Blood at the Premiere: A Day One Undead Adventure (18 page)

The other half wants to please him. To placate and befriend and earn his approval. To get a patronising pat on the head and be told she did good while inside she dies from the lack of pride while her self-esteem breaks into pieces.

Fuck him.
Get his approval
. Leave him behind.
Keep him alive and earn the reward
. Ach, dry your eyes. Wipe the tears away and hold your chin up. You’re Henrietta Swallow. Nothing touches you.

A sound idea but the actuality of following a railway line through any part of London will find you walking into a brick wall within minutes.

‘Now what?’ Dolan whispers fiercely at Henrietta and Brian staring at the brick wall at the end of the alley. After having made it the several metres from the safety of the old work unit, his bravery levels are still high.

‘We’ll go round it I guess,’ Henrietta whispers back.

‘You guess or you know?’

‘I don’t know. It’s just a suggestion.’

‘A suggestion? Fucking brilliant, Henrietta.’

‘Dolan, leave her alone.’

‘Go crash a van, Brian.’

‘Cunt.’

‘Call me a cunt again, Bennie, and…’

‘Cunt.’

‘I said call me a cunt again and…’

‘Yep, heard you. Cunty cunt pants.’

‘Right. Last warning. Do not call…’

‘Mr cunty cunt pants of cunt street who looks like a cunt.’

‘Bennie, pack it in.’

‘Yes, Henrietta.’

‘
Yes, Henrietta
,’ Dolan mimics, high-pitched and scathing.

‘Don’t take the piss out of Bennie. That’s bullying,’ Rose says.

‘Oh give me strength, the imbecile can speak.’

‘I’m English,’ Rose retorts. ‘I’m not from imbecilian or, like, anything…in fact, I think all religion is bad.’

‘We’ll go round,’ Henrietta says.

‘You’re a bully,’ Rose says again.

‘You’re thick as shit,’ Dolan counters.

‘You hit Henrietta Swallow.’

‘No. I defended myself from being attacked by Henrietta Swallow.’

‘I was a witless.’

‘Witness,’ Henrietta says. ‘Not witless.’

‘Oh I don’t know,’ Dolan muses. ‘Seems rather apt if you ask me.’

‘Everyone needs to be quiet. The road is right ahead…we need to get across and find a way of following the train line.’

‘What train line?’ Bennie asks, looking round.

‘Jesus, Bennie. It’s above us,’ Henrietta groans.

‘Is it?’ Bennie asks, looking straight up in the air. ‘Where?’

‘On top of…never mind, just stay quiet and keep up.’

‘Ha! I’ll keep it up for you, Henrietta.’

‘Bennie.’

‘Sorry, Henrietta.’

They reach a backstreet of terraced houses built when the bridge carrying the train line was constructed. Cheap housing in exchange for living next to the constant noise and rattle of engines whistling past. The front doors to the two up, two down houses rest open with the grimy windows smashed, broken or spattered with blood that lies in thick pools on the pavement. A low groan draws Henrietta further from the mouth of the alley to glance down at an old man dragging himself along the ground while his mangled and crushed back legs drag uselessly behind him. For a second she goes to move, to rush to his aid, but the movement of the head and the noise of the groan soon have her backing away to sink into the shadows. A scene of war, of devastation and suffering. Recent, too, judging from the still-glistening blood smears everywhere. Smoke still hangs in the air and she knows the fire somewhere to their backs will be raging uncontrolled.

The railway crosses the road supported on a high bridge arched in the middle to allow the traffic to pass underneath. Two huge supporting columns on either side of the road plastered with posters, flyers, graffiti and signs warning that trespassers on railway property will be prosecuted. They have to follow the line but the bridge butts against the end terraced house, cutting the route off.

She goes out into the street, peering down the road hoping to see the other side and a clear way through. More houses down that side, more terraced brick built low-priced dwellings inhabited by true Londoners born into a world of fumes, noise and crime. A chain-link fence spans a gap between the bridge and the first house on the other side. She stares up at the coiled razor wire looping the top and feels a growing worry at having to walk through the street. Something catches her eye. The lower corner of the fence has been cut and bent out to create a small gap. It is small, only big enough for a child, but if they can get through and into the wasteland following the tracks it will keep them off the main roads.

‘Come on.’ She walks briskly, building to a jog with the knife clutched in her hand and longing to go into one of the houses to wash the shit from her hands and the puke from her back. The thought of a cooling drink of water makes her mouth go dry and she swallows with the image of an ice-cold glass of pure water strong in her mind.

They reach the corner of the fence and bunch up close while Henrietta passes her knife to Bennie, then thinks better of it and takes it back to hand to Brian. She grips the fence and heaves it higher from the ground, bending the links up that strain and stretch against the small wire loops, tying them to the concrete posts.

