The Undead Day Twenty (9 page)

Blowers’ voice. He prickles from being told what to do and slashes into a neck, cutting deep into flesh that peels apart down to the artery that spurts hot blood into the air.

‘STRIKE AND MOVE…DON’T FUCKING STAND THERE…’

Nick now, shouldering one away to bring his axe down into the head. Maddox goes the other way, his eyes flicking to the potential targets in front of him. He goes for one as Meredith launches up to rip the thing from its feet. He locks on for the next that is taken down by Blinky cutting it in half. He snarls in frustration at not being given the chance to impress and show he can lead. He goes in with a knife that stabs and slashes wild and hard. He kicks, feints, dodges and shows the years of nasty fights born on the streets of social housing estates where you either lie in the gutter or stand up to be counted. He fights because he can. He learns and fights faster. Slashing throats and driving the point of his knife into eyes. He kicks legs out, making them tumble with dirty tricks learned hard and fast. He stabs back into groins and slices stomachs open for innards to fall out. He drives his thumb into another eye while stabbing repeatedly into the neck until he sees the spurt from the de-pressurised artery. He twists, moves, ducks and kills.

‘LINE…FORM ON ME…’

He glances up to see Blowers and Cookey side by side with their backs to the garden wall and rushes to join them. Nick after him. Blinky and Mo coming from the ranks of the horde to make the line.

‘FIRING LINE READY…’

‘
HOLD…’
Dave’s voice.

They fight on. Holding the line as the infected charge at them. Blowers senses the subtle change in them again. The greater control they have. The speed and reflexes showing in their movements. Something like intelligence in their dead eyes, dull and weak but there nonetheless.

‘WE HAVE THE DOOR…’

Dave’s voice again. Blowers flicks his eyes to see Charlie still within the ranks, spinning the great horse round as she lashes down with the axe now secure on her wrist. Ripples of motion as the horse’s rump slams the horde that stagger but rally and charge back.

‘CHARLIE OUT…’

‘COME ON,’ she screams again, geeing the horse to propel forward towards Roy as an arrow flies an inch past her head taking one of its feet behind her.

‘MAKE SPACE…’ A lunge from the line that goes forward on Blowers command. Maddox wasn’t ready. He didn’t know the command. He falters and follows a second behind them as they attack to drive the infected back. ‘BACK NOW….BAGS DOWN RIFLES UP…’

Back they go. At speed too.  Rushing back to the wall to drop hand weapons and bags at feet to pull rifles round. Again Maddox is a second behind them. Running to gain the wall to drop his knife and scrabble for this assault rifle while trying to wrench his bag from his back.

‘BLOWERS CLEAR…’

‘FIRE…’ Blowers gives his command. Five rifles fire a single round each in perfect unison while Maddox snarls and brings his rifle up with his bag still hanging off one arm. The rifles fire quickly. Single shots to burst firing. Paula and Marcy cover Reginald to bring him down, joining the firing line. Reginald stays low, running ducked to get behind Mo who shuffles forward a step to give the small man enough space.

The effect is outstanding. Bullets beats axes. Bullets beats knives. Bullets beats brains from heads that burst from skulls exploding with pink mists. Bodies are blown back. The horde is withered.

‘MAGAZINE,’ Blowers first, dropping to a crouch to grab one from his bag as the used one is ejected. As he rises so Cookey shouts the same and drops.

‘I’M OUT,’ Maddox shouts, dropping to tug his bag free from being tangled on his arm and rifle sling. He pulls at the flap, his hands working to grab a magazine that gets pushed in, bolt back, up he stands to aim and fire.

‘CEASEFIRE…’

Instant silence. Ears ringing from the retorts of the weapons. Rifles remain in shoulders, aiming into the downed horde.

‘Crawler,’ Blinky says, firing once to strike a head.

‘Shot mate,’ Nick mutters.

‘Fuck yourself,’ Blinky mutters as Nick chuckles.

Meredith runs through them, snapping jaws left and right to finish them off before seemingly remembering why they are here and running flat out for the door.

‘CLEAR OUTSIDE,’ Blowers shouts.

‘CLEAR INSIDE…COME IN,’ Clarence shouts back.

