Lennie sat in his chair, festering with anger. He stared at the TV but wasn’t really watching, he was contemplating going upstairs and punishing Braiden properly. The ungrateful little bastard, he thought to himself, he was the cause of all Lennie’s problems. Ever since he was born, Julia had gotten mouthier and wouldn’t do as she was told. When he hit the brat as a baby, she had actually shouted at him! Talk about a liberty. He had punished her properly for that. The visit to the hospital served as a lesson to her. It had worked for a while, however her sassy mouth had returned.
Lennie squeezed the empty lager can and threw it at the TV. The remaining dregs splashed onto the screen, running down in bubbling streams.
“FOR FUCK SAKE!” he yelled. He nearly got up and smashed the television in rage, but the knowledge that he would have nothing to watch, and no way to get another was the only thing staying his hand. Braiden was going to get it, Lennie decided, his mind filling with images of pleasurable brutality. Braiden had caused this bad mood by bunking off school. Aware of how drunk he was, he decided to have a joint before he tried to climb the stairs. It always served to steady him, and he wanted to be steady, he thought to himself while unconsciously fingering the heavy leather belt on his trousers. He took out his makings and laid tobacco into a large cigarette paper. Placing some leaf into his grinder, he crushed it and laid the cannabis over the whole length, before licking and rolling it. Twisting the end into a tip and reaching for the lighter, he ignited it, held the flame to the joint and drew deeply. The fragrant smoke entered his lungs and he blew it out in rings, watching as they ascended towards the ceiling. Lennie recalled the morning that Julia, the fucking bitch, had left.
He found her packing bags for herself and Braiden. The look of shock and fear when she spun to find him home from work early made him feel powerful once again. The idea that he could lose two pieces of his property was impossible. His twisted mind conjured a plan and Julia could sense something was very wrong. Where normally his face would redden and herald the coming pain, only a snide grin appeared and turned up the edges of his mouth in a sneer. He reached into his shirt for the chain that carried the key to his shotgun cabinet and then turned and walked away. The only reason he still had his gun licence was the fear that the name Sullivan instilled in people. No one ever went to the police and, even if they did, he and his brothers would convince them of the common sense and safety in dropping the charges.
Julia was now frantic, grabbing what she already had, ignoring the rest. She ran down the stairs and sped for the front door, twisting the latch. Nothing happened! She tried it again and pulled with all her might.
“I’ve dead bolted it,” Lennie said calmly, inserting the second cartridge and snapping the shotgun closed.
Julia turned to face him, all hope now gone, she was dead. Lennie would never let her or Braiden go.
“Lennie put the gun down,” she said as she held her hands out pleadingly. He had the gun levelled at her chest and she knew that a single squeeze would be her end.
Unknown to her, Lennie’s mind was working overtime. He didn’t have an issue with killing the bitch. She deserved it for how she had treated him. But on the other hand, he thrived on fear and doling out violence to those closest to him. It gave him a rush. If he was in prison for murder, he would have no power over anyone. Smashing strangers up didn’t feel the same, there was no personal attachment to it. The looks of physical pain were nothing compared to the look of betrayal and confusion in the eyes of loved ones as he attacked them. A thought came to him and he smiled, a wolf’s grin, utterly without pity or emotion.
“Here,” he said, as he took a key out of his pocket and threw it at her. She flinched, but caught it. Julia looked at it, then at Lennie. Confusion ensued, she knew this was a ruse and braced herself for the blast of the dark barrels.
“Go on, fuck off, but you are not taking Braiden. If you go and get him from school, I will track you down and kill you both slowly, not humanely with this.” He nodded down at the double barrelled shotgun. “Braiden stays with me.”
Conflicted and unsure, Julia turned and unlocked the dead bolt, expecting the noise and the sudden agonising pain of lead buckshot in her spine. She held her breath and opened the door, and then she turned and faced him. She was desperate to beg Lennie to allow their son to come with her. However, knowing he carried out his threats, she did not ask. She had been with him for long enough to know his links to the underworld and how far it reached.
