 
Dead Dayz

By

Shaun Whittington

Copyright 2017

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

The author uses UK English

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In October 2014, I decided to write a little book inbetween the Snatchers series (a little tradition of mine) and began writing a story about a father and son that were trying to survive in the Zombie apocalypse. I called it _Dead Dayz_

In December 2014, I decided to ditch the first draft and concentrate on a new Snatchers book, _Snatchers 5: The Dead Don't Yield_. I didn't like the finished _Dead Dayz_ , but some individuals who had read the book liked the father and son story, so I decided to incorporate it into the fifth Snatchers book.

The story was about David Johnson and his son, Harry, (Paul and Kyle Dickson), and I saved the best bits from the _Dead Dayz_ book and put it into the Snatchers book.

The following you are about to read is the original _Dead Dayz_ book. If you have read the Snatchers series, then this book still has many parts/chapters that you haven't read before, but the story will certainly be familiar. And if you haven't read the Snatchers series before, then everything I have talked about doesn't matter.

_Dead Dayz_ was initially a standalone novel, before it was dissected for the Snatchers 5 book that was eventually released in February 2015, and it seemed a shame to leave it sitting on my hard drive in its original form.

Enjoy the read, and kind regards.

Shaun
DEAD DAYZ

The Beginning
Prologue

The sound of groaning had woken her up, but Helen Davies was thankful to be taken out of the nightmare she was having about being attacked by two men.

Once her eyes were open and she realised she had been dreaming, she stretched out in the double bed and enjoyed the room she had—one of the benefits of being recently separated to that cheating rat—and saw her bedroom door slowly open. Her little girl then entered the room.

"Oh, not again," she mumbled. She slowly sat up. "Carla, you need to start sleeping in your own bed. You're not a baby anymore, you're eleven years old. You can't keep coming in here and waking me up."

Carla had been affected by her mum and dad's recent separation and her schoolwork had also suffered. It had been four months since he had told his wife that he didn't love her anymore and was seeing a young receptionist half his age. He had left behind a distraught and confused daughter and a son who was eight months old at the time. Four months on and Helen still hated him for what he did, and was trying her best to keep it together and afford the house's mortgage on her low-income wage.

Helen looked at the digital clock. 2.14am. Her daughter had now stopped walking and stood at the bottom of her bed, looking in her direction in the dark bedroom.

The mother sighed and said in defeat, "Did you have another bad dream?" She reached over and put her bedside lamp on. She looked over and once her eyes clocked Carla's face she screamed out.

She jumped out of bed, wearing only her pants, and went over to her daughter. Carla was wearing her yellow nightdress, but it was covered in blood and so was her chin. The daughter snarled and Helen took a step backwards, investigating her daughter's features. The eyes were milky, her face was ashen—it just wasn't Carla.

The daughter took a step forwards and tried to grab her mother's face, but Helen pushed her daughter back.

Drenched in fright, Helen jumped onto the bed to avoid Carla and ran out of the room. She closed the bedroom door behind her, and bolted it, panting and crying in disbelief. She remained motionless, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Carla had been feeling unwell since nine o'clock, so Helen put her to bed and decided to call the doctor if her condition didn't improve. She had been playing on her bike and had come back to tell her mother that some boy had bitten her on the hand. She managed to fight him off and cycled away from him.

Helen remained by the door and then thought of Jack. "Oh shit." She ran from the door and went to see her one-year-old. She put the bedroom light on and took a look in his cot.

Her knees buckled once she saw the bloody remains of Jack.

He was unrecognisable and apart from a leg and some intestines, there didn't seem to be much left of him. Helen fell to her knees and released a scream that could only be made by a woman that had lost her child—in this case, _two_. She didn't understand what had happened. There was only one explanation: Carla.

The heartbreaking cries were enough to wake half the street, and Helen wanted to reach out and touch Jack, but there wasn't much left of him _to_ touch. She noticed in the right corner of the cot was the remains of his little head.

Still sobbing, she turned to the side and threw up.

*

His tremulous finger pushed the button on the remote as he flicked through the channels manically. He wondered if it had finally arrived. Every channel had an anchorman, reporter or expert who was giving their opinion on the events that were occurring on this early July.

He called in his partner and she came in with two hot cups of teas and placed them on the floor and sat next to him. "Is this about those riots the other day?" she asked.

He shushed her, something he never did, and instead of becoming offended, she immediately knew that something was bugging him.

"Just watch," he ordered.

The first channel he put on was SKY NEWS, followed by BBC1, and this was followed by other channels that were available on his cable. His face was ashen with the shock as he started channel-hopping.

SKY NEWS: _"Rioting have hit major cities, but the government have played down the events."_ BBC News: _"Documents leaked from the science institute of London contradict government figures... "_ FOX News: _"Little is known about the virus that is sweeping Asia. The government have said that the cases in Asia were isolated incidents and pose no threat to the residents of Europe."_ RT: _"The Russian government have been criticised in the press for playing down the pandemic, and the media claims that figures have been grossly underestimated at what is happening."_ CNN: _"To my knowledge there hasn't been a single case reported in America, Great Britain, or Western Europe. These figures have been taken completely out of context, and threat to human life..."_ ITV News: _"Scientists in Newcastle have accepted that they could be three months away from producing a vaccine to what they're now calling, The Summer Virus."_

It appeared that in some quarters of the globe and in the UK, some were accepting that it was happening, whilst others were still in denial. It had been brewing for weeks, but it was officially announced on this day in July, and it appeared that this was something that could be detrimental to the safety of the human race.

He kept it on one channel, and once the anchorman had finished, it cut back to a selection of six short interviews by random people that were filmed on the streets of London the previous day.

Person One: _"As far as I know, it's happening elsewhere and not here at the moment, but I wish they would tell us more. If it wasn't for social media like Facebook and Twitter, we'd know nothing about it."_ Person Two: _"It's probably a joint-government experiment. You kill off half of the ever-growing population, and you save a fortune on food, water and gas."_ Person Three: _"We're an island. We should be okay."_ Person Four: _"I don't think the government are doing enough. If they are, they're not sharing with the public what they're actually doing."_ Person Five: _"I don't think the government are taking it seriously. They're in denial. And it's denial that is going to get people killed."_ Person Six: _"I heard it's not airborne, and spreads from bite-to-bite. With aviation, it's probably already here. It's probably already global."_

The channel was then changed once more to the local news, and a female politician, The Secretary of State for School, Children and Families, was expressing her concerned views on what was happening.

The TV was then put on standby and the man of the house, Brian Davidson, dropped his head in his hands. After a minute of silence, with his partner sitting next to him, he raised his head back up and gazed at her with a thin smile sitting under his nose.

He stood to his feet; the man's muscular frame towered over his partner and said with a defeated sigh, "Well, it's finally arrived. It's time to move."

His partner, Laura, nodded her head in agreement. "You were right all along."

He nodded slowly. "Yep. Unfortunately I was."
AUGUST

ONE MONTH LATER
Chapter One

Officially, it started on Thursday 3rd July, and it was a living nightmare that went by so frantically that David Johnson's recollections of the first days were sometimes a little hazy looking back. Those days went by so frenziedly that it felt like a dream, or a nightmare, which David had no way of waking up from.

It was now Monday 4th August, and it was a glorious day as far as the weather was concerned, and after a restless night, plagued by macabre dreams of the recent past, David finally woke. It was after nine, according to his Citizen-Eco watch, and he stretched out his arms and yawned a little too loudly. His sticky eyes took a while to open properly, and once they did, he could see his bedroom ceiling that could have done with a fresh lick of paint.

A few months ago this would have bothered him a little, but he had more pressing issues to contend with. His primary concern was for the little man lying next to him in his bed.

Harry Johnson was seven years old, had strawberry blonde hair and an amazing pair of green eyes, which was a mixture of David's brown and his wife's blue eyes. It was just David and Harry. He had no idea where his wife and daughter were.

As normal, on any day he awoke these days, David's day started off with sadness as he thought about Day One.

They—the media—called it _The Sickness_ , or _The Summer Virus_.

The news on the TV broadcasted horrendous images of the vicious outbreak that had suddenly occurred, and nobody had an explanation where it had come from.

Once David came out of his shock, he tried to contact his wife, but to no avail. She had gone out to the shops with his five-year-old daughter, Sarah, an hour after the announcement. It was Thursday, and all the kids were off school for their six-week holiday.

David and his wife, Jane, had taken a few weeks off work so they didn't need to rely on childminders. That day, July 3rd, in the little town of Hardridge, was like any normal day for David Johnson. The children, especially Harry, were up too early for his liking. He wished his son would have a lie-in, but he had always been like that ever since he was a toddler. David and Jane had tried everything to let their son sleep longer on a morning, especially on a weekend, which meant that they would _also_ get a decent sleep.

They'd tried keeping him up late.

At one time, on a Friday night, David and Jane gave the kids a movie night, which consisted of watching a movie from the iPad and having a bowl of chocolate treats halfway through the movie. The children went to bed just after ten, and Harry still woke up at 6am and looked fresh as a daisy. The trouble with a bored and lonely Harry at 6am was that because his parents refused to get out of bed, he would go and wake his sister up. This would be followed by arguments, the use of the toilet, and storming into their parent's bedroom every now and then, and telling on one another: "Mum, Harry hit me." "Daddy, Sarah said I'm a big baby." "Mummy, Harry spat on my pyjamas." "Daddy, Sarah's peed all over the toilet seat."

The result was the same every morning. One of the parents would get up, and the one that had a lie-in would allow the early riser to go back to bed for a couple of hours later on, sometime in the morning.

On that July morning, the last day he saw his wife and daughter, nothing seemed different when his kids got up. His seven-year-old boy and five-year-old girl were downstairs, and they were arguing with one another once they sat down in the living room.

David hated Harry and Sarah's love/hate relationship at the time, and most mornings he would have to send them to their bedrooms because of the severity of their verbal disagreements.

Still lying in bed, David's eyes began to fill up, and he pined for those days that he used to dislike to come back. It still irked him that his wife, after being out for an hour with Sarah, never answered her phone once the outbreak was announced on the TV. After four weeks, the not knowing if his wife and daughter were alive was still killing him from the inside.

But he had to be strong. He had to be strong for Harry.

David looked to the left of him and noticed that the little man was stirring. It seemed ironic that since the disappearance of his mother and sister, he was now beginning to have lie-ins. His seven-year-old's eyes were trying to open up, and the little man puffed out his red lips before he managed a wide yawn.

It was time to get up.
Chapter Two

Young Harry had taken a while to get accustomed to the new life that he had. He had no more school to go to, but would spend at least two hours a day with his dad, doing sums and reading; he had no friends anymore to see, and had to make do with playing with his dad or with himself. He was a lonely boy, and missed his mum and little sister terribly.

For the first three weeks Harry would ask his dad every day where his mum and sister were, and this was answered by David with a _I don't know_ or a _not sure_. For the last six days Harry had stopped asking, and in a strange kind of way, the usually-annoying questions that were no longer being asked had worried David.

Was Harry already forgetting that he had a mother or sister? Or had he just given up, and was certain that he was never going to see them again?

David Johnson was mooching about in his bedroom and took a look in his mirror. He had lost weight, and the grey at the sides of his hair were growing. He appeared to look old as well, and sighed at his overall appearance. Without his wife, his body was looking shabby. It was Jane that usually gave David a haircut with the clippers; she'd also cut and file his toenails. She would also remove the hair off his shoulders and back with either the clippers, on a grade 0, or with her waxing kit, if it was already on and she was doing her legs.

Harry was now in his room, playing with his toys, whilst David took a look in his cupboard. He still had plenty of clean T-shirts hanging up, as he had been using his clothes sparingly and had been using the washing machine up until the power went out on the 19th. Two days later, the water was next.

David began thinking about his sister and hoped she was okay. The last time he had spoken to his sister was the day before the power went. Like most other people, she stayed in her house and barricaded the entrances. Both David and his sister had also lost touch with their parents after three days, and both were concerned for their welfare.

David had initially adhered to the TV instructions of barricading, but after not having a single episode of one of those things coming near his house, he took away the barricades. His thinking was that his main door and his patio door were solid, and if any of those things could break through, a few cupboards and tables were hardly going to hold them back.

David was confident in his home's security, and even slept in his own bed. He was a light sleeper and knew that as soon as he heard as much as a window shattering, he and Harry would be in the attic within seconds.

After finishing glaring at his body, and mentally criticising its appearance, he walked over to his bed and sat down. His nose twitched and he leant down and sniffed the quilt on his bed. It smelt fusty, something that Jane hated.

There were other quilt covers in the cupboard where the defunct boiler was, but he decided to give it a month. It wasn't bothering him, and Harry didn't seem to mind either.

He walked over to his bedroom window and peeked out from the closed blinds. Nothing had changed. The sun was out. The windows of houses had closed blinds or shut curtains. The back gardens were lifeless. Maybe the grass was a bit longer, but that was all that had changed.

He reached for the handle of the window and decided to open it for the first time in a long time, and allow fresh air to get in. He was surprised at how different it was, compared to the last time he opened his window, the day of the outbreak. Now, it was tranquil and the birds happily tweeted their merry tune. But in the first week of the disaster, the outside world to David Johnson's ears was a mixture of speeding engines, car alarms, and human screams.

"Oh, biscuits!" he heard Harry shout from his room. That phrase was something Harry had heard in a cartoon called Kick Buttowski. David thought that it was better than cussing like an adult.

David left the window open and walked into his son's room. "What is it, sunshine?"

Still in his pyjamas, Harry looked up at his dad and sighed, "I can't find Mr Freeze, daddy."

Harry had a Batcave with all the figures, including most of Batman's enemies.

"It's okay, son." David tried to appease him. "He'll be here somewhere." David then scanned Harry's room and shook his head. The room was a mess, and it was no surprise he couldn't find Mr Freeze. David had a look under his bed and in his cupboard.

He had too much stuff.

David always told Jane that the kids had too many toys. Whenever Jane would go out to the shops with the kids and come back with gifts, David would always moan that it was just another thing to pick up when their bedrooms needed tidying. He didn't know whether it was because they had so much, but whenever they had a new toy they'd be quickly bored of it.

The perfect example was when they were both bought Furbies—it was the closest they could get to a real Mogwai—for Christmas. They were initially delighted with them, but after a couple of weeks they were never played with.

Still unable to find Mr Freeze, Harry then kicked his action figures that were lying on the floor, and David said, "Hey, be careful. Grandma bought you them last Christmas."

David then stopped with his reprimand and wondered how grandma and granddad— _his_ parents—were coping. Losing contact after three days wasn't a good sign.

Since losing contact, he had no idea how his parents were coping with this crisis, or Jane's parents for that matter. Even though he had wheels, David and Jane had a car each, there was not a chance in hell he'd go out there with Harry in tow. It was too dangerous.

Originally, he hoped Jane had gone to her parents instead, they also only lived a few miles away, but he contacted them in the first days and they told him that they hadn't heard from her. He just hoped that she was stuck in the shopping mall, and the doors had been closed down electronically or locked manually.

He didn't know what to think. The power continued for a few weeks after her and Sarah's disappearance, yet he never heard from them, and she never got into contact with his or her own parents. He would sometimes fear the worst, but he needed to be positive for Harry's sake.

"Daddy?" Harry spoke, with a recognisable sadness in his voice, pulling David out from his daydreaming.

David thought, here we go. _When is mummy and Sarah coming home?_

But he was wrong with his assumption. "What is it, son?"

"Can I see that video of me and Sarah at the fair?"

Harry was referring to the video that was taken a year ago when the family went to Benalmadena for two weeks. They went to a fun park called Tivoli World, and David had taken a video of them when they were on the big wheel.

David sighed, "You can't, sunshine." David squatted down to his son's level and placed his arm on his shoulder, awaiting another breakdown. "I told you before; we have no electricity anymore, so I can't charge my phone. It's completely flat."

He looked at David blankly and sat on his bed. Still in his PJs, little Harry lay on the bed and curled up into a ball. He remained silent and David didn't know what to say to him.

David bent over and kissed him on the forehead. "That's it. You have a wee rest."

Harry began to sulk. "I'm always ... resting. You won't let me go out anymore."

"I've already explained, sunshine." David tried to hide his frustration and kept on reminding himself that the little fellow was only seven years old.

"I know," he whined, knowing what his dad was about to say for the umpteenth time. _"The world is in a bad way, and it's not good anymore because of the monsters outside."_

David shook his head, exasperated. He was trying his best to keep it together, but it wasn't getting any easier as the days ticked by, in fact, the longer it went on for, the more Harry was becoming frustrated and lonely.
Chapter Three

As David checked the cupboard and the defunct fridge, he was beginning to realise that he was getting nearer to the day that he had been dreading for weeks: The day where there was no food.

He took a look in the bathroom downstairs, and could see that the bath was getting shallower with the water he had used to fill it. David Johnson needed to leave the house and find more supplies.

He had no qualms about doing this, as he knew this day would come sooner or later; his main problem was what he was going to do with Harry. It was too dangerous to take him along, but he also didn't want to leave him in the house, alone. The poor thing would be frightened to death, unless David decided to go out on his run during the night.

David felt that it was more dangerous on a night, and if he ever got bitten by one of the dead, he'd be done for. And Harry waking up in the morning with no daddy, hardly any food and water, with the house locked up, wasn't bear thinking about.

No matter what option David thought of, every one was plagued with negativity and what ifs.

His first plan was to go next door. He hadn't heard a thing and he was uncertain whether they were lying low, or had somehow turned. There was also a gym, a couple of streets away where he used to go. The place had a vending machine, but more importantly it had a cupboard inside the gym, and that was where they kept their gallons of water for the coolers that were used by customers.

