Dead Island (16 page)

‘We want guns,’ said Purna simply. ‘One isn’t enough.’

‘You look hard enough, you can find guns anywhere,’ said the tattooed man.

‘We ain’t got time to go lookin’,’ said Sam.

The weasel thought about it, then eventually he nodded. ‘OK. But you get the guns
after
you get back, not before. And just so’s we know you won’t run out on us, we keep two of you here. As insurance. Him and her.’

He gestured casually with his gun at Jin and Dani.

Purna shook her head. ‘That’s unacceptable.’

‘That’s the deal,’ said the weasel. ‘Take it or leave it. But if you leave it, I reckon that’ll be bad news for you.’

He grinned, and looking into his eyes Purna knew exactly what he meant. But she tried not to show her anger or frustration; for now the weasel and his cronies were holding all the aces.

‘I’ll be OK,’ Jin said bravely.

Dani nodded. ‘I look after her.’

Purna glanced at Sam and Xian Mei. Sam raised his eyebrows. Xian Mei’s face was stony.

Sighing, Purna shrugged. ‘Guess we don’t have much of a choice,’ she said.

‘BE
CAREFUL
.’

They approached the door cautiously, Sam in the lead. They could see that it had been separated from its hinges by a crowbar or something similar and then shoved roughly back into position. On the door a sign read:
STAFF
ENTRANCE
ONLY
. Situated on the far left of the huge back wall of the supermarket, the door was almost unnoticeable next to the big metal roll-up doors of the loading bay, which were five times higher and wider. It was here, adjacent to the currently empty staff car park, that trucks delivered goods in bulk to the warehouse. And it was here that Xian Mei had suggested they try to gain access to the building.

Getting to this point had actually proved easier than any of them had anticipated. Rather than hanging out by the offices and municipal buildings that seemed to dominate the far end of the long main street, most of the infected had wandered away by the time Purna, Sam and Xian Mei were ready to exit the police station, and were congregating en masse at the other end, where the retail outlets were. Maybe it was some kind of long-buried memory that drew them to that area, thought Sam, or maybe it was simply that that was where the majority of their food was – or at least had been. He guessed that, like the old woman with the loud TV, a lot of people must live in houses or apartments above or behind their business premises. Where the majority of those people were now was anyone’s guess. He liked to think that some of them had got away, or even that they were still holed up in their homes with plenty of provisions to hand. But he suspected the real truth was that they had either been ripped apart and devoured by the infected, or had become part of the massed and still growing ranks of the walking dead.

Whatever the motivations of the infected, in this instance they had given Sam, Purna and Xian Mei a relatively easy ride. Sprinting from the door of the police station to the van, they had only had to take out a couple of slavering, snarling attackers instead of an entire horde of them. And on the short drive round to the back of the supermarket, only one zombie had got in their way – a girl of about ten in a pink dress, who had flown through the air after being hit by the van and had clattered to the pavement like a broken doll. Glancing in the side mirror as they sped away, Sam had seen the girl lurch to her feet and shuffle pointlessly after them, despite sustaining what appeared to be multiple fractures.

Thankfully, the area at the back of the supermarket had been even more sparsely populated. In the almost-empty car park, which was enclosed by thick hedges, they had come across only three of the infected. One, an old black woman, who had been down on her hands and knees, her face buried in the torn-open belly of a headless corpse, had ignored them completely as they drove past. The other two – a long-haired guy in a Led Zeppelin T-shirt and a thin woman in blood-spattered spectacles, who looked like an archetypal librarian or prim schoolmistress – had run at them from opposite directions the instant they opened the van doors.

Purna’s first shot at the long-haired guy had been a bad one for her; the blast had gone low, taking away most of his left hand, but barely slowing him down. The second shot, by which time he was less than ten metres away, had ripped off the top of his head. He had kept running for maybe two steps, and then, as though realizing what had happened to him, had collapsed like a felled bull.

By this time, however, the schoolmistress was on them and targeting Xian Mei. As she leaped like a panther, her teeth bared and fingers hooked into claws, Xian Mei spun and side-stepped, bringing the machete round in an upwards sweep. It was such a perfect stroke that it separated the woman’s head from her shoulders with almost surgical precision, her now lifeless body continuing to fly forward before thumping to the ground and skidding along the tarmac. Her severed head, meanwhile, spun over and over in such a high, wide arc that it bounced on the roof of the van and looped away out of sight before eventually hitting the ground with a wet crunch.

