Remains of the Dead (12 page)

Cahz looked round from his rummaging. Elspeth was sitting with tears streaming down her cheeks. Her short salt and pepper hair combined with the deep wrinkles from her weeping made her look like a pensioner. Cahz guessed she was actually younger than that from the way she talked and the way she had run the gauntlet of zombies.

He gazed at her blankly, trying to decide what to do. He could go across there, sit down next to her, and put a comforting arm round her. But what would be the point of that? Cahz didn’t know her, had only just met her and there was no point investing time in getting to know her as she’d be dead in a few hours.

He might as well go over there and put a bullet in her brain—wouldn’t that be the kindest thing to do?

As prudent as it was, Cahz knew he shouldn’t dispatch her. Elspeth was a longstanding companion of Ryan’s and he’d no doubt want to say his goodbyes.

He sucked in a brisk draft of air through his teeth. He turned back to the first crate and retrieved the dressing.

“Let me have a look at that,” he said as he walked over.

“I’m sorry,” Elspeth sobbed.

Cahz pulled back the blood soaked collar. The bite mark beneath was black. The contagion’s spread was marked against her pale skin by the tendrils of dark veins. He unpeeled the dressing from its packaging and gently placed it over the wound. The stark white plaster showed the contrast of the greying dead skin and infected deep blue blood vessels.

“Nothing to apologise about, lady,” Cahz said, staring down at his boots. “Whole world’s shit and there’s no rhyme or reason to it.”

“I was supposed to look after her.” Elspeth looked down at the baby. The child’s face was still raw looking with a thick red welt.

“You did your best. Sometimes that just isn’t enough.” Cahz paused a long moment. “I was about to try and empathize with you, lady—tell you about the people I let down. But it’s not the same.”

Elspeth glanced down at her blood stained blouse. “No, it’s not. You’ve not been infected.”

Cahz straightened at the comment. He felt the tainted mucus in his mouth rise. He shook his head. “There’s nothing anybody can do for the infected.”

“There is one thing,” Elspeth butted in, looking down at his side arm.

Cahz saw where Elspeth was going with this train of thought.

“How do you want to play it?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I just know I don’t want to be a nuisance. I don’t want to come back and… well, you know.”

Cahz did know.

“When?” he asked solemnly.

Elspeth took a deep swallow. “Not right now, if that’s what you mean.”

She gently stroked the baby’s uninjured cheek. The small child pursed its lips and made a sucking motion in its sleep. “She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?”

“She sure is.”

Cahz meant it. Even with the nasty scratch covering one side of her infant face, her wide eyes and pug nose were still cute. He felt a cold shudder run down his spine at the thought of having to shoot such an angelic face.

He picked himself up and made his way back over to the supplies.

“Best sort through this stuff,” he said, trying to distance himself from the child and the appalling notion.

* * *

“Find anything useful, boss?” Cannon asked, looking at the heap of crates.

“Nothing much. The most important things are these.” Cahz stood up and ushered Cannon over. “There are six of these five gallon water bottles,” Cahz said as he gently kicked the first container with his toe. The water inside sloshed against the clear walls.

“Will they be safe to drink?” Cannon asked.

“Should be fine,” Ryan said. “Water doesn’t go off so as long as the lids are on tight. There might be a bit of a taint off the plastic but it won’t kill you.”

“You know that for sure?” Cannon asked.

Ryan thumped his chest. “Never done me any harm.”

“If you’re worried we can drop a couple of purification tablets in,” Cahz said.

“We got some?”

“Over here. There’s a ton of camping equipment.” Cahz looked over at Ryan. “You and your pals obviously didn’t need it.”

Ryan peered into the open crate. “We had as much of this shit as we needed. It was mainly food and weapons we took, when we could find them.”

“Any medical supplies boss?” Cannon asked.

“Yeah, boxes of the stuff,” Cahz replied. “Why, you needing something?”

“Got some gloves and some disinfectant?”

“You carrying an injury?” Ryan asked, suspicious of the big soldier.

“Nope. I just want to get the crud off my kit.” Cannon looked down at the gore soaked body armour and the smudges of gunk on his uniform. “I don’t want to wipe my nose and get the infection off this shit.”