When he was there, he would occasionally see an instructor go into the cupboard to change the water. The only people who knew about this were the few people that worked there and the small amount of members, so David was aware that there was a small chance that even if the place had been raided by desperados, the cupboard may not have been touched. And water was more vital than food.

David was lost in thought. In order to get into the gym's doors, he would need a crowbar. He knew that the longer he left it, the more chance there would be of the place eventually getting looted, but he was kind of hoping that some kind of government intervention would have happened by now, especially after four weeks.

Where was the army? Probably securing and quarantining parts of the Capital, David thought. And where were our allies? Maybe they were everywhere, like Manchester, Birmingham, Newcastle, but little towns like his own was probably deemed not as important because of the humble four-thousand population it had.

The only reason why David and most other people were feeling neglected and isolated was because there was no news, no information. For all he knew, there could be safe quarantined areas in Birmingham, the nearest city from his small town. The trouble with this was that it was thirty miles away. He was too scared to drive with Harry the two or so miles to see his mum, so the trip to Birmingham was a definite no-no. Besides, what if he did this and his wife and daughter returned?

David Johnson sighed and ran his fingers through his dark, greasy hair. He then walked into his daughter's room and peered out from the blinds to see his car still sitting on his drive.

The wheels were missing, placed in the reception area of the house, and the tank had been completely drained of fuel. This had been done by himself, so that there was no chance of the vehicle being siphoned or stolen. It felt like a good idea at the time, and it was something that he implemented after a few days, but if ever David and Harry needed to leave with the car suddenly, it could be counterproductive trying to re-fill the tank and to put on four wheels.

He had made a decision about their dwindling supplies predicament.

He was going to check the neighbours first, then go to the gym. Tuesday, he decided. 4am. At least then it would be getting a little light, but Harry would still be dead to the world. If his neighbour, Robert and his family, were unharmed, he thought that maybe they could work together in some capacity to feed their families.

Still glaring from the blinds, his train of thought was disturbed by three creatures shambling on the other side of the street. He held his breath, and watched as they slowly disappeared from view and exited the empty street.
Chapter Four

Although David had tried to explain to his son on many occasions that the world had become a different place, he tried his best to make sure none of those things had been seen by the seven-year-old's eyes. David had never been face-to-face with those things himself, and spent a lot of time peering out from his blinds and watching the horror unfold, seeing the ghouls only from a distance.

Considering what he had seen on the news, away from Harry's eyes, of course, David expected the scenes in his street to be more horrific—not that he was complaining. Over the first days, when he fretted for the safety of his wife and daughter, he gazed out of the windows on a regular basis.

He saw people leaving their homes, whilst most stayed and barricaded, and there was one incident where a car had crashed into a contaminated being and hit a tree. The driver of the vehicle was unconscious and the crash had attracted some from afar. After ten minutes, the street was entertaining twenty-three of the dead—David had counted them—and they headed their way to the car, surrounded it, and forced the windows through. They ate the screaming man as he remained in his vehicle.

Since then, the street had been reasonably quiet, with the exception of the odd passing vehicle, and he thought that maybe it was because he wasn't as inquisitive as before. He only peered out of the window a couple of times a day, and wasn't as obsessed as he was when the outbreak was in its infancy.

Every minute of every day he thought about his two girls, but he had convinced his troubled mind that they were both alive, despite being unable to get through when the outbreak was first announced, and David was positive that it was only a matter of time before all four family members would be reunited. Jane was smart. She was definitely the brains of the family, and David was certain that she and their daughter were safe and hidden somewhere.

Like most days, this day had been laborious, and Harry began crying because he couldn't play his game console. David tried to explain that with the electricity unavailable, there were a lot of things they couldn't do, but not being able to play his Batman Lego game seemed more of a crisis for the seven-year-old than eating cold beans or macaroni cheese from a tin.

Because of the water system packing up, washing utensils wasn't done anymore, and the only water that remained in the house was in the bath downstairs, and even _that_ was becoming shallower as the days marched on.

The only positive about this whole dire situation was that it was August; it was the summer, which meant it only became dark between 11pm to 4am in the UK. David made sure little light spilled into the house, and always told Harry that he should never look out the windows himself, even if he hears a noise.

The mundane day was coming to a close and, although he could read a little bit himself, Harry accepted his daddy's offer of reading him a story.

Harry asked for three.

In the old world, when things were normal, David and his wife, Jane, would read to one of their children on alternative days. One night David would have to read to Harry, and the following night Harry would have his mum, whilst David read to his daughter.

When they were younger, the rule was: two stories and two songs. But as the years progressed, it had dwindled down to one story and then straight to sleep.

In the old world, David would get into work at around 6pm, his wife worked part-time at the hospital. After dinner, he would sit and watch children's programmes for half an hour with his kids, whilst Harry and his sister would argue throughout the show over the most trivial of things. Then it was bedtime at seven o'clock, or as his wife would call it, _Heaven o'clock_. Which meant, after their story, the rest of the evening could be spent with adult company, maybe a glass of red wine or two, peace and quiet, and watching programmes like Californication, Breaking Bad or Boardwalk Empire, rather than Scooby Doo, Rocket Monkeys or Phineas and Ferb.

David and Harry had finally decided on the three books that were going to be read. The Gruffalo and The Fish Who Could Wish were picked. The Very Hungry Caterpillar was also chosen, but Harry wanted to read that one himself, if he could.

Once the books had been read, both boys snuggled up to one another in the bed that David used to share with Jane. David stroked his son's head and kissed him on his earlobe.

"Daddy?" the tired little man spoke.

"What is it, sunshine?"

"Can Ryan stay over on Saturday?"

David sighed and said, "We've already been through this, son. No one can leave their homes for a while."

"But it's been ages."

"I know, squirt."

There was a silence that enveloped the pair of them. Both boys were snuggled up to one another. David was in his casual clothes; Harry was in his Batman pyjamas and another question was fired at David.

"Daddy?"

"Yep."

"I saw a couple of monsters the other day in the street. When are they going to go away?"

The question had completely stunned David. He thought he had done everything to protect his son from seeing those things, but Harry wasn't stupid. He knew something wasn't right, even before.

"I don't know," was all that David could muster with sadness in his words.

"When they're full?"

David smiled at his son's innocence, and didn't know whether to laugh. _When they're full? I wish it was that simple, son._

"Daddy?"

"Yes, sunshine."

"I miss mummy."

"So do I, son. So do I."

Harry then began squeezing and lightly pinching his dad's elbow. He had been doing this for as long as David could remember. He and Jane used to laugh about it and wondered if their son had an OCD condition, but they were convinced it was a comfort thing. The reason why they came up with this theory was that he only seemed to do it in nervous situations like the doctors, in a queue, or his first day at school. Both parents put it down as one of his quirks, and thought that it wasn't something serious enough to get him checked out at the GPs.

*

For Helen Davies, the last four weeks had been a blur. She had lost the will to live even before the power went. Her phone sat on the living room's side table and was never touched. It was on silent when the network was still working, but she never once looked at it.

During the first week, her estranged husband came to the door and began hammering it and shouting through the letterbox. She ignored him. She assumed it was the kids that he was concerned about, not her, and in a weird kind of way she had protected him.

If she had opened the door and allowed him to see that his one-year-old boy, Jack, was nothing but an unrecognisable bloody mess, and that the killer of Jack, his own daughter, had eaten most of him, he would have had a breakdown.

Jack's bedroom remained shut.

Since the day she had found that there was hardly anything left of him, she never went back to that scene and left the rest of his body to the flies that seemed to have appeared from nowhere.

In her own room, the room she used to share with her husband before he started banging the receptionist, her daughter was still there. There was a bolt on the outside of the bedroom door that Helen used to use to stop Carla from going in there and playing with her friends, but now she was using it to keep Carla in, although she was sure that opening doors wasn't these creatures' strong point anyway.

Like Jack, it had been a month since Helen had seen Carla, and in the first week she would press her ear to the door to hear what she was up to, but by the second week she never bothered.

She had spent days, like everyone else, watching TV reports to educate herself about the scale of the problem. When she finally put on SKY News, she learned why her daughter was the way she was. She thought back when Carla told her that she had been bitten by a boy whilst she was out riding her bike. She was then taken to bed.

It slowly began to make sense.

Her daughter had been contaminated and her son had been her first victim.

Helen slept downstairs on the couch. Her back was killing her, but she never moaned.

Her days consisted of lying on the couch, sometimes going for a walk around the house, and then returning to the couch. She had two bathrooms, one upstairs and downstairs, but she hadn't been to the toilet in over three days; she hadn't eaten anything substantial for her body to remove any wastage.

In the bathroom downstairs, there was a cupboard under the stairs where all kinds of crap were stored. Helen used to go for a weekly shop and would buy a lot of items in bulk because it was cheaper, especially toilet roll and toiletries that was still under the stairs in abundance. There were also tools and paint, amongst other useless bits and bobs.

The place was almost in darkness with every blind in the house down, but there was just enough light in to see where she was going. She took a stroll to the kitchen and, ignoring the pile of dishes in the sink, she reached for a dirty glass and went to the bathroom. She dipped the glass into the bath that she had filled in the first week—the media told everyone to fill up their baths and sinks—and took a gulp, moistening her dry throat.

Going back to the kitchen, she looked through her almost-bare cupboards. There wasn't a lot left. She had rationed her food wisely, but it was always going to run out eventually. The cupboard to her right still had half a packet of crackers, icing sugar, brown sugar and a packet of digestive biscuits. The fridge was defunct, and all dairy products and fruit were eaten in the first week. Two bottles of beer, a can of Red Bull, a mini peperami and a chocolate bar was all that remained in there. The cupboard to her left had accessories that were no good to her on her own. A lot of them were spices, as well as salt, pepper, grated cheese, cooking cubes and tomato puree. The carousel cupboard was a little more promising. She still had a tin of tuna to consume, as well as a tin of mackerel, a jar of peanut butter that hadn't been opened, two tins of beans and a tin of chopped tomatoes.

She took out the tomatoes and took out the manual tin opener. She was used to the electric one, but having no power had put a stop to that as well as many other things, although on odd occasions she would sometimes forget.

Once the tin opened, she put the sharp round lid on the side, took out a spoon and finished the tomatoes in minutes. She took another gander at the lid from the tin. It was sharp enough. Sharp enough to cut the skin, to cut through a vein.

She shook her head at herself. She hated thinking like this, but with nothing to do all day _but_ think about ending the miserable existence she had been given, it plagued her mind quite often. The world had gone to shit; her boy was dead, and her daughter had turned into one of the same kind of freaks that had passed by her house on a couple of occasions.

She never knew the situation outside in her street, because she refused to look out there. Her attic hatch was already open in case of a sudden invasion, but so far she had had a reasonably quiet existence.

She stared at the sharp lid again and wondered how long it would take if she slashed both wrists. It wouldn't be painful. She was _certain_ that it wouldn't be painful. It'd be like going to sleep, but never waking up again.

Something was stopping her from going through with it.

Her family were dead, yet there was still a part of her that wanted to live.

Why? What was the point? She had no answer.

She huffed and headed back to the living room, back to the couch. Another mundane and slow night was on the cards. She thought about her own demise once again.

Maybe I'll try another time.
Chapter Five

He was unable to set an alarm, but his body woke up at around 3am anyway, almost as if it was programmed to do so. He released a little yawn and then turned to his left to see the silhouette of his son lying next to him, lightly snoring.

It was a bed that David used to share with his wife, but that had changed since the crisis began over four weeks ago. David delicately stroked his son's hair and smiled. He sat up and swung his legs around, making the bed creak a little, then stood up straight, his knees cracking in unison. He took off his pyjama bottoms and put the same clothes he had on the day before.

Slipping his shoes on, he left the bedroom and took the claw hammer that always sat on his cupboard with him. He placed the hammer into his belt and made his way downstairs. He took a plastic cup from the kitchen, and walked to the bathroom to scoop a cup full of H2O from the depleted water in the bath.

He had a son to think of, but he also needed to keep alive himself. If anything happened to him, Harry would not cope on his own, and thinking about his son being alone, starving and dehydrated, always made David's eyes fill.

He then thought of a conversation he had with his son only three days ago.

Harry had asked, "Daddy, do you miss your friends?"

David responded by saying, "Yes, son. But I miss mummy and Sarah more."

Lost in thought, Harry then said, "I miss Callum the most."

"Of course you do," David said. "He's your best friend."

"No, he's not." Harry looked at his dad with red, heartbroken-eyes, tears welling at the bottom, ready to fall. " _You're_ my best friend."

David snapped out of his daydream and cleared his throat, trying to remove the swelling that was lodged in there. He crept back upstairs in the darkness, kissed his son on the head, and headed back to the ground floor of the house. He was now caught in two minds what to do. The thought of going onto the roof via the attic would have been the safer option, providing he didn't fall, but what if he did? What if he fell and broke his leg, or worse? The hospitals were now defunct, and living in the house, looking after his son with a broken bone and with hardly any painkillers was a nightmare he was keen to avoid.

He shook his head, as if he was arguing with himself, and preferred the other method: Out of the patio door, into the back garden, and over the fences to check the neighbour's doors.

Dressed in dark attire, he took an empty sports bag from his cupboard, clocking the folded-up massage table leaning against the back of the cupboard. A wry smile emerged on his face and this piece of equipment that Jane had bought from ebay for £20, had released a handful of memories that were hard to shake off.

Jane loved her massages and made David watch a youtube video to learn how to perform a Swedish one. David, being a man, agreed to be the masseuse as he thought it could benefit the both of them: Jane would get her massage, whilst, in return, he would get some kind of sexual reward. Sometimes he would get his reward, and other times Jane would fall asleep.

He walked into the living room and slowly pulled up the roller blind of the patio door that faced onto the back garden. Enveloped in darkness, David's shaking hands went for the latch to unlock the door, and slid it open. He took one step forwards into the outside; he slid the door shut, and then locked it.

He looked up to the dark bruised sky, the stars hanging like nails in the night, and took a look to his left, and then to his right. To his left were his neighbours, Robert and Dixie; they had two girls, Lisa and Jody, and David thought it'd be better to check on them before going to his elderly neighbours on the right.

David took a look at the six-foot fence and raised a smile.

Five years ago, David and Jane had decided to buy a black Labrador. They called it Bouncer, and for the first few nights the eight-week-old puppy couldn't settle and spent hours crying and yelping. The next morning Robert went round to the house to complain about the noise, conveniently when David was at work, and gave Jane a dressing down.

Unfortunately for the man, Jane retaliated and reminded him of the noise they had made when they first moved in.

When Sarah was born, David's paternity leave was ruined by constant drilling and hammering whilst the workers were putting in central heating and new floors down for the newly-moved couple, Robert and Dixie. Jane reminded him of this, and told him that if he didn't like the noise then he should move. He left their premises with his tail firmly between his legs. Then the next weekend, the man decided to put up the six-foot fence with stolen wood panels that he had taken from the construction company that he worked for.

David puffed out his chest, the guilt plaguing him for leaving Harry in the house alone, and began to leave his premises.
Chapter Six

Taking the door key with him, David had stepped out into his back garden for the first time in over four weeks, his empty bag hanging off his shoulder. He wanted to go the attic way, over the roof, but decided to go through his patio door that led out into his back garden. It was less dangerous that way. Going out the front door, that faced the street, would have been sheer stupidity. If any of those things saw him leave or return back to the house, it could cause one of the dead to walk over, attracting many more.

Having his house surrounded was not in his plans.

He was close to exiting his back garden. All he needed to do now was to climb the six-foot fence and try the back door of his neighbour's house.

He looked at the other houses and wondered what was happening in those places. Were people still in there, barricaded in? Had some left? Were some dead?

He had spent the last month or so glaring out the front and back gardens, and knew that there hadn't been a single ghoul spotted in any of them, and he put this down to the gates that the neighbours had. On David's own property he had an alleyway that ran alongside his house, and there was a gate at the end of the alleyway that led into the back garden.

He knew that a horde of these things, walking down the alleyway, would have no bother breaking through the four-foot gate, but David hadn't given them any reason to walk onto his premises. He had kept quiet throughout the ordeal, and was adamant that it was going to stay that way.

With the bag over his shoulder, and feeling the left part of his belt to make sure the claw hammer was still present, he ran at the fence and had managed to climb and land in the neighbour's garden reasonably easy.

Once he had landed in the pitch-black garden, he realised that the neighbours would allow their dog, Millie, to shit all over the lawn and it wasn't _always_ cleaned up. Although this was the last thing he should have been worried about, he suddenly stepped off the lawn, onto the patio area, paranoid he was about to step in Pug shit.

He took a glance upwards and to his left, up at his own room, where Harry was sleeping. He felt terrible leaving him alone, but felt he had to do this to stretch out their survival.

David approached his neighbour's back door and hoped that when he knocked, Robert, the owner of the house, would appear. If they worked together, they'd be able to survive as a team, but David also couldn't stop thinking about the water canisters in the gym. Maybe he and Robert could go there together and get the water.

He took another look at the house in the darkness. He knew his neighbours hadn't fled, as their jeep had not moved since the outbreak. He hadn't seen the family at all, because as soon as the announcement was made on the TV, practically the whole street had shut itself off from everybody else; every window was closed and curtains drawn, and every door was blocked off. And when the sight of the first few ghouls appeared, that was when David was certain that fear was going to keep most people in their houses.

David thought about the people from four weeks ago that had already been attacked before anyone knew what the hell was going on. He thought of the scenario of one man being bitten and running home, then becoming unwell, and then turning on his family. This meant that there could be three or four trapped ghouls, just waiting to get out. And how many houses had this scenario in his street alone?

Unsure what to do next, he tried the back door. As he suspected, it was locked. He then started to knock the door gently. He had already decided that if Robert came to the door, he would ask—no, he would _beg_ him for something edible for Harry which would keep him going for another day, but he knew that there was a chance that his begging could be shunned.