‘Fuck,’ Blinky coughs, bending double to spew vomit on the ground.

‘She alright?’ Maddox asks.

‘Fine,’ Blinky shouts, waving a hand in the air.

‘Injuries?’ Blowers asks, changing magazine. ‘We’ll go in…Blinky and Mo cover the rear when we enter. Reggie…’

‘Stay with Mohammed…yes yes, I most certainly will. May I say, Simon, that was very well done.’

‘Thanks, mate,’ Blowers says easily.

‘From the side was a very good tactic. Indeed yes, yes it worked most assuredly.’

‘He likes it from the side,’ Cookey says.

‘What?’ Nick asks.

‘Dunno, made it up,’ Cookey says, grinning as he swaps magazines.

‘Mo, good skills there, mate.’

‘Cheers, Blowers.’

‘Everyone ready? We’ll go in…COMING TO YOU…’

‘YEP,’ Clarence shouts back.

‘Magazine not
I’m out
, Maddox. Keep your bag straps and rifle sling clear of each other. Put the magazines at the top of bag so you can get them.’

Maddox doesn’t reply but walks with the line across the battleground towards the front door of the big old country house. Bodies everywhere. Blood everywhere.

‘Roy, Charlie…you cover outside.’

‘Will do,’ Charlie calls back.

‘Love you, Charlie.’

‘Love you too, Cookey.’

‘She loves me. She said it. We’re getting married and having babies.’

‘Are we?’

‘How the fuck did you hear that?’

‘Focus,’ Blowers says, smiling at the post-fight energy flowing between them all. ‘Hey, you got him?’ he asks, reaching the door to see Clarence holding sentry.

‘Nope, out the back apparently. Come through,’ Clarence says.

‘Nice work, Blowers.’

‘Thanks, Boss,’ Blowers gives his easy response, his rifle held ready but lowered a few inches. A large gloomy hallway with light pouring through the cracks of the boards on the windows outside. A wide wooden staircase on the right. Doors ahead and on the left.

‘They only came a few minutes ago. Straight after the big man and the woman…’

An old woman stood with her hand pressed to her chest looking very shaken speaks in a trembling voice to Howie and Dave. Blowers moves to the stairs, mounting the first few to gain a view of the top. Movement. People standing back. Whispered voices. He goes up quickly, holding the rifle with his right hand while his left waves for someone to follow him.

‘Behind you,’ Cookey whispers.

‘How many upstairs?’ Blowers calls out, ascending to see a small group of men and women cowering in a large doorway to one of the rooms.

‘Five,’ a man blurts the words out. ‘Who are you?’

‘From the fort,’ Blowers replies, sweeping his gaze over each in turn. ‘With Mr Howie…’

Blank expressions, the name doesn’t mean anything to them.

‘How long have you been here?’ Cookey asks, turning to see Maddox coming up behind him.

‘Since it started,’ the same man says, his eyes catching sight of Maddox coming into view. ‘Are you soldiers?’

‘We’re…’ Maddox starts to say.

‘We are,’ Blowers says, cutting in quickly. ‘The fort is twenty miles away. Why are you still here?’

‘Fort Spitbank?’ The man asks, showing confusion.

‘It’s down the road,’ Blowers says.

‘I know where it is,’ the man replies stiffly, ‘is it in use? Have the government taken it over? I said we should bloody check it,’ he mutters to the other people around him.

‘It’s a safe place. We advise you go straight there…if you are quick we can escort you.’

‘Have the government got it?’ The man asks again.

‘Has the army mobilised then?’ Another asks.

‘Is it ending?’ A woman asks, moving out a step from the group.

‘Blowers?’ Howie calls out.

‘Yep, up here,’ Blowers shouts down. ‘Got five survivors.’

‘Paco went straight through to the summer house out the back…’

‘Coming,’ Blowers shouts back. ‘Listen, get ready to go. You can’t stay here now…’

‘Why ever not? We’ve got food and…’

‘They know you’re here now. They’ll come back. Get ready to go…’ Blowers says.

‘Are you ordering us to leave?’

‘Nope, your choice. Do what you want,’ Blowers says, heading down the stairs after Cookey and Maddox.

‘Fifty two,’ Reginald says, walking into the hallway with a pensive look on his face.

