David – Thursday: Plague Day
He landed on top of the zombie. Its legs caved and it tumbled from the tree. David slammed into the branch, slipped off and felt gravity take hold once more. He scrabbled and scrambled as his brain howled and somehow, by some miracle, caught hold of the branch.
His body slipped off and his shoulder wrenched as his arms took all his weight. He held on though. He couldn’t let go, he couldn’t fall down there. He wrapped a leg over the branch and pulled himself up until he lay belly down on the wood. It was sticking into him in all sorts of places but the pain was negligible compared to the panic that had him in its grasp.
He panted and pushed his forehead into the branch, willing the sharpness of the sticks to bring him back to himself. He didn’t really know what that meant anymore. He didn’t know who he was to be brought back to. But he chewed on his lips and felt the roughness of the bark beneath his skin and slowly but surely his breathing slowed.
Then he noticed the growls. They were low, like a dog with its hackles up, and they sounded vaguely silly. Like humans pretending to be dogs. He opened his eyes and peered around the trunk. The zombie he’d knocked off was buried beneath a pile of his companions. In the moment in which he looked down, one of them stood, a severed arm gripped triumphantly in its fist.
David swallowed and closed his eyes again. Was peace too much to ask for? He opened them and watched as the horde scattered, leaving behind blood-covered bones and a stain on the grass. He should have felt somehow better that the one who’d tried to kill him was dead. He might have, too, but some of those who’d finished feasting on their companion turned their eyes upward.
They didn’t see him to start with, their deep-sunk eyes roving through the branches. Then one pair settled on him and the owner of them staggered to the tree and began to climb. He watched, fascinated despite himself. The thing had the coordination of a three year old, but it moved on memory, hands jerky as they gripped and pulled.
And it climbed, far faster than he wanted. It was beneath him soon enough, clawed hands reaching for him. He kicked it and got a lucky strike. One of the hands shattered, fingers dropping off as the rotting flesh beneath gave way.
David nodded, satisfied. It would go away now, like a wounded wild animal. Only it didn’t. It was balanced precariously on a branch, but still it reached for him. It wouldn’t give up, would it? Because it wasn’t a wild animal. It was a human. He would have to do something, actually make the choice to do something.
The zombie wobbled back and forth but maintained its place on the branch. If it landed on the floor, would it suffer the same fate as its comrade? There was only one way to find out. He took a deep breath and gripped the branch as hard as he could. Then he slipped his feet off and hung, well within reach of the zombie.
His heart sat just behind his tongue, trying to choke him. The hands reached for him, one whole and the other bearing stumps dripping blood. He kicked at them and then at its head. His foot slammed into its face and it slipped and lost its footing. He watched it tumble down through the branches, fierce grin on his face.
It wasn’t a grin he’d have recognised. It probably wasn’t a smile he’d have ever worn before his days alone. But things had changed. It was a grin that showed the cracks.
The zombie landed with a thud and flailed around like a beached whale. Just as he’d hoped, the others closed in and fell on it, biting and chewing and tearing. His grin widened. He could stay up here as long as he needed. Perhaps if he was silent they wouldn’t even know he was here. He could stay here and be peaceful and quiet.
He climbed up to his original branch and tucked himself with his back against the trunk. He squirmed until he felt something close to safe and waited. They would leave. They knew they couldn’t get him now and they wouldn’t want to risk being eaten by their mates.
Then he heard a growl and the fantasy vanished.
Another was trying to get up the tree and now he had to make a decision. They didn’t seem to move all that fast, even when they were attacking. He’d seen Dawn of the Dead but he’d seen 28 Days Later too. The question was, were these the fast or the slow zombies?
Assuming they were slow, he could probably outrun them. He could definitely outrun them. But where was he running to? Being out here meant more trees and open spaces and nowhere to hide. The roofs of the tall apartment buildings poked through the trees to the south. They were the nearest. He’d get to one and lock himself in. Then he’d have some peace.
He could knock this zombie on the floor and run while his friends ate him. His stomach turned over and his hands shook. He was going to do this. He was actually going to do this. He wished he’d said something to Amber. Just sorry would have been enough.
He clambered down a branch, biting his lip. The zombie below was clumsier than the previous two and taking its sweet time climbing up. David found a handy branch the right size to swing on and prepared himself. He was going to do it, he was really going to do it.
What was he doing?
