The Undead. The First Seven Days (63 page)

Dave kicks him hard in the face, forcing Mark onto his back.

Then, Dave leans down and drags Mark by his hair, over to the edge of the roof and pulls him onto the top of the low wall. Mark waves his arms desperately and screams loudly as Dave pushes him closer to the edge, forcing his upper body over the lip.
  ‘IF YOU TOUCH HIM, I WILL COME FOR YOU AND I WILL KILL YOU,’ Dave bellows into his face, as he pushes the end of the pistol into his mouth. ‘DO YOU UNDERSTAND?’
  Mark squirms and thrashes about, until Dave pistol whips him across the face and Mark’s nose explodes in a shower of blood.
  ‘DO YOU UNDERSTAND?’ Dave shouts again.
  ‘Yes, yes, I promise,’ Mark wails.

Dave pulls him up and then shoves him hard, back towards the group. Mark staggers and puts his head down as he gains his posture, then looks up and realises that most of the people are staring at Dave.

Mark passes the old man and gives him a very quick, hard stare.
  ‘I saw that,’ Blowers shouts and starts towards Mark.
  ‘Wait, what did you see?’ Howie asks.
  ‘He gave the old chap a look,’ Blowers stops and stares hard at Mark.
  ‘A look? What are you on about? I was just watching where I was going,’ Marks protests.
Howie shakes his head staring hard at Mark.
  ‘No mate,’ Howie says softly. ‘I think we all know what will happen if we leave you with this group - you’re a bully and a coward.’

Silence descends on the group as they all watch Mark. Even the other woman dressed in a business suit - and clearly with Mark - just stares at him and slowly shakes her head.
  ‘I think Mark will be staying behind, seeing as he likes this place so much.’ Howie says, clearly for them all to hear.
  ‘You can’t do that,’ Marks shouts in alarm.

‘Watch me. Blowers, you’re on him, I’ll leave it to your discretion if he causes any problems.’
  ‘Yes, Sir, with pleasure,’ Blowers says and steps very close to Mark, staring hard into his eyes and nodding just once, with a nasty smile.
  ‘No… just wait…’ Marks starts to plead and Blowers slaps him across the face with an open hand.

Mark puts his hand to his face and stares back in alarm.
  ‘No, just hang on…’ Blowers strikes him again, harder.

‘They’ll just get harder, mate,’ Blowers says. ‘Please keep going - I want to hit you,’ Blowers smiles at him sweetly and Mark backs away and looks to the rest of the group.

They all look away and start preparing to leave.
  ‘But… hey.’

Blowers slaps him again.

‘Just fucking stop that!’ Mark shouts and Blowers punches him with a clenched fist.

‘Okay mate, that any better?’ Blowers asks as Mark drops down to the ground.

The group busy themselves and slowly make their way down the ladder and out to the car park. Cookey and Nick Hewitt join Blowers watching Mark, all of them standing expressionless over the prone figure in the business suit.
  ‘So… what business are you in?’ Cookey asks, after several long and uncomfortable minutes.
  ‘What?’ Mark stammers.
  ‘What business are you in?’ Cookey repeats.
  ‘Banking,’ Mark replies.
  ‘Ah… what kind of banking?’ Cookey says.
  ‘What?’ Mark rubs his sore face, not taking in what is being said to him.
  ‘I said, what kind of banking?’ Cookey asks again.
  ‘Why? Do you know about banking?’ Mark says. ‘I’m in hedge funds, actually,’ he states.
  ‘Hedge funds? What the fuck are they?’ Asks Hewitt.
  ‘I’ve heard about them, aren’t they the things that helped fuck the country up and put us into recession,’ Blowers says.
  ‘Oh… don’t give me that one,’ Mark sighs.
  ‘Give you what one?’ Cookey asks.
  ‘What does he want?’ Hewitt says.
  ‘He said he wanted something,’ Blowers adds.
  ‘What did he say he wanted?’ Cookey says.
  ‘Some cock, I think - I’m sure he asked for some cock,’ Hewitt says, deadpan.
  ‘Ah… is it some cock you’re wanting, is it?’ Blowers says.
  ‘W... what?’ Mark looks to them.
  ‘Don’t be ashamed, mate. Cookey here likes cock too,’ Blowers says, indicating Cookey.

