Tiredness Kills - A Zombie Tale (6 page)

As usually happens at the
kind of parties that involve car keys being thrown into and then picked out of
a large bowl, the other four had swapped partners.

 
Jon was now running alongside his other work
mate Josh.

 
Jordan, having witnessed Kelly slip over on
discarded entrails and banging her knee hard on the ground, had scooped her up
and was now charging onwards with her on his shoulders.
 
Kelly was using the new height advantage and
long broomstick to her full advantage whacking and stabbing any sorry zombie
that got in their way as they headed for yet another staircase, only this time
one that would take them downstairs to possible safety.

 
This tactic proved to be successful, aided by
the high ceilings within the building affording plenty of broomstick- swinging
manoeuvrability. Jordan ploughed through the long corridors lined with foaming
and viscous shambling shells of former people like a thoroughbred bull on
steroids whilst tough girl Kelly, perched on strong shoulders wielded her long
weapon in strong arcs, clearing the way through and looking slightly
reminiscent of the Warrior Queen
Boudica
.

Passing through a slightly
lower door frame had nearly put paid to this winning combination, but a last
minute dramatic duck from the feisty female had ensured a safe passage to the
next level of the game. They had made it to the almost empty stairway.

 
Warrior Queen and trusty steed- 13; Evil man
eating zombies- 0.

Dismounting onto a painful
knee, Kelly hadn't noticed the dark shadow lurking under the stairwell until it
was almost upon her, but Jordon, still red in the face and puffing hard from
the recent charge, luckily had. He drew back his arm, clenched a fist and
unleashed a punch that would have impressed any boxing promoter.

Teeth, foam and blood
peppered the wall as one of the office staff, who had been unable to flee
downstairs bite-free was knocked backwards several feet by the facial punch,
throwing him flat against the one wall that housed an empty ladder fixing. The
metal holding that jutted out, punctured straight through the slightly
decomposing skin, splitting part of the skull and piercing the soft brain,
pinning the poor crazy looking monster in a standing position.

“Is he dead?” asked Kelly,
moving towards him and waving her hand across his face. Before Jordan could
answer, the monster let out a blood- curdling groan.

“Not quite!” said a shaken
Jordan, punching in the code to the locked door, “But he
aint
going nowhere fast!”

A limping Kelly followed him
through the door, with one last look behind her hoping to see if any of the
four friends that they had become separated from had caught up yet. 'Please
make it' she whispered before shutting the door behind her.

Josh and Jon had needed to
make a slight detour due to the large amount of zombie arousal that had been
produced en route as a result of the warrior charge. Keeping fairly low to the
ground, they manoeuvred through the maze of upturned tables and chairs littered
throughout the chaotic restaurant. Josh was in front with a crowbar whilst Jon
moved backwards, his extended Wolverine claws ready to swipe any biters that
may pick up their trail.

They made it unchallenged to
the double doors that led to the walkway, which would then take them to the
corridor behind the Burger King unit. Josh gingerly pushed open the heavy
doors, and, seeing no movement from his line of sight, beckoned Jon to follow.
Once through, they quietly dragged some of the large cages that were stored
there over to barricade the doors against any future zombie pressure.
 
They then slowly edged their way along the
walkway. On reaching the entrance to the corridor they heard the unmistakable
sound of the undead growling for food.
 
Carefully, they peered round the concrete wall. A group of around ten
hungry zombies were clawing away at the closed walk-in chiller door,
thankfully
 
no longer possessing the
brain power to figure out that the fridge could
 
easily be accessed by pulling the large grey
handle on the
 
outside of the door.

“There are people in the
fridge!” whispered Jon.

“Ye, ye,” agreed Josh “What
do you reckon we should do?”

“Well, it's hard to say
really, 'cos we don't know who's in there. I don't fancy risking my life for
anyone I don't like. You know, the kind that wouldn't do it for us. And anyway
they might have died of hypothermia by now!” said Jon diplomatically.

Josh did a quick mental
re-run of who he had seen and flirted with that day and suddenly grabbed Jon's
arm. “Charlie and Sian are on shift today!” he announced in an excited whisper.
“They are so hot. It's worth the risk, mate. Just think how grateful they would
be if we rescued 'em. God I'd earn so many man points!”

“
Jeeesh
,
man, think with your brain for once! Mind you.......” he then paused to ponder,
“We could be heroes! Let's do this!”

