company,’ she says, not too loud.

‘Oh…how many?’

‘Only a few.’

‘Really? Out here, bloody hell,’ nothing surprises me anymore.  Dave, on hearing that there might be potential foes he can play with is up the rope like a rat down a pipe.  On reaching the top he too stares down before straddling the top and looking at Lani before staring back down at us.

‘There’s more than a few isn’t there?’ I ask him.  He nods once then motions towards the middle; at whatever sight we can’t see.  ‘No Dave, you wait for us and don’t kill them before we get there.’ I can see he’s itching to make a start. ‘Lads, you go next.’  They scramble up, getting pulled by Dave and Lani as they reach the top.  They too look down into the middle I still can’t see before glancing back down and somehow inching along to all remain straddling the edge of the side.

‘Just how many are down there?’ Clarence asks with concern at seeing them all perch precariously on the edge.

‘We’ll find out in a minute, you going next?’ I ask him.

‘I might break the rope,’ he mutters, ‘you should go.’

‘Get off; you ain't that heavy are you?’ I ask with a smile.  He grins back and climbs up to take the rope and pull himself hand over hand to the top.  His feet on the side of the ship walking up until he too gets to the top, looks down and then I see his bald head looking left, then right and finally he twists round to me with a huge grin.

‘Oh you’re going to love this boss.’  Taking the rope I pull myself up, feeling bad at poor Nick losing the ship he struggled so hard to get.  It was a pity we couldn’t keep it for a bit longer and rest up though.  Reaching the top Clarence leans down and decides to try and pull my arm away from my body by grabbing my wrist and lifting me up.

Reaching the top I glance down and see Dave reaching over and cutting the rope with his knife.  With the tension released the white catamaran continues scraping slowly down the side of the ship, screeching metal against metal.  Thick oily smoke pouring from the back.

‘I hope the tide pulls it away,’ I mutter quietly thinking that knowing our luck we’ll probably burn down the navy too.  Then I turn to look to the interior of the ship.  At the faces staring up.  Drooling faces with red bloodshot eyes.  Pale skin a deathly pallor, cuts and bite marks evident as limbs hang loosely down at sides.  The fetid stench of decaying flesh from sailors still wearing dirty overalls and the navy blue colours of the…well the navy I guess.  More than that, there are zombies in smart suits, ball gowns and dinner jackets.  Waiters and chefs, chavs dressed in cheap sparkly night club outfits, bouncers in black suits.  How the hell they all got onto a naval supply ship in the middle of the sea I don’t know.  But what I do know is there is a lot of them, hundreds in fact.  The middle area is packed deep and every single undead face is staring at us.  A face off and no way of getting into the ships buildings without going through them.   Dave has already drawn his knives.  The lads have gripped their axes ready, Lani has her meat cleaver and Clarence is cracking his knuckles.  We’re all grinning now.  Grinning like the bloody idiots we are.

I’m telling you, slaying zombies is addictive.  Very addictive.

‘Why are they all here?’ Cookey asks as we stare down at the massed horde.

‘They must have been brought out in boats when it started; probably thinking it was the safest place.’ I reply figuring it’s the only thing that makes sense and would explain the eclectic mix of personnel on board.

‘That went well then,’ Lani says abruptly getting looks of surprise from the rest of us, ‘what?’ she shrugs, ‘it’s true.’

‘Yeah, fair one.  Right… which way we heading? It’s got to be into that structure at the back surely.’

‘Probably,’ Clarence nods staring round like the rest of us and trying to see any other ways into the ships hold or storage areas.

‘Blowers? You got any ideas?’

‘No Mr Howie, aim for the big building at the back like you said.’

‘Okay.  Do any of them look like super zombies? Heads not lolling, not drooling, or maybe a fake zombie pretending to drool and loll it’s head.’  As ridiculous as the question is, they all respond seriously.  Scanning the hundreds of faces and checking for any signs of one of them not being a normal daytime shuffler.

‘Dave? Anything?’

‘No Mr Howie, they all look the same.’

‘Okay, right well I guess we should crack on then.  Bagsy I go first,’

‘Second,’ Dave adds with a lightning fast response with everyone else shouting “third” at the same time and arguing about who got it out quickest.

‘Ready Dave?’

‘Yes Mr Howie,’ he says and drops down to land in the middle of a batch of waiter dressed zombies.  They seem almost surprise to see him there and it takes a fraction of a second for them to respond and turn into him.  By which time he’s grinning like a maniac back at the rest of us while I shout he’s a cheating bastard and launch myself down.  But it’s too late; Dave has started and drawn first blood. And second.  And third.  Possibly fourth and maybe I got fifth by the time gravity assisted me landing and I pulled the axe back and swung out muttering that he was unsporting and a cheat and the next time we went at a horde I wouldn’t warn him.

I hear Clarence laughing like a braying donkey again at the sight of Dave dropping down and beating us all to it.  But then they all join in, dropping down and setting about the shufflers with unabated glee.

No precision or uniformity here.  Just slaughter.  My axe swings back and forth with both keen sharp edges slicing, chopping, cleaving and breaking bodies open.  The shufflers don’t stand a chance and we move steadily deeper into their ranks.  Nick, Blowers, Cookey and Tom shouting out the numbers of their kills with a competition.

‘Six…Seven….Eight,’ Blowers shouts in the lead, ‘Nine….Ha no ten now!’

‘Twenty one, twenty two, twenty three,’ Dave roars out from several metres away as he glides through the air with his blades whipping out slicing jugulars open and stabbing into chests.

‘You’re banned for cheating,’ I shout as a zombie in a ball gown with a heaving cleavage lunges at me with barred teeth and gets an axe to the face in response.

‘Twelve,’ Lani shouts in triumph.

‘Thirteen,’ Tom roars and adds another one as he lashes out decapitating a zombie.

The numbers are shouted as the competition heats up and I notice Blowers and Cookey have instinctively teamed up as normal, fighting side by side.  Tom and Nick now doing the same, Clarence off by himself crushing skulls and Dave just getting warmed up as he spins, drops, leaps and kills with every lunge and twist.  Lani stays close to me, just a few steps away and I watch the savage ferocity she uses.  The meat cleaver is deadly in her hands, whipping out and slicing faces, necks and shoulders.  Her amazing athletic ability really shows in close quarters as she bends and flexes, taking high steps like a dancer, planting her feet and using her body weight in the thrust and slash.  Her face is alive, eyes determined.  She uses her free hand to clutch the hair of an undead and force it down before she hacks into the neck.  Letting go and moving off to drop down and swing the blade deep into the throat of the next one.  She kicks back, impacting into the stomach of a woman undead lunging for her.  One full turn and she’s on the still reeling body opening a hole in its stomach, intestines spilling out.

Watching Lani is like watching Dave.  It’s beautiful, graceful and fluid.  The rest of us are progressive and we kill as well as her, but it’s the way they do it.  Art, beauty and grace.  As the bodies drop I find a space round me and lean on my axe, watching between Lani and Dave dancing through them.  Both of them warmed up now and spinning like some amazing act on a stage.  Clarence glances over and catches me skiving, giving me a puzzled look.  I nod towards the two in the centre of the open middle section of the ship.  He quickly punches one zombie hard, breaking its neck and clearing the view as he watches what I see.  He nods over at me, leaning his back against a wall and watching as mesmerised as me.  The lads soon do the same as they realise Clarence and I are stood still and watching.  Slowly, we shuffle back to the sides and let Lani and Dave work in a free space.

There are still good numbers of undead and we stand ready to step in, but really there is no need.  They are like ballet dancers.  Poetry in motion.  Lithe bodies that are exactly where they need to be.  Lani lacks Dave’s experience and strength but the symmetry of her body, the hair flowing and waving behind her more than makes up for that.  As long as I draw breath on this earth I will never tire of watching Dave do this, and now with Lani doing something similar it is simply stunning.  A spectacle never seen by humanity.  Utter ruthless killers, relentless in their capacity for murder, devastating in their glory but simply breathe taking in their delivery.

‘Have you ever seen anything like that?’ I ask softly.

‘No,’ Clarence replies instantly, even his deep voice is full of awe.

‘Jesus, look at him,’ Tom whispers as Dave spots another solid group still shuffling towards him.  He runs at them, long strides and launching himself high at the very last second.  His feet push down into the faces of two, sending them toppling backwards and knocking several more over.  Dave lands in the middle with one arm extended and the blade buried deep into the heart of one undead while his trailing arm extends behind him, again with the blade buried deep into a spinal column.  He wrenches the blades out and stands upright, like at attention before spinning round and lashing his arms out.  Three more fall with bright crimson sprays of blood spurting out in high arcs as their throats are cut.  As we mere mortals watch the high spray he’s already gone round behind two more and drawn his blades across two more throats.

Then it’s over and the ground is once again littered with the broken bodies of the undead.  Blood everywhere, bits of brain, bone and tendons glisten wetly in the soon.  The metallic smell of blood mixes with the odour of decaying skin.  Dave drops down and wipes his blades repeatedly on the clothing of the undead.  Lani standing still and checking round sees their all down and turns to see us all staring at her and Dave.  She smiles with a sudden intensity and locks eyes with me, making my heart skip a beat and my face flushes red.

‘Bloody hell Lani! That was fucking awesome!’ Cookey shouts with genuine amazement and walks towards her.  The lads rush in congratulating the girl as she nods and smiles with humble thanks and wipes the sweat from her forehead.

Drinking water and washing the blood from our hands, taking care to use the anti-bacterial wipes on our skin we make our way carefully towards the superstructure at the back, stepping over corpses.

‘Here,’ Dave drops down quickly and reaches down to pull something from underneath a body.  Holding the object between thumb and finger he holds his hands out, showing us the shiny brass casing of the bullet.

‘Someone got some rounds off then,’ Clarence scans about, toeing bodies out the way and spotting more casings on the floor.  We thread our way towards the structure, examining the ground.

‘Here!’ Tom leans his arm in between a gap at the base of the crane structure, pulling an SA80 assault rifle out.  Dave strides over and takes the weapon from him, snapping the magazine off and checking the weapon through.

‘Empty,’ he calls out, ‘emptied the magazine and I guess whoever had it ditched it and went for his sidearm instead of changing magazine.’

‘This would have been packed, just one of them bitten or infected and it would have been nuts.  Must have been a soldier on guard or something,’ I look round imagining the scene of chaos unfolding at the infection spread from bite to bite, the screams and yells and the terror sweeping through.

‘Doors open,’ Clarence having taken a few steps closer to the structure spots the open door at the base and calls back.  His axe gripped and ready in his hands.

‘It’s a big building,’ I say looking up at the structure, several stories high and no doubt with further levels underneath us too, ‘do we clear the lot or just go for what we need and get out.’

‘Get what we need and get out,’ Clarence advises, ‘we’ll be here for hours clearing it.’

‘How do we get out?’ Lani asks quickly.

‘Go for the orange lifeboats, they’ll have quick release mechanisms inside.  They’ll slide down the frame and land in the water.’ Clarence explains.

‘Right, if it goes bent we go for them. Let’s go,’ I nod at the door and walk towards it.  Dave shoulders the assault rifle and keeps one knife ready while the rest of us grip axes.

The cool interior is a relief after the strong direct sun on the deck of the ship and we proceed down a long corridor, Clarence out front and the rest of us trailing behind in a long line with Dave bringing up the rear.  Dried blood is smeared everywhere, on the floor, the walls and even splashed onto the ceiling.  Dead bodies lie here and there, dropped from shots to the chest and head.  More bullet casings lead a breadcrumb trail into the ships interior.  A frantic fire fight took place here, a retreating fire and manoeuvre possibly as the undead surged towards whoever was left alive and firing.

We reach the base of a set of stairs leading up and find more bodies stacked up with the butt of an assault rifle poking out from under the entwined limbs.  Blowers pulls it out and uses the shirt tails from a downed undead to wipe the blood and filth away.  Another SA80, the standard issue British military assault rifle and a weapon most of us are familiar with.  Blowers quickly checks the gun and like the one found by Dave, he finds it empty.

‘Used as a bat,’ Blowers points to the dried bits of skull and matted hair on the butt of the weapon.

‘That’s two, just need some bullets now,’ I say quietly.

‘Hang on,’ Clarence shoves his foot into the pile of bodies and starts punting them aside, separating them.  The few of us close enough help out, dragging the bodies apart looking for more weapons.  A camouflaged soldier is at the bottom of the pile, the smell of decay mixed with shit and blood is almost too much and I notice a few of us try not to gag.  Clarence bends down and grips the front of the soldiers’ thick shirt, lifting him bodily up from the ground.

‘Get the pistol,’ he says through gritted teeth while trying to face away from the stench.  Tom reaches out and unclasps the utility belt round the dead soldiers’ waist, lifting the belt and the attached pistol away.  Clarence drops the body and we retreat a few steps, Tom handing the belt to Dave who pulls the standard issue pistol out and finds it unused with a full magazine clip and two more full magazines on the belt.

‘They the same as ours?’ Cookey asks, even his normal jovial voice is quiet and restrained.

‘Yes,’ Dave answers.  He checks the pistol through, sliding the top back and checking the moving parts before handing one magazine to Clarence and the other to me.  We both pull our pistols from our belts and insert the magazines into the grips, sliding the tops back and making ready.

‘Yay we’re back,’ Cookey smiles, still quietly.

‘Not quite mate,’ I reply just as quietly, ‘we got one door there and stairs going up, which way?’

‘Go through the door, we should check down here before we go up,’ Dave replies.

‘Tom and Cookey take our axes, Dave up front with Clarence at the rear, I’ll go behind Dave,’ they nod back as the weapons are handed over.  Dave slides his knife away and holds the pistol in a double handed grip as he stalks towards the door.  I copy his actions and hold mine ready, lowered to the floor.

Reaching the door he checks my position before checking the door is open with his foot.  No resistance and the door starts opening, he pushes it quickly and steps through, holding the pistol high and scanning all about.  I step in behind him and check about.  Another corridor leads off down the width of the ship.  Doors to the left and right, all of them closed.

Dave motions he’s taking the left and I nod, stepping to the right and moving towards the first door.  I figure he’ll want them done one at a time so I pause while he kicks the first one open and steps in; he’s back out within a second and nodding to me.  I repeat his actions, kick the door and step in.  A small office with a desk, a computer, charts and folders scattered everywhere, bloody handprints smeared about.

Gradually, one at a time, the rooms are all cleared.  Left, right, left, right and we make progress.  The rooms are all office space, desks and computers, charts, folders, paperwork.  We find one more body in a room; a uniformed naval person slumped on the floor with a bullet wound to the head, the pistol laying just inches away from his open hand.  Clear suicide and we retrieve the pistol, passing it to Blowers who clears and checks the weapon.

Reaching the end of the passageway we stop before a wide lift, doors open and prevented from closing by the body slumped half in, the face chewed off, thick crusty blood pooled under the head and flies buzzing noisily in the enclosed area.

‘Stairs,’ Dave points to the end and a set of stairs leading down.  Taking point again he leads the way and starts heading down into the depths of the ship.   No power now and we have to pause and pull torches from our bags to light the way in the gloom.  Two flights down and we come to another landing, more stairs lead down.  Two sets of double doors, one clearly leading towards the front of the ship and into the big middle hold area, and another leading into a passageway running the width of the ship just like the last one.

‘Passageway first,’ I nod at the doors and move behind Dave as we repeat the motions, kicking doors open and quickly checking rooms.  Most of these are private quarters with cot beds and small cupboards.  Being below the main level of the ship there are no windows, no natural light.  The torches illuminate ahead of us but just accentuate the dark patches and make the shadows look deeper.  The ship is inert, lifeless.  Our feet echo on the floor scrapes and scuff noises sound out as we move along.  The kicks to the doors bang alarmingly and we all feel the tension rising.  Heavy breathing and the air is significantly cooler down here.

The corridor is cleared and we head back down to the stairs and the next double doors leading into the ships hold.

Pushing through we enter into an almost pitch black room that must be almost the width of the ship and stretching out towards the front.  The only light coming from the meagre grey of the open doors.  We hold at the door for a few seconds, carefully listening but hearing nothing other than the creak of the ship.  Square columns are stacked throughout the room.  We shine our torches into the gloom and can see they’re pallets of goods wrapped in plastic, ready to be hoisted or lifted onto other vessels.  With so many of them stacked throughout the room we can’t see further than a few metres.

‘Spread out,’ I say softly and wait until a long line is formed and we start pressing into the big room.  Torchlight glances about, sweeping left and right.  Soft footsteps and we make our way round the sinister looking columns.  The doors closed behind us and the harsh torch light is only illumination now and that just makes the shadows seem deeper.  Our footsteps echo softly, breaths exhaling, the rustle of trouser legs brushing as steps are taken.  The slight clink of equipment.  We advance slowly, one step at a time.  We pass the first columns, heading further into the darkness and now feeling oppressed from the sentry like stacks of goods behind us.  Torch light dances about, sweeping the ground and the columns all around us, each one of them much taller than a man.

The smell hits me.  Rancid meat left to rot.  A truly awful stench of putrid foulness.

‘Is that smell from the food or the zombies?’ Cookey asks with a gagging sound.

‘Stay quiet,’ Dave whispers and I wonder if anything ever bothers that man.

A sudden low groan holds us all in place.  One long single groan and our hearts race at the unmistakable sound of an undead.  We freeze stock still as the noise echoes round the room, none of us able to pinpoint the direction it came from.  Glancing round I can’t even see the others that clearly, just bright orbs of light from the torches.

Another groan rolls round the room.  Low and deep.  The hairs on the back of my neck stand up but I still can’t tell where it’s coming from but it sounds different to the first one.

The beams of torch light sweep round quickly and I grip the pistol, raising it up to point into the darkness.

Feet shuffling on the floor, heard but unseen.  Groans straight ahead, then off to the left and then the right.  Groans from all around us.  A feeling of being surrounded.  Our torches make us instantly visible.  Beacons of light being circled by an enemy unseen.

A piercing howl rips through the air as the twisted features of a zombie come running into view, drawn to my torchlight like a moth to a flame.  The thing launches itself at me, moving quickly, head fixed and staring.

‘Shit, no light down here…not shufflers,’ I shout in warning and raise the pistol firing several times into the mass coming at me.  The retort of the pistol is deafening in this enclosed space, the muzzle flash is blinding but I see the thing drop down to lie twitching on the ground.  More shots ring out, single and double taps that drown any other sound out.  My ears are ringing and I can’t hear them shuffle or groan.

‘Get into a circle,’ I shout, ‘on me, on me’ I repeat the calls and flick my torch on and off so they can find the way to go.  More howls pierce the air as zombies rush into the light, a sudden transition from dark to light, teeth barred and heads already lunging forward.  Shouts of alarm and pistol shots ring out.  Bodies hit the ground as the undead are shot down.  We get into our basic fighting circle, backs together and facing out.

‘INCOMING,’ Dave bellows as undead bodies launch themselves at us.  Pistols fire quickly as we expend the valuable ammunition.  They click empty and we’re once more back to hand weapons, fending off the savage frenzied attacks, swiping out with vicious swings and shouts of anger as the things lunge from the darkness.  Holding our weapons one handed so we can grip the vital torches.  Our circle spins and twists as more bodies come flying from the darkness to meet a grizzly end from heavy axe or sharp knife.

‘I’ve lost sense of direction,’ Clarence shouts out.  We all have from the darkness and the spinning round.  None of us are able to tell which way to go.  Another zombie lunges in screeching with venomous hatred as Dave darts out and takes it down.  More rush in from all sides and I grip the torch between my teeth so I can use two hands on the axe.  Dave gets swallowed up in the darkness as the rest of us fight with desperation.  Hand to hand combat with night-time zombies in the pitch black of an echoing ships hold.  Grunts of exertion sound out as we lunge and swipe, trying to hold our circle.

‘Dave?’ I shout during a quick break in the fighting and removing the torch from my mouth.

‘Here,’ Dave shouts from the gloom.

‘Doesn’t really help mate,’ I shout back.

‘Be quiet please and let me listen,’ he shouts back and we all go silent, holding position and trying to make any noise.

‘Can you turn the torches off for a second,’ Dave shouts.

‘NO!’ He gets a chorus of replies.

‘Okay,’ he shouts back.  The sound of bodies hitting the ground reach us as Dave somehow manages to move between them.

‘HERE ZOMBIES….HERE ZOMBIES,’ Dave shouts into the room, flashing his torch on and off, trying to draw the things to him.  They kindly respond and we hear the wet ripping sound of his knives tearing flesh open followed by the thuds of bodies dropping.

‘Coming in….don’t shoot,’ Dave appears from behind a column and takes his place next to me.

‘We don’t have any bullets left Dave,’ Clarence says pointedly.

‘Well just in case,’ Dave replies.

‘How many did you get?’ Tom asks.

‘Eight,’ Dave answers instantly.

‘Oh,’ Tom says quietly.

Keeping our formation we move slowly through the hold, stepping on and over bodies.  Torches shining out and trying to find the way.

‘Over here,’ Blowers shouts, ‘there’s a switch to open the roof up.’

‘Will it work with the engines off?’ Tom asks.

‘Fucking try it,’ Cookey yells.  We crab sideways, heading towards the side and a big red lever next to a large grey electrical box, a big white arrow points upwards with the word ROOF stencilled next to it.  Reaching the side, Blowers grips the handle and pulls it down.  Flashing lights and an alarm sounds out as a hydraulic whine starts up.

‘INCOMING,’ Lani shouts as more undead come lurching from the deep dark shadows.  The sudden sight of them caught in the torchlight is terrifying.  Ghostly white faces with dried blood and horrific injuries.  Flesh torn open and clothes hanging off them.  Clawed hands held out, and the red bloodshot eyes almost shining in the reflection from the torches.

We fight and kill as a tiny sliver of light forms in roof.  More undead stagger as we hold our position and fight out.  The gap in the roof widens as the blessed light starts shining down hurting even our eyes from the near pitch blackness of the hold.  The light floods a small long narrow strip on the floor and I watch as a zombie runs from the darkness and crosses the light.  As the daylight hits his face he slows instantly and starts to shuffle but passes back into the night and suddenly becomes animated again, howling and continuing his jerky running.

We hold our position as the gap widens.  Then a heavy thud sounds out from a body falling through the widening gap to land in the strip of light.

‘What the fuck is that?’ Nick shouts.

‘The bodies from the top, they’re falling through the gap,’ Blowers shouts in reply.

‘EYES ON,’ Dave roars and darts out to take a charging zombie down.  More sickening heavy thuds as the bodies we killed on the deck fall through the doors pulling back.

‘Fuck it’s raining zombies,’ Cookey jokes, ‘shit watch out!’ we burst apart as a body falls inches in front of us.  With no choice but to split up we move out trying to avoid the falling zombies and the ones still running in to attack us.

‘Get in the light,’ I shout and move into the widening strip of daylight now stretching across the room.  The rest get into line either side of me as we stand in the light dancing between the bodies sliding off the retracting roof.  Zombies stagger in to attack but instantly slow as the light hits them, making our killing easier.  The instant transformation is incredible.  Quick moving beasts turning instantly into the drooling shufflers.

It’s over within a couple of minutes.  We stay within the light moving out and killing them off as they turn slow.  Eventually we’re in full glorious daylight and once again surrounded by hundreds of bodies.

‘Now that’s worth knowing,’ Nick says with a full spin round, ‘no light so they didn’t know if it was night or day.’

‘By the skin of our teeth again,’ Cookey grimaces, ‘what was that you said Mr Howie about every half hour?’

‘Bloody fact Cookey, spread out and see what we’ve got here.’  With the light now shining down we move through the large hold, stepping over the bodies and examining the stacks and piles of goods.  Most them food and cleaning materials.  Engine parts, spare machine bits.  Each column has a manifesto stuck to the side.

‘Tinned fruit,’ Tom shouts in an excited voice and starts attacking the plastic film, ripping it away to pull the boxes down onto the deck.  We gather round and scoop the plain tins up, shoving several into our kit bags for later.

‘There,’ Dave points to a smaller pallet, a big wooden crate with a locked lid secured by a numbered security tag.  He jogs over and kicks down on the clasp, snapping it free.  Wrenching the top back he delves in and starts pulling boxes out, dumping them on the ground.

Gathering round we give a low cheer at the sight of the wooden lids marked with 5.56, the standard size of ammunition for the SA80 assault rifle.  Dave prizes the lids open and we find pre-loaded magazines wrapped in grease-proof paper.

‘Get as many as you can,’ Dave says quietly and rather needlessly as we drop down and start filling every spare inch of our kit bags with the magazines.  Dave and Blowers load the two recovered assault rifles.

‘This is like Christmas,’ Cookey laughs, ‘any pistol rounds there?’

‘No,’ Dave replies lifting the boxes from the pallets and checking the lid of each before stacking them to one side.  At the bottom of the pile two larger boxes form the base, both locked secured with multiple security tags.

‘Bingo,’ Clarence clearly recognises the boxes and bends down to rip the lids off with his bare hands.  Pulling the new and shiny assault rifles out.

‘Oh look at them,’ Nick says in awe, ‘hello babies…oh we’ve missed you,’ he takes one of the weapons, his hands moving deftly over the weapon.  He strips the plastic cover off and slides the bolt back, checking down the sights, hefting the weapon to his shoulder and then starting on the strap, getting it to the length he wants.

‘Have you used these before Tom?’ Clarence asks.

‘Not these, I fired the police weapons on the range during an assessment for the firearms teams,’ Tom replies.

‘Lani?’ Clarence looks to the woman.

‘No never,’ Lani shakes her head.

‘Boss, alright if I quickly run them through the basics?’

‘Crack on mate, here take these,’ I hand Lani and Tom a weapon each and watch as they step away with Clarence.  He drops down into a crouch and starts running them through the weapons basic moving parts, naming each part separately.

‘This is a good day,’ I mutter to the rest of them as they strip the covers off and load their weapons, ‘a very good day.’

‘Apart from Nick breaking the pier and then setting our boat on fire,’ Cookey adds quickly.

‘Fuck you, I don’t know how that fire started,’ Nick retorted defensively.

‘I’m joking mate,’ Cookey said softly, ‘just don’t break this one.’

‘Fuck off Cookey!’  The banter starts as I think to how lucky this find was.  But then it wasn’t all luck.  It was us, planning and working out the best way to make our luck.  We got the ship; we killed the zombies and risked our lives to get the prize.  With these weapons we stand a much greater chance of survival and I’m already trying to figure out how to carry more of the ammunition with us.

‘Anything else down here?’ I ask Dave, ‘we could do with ammunition for the pistols and the GPMG.’

‘Fuck it, we might find another GPMG,’ Blowers adds hopefully.

‘How we gonna carry it all?’ Cookey asks.

‘Load a lifeboat, get to shore and find a vehicle… easy,’ Blowers shrugs.

‘Or we take what we can now and come back later’ Cookey argues.

‘What’s the point in that?’ Nick asks, ‘just take everything we can now like Blowers said.’

‘Someone else could have seen us getting on here, especially with that ferry boat pissing smoke out like that, we might lose it if we leave it here,’ Blowers continues.

‘Okay,’ Cookey nods, ‘yeah fair enough then, makes sense,’ the lad concedes.

‘Mr Howie, I can take Blowers and start searching for the armoury while you check the other stacks here?’ Dave offers.

‘Okay, do that mate.  Nick, Cookey you start checking the other stacks.  Hang on, we’ve got those radios.  Use them.’  We all reach for the radios on our bags and switch them on, each one blaring out with a second of static before locking onto the signal.

‘Shout if you get any contact,’ I call out as they start moving away.

‘You too Mr Howie,’ Dave replies and they move off swiftly.  Nick, Cookey and I start moving round the remaining stacks, checking the typed manifestos.

‘Dave to Mr Howie, radio check over.’

‘Howie to Dave, loud and clear over.’

‘Dave to Mr Howie, likewise out.’

‘Cookey to Blowers radio check over.’

‘Blowers to Cookey, loud and clear over.’

‘Cookey to Blowers does this take you back? Being surrounded by seamen?...over.’

‘Dave to Cookey, radio discipline from now, out!’

‘Sorry Dave,’ Cookey replaces the radio and I have to turn away as I giggle gently and once again ponder how the lads can make the word “Dave” sound like “Sarge”.

Looking over I see Clarence shaking his head at Cookey with a wry smile and trying not to laugh too before turning back to Lani and Tom.

The stacks all contain rice, pasta, flour and basic ingredients.  Cleaning materials, soaps and bleaches, disinfectants and scrubbing pads.  Tinned food, lots of tinned food.  One pallet even contains replacement uniform and boxes of new boots.  We strip that one apart and root through the boxes, but they’re all high visibility stuff and big clumpy steel toe capped work boots.  Before too long Clarence has got Lani and Tom dry firing and changing magazines, shouting out when they do so.  He drills them over and again and I watch as the intelligence shows as they grasp the basics with ease.

‘Blowers to Mr Howie over.’

‘Howie to Blowers, go ahead.’

‘We’ve got RIBS here, all ready to go for launching, we can load them up and use them over.’

‘How will we get them off the ship over?’

‘There’s a bit hatch thing here with a winch, we can open it and lower the boats down over.’

‘Roger, where are you, we’ll start bringing the stuff through.’

‘Go to the end, through the doors and down the corridor, I’ll meet you there over.’

‘Okay mate, on way,’ pushing the radio back on my belt we all converge on the boxes of ammunition and try to take one each, which is easy for Clarence but the rest of us end up sharing one box between two and moving through the hold towards the end.  By the time we get there, Blowers is already in the corridor, grinning widely and nodding his head for us to follow him.

Down the short passage and through another set of doors into a wide open room containing two army Landrover’s, bicycles and a big powerful looking RIB with an oversized rubber skirt and a mean looking engine on the back.  Four hooks; two at the front and two at the rear connect the RIB to long chains hanging from a winch and the wall next to the boat looks to be a roll up shutter.  Moving quickly, all of us feeling a strange sense of oppression from the dark inert ship, we dump the ammunition crates and head back into the hold for more.  Dave and Blowers head off to complete their sweep for the armoury in the hope of finding ammunition for the GPMG.

‘Nick, see if you can get that door open,’ I point at the rolling shutter and the complicated set of controls on the wall for using the shutter and the winch and an extended vehicle ramp used for the vehicles to be driven.  Using his torch, Nick examines the controls and pulls levers up and down.  Eventually he finds a manual override and starts winding a hand winch, the shutter creaks, groans and starts lifting slowly as a thin sliver of welcome daylight floods in.  Taking it in turns with Tom, the two of them winch the door open as the rest of us load the boxes onto the floor of the RIB, trying to keep the weight balanced.

‘Do we get in before it’s winched down?’ Cookey asks, looking between the RIB and the opening hatch.

‘No idea mate, we’ll figure something out in a minute,’ I reply as I reach for the radio on my belt, ‘Howie to Dave, you got anything yet?’

‘Dave to Mr Howie, not yet over.’

‘Howie to Dave, okay we want to be back in our fort before dark though.  I don’t fancy spending the night on this ship, there could be loads of them left on here.’

‘Dave to Mr Howie understood out.’

‘There’s a scramble net here,’ Nick says, pulling a bundle of knitted ropes out from a locker in the ground, ‘we just roll this down and climb down it.’

‘Nice one mate, I think we’re just about ready.’ I walk over to the now open hatch and stand staring down at the almost perfectly flat surface of the sea.  It looks so inviting and just ready to be plunged into.  The sultry warm air makes it feel Mediterranean, almost tropical.  Perfect holiday weather and just right for dozing on a beach reading a book and sipping a cold beer.

‘Looks beautiful,’ Lani says quietly from beside me. I glance over at her own sultry good looks, almost tropical in appearance with her long black hair and tanned skin.

‘Definitely,’ I reply and she smiles, keeping her gaze out to sea and not turning to look at me.

‘I meant the view,’ she says.

‘Me too,’ I laugh softly and turn away to see Nick lighting a smoke up, leaning against a wall and exhaling a soft cloud of smoke.  He nods and offers me his packet, I nod back so he throws it over and I tap one out, taking my lighter from my pocket and igniting the end.  Savouring the harshness of the smoke pulled down my throat.  Cookey sits down on the edge of the RIB and rubs his face while Clarence moves round the room examining the Landrover’s and bicycles.

‘These take me back,’ his deep voice drifts over, ‘we used to use Landy’s all the time.  Pity we can’t one with us.’

‘I don’t think we’ll get it into the RIB mate,’ I reply, ‘but I’m sure Nick would have a go at driving the boat into the shore if you want.’

‘No thanks boss,’ Clarence appears round the front of the vehicle, grinning at Nick, ‘not after the last one eh?’

‘Ah, I’m really sorry about that,’ Nick grumbles, ‘I really don’t know what happened.’

‘Dave to Mr Howie,’ my radio bursts to life.

‘Go ahead over.’

‘We found the armoury, who needs a rifle?’

‘I think we all got one now from the new ones in the boxes, grab some spares though, do you need a hand?’

‘No there’s a trolley jack here, we’ll be back in five out.’

‘Okay mate.’

We chat amiably for a few minutes until we hear a steady squeak coming from the end of the room, Dave and Blowers appear pushing a low trolley with one squeaking wheel, Blowers grinning like the devil himself and Dave looking as devoid of expression as ever.

‘Wot you grinning at Blowers?’ Cookey asks with a laugh.

‘Ta Daaa,’ Blowers pulls a cover from the trolley to reveal a long machine gun, the front lifted up on a tripod.

‘Very nice,’ Clarence steps over and hefts the General Purpose Machine Gun from the trolley, holding it one handed and instantly looking like a bald Rambo.

‘Suits you mate,’ I smile at him as Dave lifts a few heavy boxes of ammunition belts from the trolley.

‘You fucking beauty,’ Nick calls out as he scoots over to Clarence and starts examining the weapon.

‘It’s huge,’ Lani says with a shocked face, ‘is that the GP…thing you keep mentioning?’

‘GPMG, means General Purpose Machine Gun and is has proven to be one of our most effective weapons in the fight against the zombie invasion,’ Clarence explains.

‘So that’s better than these?’ Lani lifts her assault rifle and looks between the two.

‘That uses 5.56 rounds, this uses 7.62, bigger rounds, more firepower, greater range, it’s belt fed too which means less stoppage for magazine changes,’ Clarence replies.

‘They’re bloody good,’ Blowers adds.

‘Really bloody good,’ Nick grins, ‘I feel better now we’re tooled up properly again.’

‘I know what you mean mate, right let’s get out of here I don’t like this ship.’  We unload the trolley into the RIB, distributing the weight evenly.  Dave and Blowers also found pistol magazines in the armoury and hand them round until we each equipped with a loaded pistol and spare magazines, an assault rifles and lots of spare magazines, a sawn off shotgun with hardly any shells, axes, meat cleavers and knives.  Trousers tucked into boots, tight tops and we look like a nasty bunch of bastards ready to overthrow some small country.

The RIB gets winched up, swung out and lowered down the side of the vessel until it plops onto the surface of the water.  The scramble net is rolled down and we start to descend, going hand over hand until we reach the boat and balance precariously on the rubber skirt and hop onto the solid base.  Dave is the last one down, and once on-board we detach the hooks from the winch and push the RIB away from the ship while Nick goes to the central column and gets the engine going.

Minutes later and we’re steadily cruising away from the Navy supply ship, fully loaded with weapons and enjoying the wind blowing against our faces.  Nick takes it steady, not wanting to risk the valuable cargo and heads us away from the mouth of Portsmouth harbour, moving along the coast towards our fort.

Eleven

Jagger moves quickly with his patrol stretched out behind him.  Sixteen years old, of mixed race background and he was a switched on kid.  Coming from a heart breaking background of abuse, neglect and poverty he took to the streets from an early age and did what it took to survive and get through the day.  Now, with the security of the compound and his mates at his sides he feels a sense of belonging and loyalty.  As crew chief he also feels responsible and has matured tenfold just within the last few days.  Respected and well-liked he intends to stay that way and is deeply pleased that Maddox is now the boss with Darius as number two.  He liked the Bossman, they all did, but the Bossman was never one of them.  He was a rich older white man intent on making money from the young council estate kids taking all the risks.  He proved himself when the event happened and moved faster than anyone else, getting the compound secured and the kids safely inside.  But still, Maddox was one of them and he knew what they’d all been through, so it was better he was in charge.

Jagger felt proud when Darius sought him out and asked him to lead a patrol out with instruction to not engage with anyone, no stopping and talking, no taxing survivors, just move round the estate and make sure nothing bad was going on anywhere and get back so they could carry on working.

As they threaded their way out of the gates, Jagger and his small company moved quietly and quickly through the streets.  Stepping over and round the festering dead bodies, decomposing in the sun.  He had wondered why they hadn’t cleared them away but Maddox said the smell covered up the compound and made it harder for the infected to find them.  That’s why Maddox was in charge, cos he thought of things like that.  Jagger had already decided to volunteer his crew for the night’s security, wanting the honour of going first and when he mentioned it to his crew they readily accepted.

Now, in the oppressive heat of the scorching late afternoon sun the crew started their patrol.  Moving down the main roads, checking the side streets and avenues and stopping to listen at every junction.  The chat and banter between them was muted and quiet, his crew well-trained and experienced at staying nimble and alert.  As the afternoon wore on, so Jagger felt a growing sense of discomfort.

Every street was empty.  No infected anywhere, no survivors picking through the debris and litter or breaking into the houses.  Nothing appeared to have changed either, it was quiet, too quiet and his crew picked up on it too.  Moving quietly and examining the streets with care they found not a single infected anywhere.

‘Speed up, we need to check the whole place,’ Jagger whispered to his crew, afraid of speaking loud in the deafening silence of the deserted estate.

They did speed up and moved faster at a jogging pace, street by street, suburb by suburb, checking the various sets of shops and lock ups but nothing anywhere.  It was eerie and profound and Jagger wanted nothing more than to head back to the compound and the laughing and joking with all his mates.

As they entered a suburb previously allocated to Jagger and his crew, he moved them down to a house he knew was occupied by survivors.  Standing outside he stared hard at the house, the windows were boarded up and the door had extra planks nailed across.  No sign of life.  He’d been told not to engage or speak to anyone but Jagger felt something wasn’t right, something was up.  He hesitated for a few minutes but in the end, chose to do as told instead of trying to speak to the people in the house.  Walking away he felt eyes staring at him from the house but every time he turned back there was nothing to see.

Entering the compound, the gates already open to welcome them in and proving that the tower worked by Jagger and his crew being seen way down the street, Jagger was handed a bottle of water by Darius as he crew moved off to get drinks and find shade.

‘Something ain’t right bruv,’ Jagger took a long swig and wiped the sweat from his head, ‘there’s nothin’ out there, you get me? Nuffin’.  No infected, no survivors, the place is empty bruv.’

‘You what?’ Darius asked.

‘I’m tellin’ you bruv, there was no movement, no infected, no zombies, no survivors, nothing, the whole estate is empty.  We went everywhere, all the way down to the beach and the only thing we saw was some smoke like way out to sea, like a boat on fire or something innit.’

‘A boat?’ Darius repeated, clearly confused.

‘Yeah like miles away in the sea just some black smoke going up into the sky innit, there ain’t nuffin’ else out there.’

‘So where they all gone?’ Darius asked more to himself.

‘Dunno but it freaked us all out swear down.’

‘Yeah, get some rest Jagger, I’ll tell Maddox.’

‘Sweet bruv.’

Darius moved off to find Maddox but with a hundred plans trying to be implemented and not having felt the eeriness himself something became lost in translation.  By the time he found Maddox, in the unit talking to Lenski, he simply reported that Jagger had not seen anyone and no infected either, he did mention that Jagger was freaked out a little but the conversation quickly moved on to sorting the houses out and getting clean bedding, if they should keep all of the cannabis plants or just some, if they should let the crews use their back gardens or not, and re-arranging the tents in the compound.

The emptiness of the estate, the lack of infected or survivors noted by Jagger was hardly pressed upon.

To the north, barely a few miles away and on the other side of the motorway bordering the estate.  The hordes gather quietly.  Hundreds and hundreds of undead, fetid, decaying, drooling and all of them hungry.

They mass in great numbers, held in place by the will of the super zombie holding his position on the unused motorway and staring with evil intent at the estate and the young tender bodies held within.

Looking up at the sky the taxi driving zombie feels the heat of the day but knows the darkness is but a few hours away.

Within the estate, survivors sharpen knives, tape blades to the end of sticks and make spears, find bats and ram nails through the ends, get bottles of white spirit and other flammable liquids and stuff rags in the necks.  They quietly busy themselves, preparing for the darkness and the fun it will bring.

Some are in a state of nervous trepidation.  Others are excited and a few are outright shitting themselves.  But they all know that if they move together, if they fight together they will take the compound and get the prize held within it.  The drugs, the alcohol, the food, the safety.  Then they will be the ones living in proper comfort while those feral little shits are put back out on the streets where they belong.

Twelve

‘Look at that,’ Lani points over the back of RIB and out to sea, at the thick black smoke billowing from the ferry still drifting across the sea.

‘That’s a big smoke signal,’ I mutter quietly, reminded of Dave’s concerns from earlier and suddenly realising how easily we can be spotted now.  We moved several miles down the coast, going away from Portsmouth and moving just a few hundred metres from the shore line, watching for the fort.  None of us know exactly where it is, but we know it is this direction.

The shore line changes from beautiful sandy beaches, rocky outcrops and manicured landscapes bordered by villages, fields and seaside businesses.  Small harbours dotted here and there, some of them nothing more than a couple of pontoons with fishing boats tied alongside.  The whole scene looks serene and comforting.  Safe even.  Rural England at the seaside, whitewashed cottages, brightly coloured wooden dinghies, shoreside pubs with tables and chairs scattered about, sun umbrellas advertising beers and soft drinks.

The steady rumble of the outboard engine, the gentle breeze and the warmth of the day give me hope.  Lani glancing at me every now and then, smiling and looking content.  The whole thing gives me a sense of hope.  Hope that there will be a future for mankind and that we can recover from this and maybe even make it better in the end.

Green fields stretching away from the shore suddenly give way to houses.  Lots of houses.  A sprawling mess of a housing estate going back as far as the eye can see and seemingly going on for miles.  Even from here the cheap shitty state of the houses are easily spotted.  The rundown feel of the place.  Terraced and semi-detached houses, built close together.  It looks rough with items of furniture visible in front gardens.  Satellite dishes hanging off walls, old paint and road poorly maintained.  We all stare inland, watching as it slowly drifts by and I know I’m thanking whatever powers that rule us that I wasn’t in that estate when this thing went off.  It would have been hell in such a built up urban area, people living on top of each other in an already hardened state of life.

My family are working class, not posh or wealthy in any respect but thankfully we never lived on estates like that and I’ve heard stories about how hard they can be, and the reality television programmes that showed the lives of the twisted morals, the drug and alcohol abuse, the crime and violence.  But like most people that never came from areas like that, I can’t help but look down my nose at them, at the way they lived, the aggressive overly defensive street language.

Bloody hell, the end of the world, the zombie apocalypse is upon us and I’m still sneering at the perceived rough common people.  I’m not the only one either judging by the comments of “chav city” and “pikey land” being muttered from everyone else.

Then the engine cuts out.

And we all turn to stare at Nick.  Nick, who I have personally seen staring down hordes of zombie with a laughing glint in his eye.  Facing certain death with barely a tremor.  A hardened killer, skilled fighter, tough lad with a skill for electrical and mechanical things.  He swam after a ferry and scaled a rope just to stop it getting away.  But right now, sitting behind the wheel of a RIB, on a perfectly flat sea a few hundred metres from shore, and with the rest of us staring at him, he holds a look of horror on his face.  Frozen in time.  Unmoving as the silence descends and the only noise is the gentle lapping of the water from the front as the momentum of the boat pushes us along.

‘Shit,’ Nick mutters in a high pitched voice, ‘shit shit shit.’

‘Nick…’ Blowers asks softly.

‘Shit…shit shit shit,’ Nick repeats and grimaces as he twists the key and pushes the start button.

‘Nick….’ Blowers growls now with an edge to his voice.

‘I’m never fucking driving again, you lot can fuck off and drive yourselves from now on, fucking boats cutting out and engines….shit shit shit.’

‘Nick!’ Clarence’s deep voice snaps his head up, ‘it’s okay mate just calm down.’

‘Yeah thanks,’ Nick sighs with a look of relief.

‘And fix the bloody boat,’ Clarence adds and the look of shock on Nick’s face sets me off as I burst out laughing.  Cookey and Blowers instantly join in, laughing with delight.  Nick smiles sheepishly and sticks his fingers up as we clamber our way over to him.

‘Don’t worry mate, boats just aren’t your thing,’ Blowers jokes.

‘Or piers,’ Lani shouts over to a fresh outbreak of giggles.

‘There’ll be some paddles here somewhere,’ Cookey says looking about.

‘Paddles? Are we on a hire boat on a canoe lake?’ Clarence grumbles, ‘you mean oars.’

‘Same thing,’ Cookey scratches his head, ‘aren’t they?’

‘We’ve got two,’ Lani holds two small oars up.

‘What’s wrong with it Nick?’ I ask the poor lad sat looking dumbstruck on the centre seat with his head in his hands.

‘No fuel Mr Howie,’ he replies quietly.

‘That’s not your fault mate; anyone of us could have checked that.’

‘Are we paddling along the coast or putting in here at gangsta land?’

‘I think we’d better go in here mate, find a vehicle and go by road.  It’ll take hours to paddle along the coast with so many of us in this boat.’

‘Right, I’ll take one on this side,’ Clarence takes one of the oars and straddles the rubber skirt.

‘I’ll do the other side,’ I reach out to take the oar from Lani, who stares at me with a look of mock defiance.

‘I can paddle perfectly well Mr Howie,’ she smiles to show she’s joking and straddles the skirt.  Both of them start moving the paddles through the water and within a couple of minutes it’s very clear this is going to be a long job.  Two small paddles trying to push a big RIB through the water with several adults, loads of guns, crates of ammunition and a bloody great big machine gun.

We swap over with me and Cookey taking the next turn, and then we keep swapping over, trying to paddle hard and making barely any discernible progress.  Sweating freely, panting and drinking bottles of water we lean down and use our hands in the water, frantically paddling and trying to reach the shore.

It does get closer, but painfully slowly and we all become acutely aware of the sun dropping down towards the horizon and the coming night.

‘Fucking stuck in chav land in the middle of the night, we’ll get mugged…I’m telling you,’ Cookey whines looking up at the shore.

‘Who is going to mug us? Blowers asks between ragged breaths.

‘Those little chav gangsta shits, they’ll have more guns than us,’ Cookey replies.

‘Swear down bruv,’ Nick says.

‘Innit blood,’ Lani says in a brilliant accent, ‘swear down my bling blood innit.’ Giggles burst out as she continues in a perfect movie accent of council estate speak.

‘I was born on a council estate,’ Dave says cutting through the laughter instantly.

‘Really?’ I ask him, suspicious this might be one of his attempts at humour.

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

‘Where?’

‘Hang on, I think we’re into the shallows,’ Clarence interrupts.  He unclips his belt, handing the pistol and magazines to Lani and drops over the side, landing chest deep to a low chorus of cheers.  He ducks down and washes the sweat from his face as Dave leans over the front and hands him a rope which looks like a thin bit of string in his big mitts.  Then he starts wading and then we all feel the boat start to move faster.  As we get closer, Nick and Tom drop over, taking rope and pulling the boat in.

‘Pull my beauties, pull me to the shore my servants…swear down innit blood,’ Lani stands at the very front, her feet planted wide and her hands on her hips looking down at the lads with a haughty expression.  That sets us off again and even Dave smiles at the sight of Lani the queen ordering her subjects.  She finds a length of rope and, taking care not to hit anyone, she whips the surface of the water and shouts demonically, ‘PULL MY SHIP…PULL IT HARDER MWA HA HA’

Laughing like bloody idiots, with Cookey physically bent over and crying at the sight we gradually make it to the shore and jump down to help pull the boat up the pebble beach.

‘Bloody look at that,’ Blowers shakes his head at the sight of the broken glass bottles, take away wrapping and litter strewn across the narrow beach.

‘We need a vehicle, we can’t carry that lot,’ I walk up the beach and onto the road, looking up and down for any signs of vehicles.  Nothing in sight.  With a sigh I walk back, grimacing at the lengthening shadows and the onset of dusk.

‘We can’t split the group and we don’t want to leave that lot here, but then we can’t carry it all either.’

‘Mr Howie, we could hide some of it in one of those buildings,’ Tom points across the road to the row of semi-detached houses.  All of them look normal, undamaged and empty.

‘Dump some stuff here and come back for it,’ Clarence nods in agreement, stripping his boots off and wringing his socks out.  In this heat he’ll be dry in no time.

‘Dave?’ I ask, looking at Dave examining the houses.

‘It’s the best option but we need to move fast otherwise anyone watching us land here will know we delayed for something.’

‘Okay, you go and clear one of the houses and we’ll bring the stuff over.’

‘On it,’ Dave answers and jogs over the road, picking a middle house that looks as average as the others.  He disappears round the back and less than a minute later the front door opens and he nods for us to come over.

Carrying the crates, boxes and spare rifles we do shuttle runs across the road, securing the load into an upstairs room.  We ditch our shotguns too, but keep the axes and knives, then armed with assault rifles we gather back outside while Dave locks the front door from the inside and scoots out the back.

‘Bloody hell Clarence, you carrying that?’ I turn round to see Clarence stood there holding the GPMG by the top handle, loops of ammunition belts gathered round his neck and making him look even more mercenary than before.

‘I always used to carry one of these, back in the day,’ Clarence lifted the gun with ease and showed the end of the ammunition belt already fed into the side of the weapon, ‘Malcolm and Chris always took the piss but it got us out of some tight spots.’

‘Yeah I can imagine,’ I reply as Dave joins us.  Then we’re back.  Our group, on foot and armed to the teeth.  I did consider waiting the night out in the house but I know we all want to get back to the fort.

‘Night is here,’ Tom says looking up at the black sky and the stars shining down.

‘No howling,’ Blowers cocks his head to listen.  We all do the same, straining but there is virtually no noise other than the sounds caused by our presence.

‘Let’s move out find a vehicle, get back here and get our stuff then back to the fort.  Stay quiet and keep your eyes and ears open.  Dave up front, Clarence at the rear, okay? Let’s go.’

Thirteen

The earth spins on its axis as the rays from the sun sweep across the surface.  Night becomes dawn, but here, on a motorway in the south of England; day becomes night.  A quickening takes place and the ex-taxi driving zombie feels his heart soar as the last of the golden rays plunge below the horizon.

As one, the massed gathering lift their faces and howl into the air, guttural roars that fill the sky and they change instantly from the stumbling, shambling, slow moving things of the day into the evil terrors of the night.  Heads become fixed, eyes focus, and limbs twitch less.  Steps become easier and controlled and then the exodus starts.  Pouring from the embankment they drop down onto the tarmac of the road, gathering round the super zombie, growling and whining with impatience.  He waits until most of them are down and then sets off, using the moonlight to pick his way through across the road, over the central reservation, across the other lane and down the embankments.  Into the thin fields that border the estate and then they pass through into the urban squalor.  Hordes and hordes of zombies pouring into the streets and keeping pace with the intelligent face of the super zombie pacing at the front.

The ex-taxi driver has perfect knowledge of the road layout and knows exactly where to go.  Straight down through the estate and then up the main road that leads to the compound.  An all-out frontal charge that will over-whelm the tender pieces of meat within the high fences.

His own mouth fills with drool at the pressing urge to feed, saliva spools down his shirt as he quickens his pace.

Fourteen

‘Are we all here?’ Jeff whispers loudly into the dark shadows of the library.  Moonlight and fag ends glinting off the metal nails sticking out of bats and sticks.  The medley of weaponry staggered him at first and his face split into a grin at the sight of the savage bastards tooled up and ready for Armageddon.

‘Okay now listen, everyone that lives to the east of the centre will attack from that side, everyone that lives west will go from this side.  We go up the two side streets and meet at the middle.’

‘Which way is east?’

‘Am I from east or west?’

‘Is that left or right Jeff?’

‘Fuc….okay, if you live the other side of the compound then loop round and come in from your side, those of us that live this side will come in from this side.’

‘Why are we doing that Jeff?’

‘If we go straight up the middle road they’ll see us miles off, and in the dark with two big groups coming at them they’ll think we’ve got even bigger numbers and might give up easier.’

‘Or fight harder,’ a voice calls out to a reply of “Ssshh” from various people.

‘So, we give it half hour and then go for it, that gives you plenty of time to loop round, got it?’

‘Can we throw our Molotov cocktails?’ someone whispers.

‘Don’t be so bloody stupid, you’ll burn all the plants down,’ someone replies.

‘Oh okay, maybe just at the gates then.’

‘No, no fire bombs.’

‘None at all.’

‘No.’

‘Well that’s not fair…’

‘Hang on,’ Jeff whispers frantically, trying to prevent an all-out argument from erupting, ‘take them with you, if we need them we’ll call for them, got it?’

‘What like in the movies, what you gonna yell? Mortars?’

‘Er…yeah we’ll yell mortars,’ Jeff says exasperated.

‘Okay…thanks Jeff.’

‘That’s okay Rodney…now everyone ready? Yes? Good and don’t forget that nasty bastard Maddox or whatever his name is, make sure someone gets him quickly. Right let’s go.’

Fifteen

‘Okay okay,’ Maddox waves his arms to settle the crowds of youths gathered round the roaring fire in the pit.  ‘Now that has been a long day, a very long day and we’ve everything done that we set out to achieve.’ He stands tall and proud.  Proud of the tired faces looking up at him.  In the course of one day they have gone from being dope smoking faces hiding in hoods to normal fresh faced youngsters, flushed from a day’s physical exertion and effort.  Maddox made them eat good food too, tinned vegetables, rice and tinned meat, and washed down with plenty of fresh water.

‘I’m proud of you guys, I know we all come from the streets and we talk like gangsta’s innit bruv…and everyone hated us.  We were the pests of the estate; we were the shit that blighted everyone’s lives.  The schools rejected us, our families rejected us but we had each other.  We stood by each other during the bad times and now look at us.  We’re the ones in a safe place with loads of food while everyone else is shitting themselves.  We went out there and killed those things.  Us! Children and youths went out and took down the infected and made sure our streets were safe.  Now we have a bigger compound with high fences, weapons, a guard tower, houses, food, water and we have each other.’ Maddox’s voice carries strong across the rear of the compound, and even cynical hardened youths like Darius and Mohammed are stirred by his words.

‘Jagger is taking first watch tonight, he volunteered for it.  In fact, all the crews volunteered for the first overnight watch and you know what that tells me? That tells me we got each other’s backs.  We ain’t the little gangsta shits they all think we are.  We’re the future, we got community right here and we made it, and we gonna keep it.  We gonna make it bigger and safer.  We gonna take this area back and show everyone that if they want to live in our yard, they do it under our rules. No more religion, no more racism, no more stereotypes and thinking we is thick cos we speak different.  This is our time now and we gonna make the rules from now on.’ Cheering erupts as the children and youths feel filled with pride.  Through their own hard work and dedication they’ve shown what can be achieved.

‘We gotta cut back on the weed,’ Maddox continued, ‘every now and then is cool, but too much fucks you up like Ryker and the Bossman.  That is not cool, you get me? We gonna be fit and healthy, fighters and warriors.  How can we protect each other if we stoned and doped up? Also, we ain’t gonna kill the survivors for not paying no more.  We defend ourselves at whatever cost and if that means we have to kill to defend what’s ours then that’s okay.  But those people out there are frightened, just like we were.  They scared and don’t know nuffin’, they ain’t hard or tough like we are, they can’t figure out how to get food either, so we gonna protect them.  And in return they can supply goods for us, food, clothing, whatever they got that they want to share.  If they need help and we can help them then we will.  We got to set the rules from now on.  If we kill them, then they will want to kill us and that puts us all in a constant state of war,’ Maddox pressed the point home, remembering the lessons the Bossman taught him.

‘The next couple of days we’ll get the houses rigged up and you’s can move into them, but we also gotta plant food and crops for the winter, so that means digging the ground up and stuff.  I don’t know how we do that so we might have to go to the library and find a book…unless anyone can get Google working?’ A few laughs break out, ‘We got plans, and we’ll do this together.  I got your backs and you got mine, right?’ A few murmurs and Maddox shook his head theatrically, ‘I said I got your backs so you got mine, right?’ Louder response this time, voices shouting out and caught in the moment.  The atmosphere of camaraderie bursting through them, the camp fire, the hard work done by all, the good food and the warm weather all combined to make them feel safe, wanted and secure.

‘Right it’s late, chill out and relax, we’ll get a generator on the monitors and Xboxes for a few games, you’s earned that but no weed and no booze tonight, you get me?’ A chorus of replies, excited about the prospect of playing games but most of them too exhausted to want to do anything other than fall asleep.

‘Jagger, you got the watch bruv,’ Maddox looked over to the crew chief stood off to one side with his crew stood around him.  All of them trying to affect an air of detached toughness.  Aloof and ready for action, armed with shotguns and rifles.

‘On it,’ Jagger replied and headed away with his crew. He led them to the front gates and sent two up the tower, then one into each end house to watch the side roads, one more on the ground at the base of the tower and the rest doing foot patrols around the perimeter.  All of them under strict instruction not to start playing games or get talking to the other kids for too long.  Keep moving and keep vigilant.  The only thing missing was a spotlight on the tower, still to be organised and rigged up by Maddox and Darius.

‘That was good speech,’ Lenski said softly as they walked back into the units.  As soon as they entered the dark shadows they stopped and kissed passionately for a few seconds before breaking away and giggling as they checked to make sure no one had seen them.

‘Thanks,’ Maddox replied after a few seconds of kissing.

‘It is all good now, so much better.  I am proud of you,’ Lenski murmured.

‘Thanks, that means a lot,’ and it did.  Maddox knew he was doing a good job and knew he had the respect and the love from the youths to get them to what he wanted, but it had been hard earned and came with a cost.  Thinking to the deaths of the Bossman, Zayden and Ryker he knew it was the way it panned out, events that he probably had no control over, and if it wasn’t for those awful things then this would never be happening.

‘So is the king ready for bed yet?’ Lenski smiled and ran her hands over his shoulders and down his arms.

‘Yeah he is, how about the queen? Is she ready?’

‘I not know this, I find Skyla and ask her,’ Lenski giggled.

‘Skyla?’ Maddox scoffed quietly, ‘I need a real woman.’

‘You think I am the real woman yes?’

‘Oh yes,’ taking her hand he leads her through the darkened units towards his room and once inside with the door closed the kissing continues.  Gentle at first and building up to a passionate frantic embrace with a sense of urgency propelling them both to strip off and fall onto the bed.  Moonlight pours through the small grimy window, illuminated the room with just enough light for them to vaguely see the outline of the furniture, but tantalisingly dark so that touch becomes the dominant sense.

‘You alright bruv?’ Jagger asks the youth staring out the window down the side street.  Having already checked the guard on the other side and the two in the tower he now checks on this one before moving off into the compound.

‘Yeah sweet Jagger,’ the kid answers, his shotgun resting against the wall and a small gas lantern turned low at his feet.

‘You got the radio, call me if you need anything or start fallin’ asleep, you get me?’

‘Swear down I will Jagger,’ the grins enthusiastically.

‘Nice one.’ Jagger quietly slips out, leaving the eleven year old boy staring out the window.  His small hands drumming a beat on the windowsill as he glances over and nods at the two kids on the tower.  Like most of the youths, he feels no great sense of loss from the infection taking his family and being here with everyone else is more of a family than he’s ever known, he’s getting fed, given water and nice things to drink and has got a nice bed to sleep in.  Humming a tune to himself he drums his hands and lets his mind wander off, staring at the road stretching away opposite him but not really seeing.  No street lights or illumination other than the natural moonlight.  Deep shadows blend into deeper silhouettes, building lines become muddled with garden walls, the end of the pavement is blurred and indistinct.  Stare at anything for too long and it takes on a form of its own, creating horrors within the imagination.

Minutes pass as he sips from a can of Redbull, specially preserved for the night security crews.  The syrupy taste is nice and he wants to gulp it down but he knows he’ll then have nothing to do, so he sips it gingerly and places it back down on the ground between his feet, then lifts it up and puts it on the windowsill.  Turning the can round so the front is facing him, then away, then front again.  He adjusts the position of the lamp a few times, then practises reaching for the shotgun.  He moves his seat round a little, making small adjustments so that he can reach it with ease, but moving the seat has warped the symmetry of the lamp and the can of Redbull so he sets about adjusting them so they are just right.

Finally and with a contented sigh of satisfaction he looks up and scans the view.  His mouth drops open and his heart rate, despite the near toxic ingredients of the energy drink, goes from sedate to panic within a split second.  Adrenalin purges through his system and his hands shake as he scrabbles for the radio knocking the can over and kicking the lantern away which instantly puffs out.  Cursing and fumbling in the dark he gropes round for the radio, unable to find it he looks back up and realises that there is no time to waste.

He leans out of the window, draws a deep breath and screams one word into the night.

‘CONTACT.’

Sixteen

The horde staggers through the estate, a demanding pressure building up as the undead growl at the steady pace they are held at.  The need to eat, to feast, to find flesh burns through them and consumes their every ounce of being but the zombie wants them together.  He wants a combined attack and the energy levels as high as possible.

The concentrated pack sweep down street after street and every jerky step brings them closer to the goal.  Minutes pass as they navigate the now deserted estate.  The decomposing bodies left on the ground are trampled by hundreds and hundreds of feet pummelling the squidgy bodies into a pulp.  Bare zombie feet get sliced and cut from sharp fragments of broken glass, blood seeps out only to clot and congeal faster than human blood.  These bodies are already so more advanced than the human form; having gone days without food or water, drawing off the reserves within their own forms, sucking the nutrients from organs and pumping them round.

Any sense of pain is gone.  No remorse, no emotions, no feeling other than a burning desire to eat flesh.  That’s all that drives them.  Vivid images of juicy tender meat being bitten into flash through their rotten minds.  Chemicals pumped into their bloodstream build their energy levels up.  The dead hearts beat faster and harder, the eyes roll and twitch as they seek food.  The ability to smell becomes heightened as they sniff the air in front of them, searching for the smell of fear, the smell of shit, the smell of piss, the smell of anything that means humans are near.

The horde pour round a long corner and start up a slight incline towards the compound.  One long straight road now and they’ll be there.  That fence will fall with the combined weight of so many bodies slamming into it.  They might shoot and fire their measly weapons but the taxi super zombie knows he will win the day and before the night is out, his hosts shall feast.

Seventeen

Jeff, after waiting for half an hour and feeling his patience wearing thin listening to the inane and absurd chatter of his fellow estatee’s, finally checks his watch and stares at the second hand.  Willing it to move round to the twelve.  Desperate to be off and moving but knowing they stand no chance without both groups converging at the same time.

‘Yeah so I said to our Millie she got to stand by ‘im, he’s doin’ a stretch and that’s hardly his fault is it, he’s doin’ the best he can bless ‘im and Millie she gotta wait, course she got the baby now and I know she ain't sure who the baby father is, he don’t know that but his dad got a BMW and she ain't gonna find no other boys with dads that got BMW’s so she gotta wait…’ And it went on.  Aimless and pointless talking, wasting perfectly good air.  That got Jeff thinking of what’s happened to the prisons? Surely they must be safe? Big walls, strong fences, plenty of food and tough men.  No one allowed in or out.  That would be bloody ironic if the only survivors were the inmates of the world.  What if they broke out now? Hundreds of hard men rampaging through the countryside raping and pillaging everything and everyone in sight.  That’s why he needs this compound now, the security for when the inmates all break out.  In his mind, all the inmates are the denim trousers and white vest wearing prisoners of the American movies.  Muscles on muscles, huge arms and shoulders, swastikas and random numbers inked into the shaven skulls.  With a shudder he checks his watch and whimpers with desperation as the second hand ticks slowly round.

He taps his foot.  Smokes a cigarette, taps the stave against his leg.  Stares at the night sky, takes his knife out from his belt and puts it back in again.  Then, after leaving it for what feels like hours he checks the watch and nods with satisfaction.  The time is here.  The time for action.

‘Let’s go, no talking now…we need absolute quiet until I say then we charge like mad, got it?’ Faces shining from the moonlight all nod at him, he turns and leads the way.  Pacing steadily and feeling the adrenalin purging into his system.  Legs feeling a bit shaky and his hand holding the wooden stave trembles so he brings it across his body and pats it up and down in his spare hand.

Estate survivors stretched out behind him, he turns and ushers them to move up and stay close together.  Rolling his eyes as clubs get dropped and the nails sticking out of bats dig into other people’s legs causing remarks of complaint they move up the street and turn onto the main road that cuts across the front of the compound.

Jeff knows that if this is timed right he will see the other half of the survivors at the junction, if there is a guard positioned there still, then that guard will shout down that there are two large bodies of people coming in from different directions.

Smiling with anticipation, but also feeling scared he wills himself to keep going and lead these idiots.  Once the two sides meet and charge at the fence, he can drop back in the chaos and stay safe somewhere deep in the ranks, or maybe even dart into one of the houses and wait it out to charge out triumphantly later when the nasty fighting has been done.  That little shit Maddox should never have punched him like that.  The little punk gangsta with those hard intelligent eyes, that deep voice and aura of power.  Who the fuck does he think he is?

Eighteen

‘CONTACT!’

The boy and girl on the top of the tower spin round in alarm at the lad leaning out the window on the right and pointing down the side street.  Hearts hammering they lean over desperate to see what’s coming.

‘CONTACT!’ The girl in the window on the left screams out, her high pitched voice sends their stomachs plummeting.  Contact from both side streets at the same time? What’s going on?

‘Oh my fuckin’ god Darryl…’the girl lifts her hand to her mouth and points with a shaking arm down the road ahead of them.  In the dark shadows a solid mass of staggering forms slowly comes into view.  The distance and gloom too great to see the faces, but just from the jerky movements, the almost goosestep walk, the swagger of the upper torso…infected, hundreds of infected.

‘CONTACT ON ALL SIDES,’ Darryl roars into his radio, then realises he hasn’t pressed the button down, his shaking hands fumble and press it down as he repeats the words ‘CONTACT ON ALL SIDES CONTACT ON ALL SIDES…’

‘Fuck this,’ the girl mutters and lifts her rifle, pointing it vaguely in the direction of the army of infected and pulling the trigger.  The loud retort bounces round the buildings.  The first shot.  The first bullet spins through the air and hits nothing but falls gently to the ground far in the distance.

The gunshot sends a signal to all three sides.  This thing is happening now.  The element of surprise is gone.  Charge.  Make noise and charge.

They do.  Jeff with his half.  The other half coming from the opposite direction and the army of infected.  They all roar and they all charge.

Nineteen

‘CONTACT ON ALL SIDES CONTACT ON ALL SIDES,’ the radio clipped to the side of Maddox’s trousers lying in a crumpled heap on the floor bursts to life.  A gunshot rings out.  The unmistakable sound of a rifle shot.  With pure instinct flooding through his body, he rolls from the bed, grabs his trousers and starts dressing with lightning speed.

Lenski’s heart races as she fumbles around finding her clothes and cursing quietly in Polish.

‘EVERYONE TO THE FRONT,’ Maddox speaks calmly firmly into the radio, ‘GET WEAPONS, GET READY AND GET TO THE FRONT, DON’T WAIT FOR ME.’

‘What is it?’ Lenski asks.

‘Don’t know,’ Maddox pulls his boots on and grabs the pistol from the cupboard top.  Pulling the slide back and checking the ammunition clip as he moves quickly towards the door.

‘Get somewhere safe,’ Maddox shouts behind him and runs through the units and out into the humid night air.  Gunshots sounding out from the gate.  Roars and shouts of rage already reaching him as he races towards the gate.

‘WHAT IS IT?’ Maddox shouts at Jagger already on the top of tower and taking shots with his rifle.

‘ALL SIDES MADDOX, THREE GROUPS, INFECTED AND SURVIVORS….FUCKING CHAOS….’

‘WHAT THE FUCK?’ Maddox replies in shock.  He grabs the first scaffold bar and pulls himself up the tower with ease.  Reaching the top and staring out.  The hardened man’s mouth drops open in shock at the sight.

The road ahead is thick with infected pressing forward towards the compound.  The road on the right is thick with estate survivors coming towards the compound.  The road on the left is the same; survivors tooled up and charging at the gates.

He takes it all in within a split second.  The left and right have planned a coordinated attack, planning to meet at this time to attack and take the compound.  The infected are charging from the road opposite, also intent on taking the compound.  They don’t know about each other.  The two groups of survivors are screaming as they charge.  Weapons held high as they sprint.  Looks of confusion as they see the third group emerging from the central road.  Who are they? Has Jeff got another group with us? Nope, they’re infected.

Maddox watches with horror as the three armies commit themselves.  The ones at the front couldn’t stop if they wanted due to the momentum of the people behind them.

The last few seconds seem to slow as everyone realises what’s about to happen.  Even the zombies look confused for a second.  They emerge into the open junction keeping the shape of the road they came from.  Then, seeing the two groups of humans on both sides they do a literal double take.  A zombie in the lead wearing a white shirt, tie and name badge shakes his head in confusion, then smiles.  The smile spreads into a grin as he howls.  The howls are taken up by every other infected.

The three sides meet in a devastating clash of utter terror.  The estate survivors at the back, having no idea of the army of infected, and hearing the start of the battle, and being desperate to join in, all push forward and force the centre to become bogged with scrapping bodies.  The rear columns of zombies, all hearing the battle, and all needing to feast, push forward and drive their undead  bodies into the melee.

Maddox shakes his head slowly; he raises his pistol to fire then slowly lowers it again.  He cocks his head to one side, lifting the pistol again and sweeping it over the battling masses below him.

‘Who we shooting?’ Jagger asks him.  Maddox turns to see the entire camp stretched out behind him.  Bodies leaning out of windows of the houses and staring into the muddle massed battle.  The cries of rage, terror, hurt, pain and glory ripping the air apart mere feet from them.

‘FUCK THIS…SHOOT EVERYTHING,’ Maddox roars out and opens fire with his pistol.  Guns blaze out from all sides, behind the gates shooting through the gaps, muzzles flash and rounds pour into the mass of bodies.

‘SHOOT EVERYTHING,’ Maddox screams again, his eyes ablaze.

Twenty

‘Yeah but I really didn’t expect there to be no vehicles anywhere,’ I reply wiping the sweat from my face and sighing.

‘This is a council estate,’ Lani continues, ‘they would have used them all to get away, or stolen them, or burnt them out.’

‘Yeah I guess,’ I glance about at the rundown houses on either side.  We’ve spent the last half hour stalking through street after street searching for a vehicle, heading further into the estate.  The long straight roads, the potted road surface, houses with peeling facades and windows grimy long before the outbreak started.

We freeze and drop down, raising weapons to our shoulders at the signal from Dave, freezing on the spot and holding one arm up with a clenched fist.  To their credit, Lani and Tom respond just as quickly as the rest of us, having been given instruction by Clarence while on the navy supply ship.

Dave opens his fist then closes it again, repeating it several times and waving forward.  Multiple contacts ahead.  Dave glances round and I shake my head at him.

‘Can’t hear anything mate,’ I whisper across, Dave glances across the line at the rest all shaking their heads.

‘Something happening…’Dave cocks his head, ‘not sure what though.’

‘Keep going,’ I whisper back and we start off, moving stealthily behind Dave, weapons at the ready, fingers extended over trigger guards.

Dave reaches the junction at the end of the road before us and instantly drops down to a crouch, lifting his rifle to his shoulder and aiming down to the right.

‘Scatter,’ I whisper.  We crab across the road into the deep shadows on the sides and watch Dave as he stares down along the wider main road on his right.  Dave lifts his hand and motions for me to come forward.  I step out, keeping low and creep over towards him.  As I gain the junction Dave motions down the road and I peer down to see the solid ranks of undead staggering away from us.  Stretched fully across the road and taking every available inch, crammed and densely packed they rush forward clearly intent on getting to something ahead of them.

I can smell them now, the stench of death.  Decomposition, decay, rotten flesh from the hundreds of walking stiffs that must have staggered past this junction just minutes before.  I motion for the others to move up and wait while they shuffle forward and gather round us, all staring down at the backs of the undead down the road to the right.

A single gunshot rings out, followed immediately by the distinct sound of undead howling with an attack.  More voices.  Human voices that roar out and mingle with the undead roars.  Screams and shouts.  We look down the road and at each other, wondering what the hell we’ve bumbled into this time.

The howls and screams bounce and echo of the buildings, the sound funnelling down the streets and coming at us from many directions.  A single loud voice bellows out.  A deep male voice then shots, many shots.

‘Rifles,’ Clarence mutters.

‘…and shotguns,’ Dave adds his head still cocked over and listening intently.

‘That lot are going at someone,’ Blowers says.

‘They are,’ I reply staring at the back of the massed horde, ‘the dirty fuckers are attacking someone.’ My voice comes out in a low growl as I feel the anger start to rise.

‘We got an advantage for once,’ Nick says clicking his safety off.

‘Yeah,’ I stand up.  We all stand up.  I copy Nick and flick my safety off and check my belt for the pouches of spare magazines.

‘Are we attacking them?’ Tom asks, we all stare at him, at the glint in his eye, at the desire and hunger we can see within him.  Lani holds it too.  A familiar grimace we’ve all come to know from so many battles together.

‘Yeah,’ I reply, ‘we are, spread out and form a line.  Clarence can you fire that thing on the move?’

‘Yes boss,’ he answers as he hefts the weapon to waist height and holds the ammunition belt with one hand, ready to feed it in.

‘Clarence in the middle then, we hold the line and keep a steady pace.’ I step out and sense the others spreading out in a line.  Like slow motion we stride across the blackened street, hearts beating, mouths dry, eyes staring hard.

This isn’t our fight.  We have no idea what’s going on.  But here there are undead, hundreds of undead and they’re attacking something.  People are firing back at them which means there are humans.  That makes it our business right there.  No one invited us to this fight but we’re here and we’ve slaughtered more of your kind than you will ever know.

You have no idea what’s behind you.  Six outright nasty bastards.  One giant and one truly psychotic killer.  Seven assault rifles and one big fucking machine gun.  Seven men and one girl.  Eight of us.  Eight that stalk you.  Eight that will kill you.

‘Dave?’

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

‘You ready Dave?’

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

‘Let them know we’re here Dave,’ we come to a stop and pause while Dave sucks a deep lungful of air in.  I smile and glance left and right, we’re all smiling.  We know what’s coming.

‘WE ARE HERE TO KILL YOU,’ Dave’s voice penetrates every sound, drowning everything else out.  His bellow simply stops everything in its track…

Twenty-One

‘What the fuck was that?’ Maddox screamed while quickly ejecting the shells from his shotgun and pushing two more in.  The intense close quarter fighting has spilled across the junction as zombies and survivors fight, bite and die with utter savageness.  The bodies smash into the gates as undead attack the fences and survivors frantically plead to open up and save them.  As survivors get bit they drop, then come back a few minutes later.

Maddox and his youths pour fire into them, but for every kill they get, be it human or infected, more pour in.  The gates weaken and rattle with each blow as more heavy bodies slam into them.  Rifles and shotguns fire, expending ammunition and Maddox knows that within a few minutes they will be out of shells and bullets.  Just as he was about to give the order to pull back and try and get over the walls at the back of the compound a voice bellows out.  The power and energy from it instantly ceases all action, everything stops, freezes.

‘WE ARE HERE TO KILL YOU…HOWIE IS UPON YOU AND HE BRINGS DEATH…TURN AND FACE US…TURN AND SEE THE FACE OF HOWIE…’

‘Who the fuck is Howie?’ Jagger whispers quietly.

‘I don’t know, but I hope he’s got a big fuckin’ gun,’ Maddox replies.

Twenty-Two

‘WE ARE HERE TO KILL YOU…HOWIE IS UPON YOU AND HE BRINGS DEATH…TURN AND FACE US…TURN AND SEE THE FACE OF HOWIE…’

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.  My breathing becomes faster and my heart beats faster.  The wonder drug of adrenalin floods my system.  I will talk to Dave later about his choice of taunting words but for now…for now there is us and you.

They turn quickly as Dave’s voice staggers everything in sight and hearing.  The challenge given, the gauntlet laid.  We hold our thin measly line.  Fingers pressing lightly on triggers as we face down another army of undead.  They start to stagger, faster, quicker, charging.  They roar and howl at the sight of the bodies standing calmly and waiting for them.  I hold for another few seconds, just long enough to let them get a few feet away from whatever they’re attacking.

‘Down,’ I shout and as one we drop down to the crouch, magazines get placed quickly on the ground in front of us.  They charge.  They run now.  Gathering speed.

‘HAVE IT,’ my voice roars out and is cut off as seven assault rifles spew lead at them.  Fingers squeeze triggers, muzzles flash, rounds spin and zombies die.  They fall and die as we fire into their ranks.

Clarence pauses for a second as we empty our first magazines.  The timing is perfect and almost as one we shout ‘MAGAZINE’ as we eject the empty one and snatch a new one up.  A quick memory of the battle of Salisbury Plain flashes through my mind.

‘MY TURN,’ Clarence stands and roars letting rip with the GPMG held one handed and firing into the zombies.  We pause and stare in awe as the huge man absorbs the recoil into his massive frame and laughs with maniacal delight.  One hand held out to the side feeding the coil of ammunition belt into the side of the machine gun.  He takes steady sweeps side to side and nothing survives the sheer fire power of the devastating weapon.  Bodies burst apart, limbs sheered off, stomachs ripped out, skulls explode as they fall.

‘FIRE,’ I scream out as Clarence stops, and the small arms fire of the SA80 assault rifles take up the work.  They are nowhere near as powerful as the GPMG but there are seven of them firing at once and that more than makes up the difference.

‘ADVANCE,’ I shout as we change magazines and Clarence fires for a few seconds taking big strides forwards and sweeping the weapon left to right.

There are hundreds and hundreds of them and they keep coming.  Turning and charging and I had no idea how deeply packed they were or how far down the street they were stretched.  They die in droves, sent back to the hell they crawled out from.  Glancing over at Lani I see her face alive with the glory of battle, the grime from the weapon smearing her face and at this time, at this place I realise I’m in love.  As if touched by an invisible hand she glances at me and smiles, a gorgeous big grin full of white teeth.

Once again, there is nowhere else I would rather be right now.

Twenty-Three

‘GET DOWN AND BRACE THE GATES,’ Maddox screams out, ordering his youths to lie down on the ground.  The experience of knowing that bullets can fly for miles, especially when they’re fired from assault rifles and heavy machine guns.  With no idea who the new group of attackers are, but with a suspicion that maybe they’re not here to attack the compound too, Maddox stares down at the junction in front of the gates and the terrific battle still being waged.

More bodies slam into the gates and he looks down to see his youths stacked up against the inside, holding low but pushing their bodies against them.

The two groups from the side roads still pour into the middle, roaring and screaming as they fight to join the battle, having no idea of the slaughter taking place just yards in front of them.  The undead easily over power the survivors, tearing them apart with a frenzied and sustained attack.  Biting and ripping flesh open, transmitting the deadly infection into the blood stream and launching off to take more down.  The zombies fight and claw their way into the ranks of the survivors, the darkness of the night and the confusion of the battle masking their routes.  Legs, arms, stomachs and arses get bit.  Survivors fall and die, writhing in agony for seconds before dying.  Inside their bodies the infection pours through every cell and brings them back, re-starting the heart and bringing the host back in the new perfect form.  The survivors twitch and sit up, opening red bloodshot eyes and howling out as they launch and surge into the ranks of humans.

The firing continues.  Small arms from machine guns then a heavy machine gun for a few seconds.  Maddox strains his eyes and can just make out the muzzle flashes in the distance of the road ahead.

‘Darius get the weapons up into the windows and fire down, keep firing everything we got.  Jagger, get everyone else tooled up with hand weapons, anything they want.’

Maddox turns back to the front, watching the battle and knowing the estate survivors are fucked.  They don’t stand a chance.  The infected are too fast and too powerful for them.  Watching between the distant muzzle flashes and the battle underneath him he senses that instead of running away they may need to fight.  If they run now, they’ll always be running.

‘Sometimes Maddox, sometimes you can run away, retreat or withdraw and survive to fight another day.  Every once in a while though son, you have to man up and stand your ground.  Stand and fight son.  Whatever the outcome, whatever the cost.  Let them know your name and what you stand for.  Be beholden to no man.  Stand and fight son.’

The Bossman’s words sound through his mind, the great and powerful lord brought down by smoking a plant.  But he was right and this is that time.

Twenty-Four

‘MAGAZINE,’ I shout and eject the old one, quickly pushing it into the pouch on my belt and slamming a new one in.  We’ve advanced enough to be reaching the first bodies felled by our bullets.  But still they come and still we mow them down.  Holding at times, then advancing a couple of steps but all the time taking ground and despatching these foul things back to hell.

Lucky bastards is what we are.  Finding such a big horde to play with.  And at the point of being tooled up to high heaven too.  New guns with lots and lots of shiny bullets to throw at them.  Clarence is clearly having a great time doing his whole Rambo thing, I’m going to get him a bandana for his bald head and smear some black lines across his nose.

Our incessant fire rate whittles them down and the bodies pile up.  As with many times before I notice the bodies act as trip hazards and obstacles to the oncoming zombies and a couple of times I smile at the sight of the stupid things tripping and falling over.

‘HOLD,’ Dave shouts out and we drop down while he works to clear a blockage in his weapon.  Clarence lays down flat and uses the front tripod to steady the weapon as he fires into the pressed ranks.  The obliteration is immense and before long we’ve got a nice big gap in front of us.

‘CLEARED,’ Dave shouts and we rise up to advance again, marking our steps and holding the line.  I notice some of our lads have switched to single shots and are going for head shots, calling out when they get one.  Dave joins in but again, he gets discounted as every one of his shots is a head shot.  We’re all getting better though and we’re getting more heads now than we we’re before.  Apart from Lani and Tom who are still quite new to the assault rifle experience.

Picking them off one by one and letting Clarence do a sweep every couple of minutes with the GPMG, we conserve ammunition and make steady progress and before long we looking through the pressed ranks at some kind of high fencing and a scaffold tower erected behind it.  A fortified commune, this must be what the undead were attacking.  From this distance I can just make out a single figure stood on the top of the tower.  I raise my hand and wave, hoping he can see us and be re-assured that we are making headway towards them.

He waves back just as muzzle flashes and shots ring out from the windows of houses behind the fence.  Shotguns and rifles firing down into the junction beneath them.

‘Dave shout for them to hold their fire,’ I shout, worried that they will fire into us if we keep advancing.

‘HOLD YOUR FIRE, LET US WORK OUR WAY TO YOU,’ Dave bellows out and I can vaguely see as the man on the tower waves his arms and after a couple of seconds the shotguns and rifles cease.

‘MOVE UP,’ I shout and we advance, firing into the undead as they still turn and charge at us.  There is a ferocious battle taking place ahead of us but the gates to that commune look closed and secure so who is fighting outside the gates?

‘PEOPLE IN THE MIDDLE,’ Lani shouts, ‘THERE ARE PEOPLE IN THE JUNCTION,’ she adds.  We peer down and look in horror at men and women fighting out with sticks, battling away at the undead and being taken down by the ferocious attacks.

‘We’ll shoot them if we keep firing,’ Blowers shouts.  Then aims and fires into a zombie breaking away to charge at us.

‘Dave, get their attention, tell them to pull back into the side streets.’

‘MOVE BACK, MOVE AWAY FROM THE JUNCTION. WE WILL FIRE ON YOU, MOVE AWAY NOW,’ Dave bellows but despite his enormous voice he has little effect as the fighting is too intense for anyone to try and back away or turn to flee.

‘What now?’ Tom asks in alarm at seeing more people being savaged down.

‘We go in with hand weapons,’ I draw my axe wedged into the gap between my back and my rucksack, then twist the assault rifle round out of the way, ‘form a circle, we stay tight and fight to the gates, maybe draw the zombies away from the other survivors and give them a chance to get away.’

No arguments and they can all see the sense in the planning.  Clarence pushes the heavy machine gun to rest behind him on the long shoulder strap and pulls his axe out.  We form up in a circle with Dave at the front and start advancing down towards the open junction.

Within a few steps we get contacts as the undead see us pushing out into the open ground and start charging.  Axes swing as we cut and strike them down.  Our close phalanx stays tight as we lash out, swiping and lunging.  Lani making neat swipes with her meat cleaver and Dave just killing anything that looks at him the wrong way.

‘This is carnage,’ I shout at the sight of many small fights taking place.  People pressed against the gates lashing out with sticks and bats with nails through the ends.  The two roads leading away to the left and right are packed with bodies fighting and rolling about on the ground.  Too dark and too confusing to see if they are undead or people.

‘OPEN THE GATE,’ I shout up and wave at the man on the top of tower.  He hesitates and sweeps his arm round at the junction, clearly telling me he’s worried about breaching his own entry point.

‘WE’LL KEEP IT SAFE, OPEN THE GATE, THEY WON’T GET IN.’

‘THEY MIGHT,’ the man shouts down in a deep but youthful voice.

‘WHY ARE YOU IN THERE IF YOUR PEOPLE ARE OUT HERE FIGHTING?’

‘THEY AIN’T MY PEOPLE, THEY CAME TO ATTACK US AND TAKE OUR COMPOUND.  THOSE INFECTED CAME AT THE SAME TIME,’ He shouts back.

‘Shit, that was bad timing,’ Cookey jokes to a few sniggers from everyone else.

‘HOW MANY YOU GOT IN THERE?’

Twenty-Five

Maddox stares down at the fighting still raging in the junction and watching the small group of mercenaries stalking down the road slaughtering everything in their path.  He watches as they get close to the junction and then one of them shouts for him to cease fire.

‘STOP SHOOTING.’ Maddox waves his arms and hears his order repeated as the rifles and shotguns suddenly stop.

Incredibly, the mercenaries then push their guns away and take bloody big axes out and get into a small circle before walking out into the junction.  Maddox watches with keen interest, his heart in his mouth as he observes the strange mix of people killing everything that steps close to them.  A small man with two knives at the front, a giant man with a bald head, a Thai girl, some young lads and a bloke with curly dark hair.

‘How the fuck…’ he mutters to himself as the infected seem to drop instantly at the tight little swings and lunges these people lash out.

The man with the curly dark hair shouts up to open the gates.  Maddox refuses, pointing to the fierce fighting still taking place.  He shouts down that these ain’t his people and someone says something funny within the circle as they all snigger.

‘HOW MANY YOU GOT IN THERE?’ the man shouts up.  Maddox hesitates.  If he tells them they are just children it will show them as weak and they are heavily armed with machine guns and assault rifles and they look like soldiers.

‘THEY ARE JUST CHILDREN IN HERE,’ Lenski shouts as she scrambles to the top of the tower to stand next to Maddox.

‘KIDS? JUST KIDS?’ The man with the curly dark hair asks.

‘YEAH JUST KIDS,’ Maddox shouts back as Lenski grips his hand in terror at the sight of the carnage taking place.

‘HOW MANY?’ The man asks.

‘OVER ONE HUNDRED,’ Lenski shouts down in reply and Maddox watches as every face in that circle glances up.  Hard looks on tough faces.

‘STAY THERE AND KEEP THAT GATE CLOSED, WE’LL SORT THIS LOT OUT,’ the man with the curly dark hair shouts.  He says something to the rest of his group and they instantly push their axes and knives away and pull their guns back round.  At another order they split into two lines of four standing back to back.  They raise their weapons to their shoulders.

‘GET DOWN GET DOWN GET DOWN, DROP TO THE GROUND NOW DROP TO THE GROUND NOW.’ The small man roars out and Maddox leans over to see people dropping down and covering their faces.  The small group pauses a few seconds then opens up.  The hammering retorts boom out as the infected get shot to pieces.  The heavy machine gun rips them apart like hot knives through butter and within a few seconds it’s over.

Everything that was standing is now dead.

Twenty-Six

We didn’t hesitate when the woman said it was just kids inside and we knew this had to end now.  Why these adults were attacking a compound was beyond me, but that didn’t manner.  What mattered was ending this.

So we did.

Ruthlessly.

Anything left standing after Dave gave the warning was shot down.  We poured rounds into those things and I have no doubt in my mind that we killed people too.  But the way it was going they would have been bitten and turned anyway, so they had it coming.  There were so many undead in amongst them we could never have ended it cleanly.  This wasn’t our fight and maybe we had no right to get involved.  But I know if I was behind a high fence with over a hundred children I’d want someone to come and kill the nasty monsters for me.

As the smoke cleared we ejected our emptied magazines and quickly pushed new ones home.  Clicks and metallic noises filled the air.  Clarence threaded his last coil of ammunition belt into the GPMG as we stepped out drawing our axes and started moving between the corpses, using our torches to seek out the still living zombies.  Their groaning and shuffling noises made them easy to find and we stalked through the bodies chopping heads off and cutting throats open.

‘Mr Howie,’ Nick calls my attention and points to the gate opening up.  All of us turn and stand ready as a well-built young man walks out.  He looks round at the bodies and then straight at me.  Walking steadily with a pistol in his hand down at his side.  A young woman steps out behind him and walks forward.  More young people gather in the gap created by the open gate but they hold there.

‘Hey, you the man from the tower?’ I call out.

‘Yeah,’ he replies, his voice low and deep.  His tone as wary as his movements which are fluid and powerful but aloof and ready for action.

‘I’m Howie, nice to meet you?’ I step towards him and hold my hand out.  He pauses looking me up and down, then across at the rest of my group.  A decision made and he steps in closer, extending his hand to shake.

‘Maddox,’ he nods and up close I see how young he is, maybe eighteen or nineteen at the most but his eyes are deeply intelligent and his grip has power.

‘This is Lenski,’ he nods behind him at the very attractive young lady stepping carefully over the bodies, she stops next to Maddox and I extend my hand to her.

‘Lenski, I’m Howie these people are with me. We mean you no harm, we are not a threat to you, we’re just passing through.’ I want to re-assure them quickly knowing that with over a hundred terrified children inside they must be deeply worried.

‘It good to meet you Howie,’ she replies with in a clipped Polish accent.

‘So are you the only adults here?’ I ask.

‘Kind of,’ Maddox replies and I can see he’s still very wary.

‘Listen mate, we’re going to sort these out and make sure they’re all dead.  There might be some injured people out here.  Have you got a first aid station or medical bay here?’

‘No,’ he replies simply.

‘Okay, have you got bandages and clean water, something we can use to patch them up, maybe some lights?’

‘We have these, I get them and make the lights ready,’ Lenski says with a pointed look at Maddox.

‘I’ll get some of my lot out here to help clear this up,’ Maddox says.  He turns back to the open gate. ‘Jagger, take the left side, Mohammed take the right, Sierra and Liam I want your crews down the main road ahead.  Ryland get into the units and get some lights out here bruv, Skyla find Lenski and get water and bandages up here into the street.’

‘Bloody hell,’ Cookey exclaims at seeing groups of youths pour from the gates.  Young kids armed to the teeth with knives and sharp sticks, bats, swords and poles.  A few bigger kids direct them with short words of order and they move about in sections. Dropping down and shoeing bodies over, slitting throats, clubbing heads and bursting skulls apart.  They rifle pockets and loot the bodies, searching for anything usable.

We all stand shocked and stunned, unable to take our eyes off these children doing the bloody work of killers.  The fact that they’re ordered really stands out.  They smile and joke with each other and the banter remind me of how we are when we operate and move together.  And I notice they keep staring and glancing at us, but the faces become hard and unsmiling when they look at us.  Not scared, not terrified little children but the same wary aloofness that Maddox had.

‘What the fuck…’ Nick mutters.

‘This is one strange day,’ Lani adds in the same muted tone.  A proud looking girl leads a group of children across the junction heading into the shadows of the street opposite, one of the smaller children stares in awe at Clarence as he passes by.

‘You is hench bruv,’ the child says in a strong confident tone and turns away as the others start sniggering and pointing at Clarence.

‘Did we just save a bunch of gangsta kids from a nice group of survivors being eaten by a horde of zombies?’ Cookey asks.

‘Possibly…’ I reply quietly, not quite believing what my eyes are showing me.  Within minutes there are injured bodies being dragged past us through the open gates and dumped on the street beyond.  The children dragging them race back out and grab more injured people.  The youths on the street inside the gates examine each body closely with torches, checking for bite wounds.  Any that are suspicious are killed instantly and without any sign of mercy or pity.

Generators get carried into the street, then lighting units plugged in and glowing bright as soon as the generators are started.  The street floods with light and I see Lenski and other girls carrying bottles of water and dumping them down onto the road, boxes filled with sealed bandages get brought up along with boxes of disposable gloves.

‘Howie,’ Maddox walks back out the gates straight towards me, ‘my crews will sort this out from here, we’ll get the injured cared for.’

‘Er…that’s good mate, what’s in your compound?’

‘How do I answer that?’ Maddox replies bluntly.

‘What? I mean what is in there that these people wanted so badly? They launched an attack at a base full of children? Why Maddox?’

‘We didn’t ask for your help Howie,’ he replies with a defiant stare.

‘Maddox mate, we’re not here to take anything from you.  We got a place down the coast from here; we got food, medicines and safety.  Now why were these people attacking you?’

‘Who are you bruv?’ Maddox flares up with an angry tone his voice making the other seven members of my group take a step towards him, the response was a hundred or so children, tooled up and looking mean, gathering quickly and quietly all around us.  Looking round I saw my group sliding their axes away and slowly pulling assault rifles round.

‘Stand easy,’ I wave them down, ‘we are not shooting children, Dave listen to me we are not shooting children got it?’

‘Yes Mr Howie,’ he answers quickly as I know he won’t hesitate if he thinks the group is threatened.  He’d drown kittens if he felt any of us were at risk.

‘Maddox, I asked you a simple and open question.  We are not a threat to you, and we do not need anything from you but after what we just did I feel we are owed an explanation as to why these adults were attacking a compound full of children.’

‘We didn’t ask your help, go home, this is our place,’ he stands full on and stares hard.

‘Don’t tell me to go home mate,’ I can feel the first bite of anger rising up, ‘I’m not after your place or anything that’s inside it.  I want to know why they were attacking you? What do you have that they need?’

‘You get me bruv? This is our place, who are you to come here and demand answers, you ain’t nuffin’. Yeah thanks for the help but we got this now.’

‘Do not fucking dismiss me like I’m some idiot,’ my voice to rises in volume and I start walking towards him, ‘what did you do to make them come at you like this?’

‘Who the fuck are you to question us? You passing through? So pass through, go home and leave us,’ he walks towards me a few steps, showing me his open hands.

‘Why are they attacking you Maddox? What did you do to them?’

‘Don’t question me bruv, go home.’

‘You will answer my fucking question or I will tear this place apart with my bare hands, what did you do to them? Did you rob them? Did you take their food and supplies? Answer me!’

‘I answer to no one,’ he bellows back, ‘this is my place and I make the rules here, you ain’t no one.’

‘I want to know why we just fired on people, not just those things but people.  You got kids here so why are these people attacking you?’

‘We didn’t ask for your help,’ he roars back at me, spittle flying from his mouth.

‘But we gave it thinking you have scared kids in here, you took these peoples things didn’t you? You took their food and supplies didn’t you?’

‘Get fucked,’ he sneers, ‘this conversation is over, go about your business.’ He turns to walk away and the fury erupts from me as I stride towards him.  He spins round pulling a pistol from his belt.  Instinctively I grab mine and lift it up as I side step out.  Two men holding pistols at each other from a few feet away.   Assault rifles get cocked behind me, voices call out.  The distinctive sound of rifle bolts being racked back.  A cacophony of sound as everyone gears up for a fight.

‘Stand down Maddox,’ I growl at him.

‘You stand down,’ he growls back.

‘No, stop this,’ Lenski screams from behind Maddox.

‘Boss, this isn’t our fight,’ Clarence shouts, ‘these are just kids boss.’ I get the pleading tone in his voice and I glance round to see him holding the heavy machine gun pointing at masses of children.  Rifles and shotguns are pointed at my group, kids with knives and bats all converging and creeping in.

‘Howie, we need to go,’ Lani shouts with alarm in her voice.  Maddox and I face off with our pistols pointing at each other.  If I drop my aim he’ll shoot me and then everyone will open up and then everyone will be dead.

‘Maddox listen to me…’

‘No you listen, this is our place and you don’t come here in our back yard making demands.  You ain’t the feds bruv, we got this place now.’

‘We don’t want your fucking place Maddox…’

‘Then go!’

‘Okay, take it easy…we’ll go…everyone listen up, we are going so nobody shoot,’ I shout to make everyone hear me, backing away but keeping the pistol raised, honestly believing that if I lower it he’ll go for a shot.  The prize of our weapons for his compound would be too tempting.

‘Yeah you go,’ Maddox stalks after me, ‘keep going and don’t come back here.’

‘This doesn’t have to be this way Maddox, we got a community too, few miles down the coast at Fort Spitbank, we got food, doctors, medicines, safety and order, you don’t have to live like this.’

‘Like what?’ he smiles, ‘you see us struggling bruv? We got food, medicines and safety right here.’

‘You can’t kill other survivors for food Maddox, there’s no way back from that mate.  Look at what you did here, these people attacked a secure compound full of children for fucks sake, the only reason they did that was because of what you did to them.’

‘You don’t know this,’ he shouts, ‘these people are vermin, they want to take the food from children, they is greedy.’

Backing away I reach my group and we start walking back down the road we came from, all of us pointing our weapons at the children as they stalk after us.  Some of them smiling and laughing like it’s a game, goading each other and shouting insults.

‘Maddox, we are leaving, call your people off.’

‘Just keep going bruv; don’t tell me what to do.’

‘Maddox, listen to Howie, back off and stand down son, your kids are itching to start and we’ve got bloody big guns here son, don’t risk it,’ Clarence shouts, his deep voice carrying clearly down the road.

‘Maddox let them go now,’ Lenski pushes through the crowd of kids and reaches out to pull Maddox back, his arm still extended with the pistol pointing at me.  Surprisingly he stops and allows the girl to pull him back.  She looks angry and scared.

‘Lenski, we’re going,’ I shout over to her, ‘we’re at Fort Spitbank, remember that…Fort Spitbank, we’ve got doctors and safety.  We can take people in.’

‘I remember this,’ she shouts back, ‘you go and I remember this.’

‘Lenski, we need a vehicle,’ Clarence shouts.

‘A what?’

‘Car, we need a car or a van, anything.’

‘I not know this,’ she implores then turns to whisper fiercely at Maddox.  A heated exchange of words takes place but watching Maddox I can see he is clearly listening to her.

‘Maddox, do the right thing mate, we’ll be gone quicker with a vehicle.’

‘Behind the shops two roads over, there’s a dog shit bin there, the keys are in the bin, you got twenty minutes to go.  You still here after that we comin’ for you, you get me?’

‘Take it easy Maddox, we’re going mate, no one needs to get hurt now,’ I shout back.

‘You’s the ones getting’ fucked up innit, swear down we’ll fuck you up,’ another youth shouts over, more join in, catcalls, whistles and goading.  These kids are fearless and it makes us back away quickly.  Taking care not to trip over the bodies of the undead we felled just a short time earlier.

A few minutes later and we’re walking steadily along in our group, weapons still at the ready but the youths now long gone.

‘What the fuck was that?’ Clarence says quietly.

‘Different rules I guess, fucking hell, did you see them kids? Tooled up and just itching for a scrap?’ I reply with a shake of my head.

We move in silence after that.  All of shocked at the turn of events.  We saw a horde of undead attacking something and charged in, but the boundaries have been blurred.  Feral kids killing people and taking their stuff.  Now those people are dead and those kids are secure within a gated commune.  We all know we just played a part in helping the bad guys win.  But then they’re still just kids.

‘Shit this is confusing,’ I sigh, ‘I don’t know if we did a bad thing or a good thing.’

‘We killed lots of those things, that’s a good thing,’ Dave says flatly.

‘But did we just give more power to little gangsta shits that are already fucking everyone over?’ Cookey asks seriously.

Dave stares ahead then seem to realise that Cookey was asking him the question. ‘I don’t know Alex,’ Dave says, ‘we saw the zombies and we killed them.  That’s it.  The rest is just people being people.  We can’t be everywhere and make everyone have the same values as us.’

‘Good words Dave,’ I add with respect, ‘now let’s get the fuck out of here and quickly before those shits change their mind and decide they want our guns.’

Twenty-Seven

‘What in your head?’ Lenski says with worry lines etched onto her face.  Maddox stares into the dark road.  Every member of the compound gathered behind him as he searches the shadows for any sign of them.  A contrary feeling rises in his soul; that everything was going right, he was on the right track.  They saved the compound so why didn’t he show gratitude, why didn’t he back down and welcome them.  Show them what they were planning and what ideas he had.  They said they had another commune with doctors and food and that meant stability.  They had proper weapons and moved like a unit too.  He could have joined forces with them, traded supplies for weapons.

But that attitude.  That instant assumption that they were feral little gangsta chav shits running riot and killing everyone.  That had been true but it wasn’t now.  Maddox felt conflicted and a sense of shame.  But more than anything he knew this had ended badly.  If they were good people then they would come back under the misguided banner of trying to save the kids, or trying to save the people on the estate.

If they weren’t good people they would see that the compound held food and supplies.  Either way.  They’ll come back.

That righteous attitude, demanding answers, white men with guns trying to throw their weight around and be the new law and order.  Those days were gone.  Maddox was going to change the way they did things, and it wasn’t his fault the survivors decided to attack tonight.   This was new times, new rules.

‘Maddox, I ask what in your head?’ Lenski asked again.  He turned to look at her, seeing the fear and confusion in her face.  He knew what needed to be done.  Whatever it cost to survive.  New times.  New rules.

‘Darius, take three crews and go left, go after them…Jagger you take three more and go right, Mohammed you go straight and keep behind them.  Liam, you stay and hold the base secure.  We go after them.  I want them weapons.  Take them at the shops where all the roads meet,’ Maddox barked the orders out, hardly believing he was doing this.  But the way that man shouted at him, the sneer on his face and the anger in his eyes.  He wouldn’t forget and he would come back with more men.  This had to end here.

‘No Maddox, this wrong, you not do this…’ Lenski grabbed his arm begging him to stop the youths as they instantly split and went off different directions.  Melting into the shadows and racing after the armed group.

‘Go back to the compound and wait there,’ Maddox pulled his arm free.

‘No, they help you, they save us Maddox, why you do this? They have safe place with doctors and medicine.  We should work with them not fight.’

‘They’ll come back and try to take this Lenski; they’ll see these kids as a threat and try to end what we have.  They’ll tell people we’re here and others will come.  The compound with a hundred children.  Every survivor with a gun will try and get in.  We got to stop that.

‘This wrong, these men they try to help you, they help us Maddox…’

‘Go back Lenski,’ Maddox pulled free and jogged after Mohammed and his crew moving quickly down the road.  Lenski fell to her knees, hands clutching her face.  Tears rolling down her cheeks as the sobs wracked her body.  They were so close, so close to doing it properly.  Good people came to help them.  She knew the way Maddox and the others viewed outsiders and any form of authority.  But these were good people, she could tell by the way they worked together; they were clean and healthy with good clothes and good weapons.  They had a safe place with doctors.  These children needed that kind of help.  What happens when one of them breaks a leg, gets the measles, cuts themselves on a rusty nail? Those things meant death without medicine and trained people.

Everything they worked for, everything they planned was going…unless she did something, persuaded Maddox to listen, made him listen.  Got that man Howie to listen…she had to try.  Rubbing the tears from her face she gets to her feet and starts moving off.

‘Lenski, Maddox said you had to go back,’ Liam quickly called out, watching her from a few feet away and feeling confused and worried at seeing her cry.

‘Liam, go to the compound now!’ Lenski turned and shouted.  Her harsh tone stopped him in his tracks as she fled into the dark shadows.

Twenty-Eight

‘Shops,’ Dave pointed ahead to a collection of commercial buildings set into the side of the road next to a large junction.

‘Bout bloody time,’ Cookey muttered.  We ran forward using the moonlight to pick our route.  Reaching the shops we hunted round and found a small service road running behind them.  Taking the road we jogged to the back of the shops and a long line of cars and vans parked up tight behind the shops.

‘Look at that,’ Blowers said shining his torch on the wall at the spray painted letters.  BOSSMAN VEHICLES TOUCH AND DIE.

‘Nice,’ Nick shook his head.

‘I thought you couldn’t read,’ Cookey asked innocently.

‘I can’t read very well but I can read that,’ Nick replied without any offence.

‘Dog shit bin is here,’ Blowers said from across the road, shining his light on the distinctive red plastic refuse bin.  He lifted the lid gingerly, clearing expecting to find the thing full of shit.  Someone had taped the keys to the underside of the lid, all of them hanging down.

‘Bloody hell, these kids have got some influence leaving them here with the keys right there,’ Blowers said.

‘We need a van,’ I called out scanning the vehicles, ‘there’s a few here press the clickers and see which one lights up.’

‘On it,’ Blowers reached his hand in and started pushing the raised nodules.  Indicators flashed with clunking noises as cars were unlocked.

‘That one,’ Lani shouts as a white van clunks open with the orange lights flashing.

‘Get in, I’ll drive,’ I call out as Lani and Tom start pulling the side and rear doors open.  Running over I clamber into the driver’s seat as Blowers passes me the keys.

‘CONTACT,’ Dave roars.  A shot rings out.  A rifle shot from somewhere at the front of the shops, immediately followed by shotgun blasts and more rifles.  The windows of the vehicles start exploding as I ram the ignition key in and twist it round.  The van lurches forward, slamming into the vehicle in front.

‘Fuck it was in gear, sorry,’ I say through gritted teeth and turn the key back round then press the clutch down as I start it again.  The van ticks over for a few seconds then fires up with the noisy diesel engine sputtering into the night.

‘Dave get in,’ I shout through the open door watching as he runs down the service road and dives into the open rear doors. ‘Are we all in?’

‘Yes go!’ Blowers and Clarence both shot.  I select reverse and slam the van backwards, impacting into the vehicle behind.  Twisting the wheel over hard I start to ease forward as more shots rings out and the windscreen implodes, showering me in glass fragments.  Leaning over to the side I press the pedal down and scrape the van out from its position.

Shots impact into the side of the van as I drive down the service road and I feel a wheel blowing out causing the van to tilt down and veer off to the side.  Fighting to control the vehicle I navigate the corner and glance up to look out the hole where the windscreen was.  My heart sinks at the sight of youths spread all over the place.  Missiles start thudding against the vehicle as rocks, stones and bricks get launched at us.

‘They’re fucking everywhere,’ I scream out.

‘Keep going,’ Dave shouts back, then his head appears between the seats, assault rifle in hand. He glances up and quickly scans the route ahead.

‘Go faster Mr Howie,’ he urges.

‘I can’t mate, wheels blown out, this is top speed,’ my foot is pressed down and the van is roaring with power but the rubber must have been shredded from the wheel, causing the drum to spin and gouge into the tarmac.  We’re going no faster than walking pace.

‘Get ready, we’ll have to fight our way out,’ Dave shouts at the figures lying in the back of the van.

‘I’m not shooting kids,’ Clarence shouts.

‘Clarence, they are going to kill us,’ Dave shouts.

‘I can’t shoot kids,’ he replies.

‘I can,’ Dave says bluntly, I look down and lock eyes with the small quiet men.  An absolute killer stares back at me.  A monster.  But he’s our monster.

‘They’re not negotiating Clarence, they’re fucking shooting at us,’ Blowers shouts.

‘I can’t do it,’ he roars, ‘I won’t do it; I’ll fucking die before I shoot a child.  I’m a fucking soldier not a murderer and so are you, this isn’t our way.’

Shots ping into the sides of the van, fewer now but more missiles get thrown as loud thunks bang of the metal sides.

‘Then suggest something,’ I plead with him.

‘Let me fire,’ Dave growls.

‘NO!’ Clarence roars, ‘If you fire on those kids I’ll fucking shoot you Dave.’

‘What then?’ I scream in desperation.

‘We give up and give them what they want, surrender,’ Clarence spits the last word out.

‘NEVER,’ Dave roars.

‘Dave we are not shooting children, we give up and let them have the weapons.’

‘They’ll kill us,’ he shouts in reply, ‘they’ll kill the lads and Mr Howie.  Clarence this isn’t the army, this is different times.  Mr Howie has to survive.’

‘Why? Why me?’

‘Because,’ Dave roars and I swear the van shakes from the emotion in his voice.

‘Because what?’ I shout back.

‘Clarence you do this and I swear I’ll fucking kill ‘em all,’ Dave roars.

‘Dave, this isn’t the way mate,’ Clarence shouts back, his tone softer now, ‘we are not child killers, we don’t do that.’

‘Dave, please listen to him,’ Lani shouts, ‘we can’t kill them.’

‘They are fucking shooting at us,’ Cookey shouts.

‘Mr Howie, you’re the boss…’ Blowers cuts everyone else down, ‘what you say goes, if you say we fight then we fight, if you say surrender than we do that without argument.’

‘Dave?’ Clarence prompts him, ‘do you hear that? Howie is boss here, what he says goes.’

‘I will not let them kill him that will not happen.’

‘It’s my choice Dave…You abide my order you hear me?’

‘Mr Howie,’ he growls in reply.

‘Dave! You abide my order DO YOU HEAR ME?’

‘Yes Mr Howie,’ he barks.

‘We surrender, you shout that now, you shout it loud Dave and make them hear.’

He pauses, our eyes locked and then he draws breath and bellows out, ‘CEASE FIRING! WE SURRENDER, CEASE FIRING, WE SURRENDER…’

Shouts from outside and gradually the shots and thumps end as the word is spread.  I ease my foot of the pedal and the van instantly stops and cuts out.  The only sounds are the engine cooling down with light clicks and clunks.

‘Mr Howie, I’ll charge and distract them, you run and get away,’ Dave pleads with me, his eyes wide and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen fear in his face.

‘No Dave,’ I smile back, ‘Clarence is right, we don’t kill kids.’

‘I won’t kill them I promise…I’ll fight with my hands and I promise I won’t kill any…’

‘Dave they’ll tear you apart, there’s over a hundred of them.’

‘That’s fine with me Mr Howie, but you got to get away, you have to survive,’ his eyes beg me, his tone soft and pleading.

‘I’ll fight with him Mr Howie,’ Blowers adds.

‘Me too,’ Cookey says.

‘And me,’ Nick says softly.

‘What? What the fuck has got into you? We do this together; I’m not running and leaving you to die.’

‘This isn’t your day to die Mr Howie,’ Dave continues, ‘you must survive and…and…’

‘And what Dave? Blowers what is this?’

‘You have to live Mr Howie,’ Blowers says matter of fact, ‘you lead and others follow.  We wouldn’t have that fort without you; we wouldn’t have survived without you.  It’s not us Mr Howie, it’s you.  Others will follow you and you can lead them….you have to survive.’

‘Fuck off,’ I spit the words out in shock.

‘Boss, you do one and get away, we’ve got this,’ Clarence adds.

‘Not you too Clarence, you just you wouldn’t kill kids.’

‘I won’t kill‘ em but I can fucking batter them about for a bit.’

‘You’re all nuts, no…no…not happening…we stay together.’

‘If they go for you I swear I’ll end them,’ Dave curses.

‘No you won’t Dave, you promised me and that means something.’

‘COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP,’ Maddox’s voice screams out.

‘COMING…DO NOT SHOOT,’ I shout back, ‘DO NOT SHOOT WE WILL NOT FIRE ON YOU.’

‘Boss, take the chance and go,’ Clarence urges.

‘Don’t ask me that again, any of you, not ever do you hear me? Do you hear me?’ I get murmurs of reply and look back to see Lani staring at me with an intense expression.  Suddenly, the thought of them hurting her bites me inside. I want to ask her to go, to run away like they said I should but I know what the response will be.

‘Come on, weapons down,’ I shrug my pistol from my belt and lay it on the seat and push the door open slowly before clambering out with my hands held high.

‘WE ARE NOT ARMED…’ I shout clearly and walk slowly round to the side door, pulling it back and watching as my group files out one at a time, hands held high.

‘Dave, did you leave your knives?’ I ask him quietly.

‘Yes,’ he answers sulkily.

‘All of them?’

‘I’ve got one,’ he answers instantly, ‘small one in my boot.’

‘Okay, keep that one then.’ I only say it for fear of him suddenly reaching down to his boot and causing a reaction from the youths.

Maddox strides forward, the pistol held high and pointing at us.  Youths gather behind him, pointing rifles and shotguns in our direction.  We stay quiet as they converge, coming in close and surrounding us.

‘You will shoot each other,’ Clarence says.

‘What?’ Maddox snaps the pistol round to point it up at the big man.

‘You’ve got guns surrounding us, if you all fire you will shoot each other, you need one line in front and none behind.’

‘What the fuck?’ Maddox looks confused.

‘He’s right,’ Dave adds, ‘arcs of fire, basic skills.’

‘Move to the front,’ Maddox gives the order and waits while everyone shuffles round.

‘Shit, look at this bitch,’ a stocky lad pulls the heavy machine gun from the van, holding it in both hands while the youths stare in awe.

‘Be careful son, the safety might not be on, please check it.’ Clarence rumbles.

‘Why you doing this?’ Maddox suddenly demands.

‘Doing what?’ I ask him, knowing full well what he means.

‘Why you giving up bruv? You got guns, you got weapons and skills, you could fight.’

‘We don’t kill children,’ Clarence replies for me, ‘that’s not our way son.’

‘Stop calling me son,’ Maddox shouts.

‘I’m old and you are young, it’s a natural thing for me to say.  I don’t shout when you call me bruv do I?’

‘We would have killed you; I told them to kill you…’ He says with anger still in his voice.

‘So kill us,’ I reply, ‘we’re here without weapons, you got the guns, go ahead.’

‘This ain’t some movie,’ Maddox says through gritted teeth, ‘ain’t no smart speech gonna save you now.  Get down on your knees all of you.’

‘No,’ I reply with a dull tone.

‘Get down,’ he shouts and waves the pistol an inch from my face.

‘No, we won’t kill children so we surrendered but not one of us will beg or kneel in front of you.’

‘That bitch is well fit,’ one of the lads shouts from the massed ranks, clearly meaning Lani.

‘Watch your manners,’ Maddox turns and shouts surprising all of us, ‘Was that you Jermaine? You’re on toilet duty for the next week.’

‘Sorry Maddox,’ the lad replies in a humbled tone while the rest of us cast confused glances at each other.

‘Maddox, we have been fighting every day since this thing started, that’s ten solid days of fighting.  We’ve killed tens of thousands of those things, we’ve slaughtered ‘em with guns and with our bare hands…if we wanted to fight you would all be dead, all of you,’ my voice snaps his attention round, ‘but we didn’t because you are children.  Nasty little shits yes, but still children.  We have honour and integrity and we draw a line at that.’

‘Im not a child,’ he sneers.

‘No Maddox, you are clearly not a child mate, but the rest are and even if we killed you it would mean having to kill them, which we won’t do.’

‘How old are you?’ Blowers asks.

‘Eighteen,’ Maddox answers quickly.

‘You look older,’ Nick adds.

‘You been to prison?’ Cookey asks.

‘What? What the fuck is this?’ he spits.

‘You’re massive for an eighteen year old; I heard they got good gyms in prison.’

‘Cos I’m black you think I been in prison,’ he shouts.

‘No mate, cos your big, packed with muscle, and you’re from a council estate, it figures,’ Cookey replies with an easy tone.

‘Did he go to prison then?’ Maddox waves the pistol at Clarence.

‘Nah he’s just a freak,’ Cookey jokes, ‘eats everything.’

‘And snores like a fucking bear too,’ Nick adds as I smile at the disarming banter, one of the lads best weapons and they know it.

‘I bet Blowers would like prison,’ Cookey says softly.

‘Oh fuck off!’ Blowers sighs.

‘All them men in showers,’ Nick joins in, ‘oh did I drop the soap…let me bend over and pick it up.’

‘Fuck off,’ Blowers exclaims rolling his eyes, ‘I get this every bloody day,’ he shakes his head at Maddox.

‘Where’s Lenski?’ Lani asks.

‘What? What the…’

‘I am here,’ she pushes through the youths to stand just behind Maddox.

‘Hi,’ Lani nods at the woman.

‘Hello,’ she replies then stares at Maddox with her arms folded.

‘Well? You kill them now yes? That is what we do now yes? We kill everyone.  So kill,’ she shrugs at him, her face blank.

‘Lenski,’ he says.

‘What?’ she snaps, ‘look at them, they surrender without the fight, look at their guns they could kill all of us.  Why didn’t they do this?’

‘Are you two a couple?’ Lani asks.

‘Yes,’ Lenski replies quickly and I notice the youths looking at each other in surprise, ‘we are, but maybe not for long…’ her voice trails off as Maddox stares at her.

‘What are you worried about Maddox?’ I ask him, ‘that we’ll come back and get revenge? That we’ll try and save these kids? Mate, these kids can look after themselves and as for revenge, no offence but that’s not on our plan.  There’s probably hundreds of communes and places like this round the country. We’re going back to our fort, and the only thing we’re interested in is killing those things.’

‘I couldn’t take that risk,’ he replies, ‘everyone will see us as weak, a base full of kids…’

‘Maddox, we’ve been all over the place.  Those things are everywhere, all over the country.  People are the rare species now.  We’ve got no interest in your compound.  We got a bloody great big fort of our own.  I was trying to tell you before.’

‘You were demanding to know why those people attacked us.’

‘Yeah and maybe I was wrong to do that, but mate…killing people for their food is bad…’

‘Maddox was not in charge at this time no? The Bossman he make these rules and he give the children the drugs.  The Bossman he try to kill Maddox but Maddox kill him and now he in charge.  He say yesterday no more killing, no more of the drugs, he made the fence out there, he stop the children taking the drugs, he say to plant the food and make the crops yes? The Bossman he did the bad things but Maddox he try to fix this but only in last day, we need time to fix this.’ Lenski implored, looking between Maddox and I.

‘This true?’ I ask him.

‘Yeah,’ he replies.

‘Why didn’t you say before?’

‘Not your business,’ he shrugs.

‘Maddox, these are new times.  I understand your suspicion and concern but I think we’ve proved ourselves now.’

‘Yeah,’ he suddenly looks defeated and slumps his shoulders.  I realise the youths are looking at him with concerned expressions, their leader lost for words, the fight gone out of him.  I glance over at Clarence, nodding at him to say something.

‘Er…so what you benching?’ He asks, I stare at him with a look of horror and mouth “what the fuck” he shrugs apologetically, “I don’t know” he mouths back.

‘What?’ Maddox shakes his head and looks at Clarence.

‘Must be well over hundred kilos, big lad like you.’

‘Yeah,’ his voice trailed off ‘let them go, give them their weapons back and let them go.’ He waves at the youths holding our assault rifles who suddenly look crestfallen.

‘Aah Maddox…’ One of them whines and gets a sharp look from Lenski.  Reluctantly the youths hand the weapons back and I watch my group taking their rifles and checking magazines, pushing pistols back into their belt holsters.  Dave moves into the van and starts pushing his knives back into his belt.  Rucksacks get pulled out and swapped about.  I take mine and shove my axe down the back before taking my assault rifle from Nick.  All the time watching Maddox slouch away quietly with Lenski at his side.

‘Wait here,’ I say to the others and start moving after him, ‘Maddox, wait up mate.’

‘What?’ He turns quickly to watch me approaching.

‘You okay? You look like shit.’

‘Tired,’ he replies gruffly.

‘Take it easy mate; if what Lenski said was true then you’re doing the right thing.  But you can’t give up and sulk in front of everyone like that.’

‘What I ain’t sulking,’ he replies quickly.

‘Just can’t do it.  Everyone looks up to you mate, you got to lead them.  They look confused now.’

‘It’s hard,’ he answers quietly showing just how young he really is, ‘I thought I was doing the right thing but then I sent them after you…that was a bad decision, so maybe I’m not doing the right thing.’

‘Everyone makes mistakes mate, that was a bad one admittedly, but it’s done now and you’ve recovered it.  Move on and stick to the plan you had, it sounded a good one to me.  Anyway, your estate is now pretty much cleared out; more might come but keep patrols out on the perimeters and keep checking.  Have fall back points and make sure you got an escape route out of your compound.  Go through the houses and secure everything you need.  If you find other survivors protect them, they’ll be older and can teach you things.  I don’t know everything but I got a good team and they help with everything we do.  Also,’ I’m warming up now, ‘get those vehicles closer to your compound, they are a valuable commodity now.  Don’t waste ammunition either, and get some medical books or something, you can’t leave it to chance with all those kids in one place.  We’re a few miles down the coast, you send someone if you need help.  If we can spare it we’ll send what we can, ask for Howie or Big Chris.’

‘Yeah…thanks,’ he nods, ‘er you too, if we can help with anything then just ask.’

‘That might just happen mate, you got a huge estate here that could easily be fenced in and secured.  Just don’t be alarmed if that happens and people come here…and don’t kill them.’

‘We won’t Howie and I’m sorry for attacking you.’

‘It’s done, but for the record, you don’t know how close you came to losing everything mate.  Those people in my group are nasty bastards if they get pissed off.’

‘It was good to meet you Maddox,’ I hold my hand out which he takes in a firm grip and smiles at me.  A smile full of youth and future…and white teeth.

‘You too Lenski,’ I shake hands with the woman who stares with rapture at Maddox.

‘Take it easy,’ I turn and walk away, back to my group, ‘oh and can we have another vehicle?’

‘Yeah, take what you need, just bring it back!’ Maddox laughs.

‘That’s a deal mate,’ I nod and head over to my group stood talking to the youths. The lads all trading jokes and banter with the kids, Clarence talking to some stockier lads about weight training and Lani staring with revulsion at a sixteen year old girl with a huge cleavage poking out from her low cut top.

‘We’re off,’ I shout over.

‘Again?’ Lani smiles.

‘Yeah again.’

Twenty-Nine

Maddox watches Howie walking away and glances over to the crews crowding round the men with guns.  Shaking his head he sighs deeply and feels an overwhelming sense of shame at what almost happened.  How he misread the situation and nearly risked the lives of so many more people.

‘Shit, this stuff is complicated,’ he says to Lenski.

‘Yes,’ she replies simply.

‘I’m sorry,’ he adds.  Twice now in the last few minutes he’s apologised for his actions.  Something he very rarely does.

‘I know,’ again she replies simply.  He terrified her with his actions, with his thirst for action and violence only it wasn’t that.  He was terrified too.  Scared of those men coming back and hurting the kids.  Lenski knows that’s why he went after them and for that loyalty to the kids she can forgive the dangerous and stupid action he took.

‘What now?’ She asks.

‘We carry on I guess,’ he scratches the side of his head with the end of the pistol, then realises what he’s doing and quickly shoves the gun away, tutting at himself. ‘That Howie had some good advice, perimeters and stuff.’

‘We should find their base so we know the place it is in yes? If we need doctor or something we can get there quickly then.’

‘Okay,’ he nods back, staring down at the ground.  She moves in close and entwines her fingers in his and waits until he lifts his head.  Then she kisses him.  In full view of nearly every crew from the compound they kiss passionately, breaking away and looking round at the sea of young faces watching them quietly.

‘Wot you lot lookin’ at?’ Maddox shouts suddenly making them jump, he grins quickly then laughs at the surprised looks on their faces, ‘everyone back, we got a lot of work to do.’

‘What’s up?’ Darius asks, stepping in next to Maddox as they walk slowly back to the compound.

‘Nuffin’, you?’

‘Nuffin’,’ Darius pauses for a minute then looks over at his friend, ‘I’m glad we didn’t kill them.’ He adds quietly.

‘Me too,’ Jagger says from behind them both, Maddox turns to see Mohammed and more crew chiefs all nodding agreement.’

‘Then why did you shoot at them? Why go after them?’

‘Coz you said so bruv, you the Bossman now Maddox, wot you says it goes innit,’ Mohammed says.

Maddox stops and stares at the chiefs, ‘I got it wrong you get me? I fucked up and read it wrong, if I do that again you got to say something.  I ain’t the Bossman; this ain’t no tyranny with a ruler at the top who always gets what he wants.  You’s got to step up and say something if you think I’m wrong.  I might not agree but I’ll listen, you get me? I can’t do everything.’

‘Yeah we get you Maddox,’ Sierra replies in a serious tone, ‘so are you and Lenski going out now?’ She asks. Still showing the need to know the structure and the hierarchy.

‘Yeah we are,’ Maddox replies with a smile.

‘That’s sweet Maddox,’ Sierra beams at him, ‘so is she still number two, or is she number one with you?’

‘What?’ Maddox shakes his head at the convoluted logic.

‘If she’s number one then that means Darius is number two and I’m wiv Darius so that makes me number two too, so someone got to be number three…’

‘And four,’ Jagger added.

Maddox shook his head for a few long seconds, staring as the chiefs started talking about who the number three and four should be.  The funny thing was he could see the reasoning and knew they’d want the numbers all the way to the bottom.

‘We gotta get back,’ he says, ‘Liam needs to be told he’s now number three…’ He turned with a big smile as the chiefs, stunned into silence for a second, erupted into loud arguments.

‘Oh you a bad man,’ Lenski laughed.  Taking his hand they walked side by side back towards the compound.

Their compound.

Thirty

We take another van from behind the shops and load up.  I drive again but this time Lani sits up front in the passenger seat.  Making idle chat we get lost several times and bicker our way through the confusing estate, making comments that even taxi drivers must find this place confusing.  Eventually we find our way back to the shore and our RIB sat forlorn on the beach.

Dave gets us back into the house and we load the van up with our looted gear, finally, a few hours before dawn we move off.  Driving back through the estate and getting lost a few more times until we find a motorway on the northern edge.  After that it’s a sedate pace and the conversation becomes muted and quiet.

‘What happened here?’ Lani asks as we drive slowly down the country lane towards the ruined landscape of the housing estate bordering the wide open flatlands.

‘Dave,’ Cookey says with a smile, ‘he blew it up.’

‘Really?’ She asks Dave who stares back and nods once.  We still haven’t talked about that conversation we had in the van.  Why I’m so special and need to survive.  But we will.

For now though, the fort is only a few miles away.  Safety and comfort, food and rest.  Big Chris and Doc Roberts, Sergeant Hopewell and Ted.

‘Look at that,’ Lani exclaims leaning forward.  The lads group behind the seats and we look in silence at the soft lights on the fort in the distance.  Just small orange glows that seem to hover in the air.  It fills us all with a profound sense of coming home.

To our compound.

Our fort.

Home.

DAY ELEVEN

ONE

DAY ELEVEN

MONDAY

We drive silently through the flatlands.  Each of us, apart from Lani and Tom, remembering what happened here just a few of days ago.  It’s still night so the ground is featureless apart from the dark shapes of the mounds.  We can’t even see if the bodies have been cleared away but the air is tinged with the smell of burning.  Whether that is coming from the fort ahead or the corpses that have been burnt we can’t tell.

I smile at Lani to re-assure her.  She has left everything she knows, the place she lived and any hope of seeing a familiar face again.  She’s one of us now though so I know she will have many pairs of eyes looking out for her.  But for the rest of us, that sense of coming home is strong.  So much has been invested in this place, so many lives laid down, so much suffering and loss.  That has to stand for something.

The road is longer than I remember and it takes a few minutes to navigate the track leading to the outer doors.

‘Feels like home,’ Clarence says quietly from his position sat on a crate of heavy calibre ammunition in the back of the van.

Reaching the fort we see there are large fires lit along the top, like the castles of olden days when the knights would patrol the turrets and warm their hands on the naked flames, and make ready to unleash fire arrows into the dark perimeter.  Only now it’s high summer and the heat is sweltering.  We’re all bathed in sweat and even with the windows of the van open it feels like there is no movement in the air.

‘Why are there fires lit? Doesn’t that just advertise it to every passing zombie?’ Lani asks quietly as she peers up and looks along the top of the fort.

‘I was trying to figure that out,’ I reply, ‘but I think I know why he’s done it.’

‘Who?’ She asks.

‘Big Chris, he’s sending a signal.  Letting other survivors know this is a safe place and we’re not going to hide away in the shadows.’

‘Either that or he’s forgot to put the things out when the sun went down,’ Clarence adds.

‘Well, we’ll soon find out,’ I say as I bring the van to a gradual stop a few metres back from the doors.  The headlights pick the detail out on the heavy doors.  The same doors we burst from snarling and growling as we charged the undead army.

We climb out, all of us stiff from sitting for so long after another few hours of running and fighting.  Sweat drips from our faces and our clothes cling to our bodies.  I stretch upwards and hear popping noises as my bones crack pleasurably.

‘Did we need to phone ahead and book a room?’ Cookey asks as he walks stiffly to the front of the vehicle.

‘We’d have been spotted way back,’ Clarence remarks.

‘You were spotted way back you noisy fuckers,’ a familiar voice comes from behind the door; making six of us break out in huge grins.

‘We weren’t exactly trying to sneak in, open up we’ve got some presents for you,’ I say with a laugh.  The single door opens and big Chris steps out holding a shotgun in hand.  His white teeth showing in a huge grin through his dark beard.

‘Mr Howie,’ He nods in a mock serious manner.

‘Mr Chris,’ I nod back, he strides forward to pump my hand and clap me on the back.  He gets engulfed as the lads swarm round him, shaking hands and smiling.  Chris and Clarence grip each other in a bear hug that would crush any normal sized man.

‘You did it then?’ He turns to me smiling.

‘They got back okay?’

‘Yesterday morning, we were worried.  We thought you’d be right behind them but then they said about the problem with Darren…’ His voice trails off as he looks at each of us, ‘you lost one,’ he says quietly after counting our number.

‘Steven, he was in the police with Tom,’ I nod towards Tom as I explain.

‘I’m sorry to hear that Tom,’ Chris nods again at the young officer before turning to Lani.

‘Chris this is Lani, Lani this is Chris.’

‘Nice to meet you Lani, I heard about you from the others that got back yesterday.’

‘You too,’ she nods back and shakes his hand.

‘It’s late so we’ll get you in as quick as we can but you’ve got to be checked for bites and scratches first.  Doc Roberts is jacking a team up now.’

‘Yeah fair one,’ I reply with a yawn, ‘mate the van is full of weapons and ammunition, take it in if you want, we’ll wait here until the doc is ready.’

‘Where did you get all that from?’ Chris asks genuinely surprised.

‘Navy supply ship in Portsmouth harbour,’ I answer him.

‘What were you doing on a supply ship?’ He asks with a sweeping glance.

‘Ah you know, thought we’d bring you a gift back from our travels.  So how’s it been here?’

‘Hard like you wouldn’t believe,’ he replies quickly, ‘clearing the bodies up and then when the women and children got back…of course they didn’t know who had survived and who was dead.  Awful,’ he rubs his beard one handed while shaking his head, a far-away gaze in his eyes, ‘just bloody awful…still…you’re back now.  I’ll get that van in and get Doc Roberts to hurry up, you must be knackered.’

‘Understatement,’ Clarence rumbles while resting his frame against the front of the van, ‘this heat! I am bloody melting,’ he pulls his top away from his body and flaps it about to get the air circulating.

‘Tell me about it, try being here and doing manual work instead of pissing about on ships getting new guns,’ Chris calls out as he disappears through the single door and narrowly misses being struck by the water bottle thrown by Clarence.

‘Are we getting the same rooms back? Cookey asks.  I turn round to see him, Blowers and Nick all looking pensive.

‘What’s up with you three?’ I ask concerned.  They don’t reply but look downcast and avoid eye contact.  Then it hits me.  The same thing I felt on the pier.  Being together and on the road, going somewhere, having a thing to do.  Now we’ve done it and got to the place we worked so hard for.  We’ll still be together in the fort, but not as a unit.  We won’t be working and fighting alongside of each other.

‘Bloody hell, we’ve done it,’ the thought sends me reeling.  I push my hand through my hair, ‘we’ve done it,’ I repeat quietly.

‘We have Mr Howie,’ Blowers says.  I glance up and the importance of this moment hits us all.  Dave is staring hard at me, they all are.  The same question on all their faces.  What happens now?

‘We got what we fought for boss,’ Clarence says.

‘It doesn’t feel over,’ I say quickly.

‘It’s not,’ Dave cuts in, his voice flat.  We all turn to stare at him; he just shrugs and looks off into the distance.

‘How do you know that?’ I ask him. He turns his head slowly and fixes me with a level gaze which becomes intense and uncomfortable after a few seconds.

‘I think we all feel it boss,’ Clarence adds.

‘Lads?’ I look to them stood there.  The young army recruits from Salisbury.  They’ve changed so much just in a few days.  They were boys.  They’re men now.  Hard men.  Killers.

‘This ain't done,’ Nick whispers.

‘We stick together then, inside here I mean,’ I look round to see them nodding in agreement.

The double doors swing open as Chris and a couple of other people walk out.  One of them heads towards the van.

‘We’ll sort the van out,’ I call out and stop the man in his tracks.

‘But Chris said…’ he looks unsure.

‘Yeah, change of plan.  We’ll sort it mate but thanks anyway.’

‘Er…yeah okay.’ He turns with a shrug and heads back through the doors, passing Chris as he strides out.

‘Doc’s ready, Lani do you want to go first?’ Chris calls out.

‘Er yeah, is that okay Mr Howie?’ She asks with a quick smile.

‘Yeah definitely…you should go first,’ I nod back.

‘Why is the van still there?’ Chris asks pointing at the vehicle and turning towards the man walking back into the fort.

‘I said we’ll sort it out, it’s got our kit and bags inside, it’ll be easier.’

‘Okay, makes sense. Right, follow me Lani; I’ll lead you to the charming Doctor Roberts.’  They disappear through the outer doors into the wide avenue that separates the two high walls of the fort.  I can see some tent structures set up on one side, torch lights bobbing about and then the sound of a generator kicking in and more lights flood the area.  Within a few minutes we’re being led inside one by one and taken through an opening into a brightly lit tent.  Trestle tables with equipment and a large dentist style magnifying glass on a swivel stand.  Doctor Roberts stood there dressed in a long white lab coat, his intelligent eyes watching me under his bushy eyebrows.

‘Howie,’ he greets me with a firm handshake, ‘good to see you,’ his manner is brusque and he turns away to put a clipboard on the table.  ‘You’ve done this before so you know the drill, strip off and we’ll check you over.’

‘Yes Doc,’ I sigh with tiredness and start peeling the sweaty layers off, using a chair to sit down and unlace my boots.  My feet smell of sweat which causes the doctor to glance round.  He comes over and peers down at my damp socks clinging to my feet.

‘Heard of trench foot? In this weather your feet will rot if you don’t keep them clean and dry.  Get those boots off whenever you can, clean and dry your feet thoroughly.  We’ve got some powder here for you to use.’

‘Okay,’ pulling my socks off and I can see the skin on my toes is crinkled like when I’ve been in the bath too long.  The air feels nice on my feet.  My pistol belt is removed and I lay it within reach on the table, then I strip the trousers off and stand ready for the inspection.  The doc moves in and starts a close physical inspection of my skin, using a bright torch and checking every square inch.  I’m covered in bruises from the falling about but fortunately there are no open cuts or scratches.  He checks my eyes and tells me to look left, right, up and down while he shines the light into them.

‘So have you made any progress with finding out more about the infection?’ I ask him as he sticks something in my ears and leans in to have a look.

‘Ssshh,’ he replies and I go quiet and let him finish.  The examination is very thorough and eventually he steps back and gives me a satisfied nod.

‘Get dressed but put some clean socks on for god’s sake, now what did you say?’

‘Have you made any progress with the infection?’

‘And when exactly would we do that Howie?’ He answers in a sarcastic tone, ‘we’ve been somewhat busy patching everyone up from the fight, you have no idea how many people cut themselves on their own weapons or trod on those bloody sharp things you put down.’

‘Oh right…of course…’

‘And we’re still getting our equipment set up.  We need power but the fuel supply is running low after you used all the fuel from that tanker and then of course you blew the tanker up.’

‘Yeah true…’

‘Chris lets us have power to treat the injured but we can’t get our research equipment running without more power.  We need solar energy, generators, fuel, we need medicines, bandages, anti-biotics, penicillin, we need nurses and clean water and then maybe we can start looking at this infection.’

‘Okay doc…sorry I didn’t mean to cause offence.’

‘You did not cause offence.  You asked a question and I answered it.  Now you’re back you can go and get supplies.  We need the stock from the local hospitals.  Chris is run off his feet here so you’ll have to do it.’

‘What now? Doc we’ve been non-stop for days.  We need some sleep.’

‘Of course you need sleep. Do you want me to sign you off for a week?  You all need to rest and take a long holiday but that’s not going to happen is it.  So get some sleep now and be ready to go out in the morning.’

‘Right,’ I nod wearily, ‘yeah no problem. We’ll need lists of what to get and where the hospitals are.’

‘Sergeant Hopewell has kindly agreed to sort the mapping out, as for lists you don’t need them.’

‘Why not,’ I ask him as I pull the pistol belt round my waist and start fastening it up.  He walks towards the back of the tent and uses a hose to wash his hands, scrubbing them with some kind of medical detergent.

‘Because we need everything you can find that’s why.  Send the next one in please.’ And that’s me done.  Exam over.  I give my thanks and walk out the tent to find several of the others already stood nearby and waiting.

‘Next one can go,’ I motion to the tent behind me, Nick stubs a cigarette out and heads that direction, ‘we’ve got our orders, the doc wants us to scavenge the local hospitals and chemists shops.  He said they’re running low on everything.’

‘You said it wasn’t over Dave,’ Blowers says with a rueful grin.

‘Psychic psycho,’ Cookey quips and apologises instantly on getting a hard glare from Dave and a round of “oohh’s” from the rest of us as we jokingly take steps back leaving Cookey stood alone looking distinctly unhappy, ‘I really didn’t mean it Dave…’ Cookey adds.  Dave just stares at him unflinching, seconds pass as Cookey suddenly sees his future mapped out in pain and suffering.  Dave steps forward causing Cookey to yelp and jump back, Dave simply drops down and starts to unfasten his bootlaces while the rest of us burst out laughing, especially Blowers who bends over double laughing hard.  Dave glances up and I see that rare smile on his face that changes his features so much.

‘What happened?’ Nick bursts out from the tent holding his top, pistol belt, boots and trying to pull his trousers up, ‘what did I miss?’ He grins at the sight of Cookey red in the face and everyone else wetting themselves.

‘Cookey picked a fight with Dave and lost big style,’ Blowers explains between taking breaths.

‘If you have finished pissing about perhaps you could send the next one in please,’ Doc Roberts looms out of the tent with his white lab coat flapping around his legs.

‘Sorry Doc,’ Clarence chuckles as he walks over and stoops down to pass through the tent opening.

‘Nick put your top on,’ Dave says in his sergeant voice after a few minutes of chatting.  I turn round to see Nick stood there smoking with his top off.

‘Sorry Dave,’ he replies quickly and starts shrugging his arms through the holes, ‘it’s really hot.’

‘We are not thugs on the beach Nick, we have reputation and image to uphold,’ Dave intones.

‘Sorry Dave,’ Nick repeats.

‘We are back amongst other people now and we will show a standard of behaviour.  We are a unit, a fighting unit and that makes us close,’ Dave stares at Blowers, Nick, Cookey, Tom and even Lani, ‘we have banter and jokes but in sight of other people we show a level of professionalism and respect.’

‘Good advice,’ I add, ‘these people will be suffering and grieving so take it easy with the pissing about, got it?’ They nod back looking serious, sweaty and very tired.

‘You all cleared yet?’ Chris asks walking towards us from the inner gates.

‘Almost,’ I answer as Blowers darts in to be checked.

‘We’ve got some rooms put by for you.  Roger got some of the old stores emptied out so you got a bit more space but they’re right at the back though, does that bother you?’

‘No mate and we won’t be here long by the sounds of it.  Doc Roberts said he needs the local hospitals checked…’

‘…I bloody knew he’d get that in quickly, I told him to give you a break and we’d sort it out,’ Chris’s spits in a flash of anger.

‘Chris it’s fine mate, really.  We can go back out in the morning.  We’ll have the Saxon and maybe take a van or something.’

‘You’ll need more people with you then,’ he goes back to rubbing his beard.

‘We can take Ted or that Brian bloke that helped Clarence before the big fight.’

‘Brian? He died in the battle.’

‘Shit, did he? I’m so sorry I didn’t realise…’

‘Not your fault, leave it with me.  Let’s get you in and settled. You look fucked.’

‘Understatement,’ Clarence growls.

The inner doors are opened and we’re once more back inside the fort proper.  Nick drives the van slowly while the rest of us walk in front.

‘It’s big, a lot bigger than I thought it would be,’ Lani says looking round.

‘It can hold thousands of people,’ I reply, ‘we’ll try and get you the guided tour in the morning.’

We stay to the far side, walking quickly and trying to get through to the back without disturbing too many people.  Small fires burn throughout the interior.  Figures walking round in the shadows.  Children and adults crying.  People calling out in pain.  I’m glad it’s night so we can get in quietly.  I know Sarah and the others will be here and will want to see us but we’re beat and need sleep more than anything.

We’re led to the back, past the police office and the rooms we used the last time to an arched door set into lower wall.  Gas lanterns are already lit inside and I see Sarah stood by the door smiling.  So much for the quiet entry.

‘Hey,’ she calls out softly and rushes forward to embrace me in a tight hug, ‘you made it…again.’

‘Again,’ I say at the same time and hold her closely, ‘you got back okay then?’

‘They kept their word,’ she says, ‘they argued all night because of what you did, leading them away like that but they took us to the harbour in the morning…’

‘We saw the boats going over, we were up the pier,’ I reply.

‘We saw the smoke coming from the town…was it bad?’

‘Bloody awful, we lost Steven.’

‘Oh Christ!’ Her hand covers her mouth as she breaks free and finds Tom standing nearby.  She hugs him next as I remember Tom and Steven went with them when they fled the fort.  They stand murmuring for a few minutes before she moves away to Clarence.

‘Let’s get in,’ I say and head towards the door.  Inside the room looks inviting with a soft glow from lanterns set on low.  Doors lead off into other rooms and we move round checking inside each door and finding two beds set up in each.  Just mattresses on the floor but at least they’ve got clean sheets and a lamp.  Someone has put bottles of water in the rooms and snack food.  There is a big table in the main room with wooden chairs set round it, several mugs of steaming coffee on the table filling the room with a nice aroma.

Checking the rooms gives me a flutter of panic.  Eight of us and four rooms.  Two beds in each room.  Two sharing each room.  Seven men and one woman.  I can feel my face going red just from the thought of how this is worked out.  Maybe Dave, Clarence and I can share and give Lani some privacy.  Or better still Nick, Blowers and Cookey can share but no, that would leave Tom on his own and there’s no point getting four of them to share one room.  I start biting my fingernails as my exhausted mind tries to work out the best solution.

‘Two per room, I’ll share with you Mr Howie,’ Lani brushes past me and puts her bag onto one of the beds.  I glance round expecting there to be stares and giggles but no one bats an eyelid.  Clarence and Dave have gone into one room, Nick and Tom and then the inseparable Blowers and Cookey into the last one.

‘Right, yes…’ I move away and grab a mug of coffee from the table and start gulping quickly.

‘Weapons and kit bags first, wash then sleep,’ Dave exits his room and crosses over to pick a mug of coffee up.  Lanterns are brought into the main room and turned up as everyone starts checking kit bags and taking their assault rifles apart.

Exhaustion kicks in and the conversations become stilted and quiet.  Eyes look heavy and movements become slow, cumbersome.  Eventually the essential bit is done and we drift off in silence into the rooms and I hear bodies impacting on mattresses.  Within minutes there are snores drifting through as I turn the lanterns off and leave one burning on low in the main room.  Entering the room and I see Lani sitting on her mattress pulling her boots off.  She smiles up at me.  The room is small and square.  The mattresses are next to each other with just enough room to stand in between them.

I sit down and unlace my boots before pulling them off.  Socks too and then I go to take my top off and pause.  I glance round and see her lying on one side with her head propped up by one hand smiling at me, she winks suggestively then laughs quietly.

‘Not funny,’ I murmur.

‘Just take it off; you’ll roast if you leave it on.’

‘You’re still dressed,’ I say then have another little panic as I realise I might have sounded like I wanted her to get undressed.  I hear rustling coming from her direction and then quietness again.

‘Now I’m not,’ she whispers, ‘just strip off and relax, I’m too exhausted to attack you now.’

‘Okay,’ I chuckle at the thought of the fearless leader of the living army, having fought countless battles and now worried about the improper attire when sleeping in the same room as a beautiful woman.  I shrug and take the top off then stretch out on the bed.  The humidity feels so high and not having the top on makes no discernible difference.

I roll onto my side and my heart starts beating rapidly at the sight of Lani lying on her side facing me wearing tight shorts and a bra.  The low light of the lantern casts her in a golden hue, and I can’t help but run my eyes over the contours of her body.  The gentle fall of her hips into her waist, gem stone glittering in her naval.  The bra is white and plain but the soft mounds of her breasts stand out against the athletic leanness of her body.  I look up and see her watching me, a gentle smile on her face.  I smile back and extend a hand out.  She meets it halfway, entwining her fingers into mine.  Her eyes are drowsy and just watching them closing heavily makes my own feel the same.

We sleep hand in hand with the sweat dripping from our glistening bodies.

TWO

DAY ONE

The German Shepherd dog doesn’t know days and nights.  She has no concept of time.  Only that the light and dark follow each other in an endless cycle.  She has memory and knows her pack is gone.  The images in her mind unsettle her.  Fleeting images of the pack.  Their hands rubbing her tummy and stroking her ears.  The soft noises they made.

They were a close pack.  The bond was unbreakable, or so it seemed.  Every night she would lie at the top of the stairs and sleep with her ears pricked.  Eyes opening and scanning at every sound.  When the little one coughed or cried out she raised her head and listened intently.  If the crying persisted she nosed the bedroom door open and roused the bigger ones, alerting the pack leader that something was wrong.  They always responded kindly, praising her for waking them and giving a few strokes of her furry head.

In the mornings they would wake and she would watch with interest as they moved quietly about the rooms, depositing their scent into the water and washing their bodies.  While the pack leaders were doing this she would creep into the little one’s bedroom and stare at the sleeping form.  If the little one didn’t wake she would gently nuzzle the face, giving small licks to the mouth and nose.  The little one always woke up and showed his teeth.  This was a good thing for them to do and she felt a sense of contentment as the little one threw his arms round her shaggy neck and pulled her in for a cuddle.  Despite nearly always being uncomfortable, with a sharp elbow or knee poking in her side, she settled down and wagged her tail, showing she was happy while the little one made soft noises and played with her fur.

Then she would be allowed outside, and after depositing her own scent in the given area she would nose round the perimeter and check the grounds of the den.  Scent trails put down in the night.  Animals going through her territory while she guarded from the inside.  She would find a corner of the grounds to defecate and then stroll back to the pack.  Checking the position of each one.  The little one up the hill making long noises and putting more covers on.  The pack leaders in the place of the food, talking and moving quickly as they prepared to leave.

She knew the routine and moved between them, waiting for the little one to come down and knowing she would get a treat if she sat quietly under the flat thing.

Her own food would be put down, she didn’t eat it straight away but left it until they were all gone and the den was hers.  She would graze throughout the day, moving from room to room and nosing the net curtains aside to stare out of the front room window.  When the pack returned she knew her special time was close when she would be taken out on patrol with the pack leader.

But then it changed.

The little one went to his den to sleep and the pack leaders stayed downstairs staring at the thing with the bright lights and loud noises.  She heard it well before the rest of the pack; the noise from outside.  A high pitched wail from further away.  She cocked her head and strained to listen.  More high pitched noises and even she knew they were sounds of distress and pain.  Noises like the little one made when he fell down.

She didn’t like the sounds and made a warning growl to alert the pack that something wasn’t right.  The pack leader made the thing with the bright lights go quiet as they all listened.  The sounds got closer, other noises too.  Things breaking and noises the pack made when they were angry.  She was worried; this was too close, the noises were too close so she made sound to tell them she was here.  This was her ground and they must not come here.

The pack leaders looked out the window and made noises to each other.  She knew from the tone that they were worried and they spoke quietly.  Then they opened the door and looked out.  She didn’t want this to happen and whined at them, urging them to seal the den.  Danger was outside and she could smell blood, lots of blood.  It was hanging in the air and tasted metallic in her mouth.

They went out and she waited, moving back to the stairs as she realised the little one was unprotected now.  The pack leaders made loud noises.  They were in pain and she wanted to go to them but knew the little one had to be defended.  She was the main one in the den now and with the door open the danger could come in here.

Her ears twitched as she picked the sounds out, following the noises of her pack as they got louder and angrier.  Then they were quiet.  She moved up the stairs and turned to lie down with her front paws and nose over the top step.

Something was coming close to the den.  She could hear the steps being taken and the ragged course breathing.  The doorway filled with something.  She recognised the form as the pack leader.  It still had the scent too but it was different now.  It smelled of blood.  It wasn’t the pack leader anymore.  She knew this and stood up; making herself look bigger and she showed the thing her teeth.  The thing ignored the warning and came in anyway so she made noise.  Loud noise.  Angry noise.  She stood her ground as the thing came faster up the hill.

The little one was alone now.  She had to defend the little one.  They were the pack.  Defend the pack.  Defend the ground.  She lunged at the thing and used her sharp teeth to bite into the neck.  She knew through instinct this was the weakest point and it was already bleeding.

Her weight took them both down and the normally gentle animal used every ounce of her strength as she tore it apart.  Ripping and biting, feeling the blood pour in her mouth as she savaged it to death.  She destroyed the enemy without mercy.  This wasn’t the pack leader she felled.  It was an enemy, an attacker.

She knew the life went out of it.  She could detect the heart beat ceasing and the lack of breath.  The energy gone from the thing.  She had defeated the attacker and defended her ground so she once more went back up the hill to lie down and watch the entrance.

More came.  More entered the den and posed a threat to the little one.  They were dealt with the same way.  Killed and savaged as they tried to get past her.  She moved quickly, jumping high and tearing flesh open.  Ragging the bodies about and showing them she was strong and fierce.  She didn’t tire or feel bad.  This was instinct.  Throughout the night she killed and killed again until the downed bodies were a new level to walk on.

As the sun came up she sensed a difference.  The energy of the attackers was different.  They were slow and weak now.  She used this time to drink from the place where the pack deposited their scent.

She nosed the door open and walked to the little one, gently nosing his face and waiting as he opened his eyes and showed teeth.  The little one gave her fuss and made soft noises.  She whined and pulled away; trying to tell the little one they had to leave.

She watched as the little one moved noisily about and deposited his scent.  The little one then went into the place the pack leaders slept.  The pack leaders were gone so the little one started to move down the hill and stopped when he saw the enemies taken down during the night.

The little one made noises and kept making noises.  She whined and stayed close, sensing the fear from him.  She licked the salty liquid that fell from the little ones eyes and felt her neck being squeezed as he clung to her neck and made the noise she recognised as the sound they called her by.

‘Bear….bear…..bear,’ other sounds but that one was her sound.

They had to go.  They had to leave this place.  This wasn’t a safe den anymore and the pack leaders were gone.  She ran down the hill and whined for the little one to follow her.  Noises were made and she knew the little one didn’t want to follow, but she persisted and urged until finally he came down.

The little one made lots of noises as he walked on the bodies of the enemies taken down during the night.  The dog watched as he pulled at the body of the one that was once the pack leader.

In the end she gently gripped the material of his coat and tugged him away.  Pulling him and whining.  The little one came with her and they walked outside into the open air.  The smell of blood was everywhere.  Bodies were everywhere.

The little one made whining noises to show he was scared.  She rubbed herself against his legs and ushered him away from the den.  They had to find a safe place.  This wasn’t safe.

Another attacker was nearby, she could smell it.  The stench of the thing was unmistakable.  She growled to alert the little one as they walked out into the open grounds.  There it was.  Moving slowly but she could sense the hunger in it.  The predatory nature of the thing.  It wanted the little one who made noises at the thing and then ran towards it.

She ran in front of the little one, making more noise to tell him to stay away but he didn’t listen.  He ran towards the thing with his small arms held out.  The thing kept coming closer and she tried blocking the little one but he ran round and kept going.  The little one didn’t know the danger.  He was too young.

With a big jump she took the thing by the throat and dragged it away from the little one.  Pulling with all her strength and shaking her head so her teeth would slash the wound open.  The little one made a high pitched sound and kept making the noise as she felt the life end in the thing she gripped.

She released and looked to see the little one was down on the ground and making a long whining noise.  She sensed the sadness and fear and tried to lick his face.  She was pushed away but stayed close, whining and slinking with her ears and tail down.  More coming. She lifted her nose and sniffed the air.  The things made low sounds and she knew there was more than one.  Another pack coming their way.  A pack of the things.  She growled and whined for the little one to move.  She tugged at the material and felt the little one grab her neck and squeeze hard.  She knew the he was scared and wanted the contact of the pack to feel safer but this was not the time.  She waited for a few seconds and wriggled free, bouncing away and turning to face the pack of things now in view.

She positioned herself between the pack and the little one and made noise.  Telling this pack she had killed many and would do again.  The little one wouldn’t move but stayed on the ground with liquid falling from his eyes.

The pack was closer now and she knew she had to act.  She ran at them and stopped in front, making noise and showing her teeth.  They paid no heed to her warning and came anyway.  The smell of blood filled her nose, the smell of their scent, the way they moved.  They were hungry and wanted to take the little one.

She moved quickly and took the first one down.  Dragging it to the floor and shaking her head to damage the thing.  They didn’t react but kept going.  She moved between them.  Pulling them down and biting deep into their necks.  She took fingers away from hands.  Hands away from arms and an arm away from a body.  She killed each one before they reached the little one who stayed on the ground covering his face and making noises.

It was hot here.  No shade.  She was thirsty and wanted to drink but the little one wouldn’t move so she stayed thirsty.  More came.  More were killed.  The little one stayed low on the ground with his face covered while she dealt with the attackers until all around were the bodies of the things she killed.

She laid down panting hard.  Then a big thing came.  She had been inside the big things before when the pack leaders took her somewhere different.  She knew they would go the place with the big salty water and the soft ground and she would be able to jump in the salty water with the little one.

The big thing had to move slow as it couldn’t go over the bodies she had killed.  Then it was not moving and people were coming out of it.  They made noises and went towards the little one.  She watched them but sensed no danger.  They didn’t have the hunger of the things and the noises they made were soft and nice.  She let them touch the little one and watched as the little one clutched at them and more liquid fell from his eyes.

One of them took the little one into the big thing.  A man stayed and looked at the bodies then at her.  The man seemed to know she had killed the things and he bent down and looked closely into her eyes, his face calm but he smelled of fear too.  The man stroked her head and looked back at the big thing.  She sensed he was unsure of something, she could feel his indecision.  He looked back down at her and pulled some material out.  He wiped her mouth and looked at the blood on the material then shook his head.  He stroked her head and went over to the big thing.  She knew they were taking the little one away.  The male was the leader of another pack.  They wanted the little one but not her.  The little one needed a strong pack to survive so she sat down to show she accepted this.

The male stopped at the big thing and looked at her.  She lay down to show she understood that they should take the little one into their pack.  The little one needed to be with his own kind.  He moved his face up and down a few times.  He conveyed a message.  He would protect now.

The big thing moved off and she was alone.

She went back inside the den simply because she knew there would be water.  She drank.  She drank all of the water and then ate the food that was left.  Once she was finished she walked round the den, going into each room and savouring the scent of the pack.  She lay down in the place the little one slept.  She felt sadness and wanted to be close to the smell of him.

The dog was tired but this was not the place to sleep.  She jumped down from the bed and moved to the door.  Looking back and breathing in deeply.  With a soft whine she went down the hill and walked over the bodies of the things she had killed.

Outside she moved away from the den, keeping to the shade and listening for the sounds of the things.  She heard them often and scented them more.

She sensed the hunger, the predator in them.  She knew if they found the little one, they would kill him.  So she killed them first.  She was strong and fast.  She was almost as heavy as them too.  She had power and speed, sharp teeth and a strong neck.  They were no match for her and she took advantage of this.

By the end of that day she had killed many.  Leaving a trail of savaged bodies behind her.  She killed them in groups, in couples, hordes and on their own.  She found water and drank and kept moving.

She saw people too.  Running and hiding.  She saw one fighting the things and attacking them with something in his hands.  She helped the man and took several down with him.

Then one of the things bit him.  She killed the thing and watched the man on the ground holding his neck.  She sensed the life leave his body while he stared at her.  His hand stretched out to touch her face.  She let him ruffle the hair and his hand dropped down.   Then his life came back but it wasn’t his life.  It was something else.  He wasn’t the same as he was.  His eyes were those of the things.  He smelled of them.  He had that hunger.   She killed him quickly.

As the light went and the dark came she heard them make noise.  It made the hairs on her neck stand up.  She cocked her head and listened as all around her the things howled into the darkness.  She sensed the change before she saw them.  That hunger was strong now.  They moved quickly like they did before.

She heard them running.  She waited in the shadows, watching a pack of them moving past her.  They had prey in their sights and were chasing it.  She was dark too.  Her pack leaders used to call for her in the grounds of the den and she knew they couldn’t see her.  She used this as she ran alongside this pack with long easy strides and watching them.  Then she moved out and took one down.  Savaging its neck and tearing the life from it.  She caught the pack up and took them down one by one.

She felt the tiredness slowing her down.  She moved away from the area of the hard ground where the people lived and moved into the soft ground.  She found water running in a stream.  She drank the water.  She pushed herself into bushes and found a hole to lie down.

The dog felt a different sensation inside her.  A strange feeling that made her stomach gurgle and her heart beat faster.  She felt hot and panted heavily as her eyes rolled in her head.

She closed her eyes and slept.

THREE

DAY ONE

‘CUT! Paco that was brilliant, absolutely brilliant.’

‘Say, was it okay? I mean was it good?’

‘Paco it was pure art and perfectly executed.’

‘I don’t mind doing another take to make it perfect.  I should have lifted the eyebrow more.’

‘Paco are you crazy, it was perfect.  The eyebrow was perfect.’

‘Really? I’m not sure…can I see the playback?’

‘Now? You wanna see it now?’

‘I could have got more out of it; …maybe the other eyebrow instead?’

‘Okay, get the playback ready.  Your angle was fine Paco.’

‘ I was walking in the street right? I was expecting something to happen, just not that.  I wasn’t expecting that to happen.  So the show of surprise has to be mixed with one of expectancy right? Well that look always comes better from the other eyebrow.’

‘Can you see the monitor Paco? There you are, walking through the town.  Smoke and debris littered everywhere right? Your walking through and then bam! There it is, right in front of you.  Now…here we go...close up and bam! The head tilts back…the eyebrow lifts… bam! it’s perfect, Paco it’s perfect, you look perfect.’

‘You think?’

‘What? You’re Paco Maguire; you look perfect in every scene.’

‘Maybe I shouldn’t look so perfect Bob, you know this is Armageddon so maybe I should look a bit less….you know….perfect.’

‘Paco if we covered you in mud and shit you’d still shine; you’re a star Paco, a gleaming star surrounded by the end of the world, death, suffering and disease…’

‘I get it Bob, but hey if this is the end of the world then shouldn’t I look a bit…you know…rougher…’

‘Rougher?’

‘Maybe tougher?’

‘Tougher?’

‘Rougher and tougher?’

‘Oh rougher and tougher…I see what you mean Paco and you know what? I’m glad you raised it.  But this is the start of the event so you get rougher and tougher as it goes on, you can’t start off rough and tough…there’d be no transition.’

‘Transition?’

‘Yeah Paco, you need a transition.  You’re an everyday guy right? You’re looking for your family right? So why would an all American everyday guy start off looking rough and tough.  That comes later when you….well when you have the transition.’

‘Transition.  Right.  So is that like a montage or something?’

‘What?’

‘The transition Bob, how are we doing the transition? I’m thinking a montage.’

‘A montage?’

‘Yeah, show the character transiting…’

‘Transitioning.’

‘Yeah transmissioning…you know, like old school Rocky.’

‘Paco, did you read the script?’

‘What? Of course I read the script, what are you saying Bob? This is a creative flow.’

‘No, no Paco, the idea is great.  I love it! It’s great that you have these ideas.  Isn’t it great that Paco has these ideas? I said it was going to be great working with Paco cos he has these ideas, didn’t I say that? See I said that.  It’s just that, you know…we have the script and everything is already in place.  The studio might not like the idea of us moving away from the script.’

‘I can talk to the studio Bob; you want me to get my people to speak with the studio?’

‘No! I mean no Paco, you’re in the creative flow right now and we need you focussed Paco, we want nothing distracting you from the creative genius you have.  Why don’t you get some rest and we’ll prep for the next…’

‘You sure Bob? It’s a phone call; I get my people to speak with your people.  If you want a montage then we get a montage.’

‘I tell you what Paco, we’ll speak to our people and get someone to get back to your people but hey buddy…Paco…We need you sharp and ready, you gonna be ready?’

‘I’m ready Bob?’

‘You sure Paco? The trailer okay? You got everything you need?’

‘The trailer’s fine Bob, I’ll get ready.’

‘You do that Paco…jeesh! Actors…I mean I know the guy is grossing big right now but did you hear him? A fucking montage? What is this the fucking eighties? Like the studio is gonna go for a fucking montage, hey Bob…do you think I should have lifted the other eyebrow…jeesh!  Get ready for the next scene…where are my zombies? Hey where the fuck are my zombies?’

Paco walks through the film set casually nodding a greeting at the horde of zombies stood next to the catering truck, drinking coffee and smoking while taking care not to damage the make-up applied to their faces.  Layers of latex twisting their features into gruesome bone exposing blood soaked undead.

‘Hey guys, you look great,’ Paco calls out with a thumbs up, getting a round of twisted macabre smiles in response.

‘Damn it’s hot,’ he mutters as he reaches the trailer door.  Leaving the door open behind him he pauses in front of the full length wall mirror.  The mirror that he insisted was present so he could check his reflection before leaving the trailer every time.  He casts an appreciative glance at his form.  Solid upper body, bulging chest muscles and wide shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist.  Huge beefy arms looking even bigger within the too tight stretch top.  He smiles to show his perfect gleaming straight teeth and dark tussled hair giving him that all American appeal.  Women loved him.  Men loved him.  Everyone loved him.  He knew it.  His agent knew it and the studio knew it better than all of them which is why they were more than happy to agree to any demand he had.

‘Hey can I get costume in here?’ Paco leans his head out of the trailer and shouts into the general bedlam of the set, knowing full well he would have been heard.  Two minutes later a breathless but attractive young lady knocks on the open door.

‘Mr Maguire? You called for costume sir?’ the girl calls out.

‘Hey yeah…wow yeah Hi,’ Paco smiles down at the woman and held his hand out, helping her up into the vehicle, ‘who are you?’ Paco winks, tensing his bicep muscles as pulls the girl up.

‘I’m Jenny,’ the girl replies.  She had been warned exactly what to expect from Paco but still felt herself becoming star struck in the presence of the man, she smiles back and stands there staring at his perfect teeth and dark sparkling eyes.

‘Well I’m glad they sent you Jenny,’ Paco beams knowing the effect he’s having.

‘Me too,’ she murmurs quietly.

‘Say Jenny, maybe you can help me with something…’

‘Anything Mr Maguire.’

‘Hey call me Paco, I’m one of you.  Sure I’m the big name actor,’ he smiles, making finger quote marks, ‘but the cast and crew are the same Jenny, we’re all in this together.’

‘Er…okay Paco,’ Jenny nods eagerly.  Her first week on set of a major Hollywood financed movie and already she was in a luxury trailer with The Paco Maguire.

‘Say Jenny,’ Paco began, emphasising his American drawl knowing these English girls always fell for it, ‘do you think this top is tight enough?’ he steps in close and turns side on to the girl, straightening his arm to tense his triceps muscle.  The rock hard horseshoe bulging under his skin, ‘I’m not sure if it’s showing the guns off enough, what do you think Jenny?’

‘Oh…’Jenny replies, captivated by the size of the muscle and the carefully tanned skin.

‘See here,’ Paco pushes his finger up inside the sleeve, pulling it away from his skin, ‘I think the sleeve is a little loose, they should be tighter yeah? Here you try.’ He lifts her hand to push her slender finger under the material.  She breathes heavily as she feels the hardness of his muscle.  They told her he would do something like this, and wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself but still…he was Paco Maguire…and he looked so good.

‘Do you think it’s too loose?’ he asks softly.

‘Yeah,’ she whispers paying more attention to his arm muscles than the actual tightness of the material.

‘I knew it,’ he nods, promptly pulling the top off, exposing his rock hard abs and defined chest, ‘can you get me a smaller size?’

‘Oh my…’Jenny wheezes at the sight of one of the world’s most famous six packs.

‘What?’ Paco says in surprise, ‘oh you mean these,’ he runs his hand down the washboard muscles.

‘Wow,’ Jenny stares at the smooth skin plunging down into the top of the trousers.

‘You like them? Yeah they’re pretty famous.  More famous than me I think sometimes,’ he laughs, ‘here, wanna touch them?’  Her hand shoots out faster than she intended to start feeling the warm rock hard muscles.

‘Well that ain’t fair,’ Paco murmurs softly, ‘you gotta let me have a turn too.’ He slips his hands under her denim shirt, running his fingers up her not so defined stomach.  Within a second his hands have pulled the front of her bra down, cupping her breasts.  Jenny hardly notices as she strokes his stomach, barely believing that she was inside the trailer with Paco Maguire and getting her tits touched up.

Precisely two minutes later she’s on her knees in front of him as he rests against the end of the sofa, pushing the back of her head firmer into his groin.  Exploding with a grunt he holds her head in place for a few seconds until she pulls away coughing and spluttering.

‘Wow Jenny... that was so good,’ Paco smiles down at the girl.  He tenderly lifts her up and uses a tissue to wipe the mess from her face.  He doesn’t care for the girl but he knows from years of experience that he now has a regular supply of sex as long as he shows some kindness, ‘now be a good girl and get Paco a new top hey,’ he pats her behind as he steers her towards the door, Jenny still wiping her face and not quite believing what just happened.

Smiling to himself he closes the door and walks through to the back of the trailer.  Using the power shower to rinse himself off and the soft Egyptian cotton towels to gently dry his perfect skin.

Friday night in England and he hadn’t expected it to be this hot.  No air and he hated the thought of looking sweaty and red faced, apart from when the time came to look sweaty and red faced but that would be carefully contrived from the make-up girls and not from any real physical exertion.  He was fit, he had to be to have a physique like this but that was done in the privacy of a gym with a team of trainers and nutritionists.

He dresses into a clean pair of trousers that exactly matched those he had worn previously, then busies himself making a fresh latte from the brand new coffee machine.

‘Hi Paco…I got your top for you,’ Jenny knocks on the door, grinning up at the Adonis stood there holding a coffee cup.

‘Well gee Jenny that’s just great, you know I knew we’d get along well, here you want some coffee?’ He asks taking the top from her and casually throwing it over one muscled shoulder.

‘Er…well we’ve got the catering truck out here and the producer said we shouldn’t….’

‘Hey forget that producer, get in here and have a decent cup of java with me, I promise I won’t rat you out,’ he smiles and helps her inside, making a scene of squinting outside to make sure no one was looking and quickly closing the door.  She giggles as he presses buttons on the coffee machine.

‘So Jenny, tell me about you,’ he asks handing her the cup and staring intently into her pale blue eyes that might as well have had hearts instead of pupils.

‘Well, oh gosh…er…well I was at university studying fashion and then I got the degree and a friend of mine had this business and said I should come work for her…oh my god I’m babbling…’

‘That is so interesting Jenny,’ he nods, ‘are you enjoying it?’  Paco couldn’t care less if she was enjoying it.  He enjoyed sex with women and she was a woman.  That was it.  He had been through the days of arrogance and knew that a few kind words would have the girl dropping to her knees whenever he asked.

‘Oh gosh well yes it’s so exciting! This is the first movie I’ve worked on and everything is so fascinating.  I really had no idea how all these things were done….’ She drones on holding her cup in two hands with her feet crossed at the ankles.  Paco nods and murmurs to show he’s listening while eyeing her shapely legs and savouring the image of later when he would be naked between them.

‘Paco, you’re needed on set, they’re ready for the next scene,’ a voice calls from outside the trailer.

‘Got it,’ Paco calls back, ‘hey Jenny I’m real sorry we got to cut this short but you know…duty calls,’ he shrugs as though it’s a bad thing while pushing his arms through the top and pulling it down over his torso.  Jenny plonks her coffee cup down and rushes over to help him with the now far too tight top.  They get it down and she stands back to look at the material clinging to his frame.  He was right though.  The tighter top did suit him.  Without an ounce of fat on his body it was like a second layer of skin.

‘Gosh you look so good Paco,’ she purrs.

‘Gee thanks Jenny,’ he flashes her a big smile, ‘now I’ll go out first and you wait a couple of minutes and sneak out after. We don’t want that producer getting all antsy now.’

‘Okay,’ she replies eagerly, desperate to impress him.

‘Enjoy the coffee Jenny,’ he winks, opening the door and walking out, leaving her swaying on the spot.

Paco strolls out of the trailer and across the concrete of the small town American film set.  More and more filming was taking place in sets like these across Europe with lower costs and the average crew salary being far less than in the States.

He crosses the end of the set, stepping over snaking wires and rail tracks set up for the camera systems.  Make-up units, lighting, sound engineers and a hundred other professionals all moving about and making ready.  He steps a few more feet into the street, staring at a working set of mainstream American traffic lights, American road signs and American line markings on the road surface.  Just the sight of it makes him feel a little homesick with a sudden longing to be back in his own country and away from the flat and weird tones of the English.

‘Paco! You look great! Have you been pumping up?’ The director yells loudly as he paces over the street towards him.

‘Hey Bob, no it’s just a tighter top,’ Paco replies without any sense of shame.

‘Okay Paco, this is the big scene.  You’re walking down the street and you’ve already seen the zombies turning the corner and coming towards you right?’

‘Right,’ Paco nods listening intently.

‘So now, there is a few seconds of stand-off and then the woman comes running out from the side street, she’s screaming and not watching where she goes.  She runs straight into them…bam! And they set on her right?’

‘Right Bob.’

‘You Paco, you look at them hard, then you see her and you look confused, then you look scared for her safety and you try to yell a warning…’

‘Hey lady?’ Paco suggests.

‘Yeah “hey lady” is great, you yell “hey lady” and you look terrified as she gets taken down.’

‘Okay Bob, so I look hard then confused then I yell and then I look terrified.’

‘That’s it Paco.’

‘Okay Bob and then what?’

‘Paco are you sure you read the script? Never mind, then we’ll get ready for the next scene which is you running at them and trying to save the woman.’

‘Okay Bob.  Hard, confused, yell out then terrified…got it Bob.’

‘You’re a trooper Paco, a real trooper.  Places everyone….’ Bob walks away waving his arms and shouting orders as the commotion suddenly ceases and perfect quiet descends.  The horde of zombies are led out and put into position, a couple of them coughing and practising their groans while a few more jump up and down on the spot swinging their arms to limber themselves up.

‘This is a hot set,’ Bob bellows as he stalks backwards towards the camera equipment, ‘I want quiet on set…anyone so much as farts and they’ll be out of a job.’

Instant silence as everyone apart from the actors freezes in place.  Anything that could rattle, jangle, shake or vibrate was gripped.  Conversations ended abruptly.  The atmosphere charged instantly as all eyes turn to Paco and the horde of zombies being quietly moved onto their exact spots.  A long drawn out line of them with the most graphically created zombies at the front.

The unknown actress standing at the fake junction of the fake side road takes deep breaths as she prepares for her fifteen seconds of fame.  Paco runs through his facial reactions, quickly practising them, contorting his face, angling his head and deciding whether to stand face on or angled to the side.  Hard. Confused. Yell.  Terrified.  Got it.

‘Okay rolling camera…everyone ready….Action!’ Bob shouts out as the person with the digital clipboard moves out from in front of the main camera.

An instant groaning commences from the zombies as they finally get to use their undead voices for the first time.  The camera pans in close to the first zombie who bites down on the capsule within his mouth, pushing the thick bloody gunk out to slide down his chin.  His eyes rolling as he staggers towards the camera which pulls back smoothly bringing the whole of the horde into view.

Paco gives his “hard” look.  Narrowing his eyes and tilting his chin up.  Setting his mouth firm and glaring from his eyes.  He breaths in knowing it will flare his nostrils slightly and increase the intense look.

The actress, reacting to a prompt, screams and runs from the side street.  Camera’s swoop out to watch her progress.  The zombies stumble and turn towards her, giving higher pitched growls.  She flails her arms, windmilling wildly, her steps shorter than normal to give her that jerky out of control manner.

Paco takes his “hard” look and converts it smoothly into a look of “confusion”.  What is this? What is this woman doing here? Why is she running into the horde of zombies? He gives his best puzzled frown.  Plunging his eyebrows down and slightly squinting one eye while gingerly lifting his top lip and tilting his head.  The camera was some distance away but he knew it would be zoomed in completely on his face and he held the look for seconds while the girl runs across the road.

‘Hey lady!’ Paco yells in a deep voice, taking a step forward and raising one muscled arm as though to pluck her away to safety.

The woman runs across the street straight into the midst of the horde.  They grab out and take her down onto the pre-cushioned section of road surface.

Paco shifts his look, going from the “yell” to the “terrified” look seamlessly.  He opens his mouth and makes his eyes go wide, again pushing the head back and off to one side.  He knows he’s good at this.  The close up reactions are a strong point of his.

‘My god…’ he says deeply, adlibbing on the spot.

‘CUT!’ Bob yells, ‘HOLD YOUR PLACES.’  Everyone knows what to do.  Paco holds his place, watching with mild interest as the make-up and prop department move in.  The actress is lowered into a pre-set hole in the ground with just her arms, shoulders and head left above ground.  A prosthetic body exactly matching her from the shoulders down is rushed in and laid out perfectly to resemble her own body.  The dress material on the dummies stomach has been weakened to allow it to be ripped open easily.  The smooth skin of the prosthetic mid-section has been made to be torn open and the harmless fake innards, already pre-coated in glistening crimson fluid, were ready to be pulled out and bitten into.  The upper thigh of the right leg was also primed for the flesh to be bitten away.

The crew move quickly as the zombie actors hold their positions, chatting quietly.  The whole process is done within a couple of minutes and they move away leaving what appears to be the actress still lying on the ground with a horde of undead above her.

‘Paco, you wait a few seconds until you get the prompt.  Then you yell out and run down towards them.  Get your speed up and run straight past them, it’s the run up and the action of zombies eating the woman we need.  The fight scene comes after, got it?’

‘Got it Bob,’ Paco replies, bouncing up and down to stretch his leg muscles out.

‘Zombie one, you go for the stomach, bite down and use your hands to tear the flesh open.  Make it good because we get one shot at this.  Zombie two, once zombie one has opened the flesh you get in and scoop some in the innards out, zombie three you go for the right thigh, zombie four you lean back and growl and thrash your head, zombie five you come and drop down to a crawl and start crawling towards them.  I want you all into it, get the blood and gore on your faces and hands.  Splay your fingers and show us the blood, Actress…’ Bob explains, not knowing her name and not caring either, ‘you scream and thrash your hands up and down, let the screaming go on but don’t lift up too high otherwise we’ll see the body is a dummy, keep screaming until they’re all into the stomach and then you die, got it?’  The zombies and actress nod back.

‘Camera rolling…ready…ACTION!’ Bob yells again.  The growling starts instantly as the zombies sway and buck their way closer to the screaming woman.  Paco keeps his terrified look for a few seconds, letting the zombies “eat” into the body.

Zombie one throws his head back dramatically and then lunges down to burrow his face into the skin of the dummies stomach which tears open easily as he pushes his hands in while thrashing his face side to side.  He has done this before and is a well-known zombie actor, having worked on many films and television shows.  He knows the exact amount of thrashing to be done and how to lift his elbows up high to make it look like he’s digging down into the torso.  His face disappears into the flesh as he seeks the big lump he knows is a couple of inches down.  The actress lets rip with an ear shattering screech, shaking her head violently while drumming her hands on the road.  Zombie one comes up with an almost triumphant look, like bobbing for apples.  He holds the meaty chunk in his mouth and uses his hands to smear the fresh wet goo over his face.  Zombie two drops in, using his hands to scoop out the long entrails that look like a string of sausages.  He hungrily shovels these into his mouth while thrashing his head about.  Zombie three, on cue, moves to the right thigh and after gripping the meaty flesh between his gnarled hands he bites down and tears a chunk away, the pre-loaded section bursting blood and gore out onto his face, an arterial spray pumps thick bright red liquid out.

On cue, Paco replaces his terrified look with one of determined action and starts moving towards the woman.  He begins slow, allowing the camera to keep the zoom on his face as he shows the smooth move from terror to action.  He picks his speed up, taking care to pump his powerful arms and lift his manly thighs high while maintaining a determined look on his face.

He gains speed as the zombies all sink down onto the dummy stomach and pull entrails, organs and props out in a frenzy of eating.  The actress screams, thrashes and gradually grows silent to lie twitching in her final death act.  She finishes with eyes open which she regrets, fearing her eyes will water from having to stare without blinking.

Precisely at this point, while Paco is doing his action run, another zombie appears from the back of the street.  The third camera man, in a state of panic thinking he’s missed a vital part of the script, pans in to film the late arrival.  Everyone freezes.  The make-up on this actor is brilliant; the fresh blood round his face, the torn clothing and the jerky staggering motion.  The third camera man zooms in close on the red bloodshot eyes; giving thanks that he’s captured the actor and hoping no one noticed he missed the entrance.

The new zombie jerks and staggers towards the horde on the ground.  Paco, seeing the new arrival and also panicking thinking he had never read the script, keeps running while holding his determined face.  Was he meant to arrive after this new one? Before? Shit.  He curses himself for not getting someone to read the script and tell him what was expected.  Jenny! He would get Jenny to check it and tell him in between dropping to her knees.

Bob, on seeing the new zombie actor quickly raises his clipboard and starts flicking through the notes, frowning at where this had come from.

The head of make-up crosses her arms as a look of thunder spreads across her face.  This wasn’t one of hers.  So who had authorised this? Which union was he from? She wants to shout out but stops herself, knowing that nobody ever shouts out on a “hot-set”.

The new zombie staggers towards the horde on the ground.  They’re unaware of the new arrival and are busy making noises, eating the innards of the dummy while smearing blood and howling into the sky.

Paco slows down and waits, sensing he should arrive just after the new zombie.  He knows they will be able to edit the run so it looks seamless.  For such an organised set there’s a whole pause as everyone checks notes and looks to each other.

The horde feels the arrival of the new zombie as he shoulders his way through them towards the body.  Zombie one glances at the late comer, inwardly cursing at the new one looking even better than he does and he’s meant to be zombie one!  His agent would be spoken to about this.  The new zombie plunges its face into the dummies stomach and starts thrashing about.  The howls turn to groans as it realises the flesh isn’t flesh.  It had seen the feeding frenzy and jumped in, hoping to quench the urge to bite and feed.  This wasn’t flesh.  It was gunk.  It turns slowly towards zombie one as Paco picks his running up again, starting the final sprint towards the horde.

Zombie one looks in horror as the new one lunges at him, pushing him to the floor and taking a chunk from his neck as Paco sprints past with a look of utter confusion on his face as he stares at the zombies.  Are they meant to eat each other?

‘CUT!’ Bob yells, ‘What the hell is going on here, who is that? Why is he attacking zombie one?’

A cacophony of voices bursts out as the head of make-up turns on everyone near her and starts yelling for “who the hell did the new zombie? Camera men shout for copies of the script, demanding to know why they hadn’t been told about the new arrival.  Paco eases his running and turns slowly to stand looking genuinely confused at the zombies still doing their feeding frenzy.

‘YOU!’ Bob shouts pointing his clipboard at the zombies on the ground, ‘WHO ARE YOU? You will never work on any of my sets again, do you hear! You will be blacklisted and out of this industry, you’ll be doing panto for the rest of your life buddy…Hey! Hey stop that now I am talking to you…’

Zombie one couldn’t scream.  His windpipe had been ripped out and he lay choking on his own blood.  The real zombie turns and attacks zombie two frozen in terror at the sight of the angry director charging at them.  Zombie one dies.  Zombie two is savaged.  The director runs into the fray and, in a fit of utter rage, drags the real zombie away from zombie two while screaming abuse and threats.  Crew run in from all sides as the new zombie thrashes in the directors grip.

Bob, not believing that anyone on set would ever defy him, whacks the clipboard round the head of the zombie as it lunges up and bites deep into his neck.  Bob goes down with a gurgled cry and a spray of blood bursting into the air.  People scream.  Paco screams.

‘SECURITY,’ someone yells. The burly black clad figures standing chatting in the distance of the catering truck ditch their coffee’s and started running towards the noise.

Hands grab at the new zombie attacking Bob.  Zombie two dies.  Zombie one comes back to life as cast and crew look down at him.  The poor actress, wedged into place and unable to move screams again and thrashes as zombie one surges up and bites into the face of one of the producers.  The real zombie, gripped by hands and dragged from Bob, kicks and fights like the evil spawn he is.  Biting and tearing flesh open.  The deadly infection passes into the bloodstream of everyone cut and wounded.

Paco stands there rooted to the spot, screaming in terror.  He ignores the look on Jenny’s face as she runs towards the bedlam, staring at him with a look of disgust.  The situation develops quickly with zombie one biting at will, zombie two turning and coming back to undead life to join in with the savage attacks.

Bob the director, bleeding heavily and having been dragged away by several members of the cast slumps down into unconsciousness.  Cast and crew scream in horror as he becomes unresponsive, one of the producers yelling for the on-set medics to get here now.  They arrive, carrying large padded bags and looking good in tight fitting uniforms specially designed for the television and movie industry.  The bags are opened revealing a plethora of equipment as the paramedics rummage through the kit with shaky hands, applying dressing to the gushing neck wound and bending over to shine small pen torches into Bob’s eyes.

‘HE’S GONE,’ the torch shining paramedic bellows very loudly, discarding the torch to tilt Bob’s head back.  He checks the airway is clear and disregarded the breathing apparatus supplied with the kit bags, preferring to use mouth to mouth and knowing that he’d be able to sell his story for thousands later.  The paramedic who gave the famous director mouth to mouth.  Heroically struggling despite the violence erupting around him.  Valiantly fighting to save his life despite the overwhelming odds.  The paramedic knows, regardless of the outcome, that he is now set for life and can milk this for years.  His mind racing with thoughts of the television interviews, shaking hands with politicians and being famous for giving live on screen demonstrations for first aid.

‘I NEED PADDLES…STAT!’ he yells far louder than he needs for his assistant is already rigging the defibrillator up, having set it to pre-charge.

‘COME ON BOB….BREATHE DAMN YOU…BREATHE FOR ME BOB,’ the paramedic thumps the director’s chest dramatically and plunges back down to press his open mouth against the directors lips, exhaling heroically while glancing up to make sure everyone is watching him.  They cheer as the director twitches to life and wraps his arms round the paramedic’s neck, pulling him in close.  The paramedic feels a sudden searing pain as teeth clamp onto the soft tissue of his lips and tears them away with a savage shake.  The paramedic reels back with blood pouring from his ruined mouth.  More screams erupt as the director sits up, opens his red bloodshot eyes and lunges for the juicy calf muscle of the head of make-up standing there still holding her clip-board.  She tries to jump back but Bob grips her ankle with his clawed hands and sinks his teeth in.  The deadly saliva purging from his mouth, into the woman’s bloodstream.  She jerks away and hobbles off wailing in alarm.

The panic makes her heart beat faster and sends the infection into every cell of her body.  She drops down within fifty paces to lie twitching on the floor.  One by one the cast and crew are taken down.

The set was a closed set.  Secret filming of the new Paco Maguire blockbuster being carried out late at night.  Not one person on the set had any idea of the devastation sweeping the outside world and here, as with everywhere else, saw them running in all directions.  The natural instinct to run towards other human beings in trouble, lying on the ground bleeding and injured.  Medical assistance was given, hands pressed into wounds to stem the bleeding.  Phones, that had been strictly controlled and turned off, were activated as trembling fingers dialled the emergency services.

Paco stays rooted to the spot as the devastation explodes all around him.  He screams in terror at the sight of the real blood and gore being torn from real bodies of the real people.  He backs away on shaky legs, gibbering and whimpering with utter blind panic.

‘PACO! Help me…please help me…’ the unknown actress buried in the hole screams in panic, holding her hand out to the movie star.  He stares back in horror, willing her to shut up and not draw attention to him.  The undead hear her screams and start towards her.  She sees them coming, screaming louder, knowing that the strong actor can easily pull her from her position and give her a chance of survival.  He doesn’t.  He backs away and watches in horror as they descend.

Jenny, who just a few minutes before had been taking a part of his body in her mouth, is now taking someone else’s body in her mouth.  Her red bloodshot eyes matched the colour of the glistening blood cascading down her chin.  She turns her head slowly and fixes Paco with a baleful stare.  An intense look of hunger in her eyes as she jerks to her feet and starts staggering towards him.

That was enough for Paco.  He turns and runs.  His strong legs pumping furiously as he pounds down the mock street and away from the lights of the set, into the darkness.

Paco runs through the movie set, passing through varying streets of international design.  Each styled according to the scenes filmed.  He runs through sixties London complete with vintage vehicles.  An Italian Sorrentine piazza complete with café and working fountain.  The building fronts were fakes.  There was nowhere to go other than straight on.  He knows that behind the buildings are snakes of wiring and electrical outlets and, more worryingly, deep shadows.  The thought of running behind the buildings and into the darkness terrifies him even more.

He whimpers and twitches his head round, jumping at every sound.  He follows the sets, not realising he’s looping round in a giant circle and leading back to the point he started.  He is fit and despite the muscle on his frame he is also athletic so keeping a constant jogging pace was easy.  There’s no rational thought process in his mind.  Just utter panic.  Seeing people being killed and ripped apart right in front of his eyes.  He’d sue the studio for putting him danger like that, he’d sue the studio and the companies that provided the sets, the security, the catering, the cast…he’d sue everyone.  He’s Paco Maguire and they put him in danger.  Even the security should have run to protect him first but they didn’t, they ran into the fight and got themselves hurt and therefore unable to protect him.  He’d sue them first.

He loops through a mock bombed out World War Two English street and turns a corner, coming to a sudden stop and staring back down at the lights of the set he had fled from.  Frozen to the spot his eyes sweep across the set and the people still attacking each other.  Blood everywhere, screams and shouts as the few survivors group together and back into a corner.  They’ve armed themselves with bits of metal, chairs, tripods and anything they can grasp.  Paco stares as the advancing horde takes them apart within seconds.  A dark stain forms on his groin as he pisses himself through fear and a small dribble of shit exits his arse as his bowels void.  He has no idea his bodily functions were doing this; such was the fear and panic that steals through his mind.

He turns round with his hands pressed to the top of his head, spinning and spinning as he desperately looks for an exit.  His brain unable to cope with the situation and unwilling to process the information.

The service road.  He needs the service road.  He searches round in blind blithering hysteria, not realising he’s still whimpering and uttering high pitched squeals.  He sees the exit at last and starts towards it, intent on getting to the security gate and finding people who will protect him.  Checking over his shoulder he observes the group of attackers leaving the bodies they had taken down and starting towards him.  He screams and again starts running.  His screams send a message to the horde that had already detected the stench of fear, shit and piss and started after him.

Paco runs fast.  Sprinting down the service road towards the lights of the industrial hangars used for the indoor sets.  The gate is ahead of him and he peers ahead trying to seek out the guards he knew will be there.

The gate is empty and hanging open.  Paco doesn’t hang around to find out why as he races through.  He twists round to check behind him and feels a slight relief at the empty road behind him.  Something snags his feet and he goes down, sprawling over a soft object.  He splays his arms out, grazing his palms on the road surface.  Scrabbling round he recoils at the remains of the guard spread out on the road, the entrails and innards strewn about and looking every bit as good as the prosthetic dummies used on set.  He screams again and crabs backwards, gaining his feet and running towards the hangars.

Bodies strewn everywhere.  Blood pooled and black in the shadows.  He jogs on uttering with fear at every corpse and swerving round them, desperate to avoid being anywhere near the bloodied things.

‘HELP ME!’ A voice pierces the air; he stops abruptly, spinning round trying to see into the gloom.  The voice screams again, somewhere close but unseen.  Someone in pain.  A woman needing help.

He ignores it and runs on.  He’s an actor not a hero, not a cop, not a soldier.  Sure he’d played all of them many times in his movies but he kept the thought in mind that he was depicting them, portraying them.  They were professionals with training and equipment.  They took those risks as part of their chosen careers.  His was acting so why should he put himself at risk.

Groans and howls sound out, echoing through down the narrow alleys between the hangars.  Not one living person to be seen.  He wants to run inside the hangars and find someone, find a phone, find somewhere brightly lit and safe but most of them were locked up for the night.  Those that were open were in darkness and looked too foreboding to enter.

In crazed fear he ploughs on, hurdling over bodies and swerving away from the noises in the shadows.  He hears voices and whimpers, people crying in pain and suffering but his suffering is worse than theirs.  He is world famous.  People need him.  He has to keep going and find someone to protect him.

He reaches the end of the hangars, sweat pouring from his face as he runs out into the lane that leads to the main road and the main entrance.  There will be security at the main gate, always a whole team of them ready to search vehicles.  Paco slows down, his chest heaving and the blood pounding past his ears.  The front of his far too tight top now darkened with sweat and the piss stain still vivid on his tan coloured trousers.  Glancing about nervously he creeps on down the bush lined road.

Howls come from behind him.  He spins round, walking backwards as he watches the end of the hangars and the entrance to the road running between them.  Shadows flitting and growing larger by the second.  The high wall lights cast the silhouettes of the horde running after him onto the side of the hangar.

They stagger into view.  Twisted, gruesome features ravaged by injury and blood soaked, all of them staring at him as they stagger faster now their prey is in sight.

He screams again and starts running, then stops at the sight of the undead guards running towards him from the direction of the main gate.

‘Oh fuck…oh fuck…’ he mutters as the panic rises higher in his stomach.  He flicks his gaze between the horde coming from the hangars and the guards coming at him.  All of them savaged and jerking.  Rooted to the spot he spurts more shit out of his arse as he struggles to think.

Bursting away he surges through the thick bushes, scratching his skin and tearing his t shirt as the sharp branches fight against him. He struggles through to the other side, breaking free and plunging into the almost pitch blackness of the grounds bordering the road.

He staggers on, feet tripping over branches and making far too much noise.  The horde reach the point of his disappearance and start after him, groaning with frustration as they too struggle to push through the thick bushes.

Paco races on, blundering through the undergrowth, running straight, then running left and then right.  He sees a gap in the darkened hedgerow and aims straight for it, jumping through and landing on the road just a short distance up from where he went in.  The now joined hordes are still trying to get through the thick bushes.  Taking advantage of their backs being turned he runs on towards the gate.

Racing round the corner he can see the security hut brilliantly lit against the night sky.  The security barriers are still down but he runs on, hoping against hope that someone living and normal will be there.

Reaching the hut he scrabbles round all sides of the building, staring in at the empty room.  He finds the door and pushes his way inside, wrenching the phone handset and dialling 9-1-1 out of pure instinct.  A loud beeping sounds at him from the receiver and it takes a few seconds to remember he’s in England and the emergency number was 9-9-9.  He presses the buttons and again gets the beeping sound.  He tries again while peering out of the window.  The beeping coming back at him.

A list of essential numbers pinned to the wall and starts with the first one for the head of security.  It’s engaged.  They’re all engaged.  Pressing his face against the window he half screams when he sees the first of the undead staggering into the light just metres from the hut.

Ditching the phone he runs from the building and vaults the downed security barrier with ease.  Running down the small access road and out onto the smooth surface of the main road, he sprints hard, desperate to make distance from the things behind him.  With each step he waits for the hands to pull him back, expecting the twisted fingers of the monsters to take hold of his flesh and pull him to the ground.  Tears pour down his red cheeks and mingle with the sweat that burns his eyes.  His chest heaving for air, his arms and legs pumping furiously.

Five days a week he was in the gym being pushed by the best personal trainers money could buy.  His diet was perfect and he avoided alcohol for months at a time in preparation for the roles he played.  While many of his peers used recreational drugs, he lived on a diet of low fat, complex carbs and high protein.  Steroids were used to give his muscles that extra pump in the weeks before filming, but they were strictly controlled and administered by well-paid doctors.  He was fitter and healthier than the heroes he portrayed on film and he put every ounce of that fitness to use as he propelled himself away from the horde.  Fear gave him extra stamina.  A near hysterical belief that the things were right behind him; they were monsters and would keep going all night.  Nothing would stop them.  They wanted to eat him and take his brains.

His speed starts to ebb away, the adrenalin exhausted and leaving his muscles weak and powerless.  Paco can feel his legs starting to feel rubbery and his breathing becomes uncontrolled.  He knows he has to slow down but the fear keeps giving him extra spurts of energy.  He whimpers and cries out, begging them to leave him, begging for forgiveness and crying out for his mother.

Gradually, step by faltering step he slows.  Stumbling and wracking his body with heaving sobs and sucking air into his lungs.  He windmills his arms trying to drive himself on.  He berates himself, telling himself he’s Paco Maguire, a star.  His body gives up and he collapses to the ground.  On all fours he crawls with snot dripping from his nose, vomit coming from his mouth.  He tastes bile and tries to spit it away, his airwaves becoming clogged and his vision blurring.

He gives up and waits for the first hand to reach out and grab his ankle.  Waiting for the teeth to sink into his skin.

He rolls onto his back and looks up through teary eyes at the stars in the clear night sky.  He sobs, whimpering, flailing his arms pathetically against his own chest.

Nothing happens.  Nothing grabs him.  He glances up and looks down the long straight road that is completely devoid of life.  The moon is high and bright; casting shadows from the tree’s bordering the tarmac.  Nothing moved.  There’s nothing coming after him.  The whole of the road is empty.

Paco Maguire, Hollywood’s most famous alpha male, laid flat out on a country road in southern England on a hot Friday summer evening.  Soaked in tears, sweat, piss and shit he sobbed and wailed.  Too terrified and too exhausted to move.

FOUR

DAY TWO

The dawn sun moves gradually across the wide stretch of undergrowth separating the urban sprawl.  A steady trickle of water meanders over rocks and pebbles.  Birds chirp in the branches.  Within a clearing of the bushes a very large German Shepherd dog lies on her side.  Her long pink tongue hanging from the side of her open mouth.  Her chest rising and falling with each rapid breath.  Her tail twitches listlessly.  Her feet and legs make small running motions as she whimpers softly.

Her eyes open.  Beautiful soft brown eyes with dark pupils and perfect white surrounds.  She sits up and pants heavily, shaking her head from the dream.  She looks about and sniffs at her own legs, deciding that the crusted blood and filth must go she commences an energetic cleaning session, twisting round and gnawing the dirt away.  Her long rough tongue rubbing the dirt from her soft hair.

Finished and she stretches, letting her back legs dip down as she drives her front legs into the ground and elongates her back.  Another shake and she is ready for the day, moving down to the stream and taking a long drink.  She moves through the undergrowth and finds a spot to defecate and deposit her scent.  With voided bowels she turns lazily and sniffs at the steaming pile of faeces.  It smells normal.  So does her scent.

Hungry.  She works her way along the footpath and finds several of the black things left on the ground.  She knew the black things.  The pack leaders always kept them in the garden and then some people invaders would come and take them away.  The black things always smelled good.  She used to open them and eat the insides but the pack leaders made it known this was bad.  But she was hungry and the pack leaders weren’t here.  Out of habit she looked round several times already feeling guilty for knowing what she wanted to do.  She sniffed through them and found one that contained meat and quickly shredded the thin outer layer to rummage through and wolf the food down.

The strange sensation she had during the night left after a few hours and she barely registered the discomfort as she slept and recovered her muscles from the exertion of the previous day.  Now, fed and watered she felt entirely normal, apart from a deep sense of loss from the little one being taken away and the pack leaders changing the way they did.

She left the soft ground and moved back into the hard ground where the people lived.  The stench of death hung heavily in the air.  Scent trails drifting low over the warm ground, as tangible to her incredible sense of smell as colours to the eyes of humans.  She walked slowly, inhaling the odours and working out how many of the things moved through here, how long ago, the direction they went and the gender they were before they changed.  The unique scent they left was one of decay, blood and a negative energy that screamed of a dangerous hunger.

She could smell fear too, fear from the people still living in the area and she knew without conscious thought that if she could smell it, they would too.  It was a real thing accompanied by its own set of signals.  The same as sadness, anger, happiness.  She often sensed the fear in people when they met her for the first time.  Her huge frame, dark face and intelligent eyes made many people very cautious.  But those things didn’t smell of fear.  They were animalistic in their manner.  Moving in pack but not working as a pack.  They didn’t react as a pack when one was threatened or taken down.  They moved in numbers but not together.  She maintained motion, trotting at an easy gait as she worked her way through the streets.

The loss of her pack weighed heavy inside her.  She felt a need to belong, to find her position and work together.  Being alone was hard and it made you weak.

Once more she scented them before she saw or heard them.  Turning into the next street she spied a horde shuffling along.  Their slow and jerky movements and the low growling noises they made.  She tracked them quietly, gradually going lower as she fixed her eyes on the one at the rear.  It was big with strong legs and a wide back.  She recognised the size of the prey and knew it would be harder to take down.  She judged her angle of approach and crept along.  The thing jerked left and right, following a set pattern of movement.

Decision made and she ran forward, using the things solid back and the shelf of its arse to power herself up and take a big chunk from the neck as she bounced off.  A bright spray of crimson blood spurted out as the bite severed the main artery.  The thing kept going for a few steps then slowed, staggered and fell.

The others showed no reaction and kept with their forward momentum.  She tracked the next one and positioned herself once more behind it.  Launching high she powered her front paws into the back and took the thing straight down, landing fully on the things back and tearing the neck open quickly.  She leapt away and took the next one in the same way.  A high jump and using her power and momentum to simply knock it over.  The sharp teeth and quick shake of the head ripped the flesh open and they were dead.

It was easy.

As the morning wore on she perfected the technique.  Tracking the scent of them on the street.  Finding the horde and using her weight to take them down.  She killed men, women and children.  Simply knowing they were not men, women or children.  They were things that would kill the little one if they found him.

The heat wore her out faster than the exertion and she kept having to stop and find water.  Making her way into the open dens of other packs and finding the place they deposited their scent, drinking from ponds, streams and outside taps left dripping.

The taste of the things didn’t bother her.  She did not see them as a food source.  They were prey to be killed.  So she killed.  With each kill she drank the blood as it spurted into her mouth and coated her tongue, some of the flesh was swallowed too.

The infection was ingested time and again.  Infected cells raced through her blood stream, surging through her organs and desperately attempting to do what it was designed to do.

It failed as the anti-bodies in her system killed the infection.  Despite the sustained ingestion and the constant attack she faced; it failed.

The pure blood of the dog was untainted by the foulness.

FIVE

DAY TWO

Paco woke with a start, yelling out and sitting bolt upright, sending the branches and debris flying off in all directions.  He breathed heavily, not knowing where he was and squinting from the bright sunlight pouring through the trees.  Slowly, he gained control and looked about.  He was in a small clearing of a wooded copse.  Nodding with small jerky motions he remembered the previous night and how he crawled from the road sobbing and losing more precious fluid as he cried and cried.

He crawled from the road, through ditches and bushes.  Delving deeper into the woods and further away from the road.  He knew those things would come for him.  They were monsters born from the worst nightmare and they wanted to eat his flesh.  Exhausted and petrified he crawled for what seemed like hours.  He found a stream and remembered something from one of his movies when he played a fugitive on the run from an evil prison warder, his character had gone through water in an attempt to get rid of his scent and stop the prison dogs from tracking him.  Paco wallowed in the shallow water, scrubbing at himself and rubbing the brackish water over every inch of his body.  With a raging thirst after so much running, he even drank some of the foul water and instantly regretted it, spitting it out and making himself retch, bringing more bile up.

Soaking wet he crawled on and found a clearing with dead branches and foliage on the ground.  He was beat, too exhausted to move another step.  Covering himself with the branches and debris from the ground he lay silently, listening in terror at the sounds of the night animals creeping about.  A fox calling for her cubs gave him palpitations and he screwed his eyes closed, praying someone would save him.

With body and mind exhausted he fell into a fitful sleep.  Imagining that if the evil monsters didn’t get him, then wolves or bears would sniff him out and start devouring his legs.  He knew of the famous English weather too and expected to be dead from hypothermia or exposure within a few hours too.

But England doesn’t have wolves or bears, and the weather was very warm, so warm in fact it dried his clothes out while he slept so he awoke to no more discomfort than feeling very thirsty and with a few cuts and bruises on his body.

His body may have only suffered minor discomfort but his mind was a mess and no sooner had he opened his eyes and remembered where he was than the fear once more gripped him.  The images of everything he had seen the night before running through his mind.

The studio would be frantic with worry for him.  There must be police and everyone out searching.  This would be national news; no… it would be international news.

He stood up and patted his pockets down, then remembered he was still in costume for the movie so didn’t have his phone with him.  No wallet either.  But he wouldn’t need a wallet, anybody would recognise him.

The police must have got a grip of whatever happened by now.  Some kind of chemical attack probably.  Terrorists or something.  Yeah, a terrorist attack with chemical agents that made everyone go crazy.  Looking around he searched for the route he came in but everything looked the same.  He had no tracking skills and couldn’t recall the direction he’d came from.  His t-shirt was ripped and his tan trousers were filthy but at least he wasn’t cold.

He set off expecting his legs to be shaky and weak, but they weren’t.  The running had tired him out and he felt a little soreness in his thigh muscles but nothing more than that.  He stretched his arms back and flexed his upper body as he walked.  Getting the blood pumping and the muscles engorged just in case he bumped into any of the search teams out scouring the land for him.

Paco walked all morning.  He walked through the woods, then more woods.  He crossed fields and streams, meadows, rolling hills and pleasant undulating rural land.  But no roads.  His sense of direction was hopeless.  The sun was hot and he worried about getting sunburnt, not wanting to suffer the redness or ruin his perfect flawless skin.

He was also thirsty, ragingly thirsty.  So by the time he found the narrow country road and followed it for a few miles and saw the houses in the distance there was only thing on his mind.  Water.  Ice cold water and lots of it.  It was all he could think off.  It consumed his every thought.  He imagined himself escaping enemy soldiers and running across the parched Sahara desert, finally seeing the dwellings and bursting in like a hero gasping for water.  The home owners would be surprised to see Paco Maguire at their door and sure they’d sell their story for a good buck, but hey who can blame them.  But he’d have to make sure they didn’t take any pictures until he cleaned himself up, that much was fair.

He kept a close eye on the roofs of the houses in the distance and worked his way down the country lane.  The birds were singing and it was a gorgeous day.  Now the end was in sight he almost felt good.  The feeling of escape, of being safe made him giddy.  He would be a true hero now.

Shit, but he’d run away.  The studios didn’t have CCTV cameras anywhere near the filming lots, they were banned simply for the fact someone would sell the footage of the top movies being made.  That meant, if he was the only survivor, that he could give an account of how he tried to fight them off but honestly believed they were sick and he didn’t want to hurt them.  No, that wouldn’t work.  They were killing each other and then chasing him.  Got it! He’d say he led them away; he shouted and abused them to lure them away from the injured people on the set.  They chased him and he kept them going so the others could get help.  Yeah, perfect.

The hedgerow was high but he got fleeting views of the village he was approaching.  It must be afternoon by now.  No cars though, and he’d expected to see helicopters out searching for him.  Maybe he’d wandered far away from the search radius by now.

He followed the gentle curve of the road and smiled as he saw the village just ahead.  It looked small, just a few dozen houses all clustered together and stretching off down the road.

He reached the first house.  An old stone built cottage with a grey slate roof and a pretty garden covered in colourful flowers.  He opened the white picket gate and walked up the narrow path to the wooden door, extending his hand to knock.  The door was slightly open.  He smiled and pushed it carefully.

‘Hi! Anyone home?’ he called out and listened for a response, getting his best smile ready for when the person came to the door and saw the famous actor on the doorstep.

‘Hi, anyone there?’ he called again and frowned when there was still no response.  He pushed the door open and peered into the small quaint hallway.  Stepping in he called and banged on the door.  Nothing.  Whoever lived here had gone out and left the door unlocked.  Still, this was the countryside and hardly the Bronx or South Central.

He walked into the hallway and through a lounge area with floral sofas and china plates on display above the fireplace.

‘Say…anyone there?’ he called again.  He saw another door leading to a kitchen and the thirst took over.  Striding through he found the faucet and turned it on.  No, wait the English call it a tap.  He smirked as he ran his hands under the icy cold water cascading noisily into the stainless steel basin.

A small china cup was upturned on the draining board; he rinsed it out, taking care not to catch someone else’s germs despite the dryness of his mouth.  He filled the cup and drank it down in three big gulps.  The water was perfect.  Cold and soaking into his parched mouth.  He felt the chill as it ran down his throat and into his stomach.  He drank more and kept drinking.  Filling the tiny cup again and again, gulping it down.  Turning his head he saw a pint glass inside a glass fronted cupboard and pulled it out, filling it up and then turned to lean against the sink as he sank it down in big noisy gulps.

The feeling was poetry.  Pure poetry.  He lifted the glass higher and higher, letting some of the water spill from his mouth and down his front.  His head tilted back as the glass was pushed higher and the contents drained into his greedy mouth.  Eyes closed in ecstasy he lowered the glass and gave a big belch.

‘Oh hi,’ he said startled as he opened his eyes and saw the figure standing in the doorway.  Then he took in the details.  The blood encrusted mouth and the red bloodshot eyes.  The ragged wound in the neck and the head lolling from side to side.  There was drool coming from the mouth and mixing with the blood, making little pink trails of spit drip from the chin.

Paco gripped the glass and froze in utter fear as the creature shuffled slowly towards him.  An old lady dressed in a white gown now heavily stained with blood and filth.  He couldn’t back away.  He was already pressed into the kitchen sink.

‘Stay back,’ he yelped in a high pitched voice, ‘please…please stay back….’

The woman shuffled slowly towards him, her movements uncoordinated and jerky.  Walking stiff legged and groaning like a sick dog.

Paco spun round, searching for a way out. The window.  He leant over the sink and pulled the lever up and pushed the window open.  He looked back and cried out as the woman kept coming towards him.  Clambering on the sink he dropped the glass which smashed on the floor and then sent the draining rack and crockery flying as his large bulk forced itself towards the window.  In his panic he tried to go head first but his wide shoulders jammed in the frame.

Crying in fear he turned and twisted sideways, squeezing through as the woman inched closer.  He got his legs out and watched in horror as the woman’s bare feet stepped onto the shards of glass.  He heard the crunch and watched as blood started pouring from her feet. She didn’t even flinch but kept coming.  He cried out again and dropped out of the window, landing in the flower beds of the back garden and backing away from the building expecting her to be clambering out the window after him.

Paco ran onto the lawn and then round in circles as he realised the garden was fully enclosed with a solid high fence on all sides.

He was trapped and panicking.  He ran back across the lawn and saw the patio doors leading into the dining room.  He raced over and pulled them open.  Knowing he had no choice he sobbed as he ran through the dining room and collided with the zombie woman now shuffling into the dining room.  His solid frame sent the little old lady sprawling but he still screamed in utter terror as he hurdled the flailing body, running through the hallway and back out through the front door.

‘HELP!’ He bellowed as he ran through the gate and into the quiet street, ‘SOMEONE HELP…’ He saw figures in the distance and started towards them, then stopped as he saw the same jerky manner of their walking.  The blood stains were clear as day on their pale skin and nightclothes.  Old people.  Lots of wrinkly old people all covered in blood and shuffling in his direction.

The fact that they were slow now didn’t register with Paco.  The mind numbing hysteria that gripped him held him rooted fast to the spot.  A groan behind him and he twisted round to see the woman from the cottage now exiting the gate.  She was in the road just metres from him.  He backed away from her with a look of horror crawling across his face.  Tears once more streaking down his cheeks.

He took several faltering steps before turning and seeing the group of monsters coming from the other direction.  They were quite a distance away and shuffling along very slowly but that didn’t matter.  What mattered was that he was trapped.  The old woman was one side and the other old people were the other side.

He couldn’t escape.  They would get him.  They would lunge and leap, howling like demons and tear him apart.

He sobbed and wailed, stamped his feet and spun one way then the other.  Then he saw the garden path of the next house and the front door standing open.  Without further thought he ran through the garden and into the house.  Slamming the door closed behind him. He ran through the rooms blubbering and knocking into furniture, expecting to see the demon monsters coming at him.  He stumbled through to the back door and out into the garden.  The same high fence but this time he jumped up to look over.  It looked clear.  He clambered the fence and ran from garden to garden, scaling high fences and brick built garden walls.  Running an entire assault course with the speed of a Special Forces soldier.  He didn’t think to get tired.  He was too scared.

He ran, vaulted and climbed.  He ran past garden sheds full of good heavy weapons.  Some of the houses had shotgun cabinets within them.  Every house he passed held weapons and supplies.  He ignored the lot and kept going.  One thought pressing into his panic filled mind.  Run away.  Run away from the monsters.

Minutes later and breathing hard he scaled the last high fence and dropped deftly down onto the verge of another country road.  He scurried about and found the junction of the road he had been on minutes before.  The horde were still there, still shuffling slowly towards the point they last saw him.

A lucky escape.  The monsters almost had him.  He turned and ran.  Heading back into the safety of the countryside.

SIX

DAY TWO

The dog followed the trail through the quiet residential streets.  The stillness of the hot air served to enable her ears to hear better.  The lack of breeze meant the scent trails stayed in situ for a long time.

There were many trails here, all of them heading the same way.  She tracked and moved across the road, sweeping left and right and picking out the many different tracks.  She knew the horde was big so when it came into view it posed no surprise to her.

Outside a den the things were gathered and waiting.  There were people within the den.

She moved to the far side of the hard ground and stared from the shadows of a large tree.  Movement from the den.  High up.  Faces peering out.  A woman holding a little one.  The things wanted the little one.  She sensed their hunger.

A low growl sounded in her throat as she watched the window.  The dog could see the fear on the woman’s face.  She watched closely as another little one appeared next to the woman and looked down at the things.  One pack leader with little ones.  She couldn’t go outside and fight the things or the little ones would be left undefended.  The den entry was blocked.  The things were many in number.

She trotted out into the sun and watched the woman show a reaction.  The woman pointed at the dog and the little one waved.

Instinct kicked in and the dog made noise.  She made loud noise and waited for the things to turn and look at her.  They were slow so she made more noise.  She wanted them to come for her and away from the den.  They didn’t move away from the den so she killed them.  All of them.

She started with the closest and jumped up high to tear the throat out.  Then she leapt from body to body and with each one she got quicker as the method became better practised.  Bodies dropped with jugulars ripped out, blood pumping onto the ground in thick pools.  She worked steadily and felt the heat bearing down on her.  It took time but the work was done.  They were killed and the entrance to the den was made clear.

She moved out from the street and across the hard ground into the shade of the tree.  The smell of blood overwhelmed everything else.  It coated her paws and the front of her coat.  Her tongue was dry and swollen and her chest heaved as she fought for air to cool down.  The woman looked down into the street.  Still holding the little one but with one hand covering her mouth.  The little one stood next to her was waving again.

The woman opened the window and made noise.  The dog knew the tone was friendly so she went closer and looked up.  The woman made more noise.  So did the little one.  She wagged her tail and sat down.  She looked up and continued wagging her tail.  The woman made more noise and went away.  The dog moved back to the shade and rested.  The woman came back and made something fall slowly from the window.  It was big and the woman waved her hands over it.  She went over to the den and watched as the thing came down through the air.  It landed on the ground and she saw it had water inside.  She drank the water.  She drank deeply and felt the coolness of the clear liquid as it quenched the thirst and cooled her.

The dog moved to the den entry point where there was shade and rested out of the sunlight, lying down with her head resting on her paws.

She stayed there for the rest of the day, only moving out when the undead staggered into the street and then returning to drink the water and rest in the shade.  She cleaned herself between kills, licking the blood and gore from her hair.

The single mother inside the house had watched with trepidation as the dog had first appeared and started attacking the things gathered outside.  She thought the dog must be one of them.  Infected with whatever disease that made everyone go mad.  When the dog savaged them all she held her hand to her mouth and tried to cover her son’s eyes while still holding the baby.  As the dog leapt from body to body she realised it wasn’t eating the things.  It was simply killing them.  As the last one fell the dog checked around before moving over to the shade of the front door.  It wagged its tail and barked up at them.  Despite being one floor up she could clearly see the dogs eyes were clear and normal and nothing like the eyes of the things that had been outside all morning.  She found an old plastic bucket and filled it with water before lowering it down, watching with interest as the dog rushed over and noisily lapped the water down with a long pink and normal looking tongue.

All day she watched from the window as the dog moved out and took the undead down before quickly trotting back to the door and drinking from the bucket.  She wanted so much to let the dog in but it was a huge dog, very powerfully built with massive paws and huge white teeth.  They wouldn’t stand a chance if the dog turned inside the house and she couldn’t take that risk, so the door stayed closed.

The bodies were everywhere and the scene grew more gruesome as the day wore on with a seemingly endless supply of the undead shuffling down the road.

She had watched during the night as the street outside her house first became a warzone and then turned into something from a horror film.  She bolted the door and pulled all the curtains closed in the downstairs rooms then taking her children she barricaded herself into her bedroom armed with a large kitchen knife and constantly dialling the emergency services.

By early evening the mother thoughts turned to escape.  Low food stocks in the house and she knew that with two mouths to feed plus the baby they would soon run out.  They needed to get out and find somewhere else.  Find other survivors, or somewhere that had food.  Her car was parked in the narrow lane at the back of the house.  If she could quietly get to the car she could slip away and head away from the town.  As the hordes gathered during the morning her hopes of getting away grew slimmer, simply through fear of opening any doors with such a large mob outside.  But now, with the dog taking them down they could get away.

As the afternoon wore on she busied herself round the house, gathering essential items into rucksacks and bags.  Clothes, sleeping bags, bottles of water and the measly items of food she had in the cupboards.  Cleaning items, soap, toothbrushes all went into bags.  Then she collected photographs and family treasures, jewellery and within a few hours she realised she’d packed enough bags for a long holiday.  She had to do it one journey.  Get from the house to the car with one baby and one small child plus the bags.  She couldn’t risk going back and forth.  She could carry the baby and her son could walk, he could carry a small bag but that meant she only had one hand free.  A rucksack and two other bags.  That’s all she could take from the house.

The bags were emptied and the three chosen ones were set aside.  She wanted to take so much, not knowing when, or if, she would ever be able to come back to the house.  The mother was so busy with the bags and taking care of the children she failed to realise the evening sky was darkening.  The shadows lengthened and became deeper.

Walking into her dark bedroom she instinctively reached out to turn the light on.  The room filled with an orange glow as she passed the still open window, brushing her hair back from her face while frantically thinking of how to fill three bags with everything they needed.

A sudden spine tingling howling noise snapped her back to reality.  The air was filled with guttural whines of undead lifting their faces to the inky black sky and joining in verse.  Realising the folly of her actions she scurried back and thumped the light switch, missing the first time and striking it again.  The room plunged into darkness with just the glow from the street lights casting their sickly hue into the house.

The mother rushed to the window and looked out, the street was even more littered with bodies now.  The dog had stayed there this whole time, killing every undead that shuffled into view.  Now the ground was covered in corpses, blood, filth and twisted remains.  She leant down and saw the dog standing up, it looked tense and was staring with its head cocked to one side, ears flicking and twitching, the hairs on its immensely broad back were standing up.

There wasn’t a living thing in sight but the howls were coming from all directions.  She’d left it too late.  There was no way she could go now in the dark.  She left the window and ran back into the house, gathering her children and hastily snatching snack food and bottles of water.  She got back in the bedroom and closed the door, once more pushing the wardrobe and chests of drawers to block the entrance.

With her heart hammering in her chest she slumped down against the wall and held her baby tight.  Her son cuddled up to her whimpering softly, she stroked his head and made low soothing sounds.

Then the baby woke up, opening his eyes and realising he was wet and hungry.  He needed changing and a feed.  The baby did what all babies do and let rip with an ear piercing scream.  The mother’s heart dropped into her stomach at the noise as she searched round feeling for the pacifier and trying to shove it into the baby’s mouth.  The baby was having none of it. He wanted food and the wet nappy taking off.

The mother quickly unbuttoned her shirt and pulled her bra down, exposing her breast and guiding the baby onto the nipple.  It clamped on hungrily and thankfully went quiet.  But the damage was done.  As the howls had finished from outside, the baby had continued and all around the area undead ears pricked and turned at the sound of a succulent child screaming into the air.

The dog listened intently as the howls of the things split the air apart.  Getting to her feet she sensed the change, the atmosphere became charged.  Their energy was back, they would be fast again.  Her acute hearing picked the individual voices out, pinpointing the closest ones and the direction they would be coming from.

Another sound joined the fray.  The sound of a little one crying out inside the den.  Not her little one, but another little one.  Her own little one had once made noises like that when he was hungry or wet.  The howling of the things ended but the noises from the little one continued.

She moved down the path and onto the street.  They would hear the little one.  They would be coming.

The dog glanced back up at the den and through the open window she could hear the little one eating.  The sounds of contented gurgling and swallowing.

Sadness plucked at her heart.  Her own little one gone now, gone far away with a new pack.  Her pack leaders dead.

They came from the left first.  A running horde coming straight towards the house.  She heard them before she saw them.  Sounds from further away to the right.  They would come from both sides but the left would be first.

Her head lowered and she showed teeth.  A deep bass growl sounding in her throat, it grew in pitch and volume as she pulled the lips back further.  The wolf in her was ready.  Her heart rate increased, flooding her muscles with adrenalin.  Her eyes fixed, ears pricked.

The domestic pet snarled and made noise.  She filled her lungs and made loud noise.  This is my ground.  Look at the ones I have killed already.  Look around and see my destruction.  See what waits for you.

As the horde came staggering into view she moved off with long fluid strides, a streak of darkness thundering through the street.  Her eyes fixed on the thing in front.  It was a male.  Big and strong.  It showed teeth.  It growled as it charged at her.  They all growled.

She growled back and leapt high into the air.

SEVEN

DAY TWO

Still snivelling, Paco kept a fast pace thundering through the English countryside, constantly glancing over his shoulder convinced that hordes of the monsters were chasing him or were lying in wait somewhere ahead.

Like many people from big countries, Paco had a pre-conceived idea that England was a small country and that translated that everything in it must be small.  Small roads, small houses, small towns, small cars.  So that meant the countryside must be small too. But now, after plodding aimlessly about for hours on end he realised just how large the rural areas really were.

By afternoon he found a road but having no idea what direction he was travelling, or if it was the same road he decided not to travel on it, but rather skulk alongside it keeping to the fields and bushes.  Several times he had to come of the undergrowth when prevented from making headway by natural barriers such as thorny thicket hedges.  When he did emerge he did so tentatively, almost tiptoeing on the tarmac to avoid making noise with his footsteps.

He grew thirsty again as the hot sun burned down onto his exposed head and arms.  Hunger pangs kicked in, this being the first time in years that he hadn’t been given exactly the right amount of food at exactly the right time.

Sticking with the road he wound further into the deep countryside, the thickets of trees grew thicker, the grass longer, the fields bigger.  This was farming country proper with not a village or town in sight.  He crested hills and dropped down into shallow valleys.

By early evening he was getting desperate, knowing that the night was only hours away.  Staying on the road, Paco kept his eyes up and scanning.  A pheasant bursting from the bushes in a flurry of wings and twigs sent him diving into a ditch with a loud yelp, only to emerge shaking and cursing himself for crying out and drawing attention to himself.

He almost missed the opening to the dirt road, having established a walking method of turning his head left then right, up then back over his shoulder.  He was so focussed on listening and watching for the monsters he came to a startled stop on seeing the lane and the faded old sign post for Willow Trees.

‘What the goddamn is Willow Trees?’ He muttered quietly.  Is it a place? A house? A village? Why can’t the English put proper signs up and post boxes like normal countries?

It had to be something.  A signpost always pointed at something.  And right now, something was better than nothing so entered the shaded dirt road and gingerly made his way along.

The lane twisted and turned in true English style, with oppressive high hedgerows on both sides he felt hemmed in.  The heat was unbearable.  His mouth was parched and his stomach made noises, demanding to be fed.

As with the village, Paco spied the roof for some time before actually gaining a view of the building.  Winding his way through the lane he gradually came into sight of another stone built cottage standing alone in a clearing, outhouses and old sheds bordered a stony garden area.

He crept forward, slowly placing one foot in front of the other and viewed the house.  It was more functional looking than the stone built houses in the village.  They were pretty and decorative with nice flower beds and white net curtains in the windows.  This was plain looking with weeds growing from the cracks where the bricks met the ground.  The path to the front door looked clear and even in his panicked state he realised this meant someone lived here.  Staying low he shuffled forward and frantically scanned the area, straining his ears for any noise.  Nervously glancing at the sky and trying to guess the time and how long he had until the sun went down.

Making a decision to keep edging forward he moved out from the end of the lane into the open area, heading slowly towards the house.  Halfway across he froze in terror and stifled a scream at the sight of a body lying half out of one of the outhouses, a pitchfork standing upright with the prongs buried deep in the corpses head.

Paco went to run back, then panicked and decided to run to the house.  But whoever killed that man might be in the house so he turned and started back to the lane again.  But that dead man would probably be one of the monsters, which meant someone brave was here, someone who could kill them with a pitchfork, someone who could protect him.  He about turned and ran back towards the house.  But what if they were a psycho? It could be like that film about the author man who got his legs chopped off by the crazy fan woman in the deep country.  Gibbering with fear he once more about turned and started back towards the lane.  But that would mean another night out in the open with those monsters roaming the land seeking him out to eat his brains.  That was more than he could take so he once more stopped and headed back to the house, coming to a full stop at the sight of the woman stood in the doorway holding a shotgun.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ She called out, ‘running back and forth like a madman!’ Paco stayed still taking in the full bodied figure of the young woman.  Blond hair pulled back into a loose ponytail and wearing tight jeans, an open checked shirt and a white vest top underneath which showed off her ample cleavage.  She was beautiful but was also holding a shotgun, which was pointed right at him.

‘Hi,’ his voice quavered in fear so he coughed and took a breath, the consummate actor preparing to cover his nerves, ‘sorry I had dust in my throat,’ he smiled and stood up straight, ‘I er….wasn’t sure if anyone was here, then I saw the body and well….’ He smiled sheepishly.

‘You’re that actor aren’t you? She said suspiciously.

‘Yes Ma’am, I am that man,’ he bowed his head and held his hands away from his body.

‘Well what the bloody hell are you doing here?’ She asked.

‘We were filming in the studios near here,’ he took a step forward and stopped as the barrel of the shotgun lifted a few inches, ‘whoa! Take it easy lady…the film set went crazy like everyone attacking each other…’

‘How did you get away then?’ She asked bluntly.

‘Well I…I tried to lead them away, there were some injured people and survivors so I kind of made a hell of a lot of noise and made those…those things come after me…I left the studios and then kind of got lost in the countryside…’

‘I see,’ she replied, clearly thinking of what to do now.

‘Ma’am may I ask, is this…this thing…is it just here or what?’

‘Everywhere,’ she replied instantly.

‘What do you mean everywhere,’ he took another step forward as his stomach dropped into his shoes, she didn’t lift the shotgun again seeing the look of fear on his face and guessing he had no idea what was going on if he’d been lost since it began.

‘It’s everywhere,’ her tone was softer now, ‘the whole world probably.’

Paco reeled in shock, his hands going to his face.  His legs felt rubbery and weak, ‘how…how do you know that?’ He asked quietly.

‘It was on the news.  It’s everywhere.  Then the telly stopped working.  The phones are down, no television, no radio, nothing.  Internet is gone too…the power is still on.’

‘Jeesh,’ Paco shook his head taking it in.  Convinced that this was a localised event and truly believing he would be safely on a plane home within a couple of days. ‘What about the States?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said softly, ‘it started in Europe and seemed to sweep across within a few hours.  Then he turned up so I figured it was here too.’

‘He?’ Paco asked confused.

‘Him,’ she nodded at the outhouse and the body with the pitchfork through its head.

‘Oh…him…was he one of the monst….er…things?’

‘Yes, he came this morning and caught me off guard but he was moving slowly, not like the ones on the telly last night.’

‘Yeah,’ Paco nodded, ‘they were fast last night but I saw some today who were all slow.’

‘I thought you said you’d been lost in the woods all day?’ She eyed him again.

‘I am…I mean I was…I found a village some miles away but it was crawling with the…well the things I guess.’

‘Village? Was it a long road with houses on both sides? Stone cottages…lots of flowers in the front garden?’

‘Yeah that was it,’ Paco nodded.

‘Crawling was it?’ She asked, ‘I know that place, the youngest person living there must be seventy…’

‘Hey lady, trust me it was packed with those things, like wall to wall…’ Paco lied.

‘Shit,’ she spat, ‘I was going to head for there.’

‘Really? I wouldn’t do that now if I were you, it’s…well it’s gone.’

‘Figures,’ she tutted and lowered the shotgun, ‘well you look like you could do with a drink, come inside.’ She turned and disappeared through the open door.  Paco swallowed his nerves and started after her, entering the darkened hallway of the cottage and watching the back of the woman walk down the hall and into the kitchen at the back.  He followed her into the kitchen and looked in amazement at the pots and pans all filled with water and covered with film.  Every available receptacle had been used and were scattered over the worktops and large table in the middle of the floor.

‘Is the water off?’ He asked.

‘Not yet but I thought I’d better get prepared in case it does,’ she replied, ‘help yourself,’ she nodded to the sink and handed him a big ceramic mug.  He nodded and reached the tap within a second, turning the flow on and filling the mug.  He downed the contents and kept going, filling and drinking.

‘Thirsty then?’ She asked.  He nodded back with the cup pressed to his

‘Can I wash up?’ He asked the woman who was stood the other side of the table watching him closely.

‘Wash up? There’s nothing to wash up.’ She replied with a frown.

‘What?’ He asked.

‘Why would you want to wash up? You’ve just got here?’

‘Sorry I’ve been running all night and day, I feel filthy and the sweat has dried on my skin…’ he explained feeling confused.

‘Oh! You mean you want to wash? Like wash your face?’

‘Yeah, wash up,’ he shrugged.

‘We call that washing here, washing up is when you clean the dishes after eating food,’ she shook her head.

‘Oh, my mistake,’ he smiled his coy smile and looked down at the floor, giving it his best slightly embarrassed look.

‘There’s a bathroom upstairs if that’s any better for you,’ she smiled brief and quick, just a show of teeth and with no humour from the eyes but the gesture was there.

‘Thanks, say what’s your name?’ Paco asked as he started towards the door.

‘Lucy and yours?’ She asked in return making him frown.

‘Er…Paco, its Paco Maguire,’ he replied.

‘Course it is! Sorry I couldn’t remember.  Not really into the whole action movie thing.  No offence,’ she said plainly.

‘No none taken,’ he smiled and moved down the hallway.  How can anyone not know my name? I’m the most famous man in Hollywood at the moment.  Even if she didn’t watch my movies she would have seen me in magazines and newspapers.  He climbed the bare wooden staircase taking note of the ramshackle appearance of the house.  The walls chipped with long faded paint, the bannister worn smooth with several sections missing.  Reaching the top he walked slowly down the hall, peering into the bare rooms.  Only one of them has furniture consisting of a large brass double bed and a chest of drawers.  Suitcases and bags stacked along the wall, the tops open with the contents on display.  Some clothes on the bed.

In the bathroom he stood in front of the stained sink and turned the tap on.  The water gushed out filling the room with noise.  A single toothbrush in an old glass, a tube of toothpaste on the side.  Stripping his torn, filthy and far too tight top off he body washed in the cold water, using a flannel and a bottle of shower crème found on side of the old bathtub.  He soaked the sweat and dirt away from his skin, rubbing at his armpits and all over his upper body.

He toed the door closed and stripped his boots and trousers off.  The water from the stream washed most of the shit away but they still smelled bad.  He took the clothes to the bathtub and used the bigger taps to scrub the trousers and top, concentrating on the rear section and the brown stains left there.

Paco stripped his boxers off, repulsing from stench coming from them.  Urine and shit mixed with days old sweat.  He scrubbed his groin and arse, rubbing the flannel down his legs and washing between his toes.

Finished, he wrings the clothes out, his muscles bulging with exertion as he twists the material round and applies pressure before shaking them out to get rid of the creases.

He tried putting the clothes back on, but despite the heat of the day, the cold wetness of the clothes clinging feeling turned his stomach.  Glancing round he saw a flimsy white cotton gown on the back of the door and squeezed his frame into it.  The gown barely covering his modesty and the sleeves ending just below his elbows.

Taking his bundle of wet clothes he walked back down the stairs hoping the woman won’t be offended at him washing his clothes and using her gown.  Maybe he should have asked first?

‘Say Lucy, I hope you don’t mind but I rinsed my clothes out,’ he called ahead.

‘That’s okay, you looked a state…’ she stopped dead at seeing his hulking frame squeezed into her gown, a mixed look of confusion and humour etching onto her face.

‘Er…it’s all I could find,’ he lifted his eyebrows apologetically.

‘No, that’s fine,’ she replied with a widening smile, ‘I don’t think I’ll have anything that fits you.’

‘These should dry quickly, can I put them somewhere?’

‘Yeah, here let me,’ she stepped forward taking the clothes from him and glancing at his heavily muscled chest.  He noticed the look and smiled shyly, making a point of holding his head down so he could look up at her, knowing this particular look made him look sweet and vulnerable.

‘Did you find everything you needed? I’ve got a spare toothbrush if you want it? It’s new, still packed and everything.’ She turned away cursing herself for getting caught looking at his chest like that.  Being a buxom woman she knew what it felt like when men stared directly at her boobs and not her face and she’d effectively just done the same thing.  Shit, she might as well have stared at his groin.

‘Say that’ll be great Lucy,’ he replied sincerely, ‘I used the flannel and shower crème, I rinsed it out though,’ he added quickly.

‘I’ve made you a coffee, thought we’d better make use while the power’s still on.’

‘Great! Er…you think the power will go soon?’

‘No doubt about it Paco, if the phones are down, the telly stations and radio stations are off so we’ve got whatever is left in the pipe I should think.’

‘The pipe?’ He asked puzzled.

‘Figure of speech, whatever juice is left flowing from the power stations…that’s all we’ve got.  They’ll have shut down fail-safes with no personnel in them; I should think it’ll be today or tomorrow at the latest.’

‘Goddamn,’ he sighed, ‘what then?’ He asked following her through the kitchen and out the back door to watch as she pinned his clothes on a washing line.

‘Then?’ She replied without looking, ‘we’ll be without power,’ she shrugged.

‘What….well what’ll we do?’ He asked feeling the panic rising again and desperately trying to swallow it down.

‘Do?’ She said, repeating his last word back to him again, ‘cope I guess.  There’s a wood stove here and enough food for a couple of days.  The water supply doesn’t rely on power so that will last a lot longer.  The only problem I can foresee with that is if it gets infected.’

‘Infected?’ He stared at her back in horror.

‘Yeah, if those things get into the water supply then it will get infected.  It’s mostly a closed system but there will be points that people can fall in or get into it.’

‘Jesus,’ he muttered, ‘no power, no water…’

‘Nope.  Back in the dark ages but worse.’

‘Worse? How can it be worse?’

‘Zombies Paco, lots of zombies everywhere.  Lots of scared people too, lots of guns and weapons and millions of people not having a clue how to survive without a microwave or oven.’

‘Zombies? Seriously…you think those things are zombies?’

‘What else would you call them?’

‘Hell I don’t know, terrorists or…diseased, or crazed savages but not zombies.’

‘You say you saw them attacking other people? On your movie set right?’

‘Well yeah but…’

‘How were they attacking them Paco?’

‘Well yeah but…’ he repeated.

‘They were biting the other people weren’t they? They were biting them and then trying to find more people to bite.  And the ones that got bit, did they stay dead? No, I bet they didn’t.’

‘Lucy come on! Zombies? This is the twentieth century…’

‘It’s the twenty first century,’ she said with a glance, ‘call them what you want but I call a spade a spade.’

‘Hey that’s racist,’ Paco replied quickly.  Lucy stopped mid-stretch as she was about to pin his last trouser leg in place, shaking her head and not quite believing what she just heard.’

‘No.  The word spade used in an abusive term is racist; otherwise the word spade refers to the implement used to dig.  The racist term dates from the 1920’s, the original phrase of the saying dates from something like the fifteenth century.’

‘Oh…’

‘But anyway, whether you want to call them zombies or not is up to you, but either way I’d suggest they want to eat your flesh and make you one of them.’

‘That’s gross,’ he shuddered, looking ridiculous stood there in the flimsy gown and having to hold it closed or risk showing his bits off.

‘Reality,’ she said brusquely.

‘How do you know these things?’ He asked meekly.

‘How does anyone know things, they listen and take things in.  I read books, watch documentaries…I don’t know…I just kind of know.’

‘Sure,’ he realised how weak he was coming across and made of point of standing straight and affecting a serious, slightly hard look, which wasn’t easily passed off in the feminine gown.

‘Let’s get that coffee before it gets cold.  I didn’t sugar it, I guessed with a body like that you wouldn’t pollute it with sugar.  Wasn’t sure about milk either but we’ve only got powdered milk anyway.’

‘Black is fine,’ he said quickly following her back into the kitchen and feeling a bit better at the body like that compliment.

Inside the kitchen she handed the coffee over and sat down in a wooden hard backed chair at the table.  Going to sit down too he realised that everything would be on show and quickly stood back up to back away and lean casually against the side.

‘So you’re here alone then?’ He asked carefully, not trying to sound threatening in anyway but wanting to know her circumstances.

‘Yes,’ she nodded, ‘I bought this place a few months ago. I worked in the city but had enough so I bought this to do up and live peacefully.  Only moved in a few weeks ago, hadn’t even started doing anything yet.  So much for that great plan.’

‘What did you do? In the city I mean?’

‘Finance, it was a shitty job in a shitty world full of shitty people that were greedy, I hated the city, hated just about everything.  Figured the change would be good.’

‘I think it might have just saved your life, I mean if this is everywhere then the cities will be far worse than here.’

‘True, that’s what I’ve been saying to myself since yesterday anyway.’

‘Family?’ He asked and instantly regretted it seeing the dark look cross her face.

‘Of course,’ she replied flatly, ‘and you?’

‘In the States.  Parents, brother…cousins…’ his voice trailed off as he sought to absorb everything that was happening.

‘It might get better,’ she said kindly on seeing the emotions in him, ‘you never know.’

‘Guess so,’ he said quietly, ‘not likely though huh?’

‘Not really,’ she shrugged, taking a sip of the coffee and sighing.

‘Is it okay me being here? I mean I was worried about the night coming and being outdoors with those things everywhere.’

‘Well you’re here aren’t you?’

‘I just didn’t want you to feel threatened by me.’

‘Threatened? Of what? Are you going to rape me Paco? The shotgun is over there and it doesn’t have any bullets anyway.  I only grabbed it for show.’

‘Rape you? God no Lucy, I wouldn’t ever do something like that,’ he spluttered.

‘Slow down big guy, I wasn’t saying you were going to rape me.  Only that there isn’t much I could do about it if you wanted to.  Look at the size of you.’

‘What?’ He said struggling to keep up with the logic and how they got onto this subject, ‘no Lucy I wouldn’t do that.’

‘Yeah you just said that,’ she replied staring at him, ‘well if you do feel like raping me then just ask, I’ll probably give it to you willingly if it saves you beating me.  Unless you’re into beating women as well as raping them.’

‘Hey can we stop this, I don’t rape anyone.  I’m not doing anything. Hang on…did you just say you wanted to have sex with me?’ He asked.

‘I said no such thing,’ she protested.

‘You said you’d give it willingly,’ he said with a frown and rubbed his head with his palm.  The stress was too much.  He was alone in a country he didn’t really understand, with no way of getting home and was now in a cottage in the middle of nowhere with a beautiful but strange woman talking about rape and beating.

‘I said…’ She explained, ‘that if you want to rape me then just ask, I’ll let you do it so you don’t beat me.’

‘Let me? Beat you? Lucy I…I don’t want to rape or beat anyone, can we change the subject please.’

‘Alright tetchy,’ she sighed and shook her head, tutting noisily, ‘honestly some people,’ she muttered.

‘Great coffee,’ he said to change the subject, feeling very creeped out.

‘Glad you like it,’ she smiled suddenly, ‘you making the next one? We might as well before the power goes.’

‘Er…yeah sure, I can do that,’ he replied, ‘er…how?’

‘The kettle is filled just switch it on and fill the cups.  The coffee is in that jar.’ He took her coffee mug from her outstretched hand and turned to figure his way through making instant coffee with a kettle for the first time in years.

Lucy watched his form as he worked, admiring his deeply bronzed and toned calf muscles and the shape of his narrow waist spreading up and out to his wide shoulders.

Should be an interesting night she mused to herself.

EIGHT

DAY TWO

She destroyed the first one quickly.  Tearing its throat out and leaving the body still teetering on the spot as she landed amongst them.  She bit into legs, shredding hamstrings and Achilles tendons and making the things fall to the ground.  She jumped high and used her weight to drag the bodies to the ground and rip them apart.

She had to move fast.  They were still heading towards the den.  She worked with devastating speed and accuracy.  Shredding their flesh and bringing them down.  She knew she could disable them and make them go slower and then have time after to finish them off.

Snarls and deep growls filled the air, along with thumps after thump of bodies slamming into the ground and the dog jumping deftly away to find another victim.

The pack from the left were dealt with and she span round, cocking her head and listening to the drumming footsteps of the horde coming from the other direction.  With a final savage bite at a crawling thing she moved off.  Once more going low and becoming a streak of flattened ears and dark fur.

She caught them yards from the entrance to the den, more here than the last lot.  They were frenzied and again she sensed the energy in them, the hunger, the desire to feed.  She fought her way through their legs, lashing her big head left and right and biting deep into the backs of legs, shaking with each bite and tugging the bodies down.

The things were stumbling and tripping over their fallen kind.  It slowed them down but it made her faster as she used the downed bodies as stepping stones to gain height to leap from.  It worked well and added another tactic to her rapidly evolving method of killing.

Pure instinct drove her on.  Kill after kill and as fast as they poured into the street they died.  They didn’t turn or try and attack her but instead sensed the feeding frenzy of the horde that there was food here.  That incessant urge to feed, to bite and tear human flesh pushed them on.

The mother sat holding her sleeping baby with her free arm pushing the small boy’s head into her stomach to block the sounds of death coming through the still open window.  Tears streaked her face as she prayed over and over again that the dog would stay alive and defend them.  She heard the growls, the snarls and the barks.  She heard the thumps as the bodies hit the ground and she heard the wet tearing sound followed by the gurgling as blood poured into the open windpipes of the downed things.

The dog was alive.  With a beating heart that pumped blood to her muscles and made her lungs suck air in.  The night was hot but the sun was down and she took what opportunity she could to take water from the bucket.  Her eyes fixed on the path, daring the things to enter her ground.

For every one that entered the street she made noise and urged them to see what she had done, see her destruction and come at their peril.  She would not give up.  She would not sleep or rest while these things came for the little ones in this den.  For if they took these little ones they would find her little one, and for that she would kill them all or die trying.

All across the land, the country, the continent and the world brave men and women stood their ground and defended what was theirs.  They defended their lives, their families; they took revenge for the ones they had lost.  They chose not to run or flee but to stand the line and stare down the horror that came for them.  The cost of freedom, to live how they chose, to die how they chose.  With weapons and fighting with their bare hands, teeth snarling, eyes alive, anger coursing their systems they stood their ground and defended their packs.

She fought with pride and courage.  A beast of strength and speed and with a mouth full of vicious teeth.

She stood her ground, and she didn’t fail.

NINE

DAY ELEVEN

‘Blowers and Cookey, you get the Saxon back down here and kitted up, show Tom and Lani round it so they’re familiar.  Dave will give you a hand to get the GPMG rigged up again,’ in the main room of our quarters early morning and the sunlight is pouring through the open door.  The few hours of solid sleep have refreshed all of us.

Lani had woken up before me and was out of the room by the time I stirred and roused my sleepy head, staggering out to find her brewing a load of coffee’s up and she greeted me with a big smile.

Our privacy was short lived as we were joined by Blowers and Cookey.  Cookey moaning noisily at the smell of Blowers’ farts.  Their noise soon woke the others and they drifted into the room scratching arses and yawning.  Apart from Dave who looked as alert as ever, that man doesn’t change.

With muted tones we drank the coffee and Nick soon excused himself to head outside for a smoke and was quickly joined by the other lads.  The sight of the sunlight drew us all outside and we stood about sipping from our mugs and looking at the inside of the fort.

Big Chris has worked fast.  The interior had been damaged from the big battle, fires breaking out from the flaming bodies and debris sent over the walls from the housing estate going up.  Many of the tents had been damaged but he’s had them pulled down and new ones erected.

There are far less people here now, the losses we suffered from the fight has reduced the numbers drastically.  But that gives more space and I can see he’s kept to the method of keeping clusters of tents together around one structure used for cooking.  The guest centre still stands in the middle and I wonder if there have been any changes made to that.

People move about quietly between the tents, children cry out, small groups stand talking.  Soft plumes of smoke rising up from the cigarettes smoked.  Moving away from the side of the fort I look up to the front walls and the Saxon still left in the same position we left it in.  The memory of Tucker bringing the trays of food fills my mind, the last meal we all ate together, sat up there waiting for it to start.

Guards patrol now, armed with shotguns, rifles and several of the archers patrol with their bows held ready in their hands.

Re-fuelled with coffee we get ready for the coming day.  All of us were worried about what the future held, if we would stay together, and for us – coming back to the fort was like the end for us.  But in reality we had a short sharp shock as Doc Roberts made it clear we were needed to get urgent supplies.  This isn’t the end.  Jesus, there will be something to do every day from now.  This will never end.

‘Howie, we’re having a meeting in the police rooms in ten minutes,’ Chris says walking towards us.

‘And good morning to you too Chris,’ Clarence mutters.

‘Ah what’s up? Has the big man not had his eggs and soldiers this morning?’ Chris laughs.

‘Have we got eggs?’ Nick asks quickly, ‘I’m starving.’

‘You’re always starving,’ I reply, ‘what’s the meeting about? I thought we were heading straight out for supplies.’

‘That’s what the meetings about; hey this is the modern world.  Nothing gets done without a meeting, bring a bean bag so we can sit round in a circle and hold hands,’ he laughs striding off.

‘We don’t all have to go, do we?’ Cookey asks, ‘we’ll get the Saxon and our stuff ready.’

‘Yeah, makes sense.  Dave and Clarence, you come with me, the rest crack on.’

‘Thank god for that,’ Cookey replies with a smile of victory.

‘Or maybe you should go and the rest of us will get the Saxon ready,’ I say with a smile.

‘Oh no Mr Howie, they need the bosses not the grunts,’ Cookey jokes.

‘Grunts!’ I laugh at the expression.

Leaving the lads and Lani to sort everything out, the three of us stroll down the camp towards the police offices.

‘It’s funny how we have to have names for things, like the rooms where the police officers worked from, they’re now the police offices, like we still have a police force…or offices for that matter,’ I give voice to my thoughts as we walk slowly along.  People are waking up now, stepping out of their tents and watching us as we walk through.

‘Human nature,’ Clarence replies.

‘Dave you alright mate? You’re very quiet this morning.’

‘I’m fine Mr Howie,’ he replies staring back into the middle of the fort and the now large crowds of people watching us walk through.

‘What are they all staring at?’ I whisper through the side of my mouth.

‘Us. You,’ Dave says bluntly.

I make a point of nodding at a few of the people as we pass, they nod back and we get a few waves too.  Reaching the office we find it already packed out and squeeze into the back of the room.  Well Clarence squeezes and we just follow in his wake.

‘Howie!’ Ted’s voice booms out and the crowded room melts back to show Ted striding forward with his hand held out.

‘Ted!’ I greet the man and grasp his hand; he pulls me in for a hug and pats my back in a manly fashion.

Looking round I see Sergeant Hopewell, Terri and Jayne are here too and I smile at them, genuinely pleased to see them.  Then I remember Steven and a sudden feeling of guilt passes through me.  Here I am walking in like a prick and smiling after they’ve lost one of their team.  The look must have translated on my face because they move forward and surround us.

‘I’m so sorry about Steven…’ I start explaining, looking round at their faces.

‘We heard,’ Sergeant Hopewell cuts in, ‘but he made a choice Howie.  It was his choice to go with you.’

‘I know but…’

‘No buts, Steven was a wonderful man and he will be remembered.  We will honour him and everyone else we’ve lost but now is not the time to dwell.  We can’t ever expect to get through something like this and not suffer loss,’ she steps back and looks round at the room at large, ‘we’ve all lost, and we’ll lose more but now we have work to do, lots of work to do.’

Her tone sets the mood and makes it known this is about business.  The lines on her face look deeper, bags under her eyes too.  She still wears her police sergeant uniform; it even looks clean and pressed.  Her shoes are shiny too.  I glance over and see Ted is the same.  Smart uniform and clean shoes.  Clean shaven too.  Maintaining standards in the face of such adversity but it’s good to see.

‘How’s Tom?’ Terri asks quietly.

‘He’s great, he’s outside getting our gear prepped with the others.  He fits in well, fights like a lion,’ I reply.

‘If we don’t get to see him say hi from us,’ the normally quiet Jane cuts in quickly.

‘Yeah course I will, but you can see him once we’re done here.’

‘Hello Howie,’ a strong female voice sounds from behind me.  I turn to see Kelly stood there with a tight smile.

‘Kelly, good to see you again,’ she takes my hand in a grip as firm as Ted’s.

‘You too, glad you’re back safely.’

‘How’s it been here?’ I ask.

‘ORDER PLEASE,’ Sergeant Hopewell shouts from the end of the room.  We look round to see her holding a clipboard and staring round at the room.  The muted conversations die out just as Chris walks in.

‘Sorry, have I missed anything,’ he squeezes through to join Sergeant Hopewell at the end of the room.

‘No, we’re just starting,’ Sergeant Hopewell replies.

‘Make way please,’ Doc Roberts walks in and instead of politely squeezing through he simply shouts and barks everyone to move. ‘Right, let’s get on with it shall we, got a lot to do.’ He blusters.

‘Right.  Mr Howie and his group got back safely last night,’ Sergeant Hopewell starts off and I wince inwardly at being called Mr Howie in a room full of people.  Not just people but doctors, engineers and police officers.

‘Chris has done a bloody hard job while we’ve all been away and I understand you’ve appointed Kelly to sort the outside area out?’ She asks, looking first to Chris and then to Kelly.

‘I did,’ Chris nods, seemingly comfortable in front of the people watching him.

‘I think if everyone is in agreement, we’ll have a quick round robin so we know where we all are, Chris do you want to start?’ I catch a look on Dave’s face.  This is quite possibly the first meeting of this type that he has ever seen.  Instead of just someone giving him a blunt spoon and telling him to invade another country.

‘Well,’ Chris steps forward, a gesture to make sure everyone is looking at him, ‘Kelly has taken over getting the flatlands sorted out, and she’s also stepped up to head the engineering contingent amongst us.  New structures, buildings, anything of that nature will go to Kelly and her team.  Doctor Roberts who you all know, he heads the medical facilities.  Roger – you all know Roger, he was the curator here before…well…before it happened.  Roger has given them the best rooms to use.  The cleanest and driest and I think we all agree the medical people should have those rooms.  We’ll also be sorting out a hospital area but we need supplies…’

‘Yes,’ Doc Roberts interrupts, ‘we need medicines, anti-biotics, bandages…’

‘Doc, we’ll come to that in a minute, please just hang on,’ Chris smoothly moves on, ‘We’ve got tent city out there at the moment which is fine now while the weather is good…’

‘It’s not good, it’s bloody sweltering,’ a voice calls out to a few chuckles.

‘Well at least it’s not cold and raining,’ Chris keeps going, ‘we can use the tents for now but eventually we’ll have to look for more permanent structures.  Inside the fort, we’ve got fresh running water and we’re bottling what we can in case it runs dry.  Food, we’ve got plenty at the moment but we also have a lot of people to feed and more turning up every day so we need more food supplies.  Weapons, we’ve still got shotguns and plenty of ammunition for them but they’re no good for range.  Howie brought us back some ammunition and assault rifles so that secures us for a while, but as with the food, we’ll need more.  Briefly that covers it, Kelly?’ He hands over to the engineer.

‘Thanks Chris, starting with the outside.  The grounds are ruined.  I know there was talk of using them to plant crops but with the amount of blood and bits of bodies soaked into the ground it’s just not feasible.  The infected blood from those things is in the ground, now I’m not a doctor and maybe Doctor Roberts can say otherwise, but I’m not comfortable with eating food grown in soil soaked with so much infected blood,’ murmurs of agreement sound out, ‘but that is something we’ll have to look at when we can.  The bodies are still being cleared away but we need more fuel to burn them.  We’ve been stacking them in the housing estate for now but they need burning before they spread disease.  As for the inside, my team will help with whatever is needed.  We’ve got engineers, mechanics, electricians and plumbers; we’ve got all sorts so between us we should muddle through for now.’

‘Thank you Kelly,’ Sergeant Hopewell speaks up, ‘Doctor Roberts?’

‘Thank you Sergeant.  We can function as basic field triage at this stage.  We can perform basic surgical operations but that’s about it.  Howie and Chris managed to get some of my research equipment from my hospital in London and that’s still waiting to be set up.  But we need power, fuel, generators, we need everything we can get out hands on.  We need nurses too, or anyone with more than a basic knowledge of first aid…’

‘You’ll have to make do with basic first aid,’ Sergeant Hopewell cuts in, ‘we’ve checked everyone and already sent the medically trained people to you.’

‘It’s not enough,’ the doctor retorts.

‘Then train them because we don’t have anymore,’ the sergeant snaps back.

‘Well we don’t have any choice do we.  Right, well send me the basic first aiders then.  They’ll have to learn as we go.  Supplies.  I spoke to Howie last night and told him what we need.  My team have drawn a list up of the essentials but we need everything.  Find a hospital and strip it clean…’

‘You said about chemists too,’ I inquire.

‘That’s my bag,’ a smart looking man steps forward, neatly trimmed hair and moustache.  ‘I’m a pharmacist, so I agreed to deal with that.  But it’s the same as Doctor Roberts said; we need everything you can get.  If you find a chemist then bring everything back with you.’

‘Okay,’ I reply wondering just how much stuff they think we can carry.

‘Guards and fort security is being handled by Ted,’ Sergeant Hopewell carries straight on.

‘Yep,’ Ted nods, ‘we got enough guards and we’re going to do weapons training every day.  There’s a few ex-army folks still with us so we’re getting it sorted.  We got a full rota of guards on the walls and the gates, those archers are bloody good.  We’re getting some training done with them too and they asked me to tell you they need more bows and arrows,’ he looks at me.

‘Of course they do,’ I nod back.

‘Don’t worry Mr Howie, we’ve got lists prepared in order of priority,’ the Sergeant smiles fleetingly.  ‘Right, well I think it’s your turn now anyway…’ she looks at me.

‘Right…well bloody hell.  What do you want to know?’ Caught off guard a little as I was so absorbed in the things being said.

I start off giving a brief outline of what happened once we left the women and children on the Isle of Wight.  The fight we had overnight leading up to Dave shooting Darren with our last remaining bullet,’ cheering breaks out in the room at the news of Darren being killed and questions get thrown in before Sergeant Hopewell brings them back to order.  I run through the naval supply ship and mention that might be worth a re-visit.  Then I explain about the council estate and the compound full of youths run by Maddox.  That elicits more questions and between Clarence and I we try to answer everyone.  We even ask Doctor Roberts to spare someone to send over so they can be checked medically.

As I finish I look round at the looks of awe coming towards the three of us stood in the middle of the room.  One giant, one small quiet man and a supermarket manager.

‘So your team is happy to go back out?’ Kelly asks, breaking the silence.

‘Of course, but how are we going to bring all that stuff back? We’ll need lorries, vans, drivers, directions and maps…’

‘We can get those,’ Sergeant Hopewell says quickly, ‘we’ve been preparing this morning.  We’ve plenty of big vans ready to go out and we’ve got volunteers to drive them too.’

‘Quick runs with less people will be safer and easier,’ Clarence says, ‘we should go for one place, get the goods and bring it back then go back out…too many vehicles and too many people will make it far harder and slow it down.’

‘Good point,’ I nod, ‘we can have the Saxon out front and then on guard action, the lads can secure the entrance which leaves a few of us to clear the building and get loaded.  Ted…we’ll need some more people to help us, can you spare anyone?’

‘We’ll sort that,’ Chris answers for him, ‘Ted can get a few of his guards so you have people with weapons experience and we’ll get a few able bodies to help move the gear.’

‘Good, as soon as you’re ready then,’ I nod round at the faces.

‘One more quick thing,’ Sergeant Hopewell adds, stopping everyone as they turn to leave, ‘we’ve got questions coming in about the burials and ceremonies to honour those we’ve lost.’

‘Right?’ I ask slightly confused.

‘We’ve got many different religions within the fort, Christians, Muslims, Hindu, Sikh and they all lost people, we have to consider how we’re going to do it.’

‘Do what?’ I ask.

‘Well how are they going to worship? Do we have separate places for each religion? We’ve got Muslims asking about prayer times and Christians wanting to bury their dead.  There’s all sorts of religious implications if the bodies aren’t dealt with within certain time frames.’

‘Dealt with? What do you mean dealt with? We burn them.  We burn all of them together.  Frankly, and I don’t care who this offends, but I couldn’t give a shit about religion right now.  People can worship how they want, they can pray to whoever they want but survival comes first.  We’re not giving any ground to any religion.’

‘Who are you to say that?’ A man steps forward and asks the question bluntly.

‘What?’

‘I said who are you to say that? England is a multi-cultural society that prides itself on the acceptance of all faiths.  We must adhere to those principles.  It’s the basis of any fair and decent society.’ He says with a fixed gaze.  I take him in, a middle aged man, portly and serious looking.  He looks intelligent and is wearing a short sleeve shirt with pens in the top pocket and sweat marks on the armpits.

‘What about food? Will religion feed everyone? Will it provide medicine and security too? Will it give us lights at night time? Will it fend off the next attack we get? Or do you think this is over and we can go back to normal living? That infection, or disease or whatever it is…it’s mutating.  The infected are getting smarter.  They can speak and act like we do.  They’ll come again, they need to eat and find humans to carry their infection on.  Do what you want but if you give any of our essential ground to religion I will tear it down.  Burn the bodies and burn them quickly.’

‘Faith gives hope Mr Howie,’ the man continues and I feel Dave bristling at my side.

‘Faith gives hope, religion pits man against man.  We can deal with those things later but for now we carry on as before.  We give no ground for any religious buildings.’

‘What about a multi-faith area, they were common in many places.  A quiet area for reflection and for people to worship how they see fit.’

‘No! Is this meeting over? Good, we’ve got work to do.’

‘Meeting adjourned, Mr Howie will get his team ready at the front and we’ll send the people down there.’

TEN

DAY TWO

‘So Mr Maguire…is the food okay for you?’ Lucy asks watching him tuck into the plate of pasta and chicken cooked in a creamy sauce, topped off with a mound of grated cheese and served with two garlic bread baguettes.

‘Wonderful,’ Paco mutters with a mouthful of food.  The worry in him had increased as Lucy prepared the food, watching the calories mount up and when he saw the white bread going in the oven he felt another mild state of panic settling in.  However, he was hungry and despite most of the foods being banned by his nutritionist he soon tucked in and started devouring the lot.

‘I haven’t eaten anything for hours, not since last evening on set and that was just a salad.’

‘You said you were on set, what were you filming?’ Lucy asks sipping from her glass of wine.

‘Ha! You wouldn’t believe it but a zombie film,’ he winced at the memory.

‘No way? Now that is ironic.’

‘Uh-huh, definitely.  We were filming a scene where this woman gets taken down by zombies, that’s when it started, only one of the zombies turns out to be real.’

‘Oh my god,’ she leans forward staring in horror, ‘is that true?’

‘Yeah, as I sit here now.  One of the zombies was real.  It ate another zombie, one of the actor zombies…’

‘Bloody hell, you couldn’t make it up could you.’

‘Why would I make it up?’ Paco asks.

‘Eh? No it’s a saying, like when something is too weird then it must be true because you wouldn’t make anything that weird up.’

‘Oh I get it…I think,’ he replies forking another load of pasta into his mouth.

‘Listen Paco, we can’t leave the lights on tonight.  We’ll have to stay in the dark and use candles.  We can’t risk anything seeing the lights through the windows.  Only two of the rooms have curtains and they’re threadbare.’ She stared off to the window and the darkening sky outside while Paco felt yet another state of panic course through him at the prospect of being in the dark.

‘Okay,’ he nods, not wanting to show the fear, ‘makes sense I guess. Do we need to keep watch or anything like that? Like you know…one stays awake while the other…’

‘Yeah I know what keeping watch means, we’re pretty isolated here.  The nearest house is a few miles away, the nearest village is the one you went through and that’s quite a distance.  I don’t think anything will come here.’

‘What about that one out there?’

‘Him? Oh he lives in that house a few miles away so he’s accounted for,’ she shrugs, taking another sip of wine.

‘Did he live alone?’ Paco asks.

‘I don’t know I’ve only been here a couple of weeks.  I only met him once to say hi, I never went to his house.’

‘Well didn’t he say if he had a wife or anything?’

‘Nope, he was too busy looking at my tits to mention if he was married…Paco? Are you okay?’

‘Yeah fine,’ he sputters on the food going down the wrong hole at the casual way she mentioned the man looking at her breasts.

‘And don’t think I haven’t caught you looking at them either,’ she adds quickly.

‘What? I haven’t looked at them,’ Paco protests with the fork hovering an inch from his mouth.

‘No?…well why not? What’s wrong with them?’

‘What? Say Lucy I don’t mean to be rude, you have a great rack and all, but the whole end of the world thing has kinda distracted me.’

‘Oh yeah…that,’ she says glumly making him frown, ‘so you think I’ve got a great rack eh?’

‘Er…yeah, really nice,’ he shoves the food in, concentrating on munching, preparing the next forkful and avoiding looking over at her.  Having got this attention a lot from women he wasn’t unduly surprised but right now, after everything that’s happened…it’s just a bit much.

‘So, we’ll go by candle light tonight and then tomorrow we’ll have to think about going out for supplies,’ she switches instantly back to serious mode.

‘Supplies? Where from?’

‘My car is in the garage; we can take that and check that village or maybe go into one of the other towns.’

‘But that village was overrun, those things were everywhere,’ Paco replies, both relieved at the change of topic but also slightly alarmed at the way she flits so quickly.

‘But there’s two of us, one to watch and the other to go inside and get stuff.  If it’s too dangerous we’ll go somewhere else.’

‘Yeah,’ he nods again.  The thought of going out anywhere is terrifying but she’s right.  They’ll need supplies.

‘Maybe you should have a bath tonight; the power won’t last so we should make use of it.’

‘Er, yeah that’d be great Lucy, what about you?’

‘That an invite is it?’ She quips quickly.

‘No I meant you should have one too,’ he answers.

‘I know what you meant, yeah I’ll go first but no sneaking around trying to see my tits okay?’

‘Huh? Yeah sure…’

‘I mean I know they’re pretty good right, not fake like those American girls.’

‘Yeah sure Lucy,’ he says staring down at the food again.

‘Oh you’re going to try and look at me in the bath aren’t you? I know it.  Bloody hell Paco if it’s that hard for you then you might as well just say something.’

‘What?’ He says for the umpteenth time.

‘I’ll be up there soaking my body, naked and vulnerable and you’ll be hanging about outside with your todger in your hand trying to look at my tits.’

‘Todger? What’s a todger?’

‘Your John Thomas, the old wedding tackle…your cock Paco! You’ll be stood with your cock in your hand banging one out.’

‘What the fuck? Lucy I don’t get half of what you’re saying but I won’t be hanging round masturbating if that’s what you mean.’

‘Okay, fair enough.  No need to get all shirty about it.  Christ Paco, they’re only tits! Bloody hell do you want me to just get them out now or something?’

‘Lucy please stop this, I’m in shock right now.  I’ve been chased through the woods by monsters and seen my friends getting killed.  I don’t want to rape you or feel your tits and I won’t be hanging around outside the bathroom.’

‘Okay.  Well I’ll go and run a bath now and let you finish up down here.  Make coffee if you want.  We’ll give it another half hour and get some candles on.  There’s more food in the fridge if you’re still hungry,’ she says lightly, taking her glass and heading out of the room.  Paco stays seated, stunned and confused by the way she seems so normal and intelligent one minute then going on about her boobs the next.

‘This is fucked up,’ he mutters pushing the plate away with a sudden loss of appetite.   He’s Paco Maguire and this shouldn’t be happening.  He should be in a shelter with the other important people.  His studio or agents should have seen this coming and got him to safety.  Feeling angry and frustrated that there’s no one to blame he starts clearing the table.  Shovelling the leftover food into the bin and stacking the dirty plates by the sink.

He makes coffee, thinking furiously.  The situation is bad.  But weigh it up Paco, outside there are monsters that want to eat you, inside there is a very strange woman who keeps mentioning her tits and being raped.  She is beautiful and I guess the old Paco charm has worked quicker than normal.  Hell, out here in the middle of nowhere, a lone woman, then a big movie star turns up.  Who can blame her for being like that?  Women throw themselves at me all the time, why should it be any different now?

She must be scared and frustrated and all those hints, well she obviously wants a bit of Paco inside her.  If I want to stay here then I need to give her what she obviously wants and it’s not like she’s some ugly broad is it?

Nodding with firm resolution he pushes himself away from the kitchen side and walks slowly down the hall, stopping at the bottom of the stairs.

‘Say Lucy, is it okay if I come up a second?’ He calls out.

‘Yeah sure, what’s up?’ She shouts down.  He climbs the stairs, hearing the sound of running water and the bath being filled.  The bathroom door closed but not shut properly and he smiles to himself.  Left the door open for me eh?

‘I was kinda thinking about what you said.’

‘Sorry love, hang on I can’t hear you…’ she opens the door with a towel wrapped round her torso, covering her breasts and the tops of her thighs.

‘Hey,’ he smiles his best wooing smile.

‘Er…hi? What did you say?’ She asks in a normal tone.

‘Well Lucy, seeing as you’re up here alone and that water sounds nice and hot…I was thinking maybe we should save water and share the bath?’ His voice trails off softly at the end as he pushes one hand out to lean against the wall, knowing it will show the muscles in his biceps.

‘I beg your pardon?’ She replies with a look of distaste.

‘What?’ He pulls the arm back and stares at her confused, not expecting this response.

‘You want to have a bath with me? You dirty bloody pervert! I knew you’d be hanging around at here trying to perv over me.’

‘Lucy, hey I’m sorry but I thought….’

‘You thought what? That I’d just drop my towel and let you shag me? Piss off and let me have a bath in peace,’ she steps back, slamming the door closed, leaving Paco stood there with an open mouth and a look of sheer confusion on his face.  The signals weren’t wrong, he never gets it wrong.  She was hinting at him, hinting heavily and now she’s slamming the door in his face.

‘Broads,’ he mutters and walks slowly back down the stairs.  In the kitchen he continues shaking his head and wondering what just happened as he drinks coffee and continues clearing the table.

Looking out the window he realises it’s now full dark and finds the box of candles left on the table.  Using a box of matches he lights one of the candles and lets some wax drip onto a plate to secure the base of the candle.  He switches the light off and sighs deeply.

‘Paco?’ Lucy calls out from upstairs, ‘bathroom is free love, I’ve emptied my water and started filling it up for you.’ She sounds perfectly normal again.

‘That’s great Lucy, thank you,’ he calls back keeping his tone normal.  He climbs the stairs holding his plate and candle, reaching the top to see a smiling Lucy walking out of the bathroom, her skin looking pink and flushed and the now wet towel once more wrapped round her torso.

‘Say Lucy, I’m sorry about that, I didn’t mean to…’

‘What? Ah think nothing of it, waters running and I’ve left that gown for you to use if you want,’ she replies and slinks past him into the bedroom.

He enters the steamy bathroom and rests the candle next to the sink before going over and checking the bathtub.  Pushing the door closed he strips off and climbs into the almost scalding water.  Sinking back gently and letting the heat of the water soak into his muscles he sighs deeply with a tight knot of fear deep inside his stomach.

Everyone is gone, the world is over and life will never be the same again.  No hope of getting home, no phones, television, no internet.  All that money and fame and for what? So he can die from being eaten by monsters or scratch around to survive and eek out an existence.

The back of his throat gets tight, tears sting his eyes as he rubs his face with worry.  Shaking his head he rubs the tears away, feeling helpless, alone and very homesick.

He’d had the choice between a cop thriller and the zombie action movie.  With zombies grossing theatres out everywhere his agents had convinced him to go for the zombie flick, telling him there was potential for a lucrative series.  If only he’d gone with the cop thriller.  He would be safely in LA now, surrounded by armed security and helicopters ready to whisk him away somewhere safe amongst his own kind.

His brother lived in the city and would undoubtedly be dead by now.  Their parents lived on a ranch in Wyoming, wide open country and far from anywhere.  He’d bought it for them a few years ago and got it refurbished.  If only he’d been with them.  Fuck the brother, he was a dick anyway.  A religious nut always devoting himself to the poor and needy.  Sanctimonious douchebag.  His folks would be safe on the ranch.  They had horses, fresh running water and guns, lots of guns.

The thought of home, of the States, of his family and more than anything of being alone and feeling scared brought the tears on fully.

Sobbing quietly into his hands he didn’t hear the door being opened and the footsteps of Lucy as she walked into the room and coughed, making him jump and rub his face quickly, pretending to be washing.

‘What the fuck?’ he stammers with blurred vision from the tears and sudden hot water he was splashing into face, ‘Lucy, is that you?’

‘Oh yes,’ she replies quietly.

‘What’s up?’ He answers, trying to cover his privates with one hand while rubbing the water from his eyes with the other.

As his vision clears he looks over to the woman stood above him.  The black shiny PVC tight trousers and the black shiny PVC studded jacket.  Stood there tapping a riding whip against her leg.  Her eyes dark with black make-up and bright red lipstick.  Her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail and a black shiny PVC cop’s hat on her head.

‘Lucy! What the fuck…’  He tries to shuffle backwards, forgetting he’s in the bath.  He sits bolt upright using both hands to cover his bits while staring open mouthed at the black clad woman.

‘Lucy…What…What…’ he stutters in panic.  She stands there with a serious face, staring hard at him.  The whip giving tiny thuds as it bounces from her leg.  She shifts position, her outfit creaking.  Without uttering a sound she reaches up and starts pulling the zip down on her black shiny PVC top.  The rubberised zip making a loud slow buzzing noise as it clicks slowly down her chest and stomach.  The jacket falls open to show her black PVC bra underneath, the huge soft mounds of her breasts spilling over the top and barely covering the nipples.  Paco took the sight in with a dumb frown, fixing on the glittering silver skull fixed in her belly button.

‘So Mr big shot movie man…trying to watch me in the bath were you?’ She says slowly, her voice low and menacing.

‘What?’ Paco stammers once again.

‘Trying to take advantage of me were you? Little me all alone in this big farmhouse and you come along, all big and strapping with your movie teeth and movie hair.’

‘My movie hair?’ He asks incredulous.

‘Well Paco…you were caught.  Caught being a bad boy.  A naughty boy.  A naughty boy that needs punishing…’

‘Lucy, I…but…hey now,’ he yelps in alarm as she hits the whip harder against her leg, stepping closer to the bath.

‘Don’t talk back you naughty boy,’ she orders, looking lasciviously down the length of his naked body.

‘But…’ he yelps again as the whip lashes out catching him on the shoulder with the soft tasselled end of the whip.  There was no pain, just the action of being struck while naked in the bath.

‘Don’t talk back to me you naughty boy, now have you washed properly?’

‘Lucy…what the fuck?’ She hits him again making him yelp with fright.

‘Have you washed properly?’ She demands.

‘Er…’

‘Don’t speak!’ she strikes him again, ‘just nod or shake your head. Have you washed properly?’

Paco nods quickly, his head bobbing up and down.

‘I don’t believe you.  You’re a dirty boy that needs to wash.  Now wash and do it properly.’

‘Hey come on…ow! Hey don’t hit me…ow! Lucy stop it…Ow…okay okay…ow!’

‘Have you finished speaking you bad boy? Yes? Good.  Now wash for Mistress Lucy.  Wash your feet…yes your feet…I want clean feet.  Go on, wash them toes, oh yeah get in between them, that’s it…right in between them…yeah you bad boy you wash them feet.  Now your legs, good boy…all the way up and clean them big thighs…that’s it…give them a good hard scrub….you been a bad boy, a dirty boy that needs cleaning and washing all that dirty naughtiness away….now clean your stomach….come on lift them elbows up and show Mistress Lucy what you’ve got…oh wow! There’s a big boy, a big dirty boy!  Clean that stomach…now the chest….and get under those armpits, yeah get right in there and clean them pits my boy….Now the face, clean that face…scrub it! Scrub it harder! Good boy… now…what’s left?’

‘Lucy I don’t think….Ow!’

‘No speaking! Now what’s left…oh yes…the todger you were playing with….clean it.  Clean it movie boy….you clean that tackle for me…come on...’

‘Ow!’

‘Clean it then…clean it! That’s a good boy…come on…scrub it harder.  Scrub it! Scrub it!’

‘Ow!’

‘Then scrub it properly…that’s it…nice and hard… come on scrub it you dirty little man! Scrub that todger…good boy! You scrub that todger for me you dirty little man.’

‘Ow…why’re you hitting me…’

‘Shut up and scrub it…come on scrub it!’

‘Ow…hey...I’m scrubbing ain't I…’

‘Scrub it…harder! Stop! Stop touching yourself right now you filthy deviant.’

‘But…Ow…for the love of god…stop hitting me woman…Ow.’

‘I never said you could make it get bigger…did I tell you to make it grow? You think you can just have a five knuckle shuffle when I’m telling you to wash?’

‘Sorry…I didn’t mean to…it just happened!’

‘Now stand up…come on stand up.’

‘Okay okay….Ow! I’m doing it already.’

‘Good boy now let’s have a proper look at you shall we…why is that thing still getting big? Make it go down…’

‘I can’t just make it go down…Ow! Please stop…Ow!...’

‘You make that thing go down…It’s getting bigger.  Do you like being whipped? Is that it? You dirty boy getting all turned on at being whipped.’

‘No I’m not it’s…Ow.’

‘It’s what? What is it? Come on spit it out.’

‘I don’t know! It’s just getting bigger on its own.’

‘On its own! Got a consciousness has it? Got a brain has it? Or have you been staring at my tits again?’

‘Lucy come on…this is fucked up…Ow! Please stop…’

‘Right follow me my dirty little man…’

‘Ow! Oh god Lucy don’t grab that…Hey now come on lady…okay okay I’m coming just don’t grip so hard…hey take it easy…’

‘Well seeing as it’s getting all big I might as well make use of it shouldn’t I you naughty little man…’

With a firm grip, she marches him from the bathroom, across the hall and into the bedroom.  A single candle flickers in the corner of the room, casting shadows and a soft orange light.

Paco, having been a world famous movie star for many years had enjoyed far more than his fair share of sexual experiences and had dabbled with one tentative toe in the murky world of BDSM, preferring the straight and normal experiences of pliable women willing to relieve him at the twitch of a smile.  Now, with Lucy literally manhandling him into the room he feels panicked and scared but strangely excited.  The intelligence and bravery of the woman was clear.  She knew things about what was going on and seemed a good strong person to be with.  She was beautiful too with a figure to die for.  Full breasted, narrow waist and long legs.  Dressed to thrill in the PVC outfit and he couldn’t help but get a natural reaction to the situation.

She was dominant and he was weak.  Despite being a hulk of a man he knew he was truly terrified and her power was clear, plus it was her house, and she knew the area, and was braver than him.

He went with it.  Playing along simply because he was too scared of doing anything else.  She made him go on all fours and straddled his wide back, riding him like a donkey and whipping his bare backside.  She made him undress her slowly, deliberately giving him instruction he would get wrong so she could whip him with the soft tassels.

Eventually, she was naked and the candle extinguished.  What followed wasn’t really that abnormal and Paco took the lead to do the other thing he was famous for.

If nothing else, it served to release the tension.

ELEVEN

DAY THREE

She stands on tired legs.  Her head hanging low.  Eyes alert and watchful, ears pricked.  A sentinel holding post, sturdy, unmoving and unbeaten.

All through the night she has fought and killed.  The bodies lay mangled and deep.  Flies and insects buzz around the corpses.  The street is covered with her vanquished enemies.  The flow of them didn’t stop all during the hours of darkness.

They came in ones, twos, groups and hordes.  At times they reached the house and threw their bodies against the doors.  The windows were smashed but she fought hard and only one gained the window ledge to clamber through and he was dragged back out by his trailing foot and savaged to death within seconds.

During the frantic battle the water bucket was knocked over, spilling the precious liquid away.  She managed a few licks of the pooled water before it drained into the thirsty earth.  After that she suffered with the high heat and constant action.  Still she didn’t fail.

A foul taste in her mouth from the infected flesh torn apart by her teeth.  The sticky blood round her muzzle and dripping from her chin onto her filth encrusted paws.

Now, as the birds herald the start of a new day she checks both ends of the street, looking over the multitude of bodies and searching for any new threats.  Turning slowly she walks to the water bucket and noses the thing aside, pawing and whining with thirst.

A voice from above, she moves back and looks up to see the woman making noise.  The water bucket lifts slowly and she waits patiently for it to be filled and put back down.  When it does come her tails wags softly, showing her pleasure and she drinks deeply.  The water turning pink from the blood in her mouth.  The water is cool and she drinks until her belly feels swollen and her tongue rids of the disgusting taste of the things.

She desperately needs sleep and moves over to the door but the ground is too littered with the dead and she can’t find space to lie down.  She moves off to the far corner, to the only patch of ground not covered by a corpse.  She turns a few times and lies down.  Gradually her breathing slows and her eyes close but her ears remain alert and listening.

In the house, the mother stares down at the huge dog and gives another prayer, this one of thanks and gratitude.  Throughout the long hours of the night she listened to the sounds of the battle raging outside.  She heard the thumps against her door and gripped the knife blade ready to end her children lives to prevent them becoming those things.  She prayed it wouldn’t happen that they wouldn’t breach the house.

The window smashing brought the knife up and the sharp blade hovering inches above the baby’s throat.  Her toddler son asleep with his head on her lap.  First the baby, then the son, then herself.  It would be murder but it would be done with love and she would stop them becoming whatever they were outside.

Her ears strained as she heard the dog growling and snarling, the sounds of bodies being dragged over broken glass.  No further sounds from inside the house and she wept with tears of fear and relief when the first tender rays of sunlight started to pour into the room.

On checking the view she stood rooted to the spot, staggered by the sheer numbers of cadavers littering the street.  Two, three deep in places.  The blood and gore was indescribable.  Nothing on earth could prepare her for that sight and one which would stay with her until her dying day.  Bodies twisted and mangled, hacked apart by teeth, flesh torn and gnashed and the dog stood on the path ready for more.

A sudden feeling of guilt.  She had left the defence of her family to this one poor animal and looking down she saw the water bucket was knocked over and dry.  She quickly re-filled it and lowered it down, seeing the dog wag its tail as it hurried to quench its thirst.  She called down many thank-you’s to the dog, telling it she would never forget what it had done.

The dog had saved them.  Given them a chance of survival.  She took that chance and quickly gathered the essentials into the three bags and after rousing her sleeping son she dragged them down the stairs and out the back door, crossing the garden and finding the car safe in the back lane.

She didn’t heed the law of child seats and shoved the bags and children into the vehicle, desperate to be inside and moving.

Reversing out of her lane she thought about the dog, how she wanted to take it with her.  But surely it must turn.  It must have been injured and the blood must have got into its system.  But it was still normal, seemingly unaffected.

She drove to the end of the lane and pulled out onto her street.  The bodies were less here and she paused, looking down the road and watching as the dog came into view.

The dog slept for a few minutes before hearing the noises coming from inside the house.  She heard the little ones waking up and the hurried movements as they went from the top to the back of the house.  She heard the sound of one of the big things and then listened as it came closer.  Rising up on her exhausted legs she walked down the path and over the bodies to stare down the street at the big thing parked at the end.  The woman was sat inside.  The little ones must be with her.  The big thing was hard and moved faster than she could run.  They could get away and find a new den with the big thing.  She understood this and sat down.

The woman made noise from the big thing, she waved her arm and then the big thing moved away.  She watched and listened until it was gone from both sight and hearing.

She went back to the water bucket and drank again.  She sat next to the water bucket and cleaned herself, removing the blood and gore from her coat.  She walked from the street and kept walking until she found soft ground covered in trees.  She moved through the soft ground, pleased to be rid of the stench of the things.

She found bushes and pushed her way inside.  She made the ground flat and lay down.

She slept.

TWELVE

DAY ELEVEN

‘Ha, now that is a nice sight!’ I call out as Clarence, Dave and I walk back to our area and see the Saxon parked outside, the doors open and our kit being loaded.  Nick stands in the central hole cleaning the GPMG with a cigarette hanging from his lips.

‘She’s back Mr Howie,’ Blowers steps out from the rear and greets us with a big smile.

‘She’s part of the team,’ I reply and move round to peer into the back, at the bench seats and cupboards.  The memories are strong and stir a reaction within my stomach and again I give thoughts to the lads we lost.

‘There’s still bits of zombie brain on the front, it’s all dried on and stuck,’ Cookey winces with a disgusted face.

‘Nice,’ I wince back, ‘can’t we hose it off or something?’

‘Tom’s gone to find a stiff brush, water ain’t shifting it.’

‘Oh well, don’t worry too much, I’m sure we’ll be adding some more on there soon.’

‘I fucking hope so,’ Nick mutters from the top.

‘Language,’ Dave immediately chides him.

‘Sorry Dave, I meant I jolly well hope so,’ he smiles down, his face twisted to one side so the smoke doesn’t go in his eyes.

‘So if Dave is like the sergeant and Mr Howie the officer then what about Clarence? Is he a grunt like us?’ Cookey says with a wicked grin and starts backing away from the glare sent his way from the big man.

‘What did you say?’ Clarence growls.

‘Ha, you might be a big man but can you run?’ Cookey dares him with a laugh and yelps as Clarence moves faster than anyone of us expected.  Cookey tries to sprint off but is caught within a few easy strides and gets pinned to the floor as Clarence calls for the hose.

‘I’ll get it,’ Blowers says laughing and runs round the front to pull it free.

‘No…I was joking…no…Blowers don’t you dare,’ Cookey yells between laughing as Clarence pins him down.

‘Ever heard of water boarding?’ Clarence asks with a chuckle.  Tom walks back with a brush and stops at the sight of Cookey pinned and the rest of us laughing.

‘Blowers don’t you dare,’ Cookey yelps as the cold water starts sloshing his face with Blowers taking care not to aim directly for his mouth, ‘you fucker…I thought we were mates.’

‘Hold him Clarence,’ Nicks shouts down.

‘He’s a wriggler,’ Clarence laughs at Cookey bucking about and giggling between splutters.

‘Lads,’ Dave’s voice cuts through the laughter.  Clarence glances up and his face drops instantly at the sight of the crowds of people in the camp standing and staring at the horseplay.  Cookey bends his neck up and looks about, the giggling dying off quickly as Blowers pulls the hose back.

I turn round to see the glum faces watching us.  A few smiles here and there but mostly downcast people clearly thinking how we can piss about at such a time.

‘Sorry,’ Clarence says loud enough for most to hear him.  He extends a hand and helps Cookey to his feet who wipes his face and nods respectfully at the people watching.

‘Me too, I didn’t mean to cause any offence,’ he says earnestly.

‘Let’s get loaded,’ I say and turn back towards the Saxon with a mixed reaction of feeling bad about the lads laughing and joking when everyone has lost so much, but then we’ve lost too.  We’ve all lost someone.  We’ve seen our mates die by our side.  I shot one of our team just a couple of nights ago.  They’ve got the right to blow off a little steam especially after everything they’ve been through, but maybe not here.

‘Mr Howie, can we get some tools to carry? Wire cutters and strippers, set of drivers? That kind of thing?’ Nick asks pulling me away from my thoughts.

‘See that woman,’ I point to Kelly stood talking outside the police office, ‘she’s in charge of the engineering here now, go and ask her for what you need.’

‘On it,’ Nick drops down and scuttles out the back, jogging away towards the woman.

‘Nick,’ I call after him.

‘Yes Mr Howie,’ he stops and looks back.

‘Politely with no swearing.’

‘Of course Mr Howie,’ he grins and starts off again.

‘We’ve sorted the spare rifles and ammunition out; we got them down to the armoury while you were in your meeting.  The other GPMG is down there too,’ Blowers explains as he hands my kit bag and axe over.

‘Well done mate, good work.’

‘Lani got all our bags loaded with full clips and water bottles.  She stuck some snack food in them too.  The shotguns I put in the Saxon, I didn’t want to give them up to the armoury but I figured we’ve got enough kit with the assault rifles, pistols and hand weapons.’

‘We checked our radios too and Nick got them onto the same frequency as they’re using here.’

‘Good work Blowers,’ Dave adds one of his rare compliments making the hard faced youth smile.

‘Cheers Dave,’ he replies.

‘What’s he grinning about?’ Clarence says at the sight of Nick running back holding a small bag in his hands.

‘You got some stuff then?’ I ask.

‘Fucking right I did,’ Nick grins, ‘shit, sorry Dave,’ he adds quietly, ‘I didn’t swear when I asked her,’ he says quickly.

‘Okay mate, what did you get?’

‘She gave me her own tool kit! Can you believe it! It’s got like everything in it, snips, wire cutters, drivers…everything…here look at this.’ He drops down and starts pulling rubber handled things out of the bag. Tom and Clarence both kneel down and admire the collection of tools which he shows of proudly.

‘And she said this was her own kit, she said it was a gift for everything we’ve done for everyone.  She’s so cool,’ Nick says quickly.

‘You’ve done well mate,’ Clarence pats him manfully on the shoulder, almost sprawling him into the ground but he still grins up reminding me just how young these lads are.

‘So we know where you’ll be working if we ever get time back at the fort,’ I say with a smile.

‘Yeah bloody right…er…if that’s okay with you Mr Howie, I’m with this team first though,’ he says with a sudden seriousness.

‘Right, everyone here? Gather round…we’re going for the local hospitals for supplies.  They’ve got lists prepared for things they need.  Hospitals, chemists…and no doubt a million other things too.  We’ll be taking others out with us in vans to bring the stuff back.  Our job is to find the place and make it safe.  We go point and secure the area then guard while they get loaded up.  We need to stay focussed and work together.  This will be fluid and not only have we got each other to watch but others too.  Ted said he’s sending people with weapons experience but that’s out job.  We keep them safe, get them in and out and get the stuff back here.  Got it?’  They nod back, intense looks and taking the information in.

‘Nick, show Tom how to use the GPMG and then he’s on it first, that okay with you Tom?’

‘No problem Mr Howie,’ he nods seriously.

‘Dave, if we get somewhere that needs inside clearance that will be down to you to lead, do you want to run through the hand signals you showed me before?’ I ask him, remembering back at the farmyard when he was waving his hands at me.

‘Listen in,’ he barks, ‘this means hold,’ he makes a clenched fist and holds it up next to his head, ‘if I extend one finger and point in a given direction it means there is one target in that direction, clear? Good.  Two fingers means two targets and so on.  An open hand being closed and opened means multiple targets.  Watch for the points to see where they will be.  If there is no point then it means I don’t know where they are.  I prefer pistols in confined spaces and room clearance.  Two handed grip like this,’ he pulls his pistol out and grips it with both hands, ‘sweep and keep the pistol pointing where you are looking.  Step surely and if you see a subject then fire twice, a double tap.  We’ll practise today as we go round.  Each of you will work with me in turn, got it?’  They stare back in awe at his instructions, ‘now if I make a motion like this,’ Dave opens his hand and dribbles an imaginary basketball, ‘that means go low, if the hand is down and to the side it’s an instruction to do something.  Two people go that way, two go this way, one to hold here…understand?  Watch Clarence, he knows this as well as I do so follow his instruction too.’ He finishes off and looks to me.

‘Done, right, load up,’ I clamber into the driver’s seat and give a slight smile at being back inside the vehicle.  Clarence comes up front with me, taking the passenger seat which makes sense instead of being crammed into the back.

‘Alright boss,’ he smiles, ‘that was an interesting meeting.’

‘Yeah,’ I agree and start the engine.  She fires up first time with a loud roar that elicits a low cheer from Blowers, Nick and Cookey.

‘Who was that bloke asking about the religious stuff?’ I ask gently pulling away.

‘No idea, I see where he’s coming from but maybe his timing was a bit out.’

‘Really? I don’t see where he’s coming from.  Religion is a pain in the arse.’

‘You think?’ He asks, ‘religion or faith?’

‘I’ve got no issue with faith, but religion? I don’t know…just makes me uncomfortable.  I think it’s divisive.’

‘Chris is no fool, despite what he looks like the bloke is an amazing diplomat.’

‘Oh no doubt, maybe I shouldn’t have sounded off then.’

‘You’ve got every right to say what you said, you more than anyone boss.’

‘Aye, well…here we are,’ I change the subject as we reach the inner gates and wait as they’re pulled open.  We trundle through straight through the already open outer gates.  Ted standing there in full uniform complete with police flat cap, Sergeant Hopewell stood next to him holding her beloved clipboard and also wearing a hat.

‘Good work,’ Clarence mutters at the sight of them.  I know what he means, just the sight of the uniformed officers gives a sense of control and organisation and I notice Ted now has a pistol strapped to his belt.  Three large vans are parked off to one side, the drivers and guards armed with shotguns standing nearby.

‘Two minutes,’ I call out and jump down from the vehicle, ‘Ted, we all set?’

‘Yes, we’ve got a driver and two guards for each van.  The guards will help load up.’

‘Okay, can I speak to them quickly?’

‘By all means,’ he leads me over and introduces me to the group.  I recognise most of the faces from the fort, men that have survived the battle.

‘Right, we’ll be out front in our vehicle.  If we get a contact just stay in your vehicles and we’ll do our best to sort it.  We’ve got the GPMG up there,’ I point to Tom standing through the hole in the Saxon, ‘so we’ll cut down most things.  When we get to our destination, we’ll secure the area and start clearing inside.  Once clear we’ll form a guard while you load up, it’ll be fluid so we’ll see how it goes and adapt as we go along, everyone okay with that?’  I get a round of nods and replies of “yes” and “yes Mr Howie” which still makes me feel weird.

‘Howie, this is the map of the local area.  The route to the hospital is marked in red,’ Sergeant Hopewell hands me a local map book.

‘This route goes north, wouldn’t Portsmouth be closer?’

‘We worked on the basis that it’ll be looted by now, big city and all that.’

‘Those buggers would have looted it the first day’ Ted moans.

‘Oi, I’m from Portsmouth,’ one of the guards grins.

‘I bloody know you are Pete, my point exactly,’ Ted retorts to a chuckle from Pete.

‘You nicked me enough times to know that Ted,’ Pete quips back to my amazement, Ted sees my look and cuts in quickly.

‘Pete’s a good lad, just had sticky fingers in his day.  He got me out the shit once though.  Remember that Pete?’

‘I do Ted, that was a bad night.’

‘What happened?’ I can’t help but ask and I can see the others are looking with interest.

‘Pub fight, first on the scene and the crowd turned on me,’ Pete says with a glint in his eye, ‘then Pete here steps out and stands back to back with me until help arrived.’

‘Bloody hell,’ I say.

‘He was on bail at the time too, I’d nicked him just a few days before,’ Ted adds.

‘You were decent though Ted,’ Pete says seriously, ‘always decent every time you dealt with me and I wasn’t gonna stand by and let you get cut up.’

‘Finished reminiscing have we?’ Sergeant Hopewell joins us, flicking through the papers on her clipboard, ‘have we got everyone’s details? Howie how about your lot, are they recorded anywhere?’

‘Recorded? What for?’

‘We keep records of everyone coming in and going out.  Give me five minutes and I’ll get everyone’s names and details,’ she rushes off towards the Saxon.

‘It’s frantic now,’ Ted explains, ‘but with more people turning up every day we got to keep track of everyone.  It helps when people ask if we’ve heard or seen from so and so.’

‘Yeah, figures.’

Five minutes later and we’re pulling out down the lane heading towards the housing estate with the vans tucked in behind us.

Passing through the estate now in the daytime we can see the mounds of bodies piled up.  Grotesque human remains all twisted and broken, human and zombie shoved away from the fort and ready to be burnt.

‘We need a theme tune,’ Cookey says suddenly, breaking the uneasy silence.

‘Have we got a sound system then?’ Lani asks.

‘We got the loudspeaker system, could rig something up to it easy enough,’ Nick replies.

‘Ride of the Valkyries,’ Clarence says twisting round to look down the back.

‘What’s that?’ Cookey asks.

‘Wagner,’ Dave says.

‘What’s that!’ Clarence scoffs, ‘the Para’s song is what that is.’

‘Hmmm, I think we need something more modern,’ Cookey muses with a sly grin.

‘Modern,’ Clarence tuts.

‘Barbie Girl?’ Nick offers to a few chuckles.

‘Yeah I can see us blasting out Barbie Girl as we thunder into action,’ Blowers says.

‘How about the music from the Old Spice advert?’ Tom shouts down.

‘Carmina Burana,’ Dave adds.

‘Yeah that one,’ Tom shouts.

‘Nah that’s old, we need something modern and good,’ Cookey shouts up.

‘Bonkers by Dizzee Rascal,’ Nick offers again.

‘Nope, got to be something tough, like the music from Rocky or something,’ Cookey replies.

‘Eye of the tiger,’ Dave says.

‘What about Metallica, the opening bit from Sad but True?’ Tom shouts.

‘That’s more like it,’ Cookey grins.

‘Paradise City?’ Lani adds.

‘Guns N Roses,’ Dave says.

‘Classic,’ Blowers says.

‘I know…’ Lani laughs, ‘Missy Elliott…We Run This.’

‘Oh yes!’ Cookey shouts, ‘that’s it.  It’s perfect…blasting into battle, we run this shit!’

‘Brilliant Lani,’ Blowers laughs at Cookey’s impression.

‘Mr Howie, can we have Missy Elliott for our theme song?’

‘I like it,’ I laugh at the thought of playing it through the sound system, ‘Dave, Clarence?’

‘I’m sticking with Wagner,’ Clarence replies.

‘Dave?’

‘I don’t know it,’ he says.

‘What? How can you not know it?’ Lani says.

‘I don’t know it, how does it go?’ He asks and I get the sudden impression just from his voice that he does know it.

Cookey immediately launches into the opening music with loud dum de dums, the others join in noisily.  Dave knows exactly what he’s doing.  They’re wound up tight and need a release, he was mindful of the other people in the fort but then Dave is never normally mindful of other people.  Respect and professionalism.  That’s what he thinks about.  Us playing about in front of others, it’s not about those people feeling sad; it’s about the lads not acting the part.  But here, he can get them to release in the safety of the vehicle.  That bloke is switched on, very switched on.

‘Mr Howie, we need a CD player and a CD so I can rig it up,’ Nick calls out.

‘I got it on my IPod,’ Lani says.

‘You can’t rig and IPod to the sound system,’ Cookey says.

‘Bet I bloody can,’ Nick replies already opening his new tool bag.

‘This will be interesting,’ I say quietly to a grinning Clarence.

THIRTEEN

DAY THREE

‘You go and I’ll keep watch, if anything happens I’ll sound the horn, okay?’ Lucy asks from behind the steering wheel.  Paco leans forward and stares at the first cottage, remembering the old woman he found inside.  Despite his protests Lucy insisted on trying the village first and they drove in to find the main street deserted.

‘But…’ Paco thinks furiously, not wanting to come across like a complete coward but dreading the thought of going back inside the houses.

‘But what?’ Lucy asks staring at his chiselled features.  They had slept late, the fear and exhaustion of the previous days dragging Paco down into a deep and troubled sleep.  On waking they found the power was still on and sat quietly chatting in the kitchen, drinking coffee and eating the food from the freezer.

Nothing about the previous night was mentioned.  Lucy was as straight talking as before with no reference to her breasts or him being a bad boy.  Paco went along with it, content to just be in someone else’s company, and someone who was intelligent and as self-assured as Lucy.

‘Say, I was just thinking that if they turn up out here I could hold them off, that would be safer than maybe one inside the house,’ he offers knowing it’s an awful suggestion but he put it across with lustre and meaning.

‘Yeah, that does make sense,’ she replies biting her bottom lip and staring out of the windscreen, ‘yeah, okay then I’ll go in the first house and you keep watch, sound the horn if any of them turn up.’

‘Yeah sure,’ he nods, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief.  She climbs out of the small blue car, making her way slowly to the first cottage.  Paco steps out and stands scanning up and down the street.  She turns back on reaching the door and gives him a thumbs up; he returns the gesture as she disappears from view.

Alone with the car he is tempted to drive off and find somewhere else, but he doesn’t know where to go, where to get fuel or even how to drive the funny little English car with the manual gear stick in the middle.  No, he’d be better waiting for Lucy, she seems to know what she’s doing and the sex thing last night was weird as hell but painless.  He can put up with that if it keeps him safe.

Where did the monsters go? They were all in the street yesterday.  Unless they followed him through the woods and were still on his trail.  He glances round expecting them to be coming up behind him, but the view is clear.  Just a sultry hot summer afternoon in a quaint little English village.  Flowers in the gardens, white fences and stone built walls.  Idyllic really.  He hums nervously to himself, trying to fight the temptation to lock himself in the car or drive off.  The feeling of panic was still there, of being unsafe with eyes watching him from every window.  It was quiet.  Too quiet.  The kind of quiet that precedes something bad.  If this was a movie the camera would be panning out to show him stood in the empty street, no soundtrack or music playing, just quiet.  Then it would happen.  The monster would reveal itself behind him.  He spins round expecting the worse and found the view the same as it was thirty seconds ago.

‘Hey I got some good stuff,’ Lucy calls, splitting the quiet with her monstrous voice.

‘Ssshh,’ he says fiercely waving his hands to quieten her.  She freezes on the spot expecting there to be something nearby.

‘What is it?’ She whispers.

‘They’ll hear you yelling like that,’ he complains.

‘Oh for goodness sake Paco,’ she sighs, ‘I thought there was someone there.  I got some tinned stuff, ham, cheese and some milk that hasn’t gone off.’

‘That’s great but will you stop shouting,’ he pleads.

‘Okay okay, keep your shirt on,’ she tuts, lifting the carrier bags into the boot and slamming it down making him wince visibly.

‘Oh god, they’ve heard us,’ he whimpers staring down the road at the sight of the geriatric horde shuffling into view from a junction.  ‘We’d better go.’

‘Hang on,’ she stares down the road at them.  She waits for long agonising seconds just staring at their slow movements, ‘Paco, they’re going to take at least half an hour to get here, look at the pace they’re going at.  We’ll do another couple,’ she says brusquely walking off towards the next house.

‘Are you crazy?’

‘They’re not running are they?’

‘Lucy! What if they start running?’

‘Sound the bloody horn then, I won’t be long,’ she walks quickly to the next cottage and pushes the door open, checking inside before disappearing from view.  Paco stands transfixed at the site of the group hundreds of metres away.  The slow jerky shuffle.  They’re going to start running, they’re going to just let rip and sprint at me.  They’ll get me, they’ll eat my flesh.  Why was she taking so long? Couldn’t she see the danger they were in?

Whimpering softly to himself he spins round checking all sides before looking back down the road at the barely moving horde.  Christ they were getting close now.

‘See, we’ve got more food now,’ Lucy says holding more bulging carrier bags, ‘oh they haven’t even moved,’ she adds with a glance down the road.

‘They have, they’re getting closer.  We really should go.’

‘No no, we’re alright for a minute,’ she says after loading the car up and walking off to the next house, ‘bring the car down for me.’

The car? How was he meant to drive that thing? He stares with horror at the horde then down at the small car.  He opens the driver’s door and clambers in, scratching round for the seat lever and yanking it back with a crunch.  He stares at the dials and feels the unfamiliar three pedals under his feet.

Staring at the group he twists the ignition causing the car to shoot forward a few feet with a violent lurch, he gives a gurgled scream at the sudden unexpected motion and gets ready to flee on foot then remembers the clutch, hold the clutch down.

Pressing his left foot on the pedal he tries again and listens as the car fires up.  The noise of the engine far too loud in the quiet street.  He eases the clutch up and feels the car starting to move, he lifts too fast and the car shoots forward, stalling again.

‘Stupid mother fucker,’ he mutters and tries again, this time easing his left foot up while pushing his right down harder.  The vehicle rolls forward a few metres, stopping outside the third house.  He keeps the engine running and drums on the steering wheel, staring intently at the horde and praying they don’t start sprinting.  Sighing with relief at the sight of Lucy exiting the cottage with more bulging plastic bags.

‘I love old people, they’ve always got loads of tinned food.  We got prunes here, that’ll help keep us regular.’

‘Great can we go now?’

‘What? They’re bloody miles away, just be patient and move the car down.’ She walks off again leaving his heart racing and the knot in his stomach getting tighter.

Great.  This is just great.  I’m driving the car closer to the monsters while she looks for tinned prunes in some old ladies pantry.  This is the last one.  We’ve got to go.  If they start running we’ll be in danger.  He moved the car down to the next house and waited with baited breath until she came out carrying two large knives.

‘No food, but I found these, here you have one, it’ll make you feel better, right driver move on to the next one please,’ she commands after passing the long bladed kitchen knife through the window.  He dumps it straight on the passenger seat vowing to never be close enough to need one.

Fingers drumming, breathing shallow and sweat forming on his forehead he keeps a constant watch on the shuffling horde.  They were close enough to see the gore on them now, the blood stained night clothes.  In varying states of undress with ragged wounds clearly visible to the naked eye.  Heads lolling as the feet shuffled in a straight legged walk.  Drool pouring from mouths and he imagined the noises they would be making, groaning and snarling with venomous evil.

‘Say this is enough now Lucy,’ he snaps as she walks back to the car carrying more bags to dump in the back.

‘I think you might just be right my dear,’ she says looking at the approaching group of undead, ‘right, drive down to that junction,’ she adds climbing into the passenger seat.  Paco eases the car forward, taking care with the weird pedals.  He grinds up to second gear as they pass the horde, too busy watching them turn and stare with their red bloodshot eyes and saliva dripping mouths.

‘If you can’t find ‘em…grind ‘em,’ Lucy quips.

‘Who has a manual shift these days?’ he moans.

‘Hey, ease up and pull in here,’ she points to the side of the road, leaning over him and wagging her fingers.

‘What? Why?’

‘We’ll start at this end now while the old biddies are shuffling round,’ she explains waiting to open the door as he coasts to a stop.  Paco cranes his head round to look out the rear window at the horde as they slowly turn and start back down the road.

‘I think we’ve got enough, we should head back,’ he stares at her blue eyes, willing her to agree.

‘Nah, big man like you! You’ll eat all that lot within a couple of days and it’s mainly prunes and pilchards anyway.  I’ll do these houses and you keep watch again,’ she replies cheerfully hopping out of the car and jogging round the front.

Paco felt his stomach drop, the tension was too much.  They needed to go and get back to the safety of the house.  Being out here was inviting trouble.  Sure, these monsters might be slow and doddery but what if some more came along? Faster ones with sharp teeth and clawed hands?

He shivers at the macabre thoughts coursing through his mind, telling himself to keep calm, breathe deeply and just keep watch.

‘Paco, this door is locked, come and give it a kick for me,’ Lucy yells over.  He spins round to find she hasn’t even got in the first house yet and is stood there rattling the front door.

‘Someone could be in there Lucy,’ He shouts back stretching his tall frame out from the car.

‘I don’t think so, it looks empty.  I think the door just closed and locked.’

‘Lucy I don’t think we should do that, what if someone is inside and armed with a gun.’

‘A gun? This isn’t Los bloody Angeles Paco…who’d have a gun round here?’

‘You had a gun.’

‘Yeah but no bullets, besides the thing’s an antique and I doubt it would fire anyway.’

‘I just think…’

‘HELLO? ANYONE IN THERE?’ She bellows through the letterbox.

‘For the love of god what are you doing?’ He seethes; glancing round to check nothing was creeping up on him.

‘Checking if anyone is inside of course,’ she says as though it was the most obvious thing ever.

‘Well they’re not gonna answer you are they?’

‘Why not? I’d answer if another survivor was at my door, HELLO? I’VE GOT PACO MAGUIRE OUT HERE…’

‘Oh my,’ he groans rubbing his forehead.

‘Nope, no one home, come and give it a kick for me.’

‘But…’

‘Come on, stop your bleating and kick this door in.  You must have done it a hundred times in your movies.’

‘They’re prop doors, rigged to burst open.  Not real doors,’ he moans walking through the gate.

‘Yeah well you’re still a big lad so come on, give it a whack for me.’

‘Jesus Mary and everything else!’ He mutters taking stock of the door.  He takes a wide legged stance and eyes the middle section near the lock.  Exploding out and ramming the door with the bottom of his shoe.  It thuds and creaks but otherwise doesn’t move.

‘What was that? I could have kicked it harder,’ she berates him.  He gives it another kick, harder but not hard enough.

‘Paco, if you don’t kick it properly I’ll get my bloody whip out!’ she snaps, making the first reference to last night’s activity.  He sucks a breath in and slams his foot into the door, his powerful thighs driving the leg forward.  The door wrenches open with a sound of splintering wood, destroying the lock and hanging limply from the hinges.

‘I did it!’ He stares in shock at the open doorway, ‘did you see that? I kicked the door in!’

‘Well done, now you keep watch.’

‘I did it! I kicked a real door in, a real wooden door.  You know the prop guys always said you’d break your foot trying it for real.’

‘Did they?’ She shouts from somewhere inside the house.

‘Yeah for sure, they always said it was the quickest way to injure yourself and shouldn’t be done unless you had really strong knees and ankles.’

‘Well I guess that means you have strong knees and ankles then.’

‘Yeah I do!’ He shouts back and whoops for good measure then realises where he is and what they’re doing.  Spinning round with a look of intense fear.  At the end of the path he checks the progress of the horde and looks in every direction, cursing himself for being so stupid as to look away for even just a few minutes.

The knot in his gut tightens into a hard ball, his hands shake and palms become sweaty.  They going to kill me, they going to kill me in a horrific slow and painful way, eating me bit by bit while I scream and beg for mercy.  I’m too good for this, too beautiful.  I’m an actor, an artist who reflects life and gives pleasure to ordinary people, I make them feel good about themselves.

Wringing his hands he switches his gaze between the horde and the cottage that Lucy went in.  His foot taps nervously as he drops his arms and beats his fists against the side of his legs.

‘PACO!’ Lucy screams from inside the house, his stomach flips at the piercing scream that follows.  He takes a step towards the house, stopping and almost crying with panic.

‘LUCY?’ He yells, glancing round at the horde then back to the house.

‘Paco,’ he looks up to see her opening an upstairs window, ‘there’s two of them here,’ she shouts.

‘What? Where?’ He stays rooted to the spot.

‘They were in a bedroom, they’re outside the door…do something!’

‘Do what? What can I do?’

‘Use the knife, there’s only two of them!’

‘I…But…’

‘There’s no weapons in here, I’m in a spare room.  Just a bed and nothing else, she shouts looing round at the room behind her, ‘use the knife.’

‘Lucy…I can’t,’ he stammers.

‘Paco, just man up and use the bloody knife, you can’t leave me in here like this…that bloody lot are getting closer too.’ He spins round checking the hordes progress, they’re closer now.

‘Lucy…’ he backs away towards the car.  The thought of entering the house with the monsters, all red eyed and sharp teeth, clawed hands just waiting to tear his flesh open.  It’s too much, the fear consumes him.  Utter terrifying fear that grips his stomach and makes his legs shake.

‘Paco, get the bloody knife and get up here,’ she commands turning to look back in the room, ‘they’re at the bloody door Paco, they’re trying to get in…’

‘Lucy, I’m so sorry...I…I just can’t,’ he sobs.

‘Paco for god’s sake man up and get in here!’

‘I just can’t,’ tears stream down his face as he moves to the car, feeling for the open driver’s door and glancing round at the group.  They’re so close now and the blood looks stark against their pale skin, the wounds festering with bits of skin flapping open.

‘Paco…’ she shouts in a warning voice, ‘don’t you fucking leave me…give me a knife, get me a weapon…Paco, this room is empty, my knife is downstairs…I can’t fight them with my bare hands.’

Crying hard he climbs into the car and starts the engine, firing it up and grinding through the gears in a muddled attempt at finding first.

‘Paco…please…fucking don’t do this Paco…I took you in…’ her voice is desperate, she can see exactly what he’s doing, the state he’s in and the panic showing from his body language.

‘Lucy,’ he sobs staring up at her through the open window.  He hears the first low groan from the horde several metres back from the car and it sets him off with a yelp, slamming his foot down on the pedal and tyre spinning away, leaving Lucy leaning out the window and screaming after him.

‘DON’T YOU LEAVE ME HERE…I SWEAR I’LL FIND YOU PACO MAGUIRE…DON’T LEAVE ME…I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN….’

Through tear filled misted eyes he watches the rear view mirror, watching Lucy leaning out the window and waving her arms at the retreating car.  Loud sobs wrack his body, his chest heaves as he beats the steering wheel and dashboard.

FOURTEEN

DAY THREE

She needs rest.  The night’s constant exertions have exhausted her muscles and left her weary.  Sleeping in the bushes stretched out she slowly recovers.  Waking every so often to shift position and pant the heat of the day away.  The dog stretches her limbs out regularly, straightening her legs and groaning softly at the pleasure it gives.

She senses the day drawing on and the high heat of the afternoon.  The bushes are shaded which provides relief from the scorching sun but the air is still super charged and humid.

By late afternoon she is unable to sleep anymore.  Thirsty and hungry she moves out from her position and finds a suitable spot to deposit her scent.  Moving off and searching through the soft ground for food or water.

A shallow stream, shaded by tall trees provides a perfect spot to cool down and she wades into the water, drinking first and then lying down and letting the water flow past her.  The running water turns a pale shade of pink from the blood stains as the dried gore softens and comes away from her fur.  She drinks more and savours the chill feeling on her stomach and hind quarters.  Still the sense of sadness burns within.  She knew there was another pack in that den and she protected the little ones but they’re gone now too.  Images flash through her memory, fleeting glimpses of her pack laughing and stroking her belly.  The pack leader taking her out for a patrol and throwing things for her to chase and catch.

Soft brown eyes blink as she whines softly and her ears dip down.  Alone and hungry.  She can find food and keep going but without a pack she feels desolate and aimless.

Cooled and watered she rises from the stream and walks gently through the soft ground, using her nose to head back towards the hard ground.  Keeping to the shadows she slinks down streets and roads until she finds a pile of the black things.  Again she glances round out of habit, checking no one will tell her off and make noise.  Her nose picks out the best choices and she rips the bags open, devouring any food left inside them.  The wasteful nature of society means she again eats well and fills her stomach with left over meals and discarded food.

The smell of the things is everywhere.  The stench of them permeates the air and it’s already getting worse.  Decay and dying flesh, rancid, awful and sweet.

With nothing else to do she puts nose to ground and starts tracking their movements.  Using that foul stench to hunt them down.  She’s alone but she knows that her little one still lives somewhere, those things will kill her little one.

She must kill them first.

FIFTEEN

DAY ELEVEN

‘Try that,’ Nick says flat on his back between Clarence and me with his arms stretched into the inner working of the Saxon’s electrical wiring system.

‘It hasn’t worked the last five times Nick,’ Cookey moans.

‘Just press play and try Cookey,’ Nick’s muffled voice calls out.  The headphones of the IPod dangle just above his head as he cuts and splices things, his new tool bag open on his chest and a pair of wire cutters gripped between his teeth.  ‘Have you pressed play yet?’

‘Yes mate,’ Cookey replies.

‘It should be working,’ Nick says, ‘Clarence is the PA system on?’

‘Hang on,’ he leans forward and checks the switches on the dashboard, ‘er…no it wasn’t, do you want it on?’

‘Yes please,’ Nick says frustrated but retaining a polite tone remembering who he’s talking to.

‘It’s on,’ Clarence flicks the switch and the sound of Missy Elliot booms out from the loudspeaker attached to the outside of the vehicle.  Cheers erupt from the back and even Clarence’s face splits in a wide grin.

‘Fucking yes!’ Nick slides out and grins up at everyone.

‘Well done,’ I shout down over the sound of We Run This belting out.

‘What else you got on here?’ Cookey asks and fiddles with the IPod.  The song ends abruptly as the opening for Eternal Flame by The Bangles starts up.

‘What the fuck?’ Cookey laughs.

‘I like it,’ Lani says defiantly.

‘You got some good stuff Lani,’ Cookey flicks through her playlists.

‘Only problem is we can’t really use it too much,’ I break the bad news, ‘we’d draw them for miles around if they hear it.’

‘Is that a bad thing?’ Blowers shouts up.

‘It is if we’re trying to keep a low profile and do a quick raiding mission.’

‘Since when have we kept a low profile?’ Clarence chuckles.

‘True,’ I nod and smile, ‘where now mate?’  Following the map we’ve headed north away from the coast.  Going through villages and towns, all of them looking more torn apart and destroyed than the last.  Burnt out vehicles and bodies littering streets, pavements and road.  Signs of intense fighting everywhere and we see small groups of undead gathered in central places, turning to shuffle slowly as we drive past.  Tom shouted if he should fire on them, the temptation was great but we decided to conserve our ammunition and just concentrate on getting to the first hospital.

‘Take a right, about a mile up the road now,’ Clarence advises as he examines the map and looks up to check local landmarks and road names.  We’re in a built up area now.  I’ve no idea what the town is and to be honest, it doesn’t make any difference to me.  The area is built up and urban which means there was a high population density here.  That means there will be undead aplenty and also that the hospital will most likely be overrun or looted already.  It would only take one infected to get taken there by ambulance when the outbreak started.

‘Music off,’ I call out.  Cookey switches the IPod off quickly and pushes it onto the dashboard.  ‘Almost there, we’ll slow down for the last quarter of a mile. Switch on a keep a good look out.’

I hear rustling and slight clanging noises as the lads get their rifles ready, checking magazines, pulling bolts back. Taking pistols out, ejecting the smaller clips and ramming them back home.  Clarence twists round to watch them, looking at me with an impressed nod.

‘There it is,’ he points ahead to a modern looking building set back from the road.  A big sign board indicates the route in for the various departments.  We take the access road for the Accident and Emergency department knowing it will be big enough for ambulances and there-fore big enough for our vehicles.

‘There’s been some contact here,’ Tom shouts down.

‘Got it,’ I call back looking at the corpses in the mostly deserted car park.  Several of them scattered about.

‘Looks like they were run over…several times,’ Tom commentates as we drive slowly down the access road.

‘Right outside a hospital too,’ Cookey mutters to a few sniggers.

‘Alex, you’re with me for the first clearance when we go in, make sure your rifle can fit on your back with the strap.  We’ll be using pistols.’

‘Okay Dave,’ Cookey instantly switches to a respectful tone of voice.

‘Here we are,’ I slow to a crawl for the last short distance.  Approaching the wide front of the hospital emergency department.  Two sets of double doors stand open, the building looks huge.  Really long and at two stories high we’re going to have our work cut out clearing it.

‘Have you got your radio’s on?’ I ask.

‘Yep, yours is clipped to your bag Mr Howie,’ Blowers answers, proving I didn’t need to ask.

‘Looks clear, there’s an ambulance over there…we’ll have that if the we can find the keys,’ Clarence points further down the road to wide parking bays marked up with Ambulances Only.

‘Right, Tom you stay on the GPMG.  The rest spread out and check this area first.’ Bringing the Saxon to a stop I hear the back doors opening and sounds of feet jumping down onto the concrete.  Blowers hands me my kit bag and rifle as I climb down and feel the heat of the morning hitting me like a brick wall.

‘Jesus, it’s fucking hot,’ I moan quietly.  It feels like hot air from an oven.

‘This has got to be the hottest summer this country has ever seen,’ Clarence says shrugging his bag on and picking his rifle up, ‘I’ve known deserts cooler than this.’

‘Humid too,’ Blowers adds wiping sweat from his forehead.  Walking away I see Cookey, Nick and Lani have already taken steps away from the building and are facing away, checking the view all around and holding their weapons at the ready.  The vans have stopped a short distance away and I wave at them to stay put.

‘Howie to the vans, are you receiving me over?’

‘Lead van to Mr Howie, this is Pete, yeah we’re receiving you loud and clear.’

‘Howie to Pete and the other vans, hold your position.  We’ll leave someone on the GPMG and start checking inside over.’

‘Pete to Mr Howie, okay, we’ll hold here over.’

I nod at Dave who signals Cookey to head over.  We start walking slowly to the entrance as Cookey pushes his rifle round and draws his pistol.  Entering through the main doors we fan out into a line and look at the devastation.  Blood everywhere, corpses mangled and rotten.  Furniture upended, a wheelchair lying on its side, blankets and sheets scattered over the floor.  To the right is a large waiting room with chairs bolted to the floor and a long reception desk.  The corridor leads on into the emergency treatment rooms, and the curtained sections used by the triage nurses.

Dave steps out front and motions Cookey to move by his side.  Both of them have their pistols drawn and held out in front in a double handed grip.  Dave turns and signals Clarence to watch the rear, the big man nods back and steps back a few paces half turning so he can maintain a clear view.

The two men lead the way slowly progressing down the corridor, taking steady steps until they reach the first side rooms.  Dave holds his hand up, fist clenched and we pause.  He indicates the rest to keep eyes on the front and signals that he’s going to clear the room on the left.

Heavy double swing doors with a solid metal strip across the middle section to protect the wood from being battered by beds rammed into them at speed.  Dave pushes one side with his foot and indicates Cookey to push the other side open.  They step in, holding the doors open with their feet and sweeping the pistols round the room.  The doors swing close behind them with shushing noise.  Two loud shots ring out and we grip our weapons tighter as the tension ramps up a notch.

The doors swing open as they walk out, Dave motioning that one was inside and was taken down by Cookey.  They cross the corridor and repeat the movements, pushing the door open and disappearing for a few seconds.

Ten minutes later and we’ve only cleared the first main corridor and reached a crossroads with large corridors leading off left, right and ahead.

‘This is going to take too long,’ I whisper to everyone, ‘Dave you take Cookey and Lani left, Blowers you and Nick with me to the right, Clarence holds here.’ They nod back and we move off.  Pistols drawn.  We keep to the same method of room clearance of two going in to each room and the other remaining outside.

We rotate round the pairings round, taking it in turns.  Some of the rooms lead into offices and administration areas, those are cleared quickly.  Other doors lead into smaller waiting rooms with more corridors going off to yet more smaller examination and consultation rooms.

Bloody footsteps and smears indicate there has been undead here and most of the doors are simple swing doors without handles or locks, meaning they could be anywhere.  The air smells stale and hot, tinged with the stench of decaying, rancid meat.  We find corpses throughout the rooms.  The bodies hacked apart by dozens of mouths and destroyed beyond possibility of coming back.

Halfway down our corridor and we pause to pull water bottles from each-others packs and swig the rapidly warming liquid down.  It does little to cool us and I can tell Blowers and Nick are as uncomfortable as I am.  My back feels like there’s a hot water bottle trapped between my skin and the material of the bag.  My face drips sweat from my chin and my top is sodden.

Nick and I push into the next room; an undead turns slowly on seeing us.  A doctor still dressed in a white lab coat but half his face torn off.  He groans audibly as Nick fires a single shot into his head.  Blood and brains splatter the wall behind him as the round takes the back of his skull off.

‘Shot mate,’ I whisper.

‘Thanks Mr Howie,’ he whispers back.  Just a single room and we back out just as Blowers fires down the corridor at another undead exiting a side room, pushing the door open with his body and shuffling into view.

‘I think they know we’re here,’ he comments and exhales sharply blowing a spray of sweat from his upper lip.

We move down and I hold while they take the next room.  Another shot rings out and I hear more muffled shots coming from further down the corridor.  I glance back to see Clarence aiming down the corridor ahead of him and taking a shot.

‘Hang on lads,’ I say as they walk out, ‘Howie to Pete, you receiving me?’

‘Loud and clear Mr Howie.’

‘We’ve got multiple contacts here, might take some time, over.’

‘Yeah we heard the shots, do you need a hand? Over.’

‘No mate, just bear with us.’

‘Roger that.’

‘Okay, crack on,’ I clip the radio back onto my bag strap.  A squeaking noise comes from further down the corridor.  We hold position with pistols raised and waiting as the noise draws closer.  A door starts swinging open ahead of us, a few rooms down.  An undead female dressed in a hospital gown and pulling a wheeled stand holding a now empty drip behind her.  The fact that the wheeled stand is still attached and upright causes us to pause for a second.  The wheels squeak annoyingly as she slowly ambles towards us.

‘We should put some blood in that drip bag, she’d be happy for hours,’ Nick comments then fires a single shot taking her in the throat.  She spins back and slams into the wall, slumping down as fresh blood pours from her throat.  The drip stand remains upright.

We clear the rest of the corridor, getting frequent contacts until we’re satisfied the rooms are all clear.  Strolling back down we swig water and change magazines.  Dave reaches the main junction just ahead of us, Cookey and Lani both red faced and sweating heavily.  Even Dave looks a little flushed, but only a little.

‘There’s loads of them,’ Lani remarks as we move down the corridor, stepping over the body that Clarence shot.

‘More than I thought there would be,’ I smile at her and she grins back showing her white teeth.  She looks so beautiful with her glowing face and I can’t help but stare for a second.

‘More rooms,’ Dave mutters.  ‘We’ll do the left you do the right?’

‘Okay mate, Nick you swap with Clarence for a few minutes.’ They swap round and we keep going.

‘Dave, Clarence, you okay if they start getting the equipment from the sections we’ve cleared?’

‘Makes sense boss,’ Clarence nods.  I can see Dave would prefer to have the whole building cleared before they enter but that will take valuable time.

‘Howie to Pete.’

‘Pete receiving you Mr Howie, go ahead.’

‘Mate, we’ve cleared the A and E department and the main corridors up to the signs that lead to the x-ray section.  Do you want to start in behind us while we press on?’

‘Yeah got it, we’ll come in now and get working.’

‘Roger that, take care, there’s bodies everywhere and it’s hot as hell in here.  Tom you receiving me?’

‘Tom to Mr Howie, receiving you loud and clear, go ahead over,’ his training as a police officer shows clearly as his confident voice comes through the radio.

‘Tom did you hear the last? They’ll be coming in to start unloading.  You stay put and keep watch there.’

‘Roger that Mr Howie, acknowledged the last, remaining in position until further notice.’

‘Right, who wants an X-Ray?’ I ask.  Another set of double doors ahead of us and the more double doors to the right leading to the X-Ray section.  You lot crack on, I’ll hold here.’

Clarence nods back and goes to push the swing door open.  It hits something the other side and bounces back at him.  He frowns as the door starts swinging towards him, a clear groaning coming from the other side.

‘I’m too hot to piss about,’ he growls and slams one hand into the door.  It bursts open with a loud thud as the body on the other side is sent flying backwards.  He strides in and kicks the undead hard in the head, breaking the neck.  Cookey stares in awe and looks back at Nick and Blowers both grinning like idiots.

‘Nick, chuck us a smoke mate,’ I call out before he disappears.  He drops back and hands me his packet and a lighter. I stick one in my mouth and light the end, savouring the smoke as I pull it back. ‘You having one?’ I ask him.

‘Is that alright?’ he replies and lights one up.  Dave might not be very happy with us smoking on the job but hey, it’s hotter than a hot place on a hot day and it stinks too.

‘Good job with that IPod Nick,’ I breathe the smoke out and feel the pleasant tingle as the nicotine receptors get a hit.

‘Thanks Mr Howie,’ he nods back blowing smoke downwards and tapping the ash on the floor.  I’m suddenly reminded of McKinney.  We stood and smoked in a hospital in London a few hours before he got killed.

‘You okay Mr Howie?’ Nick asks as an involuntary shiver goes through me.

‘Yeah,’ I smile back, ‘fine mate.  You okay?’

‘Starving,’ he says quickly.

‘You’re always bloody starving; I don’t know where you put it all.’

‘Nervous energy, I burn it off…that’s what I was told anyway.’

‘Boring in there,’ Cookey says coming back through the doors, ‘we were going to X-Ray Blowers to see how thick his head was but the powers off.’

‘Very funny,’ Blowers replies drily.

‘You two take the rear and have a smoke if you want,’ I stub my cigarette out on the tiled floor.

‘Thanks,’ Cookey pulls a packet from his pocket and hands one to Blowers as Nick and I push through the next double doors.

‘Well hello!’ Nick smirks at the sight.  A wide open main reception area with stairs leading up.  A café and newsagents on the far side and the hospital pharmacy off to the left.  The metal shutters still firm and locked in place across the counter.  The area doesn’t look looted but then I guess the horde of zombies here have kept everyone at bay.

Patients and medical staff clustered together at the base of the stairs, blood soaked and covered in gore.  Their skin looks drawn and tight, a sickly pale colour with sunken cheeks and almost hollow eye sockets.  Hands clawed and tight, all moisture drawn from their skin and flesh.  The clothes hang from their frames, hair limp and filthy.  Flies and insects buzzing in and around the festering sores.

Almost gagging from the stench we fan out into a line and watch as they slowly turn and start the ungainly shuffle towards us.

‘Rifles?’ I ask.

‘Okay,’ Dave replies.  We holster the pistols and pull the assault rifles round, taking aim and holding for a second.  Everyone waiting for everyone else to fire first.  After a few seconds we all look at each other and start laughing, triggers get squeezed and the noise of the weapons deafens us in the enclosed space.

It takes just seconds to slaughter them down.  Rounds ripping into heads and blowing skulls apart.  Brains and hair matted cranial bits flying off everywhere.  We use single shots, picking them off until the area is clear.  Magazines are changed and we re-draw the pistols.

‘Dave you go right and check the café and shop with Clarence, we’ll take the pharmacy.  Lani, you hold at the bottom of the stairs.’

We split up again as Lani strides to the base of the stairs and aims her assault rifle up, then sweeping round to aim at the main entrance doors a few metres away.

‘Cookey, get some food from that café,’ Nick calls out.  We head towards the pharmacy.  A small waiting with the same bolted to the floor chairs.  Low tables with old faded magazines on them.  Signs and display notices pinned to walls telling visitors to wash their hands and use the gel dispenser on the walls.

I check the metal shuttering to find it’s fixed in place, seemingly locked from the inside.  We head down the side to find a single door marked up with AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY.

‘Oh fuck it, we’re not authorised,’ Blowers mutters.

‘Mr Howie, can you authorise us to enter the pharmacy?’

‘I can and you are,’ I reply.

‘Ah that’s good then,’ Blowers adds and pushes the door handle down, ‘locked,’ he says.

‘We’re fucked then,’ Nick eyes the door.

‘Blowers, you stand next to me, we’ll kick it together.  Aim for the middle, ready?’ He nods back and we each launch a foot at the door, striking it mid-section and bouncing off with jarred knees.

‘Shit that bloody hurt,’ Blowers winces as we rub our knees and Nick chuckles.

‘Howie to Clarence.’

‘Clarence to Mr Howie, receiving you, go ahead.’

‘We’ve got an obstacle here, can you pop down to the pharmacy please?’

‘Big door is it?’

‘Yep.’

‘On my way.’

‘Defeated by a door,’ I moan.

‘I bet he gets it first kick,’ Blowers says.

‘Probably just punch it in,’ Nick adds.

‘Boss, lads, is that it?’ Clarence walks up and stares at the door then grins at us still rubbing our knees.

‘Yeah, it’s fucking solid,’ Blowers stands upright, ‘and it called you a wanker.’

‘Did it now?’ He steps up to the door and first pushes the top, then the bottom.

‘What are you doing?’ Nick asks inquisitively.

‘Checking to see if there are locks at the top or bottom, or just in the middle.  Being a pharmacy they would have used a decent door with a decent lock.  See, it doesn’t budge when I push the top or bottom which means it has three locks in place.’

‘How would they do that from the outside?’ Blowers asks.

‘Not bolts, locks.  Activated from the main keyhole.’

‘Oh I see,’ Nick says.

‘Yeah, so on a door like this a kick to the middle will just hurt your knees,’ he glances round with a wry smile as the others walk round to join us.

‘Café and shop clear,’ Dave reports.

‘So how do we get in then?’ Blowers asks.

‘You either get an enforcer, you know…those big metal things the police use, or…’ He steps back and first extends a foot to the door gently.  Checking range and adjusting the distance a little.  He focuses hard and takes a deep breath, exploding out with a low roar and slamming his gigantic foot into the door, splintering the frame and sending the thing flying in several feet to smash into the shelving units behind.

‘Fuck me,’ Cookey says with shake of his head, ‘I want to be Clarence when I grow up.’

‘That’ll never happen,’ Lani shouts from round the corner.

‘Ha! Nice one Lani,’ Blowers laughs.

‘It’s clear,’ Dave peers his head inside.

‘That should cheer Doc Roberts up a bit,’ I say.

‘Have they got Viagra?’ Cookey asks to a torrent of abuse from Nick and Blowers, I can hear Lani laughing too.

‘Do you need it then?’ Blowers asks.

‘No I was going to slip it in your water bottle for the next time we have a big scrap, it’d be funny as fuck watching you trying to fight with a boner,’ he laughs.

‘You want to watch me with a boner?’ Blowers asks in a serious tone.

‘Fuck yeah,’ Cookey laughs again missing the point, ‘no! Not like that…don’t be disgusting,’ he adds quickly.

‘Come on, where next?’ I lead back round to the stairs.  One corridor runs off at the back of the room with a large collection of signs indicating every possible type of medical department.  More signs are attached to the wall next to the stairs, indicating yet more departments.

‘Alright to come through?’ Pete shouts from the door we came through a minute ago.

‘Yeah it’s all clear mate,’ I yell back.

‘Bloody hell I can see that,’ he says striding over with his shotgun held in one hand.

‘Pharmacy is there mate,’ I nod towards the shuttered counter.

‘Yeah we got the door open, it had the old top middle and bottom locks but we er, well we bypassed them with our advanced door opening technique,’ Cookey says.

‘Big bloke kicked it open did he?’ Pete smiles and winks, ‘we’ve started loading from A and E and I’ll get the pharmacy done next, you checking the rest?’

‘I don’t know…do we need to? What else should we take?’ I ask around.

‘The doc just said to take everything, but I guess medicines, bandages and equipment are the priority,’ Pete answers.

‘Surgical stuff then I guess,’ I say, ‘where’s the surgery section? Operating rooms or whatever they’re called.’

‘Upstairs, but equipment covers pretty much everything that’s not medicine and bandages,’ Clarence says.

‘We should have brought one of the medical people with us,’ Lani suggests.

‘Yeah, we’ll do that next time.  Right, let’s go for the surgery place and get what we can.  We’ll have to leave a guard down here though as that corridor isn’t clear.  Blowers, you and Cookey hold here.’

‘Got it,’ Blowers nods as they both move away to take position facing the double doors

‘Shall we?’ I start up the stairs, holding my pistol double handed as Dave joins me at the front.  We reach the top and start down another long corridor with more doors leading off left and right.  Splitting into teams we work our way down, taking shots at the undead stood drooling in some of the rooms.

‘Shit, look at this,’ Nick calls out from inside a room.  We push inside to see a row of beds.  All of them surrounded by monitors and banks of equipment.  Dead bodies lie in the beds.  Normal dead bodies not turned or infected.

‘Life support machines,’ I say softly, ‘they must have died when the power went out.’

‘Why didn’t the zombies get them?’ Lani asks, ‘maybe they were already dead…like no signs of life or something.’

‘Just luck I think, fucking poor luck…missed by the zombies and dying when the machines went off,’ I reply.  The room is a stark difference to everywhere else.  Clean and free from any blood or debris.  The smell of death hangs in the warm air, but not the rancid stench of the undead.  Just normal death smell, still nasty but not as nasty.

‘We should take some of this equipment,’ Nick says softly.

‘Yeah I guess,’ I say and move to the first bed.  The wires lead to small sticky pads stuck to the corpses chest and arms.  More lines lead into veins via cannulas held in place by sticky tape.  Oxygen masks cover the mouths.  The corpse looks mottled with sunken yellowing skin.  Lifeless and sobering.  After so much gore the sight of an unharmed dead body is weird, looking round I can see the others must feel the same too as they’re all staring quietly at the bodies.

‘Poor buggers,’ Nick says.

‘Why? They died without pain,’ Lani replies, ‘no suffering, just slipped away quietly.’

‘So I reckon we just pull those sticky pads off and the cannulas…can’t see anything else,’ I look round the bed.  Reaching out I grip the first sticky pad and pull it away, it breaks free with a small section of flesh from the decaying skin.  ‘Well that ain't working,’ I stare down at the patch shaped hole in the corpses chest.

‘Er, hang on…I saw this on television,’ Lani says and leans over the body.  She pushes one finger onto the patch and yanks the wire free from it, leaving the patch in situ.

‘Oh so we just find more patches?’ I ask.

‘Got them, they’re on shelves under the machines,’ Dave holds a box up.  We work quickly, pulling the wires out and then rolling the machines out of the room into the corridor.  Once done we keep going, clearing rooms and marking bits of equipment we think would be useful, moving them out into corridor.

Breathless and sweating like crazy we keep going, radioing down to Pete and updated him of the things we find.  The drivers and guards work harder than we do, carrying and wheeling equipment down the long corridors and having to negotiate the manky bodies.  With little choice we have to keep stopping to take water on.  We run out within a couple of hours and end up raiding the café and shop.  The vans crews foolishly didn’t bring extra water with them and get a stern warning from Dave to prepare better next time.

Eventually we’re done.  Well the vans are filled anyway but the hospital is still filled with equipment.  Clarence finds the body of a paramedic in the corridor and checks through the pockets, coming up trumps with a set of keys for the ambulance.  Pete allocates one of the drivers and our convoy heads off.  Poor Tom taking a break from his position on the GPMG and sitting in the cooler back of the Saxon with a red face and drinking warm bottles of coke.

Our convoy moves off.  A whole morning with no disasters, nothing too uneventful either.  A first successful mission completed.

SIXTEEN

DAY THREE

Sat at the kitchen table, clutching a lukewarm mug of coffee the tears pour down his tanned cheeks.  His eyes swivel round the room that now feels so empty and hollow.  He found his way back more by luck than judgement.  His subconscious taking over and guiding his hands to steer the wheel and navigate back to the only safe place he now knows.

Self-loathing isn’t strong enough to describe the feeling inside his soul.  But one other emotion blots that out, an emotion so powerful that it drives all other thought and reason away.

Pity.

Now he’s alone and even more frightened than before.  His mind filling with images of Lucy stuck in the house surrounded by the monsters and just a flimsy English ply board bedroom door holding them back.  How long can she survive? Hours at the most before their combined weight forces the door open.  Even if they move slowly she’ll have the choice of jumping out of a first floor window into a group of them or trying to fend off the monsters coming through the house.

The anxiety increases by the second.  He bends over the table clutching his gurgling stomach.  The nerves and fear turning his insides to jelly.

What now? Stay here and try to survive I guess.  There’s plenty of food now, and the water is still running.  Use the candles and keep a low profile.  No, keep a non-existence profile.  One candle at night and only in the back bedroom when the curtains are drawn.  Yeah, do that.  But the thought of being alone in the dark house terrifies him even more.  Lucy’s words replay in his head over and over.  I will hunt you down. She was scared and panicking, knowing she was trapped as he fled in her car.  But those words, those final words, they spin round and round, twisting his mind.

Clutching his griping stomach he heads up the stairs and sits on the toilet.  His insides have liquefied and pour out his arse, filling the room with the fetid smell of shit.  He gags at his own stench, reviling in his demise and crying loud sobs at the sorry state he’s in.

Cleaned up he heads back downstairs, moving slowly from room to room, spying out the windows and constantly checking the perimeter.  He keeps looking over to the outbuilding, at the corpse still in situ with the pitchfork driven through its head.  Imagination in overdrive he imagines the corpse has shifted position the next time he checks it.  Surely it has, it’s further out now.  Someone is out there playing mind games with him.  He looks away and rubs his sore eyes, checks again but the corpse is still in the same place.

The seconds tick by slowly.  With no sound other than his own breathing and the footsteps his boots make as he creeps from room to room he flinches at every noise coming from outside.

Birds singing, foxes running through the yard and barking for their cubs, the house creaking as it heats up from the scorching summer sun.

Afternoon turns to evening turns to dusk turns to night and still he moves from room to room, checking the view, checking the perimeter.  The constant pattern soothes his troubled mind; the repeated action serves to ease the knot in his stomach.  Then, as darkness hits fully the tension ramps up as he loses sight of the corpse in the farmyard and is no longer able to see the perimeter.  A cloudless night and a bright moon but the area is heavily wooded, casting deeper shadows everywhere.

He drinks water and forgets to eat.  Collecting the candle and matches he feels his way through the hallway to the bottom of the stairs.  Pausing behind the door and straining his ears for any sounds.

The stairs creak loudly as he climbs up, wincing and inwardly cursing the loose wooden boards and Lucy for not having the house fixed up properly.  The thought of her catches in his throat and he whimpers softly, gripping the worn handrail and forcing himself to climb to the top.  I will hunt you down Paco Maguire. He should leave but he doesn't know anywhere else and it’s dark now, too late to be outside.  I will hunt you down.

In the bathroom he pee’s sitting down, afraid the sound of his urinating standing up will be too loud and could be heard from outside.  Groping his way into the bedroom he goes to the far corner and sits down, resting his back against the wall.  He slides a match out and softly strikes it along the course strip.  The light flares and even that soft noise sends a feeling of panic shooting up inside him.  He lights the candle and blows the match out, sitting back and trying to work out if the paltry flickering light can be seen through the curtains.

Thinking of outside his mind goes to Lucy again.  Images of her fighting for her life, screaming in panic as the door slowly drives inwards and the clawed hands reach through the gap to rake her skin.  Being slowly pushed back, inch by inch, knowing she’s doomed.  The terror she must have felt and the horror of knowing she’s going to die at the hands of those things.  The feeling of the teeth as they bite into her flesh, the blood pouring into her system.  Turning her.  Paco draws his knees up to his chest, his own body heat making him sweat in the sultry evening air.

Lucy, torn and bloodied, stumbling towards the cottage, her red bloodshot eyes fixed ahead as she makes her way through the lanes, I will hunt you down. She will come for me; she said she will hunt me down.  I left her to die alone and afraid.  She will come here to seek revenge.

His mind races with ever increasing grotesque pictures of Lucy with clawed hands and sharpened teeth, her skin pale and drawn.

As time goes by he tries to think of the distance, knowing she must be close.  He imagines her coming into the yard with her eyes fixed on the front door.  She must be halfway across the yard by now.  She will be at the door any second.  His mind races, waiting for the imagined bang of the front door.  When it doesn’t happen he convinces himself that she’s chosen to walk round the house and probe for weakness.  The twisted blood encrusted fingers feeling at windows and fingering the back door handle.  She’ll find a way in, remember a hidden key or just somehow open the door.  His mind fills with the thoughts of the Lucy creeping through the house, course ragged breaths and soft footsteps.  He knows that at some point the door will creak open and she will be there, dripping blood and staring at him with baleful eyes.

Gibbering with low moans he gently rocks back and forth, his heavily muscled arms bulging as he grips his thighs.

He prays to God, to Allah, to Jehovah and to Buddha.  He panics thinking there will be a vengeful left out god slighted by his wrong prayers so he prays to every god ever known or thought off.  He prays for the baby Jesus to show mercy, for Mary and Joseph to keep him safe.  He prays for the prophet Mohammed to give him strength and see him through this ordeal.

He doesn’t sleep.  Sleep would mean death.  Lucy is outside the door now, waiting and listening for the sound of his sleeping form.  He won’t give in to it.  He won’t give her what she wants.  He fights fatigue and thirst.  The sweat continues to seep from his brow and soak into already sodden clothes.

The candle burns down to a low nub, barely flickering as it fights for fuel.  He curses himself for not bringing another candle up.  But it’s too late now.  It can’t be that long until dawn.  The candle burns bright, flickers and fades out, plunging him into blackness and the absolute worse state of terror he has ever known.

Paco squeezes his eyes closed then as the first tugs of sleep threaten to pull him under he opens them wide and stares into the darkness.  Colours and lights flash as he searches for anything other than darkness. He stares at the window and finds the tiniest flicker of moonlight coming through a bare patch in the material.  He seizes on it and stares until his eyes sting and water.  Still he doesn’t blink but makes himself feel that pain, knowing it will keep him awake.

Hours go by, fear filled hours until eventually and achingly slowly he finds the room gradually getting lighter.  The shadows seem less now, the black blurring to grey until he can make the outline of the bed out.  Then the door.  He can see the door and more importantly that it’s still closed.  He waits longer until the light is strong and slowly stretches his aching legs out.

Rubbing his thighs and kneading his calf muscles he rolls onto all fours and crabs over to the window.  Rising up inch by inch and gently pulling the curtain back.  He gains the view of outside, it all looks normal, everything is the same.  But this is the back of the house.  He needs to see the front and be sure she isn’t coming for him.

He edges over to the door and eases it open, it creaks too much so he slows down and moves it millimetre by millimetre.  Lucy isn’t there.  Leaning out he checks both ends of the short corridor.  All clear.  He moves out and creeps gently towards the front bedroom.  The door is half open and he can squeeze through without having to touch it and make noise.  He crouches down once inside the room and starts heading towards the window.  No curtain here and he waits until he’s right below the sill before he starts to lift up.  The movement has caused him to sweat and he can hear the drops of liquid falling from his chin and hitting the bare floorboards under his feet.

His forehead crests the windowsill; he lifts higher until he can see the tops of the trees.  He keeps going until he gets a full view of the yard.  He breathes a huge sigh of relief at the sight of the clear open ground.  The corpse is still there with the pitchfork still jammed in its head.  Everything is the same.

Paco rubs his eyes and feels the fatigue crashing through his system.  He survived the night and now it’s daylight, he can sleep for a few hours and rest.

He stands up and leans his sweating forehead against the cool glass, opening his eyes he slowly scans his eyes across the yard to the entrance of the lane and Lucy stood there staring up at him.  Her pale skin covered in red glistening blood, her arms hanging limply at her sides.  The rest of the horde behind her.

SEVENTEEN

DAY ELEVEN

‘How was it?’ Chris asks striding out from the gates with a number of men and women behind him.  They head straight to the vans and start unloading the equipment and supplies.

‘Straightforward, which worries me as nothing bad happened,’ I reply.

‘Yeah I know what you mean, every half hour right?’

‘Fact Chris, we had contact, the hospital was crawling with them but it kind of served a purpose as it kept everyone else away by the looks of it.  Not sure if what we got was any good as none of us really know anything about medical equipment but we got the contents of the pharmacy and some surgical stuff from some store rooms near the operating rooms.’

‘That should keep Doc Roberts happy for maybe an hour,’ he says drily, ‘this heat is too much Howie.  They’re wilting in there.  We’ve had to open the back gate so the kids can go in the sea and cool off.’

‘That’s not a bad thing is it?

‘Not really, it feels like there’s no air…’

‘Clarence said he’d been in cooler deserts than this.’

‘Deserts are different, they got dry heat.  This is humid, sticky and making everyone snap,’ he pours water onto a piece of cloth and rubs his neck and face.

‘Howie, are you okay to go back out once we’ve unloaded?’ Sergeant Hopewell walks from the gate, her hat is now gone and her hair is plastered to her red forehead.  Terri walks behind her swigging from a bottle of water.

‘Straight to the point Debbie,’ Chris grimaces.

‘Sorry,’ she frowns and visibly slows her walking pace down as if that will also slow her fast moving mind, ‘it’s this heat, unbearable,’ she mutters.  ‘Everything alright?’ she offers me a smile.

‘I was just saying to Chris it was an easy run really, lot of contact but they were all slow.’

‘Well that’s good then, so the next trip?’ She prompts.

‘No worries, the van crews didn’t take any water with them, but other than that yeah we’re ready to go.’

‘Good, next on the priority is this little town marked on the map.  I’m reliably informed there are two well stocked chemists there plus a supermarket, a cash and carry warehouse and a DIY store.’

‘Christ, do you want all of them done?’ I step back to shake the beads of sweat off my head.

‘Well yes, that’s the general idea,’ she replies, ‘oh and there’s a medical centre used for out-patients.  They want that done too.’

‘Right,’ I sigh as Clarence walks over to join me.  He takes the map and the looks at the attached bit of paper listing the various stores.  ‘Debbie, we struggled at the hospital not knowing what to take exactly.  Can you spare anyone to come with us?’

‘These aren’t hospitals Howie,’ she remarks in a rather patronising tone, ‘empty the chemists, get whatever food you can from the supermarket and the cash and carry and then the DIY store.’

‘And the medical centre?’

‘Yes that too, just grab what you can,’ she adds.

‘That hospital was full of equipment, grabbing what we can might not be the right thing.  There could be vital things we’re missing.’

‘That was a hospital Howie, this is a medical centre therefore it will be smaller with less stock.’

‘You said it was used by out-patients so it will still have supplies.’

‘And you take them,’ she says too quickly.  I take a breath and bite my tongue while Clarence clears his throat.

‘Tell you what,’ Chris interjects, ‘get this run done and if we have another hospital then we’ll make sure we’ve got someone from the medical team with you.’

‘Fine,’ I reply.

‘The medical team are too valuable to be put at risk like that,’ Debbie argues, ‘we shouldn’t be sending them anywhere.’

‘And we aren’t valuable then?’ Clarence bridles.

‘You’re not a bloody doctor are you?’ Debbie snaps back.

‘Okay okay,’ Chris steps forward, ‘it’s hot, everyone is snapping.  The lads will get this run done and we’ll see where we go from there.  Happy?’ He looks round at everyone.

‘S’fine,’ Clarence mutters.

‘Good, I’m glad we understand each other,’ Debbie adds stiffly and walks off leaving Terri staring at her retreating form and looking back at us with an apologetic expression.

‘Nick!’ I call out, ‘You got a spare cigarette?’ I turn and walk off, quietly seething from her abrupt and patronising tone.  Cookey pops out from the back of the Saxon and hands me a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.  His plain expression makes it clear they’ve all heard the conversation.

‘Cheers mate,’ I light one up and inhale.

‘You okay?’ Lani appears holding two bottles of water out for me and Clarence.

‘Yeah, it’s this heat,’ I make an excuse for the way she spoke.

‘And we’re expendable,’ Clarence mutters, ‘story of my bloody life that is.’

‘We can’t be The Expendables,’ Cookey says quietly, ‘it’s already been done.’

‘Good movie,’ Clarence nods before swigging from his bottle of water.

‘You could have been in that film,’ Cookey says to him, ‘you look like one of them.’

‘You’re not the first to say that,’ Chris cuts in.

‘She was rude,’ Clarence turns on big Chris.

‘Yes she was,’ he says plainly, ‘what do you expect? Tea and medals? She’s worth her weight in gold and with everything going on a bit of rudeness is the least of our worries.’ His tone brings our egos back down to size and we nod back feeling a little humbled.

‘The vans are ready and I heard what you said, Kelly is getting someone from the engineering lot to go with you for when you do the DIY store….’

‘Are we going to have enough room in the vans Chris? Supermarkets, chemists and the warehouse place…’

‘It’s taken care off; you got two more vans going with you.’

‘Fucking hell Chris,’ Clarence flares up again, ‘there’s only eight of us.  How the hell are we supposed to guard five bloody vans and crews and clear the buildings too?’

‘The vans have armed guards, they can protect their own vehicles and you focus on the buildings.’

‘They’ve got shotguns Chris, double barrelled shotguns that take time to re-load.’

‘What do you want Clarence? We’re keeping the other assault rifles here.  You’ve just got to do the best you can.  Everyone has to.’

‘If we get a heavy contact those guards will be fucked,’ Clarence seethes, his already flushed face going a deeper shade of red.

‘And you’ve got a fucking great big machine gun on your armoured fucking vehicle and the best fighters this fort have are with you.  Cope!’ Chris snarls back.

‘Clarence,’ I say in a low tone and surprisingly he backs down.  Glancing at me with a single nod.

‘Sorry boss,’ he growls.

‘We’ll do the best we can Chris,’ I try my hand at diplomacy.

‘I’ve told the vans crews that if it goes bent they’re to just focus on getting back here with whatever they’ve got,’ Chris explains in a calm voice but his face still looks angry.

‘Sounds good mate, have many more turned up here today?’

‘A few, we get a steady trickle all the time.  Word must be spreading or something.’

‘Ah that’s us, we’re putting posters up and leaving flyers on car windscreens,’ I say with a smile.

‘Well can you stop it please, zombies can read you know,’ he smiles back easing the tension.

‘Come on then,’ I speak up so everyone can hear me, ‘load up.’  I take the driving position again this time with Dave up front and Clarence squeezing his frame into the hole to man the heavy machine gun.

‘Right, we’re off,’ the engine starts with a roar and we pull out, going past the vans to the front.  They pull out behind us and I glance round quickly to see the others sat quietly in the back.  Heads dropping as they doze in the hot air.  Lani in the corner with her feet stretched out and her head resting on a bundled up jacket.

‘Has anyone got a hat? My head is going to burn.’ Clarence calls down to a few low sniggers.

They rummage about until Dave pulls an old camouflage wide brimmed sun hat from a dusty cupboard.  He bangs the material against his leg a few times to get the muck and grime off before handing it up.

‘Christ, I haven’t seen one of these for years,’ Clarence chuckles.  Climbing back into the passenger seat Dave settles back and takes a long drink from a bottle of Lucozade.  He bends over his bag and drags another one out, unscrewing the cap and handing it to me.’

‘Cheers Dave,’ I gulp at the warm syrupy liquid.

‘Simon, get those back doors open.  There will be a catch to hold them in place, get some airflow in here,’ Dave calls out and twists back round to face the front.

‘Why do call them Simon and Alex?’ I ask him quietly.

‘That’s their names Mr Howie,’ he replies.

‘Everyone else calls them Blowers and Cookey.’

‘They do but the lads need to have that different regard for me which is maintained by using a different more formal manner of addressing them.’

‘So if we all called them Simon and Alex you’d be calling them by their surnames?’

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

‘Oh, okay. You do fit into the sergeant’s role very well.’

‘I know Mr Howie,’ he says bluntly.

‘The room clearances went well I thought.’

‘They did, they need more practise though.’

‘We all do! But I think we’ll get that by the looks of the list they’ve given us.’

‘Maybe we could it with just knives next time?’

‘Just knives? That sounds a bit dangerous mate.’

‘More dangerous than charging a horde of the undead with one magazine and a bayonet?’ He replies quickly and I know full well he’s referring to the service station when I exited from the back to reach the Saxon.

‘That was an act of necessity, what you’re proposing isn’t.’

‘Knife skills are a necessity; they won’t always have guns with bullets.’

‘True, so what…just with their bayonets then?’

‘Yes, but held free hand and not fixed on.  I’ll be with them to make sure nothing bad happens,’ his tone isn’t bragging, just matter of fact.

‘They’ve had plenty of practise with the axes and Lani is already brilliant with a knife.’

‘Axes have range Mr Howie and they are also easy to drop or slip from wet hands.  Nothing beats a knife.’

‘A gun.’

‘Sorry Mr Howie?’

‘A gun beats a knife.’

‘Only if it has bullets.’

‘A sword then that beats a knife.’

‘Swords take years to learn how to use, plus there are many different types of swords.’

‘Same with knives.’

‘To an extent yes, but a knife either slashes or cuts.  Swords parry, thrust, block, sweep…’

‘Okay okay, so nothing beats a knife?’

‘No.  Quiet, easily hidden, you can open a vein or penetrate the heart.  Instant death, slow death, disable the target without killing it.’

‘Jesus Dave, so what is your favourite type of knife?’

‘Oh I don’t have a favourite,’ he suddenly looks animated and turns to face me, something he rarely does when we converse, normally choosing to watch the area around us, ‘I have often thought what would be my favourite one but I don’t think I could choose.  There are some great knives out there, perfectly balanced for throwing, or long and thin for thrusting, then you get the big ones which are good for hacking…’

‘If you had to choose one?’

‘I couldn’t Mr Howie.  I like the variety of them.  So many different styles, weights, handles and grips.  Chefs knives are very good, and butchers knives too.’

‘Right…I see.  So we know what to get for your birthday then?’

‘What?’

‘Eh?’ I glance at him.

‘What will you get for my birthday?’ he asks seriously.

‘Knives Dave, we’ll get you some knives.’

‘I’ve got loads already.’

‘Yeah I know, it was a…’

‘Can I choose them? I know birthday presents are meant to be a surprise but firstly I don’t like surprises,’ an image of Dave walking into a darkened room that suddenly fills with light and everyone shouting surprise flits through my mind, followed by Dave slaughtering half of them before they’ve got halfway through the word, ‘and also Mr Howie, I might already have the same knives you would get, plus I might not like the ones you get which could lead to you being offended when I tell you I don’t want it.’

‘Would you say that then?’

‘Say what?’

‘If I gave you a present and you didn’t like it would you say you didn’t like it.’

‘Yes.’

‘But…right…yeah I guess that’s the best thing.’

‘So can I choose my own birthday knife please?’

‘Yes mate…I didn’t actually mean…no, no of course we can do that, we’ll go knife shopping.’

‘Okay.’

‘When is your birthday? That might help.’

‘Today,’ he replies.

‘What? Are you bloody joking? Why didn’t you say something?’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes what?’

‘Sorry, Yes Mr Howie.’

‘No I wasn’t correcting the way you replied, I meant what are you saying yes to?’

‘Oh, that it was a joke.’

‘What? So it’s not your birthday?’

‘No.’

‘Fuck’s sake,’ I shake my head with a chuckle, ‘so when is your birthday? And how old are you?’

‘I’m…’

‘Mr Howie,’ Blowers calls out quickly, ‘I think you just missed the turn off.’

‘Eh? Did I? Shit, is there another one?’

‘Not for a few miles,’ he replies.  I glance round to see him holding the map and wonder why he’s doing it instead of Dave.

‘Right, bollocks.  I’ll turn round and head back,’ I slow the Saxon down and start to turn round in the wide motorway.  The Saxon has the turning circle of an oil tanker and it takes several attempts to get it facing back the other way.  Five big vans all wait with grinning drivers and guards waving at us as we slowly head back past them.  I keep the speed low until they’ve all turned and behind us then move down to the junction, bouncing over the rough surface to turn onto the slip road.

‘If any of the guards have infantry training they could man the GPMG while we do room clearance,’ Dave suggests once we’re back on the right road.

‘Good idea,’ I reply.

‘Gives us two teams of four then,’ he adds.

‘Take the next left,’ Blowers shouts from the back.  I take the turn; leaning forward and trying to let the intense heat between my back and seat dissipate.  This is oppressively hot, I feel lethargic and de-motivated, which is a dangerous state of mind with what we’re now doing.

‘You got any more Lucozade Dave?’ I think I’m going to need it.

EIGHTEEN

DAY SIX

The small town in the south of England is being gradually purged.  Bodies litter nearly every street.  The decaying corpses left to rot in the sun and eaten by rats before they too turned and headed off deep into the sewers, urged on to Howie and his group in the service station.

Now, after six long days of unbroken hot weather the bodies are diseased and infested with maggots.

She moves down the street, sticking to the shadows.  Her bulk slightly diminished from the constant action, food growing scarcer by the day.  The streams that ran through the soft ground have dwindled to a trickle but they serve he purpose to provide water and a place to cool down.

Every day she searches the town, seeking the things and destroying them quickly.  Her skills now honed to an almost perfect pattern.  She sizes the things up, working out the best angle of approach.  The bigger ones are taken down by a leap to the chest or back as she uses her body weight to slam them down and rip their throats out.  The smaller ones are simply ragged about until the life leaves them.

Every street has signs of her battles.  Every corpse has her teeth marks on them.  She patrols and still feels the sense of loss from her pack being gone.

She’s met other people here and there, skulking through the roads during the daytime, packs together and single ones trying to escape.  When she sees them she makes noise and runs.  But now the people panic and run away from her.  They throw things and make loud noise.

She senses their fear and wags her tail to show she’s happy, not aggressive.  They don’t see the signs and keep her at bay.  She senses these packs don’t want her and keeps her distance.

The dog picks out where the dens are that still have people inside, they don’t show themselves but she can smell them.

By late afternoon on the sixth day she’s following a new scent trail that clings to the ground.  Someone moving through here just a short time ago.  The path she follows is jerky, seemingly going left and right between the big things left on the road.  The scent smells of the living but there is a strong smell of fear here too.  Fear and terror that pours from the trail.  It must be a little one.  Only a little one would leave a trail of fear like this.

A little one alone in the open.  She follows the trail weaving back and forth across the street.  The trail leads to the entrance doors of the dens but never goes across the threshold.  It swerves and deviates between the big things.

Closer now, the smell is stronger, fresher and not yet contaminated by the overriding stench of death and decay.

She pauses and feels the sudden change in air pressure.  The sky darkens with thick cloud.  Fat drops of water splatter the ground and she looks up as a torrential downpour commences.

Within seconds her coat is soaked and surface water is running everywhere.  She laps at the fresh sweet tasting water and savours the cooling effect of the liquid soaking her fur.  Dropping her nose she can just make the scent trail out and starts off trying to follow it but loses it when the water becomes too powerful and washes all grounds smells away.

Sheets of rain lash the road, drumming on the cars and vehicles as the dog shakes her body, sending thick splatters of rain high up and to the sides.  The sky is grey and overcast, the heat gone for just a few minutes.

The little one must be here somewhere.  The scent trail was recent and judging by the erratic route already taken it could be just a little further ahead.

Her sense of smell is ruined for a short time, hearing diminished too from the percussion of raindrops all around.  Left with just eye sight she moves on, moving over to walk down the middle of the road.  Her eyes are not as sharp or clear as humans but they are excellent motion detectors.  The predator using her nose to find the smell, then her ears to find the direction and finally her eyes to look for flight of the prey.

She pushes on, pausing every few minutes to lap at the water and shake her coat.  At the end of the road she holds still, waiting in the middle of the junction and looking down each side in turn.  The cadavers left here are pelted with rain.  The congealed and dried blood loosens from the incessant action of the raindrops causing little pink streams and tributaries to flow along.

She sits down in the flowing water and waits.  Checking each side and looking for any signs of where the little one went.

NINETEEN

DAY SIX

‘Damn that’s a big dog,’ Paco mutters to himself.  A trait he has developed after spending the last few days alone.  After seeing Lucy stood outside he panicked and ran screaming down the stairs.  Such was the fear and tension that exploded from him and warped his mind he ran straight out of the front door and froze on the spot at the sight of them all.  They must have been moving all night to have got there so quickly.

Paco simply ran away.  Not taking into account their slow daytime shuffle or stopping to get supplies.  He ran.  Round the back of the house and deep into the woods.  He kept running.  Fear driving him.  Terror propelling his legs.  Panic pumping his lungs and heart.  Without sleeping all night he still maintained a steady few miles before slowing to a fast walk and getting his breathing back under control.

After that he kept moving, not wanting to stay anywhere for more than a few hours.  He kept to the woods for the rest of that day, drinking water from streams and refusing to listen to his starving stomach.

By evening he realised he had a choice of staying in the open or finding somewhere to hole up.  But both options presented terrifying scenarios that whipped up gruesome images in his mind.  Out in the open where they could get to him with ease, or somewhere inside where he could get trapped.

By dusk he was on the outskirts of a town, watching fields give way to streets and roads and the rural slowly change to the suburban and then the urban.  Finding some shops on the main town access road he hunkered down and watched the front for any movement.  He needed food, any food.  Having not eaten the previous day or during the night and after the many hours of nervous energy, staying awake and then running all day he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep going without sustenance.

The shops looked looted, windows smashed and doors ripped off.   He edged closer and closer, moving between abandoned vehicles and dropping down every few metres to listen and watch.  Finally satisfied he sprinted the last few metres to the first door and crept inside.

The floor was littered with debris but fortunately no blood or monsters.  Rummaging through the litter he found a bottle of cola, a few chocolate bars and bags of potato chips.  Scooping them up he retreated to a corner and with both eyes fixed in the front door he devoured it all within a couple of minutes.

The sugary drink felt wonderful and he felt his limbs shaking from the rush of quick fix energy.  He checked along the floor and quickly peered under the shelving units, finding more bottles of fizzy drink and junk food.  Snatching them up he ran outside, not wanting to push his luck too far and risk getting trapped.

Round the back of the shops he found a long row of flat roofed garages and lock up units.  A ladder lying on its side propped against a wall.  He took the ladder and used it to climb onto the concrete roof of the garages, pulling the ladder up behind him.  He skirted the edge, checking all the sides were too high for anyone to jump or climb up without using something.  It was the best he could do so he went to the front and lay down behind the low wall.  The rest of the food was gone quickly and he lay stretched out on his back, knowing he couldn’t be seen from the ground.

It took less than ten minutes for his eyes to start drooping, and another five minutes before he submitted to the lure of sleep.

As the night fell properly he heard the howls for the first time.  The song of the undead as they faced the moon and roared their hunger out.  Coming awake instantly with wide eyes he felt the hairs on his arms and neck standing up.  The howls were coming from every direction but none of them were that close.  They went on for ages, freezing his stomach and sending his blood pounding through his ears.  When they ended suddenly he stayed completely stock still, repeating the prayers he practised so well the night before.  With his lips moving silently his heart rate gradually slowed down to a steady rhythm and once more his eyes fell closed.

Since then he’d kept moving during the day, not knowing where he was going and finding different places to hide.  He rested for only a few hours at a time, believing that if stayed anywhere for longer than that the monsters would find him.

In his mind Lucy was stalking him with the pitchfork monster.  They led a horde of monsters intent on finding him and devouring his living flesh.  Revenge for leaving her trapped and causing her death.

Because of that very fact, that Lucy had become trapped so easily, he avoided going in any houses unless he was either absolutely desperate for water or food and there was no other choice.  Even then, the very houses he did enter were checked quickly, food and drink was snatched up and taken somewhere else to consume.

Six days in and when he felt the first drops of rain he smiled for the first time in days.  Beautiful, life giving fresh clean water pouring from the sky.  He stopped moving for a few minutes and stood with his face turned up, savouring the feeling of the cool water drenching his face.  Mouth open and drinking it down, he scrubbed at his face feeling the grease and grime that coated his skin.

Then he saw the dog walking out of the junction a couple of hundred metres away.  He hunkered down quickly, using a car to shield him from view.  He tried using the windows to peer through but the rain was cascading down them and obscuring his view.

‘What you doin’ boy?’ He murmured to himself poking his head round the corner and glimpsing the dog just sat there.  The rain was sheeting down, reducing visibility.  With his heart hammering in fright at the size of the beast and the way it was just sat there looking up and down the road.  Was it tracking him? Looking for a tasty meal? The thought suddenly hit him making his stomach drop and his blood run cold.  A monster dog.  It was a monster dog searching for him.  Lucy and the pitchfork man must be following it somewhere.  Shit! How did he let them get so close?

The sight of all the bodies had already unnerved him, corpses littering every street and road.  Body after body with their throats ripped out, blood, gore, bits of flesh everywhere.  He’d only ventured this far into the town to look for more food and he terrified himself with images of whatever had done this amount of killing.  But all the dead bodies were monsters; he could see that much was clear from the open eyes staring out lifeless but still red and bloodshot and their mouths covered in blood and old festering wounds.

He had to move now and use the noise of the rain to cover his retreat.  If it stopped raining the dog would find him easily.  Moving backwards he crept along the side of the next car, feeling with his hands for the end of the vehicle and quickly tucking in behind it.

Eyes fixed up the street where the dog was still sat he retreated one car length at a time, beating a hasty withdrawal.  Clothes sodden and clinging to his frame, the muscles of his arms bulging against the wet material, his shoulders flexed as he stretched his arm back feeling for the end of the car, his big thighs tensed from holding a crouched position.

He was getting further away, just a bit further and he could turn and run.  Find somewhere to hide and wait for the dog to go.  It might not be able to track him with all this water on the ground.

Easing round the front of the next car he kept his left arm flexed back, feeling along the metal side.  Past the first door and he felt for the rubber edging of the window on the next door.  Sliding his hand along the smooth glass and feeling the edge.  Now the rear panel and he lowered his hand to gently rub along the side as it curved in.  He was there, at the back of the next car.  One more to go and he could run.  The rain was still coming down with such fury that he couldn’t see the end of the street where the dog was but prayed that it wouldn’t come bounding towards him.

Creeping back with his hand still stretched out he groped and made small circular motions, feeling for the next vehicle.  His fingertips brushed something, he moved back and extended his hand.  With his focus firmly on the road he failed to register the soft yielding nature of the thing he was groping.

Eyes suddenly wide, mouth dropping open he twisted his upper body slowly round, his hand still pressing against the softness.  It moved and he yelped, staggering out into the street and tripping over a corpse.  Sprawled out he stared back in utter horror at the monster shuffling towards him.  The red eyes clear through the rain and blood washed from its face to reveal sunken cheeks and pale dirty yellowing skin.

Whimpering in alarm Paco crabbed backwards, his hands groping and plunging into the decaying chest of another corpse.  He scrabbled his feet which slipped on the wet surface.  Bringing his hand up he looked in horror at the entrails hanging from his fingers.  Screaming he backed away, hands and feet whirling like crazy but his body refused to work in harmony, the monster kept coming.  Lips pulled back to show filthy teeth and the drooling saliva pouring out to mix with the water cascading down its face.

Paco crabbed and slithered, tripping over more bodies and landing heavily.  Screaming in terror, this was it, this was the end.  The monster had him.  The head was lowering, the upper body bending as it prepared for the final lunge that would see his flesh stripped from his body.

Frozen in the grip of fear he clenched his eyes shut and gave a final prayer.  The monster barked and snarled and came at him with a drumming noise.  The drums of death coming for him.  The monster barked again, louder and closer.  Paco opened his eyes as the dog sprinted through the sheeting rain, puddles splashing as its feet pounded over the road.  The monster came in for the lunge and was gone.  A flash of black and was Paco staring up at the grey sky.

A ferocious snarling snapped him back, the dog had the thing between its teeth ragging it up and down the street.  Gripping the neck and shaking with violent fury.  Paco sat there mesmerised at the power of the beast, the strength it had was awesome, flinging the monster about like a rag doll.  The dog ripped the throat out and sank its teeth back into the wound, gnashing and tearing with almighty snarls emanating from its throat.

The dog stepped back and stared down at the corpse of the monster as though willing it get back up and try again.  It stepped back again and shook its head, sending bloodied water spraying off in all directions.  Then it turned its huge head and fixed its gaze on Paco.  Soft beautiful brown eyes surrounded by black hair with flecks of brown.  White teeth clear from its open mouth, long pink tongue hanging out.

The dog padded slowly towards Paco who remained frozen to the spot on his arse with his hands holding his upper body up, legs slightly bent.  He might be fit but even he couldn’t outrun a dog and the animal was huge with a thick coat, long legs and solid shoulders.  Its big head was held high, it paused to drop down and lap at the puddled water then kept coming.

He’d survived the monster to die from a dog.  Paco Maguire, the world’s most successful action movie star, survivor of Armageddon, killed by a wild dog in some shitty English street.  Only there would be no one to report this, no worldwide press coverage or people rushing out to buy his movies.  No star on Hollywood Boulevard.  No one would miss him.  Dying alone and forgotten.  He missed home, he missed his family.  Tears poured from his eyes as he gave a final prayer.  The dog was so close now.  Moving slowly and willing its prey to run or do something.  But Paco couldn’t move, the fear crippled him.

The rain was coming down like arrows, straight from the sky to the ground but behind the dog there was water flying up to the left and right.  His eyes stared at the phenomenon as his brain slowly registered that the dog was wagging its tail.  The black bushy tail was moving from side to side, definitely wagging.  Was that something they did before a kill? He thought back to the nature programmes he’d watched but couldn’t recall ever seeing anything like it.  It must be happy to have found a nice juicy meal.

The dog stopped moving.  They locked eyes.  Paco on his arse in the pouring rain and the dog stood within arm’s reach staring across at him.  Seconds passed.  Neither of them moved, apart from the tail which wagged slowly.

The dog sat down and Paco looked down its belly at the lack of male genitalia.

‘A girl?’ he muttered to himself, ‘you’re a girl dog.’  The dog’s ears pricked and rotated forward.  They stared at each other.  It didn’t look like it was about to eat him.

‘Hi,’ Paco whispered so quietly but the dog’s ears pricked again and it stared hard at him.  ‘Good girl,’ Paco tried the ultimate dog greeting and watched as the animal cocked its head to one side, the tail moving decidedly faster now.

‘Good girl,’ Paco said it again, louder this time and got the same reaction.  It was sure not looking like it was about to rip his throat out, but those teeth…they were so big and sharp.

The dog whimpered and edged closer, dipping her head.  She lowered down onto her tummy and whined again, edging closer, tail still going.

‘Good girl,’ Paco repeated and watched as the dog whined again and shuffled closer almost touching him.  He stared at the dogs face, at her pleading brown eyes, she whined again softly.

He gently lifted his arm from behind him and brought it across his chest.  The fingers stretched out and ever so slowly moving towards the dog’s head.  It saw the movement and shuffled closer, its paws now brushing the side of his leg.

Holding his breath and expecting the dog to lunge and remove his fingers before leaping to rip his throat out.  His heart still hammering, thud thud thud in his chest.  The world stopped spinning, time froze.  Everything became still as his fingertips brushed the dogs face.  It didn’t savage him but stayed still.  He brushed again, firmer this time, still it didn’t attack him.  He pressed his palm onto the top of the dog’s broad head and stroked along its soft wet fur.  The tail wagged faster and she whined again.

‘Good girl!’ Paco said. The dog lifted up quickly and pushed into him, rubbing her head against his chest, whining in soft tones.  ‘Hey beautiful,’ Paco muttered and rubbed the dog’s head harder, bringing his other hand up to stroke along her back.  It was too much for Paco, too surreal.  He laughed loud and hugged the dog, holding her soaking wet body close.  She didn’t pull away but lowered down until her upper body was resting on his legs, her head thrown up as he stroked her soft muzzle.  She pushed into him harder, her weight and strength knocking him back onto the ground.  He laughed with delight as the dog stood over him and started licking his neck and ears.  He ruffled her fur, stroked her ears and laughed with abandoned glee.

She whined louder and moved round him, taking care not to tread on his body.  He laughing, her with tail going crazy and they relished in the first contact that either of them had experienced in days.

Paco rubbed her shoulders, feeling the solid muscle packed in, he rubbed her tummy and stroked her thick neck.  She moved to the side, dropping down as he bent over her.  Laughing and fussing her.  She rolled onto her side, letting him rub her tummy and boxing out with her paws.  Paco got to his feet, took two steps back and patted his thighs.  She responded instantly, jumping up and walking quickly towards him, holding a paw out and whining.  Laughter came from his throat as he bent over and fussed her again.  She snaked round his legs, weaving round his body and pressing herself against him.

‘Boy am I glad to meet you,’ Paco laughed, ‘I thought you were a monster dog, I did! I thought you were going to eat Paco but you didn’t did you? No, you saved Paco and was a very good girl,’ the sound of his own voice was pleasant and he kept the baby talk up as they fussed and moved with each other.

The dog sensed the fear in him.  After hearing him scream she ran through the rain and took the thing down.  She knew it was going to kill the man so she killed it first.  The man stayed down and she could tell he was cowering in terror.  He was a big man, much bigger than most other men but liquid fell from his eyes like the little one did.  He seemed like a little one, the nerves and fear in him was just like a little one.

She stayed low, showing him she was not a threat.  When he touched her head the connection was made and she felt a flood of chemicals coursing through her system as he stroked and patted her.  The noises he made were soft and pleasant.  She licked his neck and pushed against him enjoying the feel of another body.

Then he laughed, she remembered the sound of it from the pack.  He laughed like the little one used to laugh only deeper and louder, but it was a nice sound and she knew it meant he was happy.

The fear was still there, inside him.  She could sense it and it made her protective instinct that much stronger.

TWENTY

While most of the undead pour from the towns and cities to join Darren on his quest south to the fort, some remain.  There are other threats than the one posed by Howie and Dave.  More killers of the host bodies that have to be dealt with.

The infection knows this and it also knows it has suffered too many losses from the one that hasn’t turned.  The infection knows this is an animal and from the collective conscious of the hosts it controls it can understand everything there is to know about the dog.  What it cannot comprehend is why it has not turned.

Through the many eyes of the host bodies it knows the dog has taken in the blood and juices from its victims and that blood carries the infection onwards.  From that collective conscious and the amassed intelligence it has knowledge of anti-bodies, of genetic mutations, DNA, cell structure so it can accept the dog could be a fluke.  A one off that carries a gene that produces a chemical that renders it immune to the infection.  What it cannot accept is why the domestic pet is killing so many hosts.

The dog can’t be turned so it is there-fore irrelevant to the infection.  It does not have human intelligence and cannot communicate. The dog is a pack animal with a life span far less than the humans and without food and water it will surely die soon.  So why is it killing the hosts?  The infection could accept if the dog was taking a few host bodies for food, but it doesn’t eat them.

The dog hunts the host bodies, tracks them down and kills them.  The numbers are mounting and with the infection drawing on resources to join Darren it knows it cannot withstand such losses.

The dog must be destroyed.  Hosts will have to be left back from the exodus to join Darren so they can find the dog and destroy it.

This is fact and it must be done soon.

TWENTY-ONE

DAY ELEVEN

The mother sits in the back of the van, her baby clasped in her arms and her toddler son sat next to her on the wheel arch.

‘Water?’ The Polish man asks with a heavy accent and waves a bottle at her.

‘Thank you,’ she replies wearily, taking the water and first giving some to her son then herself.  The occupants of the van talk quietly amongst themselves, men women and children and all of them Polish.  Some speak English and they make an effort to include her.

Bangs sound out from the front and a muted exchange of Polish words takes places, a message is passed which seems to revive them all from flagging in the oppressive heat of the vehicle.

The mother already knows what has been said, she can tell from the reactions that they must be close to their destination.

‘We close now yes?’  A woman leans forward and touches her arm, smiling through tired looking eyes and holding her own baby close.

‘Thank you,’ the mother says.  Since leaving her house the going has been hard.  Far harder than she could ever imagined life could be.  The fuel in the car was gone within a day of aimlessly driving about, trying to find something but not knowing what or where.

On foot they moved from village to village.  During the day she had to risk entering houses and searching for food and drink, knowing she had to eat to produce milk for her baby and provide for her son.  At night she found places and secured them into one of the upstairs back rooms, urging and threatening her son not to make a sound during the hours of darkness.

Several times the baby woke her, gurgling and making ready to wail.  She pacified her quickly, giving the breast and feeding whenever she cried in a desperate attempt to keep her quiet.  Sod the instruction of the midwife and the lessons she learnt with her son, don’t always give the baby a feed when it cries or you’ll make a rod for yourself. Yeah right, try doing that when your surrounded by undead things.

The mother saw other survivors here and there, families that were polite but didn’t want the added responsibility of more mouths to feed, or a screaming baby to take care off.  The Polish were different though.  They had stayed all together in one house, the men going out to find whatever meagre supplies they could and eking them out to make sure everyone ate.

They took her in readily enough and she in turn helped with the other children and babies.  The men came back yesterday, saying they’d heard from other survivors of a fort on the coast, one that was filled with doctors, soldiers and police officers.  It was already late in the day, too late to travel and risk being outside so they stayed put for the night and prepared to leave.

Now, after being in the intense heat of the van for several hours while they drove around the south coast they finally found the road leading to the fort.  Passing through the ruined housing estate and looking at the people working to pile the bodies into mounds.

They passed over the flatlands, the driver eyeing the fort in the distance and praying it would be all they hoped for.

A man with a shotgun waved them down and indicated for them to pull up on the side.  Other people and cars were in front of them, being asked questions from people holding clipboards and dressed like police officers.

He relayed what he could see through the bulkhead, shouting that there was order here, a queue and people with guns and clipboards.

‘We open the back yes?’ The driver asked the guard.

‘Do what mate?’ The guard came closer to the window and cupped one ear, indicating the man to repeat what he said.

‘The back? We open it yes? It very hot.’

‘Eh? Oh you got people in there ‘ave ya? Yeah mate, open it up they’ll bleedin’ melt in that oven.’

‘I open yes?’ The man asked with a confused look on his face, not understanding much of what was just said.

‘Yes mate, that’s what I said didn’t I?’

The driver, still not fully sure of the answer, climbed down and walked slowly to the rear doors, pointing and gesturing, nodding the whole time.  The doors were opened to the relieved sounds of the occupants clambering out looking red faced and very flushed.

‘Is good yes?’ The driver asked the guard.