‘Fifty two what?’ Howie asks.

‘Bodies,’ Reginald says, his face reflecting his deep thoughts.

‘Right, a big man went straight through carrying a woman in his arms…’ Howie tells everyone, glancing at the old woman.

‘The summer house,’ the old woman says. ‘He carried the woman to the summer house. Didn’t say a word. Covered in blood they are…we offered help of course but…well, he looked dangerous,’ she adds in a lower voice. ‘Big chap too, nearly as big as you,’ she adds, looking at Clarence.

Meredith scratches at a closed door, whining for someone to open it. She backs up, giving high pitched barks, expressing urgency.

‘Sounds like him…’ Howie says, looking round. ‘Blowers, Cookey, Nick, Clarence, Dave, Paula and Marcy with me. We’ll go down….everyone else stay here and get these people ready to go.’

‘Go?’ The old woman asks. ‘Go where?’

‘Reginald, you explain,’ Howie says, ‘we’re going before the dog busts through that door.’

Five

He stays at her side. His red eyes watching her breathe. He washed the blood from her face when she woke but more blood has come. He struggles to understand what to do but knows he will always stay with her.

For nine days she has been at his side. She cleaned him. Bandaged his wounds. Fed him. Gave him water and comfort and in turn he killed the infected to keep her safe. Now she is hurt and he doesn’t know what to do.

Paco Maguire was bitten by an infected eleven days after the outbreak started. Paco found courage after days spent hiding in fear and fought to protect her when the infected came to kill her. The dog was at his side when he went down. He died and came back in the true state of being. He came back changed. His cells forever different. His blood tainted. She bit him. The dog he protected knew he was no longer what he was, so she bit deep into his throat, with what at any other time, would be an attack to kill.

He was dead again. So they thought, but the infection that killed him the first time kept a flicker of life inside his body. That flicker generated a heartbeat that sustained and gave another. Throughout the night he remained with the fallen until he finally woke with his throat torn apart and his body rendered weak but in the true state of being. He was turned. He was one of them.

Then Heather found him, or rather, he found her. Something in him prevented him from taking her. She ran. He followed. She hid. He found her again. At first she used him as a shield but as the days went on she learnt to trust him and finally to give something more. The infection healed his body. The memory of a dog stopped him turning and the love of a woman made the confusion and rage go away.

Now, on the twentieth day since the outbreak started, he still does not have full cognitive function. Heather told him it would come. She helped him say words and held his hand and kissed his head. He liked that. He liked her touch and her soft voice. He grew strong again. Stronger than he was before, faster and harder than he was before but it was Heather that guided him and kept him clean. His mind wasn’t open enough for anything other than following Heather and killing the things that came close to her. It was Heather that kept the children safe and gave them to another family. When that family were attacked she went back and found the children again. She gave everything to keep them alive and get them to the fort. Heather hates people. She was terrified of being near anyone but Paco was different. Paco wasn’t a person. Not in that sense. He did not speak or judge her. He did not ask questions about her life that made her want to run away and cry.

Then, as they neared the coast where she believed the fort to be, the infected came. They came all night. Running to attack to take the children and kill Paco who was one of them before but now something else. They fought together. They kept the children alive until they were trapped by the hedge. Heather was bitten and beaten close to death but she didn’t die and she didn’t turn either.

The children escaped and when the last infected died so Paco carried her slumped form to the stable to rinse the blood from her body as she did for him. She came awake, just for a few seconds. He carried her again. He could hear them coming. More of them. More than he could fight. He found the house and went through the door, his mere presence, size and the fact he was torn to bits and covered in blood kept the people back.

He didn’t know what to do but did not want the people touching her. No one could touch her. No one
will
touch her. No one will come close. As long as he has life in his body he will not allow it. He saw the summerhouse with a flash of a memory of a barn and a time with Heather eating tinned food. He went for it. Gained it and lowered to hold her close. They will come. The infected will come. He cannot run now so he will fight instead.

Shouts in the air. Gunshots. The sound of fighting then silence. He doesn’t know what that means but it matters not. No one will touch her.

