The Undead. The First Seven Days (85 page)

They stride down the left flank of the convoy, pausing as Malcolm jumps out from the front vehicle to meet them.
  ‘What’s up?’ Chris asks him.
  ‘I don’t know, we were getting constant flashes from behind,’ Malcolm replies.
  They walk to the next vehicle and shout up to the driver. He leans out of the open window with a cigarette hanging out his mouth.
  ‘Everything all right?’ Howie calls up.
  ‘We’re fine, we were getting flashed from behind, so I passed it on.’
  They walk to the next vehicle to find Tucker climbing down from the passenger door and stretching out.
  ‘That looked a bit nasty back there, Mr Howie,’ Tucker says.
  ‘It was mate, was it you flashing?’
  ‘Nope, came from behind,’ Tucker replies.
  They walk down the fleet of vehicles, with each driver giving the same response.
 
With only a few vehicles left in the fleet Howie looks back to see the driver of the last vehicle running towards them, waving his arms in the air.
  ‘That’s Sarah’s, vehicle,’ Howie yells, as he starts running forward; Big Chris and Dave sprinting beside him.
  ‘They were screaming and banging, I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t want to get left behind,’ the driver sobs as they run past him.

Howie twists round the back of the van and wrenches the rear doors open to see Sarah standing, facing him, covered in blood. A small knife is held tightly in her right hand, her left hand grips the fingers of a small girl who is also holding hands with a large-built woman. The three of them drip with blood and gore.
  ‘Sarah! What the fuck?’ Howie stammers, as he jolts forward, picking the girl up to pass back to Chris.
  As Sarah and Mary step down, Howie’s mouth drops open as he looks at the utter scene of carnage in the back of the van. Dead bodies strewn and piled up, thick pools of blood shimmering on the floor and smeared up the sides, dead human eyes, dead zombie eyes and dead mouths hanging open.
  ‘What happened? Howie says to the women.
  ‘One of them turned and it just sort of exploded from there,’ Sarah replies calmly. ‘This is Mary – Mary, this is my brother, Howie.’
  Howie stands speechless as Mary calmly says
hello
.

Dave then steps forward to peer into the back of the van. He gazes at Mary and Sarah, then down at the small knife, then finally back to the bodies.

He looks at Howie and nods, clearly impressed at the work completed.
  ‘Who is the girl?’ Howie eventually asks, when his brain catches up with the sight before him.
  ‘Patricia, she lost her mum,’ Sarah replies, still in the calm voice.

Mary steps forward to take the child from Chris, who is also standing with his mouth hanging open.
  ‘We’ll come with you,’ Sarah says, flatly.
  ‘We don’t have a lot of room…’ Chris starts to say.
  ‘She said we’re coming with you,’ Mary glares at Chris.
  ‘Yeah, fine, no problem,’ Chris replies quickly, holding his hands up.

The vehicles move off again, the Saxon in the lead, with Sarah and Mary sitting in the hastily vacated seats, using wet wipes to clean themselves and Patricia of the blood and filth.

Hardened and battle experienced men watch them with keen interest. They work with purpose, chatting to the small child, as though nothing had happened.

Chris had got to the vehicle ahead of them and quickly whispered what they had seen before the women arrived. Clarence had moved quickly to Sarah, on seeing the state she was in, asking her again and again if she was okay.
  ‘You can have your knife back now,’ she offered, as the huge man fussed round her.
  ‘No, you keep it, in fact…’ Clarence said, as he unbuckled his belt and removed one of the large sheath knives from it, before handing it to Sarah. ‘You’d better have a bigger one.’
  ‘How does it go on,’ Sarah said, taking the big knife and pulling it from the sheath to admire the weapon.
  ‘Here, let me,’ Clarence said, as he unbuckled Sarah’s belt and pulled it free from the loops, then, suddenly realising what he was doing, he looked down to see her smiling at him.
  ‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to…’ He blushed bright red, to Sarah’s delight.

‘What didn’t you mean to do?’ She asked, mischievously.
  ‘Err... undo your belt,’ he stammered.
  ‘But you did undo my belt,’ She replied.
  ‘Yeah but, you know...’
  ‘I know what?’
  ‘I…err, well, didn’t mean it like that.’
  ‘Like what?’ She asked innocently and laughed, as he went even redder.
  ‘I’m only joking, thank you for the knife,’ she said, touching him on his massive forearm as his face split apart with a huge grin.
  Howie had taken over the driving, seeing Curtis looking tired and drawn and suggesting he get some rest in the back.
  ‘Did you see those bodies?’ Howie asked Dave, as they continued driving.
  ‘Yes, Mr Howie, I was there,’ Dave replies.
  ‘Oh, not this again, I meant…  did you see how many there were?’
  ‘Yes. I was there.’
  ‘Do you do this on purpose?’
  ‘Do what?’
  ‘Answer each question literally.’
  ‘How do I answer that?’
  ‘What?’
  ‘You asked me if I answer each question literally, so in order to give you an answer, I would have to be literal - which would then suggest that I do, in fact, answer each question literally.’
  ‘You never cease to amaze me, Dave.’
  ‘Thanks, Mr Howie.’
 

