The Undead Day Twenty (24 page)

‘Stay alive,’ Howie says quietly. ‘Kill quickly…don’t hesitate and trust your instincts.’

‘I will,’ she says. She wanted to say
you too
but saying such a thing to Howie doesn’t feel right.

The rest take their turns. Apart from Maddox and Dave. Dave nods and Maddox tactfully moves away and offers a curt smile and head dip instead.

The goodbyes are said. The vehicles await. They move off to load up. Nick and Lilly share a few last stolen words. Three words each. Short but enough and said with meaning and heart.

Heather dumps her bags in the back of the Toyota and climbs into the driver’s seat. Paco moves to the passenger side. Roy goes for his van. Reginald takes his seat in the back. Paula moves to sit next to Roy. Everyone else clambers into the Saxon. Doors close. Engines start.

The Saxon pulls away. Clarence in the front waving as they go. The rear doors open. The lads leaning out to wave, shout and grin in such a way it makes those left smile and shout back while waving. Roy’s van pulls behind the Saxon. Jess shifts inside the horsebox, creaking the axles.

The Toyota brings up the rear. Paco staring only at Heather who stares only at the road ahead.

‘Good people so they are, Father,’ the man who formerly held the Stengun breaks the silence.

‘That they are,’ Kyle replies, his accent once more coming back as he straightens up, smiles at Pea and winks at Joan.

Fifteen

Eleven people. One dog. Ammunition crates. Bags. Cases of water and Lucozade. Assault rifles. Axes. Knees to knees. Shoulders to shoulders. The air is hot, close and silent. Meredith lies by the open back doors panting heavily. Mo’s and Dave’s legs either side of her.

‘And the living army moves out,’ Cookey mutters looking round. Blowers nods. Blinky lifts her eyebrows. Nick shifts position. Maddox stares down at the ground. Cookey sighs and looks towards the front. ‘Where we going, Mr Howie?’

‘Waiting for Reggie to tell us,’ Howie calls back.

‘Oh,’ Cookey says, settling back and staring at Blowers. ‘Bit sweaty there mate.’

‘Yep,’ Blowers says, wiping his head with the back of his arm.

Cookey thinks. He ponders. He frowns and shows a pensive outlook at the thoughts in his mind. Charlie starts smiling. Blowers tuts with a grin.

‘What?’ Nick asks, leaning past Blowers.

‘What?’ Cookey asks innocently.

‘Twat,’ Nick says, sitting back.

Cookey nods and sighs heavily. ‘At first I was afraid,’ he tells everyone.

‘Eh?’ Marcy asks, looking up.

Maddox stares at the floor.

‘I was petrified,’ Cookey says, nodding seriously at Charlie.

‘What the fuck?’ Blowers asks.

‘You alright mate?’ Nick asks.

Cookey smiles and sighs again. He starts humming. A tuneless noise that slowly gets louder. Blowers frowns. Nick looks round at everyone else. Mo and Dave stare out the back doors.

‘You did me wrong, Blowers,’ Cookey says, breaking from his humming to look at his mate.

‘What?’ Blowers asks.

‘Just saying,’ Cookey says mildly.

‘Saying what?’

‘That I grew strong,’ Cookey says.

‘What?’ Blowers asks, clearly confused.

‘I spent so many nights,’ Cookey says.

‘Mate, you alright?’ Blowers asks.

‘Nights?’ Nick asks.

Cookey shrugs, wipes the end of his nose and looks towards the back doors with another heavy sigh as he starts humming again. The humming gets louder. Tuneless as first but changing to something that hints at recognition. Blinky and Nick exchange looks. Mo turns to look down to Cookey. Maddox stares at the floor.

Cookey stops humming, a sudden motion as he stares again at Blowers. ‘I couldn’t live without you by my side,’ he says with that serious dip of his head.

‘What?’ Blowers asks again but Cookey looks away and carries on the humming with a tune growing more melodic by the second. His foot starts tapping. His head moving side to side. Charlie covers her mouth. Maddox stares at the floor. Clarence turns to look down the Saxon with a puzzled look.

Cookey starts drumming his hands on his thighs. The humming grows louder. The foot tapping more a beat that holds the tune. Blowers glares. Nick leans forward to watch Cookey. Blinky stares at him with a look of confusion.

‘Just no need for it,’ Cookey says quickly, shooting Blowers another look.

‘What?!’ Blowers asks.

‘You think that’s alright yeah?’ Cookey asks.

