Hamsikker: A Zombie Apocalypse Novel (4 page)

“Please,” he whispered. “Please, I need…”

The boy swayed before collapsing to his knees. Javier dismounted and looked around. It could be a trap. The boy might be playing a trick, or his friends could be lying in wait nearby, ready to pounce and take the bike and supplies. They’d most likely kill Javier, and take Rose too. That was
not
going to happen. Javier carefully looked at the houses on both sides of the street, scanning the gardens and fences for watching eyes, but he found none.

“What’s happening?” asked Rose.

Javier watched her withdraw a blade from her boot. “Just keep your eyes open. Yell if you see anything. I’m going to check it out.” Rose remained seated, as Javier hopped off the bike. He walked slowly up to the boy.

“What’s your name?” Javier asked. There was no friendliness in his tone, and he wanted it that way. If he showed the slightest hint of weakness, the boy was likely to use it. In this world, strength was the new currency. Weakness meant you were a victim, and victims died quickly these days.

“Please, help me,” the boy whispered. He looked up and wiped wiry hair away from his eyes with grubby fingers.

Javier pinched his nose. It smelt like the boy had soiled himself, and on closer inspection, it seemed his clothes were drenched in blood. Javier pulled his gun out, but kept it low by his thigh.

“Name. Now.”

The boy’s breathing was shallow and he shuffled forward on his knees. “Noah. I’m Noah. Please sir, I heard you coming and I…” The boy hesitated when he saw the gun, before continuing. “Please, I haven’t eaten in days. Take me with you. It’s hell here. They’re spread thin, but they’re everywhere. I don’t know how to drive. My parents are dead. Well, you know, they were before they came back and... I can’t live like this. Please, sir, please, you have to help me.”

Javier could see the pain in the boy’s eyes; he was telling the truth. He had done well to survive this long if he was on his own. Without weapons, without help, going from house to house looking for food and clean water was no way to live. Javier could testify to that. He heard Rose come up behind him.

“He’s just a kid,” she said. She sheathed the blade and folded her arms. “Is he bit?”

“You hurt?” asked Javier. There was a lot of blood drying on the boy’s clothes.

Noah shook his head. “No, I’m okay. I’m just hungry. Do you have any food?”

The boy’s eyes betrayed his desperation, and they looked from Javier to Rose before settling on the bike, and then the pack of supplies tied to the rear. Javier took a step to the side to block the boy’s view. Young Noah was getting ahead of himself.

“I need to know you’re not bit. Pull up your shirt and turn around, slowly.”

Noah got to his feet and did as he was told. He unbuttoned his shirt, and lifted it showing them his pale, grimy body. His slender frame was filthy, but there were no bite marks.

“I told you, I’m clean,” said Noah as he buttoned his shirt back up.

“You’re hardly clean,” muttered Rose, “stay there.”

She took Javier’s arm and drew him back to the bike so she could talk without being overheard. “Javier, what are we going to do with him? If I shuffled forward, we could just about squeeze him on the back of the bike. Or, I suppose we could find somewhere safe to stay? Maybe feed him up a bit before we send him on his way? We can’t just leave him.”

Javier looked back at Noah, who was waiting patiently. The boy was harmless. God knows how he had made it this long. His parents had probably saved him from much of it, but evidently, they hadn’t quite stuck around long enough to see it through. The boy was starving, and unlikely to make it much longer without help. “You remember me telling you about the native American Eagles. The way they soared through the sky was amazing, so effortless and powerful and free. I saw a programme once where the male returned to the nest, only to find his mate was dead. She’d been poisoned. You know they only mate once in their lives. A dumb animal like that showed more loyalty than any person I’ve ever met.”

Rose looked up at Javier with puppy-dog eyes. “
Hey
, I’m right here.”

