Blood on the Floor: An Undead Adventure (35 page)

On they go. Falling and sliding. Like animals they grunt and fight their way free and away from the Toyota. A life-force between them that refuses to stop or rest. Two more come. Two more that come sliding and covered in slick mud to be hacked with a blade and swatted aside.

A second gained of standing upright with wet strands of hair hanging down her face and the machete gripped tight to view the world about them. A large green now churned into a sea of mud. Four thick wakes mark the passage of vehicles that went across. Two from the Volvo and Toyota and two more from bigger wider and heavier vehicles that reached further into the green. Bodies everywhere. Hundreds of them. Bullet casings in the mud. In those few seconds she works the conclusion of the army truck and the van coming into the green and getting bogged down. She can see the way the bodies lie dead of how they charged from the houses that border both sides of the field. The people in the vehicles got out and fought right here. She sees wooden doors laid end on end forming a path with tyre marks showing where the vehicles drove across them then over the bodies to reach the upper road. Her eyes find the houses on that upper road and the infected running to join the few already at the door of the house that Becky must be in. A few more peel away to come across the green over the bodies of their brethren already slain by men with guns that laid waste and moved on without thought or heed to what they leave behind.

They go to meet them. Wading through the mud that splashes up their legs and sticks to their shoes making their feet heavier but the same thing happens to the infected. They wade and slip and get sucked into holes of wet mud. They still come fast with snarling faces all torn and bloodied. Her mind opens. She sees them differently. She sees them healing and looking more cohesive in movement and manner like they’re changing. Not human and not getting better but more deadly, more organised. The look in their eyes, the way they hold their heads and the way they run using arms to aid balance and poise.

They still die the same. They still get cut open by her blade digging into their throats and her fist punching them hard to send them away. They still get necks broken and thrown aside by a dangerous monster that pisses all over their speed and strength. The bond grows. The courage expands as she learns to hold the weapon and swing it with better aim to cut them down. She learns to use their charging momentum against them and side step to cut as they go past. Paco takes the impact full on with a greater mass and weight. Big men get snapped. Women get snapped.

She reaches the carpet of bodies at the side of the road and starts another treacherous journey to reach the house. Still the infected come. Charging to launch at her. She swipes the blade furiously. Swinging left and right to bury the blade into flesh. Two come in fast. She braces at the last second trying to be like Paco and take the impact but she lacks the body weight to hold her ground and is sent back to sink down into corpses already cut open. She lands hard with hands sinking down into stomachs and through ruined faces. Her fingers get coated in slime and blood. Bones poking through shattered limbs snag her clothes. The two infected woman dive in ready to bite. She rolls to the side, going over and over to avoid the flailing hands intent on raking her skin. A back swipe cuts the machete through one face that peels open but the beast lunges in. She scrabbles back, levering herself one handed while slashing the blade and kicking with her feet. She sinks further into the bodies, rolling and crawling to gain space to fight and hold them off. Paco runs to dive to take both women under his body. Heather rallies in that split second to reverse her direction and slide over the corpses to fight with him. Her hand finds a throat that is gripped and choked. A foot hits her hard, knocking the machete from her hand. She lets it go and drives her thumb down into the eye socket of the one she grips by the neck. The eye pops, goo sprays out but she drives in trying to reach the brain. She goes for the other eye while Paco rolls at her side fighting the other woman and more coming that lunge in. Mouths snapping in all directions. A hand grips her ankle, she kicks out breaking a nose and wrenches her leg free. A head in front of her, she rises to grip it and falls back down. She latches on, strangling from behind while kicking more away. Paco rages and stamps. He rises to drop and lashes out with hard fists that send them flying. He grabs a head, pulls it in and twists. He grabs another while being bitten on the arm. Teeth find his leg. Teeth find his shoulders and hands and he spills blood but he fights and breaks to stamp and kill.

A dirty nasty sordid fight of pain and filth but inch by inch they crawl to gain the road and find feet to run at the door. Snarling with utter rage at doing a thing that must be done. They hit together. Two against many. They hit the back of them and use that momentum to condense their mass so Paco can go to work. He lifts one that gets smashed down into the concrete path then another is wrenched by a grip to the ankle and vicious pull to fling the body up and round to knock more over. Heather rakes with her nails, she gouges eyes and screams with the glory of fighting back. She strangles, kicks and fights like a bastard as the door opens to Becky rushing out with the cleaver swishing to glint in the sun. Ginger hair sodden and plastered down. She screams with rage. She screams and kills with Heather at her side no longer holding a weapon but using bare hands to batter and kill. Paco destroys, killing many for each one they fend off. He does the work. He carries the fight but without them he would be swarmed and taken down. When the infected latch onto him the two women grab legs to heave and use the meat cleaver to fight and saw through limbs. They break fingers, stamp faces and kick skulls in. There is no dirtier a thing to be done than as they do now but they do it anyway and as the last one falls they stand with eyes blazing for the lust of the battle. Becky staggers, dropping to lower her stance to fight on. Heather rages with energy coursing through her body. Paco stands tall, his skin torn and opened in so many places. Bruises on all of them. Blood thick and dripping.