The crowded Saxon settles into near silence as they travel towards the coast. The exhausted survivors try to sleep in whatever space they can find.

Patricia dozes fitfully, snuggled into Mary in one rear corner while Sarah rests in the other.

The others find space where they can, Clarence and Chris both remain standing near the front, leaning in towards Howie and Dave and chatting in muted tones.
  ‘Have you seen any yet?’ Chris asks.
  ‘Nope, not one, fuck knows where they’ve all gone,’ Howie replies.
  ‘Can’t be a good thing,’ Chris says.
  ‘Darren knew all along we would be heading for the Forts, but I don’t think I ever said which one,’ Howie says.
  ‘So there’s no doubt they’re going to be coming for us then,’ Chris says.
  ‘He’ll come - it just depends how long it takes him, and we haven’t seen any for a long time, so I reckon they’re massing again,’ Howie says.
  ‘Or waiting for him to pass through, so they can join in,’ Chris says.
  ‘Jesus, there’ll be thousands of them if he collects them all on the way,’ says Clarence.
  ‘More than that,’ Chris says.
  ‘I was wondering if he would try to use vehicles, he’s obviously got control over the rest of them somehow…’ Howie says.

‘Yeah and if he can tap into their memories and knowledge, then it wouldn’t be hard to get the keys for the vehicles and move down here quickly,’ Chris interrupts.
  ‘He’ll come on foot,’ Dave says, in his normal flat tone.
  ‘How do you know?’ Howie asks.
  ‘They’ve been going for a week now with no sign of slowing down. They’re decaying, but still moving. I haven’t seen any of them eat or drink, so they don’t need sustenance, which also means time is not relevant to them. He held them outside the commune until he thought there were sufficient numbers but he held himself back away from harm - which shows he has awareness for his own safety. They also massed in Canary Wharf when we went for your sister, so the biggest single tactic deployed by them is high numbers. Logistics for any army on the move is difficult at the best of times, and will be even harder using vehicles…’
  ‘Not if they have collective intelligence,’ Howie cuts in. ‘And it does look like they have. Darren snapped his fingers and they all started laughing, then he made them take a step forward perfectly in time. With that kind of power and control they could find it easy.’
  ‘I don’t think they will,’ Dave replies. ‘That would mean having every one of them have access to a vehicle and be ready in the right place at the right time to slip in with the main fleet. Even if they share intelligence, that is an extremely hard thing to organise. A forced march is the best way for them to pick them up as they go.’
  ‘So, if they have a collective intelligence or consciousness, then they would know the route they are taking and would just have to wait at those points,’ Chris says.
  ‘Yes,’ Dave responds.
  ‘So why not get vehicles and wait at those points?’ Howie asks.
  ‘Their motor skills have got better, but, during the day they shuffle, and become slow and are not able to control their own bodies that well. We saw them increase speed during the day, but that made them weaker. Darren will have no choice but to keep them moving at a set pace that can cover ground but will conserve energy to prevent them weakening,’ Dave explains clearly.

