The Undead Day Nineteen (30 page)

‘Ha!’ Clarence flashes a hand out with a presumption of victory that is snatched from his grip as she stops dead, turns and whips away, ‘bloody hell she’s quick.’

‘Stop that dog,’ Paula shouts, ‘no…Meredith NO…’ the dog spins, weaves and makes us all look slow as she plays escape and evade with a penis dangling from the side of her mouth.

The dog runs off, sprinting a few metres with a blur of speed and comes to a stop as she spins and drops to the ground bringing her front paws together to grip the penis as she opens her mouth to pant and stare back at us looking for all the world like she’s grinning.

We range out in a line. The living army seeing its prey. Dave central and slightly ahead as ever. Me on one side, Clarence on the other. Meredith’s tail wags slowly. We lower down, our eyes fixed. Her tail wags a bit faster.

‘Easy now,’ I whisper as the line edges forward.

‘Flanks,’ Clarence mutters.

‘On it,’ Nick starts going wide one side while Roy goes wide the other side, ready to encircle the dog who grips the willy between her paws and looks round with her tail now wagging faster.

‘Is everything okay?’ Reginald calls out from the side of Roy’s van, standing there watching with Kyle.

‘Shush,’ Marcy waves her hand at him as we encroach towards the dog.

‘Steady,’ I murmur, dropping lower while I gently push my rifle round to my back to free my hands.

‘Stop,’ Marcy whispers urgently as Meredith drops her head towards the penis and looks up at us, ‘no no no,’ she calls out softly, ‘don’t eat it…you don’t where it’s been’

‘Meredith,’ Cookey calls out just as softly, ‘can Blowers have his willy back now?’

I sputter a laugh that ripples round the group and realise Blowers is still stood back by the vehicles squirting anti-bac over his right hand, ‘not funny,’ he grumbles.

‘Ooh,’ Clarence stops dead to stand upright.

‘Shit,’ I turn away from the awful sight.

‘Nasty’ Roy peels off, his hand going instinctively to his groin as she bites another inch off that she chews with loud squelchy noises of mastication.

‘Urgh,’ Nick grimaces, ‘she’s eating it.’

‘The dog’s eating your dick, Blowers,’ Cookey says, wincing as every man in the group closes his legs a bit tighter.

We don’t stand a chance and we know it, and what’s more, Meredith knows it. She has the penis and she will eat it and the look in her eyes tell us there ain’t a damn thing we can do stop her. So we don’t. We stand back and grimace with winces as she bites and chews and swallows until the thing is gobbled down and she finally lifts her head looking smug and content.

‘Your dog is disgusting,’ I say to Nick as I turn away.

‘She’s not my dog,’ Nick says.

‘S’gross,’ Mo says, frowning at Nick as he heads back to the bus.

‘She’s not my bloody dog,’ Nick exclaims.

‘Ha,’ Blinky laughs, ‘your dog likes cock.’

‘Not my dog.’

‘Nick,’ Clarence says with a tut, ‘don’t let her do that again.’

‘She’s not my fucking dog!’

‘Shouldn’t be off a lead if you can’t control her,’ Blowers calls out now on his second bottle of anti-bac.

‘Er, you can all fuck off…she’s not my dog.’

‘Charlie doesn’t let her horse eat body parts,’ Paula joins in. ‘Anyway, have we finished dicking about? Get it? Dicking about?’

‘That was awful,’ I say with a shake of my head.

‘Pah, no sense of humour. Onwards then, Mr Howie. Lead the living army through this town of dismembered penises.’

‘One penis,’ Blowers shouts, picking his rifle up, ‘it was one and I didn’t know what it was.’

‘BLOWERS LICKED A CUT OFF WILLY,’ Cookey’s amplified voice informs everyone in the vicinity.

‘I’m quitting,’ Blowers says, ‘I’m giving my notice, Mr Howie.’

‘Speak to Miss Paula, she handles personnel issues.’

‘Resignation refused,’ Paula says.

‘DON’T DRINK THE WATER. THERE MIGHT BE WILLIES IN IT…’

‘Okay okay,’ Paula calls out, ‘game faces on, ready when you are, Howie.’

Twenty Two

‘
Mr Howie, it’s Charlie. There’s a blood trail on the ground running along the pavement to your right.’

‘Okay, Dave’s looking now…see anything, Dave?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay…what do you see, Dave?’

‘A blood trail, Mr Howie.’

‘Great, clears that up then.’

‘Three people. Two men and one woman going in the same direction as we are.’

‘Fuck me. You can tell them from a blood trail?’

‘No. There are footprints in the blood trail.’

‘Want me to hold off with the loudspeaker for a bit?’
Cookey asks through the radio.

‘Yeah for a minute, mate. Charlie, can you see where it goes?’

‘Will do.’

She canters the horse further down the road while periodically leaning down to check the pavement. We’re only a few streets from the penis house and still in an estate agents wet dream of a residential heaven made from ubiquitous brick built houses with slate roofs and small gardens. It feels foreboding now. Like the houses are faces and the dark windows are eyes and the doors are mouths ready to open and spew the filthy infected at us. We’re getting closer to the town centre and the sense of unease grows.

