The Undead Day Nineteen (11 page)

Ten

Lilly clutches her side and stops walking to bend double as the rain once again drenches her clothes and hair. ‘Wow that really hurts.’

‘Huh?’ Zayden asks, alarmed at the prospect of losing the thing he has been thinking non-stop about all day.

‘My ribs,’ Lilly winces, ‘I think Sierra broke one when she kicked me,’ she looks up, watching his face for reaction but seeing only a hint of disappointment. ‘I think my face is swollen too,’ she adds.

‘Oh,’ he says dumbly, ‘you’s be alright yeah.’

‘Zayden,’ she changes to a look of intense worry, ‘I’m really concerned…some of those people won’t live through this night,’ she sees the hardening in his eyes.

‘You’s coming to my room,’ he says, halfway between a question and a statement.

‘Yeah of course,’ she smiles quickly, ‘but I am so worried.’

He shrugs, unbothered and unable to think about anything else.

‘Never mind,’ she smiles again and stands upright to loop her arm through his, feeling his body tense and his tongue poke out to lick his already overly wet lips. His eyes staring straight at her top that is gathering the rain with the hope of it going see through again.

She walks on, breathing hard and holding her side. Making her breathing laboured and limping for a few steps, ‘It’s no good,’ she groans and blows air out through her cheeks, coming to another stop, ‘I need some painkillers…what room are you in?’

‘Like…up there,’ he nods past the hospital.

‘Oh great, you go on. I’ll get some painkillers and come straight…’

‘Nah, you’s got to come to my room…’

‘I am in so much pain, Zayden. I can hardly move.’

‘Yeah but…I’s got to stay with you.’

‘Zayden, I don’t think you understand how much pain I am in,’ she stands straight, wincing while adopting a soft expression. ‘I really want to enjoy tonight…’ Good Lord he is so slow witted. Just staring slack with his eyes constantly darting down to her chest. ‘Zayden, I am not running away…’ she laughs lightly, ‘where would I go? Please, I know you are a decent man. I’ll get some painkillers and join you…I’ll be a few minutes at the most…you go and get ready. Which rooms was it? That one up there? Is that right?’ She stands close to him, nestling her shoulder into his side.

‘Yeah…’ he swallows and licks his lips again, his mouth dry with excitement, ‘yeah that’s it.’

‘Five minutes,’ she says, staring with her blue unblinking eyes, ‘Is that okay?’

He nods. Full of lust. Full of promise.

‘Five minutes,’ she says again, veering off towards the hospital. ‘I’ll be right out…get ready for me.’

‘Christ,’ Doctor Anne Carlton stops mid-stride on seeing the soaking wet bruised girl walking into the room, ‘Lilly! What happened?’ She rushes forward past the ends of the beds full of patients re-drugged to keep them quiet and sleeping.

‘I’m fine,’ Lilly says primly, forcing herself to nod firmly, ‘I need some painkillers if I may?’ She asks politely, having noticed the armed youths on the inside of the door.

‘My god, you’re freezing,’ Anne says, gripping Lilly’s wrist and staring at the bruises already showing on her cheeks and forehead, ‘shit,’ she looks down and curses at the livid welt on Lilly’s upper arms.

‘Fell over,’ Lilly says, rolling her eyes, ‘can we talk?’ She adds in a whisper.

‘Come with me,’ Anne says brusquely and keeping hold of Lilly’s wrist she walks her down the aisle to the back offices.

‘Lilly!’ Lisa Franklin rises from her chair in shock at the sight of the girl, ‘What’s happened?’

‘Bloody hell,’ Andrew Stone adds to the concerned trio rushing to her side, ‘you’re hurt, come on sit down…’

‘Is Maddox awake?’ Lilly steels herself against the rush of kindness pouring from the doctors.

‘Don’t worry about Maddox, come on…sit down…’ Anne says, guiding her to Lisa’s now vacant chair.

‘No,’ Lilly comes to a stop, ‘I must know. Is Maddox awake?’

‘No, no he isn’t,’ Andrew says.

‘Any change? Will he wake up?’

‘No change. Lilly? What’s going on?’ He asks.

She stops to think. She has to know. She has to make this right in her own mind, ‘Is there anything you can do to wake him up?’

Andrew just stares at her with his face full of worry, ‘What’s happening out there? We’re not allowed out. We heard everyone is being made to work.’

