Blog of the Dead (Book 1): Sophie (37 page)

I heard a car horn honk outside and I picked up my knife. ‘Let’s do this,’ I said, gripping the knife before me like a bouquet.

Sam, Misfit and Stewart had already driven down to St Andrews in the Mazda. Ted had driven it back up and was waiting for us outside the gate of our camp. As we drove down to St Andrews, Ted rambled on, ‘Not a bad day for it. Cold but dry. Those clouds might clear, too. The sun’s broken through …’ while Charlotte chatted back to him excitedly from the passenger seat. Kay sat in the back beside me, her axe across her lap. ‘Nice day for an off white, tatty wedding,’ she said, looking at my wedding dress. I didn’t say anything. I looked out the window, wondering why there were so many more zombies about than usual.

We had to brain a few zombies before Ted could get the gate to St Andrews car park open. Safely inside, we made our way through the back of the building towards the gardens. Flick, dressed in a white robe, met us in the porch, by the doors that led out into the garden. There was no sign of Sara. ‘We’re almost ready for you,’ Flick said with a smile.

I glanced outside. The garden buzzed with activity, with people setting out the food on dining tables from the St Andrews flats, and making last minute adjustments to the home made bunting and paper chain decorations that hung around the hedges and fencing that enclosed it. I could hear chatter and laughter. Stewart played his guitar and sang. A girl called Jordan wore a cheerleader outfit and leapt about, practising a routine on a clear patch of lawn. Kelly’s youngest children ran around, weaving in and out of the adults. Tricia sat by herself near the end of the lawn looking bored, fed up and totally disinterested in everything. Even the zombies rattling the metal gate at the very end of the garden didn’t seem to impress her.

I could see Sam standing next to Misfit about halfway down the garden, both wearing suit jackets over their skinny jeans. Sam looked so handsome but it was Misfit that caught my attention. Skinny, tattooed, scruff bag Misfit with his tousled fair hair, wearing a suit jacket – for me. They didn’t speak to each other and both looked a little awkward as they waited for the ceremony to begin.

On the other side of the fence, zombies had gathered and, like me, stood watching the busy humans inside the garden. I realised why there were so many more zombies on the streets, they were drawn to the smell of life.

Soph stuck her head through the door. ‘We’re ready for you,’ she said. I had an urge to get drunk … or run. I didn’t want to get married. I never had. I went along with it because saying no to Sam would have said, ‘I don’t love you.’ But I did love Sam … so why didn’t I want to marry him? The wedding guests had gathered either side of him and he stood with his back to me. Waiting. It struck me then, what scared me most in the world. Not the zombies on the other side of the fence, but something that had always been my greatest fear, long before the zombies came along ... not doing the right thing. I struggled to decide what was the right thing in this case … to marry Sam because that’s what he wanted or to walk up there and tell him it’s off because that’s what I wanted …?

‘Sophie, shall we …?’ Flick held out a hand and I took it. She led me down the garden towards Sam, with Charlotte and Kay following me, while Stewart continued to sing. Sam glanced back and smiled at me and I felt as though I’d turned my knife and plunged it into my stomach. Flick let go of my hand and went to stand in front of Sam. I took my place beside him and Charlotte took my knife from me. Stewart stopped singing and held his guitar at his side.

Flick began to speak but I couldn’t hear anything other than an inner voice saying,
Tell him
.
Tell him you don’t want to get married
. I opened my mouth but nothing came out. Sam put his hand out before him. He nudged me and I realised that I was supposed to do the same. I raised my right hand and Sam grasped it tight. Flick continued to speak as she held up a length of ribbon. The wooden fence either side of the metal gate at the end of the garden began to buckle from the weight of blows from the other side, and I realised that the zombies must have got through the back hedge to the fence itself. Flick stopped speaking and turned to look at the fence, along with the rest of us.

‘They won’t get through,’ said Chris, coming out from the group of people to my left. ‘But me and Soph are going to get the chainsaws to be on the safe –’ a fence panel creaked. Tricia sat a couple of metres from the fence, having decided to shun the wedding for some reason, but made no attempt to move. I let go of Sam’s hand as the fence panel gave way and the first zombies fell through the gap, into the garden. More staggered in after them, heading towards Tricia.

