Blood on the Floor: An Undead Adventure (28 page)

‘I WANT CHOCLIT….GET ORF ME…GET ORF…GETORFGETORFGETORF.’ Amna thrashes and bucks and kicks with pure fury but Paco holds her nonplussed, holding his hands out from his body as she flails out. She told him to hold her. He will hold her.

A determined Heather leaves the shop followed by a quiet Rajesh who stares in awe at Paco Maguire carrying his little sister who is going crazy. Subi comes next, sullen and tearful.

Heather stomps on. The bag heavy on her back as the sweat trickles down her face. She stomps with Paco at her side holding Amna out in front who screams and wails with relentless energy. It takes time for the girl to fall quiet and go still to be drawn in and held closer to sleep nestled in his arms with Heather checking she’s nowhere near his mouth. She spots the sheen on Paco’s head then worries his sweat could infect Amna. Without thinking, without thought, without hesitation she wipes a finger across his forehead and shoves it in her mouth.

‘Urgh that’s gross,’ Rajesh recoils in horror.

‘Shut up,’ Heather snaps, feeling instantly stupid at both the idea of what she just did and being caught doing it. The sweat is salty and disgusting and her stomach heaves but it’s done. She doesn’t turn or become infected. His sweat is safe. Subi saw it too and blinks in confusion.

‘Is Paco one of them?’

‘No.’

‘But…’

‘No more questions.’

They walk on, leaving the village behind and once more venturing into the heartland of rural England where the lanes are long and bordered by high sided hedges. Gates lead to fields. Unmade roads lead to farms but they walk with Heather longing for the first time since it started to meet other survivors.

They put miles under their feet with a trudge that goes on and on. Rajesh and Subi both enjoying the fresh air and freedom of being outside. The sugar withdrawing headaches ease off as they flood their bodies with clean water. Colour grows in their cheeks and Amna sleeps, exhausted after her temper tantrum. Snuggled curled in the arms of a man that will never grow tired and who will always walk to stay by the side of the woman who carries the heavy bag.

‘How old are you?’ Rajesh breaks the silence, his face showing his mind whirling with thoughts and questions. Heather winces inwardly from a natural reaction to any question asked about herself. If she answers this they will ask more.
Where are you from? Do you have any family? Where’s your mum?

‘Heather, how old are you?’

‘No questions.’

‘But…’

‘Raj, Heather said no questions,’ Subi says, shooting a dark look at Heather.

‘I’m bored,’ Rajesh announces after another thirty seconds of silent walking. He looks round, expecting someone to immediately alleviate his boredom but they don’t. They just walk instead. ‘Play I spy?’ He asks with a surge of hope. ‘I spy with my little eye something beginning with…Aich.’

‘Heather,’ Subi says immediately.

‘Oh,’ Rajesh pouts at his first go being guessed straight away.

‘I spy with my little eye something beginning with…Aich.’

‘Heather!’

‘No. You had Heather.’

‘You can have Heather.’

‘It’s not Heather.’

‘Oh. I give up.’

‘Guess.’

‘S’too hard,’ Rajesh whines. ‘I give up.’

‘You’re just giving up so you can have your go.’

‘I’ve tried, Rajesh says. ‘S’too hard.’

‘Guess.’

‘Can’t.’

‘Guess.’

‘Can’t.’

‘Can’t take your go then.’

‘No! I said…you said…’

‘Hedge,’ Heather says, rolling her eyes.

‘Heather got it,’ Subi says with a smug smile at her brother. ‘Your go, Heather.’

‘No.’

‘But you guesseded it,’ Rajesh says as though stunned why someone wouldn’t want to take their go.

‘Guessed not guesseded and no,’ Heather says.

‘Can I have your go?’

‘If you want.’

‘Yes! I spy with…’

‘That’s not fair,’ Subi cuts in.

‘Heather said I could. I spy with my little…’

‘Not playing,’ Subi says.

‘But it’s my go.’

‘It was Heather’s go.’

‘She said I could go.’

‘Enough.’