Robert had two girls and his wife to feed. Why would he give a neighbour food to eat and allow his own girls to starve? David contemplated on breaking in, but understood that it would be a desperate act if he did break in. This kind of action would be selfish to the family that were probably hiding on their first floor or in their attic.

He placed his face against the glass of the door and peered in.

Like him, they had decided not to barricade the main doors. They had probably come to the same conclusion as David: If the dead can get in through thick glass and a solid door, a couple of tables and cupboards were hardly going to keep them at bay.

He saw a small, dark lump in the corner of the kitchen and couldn't make it out. He stared longer and said, "Surely not." It looked like the carcass of a small animal. _Millie?_

His heart then began hitting his chest; he gasped, and saw the silhouette of a child walking into the kitchen. Tears immediately left his eyes and he placed his hand over his mouth to quash his sobbing. He wanted to move away, but his eyes were magnetically attracted to the macabre scene that was unfolding.

He took a step back and crouched down.

The little girl stumbled towards the door and placed her face against it, only inches away from David's body. It was Jody, Harry's friend and schoolmate.

Although it was a dusky, early morning, he could see that she had turned, and the blood down her T-shirt suggested that she had fed, on a family member perhaps. Maybe Millie?

Suddenly, David's stomach had decided to empty what little contents it had left, and he threw up at the side of the house.

Once he had managed to compose himself, little Jody then made David jump when the palm of her hands slammed against the glass of the door; she was aching to get out.

Paranoid that she could break through the glass, he had decided to go back. He had stopped in his tracks once he heard a window open and a voice coming from above him. It was coming from the skylight. It was Dixie, the next-door neighbour.

"David," she cried.

David looked up. "Dixie? What's happening? You okay?"

She shook her head.

"Where's Robert?"

"It's that virus thing," she sobbed. "Robert had come back from the shops and had been bitten by someone. He drove back and fell asleep on the couch. I knew there was something wrong, so I rung the emergency services, but they were constantly engaged. Then he attacked Jody and I left him in the living room and all three of us went upstairs. I watched the news on the kids' television. Jody then fell asleep, and I realised I had lost my little girl. Me and Lisa picked her up and put her on the landing."

"I've just seen her in the kitchen."

"She must have tumbled down the stairs to the ground floor once she became..." She couldn't finish her sentence.

"What about food?"

She shook her head, still in tears. "We moved everything up weeks ago, once we locked ... Robert, that thing, in the living room. He's managed to get out though, as we can hear him walking about and ... moaning. We haven't eaten for three days. We haven't drank, and we've been going to the toilet in the corner of the room. Can you get us out? Can we come to yours?"

"Of course," was David's response, but he had no idea how to move them without being in contact with her now defunct husband and younger daughter. If he could get them out, David thought that his plan to get more food would have to take place very soon. It appeared that his visit to next door had now backfired a little. If Dixie and her other daughter went to his house, he would now have four mouths to feed.

"So there's no food at all in your house?" asked David.

She shook her head, sadly.

"Is Lisa okay?"

She nodded. "She's just here."

David placed his hands on his hips and released a breath out, lost in thought. "Is there any way you can get out your front door?"

She cried, a little too loudly for David's liking, "I don't know where Robert or Jody could be lurking about. We're too frightened anyway; Lisa's refusing to leave."

"Jody's right here." David pointed at the door; the little ghoul still had its white face pressed up against the glass. "Okay. I'll try and get to you through the attic—"

"But Lisa won't leave the room—"

"She's gonna have to. I need to go, I've left Harry on his own."

"His own?" she quizzed. "Where's Jane?"

"The shops."

"The shops?"

"About a month ago. She went with Sarah. Haven't heard from them since."

She sobbed, "Oh god, David. I'm so sorry."

Going back to the original subject, David said, "Look. I'll come to the attic at 8am, when it's daylight, so it's safer. I'll come across my roof to get the both of you."

It was all David could think of. He briefly contemplated breaking through the ground floor, but if he somehow got bitten by Robert or Jody, Harry would be left all alone, and that was not going to happen. His son was his number one priority—his _only_ priority, and he was sure that he would eventually be reunited with Jane and Sarah.

"I'll see you in a few hours." David got ready to leave. "I'm going to check on Sandra and Harold. Hopefully they can give me some food for Harry."

"Okay," Dixie whispered. "Try and get as much as you can."

David looked up at the brown-haired, rotund woman. "I'll see you soon."

As Dixie shut the bedroom window, David jumped back over the fence and landed in his own garden. His neighbours on the other side, Sandra and Harold, were next.
Chapter Seven

He looked at his Citizen watch and could see the illuminated face telling him he had been outside for ten minutes. He promised himself that he wouldn't leave his boy alone for more than half an hour.

Easily getting over the four-foot wooden fence, he entered Sandra and Harold's garden and went for the side door. Unlike his and his other neighbours, Sandra and Harold only had a side door to the house, and the trouble with the side door was that a person could be seen from the main street if an individual was to walk by.

Sandra and Harold were the kind of neighbours that David never spoke to, but Jane _would_ , just to be sociable. Jane and Sandra's relationship had soured somewhat when they had the black Labrador, Bouncer. Sandra was infatuated with the puppy, and if the dog was left on its own outside for a brief while, Sandra would sneak out of her house with a packet of custard creams and feed them to the dog. The custard creams made the dog sick, and although she had been politely warned not to feed the dog with anything, as it was David and Jane that had to clear up the vomit afterwards, she never adhered to their polite request.

After eight months the Johnsons couldn't cope with the dog's chewing, demands, and also looking after two kids, so it was sold. David had told Sandra jokingly that it had been sold to a nice Korean family, and after purchasing a cat two months later, they already had a male cat called Beckham, David told Jane: no more pets. The kitten was named Azrael, and lasted a month in the house before it was given to Robert and Dixie, as she had infested Harry's bedroom with fleas, and poor Harry had flea bites on his back for weeks before the room was fumigated by Rentokill.

Paranoid that he would be spotted by one of those things, although the street looked barren, David approached the side door and knocked it.

There was no answer after the third knock, so David went round the back again, picked up some gravel and threw it at the bedroom window.

Nothing.

He tried again; but there was still no response.

He was in a quandary now. He had twenty minutes left before going back to Harry. He looked at the house and cursed himself for being such a coward. He peered over at his bedroom window, where his son was sound asleep, and shook his head.

Pretty soon, you and your son are going to be starving, and you're hesitating to go in the house. Seriously?

It would have been better and safer to do this through the day, but Harry would become hysterical and wouldn't leave his daddy's side.

Maybe I could go during the day and put Harry on the shed roof while I go in.

David shook his head at himself. _For fuck's sake, David, man-up! Just go in!_

Clutching his hammer, he looked at his watch. He had been out of his house for twelve minutes.

He went back to the side door and opened their letterbox and said, "Sandra, it's David from next door. I'm seeing if you're okay, but more importantly, I was wondering if you have any food, biscuits, crisps ... anything to keep Harry going for a few more days or so." He waited impatiently for a few seconds, and with a little irritation inside of him because of the lack of response, he added, "Come down in two minutes, or _I'm_ coming in."

He knew that sentence would put the fear of God into _anyone_. Threatening to break into somebody's house whilst the ZA was occurring would entice anyone from their hiding place, even a couple in their sixties like Sandra and Harold.

But what if they're asleep? He thought.

_Who's had a decent night's sleep since this shit began to happen? Not many._ David mentally argued with himself. _If they're in, they're awake, which means they can hear me._

"One more minute," David called up in a loud enough whisper, "and I'm smashing the window in."

There were frosted glass panels on the front door, and David knew it'd be a simple matter of smashing the panel with his elbow or hammer, then putting his arm in, and opening the door from the inside.

He could never understand why people would have this type of door; it was a burglar's paradise. With the electricity away, he had no reason to fear the burglar alarm that had been fitted months ago. He did hesitate, however, because if it did go off for whatever reason, it'd be like ringing the dinner bell for the dead. They would be swarming around the area within minutes, which would put his own house, and more importantly, Harry, under threat.

Swallowing his hesitancy, he took a peep around the parts of his street that he could see and smashed the glass panel through with the claw hammer. He felt through the panel and unlocked the door and took the chain off. The door swung open, and he never hesitated to go inside. As soon as he shut the door behind him, he began to shake.

He looked at his watch, the face illuminated green; he had ten minutes.

The house was predictably covered in darkness, but wasn't too hard to get around as the layout was similar to his own. He went into the living room.

Nothing.

It was clear and tidy as if the owners had had a clean up, unless it was always like that. He then went into the kitchen and could just about see that there were no dishes lying around, not even a plate or a teaspoon could be seen. The ground floor was immaculate, and now David Johnson hesitantly climbed the stairs, taking a few seconds to go up each step.

When he finally reached the landing, he blew out a long breath as if he had been holding his breath all the way up the stairs. There appeared to be three doors, all closed, and he guessed that two were bedrooms and the other was a bathroom.

He walked up to the door that was closest to him and placed his ear against it.

He could hear nothing.

He took hold of the handle with his left hand, gripping the hammer with his right, and pushed it open. It revealed what he suspected: An empty bathroom.

He checked the door on the left, a bedroom, and did the same routine. The results were also the same.

One door left.

When the final door was opened, he was greeted by two lumps under a duvet. The smell was rancid, and he could feel himself retching. He pulled up the front of his T-shirt and put it over his nose and mouth. He walked nearer towards the bed and could see the silhouettes of two bodies.

He guessed that the first was Sandra, and Harold was the furthest away. The glass of water, sitting by the side-table, suggested that they had both taken some kind of overdose. They were lying on their backs, holding hands.

It was a sad sight, but David thought that maybe that they had done the right thing. What was the point living in this new world at that age? In fact, what kind of world was it going to be for David and Harry, and hopefully Jane and Sarah, in the future?

Although not a believer, David said a silent prayer for the couple, and went downstairs to see what they had to offer in their cupboards.

He began to fill his bag.
Chapter Eight

He returned to the house in the time that he had set for himself, and with also a bag of tins and two litre bottles of lemonade. He felt for Sandra and Harold, but breaking into the house had given him and his son a bit of time.

He then thought about Dixie and Lisa.

Poor bastards. To have a husband and your youngest daughter to become one of them and dwelling on the ground floor must have been scary, as well as heartbreaking.

As soon as he entered his house and locked the patio door behind him, he pulled the roller blind down to the floor. He then went upstairs with the bag, and dropped it in his room. He took his shoes off and lay next to Harry.

The little boy was snoring gently and David gave off a smile.

In the old days, Harry being in David and Jane's bed usually meant that David would have to go and sleep in his son's room. This usually happened if David was kept awake by Jane's snoring. She had problems with her sinuses and she used to drive him nuts.

Once or twice a week she would wake up to find Harry in her bed, whilst David slept in Harry's. Then, when it was time to get up, Jane would ask, as David returned to the room, "Was I snoring again?" And David would always answer, "Like a hog with asthma."

Although very early in the morning, it was almost daylight outside, on this day in August, and despite the curtains being closed, the bedroom was reasonably lit. David stared with a daft grin on his face, and watched as his son slept. Harry's lips were pouting, as they normally did when he was sleeping; his freckles on his nose and the side of his cheeks added to his cuteness, as if they had been sprinkled on. His seven-year-old's eyebrows were light, unlike his dad's, and his bloated cheeks were good enough to munch on, David would always say.

David used the back of his forefinger to stroke Harry's nearest cheek. He was so lucky to have him. It could have been a whole different story if it wasn't for medical science, but he also did wonder, with the world they were living in now, that maybe _not_ having Harry or Sarah would have been for the best.

Eight years back, after years of trying for a baby, David and Jane finally went to the hospital to see why they couldn't conceive. After months of injections of Clomid to increase Jane's eggs—the more eggs, the more chance of getting pregnant—the doctors put the couple through the IUI programme, artificial insemination, and were told that they had four tries at this.

The Clomid injections had to be done at home, and David offered to inject Jane—he always said that it was the least he could do, considering what Jane was putting her body through—and the first time they needed to do it was a nerve-wracking experience. Jane wanted to be injected in her buttock, as she felt that that was probably the softest and best place for a needle to go, but she was fearful that David would hit her sciatic nerve. Once the pair of them had built up the courage to go ahead with it, Jane was bent over the bed, whilst David stood behind her with the needle shaking in his right hand. He was like Travolta in _Pulp Fiction_ , hesitating to insert the needle into Uma Thurman, but it had been done ... finally.

Unfortunately, it turned out to be a waste of time.

After four unsuccessful IUI sessions over a six-month period, the distraught couple were then put on the IVF programme where they had two chances. The protocol was that David would go into a room and produce a sperm sample; then the sample would be 'cleaned' and inserted into Jane. Tests would take place; then a week or so later, Jane would have to ring the department after 1pm to be told the good or bad news.

The first time was bad news and Jane didn't take it well at all, and neither did David. Tears were shed, and the talk of adoption was already being discussed, despite that the second attempt hadn't occurred yet. They had already given up.

After the second attempt, David told Jane, that whether it was good or bad news, not to ring him at work, because he didn't want to be on a high or be upset at the workplace for the rest of the afternoon.

After 1pm, David did nothing but clock-watch at work, and the minutes were like hours. As soon as he finished work and caught the bus home, he did nothing but think the worst. Once he got off the bus and walked across his road to get to his house, showered in negativity, David kept on saying under his breath over and over again, "It's not the end of the world."

Once he got into the house, he popped his head into the living room to see Jane sitting on the couch, crying.

David was almost heartbroken and was convinced it hadn't worked and said to Jane, "Never mind."

With tears running down her face, Jane shrieked, "We're pregnant."

Jane was pregnant again, seven months after Harry was born, and it still baffled David that they had tried for years for Harry, and then suddenly after Harry was born, they conceived naturally. How did that happen?

Snapping out of his daydream of yesteryear, David could feel his eyes getting tired, and the adrenaline was starting to wane. He thought of the grisly image of Jody from next door, and a dead Sandra and Harold on the other side of his house.

It didn't seem real. He couldn't really take everything in that was happening, as if he had been in shock for the last four weeks.

David leaned over to his boy and gave him a gentle kiss on his forehead, then ran his fingers through his hair. "My beautiful, beautiful boy."
Chapter Nine

"Dad!"

As soon as that word was called out, David shot out of bed and ran across the landing. He knew exactly where the voice was coming from; it was from the upstairs bathroom. David approached the door and gave it a gentle knock. "You okay, sunshine?"

"No," Harry whined.

"Can I come in?"

"Yes."

David opened the door and stepped into the bathroom. He called it a bathroom, but the real bathroom was downstairs. The upstairs toilet area had a sink and a shower cubicle, no bath. Harry was trying to have a poo in one of the carrier bags that David had left out. The toilet wouldn't flush anymore so they just peed in it—even though the smell was rank, and would use a carrier bag to do their business once a day, then David would sneak outside to put it into one of the four bins in his front garden.

They had a purple bin for glass, a blue bin for cardboard, a brown bin for garden waste, and a green bin for everything else, but their shit went into any bin.

There were tears from Harry's beautiful green eyes, and he cried, "Daddy, it's stuck again."

"I've told you," David said with exasperation in his voice. "You need to drink more water."

"But I can't drink that water out of the bath, daddy. It tastes funny."

Harry was right; it _did_ taste funny, but it was all they had. It was hard for a seven-year-old to comprehend that everything that he had taken for granted like electricity, water, etc., was now hard to come by. What David needed was plenty of food and water, an endless supply of medical gear, and a diesel generator to bring some power back to the house.

It was just a pipe dream; what he and Harry really needed was to be in a quarantined area, an army barrack, or on a farm somewhere. They were still alive, and he should be thankful for that, but David was thinking of the long term, and it didn't look promising. At least for the first few weeks when it was happening there was still power, and the TV was still there to give information and entertain Harry and keep his mind away from the absence of his little sister and mum. But since the power had gone, life had become a little mundane and the hours dragged.

Once the stinky situation had been taken care of, Harry asked if he could play outside.

"No, son." David shook his head. "Remember what I said?"

Harry never answered and went off in his room to play. David walked in to see him playing on the blue carpet. His blinds and red curtains were still shut and David laughed to himself, looking in his son's room.

He and Jane always thought they had too much stuff. Harry had an endless amount of toys. On the right side of his blue-painted walls were his Phineas and Ferb figures. His Batman Lego quilt hadn't been changed since the outbreak, but David didn't see the point if he was sleeping with him anyway, and his DS games remained as ornaments, now that he couldn't charge the console. Harry had a red basket in his room full of cuddly toys, which included, a Minion, Mike and Sully, as well as many others.

David patted his son on the head and left him to it.

He walked into Sarah's room and it was also a mess.

Sometimes Harry would play in her room for a change, and David allowed this. He didn't want to keep the room as some kind of shrine, because a shrine was for the dead, and he still strongly believed that Jane and Sarah were still safe ... somewhere.

Sarah's room was a typical girly room for a five-year-old. She had two clothes cupboards, one more than Harry, numerous plastic babies and prams, a massive doll's house she hardly played with, and a red basket full of cuddly toys like, Mickey Mouse, Minnie Mouse, Daisy Duck and Pluto. Fighting back the tears, he sadly looked over at the pink Hello Kitty bedspread that hadn't been slept in for weeks.

David then walked over to the window to gape outside.

He could see two of the things shambling in the middle of the road, and that was it. It was the most action he had seen since the first week. He looked down at his drive and saw his Mazda, the car still on bricks. When he had taken off the wheels, he rolled them into the reception area of the house. The wheels remained sitting on top of one another, and the can of gas sat under the stairs.

