The Undead Day Twenty (19 page)

‘Damnation,’ he mutters, huffs and walks across the road to gain a proper view. ‘Where is Maddox?’

‘FUCK!’ Paula snaps, turning quickly to aim her rifle at him. ‘Don’t bloody do that…’

‘Maddox? Where is he? He’s not dead is he?’

‘With Blowers in the middle,’ Marcy says.

‘I say, Roy. Can you see him from up there?’

‘Yep,’ Roy says, loosing a shot. ‘Come up.’

‘Up there? Gosh I think not. How ungainly. What is he doing?’

‘Who?’ Roy asks.

‘Reggie, what are you doing?’ Marcy asks.

‘Maddox of course, what is he doing?’

‘Fighting,’ Roy says.

‘Well yes I assumed he was fighting but how? Do you see a difference?’

‘He’s bloody lost it,’ Marcy mutters.

‘He never had it to start with,’ Paula replies.

‘Difference in what?’ Roy asks, glancing down while he pulls another arrow from his bag.

‘Oh yes of course you don’t know. I mean…’ Reginald says.

‘Know what?’ Roy asks, nocking the arrow as he lifts to aim.

‘Never mind that for now. Is there a difference?’

‘Difference in what, Reginald?’ Roy asks.

‘His er…ability I think is probably the right way of saying it. In comparison to everyone else I mean.’

‘Ability?’ Marcy asks.

‘Fighting ability,’ Reginald says. ‘The way he fights. Is it different?’

‘Oh…hang on…’ Roy lowers his bow and peers at the battle, spotting Maddox slashing wildly left and right. ‘Well he’s using a knife instead of an axe…is that what you mean?’

‘No. Gosh I really need to see for myself.’

‘Go up with Roy and have a look,’ Paula says.

Reginald balks at the very suggestion. The mere thought of clambering up the side of a vehicle is simply abhorrent. The indignity of it. The embarrassment. Gosh no. No indeed. He stiffens and pushes his hands behind his back.

‘Want a boost?’ Marcy asks.

‘A boost? No I do not want a boost. I most certainly would not like to be boosted anywhere…’

‘Was only asking, Reg.’

‘Reginald! Or Reggie if you must.’

‘Paula just called me Marce.’

‘That is simply divine and I for one am most happy for you but my name is…’

‘Friends abbreviate friends names, Reggie,’ Marcy says with a sigh. ‘Sign of endearment.’

‘Good Lord, Marcy. Can we focus on the matter at hand? Roy, I really need to know if there is a visible difference between Maddox and the others. Is he slower? Faster? Of equal speed?’

‘Er…slower,’ Roy says.

‘Noticeably so or marginally so?’

‘Noticeably.’

‘Gosh indeed. Yes indeed. I really do need to see. I do. Indeed I do. Tally forth then I say. What must be done shall be done. Yes, Heather would you oblige me?’

‘Sorry what?’

‘I said I’d give you a boost, Reggie,’ Marcy says.

‘I do not wish a boost,’ Reginald says stiffly. ‘And Heather has kindly volunteered to assist me.’

‘Have I?’

‘Up we go. I say, is the best route from the wheel to the bonnet then up the windscreen?’

‘For you yes,’ Roy says.

‘You want to go up there?’ Heather asks the strange little man in the glasses.

‘Oh yes, I need to see. I really do,’ Reginald says, waiting expectantly.

‘Er…’ Heather says, unsure of what he’s waiting for.

‘He’s incompetent at anything that doesn’t involve a pen, Heather,’ Marcy says.

‘Just tell him what to do, love,’ Paula adds.

Heather blinks and blows air with a slight pause before forming a cradle with her hands and lowering down to stare at Reginald.

Reginald stares back, down at her hands then back up to her. ‘And what do I do now exactly?’ He asks politely.

‘You put your foot in my hands and I lift you up.’

‘All the way up there?’ Reginald asks, looking up at Roy.

‘No. To the bonnet then you go up the next bit.’

‘Oh. Oh yes. Yes I see. How wonderful. You are very good at this, Heather I must say. Righto, so my foot goes in there does it? Which foot? Does it make a difference?’

