The Undead Day Fifteen Page 3

  ‘We go to their houses,’ Paula replies in a tone that implies she has thought this through, ‘hospitals will keep records of their staff and personnel, we find a large hospital and access the records. I bet they’ll have paper records somewhere in case of an IT failure.’

  ‘Doesn’t need to be a large hospital,’ Maddox interjects, ‘even a local surgery will do it…’

  ‘I was thinking of going for surgical doctors, those with experience of major trauma and serious injuries,’ Paula explains.

  Frowning I take a sip of coffee and feel the first itch of the day for a smoke, ‘disease experts are what we need, but…’ I sigh slowly, ‘at this stage I think any doctor will suffice, well I mean a medical doctor anyway.’

  ‘Maybe then,’ Clarence cuts in, ‘we should go for Army doctors, they’ll have front line battle injury expertise and be used to working in the worst conditions. We need weapons and ammunition right?’ His meaty forearms rest on the table which creaks under his weight, ‘so we go for a military establishment, a big one with a medical unit. The Navy has got a training hospital just outside of Portsmouth, they used it for treating soldiers coming back from Iraq and Afghanistan.’

  ‘Fucking Portsmouth,’ I show my evident distaste with a sneer, ‘I hate that place, shit I hated it before but now…’

  Paula looks from Clarence to me, ‘it’s a good idea, we get ammunition, weapons and find medical staff…then we can go for the supplies they need…or,’ she suggests quietly, ‘we divide our forces and send out two teams to…’

  ‘No way,’ I cut her off firmly, ‘we stay together at all times, not after what happened yesterday and almost losing Nick. We’ve got some good skills in this team so we keep together and make the best use of them. Maddox,’ I switch my gaze to the intent looking young man watching me from his deep intelligent eyes, ‘you alright staying here?’

  He nods and draws breath, ‘I’ll stay but on one condition.’

  ‘What’s that?’ I ask him, everyone pausing to hear him out.

  ‘You take Jagger and Mo Mo, get them trained up to your standard.’

  I can feel the instant uncertainty from my team, Nick shifts position and both Cookey and Blowers look down. I glance to Dave but he just stares back as devoid as ever. Lani shrugs and finally I look to Clarence who nods while turning the corners of his mouth down, agreeable but reluctantly so.

  ‘They’ll take orders?’ Clarence asks, ‘instantly and with no stupid comments or arguments.’

  ‘I’ll speak to them,’ Maddox replies simply, ‘they’ll do as you say.’

  ‘Fair enough then, so my team, Paula and Roy and Jagger and Mo Mo…we go get stuff and bring it back while you lot stay here and do more stuff.’

  ‘Stuff?’ Lani laughs, ‘great orders there.’

  I shrug and sip at my coffee, ‘I need a smoke.’

  ‘Smoke then,’ Lenski says bluntly.

  ‘Can’t smoke in here,’ I recoil in almost shock, the years of habit are ingrained, no smoking in government buildings, no smoking in pubs or clubs, no smoking inside anywhere. The ruling was right, smoking kills but then so do zombies…and storms…and mad dirty bastard pretend doctors. Still, Lilly is young and not everyone here smokes so I know it would be unfair, ‘we can wait.’

  ‘Then we go outside and you smoke yes?’ Lenski is up and walking to the door, Nick is on his feet and already pulling a packet of cigarettes from his pocket as he offers an apologetic look at Lilly.

  This is nuts. We’re the survivors at the end of mankind and we’re traipsing outside to have a smoke, all of us gathering in a loose circle as the cigarettes and lighters get handed round. Paula lights up and closes her eyes as she savours the first drag of smoke. Nick looks content, holding a mug of coffee while smoking and standing next to the gorgeous girl he saved. Me, Cookey and Blowers complete the smokers within our group.

  ‘You two,’ Maddox ‘s deep voice interrupts my reverie as he summons Jagger and Mo Mo strolling past us.

  ‘What’s up, Mads?’ One of them asks. I think its Jagger but I’m still struggling to tell them apart.

  ‘You’re both going out with Mr Howie and his crew yeah?’ Maddox explains.

  ‘Sweet,’ the other one grins, showing a row of chipped teeth surrounded by a whispy beard on a pale face kept hidden from the sun under a filthy baseball cap.