He didn't need the car to be mobile yet, and was dreading the time when he would have to go back outside, be exposed, and put on the four wheels and re-fill the gas tank. Before, David was certain that eventually he would have to start using the car during the night, whilst Harry was sleeping, to get supplies from shops, petrol stations or abandoned houses, to bring back to the house. But once Dixie was in his house, he would have a babysitter for Harry and could now go out during the day.

After four weeks, he was certain that some help should have occurred, but he had finally come to the conclusion that everyone had to fend for themselves.

David took a look at Sarah's blackboard in the corner of her room. On the blackboard, in white chalk, was a set of house rules that David had written after the first week. Although Harry struggled with some of the words initially, David had gone through it with his seven-year-old, and the little man could almost remember it by rote, because of the amount of times he had read it.

David sighed and shook his head. What kind of life was this for a little boy? He looked at his watch. It was time to go and see Dixie and young Lisa from next door, but what was he going to say to Harry? He needed to leave the house, but make sure he didn't realise that his dad was away.

David walked into his son's bedroom and peered in. "I'm going to the toilet, son."

"Okay, daddy," he spoke without looking up.

"Don't leave this room."

"Okay."

David went into Sarah's room. The hatch for the attic was in his daughter's bedroom, and he grabbed the metal pole to unlock the hatch. The hatch swung open and he pulled down the ladders. He took a look to his right, staring at Harry's room, feeling guilty for leaving him for a second time. He had promised Dixie and Lisa he would get them out of the house that had two of those things, her own husband and youngest daughter, and couldn't back down now. His conscience wouldn't allow it.
Chapter Ten

David climbed up the ladders, the hammer in his belt, and was now in his attic.

Like any other attic, it was used for storage and contained old toys belonging to the kids. It also had clothes, spare quilts for whenever they had guests staying, and there was an old trunk that contained old photographs and certificates.

He opened the high window that led out onto the roof, and climbed up with a bit of a struggle. It had been a while since David had been to the gym, and even when he did go, pull-ups weren't his favourite back exercise.

He felt anxious when standing up on his roof, this was a first for him, and made the short climb to the spine of his roof. He placed his feet either side of the spine, for better balance, and began the slow walk to the next skylight.

Once he had reached his destination, he crouched down and apprehensively peeked through the glass. As instructed, Dixie and Lisa had made it into their attic. David was sure that they weren't going to have problems anyway, as it was stated on TV that these things were not big fans of any kind of climbing, especially stairs.

David could not remember from the TV if the climbing theory was because it was a motor skill they couldn't remember, or it was the muscle wasting away that prevented them from doing this.

He gently tapped the glass with his middle knuckle and both Dixie and Lisa tearfully looked up; Dixie was the only one producing a smile when David revealed his full face.

She reached up and opened the skylight. Trying to ignore the smell of human waste from the corner of the room, David asked if they were both okay, but he could clearly see, especially from Lisa's face, that they were _far_ from okay.

"Any problems?" asked David.

Dixie shook her head. David took pity on them both. They were mother and daughter, and looked exactly like one another. Their hair was cut into a bob, and the grease in their locks almost made their hair look black.

Dixie produced a bag and handed it to David. David looked perplexed. "Just clothes and stuff," Dixie explained. "We haven't eaten in days."

"How did you get food in the first place, with _them_ downstairs?"

"Didn't I already tell you?" She huffed, "We already emptied the cupboard when the outbreak was first announced. Robert got bitten when he went to the shops, came back here and collapsed, and then he attacked Jody once he ... er ... woke up." She then started crying.

"Wow," said David. "That must have been difficult."

"Are you sure about this?" Dixie asked, not responding to his comment. "We don't want to be a burden."

"We don't have much food ourselves, but we still have water in the bath. And the company of Lisa would be good for Harry." David lowered his head sadly. "He asks for Jody all the time."

Lisa spoke at last, "Daddy and Jody have turned into monsters."

"They're just sick," Dixie tried to correct her daughter.

He lifted nine-year-old Lisa up, and she was a lot heavier than she looked. He then turned to Dixie and knew this was going to be a struggle. Thanks to two stints at childbirth, she was a little rotund than the average woman, but she piled boxes on top of one another to make the climb easier. It worked.

Once all three were on the roof, David asked them to do whatever he said and follow his lead. He went back to his skylight the same way, across the spine of the roof, and reached his already-opened skylight and helped the girls in.

"Wait until Harry sees you," David said to Lisa, feigning excitement.

Once they were all in, they made their way to the first floor of his house and David was relieved that Harry was still playing in his room. Lisa looked around the very pink bedroom and asked, "Where's Sarah? Is she one of _them_?"

"Lisa!" Dixie scolded her eldest daughter. "Don't be so rude."

"That's okay." David seemed unruffled by the girl's comment, and looked at Lisa. "As I've already told your mum, Jane and Sarah went out shopping. They're hiding somewhere." David was blatantly lying; it was more hope than anything.

"Lisa!" Harry squealed with excitement once he entered the room, not even asking his dad how the two females had got into the house. "Where's Jody?"

David looked at Dixie and told Harry, "Jody won't be coming. She's with her daddy."

Unbothered by this remark, Harry grabbed Lisa by the hand and asked her if she wanted to play Batman with him. She clearly didn't, and reluctantly went with him. She would rather listen to music and dance.

Harry had had a little crush on Lisa for a year or so. Whenever David walked Harry and Sarah to school, David would tease, "Look, there's Lisa by the school gates. Maybe she's waiting for _you_. Shall we say hello?"

Harry would always refuse to greet his neighbour, and kept his head down. He told his dad that whenever he spoke to Lisa, it made his face go red. But he didn't seem so shy on this day, and that was probably because he had been starved of young company for weeks.

David turned around and saw Dixie peering from the blinds in Sarah's room. David called over, "You okay?"

Dixie shook her head and beckoned him over whilst Lisa and Harry played in his room. She pointed outside. "Isn't that Jim, from four-doors down?"

David peered out and could see a solitary being, aimlessly stumbling around the street, blood covering his T-shirt and his chin. He had definitely turned, but there was no explanation why this had happened.

David moved away from the blinds and gently pulled Dixie away. "Sandra and Harold are dead as well," said David.

"No," Dixie gasped.

"They had killed themselves."

Dixie became lost in thought.

"Let's get you guys some water," David said, and then turned to Dixie. "I need to talk to you about something."

*

Helen Davies had slept for two hours on the couch before she woke up with a scare. She welcomed the interruption of the dream, as it involved her stuck in Jack's bedroom, his mutilated body still in a pile in the cot, whilst her daughter had somehow escaped and was trying to get in.

She looked at her Tissot wristwatch and saw that it was still morning. Not that time had a large significance anymore, but it did tell Helen how much daylight there was left during the day.

She went over to the large roller blind and pulled it up by a foot. Behind the blind was her patio door that led out into the back garden. She wondered where the noise was coming from, the noise that had woken her up, and she lay on the floor to have a peek outside. She saw one pair of feet stumbling around the garden. Maybe the gate was left open.

She had two options: She could go outside and kill the thing—What did they say on the TV all those weeks ago? Destroy the brain? Or, she could ignore the situation and hope that it was gone by the next morning. Of course, the other scenario of ignoring this minor intrusion was that a group of them could be loitering in the back garden by the end of the week. She was in a quandary, and she had no idea what was the right decision to make.

She got off the floor and decided that it was time to get her arse in gear.

In a daze, she walked into the kitchen and pulled out a black bin liner from the cupboard under the sink. She sniffed her T-shirt that she had had on for weeks, and decided that it was time to clear up, but in order to do that she needed to get into her bedroom where a reanimated Carla still remained.

She trudged upstairs, with the black bag in her hand, marigolds in her pocket, and made it to the landing. She stood and stared at the closed bedroom entrance that Jack used to sleep in, and took a stroll forwards to his door.

The first thing that she noticed was the smell. It was an awful, fish-like smell, like rotten meat. She was certain that it was a smell that she would never forget.

Aware that the stench would be a thousand times worse once the door was opened, she put her marigolds on, she took a deep breath in, her eyes still staring into nothingness, and pushed it open.

Ignoring the winged pests, she peered over into the cot, staring at the maggot-infested remains, and pulled out the black bin liner and began putting the 'leftovers' into it, starting with Jack's decapitated head.

She tied the bag in a knot and casually walked out of the room, ignoring the smell, ignoring the insects buzzing around her face, and ignoring the fact that she was carrying her one-year-old son's remains. She shut the door behind her and went downstairs. She went into the kitchen and placed the bag on the floor, near the pedal bin, and took off the gloves. She turned and looked at the set of knives that were on display to the left of the defunct fridge, and picked out a steak knife.

Gripping the knife in her right hand, she headed back upstairs and went for her bedroom door.

With no hesitation, she unbolted and opened the door to see Carla sitting on the floor in the corner; her back was to her mother. Helen ran her fingers through her brown greasy hair and walked into the room for the first time in a month, making little noise, and stood over her daughter. She brought the knife over her head, holding it with two hands like she was going to perform some kind of sacrifice, and by the time the contaminated Carla turned her head and snarled, realising there was something behind her, the knife was brought down and embedded itself into the top of her skull.

The body of Carla fell to the side, and showing little emotion on her face, Helen Davies bent down and took out the knife, wiped it on Carla's nightdress, and then placed it into her pocket. She then bent over and scooped up Carla in her arms, and headed for downstairs.
Chapter Eleven

The last hour had been a stressful one, but at least they had put a little food in their bellies, thanks to Sandra and Harold. David had told Dixie about his idea about raiding the gym. She seemed concerned, but knew the positive outcome could be more weeks of survival, and who knows after that? Maybe there would be some government control by then.

Wishful thinking.

The outside, as normal, had been reasonably quiet—a far cry from what it was like during the first few days of the outbreak. The noises of screams, sirens, car alarms and shouting was something of the norm in the first week, but now it had quietened down after over a month.

Lisa and Harry were in Sarah's room, playing with her dolls. David went up to check on them and saw that the rules on the blackboard for Harry had been rubbed out, and Lisa was trying to teach Harry to play _Hangman_ on the blackboard, but Harry was clearly not getting it, and Lisa was becoming increasingly impatient with the seven-year-old.

David went back downstairs and could see Dixie sitting on the sofa, staring into oblivion. It was nearly 9am and David cleared his throat, which helped Dixie to snap out of her self-hypnosis.

He announced, "It seems clear outside, so I'm going to put the wheels on the car in a minute, then fill the tank."

She nodded and asked, "Are you sure about this?"

"Not really," David guffawed falsely. "The only noise I'll make is when I start the engine, but I'll soon be gone. I don't want to do it, but Harry is my priority."

"Why don't you raid some houses?"

David shook his head. "I've already thought of that. I don't know if the houses are empty until I go in, and if they're not, then I could be greeted by either irate neighbours, or those freaks. And anyway, after a month, how many of the houses will have a decent amount of food left inside them? Sandra and Harold had food only because they had killed themselves early. It's too risky."

"I suppose. But how do you know if the gym hasn't been raided already?"

"I don't. Just gonna try it, and maybe a few of the shops on the way back. I have no idea what it's like outside this street; it could be quiet or it could be heaving with those things. At least now, with you here, I can leave without leaving Harry on his own."

"Just be careful."

David nodded and began setting the car up. Dixie nervously watched from the living room as David began putting on the tyres and refilling it back up with the petrol he had siphoned from his vehicle weeks earlier. She looked out into the street and saw that there wasn't a soul around. David walked back into the house and Dixie asked if there was anything wrong.

"Just wanted to kiss Harry..." David then paused and cleared his throat. "Just in case."

Dixie stood up and gave David a hug. "You'll be fine. It might even be clear. But if it's not, don't be a hero."

David nodded in agreement. "I won't. If it's really bad, I'll come back and we'll think of something else."

Dixie kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks for everything. You didn't have to come round. Everyone else in the neighbourhood has kept a low profile."

"Maybe there's a good reason for that." David thought of what had happened to Sandra and Harold. Incidents like that could have happened in many more households in their area.

He ran upstairs to see his boy playing with Lisa. He walked over to the little man that was sitting on the floor in his sister's room, watching Lisa writing on the blackboard, and leaned over to kiss him on the head. Harry never flinched. He remained sitting on the rug, watching Lisa, with his cheeks flushed red.

David took one more look outside, grabbed a knife and the claw hammer from the upstairs cupboard, went downstairs and asked Dixie to lock the door behind him.

He went out the front door, quickly jumped into his Mazda and shut the driver's door. He looked into the rear-view mirror and then craned his neck to look out the back himself, to get a better view. It seemed clear.

Not wanting to attract unnecessary attention towards his house, the plan was to start the engine and reverse almost immediately out of the drive and flee the street. The last thing he or the rest of the people in the house needed was for a car to be sitting with its engine running.

He held out his hands on the steering wheel and couldn't stop them from shaking. What he was doing was for the benefit of his son and now the survival of others, but he was struggling with his nerves, and this angered him. He took a deep breath out and fired the engine, slipped it into reverse, and the car shot backwards out of the drive.

Once the vehicle reached the end of his street, heading towards the main road, he stopped at the junction, made some observations, and then pulled the car forwards. He was now exiting his street, and entering an area he hadn't been to in over a month. As soon as he progressed a further five hundred yards, he came across a roundabout and immediately saw two cars that appeared to be abandoned. He had no understanding why this had happened, and continued with the short drive and could now see a dead body lying on the path to the right of him.

Ignoring the body, he could also see ahead, in the distance, four of those freaks. He floored the pedal, trying to swerve around them. He tried not to look at their faces, but their macabre appearance was hard to miss.

A minute later, he was at the gym.
Chapter Twelve

"Would have been better with a crowbar," David reprimanded himself as he sat in his car.

The street he was in was peaceful; he took a look at the metal fence that didn't look too hard to climb, and he stepped out of the car with his empty sports bag.

The gym was away from the neighbourhood, and David approached the area and tossed his knife and hammer through the railings of the metal fence, threw his bag over, and climbed it with ease.

Once David landed on the grass, within the grounds, he picked his 'weapons' up and walked towards the main door. It wasn't the biggest gym in the world, but it used to be David's regular place when he could be bothered to go.

David tried the door. It never budged, which pleased him. It appeared that nobody had tried to break into the gym. He had no idea why this was the case, and even thought that the people who worked there, who probably had keys, would have at least went there for some kind of safe refuge.

Maybe they were dead.

Or...

He brought out his hammer, and with no hesitation at all, he smashed the panel of glass. He removed any shards sticking out before climbing in, then began to scowl through the dark area and knew exactly where he needed to go.

There were two vending machines in the reception area, full of protein drinks, protein bars, crisps, chocolate, and other sports drinks. He realised that with no power the products weren't cool anymore, but he was certain that they were still edible.

He smashed both machines open and stuffed his face with crisps, a protein bar, and a Lucozade drink. He then began filling his bag and left it against a wall. The gym was at the side, ten yards away, and there was a cupboard where they kept the water inside the gym. That was his destination.

He began walking down the dark corridor, despite it being early morning, towards the entrance of the gym, and suddenly stopped in his tracks. His ears pricked up; and standing silently, he heard a noise. It then became silent, and he began walking again, only this time with less-confident steps. He then heard the same noise. It was a shuffling noise, and it seemed to be coming from the right of him where an opened door was present.

David knew it was the manager's office, and before he had a chance to walk over and shut the door, one of those things stumbled out, making David gasp in fright. He took a step backwards, hypnotised by its hideous features. He had kept himself away from these things since the outbreak, and the closest he had been to one of them was when little Jody approached him from her kitchen when he was in the neighbour's back garden. But there had been a pane of glass between them. Now, he was in his first dangerous predicament, and he was frightened as hell.

The thing looked like it was wearing the attire that staff members wore, but it was so dark that he couldn't be entirely sure until it progressed nearer. David slowly pulled out the hammer from his belt, as his eyes never left this once-male instructor—he guessed—who was now covered in dried-in blood. He had no idea whose blood it was, but it was over his jaw and down his shirt as if he had been feeding on someone.

It stumbled forwards and David could feel his heart punching the inside of his chest whilst his whole body shuddered in fright. He then felt a cold presence on his neck, quickly turned around and released a scream.

There were two of them!

He was so engrossed in the male, that he didn't hear the dead female instructor approaching him from the side. David fell over, dropping his hammer, and quickly scrambled back to his feet. The two beings followed him around the dusky reception area, and David seemed hesitant on putting them down.

He couldn't believe it! He was so angry with himself.

He pulled out the knife and went behind the reception's desk to create a barrier between him and the two freaks that were desperate to rip him apart with their rotten teeth. The male leaned over, moaned a little, and tried to reach out for David, desperate for his flesh. David stabbed at the face of the male, making little progress, and then suddenly leaned back, took a breath in and shoved the knife into its right eye socket. David jumped back, shocked at what he had just done, and watched as the ghoul's head lowered. Thick, dark blood poured out onto the blade and handle of the knife, and it fell to the floor with a strident clump.

Unbothered by her colleague's demise, the dead female instructor reached out for David, but he was too far behind the desk to be grabbed. He jumped over the barrier on the other side and picked the hammer up off of the floor. The creature shambled after him and he brought the hammer back, now fuelled with adrenaline, ready to strike.

The female was bloated, blue in features, and was missing an eye for some reason. With his eyes narrowed, David swung the hammer at the dead female. It struck at the front of her forehead, forcing her to stumble back a few yards.

It came forwards again, and this time David turned the hammer around and made another two-handed strike, claw first. The hammer embedded itself into the top of the cranium and the thing immediately dropped to its knees and landed hard, face down, with a disgusting splat. Dark blood oozed out of the wound, slowly pooling around the floor, and it suddenly hit David how disgusting these things smelt, forgetting for a moment that they were already dead.

