Blog of the Dead (Book 1): Sophie (33 page)

Kay marched further down the filed, swiping at the undergrowth with her axe. I saw her round up on a couple of zombies, swinging her axe with expert, professional-zombie-killing action, cutting chunks from heads. I helped Misfit keep the zombies back while Sam pulled brambles from the girl’s tangled hair.

Many more zombies staggered into the field through the gate at the bottom, attracted to the girl’s earlier screams, I guessed. Stewart, Kay and Charlotte took the front line against them. I saw a whole procession of zombies lumbering up the hill from the direction of the harbour and town. Others gathered on the road side of the fence, ravaged arms groping over the brambles. As they began pushing through the brambles, the fence began to give.

So many zombies. All heading towards our camp. We couldn’t risk letting the hoard know where we live.

‘We have to get out of here,’ I yelled across the field, before stabbing a zombie through the eye. Neither Stewart, Kay nor Charlotte took any notice of me, they were too busy killing the zombies that poured into the field.

‘Retreat back to camp?’ said Sam, he and the girl had come to help smash zombie skulls now that she was mostly bramble free.

‘No,’ I said, pausing to stamp on a zombie’s head with my Converse – I’d thought it was dead, but it was doing a sneaky little stomach crawl, dragging itself through the trampled undergrowth by its rotten hands. ‘We can’t risk this lot following us. There’s too many to kill. We’re going to have to draw them away some –’ That’s when I heard an engine, a buzzing motorbike engine some way off but getting closer. Another noise joined in … a second engine. I glanced down the hill, towards the road that leads to the harbour and town and I saw a motorbike weaving its way through the lumbering zombies. Black blood gushed like an oil strike and zombies fell as the bike passed them. I couldn’t make any sense of it at first, but I slowly realised, as the bike got closer, that the second engine I’d heard wasn’t another bike, but a chainsaw. I could see two leather-clad figures on the bike, one driving and one on the back holding the chainsaw and slicing through the zombies. The bike carried on coming, right into the field, crashing through weeds and bramble bushes that had been flattened during the ongoing battle. The roar of the two engines was deafening, but the sight of zombies getting slaughtered in such style, with rancid body parts flying, more than made up for it.

The bike did a circuit of the field, killing zombies as it went, while the rest of us watched in awe and took care of any stragglers. As part of the fence gave way and more zombies lurched into the field, the bike headed straight for them, pulverising them all.

When every zombie in the field had been annihilated and reduced to a puddle of black gooey mush, the bike skidded to a stop not far from where I stood. Two leather-clad, helmet wearing figures climbed off. I thought of Liam and the day he died, dressed in leathers, and how Sam had been so close to being bitten by Zombie-Liam. But I shook the memory off. Stewart, Charlotte and Kay trudged up the field to join me, Sam, Misfit and the girl, while the figures stood before us like aliens from another planet. I waited to see if they had come in peace.

The one with the chainsaw set it down on the ground by the bike and pulled off their helmet in a swift movement. Blonde hair fluttered down around her leather-clad shoulders, reminding me of autumn leaves from a tree. She placed her helmet on the seat of the bike. ‘Tricia,’ the blonde biker girl said to the younger dark haired girl. ‘I told you not to come out by yourself … it’s dangerous.’

‘I’m sorry Soph,’ the younger girl – Tricia – said to Biker Girl. ‘I wanted blackberries. The ones in the garden have all gone and I’m sick of tinned food.’

Biker Girl – Soph – shook her head and strands of blonde hair danced about her shoulders. She stepped forwards a few paces. Wrapping her arms around Tricia’s scratched and raw shoulders, she said, ‘Blackberries aren’t worth dying for dumb arse.’

21
^st
September, 4.45pm
That day I learned the amazing lengths people will go to for a bit of fresh fruit. There weren’t a lot of blackberries left that hadn’t been squashed during the battle, but, by this point, I think that Tricia was just happy to be alive. ‘Thank you,’ Biker Soph said to me and the others as she pulled away from the scratched, torn, blackberry stained, bedraggled Tricia. ‘What do you say to the nice people who helped save your skinny butt, Tricia?’

‘Thanks,’ said Tricia sulkily without even looking at any of us.

‘Sorry about her,’ said Soph. ‘She doesn’t have the best of attitudes, but she’s ok really.’

‘I’m here … I can hear you,’ said Tricia. ‘And I’m in a lot of pain. Not as though anyone seems bothered.’

