Authors: Edwin Page
I looked at
Tyreese in the rear-view mirror, seeing the concern evident in his expression.
We’d been on the road longer than expected, having to take three detours. The
first had been thanks to a large accident on Route Seven. The others had been
due to finding the country roads we were driving along blocked with farm
machinery. We’d nearly rammed straight into the green harvester on the second
occasion, the beast of a machine parked across the highway around a sharp bend.
Someone had painted a crude skull and crossbones on the side with the words ‘go
back’ written beneath.
‘How we doing on fuel?’ I asked, turning to the view out of the
windshield, the landscape flat and the panoramic sky filled with low cloud.
‘We need to find more,’ he stated over his shoulder. ‘If I read the map
right, we should hit Milton soon and we can hopefully get back on the Seven
from there. Then it’s not far South to Burlington.’
‘What about over there?’ I leant forward and pointed to the left between
the front seats. A collection of barns lay about a hundred yards off the road
with brown panel sidings and white roofs, a pair of white-topped silos rising
beyond and a house resting on the south side of a large yard, a red pickup
parked out front.
‘You think?’ Tyreese looked at the farmstead dubiously.
‘It’s worth a shot. How soon do we need to find gas?’
‘Pretty soon.’
‘Then let’s give it a try.’
Tyreese looked in the rear-view and I turned to glance out of the back
window. There was no sign of any other vehicles, the traffic having steadily
thinned during the hours of travel.
He turned off, dust rising in our wake as he slowed the car and we
crawled towards the collection of buildings.
‘Chrissie,’ I said, looking at her as she slept on the passenger seat.
She stirred, but didn’t wake.
‘Chrissie,’ I repeated with greater volume.
She smacked her lips and slowly opened her eyes, turning to look at me.
‘You need to be alert now, Honey,’ I stated.
Her brow became furrowed.
‘We’re just going to get some more gas, but you need to keep your eyes
open just in case we run into trouble again, okay?’
She gave a vague nod, yawning and wiping her eyes.
Tyreese brought the Falcon to a stop twenty yards from the house and
stared out. ‘There’s no sign of anyone. Then again, there wasn’t ant sign of
anyone back in Swanton either.’
I looked to the house and then glanced at the barns on the other side of
the yard through the window at my shoulder. ‘You’re going to be totally exposed
out there.’
‘Tell me something I don’t know,’ he responded. ‘But there’s no other
choice. Here, take the keys.’ He turned and held them out to me, craning his
neck to look into the back.
I stared at them in hesitation.
‘Just in case,’ he stated.
I took the keys and Tyreese reached behind the passenger seat, taking up
the shotgun from where it rested amidst the bags in front of Bob’s covered body.
Cocking it, he made sure it was loaded and then patted the front right pocket
of his leather jacket, checking that the rest of the cartridges were still
tucked inside after having taken all the old man’s ammunition when disarming
him inside the house.
Opening the door after another glance around, he stepped out, his
shoulder slightly hunched with tension. He moved to the front of the car and
paused, shotgun at the ready.
I leant forward and stretched across Chrissie, taking the rifle by the
barrel and lifting it into the back seat. ‘Get into the footwell, Honey, and
don’t come out until we tell you it’s safe, okay?’
She looked at me worriedly and nodded, unbuckling her belt and slipping
from the seat with Ollie held close as I opened the door beside me. I climbed
out, resting the gun on the roof as I stared at the house and scanned the
windows for any sign of movement.
Tyreese checked that I was ready and then sprinted across the dusty yard
towards the front porch, rushing by the tailgate of the pickup. His footsteps
were audible on the boards as he reached it and quickly moved to stand with his
back to the wall beside the door, gun held to his body.
He looked over questioningly and I shook my head. Reaching out with his
right hand, he banged on the door. ‘Anyone home?’ he called.
No answer came.
He tried the handle and found that it was unlocked. Pushing it ajar, he
quickly ducked back, waiting to see if a shot would issue from within.
Waiting a moment, Tyreese then took a breath and moved before the
entrance. He kicked the door fully open, shotgun aimed at the shadows beyond.
Glancing at me, he then vanished into the house.
I watched the windows, still seeing no sign of life. Turning, I looked to
the barns. All was silent and still.
‘Wait here,’ I said softly, Chrissie nodding as she sat in the footwell
with her back to the passenger door and knees to her chest.
I ducked down and moved along to the front of the Falcon. Glancing over
towards the barns momentarily, I hurried over to the house, staying low.
