Blog of the Dead (Book 1): Sophie (28 page)

‘You fucking wouldn’t …’ I said, feeling my legs go weak.

‘I fucking would,’ said Caine. ‘So, I suggest we go and wake your friends up and tell them about the new system. Either that, or I shoot the first one of them to come down those stairs.’

Caine nodded over my shoulder, towards the hallway, just as I heard feet on the stairs and Sam’s voice calling, ‘Sophie, how long’s it take to make a coffee?’

18th May, 2.45pm
Caine put a finger to his lips and stepped back behind the half open kitchen door. I could still see him but he would be hidden from Sam’s view. Caine pointed the shotgun at my head and nodded to me. I knew what that nod meant:
Act natural, sweetheart
.

I stood with my back to the other three guys at the kitchen table and stared out of the kitchen, down the hallway. Sam came into view on the staircase. ‘You ok, Sophie?’ he asked as he descended the last few steps. He walked along the hallway with a strange expression on his face, and I realised that I must have looked crazy – just standing in the kitchen, eyes wild, brain wondering what words it might safely let slip from my gaping mouth.

‘Sam ...’ was as far as I could get.

Sam crossed the threshold into the kitchen. His gaze shot over my shoulder and his eyes bulged. I knew he’d spotted Trent, Eddie and Misfit at the table. ‘What the –’ began Sam. Caine stepped around the door and pointed the gun at Sam. Taking advantage of Sam’s moment of shock, Caine put an arm around Sam’s neck, and held the shotgun to the side of his head.

I put my hands to my mouth to stifle a scream. ‘Don’t hurt him. Don’t you fucking hurt him!’

‘I won’t,’ said Caine, ‘as long as you do as I say. Go and wake up the others, bring all your weapons down here and put ‘em on the table. And I mean all your weapons. My boys’ll do a search afterwards, and for every weapon they find that you haven’t handed over, I’ll slice pretty boy’s face.’ Caine used the butt of the shotgun to tap his belt, where I saw a five inch bladed knife beneath the leather. I looked Sam in the eye. What choice did I have? I backed towards the door. ‘Don’t try anything stupid – Sophie, isn’t it? Or it’ll be your fault when Sam, here, gets cut.’

I turned and ran from the kitchen and up the stairs. I got to Charlotte’s room first. I opened the door. She was asleep. I knelt by the side of the bed and shook her shoulder gently. ‘Sssh, Charlotte,’ I said when she woke with a gasp.

‘What? What is it, sweetie?’ she asked, sitting up and brushing her long hair out of her face.

‘Those guys from yesterday. They’re back.’

‘What –’

‘No time. They’re downstairs. They’ve got Sam … and the shotgun. Too much to explain right now, but we need to get the others up and … they want us to surrender all our weapons.’

‘What the fuck …?’

‘They’ve got Sam. We have to do as they say. Help me wake Stewart and Kay, and get all our weapons together. Now!’

‘Shit. This is really happening. Ok,’ said Charlotte. ‘I need to … I-I need to get dressed …Give me a minute.’

‘Sure. Just a minute. I don’t like leaving Sam with those creeps.’ I stood up and dashed out of Charlotte’s bedroom. I darted into my room and changed my pyjamas for jeans and a t-shirt.

While I was still in my room, I heard Kay shouting, a door slamming and feet pounding. I ducked out into the landing in time to see Kay marching towards the stairs, axe in hand, while Charlotte ran behind her, looking worried. ‘Kay!’ I called.

She stopped and turned to me. ‘We’ll see about this!’ she said. ‘Nobody’s going to barge in here and start bossing us about. Over my dead body. They can do one!’

‘What’s going on?’ asked Stewart as he appeared at his bedroom door. He rubbed his eyes.

‘No, Kay. They’ve got Sam.’ I said, ignoring Stewart.

‘Well, we’ll get Sam back and kick those fuckers out,’ said Kay.

‘They’ll hurt him … kill him.’ I walked over to Kay and put a hand on her arm. ‘There’s not time to figure anything, and we can’t risk them hurting Sam,’ I whispered. ‘I think we have to do what they say for now, and come up with a plan later.’

‘You can’t be serious,’ said Kay.

‘I’d hurry up if I where you,’ a voice called up the stairs – not Caine’s. I leant over the banisters and saw Eddie in the hallway below, the angle making him look even shorter and fatter. ‘Caine’s just handed the gun to Trent and got his knife out. Just saying …’ he continued with a swine-like smirk.

