Outbreak The Zombie Apocalypse (UK Edition) (15 page)

If I wasn’t so tired I could have jumped out of the way, but I didn’t and the blade caught me a glancing blow on the right forearm, drawing a narrow line of blood. Immediately, I wiped it off, then let it well up again. I glanced at the shed door. 

‘Shut up,’ I said coldly, looking down at my wound.

Not so long ago a cut like that would be a death sentence, but now I had no need to worry and it could be cleaned and dressed later. This time, I climbed halfway back up the ladder before popping the shovel up onto the level ground, laying the ladder flat in the hole after I had stepped back down. I unrolled the pond liner as best I could, doubling it over and folding it up the sides of the hole. I used the ladder to weigh down the liner while I folded and adjusted it, then righted it and ascended for the last time. 

The keys were burning a hole in my pocket. I could do this now. No one could see me; I had checked every angle, had even trespassed on my neighbour’s grounds to check if they could see anything until their black Labrador had spotted me and brought its ball over for me to throw. It had felt good to do that, to do something normal. Not like doing this. 

I had to be sensible. Yes, everything was set to go; now I would have to wait until darkness began to fall later in the evening. I had to sort out the cut on my arm and then find something to keep me occupied.

*                            *                              *

The night had a crisp, cold bite and I knew that the bottle of vodka at my side was not helping me get any warmer. It wasn’t making me feel any better either; it was taking me to a darker place than the one I was already in. Like
that
was possible. 

My plan had been to eat, have a couple of slugs of booze to increase my confidence and then get the job done. I didn’t drink much, but a few shots had turned to half the bottle and before I had taken up camp on the decking, I had phoned Nick and arranged to meet him tomorrow. I sat staring out across the garden, the pond, over to the hole, the grave I had dug. 

A short while earlier a cat had slunk across the lawn to the pond, lapped at the water and then strutted off. I couldn’t recall the last time I had seen an animal in our garden. Birds didn’t even linger for too long. The trees between the furthest reaches of the boundary wall and the river trembled in the light wind that had picked up, silhouetted by the orange glow from the town. The sky wasn’t totally clear of cloud and although the moon was covered, a spattering of bright stars glistened brightly above me. 

I still had one other job to finish tonight. I tried to push myself up off the decking. I had to do it and the first thing I needed were the shed keys. I didn’t even get halfway up before losing my balance a little, and I slumped back to the floor, knocking over the vodka bottle. It rolled away from me, rotating slowly as it went, trailing the alcohol in looping script like when we were first taught joined-up writing in the classroom. 

I got to my feet with a struggle and picked up the now static vodka bottle. I took a mouthful and stepped back towards the house. I stole a look at the shed. There was no sound from there tonight, but there never was during darkness. I wouldn’t have been able to handle that. Since the end of the epidemic I had felt no fear but if I ever heard a howl in the middle of the night, it would drag me back to those terrifying days when it felt the world was on the cusp of capitulation. 

I stepped into the kitchen and pulled the door shut behind me. All the lights in the rooms I used were, as ever, on. I paused at the kitchen table, sank a little more vodka, cradled the bottle in my arms and headed towards the front of the house. I stood unsteady and unsure at the foot of the stairs. I took each step slowly and methodically. With the shuffling steps of a drunk I reached the door to Danny’s room.

How long was it since I had stepped inside? 

Too long.

And I couldn’t bring myself to do it now, not when the only thought coursing through my mind was about how I was going to kill my brother.

Beeping.

Not loud, but not going away either.

Wanting to sleep just a little longer.

Head hurting.

Louder.

Mobile phone. Ringing. My mobile phone ringing. 

My mobile was on the bedside cabinet, screen flashing, ringing.

I reached for it.

I touched the green button and put the phone to my ear, glad just to have silenced the sound that was drilling a hole into my head.

‘Hello.’

‘Matt, mate, it’s Nick.’ 

Who else?

‘Matt, can you hear me?’

‘Yeah, I’m here.’

‘Okay, cool. Look, I’ll pick you up at twelve, save you leaving your car in town overnight.’