I reached the door and looked in. Beyond was a darkened hallway with two
doors along the right-hand side and one at the end, stairs rising to the left
with what appeared to be a small closet beneath.
‘Tyreese?’ I called in a whisper, the sound of my pulse loud in my ears.
He appeared in the doorway at the far end. ‘No one’s home.’
‘Have you checked upstairs?’
He shook his head as he walked towards me. ‘I was just about to, but I
haven’t heard a creak.’
‘That doesn’t mean no one’s up there.’
He led the way and I followed, the wooden steps moaning as we passed and
announcing our ascent to anyone lying in wait. Reaching the landing at the top,
Tyreese moved to the right and stepped to the nearest door.
I went left. A sign on the door before me bore the name ‘Andrea,’ bright
flowers drawn around it, some growing from the lettering. I pushed gently and
the hinges creaked as a child’s room was revealed. There was a scattering of
stuffed animals about the peach coloured pillow and a posy of wilting yellow
flowers rested on the windowsill opposite.
A bang caused me to jump and I spun round, rifle at the ready.
‘Sorry,’ said Tyreese, the washroom door having knocked against the bath
when he pushed it open.
I put my left hand to my chest as my pulse raced.
‘Maybe we should hold up here for the night. There’s no guarantee we’ll
make it back before nightfall.’
I glanced over my shoulder and looked out of the window to the girl’s
room. It was hard to tell what time of day it was thanks to the thick cloud,
but I judged it to be sometime in the early evening. ‘Might be a good idea,’ I
agreed.
He moved to the top of the stairs and began to descend. He turned when my
footsteps didn’t follow. ‘Are you coming?’
‘I just need to visit the washroom.’
Tyreese nodded and continued downstairs.
I walked into the room and shut the door, sliding the small bolt across
automatically. I went to the sink and leant the rifle beside, looking at myself
in the mirror above while turning on the cold tap to see if the water was still
running. I looked tired, my hair greasy and in a state of disarray.
Water splashed into the ceramic sink and I gathered some up in my palms.
Splashing it over my face, I closed my eyes and savoured the sensation of its
coolness. I turned off the tap and reached for the pale green towel hanging
from a rail beside, patting down my face as I took deep breaths.
Stepping to the loo at the back of the room, I seated and relieved
myself. I stared at the vague shadow of my head and shoulders that was cast
onto the floorboards by the window behind me. My thoughts turned to our
situation, to what had happened to the world in only a matter of days and my
eyes welled with tears as Bob came to mind with sad inevitability.
‘Hey! Come and take a look at this.’
I finished up and flushed. ‘What is it?’ I called as I stepped from the
room with the rifle in hand.
‘Come and see for yourself.’
I went downstairs and looked along the hall. ‘Where are you?’
‘The kitchen at the back.’
I hesitated, becoming suspicious. Tyreese hadn’t said what was so
important and hadn’t made an appearance when I’d enquired as to his
whereabouts. What if someone had been hiding or had entered the house through
the back and was now holding him at gunpoint?
Cautiously making my way along the hallway, I approached the door at the
far end and raised the gun. I stopped a couple of yards shy of the entrance, my
heart thumping.
‘What do you want me to see?’ I asked, trying to peer through the crack
between the door and frame.
‘Just come in here.’
‘Not until you tell me,’ I replied.
The door opened and Tyreese stepped into sight with a tin of butter beans
in one hand and chocolate pudding in the other. The smile on his face faded the
moment he set eyes on me, looking to the gun pointed at his chest.
‘What the?’
I lowered the rifle. ‘My turn to apologise,’ I said. ‘I thought maybe
someone had a gun to you in there.’
He shook his head.
‘Are they what you wanted me to see?’ I glanced at the tins.
‘Partly,’ he said. ‘The cupboards are still full of food and the refrigerator
is stocked. It’s been so much colder than usual since the clouds came over that
even the milk has kept.’
‘Really?’ I walked into the kitchen and looked at the line of cupboards
on the wall immediately to the right, the doors open and revealing the shelves
of food within.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, seeing my look of discomfort.
‘If they haven’t taken the food then they must still be hereabouts,’ I
replied, a fearful thought suddenly coming to mind.
‘Chrissie!’ I exclaimed, turning and rushing out of the kitchen.
We stood outside
the main entrance to the hospital, the glass doors wide open. There were papers
scatted on the floor in front of the reception and a number of gurneys were strewn
about the concourse ahead of us, but there was no sight or sound of any members
of staff or patients in the gloomy interior.
