Flu (10 page)

    "Listen, love…" Lark said, "We had to leave you in there for three days. That's all there is to it."

    "Why th-three?!" she blubbered, her lanky upper body seeming to cover the entire table as she rested her over-tired head upon it.

    "Because that's what they said on the news," McFall interjected, knowingly. "There's a… can't remember what they called it… but it's the 'period' between catching the flu to actually showing signs of having… er… caught it. Something like that, anyway…"

    Geri continued to cry, her sobs becoming gradually less frantic. Lark noticed how tall she was and how red her hair seemed. Although he knew it wasn't possible within the brave new world they now lived in, Lark would have guessed that Geri had dyed her hair, such was the richness of colour. It should have been greasy, smelly, lank and sticking to her head, but instead it was radiant. Oddly, he found himself wondering if she'd found some shampoo in the cupboards of the patio. He also realised just how attractive he found her to be.

    McFall, in particular, seemed embarrassed by her tears, scared even. Yet, in reality, Lark, too, was no fan of emotional outbursts like this. He certainly couldn't have boasted sensitivity as one of his strong points in the old world, and his tolerance for such certainly hadn't improved any in the new one.

    But neither man need have worried, of course. Unknown to them, they were being played like fiddles, as the saying went. The sobbing stopped, giving way to gentle laughter. It was as much of a surprise as it was a short-lived relief to the two men.

    Lark looked to McFall, baffled. The older man looked back, shrugging his shoulders the way he always did.

    "Are you okay, doll?" Lark asked, smiling and moving towards her, carefully. He was beginning to think she was infected, after all, with some kind of 'Mad Cow' strain of the virus. He'd heard about that one on television, just before people began to be
actually
worried about the whole thing. A few comedians were, as was the norm, taking the piss out of the news reports, throwing a comedic twist on some of the tests that were being carried out on the first few victims. One sketch featured a man with antlers on his head scratching his chin and trying to decide what box to tick from a choice of different types of flu, including 'swine', 'bird', 'dog' and 'mad cow.'

    Her laughing continued, getting louder by the second. It was as if she were watching the sketch that was playing back in Lark's head. He moved closer to her, rather tentatively (lest the Mad Cow symptoms present aggressively). Just as he was within reaching distance of her, she suddenly sat up, pointing the revolver which McFall had left at the table at both men.

    "Jesus Christ," Lark said, stepping back and reaching his hands into the air, automatically.

    He looked over at McFall, curious that he seemed uncharacteristically calm. In the short time he'd known McFall, he'd pretty much written him off as the most nervous, and perhaps useless, individual he'd ever met.

    But McFall didn't move, seemingly unconcerned by the gun pointing at him.

    "It's not loaded," he chuckled, "I took all the bullets out."

    "Bullets like
this one?"
Geri spat, holding a shell in her hand for them to see.

    "C-come on, now," stammered Lark, "Let's-"

    "Shut up!" yelled Geri, switching to point the gun straight at him, "Shut the FUCK up!"

    "Okay!" said Lark.

    McFall moved beside him, starting to doubt himself, such was her venom.

    "It
couldn't
be loaded," he said. "I'm sure I took the bullets out."

    "A-all of them?" Lark asked, nervous sweat breaking across his forehead. He knew McFall was a useless cunt, but surely he wasn't
that
useless.

    "Keys to the patio," Geri said, smiling.

    It was an indulgently malicious smile.

    "Oh, no," Lark said.

    "Oh, fucking yes," Geri replied, grabbing the keys from his hand.

    It had literally been weeks since Geri had enjoyed a good wash, and months since she'd been able to soak in a nice, hot bath. But both of these things had been made possible through the wonders of a camping cooker. Arduously, she'd spent the best part of the afternoon boiling up large pots of water before tossing the contents into the bath. A little bit of bubble foam from the bathroom cabinet put the cherry on top of what was going to be a very fine cake, indeed.

