Zombiekill Read online

  “Mom, what are you doing? Shut it,” whispered Charlie. She tried to bring the window closed, but Jemma pushed her back and glared at her.

  “No. We have to help her. We can’t leave that poor woman out there.”

  “We don’t even know who she is. For all we know she could be—”

  “Could be what?” Jemma bit her lip and looked at Charlie. “Look, I know you’re scared, but she needs our help. We can’t just turn her away. If we leave her out there like that she’ll die. We have a nice house and plenty of room, and I’m not going to turn away and forget I saw her.”

  Charlie watched as her mother swung the window wide open and leaned over the ledge. Jemma let out a low whistle. Calling out would only alert the dead and cut off any hope of safe passage to the house. She needed to try to get the strange woman’s attention carefully. Jemma whistled again and began beckoning over to the house with both hands.

  “Is she coming?” Charlie kept her voice to a whisper, afraid that anything louder could suddenly bring a hundred dead people up into her room. They couldn’t climb the fence around the house, but with the window open, she didn’t feel very secure.

  Through the open window, Charlie heard the woman scream. “Help, me!”

  “Fuck.” Jemma turned away from the window and ran across to the door, the red dress flowing gracefully around her.

  “Mom, what’s happening?” asked Charlie nervously. She didn’t want to look. She couldn’t stand to see it happen again. In the early days she had seen too many people die horribly. She didn’t need to watch it happen again.

  “She’s making a run for it. She’s coming here. I’ve got to get down to the front gate and let her in before they catch her. Get your father.”

  The woman outside screamed again, her voice echoing around Charlie’s bedroom and coating the walls and floor with a desperate plea for her life. Charlie felt sick again and shook her head.

  “No, Mom, we can’t. Dad said it was too dangerous. We should—”

  “Charlie, just get your father—now! I am not leaving her out there to die.” Jemma raced out of the room, leaving Charlie foundering. The noise from outside the house was increasing, and her mother’s footsteps were thundering through the house as she ran downstairs. Who was this woman? Who was crazy enough to go outside? It was selfish, that was what it was. They were going to draw all the zombies to the house, and then they would be stuck forever. Charlie knew she had to get her father. He would know what to do.

  “Dad? Dad!” Charlie sprang into action and raced out of her room, down into the lounge. Shafts of bright sunlight shone through the blinds illuminating the room, but he wasn’t there. “Dad?”

  Charlie called out frantically, but she couldn’t hear any movement from within the house. He had been looking for something. Was he in the garage?

  “Dad, where are you?”

  As Charlie ran out of the back door into the driveway, Kyler came running from the garage. He wielded a large crowbar above his head, and his eyes were wide open. They were no longer full of lust but worry and fear.

  “What’s going on? I heard a scream. Where’s your Mother?”

  Charlie sucked in a deep breath. “It’s a woman. Out there. She’s the one who screamed. She was by Mr. Riley’s house, and… I don’t know who she is. I told her to forget it, but Mom wanted to help. I didn’t know where you were. I thought…”

  Kyler grabbed Charlie’s shoulders, and his eyes bore into hers. “Where’s Jemma? Where’s your Mother?”

  Charlie glanced back at the long driveway that led to the front gate. High brick walls sheltered the driveway from the neighbors, and the front gate was made of thick iron railings. “She wanted to let her in, before the others—”

  Kyler shoved his daughter out of the way and sprinted down the long driveway toward the road. “Jemma. Wait, Jemma. Don’t open the gate.”

  The sun warmed Charlie as she stood there watching her father run after her mother. He ran like a maniac, as if he were possessed. He was waving the crowbar above his head like a soldier going into battle. Surely her mother would wait? She knew how risky it was to open the gate. They hadn’t opened it in months. There was just no need. They ran the risk of letting the corpses in if they did, so it stayed shut. Kyler had drilled it into Charlie to never go out there, not that she needed any convincing.

  “Jemma!”