‘Yeah very good,’ the guard replied slightly shocked at how many people were in the back. ‘Right me old mate, you gotta wait here to be checked, shouldn’t be too long, you want some water?’

‘I not understand,’ the driver replied with a puzzled expression.  Words were exchanged between the group and the driver’s faced to one of understanding.

‘Sorry his English is not good, we understand to wait here?’ Another man explains.

‘Yep, wait here and someone will come and get you.’

‘You say there is water?’

‘Yep, I’ll get you some, hang on.’

‘This is the fort yes?’ A woman asks.

‘Yep, nice and safe here, we got plenty of space and some food, we got doctors too,’ the guard replies before walking off.  His words are translated, smiles spread across faces as the relief washes through them.

The mother sits down on the side of the path, little realising the blood shed that took place there just a few days ago.  Her son, on finally being free from the van, runs about excitedly with the other children.

‘Ere Terri, got some for ya?’ The guard shouts as he walks to the big umbrella giving shade to the boxes of water bottles left there for the new people arriving.

‘Cheers,’ Terri shouts back and glances down the line.  People queuing quietly and drinking from the water bottles.  They all look a state, sunburnt, clothes filthy and faces gaunt. Hair greasy and plastered to their heads.  Some of them still in pyjamas and god only knows how they’ve survived so many days in nightclothes.

All morning and afternoon she’s been out here, processing the new arrivals, recording details of names, dates of birth, former addresses and any skills they possess.  She asks each one if they’ve had contact with the things, if they have been exposed to any blood, saliva or other bodily fluids.  Most of them answer no, having simply hid from the undead and only moving during the daytime.  Those that do admit to having contact are marked on the sheets, ready for Doctor Roberts and his team to examine them thoroughly.

She explains the same thing over and over, ‘when you go through you will be examined in medical tents, after that you will be taken to an area where you can have a wash and get some food and water.  After that you’ll be allocated a space, if you have any food with you, please hand it over so we can stockpile everything we have.’

Questions are thrown at her, desperate survivors asking about relatives and being told there are lists inside of all the refugees and people known to have not survived.

Hard work but each one is rewarding.  The look of relief the survivors show her, the outpouring of emotion at finally being in a safe place with proper people holding clipboards.

‘New lot are Polish,’ the guard remarks as he passes by carrying a box of water bottles.

‘Do they speak English?’

‘Some do,’ he shouts back.  She keeps on, moving from group to group, taking details and recording all the vital information.

‘Ready for the next ones,’ a teenage boy runs over to pass the message.

‘Okay,’ Terri smiles at the small group at the front of the queue, ‘follow Joe here and he’ll take you through,’ she passes the sheets with the groups details to the smiling boy before he leads them to the outer gates.

‘This heat,’ she takes a drink of water and wipes the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.  She wishes she didn’t have to wear her black police top but Sergeant Hopewell was adamant that new arrivals should see someone in uniform so they understand straight away that this is an organised place with rules.

Terri moves to the next group, repeating the process and answering the questions they have with patience and empathy.  Steadily she works her way down the line, handing sheets to Joe as he comes out for the next admissions.

She reaches the long white van at the rear and takes a long swig of water before heading to the back and the crowd of people sat about.

‘Hi, I’m Terri, one of the officers here at the fort,’ Terri introduces herself, speaking slow and clear so they can understand her.  She explains the process that’s already been repeated so many times.  Her trained eyes easily see the ones that understand her and the ones that struggle to keep up and she waits patiently for the translations to be given.

She rests one knee on the hard earth, using it to steady the clipboard while working her way through the group, recording the names which takes longer because of the language barrier.

Reaching the mother she takes her name and those of her children and runs through the question and answer session, listening intently as the woman explains how she came to be with the Polish people.

‘And before that, where were you?’ Terri asks.

‘We were on foot for a few days, just going from house to house for food,’ the mother explains, ‘that was after the car ran out of petrol, before that we were driving about but we didn’t know where to go or anything.’

‘Oh dear, that sounds awful,’ Terri says softly.

‘You’ve no idea,’ the mother replies with fresh tears spilling from her eyes, ‘I was so scared the baby would cry at night, or they’d hear us.  I had a knife but I was going to use it on us if they found us,’ she sobs.

‘I understand,’ Terri squeezes the woman’s arm, not in the least bit shocked at the admission made by the woman after hearing so many awful tales of survival.  ‘It’s safe here; we’ve got guards with weapons, soldiers, doctors, food…’

‘I…I just didn’t think we’d get through it,’ the woman breaks down, two of the Polish women come over and rub her back, one taking the baby while the woman releases her frustration and fears.

‘Hey it’s okay,’ Terri says.

‘It was so bad, so bad,’ the woman sobs, ‘all that killing and I thought they were going to get inside the house…’

‘But you’re safe now,’ Terri maintains the soft tone.

‘All night they were going, banging and killing….I was so terrified…I held that bloody knife to my baby’s throat….the window smashed and I thought they were coming in, there was so many, so many of them…’

‘But they didn’t get in?’ Terri asks trying to draw the details out, hoping it will soothe the exhausted looking woman.

‘No,’ she sniffs and gives thanks to a tissue handed from one of the Polish women.

‘See, that’s a good thing,’ Terri says, ‘you made it safely.’

‘Poor dog,’ the woman sobs quietly.

‘Oh you left your dog at home?’ Terri asks with sympathy.

‘Not my dog, the dog from outside…’

‘What about the dog?’ Terri probes.

‘The dog that killed them all, we had to leave it…poor thing just sat there as we drove off, I felt bloody terrible…’

‘Hang on love, a dog killed what?’ Terri leant forward confused.

‘Those things, it killed them things outside the house.  They were trying to get in and the dog stayed out there all day and all night killing ‘em, I put water down for it,’ she adds quickly as if that will ease the guilt she feels, ‘but the noise, the noise as it killed ‘em.’

‘The dog killed the undead?’ Terri asked, avoiding using the zombie word.

‘Yeah, loads of them.  All bloody day and all bloody night too…’

‘What kind of dog was it?’

‘An Alsatian, a bloody big one too.  Huge it was.’

‘You said it was there all day and all night? When was this love?’ Terri asked feeling a prickle on the back of her neck.

‘I don’t know, er…maybe the second or third night…I don’t know it’s all a blur.’

‘It was when it just happened then?’

‘Yeah, we we’re still in the house.’

‘Love this is really important, did you see the dog attacking the things in the day?’

‘Loads of them, they kept coming and the dog kept killing ‘em.’

‘And it bit them? Made them bleed?’

‘Course it bloody did, it tore half their throats out…’

‘And then all night too?’

‘Oh the night,’ the woman burst into a fresh bout of tears, ‘so many, when I looked out the next day the ground was just covered in bodies.’

‘The dog didn’t turn?’ Terri finally asks the million dollar question.

‘No miss, it was fine when we left, is…is that normal? I don’t know?’ She asked with a shrug but Terri was already off, running to the outer gates and calling for Joe.

TWENTY-TWO

DAY ELEVEN

‘Supermarket,’ I say needlessly as we pull into the huge empty car park and drive towards the main entrance, ‘just like being back at work eh Dave?’

‘This isn’t a Tesco store Mr Howie.’

‘Well yeah apart from that.’

‘And it’s smaller than our store too.’

‘Right fine, then it’s nothing like being back at work,’ the heat is getting to me.  It’s getting to all of us.  Even the lads in the back have stopped their constant banter.

‘Looks looted,’ Clarence calls down.

‘No shit,’ I mutter under my breath.  All the windows along the front are smashed in and the main doors have been obliterated by a car driven into them at speed.  The car is still wedged in the entrance way.  A few corpses in the car park but nothing like we’ve seen elsewhere.

‘We’ll have a quick look, might be something left,’ I grab my bag and assault rifle and climb down onto the glaring concrete surface of the car park.  The heat seems to be coming back up off the ground as well as from the sky.

‘Nick, you cover the GPMG mate, Clarence you better come with us…Lads…Lads what’s going on?’ Reaching the back I hear a heated exchange of words between Cookey and Blowers, both of them red faced and looking angry.

‘Nothing,’ Blowers looks away.

‘Sorry Mr Howie,’ Cookey murmurs and shoulders his bag before picking up his assault rifle.  They both walk off, heading opposite directions.

‘What happened there?’ I ask Lani as she steps down from the back.

‘Nothing, just the heat,’ she answers quietly.

‘You sure?’ I don’t want any ill feeling between the lads.

‘Cookey made some funny comment and Blowers bit, Cookey bit back, that was all,’ Tom explains.

‘Fair enough,’ and it is fair enough.  I can’t expect them to be perfectly behaved happy chaps all the time.  ‘Dave, you take lead with Lani.’

The rest of us hold back a little as Dave and Lani move towards the main doors.  I signal to the van drivers to stay put, Pete’s in the first van and waves back, acknowledging my request.

We climb through the debris, kicking bits of metal framework out of the way.  Once inside we can see the place has been emptied and left in a complete mess.  We walk down the main central aisle peering down each secondary aisle.  The food has all gone; just the toiletries section has any stock left.

‘Dave, you check the back store room…Howie to Pete, you receiving me?’

‘Pete to Mr Howie, loud and clear.’

‘Food has all gone, just some bits left in the toiletries section, we might as well have it…there’s some nappies and baby stuff here.’

‘Yep, we’ll get some people in now.’

‘Not much blood,’ Tom remarks, ‘no bodies inside either.’

‘It’s not a twenty four hours store so it would have been closed when it happened,’ I wipe my sweating hand down my trouser leg as Dave walks back towards us with Blowers and Lani.

‘Clear,’ he shakes his head.

‘We’ll have this lot anyway, might come in useful.’  We grab trolleys and help the van crews load them up.  It’s done within a few minutes and we head back out, stopping to force a path for the trolleys through the debris at the front door.

Outside we spread out and keep watch while the crews load one of the vans up.

‘Done,’ Pete shouts.  Even the crews and guards are silent.  Everyone is silent.  I’ve never known heat this before.

‘Load up,’ I call out and head back to the Saxon.  ‘Where next?’ I ask once we’re all inside.

‘Er…we’ll go for the chemists in the town centre, then the medical place and finally the cash and carry on the exit road,’ Clarence says back in the front and examining the map book.

‘Which way?’ I ask bluntly.

‘Out the car park and right onto the main road.’  Without another word I pull away, easing the Saxon along and waiting for the vans to loop round and get behind us.

‘How’s the fuel? Clarence asks.

‘Halfway, keep an eye out for somewhere to fill up.’

‘Roger that,’ he says equally as bluntly and we drive on in silence.

TWENTY-THREE

DAY SIX

‘I gotta eat something,’ Paco tells the dog as they walk down the rain drenched street.  His stomach gurgling with a feeling of hollow emptiness.  Feeling slightly safer now but still checking behind him and to the sides every few seconds.  He looks to the houses either side of the residential street and thinks of the food that could be inside.  Mouth-watering at the thoughts of eating decent food he stops and looks about, checking for signs of the monsters.

One lesson he’d learnt for sure was to avoid houses that had the doors closed and locked, Lucy had gone into one such house and look what happened to her.  No, he’d stick with the ones that had the doors already open, hoping and praying the monsters would have found their way out in their search for flesh and brains.

‘You hungry girl?’ Paco asks.  The dog stared up at him, ears pricked, eyes watchful and intent.  ‘I’m hungry, I’m starving hungry…what say we get some food?’

The fear starts to build as soon as he enters the garden path leading to house.  The same fear that had gripped him since that first night.  He stops halfway along the path, straining his ears for any sounds of movement in the house.  Nothing.  He examines the windows.  The drapes are open but with net curtains so he couldn’t get a good view of inside.

Terror started to build quickly, his legs feeling rubbery and weak.  Stomach flipping over as he wrings his hands.  He watches with surprise as the dog trots straight past him walking into the house, heading straight down the hall to the back.  Paco moves forward, stopping at the threshold and examining the inside.  No blood or signs of death here, it even smelled fairly normal.

‘Dog? Hey dog?’ Paco calls out, breathing a sigh of relief as the dog walks out of a doorway staring at him.

‘Is it safe?’ He asks, half expecting the dog to reply.  He ventures in carefully, one step at a time.  The dog walks straight past him and through another door, then re-appears a few seconds later panting.

‘What about up there?’ Paco asks pointing to the stairs.  He takes a tentative step towards the stairs and reaches his arm out to grip the handrail.  The dog takes the lead again, moving ahead and bounding up the stairs, disappearing into the rooms.  Re-appearing as Paco gets to the top.

‘All clear?’ Paco asks quietly.  He moves carefully from room to room, grimacing as the dog sticks her head into the toilet bowl and laps at the water.

Back downstairs he again checks every room with the dog trailing closely after him.  In the kitchen he makes sure the back door can be opened and there was an escape route before going back to the hallway and closing the front door.

In the kitchen he opens the fridge, gagging at the stench and warm stale air.  Pulling tins from the cupboards he hardly glances at the foreign looking labels and gets them opened quickly.  Using a spoon to shovel the contents into his mouth.  Cold baked beans never tasted so good, the tomato sauce was so rich and juicy.  Groaning with pleasure he wolfs the lot before opening the next tin to find small fat hot dog sausages inside.

‘Want some?’ The dog sat staring at him expectantly, I’ve saved your life so feed me.  Fingers covered in brine he fished the meaty sausages out and gingerly held one out, she leans forward and takes it gently before swallowing it whole.

‘Hungry huh?’ He finds a bowl, filling it with the sausages and more beans from another tin.  He places the bowl on the floor and steps back.  The dog needs no further invitation and noisily shoves her nose in, shuffling the bowl along the floor as she gobbled the food down.  Paco finds tinned fruit, vegetables, spaghetti.  He re-fills the bowl with a tin of ravioli, thinking it will be better for the dog as it contains meat.

He finds eggs that were only a day or so out of date but with no power on he can’t cook them up.  Instead they’re cracked open, put in the bowl and whisked up before being put down for the dog.  Her appetite was as big as his as they munched and chomped their way through the edible contents of the kitchen.

Paco turns the cold faucet on and runs the water for a minute before filling a glass and another bowl for the dog.  Fed, watered and feeling just slightly not so terrified he leans back against the kitchen top and watches as she starts cleaning herself.  Front paws, sides then her privates.  The sound is disgusting, like a greedy slurping noise of a child eating a milkshake.

Having eaten and on a come down from the adrenalin of almost being killed he feels exhausted and drained.  Snatching a few hours sleep here and there over the last few days left him almost dizzy with tiredness.  Stay here or find somewhere else? He considers the options carefully.  They are in a locked house with two escape routes; one front and one rear.  The rain might have served to cover their tracks too.  He needed sleep that was for sure, and if not here then where?

After another circuit of the house, checking each door and window was secured he wearily climbs the stairs, stopping at the top and remembering how Lucy got trapped in a bedroom.  The stairs were the only viable route of escape.  Sofa, he would use the sofa in the lounge.  That was midway between the front and back door.

Stretching out on the soft cushions he felt the pull of fatigue hitting him almost instantly.  Turning on his side he looked over at the dog, sat on the floor and watching him with interest.  Not only was she huge but she looked intelligent too, her eyes watching his every move, tomato sauce still round her muzzle but at least it wasn’t blood, and better yet it wasn’t his blood.

She watched as the man’s eyes grew heavy and closed, his breathing changed and she knew he was sleeping.  The fear radiated off him and he smelled too strong too.  The things would be able to track him easily.  She eased herself down, taking a position so she could see him and the door.

His signals were confusing.  He gave her food and spoke to her in a soft voice which was what the pack leaders did, but he seems more like a little one in his actions and manner.

At least he didn’t throw things and force her away.  He wasn’t her pack but he was somebody, and somebody was better nobody.

TWENTY-FOUR

DAY ELEVEN

‘This doesn’t look good either,’ I say negotiating the debris littering the road.  In the town centre now and it looks like the infection spread fast here.  Friday night and the pubs would have been packed.  Just one bite is all it would have taken and it would have spread so quickly.  The shops are mostly smashed in with doors ripped off.  Vehicles left dumped in the middle of the road get nudged out the way by the Saxon.

‘There it is,’ Clarence leans forward pointing to the left at the green cross sign attached to the wall.  I drive the Saxon over, bringing it to a stop just past the shop front so the first van can park up outside.

We’re out and scanning the area quickly.  The lads moving out to stand in a rough circle and watch the many shops entrances and junctions.  Dave and I head over to the building, examining the wreckage of the door and the bodies slumped just outside.  I turn one over with my foot, bite marks to the neck.  Dave nods and takes point heading through the doorway.

‘Looks clear,’ he says quietly, ‘I’ll check the back.’ He heads off towards the counter and the shelving units behind it.  They look mostly cleared out, Eleven days in and this is a sign of things to come.  The best stuff already looted and taken.  Survivors rummaging about amongst the crap left on the floor.

‘Another body here, got a knife stuck in its chest,’ Dave shouts back, ‘not one of mine either before you say anything.’

I can’t help but laugh at the comment which is so unlike him.  Leaning over the counter I look down at the decaying mess of a middle aged men with a kitchen knife buried to the hilt in his chest.

‘He looks normal dead,’ I say to Dave, ‘a knife to the chest doesn’t normally stop them.’

‘He is normal dead,’ Dave replies leaning down and pulling one of the eyelids back.

‘Jesus, killed by another survivor…’

‘The back room is still locked.’

‘Is it?’ I walk round and head past the high shelves to a locked door.  Trying the technique Clarence taught us I press the top and bottom to find they yield.  One lock in the middle.  I stand back and aim a boot hard at the middle.  It gives a little with a splintering noise but holds closed.

‘Together,’ Dave says.  He stands next to me as I count to three.  Our combined weight forces the door open and we shoulder our way in.

‘Happy days,’ I mutter at the well-stocked store room.  Boxes of medicines and cases of general stock left unlooted.

‘Howie to Pete, we got a result in here.’

‘Roger that, on way now.’

‘CONTACT,’ Blowers yells from the front, ‘COMING FROM THE JUNCTION.’  We both run through the shop and out into the front.  Blowers and Cookey stood a short distance off aiming at a horde of undead emerging slowly from a junction a hundred metres or so away.

‘Can I have them?’ Nick shouts from his position on the machine gun.

‘Crack on mate,’ I shout back, the last bit of my sentence cut off by the retort of the GPMG thudding to life.  We watch as the horde are cut to pieces, blown apart by the large calibre bullets.

‘OTHER SIDE,’ Tom shouts aiming to a shop front at an undead staggering out.  He opens fire, using single shots.  The first couple miss, striking the front of the building and tearing a chunk of masonry away.  The zombies are killed within seconds.  More stagger out from the junction, but they’re slow and spread out.  Nick fires intermittently, letting a few come out together before he takes them down.

Pete leads the van crews into the chemist shop, grabbing every bit of stock from the store room and moving quickly to load up.

Shouting from further up the street sends us all spinning round and raising our assault rifles.  A man waving his arms running towards us.  He stops on seeing the rifles pointing at him, shouting but too far away to hear him clearly.

‘Dave, tell him to come down but slowly,’ I call behind me.

‘COME DOWN SLOWLY, KEEP YOUR HANDS UP,’ Dave bellows down the road.  The man starts forward again, walking quickly and keeping his arms held straight as arrows above his head.

‘Watch him, he might be one of them,’ Dave warns as I start walking towards the man.  He steps in beside me, assault rifle held at the ready.

‘Hello? Are you the army?’ The man calls out.  He looks dreadful, filthy and gaunt, clothes hanging from his once stocky frame.

‘No mate, not quite…who are you?’

‘My family are living up there,’ he waves back up the street, ‘we saw you lot and thought help was here.’

‘Stay there, we need to check you before you get any closer.  My mate Dave here is going to come and have a look at you, please just stay still.’

‘Okay, we’ve not been bitten, honestly…we’ve kept our kids inside.  It’s only me that’s been outside for food…if that means I’m infected then just take them,’ he pleads, tears falling down his cheeks.

‘It’s okay mate, just hang on a second,’ I say softly.  Dave approaches the man holding his pistol in one hand down to the side.

‘Open your eyes wide and look at me,’ Dave orders.  The man complies, widening his eyes and staring comically at Dave.

‘Have you been bitten or scratched by the undead?’ Dave interrogates him.

‘No…god no…not even touched one of them…’ the man says quickly.

‘He looks alright as far as I can tell Mr Howie,’ Dave steps away, turning to me with a shrug.

‘Thanks, mate, we’re from a fort on the coast a few miles down the road.  We’ve got a whole set up going, food, doctors, security.  You’re welcome to come back with us if you don’t mind riding in the back of a van…’

‘Oh god…’ the man sinks to his knees sobbing loudly, ‘we prayed every day, we kept praying…we didn’t think anyone would ever come.’

‘You’re safe now,’ I step closer to him speaking softly, ‘couple of my team will come with you to get your family then we’ll get you out of here, okay?’

‘Okay? More than okay…thank you…thank you so much…’

‘Just be quick please, Dave take Blowers with you.  BLOWERS, GO WITH DAVE TO BRING THIS CHAPS FAMILY OUT HERE.’

‘On it,’ Blowers shouts already jogging towards us.

‘Are there anymore survivors here?’ I ask the man.

‘Probably, we hear people moving about, voices and things…we keep away from the windows though.’

‘Wise move, any idea where they live? The survivors I mean?’

‘No, sorry…’

‘Okay, go with these two but be quick and just grab what you can carry especially medicines and any tinned food.’

The three of them jog away as I turn back and watch the crews moving between the chemist and the first van.  An idea hits me and I wonder back towards the Saxon.

‘Nick, when Dave and Blowers get back with that family, get the IPod going with some music.  Anything will do, just make it nice and loud.’

‘Okay Mr Howie…er…why?’

‘Why’s that boss?’ Clarence turns from staring down the road.

‘We’ll draw any undead out and kill ‘em, but also any survivors too. Just be careful who you shoot.  Cookey, you get on the GPMG while Nick sorts our music out.’

‘I can do that if you want Mr Howie,’ Cookey says.

‘Can you? Oh…sorry mate, I just figured Nick was our electrical man.’

‘He is, but he’s already rigged it up, just need to press play now.’

‘Fair one, yeah do that then mate.’

‘Any requests?’ Cookey grins as he heads towards the front of the vehicle.

‘Nothing too aggressive, we don’t want to scare the survivors into thinking we’re a bunch of wankers.’

‘But we are a bunch of wankers,’ Lani adds quick as a flash to a few laughs.

‘Yeah but they don’t know that,’ Tom shouts over.

‘Dave’s back,’ Nick shouts a few minutes later.  I watch as Dave leads the family of four towards us, the same man with a woman and two small children.  Dave brings up the rear, turning every few seconds to scan round.

‘Pete,’ I call out as he walks back towards the chemist, ‘we’ve got survivors here, can you put them into one of the vans mate?’

‘Yeah course, where are they? Oh…yeah I see ‘em, leave it with me,’ he nods and walks off towards the survivors, greeting them warmly and shaking hands.

‘He seems a good bloke,’ Clarence mutters from nearby.

‘He does,’ I agree.  He speaks to the family for a few minutes, waving at Blowers and Dave to say he’s got them.  The look of relief on their faces is clear even from this distance.  The children look terrified and stay quiet, staring up at the adults talking and nervously glancing round at the men with guns.

‘Pete, sorry to keep calling you, we’re going to put some loud music on to draw anymore survivors out but we’ll probably get the things coming too, just so you know if we open up and start firing.’

‘Yeah no probs Mr Howie, I’ll let that family know and keep ‘em safe in my van with me.’

‘Music is going on, might be more survivors out here…stay alert, crack on Cookey,’ I shout to my group all stood nearby.

The PA speakers crackle for a second with a low hiss.  A second later and we’re listening to Take That belting out a song, I couldn’t tell which one not being an avid Take That fan.  Smiles spread across faces, laughing and nodding at Lani who grins back and turns to watch the road.

The music blares out, a loud beat thumping down the road as they sing about someone re-lighting a fire.  Despite music and the grins we all have the tension increases, knowing we’ll get an influx of undead coming our way.

It doesn’t take long.  Zombies shuffle from many different places, exiting shops, walking into view from the end of the roads on both sides, coming from junctions and side streets.  Shots ring out as the assault rifles open fire, each one being carefully aimed and making sure they’re not firing on survivors.

‘WE’RE DONE,’ Pete yells at me, pointing to the chemist shop.  I nod to Cookey to turn the music off.  A deafening silence drops down as the music ends abruptly with just the occasional shot ringing out.

‘Oh well, we got a few…load up for the next exciting trip,’ I call out.  At least the music and contact has lifted the lethargy but the heat is still as evil as before with an utterly scorching sun.

‘Next?’ I ask Clarence as he turns the map the right way round and holds it out to avoid the drips of sweat falling from his head.

‘Further down this road, not far.’

We pull out and move slowly down the road, the GPMG firing every now and then as Nick spots undead shuffling into view.  Another green cross and we pile back out, repeating the same actions as before.  This one is completely looted and smashed up.  Even some of the shelving has been taken judging by the large gaps on the shop floor and outline on the faded carpet.

No store room this time; a smaller family run pharmacy with the stock held behind the counter.  Five minutes later and we’re back on the road, heading towards the cash and carry with Cookey standing behind the front seats choosing the next playlist.

‘Sorry Blowers, Lani doesn’t have it,’ he calls back.

‘Have what?’ Blowers asks.

‘The Village People.’

‘Get fucked.’

‘I think that should be our theme song, YMCA…now that would be funny,’ Cookey carries on. How he can keep the banter up in this stagnant humid air is beyond me.  Glancing across I see Clarence looking strained and tired, his face bright red and sweating heavily.  Tom hands warm sugary drinks round which we down quickly with more water.

‘We could put signs up,’ Clarence breaks the silence.

‘For the fort?’ I ask, thinking the same thing.

‘But then Darren retained intelligence so it would just advertise our location,’ he continues.

‘That’s what I thought.’

‘After today we need a rest and some decent food,’ he changes subject quickly.

‘We’re not likely to get it though, it’s this heat mate…sapping everyone, it can’t stay like this can it?’

‘Fuck knows boss,’ he shrugs.  He seems drained and withdrawn which worries me, his strength and presence has seen us through some of the worst times.  Mind you, we’re all drained and withdrawn, apart from Cookey who is trying his best to keep our spirits up.

TWENTY-FIVE

DAY SEVEN

‘What the…’ Paco woke with a start, the fleeting images of his nightmare already ebbing away.  It was dark and for a few seconds he couldn’t place where he was.  A heavy breathing noise from nearby sent his pulse racing until he remembered it was the dog and he was in the house.

Striding across the room he gently pulls the curtain back to see the last tendrils of daylight fading.

‘It’ll happen soon,’ he muttered.  He checked up and down the darkened street for movement.  Nothing.  A clock above the fireplace counted the seconds of his life away, penetrating the silence.  He felt better, far better for having eaten food and sleeping solidly for several hours.

A low quick hissing sound knotted his forehead in confusion.  Then the smell of the dogs fart reached him, a dirty foul smell of rotten eggs that filled every inch of the room.

‘Damn beans.’ He waved the air in front of his nose trying to waft the stench away.  Another low hiss and a gurgling noise coming from her stomach, he looked down sternly.  She stared back with a big grin and long pink tongue hanging out and gave another low hiss, turning to stare at her own backside as if wondering where the noise was coming from.

‘Shit,’ he whispered gagging quietly and pulling a fistful of curtain over his mouth and nose.  His own stomach was gurgling with a pressing sensation deep inside his gut.  Leaning forward slightly he lifted one foot an inch from the ground, grimacing as he added to the smell with his own flatulence.  A look of relief on his face while the dog cocked her head to one side staring towards his backside.  He groaned as another one came out louder than the first, a long wet sound that spluttered and tailed off.  She hissed again.  He gave another one.  They farted in unison with a big grin spreading across his face and the dog seemingly panting harder from the lack of oxygen.

The howling began and it sent his stomach plummeting, cutting off the farting and laughter.  Instantly she was on her feet, staring intently towards the front of the house, ears pricked, head cocked and a low growl coming from her throat.

Paco backed away from the window, looking left and right.  The howling was all about but not close.  A distant wailing that drifted on the currents of warm air and brought utter terror into his soul.  Backing away he fumbled to the sofa, sitting at the end and drawing his knees up to his chest.  The howling ceased abruptly, filling the room with the sound of the second hand ticking round the clock face.

Eyes fixed on the window he failed to hear the dog padding over to him and pushing her wet nose against his hand, making him yelp in fright.  Patting the seat next to him he urged the dog up onto the sofa, stroking her broad back and moving closer to her simply for the comfort of the contact.  She allowed the fuss and stayed sitting up for a long time, enjoying being fussed for the first time in a week.  With a sigh she lowered her body down to lie next to him, ears still pricked and twitching at sounds Paco couldn’t hear.

They stayed there for hours, man and dog staying close together and both farting every few minutes.

Her growling brought him round, coming to quickly and this time knowing exactly where he was.  Her growling was different, deeper somehow.  He could sense the tension in her body as stirred and lifted her head from her paws.  A noise from outside.  A shuffling coming closer.  Fully awake now he rested one head on the dog’s head and felt the vibration of her growl coming through her skull.

Groaning from directly outside, something being dragged.  The front door reverberated with a loud bang causing the dog to leap from the sofa making noise.  Paco followed behind, trying to shush the dog but the damage was done.  The front door rattled with the impact of bodies slamming into it from the other side.  He heard them outside the window too, the unmistakable low growling noise as they staggered about.

She made more noise, telling them she was here and she wasn’t afraid of them.  She’d killed them before and she would again.  She felt the presence of the man behind her, the fear was pouring from him.  She could smell it and so could the things outside the den.

She made noise at the man, telling him to open the den and let her kill them.  They wouldn’t go now so she should attack them.  The man was just like the little one, consumed with fear and not doing anything.  He just stood there staring with his mouth open and his legs knocking together.

She threw herself at the door knowing they were on the other side.  Many of them and more coming, she wanted to destroy them, to end them.

The door held fast as the sworn enemies slammed and slammed again.  Paco, once more rooted to the spot with fear watched as the dog barked, snarled and threw herself against the door.  He moved to the kitchen, heading towards the kitchen.  Reaching the back door he jumped back as something heavy hit the door from the other side.  Groans and snarls coming through clearly.  He leant over the sink and pulled the curtain back; the monsters were at the back door, slamming their evil bodies into it.  They wanted his flesh and they’d found him.

Gibbering, whimpering, tears falling down his cheeks he moved away from the back door and stood in the hallway.  His head jerking to stare at the doors as the monsters banged and thudded into them.  His body convulsing and jumping in a never ending series of spasms.

A different sound penetrated the fear and reached his ears, a splintering noise.  His eyes slowly looked to the back door that was slowly being battered inwards.  The lock splintering in the frame with a loud crunching from the repeated strikes.

He could have moved quickly and thrown his substantial weight and strength against the door.  He could have grabbed one of the many large kitchen knives from the drawer and stabbed out, making a brave stand.  He could have done many things but he didn’t.  He backed away from the opening door, imagining the clawed hands reaching round to rake at his flesh.  The dog was still barking at the front door, launching at the things beyond.

The air was thick with the stench of them.  They were charged up, angry and hungry.  She felt their thirst for flesh.  A noise from behind, she glanced round to see them coming in from the other entrance.  The man was screaming and running up the hill.  They were through, in the den.  She left the front door and bounded towards the big one at the front.  He was different.  The ones behind him were different too.  They weren’t staring past her this time.

They were looking at her.

TWENTY-SIX

DAY ELEVEN

‘This doesn’t look right Mr Howie,’ Dave voiced out thoughts from his position stood behind the front seats of the Saxon.  The cash and carry warehouse is further up this road, set on an industrial estate just outside the town centre.

There’s more bodies here, far more than we’d expect on the outskirts of the town centre.  Some attempt has been made to pile them up in big heaps of grotesque once human remains of twisted arms, legs and heads hanging down.

The ground is heavily blood stained with many more bodies littering the roads and pavement.  The ones that we pass close enough are undead with horrific head injuries from blunt trauma and sharp implements.

‘You two been here before?’ I joke at Clarence and Dave; neither of them sees the funny side but just stare out at the morbid sight.

‘Fuck me…’ Clarence growls at the sight of the densely packed horde all facing away from us.  Slowing down I can see they’re all on the approach road to the cash and carry warehouse.  The tops of high metal gates can be seen over their heads, blocking them from entering the warehouse car park.

I bring the Saxon to a stop and reach for the radio clipped to my bag beside the seat.

‘Howie to Pete and the vans, are you receiving me?’

‘Pete to Mr Howie, we can see them…large contact right?’

‘Yes mate, to the other vans further back; we’ve got a huge crowd of them ahead of us.  We’ll pull up here until we can clear the route.  Stay in your vehicles.’

‘Can I shoot them?’ Nick shouts.

‘Not yet mate, there might be people on the other side of the gates.  We need to draw them out first,’ I shout back.

‘How do you work this thing Cookey?’ Clarence asks holding the IPod in his hand, making it look like a postage stamp clutched between his huge fingers.

‘Can I do it,’ Cookey takes the device offered him by Clarence, his fingers quickly swiping across the screen. ‘Got to be time for our theme tune,’ he smiles, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

The music blasts out from the speaker system, the opening beats of We Run This booming into the otherwise fairly peaceful area.  Well, peaceful other than the hundreds of undead gathered here, and the mounds of bodies, and the other bodies lying about that is.

‘Oh yes!’ Nick laughs from over our heads, ‘this is fucking brilliant!’  The undead react as one as soon as the music blares out.  Turning round to see the Saxon sat there holding several nice juicy bodies for them to munch on.

‘COME ON YOU HUNGRY FUCKERS,’ Nick bellows.

‘Pull over onto that bit of ground, we can fire across them and avoid hitting the gates,’ Dave points off to the side.  I nod back and engage the engine to mount the high kerb and bounce onto the patch of sun scorched dirt.

‘Are we getting out to fire?’ Blowers asks from the back.

‘Yeah, why not,’ I shout back and reach down for my assault rifle.  We clamber out, gulping the charged heated air, like walking into a furnace.  Gathered on the passenger side of the Saxon sticking close to the vehicle we wait for them to slowly shuffle our way, turning across the pavement to head towards us.

‘Head shots?’ I ask.

‘You’re on’ Clarence replies, ‘and no cheating Cookey.’

‘As if I would,’ he replies indignantly.

‘Am I excluded again?’ Dave asks flatly to a chorus of “yes” from the rest of us, even Nick shouts the answer down.  ‘Nick, I’m taking that gun,’ he adds in a something I can only describe as a sulky tone.

‘Ah what? That’s not fair…you’ll kill ‘em all,’ Nick whines but does as he’s told, dropping down the hole and swapping over with Dave.  Nick takes his assault rifle and joins us on the side.

‘Head shots is it?’ Dave asks once through the hole and clutching the heavy machine gun.

‘Oh he’s done that before,’ Cookey says in alarm at all the undead being killed and leaving nothing for the rest of us.

‘What with that thing?’ Lani asks with a puzzled face.

‘Yep, on the way back from London, or going into London…something to do with London anyway,’ Cookey answers wiping the sweat from his face with the back of his hand.

‘And we were moving at the time,’ Blowers adds.

‘He got head shots with a big machine gun on top of a moving vehicle?’ Tom asks in awe.

‘Yeah, Dave do the headshots thing,’ Cookey urges him.  Dave doesn’t need much temptation at the best of times.  He settles himself in, face blank and devoid of expression.  Aiming down the sights he takes a practise run, sweeping the gun across the crowd.  Nodding once he lets rip, the air splitting apart from the solid recoil of the weapon.  We watch as he sweeps the gun across the crowd.

‘Oh….my….god,’ Lani’s mouth drops open, as does the rest of ours at the sight of undead heads popping open like exploding melons.  Pink mist after pink mist, puffing into the air.  One second the undead has a head, the next it doesn’t as the heavy calibre round bursts the skull apart, blowing the brain into smithereens.  Not every one is a head shot, the horde is made up off many different sizes and heights, but the effect is awesome and it looks like they’re all headshots.

The competition is forgotten as Dave rakes the gun back and forth across them, it’s as mesmerising to watch the heads pop as it to watch the look of utter concentration on Dave’s face as he aims down the sights.  A grand master displaying his incredible talent, which just happens to be killing other people.  The thought skewers my perspective and for a second I’m not watching undead zombies being killed but people, men women and children.  The sight suddenly sickens me and I have to turn away and squeeze my eyes closed.  Thoughts race through my mind and I will myself to think of my mother and father, of Jamie, Tucker, Curtis and McKinney.  Thinking of them and the blackness starts.  Then Darren and Marcy fill my head, the image of Steven under me, screaming as I blow his brains out on the stairs of the church tower.

Fuck ‘em.  They’re undead.  They’re all undead.  I lift the assault rifle and fire into the ranks.  The others join me a split second later, our small arms fire adding to the cacophony of noise.  We change magazines and keep firing, picking them off but the GPMG does most of the work.  Within a couple of minutes were looking at a vista of broken bodies.  Dave picking the odd one off here and there from his advantage of being higher up.

‘That was incredible,’ Tom says quietly at the same time as Dave shouting “clear”.  We climb back into the vehicle and start driving back onto the road, the massive wheels crushing the bodies as we bounce over the corpses.

Gaining the access road to the cash and carry warehouse we look down at the metal gates, locked and secure with a man stood the other side holding a long barrelled weapon.

‘Someone’s already here,’ Clarence says.  The others clamber forward to view out the front at the gates and the person behind.

‘Someone take over from Dave,’ I call out and listen to the shuffling going on as Dave drops down and gets to the front.

‘Game plan?’ Clarence asks.

‘Let’s see who’s here first,’ I reply.

‘Just remember boss, we got a lot of mouths to feed and the pickings will just get harder.’

‘Okay mate, you and Dave with me, Blowers you’re in charge.’

‘Got it,’ he says from somewhere behind me.  Leaving the Saxon a respectable distance back the three of us drop down, leaving our rifles in the vehicle and walking towards the gates with our open hands held away from our bodies.

We walk slowly, trying to show the man we’re not a threat to him, which will be hard seeing as we’ve just slaughtered all his zombies with our big machine gun stuck on the top of our army vehicle.

He stands fast, holding the shotgun across the centre mass of his body, resting in the crooks of his arms like soldiers hold their rifles.  Feet planted shoulder width below a stocky frame.  As we get closer I can see his face is weathered and hard looking with very short greying hair.

‘Hi,’ I call out from a few metres back, staring at him through the links of the metal gates.  He nods back but stays silent and I can imagine his gaze flicking between the odd looking characters that have just strolled up to his gate.

‘Er, we killed your zombies for you,’ the joke falls flat and he stares with a barely perceptible nod.

‘We’ve got a commune on the coast…we’re out for supplies and well…we were going to try this place, cash and carry warehouse isn’t it?’

‘It is,’ he replies with a deep voice.

‘But obviously you’re in there, have you got a large group?’

‘Enough,’ he answers.

‘Is that your handy work on the road? All the bodies piled up?’

‘It was, we we’re gonna burn up…more showed up.’

‘Yeah, they kind of keep doing that don’t they, can I approach the gate? We’re not here to threaten you or anything like that.’

‘Can’t really stop you now can I, what with my shotgun and your Saxon behind you.’

‘We’re not going to use it to force our way in, that’s not what we’re here for but we’ve got several thousand people in our fort…’

‘Fort?’ He interrupts me as I walk closer to the gates.

‘Fort Spitbank, you know it?’

‘I know it.’

‘We’ve taken it over, got thousands of people there, doctors, medical facilities, security and police officers…we’ve got food but obviously we’ll need more.’

‘S’good fort that is, good move getting it,’ he nods.

‘There was a radio broadcast…the first or second day, it said to head for the forts but I guess not that many people heard it.’

‘No,’ he shakes his head, again just a small movement.  Closer now and I can see his face looks tired and drawn with large bags under his eyes.

‘We’ve got more people turning up every day; it’s a good location, defendable and secure.  How many did you say you had in here?’

‘I didn’t.’

‘No you didn’t did you? Well I’m glad this conversation is going so well. Really it’s not enough that we’re fucking about in this heat but we just removed the gigantic horde of undead from your gates and now I’m in a conversation with a monosyllabic man holding a shotgun,’ I wipe my forehead with my shirt sleeve which comes away sodden.

‘What would you do if a bloody great big armoured truck pulled up and a load of soldiers started shooting their assault rifles about?’ He asks with a lift of his chin.

‘Fair one,’ I sigh and feel suddenly very weary.

‘What’s your name?’ He asks quickly.

‘Howie, this is Dave and Clarence.’

‘Mr Howie and Dave is it?’ he asks with a slow grin spreading on his face.

‘Eh? What? Well….everyone keeps calling me Mr Howie but yeah that’s me and he’s Dave…how the…what…?’

‘You’re the ones that killed that nasty fella in Portsmouth, the one holding everyone hostage and making ‘em his slaves…’

‘Well it wasn’t quite like that but…’

‘And you saved all the people in the petrol station on the London road, blew up a petrol station too I heard.’

‘Bloody hell, yeah that was us…but we didn’t just blow it up, well no we did blow it up but you know…we kind of had a reason for blowing it up.’

‘You fella’s responsible for that big explosion a few days back too? That must have been down near the coast, bloody great mushroom cloud went up it did.’

‘Er, yep…that was us, well Dave actually and it was a housing estate…’

‘A housing estate? Why d’you blow up a housing estate?’

‘To kill the zombies that were in it.’

‘Oh…’

‘Long story, how the hell do you know all that though?’

‘News travels,’ he shrugs, ‘we’ve had people coming and going from here since it started, everyone keeps going on about this Mr Howie and Dave.’

‘This is all we bloody need; this is your fault Dave.’

‘Why me?’ Dave looks at me with a slightly startled expression.

‘For calling me Mr bloody Howie all the time in front of people.’

‘Sorry Mr Howie,’ he actually looks a little sheepish.

‘You wanna come in then? It’s too bloody hot out here,’ the man says.

‘Yeah, if that’s alright with you…er we got a load of vans down the road too.’

‘Got a big car park Mr Howie, get ‘em in here for a bit,’ he takes a key from his trouser pocket and unlocks the padlock, pulling the chain back and tugging the gate open.

‘Howie to Blowers, drive through mate and park up…Howie to Pete, come down through the gates and park up too mate.’

‘Blowers to Mr Howie, roger that.’

‘Pete to Mr Howie, on our way.’

Mr bloody Howie.  Bloody Dave that is, why can’t he be Mr Dave and I be just Howie? And Clarence, he’s a bloody giant, he should be Mr Clarence.

Clarence, standing quietly with a wry grin on his face up till now helps the man with the second gate, lifting it from the floor and pushing it over to one side and getting a shocked glance from the shotgun man at the same time.

‘Sorry, you didn’t say your name,’ I hold my hand out which he shakes.

‘Geoff.’

‘Nice to meet you Geoff.’

‘Clarence,’ the big man steps up, holding his hand out for the obligatory shake.

‘You’re Dave then?’ Geoff asks holding his hand out to Dave who gives a slight grimace and shakes it quickly before wiping his hand down the back of his trousers.  Serves him right, I’m going to get everyone to shake his hand from now on.

The car park is wide and baking hot, we walk slowly waiting for the Saxon to inch through with a grinning Tom behind the wheel and getting a thumbs up from Cookey sat in the passenger seat.  The vans come through as the lads pile out from the Saxon, slurping water and holding their assault rifles.  Lani jumps down nimbly and catches me admiring her again, giving me a big smile.

‘This isn’t a trap is it Geoff?’ I joke, which again falls flat as he stares back at me without expression.

‘No,’ he replies.

‘Yeah…I was er…just joking.’

The vans pull through the gates and park up behind the Saxon, the drivers, guards and crews piling out into the sunshine, lighting cigarettes.  Pete goes round the back of his van, opening the rear doors and speaking to the family inside.  They too jump down and stand about looking scared and uneasy.  Pete hands them water bottles and chats amiable.

‘Do you know them?’ I ask Geoff nodding towards the family, ‘we met ‘em in the town centre, they were holed up in a flat.  We’re taking them back with us.’

‘No, I don’t recognise them, you got room for more people then?’

‘Yeah, we er…’ I was about to explain about how we lost so many in the fight but my voice trails off, ‘yeah, we got plenty of space.’

‘Geoff? Why the hell did you open the gates?’ Another man comes charging from the door of the warehouse.

‘Norman,’ Geoff nods at the approaching man, ‘this is Mr Howie and Dave, and that big chap is Clarence.’

‘What?’ Norman’s face instantly glances to me, then Dave and back to Geoff.’

‘Nice to meet you, I’m Howie, this is Dave and Clarence,’ I take a couple of steps towards him holding my hand.

‘Christ mother and Mary! The Mr Howie and Dave?’ He asks still glancing between us.

‘Er…well yes…’ I reply, not sure on how to answer that.

‘What? Well….he stutters and shakes my hand, ‘Mr Howie right?...Er…I’m Norman.’

‘Nice to meet you, that’s Dave and Clarence.’ Again we repeat the procedure of Clarence stepping in and offering a handshake which leaves Dave kind of forced to offer his.  Which makes me grin, which he sees and passes me a quick dark look which just makes me snort with a suppressed chuckle.

‘Oh god,’ Norman pales as he looks beyond us at the lads stood their dressed like mercenaries and holding assault rifles.  I’m guessing Lani must have said something to the other four as they’re smiling nicely and not twatting about like normal.

‘It’s okay Norman,’ Geoff says quickly, ‘they’ve got that Fort Spitbank, taken it over they have, got doctors and hospitals and police stations and everything they have…thousands living there like a proper town.’

‘Eh? No wait…we got doctors and police officers, and yeah a few thousand people there but not quite like that,’ I add quickly. That’ll be the next thing.  Mr Howie and Dave have a super city where everyone gets a free TV when they arrive.

‘Have you?’ Norman asks quickly, ‘I’ve heard of it, have you got space then?’

‘Well yeah we have, how many you got here?’

‘Erm…well we had a couple leave last night, and then that Thompson chap turned up didn’t he Geoff…’

‘He did Norman, and don’t forget that family yesterday that went.’

‘Christ mother and Mary! Of course, you know I’d forgotten all about them…so they left yesterday and that couple and then Mr Thompson turned up…’ he counts silently holding his fingers out.

‘Roughly…just roughly…we don’t need to know exactly,’ I prompt him.

‘Er…Fifty six,’ he answers with a smile, ‘no, fifty seven with Mr Thompson.’

‘Oh quite a few then,’ I reply.

‘Is there any food left?’ Clarence asks with a concerned tone.

‘Oh lots, we’ve been rationing very carefully you see, which has caused some arguments let me tell you that much for free but we said we’d have to be careful as we didn’t know how long it would be till help arrived.’

‘Help? What help?’ I ask him.

‘Well you know got to give the government time to get something worked out haven’t we?’

‘Government? Norman there is no government, there’s nothing.  The whole country’s gone, Europe, the whole world…’

‘Yeah that’s what people keep telling me, but this is Great Britain…this is the United Kingdom! They’ll have a plan somewhere, just got to let the boffins work it out, and anyway…you’re here now, Mr Howie and Dave eh?’

‘We need to cut to the chase,’ Clarence steps forward looking very hot, ‘we need food, you’ve got food.  You need somewhere safe and we have somewhere safe, so how about it?’

‘How about what?’ Norman pales slightly looking up at Clarence.

‘Er,’ I step in before Clarence pulls his head off, ‘as Clarence said we’ve got a safe place with doctors and medicines, it’s early days but we’re getting a good set up going…but we need food.  You’ve got a whole warehouse of food here.  So maybe you come to our fort and bring your food with you?’

‘Christ mother and Mary! That’s an idea…but well I’ll have to put it to the committee…’

‘The committee?’ Clarence growls.

‘Of course the committee, this country is a democracy not some tinpot autocratic dictatorship…oh no….we’ve got committee’s on rationing, guards…er…toilet cleaning duties…’

‘Entertainment,’ Geoff adds helpfully.

‘Oh yes the entertainment committee, they do marvellous things with keeping the little ones entertained you know.’

‘Okay! Er…well you could go and ask them or…’

‘I’ll get everyone together and maybe you can say a few words, you know…Mr Howie and Dave coming to the rescue, I think they’ll buy it,’ Norman smiles.

‘Buy it? I’m not asking anyone to buy anything.  We’re offering people a secure place to live so the zombies don’t eat them…and you’ve got a warehouse full of food too.’

‘Yes well…you know how tricky committees can be, I’ll go and get them ready, I’ll bring them out for you,’ he walks off chatting excitedly with Geoff.  Leaving the armed strangers alone in their car park.

‘How the fuck have they survived this long?’ Clarence asks.

‘They got committees,’ I reply, ‘bored the zombies to death probably.’

‘We need this food boss,’ Clarence urges.

‘I know mate, we’ll talk to them and convince them to come with us.’

‘Make it sound bad, really bad,’ he prompts me.

‘What ‘cos it isn’t already then? The whole end of the world, everyone’s a zombie thing not bad enough?’

‘You know what I mean,’ he replies with a slight grin which is nice to see instead of his angry flushed face.

‘Lads,’ Dave turns and barks at the rest gathered by the Saxon, ‘when that strange man comes back he’s bringing everyone out with him.  I want you lot over there chatting and being nice, tell them how good our fort is, don’t let them touch the guns but smile and show them how professional you are,’ he orders, leaving me and Clarence staring at each other in amazement.  The lads buck up instantly getting what we’re trying to accomplish, walking past quickly towards the front of the building and trying to look casual.

‘And Nick…’ Dave shouts.

‘Yes Dave?’ Nick turns with a grin.

‘No swearing.’

‘Yes Dave,’ he nods still grinning.

‘Bloody hell Dave that was good thinking,’ I say.

‘But aren’t they all going come out and see a bunch of armed people now?’ Clarence asks.

‘No the lads will do good, they’re good at this,’ I reply confidently.

‘Can I play in the headshots game now?’ Dave asks suddenly.  We both reply no.

Within a couple of minutes the warehouse people are coming out, tentatively poking heads out then taking a few steps into the bright glare of the daylight.  The lads smile and nod, waving at the people and strolling towards them.

‘See,’ I say.  More people come out and we watch as our lads separate and move amongst them chatting to groups and smiling the whole time.  Lani looks amazing with her beautiful smile and stood there holding a bloody great big machine gun.  It takes time for everyone to exit the building, a few of them look very worried and scared at the sight of the army truck, the vans and the men stood round but we give it time and let the lads get some good words in.

‘Win their hearts and minds…’ Clarence says quietly.

‘Definitely,’ I reply, ‘come on, let’s get in there too.  Dave needs to practise his handshakes.’ I grin at the small man taking a couple of steps towards the crowd.

‘Hang on,’ Clarence says, ‘they keep looking over at us, at you and Dave…you’ll have more effect if you stay back and talk to them as one.’

‘You reckon?’ I ask, but he’s right.  Looking at the crowd and many of them are staring over, glancing at Dave and me, chatting and whispering to themselves.

They look all look tired and scared but I do notice at least their well-fed and clean, something most survivors can’t achieve.  The crowd fractures into smaller groups, these then grow larger as more people join them, the groups congregate and a natural order ensues ending up with one large crowd with several key people in the middle talking loudly.

Norman appears from the building, carrying a plastic beer crate which he upends and stands on, clapping his hands to draw the attention of the crowd.

‘Now settle down, settle down please…come on everyone just quiet down for a minute, thank you.  Now, as you can see we’ve been visited by Mr Howie and Dave and the rest of their group.’ Heads all turn to stare again, I raise one hand and nod back whispering for Dave to do the same, which he does woodenly.

‘They’ve got a community down on the coast in the old Spitbank Fort, thousands of them and by all accounts its growing every day, they’ve got law and order with fully uniformed police officers, doctors, hospitals, people in charge and they’ve got security,’ I wince as he relays the description, shaking my head slightly. ‘They’re here looking for food and supplies to take back with them…but they’ve invited us to go along with them and live in their fort, the question is do we stay here and hope for the best or take the invitation and go with them.  I’ve spoken to Mr Howie and he’s happy to field any questions you may have and say a few words…Mr Howie?’ He looks over at me and I nod back, starting towards the beer crate.

‘We need that food,’ Clarence whispers as I pass in front of him.

‘Hi, my name is Howie, that is Dave and the big chap is Clarence.  The armed people amongst you are part of our group from Fort Spitbank, we’ve been together for quite a few days now,’ standing on the beer crate and looking out I can see just how tired and exhausted they look.  Scared people gathering together and not knowing what to do, so they cling to the lessons life has taught them.  Form committees, form think-tank groups, discuss the options and wait for help.  If they didn’t have this pile of food it would be a far different story.

‘The fort is on the coast, on a spit of land surrounded by flatlands and the sea so we’ve got a good defensible position.  We’ve had one major fight with those things when they tried to take the fort but we fought them back.  We lost a lot of good people but we’ve shown we can defend our home and in doing so we inflicted massive losses on them.  I won’t lie or tell you anything that isn’t plain fact…they might come back, the chances are that they will come back.  But that goes for everyone, not just us in our fort.  They need to eat and find more people.  We’re already getting scarcer now so they’ll up their game to do what it takes.  We’ve killed the ones outside your gates but they will come back.  Yes, you have big metal gates but from I can see here you’ve only got a few small arms with you,’ I point to the few men in the crowd holding shotguns, ‘also, you’ve got a big stockpile of food in here and this building is just a warehouse, it’s not built to withstand a concerted attack.  There will be other groups out there who want that food and will also do anything to get it.  We’ve got plenty of space for you and you can join our fort, be a part of our community.  We need people with skills, nurses, engineers, mechanics, plumbers, carpenters, we need fit and healthy people who are willing to work and muck in, anyone with medical training or who can sew, stitch and repair clothing.  We need teachers for our children.  Our food is split evenly amongst everyone too.  Sounds idyllic doesn’t it? A veritable utopia yeah?’ I can from their faces that I’ve pretty much convinced most of them already, which just shows how desperate they are.

‘Well it isn’t,’ I add firmly, ‘but neither is this,’ I wave my arm at the warehouse and car park, ‘We’ve got a lot of work to do to get our fort up and running so it can house so many people, there is a hell of a lot of work to do and everyone has to play their part but there is safety in numbers and like Norman said, we have organisation and order.  We don’t have hospitals yet but we will have, we’ve been out today getting supplies from hospitals and pharmacies and as time goes on things will get more desperate.  You are welcome to join us, we’ll lead you back to the fort and you’ll be admitted…’

‘What’s the cost?’ Someone shouts.

‘Cost?’ I ask staring in the general direction of the shout.

‘Oh shut up Frank,’ someone else shouts in an irritated tone.

‘No it’s a fair question, we came here for the food and supplies, we won’t take it from you by force, that won’t happen.  But we do need more food and supplies…’

‘So you want our food then?’ Frank shouts.

‘Yes of course we do,’ I answer bluntly, ‘and we won’t be the only ones that figure out where the depots are now the shops are all gone.’

‘So we come with you but only if you have our food, is that right?’ Frank asks.

‘Unless you want to leave it here with a big sign up saying help yourself, yeah I think that’s about right.  We take the food with us, not us not you but we…because it will be all of us eating it…’

‘Bloody hell Frank that was a stupid thing to say,’ the other voice calls out.

‘Is it true about you saving them people in Portsmouth from being slaves?’ A plump woman at the front asks.

‘Well…we…er…yeah we kind of met the people in the barricade and there was an issue of sorts.’

‘And the people on the motorway?

‘Yeah them too, we met them on the way to London.’

‘London?’ She asks, ‘you been to London?’

‘Yes, had to get my sister,’ I explain quickly.

‘Was it bad?’

‘Very bad, completely overrun.  Everywhere is overrun.’

‘Have you heard from the government?’ More people shout questions.

‘No mate, there is no government, well no sign of them anyway.’

‘Are you from the army?’

‘Some of us are yes,’ I don’t give the full explanation.

‘How do we know you won’t do somefin’ nasty to us then? Like make us slaves or sommit?’

‘Why would we make you slaves? What for? And how would we organise a slave trade in the Eleven days since this thing began? We’re the same as you, just doing what we can to survive but we’ve been lucky in that we got a good base with good people inside it…’

‘Norman?’ The plum lady calls out, ‘do we all have to go or what? Like can some of us go and some stay?’

‘Er…well we’ve always said no one is a prisoner here, you can come and go as you wish.’

‘I want to go then,’ she replies quickly, more people nod in agreement, some argue against the idea and voices start rising.

‘Now come on, everyone just come on please,’ Norman shouts taking his place on the beer crate I’ve vacated, ‘I think we should have a vote and we go with the majority, yes? Everyone in agreement with that? We’ll put it to the vote and all agree we’ll abide by the decision…’

‘But you just said people can do what they want?’ Frank shouts.

‘Well yes I know and they can, but we are a group and we should stick together.’

‘Shut up Frank.’

‘So I can stay here if I want to then?’ Frank presses the point.

‘Yes of course you can,’ Norman appeases him.

‘With the food?’ He adds quickly.

‘Well now that depends on how many want to leave, we can’t leave all the food can we, so…well I don’t really know about that…’

‘So there ain't no bloody choice is there, if the majority say to go then the food goes too,’ Frank shouts above the rising clamour of voices.

‘Right come on, let’s have the vote,’ Norman carries on, ignoring Frank.  ‘All those in favour of going to the new fort with Mr Howie and Dave, raise your hands…’ The air above the crowd is suddenly filled with hands waving and stretching high.  No doubt about it, only a few don’t raise their hands.  I look back to Clarence to who smiles and nods.

‘Vote passed,’ Norman grins, ‘right…well er…how do we do this?’ He looks to me suddenly unsure.

‘May I?’ I motion towards the crate.

‘Please do,’ he says gladly and steps off.

‘Go Howie,’ Lani mutters as I walk past her, I glance at her grinning, not realising she was so close.

‘Okay, have you got any vehicles?’ I call out to the sea of excited faces.

‘We put them all in round the back and the other side out of view from the gates,’ Norman replies.

‘We need to move quickly and get loaded up, do you have anything big like vans or…’

‘Use the arctic,’ a man shouts from the middle.

‘You have a lorry?’ I reply to nods and people shouting the types of vehicles they have, vans, cars and other things I don’t hear.

‘Get them all round the front, open those shutters up and get them loaded as quickly as possible.  Form a chain and pass the goods out, my lot will help and we can use our vans too.’

Chaos descends as everyone tries to do everything at once.  Clarence wades in, using his size and voice to cajole people into order.  Pete and the van crews are soon amongst them as we try to organise over a hundred people into doing some fairly basic tasks.  As normal, we start off with too many managers trying to take control and shout the others down.

But we get there slowly.  The vehicles are driven round including one big lorry that certainly looks like it’s seen many better days but hopefully it will do the job.

I call my group to me, using the radio instead of trying to shout and find them all, we meet by the Saxon, moving out of earshot from the melee going on outside the warehouse.

‘Clarence, I want you to take the Saxon and go back down the road with Nick, Blowers, Cookey, Tom and Lani.  We passed a load of used car sale places, find anything that will drive and get them back here, the bigger the better, Dave and I will stay here on guard.  We’ve got fifty six people to get back to the fort…’

‘Fifty seven with Mr Thompson,’ Dave corrects me.

‘We’ve got a fifty seven people to shift plus the stuff in the warehouse.’

‘Boss, get Norman to send some people with us, we’ll be able to do it in one go then,’ Clarence adds.

‘Good idea mate.’ We break up as I work my way through the crowd, finding Norman and Geoff stood to one side talking.  I relay my idea which he accepts and sends Geoff off to select some drivers.  A few minutes later and they’re off, the Saxon driving out of the main gate and heading down the road. I can hear the crunching of bodies being crushed under the wheels from here.

Dave and I stand towards the back, watching the main gate and the work being carried out now in some semblance of order.

‘We got a few hours till dark,’ I remark.

‘We have Mr Howie.’

‘Need a long cold shower when we get back, I might just sit under the hose for an hour or two.’

‘Could go for a swim in the sea,’ he suggests.

‘That sounds like heaven mate, cool sea and a cold beer.’

‘Shouldn’t drink and swim.’

‘Or drive.’

‘I can’t drive.’

‘You should learn, I’ll teach you.’

‘I don’t have a licence.’

‘I don’t think that matters now Dave.’

‘Okay.’

‘Really? You’ll let me teach you to drive?’

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

‘We’ll need one of them instructor cars with the dual pedals and leaner plates, we should find one.’

‘Okay Mr Howie.’

‘Or should we just go straight for the Saxon?’

‘I don’t mind.’

‘Didn’t the army ever teach you to drive?’

‘No.’

‘Why not? They taught you just about everything else.’

‘I don’t know, I never asked them.’

‘Fair enough…’

TWENTY-SEVEN

DAY SIX

Two beasts, one of foul blood and the other pure, running at each other, lips pulled back, teeth bared.  They do what must be done.  There is no thought other than primal instinct.  The predator seeing its prey and charging with violence unknown to human kind.

The thing drop down, neck stretched showing the gristle and veins bulging under the pale decaying skin.  The dog starts to lift, using her powerful back legs to drive her up, her front legs extended ready for the impact.

Within a split second she has taken in the change, absorbed the difference and now knows the things are here for her.  She does not wilt or flee but charges with unrestrained aggression.

The thing doesn’t stand a chance.  Days of constant killing have honed her skill finely.  She locks her jaws either side of the things mouth and drops her weight, dragging it down at the same time as she gives a violent shake of her neck.  Flesh, teeth and jaw bone are shorn away.  The next one is lunging in, she whips round and drives forward.  Ploughing her body weight and driving it back.  Teeth savaging any piece of the things body she can get at.

Two down and more coming.  She uses the tricks she’s learnt and bounds on the downed bodies, launching herself at the exposed necks of the oncoming attackers.  In the open she is deadly, using her speed and agility to take them down.

In this confined space she is worse.  Utter brute force and power driving a mouth full of sharp teeth that can generate enough pressure to break human bone, and she does.  Ragging the things up and down the hallway, they drop down, lunging in ready for the bite.  She takes this change of behaviour and uses it to her advantage, staying low and whipping in amongst their legs and biting up at the faces as they come down.

She climbs over the bodies and backs away to foot of the stairs, snarling and making noise.  Daring them to come at her.  Lips pulled up and eyes fixed.  Deep growls emanating from her throat.  Hair standing on end.  They keep coming, launching themselves over the bodies, tripping, falling and dying.

The corpses mount up and she gives ground inch by inch, backing away to the stairs.  She starts to rise, using the height of the stairs to lunge at their necks and drive them back down.

The front door yields under the sustained battering, splintering open as more of the things surge through.  But the stairs are narrow and only two can fit abreast.  She dominates them.  Taunts them.  Beckons them on.

Driving forward again and again she rips through flesh like butter, tearing throats out, destroying jugulars and opening arteries.  Blood soaks the steps, making the slippery and causing the following things to slip and slide.  With four legs she bounds up and down destroying anything that comes at her.

Upstairs, in the back bedroom.  The strong muscular form of Paco Maguire, action hero of more than twenty blockbuster movies sits in the corner, knees drawn to chest and sobbing with unrestrained terror.  Hearing the snarls, the growls, the killing he wills the dog to survive.  Prays that she holds her ground and defeats the evil monsters.

Thoughts race through his mind.  Images of the pitchfork monster and Lucy defeating the dog and tearing her open, pouncing on the stairs and lunging at the bedroom door.  He prays to his mother, father, he prays to the name of every god and angel he’s ever heard.  He pleads for his life, making unremitting promises to live a wholesome life, to do good and help others.

But not once does he consider going to her aid.

TWENTY-EIGHT

DAY SEVEN

The sun rises on the seventh day of the new world.  While Howie prepares the fort for battle, the dog finally kills the last undead.

The fallen bodies became so dense the things had to fight and crawl their way through and over them.  But they just added to the pile.  A spark of intelligence remained as they started tugging and pulling the bodies away, opening gaps to find a mouthful of teeth waiting for them.

The suns golden rays slowed the things to a shuffle which she detected instantly.  The animal instinct not questioning the change but accepting it and adapting.  She finished them off, her movements slow and almost cumbersome now.  A few times she’d left the stairs to drink water from the toilet bowl and it was just enough to sustain her.

As the last one falls she feels an overwhelming sense of tiredness come over her.  Legs feeling wooden and shaky.  Her coat matted with blood and gore.

Slowly she walks back into the den, clambering over the bodies and stopping when she’s sees Paco stood at the top of the stairs.  His mouth hanging open at the sight of the corpses and blood spatters high on the walls.  His eyes take the view in, moving slowly over the scene until they finally rest on her.

‘Damn,’ he whispers but seeing the daylight and dog still alive gives him a sense of enormous relief.   Taking great care he makes his way down the stairs, pausing to make sure the dog has finished her killing spree and isn’t about to launch at him.  She looks normal, apart from the blood and filth on her fur.  Her head is hanging lower than before and she keeps yawning, showing the back of her mouth and her blood stained tongue.

With no other choice Paco is forced to step on the bodies, using them as stepping stones to gain a view of the street outside, shocked at seeing yet more cadavers strewn about.

‘God damn,’ he turns back to her.  She stands with her tail wagging slowly.

‘Good girl!’ He says louder now, her tail beats faster as he makes his way down the hallway into the kitchen.  Checking the back garden for monsters before he finds a bowl and fills it with cold water.

She’s there instantly, drinking noisily and gulping it down.  The bowl is licked dry and filled again.  Pink water dripping from her muzzle, tainting the bowl.  She doesn’t stop but keeps lapping with her tongue, in and out, in and out.  Rapid movements that drains the water surprisingly fast.

His brow knots and a grimace spreads across his face at the sight of her matted coat.  Heading outside he finds a hose and calls the dog to him.  She comes readily enough and even stands still while he jets the water on her body, using a dustpan brush to work at the bits stuck in her hair.

Finished he stands back just in time for her to shake her coat and soak everything within a six foot radius.

‘You look beat,’ he says softly, ‘but we can’t stay here, we gotta move.’  He heads back into the kitchen and drinks more water before stomping over the bodies and leaving the house.

In the street he looks up and down, checking for signs of movement.  The dog stands by his side, head still hanging low and still panting heavily.

‘Come on,’ he taps his leg and moves off.  She follows a few feet behind, her ears still pricked and eyes watchful but just happy to follow the man where he leads.

Paco leads the dog through street after street.  Knowing she needs a rest but wanting to create distance from their last house.  Finally, just as she looks ready to drop he selects a house with a door slightly ajar and tentatively makes his way up the path.  Shoeing the door open he stands still, listening for any noise and watching the dog.  She senses his fear once more and walks past him, making her way slowly through the house and up the stairs.  Only when she re-appears does he close and lock the door and start his checks, making sure there’s an escape route through the back garden.

He stops in the hallway, staring up at the dog asleep on the top landing.  Her paws hanging over the top step by a few inches.  Her eyes closed but ears still pricked.

From having spent the night cowering in the bedroom, he too feels drained and exhausted.  Finding the sofa in the lounge he stretches out and listens as the dog gently patters down the stairs and walks into the room, lying down on her side facing the door.

‘Good girl,’ he yawns watching her tail flicker at the praise.

Despite the sheer exhaustion it takes time for Paco to drift off, his mind ablaze with thoughts and images of where to go and how to survive.

The town is too dangerous; they tracked him yesterday despite the rain washing the scent from the road.  They knew where he was so they’ll find him again.  In his mind there is no choice, they’ll have to leave the town and find some desolate house in the country.  Lucy only found him because she knew where the house was.  If he could find another house like that they could hide away.

He sits up, thinking it would be safer to go now before they rally and find them again, but the dog looks beat.  She’s been fighting all night and must be drained.  Weighing up the options in his head he considers just going anyway and hoping the dog will follow.  But then just look at how many of the monsters she’s killed already, no, she is his best chance of survival and that means she needs to be rested to fight again.  A few hours will do it.  Dogs recover quickly right.  Get some food and water in her and they can be off.

He rests back with his hands behind his head, flexing his biceps and rubbing the thick beard on his face.  Sleep gently dulls his mind, drawing him down into slumber in the warm summer air.

TWENTY-NINE

DAY ELEVEN

‘Terri, slow down! Who are you talking about? What dog?’ Sergeant Hopewell looks at the flustered woman with confusion.  Terri breaths out slowly, gathering her thoughts and getting her breathing back under control from sprinting through the compound to the police offices.

‘A woman, she just arrived outside with some Polish families.  She’s not Polish though, English,’ Terri nods trying to get her point across.

‘English…right…keep going,’ Sergeant Hopewell prompts as Ted looks on with interest.

‘She said there was a dog outside her house, it was killing the undead…it was there all day and all night, she felt the dog was protecting her and her children…’

‘Okay, keep going.’

‘Well, the dog didn’t turn! She said it was there all day, you see? The dog was killing the undead and taking in their blood and flesh but it didn’t turn.  She said it was still the same the next morning, like a normal dog with normal eyes and wagging its tail!’  Terri watches as Sergeant Hopewell’s eyes go wide as she grasps the implication.

‘Where was it?’ Ted asks stepping forward and staring closely at Terry.

‘Er…it’s on the form, hang on,’ Terri replies flicking through the sheets of paper on her clipboard.

‘She’s outside?’ Sergeant Hopewell asks.

‘Yes Sarge, still waiting to be processed.’

‘Ted, find Chris and meet me outside.’

‘Will do,’ Ted calls already heading for the door as he pushes his flat cap on and adjusts his utility belt.

‘Tell me again what she said?’ Sergeant Hopewell asks as they walk through the compound towards the front gates.  Terri relays it her account again, slightly breathless from the fast walking.

‘What kind of dog was it?’

‘Er…I don’t know…maybe she said but I can’t remember,’ Terri replies.

‘Must be a big one to be able to kill them so easily.’

‘Alsatian! She said it was a big Alsatian.’

‘Was it one of ours? It would make sense if it was trained to take people down, but no…the police dogs go for the arms don’t they?’

‘Yes Sarge, they use the bite sleeves.’

‘Well it doesn’t matter, I suppose we can’t exactly ask it can we, open the gates please,’ she barks in advance of reaching the inner gate.  The guards jump at her command, quickly wrenching the door back watching as the two officers stride through.

‘Debbie?’ Chris shouts from behind her.  She turns round to see him striding through the gate behind her, his face looking very red and flushed.

‘Chris, did Ted bring you up to speed?’

‘Kind of, something about a dog killing the zombies but not turning,’ Chris glances back at Ted following in his wake.

‘Terri said a woman just turned up outside saying there was a dog outside her house all day and all night, it was killing the things but it didn’t turn.’

‘How many did it kill? How did it kill them? What was the time difference between the first kill and the last time she saw it?’ Chris barks the question as Debbie waves her hands to slow him down.

‘You missed your calling Chris, you should have been a detective…we don’t know that yet, we’re going out to speak to her now.’

‘I’ll get Doc Roberts and meet you out there,’ he walks off towards the vetting tents, walking straight into an examination being conducted by two of the medical staff on a man stood there naked with his hands over his privates.  ‘Where’s the Doc?’ He asks in an urgent tone.

‘Which one?’ The older of the two medics asks pointedly.

‘The Doc, Doc Roberts…where is he?’

‘Having a break out the back but…’ he gets cut off by Chris walking past them, nodding at the naked man and pulling the curtain back to find Doctor Roberts sat in a chair in the sun a few metres away.

‘What now for the love of god?’ Doctor Roberts groans at the big bearded man walking towards him with a look of focus on his face.

‘Doc we got a woman just turned up outside…’

‘Another one?’ He replies sarcastically.

‘No listen, she said there was a dog outside her house before she got here, it was killing the things…’

‘I’m a Doctor Chris, not a vet…’

‘Just listen!’ Chris growls getting a hard look from the doctor, ‘the dog was outside all day and all night, killing the things…she told Terri it didn’t turn…Hey…hang on…’

‘Where is she? Come on man don’t stand there catching flies!’

Swallowing a curt reply Chris takes off after the Doctor, rolling his eyes and muttering under his breath.

‘Is he all clear?’ Doctor Roberts demands of the two medics stood talking to the naked man.

‘Yes Doctor,’ they reply in unison.

‘Then what the hell is he still doing here? Get dressed man! This isn’t a nudist club.’ He strides past, the long tails of his white lab coat billowing behind him.  Chris passes through the tent, nodding once more at the very confused looking naked man.  ‘Open the gates please, come on I haven’t got all day…get them open! Well done, now where is she? Chris what are you doing back there? Keep up man, I thought you were in the army?’

‘Yes Doctor,’ Chris bites his tongue, ‘good god,’ he blanches in surprise at the long queue of people waiting to come into the fort.

‘Well? Are you going to stand there gawping all day?’

‘Sorry Doc, er…down there with the police officers,’ he leads the way.  Walking past the filthy refugees sat in the shade of vehicles and drinking water handed to them by the guards walking up and down.

‘Debbie, is this the woman? Hi, I’m Chris and this is Doctor Roberts,’ Chris turns to the woman at a nod from Sergeant Hopewell, extending his hand at the terrified woman clutching a baby to her chest.’

‘Have I done something wrong?’ She asks worried at the sudden attention and feeling a sense of panic that maybe they’ll refuse her from going inside.

‘No, nothing like that love,’ Chris switches to a soft tone, crouching down and smiling gently, ‘you told Terri something about a dog?’

‘The dog? Yeah but he didn’t bite any of us, it was outside the whole time, we didn’t go near it I promise.’

‘That’s great, you’ve done nothing wrong love, really.  We’ll get you inside very quickly I promise, we’ve got baby formula inside, clean water so you can get cleaned up and get some sleep.  You must be exhausted?’

‘I’m okay, really I am…I can work and do things.’

‘It’s okay love, we just want to ask about the dog, tell us what you told Terri.’

‘Er…well it just turned up and stayed outside,’ she shrugs clearly very scared.

‘Chris, may I?’ Terri touches his broad shoulder gently motioning him to budge over so she can take over.  He concedes, accepting that his big bearded face being thrust at her might be causing her more alarm.

‘This man is Chris, he kind of runs the fort, that man is Doctor Roberts, he’s in charge of the medical teams here.  This lady is Sergeant Hopewell, she’s my boss and in charge of the police.  The other man is Ted, he’s in charge of all the guards here.  You’ve done nothing wrong, really.  But what you told me about the dog is vitally important, do you understand? There is nothing you can tell us that will mean bad things will happen to you.  Unless you’ve been bitten or scratched and you’ve already told me you’ve had no contact…’

‘No we haven’t,’ she replies quietly staring at Terri.

‘So you can go in the fort, but what you told me about the dog, I need you to tell all of us again? Be as detailed as you can and don’t leave anything out.

‘Okay, it was an Alsatian, I know them cos my uncle had one when I was younger.  We was at home, me and the kids and those things were outside, all round the house and trying to get in.  I thought we were done for, I really did.  My car was out the back but I was too scared to go outside…I didn’t know if they was by the car or not as I couldn’t see the car from the house…’

‘Okay, that’s great,’ Terri nods in earnest.

‘It was sat in the shade on the other side of the road, opposite the house.  It was big, really big, biggest dog I’ve ever seen.  It started killing the things, jumping up and biting them in the throat…it did all of ‘em…one after the other until they was all dead.’

‘What happened next?’ Terri asks.

‘It came over to the house and I could see it were normal, you know, like a normal dog.  It was hot and pantin’ so I put some water down in a bucket…’

‘Did it drink the water?’ Doc Roberts asks in an impatient tone and earning a very stern look from Sergeant Hopewell.

‘It drank all of it, I put more down then more things kept comin’ and it went out and killed them too, stayed there all day it did.’

‘You said it was there in the night too?’ Terri prompts, not wanting to lead the woman but aware that the impatient Doctor Roberts was stood right behind her tapping his foot.

‘The night was bleedin’ awful, they all got fast and howled they did.  Started chargin’ the house and banging at the doors and windows.  I was in the bedroom with my kids but I left the window open and heard everything,’ she sobs suddenly, the memory of her own actions still racking her with guilt.  ‘I had a knife, I thought they was gonna get in and I…I was gonna kill my kids so them things couldn’t get ‘em.  I could hear the dog outside, snarling and barking all night.  I could hear it ripping them apart…I could hear the bodies as they hit the ground.  Then the front room window got smashed and I held that knife to my baby’s throat,’ she cries harder, tears free falling down her cheeks. ‘That dog though, it must have kept ‘em out…I didn’t look until the morning and by then there was just dead bodies everywhere and blood, just blood and bits of body…’

‘Was the dog still there?’ Doctor Roberts asks, his tone softer now after hearing the awful account and seeing the grief pouring from the woman.

‘It was Sir, I put more water down and it drank again.  It was covered in blood it was.  We left then, in the car…I couldn’t stand another day in that house…’

‘Was that the last time you saw it?’ Terri asks.

‘No, I drove down the side road and stopped at the junction, it was still outside my house, just sat there wagging its tail, I shouted thank you and we went off.  I wanted to take it with us but I was worried in case it turned or somethin’.

‘That’s great,’ Terri says softly, ‘did you see the dog’s eyes?’

‘Yeah it was right below the window, could see them clear as anything.’

‘What colour were they?’ Doctor Roberts asks as Terri rolls her eyes.

‘Brown, just normal dog colour.’

‘Not red? Did you see any red colour in the eyes?’

‘No,’ she shakes her head.

‘And that was in the daytime and the morning after the night, yes? You saw the dog’s eyes both times?’

‘Yeah like I said, I kept putting water down for it; it stared up and wagged its tail.’

‘You said the dog was killing the things, how exactly was it doing that?’ The Doctor probes.

‘What do you mean? It bit them, with its mouth…and was like shaking its head when it got ‘em down on the floor.’

‘So you saw the dog biting into the things, it made them bleed yes?’

‘Blood everywhere.’

‘Was there any blood on the dog? In or on its mouth?’

‘Course there was, the dog was covered in it…all over its mouth, down its chest, on its paws, dripping from its tongue it was.’

‘Thank you, we’ll get you through very quickly…just wait here please,’ Doctor Roberts nods at Chris and Sergeant Hopewell.  They step away, going across the dirt lane with Ted and Terri and speaking quietly.

‘What do you think?’ Chris asks the doctor.

‘What do I think? I think you need to find that bloody dog and get it back here.’

‘Could a dog be immune to…whatever this is?’ Ted asks seriously.

‘No idea Ted,’ the doctor knots his bushy eyebrows in deep thought, ‘anything is possible. It could be that breed, a genetic mutation or that particular dog having some kind of anti-body that is resistant.  When was this?’ He snaps back to attention directing the question at Terri.

‘She wasn’t sure, maybe the second or third day.

‘Could be dead by now, might have just been a delayed reaction…Chris, we need that dog here and I need fuel for the bloody generators so I can get my equipment running.’

‘If we find that dog you can have all the fuel, I promise you that much Doc.’

‘We need search teams…’ Sergeant Hopewell cuts in.

‘We need Howie and his lot,’ Ted replies, ‘they’ll find that dog.’

‘They’re out on scavenging runs,’ Chris says. ‘Doc, you tell me how much of a priority this is and I’ll get some teams out now…’

‘Without knowing more I couldn’t say, but based on that terrified woman’s account that is already a week old…’

‘But she said the dog was biting the things, that means it must have been taking their blood in…and it didn’t turn all night,’ Terri says quickly.

‘True,’ the doctor nods, ‘you’re right, Chris this is the biggest chance we’ve got right now.  Find that dog.  Bring any Alsatians you find back here.  If they find that dog get it back alive at all costs.’

‘What if it’s dead?’ Chris asks.

‘Bring the body here, we can still examine it but we need it alive.  If that dog is immune to the virus this is the best chance we’ve got at finding a vaccine or a cure.  Find it Chris, find it and get it back here.’

THIRTY

DAY ELEVEN

‘How did you get on?’ I ask Clarence as he jumps down from the Saxon.  A convoy of vehicles drives through the gates behind him.  Estate cars mostly and a couple of vans.  ‘Don’t answer that mate, I can see.  Any contacts?’

‘A few shufflers but that was it, how’s it going here?’

‘Slowly getting there,’ I reply, ‘Norman was trying to get them to load everything self by shelf but I said to concentrate on the food first, then toiletries and finally everything else.’

The vehicles pull up in the car park, doors opening and slamming as the lads and Lani drift back towards the Saxon.  They all look so hot and bothered with sluggish movements.

Loading the goods takes a while, first the lorry is filled up and moved out the way before the vans and cars get stacked with every type of food in the building.  We’ll never fit everything in but we do well and vastly increase our stock.  We can always come back tomorrow and take the rest.

As the days drifts into evening we’re finished.  Having to leave enough free vehicles and space in vans to transport the people.  It’s a tight fit as we’re forced to squeeze them into every nook and cranny we’ve got.  The vans are seriously overloaded, as are the cars but I don’t think the police will be out too much today so as long as we take it relatively easy we should be okay.

Surprisingly, Norman and Geoff are extremely effective at getting everyone where they should be.  Geoff was one word answers when we first arrived but then I guess anybody would be faced with what he saw coming down the road, but they’re both exceptionally polite and friendly.  Listening to people while still getting them to do what’s needed.  I can already see they’re going to fit in well at the fort.

The Saxon leads them out of the car park, using our radios to acknowledge when the last one leaves so we can pause while they lock the gates.  Then we’re off.  Slowly driving a very long convoy back through the town and onto the motorway.

‘Everyone okay?’ I call out once we’re settled in.

‘Hot,’ Cookey answers quickly.

‘Fucking hot,’ Nick adds just as quick.

‘Damn hot,’ Lani then says.

‘What? You want the heating up? Okay, I’ll put it on,’ I reach out for the controls, not actually knowing which one to press or twist, the gesture is enough and I get a series of moans and groans in reply.  ‘I think we’ve earned an evening off, maybe a swim, a couple of cold drinks…we’ll see if there’s any beer anywhere, what do you reckon?’

‘Is that a promise?’ Lani asks in a suspicious voice.

‘To the best of my ability I promise.’

‘We’ll hold you to that boss,’ Clarence joins in, ‘if anything else happens tonight I will…I will…’

‘What? What will you do?’

‘Cry probably,’ he grins ruefully.

‘Are we back out tomorrow Mr Howie?’ Cookey shouts up.

‘Probably mate, if not then I’m sure they’ll have something else planned for us.’

‘It’s not been a bad day though, considering,’ Tom adds.

‘True, on the grand scale of how our days normally seem to go this one has been quite good, apart from the heat.’

‘Is this heat from what’s happening?’ Cookey asks.

‘How the fuck would that happen you twat,’ Blowers snorts.

‘Well I’ve never known it this hot before and I’ve also never known a zombie apocalypse either…’

‘How can they be related?’ Blowers asks.

‘Actually, I was thinking about this,’ I call out, ‘with the sudden cessation of…’

‘With the what?’ Cookey interrupts.

‘The cessation…with all the vehicles suddenly stopping, the factories, the airplanes, no fuels being burnt off.  Less gasses in the atmosphere or air? Maybe some kind of connection.’

‘Ha, in your face Blowers,’ Cookey yells gleefully, ‘Mr Howie said it might be so get fucked.’

‘But then again it also might just be a freak summer, global warming or the polar ice caps…’

‘Eat shit Cookey,’ Blowers retorts as Cookey groans.  Lani laughs wickedly at the banter, giggling away in the corner at the back.

‘Was it hot in Thailand?’ Nick asks.

‘I don’t know, I was a baby when we moved here,’ she replies, ‘no that’s not true, I have been there with my family and yes it’s hot.’

‘Hot like this?’

‘I guess so, it’s very humid and this is humid and sticky too, yeah I think it is.’

‘Can you cook Thai food?’ Nick asks hopefully.

‘That’s racist,’ Cookey blurts out.

‘What? No it’s not,’ Nick responds.

‘Just coz she’s from Thailand you think she can cook Thai food, what like every Chinese person can do egg fried rice.’

‘Piss off fuckwit, I asked if she could cook Thai food, I didn’t just think she could.’

‘Well can you cook English food then?’

‘Er…yeah,’ Nick replies sarcastically, ‘I can do a full English.’

‘A full English doesn’t count,’ Cookey retorts.

‘What other English food is there then?’ Nick demands.

‘Well, other English food, you know…’

‘Toad in the hole?’ Blowers suggests.

‘Fish and chips,’ Tom adds.

‘Isn’t Beef Wellington an English dish?’ Cookey asks.

‘I don’t think England is that famous for our cooking,’ Nick says thoughtfully, ‘anyway, ignore that retard, can you cook Thai food?’

‘Yes Nick I can cook Thai food,’ she replies laughing at the arguments.

‘Wow! I’m starving…I wish we could have a take-away tonight,’ he groans.

‘I think they’re closed,’ Clarence says.

‘Fucking zombies ruin everything,’ Nick moans, ‘I could murder a pizza.’

‘I thought you wanted Thai food?’ Lani asks.

‘Well yeah but…yeah okay I could murder a Thai take-away, a Chinese, an Indian….anything really.’

‘KFC?’ Blowers asks.

‘Shit chips at KFC,’ Cookey replies.

‘MacDonald’s do the best chips,’ Tom says.

‘Nah, my local chippie does the best ones,’ Nick sighs wistfully.

‘Ah well, I’m sure we can have some baked beans and tinned veggies served with instant mash potato,’ Blowers says.

‘You remember that meal Tucker did before the fight?’ Nick says quietly.

‘Fucking right, Tucker was a legend,’ Cookey adds.

‘You’d have loved him Lani, he always had loads of food in his bag,’ Nick explains, ‘carried snack bars and made sure we always had stuff to eat.’

‘He sounds amazing,’ Lani says quietly.

‘Fuck me we’re going soooo slowly,’ Cookey groans with a glance out the front.

‘Can’t speed up mate, those vans are seriously over-loaded,’ I shout back.

‘Did you see those girls in the crowd outside the warehouse?’ Nick says after a pause.

‘I did,’ Tom replies quickly, ‘the blond and brunette yeah?’

‘Yeah, they were fit,’ Nick says.

‘The one with the dark hair had massive ti…’

‘Alex!’ Dave shouts down from the GPMG, ‘I can hear you and there is a lady present.’

‘Sorry,’ Cookey winces, apologising to Lani.

‘It doesn’t bother me, I worked in a nightclub for long enough,’ she laughs.

‘She said she doesn’t mind Dave,’ Cookey shouts up cheekily.

‘I do,’ Dave replies making me and Clarence grin.

‘Can I say she was busty?’ He calls up.

‘Yes you can say that.’

‘How about melons?’ Cookey shouts to a round of low oooh’s from everyone else.

‘No.’

‘Bazungas?’

‘No.’

‘Airbags?’

‘No.’

‘Hooters?’

‘No.’

‘Gob stoppers?’ He keeps going, knowing he’s getting laughs from everyone else.

‘No.’

‘Tits?’

‘No.’

‘Titties?’

‘No.’

‘Love pillows?’

‘No.’

‘Love pillows?’ Lani laughs.

‘Norks?’

‘No.’

‘Knockers?’

‘No.’

‘Gazongas?’

‘No.’

‘Babylons?’

‘No.’

‘Boobies.’

‘No.’

‘What? Boobies isn’t offensive.’

‘No.’

‘Boobs?’

‘Yes.’

‘So busty and boobs, how about breasts?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay.’

‘Anymore Alex?’

‘No Dave.’

‘Good.’

‘Yeah so the dark haired girl with the big boobs, yeah I saw her,’ Cookey continues.  I glance round to see Blowers clutching his sides with laughter, Nick and Tom almost crying from the quick exchange.

‘He’s a character,’ Clarence chuckles next to me.

‘He is,’ I laugh back.

‘Did you get their names?’ Cookey asks.

‘Nah, didn’t really think it was the right time for my chat up lines,’ Nick replies.

‘Kate and Julie,’ Tom says.

‘How the fuck did you do that?’ Nick asks stunned.

‘I asked them, introduced myself while you were talking to the others.’

‘You sly bastard,’ Cookey laughs.

‘Which one is which?’ Blowers asks in an interested tone.

‘Ah now that is sensitive information which I cannot divulge,’ Tom replies.

‘Tom! Come on mate, you got to tell us which is which,’ Nick shouts.

‘Do I?’ Tom laughs.

‘Tom, is Kate the blond one?’ Cookey asks.

‘I can’t say,’ he replies.

‘Yes you can! Kate is the blond one isn’t she? I know it.’

‘Not saying, I’ve got an advantage at the moment so I can’t give you any help.’

‘Oh that’s not fair,’ Nick cuts in, ‘you’ll be like walking about in the fort giving it large and saying oh hi Kate or hey there Julie…stroking your gun and…’

‘Stroking my gun?’ Tom laughs.

‘Ah this isn’t fair, we’re a team so we should share everything,’ Cookey whines.

‘Not everything,’ Tom chuckles again.

‘As soon as we get back I’m running down the vehicles to find them and ask,’ Cookey says.

‘Yeah that’ll go down well,’ Blowers replies.

‘Bribe Doc Roberts and get them in first,’ Nick jokes.

‘We could if we knew their names…Tom…’ Cookey adds.

‘The dark haired girl is Julie,’ I shout back.

‘Ah Mr Howie,’ Tom moans.

‘Sorry Tom, I couldn’t stand Cookey moaning the entire way back.

‘How do you know that?’ Lani asks.

‘Oh Mr Howie is in trouble,’ Nick jokes to a few laughs.

‘I heard someone calling her,’ I shout back, twisting round to smile at her.  She grins back to a few more ‘oooh’s’ from everyone.  I turn back to the road shaking my head at the absurdity of it all.

‘Sun’s going down, it’ll be dark soon,’ Clarence says after a few minutes of general chat.

‘I won’t miss not hearing the howls tonight,’ I reply.

‘Just keep thinking of that cool swim,’ he says.

‘Oh I am mate, a cool swim and a proper bed…sounds perfect.’

THIRTY-ONE

DAY SEVEN

Standing at the turnstile Paco looks back towards the town.  Having left the house mid-afternoon and making his way through the residential streets, following the route of suburbia as it transitioned from terraced to semi-detached to the affluent outer reaches of detached houses with long driveways.

Carrying a gym bag filled with tinned food and water on his back he pauses and thinks if this is the right thing to do.  Leave the town where there are houses with thick walls and doors.  But that didn’t stop them last night, so yes it is the right thing to do.  Find somewhere remote and hide away.  He nods and looks down at the dog sat next to him. An image floods of his mind of the DVD cover for I Am Legend with Will Smith stood next to a big Alsatian dog.

Paco auditioned for that role but he was told he lacked the emotional range so he missed out.  This was his first zombie film and it was already billed to be the biggest zombie blockbuster ever.  Well it was.  Not now.

Cursing his luck he pushes the turnstile open, waiting for the dog to squeeze through.  They walk into the footpath, shaded by overhanging trees and head away from the town into the countryside.

Here he is, the biggest action movie star of all time, walking through a post-apocalyptic land devastated by infected monsters with a huge dog and no one to see it.  Mind you, he muses, all they would see is me blubbing in the corner of rooms while the dog does all the work.  Emotional range? Damn he’d give them emotional range now.  If this ever fixes he knows he’ll spend the rest of his life in the counsellor’s chair.

He thought being away from the town would make him feel safer and settled, but despite the recent bout of rain, the ground is hard and compacted.  His boots crunch with each step, the only real sound other than the dogs faint panting.  He moves over to the side, walking on the grass verge and swerving back onto the path checking which is the quieter route to walk.  The grass, definitely the grass.  A dry stick snaps underfoot making him jump.  His already shot nerves feeling even more strained.

They press on, moving steadily away from the town and deeper into the countryside.  Following signed footpaths, crossing fields and scrambling through bushes and copses.  Sweat drips down his face, soaking his beard and drenching his t-shirt.  Wiping it with the back of his forearm he catches the smell emanating from his armpits, grimacing in disgust and realising how easy it was for them to track him.

He stinks.  Not just smells but he stinks.  Shitting himself, pee escaping with fright, sweat, food, grime and filth coat his skin.  The rain refreshed him but didn’t budge the grease locking the dirt onto his skin.

Wash and stay clean, remove all traces of scent as often as possible.  Muttering quietly to himself with an occasional glance from the dog he makes plans, creates lists and forms strategies for survival.  The steady motion takes his mind back to the filming of Man on the Run.  Playing an ex-special forces soldier accused of a crime he didn’t commit and using his skills to survive in the wilds while being tracked by an increasingly growing army of police and military.  A large portion of the film was showing Paco’s characters using survival skills, testing for clean water, making a fire from sticks, making traps for animals.  With audiences becoming ever more discerning he’d insisted on being shown the correct methods for each of the tasks he was set.  A genuine survivalist was brought in to coach Paco through the close up stuff.  Who was that guy? Paco frowns trying to remember his name, something all American, Chuck or Chad.  Maybe Buck.  He could picture the quietly spoken man now, showing him the techniques and talking him through the movements.  Paco studied him closely, adopting his mannerisms and he’d scored a big hit with the audiences.  But right now, at the point where he needed those skills more than ever he’d be damned if he could remember a single thing he was taught.

His mind was too full to think straight.  Stuck on an endless loop of horrific images of what the monsters will do to him if they ever catch him.  In his mind the sole purpose of the monsters, their sole intent was to track him down and eat him.  Nothing else mattered.  None of these normal little people that were killed to actually become the monsters of his nightmares.  They didn’t factor in his egotistical mind.

He’d fed and watered the dog before they set off, but that was simply to keep it strong and healthy as it seemed intent on sticking with him.

Looking down at the dog now, trotting along happily in the bright sunlight with her long pink tongue lolling out the side of her mouth he thinks back to how she killed that first monster in the road.  Tearing its throat out with utter viciousness.  And last night, listening to her kill and kill again.  He shakes his head, reaching down to stroke the top of her head.  She looks up, big brown eyes and gives her tail a quick wag.

‘Good girl,’ he says softly rubbing her head harder.  Keep the dog fed, watered and happy he thinks.

A few hours of walking brings them to the side of a shallow valley.  Looking down at a collection of farm buildings surrounded by cultivated fields.  He drops down low, hugging the ground and staring for signs of movement.

‘Too obvious,’ he whispers to the dog lying next to him, ‘that farmstead’ll be full of good old boys toting shotguns and rifles.  No sir, not for us, come on,’ he scoots backwards dropping down the hill before standing up and walking away to skirt miles round the valley and deeper into the country.

They find an unmade track, rutted with potholes and two distinct lanes used by vehicle wheels with grass growing in the middle.  A collection of buildings starts to show in the distance.  Flashes of blue, green, yellow all in pastel shades.  The land flattens out abruptly at the edge of a wooded copse.  In front of him stands the stone built detached chalets.  Built in a large circle around a central green.  Still some distance away and he stands in the shades of the trees scanning and watching.  No movement.  No cars.  No noise drifting over either.

They break free from the cover of the trees, edging closer to the buildings, puzzled at the display of colour so deep in the countryside.  Each chalet is a different pastel shade with large sun windows.  A gravel lane leads round the edge of the green giving access to the buildings.  In the middle stands a brick built barbeque area and fire pit with old style wooden carved bench seats dotted about.

The lane leading in has a small car park and reception hut made of wood.  Stopping every few minutes he listens and watches.  Only moving off when satisfied.

Reaching the reception hut he stops to read the welcome sign.  Table Top Holiday Chalets Are Currently Closed For Refurbishment.  His forehead knots with puzzlement at the strange name, then glancing round he nods with realisation at the unusually flat area.

‘Table top,’ he whispers to the dog knowingly, ‘no cars, no people, miles from anywhere, what do you think dog?’ He asks.  She doesn’t answer but sniffs the ground.  He watches her for a while, checking that she’s seems happy with the smells she finds.

She looks completely normal, scooting about with her nose to the ground and checking round to check he’s still there every few minutes.

‘Okay, let’s do this,’ he nods bravely and ventures past the reception building.  The nerves start straight away with something new that needs checking and it sends his terror levels soaring.

They loop round the back of the buildings first, checking each window and moving from chalet to chalet.  Back at the start he enters the circle again, this time to the front of the buildings and again going to each to look through the windows.  With the doors and windows all locked and secured he feels satisfied that no one else is here.

At the reception building he peers through the window at the office facilities inside.  An alarm box fitted to the side of the building gives him a momentary minute of worry but with no power the alarm can’t go off.  Finding a rock he gently taps at the pane of glass above the door lock.  Wincing at the sound of smashing glass that cascades down onto the hard floor.

Inside he finds the key cupboard and thumbs through the fobs, each one tagged with a colour.  Stepping outside he picks the one facing the entrance lane, pocketing the pastel blue fob and heading across the green.

Paco stands back after opening the door, staring down at the dog and watching her closely.  She sniffs about and walks in without a care in the world.  He holds position, waiting expectantly for her to bark, snarl or launch into an attack on monsters hiding in the rooms.  It doesn’t happen; instead she sniffs around the rooms and trots about.  Single story, no stairs.

He closes the door behind him and walks through the small building.  Two bedrooms, bathroom, kitchen and lounge.  Sparsely furnished with bare essentials, some kind of idea that being in the countryside means you don’t need home comforts.

In the kitchen he tests the cold tap, finding it still running with cool fresh water.  With the dog watered he remembers his plans and strategies, stripping off in the kitchen and scrubbing his body down with cold water.  No soap in the bathroom so he uses washing up liquid from a kitchen cupboard, foaming it up to remove the film of grease clogging his skin.   Standing naked in the kitchen he soaks his clothes, using the washing up liquid and a stiff brush to scrub at the stains.

The dog watches him closely, lying next to the bowl of water and panting noisily as he wrings the clothes out and heads outside the back door to swing them round and round, sending the excess water spraying off onto the lush green grass.

With the clothes laid across a patio chair in the strong sun he potters about in his birthday suit, opening tins and feeling his skin tightening from the sudden removal of the grime.

He sits outside in the sun, feeling the warmth on his bare skin and eating cold beans, feeding the dog more ravioli and chuckling at the thought of the coming farting contest.  As the sun sets he shrugs his now dry clothes on and stands at the front door, straining his ears.  He waits for a long time, well past nightfall but no noises of the monsters howling reach him.  He studies the dog closely, her ears prick and twitch as she detects slight noises in the bushes from animals but nothing more than that.  When she lies down and rests her chin on her paws he knows they must be safe and gently calls her inside, locking the door and collapsing exhausted on the bed in the back bedroom.

The dog jumps up, walking round in a tight circle for a few seconds before lying down.  Paco, laying on top of the covers with his boots on, moves his leg to rest against her back, feeling the comfort of the warmth from her body.

The following morning Paco woke from the sunlight streaming across his eyes.  Blinking the sleep away he sat up, marvelling at having slept for so many hours undisturbed.  The dog was already at the front door, scratching and whining.  Stepping outside he stretched and yawned, checking the perimeter with a smile at the unchanged view.

‘Perfect,’ he whispered quietly as the dog took a piss on the grass. She turned round, sniffing her urine before moving off and taking a big steaming crap.

‘Nice,’ Paco said, ‘maybe I should take a crap on the lawn,’ he suggested heading inside to find a bag to clear the dog mess away before the smell attracted unwanted company.  Failing to find a bag he used toilet tissue.  The shit was half runny and still warm, soaking the paper which split as his fingers pressed into the gooey faeces.  Gagging he stood up, turning round to glare at the dog.  He stopped mid-turn, staring off into the distance at a thick column of smoke drifting high into the sky.

The sight brought him back to reality.  Whatever it was that was burning was big, the smoke cloud was huge.  Glancing around nervously he chided himself for being in a relaxed state before rushing off back into the house.

The rest of day was spent in a state of near bliss.  No noises, no movement.  Just peace and quiet.

He went outside periodically, making himself examine the view and memorise how everything was.  If anything was moved or altered he’d know.

They drank water, lots of water and ate tinned food.  The dog slept, sniffed about, pissed more and slept again.  She seemed happy and content to just be which pleased Paco as he couldn’t think of anywhere better to be right now.  Other than in Wyoming on his ranch with his parents and all their big guns.

The day passed peacefully with Paco content to sit with his back to the front door and his legs stretched out across the gravel path.  The sun was hot, the humidity was high.  He dozed on and off, gently waking up every now and then.  The dog did the same, shifting position to stay in the shade of the house.

By nightfall they two were rested and feeling secure for the first time in days.  Nothing had happened.  Not one sound other than natural animal and bird noises.  Before the sun went down, Paco walked the edge of the gravel path checking the view one last time and making sure everything was still the same.

As darkness descended he retired to the bedroom, stretching out on the covers with the dog at his feet again.  He thought of home, of his family and the life he had.  He remembered the girl in his trailer giving him the blowjob before it all went so terribly wrong.  What was her name? Hell, what was any of their names?  Lucy was a strange cookie he mused in the darkness.  Shame she got herself trapped, could have had some more fun with that one.

His breathing slowed, his heart rate relaxed as his unconscious slowly steals the light from his mind.

‘Ssshh,’ he nudges the dog with his leg, rolling onto his side.  She growls again, louder this time snapping him awake instantly.

He sits up, the moonlight creeping in through the window and offering some illumination.  Head cocked to one side listening intently.  His heart already going like the clappers.  He scoots off the bed, standing up slowly and creeping round to the other side.  He rests his hand on the dog’s head quietly shushing her so he can listen.  She ignores him, eyes fixed on the window and staring hard into the night.  He moves over to the side of the window, slowly poking his head round and peering out into the darkness.  Nothing there, no movement.  The moon is bright and his eyes well-adjusted to the gloom.  He sweeps his gaze along the perimeter.  All the houses are the same, he can see out beyond them to the surrounding area.

‘What is it?’ He whispers to the dog.  There must be a reason why she’s growling.  He eases himself through the small chalet, checking out of windows and examining the view he’d already committed to memory.  Everything looked the same.

He cracks the front door open and listens.  Again nothing.  He opens it wider, peering out but keeping his hands firmly on the handle ready to slam it closed.

The dog squeezes past his legs, standing in front of him and growling at the entrance lane.  Something must be out there.  The monsters, they must be coming down the lane after following his stinky armpits and fetid arse across the valleys and hills.

He tenses up, ready to flee.  Monsters are coming; they’re coming to eat the flesh from my bones.  Monsters carrying flashlights. No, that’s not right.  They don’t carry flashlights, do they?

He stares harder, watching the pinpricks of light getting larger; a dull roar reaches his ears.  An engine.  Vehicle headlamps shining down the lane.  The relief is palpable, other people, other survivors.  But it’s the middle of the night, why are they driving in the night when it’s most dangerous? Unless something is chasing them.

With the thoughts whirling through his mind he urges the dog back inside and closes the door quickly, dropping down and crawling into the bedroom to watch through the window.  The dog, recognising the sound of the vehicle felt it could relax but the man’s fear went up.  He’s scared and hiding.  She stays alert watching Paco as he gradually lifts up to poke his head above the windowsill and watch the lights coming in.

The vehicle pulls into the gravel lane, the lights sweeping across the houses until it does a full loop, stopping by the entrance.

After ducking down and hiding from the lights going past, Paco again peers out the window and watches as the mini-van comes to a stop.  Two people get out, both male by the looks of their size and build.  They stand talking and looking about, the moonlight bathing them in an eerie glow which just increases the tension Paco feels.

One of the men lights a cigarette, causing Paco to break out in panic at the smell it will produce.  Knowing the monsters can smell and track them from a great distance.  One of the men says something, the other laughs.  The sound is weird, not just laughing but drunken guffawing.  They both laugh as one lifts a bottle to his lips and takes a big swig.  The one without the bottle goes to the back of the van, opening the doors and leaning inside.  He drags another person out.  A woman with her hands tied behind her back.  She screams and cries out, both the men laugh again and push her roughly to the floor.

Between them, the men manhandle the woman to the centre of the grass, near the fire pit.  After dumping the woman on the ground they stand talking and sharing the bottle, passing it between them and tilting their heads back taking long gulps.

Paco watches with a feeling of dread growing in his stomach at the sight of the woman writhing on the ground.  These men must have known this place was here.  He curses himself softly, knowing it was too good to be true.  Why can’t they go somewhere else? Everyone has been turned into goddamn monsters, there’s loads of empty houses.  Why here?

The men laugh noisily, the sounds easily drifting over to Paco and the dog.  He watches as they start breaking up a wooden chair, smashing into smaller pieces and piling the bits into the fire pit.  Great, Paco thinks, they’re settling in for a sing-song round the campfire, fucking toasting marshmallows.

One of the men goes back to the van, coming back with another bottle.  He screws the lid off and pours some of the contents over the broken wood, lighting a match and flicking it down.  The liquor ignites instantly, showering them in the golden glow from the flames.

One is big and fat.  Standing over six feet in height with a great big gut straining against some kind of English football shirt.  The other is skinny, wearing a vest and shorts and covered in tattoos.  They both look like tough men as they stand there smoking and laughing.

Watching them, Paco almost forgets about the girl until the fat guy reaches down and drags her to her feet.  She tries to pull away but he grabs at a length of rope dangling from her bound wrists, laughing as she tries to pull away and yanking her round in circles until she falls to the floor.  Both men find this hilarious and quickly get the woman back to her feet and make her do it again, running round and round until she falls down crying and sobbing.

The fat man pulls her up again, this time he doesn’t spin her round but pulls her into him.  Turning her round so her back is pressed against his fat stomach.  Paco’s own stomach drops as his hands come round her front, roughly squeezing her breasts.  The skinny guys laughs, egging him on.  The fat man carries on for a few seconds, the girl writhing and begging them to stop.  He laughs as he takes both his hands and rips her top off, tearing the material and exposing her breasts.

The atmosphere charges instantly.  Paco’s heart sinks as he realises what they’re going to do.  Right in front of him too.  She screams as the fat man grabs at her naked breasts, squeezing them harder and harder until her knees give out and she drops down.  He laughs and pulls her head into his groin, bucking back and forth as the skinny guy clutches his sides laughing at the sight.

An image of the girl in the trailer flashes through Paco’s mind.  On her knees in front of him.  Just like that girl.  The thought makes him feel sick.  Overwhelmingly disgusted at himself and mankind for what they do.

The fat man pushes her away violently.  Taking the bottle from the other guy he takes a long glug and spits it down onto her face.

‘Oi you cunt, don’t fuckin’ waste it,’ the skinny man shouts.

‘She’s thirsty ain’t she? ‘Ere love, you thirsty are ya?’ The fat man leers, taking another mouthful and spraying it down onto her.

‘I’ll get another one if you’re spittin’ it about,’ skinny man shouts.

‘Go on then, not like we ain’t got enough is it,’ the fat man roars back, clearly showing who the leader of the pair is.  The skinny man walks off, heading back to the van.  ‘Take ya pants off darlin’, things are gonna get interestin,’ the fat man nudges the woman with his foot.

‘She’s got her fuckin’ hands tied ain’t she,’ the skinny man shouts, walking back with another bottle.

‘Oh yeah,’ the fat man laughs, ‘she still looks thirsty to me, she look thirsty to you?’

‘I reckon she does yeah,’ the skinny man replies.

‘Hold her ‘ead, we’ll give her a drink…go on take her fackin’ ‘ead will ya, fackin’ ‘ell, that’s it, hold her tight, ‘ere are love, go on have a drink on me,’ they both laugh as the fat man holds the lip of the bottle to her mouth and gently upends it.  The liquid pouring into her mouth as she chokes and gasps.  They keep going, giving her a second to breath before doing it again.  After a few minutes they get bored as the fat man’s hand drops to her breasts, kneading and rubbing away, forgetting about the bottle.

‘You gonna do her?’ The skinny man asks excitedly.

‘Course I fackin’ am, get her pants off will ya,’ the fat man staggers back, drunkenly pulling his football shirt off and shrugging his shorts down.  His erect penis looks tiny against the bulk off his stomach and fat thighs.

‘Oh no,’ Paco whispers, his heart breaking at the sight.  He wants to turn away but he remains rooted to the spot.  Cursing himself for being a coward and not doing something.

Skinny man twists the girl round and starts pulling her jeans off, she tries to wriggle but he pushes one foot down onto her stomach, lifting her feet up and laughing as he tugs the material at her ankles.  She tries fighting but the jeans come off.

‘She ain’t got no knickers on,’ the skinny guy shouts, ‘you ‘ear that? The slag ain’t got no knickers on.’

‘She fackin’ wants it she does,’ the fat man shouts, his voice now low and hoarse with the flush of excitement at the naked woman lying in front of him.

‘Please…’ she says the first clear word since arriving, her voice soft and terrified.  Paco winces at the sound, his eyes screwing shut, his hands gripping the windowsill.  The dog senses his anguish and growls softly.

‘Please…no….please…don’t do this to me….’

‘Shut up you fackin’ slut, you want some cock don’t ya? Yeah that’s why you got no panties on’ the fat man drops down onto his knees, his stomach wobbling with the impact sent juddering up through his legs.  He grabs her ankles and draws her towards him.  Skinny guy half laughing and watching with clear excitement.

‘I’m begging you, please…oh my god! Please…’ She screams in pain as the fat man thrusts into her.  The muscles in Paco’s arms bulge from his grip on the windowsill.   Dropping his head he prays this is a nightmare, end this now.  Please end this now.

‘Oh god please no!...’ She screams out as the fat man ruts away, his swollen gut crushing her as he props his props his body up on his arms, sweat dripping from his chin onto her writhing face.

‘Please…Mummy…’ she yells in such terror that something in Paco snaps.  The poor girl calling for her mother is too much, and he stands up, striding towards the front door.

‘Get your hands off her,’ he bellows, wrenching the door open and striding outside.  Skinny guy turns stunned as the fat man slowly twists his head round, poised mid thrust.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ the fat man asks belligerently.  The fear hits Paco again, suddenly realising what he’s doing.  Standing and confronting two tough looking men.  This isn’t the movies Paco; they don’t just stop when you yell something.

‘I said…get off her,’ he yells again but the power has drained from his voice, his legs feeling suddenly weak and shaky.

‘Fack off,’ the fat man shouts, ‘wait ya turn, fackin yank cunt, sort him out Steve.’  He carries on thrusting away, laughing at the look on Paco’s face as he stands there bewildered and clearly shitting himself.

The sound of glass smashing snaps Paco’s head to the skinny guy, stood there holding the remains of the bottle by the neck.  The jagged ends facing towards Paco as he starts advancing.

‘You want some yank do ya? Come on then…come on you fuckin’ yank cunt…’

‘Hey guy just take it easy,’ Paco steps back raising one hand to wave at the man.  Steve speeds up, waving the bottle left to right as he shouts goadingly at Paco.

‘Big cunt like you backin’ away like a pussy, come on you fucker,’ the skinny man shouts louder, his voice harsh and brutal.

A black shadow flits past Paco’s legs as the dog charges the man down.  Hearing the aggression in his voice she doesn’t hesitate, crossing the grass within seconds and using the same method she learnt with the things.  Slamming her body weight into his chest, knocking him flat over before sinking her teeth into his throat and ragging her neck violently, tearing his jugular to pieces. Skinny guy’s screams end abruptly as his windpipe is severed.

‘Jesus,’ Paco says stunned.

‘Fack me,’ the fat man shouts, rolling off the girl and crawling away towards his shorts.  The dog releases the skinny man after shaking him about like a rag doll.  She backs away growling at the body as though daring it to get back up.  She turns slowly, fixing her eyes on the fat man crawling away.

‘Ere mate, sort your fackin’ dog out will ya,’ he screams in alarm, getting to his feet to pull his shorts on, his penis already flaccid from the sudden turn of events.

Paco walks forward as though in a dream.  Looking down at the remains of the skinny guy and the dog stalking towards the fat man.

‘Have her for fuck’s sake, we’s only ‘aving a laugh…Jesus mate…call your fackin’ dog off will ya.’

‘It’s not my dog,’ Paco replies stupidly, ‘I don’t know her name.’

‘Well whose fackin’ dog is it then?’ The fat man shouts.

‘I don’t know,’ Paco can’t believe he’s having this conversation.  His eyes flicking back to the wound in Steve’s neck.  He’d seen the bodies in the house and the one the dog took down in the street but they were monsters with red eyes.  This was a normal man; he was speaking just a few seconds ago.  His eyes fall on the girl, lying there naked and staring at him in shock.  Her legs still bent from the position the fat man forced her into.  She looks young, maybe seventeen or eighteen years old at the most.  Her fingers twitch as though reaching out for him.  His mind flushes with the very recent memory of her screaming for her mother, the instinctive calling for the protection of the one person who has always cared for her.

His eyes rise slowly, settling on the fat man.  Something on Paco’s face sends a signal, causing the fat men to freeze.

For days now he’s been living with fear.  Terror has consumed him, driven all other thoughts from his mind.  He’s been unable to function apart from the one urgent pressing need to survive and flee, believing he was just an actor and not capable of defending himself or fighting.  But all those action films and every one of them had instructors showing him what to do, how to fight, how to drop a man, break his arm, break his legs, snap bones.  He was taught how to punch, how to kick, what strikes to use.  Pre-filming training kept him in the gym for hours every day, sparring with experts.  He became adept at the close quarters fighting techniques so valued by the studios these days.  His trademark moves used in nearly every film.  He was strong, fit and despite the fear that ate him up, he was skilled.

Paco strides forward, his long legs eating the ground as he crossed the grass towards the fat man, the dog pacing with him at his side.

‘Ease up mate…fackin’ ‘ell mate…no hard feelings eh? ‘Ere, you’re that fackin’ actor ain’t ya, what is it? Paco Maguire, yeah…fackin’ hell.’  The fat man stops backing away, grinning like an idiot before clocking the intense look on Paco’s face.  He tensed up, full of alcohol and bravado.  A veteran of many pub fights and football ground melees.  Waiting for Paco to get closer he suddenly lunges forward, yelling loudly and flailing his fists towards Paco’s head.

Paco’s guard is up, blocking the punches, striding in close he delivers several snappy punches to the fat stomach, driving the man back.  Paco lashes out, hammering his fists into the man’s face.  Stepping round his training kicks in as he goes for the trademark move of so many of his films.  Slamming his foot down on the back of a knee, forcing the man down.  Paco quickly wraps his left arm round the man’s head pulling him in close.  With every ounce of strength he grips the head, twisting to the side while pushing down.  The spinal column snaps, breaking his neck.

With anger driving his actions he thinks something is wrong, the man is still moving.  He heard the bone break, why is he still moving?  He twists the head again, back the other way and roaring with power as he wrenches it back and forth, killing the man over and again.

He drops the body, realising the dog has a firm grip of one fat calf and is busy tearing it to shreds, jerking the body round.  As it drops to the ground the dog drives in, going for the throat and ripping it out before dropping back low and growling.

He just killed a man.  Killed him with his bare hands.  He looks down at his arms in horror and awe at what he’s done.  The instant conflict raging through his mind.  Murder.  He wanted to kill the man and he did.  That’s murder.  He intended it to be done; he wanted to end the life of this man.

Staggering round he spots the woman sat up, holding her knees to her chest and staring at the ground.  He remembers what the fat man did and the guilt goes as quickly as it came.

He walks over to her, unsure of what to do.  Hesitating and flapping his arms.  She stares motionless at the ground, seemingly unaware of his presence.

‘Hey, you okay?’ He asks, cursing himself for another stupid question.  She’s naked, having just been raped.  Do you think she’s okay?

He drops down, edging closer to the girl.  She doesn’t flinch or shy away like they do in the movies.  She just sits there, staring with wide eyes, unblinking, unmoving.

‘We need to get you inside,’ he says softly.  She doesn’t move, not a flutter.  ‘Listen, I’m gonna carry you okay? I’ll take you inside so you can clean up…I promise I won’t hurt you.’ He gently pushes one arm under her knees and wraps her other round her back, lifting her easily and carrying her across the grass to the house.

Inside he takes her to the bedroom, gently lowering her down onto the covers and pulling them over her. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t whimper.  Not a single reaction.

‘I’ll get you some water okay?’ He moves into the kitchen, filling a glass and finding the washing up bowl, he fills it with water and grabs a cloth from the side.  Rushing back into the room he puts the bowl down and gently lifts the girl up, pressing the glass into her hands.

‘Come on honey, have some water,’ he urges softly.  She responds, grasping the glass and pulling it to her mouth, drinking quickly while staring at him with the same wide eyes.

‘You’re gonna be okay kid, they’re gone now…you need to clean up, there’s water and a cloth here…I’ll be right outside if you need me,’ his deep American voice seems to sooth the girl.  Her hand reaching out as he goes to leave.

‘Don’t leave me,’ she whimpers in a quiet voice.

‘Sure kid, I’ll stay right here,’ he sits back down, smoothing her hair from her forehead.  He wrings the cloth out and wipes her face, gently removing the fat man’s sweat from her skin. ‘What’s your name honey?’

‘Meredith,’ she whispers.

‘Well hey Meredith, I’m Paco…listen honey, you take this cloth and clean yourself, you know what I mean?’ She nods back clearly terrified and shaking like a leaf.

‘Get yourself cleaned up, I’ll be right outside.’

‘No,’ she whispers urgently her hand gripping his wrist.

‘Okay, I’ll stay, I’m gonna turn this way okay? See, I can’t see you kid, you get yourself cleaned up and I’ll stay right here.’  He listens to the rustling as the girl rubs herself with the cloth.  Whimpering with pain she rubs harder and harder, whimpering louder as she tries to rid herself of the every trace of the fat man.

‘Take it easy honey,’ Paco says still looking away.  She ceases at his deep tones and hands the cloth over.  He takes it from her, his eyes squeezing closed for a second at the sight of the dark patches on the white cloth.

‘Hey, see that’s better,’ he turns back, her face shining from the moonlight.  A tear rolls down her cheek, followed by another.  Her bottom lip trembling before she bursts in tears, loud sobs that wrack her body.  She reaches out for him, he responds by shuffling closer and wrapping his arms round her shoulders.  She buries her head onto his chest, her body heaving as she cries violently.  Paco rubs her shoulders gently, his heart breaking at the grief and terror she went through.  He should have moved quicker.  If he’d moved quicker this wouldn’t have happened.  The dog, sensing the distress of the girl jumps onto the bed, pushing her nose into the girls face and licking her cheeks.  She loops an arm round its neck, holding it tightly.

They stay there for hours, the girl sobbing and crying herself to sleep until Paco gently lays her down.  She grips his arm as he goes to leave and he lies down next to her.  The dog settles next to her legs, the two of them offering a protective shield to the young girl.

He wakes several times during the night to feel her crying next to him.  He soothes her with quiet words, stroking her head until they both go quiet and he drifts back off to sleep.

The next morning, he wakes with a start at the dog nosing his face and whimpering urgently.  Sitting bolt upright and staring at the empty space next to him.  He scrabbles off the bed, glancing down at the bloodied water in the bucket and the cloth now stained pink.

He staggers into the hallway, crying out at the sight of the girl’s body hanging from the inside of the front door.  He runs over, yelling out and lifting her up, desperately trying to take the pressure from her neck.  Fumbling he opens the door and holds her body up, blood stains still marking the white skin between her naked legs.  He tugs the rope from the top of the door and lowers her body down.  His strong fingers working at the ligature round her throat.  The skin tight and misshapen from the downwards pressure of her body.

Crying with frustration he runs into the kitchen, wrenching drawers open and emptying the contents onto the side.  With a sharp knife in hand he rushes back, dropping down and gently cutting into the rope.  He gets through it, pulling the length away from her skin.  Drool hangs from her mouth dried spittle coats her lips.  Her eyes open and lifeless.

‘Her kid, come on,’ he yells and drops his ear down to her mouth, listening for breath.  He pushes his ear against her chest, no heartbeat.  He works quickly, pulling her head back and clamping his mouth over hers and exhaling.  Her chest rises as her lungs inflate; he repeats the action before pushing his palms into her breast bone and starting compression.  Ribs snap and break under the pressure.  He keeps going; tears of his own streaming down his cheeks.  The dog sat watching.

‘Come on kid,’ he yells in sheer frustration, ‘don’t do this…come on!’ He keeps breathing for her, pushing at her chest.  Sweat forms and drips from his head.  Seconds go by, minutes tick away.  She remains the same.

He sinks back onto the floor next to her.  Crying with grief.  Remorse flooding through his system, his hands shake as he rubs his face roughly.  Pushing his hair back, rocking back and forth and wailing.  Not caring if every monster in the country came for him.  He wouldn’t run.  He’d offer himself to them.  He deserved it.  He deserved to die for what he’d done.  He should have acted faster, he should have gone straight outside, he should have stayed awake during the night, he should never have left Lucy, he should have gone into the cottage and tried to get her out.  Stinking dirty yellow coward.  He beats himself in the head with his palms.  The dog whimpering and lying down to stare at him forlornly.

The tears ease, the fear gone.  A seed of numbness takes root in his soul, spreading its roots throughout his body.  He stares at the ground between his legs, examining the minute details of the flooring.

He knows he has to do something with her body, that she’s lying there naked and dead after being horrifically abused.

With a heavy heart he carried the dead girl into the spare bedroom, laying her on the bed to wrap her in the bed sheets.  Leaving the corpse he ventures outside into the bright light and heat of the day.  The ruined body of Steve inert on the grass, the fat man further away.  He walks with purpose across the green, bending down to grasp Steve by an ankle, dragging him easily across the lawn to the fat man.  Without pause he leans down and takes a firm grip of the fat man’s ankle, the muscles in his upper body and legs straining as he drags the dead weight towards the van.

Paco dumps the corpses by the still open back doors and climbs in, looking for tools.  He finds cases of booze, whiskey and vodka and cartons of cigarettes.  A few items of snack food but no tools other than a tyre iron, which won’t do for the task he has in mind.

He heads over to the reception building, reaching his hand through the broken pane of glass, opening the door and checking inside.  A cabinet at the rear full of gardening tools, he nods in satisfaction grabbing a shovel and heading back outside.

Staring at the central grass area he thinks of where to dig.  Not here, not where she suffered so much.  That would be wrong.

Instead he heads inside the house and hoists the body gently over his shoulder, taking the shovel he heads backs down the lane, taking care to walk gently as though fearful of causing her discomfort.

Away from the houses he finds a grassed meadow bordered by a row of trees to one side.  A peaceful and tranquil setting.  Paco opens the gate and walks deep into the field, gently resting the body on the ground before spitting on his hands and driving the edge of the shovel into the earth.

The hard packed soil yields slowly but years of solid training, eating well and taking care of himself have made him strong.  His mind now set and he digs, digs hard, relentless.  The sun beats down as he drives that shovel into the soil again and again.  Heaving the heavy loads to the side, the dog lying close by watching him silently.

Paco doesn’t rest or cease, sweat pours from his body.  The too tight top is too tight and is discarded quickly.  Shoulders bulging, arms straining he digs the grave.  Driving deep into the ground.  Standing back he looks at his work.  The sadness creeping up and threatening to pull him down into the open grave.

He lifts the body gently, carrying it over and down into the earth.  He lays Meredith to rest, smoothing the bed sheets over her body.  Finally, he tugs the sheet clear of her face.  Staring down at her young face.  Tears fall free now, she looks so young.  A whole life ahead of her.  He kisses his fingertips and gently touches them to her forehead before covering her face.  The act of covering in the dirty soil upsets him more than anything.  She was too good for this, too good to be left in an unmarked grave in an unknown field.  This shouldn’t happen this way.  He forces himself to lift that first shovel full of soil, pausing before gently laying it onto her body.  The soil crumbs tumbling across the sheet.

A sob breaks out from his throat, a dry sound that plunges him into despair.  He works harder, shovelling the earth quickly.  He doesn’t look down into the grave now, but drives the shovel back and forth, slowly covering the body and filling the grave.  He cries non-stop throughout the ordeal, berating himself, cursing himself, self-loathing bursting from every atom of his being.

Finally it’s done, a mound of bare earth marking the spot of the taken girl.  He stands back leaning on the shovel, his torso gleaming in sweat.  Eyes red and puffy.  One day this mound will seed with grass and flowers and become a feature of the meadow.  Maybe in the distant future a young girl will venture to sit with a young boy, hold hands and plan their lives, never knowing of the poor Meredith that lies beneath them.

‘Lord, I don’t know if you’re there, I guess not after what you’ve done to us,’ Paco speaks out, standing at the foot of the grave, the shovel held over one shoulder, ‘but this girl didn’t deserve what happened and I will never forgive you for that, but if you’re there…if you can hear me…please take this girl into your arms.  Accept her into heaven, if she’s sinned before she died then I’ll take those sins, you hear me? I’ll take the sins she committed, you send me to damnation a thousand times over and I’ll live in the eternal fires for ever more but you take her into heaven and end her pain.  He turns quickly, picking his top up and wiping the stinging sweat and tears from his eyes.

‘Come on dog.’

The dog follows him from the field.  Sensing his change.  The fear in him has completely gone now.  No longer a little one but a man.  They walk down the lane only stopping as he climbs into the back of the van, coming back out with a bottle of whiskey.  Throwing the shovel down he twists the lid off and holds the bottle to his lips.

‘For Meredith,’ he drinks deep, glugging the harsh liquid down his throat.  They cross the lawn, entering the house.  The door slamming shut behind them.

THIRTY-TWO

DAY ELEVEN

‘There it is,’ I shout out.  The drive did speed up for the last few miles.  Using the radio we checked the vans were okay, pushing just a bit faster to try and get back before dark.  Driving down the lane towards the housing estate and the end is in sight.  Spirits lift and the banter becomes louder, everyone chatting about the swim we’re going to have, getting cleaned up and putting fresh clothes on.

Dave does interject and reminds the younger ones of their responsibility to cleaning their weapons and sorting their kit out first, and then goes on to mention about being back in the fort in front of others.  Clarence and I smile like old timers at the mini lecture he gives which, to be fair, they listen to readily enough and promise to get everything sorted.

‘Fo…M…Wie….’ Our radios crackle with static and a broken transmission.

‘This is Howie, you’re not coming through, say again.’

‘Fort to Mr Howie, is that you?’

‘Howie to the fort, yeah this is me, who’s that?’

‘Howie its Ted, Chris has gone out on an urgent search, we need you straight back here.’

‘We’re on our way into the estate now Ted, what’s happened?’

‘I’ll explain when you get here but be ready to go straight back out.’

‘Yeah okay mate, just a few minutes.’

‘What was that about Mr Howie?’ Blowers calls out.

‘No idea mate sounds bad though.’

‘Speed up boss, the convoy’ll be safe enough now,’ Clarence urges.  The light-hearted chat ends with the transmission, everyone leaning forward and staring out the front window.  All thoughts of a peaceful evening and a cooling swim gone from our minds as I accelerate through the estate into the flatlands.

‘Must be bad if they’ve sent Chris out,’ I say out loud.

‘Check your weapons and ammunition and make sure you’ve got plenty of water too,’ Dave calls down.

‘Doing it now,’ Blowers replies.  We speed down the access road, the night sky coming down faster now.  The fort already showing lights to the front.

As we pull up we see Ted, Sergeant Hopewell and Terri stood with others talking animatedly, they look focussed and intense.

‘Howie, where the hell have you been?’ Sergeant Hopewell snaps as we climb stiffly down from the vehicle.

‘We got the cash and carry, well all the stock from it anyway…there were survivors there too, they’re behind us coming in, what’s happened?’

‘How many?’ Terri cuts in quickly.

‘Er…just under sixty or so, plus vehicles and food.’

‘I’ll get some more people to sort them out Sarge,’ she says quickly, walking off towards the gate.

‘Howie, Chris has gone straight out into a town north of here, a family arrived earlier, the woman said there was a dog outside her house for a period of over twelve hours.  The dog was killing the things, but it didn’t turn.  It was there from the afternoon through to the following morning…’

‘It didn’t turn?’ I ask quickly, the others crowding round behind me, listening intently.

‘No, she saw it killing them.  A normal dog, normal eyes, wagging its bloody tail and drinking water…Doctor Roberts said…’

‘Yeah I know what he would have said, where is it? How long ago? What type of dog is it?’

‘An Alsatian, very very big.  Mostly black, a female dog she thinks.  It was here on this map.  We’ve got her to mark where her house was and the last place she saw it.’

‘How long ago?’ Clarence repeats my question.

‘That’s the bad thing,’ she grimaces, ‘maybe a week or so, all she can remember is that it was only a few days after it started.’

‘German Shepherd,’ Dave says as we all turn to look at him, ‘the correct name is German Shepherd, Alsatian was a name they gave the breed during the war…’

‘Yeah cheers for that Dave,’ I nod at him before turning back to sergeant Hopewell, ‘so she definitely saw it killing them? Taking their blood into its mouth and it didn’t turn for twelve hours, is that right?’

‘That’s it, listen I know it’s been a long day but Chris is already out and we…’

‘We’re going straight back out, we need fuel, water and food, we’ll eat on the way.’

‘Leave that to me,’ Ted says curtly.

‘Debbie, is there a hose near the front? We’re desperate for a quick wash, we’ll be five minutes while Ted gets what we need.’

‘There’s one just inside the inner gate.’

‘That’ll do, Lani you’re the fastest, run to our rooms and get any clean tops you can find in there, Blowers I want you to speak to Ted and get us some torches and make sure he gets us spare batteries, the rest of you go inside and use the hose. Stay close to the front, we’ll be moving off as soon as we’ve got fuelled up.’  They head off without a word of argument, no moaning about being hot or tired, no mention of the swim we should have had.  Dave goes with Lani, the two of them sprinting easily into the fort.  Blowers grabs Ted who nods back at him and uses his radio to order torches and batteries to be brought down.

‘What did the doc say?’ Clarence asks the sergeant.

‘Just that we’ve got to find it and get it back here, he needs fuel for his equipment but the most important thing is the dog.’

‘Is it just that dog? That breed? All dogs? What more do we know?’ I ask.

‘We don’t know, but I can tell you that the people in the camp recall seeing cats and rats infected like the people but no dogs, not one account of a dog being turned or being infected.’

‘That doesn’t mean they’re immune,’ Clarence says.

‘We know that, Doc Roberts said the same thing.  He said he’d bet no one had seen an infected cow or chicken either but that doesn’t mean they’re immune to…the infection, virus…whatever it is seems to target humans, maybe because of the intelligence and ability to communicate, the dominant species of the planet or the species that seems to live the longest…anyway it seems that other than the rats no other species have been noted as having turned.  Now this dog could be many things, it could be a delayed reaction and it could have turned the minute she left it, or it could be the breed of dog, or it could be all dogs.  We simply don’t know but we can’t take that chance.  If there is an animal out there that holds something in its blood that prevents the virus from taking it over…’

‘Then we need it here,’ I finish her sentence for her, my mind buzzing with the possibilities this brings.  It might be nothing, just a false lead or something a terrified woman recalls wrong, but they’re right, if there is one slim minute chance of it being immune we have to find it.

‘Won’t we need a vet?’ Clarence asks.

‘We’ve got one, a student vet anyway, but she was in her last year and not far of qualifying.  She’s one of the female medics checking the new people over before they go in.  But they both said, the vet and Doc Roberts that the blood is the important thing, we need that dogs blood here for testing…and fuel so he can run the equipment.’

‘Shut everything non-essential down, people can cook on open fires if they need to, get these lights off…’

‘We’re doing it now,’ she replies haughtily, ‘the lights are from batteries and we’re draining all the spare vehicle tanks now.’

‘We’ve got more vehicles behind us, you can use them until we get more.  Right we’re going in for a wash, shout when the fuel is done.’  We walk off towards the gates.  Both of us stunned and silent from the news.

Breaching protocol we go straight through without being checked, heading inside to find the lads stood with their tops off and Cookey bent over holding the hose over the top of his head.  Buckets have been filled which they use to soak and rinse their tops before using the hose to rinse the sweat off their skin.

We join in, stripping off as Dave and Lani jog back clutching handfuls of fresh tops from our rooms.

The water is amazing, feeling icy cold and making me yelp in delight as it rushes out down my face and onto my chest.  I could stand here for hours, just letting the cold liquid spill over me.

We each take a turn, rushing through the wash and soaking our filthy clothes.  Lani goes last, smiling at me and holding a towel out.

‘Can you hold this up please, I’ve only got a bra on underneath,’ the lads all turn away thoughtfully as I spread it out, holding it up high.

She yelps too as the water hits her skin, ‘oh that’s so nice,’ she moans with pleasure.  Damn I wish I could peek behind this towel, just the image of her standing there in a bra with the water pouring down her dusky skin gets me going.  Shaking my head to re-focus she laughs and splashes noisily.

‘Don’t let it slip now,’ she whispers, ‘I’m just changing my bra.’

‘Stop it,’ I whisper back.

‘Oh it’s so nice to stand here with no top on, the water is lovely.’

‘Oh god,’ I mutter quietly.

‘Are you tempted to look?’ She whispers again.

‘Of course I bloody am,’ I reply.

‘You’re very restrained.’

‘I won’t be if you don’t hurry up.’

‘Get Clarence to hold it and come round here with me,’ she laughs.

‘I wish…but we’ve got to see a man about a dog.’

‘What man?’ she asks.

‘Eh? It’s a saying…you know when…’

‘I know I was joking.’

‘Oh, sorry.’

‘I’m done, you can relax,’ she steps out looking fresh as a daisy with a big grin.

‘Thank god for that,’ I smile back.

We join the others, Lani mentioning she needs to get something from the Saxon and heading back out.  We change into dry tops, checking our sizes and laughing when Clarence tries to put a much smaller one on.

‘Mr Howie, can I show you something please?’ Lani asks, stood to the side of the medical tent as the rest of us walk through towards the outside and Ted filling the Saxon from fuel cans.

‘Yeah what’s up?’ I reply, stepping over to the side.  She pauses for a second, watching the others file out the gates.  Nodding her head she motions me to follow her and steps further back into the shadows.

‘Lani? What’s up?’ I ask concerned, carefully stepping after her.  I feel a tight grip on my wrist as she pulls me in and presses her body against mine.

‘You’re so bloody slow,’ she mutters before pushing her lips against mine.  The world stops spinning, time and motion is frozen as our lips touch.  A stolen kiss behind a medical tent after an exhausting day and it’s the best moment of my life.  My hands reach up, cupping and framing her face.  Our lips press gently at first, savouring the touch.  My heart hammers in my chest, my legs feel shaky.  The pressure between us builds as we start to kiss harder, her arms going round my neck and pulling me in tightly.

Stars explode behind my eyes, blood thunders past my ears.  She feels so warm and soft, the natural scent of her hair filling my nose.  Her lips so soft and inviting.  Our tongues probe gently, she murmurs softly.  My arms reach round her body holding her close.

Of all the things I’ve done in my life, of all the amazing adventures Dave and I have had, the fights, the battles…this is by far the most beautiful of them all.

‘Wow,’ I breathe out as we separate, our faces holding inches apart and bodies still pressing together.

‘We could be in for a rough night,’ she whispers, ‘in case something happens…I didn’t want to wait any longer…’

‘I’m glad you didn’t, I wish I’d done this ages ago.’

‘Then why didn’t you?’ She asks gently.

‘Too shy I guess.’

‘Shy? You’re Mr Howie, the fearsome killer of the undead, the leader of the living army,’ she chuckles softly.

‘Yeah but…’ I don’t finish my sentence, instead pulling her in for another kiss.

‘Boss, we’re ready to go,’ Clarence yells from somewhere a million miles away in another dimension.  His words do bring us back to reality and we slink out into the pale light, our faces flushed and grinning.  Clarence stands there, a slow smile spreading across his broad face and gives a knowing wink.

‘Right behind you,’ I reply sheepishly.  He nods, leading us back to the Saxon which gives me just enough time to regain my composure.  The lads are stood round chatting, Lani heads straight for them as I climb into the driver’s seat and start the engine.

‘Did we get the water?’ I call out as I swing the front round to head back down the lane.

‘Yeah loads,’ Blowers replies passing me a bottle which is surprisingly cold to the touch, ‘they kept them in buckets of water in the shade,’ he explains.

‘Good, I think we’re going to need them.’

THIRTY-THREE

DAY ELEVEN

He emerges into the blinding light, hand held in front of his eyes trying to shield them from the glare.  The past few days have passed in a drunken blur.  Going through bottle after bottle of booze, only stopping to eat, piss, shit and sleep.

For every swig he took he toasted the memory of Meredith.  The sweet angel who suffered so badly because of his cowardice and lack of action.  The action of killing the fat man replays in his mind, the movements were so quick and instinctive.  The years of training for films had been worth it but now it’s too late.  She’s dead and in his mind, the whole episode is his fault.

The dog watched him slip into a blur of drunkenness, staying by his side throughout every drunken action.  As he sang sweet ballads, vomited from drinking too much, as he smashed round the house in violent outbursts of temper, as he sank into depression crying and sobbing, wailing pitifully as the image of her hanging from the door refuses to budge from his head.

She was glad of the rest and to stay inside away from the ever increasing heat, but still his sadness infected her.  There were times when he held her close, burying his crying eyes into the soft fur of her neck.  There were times when he talked to her at length, explaining about how movies were made and imparting salacious gossip about other famous actors.  And there were times he sat morose, silent and brooding, staring off into the middle distance, the only movement was his arm lifting the bottle to his lips.

On the eleventh day he ran out of booze.  With the food all gone he realised what a sorry state he was in.  The depths of his grief had absorbed him completely.  Removed him from the present.

Now, standing in the sunlight, his jaw covered in thick dark bristles, hooded eyes almost as red and bloodshot as the monsters he realises they need to leave this place.  No food, no booze, nothing but water remains here.  If he had booze he would quite happily drink himself to death and wait his turn to die, remembering the promise he made to take the sins of the girl.

But the dog, she had saved him time and time again and she was hungry.  He had been a total douchebag already but he’d be damned if she would suffer anymore because of him.  They had to move out, find food and then head back here.

The minivan was still there, he headed towards it, grateful that he didn’t have to walk in this blistering head.  England was meant to be cold and damp with overcast skies.  This was like Hawaii or the Caribbean but without the ocean breeze.

Damn, the bodies were still there.  Stinking filthy corpses covered in flies and maggots crawling in the open wounds of the skinny guy.  He veered round them, covering his nose and mouth from the foul stench.  Standing at the driver’s door his shoulders sagged, the keys weren’t in the ignition.

‘Jesus guys, who’s gonna steal it out here?’ he asked the corpses at his feet.  He chose the skinny guy first, remembering he went back for the bottle.  Gingerly he plucks the material away from the bloated body, tapping his hand down the pockets and finding a bulge within.  Gagging from the stench invading his throat he reaches a hand inside, plucking the keys before darting away to retch on hands and knees.

An empty stomach produces only bitter, stinging bile.  He staggers to his feet, spitting the taste away and shaking his head at the misery of it all.

Slamming the rear doors closed he climbs into the driver’s seat and works out how to push the chair back.  The engine fires up first time as he familiarises himself with the stick shift in the middle.  The dog, already seated on the small double passenger seat with her head out the window looks excited to be moving.  Panting away and making small whining noises.

Pulling away he heads onto the lane, driving slowly past the field and staring at the stark mound of earth so obvious against the green grass.

The sadness plunges him back down as he faces forward.  Not a flicker of emotion shows on his face now, just the spreading numbness and a sick empty feeling from too much liquor and not enough food.

They drive in silence with the dog in a state of ecstasy at holding her head outside and feeling the rush of wind against her face.  Her bulk blocks the window entirely, barely keeping herself on the seat and he quickly learns to brake gently to save her slipping off.

Glancing at the fuel gauge he nods at the indicator showing just below half a tank.  Should be enough to get into the town, find food, booze and get back again.  After that? Who cares? There is no place else to go, nothing else to do but sit and wait for the inevitable.

THIRTY-FOUR

DAY ELEVEN

The infection lost the dog some days ago, after losing yet more valuable host bodies to its sharp teeth and powerful jaws.  Since then the world had moved on.  The survivors had already become fewer and were more cunning.  Hiding during the night and only moving in the day.

The battle of the fort had withered resources too and this area was already vastly thinned out.  As small pockets of survivors were found, the infection learnt to mass and attack fast and hard.  Many were wiped out, simply unable to cope with the overwhelming numbers and the increasing ferocity of the attacks.  Others, Like Maddox on his council estate, had brave people like Howie coming to their rescue.  Withering yet more of the hosts down and killing in quantities that were simply unacceptable.

The infection moved its hosts about slowly during the heat of the day.  Shuffling them towards targets, gathering numbers, collating intelligence and all the time learning and evolving.

On this, the eleventh day, the infection sends those hosts out.  Knowing there are more survivors holed up and just needing to sniff them out.  Following the scent of fear, shit and piss.

A horde gathers in a wide affluent street, waiting for greater numbers to arrive before they assault the house with the old lady inside who stubbornly refuses to come out and be taken.

They turn and watch as a red minivan drives by slowly, a bearded man staring at them from behind the wheel.  A big black dog growling and barking angrily out the window.

The dog.  The same dog that killed so many hosts.  It’s back in the town.  The collective intelligence buzzes with the update.  The dog must be killed before it starts the killing spree again.

Leaving just two hosts to terrorise the old lady, the infection sends the others after the van heading towards the town centre.

The van’s journey is tracked and picked up by many pairs of red, bloodshot eyes as it navigates the streets, driving round the corpses and abandoned vehicles.

The sun is strong and the infection knows if it moves the hosts too quickly they will weaken and die easier.  But it has also been learning and evolving and has a deadly surprise just waiting to be tried out.

THIRTY-FIVE

DAY ELEVEN

‘Dirty bastards,’ Paco growls almost as deeply as the dog at seeing the monsters gathered at the side of the road.  The dog reacts instantly, standing up and barking like crazy out the window.  For a second he feared she would jump out and go for them, and probably get her body trapped in the small window.  Instead she seemed content to voice her disapproval, telling them to fuck off.

They see more of the monsters here and there, single ones or couples shuffling along.  All of them turning to stare at the passing vehicle.  The dog giving voice to each and every one of them.

With the change caused from the death of Meredith, they don’t seem that scary now.  Whereas before he would have been flooring the gas pedal and driving off desperate to avoid them, now he slows down.  Staring hard at their mutilated bodies, the gross decaying colour of their skin and the insects buzzing round them.  They’re not monsters.  They’re just dirty infected mother fuckers who ultimately caused the death of Meredith.  Sure, he played a part in the final act by failing to act fast enough but it was them that made it happen.  If they hadn’t have done this she would have been safe at home with her folks, dating boys, doing homework and dreaming of a bright future.

After several minutes of carefully driving through the residential streets he snaps at seeing a small horde gathered by a junction.  Bringing the minivan to a gradual stop he stares out the window as they start shuffling towards them.

He opens the door and climbs out, walking steadily towards them.  Daring them to run at him, wanting them to run at him.  His hands open and close into tight fists, anger surges through his mind.  Adrenalin pumping his heart and making him breathe faster.

Again he fails to act fast enough as the dog pounds past his legs, leaping at the first one and dragging it down to the ground by its throat.  Her actions spur him on, driving his legs as he sprints hard at them.  His face a picture of pure seething hatred.

She’s already taking the second one down as Paco reaches the horde.  His strong hands grabbing the shoulders and pulling the thing into him.  It bucks and writhes as Paco slams his foot down onto its knee joint at the same time as squeezing hard with his arms and twisting to the side.  The neck breaks and he drops the body, deftly moving back as another one lunges at him with teeth bared.  It’s taken down by the dog, her teeth savaging at the neck, bright red blood spraying out.

The last one moves in, but goes for the dog instead of Paco.  A fact he doesn’t register due to the bloodlust.  He moves in, drawing his arm back and slamming his fist into the side of the creatures head.  Follow through, he remembers the constant mantra from his trainer, follow through…he does it now, sending the thing spinning off to land in a crumpled heap.  Paco is on it before the thing has a chance to rise.  Slamming his foot down on the head, pulverising and smashing the skull to bits.

‘Fuck you,’ he spits down angrily, stepping back and turning to view the bodies they took down.

‘Fuck you, fuck all o’ya, you want me? YOU WANT ME?’ He bellows into the air, ‘YOU WANT ME…THEN COME GET ME…’

He walks off towards the van, not looking back at the death he’s caused.  Revelling in the strength of his arms and the new found ability he’s found to fight back and kill.

Paco stretches one heavy arm across the side of the dog, pushing her into the back of the seat as he drives at the bodies.  The small wheels bouncing over the squishy remains of the things and bouncing down the other side.  Releasing the dog he breathes out noisily, gripping the steering wheel with such force that anymore pressure would see it pulled off in his hands.

In the next street he spots a lone monster shuffling along with a broken arm, the bone sticking out of the elbow joint.  The thing looks unimpeded from the injury and soon switches its lolling gaze to Paco.  He stops the van , stepping out and holding the door open for the dog to bound over, rip the thing to shreds, growl at the corpse and run back.

‘Good girl,’ Paco rubs her back, once more behind the wheel and continuing their journey.  Every undead they see is taken down.  The dog doing most of the work but Paco alighting every now and then to help, snapping necks with his powerful arms.

Before long they’ve left a trail of broken bodies behind them and for every death served by his hands he offers a prayer to Meredith.

They reach the town centre and head along the main road, examining the smashed in shop fronts.  Bodies everywhere, old and decaying.  Rancid from being out in the sun for so long.  The stench in the air is thick with death and decay.

Every shop looks empty and completely destroyed, glass scattering the ground or hanging down in sharp deadly looking shards.  Doors ripped off hinges, car’s embedded in entrance ways, someone has even taken a digger to a cashpoint, ripping it from the wall but leaving it several metres away on the ground, the digger abandoned further along with dried blood stains on the glass of the drivers cab.

In the centre of town he parks the minivan next to a pedestrian precinct, seeing more shops further up but prevented from driving in by traffic posts.  They jump down, leaving the van in situ but pocketing the keys.

‘We’ll try here, if no good we go for the houses,’ Paco mutters to the dog.  She seems nonplussed, just glad to be out of the house and killing the things again.  He even joined in this time which just served to strengthen the pack instinct and bond between them.

THIRTY-SIX

More hosts are taken by the dog, this time it works with an adult male.  The one they had tracked before who left the scent of fear everywhere he went.  He, like many others, has changed.  Adapted to the new way of life and become harder, tougher.  Killing the host bodies with his bare hands and roaring a challenge to the infection.

It tracks their progress as they move through the quiet streets and into the town centre.  The infection doesn’t know if their killing spree is intended to last or if they’re just killing the ones they can see.  What it does know is it cannot take the risk of that dog dominating this area again.

Host bodies from every street, every house and every corner are given one simple instruction;  move towards the town centre.

Chemicals are released into the systems, giving them just a slight increase in energy.  The infection has learnt that the chemical they call Serotonin is produced in the brain and gives the host a feeling of well-being, an ability to rationalise and think straight.  The infection has also learnt other chemicals such as Testosterone and Adrenalin.  These chemicals are produced in tiny quantities and give the humans the senses and emotions, the desires and reactions they need.  Mixed together, along with a perfect recipe of hormones and many other chemicals they produce the perfect being.

The infection has practised with the hosts, released Serotonin in large quantities.  Watching and learning as the host body ceased the desire to feast and simply remained still or sank to the floor in a pleasurable heap of drool.

Testosterone was interesting.  It sent the hosts wild with energy, giving them great strength and speed but too much made them so violent they turned on each other and more than that saw them turn on themselves.  Tearing their own flesh apart to devour the meat held on their own limbs.

Adrenalin was used.  It produced faster reflexes, heightened senses, made them stronger and faster, not the same as the Testosterone.  Subtler and far more controllable.  But the effects were fast acting and left the bodies shaky and exhausted.  Pumping adrenalin continually simply caused the body to shut down unable to take it.

But all of these mixed in perfect quantities.  A strong mix of Testosterone for the strength and speed, a small dose of Serotonin to enable the host to feel good about what it was doing, using it as a reward, and calculated releases of Adrenalin and it had good results.

This was a time to make use of those results.  It sent the hosts towards the town.  Willing to practise with these hosts and experiment with the mixtures.  There were far bigger targets to go after, but the infection knew it had to evolve.  And in order to evolve it must practise.

This is the perfect time.

THIRTY-SEVEN

DAY ELEVEN

‘What a fucking dump,’ Paco stares round at the measly collection of shops in the precinct.  Adult fashion stores displaying styles that went out in LA like three seasons ago.  He shrugs, no longer a part of that community.  No longer a part of any community.  Just him and the dog, booze, monsters and death.

‘Bring it on,’ he voices his thoughts.  Longing for the blackness to swallow him up. Suicide had been in his mind since he buried the girl.  The only thing that stopped him was abandoning the dog who had fought so hard to save him and Meredith.

Ah, Meredith.  That sweet youthful face flashes through his mind again.  The image flitting to the view of her pale thighs and the crimson blood upon them.

‘Come on,’ he instructs the dog after watching her take a crap next to a bench.  He strolls past the windows, staring in at the smashed displays and the torn up posters.  For the first time in days he becomes aware of his own self.  Of the stench radiating from his body and clothes.

The self-loathing hits hard again, the state he’s let himself get into.  He heads into the closest clothes shop.  The windows and doors smashed in but only half the stock taken.  Clothing and accessories litter the floor, shelving pulled down.  Dried blood smeared across the white tiled floor.

He heads to the men’s section.  Rooting through tops and trousers, finding a pair of blue denim jeans and a black t shirt along with underwear and socks.

Looking round for the changing room he shrugs and starts stripping off on the shop floor.  Dumping his filthy clothes on the floor he goes to start dressing, realising most of the smell is coming from him, from his armpits, groin and backside.

‘You coulda told me,’ he tells the dog.  Searching round he finds the rear door marked STAFF ONLY and heads through.  More looting through here, boxes and hanging rails scattered about. He ignores the lot, heading through the stock room to the staff room and finding a toilet with a wash basin.

Soap from a plastic dispenser and cold water do the job well enough.  He washes thoroughly, using paper towels to rub at the filthy parts of his body.  Methodical, uncaring and for the first time in his adult life he doesn’t even register the mirror above the sink.  Only when he’s finished washing, using the towels to dry and dressing in his new clothes does his own movements catch his eye.  Shrugging the black t-shirt on he glances at himself, almost recoiling in horror at the sight.  Thick stubbly beard with flecks of grey, his hair shaggy and unkempt.  His permanent tan faded, he looks pale and drawn. His eyes red, puffy and swollen.  When was the last time he brushed his teeth or used mouthwash?  Had a shave or used moisturiser?

Meredith will never brush her teeth again, she’ll never use mouthwash or wash her hair.  Why? He asks his reflection.  I’ll tell you why Paco, cos you failed.  You cowered and hid, you killed Lucy and Meredith.  He lashes out, punching the mirror and shattering it into thousands of glittering pieces that fall tinkling to the ground.

Back out in the street he spots a pharmacy up ahead and heads towards it.  This has been very well looted, the entire stock of medicines from the back taken.  He doesn’t need medicine.  He doesn’t deserve it.  If he gets ill now, he dies.  Simple.  Deserved.

Instead he finds a sealed toothbrush in a packet, and a tube of toothpaste from a scattered display now on the floor.  Not for the act of hygiene, just to rid himself of the foul taste he is now acutely aware of.

Once more he heads to the rear, finding a sink in a staff room and brushing his teeth thoroughly.  Relishing the minty taste and then instantly feeling guilty for feeling something that could be taken as pleasure.

He finds mouthwash, ripping the plastic film from the lid and filling his mouth as he walks round the shelves, sloshing the liquid into his cheeks and sucking it back into his mouth.  His eyes fall on a hanging unit full of disposable razors.  The cheap kind.  He spits the mouthwash onto the floor, coating his own boots and not caring one dot.

‘The beards gotta go,’ he says, picking a razor from the display.  Vanity screams at him.  His old ways coming back, make yourself look pretty and for what? So you can hide and cower but still look good.  He looks down at his arms, realising that he chose a tight fitting top without even thinking about it.  His arm muscles bulge in the sleeves.

Even here, in this damned place he still looks good.  His frame hardly showing the excesses of the last few days.  A lifetime of physical devotion paying off.  He throws the razor down and stalks out of the shop furious at himself.

The dog whines nearby.  She can sense the coming darkness.  Paco, not wearing a watch and having no means by which to tell the time failed to register the lateness of the day when he set out.  Now, in the town centre, stomping about and avoiding seeing his own reflection in the bits of glass that remain in the shop frames he misinterprets the dogs whine.  Cursing for letting her go thirsty in such high heat.

‘Come on,’ he motions to the dog, heading down the row of shop fronts and staring in, looking for anywhere that holds food or water.

These are too looted, too fucked up.  There will be nothing of value left, and by value he means food and water.  He doesn’t want to go into the houses again.  He doesn’t want to see the remnants of the lives left behind.  Humanity isn’t for him anymore.

Sighing he turns back to the van, knowing the dog needs food so he must go into the houses to find it.  He stops and stares up, looking at the windows above the shops.  Apartments must be up there.  He looks down and spots plain front doors situated between the shop fronts.  They must lead into the apartments or the flats as the English call them.  Why flats? They’re not flat and have nothing to do with being flat.  Stupid country.  Stupid words.

‘I say, open the bonnet and the boot,’ he says to the dog in a mock posh English accent, ‘we’re jolly well going into the flats old boy.’  He makes his way to the nearest private door, a wooden thing with several bells in a line next to the frame.  Each one marked with a number.

Nodding he tries the door.  Locked.  He steps back and throws a well-aimed kick at the lock.  It takes several attempts but the door yields, giving him access to a narrow corridor and set of stairs.

‘Tally ho,’ he growls, not bothering with the accent this time.  This time, instead of waiting for the dog to enter first, Paco walks straight through.  Climbing the stairs and reaching the first two doors.  Another set of stairs leading off to the next floor.  So far no blood or stains showing signs of the things.

He tries the doors, twisting the handles down and finding them both locked.  The first kick drives his foot through the cheap ply board, almost jamming his ankle and making him fall.  He wrenches the foot back and kicks again, aiming towards the lock.  The even cheaper lock gives instantly, the door bursting to reveal a faded red carpet leading through a small hallway.  The dog pushes forward, running through the rooms with her nose down to the floor.  Paco doesn’t wait for her to finish but strolls through, opening doors until he finds the kitchen.  Filling a ceramic bowl with water for the dog he finds a matching cup joins in with satisfying his raging thirst.  They both drink deeply, the pressing heat is almost unbearable.  The apartment smells musty of stale air, no circulation, no movement, no windows open.

He roots through the cupboards, finding a lone box of breakfast cereal.  No tinned goods anywhere.  Only rotten food in the fridge and freezer which flood the room with a foul stench as soon as he pulls the doors open.

He mixes the cornflakes with water, walking through the rooms while crunching noisily.  The taste should be disgusting without milk but days of drinking and hardly touching food have left him ravenous.  The bowl is emptied within minutes and dumped on the side as he heads back out and forces his way into the next apartment.

Inside he finds more tinned goods, tomato soup, beans and tuna.  He splits the contents between two bowls, mixing the contents together.  One is put down for the dog, the other he attacks with a dessert spoon.  Shovelling the food into his mouth and again savouring the mix of tastes and textures.

The dog wolfs her serving down, licking the bowl clean and staring up at him with tomato sauce dripping from her muzzle.

‘Still hungry?’ Stupid question.  She’s a dog, they’re always hungry.  He empties more food into bowls, putting them down and filling his own stomach in the process.

‘No farting in the van,’ he says dully, she ignores him, snuffling the bowl across the smooth linoleum covered floor.

The second apartment serves to ease their hunger but doesn’t provide enough to take with them.  Paco, his face expressionless, his movements robotic , his mind dark, walks back out and heads up the stairs.  Two more doors on the next floor.  Both the same cheap ply board which are forced in easy enough.

Inside the first he finds an old rucksack in the bedroom and uses it to fill with tins and snack food from the cupboards.  The sight of the child’s bedroom plummets his mood down even further.  The bright yellow walls and brightly coloured plastic toys strewn about the floor.  Posters of television and cartoon characters on the walls.  A height chart marked with pen with the date it was done written to the side.  He turns away quickly.  This is exactly why he didn’t want to come into the houses.  The reminder of the lives lost, the suffering, the depravation.  Everything swirls and comes back to Meredith.

He knows his lack of action also led to the death of Lucy, but it was her idea to enter the houses.  She knew the risk and took it knowing the consequences.  It doesn’t make it easier to deal with but different.  Meredith was tied and bound, tortured then raped.   She was also young, where-as Lucy was older and clearly very confident.

The dog, learning the behaviour of the man when he enters the kitchens whines impatiently for another bowl of food.  Paco obliges, finding a big mixing bowl and filling it with fish, sweet corn and, knowing he’ll regret it later, more baked beans.

‘The Brits love their beans,’ he comments to the dog, ‘I guess that’s why they find farting so funny.’

In the next apartment, Paco fills the bag with yet more food.  Doing a quick tour of the rooms he finds a liquor cabinet full of bottles, shoving these into the bag too which rapidly gets filled up.  He pulls the bag onto his bag, adjusting the straps for his big shoulders.  Finding a ladies gym back he carries on scavenging food and alcohol before heading out and climbing to the top floor.

One door this time.  Stronger and sturdier than the others with far less space on the landing to get a good kick in.  He dumps the bags and bracing himself with the handrail he launches kick after kick at the door.  The loud bangs reverberating throughout the building, vibrating through the walls and drifting easily out into the still silent air of the town centre.

The door finally gives as Paco switches to his shoulder, ramming his body weight against the door to force the bolts and lock.  A closed chain brings him to a sudden stop; realising the door was locked from within.  Top floor so there can’t be any other ways out.

‘Hey?’ He calls out.  No response.  He shoves the door harder, the dog squeezing through and running ahead.  He follows in, his nose recognising the aroma instantly.  Strong and pungent, especially in the warm stale air.

That explains why the door was so hard to force open.  He walks through, carefully checking in the rooms.

‘Oh hey, sorry about your door…’ Paco apologises on the seeing the sleeping form on the bed.  He walks in, his eyes adjusting to the gloom caused by the blackout curtains fixed to the frame.

‘Oh…’ Paco sighs at seeing the pale skin and open lifeless eyes.  The body of a young male, maybe twenty years old, skinny guy with a wispy beard and wearing hippie clothes.   A burnt out rolled cigarette still clasped between his fingers.

He backs out of the room, following the smell down the hallway to a closed door at the end.  He pushes it open and smiles sadly at the sight of the bushy cannabis plants sat under inert grow lights.  The pungent aroma now much stronger and he’s suddenly transported through time to his college days, smoking weed in the parking lot of the drama school.

A pile of money sits on a wooden table at the side of the room.  A big wedge of twenty pound notes.

‘Business was good,’ he mutters, ‘he must have munchies, all pot heads have munchies.’ He turns back to find the kitchen.  Coming up trumps with large multi-bags of potato chips.  No wait, what do the English call them? Crisps, yeah that’s it.

Cookies, biscuits, chocolate bars, bags of popcorn and plastic tubs of Pot Noodles.

‘Pringles,’ Paco remarks, finally recognising one of the food stuffs.  He pops the cap and pulls the silver foil back, sniffing deeply at the smell of the cheesy contents before prising one out.  He stares at the thin single potato chip.  The chip is gone with one munch.  He leans against the counter, fingering the contents out, giving some to the dog sat next to him staring up hopefully.

‘Once you pop, you just can’t stop,’ Paco tells her as she crunches away noisily.  They finish the tube off and drink more water.

Now with three bags loaded with food and booze they traipse down the stairs, his heavy boots clumping on the wooden steps.  They pass the floors in silence, the dog running ahead and pausing for him at each turn.

‘Holy shit,’ Paco staggers at the wall of heat that hits him as he walks out into the scorching evening.  They walk slowly back towards the van.  Paco looks about, checking the devastation and frowning at seeing one shop with an undamaged window, the door still intact.  He stops walking and peers at the shop front, finally recognising the Interflora sign on the door.  Nobody wants to loot a florist.  Within two steps his mind has made the connection between florists, flowers, weddings and funerals then Meredith.  She deserves something to mark her grave.

This heat would have killed all the flowers but something might remain.  He wanders over, looking through the window.  Everything inside is wilted and dead.  Dried out flowers hanging listlessly from vases.  Balloons sagging on counter tops.  Nothing here.

The dog growls, her ears pricking up as she stares out of the precinct towards the van.  Paco looks over, seeing nothing there but trusting the dog’s instincts.  He starts back to the van, his walking quicker now.

As they emerge from the precinct onto the main road he sees what the dog was growling at.  A thick horde of the monsters on both sides.  The two armies stand there, eyes locked on him and the dog.  He stands still holding the bags, looking left and right.  The road is blocked on both sides.  He glances up, realising how close they are to nightfall.

He examines the front ranks of them.  They stand there unmoving apart from a gentle sway back and forth.  This is still daytime, they should be shuffling, slow and ungainly.  Instead they stand normal, heads up.  Not moving, not shuffling, not running, just standing there staring at him.

The dog moves out into the middle of the road, her hair standing on end, head low and a deep throaty growl coming from her as she flits her gaze left and right.

Paco calmly walks to the back of the van and dumps the bags inside before slamming the doors closed.

‘Well here it is,’ he says quietly, standing just behind the dog and equally flicking his gaze between the two solid fronts.  Amazed at how many there are.  All sizes and shapes, all ages, children, young, adults and the elderly all stood there watching him.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickle at the sight of them and the silence that hangs expectantly in the air.

‘Say…I don’t think they want me,’ Paco adds, ‘I think they’re a bit pissed at you dog.’ The realisation makes him laugh.  Throwing his head back with a hearty laugh.  His ego made him believe they wanted him and only him.  It was the dog! She must have killed so many they came after her.  He thinks back to the house, the last night they stayed in the town.  Horrified at the memory of hiding in the bedroom and leaving to fend off so many of the things alone.

Well this time he’s sticking by her.  Right by her side no matter what happens.  If that leads to death then so be it.  He can pay the debt for Meredith’s soul.

The stand-off continues.  Two hordes facing off against one man and one dog.  Shadows lengthen as the sun begins its final descent to the horizon.  The only sound comes from the dog, her constant growling.  Nothing else moves.  No other noise.  Paco stares at both sides, moving his head to take them in and expecting them to charge any second.

The sun drops out of sight, bringing much relieved light to another part of the world but here, for this day, its work is done.  Night follows day.  Nothing can be done to change that.  And night falls here.

As one, the hordes crane their heads up and howl screaming into the night air.  The sound is deafening.  Paco’s blood runs cold at the noise.  The sheer synchronised volume of it.  The feral wild sound fills the street, bouncing off the high building fronts, echoing through the precinct.

The dog ceases growling.  A primal instinct kicks in as he lifts her head, stretching her long neck up.  She joins the howling.  Giving her voice to the cacophony of noise.  Paco feels a sudden strong sense of pride at the dog.  She shows no fear at them.  But instead howls back with her sweet voice howling perfectly into the night.

The hordes cease as one.  Her howl continues.  A lone voice of a wolf calling through the forest.  Pitch perfect she carries on, expending her breath as the noise eases off gradually.

The hordes charge.  One second they’re stood there staring.  The next second and they’re moving and moving fast.

‘Fuck this,’ Paco shouts, ‘come on dog.’ They turn away, running back towards the precinct.  A sudden urge to live, to try and protect the dog floods through Paco.  Not a fear of being taken by them, more a desire to give her the best chance possible.  Re-pay the debt.  All of the debts.

They sprint easily through the bollards, heading towards the enclosed shopping area.  Paco selects a shop at the far end, a big clothes store that must have a delivery door at the back.

They charge in, Paco throwing rails and mannequins behind him in a vain attempt to slow them down.  He slams through the rear door, heading down the bare walled corridor and the wooden notice board filled with motivational sales messages and a Health and Safety at work poster.

Reaching the double doors at the back, Paco slams the bar down, wrenching the doors open as he hears the first of the monsters coming through the broken windows of the shop floor behind him.

They sprint off into the darkness.  Not knowing the direction to take or what route to follow, just knowing they need to make distance as fast as possible.

THIRTY-EIGHT

DAY ELEVEN

‘Not far, just stay on this road,’ Clarence says, shining his torch onto the map book spread open on his lap.

‘Okay, how the hell are we going to find Chris?’ I ask him.

‘We can use the radios when we get into the town, it doesn’t look too big.’

‘Ted said he’s in a four wheel drive vehicle, he’s got two others with him, both ex-army,’ Blowers shouts down.

‘Right, so we’ve got two vehicles with about a dozen people to find a black dog at night in a town with no street lights working…shouldn’t be too hard,’ I muse for the benefit of everyone.

‘At least we’re not going to attack a giant horde of zombies this time,’ Cookey shouts.

‘Ahhh Cookey! You’ve said it now,’ Nick replies.

‘Ha sorry,’ Cookey laughs.

Despite the long day and incredible heat, our spirits are high from the news about the dog and the implications this has.  That maybe this thing can be beaten.  Just the faintest glimmer of hope, but that’s all we need.

‘Turn off here,’ Clarence points to the junction ahead, indicating me to take the left side.  The powerful headlights sweep across the dark hedgerows and fields.  Slowly they give way to cottages, then houses and within a few minutes were in the town proper.  Driving along residential streets with dark houses on both sides.  No lights other than the headlights of the vehicle.

‘Someone keep trying the radio,’ I shout back.  Dave picks it up, transmitting for Chris every few seconds.  Static and a crackled transmission finally comes back.  We keep going, trying to figure out which way to go to improve the signal.

‘Dave to Chris, come in over.’

‘Chris to Dave can you hear me?’

‘Dave to Chris, loud and clear now, suggest you stop moving in case the signal goes.’

‘Chris to Dave, roger that we are stationary.’

‘Likewise Chris, what is your current location?’

‘Chris to Dave, we missed the first turning and went too far north, we’ve turned round and just entered the town from the north.  We’re in, hang on….we’re in Sycamore Street over.’

‘He said they’re in Sycamore Street,’ Dave relays to Clarence.

‘Yeah I heard it…on the radio…that I’m holding in my hand,’ Clarence replies pointedly. ‘Clarence to Chris.’

‘Go ahead Clarence.’

‘I’ve got you on Sycamore Street, stay there, we’ll come to you.’

‘Roger that, remaining here out.’

Clarence directs me through the streets until we reach the right one and see a four wheel drive parked up in the middle of the road with the lights off.  We head over, stopping nearby and I kill the lights and engine so we can talk quietly without attracting too much attention.

We jump down, armed up and ready.  Dave directs the lads to fan out into a circle facing outwards while Clarence and I head over to Chris.

‘You made good time,’ he says with a quick handshake.

‘Bloody right we did,’ I reply.

‘Chris, what’s your search pattern?’

‘Hello Dave, nice to see you too, we haven’t established one yet but we have seen shit loads of bodies in the streets.’

‘Really?’ I ask.

‘Yeah, first residential street we went into, bodies everywhere.  Most of them had their throats ripped out, but messy…not with a knife or blade.’

‘That’s a good sign.’

‘Yeah but they’re also old.  Been there for days at least.  Couldn’t see any fresh corpses.’

‘Okay…er what do we do if we see it?’

‘Take it back to the fort,’ Chris replies with a puzzled expression.

‘What if it doesn’t want to go?’ I ask, ‘if it’s big enough to kill so many of them…we can’t exactly shoot it can we?’

‘Good point, my best answer? Worry about it when it happens, we’ve got to find the thing first.’

‘Chris, looking on the map the town centre is…believe it or not,’ he grins up, ‘in the centre of the town…we should head there first and work out.’

‘Mr Howie,’ Tom calls out.

‘Yes mate.’

‘I’m sure the army do the same thing but I was search-trained with the police.  Clarence is right, we should start in the middle and work out in a radius, marking the streets off as we go.  The biggest problem is that its night so unless the dog has reverted to wild behaviour it will probably be holed up somewhere asleep…if it’s still here.’

‘Alright, we do street by street for now, if that doesn’t work then in the best words of the army we worry about the rest later.’

‘There’s more likely to be contact in the town centre,’ Clarence suggests.

‘Is that a good thing or not? Is the sound likely to draw the dog out or make it run away?’ I ask everyone.

‘Run away probably, they have to train dogs not to run from gunfire, dogs naturally don’t like loud noises, ever done the vacuuming near one?’ Chris answers.

‘Yeah fair one, right…town centre, see you there?’

‘Roger that,’ Chris replies.  We head back to our vehicles.

‘We’ll take the lead Chris,’ Clarence shouts out.  We have to wait for the four wheel drive to reverse back and let us get through, then we wait again while it executes a fifteen point turn using the narrowest part of the road.  Clarence tutting and shaking his head at the delay.

‘Chris was always a shit driver, I bet he’s going nuts right now fucking it up in front of us,’ he chuckles.

We get going, guided by Clarence through the street towards the centre.  Nick takes the GPMG with Dave sat on the top holding a powerful searchlight powered by a cable running back into an auxiliary plug in the back of the Saxon.  The beam of light sweeps across the road in front of us every few seconds as Dave makes a full methodical rotation.  Blowers opens the rear doors, everyone else crammed towards the rear scanning the houses and sides as we go by.

‘BODIES AHEAD,’ Dave shouts down, his comments relayed by Nick.  The beam of light picks up several corpses in the street.

‘We’re gonna have a look at them, Nick stay on the GPMG, everyone else fan out,’ I bring the vehicle to a stop.  Blowers leads the lads from the back doors, fanning out holding torches in one hand and staring out to the sides and front.

‘They’re fresh,’ Clarence says, dropping down and shining his torch into the gaping ragged hole of a neck wound.  Several others have the same throat wounds.

‘You got something?’ Chris walks up, his men joining ours in facing out to form a guard.

‘These the same as you saw before?’ I ask him.

‘Yep, exactly the same but these are fresh.  Maybe a few hours at most.’

‘Look at these two, broken necks but no wounds,’ Clarence lifts the head of an undead, twisting it to show the lack of resistance from the spinal column.

‘A dog couldn’t do that, there must be someone with it, how hard is it to do that?’

‘What break a neck like that? If you do it exactly right it’s not that difficult but you have to remember these things would have been fighting back and squirming….keeping hold of an adult body and doing it requires strength.’

‘So we’re looking for a big bastard and a dog then?’

‘Not necessarily, Dave could do this easy enough, so could Lani if they knew exactly what they were doing,’ Clarence explains.

‘The woman said the dog was going for the throat nearly every time, and those other bodies look old enough to be the right time…and these are fresh and have the same wounds, at least we can assume the dog is still here,’ Chris adds, standing up and looking about.  We all do, as if the dog will come bounding over wagging its tail with a ball in its mouth.

A few minutes later and we’re driving on, pulling out of a side road into the town centre and looking at the same level of destruction as every other town centre we’ve seen so far.

‘CONTACT,’ Dave shouts down, ‘DEAD AHEAD.’

Clarence and I both lean forward, staring out the window but seeing nothing moving.

‘Where?’ Clarence shouts.

‘It was moving away to the left,’ Dave replies.

‘Moving away? Was it a person then?’ I ask.

‘Not sure, I don’t think so, it ran like one of the things,’ Dave shouts.

‘They don’t run away,’ Clarence mutters as I speed up, heading down the main road.

‘Stop there, next to that red van,’ Dave shouts, ‘it went towards those shops.’

‘Clarence, let Chris know what we’ve got, we’ll go after it and leave him here with the Saxon in case we lose it, everyone else get ready to run.’ I shout out.

‘Chasing zombies…great,’ Nick groans.

Clarence relays the message as we jump down, quickly shrugging our rucksacks on and taking our assault rifles, we de-camp the Saxon and follow Dave as he leads us into a precinct area.  His torch beam holding steady despite his running.

‘Which way Dave?’ I shout ahead.

‘Wait,’ Dave holds his hand up in a fist.  We come to a halt as he scans the ground, moving from shop front to shop front.’

‘Fresh dog shit here,’ Tom shouts, holding his torch on a brown pile of dog mess.

‘How do you know it’s fresh?’ Cookey asks.

‘It looks fresh,’ Tom replies.

‘Touch it, see if it’s still warm,’ Cookey urges.

‘Okay,’ Tom bends down, his hand extending towards the pile of shit.

‘Tom I was joking,’ Cookey yells as Tom looks up grinning, ‘twat.’

‘Yeah like I was gonna stick my finger in it.’

‘Blowers would, he’d stick something else in it,’ Cookey laughs.

‘Through here,’ Dave yells.  We jog over as Dave shows us the fresh looking damage through a clothes shop.

‘Fresh blood,’ Dave shines his torch on the ground at smeared and still glistening blood stains.

‘Whoever it was cut their feet on the glass,’ he continues, ‘no shoes…must be the things.’

‘Why was it running away?’ Clarence asks, shining his torch about at the debris strewn about the shop floor.

‘Not it, them,’ Dave replies, ‘a lot went through here, different blood marks across a wide aisle.’

‘And it was running?’ I ask him.

‘It was Mr Howie.’

‘Maybe chasing something then? Otherwise it would come for us, come on.’ I take the lead with Dave, shining our torches and following the blood trails through the rear store rooms to the open back doors.

‘Chris to Howie.’

‘Yeah go ahead mate.’

‘This van is covered in dog hair on the seat, there’s fresh supplies in the back too.’

‘Okay mate, we’re chasing zombies…hang on there.’

‘CONTACT,’ Dave drops to a kneeling position, aiming down the road.  He takes a single shot as the rest of us bundle out the doors, looking up to see a body dropping down.  We jog up the road to the body.  An adult male undead lying in a pool of blood with half its head blown off.

‘Feet aren’t cut,’ I shine my torch down.  The undead is wearing shoes.

‘So he’s chasing something that’s chasing something else…that might be our dog?’ Clarence asks, ‘is that about right?’

‘Just about mate,’ we take off.  Following the road as Dave picks out spots of blood here and there, some of it still glistening and wet looking.

‘This is a weird fucking day,’ Cookey mutters.

‘Aren’t they all?’ Blowers replies.

THIRTY-NINE

The gunshot brings Paco to a sudden stop.  Staring back over the heads of the horde still chasing after them.  They don’t use guns do they? Shit, that wouldn’t be fair if one of them had a damn gun.

The dog barks at him, as though urging him to keep moving.  That’s how he interprets it anyway, she could have just been barking at the things coming after them.  It’s enough to get him moving and they start running again.

The long easy strides easily outstripping the monsters who run too jerkily to make gains on the distance.  The only problem is the pace, Paco might be fit and strong but it’s also incredibly hot and there is no way he can maintain this pace.  At some point he’ll have to slow down and rest, whereas the horde won’t.

All this runs through his mind as he runs.  He eases down to a jog, checking behind him every few seconds and making sure the distance is pretty much the same.  They gain very gradually but he knows he can hold this pace for a longer period, which buys them time.

They take side streets, veering off and taking lefts and right.  Paco considered taking to the back gardens, vaulting the fences and disappearing into the darkness but the dog couldn’t jump six foot fences, well maybe it could but not one after the other and then keep doing it until they lost the things.

No, for now they’ve no choice but to stick to the roads and maybe lead the things away from the town centre before they head back towards their van and drive off.  Yeah, that’s a good plan.  Lead these stupid dumbfucks in a big loop and take them back to the start.  A giggle escapes from his mouth at the thought of the stupid monsters being run round the block in a long line, like something from a crappy B movie.

‘Easy as pie,’ he laughs, reaching a hand out to pat the dog’s head.

FORTY

It held the hosts in the road.  Content to watch the man and dog.  For a few minutes it looked like they were going to charge and attack the hosts, which would have ended the matter easily.

For every second they paused, the infection gathered numbers.  Far fewer than it wanted but then it had lost so many hosts to the constant battles.

Of the town’s population of tens of thousands, the infection had taken over half of them just in this area.  Most of those had been lost at the fort, but these remained.  And the more survivors it took out the greater the numbers grew.

The infection held them steady, watching the man and dog, the sun dropped and the infection released some of the chemicals.  Making the hosts faster and stronger.  The charge started.  The prey ran off.  The infection took off after them.

Now, as it pushed the hosts through the quiet streets it waited, waited for the heat and the distance to tire the man out.  At that point it would release the chemicals it had chosen for tonight’s use.

FORTY-ONE

‘I can smell them,’ Dave shouts from ahead of us. Him and Lani out front and scanning the ground as they lead us through the streets.

‘Glad he can, I can only smell Nick’s arse,’ Cookey mutters.

‘Wasn’t me,’ Nick replies.

‘It was me, sorry, all this jiggling about made me fart,’ Tom says.

‘You sure you haven’t shit yourself Tom?’ Nick spits at the smell.

‘Might have done mate, wanna check for me?’

‘Ask Blowers, that’s his bag,’ Cookey quips.

‘Get fucked,’ Blowers swears.

We keep running, the sweat pouring down our faces and soaking our clothes.  Dave urges us to speed up.  We respond by lengthening our stride and trying to keep pace with him and Lani.  Clarence still surprises me, how someone so big can run so well.  His face looks strained and focussed at the same time.  Flushed with sweat literally pouring from his bald head but he doesn’t moan once, just stares ahead with complete concentration.

‘Lani, stay with the group, I’m running ahead to see how far they are,’ Dave shouts and moves off as Lani reluctantly drops back.  We watch as Dave opens up and strides ahead to the next junction, turning to make sure we’ve seen the route he’s taking before running out of view.

On reaching the junction we turn into the road, Dave in the distance still pulling away.  We chug along breathing hard but maintaining a steady pace.  Dave’s voice shouts quickly followed by shots ringing out.  We reach Dave standing over several bodies, his chest hardly heaving as he checks his magazine and slots it back in.

‘Big group chasing something,’ he explains, ‘I shouted and fired into them, they didn’t acknowledge me.’

‘They’re after something important then,’ I reply.

‘Darren came after us, and despite the personal connection I think he did it because we killed so many.  If that dog is killing so many then maybe it’s the same thing?’ Dave shrugs and looks back up the road.

‘Fresh dog shit, freshly killed bodies, it’s worth considering, come on let’s see if we can’t catch them up,’ we start off again.  Charging down the street moving faster now.

‘Dave, let Chris know what’s going on, you and Lani are the only ones able to run and speak,’ I gasp for breath myself at the speed were going.  Dave relays our information to Dave, the fit bastard hardly speaking above a normal tone as he jogs along easily.

‘Received that, where are you? We’ll come round in the Saxon and see if we can get to the front.’

‘Understood, we’re going into Green Street now.’

‘Which end you going in from?’

‘Not sure, will update you when we reach the end, Dave out.’

This feels farcical and stupid.  Us chasing a horde that is chasing something else through the quiet backstreets of a deserted ruined town.  Still, if it is the dog then getting to the horde and finishing them off will be easy enough.

Famous last words.

FORTY-TWO

‘Which way to the centre?’ Paco asks the dog, not for the first time wishing she could speak.  But then if dogs could speak they would rule the world and none of this would have happened.  They keep jogging, maintaining roughly the same distance from the horde behind them.

The strange town isn’t built on the grid format of American towns.  The ancient High Street is straight enough but streets and roads have been added over the years, creating a confusing layout of twisting avenues, streets and roads that all look the damn same with the damn same construction of red brick and slate roofs.  How the hell do people find their way back to their houses in this country?

He jogs on, the high level of fitness showing as he keeps a steady rate of breathing, his motion fluid and gentle.

He turns left at the next junction and waits for a couple of seconds until he knows he’s out of sight before opening his stride and sprinting easily down the road to the next junction.  Taking a right and sprinting again, trying to use his power and speed to lose the monsters in the twisting confusing streets.

A howling sounds behind him, he stops and twists round to see the front of the horde now sprinting having halved the gap between them.  They move as fluid as he was.  Sprinting with arms pumping, faces contorted with rage and fury.

‘What the…’ He doesn’t finish the sentence but sprints away, his mind working furiously at the change.  How can they run so fast? What changed?

They gain quickly and within seconds he hears the drumming of their feet on the ground, impossibly fast and still gaining.  He veers off calling for the dog and knowing he can’t outrun them anymore.  Crossing the road he stares at the passing houses until he sees one with an open front door.

‘Dog,’ he bellows, quickly turning into the front garden and charging up the path.  The dog runs ahead of him, streaking into the door.  Paco reaches it, leaping in and slamming it closed behind him.  Gasping for breath he checks the locks, ramming security bolts home and even putting the thin chain across.

A loud thud signifies their arrival.  More thuds as bodies slam themselves into the door.  Smashing glass from the front room as a monster launches itself bodily through the plate glass, splintering the thin wooden frame.  The dog is on it instantly, ragging the already bleeding body about.  Another throws itself through, Paco reaching down as the body crumples to the floor, he grabs the neck and snaps it quickly.  Shouting for the dog and heading through the dark hallway to the back door.

He wrenches the door open, bursting into the back garden and running for the back fence.  He curses at the six foot fence runs over to grab the dog and launches it over the top, hearing it land with a thud and an indignant bark.  The weak structure wobbles precariously under his weight as he pulls himself over and lands in a flower bed next to the dog.  Howling from not far behind them sends him on, racing across the manicured lawn and vaulting the next high fence with ease.

Cursing as he hits the ground on the other side he goes to clamber back to help the dog as she hits the top and scrabbles to drop deftly by his side.

‘Thank god for that,’ he says hoarsely as the first fence crashes down with the combine weight of the monster bodies slamming into it.

The frantic chase continues, Paco and the dog clambering fences, falling into ponds, crashing through weak trellis and all the time hearing the things behind them.  Simply powering through everything they can’t go over or under.

He sees a back door open and runs for it, calling for the dog. He flees into the house, slamming the door closed behind them before running down the hallway to the open front door, skidding to a stop as it bursts open with one of them coming through.  The dog leaps, driving the thing back through the door into the garden.  The heavy set monster withstands the initial attack, wailing his arms about and thrashing the dog off to one side.  Paco launches for him, taking him down under a flurry of hard punches.  The dog recovers, surging in to sink her teeth into his exposed face.  She tears his nose off, violently shaking her head and pushing her teeth into his eye sockets.  Paco quickly slams his foot down onto the neck.  Shouting for the dog he runs out of the front gate, cursing at seeing more of them sprinting down the road towards them.

The sprinting starts again, man and dog running fast down the dark street.  Howls of rage behind them.  Desperately trying to think of an escape route, of a path to take that would slow them down.  Instinct takes over, just running blind and knowing that sooner or later he’ll run out of steam and have to stand and fight.

A grimace spreads across his face at the thought of failing again, causing the death of the dog through his own stupid selfish actions.  Not bothering to check the time of day and leading them into danger again.

More gunshots sound out, coming from another street.  Single shots fired from an assault rifle.  Paco has heard more gunfire from years of action movies than most soldiers and recognises the sounds.

He thinks to shout, to try and alert whoever has the guns where they are, but his lungs can just about cope with the running, forget trying to shout at the same time.

They run wide into another junction, making use of the whole width of the road to make the turn while keeping his speed up.  He glances back on the turn, amazed at the speed of the things, at the power they’re displaying.  Only a few metres behind him now, the rest still negotiating the corners, fences and house he came through.  For a split second he thinks to stop and take these on, but that action would only give the others time to catch up.

No choice, they have to keep running.  His sense of direction now gone completely, no idea which way the town centre lies so they pound on with the relentless things slowly gaining behind them.

FORTY-THREE

‘Which way?’ I shout at Dave as we join him at the next junction.

‘I don’t know, they’re gone,’ he replies searching the ground for blood stains.

‘How can they go? I thought you had ‘em in sight?’ Clarence wheezes, fighting for breath.

‘I did, but they’ve gone,’ Dave shrugs, ‘they must have got faster and outran us.’

‘What? They don’t run that fast?’ Clarence replies bitterly.

‘We didn’t think they could speak either but they did,’ Dave says flatly.  We spread out, shining our torches at the ground.  The sound of smashing glass reaches us but in the dark with the buildings on either side we can’t tell the direction it came from, all of us spinning round and straining to listen.  Howls and roars add to the noise then more smashing glass.

‘This way,’ Dave starts off down the street.  We follow as best we can, all of us apart from Dave and Lani fighting for breath and suffering in the heat.  Legs getting heavier with every passing minute.  Sweat pouring from our faces and stinging our eyes.

At the end of the road we come to an abrupt halt at seeing Dave stood with his fist held up.  We fight for breath, trying to gasp quietly and listen at the same time.

‘Blood,’ Dave spots a patch on the ground further into the next street.  We start off again, Nick wheezing and starting to drop back.

‘There,’ Dave shines his torch onto the front of a house, the ground floor windows smashed in, some of the shards still wobbling in the frame.  The front door has been forced in, now hanging from its hinges.  We head inside, our beams of light picking out the blood smears in the hallway two dead bodies in the front room.

‘Throat ripped out and a broken neck,’ Dave calls out as he quickly checks both the bodies.  We push through to the back garden, instantly seeing the route they’ve taken from the smashed down fence panels.  In the next garden we see the same, just a straight line of destroyed fences leading through gardens as the horde have demolished everything in their path.

‘Fuck me they really want that dog,’ Cookey says quietly.

‘So do we,’ I reply.  We pick our pace up hoping the ease of our run through the gardens will enable us to catch them up.  The shattered fences end as the route veers into the back door of a house.  In the front garden a trampled and very dead undead lies with his face ripped off.  More howls sound out, we judge the direction and head off.  Dave again in the lead scanning the ground to pick out the patches of blood.

‘They must know…about the importance….of the dog,’ I gasp out as we run after Dave and Lani.  Still no visible sign of them other than the blood patches on the ground.  The person and the dog are running fast and doing well to stay in front of them, but that can’t last for a long time.  At some point they’ll tire and slow down and this horde seems hell-bent on getting that dog.

There is no choice now.  We’re dropping further back and just chasing signs of them through the streets.  This could go on for hours.  If that dog is still alive and normal after all this time, if it is the same dog as the woman said she saw then it has to be saved.  Nothing else matters.

‘Dave,’ I shout out, he slows down and turns to face me, ‘mate you have to go on, you’re faster than us, find that dog and keep it alive…’

‘Are you sure Mr Howie?’

‘Yes, go…’ He seems unsure for a second.  Torn between his loyalty to us but knowing he’s the best chance to help them.

‘Okay, keep your radio on,’ he shouts before turning and opening his stride up.  He powers away easily, running like an athlete with his rifle held in one hand.

‘Good call boss,’ Clarence grunts.  Lani takes Dave place, her breathing so much more controlled than ours as she runs ahead finding the blood patches.

His lungs are bursting.  His heart pounding to pump the blood into his muscles.  He knows that a few seconds break will be enough for him to recover but they don’t have a few seconds.  They have no seconds.

He can hear the things breathing coarsely now, picking out the drumming of the footsteps and the low growls.  He doesn’t speak or look back, anything other than facing ahead will use vital energy and slow them down.

The dog runs easily at his side.  She pants hard but he can sense she’s coasting along just for the sake of being with him.  She could easily flee these things, go places they can’t go.  She could run for miles back into the country and hide.  He wants to shout at her to go, tell her to keep running but he knows it will do no good.  She wouldn’t understand and would stay by his side as the things finally caught them.

Tears prick his eyes at the thought of failing again, that again his actions have led to another death and one so pure too.

His mind fills with the image of the dog when she first saved him.  The savage violence followed instantly by the softness of her approach to him.  Hiding in the bedroom while she fought all night.  Letting him hug her in a drunken stupor.

His whole life has been about Paco.  About Paco going to the best drama school getting the best parts, using the best gym with the best trainers.  Eating only the best food and being adored by millions of people.  All of it fake and worthless.

Just one chance, that’s all he wants.  Just one chance to show he can be worthwhile and mean something.

They’re so close now.  So very close.  Minutes of his life left.  Just minutes before they take him and the dog.

Ahead.  There…a house with an open door.  The windows still intact.  There it is, that one chance…thank you god, thank you for giving me this chance, I will not fail again.

A roar erupts from his throat as he drives every ounce of strength into his legs, powering away and sucking huge lungful’s of air in.  He can make it.  He can make that door.  Heart bursting with the strain, pain spreading across his chest.  He makes the path, gripping the wall to slow his speed down and turn quickly in.  Up the front garden and there it is, the open door.

‘GO ON,’ he screams at the dog.  She bounds ahead clearing the doorway.  He stops, yanking the door closed and hearing the lock slam home.

Chest heaving he smiles as he turns back to face the front garden, the dog locked inside the house and barking like crazy at being separated from him.

His face intent he sprints back down the path and into the road, turning away from the first of the things.

‘COME ON,’ he screams into the air, once more driving his legs like crazy.  He glances back, smiling in triumph at the sight of them following him.  Just metres between them now.

He’s done his best.  No man can ask for more.  Every step taken now will lead them away from that house.  Every foot gained is another chance for the dog to survive.

He’ll take Meredith’s sin.  He’ll stand before the judgement and look them in the eye.  Send me to hell; send me down to fiery depths…but damn if he won’t take a few with him.

The best shot of his life.  The camera pulls back showing Paco running with the growling things gaining with every second.  One last show.  One last scene before the final cut.  No edits, this is a one shot take.

He imagines the crew stood about watching him, the director holding his hand to his mouth.  The audiences going wild in the theatre.

One more street, that’s all he has left.  One more corner to run round and they’ll be on him.  He takes the corner, his legs stumbling but recovering.  Thigh muscles burning with agony, he feels vomit rising in his stomach and erupting from his mouth, spewing to the side, choking on the remains of the barely digested meal.

Paco glances round, staring in horror at the front of the horde turning the corner.  They haven’t slowed once, relentless and unfaltering.

This is it.  The power drains from his legs, a burning pain in his head, vision blurred.  He can feel himself slowing down, the body simply unable to continue.

Suddenly he’s standing still with no recollection of having slowed down.  Chest heaving with puke dribbling down his chin.  He waits for them to take him, knowing the impact is but seconds away.

‘DOWN DOWN DOWN…GET DOWN NOW,’ the loudest voice Paco has ever heard booms down the street.  The voice is so powerful, so commanding his body responds before his mind can question it.  Face down hugging the road, eyes blurred from sweat and tears, his airways feeling rough and bitter from the vomit.  A bright flash and loud bangs from ahead of him, gunshots.  Even in his state he recognises the sound of the assault rifle.

‘CONTACT AHEAD, MULTIPLE TARGETS,’ the voice roars between shots.  The bright muzzle flashes drop low, more loud bangs sound from further away.  More people firing over the head of the first man.

‘YOU…WHEN I SAY YOU GET UP AND RUN…CEASE FIRING…NOW RUN NOW…RUN NOW.’

The shooting ends as abruptly as it started, he heaves himself to his feet, running wildly towards the sounds of the gunfire and the bright muzzle flashes.

‘WHERE IS THE DOG?’ The voice screams at him.  Paco can’t speak, he can hardly breathe.  His entire being is on autopilot, a dream sequence of hazy images

‘DAVE, where is the dog?’ Another voice shouts, not as loud but still full of power and authority.

‘It’s not here Mr Howie.’

‘FIRE,’ another voice shouts, someone drags him away, leading him as they fire at the things coming after them.  The shots deafening his ears so close, the shouts of young voices.  A woman too. Someone else with a very deep voice.

‘Chris we’re in John Street, multiple contacts, receive? John Street, multiple contacts.’

‘Loud and clear, coming now.’

‘Clarence, find out where the dog is.’

‘WHERE IS THE FUCKING DOG?’ The deep voice shouts in his face.

‘…House…in…house...’ Paco tries to speak, his head spinning.

‘WHAT HOUSE?’ The voice is so deep and angry.  Water gets sloshed down his face, cool and refreshing.  A rough hand slaps him across the cheek, ‘WHAT HOUSE?’

Paco’s senses snap back, rubbing his eyes to clear his vision and shaking his head.  A giant of a man with a bald head is glaring at him.  Paco realises they’re still moving, being half dragged and somehow still walking.  His head turns slowly to see a motley collection of people firing assault rifles into the monsters as they retreat down the road.

‘WHAT HOUSE?’ The giant screams again, leaning his face inches from Paco, spittle flying from his lips.

‘The corner…back round the corner….I got it inside a house…’

‘THE STREET YOU JUST CAME FROM? IN A HOUSE IN THAT STREET?’ The question is too difficult for Paco to process, his dull senses working overtime just to see and hear, his legs weak and shaky.

‘WHICH STREET?’

‘Er….I….’ Paco thinks furiously, the last few minutes just a blank in his mind.  An image of the door he closed swims into his mind.  Two brass numbers were on the door, right in front of his face.

‘Thirty four,’ he yells back, ‘it’s in thirty four.’

‘BOSS THE DOGS IN NUMBER THIRTY FOUR.’

‘WHICH STREET CLARENCE?’

‘HE’S OUT OF IT BOSS, MUST BE THAT ONE HE CAME FROM.’

‘CLARENCE, YOU HOLD THEM HERE AND WAIT FOR CHRIS, DAVE YOU’RE WITH ME…WE’LL GO OVER THE GARDENS…TAKE MY BAG’

‘YOU HEARD THE BOSS, KEEP FIRING AND GIVE THEM SOME COVER…Chris where the fuck are you?’

‘Not far Clarence, hold your position we’ve got the GPMG ready to go.’

‘HURRY THE FUCK UP CHRIS…KEEP FIRING, CAN YOU USE A GUN?’

Paco feels himself being pulled along, listening to the voices around him with a detachment.

‘TAKE THIS,’ the big man shoves a bottle into his hand, Paco lifts it to his lips expecting water but getting a syrupy liquid instead.  He gulps it down greedily, the liquid cascading down his chin.

‘FALL BACK….KEEP FIRING.’

Paco feels the glucose and sugar hitting him, the instant carbohydrate working wonders in snapping his mind back to reality.  He’s walking behind the group, not knowing he was walking but taking steps all the same.  The monsters are still charging, some of them coming straight and others weaving across the road.  He can see they are only just being held back and getting closer every second.  Two others running across the road and climbing a fence, one of them with an axe in one hand and an assault rifle in the other, the smaller man just carrying an assault rifle.

‘CAN YOU USE A GUN?’ The huge man with the bald head shouts at him, firing one handed while holding a pistol towards Paco.  He takes the gun, a 9mm pistol.  The weight and feel is familiar to him from so many action movies.  His fingers switch into auto-pilot as habit of hand kicks in, ejecting the magazine, checking the rounds before slamming it back home and sliding the top back to engage the first round.

He lifts his arm, tracking one of the monsters and firing easily.  The thing drops down but he hardly notices, already raising his aim for the next one.

‘CLARENCE…WE’RE GIVING TOO MUCH GROUND, WHERE ‘S CHRIS?’ One of the young men shouts from the front.

‘ON HIS WAY.’

‘HE BETTER FUCKING HURRY UP OR WE’RE FUCKED.’

Paco doesn’t know who Chris is, he doesn’t know who any of these people are, but suddenly he’s wishing that Chris, whoever he is, hurries the fuck up.

FORTY-FOUR

She makes noise at the entrance to the den.  He sealed it off, preventing her from being with him.  She throws herself at the door again and again.  Her body weight slamming and vibrating the frame, rattling the windows.

Her head cocks slightly to the side as she hears him pounding away, the things running after him.  She doesn’t understand his intentions.  This is a mistake.  Separation of the pack is a mistake.  She must be with him.

Running into the front room she leaps at the window, watching the things as they pour past the garden.  So many of them.  They want her man just like they wanted her little one.

She can see them but she can’t get to them.  An invisible wall is in her way.  She backs up and throws herself at it, bouncing off from the thick frame holding the double glazed windows in place.

Through the window she can see as the last of the things stops and stares into the house.  She makes noise, warning it to stay away from her pack leader, urging it to come for her, willing it to fight.  The thing is joined as more of them drop back and stare into the window.

Their numbers grow outside in the street.  They pause, waiting for more to drop back before moving towards the house, swarming over the low wall and pouring through the gate. She stays at the window, making noise and leaping up to try and get to them.

They attack the windows, throwing themselves bodily but bouncing back of the thick panes.  They persist, slamming fists, elbows, feet and heads into the panes.  They start to fracture, giving under the constant bombardment.

She hears bangs coming from the front door and barks her fury at them.  Come for me, come in here and see what waits for you.  I’ve killed many of you and I will again.

Pure instinct drives her on.  She runs to the front door, nose down to the very bottom and barking constantly.  The hairs on her back standing up, her feet planted wide apart.  Tail curled up.

She wants to be with the man.  She needs to be with her pack, protecting him.  He is alone now and the things will be going for him.

The dog turns again to head for the windows of the front room, her eyes catch sight of the open back door.  She bounds outside into the enclosed back garden.  A six foot fence but with ivy coated trellis on the top of that making the height even higher, too high for her to jump.  The fence circuits the perimeter of the garden, trapping her within.  No escape, no way of getting out to her man until the things beat their way inside.  Smashing noises in the house, the sounds of heavy repeated thuds at the front door.

Inside the house she runs between the front door and the lounge windows, barking and snarling as she leaps at them, her paws clawing the glass and frame.

FORTY-FIVE

‘You okay?’ Dave asks me as I land heavily the other side of the fence, losing my balance and stumbling down into the flower bed.

‘Fine, fine…keep going,’ getting to my feet we run across the lawn.  Dave leaps to the top of the fence, almost vaulting it.  I on the other hand hit it almost full on, the fence wobbles dangerously as I scoot my arse over the top and land the other side.

‘We need to get into the street and find the numbers,’ I shout as Dave runs at the next fence, he swerves off and heads to the back door, trying to handle but finding it locked.

‘Your axe,’ he shouts.  I throw it over to him.  He catches it easily, dropping his rifle and slamming the heavy metal end into the pane of glass, raking it round the frame to remove the shards of glass.  He reaches in, feeling for a lock to undo.

‘Key locked, no key,’ he calls out and climbs through the empty pane.  I pass my rifle through, then the axe and finally myself.  Ungainly and the polar opposite to Dave’s graceful movements.  Fortunately the end result is the same with both of inside the house, running towards the front door.

Dave gets there first, as expected.  The key in the lock on the inside.  He goes to unlock it, pausing to glance at me as we both make the connection between this door locked on the inside and the back door locked with no key.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ A man shouts from the top of the stairs brandishing a cricket bat.

‘Sorry, emergency…we lost our dog,’ I shout as Dave gets the door open.  We sprint out, down the path and into the garden.  The front door slams behind us a few seconds later.  Feeling guilty from smashing in the back door of what must be one of the only occupied houses we move away, heading up the street.

‘What number was that?’ I ask Dave.

‘I don’t know, I thought you checked it.’

‘Er…nope, what’s that one?’ We both run to the next house, stopping to shine our torches at the front door.

‘No number,’ Dave replies, our torch beams strafing the door and front walls.

‘Fucking wankers,’ I mutter with indignation.

We run to the next house and stop at the gate, again shining our torches at the front door.

‘White Gates,’ Dave reads the wooden sign on the wall, ‘no number.’

‘Fucking wankers!…they don’t even have white gates…must be the next street if these are all named.’  Jogging down the street we keep checking the front doors, finding them all to be named instead of numbered.  At the junction we pause, the sound of loud thuds and shattering glass gives us direction.  We head towards it, seeing a mass of bodies illuminated by the moon, assaulting the front of a house.  Undead throwing themselves with unbelievable ferocity at the windows and door.  As we get closer I watch as one of them stands in front of the thick double glazed glass, pulling his head back and ramming his forehead repeatedly into the panes of glass.  They fracture, large spider web cracks forming.  He keeps going, driving his bloodied skull into the thick glass, fracturing and smashing it bit by bit.

‘We can’t shoot in, we might hit the dog,’ Dave says quickly.

‘Round the back then, we can shoot out.’

‘Roger,’ he replies leading the way up a garden path a few doors down.  The front door is locked and secure, a solid UPVC door.  Dave drops down, kicking at the panel at mid centre of the bottom half.  Sat on his arse with his feet cycling back and forth, raining blow after blow.  The panel comes free, the whole of it simply falling into the house.

‘How the?’ I whisper as he peers inside before pulling himself through.

‘Kick panel,’ he replies.  Again I have to pass my kit through before I squeeze through the hole, Dave standing facing away to cover me until I get through.

‘I’m in.’

‘This way,’ he says leading us through the dark house towards the back.  We find the kitchen door closed but unlocked and head out into the garden.  Another six foot high fence, I throw my axe over and swing the rifle round onto my back, I back up so I can take a running jump at it.

Dave vaults it easily again like a cat.  My running jump gets me most of the way up.  My hands pressing down on the top to lever the rest of my body up.  The fence groans with a splintering sounds them gives way, crashing down with me still on top of it.

‘Sorry,’ I whisper to Dave, picking myself up from the debris and pulling fence panels from the straps of my bag.

‘Listen,’ he stares at me.  I strain my ears, hearing a dog barking furiously.  The sound mixed in with the repeated thuds and bangs.

‘Go!’ I urge him as I run at the next fence.  Thankfully this one doesn’t collapse under my weight and I manage to get myself over.

‘Oh fucking hell,’ I mutter at the sight of the much larger fence.  The barking and thuds loud and clear now.

‘Must be in that one,’ Dave nods at the high ivy covered fence looming over our heads.  The noises suddenly escalate.  Glass shattering noisily and we hear the dog snarling as it attacks something.

‘They’re through,’ I call out, spotting a garden shed in the corner I head towards it.  Using my axe to smash the door open.  ‘Dave take the end,’ I grab the ladders inside the shed, trying to yank them free, bungee cords hold them in place and I curse with harsh language as my fingers fight to get them off.

‘Got it,’ Dave pulls the end, dragging the ladder from the shed and running across the lawn to prop them up against the fence.  The top of the ladder slams against the fence, a foot too short.  Dave scales up, levering himself over the top and dropping down the other side.

I go next, feeling the wobble as the ladder slides on the hard compacted ground underneath it.  Reaching the top I straddle the edge, just weak trellis that sways and rocks underneath me.  I drop my legs down, holding onto the top spoke and closing my eyes as I let go.  The drop isn’t that bad, just jarring more than anything.

We’re in a garden with the same high fence on all sides.  The back door open and the sound of fierce fighting coming from within.  Both of us sprint to the back door, gaining the kitchen just as the front door bursts open and the undead start pushing through.

Dave starts firing instantly, it takes me a few more seconds to swing my rifle round from my back and take aim.  The dog is out of sight in the front room but we can both hear it snarling and attacking the undead as they come through the windows.

‘AIM HIGH, THE DOG MIGHT COME OUT,’ Dave shouts.  I take aim at head height, single shot only and aiming into mass of bodies trying to push through the now open doorway.

Heads explode, bodies flung back from the power of the rounds slamming into them.  We edge forward slowly, firing quickly into the mass.

‘MAGAZINE,’ I shout and scrabble for the next full one in the pouch on my belt, ramming it home quickly and pulling the bolt back.

‘COVER ME,’ Dave shouts, he crouches down, crabbing down the hallway towards the lounge door, kneeling at an angle and firing his weapon into the room.  I keep firing at the front door.  Every one killed is instantly replaced.  The zombies are possessed, more ferocious than I have ever seen them.  Body shots go unnoticed apart from the power of the bullet forcing them back.  Only head shots drop them.

Dave shouts and quickly changes his magazine, shouting that it’s his last one.  He picks his shots, firing into lounge.  The end of the gun making tiny adjustments as he aim and fires.

‘MAGAZINE, LAST ONE,’ I shout, kneeling down to quickly change.  Dave draws his pistol with his right hand, half turning and firing one shot at the front door with the hand weapon, then the next shot with the assault rifle into the lounge.

‘GET THE DOG OUT,’ I scream, pulling the bolt back and firing the last magazine of my assault rifle into the front door.

He disappears into the lounge as I move up the hallway.  Shots ring out from within the room, the dog snarling and barking.  I reach the doorway and glance inside just in time to see the dog leap at the smashed in window, snapping her mouth shut onto the throat of an undead clambering bodily through the gap.  She grips it between her teeth, shaking her head violently and tearing a huge clump of flesh from the neck.  Blood spurts out thick and fast, coating the already sodden floor.  The undead struggles for a second before slumping down half in the gap.  Dave shoots over the top of it as I empty my magazine into the front door.  The fallen bodies again form an obstacle, giving us just a few seconds back down the hallway.

I whistle and urge the dog to come with us.  The thing is massive, easily one of the biggest dogs I have ever seen.  Paws like a lion, standing broad and high she looks wild and feral.  Blood dripping from her panting mouth.  Her lips stretched open to show the row of deadly teeth coated pink.  Her hair is standing up and tail curled up over her back making her look even larger.

She looks at me, big beautiful soft brown eyes with no sign of the red bloodshot look of the undead.

‘Good girl, come on…good girl,’ I smile at her watching as her tail twitches which maybe a wag or a pre-cursor to ripping my head off.

Backing down the hallway I push the now useless rifle round to my back and draw my pistol.  Firing at the undead as they scrabble and claw to climb over the bodies mounting up.  Dave does the same, firing with ruthless precision directly into their heads.

The dog takes up her barking again, an incredibly deep noise that resonates round as much as the gunfire in the enclosed space.

‘Fuck it! My radio is on my bag, did you bring yours?’

‘No, sorry.’

We pull back further towards the garden.  The things are pushing at the bodies now, their combined weight and utterly venomous thirst for destruction driving the corpses inside.  I change magazine, ramming the new clip home and moving a couple of steps towards the door to fire into the pressing mass.  My heart sinks at the number of undead behind the wall of cadavers.   Too many, far too many.

One magazine left in my pistol, I ram it home and slide the top back.  Dave goes forward firing individual fast shots, aiming for their heads.  Each of his bullets slam home, taking the skulls off and sending the foul beast to hell.  But it isn’t enough.

‘How many you got left?’

‘Last one,’ he replies, ‘got knives though,’ he gives me a quick smile before stepping in shooting his last magazine into them. ‘I’m out.’ He steps back re-holstering the gun.

‘My last one now, you take it,’ I hand the pistol to him which he takes without complaint.

‘Get your axe into that fence Mr Howie,’ he shouts before turning to fire.  I run out the back door, swinging my axe into the fence.  The thing isn’t the cheap thin feather board fences that everyone else uses.  Oh no, this wanker has had a proper fence built.  Thick sturdy boards at six feet in height with that shitty trellis on the top.

‘Fucking Alan Titchsmarsh,’ I yell in fury as the axe bites into the boards.  I hack away, hearing Dave place his shots slowly and carefully.  More gunfire in the distance, the assault rifles cutting the other horde down.

This is desperate now.  Even Dave might struggle to hold them back, they’ve changed again, evolved and become stronger and wilder.  Roaring I swing the axe down, biting into the wood and wrenching it back.  The boards split, slowly smashing under the blows.

‘I’M OUT,’ Dave bellows from inside.

‘COMING,’ I shout and start towards the door.

‘KEEP GOING,’ he shouts back.  The image of him right at that point will stay with me forever.  Shoving the pistol into his waist band he pulls the knives from his back. The points of the blades down towards the floor.  His wrists flicker as they’re suddenly rotated and turned, the blades now pointing upwards against his forearms.  The dog next to him, standing fierce and proud, her head low.

They both turn back to the door, both of them growling, quivering with anger, waiting for the attack.  Wild animals full of pure killing instinct.  Shit, I could probably sit down and have a cup of tea.  Nothing could get through them.  I’ve been with Dave since this started, seen him kill and kill again with such ease.  But now, with that huge beast of a dog next to him…well, it’s something else.  The poor zombies are fucked.  Then I remember why we’re here in the first place and the extreme importance of that animal, the dog I mean, not Dave.  That dog has pure untainted blood that we need.

The thought drives me back to the fence, the axe once more swinging down into the boards.  Slowly it’s beaten down, a hole through to the next garden forms slowly.  I hack away making it big enough for me to squeeze through.

‘INCOMING,’ Dave screams from inside the house.  The sounds of battle reaching me.

‘WE’RE THROUGH,’ I shout back as the dog appears through the door, walking backwards and lunging back in.  I start forward seeing the back of Dave spinning and twisting as he fells anything that comes at him.  The hallway is packed with them, deep and dense.  Their drive is too much, pushing Dave and the dog back into the garden.

‘GO GO,’ Dave shouts, just about holding them at the doorway.

‘Come on, good girl, come on…’ I whistle and pull at the dog by her neck.  She fights against me for a second, desperate to get at the undead.  I keep shouting and pulling, she relents and turns with me, letting me guide and get her through the hole. I drop down onto all fours and start backing through it, pausing when just my head is left poking out.

‘CLEAR…NOW DAVE…’he breaks free, turning to sprint across the lawn.  I jerk back just in time as he dives through.  Scrabbling to get his legs in. I’m already up, the axe held ready as Dave gets clear.  I swing down at the first head that comes through, the blade biting deep into the skull killing it instantly.  Another appears above it, clawing and thrashing through the hole.  I swing in, slicing into the face and cleaving the skull open.  As I free the blade the dog lunges in, savaging the remains of the skull with her teeth.

The fence vibrates as the bodies slam into it on the other side.  We hold our position.  The axe chopping down anything that comes through the hole.

‘THE TOP,’ Dave bellows as an undead launches itself from the top of the fence, the trellis crashing down with the weight of the zombies climbing up it.  More bodies fall down our side.  Dave and the dog moving quickly between them, killing them swiftly as I focus on the hole in the fence.

She is amazing.  So quick and agile yet her strength is awesome.  Days of doing this have honed her killing skill to perfection.  If Dave came back as an animal he would be that dog. Swift and brutal.

She leaps between them, using her weight to slam them down and tear at their throats.  If they withstand the weight of her body ramming into them she goes straight for the neck anyway.  Shaking her neck and ragging them about the garden.  Fully grown adults being tossed about like dolls.  For once something other than Dave mesmerises me.

I slam my axe down, killing another one.  The hole is now blocked by bodies.  But the fence is shaking violently as the press of bodies from the other side slam and slam into it.

The fence starts to come down, slowly creaking with a loud splintering sound.  I sprint across the lawn, swinging the axe into the next fence which thankfully is the cheap thin feather-board variety.  The axes bites through the thin panels and I kick the rest away as Dave and the dog kill the things as they drop down onto the lawn.

The sturdy fence comes down, the first couple of ranks of the undead toppling over with it.  We scoot through the hole of the next fence and keep going for the next one, Dave and I charge it bodily, our combined weight smashing clean through the middle of one panel.  We both fall from the charge but we’re through.  We glance back as the undead regain their feet from the falling first fence and start charging across.  Several of the next panels splinter and fall as they press home their attack but we’re already off, charging across the garden and turning our shoulders into the middle of the next panel.

We burst through the fence, the dog charging back at the things and taking one down before running back to join us.  Dave and I keep going, intent on making as much distance as possible between us and them.

The next fence panel goes down, pain in my shoulder from the impact but no damage as I can still move my arm as we sprint across for the next one.  The undead are roaring and howling, a sickening sound that just drives us on faster.  We hit the next fence at the same time as they impact on the one behind us.  Two splintering crashing noises but their drive and speed pushes them on faster than us.  They don’t care about pain or position, just slamming into the fence panel’s face on.  Bodies dropping from the impact and being trampled only to get back up and keep charging.  We don’t have that luxury, we have to position and brace ourselves for the impact.  Those two slight things mean they’re closing the gap far quicker than either of us expected.

We crash into the final garden, my heart sinks at the sight of the wall.  The solid brick wall that borders the road.  The garden is lower than the road, now I understand why I fell when I jumped down, the drop being further than I expected.

Ferocious fighting is taking place the other side of that wall but it might as well be in fucking France, the distance is just too great.  The wall is just too high.  Dave might make it but me and the dog won’t, well maybe the dog would…but that would mean it has to understand its own importance and know it must survive, it must run at the wall and leap high.  There isn’t time to communicate this to the dog, there isn’t time to urge the dog over.  The dog wants to fight, it wants to kill the undead.

These last few strides will take us to the wall, then we have no choice but to fight.  Time slows as my legs make the strides.  I glance at Dave as he nods at me, his eyes alight and telling me everything I need to know.  The dog is running to the side of us, her ears pricked at the sounds coming from the other side of the wall.

We reach the wall and stop, quickly turning back.  Four, maybe five seconds before they’re on us.  My axe is ready, gripped in both hands.  Dave has a knife in each hand.  We face the horde, the fetid dirty foul evil spawn that charge at us across a once perfectly manicured green lawn.  The dog is ready, her head low and top lip crumpled showing them her teeth.

‘READY DAVE?’

‘YES MR HOWIE,’ He bellows back, his voice loud and strong.  Fury etched onto his face, his own lips pulled back, snarling.  My own top lip pulls up as I roar my challenge at them.  Dave gives voice, the dog glances between us.  Her eyes on fire as she joins us.

We do not fear you.  We ran for a reason but not through fear, never through fear.  We are not cowards but warriors strong and true.  We three stand before your many and we stand proud and ready.  We hold weapons but we will fight you without them if we have to.  Know us.  Know our names.  Know who we are for we will reap a vengeance on you.  See us before you.  Feel that power surging through our bodies and know that one of our few cannot be turned.  For that you have failed and we have that one thing that will drive humanity forever onwards.  We have hope.  One tiny spark of hope that will keep you from our doors.

I am Howie.  Son of Howard.

We have met before.

You know me.

I am your destroyer and I will end you.

The three of us charge the many.  Dave goes right, I go left and the dog takes the middle.  My axe swings back high and swipes forward into their ranks.  The shaft with the heavy weighted double blade becomes an extension of my body, a part of me as intrinsic as my arms and legs.  We are connected and it becomes alive in my hands.  The blade bites and snarls with a life and heart of its own.  The undead wilt and die before me.  They have no power, no love.  I fight for my friends, for they are my family.  My axe flies and bites, slices and sweeps.  It skewers and cleaves, taking heads off, destroying necks, slicing through shoulder joints.  They pile in, oh they pile in with such ferocity that it should make me feel overwhelmed but instead I relish the challenge.  One may get me, one bite or scratch will be all it needs but until that happens I shall not stop.

Dave is to the right fighting deep amongst them.  His athletic grace is unstoppable, the power generated through his small body becomes something ethereal, magical.  An ability that humans should not possess for the power it gives them must, must corrupt their soul.  For Dave though it is a simply a skill he has and a task that needs doing.  The more I know him, the more time I spend with him the more I see further into him.  There is a spark there, something that comes alive when he does this.

I throw my head back and scream my vengeance at them, swinging out and keeping them at bay.  The grass quickly becomes slick from the blood, the bodies become trip hazards in the dark of the garden.  The fighting becomes dirty and close quartered, I glance over to the fence and see more pouring through.  Too many.  The gardens are thick with them.  I catch sight of the dog leaping high and taking a throat out with her jaws.

They lunge at her, diving and frantic to take her down.  She takes bites, I see it happen.  One of them sinking his teeth into her shoulder.  She howls and spins round, ravaging the thing to death and dragging it quickly backwards knocking more of their feet as the undead flails its arms and legs about.

The man we saved in the street roars and leaps from the top of the wall, landing feet from me and taking several down with him.  He’s on his feet within a second, his face is filled with pure vengeance.  His thick muscular arms punch out quick and hard.  Faces lunge at him, he punches fast and knocks them back.  His hard knuckles breaking bones left right and centre.  With his bare hands he fights them.  That dog must mean the world to him, maybe he knows of her pure blood and fights for the same reasons.

‘MEREDITH,’ he screams with a deep voice.  He lashes out, knocking one back and grabbing another.  His arms quickly wrapping round the thing and snapping its neck.  His movements become faster as he repeats the action, grabbing another and twisting violently.

My axe is bloodied now, the crimson foulness pours down the shaft and coats my hands.  I grip harder and do the work I was made for; killing and destroying the evil things before me.

‘MEREDITH,’ the man bellows.  He grabs another one, slamming his foot down onto the undeads knee and snapping the neck.  I’ve seen that before, many times.  Who does that move? Not Dave or Clarence.

We fight on, losing.  Losing and we know it.  The firing continues the other side of the wall, they must be as pinned down as we are. No hope of rescue then.  Oh well, they’ll have to cope for a while longer until we’ve finished these off.  Ha! Hope Howie, there’s always Hope.  Our four pitted against them, we don’t fight in a circle but on our own.  Each beast amongst us fighting for his own reasons but for the same end.

We’re going to lose.  That is almost certain now.  For everything wonderful that Dave can do, for the sheer destructive power of the dog, for the lunacy of that big bloke, even for the power I possess we are simply too outnumbered to win.  I’m getting backed into a corner, giving ground but killing for every step back I have to take.

A huge sound fills the air, cheering erupts from the other side of the wall as the beloved, beautiful, glorious sound of the General Purpose Machine Gun fills the air.  That constant beat it produces so distinctive and true.

Within a second the top of the wall is swarming with my blessed team.  Every-one of them scrambling and dropping down.  Rifles cast aside for fear of shooting their own.

Blowers.  That brave lad always with Cookey at his side.  They leap with axes drawn, landing deep in the fray.  Clarence bellows with his axe held out above his head.  A Viking berserker sent from ages past to rid the world of this plague.  Lani, slight and deadly, meat cleaver shining in her hand.  She casts her eyes, seeing me backed into the corner and surrounded by the filthy undead.  Too many of them for my axe to take.  Her face twists into one of pure rage, she charges at them with the scream of a banshee intent on destruction.  Tom and Nick roar in with unbridled glory, they team up covering each-others backs and fighting with utter brutality.  Chris drops down, his eyes ablaze as the diplomat and leader leaves to be replaced with the warrior he is.  He makes for Clarence.  The two big men fighting side by side.  Long years spent doing the same has made them an intuitive and amazing team to behold.

See us you foul things.  See my team.  See who we are for now we are not few but we are many.  Less than you but enough for I will take any of these against a horde a hundred times your size.

The unknown man fights towards the dog, she gets to his side and they fight out.  We give voice as we do battle.  They howl and scream with fury and we howl and scream back.  This garden of a house of a street in a quiet town becomes to site of a furious battle.  Undead stream at us and die under our weapons.  Lani reaches my side and we fight out together.  Her meat cleaver so deadly and accurate as she whips and charges them unafraid and fearsome.

The man snaps necks one after the other, with more of us fighting the space has evened out and he becomes deadlier than before.  The dog watches him constantly, taking anything down that even looks like its heading his way.  He fights with glorious beauty, screaming the name Meredith over and again.

They sense the loss and they change.  Fighting harder than before with such savagery it becomes almost frightening to watch them for never before have I seen such twisted hatred, such darkness of violence driving a creature for these are creatures with nothing human about them now.  Hands become claws, lashing out with deadly strength.

The dog howls as an undead sinks its teeth into her body, the hands of the zombie pummelling her side.  She thrashes wildly, the man screaming and diving down onto the zombie.  His fists driving punches into its head.  He breaks the things grip and snaps its neck.  The dog bleeds from a wound to her side but pays no heed.  On her feet and returning the gesture with her teeth.  The man drives into them again. He becomes overwhelmed, hands driving at him.  The dog leaps into them, using her body to slam them backwards.  Dave gains the dog’s side, his knives slashing and cutting deeply, his feet kicking out as he battles them away.  Chris and Clarence fight in, destroying the things she knocked back.

Blowers leads the rest to the fence, screaming orders as he, Cookey, Nick and Tom form a line across the boundary.  They fight out with their backs to us, trusting their comrades to protect them from the rear.  Lani and I fight towards them, the battle is ferocious now.  They become super charged with greater strength and unabated violence coursing through their dead systems.  The man goes down, bodies of undead swarming over him.  The dog leaps in amongst them, her teeth gnashing left and right ripping bodies away.  Dave roars, joining the dog and fighting into them.  The man is lost to view, his body covered by undead.  The dog going wild with fury and bleeding from several wounds to her body, her black fur matted with the wet glistening blood.  Clarence loses his axe in the head of one if the things.  He kicks the undead away, lifting it from its feet as it ploughs deep into the ranks of the oncoming.  He reverts to hands, his massive arms swiping and knocking them down.  He scoops a broken body up, using it as a battering ram at first before grabbing the corpse by the ankles and swinging at the undead.  Releasing the body to slam them against the end wall and he piles in after them.  Chris at his side as they bring their own way of fighting to the zombies.

Lani and I reach the pile in the middle, hacking, kicking, punching and gouging.  We beat the bodies back.  The man fights under them, still alive and his face contorted with the indignation of losing his feet.  His t-shirt is ripped from his body as clawed hands rake at him.  Blood coats his skin, his own blood from cuts and bites to his arms, neck and body.  He doesn’t notice, he doesn’t care.  Dave stares at him for a split second before fighting out again.  Chris and Clarence, having killed their end fight back towards the middle.  Corpses everywhere, bits of corpse everywhere.  Feet slipping and sliding and the fighting becomes the hardest in these last few minutes.  They’ve lost but they don’t care.  They fight and claw, lunging and snapping their teeth without hesitation.

Lani stays at my side, Dave stays with the dog and the dog stays by the man as we fight for our lives.  The line at the fence breaks as Chris roars to cover the dog.  The undead are no longer coming at us, their numbers are exhausted.

The rest fall back into a slowly decreasing circle, ending the life of anything that doesn’t belong on this earth.

The last seconds and the man slips, going down hard.  The last few undead pile into him, covering his body.  The dog reacts as quickly as before and we’re there, all of us are there pulling the bodies away and ending them quickly.

As the last body has its neck snapped by Clarence and thrown casually aside we stand and stare about us.  Chests heaving, weapons raised and ready.

Its’ done.  The battle is ours but the bloodlust is still on us.  We still snarl and growl as the reality of the victory slowly trickles into our heads.

The man starts to rise, his face still flushed with battle as he gets up to fight some more.  He slips and staggers, his legs giving way underneath him.  The dog whines at his side, licking his face with her tail wagging, the hair on her back no longer standing on end.  Her teeth no longer showing.

I rush over, dropping down next to him.  The wounds are deep, too deep and too many of them.  His body covered in cuts and bites.  His face is familiar, a thick beard covers his jaw and suddenly the image of that move he did comes to mind.

‘Paco Maguire, fuck me…’ Cookey says hoarsely as he too recognises the fallen man.

‘Get me up,’ the man gasps for air.  I try to help him to his feet but his own legs won’t take his weight, he sinks back down.

‘It’s done, it’s over…we won,’ I say between lungful’s of air.

‘Oh,’ he says simply and the fight goes out of him, he rises to sit upright.  Staring at the dog and wincing as she licks at his wounds. ‘I’m cut…’ his deep American voice says flatly, ‘I’ve been bit.’

He stares up at our faces, no one says anything, too out of breath and knowing what it means too.

‘Are you okay?’ He asks the dog, ‘you’ve been bit too, get me water…quick.’ Someone passes him a bottle which he uses to pour down her side, cleaning the wounds, ‘good girl, you’re gonna be okay…you know that…you’re gonna be okay,’ he pours the bottle on her bites.  She winces but takes the pain, holding her head so close to his.  She sniffs at his wounds, licking them as they try to clean each other.  ‘More water damn you,’ the man snaps.  Bottles are passed down to him.  He cups his hands, telling someone to pour water into them.  It’s done by Lani but the man doesn’t acknowledge the action, just stares at the dog as he pushes the makeshift bowl towards her.  She laps at the water, her long pink tongue licking his hands in the process.  He takes the bottle from Lani and holds it to her mouth, gently pouring it out as she licks the cascading liquid.  He smiles and rubs her neck, ‘drink, good girl, you drink it all up….clean her wounds for damn sake,’ he snarls out the side of her mouth.

We dart forward, hands holding water bottles and pouring the liquid down her sides.  She suffers the pain, intent on lapping at the water he pours by her mouth.

The man coughs once, then again harder.  The bottle falls from his grip as he sinks onto his side, gripping his stomach and writhing in pain.

The dog whines and licks his face, her rough tongue removing the blood from his skin.  He comes to, opening his eyes and smiling up at her.  He rolls onto his back, his arms coming up to wrap round her neck.  She sinks down onto his chest, her front legs either side of his head.

‘Meredith…’ he whispers softly hugging the dog. ‘Meredith….I’m coming…’

I drop down to his side, the dog suddenly showing me teeth and growling.  We back off, leaving them together.  He clings to her neck, his face a picture of happiness and contentment.  His fingers stroke her fur as he whispers soft murmurings into her ears.  She licks his face again, he chuckles softly.

‘You take care of her you hear me…you damn well take care of her,’ he suddenly roars with power in his voice.

‘We will, I promise,’ I say back.  My voice choking as tears sting my eyes.  Glancing round I see clean streaks down the faces of most of the others.  Even Clarence and Chris.  Dave is the only one who doesn’t show a reaction.

‘Good girl….good…..girl….Meredith….good….’ his voice becomes a whisper, his hands cling to the dog’s neck.  His breathing slows, becoming shallower with every second.  His fingers slip as his hands fall down.  He exhales and dies.

The dog whines, licking his face and gently moving her paws against his neck.  Dave steps forward, his knife ready.  She growls softly, sensing his movement, the hair on her back on end.  I wave my hand at him, telling him to back away.  He nods and steps back.

We stand ready, knowing the outcome.  Chris slowly pulls his pistol and aims at the head, ready for the turn.

The dog whines, staring at Paco’s face.  Her tongue still licking at his skin.  The hair on her back settles.  She whines longer, her head lifting as she howls long and sorrowfully into the night air.  The piercing sound makes the tears come harder.  Lani chokes and moves into my side, I wrap my arm round her shoulders.  Cookey drops to his knees quietly sobbing.  Nick turns away his chest heaving.

She stops the howl, looking down at her master.  The howl ends as her head cocks to one side, staring with intensity at the body of Paco Maguire.  Ears pricked and eyes fixed.

I glance at Chris, he shrugs almost imperceptibly.  The hair on her back slowly stands up again, a low growl in her throat.  She doesn’t blink or look away, but slowly rises up.  Her body lifting from the chest of the man she fought so bravely for.  The top lip of the dog pulls back, showing the huge teeth.  The growl becomes louder.  Her body rigid.

The corpse twitches once, a judder of electricity running through its body.  She growls louder still.  Holding position with her front feet planted either side of the corpses head.  Her nose inches from the face.

The hands clench and flex, the arms spasm.  The corpse jolts and the eyes open.  The red bloodshot eyes staring out at the face of the dog.  A loud snarl erupts as her jaws clamp down, tearing the throat out.

Instinct forces my eyes closed, squeezing them shut.  The wet tearing sound of flesh as the dog savages the undead body of Paco Maguire.

When I open my eyes she’s stood to the side of the body, growling at it.  She barks fiercely at the corpse, then backs away and lifts her head to stare at everyone stood watching her.  She looks at each face, her eyes locking on mine for long seconds.  She twitches and looks down at her own side, as though suddenly aware of the wounds.  She twists back to sniff at them, her back end slumping down to the ground.  We rush forward, hands ready to lift and carry her if need be.

More water gets poured down her wounds, washing the blood away.  Nick runs off to the house, the sound of smashing glass reaches us.  I crouch down at her head, stroking the broad top of her skull.  Her tail wags at the attention as many voices all tell her what a good girl she is.

Torches shine onto the wounds.  Nick runs back carrying a large glass mixing bowl and pulling a hose with him.  He puts the bowl down, pushing the end of the hose into the bowl and filling it with water.

‘JOHN CAN YOU HEAR ME?’ Chris shouts at the wall.

‘Yeah, you alright over there?’ A voice shouts back.

‘I WANT THE FIELD DRESSINGS OVER HERE.’

‘Roger,’ the voice shouts back.

The dog laps at the water, Nick runs back with towels and cloths from the house, using the end of the hose to soak her coat and wipe the filth away.  Every hand that can get to her does something.  Cleans, pats, strokes.  She seems unbothered, letting her wounds be tended as she drinks and drinks.  Her skin judders as the bites and cuts are cleaned and washed.  The field kit is carried over by one of Chris’s men.  They tear the packages open, unravelling bandages and wrapping them round the dog.

‘She needs to stand up,’ Chris says quietly.  We gently lift the dog to her feet.  For such a vicious animal she takes it remarkably well.  Allowing herself to be held and fussed.  Her tail wagging slowly and all the time drinking water from the bowl.

Within a couple of minutes the dog is washed , rubbed dry and covered in bandages.

‘Any idea what her name is?’ Cookey asks.

‘No mate, that bloke kept saying Meredith though,’ I reply.

‘Must be her name then,’ Nick says.

‘Bit of a weird name for a dog,’ Clarence offers.

‘That was Paco Maguire wasn’t it?’ Cookey asks.

‘It was.’

‘What the hell was he here doing here?’ Blowers asks standing back and pouring water down his face from the hose.

‘No idea, didn’t really get a chance to ask him.’

‘Hard bloke though, I thought all those actors were pussies,’ Tom adds.

‘He was proper hard, did you see him doing that thing he does from the movies, with the knee and breaking the neck?’ Nick joins in.

‘That was so cool, like really cool,’ Cookey says taking the hose from Blowers to wash his own face off.

‘Did you see the dog watching him, she knew he turned…she bloody knew it,’ Chris says, ‘how many bites does she have?’

‘Loads,’ Clarence replies.

‘We need to watch her like a hawk, Dave if she even looks like she’s going to turn…’

‘I’m on it,’ Dave cuts me off, standing close with a knife in his hand.

‘You can’t kill her,’ Chris says.

‘If she turns I bloody can.’

‘She’s bitten all over, look at the wounds…no sign of turning…’

‘Doesn’t mean she won’t though Chris, could be a delayed reaction or something.’

‘How we getting her back?’ He asks.

‘She can come with us, Dave’ll be right next to her.’

‘Howie she might hold the cure for this thing, you cannot kill her.’

‘He’s right boss,’ Clarence cuts in.

‘And what if she turns? What good will she be then?’

‘She’ll still have her blood inside her!’ Chris shouts.

‘Okay, Dave don’t kill the dog unless you have to.’

‘Okay Mr Howie.’

‘Everyone else okay? Check for wounds and cuts, that was a fucking fight and a half that was…where the hell did they get that energy and power from?’

‘Mutating, it must be learning to get them stronger,’ Tom adds, ‘the flu virus mutates and changes every year doesn’t it, my nan had to go the doctors every winter to get a jab as the one from last year wouldn’t protect her.’

Torches get shined onto each other’s bodies as we check for cuts, using the hose to rinse the filth and gore off.  The dog rests on the grass next to us, watching with interest and panting heavily with her mid-section covered in white bandages.

‘All clear,’ Clarence finishes checking Chris, handing me the hose so I can do Lani.  I check her arms, neck and face thoroughly.  Hosing her skin off and making sure none of her clothes are ripped or torn.  She does me after while Nick breaks out the cigarettes and passes them round.  Dave standing close to the dog with a knife still held in his hand and staring down at her intently.

She lifts her head and stares back at him.  The rest of us come to a stop as we watch them lock eyes.  Neither flinching or looking away.  Two killers of pure instinct staring at each other.  Dave cocks his head to one side, frowning.  The dog closes her mouth and does the same, cocking her head and staring back.  Like some fierce competition taking place.  Both of them trying to judge who is the most powerful, the most deadly.  It goes on for a few seconds, silence from the rest of us as we watch with interest.

Then the spell is broken as the dog turns away to sniff at the bandages, Dave shrugs and looks up, surprised to see us all watching him.

‘What?’ He asks.

‘Nothing,’ Clarence replies for us as we all turn away quickly and find something else to do.

‘Can she walk?’ I ask as we get ready to go.

‘Yes,’ Dave replies, ‘come on,’ he speaks flatly to the dog.  She gets to her feet and follows behind him into the house, walking straight through the rest of us with barely a glance.

‘Fuck, you wouldn’t pick a fight with them two would you,’ Chris whispers.

‘Let’s go,’ I say in reply  We file out of the garden, stepping over the corpses of the undead.  I spare a few seconds to look down at the remains of Paco.  Wondering why he was here but giving thanks for his bravery in protecting the dog.  If he hadn’t come over that wall when he did this would have ended badly.  Hard man, I always thought his movies were good but never realised he could do that stuff in real-life too.  Pity, he would have been a great asset in our team.

Shaking my head I walk through the house and into the street, following the others as we file back to the Saxon.  Dave and the dog already stood by the open back doors.

‘Ready for that swim?’ I call out.

‘Too bloody right,’ Clarence laughs.

‘What swim?’ Chris asks.

‘Mr Howie has been promising us a swim all day..’ Cookey explains.

‘And a cold beer,’ Blowers adds.

‘And a take-away,’ Nick joins in.

‘I never said anything about a take-away,’ I laugh back at them.

‘Well I reckon you’ve earned it,’ Chris says.

‘Yeah right,’ Cookey laughs, ‘you say that now but something else will happen…’

‘Always bloody does,’ Blowers chuckles.

‘Every half hour isn’t it Mr Howie?’ Nick asks.

‘Fact,’ I reply with a smile.

We load up slowly, the heat and exhaustion making us sluggish.  The back doors are left open, the dog settling down on the floor and sleeping as Dave rests next to her, his eyes never leaving her face.

Clarence takes the front with me as we pull away, leading the way through the town back to our fort.

I don’t think I have ever felt this tired before.  My eyes sting from exhaustion, my limbs feel detached.  Clarence is already dozing off, Nick up top on the GPMG.

‘You look like you need this,’ Lani says behind me, passing me another sugary energy drink.

‘What a night,’ I reply with a yawn.

‘It’s not over yet,’ she whispers softly in my ear as her hand rests on my shoulder.  A huge grin spreads across my face and suddenly I don’t feel quite so sleepy.

FORTY-SIX

She rests in the big thing, her eyes closed but ears pricked.  The loss of another pack leader was hard.  She felt the love coming from the man at the end.  She’d watched him change in those few days.  Full of fear and panic but he became a man, a leader, strong and true and someone she would follow.

She felt his life cease.  The heartbeat that ended and the energy that expired.  What came back wasn’t the man.  It was one of the things and it had to be destroyed.  There was no confusion about this, no mixed feeling.

The pack around her was strong.  She sensed their unity and strength.  They fought and moved like a pack.  Sensing each other with instinct.  Her own pack ceased when the man died but they were quickly upon her.  Giving her water, stroking and fussing her.  They made noises like her first pack, they tended her wounds which hurt but she was thirsty she didn’t care for the pain.  At the centre of attention from this pack she felt a strange connection developing.  The way they moved around her, they were showing her they wanted her in their pack.

She rested on the grass, watching and listening to them around her.  One stood close.  He was smaller than the others but the energy he gave off was incredible.  Primal without an ounce of fear.  She stared at his eyes, staring into his soul.  Not a flicker of reaction.  Pure positive energy emanating from him.  No confusion of emotions that the people so often show.

Only he wasn’t the pack leader.  His energy poured towards the other man.  The one with the dark eyes.  The one that the others listened to and watched so intently.

She felt his presence during the fight and she wasn’t the only one.  The things felt his presence too.  They feared him.  They didn’t show it but she could sense it.

The things feared him.

He was the leader.

DAY TWELVE

One

Day Twelve

Tuesday

My eyes snap open; I’m sitting up breathing heavily with sweat pouring down my face.  I must have been dreaming but already the images have drained from my mind just leaving the after effects. It feels early, that essence of the day when you can just tell it’s still morning.

Lani’s bed looks unused, we cradled on my mattress last night, crying into each-other’s arms until we fell asleep. The memory of what happened hits me like a sledgehammer, my head sinks as I groan.

Easing myself to the side of the mattress I look for my trousers, then remember I washed them late last night and left them outside to dry with my boots.  I rub my face trying to get my thoughts in order. Opening my eyes I see my trousers are folded up next to the door, my boots on top of them.  Someone must have put them in while I slept.

Quietly, and with a heavy heart I push my legs through the dry and stiff material of the trousers, at least they’re clean now.  Clean socks and then my boots.  Walking out I see the others in the main room, no one is talking.  The loss weighs heavy on all of us. The success of getting the dog and then that happens.

‘Coffee,’ Lani walks over holding a cup out towards me.  I take it gratefully and sip at the warm bitter liquid.

‘Thanks,’ my voice is hoarse and rough.  The dog gets up from lying in the corner and walks towards me wagging her tail and panting lightly.

‘Amy’s been in and checked the wounds, she’s fine,’ Lani says quietly.

‘Who’s Amy?’

‘The vet, we met her last night when we got back…’her voice trails off, the memory still clear in her mind.

‘Is that her name? I didn’t know.’

‘She seems nice,’ Lani says distantly.

‘Yeah…’ I sigh and sip at the coffee again.

‘You okay Howie?’ She asks with a sudden and intense glare, her eyes locked on mine. I nod back.

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ she says quietly but with force.  My hand drops down to rub the top of the dog’s head.  Her ears twitch as she pushes against my hand enjoying the fuss.  Looking down at her brown eyes, the long pink tongue hanging out, her soft fur under my fingers.  She doesn't realise the sacrifice we made for her.  The cost to all of us.  What we did, what we had to do.

‘Hello?’ A young lad appears at the door, leaning in and looking at everyone in awe, his eyes lingering on the weapons scattered about, axes, knives, assault rifles and kit bags.

‘What’s up?’ I ask him.

‘Sergeant Hopewell said the meeting is about to start, she asked me to come and tell you,’ he explains quickly, obviously nervous at being sent to speak to us.

‘Okay, I’ll be down in a minute,’ I reply.

‘She said to tell you they need to get on with it,’ he says lightly.

‘Mr Howie said he’d be there in a minute,’ Dave cuts in quickly with a hard glare at the poor lad who nods and runs off.  I feel sorry for the kid but I can’t muster the energy to say anything to Dave.

I sigh again before draining my coffee and rubbing the sleep from my eyes, ‘I’ll go down.’

‘I’ll come,’ Dave stands up.

‘Is that his kit?’ I look at the pile in the corner, the assault rifle and kit bag set apart from everyone else’s like a symbolic gesture.

‘Yes,’ Dave replies in his flat tone.

‘You coming?’ I ask Clarence, he nods silently, stands up and heads out the door.  I follow behind him with a last look at the rifle and kit bag.

We walk down in silence.  The heat is already high with the promise of another sweltering day.  The fort looks busy despite the early hour, the signs of last night still clearly visible.  The atmosphere is muted, just low murmurs of voices drift over to us.  The smell of cooking hangs in the still air, wood smoke and the distinct scent of fish.  They must have started fishing from the back door.

The whole fort stops and watches us walking down, silence descends as they stare.  What we did…what we had to do may be too much for these people.  It feels like the hostility is coming off them in droves.

Reaching the police offices we walk straight in, I was expecting a full house and I was right, everyone seems to be in here. The noise drops off as they see us walking through, the dog sniffing at the ground but otherwise staying close.

I keep my head down, avoiding eye contact as we move into the middle.  Dave stares back as normal but I notice Clarence also keeps his gaze down.  Sergeant Hopewell stands at the end with Ted, Chris, Sarah, Terri and a few others.  Doc Roberts is already present, so is Kelly and Amy the vet.

Chris nods at me with a brief smile, Sarah and some of the others smile too, but I notice a few keep very straight faces as they avoid eye contact.  The atmosphere is charged, the tension palpable.

‘Everyone here?’ Sergeant Hopewell calls out, glancing round, ‘good then we can make a start…what the hell happened last night?’ She snaps at me, getting straight to the point.

‘Debbie take it easy,’ Chris says quietly.

‘It’s okay Chris,’ I say quickly.  My voice trails off as I think to the events, of what we did, what I did…and in front of so many people too.

‘Well…’ Sergeant Hopewell demands.

‘Chris said Paco Maguire was there?’ Sarah asks softly.

‘We’ve heard that bit from Chris,’ Sergeant Hopewell snaps, ‘I think we need to hear the rest now…’ Glancing up I can see the anger set into her face, pursed mouth and scowling.

‘I want to hear it all,’ Doc Roberts cuts in with surprising patience, ‘it might be relevant to all of us.’

‘We know they got the dog, we know about the big fight…we know about Paco Maguire…there’s no need to go back over that…’ She speaks slowly through gritted teeth, the hostility pouring off her.

‘Okay, let me explain…’ I interrupt.

‘I think you bloody should explain,’ she shouts.  The patronising tone sets me off, the anger coursing instantly through my system.  I glare back at her, unblinking with a fixed gaze.  Feet shuffle in the uncomfortable silence, I can feel the energy pouring off Dave and Clarence next to me.  The tension reaches the dog who gives a low growl.

‘Keep hold of that bloody dog,’ someone shouts.  Dave’s hand drops down to grip the makeshift collar on her neck.  Just a leather trouser belt cut to size.

I take a deep breath, lower my eyes and get control of myself. They have a right to know.

With a stilting voice I start to explain…

Two

‘Is she okay?’

‘She seems fine,’ Lani calls back.

‘Is the blood coming through her bandages?’ Clarence asks, twisting round in his seat to look down the dark interior of the Saxon.

‘No,’ Dave answers simply.

‘See if she wants some more water,’ Blowers urges.

‘She’s got water,’ Dave replies.

‘Maybe she’s hungry,’ Cookey cuts in as he rustles in his bag, ‘here try this.’

‘You can’t give chocolate to a dog, it’s bad for them,’ Blowers says.

‘Is it?’ Cookey answers.

‘Have you got chocolate?’ Nick asks quickly, ‘I’m fucking starving and you’ve got chocolate in your bag.’

‘You’re always starving Nick,’ Cookey replies, passing the bar to Nick.

‘Ha! Cheers mate,’ Nick says gleefully ripping the wrapper off and taking a big bite.

‘Yeah share it round then Nick,’ Lani adds in a sarcastic tone.

‘Sorry, you want some?’ Nick says with a mouthful.

‘Yeah all of it,’ Lani lunges for the bar quickly pulled back with a yelp by Nick.

‘Piss off,’ Nick laughs.

‘Almost had it,’ Lani laughs.

‘So are all Alsatians immune then or just this one?’ Cookey asks.

‘German Shepherd,’ Dave says.

‘Don’t know mate,’ I call back, ‘I haven’t seen any others.’

‘So what happens now?’ Cookey continues, ‘do they like take her blood and put it in us or something?’

‘You fucking twat,’ Blowers laughs.

‘What?’ Cookey replies innocently.

‘Yeah they just inject her blood into your arm and it makes you immune,’ Blowers keeps on.

‘That’s what they do in the movies,’ Cookey huffs.

‘Unbelievable,’ Blowers chuckles.

‘Yeah so what do they do then?’ Cookey asks in a challenging tone.

‘Well, they got to…you know…do tests and stuff,’ Blowers answers with a faltering tone.

‘Yeah…you know…tests and stuff,’ Cookey says, imitating Blowers voice and getting laughs from everyone else, ‘what tests then Einstein?’

‘Well I don’t fucking know, but I know they don’t just inject her blood in you, fuck you might as well just bite her leg if that was the case.’

‘I’d like to see that,’ Tom says.

‘Piss off, the size of her! I’m not biting her leg,’ Cookey replies, ‘Mr Howie….’ He yells.

‘I don’t know either before you ask,’ I reply.

‘But you know everything.’

‘Probably something to do with anti-bodies, the dog must have anti-bodies that kill the virus, so they’ll need to work out how she does it and then create a safe vaccine using  a dose of the virus already made inert by her defences,’ I reply, thinking out loud.

‘So you did know,’ Clarence mutters.

‘Just guessing, isn’t that what they do with the flu vaccine?’

‘Something like that I think,’ he replies.

‘So…they take a sample from her cells, or her body or whatever and they make a vaccine from it….then that vaccine gets given to everyone else…is that right?’ Cookey asks slowly in a loud voice.

‘Probably something like that, I don’t know…’

‘Ha in your fucking face Blowers, so they do give the dog’s blood to everyone.’

‘Oh my god,’ Blowers sighs as Lani, Tom and Nick start cracking up.

‘If all Alsatians are immune does that mean we’ve got to go and find more of them?’ Nick asks.

‘German Shepherds,’ Dave adds.

‘I don’t know,’ I reply again.

‘What happens to the dog now?’ Cookey persists.

‘I don’t bloody know mate,’ I reply with a groan.

‘No I mean where does she live? Like with us or somewhere else?’

‘I don’t….actually that’s a good question.’

‘She should stay with us,’ Lani calls out, ‘she’ll be safer.’

‘Why us?’ Tom asks.

‘We’ve got Dave and Clarence,’ she replies matter of fact.

‘Oh…fair one,’ Tom replies.

‘That’s a good point,’ I say to Clarence.

‘But the medics will want her for tests and stuff,’ Clarence replies.

‘Only to take samples, other than that she should stay with us.’

‘That would mean we stay in the fort then, we can’t afford to take her outside with us.’

‘Then we’ll have to stay in the fort, someone else can go out for supplies,’ I reply.

‘Not in our Saxon though,’ Blowers cuts in quickly.

‘This is our vehicle,’ Nick adds forcefully.

‘Er…who is on the GPMG?’ I call back.

‘I said to stay inside the vehicle for the trip back Mr Howie,’ Dave replies.

‘I think the Saxon should stay with the dog with someone on the GPMG all the time, we take turns and keep a guard on her,’ I say.

‘They’ve got another heavy machine gun now, they could use that,’ Clarence says.

‘What for protecting the dog or going out for supplies?’

‘Either,’ he shrugs, ‘the engineers should be able to rig a frame for it on something, a pick up maybe.’

‘I think we should stay with the dog, we’ve got this far together.’

‘It should go on the wall facing out to the estate,’ Dave says.

‘Eh? What should?’ I ask him, confused.

‘The other GPMG, it should be set on the wall in case they come again...when they come again.’

‘You think they’ll come again Dave?’ Blowers asks.

‘What was the population of this country?’ Dave asks.

‘About fifty million…something like that,’ Clarence replies.

‘Fifty million people, where are they all? We saw how many were in that town.  We might have killed a lot but compared to the population…’

‘They’re not all zombies though,’ Nick cuts in, ‘plenty of survivors and loads must have been killed too.’

‘True, but that still leaves many,’ Dave replies.

‘And if they continue to mutate, what’s to stop them all becoming like Smithy or that Marcy woman,’ Blowers says quietly.

‘We’d be fucked,’ Nick sighs deeply.

‘Fuck ‘em, we’ll win…we’ve got Missy Elliot on loudspeaker…no one can defeat us now,’ Cookey says happily, adding an evil laugh at the end.

‘We still going for a swim when we get back?’ Lani asks.

‘Oh yes,’ I call out, ‘once we’ve got the dog sorted…’

‘Weapons and kit first,’ Dave intones to a few jokey groans.

‘This heat has wiped me out,’ Blowers moans quietly, ‘I feel fucked.’

‘Can we get those girls if we go for a swim?’ Cookey asks.

‘Yeah right,’ Nick laughs, ‘we’ll go tent to tent until we find them…nothing odd with asking two strange girls to come for a swim in the middle of the night.’

‘I bet that Julie would look fit in a bikini,’ Cookey says.

‘Hey she might go topless,’ Lani joins in goading Cookey.

‘Really? Wow…yeah they might not have packed their bikini’s and will be like “oh Cookey but we don’t have our swimsuits” and I’ll be like “hey just go topless” and they’ll be like “oh great idea Cookey but only if you promise to keep that pervert Blowers away from us” and I’ll be like “hey ladies don’t worry Blowers doesn't like girls…he’ll be looking at my arse not yours”

‘Fucking hell,’ Blowers groans.  Tears of laughter spill from my eyes as Cookey keeps on with the self-narration, talking himself into believing all the girls of the fort will be running out to jump around topless in the sea with him.

‘Blowers, you okay?’ Nick asks with a concerned tone.

‘Fine mate, just fucked from all this running about in this heat, has anyone got an energy drink?’

‘Here,’ Lani passes one from her bag.

‘I feel ropey too,’ Tom says with a groan.

‘What like shaky and a bit weak?’ Blowers asks, ‘me too,’ he adds at Tom nodding.

‘Heat exhaustion,’ Clarence says, ‘get some fluids down, you need glucose…how do you put the air con on in these things?’ He examines the switches and finds the right one, turning it on high.

‘Oh that’s nice,’ Lani calls out at the cool air filling the vehicle.

‘Alex how do you feel?’ Dave asks.

‘Fine Dave, I feel fine…tired but okay other than that,’ Cookey answers in a serious tone, not daring to be flippant.

‘Nick?’ Dave asks.

‘Fine Dave, hungry and tired but okay.’

‘Lani?’

‘I’m okay Dave, same as the others, just hot and tired.’

‘Mr Howie?’ He calls out.

‘Fine mate,’ I reply.

‘Me too,’ Clarence adds.

‘Just you two losers then,’ Cookey jokes and gets promptly told to piss off by both Tom and Blowers.

‘Almost there,’ I call out as we pass through the estate.  We enter the flatlands with Cookey giving us another running commentary on how he’s going to woo the two pretty girls he saw at the cash and carry.

‘Chris to the fort,’ the radio crackles to life.

‘Fort to Chris, go ahead, is that you coming down the road?’

‘Chris to fort, yes two vehicles coming in, we’ve got the dog…inform Doc Roberts, we’ve had heavy contact so we’ll need the examination tents up and running, get some cold water at the gates for us too.’

‘Fort to Chris, roger that…’

‘He thinks of everything,’ I admire to Clarence.  We pull up a few metres back from the gates and ease ourselves out of the vehicle into the stifling heat of the night air.  The contrast from the air-conditioned vehicle hits all of us with audible groans.

The dog bounds out from the back, running about to sniff the ground before she drops her back end down and takes a long piss.

‘At least she didn’t go in the vehicle,’ I remark watching the puddle pooling out from under her back feet.  She finishes and twists round to sniff at her urine for a few seconds, then seemingly satisfied she continues her general sniff about as the outer gate opens.

‘Is that her?’ Doctor Roberts’ voice booms out as he strides towards us with Sergeant Hopewell and a few others.  Sarah runs past him, heading towards us and coming to a sudden stop as the dog spins round to fix them with a hard stare.

‘Is she okay?’ Sarah asks in a concerned voice.

‘Get her on a lead, she could run off,’ Doctor Roberts walks straight past Sarah towards the dog.  She stands her ground watching him intently as he walks close, stops and stares down at her.

‘Why does she have bandages on her stomach?’ He asks accusingly.

‘She got bit a few times, we cleaned the wounds and put the dressings on,’ Chris replies walking over from his vehicle.

‘Bit?’ The Doctor enquires.

‘Yeah bit…with teeth…’ Chris replies too quickly, getting a fierce glare from the doctor in response.

‘How long ago?’

‘Maybe just over an hour or so,’ I reply with a shrug.

‘And she hasn’t turned,’ he nods, crouching down and letting the dog come to him.  He stays still as the dog sniffs his legs and hands, all the time staring at her eyes.  Eventually he slides a small torch from the top pocket of his white lab coat and shines it on the dog’s face, in her eyes, ears and down her sides.

‘Right, we need to check her over, where’s the vet?’ He stands up quickly.

‘Here, and I’m not a vet…I wasn’t qualified,’ a young woman with pulled back blonde hair steps forward.

‘You are now,’ the Doctor answers curtly, ‘you…give me your belt,’ he turns on one of his medical staff stood nearby.

‘Eh? What?’ The poor man stammers.

‘Your belt, give me your belt,’ the Doctor shouts.  The man fumbles his fingers, undoing the clasp before sliding it out of his belt loops.  The Doctor snatches the item away and fashions it into a collar for the dog.

‘Knife,’ he barks holding a hand out.  Dave steps forward at hearing his favourite word and cuts the belt in the place indicated by the Doctor.

‘Good, now you give me your belt,’ he turns on another member of his staff.

‘I’m not wearing one,’ the man replies quietly.

‘Then go and bloody get one,’ he shouts, tutting as the man runs off towards the gate.

‘You had contact then?’ Sergeant Hopewell asks.

‘Yeah, heavy too, they were charged up like crazy,’ I reply.

‘Everyone okay?’ Sarah asks.

‘I’m sure we can hold this mothers meeting later, it’s the middle of the night and some of us like to sleep during the hours of darkness,’ Doctor Roberts cuts in, ‘if no one has been hurt then we’ll get the examinations done.’ He takes the belt offered to him by the flustered looking medic and fastens it to the make-shift collar.  The dog pants away while he does it until he steps back holding the lead and clicking his tongue, leading the dog towards the fort.

‘I thought the dog was staying with us all the time,’ Clarence says quietly.

‘Do you want to tell him that?’ I reply.

‘No thanks.’

‘Do you want me to get her?’ Dave offers to quick glances from Clarence and I.

‘No mate, she’ll be okay for a minute,’ I say as an image of Dave and Doctor Roberts facing up to each other fills my mind.

‘Come through to the middle, we’ll get you checked over,’ Sergeant Hopewell calls out as she heads back through the gate.

We traipse through with heavy legs, the tiredness really plucking at us now.  I go first, entering a tent with two medics ready to check me over.  We go through the procedure quite quickly, stripping off while they shine torches onto my skin, into my ears, up my nose and backside.  On leaving I see Lani has already gone into another examination tent.  Dave goes after me as someone comes out to say they’ve got another one rigged up.

We stand about drinking water and chatting quietly, Nick hands smokes around.  Blowers and Tom both sit down on the floor, clearly struggling after the hectic day we’ve had.

‘Who’s left to go?’ Clarence asks as he comes out.

‘Blowers and Tom,’ I reply.

‘I’m going back to the vehicle, it’s cooler in there,’ he mutters.  The rest follow him out, leaving the three of us.

‘Tom you go next mate,’ Blowers says.

‘Do you want me to stay?’ Dave asks.

‘No you carry on Dave, start getting the kit done so they can chill out quicker.’

‘Okay Mr Howie,’ he strolls out after the others.

‘You alright mate,’ I ask as Tom gets unsteadily to his feet, swaying a little.

‘Whoa,’ he grins sheepishly, ‘sorry…I felt a bit dizzy.’

‘Is he okay?’ One of the medics rushes over to support Tom.

‘Heat exhaustion, they both said they felt rough on the way back, weak and shaking a bit.’

‘You should have said something, we would have got them in first,’ the medic chastises me.  He leads Tom away and calls out to his mate inside to assist Blowers into the next tent.

‘I’m fine,’ Blowers says indignantly, getting to his feet and marching towards the other tent, leaving me smiling at his stubbornness.

I stand alone for the first time in ages, enjoying the peace and quiet, the low murmur of voices in the background, the stars in the sky, smoking a cigarette and feeling pleasantly tired at getting the dog safely back to the fort.  Something decent and promising now awaits us.  We just need fuel for the generators and then wait while they do tests, and it gives us a reason to stay in the fort for a day or so.  The lads need to relax and unwind a bit.  I smile to myself at the thought of the lads hanging round whatever tent those two girls are in.

A strangled yell comes from one of the examination tents at the same time as I hear Meredith starting to bark. I ditch the smoke and move towards it just as two figures fall out of the entrance flap.  They roll across the ground fighting as I realise one of the medics is attacking Tom.  I rush in and drag the man off, beating him with my fists as Tom squirms and breaks free.  I catch a quick glance through the tent flap at the other medic lying on the floor clutching a large bite wound to his neck.

‘Not me…’ the medic I’m holding gasps.  I spin round to see Tom turning to run towards the inner gate, a quick flash of his face illuminated by the generator lights, blood round his mouth, dripping down his chest.

‘TOM,’ I bellow with as the sudden realisation hits me, he doesn't flinch but keeps running, slamming into the unlocked gate.  I run after him, drawing my pistol and firing two quick shots.  The rounds strike the wooden frame as he disappears into the fort.

‘DAVE,’ screaming at the top of my voice, I reach the gate and plough through to see people running towards the gates and Tom sprinting towards the tent.  Within a split second the knowledge of what he could do if he reaches the masses hits me, with no other choice I raise my pistol and fire at his back while running after him.  The rounds miss Tom, whizzing into the densely packed living area of the tents.

He powers into the tents, lunging at a man stood there watching with a look of horror.  He takes the man down quickly as my pistol clicks empty.  Cursing I eject the magazine and slam a new one home, Tom is up, running off.  The man he bit lies squirming on the ground.  I pause long enough to shoot the man through the skull before taking off after Tom.  More bodies lie bleeding from being hit by my missed shots.  Tom turns quickly into a lane running between the tents.  I’m screaming for everyone to run while trying to get a shot at him.  He roars and lunges into a large open ended tent.  His movements are quick and deadly, taking bites out of necks, faces, shoulders…anything he can get his mouth onto.  Several have been bitten by him.  His actions driving him on to get as many bites as he can.  I keep after him, pausing to fire into the heads of the victims with bite wounds.  Men, woman and children are bitten and then shot by me, screaming as loud as I can for someone to stop him.

Two men run out from the side, powering into Tom.  Having to stop and shoot the bite victims has made the distance between us greater.  The two men take Tom to the ground, landing in a heap of writhing bodies.

Tom lashes out, gouging, biting and fighting desperately.  He bites into both of them as they squirm on the ground.  I fire into the mass, the rounds striking all three bodies.  The pistol clicks empty as I get to them.  I go for Tom first, slamming the pistol butt down into his face over and again.  He fights like a demon, ignoring the blows and scrabbling to get up from under the bodies of the men.  I jump up and use my feet to stamp down on his head, kicking him as hard as I can.

‘GIVE ME THAT KNIFE,’ I scream at a man stood there holding a long bladed butchers knife.  He jolts forward, giving Tom enough time to surge up and away from the bodies.

Snatching the knife I take after him, his injuries slowing him down enough for me to drive my shoulders into the back of his legs, bringing him down to the ground.  He twists as he falls, landing on his back. I get one hand under his chin and push his head away from me, his lips are pulled back baring his gnashing teeth.  Blood and spittle flies from his mouth, I twist my own head away avoiding the bodily fluids. I stab down again and again, the blade slamming into his chest.  He ignores the blows, his arms lashing and beating at my sides.  I drive the point of the knife through his throat, hacking and sawing away, ripping his jugular out.  He goes limp and I’m up, running back to the two men groaning on the ground.

‘GET BACK….MOVE BACK NOW,’ I scream as people rush into help them.  Some of them respond, one woman doesn't and gets punched hard to the face, sending her reeling away. I kick out others, forcing them away from the downed bodies.  Confusion erupts as people try to pull me off, I lash out punching and hitting them away from me, desperate to get to the two men before they turn.

‘MR HOWIE,’ Dave roars as he sprints through the tents followed by the others.

‘TOM TURNED, HE BIT PEOPLE….FIND THEM…’ I scream back.  Blowers and Cookey run to me, both of them holding their pistols at the ready.

‘Those two….on the ground…they’ve been bitten,’ I yell while fighting the people off who are trying to restrain me.

The lads run in, firing their pistols into the heads of the bodies.  Blowers runs to the body of Tom, firing point blank into his skull.

‘GET BACK NOW…MOVE BACK,’ Cookey shouts, waving his pistol at the people crowding round me.  The gunshots do the trick as they wilt back from him. I change my magazine quickly as Blowers comes back and checks the bodies again.

‘Was anyone else bitten?’ I ask the people near me, they look at each other, some screaming in grief at the men, others slack jawed and not responding.  I shine my torch from body to body, checking for blood and bite wounds.  One woman is stood staring at her bloodied hands, her face frozen in shock.  I check her hands, yelling at other people to get water and clean the blood off quickly.

A few spring to action, grabbing the woman and pouring water bottles over her hands.  She starts screaming and fighting against them.  They pin her down to complete the task.

More single shots ring out as the others work the route of devastation we just went through.

A guard arrives holding a shotgun, his breathing laboured from sprinting across the fort.

‘These three bodies are infected…don’t let anyone touch them,’ I shout at him, making sure he understands before moving off with Blowers and Cookey, working back along the trail Tom took.

An adult woman screams hysterically clutching a young girl with a bite wound to her cheek.  She sits rocking back and forth, holding the child in her arms.  I run towards them, seeing the girl is unconscious or dead, either way she could turn any second.  The woman sees me coming and holds the child tighter, screaming at me as I try to pull the child away from her.

Others try to help, prising the woman’s grip from the child, begging her to let go.  She fights back, staggering to her feet and spinning round.  The child comes back, twitching, convulsing.  She opens her red bloodshot eyes and sinks her small teeth into the woman’s shoulder.  She screams, dropping down as I shoot the child first and the woman second.

Glancing round I see Blowers punching someone in the face, beating them back while Cookey shoots a body on the ground.

We work quickly, screams and utter panic ripping through the fort.  ‘MOVE BACK….GO TO THE BACK…’ Chris bellows, others take the order up.  Dave, Clarence and the guards all shouting for everyone to move away.  I don’t like the idea as it means anyone with a bite will be amongst the masses being moved away, but within seconds they’re running away from the area, flooding to the rear and spreading the panic throughout the whole fort.

What’s done is brutal and violent.  I shoot several still living people in the head as they scream and beg, others fighting their families to stay back.  Corpses are shot, anyone with a bite wound is shot.  It’s utterly brutal and the most horrific awful thing I have ever known, but it is done from necessity.

‘Clear,’ Dave shouts to me, ‘they’re all shot.’  We start to gather together at the entrance to the lane Tom ran down.  Shotgun blasts sound from the rear, more screams erupt accompanied by loud shouts.

‘HOWIE….THE DOG…’ Doctor Roberts shouts from somewhere near the front.  I turn to see Meredith bounding through the tents, the white of her bandages reflecting the low lights.  For a second my heart stops with the thought that she’s turned.  She appears panting, her hackles up and teeth showing but otherwise normal.  She fixes her gaze at towards the rear, growling low which rises to a deep bass sound, she starts barking, sprinting alongside us as we run towards the rear.

A whole mass of people, hundreds, maybe thousands all running into one area.  Tents get ripped up, people trip over ropes and lines, cooking fires get knocked over, bedlam everywhere.  Shots ring out but we’ve no idea of who is shooting who.

‘Dave, shout for a ceasefire…’ I call out to him.

‘CEASEFIRE…CEASEFIRE….’ His enormous voice carries clearly across the fort.

‘Blowers and Cookey, get the Saxon in here…Clarence you stay with that dog, Dave I want you to call for everyone to get down onto the ground…do it now.’

‘DOWN ON THE GROUND…GET DOWN….GET DOWN NOW….’ He continues bellowing into the crowd.  The effect is slow at first as the nearest start dropping down.  The ones behind them realise what’s going on and start going down too.  Dave keeps going, roaring the order out.  Clarence joins him, their two voices driving the order into the crowd.

They sink down slowly, people dropping down to lie with their arms covering their heads.  Adults drag screaming children to the floor, holding them close.  Families group together, strangers cling to each other through sheer terror.

Slowly, bit by bit they drop down.  Dave and Clarence continue to scream the order out.  Within a few seconds we can see a small group over to the side, writhing in a melee.  We head that way with Dave and Clarence still repeating the order.  Pistols aimed and ready, Meredith bounds forward with incredible speed.  She launches into the bodies, taking out an undead by the throat and dragging the body away from the crowd to rip its throat out.  We get in, trying to pick our shots.  In the end the whole of them are cut down by pistol shots.  We have no choice but to fire into them all.  The dog launches again, taking another one down.

Within a few seconds there are just the guards, Chris, the police and us still standing.  Everyone else is down on the ground.

‘Everyone stay down…you’re going to be okay….if you see anyone with a bite mark then shout out clearly but please stay down….’ I move amongst them shouting out, Chris and the others join me, we walk steadily with pistols drawn and shining our torches down into the terrified faces.

The Saxon’s deep engine rumbles closer as it drives along the side of the crowd, coming to a stop near the rear.

‘Nick…on the GPMG… Blowers and Cookey hand out the rifles,’ I shout, glancing at Nick running towards the vehicle.  Our assault rifles get handed round, Chris taking one and walking over towards me.

‘What now?’ I shout at him.

‘Howie…Chris…’ Doctor Roberts strides towards us, still wearing his white lab coat, ‘we need to check everyone…we’ll set up an examination point by the vehicle…’

I head over to the Saxon and grab the hand held microphone to use the loudspeaker system, cursing loudly as I flick the switch and Missy Elliot booms out.  It takes a couple of seconds for Nick to drop down and do something with the wires before handing me the microphone with an apology.

‘Everyone listen up…we’re going to get everyone checked… we need you to stay down until we come and get you, women and children will be first…stay calm but please stay down on the floor…’ I relay the instruction a few times.  Doctor Roberts gets his staff up to the rear, setting lights and tables up next to the vehicle.  Sergeant Hopewell finally arrives with Terri and Jane, demanding to know what happened.  Chris takes her aside, explaining what took place.  She stares at me throughout his talking, Terri and Jane both bursting into tears at the news of Tom.

There isn’t time to dwell, Doctor Roberts works quickly organising his staff.  The grumpy character replaced by a very calm manner full of authority.  Kelly and the pharmacist are amongst them, getting instruction from the Doctor as he tells them what to check for.

A couple of minutes later and we’re starting to send the closest ones over.  The checks are done quickly, lights shined into eyes and mouths, looking for wounds and any tears in clothes.

Hearing whimpers I turn to see the dog moving amongst the people, her nose down and sniffing as though she’s searching for the undead.  Dave goes over to her and grips her collar, he says something quietly and she sits, staring out and staying by his side.

The adrenalin starts to wear off, leaving a gaping hole in my conscious.  I can’t seem to process the order of events, one minute I was stood there looking at the stars and thinking ahead to a swim and then being alone with Lani, the next thing and I’m shooting people in the face, living people with such small wounds that would’ve seen them waiting for hours in any hospital emergency department.

Shaking my head I switch on and focus on the task in hand.  The survivors get taken down, families going together under the close watch of the guards and my lads.  Lani stays near the medics, Cookey and Blowers walk through the crowds re-assuring everyone that they’ll be okay.  Clarence walks between them and the guards, accompanied by Sarah now holding a pistol.  I didn’t even know she could use one.  Everyone seems to be armed now with pistols or shotguns.

The checks are done surprisingly fast.  As more of the crowd are cleared, so more of the people are recognised to be decent trusted workers who in turn start helping out with the checks.

Kelly organises the removal of the bodies to be taken outside and stacked away from the fort.  Eventually I can see my lot are swaying on their feet, Nick fighting heavy eyes on the GPMG.

I speak to Chris and organise my lot standing down and heading back to our rooms where Tom’s absence becomes even more noticeable.

‘Weapons and kit,’ Dave says as we file in.

‘Tomorrow,’ I reply dully, ‘get some sleep.’

‘But we…’

‘Tomorrow,’ I cut him off.  He nods back.  Everyone heads off to their rooms, poor Nick having to suffer the loss of not having Tom in his room.

In my room I kick my boots and filthy trousers off, shoving another pair on before heading back outside to hose and scrub my trousers down.  The others have all crashed out which is what I should be doing but my mind won’t switch off.  I scrub at the trousers with all my might, removing the traces of blood and gore.

A gentle hand touches my shoulder, I look up to see Lani stood there with a soft look in her eyes.  She takes the trousers from me and wrings them out before draping them on the back of a chair.  Once done she takes my hand and leads me into our room.  I follow her like a sheep, the shock of it all hitting me hard.  She eases me down onto the mattress and pulls my clothes off, no words are spoken. I lie back staring at her, nothing needs to be said.

She strips down to her underwear and eases herself down onto my mattress.  The image of that woman holding her child sticks in my head, the people I shot before they’d turned.  I killed living people as they begged for their lives.

A sudden choke sputters from my throat, Lani pulls me close, turning me onto my side as the tears come.  She wraps her arms round me, drawing me in.  My body wracks with sobs, silent crying with hot tears spilling down my cheeks onto her chest.  She rubs my back gently, the heat from our bodies making us sweat.  I feel her own tears falling onto my cheek.  Her body heaves with sobs as we cling to each other.

We stay like that for eternity.  Two people lost in a world of devastation having done things that no person should ever have to do.  We cry together until we sleep.

Three

‘Let me get this right,’ Sergeant Hopewell says with forced patience as I finish speaking, ‘Tom, who was one of my officers was turned at some point during the fight, you then brought him back and allowed him into the fort…’

‘We didn’t know he was turned…’

‘You then chase after him, discharging your weapon into a densely populated area and shooting innocent people…’

‘But…’

‘Then you kill Tom with a knife while your…team…’ she says the word with venom, ‘…run in shooting everyone that had blood on them.  You caused panic and a virtual stampede of frightened survivors…you then held them on the ground until the medical people could check everyone….is that right?’

‘It wasn’t just Howie, some of those decisions were mine,’ Chris cuts in quickly.

‘Nevertheless,’ she doesn't take her gaze off me, ‘it was Howie’s team that brought Tom back into the fort, it was Howie himself that fired his weapon into the living area and it was Howie and his team that then shot innocent people.’

‘We didn’t have time…’ I start to explain.  Voices murmur around me, the way she says it, her tone and clear voice, the choice of words…it makes it sound so bad.

‘I don’t like the tone of this,’ Clarence rumbles.

‘Debbie, you can’t speak to them like this,’ Sarah cuts in, ‘they did what they had to do…’

‘I will speak how I feel is appropriate in the circumstances. Are you saying that no one can ask Howie to account for the events of last night?’

‘No I didn’t mean that but the way you’re doing it…’ Sarah says.

‘Forgive me for feeling tired, grieving for the loss of another one of my officers and having to deal with this bloody mess…Tom was a fine officer, so was Steven.  They volunteered to go with Howie’s team and look what’s happened to them.  Both of them killed within days of each other…’

‘What?’ I ask with incredulity.

‘That’s out of order,’ Sarah shouts.

‘None of his team have been killed have they? Both Steven and Tom were killed by Howie himself, Steven shot and Tom stabbed to death.’

‘They were fucking zombies,’ Clarence shouts.

‘Were they? How do we know this? Steven had been allegedly bitten…Tom was running through the tents…’

‘He was fucking biting people,’ I join in with the shouting.

‘You saw him fighting with a medic, there was one dead medic already inside the tent but you assumed that Tom was the guilty party causing those injuries…he could have been simply running away.’

‘What? He had blood on his mouth, the medic had been bitten and Tom had fucking blood on his mouth, I shouted at him to stop….the other medic told me it was Tom.’

‘Did he?’ Sergeant Hopewell asks pointedly.

‘Ask him, you must have got his account by now.’

‘We would but he was shot by a member of your team,’ she replies.

‘What?’

‘I shot him, he was bitten,’ Dave says.

‘Oh…’

‘Exactly, so we’ve only got your word that he said Tom had turned.’

‘I saw him…I saw the blood on his mouth, I saw the way he ran…’

‘Running away from you.’

‘Yes! Running away from me.’

‘Running away from a man firing a gun at him.’

‘What? No…I shouted at him to stop, I kept on shouting…Debbie he was attacking people and biting them.’

‘Was he? It was dark and very confusing with many people running around, your team had been out all day in this extreme heat, they were tired and confused, probably suffering from heat exhaustion…you saw Tom running and decided to run after him firing a gun into a densely packed…

‘Too bloody right I did,’ I shout back, ‘Tom had turned, he was one of them.  He was running for the tents and biting people, they take two minutes at the most to turn and the infection is mutating all the time so it could be less now…’

‘How do you know Tom was biting people?’

‘Because I bloody saw him.’

‘You saw a running man actually biting people? After long days spent running around fighting with insufficient food and rest? You actually saw Tom opening his mouth and biting into people.’

‘Yes! I saw Tom biting people, he was lunging at them, his head was sinking down and then he let go and ran on…doing it again and again.’

‘How far back were you?’

‘Maybe twenty, thirty metres…I’m not sure.’

‘That’s quite a distance in the dark, people running everywhere, confusion all around.  I grant you that somebody was biting, we’ve seen the bodies and the bite marks but what concerns me is that you automatically assumed it was Tom, not only that but you took it upon yourself to shoot everyone that had anything that resembled a bite mark or had blood on them….do you know how many people you killed last night? I’ll tell you…over forty people were shot last night, forty people! You killed forty people within the safety of the fort.’

‘They’d been fucking bitten,’ I snarl, ‘those forty…no…just one turned in that lot could infect the whole fort…’

‘Yet you assumed it was Tom.’

‘Debbie, Tom was one of my team.  He was one of us, he was a great lad, brave and courageous…losing him like that is awful but he turned and he put everyone at risk.’

‘Yes someone was turned but my point is that you assumed it was Tom and charged after him like a maniac shooting everyone that got in your way, some of those forty people didn’t have bite marks! Some of them hadn’t been bitten…you shot innocent people,’ she yells with fury.  Her words slam into my mind.

‘It was dark…’ I start to explain, the lack of sleep, the heat, the shock all making my mind fuddled and my words stilted.

‘Yes it was dark, yes it was confusing, yes you had to act quickly…but the way you did it? Firing into crowds of people, shooting survivors just because they had blood on them? You broke a woman’s nose just for trying to help her husband, one of your team broke a man’s jaw punching him away from his daughter…as she was executed by another member of your team.’

‘If she’d been bitten then…’

‘If? If she’d been bitten, so even you’re not sure are you? It was dark and confusing, she could have just had blood on her face yet she was shot dead in front of her family and her father suffered serious injury for simply trying to protect his family.’

‘This is wrong,’ Clarence says but even his voice is low and unsteady.

‘Damn right it is,’ Sergeant Hopewell storms, ‘two more men who helped you subdue Tom, risking their lives after seeing the hero Howie chasing someone…they stepped in and got him down and then you attacked him, let him go and stabbed him to death…you almost cut his head off,’ she screams, ‘then the two men were shot dead.’

‘They’d been bitten.’

‘Had they? Where Howie? Where were the bite marks?’

‘They were covered in blood, one of them was clutching his neck with blood coming out.’

‘And that was a bite was it? It couldn’t have been caused by something sharp cutting him when they took Tom to the ground? The blood might have been Tom’s or someone else’s…but you didn’t wait did you…you ordered your team to execute them without question.’

‘Please just…’

‘What? Just what? Let you explain? I don’t think we need to, we’ve got several thousand people out there who want to string you up?’

‘What?’ I look up to see many of the faces averting their eyes from me.

‘That’s not true,’ Chris sighs, he looks exhausted, completely drained.

‘Not everyone blames Howie,’ Sarah says.

‘True,’ Sergeant Hopewell concedes, ‘Howie still has his supporters but the majority are clearly deciding they hold him and his team to blame.  Without question,’ she locks eyes on me again, ‘your actions led to the death of many innocent people, you didn’t wait for help, you didn’t assess the facts…’

‘There wasn’t time,’ I reply quietly.

‘A trained person would have assessed the situation but that’s where the problem starts, you are not trained are you Howie.  You were a manager at a supermarket less than two weeks ago yet here we are putting all our faith and trust in a supermarket manager leading a bunch of unemployed kids on a rampage round the country, only two of you have training.  Dave, who clearly suffers from learning difficulties and Clarence who seems to hang on every word you say…’

‘What?’ I snarl, the anger surging through me, ‘my team have saved every one of you time and time again.  We put ourselves at risk and did what had to be done.  We went after Darren, we found him and led him away from you so those women and children would have a chance of surviving…we’ve been out day after day getting supplies, fighting those things…’

‘And we thank you for it…but that initial start is over now, that blind panic of getting everything done instantly is over, we have a community with rules…’

‘Where the fuck were you when the fighting was going on? Where were you last night Debbie when the bullets were flying? You didn’t turn up until the end…where the fuck were you on the Isle of Wight when we had to fight Darren…’

‘You didn’t let us fight,’ Terri cuts in, ‘we bloody asked you, we begged you to let us fight but you said no, you said you worked better just with your team…’

‘Howie, there is no doubt that you have sacrificed an enormous amount for us, you have lost the same as the rest of us, but we’re getting back on our feet now.  We’ve got trained and experienced people here who know what they’re doing, we’ve got ex-soldiers and trained military people here…we’ve got engineers and doctors…this is a society now and one that is taking the first tentative steps towards recovery.’

‘I’ve heard enough,’ Chris snaps, stepping forward to stand with his arms folded and a look of determination on his face, ‘I have no doubt that the actions Howie took last night were the right actions, if anything he prevented the spread of the infection to everyone in the fort, forty people died but this isn’t normal times…millions have died already and many more will die but he did what he had to do under the circumstances.  We all did,’ he sighs, ‘I have every faith in Howie and his team and I will not stand by and listen to this…this character assassination…’

‘Chris I…’ Sergeant Hopewell snaps.

‘No! I said I’ve heard enough.  You’ve said too much already.  I’ve seen how Tom was accepted into their team, I fought alongside him last night, alongside all of them.  Anyone of them would have given their life to save that dog, and unlike everyone else who ran away and hid last night…they ran in and did what had to be done, without question, without hesitation…those are the people we need to protect us.’

‘Now listen,’ she rages trying to shout him down.

‘I said NO!’ Chris bellows, spittle flying from his mouth, ‘Tom turned, it could happen to anyone that goes outside and does the things they do every day.  Do you understand that? They take that risk every time they leave this fort but they do it willingly for the good of everyone.  You were more than happy for them to go out and find supplies while the rest of us were safe behind the walls… Tom turned, it could have been from a scratch, a bite, a bit of blood getting in his mouth…he turned and it was our fault he got into the fort.’

‘Our fault?’ She flares in anger.

‘Where were the bloody gate guards? Why was the inner gate unlocked? How did Tom get in?’

‘I accept there were failings in other area’s…’ she starts to reply.

‘Failings in other area’s? This isn’t a review or an investigation.  This is survival, don’t be fooled for one second that because we’ve got these walls we’re safe and everything will go back to how it was…what happened happened…that’s it. We learn from it quickly and make sure the guards stay on their bloody posts in the future.  We set those procedures up for a reason and if we need to make changes then so be it.’

‘I don’t think you understand the intensity of the feelings out there,’ she seethes quietly.

‘Don’t I? Where have I been all night then? Have I not been up all night with you trying to get this sorted out? Don’t condescend to me Debbie I don’t appreciate it nor do I appreciate the manner in which you have vilified Howie and his team.’ Watching Chris now makes me understand why Clarence said he was such a good diplomat, ‘and as for stating Dave has learning difficulties…that man served with the most elite military unit in the world and saying Clarence follows Howie like a sheep is absurd.  Clarence has been with me in every warzone this country has been involved with in the last twenty years.  He is a professional soldier and by taking leadership from Howie he shows the rest of us that Howie has an instinct for the role he does…’ My admiration for the man has just increased tenfold.  I couldn’t understand why he stood back letting Debbie attack us that way, and for a few minutes I honestly thought he agreed with her.  But by hanging back and letting her speak, then stepping forward and asserting control by the use of speech, he shows how skilled he is.

‘The people within the fort have lost faith in Howie and his ability to protect us,’ she states, clearly showing the argument isn’t over.

‘Firstly, we do not entrust the safety of this fort to him.  Not to any one person.  This is a concerted and combined effort by many.  Every person plays an equal part as regards the safety of the fort.  Some people hold guns, others stand on the walls with bows and arrows.  We’ve even got people trained to use the cannon we’ve got left.  Doctor Roberts ensures our safety by vetting everyone that comes in, Terri and Jane do their part by speaking with everyone outside the gates before they enter.  The cooks do their part by making sure all of those people are fed and watered…’ He draws breath, letting his words sink in, ‘secondly, if it wasn’t for Howie and his team as you call them we wouldn’t have this fort.  Darren would have gone through this place like a hot knife through butter.  He would have decimated this place and everything in it.  Howie led the battle and those of us that were on that field know what happened…’

‘Why did Darren come here in the first place?’ Sergeant Hopewell interjects.

‘He came after us,’ I give the reply.

‘So if you hadn’t of come here then neither would he, then we would never have had that battle in which so many innocent lives were lost, we would never have had to go to the Isle of Wight…’

‘You’re being serious aren’t you?’ Chris cuts her off in a disbelieving tone, ‘you really believe that? If it hadn’t been Darren it would have been someone else…and we took out thousands of them, and as for the continued use of the innocent lives phrase that will not work.  We’re all innocent of this, every person that has suffered from this event was innocent so don’t for one second try to make out those people out there play no part in it.’

‘I didn’t mean…’ She starts to explain but gets cut off by Chris in full flow now.

‘Thirdly, Howie’s team have brought us weapons and ammunition when we were down to shotguns, he brought the stock back from the cash and carry and the pharmacies, plus the hospital equipment…and despite the long awful day they had yesterday, which you were so quick to point out, they volunteered to go back out and search for that dog, not only finding it but running miles through streets in this awful heat and then fighting a running battle…anyone of you could have volunteered to go out and search for the dog,’ Chris scans the room, his eyes lingering on faces that suddenly find the floor very interesting, ‘nothing was said by anyone about limiting the number of people to go and search, I never said anything like that…we’ve got vehicles and weapons, so why didn’t you join in? I’ll tell you why…because it’s bloody nasty out there…’

‘How dare you,’ Sergeant Hopewell’s face goes bright red, her mouth pursed with rage.

‘I’ve heard enough,’ I say loudly, surprised at the volume in my own voice, ‘this is bullshit, I’m sorry so many got killed last night, sorry that Tom turned, sorry that Steven died…I’m sorry all of this happened but if you think for one second you stick all the blame on us you can fuck off.’ She blanches at the force in which I spit the words out.  ‘You heard me,’ I glance round staring at the many faces, some look back at me but most cast their eyes away, ‘you can all fuck off…I don’t give a shit what you think about me…I don’t care.  Blame us for what happened last night, go on…blame us,  We’ll take it, and when you’re done patting each other on the back and saying how nasty those brutes are we’ll still be out there killing ‘em.  We don’t have the time to stand here whining, we need fuel for the generators so the Doctor can start doing whatever tests he needs…

‘I haven’t finished,’ Sergeant Hopewell shouts over me.  Something in my manner, the glare in my eyes that fixes on her cuts her off.  The utter fury I can feel bubbling away that seems to radiate from every pore in my body.

‘Yes you have,’ the words come out in a low growl, far harsher than I intended. ‘Ted, you make sure those gates are kept locked and secure with armed guards on both sides.  Kelly, I want you to rig an alarm up, anything will do…something that can be heard throughout the fort and I want everyone drilled in case that happens again…what we did last night, by getting them onto the floor seemed to work…unless anyone has any other sensible suggestions that don’t involve forming a bloody committee and sitting round with bean bags and flip charts…then I suggest we do that again.’

‘You want everyone…’

‘Yes,’ I cut her words off with a glare, ‘if they’d done that last night we would have stood a chance of getting him quicker…get everyone drilled once Kelly has an alarm rigged up. Doctor, let me know if you need anything other than fuel, we’ll get some rest for now and go back out later.’

‘Fuel is the priority,’ he says with a quick nod and I swear a small wry smile twitches on his lips.

‘These are decisions and actions that need to be discussed by trained and experienced people,’ Sergeant Hopewell continues doggedly, ‘you cannot just assume command just because you don’t like something that was said, snatch off a few angry words and stride out thinking everything is alright because it bloody isn’t alright.’

‘The gates need to be kept locked and secure with armed guards on both sides.  I think that much is clear from what happened last night, we don’t need a discussion on it, we just need someone to do it…’

‘My point,’ She ploughs straight on, ‘which you just happen to keep missing, is regardless of whether or not that decision is a good one, it isn’t yours to make.’

‘We’re going round in circles here,’ Chris interrupts, ‘Howie, I see what Debbie is trying to say, I don’t agree with it but I understand it…’

‘Thank you,’ She exclaims, clearly claiming it as a victory, ‘my recommendation after serving over twenty years in the police is that we form a council, one that is made up of all the main personnel and that we discuss and agree any actions as part of that council.’

I groan and rub my face, ‘a bloody committee, I knew this would end up with committee’s being formed.  Will that get us the fuel we need for the machines? Will it get the machine gun mounted on the wall? What about the alarm, will the committee get that done too?’

‘Yes,’ she replies quickly, ‘if the committee, which will be made up of representatives of a wide cross section of our society, so decides that those measures need to be put in place then they will be allocated and actioned.’

Chris steps forward holding a hand up towards me, ‘Howie, I agree with Debbie.  Otherwise we’ll be here all day, right listen in,’ Chris speaks to the room, his voice carrying clearly, ‘everyone please leave and we’ll sort out who is on the initial council. Those that are asked will meet back here in one hour, understood?’

That’s it.  The meeting breaks up, Chris makes a point of striding out the door so he can’t be dragged back into any further discussion.  Sergeant Hopewell is immediately surrounded by people talking at her, Terri and Jane animatedly joining in the conversation.  The three of us head outside wordlessly, Dave leading the dog at his side.

Once out in the sun we fall into step, slowly heading back to our rooms.

‘You alright boss?’ Clarence asks, I can see he is fuming and how he has the presence of mind to ask me if I’m alright is beyond me.

‘Confused mate,’ I reply, ‘seems simple to me, lock the bloody gates and put guards on, stick the GPMG on the wall and get an alarm rigged up.’

‘She looked possessed in there,’ he says quietly, ‘really gunning for us, I bet she’s been out all night whipping everyone up.’

‘This’ll go down well, explaining it to the lads.’

‘No it won’t,’ Dave says, clearly missing the sarcasm.

Four

The infection had already mutated and evolved far beyond the original state. Through billions of host bodies it tried, experimented and learnt how to use the highly complex entity that was the human being.

It knew the human host body could be stopped and re-started and this was done as part of the infection’s manner of taking the host. The infection killed the host then re-started the heart once all the cells were fully contaminated.

The body was then allowed to decay while the infection pushed the body to find more hosts. The rate of decay was slow. Chemicals were used to keep the body functioning and moving. Energy was conserved and built up during the day to allow a sustained and explosive output of animation during the hours of darkness.

Throughout the world, the infection played with the hosts. Trying everything it could to develop and evolve. Without conscious though it drove the hosts to unparalleled abilities for violence and aggression. It suppressed the pain receptors in the brain. It ceased normal cognitive behaviour and independent thought. It flooded the host systems with adrenalin, testosterone, serotonin and hormones. In turn it learnt what chemicals were best mixed to produce hosts that were fast, strong and above all else; were driven to feast.

Very few hosts were an exception to this rule. However, as with Darren and few other carefully chosen hosts, the infection knew it had to develop new methods of preventing such high losses from the host killers and to sustain its own state of being.

A new method was now tried. A method whereby the infection retracted from the body to leave it in the most normal state, allowing the blood flow to continue as normal and the organs to function as before.

The host body did not decay. It did not decompose but stayed as alive as it was before. The heart was simply stopped and re-started.

More than this, the infection became as dormant as possible within the host brain. It left normal cognitive thought processes and allowed the host to think and feel as it had done prior to the turning.

The infection withdrew but it left one desire paramount within the host. That it did whatever was necessary to sustain the infection.

One host was chosen to do this. One host that had been involved with huge losses but had survived. One host that was allowed to continue as they chose.

The infection watched this host carefully and, without the conscious thought of a living entity, it realised this host was different.

As the host progressed and turned more hosts, so the infection allowed those newly infected bodies to remain in the normal state without decay, without odour, without decomposition.

This group was as close to human as possible and under the guidance of one very special host.

Marcy.

Five

‘How many?’ She asks.

His face remains passive but he answers quickly, ‘ninety eight.’

‘There was over a hundred in there?’ She replies, her pace purposefully quick, striding down the centre of the road and making them keep up with her.

‘We lost some,’ he answers with the same passive expression but his tone respectful.

‘Lost some?’ She swallows it down.  Losses were inevitable, they were going to happen time and time again.  Ninety eight was a good number and a few losses were acceptable.  ‘Good work, well done I’m pleased,’ she nods at him.  He remains passive but she knew the pleasure receptors within him would be tingling from her compliment.

‘And you?’ She turns to the man walking on her other side.

He nods eagerly, itching to impress her but waiting until invited to speak, ‘two hundred and twenty six.’

‘Well done that’s very good, an excellent result,’ she nods with respect watching his chest swell with pride.  Glancing across he saw the other man also nodding with respect at him.

‘Barry?’ She asks, keeping her eyes forward and scanning the road ahead.  Another man trotted forward, taking place at her side.

‘Not so good, we only got fifty two,’ he replies with shame.

‘It’s still good Barry, you had a smaller area, we knew your results wouldn’t be as high as the others but fifty eight is still a good number, did you have any difficulties?’

‘Some resistance but mostly it went well,’ Barry answers.

‘And losses?’ She asks him, her tone not accusing but interested.

He too thought for a second before replying, not fearful of giving the answer but the sense of shame evident on his face, ‘twelve,’ he replies quietly.

‘Twelve? That’s quite high for such a small reward, how did they happen?’ She asks.  The other men stare at Barry with looks of sympathy and interest.  Twelve was a high loss for only taking fifty eight.

‘They were armed with some organisation.’

‘I see, and how did you counteract that?’

‘As you advised,’ Barry says quickly, ‘we sent the children in first, it made them pause long enough to get some to the rear and attack both sides at once, after that it was easy.’

‘Good work, so you lost twelve but we gained fifty eight and we learnt a lesson, they don’t like killing the small ones.’

‘No Marcy.’

‘April, how many?’ Marcy calls out.  She keeps walking fast, forcing the others to keep up with her relentless pace on the wide road bordered by high hedgerows and lush green fields and a permanent sun shimmer hovering over the asphalt ahead of them.

‘We took eighty nine from my area, Clare didn’t make it though, she got forty nine but she was taken.’

Marcy scowls, a frown forming across her sultry brow, ‘shame, Clare was good, we will honour her passing.’

‘Yes Marcy,’ April replies.

‘Good work April.’ They walk on, Marcy calling them forward one at a time to give the results of their takings.  With each one she feels the numbers increase, the swelling of the horde.

She had stood and watched first as the boats left, taking the women and children away from the Isle of Wight, then later as Howie and his group took the boat moored at the end of the pier.  She had expected him to come for her, expected another battle and was ready to flee.  But he didn’t come, instead he left.  She didn’t feel any sense of rage against Howie, in fact quite the opposite.  Marcy respected Howie and his abilities.  Unlike Darren who had been blinded by personal obsession she knew what a fearsome leader Howie was.  She listened and watched as Howie fought through the church and down the road until the daylight came.

Things had to change.  Hers was a new species and one that would quickly die out unless it changed and evolved.  The infection within her understood her desire to succeed and gave her greater freedom to use her own intellect.

Communication was the key.  Without communication they would never be able to organise themselves and it would continue with the masses of the new species all working separately.

Darren had collective communication, like a hive mind.  But he was unable to cope with it, seeing that power purely as an extension to his own ego.  That was his biggest mistake.  This was never about Darren, this was about the new species and they had to work together.

Working quickly, relying on her amazing beauty and the knowledge that other than her eyes there was no way of knowing she had been turned, she found survivors.  By covering those red bloodshot eyes with sunglasses she got close enough to take them.  Within a few hours she had a small horde formed, but that was enough.

That small horde she gathered, those few who stood with her, staring at their leader with love, awe and fierce loyalty were different.  They could all speak and communicate. The infection, without conscious thought, enabled Marcy to choose her own personnel.

Marcy knew she didn’t need the same powers that Darren had, she didn’t need their collective conscious clogging her mind, she didn’t need to feel what they felt, or see what they saw.  She simply needed them to be submissive, to do as told and be able to communicate back.  Marcy also understood that where free thought reigned, so too would there be greed, jealousy and a hunger for power.  The infection knew that all of those things were controlled by chemicals.  The infection had already learnt what chemicals to release to make the masses adore certain hosts, and it had done with Darren and many more across the world.

The infection gave Marcy what she desired.  This was an experiment to push that evolution far harder than ever before.

Like a single seed within a field, Marcy sent those few out with strict instruction to only cause enough injury to turn the survivor and limit the damage to the host body.  Their hunger for flesh was only held in check by the awe they held for Marcy.  Desperate to please their leader they went off, turning small groups and leading them back to Marcy.

As the numbers grew, so did her need for greater communication.  More were enabled to speak and communicate.  Each one becoming submissive to her status of unquestionable supremacy.  As Maddox denoted powers to the crew chiefs, Marcy created generals within her army.  Sending the communicators out with small groups into pre-defined areas.

The results were staggering.  Communicators were given streets, going from house to house and turning every survivor they found.  A wave swept through that town, a devastating tsunami that grew in power, volume and strength with every passing hour.

As the freshly turned hosts were led back to Marcy, so more communicators were sent out.  The massed infected stayed with Marcy, following her every movement from a respectable distance.  Within a few hours of the tenth day, Marcy had hundreds of pairs of eyes staring at her with unbridled loyalty.  The system worked far better than anything else tried already.

That town was turned.  The whole of the place was exhausted.  The battle with Howie had already caused the losses of many but now with the communicators working every street it wasn’t long before they were ready to move on.

At the end of the tenth day, Marcy led that horde along the main road and into the next village.  Using a simple street map book she sent groups out ahead and to the sides.  They knew what to do, find and turn the survivors and re-join the main group.

Marcy kept her pace slow. Throughout the night she kept them working, holding herself at the head of the ever growing horde. Communicators returned to the line, getting their hosts into the main body before heading to the front and relaying the results to Marcy.

Now, early morning on the eleventh day, Marcy marches down the wide road with the long horde stretched out behind her, heading towards the central main town.  The communicators constantly moving to the front and reporting the results.

Some were good, some were outstanding and those were given high praise.  The losses were also reported and this was done as an act of Marcy making the communicators feel responsible and suffer the shame of having to say those losses in front of the others.

The communicators felt an allegiance to each other, showing respect and sympathy in equal measure.

‘How many now?’ Marcy asks a bespectacled undead male walking just behind her.

‘One thousand, two hundred and thirty nine taken with sixty three losses during the night,’ he replies instantly.

‘Good. Very good.’ Marcy flicks an arm at a row of stone built cottages set back from the main road. ‘Barry, take them,’ she calls out.  Barry reacts instantly, dropping back to gather a small group before peeling off towards the access lane.

She presses on, leading the undead army down the hot road.  Sweat forms on her brow as she feels the pull of the hunger.  Being in the central command position meant she had not taken any survivors herself but she also knew that no matter how many she took, the hunger would be there relentless and sustained.  The main town ahead contained the commercial and industrial centres of the Island and a densely packed residential area.  Marcy knew the yield would be high, but only if it was done right.

‘Take the school,’ she sent another one scurrying to the rear to select a small horde before moving off towards the square brick built buildings set further back from the road.  The chances of anyone being in the school were remote but it was worth a go.

The road wound through the fields and hedgerows, passing cottages, farms and dwellings.  Each time a communicator was dispatched to search them.  The undead moved with purpose, expending vital energy during the hours of daylight but the results were worth it.

Marcy smiled to herself, the satisfaction from doing something right.  The power was incredible but not corrupting. She sensed how easy it would be to slip and foolishly think this was all hers, her army for her purpose, to do with as she pleased.  But it wasn’t, it was for the survival of the species.  She thought back to Darren, how she had made him wear the jeans tucked into the boots, how she confused the old world with the new. Clinging to old fancies that simply didn’t translate into this new existence.

Darren hadn’t been sent to find her; this wasn’t an act of planning by some forward thinking ideal.  It was simply fate that brought Darren to the hotel she was hiding in and to think otherwise would allow that corruption to take root.

She stared ahead, her eyes scanning the route as the road opened out at the mouth of the large roundabout.  Coming to a stop she took the sight in, processing the information as the plans formed in her mind.

To the left of the roundabout was a large leisure centre with a cinema, to the right was a wide road leading away from the town.  Ahead was the town centre.  The junction of the High Street presented to the edge of the roundabout.  She stared at the junction, a small wry smile twitching on her perfect lips at the sight of the barricade stretched across it.

The survivors had thought ahead and taken the commercial heart of the area.  The shops within that zone would contain everything they needed to keep going, supermarkets, convenience stores, chemists, medical centre.  The old mediaeval town had narrow streets leading in, perfectly suited to be blocked and sealed.

The wide junction here at the High Street was filled with trucks, vans, cars, wooden pallets and all manner of objects stacked high.

‘Interesting,’ she muses with one raised eyebrow and a slight pout, ‘now, what would Darren do?’

‘I never met him,’ the bespectacled male answers, ‘but I would imagine he would have a full frontal attack that would incur heavy losses.’

Marcy smiles at the answer, showing her even white teeth.  Her skin retained the natural tone, the infection having drawn back as much as possible and allowing her own body to function in much the normal way, ‘I would say that is right, he would spout a load of vile abuse then charge wildly while laughing like a maniac.’  The High Street is long and mostly straight, with smaller roads feeding into it, that meant more barricades which would be manned and controlled.

‘April, take them round the back of the cinema building, find a fire exit and get them inside out of the sun.  Find water and make sure they drink, they’ll hate it but they need fluids to sustain energy.’

‘Yes Marcy,’ April replies, turning round she marches quickly back to the horde.  The will of Marcy is pressed upon them without conscious thought.  They simply comply with what is required.  To follow April where she leads them and do as told until otherwise informed.

The horde would follow the instruction without April leading them, but they wouldn’t be able to communicate any dangers and would be at risk of acting without guidance.  By using April, Marcy is assuring the horde will be not only led safely, but directed in the event of something happening, which can then be reported back to Marcy in a logical manner.  Simple but effective.

The horde move off, leaving Marcy with her communicators.  They stand patiently as their leader examines the barricade ahead.

‘Spread out and work your way to the junctions, do it discretely, do not engage any survivors unless you’re cornered or trapped.  Wait at the junctions, if you do get trapped do not let them hear you speak.’ Marcy relays the instruction, watching as the undead move off in different directions.  She knows they’ll melt into the background and slowly make their way into the town centre.

‘And me?’ the bespectacled male asks.

She stares at the man, looking at his straight cut brown hair and his long sleeve white button up shirt still tucked tidily into his trousers, ‘you Reginald,’ she muses, ‘you come with me.’

They skirt round the edge of the roundabout, going behind the cinema building still being accessed by April leading the horde to shade.  Across a car park and onto a town access road with junctions leading into the sealed off area.

They keep low, moving carefully from building to building, using abandoned vehicles for cover and stopping every few metres to check for movement.  Reaching the next junction Marcy looks down the road, noting that the survivors have used the natural building line to form the barricade.  After watching for a while she decides this barricade doesn't allow access or egress and is just a solid wall across the road.

Working down the road further they find the next junction, and the next barricade.  The same format applied here with the building line used to create a sheer wall.  The doors and windows of the buildings attached to the sealed off area have been carefully boarded up with thick sheets of freshly cut ply board securely fastened in place.  Doors screwed and bolted closed.

There are definitely survivors inside, the smell of them permeates the air.  The stench of many humans living in one area, cooking, eating, shitting, pissing, fucking.  Their tempting scent is everywhere, wafting on the warm currents of air sent up from the heat they generate.

‘The fear isn’t that strong,’ she whispers to Reginald.

‘No Marcy.’

‘Eleven days in relative safety has lulled them into a false sense of security.  They must have strong men inside, probably armed and ready to defend their territory.  Food, clothing and shelter…there must be organisation too, a hierarchy within.  Otherwise they’d be petrified…’ her voice trails off as her monologue reverts to an internal discussion.  Organisation meant there would be guards on every point of access, armed guards that were vigilant and ready.  No, an all-out attack would never win this.  Well maybe they would win but the cost would be great, so why suffer high losses if there was another way?

‘How are they getting in and out? There must be a point of access…and where are all the zombies? Oh don’t flinch Reggie.’

‘I don’t like that word,’ he replies haughtily.

‘It’s what we are my dear.’

‘I prefer the term living challenged.’

‘Living challenged?’

‘Yes Marcy, living challenged, we are not zombies, zombies cannot speak or organise, they simply want to devour brains and we are more than that.’

‘Are we?’ she asks with a wry smile.

‘Far more.’

‘So you don’t want to eat any brains then?’

‘On the contrary, I do want to eat brains, I want to eat brains as much as the next one but that is not all I desire.’

‘What else do you desire Reggie?’

‘I desire to be called by my full and proper name for a start, which is Reginald, not Reggie.  I am not a London gangster, nor am I your local refuse collector happily whistling away while I collect your bins, to wit I do not like my name to be abbreviated to Reggie or Reg but simply Reginald.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Of course, I have a whole host of desires.  I desire many things, some of which I shall never be able to achieve.’

‘Such as?’ She asks unable to refrain herself from prying further.

He stood upright, straightening his sleeves and smoothing his shirt front down, ‘I desire immortality but that can never be achieved, I long desired to be desirable to members of the opposite gender but again that was never achieved…’

‘Oh a life lived in regret then Reggie? I mean Reginald.’

‘Thank you, quite the opposite I would say.  I devoted my, albeit short life, to study and the advancement of my mind which I found to be most satisfying.’

‘So you didn’t get any.’

He pretends to ignore the point, ‘any what?’

‘Did you die a virgin?’

‘Marcy, there are two points to that question, firstly I believe that when you die you are dead.  We are not dead, we’re walking, talking and breathing so I would question the validity of saying we are dead, secondly…yes I am still a virgin but be that neither here nor there I had plenty of opportunities but it was through choice that I retained that title that so many of this generation find a thing of distaste.’

‘We’ve got a whole horde now Reginald, any one of them would drop their knickers for you,’ she smiles evilly, laughing softly at the soft blush rising in his cheeks.

‘I…well in order to respond I would first have to…’

‘Oh Reggie I’m only playing dear,’ she pats him affectionately on the arm.

‘Reginald,’ he says slowly.

‘Sorry, Reginald,’ she corrects herself.

‘Do you have a plan?’ He asks.

She stares back at him for long seconds, taking in his red bloodshot eyes but his otherwise immaculate appearance, ‘I do,’ she nods.

‘I see, and are you sharing this stratagem?’

‘I am,’ she replies with a smile, ‘how do I look?’ She asks quickly, catching him off guard and waiting patiently for a second while he blusters and composes himself.

‘You…er…well that is to say you look…well you look like you normally do?’

‘Reginald, I’m not asking you for a compliment, I’m asking if you can see if I’m a zombie? Oh for god’s sake don’t look at me like that, okay…do I look like a living challenged person?’

‘Thank you and no, you don’t,’ he nods graciously.

‘I look normal then?’

‘Yes Marcy, you look entirely normal,’ he replies, a slow look of confusion spreading across his face as she stares back at him for longer than is comfortable.

‘That’s why you never lost your cherry, come on oh giver of compliments…’ she strides off, a slightly perplexed Reginald hurrying after her. ‘The plan is to get them to take me inside willingly.’

‘And exactly how do you propose to do that, your eyes still retain the reddening of the living challenged.’

‘Ah, the wonders of make-up…but first we need to find the access point, keep ‘em peeled Reggie.’

‘Reginald.’

‘Whatever.’

The High Street is in two sections; lower and upper, the two halves separated by a crossroads bordered by the town square, complete with large statues of long dead war heroes.  Marcy leads the increasingly alarmed Reginald towards the centre, taking refuge by clambering through the hole in the smashed window of a shop.  Crouched down amongst the debris of the store they stare down the street towards the town square, looking at the stacked up bodies of their dead brethren, cut down in droves over the last eleven days and left to rot in the sweltering sun.

Marcy scans the barricade made up of more trucks and vans, some of them piled on top of one another.  The barricade wall stands high, almost reaching the first floor windows of the neighbouring stores.  The crossroads has been cut off, maintaining the integrity of the High Street as a sealed environment.  But the bodies of the undead mean the survivors have been out to not only kill them, but stack them too.

‘Could you not find another shop?’ Reginald whispers.

‘Why? What’s wrong with this one?’ Marcy replies, keeping her eyes locked on the barricade as she probes for an access point.

‘It is somewhat distasteful for a man of my education and bearing to be within such a premises and I would be grateful if we could move on forthwith.’

‘What are you going on about?’ She asks, glancing at the very concerned expression on his face.

‘Good god, have you seen the size of these…monstrosities?’ He asks in horror holding a long thick pink coloured dildo up.  Marcy’s mouth drops open at the sight of the sex toy, she glances round at the dildo and vibrator littered floor, eyes sweeping across the hanging displays of sexy nurses outfits, crotch-less knickers and lacy negligées. She presses her hand against her mouth, stifling the snigger coming from it.  Reginald holds the pink dildo as though captivated, staring at the absurd size of the object.

‘You’re blushing Reggie.’

In shock, Reginald misses the incorrect moniker and continues to stare at the thing he held in his hand, wobbling it side to side and watching the rubberized sway, ‘do women actually use these things? I mean the size of it…doesn't it cause  horrendous injury? Have you…’ his voice drops off as a look of realisation steals across his face, a sudden awareness of the question he was about to ask.

‘Reginald! Were you about to me if I ever used a giant dildo?’

The blush spreading deeper across his face answers the question, instantly dropping the thing it lands with a thump and rolls across the floor to knock into Marcy’s knee, she stares down at it, then up at him, shaking her head as he flinches and goes to move it, then changes his mind and instead looks at his nails.

‘No I didn’t,’ she answers before looking back outside.

‘I did not need to know that information,’ he replies meekly.

‘You asked.’

‘I did not!’ He exclaims.

‘You were about to.’

‘Yes well, that was shock. Honestly, I do not know where to put my eyes.’

‘Try putting them on that bloody barricade and finding us a way in.’

‘I’d be glad to, anything would be better than looking at these…things…er…did you just say us?’

‘Yes I did.’

‘Us? As in you and I?’

‘Yes Reginald, me and you need to find a way in.’

‘Right, I thought that’s what you said.  Now, forgive my question but what exactly do you mean by us, more to the point, what exactly am I supposed to do when we find said way in?’

‘What do you think?’

‘That is precisely what I am concerned about, are you suggesting we go in there and take on the surviving members of the human race held behind that barricade?’

‘Yes Reginald, that is precisely what I am suggesting.’

‘Marcy, I do not think the terms of our relationship are entirely clear, I am more than willing to attend your every whim and fancy, I am the right living challenged person to assist you with the organisation of this excursion, but to suggest that I actually take part in attacking is really something I am not altogether happy about.’

‘What?’ She turns slowly to stare at him, ‘did you just say you’re scared to go and attack people?’

‘Not scared, I never said scared, unsuited to the task is the best way of describing it.’

‘Are you a zombie or not?’

‘No I am a living challenged person.’

‘Right, which means a zombie, which means we eat brains…which means you have the hunger and should be happy to attack at any given second.’

‘I have the hunger, of that I can assure you.  But I have always found violence to be abhorrent.  I do not wish to partake in savagery of any kind.’

‘You’re helping me plan a way in so I…or we…can slaughter and turn every living person in there…wouldn’t you say that was partaking in savagery?’

‘Well yes, but not the actual savaging bit.’

‘You don’t want to bite anyone?’

‘No.’

‘Right, I see. So I’ll go in there and do it shall I?’

‘Well yes, I thought that was the plan.’

‘And you don’t feel bad about that?’

‘About what precisely?’

‘Letting me go in alone.’

‘God no, why on earth would I feel bad about that? You carry on and have some fun but please I don’t feel obliged that I need to actually bite anyone and share in it, oh the thought of it turns my stomach.’

Sighing she turns back to face the barricade, noticing an end panel on the far left, the ground in front of it being clear of any debris or litter, whereas everywhere else was covered in stuff.

‘There’s a door over there, see that patch of clear ground? That must be one of the access points.’

‘I see it, yes, so how are you going to get inside exactly?’

She frowns with thought, the smooth skin of her forehead creasing with the action.  Looking down at herself she stares at her cleavage, placing her hands under her own breasts and pushing them up and together, forming a higher, deeper cleft.

‘What are you doing?’ Reginald asks, unable to tear his eyes away from the bulging boobs.

‘Thinking,’ she replies quietly, still pushing her boobs together.

‘Do you always do that when you think?’

She looks up at him, smiling at the sight of his eyes locked on her bosom, ‘wait there,’ she whispers before crabbing deeper into the store.

‘What? Where are you going?’ Reginald turns to watch her move along the display stands, working her way down to the bra section.  She pulls several of the stand, staring at the sizes before selecting a heavily padded black one.  Nodding to herself she stands straight and pulls her top over her head, exposing the bra she’s already wearing and causing Reginald to splutter in panic.

‘Marcy! What on earth?’

‘I’m changing my bra, now you can watch if you want, it really doesn't bother me or you can turn away and keep an eye on the front.’

‘Is this really the right time to be making underwear selections?’ He stammers, rotating his head to stare out the window.  He listened intently to the strange noises of elastic pinging and stretching and Marcy grunting with effort as she grappled with the straps.

‘Ready, what do you think?’ She calls out softly, crabbing back towards him.

He turns slowly, looking first at her face before dropping his gaze down to the now super enhanced cleavage threatening to topple from the edge of her top. ‘Oh my,’ he says in awe, ‘oh my.’

Perfect, she thinks to herself, the perfect reaction.  All she’s got to do is hope and pray there is a horny man on the other side of that gate and not some big mamma.

‘Won’t they fall out like that?’

‘No Reginald, they will not fall out.’

‘They look like they’re going to fall out.’

‘They are attached to my body, they cannot fall anywhere.’

‘Yes indeed,’ he forces his gaze away from her chest and back up to her eyes, swallowing hard and hoping to hell he’s not required to stand up straight for next few minutes.

‘I’m going in then,’ she whispers.

‘Okay,’ he whispers back, relieved at being able to stay in a crouched position, although it was starting to hurt a little.

‘On my own…going in…to attack the giant masses of survivors behind the barricade…on my own.’

‘Yes, I heard you the first time, good luck.’

‘Thanks Reginald,’ she says caustically before easing herself back out the window and into the street, she pauses and clambers back in, Reginald rapidly withdrawing his hand from his groin area in a quick attempt at re-arranging the cramped quarters.

‘Almost forgot,’ she whispers, pulling a long mascara stem from her pocket she works quickly, applying the make-up liberally to her eyes, coating her already thick lashes with the black liquid.   Reginald watches entranced as she puts more and more on and staring in wonder as she pushes the mascara into her back pocket and pulls out another alien implement, this one she uses to apply dark colours above and below her eyes.  When finished she tussles her hair, pulling the long strands down to frame her face.

The effect was dramatic.  With the strands of dark hair, the dark eye shadow, the mascara and the heaving cleavage, the last thing you actually looked at were her eyes.  It wouldn’t withstand careful scrutiny but it would get her damn close.

‘I’m off again.’

‘Okay,’ he yelped causing her to look sharply at him.

‘You alright Reginald?’

‘Cramp, just cramp…’

‘Oh, well you have a nice rest and stretch it out while I go and kill everyone,’ she tuts moving out of the shop again to stand in the street.  Reginald stares as she thrusts her chest out and starts tottering towards the barricade, tussling her hair so it falls across her face some more.

Thank god for that, Reginald thought as he eased the cramping tent peg within his trousers, for one awful second I thought she was going to hint at me going with her.

Six

The men sit round the commissary table.  Hard men with scowling eyes.  Tattoos of the old style, green ink faded and blurred with time, black tribal markings mixed with multi-coloured images of skulls, pin-up girls and hearts etched with “MUM”.

One of the oldest Victorian prisons in the country; HMP Parkhurst over time had housed the most dangerous offenders known to society.

The fall of society had little impact on the prison life for the first few hours.  The outbreak started late at night during lockdown.  The prisoners were contained within their cells and the officers on duty were busy doing patrols and visual checks.  It was only during the early hours that the officers became aware of anything happening.

During tea break they listened to a hasty news report transmitted on the staff room radio, giving details of every town and city in the country exploding in unprecedented violence.  The officers listened with growing horror as the news bulletin rushed through hasty reports of the initial stages.

By Saturday morning the prison was devoid of staff, all of them had left to be with their families.  The night staff had waited with growing concern, some of them had simply left their posts and gone home immediately.  Others had waited, hoping beyond hope that the situation would change.  When it did change it became worse, the televisions stopped working, the radio stations ceased their broadcasts and everyone fled.

There was no plan for this, no manual that stated what to do in the event of the apocalypse.  The last two officers simply detached the outside door keys from the large key-rings and left the keys on the desk, knowing they would be found.  They then activated the electronic door opening procedure.  As one, over five hundred doors clicked audibly as they unlocked.

The officers knew the prisoners would be aware of the early opening within seconds, and they didn’t hang around.  Minutes later they were gone.  The outer doors were locked, the inside of the prison wasn’t.  The prisoners could move freely about the wings.

Within one short hour of the doors opening, there was utter carnage.  Stabbings happened quickly, grudges held in check for fear of the consequences were dealt with, debts recovered. Rapes took place, riots broke out, the offices and staff sections were ripped apart. Anarchy reigned supreme as the men held contained for so long were able to explode and do as they wished.

Many lives were lost.  The meek fled to the strong.  The strong flourished as they grew in number and formed gangs.  Black versus white, religion against religion, creed against colour.  The alliances changed hourly as allegiances were made, gang joined gang to fight a common enemy then turned on each other.

Word spread of the devastation in the outside world.  None knew where the information came from but it was common practise for prisoners to hold mobile phones, smuggled in by corrupt officers for a hefty price.  Some only thought of escape and quickly set about planning on ways to break out.  Others became fixated with the gangs and alliances, consumed with a need for violence and revenge for any perceived slight.

Contained within the prison with all exterior doors locked, the prisoners were truly captive.  The windows were barred and thick.  The floor was several feet of solid concrete.  The doors were thick metal structures designed to withstand massed violent upheaval. The word prisoner was never truer than now.

Over the next week, several leaders emerged.  Strong men not just with physicality but with strength of mind and traits of leadership.  Quick witted enough to let the violence play out and thereby reduce the numbers contained within the walls.  The food held in the kitchens saw the most violent battles.  Gangs defended the fridges, stores and tuck-shops with their lives.  Staff offices became headquarters.  Those unwilling to fight were killed, leaving no choice but to pick a side.

The leaders slowly took control.  Establishing themselves as the top of the pecking order.  As the days slowly went by each wing became the ground of a gang.  Five wings meant ultimately five gangs, each controlled by one man.  Five leaders.  Three white and two black.

On the tenth day, after constant careful negotiations, the leaders all agreed to meet within the central canteen area.  The terms were agreed in advance.  No other men would be allowed access, no weapons would be taken in.

Jonas, the leader of A wing and holder of the coveted tuck-shop stares round at the faces sitting at the circular plastic moulded table.  Deep suspicion on all their faces.  Silence held them in check, none of them wanting to be the first to speak.  Jonas knew he would have to take the lead, it was almost expected.  He was the leader of A wing, the top wing, the number one wing.  Alpha.

‘We all got something the others want,’ he began, choosing his words carefully, ‘I got the tuck-shop, B wing holds the staff offices with the phones, radio and guard room, C wing has the library which contains information we all need to survive and the porn magazines,’ Jonas looks to each man as he speaks, inclining his head respectfully and watching as they acknowledge his reference to them, ‘D wing has the showers and ablutions, the fresh running water and I don’t know about you but I don’t like drinking water from a toilet bowl,’ the joke fell flat, all the men remaining poker faced, moving on swiftly he continues, ‘and E wing has the gym.’ Jonas pauses as he looks at the leader of E wing.  The most feared man within the prison and one of the largest men Jonas had ever seen.  Randall was a huge brute of a man, an American power lifter attending a competition in the UK, his unbroken bench press record was smashed by a young northern English lad.  Randall could just about hold his legendary temper in check at losing the record, but when the young lad disrespected him Randall snapped.  A Los Angeles gang affiliated man and respect was everything, in the street, in the gym, in the penitentiary.  Respect had to be given.  For the loss of respect Randall beat the lad to death with a dumbbell.  It took twelve police officers with tazer’s to subdue him when he was arrested.  That was ten years ago.

Randall remains expressionless for long seconds, his fierce eyes staring hard at Jonas.  He leans forward, resting his overly muscled arms on the table.  Veins bulging along his forearms and looking to burst from his biceps.  Black skinned, with a bald head and short black beard he was a fearsome sight and he knew it.

‘Randall?’ Jonas prompts the man, expecting him to say something.

‘What motherfucker?’ Randall sneers, his voice deep and aggressive.

‘You agree? We all got something the others want.’

‘Fuck you, fuck your mother fucking showers and fuck your library.’

‘You need to eat Randall, I got the food,’ Jonas replies, keeping his tone neutral and not reacting at the language of the other man.

Randall looks away dismissively, he knew he needed the food and he too didn’t like having to take water from the toilet bowls each cell had, he also craved to have access to the library.  Despite his formidable appearance, Randall knew the brain was a muscle that also needed regular exercise, but damn if was going to beg anyone for them.

‘I agree,’ the leader of B wing says quickly, ‘we need to work together and resolve this fucking mess, we got dead bodies stacked up that fucking stink…’

‘I want out,’ D wing leans forward, his angry eyes staring at the others, ‘my wing is in the middle, we’re fucking trapped and I want out, you can have the fucking showers just give me an outside wall to start working on.’

‘It’s been tried,’ Jonas replies, ‘they’re too thick.’

‘Ain’t fucking trying hard enough,’ Randall growls.

Jonas leans forward, drawing a packet of cigarettes from his pocket, all other eyes fell on the sealed box, watching as Jonas casually strips the plastic film off, removes the foil inlay and taps a tailor made cigarette out.

‘You’re a cunt Jonas, fucking doing that in front of us, I ain't had a smoke for a week now,’ B wing moans with his eyes fixed on the packet.

‘Don’t,’ Jonas replies quickly, his temper evidently bubbling away, ‘call me a cunt…here, help yourself.’ He pushes the pack into the middle of the table.  Watching with satisfaction as the other men all reached out to grab it, all apart from Randall who looks at them with clear disgust.

‘Any of you motherfuckers blow smoke my way and I’ll beat on your ass,’ he says quietly.

‘Easy Randall,’ Jonas cuts in, ‘so what we gonna do?’

‘Do? Do motherfucker? I’ll kill all you sons of bitches and shit on your mother fucking rotting corpses.’

‘I fucking knew he’d be like this,’ the leader of C wing sits back, blowing a plume of smoke into the air.

‘Randall, you agreed to this meeting along with the rest of us, we need a plan, a way of cohabiting or of getting out of here.’

‘Who said anything about getting out? You heard what’s going on out there, fuck that…I’m staying here until it’s over,’ B wing cuts in.

D wing leans in, tapping his fingers on the table, ‘and when we will know when that is eh? We fucking won’t will we, it could be over now for all we know.’

‘You dumb motherfucker, you want to stay in here? Man you stupid.  Jonas is the only motherfucker with an outside wall, that’s where we need to be.’

‘You got an outside wall Randall,’ D wing replies.

Shaking his head, Randall pauses before answering, ‘the gym wall leads into the yard you stupid motherfucker, there’s two more walls before you even get near the perimeter.’

‘I think,’ Jonas clears his throat, ‘we need to come up with a solution so we share what we’ve got and work out a way of getting out.’

‘You got the outside wall and the fucking tuck-shop Jonas, why ain't you getting that wall down eh?’ D wing asks.

‘Because we don’t have the tools, we’ve got plastic chairs and nothing else…we can’t take a fucking wall down with our bare hands.’

‘What you gonna use then?’

‘The showers in your wing have iron pipes, we can use them and the barbells and equipment from the gym, it’ll be done in no time.’

‘So you want the pipes from my showers and the stuff from Randall’s gym eh? What do we get in return? And why the fuck is the librarian here…what’s he gonna do? Throw books at the walls?’

‘Fuck you! B wing has the offices, what the fuck can they do with offices?’ C wing, the holder of the library protests.

‘They got the phones and the radio,’ Jonas replies, speaking louder to drown the arguments out, ‘we all got something the others need, I got the wall but I need tools and men to use them.’

‘So what you suggesting then eh? That we call a truce or something?’ D wing asks.

‘Pretty much yes,’ Jonas nods, ‘that’s about all we can do…or we keep going as we are until the food runs out and we all die.’

‘I’m in,’ B wing says quickly, ‘we got no food left, we’re fucking starving to death already.’

‘Me too,’ C wing adds.

‘Randall?’ Jonas and the others look to the man sat flexing his arms, making the veins bulge out even more.

‘We do this and work together then we want an equal share of the food, and water from the showers…I want access to the library and the offices too.’

‘We all want access to everything, my guys are busting a gut to get back in the gym,’ Jonas replies.

‘How can they go to the gym if we’re using the stuff to get out?’ B wing asks with a confused look.

‘We don’t need to use everything, the weights machines won’t be used, just some of the barbells and maybe some dumbbells,’ Jonas says.

‘So gentlemen, are we in agreement? From this point on all feuds are forgotten, no fighting, no attacks, no shanks, everyone goes where they want and we get the fuck out of dodge.’

‘Jonas, I like you but if you cross me you motherfucker I will kill you, bring you back to life and kill you again,’ Randall glares.

‘We’re all criminals here, we’ll cross each other for a fucking glass of juice given the chance,’ B wing adds.

‘But we’re all working towards a common aim,’ Jonas says, ‘no crossing, send someone from each wing to stay in the stores with my man…that way there can be no funny business.’

‘Shake on it?’ C wing offers, standing to extend his hand.

‘Stupid motherfuckers, I don’t need no fucking fag hand shake with you dumb fuckers,’ Randall stands up, stretching to his full height and pushing his massive chest forward, ‘later losers,’ he adds before walking off.  Jonas swaps handshakes with the others, quietly breathing a sigh of relief at finally making some headway.

The wing leaders stride out, heading back to their wings to relay the news.  The prisoners of each wing receive the update with grim faces at the prospect of more fighting and battles erupting.  The prisoners are hungry and feeling more cooped up than ever before in their sentences.  No daylight or yard time, no exercise and surrounded by dead bodies.  Even the bodies removed to the end cells are now stinking the wings out.

Slowly they emerge from their wings, the central canteen being the first place they start to mingle.  Groups stay together, wings massing as they watch and stare at one another.  The wing leaders moving amongst them with a watchful eye.

An hour later and the tension has eased, the gym stripped of the long solid metal bars to be used to start attacking the thick outer wall on A wing.  Iron bars from the showers are removed, along with men rushing into the ablutions to have their first proper wash in days.  Some scuffles break out which are quickly dealt with by others desperate to keep the peace and get out.

A reluctant peace descends as they set to work.  The constant hammering of metal against stone echoing through the wings as the men set to work with fierce determination.

Seven

I’ve got great tits, Marcy thinks looking down at her chest with pride.  She reaches the far end of the barricade unhindered, no shouted challenges being yelled from look outs.  The smell is stronger now, the stench of the living just a few yards away.  Her mouth unwittingly fills with drool as her body senses the closeness to flesh.  She swallows it down, re-adjusting her hair as she gets to the end panel.

‘Hello?’ She calls out gently, making her voice quaver with fear.  She taps on the metal shutter, noting that it doesn't rattle or vibrate, securely fixed in.

‘Who’s that?’  A male voice calls out, she smiles hearing the young tone.

‘Hi, my name is Marcy…I just got here, I was hoping to find other survivors.’

‘Hang on,’ the male voice calls out.  She listens to the sound of metal against metal, a thin sliver of a gap forms in the panel as a look out slot is opened, a pair of brown eyes stare out.  Marcy drops her head, stepping just enough to show her body.  She glances up quickly, smiling at the soft brown eyes fixed on her cleavage.

‘Hi,’ Marcy says softly, giving a demure wave.

‘Hi…er…are you alone?’

‘Yes,’ she nods, exaggerating the movement to appear frightened and vulnerable.  She turns her head, nervously looking about the area as though worried at being attacked, ‘there’s lots of bodies out here,’ she adds in the same quavering tone.

‘Yeah,’ the man replies, his eyes still fixed on her chest.

‘Did you kill all these?’ She asks.

‘Not all of them, but well yeah… I got quite a lot though.’

‘Wow, you must be so brave, I’ve been so frightened travelling on my own.  They kept chasing me but I got away and hid, and that noise they make at night,’ she shudders, lowering her head to cover her eyes, giving a heave as though crying.

‘Have you been bitten or anything?’ The man asks.

‘No,’ she shakes her head, ‘I guess you’ll need to check me all over…I don’t mind doing that, I know you have to be very careful.’

‘Oh yes, we’ve got really strict rules here, no one gets in without being checked, like you know, all over and everything.’

‘I understand, you have to be very thorough, do you want me to take my clothes off now?’

‘Yes! Oh…no I mean well not there in the street.’

‘I’m so frightened, what if those things come here…’ she crosses her arms across under her bosoms, knowing she’ll be pushing them higher.

‘Don’t worry, we’ll get you inside…I just need to get another woman to…’

‘Please don’t leave me out here, I don’t mind if you check me over, really I don’t mind. You must be like the leader or something if they put you on the gate so I know I’ll be safe with you.’

‘Well I’m not the leader but yeah…you know I’m quite high up.’

‘I bet you are, please let me come in, you can check me all over…I’ll do whatever you say,’ she purrs, dropping a shoulder slightly so the strap, which she adjusted for this very purpose, falls down slightly.  She can hear his breathing increase, the lust in his eyes clearly evident.

‘Okay, but you’ll have to be checked really thoroughly.’

‘Of course, will it just be you and I? Alone?’ She asks, drawing the last word out.  Bolts and scrapes sound out from the other side as the man works quickly to open the panel.

‘Er…yeah you know, respect for privacy and all that,’ he grunts with exertion as he moves something heavy.

‘Oh I am glad, you’ve got such nice safe eyes, my mother always said you can tell a man is kind from his eyes…what’s your name?’

‘Robert…er…well everyone calls me Robbie.’

‘Oh my god Robbie, you have no idea how happy I am to find this place, are there many people inside?’

‘About four hundred I think, something like that…hang on…right that’s it, stand back a bit so I can push the gate open.’

She does as told, standing back with her feet together and her hands clasped in front, head hanging low, the true pose of the demure woman being rescued by the brave knight.

‘Quick, get in,’ he urges, and she notes the huskier tone of his voice caused by getting a full look at her.

She steps inside, moving deftly past him and taking in the private alcove.  A high stack of sandbags form a wall with a narrow gap leading into the High Street beyond.

‘At least it’s nice and private in here Robbie,’ she says softly, ‘do you want me to get undressed now?’

‘Er…hang on, I got to put all this back yet,’ he grunts, quickly shoving heavy bags of concrete against the door.

‘Wow, you’re so strong,’ she smiles, watching the thin built youth struggling with the heavy bags, ‘how old are you Robbie?’

‘Nineteen, but I’ll be twenty in a few weeks,’ he adds quickly, ‘there all done,’ he turns round, his eyes sweeping over her body.  Swallowing nervously he suddenly seems unsure of what to do.

‘So Robbie, do you want to check me now?’ She whispers.  She watches with amusement as he swallows again, his mouth trying to work but no words coming out, ‘you’ll have to tell me what to do Robbie,’ still he doesn't speak but just stands staring at her boobs, my god, another virgin she thinks to herself.  She pulls her top off, exposing her push up bra and almost laughing at the young lad blushing furiously, ‘Can you help me Robbie, I can never get these things undone easily,’ she turns her back, presenting the clasp of her bra to him.  Bless him, must be the first pair of boobs he’s ever seen in real life, mind you…it’ll be the last ones too. She rolls her eyes as his shaking fingers fumble at the clasp, pushing and tugging away and getting nowhere.

‘Sorry, I’m er…not used to these particular bra’s, the others have always been, you know….different.’

‘Oh I know Robbie, they’re so complicated,’ she smiles with delight, almost feeling sorry for the young lad.

‘Got it!’ He exclaims as the elastic pings open.  She turns slowly, holding her bra over her boobs and watching his face go slack.  Slowly, she starts to lower the bra, inch by inch and taking great delight at the expression on his face.  At the point of full exposure the blood drains from his face, causing him to sway.

‘Hey Robbie, are you okay?’ She holds a hand out to steady him.

‘Yeah, wow…sorry…must be the heat,’ he stutters, unable to take his eyes away from the now naked breasts.

‘Robbie, look at me,’ she steps in close, her face just inches from his, ‘Robbie…hey look at me,’ she urges softly.  He responds slowly, his face tilting up as he focusses on her face, lost in love the poor sod.  He smiles meekly, still not noticing the red bloodshot eyes.

‘Have you ever kissed a girl before Robbie?’ She asks softly, he shakes his head dumbly, too love-struck to even consider lying, ‘kiss me then Robbie, kiss me now,’ she leans in, feeling increasingly sorry that he’ll never get to sleep with a woman.  Their lips meet, she goes gently at first, smiling softly at feeling the hand gently squeezing at her left breast.  The kiss of death carries on as her saliva drips into his mouth.  Soaking into the soft tissue of his tongue.  A much slower way to infect but still effective.

She remembers where she is, realising someone could come and check on young Robbie.  She nips gently at his lip. Just enough to draw blood, he winces but is too far gone to notice the blood drawn.  She kisses him again, ensuring her saliva enters his blood stream.  She puts one hand over his, holding it tight against her boob.

‘Im sorry Robbie,’ she whispers.

‘Me too,’ he replies without any idea of what he’s saying sorry for.  The infection courses through his system, cells turning as it takes hold in every organ.  He turns his head, feeling a woozy sense flooding over him.  His legs start to shake, his hands dropping to his sides.

‘Easy Robbie,’ she takes his weight, lowering him down to the ground, his breathing becomes harder as he fights to keep his life so quickly ebbing away from him, vision blurring, senses cutting out.  She strokes his head, murmuring softly into his ear.  He slips under, his heart gradually ceasing.

Marcy smiles sadly, feeling better for at least letting him have a kiss and a grope before he died.  She dresses quickly, doing the bra up and pulling her top over her head.

Dropping down to his side she watches patiently for the first twitch, cocking her head to one side as the convulsions run through him.  His eyes snap open, staring up full of blood.

‘Welcome back Robbie,’ she smiles, ‘how do you feel?’

‘I feel great,’ he whispers, his voice dull and flat.

‘Good, now get up and move those heavy bags for me,’ she steps away, keeping watch out the gap in the sandbags as Robbie removes the heavy bags and pushes the panel open.

Staring out she takes in the scene.  The long High Street looks relatively normal.  Some of the shop windows have been smashed in but are now covered with boards, the ground is free from litter and no vehicles parked up.  People walk through the street, some alone, others in couples or small groups.  They look healthy and well-fed, clean and remarkably unconcerned.

Soon change that, she muses quietly.

‘Marcy?’ A voice whispers from outside the barricade.  She turns quickly leaning out the open panel to see one of the communicators stood there.

‘Just you?’ She asks.

‘More over there,’ he points back to the junction.

‘Get them here, move quietly,’ she watches as the male runs off towards the junction, ‘you okay Robbie?’

‘I’m fine Marcy,’ he replies flatly.

‘Hungry?’

‘Yes.’

‘Not long to wait, here they are…come on quick…stay inside the sandbags.’ She ushers them inside, turning to see them standing cramped inside the alcove, ‘split up, give it about five minutes so we’re all up and down the street then go for it…got it?’ They nod back, the look of awe oozing from their faces. ‘Go on then, off you go,’ she watches as they filter out into the street, quickly walking away from the alcove in different directions.  All of them doing varying actions to hide their eyes, holding their hands over their heads, lowering heads, wearing sunglasses.

Marcy walks out last with Robbie, knowing he’ll be recognised by the people within the compound.  They stroll away from the gate, heading down the High Street.

‘Lower your head Robbie.’

‘Sorry Marcy,’ he responds quickly, dropping his head to stare at the ground.

‘Alright Robbie, your shift finished already has it?’ Someone calls out from a shop doorway.

‘Just going for a piss Mr Thomas,’ Robbie replies, his voice still flat and getting a strange look from Mr Thomas, but fortunately nothing more than.

‘Well done,’ Marcy whispers softly.

‘Thank you,’ he replies, feeling a deep sense of pride at getting a compliment from his beloved leader.

They reach nearly to the end of the High Street, the high barricade at the roundabout now very close.  The first scream rips through the air, carrying easily through the quiet street, funnelled by the high buildings and with no vehicles or traffic, the noise travelled to every corner.  More screams joined the first.  Marcy smiled with satisfaction, copying everyone else by turning to stare at the other end of the street.  She watches as one of her communicators runs from a doorway, lunging at the back of a man stood staring into the distance.  He bites quickly, ripping a chunk of flesh away from the back of his neck and already moving off to take another as the man spins round clutching his bleeding skin.

Several are bitten before anyone has any real sense of what’s happening, Marcy watches as the scene explodes in front of her.  People screaming in blind panic, running in all directions.  Men run into the street holding shotguns but clearly with no idea who to shoot.  People shout instructions, drowning each other out.  Confusion abounds.  Marcy nods at Robbie, giving him the go ahead to have some fun.  He runs off, attacking a group of people bent over trying to stop a victim from convulsing.

‘This couldn’t have been easier,’ she mutters.  The urge to join in almost overwhelms her, the need to bite, feast, tear flesh open and purge their human blood.  She resists, feeling the excruciating agony of denial threatening to pull her into the earth.  A body falls close, the blood oozing from a bite wound to the neck.  She stares down, her chest heaving as she fights to control the urge.  Eyes locked on the body.  A hand claws at her leg, desperate, pleading, begging for help. She stands still, watching with morbid interest as the body slowly dies, the hand clutching hard for a second before slowly releasing to drop to the ground.  She crouches, running her index finger over the contours of the face, feeling the stubble of the dead man’s chin.  Her hand drops, the fingers tracing closer to the wound, tantalising, teasing, she pushes her finger over the wound, feeling the roughness of the torn skin.  Sticky blood coats her finger, she lifts it up, savouring that urge as she runs it lightly over her lips.  One small lick and she closes her eyes in ecstasy.  Her taste buds sending feelings of orgasmic pleasure to her brain.

While hundreds die, slaughtered in the most horrifying manner she rests with eyes closed, listening to the sounds of suffering, the screams of agony and pain, the children crying for their mothers, grown men weeping as they fall to the ground, powerless to defend their loved ones.

The sounds conflict within her soul.  Her face betraying the emotions.  Life is suffering.  Born into the cold, desperate for love and nurture and created in a world that knows only how to cause pain.  The agony they suffer is a rite of passage, for only by suffering that agony can they be re-born into the new species.  The new life where there is no suffering.  No violence between them, only that which is dealt to the humans.  No pain, no temptations, just life in the perfect state of being.  A super organism moving to the will of one for the good of many.

This pain they face now, the sheer agony as they see everything around them crumble and die is the only way they can truly evolve.  This infection, this disease…this thing inside them pushes the advancement of mankind far greater than ten thousand years of natural selection.  If this had been at the dawn of mankind there would already be immortality and peace throughout the universe.  They would already be reaching the stars, inhabiting other planets, probing to the deepest parts of the ocean, mapping the body and curing all disease.  Every member of the species working together in harmony and for the one simple aim of surviving.

Some go peacefully, like Robbie they endure the agony in a state of near bliss with barely any suffering.  More than anything Marcy wants to reach out and give that feeling to all of the fallen humans, to show them they can pass through in peace, lay quietly hand in hand with their loved ones, close their eyes and wait for the glory to work through them.  If only she could do this, could reach out and ease that pain.

A single tear rolls down her cheek as she remembers the fear she felt at passing through.  The act of dying alone in a dirty street while being held by a strange monster with red eyes.  The words he gave were soft and comforting.  She, like these humans now, fought against the final act, as if that struggle would somehow prevent her from dying.

She opens her eyes, the agony within her shows clearly.  She prays they will pass quickly and join them, re-awaken and feel the love within them, feel the glory of being a perfect being with a single intent to work together to achieve a common aim.

The screams gently cease as the last are taken.  Single voices now cry out as the last are hunted.  She watches the road, seeing as the bodies twitch and convulse.  All around her new life is beginning.  Like roses blossoming under the beautiful summer sun she watches the bodies jerk as they enter into the new world.  Sitting up, opening their red bloodshot eyes.  Every one of them now feeling at peace, no longer suffering or feeling the indignity of life.  They stand slowly, their movements unsteady.  She stands with them, a small smile forming on her lips, the sadness in her eyes being replaced by a look of love and pleasure.  A welcoming gesture and the smile grows wider as they all turn to face her, hundreds of red eyes staring at their beloved leader.  She grins back at them, showing them her love, showing them this is a new time.

The suffering has passed for now.  Many more will have to pay that price, but it is a small cost for what they now have.  Men, women and children all move silently towards her.  Their feet ungainly at first as the infection quickly masters the thousands of nuances it takes to control each separate host.

‘Welcome,’ her voice carries clearly in the now silent street, ‘I am sorry for the pain you had to endure but it’s over now, we are one and we are together.’ They stare back, eyes full of wonder and awe, chemicals pumped into their systems bring them to a state of bliss.  Absolute adoration flows from them to Marcy and to each other.  No longer confined by family ties with just mothers loving children or husbands loving wives, for now the love is shared.

A bespectacled man appears at the far end of the street, Marcy watches him weave down the road, moving between the hosts as he nods and greets them politely, ‘welcome, hello, nice to meet you,’ he repeats the salutation over and over, finally reaching the end and spotting Marcy standing there.

‘Reggie my love, you made it then,’ she says warmly.

‘Reginald please, yes I made it although I did not appreciate being left in that store on my own, do you know some of those items of undergarments were incomplete.’

‘Incomplete?’ She asks.

‘Yes Marcy, incomplete.  I really don’t know how the retailer allowed them to be placed on display.  I thought initially that it was just one item like it, but on closer inspection I realised the manufacturer must have mass produced from a flawed schematic.  I mean who on earth would fail to see that the knickers they were selling did not have sufficient material in the crotch, honestly! That is why the retail industry was struggling…’

‘Yes Reginald, very true,’ she smiles inwardly, feeling somewhat touched at his naivety and innocence. How rare to find someone uncorrupted. ‘Reginald my dear, would you get a head count for me please and send me some communicators.  We have much work to do,’ she requests, pulling the map book from the back of her waistband to start examining the layout of the residential streets.

‘I will do that forthwith Marcy,’ he replies, turning round to start counting the now still host bodies.

Marcy moves to the shade, examining the map and deciding to simply work out from the centre.  She waits until Reginald returns with the numbers, ‘four hundred and twenty seven gained, I think we lost two,’ he explains, ‘and one is in a wheelchair and I am not entirely sure of your policy with regard to living challenged persons who suffer from a physical disability or impediment.’

‘They can come with us, someone can push them along,’ she answers.

‘I will see to that, is that to be the case with all living challenged persons suffering from a physical disability or would you rather assess each one on their individual circumstances?’

‘We really shouldn’t leave any behind Reginald, unless they are so disabled as to cause delay or undue hardship then they will have to be left.’

‘I understand entirely Marcy.’

‘Can you get someone to the cinema building and ask April to bring our group here, there’s plenty of shade for them to rest in.’

‘Yes Marcy, and if I may add,’ he clears his throat, straightening his sleeves out before continuing, ‘I would like to say that I think you have done a remarkable job so far and the taking of this compound was perfectly executed.’

‘Thank you Reginald, that is a very kind thing to say.’ She smiles as he walks off, the small man full of importance as he runs the errands set for him.

She busies herself dispatching communicators away with small groups, allocating them streets to check and clear.  Robbie stands nearby, watching his leader closely as she steadily works through the area.

Marcy pauses her work as April returns with a long and steady flow of hosts pouring through the access gate.  Reginald directs them into shaded areas, busily arranging sections and sending April down to Marcy.

‘Any trouble?’ Marcy asks as the woman approaches.

‘No Marcy, how many did we gain from here?’

‘Over hour hundred with only two losses.’

‘That’s great,’ April smiles with genuine pleasure, ‘where do you want me?’

Marcy continues, giving street names to small groups and watching them nod in understanding as they file away. ‘Robbie, can you arrange for some water to be brought out please.’

‘Water?’ Robbie asks in the same dull tone.

‘They hate it but it’s very hot and we need to keep them as refreshed as possible, in fact…that will be your responsibility from now on, keeping them watered as much as possible.’

‘Thank you Marcy,’ Robbie swells with pride, moving off quickly to fulfil the request.  She smiles again, shaking her head as she returns to the map book, her finger tracing the roads out of town.  Another couple of hours will see this town done, the amount of hosts she had turned to communicators allowed the progression to be done that much faster.

Eight

‘Get your mother-fucking backs into that mother-fucking wall, you are weak, weak as a little baby in a crib crying for its momma.  My mother-fucking grandmother is stronger than you motherfuckers, gimme that mother-fucking bar,’ Randall strides forward, snatching the seven foot barbell from the inmate.  ‘Get the fuck outa my mother-fucking way,’ he snarls, eyes wide with fury.  The inmates step away, giving the large angry man some space.  Randall grasps the bar two handed, standing side on to the wall he drives the end into the hard surface forcing a chunk of plaster to fall away.  He strikes again harder, the dull thud resounding through the wall.  Plaster fractures and falls, exposing the hard blocks underneath.

Each strike gets harder as he powers more strength into it, twisting his upper body round and driving the bar in using his back, shoulders and arms. His face becoming demonic as his energy increases with each strike.  Those that know him recognise the look from the intensity of his workouts.  Lifting phenomenal weight seemingly just from the strength of his mind.

‘You,’ Randall pauses to stare at a large built man stood watching with his arms folded, ‘get in here with me, stand opposite me you motherfucker, hold that bar hard boy, you hold it hard and move with me, like this…’ Randall swings back gently, slowly driving the end into the wall.  The man stands opposite, so close he can smell the musty body odour from Randall.  They go easy, pulling the bar back to drive it in slowly.  They master the motion, going harder with each strike, Randall keeps the motion steady, working up to a rhythm.  ‘Now motherfucker, command that wall to break, say it with me you motherfucker, say it with me,’ the man mutters the words softly, feeling self-conscious at the overt character of the American .

‘What the fuck is wrong with you? Say it like a mother-fucking man, I command you to break…I mother-fucking command you to break…’ The man repeats it louder, the knuckles of his hands going white from gripping the bar, ‘man you need to take that energy and channel it, you gotta channel that mother-fucking rage inside you…how long since you had a woman? How long since you had a drink like a man? When was the last time you saw some mother-fucking titties? You wanna see some mother-fucking titties?’ Randall stares at the man, both of them gripping the bar, drawing it back to slam it forward into the wall, each strike building power.  The man’s face flushes from the relentless words Randall roars at him, ‘you want some mother-fucking titties? You want to smell that fresh air? You gotta get mad, get mad with me, come on…I command you to break…’

‘I command you to break,’ the man sputters with growing anger, they pull the bar back, driving it with increasing power.

‘Come on, get mad you motherfucker, you a married man? I’m gonna find your wife and fuck her, I’m gonna find your mother-fucking wife and fuck her good, that make you mad?’ The man gives a gargled yell, his face now a deep shade of red, eyes ablaze. ‘Get in here you dumb motherfuckers, two more…’ Randall glares at two inmates stood watching.  They dart forward, too fearful to do anything other than ordered.  They take position either side of the bar, standing shoulder to shoulder with Randall and the other man.

‘I’m gonna fuck all your wives and get me some big old titties…I command you to break, I command you to break.’ The chant gets taken up, repeated with every strike.  The power builds as the men drop into the rhythm.  The blocks start chipping, fracturing with chunks breaking away.  Mortar breaks up from the constant pounding, another barbell is taken up alongside them, men grasping the metal tube and dropping into the rhythm dictated by Randall.  They focus on the section below the heavily barred windows, hoping the wall will be weaker.  Inmates keep glancing up at the glass, seeing the width of the wall extend beyond the line of the window, judging how much further they will have to go.

Randall drops back, bellowing at the other inmates to rotate round and keep the strength and energy high.  The noise flows through the prison, inmates flood to the area.  Iron bars from the showers are ripped out and carried to the outer wall.  A long line of prisoners attack the wall, driving the metal pipes into the solid structure.  A cacophony of sound accompanied by the chant urged on by Randall cajoling, threatening and goading them.

The inner part of the wall starts to degrade, the men work harder, battering the concrete blocks away.  A small hole forms, causing a loud groan to be taken up at the sight of the next layer of undamaged blocks.

‘What you whining for you motherfuckers, you think this is over? This ain’t over, there could be fifty walls here and we will mother-fucking destroy them all.’

Jonas stands back watching, organising water to be brought in for the men working.  He stares at the blue sky outside the window, both longing to be outside and away from this violent environment but also extremely concerned at what lies out there.  No word from the outside world since it began.  The many mobiles within the prison had been tried until the batteries ran out, some were charged up until the electricity failed.  The landlines in the office were tried repeatedly until they too failed.

The radio from the staff room was continually re-tuned across all frequencies constantly scanning for any broadcasts.  For all they knew the world had entirely ended.  No vehicles could be seen on the road, no people walking across the fields.  The cattle were still at graze in the meadows.  Some element of conflict waged within Jonas, a feeling that breaching the security of the walls was somehow a mistake.  But to stay in here would mean certain death, either from the violence constantly erupting between the inmates or simply starving to death.

Jonas knew that it wouldn’t be long before these men turned to cannibalism, as far-fetched as that may seem he understood better than anyone that while these men were the very dregs of society, they were also born survivors and would do anything to stay alive.

No, getting out was the best option for staying alive.  He’d already identified a small group to move with, knowing that large numbers would just cause further problems.  A large gang might make them harder to attack, but finding food would be difficult and keeping a large gang in check would also be hard.  Keep a small group of carefully selected men with him and move as far away from the prison as possible.  Head north and find the coast, get a boat and back to the mainland.

Randall was a concern. The man possessed an awe inspiring energy and simply didn’t conform to any basic fundamental rules.  He owed no allegiance to any man and had the ability, both mentally and physically, to take what he wanted.

‘You worried Jonas?’ One of his close associates saw Jonas watching Randall closely, understanding the look of concern on the leaders face.

Jonas breathes out, a deep sigh as he watches the hard American bully the inmates into working harder, he dominated the room.  The black tattoo’s etched onto his arms, shoulders and neck, the thick black beard and huge defined muscles, by mere presence alone he could dominate any environment, but now, bellowing with an unsurpassed energy he looked unstoppable, like something from a comic book, ‘he’s dangerous,’ Jonas mutters quietly.

‘We’re all dangerous Jonas, that’s why we’re here.’

‘He poses a danger to all of us, the second we’re out he’ll try and take control.  Look at him, they’re all frightened…I’ve never seen anyone have that effect before.’

‘What’s the plan then? Take him out once we get outside?’

Jonas pauses before answering, his face passive but his mind working quickly, ‘yeah,’ he nods gently, ‘get some weapons ready, we’ll need to work quickly, tell the lads to go for his neck and cut deep, sever an artery…stab his eyes out, but it will have to be quick you understand me?’

‘Yeah I got it, leave it with me,’ the man slips away, walking slowly through the wing to spread the word.

Nine

‘Another fifty two just arrived,’ Reginald reports to Marcy.

‘Good, what are we up to now?’

‘Just under two thousand,’ he replies.

‘Reginald, that’s not very precise for you?’

‘On the contrary, I am aware of another group heading in and I have anticipated their numbers in advance, adding them to the sum total thus achieved and calculating there will be just under two thousand, but without the precise number of the approaching group I am unable to give an exact amount.  However, if you wish the figure as it stands at this time within the boundary of the barricade then…’

‘Reggie! It’s fine,’ she laughs at his serious manner.

‘Reginald,’ he says automatically.

‘We’re doing well, very well, another couple of hours and we can move on.’

‘Marcy, I have a question if I may?’ He asks politely.

‘Is it about dildo’s or crotchless knickers?’

‘No! Please Marcy I have no desire to discuss such topics, the very thought of those…things is simply disgusting…’

‘Okay, calm down dear Reggie, now what was it?’

‘Reginald,’ he says on autopilot, ‘my question concerns the structure and manner within which you are able to choose the roles of the living challenged people that currently encompass the mass of our group.’

‘Pardon?’ She blinks at him, confused as to whether he made a statement or asked a question.

‘Putting it simply, how do you decide who is able to speak and who is unable to speak? Is it a decision based on intellect of the person, or is there some other criteria used for your decision making process.  I only ask as it appears that, for the most part, the vast majority of the living challenged are unable to speak or communicate and are simply driven by their need to feast.’

‘In short, I don’t know,’ she replies seriously, scanning the area she takes in the various groups of undead.  As Reginald said, the vast majority are inert and possess no faculties greater than the average sheep.  The communicators move amongst them, they speak to the masses and to each other.  Their manner is robotic and dull, just as Robbie is.  No varying tone of voice, no inflection within the volume other than to express shame at a perceived failure or pleasure from a compliment given by Marcy. ‘It just seems to happen, if I need them to speak and communicate then they do, if not then they don’t.’

‘If you needed them all to speak would they do so?’ Reginald probes.

‘I’m not sure,’ she shakes her head slowly, ‘Darren, I told you about him before…’

‘Yes I recall,’ Reginald nods.

‘He could see everything they saw, had access to their collective conscious and could drive them by mere will but the power corrupted him.  He assumed he was the chosen one and they were there to serve him alone.’

‘But they…we do as you bid, it would appear we all have a connection to you.’

‘True, I can exert my will upon them…’ they both watch as every host body within sight turns to stare at Marcy, the masses and the communicators all ceasing their activity to stand silently.  Without a word spoken they all take a step to the left, a brief pause then a step to the right, ‘I can do that by mere will, I think it…will it to happen and they do it but then it relies on my ability the whole time.  I then have to think for everyone and understand every movement they make.  It feels simpler to have some that can speak and communicate, somehow they have greater intelligence while still retaining a submissive manner…to be honest Reginald,’ she smiles at him, the sound suddenly coming back as the compound once more goes back to what they were doing, ‘I don’t fully understand it, not in an intellectual level, but maybe on an instinctual level.’

‘I see,’ he replies, ‘but I didn’t comply with the request you just made, I did not turn to face you nor did I take the side steps.’

‘That’s because I didn’t want you to,’ she smiles, ‘I can though if you want me to.’

‘No thank you,’ he replies stiffly.

‘Are you sure Reggie?’ She smiles as he suddenly starts walking forward, his face looking down in horror at the movement his body is taking.

‘Marcy! What are you doing to me?’ He calls out in alarm.

‘Who me?’ She answers innocently.

‘Marcy…please stop this…’ He begs as she pushes him towards a female undead.  The female steps out from the crowd, walking towards Reginald, ‘Marcy,’ he calls with increasing concern, ‘what are you doing to me?’

‘Oh Reggie you should see your face,’ she laughs.

‘It’s Reginald,’ he shouts, staring in horror at the woman coming to stop in front of him.

‘Is it?’ She laughs.  Reginald’s hands lift up from his body, his palms facing the woman as his hands lift towards her chest area.

‘Marcy…no!’ He begs, unable to stop himself from hovering his hands inches away from her breasts.

‘Can I call you Reggie?’ She laughs harder.

‘No, my name is Reginald, no…Marcy…this is improper,’ he wails as his hands draw closer to the slack jawed zombie stood staring into the distance.

‘Oh Reggie,’ she laughs, tears rolling down her cheeks as she clutches her stomach’

‘It’s Reginald,’ he shouts, ‘now please desist from this activity, it is neither funny nor is it productive.’

‘Productive,’ she bursts out laughing harder, bending over from the spasms heaving through her body, ‘it’s not productive,’ she mimics him.

‘Oh my word, my hands are touching her bosoms…Marcy I can feel her breasts and I am sure this woman does not appreciate being touched in this manner.’ Marcy doesn't reply, the sight is too much for her.  She breaks the connection, watching through misted eyes as Reginald steps away, apologising profusely to the female undead, begging her forgiveness for the inappropriate action.

‘Oh Reggie,’ she sighs, slowly recovering her senses and wiping her cheeks as the soft chuckles keep coming.

‘Reginald,’ he replies sulkily, ‘please do not do that again, if you must exert your control over me please direct me to a chess board or even a Sudoku puzzle in future.’

‘Will do,’ she says.

‘But what I still am unable to fathom is why I have retained such a grasp of faculties where-as the other communicators are more like automatons, here I am, a living challenged person asking questions and having the same mental capacity as before when I was human,’ the control exerted over his body does little to dampen his curiosity as he continues, ‘are you able to explain that?’

‘Maybe you are what was needed at that time Reginald, someone who could think, count and take care of the hundreds of little things I don’t have time to think about.’

‘I see, so perhaps I am the brain to your brawn,’ he says, staring into the sky.

‘Brawn? I am not brawny…’

‘Ah, yes, perhaps brawn was the wrong word, maybe I am the brains to your beauty then, or your cunning wiles.’

‘So basically Reginald,’ she asks pointedly, ‘I am either brawny, or just a beauty with no intelligence.’

‘Ah,’ he says, realising the offence he may have caused.

‘Ah indeed,’ she stands up, walking towards him, ‘do you want to have another grope?’ She asks.

‘God no thanks, and while we’re on the subject is this not maybe the right time to put your…well those things away?’ He motions his head at her chest and the cleavage still threatening to spill out.

‘For calling me brawny, I will be leaving them like that all day…just for you,’ she smiles sweetly, almost laughing at he tuts and turns away.

Marcy stares at his back while he walks off, the little man with the sensible haircut plucking at his sleeves to straighten them out and pushing his glasses up his nose.  Despite his almost insolent manner she feels nothing but warm regard for the way he speaks to her, like having a prudish uncle around, constantly berating her for showing too much skin.

The High Street fills as groups are led back by the communicators, hundreds of hosts turned with the minimum of injuries inflicted.  She watches their steady shuffle as they follow each other into the area, being directed into the various shops and stores to keep them out of the glaring sun.

For the most part they look fresh, the days of getting by on limited food had reduced some body fat, causing some of them to become weak and looking emaciated.  Some faring better than others with a motley collection of clean, dressed ex-survivors and be-draggled specimens that didn’t look too far from natural death.

It was surprising to Marcy just how many had survived the outbreak.  Hiding in their homes and praying to go unnoticed until the nightmare ends.

The advancement of the intelligence the infection allowed the host to retain was further assisting the cause.  Those freshly turned were able to lead the others to those they knew were also hiding, and so it was that the main town was steadily purged of all human forms with very few losses.

Ten

‘How we doing?’ Jonas asks, walking back into the room.  The men had worked all through the night, taking it in turns to hammer at the solid wall with whatever makeshift tools they could find.  The shower pipes were soon discarded, the metal too soft and pliable to sustain the constant battering.

‘Three walls of concrete fucking blocks, the stupid fucking cunts built this fucking prison to last,’ someone says, spitting dust and filth from their mouth.

‘It was used to house terrorists back in the day,’ Jonas shrugs, ‘it had to be secure.’

‘What like fucking Alkyeeda?’

‘No you twat, this was well before them…Irish terrorism was the flavour back then.’

‘Careful what you say now fella’s,’ a tall man stands up straight, his strong Irish accent carrying clearly down the room.

‘I don’t give a mother-fucking shit about your fucking terrorists, you having a fucking political chat about the formation of this institution or are we about to perpetrate the greatest mother-fucking prison break-out this country has ever seen?’ Randall strides about the room, glaring at the sweat and grime encrusted men taking a break, ‘get your mother-fucking backs into it,’ he rages, eyes wide and bulging out nearly as much as the veins on his arms.

‘We’ll be putting something in his back soon enough,’ someone whispers quietly to Jonas.

‘Ssshh now, he’s doing a good job,’ Jonas replies, ‘looks like they’re on the last wall now.’

‘Yeah but Jonas, they’ve only made a small hole, no one can fit through that.’

‘True enough, but once they see the light on the other side they’ll work faster and tear those walls down with their bare hands.  Jonas watches carefully as the men work at the deep hole.  Two layers of concrete block already hacked through to reveal the third and final layer.  Some of the gym machines had been ripped apart, any length of metal being brought to the outer wall.  Many of them, like the iron pipes, had proved completely insufficient but for the first time since the outbreak began, every man within the five wings works together.  Black sweated alongside white, Catholic worked with Muslim, racists grunted with effort as they gripped the bars with militants.

One more glaring thing stood out, and that was the way every man revered Randall.  Even the truly psychotic killers found it difficult to oppose his explosive character.  The force of the man was staggering and it worried Jonas.  Made him concerned that when the time came they would find greater opposition than initially planned for.

Pursing his lips with concentration, Jonas thought through the anticipated action.  Maybe it would be better to do it now, lure Randall away somewhere and have him done in, but no, that would raise immediate questions and cause more violence.  At the point of getting out, but that would see all the men in one place, and an act like that just couldn’t be done unnoticed.

Maybe it didn’t need to be done, they could simply part company and move away quickly.  But leaving Randall on the loose would not only be a danger to them, but to mankind in general.  Jonas was a killer and had taken many lives despite only being convicted for the one murder.  But the killings he carried out were on people who knew the business they were in, it was bad play to kill someone unconnected, not simply for the bad press it drew but it was just morally wrong.

Same as having Randall on the loose would be morally wrong.  He’d find the nearest town and decimate it.  Tear the place apart and have every woman turned into his sex slaves within hours.  Shit, most of the men would do that given the chance but Randall…well he was something else.  Jonas just knew that to leave Randall alive would only invite trouble.

‘We almost there you nasty sons of bitches, get your mother-fucking hands on that bar and drive it in, come on man drive that bar in, command that wall to break, we so close now I can just see them mother-fucking titties on the other side of that wall.  A big ass pair of juicy titties all ready to suck on, they waiting for you, get that wall down,’ Randall urges the men to work harder, the exhaustion clear on their faces.  Days of hardly eating, sleepless nights and constant fighting had weakened them.  Still they grinned like fools at the idiotic chanting the man threw at them.  His enthusiasm was infectious, that hard edged American voice speaking like a full on gangster from the movies.

‘Oh there it is, the last bit of mother-fucking wall, I told you we would break this wall, I told your dumb asses this mother-fucking wall could not withstand us, hit it….hit it harder, drive that bar in…come on, one two three, strike! One two three, strike! Put some mother-fucking energy into it, come on now one two three, strike that wall! Oh baby there it is, the outside is there…look at the world beyond your wall you crazy motherfuckers.’ The bar drops with a clang as an almighty cheer erupted.  Men flooding into the room, desperate to peer through the tiny hole in the wall and the clear sky beyond it.  Handshakes took place, men patted each other’s shoulders, Randall stands back with his arms crossed, feet planted wide apart and grinning like a maniac.

‘Come on now you bitches, this ain't over, this ain't no mother-fucking time to be stroking each other, get that bar up and smash that hole like it’s some mother-fucking pussy.’

‘Told you,’ Jonas sighs watching the men grab the bars with renewed energy, buzzing with adrenalin.  They throw themselves into the effort, slamming the bars into the gap, sending chunks of masonry and concrete flipping into the room.  The hole widened, bit by painstaking bit it got bigger.  What first could fit a pencil through was soon large enough for a fist, aggressive shouts scream out, hands bleed onto the bar as the blisters formed on the sweaty palms rip open.

‘Now hold on you motherfuckers,’ Randall bellows, the men pause, breathing hard from the exertion.  He moves to the wall, leaning through the now formidable dent and pushing his bald head through the hole, ‘I see something,’ he yells.  Drawing back in he stares at the men watching him expectantly, ‘I see big juicy titties out there,’ he grins, an explosion of laughter bursting in the room. Jonas looks sharply at the man stood next to him grinning like a fool, ‘sorry Jonas,’ the man stifles his smile, looking awkwardly at the floor.

‘Not long now, is everyone ready?’ Jonas asks after a weighted pause.

‘Yeah, tooled up and ready,’ the man nods respectfully, ‘so where we going, when we get out like?’

‘Mainland, we’ll go for a city, get some supplies and work it out from there once we see just how bad it is.’

‘Never thought I’d see the outside,’ the man says quietly, a double life sentence for multiple murder meant he’d be in his eighties before he could even be considered for release, and he also knew that many inmates simply didn’t reach that age.

‘Same for most of us,’ Jonas replies, ‘not exactly the freedom we had in mind, but…’

‘Fucking hell Jonas, anything’s better than this shit hole. Listen are we doing him as soon as we get outside, only I was thinking that we still got the outer wall to go yet and that fucker’s covered in bastard razor wire.’

‘I want him done as soon as we get out of the prison,’ Jonas says quickly.

‘I get what you’re saying Jonas but think about it, that fucker gets ‘em going good, we should let him get that outer wall down before we do him.’

‘That outer wall,’ Jonas stares hard at the man, ‘is reinforced concrete, you know what that means? Means it’s got solid steel running through it, there ain't no way anyone is getting that wall down unless we find a fucking bulldozer.’

‘What you motherfuckers talking about?’ Randall marches at them, glaring suspiciously.

‘The outer wall, Jonas says it’s reinforced concrete,’ the man says smoothly, ‘got steel wire running through it…’

‘I know what reinforced means you dumb motherfucker,’ Randall shakes his head at the audacity of it.

‘A barbell ain't gonna get that wall down Randall,’ Jonas says.

‘You got a plan then?’ Randall asks, his voice transforming to a quiet respectful tone.

‘Yep,’ Jonas nods, locking eyes with the American.

‘And you ain't gonna share it with no dangerous motherfucker like me are you Jonas? No sir, you gonna keep that plan tucked up tight in that brain.’

‘You got it,’ Jonas smiles without a trace of humour in his eyes.

‘I’d do the same,’ Randall shrugs, holding eye contact with Jonas, ‘just don’t be thinking of double crossing me Jonas, I got mother-fucking eyes in the back of my mother-fucking head.’

‘Sure you have Randall,’ Jonas nods.

‘We should team up once we get out, me and you Jonas, we can rule the mother-fucking roost, ain’t no motherfucker can stop us if we work together.’

‘I was thinking of that myself,’ Jonas smiles, nodding with enthusiasm, ‘it’d be good to have someone watching my back.’

‘I don’t like any other motherfucker in this pen Jonas, what’s the plan for the outside? You got any ideas?’

‘Yeah course, we stay local, go into the towns and have some fun, get our shit together and find some ground.’

‘Motherfucker,’ Randall exclaims with a broad grin, ‘that’s a good ass plan Jonas, we find us some pussy, get some liquor and live like kings.’

Jonas matches the broad grin, giving a laugh as Randall walks off laughing.

‘Dumb fucking cunt,’ the man shakes his head, still smiling.

‘Yep,’ Jonas replies.

‘What the fuck was all that about Randy?’ A muscular inmate sidles up to the big American, speaking quietly.

‘They got something cooking,’ Randall lowers his head, keeping his voice low, ‘once we get out they’ll go for me, Jonas probably got them shanked up and ready.’

‘Cunts,’ the man growls.

‘Get our boys ready, soon as we all get out we take Jonas and his fuck ass gang,’ Randall moves away before the quiet conversation can be noticed.  The man stays still for a few seconds, watching the inmates work at the wall.  He kicks some rubble at his feet, waiting for a minute before he seemingly thinks of something else he needs to do and turns to walk out the room, heading to the central canteen to spread the word.

‘Quiet, there’s one of Randall’s blokes now,’ the leader of C wing says quietly.  The two men stand quietly, waiting for the pensive looking inmate to walk through.

‘He’s gone,’ the B wing leader whispers, ‘what were you saying?’

‘I said them two fuckers will stitch us up, fucking guarantee it,’ C wing says.

‘What Jonas and Randall?’ B wing leans in, frowning at the suggestion.

‘Fuck yeah, thick as thieves them two, I bet they jacked up that fucking meeting between them.’

‘Why would they stitch us up?’ B wing asks.

‘Fucking hell mate, ‘ave I gotta spell it out for ya? There’s what, like five hundred blokes here that all want to shag something, get pissed and eat tons of food…if this thing is as bad as everyone is sayin’ then how the fuck are five hundred blokes all gonna find something to fuck and eat?’

‘I get it,’ B wing nods, ‘they’ll cut the numbers down then?’

‘Fuck they will,’ C wing urges, ‘they’ll want the spoils for themselves won’t they, two big fuckers like that, they don’t want us about being a thorn in the ointment.’

‘Thorn in the side, or a fly in the ointment,’ B wing says.

‘Whatever, my point is they’ll fuckin’ ‘ave us soon as we get out, we gotta get in there first, you saw those looks between ‘em at the meeting, like fucking funny signals and shit.’

‘Yeah, yeah course I did,’ B wing nods confidently.

‘And did you hear Jonas, “so Randall what do you think of this plan?” They was in it together.’

‘Yeah,’ B wings continues to nod, ‘what d’you reckon then? We team up or something like that?’

‘Fuck yeah,’ C wing looks round before continuing with the conspiring, ‘we gotta do this mate, we’ll be fucking killed if we don’t, this is like life and death right here.’

‘Alright, get our boys tooled up then, when you wanna do it?’

‘Wait for them to make the move,’ C wing says, ‘but for fucks sake keep it quiet.’

In the day room of A wing, the men continue to attack the wall, increasing the size of the hole and working at the several layers of concrete blocks.  With the light pouring through the hole the energy levels remain high as men whisper, passing information discretely, the hushed conversations are noted by everyone else as they too have their own scheming chats.

The inmates, desperate to show that nothing is going on act overly friendly towards each other, laughing at crap jokes, patting each other on the back with forced humour.

‘Jonas,’ the leader of D wing nods in greeting, standing back from taking his turn on the barbell and patting the dust from his blue prison trousers.

‘One of my boys just said B and C were having a nice chat,’ D wing remarks casually, rubbing his hands and sending a shower of dust particles falling to the ground.

Jonas lifts his eyebrows and turns the edges of his mouth down, tilting his head at the same time with a look of mild interest.

‘Proper little chat too, lots of looking about and funny winks going on,’ D wing continues, he smears the sweat from his face, grimacing at the greasy film now coating his hands.

‘Were they now?’ Jonas says quietly.

‘Aye, reckon they’ll be planning something nice for the rest of us.’

‘Don’t seem right that, two against everyone else,’ Jonas lets the words hang in the air.

D wing nods, staying quiet and unsure how to proceed.

Bloody hell, how the fuck did he get in charge, Jonas thinks, still, he could be useful. ‘They ain't the only ones that can team up are they?’

D wing nods slowly, nervously glancing about and acting overly casual, ‘Me and you then Jonas?’

‘I think we might have to,’ Jonas gives a sad smile, expressing the villainy of the others conspiring against them, ‘we don’t want to be left out in the cold now do we?’

‘No, no way,’ D wing shakes his head, eyes narrowing.

‘Just keep watch then, anything happens then we work together, and watch that fucker Randall, I don’t trust him one little bit, I reckon he’ll go for you quickly.’

‘Me?’ D wing looks surprised, taking a step closer to Jonas, ‘why me?’

‘You’re the one he fears the most, didn’t you see the way he was looking at you in that meeting, couldn’t take his eyes off you.’

‘Shit,’ D wing exhales, an angry expression blossoming across his face, ‘that dirty cunt.’

Jonas nods, looking at the man directly, ‘he is a dirty cunt, and he’ll come after you, you get him first and my boys’ll watch your back.’

‘Thanks Jonas, cheers for the heads up, we always got on well me and you Jonas.’

‘Old school, we gotta stick together.’

‘You’re a canny bastard Jonas, I’ll give you that,’ Jonas’s man says quietly as the D wing leader strolls away to get the message to his men.

‘Survival,’ Jonas replies, ‘we ain’t no different to any other fucking species.’

Eleven

‘Reginald, what are these three unmarked buildings on this map?’ Marcy hands him the book, watching as the small man peers closely at the point her finger indicates.

‘Prisons, those are the three prisons,’ he replies.

‘Prisons? Of course…they might still be alive, how many inmates do they hold?’

‘One of them closed just a little while ago so that only leaves two, this one is the sex offenders unit and the other is Parkhurst, a category B prison that mostly contained offenders serving long sentences with a small section on remand. The sex offender unit only has about two hundred or so, but the other one has approximately six hundred, but that fluctuates as the prison service has been closing many institutions lately so some of the others were doubling up…’

‘How do you know all this?’ She asks, mildly surprised at his depth of knowledge.

‘How do you not know this?’ He replies, ‘you lived on this Island too, it’s common knowledge if you read the local papers and attend the local meetings.’

‘Yeah, I wasn’t big on doing that kind of thing.  We’re going for the prisons next, should be an easy acquisition.’

‘Did you just say acquisition?’ Reginald asks.

‘Yes, why?’

‘Oh no reason,’ he looks away.

‘What?’ She asks.

‘It’s a good word,’ he shrugs, ‘that’s all.’

‘Impressed you did it?’ She smiles, ‘not just a pretty face you know.’

‘Clearly not, I think we’re almost done here, there are some smaller streets that can be checked on the way if you wanted to move out now, or we can wait for the last few to come back?’

‘Time is of the essence my dear, we are moving out now,’ Marcy steps away, staring down the street at the barricade.  Her face barley flickers with concentration as the horde suddenly animate and start heading down the road towards the high make-shift wall.  The first ones to reach it start work immediately, clambering to the top to start throwing items down.  As the huge numbers join in the area becomes a hive of activity, thousands of pairs of hands all working together and in silence, taking the wall apart.

As the barricade gets smaller it reveals the vehicles used as the base, cars and vans parked end on end.  The hosts make light work of pushing them aside, the sheer press of bodies sliding even the heaviest of vehicles away.  A gap forms, large enough for several people to walk through side by side.

Marcy strides down the street, watching as the horde all cease their work and stand back to the sides, quietly watching her walk past with Reginald, the communicators behind them.  The horde filter through, hundreds and hundreds of undead bodies shuffling through the gap in the barricade to follow their leader to the next target.

It felt good to be moving again, the action of progression.  Marcy smiles at the thought, liking the phrase.  Progression.  That’s what they were doing, progressing.  Building a firm base for their species to live and function.  Her mind flowed to the end plan; the fort she had heard so much about.  Howie’s fort.  Darren had explained how it remained defended, how none of them had breached the walls having been stopped in their tracks on the ground around it.  He also said it contained thousands of people, and she imagined that word would spread amongst the humans and many more would go there.

This wasn’t personal against Howie, nor any of them.  But if that fort did have so many people then she needed to take it.  Not in a full on attack like Darren did. No, something else, something subtle.  The cities would still have many left in them, more barricaded areas like this one.  They could be taken one by one, but that fort was something she could work from.  A safe place where thousands of hosts could stay in safety.

The plan was there, gather as many hosts as possible and lead them to the mainland.  But the next step was the prisons.  Her face flinched at the idea of turning sex offenders.  There was enough of the human traits left in her to feel the repulsion towards the nefarious predators that had inflicted so much pain on their own kind.

She would take them, the end result would be the same, she knew that.  But how they were taken would be different.  The regret she felt at the suffering the humans went through on passing through wouldn’t be there this time, these men could suffer slowly and die painful deaths.  She might even take a few herself, just for the pleasure of seeing that suffering.

‘April,’ she calls out, her mind working ahead as she forms the next plans.

April jogs forward, falling into step beside Marcy, ‘Yes Marcy.’

‘Find me the prettiest girls we’ve got, make sure none of them have visible injuries, and none of them smell, then get them ready at the front.’

‘Yes Marcy,’ April replies, starting to drop back.

‘Oh and April, make sure they look good, use sunglasses or hair to cover their eyes, I want to see some legs too.’

‘Okay Marcy.’

‘One more thing April, you’re very pretty so you’ll be with them, make sure you’ve got some sunglasses or something for yourself.’

‘Thanks Marcy,’ April beams with pleasure, the other communicators hearing the compliment smile appreciatively at April, feeling genuine delight at the praise she received.

‘I am assuming, from that conversation, that you are intending to use the same method of entry again but on a larger scale.  It would seem that you are going to take advantage of the men within the prison being sex offenders and also the fact they’ve been incarcerated for long periods to tempt them with our most aesthetically pleasing living challenged persons.’

‘Reginald, why didn’t you just ask if I was planning the same trick again?’

‘I did,’ he frowns in confusion, ‘may I ask, are you planning on leading this venture yourself, only that it does somewhat expose you to risk and I fear that we would be left without a leader should anything untoward take place.’

‘Untoward? In a prison full of sex offenders? Perish the thought.’

‘Marcy, it sometimes feels that you are mocking me,’ he says with his nose in the air.

‘Oh Reggie my dear, if I do then it’s with love not malice.’

‘It’s Reginald,’ the instant reply comes quickly from his lips, ‘I should advise that this plan is fraught with danger and urge you to find someone else to lead.’

‘Are you volunteering? You’d look good in a frock, I can get some of the girls to give you a make-over on the way if that helps.’

‘Good heavens I shall do no such thing,’ he exclaims, completely missing the sarcasm, ‘no I was rather thinking of April, she seems a steady enough girl with a good head on her shoulders.’

‘I’ll give it some thought Reggie but don’t be disappointed if I do choose to go in.’

‘By the way, I have meaning to ask you…’

‘You are just full of questions aren’t you Reggie.’

‘My name is Reginald, and yes, I am full of questions as I find it the most satisfactory way in which to establish information and thereby increase my knowledge, how did you turn the guard when you went in? There isn’t a mark on him.’

‘Robbie?’ Marcy laughs, ‘bless him, he was rather captivated by my boobs so I gave him a kiss, couldn’t have him leaving humanity with having never kissed a girl or felt a…’

‘Yes thank you! I get the picture Marcy,’ Reginald huffs, looking away with a dour expression.

‘Has that offended you?’ Marcy smiles.

‘And why would it do that?’ Reginald asks, ‘you foresaw the easiest and most logical method of gaining entry and in doing so reduced the risk to yourself, no I am not offended.’

‘You speak like that pointy eared bloke from Star Trek.’

‘Doctor Spock? I have had similar comparisons in the past and although I am a committed fan of both the series and the old movies, although I hasten to add, not the newer movies, I would not compare myself to Doctor Spock.’

‘Not offended then, maybe just a little jealous instead.’

She watches his face bluster at the implication, delighting in the easy way he reacts to the gentle teasing. ‘I was not jealous! I merely asked on the method you used to gain entry.’

‘Oh my mistake, you just looked a little jealous.’

‘I can assure you I was not, and am not, jealous.’

‘Okay, you can have a kiss too if you want.’

‘I do not want a kiss, thank you for the offer.’

‘Sure? Oh come here my little Reggie, give Marcy a kiss,’ she steps closer to him, laughing as he blanches away with a look of horror. ‘I know you want a kiss,’ she pouts her lips, pushing them out as far as possible.

‘I do not want a kiss,’ he protests.

‘I can do that controlling thing you like so much Reggie, I can make you kiss me!’ She laughs as he scampers away, yelping with fright.

‘Marcy, are these okay so far?’ April calls out, leading a small group of undead women from the bulk of the horde.

‘Wow,’ Marcy smiles at the sight of the gorgeous girls.  All of them with long hair pulled down to hide any bite marks on their necks.  Slim figured, fuller bodied, blonds through to raven haired and all of them with stunning looks, ‘very good, very very good,’ Marcy grins at April, she nods back, glowing from the praise.