    She lay in the water like a veritable Cleopatra, bubbles kissing her exposed skin like tiny fairies. Her eyes were closed, her lips open as she gently breathed in the wonderful Eucalyptus aroma from the foam bath. Thick clouds of scented steam escaped from the nearby open window. She watched the mist as it disappeared, remembering her science teacher's explanation of how water, when it got hot, converted to steam. She decided it was going to be her omen, her sign from the Great

    Gods of Bathwater that things were going to change, that her boat was about to finally come in, as it were.

    She picked up the little hand mirror from the side of the bath, noticing a layer of the steam had coated the glass. Carefully, Geri used her finger to write on its smooth, cold surface. She inscribed the words 'I will survive' in honour of her moment of random optimism. Smiling, she thought back to her eighteenth birthday. Being lean and finely featured had not always been welcome attributes to Geri McConnell. At school, other kids were constantly sniffing out weaknesses amongst their peers, like predatory cats. The corridors of her sixth form college were rampant with 'social Darwinism', as her old science teacher might have said. It was 'survival of the fittest' all day, every day, and being both tall (read 'gangly') as well as ginger (read 'freak') had very obvious drawbacks to a teenage girl's self esteem. But she had made it through to the other end of the year group, scoring moderately good results in her A-Level exams, despite the challenges brought by peer pressure. At her eighteenth birthday, she remembered hearing Gloria Gaynor's 'I Will Survive' and really
feeling
it. She
had
survived.

    The healing water lapped against the superficial wounds on her shoulder and foot, soothing the now- dulled pain. She was practically dozing, such was her calm state. It was a little taste of heaven within the very pit of hell, but she reminded herself just how much she deserved it. Especially after all the shit she had put up with at the hands of those monkeys in the patio. She laughed to herself, thinking back on how she'd fooled them. The revolver
hadn't
been loaded. She had been bluffing, just as they had suspected. The bullet she showed to them was the one from her pocket, the one she had found in the cubby hole. She had tricked them. Sure, the gun was loaded now, and it had taken her quite a while to work out just how to do that.
Thank God for cowboy movies,
she whispered to herself, smiling.

    Geri stretched her long body out, enjoying the fact that she didn't have to think or plan her next move. She was sick of all of that. From now on, she was going to live in the here and now. This bath, this bathroom, this house. That's as far as it went for her, now, and that's as far as it was going to go for her in the future. It looked pretty hopeless out there, anyway. The dead were everywhere, now, their tediously large numbers seemingly increasing by the day. It was becoming almost impossible to venture outside the house. In fact, she reckoned they would soon try to find a way in themselves. Sure, the house was locked up and secure enough with its heavy door and grilled windows. But there was the patio around the back. The wooden fencing in the back garden kept them out, for now, but it was only a matter of time before they were thick enough, in numbers, to command the brute force needed to break right through. And once through, the patio was just a big greenhouse, really.

    But, no - she wouldn't think of those things…

    (I will survive)

    She would only think of nice things, things she remembered from the good ol' days. Things that made her happy. Things that made her feel like a woman, again.

    Geri had been a pampered girl, in days gone by. Daughter of a financially shrewd entrepreneur father and school teacher mother, she grew up to be some kind of hybrid of the two, pragmatic and careful like her mother. Sharp-witted and loose-tongued like her father.

    At the tender age of twenty-one, sick of the pampering, she'd set off travelling, Daddy's credit card in the back pocket of her jeans. Two years later, she returned, worldly-wise but forty-grand in debt. Her daddy dearest wasn't thrilled that she hadn't called her mother once in all of that time, caring less about the maxed-out credit card. Of course, none of that mattered then any more than it mattered now. Geri was welcomed back into the family home as if she'd never been away.

    She set to work off the debt, insisting on such, regardless of how much her father protested. She worked for his company, learning the do's and definitely-do's of business, honing the maverick skills that her father was renowned for. Of course her quasi-supermodel looks made things a little easier for her. She flashed what needed to be flashed in order to get ahead in a world supposedly ruled by chauvinistic men but ultimately
overruled
by a sharp-witted bitch such as her. It was those days that she harked back to, even now. The days when she felt special. The days when she felt in control. The days when she felt sexy.