‘Is Lenski with him?’

‘She’s been with him all day,’ Anne says adopting her doctor tone of voice, ‘now calm down and tell us what’s going on.’

‘I’m calm,’ Lilly says, fixing her a very steady look that sends a shiver running down Anne’s spine. ‘And yes,’ she adds, looking back to Andrew, ‘Sierra has made everyone work and won’t give food or shelter until everything is done.’

‘Is the wall fixed?’ Lisa asks.

‘No, she’s making everyone sleep outside in the rain without food. Doctors, I need to ask,’ she takes a breath, ‘are the weaker people and children at risk from being outside all night without shelter and food?’

‘Yes,’ Anne says brusquely, ‘Exposure. It’s warm but once the core body temperature goes down…’

‘Without food or motion you can’t stay warm,’ Andrew cuts in, ‘hypothermia can set in even in weather like this.’

‘I see,’ Lilly says. The sadness of it all strikes her heart but her path is set. There is no going back now. You do what it takes.

Eleven

She walks back down the main aisle of the hospital looking ahead to the two armed boys on the door grinning knowingly at her. News of her acceptance to fuck Zayden has spread like wildfire. Zayden is a spotty faced twat and Lilly is fit.

‘Alright, Lilly,’ one of them smirks.

She nods and twitches her lips but makes no reply as she walks past, through the door and out into the rain. She moves on. One step after the other.

You protect your own. You do what it takes. You do the right thing for the right reasons and sometimes that right thing is awful. Really truly awful but the threat is real and therefore you have to take the pain.

She saw her father killed. She saw her friend raped and killed. She saw others being killed. This new world renders life cheap and worthless but not all life is like that. The life of a child is pure and sacred. They are the future and they carry no sin from the life that was before. Billy. Milly. All the children gathered here. The boys Nick saved from the house. The others brought in to keep safe.

You do what must be done. Pain is just pain. You can take it.

Her eyes fix on the soft orange glow coming from the open doorway of the room set back further up from the hospital. Every youth she passes grins and smirks at her. She is giving herself to Zayden. They all know it. She might be doing it for food or favours but either way, she’s doing it.

She gets to the doorway and expected her heart to be hammering in fear. She expected her legs to be trembling and her voice to quaver. But she feels calm. Resolute. She stops and closes her eyes taking one last chance to think of her beautiful Nick. The way he spoke to her, the way a man should speak to a woman. The way he smiled. The touch of his hands on hers. The slender fingers. His strong arms. He’s out there now fighting to keep everyone alive. Through choice he has placed himself in harm’s way and so others may have freedom and life. You do the right thing and that ethos, that
essence
touched her. She holds his image close. Seeing into his soft brown eyes. The eyes of a killer.

For freedom. For life.

She opens her scared blue eyes and gently knocks on the door, ‘Zayden?’

‘Yeah,’ he rushes over, grinning and already flushed with lust. His top off showing his sallow upper body pock-marked with spots and the first few black hairs pushing out round his puffy nipples. She spots the swell in his trousers and hides the pain from her face.

‘Well,’ she smiles, ‘this is your room then?’

‘Got candles,’ he blurts, nodding eagerly.

‘Okay,’ she looks at him expectantly, ‘are you going to invite me in?’

‘Fuck yeah,’ he grunts, moving back from the door. She steps through. Noticing the filthy scavenged bare mattress on the ground and the two candles flickering to show the squalor of his romantic room. Cobwebs hang in the corners. Walls stained with grease and the stench of oil hanging heavy that mixes with the stale body odour coming from his unwashed armpits.

You do what must be done. You protect your own.

He rushes forward. Clumsy and eager. His hands grabbing at her breasts that squeeze painfully as he pushes his groin into her. She takes it for a second, pausing, letting him grope and thrust. A sickening feeling inside that builds with self-disgust. His head bangs into the painful bruises on her face. Every inch of her hurts. A wave of revulsion sweeps through and she pulls away.

‘Zayden,’ she whispers but he moves with her. Panting in her ear as his hands knead bread from her body, ‘Zayden,’ she pulls back, forcing herself to hide the disgust in her voice.

‘What?’ He grunts, his eyes as hard as his prick.

‘If I said no what would you do?’

‘Huh?’