‘Tricia, move!’ I yelled. I saw her scramble to her feet near the busted fence, but a zombie grabbed a handful of her hair before she could get all the way up. She screamed and tried to pull away but the zombie yanked her backwards. Tricia kept her footing, spun round and kicked the zombie in the shin, making its rotten leg buckle but it didn’t let go. I darted towards the teenager. Sam ran after me, grabbed my arm and flung me back.

‘Get into the building. Now!’ he said and he sprinted off down the garden, unarmed, towards Tricia as she struggled with the zombie, more closing in.

‘Sam!’ I screamed but he ignored me. More zombies staggered up the lawn, heading towards the, for the most part, unarmed humans who had started retreating back into St Andrews. Dolly and Elsie sat near the patio, and a couple of the younger St Andrews lot helped the old dears onto their feet and guided them towards the building at a frustratingly slow pace, but I was confident they had enough time before the zombies reached them.

I saw Kelly a couple of metres up the garden. She thrust Ella into the arms of Shane, her eldest and said something to him. Shane nodded and led his bothers and sisters towards the building, while Kelly ran off, weaponless, towards the oncoming zombies. I wondered what she was doing until I spotted little Jay further down the garden to the left, near the chicken coop, zombies approaching and forcing him back against the fence. Ted swooped in, faster than I thought him capable of, and began whacking zombie heads with a baseball bat.

‘Sophie!’ Charlotte ran towards me, cleaver in one hand and knife in the other. She held out my knife, handle first, and I grabbed it.

‘Get inside,’ I said to her. She threw me a look that said,
Don’t be stupid, sweetie
and the pair of us sprinted towards the zombies advancing on Jay, his little eyes squeezed shut, his mouth wide open in a cry for his mum.

I plunged my knife into zombie heads, black blood spraying onto my dress, while Charlotte switched between using her cleaver and some neat karate moves. Misfit appeared at my side and we beat the zombies back long enough for Kelly to grab Jay and head towards St Andrews. Most of the humans had made it inside the building ahead of the zombies, the front runners only just over halfway down the garden. Stewart held another of the old folk, Patrick, by the elbow and helped him to the building. Patrick hobbled along with his walking stick in his free hand, while Stewart held his guitar in his free hand, ready to use as a weapon should the zombies catch up with them.

I snapped my head round to look down the end of the garden and saw Kay chopping zombie heads with her axe to keep the hoard back while Sam struggled to free Tricia’s hair from the zombie’s clutches. He delivered a punch into the zombie’s jaw and it fell back, ripping a chunk of Tricia’s hair but at least she was free. Another zombie lurched forwards and grasped Tricia’s arm, pulled it to its mouth and bit her. Tricia screamed. Sam clung onto her and tried to pull her away but another grabbed her and bit into her neck.

Me, Charlotte, Misfit and Ted darted further down the garden towards them. If we didn’t get back to the building before the zombies reached the doors, we’d be cut off.

‘Sam, leave her!’ I yelled, realising it was pointless risking himself for a dead girl. Sam turned and shot me a disbelieving look, despite the fact he’d dragged me away from Guitar Don and Craig when they had been bitten. In that moment a zombie lunged forwards and bit Sam’s right forearm. He yelled and let go of Tricia, who was immediately pulled into the hoard. Sam punched the zombie that bit him, sending it sprawling backwards into the ones behind it. ‘SAM! SAM! NO NO NO NO!!’ I screamed, stabbing zombies like never before, taking my horror and anger out on them. He looked at me again, his eyes wide with fear as more zombies reached for him. I sprang towards Sam, grabbed his left hand and pulled him away from the zombies and towards the building, shoving zombies out of my way. I only cared about getting him out of there, somewhere safe.

I heard Kay shout, ‘Fall back.’ I span my head round and saw that Kay and Charlotte weren’t far behind me but Ted was having trouble keeping up. He stumbled and the zombies were on him, tearing chunks out of his flesh, his screams filling the silence left by Tricia.

We made it into St Andrews and stood in the porch watching the countless zombies stagger towards the building. Sam stood beside me, our fingers entwined. I couldn’t look at him. I heard him sniff and I knew he was crying. My head span and I thought I was going to throw up but I stayed as I was with my hand tight in Sam’s. If I looked at him, I’d have to confront that he’d been bit. I wasn’t ready. Behind me, people sobbed, or cried out in horror. Kelly spoke soothing words to calm her little ones. But no one came near me and Sam.

