Being accident prone, my ankle was one of many bones that I had already had the misfortune of breaking due to various sporting and tomfoolery reasons, but this didn’t feel like a break; it felt like a complete shattering of any structure in that area. The cracking reigned with dominance over the sound of the flames above and the thud of my back hitting the pavement, like someone squeezing a thick roll of bubble wrap through a thousand megaphones lined up end to end. I was happy to be out of that room, happy to have escaped the looming claws and jaws of the zombies who had just filled the room I was in, and I was happy to be once again reunited with my friends, but that really fucking hurt.
Jon helped me to my feet, or at least one of my feet as I hobbled on the shattered mess that used to be my other one. All five of us stood side by side, staring up at the flames protruding from the furnace that once housed me, and kept us safe for the past few days. It seemed like we should have said something to wish Carl and Stacey well on their journey to the next life, and to again thank them, Carl especially, for what he had done to give us a bit more time. There was a bittersweet feeling that they had gone together, arm in arm, irrespective of the terrifying turmoil that surrounded them. We sincerely hoped that the next chapter was an even better one for them, and that they got to enjoy their next lives together, away from fear, away from pain, away from
zombies
. There was no time for that serenading goodbye though, as although the zombie infestation upstairs was now a well done barbeque, not even half of them who had filled the carpark would have been taken out by the flames, plus we still had some more out on or near the high street we had spotted who we needed to contend with.
Even filled with the adrenaline of the near-death escape and fall to the pavement, I could not put anything on my ankle. It was smashed beyond recognition, with my foot facing the wrong way and two bones escaping my skin. The pain was like nothing I had ever felt before, taking all my strength not to pass out, which I imagine the adrenaline did aid with. Derek scouted the streets and noticed a few deathly silhouettes headed in our direction which although were walking, were walking quickly, actually a little quicker than the ones we first met in the pub. Realising the time restraint, Jon ripped apart some of the sheets that had escaped the blaze, wrapping a tourniquet just below my shin to cut off the blood supply to my ankle. Brushing away the debris, he grabbed my foot and looked at me in the eyes.
“This is going to hurt a bit, mate”
He wasn’t lying.
Grabbing my backwards facing foot on both sides, he swiftly crunched it back into position, pulling the exterior bones back inside yet tearing my skin in the process. The pain was unreal; I couldn’t help but yelp in agony, like a small puppy getting his tail trodden on. That’s all I remember of that moment, the pain was so severe that it knocked me for six, and like a little bitch, I instantly, and ashamedly, passed out.
5.
Slowly coming to, I immediately recalled the pain of my shattered ankle. It still hurt with the same intensity, yet now felt slightly more compact, slightly more controlled, like someone had made me a sort of homemade cast. The only thing making it worse was that it was bouncing around.
Hang on a minute, all of me is bouncing around.
Why the fuck am I bouncing around?!
Gingerly, my eyes began to open to reveal that I was on my front, facing the ground, yet the ground was several feet below me. I was bouncing like mad, and could hear the noise of someone panting for breath from a mouth I assumed belonged to the person who’s arse my head was uncomfortably close to, with three other similar panting noises coming from different sources out in front.
“Hey”
I uttered, which caused a sudden halt to my bouncing momentum.
A voice then acknowledged that of my own.
“He’s awake”
Lifted up, over and down, I found my singular footing and adjusted both my body and mind to what was going on. Only now realising I had passed out, I instantly felt embarrassed, but Phil must have thankfully lifted me and put me across his shoulders in a fireman styled carrying position, then all four boys had just started running. I wasn’t sure how long I had been out, but noticed that we were somewhere on the Rushmoor roads that link Fleet and Aldershot, a far few miles away from where I had so ungraciously lost consciousness, subsequently realising I must have been out for a good hour if not more. Phil looked understandably exhausted, so after giving him a hug of thanks, the boys took the opportunity to sit down for a moment and catch their breath. I didn’t have a watch on and had discarded my phone back at the flat, but time really now meant nothing anyway as every day was rolling into one. The vision was low though; it was near on pitch black, so I knew it must have been pretty late.
The blackness of the night was only exacerbated by the lack of buildings and street lights, further accentuated with the high trees from the deep woodlands arching over us from either side of the road. We were very much so out in the open, but quietness of an unpopulated area meant we could easily hear if something was coming, plus a lack of people hopefully meant a lack of zombies too.
“How are you feeling, princess?”
Smarmed Lance.
I didn’t answer. I was really embarrassed for the passing out, but also for the injury; I’ve never been one to show signs of an injury weighing me down or admitting a weakness, but everyone knew that this was going to be a huge detriment to our survival. I couldn’t run, and although Phil had carried me all this way, he simply wasn’t strong enough to do it continuously, nor would I expect it of either him or the other three.
The boys had made me a splint too, strapping bits of discarded wood presumably that blew out of the flat window against either side of my foot to hold it in place. The tourniquet was doing its job in that I wasn’t bleeding out, and they seem to have done a pretty decent bandaging job as well; not bad for a quartet of drunken louts acting under pressure. I was impressed, but I was more thankful, indicating as such with a look down at my strapped up foot followed by a smile at all four of them. They smiled back as if to say don’t mention it, but this was no time to stand around and kiss. I hopped into the woodland to find a reasonably thick branch offcut, snapping it down to a size that matched my height. I knew the guys would help me as much as they could, but I didn’t want to put them out, plus I was far too proud or stubborn or maybe even stupid to accept their help. This was my struggle and I’d just have to man up and deal with it. Using my new home (or forest) made walking stick, I trundled back into the road where the others were slowly getting back to their feet in order to start moving again.
