“It’s a little different now though Gloria,” John replied and then she quickly turned to him.
“Shame on you John Taylor, you should know better!” He dropped his head once more. “Yes the enemy has a different face, or no face, but they still want our destruction. Can we negotiate with them? No, but neither would Hitler countenance negotiating with the defeated as his war machine rolled on. Did the tide turn? Yes, and we forced them back and crushed them with great loss of life on both sides. Did people despair? Of course they did, it was hell and unceasing. But where there is life, there is hope. We are alive, others will be alive. We will adapt and survive this, just as we have survived every other catastrophe that has come our way. We all know things won’t be as they were before, but something will emerge from this once we have defeated the hordes of the dead. Maybe something better, where all people will work together for the good of the species.” She left it there, she was satisfied that she had made her point. “Now, who wants eggs?”
John stood and took his breakfast from her, “Sorry love, you are right. There is plenty to do, and much to fight for,” he said, looking around the room.
Gloria smiled, nodded and handed out the rest of the meals to the group. Braiden set his down. Instead of eating his own, he cut the silent lady’s portion into pieces, feeding her carefully, the yolk defeating him and requiring a cloth to clean her chin. Gloria was overwhelmed with how much the little terror had changed and grown in such a short time. She had always known there was something special there. It just required pulling forth into the light.
The food and pep talk had brought John out of his torpor. He was thinking about the many different things that needed to be done to secure their survival, and finally decided on something less urgent. “I’m going to get the shower cubicle in the end house set up, I will need some support while I take the stairs apart, some eyes and ears,” he told them.
A massed sigh of pleasurable anticipation filled the room. Just the thought of a wash and change of clothes was enough to wring smiles from the weary faces.
“I’ll join you,” Sarah offered, Kurt looked worried, but he knew she would be careful.
“Me too, Grandad,” Sam added.
“Me three,” came from Braiden, as he finished feeding their guest and took his own plate, before wolfing it down.
The four took the tools and climbed into the attic, carefully crossing house to house, before crouching by the open hatch and listening. Silence still reigned, only the noise carrying from outside, which was dulled by the walls and windows. Nothing was in the house, so they lowered the ladders and descended quietly. Sarah peeked into the bathroom, the shower looked so inviting she could barely contain herself. She felt the graininess of her skin, the thin film of dirt that coated her face, the grease in her hair where she hadn’t washed it for two days before the outbreak. Lost in thoughts of warm suds and luxury, she flinched when John came up behind her. He handed her a small serrated knife and pointed to a spot in the ceiling.
“Can you cut me a hole up there, about twelve inches in diameter? We will put the bucket across the roof beams and then it will run through the hole into the cubicle. It will be much easier to carry water through and fill it up there,” John explained.
Sarah took the knife and stepped into the shower. Pressing the point to the ceiling, she was surprised how easily it pierced the plasterboard. Within a minute, she had cut the hole and took the section down, brushing white powder that had fallen onto her arms.
Sam and Braiden joined them downstairs. John positioned the boys so that all entrances were visible and any signs of movement would be picked up immediately and they could retreat. John took his time. Instead of hammering the jemmy bar into the gaps, he gradually worked them in, pressing a little each time, until they came away from their support. Each time a nail squealed in protest as it was pulling loose, he stopped and waited for the boys to give him the all clear. It was a painstaking process. Sarah waited to take each piece as John handed them up. She had already taken the ladders from the attic hatch and had them ready to drop down to them if the worst should happen. What had taken Kurt a few minutes in their own home, took John forty five. Finally they were clear, and the ladders were lowered in place of the old staircase.
“Grandad, shall we take a look around while it’s still safe?” Sam asked. John was initially reluctant, but all was calm, the milling dead had paid no attention to the house. Instead, they just wandered around in the front and rear garden aimlessly.
“Ok, but keep low and stay quiet, anything useful we will take to the stairs and your mum can collect it, is that ok?” John looked up to Sarah, who was already positioning to come down the ladder.
They dispersed and searched, always watchful of the windows and the dead who stood only feet from them. More food was taken. Perishables were ignored. Canned, dried and frozen foods were placed upstairs. They searched the cupboards and found more candles, batteries, and a handheld windup radio, which would come in handy if they had to vacate the home. The furniture and other items were left behind. John found a smaller imitation of the workshop that was upstairs, in the utility room. It had a vice and grinding wheel bolted to the worktop and more tools hung in neat rows on the walls. The owner had even painted the outline of each piece of equipment on the wall, to make it easier for them to find their place. Under the counter were boxes of chains and coils of rope, this was taken and passed upstairs. Time was passing fast, but the two heavy pieces of equipment would be invaluable so he decided to try and remove them.
“Can you all keep quiet again? I need you to watch and listen while I try and unbolt these.” John pointed at the vice and wheel. They all nodded and moved off, taking positions once again.
John took the socket set from the wall and selected the correct size. Kneeling down, he carefully undid each nut and bolt and put them in his pocket. It was going so well, he was sure their luck would run out soon, so he redoubled his efforts. The zombies were completely oblivious to the work they were doing and the equipment was soon sat on the upper landing. The tools could wait for now. All the while the house held they could collect them later. Besides, Kurt possessed most of them already, but it would pay to have spares, John thought.
They all relaxed once the ladders had been pulled up, the tension not becoming apparent until it was over and they were out of harm’s way. “Let’s get this stuff up there. Sam, Braiden, jump up and Mum and I will pass it up, it will be much quicker,” John directed.
