Blog of the Dead (Book 1): Sophie (38 page)

‘What?’

Enough nails had been driven into the wood and with the absence of banging from the other side to indicate any zombies trying to get in, Misfit let go of the table. He stood before me. His suit jacket had been removed and his white t shirt was stained with blood. ‘He went out of the gap in the fence before we sealed it up and –’

‘What the fuck …?’

‘He wanted to clear the back for zombies so we could get this fixed up without any trouble,’ explained Misfit.

‘But … but he’s coming back … right? He’ll come back in, through the front …?’

‘No Sophie. He’s gone.’

‘But …’

‘He wanted to go. He wanted you to remember him as he was,’ said Misfit.

‘No. That’s bullshit. No, he … No!’

‘Sophie, he’s been bitten.’

‘I know, Misfit. But … but what if he’s immune? It’s possible. He could be. He could get better …’

‘You don’t really believe that do you?’ asked Misfit. ‘He told me to tell you that … that he loves you. He always will.’

I stifled a sob. ‘I’m not giving up on him, Misfit.’ I ran towards the fence. ‘SAM! SAM! SAM!’

A hand hooked around my elbow and pulled me back. ‘Shut up, Sophie,’ said Misfit. ‘You’ll bring more zombies here.’

My legs gave way and I crumpled to the ground and cried so hard that I couldn’t get my breath and my whole body juddered. Misfit knelt beside me and wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on the top of my head. I sank my face into his chest and put my arms around him. I have no idea how long we stayed like that, my wedding dress covered in blood – black from the zombies and red from Sam. But eventually Kay and Charlotte came and helped me to my feet. They guided me into St Andrews and into one of the flats on the ground floor, someone gave me a glass of whisky. I drank it, feeling the warm liquid burn my insides. There was movement all around me as people asked if there was anything they could do, anything I needed. I didn’t respond. Misfit didn’t leave my side but he didn’t try and talk to me.

Later, back at our camp, I told the others that I wanted to be alone and I lay on mine and Sam’s bed and cried until I was numb. I lay there a while longer, then I got up, took off my wedding dress and threw it across the bed. It looked like someone had murdered it, blood all over it. I unpinned my hair, pulled out the fabric roses, and tied my hair into a low bun. Not bothering to clean the blood off my skin, I put on some jeans and a jumper and Misfit’s biker jacket and went outside to the others, sitting around a camp fire. I sat down next to Misfit and I stared into the orange flames as they warmed my skin. Misfit took one of my hands in his but didn’t speak.

‘One more down,’ I said, my voice cracking slightly, ‘Five more to go.’ I looked at Kay, on the other side of the fire, to Charlotte, to Stewart and, finally, to Misfit.

‘Let’s go out fighting,’ said Misfit, giving my hand a squeeze.

‘We’ll go out in style, sweetie,’ said Charlotte.

‘Taking as many of those dead fuckers down with us as we can,’ said Kay.

Stewart picked his guitar off the ground next to him and began to play a new song he’d been working on. As he sang, his voice gravelly and warm, I leaned my head on Misfit’s shoulder and I couldn’t help but wonder which one of us would be the next to go. Life is just too fucking short to waste a moment.

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