Silence reigns as it rains. Drizzle light and warm bringing instant delight for being so unexpected. Heather stares up at the sky, amazed at not seeing the clouds gathering as her face soaks from the fine downpour. She closes her eyes and feels the heat in her cheeks easing. Subi and Rajesh do the same, staring up but with eyes open to marvel at the sensation. It gets heavier, becoming a shower of water drenching hair and clothes but still glorious in the feeling it brings.

The shower becomes rain. Proper rain that comes down harder every few seconds until the lane becomes an orchestra of noise with a myriad of drum beats sounding from drops hitting leaves, bushes, trees and the road surface. Rajesh laughs in delight, skipping ahead with his arms held out at his side. Subi grins, opening her mouth to drink pure rainfall. Heather sighs heavy and long as her hair starts plastering to her scalp. Paco shows no reaction, Amna still asleep in his arms with the water soaking her face.

It’s beautiful. The air is warm and the rain brings a sultry feel of exoticness but still it gets harder, growing from the drizzle to a shower to a hard rain lashing down in waves as Rajesh whoops and spins runs round with his arms held out. Subi laughs at the sight. Her own heart thrilling at the sensations and noise.

Still harder it comes. Lashing with a hardness that creates noise so loud it deadens the fall of their feet. Heather gasps and does the same as Subi by tilting her head back to drink it down. It sheets down, lashing the road and fields. Straight rain with no wind that comes vertically. They’re drenched in seconds. Soaked through with t shirts clinging to frames and faces running with hundreds of tiny rivers that drip from strands of hair. The view becomes a blur of grey as they are cleansed and rinsed to smile and laugh in delight and wonder but still the deluge comes harder and heavier. The noise of it becomes a thing. A real thing of sound. A wall of water with a soundtrack blended to give depth and context. Rajesh shouts out, his voice high-pitched as he stamps down through the puddles already forming.

‘Down now,’ Amna looks round at the new world, waking to feel soaked but grinning at the sight. She lunges to drop, expecting Paco to lower her down as Heather darts in to ease her down. The little girl runs ahead to join her brother. Laughing and giggling in the grey squall to jump through deep water. Everything comes alive with motion. Sploshes from fat drops that strike at a pace that cannot be seen for the speed they drop. Millions of drops in every direction that move the bushes and trees. Water runs from the verge to pour down the lane in streams and rivers that are run through and kicked to be sprayed up. Even Subi goes forward to play. She tried to hold decorum to show maturity but the feeling is just too great so she jumps and runs to splash Raj and Amna.

Like the fog a few days ago they become encapsulated in a cocoon of grey air. Visibility reduced but still the children play and run. Heather lets them. Hopefully they’ll tire themselves out and stop talking so much. She takes the opportunity to loop her arms through Paco’s and smiles while looking up at him. He doesn’t smile back but she’s learning the expressions in his eyes that makes her grin wider.

That rain keeps coming and Heather is right. The children tire and trudge back with flushed faces to gulp air and resume their walking through a windless monsoon. The initial pleasure fades to a sense of contentment that lasts for a time until their clothes start getting heavy from being water logged. Their shoes too become soaked from walking through ever deepening puddles that form in the dips and valleys. It becomes hard work. Amna starts moaning and gets lifted to be carried by Paco. Rajesh falls quiet. Subi pensive and drenched. Heather keeps them going. They have to reach a town to find survivors. They have to find survivors. They must.

The town comes out of the grey. Houses spied at the side of the road adding to the cacophony of sounds with the water pouring from drains to pour like open taps on the hard ground. Rainfall on window panes and slate tiles. Heather blinks and shakes her head to keep her eyes clear. Her jeans are chafing her thighs. Her t shirt clings uncomfortably. She spots houses they could use for shelter and wait for the rain to end but that won’t find survivors so she keeps them moving. Heading down streets and roads bordered by houses. Past the entrance to a nice estate of detached executive houses. Past cars and play parks. Past pubs and more houses but no signs of life anywhere. No infected either. They see bodies here and there but the rain blots the view and any blood on the floor is lost under the deepening surface water.