In the same way that he had got the vice upstairs, he hefted it onto his shoulder with a grunt, the lump of iron digging painfully into his shoulder bone. It had to weigh fifty pounds at least. It was a proper engineer’s vice, not the flimsy DIY versions. John climbed the first two ladder steps and the boys reached down, took the weight and pulled it up out of the way. The rest of the goods took no time at all to move. They were soon back in the warmth of the master bedroom. Gloria was busy warming pans of water and pouring them into an empty bucket.
Kurt had been thinking while they were away, “Is it really wise to be using our drinking water to shower with? It seems a real waste when we could just use a flannel in the sink.”
John had been swayed by Gloria’s earlier speech, thought he had been thinking along different lines. “It is a waste in some ways, yes. We still have flowing water for now, though. A warm shower is not really necessary, but how much will it keep our spirits up? How did you all react earlier at the idea?” They all smiled. It was true; the mere thought of it enough to lift their mood.
“And when it runs out?” Kurt was being contrary, he was feeling useless and it was making him miserable. John had already planned a solution.
“When the water stops we still have rain, don’t we? This is England. Rain is about all we can rely on. We will cut into the down spout that runs alongside the balcony and drill it into the bathroom next door. It won’t be ideal for drinking but it will be a self-replenishing water supply for us to wash and clean with,” John explained and Kurt agreed grudgingly, he always had the right answer.
“So, who’s first?” Gloria asked, causing heated arguments and laughter as they vied for the first spot.
“I think it’s only fair that the chef goes first. After all, she has been keeping us all warm and fed.” John put forward and none argued, except Gloria herself.
“No, don’t you worry about me, I’ll be fine,” she protested. It was a unanimous verdict and she was overruled by the others.
While John carried the warm water to the end house, Gloria borrowed a jumper, pair of jeans and clean underwear from Sarah. She found John drilling a few small holes into the bottom of the bucket that he had positioned over the hole in the ceiling. He turned and saw her approach, the torch beam flickering back and forth.
“It’s all ready for you. The water won’t be cascading down. I have only put a few holes in the bucket, any more and the water will disappear in no time. If you climb down and give me a holler when you are ready, I will tip the warm water in. The stairs are safe, but I will still come down and keep watch. Don’t think my intentions are anything other than honourable,” he smiled.
“Thank you, kind sir. As a lady of fine breeding, my dignity is my most valuable asset.” She laughed and descended the ladder.
Minutes later, she called and John duly poured the warm, steaming water into the new shower bucket. The faint pitter patter of the water was silenced when Gloria stood under it and began washing. John climbed down and kept watch, concerned the noise of the water could draw attention. It didn’t, however, and Gloria stepped from the bathroom, clean and invigorated.
“Thank you for keeping watch,” Gloria said, before pecking him on the cheek.
One by one, they all used the new facility, even Kurt was helped by Sarah to shower. They had bandaged his ankle tightly and he slowly hopped on his good leg, while John and Sam supported him. The act of taking a warm shower made them buoyant and elevated the mood of the group, the earlier depression forgotten. The simple task of washing was time and labour intensive, no longer a quick press of a button under a shower head. It was late afternoon by the time they settled down to Gloria’s famous cooking. She had boiled some rice and they had the remaining stew poured on top. It was delicious. The new life they were leading gave them a much greater respect for the basic necessities.
The group sat and ate. They talked about better times and better places. Gloria recounted some of the holidays she and her husband had taken, the strange and wonderful cultures she had experienced as they travelled the world. It was bittersweet; the reason they could afford to travel was their lack of children and, up to this point, she didn’t really have anyone to tell of their adventures.
John had left them for a while, sitting and watching the windows of the ‘mystery house’ as it was now known. He was conflicted about his feelings for Gloria. They were both in their early sixties, widowed and they had been thrown together by the most horrific events. This was neither the time, nor place for complications. However, he still couldn’t stop the first faint flutters in his chest and the tingle of anticipation that he felt when she smiled. When they had first met, she had been the teacher, prim and proper, hair tied in an extreme bun. But this was just a façade she projected, and it became apparent to them all that she cared deeply about everyone. Even her hard attitude in the classroom was designed to push her students to their full potential. After showering, her hair hung wet around her shoulders, the smell of her fresh, clean skin still lingered with him from the kiss on the cheek.
“Stupid old man,” he told himself quietly. BUT THERE! He saw it! Fingers had pulled the curtain back a couple of inches and had then withdrawn. He nearly missed it when his mind had wandered. He ran back into the bedroom to tell them the news.
“There are people across the road, I’ve just seen them.”
Kurt sat up in bed, “Are you sure? How many?”
“I could only see one hand, but there could be more. Can you remember who lived there?” John asked. They racked their brains, but came up with nothing, the door was always closed and they couldn’t recall seeing anyone come and go. There was a rear entrance that led to a small carpark, which was most likely why they had remained unseen.
The air was full of excitement and tension, it was almost palpable. The proximity of other survivors had given them all hope. Maybe there were a lot more in the surrounding area. Things may not be as dire as they had first thought. Now they had to think of a way of communicating and reaching them.
John started pacing, they were all thinking hard to find solutions. “So what do we know? They are attracted to noise and activity, that’s why they have been left alone,” he pointed at the wall in the direction of the house. “We have well over a hundred in the area, with yet more of them directly between us in the street. It is still out of the question.”
They thought on this. It was going to be difficult, if not impossible, to do anything, but they had to try.
“They will probably be ok for a while if they lay low. I expect they have some food and water, but if they lack the ideas to take advantage of the surrounding homes, they won’t last long. I’ve not seen any signs of smoke from the chimneys, so they are in the cold, which won’t help,” Kurt added, realising how lucky they were.