Blog of the Dead (Book 2): Life (9 page)

‘Sophie, what are you doing here?’ he asked, not unkindly.

‘I want to see Soph and Chris,’ I said, panting.

‘Sure. Hang on, I’ll let you in.’ Shane unlocked the gate and me and Misfit passed through into the car park. ‘Listen, I’m sorry about yesterday. None of us wanted to do that, but –’

‘I just want to see Soph and Chris. Where are they?’ I said.

‘Sure. Just go through,’ said Shane. ‘Someone inside will know where they are if you can’t find them.’

‘Thanks,’ I said and entered the building. The hallway was empty. ‘Where do you think they’d keep a prisoner?’ I asked Misfit.

‘Sophie, this is none of our business. Let’s just go.’

‘No. Not until I find out what they’re doing to him. Not until I speak to Sean. If he tells me the truth, tells me what happened … who did it, I can help track the killer.’ I started down the hallway but Misfit grabbed my arm and forced me to stop.

‘He is the killer, Sophie. Why can’t you see that?’

‘Sophie … Misfit.’ I glanced behind me to see Kelly stood in the lobby at the end of the hallway holding Ella in her arms. ‘Sophie … how are you?’

‘I’m OK, Kelly.’ My throat tightened because I knew Kelly was referring to how I was coping after losing Sam. ‘You? You look tired.’

‘I am. Finding Lucy was a shock.’ With her left hand Kelly stroked Ella’s pale honey blonde hair. When she spoke again, her voice was muted as though hoping the young child wouldn’t hear, even though Ella’s head rest on Kelly’s shoulder. ‘It’s not like I’m a stranger to dead bodies but …’ Kelly shook her head. ‘I can’t believe a human did that to her. As if we don’t have enough to worry about these days. Thank god they’ve got the,’ Kelly mouthed the word ‘bastard’, ‘that did it. I’m still finding it hard to sleep though.’

‘Um … I’m looking for Soph and Chris, any idea where they are?’ I said, walking along the corridor towards Kelly until I stood in the lobby.

‘Well, they’re around some … ah …’ Footsteps on the staircase to my left preceded the arrival of Chris.

He trotted up the steps from the building’s basement and stopped at the top. His eyes widened when he saw me but he countered the reaction with a smile. I noticed he fiddled awkwardly with the knife he held in his right hand. ‘Hey, Sophie … Misfit. What can I –’

‘Where is he, Chris?’ I asked.

‘Sean?’

‘Yes, Sean.’

‘Sophie, I’m really sorry about the way we barged in yesterday. I know it came across as disrespectful but, as you can imagine, feelings have been running high here … after Lucy.’

‘I understand that, I do. And that’s what I’m worried about, because I don’t think he did it,’ I said. ‘He told me he didn’t and I believe him. But he told me he knows who did.’

‘We found scratches on his arms, Sophie. Did you know he had scratches on his arms? Scratches that probably happened when Lucy was fighting for her life!’ Chris’s face turned as red as his hair as he spoke.

I watched Kelly hug Ella tighter to her and I waited until she’d backed away through the lobby and around to the rear of the building before I spoke. ‘I know about the scratches, Chris. It still doesn’t prove –’

‘You knew about the scratches?’ said Chris and I guessed this wasn’t the time to mention the red blood on his hands. ‘You knew that Lucy had been murdered, that this stranger turned up on the beach the day of the murder and you didn’t think to tell us about the scratches?’

‘Can I see him?’ I asked, ignoring Chris’s question.

‘Sean?’

‘Yes, Sean.’

‘No.’

‘I need to see him,’ I said.

‘Not now. He’s being questioned.’

‘Has he said anything about what happened?’

‘No.’

‘What are you going to do with him?’

‘He quite likely killed one of ours, Sophie. He’s ours to deal with.’

‘Are you going to kill him?’ I asked. Chris said nothing. ‘Please,’ I took a step closer to him. ‘You have to let me see him. I think you’re making a big mistake.’

‘No. I’m sorry. Look, I don’t want to fall out over this.’

