I Dream of Zombies (12 page)

“Are you
alright?” asked Tommy, reaching her first. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you.”

Ellen
peered at him out of the corner of her eye, unable to move. He stepped back and kicked the corpse away when he saw the mixture of shock and fright on her face.

“Give me the gun,” said Marla
when she reached her sister. She gave Tommy a small smile to reassure him that she did not blame him in the slightest. It was her fault. She should never have left her sister alone, she knew that. Ellen did not move, so Marla inched closer and pushed the matted hair out of her innocent-looking face. “It’s alright. Just give me the gun.”

As if
noticing her sister properly for the very first time, Ellen gasped and dropped the weapon. Trembling, she curled her arms around Marla’s neck and burst into a fit of tears that made her body shake. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled through her sobs. “I couldn’t do it.”

“It’s okay,” Marla
replied, stroking her sister’s hair. “It’s okay, but please try not to think of them as people. They’re animals with animal instincts.”

Something connected with Ellen and she pulled away. “But I like animals. Animals wouldn’t do that…”

“She has a point,” Tommy agreed, wiping his bloodied knife on a patch of grass.

“Think of them as things
then,” Marla continued. “Things that are not people or even living, because they’re just not anymore... They’re like shells; empty containers with nothing inside. You need to switch off, Ellen. Find a place where you don’t see them as people. I know you can shoot.”

“I can’t…”

“Ellen, you have to. Don’t make me bury you because you couldn’t shoot one of those pieces of shit. Please don’t. It would kill me. And I promise I’m not going to leave you alone again unless I really have to.”

Ellen nodded, unable to voice her feelings. Confused, she bent down and picked up the gun,
which she turned over in her hands. Could she really use it? Doubt clouded her.

“We need to go,” Tommy advised, sheathing his knife
in his pocket. “We have to get to the evacuation point.”

Marla nodded. “We’re coming
.”

Glancing around the silent car park, the trio walked as quickly as they could back to the
jeep, not saying a word until they were safely inside the locked vehicle.

***

Due to the immense level of traffic, they
reached the evacuation point at Enfield in just over an hour. The drive seemed to take even longer as no one felt like making conversation. Upon leaving the jeep in the huge car park next to the evacuation camp, Marla instructed Ellen to hide her gun inside her clothes at the bottom of her rucksack, and then she concealed her own. Queues of people, entire families in some cases, filled the area. While some stood, others sat, but they were all waiting. People in the makeshift tents were handing out refreshments or giving First Aid. Some children played, giggling, oblivious to the grim reality around them. Marla half envied them. At the front of each queue were the coaches. Soldiers and police walked to and fro, carrying out random checks and asking questions.

Marla was told they could
each take only one item of luggage and a bag of food, so Tommy returned the rest of their things to the boot of the jeep. After what seemed like hours they finally boarded one of the coaches, once Tommy had handed over his address and the keys to his house and business.

“Will my dog be fine?” he asked.
“Where will you take him? I put down enough food and water for a week. And can you really tell me that my business won’t be ransacked.”

The man in charg
e assured him as best he could that everything would be fine. Everyone was in the same boat and the animal specialists would be transporting the pets. With vets on hand, they would be fine, he added.

Tommy boarded the coach with mixed
feelings. It would be easy to drive back and get Bob, but he knew he would lose his place and be sent elsewhere, and the dog would be taken anyway. Besides, Bob would probably be fine. England was a nation of animal lovers, after all, and there would be bedlam if people’s pets were left to die.

***

The coach rumbled through the
remaining streets of London, which were muted and lonely. Litter blew along the ground and some bins rolled. Black sacks were heaped up, waiting for the army recruits to remove them now that the dustbin men were no longer showing up for work. They drove beyond the city limits, out into the unknown. The destination was an army base near Norwich, where the virus had not hit as yet, and the journey was expected to take two hours, according to the driver. After the coach left the perimeter of London, nothing moved on the roads, except for coaches, police cars and army vehicles. In some areas the public were being evacuated by train, so the national network was still working.

“Swap magazines?” asked Ellen
looking up, only to find that Marla was fast asleep, her head rocking slightly but dangerously close to the glass window. “Oh,” she added, glancing at Tommy. He wasn’t doing anything except staring straight ahead, clearly deep in thought. “Penny for them?”

“Eh?” he said, drifting back to reality.

“Your thoughts?”

He sighed. “Nothing
much. It’s creepy how there are no cars on the road. I feel like I’m in one of those end-of-the-world movies.”

“I know.”

“Most of all I’m gutted I couldn’t bring Bob and all my stuff.”

“They would have checked.”

Tommy nodded and clicked his hands together. “Still, I managed to hide one in my rucksack.”

“That’s better than nothing,” Ellen replied. “
Hey, look, there’s another coach coming across on to the motorway. Think they’re going the same way?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.
I’m going to sleep. You should get some.”

“My mind is buzzing with too many thoughts
. I’m always too scared to sleep, unless I’m in a room on my own or just with people I know.”

“I’m here.”

“But so are all these other people,” she added, lowering her voice.

“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t tell you to sleep when you’re yawning your head off
later,” he replied, leaning into his seat and crossing his arms across his chest.

Ellen glanced back to the magazine in her hands and flicked
through it, front to back and from back to front again. Everything inside the pages seemed so futile and meaningless now. Who cared about the latest conditioner, wax or celebrity hairstyle gone wrong? Who would be left to care? Closing the magazine, Ellen leaned back and stared out of the window, around her sister’s face. She looked very peaceful; something she never appeared to be while awake. Ellen wondered if her sister was happy. She seemed to just act on instinct and go with the flow. Perhaps she never stopped to wonder what she really wanted.