 
Using mainly hand gestures and low whispers
and a quick game of rock paper scissors, they formulated a plan that involved
Josh ramming the zombies out of the way with one of the wheeled cages whilst
Jon opened the door, rescuing the distressed maidens by hurling them onto the
trolley on its return journey and then heading hell- for- leather down the
corridor towards the stairs.

 
Without the luxury of time to iron out any
possible flaws in the plan, they stood, trolley poised, and on the count of
three the two hopeful heroes- complete with a spontaneous war cry- skidded
round the corner and ran the hundred yards or so towards the grisly mob,
gathering speed as they went.

 
Impact was sudden, successful and a tad mushy
due to an onset of mild decomposition. Josh had managed to ram the group good
and hard, and the blithering bodies had been forced several feet out of the way
and had landed in a heap on top of each other further up the corridor. All
except for one. It was difficult to tell now if they were male or female, such
was their grotesque appearance, but one had grabbed hold of the back of the
cage and it took Josh a good few smashes against the wall for its fingers to
break off and its body to slither to the floor.

 
Jon had got the chiller door open to reveal
four terrified faces. Two were male and two were indeed Charlie and Sian.

 
“It's your lucky day! Quick, come on!” he
gestured for the captives to leave with him.

However, the two men were
having none of it and practically shoved the girls out in order to pull the
door back shut. The two cold and terrified females looked to Jon for guidance,
and with a nonchalant grin he pointed to the wheeled cage that was now steaming
back down towards them. Josh ordered them to climb into the cage and, with
impressive man power, Jon and Josh pushed the cage onwards through the pot
washing area, ploughing into soft bodies along the way- knocking them in all
directions and not stopping until they reached the double doors to the
staircase.

Once there, the girls jumped
off the blood splattered chariot and followed
  
their saviours down the stairs. At the bottom, they all came to a
screeching halt as they almost ran into the growling bloody mess that was once
a member of the office crew. The girls screamed as it lifted its arms towards
them, but Jon noticed that it seemed unable to move forwards.

“It's stuck on the wall!” he
announced, assessing the situation without getting too close. “The metal spike
for the ladder has stuck in its skull; but it's not in far enough to kill it!”

 
And with that, he beckoned to Josh and, whilst
taking his phone out of his pocket, he sang the word “Selfie!”

 
To the girls' disgust, Jon and Josh, being
sure to stand just out of arms reach, contorted their faces into a zombie
grimace and the world’s most extraordinary 'Selfie' ever was taken.

“We can't just leave him
hanging Josh!” said Jon putting his phone away and opening the coded door.

“I know, I know!” replied
Josh holding his crowbar out in front of him.

 
What followed was a crunchy, squishy sound as
Josh, placing the crowbar flat against the zombies forehead pushed its head
back a few inches, forcing the ladder spike straight through its brain. Dodging
the blood spray he turned to see the look of pure horror on the two girls'
faces.

 
“What?” he asked flippantly. “It's a mercy
killing! You'll get used to it!”

Upstairs in the arcade, Scott
and Ant were assessing their situation.

 
“Right!” said Ant, “Show me the map on your
arm. There's safety in numbers, so we need to find our way down to this Stores
place and find the others!”

Scott rolled up his sleeve to
reveal an arm covered in just a big black make-up smudge. Completely undecipherable.

“Oh great, Scott! Nice one!
Do you suppose they may have left a trail of breadcrumbs for us to follow just
in case you ruined the map?” hissed Ant sarcastically.

“
Dunno
'
if you noticed, Anthony, but whilst you stood watching with your brolly in the
air I happened to be working up quite a sweat killing a bloody zombie. It's not
my fault that girl doesn't buy water proof make-up now, is it?” answered Scott
with great irritation. An uneasy tension built up between the two best
mates.
 
After glaring at each other for a
couple of minutes, they both realised the futility of the stand -off.

“God, I'm sorry mate. This '
ent
the time to fall out is it?
Time to re-assess!”

They both peered out from
their place of safety. Mayhem was still reigning supreme across the large food
hall. Unbelievably, there were other survivors dotted about being hunted down
relentlessly. Zombie groans filled the air, entwined by the occasional blood
-curdling scream as yet another poor victim became lunch. The two comrades checked
their arsenal. Between them they carried one of Kelly's crowbars, a samurai
umbrella, a chair leg and a wallet ninja.

“We need more weapons,” said
Scott looking at the dismal collection. “Food isn't gonna' be much help here,
as I can't see us decapitating this lot with sausages or distracting them with
a cup of tea! We need to get over to the W.H. Smith shop and see what's there!”