“Present company excluded.” Javier knew that was what she wanted to hear. He tapped the gun on his thigh as he thought. “I’m not so convinced we can take him with us. We travel light, remember? We only have enough water for two, and it’s gonna be
real
snug on that bike with three. We’ve got a lot of riding before we even get close to the Canadian border. You want to ride all the way there with Noah holding onto your ass?”

“No, but, oh I don’t know. It’s up to you, honey. You’re my eagle.” Rose got onto the back of the bike. “Better hurry up though. I think we’ve got company.”

Javier looked to where Rose was pointing. An assortment of people, all dead, was slowly making their way down the street in the direction of the bike. Drawn by the noise of the engine, the zombies had emerged from hiding, from the shops and houses, the park, and the abandoned vehicles. All were now heading directly for Javier and Rose.

“Get her started.” Javier watched Rose lean forward and turn over the engine. She winked at her lover, and then he returned to Noah.

Noah smiled, showing Javier a set of brown teeth. “Thank you. I promise I won’t be any trouble. I haven’t got any stuff so we should get going. Should I sit behind your girlfriend?”

Javier sighed. “I’m sorry, kid, but you’re not coming with us.”

“What? But I’m clean! I mean, I’m not bit. I showed you. Come on, man, just take me as far as you can and…” Noah could tell his pleading was falling on deaf ears.

Javier slowly raised the gun, and pointed it at Noah’s chest. From this range, he could not miss. Hell, he wouldn’t miss if he was fifty yards away and it was raining frogs. He probably had a minute before the dead reached them, and he felt for the boy, he really did. At least when his own mother had abandoned him, he had been half prepared for it. He had grown up on the streets, moving from place to place. This kid had almost certainly gone to a good school, been looked after, been well fed by his loving parents, and was in no way prepared for the life he faced now.

“What happened to your parents, Noah?” Javier asked.

“They’re dead, I told you. Look, what’s that got to do with…”

Javier cocked the trigger. “What happened?”

Noah looked frantically from side to side, but the empty streets offered no salvation. “They got caught a few days ago. We were out looking for food and... It was an accident. I managed to get away, but they…”

Noah was trembling. His eyes were filling up, and Javier could guess the rest of the story. Still, he wanted to know.

“Go on.”

Noah wiped his eyes and smeared fresh dirt across his face. “They came back. Yesterday. I didn’t know what to do so I ran. I just left them, and I ran and I ran and… They followed me, along with some others. I tripped and ended up in a creek, just behind the warehouse over there. It was full of dead bodies. They’d all been shot through the head, and they were rotting. The smell was horrific. It was
so
disgusting that I would’ve puked if I had anything inside me to bring up. It must’ve worked as they eventually gave up and left me be. I stayed there all night and day. Then I heard you coming and…”

Noah began sobbing and Javier lowered his weapon. He put it back in his belt as he approached the boy. He slipped an arm around Noah’s shoulders, and the boy instantly clung to him, soaking Javier’s shirt with his tears.

“Hush, Noah, hush.” Javier looked over to see the zombies approaching. He had about thirty seconds to spare. Rose was looking anxious, and signalling for him to hurry up.

“You know what?” Noah kept crying and Javier stroked the boy’s tangled hair. “I had a rough time of it too,” said Javier. “I know how hard it can be on your own, on the streets. I took a shine to a dog once, just a stray, but he seemed to like me. I guess we had something in common so we hung out for a bit. Tucker. Don’t ask me where that name came from, but it stuck. I was young and stupid. Anyway, he started walking with a limp one day, and it just got worse. I was living rough, and didn’t have the money for a vet, so I just let him drift. The day after, he could barely walk at all, and the day after that, he wouldn’t move at all. Tucker was dying, I knew it, but I didn’t know what to do. I just stayed with him until he finally passed. He was in pain, I knew that too, but still I let him live as
long
as I possibly could. He was
my
dog, and I wanted him with me as long as possible. That mangy dog hung on for four days, whimpering in pain at all times of the night. I learned my lesson though, and I vowed never to let a wounded creature suffer again. I was selfish. Best to put ‘em out of their misery right away. You know what I’m saying, son?”