‘Dolan, you first,’ she says with a look round at the street.

‘Why me?’ he asks, reverting back to panicked mode at the prospect of doing anything first.

‘You’re the biggest,’ she says, straining to hold the fence up. ‘Quickly…’

‘I am not going through that hole first.’

‘I’ll go,’ Brian says, pushing past the bigger man. He drops to a crouch and crawls through the fence, laying the knives in reach before standing on the other side and helping to lift the fence.

‘Dolan…’ Henrietta motions with her head but still the man hesitates. ‘Rose then…get through.’

‘Are you coming?’ Rose asks Bennie.

‘I think so. Am I coming?’ Bennie asks Henrietta.

‘Yes. Get through. Quick.’

Rose drops down with Bennie leaning back to admire her backside while Henrietta glares daggers at him. He shrugs with a wolfish grin then drops down to crawl close behind Rose as Dolan shoulders him aside and starts crawling, panicked and rushed, banging into Rose from behind and grunting for her to move faster.

‘Slow down,’ Henrietta whispers as Dolan tries to use his bulk to force Rose through.

‘Get out the fucking way,’ Dolan snarls at Rose as the fear builds at his back being presented to what he imagines is a street full of monsters ready to savage his arse. ‘Fucking move…’

‘I’m caught,’ Rose wails. ‘My hair.’

‘Shush,’ Henrietta implores them to be quiet.

‘My hair is caught.’

‘Just fucking move.’ Dolan pushes on heedless to the strands of her hair trapped in the links of the fence. Rose desperately twists her head side to side in an effort to free them.

‘Bri, hold the fence up,’ Henrietta says, letting go too fast. The fence sags down, driving the sharp broken points into the back of Rose’s neck, who screams out in sudden pain.

‘Shut up!’ Dolan hisses.

‘Rose, be quiet…we’ll get you through,’ Henrietta whispers, frantically trying to lift the fence up one-handed while working at the strands of hair trapped and entwining. Beads of dark blood drip thick and fast to form red rivers down the back of Rose’s neck and her whimpers grow louder as she starts bucking and thrashing.

‘Cut her hair,’ Henrietta urges, taking the weight of the fence in her hands.

‘DON’T CUT MY HAIR.’

‘Shut up, Rose, you have to be quiet,’ Henrietta says.

‘DON’T CUT MY HAIR.’

‘Shut that fucking bitch up…just pull her through,’ Dolan says, trying to crawl over Rose. Brian grabs a knife and works to saw through the strands that ping and break, releasing the pressure from Rose who scampers through sobbing hard and loud with Dolan forcing her on.

‘Bennie,’ Henrietta grunts, ‘quick…’

‘Yup.’ Bennie drops down, taking care to keep his bottle of whiskey upright. Surprisingly agile, he gets through with ease and crawls past Dolan to Rose.

‘Henrietta,’ Brian urges, dropping the knives to grip the fence while the other three worry about their own safety, hair and whiskey.

Henrietta steps back into the street to scan both sides. Seeing them still empty, she dives for the hole and snakes through, cursing herself for having such big implants put into her chest, which get squished into the dirt and grit.

A bedraggled Henrietta gets to her feet with that ever-pressing need to keep moving and keep pushing on. There is a goal now, an objective to reach. Follow the railway, find a station, work out where they are and head for the shortest route out of the city.

‘Get up.’ She heaves Bennie to his feet guiding him on with a gentle push. ‘Dolan, up…come on…’ She bends down to help him up but falters before the contact is made with the sudden memory of his hand whipping out in the work unit. He notices the hesitancy and looks up with a keen expression and yet another display of power shown as his hand stretches out.

‘Help me up.’ A command, not a request, and he makes no effort to lift his own body but waits for her hand to clasp his and only then does he apply power to his legs.

‘Rose,’ Henrietta says, turning away from Dolan and feeling a growing sense of discomfort at being near him.

‘I’m bleeding,’ Rose whimpers, soft and pathetic with her hand coming away from her neck covered in a thin layer of blood.

‘It’s just a nick,’ Henrietta says reaching down to pull the girl up. ‘We’ve got to keep moving.’

‘I need a hospital.’

‘You don’t. It’s just a cut, I promise.’

‘I’m scarred for life. This will haunt me and make my demons worse. Like, totally worse.’

‘You won’t get a scar. Come on, we have to move…please, Rose.’

‘I’m tired,’ she bleats, staggering a few steps on heavy legs.

‘We’re all tired but we cannot stay here.’

‘Why not?’ Rose asks, whining like a child.

‘It’s dangerous, that’s why.’