He managed to keep the food in his stomach down, and reached for the implanted hammer. Once he took a hold of it, he closed his eyes and pulled it out, trying to ignore the disgusting squelching noise. He looked at the knife that was in the eye socket of the other corpse, but decided to leave it in its new home. It was covered in blood, and he didn't want to touch the diseased tool. He thought about having to go back to Harry, and worried he could be carrying back all kinds of infections with him.

With the dripping hammer that he held with his right hand, he gaped at the two bodies and had nothing but sympathy for them. They had turned into the freaks he had seen on the TV, but before the virus occurred, they were people in their twenties, making a living, with their whole life ahead of them, or so _they_ thought.

He had no idea how they had turned. He thought that maybe one was bitten and whilst being comforted by the other, it reanimated and had bitten its colleague. He wasn't really sure.

Why didn't they call the emergency services? Maybe they did, but were, predictably, constantly engaged. And where were the customers? Did they all leave? Were there some inside?

He never noticed if the small car park was full or not.

David bent down and wiped the hammer on the clothes of victim number one, the knife still sticking out of its eye, and then made his way down to the gym, but with more caution this time.

Once he peered through the glass doors of the gym, his heart galloped even faster than before. "For God's sake."

There was a solitary ghoul slumbering around the small gym area. David had seen enough violence for one day, but walked inside nevertheless.

The ghoul immediately spun round; its neck had been torn open by a set of jaws, and his right cheek was mostly missing, revealing an awful yellow set of teeth at the side. David recognised the gym goer; he was dressed in blue shorts and an orange Nike sports top. He didn't know him by name, he was just a guy that he used to say 'hello' to when he was a regular himself.

He was in a far worse state than the two instructors, and stumbled in David's direction. It held its arms up and David twisted to the side and swooped its legs, easily putting it to the floor. He then picked up a barbell that had 80kgs of weight on it, where someone must have been dead-lifting, and just about managed to dump the bar on top of the creature, stopping it from moving off of its back.

It gnawed, writhed and snarled in dissatisfaction at its predicament, but David was confident it was going nowhere. He opened the door to the surprisingly unlocked cupboard, that was situated inbetween the Lat-Pull Machine and the Leg Press, and smiled to see four gallons of water in their plastic canisters. He thought they'd be more, but was happy nonetheless.

Now it was time to move them from the gym to his car, as well as the bag stuffed full of vending accessories that was still sitting against the wall in the reception area. The moving of the water was going to take a bit of time, but he had no room to complain. He was still alive. He still had air in his lungs, and he still had Harry.

Once he had put all the stolen supplies in his car, after making three trips, he fired the engine and did a U-turn in the barren street. The car went forwards and David was in such a daze, he had no recollection of the short journey back to his house.
Chapter Thirteen

Dixie and Lisa had settled themselves into Sarah's room for the night. David had told the mother that the back room, downstairs, was a sofa bed, but she naturally took the option of sleeping, or trying to sleep, on a higher floor.

David thought it was reasonably safe downstairs. Nothing had tried to get in over the last month, but he understood Dixie's consternation.

He lay on the bed next to a tired-looking Harry, and guessed that it was around 9pm. David couldn't stop thinking about what he had done to those ghouls, and it had plagued him for the remainder of the day when he returned.

Staring at the ceiling, David released a heavy exhale as he lay on his bed. The bedroom was dusky, thanks to the blinds and curtains blocking out what little light there was left on this summer's evening, and the images of the instructors' destruction would not leave his mind.

Both Harry and David lay on the bed in the clothes they had worn all day, with the exception of the T-shirt David had worn for the gym excursion. He was now in a fresh, red Puma T-shirt.

He closed his eyelids and felt a warm little hand slowly touch his face. It made him jump a little, and he suddenly released a smile.

"What's up, daddy?" Harry asked.

"I can't sleep, sunshine."

"I can't sleep as well."

David rolled onto his side, and stared at his beautiful boy. Harry never peeped at his daddy; he remained lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

"I can't believe you're seven. It didn't seem that long since I was carrying you to bed, and now you're a big lump," joked David.

"No, _you're_ a big lump," Harry sniggered, and began to scratch at his strawberry blonde hair. Both boys lay in silence for a minute, until Harry spoke once more, "Daddy?"

"Yes."

"Tell me about when I was born. I like that story."

David began stroking his son's head, and Harry closed his eyes for a second every time he was stroked. Maybe the story would put him to sleep, David thought. It was a story David had told Harry and Sarah a hundred times, but they sometimes liked to hear it on a night to have a break from books.

David began, "Well, we arrived at the hospital—"

"No," Harry interjected. "You forgot the part when I was made."

"Right," David sighed, but not impatiently. "You were made in a hospital. They took ... er ... bits from daddy, and a woman put daddy's bits inside mummy's tummy." The truth was when David needed to give his sperm sample, he had to go into a cubicle and masturbate on one leg to a magazine. The cubicle's lock was broken, so David had to use one leg to keep the door shut—a story Harry didn't need to know. He continued, "Then mummy got a phone call to say you was in her tummy and she cried for hours. You were our miracle boy."

Harry smiled every time he was called that, and he smiled again when those words left David's lips.

David added, "Then, when mummy got pains in her stomach, when you were ready to come out, we went to the hospital. They put her in a big pool and we said that if it was a boy, we'd called it Harry. And if it was a girl, we'd call it Abbie. Your mum liked Isaac, but I never liked the name."

"I like Isaac," said Harry.

"Well, we can't change it now." David playfully nudged his son in the side and continued, "Anyway, you were born a few hours later. You were seven pounds ... something. Then I went outside and rang grandma, _my_ mummy, and—"

Harry muttered with an excited grin, "I like this bit—"

"I phoned grandma, who was at work, and told her that she has a grandson. And she screamed out: _I'm so happy I could cry._ "

He turned to Harry and his eyes were nearly shut, but a smile on his face was there and he asked, "And what about Sarah?"

"Sarah was made normally. _You_ was our special wee fellow. And still are."

"Dad?"

"Uh-huh."

"Sing me the song."

David smiled and cleared his throat jokingly. It had been a while since he had sung Harry's favourite song. It was usually Jane that sung it with her sweet voice, not David with his deep, grizzly voice. He wasn't too sure if he could pull it off—in fact, he felt a little embarrassed.

David began singing Stevie Wonder's, _You Are The Sunshine Of My Life_ , but then paused halfway through. He tried again, and stopped at the part about drowning in tears. David decided to refrain from singing the chorus again, and there was no protest from Harry when his daddy stopped.

Harry was lying with his eyes closed and the smile slowly evaporated off his face. David leaned over and kissed his plump cheek, and could see Harry's eyes beginning to water from underneath his eyelashes.

"You okay, sunshine?"

Harry kept his eyes closed and answered, "Not really, daddy."

"What's wrong?" It was a silly question, _everything_ was wrong, but David asked anyway.

"I'm just a little sad, that's all." His eyes opened and the first tear fell from his left eye and ran down the side of his cheek that David had just kissed. Harry then slowly turned away from his father and lay on his side. "I miss everyone."

David kissed the back of his son's head and delicately put his arm around the only thing that was keeping him sane in this awful, new world that was developing.

A minute later, Harry was gently snoring.

*

The dead Carla lay on the rug in the back room, whilst the remains of Jack still sat on the floor in the kitchen. Helen Davies' plan was to bury her children in the back of the garden, but the intruder was still there, and the only positive was that no more had turned up. Helen had managed another two hours of sleep, after she had carried Carla's body downstairs, and spent her waking hours drinking water and rocking back and forth on the floor whilst mumbling the words to _Beautiful Boy_ by John Lennon. It was a song she used to sing to Jack every night.

She was still in her old clothes that she had been wearing for weeks, but planned on finally changing her clothing once she had killed the ghoul outside and had buried her children, if it was safe to do so.

She finished the remains of her water and grabbed the stained steak knife, the same knife that had killed her diseased daughter, off of the arm of the couch and headed for the roller blind. She pulled up the roller blind fully and slid the patio door wide open, unbothered about what needed to be done next.

Helen felt all alone; she thought she was going crazy, and was certain that her own death was just around the corner. She had decided on this day, like most days, that she was going to try again.

She was going to try and kill herself.

She didn't want to die by the hands of these things, or be bitten and go through the trauma of changing, and she certainly didn't want to stay in the house for months, going crazier, and eventually dying slowly of dehydration.

She wanted to die.

She wanted it to be _her_ choice, but she needed to take care of her children first.

She stepped outside and stared at the ghoul. She then turned to her right to see how it had got in. The small gate had been forced open. It wasn't a concern for her as the lock was always flimsy anyway. Even Carla had accidentally forced the gate open in the past when she had been playing with friends.

Once the beast in the garden began shambling over towards her, an emotionless Helen Davies grabbed the knife with two hands and waited for the dead female teenager to progress further. Its dirty hands had grabbed a hold of Helen, but she didn't scream, she didn't flinch, and she didn't panic either. She calmly rammed the knife into the eye-socket of the thing and watched it as it fell to the floor.

Surely this wasn't the behaviour of a sane woman?

After making sure the gate was as secure as it could be, she took a shovel from the shed and began digging a grave for both of her children. She sweated like a normal person, she panted like a normal person, but she never broke down like a normal person. She was a mother that had lost her two children and now she was digging their graves, but the expression on her face was blank.

Carla had been placed gently in the shallow two-foot grave and the bin liner, full of Jack's remains, was placed on top of Carla's stomach. Helen then began to move the dirt on top of Carla, and never took a break until the task had been finished.

As soon as she was finished, she looked around and could see that the evening was drawing in. She threw the shovel onto the grass and went inside, shutting and locking the patio door behind her.

She then calmly went into the bathroom and had a look in the medicine cabinet: ibuprofen, senna, paracetamol, plasters and voltarol was in there. There was also a strange little yellow bottle. She picked it up; it had _Locorten-Vioform_ on it, and Helen remembered that it was drops that her husband used for his eczema inside his ears. It must have been in there for months.

She took the bottle of paracetamol and put them into her pocket. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, she headed for the bathroom and got herself some water. She put the glass on the coaster, which sat on the arm of the couch, and put the bottle of pills there as well. She looked down at her tatty clothes and although she wasn't planning on staying around in this world anymore, she bizarrely decided to go to her room and get some fresh clothes.

She walked into her room and never bothered to scan it to see what kind of mess Carla had left it in. She simply stripped bare.

She put on a pair of black leggings and a black John Lennon T-shirt, but put on no underwear.

She then trudged back downstairs.

She was ready.

She was ready to end her life.
Chapter Fourteen

It was the next day. David had finally woken up, and the first sound that greeted him was young Lisa moaning to her mum that she was constipated. David threw the quilt over his head to drown out the noise from the girl who was in the upstairs bathroom, and tried to nod off and dream about Jane and Sarah again.

He reached out to the side of him to feel for Harry. He was still present, snoring softly. David then heard the bedroom door open and could hear heavy feet that had to belong to Dixie. He threw the quilt off of him and asked, "What is it?"

"Sorry to bother you," Dixie spoke nervously. "Lisa's using one of the buckets in the bathroom, but there's no toilet roll."

"There should be some kitchen roll in the cupboard under the stairs. After that, we'll be using the tea-towels ... socks, whatever."

"Okay, thanks." She left the room and David felt a little bad for being so sharp with her.

He looked at his watch. It was nearly ten. He and Harry had slept for twelve hours—a personal record, collectively. David sat up and wiped his sticky eyes. He looked over to see his son lying next to Dino and Monkey.

Dino was a green dinosaur cuddly toy, no longer than six inches in length. Monkey was brown, and the same size. David and Jane never threw them out or gave them away once Harry outgrew them; they kept them in his room for nostalgic reasons. This had been the first time David had seen his son sleeping with the soft toys he had since his birth in quite a while, and this produced a lump in his throat that his son had got up in the middle of the night and grabbed his baby toys from his shelf from his old room. It appeared he needed more than his dad for some kind of comfort.

_Poor Harry_.

David decided to leave him in bed, got up, and put his dressing gown over his clothes. He took a sniff of his armpits and he didn't like what he could smell. He knew in a couple of months that it was going to be worse.

He went to the ground floor to see Dixie and her daughter eating a chocolate bar and drinking water for their breakfast. David greeted both girls with a quick raise of his eyebrows, grabbed a cup from the kitchen and strolled into the bathroom and dunked the cup in the bath, then took a drink.

The day before, David had told Dixie a shortened version of how it went in the sports centre; he also told her that they should use up the bath water before attempting the water he had stolen from the gym. David grabbed a protein drink and a cereal bar from his bag and took it upstairs to give to Harry for his breakfast.

As soon as he entered his bedroom, he could see his boy, still lying down, stretching and yawning loudly.

David smiled at his perfect little man. "Morning, lazy bones."

Harry never responded to his dad, and continued to stretch. He suddenly sat up and peered around the room, then looked at his daddy. David could see that his son's face changed into a sad one, and David had guessed that maybe Harry had been dreaming about his mummy and Sarah and had forgot for a second what was really happening. David had done this himself in the second week. He was having a dream that he was on a family holiday, only to wake up and find that it was just him and Harry, and the girls weren't there anymore.

"You hungry?" he asked Harry, then placed the drink and protein bar on the side table.

The little man shook his head and said, "Have you got any cornflakes for later?"

"No, son." David had already been through this with his son before. "We haven't had cornflakes for weeks. And even if we did, we don't have any milk anymore."

Harry never verbally responded; he lowered his shoulders, got off the bed and trudged past his dad.

"Are you in a mood now?" David did his best to keep calm, but it was sometimes difficult not to get annoyed with his seven-year-old.

"I hate this." Harry called out with an emotional quaver in his voice. "It's boring." He then went into his room, shut his bedroom door and began to noisily play with his toys.

David shook his head and went after him. He opened his door to see Harry kicking his action figures across his carpet.

David warned, "Don't shout or make any other kinds of noises. And don't moan—"

"Because there's always someone worse off," Harry finished the sentence off. "You always say that."

"You stay in here for a bit, and calm down."

Harry gave off a half-chuckle. "Stay here? There's nowhere else to go."

Before David could respond to his son's last comment, the pounding of feet could be heard making their way up to the first floor. David turned around and was greeted by a flustered Dixie. The rotund woman was clearly out of breath, her cheeks were bright red, and there were pearly drops of perspiration sitting on her forehead, ready to run down.

She ran her fingers through her hair and said, "You need to see this. It's all kicking off outside."

David called Lisa, and once she came from downstairs, he told Lisa and Harry to stay in Harry's room for a while. He went into Sarah's room to peer out of the window.

Both adults looked out and could see a white van on the other end of the road and four men standing outside of it. David recognised them straight away. By the four men, lay another man a few yards away on the pavement. He was curled up in a ball as if he had been beaten, and knowing the reputation of the four men, David was pretty sure that they were responsible for the poor man's predicament.

"So what did you see?" he asked Dixie.

"I heard some shouting when I was in the back room. I went over to see what was going on, then saw that man," she pointed at the individual lying on the pavement, "getting the shit kicked out of him by those arseholes."

"Shit."

Dixie turned to David and said, "You've lived here all your life. Are they local?"

"They're definitely local," David sighed. "It's the Monroe family."

"The Monroe family?"

"These idiots have been terrorising this town for years. I think every single one of them have spent a stint in jail at one time or another." David pointed at the oldest of the group, a heavy man with a look that suggested he used to be a force to be reckoned with in his younger days. "That oldish guy with the tribal tattoos is the father of that rabble. I forgot his name. He," he pointed at the next one to the dad, "is called Jason Monroe or Jay. He's probably the worst out of the lot. Very violent. He killed a local guy years ago, but he got off 'cos they couldn't prove it. Rumour is that the family got to the jury."

"What did he do ... allegedly?" questioned Dixie.

"He knifed a guy to death outside a pub."

Dixie shook her head in disgust.

"And he," David referred to the next man standing next to Jay, "is called Kevin, or Cold. Horrible man. Rapist. Spent two years inside for raping a six-month pregnant woman by knifepoint. He got out four years ago, but there are rumours he had molested a couple of kids as well, but it never came to a trial."

"What a horrible family," said Dixie.

"Tell me about it. I thought you would have heard of them by now. How long have you been in this town, nine years?"

"We always kept ourselves to ourselves." Dixie looked at the final man amongst the group, and before she could ask who it was, David explained himself. "The young boy at the end is called Lance. He's the youngest of the four brothers."

"Four?" Dixie looked perplexed. "I can see the dad, and three of his sons."

"The other son, Gary, is in prison for armed robbery and murder."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"He robbed the bank in the town centre; a young girl set off the alarm and he shot her in the face with a shotgun. She was twenty years old."

Dixie lowered her head and shook it.

"They're the most feared family in the town." David pointed at the man lying on the floor who had just taken another kick from Jay, the eldest of the brothers. "And with this outbreak and the country becoming a lawless land in places, these idiots are going to go on the rampage while everyone else is gonna suffer."

"What if they come here?"

David sighed and shook his head. He looked back out of Sarah's bedroom window and watched the four men go into the house from across the road. "Let's hope they don't."

A minute later, a woman and a child came out of the house, screaming. She went over to the man on the floor—her husband, David presumed—while the four men raided it. Both David and Dixie gaped in morbid fascination at the scene in their street, and judging by the twitching of curtains in other households, they weren't alone.

Once the men had finished stealing, they came out of the house and popped back into the white transit van. The woman left her husband's side and ran over to the men and began slapping the eldest of the mob in the chest and screamed at him that her husband was unconscious.

Despite having a child present, the woman received a punch in the stomach from the father of the rabble, making the frightened child scream even more once her mum collapsed in a heap.

"Can't we do anything?" Dixie exclaimed.

David sighed, "And do _what_ exactly? I'm not doing anything that puts Harry at risk. No chance!"

"So that's it?"

"That's it." David then cursed under his breath, wishing he had taken the wheels off of his car, just in case they crossed the street. But then again, he may need a quick getaway if things went pear-shaped.