“He’s mine. I may just come and pay you a visit soon anyway, for old time’s sake,” he said, as he smiled at her with dead eyes. It was even more terrifying than the rages.
Julia stepped back across the threshold, then down the path, and out of his life. He shivered with anticipation of her constant fear for their child and his threat. She wouldn’t have a moment’s peace. He had a lingering doubt, just a little one, and instead of waiting, he left the house and drove to the school. She didn’t show. Collecting Braiden at the end of the day, he fabricated a story about an argument, lying that his mother had blamed them both for leaving. Braiden had cried until the threat of a fist shut him up. They went home in silence. She had not attempted to make any contact. His threat had worked, almost too well, Lennie thought. He hadn’t planned on her not actually trying to secretly get in touch, either through a friend or the school itself. It infuriated him, so Braiden suffered. He made inquiries with some of his contacts, but heard nothing. It was as if she had disappeared from the face of the Earth. In Lennie’s increasingly drug addled mind, she had betrayed them and ran off for a better life. The memory of his threat at gunpoint and her forced exit fading into nothingness. His mood had spiralled down as the false memory took hold. Lennie had become increasingly volatile and cruel over the ensuing years.
“FUCKING WHORE!” he yelled at the empty room. The drugs and alcohol were taking their toll. His vision was blurry with chemically induced waves. He didn’t hear the faint creak of the front door opening fully on its hinges, or the way the air chilled with the entry of the cold wind from the grey day outside. Only his hatred and the ever shortening joint had his attention. The shrinking cigarette was like a fuse burning, counting down the seconds for the explosion that was coming. Taking another puff, he felt the sensation of teeth clamp on his shoulder at the point where it meets the neck. Blinding pain tore through him as flesh and veins were ripped free. Dropping the joint and jumping to his feet, he twirled around and saw a woman chewing. His neck sprayed blood, but the cannabis and alcohol served as an anaesthetic, the pain now dull and on the periphery of his thought.
“Oh really?” he asked the zombie, as he reached into his shirt for the chain that hung there. In his warped state of mind, never rational and now even less so, the question of why a stranger was in his house biting him, was not really registering. All he knew was that someone had taken a liberty and hurt him. She was good looking though, short brown hair complimenting a thin, pretty face. A real shame, he thought to himself as he walked past, not noticing her bloodied and torn back and buttocks where she had been pinned down and eaten.
Opening the hallway storage cupboard and leaning in, Lennie had trouble inserting the key into the lock, the blood loss and inebriation making him unsteady. Finally, it went in and turned. He opened the long, metal door and exposed the loaded shotgun. If any inspector had come and found it like this, he would have been in trouble. Not that they would dare, he thought to himself; they knew who he was. He hefted it out and raised it. The pretty woman had followed from the lounge, her mouth dripping his blood on the dirty carpet.
“Sorry love, no one mugs me off in my own house.” He fired both barrels. The short distance didn’t allow the shot to spread properly. A golf ball size hole appeared, accompanied by an exit wound the size of a fist. Flesh, bone, and blood sprayed the kitchen floor and walls. The blast had lifted her and flung her back onto her own gore. Reaching for more cartridges, he reloaded. The murderous rage that had been growing for nearly forty years was finally overtaking him. He didn’t even look toward the kitchen. Otherwise, he might have had the presence of mind to wonder why the pretty woman was sitting up with a hole in her chest.
Lennie stepped outside the front door, and saw several other people in the nearby gardens. Ready to kill again, he lifted the shotgun, but he couldn’t raise it to his chest. At an angle barely above the grass he fired, wondering where his strength had gone. The blood had nearly stopped flowing, merely weakly running down his clothing now. He fell to his knees, shotgun dropping to the ground.
