The Z Word (A Zombie Novel) (8 page)

Chapter Twenty Six

All three of us were standing up straight in the living room, glaring at one another, wondering what the hell to do next. This time a thudding noise came from my front door, which was outside my living room, down the hallway. Predictably, both women glared at me, after all, it was my house, so I felt that I should check it out.

I peered my head out of the living room door and looked straight down the hall where the reception area was, and could see one of them through the frosted glass of the front door. I had no idea if it was lost, if it was trying to get in, or what! What put panic into my body was that there was a reality that this solitary ghoul could end up attracting more of the things.

I made sure that I didn't expose my body when staring at this sight, as I didn't want it to see any kind of movement that could alert what senses it had left. My goal was not to excite the creature and potentially put the three of us in an unnecessary danger.

"What is it?" Clare sharply whispered. "Are some of those cunts by the door again?"

I twitched once I heard Clare say this. I couldn't hold my tongue. "Look," I began. "Don't take this the wrong way, but stop saying the C word, will you."

"Cunt?"

"Yes,
that
word."

"Well, what would
you
call them?"

I shrugged my shoulder and cleared my throat, getting ready to be ridiculed. "Well...they're zombies, aren't they?"

Clare guffawed, "That's ridiculous." And Kelly joined in with the hilarity.

"Why is it ridiculous?"

Answered Clare, "Because zombies belong in the movies."

"Look, I'm sorry to be bringing up the
Z
word, but that's exactly what they are. They shamble, they're dead, but can walk, and destroying the brain is the only way to put them down. So what else would you call them?"

There was a silence between both women and I received no answer from either one of them. Clare finally spoke, "Fine. I won't use the C word anymore, but I'm certainly not calling them the
Z
word, it's ridiculous."

I sighed, realising that arguing with Clare was pointless and a waste of energy. I took another look at my front door to see that the lone zombie had now disappeared. I then shut the living room door.

"Has it gone?" Clare asked.

I nodded my head.

"There you go, nothing to worry about."

"I know," I began to rub my face, "but that front door isn't indestructible. Maybe we should stay upstairs."

"Sod tha'." Kelly stood to her feet, and pulled her 'Easy Tiger' T-shirt over her large belly. "I'm not stayin' upstairs if we don't really have to." She then turned to me and asked, "Where am
I
sleepin' tonight?"

"Oh," I feigned a surprise look. "Are you staying the night?"

Kelly's face was full of confusion and she began to stammer, unable to start her next sentence.

I waved my hand at her and began to laugh. "I'm just messing with you. We're sleeping in the attic, just for safety purposes."

"Phew!" Kelly placed her hand on her chest. "Ye 'ad me there, bloody idiot."

"Look," my voice developed a more serious tone. "If you see any of these things through the front door again, don't move anywhere. I think the movement could arouse them."

"Sexually?" asked Kelly.

"Seriously? No." I glared at Kelly's blank look. I shook my head and announced, "Right, I'm off for a piss."

Kelly cleared her throat to get my attention which made me stop in my tracks. "Can we flush the toilet?"

"We can flush the toilet, I think." I spoke unconvincingly. "I think from the outside they can only hear the running water."

"Well, I hope you've got enough toilet paper." Kelly winked at Clare and nudged her playfully. "I think I'll be ready to curl one out soon."

I shook my head and left for the downstairs bathroom. "For God's sake."

Chapter Twenty Seven

I was the first to wake the next morning. It was early. 6:53am to be exact.

I got out of my sleeping bag and stood to my feet. My back was breaking. The girls used my spare quilts and pillows that I had in black bags, and used some old cushions as a desperate way for some kind of mattress.

Being the gentleman that I was, and still am, I opted just for the sleeping bag and was now paying the price. It had been an awful, uncomfortable night. The odd faint scream from outside was bad enough, but the snoring coming from my two guests, especially from Kelly, was infuriating to say the least.

Clare's snoring wasn't so loud, it was just a bit wheezy and her nose would whistle occasionally. It was damn annoying, but Kelly was a lot worse. She occasionally talked in her sleep, and spoke mainly about her recently-deceased boyfriend, and on two occasions she had farted very loudly. At this point, I was seriously thinking about punching her in the tit to shut her up, but I refrained from doing so. I had then looked at my wristwatch to see it was nearly two in the morning, and found that the second time she broke wind was enough to clear a room and made me feel sick.

I think it must have been around three when I eventually nodded off, and when I woke up, I felt reasonably okay, not like a man who only had three hours sleep.

