Zombiekill (8 page)

“Don’t talk about your mother like that,” said Kyler. “Don’t you dare. You really believe it’s a good thing she’s dead? You happy with that situation?”

Charlie regretted her words as soon as she’d said them, but he kept pushing her. There was nothing more in the world she wanted than to have her mother back. She would never talk like this. She would never have let things get this bad between them. Her mother had been the glue holding them together, and now that she was gone the bond between father and daughter was gone too. It hadn’t vanished overnight, it had taken a few weeks, but slowly it had gone. Her father had refused to talk about anything for a while, and by the time he came around to it, it was too late. There was a distance now that he and Charlie could never recover from. By the time Kyler had started talking again she could hear the bitterness in every word he spoke to her. Why did she have to be stuck here with him, with no future, with zero chance of making a future for herself? Was this all that life had left to offer: endless arguments with her father, never venturing beyond the walls of the house, and never seeing anyone else in the whole world but herself and the hatred in her father’s eyes?

As the tears continued pouring down her cheeks she hated herself for it. No doubt he was pleased with his morning’s work. He was right, she was pathetic. She was twenty-one. She knew she should be stronger than that, able to rise above the insults, yet she found that as every day passed she was getting weaker. She was giving up. She couldn’t argue with him anymore. She couldn’t see a way out of this mess. She wiped away her tears and summoned up what little energy she had.

“I wish it was you. I wish it was you out there instead of her.” Charlie sniffed and rubbed her eyes. God, she was tired. It was barely noon, yet all she wanted to do was curl up in bed. “I wish Mom was here and you were dead.”

Kyler strode up to his daughter, walking right up to her so that she could smell the faint residue of last night’s whiskey on his breath. “And?”

Charlie looked at him, confused. And what? She had just told him she wished he was dead, and all he could do was look at her. Why wasn’t he shouting at her? Why wasn’t he berating her, telling her how ridiculous she was being or slapping her? Was this just a game?

“And what?”

“Well, I wish your Mother was here too. Every time I look at you, I see her. Every single minute that I’m conscious I wish she were here. Jemma was the best thing to happen to me until you were born. But she’s gone, so wishing I was out there instead is pretty pointless, don’t you think? Isn’t it more realistic to think about what you can do about it, about your present situation, instead of dwelling on the past?”

“Me? But I’m pathetic. I’m a nobody, isn’t that what you keep telling me?” Charlie shook her head. “What can
I
do about it, Dad?”

Kyler sighed. He brushed past Charlie and picked up the crowbar from the ground. Looking at Charlie, his large, brown eyes burned like fire. “Now
that’s
a good question, Charlie.”

CHAPTER 5

The plan was simple. Schafer knew which roads were best to take, which ones were clear of the corpses, and which to navigate to reach the house on the hill. That was the simple part. The hard part would be getting past the zombies that roamed through Peterborough at will. Schafer had found no evidence that anyone else was alive, although he had to admit he hadn’t covered even as much as half of it. The excursion a few days ago had been quick and about gathering only what he needed. He had returned with a few cans of food, but very little else except the knowledge that the Attwood’s residence was the only alternative to dying of starvation at Jeremy and Lyn’s house.

“You sure about this?” Jeremy approached Schafer as they got ready to leave. They were making the last preparations before leaving. It was late in the day, and they wanted to get going before the dark. If they were stuck outside at night they would have severe difficulty finding, not just Attwood’s, but anywhere safe to stay.

“Of course. As long as we are all ready, then we should get moving,” replied Schafer. In the last few days his beard had seemingly grown even longer, so much that it was beginning to hide his voice when he spoke. With his clipped English and German accent, sometimes Jeremy found it hard to identify every word the man said.

“Right, right. It’s just that I need to know that my family is going to be safe. I can’t afford any mistakes with this. If you think there is any chance of this going wrong, then I need to know. It’s not too late to back out. We can stay here. We can still make a go of it with the supplies we have. I’m sure if we just got the seeds to take and figured out an irrigation system we could—”

“Nein.” Schafer had heard it before, heard all the excuses and reasons why they should stay. Jeremy had been the last one to agree to go, and convincing him had taken all of Schafer’s efforts. Was it a desire to protect his home, fear of the outside world, or just blind naïveté that led Jeremy to think they were better off staying? Even his wife, Lyn, had agreed that they had to do something, go somewhere, and find help. They would surely die if they stayed at Jeremy’s, and Schafer wasn’t about to let him change his mind now, not when they were all ready to go. “We go today. Now. It’s agreed, Jeremy. We will be okay. Do you think I would risk taking my wife and daughter out there if I thought it wasn’t safe enough? I would do anything to protect Rilla, which is exactly why we are leaving.”