Noah didn’t answer. The crying had stopped, but the boy was holding onto Javier; he had nothing else to hold on to. He was shaking and Javier could almost feel the boy relax. Silently, he drew a knife out from a hidden pocket.

“It’s for the best. I’ll stay with you,” said Javier as he flicked the knife open.

As the blade pierced Noah’s neck, the boy began to struggle, but Javier held him tight. He plunged the knife further, severing the boy’s major artery, and warm blood spewed out. Javier was careful to keep most of it away from him. He didn’t relish being covered in blood. Human bodies could break so easily. Most of the undead died cleanly: no blood, no mess.

Noah kicked, and gripped Javier’s waist, but the life was quickly slipping away from him. The boy hadn’t the energy to fight, and in just a few seconds, it was over. Javier carefully laid Noah on the ground, and wiped his knife clean before sheathing it.

“Sleep well, boy.”

Javier strode back to the bike and got on. He gripped the handlebars, and said nothing. Rose wrapped her arms around him, and let her head fall on his strong back. The bike started moving, and the zombies groaned almost as one as their prey left them. Rose watched them recede with the rest of the town, and began to wonder where they would end up next.

As they passed Noah’s body, Javier looked into the boy’s lifeless eyes. He couldn’t afford to waste a bullet, and had tried to make it as painless as possible. The poor kid would’ve been dead before the week was out. Being eaten alive was no way to go. He had tried to prepare the boy too, as best he could. Javier was not a religious man, and prayers meant nothing to him. He had tried calling on God for help many times when he was younger, but there was never an answer. He hoped the story about Tucker had given the boy some sort of peace. Javier had never had a dog in truth. Who had the time to look after one when you barely had food for yourself? It seemed like the right thing to say at the time. Devoid of any knowledge of the Bible, it seemed like it was appropriate.

Rose looked at Noah longingly. It had been so long since she had felt the life drain out of someone that she wished Noah had come along on the bike. She could’ve slit his throat while he slept, or seduced him and had some fun before she let him bleed out. Javier never let her have fun anymore. The blade in her boot was aching with the need to kill, and she didn’t know how much longer she could hold out. Taking down a zombie just wasn’t the same. It was already dead. Where was the fun in killing something already dead? She needed to feel the warm breath of a man on her face as she cut out his heart. She forced herself to forget about it, and held onto Javier’s waist. One day, Rose thought, Javier won’t be around, and then the time will come.

The bike sped up and Jeffersontown was left behind. The sun rose higher illuminating the barren streets, and the zombies fell upon Noah’s body, devouring it quickly, leaving only scraps of clothing and his shoes behind. They sucked on his bones, wiping them clean, licking off every last inch of blood and tissue. When they were done there was nothing left, so they continued their meandering deadly sojourn down the streets of Jeffersontown, following the trail of the bike.

CHAPTER TWO

“Kill the dead! Kill them all!” screamed Jonas. Saliva and rage flew from his mouth as he launched himself at the nearest zombie, the axe in his hand jarring sickeningly with bone. The zombie’s head neatly fell to the side leaving the decapitated corpse blundering about aimlessly before sinking to the floor. Jonas swung again, heaving the bloody axe from side to side, and sinking its delicious blade into arms and heads. There was no time to think about what he was doing. Within seconds, it had turned to chaos, and he had no idea who was safe and who wasn’t. All he could do was fight.

“Help!”

Jonas turned to see who had cried out. It was Anna. She was locked in the embrace of a dead woman with the creature’s arms wrapped around her body. As Jonas turned to rush to Anna’s aid, the zombie sunk its teeth into the side of her face, tearing off a massive chunk of flesh. Anna howled in pain and Jonas could see the top row of teeth through the hole in her cheek. The zombie sunk its teeth into Anna again, and was quickly joined by another who bit Anna’s neck. In seconds, she was engulfed by them, and Jonas no longer heard any cries for help. His friend was gone, submerged beneath a pile of moving corpses.