‘I’m Soph,’ she continued, ignoring Tricia’s teenage-madam-moment. ‘Tricia you’ve met. And this is Chris,’ she said, nodding at the other leather-clad figure who had removed his helmet to reveal a red headed late teen.

‘Alright,’ he said with a smile, motorbike helmet under his right arm.

‘I’m Sophie,’ I said, keeping my distance a little. Soph and Chris appeared friendly enough – Tricia, doubtful – but I didn’t know them and wasn’t about to be their best friend just because they had some nice toys. Caine did me one favour … not to be so trusting. ‘And this is Sam, Misfit, Kay, Stewart and Charlotte.’ Everyone did the,
Hi
,
Hello
,
head nodding
,
smiling thing
– apart from Tricia who just looked sullen. I noticed that Kay, Misfit and Stewart, like me, held back.

‘Nice set up,’ said Sam nodding to the bike and the chainsaw beside it.

‘Cheers,’ said Chris. ‘I’ve always had an interest in zombies, you know, fictional ones, and I had my zombie plan sorted way before all this real life zombie shit kicked off.’

‘Chris is our zombie expert,’ said Soph.

‘Being prepared, that’s the key.’ Chris continued. ‘Secure hideout, kick-ass weapons, sound defences, keeping fit and alert. The only thing we haven’t really got on too well with is sorting out a sustainable food supply. We tried growing stuff through the summer but, well, we all suck at gardening.’

‘Where’re you based?’ I asked.

‘St Andrews in the Durlocks. You know it?’ said Soph.

‘Yes,’ I said, remembering the large old building like something from a horror movie. I think it used to be a convalescent home or something, back in the 19
^th
Century. It’s flats now. Before the outbreak, I think mostly old people lived in the flats … awesome sea views. ‘Just down that way,’ I pointed down the hill, ‘in the direction of the harbour, right? I almost got bit there once. Nice place, I didn’t realise anyone was living there. How long you been there?’

‘Couple of months,’ said Soph. ‘We were in another place, nearer town. But we kept rounding up survivors and we outgrew it.’

‘How many of you?’ asked Kay.

‘Erm … me, Chris, Tricia and then there’s Jordan, Tracey, Lucy, Carl, Josh, the old dears that were there when we arrived … Cleo … erm …’ Soph looked skyward as she mentally counted, half-heartedly using her fingers until she ran out of fingers. ‘… seventeen of us. Bit much for your average house.’

‘And we figured it would be better to be closer to the sea,’ said Chris. ‘We fish in the harbour. Sometimes we take one of the boats just outside the harbour wall, we get more fish out there. We do pretty well for fish. It’s fresh fruit and veg we’re crap at.’

‘I have chickens,’ said Tricia (substitute
chickens
for,
the best thing in the world ever and you can’t have it nerrrrrrrr
!!!!! And you have her tone of voice).

‘Some of us drove up to the nearby farms a while back and brought home the few surviving chickens we found,’ said Soph. ‘Tricia looks after them. And they give enough eggs for a decent dinner once a week for the lot of us. We plan to set ourselves up so we’re totally self-sufficient. Water’s always an issue though. We have water butts, but it doesn’t always rain enough.’

‘We’re fairly self-sufficient, aren’t we guys?’ said Charlotte, looking round at the rest of us. ‘And we get wa –’

‘We’re not doing bad,’ Kay jumped in, her voice firm. And she smiled a smile to Charlotte that said,
Shhhhhhhhh
!

Soph and Chris eyed each other, and an awkward silence descended. ‘I’m bored,’ said Tricia, as unaware of the awkward silence as only the self absorbed can be. ‘I want to go home.’

‘Ok, Tricia. You get on the bike and I’ll walk.’ Soph picked up her helmet and passed it to Tricia, who snatch it from her. Then Soph bent down and picked up the chainsaw. ‘Well,’ said said, turning to us. ‘You know where we are now, so feel free to visit any time. There’s always someone keeping watch, so they’ll be able to let you in.’

‘Sure. Thanks,’ I said. ‘Nice to meet you, all of you.’ Soph smiled at me.

‘And you,’ said Chris. He pushed his helmet on and climbed onto the bike. Without saying anything, Tricia shoved the helmet over her head and swung her skinny little leg up and over the bike, wrapping her arms around Chris’s waist. ‘Take care, Soph,’ he said to Biker Soph, his voice muffled by the helmet, and he started the engine.

‘I will, Chris,’ Soph yelled over the roar of the engine. ‘I’ve got my little friend to keep me company. She raised the chainsaw as though to assure us she was referring to that and not a small invisible person. ‘By the way,’ she said, tuning back to me and the others. ‘Whereabouts are you guys based?’

