The Z Word (A Zombie Novel) (6 page)

Chapter Eighteen

As soon as I managed to get to the roof once more, I felt exhausted. My head span and I almost lost my footing again. Once I got to my own skylight, I chapped the glass and Clare opened the window.

"God, what happened to you?" was her first question. I was struggling to get in, and once I did, she looked me up and down and put her hand over her mouth. "Did you run into trouble?"

"Really?" I had no idea if at the time she was being serious, or whether she was making a joke.

Asked Clare, "Did you see Ben?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"Not good."

"Where is he?"

I looked down on my T-shirt and pointed. "Well, some of him is on my T-shirt."

"Oh my God!" she screamed out. "You killed him?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

I looked at Clare with a mixture of anger and confusion. Was she doing this on purpose? I answered sarcastically, "Because he was wearing a Manchester United shirt, so I let him have it."

"Really?"

"No, course not!" I shook my head at her. "Why do
you
think?"

"Erm..."

"Because he tried to rip out my throat." I sighed and rubbed my face, exasperated. "Jesus, you're not the sharpest tool in the box, are you? He's turned into one of them."

Clare gave me a sad look and I immediately regretted my harsh attack on her.

I said, "Anyway, how's the girl?"

"She's asleep in the back bedroom."

"You've put her into
my
bed?"

"That's okay, isn't it?"

I smiled, realising I was being a bit of a twat. "Yeah, of course."

"It must have been the shock." Clare began to nervously play with her brown hair. "She went weary all of a sudden. She was singing this song her brother used to tease her with."

"What song?"

"Just some made-up horror song about...zombies, or something."

"Okay," I said. "We'll leave her be and check on her later."

Clare could see I was physically shaking and asked, "Are
you
okay?"

"I've never been better, apart from the fact that I've just smashed in a thirteen-year-old's head."

"You're a sarcastic tosser, aren't you?"

I nodded and spoke honestly, "Always am when I'm shitting my kegs."

"So what now?"

I shrugged my shoulders. I had no idea. "We go downstairs and play Call of Duty on the Playstation."

Clare scowled at me, wondering if I was being serious or not.

"Seriously, though," I sighed. "I'm going to have a shower and put some fresh clothes on."

I went past Clare and got to the first floor. I went into my bedroom to see Abbie sleeping peacefully. I tried to make as little noise as possible as I went into my cupboard and began to search for clothes that I was going to wear after my shower.

I grabbed a black pair of jogging bottoms, a black T-shirt and a pair of my new white trainers, as well as a pair of white Donnay socks and a pair of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles boxer shirts—a Christmas present.

I stepped into the first floor bathroom, threw my fresh clothes onto the floor and shut the door behind me. As soon as I shut the door, I immediately heard a knock.

For fuck's sake!

I asked impatiently, "What is it?"

"You want a cup of tea?" said Clare.

"Not yet. I'm gonna have a shower first."

"Okay."

I began to strip to my bare arse, opened the shower door and heard another knock. "Yes?"

"I just wanted to tell you..." Clare allowed her sentence to trail.

"What?"

"Thanks, for everything."

As soon as she said those words, I smiled to myself and any anger I had, soon dissipated. I turned on the shower and before getting in I took a look outside by opening the window slightly.

The street seemed quiet and I wondered how long that would last. I looked at the electric shower and the jet water that came out of it. How long was
this
going to last?

Once I got in, I felt the hot jets hit my body and it felt amazing. I reached for my T-Gel shampoo, as my dandruff was a bit of a problem, and squirted the brown liquid onto my hand and rubbed it into my scalp. As I stuck my head under the water to rinse off the soap from my hair, I broke down and must have cried for about ten minutes.

I was glad it happened, and felt better for it.

Chapter Nineteen

Twenty minutes after my shower, I was in the living room with the blinds open a little. I had been standing there for the last two minutes and everything had been reasonably quiet apart from the passing of three vehicles—escaping families, I presumed—and the sight of two zombies strolling past my window. Both were male and were of similar age and wore the same attire.

I assumed that, in human form, they used to be friends. It was hard to work out whether one was bit and had turned on their friend, or they had both been attacked by someone else.

I got a fright when I heard a voice ask, "See anything?"

"Christ! I nearly shat myself." I quickly turned around to see Clare standing in the doorway.

She giggled, "Sorry."

