The Undead Day Twenty (49 page)

‘And zombie spiders today,’ Cookey says.

‘We are not mentioning that ever again,’ Paula says quickly.

‘So we might get zombie ferrets,’ Cookey adds.

‘They’d be mean little bastards they would,’ Marcy says. ‘I got bit by a ferret once…’

‘On the arse?’

‘Cookey!’

‘Alex.’

‘Sorry, Marcy. Was only a joke.’

‘It’s fine,’ she says waving a hand at him. ‘If anyone else said it I’d go nuts.’

‘Ferrets go for nuts,’ Blinky says.

‘Oh good one,’ Nick laughs.

‘Get fucked.’

‘Anyway,’ Cookey says, ‘we’ve got t’speak t’language in t’north up ladder lad in a flatcap eating t’pie…’

‘This is bordering on racism,’ Paula says.

‘It’s not racist to take the piss out of northern people,’ Nick says.

‘You are so politically correct, Miss Paula.’

‘Someone has to be, Mr Howie.’

‘Reggie? Will it do zombie birds?’ Cookey asks.

‘How on could I…’

‘Don’t be baited, Reggie,’ Paula says.

‘What about zombie worms, Reggie?’ Nick asks.

‘Zombie cats,’ Blinky says.

‘Enough,’ Howie calls out, ‘why north, Blowers?’

‘Ignore me, I think I banged my head…’

‘You okay?’ Charlie asks.

‘Mate, you alright?’ Nick asks.

‘Roy, is he okay?’ Paula says as the ripples of concern go round the room which make Blowers squirm and wish he’d kept his bloody mouth shut.

‘I’ll er…I’ll get some fresh air if that’s okay,’ Blowers says, standing up from his straw bale with too many people trying to help. ‘I’m fine…honestly…just get a bit of air. Nick, you got a smoke?’

‘That won’t help,’ Roy says.

‘Ah be fine,’ Blowers mutters.

‘I’ll come with you,’ Nick says. ‘Cookey?’

‘Yep, coming…’

Blowers rolls his eyes as Howie smiles at the whole of Blowers team escorting him outside.

‘Might have one actually,’ Paula says. ‘Howie? You coming for one?’

‘Aye.’

‘That’s what northern people say,’ Cookey calls out, ‘they say
aye
a lot.’

‘Well,’ Roy says to Clarence, Marcy and Reginald, ‘just us then. Did you see the longbow earlier? I’ve got it right here if you wanted to see it.’

‘Quick,’ Paula mouths rushing outside with Howie to escape the longbow lecture that’s just starting behind them.

‘Forgive me, Roy. I have work to do,’ Reginald says gravely, adding a sincere nod before turning to rush off.

‘Did you feed Meredith?’ Marcy asks Clarence.

‘No! No I don’t think I did…I’ll go do it now.’

‘She had food,’ Roy says, holding his longbow.

‘Did she?’ Marcy asks weakly, sitting back down.

‘Big dog though,’ Clarence says, ‘she probably wants seconds.’

‘Pudding,’ Marcy says, rising again with Clarence.

‘Pudding,’ Clarence says, lifting a hand at Roy.

‘Dogs do not eat pudding,’ Roy mumbles, staring forlornly at his longbow then realising everyone is now outside smoking. ‘I’ll come out with it,’ he adds brightly, rushing after them to the door.

Later. Much later. Very much later, after Roy has discussed the merits of the compound, recurve and modern bows and given examples of firing speed, aiming and the draw weight, which was of course shared by
suggesting
everyone have a go at pulling it. After he then switched to the longbow and discussed the history, design and usage in battles and again
suggested
they each have
a pull
to feel the draw weight. After that, and of course the show of firing at a static target.

After all of that, they quietly disperse to drift inside with much yawning and stretching of limbs from being lulled into boredom by the very long and detailed lecture. Blinky even said
this is boring as shit
but it had no effect.

Blowers stays outside leaning against the side of the barn as his mind once more drifts back to the church and the thing he now considers was definitely a dream. He listens to the quiet conversations inside and the rustling as they move about and prepare for the night. Marcy comes out to check the Saxon is ready for the first watch before smiling and heading back inside to brew up.

The air is cooler than it was. The pressure eased by the brief storm. He casts his gaze towards the town and the glow of the immense fires reflecting off the low clouds. Meredith comes out for her nightly check on who is where. She moves out to Jess, sniffs and wags her tail then looks down to Paco, Heather and Dave further down the field. She goes to the back of the van and looks inside at Reginald then turns to walk back towards the barn.

Blowers watches her. The calmness of her manner and now she seems just a normal dog and not the thing inside their heads when it starts going bent. He looks round quickly, furtively and thinks for a second.

‘Bear?’

The reaction is instant. Her head snaps to him. Ears cocked. Eyes fixed. Her whole manner poised and alert. He smiles at himself being such a dick but again checks round.

