Blood on the Floor: An Undead Adventure (14 page)

He coughs, spraying water from his mouth and twitches his head to the side in an instantly recognised message that tells her he’s had enough. She adjusts her aim and lets the water hit his neck and chest. The wounds are filthy and if he was as hot as her then it will help cool him down.

The puddles form around his body to run in streams down the lane back towards the farmhouse. She feels sleepy. Instantly sleepy. The sound of the water is soothing. Paco’s breathing is regular and deep, also soothing. She’s soaked through but warm and the water in her belly makes her feel pleasantly full. Her eyes droop to close. She’ll give it a few minutes. Just a few. No. She snaps awake. Not here. Can’t sleep here. Not safe. Survive. Can’t stay outside at night.

She needs him up to check the farmhouse. He has to get up now. ‘Paco,’ she calls his name and spots the response but figures it’s from her voice and not recognition of his own name. Onto all fours and she crawls over to him, noticing the shadows growing longer and deeper.

‘Paco…get up…’ she speak softly, urging him to wake up. His eyelids flutter, his head twitches. She pokes his shoulder. ‘Oi…wakey wakey…’ He twitches again, an arm lifts an inch then drops. He swallows with a gargled noise emanating from his throat. She pokes harder, pushing into his shoulder and it’s not so bad now he’s been hosed off a bit. She gets onto her haunches and waddles closer to get her wrapped hands under his shoulders and tries to lift him into a sitting position. ‘Up…Paco come on…up up up….’ He groans and moans like a teenager refusing to wake up. She strains, calls his name, goading and badgering him until his red bloodshot eyes blink open. ‘That’s it…come on get up…up…Paco….PACO! Get up. Come on. Up.’

He rises slowly, almost painfully, groaning as he sits up. She gets round to his front, grabs the wrist with the bra hanging off it and starts heaving him to his feet. He complies with degrees of wakefulness coming back incrementally. She keeps pulling to get him onto his hands and knees then keeps tugging to pull him up onto his feet until finally he stands as big and as broad as ever. She beams proudly, grinning from ear to ear at the accomplishment with a second’s worth of an urge to hug him. The urge dies in her throat when she remembers what he is. He isn’t human. He isn’t a person. He’s a monster to kill the other monsters.

Despite that knowledge of what he is, the act of being forced to push him along for so many hours has taken away the horror of actually touching him. She grabs him now to turn him round, physically guiding him on the spot to face back down the lane towards the farmhouse. He turns easily, seemingly willing to do as bid and stands as the puppy once more.

‘Come on,’ she says, trying not to smile and remembering there is nothing to smile about. The plan still remains. If there are infected in that farmhouse then Paco can deal with them, if that means he gets killed then so be it. She’s had water now and can run if need be. Survival at any cost. No matter what the cost is.

Fifteen

Heavy net curtains on the windows that prevent a view being gained of within but the heavy wooden stable door in the middle stands open. She edges closer, Paco right behind her. Flagstones in the hallway and a wooden staircase leading up. The smell reaches her as she leans across the threshold. Pungent and offensive. The stench of decaying bodies. She swallows and backs out to get behind Paco and pushes gently into his back.

‘You go first,’ she whispers. It’s getting dark now, almost night time. They need to get in and check it before the light fades completely.

Paco goes first into the house. Not that he intentionally goes first but Heather pushing him from behind doesn’t give him much choice. Not that he has choice either. To have choice means to have a mind. Which he doesn’t have. Instead he has equilibrium once more gained that holds everything in check. His urge to bite has gone but so have the flashes of memories.

He goes forward into the hallway and shows no reaction. His fists don’t clench, his arms don’t tense and he doesn’t snarl or do any of the things he did before. A door on the left. Staircase ahead and another door on the right. She goes left, or rather she makes Paco go left and hides behind him. Peering round to glimpse through his arms at anything that might come charging. The smell is worse in this direction. The door is open slightly and gets pushed wider as Paco is guided through.

The smell comes from the bodies lying in the middle of the kitchen floor. A man and woman. The woman is obese and dressed in what was once a flowery dress but now her head is almost cut off and that dress is stained dark brown from old dried blood. The man looks like a farmer. Wellington boots and coveralls. They’ve been stacked neatly, one on top of the other and she notices the cut marks look eerily similar to some of the wounds she saw back in the town and done with almost surgical precision. There’s very little blood on the floor too which is strange until she realises they’ve been stacked to bleed out on each other in a remarkably clever way of dead body positioning.

Another door stands open across the kitchen and she risks darting out from behind her bodyguard to look through into a utility room. A big metal cabinet fixed to a wall at the far end has been smashed open and she spots the shotgun cartridges and rifle bags. Someone came in for the guns. The two bodies in the kitchen were turned though, both had red bloodshot eyes.

Back in the kitchen she guides Paco out and into the hallway then across to check the living and dining rooms. Both clear and free from bodies. She gets him to the stairs and pushes his back to get him going up. He goes willingly, rising on strong legs to creak the exposed wooden boards.

