The Undead Day Twenty (22 page)

‘Heather got six kids safely through utter chaos. The people on that list should be here. Heather, if we give you the list can you find them and get them here?’

‘What?’ Reginald says, aghast.

‘What?’ Heather says, aghast.

‘Ooh,’ Paula says in admiration, turning the corners of her mouth down while looking at me. ‘Good idea that.’

‘Was wasn’t it.’

‘No,’ Reginald says.

‘No,’ Heather says.

‘Why not?’ I say to both of them.

‘We cannot allow a list of that importance to simply be taken away and…’ Reginald blusters.

‘Copy it. Charlie and the others will help,’ I say.

‘But. Mr Howie. That list is of supreme importance.’

‘Yes it is, mate. It is for the people on it too and Heather was right. We should be doing something except
we
can’t do it cos we’re busy killing ‘em. So Heather and Paco can do it. Right?’

‘But…’ Reggie says.

‘Heather’s already proven she can move about with relative ease,’ I look at her and see the cogs turning in her head. ‘Do it quietly. Sneak about, find who you can and get them here. If they don’t want to come then tell them what they are…and while you’re at it you can tell others about the fort too. Actually, fuck it. Reggie, get that list copied…focus on the people closest to here. Heather, to be honest I ain’t asking. You were right. We need to do more so step up and do it.’

‘Could split the list and give some to Maddox,’ Paula says quietly, dipping her head in towards my shoulder so her voice doesn’t carry. ‘He’s more than capable.’

‘He needs to stay with us,’ I reply.

Thirteen

He walks down the road to the beach. His head high. His emotions masked. Nerves and tension in the air. The people still shaken and scared from the attack. Everyone looking towards the last house as the traveller men use the plant machinery to stack the bodies further down the shore. More men work to pile wood into the mound of corpses ready to set it alight.

Maddox walks on. His rifle held in one hand. A pistol on his hip. His bag on his back. He scans round noticing how people avert their eyes, dropping heads or simply looking away. A few stare with barely concealed dislike. A few more with open hatred.

People need someone to blame for what happened. He carries that blame and knows he has fault within the mess but he still stares back with defiance and an almost open challenge in his eyes. They look away, but then he is armed with an assault rifle and pistol and his clothes are stained from the battle.

Thoughts whirl in his mind. He is immune. He is on the list. He has natural immunity to the infection. Darius is dead. Sierra is dead. Zayden, Liam and so many more. Those left are acting the same as the others and distancing themselves from him. They’ve sniffed the wind and know they are being scrutinised and watched for every move. Now they work. Now they smile and wear clothes that aren’t just black.

A conflicting sense of emotions run through him. Emotions that previously he wouldn’t have allowed anywhere near the surface. He never allows feelings to overrule his intelligence. The Bossman taught him those valuable lessons. Now those emotions are coming up. Too many things have happened in too short a space of time.

Was it a mistake to leave the compound? Was it a mistake to come here? He casts that thought aside. Life is life. It’s done and nothing will undo it. Besides, life at the compound would always have been finite.

He wants to get Lenski and leave. They could go somewhere else. Just the two of them. Howie was right in that Maddox’s bravery is beyond question. Maddox knows he can fight. He knows he can keep them both safe. He also knows this world just became very small and there is no place he can go that Dave will not find him. How would he even get out? The idea sounds simple. Get Lenski and leave but that means using a boat which means people will see. The fort is an island now. Even if he took a boat and went the other way out to sea they will still come after him.

Maddox aims for a boat filling with people to be carried to the fort. The animated conversation ends as he steps in. The talk of the fight finishes. The discussions, the opinions and the men passing judgement on what they
would have done
simply stops as he takes position on the prow of the small vessel.

As the boat moves out he suppresses the urge to tell them he was in that fight. He was right there. He was part of it. He helped defend the fort. He doesn’t say that. His pride refuses it. His ego denies it. Instead he stares ahead to the fort steadily coming closer. Small conversations start up again. He lifts an arm to wipe the sweat from his brow. The heat is incredible. He squints to stop the glare from the water hurting his eyes.

As the boat grinds gently on the beach so he jumps off and pauses at hearing someone mutter
scum
. Everyone holds still. He looks back at the faces and smiles politely before turning to trudge across the beach and through the open gates as the armed guards both make a point of looking away.

He goes through and blinks at the sight that Howie and the others saw yesterday and that dent of his pride comes again. The interior looks so different now. It’s chaotic but it’s not filled with corpses or burnt debris or kids with guns. He walks on towards the police offices and imagines what it must have been like for Lilly. A surge of anger at Sierra, Skyla and the crews for doing what they did. Grief too. Mourning and loss. He feels ashamed at losing control. He feels ashamed that a sixteen year old girl is doing what he failed to achieve. Too many feelings. Too many things happening in too short a space of time.

‘You back,’ Lenski looks up at the door as he steps inside. The air still smells of cleaning materials. Pine and lemon. Chunks in the wall from the grenade detonations.

‘We need to talk,’ he says to Lenski while looking round at people he does not know. Men and women who have come forward to help stare at him silently. The atmosphere changes. The conversations that were underway as he entered the room end.

He walks back out the room. Unable to think of how to respond or what to say. The conflicting emotions render him mute.

‘What wrong?’ Lenski asks, stepping out from the offices.

‘Not here,’ he says, looking at her. She is impossible to read. Her features naturally mask whatever thoughts are in her mind.

‘We go,’ she goes to walk past him. He falls in at her side, glancing across and noticing she looks different. Colour in her cheeks. Her skin has taken the sun. He looks down with surprise at her legs and only then realises she is wearing cut off jean shorts and open toed sandals. A simple vest top completes her outfit but the change is noticeable and for the first time in his life he feels a prickle of worry and insecurity. She is a beautiful woman. She smells nice too. Is that from shampoo or perfume? He wants to ask but stays quiet.