I looked back outside and said, "Nothing much out there. Although an ice cream van has pulled up, if you fancy a cone or something?"

Clare looked at me with a blank look. She then developed a smirk on her face, but I could see she was still unsure. "You're joking, right?"

"Yep." I spoke with a straight face. "Just joking."

I walked away to make a coffee and could see Clare taking a quick peep outside.

I heard her say from the living room, "I'm gonna put the news on, see if anything new is happening."

I took a look outside my kitchen, out onto the back garden, and was pleased that there was nothing in there and that the gate at the side of the house hadn't been tested yet. I knew that once it had, it would open with ease. It was just a small three foot gate with a gold plated hook that kept it reasonably secure.

I walked into the living room, holding two cups of coffees, and could see that the BBC channel had a black screen with bullet-points, warning people to stay safe, amongst other predictable things you'd see in a zombie movie.

Clare said, "SKY's still working...for now." She flicked it back onto the SKY channel. "But it's just the same old shit."

I asked Clare to turn the TV off or put it on mute, and switched on my radio that was a part of my CD player and iPod station. I messed with the controls for a while until I came across an English-speaking station and listened to it for any new information.

Chapter Twenty

Time passed ever so slowly, and after the TV going down, I was still able to get Facebook and Twitter on my phone, but there was very little activity as if people had stopped using it, or... I didn't want to think of the other reason, after all, some of these people were friends of mine and had children, unlike me.

Both Clare and I sat on my brown leather couch and stared at the massive TV, even though nothing was on. We were both clearly bored, but neither one of us had the cheek to mention it because we were alive, unlike some folk.

I looked at my watch. It was approaching 7pm, and although all the blinds and curtains were drawn in the house, it wasn't dark outside.

Like the night before, I kept the small lamp on in the living room; I didn't want to illuminate the whole house, but I thought that a little light shouldn't make too much difference, especially with my living room being at the back of the house. All the activity was taking place out to the main road at the other side.

I walked round the house, drenched in paranoia, and double-checked all the locks and peered out of the back windows to make sure there was no presence in the back garden. Although the entrance to the back garden had a small gate, I still felt that there should be nothing in there to entice them in anyway.

I then checked the front windows and saw the main road. It was reasonably quiet. There was now no one being eaten, no cars leaving the street, and no screaming. The whole street looked eerie and it made my vertebrae shudder.

I looked away and went to look in on Abbie.

I walked into my bedroom and she appeared to still be sleeping, although she did look a little pale. I put it down to the shock. I crept out of the bedroom and shut the door behind me. I then heard a rustle in the room, as if my presence had disturbed her, but I quickly tip-toed downstairs, hoping she would drop off and have another hour of sleep.

I returned to the living room and Clare smiled at me. She looked lovely.

"You okay?" I asked. I know it was a stupid question, but I asked it all the same.

"I think I might go for a shower, then wake Abbie up, otherwise she won't sleep tonight."

"I don't think sleeping on a night is that important now. Time doesn't matter."

"Be good to keep her in some kind of routine."

I shrugged my shoulders. I felt that Clare was going to be playing the adopted mummy role now that Abbie was with us and had lost her family.

I said, "If that's what you think, then fine."

Clare then reeled off something that took me by surprise. "
The zombies are coming, and they're surrounding your house. You will never hear them all the time. as they're quiet as a mouse. They're breaking through the windows. They're breaking down the door. The zombies are everywhere, they'll eat your brains and more
."

I begun to laugh and asked, "What the hell was that?"

"That song I mentioned before, it just came to me. Abbie kept on saying this...song...poem...I dunno, over and over while you were out. Her brother used to tease her with it for years."

"Kind of ironic now, don't you think?"

Clare ignored my remark and then asked, "When I come back down with her, shall we put a DVD on?"

"I suppose. The channels don't work any more, but as long as we have electricity I don't see why the DVD player won't work."

"I was thinking about a film for Abbie. Got any Disney films?"

"Not really." I stood up and opened my cupboard to see a small pile that I liked to watch now and again when I was really bored. I began ruffling through the small pile and reeled off, "I Spit on Your Grave, The Grudge, Amityville—"

"Seriously. Is that all you've got?" snickered Clare.

"I had a stack in the other room, but they're of the same genre."

"So you have no children's films at all? Not even Up or Finding Nemo?"