‘Shit!’ I said, turning to Kay and the others. ‘Get your weapons – all your weapons. We have to take them downstairs now. I don’t see any other way. Then you can all meet Caine and see just how serious you think he is.’

So, since that Thursday morning, things have gone down hill. Trent fixed a new lock on the French doors. He and Eddie locked the French doors and the back door, as well as all the windows throughout the house, upstairs and down, and gave the keys to Caine. Trent also fitted a lock to what used to be mine and Sam’s room, and is now mine, Sam’s, Kay’s, Charlotte’s and Stewart’s room. They lock us in at night. In the day we can move about the house as we like, but that shotgun never leaves Caine’s side. And the other three always carry knives and crowbars – Trent’s taken a liking for Kay’s axe. She’s seething.

There have been quite a few showdowns between us and them, but it always seems to come down to the team with the gun always wins.

All our weapons have been confiscated. We only get to have a weapon when two of us are forced out on a supply run (the only time we’re allowed outside). To ensure that we comply and don’t try anything stupid while out, the other three are held at gunpoint until the supply runners get back. We’re always searched at the door so we can’t risk smuggling in weapons.

We’ve been living like this for over two weeks. Caine and the other three get to have most of the supplies. They eat like kings and get drunk every night, while the rest of us live on scraps. We’re tired and hungry.

Caine is worse than any zombie I’ve come across.

25th May, 1.20pm
This morning, once we’d been let out of our room by Eddie, I trudged down to the kitchen with the others to see how much food, if anything, we’d been left for breakfast. But there wasn’t any food on the kitchen table, not even the remains of our new house mates’ meal for us to pick over. Instead, four glass bottles filled with clear liquid, a rag poking out the top of each, stood on the kitchen table where Trent, Caine and Misfit sat. Petrol bombs. Marvellous. When I asked what they were for, Caine replied, ‘Hmm, for some fun and games, sweetheart.’ He looked me right in the eye – in a deep and penetrating manner that made me feel naked. Eddie, who leaned against the kitchen work surface, and Trent laughed at Caine’s words, but – as always – Misfit looked down to his tattooed hands and appeared to be as impressed by Caine’s remark as a Goth is with National Laughter Day.

I looked at Misfit, concentrating on his hands, and managed to work out what’s written across his knuckles –
Life Lost
in Gothic style script. I couldn’t help wondering, did he get that tattooed before the zombie outbreak, like some kind of indelible portent?

‘He’s got seven piercings,’ said Caine, interrupting my thought.

I turned to Caine. ‘
What
?’ I asked him.

‘Seven piercings, haven’t you Misfit? One in each ear, one in his lip and one in each nipple.’ Caine yanked up Misfit’s grubby, torn and faded black t-shirt and revealed a pierced nipple. Misfit batted Caine’s hand away. ‘That makes five,’ Caine continued. ‘So, guess where the other two are … Ask him nicely, I’m sure he’ll give you a private viewing.’ Caine laughed, a hand on the muzzle of the shotgun propped up against the side of the table. ‘Won’t you, Misfit? You’ll give her a private viewing.’ Caine gave Misfit a playful punch on the shoulder. ‘Bet she’d be well up for it. Wouldn’t you, sweetheart,’ he said to me. ‘Ever been with a guy with –’

‘Leave her alone, Caine!’ I was surprised that the words of warning came not from Sam, who stood beside me, but from Misfit. I’d barely heard him speak since they’d arrived, now here he was sticking up for me. Caine turned his icy blue eyes on him, and was about to say something when Sam took a stride towards the table, loomed over Caine and said, ‘Don’t. Ever. Say. Anything. Like. That. To. Her. Again.’

Caine picked up the shotgun, while Trent put a skinny hand to Kay’s axe on the table in front of him. Everyone looked at Caine. He placed the shotgun across his lap. ‘Sorry, Pretty Boy. Didn’t mean to step on your toes. I know she’s your bird, but no harm in having options, hey?’ he said, sitting forwards and slapping Sam on the back. ‘No hard feelings, eh?’ Caine stood up. ‘And Misfit, clear this shit up,’ he said nodding down to the table littered with a ripped up beige cotton summer dress, a funnel and a petrol can amongst other things. ‘And then organise some breakfast, you little fuck. I’m starving.’ Caine picked up two of the petrol bombs, while Trent stood and picked up the other two. They strutted across the kitchen and placed the petrol bombs on the work surface, near the sink.

Caine leaned back against the sink and pulled a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. He tapped a cigarette out of the packet, placed it in his mouth and lit it, all the time looking at me – in that way that made me feel naked – smirking. Misfit swept his arm across the table, knocking everything other than the petrol can onto the floor. He looked at Caine to gauge a reaction. Caine ignored him.