Now, having despatched their attackers, they were moving towards the ‘Staff Entrance’ door. It was Xian Mei who noticed that someone had taken the door off its hinges, and she who warned Sam to be careful.

Sam turned and glanced at her briefly, flashing a wide but nervous grin. ‘Careful is my middle name,’ he murmured, and reached out to pull the door open.

It came free with a splintering creak, listing slightly. Sam steadied it, at the same time peering into the gloom of the high-ceilinged warehouse beyond. He could see nothing but rows of tall metal shelves stacked with boxes. There were no sounds of movement, no sign of anything shifting in the shadows.

‘All clear,’ he said, glancing at Purna, who was standing with the shotgun raised, alert as ever. She nodded and they moved as one into the warehouse, their eyes darting everywhere.

Immediately they became aware of the low buzzing of flies and a faintly unpleasant smell. They edged to the left, where both seemed to be coming from. They crept from the top of one aisle to the next, halting to peer around the end of each row of shelves. Eventually, after checking out five aisles and finding nothing, Sam peered around the corner of the next row along and instantly drew back. ‘There’s something there,’ he whispered.

‘What?’ asked Purna.

‘I can’t make it out. It’s too dark.’

Cautiously the three of them peered around the corner. Sure enough, about halfway along the aisle, was a bulky dark shape. From their position it looked like a crumpled tarpaulin or a collapsed tent. The lazy drone of flies was louder here, and they could even see flies looping and hovering above the shape, like flecks of static in the gloom.

‘It’s something dead,’ said Xian Mei. ‘An animal maybe.’

Sam broke cover, machete in one hand, flare pistol in the other. ‘Let’s check it out.’

They crept along the aisle towards the shape. It didn’t move. It was only when they were a few metres away that Sam realized what it was.

‘Aw, man,’ he muttered.

It wasn’t a single shape, but several – several bodies, in fact. It looked like a family: a man and a woman in their mid-thirties, a girl of maybe six or seven, and a boy wearing nothing but a nappy and a white T-shirt, who could have been no older than three.

They hadn’t been killed or eaten by zombies, but shot through the head. The man, who looked as though he might originally have come from China or Vietnam, was lying on his back, half across the woman, a stubby black handgun in a pool of blood on the floor by his outstretched right hand. Both the children and the woman appeared to have been shot through the backs of their skulls, the bullets having erupted out of their faces. The man’s exit wound, however, was in the top of his head, suggesting that he had put the gun in his mouth and angled it upwards towards his brain before pulling the trigger.

Xian Mei looked at the carnage sadly, wafting at the flies that buzzed above the corpses. ‘This was an act of love,’ she said.

Sam turned his head away, sickened. ‘That don’t mean it ain’t fucked up.’

Purna stepped forward and bent to pick up the gun, glutinous threads of blood remaining attached to it for a couple of seconds before snapping. ‘Waste not, want not,’ she said, handing Sam the man’s gun and her own. ‘Hold these a second, will you?’

She squatted down and began to go through the dead man’s pockets.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Xian Mei.

‘Looking for ammunition,’ replied Purna. There was a metallic jingle and she nodded in satisfaction. Holding up a handful of loose cartridges, she said, ‘It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.’

Sam had been spattered with a lot of zombie blood over the past few hours, but feeling the cold, sticky, almost jelly-like blood of the dead man that coated one side of the gun was worse somehow. Grimacing, he wiped as much of it as he could on the side of a cardboard box on one of the metal shelves. Then he took the cartridges from Purna and loaded the gun, making sure the safety was on before slipping it into his jacket pocket.

They spent the next half-hour checking out the shelves in the warehouse, selecting provisions and stacking up boxes to the left of the loading-bay doors. They went mainly for bottled water and non-perishable goods that could be eaten cold if necessary – tinned food, crackers, biscuits. They also grabbed themselves a few essential toiletries – soap, shampoo, toilet paper, toothbrushes, toothpaste. When they had chosen what they needed from the warehouse, they moved deeper into the building, towards the double doors at the back of the room that led on to the shop floor.