‘Okay, so how long will it take to walk that distance?’ Howie asks.
  ‘They can go as the crow flies, in a straight line, so that would be about 50 miles or so,’ Clarence says.
  ‘If they shuffle along, like they do during the day, then a couple of days at least, if they move fast the entire time - it could be as little as 16 to 20 hours - but we know that weakens them. But if they have enough… err… people, I guess, then they might not worry about being weaker,’ says Chris.
  ‘People!’ Howie laughs.
  ‘Yeah, I know, I don’t like the other word though,’ Chris replies.
  ‘What? Zombies?’ Howie asks.
  ‘Yeah, it seems like a movie or something when I use that word,’ laughs Chris.
  ‘What do you think, Dave?’ Howie asks.
  ‘About the word zombies? It doesn’t bother me.’
  ‘No,’ Howie laughs again. ‘About the speed they’ll move at.’
  ‘Oh, sorry. I don’t think time is an issue for them, so they will do what all big organisations do.’
  ‘Which is?’ Clarence asks, after a lengthy pause.
  ‘They will work out the best speed to make the best distance using the least amount of fuel, like airlines do, or shipping companies,’ Dave replies.
  ‘Sounds ridiculous when you say it like that,’ Howie says. ‘But I guess that’s about right though.’
  ‘Well, we have no answer to the question then, we don’t know when they’ll turn up,’ says Chris.
  ‘In short, nope,’ Howie replies.
  ‘Brilliant, we have a huge army of dead people marching through the country specifically looking for us and we’re heading for a 150 year old Fort, somewhere on the coast, with a handful of men able to fight… I like those odds,’ Chris laughs.
  ‘Stuff ‘em,’ Clarence says, in his deep voice.
  ‘Stuff ‘em? What kind of an insult is that?’ Chris laughs, looking at the huge man mountain.
  ‘Well there are ladies and a child present and I didn’t want to be a potty mouth,’ the deep voice rumbles, as the rest burst out laughing.
  ‘Potty mouth!? That’s even worse,’ Howie says laughing, ‘I just watched you take four of them down with your bare hands…’
  ‘Yeah, well, there’s no need for foul language in the presence of ladies,’ Clarence replies, defensively.
  ‘I think your sister has an admirer, Howie,’ Chris says, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.
  ‘No, just hang on,’ Clarence tries to interrupt, going red in the face.
  ‘Oh really, you fancy my sister do you?’ Howie asks, pretending to be offended.
  ‘No one said anything about me fancying your sister, Mr Howie,’ Clarence says.
  ‘Oh, he’s Mr Howie now, is he? Trying to win him over are you?’ Chris laughs again, as Howie bends forward, trying to stop laughing so loud.
  ‘No, he is Mr Howie, everyone calls him that,’ Clarence says, in a more defensive tone.
  ‘So… you don’t fancy Sarah, then?’ Chris asks, unable to stop goading him.
  ‘No, of course I don’t,’ Chris replies, going even redder.
  ‘Where’s your knife then?’ Chris asks, innocently.
  ‘My what?’ Clarence replies, his voice going higher, as Howie starts to laugh harder.
  ‘Your knife, I gave you that knife years ago, after you broke that cheap thing you had.’
  ‘Well… err… well she only had that little knife.’
  ‘That little knife that you gave her, and now you’ve given her your big knife, what’s next? The axe?’ Chris says, between laughing.
  ‘Oh, just fuck off,’ Clarence finally snaps, his voice louder.
  ‘Language please, there’s a child back here, keep that potty mouth for later,’ Mary calls out, as Howie and Chris burst out laughing even more, even Dave chuckles, as Clarence drops his head into his hands, groaning.
  ‘What’s so funny?’ Sarah asks, clambering over the legs of sleeping forms to get to the front.
  ‘We were just talking about Clarence,’ Chris replies, still chuckling.
  ‘Oh, what about?’ Sarah asks, stretching.
  ‘Chris…’ Clarence growls his face bright red and tries to turn away from Sarah.
  ‘Just about the knife he gave you,’ Howie cuts in, tears streaming down his face.
  ‘Oh, that was sweet, thank you again, Clarence. You’ll have to show me how to use it though, it’s very big,’ Sarah replies, smiling at him. ‘Howie, are you all right?’ Sarah asks, as Howie’s body heaves with laughing, bent forward enough to be almost biting the steering wheel.
  ‘Fine, I’m fine,’ Howie whimpers.
  ‘Clarence was just saying how he wants to show you some moves,’ Chris says, innocently.
  ‘That’s great, thank you, Clarence,’ Sarah says, placing her hand on his shoulder.
  ‘It’s no problem,’ Clarence replies.
  ‘Are you okay? Your face is very red,’ Sarah says with concern. ‘Are you coming down with something,’ She presses the back of her hand to his forehead.
  ‘No, no, I’m just very hot in here,’ Clarence replies, very softly.
  ‘Okay, well I’ll leave you boys to it and try to get some more rest,’ Sarah says, as she clambers back down the Saxon.
  ‘Okay, we’ll be quieter now, Sarah,’ Chris smiles, as she goes then looks down at Clarence bent over resting his head on the back of the seat, his face now beetroot coloured, but his forehead tingling from where she touched him.
  ‘Poor Clarence, are you okay?’ Chris says, in a sweet voice, and puts his hand on Clarence’s face.
  ‘Fuck off, you wanker,’ Clarence whispers.
  ‘Oh, poor Clarence, come here you big, teddy bear and give me a cuddly wuddly,’ Chris laughs, as he tries to wrap his arms round Clarence’s huge shoulders.
  ‘I said fuck off, Chris,’ Clarence whispers, as he starts laughing, trying to squirm out of the manly embrace.
  ‘So, how do you feel, Howie, about Clarence showing your sister some moves with the knife?’ Chris asks.
  ‘Me? I’m fine with it mate, you carry on,’ Howie replies, still chuckling.
  ‘Really?’ Clarence looks over at him, as Chris laughs again. ‘You don’t mind, then?’
  ‘No mate, but Dave’s the one with the knife skills, maybe he should do it,’ Howie says. ‘What do you think, Dave?’
  ‘I think your sister would like Clarence to do it,’ Dave replies, showing a rare ability to pick up on a social situation.
  ‘Cheers, Dave,’ Clarence says, softly.