‘Reggie, what do you think?’ Marcy calls out to the man now walking several metres away and pretending not to notice the girls.

‘Reginald,’ he says quickly, ‘oh…I see…yes I think they are…er…very er…suitable for the task you have in mind,’ he stammers.

‘But are they kissable?’ Marcy asks with an edge to her voice.

‘Marcy…don’t you dare,’ Reginald warns, his voice rising in panic.

‘Girls, I think Reggie needs a kiss,’ she bursts out laughing as the gorgeous group, led by April, move towards Reginald, all of them smiling and showing him their charm.

‘Marcy, you’re stopping me from running away…this is not fair…let me run away…oh my, yes thank you, hello very nice to meet you, shall we just shake hands instead? No…oh right...oh another one…yes well this is very pleasant and yes hello to you too, oh another kiss…Marcy! This is intolerable…yes my dear I am very pleased to meet you, really there is no need to keep kissing me…’

‘Okay girls, I think Reginald has had enough for now, we don’t want him getting idea’s now do we,’ Marcy watches as the girls remove themselves from being draped over the small man, forming back into their group.  Reginald walks slowly onwards, re-adjusting his skewed glasses, smoothing his hair down and plucking at his shirt sleeves, the whole action being done with a faraway look in his eye.

‘So what’s your verdict now Reggie?’ Marcy calls out, exchanging a grin with April.

‘Reginald,’ he says quietly, ‘I think they’ll do fine,’ he mutters.

‘Hear that April? Reginald gives his seal of approval.’

‘Oh I am very glad,’ April replies with absolute sincerity.

Marcy stares ahead, watching the heat shimmer on the road and, just as with the humans, she feels the oppression of the heat bearing down.  Those inmates won’t know what’s hit them, she smiles gently.

Twelve

‘There is it you motherfuckers, there is the promised gate to the outside world, I said I would get you out and I mother fucking done it,’ Randall stands next to the man size hole in the wall, his strong hands rip the last section down creating a gap big enough for the largest man to get through.

Men stand with hands on knees, panting and dripping sweat onto the rubble strewn floor, chests heaving from the final frantic exertion.  Nerves already frayed from the incessant scheming and whispered conversation, long looks and quick furtive glances, nods passed, hand s pressing against each other as weapons are passed from man to man.  Razor blades pilfered from the tuck-shop, iron bars put ready in reach, dumbbells strategically placed.  Every man within the prison knew something was going to happen.  It was just a matter of when, and who would make the first move.

‘Jonas you crazy motherfucker,’ Randall singled the man out with a huge white toothed grin, ‘you had this idea so you should go first man, take the position of honour and slip your ass through that wall.’

‘Careful, don’t put your back to him,’ an inmate stood behind Jonas covers his mouth and whispers.  Jonas nods back, signalling that he heard.

‘That would be my pleasure Randall,’ Jonas grins warmly, making sure he looks directly at the American for fear one of the other idiots would give a not so discrete nod and spark the fight here and now.  Jonas walks through the men, shifting his gaze from Randall to the hole.  His instincts scream inside to scan everyone and watch for movements, but the tension has increased so much in the last few minutes that the mere act of looking could spark it.  Enough safety measures have been put in place, every wing has men strategically placed to attack.  Faces smile, heads nod with pleasure while hands grip weapons tightly. ‘Well gentlemen, I would like to say that serving with you in this fine establishment has been a pleasure,’ he pauses for effect, ‘but it fucking hasn’t,’ he adds to a ripple of laughter, ‘here’s to pastures new.’

Jonas grips the edges of the hole, willing himself to turn round and go out backwards but refusing to show a weakness now.  Presenting his back he grimaces, waiting for a blade to plunge in or a bar to ram into his skull.  Keeping his movements purposefully slow he scrabbles through the hole, bunching his big shoulders together.

The intense heat hits him like a hammer, the concrete paving beneath the hole reflecting the intense rays back into his eyes, causing him to squint.  Sweat drips down his face, his hands feel slippery as they grip the rough edges.  He pauses on the final step, just a few feet down and he’ll be out.  He lowers down onto his backside, ungainly and vulnerable.  His feet push out until they dangle over the lip, carefully he lowers himself down, eyes clenching shut as he waits for the blow to the back of his head.

Opening his eyes he realises he’s stood on the ground, the final drop not registering within his mind so convinced was he of the impending attack.  A slow grin forms on his face, he lifts his head to the sun, feeling the warmth of the rays.  Breathing deeply and for the first time in days his nose doesn't fill with the stench of decaying bodies, shit and stale sweat.

Turning round he grins up at the hole, at the face of Randall staring out at him.

‘Come on mate, it’s fucking lovely out here,’ Jonas motions with his head for the man to come out.

‘I don’t need no mother-fucking invitation, hey…’ Randall turns back to the room behind him, ‘fuck y’all,’ he grins and jumps out, athletically landing on the ground.  A loud cheer erupts from inside, the sudden noise causing both Jonas and Randall to tense and make ready.  They glare at each other, hearts racing, fists clenched.  Slowly they both relax, wry smiles form as they nod with respect and turn back to the hole.

‘What you fucking waiting for?’ Jonas bellows.  Men start dropping through, and each man pauses at the sight of the outside world.  The beautiful sun high in the sky, deep blue sky and glorious fresh air.  Jonas and Randall stand under the hole, helping each man out, something changes, an act unspoken as the impact of getting out takes over from any other intended plan.

The men clap each other on the back, some move to stand on their own staring up at the sky. Others get carried away, cheering and whooping noisily, the sound is infectious and carries to inside the room, creating a sense of urgency to be out of the place, as if the hole will close up if the exodus isn’t completed instantly.

The leaders of B and C wing, hanging back and waiting to see who makes the first move, cast nervous glances at each other, minute shrugs as they show their confusion.  They too get caught up in the fever of escape and quickly join the line ready to drop down.

The last man stands in the hole, a few feet higher than everyone else and cheering with one arm raised in the air.  The men respond, whistling and screaming jubilantly as he drops down.  They stand there looking round, the familiar coupled with the unfamiliar.  The familiar from the general presentation of the prison, the same hues of grey and brown mixed with harsh concrete.  The unfamiliar from not having been to this side of the building before, this not being part of the exercise area and only used for vehicle transport and officers.

The cheering and jubilation ebb away, voices slowly dropping in volume as the initial excitement wears off.  Inmates become aware of who they’re stood near, where their wing mates are.  The smiles fade as the tension soars, faces become grim.  Most of them, in their haste at getting out, had dropped or simply not picked up the weapons they had been eyeing earlier.

Movement starts very casually as men start shuffling, creating space between each other.  Eyes warily scanning other faces, heads turning to take in all sides.  Feet scuff the ground, hands disappear inside pockets to hold the smaller weapons some of them had secreted.  Wings began to form as the natural inclination to be part of a pack takes over their instincts.  Jonas stepped carefully, his hands loose down at his sides, head slightly lowered to increase his peripheral vision.

Around five hundred men merge, move, sidle and shuffle into five distinct gangs, each one headed with their leader front and central.  Still nothing was said, just long hard looks.  Fists balled, arms tensed as feet planted wide apart, the conspiring they had all taken part in causing the delay as they each wait for the other to start.

Jonas watches Randall closely.  D wing looks to Jonas, B and C look to each other, the leaders keep their expressions plain, revealing nothing.

D wing switches his gaze to Randall, remembering the words Jonas had told him and watching for any movement from the American.  Seconds tick away, minutes form and drift as the silent stand-off continues.  The unused adrenalin starts to fade away causing legs and hands to tremble slightly and the men tense their limbs to hide the shakes for fear of being seen to be scared.

‘We gonna stand here all day?’ Jonas’ deep voice penetrates the silence, all eyes flit to him standing there with arms crossed, he looks round at the assembled men. ‘I guess this is the point where we all start taking chunks out of each other,’ he adds.

‘Why don’t we each take a direction, like one goes north, the other south…that kind of thing,’ D wing says.

‘Great idea you fucking dumb-ass, only there are five mother fucking wings and only four mother-fucking points of the compass,’ men snigger at the quick witted reply from Randall, D wing blushes with both anger and embarrassment.

‘Two wings could go together,’ B wing adds with a quick nod towards C wing who nods back.

‘I go where the fuck I please,’ Randall shouts, his eyes wide and fierce.

‘Which direction do you want then? You choose what you want,’ Jonas offers.

‘I don’t mother-fucking know, I’m not from this fuck-ass place, how the shit should I know where the fucking towns are.’

‘The biggest town is about three miles that way, which is south,’ Jonas says.

‘You think I’m gonna trust you? Hell, you probably send me to some damn village full of fags and queers.’

‘You’ll fit in well then,’ someone shouts from the back of one of the groups.

‘Who the fuck said that? Step up motherfucker, step up and say that shit again, I dare you! I fucking double dare you with a mother-fucking cherry on the top.’

Jonas winces as Randall steps forward glaring angrily around, demanding to know what pussy assed motherfucker said that.

‘Step back Randall,’ D wing says.

‘The fuck did you say?’ Randall turns to the man.

‘I said,’ D wing repeats slowly, ‘step back so we can sort this out.’

‘Who the fuck are you to tell me to step back? What are you? The mother-fucking playground monitor?’

‘You know what,’ D wing steps forward, ‘I’ve put up with your fucking voice for years, that fucking noise is like a gnat buzzing away.’

‘What the fuck is a nat? Speak English you fucking dumb-ass.’

‘Yeah I am English,’ D wing snaps, his arms dropping from being crossed, he strides at Randall.  The restraint now gone, out in the open with no guards, no weapons, just man on man and D wing was serving a life sentence for dealing with pricks like this.  Randall stands stock still, his arms loose at his sides as he lets the other man come on.

Jonas flicks his gaze between them, waiting for the perfect moment to join in.  D wing bulls into Randall, arms flailing as he loses control, going into a psychotic rage.  Randall stays calm and steps quickly back, using the leader of D wing’s momentum against him.  D wing stumbles from expecting to find resistance and finding nothing but air.  Randall is on him instantly, pulling the man’s head down and holding it in place as he repeatedly brings his right knee up into his face.  The crack of the nose bone smashing carries above the dull thud of the impact.  Jonas hesitates, realising just how hard and skilled the American is. If he rushes in now he could end up being alone, fighting against a much stronger opponent.

D wing pulls free, staggering away and holding his hands to his face, blood pouring between his fingers, ‘Jonas you fucking cunt,’ D wing’s voice is muffled but still carries.  The implication is clear, Randall snaps his head to glare at Jonas.

‘Fuck it, NOW!’ Jonas screams, men from all sides join the roar as they surge in.  Randall dances back, punching out at anyone within range.  Carnage ensues as violent men explode with fury, full of fear, nerves, excitement and they drive in.  All of them in the blue and grey colours of the prison clothing.  None of them able to distinguish who is from which wing.  All-out battle takes places.  Men punch friends, head-butt associates, kick at cell mates.  Razor blades held between fingers slice into faces, sharpened toothbrushes stab and snap into necks. Socks filled with rubble get swung round, smashing cheek bones and fracturing skulls.

Randall fights like a demon, his sheer brutal strength demolishing every opponent that comes at him.  His men gather round him, desperate to prove their worth and show their loyalty.  The other wings disintegrate as every man fights for his own survival.  Jonas and his close associates stick together, forming a tight circle as they batter at anything within reach.

Men, who minutes before clapped and cheered each other for the freedom they had gained, kill and die without discrimination.  Bleeding out on the sun scorched concrete, slipping into unconsciousness never to awaken.  Feet stamp down on the fallen, the fighting is dirty, eyes gouged out, ears bitten off.  Anything goes.  These men were held away from society for a reason and they show it now.  Weak men become warriors as they launch from foe to foe, strong men become overwhelmed at the numbers around them, becoming confused who to attack and where to go.

Minutes go by as the killing continues, the exhaustion starts to show as the men stagger away to bend over, breathing hard and fighting for breath.  Men lean against other, trading feeble blows.  Some find inner strength and lash out with a final ferocity, ending their opponents life and staggering away to drop down.

Jonas and his group stand their ground, chests heaving, knuckles and hands bloodied, feet sore from stamping and kicking.  Cuts and bruises on all their faces.

‘Jonas you motherfucker,’ Randall screams, ‘me and you right now, we end this.’

‘Don’t do it Jonas, we stick together,’ one of his men mutters between gritted teeth.

Randall starts moving his group towards Jonas, their faces set and determined.  Everyone else pauses, watching the action play out.  The two titans of the prison about to go head to head.

Jonas stares at the oncoming group, his face bitter with anger and regret.  This didn’t play out the way he intended.  Now there’s too many of them, he glances round, nowhere to go, no place to run and hide.  There is only two ways out of this and one of them involves dying.

‘What’s up motherfucker,’ Randall taunts him with an easy grin, ‘you wishing you spent more time in the gym now or what? Sat in your cell being all lord of the manner and now look at you, you sweating like a rapist Jonas, your face is all red and shit, out of shape Jonas,’ he laughs, a grim disturbing sound, ‘hell, I’m not even warmed up yet motherfucker.’

Jonas pauses, the future mapped out.  Not just the immediate future which he knows involves his life ceasing to be within the next few minutes, but the future for mankind.  Men like Randall will rule from now on, their strength and character will give them power over everyone else.  Jonas suddenly feels very sorry. Sorry for every bad thing he ever did, sorry that men like him and Randall walk this earth.  He stands up straight, letting his arms drop and walking quickly towards Randall. His men call him back, too fearful to break their rank and go after him.

‘I’m done Randall, I’m too old for this shit.  Leave my men out of this, they just did what your blokes did and followed their leader, they’ll follow you from now on.’

Randall drops the act, standing with a serious look on his face.  He nods at Jonas, ‘you got my word on that,’ he says softly.

‘Do it then,’ Jonas growls.

‘Oh I will Jonas,’ Randall launches in, grabbing Jonas by the throat with one massive hand.  His fingers dig into the sides of his windpipe, squeezing hard and compressing the small, fragile trachea.  Jonas gargles at the suffocation, dropping to his knees as Randall increases the pressure of his grip.  Eyes wide, his mouth smiling demonically.  Jonas stares up, his eyes bulging and filling with blood.  His hands flail weakly at Randall’s arm, his vision blurs, sound gone, only his conscious remains.  That inner part that makes him human.  Silently he gives thanks that he won’t be a part of the suffering he knows men like Randall will give out.  His body shuts down, the brain, starved of oxygen, begins diverting the remaining blood to the vital organs.  Jonas slips first into unconsciousness, then dies.  A nasty brutal death delivered one handed by a man of almighty strength.

Randall stands back, releasing the body and watching as it falls to the side.  He stares down, amazed at watching the very second the life went away.  Silence everywhere, Jonas’s men stand ready as Randall slowly lifts his gaze up to them.

‘Prisoners don’t make promises,’ he says softly.  His men surge in, led by Randall as he attacks the remaining men.  They’re ripped apart, destroyed and killed within seconds.  Every other man just stands watching with a sense of sickening unease growing in their stomachs.

As the last one of Jonas’s men falls, Randall spins round, glaring at the fifty or so men that remain standing, albeit covered in blood, cuts and bruises.

‘You men,’ Randall booms, ‘have proven yourselves worthy of life, you are mother-fucking warriors born to survive.  Well, here we are, the last men standing.  Crazy dumb-ass motherfuckers too stupid to die, I want you with me,’ he bellows, ‘I want strong men with me, fuck your wings, fuck what happened inside that place, this is a new life we got, we stick together and we’ll survive, hell, not just survive but we’ll live like mother-fucking kings surrounded by big ass titties.’

Some of the men nod quickly, stepping forward to show their allegiance.  The few that move quickly prompt the others.  The sense of power shifting instantly as all eyes take in the new leader.  Not one man stands back, every one of them knows the outcome if they decide anything different.

Randall grins at them, nodding back as they slowly converge.

‘Now…how the fuck do we get out of this shit hole?’ He asks with a smile.

Thirteen

Half a mile down the road, a world away from the violence erupting behind the walls of Parkhurst, Marcy stands in front of a vast horde of undead.  Thousands of bodies, fresh from the kill.  The injuries sustained are minor, an explicit instruction, a command willed by Marcy that only the most essential of cuts be made to ensure the infection is passed.

To the casual observer, this horde would appear to be a protest gathering outside a maximum security prison housing the country’s worst sexual offenders.

A closer look shows the thousands of red bloodshot eyes staring blissfully towards one woman stood at the very front

‘Well the main gate is open so I think we should just send them in and wait here,’ Reginald says, ‘there really is no need for you to go in, April is more than capable of leading this venture.’

‘Okay okay Reginald, you’ve made your point, in fact you’ve made it many times in the last hour.  I’ll go part of the way and make sure they can get in but I won’t enter the area where the inmates are, are you happy with that?’

‘I would agree to those terms,’ Reginald sniffs, ‘but I don’t believe for one second you will be able to resist going all the way in.’

‘April, you are going to lead the girls in and I will stay outside…unless,’ Marcy adds quickly, ‘something develops which requires me to go in.’

‘That is not fair, the something could be anything which only you would know and then tell me about later.’

‘Well if you’re so sure I’ll be telling you about it later then why are you so worried about me going in?’

‘In case there isn’t a later for you to tell me about?’

‘Wait, I’m lost…oh forget it, look I’m going in to make sure they can actually get in, wait here,’ she tuts, shaking her head and moving off.  April and the girls walking just behind her.

The main gate, this being the large solid metal vehicle access gate was slightly ajar, allowing enough room for the women to walk through, entering a long vehicle access bay with raised walkways on either side and doors leading into security control buildings.

Marking on the road surface indicated to stop here. Marcy looks with interest, having never before seen the inside of a prison other than television documentaries. Ahead of the long vehicle bay was another high wall, topped with coils of razor wire and a spike topped metal gate set in the middle.

She frowns at noticing this gate is also ajar, looking at the inner gate, then back to the outer gate she guessed the hasty exit the guards would have made as they came to realise the world around them was falling.  Marcy leads the girls through the inner gate into the prison grounds proper.

Everything spick and span, the concrete road leads curved to the solid squat buildings ahead.  Windows narrow and high, firmly set in place and never opened.  The grounds looked sculpted and manicured, more like the grounds of an historic house than a prison.  Lawns cut short but showing signs of unimpeded growth.  Edges neatly trimmed, flower beds laid out in exact patterns and free from any signs of weeds.

Pristine benches dot the area, each one clean and looking well maintained.  It was amazing that a place like this, used to keep the sickest people safely away from society could have such an elegant and beautiful setting.  Most public parks were covered in graffiti, littered with waste with foul mouthed youths swigging from bottle of cider, used syringes by the bushes and dog shit everywhere.  Something about the sight made her feel disgusted, that the evil of the men within could be allowed to live in such surroundings.  She figures it would be the inmates themselves who kept the grounds so pristine, but even that thought disgusted her.  That they could work in the open, creating something so nice while everyone else suffered the daily toil of working dead end jobs, struggling to make ends meet while meeting the expectations of the communities within which they lived.

There should be piles of concrete delivered every day and a big stack of sledge hammers for them to use while smashing it up.  You want to eat? Then you work.  Not hovering about tending an already pristine lawn but proper work, hard work.  The kind of work that millions of men had to endure every day in order to earn enough money to feed their families.

This isn’t right. Something about this plan makes her feel uncomfortable, she looks at the grounds then at the girl who seem so perfectly suited to the exquisite surroundings.

‘April, run back and bring me men, I want the biggest, ugliest and nastiest looking men we’ve got.’

‘Yes Marcy,’ April jogs off quickly leaving Marcy staring with determination at the building ahead.  Giving these girls over will be rewarding the men inside, giving them a final act of pleasure before they’re turned.  The act of turning is reward enough, giving them a treat as they go sickens her.

They pause at the front of the building, staring at the thick metal door propped open to reveal a reception area within.  April returns, jogging ahead of a collection of huge nasty looking undead males.  Marcy nods with satisfaction at the sight of them, turning she walks through the door, entering the reception area.

A high wooden desk fixed to the end of the wall, everything looks clean but the smell inside is strong.  The scent of humans, male humans.  Marcy walks to the far door, a thick metal cell like door firmly closed and locked.  The other standard interior doors within the area lead to offices, meeting rooms and cupboards.

‘Here,’ April says from behind the desk holding up a large bunch of keys, ‘there’s a note too.’

‘Read it,’ Marcy says.

‘It says…The cells have been opened, the cell blocks are not sealed, be warned; the inmates within the main block are loose, we waited for change over but no one came, we tried calling the governor and senior staff but the phones were down, Harry Holbrook went into the estate to visit the governors house but he never came back, we waited until Saturday but we have families too.  The senior officer on duty made the decision. The inmates know something is happening from the radio broadcasts they heard.’

A dull thud rings out from the other side of the metal cell door, a muffled voice calling out.  Marcy presses her finger to lips, indicating to the others to remain silent.  A needless act as they never speak unless required.  She moves closer to the door, pressing her ear against the cool metal.

‘I heard voices, I’m telling ya, someone is out there,’ a male voice speaks on the other side.  More thuds bang against the door, firm hammering that vibrates the door within the frame.

‘HEY, ANYONE THERE?’ The same voice calls out.  Marcy turns back to her horde, as one and in perfect synchronisation the men move to the side of the door, pressing themselves against the wall.  The girls stand just a few feet back, staring at her.  Marcy looks at the door, then at her girls and moves them back, creating a greater distance.

‘Hello?’ She calls out.

‘Shit, I bloody told you…Hey yeah we’re in here, who is that?’

‘Marcy, I work in the admin building, are you all still in there?’

‘Oh thank god. Yes! We’re all still in here, we been left here for days now, what’s going on? We’ve heard nothing.’

‘There was an outbreak of a disease, they’re getting it under control now but it’s taking time.’

‘Yeah we heard on the radio but that was like over a week ago, there’s been nothing since then.’

‘Everything went down, the masts, the satellites, it’s been awful,’ Marcy replies.

‘Where are the officers? Are they coming back?’

‘They lost loads from the disease, the ones left have been sent to the young offenders prisons, they’re using the army on the streets, soldiers everywhere.  They asked me to come and find out if you were still here, no one knew.’

‘Yes we’re still bloody here, the foods almost run out and our bedding is filthy.  I can’t believe we’ve been left like this.  There’s been fights and everything, this isn’t on, we cannot be treated like this, we’ve got rights you know.’

‘Why didn’t you break out?’ Marcy asks.

‘How? We’re well inside the block, we got no way of doing anything and we didn’t know what was going on, it could have been more dangerous out there…’

‘Okay, how many of you are there?’

‘You should know that if you work in the admin block.’

‘I do the finances for the officers expenditure, and I only started a month ago,’ Marcy replies quickly.

‘Look love, this is an outrageous way to treat human beings, some of us need medication…that ran out bloody ages ago, we’ve had no counselling sessions, no treatments…just left alone to rot, we’re going to start a civil action as soon as we can, you know that don’t you.’

‘Oh right, no I…well I guess you can do that.’

‘Course we can, we’re not having this! We got rights, there’s laws and rules that say about how we should be treated, dignity and respect and all that…heads are going to roll for this.’

‘How many prisoners are there?’

‘Prisoners! We’re not prisoners, we’re patients undergoing treatment…that is unacceptable terminology to use.’

‘But you are convicted inmates though aren’t you?’

‘Yes but we’re not called prisoners, we’re patients…we’ve got illnesses and psychological problems.’

‘The army asked me to find out how many were inside?’

‘Why aren’t the bloody army here doing it themselves?’

‘They’re busy, they’ve got loads to do and I think they’re stretched as it is.’

‘Stretched? You hear that? Stretched…that is disgusting, leaving us here while they sort everyone else out first.’

‘How many?’ Marcy asks again, keeping her voice light but with an increasing look of hostility on her face.

‘One hundred and twenty two.’

‘Is that all? I thought there were hundreds of you.’

‘Christ, don’t you know anything, this is going down on the list you know, sending us a bloody trainee to ask stupid question, should be an accredited officer you know, we’ve got rights.’

‘Why so few of you?’ Marcy presses.

‘Because my love,’ the man says in a distinctly patronising tone, ‘we are a high dependency unit that requires intensive therapy with a higher than normal staff to patient ratio.’

‘Why?’ Marcy asks.

‘Why? Why do you bloody think? This place is full of rapists and child molesters, there’s bloody murderers in here that would shag a dog if they could…that’s why.’

‘Oh I see, so you’re all serious offenders then?’

‘What is this? What the hell has that got to do with us getting food and clean sheets? This is a clear breach of our human rights you know, and you asking those sorts of questions is in clear breach of the rules, it infringes on our civil liberties and causes undue distress.’

Marcy grips the keys, sorting through them to match the right one to the lock, ‘hang on, I’ll open the door…there’s some food coming in a minute.’

‘You’re opening the door?’ The man asks in a shocked tone.

‘You said you needed food and sheets, there’s some coming, I’ve got some of the admin girls here to help get you sorted out…there’s no danger to us is there, after what you just said…’

‘We’re not bloody animals you know, get this door open and maybe you’ll avoid being listed on our civil action.’

‘I’m just looking for the right key,’ Marcy replies, the tone of the man sent her thirst for flesh soaring, a deep longing to tear him apart and end his existence.  Her horde instinctively picked up on her anger, their otherwise placid faces becoming fixed with aggression.

‘Just hurry up,’ the man snaps, ‘go and tell the others they’re opening the door for fresh food and bedding,’ the man’s voice muffles slightly as he turns to speak to someone else. ‘Okay, I’ll ask…what about meds? We need meds in here too.’

‘Meds? I don’t know anything about medication,’ Marcy replies, still sorting through the many keys.

‘Well I suggest you get someone who does, get an army doctor up here so we can speak to them, this isn’t right…I haven’t had my sleeping pills for over a week.’

‘There’s people dying of hunger out here, the disease has crippled everything…I don’t think sleeping pills will be at the top of their agenda.’

‘I don’t care,’ the man shouts, ‘I don’t care what the hell is going on out there, we’re patients undergoing treatment and we’ve got rights!’

‘I’ve got the right key,’ Marcy says, applying tension to the key and feeling the first bite of the lock retracting, ‘now listen you’re not to step over the threshold, there’s only me and a few girls here so we’re putting ourselves at risk here for you and the soldiers are all down in the town…’

The response comes slowly, ‘okay,’ a drawn out sound that speaks volumes of the sudden intent forming.

Marcy turns the key, disengaging the lock and pulling the door open.  She keeps her head low as though watching the swing of the door.  Glancing up she takes in the men all stood there watching her.  Jaws going slack at the sight of her cleavage hanging out from the low cut top, her tanned skin and tussled hair.  She draws the door open, revealing the admin girls stood looking down.

More men arrive to stand beyond the threshold, their animated faces becoming dazed at the sight of the women.  Dirty looking creatures with lank hair, pale skin and beady eyes.  Some of them look well groomed, others look downright dangerous with the essence of the sexual predator just dripping off them.

‘Hi,’ Marcy smiles quickly, dropping her head and making a meal of pulling the key from the lock, ‘now you promised not to cross the threshold…there’s only us here…all vulnerable and alone.’

‘Fuck that,’ the man at the front says, Marcy recognises his voice as the man speaking to her through the door.  He looks slimy, with a permanent sneer etched onto his stubbled face.  His eyes lingering with undisguised hunger on her figure.  He steps forward, a slow movement, eyes fixed on Marcy.

‘Hey now,’ Marcy steps back, ‘you said you wouldn’t cross the threshold.’

The men start pushing through the doorway, following the spokesperson as he steps to the edge of the open door, his eyes fixed on the gorgeous girls.

‘Yeah…look at you…opening the door to a load of sexual deviants and dressed like a dirty slut, you’re just asking for it, begging for it…’ his hand goes to his groin as he starts rubbing himself, clearly not bothered about doing it in front of so many people.  Marcy notices several of them are doing the same thing, touching themselves in full view of everyone else.

‘Oh,’ Marcy says, making her voice sound full of fear, she backs away, stepping into the group of girls.

‘All alone eh? No soldiers here you said…’ the man advances beyond the edge of the door, his breathing becoming hard and rapid with the hungry lustful look clear in his eyes.

‘Not quite alone,’ Marcy smiles, a brilliant grin full of white teeth, ‘we brought our brothers with us.’

‘Ha! Where are they then?’

‘Behind you,’ Marcy whispers, watching with delight as the inmates turn to see the huge monsters standing with their backs pressed against the wall behind the door.  Big men, dripping with aggression, wide shoulders, thick limbs, faces showing a myriad of busted noses, scars and deformed ears, rugby players, nightclub bouncers, builders, weight lifters and every one of them staring with wide red bloodshot eyes.

The colour drains from the man’s already pale face, his legs visibly shake as he goes to step back, his movement impeded by the line of inmates behind him.

‘Look at you, all dressed like that…you’re just asking for it,’ Marcy says softly, ‘begging for it…’ she pauses, feeling an intense pleasure at the fear pouring of them in buckets.  She nods for effect, her undead men step forward.  The inmates try to turn, barging into each other and screaming in panic.

A melee starts instantly as the ones at the back still try to push towards the open door, sensing freedom and catching glimpses of the beautiful women.  The ones at the front scrabbling to get back inside.

The undead pile in, moving quickly as they pluck the inmates out one by one.  Strong hands grabbing heads, mouths biting into the exposed flesh of their necks.  The undead take their time, biting slowly and savouring the taste of the flesh and enjoying the fear of the inmates.

Marcy takes the spokesperson, dragging him away.  He fights frantically, lashing out and squealing in fright.  She grips his face, leaning in and biting into his cheek.  He screams, flailing at her with his hands.  An undead male steps behind him, pinning his arms to his side, protecting the leader.  Marcy steps back, aware of the all-out slaughter taking place but content to stay with this one man for a couple of minutes.

‘I’m infected with a deadly disease, all of us are…that disease just entered your blood-stream, right now it’s infecting every cell in your body…it’s going to kill you slowly with untold agony…and then you’ll turn and come back and I will be your leader…and you will suffer again,’ she speaks softly to him, watching as the fear grows in his eyes.  Tears start spilling down his cheeks, his legs shaking and give out.  The undead male holds him upright, keeping him standing so Marcy can watch him.

‘Can you feel it? Does it hurt?’

‘Yes,’ he gasps, feeling a sudden pain in his stomach.  The feeling intensifies, spreading out to his whole body.

‘I want you to turn slowly…really slowly,’ Marcy says.  She doesn't know if she can have any control over the speed of the infection but right now she wishes she could.

The undead man drops him, letting him sprawl onto the floor.  His breathing becomes laboured and slow, his life slowly leaving him as his body shuts down.  Marcy watches, willing the agony to continue.  He dies within the same time as everyone else, a sense of mild disappointment passes through her.

She stands there waiting until he starts twitching, glancing up she notices the room is now mostly empty apart from the corpses on the floor starting to convulse.  Her undead have ran into the prison, playing the best game of hide and seek ever.

The spokesperson comes back, his twitches end as he sits up and opens his eyes, revealing the true look of the undead.  He cranes his head, staring up at Marcy.  She looks down at him, willing him to be able to speak, to have normal intelligence and awareness so she can kill him again. The hatred she felt for him still drives her action, her desire to make him suffer.  She stares down, teeth gritted as she wills him to be like he was, show that trait he had so she can enjoy it.  His red eyes look back at her with devotion, complete love.  She could do anything to him right now and he would take it without reacting.  That very thought repulses her, if she hurt him now she would the same as him, the same as he was.  Making an innocent suffer for her own sadistic pleasure.  Whatever he was is gone now, the turn has changed him and taken away all the bad.

She stands back, realising that the urge to make him suffer is a human urge, a desire bred from years of living in a society that nurtured hatred and vengeance.  Stepping forward she holds her hand out to him, helping him up onto his feet.

‘Welcome,’ she smiles, ‘what you were is gone now, you’re one of us.’ The other inmates start to rise from the floor, standing unsteady for a few seconds as they adjust to the new way of being.

Marcy wills them to head into the prison and use their knowledge to find the others.  They respond immediately, staggering through the cell door and into the block.  She leans against the desk, lost in thought.  The human psyche is driven by chemicals, these monsters had urges to hurt others and were considered to be so sick they were a risk to society so they were kept away.  But now they’re not a risk. If the infection can control those urges they felt, when the whole of medicine and science had failed to do so, then what else could it do?

Could they all be allowed to speak? Is there a future where all the undead hosts carried on life as normal, breeding and communicating, only taking what is needed to survive, no greed or jealousy, no will to control others.  Like a nest of ants all striving towards a common aim.

Marcy she knew she was different to Darren; she didn’t have his sick perversion, but more than that the difference between them proved there was scope to change quickly. The evolution just between them two was staggering, and the fact that she could make others communicate.  Was this her doing it, or the infection inside her? Both, it must be both.  The infection must understand that in order to continue to survive now that the element of surprise has gone then it must change and adapt.

That must be it, the infection is giving her a chance to use her own abilities to protect the species.  Even Marcy, a former hotel waitress, knows the power of the brain was far greater than most people used.  Some people could do highly complex calculations, others had perfect memory recall, remembering everything they had ever read, she remembers seeing a programme about Autistic children that could see a building once then draw it perfectly from memory.  Children that could compose perfect musical arrangements.  Every one of those people had the same grey matter contained in their skulls, it was just that some had different neural connections which gave them greater skills.

Marcy senses the possibility and it makes her heart quicken.  Like a fantasy that could never be achieved now being a realistic and tangible thing.

A thought strikes her, an incredible powerful thought that makes her reel, holding her hand out to grasp the desk.  Shaking her head she thinks it couldn’t be possible , it just couldn’t…could it?

‘Marcy, are you okay?’ April walks in from the main block, wiping a smear of blood from her chin and looking at her leader with concern.

‘Stay here and wait for the others, bring them out when they’re all taken,’ Marcy says, not looking at April but thinking frantically, her face staring down at the ground.

‘Okay,’ April replies as Marcy runs out the door.  She jogs down the road, the need to find out now burning away in her soul.  It couldn’t happen like that, it just wouldn’t be possible.  But Darren said he had tens of thousands of undead with him, the odds must mean some of them…

She speeds up, racing through the gates, turning towards the massed horde and Reginald stood there patiently.

‘Marcy? Whatever is wrong? Do you need more in there?’ Reginald asks at seeing the state of her.

‘No, Reginald, have you ever been sick?’

‘Pardon? Have I ever been sick?’

‘Yes, have you ever been really sick or suffered from a disease?’

‘Marcy, I think I have something of that nature within me right now…we all do,’ he says slowly.

‘No I mean…’ she forces herself to be calm, breathing deeply and fighting to control the rush of excitement. Her will, she must use her will.  But it doesn't work like that, she can get them to do things but not answer questions…would it work?

‘Listen, I want all the communicators over here with me now,’ Marcy calls out, she watches as the chosen ones file towards her, Reginald in the lead and watching with worry etched onto his face.

Test questions, she needs to be sure they will answer…ask test questions.

‘Er…did any of you live in a house?’ She asks.  Reginald stares at her perplexed, some of the hosts reply with one word, “yes”.

‘Use your hands, put your hand up if you lived in a flat?’ She watches hands lift, the faces all staring at her, ‘okay, put your hand up if you had a driving license,’ again she watches as some hands drop and others lift up. ‘Right…hold your hand up if you worked in a skilled job, something that required training and qualifications,’ she pauses, holding her breath at the more complicated question.  A few hands go up, the majority stay down.

‘You,’ she points at one woman with her hand up, ‘what did you do?’

‘Legal advisor for a pharmaceutical company,’ the woman answers in a flat tone.

This is it, she can ask the question.  She pauses again, suddenly realising what it will mean if they answer.

‘Have any of you,’ she asks slowly, ‘no…do any of you suffer from…er….an illness like…er…diabetes! Yes do any of you have diabetes?’ She watches as one hand lifts into the air. ‘You have diabetes?’ She asks.

‘Yes,’ the man replies.

‘Did you need medication for it? Tell me…’

‘I was insulin dependent, I had to inject every day and carried it with me all the time.’

‘Was?’ Marcy breathes out, ‘how did you cope when the outbreak started?’

‘I had insulin and I was careful,’ the man gives the answer instantly, his tone as dull and lifeless as Robbie’s was.

‘What about now?’

‘I don’t need it now.’

‘Why not?’

‘I am not diabetic now.’

The answer hangs in the air as Marcy looks to the only other being that could understand the implication of what was just said.  Reginald stands there, his mouth hanging open.

Fourteen

‘I call this meeting to order, this being the first council meeting of the community known collectively as Fort Spitbank, but referred to as simply the fort,’ Sergeant Hopewell stands at the head of the hastily arranged tables.  Looking round at the people chosen to make the first council up.  The likely ones are all present, Chris, Sarah, Ted, Kelly, the bloke who said he was a pharmacist and that annoying idiot that was going on about making a shrine, or a multi-faith place of worship.

‘Terri Trixey, who is the officer sat behind me, will be keeping a record of the meeting unless anyone opposes that?’ She looks up, staring round to see if anyone does oppose it.  Nobody does of course, they all just nod back at her, ‘It is important to keep structure and I am aware that not everyone here will know everyone else, so first of all we need to introduce ourselves.  My name is Debbie Hopewell, I am a sergeant with the police and I have vast experience in organisation and establishing working practises to suit the task at hand, Chris?’ She sits down, clearly expecting Chris to stand up and showing a look of irritation when he simply leans forward and rests his elbows on the table.

‘You all know who I am,’ he smiles, ‘so I won’t bore you,’ he looks to his left at Kelly.

‘My name is Kelly, I was chief engineer for many years…’ and so it goes on.  Everyone introducing themselves and giving a brief rundown of their working lives.

Of course I was invited to the council but I was the only one from my team and I insisted that Clarence come with me.  That’s caused another disagreement which Chris smoothed over with some soft words.

The pharmacist is thankfully very brief, just giving his name and saying what his job was, which is enough.  Unfortunately the preacher man isn’t so brief, going into great detail about all the studies he’s done of so many religions and the differing factors of faith, how he’s worked with drug users and helped with youth counselling services.  I feel myself starting to fidget, getting annoyed at the idiot for hogging the limelight and talking so much.  We need fuel for the machines, we need to get Meredith tested…why can’t these people see that?

‘Mate,’ the words come out of my mouth before I realise what I’m doing, ‘no offence but we need to move on.’ That earns me a sharp look from Sergeant Hopewell and a few others while Chris and Clarence smirk into their coffee mugs.  That shows how much I’ve changed, I would never have dreamt of saying something like that a couple of weeks ago.

‘Oh right, yes of course…I do apologise I do have a tendency to go on a bit, it’s just that I find all of these things so very interesting, the social formations we structure around the faiths and of course the way that having faith, in whatever god or deity you choose, does help enormously…’

‘You’re doing it again,’ I cut across him, earning an even sharper look from Sergeant Hopewell and a mutter from Clarence, ‘making friends already there boss.’

Clarence clears his throat, realising it’s his turn to speak, ‘Clarence, I worked with Chris in the Parachute Regiment for many years, I’m part of Mr Howie’s team now.’ He looks at me expectantly.

‘My name is Howie, I was named after my father Howard but it was too confusing to have two Howard’s so I became Howie.  I am twenty seven years old and I worked as a supermarket manager before the outbreak,’ I have no idea why I said all that, I guess the tiredness and fatigue is making me reckless, I feel like I just don’t give a shit what these people think of me.

‘Thank you,’ Sergeant Hopewell says, giving me a strange look, ‘so we all know who we are, the first thing we need to do is set an agenda of items for discussion.  We go back round the table and everyone has an opportunity to put forward what they wish to discuss…’

‘Where is Doctor Roberts?’ I ask, interrupting her.

‘He has too much work to do, he couldn’t make it,’ she replies without looking at me, ‘so if we start…’

‘Who represents the medical side of things then?’

‘If you were listening Howie, you would have heard James saying he was here on behalf of the medical team.’

‘Oh sorry James,’ I smile at the man who nervously smiles back, ‘I wasn’t listening.’ Glancing round I see Sarah staring daggers at me, Chris examining something on the table and Ted staring at the ceiling.

‘As I was saying…anyone who wants to put an item forward can do so…’

‘Are you a doctor then?’ I ask James sitting opposite me, ‘I really wasn’t listening earlier.’

‘Er, yes, well I’m a junior doctor actually but yes I am a doctor,’ he replies with another nervous glance, this time at Sergeant Hopewell.

‘Moving on,’ she says through gritted teeth, ‘I’ll go first…’

‘Why you?’ I ask immediately, my voice casual but my intent to be as annoying as possible is quite clear.

‘Because I am the chair,’ she replies, ‘so I chair the meeting and in order to give everyone an idea of the kinds of things we need to discuss I thought I would go first.’

‘Why are you the chair?’ I ask with a neutral expression, ‘did I miss a vote or something?’

Her face goes red with anger as she fights to control her temper.

‘Good point,’ Clarence rumbles, ‘why are you chairing? Why not Chris or Mr Howie?’

‘Or Ted for that matter, surely it’s up for everyone to decide who the chair is, I mean if we’re going to have a committee…’

‘A council,’ she corrects me.

‘A council,’ I concede with a nod, ‘then it must be done fairly.’ I smile round the room, seeing Sarah shaking her head at me and rolling her eyes, ‘I propose we vote on who the chair should be, who wishes to be considered for the position of the chair?’

‘It’s not the chair, it’s just chair,’ Clarence corrects me politely.

‘Oh I do apologise, who wishes to be considered for the position of chair?’ I stare round the table with a look of pure innocence, ‘Chris?’

‘I’m happy to do it,’ he replies rubbing his beard and shaking his head.

‘What about you Mr Howie?’ Clarence asks me with a light tone.

‘Me? I’d love the chance to be a chair.’

‘It’s not a chair, it’s just chair,’ he says.

‘I did it again, sorry.’

‘Are you going to do this the whole way through?’ Sergeant Hopewell asks with forced patience.

‘Do what?’ I ask.

‘Disrupt the proceedings?’ She replies quickly.

‘I’m not disrupting the proceedings, I merely questioned why you get to put the first idea forward and why you are the chair, sorry…why you are chair…this has to be a fair system, we are not some autocratic society here Debbie that does what you tell them to do.’ We lock eyes, I’ve just made myself an enemy, that much is clear.  The hatred pouring from her is palpable.

‘Fine, so who wants to be the chair?’ She asks.

‘Chair, not the chair,’ Clarence says.

She takes a deep breath and looks down for a few seconds, ‘who wants to be chair?’

‘I do,’ I reply.

‘You want to be chair?’ She asks.

‘Yes please.’

‘I second that,’ Clarence adds.

‘Okay, all those who want Howie to be the…to be chair please raise your hand.’ To my surprise, several of them lift their hands up, James being one, Sarah does and both Chris and Clarence, even Kelly raises her arm.

‘Is that over half? It looks like over half. Does that mean I can be the chair?’

‘Chair,’ Clarence says.

‘Yes, it would appear that is the case,’ Sergeant Hopewell smiles, ‘please carry on then,’ she nods to me and sits down.

‘Er…right, and what does a chair do? Other than for sitting on obviously.’

‘This is bloody farcical,’ she explodes, slamming her hands down on the table.

‘Please do not disrupt the proceedings,’ I say calmly, ‘now about this idea thing that was mentioned, who has ideas they want to discuss? Only serious ones will be considered…and definitely nothing about religion or places of worship.’

‘You can’t do that,’ the preacher man says.

‘Why not? I thought I was the chair?’

‘Chair,’ Clarence says.

‘Howie,’ Sarah says, ‘you have to allow everyone a chance to put their ideas forward.’

‘Do I? Okay then, sorry,’ I nod at the preacher man who smiles back at me, all trace of humour gone from his eyes.

‘Well, ladies first I guess…oh hang on,’ I correct myself, ‘that is both sexist and discriminatory and I apologise to the members of the council, we could go with the oldest first but that would be ageist…so er…anyone?’ I ask catching a wry smile on Kelly’s face.

‘Yes I would like to discuss the placing of a multi-faith area within the fort, I think this would be of great benefit to the community for a variety of different reasons…’

‘I’ll stop you there,’ I cut him off before he has a chance to get going, ‘this is the bit where you put your suggestion for discussion, not the actual discussion.’

‘Oh yes of course, sorry chair,’ he glances at Sergeant Hopewell, flusters then corrects himself, looking at me, ‘I mean chair,’ he nods.

‘Anyway that idea is dismissed,’ I say, ‘next?’

‘You can’t do that!’ The preacher says shocked.

‘Can and I just did, next?’

‘I would like to discuss keeping the gates locked with armed guards on both sides, also placing the heavy machine gun on the top of the wall…’ Clarence says.

‘Got it, two items there for discussion, great ideas too I might add, anyone else?’

‘I would like to discuss getting an alarm system set up,’ Kelly says, clearly getting into the swing of things.

‘Oh another great idea, that’s three, anyone else?’

‘We need fuel for the generators, we can’t do any tests on Meredith until we get some,’ James says.

‘I like these ideas, that makes four, anything else?’

‘But hang on,’ the preacher leans forward, ‘you can’t just choose what items to discuss.’

‘Okay, quick vote, all those who do not want to discuss religious stuff please raise your arm,’ the same people all vote again, clearly over half the room, ‘vote completed, and it goes against you, sorry but we are not discussing it.’

‘But…’ he stammers.

‘Democracy,’ I cut him off again, ‘can’t argue with it I’m afraid, the people have spoken.’

‘Howie this is outrageous,’ Sergeant Hopewell shouts.

‘Why?’ Kelly leans forward, her voice clear and steady, ‘why is it outrageous? This was your idea to have a council, Mr Howie asked the members to vote and they did, everything is above board and fair.’

‘But he’s doing it on bloody purpose.’

‘Doing what Debbie? What is he doing?’ Kelly asks.

‘Being immature and infantile, blundering on and using his popularity to make this awkward.’

‘It has been done fairly, as you decreed it should be done,’ James says with a very cultured voice that I didn’t pick up on earlier.

‘But he’s a bloody supermarket manager,’ she shouts, ‘he’s running rings round you, manipulating everyone.’

‘Last night,’ my voice booms across the table, ‘I stabbed one of my own team through the fucking neck and killed him, I shot a baby as it bit into its mothers neck, then I shot the mother…those things had to be done and this,’ I cast my arm round the table, ‘is a stupid waste of time, this is something that is done in a few months when we’re on our feet.  It hasn’t even been two weeks yet and we’re sat round a fucking table taking fucking votes.  This is the ridiculous thing and if you,’ I point directly at Sergeant Hopewell, ‘cannot keep up then I suggest you fuck off and let those that can get on with it. We have a dog out there that is immune to the virus, we have machines that can test that dog and find out why it’s different to everything else but instead of getting fuel we’re sat here talking about fucking religion. There are sick people out there that need food and clothing, the supplies we have will only last a little while, we need people going out to scavenge and find food, we need ammunition and weapons, better security, more lights and above all else…we need FUEL.’ I’m on my feet, glaring at the faces.  The preacher drops his eyes, uncomfortably fidgeting in his seat.  Sarah stares at me with a strange look.

Sitting back down I look down the table to Sergeant Hopewell sat quietly, it looks like the fight has gone out of her, she goes to say something then stops, her mouth open but without any words coming out.

‘Terri, start a list of actions please, James,’ I look to the doctor sat opposite me, ‘other than fuel is there anything you’re desperate for?’

‘Anti-biotics, penicillin, blood and anaesthetic,’ he replies quickly.

‘Terri add it to the list please, Kelly what do you need to get an alarm rigged up?’

Roger Hastings, the old fort curator leans forward, clearing his throat and speaking for the first time, ‘there was an old loud speaker system here, the wiring is old but it might be salvageable.’

‘Thanks, you show Kelly where it is and Kelly will let the police office know if we need anything else, but be quick as the shops are getting quickly emptied by other survivors.’

‘I’ll need to assess it first but we’ll get something rigged up, even if it’s a line of people stood with megaphones,’ Kelly adds.

‘Ted, the guards…’

‘I’m on it,’ he replies quickly, ‘that won’t happen again, guards will be on both sides of the gates.’

‘And they’ll be kept locked,’ Chris says.

‘Yes Chris, they should have been last night but I think a combination of the heat, exhaustion, then Howie getting back with the dog…things just slipped, inexcusable but it happened.’

‘We’re not blaming you Ted,’ Chris says quickly, ‘we’re all at fault, have you got enough guards?’

‘In truth? No, we don’t.  We need more but we’re already using everyone that’s had experience of weapons.’

‘We’ll get more trained,’ Chris replies, ‘Terri, put that on the list as a priority action, we need volunteers for weapon training and guard duties, next?’

‘The second GPMG we brought back from the navy ship, Dave suggested we get it rigged up on the wall facing out onto the flatlands,’ I say.

‘Should be doable,’ Chris nods, looking at Kelly.

‘I’ve no experience of mounting weapons,’ she says, ‘but we can have a look, shouldn’t be too difficult.’

‘It’s not,’ Clarence cuts in, ‘you must have seen them on the news and movies, blokes get them stuck on the back of pick-up trucks and lorries.’

‘Yes I know what you mean, yeah we should be able to do something.’

‘Great,’ I smile at the engineer.

‘Wouldn’t it be better to put it on the ground outside the main gates behind a wall of sandbags, it’ll cover the immediate ground area then and give a visible deterrent,’ Ted asks.

Chris rubs his beard, nodding while thinking, ‘good point Ted, yeah we could do that I suppose.’

‘A visible deterrent is also a visible target,’ Clarence says, ‘that would mean keeping guards outside the gates all night, all it would take is someone to nod off and get taken and we’ve lost our best weapon.’

‘Good thinking,’ Ted nods, ‘I take it back, best to leave it inside the perimeter then.’

‘Agreed?’ I ask, looking at the three men with the greatest experience, they nod back. ‘Terri…’

‘Got it,’ she calls out.

‘Next?’

‘Sanitation,’ James looks at me, ‘I took a walk round yesterday and saw people eating food with their hands.  That would be acceptable in their own homes where the general spread of bacteria was contained and limited, but here with this heat with so many people it could lead to disaster.’

‘What do you propose?’ I ask.

‘The toilets in the visitor centre are barely coping too, they keep getting blocked up and we’re using so much water,’ Terri jumps in, giving a quick nervous glance to Sergeant Hopewell who is following the conversation with great interest and a foul look on her face.

‘Knives and forks,’ James shrugs, ‘and clean hands, we can use anti-bacterial gels and cleaners but we need to stress the importance of basic hygiene, and keeping the eating utensils clean too.’

‘What are we doing now? With the eating arrangements.’

Everyone looks at Sergeant Hopewell who shrugs and looks away, ‘er…the stores are giving out the rations of food and people are taking it back to central cooking areas within the living areas and serving from there.’ Terri explains after another nervous look at her sergeant.

‘Is there anything else we can do? How about we serve everyone from one point, they take it in turns, section by section or something like that.’

‘We could, but that would take some doing,’ Sarah cuts in, ‘there’s already a lot of people here.’

‘Okay, Sarah and Terri, I want you both to look into it and liaise with Doctor James to establish a better practise, Kelly can you get someone to look at the toilets?’

‘Already done, we keep on looking at them, people have got to stop shoving so much toilet paper down them.’

‘Okay, get signs up. Toilet paper goes into bins which can be taken and burnt, not down the toilets.  Sarah and Terri, are you happy with looking at the food arrangements, I didn’t want you to think I was asking you seeing as your both girls,’ I say with a smile.

Sarah smiles back, shaking her head at me, ‘no it’s fine,’ she replies, ‘we’ll sort something out.’

‘Speaking of burning,’ Kelly says, ‘the bodies still haven’t been done yet.’

‘Fuel,’ Chris replies, ‘all comes down to fuel…that is the top priority.’

Sighing I rub my face, turning to Clarence, ‘we’ll have to go back out.’

‘Okay boss,’ he nods.

‘You say it like it’s a bad thing, something wrong?’ Sarah asks.

‘Nah nothing,’ I shake my head, ‘we’ve been pushing the lads non-stop and I promised them some downtime but this comes first…what we doing with the dog in the meantime?’

‘What about her?’ Ted asks.

‘Well she’s with us inside the fort, but if we’re going out…’

‘We cannot risk anything happening to that dog, Doctor Roberts is adamant about that,’ Doctor James says, ‘the dog must stay here.’

‘Then it must stay with Chris, by his side,’ Clarence replies, ‘no offence but…’

‘You don’t need to say anything else,’ Ted holds his hand up, ‘everyone knows to protect that dog above everything.’

‘Right, good…anything else? Only it seems to me that’s enough for now.’

‘No, nothing from me,’ Doctor James says.  Kelly shakes her head, a quick scan round the room shows everyone else nodding in agreement.

Standing up I address the room again, ‘listen, all the little things that need doing will get done, we’ll get round to them but things have be done in priority.  There is one more thing that needs to be decided…other than now when we can meet and make these decision, I think Chris should continue with the day to day running of the fort and be in overall command to make quick decisions, does anyone oppose that?’

‘Why Chris?’ Sergeant Hopewell snaps, her eyes filled with malice.

‘Because he’s being doing it already pretty much, makes sense to me,’ I reply.

‘Debbie and I have both been doing it,’ Chris says, ‘that would make the most sense…if we both keep doing it.’ He offers her the olive branch, his tone neutral but clearly wanting her to agree.

‘Go to hell,’ she looks away.  Olive branch rejected, snapped, burnt and thrown away. An awkward silence descends, no one quite knowing what to say or do.

‘Fair enough,’ Chris keep his tone soft.

‘We’ll get going for the fuel…any suggestions where we try?’

‘Dockyards,’ Ted suggests with a pained look at Sergeant Hopewell, ‘always loads of diesel for the ships.’

‘Okay, dockyards it is.’

Outside Clarence and I walk slowly back to our rooms, chatting quietly when Terri runs up calling my name, I turn round to see her looking pensive.

‘What’s up?’

‘Listen, Debbie has taken it really hard losing Steven and Tom, she blames herself for letting them go with you…’

‘Seems like she blames us not herself,’ I reply.

‘Yeah well maybe but…just give her a bit of time.’

‘Time? There isn’t time Terri, if she’s struggling she can withdraw and be quiet somewhere, do mundane stuff or whatever, no one will think any worse for it but saying the things she said and getting everyone whipped up is dangerous.’

‘I know, I was angry at you too, we all were but, I…I don’t know,’ she trails off with a look of deep sadness in her eyes.

‘It looks like she’s losing it to me.’

She flashes a look of anger at me, ‘she’s not losing it,’ she snaps.

‘What was that then? Perfectly rational behaviour?’

‘Howie this has been hard on all of us, you’re not the only one having a hard time you know.’

‘Really? Well fuck me, I didn’t notice,’ my tone is harsher than I intended, she blanches at me, her face a mixture of hurt then anger.  She doesn't reply, just shakes her head and walks off.

‘Come on,’ I snap at Clarence, he gives me a pointed look, shrugs and starts walking.

‘Bit harsh boss,’ he mutters, ‘I think she was only trying to sort things out.’

‘Probably but I’ve had it with pussy footing around them.  These are hard times and they’ve got to face up to it.’

‘True enough.’

‘Dave, get everyone ready, we’re moving out as soon as possible,’ I call out as we enter our rooms.

‘Fresh coffee on the table,’ Blowers says, nodding at the steaming mugs.

‘Cheers mate.’

‘How did it go?’ Lani asks, walking into the main room as she ties her hair back into a pony tail.

‘Okay I guess.’

‘The boss snapped and shouted at everyone, but it looked like most of ‘em were on our side anyway so we got away with it,’ Clarence explains.

‘Bloody hell, wish I could have seen that,’ Cookey says,

‘And he told Sergeant Hopewell to fuck off again.’

‘Yeah maybe that was a bit strong,’ I groan.

‘No, it was needed. It got the right things done, did you see the way Ted was joining in the conversation after you went off on one?’

‘Most of them were actually,’ I reply.

‘So what’s the plan? We going for fuel?’ Cookey asks.

‘Yep, situation is desperate, they can’t run the machines or burn the bodies without it.’

‘What about the dog?’ Blowers asks.

‘She stays here,’ I reply, ‘but she’ll be with Chris,’ I add at the worried looks they exchange.

We drink the coffee and make ready for another trip out, Tom’s absence feels profound.  He was only with us for a few days but the sight of his kit in the corner, alone and away from everything else is chilling, a stark reminder of what we have to do.

Looking at Cookey, Blowers, Nick and even Lani I question if this is too much for them, if I’m asking too much.  Debbie’s words keep spinning through my mind, a supermarket manager rampaging round the country with a bunch of delinquent kids. They didn’t ask for any of this.  Fate brought us together but something else keeps us together.

Anyone of them could stand down and say they’ve had enough.  Especially the three lads, they’ve been non-stop since this began, not a day has gone by without them putting themselves at risk for something I want them to do. The closeness between them is striking.  I know they didn’t know each other before they arrived at Salisbury, but to look at the way they interact you’d think they were lifelong mates.  Lani gels with them brilliantly, a wise head on young shoulders but with a cracking sense of humour, bouncing of them with ease.

Staring at Tom’s kit bag I feel a deep sense of wanting to give up, to stay here and not do it anymore.  Let them find someone else to be put at risk.

With the skills we’ve learnt we could just go, get in the Saxon and drive off, find somewhere safe away from everyone else and have some peace. But then what kind of life would that be? How long before we got bored and fed up with each other’s company? When the banter grows stale and the grief and shock sets in from everything we’ve faced.  I should be on the floor crying about Tom, weeping for the ones we’ve lost, having nightmares about Tucker and shooting Steven and holding McKinney in my arms as he died, watching Dave shed a tear over Jamie.

Even last night, fighting alongside Paco Maguire and watching a hero die in battle, fighting to protect a dog.  Even that should have tipped me over the edge but I don’t feel the grief.  Instead there’s an icy fist clenched inside my stomach, something that wants me to destroy every undead I can find.  Rip them apart and reap vengeance for every misery they’ve caused.

‘You okay Mr Howie?’ Dave’s voice penetrates my dark thoughts. I turn to face him, just the two of us alone in the room, everyone else outside getting ready to go.

‘Just thinking about Tom.’

‘Okay.’

‘Dave,’ I ask as he goes to turn away, ‘I don’t feel…I…’ he stares back at me, his face devoid of expression, ‘I…just don’t feel…nothing, I don’t feel anything.’

He shrugs, his eyes fixed on mine, ‘you will, just not the time for it now, you’ve got work to do Mr Howie.’ And with that he walks off.  Leaving me alone and wondering why he has to be so bloody strange.

Fifteen

‘Will you look at that,’ Randall exclaims.  The inmates gather to the sides and behind him, staring at the open gates and the service road beyond. Randall turns to look at the building just a few metres away.  Just round that corner they broke out and died, not knowing the open gates were right here.

‘Dumb ass motherfuckers,’ Randall sighs, shaking his head.  Still, it meant more for him.  Five hundred men running about would soon cause problems, but fifty was a far more manageable number.  Enough to cause carnage and take what they needed, but not so many that couldn’t be controlled.

Some of the inmates stand with eyes closed, reeling at what could have been.  Knowing their mates died just yards away from freedom.  The violence they brought on themselves doesn't factor into the thinking of the many, just a few realise the irony of it.

Randall strides forward, a huge grin spreading across his face as he crosses the threshold of the gate.  Two weeks ago he would never have thought this possible.  With no chance of appeal, the murder he committed being witnessed by many other power-lifters, judges and officials, he knew he would see his days out in prison.  Early parole for good behaviour just wasn’t possible for someone like Randall.  His character and personality meant he would always be seeking confrontation.  But this; walking out of a prison on a beautiful summer day with an army of tough mother-fucking inmates at his back was an indescribable feeling.

‘Which one of you crazy ass bitches knows the way to the closest town? I need me some pussy, some mother-fucking big ass, swollen titted pussy,’ he looks at the grinning men, noticing how exhausted they all look.

‘That way,’ one man steps forward pointing down the access road, ‘that goes t’ main road which leads t’ town,’ he adds in a strong northern accent.

‘What the fuck did he say?’

‘He said that road leads into the town,’ another inmate translates.

‘How you know that?’ Randall demands.

‘I kept having t’ go court, local like and that’s t’ way we went.’

Randall glares at the man, trying to comprehend the accent.

‘He said they kept taking him back to court and that’s the way they went,’ the same inmate translates again.

‘Bitches, you hear that? This man knows the way to the mother-fucking town, he is my new best friend, even if I can’t understand a mother-fucking word he says,’ Randall laughs, draping a muscular arm over the man’s shoulders and pulling him in tight, ‘lead the way friend, lead the way.’

‘Okay,’ the man grins, embarrassed at the attention.  They start walking down the road, a narrow double carriageway running between the two high walls of the prisons.

‘You think them nonces have got out yet Randall?’ One of the inmates calls out.

‘Nonces? You keep on saying that word and I don’t get it, you mean the mother-fucking rapists and such like, I hope for their sake they still inside jerking each other off cos I know what I’m gonna do if we meet them.’ His response gets more laughs, despite the common sexual practises within the prison, the utter hatred that mainstream inmates felt towards sex offenders was legendary, especially the hardened inmates serving life sentences who had nothing to lose and everything to gain from the prestige of killing a molester.

‘Hell, if I wasn’t so busting to get me some pussy I might go in there and fuck ‘em up,’ he adds to more laughing.

They laugh and joke while rubbing sore knuckles and limping on feet still painful from stomping on faces and joints.  All of them staring ahead at the end of the walls to where the ground opens out and the main road in the distance.  The walls either side still give the effect of being enclosed, of being contained. They talk of the women they’ll fuck, the booze they’ll drink, the drugs they’ll take and the food they’ll eat.  The reality of the apocalypse yet to hit them.

Reaching the end of walls they walk out into the open, headed by Randall holding his arms wide as a gesture of freedom.

‘Get back quick,’ someone mutters. The inmates come to a sudden stop, crouching down.

‘Get back, go back to the wall,’ Randall urges the men, pushing the ones closest to him.  The men stagger back behind the line of the wall, pressing against it and staying quiet.

‘Who the fuck are they?’ Someone asks.

‘How the mother-fucking shit should I know,’ Randall snaps, ‘shut the fuck up and let me look,’ he drops down and crabs forward, inching out from the wall and staring across the ground.  The wide grass area , dotted with trees and shrubs obscures his view but the size of the crowd is still clear.  Thousands of people stood in front of the main gates of the sex offenders prison eerily all still and silent.  No movement apart from two stood just in front of them a man and woman.

Cursing under his breath at being so close he watches them intently, wondering what the hell such a large number of people are doing outside a prison when society was meant to have fallen.

‘What they doing?’ an inmate whispers hoarsely.

‘Just mother-fucking stood there,’ Randall whispers back, ‘fucking freaky motherfuckers,’ he adds more to himself.

He watches as a small group break away from the crowd and stand closer to the man and woman.  The distance being far, Randall can’t see the detail but just from the body language he can tell they’re talking, discussing something, all of them looking at the woman.  He continues to stare, puzzled as some of them start raising and dropping their arms.

‘What they doing now?’ the inmate asks.

‘Man shut the fuck up and let me watch,’ Randall snaps.  The inmate starts crabbing forward, dropping down at Randall’s side to watch next to him, ‘just what the fuck are you doing?’

‘Watching with you,’ the inmate replies.

‘Did I say you could watch with me? No I did not say you could watch with me, you are taking a mother-fucking liberty.’

‘Sorry Randy, you want me to go back?’

‘If I wanted you to go back I would mother-fucking say to go back, but I distinctly fucking remember not telling you to go back.’

‘Erm…what you want me to do then?’ the inmate asks, confused.

‘Dumb motherfucker, have I got to think for you? Stay the fuck here.’

‘I’m Colin.’

‘Why the fuck are you telling me your name? Are we on a date? Are we holding hands and eating mother-fucking popcorn?’

‘Sorry Randy.’

‘Just shut the fuck up.’

‘Okay.’

‘I said shut the fuck up.’

‘Okay.’

‘Say okay one more time and see what happens, go on motherfucker, say it…say okay again…’ Colin stares at the wild bulging eyes locked on his face, feeling the word forming in his mouth and fighting with every ounce of his being not to say the word. ‘Your lips are moving…I will beat you to death right here you motherfucker.’

Colin nods, clamping his lips shut and willing himself not to speak.  Looking away he feels Randall’s insane gaze boring into him, shifting uncomfortably he spots the crowd starting to move towards them.  He looks back at Randall, desperate to tell him but too fearful of the consequences.  He makes eyes, widening his lids and pointing to the left, back at Randall then rotating his eyes again.

‘What the fuck is wrong with your eyes? Why you doing that? Quit doing that.’ Colin grimaces, still too afraid to speak.  Nodding his head he starts motioning across the grass, the movements increasing with range each time.

‘Crazy motherfucker is having a fit,’ Randall mutters with a look of disgust.  He glances across the ground, noticing the crowd walking towards them, the male and female clearly in the lead.  ‘Shit, they’re moving…why didn’t you say something fuck-ass? Come on, move.’ They scurry back to the wall, keeping low until they reach the edge.  Randall takes one last look, noticing the still crowd not making any noise, all of them walking in the same manner, a steady shuffling gait with stiff legs.

‘What the fuck,’ he mutters.  He pushes Colin back from trying to edge forward again, giving him a glare in the process.  Turning back he picks up on something not being right, the dynamics of the crowd just isn’t right.  Something about them…too quiet…too still, all heads facing forward.

‘Get moving,’ he urges the inmates after moving back behind the safety of the wall.  They start running back up the access road.

‘Not there you dumb fucks, go up the road,’ Randall calls out, his voice muted but still conveying a level of aggression.  The inmates veer away from the gate they were heading towards, Randall shaking at his head that they’d go back to the same place for somewhere to hide.

The days of fighting, getting very little food, being up all night working on the wall and then fighting like crazy have left them exhausted.  Within a minute they’re struggling for breath and jogging along with heavy legs and sweating faces.

Glancing back they keep going, aiming for the curvature of the road as it turns at the end of the wall.  Randall drops back, physically shoving and threatening the stragglers, not caring if they get hurt.

They get round the corner, moving a few metres down before stopping to rest their backs against the wall, coughing and spluttering, bent over and breathing hard.  Randall creeps back to the corner, staying low and peering down the road, cursing as he sees the crowd are already round and walking into the road.  He watches closely for any sign that they saw them.  None of them break away or start running, instead they keep the same steady movement with the male and female at the front.  Without the trees and shrubs, and being on an open road contained between two high walls means the view is sharper and unobstructed.  The man and woman are talking, nodding their heads as they speak.  None of the others are joining in, just walking at exactly the same pace and looking forward.

The sight unnerves him, the sheer volume of people walking so quietly without any motion other than the steps they take.

‘What they doing?’ Colin whispers in his ear causing the big American to flinch at the warm breath on his skin.

‘Take your fucking mouth away from my ear.’

‘Sorry Randy…what they doing?’

‘Walking towards the gate.’

‘Walking towards the gate?’

‘Yeah that’s what I said…walking towards the mother-fucking gate.’

‘Okay…what they doing now Randy?’

‘They still walking towards the gate, man you are annoying, did anyone ever tell you that?’

‘Huh,’ Colin chuckles, ‘you’re funny.’

Randall turns his head slowly, not quite believing anyone could be this dumb.  Colin stares back, grinning stupidly.  His face bruised and a cut above his right eye.  He glances down, looking at his large hands and the bruises on his knuckles.

‘What they doing now Randy?’ He asks again, still grinning like it’s a game.  Randall feels his neck tensing, a deep longing to hit the man grows in his stomach.  Gritting his teeth he turns back to the road, watching as the crowd get closer to the gate.

‘Still walking,’ Randall whispers.

‘They’re going slow then aren’t they Randy, you think they’ll see the bodies?’

‘You mean the two hundred dead bodies we left next to the building with the big fucking hole in the wall?’

‘Yeah them.’

‘Yes  they’ll see the bodies you dumb-ass fucking retard, man how the hell did you survive every day? Did someone get you dressed in the mornings?’

‘Huh don’t be silly Randy, I can dress myself,’ he nudges the big American jovially.

‘Touch me again and I’ll kill you.’

‘Okay, sorry Randy.’

‘Some are going in the gate, the rest are waiting on the road…who the fuck are these people? Where the fuck they come from?’

‘You want me to go and ask them Randy?’

‘Yeah great fucking idea.’

‘Okay.’

‘Get your dumb-ass back here, you crazy motherfucker.’

‘Sorry Randy I thought you said…’

‘Shut the fuck up.’

‘Okay.’

‘They’re just standing there doing jack fuck all, ain't no talking…ain't none of them moving either…this is fucked up, holy shit they’re all looking this way…motherfucker that is the creepiest thing I ever saw,’ he jerks back behind the wall, turning to face Colin, ‘they all just turned and looked up the road, together…all of them at the same time.’

‘What does that mean Randy?’

‘How the fuck would I know that? Quit asking dumb questions.’

‘What they doing now?’ Colin grins.

‘And quit grinning…fuck they’re all turned this way now, just fucking standing there…’

‘Can I see?’

‘No, and get your fucking hand of my shoulder, I told you I’d kill you if you touch me again.’

‘Sorry Randy, I forgot.’

‘Some are coming this way…one of them just run inside the gate.’

‘We better go,’ another inmate says from a few feet away.

‘They going slow, we got time,’ Randall says, his eyes fixed on the small group shuffling away from the main crowd and heading their way, ‘the one just ran back the gate…looks like she saying something to the group coming our way, they’re going back…holy fuck!’

‘What? What is it?’ Colin asks excitedly, desperate to peer round the wall and look.

‘They got chicks coming our way…hot ass chicks.’

‘Fuck off!’ the inmate from earlier says disbelieving.

‘Man I am not joking…There are several hot ass bitches heading our way.’

‘You’re having a laugh mate.’

‘Look for yourself, just stay low.’

‘Can I see Randy?’ Colin pleads.

‘No, sit your dumb-ass down and let the man get through, stay low and look, tell me my mother-fucking eyes ain't broken.’ The man drops down, inching forward until his head reaches the end of the wall, he peers down the road, shaking his head in wonder.

‘He ain’t joking lads, one, two, three,’ he counts silently, eyes flicking from woman to woman, ‘eight women coming this way, look at them legs, fucking hell they go all the way up.’

‘I fucking told you,’ Randall whispers.

‘What’s going on? Why they coming this way?’ The man asks, unable to drag his eyes from the women.

‘Hell I don’t know, but we’re leaving right fucking now.’

‘Leaving? You’re having a laugh aren’t you? Have you seen them women?’

‘Man this ain't right, we’re getting the fuck out of here.’

‘Randy you’re on your own mate, I’m staying right here.’

‘I said we’re going motherfucker,’ Randall snarls.

‘Who put you in charge? Get fucked, I’m staying right here.’

‘Man I will beat you the fuck to death…’

‘Yeah will ya now? And I’ll shout my fucking head off and get all them people running this way…fuck off if you want but I’m staying here.’

‘This ain't right. This ain't mother-fucking right, something…fuck this is fucked up, I’m going…who coming with me?’

The inmates stare at each other, several having whispered conversation.  Colin steps close to Randall, showing his loyalty.  Some others walk towards him, nodding and agreeing to come with him.

‘Yeah fuck off,’ the man on the ground chuckles quietly, ‘leave more for the rest of us…but I reckon if you’re going you do it now, cos they’re getting closer.’

‘You dumb-asses, fucking crazy dumb-asses,’ Randall growls.

‘Yeah you dumb –arses,’ Colin says.  Fifteen men join Randall as he marches off, building up to a light jog as he moves away from the corner.  The rest of them stay behind the wall, licking their lips as the man on the ground whispers about the girls long legs and tits bouncing about.  The fifteen sense Randall's concern, the hardest man in the prison being spooked is enough for them to follow his lead.  They run away moving down the road alongside the wall.  A high fence on the other side keeps them funnelled.  Randall leads them to the end of the fence, hastening them over a gate and into the undergrowth. They filter into the bushes and trees, moving stealthily back along the fence line to watch the remaining men hiding behind the wall.

The inmate left at the wall on his belly, greedily watches the girls walking towards him. Long years cooped up with just the male form and the lust for sex is stirring his loins. He goes quiet, ceasing the narration as his mouth dries up at the sight of the beautiful women.  Long legs, full figures, perfect arses and breasts straining against flimsy tops.  Long hair cascading down elegant necks and slim shoulders, tanned skin, alabaster tones and all them looking even more alluring with sunglasses on.

Must be models.  You’d never see women like this normally, even the average Saturday night in the town centre wouldn’t see such a group of stunning women all together.  The inmate fixes his gaze on the woman in the centre and a step or two ahead of the others.  Long curly blond hair that weaves and bobs as she walks, fine legs dressed in tight jeans and a vest top.  He finally looks past the girls, spotting the crowd disappearing from view into the prison gates.  Shaking his head at the good fortune, not considering why the rest would be going into the prison but locking his eyes back on the blond at the front.

Urgent whispers call out from behind him, inmates demanding to know what he can see.  He doesn't reply, his tongue glued to the roof of his dry mouth.  Swallowing nervously he mutters something unintelligible. The men, impatient for an update creep up behind him, stepping out to take a peek and standing still at the sight walking towards them.  One by one they move out, all of them struck dumb.  Hands quickly smooth hair down, wipe blood away and try to fix their filthy clothes straight.

‘Dumb motherfuckers,’ Randall mutters to himself from the safety of the undergrowth, lying low and staring through the chain link fence at the inmates as they put themselves on full view.  Even now he realises something isn’t right.  The girls didn’t flinch at the sight of the men stepping out from the side of the wall. A bunch of desperate men, covered in cuts and bruises, dressed in filthy prison clothes and they didn’t flinch, didn’t look at each other, didn’t break stride.  Nothing.

April watches with interest as the men step out from behind the wall.  Their foul stench, of shit, piss, sweat and blood, had indicated the route they took and now here they were.  Big hardened men all stepping out to stare at her and the undead women.

‘Hi there,’ she smiles, showing white even teeth.  The women all smile, all of them showing what appeared to be genuine pleasure at finding the men there.  This was a perfectly normal thing to happen, a good thing, a nice thing which gave them pleasure.

‘Hi,’ the inmate, who had been lying on his belly watching them, replies, his voice low and hoarse.

April smiles at them, looking from man to man as she silently counts.  Thirty men and eight women.  It will please Marcy greatly if she can turn these men without losses.  They look tough, fresh cuts and bruises from fighting.  A straight forward attack will incur losses, she must use their desire and lust against them.

‘What’s going on? I mean…what’s happening?’ The inmate asks, ‘we heard something bad had happened.’

‘It has,’ April says sadly, ‘a disease has wiped out millions of people.’ She walks forward, smiling at the man, the expression on her face conflicting with the words she speaks, ‘millions have perished, societies have fallen, everyone is suffering…there’s not enough food to go round and dangerous people are forming tribes to take what they can.’ She weaves between the men, smiling as they take in her form, eyeing her legs and arse. ‘We need protection,’ she continues, ‘those people down there are scared and afraid, we decided to come to the prisons and find some tough men to protect us.’ She turns round, watching as the women copy her actions, all of them moving between the men, smiling at them coyly.

‘Protection?’ The man laughs at the thought of Randall running off.

‘Yes,’ April continues, her voice still flat but going unnoticed, ‘and in exchange you can have what you want.’

‘What we want?’ The inmate repeats.

‘Yes,’ she smiles at him, ‘what you want…what you need…what you’ve missed…’ her voice trails off.  The man breathes deeply, his eyes misting over.

‘Who…who is attacking you?’ He asks slowly.

‘Local men, gangs but nothing like you, not as big and tough as you.’

‘You’ve got nice tits,’ an inmate sighs at the chest of a woman straining against her top, she smiles at him, pushing her chest out as his mouth drops open.

‘So they sent you to ask us?’ The first inmate asks.

‘No,’ April smiles, ‘we volunteered.’

‘Volunteered?’ He asks swallowing noisily.

‘Yes, there’s plenty more women in our group but we said we’d come and ask you, maybe see if you needed convincing.’

‘You must be desperate then.’

‘Very…very desperate,’ she steps in close to him, her face inches from his, he stares at his own reflection in the sunglasses.

‘I have an eye infection,’ April says, ‘they’re very sore…but we can’t get the medication as one of the gangs took it all…’ she slides her glasses off, showing the man her red bloodshot eyes.  He flinches from the sight, taking a quick intake of breath.

‘Christ love,’ he says.

‘I know…I need the medicines but no one will get it for me…will you get it for me?’

‘Fucking right we will,’ he replies firmly.

‘I can pay you in advance if you like.’

‘Pay?’

‘Yes, we can show our appreciation for your help…show how grateful we are…you must all be very,’ she pauses for effect, ‘frustrated after being in prison for so long.’ She leans forward, gently pressing her lips against his.  The surreal shock roots him to the spot.  Surviving the carnage of the fight, breaking free and now this…the kiss sends shockwaves through his body, every other inmate staring with surprise at the gorgeous woman kissing the inmate on the lips.

They watched with open mouths as her hand drops to the front of his trousers, kneading away while she presses her lips harder against his.  Some of the quicker thinking men look at the other girls.  They step closer to the men, leaning in to press their lips against the inmates.

The sexual tension ramps up as greedy hands start fumbling at the girls breasts. The thirty men all standing round the girls, groping and squeezing as the girls move their mouths from man to man.  Kissing hard, pushing saliva into their mouths.  The groping meant nothing to them, there was no feeling of disgust or repulsion.  The foul taste and smell of the inmates breath didn’t revolt the women.  Instead they fought their urge to bite, doing as willed and making sure they pushed their spit and drool into the men’s mouths.

One of the inmates unzipped himself, taking his penis out to start stroking it one handed while pulling a girls top down to reveal her naked breast.  More followed suit, taking their cocks in hand as they groped at the women.  Some of them taking the girls hands to place on their stiffened members.

April, sensing the urgency of the man she was kissing, did what Marcy advised and gently bit into his lip. He jerked back with a glare in his eye, not as passive as Robbie.  Wiping the blood from his mouth he grabbed her round the waist, pulling her in close to rub himself against her.  She went with it, content to wait for the effect to take hold.

‘Bitch bit me,’ another inmate snapped, slapping one of the girls across the face as he stepped back.

‘Fucking pussy,’ another inmate laughed, helping the girl to her feet and taking over the kissing as he pushed her hand onto him, ‘come on, give me a stroke darlin’…yeah…that’s it.’

The girls stay pliable, doing as bid, getting groped and squeezed as the actions of the men got rougher.  Their lust growing as they pushed against each other, pulling the girls hands away from other men.

Randall watches with a mixture of deep, deep envy.  Getting sexually aroused at the sight while also being very worried.  This shouldn’t happen.  Things like this don’t happen.

The first inmate, the one bitten by April, lurches back.  His hands clutching at the piercing pain shooting through his stomach.

‘What’s wrong?’ April asks, watching as he staggers back, falling to the floor and writhing.  The men look over with concern as another one drops down holding his mid-section.

‘What have you done?’ April asks, staring at the men like they’ve done something wrong.  They look at each other, some of them dropping down to help the injured inmates.  Others take advantage of the distraction to get the girls sole attention.

The inmates writhe on the ground, agonising pain ripping through their bodies.  Another one drops, then another one.  Randall stares with wide eyes, watching as the men drop to the ground.  A few men still pay no attention and carry on groping at the girls, too heated and turned on to realise what’s going on around them.

One by one they drop.  The first inmate breathes slower, his body fighting for life and giving up.  He dies quietly, the pain preventing him from calling out.  More die, the infection coursing through their systems.  The women stand back, watching with plain faces as the men writhe and die.

Randall stares with morbid interest, watching as the first inmate to die starts twitching, like an electric current is being passed through him.  He sits up, making Randall think he’s alright.  The man stands, his movements slow and awkward.  The distance too great for Randall to see the eyes, but the motion of the man is stark.  Clumsy and stumbling, like drunk or something.

Others start to twitch, doing the same as the first man.  They too start sitting up, all of them copying the actions as they clamber to their feet.  None of them speak, none of the girls says a word, they just stand and watch.  As the last stands up they all turn and walk off, no order or command given.  Just an instant thing of them all turning to walk away.  The inmates all walking with that slow awkward shuffling motion.

Randall watches them walk away, knowing what he just saw but refusing to believe it.

Sixteen

‘Do you understand what this means?’ Marcy demands, staring hard at Reginald.

‘Yes of course,’ he nods, his face looking shocked.

‘We’re not the disease, we’re the cure.’

Her own words send her reeling.  The greater intelligence the infection had given her had left a very distant and deep nagging doubt that maybe they were the modern day version of the plague. The voice was buried deep, not heard but more felt but this, this blew that out of the water with such finality that it rocked every belief she ever had.  God, the Devil, Religion…nothing made sense.  She looks at the vast crowd, the thousands of people stood watching her.  Silent and dignified.

‘Marcy that is just one illness, it may not mean that all illnesses are…cured,’ he suggests gently.

‘Of course, I understand that…but the implication is…I’m…’

‘Lost for words is perhaps the phrase I believe you are looking for.’

‘Reggie, I need you to be sensible here, I can feel a sense of excitement, an absurd but incredible feeling inside me…you must remain grounded and tell me if I start to show any of the same tendencies that Darren did…if it looks like I’m losing it then you have my full consent to take what action you deem appropriate.’

‘Of course Marcy,’ he bows his head, expressing sincerity.

‘What else do we have here? Did any of you require medication for any illnesses?’ Several hands lift up, still abiding by her instruction to use hands instead of voices.

‘You, what did you have?’

‘Asthma,’ the woman replies.

‘Any you had medication for it?’

‘Yes Marcy.’

‘Everyday?’

‘Yes Marcy.’

‘What about now?’

‘I don’t know Marcy, I was turned last night.’

‘Too soon,’ Reginald says.

‘Okay, you what did you have?’

‘Schizophrenia,’ the man replies in the same flat tone.

‘Really? Oh…and you had medication for that?’

‘Yes Marcy.’

‘How long have you been turned?’

‘I was turned yesterday morning.’

‘What happened if you didn’t take the medication?’

‘Nothing at first, the effects would take a few days to show.’

‘Too soon again,’ Reginald repeats.

‘Can you tell if there’s any difference?’ She asks the man.

‘I feel fine Marcy.’

‘Different to before?’

‘Marcy, that is not a fair question.  We all feel different to how we did before the turning,’ Reginald cuts in.

‘Okay, you, what did you have,’ she asks the last man stood with his arm up.

‘Anti-depressants.’

‘Discounted, that is a behavioural issue that takes time to manifest,’ Reginald says.

‘I agree,’ Marcy sighs, looking at the crowd and wishing there was a way she could connect with them like Darren said he could.

‘Marcy, if some of our living challenged can talk then are you able to isolate that feeling you have at the time of them turning and use it now? Do you have the ability to make others talk?’

‘No,’ she shakes her head, ‘it’s at the point of turning and I didn’t infect some of these communicators, it wasn’t my infection that got into them.’

‘But you infected the first ones than in turn went off and infected others, so it is your strain of the infection that is transmitted to them.’

‘Reggie, we could all carry a different strain of it, Darren could have had something different to what I have, you could be different to me…I just don’t know enough about it, come on,’ they start walking across the grounds to the other prison.

‘I do not think that is logical, we all have the same infection that gives us the urge to bite human flesh,’ Reginald says slowly, ‘I understand your concept that the infection could mutate in some way with each individual it passes through but ultimately it would be the same infection, although, I hasten to add, this is pure conjecture on my part and I would further suggest that neither of us have the medical or scientific knowledge to understand it.’

‘You’re right, but he said he doesn't have diabetes anymore.’

‘He may well have said that, but only time will tell if indeed he does suffer from a diabetic attack.’

‘Darren had a large group with him, none of them dropped from anything other than the injuries that were inflicted.’

‘Be that as it may, we cannot form a judgement based on what we think we know.’

‘And I suppose we’re still in the early days, all of these have only been turned since yesterday,’ Marcy says.

‘Exactly, I am sure that what you are saying is correct, that the infection somehow cures other diseases but we cannot prove it, nor can we say for certain that is the case.’

‘That gate's open too,’ Marcy says, peering up the road to the entrance to the mainstream prison. ‘Can you smell that?’

‘I can indeed smell that Marcy,’ Reginald replies.  The scent of blood hangs in the air, fresh blood and from somewhere close by, a strong smell mixed with the stench of the living.  Reaching the open gate they pause as Marcy examines the area.

‘It’s coming from that way too,’ she says indicating up the road.  She leads a small group inside the gates, following the smell round the corner of the building to the concrete area where the bodies of the recently fallen inmates lay.

‘Fresh,’ Marcy looks down at a corpse, the blood still wet on the body and sticky pools on the ground.

‘Very,’ Reginald nods, ‘It would appear they have broken out of their confinement using that hole in the wall, had a fight following which the victors have gone up the road.’

‘You should have been a detective,’ Marcy says drily, ‘how on earth did you deduce that.’

‘From the hole in the wall and the bodies on the ground and…’

‘Yes Reggie, I was being sarcastic.’

‘Reginald, and I noted your sarcasm and chose to ignore it.’

‘April, the inmates must be close, take the girls and find them.’

‘Yes Marcy.’

Marcy moves from body to body, examining the wounds on each one.  Her head shaking at the violence they have wrought on each other.

‘And they think we’re the violent ones, the bad species that needs wiping out,’ she says out loud, ‘I would bet my life that not one zombie has…’

‘Ahem,’ Reginald coughs.

‘Yes okay, not one living challenged has turned on another like this.’

‘This one is alive,’ one of the male communicators states.  Marcy heads over, stepping round and over the bodies.  She looks down at the body, a large built male that had been bleeding heavily from a stomach wound.  She drops down, probing at the stomach of the unconscious male, ‘stabbed,’ she grips a small plastic handle and pulls quickly.  The object sucks noisily as it retracts from the skin, holding it up she looks at the item.  A standard toothbrush with the handle filed to a sharp point.

Standing up she watches the body for several seconds, looking at the shallow rise and fall of the man’s chest.  His face looks beaten and bloodied, nose broken, swollen eye and mouth.  She pushes her foot into his side, nudging the body.

‘What are you doing?’ Reginald asks. She ignores him and nudges harder, driving her foot into his ribs which causes no reaction. Dropping down again she opens his eyes, peering at his pupils, she leans back and lightly presses her finger into the stomach wound.

‘He couldn’t fake that,’ she says as he shows no reaction.

‘Fake what exactly?’ Reginald asks.

‘Fake being unconscious, my finger is inside his wound now.’

‘And precisely why would he fake being unconscious?’

‘No reason, I just wanted to be sure…so you agree, this man is definitely unconscious.’

‘Yes it would appear that he is, although again, I am, and neither are you, a medically trained professional.’

She leans over his stomach, pulling his shirt back to reveal the pasty hairy skin of his torso.  Hovering over the puckered wound she draws a mouthful of saliva and lets it fall in, holding her hair back with one hand to prevent it getting covered in his blood.  Once finished spitting she rubs the saliva into the wound, pushing it into the lacerated skin.

Standing back she watches with interest.  The man stays the same as before with no discernible change. After a minute his breathing becomes laboured, slowing until his chest ceases to rise.

‘Dead?’ Marcy asks.

‘Dead.’ Reginald confirms.

They watch patiently, eyes fixed on the corpse.  Marcy giving a big grin when it starts twitching, the convulsions start until the undead sits up and opens his eyes.

‘Can you speak?’ Marcy asks. The undead inmate stares up at her, saliva starting to drop from his swollen mouth.

‘I’ll take that as a no then,’ she adds.

‘Marcy, I hate to be the bearer of bad news but that experiment did not prove anything other than you were able to turn an unconscious man.  He may well have regained consciousness on his own.’

‘But, it does show an element of recovery, his brain had shut down from his injuries…isn’t that what happens when you become unconscious? The brain shuts down?’

‘I can only answer that I think that to be the case, but again I am unable to answer confidently.’

‘But the infection brought him out of it.’

‘After killing him first and then re-starting him.’

‘He’s not a car Reggie,’ Marcy sighs.

‘I agree the infection is a wonderful thing, my intrinsic desire is to love the infection and you along with it, but the intellectual part of me knows that I am now programmed to believe that…as are all of them,’ he casts his arm at the undead gathered nearby and the rest shuffling in through the gates.

Marcy falls quiet, absorbing his words. Reginald was right, she wanted to believe in the possibility that the infection cured everything but she knew caution was necessary. The infection was powerful enough to mask pain, the simple overriding command was to take more hosts, at any cost. But therein lies the problem, what happens when the last human is taken? What then? The infection could keep the bodies going for some time, maybe weeks, months or even a year or two but without food and water the body will perish.

Other species could be taken, they could start on the animal kingdom but they too would turn on each other until they are as exhausted and depleted as the human race.

The infection is finite. In the current state it can never achieve the ultimate objective of survival, simply because it will eventually exhaust all other hosts.  And when the last living creature is turned, be that a cat, dog, fish or any creature then it reaches extinction.

Doomed from the outset. Never destined to succeed. With that in mind the thought of the effort to keep going and turn more hosts seems futile. What’s the point? We’re all fucked anyway.

No, there has to be another way. There has to be a reason for this, and a solution.

‘Marcy, April has returned with the inmates,’ Reginald says softly, not wishing to interrupt her meditations.

She nods, still staring into the distance. Existence is suffering, the futility of it now seems absurd. To keep going, to take the humans and turn them, just so they can die. That isn’t right. But her instinct is screaming inside that there is another way. She is the key, and any others like her, Reginald for instance, or Darren, they all show there can be another way. The infection has allowed her to keep her own personality and thought processes.  Reginald too. There must be others like her around the country and across the world. The infection must be advancing others to the same level she is. If the infection can do this, can evolve to the extent that the host retains normalcy and in doing so it can put the body into a perfect state of being, killing off any other infections, diseases or virus’s then why shouldn’t the hosts evolve further?.  Become more human, eat, drink, procreate and continue life as before.  But without the suffering. Without the disease. Without the violence, jealousy and hatred.

‘We’re going,’ she says out loud, striding towards the gate she notices the freshly taken inmates and the sorry state they’re in.  Glancing back at the bodies on the ground she shakes her head with disgust, ‘animals,’ she mutters as she walks past.  The inmates sense her displeasure, dropping their heads as a feeling of shame blooms inside them. Reginald stalks behind Marcy, shaking his head and tutting at them, the communicators follow, also casting looks of dissatisfaction. The prisoners file in behind them, merging with the general crowd as Marcy turns to head up the road, away from the main road.

‘Where are we going? The main road is the other direction,’ Reginald asks.

‘The prison estates are this way.’

‘I understand,’ Reginald nods, sensing she has more to say.

‘Reggie,’ she starts, her voice slow as she thinks her words out loud, ‘we’ve already proven it’s possible to suppress the urge to bite, yes?’

‘Yes that is possible, the inmates just taken prove that to be the case, the injuries sustained are from their previous fighting. None of them have fresh bite marks, in fact of all the hosts we’ve taken none of them have anything greater than a simple bite.’

‘So the urge to eat flesh, that…thing…that makes us want to tear flesh open and destroy can be controlled. I do not feel as though I am decaying, I saw hosts that had been turned at the very start and they were rotting with every passing hour, even Darren showed signs of it. But my skin feels the same as before, and I’ve noticed that the hair on my legs and under my arms continues to grow so my body is continuing in the normal way.’

‘I agree,’ he nods, staring at her, ‘I too, although I have not been turned as long as you, have not felt any decay…’

‘And you’re stubble is growing.’

‘Yes I was about to add that, I am in need of a shave.’

‘So the infection has withdrawn to a very low state within us, we need to find a way of doing that with everyone. Harnessing the power of the infection while minimising the negative side effects.’

‘Like eating people.’

‘Yes, that for a start,’ she smiles at his quip, ‘but that is beyond us.’

‘We have neither the knowledge or facilities to undertake something of that nature, moreover what you are suggesting would require us making contact with humans and allowing tests to be conducted…’

‘But all those facilities are probably now destroyed, or the doctors that ran them are dead or turned already. Unless…’

‘Unless what?’ Reginald asks.

‘Howie said something to me, it’s stuck in my mind.’

‘You met him?’

‘No, just a snatched conversation while Darren was trying to kill him, anyway – he said they had doctors and equipment and that seeing as I could talk they might be able to find a cure, he offered to take me in.’

‘Now that I do not believe,’ Reginald chuckles, ‘I am sure he would say anything to get you, or Darren, for that matter to present yourselves so they could kill you.’

‘No,’ she shakes her head, ‘he meant it, if I had walked up those steps and surrendered he would have taken me in.’

‘Why? You told me he swore to end every last one of us.’

‘Darren kept saying he was so good, so self-righteous that it made him want to puke. Even then, in that stairwell when we we’re throwing everything at him he spoke with kindness and humility and his lads were doing everything they could to wind Darren up,’ she laughs with the memory, ‘I shouldn’t laugh but looking back it was rather comical.’

They turn the corner, Reginald stopping to stare down at the ground, ‘excuse me Marcy,’ he apologises, ‘who left their knickers here?’ He turns to the horde behind him, looking at April stood in front of her girls.

One of them steps forward, a gorgeous brunette wearing a knee length summer dress.

‘Put them back on please,’ Reginald sniffs, ‘we may be the scourge of mankind but we shall not wonder about without our underwear on, that is not proper…yes well done, pick them and…oh my word young lady I did not mean you to hitch your skirt up and put them on now,’ Reginald turns away blushing from the flash he received from the woman pulling her dress up.

‘It’s not funny Marcy, I saw everything!’

‘Well everyone’s got to start somewhere, I can get her number if you want it?’

‘You’re being facetious, she does not have a phone and nor do I, now what were you saying? I fear I have somewhat guessed where this is leading.’

‘I’m sure you have, Howie has the fort, he told me they have doctors and equipment inside it…’

‘This being the same fort with the big walls, where Darren led tens of thousands of living challenged and got them all killed…the same fort with the thousands of people living inside it, with weapons and guns…’

‘Yes Reginald, that same fort.’

‘Marcy are you suggesting we take our thousands of infected hosts to this fort? They’ll kill us on sight.’

‘If we turn up on mass with thousands of zombies they’ll slaughter us, but not all of us needs to go,’ Marcy adds hastily.

‘What you are suggesting is both ludicrous and highly dangerous…and please stop using the z word.’

‘Why? And dangerous to who? We have plenty of communicators, both you and I are able to communicate fully…’

‘We might not feel pain Marcy but we can still die and they’ll kill us on sight’ he repeats.

‘Not if we do it the right way, we’re going to Fort Spitbank Reggie, that is final.’

Seventeen

Across the road, on the other side of the high chain link fence, and deep within the undergrowth, several men lay covered from view, watching and listening.

They had discussed what they had seen, with the girls seemingly making all the inmates fall to the floor then get back up and follow them.

Heated, whispered conversations took place with theories being put forward, ideas banded about and their fear evident.  Randall let them speak for a while, thinking furiously and trying to make sense of what he’d seen.

They were still in situ when the large crowd came out of the prison gates and walked briskly up the road towards them. Spreading out and dropping low they once again lay silently as the crowd reached the corner. Randall straining his ears as their conversation drifted into hearing range, someone called Darren and Howie, a big fort with thousands of people living in it, doctors and equipment. These people were infected with a virus, that must have been what made the inmates fall down and then get back up like robots.

Randall focussed sharper as he heard about weapons and guns. A fort with thousands of people, doctors and weapons and guns. Someplace that had already killed tens of thousands of the infected people.

He listened carefully, trying to understand where this fort was, imagining a stockade with chopped trees forming a perimeter, men on horseback like something from a western movie.

The name came through clearly; Fort Spitbank. Then they moved off, the whole of them walking quickly away down the road towards the prison estates.

Randall keeps his men still for long minutes, waving his hand at them and glaring until sure the people were well gone. Only then did he move out, creeping slowly from the bushes to work his way along the fence and over the gate.

Motioning his men he takes them in the opposite direction, pressing his finger against his lips with a threatening look, leaving them in no doubt that he expects them to be silent.

He leads them back down the road, jogging past the prison, over the main road and into the gardens of a house opposite.  Still pressing them to stay quiet they make their way from garden to garden, moving away from the prison.  Spying an open back door he sends two in to check the house, waiting quietly until they return, announcing its empty.

Inside, the fifteen men go straight for the sinks in the kitchen, toilet and bathroom, using cups, glasses and hands to drink cool water. Taking turns to wash the worse of the blood and filth off. Cupboards are rooted through, whatever food was left is devoured by the starving inmates. The meagre supplies in the house only serve to whet their appetites.

‘What was all that about?’ An inmate asks the men stood crowded in the kitchen and hallway.

‘You heard that woman, she said they were zomb…’ Someone replies.

‘Fuck off! Don’t be so fucking stupid.’

‘You saw what they did to the blokes having a go on them girls.’

‘That woman said it, she said they’re infected or diseased or whatever…’

‘Zombies don’t fucking speak you cunt.’

‘How the fuck do you know what they can do? This ain’t the fucking movies…’

‘They had the inmates in the crowd…I fucking saw ‘em, stood there looking as dumb as cunts.’

‘Who the fuck is Darren and this cunt Howie? What the fuck is going on?’

‘Shut the fuck up and let me think you motherfuckers,’ Randall snaps harshly, his voice cutting through the multitude of voices as the discussion builds.

‘Yeah shut the fuck up and let Randy think,’ Colin adds, glaring at the others.

‘That means you too dumb-ass.’

‘Yeah that means you too, oh you mean me? Sorry Randy.’

‘You heard that bitch,’ Randall growls, ‘you mother-fucking saw what they did to the prisoners…’

‘Yeah but Randy…this is fucking nuts,’ an inmate replies, his voice rising with panic.

‘Get a grip motherfucker, that bitch said they infected, she said they zombies…all them mother-fucking people stood there quietly and shit, not moving, not speaking, no weapons, no guns, no knives or shit…and talking about a mother-fucking fort.’

‘That explains where the officers all went, the phones not working…computers offline…’ another inmate says.

‘Is it just here, on the Island?’ another asks.

‘Can’t be,’ someone answers, ‘they would have sent someone over by now.’

‘Fort Spitbank is on the mainland,’ an older inmate says.

‘You know this place?’ Randall turns on the man, a grizzled big man with a long grey beard and old faded tattoos over his hands and arms.

‘Yeah,’ he nods, voice deep and slow, ‘on the coast, few miles from Portsmouth.’

‘What is it?’

‘Some old fort,’ the man replies, ‘used to fight the French or Spanish years ago.’

‘How long ago?’ Randall asks.

‘Hundred and fifty years or somethin’.’

‘Shit motherfucker, you been there?’

‘Years back,’ the ex-biker nods.

‘This ain’t no interrogation motherfucker, quit giving short answers.’

‘What?’ The bearded man shrugs.

‘Holy fucking shit you must be the dumbest motherfucker I ever met, what’s your name?’

‘Harry.’

‘Harry, you look more like grizzly mother-fucking Adams, what’s this fort like?’

‘Big.’

‘Quit doing that, motherfucker! I swear I’ll kill you, you hear me? I will fucking kill you…’

‘It’s big, got big walls, sea on one side…old buildings inside.’

‘Do the military use it?’

‘No.’

‘Harry…I swear to almighty I will…’

‘Open to the public, visitors go there, old cannons…’

‘Well thank mother-fucking you,’ Randall glares, ‘if this shit is on the mainland then this shit is everywhere, that bitch Marcy said this motherfucker Howie killed tens of thousands…We go to this fort…’

‘They ain’t gonna let a bunch of inmates in Randy.’

‘We ain’t gonna be inmates, we gonna be normal Joe’s coming to warn them about this bitch Marcy planning to attack them…we mention Howie and Darren and they let us right in.’

‘But that Marcy said she weren’t gonna attack ‘em, she said she wanted to talk to ‘em.’

‘They don’t know that motherfucker, all we gotta do is get in then we see what the fuck is going down…’

‘There’ll be loads of pussy in there and booze…but armed men too.’

Randall stares at the men throwing comments at him, a desperate bunch that look exactly what they are; hardened criminals, ‘fuck that, them motherfuckers don’t know who the fuck we are, they think they’re tough motherfuckers? Try spending ten fucking years in that fucking place and then say you’re a tough motherfucker, we get inside and see how the mother-fucking ground lies…how the fuck do we get there Harry?’

He shrugs, huge shoulders lifting up a few inches to drop back down, ‘don’t know.’

‘Dumb motherfucker,’ Randall sighs, ‘which one of you bitches knows how to get there?’

Another inmate steps forward, lifting his hand as though in a classroom, ‘North Randy, we go north and get boats across to the mainland.’

‘Come on then motherfuckers, we going north…’ He threatens the men to stay quiet, leading them out the back door and across the gardens, moving steadily away from the prisons. With the new plan in place Randall keeps them away from the town, skirting the edge and keeping to the side streets.  The short journey into the urbanisation brings home the devastation they had suspected.  Bodies litter the streets, decomposing corpses left in the scorching sun and crawling with flies and maggots.  Dark scabbed, dried pools of blood smeared across the pavement and road, cars abandoned with doors open, windows of houses smashed in and doors hanging off.

At the roundabout they pause, looking over the flat ground to the end of the barricade at the base of the High Street and the wide gap smashed through it. Not a sign of a living person, no vehicles moving about, no army or soldiers. The quietness both oppresses and provides some comfort. The comfort from the knowledge that they’ve done something very bad.  Broken out of a prison and killed other men in doing so but no one is chasing them, no helicopters or police with dogs.

Randall pushes them on, determined to be away from the centre and the huge crowd of people following Marcy and that little guy with the glasses. He keeps replaying the conversation he heard, the words they used, infected, zombies, not feeling pain, battle, fights, cures, forts.

Now, street by street and seeing the reality of it for himself makes him understand this is happening, this is real. A sense of excitement grows in his stomach, a sense that suddenly the power has shifted.  Dangerous men that can fight and kill were locked away, now though, they’ll be a valued resource, warriors that can protect the rich. People will be vulnerable and frightened. This is a situation they can use to their advantage. Only fifteen men but these fifteen are worth fifty normal pussies and had already proved they’re willing to kill to survive.

The heat becomes almost unbearable, the men strip their upper clothing off, defined black bodies, pale white muscular torsos, tattoos everywhere.  Randall realises the sight of them would scare anyone, the prison blues too distinctive, the dried blood and dirt still clinging to their skin.

In a quiet street he stops the men, sending them into the houses two by two to find clothes and get washed up. Staring with a huge grin as they come back out, skin scrubbed and raw, hair wetted down and dressed in a variety of clothing.  After seeing them all in prison clothing for so long, not one of them looks comfortable wearing normal garments.

Jeans, trousers, vests, t shirts, shirts, shoes, trainers, sandals, they all look and feel self-conscious. Harry wearing a pair of baggy shorts with a Hawaiian tropical coloured short sleeve shirt contrasting against his long grey beard and tied back greying hair.

Randall, along with some of the other bigger men, have to search several houses to find suitable clothes that fit them, unwilling to settle for the shorts and tropical clothing of Harry.

Prison clothes ditched, skin washed, the smell of stale sweat now gone, bellies filled with food from cupboards and thirst quenched from cold water taps, and each of them with a sharp kitchen knife stuffed into their waistbands, they move on. Street by street they see the signs of devastation, not realising they’re tracking the reverse route of Marcy and seeing the signs of her passage everywhere.

After an hour of trudging the tiredness starts to take effect, the new clothes now sodden with sweat and clinging to skin. Randall again calls them to a stop, spying vehicles parked on driveways he send the men into the houses to find keys, it takes several houses but three cars are found and started. Fifteen men cramming into them, with Randall in the lead vehicle sat in the leather passenger seat of a new Mercedes, the air-con on full blast. Harry crammed in the back with another two inmates, shoulders digging into each other but feeling the relief of the icy cool air.

‘Which way is it?’ Colin asks, seeing two main roads branching off from the roundabout a few miles out of the main town.

‘Any of you fuckers know?’ Randall twists round, looking at Harry and the other two shaking their heads, ‘dumb motherfuckers,’ he mutters, ‘they both go North, choose one and for your sake you better pray it’s the right one.’

‘Okay Randy,’ Colin grins, navigating the roundabout and taking the left road.  The other vehicles follow behind them, the speed recklessly high as the sense of freedom permeates into the men from the years of containment.

The vehicle immediately behind the Mercedes pulls out to the left, accelerating harshly as it prepares for the overtake, the inmate driver grinning like crazy behind the wheel.

‘Don’t let that motherfucker own you,’ Randall shouts, ‘put your foot down.’ The third car comes into the play, pushing the two in front faster through the wide road, curving gently through the fields and meadows.  The roar of the engines splitting the peace apart as the three cars power along. The Mercedes holding lead from Colin drifting into the middle of the road, jigging the wheel left and right to block the path of the two behind.

The men scream in competition, sticking fingers up at each other and opening windows to shout abuse. Randall bellows at Colin, shouting threats of instant death if he lets either of the other two cars get past them.  The speed increases as the driving becomes erratic, the pressure to win builds with each passing second. None of them knowing where they’re going but lost in the moment of watching the bushes and trees fly past the windows.

The fields end abruptly as they race into tree lined streets with wide pavements and big Victorian houses set back behind large front gardens.

‘Hey hold up, what the fuck is that place?’ Randall shouts as they negotiate a long corner, flashing past a set of high metal gates. Colin slams the brakes on, the car fishtailing down the road, the men in the back slamming into the seats as the momentum propels them forward. The following vehicles narrowly avoid collision as they anchor on the brakes, swerving round the Mercedes.  All three vehicles come to rest, engines ticking over noisily as they look back at the long black skid marks scored onto the surface of the road.

‘Turn round and go back,’ Randall orders. Colin complies, slowly turning in a wide arc to start going back up the road. The other two vehicles move in, forming a lane between them. The Mercedes slows to a stop with the front drivers and passenger windows all level.

‘What are those big fucking gates for?’ Randall shouts to the other vehicles. They shake heads, answering they didn’t even see the gates. He tells them to follow as Colin pulls away, taking it easy and giving them time to catch up.

Back up the road they head towards the long corner, the gates coming into view ahead of them. Huge wrought iron things, well over ten feet high and painted high gloss black and gold with a strange motif across the front. A solid high wooden fence runs off both sides of the gate, bordering grounds seen through the gate bars.

Randall gets out the vehicle which stops just a few yards in front of the gates, sauntering over to look through. Wide grounds with big manicured lawns, square cut hedges, flowers beds and orchards.

‘What the fuck is this place?’ He asks the men gathering behind him.

‘Osborne House,’ one of them reads from a sign set into the fence further along.

‘Queen Victoria’s old house,’ another says from memory.

‘The Queen lived here?’ Randall asks in surprise, ‘I thought she was in Buckingham Palace.’

‘Old queen,’ Harry explains bluntly, ‘years ago.’

‘Who lives here now?’ He asks.

‘Says here English Heritage own it,’ an inmate reads from the sign, ‘says its open to the public.’

‘Public? Hell we’re the mother-fucking public now my bitches,’ Randall grins, ‘they gonna have some fine food in a queens house, some fine mother-fucking food.’

‘Closed,’ Harry says staring at the high gates.

‘Fuck that shit,’ Randall walks to the gates, examining the thick chain and padlock. ‘Any of you motherfuckers done a ram raid before?’ He gets grinning nods from several men, one of them running back to get behind the wheel of the Mercedes, backing it up while motioning the others to move out the way.

They scatter quickly, jogging from the gates as the Mercedes roars to life. The powerful engine screaming as the driver surges towards the gates.

‘Holy shit,’ Randall laughs as the vehicle rams into the solid metal gates. An ear splitting boom, coupled with a mighty wrenching sound fills the air as the gates burst open. The front of the Mercedes crumples, airbags deploy whacking the driver in the face, he loses control, his foot still pressed down on the accelerator as the car propels down the driveway, slamming into a wooden guard building next to a single arm barrier. The ages old guard hut bursts apart, wooden timbers flying in all directions, the uneven ground causes the Mercedes to flip onto one side, still ploughing forward onto the lawn, gouging the perfect turf with deep trenches.

‘Holy motherfucker,’ Randall laughs maniacally as the men pour through the now open gates and see the Mercedes coming to rest on one side. They jog forward, laughing and smiling as the sound of screaming reaches them.

Getting to the car they look through the smashed windows at the driver slumped over to the passenger side, a long bladed knife blade buried deep into his stomach, blood pumping out, his nose freshly broken from the airbag and streaming blood down his face.

They push the car over, bouncing it down onto all four wheels, the man inside screaming louder from the movement. Rough hands open doors and drag the man out, his hands clutching the knife buried in his gut.

‘You stupid motherfucker,’ Randall shakes his head with disgust at the man, ‘any fool knows you put your seatbelt on you retarded dumb-ass.’

‘Argh fuck it hurts…’the man gasps, his breath coming hard and fast.

‘You is fucked man, you gonna die now from your own dumb-ass stupidity,’ Randall says.

‘No…no just get me some help…’

‘Help? What fucking help? Ain’t no fucking doctors now you dumb-ass…you are fucked up.’

‘We can’t just leave him,’ one of the inmates says.

‘Fuck that,’ Randall drops down, taking a grip of the knife handle he wrenches it out of the wound. The man screams in agony as fresh blood spurts out. Randall pushes him down, holding him in place with one strong foot. He stabs down, driving the point of the knife deep into the man’s throat, slicing and hacking the windpipe apart. The man thrashes violently which just worsens the action of the knife in his neck, gargling, sputtering he dies slowly, eyes staring as his hands grab out at the inmates who jump back out of reach.

‘Dumb motherfucker,’ Randall steps back, throwing the knife down as he looks down at the fresh corpse.

‘We leaving him?’ Someone asks.

‘Go ahead and bury him…I don’t give a fuck,’ Randall replies, turning towards the lane and walking off. The men shrug at each other and fall into step behind the American.

The death is quickly forgotten as the big house comes into view, low whistles and exclamations sound out at the sight of the palatial building. Huge and sprawling, surrounded by perfectly cut lawns with laser straight lines. Old style gothic fountains dot the grounds, built into the surroundings so well they seem part of the natural gardens, organic almost.

The now fourteen men spread out into a long line, all of them taking care not to step in front of the alpha male Randall. They stare at the high windows, the arched doorways, the turreted architecture but the splendour of the view is only marginal in comparison to the expectation they have of what’s inside.

‘Spotted,’ Harry mutters. Randall follows his outstretched hand pointing at the ground floor patio style doors leading out onto the gardens.  Curtains moving, silhouettes of people inside, faces appearing to stare out.

The inmates cut across the lawn, walking a straight line towards the main house and ignoring the many low rise outbuildings dotting the grounds. Crossing the tarmacked road they enter into a gravelled area with a large circular sculpted marble central section and the main house recessed back from the large wings.

Their feet crunch the gravel noisily, the combined steps form a cascading noise the bounces round the enclosure from the high sides of the buildings.

The main doors ahead of them open to reveal an older man dressed in a checked shirt, the sleeves rolled up above the elbow, green corduroy trousers and a ruddy balding head. A long barrelled shotgun rests across the crook of his arm. He stands still, watching the men. The doors close behind him.

Randall keeps his eyes locked on the sentry. His body language and posture portraying his intentions perfectly, stoic and solid. As they get closer, Randall watches his eyes cast along the line, taking in the sight of the hard men walking towards him. Only fourteen of them but their size and appearance gives the effect of there being many more.

‘Help you?’ The man calls out, he closes the shotgun, not an aggressive act, just a subtle motion that resonates with a clear click as the barrels slot into place. Randall comes to a stop, keeping his face plain he stares back at the man, sizing him up.

‘We need food,’ Randall replies.

‘Where have you come from?’

‘Old man, you asked a question and I answered you but do not mother-fucking think for one second I am your bitch to stand here in this mother-fucking heat and be fucking interrogated,’ Randall's voice grows in volume and aggression as he speaks. ‘Now do you have food?’

The man blanches at the unsuppressed aggression of the huge black man stood in front of him, his arms bulging with muscle, thick veins standing proud of the skin, the other men looking every inch as frightening with swollen mouths, bruised eyes. The white men amongst them look oddly pale, like they’ve been away from the summer sun. Exposed arms and necks reveal a plethora of tattoos.

Other than the infected, every survivors worst nightmare just arrived. The old man knows which way this will go. One shotgun with two shots, even his practised hands might get two more shells in before they’re on him. The intent on them is clear, the sick grins and knowing smiles.

‘We got food, if we give it to you will you go?’ He replies in a shaky voice, wishing now he’d let one of the younger men come out who might have portrayed less fear than him.

‘We’ll go when we’re mother-fucking ready to go, stand out the way old man before someone hurts you,’ Randall strides at him with not a flinch as the shotgun lifts. The inmates follow suit, walking straight at the door. The old man’s hands sway as he tracks the men, not one of them flickers. The power is with them, he couldn’t pull the trigger if he tried and they know it.

His shoulders slump, the shotgun lowers to the ground. Breathing a sad sigh he steps to the side, watching as the grinning black man with the black beard walks past him and opens the door. The inmates file past him, each one of them glaring with violence at the old man. The last one to pass makes a quick lunging motion, laughing as the old man wilts back with a start.

‘Look at this,’ Randall stands in the central hall with hands on hips, wearing black jeans with a tight black t-shirt he casts his gaze at the opulence of the interior, ‘now this mother-fucking beats the place we had,’ the men burst out laughing, sniggering as they too look in wonder at the furnishings.

‘Who are you?’ An old woman steps out from a doorway, followed by more scared faces. Young and old, all of them looking pale and drawn. A couple of them still wearing English Heritage uniform from working the night duty the day the world fell.

‘We,’ he stares at the elegant old lady, fixing her with a grin, ‘are convicts just escaped from the local prison, we’re hungry and we’re horny,’ he replies. Something about the grace of the old woman, her grey hair swept up into a tight bun, firm mouth and intelligent eyes stops him from cussing.

‘We can feed you, but as for the other…’

‘For the other ma’am,’ the American drops back into old habits of addressing an older woman, ‘we’ll take what we’re not given.’

‘I see,’ she drops her gaze to the floor, a sadness comes over her, ‘I would offer myself but I rather think I am not what you desire.’

‘You’ll do for me love,’ one of the inmates says quickly, getting a few cheap laughs.

‘Shut your mother fucking mouth,’ Randall explodes, everyone within the hallway jumping at the sound of his voice, ‘if I hear one of you motherfuckers cussing in front of this woman I will fucking slit your fucking throat and drink your fucking blood,’ he turns back to the woman, fighting to bring his temper back under control, ‘I apologise for my associates ma’am.’

‘I implore you, a man of clear morals,’ she pleads with hands clasped together as though in prayer, ‘to take what food you need and leave us.’

‘Oh we’ll take the food…and anything else we want and then maybe…if you’re lucky…we’ll leave. You boy, come here,’ Randall looks directly at a thin built teenage boy, standing in the doorway of a room watching with wide eyes full of fear, ‘I said come here boy,’ Randall growls, ‘come here or I will come and mother-fucking get you,’ he screams when the boy doesn't budge.

‘Leave him alone,’ the old woman pleads.

‘Grandma, my decency towards you has a limit, I may choose not to cuss at you but I will stick this knife in your face.’

‘Why do you want the boy?’ A woman steps into view, stepping quickly to shield the boy behind her.

‘Who the fuck are you? His mamma?’ Randall takes in her shapely figure, an older woman but well maintained, he nods in approval, the leer evident on his face.

‘Aunt…’I’m his aunt, his mother didn’t make it.’

‘She dead? Hell bitch, just say it…ain't no good hiding it from the boy, hey boy…your mamma is dead you hear that? Get tough and deal with it or curl up and fuck yourself.’ He laughs at himself, a big hearty sound that fills the echoing chamber. Inmates behind him grin sickeningly. ‘How she die?’

The aunt stiffens, holding herself straight with dignity, ‘the things took her.’

‘The mother-fucking things took her, you hear that boys…the mother-fucking things took his mamma and now his sexy ass aunt is taking care of him, man I wish I had an aunt like you when I was a boy.’

‘Just leave the boy alone, please…he’s suffered enough…we all have,’ the aunt says softly.

‘Suffered? You wanna hear what suffering is? Suffering is being cooped up in a mother-fucking English prison with people talking in accents I don’t even know what they are, ain't no one gonna touch a hair on your boys head…I give you my word on that lady, but you…well you gotta make sure my boys are kept busy.’

‘I’ve heard enough, get out, all of you get out now,’ the old man barks, holding the shotgun pointing at Randall. Silence slams in the elegant hallway as everyone turns to look at him. The inmates bursting out laughing at the sight of the old codger trembling with anger.

‘You gonna shoot me old man?’ Randall asks with a grin, ‘go ahead, shoot me,’ he adds spreading his arms out wide, ‘come on now you motherfucker, fire that piece.’

‘I’m not joshing now young man, come on all of you just get out.’

‘Arthur,’ the old woman says in a warning tone.

‘No Mildred, I won’t stand by and listen to this…these men are leaving right now.’

‘Arthur,’ Randall seizes on the name, ‘you gonna shoot that thing or what homeboy? Cos you know don’t you…that you holding a shotgun filled with pellets that will spread and just about put holes in every mother-fucking thing stood here…but you know that don’t you Arthur…hell, even Mildred here can see that, you dumb-ass mother-fucking retard.’

‘Well, I can just as easy shoot one of them,’ Arthur says, swivelling his aim to the inmates stood watching him.

‘Them? Go ahead, I don’t give a fuck about them,’ Randall laughs, ‘hell you got two shots old man, and there’s over a dozen of us, we’ll kill every one of you dumb sons o’ bitches.’

Arthur freezes, panic setting in again. He wants to do something, he should do something. This shouldn’t be happening, men always panic and do what the man holding the gun says, but these men aren’t doing that. They’re mocking him. His finger twitches, an involuntary action caused by fear clenching his muscles, contracting the digit of the finger extended over the trigger. The shotgun booms with a deafening roar. One of the inmates, taken off his feet and slammed into the staircase, loses most of his upper body from the force of the pellets.  Women scream, the inmates starburst, diving all directions. Randall stands with a shocked expression, not quite believing what he just saw.

Arthur, panicking at what he just did, drops the shotgun to the floor. It lands with a thud, the vibration triggering the second barrel which fires at the front door, bursting a big hole through the antique door.

Harry is there within two strides, one big hand gripping Arthur by the throat and pushing him back against the now ruined door. Arthur is lifted up, his feet dangling helplessly a few inches of the floor. Harry grips his knife, stares into the old man’s eyes and sticks the blade deep through his stomach. The action is quick, a deep thrust that buries the blade up to the hilt.

Mildred screams, the shock causing her to feint and fall to the floor. Harry twists the knife, jerking the handle to one side. A spume of blood pumps out, coating the thick hair on Harry’s hand and wrist. A reedy gurgle comes from Arthur, his windpipe compressed so much that barely any air escapes.

Harry jerks the knife back and drops Arthur to the floor. Inmates surge in, lashing at the poor man with feet. Kicking and stamping as he wails and cries on the floor. Desperately trying to curl into the foetal position. The aunt grabs the boy, pushing him away and telling him to run, everyone else; the scared survivors of the apocalypse who’ve safely hidden in this luxurious setting, start running.

The inmates beat Arthur to death, his face and body pulverised by their heavy feet. Randall twists round and sees the aunt ushering the boy away, he lunges and grabs the back of her hair, wrenching with a violent twist that sends her hurtling to the floor.

‘Run,’ she screams at the boy, he hesitates and starts back, screaming at Randall to leave his aunt alone. Randall lashes out, a back hand that slams into the boy’s face, breaking his nose. The boy flies back, smashing his head into the wall, he slumps down unconscious as blood pours from his nose.

The aunt screams, fighting valiantly to her feet and lashing out at Randall. He laughs demonically, enjoying the thrill of the violence and not paying any attention as the inmates scatter off chasing the survivors, whooping and crying out with joy as they chase their prey down.

The aunt flails her arms at Randall, smacking him in the chest and head. Her blows go unnoticed as Randall grips the front of her shirt and pulls it down. She backs away from him, her hands desperately trying to push her shirt back up and cover her modesty. He stalks her, an evil grin spreading across his face at the sight of the flesh on display.

She backs into a wall, her eyes flicking to the boy who looks like he’s coming round, a low moaning escaping from his lips and his head slowly lifting.

‘Okay…okay,’ she gasps as Randall turns to look at the lad, ‘okay whatever you want…but please not here…’

He looks back at her, the grin still wide, showing his big white teeth. She staggers a couple of steps to the side, her hands groping the wall to feel for an open door.

‘In here…please,’ she begs. He stays still, staring at her, not speaking. His eyes casually drift back to the boy as he lifts the knife up.

Crying out she lifts her hands away, letting the ripped shirt fall open, ‘here, in here…please,’ she begs, tears stream down her face as her trembling hands scrabble at her bra, pulling it down to reveal a naked breast, ‘look…take what you want…in here…’

Randall’s eyes fix greedily on the breast, the pale skin and light freckles stark against the pink of the nipple. Without a word he walks at her, pushing her roughly into the room and slamming the door closed behind him.

Eighteen

‘You off?’ Chris asks, striding towards us, Meredith trotting happily at his side on a lead.

‘Yes mate,’ I reply as the others load into the back of the Saxon which had been prepped and made ready while Clarence and I were in the meeting.

‘She went off on one when you left.’

‘Who? Debbie?’

‘Yep, went fucking nuts,’ he nods grimly, ‘said the council was wrong and the meeting was void, that you were twisting everything to suit you and shouldn’t be trusted anymore.’

‘Fucking hell,’ I sigh with a feeling of anger building up, ‘what does she want?’

‘Another meeting, but this one chaired properly’ he says making finger quote marks with one hand.

‘Fuck me Chris, I’ve had about as much of this as I can take…’

‘I know, they’re still arguing about it now.’

‘Still? What the fuck Chris! We haven’t got time to deal with that kind of thing, this place needs shit loads doing to it and she’s just causing delay after fucking delay now.’

‘We’ll get it sorted,’ he says, but the tone doesn't match the confidence of the words.

‘Chris you gotta get that gun rigged up the top, get the guards on the gates and the alarm…’ Clarence urges.

‘I’m trying,’ he says through gritted teeth.

‘Try harder,’ Clarence snaps.

‘Tell you what Clarence, you stay here and sort this fucking mess out and I’ll go out with Howie, yeah?’

‘Fine by me,’ Clarence retorts, ‘I’ll fucking sort her out.’

‘And how you gonna that?’ Chris demands, glaring at Clarence.

‘I’ll fucking lock her up if she causes anymore trouble for a start.’

‘Yeah that’ll go down well, what kind of message will that send out to everyone?’

‘Message? Who gives a fuck about what message we send out? They’re alive aren’t they? They’ve got food don’t they?’

‘Yeah thanks for the input,’ Chris snaps, ‘have a great fucking day.’ His face goes bright red with anger. He turns, marching back towards the police offices with the dog at his side.

‘My turn,’ I say to Clarence, ‘that was a bit harsh.’

‘Like you said boss, I’m getting pissed off at pussy footing around, he better a grip of that woman.’

We climb into the Saxon, slamming the doors closed and pausing for a second before I fire the massive engines up. The vehicle vibrates to life, the dull roar giving us all a sense of comfort.

‘Soooo,’ Cookey says, ‘bad day to ask for a raise then?’

‘Yep,’ I reply, easing the vehicle forward. We go at a crawling pace for fear of causing any more damage or annoying anyone. Which is a mistake as it gives Sergeant Hopewell plenty of time to see us coming and march out of the office to stand in front of the vehicle.

‘What now?’ I gasp with exasperation.

‘Boss, why don’t you stay here…I’ll go see what she wants,’ Blowers offers.

‘No it’s okay,’ I reply with a sigh, opening the door to drop down.

‘I’m staying here, I can’t handle her anymore,’ Clarence says firmly.

‘Fair enough, Debbie…what’s up?’

‘What’s up? You know perfectly well what’s up after that little performance in there,’ she snarls at me.

‘Debbie, it was done fairly. Yeah I might have taken the piss a bit but everyone voted and we agreed it, sorry if you don’t like it but…’

‘Damn right I don’t like it, I’m going to speak to everyone here and see what they think.’

‘What all these people,’ I ask motioning towards the vast array of tents.

‘Bloody right, let’s see what they think…if you want a democracy Howie then you’ll get a proper one.’

‘Fine, that’s fine but don’t you think they’ve suffered enough without you canvassing them for support like some fucking politician…Debbie this is going too far, you’re out of control…get a grip…’

‘Don’t patronise me, how dare you say I’m out of control…forty people Howie…who killed the forty people last night?’

‘They were infected,’ I sigh, this is futile, completely pointless, ‘look, we’re going for fuel, do what you want okay, ask everyone, go and speak to every last person here if it makes you happy.’

‘Oh I bloody will,’ she shouts, her voice carrying easily to the people nearest in the tent area, they turn to look, listening intently, ‘Go on Howie, go and kill another forty innocent people, go and shoot some more babies while you’re out there…murder obviously means nothing to you.’

Her words stop me in my tracks, a terrible feeling flushes through me, a deep fury that threatens to burst me apart. The rear doors slam open as the lads burst out, all of them charging towards Sergeant Hopewell still screaming at the top of her voice.

Dave runs after them, shouting loudly for them to stand down and get back inside. Blowers looks furious, his face contorted with rage, ‘we ain't murderers,’ he shouts as Lani and Nick start dragging him back.

‘Delinquent murderers,’ Sergeant Hopewell screams. Clarence drops down, grabbing hold of Cookey as he runs past, lifting him off the ground to move him back.

‘They were infected, infected….they were infected,’ Cookey wails.

‘You killed children, you’re murderers,’ Sergeant Hopewell screeches, Terri runs at her, grabbing at her arm and getting pushed back.

‘Debbie,’ Ted walks forward, trying to call her back.

‘Tom wasn’t infected…you murdered him, you murdered all of them.’

Terri shouts for her to stop, Ted tries pulling her gently away. Sarah steps in, trying to help Ted. They all get screamed at as Debbie continues to rage at us, hundreds of people moving closer to listen and watch. I glance round seeing their hostile faces watching us.

‘Get inside the Saxon now,’ I bark. Dave grabs Blowers, pulling him harshly back. Clarence carries Cookey bodily, launching him into the back but I can see even his face is filled with fury.  Lani and Nick pause for a second, both of them staring at Sergeant Hopewell with dark faces.

‘Delinquent murderers…baby killers…’ she screeches, her voice cracking with the strain.  She gets flooded by bodies all dragging her away but the damage is done. By the time we’re in the vehicle, with Clarence stood at the back doors preventing the lads from getting back out, the camp are there, faces watching us as we drive through. No smiles this time, no friendly nods or waves. Just plain hostility, we’re the bad guys, the monsters that killed their families and children.

‘Fuck this place, I don’t ever want to come back here,’ Blowers rages, ‘we fucking killed for them…we lost our mates for them…’

‘Simon sit down,’ Dave orders him. He complies, anyone would with Dave shouting at them, but he does it reluctantly.

‘They were infected,’ Cookey says softly, ‘they were…I saw the bite marks…’

‘Alex stop it,’ Dave snaps, ‘they were infected and they would have killed everyone, you all did the right thing…listen to me,’ his voice grows larger, the tone impossible to ignore, ‘have you ever seen me doing anything wrong? Have you?’ He demands.

‘No Dave,’ Cookey answers.

‘I killed more of them than you, I killed far more than any of you…they were all infected…they were bitten and would have killed everyone, you did the right thing.’

‘You did,’ Clarence adds, ‘there was no doubt.’

‘Why she saying that then?’ Cookey asks, his voice breaking with emotion, ‘we didn’t kill no babies…’

‘I did, I shot a baby and it’s mother,’ I shout back as I navigate the vehicle through the gates.

Silence returns my words, nothing said for a few seconds. ‘The baby was bitten, the mother was clinging onto it, she wouldn’t let go…the baby bit her neck, I shot both of them.’

‘Shit…but if they were turned then why she saying all that?’ Cookey asks, I glance round to see tears falling down his face.

‘Cookey, she’s upset…she’s having an emotional breakdown, she’s done well to do everything she’s done but losing Tom and Steven have tipped her over the edge,’ Lani speaks softly, her voice so soothing to hear.

‘Yeah but…calling us murderers…and everyone looking at us like that,’ Cookey replies.

‘Come here,’ Lani moves to sit next to him, he bursts into tears, sobbing as she holds him close. Nick stares down at the floor, tears of his own falling onto his boots.

‘Come on son, you’ve done nothing wrong,’ Clarence drops into the seat the other side of Cookey, placing a giant hand on the lad’s shoulder.

My own eyes sting with hot tears as I listen to Cookey sob. Blowers and Nick both stay silent as Clarence rumbles away in his deep voice.

‘Lads I’m proud of you, I’ve served all over the world, Dave too…and I’ve never been prouder than I am to serve with you, these things happen okay? People lose it and sometimes the wrong people get blamed but Chris is back there, Sarah too…and they’ll put everyone straight.’

‘Yeah but…’ Cookey starts.

‘No buts son,’ Clarence cuts him off gently, ‘Chris is brilliant at this kind of thing, he always was…you heard us arguing back there but we’ve known each other for over twenty years. Like you three always taking the piss, that’s me and Chris but I trust that man with my life and he’ll get this sorted. And Mr Howie is the best boss I’ve ever worked for, there’s no one better to follow with all this going on…’

‘You’re only saying that cos you fancy my sister,’ I reply quickly to a snort of laughter from someone.

‘Was it that obvious?’ He replies with a chuckle.

‘Glaringly,’ I call back, ‘someone want to grab the map and tell me where I’m going?’

‘I’ll do it,’ Nick replies.

‘You can’t read,’ Cookey quips with a sniff.

‘Words not maps you dickhead,’ Nick replies.

‘What about the words on the maps?’ Blowers asks.

‘Fuck it, I’ll just make it up,’ Nick says.

‘Fuck that, we’ll end up in Scotland,’ Blowers says.

‘Or he’ll set something on fire again,’ Cookey adds.

‘Piss off…that was an accident, do you wanna do it then?’

‘Nah I get sick if I read in a car.’

‘Me too,’ Cookey says.

Nick grabs the map, opening the pages and staring at them for a few seconds, ‘what does that word say?’ He asks.

‘That says map,’ Blowers answers.

‘What about this one?’

‘That says atlas,’ he replies.

‘Fuck this is going well,’ Cookey says.

‘I’m joking,’ Nick smiles, ‘where did you say we’re going?’

‘Ted said to try the docklands, they should have fuel for the ships,’ I call back.

‘Docklands…’ Nick repeats leafing through the pages…’er…how do you spell docklands?’

Nineteen

‘Are you sure this is what you want to do?’

‘Quite sure,’ she pauses, staring at the clear blue sky, feeling the sultry heat of the air against her skin, ‘yes, quite sure.’

‘This is not the only option open to you Marcy, there is the option of staying here and continuing with the highly successful method we have thus far established.’

‘And then what?’

‘And then, well, we continue to gather more.’

‘So we exhaust the Island, turn every human and then once complete we leave and start on a different shore, moving from village to town to city.’

‘That is an option.’

‘And then what Reginald? Once we’ve turned thousands, or millions…what then?’

‘I…we…’ he drops into silence, the only urge he has is to keep going, turn more, get more, take more, the all-consuming hunger driving his thought process, ‘I see,’ he says at length, ‘yes I see…once we have turned everyone we have no further…er…well that is to say we cannot continue, well I…’

‘Reginald, the infection has programmed us to desire gathering more hosts but eventually there will be no more hosts, or the few survivors left will organise and co-operate into fighting back on such scale that we all suffer.’

‘The futility of mankind,’ Reginald sighs.

‘The futility of existence without progression, the futility of just being without advancement.’

‘There were tribes in the Amazon rain forests that had lived unchanged for thousands of years, while all around empires rose and fell they continued in near state of stasis,’ Reginald says.

‘Yes and they were content until someone showed them what they could have, once that rot set in they were doomed. I saw the documentaries too Reggie, I saw the people sat by the side of the river talking about how they long to be left alone to continue their existence in the way they had done, but I also saw they were wearing jeans and t-shirts, baseball caps and using boats with outboard engines.’

‘So if we continue we become that tribe, content to do what we’ve always done.’

‘Always,’ Marcy scoffs, ‘this just happened, like less than two weeks ago. Look at the world now in those few days, it’s near collapse…but if we do the right thing now we can turn this devastation into the most wonderful event that mankind has ever known. This is the future Reginald. The planes are sat on the tarmac waiting to be used, the hospitals are still there, the fire engines are still in place, the whole infrastructure is ready to be taken back up but by a species that appreciates it…’

‘Us,’ Reginald says matter of fact.

‘Yes, us, we’re that species…’

‘So you’re convinced this is the correct course of action?’

‘Unequivocally.’

‘Good word,’ he remarks, ‘I would say you are unerring in your beliefs.’

‘My mind is unencumbered.’

‘Many would find your position unenviable Marcy.’

‘On the contrary Reginald, I find my position unequalled.’

‘I would go so far as to say your view is understandable, and that your methods have become quite understated, while some might argue that I have become your understudy I would suggest that I have been unfailing in my loyalty to you, I am unexpurgated in my regard for you. Which has grown from seeing you become unflinching and unflappable. However, I have great concerns that the humans at the fort will find you unfathomable but I would expect you will be unfazed in your response to their unfavourable treatment towards you. I shall watch these events unfold, for they are unforeseen and truly unforgettable, indeed the humans will consider our actions so far as unforgivable which is unfortunate, and if they only take the time to understand you they will see their fear is unfounded, that we are not an ungodly species who are unhinged and ungovernable. If they allow you to explain uninterrupted and unfurl your plan, they will see their ungainly actions have been unnecessary for we only seek to unify our species in a unique union which is uninhibited and unlimited in its desire to become a unity…’

‘Reginald,’ she snaps him back to the present.

‘Sorry,’ he shakes his head, ‘I used to do that a lot in my former life, it really was quite unfortunate for those around me, ‘so we are going to the fort then?’ he asks cheerfully.

‘Yes Reggie.’

‘Can we not arrange transport? We are in the middle of the Island and it is rather a long way to the north coast, plus we’ve already walked this way once you know.’

‘And how do you propose we do that? Getting a couple of thousand zombies into cars, or shall we use the bus?’

‘Not the zed word please, can you not get them to drive?’

‘No Reggie, willing hundreds of them to drive would make my head explode probably…it doesn't work like that.’

‘On foot then,’ he sighs, ‘I always did hate walking, was never my thing you know…’

‘Never mind Reggie, the fresh air will do you good, get some colour to your cheeks.’

They walk on, Marcy and Reginald side by side leading a long drawn out line of undead headed by the ever watchful communicators. The conversation between them continues, with opinion, counter opinion, argument, counter argument, discussion and counter discussion. Reginald probing continually but with respect and patience. Doing as told by Marcy by taking the opposing view to make her think of all the options and avenues of thought.

The intense heat saps at the horde, they should be shuffling slowly and conserving energy  for the coming night. Instead, Marcy keeps them at a solid pace, intent on getting back to the north side before nightfall.

They discuss the future, of how the species could enable mankind to progress far more than ever before. On the main road they follow the route of Randall until they reach the roundabout, the midway point between the centre and the north.

‘We should take the left road,’ Reginald says as they approach the junction.

‘Why the left road? The road we came in on leads us to the north shore, we need the north shore to get across to Portsmouth.’

‘And how do you propose we do that? Where will we find boats for our few thousand living challenged? The left road does take us to the north shore, albeit further from the proposed destination but it is also the port of the vehicular ferry which is of a size capable of transporting our group.’

‘You want to us the car ferry?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why didn’t you just say that?’

‘I did, and further it will enable us to increase the size of our retinue.’

‘We just discussed the futility of increasing our group until we have a future, that drive you feel is the infection within you.’

‘But if we are passing through the town then we might as well gather a few more,’ he pleads, unable to contain the urge.

‘For a start it won’t be we, you haven’t turned anyone yet, and why cause more misery and suffering if we’re unsure of how our future lies.’

‘But what if they’re already suffering Marcy? They could be dying from illness and disease right now, the infection can save them…you said that yourself.’

‘Low blow Reggie,’ she laughs.

‘But a valid point nonetheless.’

‘Okay, yes a valid point, we’ll go your way if it makes my little Reggie happy.’

‘Reginald.’

Taking the new route they lead the horde down the wide tarmac, the ever present heat shimmer taunting them mercilessly as it hovers over the blacktop. The route is easy enough, a wide road that meanders through fields and meadows. Sun dappled shade offers a brief respite from the sun from tall trees bordering the road.

They lapse into a comfortable silence. Marcy lost in thoughts and recent memories of Darren, his wild reckless nature leading so many to their needless deaths. Imagining if she’d been in charge she could have discussed things with Howie, maybe reached a mutual conclusion that satisfied them both. But no, that was then and she was just as bloodthirsty as Darren then. She felt the power he had and wanted it, it was only by his failure that she understood this better way.

She would have failed too. Darren had to die the way he did for all of this to happen. Many events happening in a set order led her to this time, take any one of the events away and maybe she would never have reached this conclusion.

‘I thought I could smell something,’ Marcy says a couple of hours later as they reach the bend in the junction and look through the broken gates to the carnage caused by the Mercedes obliterating the guard hut. ‘Looks fresh too,’ she adds, spying the blood soaked body lying on the grass.

‘Are we going in?’ Reginald prompts, seeing the urge crossing her face.

‘Yes, I think we shall,’ she replies quietly, eyes fixed on the corpse. They enter the grounds, Marcy and Reginald heading across the lane to step through the wreckage and examine the body.

‘He’s still warm,’ Marcy says, holding her hand to the bodies face.

‘Is he dead?’

‘Quite dead,’ she nods, ‘shame. What’s up there?’

‘Osborne House, you must have been here before,’ Reginald replies.

‘No, I heard about it, Queen Victoria’s house wasn’t it?’

‘You’ve never been here?’

‘No.’

‘Are you from the Island?’

‘Yes Reginald and no, I’ve never been here…this is for tourists and I couldn’t afford the entrance fee either.’

‘Well. We’re here now, you really should see the main house. The architecture is sublime, you know Prince Albert designed it himself, it was said he missed the view of Naples in Italy which is why they decided on this location, has a view of the bay you know…and he designed it in the style of an Italian Renaissance Palazzo…’ He walks off in full flow, Marcy walking to catch up with the vast crowd walking slowly behind them.

‘The grounds are incredible and were also designed by Prince Albert, he truly was a very remarkable man in many respects and Victoria was devoted to him…’

Marcy listens patiently as Reginald plunders on, giving a full history of the house, the grounds, the history and how a Swiss cottage was brought over from Switzerland.

‘There you see,’ Reginald beams as the main residence come into view, Marcy makes polite appreciative noises, nodding in the right places as he carries on with his flow of information.

‘Oh…’ his voice drops off as they enter the courtyard. Coming to a halt at the sight of the hole in the main door, bits of wood strewn across the gravel driveway and the body of an old man lying a few feet out.

‘I take it this isn’t normal then?’ Marcy asks.

‘No not at all,’ Reginald replies seriously, ‘that’s two bodies now.’

‘Well, let’s go find out what we’ve got shall we,’ Marcy starts walking, pausing as Reginald holds back.

‘Er…maybe someone should stay with the group?’ He asks nervously.

She smiles, seeing the trepidation on his face, ‘good idea Reggie, you stay here and keep an eye out, April you bring a few with me.’

‘Yes Marcy,’ April nods at a few of the communicators, leading them after Marcy towards the door.

Marcy stops at the body of the old man, looking down at his blood soaked clothing, both bodies stabbed through the stomach and both of them fresh.

Her head snaps at the sound of wailing coming from inside, a long drawn out cry filled with pain and misery. She tussles her hair, pulling the strands over her face to disguise her eyes and steps through the door.

A scene of horror greets her, a man shot to pieces slumped at the foot of a grand staircase. People stood about looking down at the body of a teenage boy being cradled by a woman. As her eyes adjust to the gloom she casts her gaze at the women stood in the hallway, all of them with bruised faces, clothes torn and ripped off. The few men stand looking helpless. The smell of blood is strong, blood, fear and sex all mixed together.

She looks round, spotting another body of a woman lying with a knife buried to the hilt in her chest, a crimson bloom across her naked torso, the still wet blood pooling at her sides.

‘Who are you?’ someone asks weakly, a few faces turn to stare, all of them looking pale and shocked.

‘Just walking past…saw the car in the grounds and came up…didn’t you see us?’

‘No,’ the woman replies. Her skirt is hanging in shreds showing her blood spattered thighs.

‘What happened?’ Marcy asks. The humans are terrified, truly terrified but not scared of her; they haven’t seen the huge horde outside and have no idea of who she is. Something else has done this.

‘Men came,’ another woman sobs, ‘from the prison…’

‘The prison?’ Marcy asks.

‘Said they just broke out,’ the woman starts sobbing, her chest heaving as she smudges the wet blood dripping from her nose.

‘How many were there?’ Marcy asks.

‘I’m surprised you didn’t see them,’ a dignified old woman walks out of a room, red tear stained eyes but the only female without ripped clothing or visible injuries.

‘We didn’t see anyone.’

‘They left not half an hour ago,’ the old woman replies, her voice strained. She looks round at the survivors, stretching a quavering hand out to a young woman stood nearby. The young woman flinches, cowering away with her arms wrapped round herself.

‘They did this?’ Marcy asks, none of them need to confirm what she means by this. The bodies, the raped women, the injuries.

‘Yes,’ the old woman replies, ‘killed Arthur first…poor Arthur…the silly old fool was just trying to protect us.’

‘Have you been here since this began?’ Marcy asks. The question goes unanswered. The grief and immediate after effects too strong for anyone to focus.

‘Jerry,’ the woman cradling the teenage boy wails, ‘oh Jerry…’ She rocks back and forth with the body, clutching it close. A man drops down, pressing his fingers into the boys neck. He closes his eyes as he focuses on what he can feel.

‘Keep him still,’ he says quietly to the woman rocking him. The old woman moves over and rests her hands on the woman holding the boy, steadying her.

‘He’s alive, but the pulse is very weak.’

‘Are you a doctor?’ Marcy asks.

‘No, just first aid,’ the man replies sadly. His hand drops away from the youth. Marcy steps closer, seeing the thin trails of blood coming from the boys ears.

‘What’s wrong with your eyes?’ A woman asks, her voice low and flat as she stares vacantly. The reaction is instant, heads snapping round to stare at Marcy. Gasps of shock as people flinch and move away. One of the women cries out, a low heart rending wail. Faces go pale as the shock hits home. Eyes flick between Marcy and the silent group stood behind her, all of them with red bloodshot eyes.

‘Them,’ the old woman gasps.

Marcy nods, standing still while holding her head high to stare back at the people watching her.

‘But…how did you…what…’ a man stutters, his mind failing to form the words as he struggles to compute what’s happening.

‘I can speak,’ Marcy says flatly, ‘so can they,’ she indicates the group behind her.

‘They don’t speak,’ another man spits, ‘who are you? What do you want? Can’t you see we’ve suffered enough.’

‘Everyone has suffered,’ Marcy says softly, ‘we are those things but not the same, we’re…’ she pauses, unsure of what to say, ‘different.’

‘Different?’ The man shouts, the fear clear in his face.

‘Different,’ she nods, ‘we don’t want to hurt you.’

‘Shit there’s fucking thousands of ‘em outside,’ someone shouts from a room nearby.

The old woman steps forward, putting herself between the survivors and Marcy. She stares into the red bloodshot eyes, seemingly examining Marcy’s skin, ‘you don’t look like them…the eyes do but…’

‘Trust me, we are those things, all of us…’

‘What happened to you my dear?’ The old woman asks softly.

Marcy shrugs, thinking of how to explain, ‘I don’t know…’

‘But those things just attack and attack, they don’t stop…I seen ‘em killing…we all ‘ave,’ the same man says.

‘And it’s daytime, they just shuffle…’ Someone else adds.

‘We are those things,’ Marcy presses, ‘we attack and take people, where do you think all that lot came from?’

The man shouting at them slumps down, his back pressed to the wall as he sobs into his hands. Others just stare dumbly, shell-shocked and rooted to the spot.

‘The men raped his wife then killed her,’ the old woman explains.

‘Her?’ Marcy indicates the woman’s body lying in the hallway.

‘No,’ the old woman shakes her head, ‘another one.’

‘They were laughing…fucking laughing,’ the man shouts, slamming his fists against his head, ‘just fucking laughing…they forced me to watch…’ he screams.

Marcy drops her head, feeling a deep sense of shame. ‘We thought they would just take what they wanted and go…but they didn’t,’ the old woman looks down sadly, ‘they got worse, goading each other and laughing.’

‘Marcy, is everything okay? I heard you talking,’ Reginald pushes his way through the group, his movements slowing down as he takes the scene in, staring at the bodies and the injured women.

‘Inmates from the prison, they must have got out before we got there,’ Marcy says.

‘But we took the inmates, April did it.’

‘Must be others,’ Marcy replies.

‘Are they still here?’ Reginald asks.

‘No, we just missed them.’

‘Oh…oh dear…’

‘You’re not zombies…you can’t be…this is some kind of…’ another man shakes his head, his voice dropping off.

‘We are,’ Marcy repeats, ‘what’s wrong with that boy?’

‘He got knocked out, one of the men hit him,’ the old woman half turns, looking down at the boy still being cradled.

‘He’s dying,’ the woman sobs, holding him tight. She looks terrible with vivid welts across her face, her lips swollen and covered in dried blood. Clothing ripped and torn.

‘You can’t know that, he might just be unconscious,’ the old woman says in a gentle tone.

‘His pulse is getting weaker,’ the man who checked his pulse says.

‘We can save him,’ Reginald says quickly. Faces turn to him, ‘we can,’ he adds.

‘How?’ The old woman asks.

‘We can turn him,’ Reginald says bluntly.

‘What?’ A man shouts, a cacophony of voices burst out. Loud angry tones shouting in confusion.

‘But…what do you mean?’ The old woman asks with a puzzled expression.

‘We’re those things, we can turn the boy and save him…he’ll be one of us but he’ll be alive.’

The old woman shakes her head slowly, desperately trying to understand, ‘will he speak? Will he know who he is…or was?’

‘I don’t know if he’ll speak,’ Marcy replies, ‘some do, most don’t…but he won’t feel a thing, no pain…no suffering…’

‘No,’ the same man shouts angrily.

‘Can you do them?’ The old woman asks, nodding at the bodies in the hall.

‘No, they’re dead…doesn't work like that.’

‘I can assure you the boy will feel no pain, it takes just moments and he’ll be one of us, safe and protected,’ Reginald walks forward slowly.

‘We don’t have to bite him…I told you we’re different,’ Marcy adds.

‘Bite him? Oh my god,’ the man shouts, he steps forward then back again, his hands wringing in front of him, ‘oh my god…oh my god.’

‘Calm down,’ the old woman snaps, ‘what if we say no…what then?’ She asks, turning back to Marcy.

‘We’ll leave you in peace, we won’t attack any of you.’

‘Marcy, I think…’ Reginald starts.

‘I said we won’t attack anyone,’ Marcy cuts him off firmly.

‘Okay, as you wish,’ Reginald replies quickly.

‘You’ll leave if we ask?’ The old woman asks.

‘Yes, I promise you…you’ve suffered enough and we’re not going to add to that but you must understand that others won’t be the same as us. They could come tonight and they’ll be the same as before…’

‘Why can’t you stop them?’ The man shouts, ‘you can speak, you got thousands…’

‘If we see any they’ll come with us but I cannot promise that we’ll get all of them, we’re only passing through here…and I also promise that we’ll deal with the men if we find them,’ she adds.

‘The prisoners?’ The old woman asks quickly.

‘Marcy nods firmly before looking down at the boy, ‘we can save him,’ she says.

The man who checked his pulse drops down again, pressing his fingers back into the boy’s neck. He shakes his head sadly, ‘weaker, much weaker.’

The woman holds him tight, rocking back and forth, tears spill down her cheeks, wetting the boy’s face.

‘Is he your son?’ Marcy asks.

‘Nephew,’ the old woman says, ‘the boy’s mother was taken when it first happened.’

‘His father?’ Marcy looks at the gathered men.

‘Didn’t have one, single parent,’ the old woman says.

‘Let him go in peace,’ the shouting man blurts out, ‘it’s unnatural.’

‘How will you do it?’ The woman holding the boy asks suddenly, her face turned up to stare as Marcy.

‘My saliva, I can put my saliva into his wound.’

‘He doesn't have one,’ the aunt replies.

‘In his mouth then, takes slightly longer but the result is the same.’

‘Result is the same…this is sick,’ the man bellows angrily. ‘Get out, all of you just get out and leave us alone.’ He takes a step towards Marcy, his face contorted with rage. The undead all take a step forward, Reginald takes a step back.

‘Wait,’ Marcy turns to hold them, ‘we’ll go if you want, it’s your decision,’ she says to the aunt.

‘No pain?’ The aunt asks.

‘No pain.’

‘He won’t feel anything?’

‘Not a thing, no pain and no suffering…I promise you,’ Marcy implores.

‘Don’t do it,’ the man shouts, ‘I won’t let you.’

Marcy ignores him, watching the aunt instead as she struggles to cope with the decision. The aunt stares up at the old woman, fresh tears pouring down her cheeks, a look of pleading.

‘This is wrong…let the boy die in peace,’ the man shouts again.

‘What would you do?’ The aunt asks the old woman.

‘I…’ the old woman looks away, ‘I don’t know…I…the boy won’t suffer?’ She turns on Marcy. Marcy pauses, staring back at the old woman. She turns slowly, walking over to the woman’s body on the floor. She puts her back to the group and pulls the knife from the chest with a wet sucking sound. She wipes the blade on the woman’s ruined skirt before walking back to the group.

‘Here,’ she offers the handle to the aunt, ‘if he suffers then you can kill me, I won’t stop you and none of them will either,’ she glances back at her horde, April nods in understanding.

‘Marcy,’ Reginald says in a warning tone.

‘Take it,’ Marcy urges. The aunt reaches up with a trembling hand, grasping the knife she takes it gently, looking at the blade then back up at Marcy. She nods once, firmly.

‘Sure?’ Marcy asks. The aunt nods again, still holding the knife out in front of her.

‘Sick…this is fucking sick….’ The man screams.

‘Stand back,’ the aunt shouts gripping the knife and pointing it at the man.

‘This is wrong,’ he says but doesn't come closer, the aunt grips the knife, her eyes ablaze with anger. ‘Take him,’ she says to Marcy.

‘Hold him for me,’ Marcy says softly.

The aunt drops her gaze to the boy in cradled in her arm, she bends slowly, kissing his head and wiping her wet tears from his cheeks, ‘Jerry…if you can hear me I’m so sorry…’

Marcy crouches down, leaning forward until she hovers over the boy’s face. With her head turned down she bites into the inside of her cheek, drawing blood into her mouth. Her fingers move to the boys mouth, gently opening the lips. She leans forward, dropping her mouth down until she connects mouth to mouth. The aunt sobs, Marcy feeling the woman’s movement through the boy. She lets the blood and saliva pool into the boys mouth, holding still for a second before pulling back. She wipes her mouth then presses her hand gently over the boy’s mouth.

‘Is that it?’ The aunt whispers.

Marcy nods, moving back, ‘takes a couple of minutes, he’ll start twitching but that’s normal…he will not be in pain.’

‘How do you know,’ the man demands.

‘Because it was done to me,’ Marcy replies.

‘And me,’ Reginald adds, ‘he won’t feel a thing.’

Silence falls, the quietness only broken by the gentle sobs as the survivors watch with morbid fascination at the boy.

The aunt examines his face closely, smoothing his hair back and stroking his cheek. The knife on the floor at her side, she murmurs softly, kind words of love.

‘Nothing’s happening,’ someone says, the voice cuts off as the boy twitches, his arms jolting at his sides. Gasps sound out, the aunt holds him closer.

‘Oh Jerry,’ she cries. He twitches harder, the electric shock effect passing through his body, ‘what’s happening?’ The aunt asks with worry.

‘It’s okay,’ Marcy re-assures her, ‘just let it happen…not long now.’

They watch fascinated as the boy convulses, his body going rigid then relaxing, spasms shooting through his limbs. He stops suddenly, his body instantly relaxed.

‘His eyes will be like mine,’ Marcy explains. The aunt looks at her, staring into Marcy’s eyes and nodding.

The boy sits up, a sudden smooth motion. The aunt goes with him, almost helping him. He opens his eyes to more gasps and sharp intakes of breath. The red bloodshot eyes stare out, unfocussed and glazed. He blinks and turns to look up at Marcy.

‘Welcome,’ Marcy says with a gentle smile, ‘can you speak?’ She wills him to speak. Sending all her energy into the boy, demanding him to speak, commanding him to speak. Seconds go by, long seconds as he stares unflinching at Marcy, the love and devotion clear in his eyes.

‘Jerry?’ The aunt asks softly, a begging tone in her voice.

‘Don’t be alarmed,’ Reginald says, ‘most don’t speak…only few have the ability.’

‘Will he…bite?’ The old woman asks.

‘He’ll want to, but he won’t,’ Marcy replies. She stares at the boy, her eyes locked on his.

‘Jerry…oh Jerry,’ the aunt strokes his cheek, smoothing his hair away from his pale young face, ‘I’m so sorry Jerry…I’m so sorry.’

The boy turns his face slowly, looking at his aunt, ‘don’t be,’ he says.

Twenty

The men stagger out from the gates, laughing and pushing each other. Every one of them grinning stupidly, bragging about the women they took. Moaning about having to go second and third as there wasn’t enough women to go round.

The hatred they feel for sexual offenders and the actions they just took don’t correspond in their minds. The two are different, not the same. These are new times where the powerful and strong can take what they want, and anyway…those bitches enjoyed it, you could tell they enjoyed it. Screaming for more they were.

Long years spent cooped up within the prison walls. There was pornography but it was the same stuff that got passed around again and again. Most men used their hands for relief, some used other men. But the sexual release they feel now sends them bouncing along, without a care in the world.

‘We took their food and fucked their women…what a perfect day,’ Colin grins, ‘eh Randy, what a perfect day.’

‘Shut the fuck up you retard,’ Randall snaps but with a massive grin. He glances at Harry, the ex-biker the only one not laughing. Randall saw him stab the woman through the chest, and he did it while inside her. They all did sick things, Randall knows that, but that took the biscuit and he realises Harry is one to watch.

‘Where we going now Randy?’ Colin asks.

‘The fort you dumb motherfucker, how the fuck can you forget that…your brains must have come out the end of your mother-fucking cock.’

‘Night soon,’ Harry says.

‘What the fuck difference does that make?’

‘Can’t go at night Randy,’ Colin cuts in.

‘Why the fuck not?’

‘Dangerous,’ Harry replies.

‘You are fucking joking right? This coming from the mother-fucking Hells Angel that just stabbed a mother-fucking girl to death while fucking her.’

He shrugs and keeps walking, not a flicker of emotion on his face.

‘He’s right, we can’t go at night…we could end up anywhere,’ another inmate says.

‘Let’s find some more mother-fucking bitches,’ Colin shouts with glee.

‘Don’t fucking copy me,’ Randall snaps, ‘and where the fuck we gonna find pussy in this shit town?’

‘PUSSY…WHERE ARE YOU?’ Colin shouts. Randall grimaces at the sudden sound before bursting out laughing along with the other men.

‘We’ll find somewhere to hole up,’ Randall chuckles, ‘you crazy motherfuckers are sick man, fucking sick.’

‘That bitch was sick,’ an inmate adds, ‘well she will be in about nine months anyway.’

‘Yeah that’ll be an interesting call to the CSA, someone from Parkhurst got me pregnant’

‘Fucking slag, she was fucking begging for it, did you see her…couldn’t get enough.’

‘I bet her husband had a go after we left, you see him watching?’

‘What that fucker crying, fucking pussy, should be happy we gave his missus a good time.’

‘Good time, what all thirty seconds of it?’

‘Fuck off, I been locked up for twelve years you cunt, what you expect?’

‘You reckon they got women in that fort Randy?’

‘Dumb fucking question, of course they got women…they got hot ass bitches just itching for some penitentiary cock.’

‘Look at that fucker, what’s he doing?’ One of the inmates points down the road to a man walking slowly towards them.

‘He’s going fucking slow enough,’ someone remarks.

‘Motherfucker looks drunk…’ Randall says. They walk down, staring hard at the man shuffling slowly up the centre of the road. His head lolling from side to side, arms dangling limply as he walks stiff legged.

‘What is wrong with that motherfucker?’

‘I don’t know Randy…’ Colin replies.

‘It was a mother-fucking rhetorical question you dumb-ass,’ one of the inmates stares across at Randall, about to question if it was a rhetorical question but then thinks better of it.

‘Ere, look at his eyes, they all fucked up,’ Colin says as they get closer. The undead watches them, his head rolling about as he shuffles towards the food source.

‘Now that is one fucked up retard…’ Randall says as the men gather in a rough semi-circle round the man and stare at his deathly white skin, deep eye sockets and thin lips pulled back to show yellow rotting teeth. Maggots infect a wound in his neck, little fat worms that writhe and pulse. His clothes hang in shreds from long days spent in the hot sun.

‘He must be one of them things eh Randy,’ Colin says.

‘You fucking think?’ Randall retorts.

‘Look at him shuffle, he’s all fucked up…’ere mate I said you was all fucked up,’ Colin shouts at the shuffler.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’

‘I’m talking to him Randy…those others could talk didn’t they.’

‘Man he drooling like a rabid mother-fucking dog,’ Randall looks in disgust, stepping back as the zombie turns to shuffle towards him.

‘He likes you Randy,’ Colin laughs.

‘More,’ Harry mutters. The men turn to see undead shuffling from a house a few doors up, the slow ungainly movements, stiff legged as they totter towards the gate, slowly spilling out onto the road.

‘These are some ugly fuckers,’ Randall says, staring at the decomposing bodies, rancid with decay and a strong fetid odour coming from them.

‘These like the ones from the movies,’ Colin says, ‘all slow and shuffling…why they different to them other ones eh Randy?’

‘How the fuck would I know the answer to that? I ain’t the mother-fucking zombie expert.’

‘They’ve all stopped…what they doin’ now Randy?’

‘They wondering why you keep asking dumb-ass questions is what they’re doing.’ The inmates stare, transfixed as the undead all stop and slowly turn their heads to the now dark sky. As the sun drops below the horizon the howling begins.

The inmates flinch in surprise, having been safely away from the undead since the event happened they watch with fascination as the gathered zombies howl and roar into the night. All around them animal screeches howl, long echoing noises that roll and bounce down the streets and houses, funnelled along the roads. Many voices take chorus, filling the air with sound.

Colin throws his head back and howls, the others start laughing then joining in. Long whooping noises of wolves or dogs. They keep going, mocking the undead and laughing as they get louder. Several group together, doing a wolf harmony.

The sound of the undead ceases abruptly. It just ends, leaving the inmates mid song and trailing off to look about them bemused.

The undead change, the heads become fixed instead of lolling. The eyes fix on the inmates, the movements suddenly not so slow and ungainly.

The closest undead lunges at Randall with frightening speed. Randall lashes out, smashing the thing in the head with a hard fist, sending it reeling off to the side.

The other undead burst into action, charging at the inmates. Instead of running, the inmates stand ready, clenching fists and shouting with aggression.

The undead are taken down, just a few of them against the many strong inmates. The fight is over within seconds. The prisoners stamping and kicking at the things, killing them easily.

‘What the fuck was that?’ Randall shouts.

‘More,’ Harry says. The others turn, seeing the drawn out line of undead staggering round the corner and running at them.

‘Fuck this,’ Randall mutters, they start running. Jogging away from the undead and heading further into the small town.

‘Why ain’t we getting’ the fit birds?’ Colin wails, ‘ain’t bloody fair.’

‘Shut your mother-fucking mouth and keep running.’

‘Fight,’ Harry says, his breath coming hard from having to run, Randall looks across at the man, seeing his red flushed face as he struggles to keep up.

‘You wanna fight them things?’ Randall asks, his own breathing coming easy enough.

‘Can’t run.’

‘You fight them if you want, I’m fucking running.’

Harry looks back, the long beard brushing against his chest as he cranes his neck round. His breathing getting harder and harder, heart hammering in his chest. A big man like Randall but just bulk and a lifetime of hard living now taking its toll.

‘There,’ one of the inmates shouts, pointing ahead. They peer down the long road to the small collection of shops forming the tiny town centre. A supermarket on the corner of a paltry town square, the doors smashed in offering a tempting hole to run through.

The men keep going, the slight descent of the road aiding their motion. Harry breathes harder and harder, struggling with pain shooting through his chest.

‘Move your fat ass,’ Randall shouts, shoving the man ahead. He stumbles, feet pounding the road surface.

The group reach the supermarket, forcing their way through the busted doors to stand bending over with hands on knees, gasping for breath.

Randall moves quickly, scanning the looted interior. Surging forward he grabs the end of a shelving unit and starts trying to drag it, ‘get the end,’ he shouts. Inmates grab at the unit, dragging the heavy long shelves across the tiled floor, shoving them against the gap of the front doors.

The unit is pushed in place as the undead reach the doors, growls sound from the outside as they slam into the shelves. The men brace themselves against it, digging their feet in and pushing backs to hold it against the doors.

‘More,’ Harry shouts, his face an unhealthy crimson colour.

‘Stay the fuck there,’ Randall shouts at the men holding the unit, he takes the others and grabs more shelves, dragging them over to stack in the doorway. They work quickly, glancing at the large plate glass windows as more undead stagger past to the front doors.

‘Top,’ Harry shouts. The busted in doors prevent the shelving units from being flush against the opening, leaving a gap large enough for the undead to squeeze through and climb over. The first face appears, wild with fury, spittle hanging from the pulled back lips. Eyes wild and red as the clawed hands scrabble to gain purchase. The thing drives forward, ignoring the glass shards slicing at its skin and the sharp metal edges gouging into his legs.

Harry pulls his knife, steps back and stabs up, jamming the point into the things face. It slices deep through the cheek but causes no reaction other than blood spurting out. The thing, seeing its prey so close, scrabbles harder, heaving its body higher onto the units. Harry stabs up again, more knives join in, thrusting the points deep into the creatures face, cutting the skin to hanging bloody rags.

‘Move,’ Randall shouts, the men step aside as he swings a heavy fire extinguisher at the head, slamming the end of the tube into the things head. It snaps back, the force propelling it backwards to drop out of sight.

More clamber up, following the actions of the first one and using its downed body to step on. The men stab and thrust with knives, puckering the cheeks and faces of the undead. They ignore the blows and keep going. Blood pissing from many wounds, pouring onto the top of the units and dripping down the front. The inmates tilt their heads back in an effort to avoid the dripping blood.

The upwards motion causes the blood to spurt onto their blades and drip over the handles onto wrists and down forearms.

Shoulders start to burn from the exertion of the constant thrusting up. The men shout and growl, muttering oaths as they fend the things off.

An undead pushes through, the body slithering across the blood slick top of the units, it drops down into the store, landing heavily at the inmates feet. They stamp down, ending the thing under a reign of blows.

A loud thudding cracking noise snaps their heads round to the wall sized plate glass window at the front of the shop. Undead on the outside, slamming their bodies into the glass. Long spider web cracks form as the glass starts to fracture.

‘Move back,’ Randall shouts. The men dart away from the shelves, the sudden removal of their weight causes the shelves to topple forward from the press of bodies clambering against the reverse side.

It crashes down with undead landing amongst the debris. The window smashes, a deep cracking sound as the glass shatters and more undead bodies fall through, getting cut to ribbons by the long shards.

The men back away quickly, moving deeper into the store. Randall leads the way, heading towards the heavy plastic curtain at the back separating the store from the rear store rooms. He pushes through, shouting in anger at the undead coming at him.

He stabs out, plunging the blade of his knife deep into the chest. The thing ignores the blow, pushing forward. Randall braces and explodes out, forcing the thing of its feet to fall back onto the floor. Randall pulls the knife and stabs down into the neck. A spray of hot blood arcs out as the main artery is severed.

The delay is enough to allow the undead coming through the store to catch up. Fierce fighting breaks out at the heavy plastic curtain. Men shouting as they lash out, stabbing at the heads and necks of the undead fighting to get at them.

The dozen or so men fight furiously, using skills honed over years of violence and living in the confines of a hardened prison. Harry, now the running is over, comes into his own, lashing out with enormous power as he uses his bulk and size to drive them back.

More undead stagger into the rear store room, Randall and a couple of others fight forward, cutting them down as they beat a path to the rear doors.

The first inmate goes down, slipping on blood and dropping to the floor. Undead lunge down instantly, digging teeth into any exposed flesh. The man screams, thrashing out violently. The other inmates ignore him as they back away, leaving him to become engulfed.

Randall gets to the rear doors, bursting through into the open air. Just a few undead stagger towards them, wild with fury as they surge at the fresh prey. The men get through the door, no order or control, just every man fighting for himself. They push and shove against each other, swearing to move out the way.

In the back street they still can’t turn and run. The constant press of undead coming at them through the store keeps them focussed, knowing if they try and turn they’ll be taken down.

They move quicker, fighting backwards across the road. Randall and a few others attacking from the sides. Slashing and hacking at the monsters, cutting into necks and stabbing deep into the sides. Puncturing with rapid movements. They wrap strong arms round the undead necks as they drive the knife points in again and again. Blades sawing at jugulars. Fists lash out, hammering into faces, feet kick out, driving the things back.

Another one drops, tripping on the kerb and losing his balance enough for an undead to dive in and drive him off his feet. Again the men ignore his pleas for help, constantly moving back as the man is taken, bites covering his arms and legs, teeth gripping and tearing into his neck.

Through the midst of the battle Randall notices the inmate taken down in the store staggering from the back doors. For a second he thinks the man has fought free, then he sees the staggering motion that matches the other things perfectly.

‘Motherfucker,’ he mutters through hard breathing as the undead inmate surges into the fray.

The sound of fighting rolls down the quiet streets, alerting undead who start staggering towards the noise, drawn by the promise of a feast.

The inmates battle on, unable to flee and having to fight their ground as yet more of the things appear through the store and at the ends of the street, staggering and running as fast as possible.

The situation becomes impossible, the inmates, as strong, violent and tough as they are soon become heavily outnumbered.

Taken one by one the numbers start to dwindle, cut down as the last few days of physical exertion takes its toll, arms getting slower and slower, the power of their stabs dwindling. The cheap knife blades becoming blunt, handles too slick to keep hold of fall from hands.

Randall loses his own knife, driving it deep into the chest of an undead who falls to the ground, pulling the knife down with him.

‘Motherfucker,’ Randall rages at the injustice of it. Breaking free from prison just for this to happen in some shitty little street. The small group form into a tight circle. Colin, despite his stupidity, fights like a demon.  A pure vicious streak gives him constant pleasure from the wounds and injuries he can inflict. The danger of the situation doesn't register as he revels in the gore, screaming with delight every time he stabs at one of the things.

Another goes down, undead surging in to push him bodily to the floor. The inmates close ranks, leaving him to die noisily.

Randall fights with bare hands, his knuckles bruising from the constant punches he lands. Busting undead noses and jaws, fracturing skulls as he stamps down.

He punches straight, his fist impacting the mouth of an undead. The dirty yellow teeth split the skin on Randall's knuckles, slicing the flesh open. The wound is tiny and unnoticed with the adrenalin of the fight. The blood from the undead's mouth coats the knuckles, soaking into the wound.

The infection surges through this powerful physique, the awesome strength of the man doing nothing to stop the spread as the virus drives through the organs, turning every cell. Within seconds Randall becomes aware of pain in his stomach.

Grimacing he fights on, ignoring the growing pain. The agony grips him, still he fights on, refusing to succumb to the pain. Years spent power lifting, and used to the burning feeling of lactic acid in his muscles his mind set allows him to keep going. Focus and keep going, ignore the pain and do what you set out to do.

He roars deeply, eyes wide and bulging. The infection takes over his body. The undead suddenly move away from him. Somehow recognising he is now taken. They switch to the others, leaving Randall un-challenged. The confusion hits him as hard as the pain. No longer able to ignore it he clutches his stomach, staggering away from his group which spells their end. The undead swarm them through the gap he creates.

The inmates are taken down, overwhelmed by a pressed attack. Teeth dig into fingers, hands, legs, ankles, necks, anything that can be bitten is bit.

Randall staggers away, refusing to give in. The pain increases as he fights it. Roaring with sheer stubbornness. His vision becomes blurred as hot tears sting his eyes. He drops down to his knees, still refusing to let the pain defeat him.

His impossible refusal does nothing to stop the inevitable. The infection takes him, driving him to the ground as it starts to shut his body down. He sinks to the floor, lying on his back. Veins bulging from his muscles as he tenses against the agony.

Rage burns through him, pure fury as he keeps fighting to the very end. He dies noisily, screaming, shouting and swearing which slowly drops down to growling mutters. Gritting his teeth he fixes his eyes on the bright moon. Breathing coming harder, heart slowing, the infection takes him. Kills him.

Randall dies.

Twenty-One

She looks up at me, craning her head to stare through tear misted eyes but all I can see is the exposed neck. Smooth skin just waiting to be bitten. My mouth fills with saliva as the image grows in my mind. I swallow it down, breathing deeply to gain control.

The boy stares at his aunt. I can tell he wants to bite, the urge in him must be so strong. My will stops him. There was a connection, a different feeling as he came back. I was willing him to be able to speak. Focussing all my energy into that one thought. Was it me that gave him the ability or the infection simply allowing him to speak and retain intelligence?

The humans smell so good. So very good. The fear coming from them is like the scent of freshly baked bread early in the morning. The horde want them so much, so do I. But this isn’t the way. If we take these people now we prove we are the monsters they think we are and there will never be change.

The infection urges me to do it. It tells me this group won’t matter. They’re isolated and alone. No one would know, easy targets that can be turned easily, they’ve suffered greatly and I know within a few minutes they could be at peace with us and that pain would be gone. They haven’t even run away they’re so full of fear and shock from what just happened with the prisoners that escaped.

The stench of sex is strong too. Male sweat, lust and semen mixed with blood. All of those smells draw me to take them. Tempting, taunting, goading, provoking.

But I won’t. If there is to be change then it has to start here. The boy was taken with consent, albeit not his but still with consent.

He looks turns to look up at me. Every face in the big entrance hall is fixed on him. The man that was shouting stands quietly with a look of absolute shock.

The aunt look back at him, frozen to the spot. Barely believing what she’s seeing.

‘Jerry?’ She says quietly.

‘Yes,’ he turns back to her, smiling.

‘Does it hurt…are you in pain?’

‘No,’ he shakes his head as I watch intently to see if he will be flat and monotone like Robbie and April or have a greater recall like Reginald and I. ‘I feel fine…I feel great,’ he keeps smiling. His voice is young, unbroken yet.

‘Jerry, do you feel any pain at all?’ I ask him. I don’t need to ask, I know the answer but I do it for the effect.

‘None,’ he shakes his head again, ‘I feel…amazing,’ he adds after a slight pause.

The shock in the room is palpable, an extreme reaction manifesting in everyone staying rooted to the spot, unable to draw their eyes away from the boy.

Jerry stands, a smooth movement using the power of his legs to simply drive upright. Colour slowly returns to his previously deathly white face. He looks round to the assembled survivors, smiling with kindness. This kid should get an award, I know he wants to take them. The urge in him is as great as the rest of us but my will holds him back. Instead he displays kindness and grace, showing them he’s in no pain.

‘Take me,’ a woman steps forward, her face fixed on mine.

‘Sally, what’re you doing?’ The same man shouts in horror, he reaches out to grab her arm, she jerks free, stepping away from him and closer to me.

‘Four men pinned me to the floor and raped me, they laughed while they took me,’ her voice is hoarse and low, full of misery, ‘it hurts, more than anything I have ever known it hurts…take that away, please…please.’

‘Sally don’t do this,’ the man sobs.

‘You watched,’ she screams at him with sudden fury, ‘you watched them.’

‘I couldn’t do anything,’ he cries.

‘You should’ve done something…you should have fought.’

‘Sal, they had a knife to my throat…I couldn’t do…’ his voice snaps off with a sob.

‘Take me, please,’ she begs me.

‘Okay,’ my answer is blunt. It’s her choice and she’s right, the pain will go. The physical pain of being taken like that and the hurt inside too.  All of it will be gone.

‘Jerry was unconscious, you’re not so there might be some pain…not much and it doesn't last long.’

‘Just take me,’ she begs, ‘do it…please just do it.’

I step close to her, my mouth flooding with saliva again as my body prepares for the bite. This close I can smell the semen and blood on her, she’s bleeding between the legs and from her backside too. The poor woman, she must be in agony, absolute agony and it defeats me how she’s still on her feet.

Her eyes stay locked on mine as I move in close, our faces just inches apart. My hand touches the side of her face, tender and soft. She closes her eyes, her swollen lips part as I lean in. My hand snakes gently to the back of her head, holding her in place.

Our lips touch. I push harder, sealing our mouths in place as I push my saliva in. My tongue darts forward, to ensure the saliva is pushed in. It feels like a kiss but there is nothing erotic, just a tender moment of one woman saving another. I hold her close for several seconds, silence all around us. My eyes stay open, watching her face. This close and I can’t see the bruises, she looks serene.

The pain and humiliation she endured was awful. The degradation of mankind is too much to bear. This is why we have to change. We’re nothing more than those prisoners otherwise. Intent on causing misery to every living thing that crosses our path.

The seal is broken as I step away. She stays still for a few seconds, her eyes closed. Too late now, nothing will change the outcome.

‘Sal,’ the man cries. She turns round to face him. They come together, crying and holding each other close.

‘Sal,’ he breathes.

‘It’s okay, it’s going to be okay,’ she says softly, stroking the back of his head, ‘I’m sorry for what I said, you couldn’t have done anything, they would have killed both of us. Know that I love you, I love you so much.’

‘Sal,’ his voice breaks, holding her tightly, arms wrapped round her back. She grimaces as the first of the pain starts, I can see it in her face.

‘Sal?’ He asks with alarm.

‘It’s okay,’ she smiles bravely. She clutches her stomach, bending double and dropping to the floor.

‘What have you done?’ He shouts at me.

‘It’ll be over soon,’ I reply. He bends over her, murmuring and stroking her face. The pain takes her under, her already damaged body simply unable to take any more. She slips away as he kisses her cheeks and forehead, begging her to wake up.

The twitches come quickly, she convulses and again the others stare at her form. The man stays with her, holding her head.

As with the many before her, she sits up and opens her eyes. Again I will her to speak, sending all of energy into that one desire. I don’t know if it works but I focus everything into that one thought. She looks straight at me, the same as Jerry did. Her red bloodshot eyes locked on mine. Speak. I command you to speak. I demand you to speak. I want you to speak. Please. Please speak.

‘Can you?’ I ask after seconds pass and she doesn't look away.

‘Sal,’ the man says to her, ‘look at me Sal,’ he turns her head gently round to face him. Staring into her red eyes, ‘Sal? Can you hear me?’

He leans forward, getting closer and closer to her face, he kisses her forehead, stroking the hair away. Pulls away and implores her again.

‘Not all can speak,’ Reginald says.

‘Sal? Please?’ He begs and leans closer again, his mouth heading towards hers.

‘Don’t kiss her,’ I call out, ‘you’ll turn.’

‘Kiss me,’ she says to gasps from everyone else.

He lunges in clumsily, forcing her head back. I exert my will so she doesn't bite, unsure if she’ll be able to resist with him clamping his mouth on hers. He kisses her greedily, almost distasteful in manner. Pushing harder as he clamps the back of her head. She remains passive, letting him do what he wants but I know her mouth will be full.

Glancing over I see a wry smile on Reggie’s face. We’re turning people through their own choice now. No force needed.

The same thing happens again. He pulls away, staring into the distance as though waiting. The pain comes, he clutches his stomach and rolls to the floor, groaning. He dies. He twitches. He comes back.

I don’t will him to speak. Something about the man annoyed me. Maybe he was right not to fight back if his life and hers was at risk but something about him grated on me. He isn’t that man now, he’s one of us but still. Old habits die hard and the grudge carries over as he comes into the new order.

I turn round to see another of the women stood with lips locked to April. The same tender action taking place as April holds the woman’s head. I wasn’t expecting that and have to blink the surprise away.

Another woman approaches Reggie who blanches in fright.

‘Not me,’ he says quickly, ‘ask one of them.’ He waves to the horde. She looks round in confusion.

‘Come here,’ I cut in softly, ‘Reggie isn’t comfortable with kissing. Are you sure this is what you want?’

She nods back, looking scared and vulnerable. Her hands wringing in front of her, trembling with fear.

‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to, you can stay here…’

She shakes her head, still not speaking. Her eyes implore me, beg me to turn her, or is that the infection interpreting her fear into a message I want to see? Either way, she’s coming closer, seemingly determined.

She seems unsure, as though the final act of stepping in to kiss me is too much. I move closer to her and she doesn't back away. She closes her eyes.

‘Sure?’

She nods again. I go through the process of pressing my mouth to hers, she opens her lips willingly, letting it happen without hesitation. I push my tongue forward, forcing the saliva into her mouth. Her own tongue darts into my mouth and I have to fight not to bite down. I break away, the temptation almost too great. She looks at me in alarm, like she’s done something wrong.

‘It’s okay…you’ll understand in a minute,’ I say with a low voice. I will my horde to move in amongst the room, but to do it slowly without threat.

They respond immediately. Gently walking forward with respectful looks. None of them look threatening and for a minute I give thanks none of the inmate we turned are amongst them.

The frightened girl clutches her stomach, the old woman moves to her side helping her to the floor. She lowers the girl down and stays with her, smoothing her face and muttering soft words. The girl doesn't say a word, not the whole time but goes under quickly, almost willingly.

Is that something new? If the host is willing does it take less time to turn? Sally went quickly, so did her husband.

Some of the survivors back away from my group who tactfully move away, others make a decision and step forward. I can’t believe this is happening, that they’re giving themselves willingly. The battered women are the first, the trauma of what they went through and seeing Jerry and Sally coming back seemingly normal but without pain.

Their willingness prompts their husbands and partners to go with them. The bond of love binding them together.

Every one of the communicators asks them if they’re sure before they do it. That isn’t my will, that’s them learning from what I did and copying me.

‘Are you okay?’ The old woman asks the girl as she sits up to open her eyes. The girl, the same with all of them, looks at me first as if seeking me out to pour their love and devotion towards me.

‘I’m fine,’ the girl smiles at the old woman. I didn’t will her to speak. I didn’t will anything. It was done without me.

The husband of Sally is the only one that doesn't have the ability to speak. Of all the survivors who give themselves willingly, they all talk, apart from him. Maybe he can speak but chooses not to, sensing my dislike for him.

Several survivors remain human. The old woman being one of them. She stares round at the abused women who stand with almost serene smiles.

I stay quiet. Content to watch the interactions. The survivors asking the new hosts if they hurt, what it felt like. The new hosts all answer the same, there is no pain, even the agony inside is gone now. Just a nice warm feeling. None of them mention the hunger which is a deceit but an important one. Try telling them we’re all fine and don’t feel pain but we’ve got this urge to rip your face off and eat your brains.

‘Mildred? Are you coming with us?’ Sally asks the old woman.

‘No dear,’ Mildred answers, ‘it isn’t for me, I’m too old to change now.’

‘No Mildred, your age doesn't matter. This fixes everything, you won’t feel the pain from your arthritis.’

‘I may not feel it, but it will still be there,’ Mildred replies, ‘will it not?’ She turns to ask me.

‘I don’t know,’ I reply with a glance to Reginald.

‘We have a chap who suffered from diabetes, he says he doesn't have diabetes now but we simply don’t know how it works yet,’ Reginald explains.

‘I see,’ Mildred says. She seems to think for a minute as her eyes become distant, ‘no…no this isn’t for me,’ she snaps back to the present.

‘Are you going to stay here? This place isn’t safe now,’ I say.

‘I er…well I don’t know,’ she looks about, ‘we may have to find somewhere else.’

‘Remember what I said, others won’t be the same as us, they might still come for you if they see you, or smell you.’

‘Or hear you,’ Reginald asks, ‘you’ll be safer with us…far safer.’

Another couple, listening to the conversation, change their minds and step towards April. A low conversation takes place. They both nod resolutely, minds made up.

Mildred watches the kiss taking place. April and another both pressing lips to the couple who then step away and hold each other tight. They go to the floor, entwined as the pain takes them. Again the turn is much quicker as they seem to submit without struggling.

‘I’ll go with you,’ Mildred says quietly, still watching the couple on the floor, ‘but I’m not kissing you my dear,’ she adds with a sad smile, ‘something’s are just not done. Is there another way?’

‘If you have an open wound,’ I reply, ‘or if you don’t wish me to do it, then Reginald will oblige with respect and dignity.’

‘Me?’ Reginald says in surprise.

‘I’m sure you’re a charming man, but no…I would rather not kiss anyone, would a prick in my finger suffice?’

‘Yes,’ I nod. She draws a hairpin from her hair, holding one finger out she pricks the end. A tiny bubble of blood comes from the hole, making my mouth fill with drool.

‘Here you are,’ she offers politely.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Quite sure,’ she nods firmly.

I take her hairpin and prick my own finger. Blood comes out and I quickly press my finger against hers. She watches with interest as I hold them in place, gently moving the wound round to ensure the blood gets mixed.

‘Oh,’ she looks down, feeling the first sensation.

‘Let me help you,’ I guide her down to the floor so she’s resting her back against the wall. ‘Go with it and it’s much easier, breathe deeply and relax.’

‘Okay dear,’ she closes her eyes, taking a deep breathe in to slowly exhale. She goes very quickly. One minute she is breathing calmly then she isn’t. The infection kills her easily and brings her back just as quickly.

Within two minutes she is standing up again, her eyes red and bloodshot. She smiles at me and flexes her wrists. Tentatively at first, then harder, rotating the joints. She lifts one foot off the ground, moving her foot round in small circles.

‘No pain,’ she marvels.

The last four or five refuse to offer themselves, the urge to just take them is so strong, so very strong. But I gave my word and I must honour it. This is the point where I prove we are different and not the same monsters that haunt them in the hours of darkness.

I draw the others away, sending them out into the hot evening air to gather outside. The last few say farewells to their associates they’d been hiding with this. The hosts try one last time, urging them to turn. They refuse, the fear in them too great to submit.

Outside the vast crowd accepts the new hosts with barely a flicker. The communicators being the only ones to express anything akin to emotion.

As the sun starts to drop we move off, traipsing through the once perfectly manicured lawns to head into the town and the vehicle ferry port.

I know Reginald wants to turn more, or rather; he wants me to turn more while he watches from a safe distance. But that is no longer the way. I’ll defend myself and my group, and I’ll take those that are offered but I won’t take anymore by force.

Unless I find those prisoners.

Twenty-Two

‘I don’t want to go through the city, try and find a route round if you can.’

‘We’ll have to go through it at some point, unless we find something else on the way,’ Clarence replies having taken the map from Nick due to the lads pissing about too much.

‘But I fucking hate Portsmouth, the place is a shit hole…it was bad enough when me and Dave went through it days ago, god knows what it’ll be like now.’

‘Give me a minute,’ he mutters examining the map, ‘how we gonna get the fuel back?’ He asks suddenly.

‘Oh…shit didn’t think of that, I guess we can drive a tanker back if we find one, you drove the last one didn’t you?’

‘Yeah but that was lucky, I doubt we’ll find another one.’

‘The docks must have shit loads of ships going in and out, they need fuel so there must be tankers.’

‘I think a lot of is piped, plus you're thinking of Southampton, that’s the commercial docks, Portsmouth is a naval docks.’

‘Okay, we’ll try Portsmouth first and if that doesn't…’

‘What about the refinery?’ Lani cuts in.

‘Refinery?’ I ask.

‘Fawley, the big refinery in Southampton, it’s huge, like the biggest in the country or something…we studied it in school for environmental studies.’

‘Why did you do a refinery for environmental studies? Nick asks.

‘Impact on the surrounding land, they got a marsh thing next to it, you know one of those places that birds use, salt marsh! That’s it, a salt marsh.’

‘Dave? You’ve got experience of refineries, what do you think?’

‘How does Dave know about refineries?’ Lani asks.

‘He blew one up once,’ I reply.

Clarence starts chuckling, shaking his head, ‘it was seen by the astronauts on the space station,’ he adds.

‘No fucking way,’ Cookey exclaims, ‘shit…that’s fucking awesome.’

‘Are they still up there?’ Blowers asks, ‘the astronauts I mean?’

‘Oh shit yeah,’ Nick says, ‘they must be…poor fuckers.’

‘They must be able to get back down, like with a one of them pod things,’ Cookey says.

‘Nah it’s all controlled by Nasa, they have to work out the re-entry approach and the time, all that kind of stuff, otherwise they burn up or land in the middle of the ocean,’ Nick explains.

‘Imagine that, poor bastards get through and land in the Pacific, they’d be fucked,’ Cookey shakes his head at the thought.

‘Refinery,’ Dave says, bringing the conversation back to where it should be.

‘Yeah the refinery, worth a go? Got to be I reckon…’

‘Try the docks first, if they’re negative then we go for that instead,’ Clarence suggests.

‘Hmmm, I’m in a mind to go straight there, we might be able to bring shit loads back, before anything happens to it,’ I reply.

‘Like what?’ He asks me.

‘Like some crazy bastard like Dave blowing it up, I’m joking,’ I add quickly as he starts to protest.

‘Shouldn’t they have people there all the time, to shut things down and stuff,’ Nick says, ‘it might go up on its own if they don’t switch stuff off.’

‘Well it hasn’t yet,’ Blowers replies.

‘How do you know?’ Cookey asks.

‘It’s a fucking refinery, we’d bloody see it…and feel it…and hear it…fuck me Cookey if they saw one from space then I’d think we’d know about it from like twenty miles away.’

‘Fair one, you’re still a twat though.’

‘We can take the motorway round Portsmouth and go straight there,’ Clarence says looking at the map, ‘it’s an easy enough route and we can avoid the city centres.’

‘That’s got to be better then, right, we’ll go for the refinery, everyone happy?’

‘The longer we’re away from the fucking fort the better,’ Blowers mutters.

‘Fact,’ Cookey adds.

Clarence guides me to the motorway as the lads settle down to their banter, but it feels different, almost forced. The shock from last night and then this morning has hit them hard, harder than anything yet. Losing Tom was bad enough, and then being called baby killers was the final touch.

The heat is intense again, incredibly it feels hotter than yesterday. A humid heat that saps energy and drains patience. Heat hazes hang above the road surface, creating shimmering patterns. Already the world is starting to feel alien and different. The roads are clear with defined boundaries but it seems different, devoid of life.

I lean forward trying to expel the heat building up between my back and the seat, my hands feel sweaty and greasy. We gain the motorway, building the speed up as we fly past signs for towns and villages, historical places of interest. In the distance are buildings, commercial properties with long flat roofs and small clusters of houses.

As the road lifts higher we catch glimpses of the sea, vast and blue. Glittering from the sun reflecting off the still surface. We pass junctions for towns that will simply fall to ruin after being looted and emptied of anything of use. If we do ever defeat the infected, or create a vaccine or cure then it will take years to re-build what we had. The over reliance on mass production, mass farming, mass everything have left us de-skilled for survival.

I think of my own life before this happened. I could use a computer easy enough, navigate the operating systems for work and leisure and like everyone I spent hours online, surfing the internet but not learning anything of use. I think back now to the time I spent watching video clips, reading random forums when I could have been learning about survival techniques, how to grow crops, make weapons, engine maintenance. But then, like everyone, I was wrapped up in a comfortable little bubble of existence. Thinking everything was safe. There were wars and international difficulties but never close to home and the doomsday prophets were all labelled as freaks.

We all thought it would be oil that caused an eventual collapse. It would run dry and everything would break apart, but not in our lifetime. We were safe, content. Go to work come home, eat food, see friends, go to work, come home, watch shit videos online, get drunk, go to work. Whole lives spent in state of being blinkered.

Now it’s all gone. The whole thing is fucked beyond repair. So many things I wished I did. Travelled and seen the world, broadened my horizons or whatever they call it. Spent more time with my family. That’s the biggest one. Of all the things that is the one that hurts the most. Still not knowing what happened to my mum and dad. They left their house to look for me and that’s it. Wiped out or turned into one of those evil rancid fucking things. Those things took everything we had, took all the good and made it shit and caused the suffering, the death and pain for so many millions.  More than that, it must be billions by now. Every person on the planet must have been affected by this.

The fear my parents must have felt at realising what was happening and still being brave enough to go out into the collapsing world to try and find their son. Risking and ultimately losing their own lives in the process. They could have been killed by me or Dave. They could have been in the flatlands with Darren, cut down by the GPMG, or sniped by Jamie. Stabbed or hacked apart as they fought to take our flesh.

The thoughts spin through my mind. Some of the survivors in that fort would have had people they know on the flatlands. Their own children or parents, siblings even. Last night that mother held her child close, refusing to accept what was happening. No one could ever blame her, she was fighting for the life of her child and too frantic to know what was happening. The memory of the child’s head blowing apart from the bullet flashes through my mind. A split second action done amongst many others but that image is burnt in forever. The mother screaming as I shot the girl, her face as I pointed the gun at her and pulled the trigger. Her face already coated with blood from the first shot.

The faces that went white with fear as I pointed the pistol at them, the wide eyed looks of disbelief, shock and terror. The anguish of last night is etched into my soul. We’ve seen worse, we all have. We’ve all killed undead children before without a flicker of emotion but the fort was meant to be our safe place. It wasn’t our job to keep it secure. They had guards with guns that should have been there, ready to deal with anything at the gate. They fucked up, they caused this and we had to respond to deal with their mistake and then…then we get hung out to dry for it.

‘Boss,’ Clarence’s deep voice penetrates my thoughts. I snap back and realise my hands are gripping the wheel, knuckle white from the pressure and my right foot pressing harder to the floor. The massive engine screaming as the speed builds faster and faster.

I ease up, gently lifting my foot and letting the vehicle slow to a steady pace. Looking over I see Clarence staring at me, a concerned look on his face.

‘Sorry mate,’ I mutter. He nods before turning his head to look down at the map stretched out on his lap.

I feel angry at the injustice of it, that we’re being blamed for something they should have prevented. Anger at having to be at those meetings justifying our actions when we should be pushing forward and getting things done.

Fucked up. This is all fucked up. How much worse can it get?

Twenty-Three

They say that childhood shapes who you are and who you become. They say those years are the most important for development of the mind. The people around you should nurture you and guide you to become a good person. I was fucked from the start.

My daddy was a mean son of a bitch. Drinking, whoring, gambling, fighting. He did it all. He did it all and he did it hard. He whupped my ass every week. Sometimes the bruises were so bad I couldn’t sit down for days in a row. No one cared, no one gave a shit. That was life and you got on with it.

South Central LA was a steaming pot of gangs forming, splitting apart, re-forming, ground taken and territory marked out. Every kid had to prove himself to be in a gang and the violence exploded on every street.

I grew up in that violence. It was all I ever knew. At home with my daddy, at school with the teachers, on the streets with my buddies. Violence was a way of life, a natural instinct brought out by the necessity of survival.

Some escaped through education but they were rare. Most lived their lives by what the gangs said they could and couldn’t do.

I was lucky. I got into weight training to get big so my daddy wouldn’t whup me no more. My body was built for it with strong joints. I ate everything I could get without complaint. The bigger men saw what I was and trained me until I got big. Then one day my daddy didn’t whup me no more. The busted nose and jaw I gave him saw to that.

From that day I swore no motherfucker would whup me. Not ever. I got big, freaky fucking big and freaky fucking strong. My life was in the gym, hours every day, every week, every month. Lifting and lifting. Pushing weight and growing like a motherfucker.

My size got me in fights and I went into the pen when I was just a boy. That’s where I learned how to lift like the inmates lift. Heavy weights and a solid regime. Disciplined and strong.

My life went into power lifting. Blasting through local and regional competitions and destroying ever motherfucker that stood against me. I was unstoppable, a mother-fucking real life superman. I broke records for bench press and bicep strict curl again and again.

Then I came to this fucking country. This stupid, dumb-ass, mother-fucking, backwards country and some young punk whupped my ass. The flight had fucked me up. The jet lag, the change of air, the different food, the cold and damp all fucked me up so when I lifted I knew I wasn’t doing well. That punk beat me fair and square which I could take. But taunting me like I’m some mother-fucking bitch…well I swore no motherfucker would do that to me. I snapped and beat the fucker to death with a dumbbell. Driving that fucking weight through his head until his mother-fucking brains came out. He wasn’t the first motherfucker I killed but he was the first time I had a room full of fucking witnesses.

Ten fucking years I spent in that prison. That old dirty stinking fucking hole. Surrounded by dumb motherfuckers and missing my own people every fucking day. Because I was American, because I was black, because I was big everyone wanted a piece of me. So I had to fight and I did fight. I whupped more ass in that hell hole than I ever did on the streets.

Those memories flood through my head as I lay dying on the dirty street. That young punk’s head exploding from the dumbbell bursting his head apart. The people I’d fucked up and hurt. The looks on their faces when they knew they were done. Those things came into my mind.

The pain was more than I ever felt before. I been stabbed, shanked, beaten and shot but nothing comes close to what went through my gut. Thousands of nails digging into my insides. Broken glass moving through my veins. I fought against it. I refused to submit and gave it every mother-fucking thing I could.

But it took me. The darkness came down and I knew I was done for. This was the end. My heart slowed, my breathing got harder. Everything shut down, eyes gone, hearing gone, all feeling gone.

So be it. Fuck it. Fuck all of ya.

But I ain’t dead, or at least I ain’t dead now. If I was dead I wouldn’t be aware of still lying in this mother-fucking street. Except there ain’t no pain now, no pain at all. There ain’t nothing. Just a feeling of peace like I ain’t never known before, like I want to lie here forever.

It changes. The peace goes. Hunger is there now. I am mother-fucking hungry, more hungry than I ever was. Dead people don’t get hungry. Dead people don’t feel a mother-fucking empty feeling in their stomachs to eat.

I’m alive motherfucker. I sit up, feeling the strength in the abdominal muscles as they flex. My arms feel bigger and stronger than ever before. I open my eyes and see the death around me. A strong smell that I know is blood, but its mixed with shit and piss too. I never smelt nothing so strong before.

Bodies everywhere. A thick fucking trail of them going back to the back door of that store we busted through. My arms are fucking huge. The muscles are standing proud, pushing the veins out. Holy shit I feel strong. Stronger than fucking Samson with his mother-fucking hair. Like fucking Schwarzenegger from the first Predator movie.

Motherfucker this is the best I ever felt. I am fucking superhuman. My legs push me up so I’m standing. Clenching my fists to tense my forearms, knots of muscle bulging under my skin.

The power in me is fucking awesome. My shoulders are buzzing, I roll them round feeling the muscles flex and relax. I move my head side to side as popping noises sound out. I truly ain’t never felt this good.

Thought I was dead. Thought I was fucking gone and shit, but I ain’t gone nowhere. I’m right here, standing proud. Those things are still here. The dumb-ass fucking things that took me down. Fucking red eyes all staring at me and shit.

‘Which one of you fuckers tried to kill me? I ain’t never gonna get whupped, not ever…’ I walk over at ‘em, the things don’t try and attack me now. I’m too fucking strong now. Something else, something different. I don’t wanna hurt them none. But they whupped me down so I gotta fuck ‘em up but I don’t want to. They staring at me looking all sorry and shit. They didn’t mean no harm, they just hungry is all. Dumb motherfuckers just wanted some food, be wrong to beat on them now.

Guess I must be one of them. Must be, they ain't trying to attack me and I know I got bit, I still got the marks on my arms and neck. I got bit and went down. Now I’m up and they ain’t doing shit but staring at me. I must be one of them. Only I ain’t one of them, I’m me.

Movement, Colin sitting up looking all weird. His eyes are red like the things. For the first time I don’t wanna whup his ass anymore. The other prisoners sit up too. All of them with red eyes and staring at me.

We all been bit, we all like these motherfuckers now. But I can speak and think same as I used to. Fuck, better than I used to. My mind is clear, no pain anywhere, just feel like a strong motherfucker.

‘Get up,’ Colin looks at me. Dumb fucker just stares so I tell him again, ‘get up.’ He listens that time and stands up. ‘You speak too?’

‘Yes,’ his dumb-ass replies with his stupid head bobbing up and down like some puppy dog. Only he ain’t no stupid puppy dog, he’s one of my kind now.

‘You all speak?’ Couple say yes, some just stand there saying fuck all. They all staring at me like I did something special. Not just the prisoners but all the things too.

My mind fills with thoughts I ain’t never had before. No, that’s wrong, they ain’t thoughts but a feeling, like a sense of something.

Control.

That’s it. I feel control. All up on these motherfuckers. I ain’t no telepathic freaky fucker but I can sense them, in my mind.

These queer motherfuckers looking at me like they in love or some shit. Fucking fag motherfuckers. But it ain’t love like they wanna blow me or shit, but love like they wanna worship me. Like I’m a god.

Yeah bitches, like a god. That’s how I feel; like a mother-fucking god. All powerful and shit, like those Viking gods with the big arms and big beards, only I ain’t no white Viking motherfucker.

I’m nodding my head, grinning at them. They looking back at me all full of love. Holy shit my arms ain’t never felt this big before. My legs too, they feel all pumped and massive, like I just did a fucking dose of roids.

Fuck that hunger is strong. So mother-fucking strong it makes my mouth get all filled with spit. I need to eat, only I don’t wanna eat no chicken or steak. I got something else on my mind. Something I ain’t never wanted to do before.

‘Goddam I feel good, you feel this good?’

‘Yeah Randy,’ Colin grins back at me, he’s a good man Colin. He’s my buddy, we go way back me and Colin. Damn I love that dumb-ass bitch. I love all these bitches.

Where the fuck were we going? Fuck yeah, we’s going to that fort where all the fine bitches is at. Man, I could do with some fine bitch now with some big juicy titties. I’d fucking eat those juicy titties. I wanna feast on them juicy titties. I wanna fuck ‘em and feast on ‘em at the same mother-fucking time. Fine bitches and men too. I ain’t no queer but I wanna eat them fella’s just as much as them bitches. Hell, right now I’d bite their fucking cocks if I could. I’d suck on them hairy balls and bite the shit out of ‘em.

That big house is just back aways. We could go there and get us some eating but fuck, they just a few there and I heard that fort got thousands inside. That’s what we want; thousands of people to bite and suck on.

‘We need a mother-fucking boat, holy shit Harry you look like some scary motherfucker with that big ass beard and them eyes all red and shit.’ He don’t say nothing back but just stares like he always did.

‘Which way the coast?’ I ask the question and Harry just points behind me. I turn round but don’t see shit, just the end of the road and some big white building.

‘What the fuck am I looking at?’ Then it hits me. The big white building ain’t no building at all, it’s a mother-fucking big ass boat is what it is. ‘Holy fuck, that’s the god-damn strangest fucking thing,’ the boat is moored to the end of the road, just right there at the end of the street.

I start off in that direction, my eyes fixed on the boat. Big and white with a black chimney thing sticking out the top. I didn’t see the chimney on account of the black sky an’ all. A big parking lot is next to the road, that must be where the cars wait before they get on. The lot’s empty now, ain’t no fucker here but us.

There being a boat there an’ all, then that must be the water edge, so figures there’ll be more boats round here. As much as I like big things, like my mother-fucking arms, I don’t fancy takin’ no boat that size. Hell, we’ll probably sink the thing and it gotta be complicated as fuck to make it move.

My boys follow me down to the edge, walking past the big boat and moving further down. It looks like a big fucking river mouth going in towards the land. The open dark sea on one side and shit loads of boats tied up on the other side.

We can’t walk along the water edge all the way on account on some dumb-fuck putting buildings in the way, so we gotta detour round as we work down the river. My fella’s and them things that killed us following behind all meek as you please.

All of us smell it at the same time. That smell of blood, only this is different. It’s human blood. Now I know I only just got bit and shit, but that’s what it is; human blood. There's fear in that smell too, strong fear. We all stop and sniff the air, turning our heads this way and that. Ain’t no breeze, no wind or nothing. The air is sticky and hot as fuck.

The smell comes from a big old warehouse just to the side. No noise or nothing else coming from it, just the smell. We get close until my nose is pressed against the crack in the door and I’m inhaling deep.

People inside. More than one. The blood is fresh and close. Just the other side of this door. My mouth is full of spit, that hunger is worse now, driving me to get these doors open. I get hold of the door and give it a pull. It rattles some but don’t open. Harry and the fella’s take a hold and we pull together, giving it heave after heave. I guess they feel strong too as the door is wrenched open. Splintering the lock as we drag it wide.

The moonlight reflects of the scared faces staring at us. Young and old, male and female. One of them is holding a rag to a wound on some bitches arm. She must have cut it somehow and stayed quiet for fear of us hearing her, but the smell did it.

‘Motherfuckers,’ I greet the people with a big grin as we go inside. Our bulk blocks the light, casting them in shadows. They scream but that just gets us going.

There it is, that feeling I said about. My fella’s and those things want to bust on in there and start feasting but they ain’t doing it cos I ain’t said they could. Only I don’t need to say they can, not loud from my voice. I can do it in my head.

But fuck that, I ain’t letting them dumb-fucks go ahead of me. No Sir, if there’s feasting to be done, I’m getting me some. I charge in, grinning at the little faces and getting off on the fear they putting out. They scream and thrash and some even try to fight back but it don’t matter none. They all fucked.

I get a nice bitch. With blonde hair and big juicy titties. She wails and begs but my hands hold her like a vice, pulling her in close. Those titties looking all juicy so I take me a nice big bite, sinking my teeth into one of them and biting through the material of her shirt.

Hot blood fills my mouth and I swear, I ain’t never tasted nothing like it. Like metal or something but hot and sticky and mother-fucking delicious. I swallow it down and the lump of flesh that I tore away, that gets swallowed down too. Strangest thing, but once I done that I don’t want her no more. I want me another one. So I grab another one, this one a man trying to hide in the deep shadows of the corner. I drag him out by his ankle. He kicks and cries like a bitch but I lift him up, all the way up by the ankles till he hands upside down beating at my legs. I bite into the back of his leg, in the thick muscle. The flesh comes away nice and easy, all tender and succulent. I swallow that down too, moaning with pleasure at the taste, then I drop him to the floor. His nose busts open from hitting the deck and he grabs at his leg being all like a bitch.

Looking round to get me another one but they all gone. The greedy sons of bitches have taken them all. Every other one of them is bitten and bleeding. Dying on the floor and shittin’ their pants.

A feeling of pleasure grips me. Like I done something good and now I get rewarded. This is what we’re meant to do. Eat the humans, no…not eat them but bite them. Make them be like us. I get why those things were chasing us now. Hell, I’d chase now I know what it tastes like.

I stand back and watch as they die. Just like me they go kicking and screaming, fighting to the last breath. Then they start twitching and shit, like they getting zapped by a live wire. Minute later and they’re standing up, all with red eyes like the rest of us.

Funny thing is, I don’t remember no twitching. Just one minute I was dying and the next I wasn’t . Full of pain and then it was gone, like it had never been there and it was all in my head.

These fuckers must be the same, except they all dumb and stupid and ain’t thinking like I do. No, they looking at me like I’m a god again.

Scooby snack done and we keep going, following the river. The sides here are just high walls with the water lapping at them with no way of getting out to a boat unless you willing to get wet. I don’t mind getting wet, hell, I can swim but fuck only if I have to.

Further down we find the berthing place, some pontoons with boats tied on. Big expensive looking speed boats all sleek with tiny tinted windshields so the posh folk don’t mess up their fluffy hair.

The big metal gate at the end of the pontoon ain't no obstacle, my strong arms pull me up easy. I ain’t never felt this powerful, even jumping down the other side don’t send no pain through my knees like it should. My fella’s get over but the other dumb-fucks don’t seem to grasp the concept of climbing. Colin looks at the gate and pulls the handle back from the inside, swinging it open to let the others walk through.

On the pontoon I go from boat to boat, looking to see which one we can take. All of these boats need a key to start them up. We have to go back out the gate and down the water edge. We find another gated pontoon and I climb over to open it from the inside.

Same thing here, all the posh boats need keys. There might be some way of starting ‘em up without a key but I ain’t got that kind of knowledge, car-jacking was never my style.

Next one down and I don’t need to climb over the big gate, seeing as there’s a rotten corpse holding it open for us. Looks like rats and shit have been eating at it, all the face chewed off and big lumps missing from the arms and legs, white bone sticking out in places.

Another rotten ass corpse on the pontoon. Some posh boy that had fluffy hair and wearing them stupid mother-fucking brown boat shoes and tight shorts with some striped jersey. Fucking dumb-ass is all chewed up too and he covered in bird shit so I guess the local vultures or whatever the fuck they have here have been pecking the fuck out of him. But he does have a long coiled brightly coloured thing attached to his belt loop with a big shiny key on the end. I take the key and work down the boats, trying to stick it in the holes.

It fits in a big ass mother-fucking stream-lined thing with the tiny wind-shield and the flat front bit where the posh bitches sunbathe. Ain’t much room on here, not enough to take all my posse so I stick with my gang.

Funny thing is, I think it and they do it. My gang get in the boat and I don’t have to say shit. They just do it. The other motherfuckers just stand there staring at me. Hell, I almost feel guilty for leaving ‘em but there ain’t no room and thinking about it; I don’t wanna take no big group with me. Those fuckers at the fort will see a big group a mile off. I don’t wanna leave ‘em but fuck it, ain’t got no choice.

The boat is easy to use, gotta be for the retards that own ‘em. Press the button and the engine starts, lever goes forward and back and a dinky ass steering wheel.

‘We tied on Randy,’ Colin tells me. I know we fucking tied on, I can see the fucking ropes for myself through the fucking eyes in my fucking head, but I know he don’t mean shit by it.

‘Take ‘em off,’ he does as told. Getting back out to pull the ropes off then gets back in quick like, in case we go off without him.

Takes me a few minutes to get the hang of it, smashing and bumping into the side of the pontoon and cracking a few other boats. Making it move is easy enough, but getting the thing to turn is harder than it looks. Go back and twist the wheel, go forward and turn it the other way, like a car. Only there ain’t no brake to hold it still so it keeps moving and smashing into other stuff.

Fuck, ain’t my boat so it don’t matter. I get us out into the river and facing the right way, then I push the lever forward. The boat pulls away like a mustang. They got signs saying five knots. I don’t know what a knot is but I guess it’s pretty slow. Fuck that, ain’t no river police gonna come along now.

Few seconds later and we’re going past the big white boat and into the open sea. Everything is black as fuck, dark with no lights anywhere. I guess normally there be lights everywhere for the ships to aim at, but now is just darkness. The moon is bright as fuck and I know the mainland is that way so I figure we just aim that way and see what happens.

Motherfucker this feels good. The wind blasting into my face, hot wind not like in the yard when we get outside time and the cold, damp wind gets under your clothes. This like Miami or some shit. The water is flat as fuck too, ain’t no waves nowhere so the boat just goes straight on with hardly any bouncing.

‘Harry, you know where this mother-fucking fort is?’ I have to shout coz of the engine noise. He nods back but don’t say nothing.

He puts his left arm up and points across the water, ‘Southampton,’ he says, then holds his right arm up and points across the water but down aways, ‘Portsmouth.’

‘Which one we need?’ He drops the left arm and holds the right one still. Portsmouth, everyone in the world has heard of Portsmouth and the English navy and that famous ship that sank when it came out.

‘Is the fort on the water?’ He nods again, ‘we don’t wanna go there, they’ll hear us…’ He nods. Fuck, I see the thing in us has made him a new man, all chatty and shit.

Man that juicy tittie was good, tasted so damn good. That leg too. Both of ‘em tasted good as shit and makes me hungry just thinkin’ bout it.

That fort is fucked. We gonna fuck it up and eat every motherfucker in there.

Twenty-Four

‘Listen…can you hear it? Yes? Coming from the water…’

‘I hear it Marcy,’ he cocks his head to one side, opening his mouth to hear better. The dull thud of an engine coming from the river. It ticks over for a few minutes then roars to a loud scream.

I sprint towards the big vehicle ferry, just in time to see the large cruiser go flying past. Fully loaded with big men.

‘Was that them?’ I ask one of the inmates stood near me.

He nods back, watching the boat as it melts into the darkness of the water, ‘that’s them,’ he tells me in the same flat tones.

‘Are they turned?’ Reginald calls out as he jogs up, being too slow to keep up with the sprinting.

‘I don’t know, too far to tell.’

‘None of the bodies are the inmates,’ he reports, ‘they’re all old living challenged, I mean old as in the number of days they’ve been turned not old in terms of their physical age. None of them are fresh and judging by the number of bodies I would suggest they were opposed by a formidable group which would fit the profile of the inmates. There is a large pool of blood in the middle of the road and but relatively fewer bodies in that area. I determine they got turned, went down bleeding and then went off.’

‘That’s an assumption…’

‘No,’ he cuts me off, ‘more of a calculation based on the evidence. What does it matter? Either way they are gone and it does not impact on your…our plans.’

‘If they are turned then they have clearly retained intelligence by the fact they’re using a boat, which means we could have joined forces.’

‘Joined forces?’ He asks me with surprise, ‘I thought your plan was to kill them for what they did.’

‘If they were human yes, but not if they were turned. There’d be no point in holding them accountable for their previous sins.’

‘I understand,’ he nods in agreement, glancing back at some of the sex offenders in our group. ‘Well that’s your vehicle ferry,’ he adds looking up at the ship. ‘Can any of our living challenged drive it?’

‘I don’t know, I can’t access what they’re capable off, go and ask them.’

‘Right, well I’ll do that then shall I?’

‘Yes Reggie, you do that.’

‘I mean, we couldn’t get one of the others to do it…young Jerry here would make a great asker of questions…and please, my name is Reginald.’

‘Reggie, what’s wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ he answers too quickly, his voice just a tone too high.

‘What is it?’

‘Nothing Marcy, really there is nothing wrong…only how many more are we going to get that are capable of speaking? Only it seems we do have rather a lot now.’

‘Why is that a bad thing?’

‘Oh I am not suggesting it’s a bad thing, only if we have so many speakers then why not use them to speak…instead of me all the time.’

‘Well why don’t you ask them to speak then, I ask you and you can delegate to them.’

‘I can do that can I? Delegate I mean?’

‘Yes Reggie, you can delegate, you have been delegating for most of the day anyway.’

‘Only when I’ve seen you are busy and I haven’t wished to disturb you.’

‘Well feel free to delegate away, delegate to your hearts content.’

‘Jerry, go and find out if anyone can drive this boat please,’ he asks the boy. Jerry scoots off quickly, heading towards the massed group standing quietly.

‘We’re growing Marcy, look how many there are now and I still can’t quite believe how those last ones volunteered.’

‘After what they’d been through you can hardly blame them. Reginald, you need to understand this cannot all rest on one person. This is not about me. This is about us; the species. If something happens to me then you have to be able to take over, if you go then it has to be another one. The thing inside us wants you to adore me and it wants you to turn as many as you can. You must fight against that Reggie, there is another way here. I know it.’

He stares at me, nodding gently.

‘That means,’ I look at him and then at the others stood with us, ‘that if I don’t make it, then someone else has to hand themselves over to the fort and make them understand. Tell them about the diabetes. Mildred, you tell them about your arthritis and the others that don’t feel pain. Tell them what happened at the house and how this took away all the pain. This thing might cure HIV or Hepatitis, cancer even…the possibilities are too big for us to just let it go. Promise me.’

‘I promise Marcy,’ Reggie says earnestly.

‘No Reggie, I mean promise, really promise, not just from the devotion you feel for me, not that but from you…from all of you, swear it.’

‘Marcy I swear it,’ Reginald says in a firm voice.

‘I will go if you fail,’ Mildred replies, ‘they may see me as less threatening anyway, maybe I should go instead of you…or possibly with you.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ Reggie beams, ‘a very good idea.’

‘Me too, I swear it,’ Sally adds, ‘you could have ripped us apart but you didn’t. I feel that hunger now, I know we all have it…I will willingly go in your place.’

‘No, I will go but just be prepared to take my place.’

‘Marcy my dear, may I make a suggestion?’ Mildred asks.

‘Of course.’

‘If you go alone, they may see just one with retained intelligence, and from what you’ve said they will know some of us can retain our…er…personality for want of a better word, but if several go with you to represent a cross section it may assist in showing them it’s not a trick or some ploy to gain entrance.’

She makes a good point. A very good point. She looks old and dignified with her greying hair swept up into a tight bun. If I approached with her, maybe Jerry and Sally, Reginald too there is no way we could look threatening. But that puts more at risk of being killed outright.

‘I’ll consider it,’ I nod back, ‘seriously, it’s a very good suggestion but we have to weigh it up with the risk of us all being killed outright.’

‘Which is why you shouldn’t go,’ Reginald cuts in.

‘Reggie, that is the chemical reaction talking, you have to guard against that and understand this is not about me.’

‘Sorry…it’s very hard,’ he mutters.

‘We all feel it Marcy,’ Mildred says, ‘you don’t have that feeling towards yourself so perhaps you don’t understand it. We all feel devoted you, an intense feeling of deep love. Especially Jerry,’ she adds with a smile at the boy running back towards us holding the hand of an adult male communicator. The sight warms all of us. The action is completely unnecessary, the male host would simply follow him as requested with no need for physical contact. But the boy has retained enough character to want to hold his hand and lead him. That very action is why this must be done.

I know for a fact that not one of the hosts in this crowd would ever harm a hair on that boys head, nor any of the children within our group. Even the sex offenders we turned do not feel any urge towards anyone other than equal and matched love.

‘Can you drive it?’ Reginald asks the man being led by Jerry.

‘I can,’ he replies flatly.

‘How?’ I ask him.

‘I was second officer for another ferry company,’ he replies monotone.

‘What’s your name?’ Reginald asks.

‘Howard,’ his reply invokes a sudden silence as Reginald glances at me.

‘Howard? Do you know Howie?’ Stupid question, how would he know but it comes out before I can think.

‘No.’

‘Do you have any children?’ Reginald asks, taking a look at the age of the man.

‘No, I was gay.’

‘Was gay? Why was?’ I ask.

‘I’m not anything now.’

‘Tell me Howard, do you fancy anyone?’ His reply interests me greatly.

‘No.’

‘No urges of a sexual nature at all? Do any of you feel attraction to anyone?’

‘You,’ I get a chorus of replies.

‘Other than me…that’s the infection or virus or whatever it is inside…apart from me?’

Shaking heads all round. I fancied Darren but then that must have been the infection within me, making me feel like that. It went the second he died.

I glance round at some of the men gathered here. I don’t feel devotion to anyone, not the same as they do towards me. I feel loyalty and love for them, but not that extreme emotion they’re experiencing. Some of them are very attractive, chiselled features, some look intelligent and cultured, some of them are handsome enough to have been models. I can certainly admire their form, their physical attributes but I don’t feel an attraction to any of them.

No, that almost feels incestuous, like we’re related. The mere suggestion of sexual activity with any of them repulses me. That could cause a problem. If we are to survive as a species then procreation would need to take place, but procreation needs urges and without urges there will be no procreation. Unless they just do it as an act of breeding without the pleasure.

What the hell am I thinking about this for? I’ll be planning the soft furnishings for our houses next. Shaking my head I look over at Howard, marvelling at how a mere miniscule coincidence could cause a reaction.

‘Well Howard, you’re in charge of this bit, tell us where you want us,’ Reginald beams at the man, taking great pride in his new ability to delegate.

‘I will check,’ he replies before walking off towards the boat. Jerry walks back over to my side, where he’s been since he turned in the house.

Waiting in the balmy night air we could almost be a gaggle of tourists waiting to board a boat for a pleasure cruise. Nearly all of the ones closest look uninjured. The bitten ones are further back in the main crowd. They’re even talking to each other, well the ones that have retained intelligence are anyway. Having almost normal conversations about what they did in their previous lives, and as with any small place they soon start mentioning places and people they all know. Moaning about the state of the roads and how busy it gets in the summer season with all the coaches driving about.

The surrealism astounds me to the core. Thousands of people just stood waiting patiently. No pushing or shoving, no moaning at having to wait or the heat. No one griping about their feet hurting or having a sore back. No one lighting up and annoying everyone else with their cigarette smoke. Children and adults just stood together with a handful at the front chatting amiably.

‘Howard's back,’ Reginald nods towards the walkway at the side of the boat and Howard walking back towards us. He approaches quietly, coming to a stop a few feet away and standing motionless, arms hanging at his sides.

‘Is it okay?’ I ask him.

‘Yes, they can get on. Please put them into the vehicle section at the bottom so the weight is evenly distributed,’ he speaks without expression.

‘Reginald, would you care to delegate? What else do you need?’ I direct the question at Howard.

‘Please give me a few minutes to get ready and then you can untie the ropes. The tide is in with very little pull. I can hold the vessel in position.’

‘Of course,’ he turns and walks away as Reginald turns to speak with the communicators, delegating his little legs off.

The communicators work quickly but then once the instruction is given and they know which way to go there is little else to worry about. No pushing and shoving, or tickets that need to be collected and none of them will rush the little café kiosk to get served before everyone else.

Reginald marches ahead guiding them onto the big flat sections at the bottom where the vehicles normally park, using the massed living challenged, as he calls them, as ballast.

It takes just minutes and I wonder how much longer it would take with humans and all the issues they have. Definitely a lot longer. Jerry stays by my side, smitten with love as he stares up at me. Bless, at least he’s not goggling at my cleavage. The lights on the ship flicker on as Howard gets the engines going. The ship looked inert and lifeless before, but now the lights are stark against the darkness everywhere else. A sign of life and a warming sight at that.

We walk up the ramp, walking through the narrow hatch into the stairwell. The host bodies are all stood evenly spaced throughout the vehicle section. Jerry and I go up the stairs, coming out in the empty passenger lounge. We walk a circuit of the central area, going round the café and small shop until we find the door leading to the bridge.

At the top we walk in to see Howard directing other hosts, telling them to press this and turn that. His flat voice is the only real sound, none of the others say anything but just do as he tells them. The ropes are untied and he starts pulling the vessel out from the dock, gliding it backwards out into the open sea.

The pre-recorded safety message starts blurting out, thanking everyone for travelling today and making them aware where they can and can’t smoke and asking them to de-activate their car alarms, finishing off with wishing them a pleasant voyage.

The whole thing is seamless from start to finish. Effortless almost. Reginald and a few others make their way onto the bridge, like a gesture that they’re part of the top table so standing on the vehicle section doesn't apply.

‘So dark,’ I murmur quietly. The motion is so stable it almost feels like we’re still and the land is moving away. No lights anywhere. No street lights, no buildings, nothing. Just a dark silhouette with the roof tops glinting from the moonlight.

Howard turns the ship round, which causes a mild vibration as we go against whatever tide there is. The vibrations ease as he settles on course and powers the ship to move forward.

We’re away. Heading towards the mainland and the fort while I pray Howie is the decent man I think he is.

Twenty-Five

‘Jesus Christ that’s fucking massive,’ Cookey exclaims from his position on the GPMG, ‘it’s just fucking massive, like huge.’

The drive here was uneventful, we stuck to the motorways purposefully taking a longer route to avoid the city centres.

Coming down towards the site now we can see the vast, sprawling refinery. Like a city almost. The thing just goes on and on, stretching off into the distance. It looks alien to me. Something that means nothing. A complex network of giant silvery tubes and pipes running between gargantuan white silos. The whole design of the place is on a grid, straight roads leading between the silos and the concrete buildings.

From our position we can see the harbour entrance. A wide mouth that goes deep into the land with a myriad of commercial docks, pontoons, harbours and jetties.

On the seaward side of the refinery there’s a pontoon, and something in the water with big silver coloured tubes running back onto land. A super tanker, the type they use to ship oil around the world, is moored alongside. More tubes and pipes run from the ship into structures that must be pumps, used to move the crude oil through the big pipes into the refinery.

The silos must store the different types of fuel as they go through the various processes to turn it into petrol or diesel, or whatever else they make here.

We’re still some distance off which gives us an opportunity to recce the land, all of us looking out for any sign of vehicle tankers.

I take the junction marked for the refinery and start heading down towards it. Coming down from the hill we lose sight of the refinery, the road is wider than normal which I guess must be for the constant flow of heavy vehicles using it.

At another signposted junction we turn and start to see the first real signs of the refinery. A high metal fence fixed securely into the ground and topped with coils of razor wire runs alongside the road. Big warning notices are fixed to the fence at regular intervals, warning of security patrols, CCTV and only authorised personnel beyond this point.

The refinery would have been a viable terrorism threat, and what better way to cripple a country than by taking out its ability to make the fuel usable.

Within a few hundred metres we see another sign fixed to the side of the road, this one is large and hand-painted, only recently erected by the looks of it. THIS AREA IS PROTECTED BY ARMED GUARDS. WE WILL SHOOT ON SIGHT. TURN BACK.

‘Shit, looks like someone else got here first,’ Clarence says as I bring the speed down to a slow crawl.

‘Cookey, you better get down mate,’ I call out just as Dave tells him the same thing. The lad drops down, grabbing a bottle of water and staring out the windscreen at the road ahead.

‘Look,’ Clarence points down the road to a huddled mass on the verge. As we get closer the shapes come into distinction, something we’ve seen time and time again; bodies piled up and left to rot in the sun.

I stop the vehicle alongside as Clarence peers down. There are more piles further up, stacked at regular intervals like the old signs on the fence.

‘They ain’t all those things,’ Clarence says still avoiding using the zed word, ‘some people in there too, been shot by the looks of it.’

‘Not good,’ I reply. We push on, going at a crawl until we reach the next pile of bodies.

‘Same again, mixture of people and those things,’ Clarence reports as he looks down from his window.

‘Some on your side up there Mr Howie,’ Dave points to another stack on the other side of the road. The piles are set at almost the same distance apart from each other.  A clear and visible warning of what will happen if we proceed.

‘Maybe not such a good idea after all,’ I say quietly.

‘Keep going Mr Howie,’ Dave urges.

‘You sure? This doesn't look too good mate.’

‘Just a bit further.’

‘Fair enough,’ I push my foot down gently, easing the vehicle forward and passing more piles of bodies.

‘What’s that?’ I ask, pointing to a much larger mass in the distance. The view becomes clearer as we get closer. Several cars pushed together and burnt out.

‘Controlled burning,’ Dave says, ‘see the even scorch marks on the ground, someone was with the fire preventing it from spreading.’

‘Shit, are those bodies in there?’ I ask at the distinct shapes within the vehicles and more stacked to the sides.

‘Yeah,’ Clarence replies, ‘burnt with the vehicles.’

‘Christ they’ve killed a lot,’ I say, ‘reminds me of when we went into your compound in London, all the bodies hanging up.’

‘Chris did that as a warning, but they were all those things and already dead, some of these look like normal people.’

‘We can’t tell that from here, they could have bite marks,’ I reply, thinking of last night and the people we killed who had yet to turn.

‘Maybe,’ he says quietly, ‘fuck…’ he exclaims. Another large sign has been fixed to the side of the road. Again this one is hand painted; TURN BACK. YOU WILL BE KILLED IF YOU PROCEED.

The sign is fixed into the ground by two thick posts, bodies have been arranged at the base of the sign. All of them in the sitting position. Men, women and children all sat upright. Their backs either resting against the posts or each other. A rope tied round the sign holds them in place.

Every single one of them has bullet wounds in their heads, execution style shots in the front of the head. The backs of their skulls are mostly missing as the rounds took the back of their heads off.

‘Are they zombies?’ Cookey asks. I understand what he means, it’s impossible to tell from here. They just look like normal dead people.

‘Dave you get up top, I’ll go and look,’ Clarence says.

‘On it,’ Dave replies, he scrabbles up top onto the GPMG, shouting down when he’s ready. Clarence quickly opens the door and drops down, running in a crouch to the bodies.

He stops in front of them, kneeling down to examine the face. His arm reaches out to open an eyelid, then another, he checks several of them before running back.

‘Just people,’ he says after slamming the door, ‘not one of them had red eyes.’

‘Fucking hell,’ Blowers mutters.

‘Couldn’t see any bite marks from what I could see either.’

‘They just been killed then,’ I reply.

‘Looks like it, this place would have been a magnet for anyone living locally.  Big fences, loads of buildings and the sea on one side.’

‘Like our fort,’ I say.

‘Exactly, just much bigger,’ he replies.

The sight of the bodies jars me. Normal people just looking for somewhere safe. I bet they didn’t care about the fuel inside and just wanted to be behind the big fences.

‘We going back?’ Cookey asks.

‘We should,’ I reply, my gaze still fixed on the bodies. A little girl with golden curly hair and wearing a blue dress. Her feet look tiny in matching blue shoes. The people with her must be her parents.

Executed.

Murdered.

I ease the vehicle forward, pushing further down the road. Clarence glances over at me then turns to fix his head facing forward.

We had to kill last night but we killed those that had been bitten. Not innocent people like Debbie said we did.

More bodies have been positioned sat up leaning against the fence. Gruesome and morbid, some with open eyes staring out. Birds and carrion have clearly been attacking some of the corpses. Still we drive on, the inside of the Saxon in silence now. No banter or conversation.

‘SHOTS,’ Dave calls down.

‘Where from?’ Clarence shouts, grabbing his assault rifle.

‘AHEAD.’

We peer forward, scanning the road, the trees and the fence. I hear the lads in the back making ready, checking magazines and pulling their rucksacks on.

We follow the curvature of the road, a long sweeping bend that obstructs our view of ahead. The road straightens out to reveal a white pick-up truck stationary in the middle of the road, maybe two hundred metres away. Armed men stand to the rear of it, pointing their weapons down at a cluster of people kneeling on the road with their hands behind their heads.

On sight of us, several of the men lift their weapons to aim in our direction. A couple keep their guns pointing at the people on the floor. The kneeling people are all in a line, stretched across the road. Two of them are lying down, already shot by the looks of it.

From the size of the people kneeling it’s easy to see two of them are children. Distinctly smaller than the others but still with their hands on their heads.

One of the armed men runs to the truck and pulls a radio out, speaking into it.

‘They've got to be human,’ Clarence says, ‘those things don’t kneel down.’

‘Dave, if they start shooting those people…’

‘I will,’ he cuts me off, his voice calm and deadly as always.

I push on, going slowly towards the truck. The men look worried, looking at each other then at the man holding the radio.

‘They’ll be calling for reinforcements,’ Clarence says. One of the men walks to the line of kneeling people and grabs a woman by her hair, dragging her towards the vehicle. He uses the butt of his rifle to hit the back of her head, forcing her into the rear passenger seats.  The noise of her screams carry clearly to us.

A man moves forward, shuffling on his knees, his arms outstretched as thought begging. An armed guard slams the butt of his gun into the man’s face driving him to the floor.

‘Shit,’ Clarence curses. The armed men seem worried, shouting at each other and pointing at the people on the floor.

‘We've got to do something,’ Lani says quickly.

‘They’ve already killed two of ‘em,’ Nick adds.

‘Mr Howie? I can take them…’ Dave calls down.

More of the kneeling people scream in terror, some of them dropping down and others stretching their arms out. One of them shuffles to get in front of a child and gets two guards slamming their rifle butts into her head, forcing her to the floor.

One of the kneeling men drops to the floor, rolling away to rise quickly to his feet. He starts running towards us, screaming for help with his arms in the air.

A guard lifts his rifle, firing several shots at the running man, the rounds hit him, sending him spinning to the floor.

‘DAVE,’ I shout, the last of the word is cut off as Dave opens up. Taking down the guard who shot the man first. The GPMG gives short bursts as Dave moves from one guard to the other.

The guards react quickly, star bursting away and returning fire. Two of them open up on the line of people, firing at the far end and strafing their weapons across the line before being blown apart by the heavy calibre bullets of our GPMG.

I grab my rifle and jump down, the rifle up and aiming as my feet start striding out to the right, keeping clear of Dave’s arc of fire.

Clarence follows suit, out the vehicle and aiming at the truck. The rear doors burst open as the lads jump down, jogging round the sides and out from the vehicle.

The man on the radio throws it the floor, lifting his gun toward us. I fire several shots at him, sending him crashing into the pick-up truck. Clarence fires at the pick-up’s tyres, blowing them out. More shots ring out from them but they’re panicked and aimed at the vehicle, loud pinging noises ring out as the bullets ricochet of the armour plating. Our rifles fire single shots, picking out targets. The GPMG doing the same, small bursts firing until the guards are all shot down.

‘CLEAR,’ Dave shouts.

‘MOVING IN,’ Clarence responds, ‘COVER.’

‘COVERING,’ Dave shouts back.

We stride in, the rifles still up and aimed towards the truck. The silence doesn't bode well. I speed up, jogging towards the line of bodies.

Clarence and Blowers move past the rest of us, both of them checking the guards and kicking weapons away.

We check the bodies of the people who were kneeling. All of them cut to pieces by the close range shots fired into them. Heads blown apart, skulls and brains blown everywhere. Blood pissing out to pool on the hot road surface.

All of them dead.

‘Fuck it, fuck it,’ Cookey mutters with a hard edge to his voice, ‘too fucking slow, we were too fucking slow.’

‘They all dead?’ Clarence calls out.

‘Yeah,’ I reply.

‘Cunts, utter fucking cunts,’ Nick shouts, ‘fucking wankers…’

Dave jogs over, assault rifle at the ready. He glances along the line of bodies before looking up and away, scanning the sides.

‘CUNTS,’ Nick shouts even louder, his voice cracking with emotion.

‘Be quiet,’ Dave says bluntly, ‘it’s done.’ Nick bites his tongue, his face quickly becoming set as he glares down at the murdered people.

‘Get the weapons into the vehicle,’ I call out.

‘The girl’s in the truck,’ Lani says heading towards the rear doors. She opens the door as the rest of us stare over. ‘She’s here…hey it’s okay, come on it’s okay,’ she starts speaking in a soft tone. Gently pulling the girl from the vehicle.

The woman climbs out, shaking and trembling all over. She screams at the sight of the bodies, breaking free from Lani to run over. She drops down, screaming and sobbing, pawing at the bodies. She moves to one of the children, lifting the torn body up to cradle it.

‘She needs to get in the Saxon before they come,’ Dave says.

‘Lani, you and Cookey get her inside,’ I add. Blowers and Nick move between the guards, collecting the weapons  and checking pockets for magazines.

A groaning noise comes from a guard as Nick rolls the body over to check the pockets, ‘this one’s alive,’ Nick shouts.

I’m there instantly, looking down as the guard comes to, opening his eyes and groaning in agony from the bullet wounds in his stomach.

‘He was the one that shot the people,’ Clarence growls.

‘Can you hear me?’ I ask the guard, he stares back groggily at first, coming more to his senses as he looks up at us. He nods, his face pale and drawn.

‘Why did you kill them?’ I ask him, my voice hoarse and flat.

‘Had to, we’re told to,’ he replies barely above a whisper.

‘Who by?’

‘The bosses, they said no one can come near the place, there’s signs up…’

‘How many people you got in there?’

‘I don’t know,’ he whispers clutching at his stomach, he groans but I notice his eyes look around sharp enough. I step forward, bringing my foot down onto his stomach, applying a small amount of pressure which causes him to scream in agony.

‘How many?’

‘Hundred…about hundred,’ he gasps.

‘One hundred…you got one hundred people in a site that big?’

‘Yeah…’ he nods, desperate to please me and stop the agony.

‘Are they all armed?’ He nods back.

‘What about women?’ Clarence asks. The guard pauses then shakes his head, staring wide eyed.

‘I just did as I was told, they’d kill us otherwise.’

‘He’s lying,’ Clarence growls. ‘One hundred is too easy, and no women? For a hundred armed men…’

‘Your choice,’ I step back and look at Nick glaring down at him. Pure fury etched on his face. Blowers looks the same. Dave stares out, scanning the perimeter. I draw my pistol and aim it at the man’s head. He whimpers, tears coming from his eyes as he begs me not to shoot.

‘Tell me the truth, how many have you got in there?’

‘But…’ he stammers so I shoot him in the leg, sending a round through his thigh. He screams and grabs at the wound, curling into a ball as he sobs.

‘Just under two hundred men, loads of guns we got from the police and a barracks, we got women for cooking and…other things,’ he spits the words out quick enough now. Gasping between words as he writhes in agony.

‘Where did the men come from?’ I ask him.

‘Most worked here, night duty when….when it happened…some ex-army…went out and got the guns…’

‘Why are you sealing it off? This place is huge, you could have thousands in here.’

‘They said we’d get attacked for the fuel…said we had to defend it until help comes…we took a few in…families and shit but…’

‘We need fuel, where do we get it from?’ Clarence asks.

‘You won’t get it…all the trucks are well inside…’

I shoot him in the other leg, just to sharpen his senses a little, ‘okay,’ he screams, please…stop shooting me.’

‘We need fuel, where do we get it from?’ I speak slowly, enunciating each word.

‘You can’t…you fucking can’t get it…’ he groans with the pain, clutching at both his legs, his stomach still bleeding heavily. ‘Everything is inside, you can’t get to it.’

‘Liar,’ Clarence roars, he reaches down with one hand and pulls the man to his feet, ragging him about while screaming in his face, ‘tell me or I swear to god I’ll rip you limb from limb.’

‘You can’t…’ he sobs…’can’t.’ Clarence throws him down to the floor. The man promptly passes out, bleeding heavily from the several bullet holes in his body.

‘He was still fucking lying,’ Clarence spits, ‘two hundred would get lost in there, got to be loads more than that.’

‘We should go,’ I say quietly.

‘Go? I ain’t going nowhere,’ Clarence replies, ‘these fuckers are killing innocent people…’

‘We came for fuel.’

‘Boss, we can’t just leave them here, they’ll kill anyone that comes near it…that isn’t right.’

‘Clarence we can’t go round the fucking country saving everyone, we got our own problems to deal with and don’t forget why we’re here…for Meredith.’

‘I can get in,’ Dave cuts in, ‘I can get in and take them out, then open the gates for you.’

‘Two hundred armed men? Maybe more if Clarence was right.’ I ask him. He shrugs nonchalantly, ‘yes.’

‘No…no we’re going back, we’ve got to get fuel for Meredith, that’s our top priority.’

‘Mr Howie, they just shot children in front of us…we can’t just go,’ Nick cuts in.

‘And we killed them, they’re all dead….this is isn’t our fight, we can’t risk our lives like that when we’ve got to get fuel so they can test…’

‘Dave can go in here, we wait then hit the front hard. We’ve got the Saxon which is armour plated,’ Clarence continues with a determined look on his face.

I look at them, Clarence, Nick and Blowers. All three staring at me with hard looks and desperate to do something. I’ve got the same feeling in me, that this isn’t right and we should take action but if we get killed…

‘Mr Howie,’ Lani calls out as she walks from the Saxon, ‘she’s already been raped, the other women too. They did that then lined them up to shoot them.’

‘Cunts,’ Nick growls again.

‘Give me a smoke mate,’ I say to Nick. He takes one out and hands it over, passing one to Blowers. ‘Dave?’

‘Yes Mr Howie?’ He replies, still scanning the perimeter.

‘We’ll go for the front and draw their fire, I don’t want you going in but you can take the sniper rifle and pick them off if that’s any good.’

‘Okay, we need to see the ground by the entrance, we should go now if we’re going.’

‘We’re going,’ I say, the lads nod at me with grim faces.

We load back into the Saxon, the girl sitting in the corner of the bench seat with her knees drawn up to her chest sobbing quietly.

Dave takes the canvas bag holding the sniper rifle and takes it out, Nick moves to the GPMG but gets told to sit down by Clarence who squeezes himself up.

‘Go in hard boss,’ he shouts down.

‘Ready?’

‘Yes Mr Howie,’ Dave replies. I push my foot down, easing the vehicle forward and round the pick-up truck. Gathering speed we steam down the road, the high fence on one side and the tree line on the other.

The entrance is surprisingly close with a long straight road heading towards a high wire fence topped with the same razor wire. A concrete flat roofed building separates the two lanes, one for going in and one for going out. Vehicles have been put in nose to tail across the front of the fence, making a solid defensive wall.

Figures move about by the concrete building, and I can see more running about behind the fence. Clarence opens up immediately, strafing the concrete building with short bursts and aiming along the fence line. Shots get fired back at us, striking the metal outside with loud pings.

The image of those people kneeling and begging for their lives, just to be shot like animals is strong in my mind. Children with heads blown apart. The worst threat humanity has ever known with a real and present danger of our species being wiped out and we still do shit like that.

They could have secured this place with the armed men and allowed entrance to thousands. Rationed the supply of fuel and used it as a starting place for humanity to fight back.

Greed and power. Murdering people to keep what they’ve got. Not even people that pose a threat but innocent families just trying to find a safe place. Clarence is right, we can’t walk away from this. It’s got fuck all to do with us, but at the same time, it has everything to do with us. No police are going to come to the rescue, no armies or diplomats anymore. If we turn away it makes us as guilty as them. We’ve got firepower, equipment and experience now. This is our fight. We’ve made it our fight.

‘HERE,’ Dave shouts, I slow the vehicle down, keeping face on to give Clarence the best position to fire. ‘COVER ME,’ Dave adds as he gets to the rear doors.

‘THE DOORS ARE AMOURED, USE THEM,’ Clarence shouts between a brief pause of firing. I grab my assault rifle, making it ready before opening my door. Angling myself on the step I aim over the door, firing at the figures running about. Blowers climbs to the front, opening the passenger door and doing the same.

Noise everywhere, a huge deafening roar of small arms fire and the solid bass drumming of the machine gun thudding out over our heads. Dave slips off to the side, running low he disappears into the tree line.

Small bits of earth exploding show where the shots were aimed at his route. A round hits my door, slamming it into my body and causing me to slip from the vehicle and land on the floor.

‘COOKEY COVER MR HOWIE,’ Blowers screams as he opens up. Cookey throws himself over the seats, leaning out of the door as I scrabble backwards. Tarmac and concrete exploding round me as the rounds strike closer. I run back to the rear of the vehicle, taking cover as the lads return fire.

A different sound comes from the tree line, a sharp crack different to the GMPG and the assault rifles. Another one, then another. I climb into the vehicle, making my way past the girl to the front. Looking through the windscreen I see men dropping down as each distinct crack sounds out.

‘I FUCKING LOVE DAVE,’ Cookey bellows. Another crack followed a split second by a body falling down. Dave picks them off, one by one as Clarence strafes back and forth. The heavy calibre rounds taking big chunks from the concrete guard building.

‘THEY’RE TAKING COVER,’ Clarence shouts. The tree line comes alive as the guards inside the compound concentrate their fire on the sniper. Leaves, branches and tree bark splintering.

‘Nick get the loudspeaker going,’ I call down to him.

‘MAGAZINE,’ Clarence bellows, ‘NEED COVER.’

‘IT’S READY,’ Nick shouts handing me the handset.

‘COVER CLARENCE,’ I shout out, Nick, Lani and I get out the rear, leaning round the back of the Saxon and firing into the fence and guard building. The men inside don’t show themselves now, taking cover to take pot shots back at us.

We fire steadily, aiming across the width until Clarence shouts he’s finished. Back inside the vehicle I get to the front and grab the handset for the loudspeaker.

‘Ceasefire,’ I call out, Clarence drops down as Blowers and Cookey pull themselves back into the vehicle.

‘GIVE IT UP,’ my amplified voice booms into the air, ‘WE’LL TEAR YOU APART, GIVE IT UP NOW…WE’VE GOT HEAVY WEAPONS AND TRAINED MEN…GIVE UP NOW AND YOU WON’T BE HARMED.’

They cease firing from their end, a silence falls as we wait for a reaction. The lads making use of the time to check their weapons, change magazines and get water.

‘WHO ARE YOU?’  An amplified voice comes back to us, someone using a handheld megaphone.

‘WE CAME FOR FUEL…WE SAW YOUR MEN KILLING INNOCENT PEOPLE ON THE ROAD…’

‘I SAID WHO ARE YOU?’ The voice comes back with an angry tone that cuts off with a gargled yell as a sharp crack sounds out from Dave shooting the speaker.

‘I SUGGEST YOU GIVE UP…WE’VE GOT ALL FUCKING DAY. Lads, get ready to fire again if they fuck about.’ Cookey and Blowers position themselves to lean out, Clarence holds ready to go up on the GPMG. Lani and Nick wait at the rear doors.

‘DON’T SHOOT,’ another voice comes over, ‘PLEASE DON’T SHOOT,’ this voice sounds less aggressive, with a pleading tone.

‘OKAY, CEASE FIRE…’ I add for Dave’s benefit, ‘GIVE UP NOW, WEAPONS DOWN AND ARMS UP…OPEN THE GATES.’

‘YOU’LL KILL US,’ the voice shouts back.

‘WE SHOULD FUCKING KILL YOU BUT WE WON’T IF YOU DO AS YOU'RE TOLD, WEAPONS DOWN, ARMS UP AND COME OUT SLOWLY.’

‘WE CAN GIVE YOU FUEL.’

‘WE’LL TAKE THE FUEL AND KILL EVERYONE IF YOU DON’T GIVE UP NOW.’

‘LISTEN, WE’LL GIVE YOU FUEL…YOU WANT FUEL WE CAN SEND A TANKER OUT FOR YOU.’

‘I SAID GIVE UP…’

‘WE’RE NEGOTIATING…’ The voice almost pleads, ‘YOU CAME FOR FUEL SO WE CAN GIVE YOU FUEL, AS MUCH AS YOU WANT.’

‘DAVE,’ I say the single word, a sharp crack then silence. I imagine the speakers head being taken off and the megaphone falling to the floor.

‘WE’RE NOT HERE TO NEGOTIATE, ANYONE ELSE TRIES IT AND WE OPEN UP AGAIN, I’LL SAY IT ONE LAST TIME…WEAPONS DOWN, ARMS UP AND COME OUT SLOWLY…YOU HAVE THIRTY SECONDS.’

Shit. I just ordered the execution of a person. The ease of it shocks me. Just saying one word and a man dies, shot by a sniper rifle. He could have been a decent person, a normal man caught up in this mess and trying to survive like everyone else. Then I think of the real survivors that were kneeling down on the hot road, thirsty and frightened after watching their women being raped.

A shot rings out, instantly followed by a pinging noise and Clarence cursing as the shot just misses him. He opens up, thudding the GPMG across the front of the entrance. Firing into the rows of vehicles and then at the concrete building.

‘GET CLOSER,’ Clarence bellows.

Cookey climbs back into the rear, giving me space to get into the driver’s seat and move the Saxon closer to the entrance. The line of fire from Clarence becomes concentrated as he aims at certain parts, getting a better view as I drive slowly forward. The sharp crack of the sniper rifle and men inside falling down or going off spinning as they’re taken down.

The GPMG ceases for a second as Clarence yells for me to stop. He pauses then fires again at movement beyond the fence.

‘Ram the gate boss,’ he calls down.

‘Everyone in and close the doors,’ I yell out. Blowers ducks inside and slams the passenger door closed. Twisting round I see the rear doors being pulled shut by Nick and Lani.

‘Ready?’ I yell out.

‘Go,’ Clarence shouts. I push my foot down, aiming at the left side guessing that would be the lane in.

The powerful engine roars to life as the vehicle surges forward, gaining speed we brace as the solid metal front of the vehicle impacts with the high fence panel. The vehicle just takes the impact and keeps going, ripping the gate off its fittings as we power through. The GPMG starts up again, firing across the inside of the compound.

Bodies already litter the ground, loads of them with guns and rifles lying next to their outstretched hands. The sheer fire power of the general purpose machine gun has obliterated the inside, peppering walls and ripping men apart.

More men are running about, frantically trying to find cover. Clarence fires for a few more seconds while we watch from the inside of the vehicle as the guards get shot to bits.

‘Ceasefire,’ I yell out as the men in the compound start throwing their guns down and holding their hands in the air. The machine gun ends abruptly and we hear the sniper rifle fire at men still holding weapons. Heads explode as skulls are blown apart by the high velocity rounds sent by Dave.

‘CEASEFIRE, PUT YOUR WEAPONS DOWN,’ I shout through the loudspeaker. More of the men throw guns down and stand with their arms stretched up. Dave, thankfully, stops shooting them and lets them surrender and for one awful minute I did think he might just carry on.

From the inside I see a wide road leading off into the refinery, a large open area on one side, marked on the road as Tanker Parking. No tankers here, just empty space with a few vehicles parked up.

The men stand clustered together, glancing between us and the downed bodies scattered about.

‘Clarence give me cover,’ I call up.

‘Got it, just don’t get in the line of fire,’ he shouts back. I open the door and jump down, pushing the door closed behind me. Moving towards the men I keep my assault rifle up and aimed. They all look clean and well-fed, apart from most of them having stubbles or beards than normal.

‘Where are the tankers?’ I call out, still thinking of the main objective to get the fuel.

Shots sound out from further down the road, followed by the sound of a vehicle accelerating towards us. Clarence swivels the gun and opens up, firing at whatever’s coming our way.

The men take the opportunity to burst apart, running for the guns lying scattered about. I open up, firing into the men. The doors of the Saxon open up as the others jump down, firing into the men as they run to grab weapons. Dave takes several out, getting head shots as skulls explode with a spray of pink mist.

We cut the men down, leaving just two who drop to their knees begging not to be shot. Dave takes one of them out, his head exploding in a puff.

The GPMG still firing down the road, I turn round to see another pick-up truck being shot to bits, the rounds of the machine gun shredding the thing apart. Bodies lay scattered about it as the men must have jumped off to start shooting and were cut down. Clarence stops shooting , holding his aim down the service road.

Aiming my rifle at the single man left alive I walk towards him, ‘Where are the tankers?’

‘Down there,’ he wails, nodding his head towards the road.

‘How far?’

‘About half a mile.’

‘How many people you got here?’

‘I don’t know,’ he stammers, tears running down his face.

‘Yes you do, you do fucking know, lie again and I’ll fucking kill you…’

‘Hundreds…we got hundreds…’

‘Where did they come from?’

‘Most work here, some came in from the estate when it happened…please…I got a wife and kids.’

‘Shut up, what estate?’

‘The housing estate south of the refinery…it’s where most of the workers lived…I live there with my wife and children…I got two daughters, please…’

‘Who killed all the people on road? Who put the bodies so they’re sat up?’

‘We got some ex-army guys here, they said everyone will come and try and take the site…they said we had enough here now like and we couldn’t take no more in…they said it was like the most important fuel depot in the country and we had to defend it….’ He gabbles on, speaking quickly between ragged breaths, ‘they said we had to keep the bodies there to put them off coming here….they come every-day, loads of them like…’

‘So you keep killing them?’

‘We had to, didn’t have no choice like, some said they wouldn’t do it and got beat up like, they said we’re in it together and we had to do it or they’d be kicked out,’ he calms down slightly, just enough for his northern accent to become more apparent.

‘That included raping them as well did it?’

‘I didn’t know nothing about no rape like…I didn’t…I’m married with two kids I ain’t raped no one.’

‘Where did all the guns come from?’

‘The ex-army guys, couple of ‘em were in the territorials and went to their base, they got police guns too from the stations.’

‘They got more guns inside then?’

He nods, his face deathly white with fear.

‘How many?’

‘Loads,’ he replies.

‘Get these weapons into the Saxon,’ I say to the others. They move quickly, running between the bodies and scooping them up, running them to the back doors of the Saxon.

‘We need fuel,’ I say to the man, ‘and you are going to help us get some.’

‘Me? I can’t….they’ll kill me…’

‘We’ll kill you if you don’t,’ I cut him off, ‘your choice and try anything I’ll shoot your fucking cock off and leave you to bleed out.’

‘Someone call for Dave to come down.’

Cookey grabs the loudspeaker, relaying the order. The weapons get collected and put into the vehicle, the lads finishing just as Dave jogs easily through the destroyed gate with the sniper held ready.

‘You alright mate?’

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

‘Good shooting mate.’

‘Thanks Mr Howie.’

‘And the one who surrendered…’

‘Oh him…I thought he had a gun.’

‘Did you bollocks,’ I smile at him. He walks over to the body and rolls it over so its face down. He bends over and pulls a pistol from the dead man’s waistband.

‘How the fuck did you see that?’ I ask him in shock.

‘Through the scope,’ he replies seriously, nodding at the scope on the sniper rifle.

‘Yeah I know that…I meant how did you see it from that distance?’

‘Er…through the scope,’ he replies again.

‘Yeah…forget it, this bloke said they got loads of guns in there, some of them are ex-army or in the territorials and went to their local base…’

‘Oh,’ Dave says.

‘Yeah oh….but, he’s going to help us get to the tankers.’

‘How far away are they?’

‘He says about half a mile.’

‘Oh…okay…do you want me to go and get one?’

He would too. He’d walk there with a bread knife and kill the hundreds of people without breaking a sweat.

‘How you going to bring it back?’ I ask him.

‘Bring what back?’

‘The tanker? How you going to bring it back, you don’t drive.’

‘I’ll get one of them to drive it,’ he shrugs, ‘no big deal.’ He looks at the man kneeling down, ‘have you got heavy weapons in there?’

‘I don’t know,’ he stutters, ‘what are heavy weapons?’

‘Like that one up there,’ Dave points to the GPMG on top of the Saxon.

‘Yeah,’ the man nods, ‘just the one like.’

‘Can you drive the tankers?’ I ask him.

‘No,’ he shakes his head, ‘not me…I just worked in the maintenance department like.’

‘Fuck it, we need the fuel…let’s go now…you’re leading the way,’ I point at him, ‘get up.’

I push the man towards the Saxon, Dave makes him wait while he gets a small length of rope from the vehicle and binds the man’s hands behind his back. Once tied he gets pushed inside and made to stand behind the seats, Blowers and Nick flanking him.

‘Cunt,’ Nick growls at him, ‘you’re a nasty fucking cunt.’

‘Rapist fucking wanker,’ Blowers adds, they both glare at him with hard faces.

‘I didn’t do no raping,’ the man whimpers.

‘Straight down there?’ I ask after getting into the driver’s seat.

‘Aye, straight down that road.’

‘If you tell the truth and help us I promise we’ll let you go, if you lie or do anything stupid you will die…do you understand?’

‘He’s nodding Mr Howie,’ Nick says.

‘Right…here we go.’ The Saxon starts towards the road, I push it quite quickly, intent on making ground before they get time to organise themselves.

‘Keep going,’ the man calls out.

Clarence and Dave quickly swap over, Clarence squeezes his big frame over the seats to get into the passenger side, getting his assault rifle and staring out the front.

‘Next right,’ the man shouts. The road were on is marked as C Avenue, with the sides streets having numbers, like the American grid layout. We pass 12th street then 11th.

‘What street do we need?’

‘Eh?’ The man replies.

‘He’s fucking lying,’ I shout, ‘he should know the layout exactly.’

‘You cunt,’ Blowers punches him in the back of the head, knocking him forward, ‘what fucking road?’

‘Stop…it’s on D Avenue…’

‘Why are we going down C Avenue then?’

‘You fucker,’ Nick shouts as both he and Blowers reign blows down on the man.

‘CONTACT,’ Dave roars. A barricade across the road blocks out progress.  A row of vehicle parked end on end with men stood the other side pointing guns at us. They open up first, the muzzle flashes distinct with the sounds of assault rifles. Dave is a split second behind them, firing the GPMG with deadly accuracy. Several men get instantly blown backwards, not realising our aim from this distance would be so good.

‘Where are the tankers?’ Blowers shouts at the man.

‘D Avenue…I swear it like…I swear,’ his voice sounds hoarse and gargled as he spits blood out from his bleeding mouth, ‘fuck…oh fuck…’ the change in his tone makes me turn round. Lani is stood behind him, holding one of her knives against his throat while pulling his hair back.

‘D Avenue…’ He whispers, his voice almost drowned out by the GPMG.

‘Which way?’ Lani shouts.

‘Take a left…go left.’

I twist the wheel, coming off the power and letting the weight of the vehicle slow it enough to take the corner. Dave must turn with the vehicle as the fire continues to be directed straight into the hastily formed barricade.

We enter into 10th street, the last left turn before the barricade. Only a short street with big high chimney stacks soaring into the sky and a complex network of tubes and pipes running everywhere.

‘Which way now?’ I shout.

‘Right…you gotta go right.’

I bring the Saxon to a halt, craning my head down to the right and the vehicles being pushed into position as more men run into the area.

‘The tanker yard is past them….you gotta get past them,’ he yelps as Lani digs the knife into his neck.

‘Dave…we’re going through…’

‘Roger that Mr Howie,’ Dave shouts back. I turn the wheel and push my foot down hard as the engine builds to a huge roar.

Shots ring off the outside of the vehicle as we draw closer to the vehicles. Dave opens up, firing into them and killing men as they run about.

‘Brace,’ I shout a warning, which unfortunately is too late. The vehicle jolts as it impacts the first vehicle, shunting it out the way. From behind me I hear muted curses and a funny gargling sound.

‘What’s that?’ I call out.

‘Lani just cut his head off,’ Nick shouts.

‘You shouted too late, I had the knife at his throat?’

‘Is he dead?’ I ask, which I realise is a stupid question.

‘He has no head Mr Howie,’ Cookey says with as much tact as a house brick.

‘Oh fuck…any ideas?’ I shout to Clarence.

‘Nope, just keep going,’ he says twisting back round to face front, ‘she actually cut his head off,’ he adds.

‘Really? His actual head?’

‘Yeah…clean off…don’t ever cheat on her for fucks sake.’

‘Jesus…what a woman….is it too early to propose?’

‘What did he say?’ Lani shouts as Clarence bursts out laughing.

‘The boss asked if you’ll marry him,’ he shouts.

‘If he gets us out of this bloody mess I’ll have his babies,’ she shouts to hoots of laughter from the other lads. I shake my head, the visual image of that blokes head rolling about the floor while we talk about marriage and babies. I should be on happy pills.

‘Er…can anyone see a tanker?’ I shout as we trundle down D Avenue, the outside of the Saxon ringing like a giant xylophone from the shots being taken at us.

‘Why’s Dave firing like that?’ Cookey shouts, his voice gets cut off by the girl at the back screaming in blind panic, ‘oh shit…sorry love,’ Cookey shouts.

‘She alright?’ Clarence shouts, twisting round.

‘What happened?’ I ask.

‘Oh…that head just rolled into her foot,’ he says losing interest and turning back.

‘Dave why are you firing like that?’ Nick shouts up.

‘So I don’t blow the place up,’ he shouts down.

‘Oh fuck,’ I exclaim suddenly realising we’re in the middle of a giant fuel refinery.

‘Shit…oh shit…he’s gonna blow it up…I know he will,’ Cookey yells.

‘He won’t,’ I yell back, turning into another side street.

‘He did one before didn’t he?’ Cookey asks.

‘It was seen from space Cookey,’ Clarence grins at him evilly.

‘Oh shit,’ the lad replies with a whimper.

‘We’re being chased,’ Dave shouts.

‘Where’s the fucking wing mirrors?’ Clarence shouts.

‘We fucking lost them ages ago mate,’ I reply.

‘Fire out the back doors, we’ve got contact to the front too,’ Dave roars out.

The lads get to the back doors, pushing them open and firing their assault rifles almost instantly.

‘What is it?’ I ask Clarence as he twists round.

‘Another pick-up with blokes on the back,’ he replies.

‘How many fucking pick-up trucks have they got?’

‘I don’t know…but one less now,’ Clarence adds as the Lads and Lani cheer. A loud crash sounds out behind us which I guess must be from the pick-up truck smashing into something. Hopefully the something isn’t a flammable something.

‘There,’ Clarence points down the road to a wide open space with a row of white fuel tankers parked up, all of them marked with the refinery logo.

More shots ping off the Saxon, the shooters hidden from sight. Dave returns fire, taking care not to hit anything that looks like it could blow up.

‘How the fuck we gonna do this? You’ll get cut to bits if you go…’

‘We’ll have to go round again,’ Clarence cuts me off.

We drive quickly past the fleet of tankers, both of us looking at them longingly and hoping no one tries to shoot them. I take the next right, powering up the short side street, more people go running off, diving behind cover as we go flying past them.

I keep going up the long straight avenue, ignoring the first right turn to buy us time.

‘Get on the loudspeaker…tell them we’ll the blow it up if they keep firing at us.’

‘I don’t think it’ll work,’ Clarence replies, he takes the mouthpiece and shouts into it, ‘CEASEFIRE NOW OR WE’LL BLOW THE REFINERY….CEASEFIRE NOW OR WE’LL BLOW THE REFINERY…’

‘Dave stop shooting for a minute,’ I shout out, he instantly stops, dropping down to get cover while we keep taking right turns and driving in a big circle.

Clarence keeps repeating the same message, his deep tones amplified as I take the numbered side streets and cross the avenues.

‘Clarence wait,’ Dave says, he leans towards the hole of the GPMG listening intently, ‘they’re shouting to each other,’ he relays.

‘LEAVE NOW OR WE’LL KILL YOU ALL,’ an amplified voice booms out from several points, must be a safety tannoy system.

‘STOP SHOOTING US OR WE’LL BLOW YOUR REFINERY UP,’ Clarence replies with his own amplified voice.

‘YOU CAN’T BLOW IT UP…’

‘WE CAN BLOODY TRY…DO YOU WANNA SEE IT? Dave…give something a blast,’ he adds quietly.

Dave scrabbles back up and starts firing indiscriminately as Cookey drops down to cover his head, whimpering loudly.

Dave finishes and quickly drops back down as I realise I’m holding my breath and waiting for the boom.

‘WE CAN DO THAT AGAIN,’ Clarence says.

‘DON’T BE SO STUPID…YOU’LL GET BLOWN UP TOO.’

‘THEN LET US HAVE TWO TANKERS OF FUEL…’

‘IS THAT ALL YOU WANT?’ The voice comes back with an incredulous tone.

‘YES,’ Clarence replies.

‘YOU BUST IN HERE AND KILL EVERYONE FOR TWO FUCKING TANKERS?’

‘PRETTY MUCH…OH AND THE BODIES YOU LEFT OUTSIDE TOO…YOU KNOW…THE BODIES OF THE WOMEN AND CHILDREN…’

Silence comes back for a second as I imagine frantic conversation taking place between whoever is holding the microphone and the people around him.

‘OKAY…CEASEFIRE ALL ROUND…TAKE TWO TANKERS AND LEAVE…’

‘ARE THEY ALL FULL?’

‘YES.’

‘WHAT ABOUT KEYS?’

‘WE’LL BRING THEM TO YOU.’

‘DON’T FUCK ABOUT OR WE’LL BLOW EVERYONE UP…OH AND WE GOT ONE OF YOUR BLOKES HEADS IN HERE, DO YOU WANT IT BACK?’

The lads snigger as Clarence grins, ‘nice touch,’ I add quietly.

‘YOU CAN KEEP THE HEAD,’ the voice comes back.

‘Nice of him,’ Nick says quickly.

We drive in silence, not one shot exchanged from the people holding assault rifles and police issue black coloured guns.

‘Fuck…I can’t remember which way it is now,’ I say at the end of a numbered side street.

‘Right,’ Clarence says at the same time as Blowers says ‘Left’.

‘Bollocks..’ I take the right, heading down an avenue surrounded by big dirty while silos built into the square segments of land with raised banks of earth round each one. Chimneys, pipes, tubes, weird looking machines are everywhere giving the place a surreal futuristic industrial look.

‘YOU’RE GOING THE WRONG WAY,’ the voice booms out.

‘Sorry boss,’ Clarence grimaces.

‘Now we just look bloody stupid,’ I retort.

‘What like we don’t already? Charging several hundred armed men for a tanker of fuel that we could have got at the docks…not to mention Lani cutting all their heads off,’ he replies.

‘One head…I cut one head off,’ Lani says pointedly.

‘I said we should go for the docks,’ I say with a shake of my head. I turn the vehicle round in the entrance to another side street, having to shunt forward and back several times while being stared at by several grim faced armed guards.

‘No pressure then,’ I mutter under my breath then swear loudly as the front of the Saxon scrapes along a wall with a screech of metal and a round of ‘ooohhh’s’ coming from the back. Some of the armed men outside shake their heads which just makes me go red in the face.

‘Fuckers….fucking fuckers…fucking fuck fuckers…’ I mutter angrily to myself as I get the Saxon back onto the avenue and facing the right way.

‘WELL DONE,’ the voice says with a distinctively sarcastic tone.

‘Cheeky fucker,’ I shake my head again and become aware of the silence in the vehicle, ‘don’t you lot bloody start.’

‘Soooo, it’s er….very warm again today,’ Cookey says innocently.

‘Yeah definitely another hot one,’ Nick replies in the same slow tone.

‘Better than rain though,’ Lani adds.

‘I think we could do with a drop of rain,’ Blowers joins in.

‘Yeah alright you lot can piss off,’ I call out with a grin.

‘There, just down there,’ Clarence points ahead as we come into view of the row of tankers.

I look over at the big man and realise what he asked for, ‘you said we wanted two tankers…who is going to drive the other one?’

‘You can drive it,’ he replies.

‘Me? Haven’t they got loads of gears or something?’

‘It’s easy enough, one of the lads can drive this back.’

‘I’ll have a go,’ Nick offers quickly, ‘I always wanted to a drive a big lorry.’

‘Nick driving a mobile bomb…is that wise?’ Cookey asks.

‘You ever driven one before?’ Clarence turns to look at him.

‘No but I’ll have a go.’

‘You fancy it then mate?’ I ask.

‘Yeah definitely,’ he excitedly replies

‘Fair enough,’ Clarence says.

We slow down, crawling the last few metres to scan the area. Coming to a stop we wait as armed guards walk into the area, standing at a distance but making their presence known.

‘I don’t like it,’ Clarence mutters.

‘Me too,’ Dave adds, ‘they shouldn’t be stood there.’

‘PULL YOUR MEN BACK,’ Clarence speaks through the loudspeaker.

‘THEY WON’T DO ANYTHING,’ the voice replies after a pause of a few seconds.

‘THEN PULL THEM BACK,’ Clarence repeats.

Another pause and the men all drop their heads as though listening to something then start pulling back.

‘They must have radios,’ Blowers says.

‘Fucking hell Blowers…you’re quick,’ Cookey mutters.

‘A MAN WILL APPROACH NOW…HE’S GOT THE KEYS.’

We watch as a man dressed in black combat trousers and a khaki top walks into view, he makes a point of bending down to place his assault rifle on the ground then standing up and turning round to show he’s unarmed. He walks towards us with his hands away from his body.

‘Right, come on then,’ I start opening the driver’s door.

‘I thought Nick was driving the other one,’ Clarence asks.

‘He is but we got to get the keys first, I’ll come for that…Nick you hang on here a minute.’

‘I’ll come,’ Dave starts towards the rear doors.

‘No mate, stay here and get ready to use the GPMG if it goes bent.’

Clarence and I clamber down, wincing from the heat and bright sun beaming down. The area feels hot and arid with no natural plants or foliage but just industrial equipment, tarmac and hard baked earth. The sun glints blindingly from the metal tubes and pipes and I have to use my hand to shield my eyes, putting us at an instant disadvantage.

‘Can’t see a fucking thing,’ Clarence growls. I stare down at the ground, trying to let my eyes adjust to the glare.

‘Quick move in,’ someone shouts, I glance up to see silhouettes of figures running towards us.

‘TRAP,’ Dave roars from inside the Saxon.

A heavy weight crashes into me as shots are fired, I recognise the sound of rounds pinging off the metal armour of our vehicle. Huge hands grab and pull me along as Clarence shouts for me to move. Getting to my feet I follow after him, both of us staring at the ground and half squinting as we duck down a narrow alley running between a mass of pipes.

‘Get down,’ he mutters, we pause in the shade blinking and rubbing our eyes as we draw our pistols, both of us having left our rifles in the vehicle.

Shots fire from all around, the metal ricochets coming from all directions as they focus their fire onto the Saxon. The GPMG opens up with a thudding boom as Dave returns fire.

‘We can’t get back to the Saxon,’ I say hoarsely, ‘we’ll be cut to bits…shit,’ I fire my pistol at the figure appearing at the end of the alley. The figure spins back from the rounds striking his chest, his assault rifle clattering to the floor.

‘Nice shot,’ Clarence says as he crabs along to grab the fallen man’s gun. He checks the magazine and takes spare ones from the man’s pockets, shoving them into his own before easing his way towards the end of the alley.

I watch my end, the pistol raised and held with two hands like Dave showed me. Rounds strike all around, bouncing off the pipes and the ground at the alley entrance.

‘DON’T SHOOT THE FUCKING PIPES,’ the amplified voice booms out. The shots coming our way instantly ease up as the order is obeyed, buying us some time. The firing at the Saxon just intensifies as they direct their aim that way instead. The GPMG keeps firing in bursts, loud screams and shouts of agony sound out as Dave hits target after target.

‘THE TWO BETWEEN THE PIPES…YOU ARE TRAPPED…PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS NOW.’

‘You think he means us?’ I ask sarcastically.

‘Reckon he does boss,’ Clarence replies, he fires quickly, yelling in triumph, ‘got one.’

‘They won’t shoot us in here,’ I call out.

‘Yeah but we can’t get out either,’ he replies.

‘Stalemate…’ I cock my head listening to the Saxon engine grow louder. I try to peer out the end but have to quickly duck back in from the rounds hitting the ground inches away.

‘STAY THERE MR HOWIE,’ Nick’s voice comes over our loudspeaker.

‘Incoming,’ Clarence calls out, he fires the assault rifle he took from the man, using short controlled bursts.

‘Mr HOWIE…THEY’RE RUNNING TOWARDS YOU,’ Nick shouts a warning. I keep the pistol aimed at the end of the alley, waiting to press the trigger at anything that appears.

‘THEY’RE JUST AT THE END, TWO OF THEM…’ Nick relays.

‘Fucking cunt needs to shut up,’ one of the men shouts from round the corner of the alley.

‘You coming in or what?’ I shout out.

‘You impatient then?’

‘Yeah…’ I lie down on the floor, lifting my aim to where I think their chest height will be.

‘NOW,’ Nick shouts as one of the men jumps out and opens fire into the alley. I fire the pistol, striking him in the legs first then re-adjusting to get him in the chest. He staggers back from the force of the bullets, dropping down to sprawl out on the ground.

‘ONE LEFT,’ Nick shouts.

‘Come on then fuckwit,’ I shout.

‘Fuck this,’ I hear him mutter.

‘HE’S RUN OFF…’ Nick relays.

I twist round to see Clarence still taking single put shots at his end, crabbing down I head towards the body hoping to get the assault rifle he was holding but the body is lying out of reach.

‘GET READY,’ Nick shouts, I stare out wondering what they’re doing. The Saxon reverses to the alley, leaving enough room for the rear doors to swing open, Cookey, Lani and Blowers kneeling inside and waving me towards them.

‘Clarence,’ I shout. He turns round, grinning like a maniac.

‘Cover me,’ he shouts as he starts running bent over, Blowers stands up, aiming over Clarence towards the end of the alley. I run and dive into the back as Blowers fires.

Clarence dives in, landing on top of me as the three of them pull us in and close the doors.

‘They’re in,’ Lani shouts. Nick pulls away as Dave drops back down.

‘You okay Mr Howie?’ He asks with concern.

‘Fine mate,’ I reply with a gasp from having Clarence’s bulk land on top of me.

‘Yeah I’m fine too Dave,’ Clarence mutters.

‘Er…what’s the plan?’ Nick shouts.

‘Well it appears they don’t want us to have a tanker of fuel,’ I reply getting to my feet, ‘give me that microphone,’ I climb over the seat and grab the handset, ‘WHAT’S THE MOST EXPLOSIVE THING IN HERE? THE PIPES? THE SILO’S?...OR SHALL WE JUST GO FOR THE TANKERS…’

‘CEASEFIRE,’ the voice orders, ‘CEASEFIRE NOW…’

‘Mr Howie is that a GPMG?’ Nick points ahead to a small group of men running into view with what looks like a heavy calibre machine gun on a tripod.

‘Yep…Dave…’ I shout in alarm, he’s already getting up the hole and grabbing our own heavy weapon.

‘Get down,’ I pull Nick down as the other weapon opens up, the front of the vehicle being hit by sustained firing.

Dave opens up, slamming rounds at the other group and shredding them to pieces within seconds. He keeps firing, aiming at the gun as it skittles and bounces across the ground.

‘Who’s up for the docks?’ I shout as Dave drops back down.

‘Sounds good to me boss,’ Clarence replies, ‘I bloody said we should try there first.’

‘Nick…time for us to go mate,’ he pushes his foot down, moving the Saxon along as we go past the coveted fuel tanker trucks. Dave goes back up again, resuming his short burst firing as Nick navigates his way back onto the main avenue. Bodies lie everywhere, torn to pieces from our firing.

It seems every gun they possess is trained on us as the Saxon takes a battering from the small arms fire.

‘Why haven’t our tyres blown out yet?’ Cookey asks.

‘Run flat…they’re not normal tyres,’ Clarence shouts over the symphony of bangs and dings that come from all around us.

Dave fires ahead of us, cutting the armed guards down as they lean out to fire at us, time and again he gets direct hits and we keep seeing the mini explosions of blood and pink matter puffing into the air as the rounds strike home.

Nick takes us straight down the avenue, heading back towards the entrance we came in from as another pick-up truck powers out from one of the side streets aiming straight at us. Nick floors the Saxon, the engine screaming out as the Pick-up rams into the driver’s side with an almighty shunt that skewers the back end of the Saxon round. Dave was firing off to the side, only seeing the pick-up at the last second. His rounds miss the target, striking a thick pipe which causes high pressure liquid to start spraying out.

Nick brakes hard and controls the Saxon well, bringing the speed down while avoiding hitting anything. We come to a stop, all of us staring out the window at the liquid spraying from the pipe. The hole it comes from seems to get bigger, forced wider from the pressure of the liquid inside. It sprays high into the air, a thick black liquid that coats everything in sight.

‘Nick….get going mate…quick…get fucking going…’ I mutter quietly. The guards haven’t seen the damaged pipe and keep firing at us. Some of the bullets creating little sparks as they impact on the armoured panels. Nick eases the vehicle round to face the correct way, the action seeming to be so incredibly slow.

Everything slows as we all twist our necks to stare out at the liquid spurting into the air. Nick floors the accelerator, the engine roaring as we start moving away.

‘CEASEFIRE….STOP FIRING NOW….’ The amplified voice screams with urgency, repeating the words over and over.

I’m not exactly sure what happened next. It could have been a spark from a bullet hitting the side of our vehicle that ignited the fumes from the liquid, or it could have been a badly aimed shot fired directly at it, or it could have simply been the super-charged heat of the air creating the exact right mix of heat and gasses that caused the liquid to combust.

What I am sure of is that the liquid did start to combust. It flared slowly, a thin blue flame that danced clearly along the floor. For a couple of seconds I thought it might go out. But it didn’t. The thin blue flame spread and made other thin blue flames. Those few flames caused more flames and within a couple more seconds the ground around the split pipe was on fire.

Then the spray caught which was an amazing thing to see. One second a dark distinct spray of viscous liquid, then within an instant it was alive with scorching hot flames licking at the air.

We power away, gaining distance with every passing second. The flame holds at the pipe, seemingly content to just ignite the liquid as it comes out. A huge battle taking place at the opening of the pipe between the pressure of the liquid coming out and the hunger of the fire trying to get in.

‘GO,’ Dave roars as he drops down from the GPMG, his voice the loudest I have ever heard…but then he knows what’s coming.

The Saxon steams down the avenue, racing towards the entrance. I open the passenger door and lean out, staring back at the flames spewing from the pipe. The amplified voice still booming out but the words lost from the roar of our engine.

Clarence cracks one of the rear doors open, the lads and Lani peering out of the gap at the flames that seem to grow larger and more fierce with every second. The sky above the flames shimmers from the heat, dirty oily smoke pouring up into the still air.

We reach the entrance we came in from, Nick driving straight over the bodies of the men we shot down. He aims well, scooting straight through the ruined gate and onto the access road.

The flames grow larger, a dull roar that reaches us despite the increasing distance and the sound of the engine. Then they stop. Gone.

‘Close the door,’ Dave orders calmly.

‘Why it’s stopped?’ Cookey asks.

‘It hasn’t,’ his words are flat and lifeless but strike a chord in all of us. Cookey stares in horror for a second, unable to tear his eyes away from the patch of sky where the flames were.

That same patch of sky erupts as a huge fireball detonates into the air, followed a split second later by a deafening bass filled roar. Both Cookey and I stay watching out the open doors, completely unaware of how fast Nick is driving.

The fireball grows larger and larger, reaching high into the sky.  A solid wall of flame that seems contained and almost spherical, like a twisting tornado. The sight is awesome, mesmerising even. Then another one goes. I say another one as I have no idea what it is, but whatever is next to the fireball goes up, adding another massive explosion that rocks the ground. We all feel the vibration that shudders the vehicle, the heat wave from the first one hits us as dry charged air blasts against the vehicle.

The second fireball just melts into the first one, creating a wider, twisting wall of flame that dances hundreds of feet into the air.

I twist round, seeing the determination on Nick’s face as he concentrates on the road ahead. I think of what Dave said, about the people in the international space station seeing the refinery explode before and I can’t imagine it’s anywhere near as big as this one.

Smaller explosions reach us, dull thuds like fireworks popping off in the distance. The pipes and tubes must be melting with the heat, spilling their explosive contents to be ignited and join the fireball.

The Saxon is going flat out now, which isn’t that fast in comparison to most modern cars but the size and weight of the things makes you feel the speed more acutely. The chassis vibrates noisily causing us to tremble and judder. Cookey hangs on tight as he and the others stare out the still open rear door. I’m hanging on for dear life too, still unable to stop watching the flames scorching the sky.

They grow larger every second as more dull thuds and smaller explosions reach us. Dark solid fragments fly high into the air to go spinning off deeper into the refinery. Those fragments will be super-hot and judging from the height they reach; they’ll plummet down with incredible force and cause even more damage as they land.

One of the silo’s goes up next, and it dwarfs the previous explosion. Making it look like a match head in comparison. A huge thick broiling plume of deep red and yellow flames soar up and up, the sound reaches us a second later. A sound so deep it resonates through our bones.

The road starts the incline, heading further away from the refinery. Just one Silo as far as I can tell. Just one and already it fills the sky.

Another one goes, followed an instant later by another. It must be the ones closest to the first, being set off in a chain like reaction. The people in the refinery must be dead already. Nothing could survive what we’re seeing. The heat would melt them in their boots, the lack of oxygen would suffocate them.

Still we climb the hill, getting higher and higher and with every metre we climb the view of the refinery opens up. The sight sickens me for the few fires underway are tiny in relation to the whole of the site. What we saw, the teaming huge flames reaching into the sky were just a fragment, just a taster of what’s to come.

The others realise it too. Lani turns to me with an intense look on her face, Cookey and Blowers stare at each other quietly. Clarence stands with his back to me, staring through the gap. Only Dave seems unbothered as he watches out the front window.

‘Are we far enough?’ Lani asks, ‘Dave…are we far enough?’

He turns slowly, staring first out the back door then at her. He shakes his head, ‘not yet…’

Another silo goes and this time we see the detonation from the ground upwards. A spontaneous combustion that shoots another fireball up. Another goes, then a whole row is set off one by one. Big white silo’s that look perfectly clean and round from here just go up, spewing their contents as though to destroy the sky.

Smaller fires break out, distinctly bright against the dark ground. Smoke billows as the fires spread. A tube must ignite as a long spume of flame goes off, zipping from left to right within seconds, like a fuse from a stick of dynamite.

It detonates something, which sets something else off. More tubes ignite, flames zipping left to right, right to left, up and down. A whole cross section of shooting fires that light the ground up like a laser display.

I try to calculate our distance. We’re topped out at just over sixty miles an hour. That’s roughly a mile a minute. Three, maybe four minutes since we left so maybe three or four miles distance. That sounds good but right now, staring back…it doesn't feel anywhere near enough.

The refinery goes up. The whole of thing detonates into a supernova. A burning sun grows from the ground, devils, demons and monsters of hell rise from the earth to screech into the sky.

A mushroom shaped thing of living flame that grows and increases in height, girth, depth, width and every other dimension known. It must be alive, for a thing such as this cannot be anything else.

It rises higher and higher. So bright that the sky around it seems to darken. So bright that it almost burns my retinas from looking at it. So huge that I have to crane my neck to see the top, and still it grows higher.

The shockwave spreads out in a wide circle simply making the ground flat. Everything that was there is removed. Houses, buildings, cars, trees. Nothing can withstand the blast. The seaward side of the refinery is gone from view and I can only imagine the devastation such a blast must be causing.

Then the sound comes. A furious roar of rushing wind and dragons breath that just hits in one full on symphony of noise. The shockwave comes with the noise. A deafening evil dry and scorching wind. I slam the door closed and see the others get buffeted deep into the Saxon as the pressure slams the rear door closed. Everywhere is noise. Just solid noise that seems to lift the Saxon into the air, rocking and jolting us.

I’m screaming, Nick is screaming as he grips the steering wheel. Debris flies in front of us, smaller items cascade down onto the road in front of the vehicle or go flying past the windows. A hurricane of wind that sends missiles off vertically and high into the sky to come whizzing and spinning back to earth.

Dirty air buffets us all around. The blue sky is gone from view as a sea of brown and scorched greys sail all around us. Everyone is screaming but they do it silently for nothing can penetrate the wall of noise that is suddenly and forever more our existence. This must be hell. We died in the explosion and this is it. An eternity of pressure, of noise, of screeching and knowing with every ounce of your being that you cannot survive. My ears pop repeatedly from the pressure changes in the air. My throat becomes sore from the screaming and the heat. My eyes blur from the sights I cannot stand to see.

I blink and blink, desperately trying to clear my vision. What fills my view is Dave, stood there holding onto something above his head with both hands. His face looks serene and without fear. He looks at me and smiles, a slow grin that lights his face up. His eyes tell me not to be scared for this cannot be hell, because if it was the devil would be on his knees in front of Dave praying for forgiveness.

I smile back. A slow reaction that I do not now, and perhaps never will, understand. I reach out and touch Nick’s shoulder, he screams with panic and fear. I grip him harder, squeezing and shaking.

He slowly turns his head to look at me and sees me smiling. His scream drops off as tears roll down his face. He nods, slowly then faster and grins back, it changes his face. His eyes sparkle as he eases his foot from the accelerator and turns back to face the road.

Outside the window is awful, just a black sky with faint hints of blue in the distance. Debris is still being buffeted past us but thankfully the weight of the vehicle and the distance we made seems to have kept us safe.

Cookey and Blowers are both hanging on for dear life, Clarence has wedged himself in front of the girl we saved, I’d forgot all about her with everything going on. Lani is sat next to her with the girl clinging on to her for dear life.

I climb over the seats, still unable to hear anything properly.  A rushing sound comes from outside and my ears are ringing from the noise. Dave looks at me questioningly, I point to the GPMG and he nods. Climbing up I ease my head out of the hole and stare in wonder at the sky above.

Then I twist round and see the truest wonder I have ever seen. The mushroom fireball is still raging away but diminishing and growing smaller. The sheer power of the pressured fuel has been exhausted and it’s just the flammable liquids left to burn out. I still can’t see past the site to the river but I can just make out the outskirts of the refinery.  Already the surrounding area is a blackened wasteland of smouldering fires and twisted unidentifiable lumps.

The folly of man hits home harder than ever. The one place left that could have kept us going for many years with fuel and equipment and now it’s gone. Blown to bits by a stray bullet and all the people inside incinerated. Shit. What have we done. Even now, on the very brink of our species being wiped out we still fight and kill each other out of greed and jealousy.

Looking up into the blackened sky I see our future mapped out. Dark boiling clouds gathering that will be visible for many miles. The tremor alone would have been felt like an earthquake, the fallout from this will be catastrophic for years. But then no one will be here to see it. Fifty years from now the sea would have reclaimed some of the land. Plants and vegetation will grow back. Animals and birds will nest and continue and it’ll repair.

Right now, looking at the sheer destruction we caused, it’s almost seems a good thing that we’re being culled. We’d fuck this planet up completely if we stayed.

Twenty-Six

‘Harry you dumb ass motherfucker, which way we going now?’ Randall demands of the big ex-biker. His red bloodshot eyes looking even more awful above the long shaggy beard. He looks about as though contemplating then points away to one side, away from Portsmouth.

‘You sure now? Don’t be fucking sending us on no long walk,’ Randall looks about the area. They crossed the sea easy enough in the boat, taking it steady for risk of hitting something unseen in the water.

With the bright moonlight they were able to make out the distinct skyline of Portsmouth city and use it as a guide, heading east along the coast away from anywhere that might be populated.

By the early hours they were beaching the boat on a deserted shore and wading through the shallows to wait on the sand. Randall watched his men closely. The stupid chat between them was gone, Colin was the only one that made any form of observation or dumb comments. The others had become quiet and business like, doing exactly as bid.

They all looked to Harry, waiting while he got his bearings and decided the direction. Then they set off, a group of hardened and experienced criminals marching along the shoreline in near silence.

‘Tell me about this fort? And don’t be giving me no one word answers…I need to know how we get in, which direction we come so don’t be just saying it’s big or shit like that,’ Randall glares at Harry. Harry glares ahead.

‘Back is on the sea, don’t know if there is a door, front has flat land for maybe a mile. Got two walls, both big and made of concrete. Big gate in the middle.’

‘Holy fuck, we can’t cross that flat land, they’ll see us coming…you know of any tunnels or shit?’

Harry shakes his head rubbing the bottom of his beard against his chest.

‘Any other doors round the side?’ Randall asks, Harry thinks for a minute then shrugs.

‘This is a mother-fucking perplexing issue right here…how the fuck we gonna get in?’

‘Why not just knock on the door and ask,’ Colin says with an innocent grin.

‘Are you really that stupid?’

‘We can talk, we just knock and…’

‘Hey yeah that’s a real good idea Colin, say you people with your guns can you open up and let us mother-fucking brain eaters in please…holy shit man, that’s got to the dumbest fucking thing you’ve said so far…how the fuck are you still alive? You should’ve have been terminated at birth you dumb fucking retard…’

‘Well it was only an idea,’ Colin replies with huffily.

‘And a stupid mother-fucking idea at that…don’t speak…no don’t say a mother-fucking word or Harry will start using your fucking teeth to comb his beard.’

They walk on in silence. Randall brooding as he thinks of how to get inside the fort. The hunger inside him is immense, a strong urge to rip and tear, to destroy and dominate. The going is hard and as the sun rises into the sky they all feel the intense heat bearing down on them.

Around sweepings bays of golden sand they walk, the clear blue waters lapping gently at the shore. Green fields and meadows border the beach. A perfect summers day in an idyllic setting. Birds swoop amongst the sand dunes that roll gently away into the distance. Gulls cry and float serenely on the warm currents of air. Rabbits, already feeling braver from the lack of human contact, run and bounce through the grassy dunes.

Twelve days of no people and the sand looks virginal with no signs of footsteps or sandcastles. No screaming children covered in sun-cream being chased by harassed parents with bright red sweaty faces.

All of the beauty of the area is lost on the men. The urge to feast, and to please Randall, are the driving factors. Nothing else matters now. They could be walking through a barren wasteland of scorched earth and their reaction would be no different.

Hours pass as they march on, hugging the shore and keenly watching the distance for signs of the fort.

They see it easily. A large edifice stark against the surrounding organic nature of the area. Sturdy walls built high on a spit of land that juts out into the sea.

Randall pauses his group, knowing they will be spotted if he continues straight along the shore. He leads the men away from the sea and into a beachside residential area of large houses, cafés and restaurants. All of them looking empty and dark.

Hidden from view they make their way through the roads and lanes, catching glimpses of the fort in the distance.

As they get closer, Randall realises the spit of land the fort is built on forms a bay that separates them with a wide expanse of water. The spit stretching much further into the sea than the rest of the shore line.

They can either work their way round the bay and come in from the north, or go across the water and enter into the flatlands. A boat would be no good, too easily seen by any lookouts. Coming in from the north is just the same, a group of large built men walking through that flat ground would be instantly visible. The south is an option, coming up to the fort from the seaward side.

‘I surely hope you dumb-fucks can swim,’ Randall mutters without taking his eyes off the glittering surface of the water.

‘I can’t,’ one man replies in a flat tone.

‘Then you best be good at drowning quietly,’ Randall stares at him intensely, the man nods without showing a flicker of emotion.

Randall takes them through gardens and grounds to the shore line, holding the men in the cover of the trees before sending them down one at a time to ease themselves into the sea with strict instructions to only keep their heads out of the water.

He watches as the first one goes down, running bent over until he reaches the edge and wading through the shallows to the deeper water. The man keeps going, not flinching once as he walks until only his head is showing then turns to wait.

Randall hangs back, waiting with the one who said he couldn’t swim. As the last one runs out he draws his knife and stares at the man. They lock eyes. The man shows no fear or concern at being confronted by Randall holding a blade.

‘Can’t risk you making noise,’ Randall says quietly.

‘Okay,’ the man replies. Watching as Randall jabs the point of his knife forward, thrusting it deep into his stomach. The man looks down at the handle sticking out and Randall’s hand gripping it. Still he shows no reaction as Randall starts turning the knife slowly. Twisting the blade deep within the man’s gut.

‘Holy fuck,’ Randall whispers, his eyes locked on the man he’s stabbing, he pulls the knife out and watches as a thick stream of blood soaks the front of the man’s top, a bright crimson stain spreading quickly across his stomach. The man just stares down at it. The knife is plunged in again, a deep thrusting motion that drives it up to the hilt. Randall draws it out and stabs again, then again. Aiming all round the stomach and then the sides.

The man drops down as his internal organs are pierced. The infection unable to contain the damage being sustained to the host body.

Randall goes with him, a wild look in his bulging eyes as he stabs and stabs, sinking the knife into the soft flesh and relishing in the violence of killing someone who shows no reaction.

Eventually he stands back, chest heaving and dripping blood from his soaked arm. The man lies still, his eyes staring up at Randall as his life blood drains away.

‘Motherfucker,’ Randall shakes his head, ‘you do die quietly don’t you…if I’d known that you could have come with us…sorry buddy.’

‘I understand,’ the man replies. His eyes close slowly as he slips away, dying for the second time.

Shrugging and shaking his head Randall turns round and heads down to the water, he crouches like the others and quickly wades in. Taking care to sweep his legs along rather than bringing them up and down.

Within a couple of seconds he’s out into the deeper water, feeling the relief of the water cooling his sun baked body. He drops down to soak his face, coming back up as the water drains down from his head, dripping from his beard.

With the knife pushed into his waistband he kicks out, lifting his feet from the sea floor and gently kicking his way towards the opposite shore.

He glances about, seeing the inmates doing the same thing. They go slowly, all of them using some form of breast stroke to avoid lifting their arms over the surface of the water. This close, the heads look distinct against the smooth natural colour of the sea. But from a distance he knows they’ll be very hard to spot, especially with the bright sun reflecting off the sea.

They reach the other side without issue, stopping when they feel the bottom of the seabed coming back into reach of their feet.

‘Wait here,’ Randall whispers, telling the men to pass it on quietly. He swims forward, keeping his body low in the water until the very last second then quickly rising up to run crouched into the long grass of the verge.

He drops down onto his belly then starts crawling away from the shore. The high grass ends within a few metres of the shore, forcing him to hold still and watch.

To his left is the ruined housing estate, the twisted blackened stumps of houses and buildings. The flatlands look vast from his position with no form of concealment. To go across here would be stupid.

Looking across to the fort the raised earth banks obscure his view of the main gates but he can see the high walls, sheer in design with no way of getting over them without a rope and making a lot of noise.

He edges backwards, snaking his way through the grass and back into the water swimming south, heading away from the land and following the contour of the spit of land as it stretches out into the sea.

Several of them hated the water and detested swimming, with memories of cold municipal community swimming pools from their school days and being forced to dive down to grab a brick while wearing pyjamas. But now they swim without complaint. Content to follow Randall.

The small beach disappears as the spit of land goes into deeper water. The side of the fort lunging straight into the sea. This means they can get closer, swimming just feet from the wall and reducing their chances of being seen. They follow the long wall as it curves round to reveal the long back section. A large collection of boats are moored up away from the fort, all held in place by anchor chains plunging down into the depths.

Keeping close to the wall they make their way along, going as slow as possible to avoid making any noise. Randall in the lead with the others strung out in a long line.

The rear door comes into view. A solid wooden thing built flush into the wall and without tools they would have no way of getting it open. A narrow shore has been created around the door, just enough land for the people inside to walk out and move a few feet to the sides.

Randall pauses a few metres from the door, treading water and examining the wooden structure. He works out which side the door is hinged on, and that it opens outwards. Perfect.

He moves gently to the land, using his powerful arms to pull himself out of the water. Without speaking he motions for the men to come closer, pulling them up easily and then waiting while they flatten themselves against the wall. Their wet bodies smearing the concrete and dripping water onto the sun baked ground.

The last one is pulled out, Randall gets against the wall, having to stand closely cramped with the other men so there’s enough room. He gets to the side of the door and grins.

All he needs now is some dumb-ass motherfucker to stroll out and take a piss.

Twenty-Seven

‘We’ll have to dock in the Portsmouth ferry terminal.’

‘And why is that a problem?’ Marcy asks.

‘This boat has different dimensions to the fleet used for the Portsmouth route, the dock is purpose built to the sizes of the vessels.’

‘Oh so are we too big or too small?’

‘Too wide, the length is not an issue but we may have a gap at the front…the other consideration is that there may already be a vessel in the dock.’

‘What do we do then?’ She stares ahead out of the bridge window at the inky black sea and the first signs of dawn showing against the horizon.

‘Find another dock,’ he replies, she looks at him quickly, unsure if he was being sarcastic. So hard to tell with the flat monotone voices, she shakes her head, convincing herself he was just answering honestly.

She turns round as the bridge door opens, blinking at the sight of Reginald walking through with April.

‘What on earth have you got on?’ She asks with a puzzled smile.

‘Life jackets,’ Reginald replies stiffly, ‘I took the precaution in case of a disaster at sea , here I’ve got one for you.’ He holds up a bright orange flotation jacket.

More communicators walk onto the bridge, all of them wearing the same orange life vests. Marcy stares from one to the other, amazed at the sight.

‘Reggie…it’s a perfectly calm sea in the middle of the summer and we’re moving between the Isle of Wight and Portsmouth…with absolutely no other ships moving anywhere…at all…’

‘Be that as it may, there are still precedents where accidents can occur and I thought it wise to take this simple step to prevent any loss of life…yes I can see you find this highly amusing but really you should be setting an example to the others.’

‘I’m not wearing a life jacket Reggie.’

‘This is fundamental personal protective equipment when on board a vessel at sea…’

‘We’re not at sea Reggie, we’re crossing the tiny bit of water between the Isle…’

‘I think you will find that regardless of the voyage or the intended destination we are technically at sea…Captain…is this not the case?’

‘Yes,’ the captain replies…’I mean no….that is most definitely not the case.’

‘You willed him to say that!’

‘Reggie I didn’t,’ Marcy laughs.

‘He said yes then he paused and said the opposite…and you had that look on your face.’

‘What look?’

‘That look…the I’m willing someone look.’

‘I don’t have a face for that.’

‘You do, she does doesn't she April?’

April pauses, staring first at Marcy then at Reginald, ‘no she doesn't.’

‘You did it again! This is really most unfair…and I have to ask you to stop willing people at will…it is a special thing that should be used properly and not for mocking me.’

Marcy bursts out laughing, tears rolling down her cheeks, ‘I didn’t that time…honestly I really didn’t…’

‘Oh stop it now.’

‘I really didn’t…April said that herself.’

‘Great,’ Reginald huffs with a sulky tone, ‘two of you mocking me…I suppose everyone will start doing it now.’

‘Oh Reggie, come here…I’ll put it on if it makes you feel better,’ she laughs, taking the life vest from him.

‘It’s not a matter of making me feel better, it’s a matter of safety.’

‘We’re zombies Reggie…safety doesn't really factor into what we do.’

‘First of all…the term is living challenged and not that zed word…second, my name is Reginald and there is no reason why we should not be incorporating basic health and safety measures into our actions.’

‘Good god Reggie….this is the apocalypse…the end of times…I don’t think health and safety matters one bit anymore…ah look, it doesn't fit,’ Marcy says, having shrugged her arms through the holes she attempts to pull the zip up, her breasts refusing to be squashed flat enough. She breathes out and tries again, yanking the zip which just makes her boobs wobble in the low cut top she’s still wearing.

‘Marcy…yes I can see it doesn't fit, please stop wobbling them like that I don’t know where to put my eyes.’

She looks at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes, yanking on the zip again and making her boobs wobble even more, ‘but Reggie,’ she purrs, ‘I’m just trying to do what you said…’

‘Stop it…stop it now, oh good lord,’ he turns away blushing furiously and shielding his eyes with his hand. ‘April please go and get Marcy a larger size life jacket.’

‘Yes Reggie,’ April replies. Marcy’s mouth drops open as April smiles and walks off.

‘Did she…’ Reginald looks up in shock.

‘She did,’ Marcy laughs, pulling the life jacket off.

‘Did you will her to say that?’ He asks with narrowed eyes, staring at her suspiciously.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever willed April, no need to…’

‘Well can you will her not to call me that,’ he pleads.

‘Nope, you just said I shouldn’t be willing at will all willy nilly.’

‘Yes I did…well I shall be having words with that young lady, I think she fails to realise there is a hierarchy to this organisation and I for one find it immensely disrespectful to be called by an abbreviated form of my correct title.’

‘Name not title,’ Mildred corrects him, ‘title is used before name to show position, rank or standing in life.’

‘This is ganging up…’ Reginald wails, ‘you’re all ganging up on me.’

Marcy laughs again, shaking her head she turns back to look out the window. The horizon is distinctly lighter now, pushing deep shades of blue into the receding night.

‘Is there another way instead of docking at Portsmouth?’ Marcy asks with a serious tone, ‘I’m not comfortable with moving such a large horde through a city centre, especially not one like Portsmouth.’

‘There are harbours all along the coast but they are tidal and will not have the clearance we need.’

‘What do you suggest? We really cannot dock in a city, it’s too much risk.’

‘I concur,’ Reginald adds in a serious voice, ‘and a good idea if I may say so, I should have thought of that before…my apologies.’

‘No need, I only just thought of it myself…so what other options do we have?’ She asks the man driving the ship.

‘We can beach the vessel and simply walk off but that would render the ship useless, or we can anchor away from the shore and use the life vessels to shuttle our people inland.’

Marcy pauses at the phrase he used, our people, a collective ownership and to her, an important step in the right direction. He could have said your people or many other forms of address, but he didn’t, he said our people.

‘How long would it take to do the second option? Do all the emergency life vessels have engines?’

‘No, two of them do and very powerful engines too. The idea is for the passengers to get aboard the flotation devices and attach them in a line to the two boats with engines, they simply pull them into the shore.’

‘And that way we leave this ship safe in the sea without causing any damage to it?’

‘In a manner of speaking yes, of course in this mild weather the vessel should suffer no harm but if the weather were to change and the vessel’s anchor was not secured properly it could drift and cause damage.’

‘It’s the best option we’ve got, I don’t want to ruin this ship unless we have to, there’s no need for that…Reggie? What do you think?’

‘I agree, the second option would be the best. I understand your concerns at not damaging the vessel and it also means we choose our landing ground which of course is the most important thing.’

‘Agreed, Captain…change the heading to one zero four six, full steam ahead.’

‘I don’t know what that means,’ the captain replies.

‘Nor do I, but I always wanted to say it…er…can you take us somewhere safe so we can get off?’

‘Yes.’

The boat gently swerves out from the intended destination of Portsmouth harbour, instead pointing out to sea to cruise past the coast.

Once safely past the harbour mouth, the naval supply ship clearly in view, they watch the shore, looking for the perfect place to land.

‘There,’ Reginald lowers the binoculars, handing them to Marcy and guiding her view, ‘that’s got to be the boat the inmates took last night.’

Marcy brings the powerboat into view, focussing on the beach area where it lies. Nothing obvious from this distance. She lowers the binoculars, looking up into the deep blue morning sky.

‘Why have they come here?’ She muses more to herself than an outright question.

‘They had to land somewhere, and it does look a safe spot,’ Reginald replies.

‘But they could have gone straight over, they’ve taken a longer route like we are and we’re only doing it so we get closer to the fort.’

‘A perplexing conundrum indeed,’ Reginald sighs, ‘and one which we may never know the answer to, but it does look a good clear spot…those dunes will be good to move them into straight away, keep them out of sight until we’ve undertaken a full reconnaissance.’

‘I don’t like it, I don’t want to land in the same pace as they did, they could be in those dunes now watching us.’

‘It’s a perfect spot, and besides I think they have more to fear from our several thousand than the ten or so of them,’ Reginald says.

‘We’ll be too close to the fort if we go much further,’ the captain adds.

Marcy stops to think for a minute, weighing the options up. The spot is perfect which is why the others must have used it. Discrete and isolated with no buildings in sight, ‘Go for it, how close can we get?’

‘The seabed shelves quite quickly here, we cannot go that close,’ the captain responds.

‘Close as you can, what do you need from us?’

The former second officer and now newly promoted captain, a promotion he had been working towards for the previous ten years, and knew it would be at least another five or six years before he reached the top, explains the processes to Marcy, Reginald and the few other communicators on the bridge.

Once the position was found he anchored the vessel and moved out onto the upper decks, releasing the explosive charge in the life-buoys which sent them popping out of the metal canister down onto the surface of the water already inflated. The large round rubberised flotation devices were held in place by ropes while the host bodies moved from the car decks, jumping the gap to land safely on them.

Several missed the mark and plopped into the water with a splash. Of those, a few were recovered and dragged onto the rafts.

While the mass exodus of the undead hosts was underway from the boat to the buoys, the captain moved to the two powered vessels and rapidly winched them down to the water.

Marcy, following the captain, once again marvelled at how quickly the whole process was done. No one stopping to ask questions, no one screaming in panic or pushing. Just silent work undertaken with a slightest of input from the communicators.

The powered vessels manoeuvred between the round buoys, scooping up the trailing ropes to fasten them together.

Within half an hour the process was complete, with every host moved from the vessel to the rafts. An incredible feat considering the sheer numbers of those aboard the ship.

The rafts were jammed full and heavily over laden, but with a perfectly flat sea and no wind the only danger was some small splashes coming as they were dragged towards the shore.

Once in the shallows the hosts slip down and wade onto the hot beach to stand patiently and wait instruction from their beloved leader.

‘Truly remarkable,’ Reginald remarks, standing in the shallow water with his trouser legs rolled neatly up, holding his shoes and socks up high and still wearing the orange life-jacket he looks to the horde steadily massing on the beach, ‘the whole thing done with no fuss,’ he turns to look back at the ship and the second powered boat dragging the rafts in, ‘remarkable,’ he repeats. Walking out of the water he winces as the sand clings to his wet feet and ankles and moves further up the beach.

Easing himself down he starts dusting the sand from his toes, using his socks to wipe them dry then carefully pulls his socks back on. The shoes follow, which are diligently laced up after which he rolls his trouser legs down and tuts at the new creases formed.

Finished, he stands up, plucking his shirt sleeves straight and making sure he’s tucked in properly.

‘Right, that’s that…what’s next in our grand adventure?’ He beams at Marcy stood watching him with the bottom of her jeans sodden up to the knees. Even Mildred, the genteel old woman simply hoisted her skirt up to wade through the water and enjoyed the cooling water on her feet.

‘Captain,’ Marcy calls the former second officer, sticking to the new title given by Reginald, ‘you know this area better than us, which way is the fort?’

The captain points east, ‘few miles that way.’

With the inflatable rafts pulled up onto the beach they set off.  Three distinct groups form as they walk, Marcy, Reginald and a few at the very front. These being the ones that possess more of their natural faculties. The second group consists of the communicators, those that can talk but lack the general independent intelligence of the first group. Then the main horde, the slobbering drooling red eyed head wobbling massed zombies.

Reginald looks back, noticing the three groups and the natural way they formed. Glancing round he takes in Marcy, watching her distant look and sensing the turmoil she feels.

What Marcy feels is conflict. A deep conflict that threatens to pull her every which way possible. The urge to feast is strong, so strong that it constantly nags at her will. Find more hosts, do it now, we must find more hosts and take them. But the same inner argument remains, to keep taking hosts will lead to an end with no more hosts. Then what? This is the way. This has to be the way.

The interaction between April and Reggie, as innocuous as it appeared, left a strong impact on her. April made a joke, a feeble weak comment that wouldn’t raise an eyebrow in any other circumstances but April was a communicator. One of the hosts that could speak and do as requested without appearing to have any individuality. April was evolving. She understood the social dynamics and adapted her behaviour accordingly.

Two species that will fight to the death for dominance over the other. The damage already inflicted may well be beyond recovery, so many billions of lives destroyed in just twelve days. If this carries on at the same rate of progress there might not be anything left in another twelve days.

There is another option, one that forces itself into her mind. Don’t go to the fort but turn as many as possible and lead them in the new way. But that new way would be the same, existing to turn more hosts and the same inevitable conclusion will be there.

No, this is the only option. This has to be done. If they have doctors and medical equipment that can test and isolate the infection it could be the one thing that saves mankind. Not the mankind of old, but the new mankind. This must be done.

Determination settles within her. The inner turmoil once again suppressed and held in check. Once again she speaks with the hosts around her, those able to communicate. She tells them again that no matter what happens to her, they must see this through. They must present themselves to the fort and tell the people inside the truth.

So close now. So close to the fort and seeing it through. She takes a deep breath and walks on, resolute and determined.

Twenty-Eight

‘Listen, I was never a firearms officer but I’ve been a police officer long enough to know that you do not discharge a weapon into a crowded environment. What Howie and his group did last night was unforgivable,’ Sergeant Hopewell pauses, looking at the crowd gathered round her. Deep within the tented city of the inner fort she stands in full uniform, holding a mug of coffee with her hands and holding court to the eager crowd with her voice. ‘It really is that simple, how many people died? Forty…forty people gunned down by untrained people reacting in panic,’ she shakes her head sadly, taking a sip of the coffee, ‘this has to be a stable society with rules and laws, the same rules and laws that governed us before this event must apply here. We have properly trained and experienced people here who can protect and guard us and I know for damn sure they won’t just fire into a crowd of people blindly hoping for the best.’

‘They were shooting babies…just shooting them dead and cutting their throats open,’ one woman says tearfully.

‘Did you see that?’ Another man asks shocked.

‘No, but I got told by someone who did see it, they said they was just shooting babies in the head, babies that…’

‘But if they were bitten they had to be shot, we’ve all seen what happens when they come back,’ another voice joins in.

‘Babies ain’t got no teeth,’ someone else adds, ‘they can’t bit people and I heard the babies were asleep in their beds.’

‘Don’t be stupid, they weren’t running into tents and shooting sleeping babies, that’s just ridiculous.’

‘They were punching innocent people in the face though, I heard an old woman got her jaw broke just for looking.’

‘It wasn’t an old woman, it was…’

‘Listen,’ Sergeant Hopewell draws their attention back, ‘whatever they did…however they did it…it wasn’t the right thing to do given the circumstances. The fact that so many witnesses have said they saw them shooting innocent people and cutting throats is enough to tell us we shouldn’t be trusting them anymore…’

‘So what we gonna do now?’ A woman asks, her face drawn and pale.

‘I’ve spoken very strongly to the guards and told them in no uncertain terms what we expect from them and that under no circumstances are they to discharge a weapon into the main living area…’

‘But what if one of ‘em gets in here? It’s only gotta bite a couple and we’re all fucked,’ a voice calls out.

‘And how are they going to get in?’ Sergeant Hopewell replies quickly, ‘our gates are locked and bolted, the walls are too high to climb and we’ve got lookouts everywhere….that’s my point. Howie and his lot didn’t know if we had one inside here, they just guessed and decided to deal with it their way.’

‘So that lad wasn’t one of them things then?’

‘All I can say is that it was never proven that he was one of them, he walked back in with the others right as rain and then a couple of minutes later he’s being stabbed to death.’

‘What about his body? Someone could have a look and see his eyes…’

‘The bodies were removed,’ Sergeant Hopewell cuts in, ‘they were taken to the estate with the others before anyone had a chance to check…my point is that Howie didn’t know, none of them knew….they just charged in here firing their guns like a bloody video game.’

‘What do we do if it happens again?’

‘I’ve just said,’ Sergeant Hopewell smiles, ‘it can’t happen again…I personally don’t think it happened like that in the first place…if something happens, shouting and screaming then we get the guards to get in and see what’s going on. We’ve got thousands of people here, all living on top of each other, there could be fights and disagreements just the same as before…that doesn't mean we just assume they’re infected and start shooting everyone.’

‘Well said,’ a strong voice calls out. Murmurs of agreement ripple through the crowd. The uniformed police sergeant looks the part, an older woman of sound mind and common sense, and here she is, taking the time to drink coffee with the normal folk. Howie never did that. None of his group ever stood about chatting and drinking coffee like average people.

Throughout the morning she works her way through the tents, stopping to speak to groups of survivors, talking about the nights events and how she thinks it was all done wrong. Like a politician canvassing for voters she expresses her beliefs in how the fort should be run and plants the seed of dissent amongst the many.

Chris, glad of the respite from having to argue with her every five minutes, doesn't notice her actions. Absorbed by the multitude of tents and structures she is lost from view while he goes about trying to get everything done.

Sergeant Hopewell, on seeing a group of the engineers carrying the GPMG up to the top of the inner wall makes her way towards them. Approaching carefully and with an interested look.

‘We’re getting it fixed into position,’ one of the engineers replies after being asked what they’re doing.

‘Oh,’ she replies pleasantly, ‘and who instructed you to do this?’

‘Er…Kelly did, but I think it was Chris that said it should go here,’ the same man replies, standing up to wipe sweat from his face.

‘Did he now? it’s not a problem and of course I can see you chaps are only doing what you’ve been told…it’s just that it wasn’t agreed through the proper channels and I’d hate for you to have to do all that work in getting a frame and tripod or whatever made up and then having to take it down or move it…’

‘Oh right,’ the man sighs, ‘we figured it had been agreed…’

‘No,’ she shakes her head, smiling again, ‘unfortunately not, we’ve got some highly experienced ex-military personnel within the fort that have yet to be asked their opinion and I can foresee some conflict. Of course I don’t know anything about the placing of a weapon such as this, but then neither does Howie and unfortunately it was his idea to put it here.’

‘Howie? But he knows what he’s doing,’ the man says with a puzzled expression.

‘Well that’s the problem you see, he worked in a supermarket before all this, so no he doesn't really know what he’s doing…but you carry on, we can always get it moved after.’

‘Oh…but it’s gonna take some work to get it fixed in here, we gotta do it all by hand, no power tools you see so er…do you think it might end up being moved?’

‘I think it’s highly possible, once we’ve got the opinions of the experts…’ she sighs, taking her hat off to use a tissue to dab at her flushed face, ‘that’s the other problem….Howie doesn't like taking the opinions of the experts, thinks he can do it all himself.’

‘Really? He seemed alright to me,’ the man says with a slightly shocked expression.

‘Yeah that’s how he comes across doesn't he,’ she stares at him earnestly, ‘I honestly thought he knew exactly what he was doing, we all did but you know…after last night and all those innocent people being shot and stabbed to death, especially the babies…well, I’m not so sure now.’

‘Babies?’

‘Sadly so, between you and me,’ she lowers her voice, stepping in closer, ‘there were quite a few children gunned down last night, no sign of blood or bites on any of them.’

‘Shit,’ the man gasps, ‘we all thought there were biters in here.’

‘Well,’ she steps back with a shrug, ‘that’s what Howie said but…no one actually saw a biter,’ she says, using the same terminology of the man to form a sense of allegiance.

‘Fuck, oh god…sorry I didn’t mean to swear.’

‘Don’t be silly, I’m on your side, I’m all for you chaps getting the right recognition…this fort wouldn’t be anything without the hard work you guys are doing which is why I thought I’d best mention the placing of the gun now, before you put all that effort in…that’s the other problem with Howie, he expects everyone to be working flat out all the time…and where is he?’ She stands back with her arms slightly raised, making a point of looking about.

‘Gone for fuel ain't they?’

‘So they say,’ she replies, ‘how long does that take? What’s he doing out there all this time? Just him and his group…just seems strange to me, but then,’ she shakes her head, ‘what do I know, I’ve just been a police sergeant for twenty years…’

‘No, yeah…course,’ the man nods at her, ‘so…maybe we should hang on then…before we get the gun fixed in.’

‘I would,’ she says kindly, ‘you all look hot, get yourself a drink in the shade, you need a break you know, especially in this awful heat.’

‘Yeah…yeah we are hot. We’ll get a drink then and wait for someone to let us know where to put it.’

‘Good idea, a nice cup of tea sounds good, I bet there must be some biscuits knocking about somewhere, I’ll see if I can get some sent over to you.’

‘Really? Biscuits? Bloody hell, that’d be lovely.’

‘Just between us though,’ she winks with a smile, ‘we don’t want everyone wanting biscuits do we…got to keep them safe for the real hard workers.’

She walks off with another wink, smiling as she looks out over the top at the flatlands. At the slope she pauses mid stride, staring across the fort at Chris stood talking to someone with that bloody dog at his side.

The dog that gives Howie all the power, just because he went out and got it, him and that bloody Chris. Neanderthal men running around like brutes. She spent years fighting male dominance in the police and now it’s all gone back to how it was with violent bullies running the show.

She heard the noise last night when it first started. The shots being fired, the shouts and screams but she waited, too terrified of moving closer. In the police there was always brave men to do that kind of thing. Pub fights, violent domestics, armed assailants and drunken public disorder. She’d done her two years frontline and then spent the rest of her time working office departments and specialist units before moving into the relatively safe custody department with the high desk she could sit behind. Organisation and administration, those were her strong points. So when the fighting started within the fort she was only too willing to hang back and wait for the worst to be over. Later claiming she was at the far side of the fort and within the rooms, out of earshot.

She hated the way everyone looked up to Howie. He was young, not even thirty years old and he had everyone in his pocket and he wasn’t even a police officer, just a stupid supermarket manager. And that group of his, the way they called him Mr Howie and boss. More and more people were calling her by her first name while more and more were calling him bloody Mister.

Resentment and jealousy course through her soul, not that she’d ever admit to having those feelings, not even to herself, instead they’re manipulated and translated as righteous anger. A sense that it’s being done wrong, and she is the one to fix it. That and the grief she feels at losing not only her own friends and associates, but now Steven and Tom make for a dangerous set of views that are quickly spread around the fort.

Chris pauses after speaking to the survivor, sharing a few words of comfort and listening to the other man’s problems for a minute before promising he’ll do the best he can, the same promise he repeats time and time again. Not just words either, but meaningful promises. As the man walks off he glances across the fort, spotting Debbie stood at the top of the slope, easily recognisable with her police hat perched on her head.

He sighs deeply, shaking his head with a deep sense of sadness as he understands why he hadn’t seen her for several hours and with a deeper sense of sadness at what damage she would have caused talking to people.

He needed to take action, he knew that but she was still a police sergeant and that meant something to Chris. She held rank and had proven herself highly capable at getting things organised at done, but the cost now was too high.

Looking round the fort, at the vast sea of tents crammed into the centre, at the many people walking or stood round chatting he suddenly felt the weight of the burden making his broad shoulders involuntarily sag from the pressure. Right now he wished he was out with Howie and Clarence, sat in the Saxon and doing the dangerous job instead of trying to placate so many different characters.

Still, at least they’re safe in here.

That’s something.

Twenty-Nine

‘Pull over,’ Clarence splutters.

‘Here?’ Nick asks.

‘Yeah here,’ I add, my voice comes out hoarse and my throat feels rough, like it’s been burnt.

Nick slows the Saxon, automatically edging to the side of the road, a habit long ingrained to save blocking the carriageway.

Once stopped we burst out of the vehicle, coughing and wheezing from the fumes trapped inside. The air is hot and uncomfortable but at least it’s not tainted with burnt oil fumes like the inside of the vehicle.

Lani carries out a case of water bottles and dumps them on the ground, ripping the plastic cover away to start handing the bottles round. Clarence drags the headless corpse out and throws it into the bushes like it’s a rolled up carpet being dumped.

‘Heads up,’ Nick Blowers tries to joke as he pulls the head out but starts coughing instead, dropping the head and toeing it away to join the rest of its body.

‘Fuck,’ Cookey gasps, a long drawn out noise full of awe as he stares back up the hill. We’re on the reverse side of the hill we went up to get away from the burning refinery. The descent has thankfully given us some fresher air and taken us further from the fire.

We stand in near silence, breathing heavily and coughing to clear the stench from our airways. The outside of the Saxon is filthy, covered in a thick greasy layer of grime that clings to every surface. Like dirty oil watered down and filled with grit.

Beyond the crest of the hill the thick broiling mushroom shaped cloud still blooms skywards, highly visible not only to us, but to everyone within a fifty mile radius probably. The explosion must have been felt everywhere, it was like an earthquake and I’ve no doubt the fort would have at least felt it and be able to see the smoke.

‘How long will it last?’ A strange voice breaks my thoughts. I snap my head round to see the girl stood with us, staring up at the cloud. She looks different. Drained and pale but composed.

She looks at me with a level gaze, pale blue eyes within a porcelain white face and framed by light blonde hair. Small build but there’s a strength in those eyes, a look the same as Lani has.

‘How long will it burn for?’ She repeats. I break eye contact and look at Dave.

‘Few days,’ he replies with a shrug.

‘My mouth tastes like a gorilla’s taken a dump in it,’ Nick moans, he takes a pull of water, swilling it round his mouth before spitting it out onto the hot road. It soaks away within seconds, leaving just a dark stain.

‘Me too,’ Cookey says, chomping his mouth as though eating something distasteful.

‘You okay?’ Lani asks the girl.

‘Yeah,’ she nods, staring at the cloud, ‘they’re all dead aren’t they?’

‘Who?’ Lani asks.

She shrugs, ‘everyone, everyone that was in that place.’

‘Yeah,’ Lani says quietly looking away at the cloud.

‘Good,’ she whispers, ‘I should feel bad but I don’t…I feel glad and I hope they fucking suffered.’

‘Can’t argue with that,’ Blowers says after a pause.

‘I’m Howie by the way,’ I hold my hand out and then feel a pang of shame knowing what she just went through, she looks at my hand and takes it with a quick shake.

‘Lillian…’ She drops my hand.

‘Nice to meet you.’

‘You’re Lani…is that right?’

‘Milani, but yeah…Lani.’

‘Thanks for helping me,’ her voice trails off, ‘I…er…’

‘Forget it,’ Lani says quickly, ‘it’s done.’

‘Okay, but thanks though…were the others all killed?’

Lani nods slowly but holds eye contact with the girl, ‘sorry.’

Lillian sighs and nods back, ‘yeah, I thought so…’

‘Were they your relatives?’ Cookey asks.

‘Don’t fucking ask the poor girl that!’ Blowers says quickly.

‘Shit sorry Lillian, I…I didn’t think…’

‘He never bloody does,’ Blowers adds.

‘It’s okay,’ Lillian says, ‘no they weren’t…my family live in the north, I was at University here…I did know them all but…’

‘I’m really sorry,’ Cookey says again, ‘I’m Cookey,’ he holds his hand out respectfully. She takes it the same way she did mine, a short quick shake and release. The others introduce themselves one by one, offering a quick handshake apart from Dave who just stands staring at the cloud.

‘Dave,’ he nods at her after a pause, ‘I don’t like shaking hands but Mr Howie keeps making me do it,’ he then offers his hand out with a quick glance at me.

‘Oh…you don’t have to,’ she says with a glance at me.

‘Thanks,’ he drops his hand quickly and still wipes it on the back of his trousers, despite having not made contact. A habitual reflex I guess.

‘Lillian, we’ve got a safe place along the coast, an old fort…’ Lani explains, having already made the connection with the girl she takes it on herself to say who we are, and why we came here. The girl listens, nodding intently. Visually they are the opposite, Lani is dark with tanned skin whereas Lillian is very pale with light hair. Their build is similar, Lillian perhaps being slightly heavier. The eyes though, they are the same. The same level gaze of someone who has been through hell and realised it didn’t break them. The same eyes as the rest of us have.

‘You’re welcome to come with us,’ I add when Lani finishes.

‘Thank you,’ she says simply.

‘But we’ve still got to get a fuel tanker yet, so there’ll be a delay before we get back…is that okay?’ It wouldn’t make a difference what she says now but politeness counts.

She nods and looks at Lani, at the pistol on her belt and the assault rifle held in one hand. ‘The guns you took off the men…can I have one?’

She looks at me with that same level gaze, I stare back for a second before glancing at Clarence who shrugs, up to you.

‘If we run into those things…or something else happens…I want to defend myself.’

‘Okay, yeah that’s fair enough,’ I nod, ‘Dave will show you how to use one.’

‘Can’t Lani do it?’ She asks.

‘No,’ I shake my head firmly, ‘Dave does it, Lillian you are not at risk from any of us, I’ll make that clear now…I get what you just went through and in normal times there would a period of recovery and grief but these aren’t normal times…’

‘I understand,’ she cuts me off, ‘sorry I shouldn’t have asked…I didn’t mean any offence to Dave.’

‘It’s not really possible to offend Dave,’ Cookey quips then quickly backs away with a grin as Dave glares at him, ‘sorry…sorry I was only joking…’

‘You must have a death wish Cookey,’ Clarence mutters with a grin.

‘Good film, I love Charles Bronson,’ Blowers adds.

‘I bet you do,’ Cookey says.

‘Oh fuck off,’ Blowers sighs as Lillian looks at between them with a puzzled expression.

‘You get used to it,’ Lani says, ‘it’s non-stop…really I mean non bloody stop…’

‘Oh you love us really Lani,’ Cookey laughs.

‘Careful,’ Nick laughs, ‘she’ll cut your head off.’

‘See what I mean,’ Lani says, ‘they’ll be mentioning that for the rest of the day now.’

‘What? You cutting that blokes head off?’ Cookey laughs.

‘You mean the head you cut off?’ Blowers joins in.

‘Okay okay,’ I cut in, ‘Dave would you show Lillian how to use a gun please mate.’

‘Pistol and rifle or just rifle?’ He asks.

‘Rifle will do for now, you can do the pistol dry fire when we get going.’

‘Okay Mr Howie…Lillian, come with me please,’ he slips smoothly into his sergeants role, leading the girl to the rear of the Saxon.

‘Got a smoke Nick?’

‘Do you want a packet boss?’ Nick replies.

‘Nah, I’ll just keep asking you.’

‘Okay,’ he taps one out and hands it over as I fish about for a lighter.

‘Here Mr Howie,’ Cookey holds his out.

‘Cheers mate,’ I light the smoke, coughing from the harsh pull of smoke after the thick smoke we just went through.

The three lads stand in silence, smoking away and staring at each other.

‘Lads,’ they all look at me, ‘I know exactly what you’re thinking but take it easy…after what she’s just been through, yes she’s very pretty but take it easy…understand?’

‘Yes boss,’ Nick nods.

‘Got it,’ Cookey says seriously.

‘Me too,’ Blowers adds.

‘You think she’s pretty?’ Lani cuts in with a glare and a sharp intake of breath from Clarence.

‘Careful boss, she’s got a knife,’ he says as the other three burst out laughing.

‘Well no I don’t think she’s pretty…but er…well the lads here obviously think she’s pretty so you know I was just saying…you know from their perspective.’

‘Definitely,’ Blowers takes it up with a serious nod.

‘I was just saying how pretty she was and the boss said he didn’t think she was pretty at all,’ Nick says with an air of pure innocence.

‘Men,’ Lani shakes her head.

A shot rings out from the back of the Saxon, we all flinch reaching for our weapons before relaxing with wry grins. Then we wait at the side as Dave quickly puts Lillian through the basics. Four of us remembering back in Salisbury when Dave did the same with us.

‘All done Mr Howie,’ Dave calls over, walking round to the side with the now armed Lillian with him. ‘I’ve given her the same weapon as us so there’s no issue with ammunition.’

‘Makes sense, we ready to go?’

‘I don’t know if it helps…but you said you’re looking for fuel?’ Lillian says holding the rifle across her chest self-consciously, but already I can see the simple act of holding a weapon makes her feel better.

We all stop to stare at her, she looks round at each face sensing the sudden change from easy going banter to serious faces.

‘Er…there’s a depot opposite the place I stayed in…there was always tankers parked up there at weekends…I don’t know if there’ll be any there or not…’

‘Worth a go,’ I reply quickly with a smile, ‘do you know the way?’

She nods, ‘maybe ten minutes from here…not far, but the place was crawling with those zombie things.’

‘Aahh,’ Clarence grimaces, ‘I hate that word.’

‘Ignore him,’ I say, ‘so there was loads of zombies yeah?’ I ask placing emphasis on the zombie word.

‘Was that zombies?’ Cookey joins in with a grin.

‘Someone say ZOMBIES?’ Nick laughs.

‘Little shits,’ Clarence mutters, climbing into the passenger seat.

‘Loads,’ Lillian says after another puzzled glance at the lads.

‘Loads as in how many?’ I ask.

‘I don’t know…hundreds I think…they were everywhere.’

‘What was that? Hundreds of ZOMBIES?’ Cookey shouts.

‘Cookey,’ Clarence shouts with a warning tone firmly edged into his voice.

We load up and pull out, following the main road until we’re directed by Lillian to pull off and head into the built up area of the main towns that border Southampton.

The lads ask her questions, friendly and non-invasive and done with their usual light-hearted banter. We find out her family was from the south but moved up north for her father’s work. She stayed down here to finish college and then go for university, studying business and finance and living in student accommodation. One older brother who was in the army and posted to Germany when the outbreak started.

As with Lani, she explained it in a blunt fashion with no emotion, which is something we’ve become used to. The feelings those conversations spark are just too painful to deal with. So why bother.

The inner towns are the same as before, only the decay is starting to show more. The burnt out houses and cars look old and charred instead of freshly burnt. The cadavers in the road are decomposing in the high heat, literally melting into the surface of the pavement and roads.

Large pools of dark stains writhe with thick, white maggots and flying insects buzz everywhere, rising from the corpses they feast upon.

We see the odd undead here and there but don’t stop to engage them. Instead we push on, driving the big vehicle through the grimy, shitty streets as directed by Lillian.

Nick takes the GPMG, glad of the chance to have a discrete smoke up top thinking that Dave won’t notice, as if anything gets passed him, but he lets it go without comment.

‘Just up there,’ she points to a wide road, a row of large terraced houses on one side and commercial properties on the other. The houses look distinctly student accommodation, cheap and large with overgrown front lawns full of mismatching garden furniture, the windows that are intact have old faded posters in them.

Only a handful of undead are gathered in the street, just stood there swaying back and forth with drool hanging from their mouths. They look awful, really haggard and drawn and barely recognisable as human other than their basic form. Days spent in the hot sun have withered them down, skin drawn tight across bone, deep recessed eyes and matted filthy hair.

‘Halfway up, there’s another road on the right that goes down to the depot I was saying about,’ Lillian points, leaning through the gap between the seats. ‘There were more than this,’ she adds looking at the small horde.

‘Must have gone somewhere else,’ I reply, turning the vehicle into the road and moving slowly towards the horde.

‘What are we doing with them?’ Nick shouts down.

‘Cut them down,’ I shout back, imagining the big grin on Nick’s face. The gun explodes to life, firing a short burst into the horde. Lillian watches with interest as the bodies are ripped apart. Rounds slamming into their chests and stomachs, the bodies flying backwards from the impact of the bullets.

The small horde is cut down within seconds, just a pile of bodies left to rot on the ground with everything else.

‘We might get more contact now,’ Clarence explains to Lillian, ‘the noise will draw them out.’

‘Why didn’t we just go past and leave them here?’

‘We could, but then come night they’ll turn into the nasty fuckers and be a risk to any other survivors,’ I reply.

‘So you kill all of them?’

‘Groups like that we will, if it doesn't get in the way of what we’re doing.’

‘How many have you killed?’

‘Thousands, maybe tens of thousands.’

‘Seriously?’ She asks with surprise, ‘turn right here…see that big gate down there, the tankers parked behind that.’

We drive down to the big metal gates she indicates. High sided with big signs warning of security patrols and CCTV and no naked flames beyond this point.

‘Nick, can you see over the top of those gates?’

‘No, you want me to climb up?’

‘Yeah is that alright?’

‘Okay,’ he scrabbles up to stand on the roof of the Saxon, ‘they’re too high,’ he shouts down.

‘How did you see them?’ Clarence asks.

‘My room was on the top floor, I saw them driving down here and could just see the tops of them through a gap in the wall,’ Lillian says.

‘The gate's locked with a big chain,’ Nick shouts.

‘Yeah we can see that, we’ll have to pull the gates off…can’t risk smashing them open if we don’t know what’s on the other side.’ I wait for Nick to drop back down then manoeuvre the vehicle so the back is face on to the gates.

‘I’ll cover with Cookey, Lani and Dave if you and Blowers get a chain rigged up,’ I say to Clarence, ‘Lillian you stay with Dave.’

We clamber out, once again feeling the impact of the heat. Within seconds we’re sweating freely as we move out to cover both sides of the street. Clarence and Blowers work quickly, getting a thick chain from inside the Saxon and attaching it to the gates.

Glancing round I see Dave stood next to Lillian, moving his gaze between the street and her. He makes a quiet comment and she adjusts the way she holds the rifle, pushing the butt of the gun more into her shoulder.

‘Ready. You want me to drive it?’ Clarence calls out.

‘Carry on mate,’ we move out away from the gates as Clarence gets into the driver’s seat. He pulls away gently until Blowers shouts the chain is taut, then he powers on pushing the vehicle onwards. The chain pings tighter and pulls the gates open. The padlock and chain snapping from the pressure.

‘Whoa,’ Blowers shouts waving his arm. Clarence jumps down holding his assault rifle at the ready.

‘Nick you stay here and cover the street, no one is to fire inside that compound…we are not blowing any more tankers up,’ I call out as we move towards the gates with Dave taking the lead.

We pull the gates open and stand smiling at the sight of the solitary tanker parked up at the far end of the large parking area. The rest looks clear and the gate being locked is a good sign of nothing being in here.

‘Hope it’s full,’ Cookey says quietly.

‘It’ll be locked, the keys must be in that building,’ Blowers nods his head towards the single story squat building at the back of the compound.

We head over and wait while Clarence sizes the door up and starts giving it big hefty kicks, watching by a grinning Cookey. The solid door takes some battering before finally relenting and busting open by which point Clarence is bright red in the face and getting angry.

‘Nice and cool in here,’ Blowers shouts from inside. The rest of us slip in through the ruined doorway. The windows have blinds covering them and the thick walls have prevented the heat from building up. The air is stale and musty but decidedly cooler than outside.

We all breathe a sigh of relief and wait while the two lads toss the office searching for the keys.

‘Yes!’ Cookey exclaims as he opens a desk drawer, he pulls out a packet of hobnob biscuits and grins over, ‘bloody love hobnobs.’

‘You love knobs,’ Blowers mutters, ‘got ‘em,’ he adds picking a set of keys up.

‘Dirty bastard,’ Cookey chuckles, he pulls a glossy magazine out of the drawer and holds it up. A picture of a busty woman on the front with two big yellow covered stars covering her nipples. ‘Who has a wank in their office?’ He laughs.

‘Here, you need these?’ Blowers throws a box of tissues at Cookey.

‘Yeah. Is there a toilet,’ Cookey quips.

‘Come on,’ I laugh. Blowers throws the keys over. Outside we cross the hot parking area towards the tanker. I unlock the door and climb up, gasping at the heat inside the cab.

‘Fingers crossed,’ Clarence starts checking the dials inside, waiting for me to turn the ignition on so they give a correct reading, ‘with any luck it would have loaded up before coming back so it was ready for deliveries on Saturday morning…YES!’ He shouts, making us all jump.

‘Is it full?’ Lani shouts from outside.

‘To the top,’ Clarence replies. The mood lifts instantly as we break out in big grins, giving cheers.

‘Well done Lilly,’ I shout to the girl, ‘brilliant mate, great idea.’

‘Cracking,’ Clarence grins at the girl, ‘well done.’

She smiles back as the others all say the same thing. She doesn't know the importance of the fuel to us, we’ve explained about Meredith but the full impact can’t be the same to her as it is to us.

‘You driving this back?’ I ask Clarence.

He nods, still grinning as sweat runs down his bald head.

‘Take one of the lads with you.’

‘I’ll go,’ Cookey shouts.

‘No,’ Clarence groans, ‘only joking, get in then,’ he adds at seeing the lad looking crestfallen, ‘but no silly bloody jokes.’

‘Yeah…you love my jokes,’ Cookey beams.

The rest of us cross over the yard and load up, switching the air con on for a few minutes to bring the heat down. I pull the Saxon out once Clarence has the tanker moving, going back up the road as we navigate our way through the town back onto the motorway.

‘That went well in the end,’ I say to Dave sat in the front with me.

‘It did Mr Howie.’

‘So that’s two refineries you’ve blown up now.’

‘Yes.’

‘Was this one bigger?’

‘Sort of, the other one was more modern and produced more oil but was smaller in size…’

‘Was it in the middle east?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why did you have to blow it up?’

‘I was told to.’

‘Why did they ask you?’

‘Because I’m good at blowing things up.’

‘No I mean why did they want it blown up.’

‘Oh…I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know?’

‘No, they never said.’

‘So they just asked you to blow it up and you did, without asking why?’

‘Yes.’

‘Dave, did you ever…like…assassinate anyone?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh yeah you blew that cow up to kill the cow herder.’

‘Yes.’

‘Anyone else?’

‘Yes.’

‘Who?’ I expect him to say he can’t really say, he pauses for a second as though in thought.

‘Five politicians, four generals, two colonels, one doctor, three engineers, then another doctor, then two more politicians…’

‘Hang on…You said five politicians…did you forget about the other two?’

‘No I was going in order.’

‘Oh…were they all at once…the five I mean?’

‘Yes.’

‘How did you do it.’

‘Car bomb.’

‘Shit…then four generals, where they together?’

‘No, one at a time in a set order.’

‘Fucking hell mate…You killed doctors? You can’t kill doctors.’

‘You can…I did.’

‘Why doctors? What did they do?’

‘They were informants, leaking information about our covert operations.’

‘How the fuck did they know about our covert operations?’

‘They worked for us, they were army doctors.’

‘Shit no way…how did you kill them?’

‘I drowned one in his shower and the other…’

‘In his shower?’

‘Yes.’

‘How do you drown someone in a shower?’

‘I put the shower head in his mouth.’

‘Oh…yeah course…’

‘And the other I blew up.’

‘How did you blow him up? Another car bomb?’

‘No, I sellotaped a grenade to the head and pulled the pin.’

‘Fucking hell Dave…you can’t do shit like that…isn’t that like torture or something.’

‘The information that was leaked caused a covert team to get compromised, they were tortured and put to death.’

‘Hmmm, fair enough then I guess.’

‘We’re they all men? Did you have rules like no women and no children?’

‘No.’

‘Which one no? No they weren’t all men or no you didn’t have rules?’

‘Both, they weren’t all men and no I didn’t have rules…children are never targeted though.’

‘But you killed women?’

‘Yes.’

‘How did you kill them?’

‘I just told you, I sellotaped a grenade to her head.’

‘Her? Oh she was a female doctor?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you ever refuse to do one?’

‘No…I didn’t refuse but a few I couldn’t complete, one of them had children with him all the time and I couldn’t get to him without hurting the children.’

‘So you left it?’

‘Yes, I was told to.’

‘Would you have done it if you hadn’t been told to?’

‘I would have found a way.’

‘Have you ever been shot?’

‘No, shot at but never shot.’

‘Captured?’

‘Once.’

‘What happened then?’

‘I got away.’

‘How did you get away?’

‘I walked.’

‘No…’ this can be hard work sometimes, ‘like how did you do the getting away…?’

‘Oh…I killed them.’

‘How many?’

‘Eight.’

‘Fuck! You are shitting me…’

‘No.’

‘In one go? You killed eight in one go?’

‘Yes.’

‘Mate, you’re like Liam Neeson in that film when his daughter gets taken…’

‘Taken.’

‘Yeah that’s what I said…she gets taken.’

‘The film…it’s called Taken.’

‘Oh right…yeah it is.’

‘You mentioned it before.’

‘I hope you never become a zombie…we’d be fucked,’ I look at him in awe. The fact that he’s so normal about it, well as normal as Dave can be is the striking thing. Poker faced and devoid of expression.

‘I’d shoot myself in the brain if I got bit,’ he replies.

‘No offence but I’d shoot you in the brain if you get bit…and I’d keep on shooting…and then still leg it at as fast as I could while throwing grenades at you, you’d be like some super cyborg zombie like the terminator…just refusing to die.’

I twist round to check the others, forgetting for a second that Clarence and Cookey are in the tanker and wondering why it’s so quiet. Blowers is stretched out on one bench with his eyes closed while Lani and Lillian sit talking quietly on the other one.

‘How did she take to the shooting?’ I ask Dave.

‘Good,’ he nods, ‘she’s very angry, it’s in her eyes and the way she holds the rifle.’

‘Can’t blame her.’

He doesn't reply but stares out of the window. On the motorway now with the green fields on either side and the tanker behind us.

‘I wonder if Clarence has punched Cookey yet.’

‘He likes Alex, we all do.’

‘Bloody hell mate, did you just admit to liking someone?’

‘Yes. I like all of them.’

‘Christ, your becoming more human everyday…I don’t know what’s happened to you Dave! You’re just not the man I met…’

‘Sorry,’ he replies with a wry grin which shocks me even more.

‘Maybe we’ll finally get some rest now they’ve got the fuel,’ I sigh deeply, settling back into the seat with a feeling of accomplishment.

‘Maybe Mr Howie.’

‘Hope so mate, we deserve it…that’s if Sergeant Hopewell hasn’t had us banned from going back in.'

We drive on in silence, gradually making our way back to the fort. Blowers snoozing from the warmth, Nick humming to himself up top while smoking. Lani and Lillian chatting quietly and the other two driving the full tanker of fuel behind us. Funny how things work out. If we hadn’t of gone to the refinery we’d never have met Lillian and then not found the tanker. Now here we are, driving back with the mission complete, and other than blowing up the country’s biggest refinery and causing a massive supernova mushroom cloud, and destroying miles of surrounding countryside and which also probably caused a tidal wave that flooded down the river…other than that it’s not been that bad.

Not too bad at all.

Thirty

‘You understand Debbie,’ Graham whines, ‘we really should have a multi-faith area where people can worship. After everything we’ve all been through, a quiet place to reflect will be good for the soul.’

‘I know Graham, I agree but apparently Lord high and mighty Howie said we can’t have one, and everyone has to do what Lord Howie says.’

‘He’s wrong,’ Graham says quietly, he watches the Sergeant closely, seeing the stress on her face, ‘you should be in charge here, you’re a sergeant and with the police….’

‘I know he’s bloody wrong,’ Sergeant Hopewell snaps, ‘and thank you for the vote of confidence, things would be run a great deal better if I was in charge I can tell you that.’

‘You’ve got our support, the whole congregation is behind you and not just the Christians either but all of us.’

‘Thank you Graham, you know…really we should be looking at a place of worship but getting them to give any ground up,’ she makes finger quote marks, ‘is impossible.’

‘What about outside?’ Graham persists.

‘We can’t go out the front, it’s too risky until we’ve got an alarm system in place.’

‘The back then?’ He asks.

‘The back? What out that door? There’s only a bit of ground there.’

‘That’s all we need, a quiet place to reflect and say our prayers, a non-denominational area for persons of faith to offer their prayers, and the ground is surrounded by water so there is really very little risk.’

Sergeant Hopewell stares across the fort to the back wall, remembering the small patch of ground they used when the women and children fled from the battle.

‘I don’t know Graham,’ she hesitates, the fort has to be kept secure, that’s the whole point. But then he did just say his group pledge their support to her, and if she can get enough supporters then asking Howie and his group to leave will be easy. Get rid of them and get back to things being run how they should, with committee’s and meetings. The right people in the right roles, and everything being over-seen by her. ‘Let me have a think about it.’

‘There’s a lot of us,’ Graham offers discretely, ‘and we all have families and the people living near to us…we can muster a lot of support should you need it when you decide to take leadership.’ Graham lets the words sink in. For days Graham had been promising a place of worship and is aware that some of the religions are starting to question his ability to lead them and make arrangements. Not being of any set religion himself, Graham found himself in a central position and able to walk amongst the different sects with ease. Now, they were waiting for the place of worship and he was under pressure to deliver it.

‘Okay,’ she nods, ‘leave it with me, I’ll try and get something worked out today.’

‘That’s great Debbie,’ he smiles and nods, ‘I know you’re busy but if you need any help just ask, there’s plenty of us willing to roll our sleeves up and muck in you know.’

‘I will, and thank you again for your support, it’ll be nice to know I can count on you when the time comes.’

‘Of course,’ he smiles once more and steps away, heading back towards the tents. Finding a place of worship will secure his position amongst the religions. Being in a central organisational role was important to Graham, it gave him a sense of responsibility. Going back now and saying he’s secured a place would be great, but going back and saying that he not only may have secured a place but he’s already scouted it out…that would be better, far better.

He deviates his route, heading towards the back door, lost in thought of having all the religious people staring at him as he delivers the good news. Of course this has taken me some very careful negotiations and putting pressure on the right people at the top, but you all know me…ready to sacrifice myself for your good causes and never one to back down, so I’ve got us a special place where only the people of faith can go. Of course I will be administrating the area to ensure fair play and smooth running…he smiles to himself, knowing how good he’ll look.

And even better was that it was right at the water’s edge, he should introduce some kind of water cleansing ritual. Something that would get those religious girls into the water wearing flimsy t shirts with their breasts poking through. Yeah, like those girls from the internet at the wet t-shirt competitions. He licks his lips at the thought of holding them steady while they dunk down under the purifying water. Staring down at the long thighs, he might even be able to touch one, you know…if the girl slipped or something.

He wasn’t a pervert. He knew he wasn’t a pervert. He never looked at actual pornography, just the wet t-shirt competitions. He loved them. More than any other faith he loved girls in wet t shirts. Damn he missed the internet and could feel himself start to grow.

Graham wasn’t an ugly man, and knew that several of the women liked him. But they were the frumpy fanatical types, shapeless and boring. No, he wanted the slim girls with the big boobs and the tattoo’s on their lower back. And those hip hop girls that made their bottoms bounce, they were good too, but getting the girls to bounce their backsides might be quite hard, where-as getting them into the water shouldn’t be too difficult.

He could do one on one spiritual cleansing sessions. That would do it. He’d have to do the men too but they would be done quickly, in and out. In fact, the men could be done in groups and the women in private, you know, to give them some privacy and decency. That back area with the high wall and the single gate would be perfect.

Buoyed up and excited he made his way to the back wall, smiling and grinning at the people as he passed them. Especially the girls. This hot weather was making them strip down to the barest of clothes, and some…some were even walking around in just bra’s and shorts. They look hot, maybe he should drag a hose out and start showering himself off in view, encourage them to do the same.

The back first. Check the back and get the news to the others, then maybe look at getting a hose out. His own hose was starting to bulge so he quickened his pace, marching to the back gate.

In dismay he spots the guard stood there holding a shotgun, leaning against the wall while smoking a cigarette. He snorts in frustration, he needs to be somewhere private. The growing strain in his pants is starting to hurt.

‘Hi,’ he smiles at the guard, holding his hand out, ‘I’m Graham, I’m on the main committee for the fort, you know…trying to get everything organised,’ he rolls his eyes and smiles.

‘Er…hello,’ the guard replies, an older man with thinning hair and a paunch.

‘How’s it going here?’

‘S’alright,’ the man replies, ‘bleedin’ hot though…and my feet are killin’ me.’

‘Poor chap,’ Graham makes a sad face, ‘well I’ve come to check the back area, we’re thinking of putting it to use, I just spoke to Sergeant Hopewell and agreed I’d come check it out…’

‘Ted said no one was to go in or out without him or Chris saying anything.’

‘Ah Ted, great chap, really good chap and a good friend of mine. Yeah he does have those instructions but I think something got lost in translation. He means unless told by anyone from the main committee.’

‘He definitely said just ‘im and Chris.’

Damn this man, Graham smiles knowingly, ‘Also gives you a chance to take a break, get something to drink…hey you should get one of the hoses out and wash your hot feet off, I’ll be here keeping watch until you get back.’

The man shuffles, looking down at his feet. The thought of running cold water over them is too tempting to resist, ‘yeah…well, you sure like? You know I don’t wanna get in trouble or nuffin.’

‘Don’t be silly, fine man like you needs a break…I just spoke with Sergeant Hopewell and she’s in overall charge here anyway, go on…get yourself a sit down in the shade for fifteen minutes.’

‘Alright, ‘ere, you want this?’ The man holds the shotgun out.

‘Er…yeah okay,’ Graham has never fired a gun in his life, but now realises that if the guard thinks the gate is protected he will relax better and give him time to relieve himself. He takes the shotgun, surprised at the weight.

‘Right, be fifteen then,’ the man starts to walk off.

‘No need to be exact, take longer if you want,’ Graham calls after him. He waits for a second before turning to pull the bolts back on the gate. Dirty big solid bolts that he struggles to pull back, then a big key left in the lock.

With the shotgun resting against the wall he finally gets all the bolts and locks undone, pushing the thick solid wooden gate open and stepping through. The sight of the water finishes him off, just the image of the wet water, the same wet water that will soak those tops and make the material see through.

Groaning with anticipation he steps out and pushes the gate closed with his foot, taking a step back to prevent anyone from pushing it open. With his eyes fixed on the water he dreamily unzips his trousers and pulls his engorged penis out. The sudden release of the confinement excites him even more, as does the feeling of the open air on his member. His hand starts working the shaft as he stares out at the sea. His mind full of images of gorgeous girls all wearing white t shirts and rising slowly up from the water to reveal their nipples straining against the sodden material. He groans audibly as he hand works faster, putting himself in the middle of the image, of all those girls draping over him and pressing those wet t shirts against his bare chest.

His eyes flutter closed as he nears climax, the first climax he’s had in days. Other than the quick one he had in the toilets of the visitor centre the other night, and that was ruined by some rude man banging on the door and telling him to hurry up.

Ah there it is, the climax building up. The sensation at the back of his balls that starts to tingle just before ejaculation. The image builds to a crescendo, the girls slowly peeling those tops off to reveal their pink and brown nipples….no…no good, they have to be wearing the tops.

‘Put them back on,’ he whispers to himself, the girls do as told, pulling the tops back down to show the sodden look. The orgasm builds slowly, threatening to make his legs go weak. This is going to be a good one. Several days of being trapped inside all waiting to be released.

‘You dirty motherfucker,’ a deep voice growls in his ear, the hot breath tickling the back of his neck. Graham freezes mid stroke, right at the point of orgasm, with the semen dripping from the tip of his penis.

‘You are one fucked up motherfucker,’ the voice growls again, an immensely deep voice with a strong accent. Graham’s life flashes before his eyes. Not for one second thinking he is in danger, but that someone has caught him wanking and will tell everyone.

He screws his eyes shut, his dick now limp in his hands as the goo drips from his still clenched fist.

‘I’m gonna bite the fuck out of you….but don’t be thinking for one goddam second I’m gonna enjoy it.’ Strong hands grip Graham, pulling him back. He goes to scream but finds a very large rough hand clamped firmly over his mouth.

He squirms desperately as he feels teeth brushing against his neck, the pressure gets harder as they start to bite. His flesh tearing as the mouth bites down. Pain sears through his neck, burning as he struggles in vain. The mouth releases but the pain continues. Spreading through his whole body.

Within seconds another pain is flaring deep in his stomach, a wrenching churning feeling that causes his legs to give out. The strong arms hold him in place, the hand still firmly over his mouth.

Graham squirms and bucks, his penis flopping about as his body writhes. He feels his heart beating slower and slower. The sensation of sickness through every part of his body. His vision starts to go, darkness creeping in from the edges. Dark, everything black. Just his mind is left. A mind only too aware of what’s happening.

His heart stops and Graham dies. Going limp in the arms of a disgusted looking Randall who looks down over his shoulder at the flaccid member dangling away.

‘Put that think back in his pants,’ he whispers to Colin.

‘Me?’ Colin blanches, blinking his red bloodshot eyes.

‘Yeah you…put that fucking thing away, man ain’t got no decency dying with his dick hanging out.’

‘I ain't touching his wotsit Randy, it’s still dribblin’.’

‘Put that mother-fucking thing away now you dumb-ass retard,’ Randall snaps. Colin flinches from the ferocity of the larger man, bending over to wince as he gently grips the thing and pushes it back into the dead man’s pants.

‘Don’t fucking play with it, you queer motherfucker,’ Randall adds with an evil smile.

Graham starts the return, his body twitching slowly and building to the convulsions. Still gripped by Randall his body shudders until it goes still. The eyes opening to reveal the red bloodshot gaze.

‘He’s one of us,’ Colin nods as he leans round to look at Graham’s face. Randall lets him go, physically turning the man round to stare into the red eyes, taking in the slack jawed appearance.

‘Close your fucking mouth, you look like a retarded motherfucker.’ Graham does as told, closing his mouth with a smacking noise.

Randall steps to the door and cracks it open enough to peer through quickly. Nodding he pushes it to and moves back to Graham.

‘You go back in, go deep…right in the middle of those motherfuckers, keep your fucking head down and when we go in you start biting every motherfucker you can get…you understand?’

Graham nods back dumbly, his eyes staring at Randall with a look of love and awe. Randall turns to another of his men, ‘you go after him, and go left, ain’t no motherfucker there right now…head down and walk natural, make it look like you lost something and get as far as you can.’

The two men slip inside. Those looking in that direction simply see the familiar form of Graham walking with another man, both of them looking for something on the ground. The men separate and walk opposite directions, Graham heading into the densely populated tent city while the inmate skirts the inside of the wall.

Randall watches through the crack in the door as they disappear from sight, his intelligent eyes ablaze with the thought of what’s to come. Spying the shotgun leaning against the wall he quickly reaches in and grabs it, thrusting into the arms of another inmate.

‘You gonna be one of their guards, hold it across your body and go down the middle…keep your fucking eyes down like you checking the gun or somethin’.’ The man holds the weapon across the crook of his arms, like any normal guard strolling about. After checking the area is clear Randall gets the man inside, watching through the gap as the man assumes the role of camp guard and steadily walks down the middle of the camp, one of his hands fiddling with the breech of his gun that he stares down at.

Three inside and every second they get deeper amongst the dumb motherfuckers. Randall darts back at seeing a woman looking at the gate, a puzzled frown on her face at seeing it slightly open. She walks towards it, peering intently and looking round for the guard that should be here.

Randall grabs Colin, turning him so his back is to the gate and making him stand like he’s having a piss. The gate pushes open, the woman tutting at seeing the back of the man stood urinating into the sea.

‘That’s gross,’ she chuckles, ‘couldn’t you wait.’

‘Sorry,’ Colin says without looking round, ‘I was bursting…don’t tell anyone will you.’

‘Nah you’re alright, looks nice out there.’

‘Have a look,’ Colin turns round, keeping his head down as he pretends to be fiddling with the zipper on his trousers.

She steps out, her eyes staring at the shimmering stillness of the water, the openness of the sea captivating her after days of being locked inside. Hands grab and pull her to the side. Harry holding her tight as Randall moves back to the gate.

With her mouth covered and the bear like man holding her there is nothing she can do to stop from being lifted bodily of the ground like a rag doll. Another inmate moves in, pulling her skirt up to reveal an expanse of thigh. He bites quickly, tearing at the flesh and holding his mouth over the wound. She bucks and squirms but like Graham her resistance is futile and the inevitable happens.

Two minutes later and she’s stood on the ground as Colin washes the blood from her leg and marvels at how quickly the wound clots.

Randall sends her back inside with the same instruction to keep her fucking head down. She does as told, slipping into the fort and walking straight into the living quarters of the many refugees.

Looking at the outline of the guards on the wall at the far end and the distinct shape of the long barrelled weapons they hold, Randall senses they could still be in danger. There could be guards on all sides, ready to fire down into the crowds if anything happens.

What he needs is a distraction. A big mother-fucking distraction that will buy them a few seconds to run in and get deep within the crowds.

They say the devil takes care of his own. The old adage comes true as the distraction is freely given.

To the west, far in the distance a huge explosion takes place. A deep rumbling sound that rolls over the open water with a sound like thunder from a summer storm. All activity in the fort ceases as the strange sound fills the air. Every guard on the walls, at a height advantage from those on ground level, stare across at the plume of flame and smoke scorching up into the air. The distance is great but even from here they can tell the explosion must be huge.

Those with local knowledge know it must be the refinery. That site being the only thing in that direction and area that could cause such a detonation.

Randall grins with disbelief and gets ready to run inside. The disbelief grows as the survivors closest to the gate, seeing it open, head towards it, running out the back to stare across the sea at the fireball in the distant sky.

The first couple give only a brief glance at the men already stood there, the spectacle in the distance too wondrous to look away from. Thick crowds pour out of the gate, standing packed on the little shore.

Randall and his inmates stand quietly, all of them shielding their eyes as though to protect against the glare of the sun. They shuffle into the crowd, gently jostling to get within the ranks.

‘Get back inside and lock that gate,’ someone shouts from inside the fort.  Ted appears at the gate wearing his police uniform with his flat cap tucked on. ‘Come on, we can’t have this gate open…’ He urges the people back inside, swapping comments about how it must be the refinery going up from the heat and the safety procedures failing.

Randall keeps his head down, knowing how distinctive he looks. He sinks his shoulders and rubs at his face, flanked by some of the larger inmates he slips inside with the crowd. All of the inmates moving with the mass as they stroll back towards the tents, chatting excitedly to the others about what they’d seen outside.

Ted, shaking his head with annoyance at where the bloody guard has gone and intending to rip him a new arsehole slams the gate closed, rams the bolts home and turns the key.

Randall glances back, his men are spread out. Deep within the confines of the fort. Locked in. Sealed.

And so it begins.

Thirty-One

Marcy stands in the street with her small carefully chosen group clustered round her. Reginald, April, Mildred and Jerry. A small non-threatening group of undead chosen exactly for the way they look and their gentle manner.

‘They’re all inside the houses,’ April reports.

Marcy looks back down the street at the large detached beachside houses with their pastel coloured wooden fronts. The horde all out of sight inside, sheltering from the sun and taking it in turns to drink from the cold water taps.

The decision to leave them here was contested, as usual, by Reginald, with him arguing that it wasn’t safe for Marcy to be so exposed and unprotected. Marcy countered that they couldn’t approach the fort with such a large number of zombies. To which Reginald countered that they were not zombies but living challenged and surely there must be somewhere closer they could be hidden.

‘And what if we fail? What then? What will they do without their leader?’ Reginald had protested, knowing it was his final attempt to dissuade her.

‘Another leader will surely present themselves and do things how they see fit,’ she replied, ‘it won’t matter for us…we’ll be dead.’ She knew the comment would upset him and watched with a mischievous grin as he shuddered.

‘Maybe I should stay here and keep watch then,’ he feebly attempted to get himself out of any potential danger.

‘Reggie, I will not order you to come with me, nor will I make you…but I want you to come of your own choosing.’

He squirmed for a minute, already knowing what his answer would be but just delaying the inevitable. Finally he sagged, sighing dramatically, ‘you know full well I’ll come with you.’

‘Thank you Reggie,’ she said with genuine sincerity.

They set off, walking round the large bay to head towards the spit of land. Nervous excitement builds in her stomach, the same conflicting internal arguments grow as both sides forcefully put their points across.

This is suicide. We’ll be shot on sight, slaughtered before we get anywhere near the place. They’ll torture us and burn the bodies. We should get more hosts, turn more and increase the numbers. March with a massed army and then try the negotiations, if it fails we can attack and turn them. Sneak inside and turn them with stealth and cunning. Find another way. This is wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

No, this is the right thing to do. The infection must evolve to survive, and that means our species has to evolve. We cannot survive on our own. We need to harness the good of our kind, the resistance to disease and pain and couple it with the intelligence and ability to learn the humans have. Only by combining our strengths can we survive. We take away their thirst for violence and control, we remove the greed and jealousy. A perfect blend creating a perfect being. No war, no starvation or famine, no suffering.

But we are the better species. They do not deserve what we have. Don’t share what we are, make them us. They will use it to further their twisted aims.

Neither is the better species. We must combine and integrate. The better species will be created from both of us. If we carry on then we run a real risk of both species dying out.

And so it continues. She walks in silence, feeling the scorching heat from the sun on her bare arms. Her skin continues to tan; the infection having drawn back as much as possible leaves her body still functioning in much the normal manner. Her long raven hair sways as she walks; her slender tanned arms swing gentle with the rhythm of her movement. Full pink lips part to lick the beads of sweat forming on her upper lip. Her hand moves without conscious thought to her backside, fingers gently brushing the bite mark that Darren left.

Sweat runs down her face, gently sliding over her jawline and down her slender neck. She shivers from the sensation and feels as the sweat follows the natural contours of her body.

They skirt the bay, keeping back from the shore line and sticking to the inner roads. All the time heading closer and closer to the fort. The big bastion that stands proud and defiant at the end of the spit of land. Sheer walls of grey concrete.

As she gains glimpses of the land she looks at the sweeping flatlands and imagines Darren there with his mighty army, getting destroyed by the few good men that opposed them.

The bravery of Howie is clear. That he chose to fight back instead of running and hiding. She saw glimpses of him on the Isle of Wight. Always one step ahead and she felt the power coming from him when he fought single handed on the stairwell of the church tower. She felt the fear of the hosts as they charged at him.

Still he spoke with kindness and respect, still he was polite and offered her a way out. Inviting her to come with them. But she was under Darren’s spell then, and without the ability to think like she does now. If only she had taken that offer and simply walked up those steps. Would it have changed the outcome or did all those things need to happen?

And at the end when he looked down on the dying form of Darren. Stood there so proud and true. He could have tortured Darren and made him suffer. But he didn’t, he acted with grace and decency.

Everything hinges on him. If she can just make contact with Howie and make him see through her eyes. Make him realise there is another way.

They reach the edge of the ruined estate, looking aghast the blackened surroundings with stumps of scorched brick walls. Vehicles melted into the twisted surface of the ground. The stench of death invades the air. High piles of bodies, stacked deep and wide and left to fester in the sun. Swathes of insects rise and fall from the corpses, generating a loud and sustained buzzing sound.

The small group pick their way through the mess, gaining the central road now cleared of debris with fresh tyre tracks running through it.

As one they stop and look to the sky, reacting to the deep roll of thunder that rolls across the sea. Puzzled faces stare up at the cloudless heavens. A slight tremor beneath their feet, coming from the ground itself. They glance around in alarm, fearing an earthquake.

‘There,’ Reginald points to the west at the thick plume of bright orange flames that sear high into the air. Dirty black clouds spume from the flames, creating a distinctive mushroom shape, like the television footage of nuclear bombs being detonated.

‘Must be Fawley,’ Reginald adds in a quiet voice.

‘Fawley?’ Marcy asks.

‘Oil refinery, just outside Southampton.’

‘Oh,’ she replies, staring in wonder at the sight. Even from this vast distance the fireball looks huge. Up close it must be dreadful, terrifying even.

‘Ominous,’ Reginald remarks.

Marcy smiles at his clear nerves, looking down as he nervously taps his hand against his leg.

‘It’s miles away, nothing to do with this,’ she replies.

They set off, working down the central rutted road and out into the flatlands. The fort in the distance but getting closer with every step they take.

Thirty-Two

She stands by his side watching the hundreds of interactions that take place all around. People everywhere and the smells they produce are fascinating. Far stronger than when she lived in the den with the pack. The scent of cooking, unwashed bodies, faeces and urine, blood and vomit. The loss of her little one still weighs on her soul. She felt stronger when she was with the new pack. Fighting with them and being with them seemed right and natural. Now they are gone too and she has this man.

He has strong energy and is a leader. She senses this and accepts that she is to stay with him, moving where he moves, going where he goes, standing when he stands. She doesn't mind this as plenty of people rub her ears and head which she likes, and the man keeps offering her water to drink and food to eat.

She stares down at the ground, sensing the rumble before hearing it. Her head cocks to one side as she feels a change in air pressure. The rumble comes, like the noise that is made when the water falls from the sky and the sharp lights spark everywhere. The people around her all stop and listen, feeling the tremor from the ground.

She senses the fear increase in the people as they rush to the far side trying to see over the wall, they run to the front and back, climbing the slopes to get higher.

The man runs through them, heading towards the hill that goes to the top. She runs easily by his side, her long legs striding gracefully as her pink tongue hangs down, bouncing out the side of her mouth.

The man makes noise and the people move out of his way. His status of pack leader is strong here. All the people stop and stare across the sky. She can smell burning but it’s from far away and not a threat to them.

The people make noise to each other. The noise gets louder and faster as their excitement grows. A sense of unease comes over the man. She feels his hand stroke the tops of her ears, something she’s become accustomed to just in this day.

Chris stares at the fireball, knowing in the pit of his stomach that Howie and his team will be involved. The deep worry lines increase as he scans the horizon as though seeking some sign that they’re alive. Dave and Clarence will keep them alive. Both of those men would sacrifice themselves for Howie, but then so would he.

Howie has a rare ability, something so seldom seen it beggars belief. The way he captivates people and gets them on side. That funny self-depreciating manner that erupts into passionate fury, but done in a way that doesn't scare people, it doesn't intimidate; it brings his words home with a deep poignancy. All of those that stood close to Howie on the field that day feel it. All of them that felt the power pour from the man. The way the things wilted from him. At that point he was undefeatable and the pure energy of the man was like something never seen before.

More than anything, Howie and the dog have to survive. Chris feels it deep within his soul. Knowing that Clarence and Dave both feel the same gives some comfort at the sight of the fireball. The whole area must have gone and he shakes his head at the power and destruction being wrought in that place.

With a sigh he turns away, spotting Ted at the far side of the fort ushering a group of survivors back through the gate. Silly buggers must have gone out for a better view, at least the rear should be safe with that small beach and the deep water.

He looks out over the wall, to the estate in the distance and thinks of the bodies stacking up, then down at the dog stood patiently next to him.

‘Let’s hope they got that fuel eh?’ She looks up at him with a big doggy grin, blinking her big brown eyes. Chris watches as her head snaps to look back inside the fort. Ears pricked and eyes set. She sniffs the air, smelling them. Scenting them amongst the people.

She makes noise.

‘You’ve fractured your elbow,’ Doctor Roberts looks down at the man sat on the chair in the examining room, ‘normally we’d put it in plaster, but we do not have plaster. Normally we’d give you strong painkillers, but we cannot spare them either…so a good old fashioned sling it will be and we’ll get you some Paracetamol and Ibuprofen.’

‘Is that it?’ The man winces as Doctor James starts to apply the sling round his neck, drawing it tight to lift and hold the arm into the body.

‘Afraid so,’ Doctor Roberts replies, his bushy eyebrows dropping to a deep frown, ‘we’ve got far worse cases that need the strong stuff.’

‘But it’s bloody killing me.’

‘Oh don’t whine, I hate whiners…would you rather we amputate it?’

‘What?’ The man looks up with shock.

‘Amputate it?’ Doctor Roberts barks, ‘cut it off man! We can do that if it makes you feel better!’

‘No,’ the man gasps, ‘I don’t…you said it was only a fracture…’

‘Well then stop your bloody moaning and bugger off, we’ve got other patients to see.’

The man stands up, looking in horror at the fierce doctor. He turns to look at the other doctor who just shrugs and smiles.

‘Nice work Doctor James,’ Doctor Roberts says as the man scurries out.

‘Thank you Doctor Roberts,’ he smiles, ‘you know he’ll be in agony with that elbow.’

‘Yes I know,’ Doctor Roberts says with a deep sigh, ‘poor blighter…still there’s always someone worse off wouldn’t you say?’

‘Yes Doctor Roberts,’ Doctor James smiles. Having worked with Doctor Roberts for long enough, he knows the man is one of the most skilled doctors he’s ever worked with, and although his bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired his compassion knows no bounds.

He follows the older doctor through to the adhoc hospital room crammed with an assortment of beds and mattresses, all of them filled with the worst cases.

They ignore the first few and head straight towards a bed on the right. Both doctors nod respectfully at the worried looking man sat next to the bed holding the hand of the young pale looking boy.

‘How are you feeling?’ Doctor Roberts asks in a deep soft voice. He bends closer to the boy and rests a hand on his head, smiling at the young face.

‘It hurts a bit,’ the boy says quietly.

‘I bet it does,’ Doctor Roberts replies, ‘but you are being so very brave, and I would say,’ he leans in closer to whisper, ‘you’re the bravest patient we’ve got in here…wouldn’t you agree Doctor James?’

‘Definitely without doubt,’ Doctor James says with a wink. The man in the next bed looks over and smiles, nodding his head.

‘Now I’m just going to check, so you stay still and carry on being the bravest boy I have ever met,’ Doctor Roberts pulls the thin sheet back to reveal the boys pale body. He gently eases the dressing away and examines the stitches from the incision made to remove the boys burst appendix. The wound looks clean and healthy, resulting in a warm smile at the boy. ‘Very good, very good indeed…you’ll be up on your feet in no time at all, out there playing in the sun and causing more mischief no doubt.’

‘I like it here,’ the boy says, ‘it’s quieter than outside…’

‘I’m sure you do,’ Doctor Roberts tussles the boys hair giving him another big grin. ‘I’ll come back and check on you in a little while.’

‘Thanks Doctor,’ the man says with real meaning, he stands up respectfully as the doctors leave the bed.

‘Any news on the fuel?’ Doctor Roberts asks.

‘Not yet, Howie’s still out I think,’ Doctor James replies.

‘That bloody Sergeant was in here again earlier, talking nonsense to the patients…I gave her what for and sent her packing,’ Doctor Roberts speaks quietly as he strides down the room.

‘Very worrying, we may have to step in if it gets much worse,’ Doctor James says, hurrying after him again.

‘Yes…yes…keep an eye on her, Chris has already been in asking if we’d speak with her.’

‘I think we should,’ Doctor James says with a hard tone.

‘Well we can’t section her…and we don’t have any sedatives to spare…hmmm, but then it’s a clear cut case of mental incapacity so we’ll have to do something.’

‘Maybe we should just talk to her quietly first, the two of us…we can have Chris nearby if…well in case he’s needed,’ Doctor James suggests.

‘Agreed, get that Ted chap too, she listens to him. Find somewhere private and quiet, we don’t want to humiliate the poor woman.’

‘Okay Doctor, leave it with me…I’ll send someone for you when we’re ready.’ Doctor James walks off, his own white lab coat flapping at his knees. Doctor Roberts stands quiet for a second, thinking of the best way to approach the subject. It’s been a long time since he had anything to do with this kind of thing.

He glances up at the deep rumble of thunder before walking out the front of the examination tent to stare up at the clear sky.

‘What was that?’ He asks Doctor James stood a few metres away and also staring up at the sky.

‘No idea,’ he replies.

‘Bugger it, I hope they aren’t blowing something else up,’ Doctor Roberts tuts and walks back inside.

‘More work for us if they do,’ Doctor James mutters as he walks on.

‘What the bloody hell are you lot doing down here?’ Kelly snaps as she walks into the workshop to find the small group of engineers sat round drinking tea.

‘What?’ One of the engineers jumps up looking guilty.

‘You should be up the top fixing that gun in place,’ she walks towards them with a scowl.

‘They said not to, that sergeant lady came up and said they were moving it.’

‘They? Who are they?’ Kelly asks with a confused look.

‘I dunno, she just said there was some experts that were deciding where to put it,’ the man says defensively.

‘The experts did decide where to put it…which is on that bloody wall where I showed you. How long have you been in here?’ She moves to the carrier bag used as the makeshift bin, ‘quite a while by the looks of all these teabags in here…and where did you get biscuits from?’ She fishes the empty pack out, holding it up while staring with an accusing look.

‘The sergeant gave ‘em to us,’ the man mutters weakly knowing they’ve been caught red handed.

‘Did she now?’ Kelly asks slowly, ‘and that was at the same time as she suggested not fixing the gun in place was it?...Was it?’ She asks louder.

‘Yes,’ the men nod, looking at their feet with a sense of shame.

‘Right, well from now on…you do not take any orders or instructions from Sergeant Hopewell, if you are in doubt you ask me or Chris…got it?’

‘Yes Kelly,’ the men murmur.

‘Good, now…did you eat all the biscuits or did you leave any for me?’ She softens her tone knowing when to ease back, after all, they were just following instruction from Debbie.

The men grin, holding up a chipped plate with a small stack of digestives piled up.

‘Well get the kettle on then…I’m gasping for a brew,’ she smiles taking a seat and groaning from taking the weight off her feet for the first time in hours.

‘How’s the alarm?’ One of the men asks, more relaxed now their fearsome boss was sitting down and doing something mortal like eating a biscuit.

‘Okay,’ she nods, holding her hand over her mouth to prevent biscuit crumbs from flying out, ‘should be done in an hour or so.’

‘Bloody hell….what’s that?’ The men all stare towards the open door, then back at Kelly as though expecting her to know.

She shrugs, shaking her head as they all move quickly outside. The deep rumble fills the air and a slight tremble in the ground vibrates through their feet.

‘Ain’t thunder,’ one of them remarks.

‘Earthquake?’ Another asks.

They stay near the door. Their expert eyes watching for any signs of movement from the structures. Scanning the walls, tents and the visitors centre.

‘What was it?’ One of them shouts to someone up on the top of the inner wall.

‘Fawley by the looks of it…must have gone up,’ the man shouts down.

‘Fawley? Bloody hell, I used to work there,’ one of the men mutters.

‘Didn’t you do a stint there Kelly?’

‘Only for a few months, contracted in for a job,’ she replies, ‘big site though…I wouldn’t want to be near it right now.’

‘Luckily we ain’t,’ another engineer adds softly.

Sarah sits quietly at the desk, reading through yesterday’s admissions to the fort and checking the job skills. The engineers have enough people for now, the cooks are doing well. Cleaners are what they need. People to move amongst the tents and remove the litter and debris building up. Oh and more guards, always more guards, and of course medically trained people.

She admires the detail entered on the sheets by Terri and Jane. The clear handwritten notes of any skills or training the refugees have, with comments added to the top of the sheet for people with vital skills.

‘Hi Sarah,’ she looks up as Roger Hastings strolls into the room, ‘oooh it’s cooler in here,’ he says fanning his face with a hard backed note book.

‘Doesn't feel like it, it’s stifling.’

‘Better than being in that sun dear,’ he replies, ‘the tan is nice but it makes me wrinkly and I dread the day we run out of anti-wrinkle cream.’ Sarah laughs at his camp manner. ‘I think,’ he adds with a wink, ‘we should do our own raiding party, you know…we could get a pink vehicle and dress in pink fatigues and go on a beauty products raiding mission…the glam raiders,’ he says with his hands out front and fingers splayed wide.

‘I like it,’ Sarah laughs.

‘We could take Dave to protect us.’

‘I don’t think he’ll leave Howie’s side.’

‘Well they’ll all have to come with us, those big nasty brutes in their tough clothes looking all….all brutish.’ She laughs again as he increases the camp manner for her benefit. ‘Anyway…now what did I come in here for, other than to moan about the lack of moisturiser…oh yes, stores my dear…they’re getting somewhat large and we may have to consider moving them to another set of rooms.’

‘The stores? Are they running out of space already?’

‘Afraid so, that blasted lorry your brother brought back from the cash and carry has got it jammed to the rafters, plus all the little odd and sods the newbie’s are bringing in with them.’

‘Right,’ she sighs, ‘where can we put them?’

‘The visitor centre, it’s in the middle and easily accessible for everyone, there’s plenty of space in there that’s not being used, and it might help us ration our supply of toilet roll, they can get a supply before they go and do their dirty business.’

‘Good idea,’ she nods in agreement, ‘we could ask Kelly to get a big counter top made up to prevent people just walking in.’

‘And some shelving to keep everything off the floor.’

‘Okay, check with Chris, he’s about somewhere, if he’s happy with it then carry on and get it done.’

‘What about Sergeant Hopewell?’ Roger asks in a serious tone, the camp act dropped instantly.

‘Forget her, she’s getting worse and we can’t afford the delays.’

‘What was that?’ Terri asks walking into the room, she removes her hat and wipes the sweat from her forehead.

‘Roger suggested we use the visitor centre for stores, they’re running out of space where they are…’

‘They’ve ran out of space,’ Roger corrects her.

‘Yeah well anyway, so we can use the visitor centre. I said check with Chris and if he’s happy then go ahead and get it sorted.’

‘And I asked about Sergeant Hopewell,’ Roger adds.

Terri looks back at Sarah, the conflict clear on her face. Her loyalty to Debbie is obvious but even she can see the decline in her Sergeant’s behaviour. ‘Oh this is bloody awkward,’ she sits down heavily and stretches her legs out, ‘Debbie has always been a role model for me, seeing her like this is just horrible…it’s like she’s having a nervous breakdown or something, honestly…I really don’t know what to do.’

‘I think Chris has spoken with the doctors, they’re going to be speaking to her very soon,’ Sarah says quietly.

‘Ooohhh,’ Roger winces, ‘that won’t go down well.’

‘No,’ Terri agrees, ‘it won’t, what a mess,’ she shakes her head sadly.

‘Have you tried talking to her?’ Roger asks in a gentle tone.

‘Didn’t work,’ Terri replies quickly, ‘she just snapped and started on about loyalty and it being time to pick sides.’

‘Oh no, really? That’s awful,’ Sarah grimaces, ‘poor woman, I know she’s causing damage but I feel for her, I really do.’

‘We all do,’ Roger adds, ‘right well I’ll go check with Chris and get it underway, er…what do I say if she asks me what I’m doing?’

‘Tell the truth,’ Terri replies, ‘I can’t see how she’d get upset about something like that.’

‘Okay,’ Rogers says without confidence, ‘if you hear me scream please come and rescue me.’

The two women laugh, ‘Fancy a coffee?’ Terri asks.

‘Sounds lovely,’ Sarah smiles.

‘Ooh, why not, always got time for a coffee with the girls,’ Roger adds.

‘Any more newbies?’ Sarah asks, using the term coined by Roger for the new arrivals at the fort.

‘Couple this morning,’ Terri replies as she switches the little gas burner on and fills a battered saucepan with water from a bottle, ‘but nothing since…glad of the break if I’m honest, it’s bloody hot out there.’

‘Where’s Jane?’ Sarah asks.

‘She’s having a coffee with the guards, I think she fancies one of them…no…I know she fancies one of them,’ Terri laughs.

‘Oh really,’ Sarah smiles, ‘which one?’

‘That tall guy with the dark hair.’

‘Oh him, yeah he’s nice,’ Sarah nods.

‘Nice! He’s bloody lovely, tall, dark, handsome and he’s got a six pack and no,’ Roger pauses for effect, ‘…and no hairy back.’

‘Hairy back!’ Sarah bursts out laughing.

‘Trust me my dear, you get to my age and finding a man without a hairy back is very difficult,’ Roger gives it the full camp, simpering with delight.

‘Well, I think he likes her too, they keep chatting and I’ve noticed he keeps appearing on duty when she’s out there.’

‘Good for her,’ Sarah adds.

‘Lucky bitch,’ Roger snipes with a well-meaning smile, ‘oh that’s what I need, a big strong man to come and whisk me away from this awful place.’

‘Like Clarence?’ Terri asks with a raised eyebrow and a smirk at Sarah.

‘Ooh no dearie, he’s certainly got muscles on top of muscles but far too much of a brute for me.’

‘Well I don’t think someone here agrees with you,’ Terri smiles again.

‘Oh give it a rest, I think he’s lovely…he looks like a bear but he’s soft as a kitten really’ Sarah laughs easily.

‘So?’ Terri asks expectantly, Roger matching the gaze as they both look at Sarah.

‘So…’ Sarah grins, ‘what?’

‘You know full well what!’ Roger laughs, ‘so what’s he like…you know,’ he gives a theatrical wink, ‘what’s he like?’

‘And when exactly would that happen? He’s off with Howie killing zombies every five minutes.’

‘Ah, that’s sweet, a stolen romance in the midst of all the destruction, a snatched kiss under the moonlight…holding hands under the desk at the meetings,’ Terri says dramatically.

‘I wish,’ Sarah mutters with a roll of her eyes, ‘I think I’m competing with my own brother.’

‘Urgh that’s gross,’ Terri laughs.

‘Oh I don’t know,’ Roger gives a wry smile.

‘I didn’t mean it like that, I meant they all bloody adore him…how can a girl compete with that?’

‘Well, far be it for me to say anything,’ Roger raises his eyebrows, ‘but I can see why they adore him…that smouldering intensity, dark eyes…brooding and dark…does it for me!’

‘Do you mind,’ Sarah laughs, ‘that’s my brother.’

‘He might be your brother dearies but he’s certainly not mine,’ Roger laughs.

‘I tell you how you compete with that,’ Terri grins, ‘Make-up and a low cut top…works every time…and a push-up bra for good measure,’ she adds with a laugh.

‘I’ll try it, next time he comes in I’ll get all glammed up and lean against the door frame with my sexy pose,’ Sarah replies.

‘Sexy pose?’ Terri laughs, she lifts the pan and pours the hot water into the three mugs, ‘mind you, there is something special about Howie…’

‘You’re telling me,’ Roger adds, ‘imagine being in that vehicle with them on a hot day, those hard bodies stripping off to the waist, narrow waists…defined chests…all covered in sweat and glistening…’

‘Roger!’ Sarah exclaims still laughing.