The right-hand door opened easily and they slipped through into the public part of the supermarket. The neatly stacked shelves, silent aisles, unmanned checkouts, stacks of baskets and rows of trolleys were currently bathing under a softly glowing half-light, everything set out and ready for another day’s trading. Standing there and looking around, it suddenly struck Sam that it was a day that would never come. He couldn’t imagine when life would return to normal here on Banoi – or, indeed, if it ever would. Certainly it seemed likely that long before then the fresh fruit and vegetables would have withered or turned to gloop, and the bread and cakes would have gone green and rotten in their cellophane packets. The meat, too, would decay, and before long the entire building – like many other buildings on Banoi – would start to stink like a charnel house. The sheer horror of that prospect all at once threatened to overwhelm him, making him feel breathless and sick.

‘You OK?’ asked Purna, frowning.

Sam pulled himself together with an effort and gave a curt nod. ‘I’m cool,’ he muttered.

Xian Mei pointed off to the right. ‘The pharmacy counter is over there. Aisle two.’

Purna nodded. ‘OK. Let’s take this slowly.’

They moved forward, Sam’s rubber-soled shoes squeaking slightly on the polished floor. There was the faint hum of fluorescent lighting overhead but no other sound. Xian Mei had suggested that as well as looking for Mr Owen’s Nadolol, they should also stock up on basic medical supplies, dietary supplements and vitamin pills. She grabbed a metal basket from a rack, which provided an almost comical contrast to the blood-smeared machete in her other hand. When they reached the pharmacy section, Xian Mei rounded the counter while Sam and Purna kept watch. Swiftly the Chinese girl scanned the shelves and began filling her basket with vitamins, painkillers and other over-the-counter medication.

‘There’s no Nadolol here,’ she said. ‘If they have any it’ll be in the back.’ She crossed to a white door at the back of the counter and tried the handle. ‘Locked. Though I think I could probably kick it open.’

Purna nodded. ‘Go for it.’

Xian Mei stood back, centred herself, then kicked out at the door. She did it twice more in quick succession, the flat of her foot impacting just to the right of the handle. In the silent, high-ceilinged room, the sound boomed and echoed, causing Sam to grit his teeth. On the fourth kick there was a crunch and the door flew open.

Xian Mei entered the tiny, shelf-filled room and emerged within fifteen seconds, holding up a number of white boxes. ‘Success,’ she said – and then her eyes abruptly widened. ‘
Sam, look out!
’

Sam turned just as an enormously fat man in a gore-spattered green T-shirt burst from the cover of a nearby aisle and crashed into him. Both he and his attacker went down in a heap, Sam smashing his head against the bottom of the counter. The gun flew out of his hand and skidded away across the floor. Dazed, he could barely defend himself as the zombie snarled and snapped like a rabid dog, baring its teeth and lunging forward in an effort to tear out his throat.

Unable to risk shooting the zombie for fear of hitting Sam, Purna flipped the shotgun around and smashed the butt of it into the side of the creature’s head. Its cheekbone broke with a brittle crunch and its head snapped back, but it was only a momentary respite. Eyes fluttering, Sam raised his hands to keep the creature’s teeth from his face, howling in pain as it bit into the side of his wrist. Purna hit the zombie again, catching it just behind the ear, but again the blow seemed to have little effect.

Xian Mei vaulted over the counter and joined in the fight. She hacked at the zombie’s back with her machete, opening terrible wounds which gushed with foul-smelling, partly congealed blood. Purna, meanwhile, rammed the stock of the shotgun between Sam and the creature, trying to prise the zombie off him, or at least prevent it from tearing out his throat. Composing herself, Xian Mei took aim and then brought the machete down with precision, slicing through the back of the zombie’s neck and severing its spinal cord. The creature began to thrash and convulse, its limbs jerking spasmodically. Putting aside their weapons and working together for a moment, Purna and Xian Mei were able to haul the creature off Sam. It lay on its back, its mouth opening and closing, like a fish washed up on the shore. Xian Mei picked up her machete, stepped forward and beheaded the creature with two blows. The rage faded from its eyes and it stopped moving.