The Cost of Living (9 page)

‘It
gets worse,’ he says, though I don’t know how it can.

This
time he takes me way behind the back of our house and the houses behind, all
the way to the copse of trees on the other side of the railings at the
outermost edge of the development, as far from the barrier we built as we can
get. Here too there are more bodies. It’s like a truck-load of mannequins have
been dumped behind the fence. Most of them remain motionless, but some are
twitching and juddering. The longer I watch, the more they start to move. I
think it must be a trick of the light, that they were moving all the time and I
just didn’t notice, but Nathan doesn’t think so. ‘They always do this,’ he
says.

‘Do
what?’

‘Start
waking up. It’s like they know we’re here. It’s like they can smell us.’

‘Bullshit,’
I say, but I know he’s right. There’s a face I was watching, one cheek pushed
into the ground, only half it’s vacant expression visible. I could have sworn
it wasn’t moving, but it is now. The one eye I can see is looking around, and
its mouth is beginning to open and close, dribbling gunk into the leaves and
dirt.

‘Are
they zombies?’ he asks, and the question makes him sound like a child again.

‘Depends
what you mean by zombies. If you’re talking
Night of the Living Dead
,
something like that, then I don’t think so. I don’t think they’re dead, do
you?’

‘No.
They can’t be. That wouldn’t make sense.’

‘Not
much of this makes sense, Nath. No, I reckon the virus has slowed them down,
maybe taken them to a point near death, and that’s where they’ve stayed. When
they see or hear us, whatever it is that’s controlling them starts working
again. It’s all about spreading the infection. I still reckon in a few months
they’ll all be properly dead, if you get what I mean. By then it should be safe
for us to come outside again.’

‘But
who says the germ dies when they die?’

I
can’t answer him, so I don’t waste time trying.

There’s
a high bank in the trees behind the development. There are more infected up
top, though Christ alone knows how they got there. They’re not in any great
numbers, but there’s enough all the same. I don’t know whether they’re reacting
to us, or reacting to the reaction of the germ-filled figures closest to us. A
couple of them lose their footing and start falling down the bank and,
bizarrely, others start throwing themselves down after them. It’s surreal: an
ex-human avalanche adding to the drift of flesh already pressed up against the
railings. The damn things are unaffected by anything that happens to them. I
see bones break as they fall down the incline, hear limbs snapping as they hit
rocks and trees, but nothing fazes them. Their injuries go unnoticed. All
they’re interested in is getting closer to us.

‘They’re
reacting to us being here,’ I tell Nathan.

‘No
shit.’

‘We
have to get back to the house.’

‘I’m
sick of that bloody house.’

‘Mind
your language, son.’

‘Mind
my language? Come on, Dad... seriously? The world’s dead, we’re probably all
that’s left, and you’re having a go at me for swearing? Fuck’s sake.’

He’s
gone before I have chance to pull him back into line. I let it go this time.
Getting to safety is more important than anything else.

STUART

TUESDAY 30 JUNE – 3:09am

The screaming
starts just after three and I’m up like a shot, Gabby right behind me.
Everything is pitch-black: black-out blinds and boards at the windows, all
candles and lamps put out. We feel our way through the house to get to Sally.
The place is like an obstacle course, stuff everywhere. She’s sitting bolt
upright in bed, still screaming non-stop. I try to hold her but she pushes me
away. She’s soaked through. Gabby has more success. I find a torch then light a
lamp so she can see it’s just us. And now the bloody baby’s started. Hannah’s
screaming too.

‘What’s
the matter, love?’ Gabby asks her, holding her tight and stroking her head.

‘It
was that little girl,’ she says. ‘She wants to play.’

#

We don’t go back
to bed. I strip Sally’s bed while Gabby settles her in ours. She’s okay. It was
just a dream, though I knew that anyway. I watched that kid smash her own head
in trying to get at us. She’s where we left her.

Gabby
and I sit in silence downstairs. Maybe we know that any conversation will be
difficult. Maybe there’s nothing left to say. Eventually, she speaks.

‘We
can’t go on like this.’

‘We
can
and we
will
.’

‘Just
listen to what you’re saying, Stu. Just for a second, stop talking and
listen
.
Think it through.’