‘Oh I don’t know,’ Terri stares away dreamily, ‘I think I could manage a few hours out with them…those lads of his are very cute,’ she adds slowly, emphasising the last word.

‘Just give me one of them,’ Roger says softly, ‘I’d even take Dave.’

‘Dave!?’ Both the girls say with shocked grins.

‘He might be little but you know what they say,’ Roger smiles, ‘it’s not the size of the tool but the man holding it!’

‘Oh not Dave,’ Terri laughs shaking her head, ‘he’s lovely but no…Nick…yes…Blowers…quite likely….Cookey I could manage…’

‘Manage?’ Sarah carries on laughing.

‘Yes manage,’ Terri nods, ‘but not Dave…he wouldn’t know when to stop.’

‘Suits me fine,’ Roger adds with a grin.

‘Howie’s changed,’ Sarah says in a soft voice as she takes the offered mug, ‘he was always so softly spoken, funny…you know…always messing about and making me laugh, but the way he is now…different,’ she tails off with a distant look.

‘He frightens me sometimes,’ Terri says quietly, ‘not like I’m scared of him, but like…you know…the way he is, so intense and that look he does…’

‘I know,’ Sarah nods, ‘he was never like that before…the way everyone looks to him, and the energy he gives off, I look at him and think that’s not my brother…and the way he fights, like he’s possessed.’

‘Well you heard what happened during that big fight outside,’ Roger says.

‘I think everyone has by now,’ Sarah replies, ‘that’s got to be exaggerated…’

‘I don’t know,’ Terri shakes her head, ‘enough people are saying it…they all heard him…and they keep saying it was like the things were too scared to attack him.’

‘Yeah,’ Sarah says sadly.

‘I fancied him like mad,’ Terri adds, ‘you know I did…I still like him but not like that now, no offence I know he’s your brother and all that…’

‘Oh none taken, don’t worry,’ Sarah says quickly, ‘I know what you mean.’

‘Besides, I’ve heard he likes that Lani girl?’

‘He does, but he’s useless around women,’ Sarah chuckles, ‘he turns into Hugh Grant if he likes someone, stuttering and stammering…quite sweet really.’

‘Just adds to the charm,’ Roger adds.

They all freeze as the rumble rolls across the fort, looking down at the ground and the vibration coming through their feet.

Ditching the coffee mugs they run outside, watching everyone running to the far side and staring up. They look up at the clear sky and move further away from the wall. The rumble ends and they watch as Chris runs up the slope with Meredith. Word soon spreads as those with a view tell others. A big explosion in the distance, then someone says it’s Fawley refinery.

Terri watches the look of fear cross Sarah’s face, knowing Howie and his group have gone for fuel and then hearing the fuel depot has just exploded.

‘They’re probably nowhere near it,’ Terri offers softly.

‘Yeah…yeah you’re right, that’s miles away…’

‘They’ll be in Portsmouth somewhere, attacking some giant horde of zombies and having the time of their lives,’ Terri smiles, ‘come on, let’s get that coffee.’

Thirty-Three

‘What was it?’ The woman asks her husband as he walks back into the tent.

‘I didn’t see anything but they all saying Fawley refinery has gone up, ‘ere mate, I think you got the wrong tent,’ the man turns at the hulking form of Randall slipping inside the large canvass structure.

‘Sorry,’ Randall murmurs.

‘No worries,’ the man says with grin, ‘what the…’ he voice gets cut off by the large hand gripping his wind pipe. Lifted off the ground and propelled across the ground as Randall grips the woman by her throat and drives them both down to the floor. He squeezes hard, preventing them from screaming out. They both thrash and buck, flailing useless fists against the hard muscle of the big American.

On his knees with a throat gripped in each hand he drops down and rips a chunk of flesh from the woman’s face before twisting his head and going for the man’s ear. Ripping it clean off and spitting it aside. He holds the throats until they start blacking out, easing the pressure to prevent killing them before the infection can course through. As they slip under he releases and watches for a minute, listening to the normality of the sound coming from outside.

They start to twitch, two bodies lying prone on their backs, convulsing until they both sit up and open their eyes. Randall nods with an evil grin before darting outside.

Back in the sunshine he walks into the middle of the compound, surrounding by tents and thick crowds of people.

A scream sounds behind him, an ear piercing wail as a woman falls to the floor with the husband and wife team tearing the flesh out from her neck.

‘NOW,’ Randall roars at the top of his voice. The signal is heard by his men. Strong hands grabbing bodies and biting into necks, faces, hands, arms, legs, anything they can get they bite.

Randall grabs a man running past, pulling him in and tearing a hole out of his cheek before throwing him away. He grabs another, biting into the top of the man’s shoulder and then pushes him hard.

Two steps and he grabs a woman, physically picking her up and biting into her neck. The hot blood spurting over his face, soaking his beard. He throws the woman aside. The blood coursing down his throat, driving him to feast and kill.

A child screams as he lunges at her, sweeping her up in his arms as he strides further into the living area of the survivors. He bites into her thigh before casually casting the screaming child aside. A man runs at him with a hammer, swinging the tool wildly. Randall catches the man’s arm mid swing and drags him in, sinking his teeth onto the man’s nose and wrenching his head aside. He kicks the man away and keeps hold of the hammer.

He runs ahead and slams the heavy metal head onto another man, stunning him. He bites down into his neck and shoves him deep into the crowd.

All around screams rip through the air. Shouts sound out as everyone runs in different directions.

Harry, his long grey beard already covered in wet sticky blood surges into the crowds. His big frame forcing a lane through. He grabs body after body, biting into the flesh, saliva flooding into his mouth as he passes the deadly infection again and again.

Colin rampages from tent to tent, running in to grab at people trying to hide. He laughs with unrestrained glee as he grabs an old woman and bites one of her fingers off. He chews the solid digit for a second before spitting it back into her face. A teenage boy strikes him across his back with a heavy stick, driving him forward. The boy comes in for another strike and gets kicked in the stomach. Bent double he finds Colin grabbing him roughly and biting into the top of his skull.

The inmates work quickly, a frenzied feast as they lash out, biting anything they can grab.

Ted draws his pistol and runs into the fray, his arm raised as he tries to identify who is biting. He spots a large man with a long grey beard covered in blood. The man grabs a woman and bites her. Ted fires into the man’s back, he staggers forward but stays on his feet. Turning to grin he starts coming at Ted.

The old policeman backs up, aiming again he fires into the man’s chest, watching with horror as the man takes the bullets and keep coming.

Something heavy slams into him, taking him to the ground. He lands on his back and catches a glance of a big black man with a thick beard on top of him. Ted scrabbles to bring the pistol up, a solid fist slams into the side of his head stunning him. He drops the pistol but fights out, slamming his fists into the sides of the man’s head. He feels the pain as teeth bite into his knuckles. Screaming in rage he yanks his fist away, blood pumping freely from the skin torn away to reveal the white knuckle bone.

The pressure is released as the man disappears, jumping up to run off. Ted grabs the pistol and raises it to fire, hesitating at the utter bedlam erupting all around him. People everywhere and no clear targets. He looks down at his hand, at the ruined skin on his knuckles. The red eyes of the man that bit him.

He tries to stand, his legs buckling as pain grips his stomach. He gets to his knees, thick tears welling in his eyes. He roars with frustration, knowing what will happen.

An inmate drops down in front of him, punched away by another man. Ted quickly raises the pistol and fires into the inmates head. The skull explodes as the grey matter is spewed out onto the dirty grass.

The pain wrenches at his inside. Gasping for breath he lifts the pistol and pushes the end into his mouth. At least I got one. He offers a prayer and pulls the trigger. Instant blackness as the top of his skull is taken off.

Kelly and the engineers rush out of their rooms, stopping to stand in shock at the scenes of violence in front of them.

‘Get in and lock the door…’ Kelly turns to the men, her words are cut off as she is taken off her feet by an inmate charging her down.

The engineers react quickly, lunging in to attack the man, kicking and punching him away. Kelly screams in agony, clutching a ragged laceration in her neck. Thick red blood pumping out between her fingers. The inmate grabs one of the feet launched at his head, gripping the ankle he bites into the calf muscle. The man screams at the pain shooting through his lower leg. He wrenches free and drops down. The inmate springs up and takes another engineer, driving him backwards as his teeth gnash and bite at the man’s face. The man twists and turns his face, the ferocity of the attack rendering him unable to do anything. Teeth bite at his lips, tearing the bottom lip off. The inmate pushes him down before running back into the crowd.

Doctor James, halfway across the fort towards the police office, freezes at the first scream. He spins round to see the interior of the living area erupt into an instant riot.

‘GUARDS…GUARDS…’ He bellows back to the gate. Several men appear, carrying long barrelled weapons; rifles and shotguns. They start running towards the affray already aiming.

Not one shot is taken. The guards, too terrified of firing into the crowd after what Sergeant Hopewell said to them, hesitate and pause, trying to identify targets. They go too deep, too worried about firing into the densely packed crowds. Graham the preacher, turned by Randall just a few minutes ago, runs towards the guards with his head down. They pause even longer, recognising the man. Graham gets to the first one and lifts his head at the last second. He barrels into the guard, sending him sprawling onto the ground. The man screams in panic as Graham lashes down, sinking his teeth into his forearm brought up to protect his face.

The guards spin round and fire at the two men, the distraction proves to be their undoing as another inmate breaks from the crowd and takes another guard down. The confusion and fear grips the guards as they start backing away. Unable to react and too terrified to run.

Doctor James runs for the gun dropped by the first guard. He dives at the last second, grabbing the weapon by the stock and dragging it into him. He lifts it up and aims at the crowd. An undead, bright red blood dripping from his mouth, runs from the middle towards the doctor. He pulls the trigger, cursing when nothing happens. His fingers feel for the safety switch, fumbling in panic. Too late, he swings the gun out to batter the thing away. The blow goes unnoticed as Doctor James is grabbed and taken to the ground. He fights with fierce determination, kicking, bucking and punching as hard as he can. He screams as he feels the teeth sinking into his neck, feeling the rip of flesh as the mouth savages at him.

The thing jumps off and runs, aiming for another victim. Doctor James, clutching his neck, gets quickly to his feet and runs back towards the hospital… ‘LOCK IT DOWN…’ He screams, he repeats the words several times before the pain in his stomach pulls him down to the rough surface of the ground.

Roger Hastings yelps in panic at the immediate explosion all around him. Halfway to the visitors centre and in the thick of the crowds he freezes, rooted to the spot in blind terror. He starts to move, walking quickly, jogging then all out sprinting. Aiming for the visitors centre with a flash of an idea to get inside and lock the doors. A huge man steps in front of him.  A big black man with a thick black beard. Roger runs straight into him, unable to swerve or stop. Randall absorbs the impact without a flinch. He wraps his arm round the former curator and holds him tight. Roger wails in terror as he feels his cheek being gouged by teeth. Randall turns and sends Roger spinning off to sprawl on the ground.

He gets quickly to his feet and starts running again. His hand pressed against the burning pain in his face and feeling the hot sticky blood pumping out. He almost makes it, getting just a few feet away from the entrance before, as with many others around him, the pain rips through his stomach and drops him to the ground.

The epicentre of the action spills out as the inmates grab anyone they can. Bite after bite is taken. Flesh ripped and torn, small wounds, big lacerations, arteries opened, faces torn away. The savagery of the attack grows as the inmates, led by Randall, become frenzied and insatiable.

Randall moves with a swiftness that belies his size. Powering over short distance to barrel into small clusters of terrified refugees. Using the strength in his enormous arms to grip and hold them still. He casts the bodies aside after each bite. Forcefully pushing them away so they have time to get up and run before the infection takes hold, running further into the crowds of desperate trapped survivors.

Sarah and Terri, drinking their hot coffee both run outside on hearing the fracas. Their faces drain of blood at the horror of the fort, at the violence discharging and spilling out.

‘Meredith,’ Sarah yells, she scans the area, frantically searching for the dog. She can hear it barking, the deep sound distinctive over the noise of the fighting.

‘We’ve got to get Meredith,’ Sarah starts running, heading for the slope as the last place she saw Chris and the dog.

Terri hesitates, frozen in fear at the sight. She sees the guards running into the centre and turns to head back inside the police office. She slams the door and rams the bolt home, backing away as the sounds from outside just get worse. A small grimy window to the outside is all she has to peer out, an ancient thing covered in filth and dust. She presses her face close to the small lead lined panes and watches with increasing panic as the guards fail to stop the mass fighting. People she knows, people she’d spoken to get taken down yards from the office. Bitten savagely and left to bleed. Those same bodies start twitching within minutes as the infection takes hold. Soon there are undead running freely within the fort, desperate battles and fights take place.

A child runs past the window screaming, being chased by an inmate. Terri feels the vomit rise as the girl is yanked back by her hair and quickly covered by the inmate as he descends to feast. She screams at the sight, an instinctive reaction that she snaps off as quickly as it comes out. The inmate looks up, fixing his red eyes on the window, fresh blood dripping from his mouth.

He slowly looks along the wall to the door and springs up, slamming his body against it. Terri cries out in fear and looks for an escape. The rooms are sealed, no other way in or out.

She backs away, going further into the room. The door bursts open with a splintering sound as the undead staggers inside, breathing hard with growling noises emanating from its throat.

Terri yells in fear and starts throwing anything she can get her hands on. Mugs, the gas hob, the saucepan, she grabs the hole punch and stapler and launches them at the thing. It advances without a flinch, the objects bouncing harmlessly of its body.

She turns to run into the back rooms, the thing chases, howling as it dives forward and grabs her ankle. She goes to the floor, frantically cycling her free leg to land blow after blow on the creatures face. It starts dragging her in, drawing her closer to the open mouth, lips pulled back and teeth already chomping.

Screaming she sits up and starts beating at it with everything she has. The grip loosens and she breaks free, the action causing her to jolt backwards. Scrabbling to her feet she turns to run but the thing is on her. Landing heavily on her back. She staggers forward, holding both their weight on her strong legs. Twisting and turning her head she runs backwards, slamming the thing into the wall.

Teeth bite down into the back of her neck. She roars with defiance and keeps ramming her body against the wall. She head-buts backwards, feeling the crunch of bone as the back of her skull breaks the nose of the man on her back. She does it again, harder and faster. The thing lets go and slides down. She spins, full of rage and kicks at his face. Forced over to the floor from the barrage of blows the things head rests against the wall as Terri aims kick after kick into the face. She pulverises it, driving the bones inwards to penetrate the brain. The thing dies long before she stops kicking.

‘Terri,’ she spins at the sound of her name being called to see Sergeant Hopewell running in.

‘I’m bit,’ Terri gasps, she reaches round to touch the back of her neck. She pulls her hand away and curses at the sight of the blood.

‘Oh Terri,’ Sergeant Hopewell stares at her young friend. She walks forward as Terri begins to sob, loud wracking sobs that send hot tears coursing from her eyes.

‘You’re going to be fine,’ Sergeant Hopewell reaches out and draws the girl in, holding her close.

‘Sarge…I’m bit…bit,’ Terri sobs harder, she grabs wraps her arms round Debbie.

‘Come on now, you’re going to be fine, it’s just a scratch not a bite.’

‘I felt him bite me…he fucking bit me…’

‘Oh Terri,’ Sergeant Hopewell holds the girl close, shaking her head as her heart breaks. Outside the noise grows worse, a multitude of screams, shouts, anger, hurt, pain and fury.

Terri’s legs give out causing Sergeant Hopewell to grab the girl and help lower her to the floor. The papers from the desks scattered all over the floor.

‘Urgh,’ Terri clutches at her stomach as the pain takes hold, ‘I don’t want to die…not like this…please…save me…save me…’ She grabs at Debbie’s arms, squeezing hard as the pain increases.

‘Terri…oh my…Oh Terri,’ Sergeant Hopewell strokes the girls head, brushing the hair from her face. Tears fall from her eyes to land on Terri’s head.

‘Don’t…kill me…don’t let me come back…’ Terri gasps.

‘I will,’ Sergeant Hopewell says softly.

‘Promise me…’

‘I promise, Oh Terri…listen, you’re going to a better place okay? A much better place, just close your eyes and breathe Terri, there’ll be light and warmth and all your friends will be there…all your family too…that’s it…breath Terri, just breathe and relax…it’s going to be so much better there…I’m so proud of you Terri, so very proud…close your eyes and know we all love you very much, so very much.’

She holds the girl, murmuring soft words and stroking her face with a soft hand as Terri slips away. As she feels the life leave her body, Debbie breaks down into hard sobs. She holds Terri close, willing this to be a nightmare, willing it to end. Steven, Tom and now Terri…all gone.

‘That’s touching as fuck,’ a deep American voice says quietly behind her. She stiffens at the sound, the sobs ending instantly.

‘Do it then,’ she snarls with fury.

‘Oh I will,’ Randall replies.

She braces, holding Terri tight as she waits for the pain. It comes quickly as Randall drops down and shoves his mouth against the back of her neck. She refuses to cry out from the pain, refuses to show that reaction but instead clenches her teeth and stares at the floor.

‘All done, you’ll be one of my motherfuckers very shortly,’ the American chuckles. He gets up and walks out. Leaving her alone with Terri. She feels the blood coursing round the side of her neck and dripping down her chest.

Gently she lowers Terri to the floor and gets up. Knowing she has but a minute or two. She looks round, searching for anything she can find to fulfil the promise she made.

Checking drawers and desks she finds nothing that would help or do the job quickly. She checks the side of the office, where the gas boiler was and the small collection of tea things. One old thin bladed bread knife with a serrated edge. She grips the handle and stares at the thing. A promise is a promise.

‘Forgive me,’ she whispers as she drops down to Terri’s side. She holds the knife in both hands and rests the edge against Terri’s exposed neck. Breathing harder and harder she forces the courage into her arms. Squeezing her eyes closed she takes a breath, pain explodes in her stomach as the first convulsion fires through Terri. Debbie keels to one side, gasping and clutching her stomach. Gritting her teeth she picks the knife up and with shaking hands presses the blade to Terri’s throat.

An electric current courses through Terri, bucking her upper body and knocking the knife aside. Debbie fights the pain and flounders for the knife, crying hot tears as she desperately tries to pick it up.

Sobbing and in agony she starts to lose her vision. Crying out loud she begs for another minute to fulfil the promise. She collapses forward, landing on Terri. The knife clasped weakly in her hand. As she starts to slip under she feels Terri body moving. The oxygen supply to Debbie’s brain starts to slow. Feeling Terri move underneath her she believes Terri to be recovering. She smiles in happiness, she was wrong. Terri wasn’t dying, she was just passed out.

As one pair of red bloodshot eyes open, another pair of human eyes close for the last time. One dies and one comes back.

Sarah races through the fort. The knife that Clarence gave her already drawn and held in one hand. She swerves and twists through the fighting bodies. Someone lunges at her, she slashes out with the blade, scoring across the face and not waiting to see the result but runs on.

All around her the survivors are being taken down. Faces with horrific injuries everywhere, just like the start of the event. She purses her lips and runs faster.

Something slams into from the side. She goes down in a tangle of arms and legs, the wind knocked out of her. Without conscious thought she drives the end of the knife into the body of whatever is on top of her. Plunging the point in again and again. Stabbing with ruthless determination as she writhes and lashes out.

She twists violently and clambers on top of the body. An adult woman with wild red eyes and blood stains on her teeth. Sarah stabs down, sticking the blade deep into the neck. She gets up and staggers back, the knife held out in front of her.

The melee is pressing in closer, shutting down her view of the far sides. Just bodies fighting and dying. She starts off towards the front of the fort, pushing and kicking at people to move out of the way.

A hand grabs her ponytail and pulls her backwards, lifting her off her feet. Screaming she crashes down and looks up to see the face bearing down at her. She stabs upwards, driving the point of the knife deep into an eye socket. Blood and gore burst out coating her face. She rolls away, holding her breath and keeping her mouth closed until she’s wiped the filth away.

Up again and she charges through the crowd. Hands reach out to grab her, she ducks and twists, lashing out with the knife and slowly getting through.

‘Sarah!’ A voice screams her name, she turns to see the young lad from the gate. The one Terri uses as a runner, he stands there looking terrified and flinching as two burly men fall down in front of him, fighting viciously.

She runs and grabs his wrist, pulling him along behind her, ‘where’s Chris?’ She shouts.

‘I don’t know,’ the boy wails. Sarah feels the tug as an undead grabs at the boy and tries to pull him back. She spins round and lunges in, sticking the knife through the throat and hacking away to ruin the flesh. Arterial blood sprays out as the body falls. She pulls the boy behind her, once more fighting her way through the erupting crowds.

‘There,’ the boy shouts, she turns to see him pointing at top of the wall with the dog at his side.

Sarah sizes the distance up, the thick crowds of people fighting and attacking each other. With a yell she yanks the boy and charges in. Forcing her way through, stabbing and slashing everything that gets in her way. She stumbles and trips, the boy helps her up. They press on, slashing through until they break free on the other side.

A sharp pain flares in her left leg, she glances down to see an undead savaging her calf. Stabbing down she ends the thing and pulls the boy into her.

‘Go to Chris…go now,’ she pushes him away. He falters, unsure of why she’s staying.

‘GO NOW,’ she screams, the veins in her neck bulging from the force of her voice. He backs away, turning to run.

An undead lunges for the boy, Sarah darts forward and takes the thing down. Stabbing again and again into the chest. She jumps up and turns her back to the slope. Staring the crowd down. Daring any of them to try and stop the boy. Howie’s blood courses through her veins, that same blood that turns her into a warrior for the two minutes of life she has left.

She ignores the pain in her leg as she attacks again and again. She holds the base of the slope with her life. Stabbing and cutting anything that comes near it.

The pain grips her stomach. She growls harder and ignores it. Charging at another undead as it lurches towards her. She stabs forward, the pain exploding inside her and sending her bodily into the undead. They both go down. Sarah on top and hacking away. Crying in agony as she refuses to yield to the pain. Another set of legs stride past her, she twists and grabs an ankle, bringing the body to the floor. She pulls herself over and stabs the knife down.

As blackness descends she stabs again and again and roars with utter defiance. She screams her brother’s name. She screams Howie again and again, as though her voice will carry to wherever he is.

The thrusts of the knife grow weaker, her body shaking with pain. The agony simply too much to take and she sags down, breathing short and shallow gulps of air.

‘Howie,’ she whispers, her heart beats one final time. Sarah, sister of Howie, dies at the foot of the slope, her life given to save the boy.

Chris stares down at the dog as she barks, her hackles up and ears pricked. She tenses, every muscle in her body straining as she stares into the fort. He follows her gaze, trying to see what she’s barking at.

There, in the middle, a big black man with a thick beard stands tall and screams ‘NOW’. Carnage erupts as screams sound out from all directions. Chris watches as all over the tent area, people are taken down and bitten. The big man in the middle grabbing at body after body, biting and throwing them aside like litter.

His professional eye takes it in. Several of them have got inside and are now launching an attack from deep within the living area. Everywhere he looks people are being savaged and taken down.

It’ll spread. That’s it. The fort is lost. He watches as the guards run in, feeling a tremor of hope as he wills them to start firing. They don’t. They hesitate and ruin the only chance they had.

The GPMG…it’s been fixed to the top of the wall. He turns and drags the dog away, heading back up the slope with her. She pulls and yanks at her lead for a few seconds, desperate to be released to charge in and kill the things.

He shouts at her and pulls her roughly back. She concedes and goes with him, sensing his fear. He runs up the slope, and onto the top. With a heightened view he can see how much the violence has spread already.

‘What do we do?’ One of the guards posted as a lookout on the wall shouts as Chris runs past him.

‘Fucking pray,’ Chris shouts back. He runs on, skirting the edge as he aims for the position of the machine gun. Just turn it round and fire into the crowd. No matter what happens, the dog must survive. If that means killing every living thing within here then so be it.

He stops aghast at the sight of metal fixings stacked at the agreed position. None of it assembled and no sign of the machine gun. He casts around, thinking it surely must be here. He runs on thinking they’ve put it somewhere else and not told him. No, it’s not here. Instinct tells him exactly what’s happened and he vows that if he gets through this he will personally put a bullet through Debbie Hopewell’s head.

He turns quickly, his eyes sweeping the vista of the flatlands and spotting a small group of people coming down the central road.

Meredith. He has to get her out of here. She’s all that matters. He grips her lead and starts back along the wall, staring down at the devastation being wrought below. It’s already spread far and taking in all parts of the living quarters. He watches as a man batters his way through the door of the police office and disappears from view.

Pausing for a second he plots a route; go down the slope and round the inside edge of the front wall. Get to the gates and get the dog outside. The route is already blocked by people fighting but there’s no other way.

He aims for the slope and starts running. Getting to the top he spots Sarah forcing her way through the crowd dragging one of the runners with her. He shouts a warning as an undead lunges at her leg. She falters as he bites and stabs down. She pushes the boy away and shouts at him before turning back to fight the attackers off.

The boy runs at Chris, tears falling from his face. They meet halfway along the slope as the boy runs straight into his arms.

Chris drops down and grabs the boys shoulders, ‘listen to me…I need you to do something…something very important…the most important thing you will ever do in your life…you can run fast can’t you.’

The boy nods, a quick movement that causes the tears to fly from his face.

‘I need you to take the dog and run, you run out this fort and you keep running…you hear me, you don’t look back…you don’t stop for anything…you get out and run…’

‘But…’

‘No buts…LISTEN TO ME,’ Chris shouts at the boy, ‘go straight up that road and keep going until you find Howie…you tell him what’s happened here…tell him the fort is gone…everything is gone and you tell him to stay away,’ Chris glances over the boys shoulder as Sarah goes down, the action adding more urgency to his voice, ‘can you do it?...You will do it…’

‘What about you?’ The boy asks.

‘I’m going to make sure you get out…take the lead now, hold it tight and do not let her leave your side…do not let her go…no matter what happens to me you get out with the dog and run, got it?’

‘Okay.’

‘I said GOT IT?’

‘Okay,’ the boy nods, his voice firmer. Chris presses the lead into the boys hand and makes him wrap it round his wrist.

‘Stay behind me…but you see a chance to run then you take it…run fast, run faster than you’ve ever run before and don’t stop.’ He grabs the boy and hugs him, he doesn't know the boy but can see the terror in his eyes and knows his own life is about to end. That last human comfort, from a man to a child.

‘I’m scared,’ the boy whispers.

‘I’ll protect you…I won’t let anyone hurt you…but you’ve got to run, find Howie…promise me.’

‘I promise.’

‘Swear it.’

‘I swear,’ the boy sobs.

Chris pushes the boy gently away and nods at him. A single tear rolls down his face and soaks into his beard.

‘You’re a good lad,’ Chris smiles and stands. He draws the pistol from his belt and starts down the slope, urging the boy to stay close.

With Sarah down the undead fight closer to the base of the slope. Chris walks steadily towards them. One breaks free and starts up. Chris fires once, a clean headshot that drops the body instantly. He holds the gun up as they reach the base. Another lunges, a single shot and the body drops. Chris uses his free hand to keep the boy behind him. Meredith barks and growls but she senses the fear in the little one holding her lead. She knows the man wants her to protect the little one. She makes more noise. She tells them to stay away for she has no fear of them, she has killed them before and she’ll kill them again.

‘Stay close,’ Chris shouts, he fires again, dropping another body that comes at them.

The progress is slow, painfully slow. Too many bodies falling and moving to risk going faster but every step is one closer to the front.

He fires again, another body slumps to the ground. Meredith roars at the things, her lips pulled back to show her teeth. The boy struggles to hold the powerful beast. She could break free with ease, she could pull him behind her without noticing it but she doesn't. She knows she is to defend him so she holds her position. This pack rely on her to hold her position.

Chris fires twice, cursing as the first one clips a shoulder. He counts the bullets and calculates there must be two left. With long practised movements he ejects the magazine and rams his last one home, sliding the top back to engage the first bullet.

They keep going, Chris tracking any potential target and only firing at those that come their way. The rounds quickly diminish as the fighting intensifies. Chris moves faster, using his spare hand to keep checking the boy is behind him.

Yards from the gate and he can sense they’ve almost made it. One last group of survivors fighting with desperation at a horde of undead, they block the path, to go round them takes them further into the melee.

‘OPEN THE GATE,’ Chris bellows at the survivors, one of them, a tall guard with dark hair sees Chris shouting and focusses his attention.

‘OPEN THE GATE…WE’VE GOT TO GET THE DOG OUT.’ The man looks at the boy holding the dog and nods his understanding. He says something to the rest of his group. One by one they glance over and Chris can see the understanding in their faces. All the guards know of the importance of the dog. It must survive no matter what.

The guard with the dark hair turns and pulls the bolts back, he twists round to lash out at an undead lunging into him before going back and pulling the last one free.

‘This is it,’ Chris shouts to the boy, ‘we’ll drive them back and you get out…remember what I said…you run…’

‘Okay, the boy shouts back and swallows his fear down. He fixes his eye on the gate, the view partially blocked by the number of bodies fighting in the way.

‘Tell Clarence I said he was a fat wanker,’ Chris shouts.

‘WE’RE GONNA DRIVE THEM BACK…READY?’ Chris roars at the men pressed against the gate. They nod back, still lashing out with whatever weapons they could grab, knives, bats, stick, shotguns and rifles reversed and swung out.

Chris aims the pistol and fires into the crowd of undead, the bullets slam home, ripping skulls apart. The pistol clicks empty, he ditches it.

‘NOW,’ he bellows. He draws a large knife from his belt and charges. The guards rally, they roar in defiance and fight out. Driving the undead back from the gate.

Chris slams into the first few. The sheer momentum of his weight and speed forcing them further away.

The guards fight with everything they’ve got. To the last man they force the undead back and create space behind them.

‘GO…’ Chris shouts to the boy. He squeezes the lead and runs for it. An undead breaks free and runs behind Chris, charging at the boy.

Meredith lunges forward, rising onto her back legs and tearing at the things face with her huge teeth. She tears the man apart while the boy dangles on the end of the lead. As the thing falls the boy pulls the lead and runs down the tight space created by the guards fighting forward.

He gets to the gate and pushes it open, pausing for the briefest of seconds to glance back at Chris. The big man grins, white teeth gleaming against his black beard. Chris nods at the boy and watches as he slips out of view.

More undead charge at the small group. The ferocity of the attack increases with every passing second.

Chris fights out with savage intent. His knife cutting, thrusting and stabbing. More come at him and more die. The guards start to fall, the press of bodies overwhelming them. One by one they falter and die. The small group whittles down as the fighting becomes harder and harder.

The thick stack of bodies builds ever higher as Chris refused to be defeated. He roars with anger, using his strength and experience to kill and kill and keep killing.

The guard with the dark hair drops from a sudden lunge of several undead taking him off his feet. He screams as the teeth tear into his body. The last thought on his mind as he dies is that of Jane, the quiet but beautiful girl that kept him company these last few days.

‘What the fuck are you motherfuckers doing?’ A deep voice booms out. Chris back away, half in a crouch position with the knife held ready. His hands and arms slick with blood. The undead hold back, waiting as the huge American strides into their midst.

‘He just one mother-fucking man,’ Randall shouts, ‘look at all these dead bodies…did you do this?’ He directs the question at Chris.

Chris stares back, eyeing the size of the man and taking in the red bloodshot eyes.

‘I mother-fucking asked you a question?’ Randall demands.

‘Get fucked,’ Chris spits.

‘Me get fucked?’ Randall blanches, ‘I ain’t the one surrounded by fucking zombies now am I?’

‘You can still get fucked,’ Chris mutters.

‘See, I don’t think you know how this works…I tell you to get fucked…and you literally…get fucked…You understand now? In a minute you will be bent over getting fucked…fucked till you bleed.’

Chris backs away as the man walks slowly towards him.

‘Harry…take this motherfucker out,’ Randall clicks his fingers. Chris watches another big man emerge from the crowd. This one with a long grey beard.

Harry walks towards Chris, no emotion displayed in his dead eyes. Chris pauses, waiting until the last second. He feints as though to run back but twists and lunges in. Harry is quick, but not quick enough to stop the long knife blade being driven to the hilt in his gut. Chris jerks the handle left and right, twisting and gouging before pulling the blade free. He steps back as Harry looks down at the wound. He looks up at Chris and comes on again, not showing any reaction to the stab he just received.

He lashes out, sending a fist towards Chris’s head. Chris just leans back and lets the knuckles gently touch his nose. He sends one of his own in, a hard punch that smashes Harry’s nose. Chris follows it through by driving the knife deep into Harry’s side. He pulls the blade out and stabs again, the motion getting faster as his other hand reigns blow after blow to the ex-bikers face.

Harry staggers backwards, overwhelmed by the ferocity of the attack. Blood pumps from the wounds in his stomach and sides. Chris rams the knife through his chest, puncturing a lung. He rips the blade out and side swipes at Harry’s neck. The sharp pointing driving deep inside. Chris jerks the blade free and watches as the main artery is opened. Blood arcs out from Harry. He staggers for a second before falling to his knees then topples over lie face down and inert.

‘Like I said,’ Chris pants, ‘get fucked.’

‘Oh you think you a bad motherfucker,’ Randall grins down at Harry’s bleeding corpse, ‘a real bad motherfucker…let’s see if you can do that again.’ Randall runs forward, the speed of the man surprising Chris. He tries to swipe out with the knife but finds a big gnarly fist wrapped around his wrist.

He looks in shock as Randall holds him steady. Chris pulls and pushes but the bigger man refuses to budge.

‘Ain’t so strong now are ya? You dumb-ass motherfucker,’ Randall goads him.

Chris punches out with his free hand, sending a fast hard straight punch to the Americans face. Randall swats it away like an insect. Chris twists and drives his back into the other man, trying to throw him over one shoulder and break the grip he has. Randall steps backwards and pulls Chris with him. Assuming a mock bored expression he watches as Chris tries to break the grip on his wrist.

Then he lashes out. Randall punches Chris in the face. An almighty blow that breaks Chris’s nose. Blood spurts out of his nostrils, pouring down into his mouth. Randall hits again, and again, he keeps hitting as Chris’s face is slowly destroyed. The cheeks bones are broken, the eye sockets are fractured. But he refuses to go down and stays wobbling on his feet.

Randall stops punching and watches Chris with interest.  A puzzled expression forming as Chris starts laughing, gently at first then harder and harder.

‘What the fuck?’ Randall looks round at the sea of undead faces staring at him.

‘You find this funny? You find me mother-fucking funny?’ Randall demands.

‘Not you,’ Chris guffaws…I’m laughing…’ he spits a thick glob of blood out of his mouth, a tooth flying out with it, 'I’m laughing at what….what’ll happen when you meet…’ He spits again, clearing his throat, ‘Clarence,’ he adds with a laugh.

‘Clarence? Who the fuck is he?’ Randall asks.

Chris laughs harder, tears mixed with blood pour down his ruined face and soak into his beard.

‘I said who the fuck is Clarence?’ Randall draws the man in closer.

‘Give me my knife and I’ll tell you,’ Chris whispers hoarsely.

‘You dumb-fuck…’ Randall retorts. He pushes Chris away. Releasing the grip on his wrist. ‘Take it then…you dying anyway.’ Randall toes the big knife towards Chris and readies himself for the anticipated attack.

Chris bends over slowly and grips the handle. He rights himself and sways on the spot. One eye already closed from the beating, he stares round and takes in the sight of the undead.

‘You,’ he points the knife at them, sweeping it round, ‘are all fucked…Howie and Dave and Clarence will end you….all of you….’ He laughs again, a bitter humourless sound.

‘Howie?’ Randall asks, ‘I keep hearing that retard's fucking name…where the fuck is this Howie…?’ He looks round to exaggerate the point.

‘Oh you’ll meet him,’ Chris spits, ‘you’ll meet all of them.’

‘This is fucked up,’ Randall shakes his head, ‘come on now, you got ya knife, let’s get this done,’ he beckons Chris on, goading him to attack.

‘Like I said the first time,’ Chris pauses as he lifts the knife, ‘you can get fucked,’ he roars with anger as he drives the point of the knife deep into his own throat. Coughing and spluttering as he hacks away. He sinks down from the pain and blood loss, suffocating and drowning at the same time.

He sticks one finger up at Randall as a final insulting salute and topples forward, bleeding out and dying. Images flood through his mind, images of his wife, of his fallen comrade Malcolm. He thinks of Clarence and Howie, then of the dog. The dog that holds the cure and is now running far from the fort. As his eyes close a warm feeling floods through his system. He heard Howie say that prayer that day. He heard it inside his head. If he heard that prayer in his head then it can only mean one thing. God does exist.

He dies smiling.

Thirty-Four

‘Howie to Clarence.’

‘Go ahead boss.’

‘Just checking to see if you’ve punched Cookey yet?’

‘Not yet...we’re discussing the finer merits of bikinis versus swimsuits.’

‘Oh right…sounds interesting.’

‘I said I prefer swimsuits as it leaves more to the imagination and is classical, whereas young Cookey said he preferred skimpy bikini’s, preferably with the lady holding her bikini top in her hand as she walks down the beach.’

‘Ah, now I have to agree with Cookey, definitely bikini’s but not the holding of the top bit though I hasten to add before my head gets cut off.’

‘I bet she’s stood behind you now holding that meat cleaver.’

‘Definitely bikinis.’

‘Lani just shouted that she prefers bikinis.’

‘But only if you have the figure for it.’

‘She just said only if they’re fitties though.’

‘I never said that.’

‘Cookey said the same thing, I won’t repeat his words exactly…’

‘Swimsuits, I think they’re sexy as anything.’

‘Blowers just said he’s with you and prefers swimsuits.’

‘Cookey said to tell him he prefers tight speedos.’

‘Urgh not dick-stickers, they’re gross…got to be shorts.’

‘Lani said she hates dick-stickers and prefers shorts.’

‘Dick-stickers? What are dick-stickers?’

‘Speedos Clarence, they mean speedos or tight trunks.’

‘I got an echo then from you and Cookey saying the same thing…you’d better get rid of your trunks then if she prefers shorts.’

‘I like my trunks.’

‘He better not wear dick-stickers.’

‘Hello Lani!’

‘Hello Clarence, tell Cookey that Blowers is missing him…he’s sat all alone on the bench.’

‘I’m not missing him…it’s bloody peaceful in here.’

‘Blowers wears dick-stickers all the time, he wears them instead of underpants.’

‘Piss off Cookey.’

‘That’s better than the spider-man pants you wear Cookey.’

‘Get bent Nick, go and wash your y-fronts.’

‘Does Nick wear y-fronts?’

‘Yes Lani, he does…brown and yellow ones.’

‘Cookey I don’t fucking wear y-fronts.’

‘And his other pair are paisley.’

‘I hate pants as much as dick-stickers…got to be tight boxer shorts.’

‘You hear that boss? She prefers tighty whitey’s…’

‘I heard Clarence…we need to stop at an underwear shop.’

‘I never said tighty whitey’s, I said boxer shorts….Lillian is nodding, she agrees with me.’

‘How about a bloke wearing a g-string?’

‘No Cookey, that’s gross…and Lillian agrees with that too.’

‘Blowers…you got to ditch that g-string mate…I said it was gross.’

‘Okay Cookey…I’ll do it when we get back, how about a mankini?’

‘What like Borat?’

‘Yes Lani, Cookey wears a mankini like Borat.’

‘Fuck off Blowers…you said it turned you on.’

‘Do you two ever agree on anything?’

‘No Lani, they bloody don’t.’

‘Is Nick having a crafty smoke up top?’

‘Piss off Cookey you fucking snitch…Dave’ll hear that.’

‘I heard it.’

‘I’ve put it out.’

‘Thank you Nicholas…and Alex?’

‘Yes Dave?’

‘You’re making the first brews for being a snitch.’

‘What? Okay…Sorry Dave.’

‘Ha, that fucked you up.’

‘Fuck off Blowers…I’m gonna rim your coffee mug.’

‘I’ve been doing yours everyday…didn’t you notice?’

‘I thought it tasted familiar!’

‘Dirty bastard…do you want cheese with your tea?’

‘Urgh no! That’s disgusting…pack it in you two.’

‘Sorry Lani.’

‘Sorry Lani.’

‘Blowers…why are you saying sorry over the radio? She’s sat opposite you.’

‘Er…good point…I don’t know why I did that.’

‘Ha…I know what we can do….I spy with my little eye something beginning with…R.’

‘Cookey…we’re not playing eye spy.’

‘You have to play eye spy on a road trip Blowers…It’s the rules.’

‘Road.’

‘No Dave, not road.’

‘River.’

‘No Dave.’

‘Rivets.’

‘No Dave.’

‘Rectangle.’

‘No Dave.’

‘Riding.’

‘No Dave.’

‘Radio.’

‘Yay…Dave wins…your turn Dave.’

‘K’

‘You have to say the words.’

‘I don’t want to say the words Mr Howie.’

‘It’s the rules… you have to say the words.’

‘The boss is right Dave, you’ve got to say the words.’

‘Okay Clarence…I spy with my little eye something beginning with K.’

‘Knife!’

‘No Mr Howie.’

‘Bugger, I would have put money on that.’

‘Knee.’

‘No Lani.’

‘Key.’

‘No Simon.’

‘Kissing?’

‘No Alex.’

‘Kite?’

‘Where can you see a kite or kissing Cookey?’

‘Fuck off Blowers….Catapult…’

‘That’s with a C.’

‘Oh…sorry Dave.’

‘Thick fucker…’

‘Piss off Blowers, you have a try then.’

‘Er…knapsack?’

‘No Simon.’

‘Lillian said knot.’

‘No Lani but a good guess.’

‘Not begins with N.’

‘Knot you thick wanker…like tie a knot…’

‘Oh yeah…your still a dick Blowers.’

‘Knuckle.’

‘No Clarence.’

‘Oh…Knives!’

‘Yes Lani…well done.’

‘I said knives.’

‘You didn’t Mr Howie, you said knife.’

‘You did say knife boss.’

‘Bloody tight if you ask me.’

‘I spy with my little eye something beginning with B.’

‘Boobs.’

‘No Cookey.’

‘Breasts.’

‘No Cookey.’

‘Bazoingas.’

‘No Cookey.’

‘Baps?’

‘Alex!’

‘Sorry Dave…’

‘Blowers?’

‘No Dave.’

‘Bright.’

‘No Dave.’

‘Brown?’

‘No Dave.’

‘Black.’

‘No Dave.’

‘Beige.’

‘It’s not a colour Dave.’

‘Burgundy…oh it’s not a colour.’

‘No Clarence.’

‘Blackbirds?’

‘No Cookey.’

‘Bums?’

‘No Cookey.’

‘Bottoms?’

‘No Cookey.’

‘Butts?’

‘No Cookey.’

‘Bumholes.’

‘Ha, no Cookey.’

‘Alex…’

‘Sorry Dave.’

‘Boots.’

‘Dave wins!’

‘Almost home…shit…is that Meredith? What’s she doing outside? Clarence, it looks like Meredith is on the road…’

‘Roger that boss…who she with?’

‘Too far to see, just a small group…they’re running at us.’

‘Pull over, we’ll make ready.’

‘Roger….switch on and make ready…this ain’t right…’

Thirty-Five

She lets the boy pull her through the gate. She wants to be released to kill the things but she knows her place is with the little one. She must stay with the little one.

They cross the inner alley to the outer gate and she waits as the boy pulls the bolts back with shaky hands. She can hear him crying and the fear in him is great.

Passing through she stays at his side as he starts to run. The words from Chris strong in his mind as he breaks into a sprint.

She keeps pace with him. Running faster and faster. The boy pumps his arms, loosening his grip to let the lead play out longer. Eyes blurred from the tears but he keeps his head up, stretching his stride out as his running coach told him at school. He tries to breathe properly like he was taught, but the crying has upset his rhythm and he gets knocked out of sync.

Run and keep running. Don’t look back. Find Howie.

The boy fulfils the order. He runs like the wind with fear driving him on. The heat starts to work at him, he gasps for breath but keeps going. Chris told him to run and keep running. No matter what happens; keep running.

His legs pump as his feet fly over the rough road. His slim frame powering along as the tears continue to fall. Past the embankments and into the flatlands, his stride is open and easy.

She glances up at him, seeing the wetness round his eyes. Something she’s seen many times recently. She looks ahead at the figures in the distance. They don’t concern her. Just a few of them that she can kill with ease if they pose a threat.

The running feels good. Her legs opening up and stretching. She breathes easily, enjoying the rush of air over her face.

A scent wafts to her nose, a faint smell caught on the warm currents of air gently rolling over the flatlands. That smell. But the things are behind them. Not in front.

The smell grows stronger. She fixes her eyes on the figures now getting closer. It’s them. The smell is coming from them.

She slows down, the boy yanks at the lead to drive her on. He doesn't know what they are. She can’t let him run into them. She braces her feet and slows more.

‘Come on,’ the boys yells with a sob.

She makes noise. Warning him of the danger.

‘Please come on,’ the boy sobs and yanks at the lead.

She stops dead and refuses to budge, showing her teeth and growling at the things coming closer.

‘We’ve got to keep running,’ the boy cries harder, frustrated at being stopped by the dog. He wipes the tears from his eyes and looks up to see a group of people walking towards them. Three women and a man. They look kind, two beautiful young women, an old woman and a small man wearing glasses and a tucked in shirt.

Meredith cocks her head. The energy from them is different. They smell of the things. They are the things. But not the same things. She growls deeply and watches closely. The hunger in them is different. They don’t want to eat the little one.

Unsure, she keeps her eyes fixed on them and stands her ground. She shows teeth so they know who she is. She makes herself big so they don’t attack. Look at me. Look at my size. I am strong and I will destroy you.

Marcy watched closely as the boy came out of the fort and started running down the central road. She could see just from his manner that something wasn’t right. He was fleeing from something.

He left the gate open behind him too, surely not something done with such an important place.

‘Maybe he’s a messenger? Come to ask what we want,’ Reginald suggested as they watched the boy.

‘Why the dog though?’

‘I don’t know Marcy, maybe it’s his pet.’

Marcy watches as the boy runs closer, then the dog starts to pull back. Her eyes flick between the dog and the boy. Looking at the size of the animal now growling and showing her teeth.

‘He’s crying,’ Reginald observes.

‘Hey,’ Marcy calls out, ‘what’s wrong?’ She looks with concern at the boy. He’s clearly running from something and sobbing heavily as he pulls the dog to keep moving. He sobs harder, tears running freely down his face. His narrow chest rising and falling as he gasps for air.

‘Are you okay?’ She softens her tone. Her words seem to spark a reaction in him, the soft tone or the non-threatening appearance of the group.

He pulls the dog harder, coaxing her to keep going. She does so reluctantly, taking small steps but keeping her eyes fixed on the group.

The boy cries out with fear and frustration and simply drops the lead to run at Marcy. She drops down into a crouch and catches him as he runs in and wraps his arms round her neck. His tears wetting her cheeks as he sobs and sobs.

She rubs his back soothingly, feeling him shaking from head to toe. The dog moves slowly forward, getting ready to leap at the first sign of aggression. She keeps her eyes fixed on Marcy. Lips pulled back showing her huge canine teeth with that deep bass growl grumbling from her throat.

‘It’s okay, it’s okay,’ Marcy repeats softly.

Meredith watches. They stink of the things but the energy is completely different. There is no sense of the predator in them. The man in the group even emits a sense of fear as he backs away from the dog, nervously rubbing his hands.

The female holding the little one makes soft noises, the same soft noises her pack leaders used to make to her little one.

‘They’re….they….’ the boy sobs harder… ‘Howie…got to….’

‘Ssshh, take your time,’ Marcy says, ‘calm down and get your breath…take your time…everything will be okay.’

‘Howie…got….gone…all gone…’

‘Who’s gone? What about Howie? Take your time and try to breath normally.’ Marcy keeps on with the soft words, gently bringing the boy down into a state of calm. His breathing eases from near hyper-ventilation to mere gasps. He clings to Marcy’s neck, too afraid to let go.

‘That’s better,’ Marcy smiles, ‘now try again.’

The boy takes a deep breath and eases himself from the crook of Marcy’s neck, ‘Sorry…I made you wet,’ he says weakly.

‘It’s okay.’

‘Here,’ Reginald holds out his cotton handkerchief. She takes it and wipes her neck before telling the boy to close his eyes. She starts cleaning his face, gently wiping the tears away.

‘What’s happened?’ She asks as she dabs at his cheeks.

‘The things got inside…the zombies…they were killing everyone and …and…Chris said I had to take the dog and get out…he said I had to find Howie and tell him not to go back…he said run and don’t look back and keep running until I find Howie…he said to tell Clarence…’

‘Slow down, Marcy says, forcing her tone to be calm, her hand frozen above his face, ‘say that again.’

‘The zombies are inside,’ the boy repeats, ‘they’re killing everyone…Chris told me to get the dog out and run and find Howie…Howie is like our leader…he kills all the…’

‘I know Howie,’ Marcy cuts him off, ‘and Dave yes? And Cookey and Blowers…’ She repeats the names Darren had told her.

Naming them seems to revive the boy, he takes the handkerchief and uses it to blow his nose. Reginald grimacing at the destruction of his last one.

The boy wipes his eyes again and looks up at Marcy. His mouth drops open as he looks into her eyes. The blood visibly drains from his face, he looks to the others and sees the same red bloodshot eyes staring back at him.

‘Take it easy,’ Marcy says softly, ‘we’re not going to hurt you okay…we’re not the same as the others…’

‘But,’ he takes a step away, his eyes flicking to each of them.

‘Young man,’ Mildred says kindly, ‘if we wanted to hurt you we would have done it by now, this lady is called Marcy, my name is Mildred and this is Reginald and April.’ The others nod in greeting, keeping their faces neutral.

‘You're zombies,’ he says dumbly.

‘Kind of, but not the same as the others,’ Marcy replies, ‘why have you got to get the dog out?’

The boy hesitates, suddenly unsure if to tell them of her importance. The woman seems so calm and kind. They all do. And the old lady was right, they could have taken him several times by now.

‘Okay…you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,’ Marcy adds after a pause, ‘you said the things are inside? How many of them?’

‘I don’t know,’ the boy answers, ‘they were everywhere…the whole place was going mad…’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Joe.’

‘Joe, I’m Marcy…how many people were inside the fort?’

He shrugs, full of fear at what to say or do.

‘You said you’ve got to find Howie, where is he?’

‘He went out for fuel…I’ve got to wait for him.’

‘Okay…Joe…do you think everyone in the fort is infected now?’

He nods, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks, his bottom lip quavering. ‘Chris got me out, the whole place was fighting, everyone had bite marks…Sarah saved me but she got killed…’

‘Sarah? Is that Howie’s sister?’

He nods again, his chest starting to heave as the sobs bubble up from deep inside.

‘Your poor thing, come here,’ she opens her arms for him again. He hesitates but the sobs burst out again, ‘I promise I won’t hurt you Joe.’ Something propels him into her arms again. The feeling of safety at being enveloped by maternal loving arms. The warm softness of the female form providing comfort.

‘See, no one is going to hurt you Joe,’ she rubs his back again as she looks up at the look of worry etched on Reginald’s face.

‘What do you want to do?’ Reginald asks.

‘They shouldn’t attack us,’ Marcy replies, ‘we should be safe to go inside.’

‘I’m not going back,’ Joe cries out.

‘I know…you don’t have to go back…we’re just talking Joe, just talking that’s all…’

‘Or we wait here for Howie to come back,’ Reginald suggests.

‘That might be sooner rather than later,’ Mildred remarks. They turn to see the front of the Saxon coming through the estate, a large fuel tanker driving slowly behind it.

‘Is that Howie’s vehicle?’ Marcy asks Joe. He nods back, stepping away from Marcy to watch as the Saxon slows to a stop.

Marcy stands up, subconsciously adjusting her top and smoothing her hair down. Her heart beating faster as she realises the time has come. She glances back at the fort, wondering who’s taken it and why now.

‘This could ruin everything,’ she says quietly.

‘Too late now,’ Mildred replies.

‘We could still try and run,’ Reginald suggests.

‘Don’t be silly Reggie, we’re here now…we’ll just have to see it through,’ Marcy replies.

‘But you heard what Joe said…the fort’s gone, which is what we should be doing.’

‘No,’ she says firmly, ‘we’re here and we’re doing this.’

Reginald nods and looks back at the big army vehicle. Swallowing nervously he takes a step closer to Marcy. Closer for his own peace of mind.

Closer so she can protect him if it all goes wrong.

Thirty-Six

I recognise the woman, something about her seems familiar but I can’t place it. Must be the heat of the day and the fumes we’ve inhaled.

I bring the Saxon to a halt a good distance away and we climb down. All eyes fixed on the group stood with the dog. We pause as the lads grab assault rifles and we wait for Clarence and Cookey to jog over and join us.

‘That’s one of the runners,’ Blowers protects his eyes from the bright sun and stares at the young lad stood with the group. They all turn to look back. A small smart looking man with glasses and a shirt that’s tucked in. An older refined looking woman with grey hair held tight in a bun and two beautiful adult women.

The one with the low cut top and black hair, she’s tanned and stunning, and very familiar.

My eyes are fixed on her as my brain frantically tries to work out where I’ve seen her before. Something in context. Not from the fort, no that doesn't feel right. A few quick glimpses are all I’ve had.

She smiles and although I can’t see them, I can tell her eyes are as fixed on me as mine are on her. That smile. I’ve seen it. My heart is beating faster, my stupid brain is trying to tell me something.

Where do I know her from?

I glance at the others, they all look normal. The lad from the fort looks upset and the dog is snarling. Her lips are pulled back but she’s not attacking. Meredith is staring fixed at the woman with black hair too.

‘Hello Howie,’ she says, her voice low and husky and I recognise that too.

‘Hi, do I know you…I recognise you but…’ The air around me feels charged, making the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. The other three people with her watch me closely, all of them with strange expressions on their faces, like they’re scared of me.

I stop dead as our eyes meet.

Time stops.

The whole universe ceases to expand. The world doesn't spin. The whole of creation ceases to be in that one second. Eternity passes, the seasons change as summer drifts to autumn with a chill wind blowing at my face. Snow falls all around me then melts away as the spring sun once more comes to shine. It happens again. And again. Faster. Wind. Snow. Sun. The hours of the day blur into one never ending cycle of stars, moonlight and sunshine. I’m spinning round and round but I’m still, everything around me is spinning. I’m falling but I know I will never reach the bottom for there is no bottom. Just the fall. I’m lost. Lost in the wilderness, surrounded by an impenetrable forest that stretches for infinity in every direction. I am the first man to walk the earth. I am the first being that used fire and I gave creation to all things around me. Then I destroyed it. I destroyed everything and I did it again. I made life just so I can destroy it. I made suffering and pain just so mankind can feel the beauty of life. I am the father of every child born. I am the son of every mother.

‘MR HOWIE,’ Dave’s voice booms through my skull, snapping me back to reality. I glance round to see every gun is held and aimed straight at her, even Lillian. Mine is still at my side.

‘Marcy,’ she says, her eyes still locked on mine.

‘MOVE AWAY FROM THE BOY,’ Dave roars. None of them move. Not one of them willing to take an order from anyone apart from this woman that stands in front of me.

‘Howie…you need to listen to me…’ her tone is soft and pleading, her face, despite the awful red eyes, betrays concern and deep worry.

I stay silent, unable to speak. Nothing seems real. This isn’t real. This is all a fucking dream, some rancid dirty nightmare.

‘Howie…look at me,’ she commands. I didn’t even realise my gaze had dropped. I look back up at her and feel my senses returning, the reality of the now coming back.

‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ I snarl, the anger building in my gut, ‘Dave…get that boy and the dog away from them…if they so much as move fucking shoot them.’

‘On it…Clarence cover me,’ Dave replies.

‘Covering, you’re clear,’ Clarence calls out.

‘Mr Howie…’ The boy stammers.

‘His name is Joe,’ Marcy says softly, ‘he has to tell you something, something awful…and you need to listen to him Howie…you all need to listen to Joe and stay calm.’

‘What? Joe…what’s going on?’

Dave swoops past, his pistol held in a two handed grip. He darts between the group and gets in front of Joe then leads him round the outside and back to our side.

‘Howie, please listen to Joe…you don’t have much time,’ she turns to stare at the fort then looks back me with that same worried expression.

‘Joe, what’s happened? You stay the fuck there…don’t fucking move…any of you.’

‘We will not move an inch Mr Howie, you have our solemn promise,’ the small man with the glasses says in a quiet serious voice, ‘but I would also urge you to listen to young Joe and do so quickly.’

I turn to see Dave leading Joe towards me. The dog still staring fixed at Marcy. Joe’s face looks terrified, tear streaked and his eyes swollen from crying.

Crouching down I wait for him to come in front of me, he looks terrified, shaking with fear.

‘What’s happened mate? Why are you here with these…er…?’

‘They didn’t hurt me….they’re zombies but they didn’t hurt me Mr Howie…’

‘I can see that Joe, why are you out here with Meredith?’

‘The fort…’ he bursts into tears, loud heaving sobs.

‘What about the fort?’ I ask him gently, ‘Joe…what’s happened?’

He sobs harder, his legs give out as he sinks to the ground covering his head. His thin body heaving.

I look up at Marcy to see her biting her bottom lip in concern at the lad, ‘get him away, I can tell you,’ she says softly.

‘Lani, take Joe to the vehicle,’ she rushes over with Lillian, together they get him to his feet and walk him away, heading towards the Saxon.

‘Well?’ I demand as he walks off. I glare at Marcy, she looks back seemingly unsure of how to start.

‘The fort’s been taken…Joe was running up the road when we got here…he said the things were inside and were killing everyone…Listen to me,’ she says firmly as I step towards her, ‘this is not from us…we did not do this…’ she motions her group, ‘Joe said everyone was being bitten, he said it was all over the place…’ She takes a deep breath and continues, ‘he said Chris told him to run and keep running, and to find Howie…to find you and tell you what happened and to tell you not to go back…’

‘What?’ I say with a shake of my head.

‘What the fuck?’ Blowers exclaims, he takes a step closer. They all do. Lani leaves Joe with Lillian and moves back towards us.

Marcy swallows and looks to each face in turn, ‘you have to listen…I came here…we came here,’ she corrects herself, ‘to hand ourselves into you…you said you had doctors and medical equipment…’

‘Marcy what the fuck is this? What…the fort has gone?’

‘Howie…please hear me out…we came here to hand ourselves in so you could test us and find a vaccine…or…or…I don’t know…work out what this thing is…someone got here before us Howie…the things got here and took the fort.’

‘That’s not possible, it’s too well defended…they can’t get in.’

‘They have and they are,’ she says firmly.

‘We have to get in there…make ready,’ I snap the order.

‘What about them?’ Dave nods at the small group.

‘Howie…you’re not listening…the fort is gone…Joe said everyone had bite marks…just a few turned in there would wipe the place out,’ she adds.

‘This is a fucking trick…what the fuck are you doing?’ I raise my rifle and aim it at her.

‘No,’ she shakes her head, ‘no tricks…’

‘We saw what you were fucking capable of on the Island…I fucking spoke to you…’

‘You did! And you said you had doctors and medical equipment…remember that? You offered to take me in.’

‘Someone get Joe up here…this is some kind of dirty scheme, get down on your fucking knees now…all of you.’

‘Do as he says,’ Marcy says to the other three. They lower themselves down and stare back at me.

‘He’s here,’ Lani calls out.

‘Joe? I know you're upset but you have to tell me what happened…exactly what happened…’

‘The things were inside…they were already in there…they must have been cos they just started biting everyone, they was biting people and pushing ‘em away and biting more…’

‘Where Joe? Where in the fort was this happening?’

‘Everywhere,’ he says weakly. I turn round to watch him. He stands just a few feet from me, shaking from head to toe with Lani holding an arm round his shoulders. ‘Everyone had bite marks...Sarah got me…she got me to Chris and he said I had to get the dog out, he said I was a fast runner and I had to run away with Meredith cos she’s immune and he said to keep running and find you…’

‘You saw Sarah?’

He nods as fresh tears fall from his eyes, ‘she went down Mr Howie…she was bit.’

I look down at the ground and take a deep breath, my heart hammering in my chest as my stomach drops.

‘She saved me…Chris was on the slope and she fought them away so I could get to him…’

‘Fuck,’ Cookey says softly.

‘Did…’ I fight to keep control, ‘did Chris say anything else?’

‘He said to tell Clarence he was a fat wanker,’ the boy realises what he’s said and suddenly looks frightened. Clarence rocks on his feet, he drops down to a crouch and bows his head.

‘They was fighting at the gate….Chris had a gun and shot them and then he ran at them and beat them away and shouted and told me to get out…’

‘Oh my god,’ Nick shakes his head, staring at me in shock.

‘This is fucked up…it’s got to be a fucking trap,’ Blowers stammers.

‘You did this?’ I draw my pistol and ram the end into Marcy’s forehead.

‘She didn’t do nothing Mr Howie,’ Joe yells out, ‘she was here when I came out…they was walking down…she weren’t inside.’

‘You did this…you did this…’ I press the gun firmer into her head. She looks up at me, bracing so she doesn't fall back. Pure fury is surging up inside me.

‘No,’ she shakes her head and stares up, ‘not us…I swear it…this isn’t anything to do with us…we came here to give ourselves up to you.’

‘Why?’ I scream at her.

‘Because you said,’ she flinches from me, ‘you said you had doctors and equipment Howie…we’re not the same as the others…we can talk and think and do normal things…’

‘Darren could fucking speak…look what he did the dirty fucking bastard, you did this…’

‘Darren was twisted and corrupt…the infection made him like that…we’re normal…we think and speak for ourselves with normal intelligence…’

‘Boss, what we doing?’ I twist round to see Clarence back on his feet, his face set and determined.

‘We’re going in there.’

‘You can’t,’ Marcy cuts me off, ‘Eight of you…against what? Several thousand? Think Howie…you’ll be slaughtered…’

‘What do you fucking care…you're one of them.’

‘No,’ she shouts with feeling, ‘I am not one of them…we are not them.’

‘Then what are you?’

‘We’re…different…’ she says slowly.

‘Fuck off, we’re going in there and we’ll fucking kill every one of them…that’s what we do...’

‘Go ahead,’ she yells at me, ‘shoot me, shoot all of us…go inside and see everyone you knew is now turned…then shoot them too Howie…shoot your sister and your friends.’

My hand is at her throat, driving her down into the floor as I press the gun into her face. Dave and the others stride forward, aiming their rifles at the Marcy’s three associates who start to rise as the sight of me pushing her down.

‘You lying fucking bitch…’ I squeeze my grip harder, feeling the softness of her neck. Rage burns through me as I stare down into those awful red eyes. Something about her terrifies me, utterly terrifies me and makes me want to kill her, but at the same time there’s a sadness in her eyes, an expression of regret and sorrow.

‘Do it,’ she gasps, ‘I won’t fight you…’

‘You took Sarah…’

‘Not me.’

‘She was all I had left…’

‘I didn’t do it,’ she fights for air, saliva dribbles from her mouth, ‘it wasn’t us…we don’t take anymore.’

‘You're lying,’ I scream at the top of my voice, my face inches from hers.

‘She’s not,’ the old woman shouts, ‘I gave myself willingly to her…she wouldn’t take us, we all gave ourselves to her.’

‘Shut the fuck up,’ Blowers shouts at the woman.

‘Young man,’ the women stares at him with an icy glare, ‘you may tell me to shut up but do not swear at me.’

‘I’m not lying Howie…neither is she…we’ve got thousands of us hidden away…we came here to find you Howie…to surrender.’

‘BITCH,’ I scream, spittle flies from my mouth, landing on her cheeks.

She tries to swallow, I feel it beneath my hand, her face going red from the tightness of my grip.

‘So you don’t take then?’ I growl at her. She shakes her head, a small movement restricted by my hand and the pistol jammed into her forehead.

‘You don’t want to feast and bite,’ I say the words slowly, savouring them, drawing them out…’why not? Don’t you have the hunger they do? Don’t you want to bite and take my blood…’

She shakes her head again. Staring at me with terrified eyes.

‘Liar,’ I whisper at her. Sarah is gone. She’s dead. One of them. The whole fort has been lost. Chris, Terri, Ted…all of them.

‘I’m not lying,’ she whispers.

I release my hand from her throat, she gasps for air, drawing in huge gulps, ‘yeah?...don’t wanna bite me?’

‘Mr Howie,’ Dave shouts in alarm as I push my hand to Marcy’s mouth.

‘Bite me…come on…fucking bite me….’ She tries to squirm, pulling her head away. I push the gun harder into her forehead, grinding the back of her head into the earth, ‘come on you lying bitch…bite me…fucking bite me…’

She clamps her mouth shut and stares at me with defiance, an angry stare that she holds for several seconds. Then she opens her mouth. I push my thumb into her mouth and feel the warm wetness inside. I can feel her teeth gently brushing against the sides of the digit.

‘Bite it…make me one of you…’

Her head moves side to side, refusing to yield. She savours my thumb, I can tell she does. I can tell she wants to bite. Her tongue runs over the end, licking and caressing it but she doesn't bite.

‘ENOUGH,’ Dave roars.

I pull my hand away and gently lower the pistol from her head.  A perfect round hole left marked on her skin from the barrel. I stagger away from her, taking steps to the side.

‘Give me your hand,’ Dave follows me. He pulls a small plastic bottle of anti-bacterial gel from his pocket and grabs my wrist. He squeezes the gel out and rubs it onto my thumb, coating my hand and wrist with the disinfectant. I stare back at the fort, the pistol hanging limp from my hand.

‘Where’s my rifle?’ I suddenly realise I don’t have it.

‘I’ve got it boss,’ Nick says, he walks over and hands it over as Dave let’s go, ‘here,’ Nick hands me a cigarette.

I take it and light the end while I stare at the fort. Disgusted at myself for what I just did. A deep sense of shame flooding through me. I can’t take this in. Everyone in the fort is gone. This must be a trap, something to lure us away. But then she could have bitten me, she could have simply clamped down with her teeth and I’d be infected. The shame of hurting her like that conflicts with what she is. Confusion clouds my mind. She killed Stephen and Tom, she killed my parents and everyone I ever loved but she didn’t bite me. I feel sickened. Sickened from the thrill I felt inside when I felt her tongue licking my thumb. A flutter inside my gut that excited me.

‘Are you okay Marcy?’ The man with the glasses asks from somewhere behind me.

‘Don’t move,’ Blowers warns.

‘I want to check on her,’ he demands.

‘I’m fine Reggie.’

‘Let me check.’

‘Don’t fucking move,’ Blowers shouts again.

‘Let them move,’ I snap without looking round. My eyes fixed on the fort. I can still feel her tongue on my thumb, the warmth of her mouth, the wetness of being inside her.

I shake my head and focus. Too many things spinning in my mind. My sister…Sarah. She’s inside there.

‘We need to check inside, stay here with this lot, I’ll take the Saxon down and look.’

‘No way,’ Clarence rumbles, ‘I’m coming with you.’

‘No,’ Dave adds firmly, ‘you stay here…I’ll go with him.’

‘Okay,’ Clarence agrees.

‘Take April with you…she can go inside…you’ll be taken if they see you,’ Marcy adds quickly.

I turn back to stare at her as the other young woman gets slowly to her feet. I stare at April, she looks at Marcy then at me without expression.

‘No,’ Clarence shakes his head, ‘we’ll all go…’

‘What?’ I ask him.

‘You’ll go for them, I can see by your face boss, we all go.’

‘No mate,’ I shake my head, ‘stay here and wait.’

‘Dave…don’t let him go inside…bring him back,’ Clarence says.

‘Okay,’ Dave answers.

I start walking to the Saxon, Dave follows me. ‘What about the girl?’ Blowers asks as April starts walking towards the vehicle.

‘I don’t care, she can come if she wants.’ I climb into the driver’s seat feeling numb. The thoughts still spinning so fast that I feel sick. Like my head will explode if it carries on.

‘Nick, get on the GPMG,’ Dave shouts. The lad runs ahead, clambering in the back and up the hole.

Dave gets into the back and motions for the girl to sit in the front. She gets in and sits in the passenger seat. Dave draws his pistol and presses it to the back of her head, letting her know it’s there.

‘I won’t do anything,’ April speaks for the first time, her voice low and soft.

‘No…you won’t,’ Dave replies bluntly. I start the engine and pull away, veering the vehicle round the group. Marcy watches me closely as I go by. I stare back at her before pulling my gaze away and looking to the fort.

I drive straight down the middle, the speed increasing as I push my foot down harder. The big wheels absorb the ruts and holes of the rough surface. Sweat drips down my neck and drips from my chin.

The outer door is open. Wide open. No sign of any guards. A figure steps into the doorway, silhouetted in the shadows. It stands there watching for a few seconds.

Leaning forward I try to see who it is, straining my eyes but not making any details out. As we get closer the figure steps out. I brake hard, slamming my foot onto the pedal and bringing the vehicle to a rapid stop. April jolts forward, just managing to put her hands out to prevent her head slamming on the front.

‘Mr Howie…’ Dave shouts as I open the door and jump down. I stride towards the figure, my heart beating faster than ever before. My breath feels stifled like I can’t breathe quick enough.

Dave runs ahead of me and stops my progress, ‘go back…’ he says flatly.

I barge through him and keep walking, my eyes fixed on the figure that stands there watching me.

‘Mr Howie,’ he grabs my wrist and pulls me back. I try to wrench free but he grips me too hard. April runs to stand in front of me and faces the figure, like presenting herself as a guard.

‘Nick, if she moves you fire,’ Dave calls out.

‘I will.’

‘Don’t Nick…don’t shoot,’ I try to say but my voice catches in my throat.

‘Sarah?’ I call out. My sister stands there watching me. She looks uninjured then I see the blood on her leg. She looks at the vehicle, then up at Nick and then finally her gaze settles on April.

‘OUT HERE,’ Sarah yells out, ‘HOWIE’S OUT HERE,’ her voice is flat but loud.

‘Mr Howie,’ Dave grunts as he starts dragging me backwards. I try to fight him off. April turns and grabs my other side, both of them dragging me back to the Saxon.

‘SARAH,’ I scream.

She starts moving forward as Nick fires a few rounds into the ground in front of her.

‘NICK…DON’T YOU FUCKING FIRE.’

‘Get him in the vehicle…’ Dave pulls me with vicious strength. April digs in, gripping me hard as they manhandle me.

Others start running out of the gate, Nick opens up, firing straight into it and shredding them before they take more than a couple of steps.

I get pushed into the back of the vehicle by Dave and April as Nick continues to fire.

‘Can you drive?’ Dave shouts at April.

She doesn't reply but climbs over into the driver’s seat and takes control of the vehicle. She pulls away, driving forward and then sweeping round in a wide circle before facing back down the road.

‘I’m okay…’ I get to my feet as Dave stares at me with sharp eyes.

‘They’re pouring out the gates,’ Nick yells down.

‘Mr Howie…you need to switch on and deal with this…everyone is looking to you, do you understand?’ Dave whispers fiercely.

I nod back, gulping as I look at him.

‘You can’t lose it…not you.’

‘I’m okay.’

‘Are you?’

‘I’m fine…fine Dave.’ He stares hard at me before nodding and looking out the window as April brings the vehicle to a stop beside group.

I push the rear doors open and jump down, taking a quick glance at the mass of bodies charging out the now open gates.

‘Form a line here and make ready,’ I shout and point at the ground just behind the Saxon. The lads respond quickly, running over to kneel on the dirt road. They start grabbing magazines and putting them on the floor in front of them. ‘Nick, get down here…Dave on the GPMG…Lillian, stay close to Blowers and follow his instructions…Joe…get inside the vehicle with the dog and stay there. I run back to the front of the vehicle and grab my assault rifle from the side of the driver’s seat.

‘What about us?’ Marcy shouts as I run past her.

I stop dead and stare at her, then at the other three, April now stood back with them.

‘We need to leave here…don’t do this…don’t kill them,’ Marcy says.

‘Why not?’ I ask her with a humourless smile as I eject my magazine and check it.

‘Because you know them…they’re your people, Joe said the dog is immune,’ she speaks quickly with nervous glances at the thick crowds in the distance, ‘what if we can find a cure…you kill them and that’s it…no going back.’

‘How do we find a cure Marcy?’ I ram the magazine back into the assault rifle, ‘the doctors are now your lot and all the equipment is in there.’ I yank the bolt back.

‘There’ll be somewhere else we can try…just go...get in the vehicle and go…let me try and speak with them.’

‘What?’

‘Let me try, I’m one of them Howie… get in your vehicle and get ready to go…let me try, please let me try.’

‘Marcy they’re not us,’ April cuts in, ‘there was no connection, nothing…the one I saw was like a stranger.’

‘I’m not you April,’ Marcy says without hostility.

‘They are not our kind Marcy…she saw me, looked at me, knew what I was…but showed no reaction.’ The long speech makes me realise how flat her voice is, like monotone and without expression.

‘Aren’t you all connected?’ I ask quickly.

‘No it doesn't work like that,’ Marcy replies with a frown.

‘Your fucking boyfriend had thousands,’ Nick shouts, closer to us he hears the conversation.

‘I don’t know how it works,’ Marcy exclaims, ‘and we don’t really have the time to discuss it right now,’ she looks to the crowd marching towards us.

It looks like every member of the fort has come out. All marching at the same pace directly towards us.

‘Well there it is,’ I say, ‘your…woman,’ I spit the word out, ‘said they’re not part of your perfect little clan so you can’t control them…they’re fucking undead…so we kill ‘em…that’s what we do.’

‘Why haven’t you killed us then? We’re undead…we’re zombies…’

‘Marcy I think now is not the time to goad this rather angry young man,’ Reginald says quietly with a nervous glance at me.

‘Are you really going to do this?’ She demands.

‘Yep…you know why? Because we get people turning up here every day, survivors that have heard about the safe fort…they’ll die if we don’t stop these things now.’

‘But your sister is in there.’

‘No,’ I snarl with venomous fury, ‘my sister is dead…everyone in that fort is dead…those things are not the people we left this morning.’

‘For god’s sake Howie, I’m the same person I was before I turned…can you not see this?’

‘Are you? This big group you said you had….where did they come from Marcy? Because we killed every fucking one of them that Darren had.’

‘Listen…’

‘Answer the fucking question,’ I roar at her, ‘where did they come from?’

‘I turned them but that was before…’

‘Before what? Before you suddenly decided to hand yourself in…get fucked.’

‘Before I realised what we are,’ she yells at me, ‘before I understood the potential of this thing inside us…we don’t feel pain, we don’t suffer…’

‘Save it and fuck off.’ I turn away from her. She grabs my arm and spins me round, her face contorted with a look of pure determination.

‘If you kill them there is no going back…Darren said you were good…he said Howie was righteous and always doing the right thing…if you do this you’re no better than him…he was sick, do you understand?’ She speaks loud and fast, pronouncing every word clearly, ‘he was demented from the infection…he thought it was his to use as he wanted.’

‘And what? What do we do? Find another doctor and more equipment and somehow find a fucking cure and then come back and give it to them while they all line up and wait patiently? Don’t be so fucking stupid…’

‘We can…’

‘What about the survivors that turn up later or tomorrow? What about them? They’ll walk down this road and get fucking killed because we’re pissing around trying to find a fucking needle in a haystack…do you know how lucky we were to find those doctors and get that equipment…we’ve got the fucking fuel to run the generators right there,’ I point back at the tanker, ‘we had everything we needed…’

‘So what’s your plan?’ She asks folding her arms with a stubborn expression.

‘Plan? Nick…do you want to tell her the plan…’

‘Kill ‘em all,’ he says bluntly.

‘Every one of them,’ Blowers adds.

‘With eight of you? How the hell….’

‘With a big fucking machine gun and a truly nasty bastard holding it…that’s how.’

‘Mr Howie,’ Dave calls down.

‘I didn’t mean that Dave…I was making a point.’

‘We don’t have enough ammunition for all of them.’

‘What!?’

‘We used a lot today, at the refinery and then getting the tanker…we won’t have enough.’

‘We’ve got the assault rifles…and all the guns we collected…’

‘Okay…just thought I would mention it.’

‘Noted.’

‘Roger.’

‘You lot are mad,’ Marcy shakes her head, ‘we’re not the sick ones…’

‘Marcy we should go, this isn’t our fight,’ Reginald says quickly.

‘Yeah Marcy,’ I sneer, ‘this isn’t your fight…go and fucking pretend not to be a rancid diseased whore somewhere else.’ She slaps my face hard. An instinctive reaction that stings my cheek and turns my head to one side.

‘You were meant to be good,’ she whispers. I look back at her to see a tear falling from one red bloodshot eye.

Silence as she stares at me, that single tear rolls down her cheek to be absorbed by the soft skin of her upper lip. It leaves a wet trail, distinct against her tanned skin.

‘We’re going,’ she turns to Reginald then looks at the advancing horde. Without another word she walks off, the other three following in her wake. Mildred gives me a withering look as she passes.

‘We just letting them walk off?’ Clarence asks.

I shrug and stare at the retreating forms as they move up the road towards the estate, ‘shoot them if you want.’

I can’t take my eyes off Marcy. The feeling of shame burns through me. Shame at pinning her down and hurting her, shame at calling her a diseased rancid whore. Shame at feeling the electrifying tingle of pleasure as her tongue licked my thumb. Shame for not killing all four of them. Shame at everything I have ever done, for who I am and what I’ve become. Shame for that tear that fell from her eye and the look of hurt she gave me.

None of the lads fire at the four walking away. None of us having the stomach for cold-blooded murder like that, for that’s what it would be; murder. They didn’t threaten us, they didn’t try and hurt us. And that girl April, she put herself between me and Sarah, as though defending me. Why? Why do that?

Maybe she was protecting Sarah, but then she’d be facing me if that was the case. No, she was protecting me from Sarah. From my own sister who was one of her own kind.

This is fucked up. Everything is fucked up beyond recognition and I don’t know what to do. The horde are coming at us and every bone in my body is demanding for them to be killed. They should be killed. But they were our people, Chris is in there, Terri, Debbie, Ted and Sarah. Kelly the engineer and the doctors. All the guards from the gates.

Indecision and shock cripple my mind. Too much, this is all too much. We should just load up and go, find somewhere safe and hide away. Take the Saxon and the fuel tanker and leave all of this shit. Let them fight to the death and wipe each other out.

But that fort. That fort is our place. We fought for it, killed and lost our own so we could have that place and now it’s taken from us. Is it worth it? If we killed this horde now what would be the reason? To take the fort back or revenge? Or simply because they are undead and that’s what we do. We kill. We take life and kill.

Where’s the limit? At what point do we withdraw and say enough is enough. Those things coming at us now are our own people, women and children we saved, rescued and brought back to safety. Men who fought alongside us. Debbie was right. I’m just a supermarket manager and I’m in way over my head now.

These people are all looking to me for a decision, stay or go. Kill or flee. Murder or live our lives and try to forget this place ever existed.

You were meant to be good.

Who the fuck is she to judge me. She’s undead. A dirty filthy diseased undead. Rancid and fetid with unclean blood.

You were meant to be good.

Good? Who said I had to be good? This was never about being good. This was about survival and doing the right thing.

Oh.

Shit.

There it is. Doing the right thing. Fuck it. Our way was the good way. Doing what was needed for the protection of others. We killed but we did it to protect our species. I look back at the fuel tanker and feel a sudden pang of guilt for the lives that were lost when the refinery went up. Now there is no more fuel in that place, just a dirty black cloud scorching the heavens.

Dave grips the machine gun on the top of the Saxon. Joe stands in the back holding the dog at his side. Clarence stands at the far end of the line, the others all kneeling and waiting. They’re all waiting.

We lost the fort but it’s still there. The high walls are still there. The equipment is still inside it with the food and the armoury. The people have changed but the fort remains.

There are other survivors. Scared people that need somewhere safe and decent. Not like the refinery where evil twisted men take the power and become corrupt and greedy.

Maddox and his kids and more groups everywhere. Word will spread and this place will be a beacon for hope.

I see it now. I see what we have to do.

The grip of indecision eases off as my mind settles and I feel clear.

‘We have to take it back,’ I speak clearly and look along at them all, ‘but that is just my instinct, if any of you feel different then say so now…’

‘I agree,’ Clarence replies in his deep voice.

‘It’s ours…we gave too much to lose it,’ Nick says.

‘I’m in,’ Blowers adds quietly.

‘Lani?’

‘I agree, you know those people but no more than I knew some of the people on the Isle of Wight…they turned and so have these…they aren’t people now, they’re things.’

‘Dave?’

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

‘What do you think?’

‘I just said…I meant yes as in yes we should take it back.’

‘Cookey, you’re unusually quiet.’

He scratches his head with a puzzled frown, ‘er…I kinda thought that’s what we were doing anyway…but yeah I agree, we know them and stuff and like it’s gonna be hard but er….it’s our fort and we don’t really have anywhere else to go…and like…if we don’t kill them then they will do others in and…and…well that ain’t right and you always said we had to do the right thing…’ He takes a breath, ‘that er…that chick with the big tits…’

‘Alex.’

‘Sorry Dave…that Marcy with the big tits,’ he carries on missing the point of Dave’s interjection, ‘she said you were meant to be good but like…she meant us didn’t she…she meant we’re the good guys cos like we do what you say…and she said that we shouldn’t kill ‘em cos they were our people but she missed the point…and…and well we have to kill ‘em cos they’ll kill more if we don’t…and even if we do get a cure or somethin’ then it’ll be too late for this lot…and they…well they ain’t the only ones left are they?’

Everyone stares at the young man as he finishes off and looks awkwardly at the ground, ‘fuck it…I know what I mean but like…it didn’t come out right…’

‘It did mate,’ I reply to him.

‘Came out perfectly Cookey,’ Clarence adds.

‘It did,’ Blowers nods at his mate.

‘Cheers,’ Cookey grins sheepishly.

‘Bloody hell, the lad’s got a brain buried somewhere in there,’ Clarence smiles.

‘He hasn’t,’ Blowers says quickly, ‘he wrote that speech ages ago and had it ready.’

‘Fuck off Blowers…I didn’t.’

‘Big tits?’ Lani asks with a shake of her head.

‘What? She has got big tits…they were bloody amazing,’ Cookey protests.

‘Was a great rack,’ Nick nods ruefully.

‘Rack?’ Lani continues to shake her head, ‘is that all you think about? A zombie woman turns up talking and not biting us…and generally being the opposite to every other zombie we’ve met and all you see is the big pair of tits.’

‘Er….yes?’ Cookey grins.

‘Is that bad?’ Blowers laughs.

‘The other one was fit too,’ Cookey sighs.

‘What was her name? April?’ Nick asks.

‘Yeah April, she was fit as…’ Blowers says.

‘True,’ Nick nods, ‘lovely arse.’

‘Oh did you see it, it was like…perfect…just perfect,’ Blowers replies.

‘Man…if I get turned I hope it’s by her,’ Cookey sighs again, ‘and I know just where she can bite me too.’

‘ALEX!’ Dave and Lani shout together.

‘What?’ He says innocently, ‘just saying…if she put sunglasses on you’d never know she was a zombie.’

‘Can you stop saying that bloody word please,’ Clarence moans.

‘Which word?’ Cookey seizes it on quick as a flash as Clarence groans.

‘You mean zombie?’ Nick asks.

‘Which one? The zombie word?’ Blowers grins.

‘Can we focus on the giant fucking horde charging at us?’ Clarence snaps.

‘They are getting closer,’ Lani observes.

‘Er…is it always like this?’ Lillian asks, speaking for the first time since we stopped.

‘Yep,’ Lani replies dully, ‘always…always always always…they never bloody stop…you’d think this would shut them up wouldn’t you? Oh no…’ she shakes her head, ‘a nuclear bomb wouldn’t stop them.’

The three lads chuckle proudly while grinning at Lillian.

‘Boss…we need to start shooting before they get any closer, they’ll flank and swarm us otherwise,’ Clarence says seriously.

‘Okay…lads you ready?’ I get a chorus of replies in the affirmative.

‘Dave, you ready?’

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

I raise my rifle and aim down the sights, ‘fuck ‘em…we’ll win,’ I pull the trigger and listen to the explosion of sound coming from the assault rifles to my side and the GPMG firing above.

Thirty-Seven

‘You’ve done the right thing,’ Reginald offers. He struggles to keep up as Marcy stalks through the ruined estate. Her face a picture of fury as she strides faster and faster.

‘You did everything you could Marcy, it was just bad luck that someone got to the fort ahead of us.’

She doesn't reply but just stares fixed at the road ahead of her.

‘He wasn’t a nice man…’ Reginald continues, ‘he was rude and very aggressive, not at all what I had expected. You’d think he would at least show basic manners given the effort we’ve taken to get here and we did look after that boy until he arrived too.’

She presses on showing no reaction.

‘And pushing that gun in your face was just barbaric…utterly barbaric, you’ve still got the mark on your head now, it’ll bruise you know.’

No reaction. A dark look on her face.

‘I mean, I know he just found out his sister has been turned and yes, granted, seeing her stood in front of him like that must have been very alarming especially, as April said, she called out to alert those inside that her brother was there…practically giving him up, but be that as it may, and as shocking and distressing as that is, Mr Howie needs to understand that he isn’t the only one to suffer loss.’

She doesn't say anything but walks on, the dark look on her face starting to ease.

‘Indeed I am glad to be away from there. As I said, Mr Howie was not what I was expecting in any degree. The power of the man is apparent. His ability to lead appears unquestionable and I know I certainly felt a level of…well I don’t know how to say it but…intrinsic, yes I felt an intrinsic fear of him…no…not fear, wariness say or…well, just an awareness of who he is.

Marcy walks on maintaining the same pace but now looking down at the ground instead of fixed on the distance ahead.

‘But good heavens what does he expect calling you a diseased rancid whore like that. Unforgivable, truly it was. Again yes, you did run with Darren who we know caused the death of some his closest people and obviously that lad who died that night in the stairwell, so under normal circumstances one could feel a degree of sympathy for the anger and hurt he feels towards you. But to call you such an insulting term in front of others was abhorrent.’

She begins to slow the frantic pace.

‘And that act of defilement, good god that was…well it was humiliating is what it was. Thrusting his thumb into your mouth like that…what was the man thinking of! How on earth you held back and didn’t bite down is beyond me. What an utterly stupid act of…of…well of stupidity, yes, a stupid act of stupidity. He was actually looking you in the eye and telling you to bite him! I saw it…we all saw it…telling you to bite him! Now that was either the single most bravest act I have ever witnessed or the single most stupidest and I know full well which way I am veering in my opinion let me tell you that…’

She stops suddenly, spinning round to stare back and breathing hard.

‘What? What’s wrong?’ Reginald asks in alarm.

Marcy lifts a hand to her mouth and touches her lips gently. She looks at Reginald who stares back blinking. She looks at April who stares back blankly. She looks at Mildred who nods. A slight movement, just a dip of the head. But it’s enough.

Marcy starts running.

Thirty-Eight

‘MAGAZINE,’ someone from the line bellows. Hard habits ingrained from Dave’s instruction. The first magazines are ejected and thrown into the back of the vehicle, new ones rammed in, bolts yanked back, rifles raised, triggers depressed.

As soon as we start firing they start running. Charging across the flatlands towards us. A solid unbroken dark mass of undead, thousands of them. They’re some distance off but every step brings them closer.

Whoever is running them has more experience than Darren as the sides of the horde start to overtake the middle. The shape of the ranks bending to a horseshoe.

‘They’re gonna flank us,’ Clarence shouts as he changes magazine.

‘AIM FOR THE SIDES,’ Dave roars down. As one the assault rifles adjust position and fire into the moving sides of the mass. Bodies go down as the rounds hit home but they keep coming. Charging with increasing speed and holding that pattern as the two flanks stretch further out.

The GPMG holds on the middle section, cutting the numbers down in droves but even Dave has to focus the fire and give steady short bursts to control the rapid loss of the large calibre ammunition.

The undead stretch further out to the sides, moving very rapidly to increase the flanking position. I suddenly think back to all the movies and documentaries where they talk about pincer movements, flanking and buffalo horn formations.

With such a long line we find it hard to focus our fire and suddenly the small amount of guns we have become apparent against such a large number of undead.

I fire at the left flank, focussing my fire and aiming for the upper body. I down body after body but I also miss some shots because of their rapid movement out to the sides. The GPMG bursts become shorter and shorter as Dave aims for the central mass.

Changing magazine I glance round and see the thickness of the ranks still coming at us. Now much closer and gaining with every second. I can see the individual people now, make out male and female. I turn away before I recognise any of them. A quick glance shows me the others doing the same, averting their eyes while they change magazine.

‘DAVE…GO HEADSHOTS,’ I shout.

‘I HAVE BEEN.’ He opens up with the last final burst. A whole line of skulls exploding like melons. Pink mists puffing into the air as he strafes across the central section.

Taking aim I keep on single shot, feeling the recoil of the rifle with each press of the trigger. Watching as they drop and spin off from the power of the bullets.

‘I’M OUT,’ Dave roars as the GPMG clicks empty.

‘GO TO THE FORT AND GET SOME MORE,’ Clarence shouts.

‘SERIOUSLY?’ I shout.

‘NO, I WAS JOKING…I THINK WE’RE FUCKED.’

‘AIM FOR THE MIDDLE, FULL AUTO,’ I shout and turn to aim into the middle. I flick the switch and hold steady as I unload the magazine into the dense central ranks. The assault rifles burst to life as we fire unrestrained into them.

A dull roar sweeps as they give voice, encouraged and charged up from the GPMG running empty. They speed up, coming at us faster than ever.

Changing magazine I glance round and see Dave quickly showing Joe how to push and load a fresh magazine into a rifle. The lad nods and starts ramming them into the spare assault rifles.

‘CLARENCE TO ME,’ Dave shouts. Clarence spins round to see Dave stood there with two assault rifles held at waist height. He aims for the oncoming central rank and pulls both triggers at the same time. His small body judders with the recoil of the two assault rifles.

Once empty he casts them down and scoops two more up, Joe quickly grabbing the two discarded weapons to change the magazines.

Clarence moves to the back and grabs another one, copying Dave he stands with two rifles and empties both at the charging mass.

We fire and fire. The air splitting apart from the noise. The stench of cordite hitting our already scorched throats. Grimy sweat pours down our faces as the scorching sun burns down on us.

With a final almighty roar they give a final charge, finding more speed and power as they sprint. Faces twisted in utter hatred, teeth pulled back, arms pumping wildly.

‘GET IN…GET IN NOW,’ I scream out, shocked at the burst of speed they give. They were holding back to keep us static. Waiting until the last second before showing that conserved energy. These are freshly turned and healthy. Full of strength and power.

Clarence dumps his rifles inside and grabs Lillian, launching her into the back, he twists and grabs Lani doing the same. Dave stands central holding two rifles and firing into their legs, bringing them to down to trip the ones following, buying us seconds.

I move back towards the Saxon. They’re so close now. Just metres away and coming in from three sides. Feeling the back of the Saxon I give a final burst from my rifle and dive in. Strong hands pull me away from the doors as they get slammed shut. Loud thuds follow within a second as the horde reaches the vehicle.

I’m up and scrabbling for the front, cursing as I see the thick crowds in front of the vehicle. I start the engine as the vehicle rocks from the solid press of thuds and bangs coming from the outside. Bodies clamber over the front and lie over the windscreen blocking my view. I push the pedal down and feel the vehicle start to move. I press harder and feel as the vehicle struggles to make ground.

I slam the gear into reverse and push my foot down again. The vehicle backs just inches before  coming to a halt. Forward and the same thing happens. Reverse and I ram my foot down, we hardly move. No view of outside from the bodies across the windscreen.

‘They’re jamming the wheels,’ Clarence shouts over the sound of Meredith barking like crazy.

Fuck it, we’ve been caught out by fucking zombies doing something clever instead of full on charging. Wankers. Fucking wankers.

I keep trying, turning the wheel hard over and trying to force the movement at an angle.  The engine screams with a mighty roar, bellowing its own frustration and anger at being blocked in.

‘CAN’T SEE A FUCKING THING,’ I scream out and keep trying to jolt forward and back. The things outside roar and slam against the vehicle. Loud bangs that echo dully inside.

With a curse I give up and grip the steering wheel. My knuckles turning white from the pressure. My breathing gets faster. My heart rate increases. Oxygen floods my system, pumping into my muscles as my heart understands what’s about to happen.

An image of Sarah floods my mind. The red eyes, the expressionless face. My sister. My family. Taken by those things.

I climb out of the seat and into the back. Meredith ceases barking and stares at the back of the vehicle, knowing that’s where the doors are and what’s on the other side. A deep bass growl comes from her throat.

‘Here,’ Dave holds my axe out, knowing full well what we’re about to do. I nod back at him as Clarence picks his up. Dave draws his knives and starts rolling his shoulders. The lads ditch their rifles and heft their axes. Lani pulls her meat cleaver. Not a word spoken.

‘Can you drive?’ I look at Lillian. She nods then stares at us all.

‘What are you doing?’

‘We’ll clear the road…get behind the wheel…’

‘What?’ She stares at us in shock, ‘they’ll tear you to pieces.’

‘The dog is immune to the infection, she has to survive…stay in here with Joe, as soon as you see the road is clear you drive and don’t stop for anything.’

‘You can’t do this,’ she shakes her head, ‘you can’t…’

‘What else we gonna do?’ Nick asks with a smile, ‘stay in here and wait for help?’

‘Have you called the police?’ Cookey asks.

‘Yeah, they’re sending a patrol car to check it out,’ Nick replies with a grin.

‘That’s good then,’ Cookey grins back, ‘or we could call the AA, hi there…we seem to be blocked in by a giant horde of zombies…I don’t know if you can send anyone but…’

We all chuckle, apart from Lillian and Joe who just stare at us like they’ve seen a ghost.

‘Right then, out the back doors, clear some space…Joe will close the doors behind us and Lillian will be ready to drive out of here…any questions?’

Nick lights a smoke and inhales quickly, Dave glares at him then shrugs. The others get quick gulps of water and warm flat Lucozade. Nick passes the smoke over to me, Cookey lights one and shares it with Blowers. Dave coughs pointedly.

‘I’m going first,’ I say as I blow a plume of smoke out.

‘It’s my turn,’ Dave replies.

‘I said it first.’

‘But it’s my turn.’

‘You two always go first, give someone else a chance,’ Lani states.

‘I’ll go,’ Cookey offers.

‘Nope…’ I shake my head as I pass the smoke back to Nick.

‘I’m the biggest, I should go,’ Clarence growls.

‘I’m the smallest…’ Dave points out.

‘I’m the only girl…so I should go,’ Lani joins in.

‘Nope,’ I shake my head again.

‘Want the last bit?’ Nick holds the smoke out. I nod and take it, savouring the harsh bite.

‘But…where…I don’t…’ Lillian looks terrified.

‘Just drive out of here okay…head for a big housing estate down that way,’ I point to the side of the Saxon, ‘er…towards Portsmouth…find a lad called Maddox and tell him what happened.’

She nods but looks scared to death.

‘Get ready then,’ I say softly and nod at her. She hesitates then moves off, climbing awkwardly over the seat. ‘It’s just like a car…but much bigger…as soon as you see the road clearing you go, got it?’

She looks up at me over her shoulder and nods again.

‘Lani, I don’t suppose I could persuade you to stay…’

‘Don’t even ask,’ she snaps with a glare.

‘Didn’t think so.’ I move to the back and stand in front of the doors. Dave pushes into my side and budges me over so we’re stood shoulder to shoulder.

‘How the fuck we gonna open the doors? They’ll be pressed against them…’ Cookey suddenly asks.

Dave and I both turn round and shuffle away as Clarence steps forward and stands front centre.

‘Knew I’d go first,’ he mutters.

‘Only cos you’re the biggest,’ I mutter back.

We pause for a second until he turns his head and looks at me, ‘well…say it then?’

‘Eh?...Oh…Sorry…’ I clear my throat, ‘ready lads?’ A chorus of replies, Clarence smiles and looks back to the doors.

‘Ready Dave?’ My voice comes out low and hoarse as the adrenalin starts to flood my system.

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

Thirty-Nine

‘Marcy…I can’t keep up…this…this is too much…we’re safe and away…why are we still running,’ Reginald gasps for breath, his face flushed and gleaming from the sweat pouring down.

Marcy looks back at Reginald and Mildred, both of them trying earnestly to keep up but clearly struggling.

‘Sorry,’ she mutters and starts running faster. April picks her pace up, easily staying beside Marcy. The two young women stride well ahead of the other two.

‘What?...what’s going on? This is too much, really too much. We come all the way over here and get abused by Mr Howie and then the next thing we’re running…and in this heat! I say this is all too much.’

‘Reggie my dear,’ Mildred says, relieved at being able to slow down but feeling a state of happiness at being able to run for the first time in years, ‘you do moan rather a lot.’

Marcy and April open their stride, legs working furiously. They ignore the heat and glaring sun, powering on, back towards their horde.

Forty

She stands quivering with anticipation. Feeling stronger than ever from being with this pack. The energy between them is unlike anything she has ever known or felt before.

The leader, the man with the dark curly hair exudes power. The small one is dangerously violent and has no fear, none whatsoever. Nothing. He is void.

She hears and smells them outside the den. Many of them. All around. The pack starts to gather at the doors and waits. She knows they will open the doors. She knows this pack wants to fight. She accepts this as fact and without hesitation. It is organic and natural. The pack fights; she fights. The pack fights together. Strength in unity. She will stand her ground and fight with them.

The little one is to remain here. That is clear. They fight to protect the little one.

She ceases to bark because the fight is imminent. There is no point to tell them she is here now. She has already told them who she is. She told she has killed many and will kill them all. She told them to stay away from the little one but they did not heed the warning. So now they die.

She knows she will fight because no one is holding her. No hands grip her collar or hold the thick skin on her neck. No one has told her to sit or stay.

She understands this means she is to fight with them. The woman is to stay here with the little one. She will protect him in here while the pack goes out to meet the enemy.

Soft brown eyes fix on the doors. Soft brown eyes pick out a route between the legs. Soft brown eyes that have already decided who will be first out the doors.

The energy builds. An electrifying sensation that pumps through her heart. The pack bond is overwhelming.

The big one at the front makes noise to the pack leader. The pack leader makes noise. The big one shows teeth.

This is it. This is the time.

The big one explodes with incredible strength and bursts the doors open, the pack roars.

At the very first twitch of his leg she is moving, snaking between the legs, barging through those that refuse to move. As daylight flooded the inside of the den her front legs were already leaving the ground.

As the doors fly open to reveal the things she is mid-flight, sailing past the big one and out into the open.

The things have their lips pulled back. They show their teeth.

You want to see teeth? She pulls her lips back. Look at mine…they’re much bigger.

Forty-One

Clarence gently releases the clasp and then explodes, booting the doors open. His enormous strength drives the things back, giving us just enough space to charge.

As the doors go, we give voice. All of us roaring with fury.

Then Meredith sails past my head. Launching herself past Clarence and straight into them. Too late now.

We charge. Clarence leaps with his axe held high. He aims straight for the hole created by Meredith. The strength of the dog is stunning, in the couple of seconds it takes for Dave and I to leap out she’s already killed two and going for the third.

Clarence goes full Viking, swinging the double headed axe round and round, creating space, driving them back and slaughtering anything unfortunate enough to be in the way.

Dave launches high, landing several ranks deep. His arms already spinning as he drops down. The rest of us, the mere mortals that we are, just plough in and start killing things.

We fight out, pushing them back from the doors. Axes swinging and cutting, slicing the things apart. The bloodlust is high as pure rage drives us on. No thought given to who these things were. The thought that someone we know might step in front doesn't factor now. Just death. Kill and kill.

So we do. We kill. It’s what we do.

And we’re good at it.

‘JOE…SHUT THE DOORS,’ I scream back, I glance just enough to see Joe already pulling them closed. Not much bloody point now seeing as no one thought to tie the bloody dog up.

Oh well. We’re here now. Might as well enjoy it. We set to work, destroying anything that comes near us. Lani’s speed is amazing, becoming more like Dave with every fight. Clarence used his strength to slaughter them. The lads use pure brutality. She and Dave, smaller builds and slight in frame, use fluid grace. Dancing, weaving, dropping, spinning. The blades flash and glitter to start with but quickly become blood stained.

I fight with my axe becoming an extension of my body. A part of me. The power builds as I go. My wild hacking and slashing becomes focussed and aimed. Heads split apart. Brains burst. Limbs are taken off. Where I need the axe to be, so it is. I’ve learnt not to think. Just to let it be.

Where-as before there was rage and fury driving me, now there is calm and a state of being. My mind clears, apart from one image. It should be my sister. It should be my family. It should be plenty of people. But it isn’t.

Marcy fills my mind. Not Lani. Not anyone else. I don’t fight it but let it come. I push on, the axe swinging gently in front of me. Every step I take finds me closer to the front. There is no opposition now. These things cannot hurt me.

‘ON HOWIE,’ I hear Clarence roar. I pause, holding ground and wondering calmly what he means. I glance back at the swathe of broken bodies behind me. Something lunges from the side. The speed of the thing is so slow. I can see the freckles on his nose, the way his hair swishes to one side as he comes in. A dirty brown stain on one front tooth. I remove his head and watch it tumble slowly to the ground.

The others fight towards me. I turn back to face forward and see several undead coming at me. I wait for them to come. Then I kill them.

‘GO,’ Dave bellows. I turn back and see we’ve formed our circle with me at the head, the dog bounds over and loops round us as I start off. Dave is at my side and we fight forward. Nick lunges out and grabs the dog by her collar, dragging her into the middle. She goes with him but darts back out as soon as he lets go. Not one of them gets near her. She is too fast, too strong, too aggressive. She rips throats out, takes hands off, she leaps and drives them back with the power of her body.

Another roar and they come in. Driven at us. The sudden press of bodies becomes stifling. My axe whips out and back, out and back. Dave darts forward, spins and comes back. I lose the feeling and realise where I am and what we’re doing. The aggression in them is awful, charging at us with the fresh energy they have.

We start to stagnate, getting bogged down and unable to make ground. Dave takes the lead and charges out, his arms spin as he takes throat after throat out. Bright sprays of blood arcing into the air. Bodies drop and fall as he generates space. We take advantage and fight into it. Axes knives and meat cleaver lashing out. The dog senses the direction we move and goes to the front, holding place beside Dave she becomes a furious wolf of the wild. Something from folklore as she destroys and destroys.  Dave holds to one side, letting her keep hers. The two of them become one.

Animals that fight without fear. Animals that kill simply because they can. Between them they take the undead apart. Knives and teeth killing time and again. Nothing can stand before them. Nothing can survive that deadly scourge.

The undead press into the sides, charging at us. We fight out, holding our formation and slowly working to the front of the vehicle. We cross the front wing and start moving across. Clarence simply reaches out and grabs the body pressing against the windscreen and throws it away.

Lillian and Joe stares out with mouths hanging open. I grin at them quickly and turn back to the job at hand.

‘DAVE…TAKE THE REAR,’ I shout as undead start launching themselves off the top of the vehicle into our circle. It gets messy for a few minutes until we gain control of our ground.

Blowers and Cookey holding the back and fighting up until Dave makes his way to them. He shouts for them to move and steps in as they slink away. The things die mid-air as Dave takes them down.

Meredith leaps high onto the front of the vehicle and spins round, her deadly teeth now at head height. She jumps up onto the roof and removes the ones already up there. Taking hold of them in her teeth, shaking and twisting, ragging them with ease. They fall off, squashing more of their own kind.

She comes back to the front and holds ground there, darting left and right at faces and hands. The sight of her is simply beautiful. Her silky black coat shining in the sun. Her ability to be where she needs to be. Spinning, dropping, lunging and backing up.

If Dave ever comes back as an animal. It’ll be Meredith.

A yell snatches my head round. I turn to see Cookey screaming as Doctor James charges at him. The well-spoken and cultured young doctor now a fetid undead with blood stains round his mouth and lips pulled back. Cookey wilts, hesitating. Blowers doesn't. He steps in and drives the blade of his axe deep into Doctor’s neck, almost severing the head. Cookey rallies and charges back in. The vehicle starts to roll forward, slowly but it’s enough for the undead to see it.

The roar that goes up is deafening. They come in harder than I’ve ever known and pour to the front, clogging the road and preventing the vehicle from being able to pull away.

‘FUCK…LOOK,’ Nick points down the side. I glance down to see a huge black man with massive arms scooping an undead up and driving the body into the arch of the wheels. He grabs another and does it again. Sacrificing his own to prevent the wheels from turning. He keeps going with amazing speed. Slamming body after body down in front of the big rear wheels. The Saxon grinds to a halt. Unable to keep going as he clogs the wheels with bodies.

We’re fucked. We can feel it. We can kill and kill but they outnumber us so heavily that even Dave and Meredith will finally tire before they run out of cannon fodder.

It becomes a battle of survival. Buying time to breathe a few more gulps of air before the inevitable happens. Our circle retracts. We fight shoulder to shoulder as they press in. I need that feeling back. I need that thing that comes over me.

I try to clear my mind but it won’t come. Images of Sarah flood though my head. My parents. Stephen, Tom…Jamie…all of them. Twisted remains of their gruesome bodies lying rotting in the sun. I see Blowers, Cookey and Nick the same, lying in a heap of ruined bodies. Clarence falling like a mighty oak. Lani being ripped limb from limb. I see Dave finally going down under a press of undead.

I had it just a couple of minutes ago. I had that feeling of calm. I need it now. How did I do it?

Marcy.

She dances in front of me, smiling and laughing. The long black hair swaying in the sun. That feeling as her tongue touched my thumb. Her skin was so soft beneath my hand. Her neck so slender and warm. I could feel her breath on my face.

I hold that image close for it drives me. It fills me with calm. I don’t know why and right now I don’t care. I seize that feeling and let it wash over me.

I’m grinning at them. Smiling as they come. The axe has no weight in my hands. I slip out of the circle and head down the side. Nothing can stop me.

Marcy.

They wilt and drop. They fear me. They all fear me. I swing out faster and faster. Each kill is delivered swiftly for I have no wish to torture or cause them pain. Just to end them.

You were meant to be good.

We are the good Marcy. We are the righteous. I reach the big rear wheel and hear Clarence behind me. Yelling at me to keep going as he starts pulling them out.

There’s no point. They’ll just do the other side. But then we only need one rear wheel to be free. I fight out and keep them back from Clarence. The others follow down and form a circle round him as he tugs the bodies free and throws them down.

No sooner than we clear the wheel but they once again press at the front, preventing the vehicle from moving by the sheer press of body weight. Lillian copies what I did and tries reverse but with only one rear wheel free it isn’t enough.

‘TAKE THE FRONT,’ Clarence shouts. I nod back at him as he stands at the rear wheel and fends the undead off.

We split forces as Dave and I fight back to the front. The feeling of calm is still there. It threatens to slip away but then she comes back into my mind and keeps me focussed. Like nothing can hurt me.

I don’t even see the undead now. Just a path in front of me that needs to be taken. My body and the axe become separate to my mind. This must be how Dave feels. Detached and safe. With a confidence that just terrifies them.

But despite how good we might be. Despite how confident we are. The several thousand survivors that we kept safe in the fort will prove to be our undoing. There’s simply too many of them.

Dave and I slaughter them in droves, but for every one we fell, more press forward. A never ending sea of undead faces lunging in with mouths wide open.

They get faster. We fight harder. Separating was another mistake and we’ve no hope of clearing the front. The press of them is just too much. They come in harder still and we do what we can just to stay alive. Back to back we fight. Spinning round to keep all sides clear. As much as they fear me they keep charging. Something driving them to untold levels of violence.

This is it. The day we got the fuel and saw a light at the end of the tunnel. But it’s also the day we blew up a refinery killing many people, lost the fort and then made a monumental mistake as they used a basic pincer movement against us. We didn’t even tie the fucking dog up.

It’s lost. It’s just now a matter of taking as many of them with us as we can. I cry out in horror as we spin round, at the sight of Lillian and Joe staring at me through the windscreen. Behind them stand two undead. The huge black man I saw pushing the bodies under the wheels and another man. He didn’t lock the back doors. Joe didn’t lock them. The undead simply opened the doors and climbed in.

I roar out a warning but it’s too late. Joe and Lillian scream in terror as strong hands reach round to grab them. Open mouths descend and bite down onto their heads. Blood pumps up, covering the undead and spraying onto the inside of the windscreen.

‘DAVE…SEE THOSE MEN,’ I roar as loud as I can, my voice cracking from the heat, the dust, the exertion and from a raging thirst.

‘YES.’

‘KILL THEM…NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS YOU KILL THEM…GO.’

‘I WON’T LEAVE YOU,’ he bellows as his arms spin out.

‘KILL THEM,’ I scream….’CLARENCE…’

‘I HEAR YOU,’ His deep voice booms out, he and the others out of sight somewhere down the side.

‘TWO MEN IN THE SAXON…THEY TOOK JOE AND LILLIAN…’

‘WE’RE BOGGED IN…CAN’T MOVE…’

I roar in frustration and lash out, left, right, left, right…it doesn't matter. We’re done.

‘BOSS…’

‘WHAT?’

‘I THINK THIS MIGHT BE IT…’

‘NO SHIT…’

‘IT’S BEEN AN HONOUR.’

‘THE HONOUR IS MINE, FOR ALL OF YOU…I’M SORRY.’

‘DON’T BE…’

‘MR HOWIE,’ Cookey screams.

‘WHAT?’

‘BLOWERS JUST TOUCHED ME.’

‘BLOWERS…DON’T TOUCH COOKEY…’

‘SORRY…BYE BOSS.’

‘BYE MATE…’ My voice cracks as I hear Clarence give a huge roar, the lads roar with him. I wish I was with them. By their side so we could fall together.

‘Dave.’

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

‘There ain’t much to say mate.’

‘No Mr Howie.’

‘If you survive this…make sure I don’t come back.’

‘I won’t survive Mr Howie…not without you.’

‘Fight your way out…’

Meredith appears, pushing through the legs. Hearing me shout she must have fought her way to us. She’s bleeding from several spots but joins us quickly. Still leaping and taking them down.

‘Take the dog Dave…take her and get out.’

‘No.’

‘Dave…take the fucking dog and get out…you can make it you know you can.’

‘No and don’t ask me again.’

‘You’re a stubborn bloody man Dave.’

‘I won’t leave you…not ever Mr Howie…’

‘Fine.’

‘Fine.’

‘Glad that’s sorted then.’

‘Me too.’

‘FIGHT YOU MOTHERFUCKERS,’ a voice almost as loud as Dave but with a deep American accent booms from somewhere. The undead surge with a palpable change in energy.

‘Dave…with me,’ I gasp. He joins at my side as we fight our way back to the Saxon. We clear the ground and climb onto the bonnet and then onto the roof. A couple of quick steps and I look down the side to see Clarence and the others still fighting out.

Dave runs to the side, ‘INCOMING,’ he yells and leaps from the roof, landing deep within the ranks of undead.

Fuck that. I’d break and ankle if I tried it. ‘Move over,’ I shout down. They glance up and budge so I can slide down the side.

I land heavily amongst them, almost tripping on a dead body.

‘You’re still alive then?’ Clarence yells, his voice as hoarse as mine.

‘Only just.’

‘FIGHT YOU DUMB-ASS MOTHERFUCKERS…KILL THEM SONS OF BITCHES.’

‘Who is that?’ Blowers yells.

‘Dunno…but I can guess,’ I yell back. The American shouting again spurs them on. They attack and press in but we stand out ground and fight. Swinging axes and cleaving them apart one by one.

‘FIGHT YOU FUCKERS,’ The American screams, closer now. They press in even harder. Driving us back against the side of the vehicle.

‘FIGHT,’ he bellows again, ‘GET YOUR FUCKING BACKS INTO IT.’

‘Dear god,’ Cookey yelps as we struggle to fend them off, ‘I wish he’d stop that.’

‘Lillian and Joe?’ Lani asks between ragged breaths.

‘Gone,’ I spit the words out with hardly enough breath to speak.

‘HOWIE...WHICH ONE OF YOU MOTHERFUCKERS IS HOWIE?’ The American voice booms out.

I don’t have the energy, the breath or the time to say anything.

‘COS I’M GONNA FUCK YOU UP…’ The voice is close now, very close.

‘QUIT,’ he roars. The undead suddenly back away. An instant reaction that causes me to almost topple with the weight of the axe after I sent an almighty swing at an undead who stepped back. They stagger back, the hatred and hunger still evident in their eyes.  He emerges from the dense horde as they slowly stagger back. Well over six foot in height, broad and extremely muscular with the biggest arms I’ve ever seen, bulging with thick veins protruding from the skin.

More of his kind are standing near him, gathered round like a pack of hyena’s circling the alpha male. All of them look tough and hard. Big men with scars, bruises, cuts, bloodied knuckles and dark intense looks. Tattoo’s show underneath the blood and grime. A whole variance of racial backgrounds, black, white, Asian, Indian…and all of them looking extremely capable. They must be the ones that took the fort. I would have seen them in there as they stand out by a mile.

Instant silence settles over the horde. We stand with our backs to the Saxon, chests heaving, gripping weapons that are slick with blood, hands and arms coated in gore and dripping onto the already blood sodden ground.

For the first time since this fight began I take a proper look at the undead and start to see faces I recognise. Men and women from the fort. People I had spoken to and passed the time of day with.

The big American looks over us, his evil red eyes taking each of us in. He finally rests on me and slowly his mouth splits into a broad grin. He doesn't say a word but turns and nods. The undead behind him step away as some figures make their way forward. Stepping out of the line to stand behind the American and stare at him.

Sergeant Hopewell, Terri and Sarah all stand there looking at him. Staring with devotion. My stomach drops from the sight and I hear low groans coming from the lads.

‘I’ll do it,’ Dave says flatly, he takes a step forward and stands ready.

‘Who the fuck are you little man?’ The American sneers.

‘Dave.’

‘So you’re Dave,’ he grins, ‘you a little fucker…like a fucking midget…which one of you is Clarence…I guess that’d be you,’ he stares at Clarence who just stares back.

‘How you like my bitches?’ He motions his head to the three women stood behind him, ‘I already fucked ‘em…fucked ‘em good too…so did all my boys.’

‘You fucking cunt,’ I take a step forward.

‘NO,’ Dave cuts me off.

‘You gonna kill your sister tough guy?’ He looks at me, taunting, goading, ‘you gonna take your axe and cut your own sister down? That’s fucked up…motherfucker that’s some cold shit right there…’ He nods to his men, grinning all the time, ‘this…I gotta see.’

The three women snap their heads round to look at me, staring with baleful expressions. Then they charge. My own sister, the only family I have left in the world charges at me, ready and willing to bite into my flesh and turn me. Terri and Debbie both burst with her. My heart misses a beat. I hear the lads scream out. Clarence bellowing from the side.

Dave moves in front of them. His left arm already spinning as he gently swipes the blade across Terri’s throat, cutting her jugular open. By the time the skin peels back and the blood starts to cascade out he has turned and thrust the knife in his right hand deep into Debbie’s neck, twisting it first left and the right before yanking it free. He steps back as both bodies, still moving forward from their own momentum, tumble to the floor. Sarah powers on, relentless in her quest to get me.

Dave spins to stand behind her; he raises both knives out to the side and drives the points towards her neck. I clench my eyes shut and scream, others scream near me. I hear someone gasp in shock and then feel an impact at my feet.

As I open my eyes I look down to see Sarah lying at my feet, her neck savaged by the two knife blades, blood pumping out from both arteries . Dave has already turned to face back at the crowd. One foot forward, the other one back. One arm forward holding the knife across his chest, the other behind his back. Poised. Ready. Unflinching. Ruthless.

The whole thing was done within a second or two. Clarence stands looking in shock down at the woman at my feet. My sister. His love.

Seven pairs of eyes settle on the big American stood there with a look of puzzlement on his face.

‘HAVE IT,’ I roar with everything I have, with every ounce of my being. We burst out. The seven of us taking the fight to them and every one of us aiming for that big fucker.

Frenetic action explodes as they react with lightning speed. Undead surging forward to meet our charge. Dave slips and spins through them but the undead charge at him with unrestrained savagery. Clarence hacks and slices in desperation to get at him. All of us find opponent after opponent blocking our path. The American laughs, a deep sound that is eerily similar to the way Clarence laughs but that just sends out big man berserk. He becomes wild with fury. Pure rage etched onto his red flushed face. He screams and roars as he swings the axe out.

The American moves towards Clarence, grabbing his own undead and launching them aside. He roars and swats them away. Both of them fighting a path to each other. When the route becomes clear they stand with eyes locked. Clarence drops the axe as the American tenses his arms, clenching his fists to push the veins out even more. The two biggest men I have ever seen staring each other down. Goliaths of almost mythical size. The same height and width. The American is defined and ripped with clear muscles that bulge. Clarence is just a solid slab of pure unbridled rage.

‘Randall,’ an undead shouts and throws a knife out, the American catches it by the handle. Clarence reaches round to put his hand behind his back.

‘You got a knife there you motherfucker?’ Randall growls.

‘No,’ Clarence shakes his head, ‘I got a fucking gun.’ He starts firing, aiming the shots into the centre mass as he strides forward. The American takes the hits and charges. Clarence ditches the pistol at the last second and side steps, slamming a huge fist into the side of his head.

Randall roars out but keeps his feet. He spins and lashes a straight punch at Clarence. It connects and drives him back. Clarence takes the punch and pauses as the American comes in swinging. Clarence blocks the blows and goes in close, slamming his forehead into Randall’s nose. He follows it up with a left hook, then a right, then more blows, one hand after the other and each one more powerful than the last. Randall reels back, unable to focus or do anything from the reign of blows being smashed into him.

‘CLARENCE…YOUR HANDS…’ Dave roars. Clarence pauses mid swing and looks at the bleeding face of Randall and then at his clenched fists. The pause is enough for Randall to charge with the knife stretched out.

Dave lunges in and brings his own knife down in a mighty swing, cutting through Randall’s outstretched arm. Severing the hand from the wrist. Clarence staggers away from the blood pumping furiously out of the stump. Randall howls and stares at his ruined arm as Meredith launches up to grip his other arm between her teeth. She heaves backwards, shaking her massive head as her teeth ravage through his flesh. The American stays on his feet, jerking left and right to free his arm from the dog. I take a step back, creating just enough space to draw my pistol. I start firing into Randall’s back. The others do the same, drawing their handguns and firing into him.

He stays on his feet, getting jolted and slammed by the bullets. God knows how he does it but he does. Staggering and howling as the rounds whip through his body. Pistols click empty and he still stays up, roaring with desperation as he kicks out at the dog. She side steps and pulls him towards her, refusing to let go. The lads dart in with axes, hacking at his legs and body. Lani slicing her meat cleaver deep into thigh. I run in drawing my axe back and swinging it round with all my strength, driving the blade deep into his back. Still he roars defiantly as Meredith tugs and shakes her head. Clarence swoops for his axe, bringing it up and out in one fluid movement. He swings it out with a ferocious yell and powers the blade into Randall’s neck. It goes through with ease, taking the head off in one brutal swipe.

As the head falls, the body stays upright for a second then topples and slumps to the ground. Meredith finally releases the arm and goes for the now detached head. Sinking her teeth into the face as she lifts it easily from the ground.  The undead scream and charge in and suddenly we’re back pressed against the side of the Saxon and slashing out. I’d hoped that the loss of their leader would take the fight out of them. The opposite happens. They charge in with everything they’ve got, the whole of them pressing against us and we have nowhere to go.

A dull roar fills the air. A different sound that comes from a distance. It grows louder as we slash and hack.

The roar gets closer, a thundering noise that vibrates through the ground. Then an almighty screech and something impacts the undead from the far side. The power of the impact drives them off to the side. The whole crowd getting pushed away. Confusion erupts and we take full advantage of it. As they go past we lash out. They rally and fight back. The roaring screech comes again and I feel the crowd ripple as pressure is applied from the outer edges.

A glimpse through their ranks and I see the lines at the back are facing out, fighting at something else. We get swept along, physically moved by the pressure. The fighting becomes close and brutal with short hacking lunges. I scream out and start wrenching my axe from left to right, powering it back and forth. Slowly, body by body I gain space and find I’m alone. Swept into their midst by the pressure of the wave of whatever hit them.

Separated we fight alone. The screech comes on again, louder and determined. The undead push into me but are facing the other way. I slash back and forth, cutting them down and striking into their backs.

More undead pour through the ranks at me, facing me as they charge and shove their way through. I can’t understand what’s going on. Most are facing out but then others are charging in. Something grabs me from behind and pulls me down. The undead charging through launch into my body and drive me to the floor. Hands grab at me, I lose the axe and start punching, kicking, slamming my forehead into them. They smother me and I scream in pure desperation as I wait for the bites to start. I can’t move. I can hardly breathe from the pressure of the bodies on me. The sound of the battle becomes dull and far away. I try to scream but the weight on my chest prevents me from drawing air.

I clench my eyes and wait, knowing this is it and giving thanks that at least we took that nasty fucker down. I pray to the lord to let my team go without pain. I pray to take them into heaven. I pray for Sarah’s soul.

I start to suffocate, unable to draw breath. They could be biting me all over my body and I wouldn’t know. My senses are dulling as my body starts to shut down from the lack of oxygen. Blackness creeping in. I fight back, pushing it away but it just comes on stronger.

Movement. Voices. Something moves on me, my arm comes free and I try to punch out but I there’s nothing left to fight with. The pressure on my chest shifts and I draw a gulp of air, then another. My head becomes dizzy from the oxygen flooding into my system. My vision blurs but I feel strength returning. I will energy into my free arm and start punching at the thing on top of me. Driving my fist again and again into the warm body. It shifts again and I buck, thrusting my hips up and twisting to the side.

‘MOVE,’ a female voice shouts, it must be Lani. ‘GET OFF HIM,’ she shouts again and the pressure on my body is gone. I scrabble backwards, trying to get to my feet but my head feels woozy. I fall back down and feel hands grabbing to me up. An undead face swims in front of my eyes. I punch it hard on the side of the head, it lets go and I stagger round. More undead in front of me so I punch out at them and reach for my pistol, but it’s gone, dropped somewhere.

‘HOWIE STOP,’ she yells but I can’t see her, just undead everywhere. I keep attacking them, fighting to break free of the tight circle they’ve formed round me.

Arms grab me from behind, I wrestle to break free but she whispers close to my ear, ‘stop…it’s over…it’s done…’ her breath is on my ear, ‘Howie stop…it’s over…’ she holds me closer, wrapping her arms round my chest. I reel at the words but feel myself sinking into her embrace. My legs give out, she goes to the floor with me, still holding me from behind. ‘It’s over Howie…it’s over.’

Tears sting my eyes and pour down my face. My hands reach up and grab at the arms holding me. I hold them tight while I gasp for air, ‘breathe Howie…just breathe…you’re safe now.’

The words slide into my mind, comforting, soft as the air she exhales. The warmth of her body makes me sink into her. My vision clears enough for me to see the undead stood round watching. I struggle to break free, ready to fight them off and protect Lani.

She grips me harder and holds me down, ‘it’s okay…they aren’t going to hurt you…Howie…it’s over…’

She says it so it must be true. She wouldn’t lie to me but why aren’t they attacking me. I’m turned. I must be turned. I’m one of them but I’m still me and I hurt everywhere. Something has gone wrong, I’m turned but not fully. I have to kill myself, end it before I turn fully.

‘Kill me…don’t let me turn…’

‘You’re alive Howie…your alive and safe…you haven’t been bitten.’

‘I…I don’t…’ She holds me closer and I feel her lips against my ear, soft and warm. I reach a hand up and feel her head and the long, soft hair that hangs down. I caress the back of her neck, feeling the warmth and security she gives me. The contact of a woman. The soothing touch and caress that only a woman can offer.

My other hand rubs along her arms, finding her hand. She splays her fingers and lets mine entwine so we’re together. Connected. Minutes go by as my heart rate slows and my senses start to return.

I look down at her slender arms, at the tanned skin. I feel the pressure in my back of her breasts pushing against me. Breasts of a full figured woman, not of a lithe slim woman.

‘Marcy,’ I whisper.

‘Yes,’ she whispers into my ear. I look up at the undead gathered round us and I realise. These are her undead. Her horde.

She saved us. It was her horde that attacked and drove the others back. That’s why they’re not attacking me now.

‘Now do you believe me?’ She whispers. I nod but don’t say anything. Her fingers squeeze mine and she kisses my ear. A soft fleeting sensation that is gone as quick as it was there.

‘Get up,’ she helps me to my feet and let’s go. Our hands slip apart and I step away to turn slowly and look at her. She stares back and holds her head up high.

‘GET THESE FUCKING THINGS OFF ME,’ Clarence’s muffled voice booms out. I spin round but see I’m stuck in the middle of a small circle.

They break away, melting back to let me slip through. I see a huge mound of bodies, all of them heavy built men and women with Clarence’s feet poking out the end, wriggling as he yells.

Marcy nods at them and they start to climb off. He thrashes and bucks the same as I did as the pressure leaves and then throws the last body off his stomach.

He sits up and looks first at me then at Marcy. He makes the connection far quicker than I did.

‘Oh,’ he says simply… ‘right…they saved us then.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Where are the others?’

‘I don’t know.’ The undead peel away, leaving a distinct view of undead bodies piled in heaps, each one of them pressing the lads down. Only Dave stands upright, still holding his knives and staring suspiciously at the massive pile of undead bodies surrounding him.

‘Mr Howie,’ he nods at seeing me, not a flicker of surprise on his face.

‘They didn’t get you down then?’

‘No,’ he shakes his head, ‘they tried.’

‘Leave them,’ Marcy calls out. I turn to see the piles of bodies disentangling themselves. Slowly sliding off to reveal the blood stained cargo trouser clad legs of the lads. Nick and Blowers are the first to be released, they both sit up and stare around. Seeing Clarence, Dave and me stood with Marcy.

‘What the fuck?’ Blowers asks, shaking his head.

‘She saved us,’ Clarence says.

‘Eh? Your zombies killed the other zombies?’ Nicks asks, ‘that’s fucked up…’

‘Where’s Cookey,’ Blowers looks round with alarm on his face.

‘I’m here,’ a muffled voice calls out, ‘and I’m staying here.’

‘Cookey, get up,’ I call out.

‘No Mr Howie, there is a big pair of boobs pressing into my face…I’m in heaven…just leave me here.’

‘Get off him,’ Marcy calls.

‘No don’t get off him…’ Cookey yells from under the bodies, ‘I heard what you said…these zombies fucked up the other zombies so we won…so let me stay here.’

‘April,’ Marcy calls out.

‘I’m here,’ she replies from the tangle of bodies.

‘Is it April with her boobs in his face?’ Nick asks. ‘you jammy bastard Cookey, I had some blokes arse in mine.’

‘Blowers will get jealous…is it really April on top of me?’

‘Yes,’ April replies.

‘Fuck! This is the best day ever…please please let me stay here…I’ll make the brews for a month…’

‘Cookey I fucking hate you,’ Nick shouts with a shake of his head, ‘is she like wearing a top?’

‘Yeah but the boobs are coming out a bit, like the actual boob is touching me…no nipple yet though…is Marcy there?’

‘Yeah right here,’ Blowers replies as he massages his neck.

‘Marcy?’ Cookey calls. She looks somewhat startled at being addressed directly, and from someone buried under a mound of bodies.

‘Yes?’ She replies.

‘Would I catch zombie if I licked her boob?’

‘Get him out!’ I yelp while darting forward. Clarence and the lads rush towards the pile as Marcy yells for them to get off him.

‘No…No piss off…I won’t actually lick it…I was just asking…piss off and leave me here…oh for fuck’s sake,’ he groans as we push and shove the bodies away who do their best to untangle themselves from him.

‘Can I help you up?’ Nick smiles as he extends a hand to help April to her feet. She smiles as Blowers rushes in to help too, taking hold of her other arm.

‘I was bloody enjoying that,’ Cookey grumbles as he sits up with a flushed and glistening face the gives an enormous and unashamed grin, ‘I’m in love,’ he flops back down with a groan.

‘Are you okay?’ Blowers asks with concern.

‘Fine mate,’ Cookey sighs.

‘I wasn’t asking you fuckwit…’

Cookey glances up sharply to see him staring at April with Nick on the other side still holding her hand. ‘Oi,’ he yelps scrambling to her feet, ‘get your filthy paws off her.’

I cast round at the bodies, just a sea of undead stacked deep all around us. Body parts, heads, limbs and gore everywhere. The axes lying amongst the bodies. Pistols left dropped on the ground. The side of the Saxon is coated in a thick gunky layer of blood and filth.

More undead stand back in a wide circle around us. I half wish I could have seen them fighting each other. Undead against undead. How did she do it? How could they tell each other apart?

My head still feels weird with a throbbing pain building in my temples. I feel weak and drained, like I’m drunk. Bodies are everywhere. Detached heads staring with open eyes to the sky. Tongues poking out. I glance across at Marcy then at Blowers and Nick stood next to April. This is fucked up, completely fucked up.

‘Where’s Lani?’ My senses flood back for a second as I realise she’s not with us. ‘Lani?’ I shout. The lads break from April and cast about looking for her.

‘Lani?’ I call again. We start running to the side of the Saxon where the bodies are lying thick on the ground. Our bloodied hands grasp the corpses, pulling them aside, pushing them over. Clarence simply throws them away.

My hands slip into cleaved skulls, grey matter sticks to my fingers. The lads get more bloodied as they search through the cadavers.

‘Lani?’ We all shout, calling her name.

‘Didn’t your lot get her?’ Clarence shouts to Marcy.

‘I don’t think so,’ she replies.

‘Don’t think so? How can you not know?’ I yell with frustration.

‘It doesn't work like that, I told you…I can’t see her either.’

‘HERE!’ Cookey shouts, he pushes his hands down into a pile of corpses and starts wrenching them away. The goofy clown gone as he works with serious intent. We scrabble towards him, slipping and tripping on the bodies.

‘Lani,’ Cookey shouts, ‘hey Lani,’ he pulls a body up with a heave and dumps it to the side before dropping down and reaching into the pile.

Clarence gets there next, kneeling on the corpses to help pull her lifeless body out. We all dive in, knees and feet sinking into the fetid corpses. Many hands grasp and lift her clear of the mess, carrying her as gently as we can. Each of us giving small instructions and telling the others to be careful.

‘Wound in the stomach,’ Dave says dully.

‘See it,’ Clarence replies. He carefully pulls the blood soaked material of her top away from her body. He takes the knife handed to him by Dave and cuts the material to reveal a deep wound in her abdomen.

‘The cleaver,’ Dave remarks on peering down, ‘straight cut made with a sharp blade, bigger than a knife…’

‘Her hand must have been trapped when the crush started,’ Clarence shakes his head, ‘big blade like that and all that pressure.’

I press my fingers into her neck and pause, ‘she’s got a pulse…very faint but it’s there.’

‘Check her eyes,’ Dave says. I gently pull one eyelid back, her eyes are normal and white.

‘The infected blood could have got into the wound,’ Dave adds.

‘She hasn’t turned though,’ I say hopefully.

‘Mr Howie,’ Dave says and from his tone I can tell what he’s about to say, ‘too much blood loss Mr Howie…she won’t make it.’

‘She might,’ I croak back at him.

‘No,’ he replies, ‘not from a wound like that…I’m sorry.’

I brush the blood and sweat soaked hair away from her face, she looks like she’s asleep. Just resting, taking a nap before she gets up and makes coffee. I feel numb. Too numb to cry. Too numb to feel anything. Sarah, now Lani. My mind can’t take it and simply refuses to acknowledge what’s happening.

Her hand lies across her chest. The same hand I held while we slept. Numb. Blackness. Nothing.

‘Go,’ Dave says softly after a minute of silence.

‘She’s still alive,’ Nick whispers.

‘Nick, she’s lost too much blood…the wound, it’s too deep mate, she’d need a blood transfusion, surgery and anaesthetic to survive…’ Clarence’s deep voice explains slowly.

‘We can try,’ Marcy says from somewhere behind me.

‘You’re not turning her,’ I snap.

‘She might pull through, she won’t be in pain and she won’t suffer…’

‘Will she be like you?’ Cookey asks with wide eyes.

‘Like me? You mean her character and intelligence?’ She shakes her head, ‘I don’t know…I can try but…’

‘Try how?’ Blowers asks.

‘It’s…I don’t know…very few of us can talk and think but…’

‘But what?’ I prompt her, the faint glimmer of hope shining through the darkness.

Her eyes fix on mine with a searching look, those red eyes staring deep into my soul. ‘I can try,’ she says finally, breaking the eye contact.

‘Try how?’ My voice comes out with a hard edge.

‘I can will her to be as she…as she was, but she won’t be exactly the same Howie…’

‘But if she speaks and thinks she will be,’ Cookey says.

‘She’ll be devoted to Marcy, not Mr Howie,’ Reginald cuts in, ‘she will feel utterly devoted like we all do, she may retain full intelligence but she will not feel any loyalty to you.’

‘Eh? But you just risked your life to save us?’ Nick asks with a confused look, ‘if you’re only devoted to yourselves then why do that?’

‘I’m not them,’ Marcy replies softly, ‘I am the alpha…that seems to be how it works…you keep what you turn.’

‘Smithy didn’t turn all those cunts,’ Blowers spits, ‘he had fucking thousands of ‘em.’

Marcy shrugs, ‘it changes, evolves…like it’s constantly trying new things…’

‘What would Lani want?’ Cookey asks staring down at her, ‘if she had the choice…what would she do?’

‘She’d say no,’ I sigh, ‘we all wouldn’t we?’ The question hangs in the air. We look at each other, realising that maybe the decision wouldn’t be that clear cut.

‘We’ve still got Meredith…haven’t we?’ I glance round, looking for the dog.

‘The dog is shut in the cab of the tanker; she was killing my people too well.’

‘Boss?’ Clarence looks at me. They all look at me. Waiting for me to decide the fate of yet another life.

‘Dave?’

‘Yes Mr Howie?’

‘What would you do if it was me? If there was a chance I would come back the same as I was.’

‘Marcy said you wouldn’t be the same. Lani wouldn’t be the same.’

‘So what would you do? In this exact situation right now, me lying there…’

‘I’d…’ he hesitates, seemingly lost for words, thinking hard, ‘I’d…’

‘He’d bring you back,’ Clarence cuts in, ‘then kill you if you weren’t the same.’ He’s right. Dave’s devotion to me is the same as they are to Marcy. But if I wasn’t exactly the same he’d kill me.

‘But then we’d all do the same if it was you,’ he adds.

‘Then the decision is made,’ I reply, I look at Marcy, ‘do it.’

She stares back at me like she wants to say something, a searching look that’s made all the harder to read with her red eyes. Instead she comes forward, brushing past me. The scent of her fills my nose. The closeness of her makes me tingle inside. Something electrifying and dangerous. The girl I thought I loved is laying on the blood soaked ground surrounded by bodies, my sister has just been killed but all I can think about is Marcy.

She drops down and leans over the wound on Lani’s stomach. With one hand holding her hair out of the way she gets in close. I don’t see what she does as her head blocks my view, but she lifts up less than a minute later, ‘done,’ she says and gets to her feet.

She walks back past me, her eyes holding on mine as she goes, her fingers brush against mine, a fleeting touch that makes my heart race but I glare hard at her and turn away.

We watch in silence, staring at Lani closely. Seconds go by, then a full minute. Nothing happens. Clarence presses his fingers into Lani’s neck and concentrates, jerking back when the first jolt passes through her. We’ve all seen it before but it’s still mesmerising. Lani convulses and twitches, her body spasms, limbs flick out then she settles. We all stare at her eyes, waiting for it. When they open I feel a sudden sense of regret at what we’ve just done. Like it’s unholy or dirty. The red eyes stare out unfocussed. She blinks and sits up. Turning her head to look straight at Marcy.

‘Lani?’ Cookey speaks first, desperate to know if she’s the same. Lani keeps her gaze fixed on Marcy, ignoring the lad.

‘Lani,’ Clarence’s deep voice this time, her name spoken firmly. Still no response. Lani has the look of the massed undead. Expressionless and empty.

‘I’m sorry,’ Marcy says softly, ‘it doesn't work every time.’ I look round to see Reginald staring at Marcy with a puzzled expression. He sees me watching and quickly looks away. I spin round and see Marcy moving away.

‘Where are you going?’ I call after her.

‘We need to clear this mess up,’ she replies coldly.

‘That’s it? You just walk off and start cleaning up?’

‘What?’ She turns to stare at me with a cold expression. She takes a breath and softens her tone ‘it’s done, you got the fort back, you need to wash and rest, we can take care of this.’

‘But…’ I go after her.

‘You need to rest and those clothes will have infected blood on them,’ she adds turning away.

Lani moves off, not glancing at any one of us. She walks straight past me like I don’t exist. Following behind Marcy. I reach out and grab her arm, pulling her round to face me.

‘Lani…it’s me…’ She stares back at me and just stands there, not a flicker of recognition passes through her eyes. Nothing. I let her arm go and she walks off.

‘Your vehicle is infected,’ Marcy calls out from the back of the Saxon, ‘walk back to the fort, we’ll get it cleaned and bring it to you…’ she speaks softly and goes still, the undead all around us start moving in, they grab at the bodies and start pulling them onto the grass of the flatlands.

Dave walks to the back of the Saxon and climbs in. Blowers goes with him, taking the assault rifles and kit bags before handing them round. We check magazines and make ready before moving out to pick our fallen axes up.

‘We’ll bring everything to you,’ Marcy says watching us, almost a command.

The lads look to me, waiting to see what I do. I take my axe and start walking, the assault rifle and kit bag strapped to my back. They grab theirs and fall in next to me.

Within a few minutes we’re away from the death and walking on clean ground, staring at the empty fort ahead of us. The death and destruction at our backs. None of us speak. Nothing to be said.

A loud bark stops us in our tracks. We turn to see an undead staggering back from the door of the tanker cab as Meredith bursts out. She savages the thing, ripping its throat out before dumping the body and looking round.

Dave whistles. Her head snaps round and she starts running. Ears flat against her head, low and sleek. She bounds up to us, tail wagging as she snakes through and round our legs.

We carry on walking with Meredith running ahead to sniff the ground. After a few minutes Nick speaks up, breaking the silence, ‘Mr Howie, we shouldn’t take anyone else into our team.’

‘Okay,’ I reply quickly. The others nod. The six of us have survived everything that’s been thrown at us and even now we walk away again with hardly a mark on us. The dog, cut and bitten, still bounds on full of energy. She’s survived too.

She’s one of us.

Forty-Two

‘How do you feel?’

‘I feel fine.’

‘Any pain?’

‘No.’

‘Do not do anything until the wound has healed.’

‘I understand.’

‘And remember what I said.’

‘I will.’

‘What did I say?’

‘You said I am not to speak to anyone other than you and only when we are alone.’

‘Good, do you have a problem with that?’ Marcy stares into her eyes.

‘No,’ Lani replies, staring back.

‘Do you feel any connection to Howie? Any feelings at all?’

‘No Marcy.’

‘You can say if you do, be honest and tell me the truth,’ Marcy wills her to be truthful, directing the conscious thought at Lani.

‘I don’t,’ Lani replies quickly.

‘Good,’ Marcy repeats with a satisfied nod, ‘stay close to Reggie.’

He sighs deeply and rolls his eyes, ‘It’s Reginald,’ he says again, ‘and why can’t she talk to me?’

‘Because I do not want them knowing she can speak.’

‘Why ever not?’ Reginald asks pushing his glasses up his nose, ‘surely it will make no difference to them.’

‘They’ve been through enough, knowing Lani can speak will only upset them further.’

‘You mean Mr Howie.’

She pauses, mouth opening to speak, to deny the innocently asked question, ‘yes,’ she admits, ‘and also the rest of them.’

‘Why did you kiss Mr Howie?’ Reginald asks still with the same innocently probing tone. Marcy glances sharply at Lani, searching for any reaction. None shows so she shrugs and looks back to Reginald.

‘Comfort,’ she offers after another pause.

‘Comfort?’ Reginald nods, ‘and may I ask why you brushed your hand against his when you walked past him?’

‘You don’t miss a trick do you Reggie.’

‘Forgive me Marcy,’ Reginald says in response to the edge in her voice, ‘I did not mean…’

‘No you’re right,’ Marcy cuts him off, ‘I told you to speak freely and you are, I…I don’t know why I did that…he has something, I don’t know…’ She looks about, trying to give words to her thoughts but failing, not a conscious act, not a planned intentional thing. A feeling, a deep feeling that makes her tingle and feel weird.

‘I see,’ Reginald says slowly, ‘giving consideration to your allowance of me to speak freely, then I must vehemently advise against any course of similar conduct. No good can come of such…well of such a liaison…indeed in my capacity as observer and taking into account my extremely limited, well rather non-existent experience of matters of a romantic inclination, I observed the manner in which he looked at you, which gives me great concern for any suggestion that he reciprocates…’

‘What?’ Marcy shakes her head, ‘I got about half of that…did you say he was looking at me?’ She demands.

‘Oh dear me,’ Reginald shakes his head, ‘Marcy you not a thirteen year old girl with a crush, you have great responsibility…’

‘When was he looking at me?’

‘Marcy, I never said he was looking at you in terms of a permanent fixation of his eyes, merely that yes he did look at you and that there appeared to be a somewhat perplexing look about him when he did so, be that as it may I do not know Mr Howie so I am unable to ascertain if that is his normal countenance, and I rather regret mentioning it now.’

‘Reggie…’

‘And as for those testosterone fuelled boys of his gooning over young April,’ Reginald carries on with a stern look at April, ‘I think that is something that should be strongly discouraged.’

‘They are just lads,’ April replies, ‘they mean no harm.’ Marcy and Reginald both stare hard at the young woman.

‘April, it would appear that you are developing an individual character, are you aware of this?’ Reginald asks.

‘I am not aware of it,’ April replies.

‘Did you hear that?’ Reginald turns to Marcy.

‘I did, she gave a longer answer than just saying no,’ Marcy considers the implication and switches her gaze to Lani. If April develops and evolves then what is to stop Lani doing the same, or any of the others?

‘Have I displeased you?’ April asks.

‘No April, I encourage you to think freely, now please….we have much to do.’

Forty-Three

‘Switch on and keep your eyes open,’ Dave instructs as we get to the big outer double gates forced open when the fort occupants stormed out. We pause and move left and right to gain a view down the sides.

Entering through I see one of the medical tents has been trampled down from the mass exodus. The others, set further back, appear fine. We hold in the middle while Dave checks one side and Clarence the other. Both return reporting all appears the same as before.

We already have a view of the interior, just the first few metres beyond the internal gates. We pass through, Meredith running ahead and being watched closely by all of us in case she shows any reaction.

She doesn't but just runs back and forth sniffing the ground. Silence greets us. An absolute silence of an empty and lifeless place. Not a soul inside. No noise, not even the rattle or sway of tents as the air is as listless as we feel. Just hot and stagnant without the slightest of a breeze.

We venture deeper in, staring round with our rifles raised and ready. A small circle of us moving quietly, each of us sweeping our eyes over what was a teeming city full of life just a few hours ago. Now empty and void.

The tent city looks demolished, so many of them trampled and pulled over during the explosion of violence. Blood and gore everywhere.

We pass by the remains of Chris. His form recognisable from the thick black beard and the knife stuck in his throat still gripped by his hand. Clarence stares hard, as though seeking solace from the evident fact that Chris took himself rather than got turned. Another big man with a long grey biker beard lies nearby. His bloodshot dead eyes staring up at the sky.

‘Look at that,’ Clarence smiles and nods towards the slope. We all turn round to see a trail of bodies running from the base of the slope to just inside the gates. Then a great many more surrounding Chris. ‘The tough fucker took a few with him,’ Clarence says softly.

‘He did loads,’ I add, ‘and that big bastard too by the looks of it.’

‘I bet it was him that gave that big yank our names, probably at the same time he told him to fuck off, poor bastard…’ He shakes his huge head sadly and sighs. ‘Good on ya Chris, you went out fighting.’

He kneels down and feels for Chris’s neck, pulling a thick metal chain out with two old style dog tags on the end, ‘he always insisted on wearing these old things, like he was Vietnam Vet or something,’ Clarence yanks the chain and stands back, putting them into his pocket before turning round and nodding at me.

‘You alright?’ I ask him.

‘Not really,’ he shrugs, ‘but what can we do? Fuck all…Best get on with it.’

‘I liked Chris,’ Dave adds with surprise, ‘he was a very good soldier, professional and competent.’ Bloody hell. That’s about the best compliment you’d ever got from Dave. I smile imagining Chris stood watching us with a huge grin, his white teeth showing through his beard and calling us all soppy fuckers.

We move on, sticking to the right side and moving down the fort. Checking rooms and seeing more signs of the violence everywhere. The police offices are a mess, the door kicked in and stuff strewn everywhere. Big pools of blood cover the floor.

The stores look normal and untouched. The armoury the same. We move down to our rooms and find them also untouched. We don’t linger but press on, moving down the wall to check the outer sides and the many rooms and recesses.

Trepidation steals over me as we enter the hospital section. We view the empty beds all in a row and work our way through to the rooms where the hospital equipment was left. All of it still covered in plastic sheets and, as with everything else, untouched.

We file back outside, no talking amongst us. Just a heavy weight pressing down on our shoulders. Feet feeling heavy and tired. Legs moving slowly. Arms like lead.

‘Here,’ Dave holds a case of water bottles in his hand, brought out from the hospital. He drops it down and rips the plastic outer casing back before throwing the bottles up at us.

Nick walks slowly to the side wall and pulls the end of a hose free. He twists the tap and drags it back. Kneeling on the ground he holds the end up, the water trickling out softly to pool on the sun-baked earth.

Meredith goes straight to him and starts licking at the water. ‘Hang on,’ Cookey mutters. He walks back into the hospital and comes back out carrying a stainless steel bed pan.

Nick adjusts the flow of water, filling the pan. Cookey puts it down and we stand back watching Meredith drink as quickly as possible. Her tongue darting in and out as she takes the cool liquid in.

The seven of us drink water in silence. Seven parched and dried mouths gulping the life giving liquid into our systems. Seven minds thinking only of the water and the thirst we had. Seven throats that suddenly feel less sore. Meredith drinks and drinks, her feet planted apart. The end of the hose pouring water into the bowl, re-filling it as she goes.

We cast bottles aside and grab more. Nick takes out a pack of smokes and hands them round. We light them up, coughing from the first pull. Still nothing is said. Nothing needs to be said.

None of us want to move into the tents and clear them. The area is big and it’s hot. Hotter than anything I’ve ever known and we’re exhausted. Completely drained both physically and mentally. Just numb. Filled with a dark emptiness of thoughts. How did we survive again? How are we still walking untouched?

Nick pulls the hose out from the bed pan and directs the steady flow onto Meredith’s back. She doesn't flinch but carries on drinking. The water runs pink from her coat, red bloodied water dripping down.

‘Turn it up,’ he asks Cookey. The lad nods and walks over to the tap, gently turning the tap until Nick nods. With a firmer spray he moves the hose up and down her body, sluicing the blood and gore from her.

She licks the bowl dry and looks up at him. A clear request for more water. He fills the bowl to the top and carries on. She simply drops her head and goes back to drinking.

I step in and look at her sides, just a few bite marks that have already stopped bleeding. The other wounds look okay and I realise her dressing has come off, revealing the shaved areas of her coat where the wounds must have been inspected by Amy and Doctor Roberts.

‘Did anyone see Doc Roberts?’ I ask as I think of him.

‘Yes,’ Dave replies. I nod, knowing what he means by the simple answer. Meredith then decides that we all need a wash too and shakes her coat, a sudden violent action that soaks us quicker than we get jump away.

Nick just stand there with his eyes closed, getting the full brunt of the water. The cigarette hanging from his mouth gets drenched, goes out and starts to bend in the middle, going limp.

Cookey chuckles at the sight and wipes the dog water from his face. Blowers smiles as he ditches his smoke and goes for another one. Even Clarence gives a small smile, but with two very sad eyes staring out.

‘Come on, we’ll get it done,’ I sigh and pick my rifle up and wait for Cookey to turn the tap off. Then we head into the tents, smoking while holding our rifles one handed. Even Dave doesn't moan this time but just plods on in his stoic manner.

We walk in silence again, using our feet to shove downed tents aside. Checking inside ones that are still upright. The odd body here and there but nothing worse than we’ve seen many times already.

It takes ages, gradually moving deeper and deeper. Checking every place an undead could be hiding or secreted. I don’t think for one second one would be hiding but it needs to be done, so we do it.

Finally we end up in front of the visitors centre and wait while Dave goes in to check, him telling us to relax and wait. None of us argue but let him carry on, knowing full well it would take an army of undead with tanks to get him. Even Marcy’s lot couldn’t get him down.

He strolls out with a curt nod, ‘clear.’

‘Done then,’ I reply and turn to stare back across the fort.

‘What now?’ Cookey asks.

‘Get cleaned up, weapons and kit and sleep…’

‘I’m starving,’ Nick adds.

‘And some food then…after that? I haven’t got a fucking clue.’

‘Ah, you always know what to do Mr Howie,’ Cookey gives me a sudden grin, his confidence in me is touching.

We head over to our rooms, none of us knowing what else we should be doing. It does cross my mind to lock the gates and keep the things outside but Marcy has clearly proven her intent to us and besides, with just six of us, and a dog, we couldn’t hope to hold it against them for very long.

Cookey brews up while we start sorting out bags out and cleaning our weapons. Most of us dropped our pistols after we shot that big chap, but at least we’ve still got the rifles and axes.

Kit and weapons done we head outside with our coffees and take it in turns to use the hose, peeling our filthy clothes off to be scrubbed. Down to our underwear we wash and clean our clothes, stopping to sip coffee and smoke cigarettes. The conversation remains stilted and slow, all of us just too bloody exhausted to think of what to say.

We leave our clothes outside in the sun to dry, after getting Clarence to wring them out, his strong hands squeezing every last drop of moisture from them.

Teeth brushed. Skin scrubbed. Hair washed and still I feel grimy and filthy. The sweat already starting to drip down my face. The lads go inside, heading to their rooms for sleep. Too drained to think of food or anything else.

I head into my room and look down at the two mattresses on the floor. Still I don’t feel anything but numb. Just numb. It doesn't feel right to be in here without Lani so I drag my mattress out and walk it into the day room and push it into a corner.

The dog trots over and lies down next to it. Dave comes out to check the noise, nods and pulls his own mattress out. I don’t bother telling him not to bother, he wouldn’t listen anyway.

He closes the door as I crash out, lying back on the soft mattress and feeling a deep, deep tiredness come over me.

A slight hissing noise sounds by my head, followed by an awful stench. I grimace and twist round so my head is at the other end. The dog looks up at me then rests her head again.

After choking for a few minutes I feel the pull of sleep sucking me under. My eyes getting heavier and heavier. I should be crying, we all should be. We should be wailing and smashing things up, doing anything we can to get rid of the pressure inside us. We should be drinking hard liquor and getting smashed.

But we don’t. We just sleep instead.

Forty-Four

‘Fuck…that hurt,’ I snap awake from Cookey cursing as he walks into something.

‘Turn the fucking lamp on,’ Blowers whispers which is more like a shout in the small room.

‘I can’t see the pissing lamp,’ Cookey whispers back.

‘Ssshh, you’ll wake Dave and Mr Howie,’ Nick’s voice comes from somewhere.

‘Bit late for that,’ I groan, sitting up I open my eyes and blink. The inside of the room is pitch black with no discernible difference between my eyes being open or closed.

‘Where are your torches?’ Dave asks.

‘Er…yeah Blowers where’s your torch?’ Cookey says.

‘Where’s your fucking torch?’ Blowers whispers back.

‘Why are you still whispering? They’re awake now,’ Cookey says.

‘Der…Clarence isn’t,’ Blowers snaps.

‘Fucking am now,’ a deep rumble comes across the darkness.

‘Oh well done Cookey!’ Nick sighs.

‘Fuck off…shit what’s that…oh…oh it’s just Meredith, shit that made me jump.’

A bright piercing light shines out as Dave guides his torch first into Cookey’s face, making him yelp then at Blowers and Nick, both of them yelping as the bright light hits them.

‘That’s for forgetting your torches,’ Dave says flatly, ‘the lamp is there,’ he shines the beam of light onto the gas lamp on the table.

‘I can’t see anything,’ Cookey whines, ‘my retinas are bleeding.’

‘Stop being a twat,’ Blowers makes his way to the table and starts rumbling for the lamp, his own eyes clearly still dazzled.

‘Stop Simon,’ Dave stands up, well the torch beam lifts higher so I assume he stands up, ‘you’ll burn the room down, I’ll do it.’

The torch light bobs to the table and rests on the surface. Dave’s hands come into view, then the flare of a match and the hiss of gas. An orange glow then illuminates the room, revealing the three lads stood there in their pants looking sleepy.

‘What time is it?’ Clarence calls.

‘Er…almost two,’ Nick replies.

‘What in the morning?’ I ask, shocked at how long we slept.

‘Yep and I’m bloody starving,’ Nick rubs his stomach.

‘Didn’t they howl then?’ I ask, ‘I haven’t heard them.’

‘They didn’t,’ Dave replies.

‘Can someone open that door, that dog’s arse stinks,’ I waft the air in front of my nose.

‘Yeah I’m going for a smoke while Cookey brews up,’ Nick says.

‘Why me?’ Cookey asks.

‘Cos you got Aprils boobs in your face…’ Blowers replies walking across the room.

‘No, I said if you left me there I’d do the brew’s for a month…but you didn’t…you bastards pulled her off and then started flirting with her, smooth fuckers…’ he tuts.

‘I’ll bloody do it, you three piss off outside and give me some peace,’ Clarence grumbles. He walks through the door into the dayroom and stretches. Like a bear rearing up onto its back legs.

‘Yes!’ Cookey takes the victory and heads for the door. Meredith squeezes out as soon as he pulls it open. ‘Bloody hell, she needed a piss quick,’ he calls back, ‘fuck…er…Mr Howie…’ He calls.

‘What?’ But I’m already up and heading for the door at the tone in his voice. We cram through, all of us responding to Cookey’s voice.

‘Fuck me,’ Nick stares out.

The Saxon stands just down from us, facing away with the rear doors open. We can see it clearly in the darkness from the many flaming torches stuck into the ground. Long sticks with flickering flames dancing into air, embedded into the ground at set intervals.

The glow of the flames cast the interior of the fort in a soft orange glow. Warm and inviting. We start moving forward, venturing towards the Saxon. Dave shines his torch inside to reveal the gleaming back area. The bench seats scrubbed clean, the rifles we dumped in the back are all stacked on the ground to the side, along with our pistols. All of them wiped clean of blood and gore. Dave climbs in and moves to the front, shining his torch, ‘all cleaned,’ he calls back, ‘not a drop of blood anywhere.’

‘Smells nice too,’ Nick leans in sniffing the inside of the vehicle.

‘Pine disinfectant,’ a voice says from behind us. We spin round to see Marcy stood there, ‘it was actually toilet cleaner but it did the job, I’m er, sorry if we woke you, we tried to be quiet.’

She’s changed her top, wearing a plain white t shirt now instead of the low cut vest top. The light casts her skin in a golden tone and shimmers from her long hair.

‘Er…it’s okay,’ I reply, my voice low and hoarse from a combination of sleep and the sight of her. I suddenly become aware of being stood there in my underpants. I think we all do by the awkward fidgets of hands going to the front of groins.

She laughs, a clear rich sound that fills the air, ‘get dressed, we’ve got some food for you, coffee all round?’ She smiles and walks off into the darkness.

‘Food?’ Nick perks up, ‘I’m starving…what kind of food is it?’

‘You’ll see,’ her voice drifts back.

‘Er…we getting changed then?’ Clarence asks in a low voice.

We head back over to our room, finding our clothes all neatly folded in piles. All dried and ready to be put on.

‘Fuck,’ Cookey exclaims again. He goes to his pile and picks his t shirt up, he stares at it for a second before sniffing it suspiciously, ‘they’ve washed them again, it smells…well it smells nice.’

‘Really?’ I grab my trousers and hold them to my nose. A clean floral smell comes from them. We get dressed, feeling the comfort of fresh clean clothes for the first time in days.

‘Boots have been done too,’ Clarence remarks as he hefts his up to inspect them.

Meredith spins to growl at someone approaching from the shadows, Nick grabs her collar while we squint into the light. The figure comes into view. April, carrying a tray full of steaming mugs.

She looks at the dog then smiles at us before stretching down to place the tray on the ground. The three lads leaning forward to stare at her bent over backside. She twists round to stare back at them, smiling as they all quickly look away.

‘Food will be ready soon,’ she walks off, again with several men staring at her backside.

‘What’s going on?’ Blowers asks suspiciously but without taking his eyes off her retreating form.

‘I don’t know,’ I reply quietly.

‘Might be poisoned,’ Nick tears his eyes off the woman to look at the coffee, ‘Cookey you should try one first.’

‘Why me?’

‘Because you’re the ugliest.’

‘I’m not the ugliest…Blowers is.’

‘No he’s the gayest.’

‘You’re the stupidest then,’ Blowers retorts, ‘here, I’ll take one for the team,’ he lifts a mug and sniffs it dramatically before taking a sip, he shrugs and nods, ‘tastes alright.’

‘Well you wouldn’t taste the poison dickhead,’ Cookey says, ‘that comes later.’

‘Oh right,’ Blowers takes another sip, ‘fuck it.’

‘Maybe they’re laced with the zombie virus just so I turn and April can have her way with me,’ Cookey says with a wishful expression.

‘You wish,’ Nick laughs as he takes a mug. We dive in, grabbing mugs while looking around suspiciously.

‘Dave, if I turn and I’m not evil please don’t kill me…’ Cookey says.

‘Okay Alex,’ Dave replies in his flat voice.

‘Seriously…her boobs were right in my face…like actually touching me.’

‘Okay Alex.’

‘I think she pulled them out a bit for me,’ Cookey leans back to rest against the wall and stretch his legs out, ‘in fact the more I think about it, I reckon she saw you two ugly bastards and went round you to get at me.’

‘You’re such a twat,’ Blowers replies.

‘You were closest that’s why, you probably saw her coming and dragged her down on top of you,’ Nick says as Blowers laughs, spitting his coffee out.

‘Yeah,’ Cookey grins.

‘Seriously though, is this fucked up or what?’ Nick asks looking round at us.

‘Feels that way mate,’ I reply.

‘Why they being so nice?’ Blowers asks.

‘I don’t know,’ I look round at them, ‘Marcy said she wanted to hand herself in for testing, that they were different and not like the others…maybe this is their way of showing it.’

‘You think?’ Clarence asks.

I shrug, ‘I don’t know, what else can it be?’ They could have killed us several times over by now…either that or they want something, but fuck knows what.’

‘Fancy a walk down?’ Clarence asks. We all rise up and head inside to grab our rifles before taking our mugs and walking down towards the tents.

As we get closer we see they’re back in order. The ruined ones removed and all the litter and debris removed. We see figures lying prone within them. Undead looking asleep. No talking, no noise, just hundreds of bodies lying on their backs scattered throughout the various tents. Meredith walks with us, flicking her head side to side to watch.

‘Bodies have gone too,’ Dave shines his torch towards the slope, at the now clear ground.

‘They have been busy,’ Clarence remarks. We walk on, quietly scanning the area and marvelling at how orderly everything is, eerily ordered. Too ordered.

‘This is creepy as fuck,’ Blowers stares round and chucks the last dregs of his coffee on the floor, ‘fucking place is crawling with those things, sleeping in the fucking tents and living here like it’s their place…’ his lip curls up with sudden distaste.

‘They saved us though,’ Nick replies quietly.

Blowers just carries on staring round, his dark eyes scanning from tent to tent, ‘yeah,’ he says after a lengthy pause.

We walk onto the main central aisle and further down, drawing closer to much brighter lights in the centre.

Meredith raises her head, sniffing at the air followed closely by Nick, ‘what’s that smell?’ He cocks his head to one side, just like the dog, ‘cooking…that’s food cooking!’

Walking closer we all get the scent of hot food being cooked, spices mixed with wood smoke and gas.

Nick sniffs harder as he concentrates, ‘curry…that’s bloody curry that is.’

‘It fucking is,’ Cookey joins in with the sniffing, taking long inhalations through his nose. The dog is already wagging her tail with her head fixed in that direction.

Flaming torches surround a collection of tables and chairs, all of them brought out from offices or rooms and pushed together. Grills and gas burners flame away with pots of steaming food cooking in them. The distinctive scent of curry wets my taste buds, making me realise how completely and utterly famished I am.

We stop and watch as Mildred, the grey haired old lady moves between the pots, stirring and checking them. Reginald and Marcy stand nearby talking to her. Reginald sees us and stands upright, cutting his sentence of midway. Marcy turns, smiling as she walks over.

‘It’s ready, sit down we’ll plate it up.’

‘What’s going on? What is this?’ I ask, despite the hunger I’m starting to feel manipulated from this contrived environment.

‘Food,’ she replies simply, ‘we made enough for you too.’

‘What does that mean? You too?’ I demand.

‘We’ve been clearing up this mess all day, you were sleeping and we were working and now we’re hungry…like I said, we made enough for you too.’

‘Hungry? For food?’

She pauses and thinks before answering, ‘we need to eat just like you, please, sit down so we can talk.’

‘Mr Howie,’ Nick asks quietly, ‘I can see you’re cross but I’m starving, I can get some food from the stores if you don’t want to eat here but…’

‘Howie, it’s just food, let your lads have a decent meal,’ Marcy smiles warmly, ‘come on, come and sit down.’

‘Boss?’ Nick asks, he looks at me, waiting for my answer before moving.

I nod and walk forward, staring at the pots and then the plates stacked up. I move round as though I’m likely to find something wrong, something I can point at and shout, ha ha! We’ve caught you. But there isn’t anything. Just some tables and chairs and the delicious smell of hot food.

‘Is that curry?’ Nick blunders straight into the kitchen and lifts the lid of a pot, cursing when he burns his fingers.

‘Yes it is now go and sit down,’ Mildred shoos him out, waving her hands at him.

‘Where did you get curry from?’ Nick asks.

‘Your stores were very well stocked,’ she replies.

I take a seat, the others all sit down too, assault rifles placed by our legs as we self-consciously sit at the table and look around.

April appears carrying a big plastic cool-box, she sets it down and flips the lid before pulling out bottles of beer dripping from the cold water they were resting in. She walks down, placing one in front of each of us, giving a big smile to Cookey who just stares at her like a puppy.

‘It’s cold,’ Nick touches the bottle, he takes a big swig and sighs deeply, ‘shit…that’s nice.’

Clarence and I look at each other, both of us feeling very unsettled and wary. Plates get loaded with big heaps of boiled rice. Curried food gets spooned on as April and Marcy move back and forth, placing the plates of mouth-watering food in front of us.

Nick goes to dig in but sees Clarence and I both waiting, reluctantly he pauses, his fork hovering over the food.

We watch as more plates are put down on the table, then Marcy, April, Reginald and Mildred come and join us.

‘Tuck in,’ Marcy prompts. I lift my fork and load it up, lifting it slowly to my mouth while staring at the four of them. I don’t want to eat it. I don’t want to take their food but my stomach is rumbling and I can’t remember ever being this hungry.

I shove the food in and close my eyes as my taste buds explode from the flavour. Succulent meat with sweet curried sauce. I take another forkful and keep going. The rice is fluffy and perfect with just a hint of salt.

It may be the hunger, or twelve days of eating shit snack food, but I cannot remember ever eating anything so nice.

‘Boys, you need to slow down or you’ll be sick,’ Mildred remarks. I pause with the fork halfway in my mouth and look at the lads attacking the food with gusto. Shrugging I keep going.

The beer is cool and refreshing. The bottles get drained and April goes to get more for us. Nick waves her back with a mouthful of food and helps himself, plonking a whole load of them in the middle.

I eat and eat, savouring every bite and feeling the pleasure of chewing real food. My stomach fills quickly, having shrunk from not eating decent meals for so long. Clarence just keeps going, his arm dropping and lifting as he pushes the food into his mouth.

‘Can zombies eat then?’ Cookey asks between mouthfuls.

‘We prefer the term living challenged,’ Reginald replies, ‘and yes we can eat.’

‘Living challenged?’ Cookey lifts his eyebrows, ‘is that what you call yourselves?’

‘That’s what Reggie calls us,’ Marcy replies.

‘I thought you just wanted to eat brains and shit…well not shit as in poo but you know brains and flesh,’ Cookey continues without a care in the world. We all look to Marcy, waiting for the reply.

‘We do,’ she says bluntly, ‘every one of us feels an incredible urge to eat human flesh…don’t look at me like that, you know exactly what we are…but…’

‘Hang on,’ I cut in pushing my empty plate away.

‘Let me finish,’ she then cuts me off, ‘do you want some more?’ She asks motioning towards my plate.

‘No, no thank you, it was lovely but I’m full.’

‘Is there more?’ Nick asks, ‘is it in that pot? Can I get some?’

‘Help yourself, take what you want,’ Marcy calls out as he heads into the cooking area. The others, apart from Dave and I, head over to re-fill their plates. Marcy moves down so she’s sat closer, pretty much opposite me.

‘As I was saying,’ she continues, ‘er…will this conversation put you off your food?’ She asks the lads.

‘No fucking chance,’ Nick quips, then looks at Dave with an apologetic expression, ‘I meant no, er…no it won’t.’

‘Thank you Nicholas,’ Dave nods.

Marcy reaches for a bottle of beer and screws the cap off, ‘we all have the urge, it’s like the strongest thing you can imagine…and it never stops, but…we are still people with bodies the same as you, and we need food and water the same as you.’

‘But those things don’t eat, they just stand there drooling in the same place for days and days waiting for someone to come along.’

‘And we are not those things,’ Marcy replies, ‘well, yes,’ she nods, ‘the ones in the tents would be if they were left alone, but…’ her voice trails off, ‘it’s hard to explain.’

‘Try,’ I prompt her.

She tilts her head as though in thought, her hair falls to one side as her mouth purses, ‘right…well…sorry to bring this up but Darren turned me, he could speak and think but he was messed up, you were the only thing he could focus on,’ she looks at me, ‘he was driven to destroy you. I saw you kill him, I saw all of you stood over him as he died and I thought you were going to come for me but you didn’t, you left. So I did what I thought was the right thing and set about getting more…’

She explains her story, and here in the soft flickering lights in the sultry warm air, drinking a cold beer after eating a hearty meal, it seems perfectly normal. I watch her closely, not only taking in what she says but watching her mouth as she speaks. The way her lips move, the way the end of her nose twitches as she talks, her high cheekbones that show when she smiles, her eyebrows that lift and fall as she expresses herself.

One thing is clear, she’s brutally honest. Telling us how she marched with an ever increasing horde through the towns and villages, establishing a method of clearing street by street. She explains how most of the hosts are the same as normal. Barely functioning host bodies that have a sole purpose of finding more hosts. Then a few, like April, could speak but had no individual character. She told us that Darren could access them like a hive mind with a collective conscious but that she couldn’t. She could will them to do things, but only basic functions and the more intricate the function the harder it was. She called them communicators, the ones that could speak, she said how she felt that having a hive mind would be too complicated and she didn’t want that. That it appeared that when she needed more to communicate with, so more were able to do so.

Then there were the exceptions to the rule like her, Reginald and Mildred. Both of which were able to think freely but they held an absolute devotion to her, as she had to Darren.

Marcy talked openly about the main town on the Isle of Wight and how she took out the fortified and secure High Street. Weirdly, we all smiled and laughed as she explained about poor Robbie. Such is the setting of the scene we are in, that we feel relaxed and comfortable enough to relate to her tale.

Then she felt a change starting. That she wished they didn’t have to suffer to become part of the new way. She told us about the prison and some sex offenders and how she wanted to punish them, but once they had turned they were free from any past sin and to punish them again would be the same as humans had always done.

‘I went back to Reginald and gathered the ones that could speak,’ she sips at her beer, ‘I asked them a series of test question, you know…who lived in a house, who lived in a flat, who had what job…that was so I could be sure they were able to answer fully. Then I asked if any suffered from diseases like Diabetes. One of them said he did, that he had to take Insulin every day but now he didn’t because he was no longer diabetic.’

‘What?’ I lean forward and stare at her.

‘He said,’ she stares back, ‘he said he was no longer diabetic, he didn’t need insulin…we asked some others and found some had been on medication for things but…and this is the issue…they were all freshly turned, forgive the way I say that.’

‘No carry on,’ I prompt her, Nick pushes his plate away with a belch and apologies before pulling his smokes out and handing them around.

‘Er…mind if we smoke?’ I ask Marcy.

‘We’re zombies…do you think we mind?’ She jokes. The lads all grin at her, clearly entranced.

‘Anyway, they were freshly turned so we couldn’t be sure if they were just masking whatever symptoms they may have had…but it seems clear to me, that the infection…the disease or virus or whatever this is, that it can heal us quicker, normal things that hurt you don’t bother us so much, we can take more punishment and mend easier, they don’t feel pain or suffering…’

‘They?’ I cut in.

‘I do, so does Reginald but not Mildred, this is why we came here. The infection has…I don’t know…like retracted to the very least it can be with me and Reggie, like it’s testing me, or letting me see how far I can get with my own intelligence…’

‘So you deal with that how? By not turning anymore people and coming here to hand yourself over for testing.’

‘Well yes,’ she nods, ‘after that we didn’t turn anyone else…ah, no we did with Mildred and her group but that was different.’

‘Different how?’ I ask.

‘Just different,’ Marcy stares back at me.

‘Different how?’ I ask again, unwilling to let the point go.

‘The people that took your fort got into their group. They gang raped the women and killed some too, we got there just after…a boy was hurt and dying, the same as Lani…so with their consent we turned him, he came back and then they pretty much stepped forward and asked to be taken.’

‘Okay, go on,’ I glance down with a sudden feeling of guilt about Lani.

‘Howie, all of this…’ she waves her hand around her, ‘we did this without fuss, without bother…we moved thousands of people onto a ferry within minutes, then we took them off and put them onto lifeboats…no fuss…no delays…we got them here with ease. Yes, they are infected and terrible and all the things you say they are, but,’ she lowers her head to looks straight at me, ‘if there is any remote chance that this infection can cure diseases…I don’t know, AIDS, HIV…Cancer…Then surely it is a good thing. If the infection can be harnessed so the good parts are used, the lack of violence and aggression, the ability to work together without greed or jealousy… imagine what could be achieved.’

‘So everyone would become infected and lead this perfect life then? What about when you die Marcy? What happens when your will is no longer controlling them.’

‘No, you’re missing my point,’ she leans in, ‘not infect you…vaccinate you from the worst parts of the disease while curing you from everything else…not human, not us…something else…look I don’t know the answers, I came here to find you to help me look for the answers…if you had doctors I would now be strapped to a bed with April being tested…’

‘Whoa,’ Cookey grins, ‘oh…sorry…nice thought though.’

Marcy grins at him and leans back, ‘Howie, I just know that if humans had been left alone we’d have wiped ourselves out…constant war and famine, greed, poverty…this has happened, I didn’t cause it and neither did you, it was thrust on us…so we’ve just got to deal with it.’

I light another smoke and lean back, thinking of everything she said.

‘So,’ Clarence leans in, ‘you’re saying that you think this…infection can cure diabetes and cancer…and you want to find a way of isolating the good parts of it and not the bad…so that mankind can live happily ever after?’

‘Essentially, yes…don’t scoff,’ she laughs, ‘if I had said to any of you two weeks ago that any of this would happen would you have believed me?’

‘Fair point,’ I concede.

‘I have proven that we are capable of making something good come of this…before it’s too late.’

‘By making everyone be like you?’

‘No Howie, by making them halfway between the both of us, all the good of humanity without the bad. No suffering, no pain…no disease…no greed or war…everyone working together for the good of everyone else.’

‘Communism then,’ Clarence remarks.

‘No because Communism is flawed,’ Reginald cuts in, ‘the idea of communism is perfect, but the second you put a human being in charge of others you have corruption and greed with the masses being oppressed and ruled by fear.’

‘And your way is different how?’ Clarence replies.

‘Now, at this time,’ Marcy replies, ‘yes, I rule all of these with my will. If I withdrew that they would be coming at you like all the others have been…but what I’m saying is that…’

‘I get it,’ Clarence lists a hand, ‘I understand what you’re saying…take the good from it but not the bad…’

‘Yes,’ she nods.

‘How?’ I ask her.

‘We did this…cleaned the fort and all of these things to show you what we are capable of, I wanted you to see this…’

‘Why? And how do we do what you’re planning?’

‘Why, because we needed you to understand and listen… and forgive me but there’s enough of the woman left in me to know that a clean house, a good meal and a cold beer does wonders to get a bloke listening…’ she grins mischievously. We all laugh at the way she says it.

‘We need you to find a way, find doctors…bring them here…do what it takes,’ she adds in earnest. I stare across at her. The red eyes don’t seem so bad now, the more I look at them the more normal they seem. Maybe it’s the light and beer.

‘I see,’ I reply after a while.

‘If you want us to leave we will,’ Marcy sighs, ‘this is your fort and you probably think we don’t belong here…say the word and we’ll go, but this will just keep on going and every day we both lose so many people…life after life being wasted and killed when there might be another way…if nothing else,’ she leans forwards and stares at me with intensity, ‘if nothing else…then do it to find a vaccine for all the survivors, do it to find a cure for us…whatever your motives are…with us and you have the dog.’

‘Meredith!’ Nick exclaims, ‘where is she? She hasn’t eaten anything yet.’

‘She’s sat under the table by my feet,’ Dave says.

‘Can she eat curry?’ Cookey asks

‘Don’t give her curry, her farts are bad enough already, I groan.

‘There’s dog food in the stores,’ April says as she heads off.

‘I’ll help you,’ Cookey calls out quickly getting up from the table.

‘Me too,’ Nick is already on his feet walking after the girl with Blowers right behind him.

‘Piss off I said I would help,’ Cookey hisses at the other two. They walk off, bickering into the darkness.

‘I think they rather like April,’ Marcy muses with a slight grin.

‘Which should be very strongly discouraged,’ Reginald says seriously, ‘Mr Howie you should speak with your men…’

‘They know what they’re doing,’ I cut him off, ‘they’ve been through hell so letting them piss about flirting with a pretty girl won’t hurt.’

‘She’s not a girl,’ Reginald replies, ‘she is a living challenged person and it is not appropriate.’

‘April is a beautiful young woman,’ Clarence says, ‘and it’ll do them good to have something other than killing to think about.’

Marcy and I look at each other, eyes locked.

‘Yes but she is not the same as they are,’ Reginald counters.

‘Will April hurt them? Will she try and bite or go for them?’ Clarence asks. Marcy and I watch each other across the table.

‘No,’ Reginald blanches, ‘not in any capacity, April appears to be developing her own character and greater individuality which is another reason why we need your help as it appears the individual host has the ability to evolve even when infected.’

‘So what’s the harm?’ Clarence asks, ‘they’re young lads that should be mixing with people of their own age and having fun…as long as April doesn't mind the attention then I don’t see a problem.’

‘Quite the opposite, I think April is enjoying the attention,’ Reginald replies, ‘but be that as it may they need to understand she is not the same as them.’

Marcy takes a slow sip from the bottle, her eyes lingering on me. I watch closely, captivated by her.

‘Look Reggie,’ Clarence leans forward stretching a huge meaty forearm on the table as he takes a big pull from his bottle, ‘they’re not gonna try and kiss her or…or anything else.’

‘I should hope not!’ Reginald says haughtily, ‘that is something that cannot happen unless they want to be turned, any exchange of bodily fluids will cause the infection to be passed.’

A subtle change as a look of sadness comes into her eyes.

‘We have many beautiful girls here,’ Reginald continues, ‘and granted yes they are quite stunning in appearance with full figures, long legs, flawless skin…very beautiful, very beautiful indeed…er…where was I, oh yes…but the danger is that your men will see them as human when they are not.’

‘They won’t,’ Clarence takes another long drink, empties the bottle and reaches for another, ‘they’re good lads…very good lads,’ he points at Reginald.

Reginald drinks from a bottle. The contrast of the tidy small man drinking a bottle of beer doesn't quite fit but he sips away as he and Clarence descend into discussion.

‘I am sure they are good lads, they certainly seem very loyal and you must be very proud of them…’

‘Proud isn’t the word,’ Clarence cuts in with just a hint of slur in his speech, ‘they’re the best…the best…in fact…you should get all those beautiful girls up here so the lads can let their hair down.’

‘Oh no,’ Reginald shakes his head, ‘oh no no no…young people full of alcohol and soft flickering lights…recipe for…er…recipe for…gosh I can’t find the words I need…bad things…’

‘Here,’ Clarence takes another beer and passes one down to Reginald, ‘ah they won’t do anything…’ he smiles, ‘just give ‘em a nice night for a change.’

‘Won’t do anything,’ Reginald slurs as he drinks from the new bottle, ‘I think not! Have you seen the girls? They’re beautiful…stunning…gorgeous…splendid! Just…just…wonderful creatures!’ His voice rises as he goes along.

‘Well where are they then?’ Clarence looks around, ‘they should be here having a drink and relaxing.’

‘My thoughts exactly,’ Reginald announces, ‘we should find them and bring them,’ he hiccups, ‘bring them here.’

‘Yes!’ Clarence’s voice booms out, ‘we need to find these girls and give them some of our beer.’

‘What girls?’ Nick asks as they walk back, he puts a huge bowl of dog food down on the floor and quickly steps back as Meredith dives in.

‘Reggie knows some gorgeous girls that want to come and drink with us,’ Clarence exclaims with a huge grin.

‘Really?’ Blowers asks, ‘seriously?’

‘Yep cos I was telling him how proud of you I am…me and Dave and Mr Howie are very proud of you so drink your beers and relax,’ Clarence stands up and grabs another bottle, forcing it at Blowers as he wraps a long heavy arm round his shoulders. Blowers grins and takes a long drink.

‘But!’ Reginald shouts in triumph as he stands up, he walks closer to the lads, clinking his bottle against theirs, ‘but…you cannot kiss my beautiful girls…for even though they are quite simply delightful it would be the kiss of death and be a very bad thing,’ he shakes his head sadly, ‘it’s very sad.’

‘My lads won’t kiss ‘em will you boys?’ Clarence roars. They shake their heads grinning at the drunken giant.

‘And if you do…put a condom on your tongue…ha!’

‘No no no…’ Reginald shakes his head, ‘condoms go on the penis not on the tongue…I read about it.’

‘April!’ Clarence grins, ‘here…have a beer but don’t go kissing my boys…’he thrusts a bottle at the smiling girl.

‘I won’t,’ she replies softly to three audible joking groans.

‘You can flirt,’ Clarence presses on with a serious face, ‘and…and you can flirt…and…’

‘And you can dance!’ Reginald adds with a shout.

‘Yes! You can dance,’ Clarence seizes the word, ‘you can flirt and dance and…but no kissing and none of the…’

‘No sexing,’ Reginald points his bottle at April.

‘No kissing and no sexing…okay,’ April nods.

‘Right my boys…get ready to move out…we have to find these women,’ Clarence roars.

‘Yes and I shall lead you!’ Reginald shouts with enthusiasm.

‘Mr Reggie shall lead us,’ Clarence repeats, ‘and we need music Reggie…and hang on…girls don’t like beer do they,’ his face falls as though a great sadness comes over him, ‘and we only have beer.’

‘There’s wine in the stores!’ Reginald shouts, ‘girls love wine…I read that too.’

‘Wonderful,’ Clarence immediately cheers up, ‘we are moving out…but we shall do so stealthily with stealth and cunning,’ he walks off, tripping over the first tent and crashing down with a shout. The lads roar with laughter as they blunder in trying to help him up. He’s so big he just pulls them down with him until they’re all rolling about drunkenly. Eventually, with shouted instructions from a very drunk Reginald, they get to their feet and move off into the darkness.

‘April…you coming?’ Cookey shouts. April looks at Marcy who nods while smiling broadly. April moves off to follow the sounds of singing and crashing as they trip and fall through the tents.

‘I’ll go with them Mr Howie,’ Dave gets up.

‘Okay mate…make sure they don’t do anything stupid.’

‘On it,’ he walks off holding his assault rifle. I turn back and look at Marcy, both of us grinning broadly.

‘They need to let off steam,’ I say quietly.

‘Sure,’ Marcy nods.

‘Everything they’ve been through, and Clarence was kind of in love with my sister…he saw Dave kill her, we all did.’ She takes a sharp intake of breath and grimaces, ‘so…they need the release.’

‘What about you?’ She asks with a worried expression.

‘Me?’

‘You saw it too, plus everything else…you should go with them ,’ she leans forward and smiles, ‘and those girls are very beautiful.’

‘Are they?’ I ask.

‘Very.’

‘Nah, not my thing,’ I shake my head. ‘Er…Lani won’t be with the girls will she?’

‘No, she won’t be,’ Marcy replies quickly, her expression changing quickly, ‘that must be hard for you too, losing Lani,’ she asks.

It should be but I still feel numb. Just numb and void, like none of it has hit home yet, ‘yeah,’ I nod and glance away. The only thing I feel is a deep sense of shame at being sat here drinking beer like this.

‘What’s wrong?’ She asks me.

‘Nothing,’ I reply quickly.

‘All the humour just went from your face, you get a dark look that comes over you…it’s…’ she stares at me, searching my face. I hold the gaze for a few seconds and feel myself becoming entranced again. I remember thinking of her when we were fighting, how the image of her got me into that state I needed. I remember the feel of her body when she held me, her warm breath on my ear.

‘Howie?’ She asks startled as I quickly stand up.

‘I need some air,’ I reply without thinking. I start walking off, heading towards the back of the fort, my rifle held in one hand.

I feel angry and wound up at myself. Angry that I’m thinking like this. For fuck’s sake, I saw my sister get killed. I saw Terri and Debbie get their throats cut out. Lani turned. And I’m thinking like this. Get a grip.

I still feel a sense of pleasure at hearing her running up behind me, a quickening of my heart. I stare into my soul and hate myself now more than ever.

‘Here,’ she comes to my side and hands me a fresh bottle of beer, ‘you need to release too.’

‘Beer isn’t the answer,’ I take the bottle all the same.

‘They don’t think that way,’ she remarks at the sounds of distant singing and shouts coming from the lads and Reginald.

We walk in silence, side by side. Both of us taking sips from our bottles. I look round at the tents, at the dying torch lights with flames that flicker ever smaller, the shadows growing deeper and longer.

‘Do you hate me?’ She asks softly after a long silence.

‘Yes,’ I snarl at her, my voice low and growling. She drops her head but keeps walking. We reach the end of the tents and walk across the rear of the fort, heading towards the rear gate. I fumble for a second with both my hands full.

‘Let me,’ she steps forward to pull the bolts back while I move out the way, avoiding looking at her and making sure there is distance between us.

She pushes the gate open and steps back, waiting for me to go first. I walk through and move down the narrow beach to stand at the water’s edge. The moon is high and bright, casting a silvery reflection on the smooth surface of the sea. Stars twinkle and glitter. No breeze, not even a flutter of wind. Just heat and quiet. Almost perfect quiet apart from the distant drunken roars of the lads drifting across the fort.

Standing in silence I feel my pockets for a smoke and curse when I realise they’ve been left on the table.

She glances over but doesn't say anything. I drop down onto the floor and put my bottle and gun down while I start unlacing my boots. She stands watching me.

I shrug them off and pull my trousers up then ease my hot feet down into the cooling water.

‘Looks nice,’ she comments, her voice low and quiet, ‘mind if I join you?’

‘Do what you want.’

She sits down and starts working on her own laces, pulling them out to tug the boots free of her feet. I glance down and see her slip her socks off to reveal long slender feet.

‘My jeans are too tight, I won’t be able to pull them up,’ she says. She tries anyway, tugging at the bottom of her jeans and trying to force the material up her calves. Grunting with effort she keeps going, tugging and pulling at them.

‘I don’t think it’ll work,’ I laugh at the sight, she glances up at me and smiles.

‘Sod it,’ she slides her feet over the edge and shuffles forward, plunging the bottom of her legs into the water and soaking the jeans, ‘oh that’s nice,’ she sighs.

We slip back into silence, just the tiny ripples of water as she moves her legs slowly back and forth.

‘I would have taken them off, but then you’d see the bite mark on my backside.’

‘Is that where he bit you?’

‘Yep, right on the arse.’

‘Must have hurt.’

‘It did, lots.’

‘What does…’

‘I’m sorry,’ she speaks over me. We look at each other awkwardly for speaking at the same time.

‘What were you saying?’ She asks.

‘No you first, what did you say?’

‘I said I’m sorry.’

‘What for?’ I ask her.

She shrugs and stares out at the water, ‘for everything, for all of this…I’m sorry it happened…’

‘Not your fault.’

‘Yes it was,’ she faces me, ‘I came after you just as much as Darren…you have no idea of the bad things we did, the torture and torment we gave out…the suffering we caused…and just so we could send them after you, so many lives just gone.’

‘What do you want Marcy? Want me to say it’s okay and all is forgiven? Because you can fuck off.’

‘No. I can never be forgiven for that. The others can be because they don’t know anything else, it’s not them doing it, it’s the infection inside them…but me, I could think and I still did it.’

‘Did you enjoy it?’

‘Yes,’ she nods, ‘I loved it…sorry if that hurts but I did, I loved the power and the strength, I could see Darren failing and was learning all the time from him…but that was before.’

‘Yeah, before your grand epiphany.’

‘Sarcasm doesn't suit you,’ she replies sharply, ‘I can lie if it makes easier for you.’

I shrug back at her, ‘it is what it is.’

‘I killed men, women and children…I did it while they screamed and begged, I tore babies from their mothers arms and laughed while I did it…’

‘Stop,’ I growl.

‘But I did those things. You’ve killed, you’ve probably killed more than me, children too.’

‘It’s different, they weren’t conscious beings that felt pain, they had no awareness of the death or the suffering.’

I glance over and look at the side of her face. Thick tears stream down her cheeks and roll off her jaw, landing softly on her hands. She doesn't sniff or make any show of crying, but does so silently.

I feel a stupid urge to comfort her. To put my arm round her shoulders and say nice things.

‘Stop it,’ I snap instead.

‘Sorry,’ she whispers so softly, the tears come harder, falling faster. Her chest heaves as she fights to sob without noise. She turns her head away.

‘This part of the show?’

She doesn't answer but stays turned away, her body moving with the silent sobbing. Then it gets worse, much worse. She collapses on the ground, heaving as powerful weeping takes over. Still she stays as quiet as possible, just low murmurs and sniffs but I can see from the way she moves that she’s sobbing her heart out.

The urge comes back stronger. I stare at her form. After what she just said she deserves the pain, she should be shot for it. But right now she is also another person and one that has shown kindness and respect to us. She saved us from being killed. She removed our dead and sacrificed her own people so we would live. She fed us and made us feel safe.

For that, for what she’s done for the lads, I stretch my hand out and rest it on her leg. She flinches from the contact. I rub softly, feeling the warmth of her body through the material of her jeans.

‘Take it easy,’ I say softly.

‘I can’t ever take that away,’ her voice is muffled, ‘I’ll never be able to have not done those things.’

‘No you can’t,’ I reply, ‘nothing you ever do will take that away…and you deserve every minute of pain and agony you get, I hope you suffer for the rest of your life in untold misery…but if what you said in there is true then you have no choice but to hold it together.’

Long minutes go by. I keep rubbing her leg softly but not speaking. Eventually her hand reaches out and takes hold of mine. Again I feel that thrill as she touches me. A pleasurable tingle that flutters my heart. The weeping eases and slowly she sits back up. The position she’s in means I have to let go of her leg but I don’t want to. It’s the last thing I want to do.

But I do. I pull my hand away gently and instantly feel the loss of the contact.

‘Thank you,’ she sighs and rubs at her face, pulling the bottom of her t shirt up to dry the tears away. I catch a glimpse of her tanned stomach and again my heart starts beating harder. It isn’t flat or perfectly toned, but soft and gently undulating from being bent forward. She works for a few seconds, pressing the material of the t shirt into the corners of her eyes, the top rides up higher flashing the bottom edge of her bra. I stare for a second and make myself turn away. Fixing my eyes on the water.

‘You okay?’ I ask hoarsely.

‘Yeah, yeah fine now…I’m sorry.’

I feel stifled, trapped. I can’t be this close to her. The attraction is just too strong. Sweat breaks out on my head and trickles down my neck. The air feels charged and too hot.

‘Howie…are you okay?’ Her hands touches my back lightly, ‘you’re breathing really hard…’

‘I’m fine,’ all I can feel is the touch of her hand on my back. She rubs it for a second and leans in closer.

‘Don’t’ I growl.

‘What’s wrong?’ She asks, ‘you’re shaking…’

I take a deep breath and force myself to exhale slowly. It doesn't help. I try to fix my mind on everything that’s happened. On Lani, on Sarah…but that doesn't work either. She’s leaning against me now, her body pressed against the side of my arm. The heat from her radiates.

‘Howie,’ she says softly and drops her head down to look at me. I turn slowly and face her. My heart booms as I see her mouth gently opening. Her soft skin and dark hair that hangs down.

Her breath on my ear when she kissed me. Her arms that were wrapped round me. Her soft voice that took all the anger and rage away.

‘Don’t,’ she whispers.

‘What?’ I whisper back, staring into her eyes. A deep look of sadness steals over her.

‘Don’t kiss me,’ I realise how close I am, that I’m moving in to her without knowing what I’m doing. She closes her eyes but doesn't move.

‘Don’t Howie…please,’ she pleads softly, unable to move back, feeling the same urge I do. Her face moves in closer. My arm moves round to her back, feeling the press of her body.

‘I can’t stop thinking about you…when you held me…your voice in my ear…’

I feel her hand glide over my back, to my neck and into my hair. My own doing the same as it traces along her spine until my fingers brush against her hair then delve in to feel the nape of her neck. She shudders and exhales slowly.

Our faces meet. Cheek against cheek. We move slowly, rubbing so very slightly. Our bodies become entwined, arms wrapped round each other.

‘Tell me to stop…tell me to leave,’ I whisper.

‘I can’t…’

‘I’m sorry I hurt you…I should never have done that…’

‘It’s okay,’ she moves against me, our faces lifting and dropping as our skin touches. Mouths moving ever closer to each other.

‘When I put my thumb in your mouth…the feeling was like nothing I’ve ever known…’

‘I felt it.’

‘I wanted you to bite me…I wanted to be with you.’

‘I wanted to take you Howie, not for what I am but for me…I wanted you for me, to be a part of me so I could be a part of you.’

‘I want that now…’

‘I do, so much…Howie…I..I don’t know what this is…they fear you, we all fear you…there’s a power in you that’s so dangerous but so good.’

‘You are all I could think about, just you Marcy…every time I held you in my mind I became unstoppable…untouchable…and that feeling, oh that feeling of your mouth…’ My hand slides gently over her stomach, slowly higher over the contours of her breasts, my fingers feel her throat where I gripped her so hard, fingertips gliding up onto her chin. My hand splays out, my thumb finds her mouth, touching the corner of her lips.

‘I could never hurt you again Marcy.’

‘I’ll never let anything hurt you Howie…I’d die first…’ my thumb feels the soft movement of her lips and the moist heat of her breath.

‘The first second I saw you Howie, the world was spinning…the ground was heaving…I saw all the seasons flash by me…by us…cold winds and deep snow…day and night became the same…’

‘I felt that! I saw it… I saw the snow and felt the wind… then I was falling…’

‘But the bottom was never there…what is this? What is this Howie?’

‘I don’t know…I hate you with every part of me, I hate what you are, what you’ve done…but I want you, I need you…’ My thumb presses harder into her lips.

‘I need you, I want to be a part of you…love isn’t strong enough for what I feel Howie.’

The corners of our lips brush as my thumb presses harder. Her lips part, welcoming my thumb as it slides into the warmth, her tongue probes the end as I slowly draw it out.

Breathing harder and harder. The pain of denial rising as the temptation increases with every passing second.

Our lips hover, barely touching. My thumb so close to her teeth. Ready to be taken.

To be turned.

To be a part of her.

DAY THIRTEEN

It recognises Howie. It knows who this man is. So many hosts have been cut down because of this man. Tens of thousands were sent against him to stop his needless culling but they failed. Darren was allowed to retain intelligence and still he failed. Everything the infection has done to take Howie has failed.

All over the world the infection mutates, evolves, turns and changes. With every passing day it accelerates in its understanding of the human mind, body and ultimately the brain; the muscle that is so incredibly powerful. More so than any other life form ever known.

The capabilities of the human brain are staggering. This species are barely out of infant steps in terms of what they would progress too. But that would take thousands of years and the infection doesn't have thousands of years.

All it has is now. Time does not exist to the infection. Time is a thing used by mankind as a measuring gauge against the history of their race and a way to divide the day and night into zones. The infection understands what time is. From the collective intelligence taken from the hosts it understands the concept of time, and then discounts it.

All that is. All that has been. All that ever will be.

Is now.

The infection knows without conscious thought, that there are many potential hosts left. It also knows that of those left, very few are the same as Howie. Only a handful of the potential hosts have his ability, but those few cause untold damage to the survivability of the infection.

The other survivors flock to them. They gather round them and fight back with such passion. They die for those few; laying down their lives in great numbers just so those few can stay alive.

As with time, the infection understands the concept of sacrifice. It sacrifices uncountable numbers of hosts to keep progressing.

But what the infection does not know, is what makes those few so different. Despite the billions of lives it has taken, it has yet to take one that has the ability of Howie.

There are men and women who are faster and stronger than those special few. Intelligence is not the factor as host bodies with incredible high levels of intelligence have been taken, but they lack what Howie and his type have.

All the infection knows is what happens when it sends the hosts against them. The hosts feel fear. No matter what chemicals are pumped through the host systems. Regardless of how violent or deranged it makes those hosts they still have fear.

Why?

What does Howie and his kind have that makes the hosts react like this? Where does that power come from?

It isn’t something born from gender or race. The infection knows that those few are men and women of all races.

Without being inside them, without examining the cell structure, the DNA, the gene pool, without surging through the brain it cannot comprehend why they are different.

Force failed, but now there is another way and one of those special few is about to be taken. No violence will be used. No damage will be inflicted on the body or brain, because it will be done willingly.

The infection grew in cunning and stealth, allowing Marcy to act as she wished with barely a hint of control. The infection had learnt what chemicals to pump into the host body to drive it faster and heighten their levels of aggression and violence. But there are other chemicals. Chemicals that work just as strong but in different ways.

Pheromones. The scent secreted by the body so subtly they are not noticed but the effect can be far stronger than anything else. The infection knows organisms such as Ants use trails of pheromones to communicate. Female animals produce scent when in season which drives the male animal crazy with lust.

Ultimately the human is just another animal, a far more complex being but still an animal. And the male of the species will react the same as the rest.

Howie and his group will be taken. Without injury. Without pain. They will be taken and examined.

Tonight.

One

Day Thirteen

Wednesday

My head spins with a dull ache that pounds through my skull. I can’t think straight. Words become meaningless. Lust so powerful I want to tear her clothes off right now.

My thumb in the corner of her mouth slides in. She licks the end, flicking her hot wet tongue over the end of my digit. Low groans escape from my throat as I start to swell. Her hand grips my thigh, kneading and rubbing, slowly getting higher.

So beautiful, so perfectly beautiful. She is the one for me. Above all else she is the one I have to be with. I’m drawn to her stronger than anything else in my entire life. Nothing in my head apart from right now and feeling her so close.

Our cheeks rub, gently she nuzzles and nips my ear lobe, sending electric currents rippling down my spine.

Never in my life have I felt so turned on. The charged hot air, the sultry night, waves gently lapping at the shore, moonlight framing her perfect face. Lips so full and ready to be kissed. The sweep of her neck, long and elegant. The shape of her slender shoulders. My hands move down her face, feeling the majesty of her body. Down her arms I brush my fingertips lightly. She shivers with pleasure, a low quavering sound that excites me.

My breathing increases, heart hammering in my chest. Mouth dry with desire. I push into her, a rough movement that takes her from the sitting to lying position. On top of her I let my hands run all over her body. Moaning she starts to writhe, wrapping her arms round my back to pull me in closer. Face to face and staring down, her legs open and I move into position. Still fully clothed but the pain of denial just increases the tension.

Grinding against each other, groins connected. If we were naked I would be inside her right now and I know that will happen. I want that to happen more than anything. To take her would be certain death but I don’t care. It doesn't matter. We’ll be together and that’s all that counts.

She grabs one of my hands and forces it to her breasts, pushing my grip so I knead and rub the soft mound. I start to lift her top, sliding my hand under the thin material of her t-shirt and pushing it up over her tanned stomach.

Arching her back she moans again as my hands touch her naked skin. She lifts slightly and helps me pull the top off. I drop down, our lips so close. We writhe and grind. Passion building with every passing second. We roll across the narrow beach, limbs entwining, hands grasping and holding each other. Her mouth finds my neck and starts kissing, licking and gently nipping. I am helpless. Unable to stop. The force of my lust is so incredible. I would kill to be with her. I would kill anything to be able to keep going.

April watches Cookey through half closed eyes. The heavy hoods hanging low as she watches the young man take a swig from his bottle of beer. Slowly she crosses the ground towards him, swaying her hips suggestively. He watches her closely, half drunk and full of lust. He takes in her form, watching the coy smile spread across her face. Never has he seen such a beautiful woman. Never before has someone so perfect shown an interest in him.

A dull ache pounds through his head, heart rate increasing. Flushing from intention he waits for her to get to him and wraps an arm round her waist, marvelling at her slender body and feeling the push of her breasts against his chest. She sways to the side, a slow dance starts. Legs become close, hips swing slowly. Groins pushing against each other. Everything else ceases to exist. Something about her is driving him wild with passion. His normally jovial face becomes serious, his cheeks flush, eyes narrowed and pupils dilated. She runs a hand up his arm, feeling the tight muscles across his shoulders. Gently raking her fingernails across the skin. He shivers with excitement, feeling himself grow. April feels it too and pushes harder against him.

Blowers and Nick watch the girls moving towards them. The most beautiful, devastatingly attractive women they have ever seen. The joking banter has ended. The atmosphere becomes charged with eroticism. The girls move slowly, swinging their hips, lips parting gently to lick at their full lips.

Both of them become flushed in the face. Not noticing as their breathing becomes faster. Eyes fixed on the women. Overwhelming lust building in both of them. The girls move slowly round the lads, draping hands across the defined chests of the young men. Fingers brush against buttocks. Nick and Blowers stand stock still. Letting themselves be touched by many hands.

Slender and voluptuous bodies move in close. Nick widens his stance, feeling the dull ache in his head as soft lips find his neck and start kissing gently. Another hand moves to his groin, rubbing as he grows.

Panting from the build-up of tension, Blowers feels the hands move across his wide shoulders and down to his narrow waist. Fingers running up the muscles of his stomach. The girls guide him away, gently drawing him from Nick. They coax and tease, touch and squeeze. He shakes his head at the fog descending. Something in him telling him this isn’t right. This shouldn’t be happening but powerless to stop it. They are so beautiful and so perfect. They want him. They all want him. Nothing can stop this happening.

Clarence sits with his back slumped against the wall, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Reggie was here a minute ago. Where did he go?

‘Reggie?’ Clarence bawls. He must have gone to get more booze. Yeah, that was it. But this bottle is still full. Clarence holds the bottle up to the soft flickering lights and looks at the level of liquid inside. Soon be gone so yeah, we need more booze.

That Reggie is a great bloke and funny. Clarence smiles broadly as he thinks fondly of his new friend.

‘Took your time,’ Clarence feels the body drop down next to him, turning to chastise Reggie for taking so long.

‘Oh…sorry…’ Clarence blanches at the beautiful young woman sitting next to him. He can’t help but look down at the cleavage presented on display. Grimacing from the ache starting in the back of his skull he widens his eyes and tries to focus. She smiles at him, perfectly even white teeth and she looks gentle and loving too. She tilts her head to one side with a sad look. That look says it all. She knows. She is a woman and she knows the pain in his heart from losing Chris. She can understand the way only a woman can. Sarah too. Howie’s sister so lovely and…

A thick tear rolls down his cheek. She reaches out and touches his shoulder. A caring gesture that he understands. She can give comfort where no other can. The huge warrior feels broken inside and at times like this it’s only that soft womanly, maternal love that can heal.

She shuffles in closer, moving her hand up to stroke his bald head. Another tear falls as he wraps a muscled arm round her waist drawing her closer. She comes willingly, letting him rest his big head on her chest as he cries. But being so close to her invokes a different response within him.

He senses his passion growing. Drunk and full of pain he looks up at the girl who moves to straddle his lap. She smiles softly. He blinks hard, feeling the fug coming over him. Lust builds. His hands move to her thighs, she rises gently from the touch, giving a low moan and letting him know the pleasure she feels.

Gently she shifts her weight on him, giving him space to grow. She feels the pressure beneath her and starts to move back and forth. Tiny movements that make him close his eyes. His cheeks become flushed, his breathing harder. Her hands reach up to feel his thick neck, rubbing her thumbs across his ears.

‘Good girl,’ Dave fills the bowl with water and steps back, watching as Meredith starts lapping at the cool liquid. He watches the dog drinking. Taking satisfaction from the simplicity of her; eat, drink and protect the pack. That’s it. No confusion. No strange ways that he cannot understand. Riddled comments that confuse him, things said or not said, hidden meanings that make him feel stupid and dumb.

Using his torch he inspects the wounds on her flanks, nodding at the clean cuts. Healing quickly but then dogs always do. They have to heal quickly or they would die in the wild. He knows she has a natural antiseptic in her saliva that will keep the wounds clear. With good food and clean water she’ll be back to normal in no time.

Both of them tense at the movement behind. The dog turning round to stare into the shadows. Dave watches with a deadpan expression as a female undead walks towards him. She is very pretty with long hair but she is walking weirdly, moving her hips more than she needs to. Her top is pulled down too, showing the tops of her breasts off.

She keeps coming, her eyes fixed on Dave. He doesn't speak, he has nothing to say. Meredith watches her with interest, her head cocked to one side as though confused at something.

Dave watches the woman. She smiles at him, a big broad grin. Dave tries smiling back but it doesn't work and he stops doing it, reverting to his usual expressionless face instead.

The woman slows as she gets close, moving gracefully over the last few feet. Dave detects no threat so stands his ground, content to see what she wants. She keeps smiling which is weird as Dave hasn’t done anything to make her smile. She stops within arms-reach and stands there, staring deep into his eyes.

Dave stares back. Wondering what it is she wants. He doesn't blink or move. She sighs deeply and stretches her neck up, showing how slender it is as she pushes her chest out. Dave looks down at the dog and shrugs. The dog keeps her head cocked and sniffs the air in front of the woman. A scent. A distinct scent coming from her.

Meredith takes a step forward, sniffing harder. That scent is like the one she has when blood comes from her. The scent used to attract the males. This woman wants to mate with the man. The scent becomes stronger but the man doesn't react. He just stares at the woman.

The dog watches as the woman moves her hands over the front of her, the outer layer she wears falls away showing her naked body underneath.

Meredith looks up at Dave. Dave looks down at Meredith. The scent becomes stronger. This isn’t right. The scent is wrong. The scent is too much. Meredith understands this without knowing.

Dave stares at the woman, wishing Mr Howie was here to ask this woman to get dressed. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Danger close.

Danger close.

Danger close.

Something bad.

One hand already grips the handle of the knife at his back. He stares at the woman. She steps closer and smiles again. Meredith growls and shows teeth. The growl gets louder, fiercer.

Dave gets it. Realisation hits him.

Danger close.

With one step he has passed the woman, letting the blade of his knife whisper across her neck, opening her jugular and hears the slump of her body as he starts running.

A decision must be made. Go for the lads or go for Mr Howie. The lads are closer and there are more of them. But Mr Howie must survive above all else. So it has to be Mr Howie.

A furry black Exocet missile launches past him as Meredith opens her stride, galloping flat out towards the rear of the fort.

Trusting his instinct, Dave veers off, heading towards the lads. Meredith will get to Mr Howie faster than he can.

As he runs he pulls both knives and holds them flat against his forearms, he takes a deep breath, deeper than normal and roars his loudest yet, ‘TO ARMS…AMBUSH….STAND TO…’

Dave bellowing from somewhere in the fort. I hear the words but I don’t care about anything other than Marcy being on top of me, straddling my lap. Sitting up she pulls her t-shirt off and unclasps her bra. I groan audibly at the sight of her breasts. My greedy hands already kneading and squeezing. She grinds into me, moaning and rubbing. Gripping the bottom of my top she starts tugging it free. I try to help and lift my upper body free of the ground. The top becomes free and is cast aside. Soft hands rub and feel across my chest and stomach.

Marcy stands and fumbles with frantic movements to undo her belt and button of her jeans. Pulling them down she yanks one leg free and lowers herself back down. The jeans still attached to her leg.

Lowering herself down her hands start working on my belt and trousers. I try to help but we get in each-others way. She growls at me, animalistic and guttural, telling me to let her do it. Her face is inches from mine. I lay back and watch as she sinks closer and closer, lifting her naked arse up to start tugging my trousers down.

Still we haven’t kissed. But we will. We will kiss as I enter her. That almighty pleasure will be doubled by the sense of both intimate acts happening at once.

Her hand grips my erection as she starts lowering herself down. Her mouth coming closer and closer, inch by inch. Lips parting, tongue flicking out. The tension is so powerful. A dull roar behind my ears.  I feel aggressive and angry. I want her now. No more fucking about and teasing.

‘Do it,’ I growl at her. She grips harder, squeezing me as she guides my member. Must be close now, so close. Her lips are right by mine. This is it. I want this woman more than anything.

Closing my eyes I feel an explosive shock as we are both ripped clean from the ground and tumbled over the edge into the water. The cold shocking my system, making me gasp and thrash about.

Water sucked into my lungs. Panic sets in as I start to try and retch the salty liquid out. Kicking out I break the surface. Hampered by my trousers round my ankles. Pumping my arms as instinct takes over. A stubborn refusal to die. Breaking the surface I try to take air in, and feel the water surging up from my stomach

My vision is blurred, hearing gone as I retch and lash out. Sinking back under I kick again and break the surface. Stretching out, I feel the bank and start trying to grip it. Sliding off but I kick and get closer, using both hands to grip and start levering myself up. Puking sea water as I clumsily get my upper body out and start rolling across the bank, retching over and again. Eyes burning as the water ejects from my stomach and lungs. Coughing, gasping for breath. Something hot touches my face, lashing out I feel the wet fur of Meredith as she licks at my cheeks and eyes. I try to push her away but she gets her head under mine and pushes up.

‘What?’ I gasp, my throat burns from acid. My head pounding with pain. She barks at me, a high pitched yelp that keeps coming.

Staggering to my feet I get to the edge and look out. The water is still again now, barely a ripple on the surface.

What happened? The lust has gone. Instantly gone. What the fuck was I doing? I was about the have sex with her. Did I enter her? I shake my head trying to remember. A thick cloudy fog in my head. The whole thing like a dream. Did I kiss her? No, no I didn’t. I was about to though. I was about to penetrate and kiss her.

The dog. Looking down she spins round barking at me, running back and forth to the gate. Where’s Marcy? We both went into the water…

‘STAND TO…AMBUSH…’ Dave’s voice roars across the night air snapping my senses back.

‘Shit,’ I try to move across the beach to reach my assault rifle and trip from my trousers still wrapped round my ankles. Cursing foully I pull them up, no time for boots or a top. Assault rifle in hand I make towards the gate. Meredith gives one last bark and shoots off, bounding through and into the fort.

Is Marcy dead? Did Meredith kill her? Maybe she drowned. Either way with her gone the hold she had over the others will be finished.

A thousand undead rising up and the lads are drunk.

Not good.

Two

She stands at the end of the street waiting for night to fall. Ahead of her is the long wide road stretching off into the distance. High walls on both sides. Behind her is another high solid wall with a single door wedged open.

She sips from a bottle of water, forcing herself to keep drinking. The heat is intense. It would be energy sapping but she hasn’t allowed that to happen. She’s worked all day getting this ready and defied the heat, refusing to succumb to the humidity. Drinking sugary drinks, taking water on and eating whenever she could.

And now it’s ready. They’ll come for her soon. The same as the last few nights. They’ll gather whatever numbers they have left and come for her. They’ll see her stood at the end of the road and think they’ve got her trapped. A single gate leading into the building behind her. No other way out.

A smile twitches at the corners of her mouth but the eyes are humourless.

So much has changed in just eleven days. That’s all it is; eleven days since it began. It feels like a lifetime ago. She was a different person then.

The last tendrils of light fade from the surface of the road, bathing the area into deep shadows. Won’t be long now.

She can feel the drying sweat on her skin, pulling it tight. Too much sugar today, too much crap food too. She drops down to open a rucksack, pulling out a toothbrush and toothpaste held in a clear plastic bag. After wetting the end of the brush from her bottle she applies a thick tube of paste and starts brushing her teeth. Relishing the instant clean taste.

She stops, holding her head to one side, listening intently before shrugging and carrying on. Working the brush into her mouth, scrubbing her teeth thoroughly. She spits the remnants of the saliva mixed paste onto the street. Taking a gulp of water she swills it round before jetting that out too.

The toothbrush and paste go back into the plastic bag. From the rucksack she takes her last clean top. Laying it on the bag she strips her filthy pale blue t shirt off and unclasps her bra to crouch topless in the darkening street.

Using wet wipes and water she scrubs at her body. Removing the stale odour of sweat from under her arms. Working methodically she pulls the bra back on takes a can of deodorant from the bag. She smiles at the colourful pattern on the front of the can. Remembering her previous life that was surrounded by things like this. She sprays each armpit, sniffing at the pleasant smell from the can. She knows they’ll be able to smell her. She hopes they do, it’ll make them charge harder.

She listens for a second, opening her mouth and staying perfectly still. Nothing. She stands up and unclasps the belt from her black cargo trousers, unfastens the button and pulls them down. Again using the wet wipes, she cleans herself, wiping sweat away from the creases of her body. With her trousers and knickers down she hobbles forward a few steps, squats down and pisses on the road, knowing she has to go now because there won’t be time later, and no way she’s going to piss herself. Not after the last time; that stank and caused a rash.

Finished, she wipes clean and dresses.

The last thing she does is pull her hair free from the tight bands, shaking it loose and running her fingers through the long brown locks. A hairbrush from the bag and she works the knots and tangles out, grimacing at the pull. She sweeps it back, re-fastening the tight bands to secure the locks into a bun, tight against her head.

The bag is re-packed and sealed. Finally she stands up, stretching the tight muscles in her legs. They feel taut and strong. Far stronger than ever before. Despite the tiredness and fatigue, she feels strong and fit, lithe and capable.

She checks the knives are still there, both of them attached to her belt, one on either hip, handles ready to be pulled. The pistol comes next, drawing it out, ejecting the magazine, checking the rounds. The top is pulled back, the first bullet engaged. The pistol is pushed back into the holster and made ready. She checks the straps on the black sub machine gun, ensuring they’re fixed securely, the magazine is full and the safety is on. She props the MP5 police issue single shot weapon next to her bag then checks her pockets for the spare ammunition clips.

That’s it. She’s ready. All done.

Seconds go by. Minutes tick along. She taps her foot, pursing her mouth then checking her nails, wincing at the dirt under them.

Full night now. No doubt about it. Not dusk or evening, but proper night.

So where are they? They must be far off if she hasn’t heard the howling by now. Not a single howl. Unless they’ve changed tactic and decided not to howl anymore. It’s possible. They seem to be getting weirder every day. Moving fast in the day, working together, and the last few nights she’s definitely noticed an increase in aggression.

‘Come on,’ she mutters, checking her watch. Listening intently, still nothing.

Sighing she drops back down and pulls a tube of Pringles from the side of her bag. She flips the lid off and grabs one out. Crunching it noisily. Sour cream, she shrugs. She would have preferred barbeque but those were eaten yesterday.

She crunches away. Pausing every now and then mid bite as she listens. Rolling her eyes before carrying on.

‘Just brushed my teeth too,’ she tuts. She grows fed up with the Pringles and puts them back, Once more using the water to swill her mouth out.

She checks her watch again, huffing with impatience. She hates tardiness. A sure sign of a general lack of respect and a poor work ethic. No wonder they’re losing every night if they can’t even be bothered to turn up on time.

A far off howl. A faint sound carrying on the warm still air. She looks up, smiling with satisfaction. She pulls the bag on, adjusting the straps and securing the waist band. She jump tests on the spot, checking everything is secure.

Yep.

This is it.

A glint in her eye from another far off howl. Wolves circling in the urban forest. She doesn't feel scared. She feels excited.

More howls. Louder. Closer. They’re coming. Loads of them too judging by the noise. She detects the sound of drumming, of feet pounding the ground. Distinct in the quietness but still out of sight.

She nods with respect, hearing them but not seeing them means they’ve brought a lot. Good, it’s about time they took her seriously. She’s killed enough of them to earn it.

She shrugs at her own thoughts. At least this promotion to being taken seriously is quicker than the last one. Oh wait…yes that’s right, the last one never came did it. No, she wasn’t promoted but left on the office floor.

Still, where are they all now? Dead, that’s where. Dead or quite possibly in that giant horde that’s going to charge into view any second. Either way they are not here. But she is. Alive and doing rather well, even if she does say so herself.

Self-respect should be given. It’s as important to know when you’ve done a good job as it is to identify areas of improvement. Yes, she can feel good about this. After all, that giant horde are coming for her, not anyone else. So that means she’s pissed them off enough to get their full attention.

And if she can kill this lot too, then maybe they’ll take her even more seriously. No, not if…the outcome is certain. She will survive. She will kill them.

Seven P’s. The effort has been taken, the time invested, the work completed so there is no reason why it shouldn’t work. Seven P’s.

‘Proper pre-planning prevents piss poor performance,’ she recites to herself, smiling at the memory of the office manager who would say at least once every day.

And that idiot Clarke who tried to copy him. Her mood plummets at the memory of Clarke. The first death she saw. Eleven days ago, when she was a different person.

Three

‘Are you sure you can’t come?’

‘I’d love to but I’ve got to get this done.’

‘Oh come on! It’s a beautiful summer evening and the place is crawling with wealthy men.’

‘Don’t tempt me…I would like nothing better than being there but I can’t, I just can’t.’

‘Well what’s so important that it keeps you in the office on a Friday night?’

‘Contract for a new client…’

‘Stuff the new client! Do it Monday.’

‘It’s got to be ready by Monday.’

‘When did they give it to you?’

‘Today at four-thirty.’

‘Bastards…there’s no way you could get that done in time…’

‘Unless I stay on and work…Yes I know but look, this client is a big fish so if I get this done properly then…’

‘Then what? Then you can spend more time at work and be even busier than you are now!’ Just go in on Sunday and do it…come here and help me find a rich man, you should find one too then tell that firm to piss off…’

‘I don’t need a rich man, if I want something I’ll do it myself, I’m not going to be some trophy wife to be shown off at the golf club every Sunday…’

‘Yeah yeah…heard it all before….boring! I’m going to mingle and find me a hedge banker.’

‘You mean a hedge fund…’

‘Who cares! Stop being a boring accountant…As long as he’s rich he can do what he wants with his hedges, call me.’

‘I will, have fun.’

‘You too!’

Paula takes the mobile phone away from her ear and presses the red button, ending the call. Friday night and here she is, doing a contract for another new big fish client. How many Friday’s was this now? Too many. Far too many, and while everyone else was out enjoying themselves she was here, putting the hours in.

She grimaces at the cold bitter coffee sipped from her mug. The plain white mug that sat on her plain desk.

If a woman wants to succeed in a man’s world she has to think like a man. Do not be seen as the soft maternal figure in the office and that means clearing your desk of all the photographs and items of sentiment. Work is a place for work. The desk is not an extension of your social life. If you want to be taken seriously then look serious.

Right now she could seriously murder that woman. She’d paid for the Workplace Empowerment course herself, and used her own annual leave to attend. The self-righteous tutor made it clear how she felt women should promote themselves. Not by slinky outfits and putting up with the arse slapping, but by hard work and a ruthless determination. Don’t make the tea, don’t tidy everyone else’s desks, don’t listen to poor old Donald talking about the problems with his wife, work. Work and work hard and be utterly ruthless.

Paula looked down at her pencil skirt, the perfect length of being just below the knee. The plain white shirt made her feel harsh but she also knew it made her look professional. No necklaces or heavy make-up, subtle earrings and her long brown hair was tied back and fixed up.

She knew she looked the part. She also knew she was highly capable with the highest work-rate in the office. Her clients were all more than satisfied with her performance and month on month she was well above target.

So why was she the only left in the office on a Friday night? Why were all the other staff, all the male staff, out having fun and doing whatever normal people do on Friday nights? That was it. She wasn’t male. She lacked the necessary appendage between her legs and didn’t play golf or squash. Maybe that was what she should do; start playing golf and squash. But no, that would just give them idea’s and it was hard enough getting them to keep their bloody hands to themselves as it was without turning up at the local sports club and getting sweaty with them.

She noticed the photocopier and stationary cabinet had been moved to the far end of the office after just a month of working here. It was placed in the very centre of the far wall; in full view of the entire office and it was amazing how often it ran out of paper, meaning she would have to bend down and open a new box, remove the protective paper before re-filling the drawers. Knowing full well that over a dozen men were staring straight at her backside. The silence that came over the office floor whenever she did it gave it away, then the sniggers that always followed.

Funny but they never did it when Dominic was here. The regional manager worked from another office but he came in several times during the week. Tall with dark hair and a serious face but he was different to them and spoke to her like she was a person and always took the time to check she was okay. The office staff never did anything when Dominic was around but she also knew that to survive in the office she shouldn’t rely on other men to save her.

It was a fine line between becoming ultra-feminist and challenging every bloke who even glanced at her chest or letting everything go and being seen as a soft touch that would just put up with it.

She’d learnt various tricks, like asking if there was something stuck to the front of her shirt when they kept staring, and making a point of politely asking what they were staring at, always with a smile of course. Then she’d learnt how to crouch down when filling the photocopier instead of bending over. Turn slightly sideways, legs together and reduce any kind of sexual profile they might have.

Her perfume was always carefully chosen as she knew they loved to use her scent as an excuse to lean in too close. So it was subtle and sparingly applied.

The raucous banter was mostly ignored and never joined in with. Normal office jokes were one thing but when it came to the sexual comments she simply moved away and carried on working. Of course she could always take it to the office manager or even Dominic. They’d deal with it, they’d have to, but that would be her finished and destined to a career on the main floor.

She looks over at the side offices, at the row of doors that marked the boundary from the main office to those private areas used by the Account Managers. That was her first goal. Become an Account Manager.

She should have got the last position that came up but it was given to Tim instead. Nice man and competent enough but his figures and targets were nowhere near hers.

You need more experience. Maybe next time.

So here she was. Friday night and she was getting that experience now. She could feel the unfairness of it starting to niggle her but she had to channel it, make it work for her. Once she was an Account Manager she would then be in charge of the office and things would be different. The photocopier would go back to where it was for a start.

Damn it was hot. The air conditioning was automatically switched off at five-thirty and with no air flow it soon warmed up.

She’d already undone the two top buttons of her shirt and now she reached for the next one, knowing that this button would expose some cleavage. But then she was the only one here so she was safe, safe to show some skin without being stared at.

That felt better, she wafted the shirt away from her body, feeling the flow of air circulate down the sleeves. She longed to release her hair from the tight bun but even though the office was empty it somehow felt wrong, that she should maintain that professional image.

She worked on, writing the contract manually. Importing the sections that applied to every client and working out the specialised terms as agreed. Everything was checked, then checked again and then checked more. To make a mistake would be awful. The office manager wouldn’t hesitate to walk through the main office and inform her of what had been done wrong.

It wasn’t that Paula minded being corrected, she knew that learning from mistakes was an integral part of self-development. It was when he walked through the main office and told her in front of everyone else, that was the bit she didn’t like, especially when the room went silent and she knew they were all listening.

‘Section one, parties to this agreement…’ Paula paces the main floor holding the completed contract in her hand while reading it aloud, something she’d learnt from a writer friend who said he always read his stuff out loud.

With another button undone and her hair now pulled free from the bun she kicks her shoes off and feels the pleasure of her feet being free. The heat was awful, oppressive even.

‘The client in order to properly conduct its business…’ she went on. Feeling the hard worn carpet under her feet as she moved between the desks.

‘…during the length of this contract, the accountant shall serve the client and perform any and all services,’ she passes her desk and grabs her coffee mug, grimacing again at the cold contents. She drinks it anyway, knowing the caffeine will keep her going.

She slips into a broad Scottish accent as she reads the next section, mimicking the tones of Bill who normally occupies the desk next to her, ‘och aye…I dunnae know mooch aboot ya businezz but ah dooo know aboot numbers,’ she rolls her eyes at the speech he gives every client on the phone. She had no Ill-feeling towards the Scottish, just Bill. The way he made the accent stronger on the phone so he appeared more “real” as he put it.

‘Och my wee lassie, why dunnae you fill up the photocopier and give us a wee flash o’ya arse.’ She tuts with distaste and walks on, reciting the sections and sub-sections.

At the photocopier she rests the sheaf of papers on the top and glances back to the empty room before dramatically bending over to the bottom draw. Wiggling her arse that pokes out behind her she turns and presses one finger to her mouth, giving the imaginary work-force a nice show.

‘I’m going mad,’ she mutters to herself as she takes the contract up, about turns and starts heading back down.

Loud banging stops her mid-stride. She cranes her neck to listen. There it is again, a solid banging noise.

She drops the contract on her desk and heads back down the office into the hallway. She listens at the top of the stairs, waiting until she hears the banging noise again.

At the top floor of a four storey office block she knows the noise must be coming from downstairs. She starts to descend, using the moonlight shining through the large windows to guide her way.

Past the third floor architects offices, then past the financial advisors second floor and onto the first floor where the communal meeting and conference rooms were held.

The banging gets louder as she drops down. Firm and sustained. She heads towards the secure front door, seeing the silhouette through the frosted security glass.

‘Who is it?’ She calls out. The office was close to the town centre and on a Friday night she was always worried about passing drunks and teenage revellers.

‘Paula?’ A familiar voice calls. She smiles and opens the door, grinning at the young man stood there holding the pizza box. ‘Working late again then?’ He smiles, passing the warm box over.

‘Yep,’ she takes the box and slips the bank note from the top pocket of her shirt, ‘Friday night pizza in the office…my favourite,’ she jokes.

‘You’re here every Friday,’ the lad comments, ‘you must be earning a fortune.’

‘You’d think so wouldn’t you,’ she replies with a roll of her eyes, ‘trust me, I’m not.’ She looks past him to the battered red coloured motor-scooter propped up with the engine noisily ticking over, the white top box still open with more pizza boxes inside.

‘Ha, gotta be better than my job,’ he grins, ‘that thing’s a bloody death-trap, indicators packed up last week and he still ain’t got ‘em fixed.’

‘Ooh, well you be careful,’ she says as he sorts her change out, ‘just give me a fiver back,’ she adds quickly as he fumbles with the coins.

‘You sure? Thanks Paula,’ he face splits apart from the enormous grin. She might not earn much but it was a lot better than he made, so a few quid tip was deserved, and besides, he always made sure the food was delivered quick while it was still hot.

‘See you next week,’ she smiles.

‘You should get out more,’ he replies pulling his crash helmet on.

‘I will…one day,’ she closes the door, shaking her head that life has got so bad she’s taking social advice from a pizza delivery kid.

She stares at the lift, then at the pizza box and sighs. Trudging up the dark steps she wishes she had more time for the gym, these stairs were about the only exercise she got these days, and this pizza isn’t going to help. Still, it is Friday and she would never dream of eating food like this in front of the other staff. Their greedy dirty nose-picking fingers would be straight in the box.

Back in the office she leaves the box on her desk, takes a thick slice of the pizza and once more resumes her pacing, taking care to hold the coveted contract away from the slice for fear of getting greasy melted cheese on it.

The shame of it was that Paula knew that by the time she’d walked to the end of the room, paused and walked back the first slice would be gone, enabling her to scoop the second slice on the way past.

She examines the contract, trying to read the sections with mouthfuls of pizza. Step, step, turn, pause, step and step, grab slice and keep going. Work, exercise and dinner all rolled into one.

On the third slice she pauses, standing slumped and wondering what Karen was doing right now. Probably outside a lovely wine-bar, cold drink in hand and laughing. Oh laughing. She missed laughing. She could do without the men, that sacrifice had been made over a year ago, she could do without the social life but the laughing. She missed that more than anything.

She stares at the greasy pizza in her hand, the slice hanging limp and looking distinctly unappetising. Then round at the office, at all the other desks covered with pictures of wives, girlfriends, children, football mementoes. She compares her sterile desk, functional and bland. Her eyes track across the room to the account managers offices. Getting there will take a long time, and even when she gains it that’s still only the first rung in the very long corporate ladder.

It didn’t seem worth it. A sudden realisation that she was missing out on life. Even the pizza guy knew her first name, that’s how bad things had become. There had to be more to it than this. All those hours, all that time staying on and working extra, none of the guys did it; they concentrated more on getting on with each other than getting work done.

That was it. Sod this. It couldn’t be a test because she’d stayed on every Friday for as long as she could remember and there were people in the office newer than her that weren’t being asked to stay on.

No. This wasn’t on. She being taken advantage of and she knew it. At the desk she dumps the pizza slice back into the box and picks her mobile phone up.

This was discrimination. It wasn’t just about having your arse slapped or the blokes staring at your chest. Singling her out to constantly do the extra hours; that was discrimination. First thing Monday she will make an appointment to speak with Dominic and ask to be moved to another office, and sod the contract, let the manager explain to Dominic why it wasn’t done, right after she’s had her appointment with him.

She thumbs the screen of her phone to life, selects Karen from the contacts and pushes the green call button. Smiling she pushes the phone to her ear as she commences tidying her desk.

Tutting she pulls the phone away at the sound of the constant beeping sound, ends the call and tries again. Modern phones, too full of software and she knew this happened sometimes. She waits for the call to connect, frowning at the beeping noise when it comes again.

This time she looks at the screen, signal bar is full. She tries again and carries on pushing the sheets of the contract back together.

‘Come on Karen,’ she tuts again at the beeping noise. Why wasn’t it going to answer-phone? Must be a mast down.

Sod it, she knows where Karen is and will grab a taxi from the minicab office down the road. She smiles for the first time in days as a feeling of naughtiness comes over her. Bunking off and ditching the work to go and do something fun.

Shoes on and she grabs her bag, pulling the strap over her shoulder as she picks the pizza box up and heads towards the door. She fumbles for the light switch and starts heading down the stairwell with a definite bounce in her step.

On the last flight down she pauses, hearing the beeping sound of the numbered key pad at the main door. Who would be coming here? It was unheard of for any of the other floors to have people working late. Unless it was the manager coming to check on her. A sudden feeling of guilt floods through her body, cursing that she’ll be caught skipping out before the work is done. Then she remembers her earlier thought process and stiffens her resolve. If it is the manager she’ll tell him straight and honest.

The door comes into view as she reaches the ground floor. The distinctive longer beep of the reset button being pressed, which is only done when someone gets the combination wrong. The sound of the reset button makes her pause again.

Who is that? Maybe she needs to wait before she goes out there. Could be a drunk or someone trying to break in.

Keeping to the shadows she tiptoes towards the door, watching the silhouetted figure through the glass, she holds her breath and stares with wide eyes at the longer beep emitted from the correct entry code being entered.

The front door bursts open, a violent jarring action followed by a gasping figure stumbling through. The figure grabs at the door and slams it shut, using both hands in an almost over exaggerated motion to force it closed. As the locks clicks home the figure sags against the door. Deep ragged breaths coming fast and shallow with low murmurs.

Paula stays quiet, not recognising the person and feeling a sense of fear at revealing her position stood a few feet back in the deep shadows.

Another sound reaches, something else above the noise of the course breathing of the figure. Something getting closer, running. That was it, the distinct sound of footsteps, of flat soled shoes slapping against the concrete surface of the car park outside.

‘No,’ the figure whispers and jumps back from the door as something impacts from the outside.  A deep thud that vibrates against the frame making Paula jolt with fright and drop the pizza box. A shadowy form presses against the glass. Arms outstretched as it clings to the door, a low groaning sound that builds to a throaty growl as the figure inside starts back-stepping.

The person inside is male, big and tall with short hair. That much is obvious as he fumbles through his pockets with shaky hands. He pulls his mobile out and activates the screen, frantically pressing buttons.

‘Clarke?’ The name comes out of her mouth before she can stop it, the light from the screen illuminating the man’s face. He yelps and spins round, dropping the phone and backing away towards the door.

‘Who is that?’ He asks in a terrified voice.

‘Clarke…it’s Paula,’ she answers quickly at hearing his tone, ‘what’s happened?’

‘Paula? Oh fuck…I…shit, oh my god,’ his hands clutch at his head, pushing his hair back as he stammers in panic.

‘Clarke what is it? What’s happened? Who is that outside?’

‘Call the police…do it…quickly,’ he hisses. Still holding her phone she slides her thumb and looks at the numbered keypad.

‘Okay…what’s happened?’

‘Just call the fucking police,’ he whispers hoarsely.

‘Clarke, they’ll need to know why I’m calling…shit, hang on something wrong with my phone…where’s yours?’

‘Oh fuck…what…what’s wrong with it?’

‘Won’t connect, it did it a minute ago…must be a mast down or something, what network are you on?’

‘Oh god…’ he rushes down the hall, pushing past her and into the main conference room. Paula follows, watching his shadowy form as he crosses to the big round table and grabs the receiver from the landline. ‘Come on…come on,’ he whispers with impatience as he pushes the buttons on the set, ‘oh fuck…no…please no.’ He pushes the lever down to end the call, then tries again, cursing with increased fear.

‘Clarke? What the hell is going on?’ Paula asks from the doorway. She tries her phone again, dialling three nines and listening to the beep coming back from the speaker.

‘The fucking phones are all down,’ he slams the handset down and moves to the end of the room, grabbing the second set and trying again, ‘oh shit…this isn’t happening…’

‘Clarke! What isn’t happening?’ Paula asks again.

He slams the receiver down and again pushes past her, heading further down the hall to the staff lounge at the end. He pushes the door open and fumbles round for the television remote control, pressing it firmly while he points it at the flat screen mounted to the wall.

‘Clarke…what is going on?’ Paula demands.

‘Outside,’ Clarke barely looks at her, ‘outside…everyone is going fucking nuts…like attacking each other…’

‘What? Like a fight?’

‘No!...Yes…not a fight but…’ his voice trails off as the screen comes to life. The room fills with the sound of a news reporter speaking directly to the camera. Paula moves closer, drawn by the sound of the anchors voice.

‘…Once again we have lost all contact with our reporters, the satellite feeds are down and it appears both landlines and mobile phones are now in-active. We do not even know for sure if we are still broadcasting….’

‘What’s he going on about?’ Paula stares at the screen, looking the news anchor, at his tie pulled down from his neck, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, sleeves rolled up and a coffee mug on the desk. Even his hair was sticking up a bit.

‘…There has been no update from the government, we are not aware of the military mobilising…the only advice we can offer is that you stay in your homes and away from public places, don’t answer your door to anyone and do not go outside under any circumstances…’

‘Clarke…what is this?’ Paula demands, ‘why is he saying that? Clarke!’

‘Ssshh,’ he responds abruptly, eyes fixed on the screen.

‘…we know the event started in Europe with outbreaks of violence that have spread across every town and city within a matter of hours. London is exploding in violence that we have never seen before. Bodies litter the streets, the police ceased functioning hours ago, murder after murder is being reported…stay in your homes.’

‘Murder? What like riots? Are there riots going on?’ Paula shakes her head, confused and feeling that she’s missing something.

‘No,’ Clarke whispers.

‘...I cannot believe I am saying this,’ the news anchor shakes his patriarchal head, ‘but all we know are the facts as reported to us…people are biting each other, those persons who are bit then appear to die or become unresponsive within a very short space of time, those victims then re-animate and commence trying to bite more people…’

‘What the fuck did he just say?’ Paula spits, she stares at Clarke, refusing to believe what she just heard.

‘…do not let anyone with blood on them near you, friends, associates, even family members…if they do not respond in a normal way then get away from them as fast as possible and take all measures to stay away…’

‘Oh,’ Paula shakes her head as a slow smile forms, ‘you bastard,’ she chuckles, ‘you knew I was working late…nicely done Clarke…’

‘What?’ He looks at her with a puzzled expression

‘Running in here like this, oh no the zombies have risen,’ she waves her free hand about jokingly, ‘no offence but I’ve had a long day and I’m going…’

‘This isn’t a fucking joke,’ Clarke shouts, ‘what…how the hell….you think this is a joke?’

She shakes her head again, rubbing her forehead with the edge of her phone and sighing, ‘look Clarke, this isn’t funny okay…I’m tired and I’m going home.’

‘He’s a fucking news reporter,’ Clarke shouts, ‘how the hell would I make this up? Look…’ He switches channel to show the standard technical error message displayed across the screen when broadcasting is interrupted. ‘See…’ He flicks again, showing more technical error messages, then more with just blank screens, then another news channel with the camera facing an empty chair behind an equally empty desk. That channel cuts out as they watch, the screen simply going black.

Clarke operates the remote control, navigating back to the original news channel. The screen activates just in time to see the anchor removing his microphone and throwing it on the floor before walking off.

‘It’s everywhere…I saw it…I saw what he just said, they’re eating each other,’ the words spill from Clarke, rambling and fast.

‘What? Hang on,’ Paula waves her phone at him.

‘Fucking eating each other…oh my god,’ Clarke pushes his hands through his hair again, ‘the whole town just went fucking crazy…people dying and…and…then…oh fuck they chased me here…’

‘Clarke just slow down, something chased you here?’

He nods, his head illuminated by the screen of the television.

‘Who chased you?’ Paula asks, still trying to comprehend what was going on.

‘Ssshh, they’ll hear us,’ Clarke whispers.

‘Who will?’ Paula whispers back, ‘who will hear us? Who is outside?’

‘Not here,’ Clarke pushes past her again, walking into the dark hallway where he stops and stares at the front door, he waves his hand back at Paula, motioning for her to be quiet before he starts easing himself onto the stairs and climbing up gently.

Paula follows, walking into the hall and looking down at the front door. Several distinct shapes move around outside. Figures blurred by the opaque glass but clearly distinct human form. Fear builds inside her, coupled with confusion and a feeling that she’s missed something vital, like trying to watch a movie after missing the first half hour.

At the top of the stairs, Clarke heads into their offices and heads straight for the water cooler, grabbing a paper cup and filling before downing the liquid quickly.

‘Don’t turn the lights on,’ he whispers as Paula walks in.

She stops with her hand stretched towards the row of switches, staring at his shadowy bulk as he takes another drink.

‘Who are those people outside?’ Paula asks after giving him a chance to drink. He’s still breathing hard but that could also be from the exertion of the stairs and having to carry his fat gut up four flights. In his early forties, Clarke was one of the longest serving main office accountants with the firm, and also one of the sleaziest. Paula knew it was him that arranged for the photocopier to be moved and his desk was one of the closest to the front. He was also the one that reduced her spray of perfume as he was always leaning in to get a whiff as he called it. Yeah right, get a whiff while trying to stick your tongue in my ear and look down my top.

‘They’re not people,’ Clarke replies dramatically, he glances back at her and breathes out. A long unhealthy sound that wheezes from his chest.

‘Okay,’ Paula says slowly, ‘then what are they?’

‘Ha, what are they she asks,’ Clarke shakes his head, giving a humourless chuckle, ‘you been in here all night?’

‘Yes Clarke…you know I have, I was given the new contract to do…’

‘Lucky you,’ he cuts her words off, ‘safe and secure in here.’

‘Clarke please…please tell me what’s going on, what did he mean about people biting and dying or…’

‘Exactly what he said…’

‘Clarke!’ She snaps and takes a breath, ‘please…just tell me what you saw happening outside and who was chasing you?’

‘You wanna know?’ He asks in the same dramatic way, ‘okay…we were sat in the pub having a few drinks, this bloke runs in covered in blood and collapses on the floor. Everyone screams and we all rush over to help him…someone starts doing CPR as he stops breathing then he jumps up and bites the woman doing mouth to mouth…’

‘Oh my god.’

‘You wanted to hear it,’ he says in a surly tone, ‘so yeah this bird gets bitten and she runs off, her husband or boyfriend or whatever, well he punches the bloke in the face but the bloke just jumps on him and starts biting him too,’ Clarke reels it off quickly, like it’s a chore to explain, ‘and it just went off, birds screaming and this bloke biting everyone…we all tried getting away and got outside but it was worse out there…’

‘Worse? How?’

‘Let me explain then,’ he snaps, rolling his eyes, ‘everyone was going nuts, like blokes biting birds and birds doing it to other birds…whole street was going…Jason got bit.’

‘Jason? You mean our Jason?’ Paula looks over at Jason’s desk, thinking of the quietly spoken man.

‘Yeah,’ Clarke nods, ‘on his cheek, tore a bloody great chunk away…We tried running but Jason went down after a couple of minutes, he was like rolling about holding his stomach and screaming…I told him to shut up cos he was making so much noise and people were running towards us, then he went quiet like he was unconscious.’

‘What did you do?’ Paula asks in horror, staring wide eyed.

‘Fucking legged it, what’d’ya think I did? I tried hiding but then Jason got up and he was coming after me with some others…he had blood all over his face…some fella came out of his house and shouted for them to shut up and Jason just went for him…like attacked him and was biting him, they were all biting him…’

‘Jesus Clarke,’ Paula gasps.

He shrugs, shaking his head again, ‘so I ran…but then they came after me again and I got to here, figured I could get in before they saw where I went but I couldn’t get the fucking code in quick enough.’

‘Oh my god,’ Paula slumps against the edge of a desk, still holding her pizza box and phone.

‘Kept trying to phone triple nine but it didn’t work, just wouldn’t connect…but that bloke on telly said all the phones were down.’

‘Try these,’ Paula shifts round to dump her pizza box and grab the phone receiver, she lifts it to her ear expecting to hear the normal solid tone. Instead a constant interrupted bleep come back. She dials nine for an outside line then keys nine three times. Nothing, just the same incessant bleep.

Activating her phone she opens her contact list and starts to dial the number for her friend, nothing happens, just the bleeping noise. She tries her mobile, pressing the call symbol next to names from her contact list. She watches each one as it tries to connect then cuts off.

Opening a text box she keys in call me and sends it out to everyone on her contact list. She navigates back to the messages and watches as each one is headed by the word sending.

‘Anything?’ Clarke asks after finishing his third cup of water.

‘No, signal bar is gone now…landline isn’t working either.’

‘Told ya,’ his tone snaps her head up, almost like he’s glad to be proved right. In the hot confines of the office she can smell the beer and tobacco coming from his breath and clothes. The same office clothes he wore at work today. He must have gone straight to the pub and sat there drinking for hours.

‘I need to think,’ Paula replaces the handset and stares down at the desk.

‘About what? We’re fucked love,’ Clarke replies with a belch.

‘We can go out the back, the fire exit…’

He shakes his head again, wobbling his double chin, ‘no chance…those things are everywhere and they’re fast as fuck too.’

Fast for you with your fat gut, Paula thinks quickly. She crosses to the window at the end of the room and tries looking down. Tutting in frustration at the sealed frame and being unable to open one of them. Grabbing an office chair she wheels it over and clambers up, gaining height to look down.

The car park below is dark, with just a few street lights casting soft orange glows and making the shadows deeper and darker. Her eyes fix on a huddled mass by the edge, just on the cusp of the shadows. It looks like a pile of rubbish has been dumped there. A solid back mass of something.

Paula’s heart rate ramps up as the mass starts moving. Human figures standing up and moving away, shuffling and staggering on stiff legs. Several get up and break off leaving the distinct shape of a person lying with their arms and legs splayed out.

Her breathing comes hard as she watches the figures start heading across towards the building. More come into view, crossing into the pools of lights as they too head shuffle towards the building.

Movement catches her eye. The body that was lying down sits up. A clear movement even from this distance. It slowly gets to its feet and stands swaying for a second before staggering out of sight as it follows the others.

She drops down and slumps in the chair, trying to make sense of what she just saw. Looking up she spots Clarke stood at the front next to the open pizza box. A half-eaten slice in his hand being stuffed into his mouth.

‘How can you eat now?’ She asks as she pulls her seat out from her desk.

‘Cos I’m pissed, that’s why,’ he answers with a mouthful, ‘what you doing?’

‘Checking online.’

‘Yeah great…email the police and tell ‘em where we are, they won’t do anything anyway the lazy fuckers.’

Ignoring the caustic comment, Paula presses the screen to life and adjusts her keyboard. An unconscious act done every time she sits down. Pull it back, then push it forward. Using the mouse she double clicks to access the internet, going straight to the accountancy firm homepage. Paula keys in Google and waits for the search screen to come up, tutting when she gets a message saying the network is not currently connected. She checks the internet access signal bar at the bottom right and finds it empty.

‘Internet’s down,’ she informs Clarke.

‘No it’s not,’ he swallows the mouthful of food, ‘internet can’t go down, it’s like a worldwide thing…the phones are down so the internet isn’t working.’

‘Either way it’s not working,’ she adds, ‘what do we do?’

‘Do?’ He laughs, spraying food over the desk in front of him, ‘we can’t do anything, we’re fucking trapped and stuck here.’

‘Is there another way out?’

‘Nope, front door and the rear fire exit,’ he replies, pushing the last of the slice into his mouth.

Paula watches him lick his greasy fingers while he sways gently on the spot. With the initial fear and adrenalin easing off he’s left in a normal drunk state, slurring his words and swearing coarsely.

Panic threatens to grip her stomach. A deep feeling that bubbles and churns inside. A sense of sudden helplessness but also that she should be doing something, calling someone, telling someone. How did this happen without her noticing it? Why didn’t anyone call and tell her? But then with her career dominating her life so much she had very few friends left and her mother would be out playing bingo.

Oh god. The thought of her mother sends her stomach plummeting to the ground. The bingo hall was in the centre of town. Clarke said it was everywhere, her mother would be out tonight, she was out nearly every night enjoying her life, which is something she kept telling Paula she should be doing.

‘Oh god,’ Paula feels vomit rising in her throat, her eyes sting with tears.

‘What?’ Clarke asks.

‘My mother was out tonight…playing bingo…’

‘In town?’

‘Yeah at the Commodore.’

He doesn't reply but just stands there chewing on the next slice of pizza, noisily working his jaws, squelches and chomps sounding into the quiet of the dark office. He swallows the mouthful, another noisy action that sends a feeling of repulsion through Paula.

‘You gonna say something?’ Clarke asks at hearing Paula starting to speak then stopping.

‘No, well yeah I was going to ask about your wife but I forgot…sorry.’

‘That bitch, ha! Fuck her…stupid slag.’

‘Clarke!’

‘What?! I’m only pointing a fact out, I hope she got bitten on her saggy fucking tits.’

‘Don’t say that,’ Paula replies in a soft tone, feeling a growing sense of unease at his drunken shouting.

‘Can say what I like,’ he slurs, ‘bitch left me didn’t she…fucked off with that…that…cunt,’ he sounds the final word, emphasising every letter with a voice getting louder by the second.

‘Okay I’m sorry Clarke, I shouldn’t have mentioned it,’ Paula says softly, trying to placate the angry man.

Paula winces as he lurches to his desk and grabs at the photograph of his children, holding it close to look through blurred eyes.

‘And the fucking CSA take a fortune off me every month too, don’t even get to see ‘em,’ he casts the frame down with a heavy clunk as it hits the desk.

‘Maybe we should have a look at the rear door, it might be clear,’ she offers gently.

‘Yeah, yeah whatever…’ he turns round to follow her. Paula moves into the darkness of the hallway, away from the big windows of the main office. Clarke shuffles behind her, belching and exhaling stale beer breath into her face.

They move down the stairs, pausing before the final flight and listening for any noises. Just the odd soft thump from the front door. Paula winces from the noise of his heavy feet and wheezing chest as they descend the final few stairs.

‘Ssshh,’ she whispers softly. He ignores her and pushes past, turning at the bottom and heading straight down the hall to the staff room they were in just minutes before.

She follows him in, holding her head aside from having to be in the wake of dirty fumes he trails behind him.

They stop close to the windowless rear fire exit door.  With no other windows giving a view onto the back they have to make do with listening and the sounds coming through indicate the route is blocked. Groans, thumps and feet shuffling. Different voices making distinct noises, all of them low but varying in pitch.

‘S’blocked,’ Clarke tries to whisper but ends up speaking in a normal voice. The response is instant with an increased noise from outside. More determined thumps against the door, the growls throatier and closer.

Paula backs away, moving silently across the room. Clarke shrugs and walks behind her. Using the moonlight to stare at her backside as they ascend the stairs and head back towards their office.

Back in the office, Paula heads to the small cubicle used to make hot drinks, taking the kettle into the toilet to fill from the tap. Get him some coffee, that’s the first thing. He needs to sober up and think straight.

She turns from switching the kettle on to see the main office is empty.  A loud thump followed by a curse coming from the manager’s office.

‘What are you doing?’ She asks, looking through the door at Clarke bent over as he rummages through the desk drawers.

‘Ha! Fucking yes!’ He stands up grinning, clutching a three quarters full bottle of whiskey, ‘knew he kept it here.’

‘How about some coffee instead? I’ve just put the kettle on.’

‘Coffee? Fuck off love, this is the end of the world…I’m going out pissed.’

‘It’s not the end of the world,’ she replies, still keeping to the gentle tone for fear of provoking him, ‘we just need to wait a few hours until they can get a grip on it.’

‘Listen to it,’ he barks with laughter, ‘get a grip on it she says…you heard the news, government ain’t doing nothing, the fucking pigs have lost control…’

‘Don’t call them pigs,’ she tries to soothe him.

‘They’re fucking pigs,’ he bellows, his face flushing with anger, ‘all of ‘em…dirty fucking pigs…she can keep her new pig boyfriend and they can both have my money every month…’

‘Okay…okay that’s fine,’ Paula backs down, moving away from the door.

‘Did you know he was a pig?’ He shouts as he stumbles from the office, ‘a fucking pig driving a pig car…she left me for a pig…’

‘Er…yeah I think you mentioned it once or twice.’

‘Yeah well, they’re all bent anyway…I got a fucking speeding ticket cos of him.’

No, you went through a fixed camera and then blamed him, I’ve heard this so many times now. She stays quiet, slowly making coffee. Going through deliberate actions of spooning the granules into the mug, then adding milk before pouring the hot water in.

She turns holding the mug. He takes a big pull from the bottle, gulping the fiery contents neat into his stomach before wiping his mouth with the back of his meaty hand.

Lowering the bottle he sighs, a long drawn out wet sound that pushes the air from his lungs, making him wheeze.  A rattling coughing fit follows. ‘End of the world,’ he slurs after recovering from the chesty phlegm coated hacking, he lifts the bottle and takes another swig.

Paula looks away, disgusted at the sight. Her hands tremble as they clutch the hot mug, her heart racing inside her chest. Her mother, all her friends, everyone. The news man said it was everywhere, that it spread across Europe within hours. Every town and city was affected. Now she’s stuck here with a fat aggressive slob drinking neat whiskey.

When he doesn't speak for a few minutes she glances up, seeing his face swathed in moonlight. Watching his greedy eyes fixed on her, he takes another swig from the bottle, keeping his gaze fixed on her body. His eyes visibly moving up and down to take her in.

Her shirt is undone. The top few buttons and her hair loose around her shoulders. Without taking her eyes off him she suddenly becomes aware of her own appearance. The air becomes charged as she imagines the view through his eyes. The reveal of cleavage, the shirt hanging out from her pencil skirt, the long flowing hair. Like something from a cheap porn movie. That’s how he would see her.

‘Where you going?’ He sneers as she turns to walk off.

‘Toilet, I need the toilet.’

‘Shout if you need a hand,’ he laughs.

‘Yeah thanks,’ she crosses in front of him, knowing he’ll be staring straight at her backside. Out the door and into the hallway. She pushes the toilet door open and closes it firmly behind her, putting the lock over before feeling for the light switch.

The sudden glare burns her eyes, causing her to squint and squeeze them shut. They slowly adjust until she can view herself in the mirror. Nodding with disappointment that she was right. She does look like someone from a cheap porn movie.

Paula knew she was attractive and worked hard to avoid using her looks to gain approval. Relying on hard work and sheer determination, but now, with the top buttons undone and her hair cascading down her shoulders she looks the very opposite of the professional accountant.

Working quickly, she deftly pushes her hair into a bun and fixes it in place before tucking her shirt in and doing the button back up. Adjusting her skirt and smoothing herself down she nods and takes a deep breath, staring into her own hazel eyes.

Too many thoughts whirling in her mind. Everything that Clarke said about outside, about the fights and attacks, people biting each other, Jason attacking another man. Then the news reporter with his tie pulled down and walking off the set. Her mother being at risk, her friends she couldn’t get hold off.

Clarke now getting drunk and becoming nastier by the second, and more than anything she was worried about the way he was looking at her, the leer on his face.

Keep him calm and keep your distance. Don’t do anything to wind him up or set him off. She nods at her own thoughts, wishing she’d just left an hour ago. But then she’d have been outside and in danger, maybe that was better than being stuck in here with him.

Outside she crosses the hallway, forcing herself to adopt her normal work manner. Head upright, face passive and look professional.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ She stops dead at the sight of him stood at the back of the room. A pile of files emptied and dumped on the floor at his feet, his hands clutching at his groin as he pisses a jet of urine over them.

‘Having a piss,’ he hiccups, ‘I’ve always hated these fucking files…that alright with you is it?’ His voice becomes barbed with a hidden edge. ‘Paula,’ he adds slowly, swaying side to side as he directs the piss over the pile, ‘Paula the accountant,’ he sniggers, finding something funny with the words.

She moves to the cubicle and takes her mug, sipping at the still warm contents as she listens in disgust at the stream of liquid hitting the thin cardboard covers with a dull sound. He finishes up, grunting with effort as he spurts the last few drops out, making them spatter onto the covers.

‘That’s fucking better,’ he heads back towards Paula, fumbling with his flies that are thankfully hidden in the shadows of the office. ‘Have a nice piss did ya? You were gone long enough.’

‘Yes thank you,’ she replies dully, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground. He stops a few feet away, breathing heavily. Making her only too aware of his presence. The stench of booze, smoke and now piss mix in with the scent of the greasy pizza and the hot air of the office.

‘You got changed,’ he says in a suspicious voice, ‘why d’you get changed?’

‘I didn’t, I just tucked myself in…’ she speaks softly, trying to keep her voice as neutral as possible.

‘Why?’ He demands.

How do I answer that? ‘Er…just felt like it,’ she shrugs.

‘Felt like it? Why…the fucking world is ending and you rush off to make yourself look tidy…what’s all that about?’

‘I don’t know, I just…’

‘I know why,’ he states, ‘you think you’re better than me don’t you…’

‘No Clarke, really nothing like that, I just…’

‘Yes you do,’ he waves a dismissive hand at her, ‘you’ve always thought it, we all see what you’re like…all prim and proper…oooh don’t look at my arse…oooh don’t look at my tits,’ he mocks her voice, speaking high pitched as he waves his arms in the air.

‘Clarke I don’t think like that,’ she says quietly. Just the words tits and arse being mentioned by him set alarm bells ringing in her mind. A threshold passed. A step taken.

‘I’m Paula and I’m better than all you fat old men…you can look at my arse…at my perfect arse but you’ll never have it…’

‘Clarke please stop…’

‘Only Dominic can tap this arse.’

‘What?’

‘You and Dominic, everyone seen you together, fucking in the toilet and sucking him off in the office…’

‘Clarke that’s enough,’ she snaps, making her voice hard and hoping he’ll stop.

‘Ha! You don’t deny it though do you…you wait till I tell everyone…oh,’ his voice falls flat, ‘there ain’t no one now is there…’

‘There will be Clarke,’ she replies quickly, ‘everyone will be okay, the police and army will get control and this will all be sorted within a couple of days…we’ll be back here on Monday laughing about and wondering who pissed on the files,’ she jokes feebly.

‘No,’ he growls, ‘there ain’t gonna be no Monday morning here no more, s’all gone ain't it…fucked…everyone’s fucked…’

‘Oh I don’t think so,’ she smiles keeping her voice light.

‘I don’t fucking care what you think,’ he barks in a sudden angry tone, ‘you can stick what you think up your perfect little arse.’

‘Okay, I’m sorry…I just meant I’m sure everything will be okay.’

‘Perfect little arse,’ he repeats in a lower voice, ‘does Dominic like your perfect little arse does he?’

‘Nothing has ever happened with Dominic,’ she replies stiffly.

‘I bet he fucks you in the arse doesn't he…you look like the kind of girl that takes in the shitter…all prim and posh in here, bet you’re a right dirty slut in the bedroom.’

She grips the mug tighter, feeling trapped and very alone. Her senses screaming to run.

‘Eh?’ He asks. She doesn't reply but stays quiet. Keeping her head lowered and doing nothing to provoke him, ‘eh?’ he repeats angrier.

‘No,’ she whispers.

‘No what? You don’t take it in the arse? Fuck off…I bet you’ve had more cock up there than I’ve had…’

‘That’s enough,’ she shouts, ‘stop it…get a grip and just stop it.’

‘Eh?’ He says again, this time his voice is loaded with intent, ‘get a grip? You want me to get a grip?’

‘No I just meant…’

‘She wants a grip does she…all that talk of fucking has turned you on hasn’t it…I bet you were in the toilet touching yourself…fingering your wet pu…’

‘STOP IT,’ Paula shouts, ‘that is disgusting…’ She realises she’s taken a step away from the cubicle and is stood facing him.

He exhales slowly and even in the moonlight she can see him sagging, ‘sorry…I’m sorry…I’m pissed and…’

‘Okay but please just stop, we’ll get through this but…’

‘I haven’t had a shag for ages…Not since the wife left and that was over a year ago,’ he takes a deep breath as her mouth drops open in shock, ‘I don’t want to go out like this…fat and ugly and no one loving me…’ he lets the comments hang in the air.

‘You’re not fat or ugly Clarke but this isn’t the time to…’

‘You don’t think I’m fat and ugly? Listen…we’re fucked…those fucking things will get in here and kill us, we can’t get out…’

‘We’ve just got to wait for help.’

‘There ain't no help coming…no one is coming…we’re here and fucked…so let’s go out with a bang eh?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Come on Paula, me and you, I’m not the best looking bloke in the world but hey,’ he grins, holding his hands out to the side, ‘it is the end of the world.’

‘No, please just stop it…’

‘Why? Why not? You just said you didn’t think I was ugly or fat.’

‘It’s got nothing to do with that Clarke, it’s just wrong…’

‘And you went in the toilet and made yourself look all pretty for me.’

Oh god he’s taken it completely the wrong way, ‘Please can we just drop it.’

‘I’ve always like you Paula, you know that…your perfume you wear and those tight skirts, always bending over the copier and wiggling it about eh?’ He takes a shuffling step forward. She takes a big step back.

‘No Clarke, I’m sorry but no…’

‘Eh?’ He whines, ‘why not? Fucking hell love I’m only asking for a shag, I’ll be in and out quicker than a rat up a drainpipe, you won’t even notice.’

‘No.’

‘Paula, just bend over for me, pull your skirt up and let me have a quickie…I won’t grope your tits or anything, not unless you want me to that is,’ he adds hopefully.

‘No Clarke, stop, just please stop.’

He shuffles closer, his voice low and whining as he starts pleading, ‘oh come on, I won’t spunk in you or anything like that, I’ll jizz in my hand…’

‘That’s disgusting, stop it…just stop…’

‘Just pretend I’m Dominic, ah come on Paula, I haven’t shagged anyone for ages, I’ll blow my load within minutes…please love, come on just let me shag you.’

‘Absolutely not and stop talking about it,’ she speaks clearly, keeping her voice neutral.

‘What harm will it do?’

‘Clarke there are people dying outside, my own mother is out there somewhere…we’re trapped and everything is going wrong, please I’m begging you to just stop…’

‘And I’m begging you to just let me shag you, fucking hell Paula, just let me stick it in.’

‘Please Clarke, please just stop.’

‘Okay, no shagging…just a blowjob then…I can give it a clean in the toilet and I won’t like you know…do it in your mouth or anything.’

‘Oh my god,’ she gasps with fear and frustration, ‘no…I said no! Get it…no.’

‘Paula,’ he whines, ‘just the tits then…just show me your tits and I’ll wank myself off, maybe give one of them a touch…’

‘Fucking stop it!’ She shouts, surprised at herself for swearing.

‘Just the tits, keep your knickers on…just the tits…show me your tits Paula and I’ll have a quick wank and we can go out happy. My wife broke my heart when she left, I don’t get to see the kids, I lost the house and the car…I can barely afford my rent…we’re going to die Paula, I just want to feel like a man.’

‘What by standing there in the dark staring at my boobs?’ She asks in shock.

‘Yes, I’m worthless and fat and ugly, I’ll never get promoted or do anything other than sit in this shitty office…I drink myself stupid every day and hate myself so much,’ a drunken sob bursts out, quickly cut off with a hard sniff.

‘Clarke I’m sorry, I’m sorry but please don’t ask me…I can’t help you and…’

‘You didn’t see what I saw Paula, it’s everywhere…dead bodies and everyone killing each other…please love, please just let me see a pair of real tits before I die, not just internet tits but real ones.’

‘Clarke you’re scaring me now, please don’t.’

He takes a deliberate step forward, ‘show me your tits,’ his voice changes, the pleading tone gone, replaced with a firmer edge.

‘Stop this,’ she snaps but her voice quavers, showing the fear running through her.

‘Show me your tits,’ he growls, harder this time, demanding.

She puts her hand to her neck as though covering herself, stepping backwards towards the cubicle, ‘Clarke…this is wrong, please just stop.’

‘NOW,’ He shouts, she catches a glimpse of face from the moonlight. The angry expression, set eyebrows and thinly pursed lips. ‘Show me your fucking tits.’

She flinches at the sound of his zip being pulled down, with the windows behind him his form is silhouetted, his hands lost in the shadows at the front of his body. Material being moved, he breathes hard as he fumbles to release himself.

‘Clarke…please…don’t do this.’ Too late. It’s happening.

‘Come on love, just talk to me while I do it…say something nice to me,’ his tone softens again, breathing gets faster, in the quietness of the office she can hear the rustle of his shirt sleeve against his belt as he starts stroking himself.

She stays silent, utterly shocked to the core of what’s happening. She wants to run and hide from him. But just the thought of doing anything that might set him off, might provoke his anger again. Right now he’s masturbating just feet from her, but he’s not touching her. Frozen to the spot she listens to his breathing, feeling repulsed and sickened but unable to do anything.

‘Say something Paula…’

‘I can’t…please don’t do this Clarke, you’re a decent man and this is horrible.’

‘Just talk to me, say something nice.’

‘No.’

‘What bra are you wearing?’

‘What?’

‘Is it white and lacy or black or see through?’ His voice rasps out.

‘No, just…no.’

‘Tell me,’ he whispers, ‘come on just tell me…’

‘No Clarke, I’m not doing this.’

‘I bet it’s white and lacy…it is isn’t it…all white and lacy and tight.’

‘No.’

‘What about your knickers? You wearing a thong?’

She closes her eyes, feeling a knot of fear and disgust grip at her stomach.

‘It’s a thong isn’t it…bet it goes right into your arse,’ he makes a grunting noise, then snorts to clear his nasal passage. ‘I know the window is behind me, you can’t see me…but I can see you Paula, please…just undo your blouse for me…just a few buttons.’

‘No,’ she whimpers, rooted to the spot.

Her eyes fill with tears, trapped, alone and scared. Get it done, get it done quickly. She raises a shaking hand to her top button, he gasps with excitement at seeing her move. Her trembling fingers work at the button, she squeezes her eyes closed. Hating herself for doing this, hating him, terrified and praying this isn’t really happening.

‘Yeah…oh yeah…’ he breathes out as the first button comes undone, ‘do the next one…the next one.’

She stifles the sob, clenching her jaw and willing herself to just let him get it done, show him something to get him to finish quickly. She works at the next one, using her finger tips to push the material apart, showing him the skin of her chest.

‘Oh god Paula, oh my god…keep going…please I’m begging you…do the next one.’

‘Promise me you won’t touch me,’ she says with a shaky voice.

‘Just fucking DO IT,’ He bellows, his voice cracking with anger. Spittle hits her face. She flinches, jerking her head back. Ice cold fear grips inside.

Tears stream down her cheeks, silently falling from her chin onto the soft material of her shirt. Her lip trembles as she works the next button, praying he’ll finish soon. She pushes the material apart knowing her cleavage will be on show now. A strange urge to look down, to see what he can see comes over her, can he see the cleft of the cleavage in the dark.

‘I can see your tits…fucking hell…oh keep going, please…’ he grunts, his tone back to being softer.

She does the next button quicker, determined to get it done as quick as possible. He hasn’t seen a naked woman for a long time. He’s drunk and will pass out. Just get it done quickly.

She pulls the material of her shirt apart, revealing the front of her bra, the next button and she tugs the material free from the waistband of her skirt. At the same time of feeling utter repulsion she wills him to be turned on so he’ll finish.

‘Yeah…fuck they’re nice…really big too…pull your bra down for me, come on…’ He steps forward, a quick deft movement that belies the size of the man. She jolts backwards, her backside hitting the edge of the cubicle counter. He stands close, breathing stale breath into her face.

‘Almost….’ He grunts, going faster,’ his bulk blocks her path. His body shuffles closer. She can feel his erection against his hip, the movement of his hand. The fast breathing and stale air being blown into her face.

A rustling of clothes. She flinches, tenses as the hand gently touches the material of her bra. A testing movement. A probe to see the reaction.

‘Stop,’ she flinches, pulling away from him.

‘Stay there you fucking whore,’ he snaps, the anger instantly pouring from him. He stops mid-stroke, pushing her body one handed against the counter. His hand finds her jaw, grabbing it to hold tight, ‘don’t fucking move.’

She holds her breathe, craning her head away. Forehead knotted in terror she stays stock still as the hand starts probing further. Finger tips groping at her breasts. She feels the hand cup her, squeezing harder as his breathing becomes more laboured. His hand working faster.

‘Yeah,’ he gasps. One fat greasy finger slips inside the bra, yanking it down to reveal the nipple. He starts tweaking and rubbing it, making it stand up. She can feel the grease from the pizza being smeared over her, feel her nipple start to erect, an internal rage starts to build that her body responds like this. A physical reaction that she has no control over. Disgusted, repulsed with a growing feeling of sick building in her stomach.

‘You want it…you’re getting’ turned on,’ he whispers hoarsely.

‘No,’ she says through gritted teeth. The vomit starts to rise. She bites it down, swallowing hard and breathing heavy to force herself to not puke.

‘Fuck yeah…’ he keeps working the nipple, taking her heavy breathing as a sign she’s enjoying it. Flicking harder, pinching and pulling at the same spot. She winces with the pain, desperate for him to finish. His hand working furiously now, surely he must be close, he must be nearly there.

‘Please just stop,’ she begs.

‘You fucking want me, I’m gonna fuck you…you hear me, I’m gonna fuck you, turn round and pull your panties down.’

‘No,’ she whimpers, a tiny sound that shakes and cracks with fear. She gasps in terror, trying to push herself back against the cubicle, desperate to be away from him pawing at her.

‘I,’ he breathes hard between each word, ‘am…gonna….fuck….you,’ the last word is whispered in her ear followed by his hot, wet tongue darting out to lick her ear lobe. His hand drops to her groin, pushing the material of her skirt between her legs as he fumbles and rubs.

Smothered, trapped and feeling his penis driving into her hip, almost dry humping her. The heat, the stale breath, his foul odour, fear, terror, anger and she snaps. Lashing out with both hands to drive him back. He takes a step back, grinning at the prospect of now being allowed to get rough. He slaps her across the face, once and hard. The noise sounding out like a clap and snapping her head to one side.

‘Plenty more where that came from,’ he grins, his face sickening in the pale light. She takes a quick step forward and drives her knee into his genitals, feeling the hardness of her knee cap impact against the softness of his testicles.

He bends double, staggering back with his hands clutching at his groin, small gasping noises coming from him.

‘Stay away from me,’ she whispers, her voice low.

‘CUNT,’ he screams. She tries to run past him but he grabs out with one big hand, clenching the bun on the back of her hair. He grips and spins her round into the nearest desk. She hits it hard, the solid plinth sending shooting pains through her shin bones.

She feels a blow to the back of her head as he punches out, sprawling her over the top of the desk. He’s on top of her, grabbing at her skirt, first trying to pull it down, yanking at the material. She kicks and bucks but his body weight holds her down. Bent over the desk she can hardly move. He gives up trying to force the skirt down and starts pushing it up, grabbing the hem at the bottom and forcing it up over her thighs.

She screams, a long ear piercing noise. He reacts with another punch, smacking her hard on the back of the skull, driving her forehead into the desk.

She can feel her skirt being pushed up, her backside exposed. He grabs at her flimsy knickers, thrusting his fat greasy fingers between her legs.

‘You wet yet?’ He hisses, his fingers probing violently for the penetration. Paula can hardly breath, the weight of him is immense, his huge gut pressing into her, one heavy arm pinned across the back, his legs pushing into hers, trapping her in place.

She gasps with agony as his finger jabs violently inside her. He pushes harder, driving his hand back and forth. Raping her with his fingers. His thumb angles round, starts groping for her anus. She can feel the fat digit pushing between her cheeks. She tenses with everything she has, clenching her muscles taut. He pushes in, unable to get inside. He hits her again, slamming her head against the desk. Still she tenses, locking her muscles up tight.

‘CUNT,’ he screams in frustration, not content with raping her vagina but wanting to defile all of her. Drunk on power, crazed with lust. No law, no police, nothing. He can do what he wants and he’s dreamt of this for a long time now.

‘Okay,’ she screams, ‘okay…you’re hurting me…’

‘Fuck you,’ he roars down, pressing his mouth next to her ear.

‘I’ll let you…I will…please…’ she sobs, begging him to get off.

He doesn't reply but works his hand harder, sending shooting pain through her whole body.

‘Not like this,’ she gasps, ‘please Clarke…let me turn over, come on…let me turn over.’

‘Nah, I’ll fuck you like this,’ he grunts.

‘You can’t see my tits,’ she calls out, ‘don’t you want to see my tits Clarke…’

He pauses, his hand going still. ‘Yeah, yeah fucking right I do…roll over and if you fucking do anything I’ll smash your fucking teeth in, you hear me you little cunt?’

‘Yes,’ she begs, ‘I won’t…I’m sorry, I should have let you, you were right.’

Gripping her hair he eases back, sliding his fingers out from inside her. With his weight gone she gasps for breath and pauses then starts to move, rolling onto her side. He glares down at her, sniffing his fingers. She watches as he licks them, sucking on the one that was inside her.

‘You taste of spunk,’ he grins evilly.

She lashes out, hard and fast. A signal runs from her brain to her hand. Telling her not to use her fist. Telling her not to risk damaging the bones. She opens her hand as she slams the base of her palm into his nose, using the power of her wrist and arm to snap the bone with a dull crack. He reels back, hands clutching at his face, blood pumping out between his fingers. On her back she grips the edge of the desk with her hands and kicks out hard with his legs, driving her feet into his soft stomach.

He falls back with an audible oomph as the air is driven from him. Taking her chance she pulls herself free of the desk and runs for the door. His arm lashes out, catching a glimpse of her movement between his fingers, punching her hard to the side of the head. She spins off, staggering and losing her balance. He takes a step and kicks her stomach, his heavy foot driving into the softness of her stomach.

Rolling with the blow, Paula scrabbles to move as his heavy foot stamps down, narrowly missing her head.

Clambering to her feet she jumps back, moving further into the room, the escape to the door blocked by Clarke standing there.

His breathing comes out hard. With her back to the window she can see his face, the dark patches streaming down from his nose. He wipes the blood away, smearing it along his cheeks. The alcohol anaesthetising the pain.

Cold hard rage settles in her mind. The pain still pulsing from his fingers raping her. Her stomach hurting and tender. But the fear is gone.

‘You’re fucked,’ he wheezes and charges. She doesn't run away this time. She charges at him, hardly believing what she’s doing. She launches herself onto him, slamming the palms if her hands into his face again and again. He tries to lash out but she dances, ducks, weaves and moves. Hitting him again and again. He roars with pain and frustration, turning to keep walking at her.

Paula backs away, leading him on. He takes the bait, stalking her with murderous intent. She backs into the cubicle and reaches round to grab the kettle, launching forward and swinging it into his head. He goes down hard. Collapsing on the carpet.

He rolls onto his back in an effort to sit up. She stamps down, driving the heel of her sensible office shoe into his scrotum, rupturing one of his testicles.

Reacting in instinct he rolls away, screaming and gasping from the agony. Her mind feels clear. Clearer than ever before. A glimmer comes into her eyes. A dangerous smile twitches at her lips. She puts the kettle back on the side and turns it on before striding over to the photocopier. She grasps one of the heavy boxes of paper and lifts it above her head. Slamming it down onto the side of his face. Another one gets launched at his fat gut.

He screams and bucks, twisting and writhing as he gets pummelled by the heavy sharp cornered boxes. Clarke rolls and tries to rise, scrabbling with adrenalin to his feet.

She moves to the side of the copier and takes the heavy guillotine, the solid plank of wood with the strip of metal and cutter using for trimming paper. He crabs backwards, his back hitting the front of his own desk. The same desk she was assaulted over just seconds ago.

She swings the hard edge of the guillotine into the side of his knee. He screams and goes down as the edge drives into his flesh, tearing it open. She brings it up, holding it high above her head before driving it down with every ounce of strength she has into his elbow. A loud crack as the bone snaps. He screams with a high pitched wail.

Behind her the kettle clicks off, still warm from the coffee she made a short time ago and taking only minutes to re-boil. She grabs the handle and walks towards Clarke. In the darkness, with agony searing through his body he doesn't see her until the last second but by then it’s too late. The boiling hot water is poured over his head, scalding his face.

He screams, thrashing his limbs then screaming as more pain comes from his broken elbow.

‘You raped me,’ she hisses in a low voice, ‘you put yourself inside me.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he splutters, wailing in pain as he wipes at the peeling skin on his face.

‘No,’ she shakes her head, ‘sorry isn’t good enough…I begged you to stop…I pleaded with you Clarke. You forced yourself inside me…’ she growls, the anger building up. She takes two steps forward, slamming the base of her foot into his face. Smashing his cheek bone in.

He slumps over, knocked out. In a rage like she has never felt before she grabs the guillotine and kick down at it, forcing the plastic guard away. It comes free far easier than she’d have thought.

She drops down beside him, grabbing his hand and splaying the fingers over the edge of the board. Breathing hard she pushes the solid metal cutting handle down, so the sharp blade is resting on the top of his digits. The same digits that forced their way inside her.

Standing up she listens as he starts to murmur, his voice getting stronger by the second. He comes back to consciousness, slowly at first. She waits until he tries opening his burnt eyes, screaming at the sight of his fingers wedged under the blade. She stamps down, driving her foot onto the handle. The blade bites deep, severing his pinky and the next one clean off. He jerks his hand back, tearing the flesh even worse. With two fingers gone and the rest hanging on by mere fleshy strips he stares with an open mouth. Imitating a goldfish as he closes it, then opens it. Shock hitting him. Even the alcohol now unable to blot the pain out.

Slowly he rotates his head, looking away from his ruined hand and up at the woman stood there staring down at him. The moonlight bathing her beautiful face. She stares at him blankly. Not a flicker of emotion. His fingers pump thick blood out that drips down his wrist and along his arm. He stares back at it, unable to move his broken arm to stem the bleeding.

Having already lost a pint of blood from the broken nose, his fat gorged body is unable to cope with the trauma. A tightening grips his chest. His over-worked heart goes into spasm. He gasps for breath. Every other pain forgotten as his chest explodes with agony.

He’s dead within a minute. Blood loss and shock finishing him off.

Paula looks down at his body and slowly turns her head towards the door, listening to the banging coming from the ground floor.

She just killed a man. Caused his death by her own means. His life is gone, just a fat bloated, ruined corpse left leaking juices over the office carpet.

Paula doesn't feel disgust, nor does she feel sorrow. He caused this and made it happen. Of all the choices he could have taken he chose that one. Chose to bully, threaten and force himself on her.

She walks to the window, grimacing at the stench of piss from the files scattered about the floor. Looking down she takes in the pools of light cast from the street lights and the figures staggering from the dark edges through the car park towards her building. In the distance of the town she can see the glow of flames from a burning building.

Paula glances back at the dark form of Clarke. The first dead body. Her first kill.

The first of many.

Four

‘TO ARMS….AMBUSH…STAND TO,’ Dave bellows at the top of his lungs. A decision made to alert the others. Stealth was contemplated; stay quiet and get to them quickly but by killing that female undead he could have alerted the whole horde that he knew what was happening. So instead he roars. Dave’s huge voice bellowing through the fort. As he sprints across the ground he notices the undead silently rising up.

Clarence grips his massive hands round the girls narrow waist, staring up at her through misted eyes. The dull ache in his head is nothing compared to the feeling of lust coursing through his system. She leans in, gradually lowering her face towards his. Her lips open, ready for the kiss. With wet cheeks from the hot tears he cried, he breathes hard, waiting for the contact. Dave’s voice booms out. Clarence ignores it, intent only on taking this woman and releasing the tension building so strongly inside him.

Clarence was always big. Even as a boy he was taller and broader than everyone else his age, and often bigger than those a few years older than him. Because of his abnormal size he was targeted by older kids who had something to prove, and he learnt to fight from very young. Either that or be constantly taking beatings. He had a warrior’s heart and a deep sense of pride and loyalty. Years spent in the Parachute Regiment had instilled a cast iron discipline within his gut. No matter what happens, you always stand by your men. They protect you, they kill for you and they would die for you. The return had to be the same.

Despite the passion. Despite the lust. Despite the pheromones pumping from the woman which drove all of his subconscious senses crazy, something inside Clarence heard that call to arms.

The man ignored it. The man gripped the woman harder. The man wanted nothing more than to take the woman.

But the soldier listened. The soldier heard the call to arms. The soldier heard the order screamed with desperate fury, STAND TO. AMBUSH. Those words resonated with the soldier inside Clarence.

Mr Howie. The lads. Dave. They are the unit now, the platoon and his brothers. His eyes widen, face becomes contorted as the soldier beats the man back down. The soldier screams the orders and forces Clarence to react. The soldier makes Clarence’s hands reach up and grab the woman by the head and the soldier makes those strong hands twist the head violently, snapping the spinal column, killing the undead woman instantly.

He launches the body away as he takes to his feet. The blood pumping through his body from the lust is diverted into his muscles. Rage builds. Fury grows as he scoops the corpse up and launches it across the ground into the small group of female undead stood in front of Blowers. The corpse narrowly misses the young lad but takes several of the girls off their feet.

By the time they start getting back up, Clarence has crossed the ground and grabbed at the woman draped over Blowers. The young lad snarls at Clarence for taking his woman away. Clarence simply pushes him away while yanking the woman back. He grabs her head, snapping the neck in the same manner as the previous one. Acting on instinct he powers into the women getting to their feet, punching, kicking and smashing them away.

Dave sprints past the massed undead as they start to stand. Cookey and April stood in front of him, Nick behind with several women on him. Dave veers ever so slightly and reaches out to grab a handful of April’s long flowing locks. Turning as he passes he pulls April clean away from Cookey, sending her spinning off to the side where she sprawls onto the floor. A few more paces and he’s at Nick, hands spinning as he slices the blades into the necks of the women.

Nick shouts with anger, lashing out towards Dave with fury etched on his face. Dave ducks and spins round to sweep Nick’s legs out, taking him to the floor. The change in the women is instant. The gorgeous, sultry perfect women are gone. Replaced by undead with lips pulled back and faces contorted with violence. April on her feet and snarling at Dave as Cookey staggers towards her with a face full of lust.

Dave takes in the positions of the women, knowing both Nick and Cookey are unable to fight and will just hinder his movements. With a graceful movement he reaches Cookey and again sweeps his legs out, taking him to the ground as the women charge.

Nick starts to rise, furious at being denied his women. With one foot, Dave pushes him back down and slices out, ripping a blade through the closest throat. Spinning he kicks the woman away so her pumping blood doesn't go onto the prone lads. Cookey staggers to his feet and turns sluggishly to face two charging women. Dave drops, rolls and comes up in front of Cookey, both arms extended to push a blade deep into each throat. With a deft motion he steps back and again sweeps Cookey’s legs out, the two women still pinned and held on the knife blades. He pivots to draw the women round, using them as a blocking shield to end the charge of another undead.

Nick roars defiantly, shaking his head and trying again to get back up. Dave doesn't waste breath in shouting but gently hooks his foot round an ankle and pulls it out, Nick collapses with a foul curse.

April coming in full speed with four behind her, going straight for Cookey. Another two going for Nick, and all of them ignoring Dave almost as if they know he isn’t affected.

He yanks the blades free of the throats and with a flick of his wrist he sends a blade spinning across the small gap to drive deep into the skull of the nearest one going for Nick, perfectly judged and the impact sends her reeling into the second one, taking them both down and buying a few seconds to deal with the April and her mini horde.

One knife left. Five women. One drunk lad shouting incoherently as he tries to get back up. Dave takes it all in within a split second, takes two steps and uses Cookey’s back as a platform to leap from, both gaining height and pushing Cookey back down. In the air and he again grabs April’s long hair, jerking her off her feet as he lands amongst them.

One fist gripping her hair he spins and kicks, using his feet to drive them back away from Cookey. One thrust and one goes down. Wrenching April round to his front he sends her bodily into another one at the same time as stretching out to slice the blade across a soft throat. Knife reversed and he drives the point into the skull of the one April barged into. Knife pulled out just as quickly and he back kicks, slamming his foot into the back of a knee joint. The woman sprawls out just inches from Cookey. Still gripping April, Dave jumps and lands on her back, driving a foot into the spine at the back of her neck and feeling the crack of bone.

The speed of his movements renders April, as infected and driven as she is, unable to do anything other than be ragged about. The four are down and dead, only April left and one more getting up to charge at Nick. Still holding April, Dave throws the last knife and watches as it sticks in the face, the body slumping down beside Nick.

Dave snaps his hand back, forcing April to look at him. He locks eyes on her for long seconds, staring through her, staring deep, staring at the thing inside her.

‘Please,’ April whimpers in a sudden soft tone. The fury gone, the hunger replaced by a pleading tone, ‘don’t hurt me.’

Dave stares deep, his face utterly devoid of expression. She begs again, reaching out a hand to touch his arm softly. Tears stream down her cheeks as Dave looks for something, staring hard as though examining her, then he breaks her neck and watches the body slump before retrieving his knives and pulling the lads to their feet.

Running through the gate I stop dead and gawp at the sight. Every undead within the fort is stood upright and staring at me. Over a thousand figures completely still. Nothing moving. No sound coming from them. The flickering light from the flaming torches bathes them in a soft orange glow which just makes it look worse. Red bloodshot eyes, drool hanging from mouths. These are not the same undead that Marcy brought in. These are feral and wild undead. Hungry and about to be unleashed.

As one they lift their faces to the sky and begin howling. Screeching in a primeval roar as whatever hold was on them is broken.

‘DAVE?’ I scream as loud as I can but the howling drowns me out, my throat hurts from retching up sea water and acidic bile.

The Saxon. It’s the only chance we’ve got. I start running across the ground cursing that I’ve got only one full magazine in the assault rifle and nothing else.

The second they stop howling is when they’ll charge. These are fresh and hardly injured, taken with care by Marcy and her group. They’ll be strong, fast and utterly focussed on destroying us. Trying to make the most of it I sprint as hard as I can. My head pounding with pain, stomach churning from the sea water and I feel weak and exhausted. Drained of energy. Making my legs move is so hard. I feel uncoordinated, my breathing is out of whack and my eyes start to water from the effort.

My head spins as I become dizzy and light-headed, my legs buckle and I fall to the floor landing on the hard compacted ground. Refusing to give up I force myself on, making my legs work. Get to the Saxon and the GPMG, that’s all I have to do. You weak pathetic little man, get up and run. You’ve almost destroyed everything now get up.

Growling with self-hatred I plough on, only dimly aware as the howling ends. They’ll be coming now. I’ve fucked up. I’ve fucked everything up. Manipulated and played like a child. Turned on by some rancid infected thing that lured me into believing I loved her. Lani gone and turned. She was amazing, a warrior but so kind and gentle. She held me close when I cried, she stood at my back when we fought and in the same day she died I tried to get with Marcy.

Absolute rage at myself burns through my soul. The lads getting drunk, Clarence losing Chris and seeing my sister, his love, cut down by Dave. All those people we saved, all those lives we lost to keep this fort, all of it fucked up for getting turned on by some fucking zombie.

I will reach that machine gun. I don’t care if I die doing it. I don’t care if I get bitten or killed, I deserve it. Everyone trusted me and I let them down. Me. Howie. Son of Howard. A fucking stupid supermarket manager out of his depth and out of control.

The growl becomes a roar as the anger at myself builds and threatens to blow me apart. How could I let this happen? What the hell was I thinking off?

The undead are charging in, moving from my right and heading straight towards me, blocking my path in thick numbers.

Cold rage has taken over. Like a hand gripping my insides and twisting them up. I raise the rifle and fire the magazine into them. Clearing a few away. The rounds do deadly work, dropping many bodies but the gun clicks empty within seconds and that’s it. I have no weapons. No axe, no knives. Just a heavy gun I can swing about.

Frustration stops me in my tracks. They aren’t running at me but coming slowly. Turning my head I see they are gathering behind me and blocking my escape. Surrounded and alone with no weapons.

Marcy. That fucking bitch. Using me. Tricking me. Luring me. Captivated by her beauty. Lani was perfect in every way and I let her die, and now she’s one of them. Everything I ever loved has been taken by these things. We should have stayed in the Saxon and tried to drive out. We should have seen the outflanking manoeuvre they were doing and got the fuck out of the way. But we didn’t. My vanity and stupidity made us stay and fight. Grinning like a fucking idiot as we charged into them.

We had everything we needed. Meredith and doctors. We had equipment to test her and find a cure. I should have taken action against Sergeant Hopewell and made sure the fort was secure but I failed at that too.

Stupid.

Pathetic.

Undeserving.

I don’t see the undead now. Just a reflection of my own self, mirrored back at me. At what I am, at what I tried to be. Mr stupid fucking Howie. Leader of the living army. Saviour of mankind. Heroic and strong.

My face lifts to the sky as I scream in pure frustration, copying the undead in their nightly howl. Every ounce of my being is projected into my rage. Even the thought that I held Marcy in my mind when I was fighting makes me feel sick.

I’m fucked. Surrounded on all sides and they’re moving in slowly. They know I can’t get away from this one. Without Dave and Clarence, without the lads, without the dog I am nothing. I’ve blagged and tricked my way this far and finally, finally they have seen through me. Out-played, out-manoeuvred, out-tricked and fucked.

My god I hate them. I hate them more than anyone has ever hated anything. Nothing I have ever felt before comes close to this. It takes over, building with greater pressure. Panting for breath, my eyes fixed open and staring down at the ground. There is no being saved this time.

Fuck it. My fault so take it on the chin and go down fighting. Chris was the proper hero, he kept them back long enough for Meredith to get away and then, when he knew he was beaten, he took his own life. He trusted me to do the right thing and I failed him. He could be watching me now, shaking his bearded face with a look of sadness. Howie, what did you do? You lost everything. We all trusted you.

Lifting my head slowly I fix my gaze on the closest undead in front of me. Baleful expressions, low evil sounding groans coming from them. Saliva hanging down from chins, dripping onto their chests. Hands clawed, eyes staring at me unblinking and consumed with hatred.

‘The feeling is mutual,’ I growl back at them drop the assault rifle and start walking. Fists clenched at my sides. Unblinking and I do not feel fear. I refuse to be scared by these things. They are foul and unclean. I will not fear them. They will take my life but I will not go nicely.

Pure unadulterated loathing, fuelled by an incandescent rage that exudes from every pore of my body. Blood pumps into my muscles. My heart beats fast and strong, thumping through my body. I become aware of everything at once. Of all the faces turned towards me. Of the hundreds of pairs of eyes fixed in my direction.

They part and open a path. Perfectly straight and leading directly to the Saxon. As one they step back and wait. Their eyes are no longer fixed on me but staring up at the top of the wall, at the solitary figure stood there framed by the moonlight. Long hair hanging down and I would know that figure anywhere now.

Marcy holds them back and without hesitation I start jogging down the path. Growls become louder as they shuffle and make small lunging motions. It feels she is barely holding them. The hunger is coming from them in waves. Evil intention pouring from the huge horde. They inch in, desperate to go for me. Glancing up she waves her arm, urging me to go faster, telling me she can’t hold them.

I start sprinting, running as they creep in bit by bit. The vehicle is just ahead of me. Marcy drops to her knees, her arms outstretched to the sides, she screams with a long painful sound that rips through the air.

Pumping my legs with everything I’ve got I reach the side of the vehicle. The undead block my way to the rear and to the front. While Marcy screams I start pushing them out the way, physically shoving and battering them back. God knows how she holds them back but she does. The scream grows weaker as I reach the back doors, clambering in as she cuts off and falls to the floor. The last door is slammed shut as the undead break free from the final hold she had and charge. Thuds and screeches as they impact on the vehicle all around me.

Scrabbling in the dark I fumble my way to the hole and climb up, racking the heavy bolt back and taking hold of the machine gun.

‘TAKE COVER….FIRING…’ I scream out.

‘CLEAR,’ Dave roars back, his voice coming from my somewhere to my left. Before I squeeze the trigger I glance up to the top of the wall. Nothing there. Just the smooth unbroken line of the wall.

With a snarl I pull the trigger and commence the slaughter.

Five

They come into view. A large solid wall of writhing figures charging down the street. Funnelled by the high walls and the long lines of flat topped vans parked nose to tail on both sides.

They don’t think anything of it. But then they don’t think. They just see her, alone and stood there, waiting to be taken.

Paula watches with interest, smiling as they get closer. She picked this road on purpose. It was perfect. High walls and one way in, the only exit is the door behind her.

And now, at night, without the street lights on, it’s very dark. Too dark to see the thin ropes extended across the road.

The front of the horde reaches the rope, hardly feeling as they push into it. Held at waist height she knew they’d just charge on, pulling the rope along with them. Two days and several practise runs to get everything set perfectly.

The rope gets pulled along, unlooping as it’s spooled out. The ends of the rope are tied onto razor wire, coils and coils of shiny new razor wire.

As the rope gets played out, it pulls the razor wire down from the top of the vehicles into the massed moving horde below. Solid continuous lines of deadly wire that slashes feet and cuts deep into limbs. The writhing mass starts slowing as they get tangled. The fury in them is so much they just push on, tearing themselves to bits in desperation to reach her.

The wire finally pings taut as it runs out, the ends fastened securely to the vehicles tow bars. In the dark, the things are unable to see what is eating them, what the thing is that is tearing them apart.

The front of the horde push on regardless. Mindless to the fact they are dragging the rope and wire further into the horde behind them. They screech in frustration, howling with violent rage. Legs and arms cut deep, veins sliced open. Fingers severed through.

The undead at the front are unaffected and push on. But then they reach the layers of broken glass painstakingly put down. Bare feet get sliced deep. Glass embedding into heels and soles. Blood pours from cuts that are made worse with every step taken.

Paula had planned for this, knowing the outbreak started late at night, when most people were in bed without shoes on. The things can withstand the pain but the body can only take so much punishment and blood loss before it starts to succumb.

Several go down from nerves being cut through, rendering the feet useless to the brain. They fall down to be cut even deeper by the glass slicing into their flesh. The ones behind them keep going, trampling their fallen brethren harder onto the shards.

The razor wire tangles huge swathes, rendering the ranks into a tangled mess that just tightens and cuts with every jerk and pull of their undead bodies.

Paula nods in satisfaction at a job well done. But it isn’t over yet. The best is yet to come. She pushes her hand into the side pocket of her cargo trousers. Gripping the small plastic handle she pulls the flare gun out and aims it straight at the front ranks still getting cut to bits on the glass.

She pulls the trigger, watching as the flare bursts out the end. Trailing a bright light as it arcs through the air and disappears from view within the horde. She cocks her head to one side, waiting for it.

The woomph of the flames igniting is a solid noise. An instant reaction that bursts the road into light. The petrol poured over the ground from the ruptured fuel tanks of the vehicles may have dried somewhat but there’s still enough left to cause a huge fire.

The flames scorch up, bursting high. The brightness so harsh she has to shield her eyes from the glare. The smell of burning flesh reaches her within seconds. The hopeless tangled undead with mashed up feet now being burned alive. Well, not alive, she muses…burnt undead. Who cares, she shrugs.

Paula watches the street, knowing she can reach the safety of the door within seconds. The flames die down as the fuel burns off. Just the clothing on the bodies left alight. A rancid smell of burning meat fills the air, not just meat but foul meat. Meat that has gone off turned green and started to decay.

The seven P’s. She had planned for this and fastens the white mask over her mouth, securing the elastic straps behind her head. She also knows the heat and odour could make her eyes water, so she places plastic lensed clear safety glasses on and starts forward.

Not one of the things remains alive. All of them either burnt to a crisp or suffocating from the lack of oxygen as they lay writhing on the floor.

Gruesome twisted remains blackened and gnarled. Razor wire biting deep into part cooked limbs and roasted torsos. Bare feet cut to ribbons by the glass, those cuts and wounds then cauterized by the searing heat.

She reaches the front, taking care to watch for any crawlers. The MP5 secured round her neck from the strap and held ready.

If only she’d had the guns that night. How a little object like a pistol could have changed everything. Clarke wouldn’t have come near her if she’d been armed. But then she’d never have realised she can fight back. She’d never have discovered her ability to kill without hesitation.

That first night she’d stayed in the offices, quietly hiding and waiting for something, but not knowing what it was. When dawn finally arrived she noticed the change, the sluggish movements of the people outside. Back then, she still thought of them as people. That mind-set had changed within a few hours. They weren’t people, they were things.

Paula observed the shuffling walking. She watched the speed they moved at. How the heads rolled and seemed unable to be controlled. There was no cohesion or co-operation between them and no apparent communication either. They bumped and knocked into each other every few seconds. They were listless and ungainly.

Using the first floor windows to lean out and shout, she led them from the front of the building towards the back. The process took ages as they stumbled so slowly. The crowd beneath the window grew larger by the minute, as the things from both the front and back came to stare up at her. In the bright daylight, and only being a few feet above them she could see the injuries clearly. A mass of ragged bite marks. Red, bloodshot eyes. Blood and gore everywhere. Broken limbs, heads split open, large chunks of flesh torn away. Injuries that would kill or incapacitate normal people.

Leaving the office was easy. Running to her car was also easy. By the time the things had seen her break for freedom and turned round, she was already at her mini, climbing in and locking the door.

She aimed the car for the town centre, which again in hindsight wasn’t the best thing to do as it put her in danger. But that short drive opened her eyes fully to the devastation. Bodies everywhere. Corpses torn apart. Entrails from stomachs laid drying in the sun. Huge patches of blood. Window fronts smashed in. Cars abandoned in the street and those things everywhere, staggering, shuffling, stumbling in all directions. Groups, couples and single ones.

The bingo hall where her mother had been was in the very centre of town, an area she couldn’t reach because of the huge horde gathered in the precinct. Sitting in the car with the engine idling, lips pursed, eyes scanning the crowd she knew, just knew her mother was gone. An instinct made from common sense and what her eyes were telling her.

When her mother shuffled into view, a large wound on her neck and the same distinctive movement as the rest, Paula showed no reaction. Simply absorbing the view and nodding gently to herself.

She drove away feeling numb. The shock of everything happening so quickly was too much. Her own flat was inaccessible. Hordes and groups were everywhere. The sheer numbers of them were staggering. How so many had been taken in such a short space of time was incredible. Still dressed in now filthy, blood-stained office clothes she drove out of town, simply not knowing where to go.

The crying was done that day. Parked up in the country-side she sobbed and wailed. Beating her fists against the car. The unfairness of it all. The loss of life. The shock of Clarke attacking her. The self-pity was poured out and finished.

The woman that sat in the car sobbing slowly began to feel a change from the self-pity as a knot of anger started to build. Anger that her mother who had worked so hard all her life to raise Paula and should now be enjoying her retirement had suffered such degrading pain. Anger at the years of hard work and dedication not getting her anywhere. Anger at not being taken seriously. But one thing was sure, that feeling at beating Clarke was good.

This event was worldwide; the news reporters said that last night. So it wasn’t just a case of waiting for help. There was no help coming. The end was here and thrust upon her through no fault of her own, and within hours of it starting she had already been humiliated and abused.

Determination settled within Paula, that she wouldn’t allow that to ever happen again, and that feeling of defeating Clarke; it wasn’t the thirst for violence but the sense of victory. Defeating a stronger force by using intelligence and cunning. And the violence didn’t have the effect she thought it would have. She didn’t feel sickened or disgusted by it. It was natural and done from necessity and if she was to survive this, she would have to be prepared to do it again.

One thought evolved into another, processes and images flashing quickly through her mind. An inner strength was forming, one that accepted what had happened and now chose to deal with it.

Her mother was gone, she had seen that first hand. That would also mean the rest of her family was taken too, and probably everyone she had ever known. If any of them were still alive she had no way of contacting them.

Alone she would be vulnerable. Men like Clarke would take whatever opportunity they had to take what they wanted. There was no law anymore, no one to rescue her.

The very thought of being rescued triggered a defiance in her. Why should she need rescuing? She was more than capable of defending herself, not just defending herself but attacking those things and killing them. The more she thought about it the angrier she became. Anger at the years she had spent working so hard and sacrificing so much of her life and for what? So this could happen.

For the next few hours she sat in her car with thoughts pouring through her mind. A realisation formed that was first dismissed as fanciful and stupid; fight back and kill them. It was ridiculous and dangerous. No, what she should do is find somewhere to hide, find other people and have safety in numbers.

But the thought of being with others depressed her soul instantly. What Clarke had done sickened her with disgust. The weeks, months and years being kept on the office floor, the endless comments and being seen as a sexual object, a lesser life form. What Clarke did is the same as what many other men will do given the chance. The feeling of being helpless, the terror that gripped her when Clarke defiled her with his fingers, of being forced to give something that was hers.

The longer she sat there the more she realised she could fight back. She could start killing them. Why run and hide. Be strong and never let anything like that happen again.

In the office her workload was far greater than anyone else’s and she had developed methods of managing that workload, strategies of prioritising and developing coping mechanisms.

When faced with multiple projects that required an enhanced focus she used varying techniques to break the tasks down. What was essential? What was secondary? What were the objectives and the aims? What would she need to carry out those objectives? How would they be done?

The task in front of her was the same as any other; something that needed to be accomplished and with the right planning it could be executed the same as any other project.

As with many other times when faced with a complex situation, she reached for her bag to pull out the notepad and pen.

Tapping the pen against the notepad she thought about Maslow’s hierarchy of needs theory and the five elements that formed his triangle; each one of the elements needing to be fulfilled in order for a person to feel complete in life.

Thinking of the actualisation of the problem in terms of a problem solving exercise started to settle her mind. Viewing herself as a separate entity, someone looking in from the outside.

The first element was physiological, the basic needs for human survival. Breathing, water, food, sex, shelter. Take any of them away and humans die, but that’s as a species and not as an individual. The sex is negated instantly. This plan was not about continuing the species by coupling with the first bloke that came along. This was self-survival so it came down to breathing, water, food and shelter. Breathing was sorted instantly, the contagion didn’t appear to be airborne and the air felt clear. Water and food should be easy, with so much of the population decimated and if she moved quick enough she should be able to gather enough supplies to last a while. Shelter, well in this weather it was more about protection from the elements of the hot weather. Clothes, sun cream and staying hydrated would fix that.

Safety was the next one up in the ever decreasing triangle. She was safe right now. Sat in the car with a clear line of sight all around her but that wasn’t what it was about. There would be no doctors or hospitals now, no ambulances either. If she gets injured she’s on her own. Financial security was out the window so that just left her own personal safety. Which would mean taking whatever precautions possible and risk assessing each threat as she went along. Some risks would have to be taken, that was fact. But with awareness and forward planning; those risks could be minimised.

What was next? She tried to picture the diagram in her mind, was it Love and Belonging or Esteem? Frowning she thought back to her empowerment courses and tried to visualise the image on the screen. Did it matter? Love and Belonging were gone. Devoid. Negated. Obsolete. Fucked up and fucked off. Esteem wasn’t that far behind Love and Belonging either. The only Esteem that could be garnered was by the self; self -esteem and self-respect. She would know if she was failing. Paula’s internal observations, only too quick to berate and chastise would see to that. Whatever was to be done now was for herself. Screw everyone else. This was about her, doing what she wanted.

Now the biggie, the grandiose element she knew was coming, a subconscious longing to get to this one quicker. Self-Actualisation.

‘The desire to accomplish everything one can…’ she intoned the mantra with an ironic smile that it never got her anywhere before. Maybe she was too hungry for success? Too determined to be seen as a human and not just defined as female. If she had relaxed and accepted herself as a woman would that have made a difference? The difficult thoughts were cut off quickly as it promoted an uncomfortable glimpse at her life, that possibly she had taken it too far.

What did she want now? The safety element would have to be taken care off, after that it was down to what she actually wanted. And that was to kill as many of those things as possible. Why? Shaking her head she couldn’t fathom why she wanted to do this, but it was there, and it was strong. A desire, an urge, a need.

Doodling on the page she ran through the hierarchy of needs in her mind and then thought of essential items only. How and where to get them, priorities were established. While thinking she reverted to doodling the same cobweb into the corner of the page, something she had done since her early school days.

That was better. It was written and laid in a rough but logical format. Presented on a page and therefore a plan. It didn’t need an overhead projector or a slideshow. It was basic but it did the job and most importantly, it gave Paula a thing, a real tangible thing that could be stuck to. A plan that needed action.

With a growing sense of resolve she started the drive back into town, avoiding the centre and heading straight for the retail park on the cheaper land to the outskirts.

She felt like she had an advantage over everyone else. They were either at home or out getting drunk, whereas she had seen the outbreak and already made one kill, and that one kill counted for something; it meant she could kill if she had to.

The huge warehouse outlet stores had yet to be looted and the acres of car park were mostly empty. Only one figure moved in the middle of the car park, a shuffling man with blood encrusted round his mouth and open wounds on his bare legs. Slowing down she watched the figure closely; now her decision was made she needed to study the enemy and learn what it was capable off.

The figure had already turned towards her and was now shuffling its way over. The movement was stiff and awkward, the knee joints not bending and forcing the feet to take heavy almost robotic steps. The arms hung loose and the head rolled about almost as if the neck was broken.

Paula waited with the windows closed and the doors locked, her foot down on the clutch, handbrake off, ready to pull away. Her heart rate soared as he staggered closer. She could see the red bloodshot eyes and the drool hanging from his mouth.

What would he do? Would he have a final burst of speed or try and smash the window. Tensed and breathing hard she forced herself to wait, gripping the steering wheel as she held the car on the biting point.

Giving a gasp as it walked into the side of the car she watched the awful face for long seconds as it pressed against the window, smearing blood and filth over the glass. It had no control over his hands and made no attempt to open the door or smash the glass, but instead just kept trying to walk into the side of the car.

She pulled away and turned in a long slow loop to face the thing. It turned and started the slow shuffle. Paula fixed her eyes on it and revved the engine, waiting for a few seconds before forcing her foot to the floor. The car went off like a rocket, gathering speed as she changed up the gears. At the last second an image of a television documentary filled her head, of the crash test dummies being run over and going straight through the windscreen into the driver. With a scream she hit the brakes and jammed the wheel over slewing the car to the side. The passenger wing mirror clipped the man with a loud thunk, smashing the plastic casing apart and sending him spinning off to sprawl on the ground.

Without hesitation she ran it over. Gathering enough speed to force the low car over the obstacle. She expected a feeling of guilt to course through her, that her mind would tell her  she had just murdered someone. Instead she felt nothing other than an enhanced feeling of security that it was dead and therefore the threat was negated.

She had to use the mini again, this time to ram the glass doors of outdoor equipment retailer. Reversing out from the wreckage she winced at the alarm wailing into the near silent air, cursing herself for not thinking of it in advance.

It meant she would have to rush now. She burst out of the car and sprinted through the destruction of the doors. Straight to the clothing section she filled her arms with trousers, tops, waterproof jackets, vest tops and socks. Back to the vehicle and she dumped everything into the boot, leaving it open she ran back inside. At the far end she spotted the rugged boots all displayed on little plastic shelves fitted to the display unit. Checking the boxes beneath the boots she grabbed several her size and again ran back to ditch them in the car.

The alarm screamed at her with an indignant and petrified wail. The alarm sent a message to the empty alarm company control room, in turn that activated an automated call to the equally empty police control room but that was it. A noise and a meaningless signal that no one would ever see.

With clothes and boots sorted she darted back in and grabbed a rucksack from the display, working quickly to remove the paper filler she went round the display units, ramming torches, lanterns, flasks, water bottles and multi-tools into the bag. A whole box of high energy chocolate bars on the counter, more multi-tools, more socks. The bag was filled up so she grabbed another larger one and stuffed it with camping stoves, small gas bottles, mini pots and pans.

Like a supermarket dash with the countdown timer on, frantic but focussed and refusing to let the constant warble of the alarm make her panic.

The knife display unit was impressive, a whole range of deadly looking commando style knives, straight edged, curved blades, serrated with camouflage grips and leather scabbards. The locked cabinet was prised open and several knives taken along with sheaths.

Each trip outside she checked the surrounding view, nothing moving, no running figures so she kept going, taking advantage of the lack of response and interest. Slowly the mini was filled with kit, clothing and equipment. After several trips she noticed figures in the distance shuffling across the car park, distinct movement with the same stiff legged walk.

She’d gained enough to fill the mini completely, jamming the boot and the back seat high with goods. From the retail park she went back into the countryside and found another isolated spot to stash the gear before heading back into town.

Having already seen the devastation of the town centre she stuck to the outer ring roads. Signs of looting began to appear, especially the shops near the housing estates. The windows smashed in and doors ripped off, debris everywhere, more disconcerting were the amount of bodies littering the streets and the large pools of blood smeared across parked cars, along garden fences and stark against white UPVC front doors.

The second store she checked was on the far edge of town; one of the small expensive individually owned supermarkets. The front door was smashed open but no sign of movement. She left the car outside, pocketed the key and ran in with one of the sheathed commando knives stuffed into the back of the business pencil skirt she still wore.

Whoever had gained access had gone straight for the booze aisle, large empty sections showing where the spirits bottles once were and the shutters on the cigarette display had been forced open.  Crates of beer and cider stacked to the side of the counter were laying on the floor, evidently knocked over by the rushing looters.

Paula moved quickly, taking a small trolley she headed straight into the tinned goods aisle, filling the trolley with everything she could grab.

Outside she worked just as fast, sweat dripping from her brow as she scooped the tins out to be thrown into the back of the car.

Running back inside with the trolley she went back for the tinned foods, then into the toiletries to take shampoo, wet wipes, soap, anti-bacterial gel, toothbrushes and toothpaste, mouthwash. Everything she would need to stay clean and healthy. Packets of multi-vitamins, long life and powdered milk, bags of sugar.

On the third trip she rushed to the chilled section, taking cheeses and bottles of fruit juice. Intent on her work she failed to hear the new arrival until the voice spoke, a quavering fear filled voice of a man.

‘Hello,’ a simple greeting but it jarred her senses, making her spin round as though expecting an instant attack. Instead there was a young man, early twenties and very thin. He was holding the hand of a young girl with long brown hair. She looked five or six years old and was as terrified as the man.

‘Do you know what’s happening?’ The man asked his eyes were wide and filled with tears, clutching the little girls hand as though to draw strength from her instead of offering her a protective embrace.

Paula examined the two figures, wondering why they were out in this; if it was food they wanted they should get it and go.

‘The phones are down, telly ain’t working…her mum was working nights in a care home and she ain’t come back yet, there’s like,’ he paused, fighting back tears, ‘bodies and stuff everywhere.’

Paula looked down at the trolley, deciding she’d got enough and it was time to leave, ‘Didn’t you see anything last night?’ She asked.

‘Last night? No, I put little ‘un to bed and played Xbox for a few hours, why? What’s happened?’

‘Disease, it’s worldwide, people are biting each other and…’ she looked down at the little girl, re-phrasing what she was about to say, ‘well, those that get bit then want to bite other people…it’s everywhere.’ She started pushing the trolley towards the door, wanting to get away as quick as possible.

‘Oh,’ the man replied, he looked dumbstruck and confused.

‘Get what food you can and find somewhere safe to hide,’ Paula pushed the trolley past them, staring ahead to make it clear the conversation was over.

‘What about the police?’

‘There is no police,’ Paula called back, ‘no nothing, all gone, you shouldn’t be out here with your daughter, find somewhere and hide.’

‘She ain't my daughter, I’m going out with her mum…I was babysitting so she could work…who do I call?’

‘There isn’t anyone to call,’ Paula shouted back as she reached the car and started loading the goods into the back, the man followed her out, standing there quietly watching her.

‘What…what you doing then?’ He said at length.

‘Leaving town,’ Paula lied.

‘Got a car then,’ he made the loaded statement while looking at the mini.

Paula glanced at the man and nodded curtly, slamming the boot down and using her foot to push the trolley away.

‘You got somewhere safe then?’ He asked softly, clearly building up to asking if they could go with her.

‘I’ve got to go,’ Paula replied, ‘get food and stay off the streets, it isn’t safe.’ She climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door closed, starting the engine and pulling away before he could ask.

The man and child stood there watching her go, hand in hand, forlorn and lost. It was heart-breaking to think the girl’s mum was gone and she was left alone with a man she might hardly know. She forced herself to push the thoughts away and focussed on the plan.

So far so good, she’d done well with supplies and equipment. That just left two things; vehicle and weapons. Do it now while you’ve got momentum and everyone is in shock. Strike quickly and get prepared.

She felt exhausted, utterly drained from being up all the previous day and then the night too. The adrenalin had worn off, leaving her feeling weak. It was hot too, sticky with no fresh air.

It didn’t take long to find a vehicle. She saw plenty that would do the job but they were parked up locked and secure. She needed one from a driveway but that meant going into the house for the keys, the risk was worth taking if it meant having a robust vehicle capable of carrying everything and big enough to be used as a weapon.

Parked up a few doors down in the quiet residential street she stared at the big black four wheel drive vehicle.  A Japanese made thing with a double cab and an enclosed pick-up truck on the back, tinted windows, big solid looking tyres and those oversized bull bars in front of the engine, solid and reliable. This street had clearly seen some action judging by the bodies littering the area and the vehicle was parked on a driveway of a house with the front door hanging open.

No movement anywhere, with the windows down she listened intently; taking a few minutes to relax and get used to the normal background noises which consisted of the odd bird chirp. The air was still and listless, no breeze that rustled the trees, no traffic noise either. Scanning the houses she looked at each window and door in turn trying to detect any movement.

If she was going to do this it had to be quick and ruthless. That meant being prepared to attack and not just defend. If there were survivors inside she would flee and find another one, no conversation, no stalling, just turn and run.

She checked the route to the house; out the mini, down the pavement, into the driveway and up the path to the front door. No apparent obstacles and maybe a ten or fifteen second sprint, twenty at the very most.

Where would the keys be? Biting her bottom lip she tried to figure out a way of finding them. The four wheel drive was shiny and clean, the big alloy wheels gleaming in the sun. The grass of the front garden was cut short and the flower beds well-tended. No rubbish stacked outside either. That all suggested a clean and orderly household, in turn that meant the people living there would have orderly minds. So the keys would be kept in one place, probably on a hook near to the front door, in the hallway or the kitchen. Nodding to herself she thought of how she always went into the kitchen first when she got home to put her mini keys into the bowl and flick the kettle on. Thinking back she remembered her mother doing the same and they were both clean living and orderly people.

Checking the knife was still wedged into the top of her skirt she pursed her lips that she hadn’t taken the time to put some better clothes on, instead of running about in her work clothes and flat office shoes.

Out of the car she left the door pushed in but not shut, just in case she needed a quick escape. One final check around, all clear. She sprinted down the pavement and into the driveway, heading up the path and pausing briefly at the front door. Eyes staring into the slight gap, moving side to side to increase her view of the inside.

No noise, no movement. She was committed so no time to dwell now. She pushed the door open and stepped in. A quick scan showed her a minimalistic hallway with wooden floors. One unit to the side with a telephone and some papers. No keys. Down the hallway into the kitchen, the row of hooks were next to the fridge. She grabbed the set with the Nissan logo and was back outside within a few seconds, pressing the clicker to unlock the doors.

Inside she didn’t wait to adjust the seat or wing mirrors but got the engine running and reversed out, leaning forward and using the steering wheel to hold herself up as the seat was too low.

Driving away she allowed herself a quick grin at a perfectly executed mission, her right hand dropping down to find the lever to jack the seat up higher. Slamming the brakes on her feeling of victory soured instantly as she realised the mini still had all the food and goods from the supermarket in it. All that planning and she messed up, cursing herself, angry that she had failed to account for something and refusing to allow herself room for error, even considering how long she had been awake, the lack of food, the danger and tension she faced. It wasn’t good enough.

Turning the vehicle round she went back down the road, crawling along slowly as she again scanned the houses, windows, doors. Pulling up next to the mini she burst out and started transferring all the goods, launching them into the rear seats of the new vehicle.

With a flushed and sweating face, her now filthy blouse clinging to her body and loose strands of hair glued to her forehead she got it finished, remembering to grab her bag before climbing back into the four wheel drive.

Breathing deeply, trying to calm herself down she worked her way out the town back to the stash point. Adrenalin was still high from the action of taking the vehicle, hands trembling and her legs felt rubbery and weak. She needed rest and water, knowing that her senses and intelligence would be slowed if she didn’t get it soon.

Suddenly the stash point didn’t feel so safe. A gravel car park at the edge of a wooded copse, used by dog walkers in the day and god knows who else at night. It was enclosed and oppressive. Paula grabbed her equipment and stuffed it into the rear enclosed pick-up section of the vehicle, the back door split into two halves with one door rising up and the tail gate dropping down.

Once loaded she again drove on, thinking that she needed high ground where she had a view of all sides, somewhere she could sort through her new supplies and get organised.

She found a field with an open gate, the land rising gently to a crest at the far end. Perfect. The hard backed ground was easy to drive over with the big wheels.

Once stopped she grabbed her list, checking through it and mentally ticking each item off. Food and water done, equipment and clothes done, tin opener done, boots done. Shit, no hair bands! That shouldn’t be too difficult to do. The vehicle was good and had nearly a full tank of fuel.

That just left weapons. The knives were good but could only be really used as personal defence and it meant getting close too. She needed guns but this was England and the only people that had guns were the police, the army, farmers and gangsters.

Gangsters were ruled out instantly simply for not knowing where they would be, she didn’t even know if her town had gangsters, probably just the cities.

Farmers were an option but they were generally isolated so the chances are they may not be affected by what’s happened, which also meant they were unlikely to give up their shotguns.

That left police and army. Paula had no idea where any army bases were or where they kept the guns. But the police, they had guns. Her local station was the divisional headquarters and had the armed response vehicle running from it, everyone knew that as it was a big thing a few years ago when the local force started routinely arming those officers, and the sight of British bobbies walking about with pistols was very strange. But only a few were firearms officers which meant they would only have a few weapons and those officers probably wouldn’t want to give their guns up either.

Still, it was the best and most feasible option, other than ram-raiding a gunsmith shop but she figured everyone else would have gone for them as soon as possible.

She needed sleep but there wasn’t time. She had to keep the momentum going, get prepared now and sleep later. This might be the only chance before other survivors start coming out and trying to do the same things.

Moving to the back of the vehicle she started going through the clothes to get changed then stopped. That man with the child was happy to speak with her and obviously didn’t see her as any kind of threat; the clothing did make her look safe and professional. Even bedraggled like this she looks like anyone should look after going through a night like that. Getting changed into black clothes could make her look aggressive or appear in another light, especially if she was going anywhere near a police station.

Decision made, options weighed and she got back into the vehicle and once more headed into town, again chastising herself for not going straight there and getting it done. All of this messing about just wasted time and slowly lost whatever advantage she felt she had.

The police station was near the centre of town, just enough distance away to be slightly safer than the actual dead centre.

How would she do this? There must be an armoury or something inside the station, but it would be locked with keys, or even a numbered keypad that stored the access times for audit trails. This wouldn’t be easy, and that was even considering the fact that the station would be empty. There was every chance they were still inside, fortifying the building. What would she do if they asked her to join them? The answer was instant. No, no way. The thought of being near others, having to rely on other people sent a surge of anger through her.

From the outer roads she worked back towards the centre, trying to use quieter side streets wherever possible and contravening one way restrictions to make the route quicker.

Two streets to go, she turned a corner and immediately cursed audibly at the large group of figures shuffling around in the middle of the road. The route was blocked and the road narrow, cars parked on both sides meant she couldn’t mount the pavement.

But she was in a big vehicle now, maybe she could just plough through them. Paula inched closer to the group, examining the numbers and depth of the horde. Too many, she’d get through but at a risk of getting bogged down or causing damage to the vehicle. The risk was calculated, the threat assessed and a decision made that it wouldn’t be the right thing to do.

Bringing the vehicle to a stop, she tutted and moved the gear stick into reverse, annoyed at the delay. Something in the crowd caught her eye. The things were all in a state of undress, clearly roused from their houses and beds when it all happened, rushing out in night clothes to see what was going on. One of them was fully dressed and that was what caught her eye. A figure dressed all in black, he was tall and well-built too. She paused and stared at the crowd, leaning left and right to try and get a view but too many of the things were between her and the figure.

Opening the door she stood on the step, using the roof and door frame to hold herself steady. The horde had already turned and were shuffling towards her, a collection of injuries, wounds, gaping holes, blood stained clothes and bare skin. But there, yes there…deep in the middle it was a policeman dressed in black uniform and he was still wearing the stab vest and belt round his waist.

Paula stretched higher, leaning as she tried to get a better view of him. His face had been bitten away from a savage attack, his nose pretty much removed to leave a ragged wound.

She still couldn’t see his waist clearly. Was he a firearms officer? She jumped down and used the front driver’s wheel to clamber onto the sun heated black bonnet, then up onto the roof of the vehicle. Shielding her eyes she moved left and right, waiting for him to shuffle into view. A fat old woman was shuffling in front of him, her wide hips and broad back wobbling in the way.

They were getting close, too close for comfort. She would have to go, giving herself one more chance she went to the far right of the roof, straining on her tiptoes to see the copper. The fat woman wobbled to the left, then back to the right. The stiff legged walk making her swollen upper body sway like a pendulum. As she went to the right Paula glimpsed the belt and butt of a handgun poking from a holster on his hip.

She jumped down onto the bonnet and slid to the ground, climbing back into the vehicle and quickly reversing down the street, buying herself time to think. Brilliant fortune at finding an armed police officer, but then they were only a street or two away from the station, but now faced with the difficulty of actually getting to him.

There was no choice, she would have to use the vehicle to shunt them over a few at a time. Selecting first gear she started forward, crawling along until just a few metres away from the front of the horde. At the last second she pushed her foot down, giving the vehicle a burst of speed and stamping on the brake as she hit the small cluster at the front.

The power of the vehicle, the bull bars and the act of braking hard sent them flying backwards, in turn knocking more over. She reversed a few metres then did it again, aiming slightly to the left this time.

Back and forth she went, changing path each time and running them over with loud thunks as they impacted on the front of the vehicle. Some got back up, others tried and some were trampled underfoot by the undead walking over them.

Bit by bit she got the first lot down, using the big wheels to drive over individual bodies and crushing them into the road. The fat lady was next, the copper behind her and then a load behind him.

Paula over-compensated for the size of the woman, going too fast into her. She smacked into the front of the vehicle with a loud bang, the jarring action causing her head to smash down on the bottom, busting her nose open. Braking hard again the fat lady flew backwards, acting like a giant bowling ball and taking out several more behind her. The copper being one of them.

Paula saw the gap created and was out of the vehicle before she had time to think. Pulling the knife free from the sheath she jumped over the fallen writhing bodies and went straight for the policeman. He was flat out, facing down but still moving. Getting to him she started trying to pull the gun free from the holster, tugging at the handle. The safety clip had some kind of sliding action to prevent something like this happening, making it very difficult for anyone to grasp the gun and pull it free.

The policeman groaned louder at the feel of the woman touching him, rolling onto his back and sitting up in one fast movement causing Paula to jump back.

One behind her coming in with lips pulled back showing dirty blood stained teeth. Instinct kicked in and she thrust the knife out, driving the sharp point deep into the stomach. The thing didn’t flinch but kept coming. She stabbed again and again but no reaction, blood pumping out but he kept coming. She went for the throat, driving the long blade into the soft tissue before ripping the knife out. Blood sprayed out, just missing her as she stepped to the side. It did the trick and within a couple of steps he was stumbling and falling to the floor.

Groans all around her, they were closing in and despite their slow movements it would only take seconds to surround her.

Already, some of the ones she had run down were back in their feet, blocking her way back to the vehicle. Spinning round she saw the policeman was getting to his feet unsteadily, she stabbed out, hacking into his neck, the sharp blade cutting deep and easy. Blood sprayed out as he fell back, arcing the crimson liquid high into the air. She went for the gun again, fumbling with one hand to try and release the clip. It wouldn’t budge and she could feel panic rising in her.

Close movement, a loud groan she jumped over the body of the policeman, landing on the other side of him as a woman lunged, tripping over the copper’s legs and sprawling out.

Paula cursed angrily that she allowed herself to get caught like this. She tried for the gun again, working the safety clip back and forth while trying to prise it open. It wouldn’t budge, the bloody thing refused to yield.

The belt. She looked at the middle of the utility belt, a thick leather belt with a double fastener in the middle. Far easier. Stamping her foot down on the coppers groin for leverage she yanked the end of the belt out and pulled it over, releasing the two metal prongs holding it in place before trying to tug the belt free.

‘FUCK OFF,’ she yelled at the naked man shuffling up close behind her. With a violent movement she turned and stuck the knife deep into his throat, using her office shoe clad foot to push him away.

Grasping the belt she tried pulling it away, belt clips held it in place. She pulled harder, stamping her foot down on the coppers stab jacket. The clips released and she pulled the belt free, tugging furiously as the hand cuffs and other bits got stuck underneath him.

Another stab out into another throat, another violent tug and finally the belt was in her hands, free from the policeman. Now the path back to the vehicle was blocked the ones behind were closing in.

She ran to the side, clambering over a car bonnet onto the narrow pavement, running down the street and away from her vehicle. As one, the horde shuffled round and started heading towards her. She kept them coming while checking all around for any others that might be lurking about.

It took a few minutes but finally there was enough of a gap for her, taking advantage of it she sprinted up the pavement, the skirt hampering her movements and preventing her stride from opening fully. She tried tugging it up but holding the knife and belt and trying to tug a skirt up while running down a pavement and being chased by flesh eating zombies was all too much for even her advanced multi-tasking skills.

Through the gap between the cars and into her vehicle. Engine on and reversing back and away from the horde. Breathing hard she reached the junction and backed into it, getting ready to turn away.

Lifting the belt from the passenger seat she realised now how heavy it was from all the equipment they had to carry, no wonder they couldn’t chase anyone anymore.

A set of keys jangled from a clip to the front of the belt, a big Volvo motif on the front. He must have been an armed response officer, if he has the keys with him then the police car must be nearby. But the station is only down the road so maybe he ran here when he heard the commotion and left the car behind. She scanned the area, searching for a marked police car.

Must be at the station. She drove off, taking a longer route to bypass the blocked street. In the police station road she slowed down, inching along as she again viewed the houses, windows and doors. It was the same here as most other places. Bodies lying about, doors open, some windows smashed and blood everywhere. So close to the station too.

She pulled alongside the entrance to the police station yard, peering through the open metal gates to the interior. Several marked police cars were parked up but no sign of movement. She leant out the window and pressed the clicker on the set of Volvo keys, hearing a clear thunk from inside the yard.

Again, with a snap decision she was out of the vehicle and running inside, pressing the clicker again and again and following the noise and flashes of indicators to the big high performance police car.

There it was, in the middle section of the back seat was a large metal box with an opening flap at the front. The gun box that was used to keep the bigger guns inside. That’s what she wanted. Ammunition and bigger guns.

Inside the vehicle she worked the separate keys on the set until finding the right one that opened the gun box. Pulling the metal door up she was faced with the stock of a black coloured police sub machine gun. She’d seen them on television many times, and held by police officers outside courts and at airports too.

She pulled it out and grabbed the magazines of ammunition, holding them in her arms before sprinting back to her own vehicle, dumping them all on the passenger seat and quickly driving off.

Ten minutes later she was back out into the country lanes, hardly believing that she’d done it. She’d got everything she set out for, equipment, food, water, a vehicle and now guns. She had no idea how to use them but she would learn and figure it out, like everyone else she had seen enough action movies and cop drama’s to have a basic idea.

She felt satisfied and a rare feeling of pride, that she had formed a daring plan and executed it to almost perfection. And already she had killed several of the things, and she’d done it without hesitation, and learnt that stabbing them repeatedly in the stomach didn’t work but stabbing them in the neck did work.

Shit. Forgot the bloody hairbands again.

Damn it.

Now, eleven days on and picking her way tentatively through the charred remains she thinks back over those long days and nights. And how now, the plan was almost complete. The town was almost completely rid.

Starting slowly she had picked them off one at a time. Driving round to find single undead shuffling in the hot summer day. The first few had simply been run over. Killed by the big four wheel drive.

At night she drove back out of town, deep into the countryside and slept in the driver’s seat, ready to turn the engine on and drive away. The next day she went back into the town. Continuing the hunt. Mowing them down in couples and groups. That progressed to using weapons, finding equipment stores. Bows and arrows were tried and tested, but the skill required was too high. She used crossbows for a day, getting better and better at achieving head shots but she soon tired of the constant strain of drawing the string back.

Firebombs made from bottles and petrol soaked rags were used. They were effective but the numbers were too small.

As the days went on, so she developed, honing skills and getting experienced. She saw the change that came over them at night and made it a priority to be away into the country-side, finding a different place each night to park up and rest.

She also sensed the change as the days went on. How they seemed to be targeting her. Whole groups of them following her every move. When they started chasing her in the daylight she knew she was getting to them. That feeling of being taken seriously was addictive. Staying one step ahead while cutting them down in huge numbers.

They got worse, increasing their level of aggression and violence towards her. She matched them in every way. Using cunning and intelligence to lure them into traps.

And this one. This was the best by far. The razor wire had worked brilliantly, the broken glass was okay but not effective enough, but the fire…the fire was awesome.

He wasn’t here though. She hadn’t seen him at the front and although they were badly burnt she was sure he wasn’t here. A creeping sense comes over here as she makes her way through the bodies, taking care to avoid the lethal wire stretched between them.

He wouldn’t stay in the middle. He hadn’t before so why now? No, he wasn’t here. She’d know it if he was.

She stops and stares down the road. Knowing he’s there. Knowing he’s watching. Movement in the shadows. Definite movement. A figure walking forwards. More figures behind it.

Him. It was him. He was coming down the road with another horde. He knew there would be a trap and sacrificed the first lot to clear the path.

He couldn’t have many left now. The numbers she’d cut down were too vast for him to have many left.

The last four days had seen the greatest game of cat and mouse ever played. An intelligent infected that sent wave after wave of undead after her. Always there, always watching. She’d almost come to respect him. Seeing his familiar form every day gave her a sense of re-assurance.

She’d even worried one of the days when she hadn’t seen him until the afternoon. Not worried for him but concerned that something else had taken away her right of victory. He was hers. Hers for defeating.

Trap and counter trap had been left. Fires, explosions, trip wires, shotguns, crossbows, gas canisters. They’d all been deployed with great effect. Nearly every street showed signs of the battles as she took them down again and again.

Hand to hand combat had been avoided where-ever possible.

She knew tonight would be it. One of them was going to lose and she’d planned long and hard for it not to be her.

He was a normal looking guy, apart from the obvious signs of decay and deathly pallor, average height, average build, short brown hair. But he was her nemesis. She dreamt about him. Every minute of every day was taken up with thinking how to end him.

She backs away, lifting her feet high as she goes. He comes in, moving at a steady pace. Getting closer she can make out the horde with him. She was right, not too many of them. But it looked like he had saved the best for last, big strong looking males.

That was alright. The bigger they come and all that. She wasn’t going to be cowed by the males of the species anymore. This was a new time with new rules.

‘Good work,’ he shouts down the road, his voice clear. He seldom spoke and when he did it was only ever to praise her for taking down large numbers.

‘Thanks,’ she yells back, still stepping high.

‘You planned it well.’

‘I did,’ she agrees with him. At least he gives recognition of a job well done, which is more than any of her other bosses ever did.

He stops walking, holding a respectable distance between them. She stops too, staring over the bodies as he stands there with his arms held casually at his sides.

‘You must be proud,’ he calls out, ‘one woman against so many, you’ve done well.’ His voice isn’t goading but respectful and calm.

‘Thank you, I would say the same back but…’

‘Ha!’ He laughs, ‘no, I really haven’t done so well.’

‘No.’

‘It’s almost a shame this has to end, but…’

‘It does have to end,’ she finishes his sentence for him.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Paula, and yours?’

‘Thomas.’

‘What did you do before this?’

‘Accountant, what about you?’

‘I ran a legal advisory service, for what’s it worth…I could have done with someone like you in my company, you would have gone far.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Listen Paula, we will take you tonight…but…’

‘Confident then?’ She interrupts him.

He laughs, a nice sound that drifts across the empty air, ‘very…we will win Paula, but when we do, know that it’s with respect and you’ll be alongside me.’

‘I would look forward to it…but…you won’t be winning.’

‘No?’

‘No Thomas, not a hope in hell.’

‘I love it! I love your confidence…I wish I had known you before all this.’

‘Maybe,’ she shrugs.

‘Were you married?’

‘No, single, I worked too much.’

‘Ah, let me guess…an all-male office, passed over for promotion…my firm dealt with companies like yours all the time.’

‘Something like that.’

‘It figures, I wasn’t married, never settled down either…what could have been.’

‘What could have been,’ she repeats.

‘Another world.’

‘Another time.’

‘New rules.’

‘New rules,’ she nods back.

‘Well, I don’t suppose I can persuade you to give up?’

‘I was going to ask you that, give you a chance to surrender now.’

‘And then what?’

‘Then I kill you,’ she smiles.

‘In that case, forgive me if I don’t surrender.’

‘Okay.’

‘I would love to shake your hand before we…’

‘Thomas, in truth…I would like that too, but it isn’t going to happen.’

‘Tom, please…just Tom.’

‘Are we on a date now?’ Paula laughs.

He chuckles clearly, ‘I wish,’ he mutters, ‘you are very beautiful.’

‘Thank you,’ she takes the compliment with grace.

‘You’ve still got those guns.’

‘I have.’

‘Why have you never taken a shot at me? You’ve had chances.’

‘Didn’t seem right, not like that…’

‘And now? You could take a shot…you never know, you might get me.’

‘True, I could…but where would the fun be in that?’

‘Ha,’ he laughs again, ‘so what now?’

‘I run, you chase.’

‘You like being chased?’

‘Are you flirting with me Tom?’

‘I hope it’s me that gets to turn you.’

‘Do you now?’

‘One thing before we start, if it happens…no…when it happens, don’t fight it. It hurts more, just relax and let it take you.’

‘What does it feel like?’

‘Turning hurts, really hurts…you get a really bad pain in your stomach and the more you tense the worse it gets. Coming back is amazing, I’ve never felt so…so alive and, I don’t know….full of energy and vitality.’

‘Something to look forward to then?’

‘I know you won’t but please Paula, just give up…let me take you easily.’

‘No, thank you but no.’

‘Okay, but when it happens I will be there, I’ll do what I can to ease your turning.’

‘I appreciate that, but…I don’t want to come back, I don’t want to be one of them…if any of this means anything to you…if anything you just said is true then if you get me, kill me outright…don’t let me come back.’

He pauses, nodding while she speaks, ‘okay,’ he replies in a serious tone, ‘I will honour that.’

‘Thank you…I’d best start running then.’

‘Yep, I’d best start chasing.’

‘Bye Tom.’

‘Bye Paula, good luck.’

‘You too.’

She steps free of the last body and starts moving backwards, staring at Tom as he gives her a sporting chance, holding back for a few seconds. A tiny flick of his hand and his horde start running. She’s off, sprinting towards the door. Howling from behind her as the undead are finally unleashed. They can scent her, smell the perfume on her. They can smell her body and the piss she left on the road, but not fear. This woman doesn't exude fear.

A few go down, tripped and snagged on the razor wire, cutting hands open on the broken glass but none of the injuries are enough to stop them.

Paula reaches the door in plenty of time, pausing to look back and watch as the first undead clear the end of the bodies.

Stepping inside she slams the door closed behind her, working at the bolt locks at the top and bottom. Having already tested them she found they were rusted and sticking. A can of spray lubricant and a hammer fixed that problem.

Bolts rammed home she turns the big key in the middle lock and moves into the wide open space. A warehouse by design, and plans had been submitted for developers to turn the old fashioned brick building into modern mews style up-market apartments that could be sold on to idiots with more money than sense. Idiots who found living in exposed brick former warehouses exciting and edgy. Taking the thin torch from her pocket she presses the end button to illuminate the ground around her. Treading carefully she steps over the trip wires fixed between the thick wooden support posts and moves towards the stairs in the middle. At the base of the stairs she purposefully kicks one of the buckets over, sending thousands of small steel ball bearings over the ground. The next bucket adds several more thousand. Covering the ground between the stairs in a nice layer of bearings.

She listens to the battering at the door, waiting for the first bolt to break. The wooden door splinters. The sound of wood tearing. On the first step and still she waits. At the last second, as the door gives she pushes the on button for the two high powered torches on the second step. Perfectly angled so the bright white beams are focussed at head height. The first undead forces through the broken door. His hands immediately covering his eyes from the harsh light, others push him in, jabbing him out the way. They too get dazzled by the sudden light, looking down but still running forward.

Paula bursts out laughing as the first one goes down, losing traction from the bearings sliding underfoot. He goes over like a comedy performer, windmilling his arms then landing painfully on his face. The next one trips over the downed body, going over in a heap. More run in, slipping and sliding in all directions.

Paula laughs harder, delighted at the impact the bearings are having. The fallen bodies scatter the bearings, clearing a partial route. Undead surge forward, hitting the trip wire that tips the buckets of dirty used engine oil down. The filthy sticky contents shower down onto the heads of the first two, covering their faces and bodies in the slimy foul gunk.

Other veer round them, triggering more trip wires and more buckets of oil that plummet down. Tears of laughter pour down Paula’s face from the sight of the undead covered from head to toe in oil. They slip, trip and fall. Staggering all over the floor.

First step, second, third, step over the fourth and onto the fifth. She races up ahead, again holding at the top, unable to stop herself from watching.

The first undead reaches the bottom and starts powering up, howling with ferocious rage. He hits the fourth step, the fourth step that isn’t there and is covered in a thin layer of cardboard. His legs plummets into the hole, impaled on the sharpened stakes put underneath it. With his body blocking the stairs the others have to beat him out the way to pass. Using his head as a step.

Paula runs through, onto the first floor and round the corner, heading for the second flight of stairs at the far end. Torch light bobs as she goes, picking out the sharp nail ends hammered through the planks laid down.

At the next flight she again pauses, just long enough for the first one to reach the top of the first stairs and see her torch.

Powering on she races up the second flight, listening to the howls as the undead step onto the nails. Thumps sounding out as they fall down heavily.

At the top she stops, shining her torch at the length of wood propped between the wooden door and the frame, holding the door open. She goes low, crawling very carefully under the piece of wood. On the other side she grasps the string attached to the wood and moves away.

Before the first one reaches the top she shines her torch up, checking the elastic bungee cord attached to the inside of the door and stretched across the top of the stairs to the wall on the other side, is still in place. She’d practised this again and again, winding the bungee tighter and tighter until it slammed the door closed once the wood was removed. Only when she was sure she had the correct tautness did she drive the long bladed knives through the door, the sharp points poking several inches clear on the inside.

Holding the string she plays it out as she works her way carefully along the room. Thudding of feet on stairs, she holds the torch up, waiting for the first body to appear. When it does she holds that second longer, waiting for it to take a step towards her. Paula yanks the string, pulling the wood away. The door slams shut as the undead runs through. Instantly impaling the body on the knife points.

‘Yes, COME ON,’ she screams in triumph. Perfect, bloody perfect. Howls and roars rip through the building, screams of frustration at being slowed down from their prey.

The final flight of stairs and Paula grips the torch between her teeth, placing her feet on the plinths either side of the steps. Using the handrail she quickly climbs up, shuffling her feet along the plinths to avoid using the actual steps. Each one with a nice surprise waiting. The first step covered in grease, making it nice and slippery. The second with broad headed nails upturned. Anything she could find went onto those steps, broken glass, another one covered in the bearings.

At the top she spins round, turning on another two high powered spot lights and waiting for the first to arrive and loving every minute. She grasps the first homemade spear, just a length of round wood with a small sharp knife taped to the end. With a grunt she launches the spear down as the first body comes into view. It hits central mass, just an annoyance more than anything but enough of a distraction for the undead to slip on the first step. It’s face landing on the broken glass of the third step.

More behind it, trampling the first one down. She launches spear after spear, stabbing them backwards. A bowling ball gets launched down, heavy rocks, stones and bottles. They slip backwards, cutting themselves to ribbons, slipping on the bearings to tumble back into the press of bodies behind them.

Paula hears Tom roaring from in the building, his voice now very aggressive. More missiles get launched down, house bricks, breeze blocks, then larger items; chairs, tables, tool boxes, step ladders. Anything to slow them down and cause misery.

Everything works perfectly. The stairs become clogged as the undead at the front can’t fight their way through the constant barrage, and unable to go back due to the press behind them.

‘COME ON,’ Paula screams, letting her rage go.

Her efforts slow them down but they don’t stop them. Still they come on, utterly fixated with taking her down.

She runs through the top door out onto the flat roof and the sticky hot night air. She slams the door closed and rams the locks home. Knowing the thin door will give easily she moves quickly. Making the final preparations.

At the edge of the building several thick planks stretched across the void to the flat roof of the next building forming a bridge. She looks down at the three storey drop and moves into place.

The door starts being battered from within, when it gives the undead pour through with unfettered rage. Seeing Paula at the far side of the next flat roof they race to the edge and start across the planks. A few topple off and fall, unable to use enough fine motor skills to negotiate the narrow walkway.

Tom runs through the broken door, consumed with the chase. All thoughts of respect gone from watching the last of his horde being ripped to shreds by trap after trap. He’ll rip her apart, kill her slowly and enjoy every second of it. There she is, trapped on the other flat roof with no escape route left. The cocky bitch assumed the traps would kill them off.

He reaches the planks, starting across and leaping off. It’s only when he takes his first few steps onto the new roof that he realises Paula would have never left the planks there. She would have pushed them away.

He stops dead, spinning round with a roar, bellowing at the last two undead to get back off the planks. They stop mid-way, trying to negotiate the tricky act of turning round.

Tom screams with rage at the sight of Paula running from behind the broken door on the first flat roof. She reaches the planks and heaves the ends. The first plank goes, slipping from the edge to tumble down, clattering to the ground. The two undead balance precariously on the remaining planks. Paula heaves on them as they start back across towards her. She pushes with every ounce of strength, another one slips from the edge just as the first one leaps onto the roof. The second undead tries to leap but finds the plank he’s standing on is no longer there, he plummets down with a long howl that only ends when his body impacts on the ground.

Paula spins round, drawing the pistol as she goes. The undead has gained his feet and is coming at her with a snarl. She fires, repeatedly pulling the trigger. The loud cracks sounding out clearly in the still air. The undead gets driven backwards from the power of the rounds. Paula runs at him, screaming with fury. She pushes the end of the gun under his chin and pulls the trigger one last time, blowing the back of his skull off.

As the body slumps down she spins to face the other roof, at the remaining horde now stood at the edge watching her. The mannequin dressed in similar clothes and left at the far end now kicked over in anger.

Breathing heavily, chest heaving and a determined glint in her eye she stares across at the horde. At Tom as he glances down at his feet. He lifts a foot up and looks down, sniffing and casting about.

Realisation hits him as Paula uses a lighter to ignite the material poking out the top of the bottle of petrol.

She pauses, just long enough for the wick to flame up. Without a word she launches the bottle high, watching as it sails through the air, coming down on the other side with a smash. The wick ignites the fuel, the fuel ignites the other fuel. The other fuel that was poured across the roof.

‘I WIN,’ Paula bellows across the gap as the flames take hold, spreading quickly across the entire flat roof.

The undead move about, unable to go anywhere. They start attacking the door, trying to fight their way through and away from the flames.

Seven P’s. Paula had already chained the door closed, using big padlocks and thick chains. It would several men with sledgehammers over ten minutes to beat that door down.

She lights another bottle and sends it over, then another. Each one sailing through the air to smash on the ground. The contents just add to already high blaze taking hold.

Paula looks down at the remaining bottles. She didn’t know how much of the fuel would dry and evaporate in the hot weather so compensated with plenty of Molotov cocktails.

She watches in satisfaction as the bodies burn. Tom screams out in terror and pain, yelling for Paula to save him. The repartee they exchanged earlier was pleasant but Paula was under no illusion of how dangerous he was. Wave after wave of undead had been sent against her over the last eleven days. With one she destroyed he took more. Finding survivors and turning them, just to send against her.

Paula destroyed every single one of them. Thousands of undead killed not just by her hands but by her intelligence and cunning, by her ability to forward plan.

An undead crawls out of the door behind her. This was planned for too. Knowing some would be left crawling about.

She moves over to the side, picking the sledgehammer up she left there. She waits for the crawler to get closer, letting him waste his energy before she uses hers. The heavy end of the hammer implodes the skull on first strike.

At the door she listens, hearing more scrapes and groans as they keep pushing on, crawling and dragging themselves to her.

Thick smoke drifts over from the now high flames across the gap, with a final glance she smiles and nods before moving back into the darkness of the stairwell.

A few minutes later she emerges from the door at the bottom. The bloodied end of the sledgehammer drips as she casts the thing aside. Every single one of the remaining undead had been killed on the way back down. All of them apart from the one impaled and stuck to the back of the door. How he was still alive she didn’t know, but he was stuck fast, so she left him there to think about the consequences of his actions and made her way outside.

The street stinks of death, of burnt flesh and sickening odours that fill her nasal cavity, forcing her to put the white mask back on. The stronger smell of smoke wafting down from the burning building also reaches her. The fire will take hold in this dry heat, with no services racing to the scene to extinguish the blaze it will probably take most of these old buildings out. That’ll be nice for the impaled undead. First being stuck to the back of a door and then roasted slowly alive.

Paula threads her way through the charred bodies, using her torch to shine down and avoid the razor wire. She pauses every few metres, scanning round and listening in case of traps or surprises. No noise, no movement, nothing.

She knows she’s won. The sense of victory is there and has been hard earned. Once free of the foot traps she picks her pace up. Switching the torch off and using the moonlight to make her way out of the street. Pistol in hand she moves quietly, nothing on her rattles or squeaks, just the soft tread of her shoes on the surface of the road.

The four wheel drive was left several streets away, parked and locked in amongst a row of other untouched vehicles. As she gets closer she presses the clicker in her hand and waits in the shadows. The vehicle clicks audibly and flashes the indicators just once. An annoyance that was now very dangerous, but not knowing how to disable it she had to plan around it. Unlocking the vehicle and waiting to see if it attracted unwanted attention.

When nothing happens she moves down, feeling a greater sense of relief with each step. The secure rear section of the four wheel drive pick-up is stacked full of food, water, first aids kits, weapons and clothes.

Drive out of the town, find a country spot, get washed and changed then sleep. That’s the plan and right now it feels lovely, knowing the task she set out to do has been accomplished. This town is rid of undead. There might be the odd one or two, but for the most part, they’re gone, dead, killed, cut down by one former twenty-six year old accountant.

She opens the driver’s door and shines the torch onto the back seats, checking nothing has crawled in while she’s been gone. Unlikely with the vehicle being locked but the seven P’s apply to everything.

Satisfied, she slips the rucksack off and clambers in, feeling the relief of sitting in the big leather seat. Paula yawns and stretches, feeling a general ache in her limbs, a heaviness that comes from solid exertion day after day. The key is pushed into the ignition as she notices the piece of paper stuck under one of the windscreen wipers. Not a piece of litter, not debris blown up, but a folded sheet held firmly in place. The tiredness is gone instantly, fully alert now. Her mind works the problem. Someone has put that note there. That means someone could be nearby, watching her now. She’d be expected to clamber back out and take the note, that would expose her.

Instead she starts the engine and pulls quickly out of the space, accelerating down the road. Using the back streets she knows are unobstructed she makes her way out of the town, her eyes constantly flicking down to that damned bit of paper.

No headlights are used, the bright clear sky illuminates the ground enough to see by. Headlights from a vehicle like this will be seen for miles.

Once out of the town she pushes on, taking lefts and rights, driving straight for long minutes before taking more turns. Into the country lanes and she drives on for miles, knowing the town behind her is now probably as safe as can be. But the method has worked so far. Find a rural spot with a good view, park up and feel safe.

At the entrance to a field she stops the vehicle and quickly runs out to open the gate before running back to drive the vehicle through.

The field inclines up a gradual hill. She pushes forward, driving slowly until she reaches near the top. The very top won’t do, it would cause an outline of the vehicle to anyone below, so she stops just below and switches the engine off. Windows down and listen. She settles her mind and breathes slowly. Absorbing the normal sounds of the night. Insects buzzing. A far off cry of a fox. Normal. Natural.

Only when fully satisfied does she climb down and retrieve the note. Taking it back to the cab she opens the folded piece of A4 paper, just standard plain white printer paper with a hand-written message.

To the woman that kills everything,

My name is Thomas, I am the one that has been chasing you.

If you are reading this note, then it means you have either won or escaped again.

Something tells me that tonight will be our final dance, and by reading this now it

means you have been victorious

If this is the case, I applaud you. You have been a worthy opponent who is both beautiful

and highly intelligent.

My guess is that you wish to rid this town of my kind. There are very few of us left now, if

you have succeeded in killing me then the town is yours, and I congratulate your victory.

Take that victory and live peacefully for you have earned it. I suspect that you will now

consider moving on and starting again. I would urge you to consider your options carefully.

I am not the only one of my kind. There will be others, others who are stronger, faster and

with greater numbers. Do not devote your life to this cause. You have proved yourself strong

and capable. To continue will see you being either killed or taken as one of us.

However, I also suspect that you are a very strong willed person and will decide

for yourself. But know there will be other survivors, other people who could

use someone like you.

Don’t be alone in this. Find more of your own kind and live.

Whatever you do, I wish you luck, and as for tonight, may the best one win.

Thomas

A single tear falls onto the page, soaking into the crisp material. A lump in her throat. She blinks rapidly as a muted laugh escapes from her lips. The sadness of it plucks at her heart. She thinks back to their conversation before the final dance as he called it. She laughs again at the words, a dry chuckle and a shake of her head.

He was right. That was the plan. It was never to re-claim the town. That place is now dead to her. Too many memories, too much painful history. Her intention all along was to move on, find the next town and start again. Using the skills she’s learnt she can only get better and find ways to kill larger numbers.

Maybe he’s right though. There will be other survivors out there. Others like her.

Paula had seen the other survivors in her town but had actively avoided them, and on one occasion had threated two men with her pistol for trying to follow her. They were just after food and company, there was nothing threatening about them. But after what Clarke did she refuses to trust anyone. At twenty-five years old, slim and attractive she knows she’ll be a target and after that night, no man will touch her like that again.

But it has been lonely. Despite trying to convince herself this was the right course, she misses the company of others. Just to talk and discuss things, talk this through.

In her dream she would meet another person or group that were as dedicated as she was to killing them. They would team up and work together. A loyal team that co-existed with loyalty and bravery, a team that supported and fought as one.

Just a dream though. In reality the survivors are going to be scared and fearful hiding and running. There might be little pockets but they’ll be dominated by greedy powerful figures that control everyone else. The Clarke’s of this world.

She folds the note and places it carefully on the passenger seat before moving to the back of the vehicle. She strips off, cleaning herself again using wet wipes and water. Scrubbed and dried she changes into clean clothes and starts eating cold beans from a tin. At least she can fart out here on her own without anyone judging her.

Head south, find the coast and work along it. She longs to be near the sea. The wide open sea that would be warm and inviting. She could find a boat and use it as a place to sleep every night.

That’s it. Head south and carry on. Plan formed she climbs into the back seats and stretches out after locking the doors. The pistol placed on the floor next to her body.

Her final thought as her eyes grow heavy is that she’s better on her own.

Far safer.

Six

A thick carpet of mangled bodies stretch across the fort. The tents ripped apart, flattened and torn to pieces. The visitor centre pockmarked where the machine gun rounds thundered through. Some of the hastily erected wooden structures the engineers put up are now hanging in bits with blood and gore everywhere.

My hands gripped the triggers so hard I have to consciously think to unclasp them. Ears ringing from the constant thud of the GPMG. Cordite hangs in the air. Away to my left the lads unfurl from their tight circle they formed to fend the undead off while I made use of the gun. Dave breaks away and attacks the last small group that Meredith is already going for. Between them they slaughter them with ease and as the last one falls I exhale a long exhausted breath.

Dropping down into the Saxon I push the rear doors open and jump down. Finding the weapons that were left stacked there. A fresh magazine goes into my assault rifle. A pistol is checked and loaded with a new clip before being pushed into the empty holster on my belt. Picking my axe up I examine the shaft, thinking of a way to attach a strap so it can be with me all the time.

My eyes keep flicking to the top of the wall but there is no sign of her. It’s taken long minutes to kill the horde off. She could be one off the bodies buried amongst the masses. Mixed emotions course through me. Hatred for her, for the way she lured us in, but also a part of me thinks that maybe she wasn’t in control of what was happening. That the disease was doing it, making her act in a way she didn’t realise.

The desire I had for her was so strong. I couldn’t think of anything else and I would have both penetrated and kissed her if Meredith hadn’t taken her off me. There is no doubt in my mind I would have done it. There was absolutely no element of hesitation or second thought. Whatever she did to me effectively rendered me helpless. What scares me the most is that I don’t think I would have stopped if she had asked me to. I was too far gone. The aggression in me right at that point was frightening. If she had of said no I would have just taken it.

That thought sickens me, for no matter what she is, it makes me realise what I would have done and what I would have become. Never in all my life have I felt like before and I hope to god it never happens again.

‘Mr Howie, you okay?’ Nick makes his way quickly towards me, taking care to not to trip over the squelchy bodies underfoot.

Nodding back I hand him a fresh clip of ammunition and another pistol I just checked. He takes them both, fixing the magazine into his assault rifle and quickly checking the pistol for himself. Good skills taught by Dave and now ingrained.

The rest follow behind him, going straight for the weapons to repeat the actions of Nick.

Cookey looks at me as he shoves a pistol into his belt, ‘what happened?’ he asks weakly, shaking his head. He looks young and innocent, the natural inclination to ask the leader for guidance and answers.

‘You first,’ I reply, ‘what happened here?’

‘I was about the get shagged by a load of fit women until Clarence knocked them over like bowling pins,’ Blowers explains.

‘That’s nothing,’ Cookey groans, ‘April was going for me…I knew she fancied me.’

‘Enough of the fucking jokes,’ I snap and stares across at all three of them. They look at me with surprise, ‘they weren’t women, they were undead…filthy diseased undead. This was the only way they could get to us and it almost worked.’

‘Eh?’ Nick asks quietly with a confused expression.

‘Everything they’ve thrown at us has failed…Darren…the Isle of Wight…they took the fort and sent everyone out for us but we walked away each and every time without a fucking mark on us…I’m not boasting but there can’t be many groups like us that have killed so many and got away with it…’

‘Mr Howie,’ Dave nods as he steps towards the back of the Saxon, nodding like normal, like nothing has happened, like we just bumped into each other in the corridor at work. The dog sniffs about, panting hard and wagging her tail as she moves between the lads. Clarence stands quietly, resting his back against the wall; even he now holds his axe in one hand and the rifle in the other.

‘When we first saw Marcy out there,’ I nod towards the front of the fort, ‘it felt like…I don’t know…Like I had fallen in love at first sight, this overwhelming feeling of…of…something…it was incredible. She was all I could think about, when we were fighting, after the battle, in here, when we were eating…I couldn’t take my eyes off her. We went out the back and the next thing I knew she was naked and sitting on top of me…’

‘Did you have a headache?’ Clarence asks quietly.

‘Yeah, pounding, but it was more than that…I was obsessed with having her, I don’t mean to be graphic but all I could think about was…well…you know.’

‘Fucking her?’ Cookey asks.

‘Cookey, for fucks sake,’ Blowers chastises him.

‘Yeah pretty much,’ I nod, feeling ashamed but knowing this has to be discussed.

‘Same here, I was talking to April…she looked fucking lovely but then she looked lovely anyway…but…’ Cookey trails off, looking at the floor, ‘I don’t know, she started coming onto me and even though I knew she was infected and I would catch zombie from her…’

‘Dick,’ Blowers mutters.

‘Fuck you, I would have caught zombie from her but I didn’t care.’

‘Same,’ Clarence cuts in, ‘but I heard Dave shouting and somehow managed to get her off me.’

‘Yeah by throwing her at me,’ Blowers says.

‘Sorry mate, she didn’t hit you though.’

‘No fair one, glad you did it…cheers Clarence.’

‘Anytime,’ Clarence nods.

Nick draws a pack of smokes from his pocket and hands them round, ‘you’re all wet boss.’

‘Meredith took us both in the sea.’

‘Do what?’ Cookey asks.

‘Marcy was on top of me, both of us had our kit off, Meredith came charging out and must have hit us so hard we all went in the water…’

‘Bloody hell,’ Cookey looks down at the dog, ‘yeah she’s still wet, good girl…who’s a good girl?’ He rubs her head as she snakes round his legs wagging her tail, ‘you saved Mr Howie from shagging the zombie didn’t you…yes you did! Who’s a good girl?’

A snort of laughter bursts from my mouth, ‘was Mr Howie about to catch zombie? But you saved him didn’t you…yes you did,’ he carries on with the baby talk, knowing he’s getting a few chuckles from the rest of us.

‘I think,’ he says standing up with a big grin, ‘that despite April being a dirty infected zombie that is now dead from being killed by Dave…she is still the fittest girl that I have ever seen and I will hold a special place for her in my heart.’

‘She was trying to kill you you fucking moron,’ Nick laughs.

‘With love…killing me with love,’ Cookey replies seriously, ‘we would have got married and had little zombie babies and lived happily ever after.’

‘How did they do it?’ Blowers asks me.

‘Pheromones,’ Dave replies without looking up from checking the weapons, ‘one of them came to me while I was giving the dog some water, took her top off and stood there like I should be doing something…the dog either sensed it or smelled it and reacted. Must have been pheromones, pumped out to make you all get weird.’

‘Shit,’ Cookey exclaims.

‘Fucking hang on,’ I step forward, ‘she did what?’

‘What?’ He looks at me.

‘Say that again, what did she do?’

‘Which bit?’

‘All of it.’

‘I said she came over to me, she was walking strange and swaying her hips and making her breasts jiggle about, she stopped in front of me and when I didn’t do anything she took her top off….then just stood there…what?’ He asks, looking at us pissing ourselves laughing at the thought of some poor zombie woman stood there confused wondering why he wasn’t responding. ‘What? What’s so funny?’

‘Did she say anything?’ Cookey asks between laughs.

‘No,’ Dave shakes his head, ‘just stood there topless…Why is that funny?’ He looks round at Clarence braying like a donkey against the wall then down at Cookey kneeling on the ground clutching his sides. ‘Mr Howie?’ He asks me. I’m sat on the back step of the Saxon leaning forward as tears fall down my face.

‘Poor girl,’ I try to mutter, ‘what did you do?’

‘Killed her,’ he replies flatly with just a hint of huffiness at all of us laughing. His answer sets us off again.

‘You cold bastard…’ I gasp between breaths, ‘you could have at least taken her out to dinner first.’ That’s it. We’re off. All of us letting the tension go by pissing ourselves laughing at the thought of it. Dave stood there in front of a topless zombie girl, both of them wondering what to do next so he does what he always does and chops her head off.

‘Did…oh god,’ Cookey moans, ‘did she have nice boobs?’

‘I don’t know,’ Dave replies stiffly, ‘I didn’t look.’

‘Why not?’ I ask.

‘Would have been rude,’ he mutters quietly, looking away as Nick and Blowers sink to the floor.

It takes minutes to compose ourselves. Each time we gather our senses one of us looks at the other and starts off again. All of us crying and moaning at the pains in our stomachs. Dave stands with his back to the wall and folds his arms, a posture I have never seen him do and which makes him look positively sulky.

‘This is childish,’ he mutters, which just sets us off again, ‘call me when you’ve finished, I’m going to check for crawlers, come on,’ he clicks at the dog, taking her away with him.

‘Don’t look at any boobs,’ I call out.

‘Okay Mr Howie…Ah…very funny.’

Pulling a case of water from the back of the vehicle I throw the bottles out at the lads, trying to do something with my hands so I stop laughing so much. The laughing dies down to random giggles as we drink water and smoke cigarettes. A deep chuckle emitting from Clarence every few minutes.

‘Finished?’ Dave walks back into our circle.

‘Sorry Dave, no offence mate,’ I say between a fresh burst of chuckling, ‘why didn’t they work on you?’

‘What?’

‘The pheromones?’ I ask.

‘The boobs?’ Cookey quips which just sets us off again.

‘Take your time….whenever you’re ready,’ Dave stands there watching us.

‘Sorry, that was it mate…no more I promise.’

‘I don’t know why they didn’t work, I’m different to all of you.’

‘How?’

‘I can’t read social situations or people, I don’t understand the meanings within what people say…I don’t have sympathy or empathy, I can’t relate someone else’s situation to my own experiences…’ His words cease the laughing quickly, a sudden thought they we could be offending him deeply, ‘I have Autism and Asperger’s syndrome…I was tested in the services.’

‘Shit…sorry Dave…we weren’t laughing at you, it was just a funny concept,’ I say softly.

‘I understand that,’ he smiles, quick and natural which changes his face instantly, ‘I can see why you would find it funny but I don’t relate to it…’

‘But you know everything,’ Cookey says quickly and with real meaning.

‘No,’ he shakes his head, ‘Mr Howie does, I don’t…Clarence knows more about life than I do…all of you know more about girls…and movies…and things like that…’

‘Dave, can I ask something mate? Do you ever find things funny? You know…like what makes you laugh?’

He thinks for a second before replying, ‘I don’t really laugh, I do on the inside sometimes, Laurel and Hardy and Charlie Chaplin…they are good, but I don’t show emotion…that’s the Asperger’s…do you remember Morecambe and Wise?’

‘Yeah course,’ I reply.

‘Who are they?’ Nick asks.

‘Old comedy act, my Granddad loved them,’ Blowers replies.

‘They did a sketch when they were cooking breakfast to music…’

‘I remember it,’ Clarence cuts in, ‘in dressing gowns and they had the sausage strings pulled from the fridge.’

‘That made me laugh,’ Dave says proudly.

The biggest speech he has ever made to us, and he’s let us know him as a person. Something passes between us. A bond that strengthens. Surrounded by death and killing every day since this began. Watching our loved ones getting cut down but right now, we all feel it. That even if Dave opens up to us there is something special.

‘Pheromones then?’ I say before the silence gets uncomfortable, ‘makes sense…bloody frightening though…’

‘Very,’ Clarence offers, ‘how did you get to the Saxon?’

‘Marcy,’ I reply, ‘I was surrounded at the top by the gate, things were coming in on all sides. Then they just parted and let me through…Marcy was stood on the wall, I got to the Saxon and she’d gone.’

‘Not all bad then,’ Clarence says with a tilt of his head.

‘She couldn’t hold them back though, like she was losing her control over them…was Reggie with you?’

Head shaking as they look at each other. ‘Dave? Did you see him?’

‘No,’ he replies bluntly.

‘Him and Marcy must have got away, or they’re still here,’ Clarence adds.

‘They could be in that lot I shot down.’

‘Unlikely, are we going after them?’

I look at Clarence, then at the lads and then at the mess of the fort all around us, ‘not now, we need coffee and rest.’

‘Police dogs can track people, we could get Meredith to find them,’ Nick says.

‘They’re trained to do that mate, she’s good but we wouldn’t know where to start or how to make her know what to look for, we’ll rest and figure out what to do when the sun comes up…I need coffee, lots of coffee.’

I head across to the old police office, getting an instant reminder of everyone we lost as I walk in. The rooms are tidy and put back to order. Marcy must have had her lot working hard while we slept.

Marcy.

Something tells me this isn’t over yet, not by a long way.

Seven

‘Urgh,’ Paula groans as she sits up, sweat dripping from her face, clothes sodden from sleeping in the cramped back seats. The morning sun burning through the windows, slowly heating the inside of the vehicle. Feeling groggy she moves quickly, pushing the door open to dash outside, grimacing at the wall of heat hitting her.

She licks her dry lips and pushes her tongue out of her mouth, yacking at the foul taste. Hair plastered across her forehead, red faced and with a full bladder she moves away from the vehicle and quickly pulls her trousers down, squatting on the grass and groaning with pleasure at the relief of urinating.

Taking her time she scans the view. At the top of a hill she can see down into a valley, across meadows and fields, forested copses and the roofs of cottages and farmhouses dotting the landscape. Rural England, beautiful and shimmering in the high summer heat. Rabbits further down the field, moving slowly through the long grass. Movement catches her eye, a burnt orange colour slinking along the hedgerow. Standing up she pulls her trousers up and moves to the vehicle, grabbing the binoculars from the rear. Focussing on the hedgerow she moves her view along. There, a flash of orange. A fox creeping through the undergrowth, gradually working its way to the rabbits.

Paula feels a sense of trepidation at the sight. Wanting to shout a warning but then realising the fox needs to eat, it might have cubs and be starving for food. Mind you, it doesn't look starving. Nicely shaped with a bushy tail it looks anything but starving. With the instant demise of man, animals like this will fare much better. Just the reduction in road kill will boost the numbers.

The fox stays low, creeping forward as it slinks between the thickets. Pausing every few feet before darting on with a quick burst of speed. Pulling the glasses away she looks with naked eye to the rabbits, still happily moving about without a care in the world.

Watching this, knowing their main predators is stalking closer and closer invokes a feeling of helplessness. Mankind is being pretty much obliterated from the planet but they are just one species. Just one of countless life forms trying to survive. Rabbits have suffered disease and pulled through, they even suffered man made disease used to cull their numbers. Myxomatosis was brought in to try and ease the numbers and ended up wiping out nearly all the wild rabbit population. Maybe that’s all this is. A manmade disease sent out by a group of scientists intent on cutting the numbers back and taking the world back to a base state of being.

Twelve days ago that would have sounded absurd. But now it is one of a number of highly probable reasons of how this all started. It must have come from somewhere. Something this virulent couldn’t have always been in existence. This is made by man, Paula is sure of it. It has to be. But those rabbits, they just carry on the same as before. The fox gets closer and closer, the rabbits keep eating. Their demise is right there. All they have to do is look, but they don’t. They enjoy life and take what happiness they can. They know the fox can’t catch all of them.

The fox bursts from the hedge into the open ground, a split second later the rabbits starburst. White tails bobbing up and down with incredible speed and agility. The fox fixes sight on one and gives chase. The rabbit heads straight, then turns instantly to the left, then to right, jigging back and forth. The fox right behind it, turning with every twist, neither gaining nor falling away.

The explosion of energy must be huge, both animals running for everything they are worth. The rabbit bucks and leaps mounds, scattering in a haphazard manner of running. No set pattern that the fox can fix on. Paula smiles as the rabbit finds a hole and drops out of sight, the fox stopping dead with its snout buried into the hole. It scrabbles at the ground for a few seconds before giving up and slinking away.

A mixture of emotions greets Paula as she pushes the binoculars back. Stripping off she stands in bra and knickers, washing with lovely cold water and wet wipes, sluicing the sweat away from her armpits. She tries running a hand through her hair, yelping at the knots that catch on her fingers. Greasy and tangled, she sniffs the end, pursing her mouth at the stench of the fires from last night. Remembering the fire she quickly looks about, scanning the skyline. She spots the smudge in the distance, just a thin plume of smoke wafting high into the air. It doesn't look too bad.

Pulling a large bottle of water from the back she manages to get her head under the lip and start pouring it over her hair, shivering with pleasure as it splashes down her neck and back. Awkward and difficult, using one hand to get her hair soaked and one hand to hold the bottle. She pulls the toiletries bag out and selects a shampoo, squeezing the thick liquid directly onto her head she starts massaging it into her scalp, working it through the strands. An idea strikes her, a pleasant day, washing her hair in the great outdoors, but something is missing.

She moves to the front of the vehicle, leaning into the passenger door to push the radio on. Static fills the car until she presses the play button on the CD player. She waits a few seconds and winces audibly at the Spice Girls booming out that they really really wanna do something.

Still, at least it’s upbeat and cheerful. Dancing her way to the back of the car she starts rinsing the shampoo out, smiling to herself as the bubbled water pools round her bare feet.

Paula works the brush through her wet hair, ridding the tangles and still singing along to the music. Cheesy songs but a positive feeling inside her. She won. She actually won. Killed nearly every one of those things and walked away.

A whole town rid and cleansed of the things, and all of it done by her, alone and without help. The loneliness she felt last night still tugs deep inside, but she can cope with it. Better that than being stuck with the Clarke’s of this world.

Finished with the hair, feeling clean and dressed in fresh clothes she pulls the small camping stove out and starts heating water. Humming along to the music she prepares a mug with coffee and powdered milk. The water boils quickly, the perfect amount measured out from the many times she has done this.

Within a couple of days she had started this ritual, standing at the back of the vehicle, eating food while brewing up. The normal actions of making coffee soothed her. Something about boiling the water and doing the same thing she had done every morning for as long as she could remember.

With fresh coffee she stares at the bag, knowing she’ll do what she shouldn’t do it but enjoying the pause to see if she can resist temptation this morning.

Nope. No can do. She slides the packet out and draws one of the white cigarettes out. One a day, sometimes two if she felt like it. No one to judge her, no one to moan or say how bad it was. She hadn’t smoked for years but had a sudden craving a few days ago and had enjoyed the hit of caffeine and nicotine while standing in the glorious morning sun.

She lights up and cups the mug in one hand before shuffling her backside onto the rear of the vehicle. Coffee and a cigarette. She settles in for a few minutes, gazing out across the panoramic view. The deep blue sky with not a cloud in sight. Lush green fields stretching out for miles.

With a sigh she takes a sip of coffee then a pull of the cigarette, enjoying the sensation of blowing the smoke away.

Where now? That was the question. That note she read suggested she find her own kind. Which meant find other survivors and stay safe. Or, she could find another town and start all over again. She examines her responses inside. The thought of finding others doesn't fill her with any sense of want or need, but the very second she thinks of taking more of those things out and she feels a tingle of excitement.

Nodding her head she makes her mind up. Decision made. Head south and do it all again, and kill as many of them as possible on the way.

How long do they last for? It’s been twelve days today since it began and they were going strong last night. Do they eat or drink, do they sleep? At least she knows some of them can talk and think normally. That was strange, very strange. He was stalking her for days, intent on killing her but had the ability to write a letter. Which meant he would have looked for a pen and notepad and then found her vehicle to leave it under the wiper. He could have just staked her car out and waited, trapped her someway. That speaks of vanity which is a weakness she can exploit. If others are like that she can goad them and use that vanity to lure them harder.

The razor wire worked well. The broken glass was okay and felled a few but nothing brilliant. As part of an overall strategy with other tactics it was valued but broken glass on its own wasn’t good enough.

Fire was good, very good. Not only burning them but starving them of oxygen too. What else explodes? Anything that is pressurised and contains a flammable liquid or gas. She leans round and grabs her toiletries bag, pulling the can of deodorant free and looking at the flammable sign on the back.

With a mind full of plans she pulls out the ordnance survey map and folds it flat, working her finger along the roads. She finds her town and using a marker pen she puts a bold cross through it. Tracing along she works out her rough position and then moves south to the next settlement.

A wry smile tugs at her mouth as she realises the word she used, settlement. Not a town or a village but a settlement. Like olden times when people would gather together to have safety in numbers against the beasts and bandits.

‘Pretty much like now then,’ she mutters. A small town like that is hardly going to have a large enough DIY store to get all the things she needs. Maybe a hardware store but after twelve days the chance of finding one that hasn’t been looted will be quite low.

But then a small town or a village won’t need the big plans, the numbers should be smaller and therefore easier to cull.

Paula nods, thinking this will be a good test. Drive into the village and use whatever she can find on the spot to do the culling. It will be good experience in case she ever gets caught on the run and has to improvise. Can you have planned improvisation?

‘The seven p’s,’ she mutters quietly, ‘proper pre planning prevents piss poor performance, but on this occasion we shall plan not to plan.’ Paula’s decisive mind works quickly, weighing up the positives, negatives, variables and accounting for unknown eventualities that might arise. After this evaluation of the plan she comes to the conclusion it will be worth it.

The four wheel drive is packed away. Everything stowed where it should be, secured and made safe. She checks her boot laces, making sure the laces are tight and the ends tucked away. Trousers clean and dry, belt secure. Pistol in holster with a full clip of ammunition. MP5 on the passenger seat with a full clip of ammunition and spares for both in her pocket. Flare gun with a fresh flare loaded in. Large bladed knife in the scabbard attached to her belt. Vest top dry and tight to prevent snagging. Hair tied back and free from her eyes.  The last two items are put on, a pair of sunglasses, carefully chosen with non-reflective lenses that allow her to see in the day without worrying about glare but not so tinted she would lose vision if running into somewhere darker. Finally a black baseball cap, cotton material and perfect for preventing the sweat rolling down her forehead into her eyes. And if she loses the glasses then the hat will protect her vision.

With the map folded to show the route and placed on the passenger seat she drives back down the field, a full bottle of water between her legs to sip from and stay hydrated. She tuts at the fuel gauge showing less than a quarter of a tank. That will mean either a re-fill or finding another vehicle. No matter, that is to be expected.

At the gate she keeps the engine running while she yanks it open. Driving through she doesn't bother closing it, knowing it will be there and open if she needs to use it again.

On the lane she keeps the window down and one arm rested on the sill, enjoying the blast of hot air rushing past her head. The lane ends at a T junction with another five bar gate leading into a field ahead of her. A brown horse with a thick mane stands with its head hanging over the gate. Paula holds at the junction, staring at the animal as it cranes its neck down to try and reach the juicy grass. The animal’s ribs are showing clear along the flank, its head low with huge sad looking eyes. She switches the engine off and drops out, heading across the road. The horse watches her coming and gives a tiny toss of its head. At the gate Paula looks into the field at the bone dry water trough a few metres along.

Reaching over she pushes the handle down and swings the gate open. The horse moves straight to Paula, rubbing its nose against her shoulder. She pats and rubs the hot muzzle before moving down to look at the waterless container and the tap fixed to a pipe above it.

The sadness of it strikes her hard, that the water is right there but completely inaccessible to the horse. She twists the tap on, water gushes from the end, thundering into the container beneath. The horse is there within seconds, dropping its head down to start licking at the rapidly pooling liquid.

Standing back she spots the brown mound further down the field. She walks closer slowly recognising the form to be another horse, laid flat on the ground and hardly breathing. Like the other one, the ribs are showing along the side. Dying from thirst, in this heat with no shelter it must be only a matter of time before the farm animals start perishing.

Feeling a sense of anger that the owners probably didn’t spare a second thought for the poor creatures and were simply occupied with their own survival. But that’s not fair; it’s human nature to protect yourself. But the sight of the suffering creature still fills her with a sense of unfairness. They relied on humans for everything. Held in captivity, forced to remain within the boundaries of fields and stables. Unable to find food or water.

The horse lifts its head and snorts, letting her know it’s not quite dead yet. She rushes back to the vehicle and drags a water bottle out from the back. Running into the field she spots the other horse still stood at the trough drinking deeply as the water pours out.

She scoots round and drops to her knees in front of the prone horse. Unscrewing the cap she gently lifts the horses head and shuffles her legs underneath. With the head raised she tries pressing the bottle to the horse’s mouth, pouring a gentle stream of water into it. The horse responds immediately, its large tongue darting out. Remembering from the films or a documentary that water must be given slowly if a person has suffered serious dehydration. Is that the same for horses?

She has no idea but it can’t hurt to take it slow and let the water trickle in gently. Paula feels the animal’s throat working as it takes the water down. The relief must be immense, to have cool refreshing liquid after such a long hot dry period. How have they lasted this long? But it rained a few days ago, that sudden heavy downpour. That must have given them enough to last a few more days. But the parched ground and hot weather would have sucked the moisture away quickly.

She pulls the bottle away and waits for a few seconds, stroking the animal’s long face. The horse looks up at her and snorts again, sending a blast of hot air onto her arm. She shuffles to ease the cramp, not realising how heavy the head would be rested on her lap. The horse snorts again, seemingly demanding more water. She presses the bottle to the mouth and starts pouring the water in again. It splashes down and soaks her lap but the horse drinks and takes what it can. Lips pulling back to show a row of even stained teeth.

A shadow looms over her, making her drop the bottle and reach for the pistol before feeling the warm muzzle of the other horse on her shoulder. Grinning foolishly she carries on, holding the bottle with one hand while rubbing the other ones nose. It moves round and lowers its head to the prone horse. Sniffing at its face before pawing the ground with one front leg and snorting loudly. Get up. Get up and drink.

The message is clear and repeated several times. The upright horse even starts nuzzling the downed one, pushing its nose against the neck. Paula watches with interest, realising the intelligence of the animals, the attempts at communication and the clear show of concern.

Not knowing if she is helping or hurting, Paula squeezes out from under the horse and rushes back to the vehicle, mooching through the back and finding the box of sugar cubes. Will this hurt them? The horse is huge so one or two shouldn’t hurt and maybe it will give it enough energy to get up. She runs back, hoping she isn’t doing more harm than good.

She starts with the horse on its feet, breaking the seal on the box and laughing as the horse smells the contents and starts pushing the box with the end of its nose, eager to get the contents out. The cube looks tiny compared to the horse but then she guesses they don’t have a great amount of sugar in their food so it might be quite a strong effect. She holds it flat in her hand and grins again as the horse rubs its lips over and snatches the thing away, within a second it’s nuzzling her open hand, asking for more. She gives another two and watches, worried in case it will do something bad but not sure what the bad thing would be. Maybe get hyperactive like a child and start running round in circles. But it doesn't do anything but keeps pushing at her hand, demanding more sugar. She feeds another two and then goes back to the one lying down.

‘Hey,’ she rubs the nose, smiling in relief that the horse is now holding its own head up. Still lying down but at least it’s not sparked out now. She takes a cube and presses it to the horse’s mouth, letting the animal sniff it before taking the cube. The other one comes back and keeps nuzzling her, pushing her harder and harder until she relents and feeds it another two cubes.

The lying down horse hasn’t died so she gives it another cube, watching carefully in case it starts reacting. Within a couple of minutes the upright horse is showing signs of a sugar rush, pawing the ground and tossing its mane. It becomes more demanding, pushing her roughly for more cubes. The eyes look quite wild now, big and staring. Too much sugar. She tries to ignore it but it persists, nuzzling her shoulder and then taking a nip at her collar bone. With a yelp she relents and feeds two more cubes before going back to the one of the ground.

It too shows signs of reaction. Snorting more and kicking out with its legs, the eyes look sharper too, more focussed and animated.

She feeds another few cubes and moves back just in time as the animal starts moving to get up. A slow action at first and unsteady on its legs, but it does it and gains its feet.

Paula stands back grinning proudly as the horses rub necks and push against each other, both of them now appearing to be full of energy. They trot side by side to the water trough and start drinking, taking huge noisy sucks of water, tails swishing the flies away, flank muscles shuddering with tension and nerves.

Something good just happened. Take the positive and feel good about it, she may have just saved the animals life. Paula strolls slowly towards the gate, watching the horses as they drink. As she passes they both lift their heads and start moving after her. She laughs at the sight or her two new friends coming to say goodbye. The big animals move in and start nuzzling her, pushing her about as they sniff for the sugar cubes. Taking a step back Paula tries telling them no, like a mother would tell a naughty child. But the horses are not children, they’re big powerful creatures that want more sugar and they know she has the sugar, so hand it over, give us the sugar now.

Noses push against her, mouths grope and snort down her arms trying to push her hands up. She yelps in alarm as a big shoulder barges her back. The horses are suddenly not so nice, but very big and very strong. They push harder, demanding the sugar be handed over. One goes round behind her, pushing at her back. She tries side stepping but they don’t want her to go, not until she hands the sugar over. Pushed, shoved and barged. Lips pulled back to show dirty strong teeth that want to nip and bite until she understands that she will be giving that sugar over.

‘Bloody hell,’ Paula jumps back, one of the horses snorts louder and paws the ground. This time an aggressive act or one that Paula perceives to be an aggressive act. Being mugged by horses. The oldest trick in the book. Pretend you’re injured and when she comes over to help we’ll steal her sugar.