As for Tommy, she
considered, turning her head back to him, he was definitely more complex than he let on. Ellen, herself, seemed totally simple in comparison to them. At least she knew what she wanted to do in life: teach. And that was it. Turning, she gazed out of the back window at the fading sunshine. How she prayed that night would never come.

Bang!

Ellen jolted forwards as the coach swung sharply to the right and then to the left. Tommy slid off his seat and on to the floor, banging his head on the side of the seat in front. “Hell!” he cried out.

“Seatbelt,” said Ellen and then regr
etted the words as soon as they had left her mouth when she saw the look on his face.

“What’s going on?” asked Marla
, woken by her forehead hitting glass. Rubbing her skin, she sat up straight, checking her belt instinctively.

In front of them, people were talking and a child was crying. The driver was trying to
regain control of the coach, which was skidding along the motorway. A scream filled the air and Tommy leapt up.

“Where
you going?” asked Marla, but he had already gone, stumbling down the narrow aisle in between the seats.

A woman r
an towards him screaming loudly and Tommy grabbed her arm. She could not speak, so wide-eyed in fright that she looked ready to faint. Clasping her stomach, she weaved past him. The coach skidded again and a couple of men rose from their seats. Everyone’s reactions were so slow that it appeared that most of the passengers had been sleeping. Two more women ran into Tommy, followed by another man, all eager to push past him. Tommy paused and felt for the knife that was in his jean pocket. More screams filled the air and the coach veered off on to the hard shoulder and back again. He struggled to stand and fell into someone. As the vehicle charged across the motorway and came to a slamming halt in the central reservation, Tommy slipped down on his backside. Marla was standing behind him and she was holding a gun in her hand. He frowned.

“I hid it,” she mouthed, “where they wouldn’t look.”

Tommy erased the thoughts of her underclothes and jumped up. Running down the rest of the aisle, he stopped suddenly. A mother and child sat slumped, pale as ghosts and shaking.

“Fever,” said Marla.
“They can’t have checked people properly.”

Opposite them
an elderly man was being sick into a paper bag. He peered up, but his eyes seemed normal.

“How could they
make such a mistake?” asked Tommy. “Everything about this has been so wrong. They don’t understand the incubation period.” He hurried forward and halted.

The driver was slumped over the wheel and a man dressed in a soldier’s uniform was teari
ng the flesh from his arm. White bone jutted out as the skin was being flayed, piece by piece. Blood spurted in all directions. The nearest passengers were frozen, staring in disbelief and revulsion. One screamed and jumped up. Tommy turned and noticed another soldier sitting huddled against the window, his knees drawn up to his chin. He could not have been more than eighteen and he was shaking.

In front of him, the scene changed as the freak leapt in one
swift movement. Marla stepped back as Tommy took the full weight of the man’s body. Without hesitating, she swung her arm up and shot the dead thing clean in the head. A low groan filled the air as brains and blood splattered across the windscreen. The body of the driver, slumped across the steering wheel, began to twitch. Almost lazily, its skull rotated a little, accompanied by the cracking of bones one by one. Marla recoiled. The dead man’s jaw had been eaten away. Tommy automatically slit the throat of the creature, but nothing happened. There was no reaction. He pulled his knife out with all his might and sank it into the forehead. The creature was still.

“Forehead
,” Marla remarked with understanding. “The brain – of course! I didn’t think about it before. I bet it’s the only thing functioning, Tommy. They work on instinct – like you said about the dead man tracking the old couple by sense of smell alone.”

She turned around to see everyone standing and flinching from her in horror. “Those two were
not human. They had turned into the dead biters. One had killed the driver and he was eating him,” she announced loudly and matter-of-factly. “We’ve all seen it on the news or the internet, and here it is. It isn’t nice and it isn’t pretty, but to kill these things you need to stab them or shoot them in the forehead. Remember that. It might save your life.”

“Who are you?” asked the young soldier, who
had been huddled against the window.

“My name is Marla and t
his is Tommy. We used to be in the army, like you, so don’t worry, I’m not a mass murderer or anything. I know I shouldn’t have this gun, but…”

“Nah, I’m glad you brought it,” the
soldier replied.

“Anyone know how to drive a coach?” asked Tommy.

Two hands shot up.

“Can someone help me to get these bodies off?”
he added.

A couple of men got up and
wearing expressions of disgust they helped Tommy to do what had to be done. The bodies were dragged to the side of the road and abandoned. They cleaned up the mess in the driver’s seat as best they could with the aid of bottled water, disinfectant and some cloths. Tommy then gestured to the designated driver, who took the seat at the front. Nodding to the soldier, he asked, “Do you know how to get to our destination?”

“Yes
,” he said, getting up and appearing more alert than earlier. The shock had dissipated from his eyes and a steely determination had taken over. “I can direct the way. I have a map. My name is Simon, by the way.”

“
Cool,” said the new driver. “I’m Eric.”

Tommy smiled. “Great, but we have one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“There is a woman and child with a fever. I’m afraid they will change.”

“Change into what?” asked Simon.

“Into that,” Tommy replied, pointing to the side of the road. “We have to get them off the coach.”

“We can’t do that. They’re people. And one is a child, for God’s sake.”