  Charlie heard her father call out and then began the long walk down their drive to the road. Charlie felt a sinking feeling in her stomach as she walked through the yard to the side of the house. This woman was going to ruin it all. Today was supposed to be a good day. Instead she had fucked it up. Her father was angry, understandably, and her mother was risking the security of their house by letting her in. The woman had ruined everything.

  As Charlie turned the corner, she broke into a jog. Her father was almost at the end of the drive, and beyond him Charlie could make out her mother. There were figures shambling around in the road, and Charlie saw the woman running for their house. Several corpses were following her, and Charlie felt the knot in her stomach tighten. The front gate was open.

  “Mom?”

  Charlie shivered in the sunlight as she broke into a sprint. She ran as hard as she could, trying to catch up with her father ahead of her. Something wasn’t right. Why wasn’t her mother answering? Why had she rushed ahead like that? The woman was almost at the gate now. To Charlie she seemed to be running slowly, as if she had no energy left. How long had she been out there? Charlie knew her mother was right. They couldn’t ignore her. They couldn’t turn the other cheek and pretend they hadn’t seen her. As Charlie ran and neared the end of the drive, she saw her father raise the crowbar and bring it down sharply on the head of a corpse that had gotten near the front gate. Christ, what had her mother done?

  The gate was open.

  Charlie’s whole body shook as she ran. Sweat stung her eyes as she neared the gate, and she saw her father drive the crowbar through the forehead of a corpse trying to push its way through. Behind him, the screaming woman fell to the ground. Three zombies immediately pounced on her, with more following. Charlie watched as the woman was submerged beneath a tide of moving dead corpses, all biting and scratching and pulling at the woman’s skin. The screaming stopped quickly.

  That’s when Charlie noticed her mother. She was laying on the ground just outside the gate, her blood pooling on the road around her red dress. There was a huge gash in her neck and blood around her head too. Jemma’s mouth was open, but no sound came out. A zombie had hold of her legs and was biting her thighs, ripping out huge chunks of flesh.

  “Mom!” Charlie raced to the open gate, but Kyler blocked her path. He slammed the crowbar into another zombie and shoved Charlie back. She fell over and watched as her father extended a hand through the gate.

  “Jemma. Take my hand. Come on. I can’t… I can’t…”

  Charlie watched as her mother reached out a hand, but she was too far away. She had gone outside the gate, onto the open road. She was only six, maybe eight feet away, but she may as well be a hundred. Another zombie found Jemma and jumped on her, plunging its gaping jaws into her abdomen. Charlie saw her mother screw up her eyes, and her face contorted and twisted in pain as a huge piece of flesh was ripped away from her stomach. The silver pendant around her neck reflected the sunlight and briefly dazzled Charlie. She blinked away the tears, and when she looked back at her mother, the life in her eyes had gone. Her body had stopped moving, and her arms had gone limp. Another zombie had discovered her and was gnawing on her left leg, pulling away the smooth skin with its teeth as if shredding a chicken.

  Charlie rolled onto her stomach and threw up. Her vomit was sour, and she started to panic. They were all going to get in. They were all going to die. Her mother was going to die. Her mother was dead. She was dead, dead, dead. It wasn’t the sight of the blood that brought more bile and vomit up Charlie’s throat, it was the bloodcurdling scream that her father uttered. S
he knew then that it was over.

  With a huge shove, Kyler pushed the gate shut and locked it. He dropped the crowbar on the drive and then crawled over to his daughter. He pulled Charlie to him, and Charlie waited for him to pull her closer so they could share their grief, so that they could comfort one another. Instead she felt the sharp sting of his slap and she recoiled, clutching a hand to her cheek.

  “What…?” Charlie looked at her father, not recognizing the man who sat before her. Sweat ringed his face and dripped from his nose. As he swept his brown hair from his eyes she saw a fierce anger in them that she had not seen before. She felt terrified of him in that instant and knew things would never be the same again as he grabbed her shoulders. “What have you done, Charlie? You know what they can do. What the fuck have you done?”

  The tears flowed freely down her cheeks, and Charlie wished her mother was back inside the house. She wished she had found her father sooner and that she was anywhere else but here. There was nowhere to run. Her father slapped her again, and he dug his fingers into Charlie’s soft skin as he shook her shoulder like a rag doll.