‘Fall out! This is a bit more than falling out, Chris. A man’s life is on the line here. And more lives could be in danger if you have this wrong! Is he down there?’ I said, nodding to the stairs.

‘Sophie, stop,’ said Chris, putting a hand up to prevent me going down the stairs.

‘No. Let me pass.’

‘Sophie, let’s go. Don’t do this,’ said Misfit.

‘No. I’m not leaving until I’ve seen Sean,’ I said, snapping my head around to look at him.

The front door opened and Shane stuck his head inside. ‘Is everything OK in here?’ he asked.

‘Thanks, Shane. Sophie and Misfit were just leaving,’ said Chris.

‘No I’m not,’ I said, making another attempt at slipping past Chris. ‘I need to speak to Sean and I’m not going until I have.’ I got to the second step down but Chris grabbed my arm and pulled me up the stairs.

‘Hey!’ snapped Misfit, darting forwards. ‘Don’t touch her like that.’ He squared up to Chris.

‘I’m sorry. Sophie, I’m sorry for that,’ said Chris. ‘But please. I’m asking you both to leave. This is our business. How we deal with it is up to us.’ Shane now stood half a metre away, baseball bat in hand.

‘We’re going,’ said Misfit.

‘No we’re not,’ I said.

‘Yes we are, Sophie,’ said Misfit and he grabbed me by the elbow. ‘Chris is right, it’s their business.’

I looked from Misfit to Chris to Shane. My cheeks burned and I clenched my fists into balls as I breathed deeply to contain myself. I pushed past Misfit and Shane. ‘There’s a murderer out there,’ I said, turning and walking backwards towards the door, ‘and you’re going to kill – murder – the only person who knows who it is!’ I turned and stormed through the door, out into the car park.

Entry Ten

That night, neither me nor Misfit spoke as I sat beside him on the sofa in his caravan and changed the dressing on his head wound. ‘It’s healing well,’ I said finally. ‘You’ll live.’ And I ticked off the compartment in my brain that displayed concern for him without showing it on the outside. I was too mad at him for not sticking up for me against Chris to let him know I cared. I packed the spare bandages, scissors and medical tape back into the first aid kit, stood and left the caravan.

The others had all gone to bed, and I swept past the deserted glowing remains of the fire, and into my caravan. I slumped onto the sofa, releasing a big sigh. I slid my knife out of my belt and lay it on the windowsill behind me, before pulling my baccy out of my pocket. Sitting cross legged, I rolled a cigarette. I wasn’t supposed to smoke in the caravan but …
fuck it
, I thought. Sean, Misfit, Sophie, Chris, my Sam – all names that evoked a tight, anxious knot in my stomach. I pulled hard on my cigarette and flicked ash into a little pot on the windowsill that contained some loose change belonging to the caravan’s former occupant – whoever had been in the process of converting the Martello tower before the outbreak.

‘Christ, I need a fucking holiday,’ I mumbled under my breath. I spoke to the cigarette between my fingers as if it cared. I reasoned that the thin roll up had the ability to care and had the power to do as much as any human in my life. ‘What a fucking mess,’ I said to the cigarette again before taking another hard drag on it, killing it faster than it could kill me. I took another pull on the cigarette and then stubbed it out on the collection of 50 and 20 pence coins in the pot, and I lay down on the sofa. I stared at the ceiling, willing my groggy, muddled mind to focus on what I should do about Sean, but my mind kept wandering off, pulling me towards sleep. I mentally clawed my way back to Sean a couple of times until, exhausted, sleep won.

The sound of the fence rattling woke me. I sat bolt upright, the thought of zombies attacking the camp shaking any grogginess from my mind, and I grabbed my knife from the windowsill, noting that at least it was daylight outside. I darted across to the door and flung it open. ‘Sophie! Misfit! Anyone!’ Flick’s voice carried across the camp towards me.

‘Flick, what’s wrong?’ I asked as I raced towards the fence and hurriedly fiddled with the lock. Flick clung onto the metal fence with her left hand, her fingers through the bars. In her right hand she held her shotgun. I scanned the area for zombies but saw none.

