The Zombie Saga (Book 3): Burn The Dead: Riot (10 page)

And a flick-knife.

“Don’t be a dick,” she replies, throwing me a pissed look. “You know what I mean.”

She’s right; I
am
being a dick, but I can’t help it. Normally, I’d be over the moon if a hot girl came and sat by me. But with everything that’s happened, social etiquette has lost all its meaning.

Natalie starts to get up. “You need some time by yourself. We’ll talk later, yeah?”

“No, wait,” I say, grabbing her wrist. “Don’t go. I’m sorry. My head’s just a little fucked right now.
Stay
.”

She ponders for a moment but then sits. “No need to apologise. You’ve just lost your friend. What was his name again?”

“Ginge.”

“I mean his
real
name.”

“Ian Mailing. But no one’s called him that for years.”

“I like nicknames,” she says with a smile. “So you and him were pretty close, yeah?”

I nod. “Yeah. Really close. He was the only one who bothered with me in school. And that’s handy when you’re the only black kid there. He was the one who got me into football. And, well, I suppose he was the one who’s put me off it—
for life
.”

“Don’t say that. You love football.”

I shake my head. “Not anymore I don’t.”

“How long have you been in foster care?”

“Since birth, pretty much. I was left outside the hospital when I was a baby.”

“Oh my God! I didn’t think people actually did that in real life. That must be a hard thing to deal with.”

I nod; my life as a foster kid flashing before my eyes. “It’s no big deal. It’s all I’ve ever known. And foster care has its advantages. You get to change schools a lot; you get your ass kicked by a drunken foster father—
oh
and you have to put up with annoying foster brothers like Harry.”

“Sounds pretty tough.”

“It is—but not all the time. Wendy is awesome. She’s the only one who treats me like a part of the family. She has to put up with a total wanker of a husband, and a houseful of little shits, but she’s always there for me, always willing to listen. I suppose she’s the closest thing to a real mother I’ve ever had.”

“She sounds nice.”

“Yeah, she is.” I see a vision of Wendy, from this morning, handing Ginge and me those bacon rolls. She always does stuff like that; always thinking ahead. And then my chest starts to tighten at the prospect of not seeing her again. “But all that’s gonna change soon. I’ll be eighteen in four months. No more foster care.”

“So what happens then?” Natalie asks.

“I’m out on my own.”

“Really? Just like that? Can’t they let you stay?”

“Yeah. But why would they? Wendy’s already got three other foster kids. She’s not exactly gonna want me sticking around. But I’ll be fine. The last thing I want is to be a burden.”

“Have you spoken to her about it?” Natalie asks. “Maybe she just assumes that you’ll be staying on.”

“No, but it’s obvious. That’s what always happens. Out with the old, in with the new.”

“Don’t be so cynical. If Wendy means that much to you, then you should talk to her. I’m sure she’s not planning on kicking you out on the street.”

“Maybe. But the plan was to crash in Ginge’s house until I managed to find somewhere to live.” Another image of Ginge, with his guts hanging out, invades my head. I almost gag. “But that ain’t happening now.”

Natalie puts her hand softly over mine and smiles tightly. “I’m sorry.”

Even after everything that’s happened, even after losing Ginge, and Nathan, I still don’t want to cry in front of her. But I have no choice. My chin starts to quiver, and I break down again, burying my head in my hands, trying to conceal the tears as they flood from my eyes. I feel her hand at the centre of my back, trying to comfort me. It doesn’t work.

I need to get out of this shoebox. Back to my little piss-stain of a foster brother, the annoying grump-sisters—and not forgetting the star of the show:
Fuck-Face Phil
, the world’s worst parent.

Natalie pulls me in for a hug, but I resist. It’s built into me; I can’t help it. I don’t even care if the others can hear me cry. Let them see my pussy tears.
I don’t give a shit!
At least I have someone to cry over.

I try to push Ginge to the darkest reaches of my mind; he can sit right next to my parents who never wanted me, and the teacher who called me a nigger. I don’t need those memories; they only hold me back.

So why can’t I stop these tears?

Man up, Alfie!

She starts to shush me like a baby. I want to tell her to stop, that it’s degrading—but for some reason I don’t.