‘Nearby,’ I said.

The bike whizzed off, the sound of the engine diminishing as it made its way down the hill towards the harbour. ‘Ok,’ said Soph with a weak smile. ‘I’ll see you.’ And she turned, heading off down the field towards the gate, looking – in her leathers and with the chainsaw at her side – like someone that I hoped wouldn’t want to hurt us.

29
^th
September, 3.40pm
‘What was that about, back there?’ Sam asked me once we were safely inside our camp the day of the battle in the field.

‘What – where?’ I asked. I had been shuffling towards our caravan, exhausted, but Sam gripped me by the elbow and pulled me to a standstill. Misfit, who had sat down by the ashy remains of the previous night’s fire to clean his knife with the edge of his t-shirt, looked up, his eyes fixed on Sam. ‘What’s up, Sam?’ I continued.

‘You were pretty rude to them,’ he said, not letting go of my arm. ‘Soph and Chris.’

‘Rude? I wasn’t rude,’ I said, pulling my arm away from him. ‘Guarded, yes. But not rude.’

‘They helped us out, but you gave them the cold shoulder.’

‘Sam, we helped
them
out by saving that little ungrateful brat’s arse. We only got into trouble because of
her
. Any one of us could’ve got bit saving her, but we did it anyway, cos that’s what we do … we put ourselves at risk to save others as well as ourselves. But not everyone out there is all that nice – remember.’

‘We can’t distrust everyone we meet because of what Caine did to us, sweetie,’ said Charlotte, coming up to stand beside Sam. I saw Misfit cast his eyes to the ground at the mention of his step dad’s name.

‘I’m not going to let anyone fuck with me like that again!’ I said louder than I had intended, pointing a finger at Sam. Sam caught my wrist in his right hand.

‘I won’t let anyone do anything like that to you … any of us again,’ he said, looking me in the eye.

‘You couldn’t stop it last time.’ It was Misfit that spoke. We all turned to look at him. ‘What the fuck …?’ said Sam, letting go of me and striding across to loom over the skinny, tattooed boy who looked in need of a good wash. ‘What are you trying to say, huh? You were one of them!’

‘Sam!’ I darted over and placed my hand on Sam’s chest, holding him back from Misfit, who looked quite indifferent to Sam’s outburst. But I couldn’t tell if it was indifference or just Misfit shutting off from it, the way he must have shut himself off from Caine all those years, detaching himself from the abuse.

‘No, Sophie,’ said Sam. ‘He can’t talk to me like that.’ And to Misfit he said, ‘You were one of them, for fuck’s sake!’

Misfit stood up slowly, effortlessly, making us wait for him. ‘Yes, I was one of them,’ he said once he had pulled himself to his full height, just a little shorter than Sam, still an inch or so taller than me. Since he’d been with us, spending most of his days out hunting, I’d noticed a change in Misfit when he was in camp. I’d seen him grow in confidence. He still kept himself to himself, he wasn’t a mixer, but his body language was more relaxed, like he was ready not to feel as though he had to apologise for being who he is … he could just be. ‘But I was a prisoner just as you were. I’m not going to let anyone control me again. Sophie is right to be wary. We don’t know them. We have to assume that human beings are just as dangerous as the zombies. The zombies want us, but humans, they want what we have.’

‘So, what … are you saying we shouldn’t have helped that girl. That we should just look after ourselves?’ asked Sam.

‘No,’ said Misfit, his big dark eyes looking deep into Sam’s bright green ones. ‘I’m not saying that at all. I’ll always help now that I can. Otherwise I’d be no better than … than
him
. But I trust no one. Well, almost no one.’ Misfit glanced at me, then to the ground at his feet, and back up at Sam.

The pair of them continued to stare at each other like they were about to start butting heads. I placed my left hand on Sam’s shoulder and I glimpsed the diamond ring on my finger. I’d forgotten about that. Sam caught me looking at it. He gazed at me quizzically. Then, realising it was the only way to diffuse the situation, I found myself saying in a small voice, ‘Me and Sam are getting married.’

I love Sam, that’s not in question, so I didn’t understand why, as the others reacted around me, I could only feel numb. Charlotte practically exploded with excitement, rushing over and hugging me and Sam. Kay and Stewart came over, big grins on their faces. Kay gave us both a hug, then Stewart did. But it felt like it was happening to someone else, all the joy, all the colour and glowing smiles … I watched it from my numb, monochrome world. I looked behind me to see Misfit staring at me blankly, and I knew that he was in the same world as me.