David walked away as Dixie continued to peer out. She then quickly removed herself from the window and put her hand over her mouth. David could hear the van move away and took a suspicious look at Dixie.

David asked, "What's wrong with _you_?"

Dixie looked at David with her wide, frightened eyes. "Shit. One of them saw me."

*

Helen Davies had spent many minutes sitting on the couch, gazing into nothingness, and daydreaming about the old world when she had a family. She looked over at the painkillers that she decided not to take the night before, and shook her head. Why couldn't she do it?

A bang on the patio door made her jump, and she twisted her neck to look at the roller blind that had covered the whole door and was touching the floor. With the roller blind being quite thin and the sun beaming onto the door, she could see silhouettes of more than one creature behind the patio doors. She took a slow stroll over and peered through a gap. The gate must have been forced again, but this time it wasn't just the one creature—there was about eight, and they appeared to be congregating around the patio door, with their dirty, diseased hands on the glass as if the bastards knew there was somebody inside.

She moved away from the doors and sat back down on the couch, her eyes glaring into the abyss. Despite showing a human emotion earlier with the bang making her jump, her heart rate didn't increase as much as it should have done.

Helen Davies began mumbling Lennon's _Nobody Told Me_ and, at last, tears formed in the bottom of her eyes when she stopped at the lyric, _Everyone is crying, but no one makes a sound._

Maybe she _hadn't_ lost her mind ... not yet.

She stood to her bare feet, and walked away from the patio doors that led out to the back garden, and went to the front door that led out onto her drive and the main street. Since her husband had left, her drive had been bare for months because he had taken the car, and she could see through the frosted glass of the door that a few more of these things were gathering.

With the steak knife in her hand, she opened the front door wide open, with little fear running through her veins, and walked outside onto the main street. Compared to the first few days of the outbreak, the street was relatively clear, but the dead still lingered, although not in the large numbers that they were in during the first week. Some had gone elsewhere, whilst brave citizens had killed others.

In her bare feet, Helen Davies walked briskly along her road, already attracting the attention of one ghoul from the other side. Its excitement had become its downfall. As it reached her presence, it received a steak knife into its ear, making it drop like a stone. Helen then walked around the corner of the street to find another three up ahead. She was a mile from the woods and knew that once she had finally left the outskirts of her town, there could be a chance that the danger could be a lot lower.

All three beasts, all males, staggered towards her and Helen kicked the one on the left over, grabbed the middle beast and pushed it away, making it fall over the one she had already kicked. She then plunged her knife into the forehead of the remaining ghoul on the right, surprised it had actually penetrated the skull. Once she removed the knife, she looked to her left and saw the other two struggling to get to their feet.

She took care of them with ease. She then walked further away from her house in her bare feet, and never looked back.
Chapter Fifteen

It was another new day.

After spending the rest of an unexciting Thursday fretting about the Monroe family because a family member had spotted Dixie, David and Dixie had words and he rebuffed her idea of moving into _her_ house? She told David that they should hide in his attic in case they came to his house, and if they did, the four of them could climb out onto the roof and move into her home. She said that having her defunct husband, Robert, and Jody downstairs, could provide a little protection and put the men off from going into her place as well.

David wasn't convinced.

He knew the family, and a couple of ghouls were only going to excite them, because it meant they needed to use violence to remove them.

After a sleepless night, David Johnson walked around the house, early in the morning, and was relieved that nobody had tried to get in. Even though Hardridge was a small town with a population of over four thousand, he was sure that the Monroe family had now gone elsewhere, probably up Bower Lane where the middle-class people lived.

David looked at his watch. It was after nine; he decided to go downstairs to make breakfast, which was going to be a cup of water, a tin of cold beans, and maybe one of the cereal bars he had taken from the gym's vending machines.

He went into his bedroom first and walked past the full-length mirror. He clocked himself and could see by appearances alone that he had lost weight, maybe even a stone. He opened his bedside drawer and could see sitting in the drawer was his Acer laptop, his pyjama bottoms, and a 1982 Dracula's Spinechillers annual that he had bought.

For nostalgic reasons he ordered the annual off Amazon UK a couple of months ago as he had lost his original. It cost him ten pounds, but he was pleased to receive another copy and read the sixty-four page book that he used to read all the time when he was eight and nine years old. He smiled when he flicked through it and saw the comics of _Castle Dracula_ and _Twins of Evil_ inside it, amongst other stories.

Also, at the bottom of the drawer, was a tray of scattered condoms. Although David had had the snip after Sarah was born, he and Jane still used protection so the physical part of their relationship was less messy after intercourse had taken place.

He opened the bottom drawer and found what he was looking for: a cardigan. He felt a chill, despite it being summer, and fancied a lazy day anyway. After he put the cardigan on, he gave it a sniff and pulled a face. He took it off and threw it to the side of the bed. He looked at the bed and could see Harry still sleeping.

"I'm gonna have to wake you up, sunshine," David uttered quietly. "Otherwise you won't sleep tonight."

He lay on the bed and watched for minutes as his son finally opened his sticky eyes. "Morning, son."

Harry never answered and stretched out his arms, lifting his Batman pyjama top up, revealing his white skin from his plump belly.

"I'm hungry," were the first words to come out of his mouth.

David guffawed, "Open your eyes first, squirt."

"Daddy, I think I need a stinky."

"Okay." David got off the bed and put his bare feet into his brown leather sandals. "I'll check if the bathroom's free and get a bucket or a bag."

A sudden pounding noise could be heard from downstairs and both Harry and David gawped at each other in fright.

"David!" Dixie screamed from Sarah's bedroom. "Someone's trying to get in the house."

David told Harry to stay where he was, and ushered Dixie and Lisa into the room as well. "Stay there. It might be nothing."

David galloped down his stairs and entered his reception area. He could see a man behind the frosted glass of his front door. "Who is it?"

The man struggled to find words at first, as if he was thinking about what he should say. The alarm bells were ringing straight away in David's head, and as soon as he asked the man what he wanted, his reply was also suspicious.

The man answered, "I live at the end of the street. I was just going round, seeing if everyone was okay."

It was a terrible answer, and David didn't believe the man, in fact, he was pretty sure, from what he could make out through the frosted glass, that the young man standing outside his front door was Lance Monroe, the youngest of the Monroe family.

"Well, _I'm_ fine. Leave me alone." David waited for his response, but was hoping that there wasn't going to be one, and that the young man was going to turn on his heels and walk off his premises.

I hope they haven't touched the car.

He then heard and saw the man try the door.

"Look, just fuck off!" David exclaimed. "Don't you dare come in."

"Or what?" the young man laughed.

Yeah, David. Or what?

David couldn't find any more words to back-up his false bravado.

The youngster tried the door again and this time he began to shoulder barge it, trying to force it open, which made David shake with nerves. A voice came from outside. David couldn't hear what had been said to the young man, but the young man had stopped trying the door and responded angrily to a voice that was behind him, "Look, I can do this myself. I don't need babysitting all the time."

David then heard a man say, "But you're our baby brother." This comment was then followed by laughter from a few men. This was when David realised that the Monroe mob had returned to the street, and it appeared that they were goading the youngest to get into David's house after seeing that Dixie had clocked them assaulting the man and woman from over the road the day before.

Lance, David assumed, then turned around and said to one of his brothers, "Get me a knife while you lot are going next door. I've got a stubborn fucker in here."

David suddenly removed himself from the reception area and ran back up the stairs. He burst into the bedroom and said to Dixie, "Get the kids in the attic and hide. I'll then close the hatch."

"What?" she shrieked.

"You heard."

Dixie shook her head and put her arm around her daughter. "We're not going anywhere without you."

"Please, just do it."

"I can't."

"They're coming in. And some are going into your house as well."

"But ... what about you?"

"The younger brother already knows I'm in here," David said. "It'll look suspicious if the house is empty. I'll just pretend I'm on my own. The water from the gym's well hidden but he could take the food." They then heard the front door being kicked, forcing Dixie to release a frightened shriek. She quickly covered her mouth, even though it was too late. David glared at her. "Hurry."
Chapter Sixteen

Dixie, Lisa and Harry remained hiding in the bedroom. Harry had refused to go to the attic without his dad, so they all quickly put some decent clothes on and hid in Sarah's room.

They heard the door being forced open, and David now stood at the top of the stairs, away from eyes, peeking down. Because of the lowered roof that was present, David could only see a set of footsteps walking along his laminate flooring, the boots leaving a little mud with every step.

David held his breath and whispered a prayer. He crossed his fingers and hoped that the individual took what he needed from downstairs and left immediately. He was hoping that the upstairs wouldn't be checked out, and he hoped that it didn't come to the stage where he had to use the claw hammer that was being gripped with his sweaty right hand.

David was a little thankful that it was just the one in the house, and could hear noises and banging from next door as if another one of the brothers had broken into Dixie's. David jumped when he heard two gunshots. They came from next door, and although not exactly loud because of his thick walls, it still startled him.

Two gunshots.

David assumed that the reanimated Robert and his youngest daughter, Jody, were no more. Hoping that the gunshots had enticed the man downstairs away from his own house, David checked the ground floor that he could see, but the Lance character was still mooching about.

David stood up straight against the landing wall, heart thumping hard, his hands dripping with perspiration, and tried to control his breathing. He had killed two of those things back in the sports centre, but knew that killing a human was a different ballgame altogether. He didn't want to strike out, but if Harry was at risk he would have no other option, as talking to these men didn't seem to be something that could achieve positive results.

Then the moment he was dreading had arrived. Lance, who never had the knife he asked for, was without a weapon and was beginning to slowly climb the stairs. David squatted down and sucked a breath in, and then slowly released it out as if he was smoking a cigarette.

Once Lance got to the curve-part of the stairs that bent round to the landing, David, suffocated by fear, stood up and lashed out at the young man, striking him in the face with the claw hammer. Lance screamed out, held his face, and then tumbled down the stairs. With a noisy clang, his head struck the radiator on the ground floor that was attached to the wall, opposite the stairs, and he never returned to his feet.

David glared at the hammer with wide eyes as if it was the tool's fault, and the realisation quickly sank in, making the forty-one-year-old panic even more, if that was at all possible. "Shit, shit, shit."

Dixie came from the bedroom and asked, "What is it?" David pointed down the stairs and Dixie released a gasp as soon as she spotted the body. "Is he...?"

"Sleeping? Meditating?" David's dark sarcasm was lost on Dixie.

"Dead?"

David shook his head and placed his hand on his cold, damp forehead. "I think so. I'm going down to check."

David trotted down the stairs and approached the body with caution. He bent down and felt for a pulse. He looked up at Dixie on the first floor, and shook his head.

"Oh no," she cried. "They're gonna come in, looking for him. That old man has a gun."

"Just don't panic."

"Don't panic?" Her face seemed less-than-impressed with David. "Me and Lisa should have stayed where we were."

"I didn't want this," protested David. " _They_ brought this here. They brought this on themselves."

"Yeah, and _we're_ gonna pay for it." Dixie sat on the top step and dropped her head in her hands. "We need to go out and explain to them, see if they'll understand."

"You want me to go out there and tell the father of a notorious family that I've just killed his youngest son?" David laughed. "Seriously?"

"Why don't we go to mine? Through the attic, over the roof—"

"Not this again."

"It makes sense."

"No chance. This is my house."

"I know Robert ... er ... those things are on the ground floor—"

"Not any more," David said.

"What?"

"Didn't you hear the gunshots?" David shook his head.

"What gunshots?"

"Staying in your house wouldn't have made a difference. I heard them in your house just now, and I heard two gunshots. I don't think Robert and Jody are around anymore, I mean ... they weren't anyway..."

Dixie placed her hand over her mouth and began to shed tears. David found this baffling. She knew that technically they were already dead. David thought that maybe it was just the thought of her husband and her baby girl lying down there, with their heads possibly torn apart from gunshot wounds.

Dixie then said, "I don't even know why I'm crying."

"After what's been happening, you've every right to cry. You've lost your little girl."

Dixie nodded and tried to clear her tight throat. "I've been trying to stay strong for Lisa." She brushed one side of her brown hair over her ears with her quivering hand and said, "I'm not sure I'm cut out for this."

"Nobody is, but Lisa needs you. You're all she has left. You can't quit now."

"It's bad enough having the things attacking you, especially in the first few weeks, without having to deal with bad people as well."

David nodded in agreement and explained to Dixie that with power and running water now defunct, and food going short, even the most respectable of citizens may do some unforgivable things to keep their family alive and safe.

Dixie's eyes scowled with confusion, and it was apparent that she had no idea what he was talking about.

"Well, just think about it," David tried to explain. "If Harry was near-starving to death and was severely dehydrated, I would do anything to help him get better."

Dixie asked him, "Even robbing and assaulting others? People with families?"

David opened his mouth to answer Dixie's query, but he couldn't. He didn't know if he could harm another human being for his own gain. He then played a make-believe image of Harry lying in the bed, ribs poking out of his torso through lack of food, and slipping out of consciousness with his lips all cracked from dehydration.

Yes, he _could_ do it!

"We've been gabbing long enough," said David. "Find a hiding place and stay there until these fuckers leave the street. No point going into the attic; there's nowhere to hide in there."

Dixie went into the next bedroom and took Lisa under Harry's bed. David, on the other hand, ushered Harry into his bedroom cupboard. They were never going to win any hide-and-seek competitions, but it was all that was available.

Two minutes later, they heard boots enter the house and angry profanities being released once the body of Lance was found at the bottom of the stairs.

Dixie and David had no idea what was going to happen next.
Chapter Seventeen

"Daddy?" Harry whispered.

David shushed him. "Quiet, sunshine."

Ignoring his dad, Harry asked, "Are we hiding from the monsters?"

"No, son." David thought that it was pointless lying to him. "Bad men."

Harry never responded and clutched onto David's hand, very tightly.

Both father and son were hiding in the main bedroom's cupboard.

David could feel his boy's warm hand and he stroked his hair with his free one. Harry then began squeezing and pinching his dad's elbow—a sign that the little man was apprehensive and needed some kind of comfort.

When David was seven years old, all he worried about was what time his favourite programme started, or getting picked for his school football team. Now he had Harry, who should have been worrying about similar things, and not about bad men or flesh-eating monsters.

What kind of life was his son going to have from now on? A life of constant fear? A life of living hand to mouth?

Was it worth living at all?

As two sets of boots stomped their way to the landing, David covered Harry's ears when the angry tirades from both men began. "We're gonna fuckin' kill ye. You're as good as dead. We're gonna make this fuckin' slow, ye hear me?"

More stomping occurred and David could hear them go into Sarah's room.

This is pointless. They're going to find us.

"Check the attic!" David heard a man shout. Then seconds later, David heard a scream from Dixie.

"I've found one!" one of the men bellowed. "Actually, I've found _two_."

David had stopped breathing temporarily so he could hear what was going on in the next bedroom. At least Harry was behaving inside the dark cupboard, being quiet and standing still for his daddy.

"You two on your own?" a man questioned Dixie.

To her credit, Dixie answered yes, and added, "This is my house. I'm sorry about the man downstairs, I was protecting my daughter."

"I thought Lance had been talking to a _man_ through the front door?" the same man queried.

"No, it was me."

David then heard a slap, followed by a scream from both mother and daughter.

"You killed my fucking brother!" the same voice yelled.

David felt incredibly guilty and was a little ashamed of himself that Dixie and Lisa were going through this, and here he was hiding in a cupboard. David did fear that Lisa could let the cat out of the bag, but was prepared to let Dixie take the blame if it meant keeping his son safe.

David then heard cries from both girls, and it sounded like they were being dragged downstairs. David was nearly in tears, and opened the cupboard, prepared to do something. He then felt a little hand grab the material of his trouser leg.

"Don't go, daddy." Harry looked frightened; his rainy eyes were ready to release tears. "I'm scared."

David put his hand comfortingly on his son's head, and could now hear that Dixie and Lisa were being escorted outside.

"Stay there," said David, and stepped out of the cupboard.

"Don't go, daddy," Harry cried.

"I'm not going outside. I'm going to look out of Sarah's window to see what's going on. You stay there and don't move, whatever happens." Harry obediently nodded, and David felt terrible closing the cupboard door. Harry hated the dark, like any other seven-year-old. "I'll be one minute, sunshine."

David went into Sarah's room. It looked reasonably tidy considering it had just held a melee. The cupboard had been moved a little; Sarah's _Hello Kitty_ bedspread had been pulled back, and her main cupboard had its doors left open. He walked over to the window; the blinds still closed, and peered out.

He could see the Transit van parked right out of his house, where the three men, including the father, stood outside and were questioning Dixie quite aggressively. Young Lisa was in tears.

"Bastards," David snarled. "Leave them alone."

He then saw the rest of the brothers in deep discussion with the father. The father of these boys nodded sadly, still upset that he had lost his youngest, and Lisa was picked up by the other brother, Kevin Monroe.

David knew of Kevin. His nickname was Cold, and he had been accused of rape and child molestation, but his family still stuck by him. As soon as Kevin picked up Lisa, David Johnson feared the worst. Kevin Monroe then opened the back of the Transit and literally threw her in, whilst Dixie screamed after her and had to be held back by the father.

Throwing Lisa into the back of the van had baffled David. What the hell were they going to do with a nine-year-old girl? He then thought of Kevin's sexual history.

Surely not!

Tears fell from David's eyes as he saw his female neighbour cry and struggle to get free. He wanted to go down there with a blade and slash and stab at these bastards, but that kind of action could cost him, and the thought of Harry being alone for the rest of his life held him back from doing anything.

Feeling useless, he continued to glare out and saw Cold and the eldest brother carrying their youngest brother, Lance, and putting his corpse into the back with Lisa. Then they both got into the front of the van. The father then released his grip on Dixie and pushed her to the ground. She continued to cry and curled herself up, sobbing, knowing that she was about to lose her second daughter.