I glance back every few minutes to the others behind me. Cookey driving the Saxon to the left side of the road. The bus behind but in the middle and Roy’s van behind that but again staggered out with Kyle clear behind the windscreen. Blowers walks in front of the bus. Clarence by the door and I can see through the bus screen to the woman Jane passing a bottle of water out to him. Roy is off to the right, his bow held with an arrow nocked and ready. Everyone else is ranged out, encircling the bus. The tension is high and the more we do this the greater our discomfort grows at being in a built up area where every doorway, every alley, every window and corner holds a point of danger. Marcy and Paula walk side by side talking quietly while they scan and watch the sides and turn to see the back covered by Reginald monitoring the cameras.

‘People from the house?’ I ask quietly as Dave comes back to the middle of the road. He doesn’t answer but turns in a slow circle to take in every possible point of attack before thumbing the button under his shirt,
‘Mohammed, up front with Mr Howie.’

‘Coming.’

‘Dave, I don’t need Mo to protect me…’

‘I am training him, Mr Howie. This is a good training ground.’

‘Okay,’ I know better than to argue, especially when he’s got that tone of voice going on. Not that it differs from any other tone of voice he has but somehow it just feels different.

‘Mohammed,’ Dave says as Mo runs up to join us, ‘take the left side of Mr Howie…’

‘Really, Dave?’ I ask.

‘I am training Mohammed.’

‘Okay okay.’

‘Mohammed, ahead of us is twelve o’clock, our rear is six o’clock. Do you understand a clock face?’

‘Yep…I mean yes, Dave.’

‘You will cover from six o’clock to twelve o’clock. I will cover from twelve o’clock to six.’

‘So’s I’m covering the left then.’

‘Yes.’

‘Got it.’

‘Charlie is ahead of us which we will take into account if we have to fire.’

‘Got it.’

‘Select single shot on your rifle and only fire if you have clear line of sight. Place your shots.’

‘Yep,’ Mo says, switching the firing position on his rifle, ‘I mean yes.’

‘We are prone to ambush in a situation such as this. There are many points of entry leading into our position. We must be aware of each point of entry.’

‘Got it.’

‘What is the best exit route from this position?’

‘We run back?’ Mo says, turning as he walks to cover his side.

‘It is called a tactical retreat. We do not run back. We withdraw tactically.’

‘Got it.’

‘Yes, the vehicles are our first place of safety if an ambush occurs now. They are armoured and we have a stronger defensive line with the team. If we were attacked now from the front what would the best tactical option be?’

‘How many?’ Mo asks.

‘Two.’

‘We stand our ground and kill them.’

‘There are three.’

‘Same.’

‘Ten.’

‘I think we can deal with ten,’ Mo says, glancing at me, ‘Mr Howie can handle ten on his own.’

‘One hundred.’

‘Run back…er, we tactically withdraw to the vehicles.’

‘And then?’

‘Then we kill them.’

‘There are too many.’

‘Too many? How many is that?’

‘There are too many for us to fight. Our ammunition is depleted.’

‘We’s fuck ‘em up with axes and knives.’

‘We do not have our axes or knives.’

‘I got my knife.’

‘You dropped it.’

‘I went back and got it.’

‘It was taken from you.’

‘I took it back from the fucker that took it.’

‘It was broken.’

‘I take one from you. You got loads of knives.’

‘Mine are broken. We do not have knives now.’

‘We go into the houses and get more knives.’

‘The houses are locked.’

‘Clarence breaks the doors down and we get more knives.’

‘Clarence is busy.’

‘I break a window and get in the house and come out with knives for me and you.’

‘There are no knives in the houses.’

‘I can fight with a stick or a bat or a chain.’

‘There are no sticks or bats or chains.’

‘Forks.’

‘There are no forks.’

‘Bare handed them. Old school.’

‘There are too many.’

He leans forward to look past me to Dave, ‘I dunno, Dave.’

‘We can use the vehicles to punch out and regroup.’

‘Got it.’

‘The vehicles are broken,’ Dave says, continuing the lesson.

‘We run and regroup?’ Mo asks.

‘We cannot run through them. There are too many.’

‘We’s fight through them then.’

‘We do not have weapons.’

‘Mr Howie, the trail leads to a house. The door is open. Blood inside the hallway.’

‘Coming to you, hold position, keep your eyes up, Charlie.’

I start running, feeling somewhat silly with Mo and Dave either side of me. Behind me the vehicles pick up speed to keep pace. Down the road we sprint, heading towards Charlie at the far end sitting on the horse aiming her rifle towards a house. Meredith streaks ahead, zooming down the middle of the road and covering the distance in a matter of seconds.

‘Charlotte,’
Dave, the fit bastard, speaks into his radio as calm as anything as we sprint flat out, ‘
when we reach your position you will move further down to cover.’

‘Understood.’

‘I hate you,’ I mutter between breaths and hear Mo snigger at my side.

We reach Charlie and with a flick of the reins she trots away and I notice the axe is now hanging from a big brass loop with the axe head resting against the saddle.

The house is the same as before. The door wide open and what looks like fresh blood on the hallway inside the front door.