“
No, Ted,
” I hear Adriana weep behind me. “
Don’t leave me. Not now. Please. Wake up.
”

My turmoil comes to a sudden halt, and I pull my hands away from my face, my vision fuzzy.

We’ve got bigger problems.

Ted is dead.

16

We surround the couple, watching in horror as Adriana pleads with her husband to wake up.

She’ll get her wish soon enough.

Jonny’s fists are clenched, priming to make his move. Adriana clearly isn’t ready to lose her husband. On her knees, her eyes are streaming, she takes him by the shoulders and shakes. Ted’s body is limp. She feels the side of his neck for a pulse. Doubt if she’s found one. She tries his bound wrist. The same.

“Please, Ted. Wake up,” Adriana weeps. “Come on. Don’t do this to me.
I need you.
”

I’ve never seen anyone turn before. That’s the kind of stuff they don’t show you in the documentaries. All they tend to show is the aftermath of an outbreak. We never get to see the human side. The government tries their best to downplay Necro-Morbus, to tell us that it’s all under control. And, up until today, it’s worked.

But never again.

“You need to step away from your husband,” Jonny says to Adriana, as if Ted was nothing more than a dangerous animal, about to be let off the leash.

“Go to hell!” she screams at him, her eyes broad with her rage. “You keep away from him! I’m warning you!”

“Look, I’m only telling you this for your own good,” Jonny replies. “He’ll kill you.”

Adriana moves her body directly in front of Ted, shielding him. “You’re not laying a
finger
on my husband!
Any of you!
”

Natalie kneels down, bringing her eyes level with Adriana’s. “As much as I can’t stand the guy, he’s right. It’s not safe for you to be so close. He’s infected. It’s only a matter of time before he turns.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass!” Adriana snaps. “You can all get the
hell out
if you don’t like it!” She points to the door. “This was
our
room.
We
let you in. And now we’re taking back the invitation.”

I join Natalie on the floor. “No one’s going to touch your husband,” I say. “There’s no need. All we’re asking is that you move away from him. That’s all, I promise.”

Adriana glares at us, one by one, clearly unconvinced. Her eyes lock onto Jonny’s. I don’t blame her; he’s the only one she should be concerned about.

Natalie holds out a hand in front of the grieving woman, “Please, come away from him.”

Adriana shakes her head stubbornly. “
No
—you’ll hurt him.”

“How the
fuck
can we hurt him, woman?” Curtis asks from the floor. “He’s already dead. He doesn’t
feel
anything.”

The little
prick
has barely lifted a finger since we got here—and this is his contribution?

Wanker!

“Shut up, Curtis,” his sister snaps. “You’re not helping.”

Curtis sniffs and then shakes his head. “Do what you want then, sis. It’s
your
funeral.”

“Do you have children?” Natalie asks Adriana.

“Yes?”

“Then you need to stay alive. Otherwise they’re gonna lose you both.”

Adriana lets out a painful wail and goes to hug Ted. “
I can’t leave him. He’s everything to me.
”

Suddenly Ted’s eyes spring open.

Followed by his jaws.

Jonny leaps over to her and yanks her away, Ted’s teeth missing her by an inch. Clearly disorientated, she struggles to free herself from Jonny’s grasp. But then she sees what’s become of her husband—and she screams in terror.

Backing away against the wall, I stare into Ted’s grey eyes; his teeth snapping at fresh air. He tugs at his restraint, and he wheezes like a dying dog. Natalie scurries away in fear until she’s next to Adriana. I don’t know what’s more shocking: staring into the face of a man back from the dead, or the fact that Jonny just saved Adriana’s life.

We gawk at the Nec, tied to the bar, every one of us unable to say a word. But what is there to say? What magic sentence would somehow make this day, this situation, any more bearable—any crazier?

Natalie tries to hug Adriana as she weeps for her husband, to guard her against the vicious sight no loved one should have to witness. But she resists, pulling out of Natalie’s embrace.

Ted’s cries are getting louder and louder, drawing even more attention to us.

“What are we supposed to do now?” I ask. “The Necs are gonna hear him.”