The father then picked up his shotgun off the floor and turned it around, went over to Dixie and manically and frantically rained blows into her skull, screaming out the word "bitch." David threw his hand over his mouth as he could see the lifeless Dixie receiving blow after blow, her skull eventually caving in and bleeding all over the pavement.

"Oh my god!" were the only words David could manage before breaking down. He then turned to the side and threw up on the floor. The vomit came out profusely and hit the laminate flooring with a huge splat. He wiped his mouth and looked back out of the window, hands shaking.

The father began dragging Dixie's broken and bloodied body down David's drive and back into the house, which they thought was hers. David told himself that if he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, he was going to hide behind the corner and give the man what for. But it never happened.

He peered back out of the window. The man walked off the premises; he then punched the side of the van with fury, upset because of the loss of his son. He went inside the van; the vehicle moved away, and disappeared along the road and out of view.

In the distance, coming down the street, David could see three of the dead, stumbling. He decided to go downstairs and make sure the door was shut and blocked off, and then he needed to see to his son.

He began his descent and as he made his seventh step, he paused and scrunched his eyes, almost knitting his eyebrows. His chin was raised and began sniffing like a hound dog. His senses picked up something that was coming from downstairs.

Smoke?
Chapter Eighteen

David ran downstairs and could hear noises coming from the living room. He opened the door and was suddenly overpowered with smoke and flames. The father of the Monroe family had set fire to the curtains of the room, and his intentions were to burn down the house.

Knowing that putting out such a fire was impossible, David shut the door and ran back upstairs to get his son. He then changed his mind and decided to get empty bottles and fill them in the shallow bath.

He then quickly took a carrier bag, as the fire raged in the next room, and put some tins in. He then grabbed the water canisters, his car keys from the kitchen, and opened the vehicle. "Thank god they never touched the car." He went outside, stepping over Dixie's body that had been dumped in the reception area, and dumped the bag in the front seat as well as the water. He then ran back upstairs for his son.

David quickly opened the cupboard door, giving Harry a fright. "We gotta leave, sunshine."

"Why? Where's Lisa and Dixie?"

David was trying to hold it together but he was struggling. With Dixie and Lisa in the back of his mind, he tearfully took a hold of his son's hand, made sure he had shoes on, then they both headed downstairs.

"Daddy, what's that smell?"

The fire was raging in the living room and the smoke poured out of the gap from underneath the door. David then put his hands over Harry's eyes as they approached the front door, stopping him from seeing Dixie's corpse. Blood pooled where she was dumped, and a quick peep from David confirmed that her head had been caved in, with a small section of the brain being exposed. He could feel his stomach doing cartwheels and reprimanded himself for looking.

_Poor Dixie_.

He then wondered where they were taking Lisa, and what they were going to do to her. He shook his head. He didn't _want_ to know!

As he got onto his drive, he took a look around and could see that three dead walkers were slowly coming over. He ushered his confused son into the back of the car, and took another frightened look to see how many yards the things had gained.

"But daddy," Harry whined. "What about the rule of never going outside?"

David was surprised he even remembered the rules from the blackboard in Sarah's room.

"We need to go," David said. "Remember the rule: Always do what dad says?"

He told his son to strap himself in, then to close his eyes and not to open them until he said so.

David patted himself to see if he was missing anything and went inside the vehicle. In the old days, when he was working, it was wallet, phone and keys. Now, it was keys and claw hammer. He placed the hammer on the passenger seat, and then placed the key in the ignition and turned it.

Seeing that these things were only a matter of yards away, he quickly reversed out of his drive, slipped the car into first, and the vehicle squealed its way out of the street.

"Daddy, I'm scared," Harry cried from the back of the car, his eyes still tightly shut.

"It's okay, son. Just keep those eyes closed until I say otherwise." David swerved at the junction at the end of his street and headed out of town. He looked in his rear-view mirror to see two ghouls in the middle of the road.

When the outbreak first happened they were in their hundreds. Where were they now? David was unsure whether some had been killed, had left the town to go elsewhere, or ... he couldn't think of another reason.

David looked to the left of him on the passenger seat, peeking at the claw hammer. He was hoping he wasn't going to need it.

"Daddy, where are we going?" Harry's eyes were now open. He thought that maybe his dad had forgot that they were shut, and he was right.

_I have no idea_. "We're going to the woods, son. There should be less of those things up there." _I hope_. David's theory was that these things went where the 'food' was. Surely the woods would be a safe haven; but was everyone with a vehicle thinking along the same lines?

"Just need to park up," David said aloud to no one in particular, "and get some respite."

"What does that mean?" cried Harry.

Ignoring Harry's question, David continued to mutter, "There're a few beauty spots we can go to. That'll have to do for now."

"I miss mummy and Sarah, daddy."

Jesus, son. So do I. So do I.

"Where's Lisa?"

Shit, Harry. Give me a break, will you?

David blew out his anger, and told himself that Harry was a seven-year-old boy, missing his mummy, his sister, his friends, and had no idea that his future was looking very bleak and that his daddy was doing his utmost to keep things together—whatever that meant.

David was still on the desolate, main road, and could see that he was now coming to the end of the woods. He was now in the open and with farmland to either side of him. He pulled the car up at the side of the road, switched the engine off, and turned around to see how Harry was coping.

"Okay?"

Harry smiled bravely. "Getting hungry now, daddy."

David nodded in agreement. "Me too."

David fought back the tears and was upset that they had to flee their house. It seemed incredible that it was human savagery that had caused them to flee, and not these man-eating monsters that the country seemed plagued with.

David rubbed his eyes and remembered watching TV and seeing how fast the outbreak was sweeping through the UK, but was that still the case? How many survivors were there?

He thought that it'd be best not to think about it. Harry was his number one priority, but it didn't stop the image of Dixie, entering his mind, getting her head smashed in by the eldest member of the Monroe family.

Bastards!

David reached for the bag that had fallen down at the side of the passenger seat due to his erratic driving, and pulled out a bottle of water. He gave it to his son, and Harry drunk a quarter of the bottle. David then left the car, opened the passenger door once he was out, and put the canisters in the boot. He then returned to the car and gave his son a smile.

"Right." David fired the engine again and pulled away.

"I thought we were going to the woods, daddy." Harry took a peek behind him, seeing the cluster of trees getting further away.

"We were, but I think we'd be better off out in the open. But we'll stay _near_ the woods."

David could then see two figures, in the distance, lying on the floor. His intrigue should have been ignored, as an unnecessary investigation of these things wasn't going to benefit Harry, especially if his daddy became bitten.

He stopped the car twenty yards from the bodies, told Harry to stay where he was, then got out of the vehicle with no protest from his son.

David could see that if there was any danger, any walking ghoul could be seen from hundreds of yards away, now that they were both out in the open with nothing but fields to the side of them. David walked and made small steps towards the bodies and could see that both were reanimated beings, and neither one of them were going to walk again.

Both of the ghouls were female and lying adjacent to one another. The one with the dirty blonde hair had had her legs ran over by a large vehicle, judging by the tyre marks. Her legs were crushed and her condition was preventing her from moving. She was a stereotype of what these beings were. Her face was ashen, her eyes had a milky film over them, and there was blood present over her mouth where she must have been feeding on some poor soul not so long back.

He looked at ghoul number two, and saw that this one was in an even worse condition. "What the fuck are you things?" David cussed.

This one had also been ran over. David was now thinking that it may have been the same vehicle, and its torso seemed to have taken the brunt of the damage. David guessed that they had been hit first whilst they were standing, then went under the heavy vehicle. The second one had been struck in the middle. It was lying on its front like ghoul number one, but its back had been crushed and the contents of the stomach had been squished and spread out over the road, like a human road-kill. Their heads, mouth and arms were still moving, and they snarled, still desperate to take a bite out of him, but their overall movement was very little. It was as if the crushing of the bodies had fused them to the road, and the only way they were going to get any kind of movement was if they could somehow detach themselves from their damaged parts.

The stench was awful and David lifted his T-shirt up over his nose, but this time he never threw up.

When the outbreak first occurred he had remained indoors, away from these things, but in the last few days with the gym episode and these bodies on the road, he had become a little desensitised by their presence. He thought that this could only be a good thing if he and Harry were going to have a life on the road, and knew that their journey for survival may include battles with these things every now and again.

He was in two minds whether to take Harry out of the car and 'introduce' him to what was now one of the dangers of this new world, but he refrained from doing so. Harry couldn't spend the rest of his days with his eyes closed, and maybe becoming desensitised by these frightening creatures would also be good for him, but David had to keep reminding himself: He's only seven!

David was trying to plan what he was going to do in the long-term. He wanted to stay out in the open, away from population, but that meant away from areas where there could be food. It meant he would have to ask Harry to stay in an area, possibly a field, whilst his father went out in the car for supplies into towns and villages.

In theory it sounded okay, but trying to convince his son to stay hidden in the middle of a field, on his own for a couple of hours, was not going to be an easy feat for both parent and son. He didn't want to take Harry with him in case he ran into trouble, but David had a feeling that he may not have much of a choice in the matter. And what were they going to do once the petrol in the car ran out?

The future looked grim.

He also was going to have to get Harry to learn basic things like lighting fires, keeping warm. If anything did happen to David, Harry needed to be prepared to live on his own, which was easier said than done for a seven-year-old boy who was missing Dino and Monkey.

Once David returned to the car, he sat in his seat and turned around to see the concern scrawled over his son's face.

"Are they monsters, daddy?" asked Harry, pointing ahead of him.

"Yes, sunshine." David cleared his throat, fighting back his emotions, and began to face the front. "We're gonna drive around them, but I want you to keep your eyes closed."

"Okay."

"You promise?" David looked at his boy through the rear-view mirror.

Harry nodded and bit his lower lip. "Yes, I promise."

David looked at his little man with glassy eyes. He was trying so hard to be brave for his daddy, but he was scared.

My poor boy. This isn't right.
Chapter Nineteen

The car moved along slowly, and turned left at the junction. It then turned into another barren road, and David told Harry that they were going to pull over once they reached the next bus stop. David pulled the car in and had a look around. Farmland was to the right of him, as well as a small hut that was probably used as storage for farm equipment, but because he had turned left at the junction, the edge of the woods was to his left.

"Daddy, I need the toilet."

"So do I, son." David pointed to the side of him. "We'll just take a pee at the side of the road."

"No, daddy. I need a stinky. I didn't have time to have one back at the house."

David sighed, but he knew these moments were going to happen. He thought about his 'staying out in the open' theory. Maybe it'd be more advantageous to drive to the next village and try somebody's house, or even check out his mum's place. Maybe he even should go back to his own small town and see if someone would put them up. The Monroe mob were rampaging through the place, but after four weeks of lawlessness, didn't all towns and cities have their own gangs of mercenaries? With being cooped up in the luxury of his own home for four weeks, it was hard to answer that question.

He looked at the dark blue sky and then glanced at his Citizen watch. He had three hours before darkness arrived. He opened the car door and walked with Harry to the side of the road.

"I forgot toilet roll, squirt," David tried to explain. "So let me pee first, then have your stinky in the woods and I'll look for some big leaves to clean you up."

A minute had passed, and after David had emptied his bladder, David walked Harry further into the woods for his stinky. The father took a fearful look around, and watched as his frightened boy pulled his trousers down and squatted to the floor. He shot straight back up and began crying. Feeling stressed, David sighed impatiently, "What is it?"

"What if a fly goes up my bum?" the boy cried.

"It won't."

"But—"

"Just do it. No arguments."

David walked around with the claw hammer tucked into his belt, and started pulling off leaves for his son. He looked behind him to see his boy was still doing his business, and continued to select more large leaves.

"Daddy!"

"Won't be a minute, son." David had his left hand full of leaves and began picking a few more with his right.

"Daddy!"

"Give me a minute, Harry."

Harry cried, "I can see a monster."

David quickly turned around to see that Harry wasn't seeing things.

A solitary being stumbled along the road, passing the car, but it never saw father and son who were ten feet into the woodland. David crept over and began wiping Harry. "Just keep quiet. Don't say anything," David whispered.

He pulled his son's trousers up and they knew they had to wait for it to pass before they could leave the condensed trees. Harry took a step backwards and stood on a twig that snapped. David swivelled his head round to gently reprimand his son, but the snap had already created a hazard.

Harry pointed with a tremulous finger, and David looked to where the finger was pointing. The ghoul staggered into the woods and was heading straight for them.

Nervous as hell, David took out his hammer with his shaking hands, told Harry to stay put, then walked to meet their aggressor. David slowly trudged through the greenery and then stopped walking, waiting for the creature to stumble nearer. He looked at the rotten male with disgust, and swung the hammer back, ready to strike. Weary of the dangers of getting blood in his eye with a weapon like a hammer, there was still little hesitation in David because his son was in danger.

He told Harry to look away and made his first strike.

The flat part of the hammer struck the thing at the side of its head. It stumbled a little, but was still standing. The hideous-looking being then groaned and grabbed a hold of David around the throat, making Harry cry out. David released a shriek, dropped the hammer, then grabbed its shoulders to push the thing back, but it was stronger than it looked.

Still scuffling, and Harry crying behind him, David and the creature both fell to the ground. David then pushed his hand upwards against the creature's throat, trying not to get bitten, and could see white maggots spilling out of its mouth. David turned his head to the side, trying to avoid these insects, and retched a little when three of the ghastly things fell into his mouth. He now used both hands to push away the decomposed being, and managed to push it off of him altogether, by pushing it to the side.

He quickly got to his feet, ran to his son and told him to follow him.

They both ran away from the creature and quickly veered left, back to the main road. Once they reached the road, they ran the few yards to get back to the car; they jumped in, and David frantically searched for his keys.

"Oh, don't do this to me." He patted every pocket he had and realised that he may have lost the keys during the scuffle.

No hammer! No car keys!

"For fuck's sake!" David punched the steering wheel.

"Daddy," Harry cried. "You're scaring me."

David turned to his son. "I'm gonna have to go back. As soon as I leave, lock the doors."

"Daddy, don't leave me!"

"I'll be one minute. You lock _one_ door and they all lock. Okay, sunshine?"

Harry nodded, reluctantly, tears running out of his green eyes and down his plump cheeks that were scattered in freckles.

David left the car again, waited for the click to confirm that Harry had locked the doors, and then ran straight through the woods, right _at_ the ghoul this time. With every ounce of anger he had in him, David front-kicked the beast into the mid-riff. It flew back a few yards and then David took the hammer from the floor and rained four blows into its skull.

The front of its head was brutally damaged and the remaining two blows had smashed into the diseased brain. In shock, he looked at the hammer to see a small amount of contaminated brain debris hanging off the flat end. No blood flew back at him during the attack, and David wasn't sure that this was because of luck, or because the body wasn't alive anymore and the blood wasn't oxygenated, which meant that the blood inside the being was probably thicker and less likely to spurt. He had no idea.

The damage to the head created a black treacle-like fluid that poured out of the large wound, and David was surprised that he wasn't feeling nauseous. Was he now getting used to this macabre world already? Or was his strength and bravery present because he had his boy to think of?

David then scanned the area of the woods, looking for his car keys. It was impossible to see through the long grass, but he ruffled through it as well as the long bracken and found them.

A faint scream made David twist his neck, and he gasped as he saw three of the things surrounding the car. He was twenty yards away, but he could still see Harry banging on the inside window with both palms of his hands, urging his dad to hurry up, terror scrawled across his red face, tears streaming out of his terrified eyes. There was another two walking up the road, and it appeared they had come from the hut, from the other side of the road. But what were they doing in there?

"Harry!" David screamed. "Harry!"

David's yells were not distracting the beings as they continued to slam their hands against the windows of the car, desperate to get in, desperate to rip the little boy to bloody shreds.

Grabbing the hammer tight, David ran at the car and could hear more rustling in the trees to the left of him. He couldn't see anything at first, but as he progressed nearer the car to the edge of the woods, he could see a large man to the side of him running with a shotgun. The experience was beyond surreal, but David tried to focus on keeping his son safe. Then suddenly, the man called out to David, "Go to the other side of the road and I'll distract them. Then get your boy."

How does he know I have a boy?

David didn't have time for questions. He emerged out of the woods and ran across the other side of the road and began waving and hollering, trying to entice the three ghouls away from the car. All three turned in unison, and shambled their way towards David.

"Get my boy!" David yelled at the strange man, who now stood motionless by the front of the car.

"Not yet!" the man snapped. He seemed to know what he was doing. The man gestured to the boy in the car to stay put, then turned to see the two advancing ghouls walking towards the car, whilst David continued backing away from the other three heading his way.

"Keep walking," the man commanded. "It's too dangerous to take all three out."

"Hurry up and do something!" begged David.

David could now see that the dark-haired man was quite muscular, and he guessed that he was trying to keep the two freaks away from the other three fiends to make their demise a little easier, rather than having to take out five, one after the other.

The strange man casually strolled towards the two ghouls. With the butt of the gun he put both fiends down. Once they were lying on the road, the large man pummelled them both with four strikes each to the head. David watched from afar as their heads caved in and almost cracked open like Easter eggs, producing dark blood all over the road. Seeing this, he immediately thought about the barbaric way Dixie was killed by the Monroe mob.

The man then ran over towards David, where the other three were slowly walking over to him. Hearing his footsteps, one of the creatures turned away from David and stumbled towards the large man, leaving his two other 'friends', arms outstretched.

The man held the gun, and this time it was being held the right way, and he squeezed the trigger. The loud bang made David jump and saw the blast take away half the creature's head off. Dark blood, skull and brain matter flew behind and scattered all over the road whilst the victim dropped to its knees and fell face-down on the tarmac, with the remainder of its brain slipping out of the gaping hole of its bloody cranium.