“Fucking mugs!” he mumbled at the approaching figures, before falling face down. He smelled the grass, felt the soft blades against his cheek, then felt other sensations, not quite as pleasant.
“I’ll put the kettle on and make a cup of tea,” Mrs Blume offered.
Kurt had really taken to the old girl. He sat in a chair facing Sarah, Sam was leaning over his shoulder, as they wiped her face clean. She was coming around, the colour had returned to her cheeks and her eyes were focusing on people.
“That’s it, you’re ok now. We are safe.” He realised what a ridiculous statement that was in their situation, and didn’t repeat it.
The kettle clicked and the first faint rumble of heating water began; a sound so normal that it seemed out of place.
Kurt stood and said, “Sam, sit with Mum for a minute. I want to check something.” Sam obliged. Mrs. Blume sat down as well and picked up Sarah’s hand, gently rubbing the top of it comfortingly.
Kurt headed into their lounge. Very little natural light was illuminating the room because of the van covering the patio doors. He was satisfied with the lack of visibility and turned on the light switch. Overhead, the ceiling bulbs bloomed into life and he went to the TV and turned it on. The screen came on, an old episode of ‘Only Fools and Horses’ showing on the channel. Braiden had followed him into the room and stood there looking at the screen, still not ready to talk.
“I’m just checking the news. Let’s see what is being done to sort this problem out,” Kurt explained, switching to Sky News. Braiden nodded.
The picture changed to an impeccably dressed, male newsreader who, via satellite connection, was addressing an individual identified as Doctor Harold Keener, a scientist.
‘We are lucky to have Dr Keener on with us. He is a specialist from the Daresford Institute in Petersfield, West Sussex, a Government science centre researching particle physics and other important technology. Dr Keener, could you give us some details of what you have found in relation to these catastrophic events?’
Dr Keener nodded and began,
‘Thank you Peter. At approximately 10:35 this morning, we were working with the staff at the European Organisation for Nuclear Research, the site of the Hadron Collider, to continue our research into the Higgs Bosun, a theoretical particle that would further our understanding of space and time.’
The anchor nodded sagely, despite being clueless. Dr Keener continued,
‘The test was carried out successfully, but initial readings identified that an unknown pulse of energy had occurred. For some reason, this pulse has caused people to begin reacting in a violent manner towards other people, even loved ones.’
People? Kurt thought. They aren’t bloody people, he wanted to shout.
‘Doctor, can you give us some insight into how this energy has caused the behaviour that is now being reported worldwide?’
‘Well, as you know, the human brain is largely unknown. New breakthroughs in our understanding are being made all the time. At present, we do not have an answer to what has triggered this. Our instruments have been trying to decipher the cause of the anomaly and we hope to find an answer soon. I can assure you all; our best minds are working on it.’
‘Doctor, can you tell us if you have found any biological change in the people that are carrying out these attacks? What is being done about the unfolding disaster?’
The anchor pressed and the scientist looked uncomfortable.
‘At this time, we are unsure as to their exact nature, only that they are extremely aggressive and must not be approached. We are still communicating with Porton Down, who is leading the research of the biological threat, while we try and unravel the energy that is responsible.’
‘What do you say to those that claim to have seen the dead walking, their victims rising and attacking people too?’
This was the question everyone wanted answers to, even the news reader seemed more intent on the response.
‘Preposterous! That’s pure fantasy. None of our research supports these claims,’ Dr Keener said although
his face told a different tale.
‘Doctor Keener, thank you for joining us.’
Dr Keener’s picture faded from the corner.
‘We will be right back after this break. Stay with us for a brief statement from the Government as they prepare their response.’
They looked at each other. “Are you any the wiser?” Kurt asked Braiden, who shrugged in response. “No, me either.”
Meanwhile, Mrs Blume poured the boiling water into the mugs, tea bag bubbling and rising as it gave off its brew.
“I’m making a cup for everyone. I think we could all do with something warm and sweet.”