I opened the attic's hatch and lowered the ladders down. Once I climbed down into the bedroom, I walked, still wearing the clothes I had on the day before, to the landing and checked the bathroom and the other two bedrooms. Everything seemed reasonably normal, apart from the blood on my bedroom carpet where I had to kill little Abbie. I didn't cry, but that scene made me very sad.

I cleared my throat and made my way downstairs. I kept my fingers crossed that the electricity was still working and flicked the switch of my kettle and produced a smile when the red light came on.

I went into the downstairs bathroom to brush my teeth, and saw the bath full of cold water. I was going to give it another day, drain it, then fill it up again. At least if the water stopped running today, I thought, we'd have a bath full of fresher, drinkable water.

Thankfully, my bath was clean-ish and there was not a single hair in sight—not that the odd hair would bother anyone if they were dying of thirst. Through the kitchen blinds, I could see the sun trying to shine through and knew it was a glorious day outside, weather-wise.

I went over to the kitchen blinds and pulled them up, allowing the sun to shine fully through. I decided to take it a stage further and open the window by an inch. I heard the sweet sound of birds tweeting their merry tune; they had no idea what was happening in the real world, and for a few seconds with my eyes closed, I pretended that it was a normal day.

As soon as the kettle was boiled, I made my tea and then popped two slices of bread in the toaster. I had half a loaf left and had no idea if I would see another loaf of bread again. I opened the fridge and pulled out the tub of butter, something else that could be a thing of the past, and placed it by the toaster. I looked down to the floor and thought about my sister in Canada. Then I felt it. I can't explain, but something didn't seem right.

I slowly lifted my head and could feel that there was something to my left. I turned my head slowly and saw the horrific sight. My legs were temporarily paralysed, but I eventually managed to get my legs working. I slowly walked over to the window, and gently shut it without making too much noise.

I looked at the dead ghoul that glared at me from the outside with its deathly gaze, and wondered how the hell it had got in. The gate, I thought. It was only three feet in height and not the strongest. But what made it come into the garden in the first place? Did it follow something, or was it just shambling and looking for anything to devour?

It was a foot away from the window and didn't snarl, grab or advance near the glass, it just stared. I knew this would be a different scenario if I was out in the garden, but thankfully I wasn't. The sight of the ex-male, human was bad enough with its rotting features and half-torn out neck, which was, I assumed, how he got the virus in the first place, but something else had managed to elevate my heart rate to an alarming level.

From behind my 'admirer' another one appeared.

At this point I was panicking, and ran to the living room and saw another three by the tree, near Abbie's body. "Fuck."

I knew if I didn't do something, more would follow.

I assumed the gate was fucked, and thought that if I could somehow remove these five things and get a cupboard from upstairs to block the entrance off where the gate used to be, that could keep us safe, or at least I hoped.

I sat with my cup of tea in the back room that used to be the living room before the extension, and wondered how I was going to break the news to the girls once they had woken up.

We had two choices.

First choice: We could ride this little invasion out and hope that they eventually disappeared to go elsewhere, although there was also a chance the house could be surrounded by the end of the day, putting us in terrible danger.

Second choice: We would have to kill the things in the garden, and block off the entrance where the gate was and hope that would keep anymore 'strays' from getting on my premises.

I was certain that the girls would opt for the first choice, but I thought, overall, the second choice would be better from a safety point of view. I suppose that was easy for me to think that, now that I had experience of killing two of them. The ones outside used to be adults, not like Abbie and her brother, and I felt that five could be too many to take out. I had a feeling Clare would tag along, if need be, but Kelly could be a different story altogether.

Once I finished my tea, I stood to my feet.

Chapter Twenty Eight

Once the girls woke up, I made them a drink and breakfast. Once they had cleaned themselves, I broke the news to them.

I'm not going to go into boring detail about how the discussion went when I suggested to the girls what I thought we should do about our predicament, but a lot of foul language was used by both females.

At first they were adamant that we should just stay indoors, but after an hour, Clare had come to her senses. For long-term safety, the second choice was the most feasible. Clare came up with a better, and safer, idea than what I had originally planned, and I agreed with what she suggested from a safety point of view.

We were going to kill them, but from
inside
the house.

We emptied one of the bedroom cupboards from upstairs and carried the furniture down and placed it into the living room. Once the zombies were taken care of, I was going to move the cupboard against the garden gate for added insurance.

I took the mop from behind the kitchen door and took out some brown tape from the middle-kitchen drawer. I took out a steak knife from the wooden knife-rack that sat on the worktop, near the fridge. "Fuck it." I took out another three knives and taped them to the end of the mop handle.

