Demise of the Living (27 page)

An unsettling thought
occurred to Mo:
What if the
guys don’t make it back?

Sure, the food would last
longer, but Mo would have to deal with Sharon’s politicking of the
others. Was she trying to edge him out? Trying to turn the others
against him?

Mo had heard staff
bitching about her being two-faced. At the time he’d put the
backstabbing down to the redundancies and the ill feelings the loss
of job security had created. He was a placid kind of guy, but
Sharon was the polar opposite: aggressive, stubborn, and
self-absorbed—everything he had come to expect in a
manager.

He knew he would have to be
careful in the coming days.

He walked into the gents’
toilet. With the generator running, the lights sprang to life as he
entered the room. He went to the sink and started the tap
running.

Mo knew he wouldn’t be able to
do this for long. The water pressure would drop and he wouldn’t be
able to wash himself properly. But for now he could, and he was
thankful for such a blessing.

He looked at himself in
the mirror. His hair was too short to show any sign of neglect, but
raising his chin high he could see the stubble making an appearance
over his neck and jaw. He swept a hand over his cheek and felt the
bristles that were starting to give his skin a darker
tint.

“Where am I going to find a
shaving kit in here?” he asked his reflection.

Other than Sharon, no one else
seemed to be making the time to stay clean.

Mo gave a smirk to himself in
the mirror, realising there was one trait he and Sharon shared.

He rolled his sleeves up, took
off his socks and shoes, and set about his ablutions.

It only took a few minutes to
go through his ritual of cleaning. When he was done, he walked out
of the toilet and into the third floor office. He had chosen the
third floor, as this gave him a modicum of isolation. Liz’s
infected boy was tied up on the fourth floor, as far away from
their living quarters as possible, and the third and second floors
were empty save for desks and chairs. There was no reason anyone
would come onto this floor. No reason anyone would disturb him.
Little chance he would be discovered.

He walked over to the
meeting room. It was nothing more than a glass box dropped at the
end of the office. All the floors had two meeting rooms, one at
each end. No imagination to the building’s design; it was just a
cheap battery farm to house phone-monkeys.

Before entering the room he
decided to take a walk over to the window and check if Colin,
Billy, and Thomas had made it back yet.

***

Bolting out of the loading bay,
Mo could see three cars lined up in the alleyway waiting patiently
at the gate. The smog-muffled sun was on its way down, drawing
darkness with it.

His lungs pounding, Mo
thundered across the tarmac, key in hand.

“Come on, we ain’t got all
day!” Thomas called from his open window.

Mo slipped the key in the
lock. “Everything go all right?”

“
Fine, fine,” Thomas
replied. “But get a move-on, will you.”

Excitedly Mo nodded and pulled
the gates open.

A moan echoed off the walls of
the alley. Mo looked up from holding the gate open, but couldn’t
see any zombies.

As soon as the gates were fully
open, the procession made its way into the parking lot.

Mo looked into the window
of the middle car and saw a teenaged girl. As Billy pulled past he
made a quizzical face and pointed at the second car.

Billy unwound his window.
“Waif we picked up. Don’t shut the gates just yet.”

Mo frowned.
“Why?”

“I’ll explain in a minute,”
Billy said.

There was the sound of barking
and an excited blur exploded from the loading bay to dance wildly
in front of Billy’s car.

“
Good girl. Good girl,”
Billy praised in a high-pitched tone. He hopped out of his vehicle,
and grabbing the dog by the jowls he rubbed at its head vigorously.
“Good girl. Now stay.”

The dog immediately stuck its
backside to the tarmac, tongue out, panting heavily.

Running to catch up with the
dog came Melissa and the rest of the building’s occupants.

Billy proceeded to Karen’s
car.

“
Leave the engine running
and get out,” he said.

Karen obeyed and slipped out of
the car. As soon as she did, Billy took her place. He put the car
in reverse and burled it around to face the alleyway. Then, much to
everyone’s surprise, he drove the car through the open gates.

“Where the hell is he going?”
Thomas asked, standing by his procured car.