‘Er…any foot will do.’

‘Ah yes, right so I shall use my right foot. Gosh your hands are very high, do you think you can lower them a bit, perhaps a bit more? Yes, just a bit more…and again?’

Heather drops and drops until her hands are inches from the floor so Reginald can step in with a smile.

‘Up we go,’ he says.

‘You need to hold on….no not me…the van.’

‘Oh I am dreadfully sorry,’ Reginald says, pulling his hands from her head. ‘On the van you say.’

‘Yes, ready…’ she surges up, expecting more weight. Reginald yelps, falling into the side of the van as Marcy snorts a laugh.

‘Just push him up,’ Paula says, slinging her rifle for a second to help shove Reginald onto the bonnet. ‘Go on…pull yourself then…’

‘I am trying I am,’ Reginald yelps again, flailing his limbs in an effort to try and swim through the solid metal sides.

‘Fuck’s sake,’ Marcy laughs again. ‘Roy, keep an eye.’

‘I am.’

Marcy grabs the handle as Roy did and pulls up to get a foot on the bonnet. A deft twist and a shift of weight and she steps over Reginald while still laughing. ‘Come here you bloody idiot,’ she grabs his shoulders, heaving him up while Paula and Heather push his feet.

‘Gosh! Oh my…I’m falling off…’

‘Just stand up,’ Marcy says, still laughing.

‘I cannot! I am falling.’

‘Reggie…Reggie…you’re on the bonnet…just stand up.’

‘I’m falling. Hold onto me…’

‘Get off my legs for fuck’s sake…oh you…right, just stand up. There, now see?’

‘Oh,’ Reginald says, rolling onto his backside. ‘Indeed. Yes. That worked. Well done, Heather.’

He stands carefully as though the van will suddenly throw him off like a bucking horse. Clinging to Marcy he turns to the battle and goes up on tiptoes but tuts and huffs again.

‘Go on then,’ Marcy says, nodding at the windscreen. ‘Roy, grab his hand?’

‘Yep, be quick then,’ Roy says, reaching down.

‘Gosh. Will it hurt?’ Reginald asks, tentatively reaching for his hand.

‘Will if you don’t hurry up,’ Marcy says.

‘Ready?’ Roy asks, not giving him time to reply but heaving the man up the windscreen while Marcy pushes his legs.

Reginald screams. He screams for the fear of it. Heads turns and look.

‘Stand up,’ Roy says, dragging him back further onto the roof.

Reginald stops screaming and finally opens his eyes to look down at the solid roof of the van. He stands slowly again. Still convinced the roof will cave in or the van will start rolling with him on it.

‘Ah now…yes. Yes I can see now,’ Reginald says, staring round at the battle for several long seconds. ‘And where exactly am I looking?’

‘There,’ Roy says, pointing towards the middle.

‘Indeed,’ Reginald says, nodding while narrowing his eyes. ‘Er no. Cannot see a thing there, Roy. We’re looking for Maddox.’

‘Yes. He is right there.’

‘Yes. Where?’

‘Right there.’

‘Where?’

Roy grits his teeth, aims and fires an arrow that flies an inch from the back of Maddox’s head to hit an infected further back. ‘There…see him.’

‘Oh yes, yes I have him now. Indeed.’

Reginald watches the young man and marks the position before seeking out the others. He finds Clarence first and works from the big man to the others before trying to spot Maddox again. ‘Ah, afraid I lost him again, Roy.’

Roy fires again. Another arrow goes in inch past Maddox’s head making the man look round with a confused glance.

‘Ah yes, I have him now,’ Reginald says, his hands once again behind his back. It really does give a commanding view from up here. He can see the whole fight taking place. There’s Howie doing his thing right there. Very fast. Very fast indeed. Blowers and his team right there. Again very fast. Yes, very fluid. Organic almost. Now where was Maddox again? There he is. Oh yes. The difference is most noticeable. Maddox can fight and fight well but his speed is noticeably different to the rest. He spots Lilly at the far edge of the battle being protected by Dave and Mo. Something in that view sparks his interest. A large built male stands close to Lilly. Tanned and weathered, tough looking and covered in tattoos. A similarity to the other man nearby, then another and another. He counts them quickly, his eyes absorbing details that his brain breaks down to component parts in order to fully grasp the situation. He takes a step forward with sudden interest. Twelve men all of the same kind. All tanned. All weathered. All thick limbed and just ever so slightly different in a way that sets them apart. Some are fighting, some gather round Lilly and are clearly ready to do harm should the need arise. Those that fight are like Maddox. Tough and competent but they are not the same as Mr Howie and his group.

