“What a wimp’s drink. I’m going to get a vodka.”
Violet left Winter alone in the room while she went to get drinks from downstairs. She could hear Violet talking to Connor and their voices faded away. Winter walked towards the mirror that was leant against the wall and peered inside, seeing how bad she looked. Her green eyes revealed her fear. Her mother had always said the eyes never lied, and now Winter could see that was true.
She had somehow got dirt on her face but other than that she looked better than she thought. She quickly brushed the dirt away and looked down on the street below.
There were no more zombies now. A man dressed in a dressing gown had walked outside and was surveying the wrecked street. Glass littered the floors and rubbish had been spilt everywhere but other than that the street was in good shape. It had been grimy before hand, so a little bit more wouldn’t hurt it, Winter thought.
Winter gasped when out of nowhere a zombie had leapt at the man and started to eat away his flesh. Winter looked at the house he came out of in time to see the door being shut. The town may appear empty, but it definitely wasn’t safe.
The man lay in his own blood as the zombie that had killed him stumbled away. Then, the man stood up, his whole skin decaying and his eyes sunken in. As if he could smell her, he looked up and his bloodshot eyes met hers. She stared back at him, listened to him screech, and in no time at all a few more zombies had filled the street and were all looking up at her window.
Winter stepped back, wishing she had curtains to draw. A woman opposite pulled their curtains aside and saw Winter staring back at her. She smiled, gesturing to the zombies below and pulling a face, as if to say this happened every day. Winter replied by waving her hand and the woman disappeared behind the curtains once more.
Violet returned upstairs, carrying two bottles of Absolut vodka and two glasses. Connor was drinking a beer.
“Did you see what happened out there?” Violet asked Winter, seeing Winter stood by the windowsill.
“Yes,” Winter nodded, feeling slightly sick. “Looks like they’re just hiding out of sight.”
“I’m going to barricade the doors tonight,” Connor said.
Violet opened the vodka and poured a tiny amount into both glasses. She handed one to Winter.
“Just to numb the events of the night.” Violet grinned.
Winter smiled. She downed the vodka in one, feeling the burning of her throat. She winced at the taste. It was vile.
Violet laughed. “Not your drink?”
Winter shook her head.
The three of them sat in silence for a few moments, none of them sure what to say next. After all, none of them really knew each other. They had just been thrust together. What could you say when death was on your doorstep?
“So, how do you think it all started?” Connor asked, looking out at the gathered zombies on the street.
“Who knows?” Violet shrugged. She was on her fifth shot of vodka. “I’d say a mad man in a lab somewhere thought it would be funny to kill everyone.”
“It’s definitely a virus of some sort, isn’t it?”
Violet nodded. “That man got straight back up out there. Something shut his body down, but kept him active.”
“It’s being transmitted by a bite,” Winter said. “If you’re bitten, you’re infected, and then you turn.”
“Sounds like sexual orientation.” Violet laughed, raising her shot glass in the air.
“Mm,”
“So, basically, we need to avoid being bitten?” Connor said.
“We need to avoid them all together.” Winter joked bluntly.
“How do we kill them?”
“Well, you saw what happened when I shot them through the head,” Violet said. “Except for the splatter of blood, they just collapsed and didn’t move again. I think that kills them pretty good.”
“It certainly looked that way. Shut down their brain.” Winter nodded. “And you speared the one at my parent’s party through the head, Connor, remember?”
Connor nodded with a grimace, as if to say he did remember but didn’t want to be reminded.
“But the reports in Miami said it took lots of bullets to kill it,” Winter remembered. “So I think shots just slow it down, unless of course it’s a shot through the head.”
“So always aim for their heads!” Violet cheered. “Destroy the brain! Destroy the brain!”
“That’s difficult to do when we haven’t got guns ourselves,” Winter said, watching Violet pour another shot. She was almost halfway through the bottle.
“Do you think there’ll be a place we can find them?” Connor wondered.
“This isn’t America,” Violet said. “They don’t sell guns to anybody round here. Because we’re responsible, you see. We don’t hand out weapons to potential psychopaths.”
“Well, we could use them now,” Winter said.
“Law will be thrown out the window soon, anyway,” Connor said. “We’re breaking the law now. We’re basically squatting.”
“You’re standing up,” Violet said.
“Very funny.” Connor sighed.
“Lighten up, buddy,” Violet laughed. “Drink some drink. Have some fun! I don’t think there’ll be much more fun to have soon.”
A thought suddenly came to Winter.
“Oh my god, where are you two going to go?”
Violet and Connor looked at her.
“What do you mean?” Connor asked.
“You need to go back to your homes, to your parents, so you can leave with them. How are you going to get home? Do you live close?” Winter panicked. She was worried that they would soon have to leave her alone.
“I live in Borehamwood,” Violet said. “I’m not leaving for there unless you two come with me.”
“Why are you out so far?” Connor gasped.
“Business.”
Connor took in her appearance. He didn’t need Violet to tell him what she did.
“My parents are probably dead,” Connor said. “I think where we live isn’t safe anymore.”