John hopped down from the
loading bay steps.

“Where's my car?” he asked.

“We traded her in,” Thomas
replied with a smirk.

“Seriously, where’s my car?”
John said angrily.

The sharp crunch of metal and
dull thud of plastic drew the group’s attention back to Billy.

“What’s he doing?” Sharon
asked.

“Well, if he’s trying to make a
run for it, he’s fucked it up,” Thomas quipped.

Billy had struck one of
the large commercial refuse bins and was nudging it down the
alleyway. The plastic scraping against the stone sent a tremendous
din reverberating off the canyon-esque walls of the
buildings.

“He’s blocking the access,” Mo
said.

“Why?” John asked.

“I get it,” Thomas said.

He ducked back into the
car and started up the engine. Like his comrade before him, he
swept the car around in reverse until he faced the gate. This time
though, he turned right and began pushing a refuse bin to block the
south of the alleyway.

“Will someone please explain to
me what’s going on?” Sharon demanded.

“It’s them,” Karen said
softly.

“
Who? You’re not making
much sense,” Sharon said indignantly. “And who are you
anyway?”

“They followed us. Thousands of
them,” Karen replied.

“They followed you? Why did you
lead them back here?”

“The fence won’t keep them
out,” Karen said. “They’ll break through it like they did at the
school.”

“They’re barricading the
alleyway,” Mo said.

“
Will that be enough?”
John asked.

“I don’t know,” Mo
answered.

“Maybe if they can’t get in
they’ll leave us alone,” Karen said.

“
I very much doubt that,”
Sharon said, walking back into the building.

***

Colin opened the door to
the canteen and was hit by the atmosphere. The rest of the
building’s captives were inside, laughing and talking and eating.
Although the camp lights cast a harsh white glow, there was a
jovial party mood. The smell of cooking raised everyone’s morale
and it felt more like an impromptu barbeque than a compulsory
sanctuary.

“Ah, sleeping beauty’s awake!”
Thomas exclaimed.

There was a weak cheer from the
gathered survivors and Colin raised a hand in acknowledgment.

“You feeling better, big man?”
Billy asked.

“
Yeah, a bit thirsty and
a pounding headache, but yeah, good,” Colin said. “What happened? I
don’t remember much.”

“I’m guessing you banged your
head when you crashed John’s car into the school gates,” Billy told
him.

“It’s dark outside; how long
was I out?” Colin asked.

Billy glanced at his
watch. “A good six hours.”

“Would you like one?” Liz
offered, holding out a breaded lump of chicken.

Even bathed in the sickening
blue flame from the camping stove and the harsh white light of the
lantern, the amorphous chunk of factory-rendered meat looked very
appetizing.

“Please. I’m famished,” Colin
said, rubbing his stomach.

“
Should we be cooking all
this stuff?” John asked. “I thought you wanted to save
it.”

“
This won’t keep,” Liz
explained. “It’s all the food from the school freezers that
defrosted. At least if I cook it off, it’ll last cold for a day or
two.”

“Looks like you’ve cooked off
enough food to last a month,” Thomas chimed.

“You’ll be surprised how
quickly it will go with eleven mouths to feed,” Liz said.

There was the clunk of glass
against glass and Sharon made a fake cough to draw everyone’s
attention.

Clutched in her hands were four
glass bottles.

She announced, “I was saving
these for... well, I’m not sure now, but it feels appropriate to
open them tonight.”

She set three of the bottles
down on a convenient table and ripped the foil from the fourth. In
a rather unladylike stance, she gripped the bottom of the bottle
between her thighs and the neck with both hands.

“One, two, three!”

Sharon popped the cork
from the bottle. There was a dull sizzle and the cork tumbled to
the floor.

“
Disappointing,” Sharon
said, obviously expecting more of a spectacle. “I’m sure it will
still taste just as good.” She beckoned the group over. “Grab a cup
everyone. John, be a dear and open the rest of these.”

“These were the prize for the
highest monthly sales total,” John said, picking up a bottle.