Schafer saw disappointment in Jeremy’s face. Surely he wasn’t going to abort at the last moment? The man wasn’t completely stupid. He and Lyn were intelligent people, teachers before the world stopped turning and became a dead zone. Victoria was well-educated and happy, she spoke politely, and they had taken in the strangers months ago without asking for anything in return. It seemed that being confined to the same building for months on end, though, hadn’t brought them close but in fact driven them apart. They had very different ideas on how to proceed from here. Part of it, Schafer knew, was that this wasn’t his home. This was Jeremy’s house, and abandoning it for the uncertainty of the outside, with
them
out there, was no doubt unsettling. But it was the right thing to do. It was the
only
thing left that they could do.

“Look, Jeremy, if you want to stay, then stay. You, Lyn, and Victoria might be able to survive without us. Perhaps we have depleted your food reserves too much. I’m sorry. But I am very grateful that you took us in.” Schafer put a firm hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and smiled. There was no hidden agenda or anything sinister in it; he genuinely wanted the man to feel a part of the plan. “I can do this without you, but it will be much easier if you are with us, I think. We are also leaving. Now.”

Schafer looked at the retaining wall he had climbed over a few days ago and remembered how it had been. At first, it had been quite easy. Until he had been forced to kill the woman in her own home, he had thought it would be relatively easy going from house to house. That first kill had almost undone him. It was only remembering how Magda and Rilla were relying on him that drove him on. He had killed more that day, more than he had wanted to, but it had been borne of necessity. He had passed through more houses, more streets, and eventually found a house where he had been able to look at the house on the hill that Rilla had urged him to investigate. The high walls around the estate and thick trees hid most of the property, but he could snatch glimpses of it. The house appeared quiet in the daylight, but he knew Rilla had seen lights at night. Schafer had stayed perfectly still in the upstairs bedroom of a stranger’s house for the best part of three hours watching the house. The heat of the day had warmed the house, and he wanted to stretch his stiff legs frequently, but it was important to monitor the house for activity. Once he had found a good vantage spot, he had stayed there without so much as taking a sip of water. The dead still walked beneath the window, in the streets all around him, and so Schafer had remained quiet, motionless for hours. In all that time he had seen only one sign of movement at the house. A figure had emerged from a doorway once, though it was impossible to tell if it was a man or woman. They had brought out a bucket and thrown it on the ground then gone back inside. That was it. That was all he had seen. Had it been Attwood clearing away garbage? Nobody really knew if Attwood was married, but rich people usually had friends, so it wouldn’t be outside the realm of possibility to imagine he had friends or relatives with him. It may have been a cook or servant throwing away dirty water. Whoever it was and whatever they were doing, there was nothing to suggest anything sinister was going on, and Schafer checked out how they would gain access. The high walls would be impossible to cross, and though the small moat could be crossed carefully, he could see some zombies had fallen in. They splashed around in the water, unable to climb the slippery banks out, and others wandered outside the walls, perhaps looking for a way in. The dead were thinner out there and more closely compacted in the town’s residential area where Jeremy’s house was. The only way in was to announce their presence and knock. Laughable though it felt, it was the only way.

There was a small roadway over the moat—which was no more than a glorified ditch—and it led to a building resembling a small warehouse. It adjoined the high walls and visibility was poor. Schafer imagined the outer door could be raised to let in vehicles, and they were just going to have to go and ask to be let in. Whilst Jeremy and Lyn had told them that Attwood was slightly eccentric and obnoxiously rich, there was nothing that Schafer had heard to suggest he would turn them away. He had not made his money selling weapons to terrorists or by investing in hedge funds. He was a human, a man, and Schafer knew Rilla was right. He would help them, and now he knew how to get there.

“We all good here?” Lyn approached Schafer and Jeremy holding her daughter’s hand. “Everything ready?”

Jeremy nodded but said nothing.

“Yes, everything is ready.” Schafer noticed that Victoria looked nervous. It wasn’t usual for her not to be smiling or laughing, and she clung to her mother’s side. Schafer bent down so his eyes were on the same level as hers. “What do you think, Vicky? You all set? This is just a vacation. It’ll be fun, just—”

“Thanks, Schafer, I’ve got it,” said Jeremy stepping in front of him.

With Jeremy blocking his way, it was clear that Schafer wasn’t welcome. Lyn began fussing and cooing over her daughter, telling her to pull up her socks and ensuring she had her bag packed, as if she were about to head off to school.

“Ja. Okay.”

Schafer began walking to the wall, feeling Jeremy’s eyes digging into his back. Even now there was a lack of trust between them. Perhaps the men knew that if it came to it, both would sacrifice the other, even their families, if it meant living. Both kept trying to take the upper hand, but they were locked in a stalemate, thrusting forward pawns in search of an answer, only to find their way blocked.