Mark glances across at Cookey, but from his seated position he has to look up.
  ‘Oi you fucking pervert, stop looking at my crutch - you ain’t having my cock mate, I’m not that kind of bloke,’ Cookey says, in mock indignation.
  ‘Well… you are really,’ Blowers says and winks to Cookey, discretely.
  ‘Well, sometimes I guess - and he is wearing a very smart suit,’ Cookey looks Mark up and down. suggestively.
  ‘What?’ Mark says.
  ‘Nick, I think maybe we need to give Cookey and Mark some alone time - if you know what I mean,’ Blowers says across to Nick Hewitt.
  ‘Oh right, well if you’re sure Cookey,’ Hewitt says, seriously.
  ‘Yes. Mate - I am very serious, but, to be honest lads, he looks like a wriggler to me, you might have to hold him down for me. Are you a wriggler, Mark?’
  ‘A what?’ Mark says, in fear.
  ‘A wriggler mate, will I have to get them to hold you down or will you just bend over for me?’ Cookey says, fighting hard to keep his face straight.
  Mark looks from face to face, missing Cookey trying not to laugh.
  ‘Bend over then and drop ‘em down,’ Blowers says.
  ‘Fucking what?’ Mark says.
  ‘He says
what
a lot,’ Nick says.
  ‘He does, doesn’t he - don’t keep saying
what
Mark,’ Blowers says.
  ‘What?’ Mark says.
  ‘He did it again,’ Nick says.
  We don’t have much time Mark, now be a good hedge fund banker and roll over and drop your pants, and don’t say
what
again or I might have to shoot you,’ Cookey says, lifting the end of his rifle up to wave it a few inches away from Marks face.

Mark freezes and Cookey waves the rifle, indicating for Mark to move. Mark slowly rolls over and gets onto his hands and knees.
  ‘Well done mate, now drop the pants,’ Blowers says.
  ‘Please, please don’t do this,’ Mark begs.
  ‘Now now, shush, just drop your pants down,’ Nick says.
  ‘Please, please don’t, please don’t,’ Mark begs, as he starts scrabbling at his belt, tears streaming down his face.
  ‘Bloody hell, he’s a bit eager isn’t he?’ Blowers says in surprise.
  ‘He is, he must love cock,’ Cookey joins in.
  ‘Do you know mate, I’ve never actually tried it and they say don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,’ Blowers says, winking at Nick behind Marks back.
  ‘Actually lads, I’ve always kind of fancied having a go myself, would you mind if I jumped in too,’ Nick asks.
  ‘No mate, I’m sure Mark won’t mind - will you Mark?’ Cookey asks.
  ‘Please stop, please just don’t do this…’ Mark cries, his voice cracking with fear.
  ‘Come on mate, get them trousers off  - we haven’t got all day,’ Blowers says and Mark slowly pulls them off one foot at a time - until he is bent over in his shirt, jacket, shoes and socks with the little straps on his legs holding the socks up - begging and crying as he does so.
  ‘Now, best close your eyes mate, this might hurt a little,’ Cookey says, as he unzips the front of his trousers slowly and loudly.

Mark squeezes his eyes tightly closed.
  Nick, Cookey and Blowers slowly back away towards the ladder, Cookey taking Mark’s trousers with him. They quietly climb down the ladder and run out of the front of the building, almost bent over with laughter as they go.

‘This is for you,’ Howie says, as he hands a pistol and ammunition to the old man.
  ‘Thank you - are you sure?’ the old man asks.
  ‘Yes, you will probably need it, there’s plenty of people like Mark about,’ Howie responds as the old man takes the gun.