Heather looks at her hands seeing them empty then over to the meat cleaver held by Becky. She sets off, spitting and snorting to clear her nose. Sweat pouring down her face. So many bodies again. She walks over them to the machete then looks over the mud to the Volvo. Her bag is in there. She needs it. Paco has been injured. She wades through the mud, slipping but determined. She finds the bag, hefts it on her back and starts back as Paco climbs over the bodies to get to her. She waves at him to wait, too tired to say anything. He doesn’t wait. He comes to her side as always and walks back with her to Becky waiting by the door.

‘Here?’ Becky asks.

Heather shakes her head, ‘somewhere else…not safe…’

Becky nods, knocking on the door that opens to a teenage boy with ginger hair holding a big knife. His face pale and drawn. More children behind him. Subi, Raj and Amna there amongst them with wide eyes.

‘Come on,’ Heather says, motioning with her head. ‘Don’t touch the bodies…we need to walk.’

‘Out now,’ Becky says. ‘Tommy, you keep them away from us…till we’ve had a clean up.’

‘Yes, mum,’ the ginger haired lad nods quickly, peering round at the blood and gore outside the house.

‘And put that knife down before you stick it in someone.’

‘But…’

‘Now, Tommy.’

‘Yes, mum.’

Thirty Five

No time to wait. No time to delay. If you hesitate they get you. If you fail to react they will get you. Move fast. Be brutal. Be like Paco.

‘Run,’ Heather’s voice gives no room for argument. ‘Stay together. Subi, keep Amna and Raj with you. No talking. Keep moving.’

They get the children onto the road and moving up alongside the green now turned to a battlefield of mud and gore. Seven children herded together to be kept between Heather on one side, Becky on the other and Paco ahead. That he even goes ahead on his own is another step in his ever changing behaviour noticed by Heather but left unvoiced. Now is not the time to ponder and think. Now is the time to move and keep moving.

‘Heather…’

‘Not now, Subi,’ Heather cuts the girl off with a grim smile. She wanted to drop to her knees and hold all three but she’s covered in blood and they can’t delay.

‘What’s going on?’ Becky asks, panting from the exertion of running in such high heat.

‘Dunno,’ Heather replies. ‘They’re going from town to town…’

‘Who is?’

‘The army truck and an armoured van...they’re…’ she stops to gulp breath and check behind, ‘they’re killing them as they go…town to town…’

‘You spoke to them?’ Becky snaps the words out between her own ragged breaths.

She shakes her head, ‘no…just saw them…heard the guns…this is the third or fourth town we’ve seen…’

‘Fuck,’ Becky whispers.

‘Killing hundreds…we saw more running this way…on a hill, hundreds again…’

‘We saw loads,’ Becky says. ‘That town where they got us…more than hundreds…thousand at least. We hid then tried to get out but a few at the back saw us…’

‘A few?’ Heather asks, staring hard at the other woman. ‘Why didn’t they all go back for you?’

‘No idea…’ Becky says grimly. ‘The rest kept going…running…’

‘They were running?’

‘Like soldiers…’

‘What?’

‘Running like soldiers…in time with each other. Like marching…thousand at least.’

‘Christ,’ Heather mutters. The idea of the infected moving in time is sickening. She saw the difference in them today. The cohesion of their movements. She looks at Paco, watching the way he runs now. The fluidity of his motions, his poise and gait. She thought he was healing and becoming less them and more a person but what if he is just changing like they are changing? He seems on the brink of grasping something. She can see it in his eyes and expression. The connection of thoughts and ideas. Even now he is staying ahead and keeping pace with everyone else. He’s even glancing round to check them and not just looking at Heather either.

‘He one of them?’ Becky asks, seeing Heather watching him.

‘No,’ she says quickly, forcefully. She runs on, frowning and pursing her lips. ‘He was…I mean…when I found him he was but…but he saved me and…’ the words die out. ‘He’s getting better…’ she adds in a rush of words.

‘Better?’