‘I ain’t liking the look of this,’ commented David.
‘Pussy,’ responded his brother, walking in with his gun drawn and bandana
tied about his head.
I followed with Shane at my shoulder, David hesitating a moment longer
before glancing around and then entering the building.
‘Do you hear that?’ whispered Shane.
There was laughter arising from somewhere in the bowels of the building
and distant whooping echoed along the concourse.
‘What the fuck happened here?’ said David nervously.
‘You mean, what the fuck is going on here?’ Shane looked round at him.
‘Whoever the hell that is, they sound completely fucking insane,’ he added, the
laughter high-pitched and manic.
‘Stay alert,’ I said as Wade continued to lead the way, following the
signs for the dispensary.
We reached it to find the door wide opened and most of the shelves
emptied, a scattering of packets left upon them and lying on the floor. I moved
inside and crouched, searching for what I needed, the others believing we were
simply hunting for painkillers to ease people’s aches when the effects of the
pure blood wore off.
I discovered a couple of packets of strong painkillers and one of
morphine tablets, tucking them into the empty sports bag I’d brought with me,
the Chang brothers with rucksacks over their shoulders in readiness to be
filled.
‘We need to find the hospital’s main drugs store,’ I stated as I stood,
finger inside the stiff collar of the vestments I’d put on before leaving the
field. I wanted anyone we came across to believe I was a Reverend from the
outset.
‘And how do we find that?’ asked Wade.
‘We find a member of staff,’ I stated.
‘Take a look around you, there ain’t no one here.’
‘What about the laughing?’ said David.
‘For all we know it’s a mental patient.’
‘Sounds like it,’ commented Shane.
A loud clatter accompanied by banging suddenly resounded through the
hospital and we stopped in our tracks. It continued for a few moments and the
came to a stop, the echoes slowly fading and only the laughter remaining.
‘Man, this is some fucked up shit,’ said David with a shake of his head.
‘Don’t piss you pants, little brother.’
‘You were only born a few minutes before me, Wade,’ he retorted with a
scowl.
‘What do you think that was?’ asked Shane.
I shrugged and wondered if we should make our way back to the cars.
‘Where the fuck is everybody?’ David looked back towards reception, the
wan light spilling in through the entrance filling the emptiness with shadows.
‘Maybe they’ve all headed north,’ suggested Shane.
‘Then who the hell’s that we can hear?’ responded Wade.
‘We need to keep moving,’ I stated, deciding that the need for more
morphine outweighed the unsettled feeling which was setting me on edge. ‘We’ll
follow the laughter.’
Wade glanced at me and then set off towards double doors that were twenty
yards ahead. There was no lighting, the illumination within the corridor
afforded through the open doors of some of the rooms that lined each side. I
peered in each time we passed one, looking for signs of life, but seeing
nothing but beds with their sheets untidily pulled back, some with drips
standing idle beside, one still running and its contents pooling on the floor beneath
the cot.
The doors ahead burst open and banged against the wall. We raised our
guns as a naked boy in his mid-teens came careering through. Toilet paper was
unevenly wrapped about his body and streamers of it fluttered in the air as he
bounded towards us, jumping to bang the light placements above his head and
whooping as he did so.
He was completely unfazed, running at us as if oblivious to our presence.
We moved to the sides of the corridor in order to avoid a collision and watched
him pass in shocked silence.
‘I guess someone’s already got to the drugs,’ commented Wade in response
to the sight of the teenager’s wide eyes, whites aglow and pupils dilated.
‘He didn’t even see us,’ said David.
‘Maybe he didn’t think we were real. From the looks of his eyes, he’s
seeing all sorts of shit and a preacher toting a gun is not what you’d call an
everyday sight,’ responded Shane.
‘True enough.’
‘He’s not alone,’ I said. ‘The laughter is coming from somewhere else and
that commotion we heard was from the opposite side of the building.’
‘Probably his buddies.’ David glanced back, the teen having vanished from
sight, but his whooping still drifting to us along the corridor.
‘I suppose that’s one way to deal with the end of the world,’ said Shane.
‘Or not deal with it,’ I responded.
A gentle creak drew our attention to the next door on the right. A
middle-aged man appeared wearing a hospital gown, a bandage wrapped around his
head covering his eyes. ‘One of you’s a preacher?’ he asked, holding onto the
doorframe. ‘Please, in the name of God, help me.’