She glances across when he looks forward. His clothes are blood stained. His boots are dirty. His skin shines from sweat. That utter supreme aura of confidence has slipped too. She also stays quiet. Neither of them are people who discuss things in public.

She shoulders the door open to an empty room and waits for him to pass inside before closing the door. A grime-encrusted window lets enough light in. She stays quiet, watching him closely. He stops in the middle of the small room and turns back to face her. An urge inside to cry that he suppresses and swallows with barely a flicker showing.

‘What happen?’ she asks, her tone as hard as ever. ‘They attack yes? They die now? You kill them? You work with Howie now yes? They accept you? Did this work? How many come here? What Howie say to you?’

A barrage of questions. He blinks and tries to find focus to reply and explain.

‘I’m going back out with them,’ he says instead.

‘What? Why do this? Howie ask you yes? He want you fight with them?’

‘Yeah,’ Maddox whispers.

‘He see you good at the fight. He see this yes?’

‘Yeah.’

‘This good yes? Howie see you good man. He see you no do the bad things.’

Maddox nods and looks down at the floor. He knows it’s pride preventing him being open but he cannot overcome the obstacle in his head and admit a weakness or that something is not working the way he wanted.

‘When go?’

‘One hour.’

She blanches and lifts her eyebrows. ‘One hour? Why?’

‘The er…’

‘You bring them yes? Howie say this before. They attack if Howie here. Howie not here they no attack. This reason yes?’

‘Yeah.’

‘When come back?’

‘I don’t know, Lenski.’

She blanches again and stares hard at him. He never uses her name. He never says her name in conversation like that. ‘What wrong?’

‘S’nuffin…’ he clears his throat, instantly ashamed at the street slang in his voice. ‘I mean nothing…’

She frowns, narrows her eyes and cocks her head over. ‘One hour yes?’

‘Yeah,’ he says, still looking at the ground.

‘Take clothes off.’

‘What?’ he looks up quickly.

She nods at him and steps forward while pulling her top over her head. ‘We sex yes? One hour…your clothes have the blood. I get clean clothes after. We sex now…’ She wedges her top over the window, making an improvised curtain to prevent any idle eyes glancing in. Maddox looks at her. The rifle still in his hand. The bag still on his back. The sweat still shining on his face. She turns and smiles a warm grin that chases the iciness from her features. He tries to smile back but it’s slow, weak, wan and full of pain, hurt and pride all at the same time.

She takes the rifle from him. He slides the bag off. She takes that too. He pulls his top off.

‘You wash yes?’

‘Yeah.’

‘With anti-bac yes?’

‘All over,’ he says.

‘This good,’ she says, undoing the button on her jeans shorts that she tugs down. ‘You fight them?’

‘Yeah,’ he says, working at his belt then remembering his boots are still done up. He drops down to work the laces.

‘What like?’ she asks, toeing her sandals off.

He shrugs, ‘like fighting…hot…’

‘You kill them? I mean you?
You
kill them?’

‘Yeah.’

‘The blood. It go on clothes…it go in mouth?’

He stands up from pulling his boots off and drops his trousers that fall quickly from the weight of the pistol. ‘I’m immune.’

Lenski pulls her head back in a very slight show of surprise, ‘like Howie yes?’

He shrugs and pulls his boxers down, still unable to summon the words to explain. ‘Yeah…like Howie…’

They stand naked in front of each other in an empty room in the wall of the fort. Too many emotions. Too many feelings. Too many things happening in too short a space of time. At that second, he wants only to hold her. To feel someone close. He has to go back out with Howie and be with more people that hate him. Right now, he wants tenderness and compassion. He wants love and understanding.

‘We sex now,’ she says.

He shrugs, ‘yeah.’

They kiss. The kissing invokes the natural reactions within him but the floor is dirty and there is no bed or chair. Instead, she turns round and places her hands on the wall. The act between them becomes almost sterile. An act for the sake of it. Sex for no other reason than he is going away to fight so they
should
have sex. He doesn’t want it. She’s not that bothered. They do it anyway because neither can communicate the feelings inside to tell the other. Too many things have happened. Too many emotions and feelings. She breathes harder. He does too. She moves into him. He moves into her. Thoughts whirl in his mind that threaten to overcome any shred of lust and the folly of man once again shows. He becomes more afraid of wilting, of losing his erection and not finishing than he does about expressing the true worry in his mind. She senses it and turns to look over her shoulder. That look makes him more afraid so he tries harder. She frowns. He sees that frown and the sweat runs down his face.

He finishes quickly and for the most fleeting of seconds the endorphins take away everything else. He bends forward, draping over her back to kiss her warm skin. Barely a few seconds pass and she moves to ease the cramp in her legs. He stands back. She turns and smiles, her face flushed and sweaty. She kisses him. He takes the kiss. The post-coital chemicals fade and again he wants to hold her, to just hold her and be close. She pulls away and starts to dress.

‘I need toilet now.’

‘Yeah,’ he says, bending to pick his boxers up.

‘Is good yes?’ she asks him, smiling.

‘Good,’ he says, smiling back.

She dresses quickly and moves to the door. ‘I get new clothes for you.’

‘Thanks.’

She pulls her top from the window, puts it on and moves to the door without another word spoken. In the space of a few minutes it feels as though he just lost her. They just had sex but it was cold and empty. It was the physical act and nothing more. She goes out and walks past the window. She doesn’t look in and smile but walks on and never before has he felt so crushed and alone.