She nods, saving air for running. ‘Healing…wounds heal quick…the bites don’t hurt him…nothing…nothing hurts him but…but…’

‘He’s gentle,’ Subi speaks out, running in hand in hand with Rajesh and Amna. ‘He carried Amna and let Raj poke him in the face and…’

‘What?’ Heather blurts. ‘When?’

‘When you went outside to the toilet in the barn. Raj poked him in the face.’

‘Rajesh! I told you not to touch him.’

‘Yeah but…but he didn’t do nuffin,’ Raj gasps.

‘Didn’t do anything,’ Heather corrects. ‘And I told you not to touch him…’

‘Want choclit,’ Amna announces on hearing normal voices and not caring one bit for the bodies everywhere or the fact they’re all running.

‘Not now.’

‘Choclit…’

‘Later, Amna. I promise. I will give you as much choclit as you can eat but not now.’

‘Promise?’

‘I promise,’ Heather says. ‘No talking now. Amna, I said no talking. Raj, hold your sisters hand. We need to get out of here. Do you know where we are?’ She asks Becky.

‘No idea, never been here…’

‘Shit…shit and shit and shit…’

‘Shit.’

‘Amna! That’s a rude word.’

‘Shit.’

‘Oh whatever. Say it as much as you want…’

‘Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit…shit…’

‘Finished?’

‘Shit.’

‘Done?’

‘Yes, Heather.’

‘Good girl. We need to get out of here…but we can’t go back the way we came in case they’re still coming in…but we don’t know what’s ahead or what direction to take…’

‘Shit.’

‘Good girl. We’ll find a lane and get into the countryside. Find a farm or something remote…’

‘Take a car.’

‘No,’ Heather says. ‘Noise…we stay quiet and move as fast as we can on foot…’

‘Car’s faster…’

‘They’ll hear the engine. You saw a thousand. We saw hundreds…they’re here for something. Let them do it while we hide and…’

‘Are you being serious? We’ll take a car and drive to the fort…’

‘Do you know where it is? What direction? What roads do we take? What if we drive into them? We can’t hear them in a car. We can’t drive through a thousand. We stay on foot. Look for a lane off the main road. Kids, look for a lane or a footpath.’

‘Shit.’

‘Okay, Amna.’

‘Fuck.’

‘Amna!’

‘Fuck fuck fuck…’

‘Stop that right now or no choclit later.’

‘Aw but…’

‘DOWN NOW…EVERYONE DOWN DOWN DOWN…’ her voice roars at the infected male running from the corner towards Paco. Heather runs out, sprinting to stay behind Paco who aims straight at the infected male then side steps at the last second to clothes line the beast as Heather runs in swinging her machete down into its neck. She dances back, turning to face the corner. ‘Wait there…’ she runs on with Paco to gain the view. ‘Clear…come on…run now…faster…’

‘They’re too small to run fast,’ Becky says, urging the kids to run without being able to touch them and get them going.

‘They have to,’ Heather says urgently. ‘Get the biggest carrying the smallest….you, what’s your name?’

‘Tommy.’

‘Carry Amna…you, carry that boy…up…now move…faster…run.’

Hard work. Gruelling hard work. Sweat pours to sting eyes. Faces flush red. Legs burn and grow weak. Chests heave for air. Fatigue kicks in. Long days of hiding and now running relentlessly with Heather and Becky snapping at heels, snarling and cursing to keep them going.

More come. Stragglers left behind from the main horde heading to a fight somewhere else. Stragglers that hear the feet and the ragged gasps for air. Stragglers who turn back to run with an urge to bite and pass the infection to take more hosts to fight in the battle that will happen somewhere else. They die from one of their own that leads the front to protect those behind.

No lanes. No footpaths. Just street after street of houses that offer the false sanctuary of a hiding place but Heather is too experienced to fall for that trap now. Staying here in this area is not an option but they’re moving too slowly. She knows they have to get out and leave. Whatever is happening is bad. Those people in the army truck and van are drawing them for a scrap without heed to anyone else. She hates them for that. She detests them with a passion that burns brighter for the red faces of the children made to run in agony and pain.

A flash of yellow in the corner of her eye. She blinks, snaps her head over and calls out. ‘Stop…with me…everyone with me…’ She runs to the side of the house on seeing the bright yellow hose reel that gets yanked and pulled out. The tap is twisted to turn the flow that trickles then thunders from the end. ‘Stand still…’ she sprays them down. A garden hose spraying water on children to clear the sweat and bring temperatures down. Everything frantic and rushed. ‘Paco…come here…’ she drops her bag from her shoulders, kicking it away with her foot. ‘Subi…anti-bac and detergent…’

Subi runs to drop at the bag. She opens the flap and pulls the anti-bac gel and spray detergent out while Heather power hoses Paco. ‘Good girl, take this…spray Becky…Paco, get this into your hands and rub…rub together…good…’ she grabs the detergent to spray over his arms and clothes. ‘Close your eyes,’ she covers his mouth and nose with her hand and sprays his face, his ears, the back of his neck and his shoulders.