These guys had my implicit unconditional trust, so the concern was not where we were going, more so how far away it was as I feared my stamina was not going to be up to much. I couldn’t quite make out where we were in the Rushmoor roads, but we were deep enough in the woodland area to know we were a couple of miles before hitting anything of note in any direction. The entirety of the stretch was about four miles which was predominately woodland and went through an army training area before leading you into Aldershot; a heavily populated military town. The latter fact struck me as the most probable reason as to why the lads had picked this as their destination, but exactly what purpose I was unsure.
“Are we heading to Aldershot?”
I panted, using my walking stick to avoid any excruciating contact between my foot and the floor.
“Yep”
Denoted Jon.
“For the Military?”
I probed.
“Erm…yep…”
Jon vaguely and bluntly responded.
I didn’t wish to question this too much as the debate had probably already taken place whilst I was unconcious. Lance, Jon, Derek and Phil were all strong minded, all opinionated, and all very smart, so I imagined the discussion had various suggestions from each party, with various pros and cons for each, argued directly and convincingly by the subsequent campaigner. Although I didn’t wish to question the decision, I did want to know a little more about it so felt the probing to be personally necessary, yet had to make sure I was doing so in a careful, considerate manner; everyone was getting tired and ratty, the last thing we needed right now is someone getting pissed off.
“I like this idea very much”
Possibly a lie, I didn’t know yet.
“Nice work guys”
No response.
“Is there a plan, or just to head in that direction to see what happens?”
Jon stopped in his tracks, the other lads following suit. I had seen Jon lose his shit once already, and I wasn’t in the right state both physically and mentally to witness it first-hand. I knew everyone had been tested to their limit, I knew everyone was completely exhausted, and I knew my questioning could easily have taken the group into a different, much tenser, possibly even aggressive dynamic. Jon looked at the floor and sighed whilst shaking his head, his hands clapped together as his head lifted to direct his gaze up toward the star-lit night sky through the gently moving leaves as they danced in the wind. His shake moved to a nod, like he was trying to convince himself of something, as his hands took a praying shape, darting back and forth to match the motion of his head. He turned to me quickly, swiveling a hundred and eighty degree on the spot, the sound of the gravel around his twisting heels being the only noise in the stillness of the night. Looking at Phil and Derek, I searched for some reassurance, but they both had their heads down and their backs to me, which made my heart race with anxiety.
It takes a lot for me to get scared, and even with the zombie attacks I had somehow managed to stifle my fear in order to react in the best ways I felt I possibly could, but this got me so worried that I could feel myself shaking. What happened whilst I was knocked out? What had they discussed or agreed? Was he just so worn-out that my incessant questioning had pushed him to the point where he wanted to knock me out again? From the looks of it, it didn’t look like I was going to get the gratuitous carry I received last time. Plus although I’m significantly shorter, I’d normally put up a pretty darn good fight and fancy myself taking the victory, but on this occasion I didn’t have a leg to stand on. Well…I had one.
Jon paced toward me, staring directly into my increasingly widening eyes as I tried to reverse from him to no avail. He stopped half a foot in front of me, the other three still looking away as if to be turning a blind eye of shame to whatever was going to happen. Jon, closed mouth, took several deep breaths through his nose as he raised his hands and put them on my quivering shoulders.
“Mate”
He exhumed.
“Y-y-y-yes?”
He leaned in closer, his hands tightening on my shoulders and his eyes still penetratingly gawking through mine.
What the fuck is he going to do?
“We’re going to Mark’s”.
My fear instantly turned to a disappointment and angry hybrid. Mark was a dick. I fucking hated him and these guys knew it, which I now realised was why they were being so secretive and blunt about where we were headed; they didn’t want me to know where we were marching to until the very last minute, when I absolutely had to go along with their plans. They weren’t annoyed with my questioning; they were worried about telling me of our destination. They had evidently utilised my unconscious state to make an agreed plan I would never have advocated, which I’m sure had good reason but for now, I couldn’t see the water for the shit.
Mark was a twat that, with the exception of my brother (who was probably completely neutral in the whole decision making process), had been friends with the all the guys since they were kids, growing up and going to school with him, and him still remaining a drinking buddy of theirs throughout their adult years. I had met him a couple of times, and although we clashed and never really saw eye to eye, we made a conscious effort to just do the sensible and mature thing of ignoring one another, exchanging pleasantries only when we absolutely had to.
Yet one night we had all gone out boozing, and Mark took a shine to Ashley, my now long-time girlfriend, but she was relatively new to the scene at the time. He talked to her all night, which is fine, I’m not the jealous type and she can talk to whoever she wants, but he began to get very hands-on with her which she really didn’t like. Having told me, I subsequently made him aware of my dissatisfaction, telling him to back the fuck off in quite an aggressive and very public way. However, with the calming, peace-making words of Jon, Derek and Phil, I let it go and continued with the night.