Going Out

"Get yourself up boy!" Jack kicks the makeshift bed before throwing the large rucksack into the chest of the awakening teenager. "The foods run out again, it’s your turn to go out and get some more." He starts to walk away but stops and turns back towards the boy. "And get me something decent this time; I’m sick of eating tinned fruit." Sitting himself up, Charlie puts on his glasses and looks back at him with disgust. He wonders why Jack even bothers to lie. They both know there is no such thing as taking turns anymore; these days it’s only him who is ever sent out.

The fifteen year old then looks around the dimly lit and windowless room at his fellow so called companions. One by one they too are rising ready for a new day. It may well be new but they all know it’ll be the same as every other one for the past seven months; the long hours just sitting around knowing that any chance of rescue or escape has long since gone. Looking into their eyes he sees dread and desperation as they watch him preparing to go out; still not one of them will make the offer to take Charlie’s place. After all they are the adults and he is just the kid.

Only seven of the survivors are left from the eleven which got trapped on that first day; the day when hell ascended to the once quiet village of Sanford. Charlie had for years yearned to leave this small piece of the armpit of Middle Class England. He remembers forever moaning away to his friends that nothing exciting ever happened and he had even started counting down the days until he was old enough to leave.

He was inside the high street bank putting hard earned paper round money into his escape fund when it started. Another line of his precious book was being filled in by the teller when they heard that damn screaming for the first time. Barely audible at first it quickly grew both in volume and intensity until everyone inside the bank stopped what they were doing and went over to the large windows.

Slam! Miss Peacock, Charlie’s teacher at junior school, was thrown against the window; her contorted face jammed up against the glass as a rabid bald man chewed hungrily away on the back of her neck. Her deep blue eyes were firmly locked on Charlie; she seemed to be mouthing something to him as thick red blood gurgled out through her lips and onto her chest. More and more of these crazed beasts appeared in the street and two broke away from the mass of joined in on the feast and she was quickly ripped to the ground and away out of sight.

Jack Conroy, the Bank Manager, was the first to move. He ran over to the door and threw the locks shut. As the last one clicked a young woman appeared at the glass door. "Help me! For Christ’s sake please let me in!" she begged as her fists banged away on the barrier to safety. Her tear filled eyes suddenly darted to the left but Jack just stood there and watched as she was rugby tackled by a boy not that much older than Charlie. As the ravenous horde descended on her body and tore and bit into her sweet flesh an almighty chorus filled the air, it was a multitude of unanswered pleas for help.

Spinning around face the others Jack barked out an order "Everyone get into the back room, let’s get the hell out of sight." No one moved a muscle; the shock had set in. "Come on! Get yourselves bloody moving!" he screamed at the top of his voice and only then did they began to stumble backwards with their eyes still transfixed on the slaughter. Through the tall, wide windows it was like they were watching a movie scene over at the next towns multiplex.

The back room was soon filled with sobs, crying and cursing as everyone tried to figure out in their own way what in Gods name was going on. Names were being called out as they started to realize the fate of their loved ones but even so no one left the safety of the bank to try and help. Jack, as I am sure he had done most of his life, took control and told everyone it would all be sorted out in a few days. He told them help was coming.

Of course it wasn’t and the days and weeks soon passed. The storeroom on the first floor was now their new home, it was made as comfortable as possible but it was still a prison. After a couple of months two men, Dave and Paul, decided they had enough of just sitting around and set out and find some help. They left early one morning along the rooftops promising to all that they would return soon and true to their word four days later they did. This time they came back not along the rooftops but straight down the main road to the front windows and joined in with their new "friends" in scratching and gnawing away at the glass.

Two more of the group were lost on different occasions whilst out on the search for food and supplies. Someone had to go out every week or so as only a limited amount could be carried each time. They were losing people far too regularly; that’s when Jack decided that the boy was expendable.

Charlie heads up the stairs to the attic, unlocks and opens the skylight and clambers out onto the heavily sloped tiled roof. Peering over the edge he sees that the passage of time has not deterred about twenty of the infected who are still trying to get through the windows and doors below. They cry out wildly with their own frustration of being unable to feed the savage hunger which burns deep inside them.

The boys’ nose twitches wildly and his hand comes up to cover it, the stench rising up from the street is almost unbearable. The smell of the rotting flesh, blood and guts fills his nose and the back of his throat making him retch. He thought he would’ve gotten used to it by now but deep down he knows he never will.

Crawling along the rooftops until he’s sure the hungry ghouls haven’t seen him he then rises to his feet. Stopping for a few seconds he blows his warm breath into his cold hands. Its turning to winter and all he is wearing is a t-shirt and a light spring jacket. "Got to find myself a new coat" he reminds himself and continues on his way whilst brushing roughly cut ginger hair from his eyes.

After all these months of scavenging he has to go further and further away from the bank in the search of food. The village was too small to have its own supermarket and the only convenience store had been over run before it could drop its shutters. He had checked it out once and there must have been about fifty of those zombies strolling in and out. They too were doing that damn screaming whilst searching for food; but not for any that could be found on the shelves. No matter how desperate they get he knows its way too dangerous to go anywhere near there, the opposite direction is where he is heading.