A hand grabbed his shoulder, and he whirled around to find the fragile, bony fingers of a zombie gripping him. Grunting with the effort, he managed to lift his axe with his free hand, and slice off the creature’s arm, leaving its bony hand still wrapped around his forearm. He swung again and the axe embedded itself in the dead man’s cranium. Jonas lost his grip on the axe as the zombie fell to the ground, the weapon still firmly lodged in its skull.

Two gunshots rang out, swiftly followed by more, and Jonas looked about him. Cordite and blood filled his nostrils and he pushed another zombie away. Someone was shooting. He prayed they could tell the difference between those who were alive, and those who were dead. The axe was out of reach, and another zombie charged him. Jonas side-stepped the attack at the last second. Grabbing the zombie’s shoulders, he threw it as far away as he could. Its head collided with a concrete wall, and its body slumped to the ground as its skull cracked open. The room began to spin, and all he could hear was shouting and gunshots. The voices were loud, but he didn’t hear a word. The dead moaned and sighed, their soulless whispers fading in and out amongst the tortured screams of his friends. Something pulled at his leg, and he looked down to see the decayed corpse of a young man trying to pull him toward his mouth. He freed himself easily from its grip, and hefted a large boot into the zombie’s gaping jaws, cracking its head back against the cold, hard floor.

As he reached down to retrieve his axe, he realised the attack had stopped. The sounds, the cries, the gunshots, the fighting and breathing and dying; they all ended as abruptly as they’d begun. Jonas left the axe where it was, still stuck in a dead man’s skull, when he saw Tyler with his back against the door. The young man was leaning forward, doubled over as if he was about to vomit. When Tyler looked up their eyes met. Jonas saw such a lack of hope and utter desperation in the young man’s innocent eyes that he wished he could trade places with him. Cliff stood in the middle of the room unloading a clip into some poor dead idiot’s skull, and Jonas knew then who had been doing all the shooting.

“That’s it,” said Cliff as he fired one last time. “That’ll do, pig, that’ll do.”

As the room fell silent, the three men looked at each other in horror. All about the room lay dead bodies. They had walked right into it. The garage was supposed to be safe, supposed to be somewhere they could take solace for a while, and rest. Instead, it had turned into a slaughter. Jonas silently thanked God the others had stayed outside waiting for the all clear. They must have heard the gunshots, yet they had stayed outside. It didn’t matter why, it just mattered that there was still someone alive. After all this, someone still had to be alive.

There was a banging on the door at Tyler’s back, and he turned around. Jonas could see the gun trembling in the young man’s hand, and went over to him.

“I locked it as soon as I saw them coming. They couldn’t have helped us; they would’ve just got in the way. I’m not sure what happened to Anna though. She ran in and... I didn’t think they…”

Tyler fell to his knees and Jonas caught him, lowering him slowly to the bloody ground.

“I’m sorry, I... I need a minute,” said Tyler. His eyes were wild, and Jonas could feel the man’s whole body shaking. The kid had probably never been through anything like that. Hell, none of them had, at least not for a good while. Jonas couldn’t speak for everyone, but it had been a long time since he had been forced to put one of the dead down. The banging on the door increased, and Jonas heard voices from the other side.

“What the hell is going on?” shouted one. Was that Peter or Erik?

“Let us in, let us in,” shouted another.

“God damn it, let us in!” The second voice sounded like Pippa’s.

Jonas could hear sobbing too, and put his hand on the door. The vibrations as it shook in its frame were reassuring, a reminder of gravity, of reality; it was something simple and yet his mind was close to breaking. The shaking door was pulling him back to Earth.

“Hold up. We’re okay. Just hold on and stop shouting, or you’ll draw more of them.”