She eyes the gate and accepts defeat, they know they can outrun her with ease so she upends the box and sends a little rainfall of glistening white sugar cubes falling to the ground. One of the horses sees the box and goes for it, knocking it out of her hand and sending her flying back. The other one moves in, scooping the cubes up. The box splits, showering Paula in the cubes as she falls to the floor. The second horse moves in, looking with delight at the little white squares distinct against Paula’s black clothing.

Paula scrabbles back as the horse comes in for the bite, nipping at the cubes. She rolls away and gets to her feet, running for the gate while drawing her pistol. She runs into the lane, straight to the vehicle and glances back, convinced the horses are chasing her. What she sees are two majestic and gentle creatures grazing contentedly at the ground.

She looks at the pistol and shakes her head, knowing she wouldn’t have shot them no matter what, but still impressed that she had the gumption to at least draw the weapon.

‘Bloody countryside is more dangerous than those things,’ she mutters, climbing back into the vehicle half expecting a herd of cows waiting to carjack her.

Eight

‘That’s a lot of bodies.’

‘It is Mr Howie.’

‘Going to be a hot day again.’

‘It will be.’

‘How the hell we going to get rid of them all?’

‘Use a digger.’

‘What just scoop them away.’

‘Yes Mr Howie, we’ve got the fuel now…’

‘Dirty job though.’

‘It is.’

‘Too much for just us I think Dave.’

‘We can do it, Clarence can drive the digger, we can pile the bodies into a truck and drive them to the estate.’

‘Hmmm, still a lot of bloody work though, and all those tents will have to be taken out, they’re covered in blood and bits of body.’

‘You have a plan.’

‘Do I?’

‘You do Mr Howie.’

‘What’s my plan then?’

‘To get extra help.’

‘That’s my plan is it?’

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

‘Great plan Dave.’

‘And you’ll be asking Maddox and his group to move here.’

‘How the fuck did you know I was thinking of that?’

‘It’s obvious Mr Howie, we need help and they are the only other group we know.’

‘I thought you said you couldn’t understand people.’

‘This is different, it’s tactic and strategy.’

‘So what do you think then?’

‘What about?’

‘Fucking hell Dave…about the moon…what do you think about the moon?’

‘It’s held in place by the earth’s gravitational pull.’

‘Very funny.’

‘About Maddox you mean?’

‘Yes Dave, about Maddox.’

‘There are pros and cons, advantages and disadvantages. They are young, untrained, no discipline but also clearly very loyal and brave.’

‘True, lads, you alright?’

‘Morning Mr Howie, shit…that’s a lot of bodies.’

‘It is Cookey, we were just saying that.’

‘How we gonna get rid of them?’ Blowers asks.

‘I was thinking of getting some help.’

‘Who from?’ Clarence asks, then, ‘oh…them,’ as he makes the same connection as Dave.

‘Who?’ Cookey asks.

‘Who do you think?’ Blowers replies.

‘I dunno, who?’

‘Fucking hell Cookey, even I can work that one out,’ Nick sighs.

‘Work what one out? Who we asking…?’

‘Your mum,’ Blowers shakes his head.

‘My mum? She won’t clear bodies away, she never did the housework at home…who we asking?’

‘Jesus mate, are you still pissed?’ Nick asks.

‘Fucking wish I was,’ Cookey grumbles, ‘pissed with April and finishing what we started before Dave chopped her head off.’

‘I didn’t chop her head off,’ Dave adds.

‘If we find a tattooist I’m gonna get her name done.’

‘Cookey you dick, she was a fucking zombie.’

‘Fuck you Blowers, she loved me…Anyway, who we asking?’

‘Oh my fucking days, have you still not worked it out?’ Nick gasps.

‘No, who?’

‘Who else do we know?’ Nick asks him.

‘Nobody, they’re all dead or zombies…or dead zombies.’

‘So we don’t know anyone else that’s alive?’

‘No.’

‘Living near here.’

‘No,’ he shakes his head with a look of concentration.

‘Living in a secure compound with big fences…’ Nick continues as we all stare at Cookey.

‘Big fences? What big fences?’

‘Young…’

‘Young?’

‘Fuck me…this is like pulling teeth…young and living on a fucking housing estate, guns and speaking like chav’s.’

‘Oh,’ Cookey grins, ‘them! Why didn’t you just say, yeah I get it now…sorry about that.’

‘Unbefuckinglievable,’ Blowers sighs again, ‘Mr Howie, I apologise on behalf of Cookey and his half a brain cell that is still in April’s knickers.’

‘Oh April,’ Cookey adds wistfully, ‘she loved me. So we gonna get Maddox then?’

‘Worth a go,’ I add with a smile, ‘there’s enough of them, and we got to get this mess cleared up somehow.’

‘So we are going to ask a bunch of children to clear away a thousand dead and mangled bodies?’ Clarence asks.

‘Pretty much mate.’

‘Fair enough,’ he nods, ‘just checking.’

‘But they’re chav’s, they’ll steal everything,’ Nick says.

‘What is there to steal?’ I ask him.

‘The stores will be emptied, the booze’ll be shoplifted, they’ll be hanging about on the corners with their hoods up and spitting everywhere.’

‘That’s racist,’ Cookey adds.

‘Fucking idiot, it’s not racism it’s stereotyping,’ Blowers replies.

‘You’re a racialist,’ Cookey nods at Nick.

‘You’re a twat,’ Nick promptly replies.

‘I don’t think we got much choice really, we can’t clear this away and manage it on our own. There’s only six of us plus the dog.’

‘How we going to do it then?’ Clarence asks.

‘We’ll have to go and see them, ask them nicely…that woman, what was her name?’

‘Er…Lenski or something like that,’ Cookey gives a serious answer for once.

‘Yeah Lenski, she was switched on…we’ll have to go together, I’m not splitting our team again so we’ll have to risk leaving this place empty.’

‘What if someone else comes while we’re away?’ Nick asks.

‘They’ll find a big empty fort with lots of dead bodies mate,’ I smile.

‘Okay.’

‘Stupid question,’ Cookey tuts.

‘Fuck you.’

‘Fuck your back.’

‘Fuck my back?’ Nick laughs.

‘Fuck it…I meant fuck you back.’

‘You want to fuck my back?’

‘I bet he does,’ Blowers adds with a grin.

‘Christ,’ Clarence shakes his head.

‘We might as well go now, nothing else to do,’ I say.

‘Can you give me ten minutes Mr Howie,’ Cookey asks quickly, ‘I think that food last night is making a big poo in my tummy.’

‘Urgh you fucking dirty bastard,’ Blowers grimaces.

‘I need a dump too,’ Nick rubs his stomach.

‘Thinking about it,’ Clarence shifts position, ‘that’s not a bad idea.’

‘I might as well go now too then,’ Blowers nods.

‘How many toilets are in that visitor centre?’ I ask, already starting to move away. The others clock my movement and start shifting position.

‘I said it first,’ Cookey starts running. We all do, flat out sprinting towards the centre, leaving Dave stood there shaking his head. Meredith bounds along barking in a high pitched tone at the sudden excitement.

Cookey takes the lead but the rest of us are right behind him. Even Clarence keeping up as we spring along holding axes and assault rifles.

Yelling and shouting at each other we watch Cookey turn and grin as he keeps the lead position. With a few metres to go he raises an arm in victory, just as Dave runs past him, goes through the open door and sprints down the short corridor to the toilets, scooting through and out of sight.

Cookey yells out and runs through with the rest of us hot on his trail, he gets to the toilet door and bursts in, turning to stick one finger up at Blowers and Nick before disappearing out of view.

‘There’s only two cubicles in there,’ Blowers moans, ‘where you going?’ He adds as Nick jogs past, heading for the ladies.

‘Using the girl’s toilet, they’re always cleaner anyway,’ he shouts and pushes the door open.

Blowers, Clarence and I all look at each other and start running for the last remaining cubicle in the girl’s toilet.

‘CONTACT,’ Nick bellows from inside. We rush through the door to see Nick inside stood a couple of feet back from one the closed door of a cubicle. ‘In there,’ he nods, holding his rifle up and ready, ‘the doors locked, must be someone inside.’

‘What is it?’ Dave bursts in, pistol in hand, followed by Cookey holding his trousers up with one hand and clutching his rifle with the other.

‘Someone in that cubicle,’ I motion with my head to the closed door. Dave drops down, looking through the few inches of gap at the bottom of the door; he looks up nodding and holds one finger up.

Blowers creeps into the open cubicle and steps onto the rim of the toilet, lifting himself up to see over the wall. The rest of us stand back, weapons aimed and ready. Blowers peers over and quickly looks back at me, then down again before hopping off and standing there with a worried look on his face.

‘Who is it?’ Clarence asks after a few seconds pause, but judging from his face I can take a guess who is in there.

‘Lani,’ Blowers replies quietly.

‘Fuck,’ Cookey exclaims.

‘She’s taped up.’

‘What?’ I ask him.

‘Taped up,’ he repeats. He steps out of the cubicle so I can squeeze in behind him, passing him my rifle so I can lift up. Taking care not to grip the top of the plinth wall I lean over and look down.

Lani sat on the closed toilet seat with thick tape wrapped round her ankles and knees. Her hands bound behind her back and more tape wrapped round her mouth and a blindfold tied round her head.

‘He’s bloody right,’ her head is already tilted up and cocked to one side as though listening intently and at the sound of my voice so close to her she starts murmuring being the gag.

‘What she doing in there?’ Clarence asks, ‘can I pop this door open?’

‘Yes mate, she’s wrapped up tight.’

‘Sure?’

‘Go for it, she’s sat down with tape round her legs, gagged and blindfolded.’

Clarence leans his bulk on the flimsy door and gives it a tiny shove, popping the plastic lock off with ease. Stepping back he uses his foot to push the door open. The rest of them all try to peer in at the same time, leaning round the sides of the door at Lani sat there, completely immobile. Muffled sounds come from her as she rocks her body side to side then back and forth.

‘Ah fuck it, she’s gone,’ Clarence mutters with a sad tone, ‘look at her, poor thing.’

‘What we gonna do?’ Cookey asks as we all stand back from the cubicle and stare in at the writhing figure.

‘Kill her,’ Dave suggests in his usual flat tone.

‘We can’t kill Lani,’ Nick replies.

Looking at her squirming now I can just imagine her getting free of the bonds and attacking us, launching like the others outside. Even so, it’s horrible to see and without the danger of an imminent threat it’s hard to make the decision to kill her, ‘it’s not Lani though is it,’ I say after a pause, ‘it’s one of them, same as Marcy and the rest, fucking diseased.’

‘Kill her then,’ Dave suggests again, ‘one to the forehead, quick and painless.’

‘She’s going nuts to get at us, look at her,’ Blowers shakes his head as Lani gets more animated, the sound of our voices must be driving her mad with hunger and I can just imagine the saliva building up behind that gag.

‘Why did they put her in here?’ Cookey asks.

‘Keep her away from us I guess, maybe Marcy thought I wouldn’t fall for her if I had Lani in view.’

‘Ah yeah, that makes sense,’ Nick nods, ‘bloody hell she’s gonna bust that tape in a minute, she’s going crazy.’

‘Infection must be driving her mad, telling her to get us, maybe it can hear us?’ Clarence says with his eyes locked on the cubicle.

‘What the infection can hear us?’ Cookey asks, ‘how would that work?’

‘It seems fucking clever enough and its latest master plan just went tits up.’ I add.

‘I couldn’t kill her,’ Nick shakes his head, ‘not like this.’

‘Me neither mate, if she was attacking us I could but not in cold blood…not Lani,’ I reply.

‘Dave then,’ Clarence states, ‘or the dog.’

‘You can’t set Meredith on her,’ I look up at him.

‘Why not,’ he shrugs, ‘the dog doesn't care who it is…or rather who it was…she’d go for any of us if we turned.’

In a sick way it makes sense, Meredith wouldn’t hesitate and isn’t hindered by emotions the same way we are and we all saw what she did to Paco that night.

‘Maybe it’s best then…fuck,’ we all jump back as she kicks out, slamming her feet into the door, balancing her backside on the toilet seat she thrashes out again and again with her legs bound at the knees and ankles.

‘Where is she?’ I ask looking round. Nick goes to the door and calls for Meredith, whistling loudly.

‘Nick hurry up mate she’s going nuts,’ Cookey calls out. Lani gets to her feet and bounces side to side against the cubicle walls, shuddering the thin ply-board with her lithe but powerful body. The growling gets louder, fiercer as she jumps and hops towards the opening and out into the toilet. We dart away keeping our distance.

‘Nick for fuck’s sake get the dog,’ Cookey shouts.

‘I’ll do it,’ Dave draws a knife as Lani drops to the floor and starts rolling back and forth across the floor. Yelling in alarm we have to jump over her body as she rolls into our feet, sensing the contact with us just makes it harder.

‘Hang on,’ Nick shouts and runs down the corridor.

‘I can’t watch,’ Cookey bleats heading for the door with Blowers right behind him.

‘Boss,’ Clarence shouts in alarm as Lani rolls into my feet. I try leaping over her but get tangled and fall down in a heap, scrabbling away as she writhes and squirms, kicking her legs out and bucking her body violently. She must be screaming with hunger behind that gag, the veins in her neck bulge out with effort and her muscles stand taut against her frame.

Dave pulls me away, dragging me to my feet as we hear Nick shouting in the corridor, ‘She’s coming, she found a crawler on the other side.’

‘I thought you got them all,’ I look at Dave who suddenly looks aghast that he missed one.

‘Sorry, I thought I did, I’m really sorry Mr Howie, I promise it won’t happen again.’

‘Fuck!’ We leap over Lani rolling across the floor at us, clearly following the sound of our voices, ‘don’t worry mate, it happens.’

‘She’s here,’ the door bursts open as Meredith runs in, tail wagging and giving a high pitched bark at finding us hiding. Lani rolls harder, slamming her body into the frame of the cubicle. Meredith looks down at her, head cocked to one side. I twist away, unable to watch and catch a glimpse of Clarence doing the same thing. Lani keeps rolling, crashing into the wall then into the frame. Her legs kicking out as she growls and howls behind the gag.

Meredith yelps with another high pitched bark as Lani crashes into the side of the room. I look round to see the dog watching Lani intently, her upper body down low to the ground but her arse in the air with her tail going crazy. Lani rolls again, a fast motion that shoots her body over the floor. Meredith barks and leaps over her, landing the other side to spin round on the spot then drop down again.

‘What the fuck?’ Cookey calls out from the door.

Meredith creeps forward towards Lani, nose stretched out and her tail still going nuts. As Lani starts the roll she jumps back playfully then shoots forward again to push her nose at Lani’s head. Lani squirms and sits up in a fluid motion, Meredith bounds round her barking with excitement. I look at Clarence who just stares at me and shrugs.

‘Is she…?’ I start to stutter then watch amazed as Meredith gets close to Lani and sniffs her face, I hold my breath thinking this is it, this is the point that the dog realises Lani is one of them and goes for her. Squeezing my eyes closed again I feel a tugging on my arm and see Dave stood there pointing at the dog gently leaning in to nip at the gag in Lani’s mouth, her tail still wagging like mad like it’s a game. She pulls backwards and shakes her head gently pulling Lani with her who keeps murmuring with increasing volume.

Dave darts in with knife in hand, his movement so quick that for a split second it looks like he’s going to cut her throat. Instead he deftly swipes at the material of the gag tied at the back of her head. With Meredith still pulling it, the gag comes away. Meredith drops it instantly and starts licking Lani round her face, tail still going.

‘Don’t let Dave kill me,’ she blurts out, her voice hoarse and rough.

‘Shit,’ I rush in and grab the blindfold, working at the knot to pull it free. Cookey and the lads pile in as Meredith keeps licking at her face.

‘Aah,’ Lani spits, ‘her tongue went in my mouth.’

‘Come here,’ Nick pulls the dog away.

‘Dave, cut her wrists,’ I say as I struggle with the knot tangled in her hair.

‘No! Don’t cut my bloody wrists,’ Lani yells with panic.

‘The tape, not your wrists…Dave cut the tape.’

‘She might go for us,’ Dave says.

‘I think we’ll be alright mate, there’s bloody six of us plus the dog.’ He drops down and pushes his blade through the tape between her arms. They pull away quickly and immediately she lifts her hands to the blindfold, pulling it roughly up over her forehead.

‘Get off, let me do it,’ she snaps, ‘you’ve got my hair caught.’ Grimacing she tugs it free, pulling several long black hairs from her head at the same time. Dropping the blindfold she starts rubbing her eyes, groaning in pain or pleasure, or quite possibly a mixture of both.

‘You were going to let the dog eat me,’ she shouts suddenly with anger.

‘You’re one of them, we thought you were trying to get us,’ I say.

‘How would I do that exactly, taped up and stuck in a toilet, you’re bloody idiots…all of you damned bloody idiots.’ Taking her hands away she stares down at the ground, stretching the muscles of her face, opening her mouth wide, ‘oh that’s better, it’s really bright in here.’

‘You’ve been blindfolded for ages,’ Clarence points out.

‘Really? Was I?’ Lani snaps back at him, ‘give me a minute, my eyes hurt.’

‘How come you can speak?’ I ask, ‘you couldn’t speak before…’

‘I don’t bloody know, can you give me a minute please,’ she snaps again.

‘Take your time,’ I reply softly.

‘I will, after you tried setting the dog on me.’

‘We didn’t want to kill you,’ I reply.

‘Dave did, he kept bloody offering…’ Lani retorts.

‘Well…shit I don’t know…we thought…holy fuck!’

‘What?’ She stares up at me.

‘Your eyes!’

‘What?’

‘Fuck…fuck…’

‘WHAT?!’ She looks up at the lads who blanch at the sight of her, mouths dropping open, ‘oh…are they that bad?’

‘Fuck,’ I repeat again, ‘fuck…’

‘Stop saying fuck,’ Lani snaps, ‘you must have seen thousands of them by now.’

‘Lani,’ Clarence stares down with a stony face, ‘come here,’ he bends over and lifts her easily to her feet.

‘What?’

‘Fuck…’ I repeat again.

‘Stop saying fuck!’ She wails.

‘Look,’ Clarence steers her to the smudged mirror on the wall above the hand wash basins, Lani squints at the light then leans forward, with her legs still bound Clarence holds her steady.

‘Fuck,’ she mutters at the sight of herself, ‘oh fuck…’ She turns away blinking and rubbing at her eyes before going back and checking again, ‘fuck…’ she uses her fingers to stretch the eyelids away, rotating her pupils left, right then up and down.

‘They’re normal,’ she gasps, ‘they’re normal…white and brown and….fuck!’

Nine

One main road through the middle. An old fashioned shop with a red awning over the door on the right side. Smaller roads leading off to side streets with stone built cottages and pretty front gardens. An average village centre in an average part of southern England.

And no sign of the things. Not one. Not anywhere. Paula purses her lips and leans forward resting both her hands on the top of the steering wheel. Where is everyone? Having driven through once she saw front doors hanging open, some dried stains on the ground presumably from pools of blood. But nothing other than that. Cars still parked on driveways and everything looks pretty normal. Even the shop doesn't look smashed up or damaged.

Several minutes go by and still no sign of anything. Eventually she presses the horn, sending a loud honk into the perfectly still air. With a good line of sight to the front and rear she waits, expecting to see them stumbling from somewhere, but nothing. Not a thing. No movement.

She presses the horn again, longer this time. A determined honk sounding out, I’m here…come and get me…I’m fresh and juicy and nice to eat.

This doesn't feel right. The village is small but the doors to the houses have been opened and with the blood stains it means people have been taken here. So where are they? Paula starts the engine and crawls along at a slow speed. Watching either side, bending down to look out the passenger window trying to detect any movement. She keeps pressing the horn, giving regular honks to draw them out.

Biting her bottom lip she stops the vehicle and climbs out, wincing at the heat. Standing at the side of the open car door she looks up and down the deserted street. She switches the engine off and listens intently, turning her head to stare up and down the street, scanning the houses. Nothing. Nothing at all.

Her eyes fall on a blue van parked on a driveway, vans run on diesel, so does her vehicle. She scans about again checking the area. Might as well take advantage of the quiet, she gets back in and drives to the house, parking alongside the van. The house looks empty, the front door ajar and presenting the dark hallway inside.

Pistol in hand she stalks towards it, moving with fast determined steps. No point in messing about, get in, find the keys and get back out. Pushing the door open she holds for a second, listening and staring at the tidy clean interior. No nasty smells, no flies buzzing everywhere, no sign of death or those things.

Moving through the rooms she works her way to the kitchen, finding a row of metal hoops fashioned from a wrought iron decoration fastened to the wall and each one with a set of keys hanging down. She takes the set with the biggest black plastic fobbed key and heads outside, pressing the key clicker and nodding as the van doors click unlocked.

Paula had no idea how you got fuel from a vehicle, and with the internet down she had to rely on finding an old book from an abandoned house and reading the section carefully.

Now, with the length of hose pushed into the van fuel opening she makes sure the tube is long enough to be below the level of the fuel tank and gets the container ready. Lips wrapped round the end and she starts sucking, drawing the air from the tube while watching as the fuel starts to rise in the opaque tubing. She drops down, keeping as low as possible, the fuel hits her mouth with a bitter acrid taste. Wrenching her head away she spits it out, holding her thumb over the end of the hose to prevent it going everywhere.

It tastes awful, really awful. She pushes the hose to the plastic container and removes her thumb, listening as the fuel starts to pour inside. Leaving it there she goes back to her vehicle, retching and gagging on the way. Yaks coming from her stomach at the taste of the fuel in her mouth. Ignoring the bottles of water she grabs a warm can of coke, pouring the sickly sweet content and swilling it round her mouth before spitting it out.

With the fuel can filling up she pulls the hose free and uses a funnel to pour the diesel into the fuel tank of her own vehicle. Smiling with satisfaction of planning ahead and making sure she had the right equipment to do the job.

Paula repeats the action until no more fuel comes out the hose, draining the van fuel tank and replenishing her own. Back in her car she turns the ignition on and grins broadly as the fuel gauge rises to almost full.

‘Yes!’ Slapping the top of the steering wheel from the joy of doing it herself. It was easy and now she’s got almost a full tank of fuel.

‘Couldn’t get bloody promoted though, oh no…not good enough for promotion Paula, not ready for it yet…maybe next time eh?’ Shaking her head she drives away, feeling a sense of purpose and pride.

Out the village and back into the long twisting country lanes, arm on the window sill and once again enjoying the breeze blasting by.  Looking at the map, the next village is a quite a few miles away and looks about the same size as the one she just left. Just another ornate selection of country cottages looking all picturesque and homely. The sort of place anyone would want to live, especially city fold who’ve worked hard for long years and grown sick of the traffic and constant noise.

Coming out of a long sweeping bend she spots something on the road ahead of her. Something low down and moving along. As she gets closer she makes out the form of the woman, dressed in a nightshirt ripped, torn and filthy. The thing crawls along, using just her arms to drag her onwards, the legs feeble and unmoving suggesting a spinal injury.

Paula holds behind it, driving slowly along as she watches it keeps going, the skin on her legs is scraped off, bright red glistening wounds that crawl with maggots and flies landing to feast and lay more eggs. The thing pays no heed, simply dragging along, cutting her flesh to pieces on the rough surface of the road.

The vehicle bounces as she drives over the body, looking through the rear view mirror at the now inert corpse. With barely a glance back she pushes on trying to work out where it was going.

Something about the crawler makes her think. It was so intent on getting somewhere. They always just stood about at the last place they saw a survivor, or gathered in large numbers in the centre. They only kept going when there was something to head towards.

Paying more attention to the immediate area she notices the verges look trampled, the grass flattened and branches sticking out from the hedgerow are snapped or bent. They must have come this way, it’s only a narrow lane but there must have been a lot of them if they had to use the sides in addition to the road.

What made them all come this way? For a second she considers if they were coming after her, but the thought is dismissed as quickly as it forms. Her town is back the other way, north not south. Something else is making them head this direction.

The next village comes into view. The standard main road through the middle with a small collection of shops in the centre, the shops are larger with a butchers and mini-market. It still looks pretty with the stone walls and flower beds bursting with colour, although on closer inspection she notices the flowers are now wilting from the heat and the colours not so vibrant. Another few days and they’ll have dried up and died, just like everything else.

No movement though. No things staggering or shuffling about. The same as the previous village, devoid of life, empty and eerie with silence.

Paula goes slow, taking time to look at the sides of the road and spotting signs of heavy foot traffic. Trampled flowers and a blood stained solitary shoe left in the middle of the road.

She drives through to the other side, turns and heads back. Examining every window and door, looking at the cars and front gardens. The same as before, doors opened, blood stains here and there. One of the houses has a corpse across the threshold of the door but even from a few metres she can see it’s rotting and decomposing.

Stopping the vehicle at the shops she waits for a few minutes, listening quietly and scanning the area. So quiet she can hear her own breathing and feel the beat of her heart. With one hand on the pistol grip and the other on the hilt of the knife she makes her way slowly across the road towards the mini-market. The door has been forced open, smashed in with shards of glass littering the ground. The windows are still intact and displaying faded sun bleached signs. Dark patches on the ground indicate blood loss here. She draws the pistol keeping it low as she crunches over the broken glass.

Holding at the door she peers inside, listening and looking, waiting for anything to move. Nothing, no noise, no sounds, no movement. She steps into the looted interior, looking at the empty shelves. Every food item has been taken, all the toiletries and cleaning products gone. Just magazines and newspapers left

Out the village and back into the country lanes. She follows the route on her map, taking bends and junctions until she reaches a much wider main road. A signpost points to Bereford in one direction or her town the other way.

Bereford. That was quite big. Not anywhere near the size of her own town but big enough. She takes the turning and heads on, still watching the sides for signs of foot traffic. The verges look intact but then the road is much wider here, plenty of room for a large group to walk down without the need to go on the verges.

Taking it easy, Paula drives the route, slowing to look at the houses and buildings at the side of the road. Another corpse lying forlorn and forgotten at the side of the road. Rancid and decaying with the skin eaten away by creatures and birds.

The buildings become more frequent as she gets closer to the town. The spread from the urbanisation spilling out over many years of growth. A mile out from the town she spots a group of them in the distance. Their movements and manner signalling exactly what they are.

Slowing down she drives up slowly behind them, a large group spread across the road. Maybe fifty or sixty and all of them moving towards the town. Keeping her distance she watches them for a few minutes. They’re walking faster than normal for the day, a clear and determined pace. Not fast, but certainly quicker than normal.  She drives closer, watching them to see for any reaction. They don’t turn or glance back but keep on towards the town.

Closer now, just a few metres away from the stragglers and still no reaction. She pushes her foot down on the clutch and revs the engine; making noise to alert them she is there.

They keep on so she eases forward and bumps into one of them, thudding him down to the ground. She brakes hard and quickly reverses away, convinced they will now turn and start attacking her.

The rest keep going, the one on the floor just rolls over and starts getting to his feet, not bothering to look in her direction. With a frown she accelerates and runs him over, feeling a slight jolt as both front and rear wheels crush him into the road. Again they just keep going, ignoring her completely.

Paula takes another one down, shunting it hard then braking and watching as the body flies forward into more of the things, knocking them to the ground. The rest of the group push on, leaving the others writhing on the ground. Paula drives over them, veering and turning the wheel to get as many as possible and then reversing to get the ones she missed.

The numbers get reduced as she picks them off, using the big chrome bull bars at the front of the four wheel drive to smash into them and crush them under-wheel.

With only a handful left they reach the edge of town, the fields giving way to rows of houses, street lights, roofs, line markings, sign posts and urbanisation everywhere.

They get taken down too, run over and killed. An easy fifty count done without the need to get out of the vehicle. It was good but time consuming and lacked the finesse of some of the other big kills she’d done.

Leaving the broken bodies behind she drives through the main road, looking at the desperate signs of fighting and suffering.

Bereford obviously saw some hard action when the event happened. A large population all living in a relatively small area.

Within a minute Paula notices the next horde staggering ahead of her.  A huge group that clog the road, hundreds of them all walking through the town away from her. On the flat road she can’t see the head of the horde.

This must be all the things from the villages, all pressed together and going the same way. What’s drawing them? What is so important they have to be gathered in such large numbers?

She can’t get through, there are too many of them. She could plough into the back of the horde but the risk of getting bogged in is too great. She could pick them off but the numbers are too vast.

There must be a way of getting round them to see how many there are and where the front is and then work out where they’re going. The ordnance survey map shows the side roads loop into each other, forming a network of estates, avenues and through-roads. Taking a random side junction she curses within two minutes as she reaches the end of the cul-de-sac, chastising herself for not looking at the road sign. Something like that could be a potentially fatal mistake if she was being chased. It would mean giving the vehicle up and having to run on foot.

Vowing to stay vigilant she heads back out and stays behind the horde, waiting as they pass the next junction. Turning in she accelerates the four wheel drive, bouncing over the speed humps as she navigates the smaller side roads. The signs of devastation are much worse here, nearly every house looks damaged and bodies litter the pavements and gardens. Rotting corpses and mutilated cadavers festering in the heat and providing a food source for countless disease spreading bacteria that will be ingested by the maggots.

At each point where the side roads link back to the main road she pauses to gain a view, looking at the constant stream of the things walking past. Not one of them looks in her direction, not a flicker or a sign that they’ve seen her. The size of the marching column surprises her, stretching on and on. There must be hundreds and hundreds all contained together and keeping to an orderly rhythm.

She has to take the vehicle deeper into the winding estates, searching for a way to get ahead of them. Reading the map as she coasts along she works a route out, turning up a road that leads to a tributary carriageway that eventually feeds into the town’s main thoroughfare.

Driving faster now, pushing to find out where they’re going and desperate to know why they don’t react to her presence or try and take her.

She pulls up short of the junction, mouth hanging open as she looks at the things traipsing past. No way, they can’t be this far ahead. There must be a shortcut somewhere. She checks the map, tracing the road they’re on back to the town centre then using the top half of her thumb to measure the distance against the scale at the bottom of the map.

‘Shit,’ she whispers quietly. Over a mile. A mile long column of the things. Not hundreds but thousands and she still hasn’t seen where the front is.

They’re coming out the town onto this road; she looks at the red line on the map. It snakes through open country for miles, through woods and farm pasture before finally hitting another town, but that one is smaller than Bereford. Why would they be going there? The red line goes straight through the small town and continues back into open land.

She has to know why they’re going there. What’s in that town? And the thought of so many in one place is a challenge just waiting to be taken up. If she can get ahead of them she could lay traps and ambush sites, maybe get something rigged up to start killing them before they get there.

First thing is to find out why they’re heading there. The road marked in red is no good so she works another way round. It’ll take her miles out of the way but with a full tank of fuel and empty roads it should be done easy enough.

Decision made. Options weighed. Advantages and disadvantages accounted for. With a resolute nod she backs the vehicle into a driveway and heads back down the road.

Ten

‘Stop staring at me.’

‘Who?’ I ask.

‘All of you, you’re freaking me out.’

We turn away and stare elsewhere for a few seconds before slowly turning back to look at her again, all of us fixated by her eyes.

In the former police office we sit round the table while Cookey brews up and Meredith lies down by the door.

‘Cookey stop it,’ Lani exclaims at the lad stood there staring at her holding the jar of coffee with the spoon hovering above it.

‘Sorry,’ he turns away to keep spooning the granules into the mugs.

‘So what happened?’ She asks us.

‘Fuck,’ I say for the hundredth time, my head seemingly unable to keep up.

‘Stop saying that,’ she gasps, ‘what happened? Why haven’t I got red eyes?’

‘How do you feel?’ Clarence asks.

‘Normal, hungry…not like that Cookey,’ she rolls her eyes as he opens his mouth to say something then promptly closes it again, ‘thirsty, tired…normal and my stomach hurts,’ she winces and pulls the front of her top up to reveal the puckered wound where she was cut. It was only yesterday but it looks several days old already. The skin knotted together and a large bruise round it. Clarence and Dave both lean in, closely examining the injury.

‘No sign of infection,’ Clarence mutters.

‘Healed quick too,’ Dave adds then looks over at Meredith, ‘like a dog heals, faster than us.’

‘Did you just call me a dog?’ Lani asks.

‘No,’ Dave replies seriously, ‘I said the wound is healing faster, like a dog heals faster than us…the infection has accelerated your ability to heal.’

‘How?’ Lani asks staring down at her stomach.

‘I don’t know,’ Dave replies, ‘can I touch it please?’

‘Aren’t you worried about catching it?’ She asks him with a serious expression which he returns as only Dave can.

‘It’s a sealed wound, how would I catch it?’

‘There might be bacteria on my skin or something.’

‘If that was the case we’d all be infected by now, it’s transmitted by fluids.’

Dave uses the back of his hand to touch the wound, feeling along it gently, ‘no sign of heat,’ he says, ‘does it hurt?’

‘Yeah but not that much, not like it should if it was only yesterday.’

‘What’s the pain like inside?’

She shrugs and stares back at him for a second, ‘it aches when I move but nothing that bad.’

‘It was a deep wound, the pain should be a lot greater than that. Do you have a high pain threshold?’

‘I’m a woman aren’t I?’ She replies with one eyebrow raised.

‘I don’t understand,’ Dave replies in his flat tone.

‘Forget it,’ she says laconically, ‘er…not really, I don’t know if my pain threshold is any different to anyone else’s?’

‘May I try something?’ Dave asks.

‘Yeah,’ she looks up at him puzzled, then flinches as his hand shoots out to grab her ear lobe, giving it a nasty little twist. ‘Ow!’ She yells and pulls away, ‘what the hell Dave,’ she stares back with a flash of anger, ‘that really bloody hurt.’

‘Pain threshold normal then,’ Clarence mutters having watched with great interest.

‘Yes,’ Dave replies turning away.

‘You could have asked first,’ Lani moans rubbing her ear.

‘I did.’

‘Jesus, it felt like you pulled it off, so what does that mean then?’

‘Your pain receptors are normal now, unless you’re faking it but judging at the angry flush in your face I would say not,’ Dave explains, ‘but, a wound like that should see you in agony for days, so whatever infection was in you, it caused you to heal faster and dulled the pain.’

‘So it’s still in me then?’ She asks.

‘I don’t know… we don’t know how fast the rate of healing is, it could be that the wound is healed the same way someone else would be in a week or two weeks, but it only happened yesterday. We don’t know if you’re still healing faster than normal or if you’re now back to normal,’ a long explanation for Dave and he trails off as though suddenly aware of himself.

‘Do you remember it?’ I ask her.

‘Sort of,’ she feels the wound with her fingertips, pressing lightly, ‘like a dream or something, all hazy but with clear bits…I know I could talk but Marcy was stopping me,’ the others all glance at me quickly, ‘what was that?’ Lani asks.

‘What?’

‘That look, what was that about?’

‘Later, go on keep going,’ I wave her on desperate to avoid that conversation.

‘I didn’t feel any pain or anything else but Marcy made me go straight in that toilet, they taped me up and left me there…’

‘And you just let them?’ Nick asks.

‘Yeah,’ Lani nods, ‘it was the most normal thing in the world, like someone else was completely in control and I just had to do what I was being told.’

‘That’s fucked up,’ Blowers remarks.

‘Completely,’ she agrees, ‘I couldn’t hear her voice or anything but like…I could feel her will and knew it was her but it was so natural and…well I guess organic,’ she shrugs struggling to find the words, ‘I take it you killed her?’

‘Who Marcy?’ I ask with a guilty start.

‘No the wicked witch of the west,’ she snaps, ‘yes Marcy…how did you kill her? What happened?’

‘I don’t think she’s dead,’ I explain slowly.

‘Right,’ Lani looks at me, stretching the word out, ‘thanks Cookey,’ she smiles as he places the mug in front of her.

‘I put sugar in it, do you still take sugar?’ He asks softly.

‘Yes, I still take sugar,’ she replies with forced patience.

‘So, Marcy then? Not dead?’ She looks back at me.

‘Don’t think so, er…hang on, when did you stop feeling like…er…well like you just said and then normal like now?’

She shrugs and thinks, shaking her head, ‘It was weird, I was out of it but I didn’t come back like instantly, it was slow, like sobering up from being drunk or…or coming round from anaesthetic…like bit by bit I could feel more of my body and my mind was swimming in and out. Then gradually I just sort of became aware of where I was, the more my mind came back the more things started to hurt, like my wrists and my stomach and I got cramp from being stuck in the same position too.

‘I heard the shooting and that snapped me back to full…er…alertness? Is that the word? Yeah, alertness…I recognised the sound of the GPMG and the assault rifles then later I heard you all running in and then saying how to kill me,’ she lifts one eyebrow at Dave.

‘Sorry Lani,’ he says.

‘The dog? Really?’ She asks, ‘you were going to get Meredith to eat me…that’s awful.’

‘We didn’t know,’ I reply.

‘I’m glad you didn’t, but just let Dave shoot me in the head next time, don’t use the dog, that’s awful.’

‘Okay.’

‘But check my eyes first,’ she adds quickly.

‘Okay,’ I reply again sheepishly, ‘I don’t get it…are you immune then?’

‘I don’t know,’ she replies quickly, ‘probably not, maybe I carry it without it showing or doing anything…’

‘But it healed you quickly, like it does with the other ones,’ Clarence points out, ‘and we saw you being the same as them….and Marcy controlled you…’

‘I don’t know,’ she repeats.

‘Which means that either your body has found a way to fend it off or stop it,’ I lean forward, ‘or you’re still infected and one of them and this is another trick.’

‘Another trick?’ She asks.

‘Yeah like Marcy did with Mr Howie,’ Cookey cuts in. I close my eyes quickly, grimacing as he realises what he just said.

‘Why? What did Marcy do with Mr Howie?’ She asks with a sidelong glance at me.

‘Er…you know…like tricking us into thinking she was er…like helping us,’ Nick adds quickly.

‘Yeah that’s what I meant,’ Cookey nods, ‘that…what Nick just said…’

‘Cookey?’ Lani asks.

‘Like Nick just said,’ he says too high pitched, ‘she tricked us like she was helping us…’

‘So where is she then?’

‘Who?’

‘Cookey you are a crap liar, what’s going on?’

‘Oh fuck,’ he mutters, ‘Nick have you got any smokes?’

‘Yes mate, we going out for one?’

‘Yeah,’

‘I’ll come,’ Blowers adds standing up.

‘No,’ Lani cuts in, ‘smoke in here.’

‘Dave said were not allowed,’ Cookey adds with a frantic look.

‘Did I?’ Dave asks.

‘Er…no?’ Cookey replies.

‘What,’ Lani snaps, ‘is going on? Where is Marcy? Howie…’ she looks at me.

‘Fuck I’m out of here,’ Nick walks quickly to the door with the two lads, leaving the rest of us sat there in silence.

‘So you could be immune then?’ I ask with a faint hope at changing the subject.

‘Where’s Marcy?’

‘Which would be good news of course,’ I nod.

‘Where’s Marcy?’

‘And could mean we found a cure…yay,’ I smile and nod again.

‘Howie,’ she looks at me, ‘where is Marcy?’

‘Oh she’s gone,’ I wave my hand, ‘just went off I think…’

‘Right, you leave me no choice,’ she turns to face Dave, ‘Dave, where is Marcy and what happened?’

‘Marcy and some of the other girls were giving pheromones off, making the men get all…er…’ he shrugs, ‘er…horny I think Alex called it, and they lured the men into almost getting with them…Marcy went for Mr Howie out the back but the others…’

‘Sorry what?’ Lani leans forward, ‘Marcy did what?’

‘Went for Mr Howie,’ Dave repeats, ‘but the others were down here and…’

‘Went for Mr Howie? Like how? Attacked him or…’

‘No, turning him on…’ Dave explains in his flat voice, ‘like I said, we think they were putting pheromones out and it made everyone get horny so Mr Howie went out the back with Marcy and they were getting naked when…

‘Dave,’ I shout in alarm.

‘What?’ Lani shouts at the same time.

‘Dave,’ Clarence shakes his head with a groan.

‘What?’ Dave asks innocently.

‘They were doing what?’ Lani shouts, ‘you were doing what?’ She repeats looking at me.

‘Right hang on, let me explain…’

‘I think you should,’ she sits back glaring at me, ‘you were getting naked with Marcy while I was tied up in a toilet?’

‘Hang on,’ I wail, ‘just wait…she was like…er…in my head or something, I couldn’t stop thinking of her…’

‘I beg your pardon,’ speaking softly she drops her head and lifts both eyebrows.

‘Ah, fucking hell, she was like in my head since we first met yesterday…I just couldn’t stop thinking about her…’

‘Yesterday? When I was alive and stood next to you? That yesterday yes?’

‘Yes,’ I groan, ‘that yesterday, I don’t know what happened, like Dave said it was pheromones or something, whatever it was it worked…’

‘Just on you?’ She asks me, ‘not the others…Clarence did you have the same thing with Marcy?’

‘Er…no not really,’ he rumbles nervously, ‘I got lured later by another one though, we all did apart from Dave.’

‘So, keep going,’ she looks back at me with a glare.

‘Right well yes, er…so we had the fight and she saved us, and then you were down and er…’

‘Get to the point,’ she growls folding her arms.’

‘I am,’ I whine, ‘then we were like fucked, completely fucked, everyone had died, Sarah and you and Chris and we just went to our rooms and slept, then when we woke up they had cleaned up and…’

‘Cleaned up? She didn’t do a very good did she? Have you seen the mess out there?’

‘Listen,’ I wave my hand at her, ‘it was all clean and with lights on, they made food for us and we er…well we had the food.’

‘Oh very nice, a romantic meal,’ she says slowly.

‘Then er…the lads were drinking and getting pissed, I was annoyed and feeling like manipulated like it was all contrived so I went out the back and Marcy came with me and then er…well I don’t know.’

‘Don’t know what?’

‘I don’t know,’ I say weakly, ‘oh fuck it,’ I sigh and rub my head. She deserves the truth so I spit it out quickly, ‘she was coming onto me, and I responded but I was aggressive with it, it wasn’t romantic or loving or anything else…it felt like that at the time but it wasn’t…it was lust, pure lust…and the most terrible thing is if she hadn’t of given it I would have taken it…’

‘My god?’ Lani looks at me in shock.

‘Yeah,’ I nod, ‘that’s how bad it was, we didn’t do anything…we didn’t kiss, we didn’t have sex…almost but not quite…but I was so turned on and so…I don’t know…aggressive and…’

‘I felt the same,’ Clarence cuts in, ‘and even one of the lads went for me when I tried getting the girls off them.’

‘Same here,’ Dave adds, ‘I had to trip Nick up as he was trying to fight me.’

‘Seriously?’ Lani asks.

‘Yeah, it was that bad,’ I reply.

‘I’m not talking to you,’ she snaps, ‘fair enough I get it, not your fault but I was tied up in a toilet and had only just been taken and you were trying to shag Marcy…so forgive me but you can fuck off for a bit.’

‘What? Hang on.’

‘No, fuck off,’ She snaps without looking at me, ‘just don’t speak to me for a minute.’

‘Lani,’ I plead.

‘Remember that bloke in the back of Saxon? The one who had his head cut off?’

‘Fine,’ I sit back quietly.

Lani shakes her head with a look of anger mixed in with hurt and confusion. She masks it well, keeping her face mostly impassive.

‘So where is she?’

Clarence explains the last bit, where Meredith pushed us both into the water, then the fight in the fort and Marcy on the top of the wall. Lani listens intently, nodding her head to show understanding. ‘So you don’t know where she’s gone?’

‘No,’ I reply and earn a filthy look from Lani in the process.

‘What about you?’ Clarence asks gently.

‘What about me? You’ve already asked me that and I told you, I don’t know…I could be infected, or it could be dormant in me…I don’t know.’

‘Meredith didn’t show any reaction to her,’ Dave says, ‘and her eyes are clear, either way she is now the important asset we have.’

‘Asset?’ Lani baulks, ‘I’m not an asset.’

‘Can we come back in yet?’ Nick calls out.

‘Of course you can,’ Lani replies, ‘it’s only Mr Howie I want to throttle, not you.’

‘Oh…er…that’s good then,’ Cookey says quietly as they file back in.

‘Lani, I guess the boss told you but we all had it,’ Blowers explains, ‘Dave was the only one not bothered by it.’

‘I had April,’ Cookey states proudly.

‘That’s not a good thing Cookey,’ Lani replies.

‘What? Did you see her? She was gorgeous, well, until Dave chopped her head off.’

‘I didn’t cut her head off,’ Dave replies.

‘Is that how you feel?’ She looks at me, ‘Marcy was gorgeous,’ she adds icily.

‘Eh? That’s not fair.’

‘Oh Mr Howie gets the best zombie girl yeah?’

‘Lani stop it,’ I sigh.

‘I will stop it,’ she adds softly, ‘but only because we’re in front of other people, but the minute we’re alone you’d better get ready.’

‘I will.’

‘I mean it.’

‘Okay,’ I hold my hands up.

‘Are you going to attack Mr Howie?’ Dave asks with alarm.

‘No Dave, not like that but I will be having a bloody good go at him…and it will be going on for a very long time.’

‘Okay,’ Dave says seemingly satisfied that my life isn’t being put in immediate danger.

‘So,’ she looks back at me, ‘Mr Howie, what’s the plan?’

‘Plan? I don’t bloody know!’

‘You always know,’ Cookey adds.

‘Well, we’re going to have to find a doctor for Lani and the dog… I don’t get it,’ I add suddenly, ‘why us? How come we find the dog and one of ours ends up being immune?’

‘We don’t know if I am immune,’ Lani replies.

‘So we work on the assumption that you are infected right?’ I ask her.

‘Probably should yes,’ she replies.

‘So that means we can’t give you weapons,’ Dave adds, ‘if you turn quickly you could kill everyone…well apart from me that is.’

‘Modest Dave,’ I add.

‘No,’ he shakes his head firmly, ‘realistic.’

‘Okay, no weapons then and I’ll stay close to the dog to save you having to set her on me if I do turn,’ she says archly.

‘Huh, that’s funny,’ Cookey snorts, ‘what? Well it was funny…I’m really glad you’re back Lani,’ he gives a huge grin with genuine feeling and rushes over to her. She stands up laughing as he grabs and hugs her, holding her tight.

‘Me too Cookey,’ she laughs again, ‘don’t squeeze too hard my stomach hurts.’

‘Sorry Lani,’ he grins and hugs her again, gently this time.

‘Me too,’ Nick grins as Cookey lets her go, ‘fucking good to see you again.’

‘You too Nick,’ she gives him a hug and quickly rubs his back.

Blowers goes next and not one of the lads show the slightest bit of embarrassment at showing affection for her.

‘Come here,’ Clarence rumbles and gives Lani a hug, taking extra care from the weight of his arms round her back.

‘I don’t do hugging,’ Dave says quickly as she turns to him, ‘glad to have you back but no hugging.’

‘I understand,’ she replies with a smile, ‘and Mr Howie doesn't get a hug either until I know he’s washed that whores smell off him,’ she smiles sweetly without looking at me, ‘and if we find her…I will be having a weapon and she will be mine, is that clear?’ She beams round the room, everyone nodding meekly.

‘So,’ she sits down, ‘the plan?’

‘The plan,’ I sigh, ‘was to go and get Maddox and see if he wants to move in here, but now…’

‘You say it like we’re moving house,’ Lani says, ‘it’s a good idea though…shouldn’t we get those bodies cleared away first?’

‘That’s why I was going to ask him, get his help with clearing up.’

‘That’s not fair,’ she replies, ‘it’s our mess, we should clear it up and how are you going to get him without splitting the team? You can’t leave this place empty with the armoury so full up.’

‘Okay, you being here changes things…we need to be uber bloody careful from now on, we don’t engage unless we have to, we don’t get into a scrap unless we’re cornered or threatened…and we keep them as far away from us as possible, Lani and Meredith have to be protected at all costs. Dave, I want you with Lani at all times and Lani, I want you with the dog at all times…understood?’

They nod back, which gives me some relief that at least she’s still willing to take orders from me.

‘And I mean it, the dog goes on a lead and Lani you hold that lead all the time, she doesn't go anywhere without you holding that lead.’

‘Do you want Dave to put a lead on me too?’

‘Don’t be funny.’

‘Sorry, er…am I with the dog so she can protect you if I turn or…’

‘Both,’ I cut her off, ‘to protect you as much as possible and to protect the dog…and us,’ I add quietly. ‘Clarence, can you drive the plant machinery we got between the walls?’

‘Probably,’ he nods, ‘shouldn’t be too hard.’

‘Nick, find a truck or a lorry, something old that we can burn. Clarence will scoop the bodies up and get them in the truck, we take them out to the estate and burn them…I want everyone in face masks and safety glasses too. I know we’ve got some here somewhere.’

‘In the stores,’ Lani adds quickly making me realise how valued she is, not just as a fighter but someone we all respect and admire.

‘Long day but we’ll get it done. The back gate stays locked and bolted and I want one person on the top wall at all times, we take it in turns…actually we can park the Saxon up there again.’

‘Got it,’ Blowers nods, ‘I’ll get it up there.’

‘Does that include me?’ Lani asks.

‘When Dave takes his turn yes,’ I nod back, ‘and Meredith too.’

‘Once that’s done we’ll re-assess and figure out what we do from there. Nick will drive the truck out to the estate with Clarence in the fuel tanker, Blowers and Cookey will go too and Dave will stay here with Lani and Meredith.’

The lads stand up and start heading outside, Blowers saying he will get the Saxon up top and Nick saying he will get the stuff from the stores.  Cookey files out with them, then Clarence realises Lani is holding back and subtly suggests to Dave that they go outside.

‘But Mr Howie said I had to stay with Lani,’ he replies.

‘Yeah in a minute Dave,’ Clarence nods for him to leave, motioning with his head. Dave finally gets the hint after looking at me, then at Lani then back at Clarence.

Alone and we stare at each other in silence for a few minutes, ‘so you can have a go now,’ I say quietly.

‘Not now,’ she replies quickly, ‘I get it Howie, I get what she did…but it hurts like hell.’

‘I’m sorry, I just couldn’t think straight.’

‘Why me Howie?’ She looks at me intent, ‘why am I immune or different? I don’t get it.’

‘I don’t know,’ I reply, ‘We’ll have to figure it out and like I said, this changes everything now. I am glad though Lani…seeing you…well normal…it’s…’

‘Let’s get through today,’ she starts walking off.

‘Lani,’ I call out, she stops a few feet from me, ‘I am glad you’re okay.’

‘I might not be,’ she shrugs, ‘we don’t know anything yet.’

‘But I thought I lost you, I thought you were gone.’ She locks eyes with me for a long second. I don’t know if I should move forward to hold her or what. She seems to sense my uncertainty and steps in, quickly wrapping her arms round my chest and pulling me in.

‘Shit that feels nice,’ I exhale deeply and hold her close.

‘Don’t get used to it,’ she pushes me away with a hard look, ‘you hurt me.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘We’ll talk later, I’ve got Mr Howie’s orders to do now.’

‘You’d best get on then,’ I smile, ‘I hear he can be a right nasty bastard.’

She cuts me off with a hard look, ‘more than you’ll ever know,’ she says before walking out.

Eleven

Another small market town in the south of England, further south than Bereford and further still from her town.

The map shows one main road leading into the town from Bereford, a thick red line indicating the route across the paper. By taking a long detour, Paula comes back onto that main road several miles away from Bereford.

At the junction on the quiet country road she looks to the empty road at the right, wondering how far back towards Bereford they are. She turns left and within a few hundred metres she can see signs of passage along this road too. Verges trampled down and some smeared blood stains along the road. They’re dried and dark but clearly blood stains and they indicate the things have come this was. It can’t be the same horde she saw in Bereford, it’s not possible for them to get this far that quickly. With a jolt she realises these tracks must be from the ones that were already in Bereford. The things she saw were others passing through.

What was drawing them? Picking up speed she accelerates down the road. High hedges on either side that wound along with the twists and gentle bends, fields, pastures and meadows dotted with copses here and there, overhanging trees dappling the surface of the road, giving a slight strobe effect on the windscreen as she drives along.

The heat is oppressive, even with the windows fully open she still sweats from the hot air buffeted past her.

Another crawler round the corner, this one crawling up the centre of the road. One leg seems to be working as it uses it to push along. Scrapes and flesh cut away, the tight drawn skin red and damaged from the abrasion.

She doesn't hesitate but goes straight over it, feeling a slight bump and a popping sounds as the skull is crushed.

A country pub stands proud before the start of the town. White walled with a thatched roof, black window frames and sills, a sturdy black double front door propped open. Manicured grounds with a big pond to one side, ducks, geese and swans swimming about between the floating corpses. One duck stands on the back of a body, using the few inches of height to give it an advantage over the rest.

Bodies everywhere. Spread over the patio tables and chairs, lying in amongst the reeds at the side of the pond, children bitten and mauled at the multi-coloured playground. Friday night at the local boozer and the event swept through here the same as everywhere else.

She snorts with irony at the name of the pub, The Dead Duck. The ducks are doing fine, she thinks. Just everything else is dead.

Speeding up and the hedgerow gives way to cottages, then short rows of terraced houses and then into the town.

Same as before. Same as every market town in this area. Pretty cottages, pretty walls, pretty flowers, and the same formulaic methodology. Everyone moans when the local pub gets taken over by a corporate chain but yet they fail to see their little kingdoms are the same, town after town, village after village.

It jars her senses and makes her feel on edge. If someone dropped her into one of these blindfolded she would never be able to tell which one it is. A main road going through the middle, a post office with faded posters, a convenience store owned by one of the chains, maybe a unique village square with some benches or a café.

Oh and don’t forget the church and the village hall. Used for everything from the local school play to election polling stations, village meetings, weddings, funerals and everything in between.

The pleasant surrounding should be soothing and nice but they aren’t, they are the same again and again and every one of them will be full of those things.

Except, like the first villages she went to, this one is empty too. The ones coming from Bereford are yet to arrive but the rest here have already shipped out, gone, vacated, rats deserting a sinking ship. But no, something else. Not deserting but flocking somewhere. Going to another place for another reason.

As she drives down the main road, once more looking at cottage after cottage she realises the same as before, that most of the doors are propped open, windows smashed and the odd body lying here and there.

Food. It must be food. They’ve run out of new people to eat or chomp on or whatever they do…infect she guesses is the right word. These small villages only hold finite residents and once they’re taken there isn’t much else to hang around for.

She pulls into the village square and gets down stretching her legs, still stiff from the previous night’s exertions. Pushing her hands high into the air she groans with pleasure as her back muscles stretch out, a very slight and nice feeling of being light-headed for a minute. The Bereford things will be a way off yet, time for a brew and think about what’s going on.

Paula pushes the top half of the back door up and drops the tailgate, pulling the gas stove out and going through the motions as she thinks.

With the stove on and heating a small pan of water she unwraps a health food nutty chocolate chip bar and chews slowly, eyes narrowed and staring off into the distance as she lets her mind relax.

Are they simply spreading out to find more people? No is the answer to that one. They are moving together and with purpose. If they were just after new people to turn they would have tried to take her.

So that’s not it, and in the absence of any other logical reasoning it suggests they are going somewhere to do something. Marching together in the same direction.

But if not here then where? She makes the coffee and pulls the map free, first of all finding her own town, then working along through the villages she went through until Bereford, then further along the red line to this place. Glancing up she scans round and checks the view before continuing. The red line of the road goes straight into her, then out the other side into more countryside and then more shitty little villages.

Maybe they’re working the route as they go, sweeping through to check every house on every street on the way. But no, that would be too much wouldn’t it? Every street on the way?

Thomas displayed intelligence, especially towards the end with leaving the note and the conversation he had. They definitely changed too over the last god knows how many days. Moving faster in the daytime, getting more aggressive and quicker too.

But what would the ultimate goal be? London is back the other way; if they were massing they should be heading towards the biggest city and not the coast. What’s on the coast that they could want so much?

‘Come on Paula,’ she mutters then takes a sip of the coffee, ‘think like them…you are being cut down by one woman in one town so maybe they’re leaving to escape me,’ she shakes her head, ‘no, as much as I’d love to take the credit that isn’t it…’ frowning she continues, ‘so not running away but running to something? But why? If they’re struggling for food now why get so many together when surely getting food will be harder in one place,’ not that, definitely not that, every strategic plan in the world means you don’t put all your resources in one place, unless you want to gather a large force for a specific purpose, ‘aah, that’s better, a large force for a specific purpose…like an invasion or something,’ she nods, feeling she’s on the right track this time.

‘What’s the purpose?’ She muses to herself, ‘they show intelligence and cunning, they work together too, using large numbers controlled by one at the top…hang on,’ she sinks back into internal thoughts now, her mind running too fast to give voice to her processes. She reaches round to pull the carefully folded letter from her back pocket, using one hand to flick it open. She scans reads the note, eyes flicking over the sentences…

… I am not the only one of my kind. There will be others, others who are stronger, faster and

with greater numbers…

That’s it. Thomas knew he wasn’t the only one of his kind, and he must have meant that he was intelligent and able to think. There will be others, others who are stronger, faster and with greater numbers.

Was he trying to warn her? She smiles suddenly, a broad grin that lights her face up. He wasn’t trying to warn her, he was warning her outright. Don’t go after them. Stay away.

Why? What were they doing?

The question burned inside. She had to know the reasons. She had got the head-start in this event; she had killed thousands so she had the right to be in the middle of whatever it was.

Pushing the stove away she takes the mug of coffee into the front and pushes on, determined to know where they are heading.

Twelve

He rolls over, the bed creaking under his broad frame. Eyes snap open, instantly alert. He doesn't smoke or drink and rarely takes caffeine so when he wakes up, his head is instantly clear and ready for the day.

Glancing up at the window he can see the sun is already up with the promise of another scorching day. Standing up he flexes and stretches his long muscular legs and pushes his arms out to the side, feeling a slight increase in his heart rate as the blood is pumped quicker.

Before doing anything else he stares at the calendar on the wall and counts the days off. Thirteen today. Thirteen days since this began. Not even two weeks yet and everything has changed so much, and it’s about to change again.

He sniffs the air, detecting the scent of her deodorant. He vaguely remembers her getting out of bed before him and feels a slight pang of guilt that he slept longer than her. That’s not fair; he should be up with her, working to get everything done.

But then the last two days have been non-stop; every minute of every hour filled with something to do.

He picks the water bottle up and takes a long swig of the warm liquid, it isn’t pleasant but he knows the importance of staying hydrated, especially in this weather. Something he needs to enforce with the others too.

Dressed quickly with a clean plain white t shirt pulled over his head he moves to the door, pushing the pistol into the makeshift holster made for him a couple of days ago. It still feels weird putting the gun on his belt but he knows that within a few minutes he will have forgotten it’s there.

Ready for the day he pulls the door open and steps out with the tiniest of reactions at the hive of activity going on. People everywhere, already up and moving about. Laughing and joking with each other, animated conversations going on. The smell of cooking wafts through on the hot air. Faces turn to look at him as he emerges; smiling in greeting at their leader.

‘You get up then,’ Lenski smiles, her clipboard already glued to one hand and holding a mug of coffee with the other. Maddox smiles back at her, a genuine smile full of admiration for the woman he now shares a bed with.

‘Mornin’ bruv,’ Darius shouts from the other end of the unit. Now cleared of cannabis plants and given over to chairs and tables, used as a central eating place and somewhere for them all to meet and talk, out of the sun and heat. The smell of the plants still linger and it was a hard sell convincing everyone they didn’t need the weed anymore, but eventually, with bribery of music, video games and a very small amount of alcohol the plants were taken out and burnt on the fire pit.

The effect was that everyone got more stoned than ever before from the fumes billowing across the compound but Maddox knew it was the last time, an almost sacrificial act and one that marked a turning point.

Without the weed he could get clean water and food into the youths, plus the daily ritual of everyone taking their multi-vitamin pill too. They were already looking better, in just the few days since the bossman was killed they had been working solidly, moving heavy stuff, knocking walls down and carrying load after load of items back to the compound. Regular patrols were still done and the constant exercise had sparked their natural appetites to kick in.

They almost looked like normal kids now. Well, as normal as they could be given the circumstances, but things had yet to change even more.

That night after Howie had left saw the biggest change. Maddox spoke to Darius, Sierra and Lenski at length, opening up to them in a way he had never done before. They all shared that night, talking of their lives before the event and the people they missed. Maddox made it clear he was not the bossman and that if he made a mistake or a bad call they had to tell him, this would only work if they did it together.

They accepted it readily enough and promised, and to a certain extent both Sierra and Darius stepped up to their new roles and the kids looked to them with almost the same level of respect they gave Maddox. Lenski was a special case and different. A naturally stern woman that spoke her mind and could multi-task unlike anyone they knew. Nothing escaped her and nothing got past her.

As for Maddox. He was still the number one, feared respected and loved in equal measure. He had proven himself time and again for the youths and had worked and sweated alongside all of them. His natural aloofness gave him an air of authority, his broad muscular frame coupled with his passive face and deeply intelligent eyes all worked in his favour to create an air of a natural leader.

He didn’t flap or panic and remembered the names of every youth in the compound, taking time to talk with all of them in turn.

Letting Howie go wasn’t seen as an act of weakness, in fact it worked the opposite and showed the youths they had a leader who was prepared to make decisions. The fact that he went after them showed how brave and tough he was, the way he faced Howie down but then later changed his mind only added to the mystique and regard he was held in.

‘How long you been up?’ Maddox asks Lenski as he walks closer.

She smiles and lifts one eyebrow, pursing her lips as though to suggest she’s been awake for hours while he slept like the lazy dog he was, ‘not long, maybe the half hour,’ she replies with a wink.

‘You should have woke me,’ he grumbles looking round at the youths who have now gone back to the far more interesting concept of eating breakfast.

‘Why? We can feed everyone without the great and powerful Maddox no?’ Lenski teases softly, taking care to keep her voice low, knowing he felt uncomfortable with open displays of affection, not through arrogance but simply because of who he was. She’d change him slowly, she knew that.

‘You eaten yet?’ He asks, making his way to the table put in place to serve the food from, the girls behind smiled as he approaches and spoon porridge into a bowl for him.

‘Of course,’ Lenski replies, ‘there is much to do yes? We have busy day today.’

‘The day of days,’ he replies with a frown.

‘You ready then bruv?’ Darius booms across the room with a huge grin.

‘Yeah I’m ready,’ Maddox replies. Taking his bowl across the room he sits down at the end table, the one specially reserved for the top four. A conscious act taken to give a line of separation to the youths.

‘Sierra comin’?’ Maddox asks as Darius takes a seat.

‘Dunno bruv, she should be here.’

‘She come in minute yes? We wait for her,’ Lenski plonks the clipboard and coffee down before taking a seat with a sigh, blowing a strand of hair away from her forehead, ‘is hot already.’

‘Damn hot,’ Darius replies in a deep gravelly voice.

‘Hotter than hot,’ Maddox mimics the same.

‘Stop,’ Lenski groans, ‘not the voices, too early for the voices.’

‘Hey, what’s up?’ Sierra joins them, pulling a chair away with quick movements belying her already frantic morning.

‘Nuffin, you?’ Maddox gives the standard reply.

‘Nuffin, we ready then?’

‘Guess so,’ Maddox spoons a mouthful of porridge in and nods, ‘anything in the night?’

‘Nah,’ Sierra shakes her head, ‘Jagger had his crew on duty, he didn’t say anything when he went to bed.’

‘Bed? He ain’t got time for bed,’ Maddox says with forced harshness.

‘You leave him, he tired and I say he have some hours yet.’

‘They all up then?’ Maddox asks taking another spoonful.

‘Yep, all up and going at it,’ Darius replies, ‘you’s the only one having a lie in bruv.’

‘A lie in?’ Maddox snorts, ‘didn’t get to sleep until…’ he looks at Lenski for confirmation.

‘I not know this, I was sleep when you came in,’ she shrugs.

‘Well it was late anyway, spent some time with the crews, they’s worried, which is fair enough,’ he accepts with a tilt of his head.

‘They buzzin’ this morning,’ Sierra smiles, ‘never seen ‘em like it, they look like proper kids all runnin’ about.’

‘Good, that’s the weed,’ Maddox says pointing his spoon at Sierra, ‘no weed for what, two days now? So we ready then? You sure about this?’

‘It’s your idea bruv,’ Darius spreads his hands open.

‘My idea but we gotta agree,’ Maddox replies.

‘We been through this, we agree, we say we agree…we all agree and we double the agree so now is too late to not have the agree yes?’

Maddox pauses mid munch to look over at Lenski, she rolls her eyes but smiles straight after, showing she is half joking, but as always with her, the hard tone suggests it is only a half-joke.

‘It’s the right thing to do,’ Maddox continues his eating, tucking in with gusto, ‘if Howie hadn’t come when he did we’d be fucked, they’d have got through here in minutes. I like this place but it’s not safe enough and we can’t make it safer.’

‘So we go,’ Lenski shrugs, ‘he offered the fort and said we can go, is done now, we go.’

‘Yeah,’ Maddox says quietly as though unsure, ‘shame though, I like it here.’

‘So do we,’ Sierra replies seriously with a look at Darius, ‘but you’s right Maddox, this place ain’t big enough and we alright now but the kids’ll get bigger and want more space…’

‘More food…more drink…more women and more boys and more showers and more clothes…’ Lenski adds quickly to a grin from Sierra, ‘it is good idea, best idea…’

‘So we still planning on just turning up?’ Darius asks, ‘I still think we should send someone first.’

‘No,’ Maddox shakes his head, ‘we been through this, we turn up together, all of us…all our food, stocks, supplies, vehicles…everything, we show them we ain’t coming on our knees and begging, we joining forces…we got stuff here, loads of stuff…and our crews are young but they’re good fighters.’

‘I don’t know,’ Lenski cuts in, ‘I think same as Darius, we send someone first.’

‘Nah, I’m with Maddox,’ Sierra shakes her head, ‘if we send someone it looks weak and we ain’t weak, Maddox is right, we show them we coming to join them, not run away from what we got here.’

‘But we do run away from here, you say this place not safe now.’

‘Yeah we know that, but we don’t want them to know that,’ Maddox explains with a wave of his spoon, ‘and we ain't running away, we’re re-locating,’ he adds with a flash of white teeth.

‘Upgrading,’ Darius grins.

‘How many survivors we got out there now?’ Maddox asks, watching as both the girls start flicking through sheets on their clipboards.

‘Twenty eight,’ Sierra replies. Maddox nods and thinks of the new families now living in the houses closest to the compound. After the big fight, those that didn’t get involved in the planned take-over were approached and offered the chance to move closer to the compound where it was safer, and in exchange for helping dig the school playing fields for crops and fishing from the shore. But that was before Maddox made the final decision to leave and head for the fort.

The night of the attack had played on his mind constantly, knowing they were one step away from being wiped out. He didn’t like the thought of relying on someone else but the initial few days were over, they’d survived and now it was about getting somewhere proper where they could live and not just get by.

Besides, Sierra and Lenski were right, the kids would need more space and even having some adults might not be such a bad thing. He only hoped they would be put together in the fort so he could keep them safe until they were ready to start mingling with the other survivors.

Maddox had spoken to each crew at length and had spent the last two days going round all the youths, explaining why they were moving, pointing out all the benefits but also warning them strongly that he was still in charge of them and if they fucked about he’d be on them instantly. They represented him and the compound now so they better show some pride.

They took the news badly at first, fearing change simply for the unknown factor. But these kids were strong and resilient, from broken homes and backgrounds that would make most social workers weep.

They knew they were going together and that’s what mattered. Maddox was still leading them and Lenski, Darius and Sierra were still the leaders too. The comfort and structure they’d missed out on before now was still there.

So the excitement grew, rumours spread at how they would get to use the big guns that Howie and his men had, and be part of the guards that kept the fort safe. How they would all be together somewhere inside and still stay in the crews they were in.

Even the huge explosion yesterday didn’t faze them. Word soon spread it was probably the refinery going up from the heat, then it was explained what a refinery was and then where it was. Most of them stood looking in awe at the huge smoke clouds in the distance and they all felt the rumble through the ground that rattled the old windows in their wooden frames.

‘They all coming with us then?’ Maddox asked about the survivors, having explained to them the plan and offered the opportunity to travel with them.

‘Most yes,’ Lenski replies, ‘some they stay here, they say they lived here many years and they don’t want to leave so,’ she shrugs, ‘I tell them where we go so they come later, it’s up to them I think.’

‘Yeah right, vehicles?’ Maddox looks at Darius.

‘All done,’ Darius grins, ‘they in the street now getting loaded up, I got the crews doing their stuff first and then we got the stuff from the store room to go out, all the food…’

With the morning meeting finished they separate with each one of the four heading off to deal with the many tasks that lay ahead. Once the decision had been made, Maddox had applied his mind to the fullest and planned with his usual intense focus, making sure everything was thought out and prepared.

As he walked through the units he mulled it over again, was this the right thing to do? He knew he could change the plan and stay here and it would be accepted it readily enough. It was the right thing. The high front gates looked good but they were structurally weak and a concerted effort would see them either pulled down or pushed open. They had weapons but only shotguns and some rifles, which all took time to reload and expended vast amounts of ammunition for relatively little damage inflicted.

If that horde had reached the gates they would have been lost, same with the estate survivors. They would have got kills, and probably quite a few of them. But it was also only a matter of time until someone, or something worked out a way of going through the houses that bordered the compound. If they did that and attacked the gates it would be over in minutes.

They needed walls, big walls that couldn’t be breached or climbed and that meant going somewhere else. The seed had been planted by Howie and it quickly out down roots to spread through Maddox’s conscience.

The crews living area at the rear of the compound looked barren now, the tents taken down and stacked ready to be loaded up, bags of clothes and personal effects were being carried out with each crew taking responsibility for their own, and the chiefs overseeing the whole operation.

The solar panels were being stacked up, they were bulky and heavy but the Bossman had made sure he got the best equipment to grow his beloved plants and they were too good to be left behind. Same with the grow lights and wiring loops. They were all being loaded into vehicles sourced and brought back from the estate.

Driving wasn’t an issue as nearly all the youths had at one time or another, driven cars and motorbikes illegally through the estate. Maddox and Lenski were probably the only ones with proper driving licenses and Maddox knew that even Darius had owned several vehicles before the event happened.

Round the other side and he watches the girls from the units bringing the piles of food out from the stores, stacking them by the gates ready to be loaded up. It was important they appeared on mass with all their equipment, and Maddox knew they had to arrive looking clean and disciplined too, that creating the first impression was more than important, it was essential if they were to be taken seriously and not seen as another bunch of desperate refugees.

Maddox knew how the kids would be perceived with their street language, constant swearing and reverting to putting their hoods up at the first sign of trouble. An instinctive reaction done to cover their faces so they couldn’t be recognised and arrested later.

They must have thousands of people in the fort already, so finding space might be hard. But then they only needed a small area, maybe in a corner or something. Somewhere they could stay together. Maddox had thought ahead and understood he would have to see how the ground lay before making the decision to hand over all their stock, food and equipment or whether it formed part of the negotiation for extra space inside, and he’d even planned for making sure crews were assigned tasks otherwise they’d quickly get bored and cause trouble.

Howie and the fort leaders needed to understand they might look like kids, but they were hardened and would kill without hesitation. They only had loyalty to each other and didn’t have the same moral base that others did. That meant discipline and punishment had to be hard, they had to be given respect and freedom, with time to unwind but if they fucked up, the resulting action had to be swift and brutal, and more importantly it had to come from Maddox and not someone else.

He felt an almost overwhelming sense of devotion to the kids that made up the crews, and he knew first-hand the lives they had before all this happened, and how in many respects, their life was now better than it was before.

There is a time for thinking and a time for doing. The thinking was done, the plans laid down and put in place. Now was the time for doing and Maddox jumped straight in. Smiling and laughing with the crews as he manhandled the heavier items up to the vehicles and made sure they were being loaded properly.

The girls from the unit brought regular supplies of water out, ensuring the youths drank often and regular. The heat was intense, scorching in the sun with high humidity that had them all soaked with sweat within minutes of working.

They didn’t complain but stuck at it, moving and carrying, lifting and stacking, crew chiefs nipping between their groups shouting and calling instructions out. The boys soon had their tops off, showing off their lean underdeveloped physiques as they tried to impress the girls, making jokes about the gun shows and puffing their chests out.

Hard physical graft, harder work than any of the youths had done before but with over a hundred of them, it was done quickly with a methodical approach overseen by the clipboard wielding Lenski and Sierra.

Pausing to take a drink of water, Maddox looked at the two women stood next to each other. One tall and Polish with a stern countenance, the other black and much younger but they had taken to each other and developed a strong relationship. Both of them holding their clipboards and pens, comparing notes and lists, talking quietly and smiling often. Sierra seemed much older than her years but girls on the estate always grew up faster, they had to. It was a brutal life and full of predators that preyed on the young and naïve, especially if they were pretty and innocent.

With the two women checking everything that passed them, and with Maddox and Darius on the ground it was done with relative ease and far quicker than they had given themselves credit for in the planning phase.

By late morning they were ready. Loaded up and walking through a now stripped out and emptied set of units. The tables and chairs in the central area looked forlorn and sad, a space used for large groups to gather and meet, now empty and their footsteps ringing out on the concrete floor.

The rear area looked even worse, now littered with rubbish and debris. Items dumped and left and the grass flattened and dead were the tents had been up for almost two weeks. It looked so big now without the life inside it. Vast and empty without the colours and noises, and the kids running about or sat talking.

It served a purpose and got them through the first stage of the disaster but it was time to move on, and if the fort refused them they could just come back, or find somewhere else.

They walked round to the front and up the walkway towards the now open gates. The houses they had worked so hard to claim now emptied and open.

The long line of vehicles stretched down the road, the crews stood in their units near their assigned vehicles talking nervously, smiling with excitement while looking back at the compound with a sense of regret and longing.

The estate survivors coming with them were ready, the families stood separate and away from the crews, keeping that respectable distance.

Maddox led his small group past the vehicles, checking each one was ready to go and who was driving, and did they have the keys, and did the vehicle have fuel.

As each vehicle was checked he gave the order to load up, walking on to the next one while the kids started clambering inside behind him.

He’d even planned the convoy placement. He would have to go in the front with Lenski, and he wanted Darius and Sierra close to him. But that meant a huge long line of vehicles stretched out behind him. Mohammed was spoken to, being one of the more serious and switched on crew chiefs he was picked to bring up the rear and made sure his radio was working with fresh batteries.

And now it was done. The estate exodus was underway. A way of life was being left behind with the promise of something better ahead of them. A safe place with other people. It would be hard to start with, but Maddox knew deep inside this was the best course of action.

He climbs into the driver’s seat of the first van, getting a thumbs up from Darius behind him in the second vehicle. Switching the engine on he grins and shakes his head, smiling at Lenski sat next to him still hugging her clipboard.

‘Why you smile? This is stressful and hard,’ she says with a groan.

‘Done now,’ he remarks casually, ‘all done.’ Easing the handbrake off he selects first gear and pulls away, using the mirrors to watch behind as the vehicles pull out one by one.

Thirteen

‘Holy fuck,’ Paula whispers with a very rare use of swearing. High above the town on the crest of the rolling downs she looks down to the coastal town and the deep blue shimmering sea stretching off to the horizon.

Late afternoon and after hours of solid driving, heading through village after village and following the trails of crawlers and trampled verges she reached this point.

Two things draw her attention and cause a quickening of her heart rate. Far in the distance, off to the right she takes in the huge plume of smoke billowing from something. So far she can’t see the land it comes from but big enough to still be visible.

The second thing that draws her attention, and the cause of the profanity is the town resting between her and the sea. An average coastal town tucked into the base of the rolling hills. Picturesque and scenic. White washed houses dotted amongst the open playing fields, stone built cottages forming quaint and narrow streets, spiralling round in a haphazard way to the town centre. Large and urbanised. With the binoculars she can see the long straight central High Street, set back from the shore and running adjacent to the beachside.

She sweeps across the town, taking in the cricket pitch, the football grounds, the open air swimming pools, the large gardens of the big houses and the postage stamp gardens of the inner town cottages.

Paula lowers the binoculars and rubs her eyes, hardly believing what she’s seeing; convincing herself it must be a mirage, the heat playing tricks with her mind. She squeezes her eyes shut and counts to thirty. Opening them gradually and taking in the immediate surroundings, the grass field sloping down away from her. The hedgerow bordering the field. The tyre tracks across the grass where she drove through. The trees nearby, the bushes and rocks.

Nodding her head she accepts what she is seeing, everything as it should be, no leprechauns or fairies flying about. So her eyes are seeing normal images that her brain is processing.

Satisfied, she pushes the rubber skirt of the lenses to her eyes and looks again. Purposefully starting to the far right at the brown smudge. Yep, that’s still there. Gradually she works back along to the town beneath her. Taking in the long lines of things working their way in. The streets clogged with motion of bodies slowly working their way into the centre.

The playing fields covered in shuffling figures, long lines of bodies strung out on the feeder roads that lead into the town. The winding cottage lined streets filled with things. Every street, every spare bit of land, every road covered in things.

Thousands upon thousands of them. More than that, countless numbers bunched together. The High Street is jammed full and still more of them moving in towards it. Like the crowd of a festival undulating, or the busiest of city centres with everyone moving at exactly the same pace.

Paula had followed them to here, working through the villages and towns until reaching the coast. As she worked along she realised the roads were full of them so she worked inland, aiming for the downs and using the four wheel vehicle to cross open country. Stopping at the top of the sweeping field to look down.

‘Holy fuck,’ she repeats, the looking glasses glued to her eyes. Must be hundreds of thousands here and more heading in. The immediate roads are full; the outer roads still show long lines. Why? Why here?

Paula forces herself to examine the town, what is here that makes them want it so badly. An ordinary coastal town, nothing special or unique about it. It could be anyone of a hundred towns like it. Golden beaches that sweep along the gentle curvature of the land, small piers and jetties, a harbour full of white masts and pleasure cruisers, car parks, streets, roads, houses, shops. And everywhere full of the things.

Leaning her back against the side of the truck she kept looking, sweeping left to right and taking in every street.

A dull pain flashes across her forehead, warning her that she’s been staring now for a long time, straining to watch and utterly absorbed in the slow shuffling movements of the figures drifting in towards the town. Lowering the glasses she lifts her eyebrows high to stretch the muscles of her forehead out.

Sighing deeply she checks her immediate surroundings and moves to the back of the truck, dropping the tailgate to once more pull the camping stove out. Maybe too much coffee? Her hand hovers over the jar, trying to decide if she should have herbal tea this time.

Options weighed, advantages and disadvantages calculated, a decision reached. More coffee is called for. This is an extreme time of extreme actions and it needs caffeine and quite possibly a cigarette.

They haven’t showed any reaction to her presence. Can they see her from that distance? Without binoculars she’d just be a dark speck on the side of the hill. Mind you, best not hang around too long just in case they decide to come this way.

Sitting on the tailgate she stares down at the town with the naked eye, holding the coffee mug in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. The pain in her forehead eases while she tries to work out the significance of this place.

Paula leans her back against the side of the vehicle and draws her knees up, the feeling of isolation hits her more than ever but still, the sense of challenge is there. A whole town rammed to the rafters full of them. She looks at the feeder roads planning traps to lay there and a town this size would have a decent DIY store too. She frowns with the realisation it could have the best stocked and biggest DIY store in the country but with that many things down there it might as well be on the moon. No way she could get to it without clearing a decent path first, but with so many they would just keep pouring in.

This needs a plan. A decent well thought out plan. She stares idly out to sea, smiling at the thought of a big navy ship with big navy guns that would just flatten the town within minutes. Or a tank, that would be good. But no tanks and no navy ships. No anything other than what she can make or find.

Cigarette stubbed out she once more lifts the glasses and starts re-examining the town. One coastal road in from the right side or the west, and another in from the east. One more coming into from the north and that’s it.

The section closest to the shore looks the oldest, with smaller cottages built close together. Must have been a fishing village once and then just grew as the populations increased. Not even a rail line though which meant it would have only grown once the advent of cars became popular.

What does that matter? Who cares how old the place is? But all information is good information she reminds herself.

About to lower the glasses she snatches them back up. Her eyes taking in an image that her brain takes longer to process. Longer than it took for the hands to receive the signal to take the binoculars away. Pressed against her eyes she leans forward and looks again. Rapid movement caught her eye. Movement that was faster than anything else and therefore stood out.

Somewhere near that field there, the big buildings bordering it. The municipal layout suggests a school or college. Figures darting along the edge of the field. Two large and several smaller ones. Must be adults with children. She watches one of the adults move ahead to the edge of a building. They all wait and then run forward to join the first figure. The second adult in the rear.

A road next to the school holds hundreds of shuffling things all heading past just metres from the people. They must be able to see them.

The figures drop down at the back of the building and wait. Paula scans the area, seeing every road filled with shuffling bodies. Trapped in every direction, they should stay quiet within the buildings and hide. But then it will be dark in a few hours and being in a town jammed full of those things at night isn’t an option. How have they survived this long? Especially with children that make noise and cry, let alone the smell they would create.

Paula stiffens, sitting up straight as she notices an escape route for them. If they cross the fields keeping to one side behind the row of trees they could make the far end and the copse of trees. Through the small housing estate and then just one road to cross before they’re out into the fields. The road has the shuffling bodies at both ends but if they move one at a time and quickly they’d make it, or stand the best chance.

They can’t see it from their position, but being on high ground Paula can see the route easily. Her mind whirls trying to think of a way to communicate with them but there isn’t anything. Even if she flashed a mirror against the sun she’d only give her position away and not be able to tell them anything.

But she has the pistol and the machine gun, she could get to them just as they could get out. The thought of being with others is outweighed by the fact that she can’t just leave children trapped in that town if she can see a way out.

And only two adults with them. What are they doing there? Why didn’t they get out before?

There’s no choice, she has to act and do it now. She knows it and throws the last dregs of her coffee from the mug before packing everything away.

She can’t just drive down, she’d been seen easily. Work away to the west and then come back in from ground level, use that field and hide the vehicle before going the rest on foot. In the driver’s seat she turns the vehicle slowly round and heads back along to the gate, then through and steadily getting lower until the town falls from view.

Once satisfied she’s clear from sight she drives straight down the hillside and works her away back along towards the outer edge using fields and narrow farm tracks.

Finding a five bar gate that leads into the fields that border the small estate she stops the vehicle and gets the gate open. Closing it behind her once the vehicle is through. She parks up close to the hedge in amongst a copse of trees with low branches.

Making herself ready she checks her pockets for the facemask, eye glasses, ammunition, flare gun and then the police rifle and pistol. Knife tucked on the back of her belt and no bag this time so she can stay light and move quickly.

With the vehicle keys safely in her pocket she moves along the hedge in a steady crouch, finding a sty she pauses, listens and only goes over once satisfied there are no odd noises.

The sty leads to a narrow track with fences on both sides. Twisting round she looks up the hill at where she was parked and works out her location. These fences must be the gardens of the houses on the small estate.

Paula moves swiftly down the footpath, pausing at the end to peer out and check both sides. At the ends of the street she can see a steady flow of things walking past and heading into the town. Hunkering down for a few minutes she takes turns to watch both ends of the street, taking in their motion and the way they keep their heads forward. Not one glance to the side and no heads turning to look down the street.

She looks ahead and picks out the route; across the pavements and get between the parked cars, then across the road to the rows of the parked vehicles on that side. No footpath on the other side so it will have to be through the gardens. She spots a low fence leading into the rear garden of a detached bungalow and picks out the features that will provide cover; that low wall, then those bushes. Once she’s in the driveway she’ll be blocked from view.

Now or never. The risk has been weighed and calculated and determined that the odds are in her favour.

Staying low she moves out and makes it to the parked vehicles, dropping down between two hatchbacks and looking through the windows to the ends of the street. Perfect, no indication of being seen.

Again she gets across the road and between the next row of vehicles. Still no reaction. She waits for a full minute this time, making sure there isn’t any kind of delayed reaction.

Then across the pavement to the low wall, check, clear to the bushes, check, clear and into the driveway up the path and over the fence.

Dropping to the ground on the other side she grins stupidly, feeling like a commando from a low budget movie and wishing she’d put some black stripes across her nose and maybe had a big tattoo done on her upper arm, something black and tribal, and a change of name of course, Paula doesn't sound very macho or tough.

Paula the secret ninja commando runs across the garden, making little huh huh huh noises in her mind, only stopping when a fit of giggles threatens to come out audibly. Bloody hell, she shakes her head thinking maybe she’s spent too much time alone.

At the rear fence she climbs up in the corner and peers over into the next garden. That house must face onto the playing fields. She clambers over and drops down into the flower beds, holding steady while she stares at the windows and back doors.

No movement, no noise so she creeps on with a strange urge to try a commando roll across the floor but dismissing it just as quickly. Grow up for god’s sake, this is serious stuff.

Down the side of the house and she drops down, smiling at the road ahead of her and the edge of the playing fields on the other side.

Perfect. Bloody perfect. All she has to do now is get across here, stick to the edge and find those people then lead them back out. Tea and medals all round.

She waits at the side of the house, staring across the fields to the building line trying to see the figure again. No sign of them. They must have gone back round to the other side thinking they were trapped.

The ends of this road bend away from view and with no foot traffic in sight she bursts out from the house and sprints across the road, up the slight bank and down onto the fields, immediately going left to the tree line.

This time she doesn't stop, realising she is now committed and speed is the key. She moves fast, going at a steady jog and controlling her breathing, pleased that nothing on her person makes noise.

With a hundred metres to go she stops and waits, getting her heart rate and breathing fully controlled before the final sprint to the back of the building. Examining the structure she remembers what she saw from the hillside and that the closest line of the walkers was to her left, so she needs to go round the building to the right. This is the back of a set of classrooms by the looks of it, so those people could be at the side, round the front or somewhere inside one of them.

Why couldn’t they just stay there and bloody wait? She runs the hundred metres flat out and makes the back of the building, amazed at her level of fitness and how much easier she finds running now.

Without pausing she moves down the line to the edge of the building and peer rounds, frowning at the empty ground.

Ducking round she works along to the front, the rifle held ready with her finger pressed against the trigger guard, something she’d seen on movies and figured it must be the right way of doing it and prevents accidentally firing the weapon and giving your position away, or shooting yourself for that matter.

A scream splits the air, coming from the front of the building. Paula drops to her knee with the rifle up and aimed. Eyes fixed on the corner. Another scream, then more. The unmistakable sound of terrified children being hurt. Instinct kicks in and she moves forward taking long steps with the gun aimed and ready and her finger now holding the trigger.

The screams and wails fill the air, blood-curdling and full of pain and agony. She moves faster, heart hammering in her chest. Movement as someone bursts round the edge of the building sprinting towards her. The suddenness of the action sends a tiny jolt through Paula, she squeezes the trigger sending a round into the forehead of the little girl running with her tiny hand clamped to the wound on her neck.

The child is blown back from the force of the round, her skull flying off in chunks to spatter the ground in a wide arc behind her. The sharp crack of the gun sounds out louder than the screams. Paula freezes her mind unable to compute what she just did. Undead surge round the corner, drawn by the sound of the shot. She fires again; pressing the trigger at the oncoming bodies and watching them spin away. The sub machine gun is well built with little recoil and she plants the shots easily. The bodies drop as she starts backing away, more children screaming out in agony then appearing at the corner running amongst the undead. Blood and injuries everywhere.

She fires again, dropping another undead and wincing at the repeated loud cracks of each gun shot. Too late, nothing she can do now. She turns and starts sprinting away across the field cursing with anger at the sight of the figures coming in from the other end.

She keeps running, judging the distance and gaps between them. No, too many coming now. She veers away from the tree line, the only way to go now. Howls rip the air behind her, roars from the undead as they charge in her wake. The screams of the children still ripe on the air as she runs faster and faster.

She can hear them charging behind and see the others coming in from the bottom of the field. With her legs pumping away she plans her route. The field leads into more houses of the estate, but they are small and no good for hiding. They will see where she goes and simply follow her path.

She needs to avoid the centre and work away to the outer edge where the numbers are fewer and the streets less clogged.

Glancing round she picks her pace up at the sight of the thick crowd charging after her. Pouring through the gaps between the school buildings into the field.

At the edge of the field she runs across the road and clambers over a high garden fence, dropping down before going garden to garden. Out of sight she takes side and rear fences, zig zagging away and deeper into the small estate.

Trying to picture the layout of the town in her mind she uses to the high hills of the downs to keep her bearings. She needs a distraction, something to re-focus them but there’s nothing usable here.

In a garden she spots an open back door and runs into the house, going straight for the kitchen to examine the cooker hoping to get some gas pumping out. Electric hobs and electric oven.

She runs into the lounge and pulls her lighter out, breathing hard as she holds the tiny flame to the bottom of the curtain, praying it’s old and not a modern fire proof material.

Small tendrils of black smoke start to wisp off the curtain, she mutters quietly, urging the flame to take hold. It does, just small but it soon spreads and she makes for the front door, unlocking it to race outside and down the street.

At the end she hunkers down, looking in every direction. She can hear them but not see them. Sounds of crashing, fences being trampled, smashing glass and roars as they keep charging after her. Within a minute she spots black smoke coming from the open front door of the house. It will serve to show where she had just been but it might also draw them there instead of after her.

Checking her position against the high hills she works down the street away from the centre of town, trying to hold the layout of the town in her mind. The image of the child flits through her head with the knowledge that she fired on impulse and didn’t see the wound until after, or maybe she did see it first and her brain moved quicker than actual thought could take place. The thought of firing at an uninjured child sickens and repulses her, but it wasn’t uninjured. The child had been bitten which means it would turn.

A knot of tension grows in her stomach as the images replay in her mind. She’s killed thousands and seen the human body dissected and blown apart many times over, even children that had been turned had been slaughtered in droves by Paula. But a child that hadn’t turned and the sounds of them screaming in agony permeate her mind. If only she’d been five minutes faster, if only she’d flashed a mirror or sent a signal, done something and done it faster.

She knew those children would now be coming back and would be joining in the chase after her.

Just keep going, get out the town and work back to the vehicle then drive off and work a plan out. She reaches the end of the road and takes a swift right into a junction and away from the oncoming things charging at her from the left.

The houses here are older brick built cottages with wooden framed windows and wooden front doors with faded and peeling paint. Old and cheap looking, indicating she must be on the outskirts now. A high wall takes over from the end of the terraced houses, she  keeps going looking ahead to examine the layout and plan a route.

She veers towards a wide entrance further up on the left. She can hear them behind her, the footsteps as they pound the ground and the odd howl and groans as they press on.

Breathing hard she reaches the entrance, catching a glimpse of the large sign on the wall welcoming her to something or other industrial estate with the signature logos of the businesses next to a row of unit numbers.

Casting about she heads down the main road of the industrial unit, flanked by large dome and flat roofed buildings. Breakdown vehicles parked up, delivery trucks and white vans left abandoned.

The units look untouched, secure and locked up tight. But that’s all they are, just squat buildings with open land round them and nowhere to hide or create a zig zag trail. The deeper she goes the more frantic she becomes, fearing she will get trapped or run out of energy before something presents itself.

Up ahead, just after the slight bend; a quick view of a chain link fence. That must mean a compound or secure inner area. Paula grits her teeth and ignores the pain in her side flaring up from the stitch. Shouldn’t have had that coffee, stick to water next time.

The bend opens up, revealing the long fence separated into sections with thick concrete posts embedded into the ground and razor wire coiled at the top. Perfect, she just needs to find a way in now. Double gates closed and locked but no razor wire on the top, just sharp spikes. It’ll have to do, she goes for them and leaps high at the last second. Grasping the bars to pull herself up, thanking her forethought of leaving the bag in the vehicle.

Carefully she braces one foot on the top of the gate and steps over the sharp spikes, twisting round to draw her trailing leg over.

The horde are in view, eyes fixed on her. She knows the spikes won’t stop them but it will delay them. Sliding down she drops to the ground and starts off, running towards the much larger buildings within the secure area. Some have rear loading bays with bakery trucks backed up to them.

She heads that way, knowing bakeries work during the night and hoping either one of the trucks will be left with the keys in or there is something else she can use.

A flash of blue and red objects in the distance catch her eye, familiar shades that stop her dead in her tracks then running back to peer through the gap in the buildings. A huge smile splits her face apart and she charges towards the new sight.

Two big units side by side with a narrow alley down the middle, she takes the alley, stepping, jumping and tripping over the piles of litter and broken up wooden pallets left there.

At the end she pushes a big wheelie bin away and takes a second to stare in wonder at the sight. Perfect, absolutely perfect but she’ll have to move quick if she can make it work.

Taking a breath she runs for the new fence, this one higher and far more solid. Gasping from the exertion she reaches the top and climbs over, no razor wire this time but plenty of big signs and warnings of CCTV security systems and uniformed patrol guards.

Onto the ground and she glances back, nodding that the mouth of the alley is still clear. The nearest truck is across the yard. She sprints over and hoists herself up onto the tailgate and onto the back of the flatbed lorry.

Must be just twist and release, please let it just be twist and release. It is!

‘Yes!’ she grips the first nozzle and starts turning it, listening as the jet of gas starts escaping. Leaving that one she moves on, grasping and turning another and then another.

She works her way through the truck, twisting the valves on the gas bottles one by one. She doesn't do all of them on the truck, there must be over thirty on this one alone and not all will be needed.

She glances round at the row of flatbed lorries all loaded with gas bottles, offering a quick prayer to whoever or whatever led here to this place.

Down from the first truck and onto the next one, valves twisted and the air fills with the solid noise of gas escaping. She makes sure to turn some fully and others only half so the gas doesn't just escape into the atmosphere and dissipate.

Leaving the next truck she moves round and goes to the one after, increasing the chances of igniting more of them. Quick glance round and the first are out of the alley, tripping and stumbling to fall against the wheelie bin, sprawling out but quickly getting back up.

The alley disgorges thing after thing, spewing them out so they can pick up speed again. It takes a few minutes for them to realise where she is, standing round and running in different directions.

She almost laughs at the sight of the stupid creatures until she jumps down and heads for another truck. They spot the movement and start charging towards the fence. Looking over at them she spots the thick pipe running to the huge tank at the end. That must be the main supply where they fill the bottles up.

Knowing she has but minutes, Paula flat out sprints towards the huge tank emblazoned with signs warning of no smoking and no naked flames.

She curses at the sight of the electronic display, wishing it was old fashioned with a big wheel she could turn that would dump loads of gas out. She grabs dials and starts turning them but the display board is void of life, inert and dull.

Forcing herself to think rationally she realises they must have a way of operating in the event of a mains power outage. They’re at the fences now, the masses increasing with every passing second as they throw themselves at it.

Tracing the pipes she finds a fitment that must connect to the bottles and working back she finds the release lever, pulling it over she listens at the end of the pipe but nothing is coming out. The gas must only come out when something is pressed into it.

Too late, time to go and she can already smell the heady scent of gas filling the air. If that fence goes down and causes a spark they will all be blown to bits.

This is the back of the gas compound so the front must be round the other side of the building. She sets off, jogging now instead of all out sprinting, knowing she has one flare left for the flare gun.

How far should she go? What’s the range on the flare gun? And will it ignite the gas in the air or does it need to impact on something?

Halfway towards the entrance she stops and about turns, breathing hard with sweat pouring down her face but the baseball cap does the job in keeping the sweat from her eyes.

Paula holds her ground and waits for the first fence to get pushed down. It won’t take long. Sniffing the air she can’t make out the smell of gas from here, but the force of the explosion will still be dangerously close. She gauges the distance to the front gates and calculating how long it will take to sprint that way. The gas bottle lorries are behind the building, which means the solid structure will take some of the energy from the explosion and give her a few more seconds to get away.

If she goes any further she will lose line of the sight with the trucks, no it has to be here. Right here. She draws the flare gun out and breaks the barrel open, checking the flesh flare is loaded and ready.

With the sound of metal being twisted the fence starts to buckle inwards from the sheer press of bodies forcing themselves against it. She takes aim, holding the flare gun out in front of her towards the row of lorries.

The fence falls down with a whump, bodies sprawling out from the sudden loss of resistance and getting trampled by the immediate surge that follows. A loud howl goes up at the same time as the things realise their prey is now but seconds away from being taken.

Here goes, she pulls the trigger and watches the trail of the flare as it scorches across the air and straight over the top of the trucks to sail off into the distance.

Missed. She missed the only shot. With a determined growl she yanks the rifle round and starts firing at the gas bottles on the truck. The sharp crack of the rifle sounds out, followed instantly by the pinging of the low calibre bullets bouncing off the side of the hardened gas bottles.

She aims lower for the fuel tank of the vehicle, grimacing with horror at the sight of the huge horde now pouring across the ground towards her.

Shot after shot goes into the lorry, she strikes a tyre blowing it out. The lorry sags which causes the bottles to lurch over, they start to fall from the back banging noisily to the ground and rolling across the concrete base.

Paula twists round and starts firing at the big tank in the corner, repeatedly pulling the trigger. A gas canister falls from the truck and hits hard against the ground causing a single solitary spark. One spark that ignites the gas in the air turning it into an instant fireball that blows out sideways straight into the horde.

Paula’s blanches at the sight, unaware of the spark from the falling canister but taking full advantage of the distraction to start running like crazy towards the gate.

The fire roars across the ground as it ignites more gas escaping from bottles. The first one goes up with a dull thud which sends it soaring high into the air like a missile.

Paula hears it go but doesn't waste time in looking but is head down and sprinting with everything she’s got.

More canisters start going up, some with dull thuds as the valve ignites and forces the bottle away like a rapidly deflating balloon. Others explode like giant grenades that send super-hot chunks of ragged metal deep into the horde.

Like a pressure wave hitting them they go down, the force of the explosion and ragged metal ripping them to pieces.

Reaching the gates Paula grabs the bars and starts pulling hand over hand, cursing loudly when the gate swings out with her still trying to climb it.

Check the bloody thing is closed next time, she berates herself inwardly and keeps running, heading deeper into the units of the estate.

Turning back after a full two minutes of running round and between the commercial buildings she almost feels disappointed at the lack of anything to see. The gas burns itself out cleanly and doesn't create any smoke. The flames are forced out along the ground so don’t go high into the air.

But the heat builds and the pressure builds with it. The gas ignited from the opened canisters heats the air well beyond the safe operating temperature of the bottles.

The remaining bottles explode, the rapidly heating gas expanding inside the pressurised containers and literally forcing the metal to shred apart. Bang after bang sounds out as they go, mini fireballs scorch up with each one. Paula nods, satisfied that she at least got a visual aid that something is happening.

It won’t take them long to find a way round it so she moves off, running further into the estate and again clocking the position of the downs to guide her away from the town centre.

Hundreds dead already and she only just arrived.

A thought hits her, that the power and might of an exploding gas facility is great, but it will still only kill a set amount. If she could have used those bottles to plant and prepare she could have caused much worse damage. But on the run like that, she only got a few in relation to the overall size.

Suddenly the task seems so much harder, something she maybe shouldn’t be taking on. The children already paid with their lives and in a truly awful way. A glimpse of movement and she ducks left, heading down the side of another unit to crouch and listen. The sound of footsteps grow louder, feet drumming on the ground as more of the things flood past heading for the fire, cutting her route off and forcing her to remain still.

Working quietly down the side of the unit she reaches the rear and drops down, trapped in a courtyard with a high wall running round the end, sheer sided with broken glass embedded on the top. No way over it. The only way out is back up the side and out the front, which is now crawling with undead moving towards the fire.

They seem different, more organised and cohesive. If there is another Thomas here he must have a tight grip on them. Paula berates herself instantly for assuming it would be a male undead, why not a female?

If just one of them comes down here she’ll be spotted. The ground is clear and open with nothing she can hide behind or under.

She looks at the rear of the building, the door is secure and fastened shut. The only way in would be the window but that would mean breaking it and causing noise.

Trapped. Failing to save the children and trapped in a stinking industrial estate. She rests her head against the pane of glass cursing her misfortune and listening to the gas bottles still exploding in the near distance.

They’re exploding properly now, not just thudding off but detonating like bombs. Without pausing to think she twists the rifle round and taps the butt against the pane, waiting for another loud bang of an exploding gas bottle. As one goes up she taps the glass and winces. Not hard enough so she waits again, holding the butt inches away from the glass pane. Now, she hits the glass immediately after another quick explosion, the glass fractures, seemingly noisy from being stood right next to it.

With the rifle reversed and held ready she waits for them to come thundering down the side of the unit. Nothing. Going low she peers round and finds it clear. Back at the window she waits for more explosion before raking the rifle round the glass and out the frame.

Before climbing in she shoes the broken glass away from underneath the window, scattering it further down and into the gap between the door and the ground. Satisfied she climbs up onto the windowsill and crabs through the hole, dropping down and holding in a crouch.

The room looks like a staff room, except it’s a filthy staff room. Old blue cushioned chairs covered in oil stains, the table littered with salt and pepper pots, tomato ketchup bottles and everything covered in grimy oil smears.

Even the once white sink is mostly black from grime and an industrial size tub of abrasive hand wash rests by the sink.

Dirty coveralls hang from hooks by the door, posters of topless models adorn the walls. Without going any further Paula knows the place is a garage, an old style back street dirty garage with hairy men with fat stomachs and tattoo’s staring hungrily at every woman that dares walk in.

A foreign environment and one that sent shudders through her. Simply because the people here knew more about cars than she would ever know, which meant she had to rely on them and take their word for whatever was wrong, which is something she had grown to hate over the years.

Scanning round she looks for something to prop in the broken window, anything will do, even if it just blocks the eye from registering a freshly broken pane of glass.

In the end she settles for the large side of a cardboard box, using her knife to cut it down to size and pushing it hard against the gap. Using the tub of hand-wash to hold it in place she rushes out of the room into the large main workshop, several vehicles sit high on ramps or jacked up with bonnets open and mechanical entrails littering about.

Going from workstation to workstation she finds what she’s looking for and heads back into the staff room, using the sticky tape to secure the cardboard to the window, then changing her mind she pulls it off and finds a marker pen, scrawling this building is alarmed on the side before sticking it back up, then she pulls it off again and smears from oily dirt over the edges to make it look old, her art project finished she sticks it back up and stands wondering what to do now, biting her bottom lip as she looks round.

Thirsty, it’s hot and she’s sweating profusely, replenish the fluids and find some food. The tap still runs so she leaves it on for a minute to draw any stagnant water out and starts looking through the mugs. All of them filthy and tea stained.

Using a scouring pad and a new bottle of washing up liquid that looks like it has never been touched, she scrubs a mug clean, rubbing the brown stains away until it gleams in the original ceramic white colour with a picture emblazoned on one side.

‘You are shitting me,’ she shakes her head at the cover image for the movie 28 days later on the side of the mug. You couldn’t make it up she muses, filling the now clean mug and drinking deeply.

She searches the room for food, finding a couple of chocolate bars in the rancid fridge, her fingers squish the melted chocolate as soon as she touches it. Discarding the ruined bar she keeps looking but finds only pasta pots and noodles which require hot water.

Sounds of feet scuffing from outside, she freezes and listens intently. Footsteps getting closer, coming down the side. Backing away from the staff room she moves into the workshop, scanning round for somewhere to hide.

A small customer office over the other side near the front, she gets inside but other than under the desk there’s nowhere to tuck away.

Back into the workshop and she spots a single wooden door on a partitioned section in the corner. Pulling the door open she winces at the rancid smell of stale urine and human waste, grimacing at the sight of the filthy toilet bowl. No air flow in here, just stale air mixed with the waste of all the mechanics using it every day.

Holding at the door she looks round for somewhere else, anywhere else but this is the only place. She drags a stack of old tyres over and places them in a pile by the door, making sure she’s got just enough to squeeze inside. Again it’s not perfect but it might draw the eye away from the door.

The scrapes and knocks sound from the rear double doors, just feet from her position. Low groaning noises and scuffs as feet are dragged and placed noisily.

Taking a big breath of semi clean air she heads into the toilet and quietly pushes the door closed before slumping down in the pitch dark with her back to it, staying as far away as possible from the filthy toilet bowl.

Fourteen

With Dave and Lani on the top wall looking out I take the opportunity to speak with Clarence while the lads piss about moving the vehicles to get to an old lorry. We both stare up at the two slight figures standing with their backs to us, the smaller shape of Meredith lying down next to Lani.

‘So?’ He says at length, ‘what do you think?’

‘Dunno mate, I want to believe it but what are the chances?’

‘You think it’s another trick?’ he speaks quietly, voice low and muted. I don’t know what to think so I don’t answer for a minute, ‘Boss?’ He prompts.

Shrugging I try and find a clear thought process in my head, ‘Why Lani? Why not you or one of the lads? Why her? Of all the thousands and thousands of undead we’ve killed, every one of them being a person before they were infected…why Lani?’

‘There’s always the chance that I am immune, or Dave or any of us…we won’t know unless we get infected…’

‘Nah, you think so?’ I look up at him.

‘Not really,’ he shrugs, ‘just thinking it through.’

‘Right,’ I start off with my hand in front, palm turned up, ‘we find each other right, I was going into London and we meet you and Chris, then we get down here and get the fort…now there can’t be many places like this so that’s makes us kind of unique, plus we’ve killed so many, which again makes us unique…then we not only hear about Meredith but we find her too, again that makes us unique…and now with Lani? It just seems…I don’t know…’

‘There’ll be hundreds of communes and places like this,’ Clarence says inclining his head behind us and clearly meaning the fort even though we’re stood in it, ‘plus other survivors could have killed as many as us and we still don’t know if it is just Meredith or all that breed…we might not be as unique as you think.’

‘So if we look at it like that,’ I pick up on his train of thought, ‘then Lani being immune or repressing it or whatever she’s doing, then it could genuinely be that she’s the one in a million…or billion….or whatever comes after billion.’

‘Trillion.’

‘One in a trillion then…but we only had about fifty million in this country so…maybe one in fifty million…but like you just said we don’t know that, there could be loads of people the same as her, we just haven’t met them.’

‘Sorry to bring her up, but Marcy was different, she had a chance to infect you and she didn’t, she had time to take all of us but she didn’t.’

‘Why not? If the plan was to pump out pheromones so we all get turned then why not do it when the battle was on, or when we were sleeping?’

He shrugs and shakes his head, exhaling a long breath at the same time, ‘I get the impression that Marcy meant what she said when she first turned up and the pheromone thing came later.’

‘Yeah I did think that,’ I agree glumly, ‘fuck this is hard, the end of days should be easy and running about killing zombies not wondering about this kind of shit.’

He laughs and looks round at the sea of bodies stretched out in every direction, ‘we not killing enough for you then?’

‘Well,’ I exclaim loudly, ‘we can only do what’s in front of us, we get this place sorted and worry about it after…’

‘I’ll get the digger and see what the lads are doing,’ he strides off towards the gate leaving me alone and thinking hard. Glancing up I see Lani turned and staring down at me. I wave and she just stares back before turning away.

I remember at work, in the supermarket that when I felt stressed or worried I’d go onto the shop floor for a bit and stock some shelves. The repetitious work somehow soothed my mind and enabled me to think a lot clearer. Looking round at the bodies I wonder if clearing these away will be the same thing.

Shuffling over I get to the closest one and look down at the decaying mess of what was once human flesh and is now just a bloodied, barely recognisable corpse. Red eyes stare up at me lifelessly, the mouth hangs open with flies buzzing in and out of the cavity. Bending closer I see fat white maggots writhing inside against the swollen tongue. Somehow, it just doesn't look the same as a crate of baked beans in tomato sauce that needs opening and putting on the shelf.

The heat is already decaying them, the flesh will tear easily now and will be a bloody nightmare trying to clear them by hand. I snort to myself at thinking of it as a bloody nightmare, bloody in more ways than one.

This fort was thriving just yesterday. Thousands of people feeling maybe that first stab of hope that they can get through it. Who was to blame? Sergeant Hopewell for not getting the security done faster? Or whoever messed up and let them get inside?

Not that it matters now. A loud diesel engine chugs to life somewhere between the two gates, followed by another one a few seconds later, this one much louder. Staring at the gate I watch as first Clarence drives a big yellow digger through with a massive metal scoop on the end of the extending arm, then Nick behind the wheel of a tatty old flatbed lorry.

They park up and clamber down to start putting the protective gear on, glasses, thick gloves and face masks.

Why Lani?

It doesn't make any sense. I want to believe in it, I truly do. But after Marcy and all the other things it just seems too good to be true. If she is immune, or has a way of fighting it then we need to do something. We don’t even know for sure if she died before she came back, she might have just got infected and not actually died. Either way her eyes are clear, she’s speaking normally and seems in full possession of her own mind. Nothing about her seems different apart from the wound that’s healed much faster.

She could be the hybrid that Marcy said was possible, all of the good but none of the bad. Not likely though.

‘Here boss,’ Clarence walks over holding a pair of glasses along with the other gear. Taking them I get dressed slowly, still deep in thought as the lads stroll over with freshly lit cigarettes.

‘Ready,’ with the glasses and face mask on I turn round to and sigh again at the sheer number of bodies, then another sigh as I glance up into the clear sky and the heat coming down.

It’s gruesome work, disgusting and filthy but after all the fights we’ve been in I guess we’ve become desensitised to it by now. Clarence gets to work trying to figure out how to use the digger and operate the scoop. Going too high with the scoop and too fast with the speed he ploughs into the bodies squashing them under the big wheels and driving the metal prongs of the digger through the corpses instead of under them.

The lads burst away from the shower of guts and body parts that get thrown up, yelling in disgust as Clarence grins and stops the digger. Pulling levers about he smashes the scoop down, flattening more bodies, then up too high and going forward, driving yet more of them into the ground.

‘I’ll get it,’ he shouts above the noise of the engine. Concentrating hard he lowers the scoop bit by bit until Nick shouts for him to stop, then he inches forward again guided by Nick until the scoop is full of bodies. With a yell and a thumbs up Nick steps back, watching as Clarence pulls more levers to lift the scoop up.

He starts turning in a wide circle, flattening and popping more bodies as he goes round. Facing the right way he jolts the digger forward and presses something that makes the scoop tilt forward dropping all the bodies back onto the ground.

The lads all cheer and clap as Clarence goes red in the face and backs up, re-adjusting the scoop and trying again. Each time he does it the bodies get mangled more and more, becoming a heap of limbs and torsos instead of whole corpses.

Finally he gets one in the scoop and lifts it up, the lads cheering as he starts inching forward towards the lorry. The single mangled body has one leg hanging out, threatening to pull the rest of the body down.

Clarence stares at the dangling limb, sending thought waves of exactly what he’ll do if it dares fall out. Which then causes a problem as he’s watching the leg and not where’s he’s going and drives into the side of the lorry with a loud bang. Amazingly, the body stays in the scoop and the big man doesn't even glance at the lorry but operates the scoop to drop the body into the flat bed.

‘YES! GET IN!’ He bellows with a roar, standing up with his arms in the air. The lads cheer and applaud, we hear a whistle and look up to see Lani with her fingers in her mouth and waving down.

‘That’s one,’ I shout over, ‘nine hundred and ninety nine to go…’

‘On it,’ he shouts back buoyed up at his success. We watch as he goes back and attacks them again, causing more damage and just making it harder to get the flattened bodies up. He drives the scoop too low and grinds a huge divot of earth up. Cursing as he operates the scoop to drop the earth and change direction, going for another pile further on.

In the end we pile in, the lads and I grabbing bodies to stack them into little piles for Clarence to get at. It works better and before long we’ve almost forgotten what we’re doing and shouting to each other as we work. Or clothes get covered in gore and we slip and slide through the mess, chatting away as we bend down to scoop bits of bodies up.

At one point I look up to see Cookey a few metres away holding an arm as she explains something to Blowers who just nods back as though it’s completely natural. Cookey even uses the arm to emphasise whatever point he’s making before glancing at the limb and throwing it onto the pile.

Clarence does get the hang of it, eventually. The lorry gets filled up with bodies and then Clarence has the bright idea of using the scoop to pat them down and make more room. We all see what he’s planning and we all try to shout, but he does it anyway and it does work to a certain extent but also reminds me of squashing your hand down on a sponge cake and watching the jam in the middle ooze out the sides.

The scoop bounces down, rocking the lorry on its suspension, the hydraulic arm whirring as it lifts and drops with a squelchy thud. Bloodied things get popped and drop out and he goes back for another scoop.

Nick gets into the lorry, Clarence swaps to the fuel tanker and we clamber in, driving out through the gates to the flatlands, leaving Dave and Lani on the top wall. We go slow as the unmade road bounces the lorry about, threatening to spill the bodies out.

We head into the estate, or what was the estate and pull up next to the already huge pile of bodies. Even with the face masks on the smell makes us want to gag. Putrid foul eggs mixed with sulphur and rancid meat. Insects buzzing everywhere and the cadavers almost writhe from the maggots living within them. There were bodies here since the first attack by Darren, and Marcy stacked the people from the fort here too after the big fight yesterday.

The sight is indescribable, just solid mounds of bodies in varying states of decay. None of us look too hard for fear of seeing faces and features we’d recognise.

Nick operates the back of the lorry, holding a button down that pushes the hydraulic arm up to lift the flat bed. It grinds noisily, threatening to give out and I notice Clarence innocently looking away and pretending not to notice.

It does lift and the bodies slide down to land in a wet heap on the scorched ground.

‘We burning these now or all in one go?’ Nick shouts out.

Looking about I can see we’ve got enough space to make more piles and burn these now, but that would mean coming back up here with the bodies on fire.

‘We’ll do them all when we’ve finished,’ I shout back which means there was no need to bring the fuel tanker up here.

Driving both back we head back inside the fort and park up in the same positions and take five minutes to get water and have a smoke.

‘DO YOU WANT TO SWAP?’ Dave bellows down.

‘Cookey, Blowers you go up and get out the sun for a bit.’

‘You sure Mr Howie, don’t seem right getting Dave to shift bodies like this.’

‘Ah get on,’ Clarence shouts, ‘what you on about? He’ll love it.’

‘Can I do the digger this time?’ Nick asks quickly.

‘Fill your boots mate,’ I nod and laugh as he runs off, clambering up the side. Clarence strolls after him shaking his head, ‘hang on Nick, let me show you…’

‘I’ll figure it out,’ Nick shouts back and starts the ignition. Clarence stands back watching as he does the thing with his hands hovering over each stick, lever and button while murmuring to himself. He grabs levers and starts pushing and pulling, watching the hydraulic arm lift, drop and the scoop tilt up and down.

‘Clever fucker,’ Clarence looks at me with a shocked expression. Nick powers forward and aims the scoop perfectly. Slicing the pronged bottom lip under a pile of corpses and shovelling them into the bowl with his forward momentum. He judges it right and lifts the arm while tilting the scoop up, securing the bodies safely within.

‘I hate him,’ Clarence mutters, stomping over to start throwing bodies into a pile. The other two lads get up the top and stand talking to Dave and Lani for a minute before heading towards the Saxon.

Within a couple of minutes they’re both down the bottom with us, pulling gloves, masks and glasses on.

‘I said Meredith should stay on a lead,’ I approach Lani as the dog scampers about sniffing the ground with her tail going crazy.

‘You did,’ she replies flatly, ‘but how do I do that and shift bodies?’

‘Well you don’t, you stand back and hold the dog.’

‘Here,’ she throws the lead at me as she walks past, ‘you hold her.’ I turn to watch her stride off, waving at Clarence who nods back as he throws another body with ease.

She gets stuck in, heaving at a corpse to drag it over. I watch her for a minute, and she knows I watch as she point blank refuses to look back in my direction but starts making conversation with Clarence.

‘Mr Howie,’ Dave nods in greeting as he walks past, heading over to them both, but I notice he stays quite close to Lani and despite being seemingly focussed on the task at hand I know he’ll have one eye on her.

‘Just me and you then,’ I look down at Meredith. She stares up at me grinning with her tongue hanging out. But clearly I’m not as interesting as Dave and Lani as she trots off to join them and within minutes she gets the idea and starts digging into the corpses with her front paws, splattering the ground behind her with sodden bits of body. She doesn't so much as help as cause an almighty mess but she seems quite happy so she gets left alone.

Nick operates the digger with far greater finesse than Clarence, scooping bodies up to drop them into the lorry, and this time he uses the heavy scoop to flatten them down before loading them up. Which also doesn't work either as it just creates more of a mess.

The second load is done and this time just Nick and I head out with the lorry, leaving the others in the fort getting the bodies ready.

I drive while Nick gets the smokes out, both of us sweating heavily but maybe there was something in my earlier thought process as the work has cleared my mind and I feel a great deal more settled.

‘You think she is immune boss?’ Nick asks, clearly thinking the same thing.

‘I hope so mate,’ I reply, ‘time will tell.’

‘I think she is,’ Nick says confidently.

‘What makes you say that?’ I ask with a laugh, then curse as we hit a pothole and a body drops from the back.

‘Dunno,’ he grins, ‘just do, why not? Lani is fucking awesome so why not her?’

‘Yep,’ I nod back, ‘she is that mate.’

We get into the estate and back the lorry up to the fresh pile. Nick jumps out to press the button and we stand there watching as it slowly tilts up and the bodies slide out into another wet sticky pile.

‘What’s that?’ Nick asks, turning to face away from the flatlands.

‘What?’ I spin round but don’t see anything. Nick releases the button and quickly shuts the engine off. We stand in silence for a second but then he starts nodding and looking at me.

‘Engines?’ I ask him quietly at the distant rumble.

‘Definitely,’ he replies.

‘Get the rifles ready,’ I press the button in to raise the back, watching as the last of the bodies fall out, then push it back in again and stand tapping my foot as it slowly lowers back down.

‘Nick, did you bring a radio?’

‘No, did you?’

‘Bollocks, we’ll drive back…get in mate,’ I leave the back raised slightly and get in the driver’s seat. Nick stares at the entrance to the estate. As soon as we start the lorry the sounds of the oncoming vehicles are drowned out.

Getting back onto the unmade road I get the speed up, bouncing over the potholes and rough surface that shakes and vibrates the old lorry, and us within in.

Nick leans out the window, staring back along the track until he shouts they are in sight, then more of them.

‘Bloody loads Mr Howie,’ he shouts, ‘all vans and trucks,’ he slumps back into his seat and stares forward, then thinks better of it and leans back out to wave his arms at the fort.

The silhouette of the Saxon stands alone on the top wall, then movement as one of the lads pops up in the middle.

Clarence runs out the front and grabs the gate, planting his legs wide as he heaves it closed; normally a two man job that he does with apparent ease. The others must be inside closing the inner gate.

He disappears inside as we pull up, parking the blood smeared lorry to the side we jump out with our rifles and run for the gate.

Aiming for the single walk through gate I meet Clarence coming the other way and find myself on the floor after bouncing off his massive chest.

‘Sorry,’ he picks me up, virtually lifting me from feet, ‘who are they?’

‘No idea, but they’ve slowed down,’ I remark spotting the now slow moving convoy heading down the road.

‘You got a radio?’

‘No boss,’ he replies shaking his head, ‘Blowers is grabbing them from the Saxon, Cookey’s on the machine gun.’

‘Dave and Lani?’

‘Getting the inner gate closed, Dave has given Lani an assault rifle but the magazine is empty.’

‘Was she alright with that?’ I ask with a worried frown.

‘Not really, but she sees knows we’ll all look the part.’

‘You on about my empty gun?’ She asks stepping out.

‘Yeah…er…sorry.’

‘Not your fault,’ she says stiffly, ‘I can always throw it at them.’

‘I got the radios,’ Blowers runs out breathing hard as he hands them round.

‘Cookey, you hearing me?’

‘Yeah loud and clear, who are they?’

‘No idea, how far back do you need them to stop with the angle of fire.’

‘Walk forward and I’ll tell you…bit more….bit more….yeah that’s fine…’

‘You got the binoculars up there?’ Nick asks through the radio.

‘Fuck yeah…hang on…’

‘Don’t swear on the radio Alex.’

‘Sorry Dave…er…wait a minute….it looks like Maddox in the front one,’ he adds after a spell.

‘Really?’ I ask.

‘Looks like him, yeah and that girl too, definitely them.’

Exchanging glances we walk a bit more down the road, Meredith back on her lead held by Lani. We spread out into a line, Dave standing next to Lani. The first long van slows down and comes to a stop several metres back from us but with the sun glinting off the windscreen I can’t see who is inside.

The doors open and Maddox jumps down from the driver’s side, closely followed by Lenski out the other.

‘Mr Howie,’ he calls out with one hand up in greeting, ‘alright to come up?’

‘Yes mate, of course,’ I stride towards him with a big grin, letting them know we’re happy to see them.

‘Darius, tell ‘em to stay in the vehicles for now,’ Maddox calls back as another thick set youth walks up from the second vehicle. We hear a muted radio transmission as Darius speaks into a black handset, pausing briefly to make sure the order is being followed before walking down.

‘Bloody hell mate, what’s going on?’ I stick my hand out which he takes with a firm grasp.

‘We thought about what you said,’ he answers with a smile.

‘Lenski isn’t it?’ I offer her my hand, ‘nice to see you again.’

‘You too,’ she gives a quick shake. Clarence and the lads all say hello, exchanging quick handshakes which takes a few minutes as Darius and another girl come forward and join in with the greetings.

‘So what you doing here then?’ I finally ask.

The smile fades slightly from his face, a serious expression replacing it as he looks back with his deeply intelligent eyes, ‘like I said, we thought about your offer.’

‘You brought everyone with you?’ I step out to look down the road at the vehicles stretched out.

‘Yeah, but I wanted to talk to you before we agree if we coming in or not.’

‘Right?’ I look to each of them noticing the resolute looks on their faces, something planned and prepared.

‘I don’t want you to think we’re coming with our tail between our legs, we ain’t running scared,’ he says firmly, ‘we got supplies, loads of food and other equipment, we got weapons and the crews might be young but they’re disciplined and I wanted to agree terms before we do anything…’

‘Hang on a minute mate,’ I put my hand up cutting him off, ‘we we’re going to come and see you later anyway and ask you to join us…’

He stares back at me with interest, ‘we er…’ I hesitate, not sure exactly what to say or where to start, ‘they got inside yesterday and turned everyone.’ I blurt out.

‘What?’ Lenski steps forward staring at the fort with a look of horror, ‘is this why you outside?’

‘Eh? No! We killed them all and well…other things happened too…’ My voice trails off as I glance at Lani, who ignores me with one eyebrow arched, telling me exactly what she thinks.

‘But yeah, everyone’s dead,’ I shrug, my voice drops low as a sudden stab of hurt goes through me at the thought of Sarah and everyone else.

‘Jesus,’ Maddox sweeps his gaze across us, ‘you killed them all? You said you had thousands.’

‘We did,’ I nod back wincing at the memory of Sarah running towards me with her lips pulled back.

‘Listen,’ Lani steps forward, taking over from me as I struggle to compose myself for a second, ‘it’s been bloody terrible, everyone got killed and the fort is covered in bodies. We’ve started clearing them out but, well you’re welcome here, all of you,’ she speaks clearly with a strong voice, ‘we’ve still got loads of food and everything but adding your stuff will be good. We were going to come and ask you to move here with us, the fort is too big for us to defend so we need more people and Mr Howie said you were the obvious choice, seeing that your crews are disciplined and organised.’

They stay quiet for a second, shock etched into their faces as the realisation hits them.

‘The fort is safe,’ Lani stresses, ‘we weren’t here when they got inside so we don’t know how it happened but we had problems with some other people, so we think they just didn’t guard the gates properly…did you see the refinery go up yesterday?’

They nod back, looking at each other again, ‘it was the refinery then?’ Maddox asks.

‘That was us,’ Lani continues, ‘we were getting fuel when it happened here, we’ve lost everyone…our families, friends…the doctors and well…everyone,’ she adds quietly.

‘Oh,’ Lenski says quietly with a pained look, ‘that is bad, so for you…I…’ she pauses as she thinks of the right words, ‘we are so sorry this happen, we did not know this.’

‘How would you,’ I shrug, ‘but as Lani said, the fort is empty now, just us left…so you’re welcome to join us.’

‘Got some clearing up to do first,’ Clarence adds.

‘We can help,’ Maddox states, his voice quiet and low as he absorbs the information, ‘we got plenty of people and my crews will…’

‘Our crews please,’ Lenski corrects him.

He smiles with good humour, ‘our crews will get them cleared away…I’m really sorry for all your loss,’ he adds seriously, showing a respectful nature that belies his appearance.

‘We get people turning up every day,’ Lani replies, ‘so we need to get it done as quickly as possible, plus we’ll need guards on the gate at the front and back and on the walls…inside is a real mess…’

Clarence and I glance at each other as Lani lists the immediate tasks that need to be done.

‘…You can stop staring at me now,’ she says for our benefit which earns some confused looks from Maddox and the others, ‘come inside and we’ll show you what we mean,’ she adds.

Lenski steps forward quickly, walking beside Lani as the rest of us follow them through the gates.

‘These gates open up to let vehicles in and we keep them all in here between the walls…those tents were our medical assessment points, anyone coming back in had to be checked fully before they were admitted,’ Lani gives a running commentary as we walk across and into the fort proper, carrying her empty rifle across her chest in the relaxed position.

‘Fuck me,’ Darius states slowly as they step inside. Maddox, to his credit, remains mostly expressionless but just stares across at the thick layer of mangled bodies that look even worse now from lying in several hours of heat and having been run over and squashed by the digger.

‘See what we mean?’ I ask as they stand in silence taking the view in.

‘All these…people, they lived here?’ Maddox asks slowly.

I hesitate just long enough for him to shoot me a hard look, caught out and there’s no point starting off on deceit. ‘It’s a long story that you can either hear now or later.’

‘This is big place yes?’ Lenski looks up from the bodies and takes in the size of the interior, her head turning as she follows the wall all the way round, ‘the doors, what they for?’ She points to the recessed and wooden doors along the walls.

‘Stores, offices, armoury, engineering rooms…all sort of stuff. Most of the people lived here in tents, a few of us had rooms, ours are at the back and we used the police offices to organise everything as they’re most central.’

‘Police offices?’ Maddox queries.

‘We had police here until yesterday, we had doctors, engineers and even a vet…gone now, all gone.’

The four of them look at me, reading the hurt expression on my face. In a way I feel better that I am feeling the pain of loss. That there is a burning jolt inside me every time I think of Sarah and the others. Something I haven’t felt before, no guilt or remorse or pain, just numb. Even now the feeling isn’t strong like it should be, but buried deep and easily swallowed down.

‘Whole place was thriving, thousands of people, families, children…what a fucking waste,’ I shake my head sadly, ‘an absolute fucking waste.’

‘How did they get in?’ Maddox asks, watching me closely.

‘Don’t know,’ I say quietly, ‘they can talk now so maybe they just walked up to the gate or something, we had issues about the interior defence and security but it wasn’t taken seriously and they paid for it. A few people at the top who couldn’t make their minds up and were too twisted with grief and power to see what should be done.’ I look back at Maddox, then at all of them, ‘but that won’t happen again…not ever.’

‘I understand,’ he nods holding my gaze.

‘If you are going to stay here then we get the basics sorted before anything else, that means…as Lani said, security round the clock on the gates and we get a vetting process set up for new people arriving.’

‘You gonna let new people in then?’ He asks.

‘Definitely, that’s the most important thing…the most important thing,’ I emphasise, ‘it has to be safe and we have to learn from someone else’s fuck up and make sure it doesn't happen again. We got better guns here than you have, assault rifles and stuff. Your lads can use them but only if you agree to take instruction from my lot first.’

‘Agreed,’ Maddox nods.

‘The food will be split evenly and shared out with someone guarding it all the time.’

‘Agreed,’ he replies again.

‘We keep the police office as the central point and we…as in us’ I motion to all of us stood there, ‘run things from there, there will be a running order here and that means I am in overall charge but you run your crews. My team stay together all the time so if we go out or something, then you are in charge.’

‘Agreed.’

‘Your crews are your responsibility and we won’t interfere unless absolutely necessary.’

‘That is my main condition,’ he cuts in, ‘they will listen to you, I’ll make sure of that but they take time to respect new people especially anyone they see as authority…they look rough but they’ll get better. As for discipline you have no concerns.’

‘Agreed,’ I smile at him, ‘anything else?’

‘There will be,’ he looks away, ‘but not right now, you understand that we’re not running to you yeah?’

‘I get it mate, we’re joining forces. We need someone to run the fort while we’re not here, someone who can make decisions quickly for the benefit of everyone and someone who won’t become a fucking dick about it too.’

‘I make sure of this yes?’ Lenski adds with a quick smile, ‘what is first to be done?’

‘Bodies need removing,’ Maddox replies then looks at me, ‘you alright if I get my crews on security now at the front and back?’

‘Please do, we’ve got a couple up there keeping look out with heavy weapons,’ I point to the Saxon.

‘And the vehicles? Do you want them inside here?’ He asks.

‘How many crews you got?’ Lani asks quickly.

‘We have plenty, we get crew to front yes? And crew to back and two more to take the things from the vehicles and the rest they help you in here yes?’ Lenski replies.

‘Sounds good, let them all come in and have a look first if they want. I don’t think we’ll have enough rooms for everyone so some might have to stay in the open but most of these tents are ruined,’ I explain.

‘We got our own stuff and all the crews will be together outside, if it’s alright with you it’ll only be me and Lenski and Darius and Sierra that need rooms, but we can stay outside too if…’

‘No we got enough for you.’

‘Are you both couples?’ Lani asks.

‘Yeah,’ they nod with looks at each other.

‘You two are the couple yes?’ Lenski asks Lani with a glance to me which causes Nick and Blowers to look away, Clarence to look up at the sky and Lani to glare at me.

‘Not our business,’ Maddox senses the glaringly obvious atmosphere that suddenly descends.

‘You look like the couple before,’ Lenski shrugs.

‘Yeah I thought so too,’ Lani replies sweetly.

‘On that note,’ I cut in with a low voice, ‘we got a lot to do.’

Fifteen

Did she fall asleep? There is no difference between eyes open and eyes closed but her memory has a fuzzy gap. Fully awake now, heart hammering as she remembers where she is, a flood of adrenalin surges through her system. Her body getting ready to fight or flee but she has to stay here until she knows they are gone.

How will she know they are gone? She shifts position and wipes the sweat pouring from her forehead. The stink in here is awful, truly terrible. No air vents and no window so the stench just builds up. Pitch black too, she waves her hand in front of her face but can’t see it. The door she rests against is well made and flush to the floor, no light coming through.

Groping at her watch she presses the small button to illuminate the screen, early evening but still plenty of hours of daylight left. She must have been in here for a couple of hours already.

Thirsty now she has woken up but nothing to drink other than the filth that would be in the toilet bowl. Why did she come in here? The darkness pervades her mind, lulling her into a false sense of security.

There were noises outside, that was it. She got in here and hid, listening to the scrapes as they moved round the outside of the building, but the heat and after effects of the adrenalin made her sleepy, probably light headed from the stench in here too. But at least it should mask her own smell.

Are they clever enough to start searching buildings? Would they do that? They must have seen the direction she ran in.

Time passes slowly. She counts seconds into minutes and checks her watch to test her accuracy, but counting in her head like that makes it feel so slow.

Should she go now or wait longer? Her instinct is telling to wait for darkness. They’re faster and meaner at night but she stands a better chance of moving through the shadows and getting back to her vehicle at night. What if they’ve found it and set up a trap? That needs to be factored in and assessed. She did lock it so they can’t get inside and wait for her. It can’t be that far away, maybe a mile at the most and with all the street lights out this place will be very dark. She knows which direction the hills are so just aim for them and she’ll find her way back. After that? Well, the town is too full for her to attack them without a serious plan in place. Withdraw and think it through, that’s the best option. Find DIY stores in other places and set traps up on the roads.

But then why are they all here? This town is isolated, only a few roads in and the hills on one side and the sea on the other. No reason to come here unless it is for something specific. Out of sight too. Maybe just a safe place for them to stay, but that doesn't make sense. Stay here for what reason? Just for sake of staying here? No. Something else. Something nearby that they want and they need large numbers for.

What was that? A noise inside her small room, a faint scuffing sound. Listening intently she convinces herself it as her imagination before it happens again. A noise like paper rustling. Rats maybe? Coming silently out of the toilet bowl to lurk and scurry about. Rats don’t bother Paula, but the thought of the room slowly filling up with them sends a shiver down her spine.

Slowly she feels for her lighter and draws it out of her pocket, feeling for the serrated wheel to push down on. The small flame flickers brightly, illuminated the tiny room. She casts about but nothing there. A rat would be seen instantly in here.

Outside, another noise. Something scuffing against the back of building. Then the rustling from inside the room comes again, faint but quick. Worried that the lighter make noise she feels for the small pen torch in her pockets. Groping about and gently prising it free from the depths of her cargo trousers. The end twists on, no buttons to press that make noise.

She holds the torch ready, intently listening for it to happen again. Outside, more scuffing and then a low groan. They must be at the back, right by the rear doors. A dull thud then another followed by something crashing to the floor in the staff room. Stock still she remains, her hand gripping the torch, eyes wide and mouth open slightly.

It has to be the cardboard she put across the window, they’ve pushed it in and knocked something from the counter top.

The rustling from inside again. She twists the end of the torch, the powerful beam of light sweeps over the room picking out the bit of crumpled paper in the corner. Keeping the torch on it she watches as it twitches and moves. Staring with interest as it jerks with tiny movements.

Another bang as something else falls from the counter in the staff room. Faint groans and louder scuffing noises. They have to be climbing through the window.

The bit of paper twitches again as she both watches while listening to the noises coming from outside.

No. Please not that. Anything but that. Give me rats or a mouse, anything but that. She holds the torch on the ball of paper watching as the legs start to appear, one then two, three…more come into sight as they grip and pull the huge hairy body up onto the paper. The weight of it flattens the magazine sheet as it sits on top. Eight thick legs branching off from a thick body.

Revulsion grips her as tight as the knot of fear inside her gut. Not here, not now. Anything but that. But the spider doesn't care. It senses the change in the air and feels something else is in here. This place is quiet and dark and lately there have been plenty of flies to eat and now something bigger has come in. Something bigger that needs investigating.

Paula listens in abject terror as the first of the undead falls from the counter to land on the floor with a loud thump and a groan. Then another one. The spider lifts front legs to hold them in the air as though waving at her.

It’s big, bigger than anything she has seen before. Like a mini tarantula with thick legs and solid body. The glossy magazine ball rustles again as it moves. The spider has actual weight that can impact on something else. It moves forward and starts to drop down from the ball, front legs on the floor with the body extended back over the crumpled material.

Sweat pours from her face and drips down her neck. Skin crawling and a feeling of being sick threatens to take over. Since a young child her phobia of spiders has terrified her and many times sent her running and screaming from her room to find her mother and tell her about the eight legged monster on the wall.

Evil malevolent things not from this world. Oozing predator and the way they scurry then stop, and dangle from invisible thread. Lifting their feet up and down gently, twitching and bursting away with a speed that frightens her even more.

This one goes slow, painfully and dreadfully slow which is all the worst for it. She knows she could extend a foot and crush it instantly but the thought of it roots her to the spot. That she would miss and it would jump onto her leg and run up to her waist and over her clothes to get her face. An image of the thing climbing into her mouth, feeling as the teeth or the pincers start taking bites.

Gritting her teeth she suppresses the whimper threatening to spill out and slowly draws her legs in, pulling her knees to her chest. Behind her, the sound of feet scuffing across the floor get closer.

Unable to move now, completely frozen to the spot she keeps her eyes fixed on the eight legged freak as it climbs down deftly from the ball of paper to sit low and squat on the ground. It looks even worse now with those legs splayed out, the classic perfect shape of an enormous house spider. Pure evil radiates from its thick body sending pulsing waves of terror flooding through Paula. She clamps a hand over her mouth, squeezing tight to stop any sound coming out. Her hand holding the torch starts to shake, tiny trembling motions that flicker the beam of light and make the spider dart forward an inch closer to her.

Groans come from outside as the undead shuffle about, sensing her closeness, smelling her trail but unable to see her.

The spider darts another inch. Paula screws her face up and fights the urge to scream with every ounce of strength she has.

Rooted, frozen, trapped and utterly terrified she watches as it remains still. Testing the air and she imagines it sniffing and detecting her fear which must be coming off her in buckets.

The things outside become animated, knowing she must be somewhere, knowing she was in that room. They can smell her, they know she was here.

The spider watches through many eyes and slowly lifts one leg, then another…then another and takes a few tentative steps forward. Slow and careful, watchful as it stalks the prey.

With her feet drawn in the spider has maybe just a few feet before it gets to her, and it would take a second or less if it ran flat out.

She wills herself to think that the creature is small and she is big. It cannot harm her and the bite would be far less than a wasp or bee, no worse than nettle rash. But the thought of one of those legs touching her body, even her clothing or boot is too much to take.

They’re closer now, shuffling towards the door. Groaning with hunger as they move and look and search. The spider twitches and takes another step, the legs rippling with hateful coordination. Stopping after every movement to sense and sniff and taste the air.

So close now she can pick out the stubby hairs on its body and the joints of the legs. Thick straight line of the first section, then a joint and another straight bit, then another joint. Too many joints like knees, too many straight lines that make it look made instead of created by nature. Two stubby pincers stick out from the front, extended eyes like mini legs that waver and move about.

One front legs lifts high and then back down. She can’t look away, she can’t move or do anything but sit here trying to squeeze herself against the door while sending mental orders begging and pleading for it to just go back. Have your end of the room, stay there and I’ll stay here. We don’t have to touch each other. Please just go back. I won’t stay, I promise I will go as soon as I can.

But the spider doesn't think like that. It detects her presence and wants to know what it is that disturbs its lair. What is this thing that comes in here after so much time of darkness and quiet. Curiosity and an ever growing need to eat pushes the spider on. One step, then two. Getting closer each time.

Inside her mind she screams and wails. Her hand now pushing so hard against her mouth she can hardly breathe. Forcing herself to take short soft breaths through her nose instead. Aware of every inch of her own body, of the hard floor underneath her, the hard door pressed against her back. The foul air within this tiny room that chokes and makes her want to gag. Sweat dripping freely down her face, sliding in warm salty rivers over her fingers.

Shit, right at the door now. They must be just steps away. She can hear the ragged breaths they take, inhale and exhale. Another low groan that sounds just inches away. The rustle of clothing as one of them moves.

The spider darts an inch and stops perfectly still. Less than twelve inches from the tips of her boots now. The torch light wavers for a split second then steadies again. The fear ramps up another notch. The things outside brush against the tyres she stacked up, knocking one of them off which bounces against the door. She feels the vibration through her back.

Move your foot and crush it. That’s all you have to do, just step down and kill it. But what if it darts or jumps and lands on her. What if the feet touch her skin?

It knows it is close now, the heat coming from the new arrival is strong. Something with that much heat must have food. Flies, maggots and prey love heat, the spider knows this and takes another step towards her foot.

Paula stares down with wide eyes, the body of the creature is so big, so squat and heavy. Just one step to go and it will touch her.

Vibration against the door and she feels something brush against it. Chesty breathing just the other side. A long inhalation like it’s smelling the air. It thumps against the door, not an attack but a clumsy motion as it navigates the littered floor.

The spider makes the final move and steps to the front of her boot. Lifting one foot it taps the outer edge of her boot. Too light and she can’t feel it, but her imagination runs wild with sensation. Vomit threatening to purge up from her stomach.

Eyes watering from not blinking. The torch light wavers, dims and comes back to full strength. She wills it to stay on, she wills the spider to go away, she wills the things outside to give up and leave.

But today her will is ignored. The gods do not cast favourably upon Paula this day, for as the light grows weaker so the spider uses those strong legs to embed the claws into her boot and start to climb up, the motion is smooth and controlled and it sits on the front of her boot, mere millimetres above her toes. It claims the victory and knows it has almost defeated the invader for she will die from a heart attack any second. The life giving organ in her chest booms so fast her head spins. Terror like no other grips her. A primeval urge to kick out and stamp and stamp while screaming. Move fast, clench your eyes and stamp while beating your hands against your body. Do that and kill it but scream so you don’t know you kill it. Scream and panic so you don’t feel the thick body slowly crushing under hand or under-foot.

They can smell the fear. The stench of the toilet masked her odour, stale and old and they knew it wasn’t the fresh scent of a host waiting to be taken. But now, now there is fear and fresh sweat and it’s right here. Right behind this door.

Bumps and bangs as they move against the wooden door, scuffing and shuffling, feet gliding over the concrete floor. Hard breaths getting faster as they sense the proximity of her.

Torch light dims, slowly fading to a dull glow that weakly illuminates the spider. She shakes her hand, desperately trying to get battery juice to make the bloody light work. The brave torch rallies and fights her corner, pushing a bright light out for a few seconds. But the power drains and no matter how hard the little torch fights it cannot hold on and the beam weakens and fades once more.

The motion of her shake vibrates her body, the sensitive feet of the spider feels the movement and darts an inch, then another. Reaching her laces and starting the slow steady climb towards her leg.

Every muscle is tensed and straining sending waves of energy that pulse from her body. The spider detects the energy and the pheromones she emits, the slight quaver of the tensed contracted muscle.

Cramp starts to grow in the back of her thigh. A tightness that pulls at her hamstring. Searing pain shoots out. Her body urging her to release the muscle and stretch the leg out before injury is sustained.

Another bang against the door. The spider moves. The torch grows weaker still. Tears fall from her eyes as the pain grows and cramps the muscle up, sending shooting barbs of agony into the cheeks of her backside and down the length of her thigh.

The torch dies.

She breathes out in panic.

The spider goes for her leg, the weight of it plucking at the material which she feels.

The things drive harder against the door.

Instinct takes over. Intelligence is gone now. The spider will kill her, it will devour her slowly and lay spider eggs in her mouth that will hatch and thousands of the creatures will climb down her throat to eat her insides and drink from the tears pooling in her eyes.

The cramped leg shoots out, thudding her backwards against the door. She’s on her feet less than a second later. Stamping. Stamping. Hitting at her own body. Clenched fists beating at every inch of her legs. Forgetting the things on the other side of the door she yanks the handle down bursts out, slamming the door into the nearest one. She runs flat into the next one but the power of her panic is so great she sends it sprawling.

The spider had already dropped off and scampered across the toilet back to its corner, but convinced the creature is still on her she beats and hits and stamps down. Vaguely aware of the thing coming at her she lashes out, punching it hard in the side of the head and driving it down to the floor. The only thing she doesn't do is scream. Some intrinsic part of her brain prevents that so she fights quietly. Killing the hundreds of spiders that must now be crawling up her legs and stomach while stamping down on the undead at her feet. Breaking fingers, arms, legs and then beating the skull to a pulp.

The second one rallies and surges in. She doesn't realise or plan the move but the simple explosion of her panic reigns blow after blow into it, driving it down where her feet keep stomping and stamping.

She backs away from the area and scrabbles at her clothes. Convinced the spider has got inside her top she rips it off and stands there in her bra shaking it hard, then throwing it down to stamp on that too.

No, it got inside her trousers. Definitely inside her trousers. She beats every inch of her legs. Sitting down on the ground to press the backs of her legs into the ground while she pummels the front and sides.

Not the legs, her hair. It must have gone for the hair. The baseball cap is thrown down and stamped on, then open hands beat her head all over. But that hurts so she grabs handfuls of hair and clenches her fists, intending to crush and kill any giant evil spiders lurking there.

Topless, bruised, with a painful arse cheek and hair disarrayed she slows down and starts to come back to earth. Breathing hard and the panic abates, easing back gently as common sense screams that the two inch spider must have been killed a hundred times over by now.

Her top is on the floor, her hat further away. The rifle is still in the toilet, left there when she burst out. Two dead bodies lie bleeding with broken bones and crushed skulls. Did she do that? Bloody hell.

She checks the top for any spider corpses and pulls it on, then her hat, beating it against her leg and checking the inch of folded material round the sweat band. Smoothing her hair down she walks quickly to the toilet, peering in and checking the spider hasn’t booby trapped the rifle. All clear so she leans in to grasp the barrel, glancing up to see the fucking thing sat back on top of the paper ball.

It sticks one finger up as she backs away, taunting her and daring to come and try again. sod that, she pushes the door closed and moves well away, almost convinced it will batter the door down to try and attack her again.

She shudders with the after-effects, legs shaking from adrenalin burning off. Standing quietly in the middle of the room she gets her breathing back under control and holds steady until her heart rate goes back to normal. No more noises from outside. No sounds at all. No steps or scuffs.

Another hour to wait then it will be dusk, just hang on till then and get ready to run.

Sixteen

He kicks the door hard, cursing as it refuses to yield. He kicks again harder this time and the door bursts open. Oh yes, there they are; laid out and safe inside the stock room. A feeling of relief floods through him.

Turning round he glances to the front of the shop, checking for movement or sound. He doesn't care if the zombies come here. They can be killed and dealt with. They are visible and real and actual foes that can be chopped, sliced, shot, stabbed or run away from. No, they don’t bother him one little bit.

The butts of two sawn off shotguns poke from the top of his rucksack, in easy reach and ready to be pulled out and used. A heavy bladed sword hangs between his back and the bag, the hilt sticking up behind his shoulder, also ready to be pulled out and used.

Knives on his belt, one on either side. Shotgun shells in the side pockets of his trousers. Food and water in his bag but this, this in here is what he needs.

He ventures inside and starts examining the arrays of bottles and medicines, all of them sealed into plastic cases ready to be opened and put on display on the shelves of the chemist shop.

Yes, new toothbrushes. He needs a new toothbrush desperately, he only brushed his teeth eight times yesterday and then convinced himself the brush would be infected somehow and once that thought was there he couldn’t use it anymore so it was discarded.

Grabbing the case he rips the plastic outer layer away and grabs a hard bristled brush, breaking the cardboard to yank it free. Toothpaste. He scans the shelves and finds a box, breaking it open to pull a fresh tube out.

Easing his bag off he draws a bottle of water out and wets the end of the brush before squeezing a nice thick layer of paste on the end. Then he brushes, and brushes, and keeps on brushing.

The gums are irritated and just the tiniest bit sore. Most likely it’s from the constant brushing but to him, they are growing deadly tumours and diseases that will grow and spread throughout his whole body.

So he brushes. And then he brushes again just to be sure they’re clean. But that isn’t enough, the brushing will only do so much so he scans the shelf for the most important ingredient of the mouth procedure.

‘Come on,’ he mutters. They have bottles of Listerine which is okay, nice and strong. Colgate and other ones, and that stuff that makes the green bits come out. No…where is it?

With a yelp of triumph he grabs the case of Corsodyl mouth wash and starts shredding the packaging. Clinically proven to stop bleeding gums, that’s what he wants. Something that is clinically proven. Not something marketed and sold to idiots with funky adverts. Clinically proven meant something. It meant smart people in white lab coats did tests and stuff.

Twisting the lid off he takes a swig and groans with pleasure at the familiar taste. His last bottle ran out two days ago, which just created a sense of rising panic that if he didn’t get the Corsodyl soon he would develop mouth tumours which would spread. Probably too late, two days without it and they would have started by now. It was only twelve days since this all began and already he had run out of something vital and lifesaving.

He swills the liquid round his mouth, blowing his cheeks out and in to force it into all the nooks and crannies.

Finally he spits it out onto the floor, feeling a sense of relief that he now has a whole six bottles to last him. Maybe he could mix it with water to make it last longer?

He shoves the bottles into his bag and start scouring the shelves again. Remembering the funny sensation he felt in his armpit he looks for wet wipes, specifically antiseptic wipes.

Maybe a slight chaffing from the high temperatures, sweating and clothes rubbing or the crease of his skin. But there was definitely a sensation there, not pain, just a very mild discomfort. Had to be a tumour, they grew in armpits. They grew and spread and that was it; you died.

A groan from the front of the store. He turns round to see a zombie staggering in through the smashed door. Old by the looks of it. Wispy grey hair and skinny limbs attached to a fat body. Turned a few days ago too. Dried blood on its face and down its front.

Why do the things come in here when he had serious stuff to contemplate and deal with? He’s not wasting a shotgun shell on this one, oh no. This one can get stabbed in the face for the sheer impudence of disturbing him. This should be like sacred ground, like a church or something. Just wait outside for him and then they can have a scrap.

Using the sword he plunges the sharp pointy end deep into the face, through the eye socket and into the brain. Then with a kick he sends it backwards and sliding off the sword to land in a heap.

He looks at the sticky goo on the end of his clean sword and frowns before using the corpse to wipe it clean.

Back in the store room he grins with excitement at finding the antiseptic wet wipes and pulls his top off to start cleaning both pits thoroughly. Then for good measure he does his chest and sides, then the arms too. With a thought he undoes his belt and button, opening the front of his trousers to push another wet wipe down to clean his groin.

‘Fuck’s sake,’ he mutters as another zombie shuffles inside. The bloody things can’t just piss off for five minutes can they? Oh no, they got to keep pestering and annoying, drooling everywhere and groaning like idiots.

‘I’m bloody cleaning myself,’ he shouts but the zombie ignores his protests and comes on.

With that one stabbed through the face too he goes back to the cleaning ritual, forgetting what he’s done so far so starting again from the beginning and finishing off with shoving all the packs into his bag.

‘Hmmm,’ he muses, got three packs of multi-vitamins but will that be enough? One a day and sixty in each so that’s what? One hundred and eighty days. What if he loses one or all of them? Yeah, best chuck another one in just in case.

‘What else,’ he asks himself. Sun cream, that was it. It was so hot outside and with an almost bald head he worried about getting burnt which would make tumours grow from his skull which would spread and then you die.

The chemist had loads of different sun creams, too many to choose from which just irritated him. Why didn’t they just have one? How can they all claim to be the best?

‘Bollocks,’ he grabs a factor fifty and squeezes a big dollop of the thick cream into his hands before rubbing it into his head, then down his arms. The only problem with sun cream is that it made the sweat full of chemicals which stung his eyes. He hates baseball caps as the peak cuts down your vision which isn’t good.

So instead he sticks with a floppy brimmed sun hat, the old fashioned type but in an urban camouflage pattern. That wasn’t chosen from choice but just grabbed out of necessity. He would have worn a pink Barbie one if it was the first to hand.

Painkillers and anti-inflammatories get put into the bag. Then the stronger prescription only painkillers. Then some big packets of anti-biotics get shoved in too. All different types and he knew he could use the chemist book to look up what each one did. They were rarely used as he knew the body built up a resistance to them, but they were kept just in case.

Same with the first aid kit, the sticking plasters, bandages, eye wash and everything else he carried.

‘Feet,’ he remembers and scans the shelves once again for the anti-fungal powder. It was hot and feet got moist which harboured bacteria which developed and became skin infections.

Unlacing his boots he shrugs them off and uses the bottle of water to clean the sweat off before rubbing them dry with paper towel. Then a liberal sprinkling of powder which was carefully rubbed in.

Powder was tapped into his socks then everything put back on. Anything else? Nope, that was all he needed.

He shrugs the bag back on and keeps the sword to hand. Fastening the chest and waist strap of the bag he heads outside with the sword held in his right hand.

Sunglasses on and he steps out into the street, rolling his eyes at the sight of the three decrepit zombies shuffling towards him.

They were back to being slow today. Not fast and nasty like they have been sometimes. Why’s that then? Why couldn’t they maintain a constant speed? Too slow in the day and stupidly fast in the night. He’d already figured out they were doing it to conserve energy, that was obvious. So why didn’t they just choose a speed in between the two and stick at that? That would make more sense.

But oh no, it wasn’t like he had enough to contend with, dealing with his immense health problems but he also had to do battle with hordes of screaming zombies every bleeding day.

Stress. That would kill you too. Too much stress would make tumours grow and then you die, or lead to a heart attack, or raised blood pressure.

On that thought he went back inside the chemist, heading for the stock room to find a blood pressure machine. What if he became diabetic? He should check blood sugar too, in fact, come to think about it he was quite thirsty today and that was sign of diabetes. Thirsty and pissing a lot. He suddenly needs a piss, like an urgent pressure on his bladder.

Diabetes. He knew it. He knew something like this would happen. Diabetes and tumours. Shit. Probably one day left to live at the most, that and the high blood pressure.

He finds a blood pressure kit and takes it out the box, reading the instructions while wrapping the thick black sleeve round his arm. Batteries included. That was nice. It was always nice when they put batteries in ready for you. Even if they were the cheap shit ones that ran out really quickly.

Remarkably simply to use so he turns it one and feels the sleeve tighten on his arm. The machine whirred while he read the accompanying booklet. Systolic, oh that didn’t that sound good. He’s definitely got Systolicism and the other one too, oh my…Diastolic. That sounds like a killer. Oh wait, they’re the words for the measuring chart. So Systolic is the heart when it pumps and Diastolic is when it rests between the pumps, so those numbers they always say on the medical programmes when the handsome doctor shouted it was one hundred and eighty over seventy, that’s what it meant.

Nodding with understanding he waits for the machine to calculate his, knowing it will be really high. Probably up there at the top; one hundred and ninety. Easily one hundred and ninety. All this stress and what with the diabetes too. The machine bleeps with flashing numbers.

‘Systolic is one hundred and ten…it’s too low, oh…no that’s perfect…hmmmm. Diastolic is seventy,’ checking the chart he reads that is in the ideal range too. Perfect blood pressure. That can’t be right so he shakes the machine, switches it off, shakes it again and switches it back on.

‘Fucking hell,’ he whines as the next zombie gets to the doorway. He presses the button and waits, feeling the sleeve tighten again. This time will be the proper reading.

‘Just fucking wait,’ he shouts at the shuffler heading across the shop floor. One hundred and ten over seventy again.

‘Fuck it,’ he shouts, so why did he feel so ill if his blood pressure was perfectly okay. The machine beeps with a change as his blood pressure rises another ten to hundred and twenty.

Heart attack. Got to be a heart attack. The zombie groans, making him roll his eyes. Grabbing the sword he walks out and shoves it through the eye, holding the hilt which holds the zombie up while also holding the blood pressure machine in his hand. One hundred and thirty now. Shit, this is it. The final end. He takes a deep breath and waits for the burst of pain to explode in his chest. The machine bleeps again. One hundred and twenty, now one hundred and fifteen and dropping.

It was the zombie that made it rise. He kicks the thing away, pulling his sword free as he stares at the screen.

So his blood pressure was okay. Just the diabetes to worry about now. How would he control that? Insulin, yeah that was it. People took insulin every day.

Back in the store room he finds the stock of blood sugar testing machines, and goes through the same motions; stripping it free from the box and getting it rigged up and ready.

The machine comes with a device to prick the end of his finger, the blood goes on that strip which goes in the machine. He does it quickly, knowing he will have to find the insulin quickly.

‘em em oh el stroke el….what does that stand for?’ He looks again at the letters; mmol/l. Millimoles per litre. What the hell was a mini mole? An image of a burrowing animal with thick glasses swimming through his veins comes into his mind.

‘Five point five,’ he nods at the numbers on the screen. Six must be the limit, so he’s got point five until he dies. Reading the chart he narrows his eyes that the figure is the perfect range between meals.

When did he last eat? Two, maybe two and half hours ago. He had that tinned fruit and some Shredded Wheat.

Not diabetes then. That settles it, it’s gonna be the big one. The big C. Or it could still be the big heart attack waiting to happen.

Outside again he walks towards the last zombie still making its way towards him. Where had all the rest gone? This area was crawling with them yesterday. Just these few left and they looked fit to drop any second. This one could hardly walk and was trailing a leg with the ankle broken at a right angle. How was it still walking? It was limping down and putting its weight on the broken ankle.

He winces with the thought of the pain that must cause. Swinging the sword left and right in a casual manner he walks towards it and side steps at the last second, sweeping the sword through the things neck. The blade bites deep, severing the arteries which spray blood out across the pavement as it slumps down.

Walking on he wonders what to do for the rest of the day. His mouth felt better already, that was for sure. And his armpits too and come to think of it he didn’t feel thirsty or need to urinate anymore now either.

Back to the base for a cup of tea and some reading. Sounds perfect. He’d have to stay in the shade though, this sun was dangerous.

He reaches the car and gets in, a small sporty hatchback; perfect for nipping in and around town and ideal for cornering and accelerating on the short roads. He drives the hatchback out of town and parks in a layby. Leaving it there he climbs out and walks the few paces to the big four wheel drive Volvo. Perfect for the country lanes, holding the road and with great power.

Driving the Volvo he navigates the country lanes driving into a field in a small valley. With higher open ground in every direction he could see everything. Parking the Volvo he walks into the field and across the short grass to the extra-long wheel base high top van left there. The thing was huge, the sort of vehicle the motorbike racing teams use and it was a perfect find.

Clicking the doors he grasps the big sliding door and pulls it back, looking in at his home from home.  He draws the folding chair out and opens it on the grass. The sun is on the other side of the van now so this side is in the shade. Still stupidly hot but at least he will be out of the sun.

He places the sword propped against the van and the bag nearby with the butts poking up ready to be grabbed. He pulls out a long barrelled shotgun and rests that next to the sword before climbing in. The van is high enough to stand upright with a long bench down one side split into hinged doors that prop open with storage space within.

Truck and caravan batteries stacked at one end, several deep and secured against the bulkhead of the van. Crates of bottled water, cases of tinned food, dried pasta, rice and noodles.

A folding camp bed and stacks of smaller batteries, first aid kits and everything imaginable tidily stowed away.

Paper and hardback books rest on a shelf, all of them relating to survival, electrics, hunting and gathering but the majority of the well-thumbed books are medical encyclopaedias.

One battery is separated from the rest, set aside with a multitude of wires coming from the two metal prongs. One set lead to the split relay which charges the battery from the engine. The other wires lead to an inverter fitted with a household plug receptor, enabling him to plug household objects in.

He picks the item currently connected to the inverter and checks the battery level, fully charged. Detaching the charger from the e-reader he drops it into the seat of the chair outside an plugs a small travel kettle into the inverter. Once filled with water he gets a mug ready, choosing a teabag from the many boxes stacked neatly under a bench.

‘Earl grey, a perfect afternoon pick me up and full of anti-oxidants too,’ muttering away to himself he gets the cup ready and waits while the kettle slowly boils the water. Going to the back of the van he drops down to check the fuel containers and still there, wedged out of sight safe and away from the sun. He did have them inside but the smell was too strong so they were removed and put under the vehicle.

With the e-reader charged up he settles down and activates the home page. The Kindle was a great device and when he saw the outbreak starting, and how quickly it spread he correctly sensed what was coming so quickly went online and downloaded every single book relating to survival he could find, then cooking, butchery, health and fitness, mental stimulation exercises, how to books of every description, ranging from How to Succeed In the Workplace to The Art of War. He downloaded tongue in cheek zombie survival guides and then the more serious post apocalypse accounts. In addition to the hundreds of instruction books, he also downloaded as many fiction books as possible. Everything he could find from every genre. The retailer had made it easy with one click purchase. His credit card was already linked in and with the balance being very low he was able to keep going.

Then, while everyone else was fighting for the tins of beans in the supermarket aisles, he was going for the vehicle auto shops to get batteries, inverters, leads, wires and travel accessories. He then went for the local Cash and Carry, getting there before the masses had time to stop and think about safe refuges with good supplies. He set the alarms off but he was in and out within minutes. Going for bulk supplies of essentials that he would need to survive.

A loner anyway, the sudden loss of mankind, civilisation and the fall of society hardly bothered him. What he did miss however, more than anything and what he would give his right arm for, was a doctor. Even one on a phone that he could talk too and relay all the weird symptoms as they arise.

He was forever in the local surgery and on first name terms with the nurses and reception staff. He was almost banned from attending due to the sheer number of emergency appointments he made. But the last doctor to see him understood and humoured the appointments. Knowing the simple act of laying hands on whatever part of his body was complaining now, and then saying “nothing wrong, you’re fine” would see him through for another couple of weeks.

But now there were no doctors and the pressure was building. He had no recourse to medical expertise and had to rely on self-diagnoses from the books, but that just scared him even more.

Fit and healthy, he exercised every day without fail. Going through a varying mixture of cardio and resistance training. He wasn’t huge with bulging muscles but he was strong and lithe. He ate carefully and paid attention to the ratio of proteins to carbs to fats, essential fats and avoiding fatty acids like the plague.

Not just five a day, but most times he was ten fruit and veg a day. His meat had been organic, his food was GM free. Eggs came from free range hens and he avoided processed food like the devil had made it himself.

Now he had a simple life, and one that hadn’t changed that much. Apart from now living out of a van in a field and making the odd trip into the towns and villages to find the bits and pieces he needed.

The shotguns had been sourced from farms and he read about the advantages and disadvantages of sawn off versus long barrel. In the end he opted for both. Keeping the big one at the van and the two sawn offs in his bag for ease of carriage.

The sword had been taken from an antique shop. It was strong with a long blade and decent handle. The balance and weight were perfect and after finding a grindstone and then reading how to put a new edge on he was away; learning how to cut and thrust. Practising for many hours in his field to build his strength up. And it was a good weapon too. The sharp point easily penetrated the sternum to pierce the heart or if they were slow enough he went for the eye socket and the brain.

Cornered or fighting hard and he used the weight and long cutting edge to slash and hack. He had body armour found in the back of an abandoned police car and had taken the small round riot shield too, adding it to his supplies.

It was hot and he didn’t feel like studying right now. The pressure of the day had been hard and finding out he almost had Diabetes and incredibly high blood pressure had worried him immensely. He needed distraction and humour. So navigating the menu he flicked between the Flashman series by George Macdonald Fraser or maybe some Discworld fun instead, Terry Pratchett always made him feel better, and that crazy wizard Rincewind always brings a smile to his face.

Discworld it is so he settles back into his luxury executive folding chair, makes sure his mug of Earl Grey tea is within reach and extends his legs to rest his feet on the edge of the van step.

A few pages in and the ambience starts working; the heat of the day, the stillness of the air, the soothing quality of the tea, the background noise of birds chirping and singing and his eyes are closing. Lids blinking slower and slower and with each drop of the lids, they find it increasingly hard to lift back up.

He lets it take him, sinking deeper into the chair as his head falls down, chin resting low. Eyes closed.

Eyes awake and open. Bathed in sweat and going from sitting to standing and holding both shotguns ready within a split second. Dusk and the heavy curtain of night is coming down quickly. He slept too long and came awake too quickly. Heart racing as he stares around, slowly lowering the shotguns and taking a deep steadying breath.

The Kindle is on the floor having slipped from his lap while he slept. He feels sticky and uncomfortable and his shirt clings to his body. Head fuggy and slow, brain working to catch up.

There’s just no air here, it feels stagnant and oppressive. Putting the sawn offs down he reaches into the van and pulls out a bottle of water, taking a long drink to re-hydrate from the liquid lost while he slept. The remainder of the bottle is poured over his head, soaking the sweat away and sending a pleasant shiver down his spine.

He stretches, pushing his arms out and arching his torso, wincing at the pain in his lower back from staying in the same position for too long. Twisting side to side he tries to stretch it out but it doesn't go.

It’s just muscle pain from sleeping he tells himself but the seed was planted as soon as he felt it, not only planted but watered and harvested too. It might not be muscle pain, it could be a growth, something spreading towards his kidneys and liver.

His heart flutters in panic as he feels the icy grip of fear clutch and twist his stomach. This is it. It’s starting and it will be incurable. Even if a team of doctors walked in this field right now with all the equipment they would ever need, it would be too late. The tumours are growing so fast they are attacking all of his organs at the same time.

‘Stop it,’ he says firmly, shaking his head. He stands in a relaxed manner and draws a long breath in through his nose inflating his stomach in an exaggerated manner. Then he releases and exhales slowly from his mouth, sucking his stomach in and exhaling as far as he can.

He repeats the relaxation technique several times, flooding his system with oxygen which resets the nitrogen levels and helps balance the brain chemistry.

Opening his eyes after several minutes of breathing he feels calmer, his vision sharper and everything suddenly not so bad.

A quick fix that doesn't make it go away but it helps, and right now, he’ll take all the help he can get.

But that pain is still there, nagging away. He tries feeling his own back, groping his hands round to run over his skin, expecting to find a huge lump. Nothing there so he tries looking round, like a dog chasing its tail which is fruitless and has him chastising himself within a few seconds.

Must be a rash there, some tell-tale sign of a horrendous illness starting to develop. But he feels fine other than the back ache, a tiny dull headache from sleeping during the day but nothing else.

‘Shit,’ he knows what’s coming as the nagging starts, telling him the tumours have spread up his spine and into his brain already. They’re growing now and will cause his head to cease functioning.

Should he take the painkillers now or later? But taking painkillers just masks the pain, it doesn't fix the problem. And it’s dangerous taking painkillers, they can rot your stomach lining and make you ill.

No, better to monitor the rate of spreading so he can chart whatever disease he is developing. Checking his watch he realises he slept too long and is behind on time. Mind you, not that it really mattered, but then those self-help books all said that the key to success was self-discipline and maintaining a strict regime.

He wasn’t sure he actually believed in a lot of the stuff within those books. Yes it was important to stay focussed and keep the mind active but surely those books were written for morons who couldn’t otherwise think their way out of a paper bag.

No real person in their right mind would actually read a self-help book would they? Mind you, the sales ranking on the sites were high so the market was obviously a big one.

Stripping his t shirt off he grabs the long sleeve black wicking top and shrugs it on. The material clings to his body like a second skin, tight and specially designed to draw the sweat away and remain breathable. Modern materials like this were a god send for his night time activities.

He takes the sawn offs from his day bag and places them next to the night bag. Many hours had been spent getting the night bag just right, stitching compartments and making adjustments so everything would fit and be readily accessible.

Two long hand stitched sections in the main compartment that held the shotguns barrel down with the butts poking out and easy to grab. They didn’t rattle or sway and were held snug but without the risk of snagging when drawn quickly.

Inside the main compartment were black latex medical gloves, first aids kits, bottles of water and high energy snack bars. Plus painkillers and now a bottle of Corsodyl mouthwash with a spare toothbrush and paste. Can never be too careful when it comes to mouth hygiene.

Antiseptic wipes, anti-bacterial gel and then the specially designed back quiver that had been stitched in. He had tried a leg quiver, and undoubtedly the leg quiver made it easier to draw the arrows and was perfect for timed competition shoots, but it impeded movement especially when it was full.

The back quiver was the only alternative but he also had to carry the bag with the shotguns and other things he needed, so the quiver was incorporated into the bag, and then tested, adjusted, tested again and re-adjusted until it was just right.

He checks each arrow as it goes in. The carbon fibre hunting arrows were barbed with screw tips and specially designed for penetration but not to travel through the target. Each one was thirty inches long and he examined the straightness of the shaft, felt the weight and examined each fletch before placing it point first into the quiver. With the quiver full he takes the spare arrow heads and pushes them into a side pocket along with the shotgun cartridges.

In the van he stares at the side wall with the range of bows hanging from hooks. Definitely the compound bow. He’d used the recurve and straight bows several times, just to keep his hand in and have the novelty factor. But the compound was by far the best.

Eighty pound draw weight reduced to just fifteen pound pull weight, and holding fifteen pound on your fingertips was far easier than eighty pounds. He checked the pulley cam wheels at the ends for sign of corrosion or resistance. The bow was well cared for and in perfect working order.

About to leave the van he stares for a second at the wooden shafted long bow, considering if he should take that one for tonight. But the heavy draw weight would just aggravate the giant tumours growing in his back, best to stick with the compound.

He liked the name of manufacturer had given the bow too; The Black Knight. It resonated with him, the play on words with knight and night, blackness, dark, saviour and righteous but with a hint of a dark side, and he had a sword too, like a proper knight would have. Only he wasn’t a knight, he was a normal bloke with extreme anxiety and a propensity to get obsessed with his own health. He knew that and was under no pretensions and no illusions either.

The last thing to be taken before he locked the van up were the night vision goggles. They were tugged on to his head and held in place by thick elastic straps. Almost night now so he pulls them down, staring at everything bathed in differing shades of green. Pushed back up onto his forehead he pulls the bag on, double checks the van is locked, grabs the bow and starts off. Then walks back and checks the van is really locked.

Across the field and he stops at the gate, worried that maybe he didn’t lock the van properly. Better to be safe so he trots back and goes round tugging each handle several times before setting off again.

Back at the gate he has to force himself to keep going, knowing the van is locked and secure and ignoring that nagging urge telling him to go check again.

Into the Volvo and back to the layby, swap over and into the hatchback, then drive towards town. Once at the outside of the town he first switches the headlights off then pulls the night vision goggles down. The moon is bright so the ambient light is perfect for the night vision aid.

Selecting a quiet side street he parks up and checks the vehicle is locked before leaving the key on top of the front driver side tyre. That saved having to dig into pockets if he was moving in a hurry.

Chest strap securely fastened, waist strap likewise, arrow drawn and placed on the arrow rest, nock the groove of the arrow into the string and he walks on. His left hand holding the frame with his right hand holding the undrawn arrow in the string.

Archery had always made him feel better. It was the only time he didn’t worry about lumps, tumours, growths, rashes, illnesses, sore throats or what disease and illness he has today. On the range, whether it was practise or competition he felt at peace and soothed. The constant action of taking the arrow and checking it over. An arrow had no internal parts, it was smooth and straight and exactly what it was. It couldn’t develop tumours or growths either. He liked arrows.

He liked the action, the repeating action of arrow rest, nock, loose. Arrow rest, nock, loose. It was soothing. Adjusting for rain or high winds, gauging the distance, selecting what bow to use, what design of arrow and then just firing them.

Highly skilled and an exceptional shot but he only ever went for local competitions and such was his skill level, he purposefully made sure he never won first place. Often adjusting to precisely land the arrow an inch away so he would come second or third. The problem with first place was that everyone wanted to talk to you after, shake your hand, take a photograph maybe and then the awards ceremony too. He hated speaking to groups of people and didn’t like unwanted attention. Second or third place meant you kept some dignity but avoided the limelight.

His club had long since put it down to on-the-day-nerves as they knew he could shoot better than anyone else. He’d even started to fire badly at the club lately as they were starting to talk about coaching him for nerves to get him ready for bigger competitions, even mentioning the nationals and the England team try outs.

The best days were when it was just him in the field, alone with his bow and the target. Then he could fire properly and land every arrow exactly where he wanted it. If there was risk of anyone else turning up he kept the target at the standard ninety metre range, but on those rare occasions when he knew he would be alone, he would shift it back to one hundred and fifty metres and then all the way to the two hundred metre mark. They were the best shots as he had to take so much into consideration; the weight of the arrow tip, the breeze, humidity and atmospheric conditions. And over time, as with anything done many times, it became second nature. An instinct done without conscious thought. Visualising where he wanted the arrow to be and making it happen.

Along with the trips to the vehicle auto centres he also went to the club and secured the best bows they had, plus every arrow they had in stock too. Strings, arrow heads, lubricants for the cams and wheels, everything was taken and loaded into his van.

Living alone meant he wasn’t encumbered by anyone else and he could move quickly to get out of the population density zones, selecting isolated fields with good visual range.

It had worked well and kept him alive for the last twelve days and the step from survivor to hunter had been a natural one. He wanted to survive. They wanted to eat him. The less of them there were meant the greater chance he had of not being eaten. Simple, and within a few days of being set up he noticed how hard it was to get into the town to source the things he needed.

He’d hunted them in the day at first as they were slow and easy but once they changed and got faster and meaner he switched to night hunting. Using shadows and stealth to pick them off like an archery sniper, fire a few and run. Fire again and run. It was slow but effective and whittled them down and above all else; it gave his head some peace and quiet and something else to think about other than his impending slow and painful death.

Quiet. Far too quiet. Half an hour of walking the side streets and he’d yet to see a single zombie. Plenty of bodies and quite a lot of them done by him on previous nights. But he knew there were plenty left.

So where were they?

At the end of a residential street he stands contemplating the direction to go. Carry on through the safer residential zones or go into town? His back was aching and he could feel the tumours growing quickly and it was only a matter of time before they burst out and caused him untold pain and agony.

The town. He takes a right turn and walks steadily along, his night vision goggled head turning constantly left and right, and every few steps he did a full turn to check all directions. The clarity of the image was fantastic, the moon providing enough natural light to make the view almost pin sharp.

Nothing in the next street, nor the street after that. Houses silent, dark and empty. The only sound was the tread of his boots on the ground and his low controlled breathing. Sweat was forming on his head, making the elastic band of the goggles itch and worry him. Pausing at a junction he ducks into the deep shadows of a front garden and takes a drink of water while rubbing his head and wiping the straps down with a paper towel.

Pressing on and still nothing. No movement and no sounds. He reaches the edge of the town centre, the top end where all the cheap shops were located. The road was much wider here than the side streets and he took a couple of minutes to look at each premises, the doorways, windows and alleys branching off. Listening intently but still seeing and hearing nothing. Then a bang further down the road out of sight. It sounded like a car door.

Keeping to the edge of the building line he stalks down the street, scanning and watching every entrance, constantly turning to check behind.

The road slopes down on a gentle decline and reaching the crest he holds position and stares down at the small group gathered round a vehicle. Gripping the arrow he pulls it back just an inch and keeping low he starts moving forward. There must be someone in that car. They got in and slammed the door closed to keep the zombies away. But they’re not attacking but just stood there, moving round slowly.

One of the car doors opens as someone clambers out to stand talking to the others. The zombies had been changing a lot over the last few days but he’d never seen them getting in and out of cars before.

People. Normal people. Other survivors. Stepping out of the building line he walks into the middle of the road and starts towards them with the bow pointed down.

The people at the car keep turning to look about and spot him within a few seconds. He raises an arm to wave, knowing he can see them much clearer than they can see him.

Their body language changes, becoming worried as they start to load items stacked on the ground into the car and then another one parked in the front.

With just a couple of hundred metres to go he notices them talking and peering at him, the men pointing as though explaining something to the women and children.

‘Hi, is it okay to approach?’ He calls out at the hundred metre point.

‘You the bow and arrow guy?’ One of the men shouts back.

‘The bow and arrow guy? I’ve got a bow and some arrows…does that make me the bow and arrow guy?’

‘We seen you before, we was watching when you shot the things with the bow, few nights ago on Prince Street.’

‘Prince Street? Yes I remember that one, have you seen the zombies? I can’t find any.’

‘No mate.’

‘Can I come over?’

‘Er…yeah I guess so,’ the spokesman looks to his group for confirmation.

‘I don’t suppose any of you are doctors are you?’ He asks quickly, walking towards them with his bow now held right down.

‘Doctor? No mate, you hurt then?’

‘Not injured no, no nurses or anything like that? Vet maybe?’

‘No mate,’ the man repeats, ‘sorry.’

‘You leaving town then?’ He asks the man.

‘Yeah, you heard about the fort?’

‘The fort? No,’ he shakes his head, ‘what’s that?’

‘We met someone yesterday, well Steve did anyway,’ the man nods at another man who steps forward, ‘said they got a fort down on the coast, thousands living there…’

‘Oh right, yes I figured they might get used.’

‘So you just go round shooting them with arrows?’ The second man asks.

‘Yes, I figured the less there were of them, the safer I would be…so…er…yeah.’

‘I’m James, this is Steve…’

‘Roy,’ he says shaking hands after swapping the bow to his left.

‘We’re going for the fort,’ James says, ‘this bloke told Steve they got police there, security and some army blokes that go out and keep the things away…Mr Howie? You heard of him?’

‘No,’ Roy shakes his head, thinking he doesn't like people so the fort holds no appeal to him.

‘Ere Steve,’ one of the women calls out, ‘you said that bloke said they had doctors and all sorts at that fort.’

‘Bloody hell, yeah he did say that,’ Steve points quickly at Roy, ‘sorry mate, got freaked out with you wearing them things on your head.’

‘Oh crumbs, sorry,’ Roy pushes his goggles up and rubs his eyes, ‘forgot I had them on…you said they’ve got doctors at the fort?’

‘Yeah, well this bloke did anyway, he said they had doctors, an hospital, shops and all sorts, like a proper town but in a fort with big walls and…’

‘You said doctors?’ Roy asks, emphasising the “s”, ‘as in more than one doctor?’

Steve shrugs as though what does it matter.

‘Where is it?’ Roy asks quickly.

‘Dunno, on the coast before you get to Portsmouth, can’t be that hard to find, must be on the tourist maps if we can find one.’

‘We will,’ James answers confidently, ‘is it just you Roy?’ He asks.

‘What?’ Roy replies startled out of his dreaming of having access to doctors, ‘er yeah, just me.’

‘You can come with us if you want? We got plenty of space.’

‘Me?! Gosh no, thank you but I got all my gear to sort out but thanks…I will definitely go but I’ll have to sort my stuff out first.’

‘Fair enough mate, make sure you pass it on if you see anyone else.’

‘Of course, er…this hospital? Does it have equipment like normal hospitals?’

Steve and James exchange a quick puzzled look, both of them shrugging.

‘No okay, don’t worry…I’ll er…get myself ready and see you there I guess…so you don’t know where all the zombies have gone?’

Both men shake their heads, ‘no, not seen ‘em all day, figured they ran out of food or something so buggered off elsewhere,’ James replies.

‘Yeah right,’ Roy nods, ‘not likely though is it.’

‘Eh?’ James blanches at the slightly rude tone.

‘Well they don’t eat food do they, just people and that’s only so they can make them into zombies.’

‘Must have run out of people then,’ James replies abruptly.

‘Hmmm,’ Roy stares round, ‘but we’re still here…’

‘Maybe they got pissed off with you shooting them all the time,’ Steve suggests helpfully.

‘Hmmm, maybe,’ Roy nods, ‘well, nice meeting you and have a safe journey.’ He turns to walk off, striding into the night.

‘You just going then?’ James calls out.

‘Yes, I just said I was didn’t I?’

‘Okay,’ James says slowly, ‘you going to the fort then?’

‘I already said I was,’ Roy calls back then walks off.

‘Rude bloke,’ James mutters to Steve who nods as they both stare at the shadowy form disappearing from view.

Seventeen

‘Listen in, we got a lot to talk about,’ Maddox shouts clearly into the air. The youths start gathering in front of him, instantly responding to his voice. Surprisingly they didn’t show that much surprise when they walked in and saw the mess. A few raised eyebrows here and there but the young adapt quickly and they’ve certainly seen enough carnage by now.

‘We’re gonna get this place cleaned up, Lenski and Sierra will be in those rooms over there, that’s where the police worked from and where everything was organised. We gotta get these bodies moved out to where the others were stacked when we first came in, but we also need security at the front and back, outside and on the top wall. Skyla, your crew take the back. Stay at that gate and don’t let anyone come in or out. It stays closed all the time. Mohammed, your crew is out front. Liam, you’re on the inside here and Ryland, you’re up top. Everyone else starts shifting bodies and get this place cleaned up. We’ll swap round every hour and make sure you drink water. They got an armoury here with proper weapons,’ a few cheers sound out, ‘but, we don’t use them until we’ve been shown by Mr Howie and his crew, got it?’

A chorus of “Yes Maddox” sounds out, the youths hang on every word he says.

I step forward to speak while their attention is on us, ‘If anyone turns up outside they do not come in until we’ve got a few things set up. No one comes into the fort unless they are checked over for bites and we can see their eyes. You all know what you are doing, that is very clear, but if something does happen then listen out for my team, the only reason is that we’ve got very powerful weapons and you might need to get down or move to the side or something. We have got a lot to do but I’m glad you’re all here.’ It feels hard not to talk down to them and despite the hard faces most of them have, they still look young.

‘Mr Howie, he in charge here,’ Lenski takes over, ‘he agree with Maddox that we still in charge of you, but he in charge of here. If he say to do something then you should do it yes?’

Again another wide response of “yes Lenski” and I can see the youths are already stood in set groups gathered round one older youth that must be the crew chiefs as they call them.

Maddox says another few words and then they burst to action. One group going straight to the back, another finding their way to the ramp and up to the wall while yet another group start organising themselves at the main gate.

The remainder walk off towards the bodies, chatting noisily and making jokes amongst themselves.

‘There goes the neighbourhood,’ Nick mutters to a snort from Cookey and Blowers.

‘Nick you take the digger again…’

‘Oi,’ Clarence says with an offended glance at me.

‘No offence mate but…well Nick you take the digger. Cookey and Blowers I want you moving between the two gates and keeping an eye on the front.’

‘Who is going up top?’ Dave asks.

‘None of us.’

‘The Saxon has got loads of weapons inside, those kids could get them easily,’ he replies.

‘They could also get into the armoury easily but we’ve got to trust them, they came to us…go up there with Lani if it makes you feel better but I wanted Lani to work with Lenski and that other girl…’

‘Why?’ Lani asks, ‘all the girls together doing the paperwork yeah?’

‘No,’ I sigh, ‘but you know the fort and you’re switched on so you can guide them as they go and I’ll be around too.’

‘I was joking,’ Lani smiles, ‘it does make sense, but that means Dave has to stay with me…and Meredith too.’

‘Yes it does. Lads,’ I turn to Blowers and Cookey, ‘feel free to walk about and stroll up the top, get to know the er…crews I guess we should call them but keep an eye on the front.’

‘Got it,’ Blowers nods.

We split up, moving off with Nick and Clarence heading for the digger, the lads going for the front and Dave, Lani and me walking over to the offices, stepping in to see the four older leaders chatting quietly.

‘Everything alright?’ I ask, heading towards the gas stove.

‘This place is huge,’ Darius grins, ‘you got loads of space.’

‘It is mate, you all up for a brew?’

‘Mr Howie,’ Lani gets my attention, ‘Sergeant Hopewell had some forms they used when new people arrived, okay if I try and find them to show Lenski and Sierra?’

‘Yeah of course.’

‘You call him Mr Howie?’ Lenski asks, ‘he your boyfriend no? Why you call him mister?’

Lani blanches slightly at the direct question, ‘er…we just agreed that’s what we’d do in front of the others.’

‘You can call me Mr Maddox then from now on,’ Maddox grins.

‘I not call you this,’ Lenski replies quickly with a deadpan tone.

‘And you can think again,’ Sierra cuts Darius down with a glare as goes to say something.

‘I never wanted to be called Mr Howie, Dave started that off,’ I add.

‘It suits you,’ Lani replies quickly with a smile, ‘and Dave is right, you should be Mr Howie, everyone calls you that. Can I show you what they did when new people arrived?’ She turns to Lenski and Sierra. They follow her down to the end of the room where she starts leafing through the sheets re-stacked tidily by Marcy and her horde.

‘What do you think then?’ I ask Maddox and Darius.

‘Like Darius said; it’s a big place,’ Maddox replies, ‘did you say you had people turning up here every day?’

‘Yeah we did, bloody queues of them sometimes too, I think word spread that it’s here and most of them were turning up expecting shops and hospitals and a proper police force.’

‘What you gonna do with all the bodies?’ Darius asks.

‘Burn them mate, or at least that’s what we keep trying to do anyway.’

Coffee is made and I notice Maddox is the only one not to drink it, sticking with water from a bottle. We chat and slowly break the ice as they explain how they were getting things set up at their compound.

Before long we’re outside, leaving a disgruntled Dave staying with Lani and the two women while the rest of us start helping to pile the bodies up. Already there is a distinct difference with so many people working hard.

Bodies get stacked ready for Nick to scoop up and dump in the lorry. They work with a determined efficiency and it doesn't take long to spot the crew chiefs, those being the ones who get asked questions and direct the smaller groups. Maddox has an easy air of authority with them, laughing and joking and working alongside them.

The youths are wary of me and Clarence and avoid conversation with us, apart from the odd comment about Clarence being “hench as fuck”. His natural strength wins them over as they marvel in awe at the apparent ease he moves the bodies with. Then the braver ones start asking questions, can you lift a car? Can you push a bus? How much can you bench? What’s the heaviest thing you ever lifted?

He takes it well and in good humour. Standing back for a minute I glance down to see Blowers and Cookey doing what they do best, bantering with the lads at the front, laughing and joking while managing to look like professional soldiers. The way they hold their assault rifles relaxed but ready. The semi wide stance they take on their feet, keen eyes and friendly manners and I can see they’re already winning some of the kids over.

They stroll up to the top and do the same with the crew up there, speaking to them individually while making sure they can see out the front.

Once the lorry is emptied and returned we keep going, steadily clearing the bodies away. The ground is covered in blood and bits of gore which is dealt with by Maddox ordering a crew to start picking the bits of shit up. And they do it without complaint, just another task that needs to be completed.

I join in helping them, bent over as we scoop brain matter and god knows what else up from the sticky grass. Stiff brushes are found and slowly the area starts getting cleaned.

The digger moves back and forth, scooping and loading. One of the older lads says he would love to have a go and at a nod from me, Nick shows him how to do it. The boy takes a few minutes to get the hang of it which causes some good humoured joking about but like Nick, he takes to it quickly.

The lorry gets loaded and taken out to be emptied. With the ruined tents all pulled down and stacked up it does start looking a hell of a lot better. With all the debris getting cleared away I can see the central cooking area where we had the meal with Marcy last night and it quickly sours the uplifting mood I was beginning to feel.

‘Blowers to Mr Howie,’ the radio warbles on my belt.

‘Go ahead Blowers.’

‘Got a van coming down the road towards us, it’s going slow.’

‘Just one?’

‘Yes, just one Mr Howie.’

‘Lani did you hear that?’

‘Yeah I heard it, do you want us out there recording details?’

‘Yes please, I’ll see you out there.’

‘We’ll have to get our radios on the same frequency,’ I say to Maddox stood nearby listening.

‘Alright if I come down too?’ He asks.

‘Of course mate, you don’t need to ask.’

Clarence puts his radio back on his belt and gives me a thumbs up, checking if I want him to come along. I motion for him to keep an eye open but stay there.

Cookey jogs across the front, heading for the ramp and the Saxon on the top wall.

The small group from the offices are ahead of me, walking in a trio and chatting happily with Dave bringing up the rear. He must be bored stiff but until we know what to do about Lani we can’t take any risk with her.

Reaching the front, Maddox and I step through the outer gate to see Blowers stood just slightly ahead of the crew positioned there. The crew chief taking position next to Blowers with the rest staggered out in a line.

With all of Maddox’s vehicles still stacked up the van driver clearly doesn't know whether to stop at the end or come round them until Blowers steps out and waves them forward.

‘Eyes on,’ I call out, ‘nice and relaxed, don’t point guns at them and if we start shooting then move back quickly so we can use the big gun up there.’

‘Lani, me and you will take the lead on this one if that’s okay with everyone else?’ This diplomacy stuff is quite good fun really. Lenski and Sierra both nod, clearly excited at the formal way things are being done. Maddox stays close and watches intently.

Blowers waves the van down and does us proud by holding back with his rifle at the ready but smiling nicely.

‘Hold there please,’ he calls out, ‘how many you got in there?’ Words exchanged before he turns to me. ‘They got nine Mr Howie, six adults and three kids, no sign of any weapons in the front.’

‘Cheers mate, Hi! Sorry about the security but obviously we have to be careful,’ I greet the nervous looking man sat behind the wheel who nods back with very tired looking eyes.

‘Do you have any weapons in the vehicle?’

‘No guns,’ he says quickly, ‘knives and things but no guns.’

‘Okay that’s great and have any of you been bitten or scratched?’

‘No Sir,’ he replies just as quickly.

‘Okay, you can get out and stretch your legs,’ the rear doors spring open as soon I finish speaking with a loud groan coming from the back.

‘Oh my poor back, cramped up in there for hours and hot too, hotter than hell,’ a very large built black woman comes into view and seeing us she smiles a huge grin and walks over, ‘so this is the fort is it? Oh my word we’re glad to be here, why you got all them children with guns? We thought you had police and army here…’

‘And shops and a hospital,’ someone else says as they clamber from the back.

‘We did have,’ I reply seriously, ‘not shops but…’I wait until they all walk into view, six adults as Blowers said and three children. Clearly not one family but several different couples or small groups banded together.

‘We’re glad you’re here,’ I say looking at each of the adults in turn, ‘but we’ve had some er…issues,’ they look back with a mixture of alarm and worry. I go through what happened, the abridged and short version and re-assure them that the place is now secure and safe but is still being cleared up.

The big lady acts as the group spokesperson, nodding her head as she listens intently.

‘We can help,’ she offers instantly, ‘tell us what you need doing young man.’

‘Howie, my name is Howie, sorry I should have introduced myself before.’

‘Mr Howie?’ The woman asks with a broad grin, ‘we heard a lot about you young man.’

‘Oh god not that again,’ I groan as the others start looking at me with renewed interest, then round me to Dave.

‘Is that Dave?’ One of them asks.

‘Yes, yes it is…’

‘Well, we’re hungry and dirty and we need a wash, and these children need food, and those children look like they could do with a decent meal too,’ the big lady interrupts me, speaking very loud she bursts with confidence. ‘Do you have food here?’

‘Our stores are very well stocked,’ Lani steps forward, ‘Hi, I’m Lani, this is Lenski and…’ Lani gives each name politely.

‘Agnes,’ the big woman replies, not bothering to introduce her party, ‘so where are these stores then?’

‘Ah,’ Lani says politely, ‘thing is Agnes, is that we don’t let anyone in unless they’ve been checked over.’

‘So how did they get in yesterday?’ One of the men asks.

‘We weren’t here,’ Lani replies quickly with a firm voice, ‘trust me, it wouldn’t have happened if we had been here,’ which is maybe not the most accurate of statements but it does well to give confidence.

‘That’s fine, we’ve got nothing to hide,’ Agnes more or less shouts, ‘have you got a private area?  I will not be getting undressed out here, that’s for sure,’ she laughs with a surprisingly light voice.

‘Give me five minutes I’ll get something set up,’ I say to Lani and start heading back.

‘I need to take all your names and what skills you have…’ Lani starts explaining. Taking Maddox and Blowers with me we head through the inner gate into the wide alley and stare at the medical tents. Hearing Lani say that about taking names and skills sends a conflicting feeling through me. Sadness that we gave refuge to so many who then lost their lives after trusting us to keep them safe, but also hope, hope that we can start again and build up.

‘If we get Lenski, Sierra and Lani to do the women then we can do the men,’ Maddox states, ‘this one looks alright, we’ll just do them one at a time.’

‘I didn’t really want anyone in until the bodies were gone.’

‘Why not?’ He asks me, ‘everyone has seen bad things by now, they’re gonna just have to get used to it and seeing that,’ he nods towards the inner gate, ‘will remind them how bad things are.’

‘Good point,’ I concede.

‘And I bet she can cook too,’ Maddox smiles.

The men are done first with me and Maddox getting them to strip off and going through the same thing Doctor Roberts did with us. Shining torches all over and checking for bites, scratches and broken skin. Other than bruises and dirt they’re all fine.

Coming out we give the space over to Lani for the women to be done. The group standing in the alley chatting quietly while waiting. Blowers and Dave stood nearby as watchful as ever.

It gets done and they’re admitted, all of them standing inside the inner gate staring in wide eyed wonder at the stacks of the once human corpses piled up and the groups of children moving amongst them laughing and joking, the giant swinging a corpse onto the back of the lorry while a small group of kids cheer, Nick laughing at the wheel of the digger with a cigarette dangling from his lips.

‘Nice and big, I like it!’ Agnes beams as she steps through, ‘this is a good place, I can feel this is a good place,’ she smiles across at her group, using her personality and character to beat their hesitancy and fear away. ‘We’ll leave our things over there at the side and get started, you men get helping with those bodies, children you need a wash and ladies come with me…we’ll get these stores checked and something to eat. How many have we got here?’ She casts round, picking on Sierra to answer the question.

‘Er…about one hundred and twenty…roughly,’ she guesses.

‘Is that all!?’ Agnes laughs, ‘a tea party that is, I’ve fed many more than that in my time,’ she laughs again and strides off, the ladies and children following in her wake leaving three quiet brow beaten men standing looking uncomfortable.

‘To be honest chaps,’ I say to them, ‘we pretty much got this under control if you want to…’

‘God no,’ the driver of the van says quickly, ‘if Agnes says to do something, we do it.’

‘Fair enough, jump in then,’ he motions his head at the other two, leading them towards the activity in the centre.

‘More coming down the road Mr Howie,’ Blowers calls out.

‘See what you mean,’ Maddox says, ‘busy day huh?’

‘Always mate, bloody always.’

Eighteen

Dropping down from the broken window she crouches and waits then sets off to the corner, peering round to view down the side of the industrial unit.

Dark now but the moon is bright and casts just enough light to see shapes and forms. Reaching the end of the building line she again pauses to check the area, staring at the bright glow of the raging fire further in the estate.

The air is thick with the smell of burning chemicals, rubber, wood and metal melting; acidic and pungent. The twisted fragments of super charged gas bottles have flown off in many directions and embedded into structures and wooden pallets. In this immense heat and dry weather the materials have ignited and spread further. Several of the units are now ablaze with sparks leaping high into the air.

Figures silhouetted against the fire move silently in the distance but thankfully not anywhere in line of sight here.

The darker mass of the hills overlooking the town are that way, but that’s also the direction of the fire. No choice but to go the opposite direction and work round. Using the same methods practised before, Paula breaks the route down into what she can see immediately and picks out the best options for cover, calculating the distance and time it will take while checking for obstacles and then a fall back route if something happens on the way.

Those up by the fire will find it harder to see her, but any further down could see her form silhouetted against the glow. Stick to the sides and use the deeper shadows. Do not fire the weapon unless absolutely necessary and for god’s sake don’t scream or yell out.

Mentally prepared she starts off and runs across the front of the garage and over the small car park, dropping by the side of an old car left on bricks. Then on, past the front of the next unit, her eyes scanning ahead picking out the next route. Pausing at intervals to check the area. Stop, drop listen then run.

Slowly she builds distance from the fire, hearing popping and crashing noises as the deadly flames eat away at the structures within the industrial estate. Paula gains the last unit before the junction of the estate service road. Beyond the junction is a normal residential street. From her view point now she can only see a small portion of it, but it looks clear.

Legs pumping she runs into the street and straight over to the left side, heading into the first open gate to drop down behind the low garden wall.

None in this street either. From the position of the hills and the memory of the town layout she judges that the next junction will be a wider main road leading towards the town centre and one of those that was clogged with the things.

Twisting round she tries to pick out the hills but the fierce glow of the fire now blocks anything above the building line out of view. Smoke, sparks and flames licking into the air distorting the shadows and making her eyes hurt from the contrast of dark to light.

Damn it, the town must be left. So she needs to go right. But that service road was bending round to the left, so is it still left to the town?

No choice but to work down this road and see what’s at the end. Keeping low she heads out the gate and starts working along. Ignoring the signs of destruction all around her she focusses on anything moving or that doesn't belong. Eyes darting left and right, then pausing to watch the road ahead. Dropping down to check behind and then moving off again.

Closer to the junction she creeps. A determined look on her face as she stares into the shadows and plants her feet carefully. One step at a time, shifting her weight and inching forward. Rifle gripped and legs flexed ready to carry her away.

Expecting to see a thick line of them she lifts one eyebrow at the empty road ahead. It is a wider main road with houses lined on both sides. Big terraced houses all painted different colours with a varying mixture of UPVC and wooden framed windows and doors that just serve to make the area look cheap. To the side of the road a row of parked cars sit dark and forlorn, abandoned and left to sit forever until they slowly rust to nothing. Pimped up boy racer cars mixed with people carriers and white vans of the working class man, loaded with tools and ready for a hard day on site.

Other than that there is nothing. No sign of them. She spins round trying to gain a sense of where she is. Left is the town, it has to be.

Following the contour of the road as it eases round she steps just as carefully and makes frequent pauses to check for movement and noise. Staring left to check the gaps between the vehicles and the front gardens beyond them. Then up at the windows and doors, then back across to the right and then behind. So focussed on those points and she fails to spot the figures standing motionless in the road ahead of her. Expecting movement or noise her eyes simply didn’t register the perfectly normal shape of the people.

Suppressing the yelp in her throat she finally does see them and freezes. Eyes fixed on the unmoving figures. Several of them. All silent. All staring towards her. They don’t move but watch her as though waiting to see what she will do.

What she does do is very slowly starts to back-step, tiny movements that shift her weight. They detect the movement and as one turn their young bodies to face her. The physical rotation of the children send shivers down her spine. Moonlight casting them in silvery light that makes the shadows of their eyes deeper and far worse than they should be.

The small bodies with arms hanging down inert at the sides. Dressed in a collection of pyjamas and night clothes with pictures of teddies and butterflies mixed with deep blood stains. Taking another step back and the image of the child she shot earlier flashes through her mind, the memory causes her to move faster which in turn provokes them into bursting towards her with an instant frantic speed. One second quiet, sullen and watchful and the next charging with lips pulled back to reveal small teeth stained with blood and filth.

Paula runs, sprinting hard and glancing behind her. She curses at the power of their young bodies gaining with every second. She could fire but there’s at least five of them which would mean at least five shots, and that would draw every undead for miles.

An open front door ahead, she turns sharply and runs up the path, bursting in to slam the door closed behind her. The ruined lock hanging from one screw wobbles instead of locking so she grabs the thin metal chain and yanks it across.

Down the hallway to the back door, which is locked, bolted and the key removed. Solid wood and no way of smashing it down.

They reach the front door, slamming into it which yanks the chain taut. She runs down the hallway and slams her foot into door. Feeling the impact as the door smacks into the light bodies beyond and sends them flying backwards. They’re on their feet and charging back but just the sight of the pale young girl with curly blond hair and a pink nightie now bleeding profusely from the nose brings a choking gasp to her mouth.

Paula backs away to the bottom of the stairs, watching and listening as the door is rammed again and again. The door bursts open with a crash, young undead spill into the hallway falling over from the sudden lack of resistance.

She charges up the stairs, gaining the landing and grabbing a tall thin wooden shelving unit filled with hundreds of music CD’s to launch it down at the oncoming snarling bundles of savage fury. The first one gets knocked down, barrelling into the others behind it.

Paula casts round for an escape route and spots the open loft hatch above her, a thin wire hanging down and glinting in the light coming through the window of the bedroom in front of her.

Grasping the wire she heaves and ducks as the hatch drops open and a metal ladder slides down. Grabbing the thin shaking ladder she starts to climb, feeling the rising panic as the first child reaches the top and makes a lunge for her. She lashes out with a foot, kicking it hard to the head.

Another comes just as she heaves up another few rungs, the tiny hands scrabbling to clamber up after her. She stamps down again and again, slamming the bottom of her hard boot onto its face and hands. It screams and howls but clings on, ignoring the broken fingers and facial bones getting mashed and pulped.

She stamps too hard and loses her grip, sliding down to impact on the child with her full weight. Crashing to the ground she punches out with rapid blows and sends a few flying off. Back on the ladder and she moves faster now, gripping the small rungs to pull up as her feet push hard.

Head through the ceiling hatch, pitch black inside and she doesn't think of the multitude of spiders and cobwebs that will be there but heaves hard and gets her upper body through. Yelping loud as hands grip her feet, pulling her back down. Gritting her teeth she pulls and shuffles to get her upper body over the lip. The child dangling from her legs thrashing about. She kicks and bucks, gets one foot free and kicks down, feeling the tug as the child is booted repeatedly but refuses to let go.

The rifle digs into her ribs, wedged underneath her as she levers herself further into the loft inch by inch. Stamping and kicking she feels the child swinging from her leg, sending a shooting pain through her hip and pulling her weight harder into the barrel of the rifle.

Excruciating pain flares into her stomach, sweating hard, red faced she kicks with everything she’s got and hears a loud crack and the sudden release of the body dropping from her leg. With an almighty pull she gets her body into loft and twists round to get back to the ladder.

One coming up already, she grabs the rifle and reverses it to slam the butt down hard on the head. This one goes shuddering down from the first blow and any thought of these things being innocent children are gone.

Grabbing a rung of the ladder she pulls it up, working hand over hand to drag it higher and higher off the ground. One of them grabs the ladder but she pulls it harder, wedging her feet into the solid wooden joists to anchor herself in position.

It growls and snarls, thrashing about and threatening to pull the ladder back down. Breathing frantically, she works hand over hand, drawing it up while desperately working out what to do when the child gets closer.

Holding the ladder with one straining arm she leans down to grab at one of the small hands clinging on. Working to pull the fingers off but the child hangs on with a vice like grip. No matter how hard she tugs and works, the fingers remain glued with the child pulling up to take gnashing wild bites at her.

In wild desperation she pulls the large bladed knife from her belt and digs the blade into the fingers of the nearest hand, sawing back and forth and feeling the jolt as the knife digs into the alloyed metal of the ladder rung. One finger is lopped off, then another and the blood streaming out loosens the grip and finally one hand is released.

The child hangs one handed still pulling its own weight up to take biting lunges. Where the child gets the strength from to do one armed pull ups is beyond her. The knife digs into the fingers of the second hand, sawing in to bite through the bone. The pinkie falls off, slapping into the eye of the child beneath it. Blood spurts out, dripping quickly down the ladder and going into the open mouth of the undead as it takes one final huge surge up to bite at her. She lashes out and flicks the blade across its face, scoring a deep cut across the nose and into one eye.

It finally releases, plummeting the short distance to the ground and squashing another child underneath it.

The ladder is drawn up and pushed back, the flap of the loft hatch still hangs down but well out of the reach of the jumping child zombies staring up at her with twisted faces of hunger and hatred.

She pulls her torch out and curses when it doesn't come to life, remembering the batteries went during the attack of the giant spider.

Using her cigarette lighter she crabs round the loft looking for a way out.

‘Come on…think,’ she mutters. Terraced houses so the roofs will be joined…she spins round and starts towards the wall at one end. A single skin of fire bricks put in place a few years ago when the fire regulations changed.

She thumps them hard, feeling a slight tremor of vibration. They were designed to withstand the spread of fire, but not being kicked and battered.

So kicking and battering she does, grinning with triumph as the first brick falls out. She batters a hole and forces her way through into the next loft. This one older and without the fire brick wall in place, two houses sharing one loft space. She scurries over, balancing on the thick wooden joists with her cigarette lighter held out, the flame flickering as the heated ignition wheel starts to burn her fingers.

Howls and guttural roars sounding out from behind her as the children keep jumping in futile attempts to reach the opening.

Yelping with pain she drops the lighter as her thumb burns from the flame. Plunged into complete darkness she loses balance, toppling off to land heavily. With a wrenching tearing sound she feels herself plunging down as one legs goes through the ceiling into the room below. Grabbing the joists she pulls and kicks her way free. Pulling her leg up and out of the hole.

The lighter is lost, gone in the gloom. She feels round for it, feeling the rough material of the insulation wedged between the wooden posts. Losing sense of direction she starts making her way bent over to keep feeling for the joist in front of her.

Banging her head on the next fire wall she takes a breath of relief and starts kicking it again. With the total darkness she finds it hard to keep balance and has to work to keep herself on the thick wooden strip underfoot.

The wall takes longer to go down, kick after kick and gradually she weakens the mortar and sends the bricks tumbling down the other side. Battering harder now she detects light coming through the hole and peers in to see the next loft is converted with a window fitted into the roof.

The silvery moonlight could be a thousand chandeliers sparkling in a sumptuous ballroom for the effect it has on her. The bricks are pushed and shoved as she gets through and heads over the ply boarded floor to the loft hatch.

‘Who the fuck are you?’  A dull voice makes her scream with fright and spin round bringing the rifle to bear, ‘easy love…don’t fucking shoot me…you just broke my fire wall.’

‘Who are you?’ Paula whispers, her voice low and ragged from hard breathing.

‘Nigel, I live here…well I did live here…downstairs that is….what are you doing?’

‘Jesus, how…how long you been up here?’

‘Since it started, now what the hell are you doing?’

‘They chased me into a house, I got up here and…’

‘Broke my loft is what you’ve done, you can’t stay here.’

‘I don’t want to stay here, have you seen the town?’

‘Course I have, but they don’t know I’m here see…well they didn’t till you came blundering through.’ Paula watches as a small middle aged man shuffles into the light. Bearded and dressed in a filthy cotton dressing gown and carpet slippers, he looks a mess with wild hair poking up in all directions. ‘You can’t stay here,’ he repeats.

‘I don’t want to stay here,’ Paula hisses.

‘Good cos this is my hiding place, piss off and find your own.’

‘I just said I don’t want to stay here.’

‘Keep your bloody voice down before they hear you,’ Nigel whispers harshly.

‘Where’s your hatch?’

‘What? You ain’t using my hatch love, oh no…oh no oh no…no way…they’ll see you going out my house and come looking…’

‘Well how do I get out then?’ An exasperated Paula asks.

‘Back the way you came and I’ll stick those bricks back together.’

‘What? I’m not going back that way.’

‘You bloody are love, you ain’t going out my hatch.’

‘I am going out your hatch…now get it open.’

‘No…piss off back that way and lead them off.’

‘Nigel, I’m going out here and you can close the hatch after me.’

‘I said no.’

‘Nigel.’

‘What?’

‘I’ve got two guns and a big bloody knife and I will use one of them if you don’t open that sodding hatch, I’ve been attacked by bloody big spiders and shot a child in the face so don’t push me….’

‘Christ alright, take it easy,’ he holds his hands up as Paula points the rifle at him, ‘no need to get all threatening and violent, time of the month is it?’

‘Shut up and open that hatch.’

‘My wife was always like that when she was on the rag…’

‘Say another word and I’ll gut you,’ Paula hisses moving forward the ram the barrel into his bony chest. He nods quickly, goes to say something, gets prodded and glared at then thinks better of it and nods again. Moving quickly he unlocks the hatch and pulls it open, waving his hand for her to go.

‘Where’s the ladder?’

‘There isn’t one,’ he whispers sulkily.

‘How do you get up and down then?’

‘I drop down and stand on the bannister to get back up,’ he replies as if the answer is obvious.

‘Right, okay,’ Paula moves to look down, ‘ er…have you got any batteries?’

‘Er….what size?’

‘Double A.’

‘Yeah, hang on.’ He moves off for a second, rummaging quietly before coming back with a box of four.

‘I only need two,’ Paula whispers.

‘Torch is it?’ He asks while tearing the cardboard packaging open.

‘Yeah the batteries went,’ she twists the end cap off, tapping the two batteries out. He hands her two new ones as she struggles holding the torch and the old batteries. Eventually he takes the old ones and pushes them into his dressing gown pocket. She slides the new batteries in and twists the end cap back on. A strong beam of light shines out as the connection is made.

‘Thanks,’ she whispers.

‘You’re welcome,’ he replies.

‘Sorry for saying I would shoot you.’

‘S’okay,’ he shrugs.

‘I’m off then, I will be quiet and sneak out.’

‘Alright, well have a safe trip, nice to meet you,’ he nods.

‘You too,’ she grips the edge of the loft hatch and lowers her body down, dangling for a second before dropping. The loft hatch shuts with a dull thud the second her feet touch the ground.

Glancing up she shakes her head at the weird encounter before gently easing herself down the stairs to the ground floor.

‘Oi,’ a whispered shout comes from above her. She moves back up to see him leaning out of the loft hole.

‘What?’

‘Go out the back door, there’s loads in the street out the front.’

‘Okay,’ Paula whispers back, ‘which way to the hills?’

‘What hills?’

‘The big bloody hills that surround the town!’

‘They don’t surround the town, the sea is on one side.’

‘Nigel!’

‘That way,’ he replies sulkily.

‘What way? I can’t see which way you’re pointing.’

‘Oh…yeah course…out the back and…well the back of the house faces the hills.’

‘Thanks.’

‘You’re welcome,’ the loft hatch closes again.

‘Nigel…Nigel…Nigel,’ she whispers urgently.

‘What?!’ The hatch cracks open.

‘Bye then,’ she chuckles mischievously.

At the back door she gently steps outside and takes care to close it slowly, wincing when the lock snaps back into place. The fire still rages in the distance casting an orange glow into the sky which settles over the whole town.

Straight line from here then and with a deep breath she sets off, once more clutching the sub machine gun.

It takes time but eventually she reaches the outskirts, snaking through allotments and playing fields as she works back along in the direction of her truck. Coming in from a different angle now and several times she stops with worry, thinking she’s overshot the truck and moving back to search again.

Finally reaching it she holds still for long minutes, scanning the area until sure the coast is clear and no traps have been set.

Out the field and once onto the road she accelerates, leaving it several more minutes before switching the headlights on, and even then she only does the first click to put them on low. Paula drives for several miles along the main road, then turns onto country lanes heading away from the town. Lefts and rights, long stretches then more turns. Sweeping through tiny hamlets until she’s absolutely sure there is more than enough distance between her and the seaside town.

Only then does she find a field on raised ground and choose her ground for the night. Driving the last few minutes with the lights off, then out the vehicle and onto the roof, scanning and listening for long minutes. With her eyes adjusting to the dark she can make out the hedgerows from the moonlight and satisfied the field is clear she exhales and relaxes.

A few minutes later, with a cup of black tea and munching a few snack bars she goes over everything that happened. A whole town full of them and still no idea why. But they’re aggressive and hungry, pumped up and ready for the kill.

She refuses to let the image of the children enter her head, forcibly removing them and applying her mind to the problem at hand.

There is a reason for the massing. That is obvious and what’s also obvious is there are too many for her to take on. They’re too hungry, too mean and aggressive.

With decent forward planning and time to formulate she knows she could take them. With enough equipment she could attack them bit by bit and reduce their numbers with every night.

But it’s late now, and after another frantic night she can feel the tiredness plucking at her eyes. She gets cleaned up, going through the same ritual as before and walking a fair distance away from the vehicle before urinating on the grass then pouring water on her puddle to reduce the smell.

Cleaned, fed and watered she climbs into the back of the vehicle, pistol and rifle both within reach. Doors locked. Windows cracked just enough for air flow.

Plans and ideas thought and realised become visual images mixed with the fleeting touch of a child’s hand as it falls away to the darkness of sleep.

Nineteen

Town to layby; hatchback parked and secured. Layby to field; Volvo parked and secured. Van opened, kettle on and he starts de-kitting. The compound bow, unused for the first night in well over a week is placed on the retaining hook on the wall. Arrows carefully removed from the bag and put away into a second quiver hanging from a hook next to the bow.

Night bag placed nearby, long barrelled shotgun propped against the open sliding door. Sword in easy reach. Night vision goggles still stuck on his forehead.

Doctors.

They have doctors.

This is profound, like a calling. Proper doctors that can look at his mouth and the tumours growing up his spine, although admittedly the pain in his back had now completely gone from the long walk about town but nevertheless, it was definitely still some kind of growth or mutating cells infected by a deadly disease.

Not that disease. That disease didn’t bother him. Things that he could see didn’t bother him at all. They were zombies, overtly zombies. The undead. The walking dead. The risen. Biters. Crawlers. Feeders. They were overtly, visually infected so that was different. It was the stuff you couldn’t see that bothered Roy.

Over the last twelve days he’d got extremely proficient at hitting moving targets. Hunting with bows was illegal in the England, so getting target practise on a moving target was near on impossible. But, if somebody won’t go to the big thing then the big thing will have to go to that bloke instead. He scratches his head trying to remember the saying, or did it involve an elephant and that bloke from the A-Team?

Hitting a moving target couldn’t be practised, so he did the next best thing and moved himself round the static target. Walking left and right, up and down. Circling, looping and twirling until he got better and better.

Transferring those skills to the zombies was quite hard at first. Roy had got so used to moving himself, that suddenly being static against a moving target scrambled his instincts. So he moved too until he got the groove back.

No, the zombies held no greater fear than having a finger cut off, or breaking a leg. Those things were regrettable but not fear causing. They didn’t inspire the terror that internal bodily problems gave him.

And as for the insides of the body, since practising with the sword day after day he’d seen enough of them to become very familiar. Picking out the major organs of the foes he had slain. Discovering just how long entrails were and what eight pints of blood really looked like when it sprayed out.

He’d been lucky as they were so slow for the first few days which meant he got regular practise with the sword.

After smashing in the window of the local Blockbusters he’s grabbed every sword fighting film he could find and taken them back to watch on his laptop wired to a big caravan leisure battery. Most of them were useless but the big budget Hollywood ones were okay in the sense the actors had clearly been given training to look authentic.

With practise he became proficient with not only the blade but with the weight and length of the sword, and by the end of the week he realised why this weapon had endured thousands of years. The more he read and studied the more he also realised just how effective a Roman army testudo formation would be against a horde of zombies. Shields locked together and a steady march and thrust. If it was effective enough against Barbarian armies ten times the size of the Romans then it would surely work against a few ropey old zombie folk.

But, that would mean finding other people to hold shields, and that would mean talking to other people, which was something Roy had never quite gotten the hang of doing. Unless they were doctors of course.

They have doctors. Roy realised his mind was spinning and working too fast from the exciting news. Good lord! Those doctors will be amazed at how he’s been able to function with so many deadly diseases and illnesses within his body. They’d probably keep him as a test subject and write papers.

What first? Pack the van up and move out. But it’s still night and he doesn't like driving at night so maybe a cup of something soothing. No caffeine of course, that would raise his heart rate and blood pressure this late in the day. Caffeine was for the morning only. This called for Camomile, yes, a nice hot mug of relaxing Camomile tea. Maybe with some boiled rice to give his stomach something to digest. Rice had slow acting carbs so that was okay and it would mean he had greater energy levels in the morning.

The tea doesn't have the effect he was hoping for. That feeling of nerves was starting to build, that fear that he would be seeing a doctor tomorrow and be given the bad news. Maybe a week to live? Two at the very most?

Roy wondered if they had any stocks of the anti-depressant he was prescribed and stopped taking when the outbreak started. Maybe he should have got some from the pharmacy today. But he didn’t like taking them, they were just dulling his sense and making him slow witted. He didn’t need them, not now. He needed to be alert and switched on and besides, they didn’t do anything anyway.

Maybe he was a bit more tense the last day or so, but that was to be expected with giant tumours and growths sprouting out all over his body, and his gums playing up. Thinking of which he automatically moves to his personal bag to grab his toothbrush and paste, commencing his thorough brushing technique while clutching the bottle or Corsodyl like a security blanket. After brushing vigorously he rinsed his mouth with clean water. Clenching his eyes shut as he spits it out onto the grass. Couldn’t risk seeing blood in his spit, that would just send him into full meltdown.

The taste of the Corsodyl had an almost immediate effect of making Roy feel better. The familiar minty chemical taste swilling side to side.

Done, finished and still his mind races with the news. He grabs the compound bow, pauses, puts it back and pulls out the longbow instead. It required far greater effort and skill than the compound so the soothing effect would be better too.

With the night vision goggles still planted across his eyes he nocks the first arrow and lifts the bow, feeling the pull of his muscles as he stretches his right arm back. Loose and the arrow flies off, embedding into the post some twenty metres away.

First shot and he took it steady, easing his muscles into work. Second and third shots were the same, letting his body get the feel for the heavy draw of the bow. Slowly he warms up and as he does so, he steps back increasing the distance to the post. The string is pulled back further, the arrows fly faster, the swish of the string followed an instant later by the dull thud of the arrow head striking the thick wooden post.

Further back he goes and now with his muscles warmed up he increases his rate of fire. They say that the English bowmen at the battle of Agincourt could fire ten arrows a minute, which was one arrow every six seconds. But that was mass firing into the air without picking the target. He couldn’t hope to match one every six seconds, not at night while aiming for a post now seventy metres away. No, the best he could do was one every ten seconds unless he really got into the groove, then it might drop down to one every eight seconds.

His mind emptied of everything apart from the arrow; that was all that mattered. He switched posts when the first one became too full, picking a thinner one to stick it full of arrows. Working from the top and keeping them in a straight line going down as low as he could see.

Roy couldn’t afford many arrows before the outbreak and constantly had to keep stopping during his target practise to collect his arrows. Looting the store at the club house had yielded more arrows than he could ever fire. So he kept going, loosing arrows until his arm ached and his shoulders tired. Depleting the nervous energy, numbing his mind into a state of relaxed bliss.

It did the trick and after collecting his arrows he heads back to his van.

The bed was made up, thick roll mats with a sleeping bag rolled out on the van floor. A small 12 volt oscillating fan wired to a battery kept the air moving when the doors were closed. Lying on his back with the shotguns and the night vision goggles within reach he starts to drift off. Dreaming of doctors in pristine white lab coats holding stethoscopes while nodding at him with a perfect bedside manner.

Twenty

Nausea swims through her head and stomach. Sweating through the night until eventually with the dawn of the new day she relented from the oppressive heat and flopped down onto the grass outside to sleep in the cooler night air. The heat in the vehicle was just too much and she knew that staying in there would mean no sleep, and in turn that meant lack of alertness and general fatigue which wouldn’t do.

There was just no air. It felt stifling to the point of being extreme. Paula thinks of the sea, of the cool waters drawing the heat from her body as she plunges in. A swimming pool, a cold shower, a lake, reservoir, bloody hell a big puddle would do it now.

Instead she settles for stripping off and pouring bottles of water over her head and body. The water was warm but at least a couple of degrees cooler than the air so the effect, although only marginal, was still there.

With the stove heating her water for morning coffee she washes her hair, massaging the suds deep into her scalp before rinsing off. Just the act of having freshly washed hair made her feel cleaner all over, the fresh smell gave her a sense of being civilised and human.

Grabbing a small bowl she fills it with more water and a sprinkling of washing powder before dropping two of her black vest tops in to scrub them with her hands. Rubbing the material to scrub the stale sweat and dirt away.

The thought process of the horde within the seaside town being too big had started to wane during the night. There wasn’t too many of them, it just seemed that way. But with the right planning they could be taken and the sense of challenge was there. It didn’t need a full on attack, the principle of taking smaller bites out of them was still there.

That was the plan for today; go back and start planning the attack. Work out which part to attack first, draw a list of equipment and supplies she would need then head off into the surrounding towns to find them. It could be done, there was no reason to run away and hide. Not now, not ever.

The tops were wrung out and draped over the already hot roof of the vehicle. The thin material would take minutes to dry out in this weather, until then she pottered about, brushing teeth, cleaning nails, drinking coffee and eating tinned food. She checked the weapons as much as she could, wishing she knew how to strip them down and clean them. They couldn’t be that hard to figure out but the risk of doing something wrong was too great. The vest tops were turned after ten minutes and after packing the rear of the vehicle up she was ready but the tops were still damp. They would start to smell musty if she put them on now. Instead she wedges them into the top of the rear windows drives off in her bra, knowing the movement of the warm air will finish the drying off.

Out the field and she starts heading back towards the seaside town. Thirteen days today she mused. Tomorrow will be two full weeks since the apocalypse began and how the world had changed in those two weeks. What would it be like in another two weeks, or in two months? Would there be anyone left?

Not a cloud in the sky, just a vast unbroken blueness that seemed to stretch on forever. The heat was like nothing she had experienced, energy sapping and awful, making her want nothing other than to find cool shade and sit down to do nothing.

This time she used the map to find a way onto the downs from the other side, following an unmade track for several miles as it slowly ascended to the peak where she could look down on the breath-taking view of the gorgeous sea glinting in the morning sun.

The ruined smoking mass of the industrial estate drew her eye first, it was hard not too with the still smoking buildings and the blackened ruins of the units. She’d expected to see the a much greater scene of devastation but the fire had been contained to those units closest to the gas bottle plant and they were mostly burnt out.

Then she saw the lines, stretching back along every main road all through the town, and the thick column marching out on one side. Using the binoculars she twists the focus, bringing the front of the column into view then scanning along through the town, along the centre and out towards the eastern side.

Every single one of them was facing west, the direction they were waiting to move off into. The front was several ranks across and evenly spaced, in fact they were all evenly spaced and controlled too. An army. No doubt about it. Masses of infantry all lined up in ranks and about to march off.

The sight of them, of the organised manner in which they waited sent shivers up and down her spine. From her battles with Thomas she knew they could be controlled and directed, but not like this. They were more like rabid dogs that were just unleashed in the general direction of the prey. But this below her was far more organised and controlled than anything she had seen so far.

As the column moved off, the ones waiting held position and moved off together, visually keeping abreast of one another with the same distance between the others in front and the ones behind.

A chilling sight of an invading army. Suddenly not the grotesque monsters charging round at night but an awful, terrible disciplined mass of hungry beasts that wanted nothing more than to kill and feast.

They were heading west towards Portsmouth. Her instincts had been right; they had massed here for a reason. Using an isolated town to build vast numbers in preparation for something, and it was prepared. Prepared, planned and done with purpose for a specific task.

But what was that purpose? Who or what were they after. Unless it was just a general sweep along the coast to clear everything in their path, like a scorched earth policy, street by street, house by house and turn everyone they found along the way.

Using the map she finds the town and moves steadily along the coast, trying to identify what was there they could be after.

Small towns, villages, seaside resorts all dotted about and then the major cities of Portsmouth and Southampton, then more coastal towns and villages.

Google maps would be better, she could zoom in and try to pick out any likely targets. They were heading west so the target was west. Not inland or any other direction but a specific and chosen route.

She drives back down the hill and finds the main road, navigating to work a route that will bring her out in front of them. Then drive on and find whatever is in their path to warn them of the coming army.

Twenty One

A single drop of water can slide from a blade of grass into a puddle that forms a trickle and glides gently towards the stream which cascades over pebbles into the river which surges forward with ever increasing strength to the sea.

As it is with the fort and the sheer number of bloody people turning up. Agnes and her group were simply the spear head of a much large contingent all making their way here. Families and groups from every direction, all of them hearing about the fort and the pissing shops we don’t have and turning up with the promise of a safe haven.

Maddox and I make the decision to keep them outside until we’ve got the rest of the bodies out, simply because to let them in now will create havoc with the clean-up operation. Lenski, Sierra and Lani do wonders outside and with so much going on I keep forgetting she could be infected. Necessity means we have to trust her, and besides, there is a very glum looking Dave following her every move.

Nick is sent to the GPMG up top with a crew so Cookey and Blowers can team up and work outside. Walking up and down the queues and rows of people and vehicles to smile and nod, make conversation and apologise for the delay, while all the time keeping a bloody close eye on everyone.

The crew stationed outside get the idea and soon they split into smaller groups, walking up and down the sides to copy the two older lads.

The piles of bodies in the estate causes some great concern, as does the lorry constantly going out from the fort stacked high with more rotting corpses. Lani and the others deal with it brilliantly; sticking to the basic facts that someone left a gate open but it is now completely secure with extra guards stationed everywhere.

‘Getting there,’ I remark to Maddox as we walk through the fort side by side, something we’ve been doing ever since he got here. He doesn't speak much and clearly isn’t one for small talk.

He nods, ‘the ground is filthy,’ he points, ‘once the last of the bodies are taken we’ll get those hoses out.’

‘Agnes,’ I call out as the big woman strides away with a crew following in her wake, since setting up she’s taken it upon herself to grab small groups one at a time and take them away for “feeding and cleaning” as she puts it with a hearty laugh.

‘Have you two had food yet? Don’t make me keep asking,’ her voice booming across the fort.

‘We will,’ Maddox replies quickly, ‘have you got disinfectant in there?’

‘Young man,’ she booms, ‘my stores have more disinfectant than you will ever need what you want it for?’

‘Er…the ground out here…to clean the blood away,’ Maddox explains.

‘Leave it with me,’ she barks with another laugh before striding off to feed the group behind her.

‘Did you hear that?’ I ask Maddox quietly once she’s out of earshot, ‘my stores…she’s only been here an hour or two.’

‘She reminds me of my Grandmother,’ Maddox says, ‘she scared the shit out of me.’

‘I can see why…’

‘Boss,’ Clarence walks up clutching a bottle of water, ‘how many we got outside now?’

‘Loads mate, fuck knows where they’re all coming from.’

‘Any medical staff yet?’

‘Not that I’ve heard.’

Maddox glances at Clarence then at me, ‘you keep asking each other that, why you need medical people so urgently?’

Shrugging I try to pass it off without issue, ‘got to be good to have them, so we can do the vetting and checks…or if anyone gets hurt.’

‘Nah,’ he shakes his head, ‘something else, what is it?’

‘Nothing mate, just we realise how important it is.’

‘Howie, if you got something going on then we should know about it…none of your crew are injured so…’

‘Dave to Mr Howie, can you come out the front please. A nurse has arrived.’

‘Okay mate, two minutes.’

‘A nurse?’ Maddox asks. I look to Clarence who stares down at Maddox with a keen gaze then across to me.

‘Dog?’ I ask Clarence for his opinion.

‘Might as well,’ Clarence replies, ‘I don’t think it can do any harm.’

‘Dog?’ Maddox asks, ‘what about it?’

‘She’s immune…’

‘What!?’

‘Exactly, she’s killed tons of them, ripping their throats out, biting hands and fingers off, swallowing blood and god knows what else but she hasn’t turned…’

‘And they’ve bitten her several times and she still hasn’t turned,’ Clarence adds.

Maddox nods with understanding, looking between us, ‘why didn’t you say that before?’

‘Why would we? No offence mate but it’s a big thing and we can’t risk her.’

‘But now we know we can make sure we protect her if anything happens,’ Maddox counters, ‘so why she out there exposed if she so important.’

‘Because she can smell them,’ I reply quickly, ‘she detects them instantly and starts growling and going mad…’

‘And she’s psychotic,’ Clarence jumps in again, ‘she’s probably killed as many as Dave.’

‘No way,’ I retort, ‘not possible.’

‘Since we got her?’ Clarence asks, ‘during that fight she didn’t stop killing.’

‘Yeah,’ I say slowly, ‘maybe…that would be an interesting one.’

‘What Dave against Meredith?’ Clarence grins.

‘About this dog,’ Maddox prompts, ‘that’s why you want medical staff, but a nurse ain’t gonna do it…you need doctors and scientists for that kind of thing.’

‘True, but it’s a start until we can find one.’

‘All dogs or just her?’

‘Don’t know mate, she’s the only one we’ve seen. We heard about her and went specifically looking for her.’

‘Immunity is possible then,’ he remarks quietly then senses something else unspoken between Clarence and me, ‘what?’ he asks quickly.

‘Sharp as a bloody knife you are,’ Clarence smiles.

‘What then?’ He shrugs, ‘Lani!’ He nods with realisation.

‘Lani?’ I ask trying to hide it.

‘Yeah Lani, what’s up with her?’

‘What?’

‘You got Dave following her everywhere and the dog too, you just said how bad they both are, so you got your two hardest shadowing one person everywhere she goes and…’ he points at me, ‘she ain’t holding her rifle round the front either, she got it slung behind her.’

‘So?’ I shrug feeling like an idiot for giving it away so easily.

‘And she keeps touching her stomach like she been hurt.’

‘Fucking hell Maddox, you should have been a copper son,’ Clarence sighs.

‘Me? A fed? No way bruv,’ he grins slipping back into street language, ‘come on,’ he goads us switching back to a refined tone, ‘we in this together or what? We keeping secrets then fuck you.’

‘Easy mate,’ I blanch at the direct manner.

‘No,’ he shakes his head, ‘fuck you if you gonna be doing all secret shit, I don’t like it when people think I’m stupid.’

‘No one said anything about you being stupid, clearly the opposite…’

‘So what then?’

‘Okay, but this stays between us and I fucking mean that, you hear me?’ The power in my voice snaps his eyes on me, he nods seriously. ‘Lani got cut yesterday, really bad wound to the stomach, she was dying so…well we had a way of turning her…’

‘Fucking what?’ He flares with an instant look of distaste.

‘Listen,’ Clarence urges him speaking low and fast.

‘It’s a long story but we got caught out in the fight, we were losing badly and another…er…well load of undead saved us, a woman called Marcy who said she didn’t want to be like the others. She could speak and act like normal…just fucking hang on and listen, you wanted to know,’ I whisper fiercely as he starts reacting.

‘Okay, go on,’ he says.

‘Long story and I’ll fill you in later but we let her turn Lani, she said she could save her and anyway so Lani got turned, she was one of them red eyes… the fucking works…it all went bent and we ended up killing them all…’

‘So this lot are from that woman, not the ones that lived here?’

‘Yes mate, the ones that lived here were killed out on the flatlands and stacked up yesterday, but we found Lani this morning tied up and gagged in the visitor centre toilets…’

‘She doesn't have red eyes,’ Maddox cuts in.

‘No mate, she doesn't and Meredith isn’t reacting to her either, there’s no sign of it. The infection makes them heal faster than us, clots the blood quicker which is why it’s so fucking hard to kill them, her wound is healed far better than it should be but now, there’s no sign of it. We got Dave and the dog with her the whole time in case she turns…we don’t know what’s going on with her.’

‘She seems normal,’ Maddox agrees, ‘I didn’t know her before but yeah, no sign of it.’

‘That doesn't mean she isn’t infected, it could be a fucking trick or…’

‘A trick? How?’

‘Mate, we’ve been non-stop against those fucking things since this started and they’re getting more cunning by the day…that Marcy was a trick to get us turned.’

‘I can see why you didn’t say anything, but how long would you have left it?’

‘Moot point,’ Clarence says in his deep voice, ‘not relevant now, you know and that’s it.’

‘So she could still infect others, or,’ he pauses, ‘she could be immune.’

‘Yep, which is why we’re keeping it schtum mate, if anyone finds out they could just try and kill her, not wanting to take the risk but…if she is immune then we got to protect her.’

‘Yeah right, definitely,’ Maddox nods, ‘I was thinking we should tell some of my lot but no, they shouldn’t know, they’re good but they’re young and will say something. I am going to tell Lenski and the other two though.’

‘Darius and Sierra? You sure that’s a good idea?’ I ask him.

‘Yes, I wouldn’t have said it otherwise,’ he looks at me pointedly, ‘we in this together or we two separate groups living in the same place? What if something happens to my lot and I don’t tell you about it? We start off like that and it gets fucked up real quick.’

‘Fair enough, but let’s do it together later, with Lani there too…’ I suggest.

‘That’s fair,’ Clarence nods towards Maddox.

‘Agreed,’ he replies quickly, ‘I appreciate you telling me but…is there anything else I should know?’

‘Nothing urgent, we’ll tell you the full thing later.’

‘Maddox,’  a voice calls out. We turn round to see the ground now cleared with the last of the bodies on the lorry, ‘all done,’ the youth adds.

He gives instructions to get the ground hosed and brushed down with disinfectant before following Clarence and I out the front gate to find Dave.

The sight amazes me, long queues of vehicles stacked up and stretching back into the flatlands, people milling about and chatting to each other. Bottles of water being handed around, food shared and children running between the vehicles.

Lani and Lenski turn and walk towards us with a middle aged man following them.

‘How many?’ I ask with a shocked voice.

‘Er, fifty two,’ Lenski replies with a glance at her clipboard.

‘You got a nurse then?’ I ask looking round.

‘Yeah,’ Lani grins, catching me out, she waits for a second before looking at the man, ‘Mr Howie this is Frank, Frank this is Mr Howie.’

‘Good to meet you,’ he steps forward, thickset with old faded tattoos on his forearms, receding grey hair and an easy smile.

‘Hi, you too…oh you’re the nurse?’ I realise, feeling very sexist for expecting to see a woman.

‘Ha don’t worry,’ he grins, ‘I get it all the time, twenty years in Accident and Emergency.’

‘Bloody hell mate, sorry about that,’ I grin sheepishly, ‘we got medical stuff coming out of our ears but no one to use it, plus we want to get everyone checked before they come in, you know for…’

‘Bites, scratches, broken skin, funny red eyes…yeah that’s not a problem,’ he jumps in, ‘guess that means I jump the queue then.’

‘Oh yes, but,’ I add quickly, ‘it means you get checked first.’

‘Fair enough.’

‘Who you with?’

‘My wife and daughter, they’re back there.’

‘Are they medically trained?’

‘Not really, my wife worked on reception at the hospital so she’s got an idea of what’s bad and my daughter was going to start training next year…to be a nurse.’

‘How old is she?’ Clarence asks.

‘Seventeen, she’s sensible and knows a fair bit.’

‘Can we use her and your wife to help check the women and kids that come through? If you tell them what to look for?’ Lani asks.

‘Yeah, yeah of course,’ he nods.

‘Get them through and set up, Clarence you alright checking Frank?’

‘On it.’

I wait a second until they stroll off then get the others gathered in a group around Maddox and I. Darius and Sierra standing next to Lenski, Blowers and Cookey with Lani, ‘right we’ve got the bodies cleared away, last load is going out now…’

‘Crews are gonna hose down and clean the ground then we gotta get everyone inside,’ Maddox takes over with a seamless transition, everyone looking from me to him.

‘But we need to work out where they are going to go first, do we allocate a space or let them go for it?’

‘I think,’ Lenski replies, ‘we get the space for crews yes? Then after this the people they find own space.’

‘Or we give them a defined area to use, so they don’t just end up anywhere, otherwise they’ll be all over the place,’ I say.

‘Is good point,’ Lenski concedes, ‘the crews I think go at the back so they have the space…’

‘I was thinking of putting them at the front,’ I add quickly, ‘so we got a sort of fighting force ready to react and closest to the main gates.’

‘Definitely,’ Maddox nods, ‘crews at the front between the gates and the ramp to the wall, a clear line of space then everyone else behind them.’

‘That’s that sorted, how we going to implement it?’

‘Simple,’ Lani looks at me, ‘we’ll just lead them in one set at a time and show them where to pitch.’

‘What if they don’t have tents?’ Cookey asks, ‘have we got spare stuff?’

‘Work it out as we go, I think we should do the same as before and ask them to give over their supplies but don’t force them…’

‘We do this already,’ Lenski, ‘and I sorry but I tell them they not coming in here unless they give it to us.’

‘Oh right, okay,’ I nod, ‘I just don’t want people to think we’re dictating to them.’

‘But there has to be the rules yes? The food it have to be shared so they share it or go somewhere different.’

‘I agree,’ Lani adds, ‘we’re doing it nicely so don’t worry and everyone seems to understand. We’re not taking it off them, we’re just saying they have to take it to the stores when they get in.’

‘Fair enough, vehicles?’

‘Same thing,’ Lani replies, ‘we’re listing who has what vehicle, they get parked with the others and all the keys held somewhere and if they want to leave they can take the vehicle they came in.’

‘Sounds good,’ Maddox says, ‘but we’re gonna run out of space, just take the best vehicles and the rest will have to be put somewhere else.’

‘Where?’ Lenski asks.

‘Like the boss said,’ Maddox grins, ‘we’ll work that out as we go.’ I pick up on him calling me the boss but don’t show a reaction.

‘Okay, so we do crews first…Darius and Sierra you do this yes?’ Lenski asks, ‘once the ground is cleaned we unload and get ready before we get these people inside.’

The group drifts apart, Maddox walking off with Lenski, Darius and Sierra heading inside and the two lads resuming their patrol.

‘You alright?’ I ask Lani and Dave.

‘Fine,’ Lani nods.

‘Dave?’

‘Good Mr Howie.’

‘Er…any sign of anything?’

‘Nothing,’ Lani shakes her head, ‘my stomach hurts a bit but I took some painkillers to ease it off, other than that I feel completely normal.’

‘Dave, you seen anything?’

‘No, she would be dead if I did,’ he replies matter of fact.

‘Nice,’ Lani scoffs.

‘I told Maddox,’ I say quietly, ‘he’d sort of worked out something was going on.’

‘Was he okay?’ Lani asks.

‘Yeah, shocked like we were but I promised to tell him the full story later when we can all sit down, if you’re okay with that.’

‘We should be honest,’ Lani nods, ‘I keep wanting to tell Lenski but…we don’t get five minutes.’

‘We’ll do it later. Right…what a fucking day again.’

‘Telling me,’ Lani says walking off with Dave stepping silently behind her.

Twenty Two

There they are, the front of the horde marching at her. Rank and file holding space beating an even step. The ragged wounds and injuries made all the worse by the organised controlled manner of their march.

Getting onto the coastal road had been easy enough but heading back towards the town had been nerve shredding. Thinking that round every corner would be the horde who would surge and engulf the vehicle. Catching sight of them in the distance was lucky.

The ground was flat so she couldn’t see beyond the first few ranks, just a solid wall of undead that blocked the width of the road and stretched back. Terrible and awesome all at the same time.

Dead bodies that were inhabited and controlled by something unseen and evil, an entity that possessed them and made them do things like this. Something so powerful it could control thousands of bodies at the same time, making them march in perfect timing.

They could see her, there was no doubt about it. But they didn’t show any reaction but maintained the same pace. She left it until the inner voice was screaming to go, move now before they burst into a sprint. Still they didn’t react and held that awful steady clumping pace.

With just metres to go she floored the pedal and felt the surge of the vehicle pulling away. All she had to do now was keep going and find what they were going after.

The coastal road wound inland through hamlets and small holdings before drifting lazily back to the coast, often going close to the shore line with solid views of the blue sea stretching out to the horizon. If it wasn’t for the deadly army behind her, the view would be breath-taking and make her want to stop and soak it in. Maybe park up and find an isolated beach for a swim.

At every point of interest she slowed down, examining remote farms in the distance or rows of rural cottages set back behind pretty gardens. Isolated country pubs smashed and looted or boarded up with thick sheets of ply hastily pilfered from the local timber yard.

Nothing stood out, nothing that would warrant a horde that size. The next town was a big one, substantial enough to have a seaside promenade, a town centre and its own commercial, industrial and sprawling residential zones.

The road sweeping in to the town went straight from rural country to urban with no steady transition. Fields then buildings. An abrupt change that jarred the senses and should have had the town planners taken round the back to be beaten with hoses. A heavy sudden vibration of the vehicle catches her unawares, not noticing the cattle grid until going over it. The four wheel drive absorbed the impact with ease but it still jolted her senses and made her realise why the sudden change. The fields here must be owned and used as grazing land for cattle and with an obstinate farmer in possession the town planners could plan all they wanted, but unless they took out a compulsory purchase order their town simply could not extend in that direction.

The cattle grid was an interesting feature, a long metal structure that broke the surface of the road for several metres. High barb wire fences on both sides so it was the only way through. If they could be wired up to mains electric they would set a wonderful trap and slow the horde down. However, the mains were now off so that idea was negated instantly.

No. No it wasn’t. Batteries contained electricity and if several of those were wired up they would still provide a nasty shock. She’d used car batteries before in her old town, wiring them to door handles to give the zombies a nice jolt.

Scanning the area she searched for any premises that might sell or use them, there were enough vehicles left on the roadside to use but that would take too much time unbolting them and then she’d still need the connecting wires. Checking the map she makes a quick calculation; they were at least six miles behind her and travelling at no more than four miles an hour, that gave her an hour and a half at the very most. That was enough time to get something rigged up and the cattle grid was a natural funnel that was just too good an opportunity to miss.

She finds a large garage well before going into the town centre. A quiet side street with an old fashioned workshop and costly petrol prices with old style fuel pumps and a faded sign stating attendance service. Quaint and a throw-back to a period now never to be repeated. It doesn't take long to smash the window pane of the door, then reach through to unlock and gain entry. Once inside she hurries through the reception area into the workshop and straight to the back where the spare tyres, wheels and other parts are stored.

A stack of batteries under a branded sign informing of deep cycle designed for leisure caravanning. Big batteries and they’re bloody heavy too. She starts carrying them out one at a time, staggering under the heavy weight and dumping them in the back of her open boot. Sweating heavily from the rushed exertion she piles them in then hunts along the display stand grabbing plastic bags containing the thick red and black wires with the big crocodile clips.

Back at the cattle grid and she unloads the batteries, stacking them on the ground to one side. Each time she bends over to drop one down, a stream of sweat drips from her nose to soak instantly into the scorched ground. The heat saps at her energy, she breathes faster and harder, knowing that every minute that passes brings them closer.

Red to positive and black to negative, she clips the leads on and connects the batteries to each other. Seven of them lined up and the last set of leads are stretched to the cattle grid.

‘Shit,’ she spits with anger at the leads not being long enough. Seven weighty batteries are shifted along inches at a time so the wires don’t unclip. Back to the last one and she curses again at the crocodile clip being too small to bite onto any of the thick metal bars of the grid.

The bolts on the frame are the only bits small enough to stretch the mouth of the crocodile clip on and again that means shifting every single battery. Rushing like a competitor from a strong man competition she runs between the batteries heaving them along until the last wires will reach the bolts.

Once on the grid will be live. Now does she attach the black first or the red? With the heat, the rushing and the growing sense of pressure she forgets which goes on first. Has to the red positive lead.

Biting her bottom lip she leans in and hovers the red wire above the bolt, grimacing she sticks it on and exhales when nothing happens.

Now the black, if this is wrong she will either be sent flying off or the muscles in her hand will clamp down and hold onto the surge of electricity. No time to waste so with another grimace she sticks the black clip to the next bolt and jumps back.

No sign that the grid is live, no arcing sparks or hum of electricity. The batteries could be dead for all she knows. A sudden desire to test the grid comes into her head, but how? Pretty short of stepping on the thing there is no way of knowing. The live rail on at train stations doesn't look any different to the others. It must be live.

Seven big leisure batteries all in a line, the combined voltage or wattage or amps, or whatever they use to calculate it will be pumping into the grid. The second anyone touches it and the connection is made, they get zapped. The grid is long so it will slow them down for a few minutes at the very least, and if the ones behind push the front ranks forward then a few will get zapped to death too.

What else? This road is prime for traps to be set.  How long has she taken to get the batteries rigged up? Half hour at the most, so she still has an hour.

The broken glass tactic takes too long to set up but the upturned nails is quick, they just need scattering. Back to the truck and she pulls the cardboard boxes out and starts back to the grid. Huge drawing pin style tacks with heavy heads and inch long spikes.

Inches from the grid she starts scattering them across the ground, again it won’t stop them but it will start to hurt them and open their feet up. Deep cuts that will lacerate the flesh and each step taken after that will make the cut worse until they’re limping and weaker. Even if only ten are felled it’s still ten less that can hurt whoever they’re going after.

With the tacks down the temptation to keep going is too great to resist. The only route is this road and with the building line just metres away it’s perfect for more traps to be set.

Standing facing the grid she starts walking backwards, imagining the width of the them and how they will fan out once through the narrower bottle neck. The razor wire would work well if the connecting string was threaded across the road here and the coils set back to the sides of the road to be pulled in.

That garage had fuel pumps, if they could be activated and the petrol pumped out she could do the fire trick again and burn them down.  But the ground slopes slightly here so the fuel would run off to gather at one side or drain away. The fumes would still ignite but then in this heat it would soon dry out.

Those gas bottles on the industrial estate were good too, if they could be set down amongst the seats of fire the resulting explosion would also cut them down. Vehicles parked across the road would block their movements and slow them down. Maybe some kind of delayed fuse or something going into the fuel tanks, then drive further on and get more traps set and keep going. Constant chunks taken out of them to wither them down to nothing.

She turns round to start heading back to her vehicle, stopping within two steps to stare up the road at the horde gathered there. For a second she panics, thinking she’s got the direction wrong then realises this group are simply moving down to join the horde about to come through.

A whole mass of them, solid lines stretching across the road and lacking the organised coordination of the marching column coming from the other direction. They also lack the restraint and on seeing her they start charging. Paula doesn't know the reason for the change in behaviour, why these are running and the other ones don’t but it’s enough to get her moving. The jolting fright propels the adrenalin into her legs as she sprints to the vehicle.

The speed of them is staggering, an all-out fast charge and clearly hell bent on getting to her. Into the driver’s seat and she twists the key, gunning the engine as she pushes the gear stick into first. The only available junction is up ahead, other than that it’s back the way she came, over the nails and live cattle grid. Foot to the floor and the engine roars as she accelerates. They charge towards her, veering over towards the junction as though to cut her off.

Second gear and it’s done badly, the vehicle shuddering from the rapid movements of her feet on the pedals. They come on strong and quick, throwing themselves into the path of her vehicle, surging forward with body mass to prevent her getting to the road.

With yards to go the fastest are throwing themselves at the front of the four wheel drive, slamming onto the bonnet and impacting on the sides. Loud bangs and thumps shudder the frame. One leaps high, smashing onto the bonnet and riding up to crash bodily into the windscreen. It clings on, blocking her view, spider web fractures spreading out across the glass.

From calm to all out mayhem within a couple of seconds and she keeps going, unable to see the road ahead but feeling as bodies impact at the wheels and sides. The passenger side window implodes as a head rams through it, the snarling face howling as it tries to wriggle through. Screaming she grabs the rifle and fires, aiming point blank at the head. The rounds spin through the cranium bursting the skull apart. The body slumps but remains wedged in place.

Still with her view blocked she pulls the wheel hard, trying to dislodge the body on the windscreen. The front hits something hard, the sound of screeching metal that breaks and pulls the vehicle to a slow pace then something snaps and it surges forward again. Out of the control with no idea what direction she is going she twists the wheel left and right, catching a glimpse of a brick wall ahead of her.

Stamping hard on the brakes the body flies off to splat against the wall and slide down, inches away from the solid structure she realises she’s metres into the junction but veered hard over to the left side.

Reverse selected and she stretches her left arm over the back of the passenger seat, twisting round to watch as she powers backwards. Figures running at the vehicle and slamming into the back, more coming from the sides. The engine whines louder as she builds speed up while trying to get back onto the road proper. The aggression they show is immense, pure unadulterated fury, driven by lustful hunger that sends them surging to their deaths. So many of them, the road fills with figures charging round the corner into the side road.

Heavy on the brake and she grinds the gear into first but her feet and hands are out of synch, the engine stalls with a juddering stop. She pushes the clutch down and twists the ignition key back then forward, the engine ticks then fires. Looking out the driver’s window at the shaven headed undead running straight towards her. Head lowered and teeth barred, aiming for the glass and it will smash through to sink its teeth into her face. Time slows and she knows deep within her heart there is no way she can push her foot down to engage the engine to move fast enough to evade the impact from this one solitary animal coming at her. The laws of physics just will not allow it to happen. In that instant she knows it’s over. It will smash through the window and be upon her, and even if she does manage to fend him off so many more will engulf the vehicle.

She watches transfixed as it comes, all in split second she wonders what life he had, who he was, what happened to his family? Did he work? What defined this person before he became one of the things? Does he know what is happening? Trapped in the body of a raging monster, screaming to be released, knowing and alert but unable to do anything. So human, so very human but then so animalistic in nature, predatory to the point of being a monster from the worst nightmare imaginable. She even takes in the chipped tooth at the front and the small scar running across its forehead. Inches away and she accepts the inevitable then blinks as it is taken away, simply not there anymore.

Reality hits, the sound of the engine roaring to gather speed, gear meshing and it pulls away. Another one charges in, aiming for the windscreen then it too is just gone, taken away with a flash of something dark. One vaults onto the bonnet and slides up to press its face against the glass, hand pulled back to smash through the already fractured screen. Something drives it forward ramming the head through the glass and driving the body inches into the cabin. A long stick poking out the back of the skull.

Glancing up at a man stood next to a huge blue van, already pulling another arrow into his bow, lifting and firing in one fluid movement and another drops.

Roy takes the one on the bonnet, seeing its arm coming back to hammer the glass in. He knows the impact of the arrow will drive the body forward through the glass but there is no choice so he fires. He doesn't wait to see the impact as he knows the outcome the very second the arrow is loosed.

His hand drops, feeling for the fletch of the next arrow and pulls it up, nocks as he lifts, aims and loose. The arrow flies true and straight, the immense power of the compound bow driving the barbed head deep into the skull of one going for the passenger door.

One on the roof, scrabbling to gain purchase. Fletch, nock, lift and loose and it flies off, the carbon fibre arrow slamming deep into the brain. The black four wheel drive seems to take an eternity to gather speed, the engine roars but little power is given to the wheels.

‘GET OUT AND RUN,’ Roy shouts as he looses another arrow. She seems to hesitate, slamming her fists against the steering wheel. He takes the next one charging at the driver’s door.

‘RUN,’ he shouts again, he doesn't feel panicked or flushed with worry. This is firing arrows and is the most calming thing in the world. His breathing is normal and controlled, his heart rate barely fluttering above normal. Eyes scanning as he grabs the feels the fletch, lifts the arrow into the rest at the same instant as nocking the grooved end into the string, all done as the string is already being pulled back and the bow lifts. The arrow flies, simply going where he wants it to go. Straight and true and taking another one of its feet.

Finally she makes a decision and scans round before wrenching the door open to drop out clutching a rifle. Into a crouch and she aims and fires several times, the loud cracks distinct against the silence only previously broken by the guttural howls of the undead charging forward.

She drops several then leans into the vehicle, grabbing a rucksack and started to run. Roy aims at the one coming up behind her, loosing the arrow to miss her head by inches as it drives into the eye socket of the undead.

She sprints hard, eyes fixed on him as he grabs, nocks, pulls lifts aims and looses, taking the next closest one down.

Roy looses the next one as she reaches the front passenger door, wrenching it open and diving in.

‘Cover me,’ he says calmly.

The second he hears the rifle crack he drops the bow into the van, slams the side door closed and drops down to run under the passenger side window. Round the front and into the driver’s seat. She fires carefully, placing her shots as he engages first gear and pulls away.

The powerful engine complies instantly, turning in a wide arc as he holds the wheel over to the right. Straightening up he listens to the thumps and bangs as they reach the back of the van, slamming into the sheer sides but with nothing to grasp or hold they simply fall away as he applies speed and creates distance.

The woman stares back out of the window, leaning further and further out as if to keep them in sight for as long as possible.

‘Thanks,’ she faces forward breathing hard, her face flushed with red cheeks, hair plastered across her forehead and still gripping the black machine gun.

‘Paula,’ she says with ragged breath.

‘Could you do me a favour?’ Roy asks keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

‘What?’ Paula gasps, still with the heat of battle.

‘Can you check my back please?’ Roy leans forward over the steering wheel.

‘Why did they get you?’ Paula demands.

‘God no!’ Roy replies, ‘I think I’ve got a lump there, can you have a look and see if you can see anything.’

‘What?’

‘My back, my lower back…’ using one hand he tugs the bottom of his t shirt up revealing his lower back, ‘is there a lump there?’

Still breathing hard with a head spinning from the chaos of the last few minutes she bends over to peer at his perfectly normal back.

‘Nothing there.’

‘You sure? There must be a lump or something, is the skin raised?’

‘No, nothing,’ Paula replies then glances out the front, her movements still fast and twitchy.

‘What about a rash? Is there a rash?’

She looks again, staring hard at the skin on his back, ‘there’s nothing, it’s clear…just normal.’

‘Oh thank god for that,’ he breathes a huge sigh of relief, ‘you don’t know how worried I’ve been, honestly I really thought there was a lump there, tried feeling myself but you know how it is, twisting round and everything feels weird.’

‘Right,’ Paula nods still staring with wild eyes.

‘Don’t suppose you’re a doctor by any chance?’

‘Eh? No…’

‘Oh, nurse? Medically trained? Vet maybe?’

‘No,’ she shakes her head, ‘accountant.’

‘Accountant, was it a big firm?’

‘Er…quite big why?’

‘Did you have a designated first aider?’

‘What? Yes…I was…what? Why?...’

‘Which course did you do? Was it the one day basic course or the advanced?’

‘Is someone hurt?’ She asks.

‘No why?’

‘Why are you asking me then?’

‘Just wanted to know,’ he replies, ‘was it the one day basic then or the advanced?’

‘Er, I did two afternoons; someone came in and did a few of us…why?’ She grimaces at the memory of all the office men staring at her backside while she bent over to practise mouth to mouth on the doll, then the jokes and comments that followed every time they mentioned chest compressions.

‘Oh,’ Roy says glumly, ‘that one, yeah figures.’

‘I…bloody hell,’ Paula wipes the sweat from her face and stares about in bewilderment. Grabbing her bag she pulls a bottle of water out to take a long swig then leans back out the window to check behind them, ‘er…who are you?’ She asks.

‘Roy.’

‘No I mean who are you? Why were you there? And how the hell did you do that with a bow and arrow? I mean thank you but bloody hell that was amazing.’

‘Thanks,’ Roy nods.

‘So?’ Paula prompts after several seconds of silence, ‘who are you and why were you there?’

‘I’m Roy, have you got a brain injury?’

‘What? No why?’

‘You keep asking my name. It’s Roy.’

‘Sorry, I meant…I just meant what were you doing there?’

‘You didn’t say that, you kept saying who are you.’

‘Yes, sorry…just a bit shocked I guess…so what were you doing there?’

‘Going for the coastal road to find the fort,’ he replies happily.

‘Oh,’ she nods, ‘what fort?’ This must be a dream. She glances over at the man driving, a bald head with a light layer of very fair stubble on his scalp and chin. He looks clean and handsome in a rugged kind of way, dressed in a tight top that clings to his frame but the way he was firing those arrows, that was unbelievable.

‘Have you not heard?’ He asks conversationally.

‘About what?’ She shakes her head.

‘The fort,’ he repeats, ‘they’ve got doctors and a hospital, shops and a man called Mr Howie that keeps it safe.’

‘Really? Where is it?’ Paula leans forward staring in shock.

‘Somewhere between here and Portsmouth, that’s why I was going for the coastal road but then I saw them….then I saw you and well, couldn’t just leave you there, thought you might be a doctor or something.’

‘Doctor? No…just an accountant, sorry.’

‘Not your fault.’

‘That makes sense,’ Paula mutters, nodding to herself.

‘What does?’ Roy asks.

‘Why they’re all going that way…is there a lot of people at this fort?’

‘Thousands from what I hear, I just hope they’ve got a spare bed in the hospital.’

‘Why?’

‘So I can use it,’ he answers as if it’s the most obvious thing ever.

‘Are you hurt? What’s wrong?’ Paula switches on, realising how many times he’s mentioned doctors now, ‘is it your back?’

‘What?’ Roy asks in alarm, ‘you said my back was fine…did you see something? Is there a lump?’

‘No! There wasn’t anything…but you keep mentioning doctors and you said about your back so I…’

‘I knew it, I fucking knew it,’ Roy shakes his head.

‘Knew what?’

‘My back! I knew there was something there, look Paula, I know we only just met but you can tell it to me straight…there was a growth wasn’t there.’

‘No!’ Paula reels.

‘Come on, just be honest…I would rather know.’

‘There was nothing there, honestly…really nothing there.’

‘Check again.’

‘Okay,’ she shrugs, he leans forward tugging the top up again. Bending over she examines his back closely and without thinking extends a hand to run over his skin making him flinch, ‘sorry,’ she says on instinct.

‘That’s okay…what did you feel?’

‘Nothing, really there is nothing there, it felt fine. Does it hurt?’

‘Oh my god,’ Roy wails, ‘why would it hurt? You saw something didn’t you?’

‘What!? No…I’m just asking because you keep mentioning it…’

‘Sure?’ He asks in a quiet meek voice.

‘I’m sure,’ she says softly staring across at the strange man.

‘Oh fuck…really? Are you sure?’

‘Roy, there was nothing there…there is nothing there, I promise.’

‘Okay,’ he nods quickly and takes a deep breath, ‘okay.’

‘So…’ she pauses thinking how to ask him again, ‘does it hurt er…anywhere? Do you need a doctor?’

‘God yes,’ he blurts out, ‘my mouth is in pieces and I know I’ve got lumps growing and tumours…it’s been what? Two weeks since I saw a doctor and god knows what’s developed since then.’

‘Jesus Roy, I’m so sorry,’ she says still shocked and struggling to keep up.’

‘What for?’ He asks quickly.

‘Well, you know…that you’re having to deal with that while all this is happening.’

‘Deal with what?’

‘Having Canc…’

‘Don’t say it!’

‘What?’

‘Don’t say that word…why would you say that? Oh my god do you think I look ill?’

Paula shakes her head again, thinking this must be what swimming through mud must feel like, ‘No you don’t look ill, you look fine…I mean I never met you before but you look fine now…’

‘Then why would you say that?’

She rubs her eyes and forehead, feeling the strain more than ever, ‘look,’ she snaps, ‘are you ill or not?’

‘Probably…I do get this weird sensation when I squeeze my thighs together really hard.’

‘Right,’ she nods, ‘I thought you said it was your back?’

‘It is, and I get that sensation too, plus my mouth… I must be riddled with it, head to toe and everything infected and diseased and…’

‘Riddled with what?’ Exasperated she cuts him off, staring across as he watches the road.

‘With whatever I’ve got, probably loads of things…I did a diabetes check but I think the machine was broken and the blood pressure machine too, that was faulty…I mean it said I was fine but well, you can’t trust a machine like that can you? You need proper machines with wires and doctors and…

‘Roy, are you ill with anything specific?’

‘I don’t know yet,’ he sighs, ‘wait and see what the doctors say.’

‘Okay,’ she say slowly, ‘have you been diagnosed with anything?’

‘Well no,’ he says quietly, ‘but that doesn't mean something hasn’t developed or started in the last er…thirteen days or…’

‘Okay,’ she nods again as a dim light starts to come on, ‘and your mouth? What’s wrong with that?’

‘Why did you see something…’ He asks quickly.

‘No, not at all but you said your mouth was in bits or something like that.’

‘Oh yes I did didn’t I, well the gums are irritated and well, they just don’t feel right.’

‘Bleeding?’

‘Well no but…’

‘Are they swollen?’

‘Not swollen but…’

‘Do they hurt?’

‘Not actually painful but I can just feel them, you know like they’re a bit irritated…I keep brushing and using mouthwash but…’

‘How often are you brushing?’

‘Oh loads, like every hour sometimes…that’s why I can’t understand why they’re so irritated.’

‘Brushing every hour? And using mouthwash?’

‘Of course, I’m trying to do the best I can and keep the infection at bay but…’

‘Roy, maybe the brushing and mouthwash is irritating your gums? Forgive me for being blunt and I know we only just met but…well anyone who brushes that often will have bad gums…’

‘I did think of that but…’

‘Show me,’ she says firmly.

‘What?’

‘Show me your mouth.’

‘Sure? I mean you know…don’t want to be weird or anything but…’

‘Show me,’ she says again, ‘pull over for a second.’ He brings the van to a gradual stop then holding the foot brake down he faces her and quickly opens his mouth. She leans forward staring as he puts his fingers into the sides of his lips and stretches them wide.

‘Hang on,’ Paula fidgets for the torch, pulling it out to shine into his mouth, ‘teeth are clean, no lumps…nothing swollen or bleeding…gums looks a tiny bit red but that’s from being brushed so much…hang on,’ she says as he starts to murmur with his mouth wide open, ‘she keeps on peering in for several long seconds, making a point of looking into the sides, the roof and under his tongue, ‘fine, they look absolutely fine…nothing wrong there at all.’

‘But you said they looked red.’

‘Not red,’ she corrects, ‘just a bit pinker where you’re brushing so much…honestly Roy there is nothing there.’

He stares at her for a few seconds, deep worry lines etched into the sides of his eyes speak of long periods of anxiety and concern. The dim light grows brighter until it shines down like a football stadium floodlight.

‘Honestly, if I saw anything I would tell you,’ she says sincerely, ‘there was nothing on your back, your mouth is clear…anything else?’

‘There’s a funny sensation when I squeeze my thighs doc.’

‘I’m not a doctor, I’m an accountant.’

‘Yeah right, sorry,’ he shakes his head.

‘What kind of sensation?’

‘Like it tingles a bit,’ he looks worried sick, really panicky.

‘Where?’ She asks gently, trying to remember how her GP spoke to her.

‘In my er…well my bits,’ he mumbles.

‘Do they hurt?’

‘No,’ he shakes his head with such a sorry expression she has to suppress a snort of laughter.

‘And it just tingles a bit when you clamp your legs together, like really hard?’

‘Yeah,’ he nods enthusiastically.

‘Like in your testicles yeah? Just a slight tingle that feels a bit weird?’

‘Yeah,’ he nods harder, clearly hanging off every word she says. Paula adopts a serious expression, hoping she gets this right.

‘Roy,’ she say slowly.

‘Yeah,’ his eyebrows go up as he prepares himself for the bad news.

‘Everyone gets that, well I mean all men get that…it’s your balls being squashed together…that’s it…don’t clamp your legs together so hard and it won’t happen.’

‘Really?’ He asks in a muted voice suddenly full of hope.

‘Oh god yes,’ she nods knowingly, ‘I know loads of men who said the same thing.’

‘Really?’ His eyes light up, ‘loads of men yeah?’

‘Oh yes,’ she nods, ‘my er…dad….my uncles…boyfriends and cousins and well, loads of them.’

‘Oh,’ he whispers, ‘wow…really?’

‘And er…I er…saw a television documentary about it too, one of those doctor programmes, do you watch them?’ She asks lightly.

‘No I’m banned,’ he answers quickly.

‘Banned?’

‘Yeah my doctors told me I wasn’t allowed to watch them.’

That figures she thinks, ‘well yeah I saw this programme and it was all about the er…tingling testicles er…phenomenon…’

‘Really?’ He looks at her in wonder.

‘Oh yeah,’ she says seriously, ‘and that’s what it is, apparently,’ she continues fully in the swing, ‘they get so many men going into GP surgeries about it they commissioned the programme to tell everyone about it.’

‘Oh,’ he says slowly, nodding with interest, ‘yeah that would make sense.’

‘But of course if you don’t watch them then you wouldn’t have seen it.’

‘No,’ Roy shakes his head.

‘So,’ she looks at him, ‘anything else?’

A hand is thrust under her nose, one finger extended. ‘I got a lump,’ he says quickly.

‘Let me see,’ she takes his hand gently and feels along the extended finger, really getting into the swing of it now and she gently opens his hand to feel his other fingers then back to the one he showed her, ‘that,’ she stares at him and notices the instant worry flood across his face again, ‘is a blister.’

‘A blister? Oh right yeah I was sharpening the sword for a few hours.’

‘Sword?’

‘I have a sword.’

‘Good,’ she replies, ‘anything else?’ She asks lightly.

‘Er…I got this rash on my ankle,’ he starts lifting his leg while reaching down to roll his trousers up.

‘Heat rash,’ she says as soon as the tiny red prickles come into view, ‘hot weather, sturdy boots and thick socks…I get the same thing.’

‘Anything else?’ She asks with patience, seeing the worry start to dissipate from his face.

Shaking his head he looks at her in wonder, like a puppy at its new owner, ‘don’t think so,’ he replies.

‘Okay that’s good, so I would say,’ she speaks slowly, ‘that you look to be in perfect health.’

The change in him is palpable, the worry gone instantly and replaced with a big smile and look of complete relief.

‘So about this fort?’ She prompts as he engages first gear to start pulling away.

‘Yeah apparently they’ve got doctors and a hospital there,’ he relays with glee.

‘That’s good, so you’re going there? And I should imagine there must be lots of survivors.’

‘Oh the place will be flooded, people always want to group together…which I never quite understand,’ Roy says.

‘No,’ Paula looks at him keenly, ‘me neither.’

‘I’ve been quite content living on my own, got my van all rigged up and everything I need…’

‘Well I did have until a few minutes ago, but yes I agree with you completely…however there is an almighty army of those things marching towards that fort.’

‘What? Really?’ Roy glances across at her and starts to slow the van down again, bringing it to another gradual stop and clearly being the type of person who doesn't like driving while distracted.

‘Yep, there’s a seaside town back that way…’

‘I know it,’ Roy nods.

‘Full of them. And I mean completely full, thousands and thousands. I noticed the village and towns were empty all round here, then I found them all heading into the town, then this morning they’re marching out and all coming this way.’

‘My town was empty too, I was hunting last night and couldn’t find any.’

‘Hunting?’ Paula asks with sudden interest.

‘With my bow,’ he nods, ‘some people will probably find that weird but I like it…it cuts them down which means less danger.’

‘No, I agree, I was doing that in my town too.’

‘Oh really? With a bow?’ Roy asks hopefully.

‘God no, I was setting traps all over the place, used wire and petrol, broken glass…god all sorts of things.’

‘And them?’ He nods at the rifle then at the pistol on her belt.

‘Not really,’ she replies, ‘they were for defence only.’

‘Ah, like my sword and shotguns…I only used the bow for hunting though.’

‘You’re really good at it, I can’t believe those shots you got.’

‘Thanks, so you get many? At your town I mean?’

‘The whole town,’ she says proudly, ‘took me long enough but I did it.’

‘The whole town you say? Well done,’ he nods with genuine admiration, ‘er…would you like a cup of tea? I’ve got lots of herbal ones…camomile and peppermint…’

‘Coffee?’

‘I have coffee,’ he replies.

‘I’d love one if that’s okay, er…’ she glances out the windows, ‘is it safe here?’

‘Good point,’ he checks the mirrors, ‘I always like using empty fields myself, preferably with a good line of sight all around.’

‘Me too,’ Paula smiles, ‘I had a different field every night,’ she adds as he pulls away.

‘Oh I didn’t, I had one I used for a few nights and then changed, so you didn’t stay in your town then?’

‘No,’ Paula says quickly, ‘went back every day until I got them all.’

‘Oh, I went in the day for supplies and the night for hunting.’

‘In the night for hunting?’ She asks with surprise, ‘that’s dangerous isn’t it.’

‘Got night vision glasses,’ he explains, ‘and if you know how to move and hide, then run and find a new position it’s amazing the damage you can do.’

‘Wow, and that didn’t scare you?’ She stares at him again, suddenly thinking of the fear etched into his face when she looked in his mouth and at his finger.

‘Not really,’ he replies honestly, ‘to be honest they don’t really bother me that much, I was er…never what you would call a people person so…this looks good, alright with you?’ He asks as they broach the entrance to a big field.

‘Perfect,’ she looks round, ‘drive into the middle though so we’ve got a good view.’

‘Okay, yeah so er…the zombies don’t bother me so much.’

‘Zombies,’ she laughs, ‘I always called them the things, couldn’t bring myself to say that word.’

‘Well that’s what they are,’ he comments, bringing the van to a gentle stop and already hopping out.

‘I guess so,’ Paula replies as he comes round the front and draws the sliding door back, ‘oh wow Roy, this is really nice.’

‘You like it?’ He asks with real pleasure at the compliment, ‘I got all those batteries rigged up so I have power, got loads of food and supplies…’

‘Is that a Kindle?’

‘Yes, all charged up too, downloaded hundreds of books the night it started.’

‘Really, that was good thinking…I was trapped in an office with a drunk rapist.’

‘Oh god really?’ Roy asks with shock.

She hesitates, realising what she just said. She doesn't know this man, he could be as dangerous as Clarke for all she knew. But then he didn’t seem dangerous, in fact he seemed completely the opposite and none of the alarm bells were going off, plus he hadn’t looked at her chest once yet despite the tight top she was wearing.

‘Er…’

‘Awful, fucking awful,’ he tuts and shakes his head again she glances at him. The way he speaks so calm and mild mannered, polite but yet swearing too. ‘I hope he didn’t hurt you.’

‘Not really,’ she shrugs wishing she never mentioned it.

‘Do you take milk and sugar? Only got the powdered milk I’m afraid although I do have a book I downloaded on how to milk a cow…so if you see one do shout up and we can get some fresh milk.’

‘Okay,’ she laughs, pleased at the change of subject, ‘doesn't it have to be pasteurised?’

‘Oh I wouldn’t worry too much about that,’ he replies clicking the small travel kettle on. Again she feels confused at a man so worried about any mark on his body yet apparently prepared to drink unfiltered milk fresh from a cow.

She watches as he takes the compound bow he left on the floor and carefully places it on the wall before checking his arrow supply and re-stocking the quiver from a big bag.

Leaning in she glances at the various bows hanging down, then at the bag containing the butts of the sawn off shotguns, the long barrelled one he draws out to rest against the side of the van and then the sword.

‘That’s the sword then is it?’ She asks, ‘may I?’

‘Please do,’ he replies turning his attention back to the drink making.

‘Very nice, have you used it much?’ She weighs it carefully in her hand, eyeing the length and thickness of the sharpened blade.

‘Quite a bit, mainly in the day when they’re slow…having said that did you notice the changes in them over the last few days?’

‘Definitely, bloody hard work too. In end I had to plan for them being like that all the time.’

‘Hmmm, me too,’ Roy replies, ‘don’t know what caused it, I figured it must be the infection inside of them, you know…trying to make them work harder or find more people to eat.’

‘Did you know they could talk?’

‘Really?’ Roy asks in a shocked tone handing her a mug of coffee over, ‘no…I can’t say as I ever spoke to one, other than to tell it to fuck off or something.’

She glances at him again, at the way he swore so fluently yet the contrast between the politeness and the swearing was almost jarring.

‘They do, I met one called Thomas…’

‘Gave you his name did he?’ Roy remarks, ‘well that is strange. Have much to say?’

‘Not really,’ she replies, ‘asked me to go peacefully, said he would get me…that sort of thing, left me a nice note though.’

‘A note? You don’t say? What did it say?’

‘Just telling me to find others of my own kind and lead a peaceful life,’ she laughs as he rolls his eyes.

‘Well what would he know?’ Roy comments drily.

‘But,’ she say quickly, ‘he did hint at something big happening and now of course I know what he meant.’

Roy nods sipping his then reaches in to grab a folding chair to open on the grass a short distance away, he goes to sit down then stands back up and offers Paula the chair. Shaking her head she sits on the edge of the van, ‘there are thousands of them, and all heading this way…well I mean that way,’ she points back the way they came from, ‘and what you said about the fort makes sense, we should warn them.’

‘Of course,’ Roy replies, ‘which makes me wonder why we’re sat here drinking tea when we should be doing just that.’

‘True,’ Paula nods and takes another sip of the coffee, ‘although I was trying to get some traps down to slow them up…that’s when I got trapped.’

‘Traps?’ Roy prompts.

‘Electrified a cattle grid with car batteries and put some tacks down…that’s as far as I got.’

‘Good try but it won’t stop thousands, the juice will drain with the first few.’

‘Oh it was only a stop-gap, you know…just to buy a little time but I didn’t realise that town already had a load, didn’t check properly which was stupid of me.’

‘Yes it was,’ Roy replies matter of fact, now a completely different man compared to the nervous wreck a few minutes ago. ‘Are they all on foot?’

She nods swallowing her coffee before answering, ‘marching, all in perfect time and in perfect rank too.’

He blanches at the news, nodding as though thinking deeply, ‘that is worrying.’

‘Scary too, seeing them do that I mean, do you have a map?’

‘No, sorry…didn’t really need one.’

‘Mines in my car,’ she grimaces, ‘how far do you think the fort is?’

‘Not sure…maybe thirty miles…could be more.’

‘So it will take them sometime to get there, if you’re right about the distance.’

‘If I’m right,’ he concedes, ‘but certainly not less than twenty miles anyway.’ She notices his steady gaze and the way he moves his head as though constantly listening for sounds. He still hasn’t checked her chest out or stared in any weird way. Thirteen days of hell and he seems completely normal, well as normal as any bow and arrow using, sword wielding hypochondriac can be.

‘Plan,’ she states firmly, ‘we get there and warn them, unless we find anything else on the way that they could be after…then come back and start cutting them down. There’ll be other villages, towns and places I can get things set up…the further the distance to the fort the more time I will have…Maybe find some supplies and…’

Roy watches her far stare off into the distance as she speaks. He didn’t like people. He didn’t like any people as a rule, unless they were doctors but the way she spoke to him in the front of the van; well she sounded just like a doctor. She even touched his finger the way a doctor would. He knows she isn’t a doctor but she’s here and she was kind and understanding. Just the few words from her took the anxiety down to a level he barely felt. It was there and it probably always would be but she had suppressed it the same way a visit to the doctors normally did.

And she hasn’t looked at him like a freak, not once. No snide comments or spiteful remarks yet. She seemed confident and sturdy of mind and more than that, she oozed independence with a skill for self-survival, not clinging to the ordinary rules of society but carving her own path. Choosing a different route to everyone else, fighting back for the sake of it and not for the glory. Roy detected the pride in her when she said she’d rid her whole town, not boastful but pride in the sense of doing something that she knew was good.

‘We have to get going,’ she stands up quickly with a sense of urgency. The few minutes of talking with another human being and drinking coffee have brought her mind back to full alertness and made her realise just how desperate the situation is.

Without thinking she starts packing the van away, her mind whirring as her hands start working automatically. She holds her hand out for his cup, which he hands over without a word and picks her rifle up to carry back to the front.

Loaded up and ready they drive off. Heading to the fort to warn of the zombie army marching their way.

Twenty Three

‘He’s all clear,’ Clarence says as he steps out of the medical tent, ‘the wife and daughter have been checked too, they’re getting some screens put up so they can just use that tent.’

‘Nice one mate, he seems alright.’

‘Unflappable, mind you twenty years in a London hospital emergency room will do that.’

‘Fair point, what you grinning at?’ I ask Maddox as he steps through from the inner gate with a huge grin on his face.

‘Have you see this?’ He points over his shoulder. We walk over and step through into the fort. Darius and Sierra are marking out the ground for the crews and beyond them stands Agnes, tall and proud with her hands on her hips directing children holding brooms, brushes, mops, buckets and others carrying bright yellow plastic bags and wearing disposable latex gloves to pick bits of body off the ground. Several hoses are already spraying water onto the stained ground as Agnes directs the youths to get their backs into it.

‘Shit,’ I exclaim quietly, ‘I didn’t mean for her to get the ground cleared.’

‘Well she’s doing it, and they’ve all been fed,’ Maddox replies.

‘Your lot don’t mind doing what she says then?’ Clarence asks.

‘They’re shit scared of her,’ Maddox laughs.

‘At least this heat will dry it out quickly and…’

‘Mr Howie,’ Blowers interrupts me walking through the gate with Cookey right behind him.

‘Alright mate, what’s up?’

‘We were speaking to some bloke that turned up and he said his town emptied out overnight.’

‘Do what?’ I ask confused at what he means.

‘The zombies,’ Cookey adds with an apologetic nod to Clarence, ‘he said all the zombies went overnight, just walked off…then we started speaking to someone else…

‘Who said the same thing,’ Blowers continues, ‘different village something like twenty miles away…they kept hearing them every night but not last night, when they got up this morning the whole place was empty.’

‘Seriously?’ I ask looking at them both.

‘Yeah,’ Cookey nods emphatically, ‘we went down the line asking people and they all saying the same thing…’

‘…that’s why so many are coming now, cos the things have fucked off so they can get out and do one to here.’

‘Howie?’ Lani calls from the other side of the gate.

‘In here,’ I shout back, watching as she steps through with Lenski and Dave.

‘Did they tell you?’

‘Yeah.’

‘We just checked with some more, nearly all of them are saying the same thing, and others saw the lines walking away.’

‘Lines?’ Maddox queries.

‘Lines of the things, walking off together…explains why we’re getting so many people here.’

‘It does, where they going?’ I ask.

‘East,’ Lenski replies, ‘everyone they say the same, the things they go that way,’ she motions towards the east.

‘Massing,’ Clarence rumbles, ‘There can’t be that many left though.’

‘Darren brought loads here and we killed them all, plus all those last night and yesterday,’ Cookey says.

‘Darren?’ Maddox asks.

‘Another long story…’ I start to say.

‘I said this before,’ Dave adds flatly, ‘Darren brought his from London and picked them up on the way. That Paco and the dog killed high numbers in their town which tells us there are still high numbers within the population zones, the numbers we’ve killed are nothing compared to the general population.’

‘Fuck,’ Blowers adds, ‘they’re gonna be coming for us again.’

‘Really, they come here?’ Lenski asks.

‘No doubt,’ I reply, ‘they just don’t fucking give up do they.’

‘I don’t feel anything, nothing…if they’re all being pulled somewhere then…’ Lani looks down at the ground as though thinking hard.

‘I not understand,’ Lenski says quickly.

‘Later,’ Maddox cuts in firmly with a nod to his partner, ‘we got any idea of distance or location?’

‘Nah nothing,’ Blowers replies, ‘fuckers are just marching off and going east.’

‘Right,’ every pair of eyes snaps to me, ‘Clarence, you take Dave and start showing the crews how to use the assault rifles…’

‘What about Lani?’ Dave asks.

‘What about Lani?’ Lenski asks with another look between us.

‘Lani got turned yesterday, she was infected…we all saw it but she isn’t showing any signs of it now…’ I explain rapidly.

‘Immune?’ Lenski gasps.

‘Don’t know, not sure…anyway…Get those crews trained to shoot and Maddox, you get a couple of your people to guard the armoury, we get this ground cleared up quickly and those people inside as fast as possible…’

‘Wait,’ Lenski shakes her head, ‘Lani is immune? This is amazing…’

‘It is but we’ve got a lot to do,’ I say hurriedly.

‘I might be, we don’t know anything,’ Lani adds.

‘Listen,’ I snap, we can talk about it later, ‘we get the ground cleared and those people inside as soon as humanly possible, Lads make sure the Saxon is fully loaded and ready to go, make sure Nick knows what you’ve just told me…’

‘Why the rush?’ Clarence asks.

‘We’re going after them that’s why,’ I look at him, then at the others, ‘we’re not waiting for them to come here, I’m fucking sick of it…we’re ending this.’

‘This madness,’ Lenski replies with a glare, ‘we have the big walls and the guns, we wait they come here and we shoot them yes?’

‘Not this time,’ I shake my head, ‘these fuckers can fuck off and get fucked.’

‘Well said,’ Clarence grumbles.

‘I’m in,’ Blowers nods, ‘about time we fucking had them.’

‘Good, we get this place sorted and we go out, we take as much fire power as we can and fucking slaughter them.’

‘We got that second GPMG too,’ Clarence says.

‘Yeah we’ll take that.’

‘We’ll take some crews with us,’ Maddox adds.

‘Not us mate,’ I shake my head at him, ‘you got to run this place, we’re doing this.’

‘Oh not again,’ Lani sighs, ‘here we go.’

‘What?’ Lenski asks struggling to keep up.

‘Howie picking a fight with some massive horde again and not letting anyone else play.’

‘He do this before?’

‘Ha, loads of times,’ Cookey grins, ‘and it’s fucking great.’

‘I’m coming,’ Lani glares at me.

‘No fucking way,’ I reply with Clarence and the lads all saying the same thing.

‘Not happening Lani,’ Clarence says.

‘You said that last time,’ Lani replies, ‘and I still went…you…’

‘And you agreed that if we took you with us you’d do as I said when I said it,’ I snap at her, ‘if you’re immune then we don’t take the fucking risk…’

‘And if I’m immune then it doesn't fucking matter if I get bitten does it?’ She growls.

‘Ooh she’s swearing,’ Cookey mutters taking a step back.

‘Howie’s right,’ Maddox cuts in, ‘it would be stupid to risk you.’

‘So me and the dog stay here?’ Lani asks pointedly.

‘Lani and Meredith are both very good fighters, ‘Dave states then stares round with a blank look.

‘Leave Lani here and I’ll bring some crews,’ Maddox says.

‘I am coming,’ Lani hisses, ‘there is no discussion…I am going and that’s all there is to it.’

‘Don’t be so bloody ridiculous,’ I snap, ‘you are the most important one here now, if anything we should be locking you up or…or…bloody strapping you to a boat in the sea.’

‘Try it,’ she glares, ‘and I’m not the most important one here and we all know it.’

‘She’s right,’ Dave adds.

‘Don’t fucking start that…’ I look between them, ‘not that…Lani and the dog…they are the special ones…’

‘No,’ Dave replies.

‘What is this please?’ Lenski asks, ‘I get the headache and you people are very strange yes?’

‘Oh for fuck’s sake why do you have to make things so complicated,’ I groan, ‘Lani you are staying here, the dog too….the rest of us are going out….Maddox it’s up to you if you want to come but personally I would rather you stayed here…’

‘Maddox he will go with you,’ Lenski says with a tone as firm as Lani, ‘Maddox he good at the fight and the crew too, show them the guns and they kill many.’

‘Fine, but only a few so we can stay light and move fast…everyone get on…we’ve got a lot to do.’

‘I’m coming,’ Lani calls out as I walk off. She runs after me and grabs my arm when I don’t reply, ‘I’m coming too,’ she repeats.

‘No,’ I go to walk off.

‘I’ve had your back since I joined with you and that is not stopping now,’ she says in an urgent whisper.

‘Lani…’

‘No, look what happened last night…remember that? If I was here that wouldn’t have happened, you almost died or got turned or…well, that bitch almost had you and what if she’s leading this new lot?…I’m coming and despite how angry I am with you I will be standing at your back again, understand?’

‘Fucking hell Lani…’

‘Don’t fucking hell Lani me Howie,’ she spits, ‘this isn’t up for discussion…you are the special one amongst us and that means we keep our team together until we find the answer to all this.’

‘Lani,’ I growl, ‘don’t fucking start doing a Dave on me…’

‘Look at me Howie, look at me…’ she steps in closer, ‘you will lead and you will win…you have to believe in yourself…no don’t interrupt me, look at me Howie…you will lead and you will survive, you will end this…no one else but you can do that, you understand me?’

‘STOP!’

‘Listen to me,’ she speaks soft and urgent, coming in closer, within arm’s reach now, ‘you will do this, you are strong and you have to believe in yourself.’

‘This is fucking stupid…what is it with you and Dave…’

‘And Clarence…and Cookey and Blowers and Nick? What Howie? What is it with all of us? What was it with Chris and Tom and everyone else that has fought with you?’

‘Just fuck off.’

‘Don’t ever tell me to fuck off,’ she snaps, ‘not now and not ever.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean…’

‘I will be with you, so will Meredith because this only works because of you Howie…don’t ask me how I know because I don’t know myself…I can just feel it…but don’t you ever speak to me like that again.’

‘Sorry Lani, I really didn’t mean it like that.’

‘Swear all you want but don’t swear at me.’

‘Okay,’ I hold my hands up, ‘I’m sorry, I really am.’

‘Good, agreed then,’ she starts walking off.

‘No hang on,’ I grab her arm this time, pulling her round to face me, ‘we haven’t agreed anything.’

‘Why are you going after them?’

‘What?’

‘Why are you going after them? As soon as you heard they’re massing you had that thing…I saw it…so did the others…why?’

‘I already said why, I’m sick of them…it’s time to end it.’

‘Exactly,’ she looks at me, ‘you made that decision and even Maddox is up for it…this is the bloke who will stop at nothing to protect his crews…even his bloody girlfriend said he should go with you.’

‘So?’

‘Oh my god Howie, how can you not see what everyone else sees? You,’ she leans forward with an intense, earnest look, ‘make people believe in you, you,’ she pauses, ‘have something so amazing…we all know it, Chris knew it, your sister knew it…’

‘Stop Lani,’ I plead.

‘No, it’s time you heard this, we all know it…remember that night in the van when Maddox was going for us?’

‘Yes,’ I sigh, ‘and that was a bloody stupid conversation too.’

‘No,’ she shakes her head, ‘any one of us would have walked out there and then to make sure you lived…why did Marcy go for you then?’

‘Fucking hell, I don’t know?’

‘Yes you do, why, out of all the people she could go for…does she make a beeline for you?’

…they fear you, we all fear you…there’s a power in you that’s so dangerous but so good…Marcy’s words from last night flood through my mind, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I start to realise just how many times people have said this.

‘You know what I mean don’t you,’ she states.

‘No…maybe…I don’t know…’

‘Yes you do,’ she adds softly, ‘so I’m coming and I will be right at your back the same as I have been…and this time I will not let you down.’

‘You didn’t let me down.’

‘I did, I should have been there last night but I wasn’t…that won’t happen again…listen, I don’t know what this thing is doing to me or has done to me, but I’m not going to question it too much either…that’s your job…mine is to cover your back, the same as Dave…the same as Clarence…You will fix this Howie and we’ll all be right with you when you do.’

She walks off leaving me reeling on the spot and it feels like the weight of the world just landed on my shoulders.

Only it didn’t did it. The team have made it clear they’ll stand with me no matter what the odds. And Lani was right, even Maddox and Lenski were up for it, like my blind enthusiasm is as contagious as the infection.

Maybe this is meant to be then.

Fuck it. Who am I argue.

Twenty Four

The summoning had begun long before Marcy failed to turn Howie and his people. The infection had accounted for the failure and had carefully selected the isolated town to draw all the hosts from the nearby towns and villages. Others that were on the selected route to the fort were gathered and held waiting until the main group passed through.

Tens of thousands drawn from miles around. The knowledge and experience gained from so many failures has propelled the infection to select overwhelming numbers, a huge force that will crush those survivors and allow the examination of Howie to begin.

But something else had happened. A connection has been lost but not through the death of the host. The infection knows each death suffered by each host. This connection had simply faded away.

The body was taken in the same manner as all the others. Every cell was taken over, every organ infected until the heart was stopped and then the body re-started in the perfect state.

There was no sign of anything different. It had the hunger and complied with the orders given by the lead host.

It was hours before the natural defences started making use of the anti-body, but once it did, it swept through and fought back.

Infected cells were purged. Organs under control of the infection were purified.

Infected blood entered the heart but pure blood came. It would not tolerate the foreign body being within this environment.

The infection knew it was being defeated and it fought back, desperately trying to re-infect those cells and organs but they were now shielded and protected.

The brain was the last to go. The final stand made by the infection as it tried to shut the body down and end the purge. But the flood gates were open by this point and there was no escape. Pure blood pumped into the most powerful organic material known on the earth and with it the anti-bodies that defeated the infection. Neural pathways were subjected to bombing missions. Synapses were strafed, centres for control saw invasions that swept the infection aside. Deep tissue was targeted with more precision than the most technologically advanced smart bomb could ever hope for.

The last remaining single solitary cell was surrounded on all sides by a tidal wave of anti-bodies sent to destroy it. This host body not only removed the infection but it then immunised it from ever taking that infection back in.

The infection evolves and learns.

This body evolved and learnt too, and made sure Lani wouldn’t be infected again.

Twenty Five

She glances over at Dave, he smiles back, an awkward movement that involves his lips twitching but at least he tries, and she appreciates the trying.

Lani almost forgets she was infected. The day has been relentless, utterly relentless with so much to do and organise that stopping for any period of self-reflection just hasn’t been possible. But every time she turns round Dave is there, quietly watching her with those unreadable eyes.

His presence both comforts and chills her and every time she remembers to do so; she fusses Meredith. Just a pat on the head or a quick ear rub. The dog clearly enjoys the attention and looks up at her with big brown eyes and a wag of her tail.

Dave nods each time, understanding that she’s constantly testing to see if the infection has become apparent to the dog. Neither of them know if the testing method is reliable but it’s all they have.

Stepping into an organising role seemed natural. Lani, like the rest of the team knew what needed to be done so she got on with it.

Nick was brilliant on the GPMG and would stay up there for hours being vigilant. The other two lads were put to one of their best skills by simply talking to people and moving around while all time being as watchful as Nick.

Clarence was just Clarence, getting stuck into whatever needed doing and showing a great skill of seeing what needs to be done and doing it, but also accepting Howie’s leadership without question.

As for Howie. He had to keep a step back and see everything. He, along with Maddox, needed to have a full overview of everything that had to be done.

There was also a sense of ownership and responsibility. The fort was theirs so it was only right they got it in order and made sure the new arrivals were coordinated and taken care off.

At the points when she did step back for a second, her mind filled with so many thoughts. Too many for one person to deal with or even hope to understand.

The infection inside her, the loss of so many from the fort, the hurtful thoughts of Howie with Marcy that sent a surge of anger through her, so many people turning up, Lenski and Maddox, being watched by Dave and now a new threat.

News of a massing further down the coast, constant snatches of gossip and whispers of hordes seen in the distance marching off. People waking up to find the undead that had been gathered round their house trapping them inside, were now gone.

And Howie, as soon as he heard of the gathering she saw the change in him. That ruthless demeanour that brought the darkness into his face. She knew as soon as she heard about them massing, that Howie would go after them.

And everything she said to him a few minutes ago was fact. She felt it with every bone in her body. She had felt him when he fought, they all did. A power that poured from him and he didn’t see how they wilted in front of him, hesitating for the briefest of seconds as though unsure of what he is.

Howie was the one to fix this, if anyone could find a way he would. This wasn’t blind devotion or some futile dream of placing the hopes of all the survivors onto one man. This was fact. He had to be supported and that meant she would stay by his side no matter what.

‘More,’ Lenski says the one word with a nod towards the end of the column. It had been growing at an alarming rate all morning and as the survivors and refugees spoke to each other so they heard and told the stories of the gathering. The new arrivals became restless and concerned, constantly asking when they would be allowed in, why they couldn’t go in now and help get it ready. Who was in charge? And the amount of people that have heard of Mr Howie and Dave is staggering. The giant and the lads and even asking Lani if she had met the Chinese girl that runs with them.

Like a folk legend growing before her very eyes and it also made her realise that despite this apocalyptic event, some lines of communication had stayed open. Word of mouth, stories shared along with experiences and horrors.

The fort became an Eden, a beacon of safety and the exploits of Mr Howie and his team became wild with the re-telling. None of them knew that the dark haired man with the brooding eyes that came out every few minutes was the hero they’d all heard so much about. None of them knew the small man flanking Lani was Dave, and none of them knew Lani was bloody Thai and not Chinese.

‘Fucking hell that’s a big queue,’ Roy states, once more showing the conflicting nature of his character as he swears like a trooper while retaining a very polite tone.

‘That’s a big fort,’ Paula replies staring at the huge walls of the building in the distance.

‘And that’s a big pile of bodies,’ Roy nods to the estate. Dragging her eyes away from the now teaming road ahead of the fort, clogged with vehicles, vans, cars and trucks all full to the rafters and people milling about on all sides she looks to the place Roy indicates.

Stacks of corpses, thousands upon thousands of bodies all left to rot. Her now experienced eye takes in the state of decomposition, noting that some are long dead and rotting away after days of being in the sun. Others are fresh with still bright red blood stains on skin and clothing.

‘What happened here?’ She asks quietly.

‘No idea but looks like they got more kills than you and I put together.’

‘You’re not joking,’ Paula comments, ‘maybe they ran out of space,’ she adds with a glance at the queues stacked up outside the fort.

‘Quite possibly,’ he replies, ‘as long as we can tell them about the zombies and I can see a doctor then…’

‘You still want to see a doctor?’

‘Oh god yes,’ he exclaims, ‘I need tests and blood tests and x-rays…I wonder if they have an MRI scanner here.’

‘I doubt it.’

‘You never know, it’s got a hospital so they must have equipment.’

‘Roy, it’s going to be basic field treatment at the most…they won’t have equipment like that.’

‘I’ll fucking get them their equipment if it means I get a proper diagnosis…must be hospitals around here somewhere.’

‘I think we might have other priorities first Roy.’

‘After that,’ he says quickly, ‘we’ll go and kill your zombies and then go and find the hospitals.’

‘My zombies?’ She asks with a raised eyebrow.

He grins, realising what he just said, ‘well, the zombies then…not your zombies…’

‘You coming with me then?’ She asks quietly.

‘Course I am, I thought we’d agreed that already.’

‘Oh right, okay…’

‘I don’t have to if you want to do it yourself…but I figured you know…you lost your car and all your gear so we need to get you some new stuff and a new set of wheels so…’

‘Yeah, no that’s er…thanks Roy…only if you’re sure though.’

‘Hey listen,’ he glances at her, ‘the more of those fuckers we kill…the less chance of me getting bitten so yeah, we’ll sort them out, get your kit and then go for the MRI scanner.’

‘If they don’t already have one,’ she smiles, ‘aren’t they really big?’

‘Well yes but…’

‘And they use loads of power,’ she adds.

‘Good point,’ he nods, ‘might need to get them some generators and stuff too then if they don’t have enough.’

‘You’d really do that? Go to all that trouble to get a scanner so you can get tested.’

‘Yes,’ he replies seriously.

‘Okay,’ she nods, ‘I’ll help.’

‘Really?’

‘Of course, you ‘ve already helped me once and now with getting me new kit and stuff…and you know…going to kill all my zombies,’ he smiles at the phrase, ‘so yeah, course I’ll help if er…you know…if you want help that is.’

‘Look,’ Roy points ahead, ‘they’ve got soldiers,’ he says at seeing Blowers and Cookey stood at the end of the line and waving them in to stop.

‘Hi,’ Blowers smiles and nods at Roy through the driver’s window.

‘Hello,’ Cookey greets Paula, both of the lads scanning the people first, checking eyes then looking down for weapons, injuries or anything else that might be nasty.

‘Hi, do you have an MRI scanner?’ Roy blurts out.

‘A what mate?’ Blowers steps in closer.

‘He said an MRI scanner,’ Cookey says.

‘What’s that then?’ Blowers asks.

‘One of them things they have in hospitals, you lie down and go in this big tube and it scans your body…’

‘Oh yeah I know…why would we have one of them?’ Blowers turns back to the man.

‘You got doctors here so I wondered if you had a scanner, we’ll get one if not.’

‘Eh?’ Blowers shakes his head, squinting at Roy with a confused look.

‘Hey,’ Paula leans forward and smiles, ‘sorry we we’re just having a conversation…forget it…er so this is the fort everyone is talking about?’

‘Yep,’ Cookey grins, ‘we can get you in shortly but you’ll have to hang on here for a bit…have you got any weapons…oh yeah you do…that’s an MP5 oh you got a pistol too.’

‘Got them from a policeman,’ Paula explains.

‘Nice one,’ Cookey grins, ‘you got any more in the back?’

‘Shotguns, bows and arrows…no rifles or handguns though.’

‘Have you been bitten? Scratched? Got broken skin with any risk of the things getting fluid on you?’ Blowers starts asking, they both shake their heads, ‘had much contact with them?’

‘Could say that,’ Paula smiles, ‘listen have you heard about them gathering and…’

‘Yeah everyone is talking about it,’ Cookey replies, ‘off to the east… have you seen them then?’

‘I tracked them to a town, then saw them moving out this morning…they’re heading this way now.’

‘Fuck…really?’ Blowers asks, ‘they’re already moving…how far away are they?’ He looks back to the estate.

‘Thirty, maybe forty miles back from us,’ Roy answers, ‘they’re on foot marching so…’

‘And you saw them?’ Cookey asks seriously.

‘Yes, thousands….never seen so many,’ Paula replies.

‘We got to tell Mr Howie, can you wait here for a minute?’ Cookey asks.

‘No they should come up with us so the boss doesn't have to walk down here…’ Blowers says through the window to Cookey stood the other side.

‘Good point,’ Cookey grins, ‘still a fucktard though,’ he adds quickly, ‘can you follow us please?’

‘Er now?’ Paula asks, slightly baffled at the quick insult thrown across them.

‘Yeah please, we need to tell them what you said, they’ll have questions and…’

‘Them? Who is them?’ Paula asks, ‘and who is this Mr Howie?’

‘He’s in charge,’ Blowers replies, both Paula and Roy switching their gaze from Cookey to Blowers.

‘Is the hospital full?’ Roy asks stepping out of the van.

‘Er…no,’ Blowers replies slowly, ‘it’s er…well it’s empty right now.’

‘Oh that’s good,’ Roy nods at the good news and the prospect of having a bed when they see just how serious his condition is, ‘so the doctors aren’t too busy either then I take it?’

‘Well er…you could say that,’ Blowers replies with a quick glance at Cookey who shrugs at the sight of the two shotgun butts poking out the top of the rucksack he pulls on.

‘We thought it was full up with all these people out here,’ Paula remarks as they walk down the side of the waiting vehicles, earning glances from the other survivors at the heavily armed black clad figures walking with the soldiers.

‘No, empty at the moment,’ Cookey explains, ‘we were out yesterday getting fuel and someone left a gate open…the things got in and er…well they got everyone,’ he says sticking the agreed account to be given.

‘Left a fucking gate open?’ Roy asks appalled, ‘who leaves a gate open? That’s just bloody stupid…how many got turned?’

‘Everyone,’ Blowers replies.

‘Well that was bloody stupid,’ Roy tuts, ‘so where are they now?’

‘Dead,’ Blowers gives the one word answer.

‘Did you kill them?’ Paula asks softly, noticing the incredibly rude way Roy speaks to them.

‘Yes,’ Blowers says with a hard look on his face.

‘Good for you but still a stupid thing to do,’ Roy tuts audibly, ‘bloody idiots leaving a gate open…’

‘They were our friends,’ Cookey says quietly.

‘So shut the fuck up,’ Blowers mutters.

‘Well I was just saying,’ Roy rolls his eyes as Paula looks at him aghast. She plucks at his sleeve, shaking her head and glaring at him as looks over.

‘What?’ He mouths.

‘Shut up,’ she mouths back.

‘I’d do as she says mate,’ Cookey adds on seeing the exchange.

‘Hang on…so the doctors got turned too?’ Roy asks with a fresh look of fear as Paula rolls her eyes.

‘Everyone,’ Blowers replies.

‘No doctors?’

‘No.’

‘We got a nurse now,’ Cookey says.

‘A nurse? You got a nurse?’ Roy starts to sneer then turns to see Paula holding a finger to her lips with a distinctly threatening look on her face.

‘Lani,’ Blowers calls ahead as they approach the front of the queue, she looks up and quickly takes in the two new arrivals. ‘These two just arrived, we need to speak to Mr Howie, they got some information he needs to hear.’

‘Okay, wait here…I’ll get him.’

‘I think we’re ready mate,’ I say to Maddox as we walk through the fort. The ground is still stained in places but it’s been well soaked with disinfectant and almost dry from the incredible heat. The fort looks a different place now with the tents and bodies gone, the blood and gore cleaned away. Agnes gathering all the brooms and cleaning equipment to stack them neatly into a room next to the stores.

He nods as he scans the ground, then over at Darius and Sierra watching the line of youths carrying their supplies in from their vehicles. Tents already going up as the crews work quickly.

‘We are,’ he replies eventually, satisfied that nothing else needs doing before we can open up.

‘Howie and Maddox can you come to the front,’ Lani’s voice comes through the radio.

‘Coming, is it urgent?’

‘No you don’t need to run.’

‘Good, it’s too bloody hot for running.’

‘What now?’ Maddox sighs, ‘I’m starting to think we shoulda stayed in our compound.’

‘Fuck that mate, you stay here and we’ll have it…Get some peace and quiet, you alright?’ I shout over to Clarence and Dave walking amongst a group of kids holding assault rifles. The big man gives a thumbs up and I wonder at the slippage in morals as he trains child soldiers to do the work men should be doing.

‘Don’t worry about them,’ Maddox says, picking on my concern, ‘don’t be fooled by how they look, everyone one of them will kill without hesitating…they ain’t like normal kids.’

‘They can’t be that hard…not all kids from tough estates are like that.’

‘They ain’t all the kids,’ he replies quickly, ‘the estate was full of kids…these are the ones that didn’t have anything else…no family, no homes…parents on drugs or prison or dead…or just fucked off somewhere else.’

‘That bad?’

‘Worse,’ he stares at me, ‘they didn’t have nothing before this…what we got now is more of a family than any of them have ever known…they don’t play with toys or run about playing fucking kiss chase…they grew up fightin’ and stealing’ just to survive.’

‘Mr Howie,’ Lani calls out as we step outside. Two new people, one male and one female. The woman holding a black machine gun with a pistol on her belt, dressed in black combat trousers and a black vest and she looks hard.

The man is dressed similar but in a long sleeve skin tight black wicking top, he looks fit and healthy with a rucksack on his back and the stocks of two sawn off shotguns poking up.

‘Hi,’ I nod across.

‘Mr Howie, this is Paula and Roy, they just arrived,’ Lani says.

We shake hands and nod greetings, both of them staring at me with interest and I guess they must be like the others and have heard stupid things.

‘This is Maddox, he’s in charge here with me,’ I make the introduction, sensing Lani was unsure of what to say.

‘They’re on the move,’ Lani says quickly, ‘Paula said she saw them, where they were massing and saw them moving out this morning…coming this way.’

‘Right,’ I nod, ‘we need to talk, come inside…Blowers and Cookey, you hold here and don’t let anyone in until the crews have unloaded.’

‘Got it,’ Blowers nods

I turn and lead the group through the inner gate to the front of the medical tent, nodding at a line of youths passing objects to each other.

‘You have to get checked before we go in, leave your weapons here…Frank!’ I shout out, he comes out and spots the two new people nodding with a quick thumbs up.

‘Send ‘em in, we’re all set.’

‘Why do we have to give our weapons up?’ Asks Paula,

‘Is that the nurse? Are you the nurse?’ Roy shouts as Frank disappears.

‘I am mate,’ Frank shouts out. Roy ditches his rucksack on the ground and without a further glance walks into the tent leaving Paula stood there shaking her head.

‘Is he alright?’ I ask at the strange behaviour.

‘Only met him a little while ago…’ she checks to make sure he’s gone inside, ‘I think he’s a hypochondriac, keeps going on about tumours and lumps.’

‘Bloody hell, is he stable?’

‘Seems so,’ she says quietly, ‘I got trapped and he saved me with a bow and arrows, he was really far away and firing arrows…getting bloody head shots and they were running flat out.’

‘No way,’ I look at her with interest.

‘Seriously,’ she nods, ‘never seen anything like it…incredible, as soon as we got away he starts asking me to check his back and finger…but,’ she adds firmly, ‘he seems fine, hasn’t been threatening or anything.’

‘Your weapons will be here, no one will touch them. Or you can wait for Roy to come out, up to you,’ Lani cuts in.

‘No I’ll go now, something tells me he’ll be a while,’ she passes the black machine gun to Lani before pulling the pistol clear of the holster and passing that across too.’

‘They’re police issue,’ Maddox comments, ‘are you a police officer?’

‘Accountant,’ she replies, ‘through here?’

‘I’ll take you,’ Lani leads her to the tent.

‘What did they say?’ Maddox asks Lenski while we wait.

‘They say there is town on the coast, it er…it is…’

‘Isolated,’ Lani provides the word as she walks out.

‘Yes they use this word, the town is isolated and the things they go there…now they come here, but the man he say they er…thirty or the forty kilometres away.’

‘Miles,’ Lani corrects.

‘Miles,’ Lenski smiles.

‘Did they say how many?’ Maddox asks.

‘Thousands and the woman, she say they all march like in the army…’

Pursing my lips I wait quietly, wishing Nick was here to hand his smokes around, then remembering Blowers and Cookey are only a few metres away and will have some.

‘Be right back,’ I jog off towards the gate, ‘one of you got a smoke?’ I ask the two lads stood there.

‘Here take my packet,’ Cookey offers a full pack over.

‘Just one mate or I’ll smoke the lot…er…you got a light?’

‘Here boss,’ Blowers pulls his from a pocket, ‘how long we got?’

‘Don’t know yet, not long though…we’re ready to get everyone in but I think we’ll be on the road before they all get settled.’

‘Can’t wait,’ Blowers grins.

‘Seriously?’ I ask him.

‘Seriously,’ he replies.

‘Me too,’ Cookey nods.

‘I’ll keep you updated, you alright out here?’

‘No worries,’ Blowers nods.

‘Could murder a coffee though,’ Cookey adds with a grin.

‘Leave it with me, I’ll get one up to Nick too.’

Going back inside I ask Lenski to ask a youth to ask Agnes to see if she can get some brews on the go. Which is just stupid but we’re all still treading on eggshells around each other and not wanting to breach etiquette.

‘Mr Howie?’ A woman steps out of the medical tent, middle aged and serious looking, ‘I’m Frank’s wife, er…this lady is all clear, no bites or marks, no broken skin…she seems fine.’

‘That’s great, thank you very much,’ I smile as Paula steps out, noticing as she looks straight to Lani and her weapons before anything else.

‘Safe and sound,’ Lani hands them over.

‘You got a spare one?’ Paula nods at my smoke as she pushes the pistol in, ‘I lost mine.’

‘Ask the lads outside,’ I reply feeling a bit guilty.

‘You don’t look like a smoker,’ Lani remarks.

‘Only one or two a day, I stopped for years but…stuff it,’ she smiles.

‘You should stop too,’ Lani looks at me.

‘Tomorrow,’ I reply automatically.

‘Really?’ She asks.

‘Probably not,’ I shrug.

‘Roy still in there?’ Paula asks coming back with a lit cigarette.

‘Er…yeah he is,’ Lani replies.

‘Roy?’ Paula calls out.

‘Yeah, you alright?’ A muffled shout comes from inside the tent.

‘You coming?’

‘Yeah just getting checked.’

‘Roy, we need to get moving.’

‘I know…I’m getting checked.’

‘What are you getting checked?’

‘Er…you know…for bites and things.’

‘He hasn’t got any bites,’ Frank shouts.

‘Roy, your back is fine…and your finger…and your mouth,’ Paula calls out but with a surprisingly gentle tone.

‘Okay,’ he replies dully, ‘coming.’ He appears a minute later looking a bit sheepish, ‘sorry, just thought I’d ask.’

‘That’s okay, did he check them?’ He nods back, staring at her like a puppy, ‘everything okay?’ She asks with what appears to be genuine concern.

‘Fine,’ he nods.

‘Good, we will find some doctors Roy, I promise but we need to tell these people what we’ve seen.’

‘Yep, fucking right,’ he nods making us all start at the sudden swear word he throws out.

‘Good,’ Paula smiles at me.

‘Er…right…follow me,’ I turn and see Maddox looking at me with strange expression, and quite possibly regretting ever coming here.

In the police office we find Agnes with the women she brought in, the gas stove heating two pans of water with a row of mugs all lined up. Clarence joins us as we pass him by, leaving the youths to grab a drink and a promise not to shoot anyone.

‘Need the office do you?’ Agnes beams, ‘we’ll be right out of your way, go on sit down and start your meeting, just pretend we’re not here, everyone having coffee? Good cos that’s what we’re making…did you two have any food?’ She glares at Maddox and me with a sudden intense look.

‘Er…’

‘Don’t be erring me,’ she tuts, ‘I said you should get some food and you promised me…right after your meeting I expect to see you next door in my stores…got it?’

‘Yes Nana….er…Agnes,’ Maddox says with a brief look of horror as everyone stares at him, ‘she reminds me of my grandmother,’ he adds to the ensuing silence.

‘You can Nana me all you like,’ Agnes beams. She organises the brow beaten women into carrying trays of coffee out, leaving a load of freshly brewed mugs on the side, ‘after the meeting you two…’she points at both of us.

‘We will,’ I reply and wait for her to leave before adding ‘Nana’ quietly.

‘Fuck off,’ Maddox shakes his head with a grin.

‘Nana?’ Lenski asks.

‘She’s just like her,’ he shrugs.

We sit down and listen intently as Paula and Roy give their accounts, separately at first as they both explain who they are and how they survived. Then Paula explains how she tracked the zombies to the town and saw them moving out, getting trapped and saved by Roy and the final drive here, noticing the hordes waiting on the coastal road on the way in.

‘Tens of thousands?’ I clarify when she finishes.

‘At least,’ she replies, ‘I was on the hills above the town and it was completely full…every main road…every street…it was like a festival or something.’

‘And marching like that,’ Lani adds, ‘that’s just creepy.’

‘Telling me,’ Paula replies, ‘in perfect timing with you know…perfect space between them.’

‘Organised then, must be a strong leader,’ I look at Dave.

‘Military training too by the sounds of it,’ he replies.

‘Or the infection has learnt some new tricks,’ I add.

‘Did you know they can speak?’ Paula asks.

‘Yes, and they like kissing too apparently,’ Lani mutters.

‘Kissing?’

‘Don’t ask,’ Lani waves it away, ‘but yeah we’ve met speakers, talkers, biters, growlers, crawlers, gnashers, suckers and complete arseholes along our way.’

‘Did you do all those bodies in that area?’ Roy asks.

‘Yeah that was us,’ I reply with a sudden image of Sarah, Chris and everyone else being amongst them, ‘the plan was to burn them later but…’

‘We’ve been saying that for days,’ Clarence mutters.

‘Right, we’re going after them…’

‘What?’ Paula leans forward, ‘you’re going after them?’

‘Yes we are, this isn’t going to stop until we finish it…so we finish it,’ I add with a shrug.

‘Um, forgive me intruding but you’re convinced they are coming here then?’ Roy asks, ‘I mean of course it seems the obvious thing but there couldn’t be something else they are after maybe?’

‘No, no doubt about it…’ I start to reply.

‘They want us,’ Clarence cuts in, ‘or more specifically you,’ he turns to me.

‘Get off,’ I scoff, ‘don’t you bloody start that shit too.’

‘Why you?’ Maddox asks.

‘Long story.’

‘Another one? You haven’t told us the first one yet,’ he says to me with a fixed look.

‘Let’s just say that the boss has a special way about him when we’re fighting,’ Clarence says.

‘No let’s not just say that, let’s just say nothing and get on with it.’

‘Cards on the table here,’ Maddox snaps, ‘we agreed, whether they’re coming for you or us…or whoever the fuck…they are coming and that means it’s all our fucking business.’

‘Good point,’ I concede.

‘I don’t care if you think it’s a good point or not, you are holding back on us…if you won’t speak in front of these people then they can fuck off and you can tell me straight,’ he flares up, his eyes fixed directly on me.

‘Hey,’ Paula protests.

‘The most important thing is that we tackle them and cut them down before they get here…we take as many weapons and as much ammunition as we can carry and destroy them,’ I lean in, emphasising my point, ‘so who fucking said what to who…whatever has fucking happened before now doesn't fucking matter…what matters is we kill them.’

‘Don’t fucking tell me what’s important to know, I am not a child,’ Maddox spits, ‘I lead my group and make the decisions for them…that means I want the information before I make the fucking decision.’

‘Wow you guys swear a lot, you need to calm down,’ Roy tuts, ‘have none of heard about blood pressure?’

‘Fucking what?’ Maddox glares across at him.

‘I heard enough of this,’ Lenski cuts through with her icy voice, ‘we go and kill them yes we do this…this must be done…Maddox you will go and help, I will stay here and run this fort while you are gone yes?’

‘Maddox could stay here, the fort will need a strong leader,’ I reply.

‘Mr Howie I am the strong leader,’ she cuts me down, ‘I am capable of this…Maddox he is hard like you and if you have so many then you need the hard people. I do not know fighting so I don’t do this…but I do what I know so I run this place…these people,’ she motions to Paula and Roy, ‘they kill many of the things…the woman she kill thousands so you take her and the man too…he kill many…you not go alone to this,’ she looks at me, ‘you take the people that know the fighting and together you kill them yes?’

Silence descends for a minute as we all stare at each other, Maddox eyeing me warily, Paula and Roy looking between us all.

Instinct tells me to open up and do as Maddox says by laying the cards on the table. Let everyone know what we’re dealing with and the risks involved. We don’t know Paula or Roy, shit we don’t know Maddox really. But we’re all that’s here and sometimes you just have to go with your gut. So I do and with a nod from Lani and another one from Clarence I spill the beans and tell them everything.

It takes time but something happens during that time. Something I become more aware off as I talk. Paula and Roy opened up and told us who they are and what they’ve done before coming here. How both of them stayed overnight in country locations before going back into their towns to slowly cull the undead.

Maddox too, he came here and had the strength to realise he needed greater security and that we could offer that.

By sharing, by opening up and telling them everything we know, about Darren and Marcy, about the pheromones and how we think they got inside the fort…then about Meredith and eventually about Lani, by doing that we create a feeling of closeness. Hardened people experienced at survival who haven’t just hid or run away but who fought back and clawed something for themselves.

As I finish I can feel the change in the air, the way they nod and listen. The intelligent questions they ask to clarify points and what’s more, despite having Meredith and Lani they also understand the need to take them out. That until that is done we will never be safe.

We could be running in the other direction with what we’ve got and hoping to find a doctor or scientist along the way, but then we’d always be running. They seem intent on destroying us. So we need to destroy them first.

When I finish talking they drop into silence, absorbed in their own thoughts for long seconds.  Paula takes a breath and leans forward, the first to break the silence.

‘On the way here we passed through another town, the coastal road goes through the town centre…that is a perfect ambush site.’

‘We both said it,’ Roy agrees.

‘Old town with big buildings on both sides, we could bottleneck them…slow them down and start reducing the numbers as we fall back.’

‘We’ve got the two heavy machine guns and enough assault rifles to go round,’ Clarence adds, ‘and if we get to the party early enough we could get the food and drinks ready.’

‘I not understand this,’ Lenski cuts in.

‘Sorry,’ Clarence says, ‘I meant we get there early and start getting traps set up.’

‘Oh…oh yes like the party with the food and the drink…yes I understand this now.’

‘Okay, we go for that town you said about…we set up and get ready…Maddox, how many can you bring?’

‘I can bring all of them but that leaves this place unprotected…We’ll leave Darius and Sierra here with Lenski and I’ll take twenty…’

‘Paula, Roy, are you both coming?’

‘Yes,’ Paula nods quickly, Roy does the same.

‘I make that er…twenty nine and a dog against what…tens of thousands…maybe more? Good odds.’

‘Fuck it, we’ll win,’ Clarence and Lani say at the same time, ‘besides…we got Dave,’ Lani adds.

‘True, Dave could stand there with a Swiss army knife and probably hold them back,’ I grin over at the poker faced man who just stares back without expression.

‘Swiss army knives have folding blades; can I use a different knife?’ He asks with a sudden glint in his eye.

‘We need to do this now…Lenski, are you okay here if we move out?’ I ask.

‘Yes,’ she answers bluntly.

‘Good, get ready then…we go as soon as possible.’

Twenty Six

‘This is Clarence in the Saxon, radio check to Paula and Roy.’

‘Er yeah hi.’

‘Hi Paula, are you receiving me loud and clear?’

‘Yep, er…loud and clear…I’ve always wanted to say that, do I say over and out too?’

‘Only if you want, we are receiving you loud and clear also.’

‘Roger roger affirmative over and out.’

‘Thanks Paula, Saxon to Maddox.’

‘Yeah loud and clear.’

‘Likewise Maddox, we are the lead vehicle in the Saxon, Paula and Roy in vehicle number two and Maddox you are the follow vehicle. If we get contact on route do not get out of the vehicles as we will be using the big machine gun on the top of our vehicle, copy?’

‘What does copy mean?’

‘It means do you understand Paula.’

‘Oh…er…copy that roger and over and out.’

‘We heard you too Clarence.’

‘Cheers Maddox.’

‘What the fuck are we getting ourselves into?’ Clarence mutters as he lowers the radio.

‘A great big fucking scrap!’ Cookey yells excitedly, ‘we’re on the road…we’re on the road…and we’re gonna fuck some zombies up,’ he starts singing in a painfully bad tune.

‘You’re happy,’ Lani laughs.

‘I am,’ he laughs, ‘I am I am, you’re here and Meredith and Dave has got sharp knives and Clarence has been pumping his arms up and Mr Howie has got his big axe all shiny and sharp and Nick is on the GPMG and you got a big meat cleaver and Blowers is gay.’

‘Dick,’ Blowers laughs.

‘You like dick,’ Cookey responds quickly.

‘Oh no,’ Lani groans, ‘not this again…I should have stayed a zombie.’

‘Nah,’ Cookey says, ‘you missed us…didn’t you Lani…didn’t you Lani…Lani…didn’t you Lani…Lani…’

‘Yes! Alright…I missed you.’

‘Ha, she missed us like Blowers misses cock.’

‘Fucking hell,’ Clarence mumbles, ‘is it too late to stay here?’

‘Afraid so,’ I laugh, not even out of the flatlands yet and already Cookey is supercharged up.

‘We’re gonna drive at them and like tell them we got Lani and she’s fucking immune so you can all fuck off…and our dog is immune…and Dave has big knives and Clarence will throw cars at you and Mr Howie will do that thing that Mr Howie does when he goes all quiet and they shit themselves and if all that fails we’ll send Blowers out with a tub of KY jelly and a big bumper box of condoms so he can bum them to death.’

‘Or we could just give you more red bull so you can bore them senseless so they bleed to death from their ears screaming in agony make him stop…please make him stop,’ Blowers says.

‘That’s what they say to you when you’re bumming them, please make him stop…my bum hurts…’

‘You have got to stop making gay jokes,’ I laugh back, ‘how do you know one of us isn’t gay and getting offended or hurt?’

‘But one of us is,’ Cookey laughs.

‘Yeah you,’ Nick shouts down.

‘Not me…ask April…she knows I’m all man, well she did until Dave cut her…’

‘I didn’t cut her head off,’ Dave says flatly.

‘Mr Howie isn’t coz he fancies Lani, Lani isn’t cos she fancies Mr Howie, Clarence isn’t… so that leaves Nick and Blowers.’

‘Or me,’ Dave says.

‘Or I could be bisexual,’ Lani adds.

Silence for a few seconds, ‘I’m not. So stop dreaming you perverts,’ she sighs.

‘Moving on,’ I say after a few more seconds of pointed silence, ‘Dave, what do we need to set some big ass traps?’

‘Depends.’

‘On what?’

‘On what traps you want? Sharp, deadly, explosive, to cause injury or death or mutilation.’

‘Sharp wouldn’t do it, would it?’ I ask, ‘tens of thousands so we can’t just throw sharp sticks at them.’

‘Explosives and fire are best options.’

‘Should we have brought the fuel tanker then?’

‘That’s a good idea,’ Clarence exclaims.

Twenty Seven

‘Clarence to Mr Howie, radio check?’

‘Howie to Clarence, loud and clear.’

‘Clarence to Paula and Roy, radio check?’

‘Roger roger rubber ducky affirmative over and out.’

‘Thanks Paula…Clarence to Maddox?’

‘Loud and clear…again.’

‘Yeah sorry, we forgot the tanker.’

‘How can you forget a fuel tanker?’

‘Thanks Paula, busy day…Saxon is lead vehicle, Paula and Roy are second, tanker is third and Maddox you are in the follow, Clarence out…oh and Nick…if we get contact don’t for fucks sake, shoot at the tanker.’

‘I won’t.’

‘Actually, get Dave on the GPMG.’

‘He’s worse at blowing things up, look what happened at the refinery.’

‘Good point Mr Howie…no one on the GPMG then…just run them over.’

‘Roger that.’

‘We’re on the road…we’re on the road…and we’re gonna fuck some zombies up…’

‘No Cookey, not again,’ Lani groans.

‘You missed us didn’t you Lani…didn’t you Lani…Lani…didn’t you Lani…Lani…’

‘Go up the front, go and sit up the front with the boss,’ she urges.

‘No,’ I shout back, ‘Dave’s here and we’re having a serious discussion.’

‘Are we?’ He asks.

‘We are.’

‘Ah, I feel unloved, unwanted…uncared for…’

‘We all love you Cookey,’ Lani laughs.

‘I don’t,’ Blowers adds.

‘You do but not in the right way,’ Cookey says suspiciously.

‘I love you Cookey,’ Nick shouts down.

‘Thanks Nick,’ Cookey shouts back.

‘Me too Cookey,’ I call out.

‘Thanks boss…April loved me…until Dave cut…’

‘I didn’t…and if you say it again you’ll be making the brews for the next month.’

‘He’s already making them for the next month isn’t he?’ Lani asks.

‘Then the month after that too…all the months,’ Dave says, ‘Alex…’

‘Yes Dave?’

‘Quiet time now Alex.’

‘Yes Dave.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Ha you got Dave’d,’ Blowers laughs.

‘Dave’d?’ Lani asks with a giggle.

‘Dave said quiet time,’ Cookey says seriously.

‘Yeah for you not the rest of us,’ Blowers replies.

‘That’s fine, I shall sit here quietly and dream of my one true love.’

‘She was a zombie,’ Lani says with pained patience.

‘But my zombie,’ he sighs theatrically, ‘does this mean you can’t snog Mr Howie again?’

‘Cookey!’ Blowers snorts.

‘Alex!’ Dave turns quickly as Lani bursts out laughing.

‘How do you know we sno…kissed anyway?’ I shout.

‘At the medical tent before we got the dog…we all knew,’ Cookey replies.

‘Oh…right…’

‘No secrets here,’ Lani states.

‘So?’ Cookey prompts.

‘Alex!’ Dave adopts his warning tone.

‘Sorry Dave, I was just asking.’

‘Mr Howie kissing Lani is none of our concern,’ Dave says primly.

‘Sorry Dave.’

‘If they choose to kiss then I am sure they will take the appropriate precautions,’ Dave continues.

‘Eh?’ Nick shouts down, ‘what like putting condoms on their tongues?’

‘Nick!’ Dave warns.

‘Can we try that?’ I laugh.

‘You’ll be bloody lucky,’ Lani says.

‘You can get flavoured ones,’ Cookey suggests.

‘How do you know?’ Blowers asks.

‘I’ve seen them.’

‘You ever used one?’

‘What a flavoured condom? Not really but there was this one time when…’

‘Alex,’ Dave says again.

‘Sorry Dave.’

I zone out to the background chat with a growing sense of déjà vu. How many times have we been here now? Driving in this hot tin can racing to put our lives in danger and face an enemy of overwhelming numbers.

And it is hot. Hotter than I have ever known it. The words sticky and close don’t come into it. Drinking water constantly trying to stay hydrated and my forehead is already tender from constantly wiping the sweat away. Clothes clinging to my body, my feet are baking in the heavy boots and every breath I take is like standing in front of an oven with the door open.

We did agree we wouldn’t take anyone else into our team, but the justification is that they’re not really in our team. They’re just going with us to do something that has to be done.

Thoughts about Lani race through my mind, how great it is to have her with us, with me. Like a comfort blanket. Just having her close gives me a sense of security. It’s stupid but something about her makes me feel safe, the way she said none of that would have happened last night if she had been there, and the way she has taken control today by stepping forward to organise and get things done.

A feeling like it’s fate that took us into that bowling alley that day and found her, that everything after that was pre-ordained and scheduled in a little black book somewhere. We had to fall, to suffer that closeness of death in order for Lani to find out she was immune. That’s the other thing, I believe more and more that she is immune. Like an instinct or something, maybe a tangible notion that has buried deep and is now flourishing, demanding to be paid attention. Not a trick. Not another plan or devious intention but that she is genuinely immune. I don’t know how I know this, but I know I’m not the only one that feels it.

Our group is close. The bond between us is immense now, we can read each other with a single glance and sense the mood, the feelings, the needs wants and desires of each other.

But then if Lani really is immune, then what the hell are we doing taking her towards possibly the biggest army we’ve seen yet? Mind you, we’ve already tried telling her not to come, not that it did any good and with such limited numbers we do need every skilled fighter we’ve got.

I noticed that Maddox selected the older and bigger youths and I’m sure most of them were the crew chiefs. Clarence told me they were proficient with firing and re-loading the assault rifles and already had a thorough understanding about not pointing the weapons at each other.

Paula already had a police issue single shot machine gun but Dave said it was small calibre pistol size ammunition so she and Roy were both given assault rifles and magazines too.

‘The town I was thinking of is just up ahead,’ Paula speaks through the radio,

‘Okay, we’ll keep going for now until we find the front so we know what time and distance we’ve got…everyone pay attention to the town in case we come back to use it.’

Pushing the radio away I watch ahead as we get into residential roads with big expensive houses on both sides. The road sweeps downhill to a long gentle bend and filters naturally into the High Street with a big dirty multi-level car park marking the transition from residential to town. A huge grey monstrosity built in the seventies with exhaust fume stained walls and one of those twisty access roads that loops round and round, with a ramp giving entry to each level and an open top floor.

The road goes straight through the middle of the town, with huge sprawling hotel buildings on the seaward side and high Victorian shops with apartments above them on the other. Very few side street and the only way out of the main road is through the buildings.

Other than the contrasting shitty multi-level car park, the town looks affluent and well cared for with freshly painted shop fronts and chain brand stores. The usual bodies and debris litter the streets, smashed in windows and cars left abandoned but this would have been a nice place to live.

The main road through is long, a lot longer than I anticipated. After the last solid hotel there is just shore line down to the golden beach and the blue water lapping gently. The other side gives out to pitch and putt play area’s and open land with sculpted gardens.

It looks lovely and serene, almost perfect. I say almost perfect because the view is somewhat ruined by the horde sprawled across the road. A thick crowd just stood in the sun obviously waiting for their brethren to sweep through.

‘Nick,’ I shout up.

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

‘Clear a path please mate, get as many as possible but don’t shoot the bloody tanker.’

‘Will do.’

‘Saxon to the follow vehicles, we’ve got a large contact ahead…firing will commence shortly,’ Dave relays to the others as I bring the speed down to give Nick more time.

The firing does indeed commence and we watch as the horde gets ripped to pieces, and as soon as the first bodies start to fall they turn and charge with unabated fury. A seething mass of human forms charging across the sun baked road. Nick sweeps the fire across the front, mowing them down with easy strafes.

Bringing the Saxon to a stop we all watch through the windscreen as they continue to surge towards us, the heavy constant thudding sound right above our heads and small movements of Nick’s feet as he turns slowly left and right.

Fortunately I judged the distance about right, giving Nick enough time to slaughter them down before they reach us.  It’s done within minutes as the road becomes thick with mangled bodies lying ruined and destroyed.

‘Not exactly a clear path there Nick,’ Blowers shouts up as we start driving over the first bodies, the huge heavy wheels squashing them into the road.

‘They were running for fuck’s sake,’ Nick shouts down, ‘Dave can I smoke up here please?’

‘Yes Nick.’

‘Oh that’s not fair…’ Cookey starts to bleat.

‘Open the back doors and have one then,’ I shout back.

‘Really?’ Blowers asks, ‘is that alright?’

‘It’s hot as hell in here mate, might get some air flow too.’

‘Nick,’ Lani shouts up, ‘have you put sun cream on, you’ll burn in this heat.’

‘I put that factor fifty on you gave me.’

‘How long ago?’

‘Er…few hours I think.’

‘Put some more on then, it burns off.’ He drops down as Lani fishes a bottle out of her bag and tells him to sit down so she can rub it into his face and ears.

‘Aw is iccle Nick getting his creamy put on,’ Cookey jokes.

‘I am,’ Nick laughs.

‘Don’t take the piss you two are next.’

‘Ah no I don’t want any,’ Cookey groans.

‘Stop being a child and sit down for a minute.’

‘Yes Lani.’

Twenty Eight

‘What the hell are they doing?’ Paula leans forward, closer to the windscreen to watch the back of the Saxon.

‘Er, that young lady is putting sun cream on the boys by the looks of it, very sensible,’ Roy replies.

‘Look at the bodies Roy. It only took them a couple of minutes with one gun…will the van go over them?’

‘If I follow their vehicle it should be okay. They’re laughing and joking, look at that cheeky one waving at us.’

‘Yeah,’ Paula waves her hand briefly, ‘strange people.’

‘Stranger than us?’ He asks with a snort of laughter.

‘Well, maybe not,’ she replies. Us. What made him say that? But she sensed the way everyone else in that room responded to them, like a given that they were a unit of their own. Howie’s team, Maddox and his team then Paula and Roy. Even when they said how they just met a few hours ago they still assumed that they were one unit.

The strange thing was that Paula didn’t mind that assumption. There was something nice about being seen as a team. Roy, with his amazing ability with the bow and her ability to plan, prepare and use the ground to cut them down, it was nice and what’s more it gave them strength against the larger already established teams.

Paula had watched the people as they spoke during the meeting, how they interacted with each other. Strong men and strong women, all of them with a voice that was both listened to and respected.

Lenski and Lani, despite both being young and extremely attractive women were treated with the same regard as the men, and when Lenski stepped in to end the argument between Maddox and Howie she was deferred to as she obviously knew what she was doing.

What was more amazing was that she even said she wasn’t a fighter but she was a strong leader and didn’t hesitate to show her confidence at staying to run the fort.

A young Polish female immigrant running one of the last bastions of human society and not one of them balked, blanched, rolled their eyes or made any negative comments.

Howie and Maddox were true leaders, both possessing that intensity that made them easy to watch and although they were young, she found herself hanging of what they said. The electric charge that rippled through the room as they started arguing was tangible to say the least. Maddox was strong and proud, clearly very intelligent too but Howie was the one to watch. He possessed a power that oozed out of his very soul. Quiet and unassuming, polite and joking around and similar to Roy with his polite countenance, but when he flashed that dark look it made everyone sit up and take notice. That, right there was why he was the natural leader.

The incident with Clarke had left a deep distrust for other people, that all men would eventually try and do what he did. If it wasn’t offered it would be taken. Without the protection of laws and consequences men would just revert to the Neanderthal pricks they really were. So she had shunned any company other than her own. Roy was different as he was so pre-occupied with his own concerns she doubts he had even contemplated anything of a sexual nature.

The three young lads with Howie had given her a quick appraisal with eyes running over her body but again they didn’t linger on her chest or show anything other than youthful charm and respect.

It was those reasons and many, many more that compelled Paula to work with them, that and the prospect of getting an absurdly high number of kills too.

Roy watched the back of the Saxon and the road, carefully negotiating the van to steer over the squashed bodies to avoid getting the wheels stuck.

Howie and Maddox seemed nice, intense but very polite. The young lads were cheeky but funny, despite the way one of them had told him to shut the fuck up. But then Roy was used to that, he knew there was something about him that sometimes annoyed other people, and he also knew when his mouth was getting him into trouble but the connection between the voice in his brain yelling at him to shut up, and the words still coming out of his mouth was broken somewhere.

Oh well. The sooner they get this done the sooner they get on and find some doctors. Probing his gums with his tongue and they felt irritated and swollen. Must be something bad. Had to be something bad.

Health anxiety held his focus, not the coming fight or the tens of thousands of zombies marching at them, not Howie or Maddox, not that giant of a man with the bald head or the small one with the eyes of a killer.

Just his mouth. That’s what worried him.

Maddox gripped the wheel, staring at the symbols on the back of the fuel tanker, the letters and numbers that were used for the hazardous chemicals recognition.

His team of twenty had been carefully selected, and Howie was right. Most of the crew chiefs had been taken aside and told to choose a number two that would step up as they were all being taken for a mission.

The details were outlined and explained, how a huge army was coming at them and they were going with Howie ‘s team and two others to cut them down. It was also made clear that none of them were ordered to come, that he wanted volunteers only. Every single one of them stepped forward and together they picked out a few more of the older reliable youths.

They were shown how to use the assault rifles and then each given their own gun with spare magazines which they each held proudly.

Leaving Lenski was hard, and convincing Darius he had to stay behind was even harder. The other youth refusing to listen and demanding to be taken with them. Eventually he reluctantly backed down and agreed to stay behind and get everyone safely inside.

When he thought about it rationally, it seemed completely stupid that they were doing this. Why risk himself and his own people for someone else’s fight. But he also knew those tens of thousands wouldn’t just stop at the fort, they would have reached the compound and wiped them out too. If they wanted to survive and have a life they had to deal with the threat.

And as much as he mistrusted anyone that wasn’t of his own kind from the same background as him, he knew, just knew that Howie was the one to lead them.

Twenty Nine

‘Paula to Howie.’

‘Yeah go ahead Paula.’

‘They can’t be that far in front of us now, there’s a junction up ahead if we take that we will go onto higher ground and should be able to look down on them.’

‘Howie to Paula, got it…yep we see the junction.’

‘How far from that town now?’ Dave asks.

‘Er…just coming up to twenty two miles mate,’ I reply.

‘Good, that gives us a few hours.’

‘You sure it’s four miles an hour?’ I ask again.

‘Definitely, average marching speed to allow the troops to be fresh enough to fight at the end.’

‘But these aren’t regular troops Dave, they’re fucking zombies.’

‘They are Mr Howie, but they’ve also learnt that they get weaker if they are pushed too hard and fast. If the infection has learnt anything it has learnt the balance between moving fast and retaining energy.’

‘You’re talking like it’s a thing mate, like a real er…well entity or something.’

‘I think it is.’

‘Really?’

‘Know your enemy, study them and see who are they, what are their strengths and weaknesses, what advantages can be leveraged.’

‘I get that mate but thinking of the infection as an entity with like a conscience or something…I dunno, just seems a bit too much.’

‘Not a conscience as that would suggest compassion in the human sense. Not a living entity like you or me but a super organism, like Ants or a beehive, a collective intelligence with a collective consciousness.’

‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘No offence Mr Howie, but I don’t have the restrictions of thought you have. Normal living and the experiences you have had do not apply to me. I kill without compassion or mercy, I do not suffer from moral guilt the way you do, so recognising what this enemy is isn’t that hard for me to understand and accept.’

‘Maybe.’

‘They have evolved.’

‘They have,’ I agree, ‘or changed might be another way of saying it.’

‘No, evolved,’ he says firmly, ‘they learnt to speak and alter the way they do things. The infection can control vast numbers of beings with perfect harmony, which is why Paula is saying they are marching in order. Armies have spent thousands of years learning to do that so the infection is simply taking what we know and using it to its advantage.’

‘If you’re right then they are getting smarter and stronger.’

‘Not they Mr Howie, it.’

‘So if it is getting smarter then we could be in for a bashing today.’

‘No.’

‘No? Why not? You just said it is getting smarter and stronger.’

‘You said that and even if it is getting smarter and stronger we still have the advantage.’

‘How? There’s what thirty of us against fuck knows how many of them? We probably don’t have enough ammunition…’

‘We can think individually, that’s the one thing it cannot do. By keeping a collective conscious and controlling every single one of them it does not allow them to operate as individuals. Soldiers need discipline and training, but the best armies are made up of soldiers that can think and react as they see fit…communist armies have great numbers but just do what they are told and are not allowed to think for themselves, which is great while the General is on the ground, but take him out and they cannot function.

‘They attack us with increasing violence and aggression, stronger with more rage but rage makes you unbalanced. Harnessed anger makes you deadly, but uncontrolled rage makes you an idiot. We use that against them. They work as one unit. We use that against them. Even if they split their forces and attack on multiple fronts we can still use their lack of reaction against them. They are predictable. We use that against them. They are many. We use that against them.

‘For every strength they have we manipulate and turn it into our advantage. Paula took a whole town out by using the single most powerful strategy ever possessed.’

‘Which is?’

‘Forward planning and preparation but with an ability to react fluidly.’

‘That’s more than one,’ I reply with a smile.

‘And an instinct to use overwhelming violence when appropriate.’

‘That’s definitely more than one.’

‘That Dave,’ I say after a few seconds of silence which suggests he has finished speaking, and noticing that the others in the back have all crept forward to listen intently, ‘is the most I have ever heard you say.’

‘Sorry, did I talk too much?’

‘Eh? Oh yeah…fuck me you were going on and on, none of us could get a word in edgeways. In fact, we’re always saying the biggest problem with Dave is how much he talks.’

‘Don’t listen to him Dave,’ Lani touches his shoulder affectionately which surprisingly, he doesn't flinch at or show any reaction at all. A few days ago and she could have been judo thrown through the windscreen for even contemplating touching him.

‘There,’ Nick points across me to my window and a fleeting glimpse in the distance. We’ve been steadily rising since turning off but the view has been hampered by wooded thickets, houses, farms and buildings. Climbing higher we get a sudden full view as the vista opens up. Sweeping pastures that slope gently down to the shore and the never ending deep blue sea that stretches off to the horizon.

The coastal road is there, a distinct black line that breaks the natural hues of greens and browns that roll down to the golden shore.

Pulling up we clamber out and shield our eyes against the glaring sun beating down on us. Paula and Roy join us first, then Clarence and finally Maddox and his team. All of us standing there in silence staring at the solid mass of figures marching along the road.

Solid, unbroken and never ending. The column stretches back further than the eye can see, disappearing from view as the contour of the land dips and turns through valleys and hills. Thousands upon thousands of figures and despite the distance they move with perfect timing. There is no rippling or undulation of so many people moving in one direction. Just an almost static thing that somehow moves forward without any apparent movement.

We all stare at the front and slowly rotate our heads to take in the miles of bodies filling the road.

‘More than the Isle of Wight,’ Nick remarks quietly.

‘Yep, more than Darren brought too by the looks of it,’ I reply equally as quiet.

‘Far more,’ Clarence adds, ‘many, many more.’

‘More than all the fights put together, including Salisbury,’ Dave adds.

‘I wish we had a fighter jet,’ Cookey sighs, ‘even a Spitfire going up and down that road would do the job.’

‘Where we gonna get a Spitfire from?’ Blowers asks.

‘Fuck knows, museum?’ Cookey replies.

‘Dave, can you fly a plane?’ Nick asks.

‘I don’t have a licence.’

‘Helicopter?’

‘No.’

‘Submarine?’ Cookey asks.

‘Alex.’

‘Sorry Dave.’

‘Even a warship in the sea would finish that lot off,’ Cookey sighs again.

‘Tanks too,’ Roy adds, ‘a few of them would do the job.’

‘Dave? Can you drive a…’

‘No Alex I cannot drive a tank.’

‘Er, there are two of us from the army,’ Clarence rumbles.

‘Sorry, can you drive a tank?’ Cookey looks up at him.

‘No, but that’s not the point.’

‘That’s a lot of zombies,’ I remark casually.

‘It is Mr Howie,’ Dave replies.

‘All coming for us.’

‘They are Mr Howie.’

‘Whole lot of dirty fucking zombies,’ I say slowly as Nick and Cookey start smiling.

‘It is Mr Howie.’

‘Many…many…dirty…nasty…filthy….zombies…’

‘Just say it,’ Lani sighs.

‘Fuck it,’ I laugh.

‘We’ll win!’ The rest of them shout in reply then snigger sheepishly as the others stare at us in horror.

‘You’ve clearly done this several times before then,’ Roy remarks with a smile.

‘Shit loads mate,’ I reply, ‘righto, well back to that town then and we best start getting set up…you know what I always say?’ I look at Maddox, his team and then across to Paula and Roy, ‘I always say that for every strength they have we can manipulate it and turn it to our advantage because we have the single most powerful strategy ever possessed…’

‘You didn’t bloody say that,’ Lani laughs, ‘Dave said it…don’t listen to him.’

‘Forward planning and preparation but with an ability to react fluidly and an instinct to use overwhelming violence when appropriate,’ I continue in a patronising know it all tone.

‘Well remembered,’ Dave nods, ‘but I said it first.’

‘He didn’t,’ I mutter to the others staring at us like we’re slightly freaky, ‘can anyone see the end of them yet? No? Shit…that is one big horde.’

‘Proper pre planning prevents piss poor performance,’ Paula mutters.

‘I agree,’ Dave responds quickly with intense seriousness.

‘Right,’ I look round at the small crowd, ‘we are a bunch of fucking misfits,’ I grin, ‘so let’s go get ready for a big fight, Paula, your expertise is needed here so have a think what you want to do between here and the town, we’ll follow your lead with input from Dave and…’ Clarence coughs, ‘…and Clarence…’ I add firmly with a glance up at him.

‘I’ve got some ideas but er…’ She hesitates, seemingly suddenly unsure.

‘What’s up?’

‘Well that’s a big army…maybe you guys should take the lead, you’ve er…well you’ve done this lots of times.’

‘So have you,’ Roy says quickly.

‘I have but…well,’ she looks uncomfortable, like caught on the spot.

‘Paula, what you said you did in your town we need to do for this lot…just bigger…and quicker…but then it isn’t just you this time, you’ve got almost thirty of us.’

‘And a dog,’ one of the youths quips with a cheeky grin.

‘And a Dave,’ Cookey adds, not allowing anyone else to make quips when he’s about.

‘What’s a Dave?’ The youth asks with a confused look.

‘I’m a Dave…I mean I’m Dave,’ Dave says.

They carry on chatting while I zone out staring at the never ending column. Too big and too many. Even if we blew that town apart there would still be a long queue of them coming out the end.

‘Dave,’ I say quietly.

‘I know,’ he replies just as quietly.

Turning to stare at him he first looks at them, then at me, ‘we got no choice.’

He nods, no expression, nothing said. Just acceptance.

Lani, stood next to me touches my hand with hers, I turn quickly to see her smiling and the feeling is a million times better than Marcy. It’s natural and real. A genuine touch from a genuine person that cares. She nods subtly with a glint in her eye.

In the corner of my eye I see Clarence shifting position, stood with legs planted and arms folded across his massive chest. Glancing over and he locks eyes for a second and quickly lifts both eyebrows, then the lads, all three of them with the same glint that Lani and Clarence have.

‘Change of plan,’ I announce to the group as a feeling like an electric current starts passing through my team. The tension rising with the prospect of battle. ‘There is only one way of hoping to get through this…there’s too many, simply too many. Even if we blew that town apart there would still be an endless queue of them coming out one side…so,’ I take a breath making sure they’re all listening, ‘Maddox, send someone back to the fort and get more of your crews and anyone who can fire a weapon, take everything from the armoury and get them to that town…’

‘Hang on,’ Paula waves a hand.

‘Sorry no,’ I cut her off, ‘this road will keep them funnelled until they hit that open land before the High Street, that is where they will spread out so get every available gun at the end of the High Street facing out onto that open land. We’ll attack the front now and start cutting them down, that reduces the numbers and buys you time,’ I look directly at Paula.

‘Me? Buys me time?’ She asks with a worried face.

‘To get the town rigged, we start now and keep going until we get to that open land…then I want every gun we’ve got firing into them…then on our signal they get out of there and we’ll lead them into the High Street…that road is enclosed with the hotels and high buildings so use that road to set the traps…’

‘You are fucking joking aren’t you,’ she spits with anger, ‘this is another joke isn’t it?’

‘Sorry, not this time,’ Lani says softly, ‘there’s too many Paula.’

‘Maddox, you up for this?’ I ask.

‘Yep,’ he says quickly, ‘I got over a hundred in my crews…I’ll leave twenty there and bring the rest, you do what you can and we’ll be ready for you.’

‘Good.’

‘No, not good…not good at all,’ Paula protests.

‘It is a good plan,’ Roy says with the same unflustered expression.

‘Do you know how to make explosive devices?’ Dave asks her.

‘Er…no…no I don’t.’

‘They’re easy, Maddox you listen in too and I’ll tell you what you need…nail bombs are the best for something like this, not just nails but anything small and metallic that will fragment out.’

‘Okay,’ Paula sighs, ‘this is really happening isn’t it?’

‘It is,’ I say firmly, ‘seeing them like this has brought the reality home…we’re several miles away from them and we can’t see the end of the column…there could be more joining them at every junction and side road.’

‘But there’s seven of you,’ she shakes her head in disbelief.

‘We got big guns,’ Nick says, ‘lots of big guns.’

‘We’ll hold them back as long as we can…’ I start to explain.

‘They’ll probably start charging when we go for them,’ Blowers says, ‘but that will weaken them for when we get to you…it gives you less time but makes them easier to kill.’

‘He’s right,’ Cookey adds seriously, ‘makes a hell of a difference when they’re fucked and knackered.’

‘Maddox, find a way to block off the side roads on that High Street…we want to keep them funnelled.’

‘Got it, leave it with me…like I said, you do what you gotta do here and we’ll be ready for you,’ he replies confidently and like Roy, he shows no sense of panic or worry.

Nodding at them I look from face to face then back down at the road and all the way along the black snake and still no end in sight.

‘We’ll go then,’ Maddox states, ‘see you there and Howie…’ I glance over at him, ‘we got this yeah?’

‘Yeah, yeah of course mate…’ And I know he has too, he’ll do whatever it takes to get it done.

They file away with Roy offering to drive the fuel tanker if Paula takes his van. Nick taps out some cigarettes and we light up, inhaling the acrid smoke that burns our throats and does nothing but perpetuate the myth that smoking helps anything other than feeding a habit. But we do it anyway.

‘Lani…please, will you go with…’

‘No!’

‘What’s that smell?’ Cookey sniffs the air, ‘urgh Meredith! Right by us too…bloody hell look at the size of it.’

‘Christ that stinks…has anyone got a poo bag?’ Nick asks putting his hand over his nose.

‘Fuck that,’ I gasp as Meredith turns round to sniff her own shit then look up at us with pride at the gift she left steaming on the grass.

‘Wish I could do that sometimes,’ Cookey sighs, ‘wouldn’t half make life easier wouldn’t it.’

‘Come on, let’s go pick a fight with some zombies,’ we stroll back to the Saxon, clambering in an I relent to the requests and flick the air conditioning on for a few minutes.

Might as well be cool on our way to try and stem the flow of the undead army coming to wipe us off the face of the earth.

Thirty

Paula looks between her open notepad on the seat and the tanker in front of her. Following Roy back towards the town and the initial trepidation has already abated. Yes this was different as there were people relying on her and Howie was putting himself into the firing line to buy them time and reduce the numbers.

Dave gave her a quick set of instructions, what ingredients to use and how to make basic nail bombs. Then running through the set up methods. It was far simpler than she could ever imagine. Highly destructive explosive devices made from basic household ingredients. The smoke bombs were interesting, potassium nitrate, powdered sugar and paraffin wax. That was it. No wonder the high school kids found them so easy to make. She floundered when Dave first said potassium nitrate and had a fleeting image of banana’s until he said it’s one of the main ingredients in tree stump remover, which is also readily available in the DIY store.

The bigger the better Dave said, and as many as possible too. Then how to get a set of wires stretching between them and then running down the street to a waiting car battery, red to positive black to negative then duck.

As the short drive goes on she starts to herself rising to the challenge. That all the previous work had been in preparation for this main event. A whole town just waiting for her to play with.

No time for lists or a written plan. This was head time, plan in the mind and execute with the body.

Getting towards the town she started to pay extra attention to the layout of the road. Howie was right, they were funnelled by a high sea wall on the shore side and high thick bramble hedgerows on the other.

Just before the town she slowed down to take in the sudden expanse of open land, again noting how Howie was right. Driving from this direction it would be natural for the horde to spill out and spread. Not if they were still marching but under attack they would take advantage of the space to try for flanking manoeuvres.

The open land stretched over to the junction of a service road that looped round the back of the stores. That needed to be blocked off and something done to prevent them going that direction. They had to be funnelled through the town.

With the vehicles stopped they meet up at the start of the High Street, Maddox shouting to two youths as they sprint off.

‘Where are they going?’ Paula asks.

‘Get a vehicle and get to the fort like Howie said.’

‘Why don’t they take your vehicle?’

‘Cos we’ll need it, they can jack a car within a couple of minutes…watch,’ Maddox grins as the two run over to an old Ford, smashing the driver’s window with the butt of a rifle, unlocking the doors, climbing in and ducking down to do something to the cowling under the steering wheel. Within a few seconds the engine sputters and fires up, both of them giving Maddox a quick thumbs up as they drive away.

‘Wow,’ Paula nods genuinely impressed, ‘you have got to teach me how to do that.’

‘My crew have good skills,’ Maddox laughs, ‘but they were a bit slow, sorry about that,’ he adds for effect. ‘We gotta block that junction off…how about we get a load of vehicles jammed in nose to tail, maybe stick some of them bombs in there?’

‘Good idea,’ Paula flashes him a grin, ‘high vehicles though, cars won’t do it…we need trucks or vans…can your er…crews is it?’

‘Yeah that’s what we call them.’

‘Can they all drive?’

‘You shitting me?’ Maddox asks, ‘most of them are banned before they old enough to drive for stealing cars…yeah they can drive.’

‘Is it okay to leave some here to start getting that done while we go for the DIY store?’

‘Whatever you want,’ Maddox splays his hands, ‘you tell me what you want and I’ll get it done.’

‘Thanks,’ Paula stares at the intense young man, impressed by his deep intelligence, ‘okay then…get as many high sided vehicles into that junction as possible…really jammed in as close as possible to block it off…er…can you get them to get the fuel caps opened up too.’

‘Listen in,’ Maddox turns to call out at his group of waiting youths, ‘Mohammed, you take ten and find as many big vans and trucks….get that junction blocked off and get the fuel caps jammed open, you get me?’

‘Yep,’ the serious Mohammed nods quickly then points to select the youths before walking off towards the junction.

Turning back Maddox stares expectantly at Paula, waiting for the next instruction.

‘Right,’ Paula says slowly, surprised at the instant response the youths gave, ‘er…the rest of us will head to the DIY store then.’

‘Do we need to?’ Maddox asks, ‘tell us what you need and we’ll do it, you stay here with Roy and…’

‘No,’ interjecting she asserts herself quickly.

‘All yours,’ Maddox splays his hands again, ‘shit…MO MO,’ Maddox booms a warning as an undead staggers into view from the town running towards the walking youths. A twang next to them and the thing is taken clean off its feet from the arrow driving through its head.

Roy lowers the bow and glances round checking for others. The amiable look on his face is gone, replaced with an expression of complete focus and that same hard stare shared by all of them.

The group turn to stare at the undead on the ground with an arrow stuck in its head, then spin round to stare at Roy. Silence for a few seconds as everyone takes in what just happened. No hesitation, no apparent aiming. He just grabbed an arrow and fired at well over one hundred metres distance and at a running target.

Area scanned and Roy looks first at Maddox, then at Paula, the amiable look back on his face, ‘sorry…you were saying?’

‘How?’ Maddox says slowly…’just…how?’

‘Years Maddox…years and years,’ Roy smiles.

‘SWEET BLOOD, FUCKING SWEET!’ One of the youths bellows from across the way before resuming their walk towards the junction.

‘Oh and can you find me some fire engines too?’ Paula asks suddenly.

Maddox raises an eyebrow for a second, ‘fire engines?’ he tilts his head back, ‘leave it with me.’

‘Fire engines?’ Roy asks as they walk back to the van.

‘Uh huh, something I’ve been wanting to try for ages, come on…we got to hurry up oh and Roy.’

‘Yeah?’

‘That was a good shot, well done.’

‘Thanks,’ he smiles.

Thirty One

I pull over at the side of the road, which earns a quick searching look from Dave as we’re still miles from the front of the horde. Having worked our way back down the hill I made sure to drive well away from the undead before getting onto the coastal road.

The grass verge we’re on is heavily layered with sand, giving it that exotic almost desert like appearance, and just metres away from the inviting blue waters of the sea too.

‘What’s up?’ Clarence shouts from the back.

‘Remember that swim I promised?’

‘Fuck yes!’ Cookey shouts, ‘we going now?’

‘Oh nice one boss,’ Nick exclaims, ‘have we got time?’

‘Not long, but yeah we got time for a dip…’

‘I’ll stay here and keep watch,’ Dave says as the rest in the back burst into cheers.

‘Sure mate? Come and have a swim?’

‘I don’t like the water,’ he says flatly.

‘Up to you mate,’ I pop the door open and drop down into the blistering heat and the sun glaring from the sand.

Stripping off we dump our clothes at the front of the vehicle and carrying our rifles we start walking towards the sea, within seconds we’re hopping in pain from the hot sand burning our feet.

‘Lani? You coming?’ I shout back realising she’s not with us.

‘I’m getting changed,’ she yells from the Saxon as Meredith sprints past us, ears flattened low as she powers towards the water, bounding in with a big splash and a bark.

We start jogging, desperate to keep our feet off the burning sand, rifles get ditched a few feet back and we run in. All of us laughing as we wade into the shallow warm water, then further out until we can dive in an let the water soak our parched skin.

The feeling is amazing. The water is warm but distinctly cooler than the super-heated air. I swim out and dive down, using my arms to propel me to the bottom. All other noise is gone, just the underwater sounds of my movement. Opening my eyes and I see a blurry image of the sea bed and just for a second, none of the badness up there exists.

A flash of silver catches my eye as a fish darts away, the sun glinting from the broad side and the strong tail. It hits me that already within the thirteen days of this event, the fish stocks must be recovering already. Cod and white fish harvested and hunted to near extinction so many times and suddenly it’s stopped. Whales, sharks…every living creature in the ocean will benefit from our species being culled.

Eventually I break the surface and spin round, spurting the salty water from my mouth and staring back to the shore. What I see surprises me. I was expecting to see the lads going mad at having a few minutes to play, instead we’re all doing the same thing. Swimming off for a bit of space to tread water quietly. Blowers dives back down and disappears for a short time before re-surfacing a short distance away. Clarence floats on his back with his arms and legs outstretched and his toes sticking up from the water.

Lani walks sedately from the Saxon to the sea, looking amazing in her black bikini she must have kept from our last swim on the Island. Then the heat of the sand hits her feet and she starts hopping, the muttered curses floating over the near silence of the sea.

She does what we did, ditches the rifle and runs the last few feet to plunge into the water and just as she dives forward I catch a glimpse of the wound on her stomach. A quick reminder of the reality we face.

Dave stands on the Saxon with the sniper rifle, constantly turning as he scans the ground. I sink back and folding my body I let myself sink gently beneath the water, keeping my eyes open to look back up at the rippling sky.

Bliss. Pure silent bliss, encapsulating and almost womb-like. Holding my breath until I feel the urge starting to push in my chest, it gets stronger and stronger as my body uses the available oxygen.

If I took a deep breath now it could all be over. No more suffering. No more pain. No humiliation. No more anything.

The loss of everything hits me suddenly and for a second I cannot bear the pain of losing Sarah and the others. That inner part of me, kept locked and barred bursts open for a second, letting me know of what pain I have still yet to deal with.

Kicking up I break the surface again and draw a big breath, the sea water covering the tears streaming down my face. Snot purging from my nose gets wiped away and I swim away, further out to sea just so they don’t see my crying face. Stifling the sobs I try to bite the pain back down, feeling an intense rush of guilt for being here now, enjoying this feeling when my sister will never feel anything again. None of them will. Dead and rotting in those massive piles of bodies stacked up on the estate.

Glancing round and again I realise I’m not the only one feeling this as we’re all spread out and facing away from the beach. Even Lani has found a quiet spot and treads water gently. Meredith swims like a shark, a long black object that glides with her chin held up away from the water.

She goes round in circles, seemingly just enjoying the feeling of being suspended, then breaking her pattern she heads towards Nick.

He seems to snap out of whatever dream he is in as she glides by and I see him wiping his eyes then plunging his head under water. When he comes back up he laughs and swims after Meredith. She glances round and swims away with him chasing after her.

Almost as though sensing she is drawing him out to sea she changes direction and heads back towards shore, letting Nick catch up with her. He takes hold of her back end and just gently kicks. Her incredible strength pulling them both through the water.

Cookey spots it and, as with Nick, I catch him wiping his eyes and dunking his face before kicking out to swim after them and once again Meredith breaks the melancholy by drawing them into play.

Lani swims towards me with a graceful breast stroke, her face just barely out of the water as she glides through the millpond.

‘How’s your stomach?’

‘S’okay, hurts a bit…skin starting to itch now.’

‘That’s good, it’s healing.’ I watch as she swims closer then eases off to tread water a few feet away.

‘This is nice,’ she says softly, ‘good idea…they needed it.’

‘We all do.’

She stares at me for long seconds, her chin dropping and rising out of the water. Clear rivulets stream down her golden skin. She drops her head back to sweep her hair away and faces me with it swept back perfectly black and glistening.

Nothing like Marcy. She’s real and complex, difficult but strong. Maybe that bond between us isn’t ruined forever.

‘What you thinking?’ She asks.

‘About you.’

‘Me?’ She smiles, ‘why?’

‘Cos I want to,’ I smile back.

‘Not whether I’m infected or not then?’

‘Didn’t even think of it to be honest.’

‘You bloody did,’ she giggles, ‘you saw me in my bikini and got all fruity.’

‘Ah bugger off,’ I smile.

‘You going all Hugh Grant on me again Howie?’

‘I might.’

‘Bit late for that don’t you think.’

‘I’m not sure how to take that comment so I stay silent for a few seconds, ‘Lani, I am sorry…’

‘It’s done,’ she says quickly, ‘can’t take it back can we…so we move forward.’

‘Forward?’

‘Mr Howie,’ she laughs, ‘are you fishing to see if I still like you?’

‘Do you?’

‘Pack it in,’ she pushes out to send a wave of water splashing into my face.

‘Do you?’ I ask again with what I hope is a cheeky grin.

‘Not answering,’ she splashes me again but this time I’m ready and dive down out of the way, the water is so clear I can see her body seemingly suspended as she makes tiny movements with her arms and legs to stay afloat. Using my arms I dive down under her body and watch she twists round trying to track my movements. Reaching out I brush my fingers against her foot which causes her to yelp out in half panic.

As I start to surface I go close against her body and see the stomach wound just inches in front of my eyes. The skin looks red and sore but so much more healed than it should be. Gently I reach out and touch it, she twitches but then stays still as I run my fingers gently over the damaged skin. Her hand drops to mine, holding it gently as I feel along the puckered skin.

‘Looks awful doesn't it, will leave a nasty scar,’ she comments as I surface just inches away.

‘No,’ I shake my head gently, ‘it doesn't…so?’

She laughs with delight, ‘so what? You still asking that?’

‘Yep.’

‘Why is it important to know that? It’s not like we can do anything is it?’

Shrugging and glance quickly to the shore, watching the horseplay now fully underway with Meredith running back and forth, Dave stood like a sentinel in the distance, ‘I still like you,’ I say quietly.

‘Do you now?’ She asks with a small smile.

‘Yep, very much.’

‘Oh very much is it?’

‘Very very much.’

‘More than Marcy?’

‘Ouch Lani…’

‘I’m serious,’ she stares at me, reading my face.

‘Marcy was…not real,’ I shake my head, ‘I still don’t know how that happened…but…’

‘But what?’

‘You’re real,’ I smile again.

‘More real than that bitch,’ she growls, ‘yes Howie,’ she adds with a roll of her eyes, ‘I still like you very much.’

‘How much?’ I ask quickly.

‘Stop it,’ she laughs, a beautiful sound that sends my heart soaring.

‘How much?’ I urge splashing her lightly.

‘Enough to think you were mine,’ a flash of seriousness.

‘Yours?’

‘Mine,’ she repeats.

‘I like that.’

‘Do you?’ She asks with genuine surprise.

‘Yeah…I do…I wish I could kiss you.’

‘Howie, what’s got into you…where’s the shy blushing boy gone?’

‘He’s still here…but losing you make me realise…er…well you know…’

‘The shy boy comes back,’ she giggles, ‘but we can’t kiss…not until we know…’

‘And when we know for sure…that you’re immune I mean?’

‘Then we can kiss all we like,’ she says softly.

‘If today goes bad Lani…’

‘Don’t,’ she cuts me off with a warning tone.

‘Listen,’ I laugh, ‘if it goes badly then I will be grabbing you for a big smooch…just as they’re coming to chomp our noses off…’

‘Smooch?’ She laughs again, ‘you gonna smooch me?’

‘Yeah, a big old fashioned smooching session with one finger stuck up at the zombies like this,’ I emulate a wet kiss while showing the finger. She bursts out laughing so loud it makes everyone turn to look.

‘I thought we’d go down fighting.’

‘Fighting and kissing, we can wave our axes about as we snog.’

‘I don’t use an axe…’

‘Okay picky pants…wave our axes and meat cleavers about then.’

‘What about the one finger? How we gonna do that if we’re kissing and trying to fight.’

‘Uh? Good point…sounds complicated…let’s just stick to the kissing instead then.’

‘Okay,’ she carries on laughing, ‘I like this side of you.’

‘I like all the sides of you,’ I grin wolfishly which makes her splash water in my face.

‘Cheesy…but,’ her tone switches to serious, ‘what if I am infected? What then?’

‘Find a cure,’ I reply instantly, ‘I won’t lose you Lani…we won’t lose you…we’ve lost too many already and it won’t happen.’

‘And if there is no cure?’

‘There will be,’ I say firmly, ‘you are living proof of that…you might be the cure, something is different with you so that proves it isn’t as final as…’

‘What if it takes a year to find a cure?’

‘Then I’ll wait a year.’

‘Ten years?’

‘I’ll wait ten years.’

‘Twenty years?’

‘Nah, that’s too long…you can sod off…oi that went in my mouth,’ I spit the salt water out.

‘You’ll wait all that time to kiss me? Why?’

‘Because I kissed you once already and I remember it…so it doesn't matter how long it takes or what I have to do.’

‘That was a nice kiss,’ she smiles, remembering the stolen few minutes we shared.

‘Yeah it was alright…argh,’ I hold my breath as she dunks me under, then I pull her down and we start playing, swimming after each other, splashing about as we get closer to the lads and join in with messing about.

But all good things must come to an end and enough time passes for us to be walking out to drip water onto the sand as we gather our rifles and stroll back to the Saxon, getting halfway before we all start hopping and jogging from the hot sand.

Getting dressed the banter is light and easy, all of us smiling and joking as Meredith runs back and forth shaking her coat again and again. Dave drops down to pour water into a bowl which she laps greedily while water drips from her coat to soak instantly into the ground. We drink warm Lucozade and smoke, taking our time as though we can dictate the event that lies ahead of us. Fooling ourselves that we somehow control this environment and choose to do as we please.

Inevitability awaits us. There will much death but no worse than we’ve seen before and I know one more thing. Once we’ve killed this lot we’ll find the next group and kill them too, and the rest and we won’t stop until either we find a cure or the last one falls.

Whichever comes sooner.

Thirty Two

‘Is that it?’ Roy asks staring down at the supplies stacked on the floor.

‘Er,’ Paula consults her notebook, again checking the stacked items against the list compiled with Dave, ‘yeah,’ she nods looking up at him, ‘that’s it.’

‘Shit,’ Maddox exclaims, ‘you can make bombs from that?’

‘Apparently,’ Paula replies, ‘we got Hydrogen Peroxide…I can’t believe how easy that was to find…er…nails and screws for the fragments, then we have…’

‘Yeah I can see it,’ Maddox cuts her off, ‘what’s next?’

‘Those plastic tubs,’ she points to the empty thirty litre plastic buckets piled up to one side, ‘will be the casing…we get some cardboard or something and fold it round to create an outer ring in the tubs, then we stack the outer ring with the fragments and the explosive stuff goes in the middle. Then we get the wiring,’ she points to the drum holding the looped electrical cable, ‘and run it back from tub to tub all the way back to a car battery…when we connect the wires to the battery it goes bang…I hope.’

‘How many tubs we got?’ Maddox counts them off quickly, ‘there’s thirty here, we gonna use all of them?’

‘Just keep going until we run out of stuff I guess,’ Paula shrugs, ‘did you get the razor wire?’

‘Yeah they’re loading it now, you want a hand mixing all this stuff? We doin’ it here or what?’

‘Dave said the mixture is safe to be carried and won’t go off unless an electrical charge is applied or intense heat,’ Paula says, biting her bottom lip as she once more flicks through her notebook.

They set to work, mixing household chemicals in the order and amounts as explained by Dave. Each tub has the centre ring pushed in and then the nails and screws stacked in between the inner layer and the casing of the tub.

Maddox watches with interest as Paula makes the first one, stepping back within a few minutes to stare down at the innocuous looking filled bucket.

On reaching twenty of the improvised explosive devices they realise the buckets will run out long before the rest of the materials, so youths are dispatched into the aisles of the DIY store to source more tubs, buckets and anything that can hold nails and chemicals.

Bomb after bomb is made and set aside and with each one Paula is astounded at the ease of the process. Although the ingredients are very specific and the staff would be trained to be alert to anyone purchasing large amounts of them, it is still shocking just how simple it is.

They keep going, stacking the bombs near the ruined front doors and getting the youths to carry them out to the waiting vehicles. Coils of Razor wire already in the vans along with rope and as many bottles of flammable white spirit and paint thinner as they can find.

While Howie and Lani talk quietly in the cooling sea, Paula, Roy, Maddox and his crews sweat with the exertion of mixing, carrying, loading and running back for the next load. When the first vehicle is filled to the brim, Maddox orders two of his crew to take it to the town to leave with Mohammed then bring more vehicles back.

They do as told and by the time they return the store is exhausted of bomb making supplies, with every nail, screw and tub in the place now turned into deadly bombs.

Driving back to the town after a back breaking session of carrying them all out into the blistering sun, Paula drinks quickly from a bottle of water and mops the sweat from her forehead. Roy drives in silence, unfazed by the whole situation and worrying at a new sore spot he thinks he can detect on the inside of his gum.

Reaching the town centre they drive down the High Street, Roy leading the other vehicles driven by Maddox and his youths. A large crowd waits for them at the junction with the side road, a crowd made up of youths armed with assault rifles, shotguns and farm rifles. Knives hanging from belts, bats with nails sticking out the end and all manner of inventive weapons. The youths jostle and joke, excited at the prospect of fighting as they wait for Maddox to give them instructions.

As they draw closer and the view of the junction opens up, Paula notices the vehicles jammed in tight, far more than she would have imagined and more arriving by the minute. Mohammed stood on the top of a big van waving his arms to direct the waiting vans and lorries into place.

‘Bloody hell,’ Roy mutters at the sight of the two shiny red fire engines parked off to one side.

‘How the hell did you get this done so quickly?’ Paula shouts to Maddox.

‘We don’t mess about,’ Maddox replies without looking, ‘Mo Mo,’ he shouts over the top of the group. The youth on top of the van turns to wave, ‘good job but I want double this amount and get ‘em stretched back past the junction.’

Mohammed gives a quick thumbs up before turning to shout more instructions. Maddox, turning to the fire engines asks who got them. Several kids step out from the crowd grinning proudly as Maddox tells them they’ve done a good job.

‘You done well so you get the reward,’ he grins as they watch him expectantly, ‘they’s need emptying so get them hoses working, you get me?’

A look of pure joy spreads over their faces as they turn to sprint towards the fire trucks, others running with them to have the fun of using the powerful hoses. The trucks are started up, spluttering to life noisily as the big diesel engines roar into the quiet air. The youths swarm as they pull the side flaps down to reveal the equipment and dials on show. The end of the hoses get yanked and dragged away towards the beach, the engines increase in pitch as they start to work the pumps talking in excited tones as the older kids work out how to activate the flow of water. The hose stiffens as the right buttons and levers are pressed, the children holding them shouting with delighted joy as they scrabble to release the water flow. When the first one bursts to life, spraying a long jet down onto the sands a dull cheer goes up, quickly followed by hoots of laughter as the two small lads holding the hose get thrown about by the strength of the water coming out. The girl operating the hose at the engine doesn't switch it off but lets the end twist and buck wildly as more kids run down to leap on the animated end, fighting to control it.

The second hose starts spraying, but these youths are braced and ready. Jeering at the first lot as they handle the hose with ease. The two long sprays arching high to spatter down onto the sand like two huge fountains.

Paula and Roy laugh at the sight, smiling broadly at the almost perfect view of children playing and having fun, their young voices shouting insults and jokes but they both notice the way they work together, a strong unit that belies their age and immaturity.

‘Where you want them?’ Maddox asks, referring to the fire engines, ‘you filling them with fuel yeah? I figured you would. One should go by the junction set back with the hose set to spray onto the open land…’

‘That’s what I was thinking…we just got to work out a way of igniting it from a distance.’

Stepping forward, Roy looks first at the engines and the spray coming from the hoses, then over at the junction, ‘fire arrow will do that, let the hoses spray first to soak the ground then I can fire from a distance once everyone has fallen back.’

‘Good,’ Maddox nods quickly, ‘Howie wants everyone here so we can open up when they spread out from the road…we gotta make everyone aware not to shoot the fire trucks.’

‘We go forward then,’ Paula remarks, ‘so we’re in front of them…then when we give the signal and start dropping back someone turns the hose on.’

‘Howie will be coming from that road,’ Maddox points to the coastal carriageway, ‘so we make a gap for him to get through then start dropping back in line with his vehicle…yeah then once we’re clear we get the hoses spraying juice then Roy ignites it.’

‘Hose not hoses,’ Paula corrects, ‘seeing as we got two we’ll use the next one up the road...’

‘We could put the second one on the beach,’ Roy cuts in, ‘the fire engine I mean…put it on the beach with the hose directing out towards the junction…ha! Will be a wall of fucking flames…’

Glancing again at the way the swear words just don’t suit him Paula considers the suggestion. The spray from the hoses is great enough to reach across the width of the road.

‘If we do that,’ Maddox speaks up, ‘we need to leave it until they get further in here otherwise they can just hold back till the flames burn out…but that means whoever is switching them on is isolated…how about,’ he thinks quickly, his expression focussed, ‘the first engine on the junction…the crew on that one run into the back road and round the behind the shops to the side road…the truck on the beach,’ he switches his gaze over, ‘the crew on that will have to run through the hotels, or down the beach and get back onto the road.’

‘Yes, yes I think that will work,’ Paula visualises the hoses spraying flames out and the youths scarpering to sprint away, ‘then can we get these doors opened up so some of your crews can get to the roofs of those buildings so they can fire down or drop fire bombs…’

‘Fire bombs?’ Maddox queries, ‘you mean Molotov cocktails?’

‘Yeah sorry,’ Paula grins, ‘get them all set up first with rags sticking out then just light the wicks and drop them down.’

‘Those bottles are plastic, they won’t break like glass,’ Roy adds.

‘They’ll still ignite or burst apart as the liquid explodes,’ Paula replies.

‘Jagger!’ Maddox shouts, watching as a youth breaks free, running towards him, ‘see if you can get on those roofs and find a way to work along and come back down further up the street…get the inside doors opened up so you got plenty of escape routes down yeah? We gonna shoot down from up there and drop cocktails.’

‘Yeah I got it Mads,’ the youth replies, ‘where you got the cocktails then?’

‘Bottles of white spirit,’ Maddox explains.

‘They’s shit, they ain’t as good as whiskey bottles or milk bottles…we tried ‘em before innit.’

‘Do they flame?’ Roy asks.

‘Yeah course,’ Jagger says, ‘but like the flames spread out and don’t explode like glass does when it smashes, swear down it still works but…’

‘S’all we got Jagger,’ Maddox cuts in.

Jagger shrugs and moves off, motioning his crew to follow him.

‘Next?’ Maddox asks.

‘We can’t put those bombs in the street,’ Roy says, ‘they’ll go off from the firing.’

‘Put them in the shop front then, break the glass windows,’ Paula suggests.

‘No,’ Maddox shakes his head, ‘those are big bombs, the glass spreading out will do as much damage as the nails and screws.’

‘Okay, so we got the junction here covered…we can put bombs into the cars too?’ Roy asks, ‘no need to have an ignition on them as the fire will set them off.’

‘We’ll do that, then we put some bombs into the windows of the first section of the main road between here and the side street…that’s where we’ll have the first car battery and ignition point.

‘Brilliant,’ Paula smiles, ‘let’s get the first section done.’

‘Darius, what the fuck you doing here? I said you gotta stay at the fort,’ Maddox shouts at seeing the other youth walking through the crowd.’

‘Sierra got it, swear down she got it covered…her and Lenski told me to come, what’s happening then bro?’

Maddox fills him quickly, Darius nodding as he looks to the sections pointed out by Maddox. Once finished they start working up the High Street. Youths driving the vehicles as Maddox, Darius, Paula and Roy work out where to place the bombs.

They select the best positions, working out which store fronts to use before carrying the tubs inside to attach the wires and spool the cable out to run down to the next one. It takes time to cut and splice the wires with Roy double checking each one is set correctly. Paula worrying that the innocuous looking tubs have been set up wrong and will fail to go off.

The afternoon sun beats down relentlessly into the street as they walk a few metres, pick another store then carry the IED inside to connect with wires before repeating it again.

Roy grabs a battery taken from the parked cars on the junction and carries it to the first side road, getting it set up several metres back from the junction to give the crew some cover. By the time he’s done the second section is underway with more tubs stacked into shop fronts and more wires stretching out to the next side street.

Maddox tasks Darius to select a small fast crew that can set the fire engine flame-thrower off then run round to the first side street, set the bombs off and then get round to the second side street for the same again.

Darius breaks away, organising two small teams. He gets the first at the point on the shore where the beach-side fire truck will be positioned and then runs with them down the beach and along the front of the hotels, finding a way through to come out onto the High Street opposite the first side road.

He gets that crew to practise the run several times, and find other routes in case something goes wrong. While they get versed he moves to the other small team and starts the process again. Running from the junction, round the back of the stacked vehicles to find a route into the service road. Mohammed’s efforts to block the junction are so good the team has to run further up to find a house, smashing the front and back door in to run through and out the back garden, into the service road and then along the back of the shops to the side road and the waiting car battery where Roy shows them how to connect the wires.

Darius gets them running the route several times, telling them it will be dark with shit going down everywhere so don’t get fucking lost and fuck it up.

The second section of the High Street is a repeat of the first, with solid hard graft underway. The youths not working on set tasks, busy themselves with dragging items out of the buildings to create obstacles for the horde. Long experienced with having running battles with the police and they know just how to make a long road hard to navigate.

Slowly, they work up the road to the second side street, with Roy getting the second ignition point set up with another car battery. Darius then goes back to the first ignition team and gives them the good news that once they’ve set the first bombs off they have to go back into the service road and get to the second side road. They take it without complaint and with the boundless energy of the young they start practising that route too.

With the first two sections rigged and ready, Jagger finds Maddox and the other two adults discussing the next set of plans.

‘Mads, we got the roofs done and we got the cocktails up there innit, we got rags and all the shit up good blood, we’s can get all the way down to the last building,’ he grins proudly.

‘Good,’ Maddox smiles back, ‘now do the same again on the second section…or find another crew to do it.’

‘Nah we do it bruv, this be like our thing…’

‘On you then Jagger,’ Maddox grins, ‘and find Darius, he’s getting a crew running from the junction to that first side road…there’s a fuck load of bombs in them shops so make sure they don’t set ‘em off until you clear.’

‘Got it bruv,’ Jagger shouts already sprinting away.

‘What we doing here?’ Maddox nods to the next section of the High Street, his energy seemingly inexhaustible.

‘Razor wire,’ Paula replies, ‘we get it coiled up at the sides with some rope stretched across the road that we lift up when we go past…they run into the rope and pull the wire in, works a treat.’

‘Brutal,’ Maddox says, ‘remind me never to piss you off lady. We’ll make sure Jagger has more cocktails on the roofs to throw down.’

The next project gets underway, with Paula making the children first put the slash-proof gloves taken from the DIY store, before they start handling the rolls of dangerous wire.

‘With more batteries we can electrify that wire,’ Roy suggests, getting into the swing of things and revealing his love of car batteries, ‘like you did with that cattle grid.’

More adolescents are sent back to the junction to find and bring back the batteries as Roy jogs off to get some wire from the electrical cable loom. The razor wire is man-handled into place, coiled in thick loops at the sides of the pavement as thick rope is attached to the ends of the wire and stretched flat across the ground.

‘How we gonna get the rope high enough for them to pull along?’ Maddox asks, looking down at the ground. ‘We can use the litter bins but it’ll sag down in the middle.’

‘Er…we’ll have to try the railings on that side,’ Paula points to the front of a hotel building, ‘and this side we can use a door handle or something, as long as we just loop properly then it shouldn’t tighten up when it gets pulled forward.’

Another round of trial and error begins with the rope being played out while Maddox gets a load of youths to run into it, seeing each time where the rope is falling down or tightening up. Eventually it gets done right and practised several times before both Paula and Maddox are satisfied. Roy gets the batteries put in place and works the cable back to the steel razor wire. Several batteries are connected on both sides to ensure a high voltage is pumped into the metal.

