The Cost of Living (8 page)

STUART

MONDAY 29 JUNE – 11:05am

Pissing rain has
stopped us doing anything for almost a week. None of us have been outside,
other than when I’ve gone out to collect the rainwater. We’ve got plenty now. I
filled the bath. Sally’s paddling pool is full outside too, and loads of pots
and pans and buckets. It’ll last us ages.

It’s
a beautiful day today though. It’s warm and dry, not a cloud overhead. We have
a slow start, then sit around the breakfast table, eating thin porridge that
Gabby cooked on the camping stove. She made it with water. It’s not the best,
but it’s warm and it’s enough. I tell the kids it’s important to make sure we
have at least one hot meal each day. Sally has a paddy and throws her spoon on
the floor, but I know how to deal with this.

‘If
you don’t eat up, you won’t grow to be big and strong.’

‘Don’t
want to be big and strong,’ she says, looking straight at me. ‘Don’t want to be
anything.’

‘Now
that’s just silly talk. Listen, how about this... if you eat all your
breakfast, maybe Mummy and Daddy will take you for a walk.’

‘What...
outside?’ Nathan says, his interest piqued.

‘Well
we could just walk around the lounge if you’d rather.’

‘But
isn’t that—?’

‘It’s
fine,’ I tell him. ‘It’s been a couple of weeks since you and I were out there.
I’ve been keeping an eye on the development and I’ve not seen any signs of
trouble. I reckon if we stay close to the house and keep the noise down, we’ll
be fine.’

‘I’ll
stay inside,’ he says, surprising me.

‘Come
on, Nath... it’ll do you good.’

‘No
thanks,’ he says again. ‘I’ve seen what it’s like out there.’

‘Suit
yourself. Mum, Sally, Hannah and me are going out.’

‘No.’

‘Where
will we go?’ Sally asks.

‘Oh,
not far... we can take a ball out and play, okay?’

‘Okay,’
she says as she starts shovelling down what’s left of her porridge.

#

‘Come on, love,
there’s nothing to be scared of.’

Sally’s
standing at the end of the drive, the tips of her toes literally at the point
where our drive ends and the pavement starts. We’ve been coaxing her for a
couple of minutes, but she’s holding back. I’m carrying Hannah. ‘Come on,
sweetheart,’ Gabby says. ‘Isn’t it lovely to be out?’

‘Don’t
like it.’

‘Why
not?’

‘Too
quiet.’

She
has a point. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to the lack of noise these
days. ‘Quiet’s nice,’ I tell her. ‘Maybe it’s not that it’s too quiet now,
maybe it was too loud before?’

‘Don’t
like it,’ she says again.

This
is stupid. What’s the point? If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it
right. I have an idea. ‘What about Smudge?’

Her
expression changes. Her face lights up. ‘Is he still here?’

‘He’s
a cat, he’ll be here somewhere I’m sure. He’s probably just hiding in the grass
over there...’

I
gesture over towards the green at the front of the development. When I look
back, Sally’s taken a couple of steps forward. She’s on the pavement now,
standing on tiptoes, craning her neck to see. ‘Why’s the grass so long?’ she
asks.

‘Everybody’s
too busy to cut it right now,’ Gabby explains. ‘Lots of people are having to
stay indoors like we are.’

She
seems to swallow that. ‘Daddy could do it,’ she says. ‘You could do it,
couldn’t you, Daddy? You haven’t been to work for ages.’

‘There’s
too much for me to do here, love. I don’t have time to go to work anymore. Lots
of things have changed.’

‘I
know. I don’t like it.’

‘You’ll
get used to it. We all will.’

She’s
let go of Gabby’s hand now. She walks further from the house, crossing the road
towards the green, and I signal for Gabby to let her. She has to explore on her
own, has to find her confidence. Then she shouts for the bloody cat at the top
of her voice, and I feel myself freeze.
Don’t get angry. She can’t help it.

‘Smudge!’
she yells again.

‘Don’t,
love,’ I tell her, running over and crouching down in the grass so I’m at her
level. ‘Don’t make so much noise. Cats have got amazing hearing. He’ll know
we’re outside soon enough.’

‘But...’

‘But
nothing. No noise, Sally, okay?’

‘Okay.’

I
leave her to it again and look back at the house, wondering if Nathan’s coming
out. He’s upstairs, watching from the window. I gesture for him to come down
and join us, but he won’t budge. Oh well. He’ll change his tune soon enough.

‘You
think it’s all right to be out here?’ Gabby asked.

‘Sure
it is. It’s a good thing. I can feel the tension easing, can’t you?’

‘I
guess...’

‘It’s
good to get out of the house. Good to get a change of scene. You know, love,
you’ve been talking all this time about how we’re stuck at home, and that might
be true, but we’ve got all this place too. We could have a house each if we
want, not that I’d want that. But you see what I’m saying? It’d be good for
Nathan to have more space, and for Sally and Hannah to have more room to play,
don’t you think?’

‘I
suppose.’

‘You
don’t sound sure. Come on, love, you have to be more positive.’

‘I’m
trying... it’s hard, that’s all.’

For
a second I think Sally’s gone. I look around and see her walking further into
the development. She’s okay as long as she stays in view and doesn’t go behind
any of the houses or around the corner. I gave her a pep talk before we came
out. I didn’t want her finding what’s left of that woman I had to deal with a
few weeks back. I should have gone and done something with her remains before
today but I couldn’t face it. Maybe later...

Sally’s
back. She comes running over, a huge grin on her face. She grabs my hand and
starts pulling it. ‘Can we play, Daddy? Can we play?’

‘Who?
You and me?’

‘No,
silly... me and the little girl.’

‘What
little girl?’

