The Zombie Evolution (12 page)

9.

The zombies became a distant figure as we viewed them from the back of the car. Only getting this far from them and actually having a moment to stare back at them without the need to run in panic in the opposite direction permitted us the opportunity to comprehend just how many of them there were. It seemed like hundreds had made their way to become part of their clan, rather frighteningly suggesting that fresh meat was getting increasingly hard to come by, or at least in the suburbs anyway.

I was so happy that Phil had made it back; I had tried to plan how I’d tell Bri and any other surviving members of his family how I had let him go, how he had taken my plan, my risk, and burdened himself with it. But seeing him sitting in the back of the car, with Kate and Tina now moved into the boot, filled me with sincere relief and happiness, both because he had returned and also because I no longer had to have that conversation.

Phil seemed understandably shattered, panting exhaustingly for oxygen and now sporting a few scratches on his face and arms courtesy of running through the trees. There were no signs of zombie damage though, which was another relief as none of us would have been able to make the decisions we did back at the flat with Stacey, or face leaving him behind like we had to with my brother. If he had turned I don’t know what we would have done; I personally wouldn’t have been able to deal with it if the time came where one of our friends had to be killed instead of them kill us. It was an impossible thing to imagine and I prayed the time would never come where the unimaginable came into reality. We had left Lance, but for all I knew he was in that wave behind us. I was just happy I didn’t have to face him or now Phil in the undead counterpart’s form.

However, I did have blood on my hands, as did Jon, from the driver. I didn’t even know the guy’s name, yet had carjacked him and then slit his throat. Whether or not I meant to was completely irrelevant, the fact of the matter was that I had done it; I had pushed a knife against his neck to scare him and only moments later used the blade to cut through his skin. I’d intentionally used a sharp, threatening object to scare someone I had never met before, and when he did what I asked him to do I spilled his blood, and then did nothing to interject when he was thrown to the wave.

The girls were still in hysterics; I suddenly remembered that no-one knew why I had told Damian to fuck off and then heartlessly kicked him to his inevitable death. As it stood, they had seen me send Phil off with the zombies on what seemed like a suicide mission, disallow Damian his opportunity to live, then threaten and subsequently murder someone we didn’t even know. I looked dangerous and unstable even to Derek and to an extent Jon, let alone people that had only met me earlier that morning. Before anyone got the wrong idea and decided to take matters into their own hands by taking me or even all of us out, I turned to the group to hush their panicked cries of fear and curiosity by explaining exactly what happened.

The empathetic thoughts toward Damian subsided to the same ones Phil and I had in the forefront. Mark and Derek agreed that however savage his ultimate demise was, Damian deserved his dramatic conclusion, and although the others didn’t say those words, I could see in their expressions that they thought exactly the same thing, whether they admitted or not. We probably could have crammed everyone in the car, telling the group the whole story at a later time and deciding Damian’s fate as a team. The reality was I didn’t actually have to tell them at all – we (bar Phil at the time) would have all been safely in the car, so I could have just let the whole thing go, perhaps having a quiet word with him on the side line. Retrospectively, for me my decision was right. It was done out of hate, out of redemption, out of shear vengeance, but he had almost killed all of us and my thought process was that a sociopath like that wouldn’t think twice before doing the same thing again. I simply couldn’t have that risk around; I’d be judging every word or action he did, skeptically questioning his intentions and ultimately making clouded decisions that in turn could have been of detriment to both the group and me. The general consensus seemed to be that of agreement, and an acceptance that what happened to the driver was a complete accident helped no end. It was a guilt that would stay with me for the rest of my days, as I imagined it was with Jon too. Plus with the loss of Damian there was no way to find out who he was or who his family were to let them know what had happened. This was tragedy in the first instance and that sunken feeling in my chest of the most sincere levels of guilt was undoubtedly going to remain as a permanent fixture.

We all took a moment to thank Phil for what he did. I have no idea how he managed to escape their deathly jaws, but he did, and did so unscathed. He had little story to tell, just that he ran and ignored any messages from his body that he could run no more. ‘It was either run or be eaten’ he told us, an ultimatum that needed little deliberation if it could be that black and white. I also took a moment to calmly tell everyone that I had heard Damian say the driver knew of a helicopter, yet the hope of finding that was completely impossible now both parties had departed. I had expected more slander and abuse for this, but the group accepted it as they had accepted everything else, scheduling a plan to head to the coast where we had seen the army shipping people out instead.

Portsmouth was the place we had seen the coverage, and was coincidentally and providentially the closest coast for us to get to. Mark made a sensible choice to avoid the inevitable congestion of deserted cars on the M3 motorway, so we took back and country roads in attempt to reach our final destination. The first two or three road dwelling zombies had scared the shit out of us, however Mark very soon made a game on this, aiming to hit them with the car and propel them as far as he could. His anger matched his excitement with every bowled over zombie, sometimes seeming a little too happy every time he mowed one down. He bellowed a demonic laugh that at first seemed funny but very quickly become very uncomfortable indeed. Still wearing his ridiculous attire, I had somehow forgotten that he had saved our lives only earlier that day, which seemed an eternity ago now. All I could remember at this point was how much of a fucking dick I thought he was, disgustedly surveying his hoots of joy every 10 minutes or so we he ran down yet another undead road walker.

No-one had spoken for a while, perhaps half an hour or so as we trundled across the derelict country lanes. We all peered longingly out the window across the golden fields of Hampshire. The wind gently caressed the tips of the crops as the danced in unison across the plains, bouncing off beams of sunlight as the rays shone down from the blue sky souring above us. There was a definitive calmness disguising the anxiety of what next awaited us, whatever fates sat however many miles ahead on our journey.