    A casual wipe of the little hand mirror, now perched at the end of the bath, revealed the kind of woman she was now. A parched, poorly slept pallor glared back at her. Rings around her eyes and an under-fed jaw line made her look like some kind of overgrown EMO. She poked the big toe of her good foot over the water to knock the mirror off the bath.
Won't be needing that, thank you very much!
she thought.

    A sound from outside startled her. It was the sound of an engine - most likely a car engine. It seemed to have stopped right outside the house.

    Geri quickly pulled herself out of the bath. She grabbed the towel gown she had found in one of the bedrooms, throwing it over her still wet, soapy skin.

    Unable to see clearly through the bathroom window, without drawing further attention to herself, Geri crept, carefully, into the nearby bedroom. She peeked out onto the street taking care to remain under cover of the curtains.

    The sight which greeted her made her tummy flutter.

    A police Land Rover was parked in the middle of the road, surrounded by the dead.

    Her boat had come in.

    Geri ran into the bedroom, slowing to a quick hop as her foot screamed at her. She pulled on her clothes as fast as she could. Once dressed, she speed-limped into the bathroom, retrieving the mirror that she had kicked onto the floor. She fumbled about, quickly, with make-up before rolling her hair into a towel and moving downstairs. All of this was done in just under five minutes, spaced between continuous peeks out the window to make sure her would-be saviours hadn't left.

    Geri could hear muffled shouting from the patio, but she ignored it. She proceeded into the living room, opening the curtains, wide, and waving out to the Land Rover. There was no sign of life; the dead still completely surrounding the vehicle. She waved, again, hoping to catch the attention of whoever was inside the vehicle.

    A single hand appeared out of the vehicle's nearest window, pointing, sternly, to suggest that Geri should move out of sight. Geri did as the hand suggested, ducking behind the curtains while still remaining transfixed on the scene developing before her eyes.

    Before long, a formidable looking rifle with a long, black nozzle appeared out of the vehicle. It aimed at the nearest dead body, firing, silently, to tear a sizable strip along the top of the thing's head, sending it to the ground.

    Three more bodies, as if drawn to the muzzle like flies around a light bulb, shuffled over to investigate. One of them reminded Geri of a work colleague, similarly dressed and styled as the woman she used to know. It unnerved Geri to think that those weren't just anonymous monsters out there, that they could very well be her friends, her neighbours… her family? A second and third blast took out Geri's work colleague with relative ease, the neat jets of blood from the falling body spraying the vehicle's familiar white pallor like pinstriping.

    Another rifle could be seen protruding from the rear windows of the vehicle. It looked similar: long, black and shining in the sun. Just like the other, it flashed, quietly, efficiently disposing of several more of the dead, sniffing and shuffling around in an almost confused manner. Soon, the herd was thinned considerably, leaving the vehicle less densely surrounded. The two rifles disappeared back into the vehicle again.

    Several long, stalactite moments later, Geri noticed the doors of the Land Rover open, two men appearing, one from the rear and the other from the driver seat of the vehicle. One of the men, heavy set and dressed in full riot gear, pointed to the door as he moved, quickly, through the crowd of dead, using his baton to clear his way. His partner, similarly dressed but of leaner build, followed suit, carrying a large bag on his back. Both men ran for the door.

    Geri headed into the hallway, as directed. As she reached the front door, she realised that she hadn't got the key. She had never even considered that the door would be locked tight, thinking that she would be able to open it, easily, from the inside.

    "Fuck fuck fuck fuck!" she chanted, like some perverted mantra.

    The police were banging on the door, now, shouting. She could hear their voices. This would usually be an unwelcome thing, but with those two idiots in the patio being the only alternative to solitude, Geri was keen to get the boys in blue into the mix.

    Not sure how to achieve that, Geri changed direction, heading for the patio. She fumbled for the patio keys, grabbing the revolver off the kitchen table as she passed it.