  ‘You do what they say, you get me. No backchat or shit.’ Maddox speaks simple and blunt, using only the words that are necessary, nothing more and nothing less.

  ‘Got it,’ the first one nods. This one has darker skin, maybe mixed race, with darker hair. The penny drops as I realise this one is Mo Mo, shot for Mohammed, he must be the darker haired one. Then I realise that I might be racist for assuming that the one with the darker hair and features is the one with the Islamic name. Then I start thinking about Islam and Muslims and how they pray several times a day and I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen this lad praying ever.

  ‘What does Mo Mo mean?’ Dave asks flatly.

  ‘Mohammed innit bruv,’ Mo Mo answers with a nod.

  ‘Is Jagger your proper name?’ Dave switches to the other one and I smile inwardly that he has saved me from having to work it out.

  ‘Yeah bruv,’ Jagger replies.

  ‘I’m not bruv, or mate…I’m Dave…just Dave…that is Mr Howie. Understand?’

  ‘Yeah, sweet,’ Jagger keeps nodding, clearly cowed by the small quiet man. After the last night and having seen him fight I’m not surprised they are both in awe.

  ‘That is Simon Blowers, if you find yourselves alone without Mr Howie, me or Clarence then you take orders from him. Do you understand? He is like a corporal; he takes charge when we are absent.’

  ‘What?’ Cookey exclaims, ‘why can’t I be a corporal?’

  ‘You’ll never be a corporal,’ Blowers rocks on his heels in ecstatic bliss at being promoted over his friend.

  ‘No, hang on,’ Cookey bleats, ‘Mr Howie can give promotions…Mr Howie…can I be a…’

  ‘Not a chance,’ I grin.

  ‘No but…’

  ‘Not happening,’ Clarence cuts him off.

  ‘Oh this is the worst day ever,’ Cookey groans, ‘this is worster than that time Dave killed April when I was about to touch her boobs…’

  ‘She was a fucking zombie,’ Blowers tuts, ‘and there’s no such word as worster.’

  ‘Yeah but she loved me,’ Cookey sighs, ‘we were gonna get married and have a honeymoon and everything.’

  ‘What?’ Maddox shakes his head, confused at the conversation.

  ‘Tell you another time,’ I explain before Cookey can launch into another tale about Marcy and get me in trouble with Lani.

  ‘She had massive ti…’ Cookey starts to say, cut off by Dave snapping Alex before he can finish the sentence.

  ‘Ah well,’ Cookey half grins, intent on having the last word, ‘I’m immune so you can blow me, Blowers,’ he grins and laughs as Blowers shakes his head again, ‘Ha! Blow me Blowers…I never thought of that before…Blow me Blowers.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake,’ Blowers groans. I watch Paula grinning and laughing softly, others too. Even the hard faced Lenski is looking on in amusement. Give Cookey an audience and he’ll go on all day and Blowers does make an awesome straight man to Cookey’s gags.

  ‘That fog is touching the top of the fort,’ Dave interrupts the stupidity. Turning round we all stare up to watch the thick misty cloud as it rolls over the top walls, obscuring them in places and with such a low blanket it gives the fort a very enclosed feeling, ‘we’ll need rope.’

  ‘What for?’ I ask him.

  ‘So we can tie together, fog like this can make a man get lost within seconds.’

  ‘Probably only here mate,’ I look back up at the top of the wall, ‘the sun will burn it away soon anyway. Right, we move out in fifteen minutes. Kit ready, lads you get what shotguns and cartridges you can find. Weapons cleaned, clothes dry and everyone freshly shaved with
clean boots.’

  ‘Seriously?’ Cookey asks in alarm at the prospect of both shaving and having to clean his filthy boots.

  ‘No mate,’ although I suspect that Dave would have them lined up ready for kit inspection given his way.

  The fifteen minutes doesn't quite work. We end up having another coffee and scrabbling about trying to find anything that might be dry enough to wear as the clothes we got from the safari park are ruined and still sodden from the storm. With so many guards in the fort needing weapons now, we’re reduced to one sawn off shotgun each, pistols and hand weapons. A sorry state we find ourselves in, grumbling about wet pants, wet socks, no decent weapons and Nick trying to remember where he left the Saxon.

  So half an hour later and we’re pretty much ready, or as ready as we’ll ever be. Trooping out the sorry looking gates onto the small strip of land to the front of the fort, at which point we all stop and stare.