Zombies filled the garden, pulling down the bunting, knocking over tables, tramping ravaged feet through the food, slamming their rotting hands against the other side of the glass. ‘We need to secure the garden,’ said Sam, his voice raw but determined. He let go of my hand and shot off through the others and returned shortly holding a petrol bomb. ‘Remember this?’ he said, holding it up to me. It was the last petrol bomb that Caine and his cronies made, back in the house in Sandgate. I had forgotten all about it. ‘I was going to give it to you as a wedding gift,’ said Sam. I kept my eyes on the bomb and tried not to look at the bloody bite on his arm. ‘It’s all I had to give you. My way of saying that we’ll blast those fuckers together for the rest of our lives …’ Tears streamed down my cheeks and I stifled a sob. ‘I can use it to burn as many zombies as possible and then I’ll get that fence secure.’

‘You can’t go out there alone,’ I said, my voice shaky. ‘I’m coming too.’

‘No,’ said Sam. ‘You’re not going out there. I can do this.’

‘He won’t be alone.’ I turned to see Chris and Soph. ‘We’ll go with these.’ Chris raised a chainsaw. Soph carried the other one.

‘And I’ve got this,’ said Flick, holding up her shotgun.

‘What’s the plan?’ asked Soph.

Sam looked at the hoard pressing up against the doors. He turned to me and thrust the petrol bomb into my hand. Not knowing what to do with my knife, I stuck it through some layers of lace in my skirt. ‘Sophie, go to the next floor up, light the bomb and chuck it down on this lot. I’ll open the doors, then Flick, you blast any of the burning fuckers that haven’t already gone down. Chris, Soph, you head out with the chainsaws and clear the way for me so I can get one of those tables up to block the hole in the fence.’

‘I’ll help you,’ said Misfit.

‘We’ll be defenceless while we carry it,’ said Sam.

‘I know, but you’ll never manage it by yourself,’ said Misfit and he slid his knife through his belt.

‘Ok, the rest of you stay in here where it’s safe,’ Sam said to the remaining St Andrews lot. ‘Ready?’ he said to the rest of us.

‘Ready,’ I said, trying to keep my tears back. I had a job to do. I flung my arms around Sam and we hugged each other tight, his blood soaking into my dress and smearing onto my skin. He pulled back and kissed me gently on the lips. The kiss ended way before I wanted it to.

‘I love you, Sophie,’ he said. I took a breath but the lump in my throat stopped me from talking and I didn’t have time to find my words. Later.

I turned and ran off to the stairs that would take me to the next floor, petrol bomb in hand, and my free hand rummaging for my lighter in a pocket in Misfit’s biker jacket.

On the next floor, I ran down to the end of the hall, to the door that led onto a small balcony, overlooking the garden. I stood on the balcony and with shaking hands, I lit the rag in the top of the petrol bomb. I leaned over the balcony, burning bottle in hand. ‘Die motherfuckers,’ I yelled down to the crowd of zombies. Some of them looked up as I threw the petrol bomb onto the ground between them. Then they were ablaze, the fire spreading through them. They didn’t even seem that bothered. But as the flames ate at their dry, rotten bodies, some of them began to drop.

I heard the first gunshot. The burning body of a zombie went flying backwards with the force of the blast. More gunshots. I waited long enough to hear the chainsaws start up and watch Soph and Chris emerge and mash up the remaining burning zombies outside the house, moving on to the zombies further down, then I turned and sprinted back downstairs.

When I got there, Misfit and Sam had already reached the table, a six foot, solid wood one from one of the flats, and they had an end each, carrying it down the long garden, while Soph and Chris turned zombie heads into soup. Kay, Charlotte, Stewart, cheerleader Jordan and Kelly with her two eldest were out there too, tooled up and clearing the way for Sam and Misfit. I pulled my knife out of my skirt, opened the door and ran out into the garden after the others. I stabbed zombies, blaming each and every one of them for Sam’s bite. I wasn’t aware of anything around me but the zombies and my need to kill.

By the time I’d run out of zombies, I looked to the end of the garden and I saw Misfit holding the table up to the fence, while some of the St Andrews lot hammered nails into the wood, securing it in place. I couldn’t see Sam anywhere. I darted down the garden, holding my long skirt up as I ran. ‘SAM? SAM? Where’s Sam?’ I asked, panting when I reached the end of the garden. I used my free hand to push curls out of my face from my collapsing hairstyle.

Misfit turned his head, still holding the table in place. ‘He’s gone.’