‘Bear?’ he mutters again, pretending not to be looking at her.

She comes to him instantly, responding to the name she was given by her old pack. Not that Blowers knows that.

‘Bear?’

She whines and pushes her nose into his hand. Her tail wagging furiously.

‘Is that your name?’ he drops to a crouch, his right hand rubbing her head and down her long neck. 'Bear yeah? Bear? Are you Bear?’

Each utterance gains a response. She licks him, whines, wags her tails and cocks her head to the side. Her eyes fixed on him.

‘Good girl,’ he rubs and pats, fussing her head and ears. ‘I wish that was your name eh? Bear? Is it Bear?’ he chuckles at the response, grinning widely and knowing it proves fuck all.

‘Ah bless, she’s enjoying that,’ Marcy says, walking towards the Saxon with a blanket.

‘She looks like a bear,’ Blowers says, laughing at her whine and head tilt when she hears the name.

‘She does doesn’t she,’ Marcy says, ditching the blanket inside then walking back. ‘You okay? Need anything?’

‘Nah I’m fine, thanks, Marcy.’

‘Okay, I’m brewing up for me and Howie if you want one.’

‘Er…nah, I’d better get some sleep…Marcy?’

‘Yeah, what’s up?’

‘Ask a question?’

‘Of course,’ she says, walking over to stand closer. She drops down to join him fussing the dog. ‘Blowers?’ she asks when he doesn’t say anything. She sees the trouble on his face. The hesitation at speaking his mind.

‘Ah nothing…’

‘No it’s not,’ she says softly, ‘come on…’

‘I er,’ he scratches the end of his nose, his face so bruised, swollen and sore. His nose still broken at a slight angle. His right eye glances to her and for once the hard glare is gone. ‘I er…had this dream.’

‘Dream? Last night?’

‘No like today…when I…’

‘Oh honey,’ she reaches out as the single tear spills from his eye. He stiffens, embarrassed at his own emotions. An instant transition and the composure is gained. The hardness of the man returns.

‘Simon, it’s okay,’ she urges, seeing him recoiling into himself.

‘I’m fine.’

‘Simon, what is it?’

‘Nothing. It’s nothing.’

She smiles sadly, seeing the chance is now gone. ‘There’s tough,’ she mutters, ‘then there’s Simon Blowers.’

‘Yeah,’ he says in that Blowers easy way of taking compliments.

‘I’m here if you need me.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Seriously. Wake me up…come find me…anytime.’

‘Yeah, yeah cheers, Marcy.’

She moves forward to kiss his forehead, giving him a hug regardless of whether he wants one or not. The emotions surge up and threaten to come out. He swallows them down with composure gained by that same will power that held the line for so long.

‘Howie would have been devastated if he lost you,’ she says, rising to her feet. ‘Come get me if you need me.’

‘Yeah, yeah I will. Thanks.’

Bear licks his face. Sensing the turmoil inside. Feeling his pain. He died today. His heart stopped. Everything else that happened was magical and wonderful but he still died today. His heart still stopped. He felt it. He felt that second when it happened. The sense of mortality. The awareness of being finite, of there being an end. She pushes into him. Unjudging, unquestioning, loyal and forever pack.

Was she real? He has to know. He will fight to the end if he knows. How can he know? Take a chance. Take the risk of looking like a dick. He rises and crosses to the van, slowing at the last few steps.

Reginald senses his approach and turns in his chair as Blowers appears at the back door. Reginald respects Blowers immensely. More than the man could ever know and like the dog he senses the turmoil bubbling under the surface.

‘Is it raining?’ Reginald asks lightly.

‘Raining? Er no, no it’s stopped,’ Blowers says, looking up.

‘That is good,’ Reginald says, standing from his chair. ‘I wish to have a walk. Will you come with me?’

‘Er yeah, yeah sure,’ Blowers says.

‘I think I am to have a guard,’ Reginald says in the way of a joke, ‘and there is none finer than Corporal Blowers eh?’

‘Okay,’ Blowers says, smiling his easy smile.

‘Good,’ Reginald says dropping from the van to look up at the sky then down to Blowers. ‘Come on, walk with me…tell me about this dream…’

Dear Reader,

Thank you for reading the latest book in The Undead Series. I really hope you have enjoyed it.

As ever, please do leave a review on Amazon. You can also find me on Facebook or drop me a line through my website – rrhaywood.com – I love getting reader feedback and although I can’t always reply I do read all of them.

There is also The Living Army Facebook group. They have regular competitions and quizzes on the books to win Undead goodies.

If you enjoy The Undead, you might also like
Hellspawn
by
Ricky Fleet
. Ricky is also an English self-published zombie writer and his work is getting some very good reviews. You can find it on Amazon.

Take care

RR Haywood