In between them and the shop
was the large charity bear, swinging its arms around and getting more and more
frustrated at its inability to get near enough to anyone to feast on.

“I have an idea,” said Scott,
“How sharp is your brolly?”

“Sharp enough to have killed
the bloke in the supermarket. Why?”

“If we can pierce
Padsey
or whatever his name is, we can use him as a human
shield to get us across to the shop!”

“Human shield?” laughed Ant.
“He's anything but human! But okay, let's give it a go!”

They waited until the bear
was shuffling along with his back to them and then headed towards it like a
couple of pent- up lions out hunting. Scott, keeping low, ran around to its front
and, on seeing Ant holding the brolly in position behind it, he gave an
almighty shove on the bear's padded belly. At the same time Ant launched the
pointed steel brolly right into its back. It was an almighty team effort and it
worked. They had skewered the cuddly foam -spitting animal.

Slightly shocked at the
success of the operation, Scott joined Ant at the rear and they proceeded to
control the beast to their advantage, forcing it to clear a path through the
bloody undead, knocking them into different directions. This plan worked a
treat right up to the shop entrance where, unbeknownst to them, a small zombie
baby was crawling across their path. The stumbling feet of the bear tripped
over the poor little thing and it fell forwards in a heap, forcing them to let
go of the umbrella. Ant, with the reflexes of a cat, grabbed the handle and
yanked it out of the back of the creature. It made a soft slurping sound as it
bought out with it a couple of internal organs, one of which could easily have
been a liver. Without stopping to think, Ant held the weapon aloft, as you
would a javelin. Scott watched as his mate coldly and accurately launched the
bloody umbrella straight into the open mouth of the snarling bear.

 
“What you saying now,
Tosser
?”
he demanded with a slightly maniacal look on his face!

“Watch out!” shouted Scott,
pointing to the small crawling baby that was trying to clamp on to Ant's leg.

Ant shook his leg free of the
snarling ankle biter and lifted his other foot in line with the baby's head. He
pulled back his right foot as if to take a penalty and then.....

“I can't do it,
Scott......I'm not an animal!” he spluttered.

 
Both men looked at the tiny creature, who
inspite
of its frothing, growling and crazed look had still
managed to retain some of its cuteness.

“Nah nor me!” admitted Scott.
“Anyway it's got no teeth! It can't do much harm!”

Carefully stepping around the
foaming baby, Scott and Ant hurried on into the retail store to gather any kind
of ammunition that they could use in this crazy war.

 
Inside the shop there were a few different
types of zombie. From their crouched position in the book department, amongst
the littered remnants of what looked like the aftermath of a full blown riot,
they observed their enemy. It was easy enough to spot a zombie due to its
movement, its overall look, and the deep guttural groans that it emitted; but
there was also
  
an obvious range
becoming apparent. A zombie's physical ability depends solely on the person's
previous strengths and weaknesses.
 
As
the two men peered around shelves and over display stands in the limited light
that they were afforded, it became fairly apparent that the large majority of
the shop's clientele at the point of outbreak had been a coach- load of
pensioners either going to, or returning from their jollies on the coast.
Obviously this type of zombie wasn't their immediate concern, unlike the small
group of teenage boys not far from them who still had pubescent energy coursing
through their veins (and which was obvious
 
from their louder, more aggressive behaviour and, judging by the glossy
magazines
 
scattered around them, it
wasn't hard to work out which shelf they had been perusing).

“We need to get them first,”
said Ant, pointing to the rather loud group of about four youths. “What can we
use?”

Scott looked around for
inspiration. “Well, we've got books..... Oh, and newspapers!” he replied
carefully reaching out to the stand and dragging a couple of copies of
the
 
Financial
Times
towards him.

“Are you serious, mate? What
are we meant to do with them? Fan them till they fall over?
or
bore them to death?”

“Trust me!” said Scott
retrieving another defrosted Tip Top from his pocket.
 
After rolling a newspaper into a tube, he
proceeded to sprinkle the sugary contents over the paper. As Ant watched in
total astonishment- and some degree of disbelief- Scott folded the long tube in
half and passed it to Ant as he proceeded to make another.

“What the fuck is this?” asked
Ant, taking the gift rather ungratefully.

“That, my friend, is a '
Millwall
Brick' Scott answered, using up his last Tip Top.
“Tap the end on your head!”

“Ouch!” came the reply. “Nice
work Scotty boy!
 
