Blog of the Dead (Book 3): Lost (23 page)

‘Guys.’ I turned to look at Kay. ‘Stop the van,’ she said.

Misfit hit the brake. I had already begun to slide myself through the seats and into the back. Misfit followed me and the two of us stood looking down at Charlotte.

‘She’s gone,’ said Kay, her fingers on Charlotte’s neck.

‘No,’ I said.

Kay’s body shook violently as she sobbed but I just stood there gazing down at my dead friend, numb, unable to feel anything. Misfit placed an arm around my waist and pulled me to him. I glanced at him and saw his tears but still I couldn’t react. I looked down at Charlotte again. She was there, right in front of me. She’d been alive – walking, talking, calling everyone
sweetie
, just a short time ago. She had been a ray of light in a crappy, shitty darkness for so long and now she had been snubbed out. Bright, positive, beautiful, strong, brave, gentle – now nothing.

Not Charlotte. Not her. My eyes stung and my vision clouded as the first wave of tears erupted. I sniffed as my nose began to run, and I held my breath, wanting to hold it all in. But it was no use. I slipped from Misfit’s grasp and fell onto my knees onto the laminate floor and I cried. Salt tears and snot mixed but I let them flow.

I cried until empty and I settled back into comfortable numbness. We each remained silent and still for a while – how long, I don’t know. Time has little meaning in moments of grief. There is just light and dark. It was still dark outside so I guessed our sorrow was a way off from bleeding into a new day.

‘What do we do now?’ I asked.

‘We can’t leave her in here with us and we can’t just leave her out there,’ said Kay. ‘We can’t leave her to rot out there with the zombies. She was never one of them.’

‘We should bury her,’ I said.

‘We could build a bonfire,’ said Misfit. ‘Give her a blazing send off.’

I stood and took a peek out of the window. I couldn’t see well in the dark but I could see enough to tell we had stopped next to a field – it seemed that’s all there was in this part of the world, roads that ran through flat, never ending fields. I wondered where we would get wood to build a fire but I spotted a crop of trees to the left and the fence around the field was made of wood, aged and rough. I hoped it wasn’t too wet from the recent storms.

I needn’t have worried; Misfit proved an expert at getting even the most stubborn of fires started. Soon the massive pile of wood we’d gathered was roaring. Charlotte’s body had already been placed on top before Misfit lit the pyre with my lighter – funny, I only just realised at that moment that I hadn’t had a cigarette since leaving Folkestone and I didn’t want one either. The thought made me feel sick. We stood in the damp, overgrown field beside the road and watched as the flames consumed our friend – our heroic friend – and kept her from the jaws of the zombies.

I pressed myself into Misfit’s side and he wrapped his arm around me.

‘Goodbye, Charlotte,’ I said. 

‘Goodbye, Clay, added Misfit.

‘Bloody bastards, bailing out on us,’ said Kay, her voice cracking.

We knew the flames would attract zombies, so after a few more moments, after we said our farewells, we climbed back into the camper van. Misfit drove a safe distance away and stopped so we could all get some much needed rest. Just the three of us left. As I lay in the back of the van my dead friends played a roll call in my head until I finally drifted off in Misfit’s arms.

At first light, we set off. No one spoke. In little over an hour, we arrived in Wales. As we crossed the River Wye on the Severn Bridge, heading towards the cottage in Devauden, a pang of renewed sadness hit my numbed insides. It was in the nearby town of Chepstow that we found Charlotte. She had been standing on a ledge outside a department store, looking like she intended to throw herself off and into the crowd of zombies below. But, when it came down to it – when we had been pursued by zombies as we attempted to rescue her – she had chosen to come with me, Kay and Liam instead.

By the time we arrived at the cottage, it had started to rain lightly. Misfit, who had been following my directions, having not been to Devauden before, drove through the gate and parked as close to the back door as he could get. I climbed down from the van and stood gazing at the innocuous looking little building, quaint and picturesque as any country abode. The rain, little more than a drizzle, was cold against the skin on my face and had already began to make my overgrown fringe stick to my forehead. I ran a hand through the front of my hair and pushed it out of my face. I glanced around for any sight of Zombie-Shelby but, seeing nothing, I sighed and I headed to the back door.

It was shut but, as I tried the handle, I discovered it wasn’t locked. I couldn’t remember how we left it. We’d left in a hurry and wouldn’t have locked up but had the last person closed the door? A waft of stale, sickly sweet but acrid air hit me as I stepped inside. My stomach flipped out on me like a toddler having a tantrum because it wanted sweets before dinner but was only offered carrot sticks so as not to spoil its appetite – I knew that we had left Toby’s body laying on the floor after Sam smashed his head to mush when Toby tried to shoot me, and I feared seeing it. Toby blamed me for him getting bitten by Zombie-Shelby and for his mate Dan getting shot (not that I wasn’t to blame to be honest). I guessed his remains were where the sweet, tangy smell of death emanated from.