“Don’t think we’re going to
meet target this month, John, now do we?" Sharon said, filling a
coffee mug with the champagne.

“Suppose not,” John said
reluctantly as he popped the cork.

A line formed and Sharon and
John started pouring the beverage into a variety of drinking
vessels.

“
Hold on a minute,” John
said, tilting the neck of the bottle vertical again. “Aren’t you a
little young to be getting a drink?”

Karen stood with a plastic cup
in hand, her head cocked.

“How old are you, girl?” John
asked.

“Eighteen,” Karen lied
automatically.

“Karen!” Colin snapped from
behind.

“No, really—how old?” Sharon
asked.

Karen looked over at Billy as
if for support. Billy gave a nod.

“Fifteen,” Karen said.

“I don’t see the harm in one
glass,” Colin said.

“Thank you, Mr. Lee,” Karen
replied, holding her cup out.

“
Call me Colin. We’re not
in school anymore.”

“Ma, can I have a drink too?”
Melissa asked excitedly.

“You’re much younger, honey. I
don’t think so,” Liz said.

“
Oh,
ma
!” Melissa said,
folding her arms and scowling.

“You wouldn’t like it anyway,”
Liz added.

“
Would you allow a
buckfizz
?”
Billy asked, waving a carton of orange juice.

“A what?” Melissa said.

“
Well, I...” Liz smiled
at her daughter. “Okay then.”

“What is it?” Melissa said
curiously.

Billy filled a third of a
cup with champagne and topped it off with orange juice.

“Would you mind if I had one,
too?” Karen asked, holding out her cup.

“Champagne too strong for a
hardened drinker like you?” Billy joked.

“No, it just doesn’t taste all
that nice,” Karen admitted.

“
What about you, ma’am?”
Billy said, making a bow to Liz.

“You know, I think I will,” Liz
said.

“Straight up or with a
mixer?”

“Straight up, I think.”

John passed Liza blue mug with
the Superman logo emblazed on the body. She accepted it by the
handle and gave him a “Thank you” before taking a greedy mouthful.
She closed her eyes and took a long breath of air through her
nostrils, allowing the champagne to sit in her mouth and the
bubbles tickle her tongue. With her eyes still closed, she tilted
her head back and swallowed.

“
Who’s not had a drink
yet?” Sharon asked. She went on point and tried to scan the room.
The camp lanterns brought welcome islands of light to the gloomy
canteen, but their glow only held back the darkness for a few
metres. She spotted the security guard at the back of the room.
“Mo, you don’t have a glass.”

“No, I’m okay, Sharon. Thank
you,” Mo replied shyly.

“
Oh, go one, Mo,” Sharon
cajoled. “Once it’s gone, I don’t know when we’ll taste
more.”

“No, honestly, I’m fine,” Mo
said.

“He doesn’t drink,” John
interjected.

“You don’t drink?” Sharon
asked.

“
No,” Mo said with a weak
smile.

“Are you sure?”

“
Quite. Thank you,” Mo
replied.

“Well, more for the rest of
us,” Sharon said, turning round to pick up a bottle. She studied
the three on the desk. “Where’s the fourth one?”

“I don’t know,” John
answered.

He looked around the
canteen to see if he could spot where it had gone, then noticed
Thomas, Magda, and Alex making for the door. He nudged
Sharon.

“What?” Sharon asked.

John pointed at Magda’s
distinctive yellow and red football top as it disappeared through
the doorway.

Sharon snorted out a
“
tisk
” and shook her head.

“Should we say something to
them?” John asked.

“No, John, it’s fine; a bottle
between three seems fair,” she replied. “In fact, since Mo isn’t
drinking, I think we got the better part of the deal.”

Thursday

Chapter
14

Colin woke up. His mouth
was dry and his head still throbbed. The coat he’d been using as a
sheet was bunched up around his feet. He sat up and stretched out.
His neck and shoulders were hard and inflexible. He put a hand on
the nape of his neck and rubbed it, feeling the muscle taut and
unyielding.