He stands and watches closely. The intense danger of climbing the van now forgotten as his mind whirls with a hundred or more strands of thoughts. He takes it all in. The hosts. The changes in them. Maddox. The men near Lilly. All of it. The whole of it. The game at hand. He nods to himself as the plan forms and the way ahead starts to show itself.

‘Indeed,’ he mutters. ‘We shall be busy.’

As the fight ends so Paco prowls the battlefield, staring down at his kills as though wishing they would rise so he can kill them again. His eyes as red as the infected but the intelligence and spark of life within him sets him apart. A groan sounds out. An infected male lifts his head. His body broken and ruined but his mind still filled with the urge to bite. He’s a big man too. Thick limbs and a solid torso that give weight to his form that is lifted with ease by a man that has no voice in his head telling him a thing cannot be done.

The rest freeze. Staring over at Paco holding a fully-grown adult above his head with the power of his arms alone. A second frozen in time. An image seared into minds the same as when Charlie walked down the ruined street on Jess. An image that marks another twist in the journey.

‘I could do that,’ Clarence’s deep voice rumbles out.

Paco stiffens, his upper lip curling back. Meredith runs, cantering at first then powering on as Paco hefts and sends the body sailing through the air to land in the space directly in front of the dog who launches in with a viciously deep snarl. A bite. A rag. The head is torn from the body.

‘Would have thrown him further,’ Clarence mutters.

‘Gosh I need to get down now…’

They all turn from Paco to Reginald dropping to his backside to stare down the windscreen with a look of abject fear. He goes to slide then stops. Goes again and stops. He whimpers, closes his eyes and turns to lie on his belly then slides down the screen with a yelp. He lands on the bonnet, rolling and flailing about until Marcy and Paula reach up to drag him over to the edge then lift him down to the ground.

‘Is that little man alright there, Peter?’ A thick accent mutters behind Lilly.

‘Thank you,’ Reginald says primly, pulling the wedgy out of his backside and plucking his collar back to where it should be. He sets off towards the sea of corpses, tutting and holding his hands away from his body as he gingerly threads a route through the corpses.

‘Well done one and all,’ Reginald calls out. ‘Most satisfying. Indeed. Several hundred here. Yes. Well. Gosh, they are a mess aren’t they? OH MY GOODNESS LOOK OUT…that one moved…someone get him…’

A blur. A shot. A head explodes.

‘Well done, Dave,’ Reginald exclaims, breathless with fright as though he just faced certain death once again. The bluster and pomp hide the eyes flicking to absorb and process. He takes in the men stood round Lilly. The blood on their bodies, the blood on their arms and hands, the blood smeared across their faces from where they wiped those hands across their heads. The same as Maddox. Blood on his hands. Blood everywhere that would have sprayed and landed in tiny droplets that would have gone unnoticed in the midst of the fight. Notions form. Objective. Subjective. Conjecture.

‘Indeed. Yes so well done to all of you for your splendid achievements and so forth but shall we press on? We have much to do. Ah, young Lilly. I watched you from afar but yes, very well done there and gosh, they are some rogues surrounding you aren’t they? Oh my, tattoos on tattoos. Are you Gypsies by any chance?’

‘Reggie!’ Paula whispers.

‘One of yours is he now?’ Peter asks quietly.

‘That’s Reginald,’ Lilly says. ‘He is an exceptionally intelligent man.’

‘Gypsies?’ Reginald asks again, wincing and tutting as he works to avoid treading on anything bleeding, broken or organic in nature.

‘That we are,’ Peter says warily.

‘Indeed. I gathered as much. Related are you? My understanding of your community is that you all tend to be related. Is that true?’