At the top she sees a long corridor with doors off on both sides. Every room is open. At the far end the bathroom door hangs open with blood smears scraped across the frame and down the walls of the hallway. A hairbrush on the floor matted with dark locks but otherwise it’s empty. She checks every room. Darting in to look while being ready to run back out to get behind Paco who follows happily in her wake.

The sigh of relief is deep and full of real meaning. Other than the two bodies in the kitchen the house is clear. What now? Food. She needs food and a wash, not a hosing down like she did outside but a proper wash. She heads downstairs and locks the front door while waiting for Paco to thump down noisily behind her.

In the kitchen, Paco waits in the moonlight streaming through the windows while she navigates the bodies to scrub her hands in anti-bacterial soap at the sink before rifling the cupboards. Tinned fruit, peaches and pear segments. Tuna, beans, macaroni cheese, peeled plum tomatoes. Multi-bags of crisps, chocolate bars, sweets, long life cakes sealed in boxes. Cans of coke and lemonade and her belly rumbles with each new find that gets loaded into her arms to be carried across the hallway into the lounge. She makes several trips, getting a tin opener, forks, spoons and anything else she thinks she might need.

The lounge is dated with an old leather sofa but with the door closed it just smells musty instead of dead bodies and Paco’s unique scent soon takes that over. He still stinks despite the hosing down outside. He needs a good scrub with a stiff brush if she’s going to keep him.

It’s too dark in here. The net curtains are too thick to let the light come in. She considers pulling them back then spots the open fireplace and thanks the heavens for farmers. Kindling stacked up, logs ready, paper scrunched and resting in a basket to one side. There’s even a box of matches on the mantelpiece. The paper goes in first to be piled with thin kindling. The match lights the paper that ignites and burns to set flame to the kindling, by which time she starts placing smaller dried logs. The very act of setting fire brings the tension down. She sits back to watch the flames grow and eat into the logs. The room fills with warm smells and the crackle of real fire that spills an orange glow to chase the shadows away.

She eats there. In front of the fire while Paco stands not a few feet away like a sentinel. Silent and watchful. Just one day but already she’s got used to him being there. She opens tins and eats fruit and beans. She eats fish, macaroni cheese and fills quickly. Days of sparse diet have shrunk her stomach lining. She still manages to force some Victoria Sponge cake into her mouth and washes it down with warm coke. The feeling is incredible. A hard day of fear, running, crying and then pushing Paco but now a full stomach after a big meal eaten in front of an open fire. Just the wash now and it could be a half-decent end to the worst day of her life. Maybe you have to have the shit to taste the good? Maybe. She considers that very idea while digesting sleepily and blinking slowly.

Does Paco need to eat? Do they eat? Other than people that is. She looks up at him for any signs that he’s hungry but he watches her and not the food littered about the room.

She turns back to the fire. Monsters don’t eat. They kill. Ah but hang on, he collapsed earlier then revived after having water and every living creature needs food. Without food the body will cannibalise and eat itself. Muscles and fat will be absorbed while internal organs are put at risk. She has no clue what changes have been made to his body from being infected but only that she needs him alive and strong. It takes strength to snap necks and throw people about. Paco needs that strength and she needs Paco. Survival at any cost.

She nods with a decision made and rises to grab a tin of baked beans. She gets the top off and finds a spoon then crosses over to stand in front of him. How the hell do you feed a zombie? What if he snaps and bites her? Ah get off, he would have done it by now if he was going to do that. She loads the spoon and drives it towards his mouth.

‘Open up,’ she tells him. His eyes focus at her voice, staring intently but otherwise no reaction. She opens her own mouth hoping he will copy her. He doesn’t. ‘Yum,’ she tells him, nodding at the beans that she sniffs at while making appreciative noises. When he doesn’t do anything she drives the spoon at his mouth and nods while pushing it into his lips. ‘Open,’ she says bluntly. His lips part she smiles. His lips part more and she smiles more. His eyes watch hers. She grins, he opens his mouth wider and that smile grows as she speaks in the nice soft voice. He gets a mouthful of beans that start falling out the second she pulls the spoon clear. ‘Eat,’ she urges in that wonderfully soft voice. She masticates on the spot. Chewing invisible food while smiling, nodding and urging him gently. His jaw moves and her face lights up. He does it again. She grins and nods, ‘come on…good boy,’ she uses the spoon to push a stray bean back in that was about to fall from his lip. ‘Be strong for Heather so you can kill all the other zombies…that’s right…big and strong and dumb as anything…you are aren’t you? Yes? Big and strong and dumb?’ The tone. It’s the tone. His eyes never leave hers as she reaches up to spoon beans into his mouth that get chewed robotically and the first swallow even brings that split second urge back to hug him. Not that she would. He still stinks and he’s still an infected monster.

She hand feeds him beans. Forcing him to chew and swallow. She forks fruit slices into his mouth then dry tuna. She doesn’t give him water as that would mean getting too close to his mouth.

Not much but he takes it down. It’s better than nothing anyway and he’s had fibre, carbs, protein and vitamins from the fruit.