‘I wanna go home.’

‘We can’t go home, either. We just have to keep going.’

‘For how long?’

‘I don’t know. Not far,’ Henrietta says, trying to pull the girl on who walks heavy with heels digging into the ground and her feet dragging small steps.

‘I feel sick…I think I’m bleeding to death.’

‘Rose, please. Stop dragging your feet.’

‘I said I was tired. I said I’m bleeding to death. No one cares about me.’

‘Oh god, Rose, please. We don’t have time for this. We have to get moving…’

‘Rose, come on, mate,’ Brian calls out softly from further ahead.

‘I don’t want to go down there. It’s dark and scary. I want my dad…’

‘You’re seventeen, Rose. You’re an adult,’ Henrietta says, forcing a calm tone out despite the rising urge to just grab the girl and drag her bodily.

‘Carry me.’

‘What?’

‘Carry me,’ Rose says pitifully.

‘I can’t…you’re too heavy, Rose…’

‘Heavy? You mean fat?’

‘Eh? No! But anyone is heavy to carry and I carried you before…Rose, you’re an adult, not a child. Please, we’re too close to the road to have this argument now.’

‘You carried me before,’ Rose says, reverting to a sulky tone that works so well on her guilt-riddled father.

‘Henrietta, get that bitch moving.’

‘Dolan, I am trying. Rose, please. For me…please keep moving.’

‘He called me a bitch. That’s bullying.’

‘Henrietta, I mean it. Get that little bitch moving or we’re leaving her behind.’

‘DON’T LEAVE ME…’

‘Shush, we’re not leaving you but you have to walk, Rose. Please, for the love of god just walk.’

‘You listen to me, you fat little whore.’ Dolan looms sudden and fierce from the shadows to glare down at Rose. ‘You’ll fucking walk or we’ll leave you here. NOW MOVE.’

‘Stop shouting,’ Henrietta says urgently, staring back at the hole in the fence they came through, which is still too close for comfort.

‘Right, fine,’ Dolan states with a huff. ‘Leave the little bitch here.’

‘Rose, we’re going,’ Henrietta says, injecting some firmness into her voice. She tightens her grip on the girl’s hand and starts pulling. ‘Come on…now, Rose.’

‘Stop pulling me…you’re hurting my hand! GET OFF…’

Brian rushes back, staring frantically at the chain-link fence. ‘You’ve got to be quiet.’

‘She’s hurting me,’ Rose shouts petulantly.

‘Then just walk,’ Brian pleads. ‘Please, love. Come on…’

‘I said I was tired. I. AM. TIRED.’

‘You’re bloody spoilt is what you are,’ Dolan snaps. ‘Fuck her, leave her behind.’

‘Henrietta,’ Brian says, ‘let’s just go…she’ll catch up.’

‘I won’t,’ Rose says with a pout. She yanks her hand from Henrietta to obstinately fold her arms.

‘Then stay here,’ Brian says. ‘Henrietta, we have to go.’

‘Walk with me, Rose,’ Henrietta says, trying another tactic. ‘Come on, hold my hand.’

‘I am not a child.’

‘You’re fucking acting like one.’

‘Dolan, stop shouting at her.’

‘She is holding us up, the fucking little tramp.’

‘I am not a tramp.’

‘Rose, we’re going,’ Henrietta says with a sigh. ‘Trust me, you do not want to stay here on your own.’

‘I’ll scream if you leave me.’

‘Why?’ Henrietta cries out in frustration. ‘Do you understand? We cannot stay here. We’re too close to the road.’

‘I am tired.’

‘Henri,’ Brian says, motioning with his head. ‘Come on…’

‘I give up,’ Henrietta says, walking off after Bennie. ‘Catch us up.’

‘I said I will scream.’

‘And those things will come and kill you,’ Brian says, walking after Henrietta.

‘Tramp,’ Dolan spits the last insult out and strides after Henrietta.

Every action has a reaction. The whole of mankind is a sequence of actions, counteractions and consequences, and in Rose a myriad of emotions build up at the belief they would not leave her. In truth, Rose did not know what she wanted other than attention, and any attention is better than no attention. Spoilt? Yes. Selfish? Yes. Immature? Very. Alone? Frightened? Ill equipped with the mental faculties to understand the concept of real life and death? Absolutely. Each of those plays a part in forming a fleeting decision to fold her arms harder, stamp her foot and draw a huge intake of air that hurts her already-tender throat and the piercing scream that follows is high-pitched and rolls far in the quietness of the streets. Heads snap round. Heads with bloodshot eyes. Legs start moving with arms hanging lifeless and heads lolling as saliva glands start working overtime to prepare the infection to be passed from the bite that will be delivered.