  ‘Oh,’ I sigh again for the twentieth time since being up, ‘that…’ I say slowly, ‘is some foggy shit.’

  ‘It is,’ Dave says next to me. We can see about a foot from the edge of the water, literally no further than that, and the surface of the water looks like a mirror, perfectly flat with barely a ripple on the surface. No noise from anywhere, even the fort now seems far behind us. Thick white clouds that roll and slide in a confusing and never ending pattern of chaos.

  ‘The boats are there,’ Clarence says from the end of the line.

  Cookey steps forward to peer into the white gloom, then he slowly turns and scratches his head, ‘how we gonna find the land?’

  ‘It’s that way,’ Nick points dead ahead, ‘we just go in that direction.’

  ‘We get six feet from this land and we won’t know any direction,’ Clarence mutters, ‘Dave, you got a compass?’

  ‘I have,’ Dave answers, followed by a few seconds of silence during which time Clarence takes a calming breath.

  ‘Can we use it then?’ He asks with forced patience.

  ‘Yes,’ Dave stares ahead at the fog, ‘we’ll need Meredith,’ he turns to look at me.

  ‘She’s here,’ Nick replies, ‘she came out with us.’ Dave looks down the line to see the furry long nose of Meredith edging past Nick’s legs. Dave digs into a pocket and pulls out a small round compass, he flicks the lid open and stares for a few seconds.

  ‘Okay,’ he announces.

  ‘Okay what?’ Clarence asks.

  Dave stares along to the big man and shrugs, ‘Okay Clarence?’

  ‘No, I mean okay what? What is okay? Okay you got the direction? Okay we’re ready to go…okay what?’

  ‘Yes,’ Dave replies.

  ‘Fuckin…’

  ‘Dave,’ I cut across Clarence as he gets ready to implode and sense we’re in for another very long day. We need more coffee, we need food and dry clothes, and we need a sodding day off. ‘Have you got the direction of the land?’

  ‘Yes,’ Dave nods again as though that much is obvious.

  ‘So we can go?’ I ask him.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Great, so…we’ll do that then…to the boats,’ I try a little mock cheer but it falls flat.

  ‘Nice try,’ Lani whispers as she falls into step beside me.

  ‘Thanks, listen…I’m really sorry about last night, I still feel bad about it.’

  ‘Don’t,’ Lani is back to being as blunt as Dave. I’m still getting to know her but I’m guessing she has a work mode and a private mode. ‘All aboard then,’ I quip as we reach the first boat, ‘how many we taking?’

  ‘Two…I’m in this one and Dave can go in that one,’ Clarence shoves the front of his boat, forcing the thing to slide back into the water. Jagger and Mo Mo make for his boat, quickly moving to either side of him to help push the last few inches.

  ‘I’ll jump in that one,’ Nick offers and moves towards Clarence.

  ‘Come on then,’ the rest of us push our boat into the water and wade out to climb aboard. A loud splash has us all spinning round to draw weapons until we see the dog paddling round the back of Nick’s boat, clearly having already decided which one she wants to go in. Clarence leans down and hefts her in with ease, at which point she shakes and promptly wobbles to the front to sit staring out with her pink tongue hanging down.

  ‘Rope,’ Dave throws the end of his rope at the first boat, the end of which catches Clarence on the cheek as he stands upright. A very dark and very frosty glare goes on for a few seconds until the big man swallows it down and grasps the rope firmly in one hand.

  ‘Tie it on,’ Dave orders.

  ‘I’ll hold it,’ Clarence replies.

  ‘Tie it on…what if you fall in?’

  ‘I won’t,’ Clarence growls.

  ‘Enough,’ I snap, ‘this is shitty enough without you two being twats. Pack it in and grow up.’ The anger flashes from me, a hard tone through gritted teeth and one that makes the others all stare at me with sudden concern.

  Clarence immediately drops his gaze from Dave and nods. ‘Sorry boss,’ he mutters then clears his throat, ‘just tired, it won’t happen again.’

  ‘Dave?’ I turn to look at him, refusing to let him off the hook.

  ‘Yes, Mr Howie?’

  ‘Switch on and stop being belligerent.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Howie. Sorry, Mr Howie,’ he looks genuinely remorseful with a look of abject misery at being told off.