‘What? What is?’ Blowers groans.

‘Well,’ Cookey tells him, tossing his head to look away dramatically. ‘I learnt to get along.’

The grin comes quickly to Blowers. The realisation showing in his eyes that crinkle with humour and delight. Cookey looks back and bursts out laughing at Blowers’ grin, knowing he gets it.

‘You deserved it,’ Blowers tells him.

‘Didn’t,’ Cookey says, tossing his head to look away again as Charlie laughs harder just at the sight of him.

‘Well guess what?’ Blowers asks darkly.

‘What?’ Cookey asks but starts humming quickly. Blowers joins in. Both of them holding the tune that slowly connects in the minds of the others. It goes on for a few seconds with both tapping feet and swaying heads before Cookey suddenly stops and looks at Blowers. Blowers stops and stares back.

‘Where were you?’ Cookey asks, breathless with worry.

‘You know where,’ Blowers says.

They hold, they pause, they wait and try not to smile at the sight of each other. A slight nod from Cookey.

‘And so you’re back…from outer space….I just walked in to find you here….’

They sing together. Swaying heads. Tapping feet. Hands drumming on thighs. Gloria Gaynor’s
I will survive
sung by two young men in the back of a packed armoured personnel carrier. Clarence bursts out laughing, braying like a donkey. Charlie is already off, her own smaller bray joining the noise.

Nick grins as Blowers nudges him in the ribs. A second later and he’s in with them. Singing along. Marcy laughs. Blinky nods her head in time to the tune. Mo chuckles at the sight then laughs without shame at the sight of the three swaying in time side to side. Maddox stares at the floor. Grim and depressed but the humour reaches him too. His mouth twitches. It’s impossible not to.

Marcy joins in. Her voice giving a lighter vocal to the male dominated chorus.

‘…Go on now go…walk out the door…’

Everyone knows the song. Even Mo knows the words.

‘…Did you think I’d crumble…’

It gets louder. Howie laughs in the front. Clarence beats a drum on his thighs. Marcy presses the talk switch on her radio to fill Roy’s van with the occupants of the Saxon blasting the song.

‘…Now I’m saving all my lovin’…’

They sing together. Spirits lift. Maddox smiles and shakes his head as he gets a dig in the side from Marcy to join in.

‘…Oh no not I…’

Paula sings to Roy who groans and shakes his head while Reggie tuts, huffs and tries to focus on the maps open on his desk as his hands start tapping and his foot lifts to drop in time to the tune.

The transmission reaches to Heather and Paco in the Toyota who stare at the radio in surprise at the voices singing in unison. That same transmission carries down to the last house on the bay too and it makes those who hear it stop to smile and look back at the road. Lilly laughs with delight at the noise as Sam and Pea crowd round her to listen. They activate their own radios to carry that transmission into their own network that gets blasted to the people in the fort who stop to listen.

In the Saxon they sing to the very end and suddenly the words die away and the singing ends. Cookey sighs. Blowers sighs. Cookey looks at Blowers. Blowers stares back.

‘At first I was afraid,’ Cookey tells him in a flat voice, speaking the first lines that carry through the radios to the fort. A second later the song is going again. Voices booming in an awful cacophony of noise but Heather sings to Paco and Paula sings to Roy. Pea and Sam sing to each other and the people in the fort burst to tune a split second after them. Men and women holding tools. The cooks at the fires. The twelve traveller men near Lilly. The children come out of the tents to smile in delight at the fort suddenly filling with noise. Old men and women, young men and women.

In the Saxon they hear the transmission from Lilly’s radio network and hear the others singing. The noise is awful. A static filled barrage of voices but it matters not what it sounds like for the feeling it gives is the thing at play.

The distance grows. The transmission to the fort and back interrupts, breaks then drops away as the signal fails to make contact. The singing dies down but the sullen mood infesting the Saxon is banished as conversations pick up and turn to the job at hand and the things they need on the supply run.

Blowers listens in. His mood lifted at the song and now turning his head left and right to catch the topics of discussion underway. Marcy leaning past Maddox to talk with Charlie before deciding it’ll be much easier if she was actually sitting next to Charlie. Maddox moves politely. His manner now different and subdued. The eye contact is less and his head doesn’t hold so high and that arrogance seems to have eased. Blowers watches him. Hating him. Detesting him completely and wishing the prick wasn’t here. His mere presence is an irritation but orders are orders and discipline is discipline. Mr Howie said to go easy and that was enough to stop the digs and jibes.