She can smell him. It’s him. The man-child that she kept safe until he found his courage. The smells hover over the ground like colours holding form and shape. Denser shades that tell her his feet landed here and here. She follows that trail to another set of doors and gives furious voice that she cannot get through. She launches up. Scrabbling at the place she knows will open it. The pack leader comes. The pack leader makes the door not be there. She runs out. The colours holding the scents of his life on the ground are strong and clear. She races flat and fast. He’s close. Him. It’s him but different. She can smell the things in his blood. She barks. She gives voice. She tells him she is coming.

He hears a bark. He turns, his face showing pure violence to defend Heather. He rises smoothly. The muscles in his arms bulging. His chest inflating as he draws air to fight and kill.

She barks again. Running over the grass that holds his scent so strong. She can see the building. He is in there. She knows it.

He goes to the door and pauses to look back with softened eyes at the woman he adores more than anything in the world. Sadness inside. His mind unable to form sentence to give coherence to his emotions. The bark again. He goes through the door, ducking his head to get through and watch the dog sprinting flat out towards him.

A pulse. A sensation. A feeling. A memory. A dog. A girl.

‘Dog…’ his broken voice says the word he now knows. ‘Gerl…’ the dog is a girl. He tried telling Heather that. ‘Dog…’

That pulse again. That sensation grows stronger. The memories surge in his mind and heart. She barks. She gives voice.

He goes forward with only instinct in his reactions. His heart hammering. A dog. The dog was a girl. He remembers a dog. That’s the only thing he could remember.

She charges in. He runs out. She barks. He runs faster. She barks again. He sprints as she leaps at him, taking him down from the massive weight slamming into his chest. A dog. He had a dog. The dog kept him alive when he was afraid. The dog saved him. This dog. This girl.

She whines with happiness bursting in her heart. It’s him. He was dead but now he is not. Now he is here. Him. She cannot lick him fast enough. She cannot show him her emotions. She cannot be close enough.

His arms come up. His face streaked with tears. A rough tongue on his face. He remembers her licking him before. He remembers those noises she makes. He remembers the feel of her, the size of her, the soft fur and the even softer brown eyes.

The long nose nuzzles his face, his jaw, his chin and hair. She flattens on him, pressing into his body, absorbing his smell. He is the link to her little one. He
was
a little one until he stopped being a pup and became strong. Now she cries and whimpers to lick and push.

He cries too. He cries with his heart surging and his arms wrapped round her. He weeps tears that she licks away.

It matters not to either why or how they are here. Only that they are. It matters not what caused this. Only that it is happening.

‘Paco?’

On his feet. His face morphing into violence to snarl and stand ready. People come. People with guns. People that run towards him. Towards Heather. His arms tense. His head lifts. He readies to fight. Meredith snakes round his legs, whining and jumping up.
Pack. Friends. Not enemy.

‘Slow down,’ Howie says, holding a hand out.

Blowers breathes hard. The sprint across the grass was longer than they all thought. Marcy bends forward, resting her hands on her knees while wishing she had put the bloody sports bra on. Meredith went off like a rocket and they all saw him come running from the summer house. For one awful second it looked like Meredith took him down. Then they saw his arms come up and her tail wagging faster than ever before while she licked his face and dropped to lie on him.

They come to a stop. All of them seeing Paco Maguire. The same man they fought next to for the safety of a dog that later proved she was tougher than nearly all of them. They saw him fall. They heard him shout the name Meredith which came to be hers. They saw him come back too and saw Meredith go for his throat. Those injuries are clear now. His throat is damaged but healed only in the way the infected do. The way Charlie is healing. The way Cookey’s back is healing. The way the hundreds of cuts, marks, bites and bruises on all of them heal. They also see the lack of recognition in his expression that now looks so different.

Blowers holds back a few steps from Howie. Lowering his rifle and checking Nick and Cookey do the same. Dave slings his to the back but rests a hand on the butt of his pistol. The boss is safe. Dave can draw and fire faster than Paco can move.

‘Paco…it’s us…’ Howie says softly. ‘Howie…do you remember?’

They can see his eyes. They can see the aggression pouring from him. The way he looks to each in turn as though assessing the threat and the way he rests those red bloodshot eyes on Clarence as though calculating the bigger man’s size and weight. He stands his ground though, and without a shred of fear either.