“Here.” Cahz tossed two tissue box sized containers over in rapid succession.

Cannon caught the first box with ease but fumbled slightly to keep hold of the second. When he finally had both under control he read the packaging.

“One hundred vinyl gloves.” Cannon turned the second box round. “And alcohol wipes.”

“Closest thing to a disinfectant I’ve found,” Cahz said.

Cannon sat down on the edge of a crate and started opening the boxes.

“I suggest we all take the time to clean ourselves up,” Cahz said looking round at everyone. He saw Elspeth lying on a camp bed oblivious to the conversation, cradling the infected child. In reality he knew he was only addressing Ryan. It was too late for them.

“So there’s no chow?” Cannon said as he scraped at his body armour with what looked like a moist towelette left over from an in-flight meal. The wad of tissue was becoming more and more discoloured with every pass. Streaks of black, brown, red and even green began accumulating on the white cloth as Cannon went about cleaning.

“Don’t know how you can think of food right now,” Cahz confessed.

“Just taking stock. Need to know our assets and liabilities.” Cannon kept working at the sodden fabric as he spoke.

“We do have dinner, courtesy of Bates.” Cahz held up the webbing Bates had passed him. “But it’s early for lunch just yet.” He placed the pouches down with the rest of the useful material scavenged.

“Fantastic,” Ryan said, eyeing up the pack.

“And I think we should be saving that,” Cahz added.

“Saving it?” Ryan asked. “What for? I mean, your man’s coming back in a few hours and I’m fucking starving.”

Cahz sat down on a crate. “He is, but it’ll be a while.”

“Well, how long?”

Looking down at his watch, Cahz went through some mental arithmetic. “If all goes well I’d expect to see him sometime after seventeen hundred hours.”

“And if it don’t go well?” Cannon said slowly.

“Worst case scenario, old Captain Warden won’t let him fly without six hours shuteye,” Cahz answered.

“That’s a full day then,” Ryan said.

“We’ve got a secure location and enough water. We’ve got one MRE and they’re quite generous so even split between four that ought to keep your belly quiet.” Cahz levelled his last comment at Ryan.

“Come on, I’ve not eaten a proper meal in…” Ryan paused. “Well, for fucking years.”

“You’ll be right at home with the MRE then. It ain’t a proper meal,” Cannon quipped.

“You’re lucid and mobile. I don’t doubt you’re hungry, but the longer we save the food the better,” Cahz said.

“Why if we’re getting picked up in a while can I not have some now?”

“No, we’ll wait and eat it tonight. That will give us the energy we need when we need it. For now just sit tight and wait.”

“You forgettin’ something, boss?” Cannon looked over at Elspeth.

Cahz gave a sigh and nodded.

“Lady,” he called over.

Elspeth was looking drawn and groggy.

“My name is Elspeth,” she said indignantly. “You haven’t used my name once.”

Cahz realised that he’d been avoiding using her name. Maybe in his unconscious mind he’d reasoned it would be easier to deal with a nameless zombie.

“Sorry Elspeth, but this concerns you.” Cahz lowered his tone. “Have you decided how you want to go out?” Even when forced to address the issue directly he still couldn’t help but use euphemisms.

Elspeth straightened up. “I don’t want to be shot, if that’s what you’re asking. At least not until I’ve come back.”

“That’s fine, Elspeth,” Ryan said. “I’ll keep an eye on you.”

“I don’t want you to kill my granddaughter either,” Elspeth added. “Not while I’m alive.”

Ryan hung his head and bit his lip. He knelt down beside her and reached out his hand. Gently, so as not to disturb her, he moved some of the swaddling away from her face.

“How’s she doing?” Ryan whispered gazing at the cherub like features.

“She’s been able to fall asleep, bless her,” Elspeth said. “Look, Ryan, it’s not right her not having a name. I know you’ve had it hard with Samantha’s death, we all have.”

Ryan knelt there, quietly looking at the child.

“I don’t expect a christening or anything like that,” Elspeth added. “I mean, God stopped listening a long time ago. Ryan,” Elspeth said more firmly, “Ryan, it’s not right not naming her.” She looked Ryan in the eye. Her old translucent skin showed the snaking lines of contaminated veins beneath.