“Problem?” Rilla zipped up her light blue jacket. Even though it was warm, she wanted to take it with her, knowing there was every chance she was going to spend another winter in Peterborough. She carried a bag on her shoulders, as they all did, but kept her arms free. She held the brass base of a lamp in her hands, its cord and shade removed so as to allow her to move it freely if needed. They had had to improvise when it came to defending themselves, fashioning crude weapons out of whatever they could lay their hands on. Jeremy had no guns in the house and only a couple of large knives which he and Lyn held.

“No, it’s fine, they’re coming. Just a little nervous.”

“Nervous? I’m scared as hell.” Rilla drew in a breath and then puffed out her cheeks as she exhaled. The wall they were about to cross was the point of no return. They had packed as much as they could take with them and were going to end up at Attwood’s house. Rilla was excited, pleased at the knowledge they were finally taking action instead of waiting for something to happen. She was also scared. She hadn’t been outside since the motel, and that experience had been terrifying. Having corpses attacking them and having to literally run for their lives had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. Now they were willingly going out there again knowing what they were going to have to face. Rilla looked at her father with admiration. He had already been out there, already faced them, and returned to do it all over again. He was the strongest man she knew. “Let’s do this.”

“Magda, remember to stick close to me and Rilla,” said Schafer as he tightened the straps on her backpack. He tugged the bag on tightly and then turned her around so he could look into her eyes. “We’ll be fine. I’ve already been out there once. This time is no different. If anything it’ll be easier. We have strength in numbers. We’ll be at the house on the hill in no time.”

Magda bit her lower lip and stared up at her husband. “Okay. So we go now. It will be okay. It will be all okay, yes?”

Schafer grabbed her face and kissed his wife’s firm lips. “Vertrauen Sie mir.”

Magda carried a long-handled screwdriver, but Schafer knew she was unlikely to use it. His wife wasn’t a fighter, and whilst he carried the baseball bat he intended to make sure that neither she nor Rilla were obliged to use their own weapons. He grabbed the ladder they had placed by the wall. There was no secret about what they were doing and no need to take any chances. The ladder was cold, but its feet dug into the ground and would hold them all as they ventured over it far more securely than the garbage bins. He climbed up the first rung and turned around. Five sets of eyes stared at him with hope, but each with their own secrets too. Jeremy held bitterness in them, as if he didn’t want to accept that all of their fates now resided in what Schafer did next. Lyn had anger in hers, though Schafer could not know if it was directed at him or at her own husband for failing to stop him from taking them away from their home. Victoria was sad, too young to fully understand what they were doing but old enough to know they weren’t just going on vacation as they had tried to tell her. Magda tried to hide her terror, but was managing to convey to Schafer that she was completely out of her comfort zone and failing to hide her fear at all. When Schafer looked at Rilla, he felt pride rising inside of him. There was hope there but determination too. She was just like Magda had been years ago, before motherhood and age softened her. He saw himself in those eyes of his daughter’s. She would fight to her last breath, he had no doubt, yet he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He was going to try to lead them down the clearest streets so that they didn’t have to fight. Killing them wasn’t easy. It was like killing a real person; something nobody should have to do. He didn’t want Rilla to be put in that position, yet they had no choice but to leave. They had barely gathered up enough food to fill their six bags, which was a timely reminder of why they were leaving.

“Keep close.” Schafer smiled and lifted his baseball bat to the blue sky. “Today is a beautiful day. Tonight we will eat and sleep in a stranger’s house. But we will be safe. We will be happy. It will be beautiful.”

He climbed the ladder quickly and dropped down the other side waiting for Magda to follow. As Schafer planted that first foot on the neighbor’s property, he felt exhilarated. It was as if he were marching to war and should be waiving a flag above his head with a bayonet in hand, singing songs about a great leader. Instead, he was armed with just a baseball bat about to face an army of walking corpses with his family behind him. His exhilaration quickly evaporated when he realized the enormity of what they were doing. Lives were depending on him and what he did next, and not just his own. He did not doubt himself, but he also recognized the perilous journey they were about to undertake.

They all made it over the wall without encountering any problems and then to the end of the row of houses with relative ease. They reached the house where Schafer had killed the woman and waited. Schafer saw the street was clear which was unusual considering how he had left it. The dead bodies were still there where he had left them, but the walking ones were absent. He made everyone stay silent as he crept out onto the street on his own. Looking up and down, he saw nothing. He was surprised but wasn’t complaining. The fewer zombies they were confronted with then the quicker they would be. He beckoned the others out to join him.

Rilla looked at the motionless form of a dead boy in the gutter. His skull was caved in, his arms covered in infected cuts and bite marks. He wore pale blue pajamas with smiling teddy bears on them, and his feet were bare. She was thankful she couldn’t see his eyes and turned to her father.