  ‘Tie the rope on, Dave you lead. Nick you take the motor on that one and Blowers you do this one. We’ll stop for more coffee and dry clothes when we can but until then I don’t want any fucking about, do you understand?’

  A chorus of muttered replies, yes boss and yes Mr Howie sound back at me. Paula and Roy look down at the ground as though embarrassed.

  Two small engines are fired up, the putput noise seemingly too loud for the claustrophobic environment of the dense fog. Nick holds his boat steady until Blowers navigates slowly past, Cookey taking the opportunity to stick his middle finger up at Nick as he passes. Dave settles in the very middle of the boat and already looks ashen from his intense dislike of being on the water. He focusses his worry onto the compass, staring intently at the little hands on the clock-like face. As we pass the first boat and the rope draws out until we feel the jerk from the tension, Dave extends one hand out with the palm facing in, pointing in the direction we need to go.

  ‘Mr Howie,’ Cookey nods back to where the shore should be but instead all we can see is thick cloud that rolls and moves around us. The air is filled with moisture, not cold or even refreshing after the storm but somehow still warm, like the very air is charged. The only noise comes from the engines as we push further into the unknown.

  ‘Can’t see a thing,’ Paula mutters as she looks about. Roy remains passive and watchful, his bow in one hand with his rucksack holding the arrows strapped firmly to his back.

  ‘You’re going off course,’ Dave replies waving his hand as he motions for Blowers to steer to the right.

  Meredith’s barking breaks the silence. On all fours she leans over the front of the boat with her eyes and ears fixed dead ahead. She stops barking, cocks her head and starts again, lips pulled back to show her deadly white teeth.

  ‘Weapons at the ready. What is it?’ I call back.

  Clarence moves to the front of his vessel and rests one hand on the dog’s neck. ‘No idea,’ he shrugs, ‘easy girl,’ he soothes the hair on Meredith’s neck urging her gently to stop barking. She complies but continues with the low deep growling we’ve all come to know so well.

  Eyes strain as we peer into the whiteness but we can’t see further than a few inches past the front of our lead boat. Lani and Cookey take a side each, staring intently. The two lads in Nick’s boat do the same. Only Dave remains seated and despite the prospect of their being a baddie to slay he still looks completely miserable.

  ‘FUCK!’ I stagger forward from a blunt impact, dropping my axe as I flail to keep my balance. The boat hits something hard and despite the slow
speed we’re all jolted. Blowers veers to the side too quickly at the same time as opening the throttle. The movement, along with the impact jolts me too far forward and I’m over the side plunging into the sea amidst a chorus of yells. My heavy boots and clothes immediately fill with water and start dragging me down, forcing me to kick hard to break the surface. As I come up spluttering I spin round and spot the first boat already well past my position and the second boat coming straight at me. With no choice I dunk back under and dive down as the front of the boat smacks into my back driving the air from my lungs. It seems an eternity as the boats underside judders me along in a whirl of bubbles and watery screams. With a surge of panic I think of the propeller and drive off to the side, kicking furiously to avoid being ripped apart from the spinning metal blades.

  God knows how I avoid it but a few seconds later and once again I’m spluttering as I get back up to the surface as my gag reflex kicks in from the salt water I just ingested. Eyes burning, vision blurred and I feel someone next to me, a hand reaching out to steady my panicked splashing about. I grasp the arm and hear shouts as the others call my name and tell me to wait there, then more shouts, louder and more urgent. I finally get my eyes open and stare at the corpse I’m clinging onto, a rancid swollen thing of no discernible gender or age. A bloated body that gives me a brief shock in recoil. I spin round and see more of them bobbing nearby. Some turned down in the classic floating corpse style of face down, others on their backs or sides. So many of them and only the motion of the boats has disturbed the otherwise placid waters and caused them to move.

  ‘We hit a body,’ Cookey yells out needlessly.

  ‘Really?’ I shout back and hear Blowers giving some harsh abuse at the obvious statement his mate just made.

  ‘And Dave dropped the compass,’ he adds helpfully, ‘so we’ve lost our direction…’

  ‘I can’t see you,’ I shout and feel that surge of panic again as I realise the two boats are completely gone from view. Clarence shouts an order and both engines are cut instantly plunging the whole area into near perfect silence.

  ‘That doesn’t help,’ I yell out, ‘make noise…’