She starts to get a sinking feeling that she’ll be stuck with them for another night. It’s getting late and even she knows they can’t stay out in this rain without getting cold and drained. They’re bodies will be weak already from the lack of decent food and the thought of being around sick children with snotty noses sends a fresh wave of worry through her mind. That means more new clothes too, she groans at the thought of needing more stuff, more bags, more tantrums from Amna and it all comes back to finding the town centre to find the shops. She could search the houses but that thought sends terror into her heart with no idea of what or who is inside. This rain will give them protection anyway. The noise muffles their own movements and the constant flow coming down will remove any smell they leave in the air.

She follows the wider roads and signboards towards the High Street. Trudging on with feet kicking up sprays of water. She rolls her shoulders with a grunt to ease the straps of the bag rubbing on the bunched up wet material of her t shirt.

‘Cold,’ Amna says, shivering as she tries to push harder into Paco.

They’ll have to find somewhere. Shit. Another night of squabbles and tantrums. Finding clothes. Cleaning and feeding them. Heather decides, there and then in the sodden greyness of a torrential downpour that she does not like children.

‘Chris! You put that hood back up right now…’

‘Aw mum…’

‘I said put it up. You’ll catch your death in this…everyone here?’

Heather freezes, her hand shooting out to stop Paco. She presses a finger to her mouth, showing the children to stay quiet. Voices ahead, muted low and unseen. The instinct to run and hide as strong as ever. People are bad. Stay away from people.

‘Cor, s’raining cats an’ dogs ain’t it. Mind you, washes that blood away,’ a man’s voice, older and rasping but friendly. ‘Eh you lot? Bit of rain never ‘urt no one. I bet that mister ‘owie and his lot don’t let the rain stop ‘em eh? You fink the living army get bothered by a bit of rain? They’s don’t mind it. It’s warm though. Nice and warm.’

‘How far now?’

‘Tommy,’ the female voice groans but the tone is good natured. ‘You keep asking and I keep saying I don’t know. We’ll get there when we get there.’

‘Is the fort big?’ Tommy asks, his whispered voice drifting down.

‘How does she know that?’ The older male voice asks with a chuckle. ‘Becky ain’t been there…’

The words strike Heather’s brain. Mum. Fort. Children’s voices. Older male voices. The instinct to hide is strong but…

‘Where’s his sunglasses? Amna…’

‘I put them in your bag,’ Subi says, whispering to match Heather’s tone while frowning at the direction of the voices.

She drops the bag to get the flap open, rooting through the tins and wipes to find the glasses now all scratched and bent. She straightens them out, glancing up to the grey wall of water as the voices drift closer. She gets them on Paco’s face, wedging the loops behind his ears.

‘Stop,’ the female voice hisses, making Heather snatch a glimpse round to see figures obscured by the rain. ‘Go back…’ the voice whispers, urgent and worried.

‘It’s okay,’ Heather calls out softly, ‘we’re survivors…’

‘Survivors?’ The woman calls ahead.

‘Yes, down here…it’s okay…’ Heather adds, casting another quick glance at Paco.

They come down warily. Emerging from the rain with eyes fixed and staring. A large group that makes Heather feel instantly nervous. Adults in front and at the sides forming a crude circle to keep the children in the middle. She spots the knives, sticks and bats clutched in hands that were holding them low but now they rise ready to be used. They’re all in lightweight waterproof coats too with hoods up. Stout walking shoes on every pair of feet. Sensible clothes of muted colours and every person has a full rucksack. The contrast between the two groups is stark. Three wringing wet children one of whom still wears bright red shoes and a big man covered in bandages wearing sunglasses in the rain. She winces at how they must look and the guarded looks of suspicion and wariness coming back from furtive eyes staring out under those hoods

‘How many?’ The woman in the lead brings her group to a stop, staring through the squall. She holds the meat cleaver out to her side. A huge thing that is held in a hand that doesn’t tremble or shake.

‘Er…five,’ Heather calls back. ‘I’ve got three children and…’

‘You armed?’