‘Get your own breakfast,’ said Misfit. He stood, pushed his chair with the backs of his legs so that it fell backwards and hit the tiles with a crack, and stomped out of the kitchen. I expected him to slam the kitchen door behind him in true stroppy teenager stylee, but he didn’t. Caine didn’t react to Misfit’s tantrum. Just kept staring at me.

25th May, 2.50pm
I know there’s never a good day to be held hostage, but when it’s as beautiful outside as it is today it sucks even more. It’s been hot and sunny for the last few days. I’d got used to it being cold – winter went on for so long.

I wish I’d enjoyed last summer a bit more now. Before zombies and psychos went and spoilt everything for the rest of us. I didn’t, of course, not only because the weather was crappy, but I was getting over my last boyfriend, Lewis. It wasn’t a case of full-blown-broken-heart – we’d had a good year together and had just out grown each other – but I still had a rough time adjusting to single life.

I stayed in my bedroom a lot, listened to music and generally moped, and missed what little sun there was. Whenever Jake burst into my room, wanting me to play with him, I’d scream at him to, ‘Get lost, you little creep!’ His games usually involved him dressing up as Spider-Man and me pretending to be Poison Ivy, or – when Jake’s whining wore me down – Doc Ock (I used to tie two scarves around my waist for Doc Ock’s arms – tentacles ... whatever). The last thing I wanted to do last summer was dress up like Doc Ock. I wasn’t to know …

June

3rd June, 5.20pm
In the zombie apocalypse having a base with a secure defence ranks pretty highly – up there with kick-ass weapons and plenty of supplies. So, that said, me, Sam, Charlotte, Kay and Stewart were surprised to find Eddie and Trent knocking down the fence we’d put up to reinforce the tall hedge at the front of the house. ‘Woo hoo!’ yelled Trent as he struck the fence with Kay’s axe. Eddie, his face red and sweaty from the exertion, stopped for a breather, then kicked at the fence with a booted foot.

‘What the fuck are they doing that for, the fucktards?’ said Kay, standing at the French doors in the kitchen.

‘You have to stop them,’ said Sam, turning to Caine.

Caine sat at the kitchen table, holding the shotgun halfway down the barrel. ‘Why would I do that?’

‘Erm … because zombies will be able to get in if they don’t,’ said Stewart.

Caine laughed. ‘Ah, we’re just going to play a little game, that’s all,’ he said.

‘A game?’ I asked. ‘What sort of game?’

‘You’ll see.’ Caine stood up and held the shotgun out to Misfit, who stood near the French doors, to the right of Kay. ‘Keep an eye on them. Can you handle that, kiddo?’

Misfit grabbed the gun. ‘Of course I fucking can.’

‘Good boy,’ said Caine, and he strutted over to the French doors, and out to Eddie and Trent. He gave a whooping cry and took a running kick at the fence.

Misfit levelled the gun with Kay’s head, Kay being the closest to him. ‘Stay back, ok? Don’t any of you do anything, right?’

‘Misfit, you don’t have to do this, you know?’ I said, taking a small step towards him.

‘Stay back, Sophie,’ he said, turning the gun on me. Just one bullet. Not enough for all of us, but enough to wipe one of us out – if he was a good shot – before the others could move in. I did as he said and held back.

The three dickheads outside made a racket – banging, wood splintering – and it wasn’t long before the entire front fence had come down. Trent, Eddie and Caine (Trent towering above the other two) started jumping about on the debris, shouting and whooping at the tops of their voices.

‘Idiots,’ said Kay. ‘They’re going to bring every zombie for miles right to us.’

‘Please, Misfit,’ I began, ‘I can see you don’t … um …
fit
in with those guys. You’re not like them. You’re like us. Help us and we’ll help you.’

‘Shut up, Sophie,’ said Misfit.

‘Come on, Misfit,’ I continued, ‘you know you’re not happy with those guys. They treat you like shit. Give me the gun and we can get rid of them – right now. The six of us against the three of them. Just give me the gun, let us get our weapons back, and we can get rid of them for good.’ Misfit lowered the gun slightly. I held my breath as though a startled deer stood in front of me, instead of a startled boy, and any sudden movement would scare it away.

‘Sophie, I can’t,’ said Misfit, and he levelled the gun at my head.

‘Yes you can,’ said Charlotte. ‘You’re better than them, sweetie. I know you are. This is your chance to be free of them.’