As the row of rooftops ends he takes one last look around to ensure it’s clear. With a long, deep breath filling his lungs he descends into the at least quiet looking street. Ducking behind the first car he tries to decide which way to go. There may well be plenty of houses in the village still full of the tinned food he so desperately seeks but he also knows that every one of them was compromised when the horde attacked. Normal windows and doors were no barrier, of no protection against the force of the hunger. Charlie has to pick one where he can see inside; to make sure that nothing was just lying in wait for him to stroll on in. Past experience has shown him that some of the monsters were drawn to stay in or close to a house, in fact their own house before they had turned.

Using the array of parked and abandoned cars as cover he makes his way along the main road. The screaming is coming from all directions and he uses this to keep his distance from them. Instinctively he turns into Selhurst Road just like he had done a thousand times before but immediately he stops and remembers. At the end of this road is where Charlie lived with his parents and his little sister Kaitlin. The month before he had gone back to his home and what he saw that day still gives him nightmares.

With a shiver running down his back he turns and continues along the main road and soon he is at the very outskirts of the village. The last few houses are pretty thinly spread out and Charlie has a good chance to have a decent look at them. The very last one seems to be clear; it’s a picture postcard little cottage with its neatly thatched roof and whitewashed walls. Sitting in its overgrown garden he watches through the broken windows and door for any movement inside. Twenty minutes later he is happy, well maybe not happy, that it’s clear and he rises and heads for the front door.

Gently pushing the broken door inwards he enters the long dark hallway with his breath held so tightly it hurts. Standing still when he gets inside he can sense no sight or sound so whilst slowly releasing his frosty breath he moves on towards the farthest room.

Once inside the pristine kitchen the rucksack comes off his back and he sits it down on the hefty wooden table. As the first cupboard door is opened his face lights up with delight. Its jam packed with enough tins and packets to keep them all well fed for a couple of weeks at least. His relief is not just because he will soon have a full belly it also means a while will now pass before they send him go out again. When the rucksack is filled to the brim he shuts the cupboard doors and its then that he sees her.

Standing in the doorway is Miss Peacock; she is staring right at him. Her once bright blue eyes are now a dull and lifeless grey and her mouth and chin are stained black with her own dried and rotten blood. They just stand and look at each other for a couple of seconds before she lets out a deafening scream and charges with her bloody arms outstretched in front.

Charlie swings the heavy rucksack in his hand as hard as he can at the onrushing monster. Whack! It smacks her on the temple and she flies back over the table. Her crazy screaming gets louder and louder as she squirms away in a frenzy on the floor. By now in a panic the boy picks up a heavy frying pan and brings it down repeatedly on its head. Soon its face is smashed and pummelled into an oozing sodden mass.

Crash! Charlie spins around to face the front of the house, to where the noise had come from. His blood almost freezes as he hears a new round of screams; at least four of the undead are charging into the house. They must have heard her cries and they also want their own piece of flesh. Looking at the filled rucksack he knows he has to leave it, it would slow him down too much so dropping it he runs out the back door through the garden and onto the open fields. Even without looking he senses them right behind him; he can almost feel their breath on his neck. Those maddening screams may be ringing in his ears but they are also sending a bit more adrenalin to his pumping muscles.

He may be running away from the village but he has no choice, he must lose them before he can even think about returning. After running for ten minutes he takes the chance to glance behind him. Six of the beasts are now behind him and if anything they are closing the gap. His lungs feel as though they are on fire and it dawns on him that he can’t keep up this pace and soon they will catch him and start to feast upon him. With tears flowing from his eyes he can barely see a few feet in front of him.

Bang! Bang! Shots ring out and fly over Charlie’s head. "Over here kid" a voice in the distance calls out. Automatically runs in that direction as more and more of the bullets whistle by his ears. Blinking wildly to clear his eyes he sees an armored car ahead with two soldiers poking out of the top and firing at his pursuers. The bullets stop and one of the soldiers jumps down and grabs hold of Charlie. "Calm down kid we got them. You’re safe now, come on, get in the back and be quick."

Once inside the huge truck starts its engine and heads off down the road. The same soldier as before grabs Charlie by the chin and checks him over. "Did they get you?" he asks while pulling up the boys sleeves to see his exposed flesh. Charlie pulls back and shakes his head "No Sir, no bites on me. Don’t worry about me, I’m not going to turn." The grizzly soldier lets out a slight chuckle and then smiles at him. He goes into his top pocket and pulls out a chocolate bar which he throws to Charlie; this is quickly ripped open and devoured. He takes his helmet off to show a man aged about forty. "Okay kid; take it slow and easy, I don’t want you puking that back up. We are from the army base; it’s about twenty miles away and are out here on a scouting mission. Now can you tell me if there are any other survivors in that village you were running from? Is there anyone else there that need our help?"

He thinks long and hard before answering, thinking about the others who forced him to keep going out. "No sir. It’s was just me left, everyone else there is long dead. I was out looking for some food when they spotted me."

The soldier rubs Charlie’s hair and says "You’ve done really well to survive alone for this long kid. What age are you anyway?"

Charlie smiles at him "I am going to be sixteen tomorrow sir." Sitting back deep into the seat he firmly closes his eyes. His hand goes into his jacket pocket and he grips tightly onto his precious little bank book.

He thinks to himself "That’s it; I am finally old enough to leave that little piece of hell, Sanford."