“Thank you Mrs Blume, that sounds great,” Sarah replied, with more animation. Sam still sat with her, concern furrowing his brow.
“Oh, call me Gloria, dearie. Mrs Blume is so formal,” she smiled at her. “Where is the milk kept?”
“Can I have four sugars please?” Sam requested and the look on Gloria’s face was priceless.
“Good heavens, I expect the spoon stands up straight in your cup,” Gloria stated. This brought a laugh from the three in the kitchen. It felt good for them to wind down a bit, cleansing even.
“It’s just through there, in the utility room.” Sarah pointed at a side door that led into a small room. The utility room had tiled floors and walls, a small cleaning sink, a washing machine and dishwasher. To the right of the door was their fridge freezer, its motor issuing a low hum as the compartments cooled. She took out the bottle of semi skimmed milk and closed the door, the magnet pulling the seal tight. The noise of the TV reached them faintly. Unable to make out the words, they waited for Kurt to come back and give them an update. Gloria sugared the cups and, with some amused shaking of her head, added four to Sam’s. Stirring them and adding milk, she finished just as Kurt and Braiden re-joined them. The look on their faces was an unwelcome sight. She had wanted to see some hope. She picked up two of the mugs and handed them over, first Kurt, then Braiden.
“I hope one sugar is sufficient for you young man?” she said, nodding at her young pupil, touching his arm when he had taken the cup, trying to reassure him.
“Yes miss. Thanks,” Braiden almost looked at her then, but thought better of it.
Taking two of the three remaining cups, she handed them to Sarah and Sam, who took them appreciatively.
“Here is your cup of syrup,” she commented with a wry smile. Sam blushed and they laughed a little. She returned to the counter and took hers, holding her hands round the warm vessel for heat. Her hands always seemed to be cold these days.
“I think we had better all sit down,” said Kurt sombrely.
They each pulled out a chair; wooden framed with beige fabric seats and backrests. The table itself was mahogany. There were cup marks in a couple of places where coasters hadn’t been used and the heat marked the varnish. Gloria took the initiative and handed them each one from the centre of the table.
“We need to discuss what we are going to do now,” Kurt led the discussion. “We have just seen Sky News and the newsreader stated that this thing is not just localised. Sam can you check your phone and see if the rest of the world is affected too, as they suggested? Apparently there was a mishap with an experiment that caused a pulse of energy to discharge. They are working round the clock to find an answer. I prayed that it was only us going through this mess, but it looks so much worse.” He let that sink in. Sam had taken his phone out and was frantically tapping the touch screen, searching for the latest news.
“Well, let us take it one step at a time. What is our current situation?” Gloria had taken the lead, and sipped from her steaming mug. Eyes met across the table, went from one person to another. No one really wanted to articulate what was going on, as if by saying the words, they would lend it more power.
Kurt blurted out a laugh and at once apologised. “I’m sorry,” he said, composing himself. “I just can’t get the scene out of my head,
‘They’re coming to get you Barbara
’,”he said, mimicking the voice of the actor from the iconic start of Romero’s first masterpiece. “It’s zombies, the living dead. We have seen them up close, AND have seen what they are capable of. How the hell is this even possible?” Finished speaking, he concentrated on the tea mug, searching within for answers that wouldn’t come.
“I agree, it is extraordinary, but is questioning why this is happening going to help us at present?” she looked around the table. “They are dead, but they are attacking people, who are then dying and doing the same. If what you have seen on the television is accurate, then we are in real trouble.”
Sam joined in, looking up from the screen on his smartphone. “It’s everywhere. I’ve seen tweets from people in America, Australia, Korea, Italy, and lots more.” He looked like he was going to be sick. Sarah reached over and rubbed his back, for her comfort as much as his.
The teacher did a quick geography check in her mind. “So by the looks of it, no corner of the globe has been left untouched by this. This means we cannot count on any outside help coming in to deal with this issue. We have to hope, that once the Government is secure, they will begin directing the armed forces response. It can only be a case of sitting tight until they regain control.” The teacher’s ability to reason through this was astonishing to those at the table.