Blowers knows that Maddox must have had it hard when he was growing up but that mitigation holds no sway for Blowers. Maddox lifts his head to look round and in so doing, he catches Blowers eye. The two hold contact for seconds. Blowers barely hiding his contempt and that very reaction invokes the pride in Maddox who lifts his chin and refuses to show he is cowed.

A dig in Blowers leg. Cookey jabbing him, reminding him without the need for words to stop it. Blowers nods and looks down to the back. Maddox looks to the front and feels that strange sense of jealousy again. Not jealousy but something else. The way Blowers and Cookey are so close. The way Cookey was speaking the song lyrics and Blowers made the connection before anyone else. Kindred spirits who know what the other is thinking and feeling. Maddox has never had that. His best mate was Darius but in truth, they were never close.

On the streets he was a somebody. He was smart, tough and ruthless. He was a heavy for the Bossman. He was a runner. A messenger. An enforcer. A debt-collector. He was a businessman and a drug-dealer. He was many things to many people but he was never cowed or fearful of anyone. He refused the stereotype of being a young black male growing up on a hard estate. He knew the perceptions of others
.
Just another black kid selling drugs but to Maddox it was a way out. It was money to save and get somewhere other than where he was. He never used the drugs. He never drank booze or smoked cigarettes. He ate healthy. He exercised and was careful who his associations were. He had a plan.

Now he has no plan. Now there is no plan. He is a grunt with a rifle and a pistol and being sent to be cannon fodder. He isn’t a soldier. Soldiers don’t think for themselves. They follow blind orders. He is better than that. He is more than that. Except right now, he is nothing other than exactly that.

Irritation inside. Frustration grows. Loss and grief. Pain and anguish all denied a voice. It was okay for people like Blowers. They had families and structure. They had support and decent educations. He casts a look down to Mo and thinks back to how easily Mo took him out. The speed of him. The strength in his body too. The ease in which Mo held him down and the utter belief that Mo would not hesitate in pulling the trigger.

‘Mr Howie, it’s Reginald.’

The Saxon falls quiet as the voice comes through earpieces and echoes from the main-set at the front.

‘Yep, go ahead mate,’
Howie transmits.

Blowers holds a hand out, signalling the others to stay quiet. Maddox waits, focussing on the voice in his ear.

‘Indeed, you said you required a location in which to gather the necessary supplies. Equestrian was a priority. Is that correct?’

‘Charlie needs a new saddle if that’s what you just said.’

‘…Yes. Yes I did just say that. I have identified two locations which I believe, from this awful local guide-book literature…really, these are truly awful publications of very low quality. I mean to say, who exactly wants a ten percent discount on a full English at Bert’s café?’

‘I do,’ Nick says, quickly reaching for his radio,
‘Yep, I do.’

‘Reggie? Where are we going?’
Howie asks.

‘Ah yes, please do forgive me. We have two locations which I believe will serve our…’

‘Fuck me he does goes on,’ Marcy mutters.

‘…and Roy assures me both have adequately stocked sports shops in order to replenish arrows and associated archery equipment…’

‘Yep. Where we going?’
Howie asks again.

‘Now then. I am most interested to see if the other player has yet reached a level whereby it can predict our necessary re-supply and whether or not it will seek to mass in such locations. I believe one location will pose less of a risk at opposition but the commercial resources will be more limited as the town is smaller. The second has a greater risk but of course with greater risk comes greater reward and so the question is…’

‘Oh my fucking god,’ Marcy exclaims, jabbing at her radio trying to cut in.

‘…having already fought one skirmish today do you wish to take the lesser risk, although obviously my advice is guidance only and there may well be things I cannot predict…or of course we can go for the larger location but…’

‘Stop fucking talking…stop it…stop…fuck’s sake he just goes on…seriously, I’ve had days and days of his voice and….
Reggie! Fuck’s sake you talk so much…’

‘Marcy? Good Lord woman. I was merely outlining the information so a tactical and strategic decision can be made.’

‘Bigger one,’
Howie cuts in.

‘
Yes I rather predicted you would say that. In which case you will need to take the motorway. I will guide from there but please do understand I am not able, at this time, to predict what level, if any, of opposition. As I made clear, it depends on the intellectual evolution of the other player and if it has…’

‘
I’m going to shoot him,’ Marcy mutters. ‘With a gun…in the arse…then run him over…ooh,
Reggie, it’s Marcy, honey. Do they have a Boots in the bigger town?’