Oh man, I could do without this today. I had something to do. I’d forgotten I’d arranged to meet him, but then I’d planned it at a time when I thought the last place I’d want to be today was at home. 

‘Is that okay for you?’ Then slightly more coldly, ‘You’re still planning on coming, aren’t you, mate?’

‘Yeah, yeah, sorry. Just woke up. That’s fine. I’ll see you then. And Nick? Thanks.’

‘Not a worry. See you in an hour.’ And he hung up.

I showered and dressed quickly into loose, light blue jeans and my Wales rugby shirt. I gathered yesterday’s filthy clothes into a bundle and headed down the stairs. Having dumped them into the washer, I popped on the kettle and opened the back door. It was a beautiful morning and the cat was back at the pond, batting the water with a black and white paw as if trying to entice a fish to the surface. 

I watched it play until the kettle boiled, and as I spooned coffee into a cup I heard a car pull across the gravel drive at the front of the house. I closed the back door and flicked the lock, then pulled the blinds down over the door and drew the curtains over the windows. I could hardly keep Nick waiting outside but I didn’t want him to see the new addition to the back garden, and I didn’t mean the cat. I set another coffee cup ready and made my way to the front door. Halfway there, Nick knocked and it was only then I realised how tense I had been as I jumped out of my skin. I opened the door, beckoned for him to follow me into the kitchen, where I lifted the kettle and poured the water into the cups, added milk from the fridge, stirred and passed him his drink without even a word.

‘You look like…’ his smile faltered briefly. ‘Oh, mate. Heavy night? I didn’t think you liked drinking.’

I took a swig of coffee and nodded. ‘I don’t, but I’ll be okay for today. If you can’t pick it for a couple of beers with a mate, when can you?’

‘That’s what I want to hear. Hey, and thanks for opening the gate for me. That must have been a bit too much like hard work on a Saturday morning for you, mate.’

‘Uh? Oh, no worries.’

I’d left the gate open? I hadn’t done that since, well, probably never. It wasn’t like me. Not that it was such a life or death issue anymore, but still not like me at all. 

We drank our coffee in silence.

‘You set?’ he finally asked.

‘Yeah, sure.’ I put my cup into the sink, took my keys, wallet and mobile phone off the counter and slid them into my pockets. 

We headed out to his car, the same Citroen he and his family had pulled up in all that time ago.

Nick hardly stopped talking all the way into town. The kids were doing great, holding their own at school and taking part in a variety of sports and activities. His parents were looking after them today, as they did often these days, but most importantly, the children didn’t seem to mind. He hadn’t mentioned Jenny and I wasn’t going to ask. I don’t know how I would have reacted had he been the one to bring the subject up, but questioning him outright on the break-up of his marriage would have been insensitive.

‘So, how are things with you?’

I looked out of the window. The sky was clear and blue, making the day look warmer than it felt.

‘Matt?’

‘Sorry,’ I replied, winding down the window. ‘I’m okay. Not really done much, but then, when do I?’

‘We need to get you out more, mate. Come over for dinner soon. The kids would love that.’

‘You know what? Next week, I might just do that. I got a couple of things to take care of and then I’ll be back to normal.’

Nick left the car in the main car park in the centre of town and it was just after half past twelve when we entered the King’s Head. I laid a twenty pound note down on the bar as we sat on a couple of the tall stools, and Nick swigged down about half of his pint in one go. My first mouthful tasted disgusting but the second and third got better and we finished at about the same time. Nick signalled the barman
same again
and pulled out his wallet, opening it to reveal a photo of himself, Jenny and the kids. He saw me notice and shrugged.

‘Can’t let go, mate,’ he said as he passed some money over the bar. ‘But look, are you okay? If this is all too much…’

‘No, I’m fine. But what about you? I never ask, but seeing…’ I gestured towards his wallet. ‘I kind of forget, you know.’

‘Nah, well, I don’t exactly bring it up myself.’ He paused, took another long drink. ‘And today ain’t about all that anyway, is it? Let’s not drag ourselves down by bringing up the past, mate.’ He brought his glass to mine with a clink and smiled at me in a way that told me this conversation was over. 

Please.