The sun beats a steady track through the sky, starting the descent as it drifts slowly but effortlessly down to give light to another part of the world. Shadows grow longer but the heat remains high as they work the main road metre by metre.

The possibility of the undead swarming along the beach is considered and yet more youths are sent back down the road to block the hotel doors up and make it as hard as fuck for them to get through.

The work is grindingly hard and made all the harder by the extreme heat. If society hadn’t of fallen the hospitals would be full of heat-stroke victims, the rail-lines would have found another reason to shut down and the tarmac on the roads would be melting from the constant vehicular traffic. Health and Safety reps within factories would be arranging tools down and walk-outs at seeing the mercury in the thermometers rise above the recommended work-place level. The newspapers would be headlining with the record breaking heat that beat the average high temperatures of the Mediterranean resorts. Sales of water would be rocketing as people heeded the advice to stay hydrated. Sun cream flying off shelves as the white pasty northern European skin turned pink and burnt

But society did fall and the event did happen. So they work and they don’t complain as one street in a seaside resort of a small town on the south coast of England gets ready to meet the largest gathering of undead yet seen.

Thirty Three

The infection knows the layout of every single road, street and track in the area. From the collective intelligence it knows the coastal road is the most direct route to the fort and it also knows that the movement of such a large body cannot go unnoticed.

Those it seeks will surely be aware of the exodus, and as with before they will surely plan ahead to reduce the numbers and start cutting the host bodies down.

One large body is easy to spot and easy to attack. Two large bodies are less easy to spot and less easy to attack, so the infection starts dividing its forces.

As the front of the horde reach a junction, the infection orders those on the right side of the road to take that junction and those on the left side to keep going. The order is executed with perfect precision as the thick column divides in two. Not a step is missed, not a beat broken but they carry on. As the two branches separate and move further into their respective roads, the infection re-organises the host bodies to move up and retain the same marching pattern. What would take the communist armies of North Korea and China months to arrange as they organise an orchestrated march past of their leaders, so the infection does within an instant of reaching the diverging point.

Two armies with the same objective and marching in the same direction become split as the inland road weaves further from the coast.

The infection then holds the marching section on the coastal road until the next selected junction is reached and again it splits the army to filter off to the right, veering into the next inland road.

Now three armies with the same objective and marching in the same direction and from a bird’s eye view you would see three thick columns still each possessing thousands of hosts march steadily towards the west.

None of these armies have a leader. There is no Marcy or Randall, no Darren leading them. No Thomas to organise the fight, for the infection has realised the folly of trusting the human mind to understand every risk and counter risk.

The army on the coastal road maintain the average marching pace understood by Dave. The other two increase the pace, commencing a double time sustained march. Chemicals, now far greater understood, are released into the bodies to sustain the expenditure of energy.

More junctions are reached. More sections filter off to march away from the coastal road, and with each one the columns re-adjust to present the same ranking structure on each road. Some of those branches will converge later, some will meet and then separate as further junctions are reached.

The fort is not the objective. There is no set location as the objective. The march is simply a way of drawing him out. He will learn of the march and attack. That is why the columns are split because Howie cannot attack all of them at the same time.

The infection waits. Knowing he will come. Waiting for him to come and willing to sacrifice whatever it takes to get just one bite into Howie.

Thirty Four

‘Look at them. Dirty filthy fuckers,’ my hands tighten on the steering wheel, ‘evil nasty bastards that just don’t know when to quit.’

Meredith starts growling, picking up on the foul scent from the thousands of diseased bodies marching towards us. Slowing the speed down they’re still a good distance off but even so, they present a solid dark wall that snakes forward.

‘Make sure Meredith is tied up, she’ll run out if we open the back doors,’ Clarence twists round from the front passenger seat to watch Nick attaching a rope to her thick collar.

Bringing the Saxon to a stop I commence a slow manoeuvre to turn round and present the back of the vehicle to them. With Meredith tied on the back doors are opened and Dave climbs up to take the first stint on the GPMG.

After discussing the tactics it was agreed to just use the one machine gun fired by Dave until either something changes or the situation develops.

‘Dave, you got a lot of ammunition for the sniper rifle?’ Blowers calls up.

‘Yes, help yourself, ten shots each at a time, the most headshots for each round gets a prize.’

‘A prize? Seriously?’ Cookey is on his feet already, almost jumping up and down on the spot with excitement.

‘Ladies first,’ Blowers nods respectfully to Lani as Clarence and I exchange a quick glance. This might be the time we notice something different if she hesitates or shows any discomfort at killing the infected.

‘Why thank you,’ Lani says politely. Keeping the Saxon stationary we wait for the horde to get a bit closer before we open fire.

‘Hang on,’ Nick calls out, ‘how we gonna know what shots we get…Dave’ll be getting headshots too.’

‘Good point, Dave you’ll have to hang fire until we’ve done the first round,’ I call out.

‘Roger that, standing by…someone pass me the binoculars and I’ll count the shots…remember what I taught you, breathe steady and squeeze the trigger.’

‘I’ll keep at a steady five miles an hour so we’re just ahead of them,’ I say. Lani settles down on the back of the Saxon, lying prone with her shoulder against the butt of the rifle as she takes aim and gets prepared. With the doors open, Meredith stares fixed but seems to understand we’re not in immediate danger as she doesn't growl or bark, but just lifts her upper lip every few seconds.

‘Ready?’ I call out, ‘moving forward now.’

With the horde getting closer by the second I gently press down on the pedal to ease the vehicle forward, once satisfied that we’re held at roughly the same pace they’re marching at I give the all clear and twist round to watch.

The first shot is taken within a couple of seconds of twisting round, no hesitation, no apparent leniency.

‘Shoulder,’ Dave calls down, ‘breathe Lani.’

‘Okay,’ she calls back, settles for a second then takes the next shot, ‘got it!’ She cries out.

‘One,’ Dave calls down.

‘Nice Lani,’ Nick says quietly.

She takes her shots, cursing when she clips a shoulder or arm, and getting a round of “oooh’s” when she gets a throat.

‘Six, not bad Lani…’ Dave calls down as she stands up and hands the rifle to Blowers.

‘It’s a lot harder than it looks,’ she says, ‘just the slight motion of the vehicle is enough to make it sway.’

‘Big distance though,’ Clarence says climbing from the front to watch Blowers take his go.

‘Ready?’ Dave calls down.

‘I am,’ Blowers replies.

‘All yours Simon.’

The first shot rings out, a head shot that Dave reports down getting a round of cheers and a comment of a lucky first shot from Cookey in response.

‘Six,’ Dave counts the total score.

‘Same as me Blowers,’ Lani pats his shoulder.

‘Fucking watch this,’ Cookey boasts, ‘this is gonna be a straight ten. He lies down, grasping the rifle to snuggle in close. He goes quiet as he focusses on the scope, getting the movement of the vehicle in synch with the march of the undead.

‘All yours Alex…head shot… well done.’

‘Ha,’ Cookey mutters, waits a few seconds and takes the next shot, and the next… the first five shots are clear head shots.

He takes the sixth shot while I try and keep the vehicle steady, twisting to watch the road then back to Cookey.

‘Head shot,’ Dave announces.

‘Six in a row,’ Nick calls out, ‘well done mate…keep going.’

Cookey stays silent, picking his next target before pausing to get the sway then squeezing the trigger, a loud retort and another one drops down to be trampled from view.

‘Head shot,’ Dave says in the same flat tone.

‘Seven! He’s in the lead,’ Nick says.

‘Go on Cookey,’ Clarence urges, completely swept up in the competition.

‘Miss, shoulder,’ Dave calls down to a round of groans. The next two are close but Dave reports neither can be counted as head shots and Cookey stands up with a broad grin, both pleased with his score and annoyed at himself for missing the last ones.

‘Nick,’ he hands the rifle over, ‘good luck mate.’

We all flinch as the GPMG bursts to life with a quick strafe, turning to see a row of heads explode along the front rank, the visible pink puff as Dave scores an instant ten.

‘Dave,’ Lani chastises him.

‘Sorry,’ he calls down, ‘I fancied a quick go,’ which amazes me that Dave would do something like that and I can imagine the small wry grin on his face as he listens to the moans and groans coming up.

Nick settles in and takes a full minute to get ready. Dave tells him he’s good to go and the first shot rings out, instantly blowing a skull apart as Dave shouts good shot.

Nick works quicker than the others, his hand to eye co-ordination faster than the other three as he picks the target, adjusts for the motion and fires. Scoring eight solid head shots in a row much to Cookey’s annoyance, the ninth clips an ear which Dave allows as it counts as part of the head, again much to the annoyance of Cookey who says if he’d known that rule he would have shot all their fucking ears off, which earns him a quick reprimand from Dave for unruly conduct in a competition.

The tenth is a straight miss, Nick standing up to glare at Cookey, ‘you’re fucking whining put me off.’

‘Clarence, you having a go?’ Nick offers him the rifle which he takes with a grin and waits for the others to move so he can squeeze his big bulk onto the floor.

He scores a straight nine in a row, with solid shots dropping them quickly. The tenth shot rings out and another body drops down as Dave reports it was throat and not head.

‘Boss? Your turn, let me drive for a minute,’ Clarence says as he pulls himself up. We swap over and wait while Clarence gets the Saxon moving at a steady pace again.

‘Straight ten Mr Howie,’ Lani winks as I move past her.

‘Be lucky to get one, I’m crap at this,’ I grin back but take my place at the rear, settling down to pull the rifle in and relax my position before I look through the scope.

The magnified faces of the undead swim into view and I take a few seconds to watch as they march in perfect timing. As I scan for a target I wonder why they’re letting us just take pot shots like this. They’ve got tens of thousands but we’ve still just taken almost fifty down, not counting the quick burst from Dave.

Their heads are held steady too, not lolling or rolling about. They look composed. The faces aren’t showing that hungry look but are set and focussed. Eyes forward with mean looks and there’s no doubt we’re being watched by many pairs of eyes.

Feet swing and plant in perfect synchronisation. Arms swing to maintain momentum. I pick a big ugly male in the front and breathe out slowly as I gauge the sway and motion of the vehicle.

The first shot takes his head off, one second he is there, walking along and the next his head is gone as the ones closest to him get sprayed with bits of brain and gore. They don’t flinch but keep moving.

The next one is a female, old and wrinkly with lank grey hair hanging down and a ragged wound festering in her neck. Her head is taken off with another clear shot.

Third one down and another head shot, watching the pink explosion as the body flies back into the one marching behind it.

Four and another clear shot. Five then six. Number seven is a teenage male, all gangly arms and legs, not a child but not yet a man and he never will be now as I remove his head for him.

Seven clear shots. Eight is another woman and I can start to feel a prickling sensation coming up my spine. I take the shot and drop her, Dave shouting down that it’s another clear shot.

Nine and I pause as the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, a sense that all is not as it seems. This road makes them easy targets. Far too easy. If they’re evolving and getting smarter then why pick the one road we can use to cut them down.

‘Nine,’ Dave shouts as I take the shot.

Too easy. This is too easy. They’re smarter than this. Well they aren’t but it is. The infection sent Marcy in, and it worked so well too. If not for Dave again we’d all be turned by now.

‘Something wrong boss?’ Clarence asks as I hesitate, sweeping the scope across the rank but with no idea what I’m looking for.

‘This isn’t right.’

‘What isn’t?’ Lani asks with concern.

‘This,’ I lift to my knees and stare back at them with my naked eye, ‘Clarence…stop the vehicle mate.’

He brings it to a stop within a few feet as we gather to stare out the back, the rest of them flicking between me and the oncoming horde.

‘Make ready to fire, all of you…Dave, be ready if they start running, Clarence too.’

‘Say the word,’ Clarence replies, ‘what you got boss?’

‘Not sure…something,’ my voice trails off as I watch them coming. Step by step and each one bringing them closer to our position.

I pass the sniper rifle to one of the lads and take up an assault rifle, racking the bolt back and making ready before lifting it up to aim. The others do the same, following my cue to rack and aim.

‘What’s up?’ Lani asks in the quietness of the vehicle.

‘This isn’t right,’ I murmur again.

‘What isn’t?’ She presses.

‘I don’t know…something…’ the sniper rifles was blowing them away, then the quick strafe by Dave with the GPMG, but it’s nothing we haven’t seen or done many times before. As we dropped one so another moved up to fill the space. But they’ve done that before too.

The expression on their faces. That’s what bothers me. They’re not showing the signs of aggression but just look focussed, they don’t look to be growling or making noises, just marching with their heads fixed upright.

‘They’re getting very close Mr Howie,’ Nick mutters.

‘I know mate, just hang on a second,’ I keep watching them. Watching them looking at us. Just a short distance away now, close enough to pick out individual details on their faces.

They come to a stop. Not a shot is fired and no one moves. They don’t stamp their feet down like an army would, they just stop and stand still in that perfect positioning.

‘What’s going on?’ Cookey whispers.

I don’t answer but keep watching. Why have they stopped? They should be swarming us now, charging forward to try their luck. Doing something. Running past us even but they don’t, they just stand there.

Meredith growls, the deep throaty rumble filling the Saxon. Clarence revs the engine slightly and Blowers shifts position, his boots creaking on the metallic floor.

They don’t show expression nor reaction, but neither does Dave and Lani is also very poker faced, and over the last few days I have become adept at reading both of them, sensing their moods and what they’re thinking. And right now I get the overwhelming impression this horde is suddenly unsure of what to do. No, not that, unsure of what we’re doing is more like it.

The sense of being watched sounds stupid as there are thousands and thousands of them stretching back over a long distance, but only those at the front can see us and it’s from them I get that creeping sensation of being watched. Not by them, but by what’s inside them. Assessed and evaluated, waiting to see what we do next.

I lift the rifle and take aim again, they show no reaction so I lower it down without taking a shot and still they wait.

Arms hanging limp at sides, bodies upright and poised. Heads fixed with eyes staring forward. No lips pulled back, no teeth bared and no howls or guttural groans.

Think Howie. You’re missing something here.

‘Dave, can you see the end?’

‘No.’

‘Boss, what we doing?’ Clarence asks again.

I step forward to the edge of the Saxon and look out, taking a deep breath before I shout, ‘what do you want?’

Nothing and I feel suddenly stupid for throwing a dumb question at a giant horde of unthinking undead. Only they aren’t unthinking. Something is controlling them, something is making them march in perfect timing and that same something is making them stop and wait there.

It was that something the question was directed at. But how can it answer. I don’t even know what it is. Like a conscious entity or a living thing with a mind. The idea of it is fleeting and hard to fix in my mind but I sense I’m on the right track.

‘HOWIE,’ thousands of voices boom out saying my name. Not shouted or screamed, just spoken. Male, female, high and low pitched but the word was clear and again I feel the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

‘I’m here,’ I shout back, ‘I’m Howie.’

‘Fuck me,’ Blowers mutters and I can feel the tension ramping up inside the vehicle. They don’t respond and I have to think hard to convince myself I didn’t imagine them saying my name.

‘I said I’m HERE!’ My voice starts to shout and ends up bellowing the last word as I feel that pinch of anger starting to gnaw away.

‘This is sooo fucking creepy…can we just shoot them please,’ Cookey asks.

‘Lani, do you feel anything?’ Dave calls down.

‘Nothing, apart from being creeped out like Cookey and wanting to blow them apart,’ she answers in a half whisper.

‘Mr Howie, there’s another column working along a road inland from here,’ Dave says softly, dropping his head for second so his voice comes down and not out.

‘They’ve divided their forces,’ Clarence says, ‘they knew we’d come for them on this road…we just walked into a trap.’

‘Is that it?’ I murmur, ‘I SAID IS THAT IT? YOU TRYING TO TRAP US?’ I shout as the anger builds up.

It watches the vehicle and the people within. It recognises all of them now. It knows the small one that is so deadly. It knows the giant and the laughing young men. It knows the girl was a host but now is not. It knows the dog is the one that took so many hosts down.

More than that, it knows Howie.

It recognises his voice as he shouts. It watches through many eyes and listens through many ears and it holds the hosts steady.

It studies and learns. Trying to understand why he is different, for even from this distance the infection can feel a chemical change within the hosts. Subtle yet definite. Fear grows in the hosts from this man and the infection does not know why.

So it waits. The divided forces are coming now as they start to flank and move closer, then it hears Howie shouting again, asking if it is trying to trap them.

The infection doesn't answer. It can answer and has done so simply as an attempt to unnerve Howie. Knowing from the collective intelligence that thousands of voices saying his name will cause a reaction.

‘Dave.’

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

‘You ready?’

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

‘All yours,’ I stick one finger up as he opens fire, withering the front ranks within seconds as they burst apart from the heavy calibre rounds slamming through them.

‘MOVE,’ I shout as they burst to life, gripping a handrail as Clarence accelerates away from the now charging horde. Dave’s precise aim keeps them back and once again we watch utterly mesmerised as he strafes left to right getting perfect head shots. His mind must be able to compute the tiny variables in height, making constant adjustments up and down and he doesn't keep hold of the trigger either, but presses and releases perfectly in time with the strafing.

‘They’ve stopped running,’ Nick shouts, I spin round to see them back at the orderly march. Figures constantly moving forward to take the place of those cut down.

‘Ahead on the right,’ Dave shouts down, ‘junction…they must be on that road.’

‘Take the junction,’ I say to Clarence as he starts dropping the speed off to negotiate the bend. He still takes it fast, causing us to either hang on tight or go flying across the inside. Once out of the junction he pushes he foot down, holding the big vehicle in the centre of the road.

‘Contact ahead,’ Dave shouts after a minute of tense driving. With his height advantage it takes until we’ve cleared the next bend to see the horde coming at us, already charging flat out and Dave doesn't wait for the order but starts firing the second he gets a clear line.

Clarence drops the speed, bringing the Saxon down to a stop before selecting reverse and starting to move backwards, buying time for Dave to fire into them before they swarm us.

‘MR HOWIE,’ Dave roars over the firing, ‘CLIMB UP AND SEE.’ I clamber over into the passenger seat and open the door, using the step to lever myself up onto the roof. The noise of the gun is deafening and I can feel the air ripping apart inches from my face as Dave continues to fire. I get up top and watch as he strafes to the left at the spot I was blocking on my way up.

On my feet and I stare out, the horde ahead of us is still charging and this close I can see their faces are now twisted with aggression. Bodies sprawling across the ground and the light coloured surface of the road runs thick with blood.

To the left, in the distance must be another lane or road, another column snaking along just visible as a dark mass drifting amongst the green and brown hues.

Spinning round I look off to the right in the direction of the coastal road, the first horde will be running now, trying to get us boxed in.

‘OKAY,’ I shout and drop down the back to climb into the rear, ‘another one off to the left, they must have been using the junctions to peel off.’  ‘Clarence, turn round and face the other way.’

‘Will do, narrow road so it might take a minute.’

‘Get ready to fire out the back, DAVE?’

‘Yes?’

‘We’re turning round, be ready to fire to the front and we’ll take the rear, they’ll be coming in from the coastal road.’

‘Roger,’ he commences firing again as Clarence starts the fifteen point turn, shunting forward until the front of the vehicle is making a big hole in the hedge, then backing up while turning the wheel the other way. The narrow road makes it difficult but it also reduces the width of the attacking horde, making it easier for Dave to hold them off.

‘They’re coming from the coastal road,’ Dave bellows.

‘Clarence we’re side on, we need to get turned…’

‘I’m bloody trying.’

‘Everyone out now, form a line across the road…DAVE…pick a side and we’ll take the other.’

‘Take the left side,’ he shouts.

‘Nick, get the second GPMG, Clarence hold still while we get out.’ He stops with the front buried in a hedge while we jump out the back and sprint a few feet down the road. Nick drops down behind the GPMG, pushing the tripod stand out while making ready. The rest of us place magazines on the ground ready for quick changes. Meredith going nuts in the back of the vehicle at being restrained and unable to join us.

‘I fucking love this job!’ Cookey shouts as he takes aim at the bend in the road ahead of us.

‘Come on….I am fucking itching to use this,’ Nick adds, his hand ready on the trigger guard.

‘NOW,’ We open up as they charge into view and at the point of seeing us they really do charge. Full on sprinting with legs pumping high and arms working to drive them on, the sight is amazing; the elderly and fat running like Olympic sprinters, they’ve even got their hands stretched out to prevent drag.

Two heavy machine guns and four assault rifles make a hell of a racket as this quiet leafy lane is turned into a war zone. They change tack, swerving left to right as they run. Shots start getting missed as they duck and weave. Some of them getting dangerously close before they’re shot down.

‘GET IN,’ the loudspeaker booms out as we start a fighting retreat, waiting for Nick to stand up and move backwards, his whole body vibrating from the power of the weapon.

‘Dave…SWITCH,’ I scream out as he twists round to take our lot now to his front while we put the fire down to the rear of the vehicle.

One by one we get inside, Nick holding them off, then we cover him as he pushes the GPMG in then jumps up.

‘COMING ACROSS THE FIELD,’ Dave roars down.

‘DAVE, MAKE A PATH…CLARENCE GET US OUT OF HERE…’

‘HANG ON,’ the big man shouts, giving us a second to find something to grip before he floors it. The engine screams with fury as it gathers speed, Dave firing straight ahead to make a gap.

‘HOLD US,’ Blowers shouts as he takes a stand next to me, hands grip our belts to hold us steady so we can release our grip and fire out the back. Only two of us but nearly every shot takes one down. The hedgerow starts blurring as we gather speed, Clarence shouting a warning a second before the front impacts straight into the horde.

The vehicle lifts, bouncing up on the fallen corpses to slam back down. As we power deep into them we start to see them from the rear doors. Realising they have a way into the vehicle and a message must pass between them as they surge for the back doors as we get deeper.

‘MOVE,’ Nick shouts, we both step aside as he walks forward holding Meredith on her lead. He braces as she reaches the edge. Her strong jaws and lightning speed preventing any of them from getting into the back. They lunge and dive but she moves deftly from side to side, white teeth flashing against the black of her fur. Blood spraying as she grips, shakes and lets go.

One dog holds the back clear, Cookey and Lani gripping Nick by his belt to stop him falling as he holds the lead.

‘BRACE,’ Clarence roars, I spin round just in time to catch a glimpse of a solid mass of undead lying in the middle of the road. More diving in to create a wall of bodies that quickly forms higher than the vehicle, more running in behind to make it thicker, denser. The speed of them is sickening, the way they sacrifice tells me the infection is driving these undead, watching us and learning how to react.

The front of the Saxon ploughs into the wall, more undead throw themselves at the pile. We start to lift as the front wheels find purchase on the human forms and as we lift I see them flinging themselves into the middle between the tyres, trying to ground us.

The motion rocks us violently and all we can do is hold on. Nick stumbles, barely held by Cookey and Lani at the same time as Meredith lunges forward, ripping the lead from his hand. She stumbles and loses grip, falling out the back as we scream, but there is nothing we can do but hold on tight.

The front lifts higher as the vehicle tries to climb the sudden hill of bodies. Their constant motion makes us slide left and right, the wheels spinning in the air as they lift and fall back down. A glimpse of Meredith as she fights at the back, spinning and leaping and still keeping them away from us.

A solid charge from the rear as we’re getting bogged in. A mass of them surging forward towards the open doors. Meredith on her own and about to be engulfed. Dave still firing to the front and sides, trying to clear them away. Clarence jerking the wheel hard to the left, then to the right as he powers on and off, using the weight of the vehicle to slowly squash them down so the wheel can find grip.

Flat on my back now, one hand gripping on to stop from falling down and out the back doors and I see them charging in closer and closer. The Saxon bucks and bounces, slamming my back against the floor. The others hanging on for dear life. Meredith is all that stands between that charging horde and the back of the vehicle. She’s alone, defending us and fighting desperately but every second sees her getting swamped.

With a roar I twist round and see my axe handle sticking out between the seats. As the Saxon bucks up I use the motion to dive forward and grip the shaft. My hand closes round it, pulling the beautiful double bladed weapon into me.

Then I let go and let gravity slide me down the long floor of the van to land on the road with my axe already up and swinging. I pile into the solid mass, scything wide and letting the razor sharp edge whisper through necks, faces and skulls.

I’ve learnt to use the axe now and make use of the length of the shaft, swinging it wide and gripping the end before I slide one hand up to hold it like a battering ram, pummelling at the same time as chopping them down.

The Saxon roars behind me, Meredith snarls and leaps as she tears throats out. Then she’s at my side, a dark shape that stands her ground as we stare out in defiance at our common enemy. Her lips pull back showing the rows of deadly blood stained teeth. Her eyes are alive with the glory of battle, standing with her pack as we face them down.

They charge again and so we do. Just me and the dog hacking them to bits. She senses my movements and works to protect my sides as I swipe out. Together we hold them off, bodies dropping, limbs severed to fall with an unheard thump onto the ground. Glancing back I see the Saxon almost upright with the front high in the air. The rear wheels drive into the bodies, churning them up and spraying bloody gore like mud puddles. Like a beast it rocks and bounces as Clarence refuses to give in. He knows the limits of the vehicle and pushes it harder. Dave spins round, unable to fire forward so he shoots over my head deep into the ranks coming at us.

With Meredith savaging them, my axe chopping and Dave firing we clear the space. Meredith doesn't try to run forward but stays next to me.

A loud thump and the Saxon reaches the apex of the bodies, tilting over as the front drops quickly. The weight of the vehicle condenses the bodies, forcing them into the ground and the front wheels drop to find purchase and grip like hell to drag the back end free.

‘NOW,’ Dave shouts. I grab the dog’s collar and start running for the back. She gets the idea and bounds ahead of me, her agile body using the corpses as stepping stones to leap up into the rear of the Saxon as it drops back down.

I’m not so agile and slip, slide, trip and curse my way over them. I throw my axe in and go to jump but slip down to land amongst the bloody cadavers, one hand plunging into a chest cavity and I can feel the warm gooey insides squelching between my fingers.

Back up and I keep going, hands reach out and grab my arms heaving me into the back where I land on my back grinning like an idiot at Lani standing over me with a face like thunder.

‘What the hell?’ She shouts, ‘you happy now?’

‘Yeah,’ I laugh, ‘much better.’

Bouncing back down the hill of bodies and Dave spins to start firing at the front again as Clarence picks the speed up to use the solid metal front as a battering ram.

Suddenly they break apart and dive to the sides giving us an empty road which he makes full use off to accelerate us out of danger.

‘Round one to us you fuckers,’ Cookey stands near the back doors showing them a finger, ‘hear that? Round one to us.’

Clarence gets us out of the lane back onto the coastal road, slowing down a little once we’re fully clear with a good distance from them.

‘Good girl,’ I laugh as Meredith sticks her nose in my face, licking my ears and neck as her tail wags excitedly. I ruffle her neck and stroke her head and she drops down to rest her front paws on my chest.

‘We fucked ‘em off didn’t we girl…yes we did…yes we did!’ She barks high pitched with the speed of her tail threatening to spin away any second.

‘She’s a good girl!’ Nick drops down to rub her back and with two of us giving her a good fuss she gets even more excited with a look of pure bliss on her face and bloodied chops.

‘That was bloody good thinking Nick, well done mate.’

‘Cheers boss,’ he replies quietly.

‘Fuck that,’ Cookey exclaims, ‘that was fucking awesome…can we go back and go over them again…’

‘We only just made it that time,’ Clarence rumbles, ‘did you see that tactic? That was incredible.’

‘Pull up a minute mate,’ I shout out, waiting for the vehicle to come to a stop before I push the dog off and slide out the back. Grabbing water bottles I start sluicing the gore from my arms and hands as Nick starts washing Meredith’s face and paws.

‘You alright Mr Howie?’ Dave drops down from the top, then down onto the road, taking a bottle to swig from.

‘Yes mate, what was that?’ I ask, still flushed from fighting.

‘That’s what I was just saying,’ Clarence walks round, ‘they were trying to ground the vehicle…clever fuckers.’

‘Almost did it too,’ I reply, ‘good driving though, you got us clear.’

‘Only just, for a second I thought we we’re gonna be stuck up there.’

‘Why did they pull back?’ Lani asks, ‘they just stopped and let us out.’

‘Cos they lost,’ I shrug, ‘like Cookey said, round one to us.’

‘You think so?’ She asks, ‘what so…like they were losing too many so they dropped back? That’s smart,’ she shakes her head, ‘too smart.’

‘Evolving,’ Dave says.

‘We need to get to that town, they don’t know the hordes have split,’ I say quickly.

‘Come here,’ Lani grabs a bottle to pour on my hands, using her own to wash the bits of gore off. Then grabbing a pack of anti-bacterial wipes she starts on my face, roughly swiping at my skin as I yelp and try to duck, ‘stay still, you’re covered in it,’ she smiles, ‘and what was that?’

‘What?’ I ask innocently.

‘That?’ She asks, ‘charging out on your own.’

‘I wasn’t on my own, Meredith was there.’

She grins and softens the swipes, rubbing more gently as she works to clear the gunk from my cheeks then my neck, ‘well, just tell me next time so I can go with you,’ she adds softly.

‘Will do,’ I grin as we lock eyes for a second until Clarence coughs pointedly.

‘The hordes?’ He prompts.

‘Eh? Right yeah…the town…let’s go, it’s getting dark already.’

‘You can have your car back,’ he grins ruefully, ‘I think that’s put me off driving for life.’

Thirty Five

‘Maddox, it’s Jagger bruv, they coming down that road.’

‘Yeah Jagger it’s Maddox, you on the roof?’

‘Yeah bruv, I can just see ‘em.’

‘Is Howie at the front?’

‘Nah bruv, I swear down I can’t see him.’

‘Did you hear that?’ Maddox asks Paula stood next to him, the sudden look of worry on her face tells him she did hear it.

‘Look for muzzle flashes,’ Roy speaks up, ‘can he see muzzle flashes?’

‘Jagger you see any muzzle flashes bro?’

‘No Mads, don’t see nuffin’, just them.’

‘We’d hear the guns if they were firing,’ Paula says, ‘it’s so quiet we’d hear them a mile off.’

‘Summin gone wrong then,’ Darius adds, ‘he should be at the front shouldn’t he?’

‘POSITIONS,’ Maddox shouts, ‘they’s comin but Jagger can’t see Howie or his vehicle, we stick to the plan you get me?’

‘Mads, there’s two loads coming, one on the road and the other coming into that open land where the kids play park is.’

‘That’s okay,’ Paula says quickly, ‘they have to converge at this point.’

‘Unless they work round the back or try and come in from the sides,’ Roy says, ‘or worse they go right round and come in from the other end…it’s too dark here, we need to give them something to aim for…’

‘Make some noise,’ Maddox shouts, ‘COME ON YOU FUCKERS,’ he roars into the air, waving his arms to get everyone else to join in. The youths need no further persuasion as they give voice, screaming abuse and insults in a cacophony of noise.

‘Mads, ‘they’s comin’ quicker now bruv…both of ‘em are running.’

‘ENOUGH,’ Maddox shouts, the shouting drops out plunging them into silence save for the increasing noise of feet drumming across the ground. ‘The vehicle ain’t coming so listen for my voice…’ Maddox shouts. The crews for the fire trucks were prepped to set them off once the Saxon had passed and was into the main street.

‘Where are they?’ Paula mutters with concern.

‘Fuck ‘em,’ Maddox growls, ‘we worry about us right now…here they come…’

‘Oh my,’ Roy says mildly as the moonlight illuminates the dark shapes emerging from the shadows. Silent figures running towards them, their features becoming more apparent as they get closer. The drumming of feet slapping against the road getting louder with every second.

‘WAIT…’ Maddox shouts, watching them come he knows they are too far off. The gathered group all stare as the front of the horde reaches the open land and, as predicted, make immediate use of not being funnelled by spreading out. They keep order and maintain the same pace, almost slowing down to give themselves time to spread across.

The column from the coastal road comes first, quickly joined by the spreading darkness of the second group coming across from the park. Silent and eerie, like shadows growing out of nothing. The blend of black and greys of the night make it hard to see clearly, so they merge and form, drift and grow.

‘WAIT,’ Maddox shouts again. The temptation to fire now is strong but most of shots would be wasted, going too high or low. The youths can all shoot but none of them are trained or experienced enough to judge great distance and adjust accordingly.

‘WAIT,’ Maddox watches the closest lad and the way his fingers grip the trigger, using him as a guide for the rest. ‘NOT YET,’ Maddox shouts again, the boy flexes his hand, quickly stretching the fingers out in a subconscious effort to alleviate the sudden build-up of tension.

The youths are hardened and even before the outbreak they were toughened against the ordeals of hard living in a tough place. But even the bravest find the sight of the awful dark figures emerging from the gloom frightening. Like something from the worst nightmare, monsters that gather and come forward. Silent and gruesome. They all expected to see the Saxon working a fighting retreat as it fired into the masses. They were ready to gather at the sides and join Howie and his crew as they cut the monsters down. But the Saxon isn’t coming and without it they suddenly feel very alone, very young and very outnumbered.

‘WE IS GONNA FUCK ‘EM UP,’ Maddox booms, ‘THIS IS GONNA BE HARD BUT WE…WILL….FUCK…THEM….UP!

‘COME ON…TELL ‘EM…TELL THEM FUCK’S WHO WE ARE…’ Maddox screams as loud as possible, sensing the ripples of fear running through his crews. Giving them a release of that nervous energy by screaming defiantly. They respond and again start shouting, the noise builds as they push their fear into their voices. Boys and girls yelling and screaming.

The merging hordes respond, and almost as though they detect the lightness of tone of the youths they give back with deep adult tones, bass filled and resonant. Deep and evil, showing they are strong and many. Two jeering sides that scream at one another across a once calm expanse of open land of a pretty seaside town.

Maddox, knowing they won’t hear him give the order to fire, lifts his assault rifle and pauses for a few seconds, waiting that excruciating extra bit of time to make sure they are well within range of all the guns.

With a hard grin, eyes glinting in the darkness he squeezes the trigger. The rifle booms louder than all the shouting and every gun is lifted, every hand grips and squeezes and the air is split apart by bright muzzle flashes all across the front of the line they form. The noise is incredible and unlike anything any of them have heard. A solid boom of guns being fired and the first volley slams into the front ranks dropping scores of undead.

‘KEEP FIRING,’ Maddox booms and presses the trigger again. His assault rifle is kept on single shot, indicative of his character by giving him complete control over every single shot fired instead of holding the trigger down and hoping for the best.

Guns fire, assault rifles crack, shotguns boom and rifles retort. After the first solid volley the firing becomes erratic, still sustained and constant but the different weapons fire at different rates.

The charging figures are cut down in their droves but still they push forward, as though sensing the young bodies just metres away. They charge with utter determination and at first they go head on, running flat out into the guns.

Then they start swerving, turning the solid mass into a writhing undulating twisting sea of figures that bob, duck and weave. Some of the youths become confused, and instead of just firing into the central mass they try and track individual targets. The firing becomes slower, the four elders stood in the middle of the front row realise the danger.

‘FALL BACK,’ Maddox roars, ‘FALL BACK…FALL BACK…’ The order takes several precious seconds and both Maddox and Darius start grabbing to pull the children back.

Some turn and fire as they fall back which just about holds the front of the horde off for that vital few seconds but they are getting dangerously close.

‘NOW…FIRE THE TRUCKS NOW…FIRE THE TRUCKS…’ Maddox screams with all his worth. For a second nothing happens and they all fear the crews have been wiped out in the darkness.

Then the hose in the junction starts spraying pungent fuel high into the air, the powerful spray is directed up to rain down and soak the ground. The second hose on the beachside starts up with a second jet that just meets the first one in mid-air above the heads of the charging horde.

Roy pauses and draws the arrow prepared with a white spirit soaked rag tied onto the point, pulling back he nods at Maddox who applies a flame, igniting the end. Roy lifts and looses, the arrow soaring high to plummet down in a bright arc to plunge into the roaring jets of fuel.

The fuel ignites and the air comes alive as the darkness is banished by huge flames that give light to the whole area.

The effect is far greater than any of them could have hoped for. Paula grins with delight as the area becomes impassable. The undead still try and push through, flaming bodies bursting from the flames staggering towards the junction but they drop within seconds.

Even from their position the heat and the smell hits them hard. The stench of chemical fire, diesel and burning flesh fills the air. The group drop back further into the junction, backing away from the awesome spectacle of two giant flame throwers.

The end of the first hose starts to melt from the intense heat, the metal fitting simply unable to withstand the high temperature. It distorts and softens, slowly turning to liquid and dropping away. Without the metal end the material of the hose burns quickly, opening up to spray fuel from tiny crevices that ignite. Those smaller flames burn more material away which bursts the hose apart in a long fireball that shoots down the length right back to the truck. The flames shoot inside the internal working of the pump. Inch by inch the liquid ignites within the vehicle until that first tiny flame reaches the tank.

The resulting explosion is fantastic. A majestic screeching of metal bursting apart and flames that mushroom up into the air. Whole swathes of undead are eviscerated as the pressure wave removes them from existence.

Scorching hot metal fragments embed into soft fleshy bodies in one direction, and in the other they bury deep into the surrounding vehicles. With the fuel caps all opened the fumes from the petrol contained within the many vehicles starts to ignite. The vans and lorries closest to the fire truck go first. Exploding with less force than the fire truck but still with enough power to render the area just a sea of death and destruction.

Swarms of undead, already trying to clamber over the vehicles to outflank the survivors are taken away from this planet and put back into the most basic form of carbon.

Fuel tank after fuel tank goes up. Then the home-made bombs within the tubs, stuffed into the vehicles go up too. Boom after boom fills the air. The nails and screws burst out destroying more swathes of undead.

The second fire truck goes up in the same manner as the first. Exploding into a bright fireball that scorches the air. The burning fragments burst through the windows of the neighbouring hotel, starting small fires in the old wood furniture and exposed wooden floors.

Youths duck and drop back as the sight and noise threatens to overwhelm their senses. The human mind simply unable to compute the constant explosions going off in such quick succession.

Paula stares with wonder, never imagining it would be this effective. She catches sight of bodies still trying to get through the flames. But less now, almost as though they are probing and sacrificing just ones and twos to find a way through the fire.

As spectacular as the exploding fire trucks are, the flip side is all the fuel is burnt off in one go, the hoses gone and the middle ground is now without solid sheets of flames. Sporadic burning sections as the grass stays aflame or bodies smoulder with thick smoke coming from them.

They charge again. A trickle of a few that find a way through the flames. More follow and within a few seconds the mass of them is coming once more towards the youths.

They don’t wait for the order this time but start firing as they work their way back along the street. Maddox imagining the crews racing through the streets to get to the second position.

The undead reach the front of the High Street and find a rain of plastic bottles dropping down onto their heads. Plastic bottles filled with highly flammable white spirit, stuffed with long burning rags. The trails of light look almost pretty and serene as they drop from the top of the buildings. They land and splatter the contents out, igniting from the burning rag and creating more fire that flames up.

More bottles come down amongst them as a cheer erupts from the youths fighting on the ground. Jagger had timed it perfectly, getting some of crew throwing the cocktails and others firing weapons down.

Now with two sides attacking them the horde suffer greater losses but still they surge in with ruthless determination to get at the youths.

Maddox pulls them back slowly, resisting the temptation to work back faster in order to get more of them into the street. Paula and Roy both fire assault rifles, using single shot like Maddox to pick their targets.

Shotguns spray hundreds of pellets that wither and drop the zombies. Rifles send good solid rounds through chest cavities and skulls. Assault rifles blow heads away or strike multiple rounds into legs which drop the things to crawl and get trampled.

The flames from the cocktails bathe the street in an orange glow that flickers and dances in reflection from the fronts of the buildings. Thick black smoke now billows from that first hotel set aflame from the fire truck.

A pause in the firing above as Jagger moves his crew to the next roof and starts again with more cocktails prepped and waiting. Light trails falling gracefully from the sky to land amongst the ranks.

Still they push in, a never ending supply of host bodies that refuse to yield to the constant bombardment.

Back the youths go, forced step by step by the ever advancing horde. They reach the first side street. Roy running down to check the team is ready to press the wires to the battery.

They hold position as Jagger throws the last of his cocktails before getting his crew down from the top of the last building.

With the horde now pushing so close Maddox worries they won’t be able to set the bombs off for fear of being pushed back. At the last second Jagger and his team burst out with guns up and firing into the front ranks as they run down to the disappear inside the next building after the side street.

‘MOVE BACK,’ Maddox yells, on command they all move quickly down the street, ‘NOW,’ Maddox adds.

Roy relays the order, having positioned himself that bit closer to the crew waiting with the battery.

Red wires are pressed to positive, black to negative. An electrical current is sent into the wires that surges along the ground and round the corner into the High Street. The surge of current goes underfoot of the horde and down further to the first plastic tub sat in the darkness of a shop display window. The current reaches the chemicals. The chemicals react as intended and burst the tub apart.

The sound of the explosion is dulled by the solid dense ranks of the undead but the effect is highly visible as an arm of flame shoots out, sending scorching hot nails and screws across the whole width of the pavement. They go down like dominoes, blown apart and creating a sudden gap.

The current reaches the second bomb, then the third and all the way down. Pop after pop. Boom after boom and with each one a whole section of the street is taken out.

The explosions create many crawlers who buck and writhe, still determined to keep going but they also do create a whole empty section of destroyed bodies. The bombs send fire, nails and screws out to all sides, which in turn causes more fires to break out within the stores that were placed in.

With the first section of the High Street wiped out the following horde surge in, a relentless wave that pushes to take the place of the first.

Firing starts again as the weapons come to life. Bodies dropping down as the slaughter goes on.

Paula prepped the area with help from Roy. But now Maddox runs the fighting, like a general of old he watches every youth and senses the speed changes as the undead pick their game up to push harder than before.

‘MOVE,’ he starts grabbing children to force them away.

The action is repeated as the group drops back, drawing the horde in closer and closer. Once past the junction, Jagger commences his second barrage from above. More flaming cocktails sent down to land amongst the ranks. More firing which keeps dropping body after body.

They howl and roar and refuse to stop, instead they drive on harder and faster as their already dead bodies are pumped with strong chemicals, turning them into nothing more than wild animals.

Reaching the second junction they again hold and wait for Jagger to come down. He just makes it as the undead scream with unabated fury to charge in.

Roy doesn't wait for Maddox, he can see the charge is seconds away from getting to them so he gives the order to the breathless team waiting at the second ignition point.

Again they apply the wires and again the current ripples along the wires to the first charge. Again it goes off and again the street is cleared.

Youths cheer and roar, faces covered with grime and soot, blackened from the fires and debris, ears ringing from the constant firing of weapons within the enclosed environment. Young shoulder ache from the recoil of the weapons. Paula grimaces at the sight as the undead are once more destroyed in vast numbers.

The first section of the High Street is now well aflame on both sides. The fire eating into the old buildings. It does nothing to hamper the rate of charging but only serves to choke the air and give them more light.

Into the third section and the battery ignition crew run back to the front of the coiled razor wire. Roy running with them to make sure the connections are intact and applied properly.

They wait for the main group to drop back and apply the charge, electrifying the razor wire. As the last of the kids go by the specialist team moves across to lift the rope in the practised method. Roy now sticking with them with his heavily armed body bouncing with weapons. An assault rifle held by a strap. His compound bow looped over his shoulder, his backpack with the two sawn-offs poking up and the sword hilt sticking out.

Still he doesn't panic and even takes the time to wink and smile at the teenage boys and girls as they set the next trap. Panic doesn't bother him. Panic of this nature never bothers him. But that gum does feel a bit sore and inflamed though, his tongue probes down between his teeth and his cheek.

While the youths work he quickly pulls a small bottle from his pocket and swigs at the contents, holding the Corsodyl in his mouth as he makes sure the rope is set right.

They run back as he spits the contents out, feeling the pleasant tingle from the familiar taste of the mouthwash.

The youths start firing as soon as the rope team are out of the way. The oncoming horde now flat out as they keep the potential hosts in sight. Growling with hunger, driven by adrenalin and testosterone, fuelled by rage and fury.

‘HERE,’ Jagger yells, his crew pull a couple of boxes of prepared cocktails out from a shop front, ‘WE MADE THIS INNIT, WANT SOME?’ He grins like a maniac as small hands grab bottles and start igniting the rags before sending them high into the air.

They drop back firing weapons and throwing bottles of flammable liquid. The street soon fills up again as the front ranks reach the rope and drive it forward, pulling the wire out and into the ranks. The electrified wire bites at the first few, making them rigid as current courses through them.

All the down the street, zombies are rooted to the spot, electrocuted by the rows of batteries pulsing voltage through the wire. The wire not only burns and contracts the muscles but bites deep into legs, opening arteries and removing fingers.

Blood sprays out to soak the road. The wire pulls in further, tangling the upright and falling bodies. With the section now a tangled mess the group stand their ground and fire relentless volleys, withering them in great numbers.

‘MADDOX,’ a girl runs in, grabbing at his arm while pointing behind them up the street. The leader spins round to see the front of another horde coming in from behind them. The moonlight just catching the first couple of ranks as they emerge from the gloom.

Casting about he searches for an escape but there simply isn’t one; the High Street is chocked full of writhing undead. There are no side streets here.

The first alternative comes to mind and he screams the order again and again, ‘CAR PARK…GO NOW…CAR PARK…’ He repeats it as Darius and Paula realise the trap and start pushing the youths towards the sloping vehicle ramp.

The first children get to the ramp and lay fire down at the oncoming zombies, cutting them down to buy time for the rest to get into the entrance. With all of them inside Maddox gets them climbing the ramp to the first tight corner, holding them there and ready for the first to appear at the bottom.

‘Jagger, Mo Mo,’ Maddox shouts as the two older trusted lads push forward. ‘Get to the top and find a way out of here.’

They nod without reply and set off, both of the fit lads racing up the ramp.

‘FIRE,’ Roy shouts as they reach the bottom of the ramp. A withering volley destroys the initial charge. The ramp just being wide enough for two vehicles and it makes them funnel into a tight space easy to defend.

However, with the constant rate of firing the ammunition will deplete and run out then it will be down to fighting old school. The youths are fast and tough but against a seemingly never ending stronger opponent they will lose eventually.

Slowly they start working up the ramp as the undead push further into the entrance. Solid walls of zombies that trample and crush those already cut down. Streams of blood start pouring down the slope creating another minor obstacle as the attackers start to slip and slide.

‘Where the hell is Howie?’ Paula snaps.

‘Fuck him,’ Maddox replies, ‘like I said, we’re on our own now.’

Thirty Six

‘MAGAZINE,’ Dave shouts from the top.

‘Now? Really? Shit,’ I curse as the heavy machine gun ceases firing at the huge horde charging towards us.

‘They’re coming from the rear too,’ Dave says as calmly as if he was talking about the weather.

‘Get that second gun going out the back.’

‘Already doing it,’ Clarence grunts hefting the heavy weapon in place as Nick and Lani get the rear doors open. Even in the dark there is enough moonlight to see the oncoming mass of figures running towards us.

We didn’t get more than a mile before another column charged out of a junction in front of us. Dave reacting with his lightning speed to start cutting them down and we held ground instead of risking getting caught out with the last trick they pulled trying to ground the Saxon.

But now the rear lot have caught up, they must have been running flat out since we got away knowing that this new section would be blocking our route. Clever bastards. One round each then for now.

‘Oh and that lot that were coming across that field back there,’ Dave calls down again, ‘they’re coming across this field now.’

‘What? Seriously? Wankers…’

‘Attacking three sides, nice,’ Clarence adds as he gets comfy behind the weapon.

‘Dave, can you see them in that field?’ I shout up.

‘Er…yes Mr Howie, I just said I could.’

‘Yeah alright, stupid question…is the ground flat?’

‘I don’t know…it’s night and I can’t see the ground.’

Ask a question and get an answer, ‘right,’ I say firmly, first twisting round to look at the rear horde, then back out the front at that horde, then at the high thick hedge on the bank above us to the right. The sea is on the left with the tide in, so there’s only a thin sliver of beach left and I wouldn’t risk the weight of this vehicle on the sand anyway. ‘Fuck it…close those doors and hang on tight.’

The doors slam shut and I catch a glimpse of Clarence half turning back with a worried look on his face, ‘Dave, you braced?’

‘I am Mr Howie.’

‘Ha, have some of this,’ I mutter, engaging the gear box and slamming my foot down. The engine roars defiantly as it surges forward directly towards the oncoming figures sprinting at us. Gathering speed I hold the course steady going through the gears to get some decent speed up.

‘We won’t get through them?’ Clarence shouts.

‘HOLD ON TIGHT,’ I scream, seconds away from impacting with the front runners and I turn the wheel sharply to the right, veering off the road and up the high bank. The front wheels leave the earth as we reach the top and crash through the thick bramble hedge, landing with a heavy thump and loud cheers coming from the lads and Lani.

I push the vehicle on, getting deeper into the field at the same time as staring across to the new lot quickly changing course to start running across the grass. A big grin stretches across my face at the sight of them. A big long line all stretched out into the darkness and as one they change direction, an almost comical movement.

Grabbing the handset for the loudspeaker and I flick the switch, activating the system, ‘DIDN’T EXPECT THAT DID YOU?’ My amplified voice booms across the meadow, ‘COME ON FUCKERS….YOU HUNGRY?’

‘They’re coming through the gap we just made in the hedge,’ Dave shouts down.

‘Well fucking shoot them then,’ I shout back.

‘Can we open these doors now or are we going over any more fucking jumps?’ Clarence calls out.

‘Er…not at the moment mate…can’t really see anything though.’

‘Mr Howie,’ Nick calls out politely, ‘we’ve got headlights.’

‘Oh yeah, shit I forgot,’ fumbling for the switch I find it and flick them onto full beam, the British army might have lots of things wrong with it, but they put bloody powerful lights in their vehicles; these lights could probably be seen from space they’re so bright.

Which gives me another idea so I start to slow down, giving Clarence and the others a chance to get the doors open. Both heavy guns start firing at the same time, Dave aiming into the field and Clarence going for the ones coming through the hedge.

Cookey gets to the front, reaching over the seat to pull the handset free, ‘May I?’ He shouts, his words hardly heard over the sound of both guns going for it. I get the gist and nod with a grin.

‘ZOMBIES….’ He drawls in a long slow voice that booms round the field, ‘ZOMBIESSSS RUN ZOMBIESSS…ARE WE GOING TOO FAST? WE’LL STOP FOR YOU.’

I slow down to a dead crawl, just inching along as we watch them start to weave and stagger, Clarence holds off firing for a few seconds, then Dave stops…silence descends as we hold still and quiet, waiting for them to catch up.

‘COME ON,’ Cookey urges, ‘WE’RE HERE WAITING…AND WE’RE TASTY TOO… WHO IS GOING TO GET A FEAST FIRST? WILL IT BE THE HORDE FROM THE FIELD OR THE HORDE FROM THE ROAD? SO CLOSE BUT THE FIELD HORDE ARE CLOSING FAST…OH NO…THE ROAD HORDE ARE GAINING NOW…RUNNING FLAT OUT BUT NO…THE FIELD HORDE HAVE THE ADVANTAGE…COME ON BOYS AND GIRLS…WE’VE GOT SOME LOVELY MEATY BRAINS IN HERE…WELL SOME OF HAVE, MAYBE NOT BLOWERS…get ready,’ he whispers to me.

‘On it,’ I reply with a grin.

‘COME ON…RUN MY ZOMBIES…SO CLOSE…SO CLOSE NOW…CAN YOU TASTE IT? I BET YOU CAN TASTE US? OOOHHH SO CLOSE,’ he taps my shoulder, ‘SO CLOSE…COME ON….YOU CAN DO IT…OH NO…IT’S TOO LATE!’

I pull away as both guns open up again. Swathes of undead being slaughtered after an all-out sprint across the field. Glancing up I see Cookey in fits of laughter and behind him the others giggling hard at the sight.

‘OKAY OKAY,’ Cookey continues, ‘SORRY WE SHOULDN’T HAVE DONE THAT, UNSPORTING BEHAVIOUR ON THE FIELD…WE’LL GIVE YOU ANOTHER CHANCE…’

Both guns cease at once as I bring the speed down, amazed that Dave is willing to play along with something so stupid and infantile while we’re slowly getting surrounded, but with them all here attacking us at least they’re not going for the town.

‘RIGHT WE’RE HOLDING STILL THIS TIME…COME ON YOU CAN DO IT…GET THEM KNEES UP…YOU CAN’T BE VERY HUNGRY IF THAT’S ALL YOU DO…OH THAT’S BETTER…BOTH TEAMS ARE MERGING NOW AS THEY ENTER THE FINAL STRAIGHT…ARMS PUMPING AWAY…OH WE’VE GOT A FRONT RUNNER…THE ONE IN THE RED TOP…COME ON MATE YOU CAN DO IT…COR LOOK AT HIM GO FOR IT…THAT’S THE WAY TO DO IT…ALMOST HERE…ALMOST…LAST BIT NOW….YES…YES..’ Cookey shouts in an increasingly excited tone, ‘YES…YES…BUT NO…SORRY!’

Again I pull away and both guns open up as the front runner in the red top gets just metres away, his face almost as red as his eyes.

This time I drive on, gaining a decent distance as I complete a wide turn, switching the headlights on to dim before we get back facing them. Holding steady at a low speed I drive towards the front, waiting with my fingers on the light switch. The field is packed with them now, hundreds and hundreds already charging after us and more pouring through the gap in the hedge. With fifty metres to go I flick the switch onto full beam and laugh as the front runners are blinded. Even in their pumped up undead testosterone driven bodies they flinch and veer away from the powerful lights. Veering left and right and tripping over each other as the whole front section are blinded at the same instant.

Pushing my foot down I drive straight into them, letting the hard solid front of the Saxon plough through their ranks. Dave firing from the top and as soon as we break through Clarence opens up from the back.

With both guns going they are cut to pieces. Body after body being ripped away by the large calibre bullets ripping through them. They respond quickly though and the more I drive through the field, changing direction to draw them on the more they remind me of those underwater documentaries about the huge schools of fish being hunted by sharks. Hundreds of thousands of individual fish all moving as one giant organism. Changing direction instantly, diving deeper or going towards the surface. Smooth and precise and mesmerising. These are the same, changing, twisting, weaving and all the time running after us.

Whatever the thing is that controls them has a tight grip to control them so precisely. But the field is big and we make use of the length and the width. Pulling them behind us in long strung out lines that we can cut down with ease and the body count mounts with every second. The field becomes thick with a carpet of corpses that causes them to trip and fall every time we change direction.

Then they switch on and withdraw, a sudden reaction that sees every single one of them turning to run towards the coastal road and again the action is clearly done to prevent such huge losses being racked up.

We pull up in a far corner and stare out in silence, wondering what to do. Nick and the lads take the chance to light up, taking quick hurried drags and blowing the smoke out the back doors.

‘We going after them?’ Clarence asks as he feeds a fresh belt of ammunition into the GPMG.

‘We could go cross country to the town,’ Nick suggests, ‘lure them after us like we planned.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ Lani adds, ‘stick by the road until we’re clear then get back down.’

‘Righto,’ I reply cheerfully, ‘we better get back I guess, they’ll be wondering where we are…I bet they’re all stood there at the junction tapping their feet and tutting away while we’re fucking about in a field.’

Thirty Seven

‘Move! Move out the fucking way…’ Mohammed runs in front of the car driven by Jagger, shouting to get the crews to move aside. The large four wheel drive had been left untouched on the first level of the car park and was a prize too good to ignore.

Window smashed, door opened, cowling ripped off and wires pressed to start the engine. Fuel cap prised open and a long rag dipped into the tank then pulled out to hang down against the body of the vehicle.

‘Maddox…you got a light bruv?’ Mohammed shouts as they reach the front. Spinning round Maddox takes the sight in within a split second, grinning broadly as he runs over.

Jagger gets half out of the driver’s seat, one foot still in the vehicle pressed on the foot brake. The second it flames Jagger releases his foot and youths push the vehicle down the steep ramp.

They release and drop back, all of them turning to run further away, knowing the vehicle will get jammed at the first bend.

Paula and Roy run with them, heaving themselves up the ramp as they hear the vehicle smash into the side wall, screeching metal against concrete then silence as they all get round the next bend and pause to listen.

Weapons are up and aimed as the horde take advantage of the momentary ceasefire to surge up the ramp, flooding over and round the vehicle. The rag burns quickly, the flames eating up like a short fuse to drop down into the fuel tank.

The fuel ignites. The pressure inside the tank expands so rapidly is disintegrates the structure of the vehicle surrounding the tank.

A huge fireball bursts out, sending scorching hot twisting metal fragments deep into the undead.

In the enclosed space the noise is immense; deep, long and echoing. The stench of burning fuel and chemicals wafts up.

‘You two,’ Maddox points to Jagger and Mohammed, ‘I told you to find a way out,’ he barks, ‘good work and all that shit but get us the fuck out of here…you,’ he switches his pointing finger to two more kids, ‘do what they just done and get more cars down here.’

Everyone else gets ready, aiming weapons at the bend. Roy hands his assault rifle and magazines to a youth armed with a single shot rifle. After seeing the new method of the zombies weaving and swerving he knows it’s only a matter of time before a few of them get through, and that would cause carnage.

So he draws his bow, quickly testing the string and rolling his shoulders. From his pack he pulls out the night vision goggles. The inside of the car park is dark and the bulky goggles help cut down his other senses, giving him a sense of being isolated and detached.

He pulls them on, adjusting the strap and staring down the now bright green ramp, the flames from the burning vehicle giving enough light source to make the vision clear. The only thing that bothers him is the large amount of people now staring at him. They make him feel uncomfortable which he doesn't like.

However he also knows that as soon as the first zombies appears they will be facing down there, and not at him.

From his pocket he draws a pack of sugar free chewing gum and pops one of the little white squares into his mouth. Humming quietly as he reaches back to grasp an arrow, bringing it over head to apply the groove to the string and bring it onto the arrow rest in one smooth movement. He gives a few small practise pulls and with each tug he feels the calming sensation spreading through him.

The assault rifle is good, very powerful and all that but without constant training he doesn't have the precision of aiming and taking down a moving target.

These youths have enough firepower to cut them down on mass, so now he will focus on the ones that threaten to break through.

‘Roy! I said are you alright?’ Paula’s voice breaks through his focus. He nods curtly before turning to face her. Staring at her face bathed in green.

‘Have you got your torch?’ He asks.

‘Yeah why?’ She replies.

‘Just check my mouth, my gum doesn't feel right.’

‘Now Roy?’ She asks gently, ‘we’re kinda busy.’

‘Yeah I know but it just feels weird.’

‘Okay, open up.’

Roy closes his eyes and open his mouth, looking slightly up to prevent the torch glaring into the night vision goggles. He flinches slightly when Paula’s fingers touch his chin gently to move his head left, right then up and down.

‘It’s fine, it looks fine Roy, your gums are pink and healthy…no lumps…no growths or cuts…nope it’s all clear,’ she speaks in a calm voice, again adopting the tone of her own doctor.

‘Thank you…er…sorry I just er…you know.’

‘Don’t worry,’ she touches his shoulder, ‘anytime Roy, really...’

‘They’re coming!’ Someone yells. Roy steps away, switching immediately back to the task at hand.

Bow slightly lowered, arrow nocked and he watches as they appear, charging into view at the bend. Guns open up and fire into them, cutting the bodies down. Left hand on the bow frame, right hand holding the end of the arrow. Watching it all with a feeling of being detached, not here, not part of it.

Bodies get slaughtered and slammed away. Slowly the solid mass start gaining ground and Roy watches with curious interest as the front ranks start weaving left to right but with no set pattern.

If the youths focussed on just firing into the masses they would do well, but they get caught up with trying to track targets and missing. The rounds still strike but they hit more arms, legs and bodies which don’t kill them.

Several break free, charging in that weaving fashion. Roy looses on instinct. The arrow driving deep into the skull of the one at the front. As the body slams into the wall and starts to slide down, Roy is already nocking the next arrow, pulling it back to hold ready. Another one getting in front, he looses and strikes solid straight through the eye socket.

A feeling of clam inside him. Heart rate barely above normal and between shots he chews the gum slowly, enjoying the taste and sensation.

Habit of hand and without conscious thought the next arrow is grasped, nocked and ready. His eyes scanning the bend, not really paying any notice to the death taking place, not realising the solid wall of noise coming from the many weapons firing repeatedly so close to him.

All he watches for are the ones that break free and start making ground. Those are his. Those are his targets. Just like back in the ranges when he was alone and could fire again and again, running between the targets until his legs ached and his hand was cramping.

Loose and the arrow flies true and straight; the power of the missile taking the zombie clean off its feet.

‘BACK,’ Maddox roars.

Roy goes with them, his movement slow and steady, his feet sliding over the ground behind him to be sure he won’t trip.

‘CAR COMING DOWN,’ Paula shouts, he steps to the outside wall to keep a full view of the road ahead.

The sound of an engine reaches his ears, youths shouting and talking but he blots it out, focussing on the solitary figures that weave and dance in front of him.

‘NOW,’ Maddox shouts. Roy watches as the vehicle rolls past him then gently jogs back with the others, reaching the first level of the car park. The car bogs down amongst the zombies this time and doesn't make it to the wall. The effect is still the same and it goes bang just like the first one did.

The ramp flattens out as they reach the first level but they press on, sticking to the curvature to start up the incline to the next level.

The zombies appear within a few seconds, a relentless surge that just keeps coming. Detached and distant, Roy detects that there are not so many weapons firing now. Some of the youths must be running out. Only a few less but given time and they’ll all be running out.

He looses the next arrow and holds his position, somewhere in the back of mind he wonders if there is a way out of here? He hasn’t spent a great deal of time in multi-level car parks but generally speaking you drive up, park and walk down the stairs to the ground level. Those stairs will be no good as the ground will be thick with the zombies.

They are trapped with nowhere to go but up, but that thought is somewhere in the back of his mind and still his heart rate doesn't increase.

Paula senses the same thing. Watching some of the youths holding their now inert weapons. Shotguns and rifles mainly as they still have plenty of assault rifle magazines but those will soon deplete from the constant sustained firing.

Roy’s abilities are stunning and far beyond anything imaginable, and for a fleeting moment it makes her wonder just how many people there were in the world that have simply incredible skills and abilities but shunned any form of limelight.

That thought is banished as quickly as it comes, replaced with a sinking feeling that Howie isn’t coming. Something has gone wrong. Clearly very wrong.

Thirty Eight

‘Why does it feel that this is going wrong? I shout back at yet another column making themselves known ahead of us.

‘The road is clear,’ Dave shouts down. Still in the fields and we’ve been battering our way through the hedges and crossing the rough ground but coming towards a lane we see another dark mass waiting for us. Standing silent and ready for us to pop through the hedge right into the middle of them.

They’ve got smart. Very bloody smart. Every lane and road seems to have another thick column. Tens of thousands of undead, possibly more and they’ve split into solid chunks intent on slowing us down while the others charge in from all directions. It’s almost as if they know our primary weapon is the GPMG which cannot hold off multiple points of attack, and every time we get them into a position where we can cut them down in huge numbers, they simply withdraw and re-group.

As we change course on the field and aim for the road Dave shouts down that they’re moving off, also heading towards the road. I thought we just needed a straight run into town but now there is a growing sensation that we’ve been outwitted and kept occupied. The time we’ve taken to get out of each little skirmish has meant they could have easily reached the town by now, and I can only hope they’ve got the defences up and aren’t relying on us.

‘BRACE,’ I shout, not through worry of impacting with the hedge as we’ve gone through enough of them with barely a tremble. What concerns me is the steep bank down to the road and the impact as we drop quickly, the front wheels taking the brunt but still sending a violent rattling bone jarring jolt through the vehicle.

Once straight I accelerate hard, determined to get past that junction before they burst out. Normally we wouldn’t worry and just plough through but after trying to ground us, I’m now trying to avoid going through any more than a few at a time.

Dave fires as soon as they show, his aiming as true now as ever before and once again I find myself worrying needlessly. The bodies fly off, spinning and crashing as we sweep by, Dave twisting round to fire deep into the junction and take whole rows of them out.

Fixed with concentration I keep eyes forward, the headlights on full to give us the best view possible. Within a few minutes we’re hitting the outskirts of town and seeing the orange glow of fire. The burning buildings illuminate the area and as we come out of the coastal road into the patch of open land before the town we see the signs of intense battle.

Bodies everywhere, some clearly shot down and others in varying states between burn to a crisp and smouldering away with oily fumes coming off them. Even from inside the vehicle the air is rancid; chemicals mixed with burning rubber, oil, fuel and of course that stench of foul meat being cooked.

Slowing down and the lads crowd towards the front, staring out the window at the scene laid out in front of us. Vehicles packed into the junction to seal it off, smouldering with just the metal frames left to melt into the road.

‘GUN SHOTS AHEAD,’ Dave calls down, ‘Assault rifles and shotguns.’ As the road straightens into the High Street we see the back of the horde ahead of us.

Some of the shops are blown apart with clear signs of explosions which must be from the bombs Dave told them to plant. The ground is absolutely covered in corpses with the zombies standing and walking on them as they push forward. There must be thousands of them, all crammed in deep and thick and facing away from us.

Maddox must have retreated up the High Street, setting traps off as he went. God knows where they are now but if Dave can hear gun shots they must be relatively close. But the fact we can’t see them means this horde is by far the biggest yet.

Glancing round I can see some of the vehicles have burnt out which indicates this battle has been going on for some time. They’ve slaughtered many of the undead but with so many left and surging forward they can’t have long left before they get overwhelmed.

Stopping at the start of the High Street I select reverse and pull back as far as I can until there is a decent distance between us but still close enough to fire effectively, then I manoeuvre until we’re facing away so the back is towards the horde.

I don’t even need to give the instruction now as they get the back doors open and drop down to form a line across the back with Clarence in the middle with the second GPMG. Magazines get put down in front of the kneeling lads. I stay close to the driver’s side and make ready.

‘They’re gonna charge as soon as we start firing,’ I say while stacking my magazines on the ground, ‘and it won’t be long before they come from behind us.’

‘I’ll keep watch,’ Dave calls down.

‘We’ll stay here as long as possible…try and get as many down as possible and draw them towards us, as soon as they come from behind us we’ll drive off and try to lure them away.’

‘Sounds good,’ Clarence replies in an absent minded tone, fiddling with the ammunition belt, ‘bet it goes bloody wrong though.’

‘Really? You think?’ I add in a softly sarcastic voice.

‘Nah,’ Lani cuts in, ‘it never goes wrong…’

‘We ready?’ A chorus of soft replies which shows how tired we’re all starting to feel. Sweating continuously and now surrounded by so many foul stenches and bodies. Not a happy place and not a happy time. This place looks like the very worst image of hell and it’s about to get nastier.

‘Dave? You ready?’

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

‘Righto, best get on with it then…’ My finger squeezes the trigger, sending the first shot bursting out the end to spin through the air and into the first skull, and hopefully out of that skull and into another one…but it’s dark so I can’t see, and within a split second of my shot going out everyone else opens up, filling the air with noise, more heat and more smells.

The two heavy machine guns give their dull staccato thuds, accompanied by the slightly lighter but faster sounding noise of the assault rifles. From our combined fire power nearly the whole of the rear rank goes down within a couple of seconds. Then we’re firing into the second and third ranks.

They react quickly, whipping round and as one, in that same synchronised motion, they start the charge. A deep rear section that breaks away to come at us.

There’s only seven of us but our rate of fire is enough to pummel them with ease. Dave and Clarence, both so experienced on the big guns do deadly work with Clarence bellowing up that he’ll do the right side if Dave does the left. With the big guns having a far smaller area to focus on, and the rest of us firing our rifles they go down in huge numbers.

Rows of dominoes falling again and again. None of them get more than seven or eight steps towards us before being felled by a spinning round. Heads erupt, skulls explode, intestines get shot out, limbs shorn off. Blood sprays, gore flies and the corpses mount up. Every single one of those we kill represents a human life. A person who had hopes and dreams and was no different to us. Luck is the only thing that separates us, and it could so easily have been us in that horde and a few of them flinging super-hot bullets into our faces instead.

A dull roar that grows into a rage filled howl lifts from them. Trapped and unable to do anything other than try to get at us. We’re behind you and far enough way to fuck you up. I just hope that whatever mess Maddox and his lot are in, they can hear our guns and take some comfort that we’re close.

‘MAGAZINE,’ Cookey shouts, ejecting one to ram another home, he racks the bolt back and commences firing again. His young face normally so jovial now consumed with utter focus as those hard eyes glare at the things he destroys.

‘ATTACK FROM THE REAR,’ Dave’s drill sergeant voice.

‘CAN YOU HOLD THEM OFF?’ I shout back.

‘YES,’ he replies in that tone that implies utter confidence, fact, no doubt. He can hold hundreds off with one gun.

Dave twists round to open up on that lot while Clarence goes back to strafing across the width of the street. When his belt feeds runs out we have a few seconds of mild panic as we try to suppress the charge with just five rifles but glancing down I can see the big man moves quickly with long practised movements that get the next belt fed in.

The impact of the bigger gun opening up is clear as the charge is put down, but it does mean they got a lot closer and if anything happens to that gun, or it runs out, well, that will be the time to do one and leg it.

‘TIME TO GO,’ Dave roars out and it’s enough to get us moving. Clarence covers the others as I run down to get in the driver’s seat, chucking my rifle into the middle between the seats.

‘GO,’ Lani shouts after a brief pause while Clarence ceases firing to get up into the back, once in he starts up again, getting a few more shots in while I start pulling away.

With the junction jammed up and the coastal road now thick with incoming undead the only option is to aim for the open land and hope for the best. The powerful headlights sweep across the ground, picking out the children’s play area and the streaming figures running through it. We bear left and aim beyond the junction, going round the packed in burnt out cars and a much larger molten lump at the centre of the scorched remains of the fire. Dave continues up top, now aiming at the High Street until the end drops from view then switching to the others coming from the other direction.

Paula and Maddox have blocked the junction too well as it seals us into the area. Sweeping round in a wide circle and the only two ways out are the High Street and the coastal road, unless we can find a way through the play park. Driving closer and I batter through the low fence, getting into the once manicured grounds.

We get through the park okay and then onto a novelty pitch and putt area with ornamental windmills, toadstools and model churches. All of which get mown down or battered aside as I swerve and weave to avoid the thick masses flinging themselves at us. The vehicle takes an almighty battering, bouncing and jolting as it lifts and drops, destroying everything in its path. Aiming for the far end and then veering towards the left I try to guess where the back of that junction will be, trying to batter a way through to get behind it and work through the side streets to the far end of town.

With the constant firing filling the vehicle, the smell of cordite and gun oil, the oppressive heat that sucks all the moisture away it is bloody hard work. The headlights are great but using them means I can only see what they’re pointing at as they ruin my natural night vision. Hard going with many twists and turns, avoiding the larger obstacles. Lani comes to the front, pressing a bottle of sweet syrupy energy drink to my lips. I end up wearing most of it due to the jolts and bounces but some gets into my parched mouth.

She grabs a water bottle to soak a cloth, using it to wipe the back of my neck and forehead. The effect is lovely, so cooling and refreshing and with her gentle hands it lifts my mood.

In the end I aim for a house in the far corner, some kind of grace and favour park keepers cottage lovingly maintained by hard working people. We ruin it anyway, well the grounds and in particular the front garden. Battering through the fence to churn up the nice grass, drive over the pretty flowers bed and smash through the fence on the other side.

They think that’s bad, but we’re just one vehicle and we’re being chased by fucking hundreds of hungry buggers that will pour through and ruin all of the flower beds, still, the ones we shoot down will rot away slowly and maybe give some nourishment to the soil.

Onto a road in front of the park keepers house and the going is suddenly smooth and easy. Clarence shouting that it’s okay as he has at least one unbroken rib left to go.

Clever bastards have come over the vehicles in the jammed up junction and are now coming at us from that direction.

Making use of someone else’s driveway I turn round, miscalculating my speed of approach and shunting into the back of a little hatchback that slams forward into the front of the house, ploughing through the porch and embedding in the frame of the front door.

Reversing out and we get back to facing the other way, Dave twisting his aim to shoot the buggers down that were running up behind us.

I charge on, ploughing the front of the Saxon into the running bodies which splatter and bounce off. Blood and goo splashes over the windscreen making me use the washer and wipers to smear it over the thick glass. Thumps and bangs join the sound of two guns firing. One clever zombie tries to leap high over the front, sailing gracefully through the air before being flown backwards by the rounds of the GPMG splitting him apart.

We pass the park keepers ruined front garden and break out to an empty road ahead of us, now with a thick stream pouring after our vehicle that both Dave and Clarence take great delight in shooting down.

With Lani now at the front helping me navigate the route while I try to avoid destroying everything in sight we get into the side streets and start working along adjacent to the town. Using the now massive fires of the High Street to guide us along. Both weapons stop firing within seconds of each other with Clarence shouting they’ve stopped running.

Now the pressure is on, knowing they’ll either be heading back to the town to bolster those forces trying to take Maddox or maybe even finding a more direct route to cut us off. The silence is blissful, even just for a few minutes and the lads take full advantage to grab drinks and Nick shouting for Lani not to look while he pisses out the back door.

Both Dave and Clarence change magazines, feeding fresh belts in and although I know we got good supplies from the navy ship they won’t last forever and the sheer numbers being sent against us is staggering. Relentless and utterly determined, and it wouldn’t be so bad if they stayed behind us as we could cut them down with ease. But by dropping back and reserving their resources it means we know they will wait to attack on mass again. One or two points of attack we can handle, but multiple points and that’s when we have problems.

‘Did you see that?’ Lani asks quickly as we sweep past the entrance to a side street.

‘No, what was it?’

‘They were running down it towards us, whole street was thick with them.’

‘Nice.’

‘They really don’t like us do they?’ Cookey calls out.

‘Who is smoking?’ Dave shouts down, ‘Nick is that you?’

‘I’m at the back!’ Nick replies in a half apologetic and half defensive tone.

‘I am too Dave,’ Blowers adds.

‘I said they could have one,’ Clarence calls up, ‘give ‘em a break.’

‘Have they got the empty shell casings out…’

‘Yes Dave they have,’ Clarence snaps, ‘it’s hot as hell and we’re on our chin straps so ease up.’

‘We are not on our chin straps,’ Dave replies pointedly, ‘we have hours to go yet so…’

‘Dave,’ Clarence growls with a low warning grumble.

‘Yes Clarence?’ Dave replies but with a very rare edge to his voice.

‘Can someone pass me a drink please,’ Lani calls out diplomatically. As Cookey walks up she motions something with her hands, pointing at me then at something else. A flame is ignited and I glance across to see Lani lighting a cigarette before passing it over to me with a wink.

Grinning I take it and lean towards the open window, knowing Dave will be tutting and shaking his head above us.

I inhale like a schoolboy hiding from the teachers in a second of a shared secret, grinning and trying not to laugh while Lani waves the smoke away. After a few drags I tap the ash and smile at the thought of Lani lighting one up for me, as well as wiping my face with a damp cloth. Jesus. She lit the cigarette, it was in her mouth. I stare down at the end as my heart thunders in my chest.

‘Shit,’ she gasps, ‘put it out.’

The red end swirls into the night but the damage is done. We have shared. Whatever is in her system and on her lips is now in me. She looks utterly horrified, with wide eyes full of tears and one hand covering her mouth.

‘Oh Howie…oh my god Howie.’

My hand finds hers and grips tight, I don’t know what to say except it’s done now. There was no malice or evil doing here. ‘It’s okay,’ I whisper back, ‘Lani, look at me…it’s okay.’

Bringing the vehicle to a quick stop I start to clamber out of the seat, ‘Blowers, you drive. Nick, take over from Dave I need him down here.’

They react instantly and without question. Clarence staring at me with a puzzled expression. Blowers takes over, jumping into the seat and pulling away within a few seconds. Dave slides down and steps to face me as Nick climbs up top.

‘Lani lit a cigarette for me, I put it in my mouth without thinking…’ I draw my pistol and hand it to Dave who just looks at it for a few seconds, ‘Dave, take it…when I turn you’ll have to do me.’

‘What?’ Cookey asks appalled, his voice trembling.

‘It was my fault…I didn’t think,’ Lani cries, shaking from head to toe she looks wretched and mortified.

‘No,’ shaking my head firmly. Clarence just stares at me with utter shock etched onto his face, like everyone has just come to an end.

‘What the fuck?’ Blowers twists round, glancing back between me and the road. Even Nick drops back down, unable to stay up the top. All of them look more frightened than I have ever seen them. All apart from Dave who just stares at me with funny look on his face.

The rear doors slam shut as Clarence seals us in. Meredith staring up at us all with interest, wondering what’s going on.

‘Mr Howie…’ Nick says softly, ‘maybe she didn’t lick her lips or…maybe it didn’t pass…’

‘Nick it’s done mate…’

‘No,’ Cookey shakes his head defiantly, ‘no Mr Howie, no…not you…’

‘Oh god,’ Lani bleats, ‘oh my fucking god…what have I done…’

‘Not like this,’ Cookey keeps going, he slumps down onto a seat staring up with a slack expression of shock, ‘not like this Mr Howie…’ shaking his head he repeats it over and over.

‘Listen in,’ I speak fast and firm, ‘don’t any of you blame Lani for this…not ever…you understand?’ I glare round getting nods from them all, ‘Blowers, did you hear me?’

‘Yes,’ he replies, his voice muted and weak.

‘Good, this has happened and we’ve got to deal with it the same as anything else…’

‘Oh god no,’ Lani weeps, tears streaming down her face. Clarence stretches one hand out to steady her trembling form.

‘When it happens, let Dave take me outside…just me and him…got it?’ Not waiting for a reply I keep going, ‘you keep going, help Maddox and the others and do what we set out to do…find doctors for Lani and Meredith…and kill as many of them as possible…’

‘I can’t….I didn’t think…I just didn’t think, you looked so hot and tired so I washed your face and gave you a drink and…and…I got Cookey to give me a cigarette for you…’

‘It’s my fault…I should have lit it,’ Cookey joins in.

‘No,’ I cut them off, ‘it doesn't matter…none of this is anyone’s fault but those fucking things out there…stay together and keep going, listen to Dave and Clarence and do what they say okay?’

‘Howie no,’ Lani cries harder, the tears streaming down her cheeks.

‘Boss,’ Clarence shakes his head, his voice so low I can barely hear him. He looks awful, white as a sheet with his big hands shaking.

‘Blowers, speed up and find us somewhere to pull over.’

‘Okay,’ he whimpers soft and scared and I feel the surge of the vehicle accelerating.

So many things I want to say, so many things I want to tell them but the words don’t come. The speed of it all, the shock just sends me numb, ‘lads, you’ve done me proud okay…’

‘Stop,’ Cookey sobs, ‘don’t…please…’

‘Cookey, you’re going to be okay…all of you are going to be okay. Stay together and keep going…’

‘Mr Howie,’ Dave interjects staring at his watch.

‘Yes mate,’ I sigh, staring at the man who has saved my life more times than I can count.

‘It’s been well over three minutes, do you have any pain?’

‘No.’

‘No sensations anywhere?’

‘Er…’ I pause, dipping my head while I focus on my own body. I feel tired, hot, very bloody hot and my heart is going like the clappers but other than that…I don’t feel anything, ‘no…nothing.’

‘Then you’re fine,’ he says firmly, ‘it would have taken by now.’ He looks up, his face as devoid of expression as ever.

‘Do what?’

‘I said you’re fine,’ he repeats, ‘it’s almost four minutes now…it never takes that long.’

‘Shit…oh….’ I stare round at the faces staring wide eyed and suddenly I feel like a complete dick, ‘oh…right…’

‘YES!’ Cookey’s on his feet grabbing me while shouting with joy. Laughing more out of embarrassment I give him a quick hug.

‘Sorry about that…er…’ Cookey steps back and I find a big grinning bear coming at me.

‘Don’t ever do that again,’ he rumbles giving me another hug, ‘shit…’

‘Sorry,’ I laugh again, the tension crumbling away, glancing at Dave who tells us all it’s now five minutes.

‘Howie, I’m so sorry,’ Lani says softly. Reaching out I pull her in for a hug, wrapping my arms round her body and smelling the sweet fragrance of her hair.

‘Don’t worry,’ I whisper, ‘if I was going to turn I’d want it to be you,’ I joke.

‘Don’t,’ she snaps, ‘don’t say that.’

‘Er…are we pulling over or not?’ Blowers shouts back.

‘Yes please Simon,’ Dave replies, ‘Mr Howie is driving.’

We all freeze as Meredith starts growling low and deep, her upper lip curling back to show her long white teeth. My heart, just easing off from the first fright has gone straight back up to full on hammering again. Everyone stares at me, the vehicle filling with her throaty growl. Holding my breath I wait for the leap and her teeth to clamp round my throat.

‘Is that the dog?’ Blowers calls out, ‘we just passed a side road with fucking loads of them…how does she know they’re outside? That dog is amazing.’

Swallowing I finally exhale and take a few deep breaths, Clarence chuckling softly and Cookey sinking down onto the seat whimpering to himself.

Nick goes back up to the top and within a few seconds we can smell cigarette smoke coming down.

‘Here’s clear,’ Blowers brings the vehicle to a stop, jumping out as I wait for him to pass, ‘I’m glad you’re okay boss,’ he gives me a quick grin, reaching out to shake my hand.

‘Fuck! Me too,’ I mutter in reply, patting him on the shoulder.

Driving on I keep taking deep breaths, my mind working like a demon as I try to understand if that means anything, if it means Lani isn’t infected, or there simply wasn’t enough on the cigarette end to get into my system. It could be still working into my system now, driving into my cells to start the process. But then Dave was weird, the way he stared at my pistol before taking it and he was so quick to say I was fine.

The rear doors get opened up again as Dave shouts up to Nick, asking if he’s finished that smoke and to come back down. They swap over and I hear low murmurs from the lads as they talk quietly, then Clarence’s deep rumble. They all looked terrified which worries me. They have to be able to keep going if anything should happen to me.

‘You okay?’ Lani asks quietly, leaning over from her position in the front with me.

‘Fine,’ I grin back, ‘that probably means you’re not infected,’ I keep my voice loud enough for the others to hear.

‘We were just saying that,’ Nick shouts up, ‘that’s got be a good sign.’

‘Definitely,’ I reply.

‘Still shouldn’t have happened,’ Lani says.

‘You can probably snog again,’ Cookey laughs.

‘Mr Howie, up ahead we can go left and get back into the town I think,’ Dave calls down, switching our minds back to the job at hand.

I take the junction onto a wide road and work down, recognising the route within a short time as the road that leads to the multi-level car park.

‘Shots ahead,’ Dave calls down again, ‘can’t see anything yet, they’re muffled…must be inside somewhere.’

As the town comes into view we see exactly where they must be from the monumental horde surging into the bottom of the multi-level car park. The street is packed and dense from figures straining to get inside. Bodies stacked back far down the road and more streaming towards them, glowing and bathed from the flames shooting out from the windows of the burning buildings on both sides. A scene of utter devastation but if Dave can hear shots then they must be alive.

‘I’ll turn round,’ I shout out, giving Clarence a chance to get ready to fire out the back doors again.

Once turned I start reversing, taking the Saxon closer and closer to the horde, and the closer we get the more of them we see. They’re straining and pushing, physically driving each other into the opening ramp of the car park. With the back facing them I can just make out the muffled gun shots coming from inside and what looks like thick black smoke coming out from the open sides.

‘Muzzle flashes,’ Dave shouts, ‘second level.’

‘How many levels are there?’ I ask.

‘Three,’ Clarence shouts, ‘top one is open air by the looks of it, they’ll be trapped…they must be holding them on the ramps…’

‘But getting driven up if they’re on the second level,’ Lani adds.

‘Start firing whenever you want,’ I prompt as both guns stay silent. The prompt works and both of them come to life, booming into the air and instantly ripping into the densely packed ranks.

Blowers and Nick kneel either side of Clarence and join in, firing their assault rifles on single shot. Lani opens the passenger door and jumps down with her rifle, bringing it to aim and firing within a second of landing.

That just leaves me and Cookey sat there twiddling our thumbs, with a quick nod he jumps over the passenger seat and gets out behind Lani to start firing.

Left on my own and I feel all left out. So I clamber down and join in with the fun. All of our guns now firing and we shred them to bits.

Sustained and constant firing, a deafening and glorious noise that will hopefully tell Maddox and Paula we’re outside and doing what we can.

The horde don’t react like I thought they would. I figured they would separate and start charging at us, but instead our attack seems to motivate them to get inside the car park. A definite fresh surge ripples through them as they push harder with more disappearing from view.

Realising we could be making it harder for Maddox but there is little we can do other than keep going and with seven automatic weapons going, we’re ripping them to bits.

Changing magazine I glance round to see movement further up the street, figures emerging from the shadows as they charge down towards us. Cursing at how they’re moving so quickly and getting us trapped I shout for Dave to turn round.

Lani and Cookey spin about too and we at the front start directing our fire at the new lot, leaving Clarence and the other two at the back.

‘They’re charging,’ Clarence roars. Looking back and they’ve timed it perfectly. Waiting for the fresh horde to attack from the other side before sending huge numbers from the High Street towards us.

Now it’s frantic. We cannot lose ground either way. Leaving here will be abandoning Maddox and everyone else to certain death and there are still so many of them left, and more arriving with every passing minute.

We can’t leave Maddox. That just cannot happen. They’re trapped and getting overwhelmed and if we stay here we’ll get bogged down and never be able to help them. Other than Maddox, Paula and Roy they are just kids. Fucking hard little buggers but kids nonetheless.

Do something. Do what they are not expecting. Take the fight to them and do it harder than ever before.

‘GET IN,’ I bellow across to Lani and Cookey, pausing while they get into the passenger door, Cookey diving straight over the seat to give Lani room.

Back inside I slam my door and twist round, ‘CLOSE THE BACK AND BRACE.’ They respond instantly, Clarence ceasing firing as the two lads ditch their rifles to the side and lean out to slam the doors closed.

I’m already moving off, pushing my foot down to gain speed as I aim straight for the middle of them. Strung out like they are and I had already noticed they wouldn’t be able to try the grounding trick so I let the Saxon get some kills for a change and roar with pleasure as the beast slams them aside, ploughing through as we crumple, squash and pulverise every figure that’s stupid enough to get in the way.

Using a side street I complete the turnaround quickly, reversing out to drive back down the road and get the ones we missed the first time. The lads crowd to the front cheering as we slam into them again and again. Dave continues firing, rotating round to fire towards the front and then the rear as we sweep down the road.

The car park comes back into view. A solid mass of writhing pushing undead still trying to force their way inside. The section that broke away for the charge had already dropped back to re-join the main horde. On seeing us they charge again, about turning smartly and instantly at the run.

‘Hold on tight,’ I growl, gripping the wheel I keep the speed decent and aim for the middle. The front of the Saxon meets the charge with brutal efficiency and we feel the bumps, bangs and thuds as the bodies bounce off. Some try to jump high to gain the top but Dave has already switched back to firing at the front and he rips them out of the air.

Still going and I veer slightly towards the entrance of the car park, coming in at an angle so the passenger side will be facing the ramp.

Lani grips the dashboard as I show no signs of slowing down, pushing on towards that wall of undead bodies.

They seem to realise what the plan is at the last second, hundreds turning as one to come at us but it’s too late. I drive the front of the Saxon deep into the middle, taking a whole swathe of them away from the entrance. The engine roars as it finds increasing resistance from the bodies squashing with a concertina effect. Driving my foot down and the Saxon responds, driving us further and further into the crowd as we batter them down. Dave firing on sustained and he takes many more out at the sides.

Coming to a sudden stop I select reverse and quickly back up, feeling the jolt as we bounce over bodies. I spin the wheel and push the back end into the middle of the street and aim the front of the vehicle towards the ramp. Back into gear and I floor the pedal again, not giving them chance to react.

They do react and they do it far quicker than ever before, bodies lunging down between the wheels as they try to create a high wall and prevent us moving off. But we still have that little bit of surprise and momentum so we surge over and through them, getting onto the ramp and increasing the speed as we go.

Those undead already on the ramp try to throw themselves at us too but we’ve got the winning hand for now and we push on, slamming them away, running them down and still Dave fires, shooting down the back of the ramp to get anything the vehicle has missed. Rounds ricochet inside the concrete enclosure, pinging off the walls and ground to bounce off the armoured panels of the vehicle.

‘DAVE FIRE AT THE FRONT,’ Clarence booms as we get to the first level and find the entrance to the ramp up to the second level clogged thick. Dave pauses, turns and commences firing again within a second or two. Bodies get cut down as I push the front of the Saxon into them, using the weight and power in addition to the GPMG to force a path through.

‘LADS, BACK DOORS,’ Clarence dives down to his second gun, the rear doors get opened and again the air is filled with the thunderous roar of multiple weapons firing. Meredith barking like mad, desperate to be released from the lead so she can charge out and attack them.

Second level and still they’re thick and heading towards the last ramp to the top level. Lani grabs the loudspeaker handset, pressing the button down before shouting, ‘MADDOX…WE’RE COMING…HOLD YOUR FIRE…’ She repeats it several times as we batter and shoot the undead out of the way.

The powerful headlights illuminate twisted faces full of hate and fury, blood encrusted skin, lips pulled back and red bloodshot eyes everywhere. Gruesome and intensely frightening but the adrenalin is up now and at least we did something they didn’t expect, and took out a whole shit load of them at the same time.

We might now be just as trapped as they are but fuck it, we can fight together and show those dirty diseased bastards that we stand as one.

The Saxon bursts out onto the top level, into the open air and the sight of a thick line of children holding guns high and cheering at the tops of their voices. Maddox and Paula in the centre and now looking very relieved, Roy off to one side wearing a big pair of goggles.

‘You took your time,’ Maddox grins with a shake of his head.

‘We’re here though…there are fucking thousands of them coming…the whole street is full.’

‘You got ammo?’ He asks quickly.

‘Plenty for now, Blowers, get the magazines out to hand round…listen in,’ I shout across at everyone, ‘we’ve got enough fire power to keep them back for now so take the chance for a drink and a quick rest, we’ve got loads of water in the back.’

‘I’ll do it,’ Lani shouts running to the back with Cookey, as Blowers appears with Nick handing out new magazines to the youths with assault rifles.

The armoury has been stripped bare by the looks of it and all the guns we got from the refinery are now up here, and well used too judging by the thick carpet of shell casings on the ground.

The youths look haggard and drawn. Paula drinking from a bottle of water as Roy stands quietly to one side keeping an open line of sight to the ramp.

‘You okay?’ I call out to her, knowing we’ve got a few seconds before they run from the bottom to the top.

‘Very glad to see you,’ she smiles grimly, ‘but there’s no way down other than the way up.’

‘S’alright,’ I grin, ‘let them come to us for a bit, we got enough guns for a while.’

‘But you said there’s thousands…how long will the ammunition last?’

‘Probably not long enough,’ I reply quickly, taking the offered smoke from Nick.

‘So,’ Maddox scratches his head, ‘what you doing here then? We’re all trapped now.’

‘We are mate, but we stand together…that’s how it is.’

‘Very dramatic,’ Lani scoffs as she walks past with a crate of water bottles, ‘just need some theme music to go with that line.’

‘Paula,’ Dave calls out, ‘you did well with the town, good work…’ he adds racking the bolt back and taking aim at the ramp.

‘Thanks,’ she nods.

‘Any losses?’ I ask Maddox softly.

‘Nah,’ shaking his head, ‘one of them cut his finger open on the razor wire and another tripped over but that was it.’

‘Seriously? No losses? That’s very good mate.’

‘INCOMING,’ Clarence shouts from the back of the Saxon.

‘Shit that was quick, they must have legged it flat out up those ramps,’ I say to Maddox as we both run to the back. Dave opens up from the top, filling the roof space with the beat of the GPMG.

For a few minutes it looks like he will be able to hold them on his own as they come out in a steady trickle, but those are obviously just the fitter ones who could get up the ramps quickly.

The rest surge up as one. Presenting a solid writhing mass of undead surging up the ramp to spill out onto the flat concourse. Like a super organism, a huge snake of one form that just pours onto the roof in a never ending wave. Every foot of space between that top ramp and going all the way to the ground must be filled with undead coming up.

Clarence and the lads open fire. The surge is so powerful, so sustained that even with all our guns firing we only just hold them back. Bodies that take multiple rounds to the chest and stomach keep pushing on. Innards and guts spill out but still they charge in. The ones we cut down are trampled and booted aside. Undead work to shift them, not allowing the fallen to hamper their progress.

‘MO MO, Look over the wall, how many in the street?’ Maddox shouts as he changes magazine. Youths come forward to join us, firing whatever weapons they’ve got as the surge is just too strong to hold back.

‘Whole fucking street is packed,’ Mohammed shouts as he runs back.

‘STAIRS,’ Roy yells. I spin round to see the double doors leading to the stair well bursting open spewing another solid massed horde that surge out. Roy fires his bow, slamming an arrow into the front centre. Guns turn to fire at them, reducing the fire power we have to hold the ones coming from the ramp.

The air is filled with solid gunfire. Children shouting at each other and undead howling like crazy, a vicious roar coming from them as they give voice, sensing they are so close to taking us.

‘MAGAZINE,’ Dave bellows and for the few seconds it takes for him to feed a fresh belt in we’re watching them slowly encroach. The body count is mammoth with so many being killed but still they come on.

Every single one of us fires and fires, empty magazines being thrown aside as we scrabble with hurried hands to get new ones in. Blowers running back to the Saxon to dump fresh cases of full magazines down. Maddox gets youths running them to the groups firing. Relentless and utterly despairing as we can all see just how determined they are.

Then they stop and there are no more undead surging out from the ramp. I spin round to see the same at the stairs. Silence descends as we all stare at each other, looking about to see what’s going on.

Mohammed runs to the wall and climbs up, taking care to look down at the High Street without falling off, ‘still fucking packed,’ he shouts.

‘Are they still coming in?’ I call out.

‘Yep,’ he answers.

‘They’re doing something,’ Clarence growls, ‘this is going to be a big push so get ready…’

‘Blowers, get the axes and hand weapons out and ready, tie Meredith to the end so we can unhook her quickly,’ I shout the instruction as he jumps back into the vehicle, passing the axes out and Lani’s meat cleaver.

‘You all got hand weapons?’ I shout to the rest of the group.

‘Only knives and shit,’ Maddox replies.

‘If it comes to it then you take the stairs and we’ll hold the ramp…get the youngest into the vehicle and if you see a chance to drive down then take it.’

‘Me? You want me to drive down?’

‘If you get the chance yes mate, take the youngest and go.’

He nods, scanning his crews as he mentally picks out the ones to be protected, they all look away, not one of them wanting to be taken away from their mates.

Groans come from the ramp and the sound of movement and things being dragged, something flies out of the dark opening to land with a thump on the ground just feet in front of us. The item rolls and comes to rest. The head of an adult male, the face contorted with the lips still pulled back and the red eyes showing. We all stare at it in confusion, then another one comes flying out, then another and within seconds the air between us and the ramp is thick with body parts being thrown out. Torn off limbs and heads starts slamming down amongst us. Sickening and gruesome with blood and bits of flesh spinning off. Several of the youths are hit by the grotesque lumps of meat. A heart lands inches away from my boot, intestines and organs, hands, arms and legs all launched out.

The filthy dirty evil fuckers are ripping the corpses up and using them to batter us. Infected blood and flesh starts coating out clothes and the throws get harder, sailing higher to drip down and land on us.

‘GO BACK,’ I shout, running for the Saxon to pull it out of range of their missiles. Clarence keeps the rest in order, stepping back until we’re free from the barrage.

Laughter floats out from the ramp as I run back to the line. A single solitary laugh that echoes and rolls round the roof space. High pitched and maniacal, others join in slowly at first but building as more and more of the undead start laughing. Loud and sustained and it grows to hysterical all out laughing, the kind of laughing you associate with mentally ill people. More body parts fly out, landing in wet thumps on the ground, legs and arms with bloodied stumps.

The youths look round aghast at the sight and sound. Disconcerting to hear such a maniacal human sound while they tear up their own kind to throw the bits at us. Inhuman and evil, showing us exactly what they are and it sends shivers of fear rippling through the group.

At the top of a shitty grey multi-level car park in some unknown town, surrounded and trapped with thousands of diseased undead. Fires raging down the street, smoke billowing along and clogging our lungs. The heat is still unbearable and sweat pours from our blackened faces. Shell casings lie amongst the chunks of body.

Tears start streaming down the faces of the young. My lads look appalled and horrified at the sight and the laughter grows in intensity. Every undead gives voice, all down the ramps, the stairs and on the street.

Maddox walks into the middle of the group near us and speaks quietly to one of the girls. She looks young and frightened but nods back and follows him towards me.

‘How do you make the loudspeaker work?’ He mutters. I take him over and show him the controls for the handset. Nodding he gets the girl to climb into the passenger seat and carries on talking to her in low earnest tones. She cries with hot tears that spill down her cheeks but she nods and takes the handset, holding it close to her mouth. Closing her eyes she takes a few deep breaths and seems to almost fade away, like her body is here but her mind is elsewhere.

With her hand pressed on the button the air is filled with the sound of her breathing, a soft noise that does nothing to help the situation. Maddox steps away and glares with complete defiance towards the ramp and the noise of laughter coming out.

Children’s heads start being flung out. The faces of the young and innocent sailing through the air to land and roll towards us. Teeth get knocked out of the detached heads, noses broken and the white spinal column sticking out the end. Sobs break out and someone vomits.

Our energy and more importantly, our will to fight is being eroded by the psychological warfare being waged against us.

A long quavering tone fills the air from the speakers as the girl starts singing into the handset, a soft trembling voice that grows in volume and strength until it fills our ears with perfect harmony.

Amazing Grace from a pure strong gospel voice, the long notes quavering perfectly. Every head snaps to the Saxon as the girl squeezes her eyes closed and sings. She gains in strength and confidence as her amplified voice rolls around the roof-top.

They get louder but so does she. They are course and hysterical. She is pure and human, full of love and warmth. Voice soaring and carrying the chilling notes in glorious harmony.

The laughter goes up a few notches but the thousands of voices they have cannot, and will not ever defeat that one girl singing her heart into that handset of an old battered British army APC loudspeaker.

Bodies stiffen and stand taller, the hairs on the back of my neck prickle and stand out. Chills run up and down my spine and for a second I close my eyes and let that sweet voice transport me somewhere else.

Hope is given to all of us. Those that know the words join in and give voice. Clarence looks defiant, his eyes fixed and his jaw set. The lads stare with those hardened eyes at the opening to the ramp. Lani tilts her head back and lifts her top lip. Paula just stares fixed, Maddox looks at his youths and nods.

The girl sings and fills the air with beautiful music made just by her. The undead try and get louder, they try and compete but we win. We have the girl with a pure voice and love in her heart and for that they will always be wanting.

Reaching the end of the song she starts again from the beginning, louder and more powerful this time. The notes longer and stronger, almost as though she knows that sound produced by her will lift our spirits higher than anything else can at this moment.

Movement from the ramp and the laughter ceases as the missiles end. A dragging noise comes and we watch with expectant defiance as the girl makes our chests swell with pride. Adrenalin begins to pump but more than that; a sense of honour, of humanity. That we chose this fight and we chose to do this.

A solid wall comes into view. Dead bodies all prone and being presented to us as a hard compacted wall. The undead carrying their fallen brethren in front of them as a shield. Dave starts firing but even the large calibre bullets have little effect, ploughing into the thick bodied corpses that must be two or three bodies thick. How there are being held is beyond me, but they are. The living dead hiding behind the true dead as they inch forward, pushing the heavy wall in front of them.

Rifles start firing, guns opening up but all we do is send rounds into the dense material of human corpses, maybe a few get through to the pushers on the other side but not enough.

‘CEASE FIRE,’ I bellow, the order repeated as the guns die off, ‘CLARENCE WITH ME…EVERYONE ELSE STAY HERE BUT DO NOT FIRE….DAVE BE READY…’

‘On it,’ he shouts down.

Ditching my rifle I grab my axe as Clarence hefts his, ‘Nick, release the dog.’

He jumps up, unhooking the lead and holding the huge straining animal by her collar. We start towards the corpse wall, walking at first then jogging that builds up in pace as the fury within me is unleashed.

‘NOW NICK,’ Meredith bounds from the back of the Saxon, her legs opening up as she sprints forward with an ever increasing growl that grows into a snarl as she leaps high. The whole wall shudders from her impact alone. Then Clarence and I are there, axes swinging as we roar and hack away. Clarence destroys so many with his strength. Meredith grabs limbs and drags them, twisting and ragging the bodies.

I go berserk and hack away, slamming the axe deep into the bodies again and again. Within seconds the lads are joining us, unable to restrain themselves to stand and watch. Our axes fly and dig into the corpses. Maddox runs in, Clarence hands him his axe and goes to work with bare hands. Grabbing bodies to heave them out and launch them back over the wall.

Roaring with anger the giant demolishes them one at a time. Throwing adult sized cadavers like they are rubbish bags, sailing them over the top to land and crush those on the other side. We focus on the middle, clawing and hacking. Arms get coated with gore and the wall starts to erode as they push on with relentless energy.

Two sides growling and fighting. We rip the middle out, opening up a hole through which we can see just a solid press stretching back into the darkness. Undead pushing and straining as they try to march towards us, driving that wall on.

‘MOVE NOW,’ I shout, we burst away left and right, ‘DAVE…’

The gun opens up, aiming directly for the hole we created in the middle. The rounds whip through and start taking out the undead on the other side while we start working at the edges. Clarence gets another hole created and shouts for the GPMG to be brought to him. Children run down carrying the heavy weapon between them.

Bodies get shoved into the gaps from the other side but Clarence just rips them out again before grasping the big gun, shoving the barrel through the wall and opening up. Strafing left and right. The pressure against the wall starts to slacken as the bullets tear them apart.

‘MORE GUNS,’ I shout, rifles get brought down and we copy the big man, shoving the barrels through the gaps to fire into the ranks beyond.

‘PULL BACK,’ Dave orders. We comply instantly, all of us pulling our guns out to start running back to our line. The wall collapses as we run, bodies falling down as they go back to full on straight charging but this time they’re closer, having gained a few metres from the wall.

We get back and the line opens up, every single weapon firing on full. Meredith pulled away by Nick and she goes back into the Saxon to resume her poised standing. Glancing over and the second team at the stairs are fighting just as desperate as we are.

Slaughtering hundreds of them again and again but they are endless. Arrows flick out and take out weaving runners that break free from the front but slowly they gain ground. Just inches at a time and they have to work to clear the bodies out of the way.

Cookey jumps into the back of the Saxon, running to the front and within a few seconds the opening bars of Missy Elliott We Run This booms out. As with the girl the uplifting strong beat gives us a fresh surge of energy. It makes them angrier and they surge harder but we cut them down.

‘LAST MAGAZINE,’ Dave shouts.

‘ME TOO,’ Clarence adds.

‘DAVE, GET DOWN HERE…SAVE IT,’ I shout up. He nods and jumps up and onto the roof of the vehicle. I grab an assault rifle and throw it up, catching it one handed he lifts aims and starts firing.

Clarence starts on his last magazine. Dave ends his first, knocks it out and slams another home, single shot firing and no doubt getting a head shot with each bullet.

‘WE’RE RUNNING OUT,’ Blowers shouts, ramming another one into his rifle.

‘MY TEAM IN THE MIDDLE WITH ME…MADDOX GET YOUR YOUNGEST IN THE VEHICLE…’ He bursts away, grabbing reluctant children and forcing them into the back of the Saxon. Paula stands with us, firing her rifle with determination.

‘You’re going with them,’ I shout.

‘Staying,’ she shouts back.

‘Nope, we’re going hand to hand in a minute…can you do that?’

‘Watch me,’ she growls.

Roy comes into our group, firing arrow after arrow with an incredible speed. Robotic and fluid and they sail off with utter precision.

‘MADDOX, SEAL THE DOORS AND GET A DRIVER INSIDE IT.’

‘DONE,’ he shouts as he runs back and starts firing again.

‘ALMOST OUT,’ Clarence directs his fire into the middle, driving them back but they just surge and push on.

‘IS THE DOG OUT?’

‘WITH ME BOSS,’ Nick shouts.

‘DONE,’ Clarence stands up, grabbing an assault rifle he starts firing that but without the GPMG going they gain ground quicker now.

‘WE READY?’ I roar out, ‘LANI…’

‘Right behind you…’ she growls.

‘THIS IS IT…WE’RE GOING IN…AND WE DO NOT YIELD…HERE ME? WE DO NOT YIELD.’

‘NEVER,’ they scream back.

‘Dave?’

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

‘You ready Dave?’

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

‘HAVE IT….’ Casting my now empty rifle down I take my axe up, roaring as the rifles are dumped and weapons drawn. Roy rips his mask off and drops his rucksack, pulling his sword out with a look of utter violence etched onto his face.

The clatter of weapons as they fall to the ground, knives, axes, blades, sticks and chains get pulled out. We scream with terror and fear and rage and then we charge.

Oh we charge.

Adults and children who refuse to give in. Maddox proud and strong with a long bladed knife in hand. Dave going low with his arms out behind him, knives reversed. Meredith streaks as she is finally allowed to attack them.

Lani right with me. Clarence striding on with Nick at his side. Blowers and Cookey together as always.

Oh we charge.

Dave leaps higher than I have ever seen him go, his arms stretch out and he turns in mid-air to face back towards us and as he drops down I see a huge grin on his face. He plummets deep within their ranks and sets to doing what Dave does best.

Meredith goes low and drives in between legs as though working to get near Dave. The two of them explode out and start attacking from within as the rest of us hit the line.

Axe out and swinging, taking heads off as we all drive deep to create more damage. The flush of real battle surges and powers us on. The music set on loop and it blasts out as we fight and hack. Youths driving blades into eye sockets and dancing around them. Maddox fights like a demon, stabbing and pushing them aside with his strong arms. Paula uses a big commando style knife, stabbing with utter fury.

Roy swings the sword with glorious energy, driving them back as he slashes and lunges, showing what an amazing weapon the sword is in the right hands.

Blowers and Cookey fight with that brutal efficiency they’ve learnt so well. Always at each other’s sides and despite the constant abuse they give, neither of them will allow anything to happen to the other.

Lani ducks and weaves, as graceful as a ballet dancer. The meat cleaver slices and whispers across throats.

Me? I hack and chop and slice and just batter them down and slowly, ever so slowly I start to feel that sensation coming over me but they too seem to sense it and the intensity explodes as they rush forward towards me. Every undead focusses on me, all of them coming my way. Then they start swirling, not individually but on mass. Like a giant Catherine wheel made up of ranks of undead. Some lines go one direction and other thick lines go against them. Confusion all around and I start to get swallowed up, getting swirled and pulled further into the ranks by the ever revolving lines. My axe flies left and right, forward and back as I cleave them down but they pay no heed and just keep rotating round and round, literally drawing me into their ranks.

I hear my name being called by many different voices but they get further and further away. My feet run to keep up with the pace, desperate not to trip and go down. I yell for Dave, Lani, Clarence and I slash and hack but deeper and deeper into their ranks I go.

The ground drops away and I’m at the top of the vehicle ramp. They’re driving me down into the murky, gloomy depths. I try to hold back and stand my ground but it’s impossible and no matter what I do I get sucked down the ramp.

Dark here and only the tiniest sliver of moonlight gets through. The heat and stench are unbearable. So many rancid decomposing bodies all pumping heat out. My space gets smaller and I lash out round and round trying to drive them back.

Fury and rage spill out of me as I get carried down. I refuse to go any further and focus on those on the ramp above me, not letting them get close enough to push me down.

They surge in harder and faster, low growls and the flash of red eyes picked out by the moonlight. Desperate and sweating so much, alone and isolated getting sucked further down and away from my team.

Against the wall now, pushed hard, battered by bodies slamming against me. Buffeted left and right and trying to swipe out at anything I get the axe into. The side of the wall is rough and I get rammed into it again and again.

Hands start grabbing at me and in the dark I can’t see who or where from but I twist and buck, kicking out as my axe swings and digs deep into flesh.

Something hits the back of my legs and I go down, landing on my back to cycle my legs up and around. Kicking out and still waving the axe but the space gets increasingly smaller as the hot fetid bodies push into me.

One above me bearing down. Just blackness now, pitch black and I’m screaming in utter desperation trying to batter it away. It gets heavier as it pushes down on me. My axe blade bites into the stomach ripping it open then something grasps the shaft and yanks it away, snatching it from my hands.

Without a weapon I heave and push at the heavy body plunging down onto me, imagining the mouth open and the drool ready for the bite. My hands claw at the stomach, feeling the edges of the ragged wound. Gripping and tearing the flesh open and it doesn't matter that I’m surrounded by hundreds, possibly thousands of them. This one will not get me, just this one is all that matters right now so I push my fingers deeper into the hole and grope at the warm sticky entrails within the stomach cavity.

My fingers grasp and twist, pulling wet things out but still it comes down at me. Intestines get yanked out and I fight harder, both pushing him back and trying to rip his insides out with my naked hands.

So hot I can hardly breath, sensations all over me as bodies buffet and feet slam into my sides. One of them trips and lands on the one on me, the weight is too much and they crash down crushing my chest. Twisting and shaking as they try and break free, my hands out of the stomach and groping for the creatures neck. I feel the jaw line and the spiky stubble then move my fingers up to the eye sockets, it thrashes and tries to bite down but I push my thumbs into the eyes, feeling the pressure build up until they pop and spray hot liquid over my face.

I get a hand down to his stomach wound and find another hand is already pushed into it. Our fingers grip and slide against each other as we fight and struggle. The undead gnashing his teeth so I drive my forehead up to head-butt its nose, feeling the crack as the bone breaks and a shooting pain from the impact.

Blood pours down and soaks my face. I twist and shake, desperate to avoid the blood going into my mouth. The hand in the stomach rips free and I feel bony hard fingers searching for my mouth. Teeth clench and I growl with increasing panic as the digits push to open my mouth.

Sharp nails scratch against my teeth but I keep my mouth clamped shut, pain flares from my jaw and my mouth opens as an involuntary reaction. Fingers get inside, prising my jaw open further. I bite down and feel my teeth sinking into flesh and bone. Hot liquid bursts into my mouth to drip down my throat.

Then something else is pushed in. Something hot and beating and spraying blood. The heart ripped from the first undead is shoved into my mouth, still warm and the beats die off as the final bit of energy is expended.

Bloody tissue, thick and firm, hot and sticky with metallic arterial blood pumping into my throat. Drowning I try and swallow it down and keep fighting but my vision starts to go. Unable to breath from the weight on my chest and the heart jammed into my mouth. Tears pour down my face and I reach out to feel a throat, gripping and squeezing with every last ounce of strength I have.

My grip fails, hand dropping weak from lack of oxygen. No pain now, my body is shutting down to try and keep the brain alive. But it’s too late. I’ve ingested so much blood and infected gore that within a few minutes I’ll be one of them, waiting for the whisper of Dave’s knife against my throat.

I think of the lads smiling and laughing in the back of the Saxon. I think of Tucker and Jamie and Curtis. Blowers and Cookey so close to each other, Nick so clever and eager to help. I think of Clarence and how he chose to come with us and be part of our team. We were special. We were something unique for we didn’t run or hide. We all knew the risks and here I am, succumbing to the greatest risk of all.

I think of Lani so beautiful and graceful and my heart soars one final time as I think of that kiss we had. Images race through my mind, Marcy and Sergeant Hopewell, Ted and others from the fort. Big Chris grinning with his white teeth stark against his black beard. Sarah, my sister, taken so horribly and I see her smiling face, my parents too, grinning and laughing as we sat round the table having Sunday dinner.

Then I think of Dave. That special man that saved me so many times. We’ve killed so many of them, but none of it would have been done without Dave. The way he stuck by me through thick and thin, always by my side. He will be heartbroken at this, that he didn’t protect me but he will go on. He will give that protection to the lads and with Paula, Roy and Maddox they will live and succeed.

A final fleeting thought enters my head as I slip away. That there are so many undead streaming past me towards the roof that this could be it, maybe they won’t survive and even Dave will be taken out.

Darkness descends. Final and infinite darkness takes me and I am no more.

Thirty Nine

‘MR HOWIE?’ Dave roars, the loudest he has ever roared but there is no response, just the intense sounds of fighting from all around. This shouldn’t be happening. Mr Howie is the one to fix this. That is fact. Dave knows this. Since he first saw Howie fight back in Boroughfare, then the way he led them in Salisbury, Dave knew Mr Howie was the one to make this better. It was intrinsic and undoubted. Dave had to protect Mr Howie so Mr Howie could fix it.

But for first time in his life he left a nagging sensation of doubt. That he got it wrong. That Mr Howie is being pulled away from him to a place that Dave, despite his amazing talent for killing, simply cannot get to.

For every undead that he kills, more surge in front of him. He fights harder and faster than ever before. Utter sheer brutality at lightning speed as his hands flick and dance, cutting throat after throat open.

He weaves and swerves, ducks low and leaps high. Gradually he gets deeper but still they push in and prevent him. The swirling patterns they make are confusing but Dave knows Mr Howie has been taken to the ramp. He doesn't question how he knows this, just that he does. Mr Howie is in that direction, so that direction is the one Dave takes.

A growing feeling of dread builds in his stomach, a tiny knot of fear that blossoms and spreads through his entire body. Dave doesn't feel fear so the feeling is intense and electrifying. It scares him which just makes him faster and harder, that maybe the faster he goes he can escape the truth that is battering into his head. That Mr Howie is gone, he has been taken.

Dave is scared, fearful and above all else he feels a burning rage. Inhaling long he starts to roar, the drill sergeant voice growing louder by the second.

‘I AM DAVE,’ he bellows, his voice carrying far and wide. He reverts to the tactics taught to him, scare the enemy, make them fear you. ‘I AM DAVE…I WILL KILL…’

Pushing on he fights and kills, just a blur of arms that spin, ‘I DESTROY… I KILL…I AM DAVE…’ But still they drive into him and block his path.

Dave is expert at killing and in the long battles they’ve had together, he knows the undead fear Mr Howie. They wilt from him and show tiny reactions that they don’t do to anyone else. Dave can kill more than any man alive but they don’t fear him, they fear Mr Howie. But Mr Howie has been taken. Mr Howie is alone and isolated. Mr Howie trusted Dave and Dave has failed.

‘I….KILL…I….DESTROY….’ The voice floats clear and deep. Mr Howie showed him respect and kindness. Mr Howie offered genuine friendship. Mr Howie sacrificed himself that day at the motorway service station and no one has ever done those things for Dave. In the services he was just a deniable asset, a machine that was deployed against the enemy. He didn’t have friends and he did what was asked. But Mr Howie chose to fight alongside him. Mr Howie chose to have Dave as a friend. He chose to take Dave with him that night in the supermarket.

He was the one. He was going to fix this. What went wrong? It failed because Dave failed. Mr Howie is now dying a slow painful death because Dave didn’t do the one thing he was meant to do.

Pain inside his heart, sorrow in his soul. A feeling of emptiness grips his gut. Tears brim in his eyes and spill down his cheeks but still he fights on. Because that is all he knows to do.

Clarence casts about, being a head higher than most he saw Howie being sucked into the ranks and bellowed after him. Fighting to try and save him but they were too strong and the swirling motions made them too difficult to fight through. Those near the front got strung out and separated, youths got taken down and trampled. Others fought their way free to stand apart from the mass an stare in horror at what was happening.

Clarence tried again and again to get into them but their motion and constant movement made him confused and lost. Slamming his axe round and round he cleared space but Howie was gone from view. The same sickening feeling spreads in his stomach, the same pain in his heart that Dave feels. Howie is gone.

Howie wasn’t an army officer, he was just a supermarket manager but he was the greatest leader Clarence had ever followed. His ability was immense and something about him drew all these survivors to fight with him and for him.

Now he is gone. Taken and alone. Fighting for himself just to survive but without all of them with him, he cannot hope to live.

It’s lost. Everything is lost.

Tears stream down the lad’s faces, utter fury erupts from them as they plunge in again and again. Fighting without mercy but they cannot make ground. They cannot get into the masses to go after Mr Howie. Blowers screams with frustration, Cookey grits his teeth and Nick fights with wild abandon. Mr Howie saved them that day in Salisbury. He didn’t have to do anything but he fought through that huge horde and then led them to take the Saxon. That man led them day after day and they followed him because of who he was, because of the way he spoke and the sheer passion he projected. They, along with Dave and Clarence, sense his loss. They sense the increasing distance between them.

The boss is being taken away to be killed alone, and there is nothing they can do. They fight and attack, getting many kills but not enough and they feel the growing sense of hopelessness spreading inside.

Lani doesn't fight. She doesn't attack or try to cut them down. Instead she senses they want Howie so she pushes through them. They don’t go for her but do the job they are told to do and swirl and move and create confusion.

Lani goes with it, pushing and squeezing through gaps as she searches for Howie. She knows she cannot fight them off and doesn't care for anything other than being with him. Just to hold his hand while they both get taken. To give him that same comfort he gave her every night, holding her tight as they cried. She knows he is special but to her is special in so many different ways.

So polite, so unassuming but that ferocious passion that comes into him. That drive to win through and defeat such massively superior numbers. Even tonight they could have just driven far away and never had to fight again, but Howie knew those children were up here so he attacked just so he could stand with them.

Howie took that Saxon and drove it into the masses, then fought his way up to the top for nothing more than to give hope. He attacked that wall of bodies as he saw a task that needed to be done so he went at it.

The pain he felt at last night with Marcy was obvious. It was etched into every line in his face. He was heartbroken at what happened, even though he didn’t have any control over it he took the responsibility without complaint.

Lani doesn't know how or why she isn’t infected now but she does know it has something to do with Howie.

She knew she loved him. She loved him dearly and would give her life for him to live another day, another hour, another minute. That’s why she pushes on, just to hold his hand that one last time, so he can feel the warmth of someone that loves him when he goes down, so she can tell him how thankful they all are that he was there, but it’s too late.

Howie is gone. She feels it but pushes on, her heart fracturing into a thousand pieces but she pushes on. She will get to Howie and if he’s dead then she will die too. If he’s turned she will kill him then die too.

Forty

The infection has Howie. It sent wave after wave at them but finally, now after thirteen days it has the special one.

The patterns it created worked perfectly and drew Howie away from the others. It wanted him isolated and alone and in the end an opportunity arose for the purest source of the infection to be passed. Straight from the still beating heart into his mouth, so the blood can drip down his throat and be ingested directly.

It has Howie.

The objective is complete.

Those special few across the world can now be understood and the power they have can be used to take more hosts.

The infection will survive and it will succeed.

Forty One

The infection was in the finger severed by Howie’s mouth. The infection was in the juices of the eyeball that burst and dropped into Howie’s mouth. The infection was in the heart that pumped thick arterial blood into Howie’s mouth.

The infection did what it has always done and attacked the cells. Entering the blood stream it was carried round the body in seconds. Attacking every cell within his form. Organs were attacked. Nerves were attacked. Veins and skin cells were attacked.

The blood pumped the infection into the brain and that too was attacked.

Of all the battles that Howie has been in since the event happened; none of them are as one sided as the battle taking place inside his own body.

The infection drives on and within minutes it is in every part of his body. And within minutes it has turned not a single cell.

Instead, Howie’s body takes the natural anti-body it has and produces more of it. It produces lots of it.

Then those anti-bodies go into the bloodstream and remove the infection. The battle is one sided as the anti-bodies are far, far stronger than the infection. It is eradicated and removed. It ceases to be.

Howie’s heart pumps the pure blood and kills the infection. In turn, the infection senses the loss taking place and tries to counter-act by mutating and burying deep within tissues. But the anti-bodies are ruthless and seek them out.

The infection now knows why Howie is feared.

He cannot be turned.

He is immune.

DAY FOURTEEN

One

‘This is nice,’ Mum grins at me as she places the steaming bowl of broccoli onto the table, ‘we haven't had a family dinner for ages.’

I smile back, pleased to see her happy. Dad walks in and takes his seat at the head of the table. A kind man with an easy nature, he raises his eyebrows suggestively as he picks up the carving knife and sharpening steel.

‘Oh Dad,’ Sarah sighs theatrically, ‘are you going to go through the whole routine again?’

Dad smiles slowly and starts to run the knife blade up and down the steel, quietly humming to himself. The way he does it always gets me laughing, his comical expression adopting a serious face as he focuses on the sharpening.

‘Howard!’ Mum calls from the kitchen, ‘don’t you sit there playing with the knife, that meat won’t stay hot for ever.’

‘Yes dear,’ my dad replies in a sing song, faraway voice that sets me off grinning again. I watch the knife glinting from the sunlight streaming through the net curtains. Up and down, with a soft sound as the blade is gently stroked along the steel.

‘Here Howie, your favourite,’ another bowl is placed down, this one being strategically placed closest to me and filled with Mum’s crispy roast potatoes. Just the sight of them makes my mouth water. I know they’ll be crunchy on the outside but fluffy and white on the inside.

‘Favouritism,’ Sarah mutters with a smile. She then looks up as Mum places a bowl of corn cobs in front of her, bright yellow with butter melting down the sides.

‘You were saying?’ I ask her.

‘No favouritism in this house,’ Mum laughs, ‘Howie has his roast spuds and Sarah has her cobs.’

‘What about me?’ Dad looks up with an expectant expression.

‘You dear,’ Mum smiles, ‘get the sprouts.’

‘Urgh,’ he grimaces and returns to his knife sharpening.

Mum takes a seat, pulling her chair in as she swipes the sharpening steel from Dad.

‘So how’s work then?’ She directs the question at Sarah as she lives in London now and they don’t get to see her much.

‘Good,’ Sarah nods, ‘very busy but yeah, it’s pretty good.’

‘And life in the big city?’ Dad asks.

Sarah half smiles and sighs, ‘it’s okay,’ she replies slowly, ‘not the nicest place in the world but it serves a purpose for now.’

‘So?’ Mum asks pointedly.

‘What?’ Sarah replies with a blank expression, ‘oh, not that again,’ she adds as realisation dawns, ‘noooo,’ she smiles, ‘no men.’

‘Want some beef Howie?’ Dad asks. I look up to see him standing over the joint of meat, holding the blade just above the surface of the meat, ‘it’s lovely and juicy Howie.’

The blade bites in, slicing a thick wedge of beef. The outside of the meat is charred to perfection and the inside is pink with dribbles of blood forming on the serving plate.

‘Look at that,’ Dad says, impressed at the quality of the meat.

‘You do like your meat, don’t you Howie,’ Mum smiles. I glance at her but my eyes snap back to the bloody joint. The cooked flesh that bleeds onto the plate. The knife that saws back and forth, slicing deep, peeling the layers away.

My stomach revolts at the sight and a wave of nausea passes through me. Breathing hard, I realise how hot it has suddenly got. Sweat pours off me, dripping onto the table cloth and I sweep my hand through my hair, brushing the perspiration away. My hand is filthy, encrusted with grime and dirt.

I shove it under the table feeling ashamed that I never washed my hands before sitting down to dinner. I don’t think they notice as Dad keeps sawing at the meat, carving and chopping thick wedges of flesh away. Blood spurts from the joint, spraying onto the pristine white table cloth.

They don’t notice but keep chatting. The blood sprays higher, splashing against the wine glasses and into the bowl of roast potatoes.

Dad smiles but he doesn't look happy now. He looks mean and angry, hacking at the meat harder and harder. Sawing away as his lips purse and a light film of sweat covers his forehead.

‘Go on Dad,’ Sarah urges, ‘kill it…’

‘It’s already dead,’ I blurt out. They all stare at me like I’m five and have just said a swear word at the table. ‘What’s happening?’ I glance round, fear escalating into terror. Pure, unadulterated horror, a feeling of impending doom, that something terrible is about to happen.

‘Gee Howie, you don’t look so good.’ My head snaps to the other end of the table. He smiles with big perfect white teeth, framed by flawless skin and that world famous face.

‘Paco?’ I whimper.

‘Hey buddy,’ he stares at me, ‘you taking care of my dog? Eh, buddy?’ he grins with good humour, winking at me.

‘Oh Paco,’ Mum slaps him gently on the arm.

‘Wh…what…’

‘Mum,’ Sarah stands up, tapping the side of a glass with a fork but she does it too hard and the glass smashes. Shards embed into her fingers, slicing the flesh open. Thick streams of red blood drip down but she doesn't stop, just carries on smashing the fork into the glass to get everyone’s attention.

‘I have an announcement,’ she grins, ‘Paco and I are getting married!’

Mum and Dad are on their feet. Mum hugs Sarah as Dad claps Paco manfully on the shoulder.

‘What about Clarence?’ I call out but my voice sounds weak.

‘Hey buddy,’ Paco grins down at me. He’s very tall with huge muscles that bulge out from a tight top, ‘don’t bring it down Howie, you know what I mean?’

‘Yeah Howie,’ Sarah snarls at me, ‘why can’t you be happy?’

‘Fuck,’ I shout in alarm at the sight of her extended huge pregnant stomach.

‘Howie,’ Dad tuts, ‘watch your language in front of your mother.’

‘Sorry Mum,’ I look over but she looks away disdainfully, making a point of ignoring me.

‘We did look for you Howie,’ Dad says as he stabs a serrated commando knife into the joint of beef, ‘we did look for you.’

‘Yeah Howie,’ Sarah adds spitefully. She sticks her tongue out and looks down at the new born baby in her arms. Paco joins her, staring down at the figure swaddled in a blood soaked blanket. Mum and Dad move in closer and together they all stare down, making cooing noises and smiling proudly.

‘Look Howie, this is your nephew,’ Sarah smiles at me. Standing up I move in and look down, my heart hammers in my chest as another wave of fear rips through me. Horror creeps up my spine at the squelchy mess of body parts my sister hugs in the blanket.  Torn off limbs, fingers, teeth and bits of brain, grey things and intestines, and on top of it is a big heart. The tubes are snapped and torn off but it beats strong and solid, pumping out thick oozy blood with each bass filled beat.

‘We should eat before it gets cold,’ Dad sighs and moves back to the joint. A big shapeless lump of black fur now rests on the serving platter. Dad turns the platter slowly, the face of Meredith coming into view, ‘tongue Howie?’ He asks, pulling the dogs long pink tongue out.

Whimpering I slump down and cover my face with my hands, rocking back and forward on the chair, tears streaming down my face. It’s so hot in here I can hardly breathe.

‘Howie,’ Mum’s voice calls out. Dropping my hands slowly and everything is back to normal, Dad carving the beef and mum taking a sip of wine. No blood or baby parts, no dog’s head and no Paco.

‘Howie,’ Mum calls again. I look up to see tears rolling down her face,

‘We’re so proud of you Howie,’ her hand reaches across the table, grasping mine tightly, ‘we are both so proud of you.’

‘We are,’ Dad reaches out and grasps my other hand, ‘we never got to say goodbye son.’ He smiles sadly and I can see the love in his eyes. ‘But we’ve been watching you and we are so, so proud of you.’ His voice is hoarse with emotion.

Sobs rack my chest, tears streaming down my face, ‘I’m sorry,’ I whimper, ‘I’m so sorry…’

‘Howie,’ Sarah moves to my side and puts her hand onto my arm.

‘I got everyone killed, Sarah…I’m sorry…’ I can’t speak from crying so hard.

‘Shush,’ Mum urges, ‘it wasn’t your fault.’

‘It was…I should have stayed there…’

‘Son,’ Dad interrupts me, ‘listen to me son, we are so very proud but you have to wake up now.’

‘I don’t understand.’ I glance between them unsure of what he means.

‘Howie you have to wake up,’ Dad urges again, ‘this is a dream Howie…you know that right?’

‘No,’ I whimper, ‘I want to stay here with you.’

‘No Howie,’ Mum whispers softly, ‘you don’t belong here yet, not yet my Howie…my beautiful Howie…my son…’

‘Please Mum, let me stay with you and Dad and Sarah…’

‘We all love you very much Howie and we’re watching over you but you have to wake up now…’ Sarah urges me.

‘They need you Howie. Dave needs you,’ Dad adds, ‘the lads need you…’

‘Lani needs you,’ Mum smiles sweetly, ‘she is very beautiful Howie.’

‘She is,’ I grin through my tears, ‘you would like her.’

‘I do like her!’ Mum laughs softly with fresh tears falling down her face, ‘and one day we will meet but not know, not here…you have work to do Howie…’

‘You have to wake up now son,’ Dad says firmly but his voice is choked as he stifles a sob, ‘you’re not here Howie, you’re in the car park in the tunnel…there’s bodies on top of you…’ he speaks quickly, staring at me with earnest, ‘you will die if you don’t wake up and move…you have to wake up and move…’

‘I…’

‘Get up Howie, you must wake up…’

So hot now, there is no air and I know I have to do what they say but I don’t want to go. I’m safe here, safe and with my family. Why should I go when I can just rest now. The last two weeks have been brutal and I am tired, so very tired.

‘Wake up,’ my father jolts me hard, snapping my senses back but they drift off again as the lure of the long sleep starts pulling me back under. He shoves me again, harder this time and he keeps doing it, shoving and pushing at me, rocking my body with hard jolts as he refuses to let me sleep.

Two

He fights harder than he has ever fought before. Controlling his fear he uses it to drive his arms out, spinning left and right, forward and back. He drops and pirouettes as graceful as a ballet dancer. Leaping higher than an acrobat, the deadly blades swipe across throats, opening arteries to spray hot blood into the packed, dense ranks.

Hands slick with blood but his grip doesn't falter. Every step is placed exactly where it needs to be. The undead are slow and cumbersome and they cannot hope to match him.

Dave was born for this. The very essence of him is designed for this purpose. To kill without hesitancy and to keep killing.

Howie is in there somewhere. Howie is alone and surrounded. Dave knows they want Howie. This swirling motion has worked perfectly and has been expertly executed. Rings of undead moving clockwise against a counter flow moving the opposite direction. Swirls and rings all moving at different speeds and making it near on impossible to gauge a sense of direction of distance.

With each high leap he clocks the location of the entrance to the ramp, instinctively knowing that is the direction Howie has gone. The undead simply move without attacking and Dave ploughs on. Killing faster, driving harder. His face determined and utterly ruthless. A glint of fear in his eye, fear of knowing what will happen if Howie is truly gone. If that is the case he vows deep within his soul that he will not rest until the last undead has fallen under his knife.

Something changes. A ripple of energy pulses through the undead, changing the way they move. Dave senses it has something to do with Howie. He knows something has happened. The undead retaliate and get faster, the swirls move quicker. The placid faces change into the ferocious expressions of hunger.

He knows that they’re about to attack again. It’s obvious. They’re being pumped full of chemicals, getting primed and ready to go. Dave keeps on, willing them to turn and start.

When they do he grunts in satisfaction. The swirling motion ends suddenly and they turn to attack, lunging forward with wild howls that fill the air. Clarence roars from somewhere, voices scream and orders are shouted, but Dave has one objective in mind and now they’re not swirling he can finally make progress and use the momentum of their attack against them.

He feints left and right, the blade in each hand whipping out to slash as he jigs and dances through them. Dropping low to scoot between legs, using the falling bodies to leap high and gain get closer to Howie.

Slash, swipe, stab, hack and each blow given is a killing blow. Each step taken drives him closer to the ramp. The darkness grows as he gains the entrance. The press of bodies is pumping out an intense, fetid heat that makes his even his brow break out in a light sweat. Down the ramp and into the tunnel enclosure. Dark now, almost too dark to see but Dave doesn't falter. He knows the human form better than he knows himself, he knows through instinct and long years of solid combat and training exactly where to place the knife, and he knows how each strike will cause the opponent to fall or react in a certain way. It is all pre-ordained. There are no surprises for they are slow and dull witted. They lack individual thought and each one follows the same pattern of rushing in and lunging with teeth bared, thereby exposing the soft flesh of the neck.

His foot hits something hard. He slides the edge of his boot along the object feeling the shaft and broad double blade; Howie’s axe. He must be close. Whatever took place happened here.

‘MR HOWIE,’ he roars, his voice edged with fear. ‘MR HOWIE,’ he screams again, casting about to peer into the gloom. Bodies still thrust into him, only to drop and die quickly as the ground becomes soaked with pints of blood spurting out from so many cut arteries.

In the distance, the constant staccato thud of the GPMG fills the air and the sound of the Saxon engine roaring to life. Clarence must be organising an attempt to retreat and leave.

There are bodies on the floor here but Dave can’t tell if they’re from the previous battle or something to do with Howie. Too dark and his arms are kept busy killing as he gains fleeting glimpses of the corpses littering the floor.

‘HEADLIGHTS,’ Dave roars with unbridled power, ‘GIVE ME LIGHT.’ Seconds pass before the tunnel is lit. The press of bodies block the light from flowing through, but just enough reflects from the ceiling of the tunnel for him to see what he is doing.

The engine of the Saxon raises in volume, they’re going to be bugging out which means they’ll be coming down here, and the only way to do that is to fire into the central part of the packed ranks of undead.

He has to find Howie. He must be here somewhere. He drops down, using one hand to pull bodies over while his other flicks out keeping the lunging undead at bay.

Sweat drips from his red face, breathing becoming harder from the heat. Bodies get turned and kicked aside. Heads grabbed to be examined for the briefest of seconds.

Frustration builds as the undead press their attack harder, keeping him too occupied to concentrate on finding his leader.

Dave rarely feels anything. His mood is level and constant in the most trying of times. But tonight he has felt fear and right now, he starts to feel rage building up. Rage that these things are preventing him from doing what he wants to do. They just keep coming and coming in a relentless wave and there is no space to do anything.

Every time he tries to shove a corpse he finds another zombie lunging in. The rage and frustration build and finally explode. Dave reverses his knives and goes to work, spinning with utter savagery to slice into every throat he can reach. Arms spin and his body weaves and dances. The blows are harder now, much harder than normal as he uses the violence of the rage to drive him on.

Within seconds he’s cleared a space and the mound of cadavers slow the ever advancing horde. Taking the few seconds he has created, he moves swiftly back to the pile of bodies, driving his hands deep into the rotten soft corpses.

There. A patch of dark, curly hair that he would recognise anywhere. Howie buried under two huge bodies. Dave yanks them away and stares down at the blood encrusted face of Howie. His fingers prise the human heart from his mouth and flings it away. Howie is Inert and without response. Dave wipes the filth and gore from Howie’s face and turns with a snarl as the horde gain the ground he just cleared.

Howie is here and he’ll be damned if they’re having him back. Dave doesn't know if Howie is alive, dead or turned but what matters is that Howie is by his side again. Grasping his shoulders, he quickly heaves him to the side of the tunnel and turns back as the attack surges in. Standing his ground with Howie’s lifeless body behind his heels, he fends them off, refusing to let them have his beloved leader.

The Saxon screams out and starts moving, the lights wavering and dancing and bodies all around start being ripped apart from the heavy calibre bullets flying through the air.

The undead turn and start towards the new threat, intent on preventing the vehicle from escaping. Dave drops down, grabbing ruined corpses and dragging them over to pile on top of Howie, taking care to keep his head and chest clear so he can breathe.

He gets in close, using his own body and those he has just killed to create a protective barrier over Howie’s form. The GPMG drops more undead which Dave grabs and heaves over to pile up. As the vehicle comes into view he hunkers down. His quick mind has already thought of trying to get Howie into the vehicle, but he knows that only by keeping the forward momentum will the Saxon get through. So he does the next best thing and protects him from the heavy bullets whilst waiting in the stifling darkness.

More bodies fall under the constant firing, the sounds become muffled and distant as both Howie and Dave start getting crushed under the bodies. Dave fights to keep the pressure from Howie’s chest and keep his mouth clear. He uses the bodies as a shield, leaving just enough space for Howie to breath.

The crush of the bodies builds as the death given out above sends the corpses onto the pile but Dave refuses to give in. Bracing himself with tears of pain streaming down his face he holds still, taking quick gasps of heated air as he desperately fights to keep the press from Howie’s upper body.

Pitch darkness now and time passes slowly. Just the muffled thud of the GPMG as it sweeps by, voices distant and weak. He waits, holding steady with a fierce grimace.

The weight on his back is immense and pushing him down harder and harder. Time stops.

Seconds become minutes and gradually the sound of the GPMG drifts further away. Mr Howie will be pleased to know the vehicle got away. Only a few lives may have been saved but that’s enough.

He waits and holds steady, knowing that the tunnel and parking levels will still be thick with the undead. His knives are gone, dropped somewhere during the desperate movement to drag the bodies into a shield. He has one more knife attached to his belt but that comes later. All he has to do now is wait and hold these bodies away from Mr Howie. One hand planted either side of Howie’s head, his knees driving into the hard concrete and he holds them off. Hands burning with pain, his back feels like it will snap in half any second, sweat pours from his face and tremors start shaking through his limbs.

In the absolute silence that follows he becomes aware of a very faint feeling of air being moved in front of his face. There are too many bodies packed in to allow any form of breeze or wind so there is only thing it can be. Dropping his head to listen, then feels the softness of warm breath blowing against his ear. Faint but there.

‘Stay alive Mr Howie,’ Dave murmurs as quietly as he can, ‘just stay alive.’

Three

Lani’s method of ignoring the undead and simply driving through them works well, in fact it works too well. Keeping low and moving fast she ducks and weaves through the swirling ranks, letting their momentum carry her a few feet before forcing into the next ring and being swept along. As Dave slaughters she gently works further in, plunging into the darkness of the ramp, knowing Howie was taken in this direction.

The heat within the enclosed ramp is staggering, making her wilt and gasp for breath. Groans from every direction and the constant shuffle of feet scraping along the floor. Course shouts and voices screaming out from further back on the top level but she pushes on, feeling and groping her way through the ranks.

As a human heart is forced into Howie’s mouth, stifling his screams and filling his throat with fresh blood, Lani stumbles by. Just inches away but with the dense ranks, the lack of light and the ground already covered in bodies she has no hope. But still she works on with an ever growing fear of failure inside her stomach. Even if she finds him, it might be too late. He could be dead or turned and with so many hundreds, possibly thousands, of undead still surging in she has no hope.

Down the ramp and she finds herself on the second level of the car park. The undead here don’t swirl or turn but simply push on, driving the train further to the top level.

They don’t attack and they pay no attention to Lani as she pushes and shoves through them. The outer wall ends as the ramp gives way to the second level parking zone. Like an unwanted guest, she is forced to the side and away from them.

The relief is immense. The crushing sensation of being trapped within so many rotten bodies is lifted and the stench of the undead breath becomes fresh air. Filthy, bedraggled and gasping for oxygen, she staggers free, walking further into the car parking level. Moonlight streams through the open sides, orange flickering from the ceiling and walls due to the flames of the burning buildings in the High Street.

Maybe Howie got here and broke free like she did. She casts about, searching the shadows and running through the many sections. Tears stream down her face at the thought of losing him. It doesn't seem real or right. Howie wouldn’t go down like that, not like this. He was the one to fix these ranks away from everyone else.

Nobody could survive against that many. Maybe Dave but they weren’t after Dave, they were after Howie. He was gone, lost, dead.

Shaking her head, she refuses to accept it. Howie is alive, she can feel it. She doesn't know how but something deep inside tells her that he is alive. They fear him for a reason, for something he has that no one else has got. What that might be is beyond her frame of mind at this time so she runs on, continuing to search for Howie.

Light and sound fill the distance behind her. The sound of firing and the powerful headlights of the Saxon. The GPMG blasting into the ranks to force a path. She spins round catching sight of the vehicle as it powers down the ramp, forcing swathes of undead out the sides to spill onto the parking level.

‘WAIT,’ Lani screams and starts sprinting towards the ramp, cursing herself for going so deep into the parking area. Shouting again and again but she knows the sound of the machine gun and the close quarters fighting going on behind the vehicle will be drowning her out.

The undead forced out from the ramp fill the space between her and the descending Saxon. Almost too late she realises that they’re not just swirling and moving now, but have reverted back to the full on attacking monsters, teeth bared and faces contorted with primeval rage.

Coming to a hasty stop, she grips the handle of the meat cleaver and starts moving away. Several break free from the group to surge towards her.

With a vicious backswing she takes the first one down, driving the sharp edge deep into the throat. Dropping and spinning round she comes up behind the next one, slamming the cleaver into its ankle and almost driving the blade clean through the bone. As the body falls she kicks it hard, forcing it into the path of another one lunging in. It goes down with limbs entangled and Lani wastes no time in slicing its throat as she backs away.

They keep coming, charging towards her but she’s fast and light, and like Dave she moves with power and grace. Feinting left to get them lunging that way, only to jolt right at the last second and chop down, severing through the spinal column.

Grunts of exertion sound out as she keeps backing away, sensing the ever increasing size of the horde spilling out from the vehicle ramp. The Saxon has gone and even the thud of the GPMG is dull in the distance.

They surge in as fast and as mean as ever before. The silvery moonlight giving them a look of pure horror. Yellow flickers dance from the flames still raging and she fights quickly, knowing she’s about to be overwhelmed.

Three come in fast, two males and a female. She ducks and slices deep into one of the males groin, driving the blade deep to open the vein. Coming up from a spin, she grabs the female undead by her long, blood soaked hair and yanks her head back, forcing the undead to stagger backwards and using her as a shield. With one hand guiding the zombie woman she feints and moves as more come in hard. The female she grips lashes out, thrashing her hands with violent motion which serves to batter at those lunging in.

Losing ground with every second, Lani keeps swinging out and finally shoves the woman into two more lunging in. They all go down in a heap but the size of the group coming in is just too much. Alone, separated from her team, she screams with fury and charges in for the attack, refusing to let herself be cowed by the presence of so many undead.

Howls rip the air apart, low growls that rise in pitch and volume. Animalistic and guttural. Body after body falls under her cleaver but more fill the space, backing her closer to the wall where there is no further space to retreat.

They sense her fear; they know she will be taken. There’s nowhere else to go now so they come in for the final charge, unabated fury pumped by harsh chemicals released from glands on overdrive. The infection raging and pushing the hosts to get this finished, take them all, destroy them and be done with it.

A nasty place to die, Lani muses to herself. A filthy multi-level car park in some shitty seaside resort that had its heyday thirty years ago. Alone, without Howie, without any of her group. Having survived being bitten once and to end like this. Fuck it. Fuck them all.

Lani roars with defiance and fights back, swinging her cleaver with wild abandon. Adrenalin courses through her body, her heart pumping to drive her on and overcome the fear of her imminent death. Howie must be alive, he must be, so everyone one of these killed means one less that can hurt him.

But as strong and as fast as she is, the numbers are simply too great and their violence simply too strong. The adrenalin eases off, the rage burns out, fear grows and a sudden longing to be anywhere else rises. Somewhere warm and beautiful. Images of her homeland fill her mind; the lush green jungles and the white sandy beaches lapped by crystal clear waters.

No coming back from infection this time. She beat it once and god only knows how that happened, but this time they will tear her apart. She can see from the violence of the charge that there will be no gentle nip, no sensual kiss of death while they hold her gently. Her form will be ripped apart as hundreds of filthy mouths take deep, savage bites.

Her arm becomes heavy and slow as the finality of her life becomes apparent. If she was on the line with her team she would never falter, but the very fact of knowing she is done for saps her strength faster than ever before.

A new sound reaches her tired ears and her sad eyes look up as she strikes out feebly. Sweat stings her eyes, hair plastered to her forehead.

Barking. Deep, powerful barking coming from the beast that never tires. Meredith barks loud and strong, letting Lani know she is coming. Lani’s heart beats stronger, fresh energy pulses into her limbs. Meredith barks and fills the air with her growls, then she’s upon them with a snarl. Several undead are removed from their feet as the almighty power of the dog drives into them at a flying leap.

Her jaws go to work, grip savage and shake, grip savage and shake. Her snarls and growls are louder than theirs, her strength greater, her speed faster. Lani is the only other female in the pack and Meredith fights to protect her.

Her pack are separated and spread out, but now they are two and two can fight better than one. Meredith gives voice and tells them who she is. She tells them she has killed many and will keep killing them.

Lani fights with vitality, just knowing Meredith is with her. That pack instinct is as strong in the human mind as it is within the animal. Something to fight for, something else to protect and defend.

The two females of the pack destroy the horde coming at them. Big undead males, strong and pumped up with testosterone but they all fall from the deadly cleaver and even more deadly teeth. Two females, hot, tired and pissed off, unleashing hell within the parking level.

The undead find that they are no longer gaining ground, but are being forced to give it. Pushed back as the energy of the two bursts from their souls. Lani screaming with defiance and working straight ahead while Meredith bounds in loops round her, keeping her flanks and rear safe.

Onto the vehicle ramp and they fight down, plunging further into the darkness. The heat of battle surges through them and just enough light comes through the open sides to see the foes as they present themselves.

Having gone after the fleeing Saxon, the crowds of undead have thinned out considerably and the two find themselves dealing with less and less adversity as they work their way slowly down onto the first level and move away from the ramp into the parking area.

Breaking free from the fight they move quickly, running to gain distance before turning at the far corner and realising none of the undead have come after them. Gasping to gain control of her breathing, Lani spits and bends double, the meat cleaver hanging from one hand as sweat pours from her brow.

Meredith pants noisily, dragging ragged breaths in and her long tongue bounces as it lollops down from her mouth. An incredible thirst rages in Lani, a dry throat that sucks all the moisture from her mouth. The heat is unbearable, truly draining and her legs feel week, shaking from the after effects of the constant fighting and running.

Meredith’s stare is fixed towards the ramp. Every few seconds she holds her breath and cocks her head to listen, and only when satisfied there are no threats does she continue the noisy panting.

Feeling dizzy and faint, Lani backs to the furthest corner of the parking level and rests her back against the wall. Her legs give out and she slides down with fresh tears making tracks to join the rivulets of sweat pouring down her cheeks.

He is alive. She knows it. He must be alive but the only problem is where? Completely drained and unable to summon the strength to keep going, she wills herself to get up and find him but the energy expended from her body is claiming the high cost. Hands shake as she lifts the bloodied meat cleaver and even Meredith sags down next to Lani, positioning herself to face the ramp.

Lani reaches over to push her fingers through the long thick fur of Meredith’s back, feeling the hair and the warmth coming from her body.  Licking her dry lips she tastes the filthy metallic tang of blood in the air. Dreaming of fresh cool water, iced lemonade or a cold can of coke, she feels the first pull of sleep tugging at her eyes.

The darkness, the heat, the exhaustion all working in conspiracy to lull her senses into a relaxed state. Her mind fooling her into believing this little dark patch right here, against the wall is safe. Quiet now too. No sounds of fighting, just the distant sound of voices shouting and the far off crackle of fire burning.

With one hand buried in Meredith’s hair she closes her eyes and drifts off, her last conscious image sees Howie safe and well, holding a cold bottle of water out for her.

Four

‘Where did he go?’ Blowers shouts amidst the carnage of the battle.

‘Dunno,’ Cookey yells back as he swings out with his axe to take another one down, quickly twisting the shaft in his hands as he takes the backswing and cleaves another skull open.

‘Why aren’t they attacking?’

‘Dunno that either,’ Cookey replies, hacking at a female with half her face missing.

‘Can you see him?’ Blowers asks after a pause of glancing between the swirling ranks, ‘he went that way,’ he motions with his head as Cookey glances round, nods and starts attacking in the direction indicated.

The two lads hack a path through the rotating circles of undead, scoring kill after kill but for every one taken down there are scores more. The constant motion confuses them. The ranks are too dense to see anything else or to gain an idea of direction and again, within seconds, they’ve lost the route they thought they were taking.

‘BOSS?’ Cookey yells out, ‘MR HOWIE? DAVE? CLARENCE?’

‘LADS?’ Clarence’s deep voice floats from somewhere but again the actual where is lost in the confusion and chaos surrounding them.

‘This is like fucking fog,’ Blowers curses and takes a vicious swing, as though to chop them away and create space to see, but again they fill the gap and keep moving round and round.

‘What do we do?’ Cookey shouts as he slams the end of his axe shaft into the nose of a big male zombie with a bald head.

‘What you asking me for?’

‘You’re in charge aren’t you?’ Cookey shouts back.

‘Me? Fuck off!’

‘You are, Mr Howie said you were like in charge…so do something.’

‘Er…fuck it…we’ll pick a direction and just keep going.’

‘I thought that’s what we were doing,’ Cookey exclaims.

‘This way,’ Blowers roars and starts attacking with fresh vigour, pausing to let Cookey fall in at his side. Always side by side. Blowers on the left and Cookey on the right. They never changed and it was instinct to fight this way. When Blowers lunged hard left, Cookey kept an eye on the front. When Cookey swept and hacked towards his right, Blowers would take a step forward to offer a degree of protection.

Blowers had a habit of just slightly over-extending with some of his swings, something that Cookey recognised and covered for. Blowers also reverted to his boxing training and several times had started punching out when they were cornered. Cookey knew he did through instinct and he would shout and step in front for fear of his friend cutting his knuckles open.

For his part, Blowers watched Cookey like a hawk. Cookey was jovial and funny and brought light to their group in the darkest of times. But Cookey also wore his heart on his sleeve and it reflected in the way he fought. If he was happy and buoyant, the lad would swipe and hack with ruthless precision. When Cookey was upset, he became a tiny bit uncontrolled, taking wilder swings and exposing himself to greater risks. It was only by fighting alongside him for so many days that Blowers had picked up on this, and now with Mr Howie gone, Cookey was starting to show his anger and fear.

‘Shit,’ Blowers shouts, picking up on the energy change rippling through the undead. The faces becoming warped and contorted with rage. They fight harder, hacking side by side to forge a path through the ranks. Not knowing which direction they’re going but knowing that staying in the middle is no longer an option.

‘Oh dear, oh dear oh dear,’ Cookey replies, desperately trying to keep the fear from his voice. Mr Howie is gone, sucked into the darkness to be taken away. Right now there isn’t time to think, just to fight and get away before they turn and start…

‘NOW,’ Blowers screams as area around them erupts into a frenzy of savage beasts lunging to take wild swipes and bites at the lads. Pressed in on all sides they go back to back, each one of them swinging out left and right. Blowers still trying to forge a path through the ranks as Cookey keeps back stepping.

‘Don’t fucking push me,’ Blowers seethes from the constant pushing of Cookey walking into him.

‘Well fucking hurry up then.’

‘I’m fucking trying.’

‘Try harder fuckhead.’

‘Cookey you twat, that big fucker almost got me.’

‘I had him!’

‘Fucking hell you are slow as shit.’

‘Get fucked Blowers, stop looking at their arses and try killin’ them instead.’

‘Where the fuck is everyone?’ Blowers shouts after a few seconds of frantic fighting.

‘No idea,’ Cookey grunts, ‘just keep going.’

The axe shafts become slick with blood, the two lads gripping with tight fists. The edges of the axe blades start to dull, the constant hacks and swipes through thick cartilage and bone taking their toll on the weapons. They still do deadly work but each strike needs more force to bludgeon and chop. The relentless action drains energy, sapping strength from arms, burning coursing through shoulders. Sweat drips into eyes causing blurred vision. Legs stumble and feet trip over the downed corpses. The banter is gone, just loud grunts expelled as they keep hacking and cleaving into the never ending flow of lunging zombie faces coming in harder and harder.

Then they’re free, bursting from the side into open space. The force of the ejection sends Blowers staggering several steps and only just managing to right himself. Cookey, feeling the sudden loss of Blowers behind him doesn't fare so well and goes down onto his arse. The lad never misses a beat and doesn't flinch but keeps hacking away.

Several come after him, lunging in at seeing him down. Blowers is there in an instant, charging in to buy his friend the few seconds he needs to get up. Cookey springs to his feet and goes back in, fury and anger pulsing through his body.

Dave screams out for headlights, his voice carried loud and clear from the entrance ramp. Seconds go by before the powerful headlights of the Saxon are on, casting fractured illumination through the ranks.

A split second later the GPMG starts up. Both of the lads yelping as they dive away from the crowd, cursing whoever is firing for not shouting a warning.

The familiar noise of the engine bursts into the air, filling the roof space of the car park with sound.

‘Who the fuck is that?’ Blowers shouts.

‘Why do you keep asking me stupid questions?’ Cookey whines shaking his head, ‘how the fuck do I know who it is?’

The Saxon starts pulling away, the GPMG firing into the dense central section of the crowd to create a path. The two lads stare at each other, both of them sensing they are about to be left alone on the roof.

A piercing scream breaks the air behind them. The lads spin round to spot a thick wave of zombies pouring through the door to the stairwell. The few youths left on position are overwhelmed, several taken down to be bitten and savaged, screaming with pain and horror.

Within a second they are full on sprinting, both of them reacting at the same instant. The vehicle might be pulling out, it might be forging a path to escape this utter terror, but the sight of children being taken down to be ripped apart causes an instinctive reaction.

Axes gripped and held high, legs pumping and faces fixed with determination. They roar, side by side as they plough into the undead. Using momentum and violent swings they force the undead back, kicking, punching, lashing out left and right.

More come through the door, Blowers glances round catching a glimpse of the Saxon pulling away with a line of survivors behind it fighting out. If these undead get through the stairs door, they’ll be attacking the rear of that line. Within that line Blowers spots the huge form of Clarence swinging his double bladed axe. They lock eyes for a split second, Blowers nods.

‘THE FORT,’ Clarence bellows. Blowers nods again. If the Saxon stops they’ll lose the momentum and get bogged in. If Blowers and Cookey try to run for them, this lot from the stairs will surge in.

No choice, this line has to be held. Turning back he shoulders in next to Cookey and joins him at the wooden double doors. They fight on, slowly pushing through until they gain the top of the wide concrete stairs, using the height advantage to hack down into the horde coming up.

The bodies mount and again create a natural obstacle for those undead still trying to clamber up the stairs. The lads take the opportunity and drop down to the next landing, taking ground and fighting on, dropping more bodies to fall and encumber those coming up.

The stairwell is darker, and as with the vehicle tunnel, the hot, foul air is trapped, building the heat to a staggering temperature. Losing valuable fluids with every second they fight and swing, step and swing, trip and curse with increasingly dry mouths. Unable to spit or speak, their throats burn and their eyes sting. Heads pound with pain as the dehydration builds. The ferocious action is relentless but they don’t falter. They have the upper hand and they press that advantage home. Both of them ignoring the intense discomfort to wreak havoc and drive the undead back down the stairs.

The concrete walls, the concrete steps, the handrails all drip with blood, gore and bits of body. Blowers feels the dampness of hot blood on his trousers, Cookey scowls as his top clings to his frame from sweat and fluids.

Down they go, reaching the next landing, winning their small war against the undead. Snarling with fury they hack and kill, bursting skulls apart and kicking out to ram the soles of their boots into noses.

Past the doors to the next level, with no idea that Lani and Meredith rest across the expanse. Believing everyone else has gone with the Saxon they press on, determined to reach the bottom. Fuck it, there might be another thousand of them waiting and they’ll probably end up just fighting back up to the top but they can do it. The two of them can take these stairs. Their own private battle. The two lads acting as one against the undead. Both of them refusing to let the utter exhaustion slow them down and sheer stubborn pride pushes them on.

The last flight and the darkest part with no ambient light coming in. Sordid and dirty, the gritty reality of the situation starts to hit them. What happens when they reach the bottom? How the fuck will they get away? Neither Blowers nor Cookey blame Clarence for leaving. The children had to be saved and they know the chances of walking away from something like this are very slim.

As a unit, together with the others they have survived incredible odds but that was as part of something special with Mr Howie and Dave. When Mr Howie went into that zone nothing could stop him, they’d all seen it time and again. But Mr Howie isn’t here, Dave and Clarence aren’t here. Or Nick or Lani or Meredith with her strong jaws.

Just the two of them, fighting with an ever growing sensation that all is not well. The team have fractured and splintered and for the first time, they both genuinely feel this really might be it.

The last few steps down and a sliver of light comes through the dirty glass panes of the double doors leading out onto the street. They cut the last few down and stagger those final few steps to the doors. Both of them staring with hard eyes, waiting for the next surge to come powering through.

‘I ain’t going back up,’ Blowers growls, ‘fuck that mate.’

‘Kay,’ Cookey mutters, too exhausted to argue or even reply with anything funny.

‘We’re going out,’ Blowers adds.

‘Kay.’

‘Fuck ‘em.’

‘Kay,’ Cookey tries to spit but his mouth is too dry. He coughs to clear his throat but it is too dry, even swallowing causes pain now. No longer sweating either, his body has ceased to waste fluids and instead diverts them to the essential internal organs. With no ability to sweat, his body will soon become over heated. Heat-stroke and exposure are setting in and any further dehydration will lead to hallucinations. The thought of doing anything is beyond him, so instead he’ll follow Blowers because Blowers is his mate and that means something.

It means the exhaustion and the dehydration can go fuck themselves. The pounding headache and can kiss his arse. The thirst can piss off and annoy someone else. He nods, a grim act with a pursed mouth and a brow set. He won’t fail now. Not yet. Maybe in a few minutes when they charge outside and hit the enormous horde waiting for them. Maybe when his arms can no longer swing and his legs can no longer kick, maybe when he falters and goes down and they come in for the bite, maybe then he will fail.

But not now. Now he readjusts his grip on his axe and looks over at Blowers. Blowers stares back at his friend for a second. He feels exactly the same way, his own body mirroring that of Cookey and no longer sweating.

They turn to face the doors, lips curling up into snarls. They could stay here and wait it out, maybe go back up and try to find some fluids. There are several options that do not involve charging out of these doors into certain death, but that is not the way this team work, and that is not the way Mr Howie led them to be.

The undead are out there. The dirty, fetid, diseased undead.  And not too far away there will be an old British Army armoured personnel carrier travelling slowly back to the fort, with a trail of desperate children running behind it. So for that reason, they will go out and create merry hell, they will scream and roar and bring the attention onto them. That is the team’s way and that is what Mr Howie would do.

‘Ready Cookey.’

‘Yes Mr fucktard,’ Cookey replies.

‘HAVE IT,’ Blowers screams, launching himself at the doors with a violent yell. His axe hits the doors first, then his body which slams into the hard wood and bounces back off to fall into heap on the bloodied and mangled corpses.

‘It open inwards you fucking idiot,’ Cookey bursts out laughing, hard guffaws that bring him to his knees at the sight of a demented Blowers screaming blue murder, only to bounce off and fall flat on his arse. ‘It…fucking hell….you fucking dick…’ Cookey gasps for breath, bent double as the laughs bursting from his throat cause him physical pain, ‘opens inwards…oh fucking hell….that’s the best thing ever…’

‘Fuck off twat,’ Blowers slowly gets to his feet, retrieving his fallen axe. He stares at Cookey for a second, a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth at the sight of his mate bent double crying with laughter, and he starts to chuckle at himself. Feeling a slight burn in his face at the heroic image of bouncing off the doors.

‘Have it…’ Cookey repeats his final words through ragged breaths, ‘he said have it…oh it’s too much….I fucking wish everyone else was here…’

The laughter is as infectious as the virus carried by the undead, and within seconds Blowers is exhibiting symptoms, tears streaming down his face as the nervous energy is expended. Both of them leaning against the wall laughing harder and harder, and the more they go the more they set each other off.

Nearing hysteria with a few genuine tears mixed into the ones caused by laughing, they start to bring themselves back down. A deep sadness pervading their souls as they take stock of the awful situation. With no idea where any of the others are and facing a huge horde outside the doors the few minutes of laughing drop them lower than before.

‘Why haven’t they come through?’ Cookey asks. If the doors open inwards the horde could have come in with ease. Blowers grabs one of the handles and tugs it open, a stupid move considering what could be on the other side, but exhaustion clouds their normally alert minds.

‘Fuck,’ Blowers mutters staring at the empty scene. Cookey steps through, joining his friend to stare out at the street. The flames of the burning High Street flicker and dance off the sides of the car park. Bodies litter the ground everywhere, crushed and shot to bits, but other than the odd crawler, pathetically dragging itself on bloodied stumps trailing long black glistening innards, there are no undead, no zombies, no walkers.

‘Where have…’

‘Dunno,’ Cookey cuts him off, his axe still gripped, raised and ready to fight. Slowly he lowers his arms and lets the axe hang at his side, ‘you must have scared ‘em off mate.’

Blowers turns slowly to stare at Cookey, too exhausted to ask and knowing he doesn't need to.

‘That commando entry there…’ Cookey turns to look at him, ‘they knew they were outmatched.’

‘Or they fucked off from sheer embarrassment more likely,’ Blowers snorts.

‘You think they took Mr Howie with them?’

‘Fuck knows,’ Blowers shrugs, ‘don’t seem right though.’

‘What doesn't?’

‘Mr Howie going like that, it’s…well it’s fucked up…like…’ he shrugs again, his mind foggy and feeling numb.

Cookey pauses then takes the thought process up, ‘Dave went after him, I saw him.’

‘Yeah?’

Cookey nods, ‘Dave won’t let anything happen to him, he’d kill the lot with his bare hands…’

‘So where are they then? And where the fuck are the zombies?’

‘Dunno,’ Cookey sighs, ‘or anyone else. Clarence was behind the Saxon, what about Lani and Nick? Did you see the dog?’

‘Maddox was with Clarence, I’m sure I saw him,’ Blowers replies staring round and settling on the closest crawler trying unsuccessfully to clamber over a pile of bodies, ‘why doesn't it just go round?’ Blowers asks.

‘Eh?’

‘That thing,’ he nods at the crawler, ‘he’s trying to go over when he could just go round.’

‘Oh,’ Cookey turns to watch, ‘yeah…stupid fucker, mind you…they ain't all that dumb. Lani went flying off when Mr Howie got pulled away, I thought Nick was with Clarence tonight, he must have got out with the Saxon.’

‘Yeah, hope so,’ Blowers nods, ‘Lani must be with Dave and the boss then.’

‘Yeah, yeah definitely…’ Cookey mutters, both of them trying desperately not to think of the consequences of the other option.

‘I’m fucked mate,’ Blowers sighs deeply.

‘Really? I must have missed that, big was he?’

‘Very funny, come on…’

‘Where we going?’

‘Find a drink, I’m gagging.’

‘Kay, we get a drink then and grab a car yeah? Head back to the fort or should we stay here and look for the others?’

‘Drink first,’ Blowers steps off, still staring at the crawler who almost makes it to the top of the pile before slipping back down with a groan. ‘Drink first and then think about it,’ Blowers pulls his knife and stabs down, driving the point deep into the skull before placing his foot on the zombies neck and yanking the blade out.

Cookey walks by, looking down at the bare arse of the zombie exposed to the air from the clothing torn away. He grins quickly, looking at Blowers with a sudden glint in his eye.

‘Don’t,’ Blowers groans, ‘please…just don’t fucking start…’

‘Ha,’ Cookey snorts, ‘give him a quick stab did you?’

‘Oh no,’ Blowers sighs, shaking his head.

‘I’m too tired,’ Cookey coughs and rubs his throat, trying to swallow and feeling the pain spreading across his forehead, ‘your legs shaking?’

‘Yes mate,’ Blowers replies, ‘feel like shit.’

‘We need to drink fuckhead, let’s head away from the town and find a house.’

‘Yeah great plan cockchops.’

‘What? What’s wrong with it?’

‘No seriously, it is a good plan,’ Blowers says with as much sincerity as he can muster.

‘Oh, thought you were being sarcastic.’

‘Me!?’ Blowers asks, ‘oh fuck it…I’m too tired mate, can we banter later?’

‘Kay.’

Stepping over bodies and around the dark patches of gore, they move slowly away from the town, pushing deeper into the dark streets and away from the flaming town centre. With the car park already at the far end of the High Street, it takes them just minutes to reach the first residential street. Signs of devastation everywhere, not a window intact or a door not ripped off. Cars smashed up or burnt to a molten lump.

Exhausted, they plod on in silence. If it wasn’t for the raging thirst burning they would happily fall down on the spot. But thirst, proper thirst, raging thirst takes over everything else. It pushes the body and fills the mind with a never ending claxon. All other thoughts are meaningless when the body needs water, feelings of loss and grief mean nothing, even the possibility of Mr Howie being killed or taken is now not the primary thought. Just the thirst.

The days solid, strength sapping heat, the fires raging nearby, the fighting, the running and firing, close quarters battle have all taken their toll.

Like the undead they kill, the two lads stagger up the first path to the dark house, clumsily kicking the broken door aside and threading their way through the hallway to the kitchen at the rear.

Cupboards ransacked and emptied of food and a foul stench emanating from the fridge freezer are ignored as they go straight for the tap. One filthy hand twists the metal and they both feel a slight thrill as water bursts from the tap, cascading noisily into the stainless steel bowl. It’s the sweetest sound they’ve ever heard, and for a second they just stare down and watch the water flow. Cookey dips in, mouth already open.

‘Let it run,’ Blowers mutters, blocking his path, ‘you got a torch?’

‘Yeah,’ Cookey digs a small flashlight from his pocket as Blowers retrieves a glass from a shelf. He fills the glass and holds it up as Cookey shines the torch into it.

‘Looks clear,’ Blowers croaks, ‘here mate,’ he offers the first glass to Cookey.

‘You have it,’ Cookey urges. There are more glasses but the act is symbolic, a gesture of their closeness and the sacrifice they would both make for the other.

Blowers pauses, then slowly lifts the glass to his mouth, taking that first slow sip as the cooling liquid floods his parched lips and tongue. The water instantly soothes his throat and he can feel the chill of it tumbling down into his stomach. Reflex action kicks in and the glass is lifted higher as he downs it, opening his throat to take noisy gulps and letting the water spill down his chin.

Glass drained, he slowly takes it away, opening his eyes to look over at Cookey and give him a satisfied smile. However, Cookey is already bent over the sink with his mouth stuck to the end of the tap, slurping the water as it runs.

‘Greedy fucker,’ Blower burps, ‘move over.’

‘Fuck off, go upstairs,’ Cookey gurgles.

‘Bastard,’ Blowers grumbles and pulls Cookey’s torch from his hand to shine a path back down the hallway and up the stairs to the bathroom.

For long minutes the lads remain in silence, mouths stuck to the end of the taps as they slurp and drink, filling their stomachs with the lifesaving liquid.

Energy starts to flow back into them. Normal cognitive function resumes as the pressing urge to stay alive abates.

They strip tops off, letting the water run over their filth encrusted faces. Hands are scrubbed with washing up liquid and shower gel. Faces are rubbed and hair is rinsed through. Chests are soaped and rinsed off, neither of them paying any attention to the black water running from them onto the floor.

Once cleaned, they drink more and Blowers heads back down stairs to find Cookey sat in the dark with his back to the units, the orange glow of a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

Blowers slumps down next to him, taking the offered smoke and lighter, shielding his eyes from the glare as he takes the first pull.

‘You smell nice,’ Cookey comments quietly.

‘Shower gel, found it in the bathroom.’

‘Oh.’

‘You smell of fairy washing up liquid.’

‘That,’ Cookey replies, ‘is because I used fairy washing up liquid…but I am not surprised you recognised the smell of fair…’

‘Fuck off,’ Blowers cuts him off.

‘That water was fucking nice,’ Cookey says after a quiet pause of smoking.

‘Yup,’ Blowers replies, blowing smoke away, ‘I’m fucked mate, utterly fucked…I don’t think I can move for a minute.’

‘We’ll give it five then go back out,’ Cookey yawns, stretching his aching legs out.

‘Don’t,’ Blowers tuts then yawns himself, rolling his sore shoulders and craning his head to one side, easing the pain in the back of his neck from swinging the heavy axe so much.

Whilst Lani convinces herself that she will rest just for a minute, the lads do the same and start to feel the tug as eyelids get heavier. There is no weakness here. They are young and strong but the body can only function for so long before it is ordered to rest by the brain.

So rest is given, and breathing slows as they fall into a deep sleep that is close to being unconscious.

Five

The Roman Empire was strong and held power for a long time. Tribe and country fell before it as they sought to dominate the known world. Using military tactics still deployed in modern times, they fought battles with opponents many times their number.

But then the giants came. They came from the north where the countries were cold and you had to be big to survive. They landed on the shores of England, saw the green lush fertile land and they took it.

Nothing could stand before them. Physically huge with legendary strength. They fought with passion and feeling, they had honour and unity, and those genes passed through the generations and still to this day, the gene of those peoples is as pure as it was before.

He stands a head taller than most. Shoulders wide and powerful, arms thick with muscle, legs solid and unbreakable. A warrior born and a soldier made through years of training and discipline. A sense of honour runs through him and a deep instinct to protect those unable to defend themselves.

If time went back a thousand years and he was dressed in a sheepskin sleeveless jacket with course woollen leggings he would perfectly match the giants from the North. Now, in this modern time, he grips the double bladed axe and watches as Mr Howie is taken away.

His keen eyes watch as the boss is ripped away deep into the ranks. His heart pounds, pumping his muscles with rich, oxygenated blood. Adrenalin pumps, testosterone pours into his system as his body makes ready to charge and take the boss back.

But his feet do not move. Instead his eyes glance back to the children scattered in front of the Saxon. They still hack and kill with blind fury and they do deadly work but the giant knows these things will turn, and when they do, these children will fall.

Conflict rages within him. Mr Howie must survive. He has an ability to unite the people around him into a fearsome machine, flawlessly using people’s strengths to cover others weaknesses. Without Howie’s power, the risk is they will falter and become just another band of survivors trying to get by.

Movement catches his eye, Dave spinning to leap high and watch the direction Howie is taken. Clarence nods, a tiny movement done without conscious thought. Dave is going after him. As strong and as powerful as Clarence is, as much as he has the nature of the Viking Berserker within him, he knows he can never hope to match or equal what Dave can do.

Decision made. The soldier once more makes the rational and right decision, over-powering the urge of the heart.

‘MADDOX,’ Clarence roars, spinning round to pick out the adults nearby, ‘GET EVERYONE BEHIND THE VEHICLE…NICK?’

‘Here,’ Nick screams back from a few feet away, slicing his axe into the back of a male undead.

‘Get on the GPMG and make ready.’

‘What about the boss?’

‘NOW!’ Clarence bellows, ‘Dave is going after him, get on that gun.’

‘The others…’

‘Nick,’ Clarence glares over, ‘we have to get these kids out while we can…we’re going now…’

Nick spins round, viewing the children armed to the teeth as they hack and slaughter away. They look ferocious and deadly but it was only a short time ago most of them were crying and looking terrified at the body parts being flung out and the fucked up laughing from the undead. Clarence is right, the team might be splintered but Dave is going after the boss and the others are hard enough and experienced enough to fight their way out.

He nods and starts back, threading his way through the youths towards the vehicle already loaded up with the youngest picked by Maddox.

‘What?’ Maddox shouts as get closer to Clarence, the flush of battle is evident on his face, a long bladed knife held tight in his hand, thick blood dripping from its blade.

‘Get everyone behind the vehicle facing out. ROY…get behind the wheel and get ready to drive…PAULA get inside with Roy…’

‘Why?’ Paula demands.

‘Protect the kids inside, the two of you,’ Clarence barks as he starts pushing children to the back of the vehicle, ‘NOW…MOVE NOW…GET BEHIND THE SAXON.’

‘Come on,’ Roy tugs at Paula, pulling her towards the vehicle.

‘I can stay outside and fight,’ Paula shouts.

‘He’s right,’ Roy replies, ‘get in.’

‘No Roy,’ she pulls her arm free.

‘Just get in,’ he urges in the same calm voice, half ushering and half pushing a protesting Paula towards the door.

Maddox works with Clarence, ordering the children to the back. Darius, Jagger and Mohammed quickly work out what is needed and run back and forth, getting the strongest kids to the outside facing out and the youngest behind them.

‘HEADLIGHTS….GIVE ME LIGHT,’ Dave’s voice booms across the top level of car park. Roy fumbles with the controls, finding the switch to flick the lights onto full beam. The engine rumbles into life and Nick shoves his way through the packed interior to climb up and make ready with the machine gun.

‘Roy, just keep going straight and don’t stop,’ Nick shouts down, ‘if we keep momentum we’ll punch through.’

‘Got it,’ Roy shouts back, his tongue probing along his gum line at a new sensation and a possible swelling at the back, ‘is my Corsodyl here anywhere?’ He asks mildly.

‘Look at me,’ Paula snaps, ‘open,’ she adds as he turns to face her. She shines a torch into his mouth, quickly glancing to the top, bottom and sides, ‘nothing there Roy, looks clear.’

‘Sure?’

‘Totally,’ she nods with sincerity.

‘NOW,’ Clarence bellows. The GPMG commences firing, eliciting a yelp of alarm from the young children crowded into the rear. Nick aims high for a short burst, giving a warning shot to any of the team still within the ranks of undead.

Roy pushes his foot down, feeling the immense power and weight of the vehicle as it pulls away with a throaty roar. Nick holds for as long as he dares, grimacing with fear while praying the team aren’t in the way.

‘NOW NICK,’ Clarence shouts.

He squeezes the trigger, feeling the solid recoil of the weapon as it starts thudding. Sending the large calibre rounds whipping through the ranks. Bodies burst apart as he focusses on a narrow section immediately in front of the vehicle. With the weapon slaughtering them down, Roy increases the speed. Driving into the ranks and watching with delight as the solid front wings batter the zombies away.

‘I fucking love this vehicle,’ he shouts, earning a quick puzzled look from Paula. She turns back, watching with interest as the power of the heavy machine gun cuts swathes of zombies down. Heads exploding, chests bursting apart, limbs torn off.

Behind the vehicle the youths move quickly to keep up, travelling at a half running pace while facing out. Within a few seconds the Saxon is deep within the undead. Clarence watches as they change, the energy pulsing through them.

‘GET READY,’ he shouts to those around him, ‘STAY CLOSE AND KEEP MOVING…’

Faces contort with rage, the hunger takes over as the infection makes the horde ready. A split second later and they’re charging, thundering into the sides of the vehicle and the lines of youths facing out.

Several children go down from the initial impact, overwhelmed by the ferocity of the attack. The rest fight for their lives, trying hard to keep up with the vehicle while fending the zombies off.

Maddox moves amongst them, shoving youths into gaps that open up as children get taken down.

Into the tunnel and the ranks press tighter, the vehicle gathering speed which causes the youths to run faster. Clarence feels the urge to shout to slow down but he knows speed is the essence now and they must maintain the progress.

Within the enclosed tunnel, the fighting eases off until they reach the first opening for the second level. The Saxon batters huge sections of undead out to the sides, who then thrust back in to attack the strung out lines at the rear.

Nick fires intelligently, knowing the last magazine is being rapidly depleted and trying to hold back for when they reach the bottom.

Down they go, turning round the circular road to descend ever closer to the ground level. The youths pant and gasp for air, sweat pours from faces and hands become slick as they grip weapons. Children trip and fall from the broken bodies underfoot. Maddox, Darius and the older ones run to drag them up and get them going again.

Clarence takes the far rear, holding the huge following off with his almighty strength, swinging the double bladed axe with his grip right at the end of the shaft as he makes full use of the length of the weapon.

Counting off the levels he knows they’re on the final section now, praying to any god listening that they can punch through the thick horde at the bottom.

Nick stares with unblinking eyes as the road twists round to reveal the bottom access ramp. Thick ranks push forward and drive into the opening, desperate to prevent the vehicle from leaving.

Nick sees the opportunity, with the height advantage and the position he attempts to do a Dave and sweeps the aim at head height, watching with satisfaction as skull after skull pops open.

Seeing the dense crowd, Roy knows speed and power is the only way through. Pushing his foot down onto the accelerator he surges the vehicle into the crowd, slamming the hard front into the front ranks. Nick switches back to firing directly in front, cutting a path for Roy to follow.

As soon as the back end of the vehicle leaves the relative safety of the tunnel, the undead once more surge into the lines at the rear.

Maddox jumps onto the back of the Saxon, heaving himself up to look ahead. There are too many to fight out like this but up ahead are two side junctions, one either side of the road.

Dropping down he works to the middle of the lines, ‘WHEN I SAY,’ he shouts, his voice rich and deep, ‘STARBURST…YOU GET ME? YOU FUCKING STARBURST AND DO ONE…’

‘What?’ Clarence shouts.

‘We don’t stand a chance like this, trust me…’ Maddox replies. The crews cannot stand toe to toe with so many adult zombies coming in like this, their strength won’t hold out. But they’re fast and nimble, years spent legging it from police and angry shopkeepers, other gangs or whatever threat they perceive.

Maddox stares to the side, willing the junction to come into view.

‘ALMOST OUT,’ Nick shouts. He keeps the pressure up, doing his best to cleave a route for Roy. Then it’s done. The weapon clicks empty and without a further thought he prises himself out and shouts for someone to pass his axe up. Grasping the shaft he scurries across the back and drops down to land within the lines, quickly moving to the back to fight with Clarence.

‘They’re starbursting,’ Clarence grunts.

‘Who?’

‘This lot, they’re gonna leg it when Maddox says…LISTEN IN,’ he shouts, ‘STAY LOCAL AND WE’LL COME BACK FOR YOU OR HEAD SOUTH TO THE FORT…’

‘NOW,’ Maddox clocks the first junction coming into view, ‘GO…STARBURST…GO…’ The lines breaks as the youths do what they do best and make like they were never here.

Small bodies that duck and weave through the packed ranks, scooting between legs. Heads down and legs pumping. They burst away in every direction possible. Some don’t make it and get taken down instantly. Some get several strides only to be savaged but many break out. Council estate living giving them good skills.

Clarence and Nick are caught out, the protection of the line is gone and the undead surge in. Within seconds they’re separated and fighting individually. Clarence, being that bit taller, manages to keep an eye on Nick’s position for a few seconds, bellowing for the lad to join him.

Overwhelmed and sensing he has just seconds to either do something or die, Nick follows the course of action taken by the youths and breaks out, pushing and fighting his way to the side to break free.

Clarence watches him go and starts going after him but Nick moves faster than he is able and then he’s gone from view, absorbed into the darkness and chaos.

‘NICK?’

‘GO,’ Nick screams back.

‘GET TO THE FORT.’

‘GO…I WILL…GO…I’M OUT…’

Clarence nods and starts running for the back of the vehicle, using his massive hands to simply swat the undead aside. With a leap he gains the back ledge and heaves himself up onto the roof, banging down hard on the solid metal casing, ‘GO ROY…PUT YOUR FOOT DOWN…’

Roy heeds the order and pushes the vehicle harder. Ploughing the hard front into the bodies to batter them down.

The undead try the same grounding tactic and move quickly to drop in front of the vehicle in an attempt to ground it out but Roy changes direction; simply turning the wheel to weave and snake through them.

‘Clever bastard,’ Clarence mutters wishing he’d thought to do that. Gripping the GPMG hole he watches as the front of the horde starts thinning out, craning his head to see hundreds and hundreds of them still charging after them. Nodding with satisfaction he wills them to keep coming, giving those that have escaped a fighting chance to get to safety.

Finally they’re out, bursting the last few apart as the Saxon gains free ground and speeds up.

Reminding himself that Dave went after the boss, he still feels the same sense of fear and desperation the others feel. The first time they’ve been split apart like this and they each feel it. That sense of loss, of strength and unity. The big man wills them to just hunker down and survive, find a hole to dig in and wait for him to come back.

He pats the roof of the vehicle gently. The Saxon is as much part of the team as anyone else and between them, they are the strongest and they will come back.

Nick shouts for Clarence to go, he knows those youths will need him if they stand a chance of surviving. He breaks free of the horde, swinging his axe to make a path of broken bodies. Once out, he sprints, pumping his legs as fast as possible to gain distance from the horde.

The youths are gone, vanished from sight as they ran towards the darkest shadows. Nick gets into the side junction and keeps going straight for as long as his legs and lungs will allow. With a hasty snatched glance behind he realises only a few have come after him so he slows down and works to control his breathing.

Head pounding with pain, the same effects felt by Lani and the other lads flood through Nick. Dry mouth, burning throat, legs shaking and the sweat no longer coming.

Slowing to a walk he forces himself to take deep breaths, turning to walk backwards and  gripping the axe as he watches them run down the road. His keen eyes sweep the small group, picking out the fastest and strongest. One sprints forward, streaking ahead of the others. Nick starts jogging backwards, hefting his axe and making ready. At the last second, he charges forward, taking the fight to the undead. Axe up and swinging, its head detached from the neck to roll off into the gutter.

He spins round and swings out, slicing deep into a shoulder before wrenching it free and snapping the shaft back to ram the hard end into the face of one lunging in. As the undead starts to drop, he slams the blunt edge down, fracturing the skull and sending shards of bone into the brain.

The next one is taken off her feet by the recoil of Nick’s previous swing. She sails through the air to slam down onto the windscreen of a car, the alarm warbling out noisily into the near silent street.

Just a few left and Nick starts going backwards again, letting them come to him and chopping them down as they come in for the attack.

With a long strung out line of chopped corpses, he works further into the quiet residential street. Hacking with increasingly tired and heavy arms, he takes the last few down and then stands with chest heaving at the empty street ahead of him.

With those last ones killed the silence hits him hard. After the constant noise of the battle it doesn't seem real and for a second he wonders if he died and this is the afterlife. It just doesn't seem right. The stars twinkle bright in the night sky and the moon shines silver, the same as ever. The houses look normal and he realises the car alarm has stopped.

Looking down he takes in the layers of gore on his hands and clothes. With a sigh he turns and walks further into the street, this area isn’t safe to stop.

Two streets down and he picks a dark house with an undamaged front door, checking the rooms before he goes back to lock the door. Into the kitchen and he does the same as Cookey and Blowers, twisting the cold tap on to suck the water into his parched mouth.

He drinks and drinks, sucking water into his stomach before holding his head under the tap to start washing the filth and dried sweat away.

Legs shake as his mind sends signals that the danger of imminent death has gone. With trembling hands he scrubs and washes, using washing up liquid which gets into his eyes and makes them burn.

Unlike the others, Nick has that last bit of strength left to strip off and scrub his top in the running water, rinsing the worst of the filth away before wringing it out and draping it over a chair. Then his boots come off, peeling away the stinking, sodden socks. Lifting one foot in turn he holds them under the water then makes his way upstairs to root through drawers until he finds clean socks.

Sitting on the edge of a big, soft double bed he stares down at the filth on his trousers. Infected blood will be all over them so he strips them off too. His exhausted mind isn’t thinking straight as he strips off and heads back into the bathroom to wash his legs. Moving like a robot, he finds himself back in the bedroom, unable to remember the last ten minutes.

Drunk on water and drained to the point of passing out he sinks back, feeling the softness of the bed envelope him. The smell of laundered sheets drift into his nose, clean and dry now. Where are the others? Are they alive?

It takes little more than a few seconds before his mind shuts down.

Lani sleeps with her back to a grimy wall in the car park. Cookey and Blowers side by side in a dark kitchen. Nick flat out on a double bed in a quiet dark house. Meredith sleeps with ears pricked and listening.

Two more of the team are within the car park. One small man that walks slowly back up the ramp. In his hand he carries a double bladed axe and over his shoulder he carries the unconscious form of his leader.

He stands at the top and sweeps the view of broken bodies. There will be weapons here, so he gently rests Howie in the corner and moves quickly round collecting all the fallen weapons.

Moving back to Howie’s side ,he works through them, ejecting magazines as he looks for rounds. Between all the dropped guns he scavenges enough unused rounds for a few full magazines, loading two of the weapons up and pocketing the rest. Back on his feet he straps the two rifles to his back, then manhandles Howie up and over his shoulder before squatting down to scoop the axe up.

Pain doesn't factor, exhaustion doesn't matter. He feels the same as the others but Dave is different, he just ignores it and carries on the same as before.

Carrying the heavy load he makes his way quietly down the stairs into the street and then away from the town. Each step is taken as gently as possible to prevent causing discomfort to Howie and slowly he gets into the side streets.

Like Nick he finds a dark house and gets inside, laying Howie down on the sofa before checking each room.

Back at the front door he stares out for long seconds, listening intently. He lets his mind absorb the natural sounds as he glances up to view the same sky that Nick looks at.

Like a sentinel he stands strong and quiet. The team are separated but they’ve been taught well and they’re capable. They’ll survive. Dave knows this.

But will Mr Howie survive? Will he come through whatever happened to him before Dave found him?

A rare look of worry settles on his face as he glances back into the lounge doorway. Sighing, he quietly close the door.

Six

“Oh no” said the brown bear, how will I eat my porridge now, I will have to find another spoon. So the brown bear set off to find another spoon…’

‘Dad.’

‘Yes?’

‘I’m hungry Dad.’

Holding the picture book open on his lap, Andrew looks down at the young face staring up at him. Pain shoots through his heart at the thought of his child going without food for another day.

‘I’m sorry but we’ll have something in the morning.’

‘Where from?’

‘Pardon,’ Andrew asks, surprised at the question.

‘Where will the food come from Daddy? We don’t have any and you said the shops have all run out.’

‘Well,’ Andrew smiles, ‘I will just have to find some won’t I.’

‘When Daddy?’

‘Tonight, I will find something yummy tonight.’

‘But…’ the child stares with frightened eyes.

‘Hey now,’ the man soothes the child, ‘Lilly will stay with you and when you wake up there will be something nice to eat.’

‘Like sweets?’

‘Maybe not sweets but…’

‘Cake?’

‘Well maybe not cake either but something, something nice I promise.’

‘You promise Daddy?’

‘I promise,’ Andrew closes the book and leans forward from his chair beside the bed. Kissing the boy on the forehead, ‘now go to sleep and have nice dreams.’

‘I’ll try,’ the boy yawns and smiles up at his father.

‘And remember, what happens if you wake up in the night?’

‘Don’t make any noise and don’t call out,’ the boy replies sleepily.

‘Good boy,’ Andrew kisses his son’s head again and gently moves out of the room, leaving a single small candle burning on the dresser. With thick curtains and even thicker blankets fixed across the window he knows none of the light will escape, and the candle will be blown out as soon as the boy nods off.

Moving quietly across the landing of the large flat he stands in the doorway of the lounge, the soft flicker of candlelight dances across the walls. Desperately hot, he wipes the sweat from his forehead and starts wringing his hands, knowing what he has to do and dreading it.

‘I’ve got to get food,’ he says quietly, stepping into the room he looks down at his daughter using the meagre light to read. She looks up with an instant worried look, her brow knotting in concern.

‘Wait till tomorrow,’ she whispers.

Shaking his head and wringing his hands, he then realises the worry he is displaying to his daughter, quickly dropping his hands to his sides before smiling broadly. It’s a fake smile and he hopes she won’t notice the lack of humour in his eyes, ‘Neither of you have eaten today,’ he replies.

‘We can wait till tomorrow,’ she repeats, ‘and you didn’t eat yesterday so I should go out…’

‘No,’ he cuts her off firmly.

‘Dad you’re exhausted…I can find something just as…’

‘I said no,’ he snaps, holding a hand up.

‘Dad,’ she pleads with an urgent tone, ‘you look terrible, you haven’t slept for three days, I can go and find something.’

‘Lilly, I said no,’ he repeats with an increasingly firm tone.

‘Well where are you going then?’

‘I don’t know,’ he shrugs, frantically thinking of where to try next. All the houses locally have been looted, the local shop was cleared out the day after it happened and now, twelve days in,  finding food is getting harder.

At first he was simply running to one of the many local houses to raid the kitchen but increasingly, he found someone had got there before him and taken everything edible. He knew he’d have to go further out but that meant exposing himself to greater risk and the thought of leaving his children alone terrified him more than going out.

‘Dad, I haven’t been outside for what…twelve days now…please let me go,’ Lilly begs. Even in the dark shadows of the doorway she can see the deep bags under his eyes. His face looks ashen and sallow, his cheeks sunken from lack of food and sleep. His hair looks greyer than ever before and the normally jovial, kind, loving man was slowly being replaced by a nervous wreck barely holding it together.

He doesn't reply but just shakes his head. Thinking of where to try next, which street to go to and trying to remember where he last saw those things. But the lack of food and sleep are taking their toll and his mind finds it harder to fix onto anything more than a simple thought process.

‘Your mother wouldn’t want that,’ he says at length, ‘she will never forgive me if she found out I left you alone. When she gets back, she will ask if I left and you know I can’t lie to her…’

‘Dad,’ Lilly says softly, ‘Mum isn’t coming back, she’s gone Dad…’

‘No,’ he hisses, ‘she will come back…I promised William she’ll be back.’

Standing up slowly she crosses the room to stand in front of her father, folding her arms as she gets ready for the conversation again.

‘Dad, you have to tell him the truth, how long can we stay here for? The food is running out and the water could end any minute, we don’t even know if it’s clean anymore…’

‘Of course it’s clean.’

‘No, it looks clean but there could be anything in it now, we did a lesson in biology and the teacher said…’

‘I don’t care what your teacher said, the water is fine.’

‘Okay,’ she softens her tone, ‘what about Mum? She isn’t coming back Dad, we have to accept that and find somewhere else to stay.’

‘Lilly, we are not leaving. How will she know where we’ve gone to? How will she find us? We have to wait here until she…’

‘Dad please,’ Lilly pleads, ‘you said there’s no food, we haven’t eaten today and you haven’t eaten for ages…it’s not safe here. William can’t make any noise, he can’t go outside…he looks ill Dad, have you seen how pale he is?’

‘We just have to wait,’ he replies quietly. Lilly stares at him, sensing his resolve weakening. He usually would have bitten her head off by now for pushing the point so much.

Seizing the chance she presses on, speaking in a low but urgent tone, ‘We’re too close to the town here, they stagger past all the time, what if they hear us? We can leave a note for mum and tell her which direction we’re going. Tell her we’ll get to someplace and wait there for a week.’

‘Like where?’

‘The harbour where the boat was kept,’ she replies quickly, referring to the small inlet on the coast where her father used to keep his speedboat. But that was before the recession, and before he lost his business, and before they had to move into this flat because of the house being repossessed and Mum going back to work while Dad became increasingly depressed.

‘She knows where that is, and it’s in a rural place with only a few houses…leave a note saying we’ll go there every day at twelve and wait an hour…’

‘You’ve thought this through then,’ he comments drily.

‘Yes,’ she keeps going, sensing he is really listening this time, ‘we’ll take the first car we can find and just drive away. We can get food on the way and we might like meet other survivors or families…there might be soldiers or something.’

‘Lilly, you haven’t seen what it’s like out there,’ he whispers.

‘If it’s that bad then why are we staying here?’

‘We are waiting for your mother,’ he replies in a tone that implies she is being stupid, which forces Lilly to take a deep breath and stare in sadness at the father she loves so much. She thinks about his rapid decline since he went bankrupt, the depression and loss of self-esteem and now this; left on his own to take care of a young child and a teenager.

They have been cooped up inside the flat since the day it began. With her mother working nights at a care home, something she hated but the rate of pay was higher than the day shifts, Lilly and her father watched the events unfold on the television. Watching at first with almost amused interest at the crazy people running around biting each other.

But, as with many millions who watched the same news channels, they soon edged closer to the television. Watching as country after country fell to the violent epidemic sweeping across.

Then it was upon them. The town centre exploding which such ferocity that her father went into virtual meltdown, running between the rooms with his mobile and landline, trying over and again to call the police and the care home.

The internet went down with the phones, then the television channels stopped reporting. Her father tried to tune the radio in the kitchen but it was a digital thing with pre-set channels and try as he might, he couldn’t figure a way of tuning it across the frequencies.

So they hid and stayed quiet. Taking a chance the next day, they to fortified the flat. This consisted of sticking blankets over the windows and shoving some furniture against the front door.

Days passed slowly as Lilly’s father tried to hold it together, pacing from room to room as he constantly took his glasses off to clean the lenses on his shirt tails. A medium built man with medium brown hair that was greying as rapidly as it was receding. A slight paunch showing the middle aged spread and he was every wealthy business man suffering from the recession and plunging into depression.

Lilly, being fifteen, was old enough to know what was happening outside. William however, being six, was not. So at first it was a game. Hiding quietly and pretending to sneak about. William loved the game and became the ultimate spy, crawling between rooms with a ski mask over his face. Rolling under the windows to avoid the spy satellites and the mystery and wonder of using candles at night was amazing.

But that only lasted a couple of days. Then it became weird and William missed his mother. He missed watching cartoons and playing in the field nearby. He missed playing on the Wii and the DS. He didn’t like candles anymore and now he was hungry and growing increasingly listless from being cooped up for so long. He knew something was wrong as normally his big sister would snap at him when he annoyed her, but now she didn’t. She was being so patient and kind that without knowing it, it freaked William out.

When the power went off they used the gas oven to feast on the contents of the fridge and freezer. Three hungry mouths soon devoured that and then it was down to snack food. Once that was depleted, Lilly’s father was left with no choice but to venture out to scavenge for supplies.

As the days went on, the pickings got worse and the last time he went out, just two days ago, he found all the local houses had been ransacked. Being so close to the town centre, the location chosen simply because of the size of the old property and the low rent, he saw first-hand the devastation wrought from the event. Dead bodies rotting, shops smashed and looted, cars burnt out and those things. He, like everyone else, knew what zombies were but the thought of actually calling them that was too much.

‘Dad,’ Lilly prompts, snapping her father back to reality.

‘You’re right,’ he sighs deeply.

‘I am?’ She asks with genuine surprise.

Nodding, he sags and rests one shoulder against the frame of the door. Removing his glasses to clean the lenses on his shirt tails, he repeats himself, ‘you’re right, we have to go.’

‘Christ Dad,’ Lilly exclaims, ‘what…what changed your mind?’

‘Everything you said,’ he looks up, pushing his glasses back up his nose, ‘sensible, just like your mother,’ he smiles sadly, ‘she was always the sensible one you know, always had common sense whereas I,’ he looks down at the floor as Lilly feels the first prick of tears forming, ‘was just a bloody fool.’

‘You’re not a fool Dad,’ she whispers.

‘I was love. I was greedy and wanted more. Your mother knew the recession was coming and told me to ease back but I didn’t listen, I kept pumping the money back into the business…’ he trails off as Lilly listens intently. He never spoke about it. He was just quiet and tried acting like everything was okay. For the first time in her life, she saw her father as a man, not just a dad.

‘So now you’re the sensible one,’ he grins quickly and this time with real humour in his eyes. Sadly, the look drains away as quickly as it came.

‘We’ll be okay Dad, we’ll leave notes so Mum knows where to look…when are we going?’

‘Tomorrow, first thing in the morning,’ he replies, ‘we’ll make a game of it with William, then once we’re somewhere far away I’ll try and tell him what’s happened.’

‘Okay,’ she nods. Her choice would be to tell William as soon as possible and before they leave the house but it was enough that her dad was finally relenting.

‘I’ll go out now and get us some supplies,’ he says more to himself than to Lilly, ‘er…Billy wants some sweets or cake, yeah…should definitely look for some sweets. Maybe find a comic book or something for him? What do you think?’

‘Er…yeah you could,’ Lilly replies slowly, ‘or just er…get whatever you can grab quickly, anything will do until we’re out of the town.’

Andrew straightens up and visibly tries to stiffen his resolve, nodding with firm action as he looks towards the barricaded front door.

Lilly follows him about quietly as he prepares to leave, changing from a white shirt to a black one used for funerals. Taking an empty rucksack, he quietly starts moving furniture away from the door.

‘Dad,’ Lilly calls, holding the long bladed knife out to him.

‘We’ve discussed this Lilly,’ Andrew turns back, ignoring the knife to carry on making a path to the door.

‘Just take it Dad.’

‘No, I don’t plan on getting close enough to use it and besides, if I brandish a weapon then other people might think to use one. Violence doesn't solve anything Lilly. Diplomacy, talking and making sure you don’t get caught out are the best strategies.’

She drops the hand holding the knife, knowing she would take it if she was going out there, but her father was a staunch pacifist. She had always admired this trait in her father, that his belief in non-violence resolutions should always be sought. Lately, however, along with the growing frustration she felt, she started to internally question if it really was pacifism or just plain cowardice.

After pausing to listen for long seconds, he slowly prises the letterbox open and peers outside. Only when absolutely sure the area is clear, does he crack the front door open, sliding through the small gap.

‘I’ll be a couple of hours at most.’

‘Okay Dad…Dad?’ She calls out quietly but too late, the door is closed. Standing there for a second, she places the knife on the kitchen side before locking the front door, pushing the bolts home and heaving the barricade back.

With the candle in the kitchen extinguished she pulls back  the thick blanket covering the window, staring down at the quiet deserted street. As they lived on the first floor of an old house, they had a private front stairwell going down to their own front door. Apparently that made the flat a maisonette, something her mother kept saying whenever she spoke to family or friends.

Lilly watches as her father comes into view, crouching down between the brick pillars at the end of the garden path, cautiously checking the street before proceeding up and out of sight.

Staring out she takes in the view of the darkened houses, all of them looking foreboding and eerie. Dark shadows and just the moonlight giving illumination.

Twelve days stuck inside and she longs to be outside. With the windows closed and covered by thick blankets, the heat within the flat became oppressive, and the long sweaty hours passed even slower with nothing to do. All the books had been read, all the magazines flicked through. Clothes had been tidied and made neat. Everything that could be done was done.

With her father gone, she waits a few more minutes before sliding the clasp back on the window and pushing the wooden framed lower pane up. In disappointment she realises the outside air is pretty much the same as inside. Hot and listless. No breeze or cooling quality at all. But it still felt different.

She thought of school and her friends. Well, the friends from her old private school. She hadn’t seen that much of them lately. Moving to the comprehensive state school was a necessity that she understood so she did it with minimal complaint. She was a good student with high grades and tried to keep a low profile. At fifteen she looked older, with a developed body and a figure most models would die for. Long naturally blond hair and striking blue eyes. The years at private school had taught her to speak properly, pronouncing each letter of each word as they should be pronounced. Her looks, the way she spoke and her high intelligence made Lilly a perfect target for bullying. The local girls detested her on sight. The lads adored her and flocked round her whenever possible, which only heightened the perception of arrogance and the other girls believing she thought she was better than they were.

Even trying to dull her looks didn’t work. Wearing baggier tops to hide her figure, not wearing any make-up and stopping styling her hair just served to make her more attractive. She was a natural beauty and couldn’t be anything else.

Lilly took it without complaint. Her parents had enough worries to deal with without having her bullying issue to sort out too.

Thankfully, Billy was young enough not to notice the change in lifestyle and, as young children do, he adapted easily and loved having his dad at home every day.

Closing the window, she tucked the blanket back in place and moved into her bedroom, pausing at the door as she thought of what to pack. They had to stay light and only take essentials. She would have to be brutal with her choice but it had to be done.

Placing the candle on her dresser she commenced sorting and packing, moving between the rooms to sort clothes into piles and then digging bags out to see what would fit and what wouldn’t.

It was boring and dreary but it passed the time and pretty soon her mind was occupied enough not to notice the how long it had been since her father had left.

Seven

Breathing hard he pauses at the end of the street. Fear and exertion made his heart rate rocket and he fought to get it under control, convincing himself that it must actually be audible it was hammering so loud.

So far he had seen nothing of concern. Just dark streets with dark houses, dark cars and even darker sections of deep shadows.

Since the breakdown, everything had terrified him. Realising that his strong, successful business could be taken away so easily made him question everything about his life. Fundamentally undermining every facet of his existence. Guilt was the worse one. Guilt that his daughter was forced the change schools, he had seen the change in her. Going from a vibrant young lady wearing figure hugging clothes to the plain attire she now dressed in. But he simply didn’t have the mental strength to deal with the reasons. That added to the guilt. His wife, forced to go back to care work, that added to the guilt. Losing their home, the cars, the boat, the lifestyle, it all added to the guilt and ate away at his soul.

This event, as bad as it might be, served to put all people back on an even keel. Wealth and prestige no longer mattered. Who you were before the event was no longer relevant. What mattered was what you did now, what decisions you made. Andrew could have seized this and gathered his former strength, but the rot was too deep and the fear too strong. Now, with his wife gone, he was barely holding it together.

Moving down the street he knew he had to keep going, these houses had all been checked. Someone had been through them all, removing every trace of food from every single one of them. Nothing was left, it was systematic and thorough and that worried Andrew. Somebody was organised and making efforts to gather supplies, and they were prepared to kill for it.

Finding the home owner of one of the houses stabbed through the chest in the kitchen made him realise that. The body was a normal man. Not a zombie, and he was old too. And old man dressed in pyjamas with thin grey hair, not a threat to anyone.

It was image that sprung to mind when Lilly was urging him to take them away. Accepting the fact that his wife was now gone was too much, so he clung to the belief that she was trapped or stuck somewhere and would eventually make her way back. In the meantime, they would have to leave and get somewhere safer.

At the next street he approached the first house, tentatively staring all around in case of movement or sound. The front door was like the previous street, battered open to hang from the near broken hinges. He knew this house had been ransacked before going inside. When he did finally reach the kitchen a cursory glance told him it had been emptied.

The next house was the same, and the next. All the houses had been done and he was forced to move further away from his home in search of food.

With a sizable distance between him and the town centre, Andrew follows the twisting lanes and avenues until he reaches an old estate, the kind of place heavily populated by the elderly with perfectly manicured gardens and older style small cars on driveways.

Hardly believing his luck, he spots the small corner shop near the entrance to the estate. A family run convenience store, somewhere the locals could get bread and milk, play the lottery and get the newspaper.

The door was open but otherwise it looked intact. The windows weren’t smashed in and even the houses round here didn’t look in that bad a state. Maybe whoever was gathering all the food hadn’t reached this far yet, or had just carried on by on the main road.

Tracing a route down the street he clings to the side, staying in the shadows. His hands tremble and his nervous eyes dart furtive looks in every direction. With yards to go, he keeps his eyes fixed on the door set into the corner, pauses to check and steps round, yelping with fright at the other man stepping round from the other side of the street.

With a startled cry from both of them they quickly back up and hold still, both of them ready to turn and flee. Andrew feels his heart bursting with fright and quickly takes stock of the other man. Middle aged with greying brown hair, medium build with a paunch and wearing glasses. He looks just as frightened as Andrew and stares back wide eyed.

‘Hello,’ Andrew whispers, his voice quavering.

‘Hi,’ the other man nods back, his voice also full of fear.

‘Er…’ Andrew stammers.

‘Um….’the other man stutters.

‘I’m looking for food,’ Andrew finally manages to blurt out.

‘Me too,’ the other man replies, ‘where you from?’

‘By the town centre, you?’

‘That way,’ the man points off to the opposite direction, ‘nothing up your way then?’

‘No,’ Andrew shakes his head, still keeping his distance.

‘Same,’ the man says, ‘I haven’t been out for a few nights but we’ve run out.’

‘Me too,’ Andrew whispers, ‘my kids are starving.’

‘Yeah mine are.’

‘How many you got?’

‘Son and daughter, you?’

‘Same,’ Andrew nods, ‘no wife?’

‘We split up, it was my weekend with the kids,’ the man shrugs.

‘No word from her?’

‘No, nothing. Have you seen any police or army or anything?’

‘Nothing,’ Andrew shakes his head, ‘just dead bodies and…’

‘Yeah,’ the man says softly, ‘you heard about the fort? That’s where we’re going.’

‘No,’ Andrew says quickly, staring at the man.

‘I bumped into a bloke a couple of days ago, he said one of the forts on the coast is up and running. They got police and soldiers, like a proper government place with medics. Chap called Mr Howie runs it.’

‘Mr Howie? Never heard of him, is he like, a minister or something?’

‘The impression I got was that he’s from the army, got soldiers with him and army vehicles, you know, with proper machine guns and everything.’

‘Wow,’ Andrew blanches at the news, ‘we were going to head south tomorrow, just to, you know, get away from the town.’

‘Come with us,’ the man urges quietly, ‘got to be safer travelling together.’

‘Well, er…wow…er…that’s very kind of you.’

‘I’m Norman,’ the man takes a step forward with his hand held out.

‘Andrew, very nice to meet you Norman.’

‘Likewise Andrew, er…have you checked inside yet?’

‘Not yet, I was going to but er…well you scared the life out of me.’

‘I jumped rather high myself, er…shall we then? After you.’

‘Oh, er…thank you Norman.’

‘So we’ll just have to agree where to meet, oh dear…I think we’re too late.’

‘Yes, certainly looks that way,’ Andrew replies sadly looking at the empty shelves, the metal cover for the tobacco counter ripped back and the cash register lying on the ground.

‘Worth checking under the shelves do you think?’ Norman asks in a soft whisper.

‘Might as well,’ Andrew starts forward, dropping down to peer into the void between the base of the units and the linoleum floor, ‘we could meet here if it suits you.’

‘I was just thinking that,’ Norman replies, ‘the motorway is only a few miles away so we could aim for that, probably the quickest route.’

‘Hmmm, yes but er…’ Andrew lies down to grope into the empty space, the shadows too deep to see clearly, ‘bit dangerous though don’t you think?’

‘Good point,’ Norman grunts, ‘how about we follow the motorway then, you know, stick to the side.’

‘That could work,’ Andrew shifts position to reach under another unit, ‘oh I think I’ve got something here…definitely a tin, no…two tins…maybe more, I say could you reach in from the other side?’

‘Hang on, where are you?’

‘Over here at the end.’

‘Oh right, yes got you now. Just by the middle? Is that right?’

‘Yes that’s it, they’re just out of reach.’

‘Okay, got something.’

‘Er…that’s my hand.’

‘Oh my mistake, sorry Andrew.’

‘No problem Norman, just there off to my left.’

‘Oh yes, got something, hang on I’ll prod it your way.’

‘Got it!’

‘There’s another one here, I’ll prod again, you ready?’

‘Yes, got it…that’s two, anymore there?’

‘Something here Andrew, can’t quite reach it.’

‘Oh yes, I can prod it your way if that helps?’

‘Please do, yes got it.’

‘Think that might be it, I can’t feel anything else.’

‘We’ve got three though Andrew, not too bad. Can you see what they are?’

‘Too dark,’ Andrew replies, grunting to his knees he gets up and moves towards the door and the light of the moon shining down. Joined by Norman they stare down at the prizes held.

‘Baked beans,’ Andrew remarks of the first tin held up, ‘and plum tomatoes.’

‘Oh well done old chap, let’s see…er…spaghetti hoops I think,’ Norman reports.

‘I feel bad now,’ Andrew comments, ‘I’ve got two and you’ve only got one and we’ve both got two children.’

‘They can have half a tin each, it’ll keep them going until we find something else tomorrow,’ Norman replies.

‘What about you? When did you last eat?’

‘Me? Oh I’m okay…’ Norman says in a forced light tone.

‘No, this isn’t right, er…well what about we share one tin between us now and each take a tin back for our children?’ Andrew suggests.

‘Oh I couldn’t do that,’ Norman replies.

‘No, no I insist,’ Andrew presses on, ‘what about the plum tomatoes? I know my two would rather have the beans or the spaghetti.’

‘Well if you’re sure,’ Norman stares hungrily at the tin held by Andrew, ‘have you got an opener?’

‘Hang on, no look, it’s got one of those pull things, come on, what do you say we share some plum tomatoes?’

‘Well,’ Norman grins, ‘I would love to share the plum tomatoes with you.’

‘Here, would you hold this,’ Andrew passes the tinned beans over while he carefully pulls the lid back on the plum tomatoes. The smell hits them instantly, a rich tomato scent that gets their mouths watering.

‘After you,’ Andrew holds the open tin towards Norman.

‘Oh no old chap, you go first.’

‘I insist, you have the first one,’ Andrew prompts.

Placing the two tins down, Norman gently pushes his fingers into the rich sauce, groping to grip a peeled tomato, ‘slippery blighters,’ he comments as the tomato drops back in, ‘got it,’ he scoops it out and into his mouth, murmuring with delight at the taste.

‘Nice?’ Andrew asks.

‘Mmmm,’ Norman replies.

Andrew delves in, taking one of the big fruits and grappling it into his mouth. First savouring the rich taste as it soaks into his tongue and drips delightfully down his throat.

‘Oh god that was nice,’ Norman sighs. Andrew holds the tin out for him to take another one. Norman plunges in, scooping another to quickly mouth the morsel.

On Andrew’s second tomato he closes his eyes, thinking in amazement at how life has changed. To be stood in a ruined shop, with a polite stranger, sharing a tin of plum tomatoes and really enjoying them.

With the tomatoes gone, they each take a sip of the remaining juice, sharing the tin back and forth until the last is drained away.

‘That,’ Norman says sucking the sauce from his fingers, ‘was lovely.’

‘Truly,’ Andrew agrees, ‘how old are your children?’

‘My boy is six and my girl is fifteen.’

‘Never,’ Andrew exclaims, ‘mine are the same, Lilly and William, well Billy.’

‘You don’t say,’ Norman stares over in wonder, ‘well…small world, Samantha just turned fifteen a few months ago and Todd is six and a half now.’

‘What’s that word?’ Andrew screws his face up in concentration.

‘Fortuitous?’

‘Yes!’ Andrew beams, ‘very fortuitous. I don’t mind admitting I was petrified coming down here.’

‘Me too,’ Norman says, ‘utterly terrified I was, glad I bumped into you like that though.’

‘Oh definitely, shame we can’t all get together tonight.’

‘I wish we could,’ Norman agrees instantly, ‘but I don’t fancy bringing my two out in the dark. Sam would be okay but Todd wouldn’t like it.’

‘Oh gosh no,’ Andrew adds, ‘I wouldn’t chance it either.’

‘So we meeting here then?’ Norman asks.

‘If that’s alright with you?’

‘Sure,’ Norman nods, ‘you got a car?’

‘No, unfortunately not…er…had some financial problems so er…kind of had to give it back.’

‘Oh dear, recession was it?’

‘Yes,’ Andrew replies grimly, ‘bloody awful.’

‘Did my marriage in,’ Norman states, ‘I’m only hanging on by my fingertips, well I say that but er…don’t think it really matters now.’

‘No, guess it doesn't.’

‘Well, we can walk to the motorway if we don’t find something on the way.’

‘Agreed,’ Andrew nods, ‘well I better be getting back, nice to meet you again Norman.’

‘You too,’ shaking hands they nod and smile, both of them feeling a huge sense of relief at meeting the other, both of them feeling the tug to return to their families and both of them not wanting to go.

‘Have you got bags and things?’ Andrew asks quickly as a way of dragging it out for another minute.

‘Oh yes, we’ve got rucksacks, how about you? Anything you need?’

‘No, I don’t think so, I was going to pack a couple of books for Billy.’

‘I’ll do the same,’ Norman replies, ‘we can share then.’

‘Great, Lilly will be pleased, I think she’s getting rather fed up of just having her dad for company.’

‘Sam too,’ Norman grins, ‘well er…’

‘And you,’ they shake hands again as they step through the door into the moonlit street.

‘Oh the tins,’ Andrew laughs.

‘Oh crumbs,’ Norman chortles as Andrew retrieves them from the ground just inside the door, passing the spaghetti over.

‘That wouldn’t have gone down well,’ Andrew says.

‘No, definitely not, right well…er…see you here first thing then? You okay with that? If we go first thing?’

‘Absolutely, we’ll set off as soon as the sun is up, it shouldn’t take long.’

‘Same, see you in the morning then Andrew.’

‘Yes, see you Norman, nice to meet you again.’

‘You too, take care on the way home.’

‘And you Norman.’

Eight

‘You sure about this Dad? I mean, we don’t know them or anything.’

‘Honestly Lilly, he was a really nice man, we shared a tin of…’

‘Plum tomatoes, yes you said but how do you know he isn’t some axe wielding murderer?’

Andrew stops and stares at his daughter. There was a time when he would have stared down at his daughter, but now it was more or less straight across. He could, however, still look down at his son.

‘What do you think Billy? Do you want a new playmate?’

Rolling her eyes, Lilly shrugged her heavy bag higher up her back and tried to adjust the straps. It was a glorious morning with bright sunshine and already high temperatures. They were all sweating freely but that didn’t matter. Being outside in the open air was incredible. She felt like a prisoner being released into freedom and Billy was smiling properly for the first time in days too.

Clutching his rucksack he looked every inch the intrepid explorer, with a sun hat perched on his head and wearing his blue knee length shorts he tottered along clutching his father’s hand while he picked a route that avoided the worst atrocities.

By the end of their street those atrocities simply couldn’t be avoided and both Lilly and Billy saw their first dead bodies. The lightness of their mood plummeted instantly; Billy squeezing his dad’s hand tight as he stared in wonder at what looked like humans, only they had all the inside bits on the outside in a gooey mess with flies and writhing maggots feasting on the rotting cadavers.

Trepidation stole through Lilly as she both thanked the heavens for the change in her father’s behaviour but worried deeply about the coming days.

On his arrival home last night he was noticeably different; clutching a single can of beans like a hunter from the old days returning with a freshly killed deer. He spoke at length about Norman and how they’d worked together to find the food, and what a lovely chap he seemed, and he had two children the same age and they were going to meet up and head south. Andrew spoke about the fort and survivors and how a man called Mr Howie from the government had everything running properly and their mother was probably at the fort now waiting for them.

Lilly listened to the repeated tales through the night as they packed and prepared and she didn’t mind that he failed to notice she had mostly got everything ready.

By the time the sun was up they were ready, packed, dressed and set to leave. Billy had demolished the tin of beans with gusto. Lilly could see how hungry he was so only took a small mouthful, insisting that she wasn’t all that hungry really. The hunger pangs were almost painful but she knew that Billy would need the energy most.

Andrew’s mental state manifested during the packing process, displaying an inability to think rationally and trying to pack far too many bags. It was almost as though he was planning a holiday for two weeks in the sunshine instead of it being a desperate fleeing away from the horrors of the town centre and to stave off the risk of starvation.

Fifteen years old, still a child herself but Lilly became the maternal figure, using sound common sense and judgement to pack the real essentials. Light clothing seeing as it was hot. Lots of water and personal keepsakes. Her mother’s jewellery that could be used to barter for goods and despite her father’s protests, she shoved the kitchen knife into the top of her bag too.

‘So we’ll head for the fort and your mother will know where we are,’ Andrew repeated again. It seemed he was going over the same thing more for his own benefit rather than either of theirs. Maybe guilt for leaving? Lilly thought as she watched her Dad nervously glancing up and down the street.

Looking round herself she could see just how bad it was, the area looked like a warzone, or something from the movies. Houses were smashed up, windows and doors ripped out, cars left abandoned in the street and bodies everywhere.

The smells were weird too. The fetid, foul meat stench from the corpses was just awful, even from a distance it made her want to gag. But away from the death the air was different. Somehow more clean and pure. Like the sudden loss of mankind and all the fumes was already having an effect.

Billy swept his gaze from house to house, his young face lingering on the bodies in the street and doorways. Although he was quiet and withdrawn,  he seemed more interested than he was frightened.

‘It’s hot isn’t it,’ Andrew remarked to break the silence, his voice low and muted.

‘Very,’ Lilly replied equally as quiet.

‘Do you know any girls called Samantha your age?’ Andrew asked again.

‘Yes Dad,’ Lilly answered with forced patience, ‘quite a few.’

‘Got a brother called Todd, their father is…’

‘Norman, I know Dad, you’ve said a few times now. No, I don’t know…’

‘You alright Billy? Not too hot?’

‘I’m okay Daddy, who killed those people?’

‘Killed? How do you know they’re dead? They might just be sleeping.’

‘Their insides have come outside and that one doesn't have his head on, it’s over there by that red car.’

‘Oh right…yes his head is over there isn’t it.’

‘Why Daddy?’

‘Why what?’

‘Why is his head not on? Do heads come off?’

‘No Billy, heads are not meant to come off. I think he had an accident.’

‘Oh…did they all have accidents?’

‘Dad,’ Lilly intoned, ‘we talked about this…’

‘Yes I know Lilly,’ Andrew hissed, ‘can we just wait until we’re away from here.’

‘It’s going to be everywhere, he might as well know now.’

‘Know what Lilly?’ Billy asks, looking up at his sister. She stares at her father for long seconds. He returns the look but sags and just looks away, clearly not willing to say anything yet.

‘Nothing Billy,’ Lilly smiled.

‘Not nothing,’ Billy shakes his head, ‘did Mummy have an accident and her head fell off too?’

‘No Billy,’ Andrew snaps, ‘your mother is just stuck, that’s all.’

‘Stuck where Daddy?’

‘At work Billy, she’s stuck at work.’

‘Why doesn't she drive her car?’

‘The car doesn't work.’

‘Well she can get on a bus just like we do Daddy, when we go to the duck pond.’

‘The buses are all broken Billy.’

Silence for a few seconds, then followed with, ‘why Daddy? Why are the buses broken?’

‘They just are, we have to be quiet now Billy, Daddy needs to listen.’

‘What for Daddy?...Lilly? What is Daddy listening at?’

‘For, Daddy is listening for something not at something.’

‘What then?’

‘Shush now Billy, be quiet for a minute,’ Lilly asks quietly, picking up on her father’s rapid increase in nerves as they pass down a street where all the doors have been battered in.

Andrew nervously leads the way, threading through the deserted and silent streets. The oppressive heat only serves to enhance the ominous feeling as their feet crunch and step noisily along.

‘Are we there yet?’

‘Not yet Billy, be quiet for now please.’

‘Can I have something to drink please Lilly?’

‘Now Billy? Okay, hang on,’ she rummages through his back as he walks along, drawing a bottle of water out to hand down over his shoulder.

‘Water…haven’t we got any juice?’

‘Just water, that’s all we have…’

‘We always drink water now, Mummy used to give me juice and milk.’

‘We only have water for now,’ Lilly says quietly.

‘I need the toilet.’

‘We only left a few minutes ago, you said you didn’t need to go,’ Lilly sighs.

‘I didn’t…but I do now.’

‘Okay,’ she groans, ‘use that wall.’

‘Mummy said I wasn’t allowed to do a wee wee outside.’

‘I know but we’re allowed to now, they changed the rules.’

‘Did the teachers change the rules?’

‘Yes Billy, come on…hurry up.’

‘Ha look Lilly, I can wee really high….Dad….Dad….Daddy…look.’

‘That’s great Billy,’ Andrew says without looking, scanning the houses nearby for signs of movement. The walk was taking ages with Billy going so slow and he worried that Norman wouldn’t wait for them.

Hustling his young son he picks the pace up, urging Billy to keep going. Billy, after too many days of being stuck outside is full of wonder and awe at the outside world. Asking question after question. Where is everyone? Are all the cars broken? Is that car broken? What about that red one, is that broken?’ Who broke all the doors? Will the man get in trouble for breaking the doors? Is he a burger man because they said at school that burger men go into houses and steal toys? Can we get a burger now?’ Can we go to MacDonald’s later? Where do baby ducks come from?

Lilly fielded the questions deftly, speaking quietly as she too kept a constant vigil of the surrounding area.

‘That’s it,’ Andrew points ahead to the shop on the corner, ‘oh dear…no sign of them…maybe we’re too late.’

‘We should just keep walking,’ Lilly suggests, ‘or one of these houses will have keys for a car.’

‘Daddy said all the cars are broked.’

‘Broken, not broked,’ Lilly corrects automatically.

‘Andrew?’ Norman asks, stepping out from the shop doorway.

‘Norman! Glad to see you, sorry it took us longer than planned,’ Andrew smiles and waves, sounding to Lilly like he was apologising for being late for a game of golf, ‘Norman, this is my daughter Lilly and my son Billy.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ Norman offers a weak handshake to Lilly before tussling Billy’s hair, ‘hello young man.’

‘Hello,’ Billy looks up, ‘is your car broked too? My dad said all the cars and buses are broked but we’re going to MacDonald’s. Are you coming to MacDonald’s?’

‘Ah er…’ Norman smiles, unsure of how to respond.

‘We’re not going to MacDonald’s, we’re going for a long walk until we can find a car that isn’t broked…I mean broken…’ Lilly explains. She takes in the middle aged man, he looks the same as her father. Brown hair greying at the sides, medium build with a paunch and the same pale, worried pasty look.

‘This is Samantha and Todd, say hello Todd,’ Norman turns as two more figures step out of the shop. A young boy clutching a teddy bear with an older girl staring at them through scared eyes.

‘Hello,’ Andrew nods, holding his hand out to the girl, ‘I’m Andrew…’

‘Hi,’ Samantha mumbles quietly, she nods to Lilly then looks away. Dark haired and younger looking than Lilly wearing jeans and a black t shirt.

‘Were the beans nice?’ Norman asks Lilly with a forced grin.

‘Fine thank you,’ Lilly replies politely.

‘How about your spaghetti?’ Andrew asks.

‘Oh they enjoyed every mouthful, although it didn’t really last very long did it Sam?’

‘No,’ Sam shakes her head.

‘Well this is better isn’t it,’ Andrew smiles round, the same forced smile that Norman keeps stuck to his face, ‘you girls can talk about girly things…’

‘And us men can talk about manly things,’ Norman adds as Lilly struggles not to roll her eyes. How can they be so fake and forced? Don’t they see what’s going on around us?

‘Well, everyone ready then? I was thinking of staying on foot until the motorway and then trying to find transport once we’re away from the town…’ Norman says, his voice dropping to a low tone, ‘didn’t want to make any noise here…you know…engine sounds and drawing attention…’

‘No quite,’ Andrew nods, ‘I agree, on foot we shall go then.’

‘We should take a car,’ Lilly interjects, ‘we can get keys from one of these houses…it’ll be faster and safer in a car.’

Samantha stares at Lilly in surprise, nodding in agreement.

‘No Lilly,’ Andrew says as though embarrassed by her suggestion, ‘we should stay on foot until we get somewhere safer to get a car.’

‘Absolutely,’ Norman nods.

‘If here isn’t safe then why are we walking? We should be getting out of here,’ Lilly continues, making sure her tone is soft and easy, ‘there are loads of cars on these driveways, we should just take one and go.’

‘Thank you Lilly but I’m sure Norman and I know what’s best,’ Andrew says stiffly, glancing with admonishment at his daughter.

‘Oh I’m sure young Lilly here means well,’ Norman offers a weak smile, ‘and you’re fifteen Lilly?’ He asks with a fleeting glance at her developed chest.

‘Yes,’ she looks away feeling embarrassed and tries to cross her arms, an awkward movement hampered by the thick straps of the rucksack on her shoulders. She blushes as instead, she has to half cross them, feeling both stupid and exposed and wishing she hadn’t worn the tight vest top. She was used to men glancing down there, her mother was buxom and had told her from early in life to get used to it.

Samantha, seemingly unaware of her father’s glance at Lilly’s chest, stares at the new members of their group, flicking her gaze between her father and Andrew, at the similarities between them.

‘Are we ready then?’ Andrew asks the group in general.

‘I took the opportunity to mark out a route on a map,’ Norman produces a folded ordnance survey map to show Andrew the thick black line indicating the proposed route to the south coast.

‘Very good,’ Andrew nods eagerly, ‘very good indeed, well done Norman…I er…well I didn’t have a map so I couldn’t…

‘I don’t think anyone does anymore,’ Norman adds,‘ I foolishly went for my satnav before realising I couldn’t charge it up, luckily I had this old thing in a cupboard. I should imagine a lot has changed in the years but the route should be the same.’

They set off and within a few paces the dynamics of the group are obvious, as Andrew and Norman take the front, chatting politely between themselves in their newly formed mutual appreciation society. Both of them clutch the hands of their young sons who totter along beside them, staring furtively at each other.

Lilly and Samantha bring up the rear, letting a few paces develop between them and their fathers. In awkward silence they move along through the debris strewn streets. Lilly wishing they would see sense and take a car to get out of here quicker, Samantha wondering why she didn’t look like Lilly instead of her very slim, almost boyish physique.

‘Sorry,’ Lilly remarks quickly as she stumbles on a broken kerb stone, rubbing her shoulder against Samantha.

‘S’okay,’ the other girl replies instantly.

‘This bag is so heavy,’ Lilly tugs at the straps again, rotating her shoulders to try and ease the pressure.

‘Yeah mine too, it’s like, well killing my shoulders.’

‘Did you get packed last night?’ Lilly asks, glancing across at Samantha.

She nods and stares forward at her father and brother, ‘Dad was well weird when he got home last night,’ she whispers, ‘he was like, all excited at meeting your dad and kept going on about a tin of…’

‘Plum tomatoes?’ Lilly cuts in with a wry smile.

‘Yeah, like well going on about it,’ Samantha half grins.

‘Mine was too,’ Lilly steps in closer to drop her voice, ‘he must have told me the same story like a hundred times, how they were trying to reach under the shelves and prodding tins at each other.’

‘Yeah that was it,’ Samantha snorts, ‘where’s your mum? Er…if er….like, you know…is it okay to ask that?’

‘Of course,’ Lilly replies, ‘she was at work when it happened,’ she shrugs, ‘just didn’t see her again, no contact or word from her…we left notes at home saying where we are going. I thought Dad was going to keep us there for ever, we haven’t eaten properly for days.’

‘Same,’ Samantha nods, ‘it was our weekend with Dad, Mum lives miles away so like, we don’t know anything that has happened with her. Dad’s kept us in the house all the time, we were like, going crazy…and starving too.’

‘We should have taken a car,’ Lilly whispers, ‘I don’t know why they want to walk, it’s boiling out here and I know Billy won’t last long in this heat. He had most of the beans yesterday but still…’

‘If your dad is like mine then he won’t listen. I don’t like it here…all these houses all like smashed up and like…bodies everywhere…it’s well creepy.’

‘We can suggest it again when the boys start whining,’ Lilly conspires.

‘Okay, you like…you speak well nice…’ Samantha blurts out, then blushes furiously.

‘Dad sent me to a private school, we had elocution lessons…’

‘Oh you from like, you know, a posh house and all that?’

‘God no,’ Lilly shakes her head, ‘not now, Dad had a business but it went under. We lost the house and cars and I had to leave the private school, I was going to the High school here.’

‘Oh right,’ Samantha says, ‘my mum and dad split up cos he was working so much, she’s got a new boyfriend now, he’s really nice. Dad just works and gets like, well depressed and…’

‘Is he on pills? Mine is,’ Lilly interjects.

‘Yeah, takes ‘em every morning, they make him all monged out and weird for like an hour.’

‘They should get on well then,’ Lilly smiles, staring ahead at the two fathers talking away in hushed tones as they both nervously glance round the area.

‘Yeah right,’ Samantha smiles back, ‘he wouldn’t even like, take a knife or anything, he like said violence was never the way.’

‘I got one,’ Lilly whispers, ‘mine wouldn’t take one either so I put one in my bag, it’s at the top.’

‘Mine’s here,’ Samantha pulls her top up an inch or so, revealing the handle of a small knife tucked into the back of her waistband, ‘he might not like violence but we got Todd with us, so Dad’s got to protect him, you know…those things are well nasty.’

‘Have you seen them?’ Lilly asks.

‘Only outside going past the house, they were like well slow in the day and really like fast at night but we haven’t seen any for a day or…’

‘Same,’ Lilly nods, ‘Dad said all the food was gone too, I don’t think he realises how hungry we are.’

‘Todd had the spaghetti,’ Samantha cuts in, ‘I was starving, I still am like, but his little face when he saw them.’

‘We’ll give it an hour and get them to find food, or we can do it,’ Lilly says.

‘Yeah okay,’ Samantha nods eagerly, smiling across at Lilly.

They walk on, quietly talking sense between them while their fathers discuss golf clubs, cars and business projects. The two small boys still taking furtive glances at one another and now playing a game of poking tongues out and blowing raspberries.

Both girls realise within a short time that their fathers are too engrossed talking to keep a decent look out. They add it to their list of duties, constantly scanning ahead and to the sides and taking it in turns to turn round and check behind them.

As with many towns in the south of England, the urban sprawl soon gives way to suburbia, which in turn gently transforms into the picturesque rural spread of fields, lanes and meadows. With the heat blasting down they trudge on. Lilly and Samantha cajoling both the boys to drink and then taking the boys’ hands, leaving their fathers to merrily lead the way, almost painfully ignorant of the dangers they face.

Nine

Why was I being punched repeatedly in the stomach? They weren’t hard blows but they were consistent. Hazy dreams flooded my mind, images of my family and that actor, Paco Maguire.

At some point I drifted back to the present and looked down to see the back of Dave’s heels. I realised I wasn’t being repeatedly punched, it was his bony shoulder digging into my stomach as he carried me along. I think I puked at that point. The jolting, the dehydration and the metallic taste of blood in my mouth all conspired together to bring burning bile up my throat and onto the back of Dave’s legs.

I don’t know where we were going. I wanted to ask but speaking was beyond me. Consciousness was like trying to grasp a greasy bar of soap and kept slipping away. I felt the sensation of being carried for what felt like a long time, then I was on something soft. When I opened my eyes it was pitch black and I couldn’t tell the difference between my eyes being open and closed.

All I could think about was that heart being pushed into my mouth. It was dark when that happened so I didn’t see the heart but there was no doubt what it was, the fucking thing was still pumping as it was stuffed between my teeth. Thick blood shot out of the ventricles to fill my throat. I felt it die, like a wounded animal, slowly pumping the life out of itself.

At that point I wondered if my own heart recognised the beat of this heart in my mouth. I don’t know if am still alive if I’m honest. I really can’t tell. I could be one of the undead now, being carried off by Dave to have my head removed from my body.

Why was Paco holding a baby? Oh, right yeah, he’s the father of Sarah’s child, isn’t he. Is he? Was that real? Jesus, I can’t tell. I thought Sarah liked Clarence and I guess a person has the right to change their mind but wow that pregnancy must have flown by. Still, Mum and Dad will be pleased. They always wanted a grandchild and they knew the chances of me finding a suitable partner were pretty slim.

I hope they like Lani. She’s nice. I like Lani. She’s way better than Marcy. Whatever happened to Marcy? Does she know Paco? Maybe they’re friends or something. Oh, that could be awkward in the future if we all get together at a family function. What with me being with Lani and Marcy being good friends with Paco. How will that go down?

I shouldn’t worry about that now, Sarah is switched on and she can smooth it over. Hmmm. Actually it’s probably best I don’t go to the function, yeah…I can say I’ve got work or something. Mum and Dad won’t mind, they’ll understand.

I’m sleepy now. Really tired. It’s quiet in my flat tonight, I’m surprised the drunks aren’t making loads of noise going back from the town. Have I got work tomorrow? Did I set the alarm?

It’ll be okay, Dave will cover for me if I’m late in. My new bed is lovely and comfy.

I’m glad I got it.

‘Shush, sleep now.’

‘Okay Dad,’ I didn’t realise Dad was staying over. That’s nice of him, we can spend the day together tomorrow, maybe go that cake shop he likes in the next town. No, that burnt down didn’t it. Did I burn it down? Shit, maybe the police will arrest me for arson or something.

‘Sorry Dad, I burnt your cake shop down.’

‘Drink this,’ my head is lifted up which is a strange thing to do to someone when they’re sleeping. A cup is pressed to my lips and cold beautiful water pours into my mouth. My god, I’m so thirsty, I didn’t realise I was this thirsty.

‘Slow down,’ my father intones but I want more and drain the cup down greedily. My head rests back a second later it’s being lifted up and more water is being poured into my mouth. I try to say something but end up spitting water over my dad.

‘Drink…Good….Now rest.’

‘Thanks Dad, love you.’

Dave watches Howie closely, that worried look still on his face but slowly easing off. His vital signs were good. His heart and pulse were strong, his breathing normal. His pupils looked right and he wasn’t too hot or cold.

Shock. Shock and dehydration. He needs rest and fluids. Checking his eyes he notices the absence of any redness. Just normal white, with the dark iris barely discernible against the blackness of his pupils.

Sitting back on his haunches, Dave thinks hard. Drawing his knife he taps the blade against his leg, considering the options.

Mr Howie is immune. Infected blood went into his mouth. A whole heart was in his mouth and you can’t get more infected blood than from a still beating heart.

Mr Howie kissed Lani. Lani is immune. Who passed the immunity to whom? Lani turned, so that suggests she had a weaker strain of immunity than Mr Howie. Shaking his head he realises that doesn't mean anything. Genetics, mutant strains of DNA and cell structure simply didn’t work like that.

Mr Howie and Lani could both be uniquely immune, the chances of that are very slim but it is possible.

But the infected fear Mr Howie. There is something different about him. Something unique. They don’t fear Lani and she’s immune now, or is she? Maybe she is carrying the virus but just not showing it.

It makes sense to Dave; that the reason they fear Mr Howie was because he couldn’t be turned. He is the key to ending the infection. He is the natural anti-body.

Dave’s mind was unique. He wasn’t thick and he didn’t have low intelligence. His brain was simply structured differently to most other people, and right now, he knew the limitations of his knowledge and figuring this out was beyond him.

So with nothing else to do, he drank water, washed and kept a very close eye on Mr Howie. Taking regular trips to the front door to listen intently for sounds of approaching undead.

When they did come he showed no reaction. First moving to the back door and double checking it was locked and secure. He pulled the lounge door closed and then opened the front door to stand in the frame. Listening. Waiting.

Two new knives sourced from the kitchen and sharpened to his exact standard were gripped in his hands.

They must have spread out after the Saxon went off. That was the most logical thing to do. They couldn’t chase a moving vehicle so they filtered off to hunt the others down.

Bare feet slapping against the road made a distinctive noise, and lots of bare feet slapping against the road made an even more distinctive noise.

Standing stock still, Dave watches as the undead run past the gate. There was quite a few of them but none had picked up on Dave’s or Mr Howie’s scent. Scratching his head with the handle of a knife Dave considers this.

He and Mr Howie were immersed in the bodies of the fallen zombies. So they were saturated in their stench. That must be why Mr Howie was left alone after the heart was shoved in his mouth. In the darkness, the confusion and the cramped space they couldn’t find him. They couldn’t smell him.

It had been a long night already, and the preceding few days have been non-stop. Dave can feel the ebb of fatigue just starting to gnaw away but an idea steals into his mind. The infection is a conscious entity, it must be. It drives those hosts like they are part of a super organism. It reacts with increasing speed and is constantly developing and evolving, changing tactics and strategies.

Mr Howie is down right now, he needs rest and if the rest of the team are out there, fractured and alone, they will need rest too. The last thing they need is to be running and fighting all night, for as fit and strong as they are, they will soon drop from exhaustion.

With an almost imperceptible shrug Dave reaches the conclusion. He doesn't fear the decision, nor does he question it. The action he must take is logical and besides, it will give him a chance to test a theory.

Turning round he gauges the door behind him and the length of the path, judging distance and special awareness. He takes a step forward and checks again, reaching an arm out to ensure he can reach the door from this distance, making small precise adjustments to gain the perfect position.

Once satisfied he fixes his gaze on the garden gate and the low wall running either side of it. His mind works out the routes they will take and tracks back to his position. The window negates this position. A big bay window designed to allow maximum light into the front room. A body crashing through that will take out most of the large panes leaving a perfect route in.

No good. Instead he locks the front door, making sure it is firmly closed before making his way down the path to the gate, pausing until the last of the undead have staggered past. Only then does he step out into the road, taking purposeful strides to the middle and then moving a short distance along, double checking that he still has a view of the house within which Mr Howie rests.

They can’t smell Mr Howie so they don’t know which house he is in, nor do they know if he is in this area.

‘Here,’ Dave calls out and watches as the horde react as one, stopping to turn and face back down the road towards the small man illuminated in the silvery light of the moon.

Dave turns to check behind him, sensing movement and spotting the next lot coming up the road.

The first horde start moving back but they don’t run. They walk steadily, turning his head he spots the horde coming from the other direction have also slowed to come in at a slower pace.

Interesting. Another change of tactic. Not running full on to charge in but taking a steadier pace to ensure they all come together at the same time.

The knives in hands are flicked up so the reverse side of the blade presses against his forearms. Slowly, his flicks his gaze left and right, watching and tracking each horde as they move in.

Rolling his head, Dave stretches his neck and starts rotating his shoulders, at the same time he brings first one knee to his chest, then the next.

‘My name is Dave,’ he says out loud, his clear voice carrying with ease into the quiet street, ‘you went after Mr Howie,’ he adds, pausing as he rotates his wrists, circling his hands gripping the knives. ‘So now I will go after you,’ he continues, ‘and I won’t stop…’ He stares to one side, fixing his eyes on the approaching horde, ‘bring more,’ he turns his head to face forward, using peripheral vision to monitor the approach but appearing to stare away unconcerned, ‘bring many more…bring all of you…’ they’re close now, edging in with slow deliberate movements. The sheer hunger pours off them, the raging violence pulses through the hordes. Visible and tangible, the electric atmosphere would make the strongest, hardest men piss themselves in fear. The sight of the drawn creatures with clawed hands, sunken hollow eyes, thin lips pulled back to show blood encrusted teeth, hair thinning, wounds festering and writhing with maggots that eat away at the flesh.

At the last second, Dave pushes his left foot back and brings his right arm across his chest. He takes a slow deep breath and waits. That rare thing crosses his face as he starts to smile, a slight tugging of the lips that blossoms into a big grin the very second they release and surge forward.

He holds until the very last split second of impact then spins round, stretching his arms out to scythe the blades across many throats. The first corpses fall as the first of the blood is spilled onto the hot surface of the road.

He moves as water through a dam of twigs and stones, finding holes and gaps to move through. All the time his knives thrusting and sweeping. He uses his legs to trip them, cutting throats as they fall. Each time they lunge to where he is, he is simply not there anymore. He is where he needs to be, in that space there between the two big males. They twist with rage to lunge but that space is empty and those big males are losing their life blood as it spurts out from the severed arteries in the their necks. By the time this is even realised; several more have gone down.

Alone now and he fights the best way he knows. He doesn't have to monitor Mr Howie or any of the team. It is just him and them. His sole focus is which space to slide into and which throat to penetrate next.

When they surge in too hard and close the gaps he uses the falling body of an undead as a stepping stone to leap high and plummet down further away. Creating confusion and mayhem. It’s dark and it takes them seconds to know where he is, just a trail of bodies that fall, one after the other after the other.

Those fallen bodies create trip hazards and Dave tracks his own progress working in certain direction to force the oncoming ranks to go over those bodies, knowing some will trip and create gaps he can use to his advantage.

His energy is relentless. His life force unstoppable. He knows that while they are coming for him, they are leaving the others alone. This gives them something to focus on and lets the everyone else have a chance to rest, wherever they might be.

On the tips of his toes he pirouettes, one knee bent to provide balance for the central fugal force as his outstretched arms rip through neck after neck.

Down he goes, dropping to take an apparent bow but he slides several steps back into the space he had already seen. The knives are thrust backwards, driving the points into two throats, he drops again and takes more steps back, hacking left and right through Achilles heels to force them down onto the ground.

Like playing cards they drop and Dave is no longer in that space. Two huge strides and he is deep within the ranks again, weaving and dancing. His face looks serene and content. His breathing, although harder and faster than normal is controlled.

He gives bursts of energy, driving his body to work to the maximum capability, sensing his heart rate bursting higher. That burst of speed and power allows him to fell many within a few seconds and create a much larger space.

Then he rests, sliding back into the ranks to allow his heart rate to recover, controlling his breathing with deep breaths. All around him they growl and roar, they howl and snarl but they die.

Howie once joked that all they ever needed was Dave with his knives and looking down there is a small man in the middle of a huge pressing horde of writing bodies driven by the virus within them to destroy this thing that cuts so many hosts down.

Ten

Day Fourteen

Thursday

On her feet, meat cleaver gripped tight and ready, eyes wide and staring as her heart races. Meredith jumps to her feet instantly, growling at the sight of Lani going from full sleep to fighting pose. The dog stares about looking for the threat that the woman must be seeing. She spins, checking all directions but her excellent eyes and ears detect nothing.

Lani breathes hard and becomes aware of her actions, not knowing why she leapt to her feet but here she is, up and ready. Legs shaking and her mouth so dry she can barely swallow, her head pounds from dehydration as slowly she lowers the weapon and looks about.

Strong sunlight streaming through the open sides of the car park forces the shadows of the night to retreat in. The ever continuing battle between light and dark. A noise behind has her spinning round only to see Meredith squatting to take a long piss, the urine pooling out between her back legs. Finished she stands up and turns to sniff at the puddle, seemingly satisfied she walks closer to Lani and stares up.

Where are the team? What happened to Howie and the others? Those thoughts flood into her mind only to be trounced by a raging thirst that burns through her insides. Throat dry and painful, mouth drier and even her eyes feel sore and dry.

Neither of them will be any good if they don’t drink and rehydrate, and with the threat of another scorching day, that action needs to be sooner rather than later. Walking towards the vehicle ramp, she takes in the mangled bodies with an instant over-powering feeling that she will see Howie or one of the others amongst the corpses.

Lani stops with her eyes screwed tight, dreading the view of seeing her team amongst the corpses. With a deep breath she opens her eyes and scans the bodies, searching for any tell-tale sign of them. Nothing here and she pauses, wondering if to go higher or head out for a drink. The thirst is severe, but what if one of the them were lying injured, unable to move or crawl away. With that thought imprinted in her mind she doesn't hesitate but to start back up the ramp towards the top.

Meredith moves over the bodies without concern, her natural four wheel drive giving her excellent traction control. She views the remains with relative ease, checking what’s left of ruined faces, hair colour and clothing. Lani keeps moving up to the top level, grimacing at the sheer numbers taken down during the fighting. The twisted body parts that were thrown at them still litter the area, spent ammunition cases and useless weapons thrown aside as the youths went for hand weapons.

She spots the large circular swathes cut down by Clarence wielding his double bladed axe and the never ending amount of throats slit open from Dave’s knives.

A sadness steals through her heart at the sight of the first youth, easily recognisable from the cleaner clothes and fresh look of the corpse. Taken and turned, only to be cut down minutes later. More of them lie fallen amongst the piles and a sense of guilt adds to the conflict of emotions that she feels.

Meredith is nose down following familiar scent tracks to the door leading to the stairwell, whining as she paws at the closed doors. Lani moves over, spotting the small pile of assault rifles stripped of magazines. The sight suggests someone gathered the fallen weapons to use whatever ammunition was left.

Would Maddox think to do that? It smacks of something Dave would do, or maybe Nick and it’s a good idea. She pulls her pistol out and checks the magazine, still full. The hand weapon was unused during the fight so at least she still has a sidearm.  She picks one of the rifles up and checks the breech and moving parts before starting to sift through the bodies searching for any magazines left.

Everything has been spent and used but she keeps the rifle with her, pushing an empty magazine in before looping it round her back on the strap. Plenty of weapons here, shotguns, rifles and some of the weapons sourced from the refinery too. Biting her bottom lip, she worries about leaving them here, knowing how hard it was to find them in the first place.

Too many to carry, that’s for sure. Instead she gathers them up, wincing as the pain in her head explodes every time she bends down, followed by a wave of dizziness when she stands back up.

A flash of memory, of Tom in the back of the Saxon complaining about feeling sick and weak and Clarence telling him about heat exhaustion. He said to drink loads of fluids and rehydrate and that’s what she needs to do now. The feeling is distracting to the point of being unable to focus on anything else. Drink. Find water. Her body screaming out that she may be fit and small, she may have greater stamina than most, but even she needs fluids.

With the weapons stacked on the inside of the doors to the stairwell, she starts heading down, clocking the injuries sustained to the corpses. Clear axe marks, skulls cleaved open and limbs hacked through. No doubt about it, after days of fighting alongside the others, she would recognise the wounds better than any pathologist.

Someone came down here and fought their way out. The thought gives her hope, propelling her to move faster which just brings on a fresh wave of nausea. Biting it down, Lani snarls with contempt, refusing to let the ill feeling take over.

At the bottom she stares in wonder at the deep pile of bodies and feels a deep sense of pride that whoever came down here took so many down. Out into the sunshine and she thinks of who it could have been, which only serves to enhance the feeling of pride.  It could have been any apart from Dave, their fighting abilities are now so good it’s almost impossible to tell them apart.

If she had to guess she would say Blowers and Cookey, simply for the fact the number of bodies that have been taken down suggests two worked together. Could have been Clarence?. No, she saw Clarence at the rear of the Saxon going down the ramp. So it must have been one of the lads.

Shielding her eyes from the sun she steps through the bodies and takes in the surrounding view. The High Street still burns fiercely, with long rows of shops now well alight with thick black smoke billowing up into the sky. Several junctions lead off to residential side streets with rows of houses on either side.

Lani stares up at the thick smoke pluming into the air, a perfect smoke signal and something everyone can aim for. Clarence got away with the Saxon so it’s only a matter of time before he gets back. Turning round she takes in the surrounding streets, looking at each junction in turn. A long line of bodies mark the route the Saxon took down the main road. If the lads got away from here they would head for the shelter of the side streets, somewhere they could hunker down and get water.

Nodding to herself she sets off for the nearest junction, purposefully keeping to the middle of the road and watching Meredith as she runs round in large loops with her nose to the ground. With luck the dog will pick up on the scent of the lads and lead her to them. But didn’t Howie say the dogs had to be trained to do that? Maybe all dogs have the natural ability but have to be trained to show the handler where the trail leads.

Into the first street and she stares closely at the first houses, looking at the doors and windows. She wouldn’t choose one that was too smashed in as it would be indefensible, likewise something that was completely intact would stand out too much. The first few are discounted simply for the sheer amount of damage they have sustained but the further from the town she goes, the less the damage is apparent.

Meredith stops and spins back, her nose just millimetres above the ground. Lani watches her closely as she loops round and round then stays still for long seconds, sniffing one spot over and over. Then she’s off, tracing a route down the pavement and actually weaving in the pattern someone would take if they were running.

There are no bodies here, which suggests whoever came this way managed to evade any undead coming after them.

The dog veers a sharp left, turning into a front garden where she pursues the scent trail to the front door, then stops and looks back at Lani as if to say well open it then.

Smiling she gently presses down on the door handle. The front door is intact with just some minor signs of damage and it opens inwards. With one hand clutching the dogs collar, she steps in quietly and stares down the hall to the two bodies slumped against the kitchen cupboards.

The smile stretches into a grin as she notices Cookey has slumped down to rest his head on Blowers shoulder, a thick spool of saliva drips from his slightly open mouth as they both snore peacefully. She pats her pockets, searching for her IPod to use the camera, remembering it’s in the Saxon rigged up to the loudspeaker. That would be perfect, a picture of these two slumbering together like this.

‘Good morning!’ She booms instead, watching with glee as they both jump out their skins. They are instantly awake and on their feet, both of them staring with wide eyes at the fright of being woken like that. ‘You left the door unlocked,’ Lani continues cheerfully, ‘what would Dave say? Both of you sleeping like that? Tut tut….’

‘Eh?’ Blowers stares as though entranced, his face a picture of shock and surprise at the sight of Lani stood there grinning. She lets the dog go, watching as she sprints down the hall to the lads, whining with pleasure as she snakes round their legs.

‘Lani!’ Cookey eventually says, blinking hard as he tries to shake the sleep from his mind, ‘what you doing here?’

‘Meredith found you,’ Lani replies. She heads straight for the sink and lifts the plastic bowl out, emptying the contents before twisting the tap on to re-fill it. ‘I figured it was you two that went down the stairs…’

‘Yeah,’ Blowers nods, still clearly reeling from the rude awakening.

‘I saw Clarence going off with the Saxon and some of Maddox’s lot, he must have had Paula and Roy with him…’

‘Yeah he did,’ Cookey cuts in, ‘we were on the top when all hell broke out, poor kids got taken down at the door so we took it…’

‘I saw the bodies,’ Lani replies grimly, placing the bowl down she watches for a second as Meredith dives straight in, her long pink tongue lapping at the liquid. Grabbing a glass she fills it and starts drinking, savouring the perfection of cool water cascading into her dry mouth and soothing her burning throat.

‘That’s so nice,’ she mutters, re-filling the glass to drink again.

Blowers rubs his eyes and stretches, groaning from the ache in his tired muscles. Cookey, watching Blowers, catches the yawn and follows up with one of his own before ferreting through his pockets for cigarettes.

‘You seen the boss?’ Blowers asks, his voice low and worried.

Shaking her head, Lani finishes the second glass and slowly moves it away from her mouth, ‘no, I went through the bodies as best I could but nothing…someone had taken all the weapons apart on the top level, looked like they were going through them for ammunition…’

‘Dave?’ Cookey asks.

‘Sort of thing he’d do,’ Lani nods.

‘Or Nick,’ Blowers adds, ‘he’s switched on like that, any sign of him?’

‘None,’ Lani shakes her head again.

‘Fuck,’ Cookey sighs, placing his hands on the top of his head as a deeply worried look crosses his face, ‘what now?’ he asks quietly.

‘What happened to you then?’ Blowers cuts in.

‘I went after Howie but lost him,’ Lani explains, ‘I got down onto the second level and got stuck with a group coming after me, that’s when Meredith found me…we kept looking round and I saw the Saxon go down but couldn’t get close to it…we backed off and…’

‘You been there all night?’ Cookey asks, ‘bloody hell, didn’t they find you?’

‘They’ve all gone,’ she replies, ‘I did the same as you and passed out, woke up and the place was deserted….I reckon they went after the Saxon.’

‘Clarence will come back,’ Blowers nods to himself.

‘That’s what I figured, get some water and we’ll head back to wait, there’s loads of weapons left there too but no rounds.’

‘That empty then?’ Blowers nods at the assault rifle strapped to her back.

‘It’s for show,’ she gives a quick grin, re-filling the glass for another long drink.

‘Fuck,’ Cookey groans again, ‘so Clarence went off with the Saxon, Dave went after the boss …and what about Nick? Where did he go? Did he get out with the Saxon? Hang on….shit it was him up top firing…yeah…yeah definitely he was up top.’

‘You saw him?’ Lani asks quickly.

‘Definitely,’ Cookey nods firmly.

‘Thank fuck for that, so just Dave and the boss then?’ Blowers says.

‘Did you see the way they went after him?’ Cookey says, ‘just fucking swirling round all crazy and shit…he got sucked right in…’

‘He was still fighting though,’ Blowers adds quickly, ‘and Dave was right after him.’

‘We need to get back,’ Lani urges, ‘get some water while I use the bathroom.’

‘There’s no bog roll if going for a poo,’ Cookey calls out.

‘Thanks Cookey,’ Lani shouts as she heads up the stairs.

‘Use some of the clothes they left,’ Cookey shouts helpfully.

‘I don’t need a poo, thanks all the same though.’

‘You are a fucking nightmare,’ Blowers shakes his head, filling two glasses he passes one over and starts drinking his own down, burping noisily as he finishes it off.

‘Look at the state of her,’ Cookey nods at the dog still lapping at the water. Blowers glances down, grimacing at the fur matted with dried blood and the water in the bowl now a pink colour from the blood that had dried and congealed round her muzzle and made wet again from her messy drinking.

‘Any cloths in there?’ Cookey points to the cupboard under the sink.

‘Check the garden mate, might be a hose we can use.’

‘He’s a bossy fucker isn’t he,’ Cookey says to the dog, ‘always bossing me about isn’t he, yes he is…’

‘Fuck you, have you found a hose yet?’

‘Does it look like it?’ Cookey asks, his hand still on the closed door handle.

‘What about now?’

‘Fuck off!’

‘What about now,’ Blowers repeats as Cookey gets the door open, stepping out into the bright sunshine.

‘Shit it’s hot out here.’

‘It’s hot in here,’ Blowers counters.

‘It’s fucking hot everywhere, here mate…bring her outside.’

‘She’s still drinking,’ Blowers replies.

‘Well duh! Bring the bowl out then.’

‘Clever fucker,’ Blowers mutters. Picking the bowl up, he heads into the garden, throwing the contents onto the dried up flower beds as Cookey twists the hose on. They fill the bowl first then start on Meredith, the cool spray hitting her flanks and soaking into her matted coat.

‘She’s filthy,’ Blowers comments.

‘Just like your mum then,’ Cookey quips.

‘She’s filthier than my mum.’

‘Not possible…sorry mate but it’s…’

‘She alright?’ Lani calls out, walking through the kitchen to the back door. Her face freshly scrubbed and hair rinsed of the gore from the nights events.

‘You wearing a different top?’ Cookey asks with a puzzled glance.

‘Found it in one of the drawers, fits okay,’ Lani looks down at the plain black t shirt, ‘there’s more stuff up there, you had a look yet?’

‘Not yet,’ Blowers replies, pushing his finger over the end of the hose to make the spray come out harder.

‘Er…well maybe you should,’ Lani says in a blunt tone, ‘you’re both filthy…on second thoughts, keep doing that and I’ll find something…you should get those trousers rinsed off, they’ll have dirty blood all over them.’

‘Oh my god,’ Cookey gives a theatrical cry, ‘you’re both so bossy,’ shaking his head he carries on muttering to himself.

‘I’m not standing in my pants waiting for them to dry,’ Blowers screws his face up.

‘Fine, I’ll find something you can wear on your bottom half then too.’

‘Ha, get him a skirt,’ Cookey laughs, ‘that’ll be funny.’

‘You’re in a good mood,’ Blowers says quietly after Lani has walked off.

‘Not really mate,’ Cookey replies with a sudden downcast look, ‘I’m shitting myself about the boss and the others.’

‘Yeah,’ Blowers says, he goes to add something but just shrugs and starts working along her coat, using a dustpan brush to scrub at the matted fur. Meredith stands patiently waiting for them to finish. This seems to be a normal occurrence now. They let her get filthy and then insist on giving her a bath, still she enjoys the fuss and attention and the cool water feels nice in the high heat. Disappearing inside, Cookey starts going through the cupboards, ransacking the contents in search of food.

‘Will she eat cat food?’ He calls out.

‘Why wouldn’t she?’

‘She’s not a cat is she, she’s a dog,’ Cookey replies as if the answer is obvious.

‘She doesn't know that,’ Blowers scoffs.

‘What, you reckon she thinks she’s a cat?’

‘No you plank, she doesn't know its cat food.’

‘Hmmm,’ Cookey considers the reply for a long second, ‘good point, here moggy…try this,’ upending the box he scatters the contents onto the ground. Meredith moves round, first sniffing the biscuits before digging in and taking big mouthfuls, ‘bloody hell, she’s hungry…’ Cookey pours the entire contents out, letting the dog work her way through it as Blowers finishes off washing her.

Staring down at the bloody water, Cookey thinks back to the previous night and the horrible feeling tugging away inside of him. This is the first time since they met that they’ve been separated and it’s horrible. He’s thankful for being with Blowers and Lani, and Meredith of course, but it feels like a deep part of him is missing.

‘We’ll find them,’ Blowers says softly at seeing the worried look on Cookey’s face.

‘Yeah, yeah okay…’

They work quickly, using the hose to scrub the worse of the filth and bits of body from their clothes, spraying detergent onto them to disinfect the bacteria.

By the time Lani returns, they’re both stood in boxer shorts, their clothes washed, wrung out and now stretched out to dry in the sun. Smoking away, they act completely normal, not batting an eye when Lani steps out carrying a bundle of clothes. She rolls her eyes at the sight and shakes her head, trying desperately to keep the normal behaviour up whilst having that gnawing feeling of panic inside her, panic that they should be doing something, anything. Searching or waiting back at the car park. But Dave’s lessons have been installed deep, clean your kit whenever you can. Take care of your kit and yourself.

They’ll know to wait in the area close to the car park, and they’re probably doing the same thing they are, washing and cleaning up from the previous night.

Convincing herself that that is the case, she stands watching the dog eat and wishing they had some food too.

‘I just said to fucknuts,’ Blowers calls out, ‘that they’ll be okay…we’ll find them, they know to wait near here for Clarence to come back.’

Nodding back, Lani stares up at the sky and bites her bottom lip with the same feeling both Blowers and Cookey have, that something deep is missing, something vital taken away. The whole has been made less than whole. A part of her is missing.

Eleven

‘As soon as we get inside, get everyone out and get ready to go back out.’

‘We need fuel.’

‘Right,’ Clarence growls, rubbing one large meaty hand over his large face in a vain attempt to knead the tension away, ‘we get fuel and get back out.’

‘Er…the fuel truck is back in the town,’ Paula twists round, wincing as she sees the dark look spreading across his face.

‘Right listen in,’ Maddox booms, ‘you lot will go find some vehicles that use diesel and syphon some fuel off, get it back here you get me?’

‘Will do Mads,’ one of the youths replies quickly. Squished into the side bench seats with the huge form of Clarence standing over them, the rear of the Saxon is both exceptionally hot and exceptionally cramped. The youngest of the crews, handpicked by Maddox, were not happy at being taken away from the fighting. It was a sign of weakness, of being younger and vulnerable, and their backgrounds dictated that you never showed a weakness.

Whilst the rest star burst from the hordes of undead pressing in, the Saxon gained speed and was soon out of danger, speeding down the main road and onto the motorway. All of them feeling wretched at leaving their comrades, mates, friends and colleagues alone with that load of filthy diseased and violent zombies after them.

Clarence took charge, the professional soldier doing the right thing by working to save and protect the youngest. All of them were exhausted, drained from heat and constant action, and it wasn’t long before some of the children started dropping off, their young heads lolling with closed eyes, instantly transforming their young faces to look like the children they really were.

Now, with Clarence and Maddox shouting orders, they snap awake, eyes wide as they realise where they are.

‘Maddox, can you grab another vehicle, get a van or something big that can carry lots of people.’

‘We’ll do that,’ Paula shouts back, ‘you get the fuel and we’ll find the vehicles…have you got any more weapons?’

‘Maybe some shotguns left but I think it got stripped out,’ Clarence mutters, ‘grab what you can…but we’ve got to be quick.’

‘How will you know where to look for them?’ Roy calls out from his position driving the Saxon.

‘My lot will stay close, they’ll know we’re coming back.’

‘We left a lot of those zombies there though,’ Roy replies, ‘they could have forced them further out…it could take some doing to find them.’

‘Then doing is what we’ll do,’ Clarence growls, his voice deep and hoarse.

‘Those children need some sleep,’ Roy continues, ‘they’re exhausted, you can’t expect them to go back out.’

‘We’re alright, we ain’t fuckin’ staying,’ one of the louder children shouts quickly.

‘You are,’ Clarence glares them into submission, ‘one, we need the space in the vehicles to bring the others back. Two…you need rest and fluids…’

‘We ain’t pussies,’ the youth scoffs.

‘And three…’Clarence continues, ‘the fort has been left undefended, we need people back there to guard it…you get me?’ He adds caustically. The edge in his voice and the sheer size of the man drops the children into silence.

‘He’s right, stay there and help Lenski,’ Maddox adds, ‘I’m coming with you, Darius too.’

‘Fuck yeah,’ Darius adds from the far back of the Saxon.

‘Okay, so fuel and weapons…then straight back out…any water down there?’ Clarence asks.

‘Can’t see a fucking thing bruv,’ Darius replies, ‘and we’re too stuffed in to get anythin’ from the floor too.’

‘We’re not far off,’ Roy replies.

‘What happened back there?’ Paula asks, ‘why did they do that?’

‘They wanted the boss…’ Clarence replies, his glare fixed.

‘Never seen ‘em do that before,’ Roy cuts in, ‘swirling like that, worked a fucking treat though didn’t it? Christ that Howie got sucked right in…’

‘Roy,’ Paula warns in a low voice.

‘How anyone can survive that is beyond me, he must have gone right into that tunnel…poor man…’

‘Roy,’ Paula warns with an increasingly loud voice.

‘What?’ He turns to ask, a look of innocence on his face, ‘oh…er…yeah but you know…he’s probably be okay,’ he adds weakly.

‘Dave went after him,’ Clarence mutters, his voice dropping several more octaves.

‘Yeah but one man against that many,’ Roy carries on oblivious to the glare from Paula.

‘Dave will find him…nothing can defeat that man,’ Clarence says louder this time, ‘Dave will find him,’ he adds more to himself.

‘I think we’re close now,’ Paula calls out, tactfully changing the subject, ‘yep, we’re onto the long road…’

‘Good,’ Clarence mutters. Dave did go after the boss and nothing can defeat Dave. Dave is unstoppable. He’ll defend Howie to the last breath in his body. Clarence repeats these thoughts to himself, fending off the rising feeling of fear gripping his insides.

A steel core runs through the giant man. He won’t rest or stop until he’s found every member of the team. They’ll stay close and wait. He knows this is what they will do. Words and instructions weren’t needed, they never actually discussed what to do if something like happened, but they know he’ll go back.

‘Flash the light,’ Maddox calls out, ‘let them know we’re coming in.’

‘Righto,’ Roy shouts, fiddling with the controls to figure out the right button to use. The powerful beam of light starts alternating between full and dipped, signalling ahead to get the gates open.

‘Er…there’s a chap stood outside,’ Roy shouts back, ‘he’s got a shotgun or something…’ Clarence forces his bulk forward to stare out the window, looking ahead at the solitary figure picked out by the lights. One man stood there holding a long barrelled weapon. Legs planted apart with a stocky physique.

‘Who is he?’ Maddox asks.

‘No idea,’ Clarence replies, a feeling of dread coursing through him.

The Saxon pulls up a short distance from the gates. The man holding the gun uses one hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the lights, waving to turn them off. Roy obliges, switching them to side lights and watching as the man lowers his hand and resumes the solid stance.

‘Get the doors open.’ Clarence urges the youths out the way as he drops down out the back doors and strides round the vehicle, Maddox and Darius running to join him either side. Paula and Roy are already out the front doors and walking ahead.

‘Stay there,’ the man calls out in a warning tone, bringing the weapon to aim forwards.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ Maddox calls out.

‘Watch your tone,’ the man snaps back, ‘you must be the returning hero’s then.’

Clarence doesn’t break stride but keeps heading towards the man, his peripheral vision picking up the movements of the rest as they fan out to present a much wider target. The man sweeps the gun side to side, a double barrelled shotgun that Clarence notices is held with steady hands.

‘Who are you?’ Clarence asks, his voice menacingly low.

‘I’m the man holding the big gun,’ the man replies, trying to match the menacing tone but failing.

Roy drops back to the Saxon, reaches in to draw his compound bow and a single arrow, and tugs the night vision goggles over his face. Once done, he steps away to the side, absorbing into the shadows, banking on the fact the man will be watching Clarence and the others.

‘This is our place now,’ the man adds quickly seeing the big man coming at him, ‘we’ve got armed men inside and we’ll fucking kill everyone if you…’

‘What?’ Clarence asks, ‘I don’t have time for this…get out the fucking way.’

‘Keep coming big boy,’ the man raises the weapon to aim at Clarence, ‘come on…see what happens…’ he tried to sound tough but this wasn’t going how it was meant to be. This man was massive and he looked angry but above all else, he didn’t look scared at all. The others were moving out quietly to the sides too, making it harder for him to track everyone. So instead he kept the gun trained on the big fella.

‘Toby? You alright?’ A voice calls out from the other side of the gate, ‘what’s going on?’ Toby doesn’t answer. The slight distraction of the voice calling out was enough for Clarence to deftly step in and grip his throat, virtually lifting the man off the floor.

‘Toby? Toby?’ The voice calls out again, more urgent this time. Toby drops the weapon, his primal instinct kicking in to draw oxygen into his system, something he is unable to do due to the pressure being applied.

‘Your man is fucked bruv,’ Maddox shouts, ‘come out or we’ll kill him.’

‘Toby?’ The voice shouts with alarm.

Gently, Clarence lowers Toby to the floor just the one hand gripping his throat. His baleful eyes stare deep into Toby’s soul. Toby sees the eyes of a killer, the eyes of a man who has seen everything there is to see.

‘I’m gonna let go,’ Clarence whispers, ‘make a sound…one fucking sound and I’ll rip your larynx out…understand?’ Toby nods, a quick firm motion done with a bright red face starved of air, eyes bulging out and tears streaming down his face.

Roy, having heard the second voice runs back to the Saxon and draws his rucksack out, tugging the straps on and making sure he can reach over-head to grasp the shafts of the arrows. Once armed he again steps away into the shadows, nocking an arrow to take aim at the gate.

‘If you kill Toby we’ll do everyone in…er…in here…we’ll do everyone in in here,’ the voice shouts, somewhat puzzled by his own choice of words.

‘How many men have you got?’ Clarence whispers, releasing the pressure from Toby’s neck. He sucks air in, gulping it down as he regains some composure. Clarence feels the wet patch spreading underneath his knee and shifts position, avoiding the spread of urine from Toby pissing himself.

‘Please,’ Toby croaks and the pressure is immediately re-applied.

‘I asked you a question, answer me…how many men you got in there?’

Once again, Toby feels the pressure being released from his throat and sucks air in, ‘seven,’ he gasps.

‘Seven?’ Toby nods, his wide eyes fixed on the bald man looming over him.

‘Are they all armed?’ Toby nods again, his head hardly stopping from the constant bobbing, ‘what with? What guns do they have?’

‘Shotguns, rifles…er…one’s got a pistol.’

‘How did you get in?’ Maddox asks, dropping down to speak in a low voice.

‘Toby? What the fuck is going on!?’ The voice shouts. A muted conversation starts up behind the gate, arguments and hasty whispers being thrown about.

‘We just walked up,’ Toby replies, ‘some Polish bird tried to urgh,’ Toby winces as his nose is broken from Maddox’s powerful punch, hot blood spurting out down his front.

‘That Polish bird is my missus,’ Maddox hisses, ‘if she’s been hurt I swear I’ll slit your fucking throat,’ he presses a blade against Toby’s face, digging the point in for added emphasis.

‘Maddox, back off mate,’ Clarence mutters quietly. Maddox is strong but he doesn’t have the knowledge for this. By telling Toby he’ll be killed if he says anything happened to Lenski, he’s just inviting the man to lie, which isn’t the point of this.

‘She’s fine,’ Toby wails, holding his hands to his face.

‘We haven’t got time for this,’ Clarence seethes. Glancing over his shoulder at the gates he can sense the danger Howie and the others have been left in. The urge to find his team, and bring them back to safety, presses in. This…this is an inconvenience that needs resolving quickly.

‘Roy, with me,’ Clarence stands up, one hand clutching Toby by the hair, dragging him with ease to the gate. Roy runs forward, joined by Paula drawing her pistol. Maddox and Darius both move ahead to join the ex-soldier dragging the man across the ground. Darius pauses to scoop the shotgun up; breaking it open to check it’s loaded.

‘Open the gate,’ Clarence shouts out, his voice loud and flat.

‘Toby?’

‘Toby’s with me, now open the fucking GATE,’ Clarence roars, his voice building to a bellow.

‘Get fucked,’ the voice shouts, braver now he’s been joined by more men whispering with him.

‘Open this gate or I swear to god….’ Clarence warns.

‘What? What you gonna do? Make a battering ram? Yeah good luck with that.’

‘Don’t tell him that you twat!’ Another voice shouts.

‘Why?’

‘Giving him ideas that’s why, what if he drives into the gates?’

‘Fuck’s sake, he probably heard you say that,’ yet another voice joins the internal arguing.

The voices are cut off by the impact of Toby being launched bodily at the smaller walk through gate, Clarence remembering it is held shut by just a couple of bolts. With every ounce of strength in his enormous muscles, he grasped Toby and flung him hard at the gate. Watching with satisfaction as it caves in, screams of panic and alarm sound from inside as they see the mangled remains of Toby flying past them.

Clarence bursts through, using their surprise to his advantage. Shots ring out but Clarence dives deep, flinging himself to the ground as the idiots shoot each other from either side of the gate, adding more screams to the air.

Roy takes position just on the outside of the gate, using the enhanced vision of the goggles to take perfect shots at those huddled inside. He takes two down with arrow shots, wrenching them off their feet.

Clarence is up and charging into the other side, using his big frame to slam multiple bodies against the hard inside of the vehicle gate.

Paula runs in, pistol up and raise. She spots a man running for the inner gate, firing several times into his back.

The shotgun blasts out as Darius opens up with both barrels at figures running in panic. Maddox runs past Paula, heading straight for the inner gate, going into a quick dive as shots fired from inside splinter the wooden frame.

Shots keep striking the door and ground just inside, then someone slams it shut and the sound of thick bolts ramming home is distinct.

Twisting round, the leader of the former compound spots Clarence snapping a neck by twisting the head. All those inside are dead, or dying slowly. The weapons kicked away and taken up by the children from the Saxon running in to join the melee.

‘Fucking seven my arse,’ Darius spits, ‘there’s five out here…plus that Toby motherfucker.’

Clarence seethes with the failure of the hurried assault, taking down so many in such a quick incident was staggeringly good but it still failed. More armed men were now inside the locked gate and taking up position.

These fools out here were stupid enough to stand either side and then shoot each other, but those inside are clearly set back and aiming at the gate. The first one through will be cut to bits. For a second he considers using the downed bodies to throw through, but he heard several distinct shots taking place, that means several different guns.

‘You,’ Maddox points at several of the children crouching nearby, ‘get down there and get some fuel out them vehicles…we need diesel and get it into that army truck.’

‘What you doing?’ Clarence asks quietly.

‘You gotta get back, those are my crews out there too,’ Maddox says quickly, ‘we’ll sort this, you get the fuck out of here.’

‘What?’ Clarence stares back open mouthed, ‘seriously?’

‘Yeah seriously,’ Maddox nods, ‘get going, take Paula and Roy, leave this to us...but don’t just look for your own team….find my crews too.’

Nodding back Clarence goes after the youths to the many parked vehicles rammed into the section between the gates. The children work quickly, identifying those vehicles with diesel and getting the fuel caps opened. Hose is found, along with fuel cans and within seconds diesel is being sucked up out to fill the can.

Clarence wanders between them, feeling the urge for action but not being able to do anything. The experienced children work quickly and make him redundant. So he paces back and forth, waiting without patience for the first fuel can to be filled. When it is, he snatches it off the children and gets it to the Saxon.

‘What you going to do?’ Paula asks Maddox, watching Clarence run past.

‘We’ll figure it out,’ Maddox replies gruffly. Paula twists round, staring at the Saxon and Roy, then back to the inner gate.

‘Maybe I should stay with you,’ she suggests, ‘Clarence and Roy can get the others and…’

‘Up to you lady,’ Maddox cuts her off, his face a picture of concentration as he stares at the high gates with such intensity as though his will alone will see it fall.

‘That cunt lied,’ Darius spits again, unable to get over what Toby said, his mind whirring with worry for Sierra trapped inside with Lenski.

‘I’m staying,’ Paula says to Clarence running past to grab another fuel can. He doesn’t answer but just keeps going, his sole focus on getting the fuel.

‘Oi,’ Maddox shouts, ‘you hear me?’

‘Okay,’ Clarence gasps at Paula, running past with another fuel can, ‘me and Roy will do it, you stay here…’

‘That’s what I just said,’ Paula mutters at the man running back to the Saxon.

‘I said, do you hear me?’ Maddox shouts, cocking his head to listen for any replies. When no reply comes back he stares over at Darius, a very rare look of worry on his face that serves to convince Paula of the need for her to stay here.

‘We’re done,’ Roy jogs over, ‘he said you’re staying here.’

‘Yeah,’ she replies.

‘Want me to stay with you?’ He asks quietly, finally pushing the goggles up from his eyes, ‘I er…I don’t mind staying with you,’ he adds.

‘Roy,’ Clarence runs in, ‘you ready?’

‘Go,’ Paula urges, ‘you need to get those children back here.’

‘I know.’ Roy nods but he still hesitates, ‘but er…well you know…we’re like a team and er…’

‘Are we?’ Paula asks with genuine surprise, then realises the tone of her reply, ‘that’s really sweet,’ she grins, ‘thanks Roy.’

‘What? Oh no don’t mention it…just you know…’

‘Roy, I’m going…stay here if you want,’ Clarence strides off.

‘Actually, I rather think I should stay,’ Roy calls after him.

‘No Roy, you go,’ Paula cuts in, ‘Clarence will need you.’

‘What about here? You’ve only got a couple of shotguns which are no good over range, I can use my bow in the dark…’

Clarence stops mid-stride. Turning round he stares up at the fort. These people don’t know who Big Chris is, they don’t know about Sergeant Hopewell or Ted, they don’t know about Sarah. They know nothing of the sacrifices made to keep this place. The fort has to survive; it has to be the safe place that survivors can go to. Howie is adamant about that, about how important it is, that it has to be a free area without fear or dictating rule.

The people stuck in the town are important to Clarence and the others, but the numbers of survivors who will need somewhere safe outweigh that importance.

‘Roy’s right,’ Clarence adds, his deep voice penetrating the hushed conversation taking place. Striding back to the group he keeps his voice low, ‘he can use that bow better in the dark than anyone of us with a rifle, stay here and do what you can…’

‘You going alone?’ Paula asks.

‘Yep, I’ll be fine.’

‘What about taking another vehicle?’ She asks.

‘These are no good,’ he replies, pointing down the alley at the parked vehicles, ‘the keys are in there,’ he nods to the fort.

‘Don’t need keys bruv,’ Darius comments.

‘There’s enough vehicles left out there to use,’ Clarence says, ‘stay here and get this sorted…I’ll get everyone else and meet you back here.’

‘Are there any tunnels or other ways in?’ Paula whispers before he walks off.

Shaking his head Clarence looks up at the high walls, ‘just the door at the rear, that’s the only one I know about, might be another way in somewhere but…’ he shrugs, deciding enough time has been wasted, ‘see you in a few hours at most, I’ll signal with the headlights when I come through the estate, three flashes…if everything goes wrong then we’ll meet at the little village across the bay.’

‘Got it,’ Maddox nods, exchanging a quick handshake before Clarence double times it back to the vehicle. Once behind the wheel he takes a brief second to stare at the fort. Shaking his head at the turn of events, he eases the big armoured personnel carrier forward to turn in a wide arc.

The others, standing silently in the alley between the high walls, watch the retreating vehicle. All of them feel a sense of despondency at the Saxon leaving. All of them apart from Roy, who mid-way through scratching his right upper arm detects a small lump and goes into meltdown. For the first time since the fighting started and all through the events of the evening, his heart finally notches up above normal, his breathing increases and a sense of panic starts to grip his insides.

Tugging the night vision goggles down, he twists his own arm trying to see the back of it and the giant tumour growing out of his arm. This is it. This is the big one. The start of the serious illness. He feels round the lump, craning his head while whimpering softly. An angry red lump, shit that has come up quick. It must be growing fast, spreading through his entire body. This lump will be the tip of the iceberg.

‘Roy!’ His attention snaps up, yelping in pain from the retina burn of the torchlight glaring into the lenses of his goggles. ‘It’s an insect bite…we’ve all got them,’ Paula says quietly.

‘A bite?’ He gasps, the feeling of relief starting to flush in.

‘Yes Roy,’ she says softly, ‘just a bite, Maddox has got them too…and Darius…haven’t you?’ She turns round, glaring wide eyed at the two lads.

‘Have we?’ Darius stares at her then at Maddox.

‘Er…yeah…my arm…it’s like…well itchy,’ Maddox picks up on the contorted facial expression of Paula, quickly rubbing an imaginary bite on his arm.

‘Me too,’ Darius rubs his leg, ‘got me on the thigh…itchy as fuck…you lot been bitten too?’ He asks the youths. Slowly, they understand the glares being sent their way from the combined forces of Paula, Maddox and Darius. All of them start scratching at various parts of their bodies, making noises of pain and relief.

‘See,’ Paula smiles back at Roy, ‘just a bite.’

‘Fucking good job,’ Roy beams, ‘Got me scared that one did…’ Paula stares at him for a second, full of admiration for the way he is and the skills he brings with the bow. Even in the car park, when it was time to go hand to hand, he didn’t hesitate but wielded that sword like a demon. He was so fit and athletic, driving round to thrust and slice. His courage and skill were undeniable but that propensity to swear just doesn’t suit him.

Vowing to ask him where that comes from, she steps back to join the others staring up at the locked gates with the perfectly silent fort behind, all of them now scratching various parts of their bodies.

Twelve

‘Dad, we need to stop, the boys are getting tired…or we should find a car,’ Lilly calls ahead to her father and Norman walking side by side down the country lane.

‘Norman, what do you think?’ Andrew asks, ‘stop here shall we or press on a bit further?’

‘Oh, I don’t know Andrew,’ Norman replies, ‘I rather think we shouldn’t stop in the middle of a road, what do you think if we keep going and find somewhere?’

‘I think I would agree,’ Andrew nods blithely, ‘the committee has designated that we should press on for a short while,’ Andrew grins back at the girls, clearly proud of his humorous statement.

‘Yes,’ Norman agrees in the same annoyingly patronising tone, ‘the committee says to push on for a little while, you boys are okay aren’t you?’

‘I’m tired Daddy,’ Todd replies.

‘Hungry, my tummy is making noises,’ Billy adds.

‘Well yes, we’re all hungry Billy,’ Andrew comments, ‘just a bit further eh, there’s a good boy. So Norman, you were saying?’

‘Oh yes, well up to the recession I would say our output was matching that of the big players in the business, and to be truthful we didn’t notice any downplay in customer orders for quite some time…’

‘The committee?’ Lilly whispers to Samantha.

‘God knows,’ the other girl rolls her eyes, ‘listen to them, you’d think they were playing golf or something.’

‘Lilly,’ Billy pipes up, ‘where are we going?’

‘I’ve told you already,’ Lilly snaps, tired from the heat and the worry of walking in the middle of nowhere with two men completely engrossed in discussing business models. Taking a breath she softens her tone, ‘we’re going to a big fort where other people are living.’

‘Will we have a house?’ Todd asks.

‘With a puppy?’ Billy grins excitedly.

‘A puppy? Where on earth did you get that idea from? No, we’re not having a puppy.’

‘I want a puppy,’ Billy says sulkily.

‘Can I share your puppy?’ Todd asks.

‘Yes,’ Billy nods seriously.

‘There’s a house up there,’ Samantha points ahead to the flashes of roof appearing between the trees.

‘Dad, there’s a house up ahead, we can stop there,’ Lilly calls out.

‘Where? Oh yes…I see it…well I shall put it before the committee and get back to you,’ he grins again before turning back to discuss it with Norman.

‘You okay?’ Lilly asks, watching as Sam rubs her stomach and winces.

‘Period,’ Sam whispers, ‘really hurts.’

‘Cramps?’

‘Yeah,’ Sam replies, ‘it’s okay,’ she shrugs it off, trying her best to ignore the pains, ‘er, have you got any er…you know,’ Sam asks, aware that young ears are listening.

‘In my bag, do you need some?’

‘I will when we stop, I couldn’t ask Dad to get me any.’

‘Mum had loads at home,’ Lilly explains, her face dropping at the memory of her mother not seen since the event started.

‘The committee has agreed to stop at yonder house,’ Norman beams.

‘Gee thanks,’ Sam rolls her eyes again, shaking her head in embarrassment of her father.

Getting closer they start to see more of the house, a large detached stone built cottage set back from the road with large front gardens. Picturesque and quaint, with dried up flower beds and a large willow tree shading an old, wrought iron bench embedded into the grass.

‘Very nice, must cost a pretty penny,’ Norman admires as they walk closer.

‘Think of the heating bills in the winter though,’ Andrew comments, ‘those old style windows…no double glazing.’

‘Must be listed,’ Norman nods, ‘these old buildings are a bugger to alter if they’re listed.’

Lilly stares hard as the two men stroll through the gate and start heading up the path, both of them still chatting away amiably and not paying the least bit of attention. The two girls stare at the windows and front door, scanning the area while listening intently.

‘Dad,’ Lilly whispers, ‘we shouldn’t just walk up!’

‘What? Out here Lilly? Come on…this house looks fine.’

‘Sam, get my knife from my bag,’ Lilly says in a low voice, pausing while the girl opens the top flap to pull out the bladed weapon.

Checking her father and Norman haven’t seen, she tucks the knife into the waist band at the back of her jeans, adjusting it to make sure the blade doesn't dig into her backside.

‘Stay here with the boys Sam.’

Sam grabs the hands of the two boys, preventing them from walking any further as Norman reaches the front door and uses the big brass knocker to announce their arrival. Lilly spins round, checking the road behind them before walking to the corner to view up the side of the house, constantly scanning the windows for movement. Still, the fathers just stand there chatting not even stepping back from the door. Lilly grimaces, her heart beating harder at the blasé way they are treating this. Like a walk in the woods or a country stroll.

‘No answer,’ Norman states loud enough for them all to hear.

‘It’s locked,’ Andrew reports on trying the handle, ‘shall we go round the back?’

‘I’ll do it,’ Lilly strides off, not giving her father a chance to disagree.

‘Head strong like her mother,’ Andrew tuts.

‘They grow up quickly these days Andrew,’ Norman adds sagely.

‘They do Norman,’ Andrew agrees, trying to make himself sound as sagely as Norman.

Keeping to the far side of the garden to gain a better view of the house, Lilly walks towards the rear, her eyes roving from window to window. At the corner she stops and takes in the view of the rear gardens. Large and mostly laid to lawn, with ornamental pots bordering a long gravel path weaving between more flower beds.

Silence. She edges forward, one hand gripping the handle of the knife in her waistband. At the window she slowly eases round to peer inside, seeing an old farmhouse style kitchen with a large pine table. About to press on and she spots one of the pine chairs lying on its side. That’s not right, she peers on closer, spotting the cupboard doors have been left open.

Something wrong here, her instincts scream out to move away, this place is unsafe. Supressing the reaction and knowing they need food, she edges on past the window to the back doors set back from view.

Metres away and a solitary shoe stands alone on the path. Dark coloured, she didn’t see it because it blended in with the ornamental pots, except for the small blood stain next to it.

The knife is out, held in front as she breathes harder and leans round to see the open back door. The corpse of an old woman lies across it. Dried blood is smeared down the flagstone floor hallway where she tried to crawl away, before slumping on the threshold never to move again. Lilly takes it all in quickly, the inner hallway with the knocked over furniture, the opened cupboard doors and the dead body.

They need food desperately but this place has been done over, she can see the cut throat from here. The ragged flesh of the knife wound deep in the throat that caused the blood to come out so quickly. Murder. This wasn’t defence or zombies but plain murder. Gasping with shock she spots the old woman’s knickers are round her ankles and the old flannel skirt pushed up high.

The sight sickens her and she turns away as her stomach flips over. Jogging quickly round the side to the others she waves them away, urging them to get back on the road.

‘We need to go,’ she whispers urgently. Both the men stare back in shock at the knife in her hand, the two of them too stupid to respond. ‘We have to go,’ she presses in a forceful voice.

‘Why?’ Andrew asks dumbly.

‘Come on,’ Lilly strides away to join Sam and the two boys already retreating out onto the lane. The four of them start walking off and Lilly notices the knife held in Sam’s hand down at her side.

‘Lilly!’ Andrew calls out, ‘what’s going on?’

‘There’s a dead woman at the back, she’s been murdered and…er…’

‘Oh gosh,’ Norman blanches, ‘really? Oh dear…yes well, maybe we should press on then.’

‘And what?’ Sam asks, picking up on Lilly’s voice trailing off.

‘Raped,’ Lilly mouths the word silently. Sam nods with a firm glance and picks her pace up, gripping Todd’s hand to urge him on.

‘How sad,’ Andrew says after a few seconds, ‘out here too in the countryside, I expect those things got to her, poor old dear probably didn’t know what they were.’

‘She was murdered Dad, not bitten,’ Lilly replies.

‘Oh I doubt that,’ Norman adds, ‘murdered out here? For what?’

‘Food, clothes, medicine…’ Lilly explains, shocked at the reaction of the two adults.

‘Suicide?’ Andrew asks Norman.

‘Most likely,’ Norman replies in his sagely voice.

They didn’t see her, Lilly thinks. Neither of them actually saw her with her throat cut but they’re convincing themselves that it was some accident or self-inflicting injury. Sam glances across at her, managing to convey the same thought process in a single look. Lilly nods, an affirmation between them that their fathers are incompetent idiots.

The boys, although picking up on the nervous fear of their older sisters, soon forget the drama and return to complaining about being hungry, something that plucks heavily at the heartstrings of Lilly.

Ahead lays a wide junction. One side branches off to a leafy side, lined with large, detached old style houses set back and the other side opens to pasture and thickets of trees.

There is no choice, they have to find food or risk the boys becoming sick from starvation or malnutrition. It’s one thing to be inside a house where the rate of energy consumption is low, but now they’re walking and in this heat they’ll be using up valuable energy very quickly. The water is almost gone too, all of them using it as a way of warding off the hunger pangs.

But still the two adult men, who should be leading and guiding the others, are slipping further into their deep conversation. They share life stories and trade anecdotes. Ill-equipped and never designed to withstand this kind of hardship, they find solace in the company of a like-minded person.

‘We’re going to have to try those houses,’ Lilly stops at the junction, completely aware that her father and Norman have strolled right across it without a second glance.

‘What?’ Oh yes, up there,’ Andrew turns and nods, ‘what do you think Norman? Worth a go?’

Shaking her head in disbelief, Lilly stares daggers at the two men, willing them to firm up and be decisive. Can’t they see they have two young children here that are starving and are getting quieter with every passing hour.

‘Well,’ Norman rocks back on his heels, ‘I think it’s probably worth a go, see if we can’t find us a tasty morsel or two to snack on.’

‘They look intact,’ Andrew comments, walking towards the first house. So did the last one, Lilly muses, seeing that neither of them have learnt anything from the previous address. What was her father doing those nights he went out? He kept coming back saying how bad it was, the bodies and the destruction but meeting Norman has seemed to dull his wits.

She lets them lead the way this time. Both her and Sam stare with alert eyes at the windows and door, rotating round to view the road and surrounding area, heads cocked as they listen.

‘Locked,’ Andrew reports on trying the door again.

‘Blast,’ Norman replies, ‘shall we try the back?’

‘Yes, lets,’ Andrew moves away to join Norman as they tread noisily along the gravel path to the rear. Lilly winces, willing them to take a step to the left or right and walk on the grass. They let her take the back on her own last time, but now they have to go together.

‘Stay here,’ she whispers to Sam, moving off silently across the grass with one hand tucked behind and holding the handle of the knife. She watches the two adults stroll into the back garden, both of them commenting on the layout and design before they even glance at the back of the house. Lilly clocks the windows are fastened closed but the back door is wide open, same as the last time and the hairs on the back of her neck prickle with the sensation that something isn’t right here too.

But the food is desperately needed, even a packet of crisps to give the boys some energy. It has to be risked, so she watches the men walk up to the back door and politely call out, hanging around and waiting as if some kind old granny wearing an apron and carrying a freshly baked apple pie is about to appear and invite them in to drink home-made lemonade.

Eventually they go inside, which prompts Lilly to move closer. They’re not even aware that she’s with them. They didn’t look about or check behind them, nor did they take any notice of the large shed in the garden with the door hanging open. Holding position, she watches both the back of the house and the shed, staying quiet to listen for any unusual sounds but the only noises are her father and Norman plodding around inside as they chat happily away.

Gritting her teeth, Lilly heads over to the shed and checks inside. Nothing there, just tools and gardening stuff. Satisfied, she walks over and through the back door, heading straight into the kitchen where she instantly spots the open cupboard doors. Again, the cupboards have been looted, but at least there’s no body slumped on the floor this time.

‘Oh you came in too,’ Norman comments, leading Andrew into the kitchen.

‘There’s no food here,’ Lilly ignores the remark, biting down the reply that they should have bloody heard her coming in.

‘Oh dear,’ Andrew tuts, checking through the cupboards that Lilly just went through. She looks over to see Norman smiling at her. A fatherly gesture but there’s something odd in his eyes, and she notices his gaze drops down to her chest before he coughs and starts checking the same cupboards that Andrew is going through.

‘They’re empty, I checked,’ Lilly states, staring at the back of Norman’s head and feeling very uncomfortable.

‘Certainly appears that way,’ Andrew steps back, ‘on to the next one then.’

‘Er, we could still get some water though,’ Lilly suggests.

‘Oh water, of course yes…hang on, I’ll call the others in,’ Andrew goes straight to the front door, unlocking it and calling out loudly to Sam and the two boys. Lilly winces at his booming voice, tutting to herself.

‘Right, I suggest Andrew, that we go to the next house while these get some water, good idea?’

‘Agreed!’ Andrew beams. The two men start of, walking out the front door leaving a stunned Lilly in the kitchen while Samantha fills glasses with water for the boys.

‘Where are we meeting?’ She rushes to the door, calling out in a low voice, ‘we staying here or coming after you?’

‘Good point,’ Norman points a finger in the air, ‘well said that girl, yes er…stay here?’ He asks Andrew.

‘Yes yes, stay here and get some water, we’ll be right back.’

‘Clever girl your Lilly,’ Norman comments audibly.

‘Like her mother,’ Andrew replies, ‘old head on young shoulders.’

‘Hmmm,’ Norman glances back at Lilly standing in the doorway, a furtive glance that takes in her developed figure. ‘Quite so.’

Lilly moves away quickly, hating every second of this ridiculous plan. Storming back into the kitchen she can barely conceal her anger, something which Sam picks up on straight away.

‘They didn’t even tell us what to do, I mean if we should stay here or go with them,’ Lilly replies after Sam asks her what’s wrong.

‘They’re in a world of their own, that’s for sure,’ Sam comments.

‘My dad had a nervous breakdown, he’s been a bag of nerves since this started but he changed completely meeting your dad last night, look at them now…’

‘Mines the same,’ Sam cuts her off, ‘he would only go out when we were desperate, just kept us inside hiding behind the curtains and not making any noise. The nights were the hardest….Todd was having nightmares and I had to stay with him to make sure he didn’t cry out.’

‘Jesus,’ Lilly stares at the girl. Taking the offered glass she drinks it down quickly before taking the empties from the two boys and re-filling them, ‘come on you two, drink it down.’

‘Is there any juice?’ Billy asks, ‘I don’t like water.’

‘I know Billy, but no juice here, maybe we’ll find some later.’

‘And some sweets?’ Todd asks.

‘Maybe,’ Sam smiles sadly, ‘there’s some cars up that road, I saw them as we came up…do you think they’ll let us take one?’

‘Probably not,’ Lilly sighs, ‘we should, we should be getting out of here…that last house was all emptied and that lady was…’ she glances down at the boys.

‘Yeah I know,’ Sam nods.

‘Well, someone has been in and taken everything here too…and if they’re going to do that to an old lady then what about us? We shouldn’t be here.’

Sam leans back against the worktop, clutching her glass with two hands and a very worried expression, ‘if it was just me and you we would take a car, can you drive?’

‘No, can’t be that hard though…if them two can do it then how difficult can it be?’ She laughs, a soft sound that makes the boys stare up smiling.

‘True,’ Sam snorts, ‘well, we might have to give it like the full on nagging mode, you know…like proper whining…’

‘Ha, like when your phone needs topping up,’ Lilly laughs.

‘Yeah, or there’s a sale on at TK Maxx.’

‘Oh, seriously full on whining, got it,’ Lilly nods.

The four of them wait, drinking water until bladders are full and taking it in turns to use the toilet. The delay is worrying, causing concern to both girls who do their best to keep the boys spirits up, playing eye spy and guessing games until a dull silence descends.

Not being able to stand it any longer they head outside. Two fifteen year old girls, leading two small boys, hands firmly gripping knife handles. In the sunshine they move down the path and into the road, staring up and down for a few seconds.

‘Come on,’ Lilly nods, leading the way up the road and past the houses. Scanning windows, doors and straining for any noise coming from anywhere. The heat is incredible; searing down with scorching sunshine that threatens to burn any exposed fair skin. The boys go quiet, simply beaten into submission by the oppressive heat.

‘There,’ Sam points ahead at the two figures coming out from a driveway into the lane. Lilly breathes a sigh of relief and notices instantly they’re carrying bags in their hands.

‘Hey hey!’ Andrew calls out in a voice that carries easily down the lane, ‘we got some goodies.’

‘Oh my god,’ Sam seethes quietly, ‘tell him to shut up!’ The girls spin round, knowing his voice would have been heard from every direction.

‘Did you hear?’ Norman shouts down, ‘we got food!’

‘Ssshhh,’ Lilly pushes a finger to her lips while waving the other hand at them.

‘Oh Lilly, you are a worrier aren’t you,’ Andrew remarks. Her mouth drops open at being called a worrier. This, coming from the man going through a nervous breakdown and medicated to the eyeballs.

‘You’re so loud, anyone could hear you,’ Sam cuts in, staring at her own father.

‘There’s no one here,’ Norman looks at Andrew with an expression that begs forgiveness for his stupid daughter.

‘Where did you get the food?’ Lilly asks.

‘Er…a few houses up,’ Andrew replies, ‘we got beans and spaghetti, tinned vegetables, corned beef er….some spam….tuna and look,’ he pulls a bottle out of the bag, ‘some salad cream too, not even opened…’

All thoughts of noise and safety are gone at the sight of the food, both the men holding the bags up to show the delicious goods inside. Lilly feels the pangs of hunger stabbing at her stomach and an image of ripping the bag from her father to start devouring the food now flits through her mind.

‘Come on then,’ Andrew grins, ‘who’s up for some lunch? Billy? You hungry?’

‘Yeah,’ Billy grins excitedly, running alongside his father as they head back towards the first house. In the kitchen they empty the contents of the bags onto the dining room table as Lilly and Sam ferry plates, cutlery and a tin opener from the kitchen.

‘Look at this,’ Norman smiles with triumph, pulling a tin of custard out to show off proudly, ‘eh, doesn't that look nice,’ he says at the two boys, glancing again at Lilly. She keeps her eyes downcast and places the plates down before moving to the other side of the table next to her father.

Tins are opened and the contents spooned out. Tuna is mixed with salad cream and placed with tinned vegetables and cold baked beans. Weird mixtures and contrasting flavours, but the food is delicious. The hungry mouths devour every morsel placed in front of them. Speaking ceases as the focus becomes solely on the food.

Stomachs that are starved of food shrink fast and take far less to be filled than they were once used to. Within minutes the group are struggling to finish what they’ve opened. Even the grown adults struggle, with Andrew and Norman feeling that their eyes were bigger than their bellies.

‘That was lovely,’ Andrew sighs rubbing his stomach while looking round the table, ‘all that walking has made me a bit sleepy you know,’ he adds yawning with a big stretch.

‘Our two little soldiers look a tad snoozey too,’ Norman comments, ‘perhaps a short break for them to rest is in order.’

‘We should keep going,’ Lilly cuts in quickly, ‘if we take a car the boys can sleep in the back.’

‘And how do you propose we fit six people into one car?’ Andrew asks with eyebrows lifted.

‘Er…two cars,’ Lilly shrugs, ‘there’s enough of them left here.’

‘Oh right yes, of course….makes sense I suppose,’ Andrew sniffs while Norman gives Lilly a sly smile that makes her skin crawl.

‘I think we’re better off on foot,’ Norman drops the smile and leans forward. Deepening his voice to sound serious, he looks round the table in a weak attempt to add gravitas to his manner, but again his gaze lingers on Lilly. ‘Several reasons for this thought process,’ he continues in the same forced tone, ‘one, we are quieter and less intrusive on foot so we can stay undetected, a car engine makes noise. Two, er…’ he stops, thinking frantically for another reason. Now he’s said there are several reasons he can’t just offer one, ‘er…it would mean dividing our party which I am uncomfortable with, what if we take a wrong turn or get separated?’

‘How would that…’ Sam starts to ask.

‘Three,’ Norman exclaims, excited at thinking of another reason to offer, ‘we’ve all been cooped up for days on end so er…the fresh air and er…sunshine will be good for us…yes…er, we need the exercise too.’ He looks to Andrew for help, imploring him with his eyes.

‘Right,’ Andrew replies slowly, unsure of the way this was going, ‘yes er…um…’ He holds Norman in high esteem and already the two of them are getting on so well. Andrew, being a nervous and fearful man was only too happy to find a like-minded individual to team up with. To disagree with him now might invoke a negative reaction, which he is desperate to avoid. Taking a car was the original plan and it does make sense not to walk the whole journey but Norman has obviously thought this through.

‘Well, yes…there are some serious merits to your proposal and yes, I guess we could all do with the exercise and fresh air so er, well I don’t have any problem with continuing on foot for a while, maybe if the boys get too tired we can find a car later?’

‘Agreed,’ Norman beams, ‘the committee has passed the motion and we’ll stay on foot for now.’

Lilly stares at her father. She saw the concern flash across his face, then just as quickly disappear as he blithely agrees with Norman. She drops her gaze, berating herself for thinking of her father as a weak and pathetic man. He’s just doing his best. He was a business man, not a soldier or survivalist expert, and besides, he’s had all those problems with the breakdown. She suppresses the urge to speak out and disagree, simply for not wishing to oppose her father.

A thought reaches her, the common sense genes passed down from her mother’s side work quickly to spur her mind into over-drive. That woman was murdered, no doubt about it. Her throat was cut and she’d been raped too, what other reason would there be for her knickers being round her ankles?

‘Dad,’ Lilly speaks up, making sure her tone is light, ‘those other houses, the ones you checked before you found the food, we’re they all empty?’

‘Of course they were,’ Andrew replies, ‘we haven’t seen anyone.’

‘No I mean the food? In the kitchens? We’re they all gone and how did you get in?’

‘Eh? Oh er…the back doors were open and yes, some of them had been emptied but we found one that wasn’t so…’ he shrugs. She can see he is thinking the same thing but just doesn't want to admit it.

‘Didn’t you say someone was going through the houses in our town? Like, taking all the food and things?’

‘Well yes,’ Andrew concedes, ‘but we’re in the countryside now, not in the town.’

‘Saw those too,’ Norman cuts in, ‘just other survivors like us, getting food and getting out.’

Nodding back Lilly absorbs into her own thoughts. That house with the body of the old woman had been entered from the back and all her food taken. These houses have been entered from the back too and all the food taken, apart from that one where they got this food.

An image fills her mind, of men going from house to house to strip it clean. Filling a vehicle, leaving when it’s full and returning to continue. They’ll come back then. Not all of these houses have been cleared yet.

‘We really should go,’ Lilly says quickly, looking up to stare directly at her father.

‘We just agreed to let the boys get some rest,’ Norman replies.

‘No, now…and we should take a car and go quickly…someone is clearing all these houses of food, so they’ll be back to carry on with the ones they haven’t done yet.’

Her father agrees, she can see it in his eyes. The risk of being confronted by other men terrifies him. A man of average build and physically out of shape, she doubts he’s ever had a fight in his life. ‘Dad, they’ll come back,’ she repeats, ‘we don’t want to be here…we have to go.’

‘Maybe Lilly is right,’ Andrew turns to Norman, ‘of course your idea of being on foot was good but er…’

Thinking quickly Norman stares round, his mind whirring to come up with reasons to keep them on foot. The last thing he wants is to get to this fort straight away, not today and certainly not tonight. His gaze flicks to Lilly again, unable to help himself from glancing at her chest straining against that flimsy vest top.

‘She’s right,’ he adds seriously, ‘well done Lilly,’ he nods at her, trying to convey a serious adult to adult acknowledgment, ‘we should go right away, er…but I’m thinking we shouldn’t take a car from here, if these people come back they’ll know we’ve taken one and be looking out for us. Yes, good idea,’ he says out loud, rushing on to cover the slip up, ‘let’s get this cleared up and hidden and get away quickly, we’ll go into the countryside and keep going until we’ve got a good distance between us…bloody hell,’ he stands up, nodding again at Lilly, ‘good thinking Lilly,’ he starts grabbing plates and tins, piling them up to carry out to the kitchen.

Andrew jumps up, the thought of a returning group propelling him to work as fast as possible, ‘Lilly, grab a bin bag and we’ll get this lot cleared up.’

‘Who cares about a bin bag?’ Sam asks, ‘just shove it somewhere, they’ve already been in here so they won’t come back.’

‘Good point, well done Sam, you girls are clever cookies aren’t you, eh Norman? Glad we’ve got two clear thinkers with us.’

‘Definitely,’ Norman strides back in still holding the items in his hands, realising he was just about to do what he has always done and start washing up.

With everything shoved into cupboards out of sight they get ready and start heading out the back door, snaking round the house to walk quickly down the lane onto the country road.

‘We need to get off this road,’ Norman says quietly, playing up to feed the fear and nerves rippling through the small group. ‘We’re not safe,’ he adds keeping his gaze serious and far away, trying to effect the look of someone brave and serious.

‘Good idea,’ Andrew agrees quickly, ‘there’s a footpath up there, we should take that and go across the fields, stay out of sight.

Norman leads the way to the narrow opening in the hedgerow, standing back as though to usher the others through and to bravely bring up the rear. Off the road they go, onto the narrow footpath that snakes along the edge of the fields running adjacent to the road, but hidden from view by the thick brambles and trees.

Staring ahead, Norman finds his eyes flicking between his daughters backside and that of Lilly. Noticing the difference between Sam’s slim boyish figure and Lilly’s natural hour glass curves. He’d certainly never viewed his own daughter in anything other than fatherly love, and never any of her friends either but Lilly was different. For a start she didn’t look anywhere near fifteen, more like eighteen or nineteen and she acted older too. She didn’t use all the slang teen speech that Sam used, she spoke properly and had a serious look in her eye.

Society had gone and the need to re-produce was important now. In olden times it was natural for older men to go with younger girls, the law to protect vulnerable girls was only ever brought in as their culture evolved. Anyway, in some parts of Europe the age of consent was still something like fourteen I think, because girls are physically able to have sex at that age. Loads of girls get pregnant at that age, I see all those council estate girls who have two or three kids by the time they’re sixteen.

Lilly keeps glancing at me anyway. Her own father is a bit wet and weak so it’s only natural she would feel an attraction to him, maybe the start of a crush. Norman keeps going, each tread of his feet signify a further effort to justify his desires.

Walking behind her father and holding Billy’s hand, she can feel his eyes boring into her. It feels almost like a hot tingling from the stare he is directing at her but those thoughts are pushed away. Her dad is here, Billy and Todd plus Samantha and the danger is coming from everything else, not this mild mannered man that is so similar to her own father, trying to be serious and manly but just looking stupid in the process.

And it was a good idea of not taking a car from there. Those people – whoever they might be, would spot a missing car and might come looking. Something about that doesn't feel right. There must be loads of survivors all heading to different places which would mean lots of cars being taken. One doesn't make a difference. It could be another group of men, armed with guns or knives that took the car. Just because a car was taken, doesn’t mean that the group were vulnerable, nor would they know which direction they took.

Still, they were heading away from there and that was the main thing. Keep going cross country for a few hours and find somewhere else to get a car and more food too. Thinking it through reminds her Samantha asking for tampax. They shouldn’t just get food but medicines too, like aspirin and anti-biotics and those creams you use for insect bites and rashes. All those sorts of things should be taken.

The people at the fort will have thought of these things surely. If they’ve got a whole commune going with loads of people, then of course they’ll be considering all of these things and have stock-piles of medicines and things. They might even have a vaccine or something, or know what this is all about. Maybe her mother is there now. Lilly knows the odds of that are very low. If she was able to have got away from the care home then she would have come home and not to that fort.

They just need to get there as quickly as possible.

Thirteen

‘I thought this was the next one.’

‘It is, we did the others…I remember, it was the one with the big red Honda outside.’

‘It’s been done though, we must have done it.’

‘We didn’t, I know we didn’t. We did all those and stopped before the house with the big red Honda.’

‘Well it’s been done.’

‘Not by us.’

‘Eh? Who else would do it? This is our patch? Peter and his lot wouldn’t come this way, the doc said we had to stick to our maps. If those cunts have come onto our patch I’ll going fucking spare…’

‘They wouldn’t, maybe it was already like it…yeah…must have already been emptied by whoever lives here.’

‘Yeah, that makes sense, fuckers….why didn’t they take their car then?’

‘How the fuck would I know? Probably had two cars, these rich bastards out here have all got loads of cars.’

‘Cunts.’

‘Wankers.’

‘Do the next one then?’

‘I’ll get the van.’

‘Ere, look at that.’

‘What?’

‘That you blind twat, down there on the ground.’

‘What?’

‘Fuck’s sake, are you fucking blind? That packet of custard creams…see it?’

‘Got it, shit…did we drop that?’

‘No we didn’t come up to this house did we? We stopped at that one…we just fucking discussed this. We didn’t do the one with the big, red, fucking Honda…the custard creams are outside the house with the big, red, fucking Honda.’

‘Alright smart arse, don’t get chippy.’

‘So? Someone’s been here ain’t they, we’d have seen them biscuits.’

‘Would we fuck as like, they could have been there for days.’

‘In the countryside with all the foxes and badgers and shit.’

‘Fucking foxes don’t eat custard creams, how they gonna open the packet?’

‘Have you seen badgers eat? They’re strong as fuck, they’d have that open in seconds. Nah, someone’s been through here.’

‘Bollocks, so what if they have!’

‘You know what the doc said.’

‘Yeah but…’

‘What if he’s testing us?’

‘Really? You think he’d do that?’

‘Pete said he did it with Chris’s lot.’

‘Fuck, so what do we do? Take ‘em back or something?’

‘Yeah we take the custard creams back. He’s testing us with a packet of fucking custard creams…he wants to make sure we’re not eating them.’

‘Alright, don’t get chippy you sarcky fucker.’

‘We’ll have to check them houses, the ones we did already.’

‘Seriously? Fuck…it’s hot as fuck and I just want to get done and go back.’

‘Alright but you explain to the doc that we found a packet of custard creams and didn’t do fuck all about it.’

‘Fine, fucking fine…come on then…we’ll work down from here.’

‘Fucking hello.’

‘What?’

‘Glasses on the side, they still got water in ‘em too, like wet round the top.’

‘Oh yeah, someone been in here then.’

‘Today too, this wasn’t like this before, check the rooms.’

‘You check the fucking rooms.’

‘I did the last one.’

‘No, we both did the last one…’

‘You’re fucking hard work you are, eh…smell that?’

‘What?’

‘Fish…no…tuna, that’s fucking tuna that is.’

‘Smells like dirty pussy.’

‘Ha, good one, fishy pussy…beans on the carpet too and smeared on the table.’

‘Hang on, someone wouldn’t take food from that house and eat it in this house….why not just eat it in that house?’

‘I dunno, fuck do you think I am? Uri fucking Gellar? Or that bloke who guessed the lottery numbers….what’s his name?’

‘Russell Grant.’

‘Fuck off! He does the stars and shit on the telly, no that bloke with the little beard…’

‘Chuck Norris? He had a beard?’

‘Jesus help me, yeah Chuck Norris guessed the lottery numbers…Brown or something, he’s got that first name?’

‘That helps, someone with a first name.’

‘No, like he’s got a first name but spells it different…Darren, no Derren Brown! Yeah him…’

‘What about him?’

‘What?’

‘Derren Brown? What about him?’

‘Er…can’t remember now. ‘Ere, they’ve shoved all the dirty shit in here.’

‘Let’s have a look, messy fucking weirdos. Who puts dirty dishes in a cupboard?’

‘Freaky.’

‘Fucking right.’

‘A few of ‘em too by the looks of it, they’ve opened everything.’

‘Is that Spam? I love Spam…is it all gone?’

‘Yes mate and we’ve got enough Spam to last like for-fucking-ever.’

‘Good, I love Spam.’

‘Fucking bean juice is still wet, that shit dries fucking quick especially in this heat, we must have only just missed ‘em.’

‘Ain't no one on the road though, we’d have seen ‘em.’

‘We gotta go look, the doc said other people are more important…’

‘Not just people but…’

‘Stop it.’

‘What?’

‘It don’t matter what he wants…’

‘I didn’t say anything.’

‘But you were going to, don’t…don’t say fuck all.’

‘Fine….What’s he want them for anyway?’

‘I don’t know and I don’t want to fucking know, just do as we’re told and get on with it, that’s my motto.’

‘He who dares wins, that’s mine.’

‘That’s the SAS, you can’t use their motto.’

‘Why not? It’s a good motto.’

‘Cos it’s their motto, get your own.’

‘Alright! Don’t get chippy, I’ll share yours then.’

‘No. Get your own.’

‘Every little helps then.’

‘That’s Tesco and that’s lame as fuck…you might as well have, hands that do dishes can be as soft as she wishes…’

‘I’ll think of one while we’re looking for these fuckers.’

‘Good, you do that.’

Fourteen

Eyes wide open and I’m sat bolt upright. Where am I? Where is everyone? Where’s Dave? What the fuck just happened? Paco has had a baby with my sister. Shit how the hell am I going to tell Clarence. No, hang on. That was a dream. Shit that was a strong feeling, it was so real. Like I could feel their presence. My mum and dad were there too, I spoke to them like they were really there.

A memory, a real memory of the dream is in my mind now, like it really happened. I know it didn’t happen but it feels like it did so I’ll cling onto it with everything I have. Sadness rushes through me as I realise that if my parents are with Sarah and Paco they must be dead.

Get a grip you idiot, it was just a dream. It wasn’t some message being relayed by the gods for the sole purpose of Howie the supermarket manager. It was a combination of dehydration, exhaustion and some wanker shoving a heart in my mouth.

The thought makes me gag, I can still feel the rubbery fleshy texture of it. Hot and wet and still pumping, oh and the blood that came out of it. Shit that was gross. Leaning over and I retch as my stomach joins my head in agreement at the revolting memory of it. Water comes out which surprises me as I figured my stomach would be empty.

That means I’ve been drinking. My face is clean too. No dried blood or scabby remains of the diseased zombie heart sticking to my stubble.

Shit.

Diseased zombie heart.

That was in my mouth. Fuck, maybe I am one of them now. They brought me here and washed me off. No, it was Dave, I puked down the back of his leg. Or was that part of the dream?

And where the fuck am I? It’s very dark in here, is it still night? The same night or another night?

Confused is an understatement so I clamber to my feet, expecting a wave of dizziness but there isn’t anything. I feel fine. I feel completely normal. Well, a bit sore and tired but nothing other than that. I must be a zombie then. Marcy said it takes away all the bad feelings.

Sighing, I resign myself to the thought and grope round for my pistol. It’s still there, hanging from my belt and in the dark I eject the magazine and feel the resistance of the rounds. Slotting it back in I know what must be done. Shot to the head, bang and it’s all over. Shame but what can you do? I’m not going to start rampaging round the country like Darren or Marcy.

Will the infection let me shoot myself? What if it like freezes my finger or something so I can’t pull the trigger? I could jump out of a window I guess, but then it could stop me from doing that too. Oh, this needs some creative thinking. How do you do yourself in if you can’t do yourself in?

Shit, that hurt my head. Maybe I should check before I shoot myself in the head. Yeah, need a mirror. Groping about I try and feel my way to the door and end up crashing into what I think is a television, then a set of chairs and a table. Completely disorientated and cursing foully, I somehow end up back where I was, falling over the sofa I just woke up on.

I catch some weird noises coming from outside. Sounds like someone having sex with loads of grunting. Do zombies have sex? I’m not having sex with any zombies. Bugger that.

Where the shitting hell is the sodding door. Am I a cave or something? Wall, got a wall so follow this and I should find the door. Corner, more wall….bloody television again. Oh well, that’s broke. What’s this? Something soft and velvety…a curtain? I give it a yank and end up spinning away at the searing pain in my eyes from the strong sunlight burning through.

Stupid black-out curtains, who puts black-out curtains in a lounge? Shielding my eyes I find the door and stagger through, slowly blinking as my vision works to adjust. Mirror, there’s one, a big one by the front door so the vain buggers could check their important image before they went out for the day.

Oh.

Well.

Interesting.

Appears I’m immune then. Shock hits hard, so hard that it pretty much wipes out my tiny mind from thinking of anything ever again.

Dropping my head down, I run through what happened last night. We were on the top level of that car park having a big scrap. Then they started swirling and I got dragged into that tunnel area. Then that one that was on top of me, I got my hands into his stomach and ripped his innards out. I check my hands to find them surprisingly clean. Someone has washed me.

Then my hands on its face, didn’t I pop its eye out? Then the heart. Wasn’t just the heart though, there was loads of shit going in my mouth. The eye juice went in and blood was definitely going in as they were right on top of me and I was facing up.

So I look up to double check, using the tips of my fingers to stretch my eye lids back. Rolling my eyeball up and down, then side to side. Definitely white. I poke my tongue out then wonder why I am poking my tongue out. What do zombie tongues look like? I have no idea so it was a pretty useless action.

‘Immune.’ My voice is rough from being asleep for so long. I check my eyes again, just to be sure. Still white.

Lani passed me that cigarette last night in the Saxon too, I should have got infected from that surely?

Without realising it, the nicotine receptors in my brain have got all excited at the memory of cigarettes. They direct my hands to start groping around for some cigarettes but I never carry them, I always pinch them from the lads.

Where are the lads? And everyone else? Bloody hell I could murder a coffee. Strolling into the kitchen I try and wrestle with the understanding of being immune, but it’s just too great to think about right now. I prioritise the important stuff like having a piss and getting some coffee.

Nice toilet down here, very nicely decorated. I stare round at the little ornaments on the shelves while I urinate into the bowl. They’ve got one of those old Spanish ladies with the big skirt to hide the toilet roll under.

Bladder emptied and back into the kitchen, examining the stove and grinning when I find it’s gas and not electric.

‘Come on, come on…be good to me,’ I whisper to myself, still trying to avoid any thought process of dealing with what happened last night and what it means.

‘Yes!,’ the low hiss of gas escapes from the nozzle so I press the ignition button hoping it’s battery run and not mains.

‘You beauty,’ blue flames pop up in the circle and within a few seconds I’ve got a big pan of water on the hob and searching the cupboards for coffee. I know I’m ignoring the big issues but I need coffee. Today, this morning, right now…I am going to have a cup of coffee before I do anything.

The world can sod off and all the big decisions can just wait until I have had that coffee. Nice, they’ve got Milicano coffee. I like Milicano, shame there’s no milk but you can’t have everything I suppose. They’ve got sugar though.

Popping the lid open I inhale deeply at the rich aroma, savouring a smell that doesn't involve rotten corpses, or rotten bodies, or rotten corpse bodies trying to shove rotten body parts into my gob.

The water boils, as water does when heat is applied. Nice and simple. A chemical reaction that is the cornerstone of a civilised world. I shall make this coffee and then work out where everyone else is, then get some food and maybe later, much, much later, after I have found some smokes, I will try and consider the possibility that I am immune.

Immune. Wow. Lani is immune but then she turned and then went back to normal whereas I have just stayed the same. Does that mean anything? Did I pass something to her when we kissed that night? Or did she pass something to me? Shit, I’m not snogging Dave and the lads if that’s what has to be done. Sod that.

Coffee. Focus on the small things first and let the big things piss off for a bit. Water into the mug, stir and smell the goodness of strong caffeine floating in the air.

Ha. I have coffee. I did it. I actually got to make coffee after waking up. But it’s too hot to drink. Without the cooling effect of milk it will take longer to get down to a temperature that doesn't peel my lips off.

Cold water is added, just a little trickle to bring the heat down a little. Perfect.

Mug in hand I stroll down the hallway, humming away to myself as I ignore the pressing urge to think about serious things. In the lounge I spot my axe and an assault rifle next to the sofa.

After what happened in the fort, I vowed never to be without my axe so it gets taken with me as I walk slowly back to the front door, gently sipping from my mug of coffee. The mug of coffee that I just made. In the kitchen. Like civilised people do.

Looks like another beautiful day. Mind you, it has been too hot lately. Don’t get me wrong, I love the hot weather but this? Too hot, far too hot.

Staring at the door handle I contemplate that I have no free hands left to open it, and the process of trying to decide if I should put the mug or the axe down is relegated to the file labelled “too difficult to think about right now”. So I use my elbow, and try to avoid spilling the contents of the mug everywhere.

My whole body freezes, my elbow half pushing the door handle down. I don’t move but I stare down at the coffee mug. Something just crashed through the lounge window. Something big and heavy and the air is filled with the sound of breaking glass. Now that there is a stonking big hole where the window used to be, I can hear the grunting outside a lot more clearly. Lots of grunting.

Sighing deeply I push the handle down with my elbow and wriggle my foot into the slight gap to pull the door open. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust again from the sunlight, so I just stand there with my axe and my coffee mug.

‘Morning David,’ I call out when my eyes have adjusted.

‘Dave,’ he responds instantly. Not looking round, not hesitating, no welcoming love filled yell of “oh Mr Howie you’re alive and immune …I’m so pleased.”

Stepping out I look left, down at the body that has just fallen from the window frame. Shards and splinters fall down to shatter on the ground. A bit of wooden frame drops down, which makes me think they spent all their money on the downstairs toilet when maybe they should have invested in double glazing.

‘I got coffee,’ I call across.

‘Okay,’ he replies.

‘I just made it.’

‘Okay,’ he replies again.

‘The hobs are gas so I boiled some water.’

‘Okay.’

‘The ignition runs from a battery too, so I didn’t need a flame.’

‘Okay.’

‘It’s Milicano too.’

‘Okay.’

‘Do you want one? The water is still hot.’

‘Not right now Mr Howie, can I have mine in a bit.’

‘Fair enough mate, just say when and I’ll get it done.’

‘Thank you Mr Howie.’

‘You’re welcome Dave.’

I sip my coffee. The coffee I just made whilst I pretend this is a perfectly normal start to a perfectly normal day.

‘Do you need a hand?’ I call out reluctantly and feeling a bit guilty.

‘No thanks Mr Howie, enjoy your coffee.’

‘Cheers Dave, don’t suppose you got any cigarettes have you?’

‘I don’t smoke Mr Howie.’

‘Okay, never mind.’

‘Wait just a second and I’ll have a look round.’

‘Don’t worry too much mate.’

‘It’s not a problem Mr Howie.’

‘Only if you’re sure, I know you don’t like smoking.’

‘Here’s some, er…they say Menthol on the front, are they okay?’

‘Fine mate, thank you.’

‘Catch…’

The packet drops at my feet. Again, I am stuck with the dilemma of not having a free hand to pick them up with. In the end the axe is propped against the wall whilst I pick the packet up and slide one of the slim white sticks out.

Patting my pockets down for a lighter, I start the run up to thinking maybe I will have to go back into the kitchen to use the hob when a red coloured clipper lighter lands at my feet.

‘Cheers Dave.’

‘Okay Mr Howie.’

Coffee and a cigarette. Standing outside the front door on a gorgeous hot summer day. Not a cloud in the sky. The nicotine and caffeine do their evil work quickly, firing my brain up until it’s happily buzzing away.

‘You on your own?’ I shout across.

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

‘Where are the others?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Did you see them?’

‘Clarence got out with the Saxon…’

‘One behind you Dave…’

‘Thank you I knew he was there. Clarence got away with Nick, I saw Lani somewhere near where you got taken down…Didn’t see Simon or Alex.’

Simon and Alex. I love the way he keeps using their first names. I don’t feel worried, something is telling me they’ll be okay and somewhere nearby. I can’t explain why I feel like that, I just know.

‘They’ll be okay,’ Dave adds, ‘they know to stay nearby.’

Finally, I mention the huge elephant in the room, the one I’ve been stoically avoiding since I stepped out.  ‘You killed all these then?’ a mild comment given the utter sea of bodies layering the ground. Bodies piled up in heaps, strewn about, corpses all mangled and very dead. Lots and lots of bodies.

And Dave stood in the middle while they keep stupidly charging at him. They haven’t reacted to my presence but just going for him. Like they have a personal vendetta to take down the small man with two knives.

‘I’m glad you’re up Mr Howie,’ he yells out.

‘Oh thanks Dave, yeah I feel…’

‘These knives are getting blunt, could you throw me two more from the kitchen please.’

‘Oh right, yeah hang on,’ I stroll back inside and open the drawers to select two long straight bladed knives before quickly pouring the still hot water into another mug of Milicano. Back outside I place the mug down as he shouts for me to throw them one at a time, not together, as if I would!

He catches them deftly and takes a split second to step back and stare down at the blades and the handles before shrugging and going back to slicing throats open.

‘Almost there,’ he shouts with just a few more to go.

‘Come and get your coffee, I can finish them off.’

‘No no Mr Howie, I started so I will finish.’

‘You sure Dave?’

‘Quite sure Mr Howie.’

‘Suit yourself,’ I light another cigarette and sip at me coffee. He doesn't look the least bit tired. He looks completely the same as ever. Not sweating, not struggling with heavy legs, just perfect movements that place him exactly where he needs to be.

‘Done,’ he exclaims proudly.

‘What about him?’ I nod down the road to the solitary zombie shuffling in, arriving late to the party.

Dave looks round casually and shrugs before spinning to throw both the knives with incredible ferocity. The sun glints of the spinning blades that embed straight into the things head, driving him off his feet to fall back with two handles poking out his face.

Dave turns back and with a small smile, takes a bow. The shock of it makes me spray my coffee all over the path. Whilst I choke and laugh all at the same time, he strolls down the path, gingerly stepping over bodies until he reaches the front step and lifts his coffee mug, giving me a polite nod as he takes a sip.

‘It’s going to be hot again,’ he remarks as I compose myself from the ridiculous bow.

‘Are you making small talk?’ I ask him.

Shrugging he turns round and stares out at the devastation he has wrought.

‘Are you even human?’ I ask him, ‘have you slept?’

‘Of course I have slept.’

‘No Dave, I mean last night, did you sleep last night?’

‘No.’

‘You’ve been up all night?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did they attack us then?’

‘No.’

‘Oh. So why did you kill them all? How did they find us?’

‘They didn’t Mr Howie.’

‘They’re dead Dave, all of them…right there…I can see them…’

‘I know. I killed them.’

‘Okay, so how did you end up killing them?’

‘With knives mostly,’ he looks at me and I swear he knows full bloody well what he is doing.

‘How did you end up killing them outside this house?’

‘They were running past.’

‘Right?’

‘What?’ He looks at me again.

‘They were running past and then what?’

‘I killed them.’

‘Why?’

‘They’re zombies.’

‘Fucking hell Dave, you do this on purpose.’

‘I didn’t kill them by accident if that’s what you mean.’

‘No I meant you talk like this on purpose…never mind. So they were running past and you decided to kill them? Is that right?’

‘Yes Mr Howie, I just said that.’

‘Okay, so why did you kill them? Other than them being zombies or undead or the enemy…specifically why did you kill them at that point…when they were running past and didn’t know we were here?’

‘I figured the others had got away so it cuts the numbers down and keeps them occupied on me, plus you were asleep so…’

‘Right, got it,’ I take a sip of coffee and stare out into the street. ‘So, did you just charge at them or…?’

‘Oh no,’ he replies, ‘I called out and got them to come back…then more started coming and more…and it just sort of went on like that really.’

‘Righto, makes sense I guess.’

‘I ran out of knives a couple of times,’ he explains nonchalantly, ‘some of these people don’t use proper knives you know,’ he looks over with a frown, ‘they’re cheap and snap easily or they’re not kept sharp. I had to go into a couple of houses and find better ones.’

‘While they were chasing you?’

‘Well, not chasing me…I sort of took them with me.’

An image of Dave fending off hordes of screaming zombies with one knife wielding hand while he casually sorts through someone’s knife drawer springs to mind, lifting them out one after the other and tutting while shaking his head.

‘Not good,’ he adds after a few seconds.

‘What isn’t?’

‘The standard of knives used in this country,’ he replies quickly, ‘really not good. The government should have done something about it.’

‘Like what? Insist that everyone has high tensile commando blades in case of the zombie pandemic?’

He shrugs but doesn't answer.

‘We’ll have to get some more,’ he finally says.

‘Knives?’

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

‘We’ll get some Dave.’

‘Okay Mr Howie.’

‘Did I puke down your leg last night?’

‘Yes.’

‘Sorry about that.’

‘It’s okay, I washed it off.’

‘Okay, and er…thanks for getting me out.’

‘That’s okay.’

‘And thanks for cleaning me up too.’

‘You’re welcome Mr Howie.’

‘And I guess it was you that removed the zombie heart from my mouth.’

‘It was.’

‘Thanks for that.’

‘Okay.’

‘Well….’ I pause, letting the silence fill the air. He glances round and raises his eyebrows before sipping at his coffee and adjusting his position.

‘Immune then,’ I add casually.

‘Looks that way.’

‘Whole heart in my mouth, it was still beating…did you know that?’

‘Was it?’

‘It was.’

‘They do that.’

‘What do?’

‘Hearts Mr Howie, they keep beating for a little while after being ripped out.’

‘You’ve done that then? Ripped hearts out I mean.’

‘Couple of times.’

‘Oh.’

‘Only when it was needed you understand, not you know…for fun.’

‘Of course Dave.’

‘And the blood? Did it go down your throat?’ He asks.

‘It did, lots of it. And eye juice too.’

‘Eye juice?’

‘I popped an eye but the bugger was right above me so the juice went into my mouth, and I think I might have bitten a finger off too.’

‘A finger, did you swallow it?’

‘No idea mate, I was busy at the time, you know…what with the heart thing going on.’

‘I understand,’ he nods.

‘What do you think it means?’ I ask him.

‘Means Mr Howie?’ He stares with what I have come to know as his puzzled expression.

‘Yeah,’ I shrug, ‘what do you think it means?’

‘I think it means you are immune.’

‘And Lani?’

‘Not sure,’ his reply is quick, telling me he’s been thinking about it, ‘it could be that she passed it to you, or you to her…or you are both resistant or immune separate from each other.’

‘I kissed her,’ I say, more to myself, ‘but things like that don’t get passed by kissing do they? Even some diseases don’t get passed from just a kiss let alone the vaccine for them…’

‘I don’t know,’ he shakes his head, a small movement but done firmly, ‘we will need doctors and…’

‘Yeah I know, scientists and machines and generators and then fuel for the fucking generators and then some bugger will just come along and ruin everything.’

‘It does explain one thing though, why they are scared of you,’ he adds.

‘Maybe,’ I don’t deny it this time, no point. They do fear me, not enough to make them run away quivering like jellies but it’s there. ‘And I didn’t turn, Lani turned…’

‘She did,’ he agrees. Silence stretches between us.

‘Did you know?’

‘What?’ He avoids the stare I direct at him.

‘Dave, did you know?’

‘Know what?’

‘You know full well what, did you know?’

‘I thought about it,’ he says quietly, ‘that it was a possibility,’ he adds slowly.

‘But you never mentioned it to me.’

‘No, what good would come from it? It was just a thought process, a factor that was considered along with many others. If I had mentioned it you might have done things differently.’

‘I see.’

‘No Mr Howie, I don’t think you do. There’s a reason why they fear you, there’s a reason why we all heard you that day outside the fort when you said the prayer, there’s a reason why everyone is following you and doing what you say…’

‘Okay,’ I nod slowly, waiting for him to continue.

‘That’s it,’ he says, ‘I don’t know what the reason is, but there is a reason. This outcome, that you are naturally immune was one of the factors I had considered.’

‘Right. What other factors did you consider?’

‘I considered that you were mentally unstable for a while,’ he says without any trace of humour, ‘or just a natural leader, or…’

‘Mentally unstable?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Caltrops? Using Cannon? Charging into the enemy when they outnumbered us by so many?’

‘But they worked,’ I cut in, not quite sure how to react.

‘Which is why I don’t think you are mentally unstable now.’

‘Cheers then mate.’

‘You’re welcome Mr Howie.’

‘What if I was?’

‘What?’

‘Mentally unstable?’

‘I don’t know, you seemed to get things done so…I don’t know.’

‘Maybe we all are, you know…a bit weird in the head…we must be. We could just sod off and find somewhere quiet and safe.’

‘We could.’

‘But we won’t.’

‘We won’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because,’ he turns to me, ‘the fight isn’t over yet, we’ve got you and Lani and the dog. That’s three living creatures that appear to be immune to the infection. So we have to work out what we do with that, and how we use it to our advantage.’

‘Speaking of which, we better go find them. You reckon they’ll be near the car park?’

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

Fifteen

‘YO!’

‘What the…’ Blowers mutters, all three of them spinning round while grabbing pistols, Meredith jumping round quickly to sound a warning bark.

‘Jagger?’ Cookey calls out at the youth striding down the street.

‘Nah bruv, Mohammed innit, Jagger back there,’ he thumbs behind him, ‘OI Jagger,’ he yells, ‘it’s clear bruv.’

They watch as Jagger sneaks out from a front garden leading several younger children to catch up with Mohammed.

‘Sweet,’ Jagger grins, his wide smile and white teeth visible even from that distance. Moving at a steady jog they soon reach the others, Meredith standing her ground for a few seconds before moving off to the side. She is aloof and watchful, picking up on the non-threatening vibe from the new comers and recognising them from the previous day, but they’re not  the pack so she won’t attack but she won’t immediately accept them either.

‘What you doing here?’ Blowers asks looking at the small group.

‘And why haven’t you cleaned up?’ Lani adds taking in the filth and grime covered children still wearing the dirt from the battle.

‘We had to starburst,’ Mohammed explains, ‘getting out from that car park, fuckin’ things were everywhere…’

‘No choice,’ Jagger continues, ‘they’s comin’ in so hard we had to do one.’

‘What about the Saxon?’ Lani asks quickly.

‘That went, your big hench fella got ‘em away.’

‘Clarence?’ Lani leans forward, staring intently at the young lads.

‘Yeah him,’ Mohammed nods,’ he got them out, said they’ll come back.’

‘You seen the others?’ Jagger asks, Lani switching her gaze between the two slightly older lads.

‘Others?’ Lani probes.

‘Loads of us ran off,’ Jagger says.

‘Went off every direction, they’s runnin’ like the feds was coming,’ Mohammed cuts in.

‘Will they stay here? You know, like in this area or what?’

‘Guess so,’ Mohammed shrugs, ‘dunno.’

‘Car park first, then we can start looking,’ Lani says clearly with an air of authority. Leading them off she heads back down the road. Meredith going ahead in her natural role to scout the ground, sniffing and running in circles while constantly glancing back to check the position of the group.

‘You not seen Mr Howie then?’ Jagger asks the lads, ‘what happened to him?’

‘No idea,’ Blowers replies, ‘he got pulled into the ramp…’

‘I checked but couldn’t find him,’ Lani cuts in, ‘Dave went after him so…’

‘So what?’ Jagger asks.

‘Dave would have got him out,’ Blowers says confidently.

‘Out where?’

‘Don’t know, anywhere away from that lot, he’ll stay close though…’ Blowers explains.

‘You don’t think he got done then? Mr Howie? Like you know, got bit or sommin?’

‘No,’ Blowers shakes his head.

‘Kind of weird,’ Cookey cuts in, ‘can’t explain it but…dunno, just don’t think he has.’

‘How?’ Jagger pushes the question, ‘he was fucked, they’s all on him.’

‘Maybe,’ Cookey trails off, the worry evident on his face but still with that indescribable feeling inside that Mr Howie is okay, that Dave got to him. He tries to rationalise the feeling, give it a name or words but it’s so fleeting and intangible that he can’t seem to grasp it solidly enough. He just…. Knows.

‘You alright?’ Blowers asks him, seeing the deeply puzzled look.

‘Eh? Yeah fine, just thinking…’

‘About the boss?’

‘Yeah, like he’s okay but I’m still shitting myself that he’s not okay but I know he is okay and…’

‘Me too,’ Lani adds, ‘same thing.’

‘Really?’ Cookey asks.

‘Not just Howie though but all of us, Nick and Clarence too, even Dave.’

‘Yeah,’ Cookey exclaims, ‘yeah same thing, like I’m worried and scared and stuff but at the same time I kind of know they’re okay…can’t explain it.’

‘Fuckin’ freaky,’ Mohammed comments. Following the conversation he looks at each one, first at Lani then at the two lads. They’re different and have an air of survivor about them, that nothing could stop them, completely and utterly dependable. All three of them constantly scan the area, checking the flanks and rear, weapons ready but held relaxed. He and Jagger have a closeness built up from years of friendship and both know they can rely on the other.

He thinks of Maddox, of the devotion they all feel towards him. That he has that same thing that Howie has, that ability to lead and inspire everyone else.

‘Shit,’ Cookey comments as the car park comes into view, taking in the bodies and the raging fires of the High Street in the near distance beyond, ‘we gotta stop burning everything down.’

‘Nah, it’s fun,’ Blowers replies.

‘Motherfucking shit,’ Jagger spits, ‘look down there, what the fuck?’ Crossing a junction and while everyone else stares at the High Street and car park ahead, he glances down to the hundreds of bodies lying strewn across the road.

The group stop, all of them taking in the view of the corpses littering the ground. They’re piled up and stretched out in long lines, tracing the route Dave took through houses and gardens and then back to the road.

‘Dave,’ Blowers says.

‘Dave?’ Jagger asks.

‘Dave,’ Blowers nods, ‘come on.’ Entering the road they head towards the first corpse, spotting the cut throat, then the next one and the one after that. Each throat cut open has a severed artery, and while that body still lived it pumped pints of blood out until the heart ceased to function. Hundreds of bodies, hundreds of hearts, thousands of pints of blood and the road is thick with the stuff. So dense and thick it remains wet and sticky even in the heat, and the stench is terrible. Rotten corpses, bowels voided with metallic tang of blood. Flies and insects have already moved in, taking advantage of the bodies to generate whole colonies of breeding grounds. A massacre, like something from a movie. Too much to be taken in and made sense off by the naked eye. They’ve all seen death, and lots of it, but the blood is something else.

‘Look,’ Cookey points to the corpse lying a short way off with two knives sticking out of the face, ‘Dave.’

‘Definitely Dave,’ Lani nods.

‘All of these?’ Jagger asks, ‘no fucking way…’

‘All the throats are cut, that’s Dave,’ Lani shrugs, ‘no one else can do that.’

‘One man?’ Jagger says dubiously.

‘You saw him Jagger,’ Mohammed says, ‘last night, he was like a ninja or sommin’’

‘Where are they then? Some of these are fresh…very fresh,’ Blowers asks, kneeling close to a corpse to inspect the surgical like cut administered to the neck.

‘Must be close,’ Lani looks round, staring at the houses.

‘Here,’ Cookey calls out, standing at a garden gate he points to the window fractured and splintered with the body slumped at the base of the house wall.

‘Boss?’ Blowers calls out making his way down the path. Pushing the door open, he spots the two empty coffee mugs on the doorstep and bends down to feel the sides of the mugs.

‘They warm?’ Lani asks.

‘Not really,’ he replies. Inside the house they search through the ground floor rooms, spotting the sofa and the red stained cloths Dave used to clean the filth from Howie.

‘They made coffee,’ Cookey calls out from the kitchen, ‘gas is still on and this pan is still a bit warm.’

‘Just missed them then. Two mugs though, so Mr Howie must be okay,’ Blowers says, his hard face staring down at the pan held by Cookey ,then looking up to the open coffee pot and the stained teaspoon on the side.

‘Tobacco,’ Lani sniffs the air, ‘someone’s had a smoke.’

‘Dave doesn't smoke,’ Blowers nods firmly, ‘they must be at the car park.’

Moving faster now they exit the house and thread carefully back over the corpses, making their way to the end of the road and back towards the car park in the distance.

Thick smoke billows from the burning High Street, giving the area the look of a warzone. Bodies lie everywhere and the stench of death, of rotting flesh, clings to the area.

Heat like nothing ever felt by the young people bears down, oppressive and suffocating and the combined effect makes it feel like they are walking through hell.

Taking a breath, Blowers gets ready to call out for Dave and Mr Howie but the oppression of the scene and the heat makes him hesitate, instead exhaling to keep walking silently.

Meredith runs ahead with her nose down, circling in large loops as she scours the ground and constantly glances back to check the position of the group behind her. All eyes scan the area ahead, eagerly trying to pick out the two figures that should be there.

Reaching the ugly grey building, they pause at the start of the vehicle ramp, all of them casting about and looking to each other.

‘Check round the back,’ Lani instructs, as she stares round at the silence of the scene.

Blowers and Cookey peel off, quickly moving round to the side entrance of the stairwell. They check inside before continuing round the back and finally to the front, ‘nothing,’ Blowers reports.

‘Nothing?’ Lani asks.

‘No, nothing,’ Blowers affirms, ‘inside?’

‘Probably, I’ll go with Meredith up the ramp, you two take the stairs.’

‘On it,’ Blowers nods, striding back round the side of the building with Cookey.

‘We waiting here yeah?’ Jagger asks.

‘Please,’ Lani gives the one word answer. There’s no doubt those bodies were Dave’s work and Dave wouldn’t be there without Howie. They’ve had coffee and even a cigarette and they’d know to stay at the car park. Maybe they didn’t know everyone splintered and ran off. They could have grabbed a car and be heading for the fort right now. No, they wouldn’t do that. They would be here checking and searching for a while before moving off.

Heading up the ramp with Meredith, she takes greater care to check the bodies. Convinced that Howie and Dave are both safe but needing that added re-assurance. Slowly she climbs higher, passing the openings for the levels as she scours the floor, shoving bodies over with her foot and pressing on.

‘Lani?’ Cookey calls down, having reached the top using the much quicker stairwell.

‘Here,’ Lani shouts back from the depths of the tunnel, ‘you got anything?’

‘Nope, you?’

‘Nothing,’ she shouts back. A minute later and they all stand looking round, feeling lost.

‘Any ideas?’ Lani asks eventually. The two lads stay quiet, shaking their heads as the worried looks come flooding back.

‘Where are they?’ She asks out loud.

‘They’ll come back,’ Blowers says after a few seconds of silence, ‘we’ll wait at the bottom for them, they’ll come back.’

Sixteen

Sometimes, you get pushed just too far. A sequence of events can lead to the loss of control. Those events could be individually insignificant and, taken separately, they wouldn’t raise an eyebrow. However, lack of sleep affects moods very quickly. Heat, constant, sustained and oppressive will also sap away at the energy reserves. Fear will start with a tight knot in your stomach, then swell to drive all other thoughts. Suddenly, you’re in a nightmare.

Clarence is a big man by any degree. A strong man too. Stronger than normal humans and it is argued that such men possess a gene that is different to others, a gene that changes the way the deep muscle fibres adhere to the bone and tissues, giving them larger, denser muscles that are capable of far greater feats than other men.

But these men are normally gentle in nature. They do not feel the need to dominate nor control others with their size, but rather they become natural protectors of those who are less able to defend themselves.

Once in a while though, even those men can get pushed too far and the resulting explosion of rage is something that will frighten even the toughest of minds.

Take, for instance, a big man with such capability. Take away his sleep for almost two days, give him crap food without the proper nutrition that drops his blood sugar. Give him heat, sustained and constant. Put his friends in peril. Give him an added pressure that the safe place is now under danger. Give him a task, a task that requires him to drive to what was the safe place, deposit one group and then return to the scene of one of the hardest battles he has known to find his team.

He can cope with that. He will not only cope but he will rise to the challenge. He can fend off the tiredness, the fatigue, the heat sapping at his mood. He can worry about the dire threat at the place of safety later. All he has to do now is return to the car park and find the others.

What he cannot cope with, what will cause the explosion of rage, is the Saxon breaking down. The Saxon, which has been as much a part of the team as any of them, with so much heart and soul that it almost makes it an entity with conscious will, something on their side, a machine made from moving parts but with a desire to help. The Saxon that has never failed , now fails. One of the many moving parts doesn't work.

Clarence explodes. The anger, rage, sheer uncontainable pressure bursts out like a nuclear detonation. A small town with a relatively small High Street. And Clarence, launching litter bins through the windows of those shops. Clarence, ripping benches from the ground to swing round and through more shops windows. Clarence, who takes something long and hard, too angry to even see what it is, and uses the object to beat more objects. Vehicles, cars, vans, truck, windows, doors…anything in his way is destroyed.

The Saxon sits nearby, forlorn and alone. It has ceased to function and will not keep going. Despite the prayers, the curses, the threats and more prayers, it simply stopped. It could be something simple, something that would take five minutes to fix. But Clarence is a soldier, not a mechanic. He can give field triage and treat battle wounds. He can fire probably any weapon ever designed or made, but mechanical stuff, that’s left to the engineers.

He doesn't speak or make any sound, but his eyes blaze as the air is filled with smashing, crashing, breaking, splintering, ripping and tearing sounds. If this was normal society with normal rules, the first attending officer would be standing back and using the police radio to summon back-up. He would be telling them to bring everyone. Bring dogs and Tasers and helicopters and shields and guns. Call the army and request they send a tank. Phone an elephant vet and ask for a shit load of tranquilisers because there is no way, not on god’s green earth, that the officer is going anywhere near the giant man going nuts.

Alas, this is not normal society. This is the apocalypse and there isn’t anyone to help or possibly hinder. So time does what time does, and lets the big man play out his anger until the blind rage starts to ebb. Leaving him a little shaky, a little bit more tired but feeling a whole lot better.

Coming to, he realises just how far he travelled from the Saxon, standing down the street and looking back at the trail of destruction to the Saxon.

Chest heaving, muscles pumped from heavy use, sweat pours from his red face. The rage has burnt out to leave his mind calm, more able to rationalise and think through the dilemma.

The Saxon doesn't lock, or if it does, they have no keys to lock it. That means leaving it here with all the weapons and equipment. Unless he can find something else to use that is big enough to transport everything and still bring the team back, plus all those kids.

His hand unknowingly goes to his chin, rubbing across his thick stubble in the same manner Big Chris did whenever he was in deep thought. Mind you, he muses, all he has to do is get there, they can find other vehicles in that town.

What they cannot afford is for the Saxon to stay here with all the equipment in it, so some know all mechanic can come along and take it, or strip it clean.

But that is going to take time. Consider the options. Shit, Howie and Chris are far better at decisions like this.

The team are scattered but strong, they’ll know to head back to the car park and wait, or if the area is crawling with the zombies, to lie low and wait nearby. The children will hopefully do the same. He thinks through his options. Finding someone to fix the Saxon is instantly negated by the simple fact of how to find someone. Leaving the Saxon loaded up here cannot be done, so it has to be stripped and the weapons will have to go with him.

‘Right,’ he says firmly, ‘need a van.’ Staring round he spots several that would have been perfect, if they hadn’t just been completely trashed by a berserk ,bald headed giant going crazy with heavy litter bins and wrought iron benches.

Feeling more than a little ashamed at his actions, Clarence walks back to the Saxon. He takes a long drink from one of the water bottles as he looks up and down the road trying to decide which direction to go to find a van.

Shrugging he goes left, breaking into an easy jog whilst he offers more prayers to keep the others safe.

Seventeen

‘Which way?’

‘Don’t know, I lost her.’

‘Shit,’ I bend over gasping for breath, spitting on the ground as I let the sweat drip from my forehead.

‘Could be a trick,’ he says again. Glancing up I shake my head. Unbelieveable, Dave’s hardly even breathing fast and still looks perfectly composed. I’ve slept all night, had a coffee and water and I’m blowing out my arse. Still, I had a heart shoved in my gob and he didn’t. Not that that makes any difference.

‘Could be,’ I concede.

Standing up, I take in the view. It’s just another street, with more houses. The girl could be anywhere, in any of them, or gone into the gardens at the back or even kept going. She was a fair distance off when we saw her. Just a small blond haired child, who we assume is female from the long flowing locks and the brightly coloured summer dress. She was standing at the end of the road watching us as we came out of the house. Both of us saw her and stood there watching for a second as though expecting her to walk down or be joined by adults.

Of course, the fact that she could be one of them was considered very quickly but by the act of standing there and watching, and waving back when I lifted my arm to her, suggested that she wasn’t.

Dave isn’t convinced though, I can see it in his face and the way he keeps saying it could be a trick.

When she didn’t walk towards us, we started walking towards her. She started backing away so I waved and called out, which seemed to prompt her to run off.

We gave chase and now we’re here. In another unknown residential street, staring at more houses, after running through hell knows how many other bloody streets until we lost sight of her. Even Dave, running ahead to keep a decent view, lost sight of her.

‘She must have gone to ground here.’

‘Probably,’ he replies.

‘HELLO!’ I shout out but my voice is weak and doesn't carry that far, ‘Dave, you call out…’

‘Okay,’ he takes a deep breath.

‘Dave,’ I interrupt.

‘What?’

‘Try not to sound angry.’

‘Pardon?’

‘If she’s on her own, she isn’t going to come out to you bellowing about finding her house and burning it down is she?’

‘I wouldn’t say that,’ he stares at me.

‘Yeah right, well…just try and say something nice.’

‘Okay,’ he sucks the air in again, pauses then blows it out before looking at me, ‘like what?’

‘Er, I don’t know just sound nice,’ I shrug.

‘Shall I say we’ve got sweets?’

‘No Dave, we’re not paedophiles. Er…say we’re from the army and we’re here to help, yeah…say we’re soldiers and we won’t hurt anyone.’

‘Okay,’ he nods and draws the breath in again, then again blows it out.

‘What now?’

‘You shouldn’t lie to children,’ he says.

‘Eh? How are we lying? You were from the army and…’

‘Yeah but we do hurt people, we hurt lots of people.’

‘They’re zombies Dave, they’re not people.’

‘They were people.’

‘Yes, they were people but they’re not people now.’

‘Okay.’

‘And you were about to say we had sweets, that’s lying.’

‘It isn’t, I have got sweets,’ he replies.

‘Where?’

‘These,’ he pulls a sealed tube of fruit pastilles from his pocket. They’re all bent out of shape and somewhat squashed but easily still recognisable.

‘What the fuck Dave?’ I stare at him, ‘what…why have you got them?’

Shrugging he stares down at them, then back up at me, ‘I like fruit pastilles.’

‘Right, so why haven’t you eaten them?’

‘I was saving them.’

‘What for? The apocalypse?’

‘Don’t know, just saving them…’

‘Okay well, er…great,’ I offer a quick confused smile, ‘best stick with the soldiers bit and not hurting people though, shouting we’ve got sweets to a little girl running away is a bit creepy.’

‘Okay,’ drawing breath he raises his head, ‘WE ARE SOLDIERS…WE ARE NOT HERE TO HURT ANYONE….I SAY AGAIN…WE ARE SOLDIERS….WE ARE NOT HERE TO HURT YOU…’

Stock still with mouths open, we strain to listen for any sounds. Silence. Then, a door closing somewhere off to the left.

‘That way,’ I nod. We set off, walking steadily to keep quiet as we scan windows and doors. Another slight banging noise comes from the houses so we cross over the road, staring ahead but unsure exactly where it is coming from.

‘We can’t just leave a little girl here,’ I whisper.

‘I didn’t say we should,’ he replies quietly.

‘But you said it’s probably a trick so you must be thinking this is a waste of time and we should be trying to find the others.’

‘No,’ he lies badly, ‘well, maybe,’ he admits just as quickly.

‘What was that?’ I ask at the sound of something creaking then juddering.

‘Garden fence?’ He suggests.

‘Shout again.’

‘WE ARE SOLDIERS FROM THE ARMY, WE ARE NOT HERE TO HURT YOU…’ immediately followed by another bang. We set off at a jog, knowing the noise was somewhere up head from one of the houses on the right side. All of the front doors have been pushed closed and the curtains drawn at the front. Veering off, I trace a path through to one of the doors and check the handle.

‘Locked.’

‘Okay,’ Dave replies. Jogging into the next garden he checks the door to find it swings open. He waits whilst I run round, joining him looking at the damaged front door and the lock busted off.

‘Hello?’ I call out, ‘don’t be scared, we’re here to help you.’ Treading softly, we head into the lounge area, spotting a makeshift den made on the floor with food wrappers and comic books piled up. Empty glasses, bags of crisps, chocolate bars and a torch. The air smells of body odour, of someone unwashed.

Into the kitchen and the back door is open. We head out into the garden to find a small ladder has been propped against the fence on the left side and a bigger ladder on the right, offering an easy escape route from the garden to either side.

‘Hello? Are you there? We’re not here to hurt you, we just want to make sure you’re okay.’

Nothing, no response, no noises either. ‘She must be terrified,’ I add quietly.

‘If she isn’t a zombie you mean,’ he replies.

‘With a den in the lounge and comics? And these ladders?’

‘Could be,’ he shrugs.

‘Try that one, I’ll do this one,’ I make for the bigger ladder, scaling the rungs to the top of the fence to peer over into the next garden. With the height advantage I can see there are ladders, step ladders, chairs, tables and storage boxes all stacked against each of the garden fences for at least the next four houses down.

‘Same here,’ Dave replies when I tell him.

‘She must have been here since it started, eating shit food and waiting for family or something.’

‘Check inside?’ He asks. Leading the way he enters the back door and into the house. The dining room looks untouched with a fine layer of dust covering everything. The kitchen is the only other downstairs room other than the lounge that shows signs of life. More empty cups by the sink and empty bottles of squash left on the side. The bin is overflowing with wrappers and packets.

Upstairs we find the bathroom in a shit state with faeces stuck to the side of the toilet bowl and shit smeared hand towels in the bin. The empty toilet roll holder suggests the paper tissue ran out some time ago.

Closing the door quickly to keep the stench inside, we check the other rooms. One big double room that must be her parent’s room. No signs of disturbance other than a few drawers opened and the bed sheets all messed up like someone got up quickly and didn’t return.

Another bedroom looks like an older child uses it, posters of teen boy bands and homework stacked on a desk. The smallest room must be the girls; the bedding is filthy and stained with piss and smeared with what could be either chocolate or more shit.

‘Poor sod,’ shaking my head I take in the sight of the unkempt room, clothes strewn about and toys everywhere.

‘Milly,’ Dave says, nodding at the glittery name stencilled on the door.

‘Come on,’ heading back downstairs we go into the back garden and stand quietly for a few seconds. ‘Milly?’ I shout out, ‘can you hear me Milly? My name is Howie and my friend is called Dave, we’re here to help you…’

Still nothing. She must have stayed very quiet and very hidden to survive this long. Her instinct to stay away from others has to be strong, so no wonder she’s staying quiet now.

‘Milly, we have to make sure you are okay…that’s all we need to do. We won’t try and grab you or do anything and I promise we won’t touch you…’ Still no response.

‘Any ideas?’ I ask Dave.

‘Could threaten her,’ he suggests, which prompts a long and awkward few seconds while I conjure the image of Dave holding a knife to the throat of her favourite doll while screaming he’ll do her in if she doesn't show herself.

‘No mate.’

‘I’VE GOT FRUIT PASTILLES’ He bellows, causing me to jump out of my skin from the lack of warning. Bloody hell, I wouldn’t come out with some maniac screaming about fruit pastilles, let alone a little girl.

‘Too much?’ He asks.

‘Just a big mate,’ I reply. Instead, we climb the ladders and sit atop the fences scanning the area. Lots of garden sheds, greenhouses, play houses and tarpaulins that could all easily hide a child.

‘Dave, can you see my side from there?’

Perfectly balanced on top of the ladder he nods. ‘I’ll go this side and start checking, you keep watch.’

‘Maybe I should search and you keep watch Mr Howie.’

‘It isn’t a trick Dave, she’s not a zombie.’

‘How can you be sure?’

‘Zombies don’t read comics and they don’t shit the bed either…’ jumping down I start in the first adjacent garden, checking all the places that could hide a small body. The shed is clear, as are the  playhouse and the recesses so I move into the next garden.

‘Milly?’ I call out repeatedly, ‘don’t be scared, we’re not going to hurt you I promise…just shout out and we can make sure you’re okay.’

There is no response but I keep going, keeping my tone light and soft and wondering if my shouting is just scaring her more. But then what would be more frightening? Me searching in silence with the little girl hearing me getting closer, or calling out nicely so she can tell where I am. I make noise too, not banging or anything loud. But just making sure I don’t go too soft.

‘Anything Dave?’

‘No.’

‘I think she must be terrified of us,’ I shout out, ‘I feel sad that we are scaring her, I don’t want to scare anyone, do you Dave?’

‘Sometimes,’ he replies. I curse foully under my breath and give him a hard look.

‘But not children though eh Dave?’ Please don’t say anything bad Dave.

‘Er…no?’ He shouts back, clearly struggling to keep up with the layered conversation.

‘Milly?’ I was just about to call out that she can meet our big dog called Meredith, but I realise that would be about the same as shouting we’ve got sweets and a puppy. Creepy. Very creepy.

‘Other way,’ Dave bellows. ‘MILLY…STAND STILL,’ he orders with that parade ground voice booming out. It scares me and I know him, so god only knows the effect it must have on the little girl.

Back over the fences, vaulting, clambering and a whole lot of falling, whilst trying not to use really bad swear words. Dave, as ever, goes off like a gazelle, gracefully leaping any obstacle in his path. He sees this as a challenge, not as a rescue mission for a little girl.

‘Dave,’ I yell, ‘ease up mate…don’t frighten her.’ Bit late for that, but he does slow down a bit and seems to realise he’s not going after an armed, insurgent baddie. Again, out of breath and sweating freely, I join him at the last point he saw her, several gardens down from our original point of access.

‘Which way?’

‘Lost her again.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

‘You telling me we’re being outwitted by a little girl.’

‘Seems that way Mr Howie.’

‘Dave, the scourge of the British Army, the uber trained secret ninja commando has now been outwitted twice by a little…’

‘You told me to slow down,’ he says rather defensively.

‘True,’ I accept with a slight nod, ‘so it’s either over that fence,’ I point across the garden, ‘or over that fence,’ I change my pointing direction to the rear of the garden, ‘or through the house.’

‘Yes.’

‘Three directions and two of us…right…would you mind getting up on that fence to have a look while I check the house.’ He goes off, getting up the step ladder onto the top and examining the view while I make my way to the back door, dripping sweat and snot everywhere.

Luckily there is a nice thick roll of kitchen towel on the side which I make great use off, noisily blowing my nose and mopping my brow, and even taking the opportunity to grab a drink of water, which earns me a haughty glance from Dave.

‘Milly?’ Calling out softly as I thread through the downstairs rooms, checking in each one. I feel terrible at scaring the girl but she can’t stay here alone. She might be able to get by now while food is easy to find, but once that’s gone she’ll struggle, and this hot weather can’t last forever either. The thought makes me think how many children have been left alone and frightened, desperately waiting for their mums and dads to come back.

Poor kid, she must have been so terrified but what choice do we have? We might scare her a bit more now, but then we can get her to a safe place with people that care for her.

Suddenly, small feet go thudding down the stairs, flying across the hall and out the open front door. Twisting round I catch a flash of blond hair as I start running.

‘Milly, just hang on…please stop running…’ Out the front door and she’s already at the gate, turning sharp to sprint across the road. Sucking in air to shout for Dave, I bite it away at the last second, knowing it will only keep the fear factor high if I’m screaming while chasing her.

‘Milly, please…it’s too hot to keep running…my god you are so quick!’ By the time I’m at the gate she’s across the road and increasing her pace. Nothing for it but to speed up so I try and push my legs faster.

Luckily, she goes for a straight sprint and tries legging it straight down the road. She’s quick, but my legs are longer and I start to reduce the distance between us. She glances back, but surprisingly she doesn't look that scared, just utterly determined to outrun me.

‘Milly,’ I gasp, ‘please stop running.’ Gradually, painfully I gain closer and start to reach out. Being this close, I can see how filthy and lank her greasy hair is, and how the bright summer dress is covered with stains. Running in her slipstream I can smell the musty stale odour of an unwashed body.

Finally, my hand just catches the top of her small shoulder. She stops dead, spins and sinks her teeth into the top of my knuckles. I yelp and pull my hand back as she swiftly kicks me in the privates. I drop to the floor as stars and colours explode in front my eyes, the searing pain in my bollocks obliterating all other thoughts.

A shadow falls across my closed eyes. Glancing up, I see Dave standing there shaking his head without the slightest trace of sympathy on his face.

‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ he shrugs.

‘Don’t just bloody stand there, get after her.’

‘I don’t need to,’ he replies, which earns him a confused glance until I prise my head up to see her stood off at a respectable distance watching us.

‘Oh god that hurts.’ Letting my head rest on the hard surface of the road, I wait for the pain to abate before stumbling back to my feet, shaking my sore hand with a perfect imprint of teeth across the back of it.

Dave stares at the hand then shakes his head again. Fortunately the skin isn’t broken but it still bloody hurts.

‘You sure you never had kids Dave,’ I ask him at the sight of the fearless girl watching us closely.

‘Quite sure,’ he replies.

‘Sister perhaps? Cousin? Niece?’

‘No Mr Howie,’ he answers seriously.

‘Milly? Is that your name?’ Calling out but she doesn't reply or show any signs of hearing me, ‘listen, we’re not here to hurt you…I promise…’ she looks maybe seven or eight years old, small and slight build, ‘you can’t stay here Milly, this place isn’t right for you…we have a er…’ shit, what do I say now? Come with us to our big fort?

‘We have a place, a big place with lots of people and lots of children with their mums and dads, and we have food…lots of food…’ As we take a very slight step forward, she takes a very big step backwards. Making it clear she is more than happy to turn and run.

‘Please don’t run again,’ I call out, ‘we’re both old and can’t keep chasing you.’

‘I can,’ Dave cuts in quickly.

‘Ssshhh. Milly, we just need to make sure you’re okay…do you live with anyone?’ No response, ‘Mum or Dad? Do you have any brothers or sisters?’ Still no response. “Is that your house?’ I point back up the road but, again, she shows no response.

‘You want to me grab her?’ Dave asks, not quite quiet enough and she bursts away.

‘Bloody hell,’ groaning we start after her, ‘just keep her in sight until she gets tired.’

‘That might take a while,’ he replies.

‘Get off,’ I scoff, ‘she’s only little…how long can she keep going?’

Eighteen

‘Do you think we’ve gone far enough off the beaten track Norman?’ Andrew asks, stopping to wipe the sweat from his red brow. His thinning brown hair clings to his scalp, giving him a look of a thirties gangster with greased down locks.

Norman stops and makes a point of looking around, narrowing his eyes in that hard look he has been trying to perfect throughout the day.

‘Not sure old chap,’ Norman replies quietly, ‘this terrain is quite open, so we could still be easily spotted. Maybe we should find some cover somewhere for the night.’

‘For the night?’ Lilly cuts in, ‘it’s only half past three and we need more food and water…we should find a house and a car…’

‘And we will,’ Norman is quick to reply, ‘most definitely but er…well I am just a little concerned at showing ourselves so maybe a few more hours away from the er…populated zones would er…be er...beneficial.’

‘Really?’ Andrew asks quizzically, ‘well yes I suppose there is some merit in your suggestion.’

Shaking her head, Lilly again feels a wave of shame at the bad thoughts she has of her father, at his weak disposition and the way he seems to hang off every word Norman says. It’s quite obvious to Lilly that Norman is making it up as he goes along, and god knows why he wants to be out here in the countryside for so long. But it does feel a bit safer out here, especially after finding that body in the house and all those other houses with their kitchens cupboards stripped.

‘So, onto the next matter at hand,’ Norman nods round at his little group as he asserts his position as leader, ‘what’s our supplies situation like?’

‘Supplies?’ Sam asks, as she stares at her father and wonders why he’s being so weird, and why he keeps glancing at Lilly.

‘Water, and er…food,’ Norman explains.

‘We just ate it all,’ Samantha says, ‘like in that house we were just in…I mean duh Dad…’

‘Yes, thank you, Samantha,’ Norman huffs, ‘I am quite aware of the meal we just had, I was just asking what we had left.’

‘Nothing really,’ Lilly says, ‘few bottles of water but that’s it.’

‘Right, so we do need some more supplies then. I suggest we keep going and hopefully find a farmhouse or…you know like a country cottage or something.’

‘Or something?’ Samantha mutters.

‘What was that Sam?’ Norman snaps.

‘I said or something.’ Samantha rubs her stomach as the dull ache from her period, the heat and the constant walking take their toll and drive her already precarious mood down even lower.

‘You boys alright?’ Norman beams, quickly moving on from having to deal with his awkward daughter in one of her awkward moods. ‘Good,’ he adds, not giving them a chance to reply, ‘let’s press on then.’

So they do. They press on. Walking down footpaths and country lanes that weave and snake through the sun parched countryside. Passing fields that should have been lush and green but are  starting to show the first effects of such a prolonged dry spell with extraordinary temperatures. Forests in the distance look dark and inviting, offering shade against the glare of the sun.

The unmade lanes are rough and undulating, and all of them are feeling the effects of wearing inadequate shoes within a few hours. Feet become painful and sore, legs aching from the sustained walking after so many days of barely moving. Sweat is pumped out from pores but not enough fluids are put back in. Dehydration starts to set in, only mild at first and the group ebbs into silence as their bodies subconsciously work to preserve energy.

Dull headaches then start to nag, eyes become irritated at the hot sun and lack of shade. Skin feeling itchy, sore and dry and they all find their minds flashing with images of swimming pools, of the cooling sea , of glasses of cold coke and juice, water fountains and water falls. Their brains sending messages, urging their bodies to get water.

The water they do have is sipped and conserved, Lilly making sure the young boys get what they need before anyone else.

Billy and Todd being so quiet worries her. They don’t complain but keep going with tiny feet plodding along in the dirt road, kicking up dust and sending small stones skittering into the verges. Samantha rubs her stomach, wincing at the dull pain and cramps shooting through her insides. The two men stay at the front and neither of them are looking round often enough, both seemingly absorbed into their own thoughts.

Lilly takes all of this in. Scanning the vista herself and periodically checking behind them. When the shade from trees offers some minor relief, she gently guides the boys over to the dappled shade. She holds them there for a couple of minutes to drink water and to wash their hot faces off.

‘I’m tired Lilly,’ Billy mutters, his voice muted and sounding far away. The concern is etched clearly on Lilly’s face as she strokes his cheeks and tells him they will stop soon. She turns to Todd to do exactly the same, as she notices neither Norman or Samantha step forward to offer words or actions of encouragement.

‘Come on,’ she takes their hands, ‘let’s play eye spy…shall I go first? Okay…eye spy with my little eye something beginning with T.’

Silence as the boys stare around, suspiciously looking at the ground, then the verges, then the sky and over to the rolling meadows sweeping into the distance.

‘Come on,’ Lilly smiles, ‘it’s an easy one.’

‘Tree,’ Norman calls out.

‘Dad!’ Sam snaps, ‘that was for the boys.’

‘Was it tree?’ Todd asks.

‘Yes, yes it was,’ Lilly stares at the back of Norman, wondering why on earth he’d do that.

‘Dad, it’s your go now,’ Todd pipes up.

‘Eye spy with my little eye something beginning with…B’

‘Bumble bee,’ Billy calls out.

‘No,’ Norman doesn't even look round.

‘Nice try though Billy,’ Lilly lifts his hand up and smiles down, ‘come on…try again…what about you Todd?’

‘Er…’Todd stares about, ‘billy goat?’

‘No Todd, can you see a billy goat?’ Norman asks.

‘Good try though Todd,’ Lilly smiles again.

‘Give up?’ Norman asks, ‘Barley corn!’

‘Dad! How are they supposed to know that?’ Samantha hisses.

‘The field, it’s full of barley corn.’

‘I didn’t even know that, how are they supposed to know it?’ Samantha continues.

‘Oh dear, I’ve upset the apple cart here Andrew… it seems my daughter is having one of her moods.’

‘I am not having a mood!’

‘Todd, why don’t you have a go now,’ Lilly says quickly.

‘But no one got Dad’s Bee.’

‘I’m sure he won’t mind,’ Lilly replies.

‘Of course not Todd, you have a go,’ Norman says in a weak attempt at being gracious.

‘Eye spying with my little eye something that begins with R…’ Todd says proudly.

‘Road,’ Norman almost shouts.

‘Dad!’ Sam warns.

‘Road?’ Billy asks, realising Todd neither said yes or no to his father’s suggestion.

‘Roof,’ Andrew shouts.

‘Dad, it’s for the boys,’ Lilly’s tone, while carefully restrained towards Norman, is unleashed on her own father.

‘No, a roof. Over there, look,’ Andrew points ahead at the slate grey roof clearly coming into view.

‘Looks like a farmhouse,’ Norman comments. Lilly stares ahead, at the single detached building and thinks that although she doesn't know much about farming, surely a farmhouse would be like in a farm? This one is just a big, old house with a low wall running round the garden. No outbuildings or barns, definitely no tractors that she can see and a distinct lack of any farm type animals. In fact, no animals at all.

What she does see, is the white top and blue sides of an old style Landrover. Clear and distinct, and big enough to carry all of them. Lilly moves to alert Sam, stopping when she spots the look of agony on the other girls face. She looks pale and drawn, sweating freely but looking cold and shivery at the same time.

‘You okay?’ Lilly asks as she breaks away from holding the boys hands to step closer.

‘Fine,’ Sam whispers, ‘just hurts.’

‘They always this bad?’

‘Yeah like pretty much,’ Sam rolls her eyes, wincing as the next round of cramps hit deep.

‘They might have some painkillers,’ Lilly says softly, ‘you see that car too?’

‘What car? What like that blue thing? Yeah….Dad…they got a car there.’

‘Yes thank you Samantha, Andrew and I can see the vehicle clearly.’

‘Wanker,’ Sam hisses, staring daggers at the back of her dad’s head.

‘What’s his problem?’ Lilly whispers.

‘He’s just a prick,’ Sam shrugs, ‘that’s why mum left him.’ She goes to say something else but stops and rubs her stomach instead. Lilly looks up, staring at the windows of the house as she sweeps her gaze across the front.

Norman stares at the Landrover, cursing the luck of finding a house now and one with a vehicle big enough to carry all of them. This wasn’t what he had in mind. He wanted a night out under the stars, maybe in a forest with lots of trees and deep shadows. Willing himself to keep staring forward and stop glancing back to watch Lilly, his mind goes into overdrive as he tries to think of a way out of it.

‘I don’t like it,’ he announces quickly, even though he hasn’t thought of a plausible excuse not to like it yet.

‘Why?’ Andrew asks coming to a sudden stop thinking that Norman has seen something.

‘Too quiet,’ Norman does the narrow eyed look again, pursing his mouth and staring around, ‘just too damn quiet for my liking.’

‘Oh,’ Andrew says in a tone of mild surprise, ‘er…well what did you er…expect?’

‘I don’t know,’ Norman replies, ‘but something just doesn't feel right.’

‘Looks perfectly right to me,’ Lilly cuts in, striding past the two men as she heads towards the house.

‘Lilly,’ Andrew calls out in a low whisper, ‘get back here.’ She keeps going, blindly ignoring the protests of her father.

‘You stay here,’ Norman whispers quickly, ‘I’ll go with her and make sure it’s safe.’

‘You sure?’ Andrew blanches, ‘I don’t mind going you know, she is…er…well my daughter,’ but the words are lost to the back of Norman as he jogs forward to catch up with Lilly.

‘Your very brave,’ Norman says quietly, ‘very brave indeed.’

‘Thanks,’ Lilly mutters keeping her eyes fixed on the windows and front door.

‘I think this is going to be down to you and I Lilly.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Keeping this lot safe, it appears you and I are the two leaders emerging in our little group eh?’

Why is he staring at me and not at the house? Pausing at the gate she takes a final stare from window to window then down to the front door.

‘And for my part, it’s nice to know someone here has my back,’ Norman continues, still oblivious to the dangers of approaching an unknown house, ‘we’ve got to watch out for each other.’

‘Can you hear anything?’ Lilly cuts him off.

‘Hear anything? Er…no well er…no.’

‘Good,’ she moves through the gate and up to the door, one hand gripping the knife handle tucked into the rear of her waistband. Tentatively she tries the door handle, pushing it down slowly as she increases pressure against the door.

‘Locked,’ she reports, stepping back to stare up at the house, ‘I’ll try the back.’

‘We’ll both go,’ Norman scurries after her, giving a quick thumbs up to the waiting group. Following the building line they make their way to the rear garden, Lilly coming to an abrupt stop as it comes into full view.

‘What is it?’ Norman asks in a hurried whisper, ready to flee.

‘Nobody lives here,’ Lilly announces.

‘How on earth do you know that?’

‘There’s a big sign there saying Primrose Holiday cottage.’ She points to the large, wooden sign erected at the rear of the house next a gravel parking area.

Norman stays quiet, cursing himself for not appearing to be the observant one. Instead, now knowing the coast is clear, he boldly steps out to make his way to the rear doors.

Lilly watches him pass the rear ground floor windows without even looking inside them. Sighing, she rushes forward and checks the view inside. Just plain old style pine furniture, the kitchen clean and tidy with no debris or personal effects on display.

‘Locked,’ Norman tuts, stepping back with his hands on his hips. He turns to the nearest window, sizing it up before casting about for a rock to smash the glass.

‘There’ll probably be a key somewhere,’ Lilly suggests, ‘unless the owners meet them here every time guests arrive.’ She shrugs as Norman stares at her with a weird expression on his face.

‘Course,’ he nods, ‘that’s what I was looking for.’ He goes back to his searching, ignoring the bog rock he was heading towards and veering off to check under plant pots. ‘Got it,’ he announces within a few seconds, ‘yep, knew there’d be a key here somewhere…’ he says shoving the long key into the lock opening, ‘that’s what I was saying Lilly, it looks like you and I are the brains of the outfit here, brains and the beauty eh?’ He winks, sending a creeping shiver down her spine.

No law now. No police. No rules. Norman walks straight into the kitchen, his mind completely absorbed with thoughts of Lilly. Going straight to the sink he twists the tap, watching for a second as the pure clean water pummels into the ceramic bowl. A night in the forest. No law. No police to call. No phones, no anything. All he has to do is get Lilly away on her own, maybe under the pretence of talking about how to lead this group. Alone and away from the others. She might even give herself willingly.

‘It’s clear,’ Lilly announces making him jump. Standing over the sink to rinse his head off, he sprays droplets over the floor between them, wondering if he looks macho and tough with wetted hair.

‘Yeah I was just going to do that, er…you get some water and I’ll call the others in.’ He pauses at the sink, rinsing his hands as she gets closer, waiting to see if she will stand close next to him. She doesn't and holds back, feeling extremely uncomfortable and not knowing quite what to do.

‘I’ll get them,’ she walks off quickly with a burning sensation flooding her cheeks. Although she is still young, she is old enough to know, or suspect, what he is thinking.

Opening the front door she waves and steps outside, making out like she’s waiting for the rest before going back in.

‘Everything okay?’ Andrew asks.

‘Holiday cottage, nobody here,’ she replies moving forward to lead the boys into the cooler kitchen. At the sink she finds glasses and gets the boys drinking while soaking a cloth to rinse their hands and necks with cold water. Both of them look far too red and flushed and shouldn’t be out in this heat anymore.

‘Dad, can you look for some painkillers,’ Lilly asks earning a horrified look from Samantha, ‘I’ve got a headache,’ she adds.

Giving her a thankful smile, Samantha waits her turn for the sink, leaning over the boys to fill a glass with water.

‘All clear,’ Norman announces walking into the room, ‘all the rooms have been checked, we’re safe for now.’

I just did that! Lilly carries on washing the boys and bites down the urge to say something. With their bags dropped, she gets the boys onto chairs at the table, urging them to drink more water. Turning back to the sink she notices the knife handle poking out of the top of Norman’s waistband, the same style of knife she has. He spots her looking and winks, once and quickly. Oh, shoot. It looked like she was just looking at his bum.

‘Here,’ Andrew pulls a packet from a cupboard, ‘er…ibuprofen? They any good?’

‘Perfect, thanks Dad,’ Lilly makes a point of popping two from the blister pack before handing them to Samantha, asking her to look after them.

‘Any food?’ Lilly asks.

‘Pasta, rice…just dried stuff,’ Andrew replies leaning into another cupboard to sort through various packets.

‘That’s good,’ Lilly responds remembering her mother saying how pasta and rice were full of carbohydrates, ‘can we cook them?’

‘Electric hob I’m afraid,’ Norman announces sadly, ‘no good.’

‘We can build a fire outside and heat water,’ Lilly suggests.

‘Good idea! Well done Lilly,’ Andrew grins.

‘Er, I thought of that but er…smoke! Yes the smoke will be seen for miles…’ Norman nods quickly, ‘we couldn’t cook it here,’ his mind racing as it struggles to adapt the new circumstances, ‘but…we could take the pasta and rice with us and wait until we’re somewhere er….discrete and then light a fire…how about that?’

‘Do you think we need to do that Norman?’ Andrew asks, ‘I mean, we’re pretty far from anywhere here and if the wood is dry then the smoke should be clear…they might even have a barbeque or something.’

‘Too risky,’ Norman shakes his head, ‘we’ve got to think of the boys here Andrew, and the girls too,’ he nods at Lilly, not noticing that his own daughter left the room a few minutes ago, ‘we don’t know who those people are going around murdering old ladies.’

‘Hey!’ Lilly winces nodding towards the boys sat just feet away.

‘Sorry Lilly,’ Norman holds one hand up showing he is willing to be chastised, ‘you’re absolutely right, yes so er…I don’t think it’s a good idea to have a fire here. We’ll be fine outdoors in this weather and far safer too.’

‘What do you think Lilly?’ Andrew asks.

‘I think we should take that old car and get away,’ she replies, ‘get to the fort where we’ll be safe. Have a look for the keys.’

‘Great plan,’ Norman nods, ‘yes…the keys…they must be here somewhere. Come on boys, you going to help us find the keys eh?’

‘No you stay there and rest,’ Lilly cuts in quickly. Their faces were still flushed and Billy hadn’t drunk much water. The search begins in earnest, drawers and cupboards opened and rooted through. Samantha comes back, nodding thanks again at Lilly as she joins in. All of them moving through the rooms looking for the vehicle keys. They find plenty of old keys but not car keys. Even outside and under flower pots, checking the wheel arches of the locked Landrover and all the other hidey holes but all to no avail.

‘Shame,’ Norman shakes his head ruefully, staring at the Landrover as though he so wished they had the keys. The keys which were safely in his pocket having been nabbed quickly from the hook in the hallway before anyone spotted them.

‘Nothing we can do about it,’ Andrew sighs, ‘this place would be perfect to spend the night though.’

‘Very true Andrew, if it wasn’t for the er…other situation we would be making camp here but alas, just not to be.’

‘No, no I guess not.’

‘In fact I would advise we move off as soon as possible,’ Norman lowers his voice to a conspiring whisper, affecting the narrowed eye man to man look, ‘I know you agree Andrew and are just as keen as I am to protect our group.’

‘Yes, yes of course.’

‘You and I share a great burden Andrew, looking out for these souls, our children…we must do everything we can to protect them.’

‘Goes without saying,’ Andrew nods.

‘Whatever it takes Andrew, I know I can trust my children with you and I can only hope you feel the same.’

‘Of course Norman, you know, we only just met but er, well I think you can get a vibe from someone straight away and I certainly feel an element of trust with you.’

‘Good,’ Norman nods, ‘down to us then.’