“I really hope so Mrs Blume, but the absence of the emergency services makes me wonder if they will manage to turn this around any time soon,” Kurt replied.
She continued, “So, it looks like we are on our own for the time being, at least we are safe here for now. What comes next is our priorities, the first being food and water. Kurt, I noticed you have been shopping,” Gloria commented, inviting a response.
“Yeah, I picked up as much canned food and dried food as I could fit in the trolley. We have a certain amount here too. We only went shopping last week. We should be ok for a few weeks at least, and then I don’t know…”
“No, don’t be disheartened,” she reassured him. “That has given us a good window to come up with a longer term plan. What about water?”
Sam joined in, “We have all the water we can use from the taps. At least we won’t go thirsty,” he exclaimed happily.
Kurt looked at him, love for this awkward little guy making him ache. “The water will run out very soon, if not today. With nobody to keep the pumps running, it can’t be delivered to our homes.”
Sam’s smile died and Kurt hated himself. Why hadn’t he just shut up and let him have that moment of triumph, he thought. Too much knowledge in the wrong hands could be dangerous. Sarah saw the look of hurt and smiled, trying to convey that it wasn’t his fault, they were all frazzled.
“But, Sam has made a brilliant contribution there, don’t you see? If he hadn’t made us think on that, we may have been without water on our very first day. All the food in the world wouldn’t have helped us.” Sam brightened a little at the praise of his teacher. She mulled on a thought for a moment, putting into words what Kurt had been thinking, at almost the same time.
“Sam and Braiden, would you please be so kind as to find all of the containers you can, and start filling them. Take bottles, cups, saucepans, anything, and just fill it to the brim.”
They both leapt up from the table, grateful to have a task, something to be doing that helped. Cupboard doors were flung open, pans clattered and rattled, cups and glasses put onto the kitchen side. They then turned their attention to the not so obvious.
“Let’s look out here,” Sam suggested, heading towards the utility room, closely followed by Braiden.
The adults observed the frenzy of activity with bemused smiles, the sight of the children doing what children do best, causing mayhem, warmed their hearts.
“Thank you,” Kurt whispered to Gloria. She sensed the pain that he had felt when he had rebuffed Sam’s idea without thinking. The elderly lady just smiled and nodded.
“Sam, hold on a second. Take all that stuff upstairs. Put the plug in the bath and sink, fill them both right to the top. When the bath is filling, fill those too. It will get it done in half the time. Leave all of it on the bathroom floor, tucked into a corner so we don’t kick it over,” Kurt instructed the boys.
Sam looked unsure. “Why don’t we fill them from the sinks down here while the bath runs?”
“Because we aren’t staying downstairs mate, we will be getting as much as possible up there over the next few hours, and then I will be blocking the stairs up. We can’t be sure that those things won’t get in here, so I am going to seal the back door first to buy us time, and then we will be migrating to upstairs,” Kurt said, pointing to the ceiling.
The boys loaded their arms and set to the task, feet pounding on the stairs, followed by the sound of running water. The adults were left alone to plan in greater detail.
“What do you think? I feel a lot safer using gravity instead of wood. If they somehow work out how to levitate, we are buggered anyway,” Kurt concluded.
“I agree, the van and car help, but it is too risky to leave to chance. We could be caught out at any time if there are too many of them and they break in somehow. Gloria?”
“Yes, I have to agree, being out of their reach gives us greater safety. We do not know how far their cognitive and reasoning capabilities go. What I have seen is that those that turn have no compunction in attacking those whom they know. Our poor nurse was loved by all the students and they killed her without hesitation. This doesn’t explain how an ‘energy pulse’ has caused the long dead to be rising from the grave. The creatures that joined in the assault on my classroom were many months, or even years, dead.”