  Kyler screamed in her face, spit spraying his daughter’s face. “What were you two doing? How could you let this happen, Charlie? What the fuck were you doing?”

  Kyler pushed Charlie away, and she fell back, cracking the back of her head on the hard driveway. He stood over her like a giant, pointing a thick finger at her, anger burning his cheeks.

  “I told you to look out for each other, didn’t I? Didn’t I? Have I taught you nothing?”

  Kyler stormed away to the house, and Charlie curled up into a ball, tears pouring from her eyes for her dead mother and the life that awaited her now.

  CHAPTER 1

  “Look, Schafer, I appreciate what you’re saying, but this is my house. If I hadn’t taken you in, where would you be right now? I’m not trying to score points. I’m just saying that you need to listen to me. I’ve got it right so far, and I’m right on this one. Leave it be. We’re good here, and there’s no need to go upsetting the apple cart.”

  Schafer looked at his wife Magda for a clue as to whether he should push it or not. She could read these situations better than him and pick up on things that he missed. Schafer could analyze a chessboard and work out potential moves well in advance of them being played out. He loved the game and its ruthlessness and the paradox between its structure and freedom. He would play games with his friends whenever time allowed and often saw similarities in reality to the game. This was another occasion when Jeremy was playing to win. He had all the pieces lined up and knew Schafer couldn’t afford to risk pushing forward. They were locked in a battle of wills, and as much as Schafer was enjoying it, he had to bring himself back from the edge sometimes. Magda always knew when he should cool it or go for broke and push his Queen forward. He looked at her now for reassurance: should he push on and go in for the kill or keep his advantage for another time and stay back?

  The look on Magda’s face was telling him not to go there. If he tried to argue further it could make things worse. There was enough tension in the house already without him adding to it.

  “Okay, okay,” said Schafer scratching his unkempt gray beard, “let’s do it your way. You’re right. Of course, we are your guests. I’d just like for you to think about the future and how long it’s realistic for us to stay here. That’s all I was trying to suggest. But it’s okay. No problem, Jeremy, no problem at all.”

  Schafer offered his hand, and Jeremy shook it. The two men had an uneasy friendship; one based more out of necessity than real respect. They got on with each other because they simply had to. There was no other choice given the circumstances. Both knew it, and both tried to maintain a cool distance from the other. There was no hatred between them but always that distance. It was safer that way. They had learned not to get too close to people. It was easier than when they left.

  Schafer walked across the cold linoleum to Magda. “Okay. Let’s go chat with Rilla. She’ll want to know.”

  Magda was an ample woman, large framed with a pudgy face and thick arms. She had begun to lose a little weight given the restriction on how much food there was available now, and her clothes were starting to look a little loose around her waist. They weren’t hanging off her yet, but Schafer knew his wife was going to need a whole new wardrobe if they were still here next winter.

  “Ja, okay. Natürlich.”

  Schafer winced when she spoke. Her English was not as good as his, and he knew how much it pissed off Jeremy when they spoke in their own tongue. He turned around to face Jeremy.

  “I’m sorry, my wife…”

  “It’s fine. You go talk to Rilla. I should be helping Lyn out in the garden anyway.”

  Schafer could tell that Jeremy was trying to hide his annoyance. Had they not already been arguing then, Magda’s German may have led to another ‘discussion’ about the respect for other people’s wishes, but as it was Jeremy let it slide, and disappeared quickly out of the sitting room. He said nothing when he left and made little noise when he walked. He was a tall, slim man matching his tall, slim wife, and Schafer still didn’t feel at ease in his presence. They were just too different in their backgrounds, their attitudes, and culture. The only thing they had in common was the need to protect their families. Both of them had done well up to today, and together they could say they were survivors.