Ryan’s bottom lipped trembled involuntary as he thought about Sam.

“You can’t let her die without giving her a name.” Elspeth passed the bundle over to her father. “Samantha would have wanted you to.”

Ryan took the sleeping child with shaking hands. He bit at his lip trying to keep the tears in.

“Oh Elspeth!” Ryan blurted out and started crying.

Elspeth put her arms around the young man and hugged him close.

Cahz nudged his colleague and whispered, “Show me the roof.”

Cannon nodded and the pair made their exit.

“Can’t sit here all morning,” Ali said as he stood up.

For lack of a better idea he had decided to try the partially open window again, this time a little more cautiously. He scrambled up onto the broken balcony and dislodged another makeshift crowbar. He wedged the metal bar into the open window and again applied pressure, this time more evenly and warily.

As soon as he started he could hear the PVC frame of the window groan but nothing more.

He pushed a little harder. Still the window didn’t budge.

Ali started leaning into the push then pulsing the force to try and fatigue the joints and bolts keeping the window locked. The third time he applied tension there was a faint ripping sound, like a strip of fabric being torn. Ali pulled on the bar again and this time the noise was slightly louder.

He put the metal rod down and examined the gap. The plastic surround was buckled and chewed and the metal joint the window pivoted on was scraped but still intact. It hadn’t budged.

Ali stood resting for a moment with his hand on the frame. He stroked his long beard with his free hand debating if he should keep at it or formulate some other plan.

Something was sticky against his fingertips. He pulled his hand back from resting on the window frame and looked at it. Pressing his thumb to his grubby fingertips they felt tacky from the sealant. Ali now looked closely at the window frame where he’d been leaning.

The weathered white surround wasn’t flush with the wall.

Changing tack, Ali grasped hold of the edge and pulled. The plastic flexed under the pressure and then started to creak. He tugged at the surround and little by little it started to give.

He stood back and wiped the sweat from his forehead. The gap around the edging was tiny but wide enough now to force his crowbar in.

He jammed the metal rod in and started prying at the window frame. The plastic and glass and metal groaned and splintered and popped.

Ali worked back and forward like an oarsman on some ancient galley. Back and forward, back and forward, teasing out pulses of pressure with each stroke. The plastic buckled and cracked until suddenly there was a crunching noise like a fissure cleaving through ice.

Ali stood back again to see a spindly line of cracks on the glass radiating out from the corner he was working on. He rubbed his greasy palms against his thighs and resumed his task.

Within a couple of minutes the first of the four sides of framing snapped away. Beneath the façade was the raw brickwork and behind the cavity the inside wall. With the inside of the glazing unit exposed, removing the last three sheets of plastic edging was relatively easy.

Soon Ali stood triumphant in front of the exposed brickwork. Only a few wedges of packing secured the window in place and there were gaps between the glazing unit and the wall large enough to squeeze even his thick fingers through.

With a mighty kick he battered the window. The glass cracked and the clunk of the impact echoed around the sill but the window didn’t topple into the room.

He scratched his head. He remembered his mother telling him not to do that or he’d go bald. He’d never expected this innocuous habit would lead to the barren patch on top of his head but no doubt his mother would have taken it as evidence that she was right.

“You’re going to have to come out somehow,” Ali said to his inanimate adversary.

Guessing the weight of the unit was a two-man lift, Ali stepped to the side out of the window’s way. He slipped his thick fingers into the top edge of the frame at his side and braced his body against the wall. He took a deep breath and pulled.

At first nothing happened, then a wedge of packing material snapped and popped out. With that the whole thing screeched and started to slide. Ali flung the plastic frame away from the wall with all his strength. The last few strips of wooden packing disentangled and the huge window unit toppled out, like a tall oak being felled. Instinctively Ali took a step back as the double-glazing unit impacted with the twisted and damaged railing.

The glass shattered and crunched. The whole balcony shuddered with the impact. The metal squealed at the mistreatment.

Ali stumbled as the decking twisted and wrenched against its fixtures. Then the unit tumbled back towards him and collided with the deck. Ali jumped back flat against the wall as the force of the impact reverberated through the whole building. With a loud ping a retaining bolt snapped and the balcony lunged downward.