‘Inside. I’ll tell you inside,’ she said as I opened the panel a little way. Flick slid through the gap and we made our way towards the greying embers of the fire, though I doubted they’d do much to warm us in the frosty morning air. Misfit, Kay and Charlotte all stood outside the caravans by the time we got there, their brows furrowed in concern. Stewart came stumbling out of his caravan a few moments later, his curly hair standing up on one side.

‘Who has woken me from my sleepy time?’ he said. ‘This needs to be good.’

‘Sara spoke!’ said Flick, and a grin spread across her face like a mother announcing her child’s first words.

‘What? She spoke?’ I said, sliding my unneeded knife through my belt.

‘No fucking way,’ said Kay.

‘Clever pudding,’ said Stewart.

‘What did she say, sweetie?’ asked Charlotte, tucking her hair behind her ears and staring at Flick eagerly.

‘Well, when I say spoke, I don’t mean like you or I can speak,’ said Flick. ‘But, you know when she wants something she’ll groan? Well, this morning, she pointed towards the door and I swear she said “out”. Only it was more like “owww” but … but … she spoke!’

‘Are you sure she didn’t just make a new groaning sound … a growl without the grrr?’ asked Stewart.

‘No. The groans come from the back of her throat, but I saw her mouth make the shape of the “owww” sound, like she was forming a word,’ said Flick.

‘Fucking amazing!’ said Kay. ‘Good on her.’

‘Unbelievable. How exciting!’ said Charlotte, and she gave a little squeal and a jump.

‘This is big,’ I said.

‘Really big,’ said Flick, her blue eyes wide. ‘Her recovery could be greater than any of us imagined.’

‘She might heal … completely,’ I said. I put a hand to my forehead, trying to steady my spinning mind. Sam, my little brother Jake, my parents … any one of them could be immune like Sara and Shelby, who we left in Wales. ‘I have to find Sam,’ I said and headed for the fence panel.

‘Sophie,’ Misfit sprang in front of me. ‘Don’t. He’s gone. The chances of him –’

‘But there is a chance!’ I snapped, pushing past him. He grabbed my elbow.

‘Sophie, come on,’ he said, looking deep into my eyes. He never looked anyone else in the eye. I wondered if I was the only person who knew how deep and brown his were.

‘Sophie,’ Charlotte trotted over to me and put a hand on my free arm. ‘Misfit’s right. The immunity must be so rare. You’ll only risk disappointment if you look for Sam, let alone put yourself in danger. We’ve all lost people, sweetie. We all know how you feel. Maybe he is immune –’

‘Don’t encourage her, for fuck’s sake,’ said Kay.

‘Well, we don’t know for sure, do we?’ said Charlotte, glancing over her shoulder at Kay. She turned back to me. ‘We’ll find him together but not right now. You’re emotional and you’ll put yourself in danger. Don’t do anything silly.’

‘My little brother …’ I said. But Charlotte just stared at me. ‘OK,’ I said after a moment. ‘OK, you’re right.’ Misfit let my elbow go and I turned to Flick. ‘I’ll get down to see her as soon as I can. But let me – us – know if anything else happens with Sara.’

‘I will,’ said Flick. ‘I’m going to work on language with her, now I think there’s a strong possibility she can regain it. But, Sophie, as far as Sam is concerned, even if he is immune like Sara, whatever physical developments happen and whatever basic mental functions return, whoever Sara was before she died is gone. Her soul would have left her body, like any soul does after death. Whatever she will be when she’s as healed as she can be, it’ll never be like before.’

‘You don’t know that,’ I said more harshly than I should have.

‘OK. OK, I’ll keep you updated,’ Flick said with a strained smile and, with her shotgun at her side, she slid through the fence panel. I locked it after her and watched until her head bobbed out of view down the track to the Warren. My mind chose to delete the nonsense about souls disappearing and focus on Sara’s miraculous milestone. She spoke. That proved she wasn’t just healing physically but mentally too. But I realised tracking down Sam would have to sit on the back burner; I had a more pressing problem to deal with.