‘If I said no, what would you do?’ He stalls for an answer. His mind too full of lust to compute anything other than the feel of her tits in his hands and the sense of urgency pushing in his groin. ‘Would you take me anyway?’

He nods and licks his lips making them overly wet, ‘yeah, gonna fuck you…’

‘If I said no, you would make me. Is that right?’

‘Yeah,’ he pants, leering as he drags her close. She goes with the pull. Sensing his mood and the edge of violence threatening to spill over. His hands go to work again. Kneading. Squeezing. Groping. Painful. His tongue licks her neck. His foul breath blasting across her face. Still she holds. Feeling his erection driving into her hip as he thrusts like a dog on heat.

Nick. Beautiful Nick.

He grunts. Thrusts. Squeezes. Licks. His hands squeeze the bruises on her arms. His face pushing into her swollen cheeks. His head butting into her black eye.

This is our way. Nick said that. We do the right thing.

Zayden gets rougher as the lust builds. His hands tugging her top up, grunting with frustration and the knowledge he can take what he wants. She lets him work. Letting him have what he wants, feeling his hand tugging the waistband of her jeans down.

You protect your own. Pain is just pain.

‘Off,’ Zayden grunts, pushing at her jeans, too stupid to realise they’re still done up.

‘In a rush?’ She tries to sound coy but the words come out whimpered and weak.

‘Fuck yeah…’ he snarls and a new idea comes into his mind, ‘You gonna blow me…’

She wants it. He can tell. His fingers fumble at his belt. Tugging to free the pin from the hole in the leather. He yanks it over, then pulls it free. His fingers moving to the button on his jeans. They get wrenched open and the zip pulled while he bends to push them down.

The pants come down and it stands out, pointing grotesque and disgusting towards her. She looks down, using every ounce of self-control not to show any adverse reaction but the terror is clear in her eyes. He gloats on the spot. His face flushed and blotchy.

She slowly drops to her knees, knowing what must be done, willing this to end, tears fall down her cheeks, ‘close your eyes now…’ she looks up, staring at his face, imploring this to end but he only sees her pretty blue eyes. ‘Zayden, close your eyes for me…’

He clamps his eyes shut and thereby at least giving her this awful second of her life some degree of privacy. The smell is disgusting. His body unwashed for days and a young man raging with hormones needs to wash. She fights the gag and turns her head in an effort to draw clean untainted air but her hair brushes against him and that single delicate touch makes his hands clamp on the back of her head and he thrusts his groin at her.

She reels back. Caught off guard. He thrusts again. His eyes still closed. She weaves away, sensing his frustration growing as his hard fingers dig into the back of her already painful head. It must be now. Do it. Lilly, you have to do it. She gets the object free from her pocket, bites the orange cap off and reaches round to drive the needle into the soft flesh of his buttocks and pushes the plunger down, forcing the clear liquid into his right arse cheek. He grunts, snapping his eyes open at the sensation in his backside.

‘Something bit you,’ she blurts, spitting the orange cap out. He scowls. Sensing something is wrong. His face morphing with lust fuelled rage. Why isn’t she doing it? It should be in her mouth by now. What’s that feeling in his backside? It feels hot like he’s shit himself.

He reaches round as she darts forward, desperate to keep his attention on her but he takes a step back as his fingers find the syringe to yank the hypodermic needle from his flesh. He stares down at the syringe and blinks.

‘What’s that?’ Lilly asks, buying time with a growing panic that the drug won’t work.

‘What the…’ he frowns and looks at Lilly, ‘what…what’s…’ the heat in his arse cheek spreads out, blossoming down his legs, through his groin and up his back.

Now. Do not hesitate. She lurches to her feet with eyes wild as she drags the scalpel from her pocket and lashes out to slice the surgically sharp blade across his neck but it barely whispers across his skin merely opening a shallow wound that oozes blood down his chest.

He reels back. His mind unable to process everything that’s happening. She lashes out, driving the attack forward with wild slashes, nicking his shoulders, arms and stomach. He swings an arm trying to hit her away but already the drug is in his body, making him weak and sluggish. Panic in his face and he draws breath to scream for help.