Let's crush some
whippersnappers' skulls!”

The two men quietly
approached the snarling gang from behind and launched their attack. The first
victim went down like a sack of spuds after Scott, using his hand-made device,
whacked the kid's cranium with such force that it split on contact. Ant bagged the
second kill with a sideways swipe which sent the second kid reeling, smashing
his head on the concrete floor as blood gushed out of its ears. The third kid,
upon smelling the fresh meat, had turned and was approaching Scott, mouth open
and positively slavering in anticipation. Unable to swing his brick in time, he
shouted Ant's name. In a second Ant had unleashed his trusty brolly and
embedded through the kid's eyeball- a move that was fast becoming his
favourite.

The fourth teenaged freak was
slightly bigger and stronger than
it'scohorts
, and
although the
Millwall
bricks had been a God send,
they had begun to fray and come apart. Luckily for our heroes, a hungry zombie
doesn't look at what's lying on the floor and the body of one of his
unfortunate mates became the catalyst in his downfall.

Wriggling on the ground,
pathetically trying to get upright,
a
tin fell out of
its jeans pocket. It was a small black tin with a bright, unmistakable green
cannabis leaf on the front.
 
In no
immediate danger, Scott and Ant shared a grin and a brainwave.

Grabbing the tin, Ant opened
it, breaking out in a smile on seeing its half full contents.

 
“I've thought about doing this before, Scott,”
he said to his friend.

“Me too!
 
Me too!” answered Scott, pinning the writhing
zombie's head in position between two large hardback books.

 
Ant wasted no time upturning a small display
table and dumped it hard onto the creature's body, trapping its flailing arms
under the weight as Ant knelt on top, out of mouth's reach.

As the desperately hungry
growling monster opened his mouth wide, hoping for a bit of Ant's flesh, Ant
tipped the whole contents of the tin into its gurgling mouth.

They waited.......they
watched. A few minutes went by and the stricken zombie was still putting up a
fight to get a bite when suddenly Ant felt the struggling force beneath him
relax. The twisted and contorted facial features of the crazed zombie seemed to
soften. Its eyes took on a more serene appearance and it seemed to both Scott
and Ant that it was even smiling a gentle 'way out there' kind of smile.

“We got a zombie stoned!”
said Scott like a kid at Christmas. “This is one cool story to tell once we get
out of here!”

But the zombie 'high' didn't
last long and suddenly the frantic wriggling returned stronger than before,
knocking Ant flying from his kneeling position.

 
“The fucker's got the munchies!” shouted
Scott, bringing his boot down hard on its head and hearing the reassuring
crack. “Now let's deal with the candyfloss bonnets!”

“
Oi
!
Have a bit of respect mate. My nan's a candyfloss bonnet!” chided Ant with a
frown.

They looked around the messy,
darkened shop. There were around fifty candyfloss bon.......... sorry,
pensioners shuffling about the aisles, some still holding walking sticks and
some still quite nippy considering all the circumstances. They watched them
carefully, trying to work out a plan that would incorporate mass murder of a
coachload of holiday makers in their golden years. This would not be easy!

Suddenly, every member of the
Shearing's jollies brigade stopped in their tracks and began to sniff the air.

“They're on to us,” whispered
Scott “Let's split up, I'm sure we can take half of them each!”

Ant went left and Scott went
right. They were like sheepdogs, prowling around keeping low, with their
shackles slightly raised. But for some reason the sniffing seniors with their
noses poised all headed right. Their sniffing became more pronounced and more
excitable as they shuffled a path toward Scott, who was beginning to feel a
little victimised.

Suddenly Ant sensed a mental
penny drop and he shouted loudly to Scott “It's the Sex Panther!”

“
Whaaaa
?”
managed Scott, scrambling backwards to escape the OAP onslaught that was homing
in on him.

“Mate get your coat off!
Chuck it...... chuck it now, Scott!”

Without a second to spare,
Scott struggled out of his coat -which did indeed reek of the spilt cologne-
and threw it over the newspaper stand and into the middle of the shop.

Around fifty aged zombies
snapped their heads towards the direction of the discarded item of clothing and
altered their course accordingly.

Scott watched in repulsed
horror as his favourite coat became the rope in a tug of war between the males
and females alike as they purred sensually whilst pawing and pulling and
rubbing themselves against the material in a kind of lust fest.

“
Eeeew
!”
squealed Scott “I'm not having that back. Randy buggers!”