Bayleigh – Thursday: Plague Day
Someone was screaming. The sound was horrible, like the person’s throat was raw and all that came out was this animal howl. Something grabbed her shoulders and she shook it off and spun around and before she knew what she was doing he fist connected with Layla’s jaw.
Layla went flying, smacking off the wall of the alleyway and onto the floor. The screaming cut off and she put her hand to her throat, realising where the noise was coming from.
‘God, I’m so sorry, I’m so—’
‘It’s fine, it’s fine, just…’
Layla held her arms out and Bayleigh fell on her knees and they held one another until the tears came, like the shower after a hard day at work. Only they washed nothing away. But it felt better than the blankness that had got its claws in her before Layla grabbed her.
She pulled away and turned around. She didn’t want to look but she had to. She had to check. He was still there. His hands, so warm and loving, looked like something from a comic book, twisted and curled up and grotesque. She heaved and put her hand over her mouth. Vomit trickled from either side and she put her head down and let it come out.
Layla rubbed her back, murmuring something about it getting better. Bayleigh began to laugh. It started quiet but escalated until she couldn’t control it and she was scared of herself but couldn’t do anything about it. She was trying to say something though the gasps but she couldn’t form words.
Layla backed away and crouched against the wall. Her forehead was creased and she looked like a deer about to bolt. Bayleigh pushed her nails into her palms and stared at Ali’s body until the laughter stopped as abruptly as it had started.
‘It’s already got better. Hasn’t it? Wasn’t that what happened last week, with the flower seller? It got better, it all got better…’
She was crying again and she felt rather than saw Layla come back over and stand above her. When she looked up into her eyes, she saw something that surprised her. They were hard. Not bad-hard, just, resigned. Layla reached out a hand and pulled her up. Bayleigh rubbed the palms of her hands over her eyes and took a deep breath. They peeked out of the alleyway again.
The street was littered with bodies in all directions. People had fallen as they ran and were stretched out in all sorts of weird poses. Bayleigh’s gorge rose again and she took a deep breath. She looked sideways at Layla. He friend was staring at the bodies like they weren’t even there and she wondered if the hardness wasn’t something else.
They tiptoed out into the street as though at any moment something or someone was going to explode from somewhere. But the chaos of earlier had ended abruptly and now the silence was almost as unnerving. The city was dead. Why weren’t they?
‘Why are we here?’
‘Because we ran?’
Bayleigh sniffed. ‘No, I mean, why aren’t we, you know?’
‘Dead?’
‘Yeah?’
Layla shrugged and picked her way between the bodies toward the shop opposite. She flung her next words back over her shoulder. ‘I dunno, but I’ve wanted that jacket for ages and I don’t think anyone’s gonna mind if I borrow it.’
There was a boutique clothes shop on the far side of the road and Bayleigh watched open-mouthed as Layla wandered in and walked into the window display. She pulled the jacket off the model, checked the label and put it on. Happy with the fit, she strolled back out into the street.
‘Layla, that’s stealing.’
‘From who? Everyone’s dead in case you hadn’t noticed.’
‘I…’ She was struck dumb for all of two seconds then stepped forward and grabbed Layla by hew new lapels. Her words came out in a hiss she recognised no more than her screaming from earlier. ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, my boyfriend’s lying on the floor over there. It’s still stealing. And when did you start stealing?’
Layla frowned, looking at her feet. Her voice was small. ‘What’s happening?’
Bayleigh took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know. But we need to stay who we are and not start acting like lunatics.’
‘Hey, it’s just a jacket.’
‘It doesn’t make any difference.’
‘Jeez, who died and made you the law?’
‘Everyone, actually.’
Her voice had changed again and become hard-edged and blunt. Layla’s eyebrows rose from their frown and she stared at her boss. Some of the hardness went and what lay behind it reflected what Bayleigh thought might be waiting in her own mind. It wasn’t just a reluctance to accept but a willingness to choose a different reality to escape this one.
She shook her head. ‘We’re together and we’re still alive, so whatever’s coming, we can handle it, right?’
The edge was replaced by shaking, but she sounded convincing to her own ears and Layla nodded, playing with her fingers. ‘Can I keep the jacket though?’
Bayleigh barked a close approximation of a laugh and crossed to peer into the shop window. ‘Don’t think anyone’s going to mind.’
She looked around. It was the stillness more than anything. When she was the only one moving it felt like everyone was looking at her, even though they lay face down for the most part. But when she stood still, the city might as well be empty. There were no pigeons and the wind was almost non-existent. Only a pennant hanging from one of the posh shops further down the street stirred occasionally.
She longed to shout and scream to fill the silence, but she could still picture the soldiers perfectly. She didn’t want them to know she and Layla were still alive. What had they done? Why had they done this? Who were they? And why the hell were the two of them still alive when everyone else wasn’t?
Layla gasped and Bayleigh watched her stand on tiptoes and wiggle like she was dancing.
‘What is it?’
Layla turned to her, face pale and Bayleigh felt her blood run cold. She tried to run to her friend but there were too many bodies and she stumbled on them. She caught herself before she fell and made it to Layla’s side. ‘What is it?’
Layla pointed at a spot where the road ran down into a deep gutter. ‘Rat.’
‘What?’
‘Rat. There was a rat, a big one.’
Bayleigh’s laughter was fuller this time and carried some genuine humour. ‘You’re really worried about a rat?’
‘It was chewing on his arm.’
Bayleigh swallowed the saliva that filled her mouth and crouched beside the body. His face was twisted in a grimace as though he’d hurt himself falling to the floor. Perhaps he had. Perhaps he wasn’t actually dead but trapped in some horrible stasis where he could feel everything but not move.
Her fingers shook as she pressed them against his wrist. There was nothing there; no pulse, no warmth, nothing. He was dead and the corner of his trousers bore little ratty teeth marks. On second inspection they weren’t that small. She pulled his trouser leg up and looked at skin beneath. There were marks, red indents, but the rat had stopped the moment it broke the skin. Presumably, Layla scared it away.
She had an image of a mountain of rats feeding on the corpses and turned to her friend. Layla had gone from pale to white and had one hand outstretched, pointing, shaking. Bayleigh followed the finger and her heart slammed in her chest like a hammer, ferocious and exhausting.
Someone was sitting up. In the centre of the street, one of the dead people was sitting straight up. She couldn’t see her face, but she was stiff and her head moved slowly as though she was trying to loosen it. Bayleigh wanted to go over and check she was alright. Another person, a little further down the street did the same and the chill thawed a little.
The smoke was obviously temporary. It didn’t explain why it had happened, but it did mean Ali would wake up. She drew nearer to the woman and stopped with distance still between them. There was something about the way she moved her head, something a bit Exorcisty, that made her skin crawl.
From the front, she got a better view of the woman’s face, but her long dark hair still covered too much to be sure. Then the woman flicked her head from side to side. It was a normal gesture, but it looked affected and strange and was even creepier than the original movement. It exposed her face and Bayleigh screamed.
Her skin was the colour of pale concrete and her eyes were red and sunken. Veins sprang like tributaries all over her face and as her mouth opened, she saw teeth that belonged to a ninety year old who’d never brushed. The woman fixed her eyes on Bayleigh and a sound somewhere between a growl and sandpaper against a metal wall emerged. Then she lurched to her feet and came at her.
Next Installment Thursday 11th September
A slightly different cover image this week. It’s far creepier, but I’m not sure whether I like it. Please leave a comment and let me know what you think.