‘I
have.’

‘I’m
not so sure.’

‘What
do you mean by that?’

‘What
do you think I mean? Have we made a mistake here?’

‘Don’t
talk crap...’

‘I’m
not.’

‘You
are
. I’m doing what I have to do.’

‘You’re
doing what you think you have to do. There’s a difference. Is it all going to
be worth it? All this effort, all this hurt... what are we trying to achieve?’

And
I just look at her sitting across the room with her head in her hands, only her
outline visible in the first light of dawn.

‘For
Christ’s sake, Gabby, just listen to what you’re saying. Think about the
alternatives. Have you seen the infected? Can you imagine our kids ending up
like that? Believe me, love, I’ve done everything I can to protect you all from
the very worst of this. Outside this development it’s hell on Earth. We don’t
have any choice. We have to see this through.’

NATHAN

THURSDAY 9 JULY – 7:14am

My dad’s a
fucking idiot.

He
doesn’t have a fucking clue what’s going on here. Fucking dick. He thinks I
don’t know what’s happening, but I do. He might be able to stop Mum from asking
too many questions, but I know more than he thinks. He’s not the only one who
can walk around the estate at night when no one else is watching. Prick. And he
reckons
he’s
going to protect
us
from the infected? Fuck’s sake,
I walked two steps behind him a couple of nights ago and he didn’t even know I
was out there with him. If I’d been one of them, he’d be dead.

He’s
got no fucking backbone.

He’s
not surviving here, he’s just
hiding
. And I don’t reckon he’s ever going
to come out.

It
makes me fucking sick. You know, he comes out with all this survival stuff, but
it’s just bollocks he’s seen on TV. Bear Grylls and all that shite he used to
sit and watch for hour after hour on the Discovery channel. He just doesn’t get
it. There’s a whole world out there, so why just limit ourselves to this place?
I know it’s the family home and Mum and Dad are proud of the house and
everything, but it’s a bit late for all that now. We’d be better off at the top
of a tower block, I reckon. Or a prison... somewhere strong like that or maybe
somewhere out in the country. Not here, though. Not in a normal house, pretty
much right next-door to the city centre. Dad’s always coming out with these
clichés about thinking outside the box and seeing the bigger picture, but he’s
the one with tunnel vision. I read this book once about a bloke who built a
bomb shelter next to his house. The nukes went off, and the house collapsed on
top of the shelter, blocking his way out. Tried to tell Dad about it, but he
was too busy rearranging the shit in the garage for about the hundredth time to
listen to anything I had to say.

I’ve
been watching the fences. I’ve been watching them better than he has. I know
what to do.

There’s
a gap. Over the garage that belongs to the small house down by the offices near
the front of the estate, then down between two parked cars, over a gate and I’m
away. It’s a kind of channel, and those sick fucks outside can’t get through.
They can’t climb, can’t jump... can’t do anything but drag themselves around. I
reckon I’ll be okay as long as I keep moving. So I ripped a map out of this old
road atlas Dad had, and I worked out a route that’ll get me from here right
into the heart of the city. There has to be other people there, other people
like us who aren’t infected. It’s only a few miles. I can do it in a day. And
if there’s no one there, well then I’ll just head out of the city and into the
country.

As
soon as I find other survivors, I’ll bring them back here. I don’t hate my
family, really I don’t, I just can’t stand being with them right now, not like
this. If I can get away from here then get back safely, if I can prove to Dad
that there’s hope somewhere other than this fucked-up, dead-end hole, then that
changes everything.

Nearly
two months we’ve been locked up here. Two months too long. I know they won’t
understand – they won’t even listen – so I’m just gonna do it
anyway.

I’ve
been hoarding my rations for a few days so I know I’ve got enough to last until
I find more. I bag it all up, then put on my wetsuit and all the other
protective stuff I’ve got left, the goggles and the facemask... the whole deal.
I even use tape to seal the gaps, just like he showed me.

I’m
standing on the green now, looking at the excuse of a barricade me and the old
man made.

Tell
you something... it’s fucking scary out here. I mean, I’m gonna do it, but I’m
scared. That’s good. I read this book about how being scared is a positive
thing, how it keeps you alert and on the edge, and I’m going to have to be like
that today and from here on in.