Misfit left camp to take some of the supplies we picked up in Sainsbury’s down to Flick and Sara. He took his hunting stuff with him. I worried about him, with his head injury, but I let him go. Stewart had gone back to bed and Charlotte kept herself busy by practising karate moves on a patch of grass outside the Martello tower. After I had locked up the fence behind Misfit, I stood and watched her for a moment. These days, I could summon up energy when I needed to, like when I had to fight for my life, because adrenaline would kick in. But the rest of the time a lazy sombreness pervaded me. I can’t believe I used to run because I enjoyed it.

‘Where do you get the energy from?’ I said after a while.

Without breaking the fierce concentration on her usually sunny face, Charlotte replied, ‘I’ve been doing this since I could walk. My big brother used to go to Karate lessons and I used to go along and watch with my mum. I started copying the moves and so my mum signed me up too. She thought it might save my life one day.’ Charlotte kicked out at what I assumed was an imaginary zombie. ‘She meant from a rapist or something but she had no idea how right she was … I couldn’t save my family though.’ She punched and kicked at the air, her face red – not just from exertion, I guessed. I thought better of continuing the conversation and left her to train while I headed further into camp.

Kay sat on a filthy rug by the embers of the previous day’s fire, stoking it and adding fresh wood to build it up again, ready to cook on later. I strode over to her.

‘I need to talk to you,’ I said, sitting beside her. ‘But no one else can know.’

‘Secrets, I like it,’ she said, turning to me. ‘Tell me more.’

‘Sean. I don’t believe he killed that girl, Kay. And I don’t think you do either.’

‘I don’t know what I believe,’ said Kay, chucking another piece of wood onto the fire. ‘He turns up the worst for wear on the day a girl’s murdered. He’s cagey and defensive. I know how it looks. But … but I didn’t like the way that lot barged in here and marched him off with no promise of a fair trial. I want to believe he didn’t do it. I … I want him not to have done it.’

I looked Kay in the eye. ‘You fancy him, don’t you?’

‘Don’t be stupid. I don’t know anything about the bloke. How can I know –’

‘Cos sometimes we just know,’ I said. ‘Just like I know we can’t give up on him.’ Kay nodded at me. ‘But, the thing is,’ I went on, ‘I wasn’t completely honest with everyone.’

‘What do you mean?’

I chewed my bottom lip for a moment, wondering how what I was about to reveal would go down. ‘I saw scratches on his arms, before he could cover them with his coat,’ I continued. ‘Soph and Chris know about them now and it’s given them even more fuel to convict him. And there’s more. No one else knows this.’

‘What? Go on …’

‘The day me and Misfit found him on the beach I saw …’

Kay let out a sigh. ‘For fuck’s sake, just spit it out.’

‘I saw blood on his hands. Red blood,’ I said.

‘What? Why didn’t you tell anyone?’

‘Because it made no sense at the time and then when I heard about Lucy, I knew it would point the finger at him. And if I’d found out about Lucy before Sean saved me and Misfit I’d have been like, “He’s your murderer, string him up”. But the point is, he did save me and Misfit. He came back here. Why would he do that if he had killed Lucy? He would have got as far away as possible. He risked his life for ours in more ways than one.

‘Before the St Andrews lot took him, I asked him if he did it and he said no. I asked him if he knows who did and he said yes. He admitted he was involved. He was probably there when it happened but I don’t believe he did it. I don’t think he was searching for his sister, I think he was tracking the murderer. I’m worried the St Andrews lot are going to kill Sean and if he dies we’ll never know who did it. Then none of us will be safe because we’ll lose the only lead we have.’

‘But why would he be so secretive about the murderer if he was innocent?’

‘I don’t know.’ I watched Kay, waiting for her reaction.

‘Blood on his hands,’ she said, with a shake of her head. ‘Talk about getting caught red handed.’

‘You think he did it, now I’ve told you all that?’

‘What I think or don’t think isn’t the problem. The problem is that we’re going to have a fuck of a job convincing anyone else.’

‘So you’ll help me?’

‘Hell yeah. So what’s the plan?’ asked Kay.

‘We break him out of St Andrews before they kill him. You and me.’