The banging stopped. Jonas heard faint sobs from the other side. The adrenalin still coursing through his veins wanted to tell him to run, to get away from here, and keep running; just keep running and running and not look back. He put a hand over his mouth as if it would stop the nausea, but the slickness of the blood on his fingers only made him feel worse. A woman’s voice whispered to him through the closed door, becoming muffled as it tried to work its way through the oak.

“Jonas? Are you okay? Jonas?”

There was a lone gunshot from behind him in the room, and the hairs on his neck stood up. The woman’s voice was familiar, yet strange. His senses were highly attuned, yet his memory momentarily left him. What was going on? Who were these people? Why was he standing in a room full of dead people?

“Jonas, please, I need to know you’re okay.” The woman’s voice was faint and broke up into sobs. “Who’s shooting? Please?”

“Hold up,” Jonas said as he tried to recall whose voice it was. Dakota. The woman was Dakota. Random thoughts came to his mind as he pushed the images of the zombie attack to the back of his fizzing brain. She had long brown hair, laughed at bad sit-coms, hated ironing, played tennis on Thursday evenings, liked pizza, hated politicians, and yet, and yet... Something important forced its way to the front. She loved him. She loved
him
. Dakota loved him. God he loved his wife.

“Dakota? Honey, I’m fine. We’ll be out in a minute.”

His stomach churned, and he fought down the still rising urge to vomit. He turned to face Cliff. The man was holstering his gun and scanning the room casually, sizing it up as if deciding on what wallpaper to pick out.

Jonas couldn’t wait any longer. The others wanted answers, and so did he. They had come here on the basis it was safe. Jonas had even said they should all get inside off the street immediately. It was only Erik who had suggested some of them wait, just in case. He always made the right decision. It was something Jonas was trying to do, but he wasn’t convinced he was achieving it yet. Today was a classic example, and now people were dead.

Jonas approached Cliff, looking him up and down. The mechanic’s greasy overalls were covered in bloodstains, the dark grey cotton now a muddy brown.

“You hurt?” Jonas asked him.

Cliff wiped the sweat from his eyes, grinning. “They never laid a finger on me. Easy as pie, brother. Reckon I took at least a dozen down. How about you? I saw you take a few down. You are one mean motherfucker when you’re cornered, Hamsikker.” Cliff removed his cap and slapped it on his thigh. “Hoo-hah!”

Jonas punched Cliff square in the jaw. The mechanic reeled backward, too shocked to react, and he rubbed his jaw. As he slid to a halt, Cliff’s feet found traction on the slain body of a zombie, and he braced himself. He raised his fists, and snarled at Jonas.

“What the hell is
your
problem?” Cliff’s dark eyes were set on Jonas, and he was all too eager for a fight.

“My problem?” Jonas was astounded that Cliff even had to ask. “Do you think this is a game? That was a fucking massacre. Look around you, Cliff. How many of us are left?”

Jonas could see confusion in Cliff’s eyes. They shifted around the room lazily, taking in those who were left standing, and those who had fallen.

“So what?” he shrugged. “It’s not my fault they haven’t learnt how to defend themselves by now.” Cliff softened his stance. He knew Jonas didn’t want to fight; he was just making a point. They had argued bitterly over the last few weeks, and today was just another fight.

Jonas clenched his teeth together, and walked over to the body of a woman wearing slim jeans and a grey cardigan, now drenched in blood. He pointed at the body. “Anna Redburn. Been with us four months.” Jonas pointed out another body in the corner of the room. “James Bracken. Three months. The woman next to him, his wife, Gloria, cooked us supper last night. You may remember telling her the soup needed more salt?”

Jonas bent down putting his arms around the neck of a smaller body. It was just a girl. He carefully lifted the child’s head so it was facing Cliff. Her wide lifeless eyes stared out, her pale cheeks splattered with blood and a ragged, gaping hole in her neck proof of how she had been killed. Jonas’s voice softened. “Mary Redburn. Six years old. Think she should’ve defended herself better? Huh, Cliff? I guess it’s her fault she’s dead.”