‘Too right.’ I tapped my glass against his this time. Maybe he did realise how much the past hurt after all. But he could have no idea just how close my past was still.

*                            *                              *

I edged my way back from the bar, politely requesting a clear passage to our table, the two pints of lager in my hands spilling slightly as I was jostled. I placed them down on the table and wiped my hands on the back of my jeans.

‘Sorry,’ I told Nick. ‘Got talking to a couple of people.’

‘Well what do I expect?’ asked Nick, lifting his beer off the table and taking a huge mouthful. ‘If I’m going to have lunch with a local celebrity, what else is going to happen?’

I shrugged, uncomfortable with the tag with which he had labelled me. The King’s Head had filled up quickly after we had arrived and we ended up eating our burgers and chips in the main bar. I was glad to eat; the drinking pace had, if anything, picked up and I was starting to feel less than ideal. I was also concerned that the more beer that went down my throat, the more the urge to confess everything to Nick rose to the surface of my mind.

Would he understand what I had done?

Well, he’d been with us through it all. That was one thing. But had he suffered the loss that I had? Okay, Jenny had left him and the kids afterwards, but that was down to their relationship. It wasn’t the same. 

I was drawn out of my thoughts when Steve, the landlord, approached our table. He extended his hand to me and shook it.

‘Good to see you, Matt,’ he said. ‘Could you boys do me a favour and sit through in the other room? I’ve got diners queued up out the door and I’ve put the football on in the function room for the residents, so dinner tables are at a premium.’

‘Sure,’ I said, taking to my feet and picking up my pint glass.

‘Who’s playing?’ asked Nick, not moving.

‘I don’t know,’ shrugged Steve. ‘But I’ve opened the bar in there.’

‘Come one, Nick,’ I said, nodding my head towards the door.

*                            *                              *

 ‘I know you,’ Tommo said, leaning forward with one elbow on the table, a thick index finger pointing my way. I heard Nick sigh. The bar was busy and we had been forced to share a table with three people neither of us knew. I was too drunk to remember all of their names but Tommo was huge and hard to forget. He also kept staring at me.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ I replied with a smile.

‘I’m sure I do,’ he nodded, the seriousness dropping from his face. ‘It’ll come to me.’

‘I’m going to the toilet,’ said Nick, and he got up, knocking the table with his knees. Without apologising, he headed for the loo.

‘I’m going for some air,’ I said, my stomach starting to churn up the alcohol with the food.

I walked down the narrow corridor to the front door of the pub. The rain that had held off all day was now falling in a light mist. 

‘Mind if I join you?’

I turned round to see Tommo in the doorway.

‘No worries.’

He stood next to me, leaning back against the wall.

‘I knew I knew you,’ he nodded. ‘From what I recall, you went through Hell.’

‘Sorry?’ 

It felt like he was angling to start a conversation about what happened in Usk during the epidemic and as I was about to divert the topic, he surprised me by taking the initiative.

‘I lost my wife.’ He paused, almost gave me a chance to say sorry, or one of the many platitudes I had received over the last year. ‘I was working in Saudi at the time. Me and Kevin, my mate inside, were over there. When I first heard ’bout what was going on, I thought Aberdeen was far enough north to be safe, you know, what with the flight coming into Heathrow and all? But someone jumped a connection and there it was. She died outright, so they told me. Didn’t. You know. Become like them. I’d tried to get home, but there was no chance.’ 

He paused for the longest time.

‘And I gave myself a hard time. I’ll tell you that. Because I wasn’t there. But what could I have done? Would she still be alive? Maybe, but I doubt it. And I’d be gone, too. At least I am around to remember her, just like you are for who you lost, and for the rest of us.’

He stopped and straightened himself up from the wall.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, and I meant it. 

He nodded and walked back inside the pub. Maybe all the people who’d said how sorry they were to me had meant it. Had I been so wrapped up in all that had gone on and had continued to go on in my life to notice that other people did actually care? That the good things I had done and tried to achieve had made an impact upon people? That by shunning Nick I was actually…

‘It’s always about you, isn’t it?’

I turned to see Nick in the doorway.