With a grunt she barrels into him, pushing him backwards into the edge of the mattress. His feet snag and he trips with her driving him down, knocking the air from his lungs. They land heavy. Bouncing on the sprung mattress. A fist hits her face hard enough for stars to blossom in her vision. With desperate panic she digs the point of the scalpel into his stomach, twisting her hand left to right to open the wound. He yelps and goes to scream but her other hand scrabbles up to clamp down on his mouth. He bites down, sinking his teeth into the fleshy part of her hand and she fights to not scream herself as she slides the short blade from his stomach and brings it up to dig deep into his neck. His eyes widen. Blood spurting hot and far across the floor and over the blue eyed girl staring down at him. She stabs again and again, puckering his flesh, gouging holes that spew hot blood.

He fights, bucks and thrashes but the powerful sedative gets pumped faster through his body. A combined effect of his heart increasing from the panic while his system loses blood faster than he can congeal or clot. His senses dull. His blows weaken. The blood flow eases and his eyes dim, gently closing as his hand thumps her side gently.

She clings on. Pushing her hand into his mouth, stabbing him frenzied and wild, willing him to die, wishing him to die, wanting him to die and through the crazed blur in her eyes she sees the very second his life fades from his open eyes.

Seeing him die drives her on. She stabs more. Driving the point in to ruin the flesh of his neck until it becomes flayed meat ragged and worthless. She grunts from the exertion. Sweat pouring down her face already soaked from the rain outside.

On her feet and she stares down at his form. His dead murdered form. Rage pulses now. Pure unbridled rage that seethes cold and wonderful. She has taken life. She has killed. She was pushed to the limit and killed in defence. The scalpel gripped in her hand drips blood and she kicks hard into his groin. Knowing he is dead but wishing the pain to be sent to whatever afterlife he now haunts.

She wipes a bloodied hand across her face and spits to the side. With her chest heaving and eyes set she turns slowly to face the door.

Move fast. Do not hesitate.

Still her mind works fast and she looks round for his assault rifle. Not here. He must have handed it over to whoever is guarding the others. She snuffs the candles out and in the darkness she feels down the wall to the frame of the door and gently eases the handle down.

She pulls gently, easing the door open an inch at a time. The rain is still hammering down with a thousand different drums sounding as the water strikes a myriad of flat surfaces.

She steps out in one smooth motion and pulls the door closed behind her. The whole of the fort is dark and visibility is reduced by the rain coming down. Only the orange lights of the rooms in use show. Far to her right are the police offices. The survivors huddled together far to the left. She stares ahead. Eyes unblinking. Scalped gripped.

She sets off. Heading directly across the middle open ground of the fort with the scalpel held down by her leg. She can only just see the sides from the middle which means the crews won’t be able to see her.

The rain comes heavy. The night is dark. All these things have been calculated and thought about but now the rage drives her on. Rage that is needed. Pure beautiful anger that pulses like a wild animal thrashing inside to be released.
Let me out. Let me kill.
Her top lip pulls back, her head drops and her eyes remain fixed on the objective ahead.

She moves fast but ducks down to reduce her profile and she veers left into the shadows formed by the wall and her eyes strain to see any sign ahead. Nothing. She loses sense of direction and stops to drop down and kneel in the water with the rain soaking her body. Her eyes stare hard. Waiting. Watching. Something will show. The pressure to keep moving is great but her mind runs fast and clear. Wait. Watch.
Let me out. Let me kill.

There it is. The soft amber light of a cigarette end glowing. Keeping her eyes locked on that exact spot she sets off again, still veering left. She reaches the wall and stops to catch her breath. Steadying her heart rate that thunders in her chest.

Pushing on and she takes it one step at a time. Keeping low and pressed as close to the wall as she can. The rain masks any noise she makes. The cigarette glows again. She heads towards it. Gaining closer with every step of her feet and her head cocked to one side straining to hear voices but hearing none.

Only metres away now and she stops in the pitch darkness with energy pulsing through her limbs. With eyes staring, unblinking, with a screaming voice inside demanding to be set free to kill and kill until everything is dead. The doorway is recessed with a ledge over the top sheltering the smoker from the worst of the rain.

She steals forward with her eyes fixed and staring at the point where the end of the cigarette glows. She smells the tobacco in the air. Still no voices. Her body brushes the wall. The smoker lifts a hand to draw on the cigarette and using the doorway she gains scale of the size of the sentry on guard. Someone small. Not one of the crew chiefs. This will be one of the younger ones made to stand out in the rain.