Hustling the small group, Norman urges and harries them to make ready. He leads them out of the house while exchanging knowing nods and winks with Andrew and Lilly. Andrew rises to the sense of sharing the load with a strong character, at being seen as an equal alpha, ready to lead and take command. Lilly on the other hand, feels an increasing discomfort around Norman and works hard to retain a neutral expression and avoid eye contact.

Out of the holiday cottage and into the fields they go.

Norman leads them deeper into the countryside, using unmade tracks and narrow lanes to thread a route further into the rural pastures. All the time he scans ahead for the perfect spot.

By late afternoon it comes into view. A wooded copse nestled into a small valley between meadows of long grass. At first it looks too small, but the closer they get, the more he realises it stretches away, becoming less of a copse and more of a woods.

Big trees with thick trunks and dense foliage provide cover, whilst low bushes dotted amongst them restrict the view and deaden any sound. By night it will be dark in there, dark with plenty of hollows and dips.

Without mentioning anything for fear of Lilly or Andrew objecting, he leads the group towards it. Samantha wouldn’t say anything. He loves his daughter but she’s not blessed with deep intelligence. Neither is Andrew either, too meek and willing to be led. Lilly though, she’s a strong girl with a strong character. Another few years will see her blossom into a very capable young woman.

Norman’s imagination serves to impose a warped image of himself being a rugged survivalist. He has a short beard with a hard far-away look in his eyes, lean muscles and defined stomach. He stands outside a wooden shack, dressed in furs and holding a spear while a scantily clad Lilly stands behind him, still trembling from the emotion of their love making.

His own children don’t factor in the daydream. Maybe they have been packed off to live in the fort with Andrew and Billy, leaving a love struck Lilly to serve her master in isolation.

Turning round he smiles at her, noticing the shy way she looks down at the ground. Bless her, she doesn't want the others to know of their special relationship. But who can blame her? They only a met a few hours ago but true love is like that. It doesn't care about time or age and anyway, the times have all changed. This isn’t about dating and getting to know someone. This is a new world with new rules where the strong get the best girls, and by god, Lilly surely is one of the best girls he has seen in a long time.

A wave of revulsion passes through Lilly at the sly grin he throws her way. He is creepy and dirty with lank brown hair that clings to his scalp. His thin limbs remind her of twigs, and his soft belly strains against his shirt. She looks down, determined not to show him any attention as she struggles to hide her revulsion.

In a funny kind of way she agreed with him, that staying at the cottage would be a bad idea. It looked lovely now in the daytime but come night it would be pitch black and any light they use will be easily seen from miles around.

No, until they can find a car they are better off away from anyone else. Weird about there not being any car keys at that house. The thought that Norman might have taken them did flit through her mind but was just as quickly disregarded.

Why would he do that?

Nineteen

‘What’s up there?’

‘How the hell would I know?’

‘You’re from around here, ain’t ya?’

‘Nope, not really…few miles away. No sign of ‘em anywhere else so let’s  give it a go.’

‘There’s a sign there, what’s it say?’

‘Why? Can’t you fucking read?’

‘It’s slanted towards you, I can’t fucking see it.’

‘Tilted not fucking slanted…’

‘Fuck off, it’s slanted…tilted is when it like, hangs facing down and shit.’

‘Is it bollocks.’

‘What does the fucking sign say?’

‘Oh, er...holiday cottage, primrose holiday cottage.’

‘Oh, right…worth a look I suppose.’

‘It’s on our patch and the doc will be pleased we found it.’

‘He’ll be even more pleased if we find those fuckers that been snooping through our houses.’

‘Well, they ain’t technically our houses are they.’

‘They’s on our fucking manor, ain’t they?’

‘Yeah yeah fair enough, ‘ere watch out!’

‘Sorry, didn’t see it, fucking pot holes everywhere.’

‘Break my spine in half if you keep driving into ‘em.’

‘Well it’s getting fucking dark and I can’t see anything.’

‘Use the lights then, no…actually don’t use the lights.’

‘You reckon?’

‘Alright you sarcastic twat, aye up there it is. Landrover outside, might be someone at home.’

‘Might be, fuck ‘em.’

‘Ha! Yeah, all the lights are off though.’

‘Move quick, go straight for the door.’

‘I’m on it. Back door is closest, I’ll go for that.’

‘Right behind you.’

‘It’s unlocked.’

‘I can see that for myself.’

‘Hello? Anyone home?’

‘Avon calling!’

‘Avon, ha! Nice one…’

‘You like that one?’

‘Yeah. My old dear always had Avon.’

‘They still about, well not now obviously, but you know what I mean.’

‘Think so, dunno really…guess no one here though.’

‘Powers off, you got your torch?’

‘Yeah hang on, hello! Someone’s been thirsty.’

‘Six glasses used, still wet too.’

‘They must be sticking to the fields then, avoiding the roads.’

‘I reckon you could be right.’

‘Can’t be that far away, they ain’t gone down that lane so there must be another way.’

‘Footpath or something? Let’s have a look.’

‘Hold on then, wait up…aren’t we checking for food first?’

‘Nah, we got loads. Doc’ll be chuffed to bits if we get track ‘em down.’

‘Fair enough mate, is that a footpath sign there?’

‘Bloody hell, you’re a clever one aren’t you?’

‘And you’re a sarcastic fucker.’

‘Yeah, footpath. Must have gone that way.’

‘No doubt, come on then.’

‘Oh this is gonna be fun, I can feel it. You reckon there might be girls with ‘em?’

‘Might be with a bit of luck. You got the shotgun shells this time?’

‘Yes smart arse, I have the fucking shotgun shells.’

‘Just checking…’

Twenty

‘Something isn’t right, Clarence and Nick should be back by now and where is Mr Howie and Dave? This isn’t right, I’m telling you…’ Blowers shakes his head, ‘we’ve been here for a couple of hours now, we can’t just keep waiting.’

‘We can’t just leave either,’ Lani cuts in, ‘they’ll turn up as soon as we leave, then they’ll be here for ages looking for us.’

‘Mr Howie and Dave though,’ Blowers continues, ‘Maddox’s lot are all coming back here,’ he says with a nod to the group of youths gathered nearby, their numbers continually growing as they drift back from wherever they sought refuge after running off. ‘If they can make it back here then the boss and Dave should have too.’

‘I agree,’ Lani says quickly, ‘I really do but what else can we do? Clarence and Nick will know we’ll wait here, Howie and Dave too.’ She shrugs and looks down, thinking frantically of what to do next.

‘Me and Blowers will go look for them, you stay here and wait for Clarence and Nick,’ Cookey suggests.

‘We should stay together.’

‘I get that Lani, but what if they’re surrounded or something?’ Cookey asks.

‘Dave? Surrounded? Behave,’ Blowers scoffs, ‘nah it won’t be anything like that. Something must have happened if they’re not here. Maybe the boss is sick or something, we all know that Dave would never leave him.’

‘He could be injured and hurt,’ Lani bites her bottom lip, ‘if they hurt him last night and Dave got him out…’

‘So we should go look,’ Cookey urges, ‘you stay here with this lot.’

‘Take Meredith then.’

‘Meredith? Why?’

‘She found you in that house, didn’t she.’

‘Not a bad idea, but that leaves you here alone,’ Blowers cuts in.

‘Well, I’m not exactly alone am I,’ she peers round at the children standing in the one area next to the car park not covered in bodies.

‘Yeah, well…maybe you should keep the dog,’ Blowers suggests tactfully.

‘Or maybe I go looking for them with the dog, and you two stay here,’ she retorts with a flash of temper.

‘Alright, take it easy we’ll go…’ Cookey mutters softly.

Sighing deeply, Lani massages her forehead and takes a deep breath. ‘Sorry, it’s so hot and I’m worried sick now.’

‘We’ll find them, just stay here until we get back,’ Blowers urges.

‘Er, maybe we should like set a time limit or something. Like, stay here and if we’re not back by whatever time then make for the fort. Just a suggestion,’ Cookey looks to both of them.

‘Okay, what about five then? That gives you several hours to find them and get back. If Clarence and Nick get here, they can either hang on or do a run back to the fort while I wait.’

Frowning and with pursed lips, Blowers stares first at the ground, then up at Lani. ‘No,’ shaking his head firmly as he changes his mind. ‘Mr Howie would want us to stay together, there must be a reason they haven’t got back to us. We have to just stay here and wait.’

‘Blowers we just agreed…’ Lani mutters.

‘No, no it’s not the right thing,’ he replies, ‘Cookey, he’d want us to stay together, we’re weaker when we’re apart. Dave is with him and Dave can handle anything…’

‘See your point,’ Cookey rolls his eyes with frustration, ‘maybe…yeah maybe your right.’

‘I am right,’ Blowers continues, ‘we stay together. When Clarence and Nick get back we can send this lot off and search together, but we have to stay together.’

‘Okay,’ Lani nods slowly, fighting to urge to do something, to do anything other than just stand here surrounded by corpses and the acrid stench of the blazing high street. A desolate scene of carnage that saps any positive energy they have. But Blowers is right. Howie has always been adamant about staying together, and to separate again now goes against everything they have evolved to be. ‘Okay,’ she repeats, more for herself than the others.

‘They’ll be okay,’ Blowers says softly.

‘They will,’ Cookey agrees, moving one hand out to touch her shoulder, ‘like Blowers said, Dave can handle anything and the boss is fucking indestructible.’

Twenty One

How far can a little girl run?

Turns out it’s bloody far. Very bloody far. She’s like a Duracell bunny, just going on and on. The heat and constant running has me drained, sweating and gasping for air. Even Dave has broken out into a sweat, albeit a light one, but there is still moisture on his brow.

‘Where?’ Gasping the word out, I round the corner to see Dave standing there looking left and right. I know what the answer will be and I’m already regretting asking it.

‘Lost her.’

‘Again!? Fucking hell Dave, she’s running rings round us. I thought you were Special Forces and trained to…’

‘She’s got skills,’ he interrupts me.

‘Skills?’ Bent over with my hands on my knees I glance up at him, wondering how a little girl can have Special Forces skills.

‘Not taking a straight path, but weaving left and right. It makes her much harder to track. Plus she’s using her small stature to her advantage by going through obstacles that pose problems to us.’

‘Oh right yeah, that’s the new commando training they’re doing in pre-school these days, I read about it in the paper.’

‘Really?’

‘No Dave, how the hell is a little girl going to know all that stuff?’

‘Natural instinct,’ he shrugs.

‘Natural instinct? Jesus, she’s only what seven or eight…imagine her grown up. She’ll be like you. God help us.’

He stares at me, clearly unsure how to respond. ‘I meant that nicely,’ I add quickly.

‘Okay,’ the calm look reappears instantly.

‘MILLY,’ he bellows without warning me first, causing my heart to thud faster than the GPMG, ‘GET SOME WATER, WE’LL WAIT HERE FOR A MINUTE…DRINK SOME WATER.’

‘What the fuck?’

‘It’s hot Mr Howie, she could dehydrate.’

‘Yeah but…it’s just…okay, no good idea…fair enough.’

‘Up there,’ he points to the small figure stepping out of a driveway much further up the street, clearly visible holding a glass which she lifts to her mouth.

‘Do we get a water break too?’

‘No Mr Howie, she’ll be off again in a minute.’

‘Have you got any?’

‘What?’

‘Fuck Dave, have you got any water?’

‘No Mr Howie.’

‘Bollocks, yeah you drink that nice cold glass of water you little shi…’

‘Mr Howie!’

‘What?’

‘You can’t call a little girl a little shit.’

‘Sorry Dave,’ I blush with the shame of being told off, ‘hang on a minute, you were going to shoot those kids in Portsmouth…’

‘Yeah but…’

‘And when we met Maddox! You wanted to get out the van and attack them.’

‘Yeah but I wouldn’t call a girl a little shit.’

‘Oh so it’s fine to slaughter them willy nilly but we can’t call them little shits?’

‘Well…’

‘Fucking hang on,’ I say, standing up to rest my hands on my hips, the axe and assault rifle on the floor next to my feet, ‘you’re always shouting stuff, I AM DAVE…I WILL KILL YOU,’ I mimic his voice, he goes to speak but I keep going, ‘I WILL BURN YOUR HOUSE DOWN AND MURDER YOUR GOLDFISH…’

‘That is different Mr Howie,’ he says pointedly, ‘that is a tactic designed to induce fear and thereby cause the enemy to make mistakes which I can then use to my advantage…’

‘Oh that’s what it is,’ I ask with a raised eyebrow.

‘And I never said I would murder a goldfish.’

‘I was joking Dave.’

‘Dogs, Cats and I’ve done a ferret but not a…’

‘What?’

‘What?’

‘A ferret?’

‘What about it?’

‘Dave, did you just say you murdered a ferret?’

‘No, I said I threatened to murder a ferret.’

‘Oh right, why? Why would you threaten to murder a ferret?’

‘The man I was after loved his ferret,’ he shrugs.

‘Not his wife or…mum or brother…’

‘Oh I tried those, he didn’t react so I went for the ferret.’

‘Did it work?’

‘Straight away,’ he nods eagerly, ‘he rolled over instantly.’

‘What? The ferret rolled over?’

‘No, the man rolled over.’

‘Why would he roll over? Was he doing tricks?’

‘It means he gave us the information we wanted.’

‘So he didn’t actually roll over?’

‘No Mr Howie.’

‘Did the ferret roll over?’

‘I didn’t ever see it roll over. Maybe it could have done, I couldn’t say it had never rolled over.’

‘So what happened?’

‘To who?’

‘The man! What happened to the man?’

‘Nothing, we let him go.’

‘The ferret?’

‘We gave it back, we weren’t heartless animals Mr Howie.’

‘No mate, clearly not. Bloody hell, she’s taking her time with that water.’

‘Probably thirsty Mr Howie.’

‘Yeah I know Dave I was…oh never mind…what she waving at?’

‘Us I think.’

I wave back, extending my arm high to sweep it back and forth. This is surreal, like a giant game of hide and seek.

‘Milly?’ I call out, ‘can we stop now please? We’re both knackered.’ She doesn't respond to my pleas but walks slowly back towards the house she came out off. Cursing, swearing, muttering foul oaths we start jogging again. Determined to try and catch her again.

‘Morals Dave, that’s what it comes down to.’

‘What does?’

‘This, chasing her… we could just sod off and leave her but we won’t because we have morals.’

‘Oh,’ he replies like he knows what I’m talking about.

‘We’d never forgive ourselves if we just gave up now.’

‘Okay Mr Howie.’

‘I mean she’s tiny. I can see how she’s survived this long running like that, but she can’t stay here.’

‘Okay Mr Howie.’

‘Bloody hell, look at that,’ we stop dead at the garden gate leading to the house she ran inside. There, on the doorstep are two big glasses of water. She obviously struggled to carry them as half the contents have sloshed over the ground. Dave goes forward, grabbing them both to sniff and taste before he hands one to me.

‘What was that?’ I ask him, ‘you checking for poison?’

‘You never know.’

‘By a little girl? Where she going to get poison from? Or know what poison is…maybe she did the poisoning assassination course with the commando training.’

‘Very funny Mr Howie.’

‘Thanks Dave.’ We down the water in a couple of thirsty gulps before proceeding inside and heading straight to the kitchen sink for more water. Both of us deciding to forget the chase for a second and grab more fluids.

‘Thank you Milly,’ I call out, ‘very nice water, thank you very much.’

‘THANK YOU,’ Dave roars scaring the shit out of me again and making me spray water over the kitchen window. How he makes the words thank-you sound like I want to kill you is beyond me.

‘Back?’ I ask, nodding at the open back door.

‘Yes,’ he replies and I swear there is a glint in his eye. If I didn’t know better I would start to think he was enjoying this.

Twenty Two

Blowers, Cookey and Lani wait at the car park, fretting and worried.

Howie and Dave chase a little girl through the sun parched streets in a desperate attempt to get her somewhere safe.

Clarence seeks a van, something big enough to carry all the kit from the broken down Saxon and still be used to ferry the remaining children and team from the burning town.

Maddox, Paula and Roy remain outside the fort, locked out with no response from those inside.

One member of the team remains blissfully asleep. Flat on his back in a king size double bed, snoring peacefully. The increasing heat of the morning raises the temperature in the room. Sweat trickles down the side of his face to soak into the pillow.

Alone, and unaware that his team think he is with Clarence, Nick murmurs quietly in his sleep.

His brain works to process and store the images of the previous day. It takes those memories and files them into the relevant cranial departments. As each one is examined, the image flits into Nick’s dreams. The process is fast. Each memory is sorted in terms of meaning, emotion, smell, sight, hearing and understanding. The work is done far faster than any computer could do.

The brain uses this time to repair, to stimulate growth of cells and work to enhance the neural pathways. The muscles absorb rich oxygenated blood to repair damaged tissue. Ligaments and tendons are probed and assessed by teams of invisible micro biotic workers that swarm to do the best they can before he wakes up. And like any workers on any building site, they do the best they can with what they have been given.

Without nutrition they can only repair so far. Without fuel, energy, carbohydrates, proteins and fats they are forced to work smarter and make what little they have last longer. Thankfully, the body was able to take plenty of water on board before it went into repair mode. What they don’t have provided for them, the workers use the vital supplies of water given to them to construct temporary measures. It isn’t perfect but it’ll do for now.

Messages are sent to the brain, telling it that the requirement for supplies is dire. If the brain wants the body to function then it must have more supplies.

The brain acknowledges the request and prepares a signal, getting ready to deploy it when the body wakes up from repair mode. The signal will be one of hunger, it will tell the body it is hungry which will invoke a reaction to make it find food, and thereby replenish the supplies the worker teams are so desperate for.

Nick sleeps peacefully. Snoring, farting and murmuring. He is young and strong but even the youngest and strongest need time to heal.

So he sleeps on. Oblivious to anything apart from the images being rushed through his mind on their way to being filed.

Twenty Three

The day is oppressive and gloomy but thankfully a couple of degrees cooler. Looking up at the canopy overhead, Lilly shudders from the sensation of the trees pressing in. They are surrounded by thick trunks, their leaves spreading out to form a dense canopy overhead. The ground is barren from the lack of sunlight apart from a few hardy looking bushes scattered around.

It’s still unbearably hot and sticky but at least here there is shade. The canopy masks the smell of the wood smoke too.

‘No, didn’t work,’ Andrew sighs, ‘we’ll just have to hold the handle and keep the pot over the flames.’

‘Dad, it takes fifteen minutes to cook pasta,’ Lilly moves towards the fire burning on the ground. They made it out of the dead wood they found strewn about and quickly managed to build a decent sized blaze over which to cook their pasta. Several attempts have been made by Andrew and Norman to fashion something to hold the pan in place, all of which have failed dismally.

The first one was made from sticks and twigs, neither of them making the connection that putting a wood made cradle over a fire wouldn’t work that well. Then they tried using stones but they just served to cut the air flow out from the fire which in turn reduced the flames to the extent they would never heat the water in the pan.

‘Well there really isn’t any choice,’ Andrew replies.

‘We can just take turns to hold the handle,’ Norman adds, ‘use some cloth or something to grip it…’

Lilly nods, watching the two inept men convince themselves they are equipped with the necessary skills to do this kind of thing. Frowning with concentration, she stares at the flames flickering up. Wood burns so that’s straight out. The pan is metal, metal doesn't burn. No, some metal will burn but it has to be really hot.

They need metal to make a cradle to rest the pot on. But they’re in the forest, which doesn't exactly have lots of metal lying about. Maybe a wire fence? That might do it but there haven’t been any fences for a few miles.

Do they have any metal? She heads over to the bags, examining each of them in turn. Norman’s rucksack is larger than the others and rigid too. Feeling along the back and seams she finds something hard contained within the material. A frame used to distribute the weight of the bag evenly.

Without thinking she opens the top of the bag to try and find a way to get to the frame, not for a second realising she is effectively rummaging through Norman’s bag. Slowly, she becomes aware of the silence in the group as all the chat stops. Three pairs of eyes turn to stare at her as Norman, Andrew and Sam all notice what she’s doing.

‘Sorry,’ she blurts, ‘I was looking at the frame…it’s metal…for the saucepan…’ feeling her face blushing she stands there holding the open bag, ‘I wasn’t going through your bag.’

‘Good idea!’ Norman bursts up, quickly taking the bag from her. ‘There’s a metal frame in the bag, well done Lilly,’ he beams and winks again, and this time she doesn't feel revolted but thankful that he isn’t offended at her going through his private belongings. Smiling back, she notices he cocks his head to one side with a weird look on his face.

‘Will it work?’ Andrew steps closer, lifting the bottom of the bag up to feel the stiff rods within the material.

‘It’s stitched in,’ Andrew reports.

‘Here, try this,’ Norman passes him the knife pilfered from the holiday cottage. Together the two men butcher the rucksack, slicing through the material with long gashes that makes Lilly bite her lip at the clumsy ham fisted way they do it.

The frame is pulled out, two long metal rods held out in victory by Andrew. He grabs one at both ends and tries bending it, his weak arms struggling to hold the thing still while he exerts force.

Going even redder in the face he grunts and strains, barely bending the bar. Giving up with a shake of his head he looks over at Norman trying the same with the other one and also failing dismally.

‘Stiff little buggers,’ Norman grunts, feeling a loss of pride at being unable to bend the bar in front of Lilly.

Use your feet. Use your bloody feet. Lilly wills, reluctant to keep making suggestions that only serve to show the inadequacies of her father.

‘Here, you grab one end Andre and I’ll try this one…’ Together they start pushing and pulling. Uncoordinated and working more against each other, they stagger and trip round the little hollow as the thin rod refuses to be bent.

Lilly looks down at the ground, simply staggered at how two grown men can be so incompetent. She loves her father deeply and know how intelligent and caring he is. He may not be the strongest or the biggest man but he loves his family and tries hard despite his own failings.

A yelp lifts her head up to see Andrew rubbing his arm where the rod slipped out from his grip to whack him across the elbow.

‘Not going to work,’ Norman tuts, ‘what a bloody shame.’

‘Er…maybe you could use your feet or something,’ Lilly finally suggests, ‘er, use leverage to er gain more force?’

A look of annoyance flashes across Norman’s face. Andrew, looking at his elbow misses it, Samantha, staring at Lilly misses it too. Lilly doesn't. She clocks the expression and gets that overwhelming feeling of being distinctly uncomfortable again.

‘Good idea again Lilly,’ Norman smiles, but this time the smile is forced and doesn’t reach his eyes. ‘I say Andrew, your daughter really is a switched on little thing, isn’t she.’

Little thing? Patronising bastard. Right there, at that point, Lilly comes to the rapid conclusion that she does not like Norman. That he is slimy and weird, lecherous and emits a foul, pervy signal that sets alarms off in her head.

Placing one foot in the middle of the bar, Norman heaves on one end, grunting and straining again as he pulls his own foot off the ground.

‘Stand on one end,’ Lilly instructs.

‘I’m sure Norman knows what he is doing,’ Andrew is quick to say at the tone from his daughter.

‘No,’ Norman grunts, ‘it’s fine…another good idea,’ sliding his foot down the pole he grips and starts to heave again.

‘And brace the end against a tree,’ Lilly adds in a strong voice that snaps Norman’s head up to glare at her.

‘Lilly, that is quite enough,’ Andrew harries back and forth.

‘Well it’s obvious,’ Lilly huffs, ‘brace one end, stand on it and pull the other end up…’

‘Lilly!’ Andrew snaps.

‘Or,’ Lilly continues in full flow now, ‘just build the rocks up either side of the fire and rest the unbent bars across the top to put the pan on…saves bending them.’

Norman freezes, bent over with his face going red from the downward slant of his body and the flush of anger coupled with embarrassment. Samantha stares with an open mouth in awe at the other girl standing her ground proudly. Andrew goes into mild panic, fretting to and fro while ringing his hands.

‘Right,’ Norman says slowly, standing up to wipe his hands together as though removing dirt from them, ‘why don’t you show us Lilly.’

Lilly ignores his barbed tone as she gathers the previously used rocks to build two sturdy platforms either side of the fire. Going back to the rods she walks past Norman without a glance, grabs both and heads back to make minor adjustments. Within minutes the bars are wedged between rocks, providing a stable platform for the saucepan now resting on top over the flames.

Standing back she looks down at her work, then up at her father. His face is devoid of expression, but the atmosphere in the camp is now sliding rapidly downhill. Moving her gaze, she observes Norman and the baleful look on his face, one that is mixed with disgust and contempt at being shown up so easily.

‘It works,’ she shrugs and turns away, busying herself with cooking the pasta.

‘The water isn’t boiling,’ Norman comments acidly.

‘Doesn't need to be boiling,’ Lilly replies instantly, ‘Mum said the consumption method words just as well, the pasta cooks as the water heats.’

‘Lilly, I think you tone is rude,’ Andrew complains.

‘No it’s okay Andrew, she’s a growing lady and it’s only to be expected,’ Norman sneers.

‘What was that?’ Samantha edges closer to Lilly.

‘The consumption method, it means the water doesn't have to be boiling to start cooking.’

‘Wow, how did you know that?’

‘Mum told me, and then showed me the packet that it was written on,’ Lilly adds with a smile.

‘I er, I got some sauce from that house,’ Samantha says quietly, ‘just like, you know, some ketchup but I thought it would like, be nice for the boys instead of er, you know, plain pasta.’

‘That’s brill,’ Lilly grins, ‘hear that boys, you got yummy ketchup flavoured pasta for dinner.’

‘Are we sleeping here?’ Billy asks glancing up at the trees.

‘Yes Billy,’ Andrew answers, ‘just for tonight. Thought we’d camp outside for fun.’

‘I don’t like it,’ Billy carries on staring at the trees, ‘can’t we go home now?’

‘Not now Billy, we’re going to a big place with lots of other people,’ Lilly explains.

‘On the topic of camping,’ Norman seizes the opportunity, ‘I suggest we take watches during the night, two at a time so we keep each other awake.’

‘You think that’s necessary?’ Andrew asks mildly.

‘Oh definitely,’ Norman says in a deep voice, ‘we’ve got to stay alert…and it’s a good opportunity to get to know each other too, you know, have a chat and things.’

‘Hmmm, yes I can see the merits of that,’ Andrew nods amiably, ‘it would give us a chance to bond.’

Lilly focuses on the saucepan, knowing what’s coming next. ‘Maybe,’ she cuts in first, ‘Sam and I can take the first watch then.’

‘Great!’ Sam grins broadly, ‘yeah Lilly and me will do it.’

‘Lilly and I,’ Norman corrects, ‘and no Samantha, we need one adult awake at all times.’

‘We’re fifteen Dad,’ Sam whines, ‘we can stay awake the same as you.’

‘Decision made Sam, one of us men will be awake at all times and it will be a good time for you to get to know Andrew.’

‘Me?’ Andrew asks.

‘Well yes Andrew. Sam’s my daughter so I know her very well, but I hardly know Lilly or Billy so it will be a good opportunity for us all to get to know each other.’

‘I can’t see Billy staying awake very long,’ Andrew chuckles.

‘Be that as it may, I would be honoured if you would take this time to get to know my daughter. God forbid anything should happen to me but if it did…then I would want my children to go with someone they know and are familiar with.’

‘Ah, yes…when you put it like that, yes that does make sense,’ Andrew nods seriously.

Norman nods back and walks away in an effort to hide the look of victory on his face. His own feelings shifted during the last few minutes. Gone were the fantasies of a life spent with Lilly in the wooden shack. Now, after being shown up like that, he felt a strong sexual desire, to dominate and control her. She’s a wild little thing, full of ideas and she needs to be tamed.

The first pan full of pasta is made and carefully drained out, causing Lilly to chastise herself for not bringing a second pan to use to capture the already hot water. Instead they have to re-fill with cold, add more pasta and wait for it come back to the boil.

With ketchup mixed in giving the food a lovely tomato tang the boys get stuck in, using forks to stab at the chunks and shovel into their small mouths.

The two men and two girls watch hungrily as the boys devour the food, licking their lips and getting sticky sauce plastered round their mouths.

‘Dad, you ready?’ Lilly starts draining the next pan.

‘I certainly am!’ Norman says with forced cheerfulness.

‘No girls, you go next, we men can wait a minute for the next lot,’ Andrew cuts in with a loving smile towards his capable daughter.

‘Oh yes of course, that’s what I meant,’ Norman adds quickly.

Sauce is added and the girls tuck in, eating just as fast as the two boys did. The taste is amazing. Just simple pasta with tomato sauce but for hungry bellies emptied from so much walking, it is divine and finished quickly.

‘Look,’ Sam nods at the two boys already nodding off. Lying back on the soft undergrowth of dead leaves their eyes droop and their breathing becomes deeper.

‘Bless,’ Lilly replies quietly. Contentment from eating proper food spreads through her. That and standing up to Norman too. She is sensible and full of common sense, more than her father and Norman and if it means ruffling his feathers to keep the boys and Sam safe then so be it.

Lilly cooks more pasta, setting some aside for the boys in the morning. It might be not the tastiest cold food but it will give them energy for the next day. She and Sam share another pot, then Andrew and Norman get stuck in.

The afternoon draws to evening as the small camp relaxes into quiet chat. Sam and Lilly talk about school and life as they knew it. The men go back to business and how the recession screwed everything up. Shadows grow longer and the yawns become more frequent. Still, with the heat so high, it sucks what little energy they have out from their already exhausted bodies.

Norman wills the sun to go down, wills those shadows to get longer and deeper. It frustrates him having to make polite small talk with this idiot, when he has something much more important on his mind. Allowing himself a glance over at Lilly, he notices the way she stretches out on the ground. The contours of her body and the obvious swelling of her chest.

His own daughter by comparison, still looks wan and thin. Ungainly and very childlike, more like a boy than a girl. The biting anger from earlier subsides, leaving him with the returned fantasy of living in the wooden shack with Lilly. But now she isn’t demure and standing behind his rugged form, she is wild and full of passion, making love with a fiery intensity as she rakes long nails down his back.

‘You alright?’ Andrew chuckles, ‘you look a million miles away.’

‘Eh?’ Startled and worried in case he inadvertently said something out loud, Norman shakes his head and thinks quickly, ‘oh you know, just er…thinking about everything.’

‘Yes,’ Andrew yawns again, the third time in the last few minutes. Come on you old man, go to sleep.

But he doesn't. He seems perfectly content to chat away talking about god knows what that involved god knows who. Norman smiles and nods as his mind drifts back to the fantasy. Must be this heat and the exercise making me all horny, he thinks. Soon I’ll have this belly fat burnt off and should maybe cut my hair too, shave it off so I look tougher. Exercise? Yeah, that’s not a bad idea. I’ll do some push ups and things to make my arms bigger. I’ll need the strength and energy for all the sex too.

‘And so I said you know, we just cannot compete with the Chinese anymore…we realised it was time to pack up but I kept going and well the rest is history…if only I had got out when I had the chance.’

‘Oh yes of course,’ Norman nods, catching the tail end of the long monologue.

‘Well, I think I’m going to drop off any minute and it’s looking very dark now…yes, I would say this is night time…who’s up for the first watch?’

‘You rest old chap,’ Norman says kindly, ‘your bag is heavier than mine so you’ve had more work today. You sleep first and I’ll wake you up in a couple of hours. Hear that Sam? Lilly and I will take first watch so you get some sleep.’

‘You sure Norman?’ Andrew asks with another yawn, ‘feel awful having the first sleep, maybe we should let the girls get some rest and we stay up eh? Carry on with our interesting business chats.’

‘No,’ Norman says too quickly, ‘I mean no, you look beat Andrew and we’re going to need our senses about us tomorrow. Sam looks about done in too, eh Sam? I said you look about done in.’

‘I’m falling asleep now,’ Sam groans. Lilly stares across the dark camp. The small flames flicker illumination at the faces of her father and Norman, contorting their features to make the eye sockets deep and hidden. Norman’s face looks slick with sweat and almost predatory.

Silence descends as first Andrew slips into slumber, audibly snoring as he drifts deeper from exhaustion. Sam is close behind, her soft breathing becoming longer and deeper.

Lilly settles and listens, first focussing on the sounds of the sleeping forms next to her, before tuning into the natural noises from the forest. She can hear animals moving through the undergrowth, a fox far away and distant calling out for her young. With no breeze, the branches don’t creak and nor do the leaves rustle against each other.

Slight crackles and hisses come from the small fire and she becomes painfully aware of Norman sitting across the camp and staring right at her.

‘You okay?’ He whispers in a low hoarse voice.

‘Fine,’ she nods then realises he won’t see the nod. ‘Yeah I’m fine er…you can sleep if you want Norman, I’m happy to stay awake.’

Hearing his name said by her sends a thrill through him, a tingle into his groin that makes his heart beat a bit harder. ‘No, I’m fine too….never did need much sleep,’ he whispers softly, aware his voice is becoming slightly deeper as the lust builds.

Silence again. Awkward and sustained. Lilly shifts position and stifles a yawn. She thought the forest would scare her but strangely it doesn't. Actually, in self-reflection she doesn't feel that scared at all. Having Billy and now Todd to think about pushes the fear away.

‘Hear that?’ Norman whispers urgently, snapping her from the deep thoughts.

‘No, what?’

‘Something…not sure…’ he gets up slowly and carefully, the soft light reflecting on his form as he stands listening intently. ‘Thought I heard someone moving about.’

‘Really?’ Lilly is on her feet, ‘we should wake everyone up.’

‘No!’ Norman whispers, ‘not yet, don’t scare everyone. It might be an animal or er…a deer or something, maybe a badger…’

‘We can’t take the risk,’ Lilly urges.

This isn’t the plan. Not the plan at all. Norman carries on pretending to listen while he thinks frantically, ‘I’ll go look,’ he says eventually, ‘yeah…you stay here and I’ll have a quick walk about.’

‘I’ll wake Dad up.’

‘No don’t, not yet…it’s probably nothing and it’s not worth disturbing him unless necessary, just wait here for a minute.’

Unsure and thinking they really should be waking the others up, Lilly concedes and pauses. Holding still whilst listening to Norman quietly slip out of sight into the undergrowth, she tracks his movements, suddenly aware of just how quietly he is moving.

Minutes pass as she stands completely still, craning her head round to listen and focus on the noises. One hand gripping the handle of the knife held ready.

‘Lilly,’ Norman’s voice comes softly through the undergrowth, ‘come here.’

‘Why?’

‘You’ve got to see this.’

‘What? See what?’

‘Ssshhh, don’t wake the others, come and look.’

‘Look at what?’

‘Er…some lights but er…in the distance like far away.’

‘Lights? What kind of lights?’

‘I don’t know. Come and look, but stay quiet.’

‘Okay, wait there,’ she slips into the darkness. She loses her sense of direction within seconds because of the blackness of the forest, ‘where are you?’

‘Over here,’ his voice sounds further away now but she follows the sounds, carefully stepping to avoid tripping over roots.

‘I can’t find you,’ she whispers, wondering what lights he can see. Maybe a commune or some people all together, might be a safe place they could head for tomorrow.

‘Keep coming, you have to go right over here to see them,’ again he sounds further away but she ploughs on, intent on seeing the lights for herself.

‘Norman? I really cannot see a thing.’

‘Just here, down this bank, watch your step it’s quite steep, that’s it…I’m right here.’

With his voice now a lot closer she finds her way to him, some slivers of moonlight finding their way through the trees to offer gloomy indistinct shadows. ‘Just over here,’ he adds, his voice low and hoarse again.

‘How far? We shouldn’t leave the others alone.’

‘I know but I want you to see this.’

‘Maybe we should wait till morning or wake the others up first.’

‘Just have a look first and see what you think.’

‘Where are they?’

‘Just a bit further.’

Following Norman, Lilly starts realising that something isn’t right. They shouldn’t be out here, so far away from the others. The need to say something builds slowly, the need to know what the hell is going on.

‘We have to go back,’ she says finally, proud of the strength in her voice.

‘Lilly, there is something I want to talk about,’ Norman turns quickly, standing too close.

‘What?’ Stepping back, she detects his movement as he moves in closer again.

‘You and I Lilly, I saw the way you were looking at me. Now I know I’m older and you are only fifteen but times have changed suddenly Lilly and…’

‘What!?’

‘Ssshhh, keep your voice down!’

‘I’m going back.’

‘No!’

‘Take your hand off me! Let go…I said let go you’re hurting me…’

‘Lilly, just be quiet and listen for a minute…’

‘Get off me…let go of my wrist now…let go or I’ll scream for my dad.’

‘No, please just listen Lilly, I’ll only take a minute please…’

‘You’re scaring me, please let go…DAAA…’

‘Shut up! Shut up you stupid bitch…’ clamping one hand over her mouth, he stifles the scream before it wakes anyone up. Lilly squirms and bucks against him, fighting to get him off but his grip on her wrist is too strong. In the darkness and the ground littered with organic obstacles they go down, tripping over roots and each other to land in a heap amongst dead leaves.

‘Ssshhh,’ Norman hisses, ‘just shut up…I saw the way you were looking at me…I didn’t mean to scare you but my god Lilly, you are so beautiful…’

Fear grips her stomach. This cannot be happening. She tries to bite his fingers, moving her mouth against his hand. Norman feels the warmth of her lips and tongue against his hand which only serves to drive the lust deeper into his groin.

‘Oh god you’ve got such a hot body,’ Norman gasps, pressing his mouth close to her ear, ‘there’s no way you’re only fifteen…we’ll be together Lilly, just me and you yeah? Would you like that? Just us two living alone in our wooden house…’

Squirming and fighting, she tries to feel for the knife she dropped when they went down to the floor.

‘Oh Lilly, I know you like me, you do like me don’t you? We’d better not say anything to your dad yet…I’ll take my hand away but don’t scream…please just talk for a minute.’

‘Norman,’ Lilly gasps, ‘please get off me…please just stop it…’

‘Lilly, but you like me… I know you do.’

‘No, no I don’t…not like that…’

A loud scream reaches them through the forest. Long and terrified, high pitched and full of pain. Norman freezes, Lilly stiffens as they listen to the drawn out sound.

‘Sam,’ Norman hisses. ‘Oh god…’ On his feet instantly, all thoughts of Lilly gone from his mind as his fatherly instinct finally kicks in, ‘Todd…Sam…’ whimpering he plunders through the bushes, snapping twigs as he powers through the dark forest.

Shocked to the core, Lilly scrabbles up and starts after him. She tries to remember the route they took to get here but the darkness is too intense. Her vision is rendered useless by the lack of light so instead she focuses on following the sounds of Norman as he runs ahead screaming the names of his children in blind panic.

Another scream rips through the foliage, plunging Norman into greater panic. Thrashing his way through low branches, he trips time and again, falling hard onto the ground. He snags his ankles and bruises his hands, face and knees. More screams, unearthly and filled with pain. Male voices shouting now, too far away to be clear.

In his consuming panic, Norman races ahead of Lilly, leaving her to find a route through the blackness of the night. The screams and shouts are her markers to aim for. With the knife still on the ground somewhere, she has no weapons and is utterly defenceless.

Norman bellows for all he is worth at hearing the unmistakable sound of a girl in dire pain, the fear for his children coursing through his veins.

Trying her best to keep up, Lilly listens to the noise ahead, identifying the instant Norman bursts back into the camp from the rise in volume and chaotic noises, shouting, aggressive male voices and someone screaming. It could be Sam or the boys, She can’t tell who.

Forcing her tired body to run faster, she races towards the noise, seeing the light of the fire flickering through the undergrowth and trees. With just metres to go she catches the tip of her foot on an exposed root. The power of her legs driving her forward sustain the momentum as she goes down hard, sprawling into the hard compacted earth.

Winded and stunned, she has no choice but to lie still and wait for the dizziness to pass. Hands and knees bruised but the pain is ignored. Slowly, she lifts her head up to try and see into the clearing.

What she sees freezes her to the spot. She is unable to move or respond. Her heart jumps around erratically as she stops breathing . The sounds come a second later, filtering through to her stunned ears and foggy brain.

Everything has slowed down. Movements are slower than they should be. In shock, she blithely notices the fire has been built up and is now bigger than it was. Flames dance as they cast orange light against the branches. Faces shadowy, then bright, giving the eye sockets a hollow, empty look. The contrast of the brightly coloured rucksacks piled together against the muted colours of the vegetation.

The screams don’t mean anything to her. She is at home watching a movie. The remote control must be here somewhere, she can just switch over and end it.

But this isn’t a movie. This is real.

Norman has run into the camp and gone straight to the man on top of his daughter. Lilly notices the naked backside of the man lifting and thrusting between the pale skinny legs of Sam. Her father on his knees, staring up into the barrels of a shotgun held by another mam, his arms wrapped protectively round the shoulders of the two young boys screaming with fear.

Norman is felled quickly, stunned by the blow of the butt of the shotgun smashing into the side of his skull. Sprawled out on the floor he sluggishly rises, only to slump back down as through drunk.

The man holding the shotgun laughs and shakes his head, prodding the barrels into Andrew’s chest when he squirms in panic. The naked backside keeps rising and thrusting going from gentle, almost loving movements, to a harder, urgent action. Samantha screams and screams but the noise seems to whip the rapist into a frenzy. He has pinned Sam’s wrists to the ground, making it impossible for her to do much more then squirm. The glow from the fire reflects from his demonic face, the twisted features contorting as he thrusts harder and harder, slamming his groin into the girl.

On all fours now, Norman tries crawling to his daughter. Screaming with terror, pleading for the man to stop. Dark blood pours from one ear and he keeps losing his ability to move. His fatherly instinct is the only thing keeping him conscious and moving.

Andrew begs and pleads, wailing as he pulls the boys harder into his chest. Suddenly the noise is overwhelming; a cacophony of voices wailing, screaming, yelling and laughing.

The man on Samantha lifts his hand to grip her chin, squeezing it harder as he thrusts with violent power. He starts hitting her, slapping her across the face with blows that increase in force until he is punching down, driving his clenched fist into her nose. Blood bursts, spraying up as she screams through broken teeth. Like an animal he climaxes at the same time as Sam falls unconscious, pulverising her face to a bloody ragged mess.

Instead of flopping down with the afterglow of climax, he jumps to his feet, standing there and roaring with triumph as his still erect penis stands proud of his body. With arms raised high he whoops and bellows, a guttural primeval noise that echoes through the trees of the forest.

‘CUNT…’ he spits down on the girl, ‘CUNT…CUNT…CUNT…’ He screams the words over and over and spits phlegm onto the bloody, pulped remains of her facial features.

‘You are fucking sick,’ the man holding the shotgun laughs. Like watching his mate flick a bogey.

‘Watch this then,’ the rapist nods, his head bobbing up and down. Possessed, the boundaries of law and civilisation have been ripped away. He can do what he wants. He is powerful, god-like and no one can stop him. Grabbing his semi-erect shaft he grunts and focusses for a second, wriggling his body to get the piss flowing. It spurts out, thick and foul.

It coats her face, the acidic liquid burning the exposed wounds. The action snaps her awake, screaming with pain as he sprays his piss down on her.

Laughing harder, the man with the shotgun has to focus to keep his aim on Andrew, the end of the gun waving back and forth. ‘I take it I ain’t having a go then,’ he shouts.

The man pissing whips his aim off to the side, suddenly aware of what he is doing, ‘oh fuck, sorry mate…shit…I didn’t think of that…I can wash her off if you want?’

‘Fuck off! I’m not going after you, sloppy seconds? No way, keep her mate.’

‘Seriously? Her pussy is alright, bit tight but like, I loosened it up now.’

‘Urgh! Fucking gross mate, really fucking gross.’

‘Suit yourself, you’ll only regret it later,’ the rapist shrugs tugging his trousers up to cinch the flies and belt closed.

‘Sam,’ Norman wails, his voice weak and pitiful, ‘oh Sam….Sam….’

‘That your daughter is it?’ The rapist asks conversationally.

‘Sam…oh my Sam…’

‘Shit father you are,’ the rapist shakes his head, ‘fucking off to take a dump and leaving her alone…that other bloke was asleep,’ he says with indignation, pointing at the sobbing Andrew. ‘What father leaves his kid asleep in the forest with all this going on…shame…fucking shame…’

‘Please…’ Andrew blurts, ‘please just go…’

‘Oh he’s awake now,’ the rapist comments, ‘you didn’t exactly do anything either…now if it was my daughter I would go fucking apeshit. Honestly, you’d have to shoot me to get me to stop. I wouldn’t fucking stop…but you two…crying and begging, tut-fucking-tut..’

‘Oh god Sam…Todd?...’Where’s Todd?’

‘He’s here Norman…please…please just let us go…’

‘Or what?’ The man holding the shotgun says, ‘ain't no piggy snout filth now mate, who you gonna call?’

‘Ghostbusters!’ The rapist shouts.

‘Ha! Fucking love it when you do that…’ere, we ought to like have that as our thing…like that bloke in Pulp Fiction when he does the bible speech at the start…’

‘Oh er…yeah…oh fuck, what was his name? Samuel Jackson?’

‘Yeah him…we do that from now on?’ The man with the shotgun laughs.

‘Yeah alright,’ the rapist giggles, ‘ere, you sure you don’t wanna have a go?’ he nods at Sam squirming quietly on the ground, ‘I’ll give her a rinse out if you want.’

‘Er…’ the man with the shotgun thinks for a second, ‘nah. Nah thanks mate but like, you know…girls that age don’t do it for me…’

‘What you saying?’ The rapist challenges in a hard voice.

‘Nothing, no nothing mate…fuck no I don’t mean that…she’s old enough ain’t she…I just meant I like ‘em a bit older with some like meat on their bones and big old tits…you know, not all scrawny and shit.’

‘Every hole’s a goal,’ the rapist shrugs, placated from the suggestion that he likes young girls.

‘Yeah, you know, fair one mate but…nah I’ll pass…anyway, we better get these two back for the doc.’

‘He’ll be chuffed as fuck,’ the rapist grins.

‘Yeah,’ the shotgun man nods, a dark look crossing his face as he stares down at the two boys being held by Andrew.

‘Oh give over,’ the rapist huffs.

‘What?’

‘Your face, that’s what…’

‘I didn’t say anything,’ the man with the shotgun replies quietly.

‘Didn’t need to, your face says it all…don’t let him see that, the doc won’t like it if he sees you do that…’

‘I didn’t do anything,’ shotgun man protests but his voice is low and muted.

‘I couldn’t give a fuck what you think,’ the rapist shrugs, ‘really don’t bother me…but don’t show the doc, he’ll go fucking nuts…’

‘Fair enough,’ shotgun man nods quietly, his face now devoid of expression, ‘come on, we gotta go… you two, come with me,’ he nods at the boys.

‘Please…no…just go…I’m begging you…don’t hurt them…’

‘We ain't gonna hurt ‘em,’ shotgun man replies, ‘really, we ain't gonna touch hair on their heads…they’ll be safe enough…’

‘Where you taking them?’ Andrew gasps, gripping the boys harder.

‘The doc wants ‘em,’ the man with the shotgun says quickly.

‘Please…just go…’ Andrew begs again, ‘my god, I’m begging you, please just leave us and go…’

‘No can do mate, we’s got orders ain’t we…hand ‘em over now mate, they ain’t gonna get hurt or nothing…’

‘No! No…just leave…please…oh my god please no….’

‘Ere mate, I ain't standing here all night fucking discussing it. Give ‘em here now or I’ll fucking shoot your face off.” He pushes the shotgun into Andrew’s face, leering at him from above.

In desperation Andrew releases Todd, pushing him away as he clutches Billy with both hands. Lilly, watching from the undergrowth clamps her hand over her mouth at the callous action of her father.

‘Take him…Please not Billy….please…’

‘DAD!’ Todd screams.

‘You nasty fucker!’ The rapist shouts, ‘that’s fucking cold that is…’ Striding forward he grabs Todd by the wrist, wrenching him onto his feet before giving him to the man holding the shotgun. ‘What a nasty cunt.’ Shaking his head he marches back to Andrew, punching him hard in the face. ‘Let him go,’ the rapist shouts as both Billy and Andrew scream in terror. ‘I said…fucking let him go…’ The thumps get harder as Andrew takes the blows, refusing to yield his son to the two men.

‘Stubborn cunt…fucking let him go!’ The rapist bursts into violent rage, using both hands to reign blow after blow into Andrew.

Screaming, Andrew pushes Billy away with a hard motion before lunging up at the rapist. Caught by surprise the rapist falls back as Andrew powers into him, roaring with blind fury as he lashes out landing punches and slaps into the rapists face.

‘Ere, fucking get a grip,’ the shotgun man shouts.

Andrew, pumped with rage, presses the attack harder. Lilly catches a glimpse of her father’s face, a mixture of terror and berserk anger twisting his normally mild features. The rapist goes down, unable to fend the blows off and tripping on the uneven surface. Andrew surges in, sensing the opportunity to cause damage. Like the undead they are running from, Andrew clamps his mouth onto the rapist’s cheek, gnashing his teeth as he drives both clenched fists into the side of his head.

The sudden boom of the shotgun is deafening in the small enclosure. The force of the explosion sends Andrew flying off to the side, his head a bloody pulp with half the skull removed, brains and bones mixing with bloody goo down the foliage around them.

Lilly stifles the scream, pushing her own face into the dirt and biting down. Tears sting her eyes, her whole body tensed completely rigid.

‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ the man with the shotgun complains, ‘where did that come from? You alright?’

‘No, I’m not fucking alright…cunt bit my fucking cheek…shit that hurts…’

‘Let’s have a look…oh fuck that’s right through…’ he sucks in a sharp intake of breath, ‘nasty mate…that’ll need stitches.’

‘Cunt…fucking cunt…’ rapist stands up unsteadily, swaying as he clutches his bleeding face. Grabbing a piece of cloth from his pocket, he presses the material to the wound, pushing hard as he stalks over to the boys and grabs a screaming Billy by the hand.

‘Shut the fuck up!’ the rapist bellows, spraying blood over the young boys face.

‘Don’t!’ shotgun man shouts at seeing the rapist raise a hand to strike Billy, ‘Doc’ll go fucking spare if they’re marked…’

Holding his hand above Billy, rapist struggles to bring his temper back under control, ‘yeah but he don’t know we got two does he…we can just take one back and he’ll be happy…’

‘Nah,’ shotgun shakes his head, ‘come on…take the gun and I’ll take the boys.’

‘Fine, you take the fucking brats then…fuck that hurts…CUNT!’ He screams with temper, running over to slam the front of his boot into the mess that was Andrews head.

‘Sam…’ Norman bleats pitifully, swimming in and out of consciousness.

‘What you wanna do with him?’ Shotgun man asks.

‘Fuck him, skulls fucked…he’ll be dead in a bit…’

‘Sure?’ Shotgun man asks, ‘just shoot him now.’

‘Nah fuck him, let him die slow the cunt…his fucking mate bit my cheek didn’t he…’

Without further words the rapist takes the gun as the other man grabs the boys, one big hand gripping one wrist each. Pulling them to their feet they start walking off, leaving the devastated camp behind them and one girl frozen in fear as she hides in the undergrowth.

Twenty Four

The silence is only broken by the ragged death rattle of Norman. Lilly forces herself to get up, pushing with her hands until her feet take her weight and she staggers from the perimeter into the camp.

Standing still and stares at the ruined body of her father. His head unrecognisable from the blast of the shotgun. Norman twitches and murmurs quietly.

From instinct she goes first to Samantha, kneeling down at her side as she takes in the pulped mess of her face. Nose clearly broken and her lips split and torn from being driven into her teeth which are snapped and bloodied. One side of her face has completely caved in.

Bending over she tries to listen for breathing, her own heart pounding with abject terror. No sounds, nothing. She remembers the first aid training the school made them all do and gropes the girl’s bloody neck, feeling for a pulse.

Checking wrists and then finally resting her head on Sam’s bony chest, she is forced to accept that Sam has been beaten to death. The sheer number of overwhelming hard blows caused serious brain injury.

Standing up, she staggers towards Norman then pauses. A small voice permeates her brain, forcing her to listen. The boys have been taken but they’re alive. Those men said they couldn’t hurt them.

Norman is dying. Thick blood oozes from one ear and his breathing comes with ragged gulps. Turning her head, she stares at the direction the two men went then back to Norman.

Quickly she darts forward and scrabbles at Norman’s belt for the knife he had there. Her elbow digs into the top of his thigh and something hard within his pocket. Thinking it might be another useful weapon, she pushes her hand in, grabs the object and pulls it free. A wave of nausea surges through her as she realises it’s the keys to the Landover from the holiday cottage.

Any sense of sadness towards Norman vanishes in that second. They could have loaded up and gone, be far away and safe. This man, this foul, perverted, sick man hid these keys just so he could have a night outside with her. They didn’t need to be here. Her dad, the two boys, Sam…

For a second, she imagines herself plunging the knife into his chest, finishing the job the other men started. Instead she gets to her feet and moves away, heading out of the camp and into the darkness of the forest.

Without a look back, she leaves the scene. Her father is dead. Sam is dead. Norman is dying and her brother and Todd are being dragged terrified by two rapist, murdering men.

Forcing herself to think straight, she creeps after them, knowing that going too slow will run the risk of the men getting too far ahead, but too fast and they’ll hear her.

How did they find them? It cannot be an accident. They must have found the holiday cottage and then followed the footpath. The smell of the fire would have drifted and then all they had to do was wait until dark and find the light of the fire.

The shock is deep and repressed. Her mother is almost certainly dead. Her father is dead. Everyone she knows is probably dead or one of them things. The one remaining person is now being dragged away to some doctor somewhere. Todd too, so both the boys are now the sole reason to keep going. The image of her father launching the attack at the rapist summons a rare feeling of pride towards her father. That he had the courage to go out fighting for his children, and if nothing else, he hurt that man badly. A weak, mild man, beset by problems that hampered his own life and that of his family, but at the last second he really did show he was a man.

The tree line ends suddenly. The darkness eases up as moonlight floods the scene before her. The figures are ahead, moving slowly away. Two big figures gripping two smaller ones. If she can see them, they will be able to see her.

Stay low and be ready to drop. Common sense takes over as she moves off at a crouch. As they navigate the meadows and fields she periodically loses sight of them. She takes the opportunity to get upright and run faster until they once more come into view and she’s forced to go low again.

Get ahead and do something to their car. That is the best plan. Prevent them from driving off and buy time to get the boys back. But in the dark, in a strange place and not knowing the direction they are heading, she has no choice but to follow them. If she deviates she runs the risk of becoming lost and being no use at all.

What about when they drive off? They’ll see her behind them in the Landrover. How can she follow them without being seen?

She could call out and go with them, but after seeing what they did to Samantha, that idea is disregarded very quickly. She’ll be no good at all if she’s dead and the other man said he liked them with more meat on their bones and some tits to grab.

There is no other option but to keep going. So she does. Staying low and hardly daring to breathe, she follows them back to the holiday cottage.

When it comes into view she has no opportunity to get ahead of them, but again has to wait and hold back, taking care not to walk on the dirt track and run the risk of kicking a stone or pebble.

‘You need to wash that cheek,’ shotgun man says.

‘Yeah,’ rapist replies, ‘fucking hurts, you reckon they might have painkillers there?’

‘Where?’

‘At that fucking house!’ Rapist snaps.

‘Might do, worth a look. You wash that cut and I’ll have a look. You boys thirsty? Eh? You want some water?’

Too terrified to reply, the boys get dragged along quietly sobbing. Lilly feels her heart breaking at the sight of Billy and Todd being so close but being unable to do anything to help them. As they near the cottage, torches get switched on and used to find the way to the unlocked back door. The four of them disappear inside.

Lilly takes the chance to run ahead into the small parking area and find their car. She finds a big white van and goes for the driver’s door. Locked. Same with all the doors.

How do you disable a van? She has no idea but runs round the vehicle looking for anything that could be broken or snapped. The walls are sheer sided. The lid to the engine bit is closed and sealed. The underneath wouldn’t mean anything to her. Even the fuel flap is locked.

Tyres! She can puncture the tyres with the knife but then they would know someone had done that. What is the choice? Do nothing and run the risk of losing them.

With a faint grunt she stabs the kitchen knife at one of the tyres, blanching when the blade bounces off to skitter to one side. Retrieving the knife she tries again, amazed at how much force is needed to puncture an almost rigidly inflated tyre. She aims for the top, where the tread is thicker, not knowing to attack the thinner side wall of the tyre.

Eventually, out of sheer frustration she slams the knife at the wheel. Missing the top and hitting the side. The point sinks in, only a small amount but enough for the hiss of air to let her know she’s hit the right spot. Yanking the blade free, she visibly watches as the van sinks a few inches as the air escapes the pressurised tube of the tyre.

‘Where’s this place we going then?’ The rapist asks as they leave the cottage.

‘South somewhere, some old manor house..Chi…no…Chantsworth House? Can’t remember what he said now.’

‘Chapsworth House, that was it.’

‘What the fuck you asking me for if you already know it?’ The man holding the hands of the two boys says coming into view. Lilly scrabbles backwards to the Landrover, dropping down on the far side to stay out of sight.

‘Because,’ the rapist sighs, ‘I fucking forgot didn’t I…what with my face being fucking bitten off and all.’

‘The others’ll already be there, we’re late as it is.’

‘Yeah but he ain’t gonna moan is he, what with us getting these two.’

‘Hope not,’ the man with the boys replies, ‘FUCK IT!’

‘What?’

‘Puncture…look…’

‘Fuck…must have been them potholes, shit… shit…we got a spare?’ Rapist feels at the freshly washed wound to his face, pressing a clean tea towel against it.

‘Yeah underneath, ‘I’ll do it…hold these.’ The rapist takes the boys, using one hand to hold their two tiny wrists while he presses the cloth to the side of his face.

‘He’s gonna get shitty as fuck at how late we are,’ the rapist comments.

‘Yeah I fucking know he will but it isn’t our fault, is it?’ The other man snaps.

‘Not saying it is, but…just saying….that’s all,’ rapist mumbles, wincing at the pain in his face.

Lilly watches the man work, not realising the spare wheel was held there. It only takes the experienced man half an hour to get the damaged wheel off, pushing it aside and fitting the spare one. Grunting with the exertion of tightening the bolts. She wills them to keep speaking, to give her information or details of where they are going. But rapist is too sore to speak and snaps angrily at the boys when they cry too loud, and the other man is pre-occupied changing the wheel.

‘Done,’ he stands back wiping his filthy hands down the front of his jeans.

‘Thank fuck for that,’ rapist mumbles, ‘get in…go on…get in the fucking van!’ He snaps at the two boys, manhandling them into the passenger side before clambering up and slamming the door closed.

The other man climbs in the driver’s side, starts the engine and pulls away. He sweeps round the car park before pulling out onto the road. Lilly runs round to driver’s door of the Landrover, fumbling with the keys to get the door unlocked. Inside she stares down at the basic controls. The gear stick too worn and faded now to show the numbers of the gears.

Shoving the key in she turns it too quickly, not giving the coil a chance to warm up and start the diesel engine. When it fails to start she keeps trying, eventually getting the loud engine spluttering as it rumbles to life.

Grinding noises wrench into the night as she shoves and pulls at the gear stick, trying to find a slot for it to go in. It takes time to figure out how to hold the clutch down, find the gear and lift it at the right time while lifting the gas pedal for the engine to move, and then even longer to find the handbrake and release it.

False starts as the engine stalls again and again. Lilly, refusing to let the frustration take over keeps trying, learning from each mistake until gingerly, the vehicle moves off. It doesn’t have power steering and she grits her teeth at the strength needed to turn the steering wheel, learning it’s much easier to do when the vehicle is moving.

Onto the lane and she bounces along, first trying to fumble for the headlights then realising that’s the last thing she wants to do. Inside the van they might not hear the engine but at night they will definitely see the lights.

So she pushes on in darkness, bouncing the vehicle over the potholes and ruts as she keeps it in first gear. The engine screams out, begging her to change up and eventually she gives it a go. Losing all power as she fails to find the slot and is forced to start again from scratch.

Juddering, failing, stopping and starting she gets to the end of the lane, to the junction with the main road and no sign of the van in either direction.

Trying to think, she imagines the direction they came from would be left, back to the houses they found earlier. Maybe she should go right then to find Chapsworth House?

The tears start to fall, she’s lost them already. With a fifty-fifty chance of them being in either direction, she pulls out and heads right, again juddering the vehicle as she clumsily tries to push through the gears.

She refuses to sob. The tears can stream down as much as they want. That’s a physical reaction that she has no control over. But sobbing? Weeping? Not now.

If she doesn't find them, then that is the place to head for. At least Sam took the painkillers from the holiday cottage. That rapist scum can suffer a bit longer. Hopefully he will get infected from the bite and die a slow painful death.

Her mind fills with images of stabbing the two men repeatedly, cutting their throats and watching them die slowly. But none of that matters. What matters is getting Billy and Todd away from them, away from here and somewhere safe.

Fifteen years old and she pushes the Landrover on, determined to do what her father and Norman failed to do and protect her family.

Twenty Five

‘BOSS!’

His own voice snatches him from the final layers of sleep. His voice but not recognised. He knows he shouted, but the yank from sleep to awake was too fast and has left the mind unable to differentiate between reality and dream.

Sat bolt upright with wild eyes staring round the room, he tries to remember what he was seeing just before he woke up. But the images have already faded and disappeared. Mr Howie? What happened to him?

Scrabbling to the end of the bed, Nick gets quickly to his feet. Too quickly. The waves of dizziness pulse through his head, forcing him to sink back down onto the soft mattress.

Slow down. Slow down get a grip.

Last night. Clarence got away with the Saxon. Everyone else had to run for it. He got into the street and was chased. He killed the undead and got in here. Right. His head makes the connection to the universe. The built in sat-nav telling his brain where he is in time and space.

‘I slept here,’ muttering to himself he looks round the room, at the pink bedding covers and the lace pink covers on the bedside lamps, and the faded pink rug and the cream and pink dressing table.

‘Nice choice,’ he repulses at the shock of pink on display. Almost thankful that the lads won’t know he chose an overwhelmingly pink room to sleep in. It was dark though, and he was knackered and that bed was very comfortable.

Nodding, he tries getting to his feet again. This time his heart works in synchronisation with his body and the pressure is stable enough to sustain the movement. Moving quickly, he exits the room and opens doors until finding the bathroom, grimacing at the sight of more pink. Pink wash basin, pink bath, pink toilet seat cover. Everywhere is bloody pink.

Toilet seat up, zipper down and release. The jet of piss is joined by the sigh of relief as his bladder is allowed to empty the contents.

Eyes track the room, his upper lip twitching in horror at the vibrant shades of pink. His own reflection makes him look twice, a literal double take done at the sight of the man staring back at him.

Not a boy or a youth anymore but a man. His thick dark hair stands up straight from his head, stubble coats his set jawline, any fat that remained has been sluiced off from the constant running, fighting and lifestyle of the last two weeks. What remains is a lean man with defined muscles, a narrow waist that flares to a wide back and the promise of powerful shoulders.

The stream turns into a sprinkle as he finishes up, giving a shake before zipping and automatically reaching for the handle to flush.

Even his own hands look alien. The slender fingers that were only good for taking things apart, have now been responsible for thousands of deaths. They give death time and time again. Taking bodies apart instead of electrical appliances.

Glancing up he examines his own reflection again. Never given to vanity or conceit, Nick had battled with dyslexia and low self-esteem for much of his life. It wasn’t narcissism that held his gaze at the mirror. It was the realisation that the eyes of a killer stared back at him. The hardness that all the team had was there and clearly evident. A coldness that will never lift. The ability to take life in an instant.

The team. They were his family now, and far better than the family that he belonged to in his previous life. Loyalty and devotion to one another was a new concept for Nick. He had always had a kind, loving heart. But years of self-degradation, of self-perception that he was something less than average, that he was thick, dense, lacked intelligence, all of those things had imprinted into his psyche, making him prefer the company of solace to that of others.

Is it wrong to use someone else’s toothbrush? Lifting an eyebrow at himself he ponders the question, then takes the subject matter and compares it against the horrors of pain, suffering, torture and death has witnessed. But the two cannot relate. Death and suffering is one thing but using someone else’s toothbrush? Nah, that’s just gross. A step too far.

Shuddering with the thought of it, he avoids the bristly tool propped in the glass next to the sink and instead rinses his face. Cleansing the sweat built up from his sleep.

And it was a long sleep. His limbs feel tired and achy but on the whole he feels good. The sleep has rejuvenated his mind and body alike.

After his face, Nick washes his armpits then drops his trousers and under-garments to clean his privates. Enjoying the sensation of the cool water on his body.

‘I’ve got a great arse,’ he chuckles to himself as he cleans between the cheeks, ‘hey, you got a great butt there,’ he mimics an American accent making himself chuckle again.

What happened to the boss?  The question pops back into his head and stops his joking around immediately. The question hasn’t left, and it won’t leave until the answer is known.

Clarence will go back to the car park, so that is exactly where Nick needs to be now. Surprisingly for someone so in love with gadgets and gizmos, Nick doesn't wear a watch. The essence of the day however, is not that of early morning. Or is it?

The heat makes it impossible to tell. The light is always so strong now and the heat is relentless. Speaking of which, Dave’s voice drives into his mind. Drink when you can.

So he does, bent over at the tap he sucks the cool water into his throat and keeps going until it starts to get uncomfortable. Standing up he belches and wipes the back of his hand across his lips.

At least the water has gone someway to filling his ever hungry stomach. Always hungry. Always starving. Nick loved food almost as much as he loved taking things apart.

Grunting at the thought of food, he hurries downstairs clutching his axe and checking the pistol on his belt, then feeling in his pockets for the spare magazine.

In the kitchen he grins with satisfaction. Miss Pink has a well-stocked kitchen. Tinned meat, tinned fish, beans and tinned fruit.

He should get going. Really should get going. But Dave always says to drink when you can so that probably extends to food too.

Definitely extends to food.

Drawer: opened.

Tin opener: found.

Tins: opened.

Food: removed.

Mouth: masticating.

Throat: swallowing.

Stomach: getting fed.

Nick: stuffing his face.

Fish is mixed with fruit which is mixed with spam which is mixed with beans and all of it washed down with warm but fizzy coke from an unopened bottle.

Sugar and salt levels go through the ceiling. Glucose soars. His body gives a standing ovation to the carbohydrates being taken in. Muscles nod seriously at one another as the protein is absorbed.

Food. Real food. Really real food that has to be chewed and has flavours and everything! Rummaging while chewing, he gives a muted yell of victory at finding the box of Coco Pops cereal. They get poured into his open mouth and mixed with the fish, beans, fruit and spam to make a meal that at any other time would have most people gagging.

His stomach fills far quicker than it used to. A direct result of the reduced diet and the infrequent meals has seen the stomach lining reduce in size.

The feeling of being full is nice. The energy that pours into his body is even nicer. Mind fully awake now as it buzzes from the nutrition absorbed.

Only two things remain that could make this morning perfect. Well, three things if he was going to be completely true. One, a cigarette. That can be dealt with. He fishes in his pockets for the crumpled and battered packet and he draws one out. Holding the lighter to the end, he inhales to savour the harsh bite of smoke.

Two, a coffee. But nothing can be done there. The hobs are electric and pretty short of building a fire to heat water he will simply have to go without.

Three, a beautiful woman to wake up with. Now that is never going to happen. Not now, not tomorrow and probably not ever. The world is suddenly lacking in beautiful women. Lani is beautiful but not in that way. Like a sister and besides, Lani and Howie are meant for each other. That’s pretty obvious.

Marcy was nice, very beautiful but then she was a dirty fucking zombie. Other than that? Well, they all keep getting killed so probably best not to go there.

One out of three isn’t bad though. It’s better than none out of three. Fed, watered and now with a cigarette and it’s time to leave this house of pink and make his way into the bright, hot weather waiting outside.

Exiting the front door he squints into the sky, letting his eyes adjust to the glare. Out the front garden and into the street, staring down the road and trying to remember which way he came in. He was killing zombies, then he ran for a bit before finding this house.

Shit, must have gone some distance. Can’t even see the smoke from the fires in the High Street, unless they’ve gone out. Who would put them out?

Wondering if any of these houses have gas hobs to heat water and make coffee with, he starts strolling down the street. Biting his bottom lip as he tries to resist the temptation to start checking and keep going.

Why aren’t I worried for the boss? Because he’s okay, that’s why. How does he know this? How can he possibly know this? A connection, a feeling, something intangible and fleeting that cannot be grasped. Mr Howie is okay. Dave will be with him.

What about everyone else? Blowers and Cookey? Did they get out? No, they were at the door to the stairwell. Lani? She went after Mr Howie. Meredith? No idea but that dog is like Dave and indestructible.

The connection is there with all of them. He worries because they are separated, but deep down, he knows that they’re ok. It doesn't make sense.

But it is what it is so Nick walks on, still resisting the temptation to find a gas hob and make coffee.

At the end of the road he pauses, looking first left then right as he still tries to figure out which way he came in. Turning round, he considers the possibility that he came in from the other end. Shit, can’t even remember if the house was on the left or right when I got here.

That’s bad. And clearly down to a lack of coffee. Should have a coffee. Shrugging he walks on, choosing to go left simply because he is closer to that side.

The problem with these places is that they all look the same. All the houses are made from brick, with slate roofs and small front gardens. Nick used to look at magazines and watch programmes of the houses in America, at how big they were and made from wood too. All of them seemed huge with massive gardens and each one was unique.

Axe over one shoulder, he pauses to light another cigarette before glancing up to look around at the houses. Less signs of the devastation here. Some doors smashed in and windows broken, some of the cars have been dented or set on fire but mostly the area looks to have escaped the worse of the carnage.

He wonders if there are survivors cooped up inside the intact secure houses. Maybe watching him now and wondering who he is, and why their town centre has been set on fire, and who was doing all that shooting last night. Mind you, can’t even see the smoke from the town centre from here.

They could have just slept through it all without any idea that such a battle was taking place just a short distance away.

No way, they must have heard the explosion Paula set off before they got back with the Saxon. Judging from the destruction caused, they must have been big bangs. Cocking his head to one side he thinks that he will have to ask Dave to show him how those bombs are made and anything else like that.

What was that? Focussing, he inhales purposefully, detecting the scent of smoke in the air. Not cigarette smoke from the one in his hand but wood smoke mixed with chemicals. Staring up into the sky he rotates fully round, catching sight of a slightly darker area in the distance. Like a dirty mist hanging in the air.

With a direction to follow he sets off, thinking how far away he is and again amazed at the distance they got away last night. He comes to the end of the residential area and moves into the next one. More houses, more front gardens, more low brick walls and more cars.

All these lives just poodling along doing whatever normal people do. Going to work and coming home, watching television and eating dinner before going to bed and doing the same again. Family issues, falling out with people over comments made on Facebook. Texting, emailing, computer games and all the time sitting down and waiting to die.

Years must go by without the routine ever changing. The only excitement is the annual holiday to somewhere hot and sunny just to come home and return to the same lifestyle that just goes on and on. Buy food, eat food. Go shopping. Buy clothes. Text. Email. Facebook. Watch movies, go to work, go to sleep and get up again. Own your house, don’t rent. Get a mortgage, buy a car oh and don’t forget to exercise and don’t smoke, and don’t drink and don’t eat fatty foods or even look at MacDonald’s.

The lessons of life drummed into society, told how to live, how to think, how to buy and how to work. And now? It’s all gone.

His keen mind works fast, processing thoughts into a seamless flow that swims through his conscious. The last two weeks have been a living hell. Watching people die every day, watching mates die. Fighting and fighting. Running away or chasing after the undead. But somewhere deep inside his heart it feels better than it was.

He belongs to something that is important. He enjoys being a part of it. Not an observer stood on the outside, looking through the window being unable to join because he can’t read or write, wishing he could join that group or be a part of that team. Wishing he didn’t have the issues he had.

But now none of that matters. He adores Howie, as with every member of the team he deeply respects the man and knows there is something incredibly special about him. Same with Dave, Clarence, all of them. Even Blowers and Cookey are closer to him now than any of his own family were before this happened.

To put your life in someone else’s hands, to trust them implicitly with every facet of your existence, knowing that if they fail not only will you die, but many others will too. Knowing they trust you just as much, and to handle that responsibility and step up to the plate. That means something.

Normal life frightened Nick. The future was uncertain. How he could find a decent job that didn’t just involve carrying or moving things, or cooking fast food. Shit, even cooking fast food was a problem as it meant reading the computer screen to see the orders. He could read but when pressure was applied or people were watching he felt an overwhelming sense of freezing, of drying up and being unable to put the letters together. The same with writing. Alone and without anyone watching he could put pen to paper and form words, it was slow and bloody hard work but it could be done. As soon as anyone tried to watch him do it he lost the ability.

Rachel, the special needs teacher always told him it didn’t matter. That he was deeply intelligent and not everyone has the same skills in life. The small amount of respect he has for himself comes from Rachel. She told him that brains are wired up differently, some people are brilliant with maths and numbers, others can play instruments and some can read many languages and write beautiful words. What Nick could do with taking things apart and understanding how they worked was something incredibly special, and a skill many people simply didn’t have.

Leaving school, and leaving the support Rachel gave him, was one of the hardest periods of Nick’s life. That structure was gone, and with it the constant coaching and mentoring that Rachel offered.

It was meaningless. His family didn’t take any interest in what he did, until something broke and then they got him to fix it. But that was never done with any form of compliment or reward, not even an acknowledgment that he could take the thing apart and work out why it wasn’t working.

He’d spend hours on the computer, mindlessly playing games or wandering the streets. Drinking cans of lager, getting into scraps and just dossing. It wasn’t a lack of ambition or motivation that held him back. It was a lack of knowledge and how to find a way out.

Now though, he was dressed in army gear carrying a fucking big axe with an army pistol strapped to his belt, walking through the apocalypse whilst trying to find his ragtag bunch of mates who have proven to be possibly the hardest fighting force left in the country.

That ragtag bunch of misfits; the supermarket manager leading the autistic Special Forces soldier, the Thai girl who worked in a nightclub, the giant ex-paratrooper, the two lads always taking the piss and of course the dog. Together they have killed hundreds of thousands of those things.

Many have died, but many lived because of what they did, because of the action they took and making a stand against the undead.

Wishing Rachel could see him now, of how far he had come and how integral he was to the team. Of how proud she would be. That brings a small, sad smile to his face. Thoughts of his family don’t enter his mind. If they saw him now they’d just ask where the food was, where the fort was, where’s the booze? No, it was Rachel that would give him that huge grin and tell him how proud she was.

She talked about the kickboxing she did out of work, so maybe she survived? Maybe she is leading another small group somewhere, killing zombies while yelling at small children for running in the corridors.

This new world needs more Rachel’s. It doesn't need greedy spiteful selfish idiots who only want to take, it needs those that work and work hard.

‘Fuck,’ snapping to attention he realises how far he has walked, drifting through street after street without registering the direction.

Shaking his head he walks on, spotting the main road ahead and the dirty smoke pluming into the air further on.

Maybe he should tell the others about the pink bedroom, that would get a laugh, and a few solid days of piss-taking too.

‘Shit, it bloody hurts,’ Rapist moans again at the pain in his bitten cheek.

Rolling his eyes, the other man stares at the road ahead. Driving now for several hours and all he has had to listen to is him, yacking on about how much his face hurts, and how that fucker bit him. Even the two boys fell asleep a couple of hours ago and haven’t moaned as much as him.

It does look bad though, with blood seeping through the now dirty rag pressed to his face. The Doc will be pissed off that they’ve been so long but what can you do. It didn’t make sense that he sent them so far north to work the towns further away before doing these. Why not do the closest towns first and work out? But the Doc said everything was for a reason.

‘I need a wee,’ one of the little boys pipes up in a scared voice.

‘Hold it,’ the rapist snaps.

‘Can’t,’ Todd whines.

‘Just shut up and hold it!’

‘Can’t,’ Todd squirms, the pressure on his small bladder too much to take.

‘We’ll pull over,’ the man driving sighs.

‘No, he can bloody hold it,’ the rapist shouts then curses from the angry movement flaring the pain in his cheek, ‘I need some fucking painkillers…’

‘And you think the Doc will give you some if we turn up with two kids covered in piss? If the boy has to go then he has to go.’

‘Well he can fucking piss out the window then, come here…’

‘NO!’ Todd squirms away from the bleeding man reaching out to grab him.

‘Hang on,’ the driver interjects, ‘he ain’t pissing out the window, just wait I’ll pull up. ‘Ere, do you need to go?’ He glances down at Billy. Shaking his head Billy looks up at the man. Even the young boy can detect the differing energy between the two men. The bleeding man who hurt Sam is nasty and keeps shouting, the man driving isn’t that bad. He’s still a bad man but just not as bad as the bleeding man.

‘Sure? Cos we ain’t stopping again.’

‘No thank you,’ Billy replies, remembering his manners.

‘Okay,’ the driver shrugs as he brings the speed down, naturally drifting over to the side of the road from long habits of driving. ‘Go with him,’ he says to the rapist.

‘Really? You think?’ Rapist sneers, ‘fucking well done Einstein…would never have figured that out on my own.’

‘Alright,’ the driver placates.

‘Hurry up,’ rapist snaps, pushing the door open he clambers down and stretches before swearing again, as even that movement causes pain in his cheek. Todd shuffles over and drops down and shuffles over to the edge of the pavement.

‘Where you going?’ Rapist demands.

‘For a wee wee,’ Todd replies meekly.

‘Do it then,’ rapist shouts.

‘Take it easy,’ the driver calls out, ‘he ain’t gonna piss with you yelling at him is he?’

‘Just…’ Biting the anger down the rapist takes a breath, pressing the rag harder to his cheek, ‘just hurry up then.’

Todd carries on to the side of the pavement, followed by the bleeding man watching him closely. Standing in front of a wall he fiddles with the zip on his shorts, struggling to get them undone.

‘Come on,’ rapist mutters.

Todd glances up, tears starting to burn his eyes in terror at the man glaring at him. He struggles and tugs at the zip, finally yanking it down before pausing before drawing himself out.

‘Well get on with it,’ rapist shouts.

‘I can’t,’ Todd sobs, ‘you’re watching me.’

‘Fucking what!’

‘Oi,’ the driver leans over the passenger seat, yelling out the open door, ‘stop yelling at him…’

‘Or what?’ Rapist spins, unleashing his temper on his mate.

‘Or the Doc’ll find out you been a wanker and then what’ll happen? Think about it you moron, if these kids go back saying you were being an arsehole…’

‘Fine,’ Rapist snarls, taking a step away from Todd and standing with his back to him he folds his arms. ‘Happy now? This far enough away is it?’

Todd glances round, spotting that the bleeding man has moved away and is shouting with the other man in the van. Billy stares out, locking eyes with Todd. Todd holds his gaze for a second, looks at the driver, then he stares at the back of the bleeding man and decides to run. His little legs pumping furiously as he starts running. An instinct booming in his mind, telling him to get away, run, run and keep running.

‘GET HIM!’ The driver yells. Rapist spins round, cursing foully at the sight of Todd running round down the road. Starting after him he yells hoarsely, threatening to split the kid in half if he doesn't stop right now.

Pain burns in his cheek, his head banging with pain and waves of dizziness. Growling he runs on, trying to open his stride to go faster. He is tired though, exhausted even, and had no sleep for a long time. He struggles to sprint, so he drops back to a jog knowing the boy has nowhere to go and he’ll stop running soon. Then when he catches him…well the Doc won’t know any different if they just bring one boy back.

‘You little cunt!’ Rapist shouts, ‘I’ll fucking kill you like I did your old man…and that fucking bitch…’

Sobbing, with his chest heaving, eyes misted from tears, Todd runs and runs, following the natural bend in the road until he reaches a junction. A long wall follows the contour of the road as it bends into the side street. Sticking close to it he tries his best to run as fast as he can but the long walk yesterday has left him tired and his energy levels are already starting to drop. Pure fear pushes him on, forcing his little legs to keep going.

‘Keep running you little cunt!’ Rapist bellows, ‘I’ll fucking kill you…I’ll fucking stab your face off…’

Rapist spots the junction. The lack of anyone running down the road means the kid must have gone down the side street, ‘OI…FUCKING LITTLE WANKER….’ The rage in him explodes, nothing will stop him getting that little kid and hurting him bad. The psychotic fury, the same psychotic fury that has seen him serving many prison sentences for serious assaults, makes his eyes go wild, the red mist descending in his mind. In the past, when that mist has lifted, the rapist has genuinely struggled to recall the events of what he did during that “episode”.  In many interviews with the police he has sat there listening to evidence of witnesses put before him, shaking his head with confusion. Even when shown security camera footage of his own actions, of beating a man unconscious outside a pub he struggled to recognise himself. His own mind refuses to accept that he wasn’t the easy going, fun-loving person he thought he was.

The rape last night wasn’t a psychotic episode. That was just a necessity. He is a man, she was a woman, so he took it. Simple. No rage needed there. Until the end of course, when he was smashing her face in with his fists.

‘I AM GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU….HERE ME?...YOU ARE GONNA DIE YOU LITTLE WANKER CUNT PRICK…’

He rounds the corner into the side street and skids to a stop.

‘Pardon?’

‘Who the fuck are you?’ The rapist shouts with enough rage left to contort his features into an evil sneer.

‘I’m the man holding the gun,’ Nick replies. Holding the pistol with one steady hand, he uses the other to push the weeping boy behind him, forming a protective barrier, ‘what did you just say?’

‘What?’ Rapist demands.

‘You said you were going to kill him, you said that…’ Nick repeats, his voice soft and deadly.

‘What? Eh?...Nah…fucking hell mate,’ Rapist swallows and tries smiling with a quick dirty leer, ‘he’s er…he’s my kid ain’t he…little fuc…er…little sod got told off so he legged it….you know what kids are like eh mate, ‘ere, hand him over,’ Rapist extends one hand, beckoning Todd to come.

‘Your kid?’ Nick asks.

‘Yeah, s’what I said innit, come on nipper, mum’s waiting,’ he beckons harder, trying to smile again as he ignores the pain in his cheek.

‘What happened to your face?’ Nick asks, ‘looks like a bite mark,’ Nick steps back, forcing the child to move with him, still with one arm wrapped round his shoulders.

‘Eh? What? Oh er…you mean this?’ The man gingerly touches his face, ‘yeah er…fucking dog, yeah a dog…’

‘A dog? Wasn’t a big German Shepherd was it?’

‘Eh? What? No, er…a er…staffy, yeah a staffy got me…our staffy actually…fucking thing just turned you know…’

‘Turned?’

‘Yeah turned, no…not like them things…fuck mate, no…just you know, snapped and went for me.’

‘Not surprised,’ Nick says, ‘you threatening to kill children and all that.’

‘Ha! Yeah, got a temper on me.’ Rapist forces a laugh, ‘he’s the same, ain’t you nipper, take after your old man don’t you nipper?’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Er…Spike.’

‘The kid not the dog.’

‘Oh, Ha! Thought you meant the dog mate, yeah…ha! Er the kid…yeah his name is er…Brian, yeah Brian…Come on Brian, Mum’s waiting and we gotta get a move on, come on Bri…’

‘What’s your name kid?’ Nick asks.

‘Ere mate, don’t be getting all fucking weird,’ Rapist takes a step forward, ‘what you some kind of peado or sommit? How old are you anyway? And where you get that gun from? You in the army or something?’

‘What’s your name?’ Nick nudges the boy while keeping his eyes locked on the man with the injured cheek, ‘is he your dad?’

‘Don’t question my nipper,’ Rapist protests, ‘that’s fucked up mate, you don’t go round questioning other peoples kids.’

‘Oi mate,’ Nick nudges the boy again, ‘is this man your dad?’

‘Now listen here…’

‘No,’ Todd whimpers, terrified and frozen to the spot as he clings onto Nick, staring down at the big axe on the ground.

‘Brian!’ Rapist shakes his head.

‘What’s your name?’ Nick nudges the boy, prompting him to answer.

‘Todd.’

‘Oh you little shit,’ rapist snarls. His cheek hurts, his head hurts, he is tired, and that all takes its toll. The one chance he has to protest, his one chance to act out the role of the stunned father and try to blag out of it, that moment passes. The moment that follows is the one with Nick staring through the eyes of a killer, holding a 9mm army issue pistol whilst staring at the man with the injured cheek.

‘He killed my dad and Sam,’ Todd whimpers in a soft voice that carries only too well into the silence of the street.

‘When?’ Nick asks bluntly, watching the facial features on the injured man change. Anger replaced by indignant surprise replaced by confusion replaced by fear that seeps across his features.

‘And Billy’s dad too but not Lilly.’

‘Billy? Who is Billy?’ Nick asks.

‘Listen mate,’ Rapist finds his voice as he starts back stepping, holding his hands out in front with the palms facing out, ‘things happen don’t they…all this going on and…you know what I mean yeah? We’s just trying to get some er…some food and things happen….’

‘Who is Billy?’ Nick asks, this time directing the question at the man. He starts walking forward, maintaining the distance between him and the retreating man.

‘Billy? I don’t know,’ Rapist shrugs, ‘never heard of him.’

‘Todd, who is Billy?’ Nick asks, eyes still locked on the man in front.

‘Lilly’s brother,’ Todd whimpers, ‘down there. Billy didn’t need a wee…I wee’d in my pants.’

‘That’s okay,’ Nick replies softly, ‘don’t worry about your pants.’

‘Come on mate, keep the kid yeah? You want to keep the kid he’s all yours,’ Rapist holds his hands up, giving a magnanimous gesture, ‘everyone happy yeah? You keep him and I’ll go… no problems here mate…’

‘Where is Billy?’ Nick presses, speeding up as he walks at the man, ‘stop moving back.’

‘Come on mate,’ Rapist keeps going, back-stepping while talking in a pleading tone, ‘come on mate…take it easy…things happens don’t they, you know that…me and you we’re men ain’t we yeah? You get me, don’t you nipper?’

‘Don’t call me nipper and if you keep walking away I’ll shoot you,’ Nick speaks bluntly.

Rapist makes a mistake. His fear of dying stops him from properly seeing Nick. He sees a nipper dressed like a soldier, young and lean. What he doesn't see are the eyes, the hard stare that fixes unblinking.

A lot can happen in two weeks. Over three hundred hours. Some of them have been spent sleeping, eating and walking but many have been spent in battle, firing weapons and becoming lethal. More rounds have been fired by Nick than most platoons do during a tour of overseas warzones. Nick is intelligent. He learns quickly. Years of playing computer games, of working on small things that require focus and concentration have made his hand to eye co-ordination phenomenal.

The man is only a few yards away. The distance is small. One minor adjustment to his aim. One single solitary squeeze of the trigger. The retort is loud and instant, bouncing off the houses as it rolls down the street. The round exits the pistol, crossing the short distance and striking the man in the thigh, tearing through muscle and tissue before exiting the other side.

Shock hits Rapist faster than the pain from the gunshot. The nipper only made a quick twitch and bang. Staring down, he spots the blood spurting from his leg. That didn’t just happen. No way did that young nipper just shoot him in the leg.

He falls down, the leg suddenly unable to take his weight. Clutching the wound, the pain hits and for the first time in a few hours, the injury to his cheek is completely forgotten.

‘I’ll ask you again,’ Nick says, still holding the trembling boy close, ‘where is Billy?’

‘Down there…fuck you fucking shot me…he’s down there…in the van… down there…VINCE!’ Rapist bellows, ‘VINCE…VINCE…’

Nick glances up at the sound of an engine coming from ahead. A big, white van crosses the end of the junction, pausing as Nick clocks sight of the man behind the wheel and the young boy sat on the double passenger seat. The passenger door swinging open.

As Nick lifts his aim the engine screams louder. The driver has spotted his mate on the floor and the soldier stood over him with the kid.

‘BILLY?’ Nick bellows, catching sight of the boy lifting his arm before the van speeds off, accelerating down the street and out of view.

‘VINCE…’ Rapist bellows, twisting round to see the van driving off, ‘VINCE….GET BACK HERE….VINCE YOU FUCKING CUNT….’ His voice trails off at the same time the noise of the van tapers away. Whimpering, he stares down to the junction, at the void where the van was just seconds ago. ‘Vince…’ he whimpers. Slowly he twists round, wincing from the pain exploding up his leg. Now he can see the hard eyes staring down at him. The face is young but holds no compassion for him and that shot, it was so fast and completely brutal.

‘Shit,’ Rapist mutters, ‘please mate…’

‘Your mate has fucked off,’ Nick observes.

‘Please mate…come on…’

‘What?’ Nick shrugs, slightly confused at what he’s being asked. What does he do now? The shot he took to stop the man getting away was done from instinct. But now, he’s lying there with a gunshot to his leg and a young kid stuck to his side.

‘It wasn’t like that,’ Rapist blurts out, ‘his dad went for me, I swear it….it was self-defence and I kept the kid to keep him safe…I didn’t mean what I shouted…I wouldn’t kill a kid mate…’

‘Todd,’ Nick asks, ‘what happened with your dad?’ Todd doesn't reply. Terrified witless he clings onto Nick, only too aware that the man with the bleeding cheek is right there, so close and able to reach out and grab Todd again.

‘I’m telling ya, his dad went for me…’ Rapist pleads, ‘really mate…it was him or me…we had some food and his dad wanted it…fuck mate…you gotta believe me…’

Suddenly it isn’t so clear. A few seconds ago, and relying on pure instinct, Nick knew what to do. This was a bad man, he was threatening to kill a child. Easy, that’s black and white. Man threatening to kill child equals bad man. But now, he’s on the floor giving a plausible reason for it, explaining why he killed the kid’s dad. The kid himself is too scared to say anything.

‘So what happened?’ Nick asks, wanting to know more details before he decides what to do next. If he saw someone holding a gun he would probably drive off too, so that reaction doesn't mean anything.

‘Me and Vince, we had this camp in a forest…you know mate, like keeping our heads down,’ Rapist gasps in agony, ‘they came in and tried to take our stuff, it all got bad and like his dad got it…’

‘They?’ Nick probes.

‘What?’

‘You said they?’

‘Yeah they…fucking they…them…the fuckers that tried to steal our food,’ Rapist snaps.

‘So not just Todd’s dad then?’

‘Eh?’

‘How many came into your camp?’

‘What? I don’t fucking know…shit mate…you get shot in the leg and see if you can remember everything…have some mercy mate…’

‘How many?’ Nick asks again.

‘I don’t know!’ Rapist wails, ‘they raped Vince’s daughter and it all went fucking bent…’

‘What?’

Too late now, it’s been said. Rapist curses himself internally for egging it too far but now it’s out it can’t be taken back, ‘yeah…Vince’s daughter…she’s in the back of the van all cut up and stuff, poor cow…’

‘Why didn’t you say that before?’ Nick asks.

‘Er…fucking scared mate…you waving that gun about and saying you gonna shoot me and…’

‘I never said I was going to shoot you.’

‘You did, I swear you did…shit mate…I haven’t eaten for days and my cheek got bit and I’m confused…you’re confusing me.’

‘You said they came for your food.’

‘Yeah.’

‘But you just said you hadn’t eaten in days.’

‘Eh? Look you’re confusing me. You’re doing it on purpose just cos you got that fucking gun…this is torture this is…you’re torturing me….’

‘So,’ Nick asks slowly, ‘you hadn’t eaten the food that they came for and they managed to rape Vince’s daughter before you…’

‘Fucking hell!’ Rapist screams in agony cutting Nick off, ‘my god this fucking hurts….I think you got the bone…shit I’m gonna die here…’

‘You ain’t bleeding that much,’ Nick peers down at the leg.

‘Bullet is still in there,’ rapist rolls over for effect, clutching his leg as he writhes on the ground.

‘Nah, it came out,’ Nick says, ‘I heard it bounce off the pavement.’

‘Oh god…my poor wife…’ rapist wails.

‘Wife?’ Nick scratches the side of his head. This is all getting too much. What would Mr Howie do? He knows what Dave would do. This bloke wouldn’t have been shot in the leg for a start. But what would the boss do? Christ this is difficult, Nick thinks to himself.

His instinct is telling him the man is lying. Lying about everything and his story has more holes in it than a sieve. But what if he’s telling the truth, or really is just confused?

‘Can you walk?’ Nick asks, deciding to get him back to the car park and leave the decision to someone else.

‘Eh? Er…yeah…’ Rapist spots the glimmer of light. He can sense the young lad’s indecision. His leg hurts like hell but not that bad, the bullet missed the bone so the pain could have been a lot worse.

‘Get up then,’ Nick orders.

‘Where…where we going?’ Rapist mutters, moving slowly he uses his good leg to take his weight as he eases himself upright.

‘Just get up,’ Nick replies, ‘Todd, you alright?’ No answer but Nick feels the boy nodding against his side. ‘Todd, we’re going to have to walk for a little while.’

Todd nods but doesn't let go. Nick doesn't know what to do, so starts walking awkwardly over to his axe, scooping over it up whilst navigating the small child clinging on and keeping the pistol aimed at the other man.

‘Can you move off a bit,’ Nick asks softly, prompting Todd to squeeze harder. The young boy, like Billy did with Rapist and the driver in the van, senses the difference between Nick and the injured man. Nick looks like a soldier and soldiers are like policeman. He speaks softly and holds him close. They wear a uniform and are the goodies. Mummy always said if you get lost then find someone in a uniform. Seeing Nick walking down the street prompted Todd to run straight for him, grabbing him tight as he listened to the screaming threats being bellowed from behind.

Nick doesn't push the boy off, but starts walking with him holding on, hoping that it’s as uncomfortable for Todd as it is for him and that he’ll soon relax a bit.

Grunting with pain, Rapist limps slowly forward, using both hands to squeeze the wound. Nick notices there isn’t that much blood, the bullet must have missed any arteries and gone straight through the muscle. In this heat, with the amount of dirt and filth about, the wound will get infected if not treated quickly.

‘What’s your name?’ Rapist grunts, glancing up at Nick with what he hopes is a friendly look.

‘Nick,’ for a second he was going to tell him to mind his own business, but what harm can knowing his first name do?’

‘Nice to meet you Nick,’ Rapist nods with a quick puzzling grin, ‘in fact mate, I’m glad it was you we met you know, even though you shot me eh?’ With a chuckle the man carries on limping, ‘nice young lad like you, yeah…soldier are you?’

To save giving the long explanation, Nick just nods but makes sure to keep a good distance between them and the pistol held ready.

‘Good for you nipper, wanted to serve myself but life got in the way. Shame really, I was always told I’d have made a fucking good soldier…cor fuck me…that hurts some…’

Nick lets him speak, using the time to gain the measure of the man. He is larger than average and covered in faded old style tattoos. Messy, lank hair, thick limbs and a big gut that no doubt was somewhat bigger two weeks ago. This man doesn't take care of his appearance. He screams bully with the hard look and icy, thousand yard stare.

Two weeks ago, Nick would have done everything he could to avoid people like this and the rough, brutal, bullish attitudes they always had. They were always too ready to fight and pick on those smaller than them.

But that was two weeks ago, and now, even without the pistol, Nick would have stood his ground.

‘Yeah, you know Nick, the last two weeks have been hell ain’t they, just hell…keep hoping the government will sort it out but it don’t look good does it…what’s your orders then Nick?’

‘Orders?’ Nick asks, not liking the way this man keeps using his name.

‘Army orders, what’s the score then Nick?’

Nick is unsure how to answer so he doesn't. He remains quiet, reluctant to get drawn into a conversation.

‘Oh I get it,’ Rapist gives a knowing wink, ‘yeah course Nick, can’t be telling everyone what your orders are can ya, nah course not. Guess you must be in the Special Forces or something eh Nick?’

‘Just keep walking,’ Nick prompts. His tone tells Rapist his constant, inane chatter is starting to work. He can wear this lad down, get him comfortable and safe, make him think there is no malice and no threat.

‘Poor lad, he alright is he?’ Rapist nods at Todd, ‘going through all that must have scared him half to death…didn’t mean to scream all them bad words at the poor mite but I was shitting myself that he’d run into those things and get bit…I tried asking nice like Nick, but the lad kept running so I figured I might try and scare him into stopping…you can see that can’t you Nick?’

‘Quiet one ain’t ya Nick, I get that…I like the peace and quiet myself….yeah I can see a young me in you Nick. Very good the way you handled that gun there, very quick…and a good steady arm too…well trained but then the British Army is the best in the world, ain’t it Nick?’

‘You remembered what happened last night then?’ Nick asks quickly, ‘how many came into your camp?’

‘Cor bloody hell Nick, it was so dark. I’m a big fella and all but I don’t mind telling you that I shit myself, frightened half to death I was…begging ‘em to just go and take what they wanted but…’

‘But what?’

‘They wouldn’t have any of it would they, did that to Vince’s daughter the poor sod, then Vince, he like went for one of them and it all kicked off…One bloke went for me….His dad I reckon it was…anyway, so he went for me and I was begging him to stop but…things happen,’ his voice trails off as though the memory is too hard to handle.

‘So how many were there?’ Nick asks again.

‘Well, there’s his dad,’ he nods at Todd, ‘then er…the other fella so that’s two…and er…well Todd there he was sort of you know…er…behind them and er…’

‘Just two of them? Against three of you?’

‘Three?’

‘Vince’s daughter?’

‘Eh? Oh yeah…well she’s only a wee one herself.’

‘How old?’

‘Eh? Oh er…fourteen I guess, yeah she’s fourteen.’

‘What about Sam?’

‘Who?’

‘Todd said you killed his Dad and Sam? Who was Sam?’

‘Oh yeah…that was the other er…the girl,’ Rapist grimaces, realising Sam must be the name of the girl he raped.

‘Girl? A girl attacked you too?’

‘Yeah, bloody hell Nick, she was going crazy…like a..a…banshee or something…just nuts…shocking, really shocking…’

‘Todd, who is Sam?’ Nick asks quietly.

‘…sister,’ Todd replies, his voice muted and muffled.

‘Your sister?’ Nick confirms, feeling the boy nodding his head.

‘How old is Sam?’

‘…Teen.’

‘What did you say Todd?’

‘Fifteen,’ Todd pulls his head away to answer then promptly pushes it straight back into Nick’s side.

‘Fifteen, you were attacked by a fifteen year old girl?’ Nick asks in a suspicious voice.

‘Was she fifteen?’ The rapist shakes his head in shock, ‘no way…not fifteen…bloody hell she was a big unit…I would have put her at nineteen, or maybe even twenty…fuckin’ hell…gotta be drugs, high on drugs…’

‘I think,’ Nick speaks up in a strong voice that cuts the rapist off mid-sentence, ‘that you are full of shit mate…’

‘Eh? Hang on Nick…you weren’t there mate…’

‘And if you don’t stop talking I will shoot you in the other fucking leg…trust me…I will shoot your other fucking leg…’

‘Nick, just listen mate…’

‘Don’t believe me? Up to you fucknuts…keep going and see what happens…I ain’t that intelligent, really I ain’t, but even I can spot bullshit like that…’

Rapist hobbles on, his nasty little eyes scanning the road ahead like a hungry rat looking for food. Opportunities present themselves all the time, just got to be ready to make the best of it when it happens. They’re obviously going somewhere specific, probably to meet other people, maybe more soldiers. If that little shit starts speaking and tells a good tale he’s done for. They’ll either shoot him outright or string him up like they used to in the old days. Ain’t no law or fair trials now.

The going is painfully slow as Rapist makes a meal of his injury, painfully limping and grimacing. However, as time goes on the pain increases until he is genuinely struggling with real pain flaring in his leg and his cheek.

‘Nick, I needs to rest a minute,’ he wheezes, still adding a bit on for effect, hoping the young lad will be lured into thinking he is worse than he really is.

‘Nope,’ Nick replies cheerfully, ‘keep going.’

‘You just shot me in the leg…have a heart Nick, come on….just a quick rest…’

‘Alright,’ Nick concedes, thinking he could do with a drink of water and a cigarette. Checking the area he spots a house with a front door torn from the hinges, leaving a gaping hole into the hallway ‘Over there,’ Nick points, directing the limping man across the road.

‘Up the path,’ Nick prompts, walking slowly behind while the man takes his time muttering and grumbling with pain. ‘Stop there…HELLO? Anyone home?’ Nick calls out, ready to shift his aim from the man to the hallway should anything present itself.

Fuck. Now what? They can’t all go into the kitchen can they? He can’t leave Todd outside with this man, and he strongly doubts that Todd will want to go inside on his own to get them all a drink of water.

An easy solution presents itself as Nick nods, thinking this is what Mr Howie would do. ‘Right mate, you go down and get some water…I’ll be right behind you and if you do anything other than get water I’ll shoot you in the bollocks…’

‘Course Nick,’ Rapist nods eagerly, ‘course mate, you’re in charge.’ He stumbles over the front door step, wincing as a fresh jolt of pain soars through his thigh. They go down the hallway and into the kitchen at the end. Nick is right behind him, watching every move. Having learnt first-hand from Dave how dangerous knives are, Nick does a quick visual sweep of the kitchen making sure there are no potential weapons lying around. The rooms have been turned over with signs of intense fighting taking place. Dried blood is smeared across the beige walls and a long stain leads away towards the open back door. Glancing outside, Nick spots the corpse on the grass with a garden fork impaled through its face.

‘Get some water,’ Nick nods at the sink. The man sighs as he rests his backside against the work top and lifts a mug from the draining board. Twisting the tap on he rinses the mug out, ensuring all his movements are slow and controlled, doing everything he can to drag it out. Eventually he fills the mug and takes a long swig, gulping it down noisily.

‘Todd, you need to drink some water,’ Nick urges.

‘Here mate,’ Rapist holds his hand out, extending the filled mug towards the small boy. Todd flinches back to quickly get behind Nick.

‘He doesn't like you does he,’ Nick comments drily.

‘Can’t blame him,’ Rapist shakes his head sadly, ‘poor kid…it’s alright for us as we know what’s going on, don’t we Nick…but these poor little blighters eh?’

‘Put the mug down and go over there.’

‘Yeah course Nick…mind if I sit down on that chair Nick? My leg is hurting somethin’ proper mate. Cor you got me a right good shot there Nick…no hard feelings though eh nipper…’

‘Todd, get some water mate,’ Nick urges, gently pushing the lad towards the mug and taking a relieved stretch when Todd finally let’s go of him.

Keeping one eye fixed on the seated man, Nick gets to the sink and finds another mug to fill. Rapist stares at him with interest whilst gripping his thigh.

‘Take your drink Nick, I ain’t going nowhere mate…go on…get a nice drink…bleedin’ hot out there it is.’

Nick gulps the water quickly, his thirst not that great since his hearty breakfast this morning. Fishing a packet of cigarettes out from his pocket, he taps one out and watches a greedy glint come into the other man’s eyes.

‘Got a spare one Nick? Left mine in the van.’ Pondering the request, Nick shrugs and chucks the packet over, noticing the deft catch and the quick movements of the man as he pulls one out and starts patting his pockets down.

‘Ere nipper,’ Rapist says to Todd, ‘you’d best go and stand by that back door if we’re smoking in here.’

A passing comment said in a kindly voice, but Todd looks at Nick with wide, scared eyes, unsure of what to do.

Nick doesn't want to be seen agreeing with the man, but at the same time the child should stand by the back door while the room fills up with smoke.

‘I hate it when people smoke round kids,’ the man comments, inhaling deeply to blow the smoke out into the air above him.

Nick doesn't reply, but flits his gaze between Todd and the man, taking care to blow his own smoke towards the open back door.

‘So you been about much Nick?’ Rapist asks conversationally. ‘Ere nipper, can you pass me that towel there,’ he points to the tea towel hanging from the cooker front.

Todd doesn't move, refusing to even look in the direction of the man and keeping his gaze fixed firmly on Nick. Leaning over, Nick grabs the towel and throws it over. The man ties it round his injured leg, wincing at the pain before gingerly touching the wounds in his cheek.

In silence they stand, sit and smoke. Nick wishes Mr Howie was here to deal with this. The man is talking shit about what happened, but shooting him in cold blood just doesn't feel right. Leaving him here is another option but not one that Nick is comfortable with.

‘Let’s go,’ Nick speaks up. The man nods amiably and struggles to his feet. With Rapist in the lead, Nick follows with Todd glued to the back of his legs. The small group shuffle down the hallway, out the door across the garden and once more into the road. The heat slams into them like a wall.

‘Eh Nick, you ever felt heat like this before?’ Rapist comments in a tone that suggests they are now acquaintances. ‘Hotter than fucking Malaga this is, bloody terrible it is…Be nice resting on a beach with a can of lager, watching the birds though eh mate, Cor I bet the birds love you in that uniform eh? Ha! Takes me back…being young and handsome…’

Nick zones out, letting the man waffle on in his pathetic attempt to build a relationship between them. He’s trying to bridge that gap and show the human side of his manner, show that they’re all in this together. Nick might struggle with the written language but his perceptions are good, very good, and he understands exactly what the man is trying to do.

Todd remains silent and stays very close to the back of Nick’s legs, keeping him as the barrier between him and the man. He saw what the man did to Sam, how they were both almost naked and wrestling on the floor. He knew the man was hurting his sister, and he knew it was a very bad thing. Todd had never seen anyone wrestle with their clothes off before, and his mum was always saying you shouldn’t be naked in front of anyone, apart from your mum and dad, and Sam was okay too, and doctors and nurses…but other than that, you shouldn’t be nudey.

Todd also heard what the man said about last night, but the connection wasn’t made. Todd didn’t understand what the man was talking about and he was too scared to say anything.

With a growing impatience, Nick keeps glancing up at the sun. Time is ticking away and the pace they are going is too slow. What if the others can’t wait or something else happens that means he misses them?

Worst case scenario is that he has to find a vehicle and head to the fort. They all know that is the fall back position.

The smoke pluming into the sky edges nearer, but it doesn't look right. It’s not big enough for a start. Initially, he thought the distance made the smoke appear small, but it is small. Far smaller than it should be for a whole High Street on fire. However, the fires could have died down during the night, leaving just small sections smouldering.

A nagging feeling grows. Are they heading in the wrong direction? Surely they should be close to the town centre by now. No signposts, no directions and no features that suggest they are getting closer. If anything the houses are getting bigger and are set back further from the road suggesting they are moving towards the outskirts of town where the more expensive houses are built.

The cars on the driveways become less working man and more Mercedes and BMWs. Keeping his eyes glued to the smoke, Nick waits for the road to open up to gain a better view.

Maddox’s kids ran off in all directions last night, so it’s possible they got this far and something happened that resulted in another fire, or something else.

Unsettled and starting to worry, the normally easy going Nick stays close to Todd, making sure the boy is within arm’s reach.

Rapist picks up on the change. The atmosphere is now that bit more charged than it was. The soldier lad is worried, something isn’t going right for him. Pick your moment and wait for the opportunity.

His leg hurts like hell, but nowhere near as much as he makes out. Slowing down again, he gives it a good act of struggling to walk. He clutches his leg while holding his breath, which he knows will make his face go red and push the veins out in his neck.

Voices?  Maybe? A fleeting sound that fades as quickly as it came. Noise, maybe a car door. Nick keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead, wishing that bend to straighten out so he can see what it is and hoping it is some of the team.

An engine, definitely a diesel engine spluttering noisily. Jesus, the thing is being hammered in second gear, protesting with a loud whine that builds to breaking point. Whatever vehicle it is backfires, a loud boom that causes Rapist to twitch and Todd to rush closer to Nick.

Rapist stays quiet, his own gaze watching keenly as the bend ever so slowly opens up.

The screaming engine cuts out suddenly, spluttering as it dies off. They can hear more voices now, someone laughing and another car door being slammed shut.

With a quick glance, Rapist notices Nick is focussed on the road ahead, his steady gaze holding as firm as the hand which grips the pistol. Luck of the devil his mother used to say, as she shook her head in disgust at the wayward child she couldn’t help but love.

Landrover’s are sturdy and robust vehicles, used by police, military and emergency services all over the world. Easy to fix and famous for being able to navigate the most treacherous of terrain. As strong as they are, as robust as they are, being held in second gear for hours of driving over long miles does nothing to maintain that reliability.

If Lilly had been driving a modern vehicle she would have easily worked out how to change up through the gears. The Landrover, though, was something else. She could find first and second but third? No way. I just wasn’t there. She tried and tried again to make the shift but it just wouldn’t budge and resulted in a loss of whatever speed and momentum she had gained.

Her only choice was to stay in second. She could have, with knowledge and experience, brought the speed up and block changed from second to fourth. But she didn’t know that.

The Landrover struggled on, doing what it was designed to do. Already an older vehicle with many faults, dodgy electrics and a damaged gear box, it was simply unable to sustain the high revolutions forced by the constant second gear driving.

It got hot. Too hot. Things started to break, small things that made thunks and bangs but as long as it kept going it didn’t matter.

Lilly was tired. The long walk in the blistering heat the day before. Then being up all night and getting by on pure adrenalin. The lack of proper food and sleep had taken its toll. Even with the window open, there was no fresh air and as the sun came up the interior got hotter and hotter.

Heat sapped at her eyes, forcing them to become drowsy to the point of the vehicle swerving side to side until she snapped awake. The high drone of the engine dulled her senses until she felt sleep tugging at her eyes.

It got hotter. The sun became brighter. The windscreen magnified the rays and increased the temperature. Sweat poured down her face, her hands were slippery on the hard plastic steering wheel. The seat was sticky and uncomfortable, the vehicle bouncy and uncomfortable.

There was no choice but to push on. To find Billy and Todd and work out a way of getting them back. Ideas and thoughts raced through her mind, maybe she could offer herself for their release, but without her to take care of them they wouldn’t last five minutes. Find them first and work out the plan after.

Into the outskirts of another town, this one larger than those travelled through before. Big houses set back from the road with expensive looking cars on the front drive. Coming down from higher ground, she had seen the big, dirty smudge of smoke hovering over the town centre. Another smaller trail of smoke hung nearby.

This was the time to find another vehicle. Plenty of modern cars left on driveways here, it would just be a matter of getting the keys and job done.

Snapping awake, she spots a red van double parked ahead and two men walking towards it from a nearby house carrying bags of food.

The men from last night had a white van, and even from this distance she can see these men are different.

Trying to decide whether to turn off or approach them, the Landrover makes its own decision and calls for help by backfiring. A sound like a shotgun blast that booms into the street, echoing and rolling off the houses.

The two men come to a sudden stop, heads snapping towards the Landrover..

Too late now. Have faith Lilly, not everyone is bad. There are good people about who can help. These men might have children of their own and understand her plight. If nothing else they might help her find a car or tell her where this place is.

Bringing the Landrover to stop just short of the red van, she finally switches the engine off, sighing with relief at the cessation of the awful noise. Dropping down, she notices the steam hissing from the front, realising the vehicle couldn’t have gone much further anyway.

‘You alright?’ One of them shouts over. Standing still, he watches as the blond girl jumps out and moves position to get a clearer view of the Landrover, no one else with her.

‘Christ love, you ragged that thing a bit,’ the second man laughs. Shaking his head he strolls to the back of the van and deposits the bags before waiting for his mate to join him.

‘I need help,’ Lilly calls out, heading straight towards them, ‘some men killed my dad last night, they killed Norman and raped Sam and took…’

‘Slow down!’ The taller of the two men steps forward waving his hands slowly, ‘who did what to who?’

‘My dad!’ Lilly replies, fighting the hysteria threatening to take over. She takes a breath and starts again, ‘two men in a big white van got into the place where we camped…they killed my dad and Norman and raped my friend Samantha…she was only fifteen…then they took my brother Billy and another little boy called Todd…’

‘Shit,’ the tallest man says, ‘that’s awful love…what about you?’

‘I hid,’ Lilly blurts, ‘I was in the bushes…they didn’t see me…’

‘Big white van?’ The shorter man walks closer with an interested look on his face. Lilly nods, slowly taking in the details of the two men. Their large build and tattooed arms and necks look too familiar..

‘Two blokes you said, yeah?’ His interested look slowly morphs into a wry smile, ‘one of ‘em had a shotgun by any chance?’

Lilly stops walking, looking between them as alarms start ringing in her head. She nods slowly as the tiredness abruptly ends and the hysteria ceases. Calm floods through her as she thinks the situation through.

‘You know them?’ She asks quickly.

The two men exchange a quick glance, ‘er…no love…saw a big white van go through here a couple of hours ago…didn’t we John,’ the shorter man says.

‘Yeah, yeah er…couple hours ago at least Terry,’ John replies, ‘two blokes in it, yeah…two blokes…’

‘Which way did they go?’ Lilly snaps.

‘That way,’ John replies, nodding down the road behind him.

‘They got your brother have they?’ Terry asks in a concerned voice.

‘And Todd,’ Lilly nods quickly.

‘How old are they?’ John asks taking a step forward and affecting the same concerned tone.

‘Six.’

‘Both of ‘em?’

Nodding back, Lilly struggles with the internal debate raging. Her instinct says to run and get away, but they seem really concerned and said they saw the van a couple of hours ago. She suppresses the natural reaction to flee, thinking it’s just because they’re big hard looking men, the sort that normally wolf whistle and make comments.

‘Terrible,’ John shakes his head sadly, ‘are you alright love?’

‘Yeah,’ Lilly says weakly, ‘I got to find them….they said they were going to er…Chapsworth…Chapsworth House, that was it.’

‘Chapsworth House?’ Terry says.

‘Do you know it?’ Lilly asks seeing the flicker of recognition in the man’s eyes.

‘Yeah, it ain't that far from here,’ Terry says quickly, ‘couple of hours maybe…that about right John?’

‘I’d say so, yeah probably couple of hours at least…that’s awful love…and this was last night was it?’

‘Yeah…I been driving all night but that car is…’

‘I can see,’ John cuts her off, ‘poor you, you must be knackered love. We gotta take her with us Terry, get her back to our camp and speak to our…er… men…’ he gives Terry a stare while saying it, a message passed along with the words.

‘Definitely,’ Terry gets the message loud and clear, ‘listen love, we got some…’ His voice trails off as Lilly snaps her attention to something behind them. Three figures, two big and one small, and all of them walking towards them.

Terry and John exchange another glance but remain silent. Walking slowly forward, Lilly strains to see the figures. One of them is limping like he has a bad leg. The other man walks behind him, holding hands with a small child. It’s the child she fixes her gaze on, staring hard as she feels her heart starting to hammer.

‘Are they with you?’ She asks quickly, not taking her eyes off the figures missing the quick shake of the head that John gives Terry.

‘No love,’ Terry replies.

The figures move painfully slow, which prompts Lilly to start walking towards them. Terry and John follow close behind.

Lilly watches the child. A boy, definitely a little boy. She speeds up, unaware that John and Terry are right behind her.

‘Todd!’ She screams at recognising the boy, breaking into an all-out sprint, ‘that’s them,’ she screams at Terry and John, ‘that’s them…’

‘Slow down,’ Terry shout but Lilly is charging forward, her face a mask of rage as she flits her gaze between the man hobbling on the injured leg and the other man walking behind him, ‘Todd!...Where’s Billy? Get away from him….get away from him…’

Nick stares in surprise at the woman charging towards them. They watched the girl talking to the two men at the back of the big red van for a couple of minutes as they edged closer, seeing the parked Landrover with the steam hissing from the front end.

Rapist stayed quiet, hardly believing his luck but then mum always said he had the luck of the devil. Too soon to show any reaction so he kept his mouth shut and his eyes open. Waiting for the two men to get closer.

The girl he didn’t recognise, and didn’t pay too much attention either. She was a stranger to him and right now was no more important than one of the stationary vehicles parked nearby. What was important was Nick walking right behind him with that fucking pistol held in his hand.

The girl screaming out then running towards them shouting the boy’s name was a surprise, and one that he quickly tried to put to his advantage. She knew the child’s name so she must have been part of their group.

Ducking his head down to hide his face he makes out his leg is hurting, grimacing in pain as he clutches at the thigh.

‘…Get away from him…’ Lilly screams. Racing across the road she makes straight for Nick, seeing Todd behind his legs. Todd stares in confusion at first, everything too much for his mind to cope with. This man is nice, he doesn't shout or say much at all. Hearing his name called out he looks up, recognising the voice. Lilly! She was the lady from yesterday, Sam’s friend.

Stepping out he watches as she runs towards them. Her face looks angry and she’s shouting. Everyone keeps shouting and it scares him. Nick doesn't shout so he stays still, unsure of what to do now.

Nick is lost in a momentary lapse of focus at seeing the stunning woman running across the road. She’s gorgeous with flowing blond hair and golden skin. The fact that she’s shouting and looks extremely pissed doesn’t register immediately.

Self-consciously he drops the pistol, not wanting the girl to think he is holding the boy against his will. Glancing down, he notices Todd has stepped out a little but isn’t running towards the girl. Maybe she is one of this blokes group? Shit…too late.

Lilly, not seeing the pistol, goes straight for Nick, ramming straight into him and taking him off his feet.

‘Lads…quick.’ The rapist bellows at the two men still coming across the road.

‘Derek? What the fuck mate?’ John shouts with a puzzled look at the girl attacking the other bloke on the floor, the young child standing there screaming, and now Derek shouting at him.

Derek and Vince were in the white van sent north to do the houses up there. That girl saying what happened last night could only have been Derek and Vince, especially Derek with his seedy mind. The two men quickly decided to keep that information to themselves in the hope of getting the girl comfortably into their van without issue.

‘Get off,’ Nick yells, ‘I saved him….get the fuck off me…’

‘You dirty, fucking, murdering, bastard… you like raping girls? You nasty pervert….’ Reaching round for her knife she hisses with anger, realising it must be in the Landrover. Instead, she starts pummelling blows into Nick’s head.

Nick dodges and weaves, trying to peer out from under the attacking girl to the man shouting loudly while hobbling away.

Despite the punches, he squirms and leans over, catching the sight of two men shouting at the one he shot. They seem to know each other, the way they respond and look at each other.

‘NOT ME….’ Nick bellows, refusing to look at the girl who slams her fists down again and again, striking his arm with such force it smacks into his own head.

One of the men turns and runs back towards the red van as the other two turn to face Lilly and the bedlam taking place.

‘Get his gun,’ Rapist shouts, ‘he’s the one that did your dad in….’

‘NO,’ Nick screams, catching a glimpse of a man running towards them. Gritting his teeth and taking the blows without flinching, he tracks the target and squeezes the trigger. The gun booms with a loud retort. As the man goes spinning off to the side, Nick drops and fires again. The girl on him screams and lunges off to grab Todd.

Todd screams as the violence explodes around him. Rooted to the spot he gets quickly smothered by Lilly diving on top of him, driving him to the ground as she protects him with her body.

Freed of her weight, Nick twists round on his back. No time to get up so he stays down, eyes flitting between the three targets. One down on the ground, one with a bullet through his leg and one running towards the red van.

‘JOHN!’ The rapist screams, ‘HE SHOT TERRY…’

Nick takes the information in. They know each other, they know each-others names. The man he just shot writhes on the ground clutching his shoulder in agony.

The third man reaches the van and the opens passenger door. Grabbing something from the front, he starts to turn back and Nick catches sight of a long barrel.

Without hesitation he fires, holding the pistol in the two handed grip Dave taught them. The shots are true, striking their target and slamming the man against the side of the van. The shotgun falls from his hands to strike the floor with a thud.

On his feet in an instant, Nick tracks the pistol between the three downed men. Eyes fixed, breathing hard, mouth set and pursed.

What the fuck is going on? Who are these people? He checks to the side to find the girl laying across Todd with her face turned towards him.

‘Is he alright?’ Nick yells, ‘Todd? Is he alright?’

‘I…He’s fine…I…’ Lilly stammers, ‘Todd, are you okay? Are you hurt?’

‘Are you with them?’ Nick tracks the pistol wider, taking a few steps to the side so he can keep a clear view of everyone.

‘What…?’

‘Todd, who is this girl? Todd, you gotta answer me mate, who is this girl?’

A muffled voice, lost under the protective layer of Lilly keeping him covered.

‘Easy now Nick…well done lad…good shooting that,’ rapist shouts.

‘SHUT UP,’ Nick roars, ‘Todd….I need you to tell me, who is this girl? How do you know his name?’ Nick glances at the girl, the pistol still held two handed.

‘He was taken last night with my brother,’ Lilly manages to blurt out, her own mind a whirling mess of panic and confusion.

‘Brother?’ Nick asks, ‘What’s his name?’

‘Billy!’

‘Todd, tell me who this girl is,’ Nick demands, unsure of what the hell is going on. These men know each other. The girl was with them and she bloody attacked him. Is she on their side? How did she know Todd’s name? Already he can feel a trickle of blood dripping down from his scalp and his face feels tender.

‘Todd, tell him…’ Lilly urges, slowly removing herself from the boy, she keeps herself between him and the armed man, ‘Todd, it’s okay…it’s okay Todd…tell this man who I am…’

‘Lilly,’ Todd blurts.

‘Lilly? Who is Lilly, Todd?’ Nick asks.

‘Nick, take it easy…those two cunts are the ones that got us last night…’ Rapist takes advantage of the chaos to try and create another opportunity.

That voice. Nah fuck him, let him die slow the cunt…his fucking mate bit my cheek didn’t he…

Last night, that voice. That same voice. She stares across the road to the man lying down clutching his leg. The position of him means his face is turned away, but that voice.

Snapping her head towards Nick, she finally looks at him properly. She sees a young man dressed like a soldier, with straight dark hair that stands up from his head and a voice she doesn’t recognise. Not one of the voices from last night. It was dark and with only the firelight to use she knows she might not easily identify them, but the way they spoke will stay with her forever. Deep and mature from years of hard living with rough accents. Nothing like this man with the gun.

‘Nick?’ Lilly calls out, bringing his attention to her, ‘is that your name?’

‘Yeah,’ Nick nods, ‘and I don’t have a fucking clue what is going on right now…’

‘Nick!’ Rapist shouts, ‘them’s the cunts that got us last night, that bitch is one of ‘em…get her away from that boy Nick…’

Standing up slowly, Lilly once more stares over at the man on the ground. That voice is distinct, the way he speaks, the dropped letters. The image of him thrusting into Sam fills her mind, of the way he beat his fists down into her face. The way he screamed and laughed.

‘You,’ she hisses. Nick snaps his head round, thinking she is talking to him and spots the intense look of hatred on her face as she stares at Rapist, ‘you…you evil…nasty…evil…’ Words are not enough. The foulest of oaths cannot match the sheer rage bursting from her soul. She stalks towards Nick, her eyes still fixed on the man. Scooping down she lifts Nick’s axe up, hefting it in her hands.

Nick watches, completely stunned at the pure rage showing on her face, at the way her eyes are fixed.

‘You…you killed my dad…you killed Todd’s dad…you raped Sam…You did that…’ Lilly walks slowly towards him, ‘I watched you…I saw you hurting Sam, you beat her to death…’

‘What? Fuck off you crazy bitch? We’s the ones that got attacked…Nick…don’t fucking listen to her…’

Nick holds his position, listening intently as the girl speaks, ‘my dad is dead because of you…he bit your face…that was my dad that did that and he did it to protect us…now he’s dead…’

‘You’re fucking barking love, Nick! She’s fucking nuts…don’t listen to her Nick…’

‘Where’s Billy?’ Lilly pauses just a few feet away, holding the axe two handed as she stares down with malice.

‘Eh? Now hang on love,’ Rapist squirms to sit upright before slowly working his weight onto his good leg, ‘now slow down eh? I don’t know what you on about…’

‘Where is Billy?’ She seethes, the question coming out dangerously low, ‘where is my brother?’

‘Now see, love,’ Rapist gets to his feet, wincing at the pain shooting through his leg, ‘now if you kill me you ain’t gonna find out are ya? See? I knows where they got him but…’

Nick strides over, his head cocked to one side as he listens to the exchange.

‘…You want to find Billy you gotta make sure nothing happens to me firs…’ his words are lost in the gunshot from Nick’s pistol as he fires into the man’s good leg. This time the bullet doesn't pass through but strikes the bone, embedding deep within the marrow.

Dropping down into a squat, Nick pushes the gun into the man’s face, pressing it hard against his forehead, ‘where is Billy?’ Nick asks bluntly.

‘Oh fuck…oh fuck…my fucking legs…don’t kill me please don’t kill me…’

‘Answer the question,’ Nick replies. The decision to take the side of the girl was made from instinct. That instinct however, was self-consciously drawn from many facets. The way she spoke, the way she moved in contrast to the way the injured man moved and spoke, their body language and the information they imparted during comments they made. All of these things were absorbed instantly and naturally. Reading other people is something done every second of interaction, so when an instinctual reaction takes place, it is based on many, many factors all of which are understood within the blink of an eye.

So he squeezed the trigger, squats down and uses force to elicit the information that is required. The dynamics change within that split second. Choosing a side and taking it, taking action that tells the others within that situation who you trust and who you don’t believe.

Within the same blink of an eye, Lilly grasps the shift in the atmosphere. The shot startled her, followed quickly by the understanding that this young man is now on her side.

‘If you kill me…’ the man begs for his life. He too understood the change in power. The time trying to win an advantage through needling chat designed to undermine the others thought process is over. His life is now very much at stake. He has one hand left to play; that he knows where Billy is and they don’t. ‘…you’ll never find him…’ he adds quickly, ‘they’ll keep him and you won’t see him again…you need me alive…’

‘Chapsworth House,’ Lilly blurts, ‘they said they were taking them to Chapsworth House.’

Rapist glares up in shock, frantically thinking as his last ace is trumped by the young lady.

‘Why?’ Nick asks calmly, ‘why did you take them?’

Another opportunity presents itself. ‘I can help you,’ he gasps, ‘help me and I help you yeah? You need me…’

At this point Mr Howie would step back and let Dave ask the questions, Nick thinks. Dave would get the answers quickly. Dave wouldn’t hesitate. Be Dave.

‘FUCK!’ Rapist screams as Nick digs the point of his knife blade into his thigh just inches from the gunshot wound. Nick slowly pulls the knife out, then gently rests it on the ragged hole caused by the bullet penetrating the flesh.

‘OKAY….OKAY….FUCK.’

Pulling the knife out, Nick waits for a second as the man struggles to compose himself.

‘Too slow,’ Nick says, pushing the point back into the wound.

‘THE DOC!...Thedocwantsthem…’ he blurts, the words coming out in a solid stream of noise.

‘Keep going,’ Nick twists the point of the knife.

‘SHIT…PLEASE…dunno, I dunno…he wants the kids…he just wants them…we get food and kids and that’s it…I don’t know why.’

What else would Dave ask? What information would he want to know?

‘How many men you got?’

‘Loads,’ the man whimpers, ‘loads of them…’

‘Guns?’

‘Lots, shotguns…fuck please stop…rifles…’

‘Machine guns?’

‘Couple,’ he wheezes, almost at the point of blacking out.

‘Does he hurt the kids?’

‘NO!’ Rapist screams, a long drawn out sound full of agony and pity.

‘What does he do with them?’

‘I don’t know…I don’t want to know…we get food and women and…’

Would Dave ask anything else? Yeah, he’d ask about entry points, ways of getting in, who the doc is, where this place is, the range of the weapons, if they get drunk at night and loads more questions.

All of which are now rendered obsolete as the man slumps unconscious. His mind shutting down as the pain grows to a point that cannot be handled.

‘Shit,’ Nick mutters, standing up he stares down at the still figure. He raises the axe. ‘Shit…’ he mutters again, ‘FUCK!’ He shouts as the axe swings down, the blade biting deep into his knee joint and cleaving through bone and cartilage.

Lilly, in her young years, has never a human make a sound as Rapist does now. Nick has heard the same thing many times, he has heard the undead laughing and goading, he has heard death in all its many forms.

The pain snaps him back, his eyes snapping open as he realises what just happened. Lilly tugs at the axe, the blade wedged in the dense bone of the knee joints. Placing one foot on his thigh and pushing in, she levers the axe out. Torturing the man with savage intensity, she wrenches the axe free, lifts it high and stares down, holding her poise for a second she locks eyes on the rapist. He stares back completely frozen in fear. As the axe swings down his system floods with regret, that his life was not a good one. There will be no guiding light for him, no angels singing in welcome and no loving embrace that eases the pain.

Screwing his eyes shut, he whimpers like a child as the axe ploughs through his skull, instantly smashing the bone apart as grey sticky brains burst out.

Lilly sobs, a sudden pitiful sound as she drops the axe. The sight of his head exploding was worse than she expected. Realisation hits her that she just killed a man.

‘Oh my god,’ her hands raise to her mouth as she staggers back, ‘oh no…no…what did I do…’ tears stream down her face. The action is irreversible, he’s dead and his death came from her. She killed him. She took his life whilst he begged and pleaded. She saw the fear in his eyes and heard the soft whimper.

Nick moves quickly, just catching the girl as she sags to the ground. Good lessons learnt well as the pistol is kept in hand, pointing towards the ground. He guides her down then quickly checks around for anyone else that might want to jump out and join in.

Todd rushes over, his own face a mess of tears and snot as he sobs uncontrollably. Wrapping his small arms around Nick’s neck, he holds on for all his worth.

Smothered by a child, trying to hold the woman’s head up and still holding the pistol Nick goes with the flow, managing to get the pistol back in the holster before freeing the other arm to wrap round the boy.

With Lilly down and quiet, Nick focusses on the boy. Rubbing his back and wondering what to say. He never had experience with children before. Mr Howie is good with kids, Clarence is brilliant with kids, Lani too. Shit, even the other two lads are better than him. Maybe not Dave though.

‘Er…it’s okay?’ Nick ventures for a start. When the child doesn't explode he keeps going, ‘just calm down mate, it’s all okay now…’

Seconds tick by. The child cries and cries. Nick gets hot from the face pushing against his neck. Uncomfortable crouched down like this but the boy just keeps crying.

Her eye lids start to flicker. Slowly they open to reveal the bluest eyes Nick has ever seen. Deep oceans of pure water surrounding perfect white clouds.

‘Thank fuck,’ Nick sighs, ‘he won’t stop crying…what do I do?’

Lilly takes a few seconds to swim back to the surface of reality. Opening her eyes she sees the handsome young man comforting the boy. Sweat covers his face, his eyes are dark and mysterious. With the blue sky behind him she is captivated by the sight. Slight stubble covers his young face, giving him an older look. Tanned and smooth, lean and after what just happened, very dangerous too. Then he speaks, asking her what to do with the boy.

Blinking hard she shakes her head, ‘here, Todd…it’s okay come here.’ Sitting up, she gently prises the boy away from Nick. Todd releases, turns and clamps on with a fresh round of sobs, ‘it’s okay,’ Lilly soothes, ‘we’re all okay now…you’re safe…I’m here and nothing will hurt you.’

Slowly standing up, Nick automatically digs into his pocket for his cigarettes, pulling one out to light up as he listens with interest to the words the girl says. He was close, he almost said all of what she’s saying.

Exhaling he stares about, three men killed. Well, definitely two of them are dead and that one with the shoulder wound might be alive.

With the action over he takes stock of the events, at how fast it all unfolded. One thing is clear, Dave would be impressed with the shots he got off. With that girl battering his face he managed to keep track of the real threats and negate them before it got worse.

Speaking of which he fingers the edge of his scalp, wincing at the tender spot and the small cut there. Stretching his face it feels a bit tender. She got a few good shots there but thankfully nothing broken.

‘Sorry,’ Lilly offers an apologetic half smile half wince.

Nick chuckles easily, grinning sheepishly as he rubs his face, ‘it’s okay,’ he shrugs, ‘I’ve had worse.’

‘Are you a soldier?’ Lilly asks, still rubbing Todd’s back as his loud wailing subsides to a quiet weeping.

‘Er,’ Nick pauses, suddenly self-conscious at being stared at by this beautiful woman. Is he a soldier? He joined the army when it all happened but that was like the first training weekend. It’s been Mr Howie, Dave and Clarence that taught him everything. Does that make him a soldier?

‘I er…’ he stammers, ‘sort of?’ he blushes, realising what an idiot he sounds like.

‘Sort of?’ Lilly asks, ‘how can you sort of be a soldier?’

‘Er, well er…Shit that’s hard to explain…’

‘Sorry,’ Lilly looks away, ‘didn’t mean to pry,’ she adds quietly, sensing his reluctance to answer and misconstruing the signs as something to hide.

‘No, you’re not prying,’ Nick says quickly, seeing her turn away and drop her tone of voice, ‘it’s er…complicated sort of…we joined the army but was only on our first fucking weekend when this happened…but Mr Howie and Dave came so we er…went with them and er…fuck…’ He trails off, blushing deeper as she turns those deep blue eyes on him.

‘Oh right,’ Lilly replies wondering why his face is going bright red, ‘Mr Howie?’

‘The boss.’ Nick nods not really providing any helpful information, ‘he’s er…in charge…nice man, really nice man…you’d like him, everyone likes him…Dave’s a bit odd but he’s very fucking good,’ gabbling, definitely gabbling, ‘then there’s Lani, she’s great and from Thailand,’ still gabbling, ‘and the lads, Blowers and Cookey, they were in the army with me…really funny and Clarence, he was in the army too but he’s huge like er…’ Nick blushes even deeper as he realises his hand is held high to show the height of the big man, ‘like really…big.’ Why can’t he stop gabbling? Christ, he wishes some zombies would attack right now. Anything to stop the girl from staring at him.

‘Okay, they sound really nice,’ Lilly smiles trying ease his discomfort. Why do some men get like this when they talk to her? All tongue tied and weird? He’s just killed two men, shot another one, then stabbed him in the leg without blinking and now he’s standing there squirming and blushing like a schoolboy, ‘are they close?’ She asks lightly.

‘Should be,’ Nick nods, overwhelmingly glad of the change of direction. ‘Not far…do you er…want to meet them?’ His voice cracks as he thinks he just sounded like he was asking her out on a date. Fucking hell, three dead men lying nearby, gunfights, stabbings, fucking zombie apocalypse, but he still can’t talk to a pretty girl? Christ.

‘I need to get my brother,’ Lilly stands up, her voice suddenly strong and resolute.

‘We can help,’ Nick says quickly, ‘Mr Howie won’t let something like that happen, no way…’

Biting her lip, Lilly considers the options. Time is ticking away and pulling at her like a giant elastic band, urging her to move now and find Billy. But this man just shot three men, even with her battering him, and he seems to have a plan. She could use some help.

She told herself a few minutes ago that not everyone is bad, that people will help, and look what happened. Unsure of whether to trust her instinct she stares in shock as Nick walks towards her holding the pistol.

‘Take this,’ he offers, ‘have you used one before?’ She doesn't reply but stares at the gun. Black and solid looking, its familiar from watching so many movies and television shows, but so strange to see one in real life. Nick holds it out butt first, ‘you don’t have to trust me,’ he adds, ‘I wouldn’t trust anyone…take this and then you don’t have to trust anyone,’ he shrugs.

‘What about you?’ She asks, hesitating to take the gun.

‘I got my axe,’ he shrugs again, ‘and my knife.’

Taking the pistol she holds it in her hand, completely unsure of what to do with it. Nick digs into his pocket and draws the spare magazine out.

‘Here,’ he steps in closer. Absorbed in showing her how it works, he relaxes into his natural easy manner, ‘that’s the safety, keep it on until you need to use it…otherwise you’ll probably shoot yourself in the fucking…I mean the foot…sorry I didn’t mean to swear…’

‘It’s okay.’

‘Er…yeah so…this is how the magazine comes out and this is the other magazine, you push it in and…here can I show you? It’s easier to fucking see it…shit…sorry…Dave is always telling me off for swearing…’

‘Honestly, it’s okay.’

‘So it goes in like this, slide this back and it gets the first bullet from the from the magazine into the er…barrel and that’s it…have a go.’

‘Like this?’

‘Yep, that’s it…then push it back in really hard and pull the top back…yep got it…er…take the magazine back out.’

‘Okay, er…got it…’

‘Right, now point it away like over there and pull the trigger, go on…it’s empty,’ he adds as she screws her eyes shut and looks away. ‘See, that’s how much pressure you got to fucking….sorry…got to apply…try it a few times and hold it with both hands…are you right handed?’

‘Yes, like this?’

‘No er…keep your er…right hand on the grip and the left goes like this…er…’ Nick tries to position her hand the right way, moving in closer until his hand covers hers to move them to the right positions, ‘that’s it…two handed, as it kicks like a fucker when it goes bang…shit! Sorry…’

‘Don’t worry,’ Lilly says.

‘Try it with a bullet, so you know what it feels like…we can only use one as we don’t have a lot but…’

‘Oh, don’t worry then…’

‘No, you should know what it feels like,’ Nick replies, ‘get the magazine back in, yeah that’s it, slide the top…point away…see that window of that house…aim for that…don’t close your eyes and just relax and squeeze the trigger… well done! Good shot…fucking hell that was good.’

‘It kicks a lot,’ Lilly lowers the gun, then lifts it back up to push the safety on, ‘are you sure?’

‘What? Yeah course I am, you should have it…’ Nick nods firmly, distracted as he works at his belt to slide the holster off.

‘Do I need that?’ Lilly asks, ‘don’t they just go down here,’ she shoves the gun into the waistband of her jeans.

‘NO!’ Nick reaches to pull it out without thinking, ‘you’ll shoot your dick off…oh..shit..fuck I’m sorry…you don’t have a dick…oh my god!’ He goes bright red, staring in horror at the way his mouth keeps going while his brain is screaming to shut up.

Lilly laughs at the absurdity of it all. Surreal is not the word. He turns away from sheer embarrassment and slides the holster off before handing it over.

‘Thanks,’ Lilly holds the heavy gun in one hand and the holster in the other, ‘er…what do I do with it?’

‘Put it on your belt.’

‘I don’t have a belt.’

‘Oh, er…shit…um…fuck…wait here,’ he yells and runs off towards the nearest house, running up the path and into the open front door.

Staring after him, Lilly shakes her head in amazement. She looks down to see Todd is still clinging onto her legs, although at least he’s stopped crying now.

‘Todd,’ she drops down to face him, ‘that man, er…Nick?’ Todd nods slowly, ‘did he hurt you at all? Did he shout or do anything to you…Todd, you have to be honest now…’

‘No, he was nice,’ Todd mumbles, ‘he gave me a drink.’

‘Did he? That’s good, he didn’t hit you or shout or anything like that?’ Todd shakes his head, the snot hanging from his nose swaying side to side. Using her hand and used to snotty boys, Lilly wipes it away and flicks her hand to rid the sticky bogeys before wiping it on her jeans.

‘No belts!’ Nick shouts. Exiting the first house, he jumps the wall into the next garden and heads for the front door. Finding it shut and locked he pauses, then knocks. Standing back, he turns and nods to Lilly, waiting patiently in case anyone decides to answer.

‘No one home,’ Nick reports needlessly, ‘er…yeah…’ turning back he kicks at the front door, doing what Clarence taught them and aiming for the lock. It goes in easy enough and Nick offers a prayer to the gods of kicking-in-doors for not letting him look like a total twat.

Less than a minute later he runs out, clutching a belt like a triumphant warrior, ‘got one!’

‘Great,’ Lilly smiles. Handing the belt over, he stands there grinning away while she threads it through the loops on her jeans, then remembers the holster and pulls the belt back out of the loops to attach to the holster.

‘Ha,’ Nick snorts watching her fumble. Glancing up, she smiles at him and watches as he blushes again and finds something else to look at.

‘Ready,’ she says simply. Pushing the pistol into the holster she feels the re-assuring weight of it tugging on one side. She is armed now, armed with a gun that has bullets. If only she had this last night, things would have been so different. A lump of metal that makes other bits of metal fly out the end, that’s all it is. Knowing she could pull the pistol out and shoot someone right now sends a funny feeling through her. She’s fifteen years old, walking around with a gun and killed a man with an axe.

Breathing in deeply, she tries to settle her nerves. She is exhausted from lack of sleep, lack of food and the terrifying horrors she just witnessed but there isn’t time to rest now.

‘Just realised…’ Nick walks off towards the red van and retrieves the shotgun from the ground next to the body. He breaks it in half, checking the barrels are loaded before snapping it shut and mooching around in the cabin. Finding the box of shells he stuffs his pockets full.

Lilly watches the way he moves, the constant scanning as he lifts his head up slightly to check the area. His hands move quickly with a focussed, concentrated look.

‘Got this.’ Walking back he lifts the shotgun as though she might not have seen the big gun in his hands, ‘next, we need a fucking car and…shit! Sorry…’

‘Honestly don’t worry,’ Lilly says.

‘Yeah but you know,’ Nick nods at Todd, ‘I’ll really try not to swear…just tell me if I do okay?’

‘I don’t think he’s that worried.’

‘Maybe,’ Nick shrugs, ‘anyway, we need a car and then the town centre.’

‘The centre?’ Lilly asks, ‘why?’

‘That’s where we got split up last night, everyone will be heading there to wait so we can get back to the fort.’

‘Sorry what?’ Lilly snaps, her keen eyes locking on Nick.

‘What?’ Nick stares back, momentarily mesmerised by the blue eyes before glancing away.

‘Fort? What fort?’

‘Oh sorry, yeah we got a fort, er…on the coast…er…south,’ he trails off again.

‘That’s where we were heading,’ Lilly sighs, ‘the place with the army.’ She rolls at her eyes at Nick as if it suddenly makes sense.

‘Not quite the army,’ Nick mumbles, ‘we did have a lot more but…’ A dark look flashes across his face, his voice dropping in tone, ‘but things went wrong…we got some more people now…’

Lilly stares back, detecting the sadness in his manner. Nodding softly, she waits for him to lead the way, checking to make sure Todd is okay.

‘We’d better go,’ Nick nods, ‘find a car and…’

‘That van has loads of food in it,’ Lilly nods to the vehicle behind Nick, ‘those men were going from house to house stripping all the food out…I saw it…’

‘Really? Fuck…might as well have it then…nice one,’ he grins with a sudden easy motion that lifts his features completely. ‘We’ll get your brother, I promise…we just gotta find Mr Howie and the others first.’

Nodding, Lilly takes Todd’s hand and starts walking towards the van. This is the third time within the last few hours that she trusted someone else. Norman in the forest and being groped, then these two men and now Nick. He seems genuine and nice, and he does keep blushing and looking away shyly.

Patting the gun on her belt she walks on, knowing this time she’ll be keeping a very watchful eye on everyone.

Twenty Six

‘Where is everyone?’ Blowers frets again.

‘They’ll be here,’ Lani re-assures him. The roles have switched, with Lani moving to the role of calming the other two while they get increasingly worried.

‘Something must have happened,’ Cookey shakes his head, ‘they’d be back by now…it’s been hours.

‘Maybe Clarence has already found a load and taken them back,’ Lani suggests.

‘No way,’ Blowers says dully, ‘he’d come here first.’

‘This place fucking stinks,’ Cookey grumbles, ‘fucking stinks of fucking dirty fucking dead fucking zombies and dirty fucking fire…’ Turning round he once more, stares with disgust at the scene of carnage all around them. Bodies fester in the staggering heat, flies and insects buzzing between them. Pools of blood congeal into crusty scabs, unrecognisable body parts start shrivelling as though in an oven.

‘I know,’ Lani replies softly, ‘maybe we should walking then, stay on the main road and…’

‘We can’t,’ Blowers shakes his head, ‘if the others come here they won’t know where we are.’

‘Leave a note then,’ Lani suggests again.

‘Where? What pinned to one of them? Dear everyone we got fed up waiting so we’re going to…’

‘Blowers,’ Cookey shoots his mate a dark look in reaction to his bitter tone.

Breathing slowly the hard faced young man dips his head. ‘Sorry,’ he mutters.

‘Forget it,’ Lani says, ‘heat…bodies…fire…this is a shit place…’

‘Whoa! Lani just swore,’ Cookey jokes feebly, ‘she must be getting mad.’ The joke falls flat as their surroundings start sucking the life from them. They still all feel that Howie and Dave are okay, but they aren’t back yet. They should be here by now. The feeling must be wrong, something has happened.

‘YO!’ Jagger walk quickly towards them.

‘What?’ Blowers snaps impatiently.

‘Hear that?’

‘No, what?’ Blowers stands up, his face suddenly focussed and interested.

‘Van, diesel engine…’ Jagger cocks his head to one side.

‘What!’ Cookey stares at him, ‘I can’t hear anything.’

‘He’s right bruv,’ Mohammed steps in, ‘Jagger got some freaky fucking hearing skills going on.’

‘Transit,’ Jagger nods, ‘big fucking transit van coming this way.

‘Yeah,’ Lani nods, ‘I got it…yeah I can hear it…’

‘Really?’ Cookey looks about, spotting the dog now standing up with her head cocked to one side. Shoving fingers into his ears he wriggles them about before trying again. ‘Can’t hear anything,’ he shrugs.

‘You’s deaf bruv,’ Mohammed comments.

‘Yeah I got it,’ Blowers nods.

‘What the fuck?’ Cookey takes a couple of steps forward, as though decreasing the distance by a few feet will aid his hearing.

Finally, the sound reaches him. The low throaty rumble of a diesel engine rattling along the roads comes closer. Used by delivery companies and workmen all over the world, the sound is intrinsic part of what modern life was.

When it appears at the far end of the main road, the youths start to gather round Lani, Blowers and Cookey. Talking ends as they all watch with interest, none of the recognising the vehicle.

‘You got your pistols?’ Blowers asks in a low voice, already noting that Cookey has drawn his to hold low and ready.

‘Is that…’ Cookey takes another step forward, squinting as presses the side of his palm to his forehead to reduce the glare of the sun,. ‘Yeah…’ he laughs, ‘that’s Clarence!’

‘Is it?’ Blowers steps forward, doing the same as his friend. The big bald head is unmistakable, the broad grin that spreads across the drivers face even more so.

‘Where’s the Saxon?’

‘Dunno,’ Cookey shakes his head, ‘big bloody van though,’ he adds at seeing the size of the extra-long jumbo sized van.

Coming up the road, Clarence notices the size of the group gathered there and feels a sense of relief that they all had the sense to wait.

Getting closer, he starts picking faces out. Lani, Blowers, Cookey and the dog are instantly recognisable. No sign of Howie or Dave and no Nick either. The grin starts to fade as he brings the speed down, leaning forward to scan the group. With the time it took him to find another vehicle, get back to the Saxon and transfer all the kit, means everyone should have been back here.

The delay just added to the growing sense of frustration and urgency. Knowing that the fort is occupied by another armed group, he knows that he has to get the group back there as quickly as possible.

‘Where are they?’ All greeting pushed aside, Clarence jumps down to shout the question while striding forward. The initial relief at seeing some of the group alive has faded, as he now starts to worry why the others aren’t back as well.

‘Don’t know,’ Lani looks sick, the composure she held before now slipping at the sight of the older, more experienced man.

‘Where’s Nick?’ Cookey asks, stepping round to see if another vehicle is coming up behind.

‘He went with them,’ Clarence points to the children standing nearby, ‘we were bugging out, all hell breaking lose…’

‘What?’ Blowers exclaims, ‘what the fuck?’ Spinning to face Jagger his face crosses with anger, ‘why didn’t you fucking say?’

‘I didn’t know,’ Jagger replies looking confused, ‘we thought he went with you,’ he says to Clarence.

‘No, we were getting swamped…he went off with you lot.’

‘Was chaos bruv,’ Mohammed pipes up, ‘everyone legged it every direction…pitch fucking black too.’

‘So Nick is missing too? What about the boss and Dave?’ Clarence asks.

‘No sign of them,’ Lani replies.

‘Have you searched?’

‘Yes we’ve searched,’ Lani says.

‘Have you searched properly?’

‘Clarence! We’ve searched every inch of it, and checked all these bodies too…they’re not here.’ Lani’s voice grows stronger with frustration, the worry now evident on her face.

‘We figured they’d be back by now,’ Cookey shrugs, ‘We didn’t know Nick was gone, we thought he got out with you…shit…shit…’

‘Alright,’ Clarence forces his tone to be calm as he senses the rising panic, ‘we’ll find them…don’t worry. Dave went after Howie…’ He stops to think for a second, replaying the fight from the previous night through his mind, ‘he went into the vehicle ramp, that’s the last I saw of him.’

‘Who?’ Blowers asks, ‘the boss or Dave?’

‘The boss, Dave was going that way…he shouted for light, yes! He shouted for lights so we put the headlights on…remember?’

‘Not really,’ Cookey shakes his head, ‘we were at the door to the stairs.’

‘I heard it,’ Lani nods quickly, ‘if Dave shouted for lights he must have seen something.’

‘…Then got Mr Howie out,’ Blowers takes the train of speech up, ‘but where? And why aren’t they…’

‘More problems now too,’ Clarence interrupts, ‘fort’s been taken over.’

‘What?’ Blowers shouts.

‘We got back, some bloke with a gun was outside and the gates were all locked up. We got into the first gate but that was it…’

‘Who are they? What? I don’t…’ Blowers demands.

‘Don’t know, don’t know anything…’ Clarence explains, ‘left Maddox there with Paula and Roy, I came back here for you lot.’

‘Fucking hell!’ Cookey groans, ‘what the fuck? Why does this keep happening?’

‘We’ll deal with it,’ Blowers growls, ‘we gotta find the others first, the fort can wait.’

‘Agreed,’ Lani nods firmly, ‘why wouldn’t they come back here? What would stop them? We need to think clearly so we can figure out where to look.’

‘The boss could be injured somewhere,’ Cookey suggests, ‘Dave looking after him.’

‘They wouldn’t get lost,’ Blowers adds quickly, ‘same with Nick, they’d know to come back here.’

‘Nick can’t read,’ Cookey says quietly.

‘So? What difference does that make?’ Blowers snaps.

‘He can’t read the road signs, what if he legged it really far away? Or got chased or something?’

‘The fucking High Street is burning down,’ Blowers exclaims.

‘There isn’t that much smoke,’ Clarence cuts in, ‘not really…it looks worse from here but I didn’t see it until a few minutes before I got here.’

‘Fuck, so he could be lost then…no way, not Nick…’ Blowers shakes his head, refusing to accept the possibility.

‘He’d go south for the fort,’ Lani says, ‘they all would if they couldn’t get back here or…I don’t know… something’s stopped them.’

‘Okay,’ Clarence growls, his deep voice grabbing everyone’s attention, ‘the plan…you lot get back to the fort,’ he points at Jagger and Mohammed, ‘take this van and get them back, we’ll stay here and start looking.’

‘Plenty of cars about,’ Cookey says quickly, ‘we’ll grab a couple and drive about.’

‘Good,’ Clarence snaps, ‘do that…can you lads drive that van?’

‘You’re joking right mate?’ Mohammed says as he rolls his eyes.

‘No time for jokes son,’ Clarence glares, ‘get your lot back to the fort. Wait at the estate and make sure it’s safe to go down…do not just drive down, you understand? Good, tell Maddox and the rest we’re going to find Howie and our team then we’ll come back. If any of them get there, tell them to wait…understand? Don’t let them come looking for us, it’ll get confusing otherwise. Tell them to wait until we get back….got it?’

‘Yeah course,’ Jagger nods seriously.

‘You two,’ Clarence points one thick gnarled finger at Jagger and Mohammed, ‘are in charge of that lot,’ he motions the group behind them, ‘you get them back safely and no fucking about on the way.’

‘Yeah,’ Jagger continues to nod, sensing this isn’t the time for flippant remarks or stupid comments.

‘Go then. Lani you’re with me. Lads,’ Clarence turns to Blowers and Cookey, ‘you two together in a car and searching, windows down and drive slow…’

‘Radios?’ Blowers asks.

‘FUCK IT!’ Clarence roars making everyone jump back, ‘they’re in the Saxon…I didn’t get them.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Lani says softly, ‘we’ll meet back here in two hours, agreed?’ She looks at the two lads nodding, ‘two hours from now whatever happens we all meet back here…’

‘And don’t touch any of our kit in that van,’ Clarence glowers down at the children traipsing past him.

Waiting for the others to squeeze into the van, and then watching the minor squabble between Jagger and Mohammed over who will drive the van, they stand quietly each absorbed in their own thoughts and worries. That pervading feeling of being separated nags stronger as time wears on. The bond between them, so strong and seemingly unbreakable, now feels under threat. The saving grace, the one thing they each cling on to, is that Dave would never let anything happen to Howie, and Nick is very switched on and highly capable.

They’ll be okay.

Please, let them be ok.

Twenty Seven

‘Jesus…I’m fucked…no more…please…even you’re sweating now Dave.’

‘Yes,’ his voice just one pitch lower than normal. That and the sweat are the only signs that he’s having any difficulty at all.

‘How? Just fucking how?’

‘How what Mr Howie?’

‘How can a little girl keep going like that?’

‘Well…’

‘Dave, it was a rhetorical question…you don’t have to answer it. Were you like this?’

‘Like what?’

‘Like that girl?’

‘I’m a boy Mr Howie.’

‘No Dave, I mean could you run like that and never ever need to pissing well stop and rest.’

‘Yes,’ he answers firmly.

‘Then we’re fucked.’

‘We’ll catch her Mr Howie.’

‘When? Today? Next week? She’s playing with us. She’s more evil than Darren and Marcy and all the fucking smart bastard zombies  put together.’

‘I don’t think she’s evil Mr Howie.’

‘No? Why is she not stopping then?’

‘Scared?’ He ventures.

‘Scared? Fuck off! She bit my hand and kicked me in the bollocks…then runs off and leaves two glasses of water for us.’

‘A game then?’

‘A game?! A fucking game? What kind of game is this? Really? Tell me? I want to know what kind of game this is?’

‘Mr Howie.’

‘Yes Dave.’

‘You are starting to rant.’

‘I know!’

‘Okay,’ he shrugs, ‘just thought I would mention it.’

‘Right, so,’ I take a breath and let the sweat pour down my face, ‘if that was you running from us, what would it take to make you stop?’

‘Getting caught,’ he answers instantly.

‘Helpful,’ I comment drily.

‘You asked,’ he shrugs again.

‘Other than getting caught?’

‘Injury or getting trapped.’

‘As much as right now I hate her…I hope she doesn't get injured. As for trapping, we could do that if we knew which way she was going…but seeing as she’s ahead of us all the time we can’t do that either.’

‘No.’

‘No.’

‘That’s what I said Mr Howie.’

‘I know, I was repeating it as in, yeah I agreed with you.’

‘Oh, okay.’

‘Keep going then,’ I sigh, a long drawn exhalation of breath. A little girl. Small and sweet in a summer dress, but judging by the state of the house she was in, she’ll also be covered in shit and filth. We can’t leave her. Leaving her now, as much as wish to, just isn’t an option.

Another day gone to rat shit, and it started so nicely too. Waking up rested, having a coffee and watching Dave slaughter loads of undead,. What could be better? But oh no, it’s has to fuck up within the mandatory twenty minutes doesn't it.

Somebody up there is watching all of this and clearly thinking oh look, Howie and his merry bunch of men, and Lani, have woke up. Now, what shit can I throw at them today. Maybe I should just make it rain actual shit. Big, stinky, wet turds falling from the sky. No, I know…I will make that innocent little girl run and run all day long while they try and catch her.

‘Turds?’ Dave looks at me.

‘What?’

‘How can it rain turds?’

I stare at him. I said all that in my head, I am sure I said that in my head.

‘Dave?’

‘Yes?’

‘Was I speaking out loud?’

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

‘Like properly out loud, you know…words coming out of my actual mouth.’

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

‘I don’t think I was Dave.’

‘You were.’

‘I was thinking it but not saying it.’

‘You said it.’

‘Hmmm,’ looking away I ponder the idea that either I am losing the plot completely or Dave lives inside my head. I don’t know which option is scarier.

‘Mr Howie.’

‘What?’

‘Why did you just pinch my arm?’

‘Just checking.’

‘Checking what?’

‘That you’re not imaginary.’

‘Okay.’

‘You’re not are you?’

‘Imaginary? No.’

‘How would we know? I mean, if you are figment of my imagination then pinching your arm could just be another, like mirage or something…’

‘I’m not imaginary.’

‘Really?’

‘Really. I am not imaginary.’

‘Prove it.’

‘How?’

‘I don’t know, do something unexpected.’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know…if I told you then it would be in my head wouldn’t it, and you would do it anyway…what are you doing?’

‘Jumping.’

‘Why?’

‘You told me to do something unexpected.’

‘Oh yeah, I did didn’t I. Okay, fair enough mate, cheers for that.’

‘Okay Mr Howie…MILLY!’

‘Fuck Dave…’

‘Sorry Mr Howie, I didn’t warn you…I am now going to shout for Milly…okay?’

‘Bit late to warn me after the fact mate.’

‘MILLY,’ he roars ignoring my comment, ‘PLEASE STOP RUNNING.’

‘What?’ I ask him as he cocks his head to one side.

‘Nothing,’ he answers too quickly with a slight worried look on his face.

‘Dave, what?’

‘She’s laughing.’

‘What?’

‘I heard her laugh.’

‘Laughing.’

‘Yes.’

‘At us?’

‘I don’t know what she is laughing at, but she laughed.’

‘She laughed?’

‘Yes.’

‘You heard that?’

‘I did.’

‘Tell her this isn’t a game…tell her this is serious and she must come back right now or she will be in lots of trouble…’ Taking a hasty step away as Dave bellows into the air, I try to bite down a flare of righteous anger and have to admit my pride is starting to get seriously dented.

This time even I hear it. The distant giggle of a little girl who finds something funny. Not creepy ,like a horror movie or anything like that. In fact, it’s a nice sound and at any other time I would be smiling at hearing it.

‘Right, we need a cunning plan.’

‘There are none Mr Howie.’

‘I know.’

‘If there was a plan I would have done it by now.’

‘I know. It just made me feel better saying it.’

‘We just have to keep running after her.’

‘I know.’

So we do. We keep running and running. I’ve lost track of the streets and the direction. All I know is that we’re heading further away from the town and closer to the countryside.

The girl has skills. Not taught or probably even skills that she is aware of.  She has survived this long on her own. Yes she’s been eating shit junk food but she had the gumption to at least eat and stay close to home. Even now with running like this, she’s deviating the route and going through houses. The glasses trick has been repeated a few times. Dave and I staggering into a house, well me staggering and Dave jogging lightly, to find one glass emptied and two full ones next to the sink. As a point of principle I don’t want to drink the water, but we do. We down it thankfully and very gratefully before setting off again.

Both of us take turns in shouting out, calling and begging her to come back and to stop running.  A couple of times Dave has run ahead, confident at being able to catch her on his own with his exceptional speed and agility. Couple of minutes later I come chugging round the corner to find him standing there, scratching his head with an expression of how did that happen?

Jesus, no wonder the undead haven’t got her. They probably tried for a few nights then gave up to find an easier target, staggering away all grumbling and sulky at being out-foxed by a little girl.

Which is what I want to do right now. Except, like I said, we can’t. The junk food will run out soon and guessing at the state she’s in, well the state of her bedroom and the house, she could get any number of diseases. The streets are littered with rotting corpses, which doesn't seem to bother her, but they will also be spreading diseases.

There is no choice. No person with a conscious could walk away and leave her.

Street after street, house after house, garden fences, another house and back into the street. It’s also hampered by the fact that so many of the houses have ruined front doors, so unless we catch a sight of her we don’t know which one she’s run into and have to wait and listen, prowling quietly for the creaking of a fence, or a back door being opened.

‘Getting near open land,’ Dave observes as we jog along. Looking up, I can see what he means by the absence of roof tops and houses.

‘Hopefully,’ I pant, gasping the word out, ‘she’ll go that way.’ Open land with nowhere to hide. She doesn't stand a chance against Dave in the open; even I might be able to catch her on open, flat run.

‘There,’ Dave points. A vehicle moves slowly across the junction at the far end of the street. Without thinking, I draw my pistol and loose a shot into the air, causing Dave to snap his head round at me in shock.

‘It’s the others,’ I blurt out hoping the gunshot didn’t scare the girl. Hopefully, she won’t know what a gunshot is and just think it’s a loud bang.

‘Might not be.’ His face morphs into a serious expression, which is the same as all the other expressions. Except I know Dave now, and I can tell the difference. It’s just a subtle change in the way his eyebrows lower, his eyes narrow and he becomes more focussed.

‘It is,’ I reply flatly. I don’t know how I know it is them, but the vehicle reverses back into sight and stops. One of the doors opens and something long, big and black jumps out.

‘Meredith!’

‘HERE,’ Dave booms and even from this distance I can see the dogs immediate reaction as she spins round and locks on. Then she’s off, head low and ears flattened as she sprints flat out towards us. With all thought of the girl gone, we both start running with a big grin spreading across my face.

My god she is fast and she covers the ground within seconds. She bounds up to us with high pitched barks of excitement. When we meet she goes nuts, running round our legs while making little yelping noises as her tail wags faster than helicopter rotor blades.

Both of us drop down to give her fuss, rubbing her head and back as she snakes round and round. Looking up, I can see the vehicle has manoeuvred to head up the street towards us. The unmistakable shiny, bald head of Clarence is behind the drivers wheel with one huge arm waving out the window.

With the dog jumping at us and yelping in glee, I miss seeing who else is in the vehicle until it comes to a stop and both front doors open up. The sight of Lani running towards me makes my heart drop through my stomach and I’m off, running towards her while my axe clatters to the ground.

She rushes into my arms and the sudden warmth of her, the contact, is spellbinding. Her strong, lithe arms wrap round my neck, pulling me close as I do the same. I literally lift her off her feet to spin her round.

‘I thought something had happened,’ she sobs into my neck, the wet tears pouring down her face, ‘I was so scared…why didn’t you come back?’

‘Lani…’

‘Don’t do that again, not ever…you hear me…’

‘I won’t.’

‘Promise Howie…you promise me…’

‘I promise Lani…not ever…’ We cling on tight and right now, at this very second, nothing else matters. The world can do what it wants; it can go to hell as I am holding the woman I love in my arms.

‘Are you okay?’ I gasp as my own tears stream down my face to mingle with hers.

‘Fine, fine…are you crying?’

‘I don’t care, yes…yes I am…’

‘I’m crying,’ she half laughs and sobs again. Lani is a tough woman, of that there is no doubt. She is like Dave in so many ways, holding a straight face and voicing her opinions. She laughs easily and is stunningly beautiful but she is also incredibly smart and not afraid to voice her opinions. This can make her intimidating at times but I feel all that melting now, the raw emotion pouring from her is so beautiful and so strong it takes my breath away.

‘I came after you…I tried Howie…’

‘It’s okay,’ I whisper softly.

‘I lost you,’ she cries again, ‘I couldn’t find you…’

‘I’m here Lani, right here.’

‘What happened? It’s so hard not to kiss you Howie.’

‘Kiss me then.’

‘I can’t…don’t Howie…what happened? Where did you go?’

‘Lani, look at me…’ Her brown eyes lock onto mine, the red tinge from crying adding to the softness and love coming from her. ‘I’m immune,’ I whisper.

She doesn't reply but stares in wonder. Pure shock crosses her face as she blinks slowly and swallows,. ‘What?’ she gasps but I don’t reply. Instead, I gently move my mouth towards hers. She stares at me in disbelief at first, like it’s some sick joke that will play out but at the last inch she melts, closes her eyes and moves in until our lips touch.

The soft, tender feel is beyond words. The contact, the connection, the chemistry that fires and releases inside of me is intense. All I know is that it feels amazing. Totally and utterly amazing. Just lips touching, that’s it, but it’s so much more than that and I truly hope she can feel the love pouring from me.

Tenderness evolves into passion as the kiss becomes harder, like something we have been denying ourselves that we can now have. Our tongues probe gently with loving caress as we wrap our arms more firmly round each other.

Breaking away, her eyes remain closed for long seconds until slowly they flicker open. Pupils dilated and warmth emanating from them as an easy grin stretches across her face.

‘Ahem,’ Clarence says pointedly, ‘did you just say immune?’

‘Yeah,’ I nod, still looking down at Lani and not wanting the moment to end.

‘Oh right, nothing important then,’ he remarks.

Finally I have to step away, both of suddenly conscious of being in front of Dave and Clarence. Clumsily, I go to retrieve my dropped axe and start to worry until Dave holds it up for me.

‘Cheers mate.’

‘Immune?’ Clarence prompts with forced patience. Lani just stares at me with her head shaking slightly side to side.

‘Only you,’ she says softly, ‘only you could get taken like that and walk away.’

Chuckling self-consciously, I check the axe head and start to explain what happened. Most of it they know, about the circling motion of the undead and getting drawn in. After that, the bit with the fight and then the heart being shoved into my mouth they didn’t know.

As I tell them, Lani stares at me in fascinated interest which slowly blends into horror at the thought that she just kissed a man who only hours before had a still beating zombie heart rammed in his gob.

‘That,’ she spits, ‘is disgusting…’ She spits again, ‘you could have said something.’

‘What?’ I ask just a little offended at the way she keeps spitting.

‘Oh I don’t know,’ she snaps, ‘maybe Hey Lani, nice to see you. I would kiss you  but I had this still beating heart IN MY MOUTH.’

‘Well it’s not there now is it,’ I exclaim.

‘Have you brushed your teeth? And if you have then how? Because your toothbrush was in your bag, which was in the Saxon.’ Another looks of horror crosses her face, ‘don’t tell me you used someone else brush?’ She steps away and spits again.

‘No!’

‘No you didn’t brush or no you didn’t use someone else’s?’

‘No I er…didn’t brush,’ I mutter as Clarence starts looking at me with distaste while shaking his head.

‘Gross boss,’ he rumbles.

‘I used mouthwash,’ I shrug sulkily.

‘Did you?’ Dave asks, ‘I didn’t see any.’

‘Cheers Dave,’ I groan.

‘Oh Howie,’ Lani says, ‘urgh, there could have been bits of heart in your mouth.’

‘Don’t be daft! Anyway, I used toothpaste and my finger so…’

‘Well that makes it alright then,’ she still shakes her head. ‘Listen, I’m glad you’re okay, really I am…I love you Howie but that,’ she grimaces, ‘was gross.’

‘You love me?’ I ask with a big grin.

‘Yes!’ She laughs, ‘but I am not kissing you again.’

‘Hear that?’ I face Clarence, ‘she loves me.’

‘She does,’ he nods, ‘but that was disgusting. I would have punched you if you kissed me.’

‘Really? Wanna try it?’ I take a step forward with my mouth puckered up ready.

‘Fuck off!’ He steps back quickly.

‘Howie, we’re missing Nick,’ Lani cuts in, the humour gone in an instant.

‘Eh?’

‘Nick, he’s missing.’

‘What? What happened?’

So they tell their story, of how Clarence and Nick got out with the Saxon and the youths, while Lani got stuck on the levels searching for me. On the road out, they got swamped to the point of being overrun so everyone had to starburst and run, including Nick.

Then Clarence hits home with the double whammy, telling me about the fort being occupied by another group.

Dave and I listen intently, absorbing all the information quietly until they’ve finished.

‘Right.’ I switch on and down to business, ‘Blowers and Cookey are looking for him yeah?’

‘And you, we’ve got to meet them back at the car park.’

‘Okay, so Nick ran off into this town somewhere. Knowing Nick, he would choose a safe place for the night then sleep for hours, especially if there was no one there to wake him up. We find Nick then get down to the fort.’

‘The girl Mr Howie,’ Dave prompts.

‘Girl?’ Lani asks.

‘Shit, the girl, fuck it. Right, that throws another spanner in the works.’

‘What girl?’ Lani asks again.

‘Little girl, we saw her running off earlier. She’s just a tiny thing so we went after her. Her house is a complete shit tip with actual shit everywhere. Poor little bugger has been living on junk food. Doesn't look like she’s washed or changed her clothes either.’ Both of them make faces while I pause for breath, ‘anyway, turns out she’s like some distant relation to Dave…’

‘Really?’ Clarence glances at the small quiet man.

‘No, not really but she bloody should be as we can’t catch her. We’ve been chasing her for hours now, she just keeps running.’

‘Like a game,’ Dave adds.

‘Yeah, and,’ I point emphatically, ‘she keeps running through houses and out the back but get this, she puts two glasses of water out for us.’

‘No way,’ Lani leans forward in surprise.

‘Yep, just heard her laughing a minute ago too.’

‘Hasn’t Dave got her?’ Clarence asks.

‘Nope, not even Dave,’ I say with a furtive look at Dave who chooses that second to glance away. ‘I did grab her but er…well she bit my hand and kicked me in the bollocks before running off again…what? That isn’t funny Lani.’

‘It is,’ she laughs, ‘serves you right for kissing me with a dirty mouth.’

‘I’m struggling here,’ Clarence rubs one big hand over his big bald head, ‘so you’re immune, we’re missing Nick and now we’ve got a little girl to catch…oh and the fort has been taken over…’

‘Yeah,’ I nod, ‘that’s about it mate.’

‘I need some sleep,’ he moans.

‘You not had any?’

‘No, oh yeah…by the way,’ he mentions casually, ‘the Saxon is fucked too.’

‘Oh what?’

‘Broke down on the way back, I got a van back here but that was it. It’s left in some shitty little town.’

‘Did you strip….’

‘Yes Dave,’ Clarence growls, ‘I stripped it.’

‘Good.’

‘Easy,’ I step in at the glare from Clarence, ‘another busy day then,’ I comment.

‘Still,’ Lani beams at me, ‘you’re immune! Oh my god Howie…did you pass it to me when we kissed before?’

‘You could have passed it to me?’ I reply.

‘So have we got to kiss everyone else? I’m not sure they’ll mind doing that with me, but you?’

‘I’m not kissing you,’ Dave says quickly, ‘either of you.’

‘No offence boss,’ Clarence agrees.

‘Truth is we don’t know anything more now than we did before. We could be uniquely immune, resistant, carriers…fuck knows…Either of us could have passed immunity to the other but that doesn't mean we can pass it on again…’

‘Still fucked then,’ Clarence says.

‘Yep, business as bloody usual really.’

‘Until we find a doctor,’ Lani prompts, ‘that has to be a priority now.’

‘Funny that,’ I smile, ‘that’s kind of what we’ve been trying to do for days now.’

‘True,’ she nods. ‘I am so happy to see you again.”

‘Oh stop it,’ Clarence grumbles, ‘have we got to put up with you two going all gooey now?’

‘Gooey?’ I ask.

‘Yeah gooey.’ He shrugs, which is like watching two massive bowling balls raise a few inches before plummeting back to earth at terminal velocity.

‘Plan?’ Dave brings us all back to reality.

‘Right, Lani stays with us to help find this girl. Clarence can you head back to find Blowers and Cookey and bring them back here. We get the girl, get everyone together and then find Nick who will no doubt be fast asleep in some comfy bed somewhere the lazy shit. Once we’ve done that we’ll go find the Saxon, figure out what’s wrong with it…which Nick can hopefully do, then go rescue the fort. Ha! No problem.’

‘Jesus, you’re happy,’ Lani says.

‘I am,’ I grin, ‘the sun is shining and I just had a big, wet kiss with a beautiful girl.’

‘Don’t remind me,’ she spits again ruining the moment.

‘If you’re chasing this girl?’ Clarence asks, ‘how will we find you?’

‘We’ll break car windscreens,’ Dave says flatly, ‘follow them.’

‘Got it,’ the big man says, ‘dog staying with you?’

‘She could get the girl,’ Dave says looking down at Meredith taking a piss a few feet away.

‘No Dave, we can’t send a dog after a little girl.’

‘She wouldn’t hurt her,’ he replies.

‘You sure?’

‘Yes, I am,’ he says firmly.

‘Well what good would it do then?’

‘She could bark and tell us where she is.’

‘And she’s trained to do that is she?’ I ask.

‘Maybe,’ he mutters.

‘Clarence, can you take the dog with you,’ I ask before he climbs into the car.

‘Keep her,’ he replies, ‘Dave’s right, she wouldn’t go for a child. She’s had plenty of chances and she hasn’t done anything like that yet, she loves kids by the looks of it.’

‘Hmmm, yeah okay then.’

‘I’ll keep her with me,’ Lani says.

‘Right,’ I straighten up, ‘where is she?’

Twenty Eight

Red everywhere. Red from the blood spilled on the ground. Red from the bodies split open and torn apart. Red flames that eat into the buildings they consume.

The red van matches the scene, like it belongs there as one of the varying shades of death. Nick stands at the rear with his hands on his hips staring round.

Lilly walks slowly towards him, having told Todd to remain in the front of the van with his eyes closed to shield him from the scene of utter carnage.

‘No one here,’ Nick comments quietly.

Lilly stares in awe struck wonder at the scale of the battle. Bodies stretched out in every direction and killed in every way possible. Limbs strewn about like twigs, heads separated from bodies, torsos with innards hanging out, thick layers of corpses with spent shell casings glittering in the bright sun. The stench is something never known before. Rotting, charred meat mixed with the metallic tang of blood and chemical smoke from the burning High Street.

‘They should be here,’ Nick turns round, the first real signs of worry evident on his face.

‘Maybe they went,’ Lilly speaks softly, hardly daring to break the silence of this oppressive area.

‘No,’ shaking his head, ‘they’d wait here…’

‘But they’re not,’ Lilly states the obvious. The urge to do something to find her brother nags constantly at her. She can see he wasn’t lying, the bodies and the fires are testament to that. The bullet cases indicate fierce fighting too, but he also said they would be waiting for him.

‘Nick, I can’t wait,’ Lilly says.

‘But they should be here,’ he repeats, ‘they’d know we’d come back.’

‘Something must have happened,’ she replies. ‘Maybe they went to the fort.’

‘Maybe,’ he sighs, ‘there’d be a reason. They wouldn’t just fucking leave me here.’

‘What do you want to do?’ She asks. Staring from the side she can see the concern etched into his face, the way he stares about as if he will find his mates any second.

Shrugging he carries on looking, staring for any sign that they were here. ‘I don’t know…fort I guess…fuck it…why didn’t they wait?’

‘How do you know they came back here?’

‘Because…just because that’s what we’d do…We’ve never been spilt up before but I know that that is what they would do …’

‘But you think they’re okay?’ She asks softly.

‘Yes I do,’ he replies firmly, ‘yeah I don’t know how, but yeah…fucking yes…there’s no way they’d all get…’

‘Okay,’ she steps closer to him, ‘Nick, you stay here if you want...I’ve got to find Billy.’

‘We need the others first.’

‘They’re not here Nick and I can’t wait…’

‘Lilly, I know they’d come back but it’s already late and…’

‘Then something must have happened. Go to the fort and find them…listen Nick, thank you for everything you’ve done but…’

‘You can’t go on your own,’ he turns to face her, ‘you can’t do that.’

‘I don’t have a choice,’ she shrugs, ‘he’s my brother.’

‘What about Todd? You can’t take him with you…No…we have to find the others first.’

‘Nick, thank you but I have to find him…anything could happen…’

‘Mr Howie can…’

‘He’s not here though,’ Lilly cuts him off, her tone kind but firm. ‘Keep the van, I can find something else but er…can I keep the gun please? I’ll bring it back once I’ve got Billy.’

‘No,’ Nick shakes his head.

‘What do you mean?’ Lilly feels the first nagging worry, ‘Nick, I have to go,’ she takes a step back creating distance between them.

‘Eh?’ Nick stares at her confused, seeing the hard look cross her face. ‘Take your bloody hand off that gun…’ he sighs, ‘I didn’t mean I was going to stop you.’

‘You can’t stop me,’ she says firmly.

‘I don’t want to fucking stop you,’ he says quickly, ‘I just meant you can’t do it on your own.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Did you go to public school?’ He asks suddenly, ‘you speak really nice and posh.’

‘What? What relevance does that have?’

Shrugging he looks away, ‘just asking,’ he blushes at the stern rebuke.

Seeing his face flushing she softens, realising he wasn’t trying to force her into something. ‘Yes, yes I went to a private school before my dad was made bankrupt…’

‘Shit really?’

‘Yes really,’ she looks down at the memory of her father, of the way his body blew apart from the shotgun blast. ‘Look, you might be used to this,’ she starts speaking quickly, ‘all this…this death, but up until yesterday we were hiding at home…’

‘Lilly…’

‘My dad was killed last night,’ she chokes on the tears, ‘and Sam was raped and…and…I saw it all happen and now Billy is…’

‘It’s okay,’ Nick moves in as the tears start pouring down her face.

‘I can’t…’ she gasps, roughly trying to wipe the tears away with the back of her hand, ‘I’m so tired and I’ve got to find Billy…’

‘Okay,’ Nick says softly.

‘No it’s not okay,’ she snaps, ‘it’s not okay at all…not at all…’ she weeps hard and quick, the tears streaming down her face.

Instinct moves Nick close and sends his arms around her. Stroking her back, Nick stays quiet for a few minutes, letting the girl weep without words.

‘We’ll find him,’ he says eventually, ‘I promise…we’ll find your brother.’

‘How? I can’t do it…but I’ll have to…I can’t wait Nick.’

‘It’s okay, come on…it’s going to be okay…I’ll come with you, we’ll go together.’

‘But you said,’ she sniffs.

‘I’ll come with you,’ Nick repeats, ‘this is our way, that’s what Mr Howie would say.’

‘What?’

‘Our way, this is our way of doing things,’ he explains, ‘you can’t leave someone on their own like this…’

‘You don’t have to,’ she regains some composure, her voice strengthening in resolve but she doesn't move away. The warmth and contact from another person, from someone tall and strong with a soft voice and a calm manner, is needed too much to break away.

‘I will,’ he says firmly, ‘I’m coming and that’s fucking that.’

‘You do swear a lot,’ she comments in a quiet voice.

‘I know, Dave keeps telling me off for it. If it wasn’t for Cookey fucking up all the time I’d be making the brews for the rest of my life.’

‘They sound nice, the people you keep talking about.’

‘They are, they’re the best,’ Nick replies without shame or embarrassment.

‘I’m so scared,’ she admits. With her eyes screwed tightly closed she presses against him, feeling the warmth of his body against hers. His voice is deep like a man and he speaks so kindly to her that she is reluctant to move away from the safety of his arms.

‘That’s normal,’ Nick strokes her back, the scent of her hair filling his nose as he feels an overwhelming sense of shame that someone like this has to experience all of this death and carnage. He and his team have been doing it since the first day, since it happened, and they’ve had each other to rely on and stick with. She only came out yesterday and already her life has been ripped apart. ‘Lilly, I promise you…I will do whatever it takes to find your brother…I promise.’

‘Thank you,’ she whispers.

‘Come on, we’ll do it now.’

‘Don’t you want to wait longer?’ She steps back, looking up at the dark haired young man with kindness pouring from his eyes.

‘No, they’ll be okay…’

‘You should leave a note,’ she suggests quickly, ‘leave a note and say where we’re going.’

Panic grips Nick. To admit now that he can’t write is a shame too far. Telling this woman he will do anything he can to save her brother only to admit now that he can’t write. On his own, away from everyone he could do it slowly, but not under pressure and no way in front of her. His mind can’t think quick enough to ask her to do it.

‘No, it’ll be okay,’ he stammers quietly, ‘er…no…they must have gone to the fort.’

‘Sure?’ She asks, confused at the change of his mind.

‘Yeah sure,’ he berates himself internally for not just admitting it and asking her to do it. However, Nick, for all his strengths and presence, is but a young man full of a young man’s pride, and Lilly is so beautiful that the admittance of such a thing cannot be expressed.

The blood red van starts moving away from the car park. With the streets so littered with bodies they have no choice but to detour into a side street, away from the town and away from the car park.

Within minutes of their exit, another vehicle drives into the area from a different side road. Two young men sit within, driving slowly so they can scan the area before coming to rest near the car park.

Twenty Nine

‘Nice choice,’ Cookey comments.

‘Stop going on about it.’

‘Well…’

‘It’s fine…stop fucking whining,’ Blowers groans.

‘It’s not fine, it is shit.’

‘Does it matter?’ Blowers asks for the umpteenth time.

‘Well duh!’ Cookey says. He stares out the open passenger window scanning the houses and area, while Blowers slowly navigates down the street back to the main road. ‘Oh nice one brainache, we’re back at the car park now.’

‘Yes because that is where I was going,’ Blowers explains with forced patience, ‘to see if the others have got back yet.’

‘Fair enough,’ Cookey holds his hands up, ‘still a shit car though.’

‘It doesn't fucking matter,’ Blowers exclaims.

‘We could have had that nice BMW…it was only three doors up but oh no…you’ve got to get the fucking Fiesta…the shittiest heap of shit rust bucket fucking Fiesta in the entire fucking country…I mean look…it still has a fucking tape player…’

‘So? We’re only using it for a bit.’

‘A fucking tape player…who has a tape player in their car these days?’

‘Fuck me,’ Blowers groans.

‘And they’ve got fucking tapes in here,’ Cookey says as he opens the glove box, ‘look…actual fucking music tapes…’

‘Look out the window not in the glove box.’

‘I’m looking,’ Cookey glances up and round before delving back into the music selection, ‘Ha! Duran Duran…get this…Duran Duran…’

‘Who are they?’

‘Who are they he says,’ Cookey laughs, ‘like he doesn't know.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Yeah fuck off, you’re like they’re biggest fan.’

‘What’re they doing back here?’

‘Who?’

‘You’d know that if you were looking properly,’ Blowers comments, checking his side mirror to see the car taken by Clarence and Lani driving up behind them. Cookey cranes back and forth, staring forward, then left and right before looking across with a puzzled glance.

‘Behind us you twat,’ Blowers shakes his head, sighing again as Cookey twists round to wave at the car behind them

‘What’s up? Where’s Lani?’ Cookey shouts climbing out to see Clarence already out and striding towards them.

‘We got the boss and Dave, Lani’s with them now. Any sign of Nick?’

‘Really, where?’ Cookey shouts.

‘On the outskirts,’ Clarence replies, ‘where the hell is he?’

‘Nick? Probably asleep somewhere,’ Blowers stares around, betraying the confidence of his voice.

‘I bloody hope he is, he’ll be making the brews for the next ten bloody years though,’ Clarence growls, ‘follow me.’

‘What about Nick?’ Cookey asks, ‘he might come back here.’

Clarence stares at the ground around the car park with a look of distaste. Being back here is offensive, a hell hole that should be burnt to the ground. He glances up at the flames licking at the buildings in the High Street with narrowed, tired eyes. With luck the fire will destroy everything and leave nothing here. Wipe it off the face of the planet and let nature reclaim it.

‘Leave a note for him, make it obvious,’ he snaps before walking off, leaving a quiet Blowers and Cookey staring after him.

‘He’s not happy,’ Cookey comments quietly.

‘He must be knackered,’ Blowers replies. Clarence gets back into the car and reverses. He goes too fast and slams the back of the vehicle into an old Renault, before slamming his fists down on the steering wheel so hard the thing snaps off to disappear from view.

Both lads watch as the giant exits the car holding the steering wheel in his hands, a face flushed with anger as he stares at the object with pure venom. Titanic self-control exerts itself and he just lets the plastic steering wheel fall from his hands.

‘Get on with it,’ he barks at the two lads, then turns to march to the nearest house. As he walks through the already broken front door the lads glance at each other with looks of worry, neither of them knowing if they should be doing something.

A car in the street clunks audibly, the indicators flashing as the alarm is de-activated.

‘Why are you still here?’ Clarence asks walking out the house towards the car he just unlocked.

‘Going now…er…you alright Clarence?’ Cookey calls out. He winces as the big man stops dead and slowly turns, his face a picture of anger mixed with worry and near exhaustion.

‘Yeah,’ Clarence sags on the spot, ‘sorry…I’m just fucked…no excuses but er…’

‘Don’t worry,’ Cookey says quickly, ‘just worried about you that’s all.’

‘I’m okay,’ Clarence nods, ‘I shouldn’t have snapped at you…the boss is safe with Dave, they’ve got some good news for once…see you in a minute.’

‘Clarence,’ Blowers calls out, ‘we don’t know where to go mate.’

Once again he lifts a huge hand to rub his smooth head, the feeling of being out of control floods through him. He is a professional soldier, trained for combat and high-stress situations. Losing it now is not an option but the exhaustion is starting to sap his mental functions.

‘Come with us,’ Cookey urges, ‘we can get another car later.’

He nods, knowing the time is right to take help from those around him. A team is a team for a reason, they help each other through the hardest parts. Ditching the keys he walks towards them with a small smile, before coming to a sudden stop at the side of the car. Looking down he takes in the tiny car before glaring up at Blowers.

‘A Fiesta?’

‘What?’ Blowers rolls his eyes.

‘I bloody told you Blowers,’ Cookey yells, wrenching the passenger seat forward he clambers into the back, ‘and only three fucking doors too.’

‘Stop moaning!’ Blowers snaps.

Cookey holds his breath as Clarence tries to ease his bulk into the passenger seat, his enormous shoulders and wide back dwarfing the seat. As athletic and fit as he is, getting both legs inside, even with the seat pushed back develops into an ordeal that threatens to eclipse the snapping of the steering wheel a few moments ago.

‘Get the other car,’ Cookey shouts but Blowers is already off, retrieving the keys from the floor where Clarence dropped them.

‘Better?’ Blowers asks. Five minutes later Clarence is sprawled across the back seat of a much bigger car as he sticks a finger up at a grinning Cookey.

‘A Fiesta,’ Clarence mutters.

‘That’s what I said,’ Cookey replies, ‘er…has anyone got any note paper?’

‘Fuck,’ Blowers brings the car to a stop, gently resting his head on the steering wheel as he count to ten.

‘I’ll get it,’ Cookey jumps out feeling the charge as two angry men start fuming quietly. Running into the first open house, he rummages through kitchen drawers before finding an old style lined notepad and black pen. Pen and paper in hand he moves quickly to the cupboards.

‘Here, found these,’ he hands out cans of warm fizzy lemonade, ‘only cheap supermarket stuff but…’

‘Nice one,’ Blowers accepts it with a quick smile, ‘thanks mate.’

‘Well done Cookey,’ Clarence takes the can, patting the young lad on the shoulder with his hand.

With the two grumpy bears busy drinking to replenish their blood sugar, the trio move off while Cookey scribbles a note. Changing his mind he rips the first attempt from the note pad before starting again. Nick struggles to read so writing small won’t help, instead he writes big and clear using capital letters.

EVERYONE OKAY. STAY HERE. WILL KEEP CHECKING. IF WE DON’T FIND YOU GO HOME. COOKEY.

‘Nice and simple,’ he muses, reading it back quietly. Plus no one else will know what it means in case some meandering zombie with the ability to read comes tottering along. Nick will know what “home” means. The fort is their home now.

With the other two out to keep watch, Cookey runs around the area trying to find somewhere to put the notice, deciding in the end to use the doors to the stairwell.

‘So what’s this news?’ Cookey asks, back in the car as they drive through the quiet side streets.

‘I’ll let the boss tell you,’ Clarence replies with a smile, ‘but there is something else you should know.’ Sitting upright, he relates the events at the fort during the night and then this morning’s event with the Saxon breaking down. He finishes by telling them they found Howie and Dave chasing a little girl. The lads listen quietly, nodding as they absorb all the information.

‘So why are Mr Howie and Dave all the way out here?’ Cookey asks.

‘Don’t you listen?’ Blowers snaps, ‘they’re going after that girl, Clarence just said…’

‘Oh right,’ Cookey nods, ‘ha, yeah got it now.’

‘Bloody hell Cookey,’ Clarence sighs.

‘What! Sorry.’

‘Never mind mate,’ Clarence mutters. ‘Is this heat ever going to stop?’

‘Getting worse by the day,’ Blowers comments.

‘It can’t keep getting hotter can it?’ Cookey stares up at the clear sky, ‘I know it gets hot here sometimes, but not like this.’

‘Fuck knows,’ Blowers replies, ‘we won’t be able to keep going if it does, we’re struggling enough as it is now.’

‘Down there,’ Clarence points, ‘keep going then left at the bottom.’

‘Got it,’ Blowers turns the wheel, ‘so the fort is fucked, the Saxon is fucked, we’re going to be chasing some little kid in this heat and Nick is fast asleep somewhere.’

‘Pretty much,’ Clarence says, ‘we hope Nick is asleep anyway.’

‘Either that or he’s blowing something up, or setting fire to something,’ Cookey laughs, ‘wish I could do what he does…shit that didn’t make any sense,’ Cookey laughs at himself, ‘I mean I wish I could understand electrical shit like he does.’

‘I think we understood you the first time,’ Clarence chuckles, ‘the lads got a gift though.’

‘What gifts have we got then?’ Cookey asks Blowers, ‘I know what yours is,’ he smirks.

‘Don’t tell me,’ Blowers grins, ‘something to do with bumming zombies?’

‘Ha! How did you know…you must be telepathy too.’

‘Telepathic you thick twat. So what’s your gift?’

‘Me?’ Cookey asks, ‘I make you laugh,’ he grins.

‘Do you fuck!’ Blowers laughs.

‘See, you’re laughing now.’

‘At you, I’m laughing at you not with you.’

‘Same difference,’ Cookey shrugs.

‘There,’ Clarence calls out, ‘Lani and Howie…see?’

‘Got it,’ Blowers glides the car down the street, grinning while Cookey waves out the window at Lani and Howie turning round.

‘Morning!’ Howie grins, ‘where the bloody hell have you two been?’

‘Morning,’ Cookey yells running forward to greet Howie, ‘what happened? Where did you go? Clarence said you had good news?’

‘Easy mate,’ Howie laughs, ‘Blowers, you alright mate?’

‘Boss,’ Blowers nods seriously, but a huge grin stretches across his face, ‘good to see you again.’

‘You too mate, both of you,’ Howie grins back, ‘you up to speed then?’ He looks at Clarence for confirmation.

‘Saxon, fort, girl and Nick,’ Clarence says curtly, ‘but not the other thing, thought I’d leave that for you.’

‘What other thing?’ Cookey asks excitedly, ‘what? What is it?’

Howie smiles and looks at them both, their faces eager as they wait for some good news for once. Pausing for effect he nonchalantly pushes a hand through his hair.

‘Oh for god’s sake,’ Lani sighs, ‘stop messing about.’

‘I’m immune,’ Howie blurts. He grins as their jaws go slack.

‘What the fuck?’ Blowers mumbles in shock, ‘how?’

‘Lost her again,’ walking out into the street Dave nods casually at Blowers and Cookey, ‘you two alright?’

‘Fine Dave,’ Blowers replies. A temporary distraction comes bounding over as Meredith greets the lads.

‘Again?’ Howie groans, ‘how?’

‘Over the fences,’ Dave shrugs, ‘couldn’t figure out which way she went.’

‘What about the dog?’ Lani asks.

‘She took a crap on the grass instead,’ Dave explains.

‘Sorry,’ Cookey says loudly, ‘immune?’

‘Yeah,’ Howie grins then launches into the story of the previous evening all the way through to waking up this morning to watch Dave slaughtering the entire remains of the horde.

‘Fuck,’ Cookey grimaces, ‘in your mouth?’

‘Yes mate.’

‘A whole heart?’

‘I think so,’ Howie replies.

‘Really?’ he grimaces again.

‘Still beating too.’

‘No way,’ Cookey exclaims, ‘a beating heart? Urgh that’s so gross.’

‘Slightly,’ Howie accepts.

‘What did it taste like?’

‘Cookey!’ Blowers snaps.

‘What? I never met anyone who ate a heart before.’

‘I didn’t eat it,’ Howie says.

‘What happened to it then?’

‘I took it out,’ Dave cuts in.

‘Was it a whole heart?’ Cookey probes for the gory details.

‘It was,’ Dave replies.

‘Ah,’ Cookey spits but unable to help himself he asks again, ‘what did it taste like?’

‘I don’t know,’ Howie shrugs, ‘it was hot and rubbery and…’

‘Urgh no stop!’ Cookey shouts, ‘no don’t stop…was blood coming out?’

‘It was still beating,’ Howie explains, ‘pumping blood into my throat.’

‘Ah no…don’t…’ Cookey steps back in horror, ‘shit… did you drink it?’

‘Either that or drown mate.’

‘Worst thing,’ Lani says in a matter of fact voice, ‘he kissed me when he saw me earlier.’

‘You didn’t?’ Cookey recoils, ‘oh that’s awful…could you taste it too?’

‘No,’ Lani scoffs.

‘Did you brush your teeth?’ Cookey asks, ‘was there like bits of goo in…’

‘Stop it,’ Blowers shouts, ‘fucking disgusting.’

‘Hang on,’ Cookey shakes his head, ‘so you’re both immune….’

‘And I bit a finger off,’ Howie adds enjoying the gory story to watch the lads faces.

‘Clean off?’ Blowers stares in horror.

‘Think so,’ Howie nods, ‘and popped an eye so the juice went in my mouth.’

‘Shit Howie,’ Lani glares at him, ‘it’s not something to boast about.’

‘Wait wait,’ Cookey shakes his head again trying to snap his own attention away from morbid curiosity, ‘so if you’re both immune then…well how did that happen? Is it when you snogged at the fort?’

‘How does everyone know about that?’ Howie asks.

‘Does that mean we’ve got to snog you?’ Cookey asks taking another step away, ‘Blowers might like it but…’

‘Fuck off,’ Blowers snaps.

‘I’m not snogging any of you,’ Howie points out.

‘What about Lani?’ Cookey grins with a mischievous glint in his eye, ‘will Mr Howie beat us all up if…’

‘In your dreams Cookey,’ Lani laughs.

‘Can we get this girl?’ Dave cuts in seriously.

‘We don’t know anything more now than we did before.’ Howie nods at Dave before continuing quickly, ‘I could have passed on immunity, or Lani could have…or we could both be resistant or carriers or…’ he shrugs, ‘we just don’t know.’

‘You can’t pass immunity for something by kissing,’ Blowers says, ‘that’s not possible is it?’

‘I’ve never heard of it,’ Howie nods, ‘so we don’t know anything.’

‘Are we all immune?’ Cookey asks quickly.

‘No idea,’ Howie replies, ‘not the sort of thing we can find out really.’

‘Maybe we can’t catch zombie,’ Cookey says to himself more than anything, ‘that would be cool…oh fuck!’

‘What?’ Howie asks as an angry look crosses Cookey’s face.

‘April,’ the lad groans, ‘fucking hell! I could have been immune and she was right there…’

‘Don’t be a twat,’ Blowers snorts.

‘Oh April,’ Cookey sighs ruefully, ‘the love of my life…what could have been between us…’

‘Yeah, twenty seconds of grunting probably,’ Blowers laughs.

‘Stop,’ Lani warns, ‘I do not wish to be reminded of that night thank you.’

‘Oh shit, yeah Marcy,’ Cookey says quickly as the rest groan at him mentioning her name.

‘Little girl?’ Dave prompts.

‘Yes,’ Howie seizes on the distraction, noting the glare now being offered by Lani. ‘Any news on Nick?’ He asks quickly.

Shaking his head, Cookey explains about the note as an uncomfortable silence descends.

‘We get this done and head back then,’ Howie says firmly, ‘Nick’s switched on, he’ll be alright.’

‘He’s a hard lad,’ Clarence offers in his deep voice, ‘he can fight alright.’

Thirty

‘I’ve never heard of it,’ Nick says, ‘Chapsworth House? Nah, no idea.’

‘Then we need to find a guidebook,’ Lilly replies, ‘or a map or…I was about to say a computer so we can access the internet.’

‘I wish,’ Nick remarks. Leaning forward, he looks down at Todd fast asleep in the middle of the double passenger seat, ‘maybe you should sleep too.’

‘Not yet,’ she says quickly, ‘I couldn’t sleep anyway. Listen Nick, thank you for doing this.’

‘Don’t worry,’ he says, ‘we’ll get your brother and go to the fort but just…’ he pauses.

‘But what?’

‘Fucking hell, listen if there’s like loads of people there with guns and stuff we might have to go to the fort first and get the others.’

‘But…’

‘We’ll see okay,’ he says quickly, ‘I’m just saying that we don’t want to bundle into something we can’t handle.’

‘Okay,’ she replies quietly with a worried frown.

‘I know he’s your brother but we’ve got Todd with us and…’

‘I get it,’ she nods, ‘I do.’

Nick stops himself from glancing over at her again. The way the sunlight was behind her reflects from her hair and casts a golden glow on her skin. Amidst the horror he can’t help himself from admiring the natural beauty of the woman. It is an organic reaction and one which cannot be resisted despite the circumstances. Lilly is terrified yet determined to do the right thing and do it as fast as possible.

‘Were you in the army then?’ She breaks his train of thought and the expression of interest in his life, as casual as the question is, makes his face flush once again.

‘Yeah sort of,’ he replies, ‘we were on our first weekend when it started.’

‘Oh,’ Lilly nods, ‘so you didn’t get to do all the training and er…things then?’

‘No,’ he replies.

‘But what you did back there, shooting those men so quickly even though I was attacking you…how did you know to do that? Why didn’t you shoot me?’

Nick snorts with a humourless laugh, ‘that’s Dave.’ He shakes his head and smiles wryly, ‘target perception is probably what he’d call it.’

‘Wow, sounds good,’ she smiles, noticing the way he keeps blushing and trying to keep the conversation going casually.

‘No offence but I didn’t really see you as a threat,’ Nick explains, ‘you didn’t have a weapon and the punches were good but you were just like fucking smacking them down all over the place. The other blokes were the dangerous ones, especially the one with the limp.’

‘Okay,’ Lilly adjusts position, ‘what should I have done then?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘When I attacked you, what should I have done?’ She repeats, ‘say the same thing happens again?’

‘Well for a start, don’t go attacking some bloke with a fucking gun…shit…sorry…I am trying not to swear.’

‘It’s okay,’ she laughs gently.

‘But if you do have no other choice, then, well I guess you do what we do, you have an explosion of force but direct it.’

‘You mean the punches yes?’

‘Punches, kicks, slaps, gouging…remember you are a woman so that means you got less strength than a bloke, so don’t just punch, go for the eyes, the ears…shit, go for his nuts if you can…’

‘Nuts?’ She laughs, a pleasant sound that fills the van.

‘Sorry,’ Nick smiles slowly,’ I meant his private bits.’

‘I know!’

‘Okay, yeah don’t just try punching but go for whatever you can see. If you got a knife then stab and stab and don’t stop until he’s dead. Same with the zombies, if you have to fight them then go for it…don’t be holding back…’

‘Have you killed many of them?’

‘Thousands,’ Nick replies quickly, ‘between us I mean, not just me…probably tens of thousands, maybe more,’ he shrugs.

‘All with guns?’

‘Fuck I wish it was,’ Nick laughs, ‘no, half of ‘em were with bloody axes and whatever else we could find.’

‘Oh my,’ Lilly stares in surprise, ‘with your hands?’

‘Yeah,’ Nick half grins and grimaces at the only too recent memories.

‘Do you just go round killing them?’ Lilly asks, genuinely interested.

‘Not quite,’ Nick explains, ‘we got the fort after getting out of London, and sort of decided to try and set it up as a safe place. Then they all came to the fort…’

‘Sorry, who did?’ Lilly leans forward staring at him with keen interest. Glancing over, he catches sight of those deep blue eyes staring at him and for a second he becomes flustered again, trying to change gear where no gear change is needed.

‘What was that?’ Lilly asks as the van jolts from being pushed into fourth when fifth was perfectly okay as it was.

‘Oh nothing,’ Nick covers it up, pushing the clutch down a few times and wiggling the gear stick, ‘just seemed a bit sticky…the gear stick…’

‘Sticky stick,’ Lilly observes, making the poor lad blush even more. Laughing at the sight, she looks away and leans closer to the open window. Men are so funny, the way they either try and boast about everything and show off or get like this, all tongue tied and flustered.

Something about the lad makes her smile. Very good looking, tall and dark, with lean, hard muscles and that shy grin which hides how very capable he is. The quickness of his reactions, the shots he took when she was hitting him. He could have battered her aside with ease and just apologised later but he didn’t, he took the blows to save them all.

A feeling of guilt rushes through her that she’s even thinking about Nick like that at a time like this. Billy is god knows , with strangers that could be doing awful things, and here she is thinking like this.

‘Gift shop,’ she announces, startling Nick into snapping his head round.

‘Eh?’

‘We need a gift shop or something like that, for a map or guide book,’ she explains with perfect pronunciation, her voice strong and cultured.

‘Okay,’ Nick replies, ‘a fucking gift shop it is.’ Wincing at himself for not being able to stop swearing, he focusses on driving. Stop fucking swearing, he thinks, you sound like a twat.

Shame hits him, shame that he can’t read or write and now can’t stop swearing for more than a few minutes. This poor woman, lost in this wasteland of horror trying to rescue her brother and all she gets is a uneducated, thick idiot who swears all the time.

‘What?’ He asks, aware she was speaking but so absorbed in self-depreciation that he missed the actual words.

‘I said how can we find one?’ Lilly says and watches whilst a confused look etches onto his face. ‘A gift shop?’

‘Gift shop, oh right yes…a gift shop…er…not back there that’s for sure, everything is on fire so…er…maybe the next village or town probably.’

‘Wow,’ she smiles.

‘What?’

‘You said a whole sentence without swearing.’

‘Ha, sorry,’ he grins, ‘do you want me to say it again with some curse words?’

‘Curse words?’ She laughs, ‘I haven’t heard that for years.’

‘My nan always called them curse words,’ Nick says.

‘Did you like her?’

‘My nan? Yeah loads,’ Nick nods, ‘she pretty much raised me on her own.’

‘Oh, what about your parents? Were they working?’

‘Working! My parents? No way, getting pissed more like, oh and watching Jeremy Kyle.’

‘That’s sad,’ Lilly frowns, ‘but it’s good you had your nan.’

‘Yeah, yeah it was, she died a few years ago.’

‘Oh that’s awful.’

‘At the time but now,’ he motions out the window, ‘I don’t know, maybe she is better off now all this has happened.’

‘Well I am sorry Nick,’ she says politely.

‘Thanks,’ Nick glances across. The way she speaks is so nice, all the letters being pronounced properly like someone off the telly when they read the news. ‘What about you?’

‘Me?’ Lilly asks, ‘er I lived with my mum and dad and Billy of course. Dad…well, he er…’

‘Shit! I’m sorry Lilly, I just don’t fucking think sometimes.’

‘No don’t be silly,’ she says quickly, ‘er, well my mother worked in a care home. She was working when it happened and she just never came home.’

‘Fuck,’ Nick groans sadly, ‘that’s awful.’

‘Yeah it was, Dad went to pieces. He just couldn’t cope without her. We stayed there for ages, well until yesterday actually, but I kept going on saying we should leave and find somewhere else. I nagged and went on and now look what happened.’

‘You didn’t know that,’ Nick interrupts softly, ‘none of us know what will happen.’

‘I know,’ she whispers.

‘How did you escape last night?’

‘I didn’t escape,’ she says quickly with a change in tone that Nick picks up on instantly.

‘Oh,’ he says when she doesn't elaborate, ‘okay.’

‘We met this other family,’ Lilly says in a low tone, ‘Norman and his two children. Sam, the girl I said about previously, and of course Todd. We found a forest and Norman said we should stay there the night to stay out of sight. Norman and I took the first watch while everyone else slept…’

‘You don’t have to explain,’ Nick says at hearing the pain in her voice.

‘No it’s okay,’ she says more for herself, ‘Norman said he heard something and went off into the forest and then called me. He said he could see lights in the distance like a town or something like that.’

‘Okay,’ Nick listens intently.

‘But he couldn’t see any lights. There were no lights, he just wanted to get me on my own away from the others.’

‘What?’

‘He started touching me and…’

‘Fucking prick,’ Nick explodes, fighting the urge to speak louder for fear of waking Todd.

‘He was…’

‘It’s okay,’ Nick says, ‘you don’t have to say.’

‘Oh nothing happened,’ she continues, ‘he was saying that I wanted him and he could see it. He had his hands all over me,’ she shudders at the memory, ‘then we heard screaming and he took off, running through the forest until he burst back into the camp. I tripped and fell down and just stayed there…watching it all happen.’

‘Jesus,’ Nick shakes his head, ‘that is fucking terrible. Dirty fucking wanker,’ he grips the steering wheel harder at the thought of some dirty pervert groping the terrified girl in the woods.

‘Yes,’ Lilly says primly, ‘he was a dirty, fucking wanker.’

An instant reaction and Nick laughs, a sudden sound that fills the van and earns a reproving look from Lilly.

‘Sorry,’ he drops his head to stop laughing, ‘just the way you said it.’

‘What?’

‘The way you said dirty fucking wanker,’ he laughs again, ‘I never heard anyone say it like that before.’

‘Like what?’

‘You know, all nice and posh like that, you dirty fucking wanker’ Nick puts on his poshest voice, mimicking the girl.

‘I do not sound like that,’ she snaps but with obvious humour and very glad of the change of subject.

‘You do,’ Nick grins.

‘Really?’ She asks biting her bottom lip, ‘should I stop it then?’

‘What? Speaking like that? No…why should you?’

‘You know, so I sound tougher and well, not so posh and soft.’

‘What you gonna talk like instead then?’ He laughs.

‘I don’t know,’ she replies in the prim voice, ‘I hadn’t thought that far ahead when I suggested it.’

‘Go on then,’ he prompts.

‘What now?’ She asks in mock horror.

‘Yeah, give it your best shot.’

‘Well what shall I say?’

Nick laughs again, a pleasant sound that makes her grin broadly. ‘Well I say dear, whatever shall I say?’ Nick mimics.

‘Stop that,’ Lilly gives him a stern glance, ‘we shall have no ribbing here thank-you.’

‘Okay, sorry,’ he says with a forced apologetic tone.

‘Right, you ready? ‘Ere, wot’ all this then?’ She says in a deep voice causing Nick to burst out laughing again, which wakes Todd up.

‘Sorry,’ Nick laughs, ‘that was brilliant.’

‘Ssshhh,’ Lilly strokes Todd’s head, ‘you sleep now, are you thirsty? No? Okay try and sleep.’

‘Sorry,’ Nick says quietly, ‘my fault.’

‘It’s okay,’ Lilly replies, ‘I take it my attempt wasn’t very good then?’

‘No,’ Nick says bluntly but with a smile, ‘bloody awful if I’m honest.’

‘Really?’ She asks lightly, ‘that bad?’

‘You sounded like a copper from the old movies.’

‘I was trying for those gangster movies, er…Snitch?’

‘Snatch?’

‘Yes Snatch, I was trying for that.’

‘Didn’t work,’ he chortles.

‘Then I shall practise,’ she smiles, ‘but quietly in my head.’

‘Village,’ Nick nods ahead spotting the rows of houses breaking up the rolling countryside, ‘might be a shop we can check.’

The humour dies off but the good nature remains as they both peer ahead, scanning the rows of buildings for the ubiquitous village stores.

When they see it their hopes dwindle at the sight of the smashed in windows and signs of looting. Blood stains on the ground and a rotting corpse lying half out of the door. Nick holds the van way back, sitting quietly with the engine off and the windows down listening intently. Lilly notices the change in him straight away, the easy grin replaced with a hard look as he stares round at the scene.

‘Nick.’ She blanches slightly at the hand he holds up, a clear indication for silence and done without a glance at her. The minutes tick silently by as she waits patiently. The engine cooling and Todd’s deep breaths the only noise.

‘Okay,’ Nick nods, ‘sorry what’s up?’

‘I was just going to say I can go look,’ she whispers.

‘No, stay here and keep watch,’ he orders with a natural air of authority, ‘use the step so you can get a bit of height and watch all directions. If you see anything, just shout and I’ll come running, ok?’

She nods quickly, ‘do I hold the pistol now or…’

Smiling he nods, ‘yeah I would, I’ll be in and out.’ He slides out the door and pulls the long barrelled shotgun out, once more checking the barrels are loaded before walking quickly towards the shop.

Glancing back, he nods at Lilly standing on the passenger step with pistol in hand, carefully looking around. He glances down at the corpse but has no way of knowing if the body was human or undead, seeing as the skull has been smashed completely in. Looks old though so he steps forward, gently easing into the store before pausing to listen again. His eyes move quickly over the emptied shelves, to the counter at the end and the cigarette display. The sight reminds him he hasn’t smoked for a while. It didn’t feel right lighting up with Todd in the van.

All quiet, so he creeps to the magazine rack, scanning the covers for anything that might look like a guide book. He thinks of the word, spelling the letters out in his head G.U.I.D.E.

It’s okay now with no one watching him. He knows Lilly is waiting, but at least she’s not watching so he can afford a few minutes. Most of the magazines are still here, brightly covered glossy covers showing smiling women and men that all looked tanned, fit and healthy. Some actors and celebrities too that he recognises from movies. A jarring feeling kicks in at the sight of Paco Maguire on the front of one cover. The big white smile and his arms folded to show his bulging muscles. Remembering the night they fought together, Nick smiles sadly and feels a sudden overwhelming sense of loss.

Taking the magazine was a natural reaction, something to remember the man and show the others when they get back together. Exhaling deeply, he returns to scanning the shelves until finding a stack of local maps. He smiles at the memory of Cookey and Blowers taking the piss in the back of the Saxon when he was trying to read the directions out.

Grabbing a load of them he quickly walks the aisle, checking for any food or drink left over. Everything stripped and gone. Behind the counter he peers down to the floor, grinning at finding several packets of cigarettes gone unnoticed. Lighters too, maybe Mr Howie will finally take his own instead of asking all the time.

Lilly visibly relaxes at the sight of him coming out of the shop, smiling with genuine warmth as he clambers into the van to dump the cigarette packets, magazine and maps on the floor.

‘Here,’ he hands her several maps, ‘mind if I have a quick smoke?’ He asks politely.

‘You don’t have to ask me,’ she replies with a smile.

‘I guess you don’t smoke?’ He ventures.

‘No, but you carry on,’ she says, flicking through the map covers to see the selection.

Breathing a sigh of relief at not being required to read the maps in front of her, he jumps back out and lights up, inhaling the smoke deep before blowing it out and checking all sides.

With Lilly absorbed in the maps, he smokes quietly and finds himself as equally absorbed in watching her. Long strands of blonde hair hang down from her forehead, slender fingers flick through the pages and her face expresses what she thinks. A slight puzzled frown crosses it now as she deciphers and works out each geographical area followed by a quick nod when she finds the right one. She makes funny shapes with her mouth too, pushing her bottom lip out then sucking it back it in. The lose strands of hair get pushed back, only to fall back down a few seconds later.

Lilly senses being watched and glances up, catching Nick staring at her with a look of rapture on his face. He balks and turns away, quickly sucking on his cigarette and making a meal out of checking each direction.

‘Chapsworth House,’ she muses audibly trying to put him at ease, ‘do you think that could be a stately home?’

‘Fuck kno…I mean I don’t know,’ Nick corrects himself.

‘English Heritage site maybe?’

‘I er…I don’t know, sorry,’ Nick replies.

‘Nothing here,’ she says reading through the index of places of interest, ‘maybe another map,’ she talks more to herself, picking up the other maps to scan read the indexes, running a finger down the columns.

‘Chapsworth Park,’ she says quickly, ‘what do these numbers mean Nick?’

‘Which ones…er…they mean the page number and the er…here,’ taking the map from her he reads the numbers, thanking god that his problem with words doesn't extend to digits. Finding the right page, he flicks back to check the numbers before working along the boxes. ‘Walk before you climb,’ he says quietly.

‘Pardon?’

‘It means you go along the bottom first when you read the number from the map, like this see,’ he shows her the number along the bottom of the page before finding the corresponding value for going up the page, ‘then you go up…see like climbing, and that’s the box…’

‘Can you see Chapsworth House there?’ She asks trying to peer at the map. Nick stares down at the tiny words as they suddenly start swimming across the page.

‘Er, here you have a look,’ he pushes the map back quickly, before stepping back out into the blazing sun.

‘Got it,’ she exclaims, ‘right here see,’ she holds her finger over a big green splodge with what looks like a building in the middle and some words printed in black, words that Nick cannot read.

‘Great,’ he grins. He might not be able to read, but he can view a map and work out what the colours mean. The shades of green and the swirly lines represent the gradient of the land. ‘Open flat land,’ he mutters, ‘big too, look at all this green area. What’s that?’ He holds his finger over a lighter shaded section within the green.

‘Let me see,’ she pushes her head so close next to his that he can smell her hair and feel the warmth coming from her,. ‘Golf course,’ she smiles up at him, ‘see, it says there,’ she points at the small black printed words.’

‘Oh yeah,’ Nick says, long practised at covering his inability up, ‘sorry, didn’t see it.’

‘That’s okay,’ she manoeuvres closer to view the map, ‘golf course,’ she says again, holding her finger over the word. ‘Main house,’ she points to a square section with more small words.

‘What’s that say?’ Nick squints at the page.

‘Er…copse, Chapsworth Copse, see the little tree symbols?’

‘Yeah course,’ Nick grins quickly while nodding.

‘Do you need glasses Nick?’ She asks softly.

‘No,’ he replies, dropping his head quickly to avoid eye contact. His tone also drops which Lilly detects in an instant.

‘What’s wrong?’ She asks with concern. Nick bites down the urge to lie and make something up. This is all too important to try and avoid it. What if something happens that needs him to read words, shit, he can’t even read the words on the map.

‘I can’t read,’ he blurts out and despite the embarrassed blush, he lifts his head to stare directly at her, ‘I’m dyslexic, really fucking dyslexic…sorry.’

She stares at him, reading the signs of his intense discomfort on his face. Refusing to yield to the shame, he holds her gaze with a mixture of defiance and apology.

‘It doesn't matter,’ she smiles slowly, ‘I can’t shoot a gun,’ she adds, ‘or sound very tough but you can, and I can read.’

‘It does matter,’ Nick softens his stare looking down at the map, ‘I didn’t want to say anything but…well something might fucking happen that you know, means I’ve got to read or something and I can’t do it…well I can on my own but not when someone else is watching me…’

‘Hey, it’s okay,’ she reassures him with genuine warmth, ‘honestly Nick, I can read anything that needs…er…reading?’ She pulls a face as her own sentence becomes convoluted.

‘Don’t blush,’ she adds quickly seeing the red tinge burning in his cheeks, reaching out she rests her hand on his forearm, squeezing gently, ‘honestly Nick, it doesn't matter.’

‘Thanks,’ he mumbles looking down again.

‘Do your friends know?’ She asks with the hand still on his forearm.

‘Yeah,’ he nods, ‘they take the piss all the time,’ he grins showing there’s no offence.

‘Well then,’ she grins, ‘think of me like that.’

‘Yeah right,’ he laughs, ‘you look a lot fucking better than Cookey and Blowers,’ the words come out faster than the control gate in his head can slam down. His mouth drops open in a comical expression as she laughs in delight, ‘shit Lilly, I didn’t mean to be a perv or anything.’

‘Thank you for the compliment,’ she says graciously.

‘Well yeah…er…so I can’t read any of these little fucking words on here, they’re like those things the Egyptians used.’

‘Hieroglyphics.’

‘Yeah them. It’s just all weird shit that swims about…if I’m alone and I picture the word first then try and recognise it I can do it, but…’

‘But you can read the map signs yes? You know what all these lines and things mean?’

‘Yeah they’re easy. These ones are the gradient of the land, the closer they are the bigger the fucking hill.’

‘The bigger the fucking hill,’ she repeats seriously, ‘got it.’

‘The roads are easy and these ones are footpaths and those other things that horses go on.’

‘Bridleways.’

‘Yeah them.’

‘So between us we can find it easy,’ she proclaims, ‘team work.’

‘I guess,’ he laughs.

‘So stop worrying and lets go. Is there anything else I should know?’

‘What like?’ He asks climbing into the driver’s seat.

‘I don’t know, are you blind or deaf, maybe have a false leg?’

‘No,’ he laughs, ‘none of those, just reading and writing, that makes me useless enough.’

Watching him and the way he speaks, she can tell he isn’t fishing for compliments. The man, as amazing as he is, is genuinely lacking from self-confidence and esteem. How hard it must have been to survive in a modern world without being able to read or write. That would pretty much rule out the internet, even text messages probably. But then, so far he hasn’t shown any shock at anything that’s happened and Lilly feels nothing but genuine gratitude for meeting him.

Feeling like a weight has just been lifted, Nick drives the van, amazed at how naturally she accepted what he said. There was no hesitation either, no pause as she tried to cover the sneer or stifle the laugh like so many girls had done before.

With Todd fast asleep, Lilly reads the map directing Nick through the leafy country lanes towards Chapsworth House.

Thirty One

‘There,’ Blowers shouts, ‘straight ahead, she’s running into that house on the left.’

‘On her,’ Cookey sprints away.

‘Dave, pass the house and get into the gardens, cut her off. Lani, likewise this side, Clarence stay in the street and be ready if she comes back out.’

‘Got it,’ Lani sprints hard, turning quickly to get down a garden path before bouncing off the locked front door with a yelp. She vaults the low fence and goes into the next one along.

Dave goes up the road away from us, heading past the house Blowers saw her going into and easily overtakes a running Cookey giving it his best shot. Clarence jogs towards the last location she was seen in to stand ready in the street. Meredith leaps about barking while running between everyone, obviously detecting no threats so seeing this as a great game of let’s all run about like idiots in the blistering heat.

We’ve got her this time though. Dave sails past the house followed by Blowers and Cookey reaching the front gate. I hold back to see which one Dave goes for, and watch him vault the wall with ease and disappear into a door a few houses up.

‘Milly,’ I shout, ‘come on now…no more playing…you have to come out now.’ I sprint into the back garden to find Blowers and Cookey running round to check all corners with exasperated looks on their faces.

‘Over the fence,’ I shout clearly.

‘Which one?’ Lani’s voice drifts over. I stare at Blowers hoping he can answer, the lad just shakes his head.

‘No idea,’ I shout back.

‘I’ll get upstairs and look out the windows.’ Cookey runs back inside.

‘Did you hear anything?’

‘No boss,’ Blowers shrugs, ‘she’s fucking quick.’

‘Isn’t she,’ I reply.

‘You see anything?’ Blowers shouts up at Cookey opening an upstairs window. The grinning lad leans out checking left and right, waving at Lani and Dave.

‘Nothing,’ he calls out, ‘oh shit…there…’

‘Where?’ I spin round as though expecting to see her pop up.

‘Over the back,’ he shouts, ‘going into the house over the back.

‘THE BACK,’ I bellow as Blowers and I make a run for the rear fence.

‘CLARENCE…THE BACK…’ Dave roars.

‘ON IT,’ Clarence’s deep tones reach us easily.

‘Where’s the dog?’ I shout.

‘With me,’ Lani yells back. Reaching the back fence we leap at the same time, which is stupid as our combined weight just about obliterates the thin panel.

‘What was that?’ Lani shouts.

‘Blowers and Mr Howie need to lose weight,’ Cookey shouts running past us with a grin.

‘Wanker,’ Blowers growl. Getting quickly to our feet we run to catch up with Cookey.

We aim to the side of the house and the open garden gate left swinging from the girl. Gasping for breath and sweating buckets, we burst through and into the front garden. All of us, me and the two lads, Dave and Lani all emerge into the street at the same time, albeit several houses apart. She out foxed every single one of us.

Watching the other female of the pack she pants hard from the exertion of running and jumping fences. Her strong heart beats fast and her lungs work quickly. This is a great game. Spotting the other pack members further down the road she bounds to greet them, yelping with glee that everyone is running together.

There is someone else here. A little one that is running away from the pack. She doesn't sense hunger or threat from the pack to the little one, but nor does she detect fear from the little one either. So it must be a game. A game of chasing the little one, just like she used to do with her old pack.

Her ears are sharper, her nose much stronger, so putting these to use she snuffles along the ground until she picks up the track. The scent is strong, a female little one that smells of human waste, and the track hovers above the ground like a different colour, an almost tangible thing that can be sorted separately from the other background smells.

The pack leader makes loud noise but the track is strong and wills her on. Nose to the ground she weaves the route taken. Over the hard surface and through this gap towards an old pack den. Another pack lived here but not now. Into the old den and the track is strong, through the rooms and into the rear with the soft surface under her feet.

Snaking the route, she heads straight across the grass to the rear fence. The little one has learnt to go over obstacles. With a running leap she uses her paws to drive her off the top of the fence and land easily in the next garden.

Noise ahead, a noise that sends a feeling of happiness through her body. A familiar noise the little one from her old pack used to make. The noise he made when he was happy.

Nose down and tail wagging she runs across the soft grass, down the side of the house and out into the street. With a yelp she opens her stride. The scent is no longer needed as the little one comes into view running down the street.

Bounding up next to her Meredith yelps and wags her tail. The little one makes noise and stops to stroke her.

She likes the touch from the little one and can sense her happy energy. The little one is covered in dirt. Dirt like this is bad so she tries to remove it, using her rough tongue on the girls face and hands which makes the little one make the happy noise again.

The pack leader shouts from nearby so she makes noise back, telling him to come this way. The little one makes the happy sound and starts running again.

She stays with the little one, running alongside her but this time the little one doesn't go into any of the old dens but keeps running down the street.

This game is great fun so she makes noise, telling the pack where she is so they can chase them.

The hard surface ends as the little one climbs over to get onto the open soft ground the other side. She spins round making noise, this isn’t a good place to hide, they will see us too easily here but the little one carries on anyway.

Springing over the obstacle, she once again lands with ease on the soft surface and runs alongside the little one, her long tongue hanging out as she watches the little one show her teeth and make noise.

Already checking the route ahead and she can see the high thing, too high for either of them to climb. The game must end now as the pack will find them easy. Maybe another one from the pack will run and hide?

The pack leader makes loud noise from behind them, he sounds angry, something is wrong. She turns to see the rest of the pack running towards her, all of them making loud noise like they do when there is a threat.

Spinning round she checks the area, nothing here, no threats. Confused at the noise being made she checks again, there on the air; a faint smell.

It is a scent unknown to her, a familiar animal scent, but this is stronger and much more potent.

‘MILLY, NO,’ I scream as she runs towards the high chain link fence. Dave breaks away running as fast as he can, legs and arms almost blurring as he opens his stride fully. Lani is only just behind him and the rest all stretched out, every single one of us screaming at the tops of our voices for the girl to stop before she hits the fence. The electrified signs are clear as day, even from this distance and no way of knowing if the power is off.

Behind the fence thick bushes obscure whatever lies beyond. Meredith is watching us and I will her to have the intelligence to grab hold of that girl but that is asking too much, even from her.

I think we all gasp as the girl jumps to start climbing, a tiny tot going hand over hand as she climbs with the dexterity of a monkey, scaling the fence like it was made of rope. Thankfully ,she doesn't burst into flames or go flying thirty feet into the air in a shower of sparks.

She must be superhuman, running all that distance and now going over a fence that has to be at least six metres high.

It took us a little while to figure out which direction she went after getting through the next row of houses and into the street. It was only Dave hearing Meredith barking in the field that got us in the right direction.

Sweat is pouring from me, my legs feel like lead and my lungs want to burst apart but if nothing else, I’m still going. If I tried to do all this two weeks ago I would have collapsed in a crying heap. Even now I know there is a bit of final speed and power left, that hidden reserve that is only ever to be used in the event of a dire emergency, such as a little girl about to jump onto an electrified fence.

Milly scales the fence and with ease starts down the other side, the little sod actually pausing when she drops to the ground to wave at us before legging it out of sight into the bushes.

A few seconds later and Dave hits the fence with a running jump, his deft movements have him reaching the top in a matter of seconds. Lani is pretty much the same, the two athletic bodies scaling the structure with ease.

Us four? Well we get there alright, then stop to get our breath just as the other two drop down the other side.

‘You alright?’ Lani asks at seeing us huffing and puffing with bright red faces.

‘Fine,’ I just about manage to squeak, ‘get her…’ I wave them on needlessly seeing as Dave has already started forcing a path through the bushes.

‘No way,’ Clarence looks up at the fence with his huge chest heaving up and down, ‘not happening…’

‘Get,’ I try and speak but my lungs demand more air, ‘get a car and ram it,’ I finally manage to gasp.

‘We don’t know what’s on the other side,’ Cookey says through ragged breathing.

‘Who cares,’ I shrug, ‘he’ll never get over it,’ I nod at Clarence. The fence is strong and high, but the chain link is tight together. There is no way he will get his hands through the gaps enough to pull his heavy frame up, and his feet are too big to gain purchase in the loops too.

‘Fuck, gotta run back now,’ Clarence groans, ‘come on,’ he calls the dog after him before turning to start jogging off.

‘Up we go,’ I leap for the fence, slide down and start again from the ground. The lads join me, all three of us grunting and swearing in pain from the thin wire digging into our fingers. Several minutes later we’re dropping down the other side, clutching our sore hands and swearing even more. Our axes, thrown over before we started climbing lie nearby, wait to be taken up.

‘You got any water?’ Blowers asks.

‘No mate,’ shaking my head I know what he means. The heat is fucking horrible and despite taking water on several times this morning, I am already gasping for more.

‘Dave?’ I call out as we head for the bushes and start pushing our way through, ‘Oi, Dave?’

Still no response so we push harder until we break through the bushes. We see the ground falling away in a long, gentle slope to a wide vista of open land, dotted with clusters of bushes, trees and small lakes. The sight is beautiful, lush and just eye wateringly gorgeous; what’s more it seems to stretch on without a break into the distance.

‘Jesus,’ Cookey gapes at the view.

‘There,’ Blowers points off to the right at the little figure still running along, Dave and Lani now not too far behind her. We set off at a steady jog knowing they’ll catch her easily enough now the ground is open and flat.

Watching ahead, I can see both Lani and Dave look like they’re holding back a little, as though waiting for the girl to get tired and slow down instead of just catching her outright. That, I guess, will be Lani’s thinking so they don’t scare her too much.

‘This is amazing,’ Cookey stares about at the view, ‘must be some rich fucker’s garden, why’s he electrified the fence though?’

‘Stop us rough types getting in probably,’ I reply. The heat is unbearable. Out here, in this flat open land, it feels even hotter with absolutely no breeze.

‘She just doesn't stop,’ Blowers groans as we watch the girl happily running along with the occasional casual glance over her shoulder. She does start to slow down though, almost as though she knows the game is finished and there is nowhere to go.

With the distance between her, Dave and Lani diminishing, we all start to relax a little. Then she stops and simply waits for the other two to reach her.

Lani quickly takes the girls hand to stop her running off again, and bends down to talk to her while Dave stands nearby watching closely and ready to react if she bursts off.

By the time we get there, we are wilting from the running and the oppressive heat. We are three red-faced, gasping blokes practically falling down to rest.

‘Milly?’ I ask with a glance from the girl then to Lani.

‘Yes,’ Lani nods, ‘this is Milly, say hello Milly.’

‘Hello Milly!’ The girl laughs happily, ‘can we play again now?’

‘No!’ We all shout. Well the three of us do while Dave and Lani just stand there looking stupidly fit.

‘Hello Milly,’ I grin while shaking my head, ‘good god you can run.’

‘I like running,’ she announces to us all proudly, ‘and I like climbing and I like chocolate and I like ponies and I like…’

She goes on describing all the things she likes, chattering away happily while holding Lani’s hand. The rest of us don’t get a word in as she talks with no discernible break for breath. Her hair is matted with filth, thick strands all stuck together and a firm layer of grime on her skin, especially round her mouth, with various layers of chocolate and god knows what else. I’m guessing we all smell pretty bad but my god, she pongs to high heaven. Body odour, faeces and stale urine, her bright summer dress is filthy too and her bare legs are almost black from being unwashed.

‘Hi Milly,’ Cookey grins and holds a hand out, ‘nice to meet you.’

‘Hello, what’s your name? My name is Milly,’ she beams staring at the hand as though wondering what to do with it, ‘my mummy said I shouldn’t talk to strangers, are you strangers? Where’s the doggy?’

‘I’m Cookey,’ Cookey grins but does drop his hand, ‘and this is Blowers,’ he points at Blowers while Milly laughs.

‘That’s funny,’ she giggles, ‘’Blowers…’

‘And that is Mr Howie,’ he nods at me.

‘Hello Milly, you’ve led us on a merry dance haven’t you?’

‘I like dancing,’ she grins a toothy smile, ‘and I like jumping,’ she adds. ‘Why are you called Mr Howie?’

‘Er, I er…’

‘Because he in charge,’ Cookey explains, ‘like a teacher.’

‘I like teachers,’ Milly announces, ‘do you like teachers Lani?’ Milly looks up at Lani, we all look at Lani who just shrugs.

‘I already told her my name, and yes Milly, I do like teachers.’

‘Dave?’

‘Yes Milly?’

‘Do you like dancing?’

‘No.’

‘Do you like ponies?’

‘No.’

‘Do you like running?’

‘Yes.’

‘I like running, can we run now?’

‘No.’

Shaking our heads in stunned amazement, we watch the girl chatter away with no hesitation. The confidence just pours from her.

‘Can we pet the doggy now? I’m hungry,’ she adds with a serious glance that implies we should be giving her food right now at this very second.

‘Come on,’ standing up straight I nod to head back the way we came, ‘have you er…said anything to her yet?’ I ask Lani.

‘Not had a chance,’ she shakes her head, ‘she hasn’t stopped talking.’

‘And we can have some cake and biscuits and read comics and then we can play hide and seek again….It’s Dave’s turn’s to hide now.’

‘Why Dave?’ Cookey asks.

‘Because he catched me, silly billy,’ she laughs, ‘and if you catch Dave then you can hide and if Lani catches you then she can hide and if I catch Lani then I can hide and if Mr Howie catches me then…’

‘Got it,’ Cookey laughs.

‘Milly?’ I ask, interrupting her mid-flow, ‘how long have you been alone for?’

‘Um…some days,’ she says quickly, ‘Mummy and Daddy went out and I waited at home and they didn’t come back so I ate the chocolate and the crisps and the sweets and they didn’t come back so I went to next door to see Carol but she wasn’t there so I ate her chocolate and her crisps…I know where Carol keeps her chocolate and crisps and I can show later when we go to my house and then…’

‘Whoa Milly, slow down,’ I laugh, ‘have you seen anyone since your mummy and daddy left?’

‘I played chase and hide and seek with the strangers, but they didn’t do talking they make funny noises,’ she laughs, ‘like daddy did one day when he fell over.’

‘Did they catch you?’ Lani asks lightly as we all listen intently.

‘No!’ Milly laughs, ‘they were slow and silly silly silly,’ she sings the last few words.

‘Christ,’ Blowers mutters staring down at the happy girl.

‘Silly silly silly billy,’ Milly sings, ‘what’s that?’ she points to the pistol on Lani’s belt.

‘That’s my gun,’ Lani replies.

‘What does it do?’

‘It shoots the…er…’ she looks round at us all for help.

‘It shoots bad people,’ Dave says flatly.

‘Bad people?’ Milly thinks for a second, ‘are the strangers bad people? I don’t like them…they don’t talk and they don’t play and they look horrible and they keep getting cuts but they don’t put plasters on and Mummy said you should put a plaster on if you cut yourself.’

‘That’s right,’ Lani says.

‘What’s that?’ She points to Lani’s meat cleaver now held in the other hand, ‘Mr Howie has a gun and Dave has a gun and Cookey has a gun and…Blowers, do you have a gun?’

‘Yes, it’s here,’ Blowers pulls it out to show her.

‘Can I shoot the bad people with the gun?’

‘No,’ Blowers says quickly putting the gun away.

‘You’re good at remembering names,’ Cookey says with a grin.

‘I am I am I am,’ Milly sings.

‘Shit!’ Blowers snaps.

‘You said a rude word,’ Milly laughs with delight, ‘Mr Howie will tell you off.’

‘Oh shit…’ Blowers spins round as we all stop to look up. ‘Big fence…’ he mutters, ‘big electric fence.’

‘What?’ Cookey asks.

‘Keeps them in,’ he hisses.

‘Keeps what in?’ Lani asks, as we turn round staring at the view.

‘There,’ Blowers points to a cluster of trees away to the right.

‘Behind too,’ Dave reports.

‘What?’ I ask, unable to see anything other than trees and bushes.

‘Oh,’ Lani whispers.

‘What!?’ I ask again. Staring in the same direction as Lani, I watch a cluster of trees. Something moves, then something else moves. Then they start moving away from the trees towards us. They break free from cover and stroll out into the open. It’s a sight so familiar from television but not something I have ever seen with my own eyes in real life.

‘Five that side and four behind,’ Dave announces, ‘the big male is behind.’

Turning round slowly, I spot the four others behind us. The big male is easily distinguishable from his size and shape.

‘Lions…fucking lions…’ I mutter in shock, ‘we’re in a safari park…in a bloody safari park…’

‘Oh Lani, Mr Howie said a rude word too,’ Milly gasps, ‘who tells Mr Howie off?’

‘I do,’ Lani replies in a distracted voice, ‘don’t say rude words Mr Howie.’

‘Sorry,’ I reply, turning to look at the five coming from the right, then back to the four behind us.

‘Probably not had any food for two weeks,’ Cookey decides to share his thoughts with us, ‘so they’ll be hungry…really hungry…’

‘Thanks mate,’ Blowers mutters.

‘Dave?’

‘Yes Mr Howie?’

‘Any experience with lions?’

‘Pistols shots will just annoy then unless you get a clean shot to the heart,’ he replies.

‘That’s good to know, you reckon you can get the hearts?’

‘No, I don’t know where the heart is.’

‘In the middle?’ Cookey half says and half asks.

‘Where in the middle?’ Dave asks.

‘What about the head?’ Lani asks.

‘Their skulls are very thick,’ Dave replies, ‘might be okay up close…but that will mean being very close.’

‘Right,’ I say quietly, ‘this all going swimmingly then. The Saxon is broken down, the fort has got some new people taking it over, we’ve lost Nick and after having a human zombie heart shoved in my mouth, we’re now in a safari park with a pack of hungry lions.’

‘Pride,’ Dave says.

‘Dave, we have pride mate, I’m just saying what our current situation is.’

‘Pride of lions, not pack Mr Howie.’

‘Oh, right…yeah got it…’

‘I wanna see the lions,’ Milly says, ‘pick me up,’ she tugs at Lani’s wrist.

‘Here,’ Cookey bends down to lift her high.

‘HELLO LIONS!’ She waves calling out in a high pitched sing song voice.

‘Get her down!’

‘Sorry boss.’ Cookey lowers the girl to the ground.

‘Milly, you have to be quiet now,’ Lani urges.

‘They’re moving slowly,’ I watch the two groups slowly stroll towards us in no apparent hurry, ‘they’re probably used to people, must have seen them every day.’

‘Yeah, when they’re being fed,’ Lani states, ‘they might associate us with food.’

‘Do we move or stay still?’ Blowers asks, his pistol out and being held ready.

‘Move slowly and don’t make any noise,’ I whisper. We start moving slowly back the way we came, slow steps one after the other as we stay huddled together with Milly in the middle.

The fence now looks much further away than it did a second ago, much, much further away. With the lions advancing from all sides, it’s our only viable escape route.

‘They’re coming but very slowly,’ Lani whispers. The two prides keep the same pace, seemingly intent on tracking us from a distance but with no effort to move in.

‘They’re flanking,’ Dave states as one lioness breaks away from the group to move off to the side.

‘Same at the back,’ Lani whispers, ‘it’s the lionesses that do the hunting isn’t it?’

‘I think so,’ I reply, trying to remember watching the documentaries.

‘Typical,’ she sighs, ‘always the women doing the work.’

‘Can we stroke the lions?’ Milly asks.

‘No,’ Lani replies, ‘Milly, you have to be really quiet now.’

‘Why Lani?’

‘Er…because we’re playing a new game,’ she whispers, ‘we are only allowed to whisper until we get back to the fence…do you think you can play that game?’

‘Yes,’ Milly whispers, ‘I like whispering, Dave, do you like whispering?’

‘Yes,’ Dave whispers.

‘Cookey, do you like whispering?’

‘I do Milly.’

‘Blowers, do you like whispering?’

‘Yes.’

‘What about Mr Howie?’ Lani asks when she doesn't ask me.

‘Teachers don’t play games,’ Milly whispers, ‘teachers watch and say the rules and they have a whistle and write things on the board.’

‘Mr Howie likes playing games,’ Lani whispers, ‘is it okay if he plays with us?’

‘Okay, Mr Howie, do you want to play with us?’

‘Yes Milly, thank you.’

‘You are only allowed to whisper until we find the fence Mr Howie.’

‘Okay Milly.’

‘This seems to be working,’ Lani says, ‘they’re not coming in any faster.’

‘Flanking though,’ Dave reports.

‘Just keep going like this and stay together, we look bigger together,’ I whisper thinking about how herds of zebra and other prey animals stay as one.

The progress is painfully, achingly slow. Shuffling along with whispered voices we gradually cross the open land back towards the slope. The lions stretch out into lines that gradually surround us. Other than that, they don’t speed up or try and move in, and they are walking upright too which gives me a sense of confidence as I thought they normally went into a crouch when they were hunting.

‘We might just make this,’ I whisper softly as the distance between us and them stays the same.

‘Where’s Clarence?’ Lani asks quickly, ‘didn’t he get over the fence?’

‘Clarence!’ I groan at the same time as Blowers takes a sharp intake of breath and Cookey swears.

‘What?’ Lani asks, ‘where is he?’

‘He’s er…about to ram that fence down with a car,’ I offer meekly.

‘What?’ Lani hisses, ‘why would he do that?’

‘Er…cos I told him…’

‘Why?’ She groans softly, ‘why would you tell him to ram the fence down on a safari park?’

‘We didn’t know it was a safari park,’ I protest.

‘What did you think it was?’

‘I don’t know! Did you know it was a safari park?’

‘No, but I figured a big fence would be used to keep something safe inside.’

‘Stop whisper shouting at me!’

‘I’m not whisper shouting,’ she whisper shouts.

‘They’re moving in,’ Dave cuts in. The lions pick their pace up, only by a fraction but enough for us all to spot the change.

Then we hear the engine. The otherwise silent environment is gradually interrupted by the loud roar of a powerful vehicle coming towards us.

‘Shit,’ Cookey whines, ‘what do we do?’

‘Nothing we can do mate’ I reply, listening to the roaring getting closer. He must have chosen something big and heavy to get that fence down.

A horrific metallic wrenching noise rolls around the open ground. The impact sends the lions scattering off a few meters. They drop low, then burst apart before coming to a standstill and watching nervously as the bloody great big four wheel drive comes slamming through the bushes.

‘Fight or flight,’ Lani says.

‘Yeah but which one?’ Cookey asks.

***

Born into captivity the pride are used to seeing humans, but with high fences surrounding their territory, the vast grounds and the structure implemented by the expertise of the safari staff, meant the actual contact from human to animal was minimised in every possible way. The tours through the grounds were strictly controlled, with staff on hand to prevent any of the drivers or their passengers from opening windows to call out, shout or make any noise other than simply driving through.

Music from car stereos was forbidden and repeated requests made for mobile phones to be switched to silent.

Feeding was done by careful means of establishing where the pride were located before depositing the food in another location, thereby encouraging the animals to scour for it rather than become lazy and dependant on the humans coming to them with food.

The owners of the safari park had also established another form of revenue that assisted with the incredible expense of keeping such a large pride of big cats. Arrangements were made with scientific study groups and film-makers that the pride could be used for observation and filming. Both groups were often intent on studying, or capturing footage of the cats when they hunted and caught their prey. At key times, when the park was closed to customers, live prey was released into the grounds. Sometimes this would be a single sheep or goat, other times larger numbers were released to follow the reactions of captivity bred lions that had become used to eating freshly killed carcasses provided for them.

The results were highly interesting and established that whilst the entire pride was captivity bred, they still retained an ability to track, hunt and kill as well as wild lions could. The hierarchy within the pride proved to be the same as those in their natural habitats, so essentially, the cats hunted the same as they did in the wild. They separated and used multi-positioning flanking movement to ensure the prey was surrounded before the strike was done.

To a certain extent, the hunting was carried out by the lionesses within the pride. With fourteen days passing since any food was provided, the entire pride was becoming hungry. A natural impulse which sent a chemical reaction through, them not entirely dissimilar to the undead. Feed, you must feed.

King was aptly named. King of the pride and the star attraction for the safari park. He dominated the vast grounds and controlled his territory with extreme aggression. There were other males within the pride but they were kept firmly in check. King was the alpha, the leader. This was his pack and King knew his pride were hungry. His own hunger was gnawing away at his stomach, but the lack of nutrition had done nothing to diminish the solidly packed muscle on the animal.

Legs like tree trunks and paws the size of dinner plates. Shoulders rippling with muscle and a thick mane that served to accentuate his size. A beast of mythical proportions with a voice that matched his size.

The movement was noted as soon as it took place. The cats have the ability to intrinsically know their environment, and the noise and movement of the humans had been spotted instantly.

Without breeze or wind, it took longer for the scent of the humans to reach them. Humans were not part of their known food group and if not for the smells that drifted on the super-heated currents of air, they may well have just watched with docile interest.

These humans, however, had been fighting and gone from battle to battle solidly for days. Their clothing was stained with the blood of the undead, a strong pungent smell that carried far and was easily detected. That tang of blood drew the pride into formation. As one, they started moving in, interested and watchful at first. Strangers on the grounds. Humans normally stayed well away and watched from afar, but these humans carried the smell of blood. Blood meant meat, meat meant food. Food was everything.

That hunger prompted King to move with the pride. He was going to feast and be the first to do so. This was his territory and his pride so this was his food. He would take this prey down.

***

‘That definitely ain’t flight,’ Cookey comments at seeing the group of lions moving in towards us.

‘Radiator’s fucked,’ shouts Blowers, turning round I can see the steam hissing from the front end as the four wheel drive bounces down the slope, the rear wheels scoring plumes of dust into the air that hangs behind it like a dirty cloud.

An almighty roar comes from behind as the big male lion starts the charge, his mouth open as he bellows, clearly telling the other lions we are his dinner time snack.

‘Oh fuck…oh fuck…’ Cookey mutters louder and louder as Milly giggles in delight at all the swear words being said around her.

‘IN,’ Clarence bellows out the window, slewing to a stop in a cloud of dust. We burst towards the vehicle wrenching doors open. Blowers scoops Milly off her feet, who laughs with absolute pleasure. Launching her onto the back seat he gets in, scrunching along as Cookey climbs in the other side. I go for the front passenger seat as Dave and Lani squeeze into the back and Clarence is already putting his foot down as the doors are closing.

The lion launches at the side of the moving vehicle, still going slow and yet to pick speed up. The impact jolts the vehicle with a thunderous crash, rocking us on the already over-worked suspension.

‘Go. Fucking go!’ Blowers yells.

‘I’m trying,’ Clarence shouts back. The lions move in, one of them landing on the bonnet and swiping at the windscreen. Clarence jerks the wheel hard, veering to the right and the lioness loses her grip and slides off.

‘Radiator’s gone,’ Clarence informs us needlessly as he tries to peer through the hissing steam pluming out the front.

‘Just keep going,’ I mutter.

Suddenly, I dive to the right as the big lion takes another go at the side. The energy from him drives one huge front leg through the window, shattering it instantly as it stretches inside. Meredith reacts instantly, lunging from the back to sink her teeth into the paw. The lion roars with pain. Trying to move with the vehicle it drops down, limping on the bleeding leg, while Meredith scrambles to get out the broken window. Grabbing a fistful of fur round her neck, I just about stop her going out, screaming for her to get back in the vehicle while she barks and snarls.

She hates the things. They tried to hurt her little one so they have to die. They killed the man that was her pack and they try to hurt this pack. Killing the things is a necessity and one that is done for protection.

Cats though? Cats can fuck off. She hates cats. She hates the way they leave their scent everywhere, and how offensive the stench is to her nose. The things she kills for necessity, but cats are done for blind, psychotic rage, an instinct buried deep that all cats have to be killed. Regardless of anything else, all cats must die.

These are big but they smell like cats. They are cats. Big, nasty cats that want to fight. The urge to kill them takes over as she scrambles to get out the window. Getting her teeth into that big meaty leg was good but now she wants more. The pack leader is shouting for her to stop but he doesn't know just how much she hates cats.

She really hates cats.

Cats must die.

‘Fucking hell,’ I scream out trying to pull the dog back inside. ‘Help!’ Yelping out, I see hands stretching over from the back to grab at her coat, tail and legs as we desperately try to pull her back in.

Another lion runs at the passenger window, or the gap where the bloody window was a few seconds ago. Meredith surges forward, fighting like crazy to attack it. The cat launches up with a wide snarling mouth full of horrendously big teeth. Meredith is there, head out and savaging as she bites and gnashes. The sheer ferocity of her attack sends the cat dropping back as Clarence veers to the side again.

‘What’s got into her?’ Clarence glances over with a pained look. The constant veering has plunged us into a swirling dustbowl that cuts our vision down and clouds the passenger window, ‘Can’t see a fucking thing,’ he bellows.

‘Keep going…just keep moving…MEREDITH STOP IT!’ I wrench her back with all my strength but she fights on, digging her paws into my legs and side as she tries to wrestle free. Blowers dives in between the gap of the front seats, his hands stretching out to grab and hold as we become tangled in legs, tails and bodies all wriggling and shouting.

With Blowers on top of me and the others leaning forward to try and help, I catch a glimpse through the entwined mess to see Milly bouncing up and down on the back seat, clapping her hands and laughing with pure delight.

‘Shit!’ Clarence shouts having got a glimpse through the dust to see that we are heading further into the grounds and away from the slope.

‘You said a bad word,’ Meredith laughs, ‘everyone says bad words…shit…shit…shit…’ she screams out, half laughing at the same time.

‘Milly, stop swearing,’ I shout through the melee and the barking dog, ‘and everyone else stop bloody swearing too!’

‘Mr Howie said a bad word,’ Milly laughs.

‘Wait till she meets Nick,’ Blowers mutters through gritted teeth, somehow managing to get his arms wrapped over Meredith’s backside and interlocking his hands under her stomach. She pays no heed, no heed whatsoever to so many hands holding her back. She could easily turn and start biting us but thankfully she remains fixated on the lions still charging in.

Smashing glass comes at the same time as a huge impact at the rear of the vehicle, showering Milly in the small glittering fragments. Blowers and Cookey, both leaning forward to grab Meredith, scream as the dog twists from our grip to launch and clamber over the back seat to get at the lioness sticking her head through the rear window.

Bedlam. Complete and utter bedlam ensues as we all end up going with Meredith. She does the job and once more fends the cat off with a double row of big canine teeth that sink into a foot, before resuming her efforts to get out the back window.

Six adults, one child and a bloody great big dog crammed into a four wheel drive that is now clunking and clanging with unhealthy noises. Not only that but those bodies within said vehicle are clambering, screaming and fighting to prevent the bloody great big dog from getting out.

‘Where are we?’ I yell out unable to see anything, half jammed through the gap in the seats and mostly buried under everyone else’s body.

‘In a safari park,’ Cookey shouts, still able to get a quip in despite the circumstances.

‘I don’t know,’ Clarence muffled voice comes from the front, ‘I’m looking for a fence or a way out.’

‘INCOMING,’ Dave dives on top of Milly as another impact from the driver’s side rocks the vehicle. Claws dig into metal panels, filling the air with a sound like nails on a blackboard. Another impact from the back, then another from the passenger side. Meredith spins as she catches fleeting glimpses of big cats lunging through the choking dust.

‘I need a poo!’ Milly announces, ‘can we stop please?’

‘Not now,’ Clarence bellows.

‘Who are you? Milly asks with a tone that suggests she should know everyone.

‘Clarence,’ Clarence shouts as I get the full impact of Meredith into my stomach as she spins to attack another window.

‘My name is Milly, ‘Milly says happily, ‘I like lions and cats and elephants and…’

‘Shit!’ Clarence roars and I feel the vehicle lurch violently to the side followed by a massive impact to the passenger door.

‘You alright?’ Lani’s face appears next to mine except she’s upside down, or maybe I’m upside down. One of us is upside down anyway.

‘Fine, you?’ I reply casually while trying to keep my hands on the leg I am gripping and being constantly battered by the crazed dog’s tail.

‘Yeah you know,’ Lani smiles, ‘keeping busy.’

‘Oh that’s good,’ I grunt, ‘better to be busy.’

‘ATTACK FROM THE REAR.’ Dave’s voice fills the confined space. Lani disappears, whipped away by Meredith deciding she is now going to try for the back window again which means we all go with her.

‘This place is huge,’ Clarence informs us amidst the carnage of the rear section, ‘and we’re losing power,’ he adds.

‘Losing power?’ I yelp, ‘find a way out then!’

‘Yeah trying,’ he remarks.

‘Milly, go up front with Clarence,’ Lani shouts, ‘she’s gonna get squashed in the back here…axes and knives everywhere.’

‘Milly, come up here,’ Clarence calls out followed swiftly by a small, shoe clad foot squashing my face as she steps on me.

‘I want to drive,’ she settles on his lap safely nestled between the side impact bars of his gorilla like arms.

‘Maybe later, look for a fence.’

‘Cookey, get your arse off my face,’ I yell.

‘That’s my arse Mr Howie,’ Blowers shouts.

‘Not surprised,’ Cookey laughs as Meredith goes back to the front passenger window.

‘FENCE!’ Clarence shouts, ‘BRACE…’

‘On what? With what?...’ I scream out but it’s too late. The barking is drowned out by the front end colliding with something big and metallic which I can only guess is another big chain link fence.

‘ANOTHER ONE…’ Clarence bellows above the noise of twisting metal and groaning car panels. The sounds comes back again, shuddering and jolting the vehicle violently, shaking us all over the place as he punches through.

It seems to go on for hours, a constant scream of metal being warped and torn apart. Then, suddenly, it’s all over and the vehicle coasts along quietly.

‘Have we stopped?’ I shout out, getting the eerie sensation of no longer being in motion.

‘Yep,’ Clarence answers clearly.

‘Oh…why?’

‘Do lions like Gorilla’s?’ Clarence asks.

‘Don’t…don’t say it…’

‘Yeah…about that,’ he says drily.

Fighting through the limbs and bodies, I manage to pull myself through the gap and into the backseat, shaking my head before peering up over the back seat. The trail of destruction behind us is immense; two big chain link fences torn apart with the twisted remains poking up all over the place.

The lions have stopped on their side, clearly wary of passing over the metallic panels that lie blocking the route. They must be aware of the fence being electrified and, even now with the power off, they still hold well back.

‘Time to go,’ I announce, ‘keep hold of the dog someone.’

‘I got her,’ Blowers replies. The doors, impacted by the charging lions have to be forced open from the warping of the frame as we clamber out nursing bruised appendages. Clarence holds Milly in one arm and looks very at home in the Gorilla enclosure. Stick a black fur coat on him and he’d blend right in.

Meredith’s eyes stay fixed on the trail behind us, as though daring that pride of cats to try and come after us.

We retrieve our axes from the car and set off, moving quickly away from the vehicle before the lions decide to try and get through. However, hunger is a powerful motivator and within minutes the lions are edging closer to the gaping hole.

Scurrying on, we stay together, advancing into lusher, green pastures with long grass and sturdy trees covered in ropes with tyres attached.

Over another crest and we start dropping down and out of sight of the fence line. A large, old fashioned wooden shack lies nestled in the grounds looking like something from a fairy tale. Cresting the apex the gorillas are immediately obvious, clustered in a large group of about a dozen primates. They range in size from tiny tots no bigger than Milly, to their very own Clarence, except their Clarence makes our Clarence look like scrawny teenager.

The male Silverback is huge, with shoulders that seem to stretch away from an enormous broad head, and arms like a steroid pumped wrestler. His chest is just staggering, so powerful, so strong and he doesn't flinch at the sight of us rushing towards them.

There is no threat to him. He could snap any of us in half and use our limbs as toothpicks if he so desired. Even the sound of the fence crashing down doesn't seem to have perturbed them. Sitting in small groups close together, several are well into a grooming session, rummaging through their thick black fur to find mites and bugs to eat.

They look as we approach but that’s it. We hold no greater interest to them than a small crowd, walking down an average High Street on a Saturday afternoon and I guess they are used to close human contact from living in this sanctuary for so long.

Even Meredith goes quiet. Nose down and sniffing the ground she keeps glancing up to view the animals warily but fortunately doesn't growl or show her teeth.

‘They relatives of yours Clarence?’ Cookey whispers.

‘I knew one of you would say it,’ he grumbles, still holding an enraptured Milly staring at the Gorillas. ‘This one needs a bath,’ he adds turning his head away from the small girl.

Slowing down, we take it easy and keep to furthest edge of the clearing. No one speaks other than very low whispers, and we keep our eye contact to a minimum.

However, going along with our current trend of everything fucking up, the big Silverback slowly rises to his feet showing us just how bloody enormous he really is; easily standing the same height as Clarence at well over six feet.

‘He’s got to be thirty stone,’ Clarence mutters, ‘easily…look at him!’

‘Why is he getting up?’ Lani whispers. The others gorillas start moving back away from us, some low noises sounding out. The way the females scoop the young up to hold close is so similar to human behaviour it’s staggering.

‘Not us,’ Dave says in a low voice and a glance behind. Turning slowly, I catch sight of the big alpha male lion standing proud on the crest of the hill. Squat and with the lush meadow rolling away beneath him he looks every inch the king of all he purveys.

‘Fuck,’ Cookey mutters, ‘fucking stand-off between a silverback and a lion…no way…no fucking way…’

‘Mr Howie, Cookey said rude words again…you said…’

‘Yes I know Milly, Cookey don’t keep swearing.’

‘Sorry, sorry Milly,’ Cookey whispers, ‘who would win?’

‘What these two? The lion easily,’ Blowers replies.

‘No way,’ Clarence says, ‘a silverback will beat a lion.’

‘Get off would it,’ I scoff, ‘a lion is made to kill…look at it…’

‘Yeah, they’re about the same weight,’ Clarence whispers urgently, ‘but the silverback has something like ten times the strength of a human male, his arms are over two metres long.’

‘What each?’ Cookey asks.

‘No you twat, the arm span,’ Blowers hisses.

‘Oh…I’m with Clarence, that Gorilla would tear it apart,’ Cookey says.

Still shuffling along, we keep tightly together glancing back and forth between the gorilla and the lion. Neither of them move, but the lion has clearly breached the gorilla’s territory. The lion however, must be bloody hungry because despite the size of the primate, he isn’t moving away.

The gorilla moves forward, a clear sign of advancement to protect his pack. The lion looks down with an almost scornful look and I can imagine the rest of his pride gathered behind him.

‘Lani? What do you reckon?’ Cookey asks.

‘I don’t care,’ Lani hisses, ‘I’m not getting drawn into another stupid conversation in the middle of another life-threatening situation. Can we just be quiet and get out of here in one piece.’

‘Okay,’ Cookey whispers, ‘Dave? What do you think?’ He asks moving straight on as Lani rolls her eyes with frustration.

‘First we have to understand the skills and advantages of each combatant,’ Dave speaks in his flat tone, ‘they both weight about thirty stone each so weight is equalled out. The lion has enormous explosive strength to propel is forward for attack whereas the gorilla has incredible static strength and could tear the lion apart with ease…’

‘Told you,’ Clarence cuts in.

‘But,’ Dave cuts in himself, ‘the lion is designed to attack and fight, that’s pretty much all it knows so it has the advantage of aggression and experience.’

‘Ha!’ Blowers whispers in triumph, ‘the lion wins.’

‘Having said that,’ Dave continues as we keep shuffling on down the side of the clearing, ‘the gorilla effectively has four hands and incredibly dense muscle and bone. The lion would need to get a good grip and avoid being beaten by those arms if it stands any chance of winning.’

Seconds pass while we wait for him to continue, only he doesn't, he just tails off into normal Dave silence.

‘So?’ I prompt him.

‘So what?’ He asks.

‘Who would win?’

‘I don’t know,’ he replies to a low chorus of groans from the lads.

‘If you had to choose?’ I press him.

‘Why would I have to choose?’ He asks.

‘Say someone put a gun to your head and said pick one.’

‘I’d kill him,’ Dave answers promptly which takes me back to that bloody conversation we had about the glass of water.

‘Does it really matter?’ Lani seethes, ‘can we just get out of here please.’

‘We are,’ I protest. We watch in complete fascination as the lion starts a slow walk down the hill. The gorilla darts forward while making loud noises then stands upright to wave its arms about. The other gorillas start yelping in high pitched barks and yelps. The tension ramps up within seconds as the lion slowly ambles down the slope and shows no signs of being intimidated.

‘We should run,’ Lani whispers, ‘run now.’

‘No,’ Dave responds, ‘don’t draw attention, just keep moving slowly.’

‘Is the monkey gonna play with the lion?’ Milly asks in a voice that is far, far too loud, immediately getting shushed by every one of us.

‘It’s not a monkey it’s an ape,’ Dave says once the shushes have ceased.

‘Dave,’ Lani warns, ‘don’t start them off again.’

‘What’s the difference then?’ Cookey asks to a low groan from Lani.

‘Not sure,’ Dave replies, ‘the tail I think…monkeys have tails I think.’

Panic ripples through the gorillas, screaming and yelping in fear and fright at the sight of the big cat stalking towards them.

The silverback stands his ground, slamming his huge fists onto the ground while roaring and jumping about. The message is abundantly clear but still the lion comes on. Step after casual step, head held steady and eyes fixed on the big primate.

The silverback charges in and stops again, a threatening motion designed to send the predator scurrying off. Only the lion doesn’t scurry off but keeps coming.

The action is obvious. The lion is hungry and wants food, he has his own pride to take care off. The silverback is the protector of his group so the end result is pre-destined. A pause between them, the lion goes stock still, the gorilla the same. For a second it looks like that might be it, but one of them must twitch or make a movement as they both suddenly charge, running at each other flat out.

The sight is indescribable, the two biggest animals I have ever seen about to attack each other. The lion leaps with predictability but that’s only from having watched so many documentaries. The gorilla, I guess, hasn’t spent much time in front of the Discovery channel and maybe isn’t aware of the lions basic attack method.

He chooses to meet the attack full on with head down and shoulders ready to slam the beast back. The collision is a dull thud of solid meat hitting solid meat.

They go at it. Snarling, twisting fangs that lunge while paws swipe and lash out. The gorilla moves with incredible speed, beating those huge arms down again and again. Evenly matched and neither has the advantage. The lion feints and comes in again. The gorilla presses the attack home, driving its arms into the beast’s flanks with thuds we can hear from this distance.

The lion shows no reaction but rears up on hind legs with the front paws slashing down to rake the front of the gorilla. They break away to circle and snarl. Blood is clearly visible on the gorillas chest from the deadly claws of the big cat. Bang, they go again. Both lunging at the same time to meet with a force that would see even the biggest men be killed outright.

Both take a beating. The lion must suffer broken ribs from the blows rained down and how the hell its spine doesn't snap from the power of the gorilla’s fists is beyond me. The lion uses those huge teeth with jaws extended to bite and savage, claws raking again and again. Blood sprays out as the rage and pain between them builds.

Still shuffling I become aware of just how insignificant we really are. These creatures would spend their entire lives living peacefully in accordance with the rules laid down by nature. Neither wants to fight and neither does it for pleasure.

The lion needs to eat. The gorilla needs to defend his group. That’s it. It is humbling and awe-inspiring at the same time. Our species would do anything to wipe each other out, wars, famine, disease and violence everyday but here, right here there is the true savagery of nature at all its grittiest best.

If we ceased to be right now, if we simply lay down to die and all our species did the same,  life would just keep going. Gorillas would sit and groom each other. Lions would lie in the shade and sleep between meals.

These generations of animals will die, but their species will continue and the new-borns would never know of the race that once dominated this planet.

Entranced and unable to stop watching, we view the most awful of battles taking place. Lion against gorilla and they are so evenly matched that the end is just un-knowable. The gorillas strength is his greatest asset and when he co-ordinates he dominates the lion with ease, throwing him away like a disused tissue.

The lion is ferocious beyond compare, attacking again and again with ceaseless violence and a thirst for blood greater than the undead. The sounds are terrible, rendering all of us speechless and I for one can feel a tear falling down my face from the majesty of the creatures fighting. Something about being attacked by the lions and the peaceful nature of the gorilla has me clearly on his side, willing the primate to be victorious.

Blood is spilt, flesh is torn and bones are broken but still they refuse to yield. The explosive energy expended again and again now takes its toll as both animals move slower, both of them breathing so hard but still lunging again and again. They will never yield. There is no option. Both of their groups depend on them to do this, their very survival hinges on one of them winning.

With a move that makes me gasp, the lion launches with a roar that rolls over the ground. The gorilla is too slow to react. The lion sinks teeth into the gorillas face and they both go down. The lion has grip and refuses to let go. The gorilla beats and beats against the lion with bone snapping power. Both of them sink, the strength waning as they cling to each other in the final throes. The lion just refuses to relinquish the bite. The gorilla screams but still he fights until his thick arms loop over the lions back and squeeze as the gorilla pushes up to stand upright.

Still the lion clings on, hanging from the gorillas face by the power in its jaws. Blood sprays from the wounds, but the gorilla squeezes harder and harder, driving the lions magnificent chest inwards.

Bones are crushed, lungs are restricted and the lion cannot draw breath but my god that animal will never let go. Upright they dance round in a movement that gets slower with every step. Sinking down, the gorilla gives one final hefty pull, snapping the spine of the animal with a strength  unknown in nature.

The lion is killed outright and pushed away as his jaws finally unclamp. With a heave, the gorilla pushes it off but the damage is done. The creatures face is ruined, eyes gone and punctured with wounds down to the bone. Blood pours out as it sucks in air in a desperate fight to stay alive.

Without realising it, we’re all rooted to the spot. No longer shuffling or trying to get away but witness to something that has probably never been seen before and probably never will be again. Tears stream down my face and I’m not the only one. All of us are choked at the sight, even Clarence stares with misted eyes at the utter heart-breaking sadness of watching two magnificent beasts destroy each other.

‘Gorilla then,’ Dave nods, the only one of us with a dry eye. Even Milly has turned to sink her head into Clarence’s neck but not Dave. The cold bastard watched the whole thing with professional disinterest and for the most fleeting of seconds I hate his coldness and I hate him for the lack of compassion he has.

‘We go now,’ he prompts us all. I have to look away, simply unable to look back to watch the gorilla die. The rest of the pride will probably move in now and the same thing will happen again as the females go at each other.

We don’t shuffle now but start moving faster and faster, a brisk walk that builds to a jog as we run through the enclose searching for an exit. In silence, in oppressive silence and oppressive heat we run and get away.

Thirty Two

The van rolls to a gradual stop and waits. The driver watches the cluster of armed men stood between the two vast stone pillars. A high wall newly topped with coils of razor wire runs off in both directions.

With the engine idling, the driver waits for the men to approach him, absorbed in his own thoughts at what he’ll say and whether to be completely honest or not.

‘Vince,’ one armed man nods. Stepping up to the open driver’s window, he peers into the cab and takes in the silent form of Billy and the absence of the other man. ‘You on your own then?’

‘Yeah,’ Vince nods, still undecided whether to be truthful or lie. Whatever he says now will have to be the story he sticks with.

‘Something happen then?’ The guard asks.

‘Yeah,’ Vince nods grimly but with a lack of elaboration the driver nods and signals to the main gate, ‘open up…’ere Vince,’ the guard calls out before Vince drives forward, ‘you seen Terry and John? They were due back hours ago.’

‘No mate,’ Vince shakes his head and slowly eases the van forward, waiting for the truck parked inside the gates to be moved. Sandbags stacked high by the entrance, with a garden shed hastily erected to serve as a guard hut.

Vince nods back, noticing the confused and puzzled looks as they see he is now alone. The guard that approached him shouts that he has a boy, which sends a ripple of fresh interest buzzing through the other guards as they move in to peer in the windows.

Billy stays quiet, watching the hard faces staring in at him. With Todd gone he feels desperately alone and terrified. Vince is quiet and doesn't shout like the other man did, but he’s still scary.

‘You’ll like it here,’ Vince says, the first conversational words he has said since seeing Nick stood over his mate. ‘It’s nice,’ he adds with a quick glance down at the lad.

Billy looks up but doesn't say anything, too frightened to speak or move.

‘We got lots of nice food,’ Vince tries to smile but the humour isn’t there and it quickly dies off. ‘There are other boys here too, so you got friends to play with.’ Vince knows what questions the boy will be asked so this is the last effort to imprint a memory in the boys head. ‘Comfy beds and loads of toys, do you like football? We got football, and games, and we got a pond with fish,’ Vince explains, ‘but the best thing,’ he tries to entice some interest from Billy, ‘is the swimming pool eh? We got a swimming pool…do you like swimming…No? Suit yourself,’ Vince shrugs.

The long road sweeps through green, manicured grounds of lush grass dotted with ancient oaks and willow trees. Benches rest under the shade offered by the hanging branches but there is no sign of life here. Everything feels empty and void.

‘Look at that Billy,’ Vince points forward with one paltry last ditch attempt to impress the boy. Billy feels he is being instructed rather than requested so sits up to look forward. The big house coming into view is impressive, grand and old fashioned, like something from a movie. Chapsworth House is one of the best known stately homes in the south and unlike many others it was privately owned and still used as a domestic residence.

‘Got fish in there,’ Vince points to the water fountain in the middle of the circular parking area, a big stone feature that pumps water from tiny spouts to trickle down into the wide, lily covered bowl. The fact that the fish are soon to be dead from the lack of oxygenated water now the pump has been switched off is not imparted to Billy.

With the van stopped, Vince pauses as he stares at the big double doors, a final chance to think of what to say. The consternation is clear on his features as he opens the door, motioning with his head for Billy to come out. The passenger door had been locked shortly after driving off, no way was he going to risk losing both of them.

‘Vince! You’re back,’ a man calls out. He has a deep hard voice tinged with a cockney accent, ‘and who have we got here then?’ The new man grins at the sight of Billy.

‘This is Billy,’ Vince calls out.

‘Hello Billy! Would you like a lollipop?’ The man crouches and draws a wrapped lolly from a pocket, slowly stretching his hand out while giving Billy an enormous grin, ‘my name is Larson…well that’s not my first name, it’s my surname, but everyone calls me Larson and I don’t mind,’ Larson speaks quick and soft, ‘you must be tired from all that driving, come inside and have something nice to drink yeah? Come on Billy,’ Larson stands up while holding his hand out for Billy to take, a smooth motion and now well practised.

Billy stares at the lollipop he is now holding. He didn’t want to take the lollipop but it was like he didn’t have a choice and he had to take the lollipop. Lilly always said he had to remember his manners. ‘Thank you for the lollipop,’ he says in a small voice.

‘Hey! Billy has wonderful manners,’ Larson grins at Vince, ‘I am very impressed. Now you come with me young Billy because we have a lovely man you need to meet.’

Larson gently steps in to grasp Billy’s hand, not a hard grip but with just enough force to prompt Billy into walking with him. ‘You coming Vince?’

‘Nah, I was gonna get the van unloaded.’

‘Best come in Vince,’ Larson says in a light tone but the order is clearly understood, ‘the gate guard said you were alone.’

‘Yeah er…’

‘Not now Vince, that can wait,’ Larson says grinning down at Billy. ‘This is called Chapsworth House Billy, some very rich people lived here but they don’t anymore so we use it now. It’s got tons of rooms and loads of really cool things inside. Did Vince tell you about the swimming pool?’

‘I did,’ Vince replies quickly. Walking behind them he can feel the nerves starting to build and entering the confines of the house only adds to the worry.

‘I was asking Billy, wasn’t I Billy?’ Larson grins down. Behind them, Vince winces slightly at the rebuke. They’re not happy. Suddenly, the idea he had of just driving off somewhere very far away doesn't seem such a bad one.

‘Well Billy, this is what we call the main hall. Big isn’t it?’ Larson chatters on, pointing certain bits out while Billy stares in wonder at the size of the rooms. A grand staircase sweeps up to the first floor. The floors are carpeted with thick, patterned rugs everywhere and the walls are panelled in dark wood but with lots of brightly coloured paintings hanging. Children laughing from somewhere unseen floats through the air.

‘Oohh got another one, have we?’ A large built woman waddles from a room, wearing a white apron over an old fashioned floral dress. She beams at Billy, her face ruddy and smiling with naturally smiling eyes.

‘We have,’ Larson replies happily, ‘this is Billy and he’s got wonderful manners.’

‘Has he now,’ the woman grins like this news is the best she has ever heard, ‘we like manners here.’

‘Billy, this is Meryl. Meryl makes all our delicious food and she makes scrummy puddings too.’

‘Oh get off,’ Meryl laughs at the compliment, ‘He just wants seconds,’ she says to Billy, ‘but you look like a boy with a good appetite and I bet you’re hungry aren’t you my love?’

Billy smiles shyly for the first time since being taken, and feels a sudden urge to rush in and hug the big woman.

‘OOOHHH,’ Meryl cries with a laugh, ‘we got a smile then Larson.’

‘Did we?’ Larson looks down, ‘well look at that.’

Vince stands back, feeling very excluded from the goings on. He glances round like he’s looking for an escape route.

‘Well, we’ll come back to see Meryl in a little while,’ Larson says with a quick look at Vince.

‘I’ll have something nice to eat all ready for you,’ Meryl grins, ‘and some clean clothes too,’ she remarks at the state of the young lad.

Moving away, the man leads Billy down a long hallway, pointing out portraits and funny paintings hanging on the walls. The chatter is constant and done with the same friendly, light tone.

Billy stares down behind to see where the nice big lady went. He doesn't want to go up here with this man but Lilly said he has to do as he is told. Mummy and Daddy also said he shouldn’t talk to strangers, but that’s confusing now because these people are strangers but he doesn't know anyone so does that mean they are still strangers?

The shock of the previous evening, of seeing his father and Norman killed, has been buried deep. His young mind is unable to process the understanding of what he saw, and in the frontal parts of Billy’s mind he still considers his father and Lilly to be coming here to take him back.

‘You’ll like it here Billy,’ Larson says with a friendly tone, ‘we’ve got a very special person for you to meet now. He is the man that has got all of this arranged just so we can look after all the children that got lost.’

Billy thinks he wasn’t lost. He was lost once when he went to the big shopping centre with Mummy. It was a Saturday and all the shops were full of people. He only let go of Mummy’s hand for a few minutes as he wanted to look at the toys. When he couldn’t see her there was a funny feeling in his tummy, like he was very scared and didn’t know what to do. All the people were strangers and they ignored him, they were all talking to each other and walking about. He did what he was told and found somebody in a uniform to tell, then waited until his mummy came. She was crying when she got there, like she was really upset about something and kept telling Billy off for walking away but giving him hugs and kisses at the same time.

He wasn’t lost last night. He was with his daddy and Lilly. Maybe the man thinks he was lost.

‘…and here we are,’ Larson says, coming to a stop in front of a set of double doors. He grins down and knocks on the door, light taps that are done in quick succession. ‘Doc, I’ve got young Billy here to meet you,’ he calls out.

Billy waits with his hand still being held by Larson. The house is clean and the big windows let lots of light inside. He stares round with wide eyes which snap back to the door at hearing the heavy footsteps on the other side.

Larson grins again with clear delight in his eyes but Billy doesn't like him, he keeps smiling too much.

Slowly the door swings inwards, hinges creaking noisily into the quietness of the hallway. Billy feels the hand of Larson twitch and grip just that little bit harder.

‘Hello young man,’ a deep voice rolls from the room into the hallway as Billy looks up at the face of the Doc staring down.

Thirty Three

Turns out the Gorilla enclosure isn’t that easy to break out from. High fences strong enough to withstand the strongest primates in the world prove to be quite difficult for us too.

There was a choice of course; going back the way we came involved meeting the lions again, which on reflection didn’t appear to the best move.

As close as our species are to Gorillas, the one thing we have is tool use and equipped with axes we manage to get the big gates open by snapping through the locks and chains. That means the lion and gorilla enclosures are now breached but is that such a bad thing? The animals stand a better chance of survival if they can get out to find food.

The path leads us down to what we thought was a service road. But then we saw the repeated signs telling people to stay within their vehicles and keep the windows closed. So we’re on a road that leads through another part of the park and one that has animals within it. The only problem is, we don’t know what kind of animals yet.

The very recent sight of the fight between the Gorilla and the Lion have left us quiet and withdrawn. We’re all used to seeing death and have given it out many times, but this was different. It was the futility of it, the valiant struggle between two opposing species that just wanted to survive.

‘Shit…shit…shit,’ Milly sings, clearly not bothered by the gruesome sight we just witnessed.

‘Milly,’ Lani warns in a low voice, ‘don’t say rude words.’

‘But you all say rude words,’ Milly protests, ‘and Mr Howie doesn't tell anyone off.’

‘Right listen in,’ I say with a firm voice, ‘there is to be no more swearing is that understood? Anyone who swears will be given a very bad punishment, got it?’

‘Yes Mr Howie,’ Blowers replies seriously.

‘Got it Sir,’ Cookey nods.

‘See,’ Lani says, ‘Mr Howie has told everyone off.’

‘Will we see hefalamps?’ Milly switches topic swiftly again.

‘Hefalamps? Er…oh elephants!’ Cookey works it out a few seconds behind the rest of us.

‘We have to find a way out,’ Lani explains.

‘I like hefelamps, they eat bananas…I like bananas…do you like bananas Lani?’

‘Yes Milly, I like them very much.’

‘Do you like bananas Cookey?’

‘I love bananas!’ Cookey says and so it goes, each of us being asked if we like bananas, which we all do.

‘…and I like apples,’ Milly announces, ‘do you apples Lani?’

‘We all love apples, all of us…we all really like them,’ Blowers tries cutting her off.

‘Lani do you like apples?’ Blower’s strategy fails dismally, so while stalking through a new section of the safari park and keeping a very close eye out, we have to go through every fruit that Milly can think off, which is pretty much limited to bananas, apples and oranges.

‘What about pears?’ Cookey asks mischievously to some muted groans.

‘I don’t like pears,’ Milly replies then lapses into a very rare silence.

‘Oh,’ Cookey seems deflated as Blowers sniggers next to him.

‘You really need a wash young lady,’ Clarence exhales, carrying Milly along in one arm.

‘Lani will wash me,’ Milly tells us all, ‘cos you are men and men shouldn’t wash girls,’ she says in a very serious voice. ‘So Lani can wash me and she can wash my hair and wash my face and brush my hair and we can wear dresses.’

‘Now that I’d love to see,’ I snort at the thought of Lani in a summer dress.

‘And what’s wrong with that?’ Lani asks with a pointed stare.

‘Nothing,’ I reply quickly, ‘er…no er…be lovely to see you in a dress just er…you know er…doesn't fit the current er…image.’

‘Well recovered,’ Clarence mutters.

‘Thanks mate.’

‘I’m right here,’ Lani protests, ‘I can hear you both and I look nice in a summer dress.’

‘Oh I’m sure,’ I try harder at the recovery.

‘I can’t exactly run round the country killing zombies in a frock can I?’ She insists.

‘No, look I didn’t mean you…’

‘Just because I wear trousers and boots doesn't mean I can’t wear a dress.’

‘Yes I know I was…look forget it okay? Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh.’

‘Yes well,’ she huffs, ‘maybe Milly and I will put some nice dresses on then.’

‘That would be awesome,’ Cookey laughs, ‘but where would you put the meat cleaver?’

‘And the pistol?’ Blowers adds.

‘Handbag?’ Lani suggests to a round of snorts.

‘Don’t worry,’ Dave cuts in with his telling off voice, ‘I’ll keep watch for the animals behind us shall I?’

‘Cheers Dave,’ I say happily, turning round to see a shit load of small monkeys running after us.

‘What are they?’ I ask.

‘Monkeys,’ Dave replies.

‘Really?’ I ask.

‘Yes Mr Howie,’ he nods seriously.

‘Those are the naughty ones that run over the cars,’ Cookey says.

‘Naughty ones?’ Blowers laughs, ‘they naughty are they? Mr Howie, you’ll have to tell the naughty monkeys off.’

‘Piss off,’ Cookey sighs.

‘Cookey,’ I warn, ‘what did I say about swearing?’

‘Sorry Mr Howie,’ he apologies quickly, ‘sorry Milly.’

‘Can we stroke the monkeys?’ Milly asks.

‘I don’t think so,’ Lani replies.

‘Lani?’ Milly starts and we all wait for the question, all of us watching the little girl and grinning when it finally comes out, ‘do you like monkeys?’

‘Yes Milly,’ Lani laughs, ‘I like monkeys. We each wait our turn again as she goes from person to person asking the question.

‘Milly, how old are you?’ I realise none of us have asked.

‘I am six,’ she says proudly. Holding up one hand with the fingers extended, she seems to think for a second before holding up one more finger from her other hand.

‘Rhesus monkeys,’ Dave, as ever, brings our attention back to the current situation. The little monkeys suddenly don’t look quite so little as they run and scamper closer towards us. Ranging in size and weight, there are well over seventy of them, just a sea of bobbing, jumping, brown bodies.

‘Dave!’ I call out at seeing him draw his pistol.

‘What?’ He turns to look at me.

‘You can’t shoot them.’

‘I was going to scare them,’ he explains.

‘Why? They won’t hurt us,’ I reply firmly, ‘come on, keep going.’

‘Er…you sure Mr Howie?’ Cookey asks warily, ‘they ain’t slowing down.’

‘What? Get off! We just met lions and gorillas, what are little monkeys going to do? Trip us up?’

Walking on, we keep glancing round as they bound over. Then they’re with us. Running and skipping between us while making little monkey chattering noises. Tons of them all over the place. Running alongside of us, then in front and within a few seconds they’re getting in amongst us. We all grin and laugh at the sight, fascinated at being so close to so many apparently happy animals.

Apart from Meredith, who trots along with a look that suggests she might try for one any second.

‘Monkeys!’ Milly laughs with delight, ‘that one is doing a poo! Can I touch one? Please Clarence, can I touch one?’

‘They might bite,’ Clarence explains and I’ve noticed he is holding Milly a little bit higher and a little bit closer. Even the lads have moved in closer to form a barrier between her and the monkeys.

We keep walking while the monkeys seem content to run alongside and amongst us. Then they start getting braver and no doubt spurred on by the same hunger the lions have, they start jumping onto legs to grab at pockets.

‘OI!’ Cookey is the first to get attacked, well not attacked but more of an attempt at sticky fingered pilfering. Shooing the animal off, it scurries away jabbering noisily but the precedent has been set. The brave explorer monkey got onto the leg and off again without being injured. The sight is seen by many other monkeys who all now want to get onto legs and check pockets.

‘FUCK OFF!’ Blowers shouts as he gets one on each leg. Clarence hoists Milly onto his shoulders, the little girl laughing as she clutches his big bald head with her tiny arms. With one hand now free, he gets ready to swat them away as they launch in.

Funny thing is they don’t go anywhere near the dog, only us. Meredith seems to understand the lack of threat and just walks along watching everything with interest.

Dave doesn't seem bothered by it all, but calmly flicks each one away as it pounces. For a second, I thought he might be cutting little monkey throats behind me. Lani clearly isn’t impressed and for the first time since we met, she shows her feminine side by yelping and giving little screams every time they touch her.

Recognising a chance to make up for my faux-pas and also seeing an opportunity to be heroic and brave, I step in and try to keep them away from her. She clings to my side panicking and shaking whenever they jump up.

With so many, and more of them joining in every second, it’s all we can do to just keep moving and try and stop them all clinging on. One gets on my back and stays there, quite happily gripping hold of my hair while I try and prise another from Lani’s leg. Another jumps to my shoulder, then another on my leg. Clarence gets swarmed, the big man having much more body for them clamber over and Milly loves the sight, laughing until tears are falling down her face.

‘Run!’ I yell out, we try jogging but get hampered by the bouncy little shits running in front of us. They are so nimble and accurate that there is very little chance of actually kicking one by mistake, it’s just completely disconcerting to be running amongst so many moving objects.

Running does nothing other than make us hotter. The monkeys certainly don’t mind us running and for a few minutes it looks like we might be stuck with them until we find a way out. Then a mistake is made. A line is crossed which changes everything in a split second. One of the monkeys, possibly a Cookey type monkey that is always trying to push the boundaries, gets brave and tries to jump on Meredith.

Now the dog seemed quite happy for us to get swarmed and surprisingly didn’t show any real reaction, but one on her? Not happening. She erupts into a frenzied fury of snarling, barking, gnashing teeth. Hair on end, tail curled up and suddenly the area is devoid of monkeys. Eighty or so brown bodies star bursting away and being chased by Meredith.

‘Thank god,’ Cookey gasps.

‘Little sods,’ Blowers groans, ‘they were going for everything, one almost got my pistol out.’

‘MEREDITH….COME BACK,’ Dave bellows as she goes haring off chasing them. She slows down and starts trotting back, but not without the very occasional glance to see if they’re trying it again.

‘Good girl!’ I say as she re-joins us, all of giving her some fuss and rubs. The jabbering sound dies off as they get further away. All of a sudden, the noise is getting louder again.

Spinning round, we see the carpet of brown bodies coming back at us, and this time a lot faster.

‘The hole,’ Clarence mutters, ‘the hole in the fence…’

‘Shit!’ I exclaim as I see larger black and brown figures running behind the rhesus monkeys, ‘time to go.’

‘Hold on tight,’ Clarence reaches up to push Milly’s hands firmer onto his head as we set off, jogging at a good pace as we follow the meandering road.

Screams, roars and horrific snarls sound out in the distance behind us. Three species of animals kept well apart are now thrown into the pot. At least now with three enclosures breached there are plenty of trees and land for the primates to use in their escape of the lions.

‘Giddy up horsey,’ Milly screams with pleasure at the bouncy ride on Clarence’s wide shoulders.

‘There,’ Dave points ahead to a bit set of gates set into the chain link fence, ‘give me your axe.’ I offer mine up which he takes and sprints ahead, outstripping us with graceful ease. Reaching the obstacle he swings and levers away, snapping something then dragging the gates open way before we get to them.

Bursting through we keep the speed up as Dave slams the gates closed behind us, shouting that the lock is ruined before running up to join us again.

We are certainly be a lot fitter than we were two weeks ago but my god, the heat is sapping my strength quicker than anything I have ever known before. Each day just gets hotter, and it seems so much worse out here in the wide, open land, with heat shimmers hovering over the surface of the road.

Gradually we slow down to a fast walk, the conversation drying up as we focus on breathing. Dehydration becoming a very real issue as the sweat pours down our faces to drench our clothes.

Thankfully we start to see buildings in the distance, large roofed structures that indicate we’re heading towards the centre of the park.

Heads down but eyes up, we push on, all too aware that the last gate we came through is closed but not locked and could easily swing open.

‘Over there,’ Blowers gasps, and points to a herd of something grazing further down the rolling pastures. Those clever monkeys will soon realise they can open that gate, then the lions have four enclosures to roam and now a herd of something, maybe bison or some other big animals, to hunt.

‘Zebras,’ Blowers points out another herd of the distinctive black and white creatures moving amongst a strand of trees. Closer towards the main centre, we see other herds of animals all in the same vast area. These are all grazing animals, and with so much space they must have all been put together. Those lions will be feasting at some point.

The safari park is so bloody big it seems to take ages to finally reach the buildings, and the last gate is quickly pulled shut as the others start sagging down to rest.

‘Not yet,’ I gasp at them, ‘café up there.’ That gets them back on their feet quick enough.

A place like this will have somewhere to eat and drink so we head on, going past the small creature buildings and into the main centre. The buildings are all locked and secure, but finding the advertisement adorned café is easy enough. Then, with Clarence’s feet and our axes, getting the doors open takes just seconds.

Inside the entrance we finally rest, bent over or dropping down to get our breathing under control.

‘Wait here,’ Lani walks off quickly followed by Dave. Disappearing out of sight we wait for them to come back, knowing exactly what they’ve gone for.

‘They’re not chilled,’ Lani calls out, coming back with an armful of bottles of water. Dave is  right behind her with more. Caps get unscrewed and water glugged down, poured over faces and heads with pleasurable sighs and groans.

Milly drinks quickly, holding the bottle to her mouth with both hands, while staring round at the inside of the building.

It’s a wooden structure made from stained, dark timber to give it an old time sort of theme with wooden tables and chairs dotted everywhere. Every wall has posters and pictures of the animals held within the park as well as posters advertising the feeding times and extra gold packages you can pay for. They also have expert talks given by guest television presenters.

Cleverly, they’ve put the gift shop within the main café building and stocked the outer edge, the one closest to the café, with all the brightest and most colourful objects to attract the attention of children. It certainly works judging by the stares of Milly.

‘Gift shop,’ Cookey mentions. Obviously works on him too.

‘They got toilets?’ Clarence asks.

‘Do you need a poo?’ Milly asks seriously with an actual air of genuine concern.

‘No, you need a wash if I’m going to be carrying you,’ he replies kindly.

‘I’ll do it, you think they got clothes in there?’ She nods at the gift shop.

‘Probably,’ I reply, ‘at least tee-shirts and things. Get her a sunhat too if they’ve got them, at least a baseball cap…’

‘Yes okay Mr Howie,’ she groans, ‘anything else?’

‘I’ll come with you,’ I get to my feet and follow Lani and Milly towards the shop.

‘Cookey, see if you can find some food.’

‘Why me?’ He asks with a groan.

‘You were the last one to swear,’ I turn round to grin at him.

‘Okay,’ the amiable lad smiles and gets up.

Fortunately, the gift shop is not sectioned off from the café and we just stroll through into the aisles packed with every type of object known to mankind and all of them emblazoned, stencilled or stitched with the park logo on them. Advertising works I guess, and no doubt they wouldn’t stock it if it didn’t all sell.

‘There,’ I point to a clothing section at the far end.

‘Can I get a toy please Lani?’ Milly asks.

‘You can have whatever you want,’ Lani smiles down, ‘but after we get you washed and changed, okay?’

Milly clearly contemplates this for a second, ‘anything?’ She asks in the negotiating phase of the discussions.

‘Anything,’ Lani repeats.

‘Okay,’ Milly accepts the terms and conditions as we reach the clothing stands. Any concern of not having clothes is quickly negated. They’ve got every possible type of clothing here.

‘Shorts or trousers?’ I ask Lani holding a pair of each up. They’re khaki safari colour with the logo stitched in, but are good quality material.

‘Trousers for now,’ Lani replies, ‘keep her legs covered in this sun but take the shorts anyway. Actually, grab a bag and we can get a few bits…actually,’ she adds again, ‘get a few bags so we can fill up.’

‘That,’ I announce with a pointed look, ‘is a very good idea, see…it’s not just your body that I fancy.’

‘Oh really?’ Lani laughs, ‘my mind too yeah?’

‘Oh yes,’ I reply in what I hope is a serious tone.

‘Just not summer dresses though,’ she arches on eyebrow before turning away.

They’ve got rucksacks a plenty here and, as with the clothes, they are good quality with padded straps with waist and chest fasteners. The park logo on everything is a bit annoying but what can you do?

‘There’s loads of grub in the kitchens,’ Cookey announces, walking into the gift shop with the others strolling behind him.

‘Get some stuff if you need it,’ I call out, ‘there are bags here we can use, get clean tops or whatever you need.’

‘Leave space for water,’ Dave instructs.

‘Are you getting changed too Lani?’ Milly asks from behind an aisle.

‘I am,’ Lani replies, ‘help me find something.’

‘Okay,’ Milly replies, ‘what about this?’

‘Hmmm, I think it’s a bit hot for a tiger costume.’

‘Go on Lani, put it on!’ Cookey calls out.

‘Ah perfect,’ Blowers shouts, ‘big rack of sunglasses here.’

‘Where?’ Cookey springs up looking round.

‘Don’t get mirrored glasses,’ Dave orders, ‘they can reflect sunlight.’

‘Roger that,’ Cookey replies, running about looking for Blowers.

‘Here,’ I walk back into the middle area carrying a load of black tee-shirts, ‘they’ve got the logo on them but…’

‘Doesn't matter,’ Clarence strides over, ‘clean clothes…they got my size?’

‘Probably not,’ I reply, ‘have a look.’

‘We’re ready,’ Lani appears with Milly who is loaded down with armfuls of clothes. ‘Here,’ she grins and throws something at me. Ducking out the way I pick the object up and laugh.

‘Really?’

‘Yes,’ Lani grins.

‘What is it?’ Cookey calls out.

‘A safari park toothbrush,’ I reply, ‘in zebra colours.’

Milly and Lani head off to the toilets, Milly’s voice chattering the entire way as the rest of us mooch through the heap of clothes I dumped to find the right sizes.

With toothbrush in hand I head off to the toilets with Dave, agreeing with the rest that we’ll go first and then start on the food, which gives Cookey a reprieve.

‘Clean toilets Dave!’ I remark as we walk into the sparkling clean gents, ‘they even smell nice.’

‘They do Mr Howie,’ he heads straight over to the sinks and starts stripping off while running the water. I go a few sinks up and start the same, peeling off the sodden, filthy top and catching a whiff of my armpits.

‘I wonder if Nick’s at the fort yet?’

‘I hope so,’ Dave replies.

‘You worried?’

‘About Nick?’

‘Yes, Dave.’

‘Not really, he’s very capable and very intelligent. Good fighter too.’

‘I guess but I still don’t like it. That Milly is pretty fearless,’ I say conversationally which isn’t the best thing to do with Dave, seeing as he struggles with mundane chitchat. Glancing down the row of sinks, I watch him repeatedly press the plastic lever to fill his hands with liquid soap before smashing the lot into his face and lathering it up in a vigorous, almost epileptic manner. He then washes his hair, his neck and down to his shoulders and armpits until the soap runs out. He reloads with soap and carries on, scrubbing himself so methodically that he’s done within a couple of minutes, rinsing the soap off to stand back and start using paper towels to pat dry his body.

‘She is,’ he finally adds. Having recorded the last comment made by me, but being unable to answer for fear of getting a mouthful of soap, he simply continued what he was doing until he could talk. The man is mesmerising to watch. Even something normally boring like washing is done so clinically it’s fascinating.

‘You think she’s got something wrong with her?’ I turn back to my own messier and less clinical washing, which involves getting lots of water everywhere, blinding myself with soap and then trying to talk at the same time.

‘Wrong?’ He asks while I rinse the soap from my burning eye.

‘Yeah like autism or something, you know, she hasn’t mentioned her family or her house or anything. Those questions she asks too, and the way she remembers our names so quickly.’

‘There is a wide spectrum with autism Mr Howie,’ he says, ‘she doesn't appears to lack social skills but…’ He pauses for a second which is so unusual it makes me stop washing to stare at him, ‘I think perhaps her awareness of danger or threat is different to a normal person.’

‘Makes sense,’ I nod in agreement before returning turning back to the mirror. As I unwrap the new toothbrush, I contemplate using the liquid soap as a toothpaste. It would taste disgusting but it would certainly clean my mouth. Would it be harmful? I suppose if I didn’t actually swallow it…would they put dangerous liquid soap in public restrooms?

‘You okay Mr Howie,’ he asks directly, staring at me hovering my brush under the soap dispenser.

‘Uh?’ Catching me unawares I shake my head and start brushing without the soap but doing it without paste feels so wrong. In the end I compromise and add the tiniest dollop of soap before quickly shoving the bristles in my mouth and going for it before I change my mind.

It tastes fucking awful, really nasty but I keep going. Attacking the bottom row, then the top, all whilst trying to hold my tongue away from my teeth and reminding myself not to swallow. It’s very complicated and rather too much for my stupid head to process, and results in a messy situation with soapy saliva dripping from my mouth whilst I try not to gag.

As I finish I suddenly realise I am groaning from distaste. I get my mouth under the tap to rinse and realise Dave is staring at me with a very strange expression.

‘What?’ I ask with a shrug.

‘Nothing,’ he shrugs back. Bloody hell, it must be bad when even Dave looks at you like you’re doing something weird. ‘Your eye is all red,’ he comments.

‘Got soap in it.’

The psychological effect of washing and putting a clean tee-shirt on is amazing. All of us feel a little pepped up from scrubbing the stale sweat away. Out of the harsh sun, and drinking cans of sugary drink, we start on the tinned food from the kitchens, carrying them all out onto a big table in the café.

‘Fort or Saxon first?’ Clarence asks, happily shovelling a spoonful of cold beans into his mouth.

‘Fort. We need Nick or a mechanic,’ I reply, ‘none of us can fix it, and I hate being separated from him too.’

‘Mmm, definitely,’ Blowers nods in agreement with a mouthful of something, ‘we should get Nick first.’

‘Are you ready gentlemen?’ Turning round, we see Lani stood at the entrance to the toilets. Judging by the time she has taken, there must have been one hell of a cleaning session going on in there.

She leads Milly out by the hand. The little girl grinning from ear to ear, freshly scrubbed with wet hair tied back she looks completely different.

‘Look at you!’ Cookey calls out.

‘Wow!’ I stand up and clap, ‘you look so much better.’

‘She does,’ Clarence adds, ‘all clean and fresh.’

‘Do the clothes fit alright?’ Blowers asks.

‘Perfect,’ Lani replies. Milly bursts away from her, prompting us all to jump up in panic at the thought of her running off again. Giggling she heads straight to Clarence, jumping up at the last second with a high-pitched laugh.

‘Come here you,’ Clarence pulls her up to sit on his lap, ‘now you smell much better.’

‘I got new clothes,’ Milly grins round at us all, ‘and Lani has new clothes and I have brown trousers and Lani has brown trousers and I have a black top and Lani has a black top…’

‘Breathe Milly,’ Cookey laughs as the girl launches into a long excited explanation.

‘We’ve all got black tops on,’ she shouts jumping up and down in absolute glee. ‘Clarence has a black one and Mr Howie has a black one and Dave has a black one…’ she goes round naming everyone as I watch her closely. I still can’t help but notice the way she feels the need to point everything out individually.

‘You alright?’ I ask Lani when Milly finishes off.

‘Fine, brush your teeth did you?’

‘I did.’

‘Mr Howie used soap on the toothbrush,’ Dave imparts helpfully, to a load of faces screwing up in disgust.

‘Wasn’t that bad,’ I shrug, ‘Milly, are you hungry?’

‘I’m on it,’ Clarence says, pulling tins over so Milly can start eating.

‘Where’s Meredith?’ Lani asks.

‘Under the table scoffing,’ Blowers answers tucking back into his food.

‘Have you given her beans again?’ She asks, ‘you know what beans do to her.’

‘Not much choice really, she’s got tuna mixed in with it,’ Blowers replies.

‘Have you been here before Milly?’ I ask the little girl munching away on a bowl of tuna, beans and sweet corn all mixed together. She shakes her head seriously while busily loading the spoon up.

‘Never?’ I ask in surprise, being so close to the safari park I would have thought all the local kids would have visited.

‘Do you have any brothers or sisters?’ I ask gently, remembering the other bedroom in her house with the posters of teen bands. Milly shakes her head again as she focusses on chewing.

‘Oh,’ I nod, keeping the tone light I start opening another tin, ‘there was another bedroom at your house with posters, who’s bedroom was that?’

‘Carly,’ she replies. I watch her closely. She doesn't appear upset or worried. In fact she seems the same, quite content to eat away.

‘Who is Carly? Is she a relative?’

She shakes her head again and looks round, grinning at Cookey who laughs at the single bean that drops from her mouth.

Giving Lani a confused look I shrug. The girl is a mystery. Maybe we had the wrong house and her name isn’t even Milly. ‘Is Milly your name?’ I ask quickly.

‘Yes Mr Howie,’ she laughs as though it’s the stupidest question ever.

‘So who is Carly?’

‘My mummy and daddy’s daughter,’ she says as if the answer is obvious.

‘I’m lost,’ Cookey mutters.

‘But…’I scratch my head, trying to work out if I’ve missed something.

‘Milly, if Carly is your mummy and daddy’s daughter then shouldn’t she be your sister?’ Lani asks.

‘Mummy and Daddy want us to be sisters,’ Milly says, still focussing on loading up her spoon. We wait for the additional comment to come, but it doesn't. She just carries on eating.

‘So, why aren’t you sisters then?’ Lani carries on.

‘Cos Carly is mean, she calls me rude names,’ Milly replies, ‘and I don’t want to be her sister. Mummy and Daddy said they took me so we have to be sisters, but I don’t like her.’

‘Took you?’ Lani leans forward staring with interest, ‘Milly, are you adopted?’

‘Yes!’ She laughs in that crazy, quick way while munching her little jaw up and down.

‘Oh,’ Cookey nods slowly, ‘got it.’

‘Do you miss them?’ Lani asks in a soft voice. We all wait for the answer, staring over at the girl perched on Clarence’s lap.

‘Nope,’ Milly sings. ‘I like beans,’ she announces, ‘Clarence, do you like beans?’

Laughing, the big man says he does like beans, but I notice his arm wraps round her that little bit tighter and Lani gives her a big warm smile. We all sense something not quite right, but none of us know what to say about it. Does it matter now? That’s the question. Her family are gone and probably never to be seen again. What happened before all this is over. It could be that she is like Dave and unable to build connections to people in the way others can. But then watching her now, interacting with all of us, it doesn't seem that way. For instance, she can maintain eye contact and read other people’s facial expressions, laughing when they laugh or responding to Cookey when he pulls a funny face. And the way she ran straight to Clarence too. Maybe she was just remembering that he carried her for a while, but she could have just got her own chair. Meredith certainly seems to like her, moving out from the under the table to sit next to Clarence and keeping both of her sharp eyes fixed on the girl.

‘We’re going to the place we live,’ Lani says after a few minutes of general talking, ‘do you want to come with us?’ The question is asked gently and easy, like a test to see how she responds.

‘Is Clarence going?’ She twists to look up.

‘I am,’ he nods.

‘Is Dave going?’ She asks each of us in turn, that same method of wanting everyone to answer individually.

‘So?’ Lani asks when she gets round everyone, ‘do you want to come with us?’

‘I do,’ Milly says. ‘Will I have a bedroom?’

‘Er,’ Lani looks to me, unsure of how to respond, ‘I don’t know,’ she says slowly.

‘Oh, I should imagine so,’ I nod knowingly.

‘Will Meredith have puppies?’ She asks quickly, ‘my mummy’s friend had a dog and she had puppies.’

‘Er, no…er…I don’t think so,’ I reply and that’s it, conversation over as she takes up staring round the room instead.

‘We’d better go,’ I announce, ‘everyone eaten and got water?’ Murmurs of affirmation and nods all round.

‘Me and Blowers got these for you Milly,’ Cookey pulls a pair of sunglasses from a pocket to hand over, pink plastic frames with dark lenses and her mouth drops open like it’s the best present she has ever had. Hugging the grinning lads in turn, she slips them on and grins, getting smiles and comments in response.

‘I like glasses,’ she announces, ‘Cookey….’

And so she starts again as we head out into the heat once more. One little girl surrounded by the hardest zombie killers possibly left in the country, and one truly psychotic, fearless dog that trots by her side. Chatting away, she lifts our mood greatly, even Dave smiles at her which just shows the effect she’s already having on us.

We just need Nick and the Saxon back now and everything will be fine.

Thirty Four

‘Hey sleepy, how are you?’ Lilly smiles, wanting Todd to wake up feeling re-assured that she is here and they are safe. ‘You’ve been asleep for ages,’ she adds. Todd stretches and looks across at Nick driving the van. Even with the windows wide open the heat is incredible and sweat drips down his face, giving him that uncomfortable sticky feeling. Shifting to look out the front window, he stares at the houses rolling by.

‘Need the toilet,’ Todd says quietly, the shock from everything rendering him near silent. No Samantha or his father, just Lilly and this man.

‘I’ll pull over,’ Nick says with a quick smile down at Todd. ‘You thirsty mate?’ He asks in a friendly tone. Todd nods but doesn't answer, his eyes wide and scared and despite the intense warmth he looks pale, drawn and sickly.

‘Bushes or a wall?’ Nick asks lightly.

‘Pardon?’ Todd asks.

‘Would you like to have a wee behind a wall or behind a bush?’ Nick smiles. Looking up at Lilly for re-assurance and seeing her smiling along he thinks for a moment. ‘Bush please,’ he says so politely they both just smile sadly.

‘Your wish is my command,’ Nick replies, ‘right, we need a big bush, can you see one anywhere?’ Seeing the fear on the boy’s face, Nick tries to be jovial in a quiet muted sort of way. The horror the child has seen has clearly shocked him to the core.

‘There’s one, what do you think Todd?’ Lilly points ahead to a large house set back from the road with thick bushes lining the edge of the front grounds.

‘Yes please.’ Todd stares around at the passing scenery. Everything looks so calm and nice, quiet and shining in the sunlight.

With the van stopped, Lilly drops down to the pavement stretching her arms wide with a big yawn. ‘I’m so sleepy,’ she shakes her head quickly.

‘It’s the heat,’ Nick replies. Switching the engine off, he jumps down to quickly check the view up and down the street, pausing for a second before nodding that he is satisfied. Pulling his packet out, he taps a cigarette free and lights it in one smooth well practised movement.

‘Better?’ Lilly smiles, seeing the look of relief on his face.

‘Much,’ Nick nods with a guilty grin.

‘Come on then,’ Lilly says holding a hand out for Todd she helps him down and follows him towards the large grounds of the big house.

‘I need a poo poo,’ Todd whispers. He didn’t want to say it in front of Nick, the embarrassment  too much.

‘Okay,’ Lilly ruffles his hair, ‘you go and I’ll find some toilet roll, make sure you keep your shorts out the way,’ she says softly, ‘don’t get poo in them okay?’

‘Okay Lilly.’

‘Don’t go far though.’

‘You won’t watch will you?’ He asks with a frown.

‘No silly,’ Lilly replies, ‘of course I won’t.’

‘But what about the toilet paper? You’ll see me when you bring it?’ Todd looks deeply worried at the prospect of being seen having a poo.

‘Okay, wait here and I’ll get some now,’ she rushes off, first checking the cab before running to the back. Opening the doors, she clambers inside for a few seconds then re-appears holding a roll of toilet paper up with a big grin. ‘There, see? Now make sure you wipe properly okay?’

‘Okay.’ Nodding, he takes the roll and darts off through the open gates of the driveway. He takes a hard right and crouches behind a row of dense bushes cut into precise squares, with flat sides and tops with tiny, new shoots now threaten to ruin the shape so lovingly created.

‘He alright?’ Nick asks as Lilly wanders back.

‘Needs a poo,’ she smiles, ‘didn’t want either of us to watch him.’

‘Fair enough,’ Nick shrugs, ‘I wouldn’t want anyone watching me take a shit either…shit…I mean a poo,’ he adds with a roll of his eyes. Lilly giggles at hearing the word poo from a grown man, especially one that blushes so easily.

‘We can’t be that far away now,’ Nick suggests in an awful attempt to move the conversation along.

‘No, I guess not,’ Lilly nods, ‘you thirsty? They’ve got loads of stuff in the back.’

‘Definitely.’ Strolling to the rear, he stands at the back doors while she climbs in to mooch through the bags of foods and provisions taken by the two men.

‘Coke? Lilt, Dr Pepper…Lucozade…’

‘Lucozade please,’ Nick cuts in, ‘we drink loads of that stuff in the Saxon. It’s good for electrolytes and er…stuff,’ he shrugs, his voice tailing off self-consciously.

‘Stuff?’ Lilly prompts him, ‘what stuff?’

‘You know, like all the salts and things you lose in this heat from sweating. It’s the glucose in those that give you the quick energy hit. Dave even drinks it so it must be good.’

‘You keep mentioning Dave like he’s something special,’ Lilly muses. Jumping down with another two bottles, she opens one to take a long drink.

‘Oh he fucking is,’ Nick nods, ‘shit! Why can’t I stop fucking swearing…I must have shitting Tourette’s or something…’

‘Shitting Tourette’s?’ Lilly laughs.

‘Yeah shitting, arsing, bloody…’ gritting his teeth with a smile threatening to spread across his face. Relenting he grins, laughing at himself.

‘Don’t worry,’ Lilly takes another swig, ‘it’s sweet that you keep trying to stop.’

Sweet? Did she just say sweet? Nick turns away quickly to take another drink, she definitely said sweet. She really did.

‘What?’ Lilly asks at seeing his reaction.

‘Eh? What?’ Nick asks too nonchalantly.

‘You blush so easily,’ she teases with a grin. An image of her father flashes across her mind, of Sam with that brute between her legs, of Norman grabbing at her last night and Billy being pulled away. The smile fades as quickly as it came, guilt pervades at being here laughing with an attractive boy so soon after.

‘Hey,’ Nick is there, right in front of her and looking at her with a sad look, ‘that happens.’

‘What?’ She asks confused.

‘The memories like that,’ he says softly, ‘you felt guilty for laughing when er…when all that bad shit just happened…’

‘Yes,’ she looks down with another guilty start.

‘We all get it,’ Nick continues, ‘but it’s okay to laugh and smile Lilly. It doesn't mean you don’t regret anything and it doesn't make it fucking hurt any less but…’ he shrugs, ‘but it helps you get through the day I guess.’

‘Have you lost…?’ Lilly asks quietly, unable to finish the sentence.

‘Loads,’ Nick replies. Seeing the girl look so full of anxiety he puts one hand on her shoulder. Immediately, she moves to place her own hand over his. Taking comfort from the contact, she closes her eyes for a second and almost nestles into his arm. ‘But we’re here,’ Nick says, ‘it’s fuck awful and shit but…’ Seeing the tears start to fall down her face he steps in, wrapping his arms round her shoulders.

‘I’m sorry,’ she bites the tears away, ‘I keep doing this.’

‘It’s only twice,’ Nick laughs softly, ‘you’re tired and exhausted, it’s fucking hot and fucking hell Lilly, after what you just had happen…shit you cry as much as you want.’

‘Maybe I should start swearing like you,’ she chuckles.

‘Nah, it wouldn’t suit that posh voice, you’d sound like someone from a porno,.’ He freezes, realising what he just said, as though alluding to the fact that he may have actually seen pornography.

‘Porno?’ Lilly chuckles again, ‘posh porno eh? Is that your thing?’

‘What? Me? No, fuck no…shit…I never watched any it was er…something Cookey said.’

‘Would you like a shovel for that hole Nicholas,’ she looks up through tear misted eyes and smiles sadly.

‘Yeah,’ he nods, ‘a big one please. You okay?’

‘Fine. Thank you,’ she says with real meaning, ‘I don’t know we would have done without you.’

‘You’d survive,’ he shrugs, becoming painfully aware that the re-assuring hug he offered is fast evolving into an embrace.

The scream, when it comes, rips through the air making both of them flinch. High-pitched with anguish and pain and so unexpected they freeze for the most fleeting of seconds. Hearts boom with fright and adrenalin as Nick pulls away, his longer legs working as he pumps his arms racing towards the garden ahead.

‘TODD…’ Lilly screams out sprinting just behind Nick, ‘TODD?’

The scream keeps going, one, long, pitiful sound that chills her to the core. Though the gate, Nick turns quickly behind the thick hedgerow, pushing round a cluster of low ferns. He sees Todd on his front, his shorts round his ankles and a crawler biting deep into his calf. Beating his arms against the ground, Todd wails in pain and terror. Nick surges in, kicking it off but he’s too late.

Snapping back, the undead rolls away from the blow. It has greying skin drawn tight over its cheekbones, eyes sunk and deep with only a few wisps of matted hair left on his filthy scalp. The thing bares its teeth, gnashing to get at Nick.

No axe and no pistol, so he uses his feet, stamping down and kicking to get the zombie further away from Todd. Again and again with increasing force, he stamps the sole of his boot, snapping bones, the nose and cheeks to bits.

‘Todd!’ Lilly drops down clutching the boy in her arms as he cries in agony, ‘oh Todd…oh my god!’

The neck snaps with the final hard kick, the head lolling to one side as Nick looks round at the area, spotting the drag marks across the lawn and flowerbeds made by the zombie slowly pulling itself along. Furious inside that he didn’t check the garden, that the one spot they choose has an undead in it.

‘Todd,’ Lilly sobs. Holding him tight, she fights the rising panic and uses one hand to grab at the ragged wound in an attempt to stem the bleeding.

‘Let go.’ Nick speaks low and urgent, yanking her hand free and checking the wound; a deep bite down to the bone. Two minutes at the most before he turns.

‘Do something,’ Lilly pleads, ‘Nick…do something please.’

Moving round to the boys head he smiles down, soothing the hair plastered to his forehead. ‘You’re going to be okay,’ Nick speaks clear and confident, stroking the boys head he watches as the screams die out leaving a terrified little boy gasping with pain.

Remembering what Lani said he smiles down, ‘everything is fine Todd, it’s just a tiny bite…that’s all, just a tiny cut that we clean up,’ Todd looks up, locking his frightened eyes on Nick, he stares pitifully, hanging on the comfort offered. ‘Does it hurt?’ Nick asks.

Shaking his head, ‘no,’ Todd whimpers.

‘See,’ Nick smiles, ‘it’s getting better already. We’ll just rest here for a minute then we can go get something to drink. You’re going to be alright Todd. You feeling sleepy?’

Nodding slowly, Todd blinks with heavy eyelids. The infection courses through his system and already working to take the small body over.

‘My tummy hurts,’ Todd wriggles as the pain grips his insides.

‘That’s from all those fizzy drinks,’ Nick soothes the boys head, watching as Lilly gently strokes his cheek. ‘All those fizzy drinks and you needed a poo, you have a nice sleep,’ Nick forces himself to keep smiling, ‘have a nice sleep Todd and we’ll carry you into the van and then we can find Billy.’ The boy writhes for a second then gradually goes still. Eyelids fluttering as unconsciousness threatens to pull him under any second.

‘Ssshhh,’ Nick says softly, ‘you sleep Todd, have a nice sleep and you’ll feel better.’

‘I want my mummy,’ Todd snaps his eyes open, fighting against the urge pulling him under.

‘I know,’ Nick says. The lad is finished, dying in his arms. ‘Todd,’ he says softly, ‘your mummy is at the place we’re going to, she is waiting for you.’

Todd looks up with a fresh glimmer of hope in his eyes.

‘That’s right,’ Nick swallows to stop the tears, ‘she told me not to tell you because she wanted to surprise you but she is there and…and I’m going to take you to see her…so you have a nice sleep Todd, sleep and have nice dreams and when you wake up you’ll be with your mummy.’

The boy smiles, a feeble twitch of the lips as the eyes start to defocus.

‘And your mummy told me to tell you something,’ Nick continues, ‘she said to tell you she loves you very much and she misses you. She has a great big cuddle waiting for you and she is so proud of you Todd, really proud, and she loves you with all of her heart.’

Sobs break from Lilly as she clamps her mouth shut, forcing herself to smile at Todd.

‘That’s right Todd, Mummy is waiting and she can’t wait to see you. You sleep Todd, you’ve been so brave, such a brave boy,’ stroking his cheeks they watch his eyes close for the last time. The small chest ceases movement as the infection takes the body.

‘Todd?’ Lilly whispers.

‘It’s done,’ Nick mutters softly, ‘we have to move away.’

‘Todd?’ Lilly drops closer to his face, Nick ready to react for the turn.

‘Lilly, we have to move away,’ he urges. Watching closely, he gives her a few seconds to drop her mouth and kiss his forehead, wet tears falling from her eyes to soak his pale, lifeless cheeks.

‘Now Lilly,’ Nicks says firmer, ‘we have to move now.’

‘I can’t,’ Lilly sobs. Nick doesn't hesitate but grabs the girl by her shoulders, pulling her roughly away. ‘Get off,’ she screams out, pushing against him.

‘No,’ Nick growls. Keeping grip he pulls the girl away from the body, ‘Lilly we have to move now.’

‘Get your hands off me,’ Lilly shouts lashing out with her hands while sobbing hysterically.

‘Lilly please…’ Nick takes another blow to the head, wincing as it strikes the bruised bit she caused earlier.

‘TODD….’ Lilly screams. Fighting to get free she thrashes against Nick, pushing and pulling to get his hands off her arms.

She fights so hard that Nick has no choice. Sweeping her legs out as gently as possible, he lowers her to the ground, wrapping his arms round her chest to stop her breaking free knowing she’ll rush back to the boy.

‘Look,’ Nick shouts as the spasms start pulsing through Todd’s body. ‘LOOK,’ he forces her head to face the re-animating corpse.

Lilly freezes, mesmerised by the intense violent fitting. She manoeuvres into a seated position with Nick directly behind her, his arms wrapped tight round her chest and shoulders.

‘Watch Lilly,’ he speaks into her ear, ‘this is what happens. It isn’t Todd that comes back…understand? That isn’t Todd now…it’s one of them…when it wakes up it will attack us and try to bite…just one bite that all it takes. Now we have to get up.’ Grunting with effort, he gets his legs under and pushes up, lifting the girl with him until they’re both standing.

Without realising, she grasps in arms in comfort, no longer trying to break free but pulling his arms tighter round her frame. The tears cease as she watches the shuddering corpse become lifeless again.

Nick pulls his arms free to move round in front of her, using his body as a shield.

‘Go back to the van,’ he orders.

‘No,’ she whispers close behind him.

‘Go back,’ he hisses, ‘please Lilly, just go now.’

‘No, I’m staying.’

‘Lilly, I’m going to kill it, do you understand? I’m going to fucking kill it…go back to the fucking van.’

‘No,’ she growls with defiance.

Todd sits up, side on to Nick and Lilly. His red, bloodshot eyes snap open. Slowly the head turns away then slowly back towards them. Drool hangs from its mouth and low growls sound from the throat as it lurches forward, gaining its feet.

Lilly squeezes the trigger on the pistol. She doesn't remember the motion of taking it out but there it is, up and aiming. The reflex of her finger squeezing jolts the gun, the round striking Todd centre chest and the power of the bullet slamming his light body back several feet.

The sudden gunshot makes Nick’s ears ring, so close and completely unexpected. Instantly, he sees the round strike the chest and knows the body will just get back up.

‘The head,’ he whispers, ‘the chest doesn't do anything.’

‘Okay,’ her voice quavering she takes aim with shaking hands, using both of them in an attempt to hold the gun level.

‘Let me,’ Nick says.

‘No,’ shaking her head firmly, she takes a deep breath as Todd sits back up, the wound in his chest bleeding heavily but nothing like it should be.

‘They don’t bleed like we do,’ Nick whispers, ‘they heal faster too. They don’t eat or drink…they move fast and they will do anything to kill us… they don’t feel pain, nothing…’

‘I understand,’ Lilly replies her voice now dull and flat. Hands now steadier she pulls the trigger, watching with shock as the round penetrates the forehead and removes the back of his skull. Pink mist flares for a second as the bushes beyond become drenched in gore and brain matter.

The body drops, dead again and for final this time. She lowers the gun slowly as Nick watches her closely. Neither of them speak for a minute. Lilly gently pushes the gun back into the holster and stares down at the ground.

‘Lilly?’ Nick asks gently, ‘you okay?’

She nods before looking up at him. ‘Yes,’ swallowing she thinks for a second. The confusion and hysteria has gone now, a weird calmness descends, a sensation of being numb. Like none of this was real. Snapping her head quickly she takes another breath. She can see the pain in his eyes, the worry and genuine care. He reacted so quickly and knew exactly what to do. Beating that thing off before making her let go of Todd’s leg.

Those things he said too, the kind words and the soft tone. How did he know to do that? He knew Todd was dying but he had the presence to stay calm and ease the boy slowly away. One minute they were laughing and crying then this, Todd dead and…

‘Don’t overthink it,’ Nick urges, ‘this is our fucking life now.’

She nods back staring at him intently.

‘If I could take any of this away from you I would,’ Nick continues, ‘you don’t deserve it…really Lilly, I would do anything so you didn’t have see this or…’ he shrugs searching for the right words, ‘but if you want to find your brother and protect him, this is what you have to do. It’s fucked up and shitty as fuck but…’

‘I understand,’ she nods again, lifting her chin higher.

‘Are they always like that?’ She asks.

‘No,’ Nick shakes his head, drawing another cigarette out, ‘some can speak and look pretty normal but so far,’ he takes a drag and blows the smoke away, ‘they’ve all got red eyes…that’s what to look out for.’

‘Okay,’ she nods, ‘what else?’

‘Else?’ He asks with a puzzled frown.

‘What else do I need to know? Like you said,’ she stares at him, ‘if I’m going to protect Billy…’

‘Go for the brain,’ Nick says quickly, ‘gunshot or stab, an axe or even something heavy but go for the head. Or you cut them so bad they don’t stop bleeding but that’s like a fucking artery…you know?’

‘An artery, right.’

‘Yeah, in the neck here,’ Nick touches the sides of his own neck, ‘cut this open and they bleed out but there’s arteries in the groin and other places too.’

‘I know,’ Lilly nods. ‘Right, arteries or head.’

‘And strike and move,’ Nick almost smiles at the words of Dave and Mr Howie being repeated over and over, ‘we’d better go. You sure you’re okay?’

‘Not really,’ she sags for a second, ‘but I haven’t got any choice…’

‘Nope,’ Nick shakes his head, ‘none of us have, fucking shit ain't it?’ He offers a hard grin with a shrug.

‘It is,’ Lilly replies slowly, ‘it is very fucking shit.’

Thirty Five

‘I tell you, we share this place yes?’ Lenski glares at the man, ‘we have the space and…’

‘SHUT UP,’ the man yells, his face glistening with sweat as the frustration gives way to a feeling of losing control.

‘I’m telling you Shaun, this is fucked up…completely fucked up…we gotta do somethin man.’

‘Just shut up! All of you shut the fuck up, and let me think,’ Shaun paces the room trying to think. This was meant to be so easy. Hell, the first bit was easy. The lack of guards and the intense confusion of the place meant taking it was easier than a walk in the park. Not now though, everything was starting to go sour.

‘Shaun man…’

‘Ginge, if you say another word I swear I’ll cut your fucking throat,’ Shaun hisses, his eyes bulging as much as the veins in his neck.

‘Easy man,’ Ginge puts one hand up to placate him, stepping back he uses the hand to sweep the locks of red hair from his eyes. ‘Shaun man, I’m just like, you know,’ Ginge shrugs, ‘saying is all.’

‘Yes but the fucking problem is, is that you keep saying it,’ Shaun screams, ‘saying and saying and fucking saying…’

‘Okay man,’ Ginge backs off, ‘it’s all you bro.’

‘Stop speaking like a fucking surfer,’ Shaun glares with a look of pure violence. He is angry, backed into a corner and everything is going wrong but here is something he can yell at. The long haired, ginger prick and the way he speaks. Yeah, that’s something that can be shouted about.

‘Man,’ Ginge shakes his head sulkily, ‘you bring me down man, this is how I speak bro…’

Lenski watches the men interact, sensing a hint of desperation which can be exploited, but only by treading very carefully.

‘Shaun may I speak yes?’ She asks softly, changing her manner instantly and earning a quick glance from Sierra.

‘No!’ Shaun snaps.

‘I see you are worried yes,’ Lenski pushes on speaking rapidly, ‘you are not the bad man, I see this,’ she pauses for a second, ‘you have the families too yes? You need the food for them and we need the food and the safe place too…’

‘I said shut it.’

‘Please,’ Lenski pleads, ‘please hear me yes? You have lost good men and no more should die here…my people they just try to protect us…let me speak with them and…’ Her voice snaps off as the black, circular ends of a double barrelled shotgun appear inches in front of her eyes.

‘One more word,’ Shaun mutters holding the gun there, ‘one more word…’

‘Okay,’ Sierra shouts, ‘we’re sorry okay…we didn’t mean nuffin’’

‘Ginge, get rid of these two, I can’t fucking think with them going on.’

‘Alright man, yeah that’s cool you know. Come on ladies, we gotta do what the man says.’

Leading the two women out, Ginge casts a final look at Shaun, seeing the worry etched onto his features and the way his finger keeps tapping at the trigger of his sawn off shotgun.

Alone, he starts to pace, frantic with worry. He’d heard the fort was here, and like everyone else, he knew it was the safe place to head for. The only difference was that Shaun had designs to be in charge, he wanted to lead.

Shaun already had a large group of survivors with him and had managed to gather various shotguns, rifles, crossbows and bladed weapons from farms during the journey south. They all looked to him, he was their leader. The prospect of handing his power over to someone else didn’t appeal to him.

The initial recce of the fort showed him that the place was in chaos, with new groups arriving all the time. No sense of order or discipline anywhere. Just some little kids running about with guns. This wasn’t what he was expecting. Like everyone else, the survivor’s grapevine had been buzzing with how the fort was a government controlled place of safety with law, order, hospitals, schools, food and police. All of it run by Mr Howie and his team of soldiers.

The fort Shaun saw wasn’t anything like that. From the edge of flatlands, he used his high powered binoculars to watch all the soldier types move out. Wondering when they were due to return he kept watch, knowing his group were safely hidden in the abandoned houses nearby.

Some came back then more left. Judging by the pile of bodies stacked up, this group had certainly been busy. This meant they had done the hard work and cleared the area of the zombies.

When none of them returned for several hours he made his move.

The plan was simple, they were to present themselves as refugees much like everyone else. The women and children were to be at the front obscuring the view of the armed men behind. With the gates wide open and the front area in a general scene of confusion, it was executed with perfection.

The woman and children chattered noisily as they reached the front. Many of them calling out to ask questions as the young woman with the accent came out with the black girl. With so many voices calling out they quickly became distracted. The men watched and waited for Shaun to give the signal and held still for long minutes. Letting the distraction grow, watching as the two women from the fort tried to get order from the new group, waiting as the few kids left nearby grew bored and lost interest. Moving slowly the men started filtering out from the main body of the group, just a few steps taken with the weapons held out of sight. A few rolls of the eyes, a few hands rubbing foreheads and temples and the image of hen-pecked men folk was superbly presented.

The take-over was almost instant. One second Lenski and Sierra were doing their best to answer questions and calm the scared and angry women down. The next second they were surrounded by men holding weapons, pointing shotguns and rifles at them.

The children left behind when the rest moved out to assist Howie and Maddox were too slow to react, seeing their two leaders so rapidly disarmed they had no choice but to relinquish their own arms.

Shaun gave the order as his group swept through the gates. With the place occupied by new people not having any idea as to the established running order, there was no serious opposition. Control was taken, the fort secured and that was it.

Easy.

Then it all went horribly wrong. The return of the first group marked the initial opportunity to explain how things were. One man posted outside with a gun, several more on the inside of the first gate and the idea was simple; get them disarmed first and then consideration would be given to whether access would be granted.

Shaun assumed he had factored for every eventuality, whereas in reality he had not factored for shit. For instance the lack of willingness on behalf of those coming back to be cowed by a single armed sentry, the experience they had of fighting, the aggression of coming from a very recent highly intense battle, the cohesive manner of their movement. None of that was factored.

What they got was a very angry Maddox and an equally angry Maddox who destroyed the armed sentry, gained entry to the first gates then destroyed everyone else.

Those that got back inside spoke of how fast they moved, the brutality of their actions and the violence dished out.

Since then the situation had allowed to become stagnant. Shaun gathered his group to establish the next course of action. The overriding impression was that if the people out there would willingly kill the men behind the first gate, they sure as hell wouldn’t hesitate to do the rest if they got inside.

Some suggestions of opening negotiations were put forward. Some ideas of fleeing out the back door, but they were quickly negated when the rear area was actually checked and found to consist of a very narrow strip and very deep water.

Hesitation to make a decision moved into reluctance and slowly morphed towards clear delay. Those outside made repeated efforts to gain contact, calling out for anyone to talk, banging on the gate and shouting.

Shaun forbade any of his team from answering. Instead he waited, but not knowing what he was waiting meant the waiting just stretched on through the long hours of the night.

The worry that he had made a very bad decision was nagging at him. He didn’t think it through clearly enough. Of course the fort occupants seen driving away had only been going somewhere to do something.

Of course they would come back and what the hell was he thinking? If they were strong enough to take and hold a fort in the first place, they wouldn’t exactly roll over. It was just the thought of no longer being the leader of his group, of not being admired and listened to. He was an estate agent, a nobody from nowhere living a life of boredom and repetition. This was his chance to forge himself into something unique and strong.

Those two women at the front, Lenski and Sierra, had been taken to the old police offices and questioned by Shaun himself. His self-imposed feeling of importance was soon withered by the surly attitude of Lenski mixed with the passive-aggression of Sierra.

You have no idea, no idea what you bitten off. The black girl, Sierra, had said to him. That was the thing that really sunk worry into his gut. They weren’t afraid or cowed for themselves, but rather they begged and pleaded for him to surrender now before it was too late.

He had the men with guns, he had the weapons, he had the upper hand and he was in control but they were begging him to stop while he had the chance. Their total confidence rippled through his group, whispers turned into muttered conversations. Quick glances became long stares of concern.

Give it up yes? Before it too late, you stop now and they not hurt you. Who the fuck had he picked a fight with? A combination of the SAS, Navy Seals and Millwall football fans by the sounds of it.

Even those little kids outside kept tutting and shaking their heads, sucking their little bastard council estate teeth while retaining an air that his group had done something very, very bad.

‘Shaun,’ Derek walks in nodding once in greeting, ‘what did they say?’

‘Same thing,’ Shaun replies.

‘Fuck,’ Derek sighs visibly sagging, ‘Did they say who they were?’

‘Not really, they don’t need to,’ Shaun mumbles, ‘look at what they did, they fucking slaughtered everyone out there within minutes…’

‘I fucking knew this was a bad idea,’ Derek mutters. Leaning his back against a wall, he lowers the rifle to stare at the ground.

‘Bollocks Derek,’ Shaun snaps, ‘you were up for it as much as I was, so don’t start trying to back out now.’

‘I’m not.’ Derek, seeing the angry look on Shaun’s face, is quick to placate him, ‘I’m with you Shaun.’

‘Yeah you are, we all are…all of us so don’t fucking forget it.’

‘But like,’ Derek stammers, ‘them fucking kids out there are putting the fear of god into our lot, saying shit about some big, hench bloke and someone called Maddox and…’

‘And what?’

‘Nothing,’ Derek looks away.

‘And what!?’ Shaun demands.

‘A ninja,’ Derek spits it out, ‘they keep saying they got a fucking ninja called Dave.’

‘A what? A ninja? Don’t be so bloody stupid,’ Shaun huffs shaking his head with disgust.

‘S’wot they said,’ Derek mutters, ‘and we, well we got kids Shaun. You ain’t got any kids and no wife but we have,’ Derek plucks the courage up to say what he was sent in for, ‘we’ve got families Shaun, it’s alright for you being single an’ all but…’

‘But what?’ Shaun asks quietly, ‘so it’s okay for me to get killed but not you because you got kids yeah? So you decided to breed a couple of brats and that makes you better than me?’

‘No,’ Derek blanches, ‘nothin’ like that Shaun…but like, they’re shitting themselves now and like, they’re saying this was your idea and…’

‘Keep going.’

‘Well and, we could have just come in here anyway…we didn’t need to do all the guns and stuff and take it over…,’ he adds quietly.

‘Bit late Derek,’ Shaun locks eyes on the man, ‘wouldn’t you say?’

‘Talk to ‘em then,’ Derek pleads, ‘fucking hell Shaun, just fuckin’ talk to ‘em and see what they say.’

‘What do you think they will say?’ Hey, don’t worry, we won’t do anything with our fucking ninja, just open the gates and everything will be okay,’ Shaun mimics a light tone waving his free hand about, ‘yeah, we won’t kill all of you…really we won’t.’

‘We can make a deal,’ Derek suggests, ‘like we let their people go or something.’

‘Yeah great idea,’ Shaun mocks, ‘we increase their numbers even more making it easier for them to fight their way in.’

‘Shaun this place is huge, we don’t got enough blokes to keep watch everywhere…we got the women in some places and they’s fuckin’ fumin’ at us.’

‘Hey man,’ Ginge strolls in with a roll up hanging from his mouth, ‘hey Derek man.’

‘Ginge, you alright?’

‘Yeah but like, you know this is fucked up D-man, like some fucked up shit.’

‘For fucks sake Ginge, his name is fucking Derek. Stop fucking calling him D-man,’ Shaun explodes. Ginge rolls his eyes quickly at Derek and lapses into silence.

‘Shaun?’ Derek asks lightly.

‘I fucking heard you Derek,’ Shaun snaps.

‘So, like? What we gonna do then?’ Derek stammers, turning to Ginge he says, ‘I said we should go talk to them.’

‘Man, that’s like a great idea,’ Ginge nods with a big grin, ‘yeah like we go and chat man, shoot some shit and see what they say.’

‘I need time to think,’ Shaun says quietly, his manner distracted as he paces up and down the room swinging the sawn-off in one hand. This is all fucked up. Even the thought of going out there to quell the rising issues is too much to deal with.

‘Yeah man,’ Ginge nods in agreement, ‘but like Shaun man? You’ve had like ages to think and like, it’s almost daylight you know?’

‘FINE!’ Shaun screams in temper. Speaking to them is about the only option left. What started out as a take-over has quickly become a feeling of being held prisoner. Using the constant nagging as a way of agreeing without being seen to be weak he agrees to the negotiations.

‘Like really man?’ Ginge nods stupidly.

‘Yeah man,’ Shaun mimics him cruelly, ‘yeah man we’ll go and fucking speak to them man.’

‘Cool,’ Ginge nods either missing the mocking or choosing to ignore it.

‘Twat,’ Shaun spits. Striding past the two men, he wrenches the door open before stomping down towards the front. Even with a face like thunder and keeping his eyes to the front, he spots the angry glances being sent his way. Murmured voices and whispered comments all add to the pressure he already feels.

‘We’re going to negotiate,’ Derek announces making Shaun wince, ‘just bear with us folks and we’ll get this all sorted.’

Folks? Get this sorted? Shaun bites down the urge to scream obscenities at the idiot, instead keeping his head fixed forward while marching towards the gate.

‘Shaun, you alright mate?’ One of the armed men stationed there nods at seeing the three men approach.

‘Fine,’ Shaun snaps, ‘anything?’

‘Nothing,’ the man replies, ‘quiet as fuck.

The three men stop, Shaun in the lead with Ginge and Derek close behind him.

‘Shaun’s gonna talk to ‘em,’ Derek nods eagerly, ‘like get some negotiations going.’

‘That’s great Shaun, good luck,’ the gate guard says earnestly.

‘Yeah great,’ Shaun mutters. Time to switch on, time to get the old estate agents juices going, selling all that real estate and making good money from commission. Yep, Shaun could sell an igloo to an Eskimo. Everyone is watching Shaunie, they’re all looking to you, better make it good. Not too soft, don’t show fear but not too hard either and make them think there is no hope. Give them a glimmer of hope, show them an escape route out of this mess.

Thinking hard he nods to himself, rubbing his hands down his trousers to wipe the sweat off, the sawn-off clamped under his armpit. Glancing up he spots the first tendrils of light spreading across the sky. Hot, too hot. It’s close in here with no breeze or air.

Clearing his throat noisily, Shaun steps closer to the gate. No, if he speaks from here they could try and shoot through it. Stepping aside he turns to see everyone staring at him, not just his own group but everybody from the camp by the looks of it. Thank fuck those two woman are locked up.

Come on Shaunie, time to shine.

‘Right,’ he calls out in a firm voice, ‘you listening out there? It’s about time we had a little chat.’ Happy with that, nice strong opening making him sound like the decision to talk is his own and not through force or being worried.

‘We got loads of armed people in here, guns and…more guns,’ wincing he moves on swiftly, long years of intense wrangling with buyers, sellers and all the people in between had given him good skills to know when to rush on and smooth over the verbal cracks, ‘we got your people here too, they’re all safe and nobody has been hurt…yet,’ he adds menacingly. Yeah, good start. Shows them there’s some intent if he’s not happy.

Hmmm, they really should have said something back by now, just silence. No sounds at all.

‘You hear me out there?’ He shouts, ‘I said nobody has been hurt yet, that can soon change.’

Silence, long seconds of silence. Someone in the camp coughs, others shift position. A rifle butt knocks against someone’s shotgun followed by a muted “excuse me”.

‘Go ahead,’ a voice calls out casually from the other side, ‘you’s fucked anyway.’

‘What?’ Shaun stares in shock at the inert gate as though that was the thing that spoke to him.

‘You deaf or something?’ The voice calls back, ‘I said do what you want cos you’s fucked anyway.’

‘Oi…’ Shaun shouts trying to make his voice sound less shocked and more aggressive.

‘You ain’t got no way out bro,’ Maddox shouts using a hard street edge to his voice, ‘there are no other exits, no other way out but through this door,’ Maddox blends his voice skilfully, easing gradually from the street voice to the educated voice as the Bossman used to call it. He knows the effect will be disconcerting to them, ‘so go ahead, kill everyone, kill everything…’

‘Now hang on a minute,’ Shaun blusters.

‘But,’ the single word silences Shaun instantly, clear and calm yet full of authority. No panic in that voice, just complete confidence.

‘But what?’ Shaun asks realising that by asking he just lost the power dynamic of the attempted negotiations.

‘No buts,’ a female voice calls out now, ‘you’re all going to die for what you’ve done, slowly, painfully and every single one of you will suffer horribly…’ Paula is also used to negotiations and also very used to dealing with men.

‘And we’re going to feed you to the zombies,’ Maddox adds, ‘all of you, your wives and children will go first while you watch.’

Shaun spins round at the muted ripples of consternation spreading through the crowd behind him. The voices are so clear, carrying easily to the far ends of the small gathered crowd.

‘And anyone that stands with you will suffer the same fate,’ Paula shouts, ‘and their families and their children too.’

‘Shit man, what the fuck?’ Ginge stares in horror at Shaun.

‘We’ll burn your fucking fort to the ground, we’ll kill everyone and leave nothing behind…everything you just said we can do too,’ Shaun bellows.

Silence again. He stares at the gate expectantly, waiting for the retort.

‘Sorry, did you say something?’ Paula shouts casually, ‘we were talking.’

‘I said we’ll burn your house to the ground…’

‘Fort,’ Derek interrupts.

‘What?’ Shaun snaps.

‘Fort, you said house…we’re in a fort.’

‘Derek, fuck off you twat,’ Shaun seethes, ‘I said we’ll burn your fort to…’

‘You did say house,’ the female voice cuts him off mid-flow.

‘Yes I bloody know but doesn't matter, house, fort, fucking caravan… we’ll burn it and everyone inside.’

‘That includes you,’ Maddox says.

‘Yeah,’ Shaun roars, ‘yeah us too.’

‘Go ahead, saves us a job,’ Maddox says with an almost verbal shrug for effect.

‘What’s your name?’ Shaun asks quickly. Personalise the conversation, take away the faceless entity and start working on the person.

‘My name?’ Maddox asks.

‘Yes, what is it?’

‘My name is fuck you.’

‘Right, is that how you want this to go? I can get some of your people here right now and fucking shoot them, then for every minute you hang about out there I’ll shoot another one.’

‘Like I said,’ Maddox replies in a flat almost bored voice, ‘you do what you gotta do, but just one thing…for every bruise on our people I will cut a finger off, for every mark you leave I will cut a toe off, for every open wound that bleeds I will feed you those fingers and toes one at a time and I will keep going until all of your people have neither fingers nor toes…after that I will start on tongues …and that’s just your children.’

‘Man,’ Ginge shakes his head, ‘we shouldn’t of come here you know like, like this is bad shit, really bad shit.’

‘They’re fucking psycho’s, really…really real psycho’s…we’re fucked.’

‘Psycho’s?’ Paula calls out, ‘no, not us…that’s the other ones. Mr Howie and Dave and their team…we’re very nice compared to them.’

Fresh murmurs course through the crowd at hearing the names now so familiar to them. Those murmurs easily reach the ears of Paula, Maddox and the others grouped near the outside of the gate.

‘They’ve held this place against everything,’ Paula continues aware of how many people must be listening, ‘you saw the bodies at the top? The big stacks of bodies piled high? They killed every one of them, they’ve killed tens of thousands and most likely more than that. The zombies got inside that fort you are inside now…they turned all of their friends and families and you know what they did?’ She pauses for effect, ‘they killed them, they cut them down without hesitation. Do you understand? They killed their own families to keep this fort…do you think for one second they will let anyone else take it from them?’

‘Shaun,’ Derek mutters, ‘mate, this is going bent…seriously really…’

‘Listen to him Shaun man,’ Ginge cuts in.

‘Shut up,’ Shaun hisses.

‘This fort is a free place,’ Maddox takes the flow up, ‘every man, woman and child in there is there from their own free will, you get me bro?’ He slips easily into his urban twang with a hard edge, ‘they could come and go as they please,’ straight back out to normal voice, ‘what you have done is create a tyranny, a tyrannical rule whereby you are forcing people to be held against their will. We invited them in, we gave them shelter and promised them safety and food. What are you doing?’ Maddox ends with the loaded question, ‘can they leave if they want?’

‘What my colleague is saying,’ Paula takes her turn, ‘is that you tried to take something by force that would have been given to you freely. We would have taken you all in with open arms, we could feed you, give you clean clothes and running water, we have order and control. We have stability and people who want to work towards making a safe place for everyone.’

‘But you gone and fucked all that up bruv,’ Maddox jumps in, ‘fucked it up good and proper.’

The sense of panic in Shaun rises to the point of threatening to burst from the top of his head. Sweat pours down his face. His control is gone, slipping away through his fingers.

‘Tell you what we’ll do,’ Paula says, ‘take an hour or two to discuss it with your people, let them know the women and children are free to stay here without duress or punishment. We understand the dangers out there and that many people will want to stay in big groups for safety. So you all have a chat and then let us know what you want to do.’

‘Wait,’ Derek blurts out fearing like the people outside are about to walk off, ‘you said the women and children can stay, what about the men?’

Silence. Maddox giving Paula a shake of the head telling her not to answer. She nods back understanding his methods.

‘Hey? You there?’ Derek shouts again, ‘I said what about the men?’

Still no reply. Just an empty silence.

‘Man,’ Ginge sweeps his long greasy hair from his forehead, ‘this is so bad like, you know? Like so bad, it’s a real downer for sure.’

‘Ginge, ’Shaun seizes on the thing he can be angry about, ‘you are a total prick you know that? A complete total fucking surfer prick.’

‘Hey man,’ Ginge shakes his head, the locks of hair falling back over the top of his head, ‘like you know Shaun,’ he adds without saying anything at all.

‘Shaun, we gotta talk about this,’ Derek shuffles nervously from foot to foot, ‘really Shaun, we really gotta talk about this yeah?’

‘Not here,’ Shaun hisses, ‘in the office.’

‘Wait a minute,’ one of the women in the crowd says, a solid built lady that was instrumental in causing the distraction outside. ‘This concerns all of us now so you ain’t running off to discuss things behind our backs.’

‘Yeah, bloody right,’ someone adds firmly as murmurs of agreement grow.

‘Fine, can we just go away from here at least,’ Shaun concedes.

The group move off. The people that were present before the new armed group arrived stay close to listen. Sensing this man is rapidly losing control, and having heard word for word what Maddox and Paula said they stay quiet, waiting to see how it plays out.

Shaun pauses for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He stares back at the gate, wishing it was wide open so he could run through it and get as far away from here as possible.

Thinking frantically he moves slowly behind the crowd regretting ever coming here.

***

‘Did we push it too far?’ Paula whispers. Having moved away from the inside of the gate they stand outside the fort speaking in low voices. Maddox looks to Paula, then to Roy standing quietly as he follows the conversation, and finally to Darius nearby, keeping a close eye on the inner section.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ Maddox replies, ‘they sound scared and you heard all the other people in there talking.’

‘I did,’ Paula nods, ‘you don’t think he’ll carry out the threat then?’

‘Kill people? No,’ Maddox says firmly, ‘definitely no way, even if he wants to, I think the others will stop him. The men he’s got with him have families in there and we’ve given them a way out by saying the women and children can stay. Nah, he’s shitting himself right now…’

‘I agree,’ Roy interjects, ‘he’s going to be feeling more like a prisoner than a siege lord.’

‘Siege lord?’ Paula gives him a quick quizzical look.

‘And I know what Sierra will be saying,’ Darius cuts in, ‘Lenski too…’

‘Plus the crew we left here,’ Maddox nods at his friend, ‘they ain’t stupid, they’ll be saying things to plant seeds and get them worried.’

‘What now then?’ Paula yawns with a big stretch. Fighting all night then having to deal with this, the  exhaustion is starting to show.

‘We wait,’ Maddox says with that calm air of authority. He knows the outcome will be one of two actions; either they’ll give up and come out of their own accord, or they won’t, and if they don’t then as soon as Howie gets back they’ll go in. Simple. ‘Get some sleep yeah,’ Maddox says, ‘Darius you keep watch for now bruv, get me if anything happens.’

‘You sleeping too?’ Paula asks with surprise, ‘aren’t you worried for Lenski and the others.’

Maddox thinks before answering, the natural inclination to never admit a weakness and never display emotion. ‘Worrying won’t fix this, being smart and thinking straight is what we need and being too tired to do either won’t help anyone, get some rest. Darius, you on it yeah?’

‘I’m on it Mads.’

He walks off ending the conversation, his face doesn't betray a flicker of expression but those intelligent eyes never stop. Searching, thinking, planning and factoring every nuance that might happen. Lenski is the first woman he has ever got close to. Being a well-built handsome man, Maddox has enjoyed more than his fair share of attention from the opposite sex but Lenski is different, all of this is different. New world, new rules.

For the first time in his life he feels a nagging sensation deep inside, that the person he loves is in danger and there is nothing he can do to help. The cold, ruthless core of Maddox works swiftly to override that sensation. Lenski is exceptionally capable and intelligent, and she can look after herself.

It’s all a game of chess Maddox, life is a game of chess. Know your opponent and know yourself, then you can predict what he’ll do next, once you know that you are in control.

The Bossman ended his reign badly, fucking up from smoking too much of his own produce but the lessons he instilled in Maddox run deep. In order to plan he needs a mind that is sharp. Sleep deprivation does not make a sharp mind.

Settling down in the shaded lee of the wall he closes his eyes. Breathing deeply to help calm his mind, he slowly allows sleep to start pulling him under.

‘He’s an exceptional kid,’ Paula whispers to Roy. Both of them resting against the wall some distance away watch as calmly rests.

‘Yep,’ Roy agrees, ‘how old is he? Can’t be more than twenty.’

‘Must be about that. How are you doing?’ She looks at the man next to her. She has known him for less than 24 hours, but it feels so much longer. The way he fought last night was incredible, first with his bow and arrow cutting them down as they burst forward to attack the lines. In the dark, with so much noise and heat, he didn’t miss once, an amazing feat of skill.

Even after that, when the time for projectile weapons was done and it came down to getting close, he didn’t falter but pulled his sword out and stayed close to Paula throughout. Fit, strong and athletic and he stayed steady; not letting anger, or fear, control him.

‘Me?’ Roy asks, ‘yeah I got this funny feeling in my back,’ he shifts position with a worried look on his face, ‘like a dull pain.’

‘Where?’ She asks softly.

‘Behind my right lung, like when I breathe in really deep it hurts.’

‘Okay, show me,’ Paula slips into the calm doctor type tones she knows will calm his worried countenance. Placing a hand on his back, she moves it around slowly as he shifts and wriggles.

‘Up a bit…no not there…bit left…too much go back…yeah that’s it, just in there.’

‘Does it hurt a lot?’ Paula asks.

‘No, it’s a tiny pain really, but that’s what tumours do. They just grow silently until they’re the size of bowling balls.’

‘I can’t feel anything Roy,’ flattening her hand she rubs all round the area, pushing harder then gently.

‘Hmmm,’ Roy sighs at the relaxing sensation produced by the inadvertent back rub.

‘Twist round,’ she orders gently. Smiling she starts using both hands to rub his back on the premise of searching for growths, ‘no….’ she says slowly, ‘really can’t feel anything here…’

‘Uh huh,’ Roy mutters, ‘must be something there.’

‘Want me to keep checking? Maybe down here?’ She slowly works down his back, kneading and pressing into the muscles. Sitting cross legged, his head starts dropping as his body relaxes. What a strange man she muses, so competent yet so afraid. What an awful life to have lived every day gripped with irrational fear and being unable to apply logical thinking. It must have dictated his entire life and defined who he was. Yet here he is, not only surviving the apocalypse, but thriving. Healthy, fit and fully in control, he has a complete lack of fear towards the undead, genuinely unbothered about them or anything else going on for that matter.

She’s noticed too that he stays close to her, like they are a pair now, a team within a team. Howie has his lot, Maddox has his crews and they all work together with Paula and Roy.

After what happened in the office on the night it started with that bastard Clarke, she made a decision to reject any form of human contact and go it alone. But as she glances round at the people resting quietly nearby, she realises that she has changed. These people are important to her now, important enough for her to risk her life for, safe in the knowledge that they would also risk their life for her. She is not alone anymore.

‘Did you find something?’ Roy asks. Paula blinks as she realises she’s stopped rubbing and is scratching the back of her right hand absent-mindedly as she thinks. Looking down, she spots the swelling of a definite lump over the last knuckle of her little finger.

‘Oh,’ she mutters taking a closer look.

‘What?’ Roy asks twisting round he notices her staring at her hand, ‘you alright?’

‘Er, yeah,’ she nods quickly.

‘Cor fucking hell, that’s a bit swollen,’ he nods at her hand. ‘Here let me see,’ gently he pulls her hand closer to peer down closely, ‘insect bite,’ he mutters, ‘you got a tiny puncture in the skin, must be allergic to something, is it itchy?’

‘Yeah I was scratching without realising.’

‘Insect,’ Roy nods confidently, ‘maybe a little spider…what?’

‘Don’t say spider,’ she shudders.

‘You don’t like spiders?’

‘I’m terrified of them,’ she half grins, remembering the one in the mechanics workshop toilet creeping towards her. She re-tells the story, putting herself as the idiot blundering about whacking zombies while trying to evade a tiny harmless creature. Chuckling at the story, Roy watches her speaking, absorbed by the self-effacing manner of this beautiful, confident woman.

More than once he’s been called misanthropic with his general distaste for all things humanity, and the thought of teaming up with anyone, even a beautiful woman, would have sent feelings of repulsion through him.

He was a good looking man, fit and athletic with a very intelligent mind and deep down he was also exceptionally kind. It was the anxiety that made him appear self-obsessed and selfish, and in turn, that tended to drive people away. They never understood and just kept saying things like get over it, snap out of it, just don’t think about it. Only that wasn’t possible, there was something wrong with his mind. He knew that and as years went by he just kind of accepted it.

A sensation would appear in his body and his mind would go into meltdown with an immediate assumption it was some horrific, fatal disease. He was checked, given a clean bill of health and would be fine for a few days until the next one started.

Like Paula, he rejected thoughts of teaming up with anyone, instead embracing the solace in return for not being judged.

Again, he feels differently now. With Paula on hand to soothe his fears, he can concentrate on things other than himself. For the first time in years, he can work with other people towards a common aim. These people were very capable and willing to get stuck in, plus with everything going on they haven’t judged him.

He likes the quiet Mr Howie and the immense power oozing from him, same with Maddox. That youth is deeply intelligent and very tough. Dave, Clarence and even those lads with them. They all seem, well they seem right. Right for this. The right people to deal with it. They cut down so many last night, more than he could ever imagine and with Paula by his side he didn’t have to worry about covering his back.

This fort isn’t his, it means nothing to him. He only came here thinking there would be doctors to check him over and find the many diseases that must have developed in the last two weeks. He could walk away, go find his van and survive the way he was before, only something is stopping him. A sense of a mission started that has to be seen through. Secure the fort, re-establish control for Mr Howie and Maddox then he and Paula can go find some doctors and medical equipment. Yep, that’s the plan. Isn’t it? Is there another reason for staying here? There is something else deep down that has yet to surface into a tangible thought. Paula resumes the back rub and that intangible thought floats a bit closer to the surface.

Maybe another reason for staying.

Maybe.

Thirty Six

The chair is too big for him. His legs dangle with his feet still inches from the ground. Hands on his lap, he watches the man.

Never in his young life has Billy seen such a man before. His mind reeling from recent events, he just stares in wonder at the person in front of him.

‘So young Billy,’ the Doc smiles, showing a great big mouth full of slightly crooked teeth. Billy doesn't know where to look. The teeth are big, his mouth is big, his nose is bigger than any nose he has seen before and those eyes. A light shade of blue edging into grey and so cold yet so friendly at the same time. Almost hypnotic and Billy stares in a trance like state.

‘How are you feeling?’ The Doc asks in a deep voice that rolls from his mouth. ‘I understand,’ he says, when Billie doesn’t answer. He then stands upright causing young Billy to crane his neck back just to look up.

‘You need me here?’ Larson asks from the door.

‘No, no I don’t think so,’ the Doc replies, ‘I think Billy and I will be just fine.’ The Doc crosses the room in three easy strides to stand next to Larson. Billy stares at the height difference. Being young and small means everyone looks big to Billy, but the Doc towers over Larson. He towers over everything.

Tall but not wide, with long arms and legs, and huge hands with great big long fingers and thick nails on the ends.

‘Call if you need me,’ Larson nods. Walking out he pulls the door closed behind him sealing Billy in the room with this strangest of men.

‘Larson,’ the Doc opens the door calling after the man, ‘tell Vince I will speak to him shortly.’

‘Will do,’ Larson nods. Billy watches this interaction wondering why the Doc didn’t just say that to Vince himself. Vince is stood right there, right next to Larson.

‘Ah,’ the Doc grins, turning back to Billy like he forgot he was there. Crossing back over the room, he pulls a wheeled chair out from under a desk and pushes it across the room towards Billy.

‘That’s better,’ he sighs as he eases himself into the chair. Still smiling he watches Billy, ‘one of the few disadvantages of being so tall,’ the Doc explains, ‘get sore knees,’ he adds with a conspiring wink.

‘So Billy, tell me about you,’ a gentle question but a command nonetheless. Billy doesn't know what to say but looks at the man’s hair. Long and grey and it hangs limply down to his shoulders. There was a man in Billy’s town that had hair like that. Mummy said the man was homeless which means he had lost his home. Billy thought this was odd as a house was very big, so how did you lose it? Unless you forget where you put it but then you could just ask someone to help find it, like he did when he couldn’t find one of his toys.

‘I understand,’ the Doc repeats knowingly, ‘you must be terrified and I understand that Billy, really I do. I’m a doctor Billy, do you know what that means?’

Billy nods, a small tiny movement.

‘Good,’ the Doc beams showing his crooked teeth again, ‘a doctor is an expert who knows everything about the body, my body, your body, everyone’s body. Like a mechanic that fixes cars a doctor fixes bodies. That’s what I do,’ the Doc continues in a deep rumble, ‘now, do you know what is happening?’

The question is too broad for Billy to understand so he simply stays quiet and watches the man.

‘I shall tell you,’ the Doc adds, ‘do you know what a disease is Billy? A disease is when some germs get inside your body and make you sick. Like when you get a cold and can’t stop coughing or sneezing. That is like a disease. Some diseases like the cold, are quite harmless and don’t really hurt us because our bodies can do things that make them go away. Some diseases are stronger and the body can’t make them go away, but doctors have medicines and we can use those medicines to make them go away.’ The Doc pauses, taking a breath and nodding with a quick grin.

‘What’s happened out there Billy, is that a new disease has got inside some of the bodies. That disease makes people very, very sick and it makes them want to bite other people. When one person bites another person, it means the disease can move from the first body to the second body. Now Billy, this disease is brand new. We have never known of this disease before. So we don’t have any medicines for it. Do you understand Billy? If someone gets this disease there is nothing we can do to help them, and if we just leave them alone they will bite other people and then lots more will get the disease.

‘So I thought, being a doctor,’ he nods, ‘what we need, is a safe place away from all of the people with the disease. Next I thought, “hey, who shall I invite to live in my safe place?” And you know what Billy? I wanted children to come and live with me. Oh adults can look after themselves, they are big and can run fast but children, well, they are small and young and can’t run so fast so I want this safe place to be for the children. Children like you Billy. We already have other children here but I want more,’ the Doc chuckles holding his big hands spread out. ‘Every room should be full of laughing children that are having fun. We have lessons,’ the Doc drops into a serious tone, ‘lessons are important and children should be taught to read and write and yes Billy, we have bedtimes too as children also need lots of sleep so they can grow big and strong, but we have nice food and lots of space to play and have fun!’

‘But in order to keep all these wonderful, happy children safe we have to have guards Billy, like the queen has people to make sure nothing bad happens to her, well we have the same thing. We have big, strong men with guns that are here to protect us, so there is no need to be frightened of them.’ Leaning forward the Doc drops into a whisper, ‘I know some of them swear and say rude things and that’s very naughty, but sometimes we have to ignore things like that so we can all be safe.’ The Doc sits upright, hands on his knees and beaming happily. When he doesn't say anything, Billy feels that he should speak now, but he can’t remember if there was a question. Fidgeting nervously, he tries to think of everything the Doc just said. It all made sense but he can’t really remember it now.

‘Now onto the serious business,’ the Doc adopts a mock serious manner, ‘we don’t want the disease to ever get into our safe place, do we Billy?’

That is a question and Billy nods first, then realises he should be shaking his head so does that instead.

‘That’s right,’ the Doc says, ‘we don’t want it here, we don’t want that disease to get anywhere near my children, so we have some tests to make sure the disease doesn't get in here. Now Billy, I have a couple of questions for you and I need you to be really honest and not tell me any lies…do you understand?’

Billy nods.

‘Good, has anyone bitten you Billy? Anyone at all, say your mummy or daddy or even a friend, maybe a dog or cat? Anyone at all, has anyone bitten you?’

Billy shakes his head.

‘Has anyone tried to bite you?’

Billy shakes his head.

‘Good,’ the Doc smiles, ‘now, has anyone scratched you like a cat scratches with its sharp claws. Has anyone scratched you Billy?’

Billy shakes his head.

‘Has anyone tried to scratch you?’

Again, Billy shakes his head.

‘Now Billy, this is a disgusting question but very, very important. Has anyone got blood on you? Blood that wasn’t yours?’

Billy nods earning a sudden interested look from the Doc.

‘They have?’

Billy nods again.

‘Who got blood on you Billy? You can tell me, go on…’

‘The man,’ Billy whispers.

‘The man? What man Billy?’

‘The man that did wrestling with Sam and he hurt Norman and my Dad.’

‘Wrestled with Sam? What does that mean Billy? Who is Sam?’

‘Sam was my sister’s friend, the man pulled her pants down and wrestled with her but she didn’t like it and she cried so the man hit her.’

‘Did he now?’ The Doc says softly, ‘and he hurt your Daddy too and the other man, Norman?’

Billy nods.

‘Was it the man that brought you here Billy? Was it Vince?’

Billy shakes his head.

‘The man that was with Vince, he did all of that?’

Billy nods.

‘What did Vince do?’

‘He was watching,’ Billy mutters, unable to take his eyes off the Doc’s face.

‘I see, and it was after the man wrestled with Sam, and hurt your Daddy and Norman ,that you got blood on you, is that right?’

Billy nods.

‘Right,’ the Doc says slowly, ‘hmmm, I think Billy that I need to talk to Vince for a minute. Can you wait here for me?’

Billy nods.

‘Good boy,’ the Doc smiles but this time there isn’t any humour in his eyes, ‘you stay right there and don’t move.’ The Doc spins round on the chair and strides across the room, pulling the door firmly shut behind him.

Billy does as told and stays rooted to the chair. Outside the room he hears an angry voice and footsteps, then a door slams shut. The angry voice shouts and another noise, like someone slapping their hand on the table. Someone yelps like they hurt themselves. Billy hears more hands on the table and more yelps. Then the yelping stops and a big thud sounds out. The shouting carries on for a little while with more loud banging noises. Then it all goes quiet. Footsteps, door opens and closes, footsteps again, then silence.

After a minute the door opens and the Doc walks in. His face is flushed like he has run up and down the stairs. Billy notices some red ink has splashed on the bottom of his long, white coat. It looks like the coat doctors wear on TV, but a lot dirtier. Mummy would tell him off if he got his coat that dirty.

Breathing hard, the Doc crosses the room and picks up a radio walkie talkie from the desk.

‘Larson.’

‘Here Doc.’

‘I’ve spoken to Vince, can you please deal with him.’

‘Will do Doc.’

‘Right,’ the Doc takes a deep breath before turning to face Billy, ‘I have spoken to Vince and he has said he is very sorry for letting his friend hurt your daddy and the…er…other people, he said it will never happen again. Now where were we? Oh yes, you got some blood on you, didn’t you Billy?’

Billy nods, watching the beads of sweat fall from the Doc’s large, broad forehead.

‘Now, although I am very, very sure the blood was not the diseased blood, we still need to give you a thorough check-up, just to be completely sure. Is that alright with you Billy?’

Billy nods. At this current time he would nod to anything.

‘Have you seen a doctor before Billy?’

‘I had acheear.’

‘You mean earache, so you saw a doctor because your ear hurt yes?’

Billy nods.

‘And I bet the doctor had a torch and he looked in both your ears yes?’

Billy nods, remembering the shiny object the doctor held in her hands.

‘If you had a sore throat the doctor would check your mouth, and if you had a bad foot the doctor would check your foot, wouldn’t they? So what I have to do Billy, is I have check all of you. I need to check all of your body just to make extra sure that you don’t have anything wrong with you, do you understand?’

Billy nods, not really understanding.

‘Good boy, now you get your clothes off and we’ll get you all checked. Then after that you can have some food with Mrs Meryl and then you can meet the other boys and girls.’

Billy holds still wondering what the doctor means. He said get your clothes off and now he’s looking like he’s expecting Billy to do something.

Get your clothes off.

Billy eases forward to drop from the too-big-chair. Slowly, he grabs the bottom of his tee-shirt and starts pulling it up. The Doc grins and nods before turning round to take something from his desk.

‘Good boy Billy, and the pants too…that’s it. I’m a doctor Billy and I have seen many, many naked people so don’t you worry about anything.’

Billy works at his button, wishing Lilly was here to help him. His mummy was with his when the doctor looked in his ears but now he’s alone. Slowly, he pulls his shorts and pants down to stand naked.

‘Have you seen one of these before Billy?’ The Doc looks the boy up and down whilst holding out his stethoscope.

Billy nods then shakes his head; he’s seen them on television but not in real life.

‘This is called a stethoscope.’ The Doc drops down onto his knees in front of Billy and reaches towards him, ‘here, you put these bits in your ears like this,’ he pushes the ends into Billy’s ears. ‘Ah, your ears are too small, here you hold them.’ Billy reaches up to hold the end next to his ears.

‘Now, this bit we put against the chest like this and you can hear the heart working away,’ the Doc places the round section against Billy’s chest.

‘Can you hear it Billy?’

Billy nods, hearing a thump-da-thump.

‘So that means that your heart is working properly,’ the Doc grins, ‘now try mine, is my heart working properly Billy?’

The Doc deftly undoes a button of his open necked shirt to reveal a smooth, very pale chest. He stretches the stethoscope towards his chest, pulling Billy in closer.

‘So your heart works okay and my heart works okay, what else do we need to check?’

Billy stares awkwardly up at the Doc, unsure of what to say so he just listens to the Doc’s heart instead. The sound is much different to his own heart. The Doc’s heart is booming much faster and harder.

‘We have to listen to your lungs,’ the Doc says. Taking the stethoscope end he presses it once more to Billy’s chest, then gently takes the ends from Billy to press into his own ears.

Billy waits as the Doc listens intently. ‘Breath in for me Billy, nice big breath, that’s it…’

The Doc leans in closer, dropping his head so it almost touches Billy’s chest. Maybe being closer means the tube things work better. Billy glances down at the big bald patch on the top of the Doc’s head and the white bits of skin his mummy always called Dandyrough or something.

This close to the Doctor, Billy can smell the sweat coming from him. It’s stale smell that isn’t very nice but the Doc stays there for a long time just leaning in close and listening while Billy breathes in and out.

Eventually, he pulls away and takes the tube thing out from his ears. Pulling a thin torch from his top pocket he clicks the end to make it light up.

‘Now, we have to check you all over,’ the Doc says. His face is red again and he speaks a bit faster than he did before.

Billy stands quietly while the Doc pours over every inch of his skin. His back and chest, his arms and armpits, then his feet and legs. The Doc doesn't touch him but hovers really close, so close that Billy can feel his hot breath on his skin.

The Doc seems to spend ages looking at Billy’s bottom then round at his front bits.

‘Got to be very careful here Billy,’ the Doc says breathlessly, ‘the disease can get in places like this very easily so we have to be very, very careful and keep a good watch.’

The Doc stares and stares, moving slowly to shine the torch from lots of different angles but still doesn't touch Billy. A couple of times it’s like the Doc wants to touch Billy but he doesn't, his big hand just sort of stops and shakes a bit before dropping.

‘Right,’ the Doc calls out in a loud voice as he clambers back to his feet, ‘I would say, young Billy, that you are all clear, isn’t that good?’ The Doc turns away, taking a tissue from his desk he wipes the sweat from his face with trembling hands.

‘But,’ the Doc says with his back still turned to Billy, ‘we have to keep checking to make sure the disease doesn't get here, oh you can get dressed again now Billy,’ the Doc adds as he turns back to see Billy still standing there naked.

‘Larson, Billy is all clear. He needs to go down to Meryl for some food.’

‘Okay Doc, give me a minute.’

Pulling his wheeled chair back to his desk the Doc doesn't glance at Billy but sits down to start leafing through a big book. Billy dresses quickly and waits.

‘Wait outside please Billy,’ the Doc says without looking round, ‘Larson will be up for you in a minute.’ His voice is different now, speaking like the teachers did at school when they were busy and didn’t want to talk to you.

Closing the door behind him, Billy waits in the corridor like he was told to. A door further down opens and he watches two men pulling another man out. Billy recognises the clothes that Vince was wearing and wonders what happened him? Maybe he fell down and cut his head.

One of the men carrying Vince glances up the corridor and spots Billy. ‘Shit, go back, go back,’ he urges his mate. Within a second they’ve shuffled out of view, closing the door behind them.

Billy just waits thinking that this place is very strange but he’s glad the disease hasn’t got him. The disease sounds horrible and Billy doesn't want to bite anyone either.

Quietly, he waits thinking about the big, strange man in the white coat and wondering if Lilly will be here soon.

Thirty Seven

‘That’s the last one,’ I say. Clambering into the big, zebra striped Landrover I glance back at the gates now open.

‘You sure about this?’ Lani asks, ‘I mean, nice idea but…’

‘It’s done now.’

‘We couldn’t just leave them locked up like that,’ Cookey says, twisting round as though expecting to see herds of wild animals bursting from the gates in a mad dash for freedom.

‘We might have just re-introduced wild predators to England,’ Blowers says proudly, ‘now that is cool.’

The decision to open the safari park was taken quickly. We all felt a sense of responsibility for the animals after seeing the lion and gorilla fight. That was our fault, and none of us wanted more animal death on our hands. The lions were able to move about now, so they could go through the broken enclosures but that meant the prey animals had nowhere to go. So we opened everything.

Clarence found the keys to one of the safari vehicles, all of us laughing when he pulled up in the black and white striped Landrover. Milly was safely secured inside with Clarence and Meredith was tied up using some rope we found. After that it didn’t take long, moving to each enclosure, breaking the locks, snapping chains and pulling the gates open.

For a second or two we did consider the snakes in the glass cabinets. The big pythons wouldn’t have been a problem, but none of us fancied trying to release a more nimble cobra or rattlesnake.

Milly had a great time, a proper trip round the park looking at all the animals while being held by Clarence. Bouncing up and down with absurd glee and asking us each in turn whether we liked certain animals.

The fleeting conversation we had earlier in the café was done and apparently gone. She hasn’t said as much, but I think we all get the impression she was a bit neglected by her family.

Loaded up, we leave via the long exit road as we snake through the wooded copses to the main road.

‘Ha!’ Cookey bursts out laughing, ‘guess what we just saw?’

‘What?’ Blowers asks.

‘Lions and tigers and bears….’ He looks round waiting for someone to finish the sentence. ‘Oh come on…Lions and tigers and bears…Don’t leave me hanging.’

‘Not doing it,’ Blowers shakes his head.

‘Lani? Come on!’

‘Nope, not a chance Cookey.

‘Clarence?’

‘What do you think?’

‘Dave then, come on Dave…’

‘What?’

‘Finish it off…Lions and tigers and bears….’

‘And what?’ Dave asks dully.

‘Boss?’ Cookey moves swiftly on, looking at me with a pleading look.

Smiling whilst shaking my head I feel the stupid urge to say it.

‘Don’t do it Mr Howie,’ Blowers urges.

‘I can’t leave him hanging,’ I say, ‘go on then…’

‘Ha! Lions and tigers and bears…’

‘Oh my,’ in the end it comes out with a laugh as Cookey cheers. Milly watches, enraptured at the young lad laughing at his own jokes.

‘Lions and tigers and bears…’ Cookey repeats.

‘Oh my,’ I say louder, laughing at the groans coming from the others.

‘Lions and tigers and bears…’ Cookey sings now.

‘Come on Milly,’ I coax, ‘oh my!’ She claps her hands in delight, waiting for Cookey to say it again so she can join in.

‘Lions and tigers and bears…’

‘OH MY!’ Milly and I shout the reply, both of us laughing.

‘Come on,’ Cookey yells, ‘lions and tigers and bears…’

‘OH MY,’ Lani joins in this time and I can see Blowers is struggling not to say it. Even Clarence is starting to smile.

‘Lions and tigers and bears…’

‘OH MY,’ Blowers joins in laughing, just leaving Clarence and a somewhat bemused Dave to go.

‘Lions and tigers and bears…’

‘OH MY!’ Clarence adds his deep voice to the chorus, even Meredith gives a high-pitched bark at the sudden explosion of noise.

‘Dave, come on Dave,’ Cookey grins, ‘lions…and…’ he goes slowly as everyone turns to stare at Dave, ‘tigers….and bears…..’

Dave looks round at everyone slowly, his expressionless eyes giving nothing away, with a shrug he turns away to stare out the window, ‘oh my,’ he adds quietly with a rare wry smile.

‘YES!’ Cookey booms in victory, ‘I got Dave to say oh my.’

‘Do it again,’ Milly giggles.

‘Lions and tigers and bears…’

‘OH MY,’ Milly yells, almost collapsing in a fit of giggles.

‘Lions and tigers and Millies,’ Cookey calls out.

‘OH MY,’

‘Shame we can’t get the Saxon on the way,’ I turn to Clarence, leaving Cookey and Milly singing in the back.

‘We can go there but unless you know how to fix it.’

‘Not a chance,’ I reply, ‘we need Nick really, Christ I bet even Maddox’s lot will probably know about engines and stuff than us.’

‘You’ve not mentioned it much?’ Clarence asks quietly.

‘Which bit? Immune or one of the other things going on?’

‘Fair point,’ Clarence nods, ‘immunity then, start with that.’

‘What’s to say?’ I ask him, ‘like I said before, it doesn't change anything, without doctors and scientists it means nothing to us.’

‘No, it does mean something, it means everything,’ Clarence says seriously turning to fix me with a keen glare, ‘it explains why they shit themselves round you, explains why you can do that thing…’

‘What about Lani then?’

‘That I don’t know,’ Clarence concedes, ‘the most likely explanation is that you’ve passed some kind if gene or… anti-body to her. Not as strong as yours, which is why she turned but got better whereas you didn’t turn at all.’

‘Maybe, how we gonna test that then? I kiss one of you and send you out to get bit?’

‘Again, fair point,’ Clarence sighs, ‘but seriously boss, maybe it’s something we should be thinking about.’

‘I know, it’s been going through my head,’ I reply, ‘I was thinking like an insurance policy, in case one of you does get bitten then it might help, might be like Lani and resist it.’

‘Right, insurance policy,’ Clarence nods, ‘we should do it.’

‘But mate, on the flip side I could be a carrier, so could Lani. We could still infect you, is that a risk worth taking?’

‘Yes,’ Blowers calls out, making me realise the back has fallen into silence following our conversation.

‘Seriously?’ twisting round I look at the hard lad, only he isn’t a lad really now. Him, Cookey and Nick are men now.

‘Definitely,’ Blowers nods, ‘I’ve been thinking about it…and don’t even think of making any gay jokes,’ he glares at Cookey.

‘I didn’t even think about it,’ Cookey admits, ‘but cheers for reminding me.’

‘So you’d risk getting infected from me to see if you can…I don’t know…resist the virus or…Jesus mate, what if it turns you?’

‘Then you’ll know,’ Blowers replies quickly.

‘Risk one to save many,’ Dave cuts in.

‘No, I couldn’t do it…I couldn’t risk any of you.’

‘Mr Howie,’ Blowers leans forward, ‘they are shi…’ he pauses with a glance at Milly, ‘they are scared of you, we’ve all seen it again and again…’

‘And you kissed Lani, and Lani came back,’ Cookey takes over, ‘what Clarence said makes sense.’

‘No..no…it can’t be that simple…you telling me that my saliva is the cure for the zombie plague? Not a chance lads, sorry.’

‘Why not?’ Clarence asks, ‘if you’d told me two and a half weeks ago I would be running through a lion enclosure to save a little girl, or running around with you lot killing zombies I would have laughed…but here we are.’

‘The circumstances we find ourselves in are completely separate to whether or not my saliva gives you anti-bodies that resist the virus. There are so many factors to this, what about the body the heart came from? He could be the special one, he could be able to carry the virus but not transmit it.’

‘Eye juice and fingers,’ Lani says quickly.

‘It was pitch black and very confusing,’ I retort, ‘anything could have been happening then. ‘We don’t know enough. The risk of me passing saliva to one of you and infecting you is too great.’

‘What about that cigarette yesterday,’ Lani says, ‘remember?’

‘Yeah I remember but that still doesn't mean anything, you might not have got your saliva on it and that was you to me, not the other way round.’

‘So what if Lani made you immune, maybe her saliva got into your system and that’s what protected you,’ Clarence suggests.

‘Maybe,’ I shrug, ‘it could be a thousand different things that led to it. Bloody hell, I could have eaten something three weeks ago that made me immune, it could be a random gene or a mutated string of DNA or… it could just be very lucky.’

‘Lucky?’ Lani lifts one eyebrow, ‘that two people in the same group are immune when the whole world is getting infected?’

‘I agree, I totally agree but the problem is we just don’t know. Forgive me for raising this Lani, but how do we know Marcy didn’t do something to me? Pass me something or…I don’t know but the point is we don’t know anything more than we did before, other than it appears’ I emphasise the word, ‘that I cannot be turned and it appears that Lani is resistant to it. I’m not going to risk infecting any of you, so unless you want to abduct some poor bloke off the street and hold him down while I kiss him, then drive about until we find an undead to throw at him…then forget it.’

They lapse into silence, not sullen or sulky but thoughtful. Milly, unbelievably, stayed quiet during the conversation, watching us all intently before moving in closer to rest her head on Lani’s lap.

‘Have you had any sleep?’ I ask Clarence watching him yawn.

‘No but I’m okay,’ he replies.

‘Nah, pull over mate, I’ll drive the rest of the way.’

‘Sure?’

‘Yep. We’ll need you awake and ready when we get back.’

He doesn't argue but brings the vehicle to a stop. He jumps out to walk round while I climb over and work out how to adjust the seat to bring it forward.

Within minutes he’s nodding off with his face turned to the open window. Using the rear view mirror I see Lani staring out at the passing fields while gently stroking Milly’s face. Sensing me watching her she turns and smiles.

The lads stay quiet for once, all of us absorbed and knackered from the exertion and heat. On the back seat, I see Dave staring at me. Our eyes lock as the sunlight pours through the window, bathing his face in a golden glow. Shadows flit across his face but he doesn't blink or move, just stares at me. I hated him earlier, I hated his coldness and inability to feel but now I remember every sacrifice and risk he has taken for me. How utterly devoted he has been and risking his life again and again.

Last night while I was passed out he chose to go outside and take that horde on his own. None of us would be here if it wasn’t for that quiet man, and for the most fleeting of seconds I get an overwhelming sensation that he knew I was immune all along. Realisation dawns as I remember all those times he’s made odd comments about how I must be the one to survive.

Glancing back at him in the mirror, he’s still staring at me. He nods once and smiles, a small twitch of the lips before turning to stare out the window.

Even if I am immune, it won’t be me that saves everyone. It’ll be Dave.

Thirty Eight

‘Pathogen,’ the Doc mutters to himself. Taking his reading glasses off, he rubs his eyes slowly. ‘Definitely a pathogen.’

A pathogen causes disease in the host. The zombie virus is without doubt a disease that is spread from host to host, making it a communicable disease. It appears to be passed when bodily fluids from a host get into a healthy body.

That much is obvious. The infected zombie bites someone and that person then gets infected. The disease is not airborne, nor does it appear to be able to survive once it is outside the host body. Does that make it parasitical? Or possibly even a parasitoid? If it requires the host to survive, like a parasite would, then surely that must make it parasitical in nature? The Doc rubs his eyes again, Christ this is confusing.

So a parasite gets into the host and in the worst case, eventually destroys the host by eating the organs, destroying the immune system and so on. But this isn’t a parasite.

A parasite can be a form of pathogen, but there are other forms of pathogen too. Pathogen is just the word used to describe anything that can produce disease.

Flicking back a few pages, the Doc starts reading the Introduction to Pathogens chapter again. He discovers the word Prion and a description of how a Prion propagates by transmitting a misfolded protein state. The Prion enters a healthy system and converts the healthy cells into the disease replicated state by acting as a template.

‘Got it,’ the Doc grabs his pen to write the word Prion on his notepad and underscores it several times. ‘The zombie virus is a Prion.’ He knew he could work this out.

Oh wait, a Prion can attach to a virus. Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease is a Prion.

‘Mad cow disease,’ he says finding the right page. Yes of course, CJD was what everyone called it a few years ago. So that was a Prion was it? How interesting. But if Prions and Viruses are both forms of Pathogens then how can a Prion be attached to a Virus? Can they work together? Wouldn’t that make the Prion a parasite? If the Prion was leap-frogging on the back of the Virus it would be parasitical, wouldn’t it? No, a parasite eats the host but the Prion doesn't eat the Virus it just works with it.

Next to the underscored Prion he writes Virus and underscores that too, then links them together with a single line with arrow heads at both ends.

Hmmm, it says here that Smallpox, Measles, Rubella, Ebola and the Flu are all types of Pathogens and they are definitely viruses. So yes, the zombie virus is a Virus. Whether or not it has a Prion on its back is another matter.

So if the Virus is mutated by the Prion, when it gets into the host body the Prion converts all the other cells into replicas of the Virus cells.