The mechanic looked away. Jonas couldn’t tell if it was through embarrassment, or boredom.

“How was I to know? I thought it was safe here. I thought…” Cliff trailed off and looked down at the gun in his hand. His thick sausage fingers were red and sore.

“Sorry, what was that?” asked Jonas. “Was that an apology?” Jonas gently laid Mary down on the sticky floor of the garage. There was so much blood he could almost swim in it. It soaked into his shoes, and squelched every time he took a step.

Cliff looked up, his jaw locked in a stiff expression of anger. “Fuck you, Hamsikker. You can’t make me feel guilty for this. Look there’s likely to be someone still upstairs. I’m sure I saw them moving. We need to move on quickly and…”

“Move on?” scoffed Jonas. “Cliff, do you even hear how you sound? I very much doubt there is anyone alive up there given the state of things down here. Most likely, you just saw a zombie, and took us on a wild goose chase. This place is nothing but a death-trap.”

“I told you, I thought it was safe. How was
I
to know?” Cliff visibly bristled.

“How were
you
supposed to know?” Jonas couldn’t stand any more of Cliff’s defensive attitude. For months, Cliff had been irritating everyone, and his bad attitude was bringing the group down; now he had cost some of them their lives. “Maybe because
you
were the one who told us this was safe. Maybe because
you
were the one who scouted the garage out, and brought us in here. If it isn’t your fault, then whose is it? You’re a first class moron, Cliff, and I’m done with you. You need to leave us. Make your own way from here on in. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t bury any more of my friends. With you around, there won’t be many of us left soon.”

Cliff raised his gun at Jonas. “You know what, Hamsikker? If I have to listen to one more of your sanctimonious bullshit speeches, I’m going to throw up. You’ve been on my case since day one. I came to you, remember? I gave your group everything I had: my guns, food, matches, everything. Do I ever hear a ‘thank you, Cliff,’ or ‘you’re welcome, Cliff’? No. All I hear is you bleating on about eating too many rations, or that damn bitch of yours, Dakota, telling me to pray to Jesus.
Cliff do this. Cliff do that
. Well fuck you. I’m sick of this pathetic group you have. I’m sick of the lot of you. I
will
make my own way. I’ll be better off on my own without you lot dragging me down. I’m taking my shit with me.
My
guns and
my
food. It’s all going with
me
.”

Jonas couldn’t contain himself any longer, and he hurled himself at Cliff. He saw the surprise in Cliff’s eyes, but he didn’t care anymore. The man was a liability. If he was leaving the group, then it was going to be on Jonas’s terms.

Cliff didn’t expect Jonas to attack, and without even thinking pulled the trigger. The gun was aimed straight at Jonas’s head, and Jonas wondered why he was still standing. He flinched as Cliff pulled the trigger again when Jonas was only a foot away. They both realised at the same time that the clicking noise they could hear was the gun’s empty chamber. Cliff had used all the bullets taking down the zombies, and finishing off the wounded survivors making sure they didn’t come back.

Jonas barged into Cliff and they went down in a heap. A large powerful fist crunched into Jonas’s jaw, and he was sure he felt a tooth dislodge itself. He had the advantage of being on top though and head-butted Cliff, breaking the man’s bulbous nose. Jonas pushed himself up off the floor, and punched Cliff square on the chin, causing the man to squeal in pain. Now the man’s nose and jaw were broken, and Jonas couldn’t stop himself. He didn’t care what happened. He couldn’t see, feel, or hear anything, except the pathetic creature beneath him howling in pain. He launched a tirade of punches at Cliff, repeatedly striking him in the head, raining down blows on the man’s face until Cliff’s arms began to sag. Jonas screamed as he pummelled Cliff into the ground. A tornado couldn’t have stopped Jonas then, such was his rage. The mechanic’s eyes had swollen shut, and his face was a bloody, broken mess. The man was not just a liability, but a murderer.