No
turning back.

The
idea of staying here is worse than the thought of leaving.

I
do it before I can talk myself out of it.

#

See, I was
right.

I’ve
been running for about quarter of an hour now, long enough to get over a mile
from home, long enough to get used to the pace. My legs feel fine. It’s really
hot already, though. Going to need loads to drink.

I
haven’t seen any of them yet. Plenty of them dead on the ground, but none
moving. Dad says the disease is only spread through direct contact, so as long
as I stay away from the bodies I should be fine. There’s gonna be loads of food
around here, loads of places to shelter...

I
don’t know if I’m going the right way. It all looks different on foot. I used
to get the bus this way with my mates, but I reckon I might have taken a wrong
turn and not noticed. It’s okay, because I know I’ll end up in the city centre
if I keep going this way, I’d just rather follow the route I planned.

Wonder
what’s happened to Mikey? He lived up here. His house was half way down that
road I just passed. There’s a part of me wants to go and see, but I can’t. Too
dangerous. He might be okay, but he’s probably one of them now. Fuck me, that’s
a scary thought... thinking about Mikey all sick and twisted like that makes me
feel really uneasy. I don’t like it.

Remember
those films? There was that
I am Legend
with Will Smith, remember that?
Shit film I know, but that’s me now. I’m the one who survived. I’m the last man
on Earth. Always thought it would feel different to this though. It’s kinda
frightening. There’s a lot of responsibility. No Mum or Dad around now. Just
me. Everything starts and ends with me.

And
I’ve definitely fucked up with my directions.

I
was trying to go around the centre of Northfield, not through it.

Now
I’m right in the middle of the place, right in the middle of all the shops, and
I’m thinking I should go back and work out where I went wrong. I keep getting
distracted ’cause there’s loads of bodies here. I mean, I’m used to it and they
don’t bother me like they used to, but it’s still weird seeing so many of them
like this. You start giving them stories, start trying to work out who they
might have been and what they were doing when it got them, wondering if you
knew them or if they knew you...

I
slow down, then stop. I get out the map and try to work out where I am. I
remember Dad getting lost on the way to somewhere once and he said the first
thing you’ve gotta do is stop. If you keep going, chances are you’ll just get
yourself more and more confused. A rare nugget of common-sense from the old
man.

I
wish all this had happened a couple of years from now, though. I’d have been
driving by then. I mean, I could try and get a car going, but if I—

Wait.

What’s
that?

I
look around, sure I heard something. Then I see a rubbish bin rolling around in
the wind, and when it moves it makes the noise I heard. Shit, that was frigging
scary. My heart’s thumping. I need to calm down.

Hang
on.

No,
that’s not right.

I
need to get a grip here.

There’s
a body right in front of me, facedown on the pavement, head turned away, and I
swear it’s moved. But there’s hardly anything left of it.

I
take a couple of steps forward, trying to see if it was a man or a woman. It’s
weird how they all look the same now... all thin and scrawny and greasy and
covered in dirt and shit and—

Fuck
me!

The
fucking thing swings its arm up and over like it’s trying to swim. It doesn’t
look up, doesn’t even move its head, it just digs its fingers into the tarmac
and starts trying to pull itself along...

Fuck.
Is it trying to get to me?

I
take a couple of steps back and the sound of my boots on the ground seems to
excite it. It lifts up its head, neck twisting in ways it shouldn’t, and I know
all it wants is to infect me. Its mouth hangs open and thick brown spit starts
dripping out all over the place. It’s like its mouth’s watering, like it’s
hungry.

Shit.
There are a couple more of them starting to move now. I shouldn’t have stopped
here. There’s one up ahead that definitely wasn’t there a few seconds ago. It’s
standing upright, head twitching, and even though I don’t think it can see me,
I know it knows I’m here.

Breaking
glass.

There
are two of them in a shop across the way. One’s gone arse-over-tit and managed
to fall through a window, and the fucking thing’s almost cut itself in half.
Its innards are everywhere and I think I’m gonna be sick. But I can’t. I can’t
throw up in this mask and I can’t take it off, so I just try and breathe slow
and stay calm, but it’s hard because the other one is coming my way, its feet
slipping in the cut-up one’s spilled guts.