I looked down to the spot where I knew Toby’s body to be but it wasn’t there. Had someone else taken over the cottage and cleared the grizzly mess away? I suddenly felt like an intruder.

‘Over there,’ said Kay.

Having been there when Sam killed Toby, she knew what I was looking for. My gaze followed her pointed finger to the far end of the kitchen, to the left of the door to the hallway. There I saw a pile of human remains, nothing more than bones picked clean. Someone or something had feasted on Toby’s body and moved the remains across the room.

My eyes darted around the room, once so familiar and, other than the camp by the Martello tower in Folkestone, the closest place to a comfortable home I’d had during the apocalypse. Bones – bones that had been gnawed clean – littered the floor and work surfaces. But that wasn’t all. I saw plates covered with congealed blood piled beside the sink. On the table, still set from someone’s last meal, sat a plate. On the plate lay bones. Like the plates at the sink, they were smeared with congealed blood. The meat eaten at that table had been raw. Raw meat. No knife and fork to be seen. The food had been eaten with the diner’s fingers. Part civilized – part savage.

‘She’s been living here,’ I said.

‘Shelby?’ said Kay.

‘Yeah.’

‘These are animal bones,’ said Misfit. He had ventured further into the room than me and stood at the kitchen table with a dried bone held in his hand. ‘Fox. And,’ he gazed around the room, ‘squirrels, rabbits… more foxes…’

‘It’s definitely her,’ I said.

‘So she really is healing just like Sara did,’ said Kay. ‘She’s healed enough to remember to use a plate.’

‘It’s like you can see her evolution,’ I said. ‘From eating the remains of Toby to switching to animals to evolving to eat from the floor to off a plate at the table.’

‘But how’d she get the meat?’ asked Kay.

‘Do you think it’s possible she caught it?’ I said.

‘If she’s able to hunt, it shows she’s able to take care of herself, that she’s reached a level of independence,’ said Misfit.

‘Either that or someone’s looking after her. Which means they could be here – in the cottage, right now,’ said Kay.

That feeling of being an intruder again, that someone could be here in the house with us right at that moment.

‘This last meal was eaten a while ago,’ said Misfit. I turned and saw him nod at the plate and the dried bones on the table. ‘That’s not fresh blood. Whether she’s being looked after by someone or not, I don’t think they’ve been here for weeks, maybe months.’

‘She has to be here,’ I said. I glanced at the kitchen door leading out to the hall, and then back to the others. ‘She has to be.’

Misfit raised a hand and placed it on my forearm. ‘Let’s check the place,’ he said, giving my arm a squeeze.

My heart sunk a little lower as we moved from room to room, finding each one empty. Shelby wasn’t anywhere in the cottage. Heartbroken, we returned to the kitchen.

‘What do you think happened to her?’ asked Kay.

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I mean, where would she have gone?’

‘Maybe she’d healed enough to decide to go and look for survivors,’ said Misfit. ‘Maybe some survivors came by and she had enough mental capacity and basic instinct to want to join them. I don’t know.’

‘Maybe she’s living in the land of summer, frolicking through meadows and singing with the bluebirds but, thing is,’ said Kay, ‘we’ve no idea where to go looking for her.’

I wanted to cry. I had lost Zombie-Shelby. There was a miracle wandering around somewhere but I had no idea where. Both Shelby and Sara were gone.  

February 18, 5pm

There’s not much to report over the last month. We decided to stay at the cottage – me, Misfit and Kay. It’s the place Shelby was familiar with and we hoped she would return eventually. We set about the grizzly task of clearing out all the bones, including Toby’s remains, and dumping them in the field out back, a good distance from the cottage. We scrubbed every trace of blood from the floor, kitchen table and work surfaces and we threw the used plates into black dustbin bags and chucked them outside. Once we were done in the kitchen, we settled into the cottage.

Luckily the rest of the cottage was as we left it. No signs of gnawed bones, human, animal or otherwise. No muck, no gore, no mess. Just dust. We eased ourselves back in and spent the ensuing days resting, thinking, hunting and staying hidden from the occasional zombie that wandered by from the overgrown fields surrounding the remote cottage. The strong fence that ran around the grounds allowed us to regain a limited sense of peace and security but there was no solace in it. Too many people had died. And of those who still breathed, our minds had been broken.

The cottage may have had only two bedrooms – comfortably housing Kay in one room and me and Misfit in the other – but we rattled around in it at first, having had to share it with quite a crowd last time me and Kay were here. But we soon got used to having our own space.

I stood looking out the kitchen window at the weed infested patch of land that used to be a vegetable garden.

‘We can get it growing again, can’t we?’ I said to Misfit as he sidled up next to me and put his arm around my waist.