She stands back proud as punch with herself and feeling strangely warm inside that she puts down to being full and at least a little bit safe now he’s back on his feet. She must remember to water him if they go anywhere. Maybe get him a sunhat too. He needs new clothes for sure. What he has on now is nothing more than torn up rags.

That thought leads to another which transmutes to her own desire to wash. There was a bathroom upstairs, maybe it has a shower? She goes out into the hallway and pauses to let her puppy catch up before climbing the stairs. He thumps up forever on her heels and follows her down to the bathroom at the end.

She pulls the curtains back to let the moonlight come in and finds the shower unit over the bath. Shelves filled with big towels and her heart soars at the sight of the box of tampons on the windowsill. She twists the shower valve and feels she could cry in happiness at the jet of cold water spraying instantly from the head.

She sits on the closed toilet to unlace her new shoes that get toed off and pushed away. Her new socks get pulled off and she stands to unfasten the button on her new jeans. She looks at Paco watching her and pauses for a second to see if she feels weird about getting naked in front of him. She watches him closely while undoing her jeans and pushing them down her legs. Nothing. She pulls her top off to stand in her bra and knickers. Still nothing. She tugs the sports bra off to stand topless. Nope, not a flicker. Finally she goes for the knickers, grimacing at the thought of the kitchen roll that needs to come out. The knickers are ruined. Stained with blood and sodden. She looks down at her groin and shifts round to get the moonlight. The end of the paper is still there. She takes it gently between thumb and finger and starts to ease it down but it falls apart instantly. She takes a firmer grip and tries to pull quicker but more just comes away. She huffs, sighs and starts trying to get the bloodied paper out from her vagina. It’s disgusting and it smells horrible. All clotted and thick. She knows the risk of infection at leaving any stuck up inside. Do it in the shower. She looks up about to get in then realises what’s she doing in front of Paco Maguire. The actual Paco Maguire is in the bathroom while she probed her own vagina. Shit. She shakes her head and blinks. No one would ever believe it. He even looks half decent in this light, like all shadowy and the injuries look less severe. He still stinks though. Like so bad. She blows air at him and climbs into the bath to yelp at the cold water hitting her body. Paco jolts forward, his eyes fixed as his fists start to clench.

‘Fine,’ she waves at him, spraying water on his face. ‘S’just cold,’ she shivers and shakes as he comes closer and looks about ready to climb in. ‘Just stop there thank you,’ she tells him with an instinctive hand going to his chest to stop him coming forward. ‘Oh now look,’ she groans and shows him the hand she just used to touch him. ‘All dirty again now.’

It is cold but exceptionally delightful and with Paco pressed into the edge of the bath she washes. She scrubs and shampoos her hair from the bottles on the side of the bath. She scrubs again and conditions her hair from the bottles on the side of the bath. She soaps, scrubs, uses shower gel then scrubs and washes again. The kitchen roll does come out, with the aid of the shower head pulled down to be aimed up that sluices dark bits of paper down into the white bath. Then she washes her hair and just for good measure she conditions it once more before scrubbing her body down just one more time to be sure she’s all clean.

‘Towel please,’ she says expectantly with a wry smile. He doesn’t move but it’s okay. She’s had food and a wash. An actual proper wash with shampoo and everything. ‘Move back…go on…’ she can’t touch him now after washing so she grabs a loafer and prods it into his chest. ‘Move back, there’s a good Paco.’

She gets past him to grab an enormous fluffy bath towel that is wrapped round her body then another that is magically made to adhere to her head in the way only women can do. She finds deodorant and uses it. She gets the box of tampons and uses one. She wees, wipes and rinses her hands then mooches through the drawers in the side unit to find hairbands that get looped on her wrist and all in the presence of her puppy who turns to track her every move.

‘Come on,’ she nods at him to follow while wishing she had a proper toothbrush instead of finger scrubbing her teeth like she just did. Ah well, can’t have everything in life.

‘Oh this is nice,’ she tells Paco as she leads him into the living room to see the blazing log fire all crackling away nicely. ‘Right, new clothes. Well I’ve lost one bra and two tops but I should have some more in here. Oh this bag stinks of you now, Paco. It really does.’ She winces and uses a sock to open the zips to pull the new clothes out. ‘New trousers, bra, knickers, socks and a nice new top. All good. Good good good. That shower was so nice. I can’t actually remember the last time I had a shower. Before the church anyway. Like maybe six, seven days ago? More than that actually. I was body washing but it’s not the same is it? And my hair, oh my god it’s so nice to use conditioner.’

She dries herself with the body towel while telling Paco how nice it is to be properly clean. ‘You need a good wash,’ she tells him with a serious nod and a waggling finger while standing nudey in the lounge with a towel on her head. She starts getting dressed, pulling clean knickers on then a normal non-sports bra on the basis that sleeping in a sports bra must be akin only to torture. She did consider finding a t shirt from one of the rooms upstairs to sleep in but then figured she needs to be ready to run in case anything happens.