I go forward as Dave rests a hand on my arm, ‘we will clear the house.’

‘Go for it,’ I say and hold back for a second as they go inside then promptly follow them in, which earns me a frosty glance from Dave.

The house is detached and nicely done up with bare wooden floors and even from here I can see through to the kitchen and dining room that have been stacked with crates of tinned food. Whoever lived here was in it for the long haul. The floor is covered in blood and looks about the same as the last place.

‘Door’s not damaged,’ Clarence says as gets into the doorway and checks the lock, ‘must have let them in.’

‘Ground floor clear,’ Dave says walking past me with Mo who stops and looks down, ‘there’s another dick there.’

‘Eh?’ I look down at Mo’s feet to see the bloodied pink thing lying in a thick patch of blood, ‘shit.’

‘First floor,’ Dave says, ‘Mohammed, you will go first. Pistol not rifle. Mr Howie, there is blood in the rear garden.’

‘Yep,’ Mo says, moving away from the penis.

‘Yes not…’

‘Yes, sorry Dave,’ Mo says, slinging his rifle to draw his pistol as he leads the way up the stairs.

‘Smaller than the last one,’ Clarence says, peering down at it.

‘Size isn’t everything,’ I say with a look at him, ‘not that I’d know.’

‘No?’

‘Course not,’ I say quickly, ‘mines tiny.’

He snorts a laugh and reaches up to rub the back of his head, ‘this is weird.’

‘Telling me, we got a zombie biting dicks off.’

‘Not a zombie.’

‘What you got?’ Paula says, walking towards the door with Marcy.

‘Another dick,’ Clarence says heavily.

‘You being serious?’ Marcy asks, walking to look down, ‘that’s a small one.’

‘I thought size didn’t matter,’ I say.

‘Noooo, course not,’ she says earnestly, ‘but that is a tiddler.’

‘Zombies biting penises off,’ Paula says.

‘Not zombies,’ Clarence says.

‘Upstairs is clear,’ Dave says coming down the stairs, ‘did you look in the rear garden?’

‘Not yet,’ I say and head through the kitchen to the open back doors and the blood trail that leads to another big patch of blood and stained garden hoe. ‘So the bloke answers the door,’ I say, looking back along the trail to the house, ‘he gets chomped and…’

‘His penis is bitten off,’ Marcy says helpfully.

‘And someone else legs it out here and goes for it with the hoe.’

‘Dicks and hoes,’ Marcy snorts, ‘sorry, bad taste.’

‘Ear,’ Paula says.

‘You what?’ I ask.

‘Ear on the ground and that,’ she says, tilting her head to look down, ‘is a nose by the looks of it.’

Marcy tuts then sighs sadly, ‘Toby and Penny,’ she nods to a wooden love seat set against the fence with the names Toby and Penny carved into the seats. ‘They’ve got names now.’

I nod in response to the dark tone of her voice and any trace of the humour we use to shield ourselves from the horrors we see every five fucking minutes vanishes. It’s one thing to see a dick on the floor but another when you know the name of the bloke the dick belonged to. We’re stood in his garden too with bits of his wife on the grass.

‘We need to move faster,’ Clarence says.

‘Mr Howie, the blood trail leads down to another house. The door is broken in on this one…’

‘Coming, Blowers, you got line of sight on Charlie?’
I ask as we start running back through the house.

‘Negative, I’ll go ahead.’

‘Roy? Can you see Charlie?’

‘Running down now.’

‘I’m fine, Mr Howie,’
she says with a hint of frustration.

‘We stay in line of sight,’
I pant the words out running through the blood in the hallway and out into the road to see Blowers and Roy sprinting side by side down the road. We burst out and the engines lift in pitch as they start coming after us. ‘Too many at the front,’ I shout out, ‘Paula, Marcy and Clarence drop back to the bus…
Reginald, you hearing me?’

‘Go ahead, Mr Howie.’

‘Body parts in this house again. Another dick bitten off and more in the garden. It’s fresh…’

‘Understood.’

‘Eyes up, mate. Everyone eyes up and scan out.’

I sprint fast, building speed as I charge down the road behind Blowers and Roy who suddenly veers out to vault onto the top of a car and pull his bow up with the arrow ready, ‘Eyes on Charlie,’ he shouts.

She comes into view. Sitting waiting patiently past a junction and a few houses down the next road. Her rifle held with the butt against her thigh while she turns the horse round in a circle. Blowers reaches her first and instantly drops to one knee to aim into the house while waving at her to move on down the street.

‘Dave, Mo, clear the house.’

‘With me,’ Dave streaks on with Mo keeping stride as they reach Blowers to pause for a second as they sling rifles, draw pistols and head inside.

‘Anything?’ I ask Blowers as I finally reach him and look back to see Roy has run closer to get on top of another car to gain height to see up and down the street.

‘Nothing, door’s smashed in,’ he says.

‘With me then,’ I go for the front door with Blowers behind me and enter into a house that stinks of stale food and stale body odour. The décor is grim with a threadbare carpet worn thin and faded. Wallpaper peeling off the walls and clutter everywhere. Blood on the floor and a knife with a blade still wet and glistening from being used.