"Finding Nemo? Isn't that about a small fish whose mother and babies get brutally killed and is left disfigured himself. Then he eventually gets kidnapped and has to rely on his father to save him? Yep, that sounds wonderful. I'm sure Abbie would love that."

"Don't be smart."

"What was that?" I heard a bump coming from above me, and knew right away it was from my bedroom.

Clare said, "She's up then."

"Up? Sounds like she fell out of bed."

"I'll go and see her. She's probably woken up and doesn't realise where she is."

I nodded my head in agreement and decided to walk to the kitchen and get myself another coffee. I asked Clare if she wanted one, but she never answered me. I assumed that she never heard me.

As Clare went upstairs to check on Abbie, I flicked on the kettle. Whilst waiting, I peered out the closed blinds in the darkened kitchen and took another gander out the back garden. Still nothing.

"John!" I heard Clare cry from upstairs.

"What?" I yelled from the kitchen.

"You really need to see this."

I could tell by her voice that something was wrong, so I decided to jog upstairs.

To get to my bedroom, once at the top of the stairs, I needed to walk forward, turn left, then left again to reach my door. I only made one left and saw Clare standing in the hallway; her face was ashen and her body was quivering all over.

I asked, "What's wrong?"

Clare shook her head in disbelief. "She's...turned."

"What? What are you on about?"

Clare was staring through me and didn't know how to re-phrase what she had just told me, so she repeated it once again. "She's turned."

"But she wasn't bit."

Clare gave me a look and her facial expression translated into: Well
I
know that, and
you
know that. So what's going on?

"She must have received a scratch from her parents earlier on." I took a deep breath in and announced, "Let me have a look."

"Be careful," said Clare.

Chapter Twenty One

I placed three fingers of my right hand on my own bedroom door and gently pushed it ajar. I glared into the room to see Abbie with her back to me, shuffling very slowly away from my presence and towards the bedroom window as if she had no idea where she was.

I looked back at Clare who was standing behind me, a few yards away. She shrugged her shoulders as if she had no idea what to do next; she wasn't alone.

I cleared my throat, loud enough for Abbie to hear, and she slowly turned around and I could hear Clare gasp behind me, and released a short cry. No wonder.

I glared at little Abbie with horror.

From the neck down her appearance was the same. She wore her Moshi Monsters T-shirt and was still wearing her black leggings. From the neck up, however, was a different story altogether.

Her face was as pale as ivory, the eyes were dead with a milky film over her once blue eyes, and there was a blue colour to her appearance, especially to her lips.

She stumbled towards me and I immediately shut the door. I then grasped the handle of the door to make sure Abbie couldn't open it for herself. I then turned to Clare, almost teary-eyed, and said, "What the fuck do we do now?"

Clare had no answer to my panic-stricken question. Neither did I at first. Then I said it. "I'll stay here and hold the door. I want you to go downstairs, get the crowbar and shades."

"What for?"

"Please," I begged Clare. "No stupid questions just now."

I could see Clare's eyes roll in thought and she asked, "You're gonna kill her?"

"She's already dead. She's not a
she
anymore, she's an...
it
." I furrowed my brow in thought, wondering if that actually made sense. I then shook my head. "Just go."

Clare did what she was told and galloped down the stairs and returned within ten seconds, holding the crowbar in her right hand and the shades in her left, out of breath. I took them off her immediately, placed the shades on and held the crowbar.

So far so good.

But soon after that I lost my nerve.

I lowered my head, my hand still grasping the door handle of my bedroom, paranoid that Abbie was able to open it herself. My head remained in its position and Clare asked me, "You okay?"

"I've lost my nerve."

"But you killed her brother."

"I know. That's what I don't understand. I suppose I didn't have a choice in the matter, it was either him or me."

"We don't have a choice now," Clare cried.

"True." I sighed, knowing that another horrific death was going to be orchestrated and performed by yours truly.

I felt Clare's hand resting on my shoulder as an act of comfort. She sniffed, "That poor girl."

I nodded in agreement.

Clare was getting emotional and sobbed loudly. "I wonder how many like her have...turned? Poor Abbie."

"Too many...probably." I was unsure of the numbers, but certain that this situation wasn't unique. I puffed out my cheeks to relieve some stress and reduce the heat in my face, and told Clare that I was ready.

My body quivered with what I had to, and was about to, do. I had no lock on the outside of my bedroom door and even if I did, I didn't want one of those things in my house anyway.

She had to go.