The mental image the Doc had of spending hours pottering about a sterilised and brightly lit laboratory, mixing stuff in test tubes and looking at slides under micro-scopes, was rapidly disappearing. For a start, he didn’t have a laboratory yet. His men were too busy gathering supplies and finding children.

Also, he didn’t know what to put in the test-tubes or under the micro-scopes. The movies always showed some wriggly things within the blood, and then worked out a way to kill the wriggly things and become the saviour of the human race.

He didn’t even have any test subjects as there was nowhere to hold them yet.

He looks up sharply at the knocking on his door. Blinking, he rubs his eyes once more.

‘Come in.’

‘Doc,’ Larson nods once as he walks in. Closing the door behind him, he crosses the room and sits in the chair Billy used.

‘Everything okay?’ The Doc asks.

‘Fine,’ Larson replies, ‘except for you killing Vince that is,’ he adds in a mild tone.

‘Hmmm,’ the Doc nods seriously, ‘yes, I did go a bit far.’

‘Again,’ Larson adds quietly, ‘that’s the third time in as many days.’

‘I was angry,’ the Doc shrugs like it’s no big deal, ‘Billy told me what they did and…’

‘And what did Billy say?’ Larson asks folding crossing his legs to listen intently.

‘He said the two men raped the girls and killed their fathers.’

‘Right,’ Larson lifts his eyebrows as if waiting for more.

‘That’s it,’ the Doc says.

‘So you killed him because they did what you said? I didn’t get a chance to speak to Vince or ask him any questions so I’ve got no new intelligence from the sector you gave them. I’ve no idea of where that boy came from, we don’t know where Gordon is…’

‘Gordon?’ The Doc asks.

‘Gordon, the other man that went out with Vince…’

‘Was that his name?’ The Doc realises Gordon must have been the one Billy said was wrestling with his sister after pulling her pants down. He chuckles at the innocent way children explain some things.

‘What’s so funny?’ Larson asks.

‘Nothing, just something Billy said.’

‘What did Billy say?’

‘Ha, he said he saw the men wrestling with his sister only she had her pants down while they were wrestling.’

‘Right, and you find that funny?’

‘Just the way he said, you had to be there…anyway so.’

‘Doc, we need you,’ Larson says with a sudden intensity, ‘we need your expertise and your medical knowledge. You’ve got us this far, living in a nice, big house with loads of food and the idea of assigning sectors for the men to scavenge was brilliant, but you’ve got to stop killing them… Hang on Doc, I’m not criticising you and I know you get angry sometimes and that’s fine but if you keep doing it they’ll bugger off and leave us. They’re already terrified of you, it won’t be long before one goes out on duty and decides just not to come back. Then they’ll all do it. You need them.’

‘Okay,’ the Doc sighs theatrically.

‘They’re just doing what you told them to. You said, Go out to your sectors, go house to house and get the food. If you see any children bring them back. Anything else is down to you. You said that Doc…’

‘Yes yes I know I did,’ the Doc sighs.

‘So what was it this time?’ Larson shakes his head and asks quietly.

‘Billy was upset by what he saw them do,’ the Doc explains, ‘I saw Billy upset and it upset me. So I went to talk with Vince and he…well…he just set me off…’

‘Set you off? How did he set you off?’

‘Well,’ the Doc looks away, ‘his manner, his demeanour, the way he…he…sneered and looked.’

‘Vince wouldn’t sneer at you,’ Larson says with a patient tone, ‘he was shit scared.’

‘Well, it’s done now.’

‘Please Doc, I’m asking nicely.’

‘Yes fine, I understand…no more killing men, yes I’ve got it.’

‘You’re a big man Doc and you don’t know your own strength.’

‘Larson, I’ve said sorry so can we drop it now?’

‘Okay,’ Larson relents, ‘but if they all run off don’t go blaming me. You might let the lads have a few beers tonight? To take their mind of things.’

‘Hmmmm, ok. Just a few though. I mean it Larson, I don’t want my children getting woken up by drunken carousing into the early hours.’

‘How was Billy anyway?’

‘Fine, all checked and all clear.’

‘And you’re still checking them every couple of days?’

‘Of course, we have to be vigilant.

‘What about the men? They’re going out into the world, shouldn’t they be checked too?’

‘I’ve told you what to look for so you do it,’ the Doc snaps, ‘I’ve got enough work to do without getting every man in here, dropping his pants to moon at me.’

Fine for the kids to do it though, Larson muses but stays quiet.

‘Speaking of which, any progress?’ Larson asks nodding at the desk.

‘Well yes actually,’ the Doc’s features light up at his chance to showboat, ‘I have established the zombie virus is a Pathogen, and in particular a Prion attached to a Virus that has mutated into the infection as we know it. Similar to CJD, you remember that outbreak? The papers crassly called it Mad Cow Disease.’

‘Oh yeah I remember,’ Larson nods.

‘CJD was a Prion, which is a form of pathogen that enters the host body and acts as a template, tricking the cell structure to mutate and become like the infected cell. Now, CJD was a Prion, but in this case I am confident that we have a Virus together with a Prion. You know, a Virus like Smallpox or Ebola which are both communicable diseases. The Virus transfers to new hosts and the Prion mutates the existing cells to convert them into the…er…the zombie cells,’ the Doc speaks quickly and he knows he sounds confident, these new words are brilliant. Larson will go back and tell the others the Doc was talking about Prions and Cells and everyone will know how intelligent he is.

‘Good work,’ Larson nods appreciatively, ‘what next then?’

‘Good lord Larson, this takes time and study,’ the Doc sighs, ‘I need time to er…study the virus and establish just how it works.

‘Then you can find the cure right?’

‘Or a vaccine yes, but that takes time and if I have so many other things to do I can’t…’

‘Got it,’ Larson sighs, ‘we’ll leave you alone. Listen why don’t I do the kids then for now so you can just focus on your studies?’

‘No,’ the Doc replies quickly, ‘the children should be checked by a health care professional. When I do establish the vaccine they will be the first to have it so I need to make sure they are fit and healthy.’

‘Fine, right I’ll leave you to it then. By the way, John and Terry never came back either.’

‘Losses have to be expected Larson,’ the Doc pushes his glasses up his long nose.

‘Just letting you know,’ Larson adds before letting himself out.

The power dynamic between the two men was a strange, lilting beast of varying proportions. If anyone else spoke to either man the way they spoke to each other, there would be severe and violent consequences.

It was the Doc’s idea to locate a place such as this and it was Larson that found it. The actual taking of the premises was a joint enterprise as the occupants were killed and the bodies removed for burning.

Once the premises had been secured, it was then a matter of finding resources. The two men ferreted out survivors of a type and manner who were willing to overlook certain behavioural issues in return for safety and food.

As with the fort and Maddox within his compound, as with many secure locations established by survivors across the world, Chapsworth House evolved every day. The more men they got, the wider the scavenging took place, the more food was brought back, the more weapons sourced, the more guards they had and of course; more children.

Larson knew why the Doc was so keen to have children in the house. Regardless of the explanations that they were the innocent casualties of this modern day plague, that they were innocents to be protected so that when the vaccine or cure was found they could be the first to receive it, Larson saw the change in the Doc’s eyes when he talked about children. He could sense the excitement and hunger within the man.

Larson was a survivor and he would survive come hell or high water. He would prevail at any cost and the only real allegiance he had was to himself. For now, it suited his purpose to be with the Doc. Agreeing with the Doc, and not questioning his motives, meant he was kept happily in a bubble of pretence that everything was how he wanted.

The Doc for his part recognised a fellow psychotic when he saw one. Larson might speak with an air of calmness and sound full of common sense and judgement, but the Doc had seen first-hand just how violent the man could be.

Larson didn’t ask why he wanted children here and the only time he did raise an objection was when the Doc’s actions threatened the stability of what they had built, like his frequent temper tantrums as the Doc called them. The same temper tantrums that had now seen several men being killed.

The Doc knew only too well what this new world meant. It meant anyone could be anything they wanted. Larson could have been a policeman, a soldier or even a priest two weeks ago. It didn’t matter what you were, it matters what you are now.

So he became The Doc. He had attended medical school but his deviant interest in children had soon been noticed and he was quietly removed. That was a long time ago when people didn’t make a big fuss about it. Things like that weren’t discussed in the open; they were dealt with quietly to avoid any embarrassment.

The Doc had joined other medical schools but the world of medicine was a small one and it never took long for him to be found out. Being six foot six made you stand out from the crowd and get noticed.

Before computerised record keeping and due to the lack of communication between agencies, the Doc was able to slip into various health care roles. He became a nurse and worked alongside charity organisations, but each time his odd manner was quickly identified and he was removed.

Years went by and slowly he convinced himself that his knowledge and abilities were far beyond what they were. The fact he had attended medical school, albeit for a very short time, served to perpetuate the ideology that he was medically trained.

Certainly field medicine, triage and the basic treatment of wounds and injuries were easy to understand, and with his manner of professional elocution he often passed for being far more trained and skilled than he really was.

While millions died during those first terrible few days of the outbreak, the Doc realised he could now be a Doctor. He was a doctor and he tended to injured, sick and wounded people with the perceived professionalism of a real doctor. His physical size gave him presence. His deep voice gave him a serious countenance. His blue-grey eyes held people transfixed and his explosions of utter fury brought those around him a propensity to walk on eggshells.

The anger hadn’t always been there. He liked to think he was naturally a calm, intelligent, cultured and refined man but the expelling from medical school and the following years of being labelled a paedophile, a child molester, a freak deviant, had slowly brought that anger to the front. In the old world he couldn’t do anything about it and was constantly biting his tongue and suppressing his violent tendencies.

He didn’t have to do that now. So he didn’t. He could be anything he wants to be, so he is a doctor and he can get angry when he wants and after so much death, the action of taking life is effectively meaningless.

Our worlds define us. The things we do, the places we go, the people we meet and our experiences all contribute to who we become. The Doc, to a certain extent, was a result of his own life experiences, all apart from the fascination with children. That had always been there; in fact it had been a part of him for so long he no longer questioned it.

To face your own demons and flaws conflicts with any self-image of being a good person. Often those flaws are ignored and buried deep. He wasn’t a monster, he wasn’t a sick paedophile. Those were labels for other people, not him. He was normal, he just loved children. His self-justification was so strong, he no longer believed there was anything wrong with him.

Re-reading the section on Prions, he notices the frequent mention of proteins and starts thinking of the brightly coloured tubs of whey protein with the pictures of body builders on the front. The internal image blends into him standing in a brightly lit, sterilised lab staring at wriggly things through a microscope, and using a syringe to inject whey protein into petri dishes.

Thirty Nine

‘Now you look a darn sight better you do,’ Meryl grins at Billy exiting the bathroom scrubbed clean and in fresh clothes. He was uncomfortable being naked in front of the big Doctor man but when Meryl told him to strip off it didn’t feel so bad. For a start she didn’t stare at him. She tutted and huffed at the grime on his skin and at the state of his hair, before going away and coming back with clothes.

Chattering away in a constant stream of one-sided conversation, she set about scrubbing him from head to toe. She gives him a towel to dry off with, before telling him to get dressed and come out when he’s finished.

This was only time since being taken that he felt even the slightest bit comfortable. The nagging fear was still there, that awful tight ball in his stomach that made his mouth dry and his hands and legs tremble. But with Meryl there, the fear was a bit less.

Smiling sheepishly, he stands still like an automaton waiting for further instruction, lost in the vastness of the large kitchen.

Cases of tinned food stacked on the floor and through an open door to the pantry Billy can see more foodstuffs jammed onto every shelf.

‘Come on, sit yourself down,’ Meryl instructs kindly, beckoning Billy to a large wooden table with a chair pulled out waiting for him. ‘That’s it, get yourself comfortable. Now drink this first, god knows how long you been out there in the heat, so you have this first.’ Placing a large glass of water in front of him she waits expectantly until he picks it up to take the first sip. ‘Get it down Billy,’ she says as she bustles off, clanging about with a constant stream of chatter.

‘Well so we got another mouth to feed have we? Oh yes, more mouths to feed means more work for Meryl but I don’t mind,’ she says throwing a big grin at him. Billy watches the woman moving about. The way everything clangs and bangs is re-assuring, reminding him of his own mother. There is something about the way Meryl dominates the space and moves naturally, like it’s her environment which has been designed especially for her.

Big windows at the back of the room let the beautiful, warm light into the kitchen, and the view of sculpted grounds with large, flat lawns leading to rolling pasture land in the distance is peaceful.

‘You see the river?’ Meryl moves to join him looking out the window, ‘all sparkly and inviting isn’t it,’ she adds before moving off quickly back into her domain.

Billy takes it in, soaking up the wide expanse of water glittering from the suns reflection. It does look inviting.

‘You’ll be down there later no doubt,’ Meryl interrupts his thoughts, ‘having a swim and splashing about. The Doc he likes his children to get outside and have fresh air he does, says it’s good for you and better than all thems computer games you play these days, well I say these days but these days there ain’t no computer games is there? Gone back to the old ways already haven’t we Billy? Healthy food and lots of fresh air eh?’ Well I say healthy food but all we got is tinned food at the moment but plenty of it so no one will be going hungry just yet. We can get some crops planted so’s we got plenty for next year too, the Doc and Larson got it all figured out they have.’

Switching to an internal monologue she realises the situation they’re all in. Vince wasn’t a bad fella, just easily led and too willing to let others do as they wished. Didn’t deserve that though, the Doctor is such a nice man most of the time, apart from what she hears he does with the kids and them temper tantrums he has, well that’s what he calls them anyway. More like blind rage if you ask Meryl.

Strange though, not a mark on any of the kids. She washes them regular like, being so young and daft half of ‘em don’t know how to wash properly, so she supervises often and it gives her a chance to give them the once over. No bruises or marks anywhere. So whatever the Doc is doing with ‘em is gentle enough. God almighty! If she knew two weeks ago that some filthy pervert was doing something bad to kiddies she’d be straight on the phone to the police but there ain’t no police now. Just what they got here and these kids are being well fed and got a safe bed at night. They ain't being physically harmed from what she can see and those things don’t know they’re here either. Hell, she hasn’t seen any of the walking zombie lot since she got here. There are plenty of tough men with guns to protect them all so she keeps working. She feeds, cleans and deals with any number of issues within the house and the rest just has to be ignored ‘cause there ain’t anything she could do about it anyway.

Her aim is too not so much smooth over the cracks, as to take a huge trowel and smother the gaping holes with as much cement as possible. The children are shell-shocked and despite the natural resilience of the young, they’ve all seen far too many horrors to be anywhere near normal yet. That’ll take a long time so for now they just got to get through each day.

Glancing back at young Billy, she feels a pull on her heartstrings. So young and tiny, staring about with wide eyes at everything. He looks to be the same age as her little one was before, well, before all this happened. God knows what he’s been through and then having to do whatever the Doc does with ‘em. Well she can’t help that but she can try and put a smile there now.

At the sink, she wets a cloth to wipe her face; the heat is incredible and so close. Muggy as you like. Everyone is listless and getting tired too, snapping at each other and no wonder the Doc keeps losing his mind.

It’s troubling times that’s for sure, so she does what she can to help, smiling and fussing over the children.

‘There you go, ain’t nothing special but it’s food and it’ll fill your belly up,’ placing the plate down she watches for his reaction. When it doesn't come she reminds herself he’s too young to notice the significance of having a sandwich to eat. Proper bread sandwich too. The adults notice it all right and love it when she makes fresh bread, course it isn’t anywhere near like the supermarkets had it. Bit too doughy and heavy but its bread all the same, and they soon wolf it down alright.

Billy tucks in. He doesn't feel the slightest bit hungry but he knows his manners and he knows Meryl wants him to eat so he does. Picking up the sandwich he takes the first bite. The bread is tough and chewy but the jam inside is sweet and bursting with flavour.

After days of eating tinned and junk food, his appetite soon comes back. Biting and chewing as he gets strawberry jam smeared round his mouth.

Sitting down with a steaming mug of black tea Meryl watches him eat, grinning at the obvious pleasure he’s getting from it.

‘Good boy,’ she nods at the empty plate, ‘now you can have a treat but don’t be expecting them all the time ‘cause I don’t give ‘em out willy nilly.’ She pulls a packet of crisps from the large pocket on her apron. Billy doesn't want to tell her he doesn't want crisps. He’s eaten more bags of potato chips in the last two weeks than ever before, but Billy knows his manners, so he dutifully eats them up, munching slowly through the packet while staring at the ruddy faced woman.

‘Will Lilly come here?’ He asks speaking for the first time. Meryl freezes for a split second, the grin remaining but the happiness sliding off her face. She hates this bit; when they ask about their families. She doesn't know who Lilly is and she doesn't want to know. Knowing just makes it harder to deal with.

‘We’re very lucky to be here Billy,’ she says in a kind tone, ‘very lucky and we all lost our families so we’re all the same now. No more about the past, we gotta look to the future so eat thems crisps up then you can go play with the other children.’

Billy nods. He doesn't feel very lucky right now, in fact he feels very unlucky but Lilly will come. His young mind can’t quite grasp what happened during the night, but he does know Lilly wasn’t there and she didn’t get hurt so he knows she will come. She has to, she’s his big sister and that’s what big sisters do.

Forty

‘Probably about a mile now,’ Nick judges the distance on the map then glances up to view the surrounding countryside, ‘we should leave the van here and go on foot.’

‘Okay.’

‘There’s a hill here, see the lines get closer together? We should aim for that so we can look down and maybe get a view of the house before we decide anything.’

‘Got it,’ she nods quickly, ‘we’ll need water in this heat.’

Grabbing bottles from the back, they empty an old rucksack found in the front cab before filling it with fluids and snack bars. With the van parked at the end of an old track, they lock up and set off, Nick checking the map positions before folding it away to light a cigarette, figuring this might be the last chance for a smoke for a while.

‘You okay?’ He asks mildly.

She nods, scanning the area ahead as they climb a fence into a wide field. Sticking to the hedgerow, they walk side by side over the hard sun baked earth.

Shock threatened to pull her under, but with Billy at risk there is no choice but to swallow it down. What happened to Todd plays over and over in her mind, blending with images of Samantha on the ground with that animal between her legs, Norman bleeding, and seeing her father blown to bits. All of it whirling and blundering through her head but only serving to strengthen her resolve.

Those first hand experiences of how quickly death can come increases the pressure to find Billy and make him safe.

Nick was so quick, he didn’t hesitate and knew exactly what he was doing. If she is going to survive and protect her brother then she has to very quickly become more like him; ruthless and hard.

Only that isn’t everything he is. The kindness and compassion of the young man pours off him, the easy way he blushes, swears, laughs and constantly checking she’s okay.

‘Thank you again,’ she gives voice to her thoughts.

‘You don’t have to keep saying it,’ Nick replies. His thoughts were with his team, wondering where they were and what they were doing. Being separated like this was horrible and above else, he wishes Mr Howie was here to deal with this. Clarence, Dave, Lani and the lads, even the dog. Together they would get this sorted quickly. He still has that strange sense of knowing that they are all ok, but he wishes they were here by his side.

Swigging from a bottle of water, Nick glances up into the blue sky, hazy with an incredible sense of oppressive heat. Even the plants and branches wilt from the absurdly high temperatures. The sun scorches exposed skin but with very little choice they have to keep moving.

Rolling pastures of green fields become desert like, with heat shimmers and a feeling of being baked in an oven.

The land starts to rise, gently at first but with increasingly more hostile terrain of devoted fields and furrowed lanes. Each step becomes an ankle twisting hazard and although only a mile has to be walked, it feels far greater.

Lapsing into silence, they aim for a thicket of trees at the crest of the hill, with a deep longing to be amongst the shaded copse and out of the blistering sun. When they reach it, both are bathed in sweat with clothes clinging to bodies and hair lankly plastered across their foreheads. The very air seems too thick to breathe so they slump down amongst the fauna, trying to catch their breath.

Water is poured over heads and down throats, sweat rinsed off but little comfort does it give. Nodding at each other they push off, threading through the dense foliage to reach the edge of a sweeping, shallow valley. There in the distance, nestles what can only be Chapsworth House. A huge sprawling mansion surrounded by manicured gardens. At the rear of the property, beyond the rear lawns lies a glittering river meandering through the scene.

A long driveway stretches from the front of the house towards a high wall and what looks like a gated entrance. They are too far away to be able to see any detail, but can see the basic layout.

Movement at the gate, a vehicle approaches. Another van like they type they took in the town. The van pauses as tiny figures to move around it. When it moves off, Nick and Lilly track the movement as it heads slowly down the long driveway stopping at the front.

Another small figure exits the house and stands near the front of the vehicle. Nick imagines a conversation taking place. The figure walks off and the van moves round the side of the house stopping at a set of doors.

Two people get out the van, open the rear doors and start unloading items which are carried into the house and out of view.

Nick settles low and lets his eyes move gently over the vista before him. The figures at the gates must be guards and there must be others at the front of the house. Scanning the grounds he spots another two figures strolling from the river towards the house. They stop in the middle of the grounds and Nick watches as a large group come into view from the back of the house heading towards the river.

Children, lots of children with two or three larger figures which must be adults. The group moves towards the two guards and stop, words must be exchanged before they all head off, crossing the grounds before stopping just short of the water.

The black insect like figures seem to wait with small movements indicating something is happening within the group. After a few minutes a few start to filter off, crossing the last bit of land before disappearing out of sight.

With the glittering reflection from the surface of the water, neither Nick or Lilly can make out the figures swimming but the action is obvious. Movement from the figures as they move in and out of the water. Fast movement of children running, chasing each other. In and out of the river they go. The adults with them stand close by and appear ready to react.

This doesn't look right. The house is beautiful, the grounds are large and well cared for. It looks serene and nice and with the children playing in the river it wasn’t anything like either of them were expecting.

Chain gangs or something, sexualised predators intent on deviant activities maybe, but this? Children swimming under the watchful eyes of adults, and judging by the running motions they are having fun too. Nick’s mind works to fill in the blanks and he can almost imagine the children laughter, calling out as they splash and run. The adults standing close, smoking cigarettes while chatting amiably.

The two men from the van have stopped unloading and are standing talking to a larger figure. Things are stacked on the ground next to them which can only be the items taken from the vehicle. The larger person seems animated, waving their arms about as they talk. Within a couple of minutes the larger figure disappears then comes back out carrying something. Heading away from the house, the person stops and starts bending over then standing back up.

‘Putting washing out,’ Lilly mutters at seeing light coloured things being fastened to what must be a rope or wire.

The two men from the van walk over to the larger person, one of them stands still while the other helps hanging the clothes up.

‘Your brother must be with that lot,’ Nick says quietly.

‘He loves swimming but this…this is…’

‘Not what you were expecting? Nah, me neither. Looks nice as fuck down there like proper posh. I bet you had a house like that.’

‘No!’ Lilly exclaims.

‘Yeah with horses and Llamas.’

‘Llamas?’

‘Don’t posh people have Llamas?’

‘No Nick, they don’t and I’m not posh.’

‘You talk posh.’

‘My dad was bankrupt and we lived in a little flat near the town centre.’

‘Oh shit, sorry Lilly.’

‘You didn’t know.’

‘But you still sound posh.’

‘Yes okay Nicholas.’

‘Fuck, don’t call me Nicholas.’

‘Stop saying I’m posh then.’

‘Nope.’

‘Okay Nicholas.’

‘Okay Lilly…er…Lillyander.’

‘What? You made that up! That’s not even a name.’

‘It is…Lillyander.’

‘Whatever Nicholas. Now would you mind awfully if we focussed on rescuing my brother.’

‘Awfully?’

‘I said that on purpose.’

It helps making mindless, stupid jokes that cost nothing. It doesn't take the pain or fear away but it helps to cope, giving a façade of being okay.

‘I think that side entrance looks the best bet,’ Nick says seriously, ‘it looked like those men just walked in, they didn’t stop to wait for someone to open up.’

‘Agreed,’ Lilly nods, ‘do we wait for night time or…?’

Nick tracks back to the area of the main gate and the figures moving around it. Counting four of them he looks back at the river, there were two people there first then two or three adults came out with the children so that makes about five. Nine people split between the gate and the rear and if they can afford to have that many just on guard then they must have a whole lot more inside.

The two men finish unloading the van and one goes into the house while the other gets back into the vehicle, slowly turning round to drive towards the front of the house then straight across to the far side and out of view.

‘Another one,’ Lilly nudges his arm pointing to the gate. A big, blue van is going through what looks like the same procedure as before. There is some movement at the gate then the van goes down the drive. The figure comes out the house, has a chat then round to the side to unload. Nick nods, he was right. One of the figures went straight in so that door can’t be locked. More figures come out this time to help unload. One of them stands at the back of the van handing items over to be carried inside.

‘Too many,’ he mutters quietly. Turning his head he casts a sad look at Lilly, ‘there’s too many for just two of us.’

‘We can wait for night and try sneaking in.’

‘No way,’ Nick shakes his head gently, ‘they’ll see us way before we get inside the house. Look at how many men they have. Four or five on that front gate, more out the back with the children and every van looks like it has two people in it, plus we don’t know how many vans are parked round the other side. That house could be full of men like those back in that town.’

‘I’m not leaving Billy here,’ Lilly hisses.

‘We’ve got to be smart here,’ Nick explains, ‘if we go down there now we’ll be caught. Fact. No way round it. That bloke who took Billy saw me standing over his mate, so I’ll probably be recognised and even if they don’t know you, there’s no fucking way you can go down there.’

‘Why not?’

‘What you gonna do? Just walk in and ask for your brother back? Lilly, I don’t mean this in a rude way but like er…well you’re fucking stunning, really beautiful…they’ll take one look at you and…’

‘Norman,’ Lilly sags.

‘If that was the bloke that tried it on last night then yeah, it’ll be like that but probably worse.’

‘What do we do? We can’t just leave him.’

‘If they took Billy from you like that, then all those kids would have been taken from people. This isn’t just about Billy, this is about all those kids. We can’t leave any of them there but then we,’ he motions between them, ‘can’t do fuck all with just two of us.’

‘I can’t….’ Lilly starts to say.

Cutting her off quickly, Nick pushes on, ‘Look though, they’re swimming,’ Nick points down the hill, ‘they ain’t been fucking tortured or anything right now, they’re running about and playing which means they’re fine.’

‘For now.’

‘Yeah I know but Billy only just got here but some of those kids might have been here a while and they’re still running about and swimming. Those vans are going into the towns to bring food back so they got loads to eat. I get it Lilly, really I do. We can’t just leave them there without knowing they’re okay but we cannot fucking go down there with just two of us. Fuck, no we could but we’d probably get killed and then Billy is fucked left right and centre. Mr Howie doesn't know where I am so he can’t come rescuing us. We gotta go down to the fort and find the others, then we come back with my team and deal with this properly.’

‘What if they don’t want to come back,’ Lilly asks with a look of pure fear on her face.

‘They will,’ Nick urges.

‘They might not, they might see it as someone else’s problem.’

‘No, not a chance,’ Nick replies firmly.

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘Cause I been with them since this started,’ Nick says with an earnest expression, ‘I know what they’re like. A few days ago we were walking through this fucking awful shitty council estate right. It’s night and we’ve been all over the place doing weird stuff but anyway, as we go along we hear a fucking shit loads of zombies attacking this place in the middle. Now we could have just crept away, they didn’t see us and we could easily have slipped past them and been done but we didn’t. Mr Howie saw we had a chance to cut them down so we went for it. Last night we were out fighting for hours, and we left others in that car park we went to earlier. We were off down the road in the Saxon and could see there were fucking thousands of them trying to get into that car park. Again we could have fucked off and gone somewhere else but Mr Howie, well he got that Saxon right through ‘em so we could get to the top and help the others. See what I’m saying? There’s no way he’ll leave these kids here.’

‘I can’t Nick,’ Lilly says with a pleading look, her eyes brimming with tears, ‘I can’t just leave him.’

‘We don’t have a choice.’

‘No, I’m not going anywhere without Billy.’

‘Lilly, please listen to me. There are too many men down there, you’ve already seen what they did to your father and that girl…’

‘Sam.’

‘Yes her, sorry I couldn’t remember her name. If we get caught, which we will, there will be nobody left to come and help do you understand that?’ Turning back to stare down the hill he looks between the gate and the river, ‘and how the hell are we going to get all those children out? We can’t just take Billy and leave them.’

‘Do you promise?’ Lilly implores him, begging with her eyes for re-assurance that this isn’t it, that they’re not just walking away.

Shifting position Nick puts his hand over hers, squeezing softly, ‘I swear Lilly, I totally fucking swear.’

‘You keep on swearing,’ she smiles sadly as a single tear rolls down her cheek.

‘Sorry,’ he flashes a quick grin, ‘we will come back, even if we don’t find the others, no matter what happens I swear I will come back and get your brother.’

‘Okay,’ she whispers seeing the honest intent in his eyes.

‘They’re okay,’ Nick whispers, ‘they’re splashing about and having fun, fuck I wish I was down there cooling off in the water.’

‘It is rather hot,’ she concedes.

‘Rather hot, oh I say, it is rather warm don’t you know,’ Nick puts on his poshest voice in an attempt to gain a smile.

‘Very good,’ Lilly nods primly, ‘Nick, thank-you and I do believe you I do, but I’m so scared.’

‘Good,’ Nick nods, ‘fear keeps you alive.’

‘Is that another of that Dave’s sayings?’

‘No,’ Nick grins, ‘I heard that one on telly. Dave would say Nicholas stop swearing and put that cigarette out and is your kit cleaned and have you shaved today?’

‘Does he really sound like that?’

‘No, Dave’s fucking great.’ Snaking back they gain the tree line and start heading away from the valley, an awful sadness steals through Lilly’s heart.

‘Lilly and Billy eh?’ Nick asks as they step free of the shade into the blistering heat once more.

‘Yeah I know, believe it or not my parents never thought about it. They always wanted him to be called William.’

‘Oh I get it,’ Nick nods.

‘He was William for years then went to school on his first day and the teacher called him Billy. Then all his classmates called him Billy and it just stuck.’

‘Hmmm, I was like that too.’

‘Oh? How so? What was your nickname?’

‘Wanker,’ Nick says seriously.

‘Really?’ Lilly stares in horror.

‘Nah, not really,’ Nick grins, ‘it was thicko when I was younger because I couldn’t read or write then it just got worse as I got older as I still couldn’t read or write and now…ha! I still can’t read or write and here I am, running around the countryside.’

‘With a beautiful girl,’ Lilly laughs.

‘Alright big head,’ Nick chuckles.

‘No, you said it a minute ago…Look Lilly, you’s like crumpet love,’ she deepens her voice trying to make jokes as a way of masking the desperation.

‘I never said that,’ Nick laughs easily.

‘True, you said you’s fucking stunning you are.’

‘I don’t speak like that, I don’t sound like you but I ain't that bad.’

‘I am only joking Nicholas.’

‘Thank you Lillyander.’

Nick can sense the despair coming from the girl and works to keep the chat light. Cookey and Lani are good at making conversation to put people at ease. Mr Howie always seems to know what to do. If the team were together now a plan would have been made within five minutes. The boss would have stared down at the house with those brooding eyes, everyone would say they were up for it, and then with a few suggestions from Clarence and Dave and they’d be off.

‘At least we’re going downhill this time,’ he comments quietly.

‘True,’ she replies. Glancing over, she can see the kindness in the young man as he hovers nearby ready to offer a helping hand on the uneven ground. Everything he said made sense and she works hard not to snap at him. He’s right, if they mess it up then Billy really is alone. It might take longer this way but they stand a better chance of succeeding.

What if they don’t come back though? What if this Mr Howie says it isn’t their problem or they have other things to do? Will Nick still come back or stay with them? He’s promised now but that could change for any reason.

Fretful and worried she thinks frantically, tiredness sapping at her heavy legs as the images of the last day get stuck on replay in her mind. Norman pawing at her, the screams and seeing Sam being raped, her father being killed then following the boys back to the van. Those two men in the street then trying to fight Nick. Todd being bitten and turning. It goes round and round, a never ending video of lust and violence. Lust from Norman, lust from that rapist and the violence of everything else. That’s all this world is now; just sex and violence. Men want sex so they take it. Men want food so they take it. Not all men are like that, Nick hasn’t once glanced at her in that way she has become so familiar with, he hasn’t made any suggestive comments either, well other than saying she was beautiful.

He does think she’s beautiful then, and he said stunning too which is a very high compliment. So he’s not gay but just very polite and well mannered. Handsome too and he’s got a lovely backside.

That’s it. There’s the hook to make sure he will come back. Make it so he wants to come back, give him something to come back for.

She’s kissed boys and fumbled around a bit but that’s as far as it’s ever gone. Naturally at fifteen years old she knows the birds and the bees, what sex is and well, pretty much everything to do with it, apart from actually doing it.

How would she start? Now or later? Say something or do something? What if he rejects her? No, he pretty much blushes every time she looks at him and he did say she was beautiful and stunning.

It’s got to be now. If she waits she’ll overthink it and never be able to do it. He’s very handsome and it’s not like it would be rape or anything, not if I’m giving it to him. It’s not how I imagined the first time would be but then it could also be far worse. He’s kind and caring and I have to make sure he’ll come back.

‘Nick,’ she blurts out. He snaps to face her, alarmed at the tone in her voice.

‘What?’ He asks urgently. Seeing the strange look on her face he steps closer, staring with concern.

‘Er…’ She stammers, her heart hammering like crazy. She fidgets for a second and almost backs out but no, he has to come back, he has to want to come back.

‘What the fuck…’ Nick gasps as Lilly launches herself at him. Clumsily planting her lips on his, she pushes against his body.

Nick freezes. Things like this don’t happen. Zombies yeah, the apocalypse definitely, all of that is fine but beautiful women don’t just throw themselves at you in the middle of fields.

She pushes harder, wrapping her arms round his waist to pull him in tight. ‘Kiss me,’ she murmurs but the words don’t sound right, not like when Nick has kissed women before and sensed them getting turned on.

Gently he pulls away and despite the bizarre circumstances he finds his heart beating strong and hard, his face flushed as she looks up and locks those blue eyes on him. Her lips, as clumsy as they were, were soft and yielding.

‘What?’ She asks with a worried look, ‘don’t you like me?’

‘Yeah, yeah course but…what you doing?’

‘I want you,’ she blurts, ‘I really want you.’

‘Want me? What now? Like here?’

‘Yes,’ she nods remembering that women who want to look seductive bite their bottom lip so she tries to nibble on it suggestively, ‘right here.’

‘Seriously?’ Nick stares in wonder at the girl as she chews on her lip. She looks amazing with the way her blond hair falls round her shoulders, smooth skin and those eyes which bore into him, causing his breath to catch.

‘Come here,’ she whispers.

‘Lilly, this is…well…what the fuck!?’

‘Come on Nick, I really want you…’

‘What? Lilly, I…fuck me what’s going on?’

‘Nothing, just all this heat and…and you’re so strong and handsome and…I don’t know, I just really want to do it.’

‘It?’

‘Yes, sex I want to do sex with…I mean I want to have sex with you.’

‘What?’ Nick keeps repeating, his mind reeling.

‘You said I’m beautiful,’ she says in a quiet voice, stepping towards him.

‘You are, I mean yeah, like you really fucking are,’ Nick nods willing himself to move back but being unable to do anything as she steps in close, ‘but…’

‘But what?’ She asks trying to make her voice light. She can feel her legs trembling and her hands shaking, so she moves in quick again to plant her lips on his once more.

Nick wills and wills himself to break away but it feels so nice. So soft and warm. He doesn't grab or do anything but just stands there and lets her kiss him. Her lips stay still, planted on his as though waiting for him to do something.

Fear of rejection keeps her locked on, a desperate worry that he’ll get back to the fort and stay there with his team and she’ll be left alone to rescue Billy. Terrified and feeling completely helpless, something happens. He doesn't grab at her, he doesn't grope or do anything. He doesn't even really respond. But something changes.

His body is close, so warm and masculine, capable and ready for anything. He moves, just a tiny shift, but she finds herself shifting too. He moves again, a slight tremble that she detects through his lips then slowly, as gentle as a feather brushing against her skin, his lips move as he starts to kiss her back.

Her heart that was racing in fear a second ago, now races from a different reaction. A closeness of two people alone and scared, both of them young and trapped in horrors that no person should ever go through. Emotions start pulsing through them. Terror, then adrenalin, exhaustion and heat.

Contact. That’s all it is. Just the act of two people putting their lips together but it means so much more. Fleeting and random and done for every wrong reason, but all of those wrong reasons blend to become the right action. He kisses her slowly and she kisses him back. Not from self-imposed duress, not because of wanting to lure him into coming back, not because of a need to give her body to him so he wants it again but for another reason. She kisses him because it feels right, because she wants to kiss him.

He feels the change. The awkward force that shocked him is suddenly gone. Nick knows he’s been exceptionally lucky to be with Mr Howie and the others and that if it wasn’t for them he’d probably be dead somewhere. This contact, this kiss, tells him why they fight. They fight because life is for living, because the race has to prevail and keep going.

He doesn't know when the shotgun and axe fall from his hands but he knows when her fingers entwine in his. Electricity pulses through him and all from a slow, gentle loving kiss.

Lilly feels the strength in his warm hands, the long fingers that squeeze with a gentle firmness. He could take her right now. He is strong enough to do what he wants, but he restrains himself with a gentleness that sends her heart soaring.

When the kiss ends they stand still, eyes closed and lost in a feeling of pleasure that has become so rare in this new world.

Reality seeps back in as they become aware of the heat, of the uneven ground beneath them, of where they are.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispers.

‘Why?’ Nick croaks, his voice low and husky.

‘I…I…nothing,’ she turns away with such a look of sadness it propels Nick to react, reaching out to gently take her wrist.

‘What? What is it? Where did that come from?’

‘I don’t know,’ she looks up at him then quickly away, ‘I’m scared Nick, scared that you won’t come back with me so I thought I would…let you have sex with me. ‘Her voice tails off, squeezing her eyes closed from shame. ‘You can if you want,’ she blinks up at him again, ‘I don’t mind, really I want to…’

‘Lilly,’ he says softly, a sad smile forms on his lips.

‘You can have sex with me now and later when you come back, or whenever you want,’ she rushes on, ‘I don’t mind, really Nick I…’

‘Stop,’ Nick shakes his head as he stares at the girl, ‘I don’t…’ the smile grows until he can’t stop himself from laughing softly, ‘shit Lilly, for a second I thought you liked me. Fucking hell,’ he groans rubbing his forehead before reaching down to collect the weapons, ‘shit a brick…’ he groans again, still shaking his head.

‘I do like you,’ Lilly blurts.

‘Look,’ he says, ‘I gave you my word that I’ll come back and I meant it, even if you run off now and I never see you again I will be coming back with Mr Howie and my team to see what’s going on down there. Fucking hell Lilly,’ he laughs again starting to walk off.

‘Nick,’ she rushes after him, ‘I didn’t mean I didn’t like you…I do like you but I was…’

‘Scared, yeah you said. Fucking hell, well for what it’s worth Lilly that was a fucking amazing kiss and you are stunning but shit, well out of my league but thank-you,’

‘Thank-you?’ She stumbles after him.

‘Yeah, thank-you. You kissed me for all the wrong reasons but shit, it was still lovely and I ain’t never been kissed by anyone as pretty as you.’

‘Nick please just listen…’

‘Have sex?’ Nick says to himself, ‘what would you have done if I went for it?’

‘I said you can have it,’ she mutters.

‘Have it?’ He turns with a hard look, ‘it isn’t something that should be fucking given like that. I don’t need to have sex with you and you don’t need to give me anything to make sure I come back.’

The darkness of the man flashes across his face, a fleeting glimpse of a rigid morality that despite the temptation, still holds true and strong.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she walks after him feeling completely ashamed of herself. She never meant to humiliate him or do anything to hurt him. The kiss was amazing, it was more than amazing, but to say that now will make it seem like more lies on top of lies.

‘Don’t worry,’ he says kindly, all trace of the anger gone, ‘you’re worried about your brother.’

‘Yes I was but…I liked it too.’

‘Okay Lilly, look I said I’ll come back so you don’t have to say…’

‘I mean it Nick,’ she gasps, ‘I really mean it.’ But it does come out wrong and it sounds false now.

‘What a fucking day,’ Nick sighs. That was the best kiss he has ever had. The nicest, the softest, the most meaningful kiss he was ever likely to have. Not cheap and horny but deep and emotional, touching him within his heart. She only did it for her brother, only so he’d come back. Shit! The most beautiful girl he has ever seen kisses him and offers him sex right here. Of all the things that could happen, of course she didn’t really mean it. You thick fucker, thinking that someone like that would want to kiss you.

He stops dead, something not right. Movement ahead, a sound maybe.

‘Nick?’

‘Sssshhh,’ pushing his fingers to his lips he strains to listen. Not far from the van now, just beyond that hedge. Voices there, someone has found it.

Spinning round he scans the area but there is nowhere to go. If they look over the gate they’ll see them both and the field is too big to cross, they’ll never make it back to the wooded copse.

Grabbing Lilly he pulls her down into the base of the hedge, covering her mouth with his hand. Male voices, at least two people. Now a third. A radio crackles with static. They’ve got radio contact with the house. With the shotgun and pistol they could shoot their way out but the people at the house will know something is happening.

‘Listen,’ he presses his mouth close to her ear, ‘they’ve found the van and they’re going to find us. Take this,’ he thrusts his axe into her hands, ‘go south and find the fort, find Mr Howie or Dave or Maddox, or a woman called Paula and tell them what happened. Ssshhh, just listen…you tell Mr Howie I told you about how I operated Tower Bridge and made the zombies fall off, you tell them I told you I set fire to the ferry coming back from the Isle of Wight…you tell them that and show them my axe…’

‘What are you doing?’ She pulls his hand from her mouth whispering back at him.

‘I’m going to go out there. Stay here and stay down. Wait for us to go then get away…get away as quickly as possible but stay away from this road for a while. Lilly just listen,’ he cuts her protests off, ‘we don’t have a choice okay? Stay here and for fucks sake don’t make a sound.’

Grabbing a water bottle he twists the lid off, before pouring a tiny drop down the crotch of his trousers.

‘Nick please,’ she whispers, ‘they might go away.’

‘Too late, they’ve seen the van and they’ll start searching any minute. I’ll go out and you get to the fort. Find a car and don’t stop for anyone. Kill anything that comes anywhere near you, got it?’

She nods, terrified and rooted to the spot.

He starts to move then drops back down. ‘That kiss was amazing,’ he grins, ‘really, you are so beautiful… so just in case,’ he darts in and plants a quick kiss on her lips, ‘sorry but you know…like I said, it was fucking amazing.’

‘Nick don’t go,’ she tries to grab his wrist but he’s already up and moving off, ‘I liked it, I really did.’

‘Really?’ He looks back, ‘you mean that?’

‘Honestly, really I did.’

‘Fucking awesome,’ he grins, ‘made my day that has. Now just stay quiet…’ He walks out from the hedge a few feet, going further into the field, ‘oh bollocks,’ he calls out in a loud voice, ‘fucking hell.’

‘Who’s that?’ A deep male voice calls out.

‘Eh?’ Who’s that?’ Nick shouts back.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ A man appears at the gate holding a shotgun aimed at Nick pretending to wipe at the wet stain on his crotch like he just took a piss. A second man comes into view as Nick grins at them both before walking towards them. Still holding the shotgun but one handed so he can’t be seen as a threat.

Lilly lies flat, wriggling into the base of the hedge she watches Nick walk towards the gate.

‘Who the fuck are you I might ask,’ Nick shouts back but in a friendly tone, ‘you trying to nick my van?’

‘Your van is it?’ The first man replies instantly.

‘Is now,’ Nick responds, ‘found it in a town a few miles away, some bloke just got bit…he said he was going to Chapswhich House or something…got shit loads of food in the back of it, the van I mean…figured I’d try and find it.’

‘That right is it nipper?’ The man asks, ‘what was his name then?’

‘How the fuck would I know that?’ Nick shakes his head, ‘he just got bit and it was too late for fucking introductions. Stocky bloke, brown hair and loads of tattoo’s, had swallows tattooed on his hands.’

‘Terry,’ the second man says with a glance to the first man.

‘Must be, that’s their van,’ the first man replies, ‘was there another bloke with him?’

‘Didn’t see anyone, you know him then? This fella that got bit?’

‘Yeah sounds like Terry, he got them tattoos ‘cept he had another bloke with him, John.’

‘Nah,’ Nick replies easily, ‘maybe he got bit somewhere else or something, just the bloke with that tatt’s is all I saw…what’s this Chapstick house then?’

‘Chapsworth House,’ the first man says.

‘Yeah that’s it, that’s what he said, you know it then?’

‘Yeah could say that, you’d better come with us…’

‘Eh? Why you gonna shoot me or something?’ Nick asks, ‘speaking of which, he had this shotgun that Terry fella.’

‘Let’s see,’ the man holds his hand out.

‘Fuck off!’ Nick replies quickly, ‘you two got guns so why would I hand mine over?’

‘Fair point,’ the second man says.

‘Alright, just hold it up so we can see it…yeah that’s Terry’s alright…got his initials on the stock see.’

‘Oh yeah, didn’t see them before,’ Nick says.

‘Right, well you gotta come with us anyway. We’re from Chapsworth House.’

‘Are you?’ Nick exclaims, ‘that Terry bloke said I should go there, something about seeing a doctor, you need more blokes?’

‘What happened to him?’

‘What Terry? Er…well don’t get shitty but you know…he fucking turned didn’t he so I er…you know.’

‘Shot him?’

‘Yeah, sorry if he was like, your mate or something.’

‘Forget it,’ the first man shrugs, ‘shit happens nowadays.’

‘Yeah ain't that right,’ Nick nods in agreement, ‘ere, you got a light? Lost mine, you want a smoke?’

Ice broken, he climbs over the gate taking the two men safely away from seeing Lilly. He was right too, a third man stands back from the hedge keeping watch quietly while holding a rifle.

‘Alright mate,’ Nick nods in greeting.

‘What you doing over there?’ The third man asks.

‘Needed a piss,’ Nick laughs pointing at the stain on his crotch, ‘and I was fucking lost too, map says that house is round here somewhere but fucked if I could find it.’

The third man stares at the dark stain then at Nick for a few seconds, seemingly satisfied he nods at the other two.

‘Take him with you; I’ll bring Terry’s van.’

***

Her head spins and there’s an icy grip on her stomach. This is the second time within a few hours she’s hidden in undergrowth listening, but at least this time she can hear Nick talking to them. He sounds natural too, and judging by their tone of voice getting easier, she suspects they believe him.

It happened so fast and again he acted on instinct, knowing exactly what to do and saving her again. Sacrificing himself so she can get away. He could have sent her out or both of them, he could have chosen to fight or try and kill them but he knew this was the best option.

Waiting silently she listens to the doors slamming on vehicles, an engine starts, then another one and within a minute both of them have driven away leaving her in the silence of the field.

At the gate, she peers round in case there’s a trap or anyone left behind. No one here so she clambers over then remembers what Nick said about avoiding the road. Back in the field, she starts making her way back down the hill, steady at first but her speed increases to a gentle jog. The axe is surprisingly heavy but comforting at the same time. She is glad to have something of his still retained in her possession.

The exhaustion is terrible, sapping her energy to an all-time low. Legs feel heavy and unresponsive but with no other choice she wills herself to keep going. Step after step, the sun glaring down makes her feel sick. Water, keep drinking water and she sips frequently.

Through fields and hedgerows, brambles and navigating thickets of trees she runs. The ground hard and unyielding, unforgiving on her hot tired feet.

Can’t stop, can’t rest. Got to find a car and find the fort. Find Mr Howie and get them back here.

How can everything go so wrong so quickly? In the space of a day she’s seen her friend being raped and her father being killed. Then Todd was bitten and died slowly, only to come back as one of them.

The pressure is incredible, a panicked urge to do something, an action must be taken now. She wants to find a hole, crawl in and sleep for days and weeks until this is all over but that can’t happen.

Bite the shock down and keep going. Only the strength of her will pushes on her on now. With the initial adrenalin wearing off, the after-effects plummet her down to the depths of despair. A feeling of there being no hope, that Nick was the last chance she had to get her brother. She doesn't know Mr Howie or any of these people, what if they reject her? What if they think she hurt Nick and took his axe?

Mistake compounded by error compounded by fatigue, thoughts whirl and spin through her mind threatening to pull her to the floor where she can weep and scream at the unfairness of it all. That won’t get Billy back though, it won’t help Nick or anyone.

Onto the road now, easier going and she pushes on. Forcing herself to alternate between jogging and walking. Gasping for air, sweating and feeling sick from the exertion. The road just keeps on, long and twisting so that every hope of reaching a corner to find a house is taken away by the sight of more melting tarmac, more hedges, more fields.

The axe is heavy, the pistol jolts in the holster, irritating her every step. Her clothes, as thin as they are, feel heavy and cling to her frame. Hair soaked, plastered down her face. The water is gone, consumed within the first couple of miles. This is rural England, not the desert. The humidity eats away at the reserves of energy.

Two weeks ago you wouldn’t even think about taking a walk on a hot day like this. Granted, this country hasn’t seen heat like this ever before but still. You’d know you can stop, call someone from your mobile, go to a café or shop. Get a bus or sit in the shade to cool down. There would be a cold shower later and some ice cream. Same place, same weather but everything is dangerous now. The risk of exposure is serious, the risk of dehydration is real. There won’t be an ambulance coming to administer fluids as they work to reduce the core body temperature.

As exhausted as her body is, her brain is still working to keep her alive. The power lines overhead are a signal that houses must be close. The information is taken in, processed, labelled and sent to the front of her mind where it screams and stamps its feet until noticed.

When it does register she finds that extra speed, maintaining the jog now until the first property comes into view. The end wall of a house, then another. A whole row of houses, country cottages all picturesque and pretty.

Think Lilly, you need a car that is easy to drive and make sure it has fuel. The Landrover was too old and difficult, the gears were impossible.

A BMW, nice and new. Sleek and powerful looking, it sits outside one of the cottages in the middle. Pistol out she stalks towards it. Staring up at the windows of the houses she passes.

All of them have been entered, the doors a mixture of smashed in completely and just standing ajar like they’ve been left open by the owners. No time to pause and listen, move fast and keep going.

Up the path and straight into the house. Pistol up, aimed and ready to be fired. Through the hallway she goes, checking the small table for the vehicle keys. Finding nothing she heads into the kitchen, large and spacious like something from a country magazine with a big pine table in the middle.

Papers piled up on the table next to an open laptop, a large button calculator amongst pens and notepads. She recognises the type of letters instantly from the big red words at the top of each page. Debt letters, demands for payments. The image of the occupier sat there on the night it happened, wading through bills and letters as they struggled to work it all out.

The futility of it; that none of it mattered strikes her hard. Watching her father go through a nervous breakdown because of the financial pressure heaped on him.

At the sink she twists the tap on, letting the water run while she mooches through the drawers and cupboards searching for the keys.

Amongst the papers on the table she finds them. A single black key with a leather fob attached and the BMW symbol etched on.

Pushing her head under the tap she lets the cool water cascade down her neck, soaking into her hair before rubbing the sweat from her face. A long drink and she re-fills the water bottle before heading outside.

D. R. 1. 2. S. She stares at the automatic gear stick for a few seconds. R must be reverse. One and Two must be the first gears. What do D and S mean? Turning the key she checks the display, noting the tank is over half full.

Leather interior and the black coloured car is incredibly hot inside, almost shocking the very air from her lungs.

A button on the side of the gear stick, she presses it in but the thing won’t move. She yanks harder but still it won’t budge. Frustration comes to the fore quickly, and she stamps down as she heaves at the stick. Her foot hits the brake which releases the safety catch, the gear stick yanks down the far end, slotting into R. Handbrake off and she pushes her foot on the accelerator. The Landrover was diesel and slow to respond. This is a petrol driven BMW and is not slow to respond. The engine engages at the slightest touch sending the car veering backwards with shocking speed. In panic she pushes her foot down harder, the engine roars from the pressure applied as the vehicle surges backwards into the road, across the road, off the road and slamming into the wooden five bar gate opposite.

Airbags burst, deploying instantly from the sensors rigged throughout the vehicle. The engine management system cuts out, detecting an airbag deployment it will now not re-start until a full diagnostic check has been completed.

Useless. Modern and useless. She gets out slamming the door shut before running towards the next cottage with a vehicle outside. This one also modern but with normal gears. The keys are found, the action repeated as she checks the fuel. Carefully this time she selects reverse and applies gentle pressure while releasing the handbrake. The car backs out slowly as she negotiates the steering wheel.

Which way is south? Damn it! The map is in the van. Wait, she came from that direction and they were heading south on their way to Chapsworth House so yes, right. If she goes away from the direction she came that should be south.

Windows down, air flow on full and she pulls away. A fifteen year old girl forcing herself to keep the speed down for fear of having an accident.

Forty One

‘Man, listen to the D-man Shaunie, he like says it how it is man.’

‘Fuck me, I’m going to kill him…I really am going to kill him,’ Shaun glares at Derek with wide angry eyes.

‘Ginge, I’d be quiet for a bit mate,’ Derek says trying to placate their angry leader.

‘Don’t take it out on him,’ the large built woman snaps.

‘Yeah man, like you know, I’m just helping is all man.’

‘I can’t stand it, he’s English…Ginge you’re English not some fucking gangster from Jamaica or…or…wherever that fucking voice comes from.’

‘We need a decision,’ the large woman shouts over the arguing, ‘we’ve been going over this for hours…what are we going to do?’ She speaks slowly through gritted teeth.

‘If we let them in we’re fucked,’ Shaun says for the umpteenth time, ‘all the men are fucked…they’ll kill us. You heard them; they said the woman and children will be fine…’

‘We should vote on it,’ Derek suggests.

‘Yes Derek! I know you want to vote, you keep saying you want to vote, but if we do vote and the majority say we let them in then you and I are going to be killed…do you understand that?’

‘They might not?’ Derek shrugs.

‘YOU’S ALL FUCKED INNIT…’

‘Someone shut that fucking kid up,’ Shaun snarls, ‘if he shouts once more then…’

‘Then what?’ The large woman demands, ‘you’ll what? Kill him? Yeah because that’ll help our situation.’

‘Man, why don’t we like, you know, let everyone go if they want to go,’ Ginge suggests, ‘you know, like don’t let them be prisoners but set them free.’

‘Set them free?’ Shaun shakes his head, ‘they ain’t fucking panda’s being released into the jungle.’

‘He’s got a point, it’ll show we’re nice people,’ someone comments from the depths of the crowd gathered round Shaun.

‘We are nice people,’ Shaun replies, ‘we’re very nice people but they ain’t gonna think that.’

‘Maybe they’ll go away,’ Ginge continues, ‘like you know, they’ll get their people and they’ll like, go away and find another fort.’

‘HA, YOU DUMB FUCKING RETARD,’ the youth laughs.

Ignoring the youth they carry on, worried faces with worried expressions. Everyone too hot, too tired and not knowing what to do.

‘Where’s that woman?’ Derek asks, ‘the Polish one? She seems alright. Ask her to go out and talk them down.’

‘What?’ Shaun exclaims.

‘That, man,’ Ginge nods emphatically, ‘is like, a really cool idea you know.’

‘It is,’ the large woman adds, ‘Derek, go and find her.’

‘Oi,’ Shaun cries out, ‘we haven’t decided anything yet.’

‘We have,’ the woman cuts him off, ‘we listened to you so far Shaun, and look at where we are?’

‘Okay,’ Shaun switches into his calm negotiators voice, ‘we shouldn’t rush into anything now, let’s just stay calm and talk this through.’

‘He’s gone man,’ Ginge says needlessly, ‘like the D-man has gone to get the girl.’

‘Derek!’ Shaun shouts, ‘his fucking name is Derek.’

‘Whatever man,’ Ginge shakes his head.

‘Right love,’ the large woman takes centre position as Derek leads Lenski into the middle of the group, ‘your people out there said they’ll let the woman and children stay here, but what about the men?’

Lenski stays quiet. Scanning the group she takes in the panicked expressions, sensing the palpable worry amongst them.

‘They not hurt the woman or the children,’ Lenski says in a clear confident voice, ‘they never hurt them. They are not those people that do those things.’

‘What about us?’ Shaun asks.

‘You?’ Lenski shrugs as though it matters little to her.

‘Yeah, us?’ Shaun repeats, ‘what will they do to us?’

‘You took this place, this is not your place to take…what you expect?’

‘Shit man, I knew this was bad karma,’ Ginge reels from the flat toned words of Lenski.

‘What the fuck have you done Shaun? Derek wails, ‘we’re fucked now, fucking fucking fucked…’

‘Get a grip,’ Shaun snaps thinking frantically, ‘has anyone seen them from the walls yet?’

Heads shaking, the armed men look at each other then back to Shaun. ‘They’re right up against the wall,’ one explains, ‘we keep looking but, well, unless we stick our heads right out over the edge and look down, we can’t see ‘em, and I for one ain’t doing that.’

‘Bloody right,’ Derek nods, ‘they’re like proper trained for this shit, we’re just ordinary people…fuck’s sake Shaun you were an estate agent.’

Lenski stares at the crowd gathered round the flustering Shaun. He just asked if anyone can see them from the walls. If he can ask that, then the people from the walls must be down here. Casually, as though bored of the conversation she looks up and round, scanning the firm line where the wall meets the open sky. Smooth all round, no people, no guard.

Yawning, she stretches her arms out and checks over her shoulder at the back gate. That too has been left unattended.

How can she let them know outside? Tell them this is the time to do something?

‘I speak with them yes,’ Lenski interrupts the chatter, ‘maybe they hear my voice and they don’t feel so bad. I tell them we are okay and we see, it gives you more time,’ she adds with a nod at Shaun.

‘Yeah,’ the former estate agent seizes on the chance to once more appear as though in control, ‘do that but no fucking funny business, you tell ‘em we haven’t hurt anyone…’

‘Yeah and say we’re sorry and they can have their fort back,’ Derek blurts getting a glare from Shaun.

‘No, don’t say that,’ Shaun says quickly.

‘Yeah do say that,’ Derek urges, ‘say we’re really sorry and like, we didn’t mean it…’

‘Bloody hell,’ the large woman snaps taking a step forward, ‘just tell them no one has been hurt and we want to end this peacefully alright?’

‘I say this, yes,’ Lenski nods at the woman.

‘Yeah, yeah good one,’ Derek nods flicking his gaze between the woman and Shaun.

‘Okay as you wish.’ Lenski starts to walk off wondering if anyone will grab her or tell her to slow down. For a second it looks like the idiots might just let her go alone, and she starts eyeing the bolts on the inside thinking how quickly she can get them all pulled back.

‘I’ll be right here,’ Shaun jogs up to fall in step beside her.

‘Of course,’ Lenski nods, not showing any expression. Reaching the inside of the gate she pauses, glancing at the man for permission to start. He stares back for a second wondering what she wants, before nodding and tapping his shotgun for effect which just earns a withering look from the unflappable Lenski.

‘Maddox, you hear me yes?’

The other side of the gate bursts into silent activity, arms waving at one another to get ready. Everyone presses in tight to the sides of the walls as they edge closer to listen. Maddox and Paula ease their way to either side of the gate, staring at each other intently. With Jagger and Mohammed returning the numbers have swelled considerably with hard faced youth ready to do something.

‘Yeah I’m here,’ Maddox replies, ‘you okay Lenski?’

‘Yes I am okay,’ Lenski says slowly, speaking slower than normal she conveys the obvious message that people are listening to her.

‘Good, what’s going on?’ Maddox nods at Paula.

‘They have the meeting with all of their people yes, all of the people they talk and they worry yes?’

Paula locks eyes with Maddox. Having only met Lenski once she doesn't know her voice but even she detects the inflection when she all. All the people? She stares about thinking intently before searching out Roy with her eyes. Motioning to him she points two fingers at her own eyes then points to the top of the wall. Roy nods once and starts moving back staring up.

‘They should be worried,’ Maddox caught the inflection too, giving Paula a quick nod when he sees what she has asked Roy to do.

‘They know this now,’ Lenski’s voice drifts through, ‘they tell me to say none of the people have been hurt.’

‘Good,’ Maddox replies flatly.

‘And they want the peaceful end yes?’

Paula motions to Maddox, keep her talking, keep them focussed.

‘Like what?’ Maddox asks, ‘they suggest anything then?’

‘I not know this but…they worry yes? They worry the men will be killed so they not wanting to come out.’

‘Tell them to come out now then, guns down and hands up and maybe we can have that peaceful end.’

Roy runs back in from the outer gate, motioning to Paula the top wall is clear.

‘Lenski, it’s Paula…is everyone okay?’

‘I say this already, yes the people are okay.’

‘How do we know you’re not being made to say that?’

‘You don’t know this,’ Lenski replies, ‘but I say this yes, the people they are just scared and worried.’

‘So who is in charge in there?’ Paula asks.

‘Er…the man he is in charge, his name is Shaun I think…he is here now.’

‘Shaun? Can you hear me?’ Paula asks getting a nod from Maddox to continue.

‘Yep,’ Shaun calls out. Both Paula and Maddox recognising the same voice from earlier.

‘How about it then?’ Paula asks, ‘you’re the boss in there right? So you make the decision, just walk out now with guns down and arms up.’

‘How do we know you won’t kill all the men?’

‘You don’t,’ Maddox snaps in a harsh tone, ‘you don’t know anything, but what else you gonna do?’

‘Stay in here obviously,’ Shaun retorts in a sarcastic tone.

Paula motions once more for Maddox to keep going, before stepping away to join Roy.

‘Can you take him out if we get you up there,’ Paula points up at the wall.

‘Yes,’ Roy answers quick and flat. He has absolutely no doubts about his expertise with the bow, ‘unless he’s behind cover of course.’

‘He’s right behind that gate, there was no cover there.’

‘Be fine then,’ Roy nods, ‘you sending me up there then?’ He adds with a grin.

‘Er, yeah I was thinking about it. Could you?’ She asks.

‘No problem, we just need a rope. I did have one in my fucking van but my fucking van isn’t here,’ Roy thinks out loud while Paula notices once more that weird way he speaks so nicely but swears all the time, ‘and a grappling hook too, you got any grappling hooks Paula?’ He asks with a glint in his eye.

‘Yeah in my purse.’

‘Boat yards, anchors…ropes…we’re right by the sea so…’ Roy twists round to stare out over the flatlands.

‘No time for that, we’ve got one chance while he’s at the gate.’

‘Righto,’ Roy nods, ‘well unless you can teach me how to fly I don’t see…’

‘Come on,’ she jogs off with a bemused Roy following in her wake. Motioning again for Maddox to keep them talking, she runs past towards the many vehicles parked between the walls.

‘Must be something here,’ she murmurs to Roy trailing behind her, ‘there…that digger thing…what if you stand on the bucket and we lift it up?’

‘Ha! Yeah right…oh you’re being serious, er…well er…it would make too much noise,’ Roy replies, more than slightly taken aback.

‘Yeah it would wouldn’t it,’ Paula bites her lip.

‘Ladders,’ Roy points down to a battered flat-bed lorry with aluminium ladders roped onto the back.

‘Two short, that wall is very high.’

‘Put them on top of something then.’ Roy moves forward then turns quickly waving at several youths watching them with interest. ‘Move quietly and get those ladders down, not a sound though.’

The children burst away glad to be doing something. Like ferrets they pour over the flat-bed lorry, lithe fingers working deftly at the securing ropes. They are young but already have many years practise of breaking into properties and working silently to take what they could.

Roy gauges the distance between the top of the roof to the top of the wall. He looks at the ladders extending, they’re  still going to be too short.

‘Rope,’ he mouths at the children, ‘get some rope.’

‘You need a hand?’ Darius appears, leaving Maddox trying to drag the conversation out at the gate.

‘We want that ladder on that truck and some rope,’ Paula replies. Roy glances at her, startled at how she had already worked the plan out.

The ladder clunks ever so slightly as it strikes the side of the truck cabin, earning the child responsible a round of hard glares. With everything in position, the ladders are slid up to the fullest extension.

‘Too short,’ Roy tuts at the six foot gap left between the top of the ladder and the wall.

‘Rope,’ Darius whispers, pointing to a young girl running towards them with blue thin coiled rope.

‘Great but we got no way of fastening it to the wall, and it’s too thin too grip too,’ Roy says matter of fact.

‘Leave it with me bruv,’ Darius strides off. Whispering something to two children they nod back, and coil the rope out before hunkering down to start tying knots every few inches.

Roy clambers onto the truck, leaning down as Paula passes him the compound bow. At the foot of the ladder and staring up, he can’t see a way of securing the rope to the wall.

‘Mind out,’ Darius whispers as the young girl who found the rope gets on top of the truck. With the end of the rope between her teeth and the rest played out down to the ground she climbs the ladder with ease, pausing only briefly at the top before starting to go further up. Her small hands and feet find cracks and holes to propel her light body up. At the top she scans left and right with the blue rope still between her teeth, giving Roy an image of a young child pirate.

With one smooth movement she gains the top of the wall, immediately going flat to minimise her profile. Disappearing from view, they wait for just seconds until she appears leaning over giving a thumbs up.

‘You’re up,’ Darius mouths.

‘What?’ Roy stares in shock at the rope dangling down the wall.

‘It’s tied on bro,’ Darius urges, ‘go…fucking quick…’

‘How? Oh never mind,’ Roy blinks at the speed the girl did it, little burglars extraordinaire this lot. No wonder crime was so good to them if they can do stuff like this.

Bow looped over his shoulder he starts up the ladder while his tongue starts the internal probe of his mouth. The far corner, on the bottom bit where the cheek meets the jaw, yep…definitely a new lump. Fuck it. It’s going to be a big ass giant tumour sucking the life out of him. Probing further, his face contorts as he tries to stretch his tongue into the corner, poking and prodding with the tip. The girl at the top stares in wonder at the strange man climbing up pulling weird faces.

Gripping the rope he starts the climb, hand over hand using the knots put in place by the kids. Nearing the top, the girl twists round to check before nodding.

‘Stay low,’ she hisses as he negotiates the lip of the wall.

‘I’m trying,’ Roy whispers. Going flat he lies still, grinning at the little girl giving him a big toothy smile. ‘Well done,’ Roy nods.

‘Cheers mate,’ the girl whispers.

‘Mate? I’m old enough to be your dad,’ Roy shakes his head. Crabbing along, he starts across the top of the flat topped wall. The girl remains at the still, watching him as he gets closer to the inner edge.

Shifting position he scans round, gaining a view of the inside of the inner gate. The Polish girl, Lenski, stands next to a man holding a long barrelled gun. Other armed men are nearby but not too close.

Even from this distance they look worried, casting nervous glances at each other as they listen to the negotiations.

He sense movement behind him. He twists round to see the girl motioning for him to get on with it, clearly relaying a message sent from below.

Nodding back he pulls the bow free, takes an arrow and in one movement is up on one knee with the arrow nocked and aimed.

Turning his head he spots the girl holding her hand out flat, telling him to wait.

The girl watches Darius below holding his hand out flat. Darius stares along to Paula watching her holding her hand out flat. In turn, Paula watches Maddox holding his the same way.

‘It’s all on you,’ Maddox repeats, ‘either you come out or you don’t.’

‘Why don’t you come in without the weapons?’ Shaun says again, ‘you want us to come out unarmed so why don’t you come in unarmed. Then we can talk about it properly.’

‘Last chance,’ Maddox says getting a thumbs up from Paula that Roy is ready.

‘Eh? What’s that fucking mean? Last chance or what? You gonna wreck your own gates to get in here? We’ll kill everyone before you get a foot inside.’

‘Remember this,’ Maddox calls out making sure his voice carries into the fort, ‘you remember I gave you every chance.’

His flat hand changes to a thumbs up. Paula’s copies his, Darius changes his own hand shape which is then copied by the girl.

Heart rate slow, breathing normal. Nothing but the arrow exists. Roy sees the thumbs up, turns his head and looses. The arrow flies true and straight on a downhill trajectory that uses the force of gravity as much as the pressure given to its flight from the bow.

The arrow takes Shaun through the throat, pinning him to the wooden post behind him.

Maddox listens, hears a thud and strangled yelp, followed in an instant by screams coming from inside.

On his feet and Roy breaks cover, the next arrow already nocked, pulled and ready. The crowd of people react in stunned shock. Some scream out as others gape at the sight of their leader killed outright. A man steps out holding a weapon only to be taken off his feet by the arrow striking his chest driving clean through his heart.

‘GET DOWN,’ Roy bellows, ‘DROP THE GUNS NOW…LENSKI…’

Already reacting, she grasps the bolts ramming them back. Maddox wrenches the gate open. Grabbing Lenski, he pulls her through before striding in pistol up and aimed. Paula is right behind him as Darius and the children burst in, storming into action.

‘GUNS DOWN,’ Maddox roars. The crews already inside spring to life. Ploughing into the crowd they start striking and hitting at anyone holding a weapon. Roy screams from the wall, Paula charges forward, firing a round into the air. There’s chaos but in a controlled and directed manner, an overwhelming assault to the senses. Two men killed within seconds, gunshots ringing out, people shouting orders. Children everywhere running amongst the group ,hitting and grabbing guns from unsuspecting men.

‘OKAY…OKAY…’ Derek throws his gun down. Stretching his arms to the sky, he stands stock still yelling at everyone else to do the same.

Within thirty seconds of the first arrow striking Shaun, the fort is re-taken. The last of the armed men drop their weapons or have them ripped from their hands by hard faced children.

Women screaming, children crying and quickly they start dropping to their knees in a desperate attempt to show surrender.

‘CLEAR?’ Roy shouts from above.

‘CLEAR,’ Paula shouts back,. ‘Get those guns away,’ she shouts at the children, motioning towards the weapons dropped to the ground.

‘Wow…’ Ginge, being the only one left standing and holding his arms completely stretched to the sky, stares in stunned awe. ‘Man….that was like, you know…wow.’

‘Took your time,’ Sierra walks out from the room she was locked in, grinning at Darius as she quickly walks over to kiss him.

Roy lowers his bow but keeps his eyes locked on the crowd below. Two lives taken. Two men killed without hesitation and his only concern is that worrying sensation now in his tongue, aching a bit like it’s strained. The fact that his tongue has been stretching over to the far corner of his mouth doesn't enter his head.

‘That was great mate,’ the girl joins him at the edge of the wall.

‘Thank you,’ Roy replies quietly, ‘and my name is Roy, not mate.’

‘You teach me?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Teach me to do that?’ She asks seriously.

‘Takes years,’ Roy mutters watching the crowd closely, ‘hours of practise every day.’

‘I see you shooting them arrows at the zombies, you’s well good and I ain’t goin’ nowhere so teach me yeah?’

‘Was that an actual sentence?’ Roy asks with a quick shake of his head, ‘what’s your name?’

‘Kizzie innit.’

‘Kizzie Innit? Unusual name.’

‘Nah bruv it’s just Kizzie.’

‘Oh, right yeah sorry er…well Kizzie we’ll have to see.’

‘Don’t brush me off,’ the girl tuts.

‘Kizzie, it really is hours every day and takes a long time to learn.’

‘Yeah so’s when I’m older I be as good as you yeah?’

A flicker of irritation crosses Roy’s face. Not at the interest the girl shows, but the way she speaks,. ‘Tell you what,’ Roy says, ‘we’ll practise archery, but only if you start talking properly.’

‘How’s I gonna know that then bruv?’

‘I’ll teach you, and for a start my name is Ro. Not bruv, or mate, but Roy.’

The girl looks up at him with an expression of sublime confidence, ‘okay Roy, sweet bruv. So we going down there now, yeah?’

‘No Kizzie, we’re staying here to keep watch. The walls don’t have anybody on them you see. That was their mistake,’ he nods at the large group kneeling on the ground. They left themselves undefended and open to attack, which is what we exploited.’

‘Ah right,’ the girl nods.

‘Kizzie? You comin’ down?’ Darius peers up, using his hand to shield his eyes from the sun.

‘Nah bruv, me and Roy innit, we’s defending so no fucker exploits the walls.’

‘I think your man got an apprentice,’ Darius jokes to Paula.

‘Good for him,’ Paula replies wincing at the two dead bodies speared by arrows. Having walked back in, Lenski views Shaun’s corpse with distaste before crossing to join Maddox in front of the group.

‘I warn you of this yes? You not say I did not try,’ she calls out.

‘We gave him a chance,’ Maddox adds, ‘it’s done now.’

‘What happens now then, love?’ The large woman asks, ‘you mind if I sit on my arse, I’m too fat to stay on my knees.’ Without waiting for the answer she shifts position, wincing from the pains in her legs as she stretches them out.

‘CONTACT,’ Roy shouts, ‘VEHICLE COMING.’

‘Darius, you stay with these. Maddox, you coming with me? ROY? YOU STAYING UP THERE?’ Paula speaks fast, moving towards the gate.

‘YEP, GOT GOOD RANGE,’ Roy shouts.

Leaving Darius to oversee guarding of the group, they run towards the gate.

‘Must be more refugees,’ Paula mutters watching the approaching vehicle in the distance. Standing quietly, they watch as the zebra striped vehicle gets closer, exchanging confused stares at the sight of the strange looking Landrover.

‘Is Howie yes?’ Lenski takes a step forward, ‘yes is Mr Howie.’ She nods looking back at Maddox and Paula.

Relaxing slightly they wait as the vehicle slows to a stop, the easily identifiable bulk of Clarence in the passenger seat.

Doors open as the group clamber down, Meredith jumping out first to run over with excited barks in greeting.

‘Hello,’ Milly shouts in advance of anyone else speaking.

‘Er, hi,’ Paula calls back with a bemused smile.

‘Long story,’ Howie says with a glance at the girl holding Lani’s hand, ‘where’s Nick?’ He asks staring back to the fort.

‘Nick?’ Maddox asks.

‘Yeah…is he not back yet?’

‘No, no sign of him,’ Maddox replies. He sees the look of worry cross their faces.

‘Shit…right…’ Howie stops a few feet from them staring back over the flatlands.

‘We got the fort back,’ Paula explains quickly.

‘Really?’ Clarence asks.

‘Got Roy onto the wall, he took their leader out and another man, Lenski got the gate open and we went in…’

‘Well done,’ Howie says seriously, ‘anyone hurt?’

‘Just two of theirs,’ Paula replies.

‘They not hurt anyone,’ Lenski adds, ‘where is Nick?’

‘No idea, he didn’t show at the car park so we figured he’d come back here. Everyone get water and food quickly, change clothes and wash if you need to. We’re going back out. You got everything here?’ He looks to all three in turn.

‘Yeah,’ Maddox nods, ‘we got this, we’ll get some more with you yeah?’

‘What’s the situation in there?’ Clarence asks.

‘We only just took it, like a few minutes ago…they’re all kneeling in the dirt just inside the gate.’

‘Boss? We need to sort them out first, then go get Nick. You got anyone good with vehicles? The Saxon broke down on the way out,’ Clarence stares at Maddox.

‘Only stealing them,’ Maddox replies, ‘some of ‘em are okay at stuff but…’

‘There might be someone who can do this, we have many come here now,’ Lenski cuts in.

‘Shit Nick, where the hell are you?’ Howie mutters, ‘let’s get inside.’

‘Mr Howie said a rude word,’ Milly pipes up announcing it to everyone, ‘I’m Milly,’ she grins.

***

Worried now. Very worried. Nick is strong and capable and he’d know to get back here. Something has happened.

Leading the way I stride towards the gate, the others right behind me being introduced to Milly who talks non-stop but shows that skill again by instantly remembering everyone’s names.

‘Roy,’ I nod up in greeting at the sight of the man on top the wall, bow in hand. He nods back as I cross through the gap into the fort.

Darius stands with a rifle aimed at a large group of people sitting and kneeling on the ground. Ordinary people of all shapes and sizes, men, women and children and all of them looking terrified.

Maddox’s children are stood encircling the group, all of them armed with weapons and, despite how exhausted we all are and the fucking heat sapping away at everyone, they look keen eyed and switched on.

All eyes fix on me as I approach the group. Dave right behind me with Clarence. The lads and Lani just behind them. Nodding at Darius, I stop just before the group and look down.

Two men have been killed by Roy. One of them pinned to a wooden post with an arrow through his neck, the other lies still on the ground with one through his chest.

‘Jagger, did you see any sign of Nick on your way back?’ I call out to the lad standing next to Mohammed.

‘No Mr Howie,’ shaking his head, he looks at Mohammed.

‘Is he missing?’ Mohammed asks.

‘Yeah,’ I notice the ripple of attention spiking up in the group as Jagger says my name. Everyone now looks closely as they scan the group, spotting Dave and Clarence then down to Lani. Meredith, still off the lead makes no hesitation in plundering forward to snake through the group sniffing at them. Some flinch away from the huge dog as we wait for her to finish her sniffing. The thought that some might be infected is already in my mind and I know Dave has already drawn his pistol.

‘Stay still,’ I call out bluntly.

‘Are you Mr Howie?’ A large woman asks quietly.

‘Mr Howie said to stay still,’ Dave replies instantly.

Meredith trots through the group, wagging her tail as she sniffs at children before seeming to lose interest and trotting off to the side.

‘Yes I am,’ I finally answer the woman who asked me, ‘this is Dave, Clarence, Lani, Blowers and Cookey.’ If my name is going to get banded about then the others can have it too. ‘What happened here?’

‘Hey man, like we didn’t mean no bad karma man, you know. We were only like, doing what Shaunie said but the D-man said Shaunie didn’t know what he was doing but…’

‘Do what?’ I ask the man with dreadlocked ginger hair, not really understanding what he just said.

‘Sue, you tell ‘em,’ a man calls out from within the group.

‘Are you Sue?’ I ask the large woman.

‘I am,’ she replies in a confident voice. ‘That idiot,’ she points back to the man pinned to the post with the arrow through his neck, ‘talked us into taking this place for ourselves…god knows how he did it…but he did so…’

‘And you all went along with it?’ I ask quickly, ‘it’s a big group to do what one man says.’

‘He said we shouldn’t be under control of someone else, he like got it in our heads that the women might get taken and the kids and stuff,’ a man blurts out, nervous looking he glances between me and Sue.

‘Who are you?’

‘Derek,’ he replies.

‘D-man,’ the ginger haired man adds for whatever strange reason.

‘This place is free,’ I call out, ‘we don’t hold anyone by force and we don’t turn anyone away. We have controls to keep the infection out and we’ve already lost this place to the disease once but we’d have taken you in.’

‘We didn’t know that,’ Sue replies.

‘But you see the people outside yes? You see them queue and come in…’

‘Shaun said they were probably having to give all their stuff over and weapons,’ Derek says, ‘like I know it sounds stupid but he was really good at talking us into stuff.’

‘Until the end when we realised what a prick he was,’ Sue scoffs.

‘Sue said a rude word,’ Milly calls out, ‘Mr Howie will tell you off now,’ glancing round I see Milly staring at me expectantly.

‘Er, don’t anyone swear,’ I call out which seems to meet her approval, ‘or Milly will tell me off,’ I add.

‘What now?’ Sue asks, ‘they said before the woman and children will be safe.’

‘We said that before we got in,’ Paula explains. I nod in understanding.

‘Are you all from the same place?’ I ask.

‘No, just a couple of us,’ Sue replies, ‘more joined as we came down…Shaun was in the first lot.’

‘Darius, you stay with them mate, everyone else with me please,’ I walk off, fully aware that I’m telling everyone what to do but with Nick still not back the pressure to get this sorted and back out is on.

‘Right, ideas?’ I ask the group gathered round me, ‘we’re not hurting anyone or killing anyone else.’

‘I agree,’ Paula says quickly, ‘we said the women and children would be safe so we should honour that. They’re in a right mess, filthy and hungry too by the looks of it.’

‘They eat lots when they come in,’ Lenski explains, ‘but then they worry and they not wash and the fort it too big for them to guard so they worry and argue.’

‘You’ve been with them the longest, what do you think?’ Maddox asks his partner.

Thinking for a minute Lenski turns to stare at the group. They know their fate is being discussed so they stare over with concerned, fearful faces.

‘Yes, they not the bad people. The man Shaun, he controlling them but he lose the control at the end. The men, they are the husbands and fathers of the women and children so they are the families…they no different to the other people that come here,’ she nods at the main camp and the groups standing about watching with worried interest. ‘They worry too,’ she adds, ‘everyone they worry, this is the safe place for all the people so we not make them go.’

‘How did they get in?’ Dave asks in his blunt tone.

‘We not have enough people here,’ Lenski replies equally as blunt, ‘you take too many last night and they come and argue and make the scene…’

‘Distraction,’ Maddox nods.

‘Yes, they use the distraction,’ Lenski says.

‘That’s twice now we’ve lost this place,’ I say with a glance at Clarence, ‘it can’t keep happening.’

‘We had no choice,’ Maddox is quick to jump in, ‘with that lot coming at us we had to deal with it.’

‘Yeah I know,’ I nod, ‘but the infected could try something like that too.’

‘I’ll sort it, you leave it with me now,’ Maddox says firmly, ‘with my crews here we can control the gates, the walls and make sure security is done properly.’

‘Paula? What about you? What’s your plans with Roy?’ I ask her.

‘Me? I haven’t got a clue,’ she laughs, ‘Roy wants to find a doctor…you know with his er…’

‘Yeah,’ I nod quickly, ‘that’s our priority too, well after finding Nick and getting the Saxon back, and then finding more ammunition, maybe some more guns and of course we’ve still got the bodies to burn…which now means more fuel.’

‘Tell you what,’ Paula says clearly, ‘er…if you don’t mind me suggesting things?’ She suddenly seems to become aware of everyone looking at her.

‘Carry on,’ I urge.

‘Sure?’ She looks at Maddox and Lenski.

‘Sure yes, you stay here yes, we need the people like you,’ Lenski nods firmly. An acceptance made, a transition of an agreement. Paula and Roy are now with us.

Relaxing, she smiles once before carrying on, ‘well, I was thinking that maybe,’ she goes steady, clearly not wanting to be seen as bossy, ‘Maddox does the security and organises getting those bodies burned, you lot go look for Nick and I’ll take Roy to find ammunition…just tell me where to look and we’ll sort it.’

‘Military bases, barracks, armouries,’ Dave cuts in, ‘there’s a supply ship in Portsmouth harbour that we never emptied.’

‘We can do that,’ Paula says.

‘Makes sense,’ Lani nods at me, ‘means we’re free to find Nick…’

‘Do that then, everyone happy?’ I stare round at the nodding heads, ‘just leaves that lot to be spoken to, you happy if I say something?’ This is getting awkward. Me not wanting to tread on Maddox’s feet, him not wanting to do the same, now with Paula too. I guess it takes time for things to settle. Maybe we should have that council after all. Bloody hell, I can imagine Sergeant Hopewell cursing me from beyond.

In agreement and we walk back to the group, all of them looking worried as they stare up.

‘LIONS AND TIGERS AND BEARS,’ Milly decides to shout.

‘Oh my,’ Cookey can’t resist the add on.

‘Paula, do you like lions and tigers and bears?’

‘Pardon? Er…yes I think so.’

‘Maddox do you like lions and tigers and bears?’

The hard faced man stares at me, I shrug and motion for him to answer.

‘Er yeah,’ Maddox says slowly.

‘Lenski, do you like lions and tigers a bears?’ And so it goes on. Somehow the little girl keeps everyone waiting as she goes round the large group, asking everyone if they like lions and tigers and bears. Funny thing is, no one tells her to stop but just waits until she’s finished. She even asks Sue and Derek, remembering their names from the brief introduction a few minutes ago.

‘Right, I think she’s finished,’ I call out, ‘this is a free place and will remain as such. You will not be held against your will nor will you be expelled. You will all be searched for weapons and they will be removed. Anyone with skills will be asked to work but not forced. Our food is held centrally so we can share everything with everyone. There has to be control in a place like this. More people will arrive so although it looks big now it will soon fill up. The people in charge here are the ones you can see standing with me. We don’t own this fort but we run it and we do it for the good of everyone and for now it will stay like that. Any questions?’

‘Man like, you saying we can stay here?’

‘He just said that Ginge,’ Sue mutters quietly.

‘Yeah I thought so but like you know, I wasn’t expecting that…cool man.’

‘Mr Howie,’ Sue calls my attention, ‘we aren’t bad, really we just followed the wrong person. We want to stay and we want to be involved. It was a bad idea what we did and on behalf of everyone I want to say how sorry…’ murmurs break out, heads nodding in agreement. Some of the men and women cry openly at the good news. Relief, exhaustion, stress and tension all playing their part.

‘We’ve got an hour or two of daylight left, get these people checked for cuts, bites or open wounds then we put the same controls in as before but more guards on the gates. Keep them rotated so they stay switched on. Keep the walls covered and also…check the vehicles in the gap because if you got in that easy so will others.’

‘Good point,’ Paula says, ‘I was thinking the same thing.’

‘We learn as we go,’ I sigh about to ask Nick for a cigarette, ‘my lot, get cleaned and ready to go.’

‘Lenski, can we find a mechanic here?’

‘Sierra she has the lists yes? I sort this.’ She walks off heading towards the police office.

‘CONTACT,’ Roy shouts, ‘VEHICLE…’ Lenski stops mid stride turning round as she rolls her eyes, tutting at the relentless pace.

‘Sierra?’ She calls out, ‘Mr Howie he need the mechanic yes? You find this?’

‘Mechanic? Ginge, ain’t you a mechanic?’ Derek from the kneeling group asks.

‘Yeah man,’ Ginge nods, ‘like you know, yeah.’

‘Really?’ I ask him, ‘you don’t look like a mechanic.’

‘My father had a garage, you know, I had to do it like, I had no choice man I was oppressed.’

‘Poor you,’ I glare at him, ‘our vehicle has broken down.’

‘A Saxon, do you know them?’ Clarence asks, ‘an army vehicle, big, armoured personnel carrier?’ he adds at the blank look.

‘Engines are engines,’ Ginge shrugs, ‘apart from like you know, the modern cars with computers and the diagnostic stuff.’

‘Nah this is old,’ Clarence replies.

‘Old is good,’ Ginge shrugs.

‘Good, you’re coming with us then.’

‘Me? Whoa man like hang on here.’

‘Want to stay here?’ Clarence takes a big step forward, folding his huge arms he glares down at the poor man.

‘Yeah like whatever man, glad to help you know,’ Ginge changes tack instantly, ‘need tools man,’ he adds.

‘We’ll find them on the way,’ I reply.

‘SINGLE VEHICLE AT SPEED,’ Roy shouts, ‘NOT SLOWING DOWN.’ That gets us going. My team all breaking away running towards the gate.

Outside we stand ready, moving into a circular line as we watch the small hatchback roaring down the track towards us.

‘Where’s Milly?’ I ask Lani as she moves into position next to me.

‘Lenski’s got her.’

‘Fuck me, they’re in a hurry,’ Blowers mutters.

‘Maybe they need a poo,’ Cookey replies earning a quick look from the rest of us. ‘What?’ He says with a grin.

The car leaves the braking to the very last second, bringing the Anti-Lock Braking System into play, juddering the rear wheels as the car slews to a stop in a cloud of dust.

‘Cor,’ Cookey can’t help himself at the sight of the beautiful girl clambering out of the driver’s door. Seeing us she scans the group, visibly staring first at Clarence then Dave and Lani before moving to lock eyes on me.

‘She’s armed,’ Blowers shouts. We all draw quickly, taking aim as Dave moves out to the side.

‘DROP THE WEAPON,’ he roars.

‘WAIT,’ the girl screams, ‘please…’

‘Blowers, move in and take the gun,’ I raise my voice so the girl can hear, “Don’t move…just stay still…are you bit?’

‘No…Nick sent me…’ she blurts out.

‘Nick?’ I exclaim.

‘What did you say?’ Blowers demands, ‘where is he?’

‘Is he hurt?’ Cookey walks forward, we all do as Dave deftly moves up behind her and slips the pistol from her holster.

‘Please,’ she holds her hands up, tears streaming down her face. She is very pretty but looks utterly exhausted, literally swaying on her feet.

‘Lani?’ She asks Lani, ‘are you Lani? And you’re Clarence and you’re Dave,’ she nods at Dave standing next to her, staring at the pistol he took from her belt, ‘you must Blowers and Cookey and you’re Mr Howie.’

‘How do you know that?’ I ask.

‘Nick said to tell you he made Tower Bridge move so the zombies fell off and the ferry from the Island too, er…he set it on fire…’

‘Okay, take it easy,’ I speak calmly, ‘what’s happened? Where is he?’

‘Oh god, is it you? Is it really you? Nick said to find the fort and find Mr Howie that he’d know what to do.’

‘You’ve found us,’ Lani moves in close to the distressed girl, ‘it’s okay, just take a breath.’

‘He said…’ she starts crying harder gasping for breath the tears, ‘he said you’d know what to do.’

‘We will,’ Lani says softly, ‘Mr Howie is right here, we’re all right here…now where’s Nick?’ You look exhausted, are you injured?’

‘No…I haven’t slept and it’s so hot…but Nick and Billy.’

‘Okay, take it easy. Lani can you check her over with Paula and bring her through to the police office. Let’s get her out the sun and some fluids inside her.’

‘Come on,’ Lani pulls the girl gently away.

‘Wait!’ She cries rushing back to the car she leans in to draw a single bladed axe out.

‘That’s Nick’s,’ Blowers says quickly.

‘He made me take it to show you,’ the girl says.

‘Is he in danger? Right now is he in danger?’

‘No…yes…I er…they took him but he seemed okay I don’t know,’ she stammers.

‘I’ll take her in and get her calm,’ Lani says, ‘what’s your name?’

‘Lilly, I’m Lilly.’

‘Come on Lilly, you come with me.’

Forty Two

‘You look better,’ Paula smiles kindly as the girl walks into the room, pausing slightly she takes in the many faces staring at her and smiles nervously.

‘Sorry for earlier, I was a bit overcome with it all.’ Her voice is refined and cultured, indicating a private education from a wealthy background.

‘You feeling okay?’ I ask, desperate to find out about Nick.

‘Tired,’ she smiles at me, ‘I haven’t slept for…gosh I don’t even know how long it’s been.’

‘Here,’ Cookey stands at the side, still on coffee making punishment for his many mischievous misdemeanours. He passes her a steaming mug and she’s shown to a vacant seat. As she settles down, she keep glancing nervously up at everyone.

‘From what Lilly just told me it sounds like Nick is okay for the minute,’ Lani explains quickly putting our minds at rest before looking at the girl. ‘Tell us everything from the start,’ she prompts.

‘Everything?’

‘Everything,’ Clarence rumbles, ‘takes a bit longer but then we know all the facts.’

‘Right, well,’ she takes a deep breath and starts. The story that follows holds us captivated, her elocution is so perfect, her pronunciation so clear that I can imagine everything as she relays it all.

An awful, truly horrific set of events but she bravely fights the tears during the hardest parts, forcing herself to keep going. When she tells us how she hid in the undergrowth and watched her friend Sam being raped, then her father being killed, I know I am not the only one with a lump in my throat.

She tells us of how she tracks Billy and Todd back to the holiday cottage, driving the Landrover after them and finally how she met Nick in town.

She explains it all clearly, leaving few questions and the attention becomes super focussed when she talks about meeting Nick. It even earns a chuckle when she says how she was punching him, mistaking him for one of the men.

Lilly tells how they went back to the car park, and she told Nick to stay and wait for us but she didn’t have time to lose, she had to leave immediately. He, as any of us would, made the decision to go with her.

As she tells me everything, I can’t help but feel an immense pride in Nick. Clarence gives me a nod and I can even see Dave leaning forward to take interest at how she says Nick handled everything. Blowers has a tight lipped smile and Cookey is hanging off every word she says.

Todd being bit and turned drops our eyes. The sadness and injustice of it all is terrible, and she has to stop for a few minutes to compose herself.

‘He did the right thing,’ I say gently.

‘I know,’ she nods and carries on, ‘he was so fast and…he didn’t panic or anything like that.’

‘We’ve been through a lot together, please carry on,’ I motion when she recovers her composure.

‘…Then we were on our back to the van when we heard the voices, well Nick heard them first. We hid by the hedge for a minute and that’s when Nick gave me the axe and said about Tower Bridge and burning a ferry from an Island. He said to find you and tell you what happened.’

‘What happened next?’ I ask, completely engrossed.

Smiling sadly she looks round at us, ‘Nick got some water and poured it on his er…his groin area then called out asking who was there. They shouted back and he pretended he had been for a wee,’ the way she says it, using the word wee and the image of Nick pretending he’d sprinkled on himself brings a few smiles from us. ‘He said he’d found the van in that town but that driver had been bitten. He said the man told him to go to Chapsworth House. He was very believable,’ she nods emphatically, ‘I could hear them speaking and they seemed to believe him. It was like he was there because he was trying to find the house but was lost and he was glad they had found him.’

‘Good lad,’ Clarence sits back folding his arms, ‘quick thinking.’

‘Right,’ sitting back too I stare up at the ceiling whilst I run it back through my mind. ‘So they saw the children playing in the river. They were guarded, which suggests they are being cared for, and the very act of letting them play in the water on a hot day speaks of at least some level of care being given. Sounds like a doctor has got control of this place, and is getting his men to scavenge the houses, bring back the food and any children they find. Armed guards on the front gate, armed people at the rear and a roving patrol too by the sounds of it.

‘Well,’ I pause to think for a second, ‘if we go in all guns blazing, we run the risk of them hurting the children or Nick so that’s out. Stealth is the next idea, sending Dave in on his own will get the job down.  However, if they’ve got lots of men, and I’m not worried for Dave as he can take care of them, but the noise created will alert them…maybe we should go and speak to them?’ I look round the table.

‘Just turn up?’ Blowers asks.

‘That’s what I was thinking but no, after what Lilly said they did…no…we need to get in, get the children and Nick, and get them out.’

‘May I play devil’s advocate for a minute?’ Paula asks, ‘how do we know that the actions those two men took outside in the town are the orders given by whoever is in the house, this Doc person or…’

‘True,’ I nod, ‘they could have been acting independently.’

‘No, actually I’m not going to play devil’s advocate,’ Paula continues, ‘those children are old enough to say what happened to them, and Lilly said there looked to be a lot of them in the river, so those children are being taken back and telling whoever is in charge exactly what happened. This suggests,’ she continues, ‘that they are maybe…I don’t know…sanctioning it for want of a better word.’

‘Agreed,’ Clarence leans forward, ‘I think we have to assume worst case scenario here. Children are being taken from families that were, to a certain degree,’ he looks apologetically at Lilly, ‘in a safe environment with parents taking care of them. Certainly not under any immediate and direct threat, other than what was happening to Lilly with Norman.’

‘But that was just me,’ Lilly cuts in, ‘they couldn’t have known that and it didn’t involve Billy or Todd. They just found a peaceful sleeping camp.’

‘Okay, so no negotiations then. That leaves us with one course of action, and that’s to get inside and get them out.’

‘That’s me then,’ Dave says bluntly, ‘but from what the young lady said this house is big and well-guarded. Describe the layout to me again please,’ he directs the question at Lilly, listening intently while she goes through it.

‘Got it, river at the back a few hundred metres from the house, with some trees and bushes in the grounds that can give us cover. At the front there is the long drive with armed guards at the gates and then what sounds like more at the front of the house. The delivery entrance to the side sounds like the first point of entry,’ she nods as I relay the details back to her.

‘Multiple strike then,’ Clarence says quietly looking across at Dave.

‘Yes,’ Dave replies, ‘the gate guards, the front of the house and the rear at the same time as I go in through the side.’

‘Won’t that alert them?’ Cookey asks.

‘Distraction and diversion,’ Clarence explains, ‘the inside of the house will erupt in chaos which gives Dave the opportunity to move through them.’

‘I think,’ I say, ‘Dave should go in first and the rest of us will be in position to strike and move when we hear the first contact from inside.’

‘Yes Mr Howie,’ Dave nods.

‘We need someone to go in with Dave. No offence but if I was a child and had some mad man running towards me with two big knives I think I’d shit myself,’ I suggest quietly.

‘Fair point,’ Clarence rumbles with a smile.

‘I’ll go,’ Roy speaks for the first time, sitting at the back and silently listening to the proceeding. We all twist round to stare at him, he nods back with a big smile, ‘bows are silent and I can use a knife too.’ He edges forward, shuffling his chair across the floor to be closer to the discussion, a keen interested look on his face.

‘Yeah Dave with knives and Roy with his bow … that’s not gonna scare them anymore is it?’ Paula says drily.

‘Does it matter if we scare them?’ Dave says, ‘getting them out is the priority.’ Silence for a few seconds as we all absorb what he just said. Bloody hell; imagine Dave going at a bunch of terrified kids bellowing at them to go with him. That’ll be worse trauma than everything they’ve been through so far.

‘Hmmm,’ I nod diplomatically, ‘yes we could or maybe a friendlier face?’

‘I’ll go,’ Lilly cuts in firmly.

‘No, not happening…’

‘He’s my brother so he’ll trust me,’ she cuts me off again.

‘Lilly, we can’t send you in with Dave and Roy, you haven’t seen what Dave does when he gets going, no offence Dave.’

‘None taken Mr Howie.’

‘I don’t care,’ she says defiantly, ‘it can’t be any worse than what I’ve seen already.’

‘It is, trust me,’ Cookey mutters.

‘I think you take the girl yes?’ Lenski says, ‘she is the sister and the boy will be frightened so seeing the sister will be good yes? You protect the girl and she take the children out.’

‘Yes!’ Lilly exclaims.

‘No,’ I retort, ‘no way.’

‘Hang on,’ Paula holds a hand up, ‘It’s a good idea to take Lilly in with you. Dave might be stretched to protect her fully and…’

‘I won’t,’ Dave says a touch indignantly.

‘So take a couple more in, we’ve got enough people now. Clarence or Maddox, or even I can lead against the gate guards, that leaves your lads or whoever to do the front and the rear. In fact,’ Paula gears up, ‘Roy can take the rear as he can eliminate them without noise, and I don’t mean to be sexist, but a female face is going to soothe those children a lot more than one of you.’

‘I can take them out at the back,’ Dave says.

‘You’re going in the side door,’ Paula replies.

‘After I’ve taken the guards out,’ Dave responds.

‘No, right listen in…’ I bring their attention to me, ‘Maddox you up for this?’

‘Yeah course,’ he nods instantly.

‘Right then, Maddox leads against the gate guards with his crews. Roy and Paula work well together so you two take the back of the house, Clarence at the front with you two,’ I nod at Blowers and Cookey, ‘me Dave, Lani and Lilly go through the side.’

‘Four of us?’ Dave asks.

‘Yes, four of us. Dave, you deal with whatever comes at us and maybe lead them off with lots of noise. Lani and I will stay close to Lilly for protection and focus on getting the children out.’

‘While Dave kills everyone,’ Lani adds helpfully.

‘Probably,’ I nod glumly.

‘Where does that river go?’ Paula asks.

‘Don’t know,’ I reply, ‘anyone?’ Heads shake at me.

‘Once we’ve got them out we’ll need a way of getting them away. We can’t take vehicles close to the house or they’ll hear us coming and we don’t want to be running miles with loads of terrified children either.’

‘Boats?’ Dave asks with a look of alarm.

‘It’s an idea,’ Paula looks round at everyone, ‘straight out the back and down to the river, get them on boats and away quickly. What?’ She asks with a puzzled frown at everyone grinning at Dave.

‘Dave doesn't like boats,’ I explain.

‘Great idea,’ Clarence grins evilly.

‘They can run,’ Dave says quickly, ‘we can park close and it won’t be that far.’

‘Boats make sense Dave,’ I say.

‘Or we just call the vehicles in once we’re secure,’ he suggests with a pleading look.

‘It’s not the sea Dave, it’s only a river.’

‘That’s not the point Mr Howie,’ he says unhappily.

‘Is it deep enough for boats?’ Maddox asks, ‘it might be a shallow stream or a minor tributary running to a larger body of water.’ Silence for a few seconds as everyone stares at the hardened ex-drug dealer gang leader speaking so eloquently.

‘Good point, we’ll need an advanced reconnaissance pathfinder expedition then,’ I reply with a smile to Dave in memory of the last time I tried to sound all military outside the police station in Portsmouth.

‘Dave again then,’ Lani quips.

‘Yep, reckon so. Lilly you go with Dave and one other to drive you there, then show Dave the way in. Dave you check the depth of the river and please don’t kill anyone….Dave I’m being serious….don’t go attacking that house on your own.’

‘Okay Mr Howie.’

‘Dave, seriously … just check the river and the layout and get back here before nightfall. We’ll get everything else ready and move out as soon as it’s dark.’

‘Okay Mr Howie.’

‘Paula and Roy, do you mind going with Dave and Lilly? Once you’ve established the depth, find us some boats to use. Stay discreet, don’t engage with anyone and no killing zombies unless you absolutely have to and if you do … then for fucks sake do it quietly.’

‘Got it,’ Paula nods seriously, ‘leave it with us, er… can I suggest something? Is it worth creating a diversion for when Dave goes in? An explosion or something like that? They must have a parking area so we could rig something up on the vehicles. When that goes off everyone knows to start the attack.’

‘Dave? Clarence?’

‘Yeah,’ Clarence nods slowly, ‘yes could work … one big, diversionary explosion draws their attention, you go in the side and we attack the other points.’

‘Suppression and distraction, an overwhelming attack on their senses which will give the effect of a much larger force taking them out,’ Dave says.

‘Prisoners?’ Maddox asks, ‘if they surrender?’

‘Kill them,’ Dave replies quickly, too quickly.

‘No! Don’t kill them,’ I almost shout, ‘suck it and see mate, do what you think is right.’

‘Kill them,’ Dave nods again.

‘Don’t kill them,’ I add, ‘Dave, we can’t just kill everyone.’

‘We did at the refinery.’

‘Yeah but that was slightly different.’

‘How?’

‘Well for a start they’d murdered loads of people and they started shooting at us.’

‘We shot them first … on the road outside.’

‘They’d just killed those people, remember? They executed them.’

‘These men have killed Lilly’s father and the other people.’

‘Yes but…and we didn’t mean to blow the refinery up either.’

‘Didn’t we?’ Clarence asks with a raised eyebrow.

‘Eh?’ I ask him with a touch of alarm.

‘Dave has never missed a shot in his life,’ Clarence mutters.

‘It was their shots that blew it up, they were shooting at us…’ I exclaim, ‘anyway we can’t just rampage round the place shooting everyone … or stabbing them either,’ I shoot a dark look at Dave sitting there with a look of pure innocence on his face.’

‘Bringing this conversation back to some relevance,’ Maddox says, his deep voice ending our refinery debate, ‘use Jagger and Mohammed to set the explosives on the vehicles, just show them what to do. Darius is staying here this time to maintain protection on the fort.’

‘But…’ Darius interjects with a pained expression.

‘No buts bruv,’ Maddox waves him down, ‘I need you in charge of security when we are not here, you get me?’

‘Yeah,’ Darius sighs.

‘Darius bruv, we don’t lose this place again…’

‘Got it Mads, won’t happen.’

‘Weapons?’ Maddox turns back to the group, ‘we’re down to pistols and shotguns.’

‘Got some rifles out there,’ Roy suggests.

‘Sawn offs!’ Cookey grins, ‘back to the sawn offs…oh yeah!’

‘There’s no range on them,’ Blowers tilts his head thoughtfully.

‘We’ll have to make do,’ I counter, ‘Blowers and Cookey, you two are on weapons detail. Get what you can, Darius you speak with the lads and make sure you got enough here for defence. Clarence, while they check the ground,’ I nod at Paula, ‘can you find a mechanic and see if we can get the Saxon back here.’

‘Yup, will do,’ he yawns, stretching two huge arms out either side of his body.

‘Another suggestion,’ Paula leans in, ‘Lilly here looks exhausted, she doesn't need to come with us. We’ll find a map and find our own way. I think she should stay here and rest.’

‘No I’m fine,’ Lilly says with a look of panic.

‘Paula’s right,’ Lani interrupts, ‘we’ll need you tonight so get some sleep.’

‘But…’

‘Lilly, we all know what we’re doing,’ Lani reassures her, ‘your brother will be okay for another few hours. You’re safe here so get cleaned up, eat and rest.’

‘Lani, can you show Lilly to our rooms at the top please,’ I say.

‘Will do.’

‘Okay, so the rough plan until Dave gets back is that Maddox leads against the gate guards, Paula and Roy at the rear, Clarence and the lads at the front. If…’ I pause and look round, ‘Dave and the others see anything that changes the plan we’ll go through it again later. Everyone happy?’

Nods all round, chairs scrape across the rough concrete floor and voices murmur in low tones, instructions and suggestions being passed round.

Another day and another round of problems but at least this time I didn’t have to deal with taking the fort back. Really, the very fact they took it back so easily is reassuring. The people here are capable to act without prompting but more than that, they learn each others’ strengths and weaknesses, and they work together.

Just watching them now; Maddox with Lenski and Sierra, Paula and Roy talking in muted tones, Clarence grinning at the Blowers and Cookey as they make a beeline for Lilly, Lani watching them with a bemused look on her face and then Dave staring back at me with that strange look he has sometimes.

Shrugging I turn and walk outside into the searing heat and blistering sunshine, squinting my eyes up at the deep blue sky. A deeper shade of blue than I have ever seen before, almost purple in hue but then I guess nightfall isn’t that far off now, an hour or two at the most.

Looking down, I settle on the groups moving around within the fort and the hastily erected tents sagging across the ground.

‘Penny for them,’ Lani speaks as softly as her tread stealing up on me.

‘More people and yet more people.’

‘And they’ll keep coming too,’ she replies, ‘to see the great Mr Howie and Dave.’

‘And the Chinese girl,’ I grin.

‘Thai, I’m not Chinese…can we get a sign or business cards or something?’

‘What like calling cards to leave after each scrap? Today you have been slaughtered by the following persons…’

‘Yeah,’ she nods, ‘perfect. You worried?’

‘About Nick? Yeah course I am.’

‘Me too, did you er…brush your teeth then?’

‘You know I did, at the safari place…with the soap?’

‘Oh right.’ She looks at me coyly as I feel her fingers entwining mine, ‘got five minutes then Mr Howie? I er…need to discuss some important strategy and tactics with you…’

‘Bloody right…’ Giggling like idiots, we rush away into one of the old store rooms and dart round behind the door. With my back to the wall Lani steps in, looking up at me underneath heavy eye lids, pink lips parting with a wry smile, our hands clasped together.

Her body feels warm and firm against mine, her teeth so white and even. The golden skin of her face is framed by silky, pitch black hair. Gently, we move closer until our lips are barely touching, that final act of hesitation done to increase the pleasurable tease of the initial contact. Her breath on my lips, her fingers squeezing tight.

‘Lani! Lani! Lani!’ Milly bursts in through the door, spinning round with a mischievous giggle. Meredith comes bounding in behind her, wagging her tail as she moves round the little girl.

‘Sorry,’ a woman comes running in, ‘I tried stopping her but she keeps running off.’

‘Yes, she does that,’ I laugh as Milly runs to hug Lani.

‘Lions and tigers and bears…’ Milly shouts.

‘OH MY!’ We both shout in chorus, exchanging rueful looks.

Forty Three

The sun is hot, very hot and sweat forms on his forehead. The fear and confusion is still there but the mind has defences against trauma, and it reaches a point where the images seen, the sounds heard and the memories recorded are buried deep to be dealt with later, or never at all.

Instead, Billy transforms quickly into an automaton, doing what he is told, going where he is instructed and drinking when water is given to him. His young mind shuts down, he doesn't speak unless spoken to, he doesn't so much as smile as move his lips in the formation of what a smile should be.

From the meal with the nice lady in the kitchen he is taken upstairs to meet the other children. Young faces staring at him with the same wide eyed looks of fear and confusion. Chatter from the youngest, boisterous swagger from the oldest, intent on dominating their environments. Some have been here for days, others like Billy, have just arrived and suffered the same overwhelming assault to the senses.

Ripped away from parents, siblings, guardians and even kind strangers caring for them, to be taken to this strange house where each was thoroughly examined by the tall doctor. Eating food with the nice woman, made to wash and get clean, then told to play and have fun but all the time watched by men with guns. Men that didn’t interact with them, men that stared with hard eyes and smoked cigarettes, men that had stale coffee breath and were covered in tattoos, men with scars and shaved heads.

Taken into a large play room and left, Billy remained still for long minutes. Watching the others watching him. All of them boys. Staring round he looked for girls as his mind instinctively sought the comfort and maternal instincts that only a girl can offer.

No girls. Just boys. Lots of boys with freshly scrubbed cheeks and dressed in freshly cleaned clothes. Some had bruises and cuts, evidence of the scrapes and dangers they suffered prior to their arrival.

Others are unblemished physically but their eyes show how injured they really are.

‘What’s your name?’ A bigger boy looms in front of Billy, his face a sneer of barely restrained temper.

‘Billy,’ he mutters quietly, his voice low and scared. Looking away from the bigger boy he stares at his feet sensing the immediate threat of a bully.

‘Silly Billy,’ the boy quips, ‘silly Billy.’

Lilly used to call him silly Billy, but then he’d call her silly Lilly so it didn’t matter. The words don’t bother him but the tone the boy uses is rough and harsh.

‘Silly Billy,’ the boy repeats and pushes Billy to in his chest forcing him back a step. ‘Are you a silly Billy?’ The boy shoves again.

Billy doesn't say anything. There isn’t anything to say. There are no adults in here, just lots of big chairs and lots of books, colouring pencils and brightly coloured toys strewn across the floor.

‘You’re boring,’ the bigger boy stalks off, kicking out at a Lego house painstakingly put together by a young boy with glasses. The bespectacled child reacts the same as Billy, staring forlornly at the broken house while waiting for the bigger boy to go away.

Billy shuffles forward a few steps. Reaching down he starts picking the plastic bricks up, gathering them into little piles of matching colours. Without speaking the child blinks behind his glasses and slowly moves round to sit next to Billy. Working together they start rebuilding the house, neither of them speaking but pushing red brick into red brick, then green into green and so on. Eyes down, hands busy, minds occupied with something they both recognise and understand.

‘Well well,’ the Doc bursts into the room with a flourish, ‘look at you all playing nicely.’ He stands tall, beaming down from his great height at the sullen faces. ‘Young Billy is already playing with Simon, making a Lego house? That’s great. Great work boys. Right who’s up for a swim in the river?’ He waits for a chorus of cheers that never comes. Ignoring the slight, he strides round the room towering over every child within.

‘Come on, come on,’ the Doc booms, ‘let’s get you into that refreshing water, eh?’ Cajoling the boys up to their feet and out the room, they traipse out under the watchful gaze of the armed guards. The guards avoid all eye contact, looking everywhere but at the children.

Those young boys that try to make eye contact, to reach out for a friendly older face, are rebuffed by that action alone. Not only under strict orders to avoid contact with the children, but all of the guards, as nasty and as rough as they may be, have an idea of what goes on behind the Doc’s closed door. The world has fallen but here there is food, shelter and weapons. The Doc has promised them a vaccine or a cure too and none of the boys look injured or hurt.

Word of Vince’s sudden and violent demise spread through the house like a dose of dysentery. Confusion and apprehension grew. The orders were clear; scavenge the houses in the allocated sectors, bring back the food and any boys they find. Whatever else they did, found, kept, took was down to them.

Those that did think of leaving kept the thoughts to themselves. Larson was friendly with all of them, plying them with treats and special privileges in exchange for whatever gossip or rumour was circulating.

For his part, Larson knew it was only a matter of time before they started haemorrhaging manpower. Yeah they had food, shelter and weapons but they needed the company of women too. Something the Doc had expressly forbidden with exception to Meryl.

Give and take. Larson knew the name of the game and was prepared to ride it out. He sensed the Doc would relent sooner or later about women being allowed here.

From his position at the front of the house, he watched the Doc march the boys past. The absurdly tall medical man was singing jovially as he jokes the boys into swinging their arms and stamping their feet. Awkward and uncomfortable, Larson can see the boys are too stunned to do anything other than what they are told.

Sighing deeply, he shrugs and strolls slowly after them, watching as they exit the back of the grand house and onto the manicured lawns heading down to the river. He knew what was coming next, he’d already seen it several times.

A look of distaste crosses his face. A man of very low principle and a born survivor he will do it takes to get by but still, some things just leave a nasty taste in the mouth.

‘That’s it my lovely boys, down we go…Afternoon Jacob!’ The Doc waves happily at one of the guards strolling towards them.

‘Afternoon Doc,’ Jacob nods before quickly turning away to scan the surrounding area, a wooden stocked rifle across his shoulders.

The Doc checks the rear area, the guards are posted where they should be; spread out and vigilant but not actually watching. The sun is shining, the weather glorious and hot.

‘Now boys,’ he brings them to a halt at the river’s edge, the glittering surface meandering by with a gentle eddy. Lower than it should be, the water has gradually fallen during the weeks of incredible heat, dwindling to a wide but relatively shallow stretch of beautiful crystal clear water. ‘We’re all boys together eh, so no shy boys here,’ he grins round at the gathered youths, ‘we don’t need trunks or shorts do we?’ He calls out, ‘fresh air and exercise is what we need! Lots of fresh air to our bodies, so come on, strip off and let’s get you into the water.’

Those here for longer start doing as bid; yanking tee-shirts off and shoving shorts down. The new children are slower to respond. Hesitant to the point of shyness.

‘Come on you lot,’ the Doc laughs, ‘we’re all men so don’t be shy, we’ve all got the same bits between our legs, haven’t we?’ Laughing, the Doc pulls his top off exposing his long, pale torso already smothered in thick white suncream. Dark, greying patches of hair line his chest and stomach and his arms are skinny but long with sinewy muscle. Clusters of thick dark moles stand proud of his skin and grinning he starts on his trousers, pulling first one leg out then the other before standing upright in a pair of pale blue y-fronts.

Silence for a second as he scans the boys already stripped off, hungry eyes lingering on the narrow chests and thin limbs of the youths.

‘Hang on,’ he holds one long bony finger up as though he suddenly thought of something very important, ‘have you all got suncream on? The sun is very dangerous you know … here, I brought some with me, come and get a dollop and get it rubbed in.’

Again, the boys already experienced at the daily river ordeal dutifully edge closer with hands stretched out waiting for the bottle of cream to be squeezed out.

Jacob turns slowly, his face dripping with sweat and from behind his dark glasses, he watches as the large group of boys all strip off. The Doc kneels down amongst them and even on his knees he towers over every single one of them. Those huge, meaty yet bony hands rub cream into the under-developed bodies of the young boys.

Like Larson and all of the carefully selected men, Jacob bites down the surge of revulsion at the sight. He knows what’s out there in the world, surely this is better for the kids? At least here they are physically safe, safe from bodily harm.

‘Billy,’ the Doc singles the young lad out with what he thinks is a humorous look, ‘come on you little monster, let’s get you all lathered up and protected from that sun, eh?’

Billy does as he is told, standing patiently while the Doc rubs cream into his chest, arms, back and legs. His dad used to do this, his mum too and sometimes Lilly. They were always worried about him getting burnt but then Mum would spend hours lying in the sun saying how nice it felt.

Mum never put suncream on his bottom though, neither did Dad or Lilly. But then he always wore shorts outside and was never nuddy. Nuddy was only for bath-time or in the shower.

‘Right,’ the Doc stands up suddenly, his face flushed and red, ‘into the water with you, come on, splash about and have some fun…last one in is a rotten egg!’

The boys watch as the Doc strides into the water. His legs long and thin like his arms, knotted with sinewy muscle. There’s a bulge in his pants now too. Some of the boys recognise this from seeing dads run to the bathroom first thing in the morning, others wonder what it is. The Doc seems to pay no attention, but runs in to the water splashing about while yelling out in apparent glee.

In they go, slowly at first but it is very hot and the water is lovely and cool. Even the worse conditions cannot suppress the natural ability of children to laugh and before long some of them, not all, but some of them splash and jump as they feel the effects of the gloriously cooling liquid.

Shallow at the sides but deeper towards the middle, the river’s current is gentle. Those that can swim lift their feet from the river bed and feel themselves being moved gently away.

The Doc darts about, wading through the water to grab at boys, heaving them up into the air as he forces them to have fun. He demands them to smile and laugh and all the time his thick, strong hands hold on just that bit longer than they need to, and that bulge stays in his pants.

‘Sir,’ Jacob walks closer to the river bank, calling out for the attention of the Doc while averting his eyes, finding something interesting just left of where the children were.

‘What is it Jacob?’ The Doc shouts with a grin. Jacob knows that grin is one step away from all out violence, and although the Doc is tall and rangy without proper arms training, his strength is awesome. Coupled with his explosive ability to get violent at the merest perceived slight, it makes him a very dangerous man and one to be extremely careful around.

‘Larson, Sir, he just radioed and said they found someone in the grounds nearby. Young lad apparently and er…they’re just bringing him in the front now.’

‘Another young lad eh? Well well, this is a prodigal day.’ The Doc swings a young boy over the surface of the water, making no effort to hide his erection.

‘Er…yes Sir,’ Jacob nods, prodigal? Doesn't he mean prodigious? Either way I’m not correcting him.

‘Tell Larson to keep the lad there, get him some food with our nice Meryl and I shall be along shortly.’

‘Sir, will do,’ Jacob hurries away a few metres fighting to keep his face a mask of neutrality. The Doc will find the cure, he will fix this and fix all of them. As soon as he has that vaccine or cure, Jacob is out of here. Middle of the night, grab a vehicle and drive, keep driving and get far away. For now though, there is no choice but to stay and entertain that sick fuckers depraved desires. At least he’s not hurting them, well not obviously anyway.

‘Weeeeee!’ The Doc yells. Grasping a young boy by the wrists he spins him round and round, knowing the angle of the youths face is eye-line with his crotch. Letting go quickly, the boy flies off to land with a splash in the middle of the river. The Doc already turning away to grab another one, urging the youngsters to climb on his back and play-fight.

‘Right, that’s me all done,’ he sighs theatrically, ‘I’m not as fit as you youngsters that’s for sure eh?’ Clambering out of the river he walks slowly to a large towel and starts patting himself dry, presenting himself face on to the boys still splashing in the river. ‘You stay here with Jacob and I’ll go meet our new boy shall I? Everyone having fun are they? What about you Billy? Settling in okay?’

It’s been a few hours at the very most. And in that time he has had his medical examination, had some food, meet the other boys and come out here for a swim. Settling in doesn't cut it, it doesn't come close to the shell-shocked manner of Billy and the rest.

Blithely carrying on, the Doc beams as though Billy just said he was having the best time of his life. A genuine belief that the boys are now happier than before. They probably all lived on shitty council estates with parents that hated them, on benefits and smoking dope all day. Bah! They’re going to be happy here and that’s for sure. Healthy food, lots of exercise and time to play, that’s what they need. They can run about in the fresh air and have their very own doctor on hand to keep checking them over.

The self-justification runs deep, the roots of the refusal to accept there is something wrong with him have taken hold in every part of his being. In his mind he is a doctor, he is a protector and his flaws – well they’re just the eccentricities of a brilliant mind.

‘Keep a good eye out Jacob,’ the Doc says, striding past with his clothes held under one arm.

‘Will do Sir.’ Jacob nods and makes a point of scanning the vista then focussing on the children in the river. With the Doc gone from the water the view isn’t offensive and in fact, the sight of children playing on a hot day is actually a nice thing to see. A thin smile threatens to tug at Jacob’s lips.

‘WHAT IS THAT?’ The Doc roars. Jacob spins round, his heart ramping from normal to racing within a split second. His hands grip the weapon, index finger extending for the trigger. Half way between Jacob and the house, two more guards undertake a patrol across the rear lawns. The Doc stands over them, glaring down with unremitting fury in his face.

Jacob winces at seeing one of the men trying to casually drop the still lit cigarette in a hopeful, but futile, attempt to hide it from the Doc.

‘I … WILL HAVE … ‘ The Doc speaks each word slow and loud, as though struggling to even speak with the rage pulsing from him, ‘NOONE SMOKING NEAR … THE CHILDREN!’ As he roars the last word, he steps in close pushing the other man back with his chest.

Jacob sees it coming well before it happens. The Doc’s long right arm crosses his waist and swings up and out with a vicious back-slap, connecting with the guards cheek. The noise snaps out clearly, a distinct crack. The guard is removed from his feet, spinning to one side as he sprawls out.

‘DOC … STOP…’ Larson bursts out from a set of rear doors, sprinting across the lawn as the Doc starts striding towards the downed man. In his panic he doesn't think to get up but starts crabbing back with a look of pure fear on his already bruised and rapidly swelling face.

‘NO SMOKING,’ the Doc reaches down with one smooth movement, gripping the man by the front of his shirt, he lifts him to his feet like a ragdoll. Jacob watches mesmerised at the strength in the man. There was no effort at all. He just bent over and picked him up, shaking him hard while the guard rattles and begs for forgiveness.

Reaching the scene Larson slows down, throwing quick, hard looks at the Doc, at Jacob, down to the boys in the river then at the guard being shaken by those two huge hands.

‘Doc, easy now… remember what we said?’

‘HE WAS SMOKING,’ the Doc screams, spittle flying from his mouth to coat the guard being held in his grip.

‘Okay, I understand and I’ll deal with it…just put him down now Doc… you’re er… well the kids look scared.’

Jacob holds his breath as everyone waits for the Doc’s reaction. Even mentioning the children in any negative sense is likely to cause an explosion of violence.

It works though, the Doc releases the man instantly. Turning to the river with a look of guilt he waves out, ‘it’s okay children, we’re only playing… ha! Grown-ups like to play too.’

‘Isn’t that right Rob?’ Larson glares at the guard just released, standing there looking terrified. He blinks slowly, first looking at Larson, then the Doc before seeming to see a light showing him a way out of this mess. One arm shoots up quickly, waving at the children and he forces himself to smile while ignoring the flare of pain across his face.

‘Just playing,’ Rob shouts out.

‘So, where’s this new lad then?’ The Doc turns to Larson like nothing just happened.

‘In here,’ Larson doesn't flinch but nods back to the house, ‘Rob, we’ll speak later, carry on your patrol but…’

‘I got it, sorry…I’m really sorry,’ Rob mutters quickly.

Jacob finally releases the breath being held as the Doc walks off with Larson, leaving Rob nursing a swollen face.

‘You alright?’ Jacob asks quietly once the Doc and Larson slip out of view into the house.

‘That fucking hurt,’ Rob hisses, ‘shit I think he fractured my cheek.’

‘Lucky he didn’t kill you mate, what the fuck Rob?’

‘I didn’t think mate. Fucking heat, fucking weather, fucking sweating and shit mate, how’s it look?’

‘Bad,’ Jacob nods quickly, ‘but for fuck’s sake just keep going, take a big loop and get some pain-killers on the way back.’

‘I feel sick Jacob.’

‘Rob, he catches you puking or fucking about he’ll kill you. Just swallow it down and get some Nurofen or something and stay out of his way.’

‘Okay,’ Rob breathes out.

‘Larson’ll get you on the gate later so you’re out of sight for a few hours.’

‘I fucking hate it here Jake.’ Jacob stiffens at the sight of tears pricking the others man’s eyes.

‘Stop it Rob…’

‘I can’t stay here Jake, this is fucked up… he’s a fucking psycho. Did you hear about Vince?’

‘Yeah,’ Jacob mutters, making a point of looking round in case he’s being watched, ‘but we ain’t got a choice have we mate. Everyone feels the same, we stay till we get the vaccine or a fucking cure then we go. Not now though, so don’t even look like you’re thinking anything.’

‘Them boys Jake,’ Rob shakes his head the tears streaming freely down his face now, ‘what’s he doing to them?’

‘Fuck off Rob,’ Jacob hisses, ‘you fuck off right now, don’t be a stupid cunt. Man up and deal with it, here take these and fucking go away.’ Jacob hands his sunglasses over, the harsh words seeming to bring some resolve to the shaken Rob. Slipping them on he grimaces, nods, then walks off to join his mate who quickly walked on.

‘He was found on the hill near the copse,’ Larson explains as they walk through the rear rooms, ‘young lad, on his own but he had one of our vans with him.’

‘What? He drove here?’ The Doc asks, confused at how a young boy can drive a big van. Must be a plucky little chap being able to do that.

‘Just in here.’ Larson steps ahead, opening an internal door to a small drawing room. Two men with guns stand either side of the door on the inside.

Striding in, the Doc nods politely at Nick then looks round with a slight look of puzzlement on his face.

‘Where is he then?’ He asks Larson.

‘That’ him,’ Larson nods at Nick.

‘Oh,’ the Doc looks crestfallen, his voice low and disappointed, ‘I thought you said a young lad.’

‘Oh right,’ Larson nods in understanding, ‘sorry Doc, my mistake. I meant a young lad like a young adult lad not a er…boy.’

‘Oh,’ the Doc sighs, ‘well we’re here now. What’s your name young man?’

‘Nick, Sir,’ Nick replies promptly. His face is devoid of expression at the sight of the exceptionally tall man walking in wearing nothing but underpants and dripping wet. He must have been swimming in the river with the children. He has long, grey, scraggly hair but Nick notices the tight muscles and quickly guesses the man must be very strong. There’s something else about him too, an energy coming off him. The two guards left in the room were reasonably relaxed a second ago, making small talk with Nick but now they’ve stiffened to attention and refuse to look at him.

‘Nice to meet you Nick. Everyone here calls me the Doc, seeing as I’m a Doctor that’s rather apt wouldn’t you say?’

‘Of course, Sir,’ Nick nods firmly.

‘This is Larson and the other two are…er…well anyway, so what brings you here Nick?’

‘Me, Sir?’ Nick adjusts his position, ‘I was er, well I was saying to those blokes that I found one of your men I think, he’d been bitten, Sir, by one of the zombies. He was in a bad way but told me to take the van and come here. I er…I got lost though and stopped for a piss when they found me,’ Nick nods at the two men, both of them nodding in agreement but doing so at Larson, not at the Doc.

‘Well, got bit did he,’ the Doc takes a seat opposite Nick. Easing his big frame into an armchair, he casually crosses his legs, putting one ankle over the other knee while he thinks. ‘Bad luck that’s for sure,’ the Doc nods, ‘where did he get bitten?’

‘In the town, Sir,’ Nick replies instantly, knowing the man means where on his body but wanting to appear nice and thick.

‘Ha!’ The Doc chuckles, ‘I meant where on his body?’

‘Sorry Sir, er…on his leg Sir. It was a deep bite I reckon he had about two minutes, maybe a couple, more before he turned.’

‘Yes quite,’ the Doc affects a cultured voice, ‘indeed well, these things will happen but a shame nonetheless, he was a great man.’

‘There were two with the van Doc,’ Larson cuts in, ‘Nick here says he didn’t see the other man.’

‘Really?’ The Doc looks up, nodding thoughtfully, ‘well I dare say something happened and he ran off or got bitten himself.’

‘Possibly,’ Larson nods.

‘Well Nick, thank you for bringing our van back, really, very kind of you. So tell me, where are you going?’

‘Nowhere Sir,’ Nick replies, ‘I was just moving about trying to stay away from them, er…finding food and shelter, maybe somewhere safe to be…that kind of thing.’

‘You’re dressed like a squaddie,’ Larson remarks casually, ‘were you serving?’

‘No Sir, I just joined when it happened er…like the first training weekend Sir,’ Nick gives the truth.

‘Ah,’ Larson nods, ‘so you got the kit but not the training right?’

‘That’s right Sir, Salisbury Sir…whole place was infected so I just legged it and been running ever since. Had a few scrapes here and there as you can tell from my er…’

‘Yes quite,’ the Doc says looking in distaste at the blood and filth stained clothes Nick is wearing. ‘You’ve done well though, staying alive I mean,’ the Doc asks.

‘Guess so Sir,’ Nick nods.

‘We’ve got an unusual establishment here Nick,’ the Doc puts on that refined voice again, settling back into his chair with his hands together in front like offering a prayer, ‘a safe place that’s for sure. We haven’t had any contact with the infected here, but what we have got is lots of children. We gather them up you see Nick. Larson and I send our men out to scavenge the houses for food and are under instruction to bring back any lost children they find on the way.’

‘Right Sir, that’s very good of you.’

‘Yes Nick, you see we believe in the sanctity of childhood here Nick. I’m er, well currently working on a cure for the infection, maybe a vaccine, and it is my plan to administer the cure to the children first. They are the future Nick.’

‘Yes Sir,’ Nick nods affably.

‘We have plenty of food, some generators for power, fresh running water and security for the boys. The duties are relatively easy, wouldn’t you say chaps?’ The Doc smiles at the two armed men standing by the door.

‘Very much Sir,’ they both nod enthusiastically.

‘Duties Sir?’ Nick asks with a puzzled expression.

‘I think what the Doc means,’ Larson cuts in, ‘is that we’ve obviously lost two men from that van and we’ve had another slight issue resulting in one other being taken from us.’ Nick watches the exchange of looks between Larson and the Doc, ‘so we’re offering you a chance to stay with us. You work here and we give you food and shelter.’

‘Oh right, well yeah that’s great,’ Nick nods with a big smile.

‘Course we don’t know you,’ Larson continues, ‘so you’ll be put with someone else for now until we know we can trust you. Basic duties at first then,’ Larson tilts his head side to side, ‘if you show promise then we can see about adding to your duties. The ultimate goal for our men is to be on the scavenging crews, they get to go out and find food, find children and er…well whatever else they get up to out there is down to them, if you catch my drift?’

‘Yes Sir,’ Nick nods and smiles again.

‘Right well nothing else for me here,’ the Doc stands up quickly, obviously bored. He nods at Nick before walking towards the door, ‘do you smoke Nick?’

‘Smoke Sir, yes I do,’ Nick replies.

‘We have rules here. Do not engage with the children unless you have my direct consent, do not smoke near them or in sight of them, do not smoke in the house, do not swear in the house or near the children, understood?’

‘Of course,’ Nick nods. Bloody hell, no smoking and no swearing, this could be a very long day. Hope to fuck the others get here quickly.

‘I’ll be upstairs Larson, got some studies to undertake, tell me Nick,’ the Doc pauses at the door, ‘do you know anyone called Mr Howie?’

‘Mr, who, Sir?’ Nick asks with a blank stare, fully aware of the penetrating gaze fixed on him from Larson.

‘Never mind, all yours Larson.’ Closing the door behind him the Doc exits the room, still dressed in his underpants but thankfully without the erection this time.

‘Carry on gents,’ Larson nods at the two armed guards visibly relaxing with the Doc leaving the room.

‘See ya Nick,’ one of them nods as they walk out.

‘Later mate,’ Nick calls out. Remaining seated, he watches the door close again then switches his gaze to Larson. That same penetrating stare, like he can see something inside.

‘Drink, Nick?’ Larson changes instantly, morphing into a friendly man with a natural easy smile.

‘Wouldn’t mind,’ Nick nods happily. A cure? The Doc in his underpants said he was working on a cure, maybe a vaccine. Shit. Mr Howie is likely to send Dave in first and Dave won’t discriminate. He’ll know Nick is inside and will kill everything that stands in his way, including the Doctor.

‘Something on your mind son?’ Larson asks with a concerned look at Nick.

‘Eh? No er… just er…you know.’

‘What?’ Larson asks.

‘Er, you know,’ Nick nods, ‘he was in his er… pants.’

‘Oh that!’ Larson laughs, shaking his head he walks behind Nick, opening cupboard doors to reveal well stocked shelves of soft drinks and bottled water. ‘You’ll get used to the Doc Nick, he is a strange one but er… well, if he gets this cure for us then…’

‘Oh definitely,’ Nick agrees, ‘sorry I was just like, fuck…shit! Sorry, I didn’t mean to swear.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Larson laughs again, ‘it’s only the Doc you’ve got to worry about, the rest of us are easy going but listen up Nick, the Doc has a er…well let’s call it a temper problem, which can erupt like the proverbial Mount Vesuvius, and at anything too.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Seriously, I only say this as when he goes, he has a habit of lashing out, he’s a big man and doesn't know his own strength.’ Pausing at the open doors Larson looks back at Nick, ‘do what he says, don’t smoke or swear and don’t talk to the children.’

‘Got it,’ Nick nods.

‘Water or something sugary Nick?’

‘Sugary please mate.’

‘Coming up.’

‘So how many kids have you got here?’ Nick asks casually.

‘Twenty two and we get more nearly every day too. All boys, no girls and all from ages five to eleven.’

‘Oh.’

‘Oh indeed Nick, don’t ask. Don’t question it, don’t look at it, don’t think about it,’ Larson speaks fast as he opens two cans of Dr Pepper, ‘you’ll see weird stuff but show no reaction, do what you’re told and you’ll be looked after. We got food, drink, enough cigarettes and tobacco to open a cash and carry warehouse and hopefully soon we’ll get some women here too.’

‘That’s always a good thing,’ Nick smiles at the right point.

‘Here,’ Larson hands him the can, drinking from his own the standing man looks round the room, waiting for Nick to take his first sip.

Holding the can to his lips Nick feels first the warm syrupy liquid gushing into his mouth. Suddenly, a cold, sharp blade presses against his throat. Freezing mid-gulp he holds position, not daring to move. His intelligent mind frantically goes through the conversation and what was said to trigger this reaction.

‘We’ve got a good thing here Nick,’ Larson whispers in his ear, ‘and no one is going to fuck it up, do you understand? Don’t nod or you’ll cut your own throat open. It was a rhetorical question. The Doc gets mad, he kills men nearly every day, he’s already killed the one who brought young Billy back earlier.’

The name, Billy. Larson must know the connection but how? With the knife pressed so hard Nick can’t move but holds stock still, waiting for the man to keep speaking.

‘But the Doc isn’t the only to watch Nick. I’m here all the time and I never lose my temper. I watch and I listen and when the time is right in my mind, I move fast and without hesitation. Now, the Doc asked you if heard of Mr Howie. You said no, didn’t you Nick? Only I swear I saw a little reaction in your face, a twitch, an absence of a twitch, fuck who cares, but it was there alright. I don’t who Mr Howie is, we’ve heard about him and his men and I couldn’t give a toss what he does, but what I do care about is why you would feel the need to lie.’

That was it. The too natural forced reaction when the Doc asked him. Larson is sharp, sharper than this knife pressed to his throat.

‘So Nick, just you and me now big boy and you are going to tell me exactly what you know,’ the knife is removed, a flick-blade retracted back into the handle as Larson takes his can, sips and strolls round to sit down in the armchair vacated by the Doc.

Nick swallows and breathes out, blinking hard he puts the can down to rest on one knee.

‘Like I said Nick, I don’t care about this Mr Howie or what he does, I just want to know why you lied.’

‘I didn’t,’ Nick blurts out, ‘I don’t know anyone by that name.’ An instinct tells Nick to maintain the story, that to give an inch now will bring disastrous results.

‘Don’t believe you,’ Larson says quietly with a wry smile.

‘Sorry,’ Nick shrugs, ‘I can’t make something up…I don’t know him, never heard of him? Who is he?’

‘You tell me,’ Larson prompts.

‘I don’t know,’ Nick shakes his head, ‘sorry mate.’

‘You hearing me okay Nick?’ Larson leans forward, fixing his dark eyes on Nick. Unblinking, stern, focussed and utterly in control, ‘I don’t care who he is, I don’t care what he does, I just want to know why you lied about knowing who he is.’

‘I didn’t mate,’ Nick sighs. ‘It’s hot, I’m fucking tired and hungry, I got lost and fuck… I’m in here with a huge, almost naked man asking me if I know someone. Shit mate, sorry if I looked the wrong way or something but,’ he shrugs again, staring back at Larson.

Larson jumps to his feet, the movement fluid swift and fast. Knife out, blade glinting in the sunlight which is streaming through the window. He doesn't say anything but advances slowly, the knife held at waist height.

‘Shit mate, put that fucking thing away,’ Nick blanches, ‘I don’t know Mr fucking Howard or whoever the fuck he said.’

‘Where did you come from?’ Larson asks quickly.

‘What?’ Nick stares in confusion, ‘the town where I found your man…’

‘Before that,’ Larson motions with the knife, ‘quick now Nick, where were you before that?’

‘North,’ Nick shrugs, ‘I told you, I was at Salisbury when it happened. I went north thinking the land would be fucking open and less towns but it’s all shit so I started heading south again.’

‘Why? Answer me Nick,’ Larson demands, that gaze unflinching.

‘I’m from Hampshire,’ Nick blurts, ‘near Winchester so was heading that way, got no other place to fucking go.’

‘Family?’

‘None.’

‘None?’

‘No, none. No brothers, no sisters. Grandparents died, dad fucked off when I was a kid so just me and Mum…but she’s a fucking bitch so…’

‘So why go back Nick? Why head this way? This isn’t the way to Winchester.’

‘I was north of that town,’ Nick talks quickly, staring at the knife and noticing the steady hand that holds it, ‘in the countryside but I got hungry and dirty so went into town to get stuff, found your bloke and here I am.’

‘Met many people?’

‘No, kept myself to myself.’

‘Really Nick? A lone wolf traipsing through the countryside, surviving rather well by the looks of it, yet you happen to find one of my men having been bitten and decide to honour his dying request by bringing his van back to us.’

‘Yes!’ Nick exclaims. ‘That’s exactly it, well not the honouring him bit, no offence but I didn’t know him. I’m hungry, lonely and it’s fucking frightening out there…’

‘So you came here?’

‘Yes,’ Nick nods.

‘But you got lost did you?’ Larson pulls a pouty face, ‘got lost in the van and couldn’t find the fucking big house marked on the map in said van.’

‘Fuck’s sake,’ Nick groans.

‘What?’

‘I can’t read or write. I can’t read a fucking map, I was guessing. I know what the word Winchester looks like so I was hoping to see it on a signpost.’

‘What? Fuck off! There isn’t anyone left these days that can’t read or write.’

‘Dyslexia,’ Nick looks down at the ground, ‘like really fucking bad Dyslexia, the army was about the only job I’d get, no one else would hire me.’

‘What did you join?’

‘Infantry, the exams are the easiest.’

‘You talk alright,’ Larson says.

‘I’m dyslexic not a fucking spastic,’ Nick retorts, ‘I’m good with electrical stuff, mechanical stuff, engines and things like that but…’

‘But you can’t read or write?’

‘No,’ shaking his head he stares away from Larson.

‘So you don’t have any allegiance to anyone? Not missing say…a brother or something and come looking for him?’

‘No,’ Nick repeats.

‘You killed Nick?’

‘Yes,’ Nick replies instantly, staring back up at Larson with his own dark, focussed stare.

‘Oohh, you didn’t ask whether I meant zombie or human.’

‘Both.’

‘Zombies are easy,’ Larson shrugs, ‘but people Nick, people are living, they fight back, they scream and shout and are unpredictable, yet here you are claiming to have killed them. Who did you kill Nick?’

‘One man, stabbed him. He found me sleeping and tried to take my food. Stabbed him through the chest and kept stabbing until he didn’t move anymore.’

‘Okay, and the zombies? How many of them you killed?’

Oh mate, you have no fucking idea. ‘A few, during the day when it first happened and they were slow, hid at night then they got quick in the day so I hid then too.’

‘Any good with a weapon?’

‘What kind?’

‘Firearms?’

‘Not really, shotguns are easy but er…didn’t get that far in basic training.’

‘Hand weapons?’

‘Okay,’ Nick shrugs again, ‘my kills came from knives so…’

Larson doesn't speak but stares, holding Nick’s gaze with a level look. A light starts to dawn in Nick’s mind, a sensation, maybe an instinct or a prickling of an idea. They haven’t checked him over, not asked him to strip off to be checked for bites or cuts. The questions thrown at him by Larson are straightfoward, bloody hell even Cookey could talk his way out of this. That stare Larson keeps giving. That’s all he has. Just that hard look. Hold his stare and he’ll believe anything. Incompetent and running on blind luck that they’ve found a place so isolated the undead simply haven’t come this way.

The gate guards were behind sandbags for fuck’s sake. Like sandbags are going to stop a swarm of charging undead pumped to the eyeballs with whatever chemicals the infection is using to drive them. The distance from the main gate to the house is too big, if the gate is overrun there is no way of getting re-enforcements to them. The walls surrounding the house looked high but again would pose no challenge. Nick could scale them easily enough which means anyone could.

Even here, with armed men walking about, the house is wide open with the Doc walking about in his underpants fresh from swimming in a river with a bunch of little boys.

Don’t question it, don’t look at it, don’t think about It, that’s what Larson said. A grown man swimming in his pants with little boys taken from their families, and we’re not supposed to question it? Larson also said the scavenge crews can do what they like once they’re out of here, which means they effectively had permission to rape and kill the way they did with Lilly and her family.

The serenity of the place, the quietness of the area, the rich furnishings of wonderful opulence all dulled his mind into thinking this actually might be a decent place.

Rotten to the core, and run by a bunch of idiots getting by on luck and violence for the benefit of a doctor promising them a cure on the basis that he can fiddle with small children.

All of this swims through Nick’s mind. The neural pathways of his brain might be wired slightly differently to others, the ability to recognise and learn the written word somehow doesn't work in his head, but he is very intelligent and highly savvy with a keen instinct for human nature.

He had fourteen days of dealing with the most extreme of situations and all the time watching, learning, absorbing. Seeing the sheer, unadulterated effort and depth of planning that Mr Howie applies to everything they do. How he thinks, weighs options, listens and watches and then decides for the benefit of everyone.

Larson holds that stare while Nick blankly looks on. All these thoughts whirl within a split second, a sub-conscious conclusion is drawn but he doesn't show it, he remains passive and hoping he appears to be the slightly daft, affable lad he looks like.

‘I’m happy,’ Larson nods at length, ‘you seem the right person for us Nick.’ A firm nod and Larson extends a hand, offering an equally firm grip, ‘you’ll fit in well here son, good to have you on board. Sorry about the questioning but you just never know and it pays to be vigilant. The Doc does what he can to fix this and I make sure the place is safe.’

Utter fool. You are a complete fucking tool mate.

‘Yeah sure,’ Nick nods, ‘I understand completely, I’m er…just glad you’re happy to have me.’

‘More than happy Nick,’ Larson nods again with a sincere look, ‘I was in the services, a few of our blokes were too but er, well I can’t really say what I did in the army you know son, classified and all that,’ he winks quickly.

Classified? Now? After all this going on? Dave doesn't even try and hide what he did now and talks quite openly about it, and he’s more Autistic than Rain-Man.

‘Wow,’ Nick nods in admiration, ‘sounds intense mate.’

‘Yeah, let’s just say I saw things … did things … went places, you get me?’

‘Yeah sure,’ Nick keeps the nod going staring in admiration and awe at the older man.

‘Right, come with me Nick,’ Larson leads them out of the room, across the hall and through the kitchen, introducing him briefly to Meryl, before leading Nick through the back doors and out onto the rear lawns. ‘I’ve got things to do,’ Larson explains, ‘I’ll get you paired up with Jacob, he’s been here for a while and is a good hand. Jacob! This is Nick, he just joined us.’

‘Nick,’ Jacob nods in serious greeting.

‘Hello mate,’ Nick holds his hand out to shake.

‘He’s all cleared,’ Larson explains to Jacob, ‘been through the Q and A session with him, passed with flying colours. Stick with him, show him the ropes and I’ll see you both later.’

‘Okay,’ Jacob mutters.

‘Where’s your glasses?’ Larson asks, noticing the armed guard squinting in the sun.

‘Gave them to Rob, his face was swelling up.’

‘Good thinking, we’ll rotate him onto the gate in a minute. Keep an eye on those kids and get some coffee when they go back inside.’

‘Will do,’ Jacob nods, standing quietly he watches Larson retreat back into the house before eyeing Nick warily for a few seconds. Seemingly satisfied, he turns back to stroll towards the river bank.

‘Doc tell you about the kids?’

‘Er yeah,’ Nick replies, ‘something about don’t talk to them, don’t like engage or…’

‘Yep, don’t do anything. Just stand here and keep watch. Larson tell you about the Doc’s temper?’

‘Yeah but fuck that mate, he said he’s getting a cure ready.’

‘Don’t swear Nick,’ Jacob warns quickly.

‘There’s no one here.’ Nick looks round at the wide open lawn leading down to the river bank, the house well out of ear shot.

‘Doesn't matter, just don’t do it.’

‘Okay, sorry Jacob.’

‘For your sake Nick, not mine, come on,’ the older man walks steadily towards the river bank and the children now moving about quietly without the Doc’s perverted exuberance making them jump about. ‘He’s working on something, don’t know what, but he keeps saying he’s getting closer. I heard he was on about identifying what kind of virus it is today, telling Larson about different types of pathogens and things, clever bloke.’

‘Yeah definitely,’ Nick nods unsure of what to do with his hands after two weeks of carrying a weapon everywhere. To hide his fidgets he shoves them into his pockets, feigning a young lads slouch instead. ‘These the boys then?’ Nick nods at the youths.

‘They are,’ Jacob sighs, ‘don’t look at them Nick, look round them, look through them, look to the sides and beyond but don’t look at them.’

‘Why not?’

‘Cos the Doc gets angry if you do, he already broke a man’s cheek today.’

‘Shit really?’ Nick asks in surprise, wondering why this man is opening up to him. Jacob doesn't know if Nick is a stooge, a real new comer or anything else. He looks troubled though, troubled and deeply worried with big, heavy bags under his bloodshot eyes.

‘There’s quite a few,’ Nick comments making a point of turning to scan the area.

‘Over twenty now and we get more every day.’

‘Just boys though?’

‘Yep.’

‘Why boys? Why not girls?’

‘He likes boys,’ Jacob says darkly, a fleeting shadow crossing his face.

‘Oh,’ Nick says as if only just realising, ‘oh shit, really? Like… you mean he likes boys?’

‘We just guard,’ Jacob ignores the question, ‘and that’s it. Look Nick,’ Jacob glances at the young lad, ‘world’s fucked innit. Everything, everyone, we’re lucky to be somewhere like this,’ Nick watches the man attempt to justify it and can sense the turmoil within him.

‘You er, you go out on these scavenges then?’ Nick asks as a way of changing the conversation.

‘Sometimes,’ Jacob replies slowly, ‘some of the blokes love it, they empty the houses and do all sorts of things, come back and boast about it at night when we have a few drinks.’

‘What sort of things?’ Nick asks with a grin.

‘Use your imagination, there ain’t no women here Nick so the blokes got to find what they can.’

‘Oh, fuck…that’s bad,’ Nick says hoping he’s judged it right.

‘Not my thing,’ Jacob says quickly, ‘I like women, don’t get me wrong but…’

‘Why no women? Is that another one of the Doc’s rules?’

‘Yep,’ Jacob sighs again. Rubbing his stubbled chin, he checks the boys playing in the river and smiles briefly, an act noticed by Nick but left unremarked upon.

‘What did you do before this?’ Nick asks casually. The itch for a cigarette is starting, his hands keep twitching to draw the packet from his pocket.

‘Had a building firm a few years back but lost it when the recession hit. I was labouring here and there, fucking handyman cutting grass. Missus left a couple of years ago, took our boy and went home.’

‘Home?’

‘Polish, from Poland,’ Jacob adds needlessly.

‘How old is your son?’

‘Eight,’ Jacob growls.

Nick glances at the boys in the water then at Jacob, understanding where the conflict comes from. Not just something disgusting that has to be tolerated but something the man can relate to, his own child being the same age as those under the care of the paedophile doctor.

‘Sorry mate,’ Nick mutters, ‘you er… thought about trying to find them?’

‘Course,’ Jacob nods, ‘look forget it Nick, this ain’t your concern.’

‘Sorry Jacob, didn’t mean to piss you off.’

‘Stop swearing.’

‘Sorry.’

‘What you smiling at?’

‘You reminded me of someone else, they were always telling me off for swearing too.’ Staring at the man, Nick feels an instinct forming, a confidence to push further. ‘Can I ask you a question Jacob?’

The older man looks at him, an expression of almost pleading etched onto his weathered face, pleading that the young man stops now before it gets too painful.

‘Why do you stay?’ Nick asks quietly.

‘I’m loyal to the Doc,’ Jacob says quickly, ‘I just want to do my job and that’s it.’

‘Yeah course,’ Nick winces thinking that he pushed it too far too quickly.

An uneasy silence descends between them. Nick’s confused at why the man stays when he could just take off and try find his family, why be here watching this happen?

Exhaling another deep breath, Jacob steps in closer and speaks in a low voice, ‘he doesn't hurt them,’ he says quickly, ‘I ain’t seen no bruises or anything, they’re quiet and like, you know subdued but shit, what else do you expect. I think he just likes looking at them.’

‘Fucking sick,’ Nick mutters.

‘It is, but there’s worse that can happen Nick, you understand yeah? He could be raping ‘em or hurting ‘em, but I don’t think so, he just gets ‘em to strip off and stand there while he exams them. He swims with ‘em every day with a hard on in his pants.’

‘Stop,’ Nick urges feeling the first surge of anger coursing up.

‘Listen Nick, if he gets a cure that can save everyone, if he gets a cure or a vaccine I can take it with me and find my son, save him you know? And like I said he ain’t hurting ‘em, not physically.’

‘What if he did?’ Nick asks quickly, ‘what if he was hurting them, what would you do?’

Jacob stares back with genuine pain in his eyes, ‘I’m loyal Nick, I just want to do my job.’

‘What would you do Jacob?’

‘Your hear me nipper? I’m loyal see, I don’t want no trouble from anyone.’

‘Okay Jacob.’

‘How old are you? What twenty? Twenty-One?’

‘Something like that,’ Nick replies looking at the children.

‘You seem older,’ Jacob remarks, ‘a lot older.’

‘Hard life,’ Nick grins quickly.

‘I don’t know what I’d do,’ Jacob says quickly, his eyes locked on Nick, ‘I know what I’d want to do but…’

‘Yeah.’

‘No, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m talking bollocks, this heat yeah? Makes you say weird things.’

‘Don’t worry Jacob, I won’t say anything I promise.’ Nick can feel the desperation and fear coming from the armed guard. He looks so stoic and unflappable but is clearly crumbling inside.

‘He’s coming,’ Jacob changes instantly. Standing straight, he assumes the poker faced look with almost expert precision. Nick doesn't turn immediately but quickly removes his hands from his pockets to hold them together in front. Adopting the same serious expression he scans the area, viewing the hill that he and Lilly were hiding on just a little while ago.

Did she get away okay? As long as she makes the fort and finds the boss then everything will be okay. That kiss, what was all that about? Offering herself like that so he would help her.

‘WHERE’S MY LOVELIES!’ The Doc’s voice booms out across the lawn. Dressed in clothes again he strides towards the river completely ignoring Nick and Jacob as he walks past.

Grinning with genuine belief that the children will be happy to see him, he badgers and jokes them out of the water, urging them to run around on the lawn so the sun can dry their bodies.

Nick watches the glint in his eye, the way he leers at the wet bodies. All the boys’ underpants, which are now soaked through from the river, have become effectively see-through.

It’s sickening and repulsive. What should be a happy sight of children having fun, is destroyed by the perverted lust evident on the Doctors face. His long, gangly frame lolloping behind the boys as he gently slaps bottoms and scoops them up to hold for a few seconds.

The size of the man and his exuberance makes the children meek in his presence, the very essence of childhood seems to fade from them as though too afraid or too cowed to reveal any character or personality. The sight makes Nick think of Nazi’s and how they cowed people into submission, that the mere presence of them, the power they gave off, was enough to subdue the masses.

‘Look away,’ Jacob whispers, jolting Nick to turn quickly and make a point of scanning the back of the house.

On the pretence of turning slowly, Nick gains glimpses of the Doctor rounding the children up. He gets them into two lines with the smallest at the front, clearly a feeble excuse that gives him reason to physically move them into place, rubbing his hands over their bare skin. With a loud, jovial order he leads them off at the march, shouting “one-two, left-right” while comically swinging his long arms.

Only it isn’t comical. Sinister is the word. Perverted. Nick swallows the surge of anger down again. Not yet. Wait for the others.

The Doc marches the children across the lawn and through rear doors into the grand mansion house, leaving Jacob visibly relaxing as his shoulders sag, his face suddenly looking ten years older.

‘Coffee,’ the guard mutters. Nick follows him across the short grass to the side of the house and through a service door. From the bright sunshine into a gloomy room, Nick blinks to adjust his vision, aware of the murmur of low adult male voices.

Men are sitting in easy chairs, on benches and old wooden dining  chairs. All of them sipping from old, faded, chipped mugs. The stench of coffee, stale body odour, unwashed bodies hangs in the air. Tobacco too, but not from being smoked. The men here have smoked somewhere else and brought the smell in with them.

Tattoo’s, heads that were once shaved short but now growing longer from the lack of clippers and power to run them. Thick arms, thick necks and broken teeth. Tough men from hard backgrounds, gnarled hands used to physical labour. Lean men with hard stares, the type that Nick used to see propping up the bars at the local pub.

Jacob nods as he walks in but doesn't stop to engage in conversation, instead heading to the far end where he checks the water temperature in a large pan by sticking his finger in.

‘Just boiled Jake,’ a man calls out then quickly goes back to his conversation. A few glances at Nick but nothing of interest. Drink the coffee, guard the house, protect the children and go out to rape and kill who you want.

They were in the old servants quarters with stone walls and small windows. Nick stands near Jacob watching him making drinks while discreetly looking round the room. Eight men in here. There will probably be a few more patrolling, plus the ones on the gate and others out scavenging houses.

‘Got a few men here then,’ Nick remarks casually.

‘About twenty, maybe twenty five,’ Jacob replies, ‘get a new one every couple of days and we lose one every couple of days too. Quite a few today from what I’ve heard.’

Twenty five. That’ll keep Dave busy for all of five minutes. Nick looks away with a fleeting vision of these chatting men having their throats cut open within the next few hours.

‘We’ll go outside.’ Jacob picks the two steaming mugs up, once again leading Nick through the room and out into the sunshine, ‘can’t smoke in the house,’ he adds over his shoulder.

Outside, they cross the path and skirt round the offside of a low outbuilding. Several garden chairs gather round a plant pot full of cigarette butts. Taking a seat, Jacob passes one steaming mug over to Nick before easing himself over to one side as he works to free a pack of smokes from his pocket.

Nick is a step ahead of him. He’s gagging for a smoke and it’s in his mouth, lit and inhaled before Jacob has even got his packet out.

‘Cheers,’ Nick lifts his mug.

‘Alright,’ Jacob sighs again, something he keeps doing. They were the sighs of a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Stretching his legs out, Jacob lights his cigarette and closes his eyes, drawing deeply before blowing it away.

‘They seem alright,’ Nick remarks, working to keep his tone casual.

‘Few are,’ Jacob coughs from the harshness of the cigarette smoke, ‘I’ll point the decent ones out as we go round.’

‘Yeah cheers,’ Nick nods taking a seat opposite Jacob. ‘This is alright,’ he looks round at the chairs, ‘nice little smoking area.’

‘Larson,’ Jacob says dully, ‘he talks the Doc round on a few things. We can have a couple of beers in the evening as long as we ain’t on the guard rota, but don’t get pissed and don’t get noisy.’

‘Got it.’

They sip at the black coffee and smoke cigarettes. Nick looks about but keeps glancing back at the other man, seeing the worry on his face, the way he holds himself tucked in, the eyes staring out blankly.

‘What’s your son called?’

‘Eh?’ Jacob looks up quickly, ‘oh er…Lucas.’

‘Nice name,’ Nick nods, ‘they went to Poland then you said?’

‘Yeah,’ Jacob nods. A few seconds of silence pass before he speaks again, ‘we were alright you know, like we were getting on okay but times were hard and she missed her family. We kept in contact, phoning and Skyping every day, I was going to go out there and see her next week but…’

Staying quiet, Nick sips at his coffee and lights another cigarette, letting his ears and senses settle to the background noises the way Dave showed them all. Listening without listening.

‘Happened didn’t it,’ Jacob offers a grim smile.

‘You can still go there, plenty of cars about and the channel isn’t that wide from Dover,’ Nick says quietly.

‘Yeah, like I said, I’m loyal here and I want to do my job.’

‘Course,’ Nick mutters.

‘You know where they are?’

‘In Poland? Yeah course, been there a few times.’

‘You know the way then?’

‘I do.’ Jacob stares across at Nick, not the same stare offered by Larson, but a quiet thoughtful look. ‘What about you nipper? Where you from?’

‘Just outside Winchester,’ Nick repeats what he said earlier, ‘just joined the army when it happened, was on the first weekend training thing. Legged it from Salisbury then just kept going, found the van then…’

‘The van?’ Jacob asks with a puzzled glance. Nick relays the story given to Larson and the others, keeping the facts brief and re-telling it casually.

‘John and Terry,’ Jacob nods, ‘tattoo’s on his hands yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ Nick replies, ‘they mates of yours?’

‘Them two? No.’

‘Ah right, you said some are to be avoided.’

‘They are and them pair were arseholes. Vince and Derek too, mind you, Vince weren’t that bad but Derek was a nasty bit of work. The Doc did Vince in earlier.’

‘What for?’ Nick remembers the man he shot calling out for Vince.

‘No idea, he doesn't need a reason.’

‘You think there’s other places than this?’ Nick asks lightly.

‘Guess so,’ Jacob mutters, ‘but have they got a doctor with a cure?’

‘Probably not,’ Nick concedes.

‘Thing is,’ Jacob leans forward, dropping his voice after quickly checking all around, ‘I don’t know anything about science but I saw programmes on telly, all with test tubes and computers, microscopes and people in white suits in labs and stuff, but we don’t have any of that here. Nothing, no equipment, no lab or anything. You know,’ Jacob drops his voice even lower, ‘we don’t even have any of them things here, you know, to get samples from or test or something. Maybe I watched too many movies but surely you gotta have the actual disease or virus or whatever it is to examine and how do you examine it without equipment?’

‘Dunno,’ Nick whispers, ‘big house though, maybe he’s got some stuff tucked away.’

‘Nah, I been in every room. We have to do a daily check and I don’t go out scavenging see. Larson likes me so he gets me to do things like that. No lab, no equipment. Mind you though Nick, I’m loyal see, I’m not saying the Doc don’t know what he’s doing, not at all, you know…’

‘Jacob, don’t worry,’ Nick urges softly, ‘I won’t repeat a word you tell me, not to Larson or anyone, you got my word on that mate.’

‘Forget it,’ Jacob sits back with a look of mild panic on his face, ‘heat innit, gets to your head and makes you say stupid things. I’m loyal Nick, loyal see. I won’t upset anyone or do anything stupid. I like it here.’

He knows he’s stepped too far now and panics, trying to take it back, worried that Nick will report him to Larson, or worse yet the Doc. The young lad seems different though and he’s got a hard look about him, something trustable and decent.

‘So how’s he finding a cure then?’ Nick asks trying to bring the conversation back.

Jacob shrugs, already worried he’s gone too far. ‘Another coffee Nick?’

‘Yeah please, er… what now? I mean, what we got to do now?’

‘Nothing, just be here. Someone else is on patrol for a bit, we get another turn later but right now, we just sit down and drink coffee.’

‘Sounds good to me,’ Nick smiles.

‘We’ll have a walk round in a bit.’ Jacob stands and pauses for a second as if he wants to say something, then changes his mind, offering a grim smile instead.

‘I’ll come with you.’ Nick gets up to walk with him, suddenly aware that the conversation they just had might be repeated by Jacob. If he is really worried about being seen as disloyal then snitching on Nick asking loads of questions would cement his position.

Jacob chuckles, shaking his head, ‘now you’re worried that I’ll say something, pair of twats ain't we.’

‘Didn’t even enter my mind,’ Nick says, rolling his eyes.

‘So you’re alright then are you Nick?’

‘Fine mate,’ Nick replies slightly confused.

‘No I mean, you’re alright yeah?’

‘Oh, yeah I get it, yes Jake I am alright. You got nothing to worry about mate.’

‘Okay, hope so. Only just met you but,’ Jacob shrugs, ‘everything’s fucked up, don’t know who to trust, being careful what you say all the time.’

‘Yeah I bet.’ An urge rises in Nick to tell Jacob about the fort, and Mr Howie, that there are others out there who offer a different way, that the old principles and morals haven’t vanished but they’re here and stronger than ever. Jacob would fit in well at the fort. He’s turned a blind eye to the Doc’s perverted nature, but only on the justification that he’s waiting for the cure so he can leave and save his family. A hard pill to swallow by any degree, but relatable nonetheless and Nick can see the intense conflict in the man and the slow erosion of his soul.

Nick glances at the gun and the way Jacob keeps it close. Mr Howie will send Dave in first, that’s obvious. Maybe Clarence too. This lot, as tough and as hard as they look, don’t stand a chance against the team. Meredith, Dave, Clarence, Lani and the lads, not to mention Mr Howie when he gets into that mood. Anyone that stands before them will be cut down, anyone that opposes them will be dealt with swiftly and without hesitation. Once Lilly tells them what happened to her and her family, about the rape, the murders, taking the young boys and then seeing the boys here at the house, well, nothing short of a disaster will prevent them coming.

‘Are there any others like you Jacob?’

‘Like me?’ Jacob asks quietly, both of them standing by the garden chairs watching each other closely. No effort to move off and make more coffee has been made.

‘Decent… like you,’ Nick holds the gaze and speaks in a quiet but level voice. Eyes locked, both of them feeling the pressure to say more, to offer to help to each other, to form an alliance, but both too wary to take that step.

‘No,’ Jacob shakes his head sadly, ‘there have been but they went, left or…’

‘The Doc?’

‘And Larson,’ Jacob nods, whispering now with that pleading look in his eyes. Nick watches, his own eyes narrowing as he detects the prickle of tears in the older man’s eyes.

‘Feels like we’re both waiting to say something,’ Nick nods, urging the other man to take the plunge.

Jacob shrugs, the dilemma evident. His mouth forms words but no sounds come out. His hands grip the weapon, angst and turmoil pulsing through his body.

‘I’m loyal,’ Jacob croaks without conviction.

‘You want to see your son,’ Nick says softly, ‘Lucas, you want to see Lucas.’

‘Yeah.’ A single tear rolls down a weathered cheek.

‘There are others Jake,’ Nick whispers so quietly that Jacob has to step closer, his eyes alert now and locked on Nick, ‘others that aren’t like this.’ The gamble is taken, the dice thrown, but this isn’t a game of chance. Nick has calculated the odds and knows the risk is worth taking. It’s that or Jacob will die at the hands of Dave later.

‘Who?’ Jacob asks, the sound hardly made.

Nick pauses, unsure of how to proceed. What to say and how to say it. How does he go now? The wrong thing said could result in a serious risk being posed to the others.

‘Nick, tell me,’ Jacob steps in even closer, glancing about to be sure they’re alone, ‘what others? Where?’

The second wave of instinct hits Nick, but this wave is contrary to the first one, an instant feeling of an error made.

‘Nick I swear I ain't gonna say nothin’ mate,’ Jacob urges, his face a mask of emotion that contorts his features. A glimmer of hope, a fleeting idea that there might be something else out there, ‘I hate it here Nick, I want out, I fucking hate the Doc and I swear if he hurts one of those boys I’ll kill him. I’m only here for the cure then I’m gone. Nick, please…’

‘Stay close to me Jacob,’ Nick whispers. ‘I can’t say anything, I won’t say anything but stay close to me at all times.’ Nick watches as Jacob nods quickly, his expression intense and hanging off every word the young lad says.

This is it. Will Jacob press for more information or be satisfied at that. Nick watches him, watches the light flicker in the other man’s eyes. The atmosphere between them is charged, electric almost.

‘Okay,’ Jacob whispers, ‘don’t tell me, don’t say anything but just know yeah, that I ain’t like these people here. I didn’t do no rapes or murder. You want the gun?’ Jacob almost holds it out, ready and willing to hand it over.

‘How’s that gonna look?’ Nick grins, his easy smile returns as the confidence that he took the right risk pays off.

‘Yeah course,’ Jacob nods, almost smiling himself, ‘alright, what can I do?’

‘Nothing mate, just stay close, that’s all… er, they got an armoury here?’

‘Larson has ‘em all in his rooms, the blokes got shotguns and rifles with ‘em but the rest is kept safe.’

‘His rooms locked?’

‘All the time,’ Jacob nods, ‘keeps the key in his pocket. Nick you ain’t thinking of doing something yourself are you? I mean, they’ll fucking tear you apart.’

‘No,’ Nick shakes his head quickly, ‘just stay close.’

Looking round, Jacob steps away forcing himself to look normal. ‘We’d better get some more coffee so we look normal, maybe get something to eat too, you hungry?’

‘Funny that,’ Nick grins, ‘I’m starving as it happens.’

Forty Four

‘You two move out and keep watch,’ Clarence watches as Jagger and Mohammed move swiftly away from the Transit van. Both of them carry sawn off shotguns as they position themselves a few metres away from the forlorn and empty Saxon. Tools, hastily sourced from the fort, are shoved in the rear of the van as they drive quickly through the deserted roads into the town where the Saxon was left. Clarence winces at the trail of destruction his explosion of temper left earlier.

‘Wow man,’ Ginge nods comically, his red dreadlocked hair bobbing away as he looks with wide eyes at the big army vehicle, ‘that’s like, you know, a proper big army thing yeah?’

‘It is, now fix it,’ Clarence growls.

‘Man, you don’t understand that like, you know, I gotta see what’s wrong with it before I fix it. What happened, did it like you know, make noise or what man?’

‘The power went,’ Clarence shrugs, ‘no noises or bangs, just went.’

‘Slow or fast?’ Ginge asks.

‘Quick,’ Clarence replies, ‘just died.’

‘Man that sounds like a fuel problem, maybe a fuel line or something like, you know?’

‘Know what?’

‘Was there like, you know, diesel on the road or…?’

‘No,’ Clarence snaps, ‘nothing.’

‘Well okay man,’ Ginge grins, ‘that’s helpful you know? I’ll go take a look then.’

‘You do that. If you get it working then I might not shoot you.’ Deadpan delivery, face as devoid of expression as Dave. Voice deep, eyes glaring. Ginge gulps, smiling nervously before thinking that maybe it wasn’t a joke.

‘Lads,’ Clarence calls out to the two slightly older lads who are rapidly evolving into two trusted and capable youths, ‘if he doesn't anything you don’t like, runs off, shouts out, whatever… shoot him.’

‘You got it hench man,’ Jagger nods seriously. Having already spoken to the lads, Clarence made it clear he wanted the dreadlocked mechanic frightened to the point of doing whatever it takes to get the Saxon running.

***

‘Here, this is it,’ Paula runs her finger along the blue line on the map. ‘This has to be it,’ she murmurs. Folding the map out fully, she spreads it across the hot bonnet of the four wheel drive. Tracing the line of the river, she curses mildly when a drop of perspiration falls from her head onto the paper, ‘yep, Chapsworth House, this is the river then.’

‘Not deep enough,’ Dave says dully. At the side of the bridge they’re parked on he looks down into the gentle current sweeping by.

‘Sure?’ Paula asks gently, believing the man but also fully aware of how he reacted in the offices earlier when boats were mentioned.

‘Definitely too fucking shallow,’ Roy says lightly. Placing his hands on the top of the barrier, he leans forward to look down, then starts staring at the back of his right hand, quickly bringing it up to examine closely.

‘No boats then,’ Paula says with a smile at Dave.

‘Good,’ Dave nods, ‘unless it gets deeper further, on but then we don’t have time to find out. Nor would we have time to find boats and bring them to the deepest part.’

‘Agreed,’ Paula says quickly, ‘so what’s the next plan then?’

‘We’ll go by land,’ Dave says, moving across to the map spread out over the front of the vehicle, ‘take me to here and I’ll run in for a look then run back.’ He points to a spot a couple of centimetres from the property marked Chapsworth House on the map, ‘if that spot gets compromised then fall back half a mile and keep going.’

‘Okay Dave. Roy? You okay?’ She calls out, spotting Roy with that worried look on his face while staring at the back of his own hand.

‘Got a bruise,’ he replies in a meek voice, ‘can’t remember hitting it. Probably a disease of the blood or…’

‘We’ve all got bruises Roy,’ Paula adopts the gentle tone, ‘and you did climb up that rope remember? You probably knocked it on the way up.’

‘Oh yes, that rope yes,’ Roy grins with relief, ‘I’d forgotten all about that. Righto, so what’s the plan Dave?’ He walks over in a jaunty manner, grinning happily at the news that he isn’t dying of some incurable blood disease.

‘I’ll explain on the way, you driving?’

‘Really don’t mind,’ Roy grins, ‘yeah I’ll drive and you relax so you can plan and plot and come up with crazy wild ideas for everyone,’ he laughs.

‘Okay Roy,’ Paula chuckles.

Dave looks from one to the other as he climbs into the back, settling himself into the hot leather seats. They like each other these two, just like Mr Howie and Lani and Clarence and Mr Howie’s sister. Before she got killed and turned, then had her throat cut open by Dave that is.

People are strange, Dave muses. Smiling and grinning at each other, why don’t they just say they like each other and be done with it?

***

‘No way, that cannot be right.’ I stare at the thermometer then across to Lani.

‘What’s it say?’ Maddox strolls over with Lenski at his side.

‘Er,’ leaning in closer I count the black bars, ‘forty-two degrees Celsius. Did you hear that? Forty-two degrees! Shit…that’s got to be a record.’

‘No wonder everyone is wilting,’ Lani sighs, ‘and that’s in here out of the sun.’

‘How’s it looking then?’ I ask the two lads, Blowers and Cookey.

‘Same as before,’ Blowers replies, ‘down to sawn offs and pistols. Luckily we got tons of shotgun cartridges, and we got a few rifles but only single shot ones.’

‘Clarence has got Dave’s sniper rifle from the Saxon though,’ Cookey adds, ‘for later if we need it.’

‘Close up and dirty then,’ I sigh.

‘What is the close and dirty?’ Lenski asks with a puzzled glance.

‘He means the fighting,’ Maddox says, ‘sawn off shotguns are brutal at close range but no good for anything over a few metres away. Security is back up,’ he says looking at me, ‘got a crew on the wall with rifles and shotguns, a few at the back inside and outside and a whole crew outside plus another one stationed inside the inner gate. We’ll get a daily password and no one gets inside without it.’

‘Good idea mate,’ I nod at him.

‘Medical tents are functioning, we got that male nurse and his wife checking new people. We’ll need more but it’ll do for now.’

‘Why you say this like you do this?’ Lenski glares at Maddox, ‘I do all these things yes? But you steal the lemonlight.’

‘Lemonlight?’ Maddox grins, an instant transformation that changes his face, giving him a completely different personality.

‘What?’ Lenski glares round at the smiles.

‘It’s limelight,’ Lani comments.

‘Oh this funny yes?’ She glares first at Maddox then at me, which abruptly wipes the smirk from my face. Give me a horde of zombies to fight any day, rather than getting on Lenski’s bad side.

‘Er, Lilly alright?’ I ask Lani to change the subject.

‘In our rooms,’ Lani replies, ‘I had to shoo these two away.’ She nods at Blowers and Cookey, ‘which was very bloody hard until I told them how old she is.’

‘How old is she?’ I ask.

‘Fifteen boss,’ Blowers pipes up.

‘You’re shitting me?’ I exclaim.

‘No way,’ Maddox shakes his head, earning a swift dig in the ribs from Lenski.

‘That’s what she said. She er, she said something else too,’ Lani drops her voice, ‘she was so worried Nick would desert her, she offered herself to him, you know… sexually.’

‘Fuck,’ I gasp.

‘He turned her down too,’ Lani explains with no little touch of pride.

‘Good lad,’ I raise my eyebrows. Nick was high in my estimations before but now? Now he’s off the chart. Mind you, I know in my heart that we’d all do the same. Even Blowers and Cookey, for all their banter, wouldn’t do that.

‘Poor girl,’ Lenski sighs, ‘we all see these things yes but she see them in the one day, father, friend and her brother plus the man try and touch her.’

‘She’ll cope,’ Maddox lifts his head, ‘she got to.’

‘I know this, but still it sad,’ Lenski lifts one shoulder, ‘we lose the boys last night and I sad, we lose the people today and I sad. Roy he kill the two men and… It never end no?’

‘One day,’ Lani mutters staring at me.

‘Shit,’ Cookey gasps, snapping out attention to him. He stands completely still, staring at the dirty pane of lead lined glass giving a smudged view of outside. Slowly his arm lifts to point one finger at a single fat droplet of water rolling down the glass, ‘rain.’

Forty Five

On the Sixth day there was rain. A squall. A passing cloud laden with moisture. The rain fell and within a few hours all signs of it were gone; evaporated back into the super-heated atmosphere.

The cessation of mankind has had multiple effects. Every school student learns that people take oxygen in and exhale carbon dioxide. Every student learns that carbon dioxide contributes to the warming effect of the planet.

Only humanity didn’t cease. A large proportion of it ceased being human, but they didn’t go away. The undead still take oxygen in. The only way to keep the body moving is to draw air in so the lungs can still enrich the infected blood that pumps through the infected heart.

Cars. Factories. Aircraft. Ships. Trains. Motorbikes. Furnaces. Generators. Power-stations. Within twenty-four hours they all stopped. The fumes were no longer being pumped into the air. The smog started to clear, to lift. Cities who’s atmosphere caused absurdly high rates of asthma and other breathing related problems, started to change. The air became cleaner, day after day and after two weeks the stench of those fumes is barely noticeable.

In every language still spoken on the planet, the phrase new world, new rules is repeated over and again. An acceptance that what was… is no more. This is a new time and there are new rules.

Everything can change and maybe Mother Nature is aware of the abrupt change to the surface of her planet. Maybe, like any good manager, she recognises the opportunity to make alterations, to change things…to have a good clean out.

The surface is dirty and littered with corpses. The world is stained with the stench of death and dried blood, gore and innards slowly cooking in the heat or freezing in the cold.

A famous scientist once said Mother Nature can and will do what it takes to heal herself.

Maybe that time is now. Maybe all these things have happened for a reason..

Maybe Mother Nature will take this chance to cleanse.

Maybe.

Or maybe it’s just a storm. Something that would have happened regardless of the dead rising.

***

Reconnaissance; Observation of an area to gain information.

From the broiling, rolling clouds gathering on the horizon, one cloud is sent forward. Small and hardly visible, yet loaded with enough moisture to generate a single, fat drop of rain. That drop is expelled, sent through the atmosphere to plummet at terminal velocity towards the ground.

From the fort, the bastion of civilisation that already has seen many good men and women fall to protect it, one small man is sent forward to view the ground in preparation of the planned attack. The attack that seeks to recover the disabused children ripped from the loving embrace of their families to place them back into a secure and ordered environment.

From the horde that gathers quietly in the forests north of the fort, one undead is sent forward. The assumption that all the undead were drawn into the area for the attack of the previous evening is wrong. That attack came from the south east of England. More undead are available. More are summoned. More are gathered and quietly they wait. With chemical enforced patience they remain steady and resolute.

With each passing day their form becomes less and less human. Skin drawn and tight, teeth dirty and the thin lips pulled back in a never ending snarl ready for the bite.

Eyes sunk and hollow but still with that bloodshot red appearance. Hands claw, limbs twitch and drool hangs. Hundreds, thousands gather in the shade of the deep woods. More arrive from the North. They use hedgerows and valleys for stealth. Quiet. Unnoticed.

Determined.

Forty Six

‘You fixed it yet bro?’

‘No, like you know man I…’

‘What’s up bruv, you ain’t fixed it yet? You’s gonna get killed.’

‘Hey man, that’s like, oppressing me, like my soul and how I work, like you know…’

‘You’s should have it fixed by now bruv.’

‘Innit bruv, you wanna die do ya?’

‘What? No man…’

‘He wants to die Jagger.’

‘He does Mo Mo, he wants it bad.’

Ginge sweats, Ginge focusses, Ginge works harder as the two youths continue the unrelenting banter. The problem was simple, a fuel line connector shaken loose from all the constant battering. Finding it was difficult due to the vehicle being military specification and not the same as most road going vehicles.

The job would normally have taken at least half a day with the Saxon hoisted on a ramp, various parts stripped away and all the time the bill for labour costs growing at an alarming rate. But Jagger and Mohammed, as young and annoying as they may be, turn out to be great motivators. Ginge works quickly with the ever increasing threat of being killed, shot, stabbed, hung, strangled, drowned or choked on his own bollocks. He finds the fault and starts working to fix it.

‘Make it good,’ Clarence rumbles once the hippy mechanic shouts that he’s found the issue and can fix it, ‘if it breaks again I’ll come for you.’

‘Done man, like you know I fixed it and like, it ain't gonna break again man, like a proper fix that is for sure.’ Sliding out from underneath the vehicle he stands up, smiling coyly while wiping the sweat from his face.

‘Well done that man,’ Clarence booms, giving him a manly slap on the arm which sends the mechanic sprawling off to one side.

Inside the vehicle, Clarence winces at the heat built up from being sat baking in the sun all day. Ignition on and it fires up. The huge roar of those defiant engines screams into the quiet, deserted town centre.

Clarence smiles, like welcoming a comrade back into the unit. Patting the wheel gently, he murmurs welcome back then motions for the others to get in.

‘Shame that bruv,’ Jagger tuts, ‘I was looking forward to slicing you up.’

‘See if it holds first,’ Clarence adds evilly, enjoying the revenge on the man for daring to take their fort by force.

Clarence’s mind runs through the plan. Get back to the fort, get the gear loaded back in then see what Dave, Paula and Roy came up with. Wait till dark then we’re off. Get Nick, get the kids, get back to the fort again and see what else happens. Shaking his head at the never ending tasks laid out in front of him, he yawns and rolls his neck. The heat saps at his energy, causing little bites of annoyance to grow into an irritation. He is fed up of wiping the sweat from his face, fed up of drinking so much water just to replace the lost fluids, fed up of being so bloody hot all the time.

It can’t hold, this weather surely can’t keep on like this. Two weeks of solid, blistering sunshine that gets hotter every day.

On cue the shadow covers the ground, a veritable darkening of the skies. Leaning forward he peers through the windscreen to the heavens, seeing the rolling, deep grey clouds streaked with huge patches of almost pure blackness.

Dusk falls in an instant. The clouds blot the blue sky away. The electricity in the air charges up, hairs on his arms and neck prickle. Static fills the very air he breathes.

Foreboding, dark and dangerous. An act of awe inspiring power of a thing yet to come. The men are unable to speak, the air too thick. Clarence presses his foot down to drive power to the engine, racing faster to head back before all hell breaks loose.

Forty Seven

He runs. He likes running. Fast, sleek and fluid in his movements he stays low, surging alongside the hedgerows. Having memorised the map he knows the direction to head for, going for the higher ground that Lilly explained.

Sweat forms. This is an unusual occurrence for Dave, who’s body is so finely tuned as to be nearing perfection in physical form. Breathing harder he pushes on. Nick is within that place and Nick is part of the team. Mr Howie won’t stop until Nick is back with them.

The children are important but only in the sense that Dave has been told they are important. Knowledge not emotion. Mr Howie says this has to be done, so it gets done.

Into the copse, vaulting downed tree trunks, dodging low branches until he reaches the edge, drops down and scurries forward quickly.

Big house and exactly as described by Lilly. Lawns to the rear, the water of the river glistening as it goes by. Ground to the front stretching out to a high wall that runs round the perimeter to the main gate; an old stone built thing with two huge pillars and a cluster of sandbags stacked in a semi-circle.

Small figures move around the sandbags. Armed guards. Several of them but the distance between the gates and the house is huge. Dave watches, almost tutting at the absence of a fall back point or a second tier of defences between the gate and the house. No visible patrols, no sentry points.

Two people sat behind a shed off to the side of the house, must be a smoking area. Almost tutting again he imagines Nick sitting there smoking like he always does.

Dave watches them stand up, something in the movement of one of them. Nick. No doubt about it. Dave knows his team well and that is Nick standing there talking to the other man. They stay still then move closer, talking so they stay unheard, maybe an ally? Maybe someone willing to help when it goes off.

Dave nods to himself, a very small slight movement. Be aware that one of them might be willing to help. Either way, Dave knows the house is as good as taken. Not vanity or conceit, but pure confidence that he can do what others cannot do.

Entering a property this size and killing so many people is not something that bothers Dave. Taking life has never bothered Dave. What bothers him is the thought that in these very worst of times, there are people who will prey on the weak and vulnerable.

Nick is there. Nick is part of the team. Nick is to be taken back. Frowning, he knows he could go down now and get the job down with ease. No, the children. Remember the children. This isn’t just to get Nick out but to save the children too. He could get to Nick with ease but not the children, not without alerting the people inside to his presence, and like Mr Howie said, Dave charging at a bunch of terrified kids with two bloodied knives wouldn’t work that well.

Time to go. Recce complete. Scurrying back he simply follows his access route in. Building speed up and staying low, he races downhill and onto the level ground.

Just before reaching the waiting vehicle, he glances up at the huge sprawling clouds filling the horizon. A never ending wall of dark greys and blacks. The back of Dave’s neck starts to tingle.

‘See that,’ he comments on reaching the four wheel drive. Barely out of breath, he gets in the back and does his seatbelt up.

‘Yeah,’ Paula nods from behind the driver’s wheel.

‘Go.’

No one speaks, for the same reasons that Clarence finds affecting him, the air is too thick, too charged, too electric.

Hairs rise and Pauls finds a sudden, dull pain forming in the back of her head. It’s the same dull pain she always gets before a storm and as with Clarence, she finds her foot pressing down harder to make the journey back to the fort.

Forty Eight

Solitary it stands, scans the area then moves forward with a loping gait. Tall and thin, no excess fat on this undead, tight muscles that cling to the bone and show clear underneath the drawn skin.

Grey in pallor, it’s a sickening hue of decaying human but animated, full of energy and driven to push forward and scout the land.

Five miles north of the fort there is a wooded copse, a forest as ancient as the land itself. Oak trees that have been growing since records began. Protected by conservationists and home to many unique species, it now acts as a temporary refuge for the newest species on the Earth.

The infection calculated the loss of the previous evening. It factored there was a possibility that Howie and the others would evade it.

Howie was taken but the connection couldn’t be made. In the darkness and confusion even the infection couldn’t seek him out. Scent wouldn’t work with so many decaying bodies and so much blood split.

It starts to understand why the hosts fear him. Why, despite the chemicals, pheromones and endorphins pumped into the bodies, they still react.

He is unique. He is different. There is a dark spot of knowledge here. Even from the collected conscious of the undead, from the hive mind ability, the infection cannot understand what makes him unable to turn.

The infection felt both the host pushing the heart into his mouth, at the same time as it felt being pushed through the organisms within the heart. It was inside of him. The blood pumped into his mouth, absorbed into his soft tissue. He swallowed it into his stomach lining where it was absorbed but that was it, that’s where it ended.

Immunity. The infection knows what immunity is and if Howie were content to live his days quietly without issue there would be no further attempts to take him. Only he won’t. Like the proverbial fly in the ointment he keeps coming back, showing up here and there as he inflicts greater and greater losses on the hosts.

It doesn't want Howie now. Howie cannot be taken so instead he will be killed, at whatever cost, his life will be ended.

They must be exhausted. The infection understands they will be tired, hot, drained and therefore, they will be slower and less dynamic.

The infection factored all of this before the battle of the previous evening so it built reserves. Stock-piling resources to be used.

The wooded copse, five miles north of the fort, is the next group to be despatched. Under cover of night they will charge, quietly, without fuss or noise and they will gain that fort and destroy it.

The infection makes the head turn up. It looks through the red, bloodshot eyes at the gathering clouds so vast, filling the sky as they race across the heavens.

A storm will not only provide cover but will provide water to the hosts, re-energising them.

The time is close. The solitary undead makes his way south, moving through streets, roads and lanes, across fields and all the time picking out the best cover to be used by the masses behind him.  All the way down it goes, right to the countryside bordering the bay that curves round to the fort so solid and proud.

Not for long.

Forty Nine

Walking quietly down the long corridor of the top floor, the two men come to a sudden stop. Staring at each other with wide eyes, they hear something happening, happening now.

Nick doesn't breathe, it’s too early for them to come now. It’s gloomy but not night yet. The noise is awful and from all around them. A constant drumming cacophony that comes screaming out of the silence.

Slowly, Jacob loses the look of intense concern and starts to smile, a slow grin that spreads across his face. ‘Rain,’ he mutters.

As soon as the word exits his mouth, Nick recognises the sound for what it is. Sustained, intense rainfall. An old house with large windows, the drumming effect of the fat raindrops smacking into the large panes, echoes through the grand building.

On a tour of the house, Jacob pointed out the various rooms, showing Nick the layout and focussing on the route from the servants quarters where they drank coffee to the area designated for the boys.

The Doc’s rooms are noted, along with those used by Larson. The guards make use of the servants smaller bedrooms on the top floor.

They descend quickly. Moving swiftly through the house, they are joined by others coming out of rooms to head outside and see the rain. The big, double front doors have already been opened, with a small cluster of men standing in the shelter of the overhang.

A blur of purple sky ahead, solid sheets of rain that fall with thunderous effect onto the hardstanding. It’s so loud they have to speak in raised voices, shouting at one another in amazement at the spectacle.

Nick feels the intense heat still hanging in the air. Pausing for a second, he first extends one hand out to feel the water cascading down, then ventures out to stand in the downpour. The effect is shocking, the warm soft water drenches him completely in an instant. Hair soaked through, his clothes cling to his lean, muscular frame. He closes his eyes and for a second everything else is forgotten. Rain. Pure and clean.

Others move out to join him, Jacob staying close to the younger man. It’s like standing under a shower but like a shower unknown in his lifetime. Perfectly warm, perfectly refreshing, perfectly soaking.

Hearing noise, Nick opens his eyes to see the crowd outside the house growing. The Doc ran to gather the children, hastily leading them outside to stand with the others. Squeals of pleasure erupt from the boys as for a few minutes, all thoughts of loss, pain and suffering are gone.

Nick closes his eyes again, and a sudden, intense feeling of being lonely hits him. Away from the others, the separation tugs at his heart. He still doesn’t know for sure if everyone made it through the battle of the car park. Listening to the sound of the rain striking the ground, he misses them more than ever. The image of Lilly swims into his mind. The way she offered herself to him. What would that have been like?

He would never do that, never take advantage in such a manner but Nick is but a young man with the dreams and hopes that young men have. Lilly is beautiful beyond words so the desire, the dream, the wonder of allowing himself to imagine it is allowed. The kiss, although maybe given under duress by her, was both magical and intense yet soft and over far too quickly.

Where is she now? Is she standing in the rain thinking of him? Where are the others? What are they doing right now?

He realises that he’s homesick. Not for a place, but for his team, his family.

Stay strong and wait, they’ll come soon.

Fifty

I watch her young face turn up to the sky, the rain drenches her in an instant. Her blonde hair gets plastered to her face. She looks so alone, so frightened but resolute at the same time. Is she thinking of her brother? Of Nick in the house?

I feel Lani’s hand push into mine, our fingers entwine as we stand beneath the deluge. Everyone stands beneath the deluge.

Blowers, Cookey, Maddox and Lenski. Everyone. The whole fort stands still and faces the heavens.

The rain is massaging and warm, soft yet just hard enough to stimulate, and in this heat it feels like nothing I have ever felt before. Refreshing and cleansing, pure and sweet.

I’m not the only one who opens their mouth to catch the falling drops. Only this isn’t the average rainfall, this a deluge of the greatest intensity I have ever felt. My mouth fills with water. I swallow and do it again. It tastes amazing. No pollution, no chemicals, nothing but clean water.

Someone laughs nearby as a child jumps in the puddles already forming. Someone else cheers and I hear the sounds of people being happy, maybe only for a few minutes but it’s enough to lift the spirits.

Ominous though, portentous even. My heart rate suddenly increases, hammering in my chest, breathing coming hard and fast. Everything slows. Blowers with his face turned up, rivulets of water pouring down his stubbled chin, Meredith lapping at a puddle and her pink tongue seems to flick in and out so slowly.

Lani runs her hands through her long silky hair, sweeping it clear from her face. Electricity pulses through my body making me feel sick. Hairs standing on end and a tightening in my stomach.

Searching, looking all around. Something bad comes this way. Headlights at the front as the gates are swung open. The Saxon drives in, slowly becoming visible through the sheets of rain. The driver’s door opens as Clarence jumps down to join the others staring up at the sky.

The bulk of the Saxon hides the four wheel drive tucked behind. It drives out and round, pulling up alongside. Paula and Roy step out to smile and laugh at the feel of the rain drenching them in an instant.

Swallowing I can feel the pressure building inside me. I want to shout, roar and scream out loud. Something bad comes this way.

Dave watches me, unblinking, unflinching. Water runs freely down his head to stream from his chin. Something bad comes this way.

He knows it.

His eyes search mine as I look to him. Turning slowly, Blowers is no longer facing up but staring at me, his dark eyes locked on mine too. Cookey does the same, Lani and Clarence too. All of us feel that pressure, that static building stronger by the second. Maddox, Lenski, Paula, Roy and now Lilly. They all stare across at me, towards me, watching, waiting.

Something.

I don’t know what.

Bad.

What bad? I don’t know what it is.

Comes this way.

The air breaks. It breaks with noise so deep, so full of bass, with a roar that makes me feel so small and insignificant it brings tears to my eyes. Thunder.

From every direction it comes at once. Not from the distance but right above us and at the same time all around us. Low but high, close and far. It rolls and booms, jarring my organs. Screams and cries, people hit the ground in fear as the sound continues. It rolls and echoes and never goes away. Getting deeper, more powerful, building to a point where surely the planet will split and fracture into tiny pieces.

There is no action to be taken. The noise, the sensation, the feeling of the thunder driving through our bones renders us to the point of amoebas.

Thunder and lightning. Except in this case there is no and. Thunder. Lightning. Both together, at the same time. Co-ordinated and exact.

Light fills the dark sky, forks of pure white energy burn onto my retina so the shape of them remains for seconds. More come. Forks all around us. Crackling and flashes as the heavens explode in light.

Suddenly dark. Night came without any hesitation. The clouds blacken the sky to be revealed in their almighty glory by the electric flashes that seem to split the sky every few seconds.

Thunderous war drums boom round and round. A sight so great, so mesmerising, it takes my breath away.

A huge thick fork screeches down into the fort, a solid beam of jagged blue white light that seems to dance along the ground. Tents explode as the metal frames heat within a split second, the wooden outbuildings erected as make-shift kitchens burst into flames at the gentlest lick from the serpent’s forked tongue.

Sparks and flames shoot into the air. Another fork hits the visitor centre with enough energy to burst the one remaining pane of glass left proudly in the window. The smell is incredible, like singed hair but metallic and sulphuric too. Static everywhere, like tingling on the ends of my fingers. Speaking is negated as the thunder rolls back and forth, seemingly feet above our heads.

People screaming and running but there’s no point. The flames caused by the lightning are doused quicker than any fire service could ever do. There are a billion hoses on full spray in the clouds above and nothing can stay alight under that much water.

A fork hits the centre of the fort, the point gouging divots of earth as it snakes, dances and scores a path. Someone gets hit and is ripped from his feet to be sent spinning off into the darkness. It’s coming this way and we’ve seen enough action now to know when to stop and stare and when to run. So we run. Star-bursting, we explode away in all directions as the crackle whips by.

‘OFFICE,’ Dave roars at the top of his voice. Even so close, he sounds muted, like he’s trying to compete with the giants of the sky. They mock and laugh in return, rolling out a series of deep, explosive, rolling drums.

Heads down we run, the ground covered in a layer of water that flares up with every step. Clarence, the closest, gets there first and wrenches the door open. Standing outside he almost lifts everyone off their feet as he shoves them inside.

Slamming the door we stand dripping, breathing hard like we’ve been running for hours. The thunder is still going but the roof above our heads is thick stone and deadens the noise enough that we can hear each other shouting. Flashes of lightning burst into the darkness, giving us a harsh strobe like effect.

There’s another noise but from within now, it takes a few seconds but I gradually become aware of Meredith howling with her nose turned up and her long neck stretched out. Mournful and haunting, she keeps going until Lani drops down next to her, literally tugging at her to stop.

‘RIVER IS NO GOOD,’ Paula shouts, waving her hand under her chin to emphasise her point.

‘RECCE?’ I shout, my voice cracking from the exertion.

‘DONE,’ Dave is easier to hear, ‘AS LILLY SAID.’

Lilly, she’s still with us. The plucky kid ran with everyone else to get inside the offices.

‘SAXON?’

‘FIXED,’ Clarence bellows with a thumbs up.

‘WE GO NOW, THE STORM,’ I point at the sky, ‘GOOD COVER.’

Nods all round, everyone in agreement.

‘SAME PLAN?’ Maddox shouts.

‘DAVE?’

‘YES.’

‘SAME PLAN?’

‘I SAID YES MR HOWIE.’

Funny bugger, I swear he does it on purpose. ‘WE’LL TALK ON THE WAY, LET’S GO.’

Sprinting to the armoury we grab shotguns, both sawn offs and long barrelled. Dave grabs his sniper rifle while Clarence takes the GPMG from on top of the Saxon. No ammunition but the sight of it might make a difference.

All around us the thunder booms and rolls. The risk of being struck by lightning is very real, especially given the fact we’re about to load into a huge metal can. Is it earthed? What will happen if lightning hits it?

Still, the storm is perfect cover for what we’re about to do. The noise of it, the spectacle, the reduced visibility all works in our favour.

The Saxon is loaded up with me in the driver’s seat, Clarence in the passenger and my team in the back. Another van is loaded with Maddox, Roy, Paula and the two youths Jagger and Mo Mo.

‘Wait,’ Clarence jumps back outside and runs off while I get the engine started, trying to peer through the gloom and watching another jagged fork strike the top of the seaward side wall. It’s an incredible sight and truly frightening.

The rear doors open to reveal a very sad looking, ginger, dread-locked man being launched in. Door close and the big man is climbing back into the passenger seat giving me a thumbs up.

‘Nice one.’ I nod back at the terrified man staring up at the hard faces from his hands and knee. He looks round then stops dead at the sight of Meredith holding her nose inches from him.

Blowers visibly tuts, grabbing hold of his shirt he pulls him onto a seat and says something to him.

That’s it, loaded up and ready to go. Pulling away, I navigate a wide turn to face back the right way and start heading towards the main gates, the second van close behind me.

‘Fuck,’ I gasp at the sight before us. The hard compacted earth, baked so dry after two weeks of such intense heat isn’t absorbing the rain. Instead it pools and gathers on the surface, giving an appearance of a huge lake stretching out in front of us. The noise of the rain striking the Saxon is constant, a drumming, pattering sound. That coupled with the thunder and constant flashes gives everything a static, surreal feel.

Edging forward slowly, I aim for where the road will be, knowing there are two big ditches here somewhere that are now unseen. After so many trips up and down this road, I find it instantly and start moving away.

‘Keep an eye out the back in case the van gets stuck,’ I yell out, hearing as someone opens the rear doors to watch. A huge thunder clap literally vibrates the Saxon on its springs, followed a split second later by huge twisting jagged bolts of pure energy strobing the sky.

Just hang on Nick, not long now mate. Hold tight and wait for us.

Fifty One

‘You got any spare clothes?’ Jacob asks. Back in the house and the young boys were quickly removed once the thunderous claps and bolts of light started. There were screams of fear as the sheer awesome sound and light show terrified the children to their cores.

‘I’ll be alright,’ Nick replies, ‘they’re still hot so they’ll dry.’

The Doc ushered the boys into the house, yelling in delight at them to run and get to safety. He led them up the stairs like a heroic saviour of children, picking two of the smallest up but refusing to let any of the guards help.

Left in the hallway, Nick and Jacob stand away from the others to watch the storm through one of the large display windows, marvelling at the power of the storm hitting so quickly.

‘It’s everywhere,’ Nick observes as the thunder booms and rolls, seemingly from every direction at the same time. The barbs of lightning bring the vista to daylight for split seconds, burning the image onto retinas.

‘Long time coming,’ Jacob has to shout over the noise of the pelting rain and thunder, ‘feel this heat though?’ Jacob asks watching as Nick nods, ‘means the worst is yet to come, feels like it’s getting hotter too, humid and static yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ Nick nods in agreement, the air feels almost thick and syrupy. His head is clogged with a dull pain and he can feel the static, the hairs on his neck and arms prickling.

‘It will get much worse,’ Jacob nods staring back out the window, ‘no wind yet either.’ He bites his bottom lip, blinking as a fork strikes the grounds just metres away. ‘Thunder is the air being split by the lightning, hear that crackle then the sonic booms?’

Glancing over he sees Nick staring at him closely, ‘the lightning hits which does something to the air, like positive and negative ions or something. Anyway that displaces the air so fast it creates that sonic boom, like an aircraft but…’

‘Yeah,’ Nick nods, ‘how do you know that?’

‘Read up on it for my kid,’ he shrugs, ‘he asked me what thunder and lightning was so I figured I should know, I hope I got it right,’ he adds quickly.

‘Sounds good mate,’ Nick smiles. Perfect weather. This noise and the reduced visibility will hide the approach of the others when they come. They’ll be on their way now, setting out in vehicles with Dave sat in the back sharpening his knives, whilst Cookey cracks crap jokes that still make everyone smile. Clarence will be up front so everyone has a bit more space in the back, probably with Lilly and Lani sat together while the lads gawp at her.

‘You look like your waiting for something,’ Jacob whispers quickly between a break in the thunder.

Nick looks and smiles sadly, he likes Jacob more with every passing minute. They’ve only just met but the older man has taken a huge gamble in trusting him and opens up more every few minutes. He hasn’t questioned Nick about anything but just stayed close. The way Jacob explains things; who to avoid, the dangerous men, the easy going, lazy ones and the layout of the house in such detail that Nick knows the man suspects something is going to happen soon.

‘Tonight?’ Jacob asks hopefully, ‘just tell me where you want me when it happens yeah?’

Indecision keeps Nick silent, unsure of exactly how much to tell the man. It could still be a trap, he was placed with Jacob by Larson. This man could be faking all the misery and upset, but it doesn't feel that way and sometimes you just have to go with your gut.

‘Well my glorious men,’ the Doc booms, walking jauntily down the stairs, ‘the boys are with the lovely Meryl, poor little mites were terrified. I would say,’ he stops halfway down the last flight of stairs, a perfect position to hold court to the men gathered in the grand hallway, ‘this weather breaking is cause for celebration, who agrees with me?’

Deep voices murmur in agreement, a muted, restrained response from men too wary of the psychotic doctor to do anything else.

‘Come now,’ the Doc laughs, ‘I expected more of a rousing cheer, well you if you don’t want beer and liquor and dare I say… Some of the fine, single malt whiskey then fine…Oh that got your attention didn’t it, I say again… Who agrees with me?’

The responding cheers echo through the cavernous room, deep voices yelling in happiness. Someone whistles as Nick takes in the various broken toothed smiles almost as ugly as the undead.

‘Larson my good man, let’s get these men a drink.’

‘Right you are Doc,’ Larson appears at the edge, leaving Nick wondering if he had always been there or just arrived. ‘Everyone with me then.’

‘What about the guards?’ Nick asks Jacob quietly.

‘Rotation is done for the evening,’ Jacob replies, ‘the gate guards will stay there till morning and just a few left on patrol. ‘Ere Mick,’ Jacob calls out to a passing man with old style, faded green tattoo’s on his neck, ‘you on patrol tonight?’

‘Yeah,’ Mick scowls at the prospect of not being able to drink.

‘Me and the lad’ll do it, I promised Larson I’d show him round.’

‘Bloody hell Jacob, I don’t need asking twice mate, nice one!’ Mick grins, grabbing his mate to give him the good news.

‘Cheers Jacob and whatever your name is,’ another thickset man calls out from the crowd.

‘Nick, no worries,’ Nick calls back with a smile.

‘What’s that?’ Larson steps in looking between the two pairs.

‘Jacob said he’ll show Nick round and do our patrol tonight, means we can have a drink yeah?’ Mick explains with a sudden worried look that Larson will refuse it.

‘Good on you Jacob,’ Larson nods firmly, ‘everything okay then Nick? Settling in alright?’

‘Fine thank you,’ Nick nods thinking it’s only been a couple of hours and how can he possible have settled in yet.

‘Take it easy tonight Mick,’ Larson warns in a low growl, ‘don’t get drunk, you hear me?’

‘Course not,’ Mick murmurs.  A strange, subdued response from such a hard looking man. The scars and marks on his body speak of countless fights and scraps yet he instantly defers to Larson. They all do, nodding respectfully as they file past into one of the big downstairs rooms.

Jacob and Nick tag along, watching as the Doc uses a key to open the door to a walk in cupboard. Grinning and calling out jovially, he starts passing out cases of beer, bottles of wine and spirits. Men queue up and wait for the drinks to get passed round.

Scanning between them, Nick notices the puzzled look Larson aims at the Doc. Clearly confused as to why the big man is letting everyone drink now.

This isn’t like him. He normally hates it when the men want a drink but here he is, passing it out like a veritable Santa at the office Christmas party. Larson watches the way the tough guards defer even more to the Doc, speaking only when spoken too and nodding respectfully the whole time. Animals can recognise a dangerous predator amongst them.

The storm rages and builds with intensity and power. Candles, lit throughout the main corridors flicker and dance, casting soft illumination against the walls. Windows patter as the rain lashes against them, rolling claps and boom accompanied by the flashes of sheet and fork lightning.

Maybe the storm has eased the pressure? Everyone has been feeling the heat build and along with it, tempers have been getting frayed and short. The Doc’s explosion at Vince is a prime example, resulting in the man being beaten to death. Guilt? Could be. Maybe the Doc has stewed on their earlier conversion and then smacking that poor guards face later. Maybe he’s picked up on the sulky, terrified manner of the men and decided to show a different side.

Either way it’s a good thing and long overdue. Wait till he gets a few drinks inside him then he can ask about getting some women in here. Meryl can’t cook morning noon and night for everyone and none of this lot can boil and egg. Plus there’s the laundry too, everything needs hand washing now and the boys could do with some maternal types here to put ‘em at ease.

That Nick is a good lad. Thick and obviously low on the intelligence scale, but that just makes the nipper eager to please his elders and betters. Look at him now, gooning over Jacob in a desperate attempt to please him and earn favour. Can’t read or write? Jesus, what is the world coming to if the youth can’t even get a proper education.

Still, the thicker the better. Easier to manipulate and control. Give ‘em some food, a few wenches to fuck and a bit of freedom and they’ll keep coming back.  Yeah maybe a few get lost here and there, not returning from the scavenging or of course the Doc losing his rag and killing them, but loses are to be expected..

Thinking of the Doc, he is already knocking them back. Larson frowns at those big hands gripping a can of lager. It doesn't look right, that a man of such learning from such a dignified profession, drinks from a can like normal men. Surely he should be drinking wine, or even pouring the beer into a glass first but there he is, glugging away.

First can finished and the Doc crushes the aluminium container while giving a big belch then wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

‘You alright?’ Larson asks quietly, motioning for the Doc to step away from the men. More have come in now. Those hanging about the servants quarters being quickly called and summoned to the impromptu party. Muted conversations start to lift but many a wary glance is still thrown towards the Doc and Larson.

‘Fine Larson,’ the Doc beams with a film of sweat covering his pale meaty face.

‘This such a good idea?’ Larson says bluntly, ‘you drinking down here with the men?’

‘What?’ the Doc laughs, ‘why on earth not? Oh I get it, yes my temper,’ the Doc mimics the smaller man, ‘I’ll have you know Larson that I am a happy drunk and not at all violent.’

‘Okay Doc,’ Larson smiles slowly, ‘studies going okay?’

‘Takes time my good man, it’s not something that can just be…’ he waves one huge hand in the air, ‘…plucked out of the sky. Study, research and time.’

‘Test subjects then? We any closer to needing any?’ Having asked before he probes further, wanting to know when they’ll need to capture some control specimens of undead.

‘All in good time,’ the Doc pulls the ring back on another can.

‘Equipment then?’ Larson pushes, ‘you want me to start looking for stuff? Like microscopes or… I don’t know.’

‘Yes yes, look my man, the weather has finally broken, we’ve got well stocked supplies and a house full of happy, healthy boys so let’s just enjoy tonight eh? Switch off and have a couple of drinks.’

Nodding with a quick grin, Larson steps back as the Doc brushes past him, heading to a group of tattooed men laughing quietly. The fact that they’re laughing at all is amazing, showing humour in the presence of the Doc.

Alright for you to switch off, Larson thinks darkly, you’re not the one running everything. Guards to sort out, patrols and making sure no one upsets you or even looks at the boys the wrong way. I’ve still got Vince’s body to dump too.

More laughter from nearby, a joke cracked and men smirking in response. The Doc moves over top the laughing group and instantly they return to being poker faced. What was the joke the Doc asks. Larson watches as one man quietly re-tells it, nervous glances and worried looks as the Doc listens intently. The atmosphere charges to the point of being almost as energised as the storm outside. The punchline, a brief pause of baited breath. The joke teller visibly wilts seeing his life flash before his eyes.

Then the Doc roars with laughter, a huge sound produced by a big set of lungs and it fills the room. Genuine laughter too. The other men join in, laughing more from relief than from hearing the joke a second time.

Whack. The Doc slaps the shoulder of the man telling the joke, a hard hit but one done from camaraderie. The joke teller flinches from the contact, spilling his drink over the Doc’s shoes. Silence. The Doc guffaws and takes a big gulp, not noticing the spillage, and even Larson realises he is holding his breath.

He’s on his third can already and its strong lager too. Mind you, the Doc is a big man so maybe he can hold it well. Noticing it getting louder, Larson scans the groups quietly, watching the inhibitions start to fade as the alcohol flows faster.

The Doc throws one arm up, shouting that they need nibbles and aperitifs. ‘What can of cocktail party is this?’ he shouts with mock anger, ‘Larson my good man, we are in need of nibbles I say.’

‘Leave it with me,’ Larson mutters, almost thankful for a reason to leave the room. Exiting, he nods at Jacob and Nick, a conciliatory nod of men who can’t really join the party, the designated drivers that have to go along with the jokes and banter.

‘We’ll do a sweep,’ Jacob says quietly to a return nod from Larson. Leaving the room, the three soon separate as Larson heads upstairs to find Meryl.

‘Never seen him drink before,’ Jacob remarks as they walk through to the side delivery entrance of the servants quarters.

‘You mean the Doc?’

‘Yeah,’ Jacob nods. Out of the room he allows the worry to show on his face, a strange morphing as he drops the guard and allows his features to reflect his true emotions. In the guard room where the men gathered earlier to drink coffee, Jacob automatically goes to the side door and checks the thick bolts on the inside are driven home. A thick wooden door, ancient and built to withstand a hard battering. Nick almost winces, suspecting this would be the preferred point of entry for Dave.

With his hand on the top bolt Jacob turns to stare, noticing the flicker of concern on the younger lad’s face. They hold, eyes locked, nothing said. Nick watches as Jacob keeps his hand firmly grasped on the lever of the bolt. Dull laughter echoes down the hallway, a rolling boom of thunder still so loud it makes them both flinch. Flashes of lightning strobe the room. Still nothing said.

Slowly, Jacob nods and pulls the bolt back with his eyes fixed on Nick. His hand drops to the middle bolt and repeats the action, drawing it open to slide the solid, metal tube out of the locking mechanism. Eyes still locked as Jacob bends down, groping for the third bolt. Without looking what he’s doing, his hand flails up and down, side to side, constantly missing the bolt.

‘Fuck it,’ Jacob mutters shaking his head, ‘you want these left open yeah?’ He asks with a smile.

‘Maybe,’ Nick laughs at the absurdity of them both still refusing to say anything outright.

‘S’the way I’d come in if er…I was going to try anything sneaky…not that I would of course Nick, I’m loyal to the Doc.’

‘Yeah, you said that Jacob.’

‘Just so we understand each other then, best leave this door open to let some air in, stuffy in here.’

‘Good idea mate, I was thinking the same, maybe leave the light on too?’

‘What this lamp here? The one we’re about to walk past and forget to turn off?’

‘Yeah that one.’

‘Where now?’ Jacob asks. The power shifts, the older man now looking to the newcomer for leadership. They’ve only known each other a few hours but the transition is smooth. Almost at breaking point, Jacob was urging himself to stay strong and do his job, get the cure and get out. Nick has a presence though, an undefined power to him that speaks of something good and decent and in sheer desperation Jacob throws caution to the wind and makes the decision, ‘I’m in, whatever it is, I want out of here.’

‘Okay,’ Nick replies quickly, ‘like I said, just stay close no matter what happens.’

‘Got it.’

‘Other than that we should do whatever is normal.’

‘Yeah,’ Jacob nods, a glimmer of hope now alight in his eyes. Maybe? Maybe there is a way out of this. Maybe he doesn't have to stay here and be aware of little boys being abused. He can get away and find his wife and son. No, he will get away and find them.

‘I’m gagging Jacob, can we have a fag here?’

***

‘The Doc wants food for the men,’ Larson says from the doorway of the makeshift dormitory. There are beds down both sides of the long room. Double beds, single beds, camp beds and all of them covered in colourful blankets and duvets. Toys everywhere and lots of little faces clustered round the maternal figure of Meryl sitting on the floor with her back to one, big footboard, reading a story from a book.

‘Boys, this’ll have to wait,’ she says with a sad smile, ‘you get into bed now and I’ll come back up later to check on you, go on now, into bed…I’ll be right out,’ she calls out.

Larson waits quietly, letting her know this should be done sooner rather than later, watching as the kind woman ushers the boys to their beds and noticing the newest arrival, Billy looking even more lost and confused than before.

‘You come with me,’ Meryl takes the small boy’s hand leading him to the last bed on the right, ‘that’s it, get in there and I’ll be back soon.’

‘He’s drinking,’ Larson mutters as Meryl steps out closing the door behind her. She pauses, nods once and walks on without saying a word. Sighing deeply, she flinches at another booming clap of thunder shaking the house, violent bolts of lightning score the grounds outside. If the Doc is drinking they’ll all probably be drinking and that’s all she needs, a house full of terrified boys and drunk, violent men.

Well, the supplies are good so they can have what they want, in fact the more food the better to soak the alcohol up. Sandwiches would be better, lots of bread but unless they can wait a few hours while she bakes some it will have to be snack food instead.

Larson watches her slip down the stairs. In the darkness of the main corridor, he takes in the flickering candle light and the huge walls illuminated for the split second of lightning flashes.

Hot and close still and the humidity must be off the chart. Movement catches his eye, the candles all flicker in a row from the closest to the furthest. A draft but from where?

Then the noise comes. A sudden, intense howling of wind that builds within a few seconds. It gusts through the house, rattling windows and slamming any unlocked doors.

Echoes of drunk men guffawing float between the gaps of noise created by nature. The Doc’s voice is easily recognisable.

Staring at the stairs he slowly looks away to the doors of the Doc’s rooms, wondering if he locked them up.

No, he didn’t. The door swings open easily. The tiny squeak from the hinges is lost in the cacophony of noise from outside. It’s dark in here, no candles. Larson pulls the small LED torch from his pocket and shines the beam round the room.

The examination bed is on one side, the easy chairs and the desk on the other side. Leaving the door slightly ajar, he crosses to the desk. The torch light sweeps over the books stacked up, slips of paper acting as bookmarks. He looks at medical books, encyclopaedias, pharmacy books and all manner of surgical and medicinal publications.

How close is he? Larson starts flicking through the hand scribbled notes on the jotters. Seeing how scrawly handwriting is, he smiles as he remembers the age old joke about doctors having appalling handwriting

Medical terms underlined and scored. Pathogen. Disease. Infection. Cure. Basic words that anyone who had seen a medical reality television show would know. Flicking through, he notices the same words are repeated over and over.

On the top page there are new words, the same ones the Doc was talking about earlier. Prions, Parasitoids, protein.

Marked on the same jotter, there is a reference to a page number and section. The closest book is folded open and left face down. Picking it up, Larson notes the page number is the same as the one on the jotter. A yellow highlighter pen has been used to mark certain words, the same words as on the jotter. Prion. Protein. Parasitoids.

Flicking his gaze between the jotter and the pages of the medical book he remembers what the Doc said earlier.

‘CJD was a Prion, which is a form of pathogen that enters the host body and acts as a template, tricking the cell structure to mutate and become like the infected cell. Now, CJD was a Prion…’

There it is, the same passage in this book. Not word for word but as good as. Grabbing another book he opens to the pages marked by the slips of paper; Understanding basic medical terms, medical terminology for students, basic field triage, Level One training for the first aider.

More pages marked on how to apply bandages, dressing, clean wounds, check for broken bones and recognising brain injuries.

Realisation hits. A sinking feeling that starts in the pit of his stomach, knotting his insides up. Fake. A fucking fraud. A dirty, paedophilic, child abusing cunt. posing as a doctor to touch up little kids.

Stick with me Larson, I’ll get us a cure, I’ll make us famous.

The words he said in the beginning, the tone, the implied confidence that he can fix this, can find the cure and make a vaccine.

I just need time to study.

Dirty bastard. The fact the fraudster tricked him so he could fiddle with boys doesn't bother him. Being tricked full stop. The blow to his self-belief that he could read people and see through them.

‘Larson?’ He spins round, startled at his name being called. Jacob and that new lad are standing in the doorway watching him, ‘everything alright? We er…we saw the door open?’

‘Yeah,’ Larson gasps, ‘fine…’

‘Doc downstairs still is he?’ Jacob asks knowing the answer and already cursing himself for asking the question. Close the door and leave, whatever is going on is nothing to do with him.

‘He’s a fucking fraud,’ Larson spits, unable to contain the rage building, ‘he isn’t a fucking doctor, the cunt is a fraud, a dirty fucking…fucking…’

‘What?’ Jacob asks, his mouth dropping open.

‘Close the fucking door,’ Larson snaps, ‘the bastard is a fraud, he isn’t a fucking doctor, all these books, all these notes ain’t about finding a cure, they all about basic fucking…cunting…shitting…medical shit..’ spitting with fury he glares at the desk.

‘Those kids,’ Larson seizes on the thing that he knows will anger even the hardest of men. All of them have not only turned blind eye, but actively facilitating the Doc being able to abuse the children on the basis he was going to fix mankind. ‘He fiddled with those kids while we waited for him to get the cure…fucking fucker…’ Larson is seething with rage that blinds him to the point of carelessness.

‘Easy Larson,’ Jacob steps forward holding a placating hand out in an effort to calm him.

‘Easy? Easy Jacob? Fuck that, what the fuck have we been doing here? Dirty cunt…’ He turns back to the desk, shining his torch at the notes as he reads aloud some of the basic words and phrases.

Jacob glances at Nick, a questioning look on his face. Nick nods, equally worried and sensing the explosion about to come off Larson. If he does blow, if he does react, it could jeopardise everything. Mr Howie will come tonight. Nick knows it. If Larson starts going nuts now it could cause problems? Or could it? Can it be beneficial somehow, cause confusion or mayhem which the others can take advantage off.  It’s full dark now and the storm not only rages but builds with power every passing minute, they should be here any minute. But then what if they don’t come?

The first nagging doubt descends into Nick’s mind. He could have got it completely wrong. He banked on Lilly getting safely to the fort, banking on everyone being okay. Nick hasn’t seen any of them since the middle of the fight in the car park, what if they’re all dead or injured? That feeling, that bond between them that told him everyone is safe could be wrong, could be a side effect of the heat making him delirious.

***

The Doc is drunk on strong lager. The chemicals soak into his system and for such a big man, he can’t hold his drink very well. The nibbles Meryl brought are being devoured as the pile of empty beer cans grows larger by the second. The howling wind, the thunder and lightning, all ignored as the men drink and drink, becoming raucous and animated. The jokes get course, the language becomes foul, as the drunken atmosphere gets wilder.

The Doc grins at the nearest group of men, any sense of keeping the familiarity down, of keeping that sterile distance is gone. He’s one of the men now, one of the lads, a fellow drinker that can swear and cuss, tell rude jokes and behave badly.

There’s an itch though. Alcohol does that. It lessens the inhibitions. That itch. It won’t go away. This has happened before when he got drunk which is how he ended up serving time in that sex offenders hospital and being put on that god-awful sex offenders register, telling them where he lived, letting them come into his house and check his computer. Bastards.

Ah, that itch it just won’t go away. Those poor boys, sleeping innocently upstairs. They’re probably terrified of the storm and the howling wind outside. God that thunder hasn’t stopped one bit, getting worse if anything and the rain! Never seen rain like it.

Blasted itch. An urge, a demand, a nasty desire that nags and nags. He knows what he wants but it’s a step too far.

He’s The Doc though. He can do what he wants, when he wants. He owns this house and everyone inside it. He’s going to find the cure and the vaccine and fix everyone, he’ll be worshipped then and his dirty little secret won’t matter. Hell! Mothers will be queuing up to hand their sons over. Yeah, that’s right, I am The Doc and I can do what I want.

‘Ere Doc, what about getting us some women ‘ere then?’ A big bruiser asks drunkenly. Squat and ugly, with scars on top of scars and faded tribal tattoos down his neck, he is a victor of many fights on the terraces and in the streets outside the games. Poland, Germany, Italy. He’s fought for his club all over the world, weapons and with his bare hands.  A big man, but quick and with a violent streak and a list of convictions to match.

There is a difference between psychotic and naturally violent. A big difference. The naturally violent know right from wrong. To them, violence is almost a sport, a team game to be done when the time is right. You don’t kill the opponent but fuck him up, make him bleed and maybe break a few bones but killing? That just means a life sentence.

Psychotic don’t care. They just don’t care about the consequences. The rage comes and it must be fed, instantly and without hesitation.

The Doc crosses the room within a split second and drives the point of his large thumb deep into the other man’s eye, bursting the pressurised ball within. Screaming he doesn't go down but quickly backs away flailing to get the digit from his eye socket. The Doc goes with him, primal rage takes over, blow after blow is given. Fists, elbows then, as the man goes down, feet are used. He doesn't stop but kicks and stamps at the head until all that remains is a bloodied dead mess.

‘I’M THE DOC,’ he screams over and over, ‘THE DOC, I’M THE DOC.’

The men watching could tear him apart within seconds if they worked together but so great is the fear the man brings, they do nothing. The other men watch quietly as all conversation ceases. Cans get put down, men back away fearfully. Not one word is spoken other than the screams given by the Doc.

He stamps and stamps, the skull caves in but still it doesn't scratch that itch, it does nothing to feed the urge he feels inside. They won’t touch me, they won’t do anything. Immunity from everything he has, immunity from prosecution, from being judged, from being stopped.

The world is his for the taking. Standing back he glares round the room, towering over every man present. Eyes wild and unblinking, unaware of the gore stuck to his shoes, uncaring even.

‘DRINK THEN,’ he roars, ‘DRINK, THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED, SO DRINK.’ He picks on one man stood slightly away from the others. Nervously, the man lifts a random can from the table and sips at the edge. Others do the same, sullen but terrified they lift cans and drink, not one man even daring to glance at the corpse lying at their feet.

‘Enjoy your night gentlemen, I shall retire and bid you a good evening.’ The Doc speaks gently, with the forced tones of a cultured man, but still he holding that central position as though daring anyone to speak.

Eventually he walks towards the door, head held high, one hand he sweeping the scraggly, grey hair away from his neck.

Breathing hard from the exertion of stamping a man to death, his head swims from the after-effects of the violence and alcohol. Heart thumping hard which only serves to give him the sensation of being untouchable.

The sweat flows freely down his face, caught by the flickering illumination of the candles and the flashes of pure energy strafing the sky. To the beat of the rolling thunder he mounts the stairs, long legs ascending with ease. Hand gripping the rail as the first layer of conscious thought grasps the idea of tucking the boys in while the deeper levels know exactly what he’s intending once he’s in that room.

At the top of the stairs he holds still, resting for a minute while he gets his breathing under control. Absent mindedly his hand tugs at the collar of his shirt, pulling it away from his neck. Rolling his head he eases the tension in his neck. Flashes of light all add to the over-whelming sense of power dripping from his fingers.

Lips twitching with unabated, lustful hunger he advances towards the door. Step after heavy step. Fingers twitching at the prospect of grasping that door handle and turning it slowly. Eyes now fixed and staring.

It’s dark within the room, the boys lie huddled under sheets. Too hot to be covered but too scared to lie on top. Tears stream down faces, small chests heave with quiet sobs, images of parents of siblings and relatives, of the lives they lost dance through their minds. Billy sucks his thumb, something he hasn’t done for years. Lilly will come. Lilly will come. He holds that thought, knowing she’ll come for him.

The thunder rocks the house, vibrating the very foundations. Lightning forks outside the unsheathed windows. Howling wind roars through every gap and crevice, shaking the old wooden frames. The boys hear noises of monsters everywhere, but the greatest danger is yet to come as slowly the door handle creaks.

Boys hold their breaths, longing to see the large friendly shape of Meryl silhouetted in the frame. Swinging open on creaking hinges they stare into the darkness, waiting, longing, terrified.

‘My boys,’ the huge figure of the Doc looms in the frame. Flashes of light race across the sky, lighting his drunk, grotesque features, showing the hunger evident on his face as he steps inside and quietly closes the door.

Fifty Two

‘I can’t go any faster,’ I call out.

‘Eh? No one said anything,’ Clarence stares at me.

‘I know but this feels so slow.’

‘Better to get there in one piece,’ Clarence mutters. Well I say mutters but more shouts due to the noise of the storm, ‘and we could go faster but the van behind us can’t.’

Sheets of rain lash the road ahead, visibility is reduced to just a few metres. The powerful headlights just bounce the light back of the water giving a dazzling effect. The route ahead is now featureless. The surface water has pooled so deep as to present a lake. The road is straight so we keep heading on, ever mindful of much less ground clearance of the van behind us.

‘Man, like you know this thing is built for this,’ Ginge calls out, ‘like deep water and bad things man, you know, like it can take it.’

‘Got to be near the estate now,’ I lean forward to peer out, straining to get a glimpse of the ruined area. A wall ahead looms ahead. The dark shape of the side of a house maybe? But no, it’s too big.

I can’t make it out. There wasn’t anything this big here before, Dave saw to that when he blew the estate up. What is that?

Slower now, edging forward as crackling static fills the Saxon. Suddenly, a fork of lightning shoots down straight in front of us. The glimpse is less than a second but it’s enough to have my foot on the brake instantly. Despite the slow speed the Saxon lurches to a halt, jarring everyone inside.

‘What?’ Clarence shouts, Dave moves up to stand behind and view out the front. They all do.

‘No, no way,’ I mutter, ‘not possible.’

‘What isn’t?’ Lani urges.

Lightning again, long and sustained as several separate forks hit one after the other, giving a series of strobe like flashes of illumination, revealing everything in perfect, gory detail.

Gasps sound out behind me. A wall in front of us stretches as far as we can see. Six feet in height and solidly built with no gaps. Meredith growls, deep and resonant, lips pulling up she locks eyes on towards the front.

They’ve done this before. No. It has done this before. In the car park last night they did this; using their own fallen to make a corpse wall. But this one is bigger and better made.

When the lightning strikes again, we all look to where the enormous mounds of bodies were stacked up waiting to be burnt. We know they’ll be gone but visual evidence is needed.

They are gone. Instead, the human remains have been made into bricks, limbs and torsos jammed together.

‘How did you not see this?’ I shout at Clarence.

‘Wasn’t there,’ he growls, ‘I saw the fucking mounds, it wasn’t built yet.’

‘It wasn’t,’ Dave cuts in, ‘when we came back it was normal.’

‘They did this in what? Half an hour?’

‘Looks that way,’ Clarence mutters.

‘Where the fuck they coming from? We got thousands again last night,’ Cookey asks, ‘where? Where from?’

‘I told you,’ Dave says flatly, ‘there will be millions. The population was at fifty million when it started… A few thousand kills is nothing.’

‘Not now though, we’ve got to get Nick,’ Lani says, ‘punch through, just go…’ she urges.

‘We can’t leave the fort.’

‘It’s moving,’ Dave cuts in again.

‘What?’ I shout in disbelief. We wait in silence for another flash of light. At the same time as thunder splits the air apart, we see a multitude of forks hitting the wall. It is moving, inching closer every second. The weight of it must be immense, there must be thousands not only holding it in place but pushing it along. More than that as the numbers of the killed in those mound were well into the thousands. Staggering in scale, terrifying in the noise of the storm.

A vicious wind starts to pick up, a low groaning noise that quickly grows to a wild howl. It’s so powerful it buffets the Saxon on its hinges. Crackle and static from the radio, the atmospheric conditions so bad it’s rendering the transmission from the van just a few feet behind us to a broken hiss.

‘TURN BACK,’ Clarence transmits again and again. Closer now, the wall keeps coming, so solidly made it sends little waves of surface water scooting in front of it.

No GPMG, no assault rifles, no grenades, no cannon, no anything. Fucking sawn off shotguns and a few pistols, some axes and an angry dog. And Dave. As good as he is, even he can’t fight of thousands by himself.

‘We can’t stop them, they’re too wide, we’ll have to go back,’ I twist round to stare at the others.

‘I can’t,’ Lilly says firmly.

‘Listen,’ Lani snaps, ‘you’re with us now, you go out and you’ll be dead in minutes.’

‘But…’

‘No buts,’ I cut her off, ‘we stay together.’

‘And do what?’ Clarence asks with a shrug, ‘and what with?’

‘Fuck knows but we’ll figure it out as we go. Dave, how long till they reach the fort?’

‘At that speed?’ He pauses, ‘an hour, maybe an hour and a half.’

‘No boats,’ I say more to myself.

‘Boss, we can’t put people in boats in this wind.’

‘Van’s turned round,’ Cookey yells from peering out the back. I start the turn, driving backwards onto what I know is solid ground. Pausing at the turn we all stare across at the wall of undead, knowing our friends and families are within it.

Think Howie. Think. There will be a way. Even if we destroy that wall that still leaves the several thousand that must be beyond it and we’re cut off from the mainland now, stuck out on this spit of land.

With a sinking feeling of abandoning Nick, and cursing foully, I turn back towards the fort. Nobody speaks and even the sound of the big engine is lost to the calamitous noise outside. The wind is getting stronger by the second, howling over the flatlands so much it whips the surface spray up into waves that roll and crest with no discernible pattern.

Visibility is down to the lowest so far and within a few metres the wall is lost from view. Surely even they can’t keep pushing a wall of bodies that size in this weather.

Slowing down, we watch as the van ahead of us slowly navigates the treacherous route. The rear doors get ripped open, yanking them from Cookey’s hands. Shouts inside as they all work to pull them closed, heaving with every bit of strength they have.

Clarence clambers over into the back, moving swiftly to grasp the doors and heave them closed. Just before they slam shut, we see the corpse wall shuffling into view. It looks dark, black and fucking big. Grotesquely made from shapes so easily identified as once being of the human form.

It’s the coordination that staggers me. That not only must they be pushing at the same time but also holding the bodies in place as they do. Human remains are soft and after so many days left festering in big mounds in the increasing heat, they will be gooey as anything. Pushing them will just cause those at the base to fall apart. Surely the whole thing can’t be lifted clear off the ground?

Can it?

Fifty Three

Physics. Matter and Energy.

The wall is the matter to be moved. The hosts are the energy. Apply mathematics and a logical execution of weight to body ratio and the wall is lifted.

Howie was right, the base layer of bodies would get squashed, dragged and fall apart. This was accounted for once human bricks were slotted into place.

The expenditure of energy is vast. The host bodies now use sustained strength to hold the wall clear of the ground. The weight is distributed evenly between every host body.

Thousands of pairs of hands lift while thousands of pairs of hands hold the bricks in place. Together those thousands move forward in perfect synchrony.

Like a Roman Testudo. Soldiers interlocking their shields and stepping in perfect time to present a solid unbroken line towards the enemy so they shuffle, left and right, left and right. If they wore hob nailed boots on a parade square the timing would be perfect.

The wall is ever so slightly angled back towards the hosts. This has been calculated to prevent the bodies falling forward. The tallest hosts are used to apply pressure to the top of the wall and in doing so they prevent bodies falling out.

It will take time to advance the distance but the infection has time. The infection knows there is nowhere for the inhabitants of the fort to go. The weather is too wild to allow an escape via the sea.

There weren’t enough bodies to stretch fully from one side of the flatlands to the other, but fortunately, the reduced visibility means the survivors couldn’t see that. The appearance of a solid unbroken wall was enough to send them to scuttling back.

To use the terminology favoured by this region of survivors;

Howie is fucked.

Fifty Four

‘I’m saying we sit on it, do nothing and wait till tomorrow,’ Larson says. Calm now, the wild fury ebbing away as he starts scheming and plotting. To take action now, while everyone is so drunk, could be disastrous.

‘And I agree,’ Jacob sighs, repeating himself for the third or fourth time. Ten minutes they’ve been in here talking quietly and still Larson goes on, almost like he’s trying to convince Jacob and Nick of his plans, get them on side and form allegiances.

Nick listens patiently, knowing that every minute wasted is a minute closer to Mr Howie coming, but the night is getting on now so where are they? Figuring the weather must be delaying, them he leans against the wall and closes his eyes for a second. It’s still so hot and clammy and he sweats just standing here.

‘Yeah,’ Larson nods quickly, ‘we see who’s with us, then we strike. Get rid of him. Quickly though cos he’s strong, unpredictable and quick too.’

‘Course Larson, tomorrow. We’ll get it all sorted then but now’s not the time is it, not with everyone drinking,’ Jacob reinforces the message noticing the discrete nod from Nick. Stall for time, keep him calm and just wait.

‘Dirty bastard,’ Larson groans, ‘a fucking cure, a fucking vaccine…a fucking, WHAT the fuck is that?’ Larson yelps at the strangled yell wailing down the corridor between the thunderous claps booming from the sky.

‘The boys,’ Jacob spins round to lunge out the door and sprint down the corridor, with Nick and Larson right behind him.

‘COME HERE,’ the Doc’s orders. Loud, angry and drunk it floats clearly down the hall from the boys room, bringing Jacob to a sudden stop. The instinct has already been ingrained not to stop the Doc doing what he wants, ignore everything and turn a blind eye.

‘Wait,’ Larson hisses from right behind them, ‘don’t go in… Listen we got to be cool about this.’

‘NOOOO.’ A terrified wail from a young boy whilst others cry in abject fear. More scream and add to the terror from within. Lightning flashes across the three men as they come to a stop outside the door. Nick gets ready, his eyes fierce and determined staring between the two men.

‘I said TOUCH IT,’ the Doc roars from the other side of the closed door, ‘TOUCH IT NOW!’

‘I’m going in,’ Nick growls.

‘You ain’t’ Larson snaps stepping in front of Nick.

‘Get out the way,’ Nick stares at the guard leader, eyes fixed and unblinking.

‘Who the fuck do you think you are?’ Larson hisses, ‘fuck off you little cunt, we ain’t going in there are we Jacob?...I said…Are we Jacob?’

‘THAT’S IT…TOUCH IT…TOUCH IT PROPERLY.’

‘Move,’ Nick snarls.

‘Jacob, get this fucker away from me, we wait till tomorrow.’

‘Larson we can’t…’

‘What Jacob?’ Larson turns on the other guard, ‘we can’t what?’

‘We can’t leave them,’ Jacob mutters, torn between what to do. The sounds of crying are clear, the boys are being terrorised but Jacob has seen what the Doc can do. The man terrifies him, his temper and brutal violence. The size of him, with those huge hands and the wild eyes he gets.

‘We fucking can and we fucking will,’ Larson snaps, stepping to the side to block Nick trying to move past him. ‘Do that again Nipper and I’ll fucking have y…’ the words cut off as Nick lunges in with a quick headbutt, slamming his forehead into Larson’s nose. As the man staggers, Nick moves in with quick hard punches, striking into the man’s face until he goes down under a flurry of blows.

Once down Nick jumps back, unaware of the shock on Jacob’s face at the speed the young lad moved at. Grabbing the door handle he wrenches it open, surging into the big dormitory.

The sight that greets him is one of pure evil. The Doc, the huge, rangy, sinewy man standing centrally amongst the boys forced into kneeling positions in a circle around him.

Bright forks and violent, crackling sheets burst through the sky one after the other. He is naked from the waist down but still has his shoes on, trousers and pants dumped nearby. Standing there with a swollen erection while he moves from boy to boy, forcing them to reach out and touch him.

‘GET OUT,’ The Doc roars with intense fury. ‘LARSON…’ the Doc slaps the boy touching him, a back handed strike that sends the boy flying off to hit a wooden footboard with a sickening crunch of bones. ‘GET OUT GET OUT,’ the Doc rages again, turning towards Nick with his manhood standing proud. Boys scream and cry, cowering down from the attack, the lightning, the sexual assault and the wind howling to rattle the wooden framed windows.

‘Cunt.’ Nick moves forward, fists clenched and eyes fixed on the huge form of the fraudulent doctor.

‘Nick!’ Jacob shouts in warning, trying to reach out and pull the lad away.

‘HERE…UP HERE…’ Larson screams at the top of his voice, ‘GUARDS UP HERE…’ bleeding heavily from his nose, he flicks his gaze quickly between the open door to the dormitory and the stairs.

Jacob holds the shotgun but the man is struck senseless, rooted to the spot in shock as he watches Nick charge weaponless at the half naked man.

With a yell, the Doc feels the psychotic rage descend once more. To be disturbed at this time, to be seen doing this and he will unleash hell on this young newcomer. The temper flares and breaks, as he lashes out with one shoe clad foot, slamming into the face of a child which sees him careering away like a doll.

The boys become objects to be trashed, things that are in his way. Full of perverted sexual craze, he starts rampaging with blind ferocity.

Nick moves fast, seeing the damage being wrought. Charging full on, he lunges at the Doc with a roar, only to be grabbed and lifted bodily off the ground by two strong hands and flung aside, sailing through the air to land in a crumpled sprawling heap.

Refusing to be stunned, Nick twists as he strikes the ground. Rotating his body to face up and expecting to see the Doc coming in for the after attack.

Thunder booms within the room, too close and too loud. The shotgun blast drowns every other sound as Jacob pulls the trigger at the first guard appearing at the top of the stairs. The shaven headed, drunk man is taken from his feet by the power of the pellets striking him in his chest. Larson lunges for Jacob, weaving to the side as Jacob pulls the trigger for the second barrel.

Nick and the Doc land in a heap, fighting viciously as more guards appear at the top of the stairs. The Doc, in full on rage now, stamps and kicks his way through the room. Still half naked and erect, the blood hammers through his system. Lust, fury, violence and psychosis erupt as he grabs beds and launches them with ease across the room. Boys are sent flying, some crawling away sobbing from blind terror.

The Doc stalks towards Nick, smashing everything in his path. There is bedlam at the top of the stairs as Jacob fends Larson off to gain his feet and stagger into the dormitory slamming the door shut.

This has all gone wrong, horribly wrong. Jacob has made it clear which side he chooses, firing at his own comrades and killing one of them. He then tried to shoot Larson, and made the deadly mistake of missing.

Miraculously, Nick still holds the shotgun and his panicked fingers work to break the barrel in an effort to re-load. All the time he pushes his back against the door trying to prevent it being opened.

Where the hell is Dave? Where is Clarence to come charging into the room full of Viking fury to tear the Doc to pieces? Where is Meredith launching through the eye with her fearless courage?

‘Fuck,’ Nick gasps, staring up at the demented man coming at him with a wild, feral look.

Fifty Five

‘Maddox, we need the gates barricaded from the inside, both gates…’

‘On it,’ he turns away shouting orders at his crews who are already bursting away.

‘Weapons from the armoury, get everything out and ready and all the ammunition, shotguns, sawn offs, rifles fucking everything,’ I shout at Blowers who is just a few feet away. The noise of the storm drowns out my normal voice, and I haven’t got time to be repeating myself.

The rain drives down and despite the high walls, the gusts of wind are incredible in strength. Tents have already been ripped from the ground to get buffeted against the side. The howling, whistling noise of the wind, coupled with the thunder, is a full on assault of the senses. The rain lashes in from every direction from the twisting wind.

Surface water stands everywhere, the ground simply too hard and dry to absorb it.

‘They can’t get through or round so they’ll go over,’ I shout at the people gathered round me, ‘spread the word, we need everyone on the walls, let them come over the first one so we can fire down with whatever we’ve got left, then we meet them on the top of the inner walls. There’s no way out of this, they’re coming…’

Fucking shotguns and rifles. That’s it, oh and a few pistols too but against thousands? We are royally fucked and we know it.

We can’t even punch out with vehicles, the water on the ground outside is too deep for nearly all our vehicles now.

Sorry Nick, we were coming mate I promise. That hurts more than anything. Not that they’re coming for us again but that we left Nick on his own. I really cannot see a way out of this, not this time. There’s too many and without weapons we simply don’t have a hope in hell.

Yeah, Dave can kill faster than anything alive, but he can’t stop all of them. They’ll get inside and they’ll take everyone.

‘That’s it,’ I shout at the waiting faces, ‘there’s no plan this time, no way out. We fight until the last one falls…’

‘Again,’ Dave adds. Everyone stares at him but he just looks back blandly and shrugs. He stares at me and smiles, a sudden, startling grin that stuns every single one of us.

‘What?’ He asks as though we’re all idiots, ‘it doesn't end here.’

‘Dave… I…fucking speechless mate.’

‘That’ll be a first then,’ Lani quips, with a quick roll of her eyes.

Taking a step closer to me so she can be heard over the storm, Lilly stares with unsuppressed concern. ‘I have to get out, I am getting out… Billy is on his own and I promised Nick…’

‘There’s no way through…’

‘Listen, thank you for everything you have done but I have to leave,’ she cuts me off speaking politely but very firmly.

‘Lilly, I get it. Nick is one of us and leaving him alone is against everything we stand for but there is simply no way through this. We might stand a chance punching through with the Saxon but that means taking people from here which we just can’t do.’

‘What about Dave,’ she demands on the verge of panic, ‘you said…Nick said he can do anything…’

‘We can’t lose Dave from here,’ I reply as softly as possible, given the fact of having to shout.

‘I wouldn’t leave,’ Dave adds.

‘I’ll go,’ Roy steps in, shouting to be overheard he looks first at Lilly then at me. ‘One won’t make that much difference against so many and my bow is no good in this weather anyway.’

‘Yes! Please Mr Howie, please… I have to get Billy and you can’t just leave Nick on his own.’

‘Stop saying it like that,’ Lani flares up, ‘and grow up. We’d never leave any of our team anywhere and any one of us would risk everything to save a child but we’ve hundreds of people here to defend.’

‘Oh god,’ the girl cries, ‘I just can’t leave him, please Mr Howie, let Roy take me, please.’

‘Roy, you sure?’ I ask trying to work out the motivation behind it.

‘Definitely,’ he nods, ‘the storm is good cover and I’ve got night vision glasses, that gives me an advantage. If you can make a hole with the Saxon to get me through in a van…’

‘Just take the Saxon.’

‘No point Mr Howie, can’t fit loads of children in that thing.’

‘You can,’ Clarence cuts in, ‘they’ll fit and it’s about the only thing we’ve got that’ll get through that lot and keep going in this weather, this wind will have a van over on its side.’

‘No offence Roy, but what’s one man going to do against a house full of people?’

‘No offence Mr Howie but the girl is right, she made a promise and you can’t leave her brother alone. If we all die here tonight he'll be left on his own, we have to get the girl out… if nothing else I can get a message to Nick letting him know the situation here, and also, no offence again Mr , but the inside of a house is dry and I can use my bow.’

‘Do it,’ Clarence urges, ‘it’s worth a shot if even one of us gets through to Nick.’

‘Okay, now then… you go right now while we have a chance. Get the Saxon ready and both of you listen. You tell Nick we tried coming for him, you tell him that no matter what happens to us to keep going and stay strong and you tell him how proud I am of him.’

‘Me too,’ Clarence adds, ‘all of us.’

‘Got it,’ Roy nods.

‘Thank you,’ Lilly throws her arms round my neck, ‘thank you Mr Howie.’

‘You stay by Nick you hear me? Do what he says and stay close to him.’

‘I will, I promise.’

‘Go, go now…’

‘CLEAR THE GATES,’ Maddox walks off shouting ahead. Blowers moves quickly, getting two sawn offs and a load of shotgun cartridges he hands them over.

We push them into the Saxon and we slam the doors closed, the youths moving quickly to clear the vehicles from the gate.

Heading down to the front, we watch as the outer gates are swung open to reveal the lake that is now the flatlands. Roy revs the powerful engine with a determined look on his face and I notice Paula biting her bottom lip in concern at him going. Did he say goodbye to her? If he did I must have missed it.

‘GO, GO FAST AND GET THROUGH,’ Clarence roars as Roy nods back, the night vision goggles already on his forehead ready to be pulled down.

Surging away, the vehicle quickly gathers speed, powering through the surface water with ease. No sign of the undead yet, but visibility is reduced so much they could be thirty metres away and we wouldn’t see them.

The Saxon disappears into the gloom. After a split second a dull thud reaches us and the screaming pitch of the Saxon being forced. Straining our ears, we listen as the sound of the engine gets further away.

‘They got through,’ Dave nods.

‘Sure?’

‘Definitely, got through,’ he adds confidently.

Sighing, I stare out for a few seconds feeling like shit for leaving Nick on his own. Turning back, I look into the fort and the people gathered there and for a second I wonder if it’s really worth it. Is this place worth the cost? So many good people have died defending it. Maybe we should just leave it, let the undead have it, let anyone who wants it have it. We could find somewhere else, somewhere far away in the middle of nowhere. Why here? Why this place? Why this fort.

That’s it though, too many sacrifices have been made for us to walk away now. Not that we could walk away if we wanted to, not with that fucking lot coming at us.

Still, Dave says it doesn't end here so it must be true.

Fifty Six

‘Brace yourself,’ Roy shouts as the wall comes suddenly into view from the gloom of the pelting rain. Lilly grabs whatever she can grasp and uses her feet to push her back into the seat. With his foot the floor, Roy knows they’ll have one chance at this. They need to be straight on with maximum power. His determination peaks as the details of the corpse wall get picked out by the headlights.

The impact is bone jarring but thankfully over in a few seconds. The weight, power and speed of the vehicle decimate the small section, sending bodies flying off as it bursts through. The sight of the thousands of undead on the reverse side is staggering, but again Roy pushes on, knowing that to slow now will be disastrous.

Rocking on the suspension as they plough over everything in their path, they make headway, slamming bodies aside with loud thunks as the thick metal plating of the front end explodes heads and breaks bones with ease.

Then it’s done. They burst through with just the apparent lake in front of them, waves getting whipped up by the howling wind.

‘We’re through,’ Roy shouts, glancing over at Lilly who’s sat with her eyes tightly closed. She blinks them open and looks about as a small grin spreads across her face. Breathing a sigh of relief, she nods at the driver.

‘Thank you,’ she says in earnest, ‘I…’

‘It’s okay,’ Roy shrugs it off. For the first time in many years he feels a pang of guilt, that his own selfish actions have forced him to lie and deceive.

Since the meeting with Lilly in the offices and hearing about a doctor, he hasn’t stopped thinking about it. A real doctor that can examine him and check his ailments. A proper, medically trained, actual doctor. He stayed quiet, biting down the urge to leave instantly and head that way. When the team did move out, coming up against the wall was devastating for him.

Offering his services to get Lilly out was a natural step but now, actually being out and away leaves a nasty taste in his mouth. He didn’t even say goodbye to Paula, or to any of the others either. They just loaded up and left.

He has an uncomfortable moment’s self-reflection. After so many years of suffering anxiety and obsessive behaviour, he has become adept at masking emotions and strives to satisfy the never ending urge to be medically examined.

They are good people though, good people trying to do their best and for the most, succeeding at it. Mr Howie is amazing, the way he listens to everyone yet has that presence, that power, which just oozes from him. Maddox too, so young but so self-assured, so very capable and ready to do what it takes. All of them have unique skills which bring something to the group.

Paula fits in perfectly with them. Her ability to plan ahead and execute those plans is fantastic. They would never have got through last night if it wasn’t for Paula, actually, they would never have got through last night if it wasn’t for all of them.

Maddox and his energy, his crews so willing to fight for him. Paula and her planning. Mr Howie and his team so experienced and deadly. Even Roy, taking the runners down with his bow then taking his sword up at the end.

Team. It was a team effort. A real, true team that stuck together and achieved something only because they worked together.

And here he is, deserting them on the pretence of helping Lilly and Nick, while all the time thinking of himself and his desire to be near a doctor.

This young girl is willing to sacrifice her own life to save her brother and he could see the torment in Howie’s eyes at being forced to leave Nick on his own.

He realises he is selfish and self-obsessed. Well that changes right now. I might have left for the wrong reasons, but I can see this through for the right ones. Find Nick and get the children, that’s what matters.

For the first time in his adult life, he stops probing the inside of his mouth, he stops feeling for lumps, he stops tensing the various parts of his body in an effort to detect what’s hurting and what feels wrong. There is a task to be done, a job at hand and people are counting on him.

He never said goodbye to Paula and more importantly, he never said thank you to her either.

A determined focus descends on the man, almost like being seated in the driver’s position of the Saxon does something, changes him, the good of Howie and those who have sat here leave a presence that absorbs into his system, banishing the selfishness away.

Gripping the wheel he stares ahead, unaware that the dark, brooding look the team have has now settled behind his intelligent eyes.

Fifty Seven

‘EYES FRONT,’ Dave bellows at the very top of his voice. Everyone hears him, the gods above the thunder probably hear him. Fucking hell, Nick has probably just heard him.

Eyes snap forwards. We are on top the inner wall now and for long minutes we’ve waited until the wall shuffles into view. Solid and unbroken with no sign of where the Saxon went through.

So big, so bloody big. Just the sight of it is evil. Something from the worst nightmare you could ever imagine, A monstrosity dragged up from Hell

Driving torrential rain, howling wind that threatens to knock us off our feet, thunder booming so close overhead we keep flinching and ducking. Forks of lightning bursting in jagged flashes that give daylight for a split second.

From our height advantage, as the wall gets closer we start to see the undead beyond it. Shapes at first, shadows of darker patches which gradually take form. When they become clear it serves to lessen the fear, for we know this isn’t some magical thing being moved by a means unknown.

There are thousands of undead pushing it. No need too because we don’t have the weapons to hurt them at this range but fuck it, let them exhaust themselves pushing a needless defensive wall.

‘Look,’ Lani prods me in the shoulder motioning for me to look away to the side. Waves, big rolling waves pound and crash into the side of the fort. As I watch, I realise they are getting bigger, more violent, by the second.

It’s like something from a movie or a documentary about faraway places. The sea is immense, with enormous waves cresting with white foam whipped by the wind. A living thing that we have only seen as a calm placid beast for the last two weeks. To think we were swimming in these same waters a little while ago is amazing.

The storm moves up a gear and gets worse. Staggering from the wind, I have to bend over to stay upright and watch as Lani grabs hold of Clarence. Dave simply adjusts his position to let the wind flow round him and doesn't take his eyes off the wall.

Blowers and Cookey grin like idiots at the wind I watch amazed as Cookey gives Blowers a little shove and watches him stagger away in the wind, pissing himself with laughter at the sight. Even now with all this going on, they still piss about and I get a pang of sadness at knowing Nick would be joining in with them.

Meredith stands with her head held high, eyes closed and enjoying the sensation of the wind against her face. Her coat is soaked from the rain but it isn’t cold, if anything, it’s still too hot.

The wall inches forward.

The angles of the two walls means we lose sight as the corpse wall disappears under the lea of the outer wall. The undead spread behind them keep going forwards as though walking through the wall.

Nothing happens and for a second we wonder if that’s it, they’re just going to wait there in siege until we either starve or give up. I catch confused glances from people trembling in fear on the the inner wall.

We know what they’re going to do, so we wait for the first one to appear. Single and solitary, a pair of clawed hands grasps the top of the outer wall. The rest of the body soon follows, a snaking figure with skin grey and drawn in deathly pallor, and lank dark hair that would have once framed a beautiful face.

It looks about while growling and hissing, searching for the next move. The infection watches through those eyes and then more hands appear, more heads and more bodies of the undead.

Slow and steady they crest that wall. I was expecting a violent fast surge but not so. Almost like they know we can’t fight back from our position.

The fear that ripples through the people gathered on the inner wall is visible. Men and women alike shake with terror at the unearthly sight.

The human corpse wall is now being used as a ladder, a climbing frame of limbs and torsos. They spread out low along the wall in a never ending surge. Gunshots ring out as shotguns take pot shots. The range is close enough and a few drop, which prompts others to commence firing and soon the cacophony of small arms fire adds to the thunder overhead, the muzzle flashes dull against the superior flashes of the forked lightning.

The wind increases, a violent solid thing that seems full of fury and rage and hell bent on seeking revenge on us for our level of wanton destruction.

Looking round I see none of my team are firing, neither is Maddox or a few of his select people. Paula refrains as well. Instead, we watch while everyone else takes shots and makes themselves feel better by killing the few they can get, hoping to stem the tide.

They soon fill the first wall and start dropping down, literally plummeting down to the alley between the walls. The first few are seriously injured from the impact, but clearly sacrifice themselves to provide a soft landing for those that follow.

The undead drop to land on the soft bodies. Staggering away uninjured, they move towards the base of the inner wall.

The flow is thick now, like ants crawling along a log, swarming over any object in their way.

I roll my head side to side and start to ease the tightness in my shoulders. Hefting the axe, I feel the reassuring weight of it, the shaft firm within my grasp. Others start doing the same, getting battle ready. Grim faces watch and assess, hearts start to beating faster now, flooding our bodies with adrenalin.

Lani holds her meat clever steady. Dave, as always, completely composed. A look of pure calmness settles on his face whilst his two knives rest with the blades turned up against his forearms.

Blowers and Cookey side by side, both shaking water out their eyes. Meredith grows visibly in front of my eyes as the hair on the back of her neck stands up. Her feet are planted, lips pulled up and eyes – the same as us – are fixed, dark and ready.

‘Dave, get everyone to spread out,’ I call out.

‘SPREAD OUT, ACROSS THE WALL…. SPREAD OUT NOW,’ his voice dominates the scene and makes me smile. They must have heard that, those thousands of undead coming at us. How many times now have they heard Dave bellowing the orders I give. Sure, the odds this time are overwhelmingly against us and there really is no way out of this but we stand together. We’ll kill many, of that there is no doubt, but when our blades become dull and our arms become heavy, they will still outnumber us by the thousands.

‘It doesn't end here? Is that what you said Dave?’ I ask with a pointed look.

He turns and smiles, a sudden quick movement that lights his face up. Nodding at me and then staring defiantly to the whole team, to everyone. Lightning behind him, thunder overhead and Dave is a god of war. He was born to do this, born to destroy.

‘THIS,’ he roars after sucking a huge lungful of air in and his voice matches that of the thunder, rolling and booming for all to hear, ‘… IS NOT THE END.’ My god, the man is transformed. He isn’t the small, quiet man we all know. He is alive, energy fiercely burning within him. ‘THIS IS A FIGHT LIKE ANY OTHER AND WE WILL PREVAIL…WE WILL SURVIVE…’

‘… YOU SEE THAT MAN.’ He holds one knife out in my direction, his arm rock steady and his face shining. That voice of his is unlike anything I have ever known.

Everyone stares at me, every man and woman on the top of this wall stare directly at me, ‘HE IS MR HOWIE AND THEY FEAR HIM…’

The ways he says it with that voice growing louder by the second holds everyone captivated, ‘HE CANNOT BE TURNED…HE IS IMMUNE…HE IS MR HOWIE AND THEY…’ He holds the other knife out to the undead scaling the outer wall, ‘THEY CANNOT HURT HIM…’

Thanks Dave. Thanks a lot mate, really appreciate that pep talk you just did there. Now everyone is staring at me with wonder and awe in their faces, apart from Lani who just rolls her eyes. Blowers and Cookey grin at the sight, knowing how bloody uncomfortable this is for me.

I tell you what though, it’s worked. Backs are stiffer, jaws are set and weapons are gripped, knives, sticks and anything else that can be taken up with such short notice.

I give everyone a firm lipped smile and nod while thanking the gods it’s pissing down with rain which’ll hide the deep blush on my face.

‘STAND FAST AND STAND READY,’ Dave bellows, clearly getting into the swing of being the spokesperson for the latest fort battle, ‘IT DOESN’T END HERE.’

‘We’re fucked aren’t we?’ Lani mutters nearby.

‘Yep,’ I reply, ‘completely.’

‘Agreed,’ Clarence adds.

‘Fucking funny though,’ Cookey grins.

‘Is,’ Blowers nods, ‘secrets out now,’ he laughs.

‘S’alright, we’re gonna be wiped out in a few minutes anyway,’ I shrug.

‘Nah, Dave said we’re gonna be alright,’ Clarence says in a slightly sarcastic tone, ‘yeah, our hundred, maybe two hundred against their thousands…’

‘Oh well, we’re here so best get on with it, lads for what it’s worth…What?’ I stop as Lani starts smirking.

‘Nothing,’ Lani replies.

‘You’re laughing at me.’

‘You always say that thing…lads for what it’s worth it’s been a pleasure…’ she mimics my voice.

‘I do not,’ I exclaim indignantly.

‘You so do,’ she shouts, ‘I’m surprised you don’t have some speakers up here to play rock music and get everyone holding hands while staring wistfully out to sea with your hair flapping in the wind.’

‘Don’t hold back Lani,’ I say with a hurt tone.

‘Well,’ she recoils, ‘it’s all so bloody macho, so…so…well, just blokey…’

‘Er…we’re blokes,’ Cookey says.

‘I’m not, Paula isn’t and neither is Meredith.’

‘So what would you prefer?’ I ask her.

‘What?’ She asks.

‘Go on, so instead of the honourable speech thing, what else should I do?’

‘I don’t know, just something normal that isn’t so…so…clichéd,’ she shrugs at the end.

‘Clichéd? I’m not clichéd. Am I? Lads?’

‘No boss,’ Clarence shakes his head, ‘not at all.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Blowers decides, ‘I never noticed it.’

‘Oh right, well clearly I’m wrong then.’

‘Lani, are you on your period?’ Cookey asks, taking a swift step away as we all burst out laughing.

‘No I’m not!’ She shouts, ‘men! Can’t have an opinion without being accused of being menstrual.’.

‘Mental more like. The lad can’t help himself, darting out of reach of both women glaring at him.

‘Cookey! One more comment from you…’

‘Sorry Lani,’ he smiles sweetly, ‘sorry…Lani…sorry Lani…Lani? Sorry Lani.’ He steps closer and closer with the look of a child on his face, facing down but peering up with sad puppy eyes. She huffs and puffs for a second but crumbles and starts smiling, then grinning until she bursts out laughing.

‘Ah,’ Cookey shouts, ‘you love us really.’

‘Yeah I do,’ Lani laughs, ‘bloody idiot.’

‘Paula,’ he turns the charm round with a big grin.

‘Don’t even try it,’ she snaps.

‘Paula, sorry Paula…Paula? Sorry Paula,’ he goes full puppy dog mode now, drooping his shoulders and making his eyes wide. ‘Paula? I am sorry Paula…Don’t be angry…’ he shuffles closer looking at the ground, then glancing up he gives a little huff as though about to cry. Blowers almost wets himself at the sight, even I’m laughing hard and can hear Clarence chuckling away.

‘Yes alright!’ Paula tries snapping but can’t help herself and laughs, shaking her head at the absurdity of it all.

‘Yes!’ Cookey shouts, ‘you love us too don’t you Paula, don’t you Paula, don’t you…’

‘Yes,’ she shouts, ‘I love you all.’ She shouts at the very moment the thunders stops, making everyone turn to face her with puzzled glances.

‘Alex!’ Dave shouts.

‘Yes Dave, sorry Dave,’ he steps back in beside Blowers.

‘We have a big horde coming at us Alex.’

‘Yes Dave.’

‘So now is not the time for high jinks.’

‘No Dave, sorry Dave.’

‘Anymore and you’ll be brewing up for the rest of your life.’

‘Which is about twenty minutes by the looks of it.’

‘Alex!’

‘Sorry Dave, I didn’t mean it.’

‘You’ll be lucky to see the next twenty minutes if you carry on like that.’

‘Yes Dave.’

‘Dave, were you ever a Sergeant by any chance?’ Clarence calls out.

‘No, rank didn’t really apply in my unit.’

‘Oh, shame. Suits you.’ The big man says as he hefts his axe, ‘not long now by the looks of it.’

Turning back, I blanch at the sight of the undead now pouring over the wall and dropping onto the soft layer of bodies underneath. Dave edges forward to look down, nodding as he does so.

‘They doing it again?’ I ask.

‘They are Mr Howie, using themselves as a base to climb…DON’T JUST STAND THERE…SHOOT THEM.’ He shouts at a group stood nearby, rooted to the spot in fear. They physically jump at his voice and quickly aim down to recommence the firing.

‘If anyone gets away from this, find Nick,’ I call out.

‘Will do,’ Blowers nods seriously. The joking is done now, the humour gone. We grip our weapons and wait as the wind builds to what must be hurricane force. The rain pelts so hard it almost stings, like pinpricks jabbing again and again at our skin.

The thunder builds stronger and deeper, rolling claps that split the air apart with forked lightning. A huge, jagged flash crackles the air, lancing down to strike the top of the outer wall, flinging undead aside like they are made of paper. The static in the air from being so close is bizarre, like standing near one of those Tesla machines.

‘Howie,’ Lani calls my name as softly as the roaring noise will allow. Turning round, she’s next to me, smiling up with kindness in her eyes. She kisses me softly on the lips, ‘I love you,’ she mouths. For a second I am lost as my heart soars and booms like the thunder above.

‘I love you too…with all my heart I love you…’

‘INCOMING,’ Dave’s voice roars from behind me but I hold still, pausing as I refuse to let those filthy fucking things take this away.

‘Always and forever Lani.’ Our eyes hold as the line bursts to activity, ‘whatever happens…’

‘Go…’ she looks at me with such intensity it strikes my soul, ‘go now Howie, do your thing, do it…do it now…they need you…’ She speaks quickly, searching my eyes for the spark that drives the undead away. ‘There it is, there’s my Howie,’ she says as the rage starts building inside me. The growling, hissing, fetid stench of them offends me. They’ve driven Nick apart from the group, they’ve used my family and friends’ remains as a fucking ladder and they just ruined the happiest moment of my life. They will pay.

Rolling my head, I lift my axe high in challenge as I walk towards the undead cresting the top of our wall.

My spine ripples as electric current runs down my arms, strength floods into my legs and my vision becomes crystal clear. I can see every drop of rain as it falls and feel every variance of the wind as it buffets my face.

Breathing harder, heart booming. They can’t turn me. My grip is strong on the axe shaft. You failed to turn me. Striding forward, I see the first hands grip the ledge. The alley between the walls is thick with them and more are coming, pouring over the outer wall.

Running down I burst in front of the line with my axe raised and ready, timing it perfectly as the first one gains his feet to bare those filthy teeth at me. An uppercut takes him clean off his feet and sends him sailing high into the air to fall slowly down amongst his own kind.

The first blood of the battle is spilt and they surge up hard, reaching for the ledge to start levering themselves over.

Roaring, we attack with sheer brutality, hacking, stabbing and killing anything that crests our wall. Men with sticks batter them, women with kitchen knives stab down into faces.

Clawed hands reach out and grab ankles, ripping people from their feet to pull them down into the seething mass beneath.

Fury erupts on both sides. The wind, the rain, the thunder and lightning, it’s all forgotten as the battle begins. Lani to one side, Dave to the other and my team stretched out. Meredith comes into her own and savages with immense speed and precision, biting fingers and hands clean off as she rags and gnashes.

It only takes a few seconds for them to push us back. The surge is so strong we have no choice but to give ground. If anything, though, it serves us better as fighting down was harder. Now we’re on the same level and can use our vast experience of hand to hand combat.

The tempo of the fight gets faster and faster. Driving deep amongst them, like water I glide to be where I need to be. They fall away from me, my axe becomes light as a feather and as with before, it is an extension of my body. I do not think, nor do I really see them. They are there and I am here but every blow is where it needs to be.

The power grows and I get faster and stronger. It grows more and yet I speed up again, slicing left, right, forward and round. They are slow now, so very slow and the faster I get the more they wilt back. They physically pull away from me, faces contorted with hungry rage becoming twisted in fear. They scream and wail as I cut them down.

Still it grows, far stronger than ever before and still, I get faster. I can feel pure energy pouring from me.

They fear you Howie.

They do fear me. I am Howie and you fear me. It’s suddenly like I can tap into what I felt before. By opening my mind and accepting what I am, I allow the full scope of my energy to come in. It floods through me and tingles every cell in my being.

A feeling of calm euphoria comes over me and I go deeper, cutting whole sections down. Dave is off to my side spinning gracefully, but it looks slower than before. He does everything the same as before, but slower. Only it’s isn’t him being slower, it’s me being faster. My speed matches his and for the first time I match him kill for kill. He glances over and smiles, his eyes full of pride and love. We fight closer until we’re side by side.

‘Finally,’ he mutters.

Then together, we go to work.

I do not know how much time passes us by. All I am aware of is the axe, Dave and the undead. That’s it. Dave and I move together as one. We drive a path through them, laughing and smiling. Dave is actually laughing as we work side by side. He throws his head back and laughs in the face of these foul creatures. His knives flick out, my axe hammers home and nothing can touch us.

We go right through the middle and come out by the edge. Grinning, we turn round and start back in. They die and fall, never to get back up. Blood everywhere, gore coating us as Meredith breaks into our gap and joins our spree. Leaping to tear throats out, her teeth wrenching and slashing left right and front. She is so strong and so fast. Perfectly built to use her weight, strength and violence to destroy these things.

Like surfing on a wave, I let the power of it pull me along and instead of letting the fear grip me at the sight of the huge wall of water above me I simply let it be.

I can’t leap like Dave, nor can I twist, pivot or move like him. I will never, never have his grace or fluidity of movement. It’s the same with Meredith. The pair of them were born to do this, designed by nature to be as perfect as they can be.

The undead cease to be anything that was once human. They are simply things to be taken away from here.

The storm rages overhead, a brutal storm of power unknown, certainly never seen before in this country and while that storm displays the true awesome might of nature, we fight to survive.

I know men and women all around me are dying. The survivors from the fort so bravely fighting are getting taken down. Blowers and Cookey fight with their usual savagery, constantly covering each other’s flanks and backs. Lani is fast, moving more and more like Dave, letting her athleticism outmanoeuvre them as she whips that cleaver back and forth. Clarence goes for the full berserker, a rampaging bull elephant of immeasurable strength.

Paula is amongst them, fighting with fear and determination. The emotion of the battle is clear on her face but she fights and moves well.

Maddox is incredible, fast and strong and with just one knife he stabs and cuts anything that gets close to him. It’s the same with his youths especially Jagger and Mohammed. Vicious and small they dance and skip, fighting together.

But. They are still too many. Even now, in this zone and matching Dave with his kill, rate we cannot ever hope to hold them back, let alone stand a chance of success.

All we can do is keep going, that’s it. That’s all we have.

Fifty Eight

Panic everywhere. The boys screaming and running, some hiding under beds and others sat completely still too stunned to do anything. Carnage and noise fills the room as the Doc rampages with the thunder booming outside.

Fumbling, Jacob feels panic grip him. Trying to reload the shotgun, it slips from his hands and bounces away from the door. It bursts open in the sudden absence of anyone holding it closed and he gets knocked flying forwards.

Rolling away, he tries to scoop the gun up on the way but misses. Shoulder slamming into the wall, he scurries towards the shotgun as the guards burst into the room.

With a speed that belies his size, the Doc crosses the room and grabs hold of Nick. Two strong hands grip Nick’s neck to lift him bodily from the floor. Gripping the Doc’s wrists, Nick feels his feet leaving the ground and the almighty pressure on his throat. He is unable to draw breath and knows the Doc could snap him like a twig.

The rage is too much though to allow for conscious thought or planning. The Doc could kill Nick outright right there but he doesn't, instead he launches Nick off to the side with a strangled roar.

Nick sees the disaster unfolding as he flies through the room. Guards pour into the room, drunk and angry, Larson, right in the middle, still bleeding heavily. Children scatter everywhere and at least one of them is lying on the floor unmoving.

Nick lands on something hard and feels it splintering underneath his weight. Something wooden that thankfully breaks his drop. Winded and dazed he lifts his head to see the Doc charging for him again.

‘Fuck it,’ he gasps rolling off to the side wondering where the hell Jacob is and why he let the others in.

Jacob is on his feet, shotgun grasped but useless as a firearm with the cartridges now scattered all over the dark room. He uses it as a club instead, swinging out at the guards. All of them are too drunk to have thought to grab their own weapons, so for a few seconds Jacob is able to fend them off by taking wild swings that connect with a few skulls.

Stamping down, the Doc narrowly misses Nick’s head as he rolls away. Another stamp and Nick rolls again, rolling over and over to escape those hard feet driving his skull in.

Striking the wall, he has nowhere left to go so he springs to his feet ignoring the dizziness and pain. Leaping off to the side to avoid the Doc lashing out, Nick is not quick enough and he feels a hand grab the back of his hair, ripping him off his feet again as he gets launched back to where he landed a minute ago.

Landing amongst whatever he broke during his last descent, he gets a fleeting idea of what it must be like for the zombies when Clarence starts throwing them about; not nice, not nice at all.

Scrabbling to get back up, his hand presses down on something hard. A signal gets sent from his brain to that hand to grip it, take hold and bring it up as you stand.

Without realising it, Nick grasps the object as he gets up, darting off to avoid the incoming psychotic man.

This time he moves further away, crossing to the other side of the room. Seeing a boy sitting stunned on the floor, he reaches down and pushes the lad hard under the nearest bed before dancing back towards the windows.

Jacob swings out again but these men are good at one thing, and that’s fighting while drunk. Many a bar room brawl has been enjoyed and they take to it like a duck to water. Charging in, feinting left and right to take Jacob off his feet. The darkness causes confusion, only the strobe like effect of the storm giving any illumination. The noise is immense from the thunder, the wind, the boys screaming, the Doc roaring and the men all shouting. They hit each other in the chaos as Jacob lashes out as hard as he can.

Nick gains the area by the window, staggering from the repeated quick succession of blows. Fucked this up. No sign of Howie or Dave and unless they get inside this very room within the next minute there’ll be no point.

The Doc will kill him, the men will kill Jacob. Then Larson will tell them about the Doc and they’ll all go at it. The Doc’ll kill a few of them but they’ll get him down and then what? What happens to these boys left with whatever psychotic nutters are here?

I’m fucked. Royally and completely fucked. Still, that kiss with Lilly was worth it. He allows himself a slight smile as the Doc comes at him once more. He’s still half naked and, bizarrely, he still has a fucking hard-on too. Dirty fucker.

Without conscious thought Nick hefts the thing held in his hand. It’s part of an old style, wooden desk with a metal frame, heavy and well made. Funny thing is, it feels the same kind of weight as his axe. Same length too roughly and something is stuck on the end. Glancing down he notices a chunk of metal, same shape, same weight, same length.

It’s a weapon and a weapon he knows well. He has spent hours on the GPMG, more hours spent with assault rifles, shotguns, pistols but above all else, many hours spent gripping a weapon like this.

Fourteen days of fighting. Fourteen days of learning from people like Dave and Clarence. Fourteen days of running, Fourteen days of killing.

Dyslexia is a disability and has no relationship with intelligence. Nick is highly intelligent with exceptional hand to eye coordination. He is young, fit and now highly experienced at close quarters fighting.

The undead were human, so they move like humans. They charge forward on two legs and lunge in with unrestrained fury. They are pumped full of chemicals, chemicals that drive them wild with rage, lust and hunger. Just like the Doc.

All those days and all those fights. Nick, without knowing it, has had more fights than any man in this room, more than any of the guards. More than all of them put together and his fights were not drunken punch ups, but life and death battles.

He can hear Mr Howie’s voice right now, roaring with defiance we will not yield, we are the righteous and we will fight…

He switches to a two handed grip and goes forward to meet the charge, roaring as the anger of battle erupts within him. The Doc keeps going, the psychosis giving him supreme confidence that none can stand before him.

A feint left and the weapon lashes out with a killing blow. Only the weapon isn’t an axe but a wooden shaft with a piece of blunt broken metal on the end which strikes the Doc to the side of his neck.

Nick expects the blade to bite deep, but it doesn’t. He recovers quickly, compensating for lack of blade and goes in again. Only Mr Howie and Clarence use the double bladed axes, the rest use single blade with the heavy flat end on the reverse side.

The adjustment is made as Nick slams the heavy metal into the back of the Doc’s knee forcing him to drop the leg. As the big man goes down, Nick is already going with the next swing, slamming into the Doc’s shoulder.

The Doc screams with fury, never before has someone struck him like this. His size, speed and temper have always seen him demolish everything. The axe hits again, this time in the middle of his back which sends him sprawling out. Screaming in pain he rolls too late as Nick takes his turn to stamp down, connecting his heavy assault boot to the Doc’s exposed groin and his rapidly deflating penis.

Pain explodes in his groin as he doubles over, instinct screaming to move, move now before the next blow comes. He surges up, biting down the agony. Nick dodges back, in full fight mode.

He swings again and smashes the blunt metal club into the Doc’s face, the satisfying crunch and splinter of bones telling him his aim was true, blood spraying out everywhere.

He kicks hard now, the flat of his boot into the Doc’s face. The Doc reels back from the blow as Nick steps in and swings the weapon down hard onto the top of his skull. He does it again and again and he keeps going as the skull gives way, sending shards of bone deep into the Doc’s twisted brain. His death is quick but Nick doesn’t take any chances and keeps going until the next flash of lightning shows him the man is clearly very dead

With a roar he jumps back, weapon up and ready for the next zombie to lunge in. Jacob is down on the floor with men all over him. Nick charges in, swinging the axe he whacks the first one out of the way before launching into the rest.

Lashing out left, right and front he breaks bones, noses, skulls, limbs as he kicks and stamps with a speed unknown to these men. It’s human instinct to compare yourself to others and in Nick’s case, he has Dave. Comparing himself to Dave he feels slow and sluggish, untrained and without fluidity of movement.

Here, alone against normal people, he is a whirling dervish of power and strength. He is where he needs to be as he tracks and identifies the next opponent. These men react slower then zombies, and Nick soon clears space around Jacob on the floor.

Back they go, driven by a young man wielding a bit of wood with a lump of metal on the end. Men are killed outright, skulls fractured and spines snapped.

In fear they drop away, heading towards the door intent on getting shotguns. Larson screams into his radio for back-up but the atmospheric conditions ruins the transmission.

Nick pauses as the last one heads towards the door, checking the area is clear, before reaching down to check on Jacob.

‘Mate,’ Nick shakes him roughly, ‘Jacob…’

‘I’m alright,’ Jacob mumbles, ‘it were just a kicking…’ He gets up quickly, wincing at the pain in his sides and head from the repeated blows of fists and feet. His forearms feel the most battered from covering his head to defend against the many drunken hits.

‘Boys, listen to me…get under the beds and hide, stay quiet…come on do it now…Billy? Where is Billy?’ Nick paces into the room staring into the gloomy shadows.

‘Billy? Your sister Lilly sent me here… Billy?’

‘Here,’ a little voice calls out from the end of the room.

‘Where? Where are you?’ Nick asks, unable to see anything.

‘Here,’ the voice repeats. There’s no time for this, they have to press the attack before the guards get organised.

‘All of you, get under the beds and hide,. Stay here and wait…Billy, your sister said she loves you and we’ll get you out very soon…Jacob, we gotta finish this now…’

‘Yep,’ Jacob reloads the shotgun and snapping it shut.

‘Now, we go right now.’ Nick runs towards the door, knowing every second lost is a second closer the guards get to their guns.

In the hallway, he heads towards the stairs. He can hear Larson screaming at them to get armed and get back here.

Too late, too fucking late.

Hang on, Larson. His rooms.

‘Jacob, quick…’ Nick bursts away heading towards the end of the corridor, ‘which one? I can’t remember?’

‘Which one what?’ Jacob staggers out of the room holding his ribs.

‘Larson’s room? Which one?’ Nick shouts.

‘There…that one, no next one up…’

He pushes the handle down and throws his shoulder against it but there’s no give. Fuck it. Stepping back, he remembers what Clarence said about aiming for the locks. This is only an internal door so the only lock will be at the keyhole. With a yell he kicks out impacting hard against the door. It splinters but holds. Breathing in he does it again and again, slamming his foot repeatedly against the door until finally it gives with a crunching noise.

‘Nick…’ Jacob shouts with alarm.

‘Hold them cunts off,’ Nick shouts back, allowing himself the luxury of swearing. ‘No fucking swearing my sweaty fucking arse,’ he mutters shouldering the door aside.

Inside is dark, too dark to see. There’s no lights and thick curtains cover the windows. Fumbling, tripping and swearing louder with every second he rips back the curtains, tearing them from the fixtures.

It’s still bloody dark but he holds still, waiting for the next flash of lightning to come. There’s thunder…rain…very strong wind… but no fucking lightning.

‘NICK!’

‘Coming,’ he shouts, wanting to stare at the window like he would be able to see where the lightning is. Staring into the room he waits for the flash to illuminate.

‘NICK!’ Louder now, more urgent.

‘Come on you fucking cunt,’ Nick hisses. It comes so suddenly and without warning that he almost blinks at the retina burn it causes. Squinting, he tries to remember what he saw. Nothing, it was over too fast and he didn’t register anything.

Another flash and thunder roars as the windows shake in their frames. The jagged forks do as bid and provide light for Nick to see. They are overly helpful and strike the house in a series of ear splintering crunches. Glass is blown in somewhere as the wind gets even more ferocious.

There’s something in the corner, something with a long barrel. A shotgun. In the dark his fingers work quickly to feel the holes, swearing under his breath when his fingers find no resistance from cartridges.

‘Fucking empty…Lighter!’ Shoving a hand in his pocket, he draws the plastic tube out to slide his thumb over the bevelled metallic wheel. Instant flame, weak and flickering but enough. Casting about, he finds a whole stack of shotguns on the floor next to boxes of cartridges. All of them long barrelled but better than nothing.

Working to rip a box of shells open, he loads two shotguns and grabs more shells before running out the door.

‘Jacob, you ever shot anyone before?’

‘What?’

‘Have you ever shot anyone?’ Nick asks again.

‘No, no I fucking have not.’

‘Right, you load then and I’ll fire.’

‘You serious?’

‘Deadly mate. Here have these and don’t fuck about this time…’ Nick hands the shells over along with one of the guns.

‘You shot people before then?’

‘Loads, hundreds…fuck probably thousands…maybe more than that actually,’ Nick shrugs, ‘you ready then?’

‘For what?’

‘Going down,’ Nick nods at the stairs.

‘You fucking nuts or something?’ Jacob glares at him in horror.

‘Fucking probably,’ Nick grins, ‘nice being able to swear again isn’t it!’

He turns and starts down the stairs, pausing to make sure Jacob is right behind him. Shotgun up and aimed like an assault rifle and takes the steps quickly.

The first shot is fired by Nick, catching a man running past the bottom of the stairs. The short range and power take him clean off his feet as the pellets shred his torso. Down he goes, screaming in agony but Nick has already tracked away, sweeping left and right as he takes the stairs one after the other.

‘Re-load,’ swapping over he brings the fresh shotgun up to his shoulder. He steps off the bottom stair and into the hallway. Spotting movement to the left, he moves, aims and fires, drops down to one knee to find his second target, moves and fires again. Three down so far.

‘Jesus fucking hell…’ Jacob gasps as Nick shouts for the next gun.

‘RUN YOU CUNTS,’ Nick roars, ‘RUN BEFORE I SLAUGHTER YOU ALL…I AM NICK AND I WILL KILL YOU,’ Ha! Hope Dave doesn't mind him stealing the words.

A shot blasts from the end of the room. Its rifle badly aimed by a drunk man, and the shot goes wide tearing a chunk of plaster out of the wall. Nick pivots and fires both barrels in quick succession, nodding at the scream of pain he hears coming back.

Jacob works with nervous fingers to re-load the guns as Nick takes shot after shot, shooting through doors and at anything he hears or sees. He is stunned by the complete lack of hesitation that the young lad shows and the speed at which he reacts.

They hear shouting from other rooms, panicked yells of confusion. With a nod, Nick leads Jacob to the open front door and out into the driving torrential rain.

‘What about the boys?’ Jacob asks thinking they’re making a run for it.

‘We’ll come back in the side…look out!’ He shouts in alarm as two guards burst from the front door behind them. Nick drops quickly to take aim as Jacob ditches one shotgun and pulls the trigger of the second one he holds. The spread of the pellets hits both men, flinging them back as they drop to the floor. Jacob stalks up to them, takes aim and fires quickly, killing one of the writhing figures before using the butt of the weapon to slam down on the other’s head.

Turning to face Nick with water cascading down his face, he realises what he just did. He killed and took the lives of two men. The wind whips at this shirt tails but there is a grim determination in his eyes. He breaks the gun and quickly reloads with fresh shells, all trace of the trembling hands gone now.

‘Fuck the side, back in the front,’ Nick yells, knowing the idea must be blown out now. They sprint back into the hallway, both of them diving for cover as multiple shots ring out. The men have organised themselves, but fired too quickly. Without choice Nick and Jacob go for the stairs, vaulting them two by two as they race to the top, splinters of bullets hitting to the sides and behind them.

‘YOU’RE FUCKED,’ Larson screams from somewhere on the ground floor, ‘HERE ME? FUCKED…’

‘Is there another staircase?’ Nick asks at the top.

‘Down the end…’ Jacob nods down the corridor past the Doc’s and Larson’s rooms.

Too late they hear the crash of a door being kicked open, then the internal corridor door swings inwards. Nick fires quickly as more shots come from downstairs, forcing them to retreat towards the boy’s dormitory. The impetus is lost as the guards, sobering up fast from the very real threat of death, become organised and rally under the cohesive orders of Larson.

Holding outside the dormitory door, they take turns firing at the stairs and down the corridor, re-loading quickly to snap the guns shut as they frantically think of a way out.

The storm increases in volume, power and energy. With the windows smashed the wind races through the old house, slamming doors and causing the window frames to tremble ever more violently. There’s the smell of burning in the air, smoke from an unseen fire.

The radio on Jacob’s belt keeps crackling, Larson trying again and again to transmit to the gate guards, knowing they’ll be sober and well-armed. The static bursts with his repeated efforts but those repeated efforts start paying off as even without any words getting through the odd gunshot is clearly heard, the tone of Larson’s panicked voice and the fact there are repeated efforts to transmit made.

Nick takes all this in, knowing the gate guards will be heading down soon which is the last thing they need. Fresh, sober men trusted to work the main gate will pose a very serious problem. These people have no care for the boys within that room. With the Doc dead and Larson spreading the word of how the Doc was a fraud, the men will want quick riddance of Nick and Jacob, and they’ll do it by any means.

***

‘What’s he saying?’ The men huddle together in the garden shed hastily erected outside the main gates to Chapsworth House. The storm outside rages with increasing fury, threatening to tear the flimsy shed apart.

‘No idea,’ one of the guards replies, ‘must be the storm fucking the signal up.’

‘Why’s he keep calling? Somethin’ going on?’ Someone else asks. Six of them all stare at the radio held by their group leader.

‘Pissed ain’t they, probably fucking about.’

‘Nah fuck off! They wouldn’t do that, the Doc has a radio…’

‘Shit you hear that!’ They all step in as another burst of static fills the room. They clearly hear the distinct sound of gunshots and Larson’s voice, broken, unclear but panicky.

‘Fuck, right…’ the leader stares round at the shocked faces, ‘fucking get down there. Tony, get the van.’

‘We all going?’ Tony asks.

‘Fuck yeah, someone shooting in the big house? Fuck yeah we’re all going,’ the leader replies, ‘don’t just fucking stand there you prick, get the fucking van!’

Tony moves, pausing as a strong gust of wind pushes the thin, wooden door into the frame, preventing the man from pushing it open. Others join him, forcing the door ajar. Suddenly, the wind changes direction and removes the door from the hinges, pulling it high into the air where it dances on the currents like a feather, leaving several men face first on the floor.

‘Fuck,’ Tony gasps as the door is removed from sight. With the door gone, the wind decides the shed is the next thing to play with. Starting with the weakest part of the structure, the howling gale starts testing to see how much power is needed to take the roof off.

The men stare up, hearing the creaks and groans from the timber ceiling above their heads. The whole structure judders with the power of the storm.

A slight punch to the chest makes Tony take a step back, thinking some debris glanced off him. The others stare at him in utter shock.

‘What?’ Tony asks, ‘oh…oh fuck.’ Looking down at the end of the arrow shaft sticking out of his chest, he stupidly tries to turn to see if it’s sticking out his back, like a dog chasing its tail. The awareness brings pain, a searing agony that drops him instantly.

Another arrow thuds into a second guard, pinning him against the side of the shed. Within a second or two, another arrow flies through the door hitting the same man, securing him firmly to the wall of the shed.

Several metres away, and lost in the gloom of the storm, sits the Saxon, reversed towards the shed with the rear doors wedged open. Roy kneels inside the rear section, night vision goggles on his forehead as he stares out across the short distance to the guard hut.

The crackle of the radio by his side bursts to life. It is a mass produced radio that was sold in the hundreds of thousands across the country. It also uses the same set frequencies over short range distance as the radios inside the house.

Roy simply had to twist the dial through the stations to find the channel used by Chapsworth House. The static filled hiss of repeated transmissions told him something was going on. The gunshots and shouts he heard in the broken crackles told him even more.

Decision made. Saxon quickly moved into position. The wind is exceptionally strong and the rain is hard but inside the vehicle the bow string is dry and the outside elements can be taken into account.

The first arrow was a test. The men inside the shed had no clue that one single, long shafted arrow flew over the top as Roy watched for wind direction, fall and positioning.

The next one was true, the bow held with the arrow nocked and ready. Breathing easy, hands steady and he waited for the door to open. When the wind ripped it away he had a clear sight to the interior. The first one taken down. The second one he put two into his chest just to be sure.

Now he waits, knowing that the men have a choice for he can see the wind working at the structure. The shed was obviously put in place after the event happened when the weather was fine and glorious. It’s a nice shed but it’s been plonked down and not secured to the ground in anyway.

Now, despite the combined weight of the men inside, it is in very real danger of being plucked away.

What do they do? Do they risk being struck by another arrow or risk a nice night time flight in a garden shed.

People are so stupid, Roy muses quietly, go out the back. The shed is thin, a few kicks will have you through the rear panels.

Loosened, an arrow flies across the ground, the barbed point entering the eye socket of the man peering round. Holding his hand out Roy feels another arrow being pressed into his palm by Lilly kneeling silently next to him.

Three down. The only problem is he doesn't know how many are in there. Five to seven he guesses, going from what Lilly said she could see and the size of the shed.

***

‘Oh fuck…fuck…shit…who is out there? What the fuck is this?’

‘Shut up! Shut the fuck up…’ the leader shouts as the three remaining men lie on the floor of the shed keeping well clear of the door.

‘Fucking arrows, someone shooting fucking arrows…like Robin fucking Hood…’

‘We gotta make a run for it,’ the leader shouts.

‘Fuck off John, you think I’m going out there.’

‘It’s a fucking arrow not a machine gun, he can’t get all three of us at the same time,’ John retorts.

‘He’s got a point,’ the third man shouts, missing the unintentional pun that would have been seized on and ragged senseless by a joking Cookey.

‘Well I ain’t going first,’ the worrier announces.

‘Use Tony,’ John shouts, ‘we get behind Tony yeah?’

‘Tony? He’s fucking dead you stupid cun…’ worrier shouts in panic.

‘That’s the idea,’ John roars, ‘they won’t fucking hurt him will they?’

‘Yep, nice one,’ worrier nods quickly, ‘fucking do it now then, go on grab him, you’re the closest…FUCK!’ Worrier cries as John reaches out to grab Tony’s ankle and finds an arrow appearing in Tony’s calf just inches from his grip.

John huffs as he tugs Tony’s corpse across the floor, manipulating the dead weight to use as a shield.

‘Right.’ John and the third man lift dead Tony to his feet and hold him propped up, ‘we get Tony in the door then fucking go for it…we’ll go left and you go right,’ John shouts to worrier.

‘NO,’ Worrier shouts, ‘fucking leaving me on my own, ‘I’m going left with you and he can go right.’

‘Fucking hell you prick,’ John shouts in anger, ‘does it fucking matter?’

‘If it doesn't matter then you go right and us two will go left…I ain’t going right on my own…’

‘Fine, you two go right and I’ll go left,’ John sighs.

‘Your left or my left?’ Worrier asks.

‘We’re going to be facing the SAME FUCKING WAY,’ John roars losing his patience.

‘Alright, fucking hell John,’ Worrier whines.

‘Go left with me,’ John whispers into the ear of the third silent man.

‘What was that?’ Worrier shouts.

‘I said Tony is a fat cunt and he’s too heavy…you ready?’

‘No, but fuck it…I ain’t staying in here.’

Tony is presented to the doorway, immediately an arrow thuds into his chest, rocking the two men holding him from the force of the impact.

Worrier gets behind them as John gives a three count. Tony is pushed bodily forward as they scurry behind him.

Ditching the body with a yell all three burst away to the left while yelling at each other to go right. The first arrow takes the silent third man through the neck, leaving John and worrier trying to run while pushing and shoving at each other.

‘FUCK!’ John yelps in pain, going down from the arrow sent into his meaty thigh. Clutching the wound he writhes in pain as another one strikes his other leg.

‘COME BACK,’ John roars as worrier makes good his escape. The third arrow hits his right arm in the bicep, pinning the limb to his torso. Pain explodes from the three barbed shafts sticking from his body.

A pause then the fourth takes him through the neck, severing his wind pipe and opening the main artery.

With the weight suddenly removed, the wind plucks the shed from the ground and casts it about for a few seconds before deciding to slam it against the big solid wall. It smashes to pieces, the noise lost in the thundering boom overhead. The bodies within fly off to land on the sodden lawn, water gathering all about.

In the Saxon, Roy holds ready to fire. The one that ran off went away from the house. The chances are he’s running as fast as he can and won’t stop until he runs out of breath.

‘Can you drive?’ Roy asks gently, his tone one of complete calmness, ‘take us down the road to the house, go quickly but carefully.’

Lilly moves quickly, clambering over to drop into the driver’s seat. The engine is still running and she pulls the Saxon round in a long wide circle to face back towards the House.

Through the gates she navigates the driveway, going as fast as she dares without headlights, the frequent flashes of lightning illuminate the grounds enough to keep on the right route.

Roy fastens his leg quiver using the thick Velcro straps. Selecting his chosen arrows, he quickly runs his hand down each one checking for any signs of being warped.

‘Go for the side,’ Roy shouts, remembering what he was told earlier.

‘The front door is open,’ Lilly shouts back as the front of the house comes clearer into view.

‘Side please,’ Roy replies. The radio still crackles with panicked transmissions. He can make out a male voice screaming for someone called John to get his fucking arse down here, gunshots clear in the background noise, sharp cracks of rifles and solid bangs of shotguns.

Should be interesting, Roy thinks as he tests the string for any moisture. This will have to be quick, out of the vehicle and into the side door. Can’t afford to stand in the rain and get the string wet.

Always wanted to use this, Roy checks the small lightweight box on the bow, watching as the pure straight line of the green laser shines out. With the night vision goggles on, the light from the laser red-dot sight is perfect. Not something he ever used when hunting the zombies as he didn’t want to give his position away but close quarters within a house should be ideal.

‘Stay here…’ Roy calls out as the girl brings the Saxon to a jarring halt.

‘No way,’ Lilly says, already over the seats.

‘You’ll get in my way,’ Roy says bluntly, ‘people in there are shooting guns and I don’t need someone else running about.’

‘I’m coming,’ Lilly hisses.

‘Idiot,’ Roy growls, ‘stay behind me then and don’t say a word. Stay quiet and don’t get in my way.’

‘Fine!’

‘What’s that?’

‘Nick’s pistol, he gave it to me.’

‘Do you know how to use it?’

‘Yes thank you,’ Lilly answers primly, ‘Nicholas showed me how.’

‘Okay, just don’t shoot me.’

‘I’ll try not to,’ Lilly mutters then immediately feels a stabbing pang of guilt, ‘Roy sorry I didn’t mean that…’

‘Don’t worry,’ Roy sighs, ‘come on, let’s find your brother.’

Fifty Nine

It matters nothing, this speed and ability to kill is rendered useless against so many. Already we’ve killed and killed but a quick glance at the outer wall shows they’re still coming over in droves.

The wind is so strong now, violent gusts take people off their feet to sail a few feet in the air before they land heavily on the soaking ground. Undead and human alike are chosen and plucked away. The water on the top of the wall gathers in deep puddles making the ground treacherous. The thunder is so loud we can’t hear the shouts of each other. The flashing of intense light make it hard to see.

Noises boom all around me. The thunder echoes off the big concrete walls but another sound starts to rise, a crashing noise that to becomes more regular as it builds into a distinct sound of its own.

One word from Dave explains it, his voice being the only thing remotely audible above the wind, ‘WAVES.’

Shit, no bloody way. It surrounds the fort on three sides so I risk a quick glance at the sea and see that Dave is right. I though the storm above our heads was bad but that’s just noise, water and light. Yeah the lightning has killed a few already and blasted some minor chunks from the wall but the sea, that is a raging beast alive with an intense hatred.

The undead lay siege on one side but the sea does the three sides. It throws huge, rolling waves with no discernible pattern that slam and crash into the walls. Now I’m aware of it I start to hear just how bad it is, even feeling the vibration beneath my feet as they slam into the wall.

That staggers me. The fact that waves are hitting the outer wall with such ferocity that I can feel it while standing on the top of the inner wall is incredible.

I gain several moments’ peace before I glance back to the rear of the fort. Spray erupts over the edge of the wall every few seconds. Those walls are several meters high, the sheer power of the waves renders me speechless.

A surge of undead occupies me for a few seconds. I remove one head and spilt the others apart with my deadly axe. I move back a few steps and look again to the sides. With only the lightning to see by, I get such brief glimpses but they show me just how dangerous this whole environment has become. The sea is challenging us, probing at this tiny spit of land sticking out as though it shouldn’t be here. The sea doesn't want this land here; it wants a nice gentle curving bay without any protrusions. It starts working to remove it, like a carpenter sanding down a bulging knot on his otherwise perfect length of wood. But the sandpaper doesn't do it quick enough so he breaks out the power tools, plugs them in and laughs like a maniac.

The sea comes at us on all three sides. Bursting higher and higher as those waves become bigger mountains and deeper valleys.

It gets so powerful that I’m not the only one seeing it now. All across the top of the wall, men and women glance at the waves bursting higher, at the huge crashing noise each surge of tidal water brings.

The undead don’t care but keep coming as the wind gets worse and starts plucking them off the outer wall. The storm has just increased massively, like what we had before was the entrée, the starter soup in nature’s restaurant. The bowls have been cleared, the main course is coming.

What comes defies belief. It is an act of god, of Mother Nature at her very worst. What power we as mankind thought we possessed is nothing. We are but a speck of dirt in comparison to what she can do. Elements, just elements is all they are. Wind, rain, thunder and lightning but they are combined and unleashed to their full majestic might and we are nothing.

I realise now we have been humoured throughout our history of so-called domination of the planet. She could remove us anytime she wishes to do so. Atom bombs, wars, mining and taking away the vast resources of oil, gas and coal, all of those things are tiny compared to what she can do and what’s more, I get the strong impression this, what I see now in front of me, is nowhere near the fullest fury she can reveal.

Waves take the spit of land. One minute they’re crashing into the walls then simply it’s as though the sea swells and they go over it. Huge rolling mini tsunami’s burst across the spit from both sides to meet in the middle with an explosion of water and noise.

Bigger they get and more they come, one after the other in a relentless ceaseless surge of tidal immensity. The pounding against the walls increases, the vibrations beneath our feet physically shake us. The wind, playful before, becomes spiteful and mean and we have no choice but to drop down low. Dave is shouting but the noise is lost, his breath gently taken away by the gusts.

The undead take the full brunt. Refusing to lie down, they continue surging towards us and the defiance they dare to show Mother Nature sees her wreaking vengeance with awful precision.

First, the waves surge past the front of the outer wall. One minute the ground is covered in bodies charging towards us, the next and there is water and nothing more. All of those bodies, all of those thousands of undead are swept casually away.

Next, she shows displeasure at anything trying to stand up. Even crouching down we’re being rocked and moved but standing and you become a kite to be played with. Undead are lifted and taken high into the air, tossed about on the twisting conflicting currents.

Crawling to each other we grasp wrists and legs as we hang on for dear life. Weapons down and nothing matters now, the battle is done. Clarence is the anchor we all aim for and gradually we build something heavy. Maddox and his crews head towards us, snaking across the ground with windswept faces full of fear and awe. Dave down low simply grabs the big man’s wrist and stares out to see everything going on, his face alive with interest as he watches something inherently more powerful and deadly than he.

Paula is with us, Lani by my side. The lads grip onto each other, no doubt making gay jokes about the closeness of their bodies. Even Meredith is lying down in the lea side of Clarence with a few arms wrapped round her chest.

Scrabbling along going hand to hand while gripping anything I can hold, I edge towards the lip of the wall and peer down. The outer gates are leaking water quicker than a tap left on full. The weight of the vehicles jammed behind it just manages to keep them closed but there are enough holes for the sea to get through and quickly the alley starts to fill.

The first bodies left on the ground are lifted by the low rise, dragged along they start knocking into the undead that got down into the alley. More water surges in and the walls act as the sides of a bath trapping the water as it fills, rising higher and higher with every second.

With Dave at my side, both of us peer down and still, the fucking things try to climb up, not to escape the water, but to get at us.

Still, they come only to get plucked away the second they stand up, until the ripple of the idea spreads amongst their hive mind and they change tactic. Staying low as they crest the wall and the fight is back on. A low fight, a battle done with bodies no higher than a crouch.

Dave goes at them, using one hand to stab and slash out and the other to take hold of whatever he can grip. The axes become unwieldy down on our bellies so we draw knives and go for it.

All of us adopt Dave’s method of fighting one handed, whilst we struggle to hold on to each other. Barred teeth still come at us in crab like surges. The faces of the undead appear more violent and deranged than ever before. The fighting becomes gritty and brutal. Clarence is the only one strong enough to use his axe and he swings it in big sweeps left and right, tearing chunks of flesh from heads.

Meredith hunts like a lioness. Staying low she crabs towards the target until close enough to run in, grip, savage and drop down again.

A glimpse to the rear shows me the back gate has been smashed open, water pouring through the gap like a giant fire hose.

Feeling safer now, we fight with renewed confidence. Their numbers are finite again and limited. With the water rising in the alley between the walls, and the kills we give out we know we can get through this.

Perhaps that’s it, perhaps that glimmer of knowledge brings a very slight sense of complacency but disaster befalls us as Cookey screams in agony.

Fighting outwards and being on the ground reduces our ability to scan all sides and the undead take advantage to swarm in.

With the noise of the storm and the howling wind, it takes us a few seconds to realise Cookey has let go of whoever he was clinging onto. Combined yells, as whipped away by the wind as they are, still reach me as I turn to see Cookey twisting round to beat at the female undead biting into his thigh.

Our group implodes as we dive towards him. Hampered by the strong wind and being unable to stand we have to roll, crouch and dive forward.

Blowers is the closest and reacts with incredible violence, literally diving onto the back of the female undead to pull her off with his bare hands. Getting his arms round her throat he squeezes with all his might and snaps the head left and right, copying the motion he has seen done so many times by Dave and Clarence.

With the neck broken he twists first to check we’re getting to Cookey then spins to face the rest of the horde off.

The banter gets harsh sometimes, and Cookey is relentless of his jibes towards Blowers, but never in my life have I seen two closer mates and right now Blowers shows that closeness by plunging in to attack multiple undead on his own. His boxing training shows and even being on his stomach he smacks and pummels their faces with brutally hard blows, using his feet to kick and force them away.

Dave propels himself over Cookey to dive into the midst, joining Blowers to protect the lad and fight them back. We all converge, forming a protective barrier round a very shaken Cookey, lying on his back with his hands pressed round the bite wound on his thigh.

Maddox gets his crews in tight round us and starts beating out, gradually forming a larger circle around us as our team fall back to gather round the injured lad.

Like a father, I love my team equally for they each bring something unique that makes us complete. Clarence has his strength and years of experience. Dave is Dave, nothing more needs to be said. Lani anchors us, brings reason and common sense with a ferocity of love for me, for all of us. Nick is gifted in ways he will never know, the unassuming lad is so clever, so quick and so very capable and if he only knew the loss we feel at his absence. His ability with machines, devices, mechanical and electrical things has saved us time and again.

Blowers, a strong young man so ready to laugh, joke and put people at ease but so ready to step up and take the role of corporal. Always knowing what needs to be done and always one step ahead of me. Hard too, with a street toughness that makes him a highly formidable opponent.

Humour defines humanity. Without humour, we are but another species. Cookey has that rare gift of bringing humour. He shows his heart every day without fear of rejection or judgement. He cries openly and without shame but he laughs more than he cries, he laughs and he makes us laugh.

In the direst, darkest of times there has always been Cookey to make a quip, crack a joke, make an observation or comment that so many times has had us clutching our sides.

Together we are strength. Together we have unity and can survive and achieve. All of those things are a combination of what we each bring and Cookey, he is our spirit. He is the spirit of humanity.

His face drains of blood, trembling with tears already pricking in his eyes to roll down his cheeks to join the streams of rainwater. He stares at me with wide eyes, showing the innocence of his kind heart.

Not my Cookey, the kindest warmest one of us all who just minutes ago had us all laughing as he joked about while facing impossible odds. Cookey who never once doubted what we were doing, never flinched, never moaned, never complained but did everything we asked of him and did it with a smile.

My heart sinks to plummet down through my stomach. Blowers pushes to gain Cookey’s side. His face a mask of emotions that even he, the hard faced lad that he is, finds impossible to cover up. Tears stream and his bottom lip quivers, trembling with fear. With shaking hands he gently lifts Cookey’s head to stare down with nothing but love and horror.

This hits us hard, harder than anything we’ve been through so far. None of us care about the battle now, the storm becomes a thing in the distance. Here, on this sodden ground, we cradle and stare down at the shocked face of one of our own.

‘Mr Howie,’ Cookey stares up at me. We lean in close as our bodies protect him from the wind, ‘don’t let Blowers bum me when I’m gone,’ he tries to joke, but it chokes off in a sob. His hand reaches out, bloodied and slick from the gripping the wound but I take it within my own as Lani grips his other one.

A hot wetness to the side of me, a forceful push then Meredith is amongst us staring down with her big brown eyes.

Tears from all of us, Clarence red eyed and swallowing, Lani streaming. Blowers sobbing and the salt of our emotions mixes with the sweetness of the rain.

‘Show me,’ I croak and bend down as many hands work to gently turn him onto his side. The wound is clear with a nasty bite to the fleshy, meaty rear of his thigh. Not deep and under normal circumstances a quick bandage would see it covered and protected. But now, with the infected blood coursing through his system, he has but minutes at the most.

‘I’m sorry,’ he gasps. Rolled onto his back again and he stares first at me, then at Lani and finally up at Blowers.

‘Don’t be,’ I gasp as Lani sweeps his hair from his forehead.

‘Mate,’ he looks up at Blowers, ‘I’m so sorry mate.’

‘Not you,’ Blowers sobs, ‘please not you.’

‘It’s alright mate. It’s done now. It’s over,’ Cookey smiles, ‘don’t be fucking soft.’

‘Fuck you Cookey,’ Blowers chokes.

Cookey chuckles softly, a soft sound that rocks his body, ‘you love me really Blowers.’

Shit, that does it for me. No way am I letting this fucking infection take him, no matter what it takes.

‘Cut me Dave.’ The small man reacts instantly, his hand flicking out to score a perfect shallow cut across my palm. ‘Deeper, make it bleed more,’ I demand and he flicks again, opening the wound with surgical precision.

‘Hold tight mate,’ I squeeze his hand while I push my injured palm under his leg and feel for the wound. Finding it, I grip hard and knead at his thigh, forcing my blood into his cut. Clarence gets his hand over the top of mine and clamps hard, driving my palm into his leg.

Gritting his teeth, Cookey lies back with his eyes clamped shut. Hands hold him gently as I knead and push in a desperate effort to do something.

Me, do it,’ Lani shouts at Dave holding her hand open. Again, within a second she has a perfect cut across her palm. ‘Sorry Cookey,’ she smiles while lifting his hand towards Dave.

‘Do it,’ Cookey clenches his eyes closed as Dave opens his skin. Lani presses her hand to his, tears and blood mingling with the rain as we press our bleeding wounds to his. Desperate to do anything to save his life and without doubt, if I could offer myself right now for Cookey to have his life I would do it. That prayer races through my mind, willing whatever it is Lani and I have to work on Cookey.

‘The dog,’ Blowers shouts, ‘she’s immune too.’

‘Fuck off Blowers,’ Cookey says through gritted teeth, ‘we had that conversation, yeah you can’t just take the dog’s blood and put it in yours,’ he mimics Blowers voice which has us all smiling stupidly as Dave leans in and whips the point of his blade over the back of Cookey’s free hand.

‘Stop stabbing me!’

Blowers grabs Meredith’s head and guides her in to the back of Cookey’s hand. While I massage the back of his leg and Lani pushes her cut hand into his so Meredith starts licking at the third wound. Her long tongue takes firm, controlled licks of the open cut. The fact that she might have infected blood in her mouth from all the bites doesn’t register at that moment.

‘How long?’ I glance up at Dave knowing he will be timing it.

‘Two minutes,’ he says without a blink.

‘COME ON,’ I bellow at the top of my lungs, screaming into the sky for the gods to save him. Whatever we have, whatever thing that the three of us possess must be worth something, it must be.

‘Two and a half,’ Dave announces.

‘Yes, come on Cookey,’ Clarence grins.

‘I’m not doing anything?’ Cookey glances up with a confused look.

‘Just keep doing it then,’ Blowers pleads, ‘how long now?’

‘Three minutes,’ Dave replies.

‘No way,’ Cookey stares at me, ‘no fucking way…’

‘Yes mate,’ I grin, ‘any pain?’

‘No…’ he shakes his head, ‘just my leg…and the cut where Dave got me…’

‘Stomach?’ Lani asks.

‘Nothing,’ Cookey says in a weak voice as though not daring to believe it.

‘Three and a half,’ Dave says.

‘Yes! Come on!’ I scream with a big grin and feel Clarence pushing his hand harder over the top of mine as though to make it work better.

‘You okay?’ Blowers asks with a hopeful gaze at his best mate.

‘Fine,’ Cookey nods with fresh tears forming in his eyes.

‘Really Cookey?’ Blowers voice breaks with a sob, ‘don’t fuck about now mate, you really okay?’

‘I’m fine, Blowers mate…I feel fine.’

‘Mr Howie?’ Blowers looks at me like I have all the answers, like I will know right at this very point whether Cookey will live or not.

‘Four minutes,’ Dave announces.

‘Mate,’ I push my free hand round the back of Cookey’s neck, ‘four minutes Cookey, you hear that? Four minutes.’

‘No way,’ he sobs staring at me while his hand hooks over my wrist.

‘Yes mate,’ I feel a fresh outpouring of tears from my eyes.

‘Four and a half,’ Dave adds.

‘Cookey,’ I grin through the sobs, ‘your immune…’

Just by saying it, just by muttering those words it makes it a reality. None of us know anything, he could be infected or it could be another dirty trick from the infection but it doesn't matter. What does matter is that right now, Cookey has that weight lifted off him and is given his life back.

Blowers sags down, his head held low as he heaves to get himself under control. Clarence and I slowly pull out bloodied hands away as Lani leans in to kiss Cookey on the forehead.

For once, Cookey doesn't crack jokes but closes his eyes as his own bottom lip trembles. Like it’s too good to be true, we hold there for another minute, all of us bent low to hug the lad and none of us speaking.

Such as my mind is, I can’t help but realise that Dave will still have his knife drawn and ready but even he, the most emotionless man ever to walk the earth leans forward to gently stroke Cookey’s cheek. An act of such gentle care that it takes my breath away. Cookey has his eyes closed and will never know that gesture came from Dave, but that is as close to Dave showing love as you could ever hope to see.

‘Six minutes and you’re fine,’ Dave breaks the silence, ‘get up and get back to work.’

Laughing with delight, Cookey snaps his eyes open and stares up. The sadness gone, the fear evaporating as he locks eyes on Blowers.

‘Ha! Fuck you Blowers…I’m immune…’

‘Oh god,’ Blowers shakes his head, ‘he’s gonna go on about this forever.’

‘Fucking right I am,’ Cookey sits up grinning, ‘you must be well jel that Mr Howie was massaging my arse.’

‘Such a twat,’ Blowers shouts through a grin that stretches ear to ear.

Clarence tears a trip of material from the bottom of his tee-shirt and quickly loops it round Cookey’s leg, tying it off with enough pressure to stop the bleeding.

Whatever this means, Cookey not becoming infected, there isn’t time to contemplate it now. The fighting is still all around us and without my team joining in the others have become beaten back.

With renewed energy we go back to doing what we do best. With fresh hope in our hearts for now we know four of us cannot be turned.

Sixty

‘What we gonna do?’ Jacob mutters as he snaps the shotgun open to push two more fresh cartridges in the tubes.

‘Fuck knows,’ Nick replies grimly, ‘can you get those kids out the windows?’

‘Nailed shut, the Doc had ‘em done so they wouldn’t run off.’

‘Fuck it, we’re trapped then.’

‘You said your people were coming,’ Jacob hisses.

‘Must be the storm,’ Nick says with a sense of isolation descending in his mind, ‘they might still come.’

‘Yeah right,’ Jacob mutters, ‘bit fucking late now.’

‘YOU TWO…PUT THE GUNS DOWN …’ Larson bellows from the ground floor.

‘WE JUST WANT TO GET THE BOYS OUT,’ Nick shouts, ‘THAT’S IT…’

‘COME DOWN THEN AND WE’LL TALK ABOUT IT,’ Larson shouts.

‘I KNOW YOU LARSON,’ Jacob roars, ‘YOU’LL KILL US.’

‘I WON’T…I PROMISE…’

Staring at Jacob, Nick watches as the older man shakes his head. ‘He will,’ Jacob whispers.

‘YOU COME UP,’ Nick shouts, ‘COME UP SO WE CAN TALK.’

‘FUCK THAT,’ Larson bellows, ‘YOU’RE BOTH FUCKED…’

‘See,’ Jacob sighs.

‘We just got to hold on as long as we can,’ Nick whispers urgently. ‘They’ll come, I know they will.’

‘We don’t have much choice really, do we?’ Jacob mutters as they both make ready to fire again.

***

Side door unlocked and slightly ajar, the lights inside are off and Roy can see perfectly with his night vision equipment.

Lilly is right behind him holding the pistol in the two handed grip Nick showed her, gun lowered at the floor treading carefully.

Roy goes slow, each step measured and checked before proceeding. Being inside now, the noise of the storm is muffled enough to gain sounds of the house. He hears shouts from inside, an exchange of words between two or three people, the tone demanding.

Edging closer to the internal door, he pauses and listens before taking hold of the handle to start pressing down. The bow held in his left hand with the arrow already knocked into the string.

Easing the door open, it creaks and groans but the storm masks the sound. Dropping down to one knee he stares into a long corridor, a door open at the other end leading into an illuminated area, the main hallway probably.

Two men kneel at the end of the corridor by the door. Both of them armed and watching out into the main hallway area.

‘COME ON LADS,’ a voice sails down clearer now, ‘THERE’S NO WAY OUT OF HERE, YOU’RE BOTH FUCKED…COME DOWN NOW OR I SWEAR WE’LL KILL THOSE FUCKING KIDS.’

‘GET FUCKED,’ another voice replies instantly.

‘That’s Nick,’ Lilly breathes softly in his ear, her voice trembling with excitement at hearing him alive. The boys must be alive too if the other man is threatening to hurt them.

‘COME UP AND GET THEM YOU CUNT,’ Nick roars, ‘COME ON FUCKTARD…’

The boys are upstairs with Nick, Roy nods gently processing the information. How many men? He can take these two easily but how many are left after that?

Drawing an arrow from the quiver, he props it against his thigh ready to re-load, and he draws the string back pulling the tension into the mechanism.

Waiting, he pauses for the right moment. Either that man shouting or thunder breaking, something to mask the noise.

Thunder comes first, a big, rolling clap that vibrates the house. The arrow takes less than a second to cross the distance. The head shot kills the man instantly. Second arrow nocked, drawn and loosed and as the other man turns, he too is taken out.

Both down without any noise other than their weapons falling to the ground. With the two men kneeling, the weapons only dropped a couple of feet and the sound was hopefully lost with the thunderous booms from outside.

Roy ebbs forward, the next arrow already nocked and under strain. Closer to the door, he can see the illumination is coming from a couple of big candles, one straight ahead and one off to the right.

Take the candles and it gets dark, which gives him the advantage. As before, he draws another arrow to rest against his thigh and calculates the distance and any wind coming from the open front door.

Whoosh and the candle is out. The arrow slices through the tiny wick and embeds in the wall beyond it. Second arrow up, he crabs out, taking the risk of exposure to go for the second arrow. Shouts and shots ring out, panicked shots from men holding the triggers too tight and jumping when the candle goes out.

On the move he has to take a rapid shot, missing the wick but striking the actual wax candle. Roy sighs, not content with the scrappiness of his shot. The thing bursts apart which achieves the same aim, plunging the big hallway into relative darkness.

He bursts out, the laser sight probing the blackness as he sweeps round. The night vision gives him a clear view of men star bursting in panic. With constant movement he takes the first shot, dropping a guard with a clear neck penetration.

Nocked and ready, stepping to the side he hears a gunshot from the corridor behind him. Lilly, catching sight of movement fires into the darkness, knowing she will be adding to the confusion and hoping to hell she doesn't hit Roy.

‘NICK,’ Roy roars then fires again, another clean shot through the chest which takes a tattooed guard clean off his feet.

‘UPSTAIRS,’ Nick shouts back, ‘ABOUT SEVEN OR EIGHT OF THEM LEFT. A FEW UP HERE TOO, WE’VE GOT THE BOYS SAFE IN A ROOM.’

‘RIGHTO,’ Roy bellows, the young lad giving him all the information he needs. Noises fill the hallway, doors slamming, men running and shouting. A shot from close by but aimed into the darkness. Roy spins, drops and looses, the arrow taking the man through his groin causing him to drop the rifle he was holding. The second one hits his chest, straight through the heart. Moving again, Roy aims for the corridor as he hears Lilly crossing the hall in a dash for the stairs.

Covering her run he pauses, hearing the thuds of her feet as she races up.

‘INCOMING NICK…DON’T FIRE,’ Roy bellows quickly. Straining, he hears her voice as she gets to Nick. Good, that’s her sorted. Now it’s just a hunt, the same as ever before. He switches the laser red-dot sight off and starts moving off.

‘Lilly!’ Nick gasps as the girl reaches the top of the stairs and races across the landing. Jacob takes aim down the corridor in case of anyone trying to take a shot.

‘Nick,’ she runs into his arms, throwing her own around his neck.

‘Billy’s in there, he’s fine…’ Nick says quickly, ‘I knew you’d come.’

‘Just me and Roy, the things attacked the fort,’ she blurts out, ‘Roy’s killed the men at the gate with his bow, and another few downstairs.’

‘Take this,’ Nick pushes the shotgun into her hands, gently pulling the pistol out of her grip, ‘you got that spare magazine?’

‘Here. What are you doing?’ She asks.

‘I’ll help Roy, you two stay here. Get the boys ready to come out if I shout to move, okay?’

‘Okay,’ Lilly nods.

‘Jacob, stay with her.’

‘Will do Nick,’ the older man replies. He was right, they did come. Someone called Roy has already killed all the men at the gate and a couple downstairs, with a bow?. Jesus, who are these people.

Lilly breaks away. Pushing the door open she enters the dark room, ‘Billy? It’s me…’

Billy reacts instantly and breaks cover to run across the room, throwing himself at his big sister. She drops to her knees, gripping him in her arms as she cries tears of relief into his hair.

‘It’s okay,’ she rubs his back, ‘we’re going to get you out of here, are you hurt?’

Billy shakes his head, the sobs and utter terror rendering him unable to speak.

‘I need your help Billy, we’ve got to get all these boys over to the door so we can get out…will you help me? Everyone, come over here, we’re going to get you out to a safe place…come on quickly…’ gently she urges the boys out the dark and ruined room. Dead bodies litter the ground. Lilly gets glimpses as   through the room. There are guards and two boys lying near each other. Another man, naked from the waist down, huge and frighteningly ugly, lies further away.

Slowly, she coaxes the boys out from under beds and hiding in the corners, getting them all into a  group by the door.

Shocked to the core and utterly traumatised, the soft female tones of Lilly give the children just enough strength to respond and get into position.

Shots ring from outside the door as Jacob fires down the hallway. Hearing noise, he doesn't take a chance but lets tip before taking a quick step back into the doorway to re-load.

‘Roy?’ Nick calls out rushing down the stairs with pistol held ready.

‘Over here,’ Roy replies.

‘Where?’

‘Bottom of the stairs and off to the right.’

‘I’ll go left then, don’t shoot me.’

‘I got the night vision, you don’t shoot me.’

‘Yeah, no promises,’ Nick mutters venturing off into the corridor. He clears room by room, exactly how Dave showed him. Pistol up and tracking where he looks.

Roy does the same but not from training. He’s skilled with the weapon he carries and seen enough movies to have an idea of how it works. Room by room they go but no movement, no noise, no shouting now, nothing.

Within minutes the downstairs has been checked, each room given the all clear. With only two of them and such a big house the chances are the men have hidden but it doesn't matter.

‘Get the vehicle round to the front,’ Roy whispers, ‘I’ll cover from here.’

Nick runs off, out the front door and into the rain. The wind instantly hits him with such power it almost takes him off his feet. Bending forward, with one hand shielding his eyes, he fights to gain ground, moving gradually round the front of the house towards the corner.

Seeing the silhouette of the Saxon from the forks of lightning, he heads towards it. Movement from the side door as someone bursts out running for the driver’s side. Pistol up, aimed and he fires two quick successive shot. The man is flung back against the side of the vehicle and slumps to the ground.

In the Saxon and he starts the engine, pulling away to drive round to the front. Eyes stinging from the weather, his whole body drenched from the torrential downpour.

Reversing to get the rear doors as close as possible, he jumps down and races into the hallway. ‘Ready,’ he murmurs.

‘Get them down, I’ll stay here,’ Roy whispers back.

Nick vaults the stairs, rising quickly to the first floor where he sprints across the landing. Inside the room, with Jacob watching down the corridor, he finds Lilly waiting with a large group of terrified boys.

‘Vehicles out the front, we need to get everyone down and into the back…Jacob and I will cover you as you go down the stairs and we’ll come down behind you…Jacob, you hear that mate?’

‘Yep.’

‘Lilly, you got to keep them fucking moving, don’t fucking stop…’

‘Okay,’ she replies.

‘Shit, sorry I didn’t mean to swear…. Right…Jacob you ready?’

‘Hang on,’ Jacob steps out and fires both barrels down the hall. Wood and plaster shredded, he breaks the gun and slams two more shells in, ‘now,’ he grunts, snapping the shotgun closed.

Nick steps out into the corridor, taking aim with the pistol as Lilly starts urging the boys out and across the hallway.

Out they go, terrified, crying and sobbing but doing as told. Ushered across the landing and down the stairs.

Roy, at the bottom, glances up to see the group descending. He crosses closer to the front door and checks outside as the first children reach the bottom.

Filing past him into the rain, Lilly leads them to the back of the Saxon, helping them up and into the vehicle. One after the other they get heaved in.

Nick and Jacob work a retreat. Facing back, they go gradually down the stairs behind the children. A noise from somewhere, a door crashes open and shots ring out. Jacob fires both his barrels knowing there is nothing to aim for but sending a clear message.

As though waiting for him to use both his barrels, a man runs into view at the stop of the stairs already firing as another one joins him opening up with a double barrelled shotgun.

Nick takes the first one out, taking two shots and having to re-adjust his aim, but the second man has dived out of sight.

‘WE’RE GOING,’ Nick shouts, ‘JUST LET US GO…KEEP THE HOUSE AND THE FOOD…KEEP ALL OF IT…LET US LEAVE…’

‘DON’T COME BACK,’ a deep voice roars.

‘WE WON’T,’ Nick replies, ‘NOT EVER…ALL YOURS…WE JUST WANTED THE BOYS…’

Silence.

‘YOU GET MORE CHILDREN HERE AND WE WILL COME BACK,’ Jacob adds.

There’s still no response but they get to the bottom of the stairs and out into the rain without further incident. Roy holds position inside the front door to protect his bow from the rain.

The children are loaded up, crammed in but with enough room for Lilly and Jacob to squeeze in.

‘Roy,’ Nick runs back. The two men race for the front, Nick taking the driver’s seat as Roy clambers in beside him.

Doors shut, engine ready, foot down and they’re away. No one speaks until they reach the gates and speed off onto the main road heading south.

‘Everyone alright?’ Nick calls out.

‘Fine, can’t believe we did it…’ Jacob shouts back.

‘Lilly?’

‘Fine, thank you…thank you for doing this,’ she says with earnest.

‘How’s Billy?’ Nick asks.

‘Shocked, not speaking but I don’t think he’s hurt.’

‘What was at the fort then?’ Nick turns to Roy, listening as Roy quickly explains the situation.

‘We’ll go there first,’ Nick says at length after listening, ‘if it’s no good we’ll head off.’

‘They had no weapons Nick, nothing other shotguns and there were thousands of them…’

‘Yeah,’ Nick replies quickly, ‘but they have Dave…’

***

Sighting down the barrel he holds the rifle steady and breathes out, a long exhalation of air that brings his heart rate down. The boys being taken isn’t an issue, in fact life will be much easier without them. The Doc is dead and a high number of the guards have been taken down. A power vacuum has been created and one that Larson fully intends to manipulate to his advantage. A smaller team is much easier to manage.

He could let them go but something tells him that young man won’t leave it at that. He doesn't know who Nick is, or the other man firing arrows so expertly, but he does know these are dangerous people and if they come back? Well, that can’t be allowed to happen.

Steady now. Breathing easily he waits flat on his stomach in the deep puddle at the corner of the house. Absorbed by the shadows, unseen, and waiting. The powerful rifle is ready, the safety off. All he needs is one clean shot and that young man will be taken down.

Watching as the children are loaded, the pretty blonde woman lifting them into the back of the vehicle. That idiot with the bow moving in and out of the front door and Jacob, that fucking traitor, he’ll pay for this.

Ignoring the rain pelting his face, blocking out the driving wind and thunderous crashes, he applies the first miniscule amount of pressure on the trigger. Nick moves back and forth, scurrying left and right as he gets the children out of the house. The pattern has been set, as Nick moves out from the rear doors he can take his shot straight through the back of his head.

The pressure on the trigger is increased. Breathing out in one long steady exhalation, he pauses, frozen in stature as his stomach drops through his arse.

Swallowing hard he dares not move. The cold, hard press of the barrel firm against the back of his head brings everything to a halt.

‘Let them go,’ the voice says quietly from behind him. Larson nods, instantly moving his finger off the trigger he gently slides his hand away, showing the other person he will comply.

‘Can I get up?’ Larson asks. No reply but the firm prod of the barrel in the back of his skull gives the answer clearly. ‘He was a fake,’ Larson adds in a hoarse whisper, ‘the Doc, he was a fake…you hear that? We all put up with him and for what?’

‘Ssshhh,’ the voice sounds out, as the speaker watches the children being manhandled into the rear of the army truck. The way the rescuers lift those children with care, the way that blonde woman hugs the little boy so tight. The soft tones they use, the sheer violence they threw against those that did their children harm. These are good people and letting these children go now is the right thing.

The Doc was a fake. They all went along with it for the promise of a cure or a vaccine, convincing themselves it was for the greater good. The children weren’t bruised or hurt, or were they? Not all injuries leave marks, not all assaults leave bruises. Things could have happened in his offices, and they all knew, yet chose not to challenge it.

The last of the children are loaded in and the two people wait in the pouring rain as the Saxon pulls slowly away to navigate the long driveway.

‘What now?’ Larson asks, as the vehicle disappears into the gloom of the storm.

‘We all knew,’ the voice says sadly, ‘but we did nothing.’ The guilt hits with such overwhelming force that it instantly negates any hope of ever going away. You can’t be witness to something like that and then keep going like nothing happened.

‘Evil triumphs when good people do nothing,’ the voice mutters.

‘Wait!’ Larson detects the finality of the tone and screams out, twisting round in a final, desperate bid to save himself. The shot is so quick the sound doesn't even register, just blackness that takes all form of life away. Larson’s head is taken from his body as the first barrel of the shotgun explodes an inch from his skull.

Tears stream as a heart breaks. There is no going back from this, there is no forgiveness. The barrel is pushed into the mouth as an arm stretches out to feel for the trigger.

God, I am sorry for all my sins done here. I am sorry for what I am about to do. Please keep those children safe.

Meryl sighs deeply. Holding the image of her own little boy firmly in her mind, she smiles sadly and pushes the trigger.

Sixty One

‘Dave!’ My voice isn’t loud enough for him to hear me. He’s fighting close by but facing away from the last surge of undead heading towards the survivors huddled together near the vehicle ramp.

With the sea bursting over the flatlands and Cookey back on his feet we know the battle is ours, with limited numbers they can’t possibly hope to beat us now but, as ever before, still they try.

The sea pours through the gaps of the outer gate rapidly filling the alley. Already it is several feet deep by the gate and pushing out to both side. Water gets through the inner gate as the fort interior starts to flood.

The rear gate went a little while ago and with the huge waves crashing against the back wall that too is rapidly flooding.

Enough of them left to cause us a problem. Hundreds had gained the alley and are now climbing the wall to attack us, and have no learnt to stay low to avoid being plucked by the extraordinary strength of the gales battering us.

Fear has frozen one group of survivors to the spot, huddled together on the floor I can just see them through the driving rain. Figures clinging on for dear life, eyes squeezed shut as they pray for it to end.

The undead have seen them and a smaller group break away to start crawling at the group of people.

I scream and shout but with the noise as it is, there is no way they can hear me. There are seconds to go before the horde reach them so with no other option, I get onto all fours and scrabble in desperation to cut them off. But it’s too slow. I’m too slow like this and I’ll never get there. Still screaming at them to get out the way, I risk moving on to two legs in an effort to get there faster.

The very second my hands leave the ground, the wind hits my legs and flips me over like I weigh nothing at all. Somersaulting head over arse while screaming, my axe is gone, my knife dropped and I land smack amongst the horde.

For a second nothing happens. I’m slightly dazed and they’re looking at me like where the fuck did he just come from.

Flat on my back, surrounded by undead on their stomachs. Twisted, gruesome features leer at me and now the dried blood has been washed off and I can see them clearly. Their pallor is deathly, skin so tightly drawn you can see the cheek bones pushing against the flesh. Teeth bared, yellow and dirty. Hair, whatever hair they have left is straggly, lank and plastered to scalps from the torrential downpour.

‘Hi,’ I nod in greeting hoping maybe, just maybe, they’ll remember I’m the bloke that had the heart shoved in his gob and maybe, just maybe I’ve suffered enough and they’ll leave me alone.

Not so. With growling hisses they start descending like the nasty, fetid pack of undead wolves they are. Sensing my solace, isolated and without a weapon they come in hard and fast.

But hey, guess what motherfuckers? I’m immune so I can take a couple of bites. That changes everything. It changes the way I fight, it changes the fear I have of them, it changes my methods of attack and defence and it means I don’t have to be so careful about where their mouths are.

Grinning like a twat I laugh into the air and actually relish the prospect of an all-out scrap. Their attention is on me now, not the terrified survivors clinging onto each other with their bloody eyes clamped shut.

The first one goes straight for the bite, arms back and head forward he dives in. A scrawny, emaciated looking thing and I punch him hard on the nose feeling the crack as the bone breaks. Fresh blood bursts from his nostrils only to be quickly rinsed away by the rain. Another blow onto his nose , then another and I keep going. Hard, quick punches that batter his face senseless and probably cut my knuckles in the process.

One comes from the other side so I stretch out and get my hand round its throat, squeezing hard while I keep up the punches to the first one. Two more come towards my feet so I start cycling to batter them senseless with the hard soles of my combat boots.

Oh yes! This is fucking amazing. I’m fighting four at the same time. Unarmed and on my own and I’m punching one to the face, strangling another whilst kicking the shit out of two more. Only problem is, there is more than four undead in this horde and I’ve run out of limbs to deal with the others.

Bollocks, getting slightly overwhelmed now. The one being strangled is shifting his entire body weight onto my arm, slowly sinking down towards my face. The bastard being punched doesn't give in either, despite his face now being mangled he keeps coming in for the lunge, so I get that hand to his throat and start squeezing him too.

Shit, two being strangled while kicking at the same two down there and more still crawling in. Not good, not good at all.

With a yell, I drive my hands towards each other and smash their heads together. That does nothing other than apparently irritating them and causing them to start thrashing about in a rather unnecessarily violent manner.

The undead in my left hand drops down to smother my chest and in the confusion he bites into his mates shoulder. The bitten one starts thrashing more wildly and I think the one biting gets impression it’s me thrashing about, so he bites harder, driving his teeth into flesh.

Fuck me, they’re biting each other now. These things are pumped up like nothing I’ve seen before. Demented to the point they’re biting anything they can reach.

I realise there's weight on my legs, I'm being pinned by an undead sprawling in to join the feast. This time I go fucking nuts. Heaving, bucking, striking out, I throw myself in all directions so they can't get a hold of me. Sharp pain on my thigh as some rancid fucker bites into me. With the violence pulsing through my system, I wrench my leg up at the same time I bring my arm down to smash and batter the thing away. Old and decaying, the undead biting into me must be eighty years old and how the fuck it got over the wall I'll never know but here it is, chomping away on my leg. The pain is intense so I go full on nuts, thrashing and beating until I feel the flesh tearing and the bones breaking. Eyes clamped shut, I heave the thing away from me but the pain is still there. Scanning quickly I can see the body lying next to me but no fucking head. Shit, the fucking head is still on my leg. Screaming I grab at the old skull trying to prise it away, wrenching it free to throw at the next one looming in...if I don’t do something quickly, I’m going to be fucked.

More weight on my legs, more on my stomach. Completely pinned now and I’m starting to worry maybe I didn’t think this through properly.

Then she’s there. Meredith. A flying blur of wet, black fur that adds her weight to the pile already on top of me. She’s death on four legs, huge canine teeth lashing left and right, shredding any undead that gets near me. It’s almost like that scene from the film Crocodile Dundee when the Aussie man gets mugged by the thugs wielding a small flick-knife and he shows off by pulling out his own huge knife.

Meredith sees their lips pulled back showing teeth. They ain’t teeth. These are fucking teeth, she growls pulling her own lips back. Hers are far better, and far more deadly.

Within seconds they’re gone from the top of me and I’m able to twist round to start fighting again. The two of us go at it, fists, feet and teeth but with the space created, I can see one of them has broken away from the group and is almost at the group of petrified survivors.

As they still haven’t moved, I have no time to do anything than get up and try to reach him, before he reaches them. Once again on all fours crawling, Meredith works at my back keeping them away.

Diving forward, I grab at his ankle just as he grabs at the nearest person and starts pulling them towards his open mouth. Screaming wails erupt as the group start a tug of war trying to pull the woman away from the undead, who is now inching his teeth towards her foot.

Out of options again, I stand up and fight the wind to get one arm under his throat. A gust of wind so strong lifts me off the ground, my only anchor being the arm I have round the undead’s neck.

Stronger it gusts and gently he starts to rise, the wind lifting both of us from the ground. We rise that extra couple of feet and hit the strongest thermals. Like a kite we get pummelled into the air, me screaming while holding onto the undead round his throat.

Sailing over the heads of the others, Clarence glances up with a confused look on his face that quickly morphs into worry.

The edge of the wall is rapidly approaching and just for a fleeting second I wonder if the thermals over the alley are going to be different from the thermals over the top of the wall.

Yep, they are. There’s no thermals at all actually and we plummet as soon as we get gusted over the edge. Down into the darkness of the no man’s land between the walls.

We land on a pile of soft, squelchy bodies that burst open from impact of the drop. With the wind knocked out of me again, I writhe and keep writhing as I try and move to find out where I am. It’s so dark down here but with the walls so high the noise of the storm is muted a little.

With a sudden jolt I realise I’m still holding onto the undead I was grasping when we came down. He’s not dazed but already fighting to break free so he can turn round and rip my throat out.

Body parts scattered around me, corpses stacked against the wall as an ad-hoc climbing frame for the undead to use, the water level rising by the second as the sea batters at the front gates and pours through the gaps.

Gripping hard and I squeeze with every ounce of strength in my arms, he thrashes and bucks but he’s done for. Thirty seconds later I release the lifeless body. Struggling upright, I push against the water and floating bodies to figure out a way back up.

Apparently Clarence wasn’t the only one to see me coming down here. Several bodies drop from the top wall to land close by. Thuds and sploshes as the heavy bodies splash into the water or amongst the corpses.

I’m still surrounded by zombies and still without a weapon, and worse I’m waist deep in treacherous water covered in floating bodies and the debris from all of our vehicles.

The first one bursts from the water with a roar. How overly dramatic, I mean come on. Why roar? We’re all down here about to have a scrap, after god knows how many scraps over the last two weeks and this one has to give it large by roaring as it comes up through the surface of the water.

Mind you, he looks the part. Big and covered with thick muscles that stand defined from the sudden loss of protein shakes over the last two weeks.

‘Fuck you,’ I shout and give him the middle finger again, ‘I’m immune motherfucker…hear that…IMMUNE!’

Yeah, he’s going to beat the living shit out of me, and his mates are getting up now too. Backing away, I have to push the heavy, floating bodies out the way, bloated from the water and swollen to grotesque shapes that barely register as human.

They form a semi-circle coming at me, the big fucker front centre with his ugly mates ranged off to the sides. Hemmed in by the walls and the water surging in through the gates behind the and more of our vehicles floating further behind me.

Reaching out, my hand gropes something furry. Fearing a rat, I jerk it away and glance down to see the bearded face of Big Chris floating by, the skin of his torn and jagged throat now washed clean and deathly white. His features are bloated but there’s no mistaking who it is and the beard is still so black, glistening from the water.

Lightning overhead flashes, a trick of the eye and I swear for a split second he looks alive, like he’s about to open his eyes and laugh.

These bodies down here are from the estate, taken by these fucking things to be used as objects. Sarah will be amongst them, Terri too. Ted and Steven. Our lads from Salisbury, Tucker, Jamie and Curtis.

My mind snaps alert and I realise I’m not backing away now but wading forward. My eyes set on that big undead at the front. Fists clenched, my eyes unblinking as the water pummels down from above. Wind whips at my hair and stings my eyes but I refuse to take my gaze off him.

It surges up within me, that feeling I had a few minutes ago when I was fighting with Dave. I embrace it, feeling the strength that floods into my limbs, seeing my vision sharpen and focus and hearing my blood screaming for vengeance. Charging at each other, both of us hell bent on destroying the other. The infection knows I’m immune, it must know. It shoved a still beating heart into my mouth but here I am, fit, fighting and unturned. Lani and now Cookey too. Three of us that had that deadly disease pushed into our systems only to reject it, kill it and work on like nothing happened. Not just immune but untouched, unbothered, unaffected and un-fucking-remitting in our desire to stop them.

I remember a big bastard like you. Two weeks ago one your size came at me in the street. I was scared and tried to drive away, panicked and flapping. I only just survived and that was nothing more than pure luck. I remember being wedged almost upside down in the car, trying to operate the foot pedals with my hands. Terrified and incompetent, bumbling from disaster to catastrophe.

But that was two weeks ago and a lot can happen in a fortnight. No fear now you fucker, no fear at all. Just pure, blind rage that drives me on with savage ferocity.

The impact is like running into a tree. Punches and kicks will do nothing to this one and he knows it. His arms wrap round my body and lift me up at the same time as he starts crushing me. The pain is immense as the air is driven from my lungs. With my arms pinned to my side I can’t fight out or do anything other than flail my dangling legs about.

He roars with victory, stretching his head back to scream into the sky, bellowing that he alone will defeat the annoying little prick Howie. Fuck you. I’ve got a mouth too and you ain’t the only one that can bite so I drive my face into his big meaty neck. I pull my own lips back and take a huge bite into the big adams apple poking out. It is the most disgusting and foul thing I have ever done. The flesh tears with amazing ease as I bite and gnash. Copying Meredith I thrash my head side to side while biting in deeper and deeper. Blood bursts and pours down my throat, hot and metallic but I keep going, tearing his fucking throat out with my teeth, widening the bite to go further left and right until I get an artery and tear the thing apart with my teeth.

He releases then, as the sudden pressure loss from his once sealed system drains the strength from his arms. He goes down and I remain standing, victorious. You like biting people? Well I can bite too.

As he sinks beneath the waves I glance up to see the undead staring at me. Not advancing, not retreating, but staring and I can feel the fear coming off them.

‘Did you like that?’ I growl. Locking eyes on the closest I can feel the hot blood pouring down my chin. ‘Guess what?’ I ask with a glance round from face to face, ‘rules just changed.’

I’m up, bursting from the water as I lunge at the closest. He flinches and tries to pull away which is something I have never seen an undead do before, but it’s too late and I’m on him. No weapons, no knives or axes, no guns. Just me with two hands, two feet and a mouth.

Landing solidly I take him off his feet, driving him down beneath the water. Plunging beneath the surface, I grope for his face and use my thumbs to drive into his eyes while I savage his throat with my teeth. Like a wild animal I fight and I kill. Surging back up, I use my feet to stamp down repeatedly on his head while screaming into the sky.

They change as the fear is replaced with pure, demented fury, a visible reaction to whatever dose of chemicals being used to drive them is increased dramatically.

They come at me as I go at them. Wild, unabated and furious we fight. Teeth biting, fingers gouging, hands strangling. Teeth bite into my right shoulder but I don’t feel the pain now, the blood lust of battle is too strong.

They take me off my feet and it’s my turn to get driven down beneath the surface of water. Dark and tidal, the waves are getting stronger buffeting us all left and right. We slam into walls, vehicles and bodies. The salt water gets into my mouth making me gag and swallow more. Eyes stinging so much it renders me blind.

Something lands amongst us, something very big and very heavy, that starts hauling bodies away with the ease of a Nordic giant. I feel a hand grip the back of my shirt and launch me several feet away to land on the top of a floating car.

I cough and gag as the salt water is puked from my body. Slowly, my vision clears to reveal Clarence battering them away. More undead must have come down, for their numbers are greater now. The giant swats and breaks necks. Lifting one up he goes for the human battering trick as he fends them off.

A streak of darkness, a splash of water that plumes up between Clarence and the undead. Dave bursts from the surface with his knives drawn and instantly they are upon him.

Sod this, I’m not missing out, so I slide off the car, find my feet and start heading in towards the fight.

The undead move in, spurred on by the burst of action they charge for Clarence. I grab one and take him down under the water, gripping his throat while I squeeze the life out of him and ram my knee into his stomach. I know that won’t hurt him but the reflex action is to breath in, and what with him being under water and all…well he kind of drowns quicker.

That tactic worked well, so I try it again, grabbing one as he lunges in and using my body weight to pull him down. Clarence is splashing about somewhere nearby, cracking skulls with his hands.

Hands to throat, knee striking stomach, but this bastard keeps his mouth shut and finds his feet, pushing us both up and out of the water.

Using the flat part of my palm, I strike his nose, it breaks so I keep going. Right and left, hard blows that stagger him backwards. I feel his cheek bones break and use my left hand to grip his thick hair while my right hand builds power as I get used to the action.

Pulling him down with my left as my right hand pummels him, I get his head back under the water and hold him down.

Something hits me hard, a heavy weight on my back and a sharp, searing pain on my shoulder. Sinking beneath the waves, I twist and feel the teeth biting into me. Unable to generate power under the water, I have to fight every instinct not to breath in or open my mouth.

It’s a woman with long hair and I try getting a grip to pull her head away. She twists and contorts, getting on top of me using her body weight to hold me on the ground well beneath the surface.

Knees striking up, kicking, thrashing as I desperately try to get her off me. Another searing pain as she bites me again. Fucking idiot must be on autopilot.

Reaching up, my hands feels something. I grab and pull hoping to pull myself up. Whatever it is I grip comes down instead so I pull it harder, realising it’s one of the bodies floating on the surface.

Twisting, I manage to pull it between us. She bites down again and again but this time her teeth sink into the rotten flesh of the corpse and give me a chance to beat my way out.

Feet stamping down I feel the beloved ground and push up, driving my legs to push my head out of the water.

The corpse is still between us and she tries to leap over it. A flash of lightning gives a split second of light to the scene, once again it flashes over the features of Big Chris as he gently bobs between me and the female undead, proving that even in death, he can still save my life.

As she comes over him I reach out and grab two fistfuls of hair and simply pull her head under the water while moving backwards. Unable to gain her feet, I keep jerking left and right while holding her face down in the water.

‘MR HOWIE,’ Dave shouts and throws a knife. It strikes the body of Chris with the blade sinking into his chest. Wincing, I realise Dave had no way of knowing he just used Chris as a dartboard.

Handle gripped and I pull it out, this time nodding an apology at the corpse of the big man. Just in time too as the last one charging at me comes in quick. Diving forwards with a howl I stab out, driving the point of the blade deep into the chest. Twisting the handle, I pull the knife out as it keeps the forward charge up. Puncture wounds pucker his side, in and out the blade sinks deep into his stomach and chest before I finally get a clean shot at his neck, stabbing through the main artery.

With his life blood pumping high into the air I let go and move out of the way, watching as he folds up and sinks beneath the water.

The water is deeper now, above my waist and almost at my chest. Glancing up, I see both Dave and Clarence have finished and are stood facing towards the gates.

I wade towards them but there is a tide now, the water is streaming past me with more power than a few seconds ago.

Thunder still rips through the sky but between those booms and the crackles of lightning, another awful noise of grinding metal reaches me. The gates bow from the force of the water on the other side and the vehicles jammed into that space are now being lifted and crushed, unable to resist the ever increasing force and weight of the sea.

If those gates go this whole alley will be flooded within seconds. With the sea claiming the flatlands, the fort is getting battered from all sides and suddenly the threat of death doesn't come from the infected undead, but from the very thing that saved us just minutes ago.

Unbiased she is, Mother Nature holds no allegiance to man nor beast, giving life and taking it without fear or favour.

‘CLIMB,’ Clarence shouts, wading across the width of the alley. Dave and I respond the same, wading with effort to reach the side of the inner wall.

As the undead before us, we have no choice but to use the stacked and fallen corpses as a ladder. Screeching sounds of metal warping against metal come from the gates.

With the rising tide starting to lift the obstacles put in place behind the outer gates, we know it’s only a matter of time before those gates burst open.

Splitting up we start the climb, our feet sliding into the soft squidgy bodies, hands gripping whatever we can find, gore and body parts coming away under our fingertips. Dave, as ever, climbs like a monkey and gets up quickly. Clarence and I don’t fare so well and struggle with the cascading water pouring down on us and the bodies slipping and shifting under our weight

Clarence and I are only halfway up when the gates finally yield to the pressure of the waves battering them.

Screeching metal, huge thumps and bangs boom out as the makeshift barricade is lifted and pushed down the alley towards us. Huge vehicles, vans and trucks surging along as the tidal wave propels them down the alley.

We can both see what will happen and lock eyes as the first of the vehicles impacts on the base of the corpse wall we’re climbing up. Another vehicle behind it, then another and the concertina effect removes the bodies from the bottom.

Like a deck of cards the wall starts to crumble and Clarence, being closer to the surge than me, is the first to go. As the bodies start tumbling down he nods goodbye and slides to plummet into the roaring mess beneath us.

Glancing up and I can see hands reaching down, I could make it. I could move quick grab a hand and get pulled up but that isn’t our way.

With Clarence being so big, I catch sight of his enormous frame landing in a gap between two vehicles. The bodies falling after him push him down under the surface. The tidal pressure forces the vehicles closer until they’re colliding and there’s no way out of it. He’s trapped under water with several tons of vehicles over his head.

A gap, off to the side. It’s the only chance and I take it without hesitation. Pushing off from the wall I feel myself drop, landing on a mixture of hard edged car and soft, yielding bodies.

Twisting onto my front, I slide across the bonnet and slip headfirst into the pulsing, pitch black water so foul and littered with hard objects that bang into me from all sides.

Groping about I feel body after body and have to work my hands to the head, feeling for Clarence’s bald skull. It’s so dark but opening my eyes makes them burn with excruciating pain. Diesel and chemicals leaking from the vehicles are mixing with the water and already I’m feeling light headed and weak.

Something here, warm and hard. His bald head, his arms reach up feeling for my hands. I guide his grip and pull, tugging and forcing his body out of the confined space. No good, he doesn't budge but tries to push me away, telling me to go now while I still can.

I need air so I break away and rise to the small gap left between the vehicles. Sucking in huge lungful’s I push back down and head under the constantly shifting vehicles, using my hands to grip wheels and exhaust pipes to get along. Finding his head again I press my lips against his and start blowing a steady stream of air out. He gets the idea and holds still while I fill his lungs with the air from my own.

Once done I work down his body, feeling the obstacles trapping him in place. The vehicles have trapped bodies underneath them which have piled up on top of one of Clarence’s legs. Tugging and pulling in a swaying motion, my chest longs to draw air. I try and find something that will shift position, anything that will move and give me leverage.

Again I need air so to the surface, giving a quick prayer that the small gap is still there. Back under and to Clarence first, giving him air before I start groping for limbs and torsos.

Finally something shifts, only a few inches but by straining, pushing then pulling I work it free of the pile. Upside down with my feet against the underside of the car I prise with all my strength until the body finally slips free.

Fearing I’ll black out, I head back up and draw more air in as a violent surge moves of us along by a couple of feet.

Pummelled by the water I cling on to a wheel and wait for a second hoping it will settle again. The water is coming from the waves which are hitting the front wall. Those waves will keep coming so I have a few seconds between each crashing wave.

Down again and the shifting has freed some of the bodies, just a few to grip and heave and finally his leg gets free as another crashing sensation hits the wall and sends a vibration through the water. Within a second, we feel the fresh surge and get thrown about, colliding with each other, with vehicles and dead bodies pounding us from all sides.

Scrabbling in panic, we fumble and pull ourselves along underneath the vehicles trying to find a gap but the constant wave surges have pushed them all together.

Clarence grips my hand and guides me to a smooth metal surface, trying to show me something so I grope about until I find a familiar object. A car door handle. One of the vehicles must have rolled onto its side. Grasping the handle I wrench the door open, sensing more than feeling Clarence trying to do the same. Slowly it gets prised enough and the big man is pushing me inside the pitch darkness of the inside of a flooded car.

Seats, steering wheel, gear stick, I pull myself over them to reach the other door, working along the inside to find the handle. I find it and push, slowly creating a gap.

Then I’m being propelled through the gap by Clarence pushing me from behind. Up I go and I clear the door to flop down on the side. Reaching back in, I help pull Clarence free as he sucks in air with frantic gulps. We look about at the scene of devastation around us.

Aware that we could get sucked under by a wave again at any second, we get on top of the car and start scrabbling along. Slipping, sliding and doing everything we can to try and get to safety.

‘ROPE,’ We hear Dave’s voice above, turning to see many hands waving at us. Heading that way, we feel the vehicles moving beneath our weight, precarious and ready to tip, roll or slide away. Eventually, we find the thick rope hanging down.

‘GO,’ I scream at him.

‘YOU,’ he gasps, ‘GO FIRST.’

‘GO, JUST FUCKING GO…NOW!’ With that he grips and starts climbing. He is strong but he’s also very heavy and the exertion on his drained and oxygen depleted muscles must be terrible. Through will power alone he gets up that rope, with me right beneath his feet.

With both of us clinging on we feel it start to lift, we’re being hauled in. Waves batter into and through the ruined gates, the alley fills as every object is lifted from the ground to be sent crashing into every other object and the sides. Knuckles get skinned as we are lifted up the side of the course wall, water cascading down, thunder booming everywhere, lightning forks that flash with long jagged sword like points.

Hands grip my arms and lift, more under my armpits and onto my belt. Clarence is already pulled over and I join him, wrenched the last few inches to get safely onto the top of the wall where I lie flat out panting and feeling the rain pelting at my face.

‘Said I’d bloody kiss you,’ I gasp at the big man lying next to me.

Sixty Two

Only there isn’t time to rest. There is never any time to fucking rest. Maybe two, three minutes we lie still, until the sense of danger and urgency once more has us up and moving.

Crawling we all start aiming for the top of the vehicle ramp, snaking along to get beneath the top of the wall. More survivors are left than I hoped for, many more. People are getting better at fighting back, even the meek, mild and downright terrified can pick something sharp up and use it to stab out.

Mind you, if it hadn’t been for the flatlands flooding we wouldn’t have stood a chance. Thinking of which, with the outer gate gone the inner gate can’t be far behind.

We crawl and snake past survivors hugging and holding each other. They’re grouped together in one long human chain of closeness. Men hold other men and everyone clinging on in abject terror at the noises and sensations battering our nerves.

Reaching the ramp, we crab down enough to huddle together and view the inside of the fort. The rear gate is busted in and rapidly flooding with each wave that crashes against the back wall. Already a deep layer of water covers the ground and it’s going to get worse as the night goes on.

The roof of the visitor centre has already been shorn off and lying off to one side smashed to pieces. None of the tents or other flimsy structures remain anywhere.

The inner gate holds. Darius, or whoever took care of it, made sure they used big, heavy vans and the digger has been put there too.

‘The children are in the locked rooms. We need to get them out and up here on the ramp in case the inner gate goes…then we find a way of blocking that rear gate up…’ I shout the instructions and watch as they get passed along the line. Men start breaking away to crawl down, glancing down at the rear wall and the debris floating about.

‘Kids first, then everything else after…Go.’ We jump up and start running down into the fort. Off the top wall, the wind is just slack enough not to rip us from our feet. We get to ground level and start wading through the water, tripping and falling as our feet get snagged on the tents and things floating about.

The children are screaming with terror at the prospect of drowning when we reach them, the water already seeping through to drip and cause minor menacing floods.

We work quickly, ushering and carrying the little ones to the ramp where they are gathered at the halfway point.

‘There’s water pouring in the front but it’s looks solid enough for now,’ a man shouts at me, having just run down to the front gates.

‘Okay, you know about these things yeah?’ I ask him, still having to shout to be heard over the noise.

He nods, ‘structural engineer, Kevin,’ he holds a hand out.

‘Kevin,’ I nod quickly, ‘Howie, guess what?’

‘What?’ He asks with concern.

‘You’re now in charge, tell us what you want and we’ll do it…Clarence, Maddox…this is Kevin, structural engineer…’

‘Kevin,’ Clarence nods, ‘you told him he’s in charge?’

‘Just done it.’

‘Where do want us?’ Clarence repeats.

‘Alex!’ Dave shouts at seeing Cookey and Blowers walking past.

‘Yes Dave?’

‘You might be immune but you’re still on brew duty, either get it done or find someone who can…’

‘Yes Dave.’

‘Right Kev,’ I grin at him, ‘tell us what you need?’ The poor man stares out at the many faces waiting for their instructions, utterly overwhelmed.

***

Kevin is a nervous man, and after the events of the evening no one can blame him. He quickly finds his feet as boss though, after he realises that the group in front of him only kill zombies and bad people.

Work groups are organised. Materials from the visitor centre roof are stripped down and used under Kevin’s supervision to build a make-shift dam to block the gate at the rear.

Constant checks are done at the front and orders are given to keep the area clear in case it buckles.

Cookey is soon relieved of his brew making responsibility as everyone starts working at the tasks they are capable off. More tea than we can handle is brewed up with a never ending flow coming out in any liquid holding receptacle found available.

Blowers leads a room clearance party, getting everything off the floor and onto the shelves, tables and chairs. Generators are lifted and put under constant use to boil water. Gas bottles are exhausted to heat and boil more water.

With the threat of the undead gone for now, the storm continues to rage. In fact it builds and becomes worse, with an increasing ferocity to the driving rain and the wind. The thunder rolls and booms, the lightning stays with us all through those dark hours but we work, oh we work.

The brews give us something to share, a few seconds of stolen rest as we gather to sip at the beverages. Jokes shared, banter gets thrown, weak at first as people struggle with the terrible events that befell us, but the camaraderie grows. The new arrivals to the fort soon understand that this is their place too; this is home for all of us. Characters start to step forward, leaders and doers and of course, the whiners and shirkers.

Paula works with us at first but is soon claimed by Lenski to help with the overall planning and organisation, a role she seems perfect for.

The hours of darkness pass by. The storm rages but within these walls a sense of safety starts to build. That we’ve survived the very worst that can be thrown at us.

As the first grey streaks enter the torn sky so the storm appears to move on. Not abating or weakening but simply going somewhere else for now.  A vast monster that I am sure will sweep across many lands, I can only hope it aids others as it has done with us tonight.

Frequently we speak of Nick, of where he is, if Roy and Lilly made it to them. As the flooding eases so we start thinking of moving out. As tired as we all are, we cannot rest until we know Nick is safe.

All of our vehicles are ruined, and the Saxon was taken by Roy, but we’ll swim or wade if we need to. Gathering in the offices, we leave Kevin the unenviable task of working out if it’s safe to open the front gates so we can get out, and if not, then to find a way out.

‘Everyone okay?’ I walk in last from speaking with Kevin to find everyone gathered, the exhaustion evident on their faces, bodies smeared with grime and soaked to the skin.

Nods returned and I notice Paula, Maddox, Lenski, Darius and Sierra are all seated amongst my team, not separate and on their own, but together. Unity.

‘So,’ I grab a mug of something black and hot and remain standing. ‘Cookey then,’ I grin, the first chance we’ve had to talk properly.

‘Yes!’ Cookey grins, ‘feels like winning the lottery.’

‘You just liked having your arse groped by Mr Howie,’ Blowers says.

‘I did,’ Cookey nods, ‘and it was very nice, thank you Mr Howie.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘So we all immune then?’ Cookey asks with that expectant gaze that assumes I know the answer to every possible question.

‘All immune?’ Lenski asks, reminding me we haven’t had time to explain the events of the last day or so.

Its run through quickly, the briefest facts outlined so everyone understands everything. No secrets now, nothing held back. Lani, me and now Cookey, and Meredith of course.

There’s a long silence after I tail off, everyone deep in thought. Why us? Why us three? Or is it just us three?

‘Nick?’ Cookey asks, breaking the silence

‘Kevin is seeing how we can get out, you all happy to go once we find a way?’

‘Of course,’ Blowers nods.

‘No doubt boss,’ Cookey says in a rare serious voice.

‘I’m in,’ Paula adds, ‘er…if that’s okay that is.’ She suddenly looks awkward, like she invited herself to a party.

‘Ah, you love us Paula!’ Cookey quips.

‘Definitely, we’d love to have you with us,’ I add once the laughter dies down.

‘Not just for this either,’ Lani is quick to say, ‘but all the time, god knows I need another woman with this lot.’

‘I’d like that,’ Paula smiles, ‘thank you.’

‘So what this mean?’ Lenski asks, ‘you immune and Lani and now Cookey, I don’t understand this.’

‘Neither do we,’ Clarence rumbles.

‘We still don’t know anything,’ I shrug, ‘we’re still in the same situation we were before, without doctors, without scientists, without tests…’

‘We’ll get there,’ Maddox cuts in, ‘the fort will get cleared up, you’ll find Nick and after that…plenty of time,’ he says with confidence.

‘Until that lot come again,’ Blowers says, ‘which will be in about half an hour I reckon.’

‘Not yet,’ Dave says flatly, ‘they’ll need time to re-group.’

‘Guys?’ Kevin bursts in, ‘you better see this.’ The urgent tone in his voice has us all scrambling to our feet. Weapons grabbed and we start jogging, the tiredness gone in an instant.

Outside the wind has gone completely, the rain has stopped and it actually looks like the sun will be coming through again.

‘Jesus mate,’ I whistle. The inner gates stand open, with a large pool of water sitting on the surface and the vehicles all moved back.

‘The walkway between the walls is still deep but it’ll drain,’ he calls out. Running together we reach the front of the fort and push through the gap between the gates.

‘Fucking hell,’ Cookey is the first to say something as we stand in silence, staring at the sea in front of us.

There’s a small strip of land in front of the main gates but that’s it, the rest is water stretching away to the estate in the distance. Unbroken sea from left to right, the flatlands gone, taken away.

With the storm gone now, the sea is flat and calm, just a gentle sway of the waves as they roll by.

‘Will it stay like that?’ I ask Kevin.

‘I’ve been out a few metres and it’s deep, there might be some shallower points but…time will tell. It’ll either stay as it is, or it will drain anyway to be like it was before. I just don’t know.’

‘Be better if it doesn't,’ Maddox says quietly, ‘this is perfect.’

‘It is,’ I nod in agreement, ‘completely cut off…like an Island.’ I turn back to look up at the solid walls of the fort.

‘No bodies,’ Lani remarks nodding at the sea.

‘They’ll be well gone,’ Clarence replies, ‘they’ll be popping up on beaches all over the place.’

‘Still loads in the walkway between the walls,’ Kevin explains.

‘We’ll get that cleared,’ Maddox says, ‘nothing that can’t be fixed.’

‘We’ve got incoming,’ Dave says in his flat tone.

‘Where?’ I ask scanning the view ahead but seeing nothing.

‘Over there, boats…several of them,’ he points away to the left at the sweeping bay. Straining my eyes, I can’t see anything.

‘You sure?’ I ask, which is pointless as Dave doesn't even speak unless he’s sure.

‘Yes Mr Howie.’

‘See ‘em!’ Lani calls out.

‘Fuck me, I need glasses,’ I rub my eyes and try again, somewhat re-assured to see Clarence and the lads doing the same thing.

‘Do zombies use boats?’ Cookey asks.

‘How the hell would we know that?’ Blowers asks.

‘Just asking,’ Cookey shrugs, ‘didn’t Marcy use boats to get over from the…’

‘Who?’ Lani asks with a very barbed tone followed by a few coughs and shuffling feet.

‘Yeah so, a beautiful morning then,’ I say lightly.

‘Yes lovely,’ Lani adds in the same light tone.

‘Sorry Lani,’ Cookey says quietly.

‘Don’t worry…’

‘You’re not holding a meat cleaver behind my head are you?’

‘That again?’ Lani sighs, ‘really?’

‘Yep, got them now,’ I say as the small black dots come into view.

It takes ages for the small line of boats to get into better view. Low powered engines putter through the gentle waves, the sounds of them reaching us well before we get any view of the occupants.

Dave walks forward a few steps, shielding his eyes to stare at the boats. Someone stands in the lead boat, arms held high waving back and forth.

‘Nick,’ Dave announces.

‘WHAT? Really?’ I go forward to the edge of the water, we all do. It’s almost too much to hope. We crowd round until our feet are wading into the shallows.

‘NICK!’ Dave bellows. We start waving, arms held high as he stands at the front waving back. Then there he is, the boats close enough for him to be seen clearly. Three small boats, each filled with children. Nick in the first with Lilly, Roy in the last one and another man in the middle one.

‘I DIDN’T BREAK IT,’ Nick shouts pointing at where the flatlands were.

‘BET YOU DID,’ Cookey bellows back.

We start wading out, surprised at how warm the water is. Nick brings the boats in close enough for us to grab and pull in. Everyone helps to pull until the first one grounds out gently.

Jumping down, I see he looks a bit battered and bruised but otherwise good, that brilliant smile of his plastered to his face.

‘Mate!’ I grab him for a hug, ‘really missed you Nick. Thank god you’re okay.’

‘You too boss,’ he smiles sheepishly, ‘is everyone okay?’

‘Fine mate, loads to tell you but we’ll do that later. Are you okay? Any injuries? Are you hurt?’

‘Fine Mr Howie, really…’ He gets mauled by everyone in turn. Blowers and Cookey are genuinely delighted and I’m not the only one with a tear in my eye at having him safely back with us.

Watching Lilly I can see she doesn't take her eyes off Nick the whole time, staring at him in awe as he gets greeted so very warmly by everyone. There’s long hugs and tears, Clarence giving him a bear grip and Lani kissing his cheek. Even Maddox shakes his hand and Paula gives him a hug. Having him back with us, seeing him here in the flesh safe and sound, I can’t express what it feels like.

Pure joy is the closest term I can think of. Absolute, pure happiness.

‘Right,’ I smile into the boats seeing the terrified children staring wide eyed. They look pale and sickly. ‘You are all safe here, no one will hurt you, I promise. Come on, let’s get you out.’

A human chain is formed as we unload the first boat, lifting the children out to be passed along until they’re safely on the beach. The second boat gets pulled up and the same process is repeated with the man handing the children over. He too looks battered and bruised.

‘Mr Howie, that’s Jacob…he was a guard at the house but he’s okay,’ Nick says. I stare up at the man. His eyes speak of sadness, of deep conflict, but I trust my team and if Nick says he’s okay then I won’t question it.

‘Jacob, I’m Howie, nice to meet you. Thank you for helping Nick.’

‘Mr Howie, my pleasure,’ he replies solemnly, ‘and it was Nick that helped me, he saved these kids…’

‘Nah,’ Nick gives his shy smile, ‘fucking team effort.’

‘Nick,’ Lilly calls out.

Wincing, Nick turns quickly, ‘sorry!’

‘You said to tell you,’ she points out.

‘Tell him what?’ Cookey asks with interest.

‘Don’t tell hi…’

‘When he swears,’ Lilly states, ‘he said he wants to stop.’

The damage is done. Nick winces again as both Cookey and Blowers look like all their birthdays came at once.

‘Did he now?’ Cookey calls out.

‘Nick? Not swearing…no chance…’ Blowers bursts out laughing.

‘Mr Howie, Roy was amazing, really amazing…I’ll tell you later but bloody hell,’ Nick speaks quickly and quietly.

‘You just swore,’ I smile quickly, ‘was he? He did alright then?’

‘More than alright,’ Nick nods.

‘Roy,’ I nod as the third boat gets pulled in, ‘thank you for getting Nick back to us.’

‘S’alright,’ he shrugs, ‘he did most of the work…Paula!’ He jumps out deftly, wading through the shallows as he heads straight to Paula.

She grins warmly at seeing him, walking forward as though to hug him. ‘Hey,’ she calls out, ‘are you okay?’

‘No,’ Roy whimpers, ‘I think I’ve got a lump.’

‘Right,’ she hardly breaks pace, sliding effortlessly into concern, ‘where?’

‘In here,’ Roy opens his mouth, ‘in my cheek, where the cheek meets the jaw…see it…is it huge?’

‘You mean here,’ she gently touches his jaw, smiling when he winces in pain.

‘Yeah, my god you can see it from the outside!’

‘It’s a bruise Roy, you’ve bruised your jaw…big battle last night? Remember that?’

‘Oh right,’ Roy probes his jaw line, fingering the tender spot, ‘right here, yeah?’

‘Yes Roy,’ Paula says gently, ‘bit swollen but definitely bruised.’

‘Oh thank god, I was so worried,’ Roy sags with relief.

‘Anytime,’ Paula smiles, but with a hint of sadness in her eyes.

‘Great,’ Roy nods still fingering his jaw, ‘a bruise…er…Paula?’

‘Yes Roy?’ She asks with patience.

‘I didn’t say goodbye yesterday, sorry about that. I’m not very good with people…er…you okay? Everything alright?’

Her face lights up, a visible change as she smiles at him, ‘yes,’ she replies, ‘fine and you?’

‘Yeah,’ he nods unsure of what to do, ‘fine, er…weird night but we got the kids out.’

‘Come here,’ Paula laughs grabbing him for a hug, ‘glad you’re back,’ she says softly.

‘Anyone got a smoke?’ Nick asks, ‘mine got fucking…shit! Sorry Lilly…mine got ruined.’

‘He’s been like that the entire way here,’ Jacob smiles fondly.

Heading inside, Lenski soon gets some of the mothers formed into a work party to take care of the boys.

‘LANI!’ Milly breaks free of a group as she hurtles towards us, ‘it was raining and there was thunder and lightning and everything!’ Milly shouts as she launches herself into Lani’s arms.

‘Yes! I saw it,’ Lani laughs.

‘Clarence, do you like rain?’ She asks immediately, holding her arms out for the big man to take her from Lani.

‘I do,’ he smiles as we all wait to see who will be next. Instead she peers at Lilly, then at Nick and finally down at the little boy being held by Lilly.

‘Who are you?’ Milly demands.

‘I’m Nick and this is…’

‘My name is Milly and this is Lani and this is Clarence and he is Cookey and he is Blowers and we have a dog called Meredith you can fuss her if you want and he is Dave and that is Mr Howie and he’s in charge of everyone, like a teacher…’

‘Wow,’ Nick shakes his head, staring in shock at the little girl proudly being held by a grinning Clarence.

‘Who are you?’ Milly turns to Lilly and the boy.

‘Hello Milly,’ Lilly says politely, ‘I’m Lilly and this is my brother Billy…’ I can almost hear the cogs turning, the delight spreading across her face as she throws her head back and laughs excitedly.

‘Milly and Lilly and Billy,’ Milly sings, ‘Milly and Lilly and Billy!’

‘Lions and tigers and bears…’ Cookey shouts.

‘OH MY!’ Milly responds clapping her hands in glee.

‘Lilly, do you like rain?’

And so it goes on. We have to wait until Milly has done the rounds, asking everyone if they like rain, then if they like thunder and finally if they like lightning. That’s before she tells everyone about the trip to the zoo.

Billy looks shocked to the core but the pressing questions posed by Milly leave no room for hesitancy, something about the way the little girl asks the questions means you just have to answer.

Wriggling to be put down instead of asking, Milly gets to the ground and runs to hug Meredith sitting patiently watching everyone. Throwing her arms round the huge dog’s neck, it’s hard to believe that dog was tearing throats out just a few hours ago. She looks blissfully happy now, being fussed and hugged by the girl.

‘This is Meredith,’ Milly says to Billy, ‘she likes boys and girls but she doesn't like the zombo’s’

‘Zombies,’ Lani corrects.

‘Or the zombies…she doesn't like them…you can stroke her if you want.’

***

We move back to the offices but this time with Nick, Roy and Lilly with us. Having got her exhausted brother to sleep, Lilly was finally convinced that he’ll be safe and joined us to find out what happened.

Nick gives most of the account until he starts explaining what happened when he got to the house. At that point, Jacob comes in for a very hard time as we understand he knew what was going on within the house.

He handles it well and explains his reasons for doing so, drawing a picture from his pocket of a woman and boy. He states clearly that the boys were never physically hurt, but there is pain in his eyes when he says it. He breaks down, sobbing hard as he re-lives what he had to see and hear, the killings given out by the Doc and Larson, the perversion, and the overwhelming desire to get the cure and try and find his family.

He makes it clear he doesn't want anything from us, that getting out with Nick was all he wanted, and his intention is to leave and find his family.

After that, Nick explains the rest with some help from Lilly, Jacob and the odd bit from Roy, all the way through to the house clearance at the end and getting back to the estate and seeing the flatlands flooded.

In turn, we explain our events of the day, seeing Milly and going off for miles chasing her. Nick smiles with genuine humour at hearing how we all tried catching her, and failed dismally.

All of them listen enraptured as we all go through the night’s events, the storm, the flooding and the undead charge over the walls.

Nick grins like a maniac when we explain what happened to Cookey.

We drink coffee, eat food brought to us and talk, we talk about everything since we last saw each other.

We talk until we can’t stop yawning and Clarence starts dozing off. Meredith is already flat out on her side, snoring peacefully.

‘Our rooms?’ Nick asks, ‘they flooded?’

‘Only the main room got wet,’ Blowers replies, ‘the others were alright. With the doors open it’ll dry out quick.’

‘Good because I am fucked,’ Nick yawns.

‘Nicholas,’ Cookey warns.

‘Don’t swear Nicholas,’ Blowers adds.

‘Sorry about this Lilly,’ Nick says quickly, ‘but you two can fuck right off.’

‘Er, right well I better leave you to your er…meeting. Thank you for everything you did Nick and thank you to all of you and Roy…’ Lilly starts standing up speaking very politely.

‘Get off!’ Cookey bursts out laughing, ‘stay with us for a bit, you don’t have to go anywhere.’

‘Honestly, sit down,’ Lani urges, ‘we’ll find you some rooms in a minute.’

‘She can stay with us,’ Nick stretches then realises what he just said, going bright red in the face as he stares wide eyed at Lilly, ‘shit I didn’t mean like…fuck it…I meant…’

‘Ah, go on Nick….’ Cookey laughs.

‘Piss off I just meant…fuck it…you know what I meant.’

‘Not swearing going well then mate?’ Blowers asks.

‘I know what you meant, and thank you, that’s a very kind offer,’ Lilly says sweetly, ‘but I should stay with Billy.’

‘We’re going to have to find a bigger space,’ I say, ‘we need more rooms now…That’s if Paula and Roy are staying?’ I look over at them, ‘we’d like you to stay, genuinely.’

‘We take your room yes?’ Lenski says, ‘Maddox and me, Darius and Sierra, we have those rooms. The armoury it have some more rooms with the big space so we move the weapons to the engineer rooms and you have the armoury rooms yes? I do this already,’ she adds with a grin.

‘Lenski!’ Maddox exclaims.

‘What! I do these things, they need to be done yes? The guns I get Jagger and Mo Mo to move with the crews, your stuff I move and our stuff I move, you have the bigger space now with the bigger rooms, you have more people so… the engineer rooms they have the big lock so it better for the guns…’

‘That,’ I say, ‘is wonderful, thank you very much Lenski.’

‘Is no bother, you sleep now yes? I work to do.’

‘You need to sleep too,’ Maddox says with a frown.

‘I sleep soon,’ she shrugs, ‘we need to get the boats to the estate yes? How the people going to get here without the boats? We make the ferry I think and we use the radio’s to talk…’

‘Whoa,’ Maddox shakes his head, ‘later yeah? Please…later…’

‘Okay,’ Lenski concedes, ‘we talk this later. You have the rooms now so Paula and Roy, are you staying yes? I need to know this, I have the rooms made for you.’

‘Er,’ Paula glances at Roy, ‘I think so, I want to stay…Roy? You staying for a bit?’

‘Yes,’ Roy announce.

‘Great!’ Paula adds to Roy’s rather short answer, ‘we’d love to stay.’

‘I take you now yes? I show you the room?’

‘Now? Room? One room?’ Paula asks.

‘You have the two rooms,’ Lenski replies and I swear I see a very masked look of disappointment flash across both their faces, ‘one is for the day and one bedroom but they make the two bedrooms. This is decision for you, come now, I show you yes?’

‘Kit, weapons and then sleep,’ Dave announces as Lenski starts to lead Roy and Paula out. Groans escape from the lads with coy smiles as Dave gives them one of his glares.

Drifting off, we start heading out of the offices and into the fort. Some activity is taking place but mostly people are dropping wherever they can find a dry spot. With the sun up the weather is fine and warm, not hot like before. Amazingly the sky is clear and a gorgeous blue colour, with no sign of the ferocious storm from the night before.

‘Where you going Nick?’ Cookey calls out at seeing Nick walking off with Lilly.

‘Leave him alone,’ Lani cuts in quick, pulling Cookey round.

‘Nicely done,’ I comment as we enter our new, bigger rooms. A table and chairs have been put in the main room, and checking the side rooms we see bedding has been brought down.

‘Lenski gets things done,’ Blowers mutters.

‘She bloody does mate,’ I reply.

‘Mr Howie and I are having this room,’ Lani announces, selecting the furthest room along.

‘Lani, do you call Mr Howie, Mr Howie when you’re alone?’ Cookey asks.

‘I do, he insists on it,’ Lani replies seriously, ‘very strict is our Mr Howie.’

‘We got our own gas stove for brewing up,’ Cookey nods at the burners on the shelves at the end.

‘Twat, those were in our rooms before,’ Blowers sighs.

‘Were they? Oh yeah…’

‘You should know, you used them enough,’ Blowers says.

‘Hello sunshine!’ Cookey laughs as Nick walks in.

‘You can fuck off,’ Nick grins easily.

‘Did you walk her home safely?’ Blowers asks.

‘Yes I did,’ Nick sticks one finger up.

‘Tell you what mate,’ Cookey says seriously, ‘she’s a stunner for a fifteen year old.’

‘Yeah, fifteen, nice one,’ Nick shakes his head, ‘am I sharing with someone?’ He asks with a nod towards the rooms.

‘She is mate, fifteen,’ Blowers says.

‘Fuck off!’ Nick laughs, ‘fifteen…yeah right!’

‘She is,’ Cookey says, ‘really Nick, she’s fifteen.’

‘Piss off, yeah right like I would be kissing a fifteen year old girl…’

‘You kissed her?’ Blowers asks in shock.

‘Well, yeah but I didn’t mean it like I was bragging…like not like that…she’s really nice…’

‘We know you’re not like that Nick,’ Lani says, ‘but she is fifteen.’

‘Eh?’ Nick looks over at me for confirmation, the blood draining from his face when I nod, ‘fifteen? She’s fucking fifteen?’

‘Didn’t she tell you?’ I ask gently.

‘No boss, she bloody didn’t…she’s really fifteen? Fucking hell! I thought she was like eighteen or nineteen.’

‘She looks it,’ I reply, ‘easy mistake but yeah, fifteen mate.’

‘Oh fuck…I kissed her,’ Nick slumps into one of the chairs, ‘she was offering herself and everything…’

‘Yeah we heard,’ I move over to sit down as Clarence glares at the two lads daring them to make any quips now.

‘Shit…I kissed a fifteen year old girl…fuck…what if I had…’

‘But you didn’t,’ Clarence says gently. Sitting down he lifts his feet to rest on the table, ‘and you only kissed her Nick.’

‘Nick, it’s okay,’ Lani says, ‘you’re only what? Five or six years older? It doesn't matter, she told us she offered herself to you.’

‘And that,’ I stare at Cookey, ‘doesn't get repeated outside these rooms.’

‘No course not,’ Cookey nods seriously, ‘Nick, you alright mate? You want a brew mate? Don’t worry Nick, she looks well older than fifteen and a kiss don’t mean anything.’

‘I killed real people tonight,’ he suddenly stares up at me, ‘I beat men to death and shot some more, not the fucking zombies but real people…’

‘I know mate,’ I nod gently, ‘you did what had to be done.’

‘And you did it well,’ Dave cuts in, ‘very well Nick. If it wasn’t for you it would have been much worse.’

‘Nick, don’t take it to heart son,’ Clarence leans forward, ‘we’ve had to kill before, the refinery…we took lives there…’

‘I know,’ Nick nods, ‘but…I don’t know…I was on my own making all the decisions and I had to do it…’

‘Nick, there are twenty or so children in our fort that don’t have to be abused anymore because of the actions you took. You did that Nick, not me or Dave or Clarence. You did it because it was the right thing to do.’

‘Our way,’ Nick says softly.

‘That’s right,’ Clarence says, ‘that’s our way, the way we do things…we do them because right now, no one else will…’

‘And what’s more,’ I add, ‘we’re all here because we do those things. I don’t know what all this means but three of us are immune, maybe all of us. Something tells me this isn’t over by a long shot yet.’

‘It isn’t,’ Dave adds his voice.

‘So that means we’ve got to do what it takes to get through this. We’re the good guys now…we’re the ones that people will turn too. Word is spreading fast about who we are, everyone who turns up here now seems to have heard of us.’

‘They asked about us at the house,’ Nick nods, ‘I didn’t say anything.’

‘We’re famous,’ Cookey smiles, ‘and I’m immune so fuck you Blowers.’

‘Okay mate, too tired to respond,’ Blowers yawns.

‘Sleep,’ I announce, ‘we’ll talk more when we get up, you okay Nick?’

‘Yeah fine.’

‘Lenski’s put you in with us by the looks of it,’ Cookey says, ‘you alright with that mate?’

‘Not really, Blowers will try and touch my arse again.’

‘In your dreams,’ Blowers laughs.

The lads go off, after Lani gives Nick a quick hug and tells him he’s done nothing wrong. Clarence pats him on the shoulder before moving off to his room.

Lani and I finally get into ours and she quickly pushes the two mattresses together. Wasting no time she pulls her top off and starts unbuckling her trousers before sitting down to unlace her boots.

‘Your eyes are going to fall out in a minute Mr Howie,’ she says without glancing up.

‘Sorry,’ I smile and start undressing.

‘That’s okay, Howie,’ she adds with a grin.

‘You told Cookey you call me Mr Howie all the time.’

‘Do you want me too then?’ She asks softly, both her boots off and she tugs her trousers free of her ankles. The rain has done one more thing for us, it has left us clean after a long fight, probably giving us the best wash since this all happened.

‘Nah, it’s okay, unless you want to that is,’ I tug my boots off and pull the sodden socks off my feet.

‘I quite like calling you Mr Howie,’ she says, ‘and then just Howie when we’re alone…it sort of fits…does that make sense?’

‘Not really,’ I reply and get a wet sock thrown at my face.

‘Ooh, that looks sore.’ In her bra and panties she crawls over to look at my shoulder, ‘does it hurt?’

‘My whole body hurts,’ I groan, ‘head to fucking toe.’

‘Oh you poor thing,’ she says softly as I push my trousers down and kick my feet free.

‘I need lots of care,’ I groan, ‘special care and warm kisses.’

‘Warm kisses?’ She asks as I lay back. Staring up at her sitting next to me I reach out and find her hand, fingers entwining. ‘I think we can do more than warm kisses,’ she adds as she bends down towards me.