As much as Jonny’s opinions are usually hard to hear, getting Ted outside is probably our best option. We can’t have a Nec in here with us. He’s gonna get louder the hungrier he gets. We need to move him. But how can we? We’ve already told Adriana that we wouldn’t touch him. But even if she agreed that it was the best solution—where the
hell
would we put him? We can’t put him onto the corridor; there’s most likely Necs still loitering. The last thing we need is to remind them that we’re still in here. The only other possibility is through the glass. But how are we supposed to smash that without drawing even
more
attention to us? The window opens a little, but not nearly wide enough to push him out.

We could cut him up!

What—with a flick-knife?

Shut the fuck up, Alfie.

“We need to gag him,” Jonny says as Ted’s howls increase. “And we need to do it now.”

“With what?” I ask, scanning the room for something to use.

I don’t think Adriana even heard Jonny’s proposal through her tears. But he’s right: gagging him is a bloody good idea.

“We could use this,” Natalie offers, picking up a light red cardigan, draped over a stool.

“That’s mine,” Adriana says, sniffing loudly. “You can’t use that. Ted bought it for me. Find something else.”

“There’s nothing else,” I tell her. “We need to use this. It’s just a cardigan. The last thing your husband would want to do is hurt you.”

Adriana nods, staring at the cardigan. “I didn’t even want to come here today. But he insisted. I don’t even care about
bloody football
. But one of the companies he deals with owns it, so he dragged me along. He said he didn’t want to watch it alone. So he took me shopping yesterday to make up for it. He bought me these shoes, this dress.” She swallows hard. “And that cardigan.”

Ted lets out a huge cry. I turn to the door, horrified that the sound will draw them to us.

“We’ll find something else,” Natalie says, handing the cardigan over to her.

Adriana reaches for it—but then pulls her hand away, shaking her head. “No. It’s fine. Use it.” She looks at her dead husband. “It’s just a cardigan.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Adriana replies. “It’s just a thing. It doesn’t matter. People matter.”

Natalie smiles, sympathetically. “Okay. Thank you.” She holds each end of the cardigan and then swings it around like a skipping rope, until it becomes thin and long—perfect for gagging a dead man. “We won’t hurt him. We just need him to be quiet.”

Ted’s moans are now deafening shrieks, like a car alarm going off. The sound is wandering. It’s only a matter of time before the Necs are banging on the door again.

Adriana covers her ears and looks away from her husband.

With the makeshift gag held in front of her, Natalie creeps bravely towards the Nec; her hands are trembling, sweat dripping down her face.

“Let me do it,” I say, stretching for the cardigan. “It’s too dangerous.”

She pulls it out of my reach. “No. I want to do it.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll be quicker than you. And you’re shaking. One slip up and he’ll bite you.”

“I’m not shaking,” she says, clearly flexing her arms. “I can do it.”

“Look, I’ve spent years sneaking money out of a comatose foster father’s wallet. I’m an expert at this sort of thing.”

“This is not the bloody same,” she replies. “You’ve never done something like this before. None of us have.”

“Look, just let him do it,” Jonny interrupts. “For
fuck’s sake
.”

Sighing in defeat, Natalie hands me the cardigan. “
Fine, Alfie.
Knock yourself out.”

“Thank you.” I take the gag, and I pull on each end hard to make it as firm as possible. As I edge closer to Ted, I start to feel my hands quiver, and my stomach turn with nerves. Maybe I was a little too quick to be a hero. What the hell do
I
know about gagging Necs? I’m not a bloody Cleaner.

Ted’s dead eyes are now locked onto mine, which makes this all the more terrifying. I’m much more comfortable being the one that no one sees; the one that throws the punch
after
the fight has kicked off. Not the opening act.

Is it too late to change my mind?

I move the gag up to his face; he snaps his jaws at it. I pull away in fright. One nip and I’m fucked. Why the hell did I agree to this?

Because you’re a macho dickhead who loves showing off to pretty girls
—
that’s why!

Moving the gag in line with his mouth again, I go in for another attempt. This time, he brings his head forward as he tries to bite it. I pull the cardigan away, chickening out for a second time.

“Come on, Alfie,” Jonny taunts. “Just let him bite it.”

“Shut up!” Natalie snaps at him. “You’re doing fine, Alfie. Be brave. You’ve
got
this.”