I had now a homemade weapon, with four blades attached to the end of the mop handle in a circular motion. Once I was finished, I tried to think of something else to make, but my mind went blank.

I went into the living room to see the girls.

"So what's happening?" Clare was the first to ask me a question.

"I've made something in the kitchen." I then raised my hand at a nervous-looking Kelly. "It's okay. I don't think you'll need to do anything. I think I could probably pick them off one-by-one, if all goes well." I looked at Clare and explained in short, "I'm going to open the kitchen window and just stab at them as they approach, like you suggested."

"Okay," Clare and Kelly both said simultaneously.

I added, "You don't have to come and watch; I'll let you know once I'm done."

"Thank bloody frig for tha'," Kelly said. "If I see another one o' those things, I'll throw up."

"I'll stay with you," Clare stood to her feet, "if you want."

I smiled at Clare. "Yeah, that would be great."

Clare and I walked into the kitchen and we both gasped when we saw two of the things, their faces almost pressed up against the kitchen window.

"Are you sure we have to do this?" Clare asked, I could hear the shiver in her voice.

"If we get rid of these five, then it'll be safe to close the gate and block the entrance off with the cupboard. If we just leave things how they are, with the gate open, there could be dozens in the back garden by the end of the day. I think these things don't have the capability to climb or punch, but the sheer weight and volume of these things could break the windows of the house. Then we're fucked."

"So what shall I do?"

"Just stay by me." I pointed to the mop handle with the four steak knives taped to it. "I hope this works."

Clare looked at the contraption and then glared at me. "Wouldn't it have been better if you just had the one steak knife attached to it?"

I was lost in thought. "Why?"

"Well, with just the one steak knife, it could be enough to penetrate the eye, which would also penetrate the brain. It's a lot softer than trying to break through a skull.

Shit, I thought, she was right.

I nodded my head in agreement. "You may have a point there."

"Try it like it is." Clare shrugged her shoulders. "See how it goes."

I sighed, "Okay. I'm going to open the window."

I hesitantly walked over and opened the window by a couple of inches. Two of the things immediately put their heads inside and I picked up the mop handle and began stabbing at the two things.

Clare was right. It was quite difficult, but I managed to penetrate one of them, the knives rammed into its forehead. It was enough to make the thing drop out of sight, but as it fell, the embedded knives almost went with it. I held onto the mop handle as the thing fell, and managed to keep a hold of it. I lifted the handle up and saw that all four blades still remained attached at the end, but had loosened a little.

I looked at the dark gunk that dripped off the knives and into the sink. I wasted no time ramming the contraption into the second one whose flapping arms were inside the kitchen. It was as if he wanted to climb inside, but didn't know how to achieve such an action. He—or it—grabbed at the knives and never flinched as the jaggy blades slowly sank into his flesh as it tightly gripped its hand around some of them.

I could hear Clare retching behind me as I tried to pull the mop handle and free the knives from the thing's hand. I took one step forward and pushed the handle forward. The four weapons went into its forehead, the same way I killed the first one, only this time I quickly pulled the handle back, before the thing dropped and took the steak knives with it.

I looked to Clare. "You okay?"

She nodded; she stared in fascination. We both looked at the remaining three that were now heading towards the kitchen window. It seemed too easy. Clare tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Can I have a go?"

"Sure." I handed the homemade weapon to Clare and I saw that two of the knives had loosened even more. "Let's try your method," I said, and took out an oven glove from the middle drawer, put it on, then took off three of the knives by grabbing the blades and yanking them off, leaving just the one left attached to the handle.

Clare flashed me a nervous smile and approached the opened window.

"It's a three foot climb. They won't be able to get in," I tried to reassure her.

She nodded without looking at me and stuck the weapon out of the window, half of the handle was inside, the other half was outside. The first one that got near was a female, elderly, but it never stopped Clare thrusting the stick forward, the knife, attached at the end, plunging perfectly into the soft eye, all the way in. It fell immediately, and Clare let go of the handle. I watched my homemade contraption slip out of the window as the weapon went with the falling body.

"Shit. Sorry," was Clare's response.

"It's okay," I said. It wasn't okay, in fact, I was a little pissed off, but it wasn't really Clare's fault.

There was two left, and they were both trudging their way to the kitchen window. A thought skated across my mind. I turned to Clare. "Clare. Stand near the window, just so they can see you. Don't move until I come back in."

I left the kitchen to go upstairs and heard her say, "In? Does that mean you're going...out?"