He followed my gaze. There was no evidence that the overgrown mess used to be a veg patch but he replied, ‘Sure we can. It’ll be time to start sowing seeds. We’ll have to keep them inside for now. I’ll see if I can find any seeds stored somewhere here, if not, we’ll find some in the nearest town.’

‘Chepstow,’ I said.

‘Huh?’

‘It’s the nearest town.’

‘Oh. OK.’ Misfit pulled me closer to his side and I lay my head on his shoulder. ‘We should start preparing the soil out there,’ he added. ‘Get the land ready for planting.’

‘Something to look forward to,’ I said, turning to look at his profile.

‘Yep. Something to look forward to,’ said Misfit and he turned and kissed me on my forehead. ‘We’ve a lot to look forward to now, babe. The worst is over.’

February 23, 9pm

We’re sat in the living room as I write this, me and Misfit snuggled up on the sofa and Kay on the armchair next to the roaring fire. We found some seeds in an old biscuit tin in the kitchen and have began to plant them in pots that we’re keeping in sunny spots around the house. With the tools we found in a shed out back, we’ve started to clear the original veg patch of weeds and grass and turn the soil. Misfit made some structures for runner beans to climb. It’s tiring, backbreaking work but it’s honest and it’s already looking pretty good out there.

I’ve been watering the seeds everyday and peering at the surface of the rich potting compost looking for any signs of shoots. I know it’s too soon but, well, it’s exciting… new life. And it’s not like there’s any TV to watch.

I’m aching all over. Funny, I don’t ache at all after killing zombies, but I do a bit of gardening and I’m all,
Oh ah
at every move. I guess it’s when you use muscles you’re not used to using.

Because we found the seeds here, and because Misfit has been hunting and foraging, and because we have a well for water at the cottage, we’ve so far been able to avoid venturing into town. We may not have the veg garden up and running yet and we might still be in the grips of chilly winter but due to Misfit knowing what he is doing we’ve been able to accompany our fresh fox and rabbit meat with wild garlic, dandelions and nettles as well as some leeks that we found thriving in the veg patch.

I can’t get used to it being so quiet. Not yet, but perhaps I will. Misfit is running his fingertips up and down my spine beneath my t-shirt, as I write and the sensation, combined with the warmth from the fire is comforting and relaxing. Kay’s staring off into space right now, and I can’t quite tell if the glint in her eye is the reflection of the flames or if it’s the glint of restlessness.

February 27, 5pm

So, as I mentioned, we’d managed to avoid heading into town. We have pretty much everything we need right here, at the cottage. And what we don’t have, Misfit can hunt and forage for. Well, that was until a little something came up.

‘I’m late,’ I said to Misfit as we worked on the veg patch. Kay was in the kitchen cleaning her axe.

‘What for?’ asked Misfit. He was on his haunches, pulling small stubborn weeds from around the edge of the plot. I was half endeared by his innocent remark and half annoyed by it.

‘Late – my
period
, dumb arse,’ I said, a little exasperated.

Misfit stopped what he was doing, his hand still clenched around a weed, and glanced up at me. ‘You’re joking,’ he said.

‘Yeah, cos I’d, like, totally joke about something like that.’

Misfit stood and edged over to me. He came to a stop in front of me, his hands wavering, looking like he didn’t quite know how to touch me now – now that I could be two people in one.

‘How late?’ Misfit settled on not touching me at all and he stood opposite me with his hands at his sides. I noticed him glance down at my belly.

‘I don’t know. I was always between 27 and 32 days, but I haven’t really been keeping a record during the apocalypse. But I know I haven’t had one for a while. And I feel weird.’

‘How so?’ asked Misfit, cocking his head as he gazed at me.

‘Um, sort of light headed and a bit nauseous. And I have a strange taste in my mouth, like all coppery. I feel… tingly…’

‘Pregnant?’

‘I don’t know. I could be. I’m sorry.’

‘Fuck.’ That’s what he said, ‘Fuck.’ Then he turned and darted off. I watched as he sprang over the fence and sprinted off through the fields. I stood watching until he disappeared from sight.

11pm

I was up in our bedroom when he came back. I’d told Kay I wasn’t feeling too good and I wanted to be on my own. She asked me where Misfit was. ‘Hunting,’ I’d managed to say and I bombed it up the stairs and into my room as a wave of nausea hit me.

When he came back he stood in the doorway looking like he was wondering if I was about to throw something at him. But I wasn’t.

‘I’d run away too if I could,’ I said. I lay on the bed on my side, hugging a pillow but I sat up as I spoke.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Misfit. He shook his head. ‘I don’t know what came over me. Well, I do but…’

‘But what?’

‘It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic.’

‘What the fuck, Misfit?’

‘It’s just, I never knew my dad. The only dad I knew was Caine and he was a sadistic bastard. I have no experience of what a dad should be like. I ran because I thought what if I fuck it up?’