‘Heather,’ she turns to see Subi ready with the hose.

‘Go on,’ Heather nods and takes the blast of cooling water jetting into her body. She scrubs the worse of the filth off that comes away easily from a body already slick with sweat.

Nothing is said that isn’t needed to be said. Curt words spoken bluntly. The children gasp air and cool down for a blessed few seconds.

‘Tommy, you take the bag now. Subi, you be ready to get the detergent if we need it. Amna, on my back,’ Heather says, squatting as Amna runs to fling her arms round Heather’s neck. ‘Becky, you take that boy…Amna, listen to me. If I have to fight I will put you down. Go straight to Subi. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Heather.’

‘Good girl.’

‘Can I have choclit now?’

‘Not now…’

‘Can we play with the hose again?’

‘Not now.’

‘Fuck.’

‘Don’t say that word.’

‘Shit?’

‘All day long…ready? We’re going…’

They go faster. The two smallest children now carried on the backs of the women that clutch weapons. Subi cinches the straps on the bag to tighten it on Tommy’s shoulders, fastening the chest and waist strap to hold it steady. Everyone runs. They run hard and get hotter than they were before. Heather could puke. Pain in her head from the car crash. Her neck and shoulders ache like hell. Everything aches like hell. Amna is hot and heavy. Her arms hold too tight but she pushes on and refuses to give an inch. She can see they’re desperate for rest but there is none to be taken. If you want life you pay the cost. If you want to survive you do what it takes. You run. You take the pain because you have to be alive to feel it. You dig inside to whatever spark of something that keeps you going and you turn it into fuel.

‘Lane…’ Subi spots it first and calls out, pointing ahead to the opening of a junction.

‘Good girl…take Paco ahead…check it…’

‘How?’

‘Hand…take his hand…’

‘Is that safe?’ Becky gasps.

‘Anti-bacced…’ Heather heaves for air, shifting to lift Amna higher on her back. Subi runs ahead, reaching for the big man’s hand. Paco glances back to Heather with the most human expression yet and goes with Subi, running ahead hand in hand to reach the lane first.

Gunshots in the air. Warped and echoing from a distance unknown. A few at first. Then more join in. Solid drumming noises of automatic weapons.

‘Go…run…’ Heather urges them on, giving power to her legs to speed up. ‘Subi? Is it clear?’

‘Clear,’ Subi calls out, reaching the junction with Paco.

‘Wait there…good, back with the others…oh shit,’ she winces at the sight of the incline in the road.

‘Shit,’ Amna says into her ear.

‘It is shit,’ Heather says, staring evilly at the hill but taking in the high hedges and the rural appearance. ‘Come on…’ she goes for it. Striding to build up into a jog as the gunshots in the distance keep going. She hates the people firing the weapons but in that agonising state of mind she knows every bullet could be one less infected. Her mind divides. Half of her wanting them to keep going and never stop until they’re all dead while the other half detests them on a molecular level for the sheer arrogance of leaving people in the places they’ve been through.

Uphill they go. Rising steadily to climb a hill that feels like it becomes a mountain that is growing higher with every step they take. The town drops away behind them. Internal gears change to accommodate the rise underfoot and at first it’s almost a relief to have that change. Then thighs start burning from lactic acid building up. Stomachs churn. Hearts thunder and faces grow deeper shades. Still Heather drives them on. Her voice urging them to push and walk faster. When the hedge line breaks she catches glimpses of wide open fields dropping away to a town in the distance where the firing must have come from. She looks ahead to the contour of the lane and land knowing they’ll at least skirt that place by at least a mile. The further they can get the better. Keep going. Find somewhere to hide. This is still too close.

Energy levels, already dangerously low, start to ebb away with fatigue kicking in. The pace eases off. The exertion takes its toll. Breathing comes harder. Mouths opening wider to get more air into lungs. The pain is indescribable and with no sign of stopping. Tommy starts to sag, his head drooping. Subi drops behind him, opening the flap to find water bottles forgotten by Heather. She carries one forward to douse Tommy’s face, sluicing the sweat off him like she saw Heather do for Paco. He revives, smiling in relief at the bottle being pressed to his lips. She finds Raj next. Giving her brother a drink before moving round the children.