They both turn and watch as Nick, Cookey and Blowers run past them, laughing hard.
  ‘What are you laughing at?’ Howie calls out.
  ‘Nothing, Sir,’ Cookey says, as he reaches the back of the Saxon and bends over laughing hard next to Blowers and Nick.
  ‘Right, we’ve got to be off - it was nice meeting you. Hopefully we’ll see you at the Forts,’ Howie says as he shakes hands with the old man.
  ‘Fuck me, look at that one, he’s a bit late for the party,’ Darren Smith shouts and they look over to see an undead slowly emerging from the access road into the car park, his slow and awkward shuffle bringing each step down heavily. ‘I’ll sort him out,’ Darren shouts and starts jogging towards him with his knife drawn.
  ‘Jamie, see if you can drop him, before Darren gets there - it’ll wind him right up,’ McKinney urges, as Jamie quickly pulls the sniper rifle out of the bag and raises it up to peer down the sights.
  ‘Wait until he’s just a few feet away, make him run all the way there,’ Cookey says.
  Jamie lines up the sight and waits for Darren to get within a few feet and squeezes the trigger, just as Darren starts to lift his knife up.

The zombie is blown backwards, away from Darren, who stops suddenly and turns back to the group, then sticks his middle finger up. The lads all cheer and start laughing, as Darren starts walking back to them.

Eventually, the people from
Burger King
are in the cars they arrived in, loaded up with supplies, sourced with help by Tucker - and they move out in a small convoy - leaving Howie, Dave and the recruits standing round the Saxon.
  ‘So what was so funny when you came out?’ Howie asks again, then stares puzzled, as all three of them double over again with fresh laughter.

Howie looks to Dave who is staring towards the entrance to the services. More of the recruits look over and burst out laughing.

Howie turns to see Mark standing, looking lost and dejected in the entrance, in his suit jacket, shirt and tie, socks and shoes.
  ‘Where the bloody hell did his trousers go?’ Howie asks, as he starts to smile at the ridiculous sight.
  ‘Don’t know,’ Nick grips his sides, aching from laughing.
  ‘Right, well let’s get off, before this gets any weirder,’ Howie chuckles, as he climbs into the back of the Saxon and inches over into the front driver’s seat.
  ‘Bye Mark!’ Cookey shouts, in his best camp voice.

Nick blows Mark a kiss as they get into the Saxon and slam the doors closed to a fresh outburst of laughing.
  Mark stares at his trousers trapped in the back of the door and watches as the Saxon slowly pulls away.

Extract from Howie’s Journal:
 

As Darren jogged towards the zombie, the infection watched him coming.

This undead is almost finished and has been going all night as the infection fights to keep the body working. One left in this area and it knows it doesn’t stand a chance, but it sends it anyway.
  Darren nears the body and starts to lift the knife, just as Jamie Reese squeezes the trigger of the sniper rifle and the bullet parts the air before it, as it flies and strikes the zombie in the forehead.

The zombie was just baring his teeth and a fresh surge of saliva was pumping into his mouth and spilling down his front.

The bullet strikes and pulls the zombie clean off its feet, as the head is thrown backwards. The saliva sprays out with the force of the movement and one tiny drop - invisible to the eye - sprays up high into the air and spins towards Darren; landing on his bottom lip.

The drop is so tiny that Darren doesn’t even feel it - but instead he stops quickly, shocked at the sudden action of the zombie being thrown back.
  Darren turns and sticks his finger up at the laughing lads and starts walking back towards them, he can’t help smiling as he walks and admits to himself that he would have done the same thing.

One simple action seals his fate as he licks his dry lips and thinks of having a cool drink in the back of the Saxon.

The infection is within that tiny drop of saliva; it is within every cell of every undead host it possesses. The infection feels the loss of the zombie as it is blown away, but it also feels the relief as the tiny drop rises high into the air and lands on the soft lips of Darren’s mouth. Then the tongue comes out and draws the infection back into the mouth. The infection does what it
was bred, designed and cultured to do. It multiplies by its own number again and again and forces those infected particles into the body. The saliva is drawn into the tongue, which absorbs down through the thick muscle and slowly pushes through into the blood vessels. Within minutes, the infection has passed into the blood stream and is free. It is free to forge a path throughout this body and starts to attack the systems, just as it has done with every host body so far.

But then, the infection stops before it starts to kill Darren and it uses something the hosts use.
  The hosts have memories and they can think back to something that happened before. The infection realises that it was one of the resistors that came for it just then, and, as the host body dropped, the infection found itself in the body of the resistor.

It can attack this host and take it over within minutes, the infection can stop the heart and infect every cell within this host and make it turn.