  Schafer pressed his flannel shirt down, trying to get the creases out of the collar. He still tried to keep a good appearance despite the conditions. Washing was a rarity and, of course, they had no clothes of their own. Having to borrow clothes made Schafer feel uncomfortable, and wearing Jeremy’s shirts meant Schafer always felt a little uneasy around him. Even the way they dressed was different. Schafer chose red checks and stripes, whilst Jeremy was dressed as usual in dark clothes. Today he wore a black shirt tucked into dark jeans, and keeping tabs on him was like watching a shadow dance in the dark.

  Schafer pulled on his beard thoughtfully. “Magda, please, remember we talked about this. Jeremy doesn’t like us speaking Deutsch.”

  “Aber, ich-”

  “Nein. No.” Schafer took his wife’s hand, noticing her fingers were thinner and that her wedding ring fitted a little loosely now. The pale band of skin underneath it was beginning to show, but getting a wedding ring resized would prove extremely difficult. “It’s not easy for you. I know this is awkward, but with me and Rilla helping, you can do it.”

  “Okay, okay. Yes, I will try. I find also it is…schmerzlich. I mean it is not easy for me. I don’t like this American.”

  Schafer squeezed his wife’s hand. Her eyes met his, and he wished he had been able to convince Jeremy that staying was not a viable long-term solution. Jeremy’s house was large enough for them all to sleep comfortably in their own rooms, and safety wasn’t an issue. The house was well built, the windows and doors were always locked, and the retaining wall around the back garden meant they had a barrier between them and the corpses which was practically insurmountable. Jeremy had turned the whole garden into a vegetable patch before Schafer had even arrived with his family, and it looked like they were settled in for the long haul. Schafer was worried though, worried a lot.

  “You don’t have to like him. But we do have to get along. Come, let’s see Rilla. If we’re going to live with him and his family any longer, then we need to understand them, to work with them, and make this happen. We need to do it for Rilla.” Schafer led his wife through the house, past the closed windows and blinds, and up to the guest room that had become their daughter’s room. Pushing open the door, Schafer found his daughter lying on the bed reading a book. He looked around the room, impressed at how tidy it was. Everything was neatly folded or correctly stored, the books lying neatly on the dresser. For a seventeen-year-old girl, she was impeccable.

  “Rilla, are you okay?”

  As Schafer entered the room, Magda went straight to their daughter and sat down beside her on the bed. The duvet c
over crumpled immediately, and there was a popping sound as one of the springs in the mattress went.

  “Ja, obwohl ich bin gelangweilt. Mein buch ist nich sehr gut. Es ist eine dumme Zombie-Roman. Was haben Sie sprechen mit Jeremy uber?”

  “English please, Rilla. We need to help your Mother. You know how Jeremy doesn’t like it when-”

  “Okay, fine. In English.” Rilla rolled her eyes and put her book on her pillow. “Jeremy doesn’t like anything.”

  Schafer smiled. His daughter’s brown eyes sparkled when she got angry. She reminded him a great deal of his own mother. It wasn’t just the physical similarities, but the personality that was starting to shine through now that she was getting older; turning from a child into her own woman. Rilla was strong but smart with it. She knew when to pick a fight and when to stay quiet. That was something she had learned from her own mother.

  “Maybe not. But he saved our lives, and we are in his home, so we have to respect that. I cannot make him do anything.”

  Rilla hugged her mother and then shrugged. “So what? We live here forever? Wait until we run out of food?”

  “Jeremy thinks he can grow enough food for all of us. He said Lyn has got a lot of vegetables growing, and until they are ready we have enough tins of food and supplies to last.”

  “You think he’s telling the truth?” Rilla looked at her mother. “Do you think so?”

  Magda nodded. Her face was sad. “Ja. He tells truth.”

  “He’s not trying to trick us, Rilla. You have to understand that he’s been through as much as we have. What he’s made here with Lyn and Victoria is a good thing, and I can understand he would not want that compromised.” Schafer went over to the window and parted the curtains. He wanted to see them. He needed to see them, to be reminded that they weren’t gone, that the dead were still all around them. He needed to remind himself why he had agreed to stay here. “All he wants to do is protect his family. You can understand that, can’t you? I’m not saying I agree with him, but I can see his point of view. It’s far safer to stay behind these walls than to go out there.”