Winter’s heart sunk. It was true. Hardly anybody stood a chance. Winter and Connor’s escape was just luck and luck soon ran out.
“So you’re not going back?” Winter asked Connor.
“If I went back, I’d be dead.” Connor shrugged. “If my parents are alive, I’ll find them again. I’m not leaving you.”
“Ain’t that sweet?” Violet crooned.
“So we’re going to Borehamwood?” Winter asked Violet.
Violet shrugged.
“If you two don’t mind that,” she said quietly. “I have to save my family.”
Winter nodded. Her thoughts drifted to evacuation.
“Where do you think we can go?” Winter sighed. “Are we going to have to stay here? Do you think anywhere is safe?”
“I don’t know,” Connor said. He had drunk the rest of his beer quickly after the conversation of parents. “I think tomorrow there will be information on where to go.”
“If there are any places,” Violet said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if every country is infected.”
“Remember we saw those helicopters?” Connor said suddenly. He was looking at Winter. “They were saving people, flying them away? Maybe they’re responsible for taking people to safe places?”
Winter nodded. Suddenly she felt relief.
“There’s got to be somewhere safe to go!”
“And how are we going to find a helicopter?” Violet asked. She stood up, albeit unsteadily, and walked to the window. She looked from left to right up in the sky, ignoring the gathered zombies below. “Do you see a helicopter anywhere? Because I don’t!”
“We just need to find someone,” Connor said.
“I think that’s easier said than done.” Winter sighed.
Connor joined Winter on the floor, sitting next to her and trailing fingers down her bare arms. The cut from the party earlier had stopped bleeding, but it needed attention.
“Are you okay?” He asked, looking at the wound.
Winter looked at the wound on her palm, which was still bleeding slightly. Violet observed the wounds from behind.
“I think we need to find a first aid kit,” Violet said.
“There must be one here,” Connor said.
He got up and left the room. Winter could hear him rummaging around in the kitchen.
“Whoosh, I’m drunk,” Violet said, trying to focus her attention on Winter’s cuts.
“Sit down.” Winter told her, lifting up her hand that was free of cuts and helping Violet sit on the sofa behind her.
“Don’t let me fall asleep here.”
“If you’re going to fall asleep, go and sleep in the bedroom.”
Violet took another shot of vodka, this time forgetting about the little glass and instead drinking from the bottle.
Connor came back in carrying a green first aid box. He opened it and began looking around for plasters and bandages.
“Do you know what you’re doing, Clark?” Violet asked.
“It’s Connor,” Connor said, neither laughing nor angry. He looked at Winter. “I did a first aid course before working at the coffee shop. I know what I’m doing.”
Winter looked away as he applied the bandages. She felt some cream being added and the wound on her arm began to sting. Connor tightened the bandages and began work on her hand.
“We don’t want those things out there seeing your blood,” Connor said as he worked. “They’ll be after you.”
“They’ll be after me regardless.”
When Connor had finished with the bandages, he packed away the first aid kit and stood up. He could see Violet was trying to stand up but was stumbling too much to do so. He grabbed her arm to steady her.
“Come on, Vi, you need bed.”
Violet giggled. She fell against Connor who supported her and led her to another room. When he came back, Violet wasn’t with him.
“She was asleep before she hit the bed,” Connor grinned. “I’m going to barricade those doors downstairs.”
“Do you want me to help?”
Connor thought for a few moments. Before he could answer, a particularly loud thud from a body hitting against the window downstairs greeted them. Winter looked at Connor with slight fear.
“Yes, I think that would be good.” He laughed nervously.
Winter got up. She hadn’t drunk much so didn’t feel too bad. Her dress was cold from the blood that had splattered all over it, and she was sure it was wet with spilt alcohol.
“Connor, these scratches…do you think they transmit infection?”
Connor stopped. “How are you feeling? Do you feel different?”
“No. I feel fine. I didn’t really notice these wounds. They’re not from those things…”
“I think it’s just a bite.” Connor reassured her, although he didn’t sound convinced. “I think we avoid contact with them all together.”
Connor took her hand and they walked down into the diner once more. It seemed to be darker with the blinds drawn. Winter wondered what they could use to board up the doors, until she saw Connor lifting up one of the metal tables and moving it over to the door. Winter hurried to help him, trying not to make it obvious that the table was too heavy for her.
They set it down, breathing out a sigh of relief, and pushed it up against the door. Winter tried to keep it as quiet as possible.
“I think we should block up that kitchen door,” Winter said, walking over to the back room door where the waitress had been killed. The stools still remained where they had left them, but they didn’t look sturdy enough.
Winter moved the stools away and peered through the circular window in the door. The waitress and the three zombies lay motionless. However, behind the other door that gained access to the kitchen from outside, Winter could see zombies trying to break in. She praised herself for locking it beforehand.
Taking a few of the barstools, Winter placed them against the kitchen door. She tried to wedge them beneath the door, but to no avail. Connor told her to move out of the way and he placed a sofa in front of the stools so they were more difficult to move.