Trying the radio was purposeless as the stations were all out, and the car wasn’t new enough to have DAB radio so we remained with only the outside wind and turning over of the engine to keep us audibly stimulated. I guess everyone was taking a moment to reflect on what had happened, maybe who they had lost or who they were hoping to find; Although I knew Mark, I didn’t know who his family or partner or friends were, and knew nothing about Kate and Tina. Everyone seemed deep in thought, pondering their battles in both victory and defeat. We were all here, sure, but we had all seen people fall victim to this invasion, to this plague, who if things had gone differently we may had been able to save, and that mind set was in no way an easy one to shake. I thought back to Stacey and Carl whom I hoped had found each other in whatever afterlife they believed in. I imagined them smiling, holding one another in their original forms, no longer beleaguered with the terror and torment they were subjected to before their ultimate demise. As I smiled to myself with that thought of bittersweet retribution, a voice broke the still air;

“The helicopter could have been close, you know”

The communal daze was fragmented, everyone slightly startled to be snapped back into reality. I turned to see Kate had averted her gaze from the vast outdoors to look directly up at me.

“What?”

I countered.

“The helicopter you mentioned, it could have been really close. We had a plan; to go into the barracks. The helicopter could have been in there, and we’d be safe now”

“That’s true”

I accepted. Her point was correctly stated yet completely dead rung.

Somewhat perplexed, I turned back and met Mark’s similar expression. We both shrugged and reverted to looking out of the front again. A few seconds passed, before;

“But you ruined that opportunity”

Once again I turned back to meet a now more stern gawk from Kate from the confinements of the car boot. I was so focussed on the thoughts of other people, both past and future, that I hadn’t complicated anyone could be more fixated on what was happening this second, including why we were here. Clearly Kate had spent her quiet time focussing on the latter and subsequently worked her brain to such a frenzy she deemed it necessary for some vocal closure.

“Hang on…”

Attempted Jon. Yet my raised hand requested he allow Kate to finish.

“That’s also true I guess”

Again, showing my agreement to her now unavoidably addressable confrontation.

“You fucked us. We could be away from here now. You really fucked us killing that driver, by deciding what choices were to be made on your own. Who the fuck are you to decide? You’re not God! You’re not in charge! You’re a crippled, homicidal fuck who may have cost us our lives!”

I was utterly dumbfounded. Completely unprepared for an outburst like this, I struggled to hold my jaw steady in order to respond. Had I really fucked everyone? I mean, the driver’s death was an accident, and although Jon was involved, the wound he caused could have been addressed and the driver could have survived. He wouldn’t be in good shape, nor would he be particularly happen I’d imagine, but he could have survived. And Jon had only threatened him to back me up; I was the instigator, he had two blades in him because of me. Maybe we could have made a better plan if I had spoken to everyone, maybe not, it was impossible to know. But what I did know is her accusation wasn’t entirely untrue, making it a very hard one to both swallow and argue with.

Everyone in the car seemed similarly taken aback, no-one knowing quite where to look or how to react. Kate wanted something though, she was far from happy to let this slide without some kind of response, without some kind of explanation as to how I let it get this far. My eyes darted around aimlessly as my mind raced to think of a way of justifying my actions, to pardon my decisions to exclude everyone in our plans and to take the lives of Damian, the driver, and even possibly Phil in my own hands.

Looking up I could see that Jon and Derek were also now curious why they weren’t involved too, why I felt like I could just risk Phil’s life without speaking to them. I knew it was because neither Phil or I wanted them to attempt to take his place, but that wasn’t my choice either. I was hurt, feeling tears pushing their way from my tear ducts to the front of my eyes, yet something popped into my head which blocked the tears from escaping me and pushed them back down. The thing that popped into my head, was anger.

“You know what Kate, fuck you”

I don’t think anyone expected that. I think they had anticipated a more so heartfelt tearful apology showing my penitence before breaking down to a weak, pathetic shell. That’s what Kate wanted, I could tell, she wanted to belittle me, she wanted reparation for not being comprised and consequently inadvertently forced back in the hierarchy. Now it was her turn to look shocked whilst fighting for a response. I wasn’t prepared to wait for hers though.

“Do you know where you would be if I hadn’t stepped in? Well if you’re too thick to know then I’ll tell you; In the stomachs of several different zombies, that’s where. No one else was awake so no one else had the desire to find out who Damian was talking to. I fucking did”

Kate made a vain attempt to counter argue but only a small sound escaped her lips before I continued.

“You had no idea what was going on. No one did. I saved you from being set up and being torn apart. Do you know what it’s like to be torn apart whilst being eaten, Kate? I don’t. And once more I don’t ever want to find out, nor do I want you, or Tina, or Mark, or my three comrades to find out either. That’s why a plan was made and that’s why the fuck you’re a-fucking-live now you ungrateful fuck. Phil requested the opportunity to be a hero, which I respected and he now is. And I got rid of Damian because he tried to get rid of all of you – you might be willing to risk your friends’ lives but I’m sure as Hell not, so as far as I’m concerned he got what he deserved and is in Hell where he belongs. You want an explanation? Fuck you, you ungrateful bitch. There’s your fucking explanation”

I slumped back into my seat, folding my arms like a petulant child and pouting my lips whilst scowling at the inanimate crops outside. My eruption may had been foolish, perhaps even embarrassing under any normal circumstance. Yet this wasn’t any normal circumstance; this was a zombie apocalypse and I’d be dammed if I was taking any shit from some mouthy bitch who I had just met. I wasn’t in the mood to be to be put on the stands and have her finger pointed at me, and although there were better, calmer, more sensitive ways I could have dealt with the whole situation, I felt my fury to be just.