‘In
that house,’ she says, and she points to one of the other houses across the
way.

‘There’s
no one there,’ I tell her. ‘There’s no one else anywhere around here now, love,
just us.’

‘Us
and the girl,’ she says, indignant.

I’m
curious. ‘Show me.’

She
holds my hand and takes me over towards the house she was standing in front of.
All the way I’m telling her how she shouldn’t make stuff up, and how it’s more
important than ever that we’re all honest because we’re going to have to rely
on each other for all kinds of things now and we’re always going to... and I
stop right in front of the house and look up at the window. That wasn’t there
before, I’m sure. I would have definitely noticed that.

I
feel my pulse start to quicken.

One
of the downstairs windows is covered in a mass of tiny handprints. There are
smears of blood and grease everywhere, cross-hatched scratch marks where a
kid’s fingers have been clawing at the glass. I pick Sally up and hold her face
close to my chest as I take another step forward.

‘What’s
wrong, Stu...?’ Gabby asks, startling me. I turn to try and stop her coming any
closer. I try to tell her, but my throat’s dry.

When
I look back at the house, there’s an infected kid’s face staring at me. I
stagger back, still holding onto Sally, almost tripping over my feet with the
shock. I want to stop Gabby seeing this and getting any closer but it’s too
late. She knows something’s up... she knows there’s something here...

‘Stuart,
what’s going on?’

I
don’t answer, just bundle Sally over to her and try to put myself between her
and the window, blocking her way through. But all I can see whichever way I
look is that little kid’s ghastly face: her pallid skin, sunken eyes, the
brown, germ-filled drool trickling from the corners of her twitching mouth.

‘There’s
a girl in that house,’ Sally says. ‘I want to play with her.’

‘She’s
not very well, love,’ I manage to say. ‘She can’t come out.’

‘But
Daddy... I haven’t got any friends anymore.’

And
the emotion’s too much now, and I can feel myself welling up. I try to explain
to Gabby and hold her back but she just pushes past me to see for herself. And
from here I realise she can see the body in the cul-de-sac, and I can feel
everything unravelling...

‘You
have to listen to me, Gab...’

But
no one’s listening to anything I say now.

The
dead kid in the house hammers on the glass. When she can’t get out, she takes a
run up and throws herself at the window. And again. And again.

Gabby’s
screaming. Sally’s screaming because Gabby’s screaming. And all I can do is
stand and watch as what’s left of this bloody kid walks back then throws itself
at the window again and again and again.

‘Do
something?’ Gabby shouts, but what can I do?

‘Like
what?’

‘Make
her stop.’

‘How?’

She
knows there isn’t an answer and she turns and runs back to the house, Sally
still in her arms. I stay there a few minutes longer, long enough to be sure
the girl won’t get out. The glass is stronger than her skull. She keeps
throwing herself at the window until her head’s just a mass of bloody pulp and
she can’t move anymore.

On
the way back to the house, I see Nathan coming the other way. ‘Get back
indoors,’ I tell him.

‘Not
yet. You need to see this.’

He
looks scared, the expression on his face bordering on panic. I don’t know how
much more of this I can take today, but I do as he says and I follow him deeper
into the development.

‘What,
son?’

‘I’ve
been watching,’ he says. ‘I need to show you. It’s been going on for a while
but I didn’t think it mattered, then you went outside and it all went crazy.’

‘What
are you talking about?’

He
stops on the green. ‘This, Dad, look. I was watching with your binoculars. As
soon as they heard Sally scream they started.’

‘Who
started?’

‘Them,’
he says gesturing.

Fuck
me.

There
are infected all around the front of the development. More than I can count.
The longer I watch, the more I can see. They’re coming from all angles, all
converging on the barrier Nathan and I built to keep them out. Okay, so they’re
not here in massive numbers yet, but the potential’s there.

‘We
need to get back indoors,’ I tell him, feeling my legs weaken. ‘As long as
we’re quiet and out of sight, they’ll disappear, won’t they?’

‘They
did before. Like I said, Dad, I’ve been watching. I snuck out a few times and
checked.’

I
should be angry with him, but I’m not. I’m relieved.

‘So
let’s get back to the house. And we’ll keep this quiet, okay? I don’t want your
mother and your sister upset more than they already are.’

‘So
what happens when Sally wants to play outside again?’

‘We’ll
cross that bridge when we come to it. Come on, son, let’s go.’

‘Not
yet, Dad. Wait. There’s more.’

He
walks, and I follow. He leads me through an open gate between two houses, then
down the length of a back garden to the fence at the end. There’s a metal
tool-store in one corner. He gets up onto it and gestures for me to do the
same.

‘How
long have you been coming out here?’

‘Long
enough.’

‘For
Christ’s sake, son, have I been wasting my breath all this time? The risk of
infection was—’

‘I
know about the infection, Dad. I
do
listen to you, even if you think I
don’t. I haven’t taken any risks. I haven’t touched anything. Not even what’s
left of the body around the corner. Did you do that, by the way?’

‘That
woman... yes, I did.’

‘Sick.’

I
think that’s a complement, but it’s of little importance now. I climb up onto
the tool-store next to him, and look over. Immediately backing onto the fence
here are the six-foot high metal railings around the perimeter of the
development, and Jesus Christ, there are even more infected bodies here. There
must be hundreds of them in total, crushed against the barrier, piled up in
places with arms and legs and even heads pushed through the gaps like they’re
reaching out for us. I’m up on tiptoes now, looking directly down, and here
they’re almost impossible to distinguish from one another. I can’t see where
one ends and the next begins; just a solid, endless mass of diseased flesh.

‘Like
I said, don’t tell your mother. I don’t want her worrying more than’s necessary...’