‘Clarence…’ Howie says, pointing at Clarence. ‘Dave…Blowers…’

‘Paco,’ Blowers says, inclining his head.

‘Cookey…Nick…’

‘Hey.’

‘Paco.’

‘That’s Paula…that’s Marcy…’

‘Hey,’ Paula says, smiling softly. ‘You’re hurt,’ she adds, nodding at him.
‘Roy, come down…bring your med bag.’

‘On way.’

‘We were with you,’ Howie says. ‘With Meredith…’

Paco looks at Howie. Recognising the names they say. They are familiar…something about them. Heather would know if they can be trusted but Heather is hurt so he stands ready to fight.

‘You saved Subi…’

His eyes flick to the woman.

‘And Rajesh? Amna? You saved them with Heather…’

His head inclines a touch. His body stiffening in response to hearing her name.

He goes to speak, his mouth forming sounds, ‘Ether…’ he growls, broken and hoarse.

‘Heather,’ Paula says, smiling gently. ‘Where is Heather?’

He stiffens again. His body tensing. Suspicion in his eyes.

‘Is she hurt? Paco? Is Heather hurt? Subi told us to find you….Subi is safe…’

‘Zuuubi…’

‘Yes, yes Subi is safe. She is safe, Paco. Rajesh and the children are safe. Where is Heather?’

‘Ether…’

‘Where is she, Paco?’

He stays where he is. Meredith whines round his legs. He looks down at her, his expression softening for a fraction of a second. ‘Dog…gerl…’

‘Meredith,’ Paula says. ‘The dog…she was with you…’

‘Gerl…’

‘She is a girl. Meredith is a girl…Nick, call Meredith, show him she accepts us.’

‘She isn’t my dog…Meredith! Here girl…come here…hey who’s a good girl….yes you are…’ He drops to rub her head and ears. Smiling as she snakes round his body pushing against him.

Paco watches intently. Seeing the man smile and fuss the dog. The woman moves. He flicks his eyes to stare at her.

‘Heather? Where is Heather? Is she hurt? Is she in there?’ Paula points to the summer house. ‘I need to see, Paco…’

‘Paula…’ Howie says quietly when she moves a step towards him.

‘Show me,’ Paula says, ‘Paco, show me Heather…show me…’ She goes forward again. Paco stiffens, his head lifting. ‘I will help. Heather is hurt. Show me,’ Paula says. ‘Meredith…here girl, good girl…see? Meredith is one of us. Where is Heather?’

‘Ether…’ Paco says, twitching his head towards the summer house.

‘Show me,’ Paula takes another step then another until she is walking steadily towards Paco who looks over at Dave moving out to keep a clear line of sight. ‘Show me Heather,’ Paula says. She goes close to him, standing only a foot in front. ‘Show me…Heather…Show me…’

It’s Meredith that makes it okay. She runs to the summer house. Smelling the blood inside. Smelling the hurt woman. Paco turns sharply, glaring as the dog disappears inside to whine and make noises.

Paula goes after her with a purposeful tread while giving thanks Dave is at her back. Paco rushes to get there first. Running into the summer house to see the dog licking Heather’s face. He drops at her side. His eyes transformed to show hurt and worry. He looks down hopeless and lost. Not knowing what to do. She woke up but now she won’t wake up.

‘In here?’ Paula says, knowing the answer but giving some voice to show she is coming in. He looks round, showing her that hurt and pain on his face.

‘
Roy, need you now…’

‘Coming…’

‘Paco, move back…move back,’ she says, shunting him over with her body. Bites and cuts all over the woman’s body. Her arms, legs, her stomach…just everywhere. Blood all over her face. Blood on her hands and arms. Blood on the floor. She leans over the woman, gently easing an eyelid back and breathing a sigh of relief at the lack of any red.

‘She’s still breathing,’ Paula murmurs, pressing a finger into the woman’s neck.

‘Can I come in?’ Roy asks, breathing heavy from the sprint across the rear grounds.

‘Yep,’ Paula says, sitting up to rest a hand on Paco’s arm when he twitches to stare at Roy. ‘Friend,’ she says simply. ‘Roy…friend…’

‘Heather?’ Roy asks, easing his red medic bag from his back.