Another
one tries to get up but its legs are fucked. They’re fucking useless and I know
I can outrun them, but that’s not the point.

They’re
everywhere now... everywhere I look. Coming at me from out of nowhere. One
minute there’s nothing, then there they are. There’s a mound of rubbish that’s
built up outside the front of the bank Mum and Dad used to use. And I don’t see
it until it starts moving, but there’s one crawling out of the litter now. It’s
like the fucking thing’s been hibernating in a nest... waiting for someone like
me to come along...

The
door of a shop flies open with a creak and a scrape. Three of them trip out
into the light and start coming for me. Another one appears from an alleyway.

I
can do this. Just need to stay calm and keep moving.

Like
I said, I know I can outrun them. I’m walking now, and already I’m leaving them
behind. I’m still in control here. I’m better than them. I’m stronger than
them. Even though I’m scared, I’m still in control. A few seconds’ hard effort
and I’ll be away from here and I’ll have left them for dust.

One
distracts me when it lunges, and I trip on a kerb I didn’t see. I’m on my hands
and knees before I know what’s happening. I try to get up again but something’s
got hold of me. When I look back I see one of them right behind me, lying in
the road, holding onto my boot. Fucking thing’s weak, pretty much falling
apart, but it’s hanging onto my frigging boot like it’s the most important
thing in the world. And I know all it wants is to make me sick like them.
Nothing else matters.

I
kick the fucking thing in the face and start running again, weaving around
several more. I keep my pace steady, ’cause steady is fast enough and I don’t
know how long I’ll have to keep this up. Should I turn back and head home? Was
Dad right? When I look back over my shoulder, I know I don’t have any choice
but to keep going.

The
road behind me is full of infected, like some sick, germ-filled army. It’s like
something straight out of a zombie movie, but it’s a thousand times more
frightening ’cause this is real.

#

I stick to the
Bristol Road ’cause this was the way the bus used to take me into town and I
know it pretty well. I reckon I could probably find my way along the side
streets, but I’m not taking any chances.

I
look back and they’re still coming. Doesn’t matter how far I run, if they still
see me, they’ll just keep coming.

Up
ahead there’s a building site where there used to be a college. The gates are
locked but I manage to climb over and down the other side. I snag my trousers
on a nail and that makes me panic again, because there’s only these few layers
of clothes stopping me from getting infected. I just have to be careful.
Don’t
panic. Take it steady. Don’t panic.

My
guts are churning so food’s the last thing I want right now, but I know I’ll
need to eat and drink sooner or later. Thing is, can I risk taking off my
facemask? I know Dad said it was just the fluids that carry the infection, but
how do I know he’s right? What if I breathe it in if I get too close? We didn’t
get sick back at the house though, did we? I’ll just have to make sure I’m not
around any bodies when I eat. And I’ll have to check I haven’t got any of their
shit on me too.

This
place was going to be a massive old people’s home, some kind of retirement
village. There’s big billboards up everywhere with pictures of old folk. Some
parts look almost finished, other sections are just concrete and scaffolding
skeletons. It looks like a prison from here, and I think that’s a good thing.
Maybe I can stop and wait for the crowds to disappear? I look back through the
gate to check and they’re still coming for me. It’s like they’re moving in slow
motion. Their slow speed makes it more frightening, not less.

There’s
a site office: a load of metal cabins stacked on top of each other. I’ll look
in there. The door’s half-open. There might be some food or water, maybe a
vending machine, something like that.

I
go to open it but one of the infected comes at me from out of nowhere. How the
fuck did it get in here? It comes at me fast – too fast – and all I
can do is grab hold of its wrists. I bend its elbows back and lock them,
stopping it getting any closer, but I don’t know what else to do. It’s not as
strong as me, but the fucking thing won’t stop squirming. I’m remembering all
the films me and my mates used to watch and I’m thinking
this should be
fucking easy... just go for its head
... but it’s not that simple. Its head
keeps jerking back and there’s brown gunk running down its chin. I think it’s
trying to spit. It knows it’s not close enough and it’s trying to spit germs at
me instead.