I stood up. ‘For fuck’s sake,’ I said, striding across the room to stand in front of Misfit. ‘You ran off and left me for hours because you’re worried about whether you’ll be a good dad or not? I was worried sick about you, Misfit! I thought you’d been attacked. I thought you were dead!’ I lashed out and hit him in the chest. He didn’t try and stop me. He just stood there and took it. ‘But all the time you were having a blood Jeremy Kyle moment!’

‘Sophie I–’

‘Whether you’ll be a good dad or not is not the bloody issue,’ I said, cutting him off. ‘Have you any idea how sorry I am this has happened?’ I burst into tears as all the fight flooded out of me.

Misfit flung his arms around me and hugged me to his thin but strong body but I remained rigid in his arms. ‘Sorry? What are you sorry for?’ he said into my ear.

‘We can’t have a baby,’ I said.

‘Why not?’

I pulled away from Misfit so I could see his face. I wiped the tears from my cheeks with my fingers. ‘It’s the zombie apocalypse,’ I said. ‘The end of the world. This is no time for having babies.’

‘Who says?’ said Misfit, his eyes boring deep into mine. I noticed he was smiling. ‘It’s only the end of the world if we let it be. We’ve survived this long. We’re somewhere safe and secure. I can get us what we need. We have water right here. We’ll have food to harvest come spring and summer. We can make this work, Sophie. You, me and a baby, and Kay of course. We can have a good, safe life here. And that’s what I realised while I was gone – I can offer the baby all that. I can be a good dad. We can do this.’

‘Really? You’re mental.’

‘I’m mental for wanting something that’s a basic and natural human instinct? It’s the instinct of survival, Sophie. We, as humans, need to breed. And besides, fuck it, Soph, I love you.’

‘I know, but… but bringing a child into this. It’s such a responsibility.’

‘It always has been a responsibility,’ said Misfit. ‘We’ll be good parents, Sophie. Apocalypse or not.’

‘I’m scared.’

‘You don’t need to be. You’ve got me. You’ve both got me.’ Misfit placed a hand on my stomach.

‘But I don’t know for sure,’ I said. ‘This could be a false alarm.’

‘I’ll head into town and pick up a test. Then we’ll know for sure.’

Misfit was smiling – beaming in fact.

‘I’ll come too,’ I said.

‘I don’t want you out there,’ said Misfit, his tone firm. ‘Not now.’

‘Misfit, if I am pregnant, you can’t keep me locked in here. I have to be allowed to be the person I was before. If you’re going into town, I’m coming too.’

Misfit gazed at me, his arms loosely around my waist. After a while he said, ‘Well, whether you come with me or not, let’s not do it today, OK? Let’s enjoy the thought that there could be a new life on the way.’ He placed his hand back onto my stomach.

‘There might not be.’

‘And if there’s not, well, maybe we could think about it as a serious option. I love you, Sophie. I want a life with you. A future. I want to make it work with you. I don’t want this apocalypse to take everything from us. It took our past but don’t let it take our future, or our children’s future.’

I stared at Misfit, stunned. I mean, this was big. Misfit wanted a future with me – he wanted children with me! I wanted to squeal! I remembered how I had felt when Sam asked me to marry him. I had been shocked by my reaction. I said yes out of fear of hurting his feelings, not because I wanted to say yes. My doubt had grown but I hadn’t had the courage to call it off. But with Misfit, I had no doubts. I wanted to be his and for him to be mine and for us to breed and set roots and do all the things couples are supposed to do. Yes, the zombie apocalypse presented a bit of a challenge but it would not stop us.

It would only make us stronger.

I leaned in and kissed Misfit on the lips. ‘I love you,’ I said. ‘I always will.’

February 28, 10pm

We didn’t head into town today, either. My increasingly tingly breasts and need to pee more frequently suggested that I was likely to be pregnant, so we decided to stay in our happy little expectant parent bubble for a little bit longer. I know hormones can be funny. I have missed a period before. I’ve even felt a little odd before. But then everything would go back to normal. I mean, I’ve never been pregnant before so I don’t really know what it feels like. I’m just going on what I’ve heard other women say. Not that I’ve ever spoken to that many pregnant women about how it feels – none actually. I haven’t had a lot of experience of pregnant woman in my life. But I think that’s how it’s supposed to feel, isn’t it? Tingly, nausea, frequent need to wee, your brain goes all squiffy and you do things like put the milk in the oven instead of the fridge…

I couldn’t help telling Kay. Me and Misfit had discussed keeping it quite until we knew for sure, but I couldn’t stop myself.’

‘Oh my god. Yay!’ said Kay, once the look of disbelief and shock disappeared from her face. ‘That’s fantastic news… isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Yes it is. But we don’t know for sure, so…’