Sweat broke out across his forehead as he tried to scramble back up to safety. He grabbed the branch above and hauled, but it snapped and he swayed. He grabbed the trunk and clung on, breathing like an fitting asthmatic. How could he be so stupid, he couldn’t do this, it was suicide.
A hand wrapped around his leg and he shouted in surprise. The clumsy one had got close enough to snag him. He lashed out and succeeded in dislodging its hand. Then he slithered lower and booted it in the chest and before he had time to think, he dropped lower still. The zombie hit the grass and they swarmed.
David scrambled down the last two branches and hit the ground. He froze, staring with wide eyes at the bundle of zombies. The sound reminded him of the one time he’d had to have dinner with Amber’s aged parents. They slurped and slobbered through bad false teeth. This sounded like that.
One of the creatures raised its head, as if it smelled something, then turned slowly to face him. David took one look into its dark eyes and ran.
He raced across the grass. They watched him, but made only cursory efforts to follow. He was going too fast, his feet blurring beneath him. His grin found its way back to his face and he sped up. He hit the road and found a new turn of speed.
‘Wooooooooooooooo, come on you bastards.’
He was flying. They’d never catch him. Most of them weren’t even fast enough to turn and see him before he was past them. He raced out the gate and even had enough time to reflect on how crazy it was being able to run straight across Marylebone without getting taken out by taxis.
Laughter streamed out behind him like a tail and they could grab at it all they wanted, they’d never take him. He ran into the huge semicircle at the top of Portland Place and straight up to the front door of the first flat on the left. He grabbed the door handle and yanked.
Nothing.
He stared blankly at the set of buzzers beside the door, mouth moving. He almost pressed one. Then he pictured Steph, pouting at him from the bed. She would be one of them by now. Her lips would be pale and cracked and her gorgeous dark eyes would be sunken and red. She had buzzers. How would she get out of her flats? Would a zombie remember the release button?
He started to laugh and heard a shuffling sound. It was close enough that he could see the lines and cracks in its face. He covered his mouth, shaking his head. He couldn’t let it catch him, it would tear him apart. It would eat him.
It would eat him.
It would eat him.
It would eat him.
It would eat him.
It would eat him.
The thing took a step and the smell hit his nostrils, freeing him from the loop. He was fast. He was the wind. He set off, escaped the black gate at the bottom of the steps and shoulder-charged the zombie. It tumbled back and landed on its arse and his laughter pealed around Portland Place as he ran.
He was the wind. Straight ahead was a hotel, huge and imposing and unlocked. Beside the door stood a zombie in a top hat and tails, with a fine red jacket on. The hotel doorman was still at his post and if anyone noticed the cracked skin and coke-addict eyes, they didn’t mention it.
David ran straight at him, still laughing. The impact took the air from his lungs, but it sent the doorman flying. He smacked into the glass-fronted door hard enough to send cracks through it.
The doorman swayed his head to and fro and put his hands on the floor. David should have gone past, but he was intrigued by what had happened and stayed, staring at the zombie. When the doorman rose, he left behind half of his insides. His skin had broken and crumbled and come away from his back. His innards stayed behind on the crumbled skin. But still he rose.
David grabbed him by the arm and swung him round, sending strings of lung and intestines flying across the steps of the Cavendish Hotel. He released him and the doorman flew down the steps and landed in a heap at the bottom. Without his stuffing, his body crumpled and folded. The head landed atop the mess, the eyes still staring up at him.
David’s laughter dried up in his throat. It was still alive. How was it still alive? It didn’t matter, he was the wind. He pushed through the door and stepped into the huge entry hall of the hotel. The ceiling was miles above and massive golden and glass chandeliers hung from it, highlighting the red and white colour scheme. The carpets were the sort you only found in hotels.
The reception desk was tucked neatly into one corner of the reception area and sat behind it were two female zombies. David wasn’t sure female was relevant, save the fact they wore dresses and had long hair that was falling out in large wet clumps. They saw him as he came in and both spread their translucent lips into horrible impressions of smiles.
David ran straight past the desk, forgoing check-in just this once and headed for the stairs. He would find a room and relax. Maybe have a sleep. He thought about sleeping with the creatures walking and creeping around and shook his head. Not a chance. Maybe just a rest.
He arrived on the first floor and went to the door and stared blankly at the card slot beside the handle. He needed a card to get in. He needed a card. He groaned and put his head in his hands. He was getting the strongest feeling of deja vu when he heard a noise and turned. The zombie receptionists had left their posts and taken a personal interest.
Next Installment Monday 13th October