Both ghouls now had turned around, with their back to David, and were now both meandering in the man's direction after hearing the blast.

Whilst their backs were turned on David, he took the opportunity to smash his hammer, claw-ways, into the head of the one in the blood-soaked pink blouse. The female collapsed in a heap, taking the hammer with it that was still buried into the skull.

The stranger then turned the gun round again, butt-ways, and smacked the remaining one in its face, knocking it over.

"How many are about?" He turned to David.

David shrugged his shoulders; he had no answer. "Me and my son just pulled in for a toilet break, we—"

"We need to get the fuck out of here." The man then pointed at the barn and another seven shambled out. "I don't have the cartridges or the energy to sort these cocks out. Where you headed?"

David couldn't give the man an answer. "I don't know, we—"

"Fine," the man snapped. "I've got a cabin, a mile away from here; if you give me a ride, I'll let you and your boy stay for the night."

"A mile away?" David was baffled. "How come you're so far out?"

"Food. Plenty of mushrooms and berries in these woods." The man pointed at David's Mazda. You get in your car and I'll go back for my bag in the woods."

"Why did you help us?"

The man glared at David, as if he had just asked him the dumbest ever question. "You've got a boy. I couldn't just leave you two. I saw you both in the woods." The man held up his hands. "It's okay, I'm no pervert or nothing. I heard noises, and then saw you scuffling with one of them. I have a cabin in the woods, and a woman waiting for me. In hindsight, I should have brought my handgun."

He has a handgun?

David pointed at the dead walkers. "I think that's enough talk for now. Better go."

The stranger ran into the woods for his bag, and returned seconds later. David unlocked the car and both men got into the front and David gave Harry a gentle pat on his legs. "Well done. You were really brave."

Harry was relieved that his daddy was back and before he could ask about the new man, he introduced himself to David as Brian Davidson.

"Brian Davidson?" David had confusion on his face, as if he had heard that name before. "Where have I heard that name before?"

The stranger shrugged his shoulders. He had no idea what David was talking about.

David pulled away, realising that he had left his hammer in that ghoul's head, and as they passed the barn they could clearly see another three inside it. The others were too slow to get to the car and by the time the vehicle had disappeared around the windy, country lane, they had only reached as far as the middle of the road, opposite the barn.

Brian blew out his cheeks, and shook his head. "No wonder there were loads in there. They were feeding on some poor soul."
Chapter Twenty

Once David pulled the car into a spacious part of the woods, both men and Harry began walking. The not knowing that Jane and Sarah were safe was killing David, and his thoughts were beleaguered once more, hoping they were out of harm's way somewhere. Brian assured David his car would be safe, and he believed him.

David and Brian began to strike up a conversation, and David's passenger told him that he had been predicting this situation for years. Even way back when scientists started cloning, he was aware that medical science had gone too far, and feared what else scientists were going to tamper with, and possibly fuck up.

At the time, the media had no idea where this virus had originated, although there were nods in Asia's direction. Brian was certain that it could only be something that occurred in a laboratory, possibly a research centre, and the first victim came from within that centre.

In the beginning, Brian used to think: Surely a problem like this could have been contained and dealt with on the first day. But if they didn't know what it was, if it'd been covered up and everyone was in denial, then that would make the whole dilemma much harder to contain.

Brian was what some people would call a prepper. He was somebody who was waiting and prepared for this kind of situation. Although people back in the old world may have thought that Brian Davidson was insane, it was _he_ who was now having the last laugh—although he never seemed smug about the situation. But what bothered David was why this so-called prepper was without a car. This was a subject he was going to ask about at a later date, but now he was just relieved to be in a positive situation.

When they got near the cabin in the woods, David seemed impressed. At around twenty yards away from the cabin, in all directions, the place was surrounded by barbed wire, to stop intruders. The wire had been wrapped around tree trunks to achieve this, and they left a foot gap around the bottom for Brian to get in and out. Brian had told him that, so far, not one ghoul had come from the woods and had got itself stuck against the wire, but to remove them would seem to be a simple feat anyway.

David could see a pot of soup bubbling on a stove that seemed to be powered by one of the many gas canisters that Brian possessed. Waiting at the cabin was Brian's partner, Laura. She was a woman with long ginger hair, very thin; not David's type, but she seemed nice enough. Brian introduced the pair of them to Laura; she was very welcoming and seemed pleased to have different company.

David explained to Laura what he and Harry had gone through and promised that they would only stay one night, if that was acceptable. They all had soup, and then the exhausted father and son retired early to a room that was shown to them by Laura.

*

After a rest in an abandoned house, Helen Davies was on her feet again. Her bare feet strolled on the same dirt path that she and Carla used to take, before Jack was born. Her soles were becoming a little sore, but she tried to ignore the pain and looked out for the tree—not just any tree, but _the_ tree.

Helen Davies had only entered the woods a few minutes ago and already could feel a chill. The trees had their uses when it came to sheltering an individual from the pouring rain, but they also shielded her from the sun and were unable to stop the sneaky wind from filtering through.

She could hear a stream up ahead and knew that she was near.

Her feet continued to drag through the dirt path, and she thought that she should give her aching feet a break and walk through the soft bracken that was on either side of her, inbetween the trees. Paranoid of adders, as well as spring-coil animal traps that could have been lying dormant for months, she decided to stick to the path that was hurting her bare feet.

She walked for another minute and saw an apple tree by the brook. She was near. She hadn't been to this area in over a year, but she remembered that to the left of the apple tree was a ten-yard walk before she got to, what they called, _their_ tree.

She had made it, and it was still there.

Helen dropped to her knees and felt the engraving into the wood with the tips of her fingers. Her eyes began to fill up and she could see the carved heart into the bark with _I love you, Carla_ engraved inside the heart. Ever since she was a baby, Helen took her daughter up to the woods with her pushchair, and also for walks when she got older.

This seemed the perfect place to die.

Poignant.

She held out her wrist and placed the knife across it.

She couldn't do it. She threw her head back and sobbed; she stuck the knife into the ground and decided to close her eyes once she had calmed down.

It wasn't planned, but the exhausted woman had fallen asleep.
Chapter Twenty One

It was a new day.

David and Harry had slept soundlessly in the cabin, despite Brian's snoring in the next room. David had slept well and was awoken by the wildlife from the woods, mainly the birds tweeting in the trees.

Because they had gone to sleep earlier, David and young Harry had woken up before their hosts. David and Harry sneaked out of the cabin, not wanting to wake up Brian or Laura, and took in some fresh air.

Despite the place being reasonably secure—having a barbed wire perimeter and being in the middle of nowhere, David stayed close to his son, and they walked over to a tree stump and sat on it to take in the morning sunshine.

David could see that the barbed wire had been wrapped around the area four times, meaning that there were four strips, and the only way these things could get in was if they dropped to the floor and crawled underneath; but they lacked the intelligence for that, or so he hoped.

A few minutes later, Brian strolled out of the cabin, wearing all black—jogging bottoms and a T-shirt. He approached the father and son who were both sitting and sharing the stump, and Brian ruffled Harry's hair and patted David on the shoulder. He asked, "Sleep okay?"

"Brilliant. Thank you so much." David cleared his throat and announced, "We'll move on once we get some breakfast."

"You don't have to go anywhere. I've already discussed this with Laura when you two were asleep last night."

"But—"

"No buts," Brian snapped. "You're staying for as long as you want. This little man," he pointed to Harry, "needs a break."

"Thanks; I'm not sure."

"Whatever you want. Your call."

At this point, Harry walked over to the homemade barbed wire fence, and began losing himself in his own world, making airplane and gunfire noises whilst the adults continued to talk.

"You seem really well set up." David looked around the camp and stood up. "You got plenty of food and water?"

Brian nodded with a smile. "Also have a water filter, two replacements, detergent, plenty of toilet roll, a battery-powered radio and lamp, purification tablets, a cistern for collecting rainwater, plenty of gas, torch, some spare clothes, amongst other shit."

David looked aghast. "Generator?"

Brian smiled. "Gas, but we only use it in emergencies."

David laughed, "You really are a prepper. I didn't know whether to believe you in the car."

Brian smiled, and his soft eyes were warm, but said in a serious tone, "I don't bullshit, David. Not unless it's necessary."

David allowed a silence to cover both men. He released a sigh, leaned over and whispered to Brian, making sure his son couldn't hear, "My wife and daughter are missing. She went to a supermarket on the day it was announced, a couple of miles away, and they never came back. I was going to ask if you could look after the boy while I went out to look for them at this place. The not-knowing is fucking killing me."

"I could imagine." Brian's response seemed heartfelt, and added, "And if you get yourself killed, we're stuck with the boy?"

David began to think, shook his head and lowered it sadly. "It's selfish, I know. I wasn't thinking."

Brian pointed at the barbed wire around the area of the cabin. "This place is reasonably safe, and Laura knows how to take care of herself."

David looked at Brian, not knowing where he was going with his speech.

Brian added, "Leave Harry here, and I'll come with you. Straight to the supermarket and back, regardless whether we find them or not."

David's tears flowed and couldn't help himself. He hugged a clearly embarrassed Brian, and the muscular man gently pushed David away. "Get breakfast and we'll leave in the afternoon."

David asked, "How long have you been up here?"

Brian smiled. "In short, Laura and I have always known there was something wrong. Like I told you before, I've been preparing for this for years. Guns, batteries, a well, gas canisters—I've got the lot. I'll tell you all about it in detail one day, maybe. Just not now."

Brian walked away, headed back to the cabin, and began whistling a tune that David didn't recognise.

Harry walked back over to his dad, once the strange man had left to go back inside the cabin, and gave him a big hug.

"It's a lovely morning." David breathed in and could smell the greenery around him. Still hugging his boy, he looked to the side of him and saw Harry with his head lowered. All David could see was the back of his head and his strawberry blonde hair. David bit his lower lip and stroked the back of his boy's head. "What's the matter, sunshine?"

Harry slowly raised his head and David could see the tear stains on his plump cheeks, and his red eyes that were heartbreaking to see.

Harry finally answered, "I miss mummy and Sarah," he cried. "I want things to be normal. I want to go out on my scooter, play with Ryan, go back to my football practice on Tuesday, I..." Harry stopped producing words and placed his little warm hand on David's face, who was also struggling, emotionally.

"It's okay, son. It's okay."

Harry cried, "I do love you, daddy. But I want mummy to come back."

"So do I, son." David pulled Harry into him, and both father and son embraced and released their tears of sorrow and frustration. David kissed his boy on his hair and took a sniff. He still smelt the same when he was a baby.

David broke away from the embrace, but Harry continued to sob. Saltwater streamed down, his bottom lip puffed out, and his beautiful green eyes were soaked.

"My poor boy." David wiped the tears away gently with his thumbs. "My poor, sweet little boy."
Chapter Twenty Two

The August afternoon was a glorious sight to see. The sun was burning through the suffocating trees above, and the woods seemed alive with the vibrant sound of wildlife.

After much deliberation, David and Brian had decided that the trip to the supermarket, just on the outskirts of town, could benefit _both_ men: David could see if his wife and daughter were held up there, whilst Brian could get more supplies—although he had a few more weeks before he needed anything.

Brian also decided to take the opportunity to see if they had gas canisters in the camping department, providing it was safe to do so. The petrol station besides the supermarket would probably be a waste of time, he thought. With the power down, the pumps wouldn't run, and even if the power was up, he had a feeling they'd be dry by now.

Harry was outside by the barbed wire fence that encircled the area they were in, and he seemed to be caught up in his own little world, holding a twig in each hand and playing on the dirt. David didn't really want to tell him off for dirtying his clothes, as it seemed trivial, and he didn't want to disturb his little fantasy. David smiled and looked over to the cabin where Brian and Laura were having a heated discussion.

David guessed that the passionate talk had something to do with his and Harry's arrival. He walked over to the couple, and raised his hands in a _I come in peace_ gesture. He took a peep at Laura and said, "I know you're not happy with Brian coming with me, but I did insist on going alone. I just wanted Harry to be looked after while I was away."

"No offence, David." Laura began, "but we hardly know you and..." She never finished her sentence, but David could understand where she was coming from.

She had kindly taken in a man and his son overnight after her partner had helped them out, and now both men were going back to town, almost, and her partner was risking his life for people he didn't know for a second time.

"I don't like the idea," Laura moaned.

"I understand," David said and nodded in defeat.

"But he's going anyway," Laura sniffed.

David looked at the couple in surprise, and his eyes were thankful.

Added Laura, "My conscience wouldn't possibly allow you to go on your own. I don't like the idea of Brian going, but, no offence to you, _he_ can handle himself. And we can't have you going alone and having that," she pointed over to Harry, "little boy losing his father, can we?"

David felt like hugging the woman, but refrained from doing so. "Thanks."

Laura asked, "And what if you _do_ find your wife and daughter? What happens then?"

David knew exactly why Laura asked the questions. She wasn't a heartless person, but her partner bringing back two extra mouths to feed probably wasn't in their plan. And if their new guest found the rest of the family, does that mean they'd be six mouths to feed in all?

"If I find them, then I plan on going to my mum's a few miles away. Don't worry, I wouldn't stay any longer and burden you with my family. That wouldn't be fair."

Brian walked over to the two of them, released a breath out and said, "We'll be back before you know it." He leaned over and kissed Laura on the cheek as a way of saying cheerio.

Laura nodded, unconvincingly, and her head shook the once. David knew something else was bothering her and before he asked her, she had a question of her own that needed answering. "Why now?"

David didn't understand where she was coming from. "I'm sorry?"

Laura decided to elaborate on her query. "Brian told me that you lost your wife and your daughter in the first week, so why do you want to look for your wife now? Why didn't you go before?"

David turned around to gape over at Harry, and already the penny had dropped with Laura and Brian, but David explained anyway. "I didn't want to put Harry at risk. Outside of my street, I had no idea what was going to greet me. Not only that, leaving Harry on his own was something I couldn't do either."

Brian asked, "Would he freak?"

"Yes," added David. "Not only that, if I did run into ... _trouble_ , and was killed, then Harry would be left all on his own. His last days or weeks would be of starvation, total fear, and confusion on where his dad was. That thought alone stopped me from leaving the house altogether. We only left when there was absolutely no choice at all."

"Brian told me about your neighbours. And about the fire." Laura gave off a thin smile and asked, "And do you think your wife and daughter could still be at this supermarket?"

David lowered his head sadly and seemed to have taken an age to answer Laura's question. He said, "It's the only hope I've got. If her car is there, lying empty, there's a good chance that her and some other survivors are cooped up inside. But if it's not there, she could be anywhere."

"What about your mum's?"

"Nah." David shook his head. "I was in contact with my mum for the first few days and they had never heard from her."

"You two better go then. The quicker you go; the quicker you'll be back." Laura took a look at Brian, and they both hugged. Once their embrace was broken, she told him not to be a hero. David thanked Laura for her understanding, and told the two of them that he was going to explain to Harry that he was going out and he'd be back very soon.

David walked over towards his child that was lost in his own little world. He approached with caution, and although Harry knew the presence of his dad was a few yards away from him, he continued with his fantasy.

A minute later David cleared his throat. Harry turned around, almost annoyed that his playtime had been interrupted. "What is it?"

"I'm going out for a couple of hours now, sunshine."

Harry stared at his daddy with those large, wonderful green eyes. His eyes then narrowed, but he was lost for words.

"I'm going out with that kind man, Brian, who helped us out. We're going to get some food and stuff."

"I thought he had loads of food."

This remark stumped David. "We're going to get some more," was the only comment he could think of. He didn't want to tell Harry the truth, because he didn't want to raise his hopes. David could only imagine what it would do to his child if he told him he was going to look for his mummy and sister, to then come back empty-handed.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, son."

"Is a tree bigger than a shark?"

David smiled; he had no idea what was going on in that little head of his. "I don't know." David leant over and kissed Harry on the top of his head. "Laura will look after you while we're out. Be a good boy."

David could hear heavy footsteps behind him and then felt a hand slap him on the shoulder.

"Ready when you are," Brian growled and shoved a handgun down the front of his jeans.
Chapter Twenty Three

Brian was sitting in the passenger seat of the Mazda whilst David pulled away into the country road. Both men seemed on edge, especially David, and the silent drive was too much for Brian Davidson. "Okay, here's a question to lighten the mood," Brian began. "Would you rather go down on your granddad, or your grandma go down on _you_?"

David looked at his passenger and said with bemusement in his voice, "I'm sorry. Is this a serious question?"

Brian laughed, "Just curious."

"You don't talk like this when Laura's around."

Brian winked at his driver and answered, "Of course not. She'd have my balls in a jar. But you're a guy. It's been a while since I've had man-company. That's what we do, us men; we talk shite. Leave the serious shit to the women. So what do you think?"

"About the question?"

"Yep."

David was too nervous to be amused by Brian's attempt at humour. "I'd rather do neither. Let's talk about something else."

"Okay," Brian said with a smirk. "Would you rather fuck a man with a vagina, or get fucked by a woman with a penis?"

"I'm serious, Brian. I'm nervous as hell going to this supermarket."

"Okay." David's passenger raised his hands apologetically, then immediately changed the subject. "First thing I'm gonna do is steal me a decent motor."

"When was your vehicle stolen?"

"About two weeks ago," Brian sniffed. "Don't get me wrong; there was nothing of value inside it, and I had no plan on using it, as we've got everything we need, but you don't know when you need a quick escape. Hopefully, I can get one at the supermarket, and we can drive back in a vehicle each."

"Absolutely," began David. "It must have been frustrating to have it pinched."

"That's the only trouble with being situated in the woods; there's not much of a hiding place for a car. I covered it in branches and stuff, but it was still exposed. Fuckers must have taken it during the night."

They drove in silence for a minute after Brian had finished his mild rant, and David decided to go the long route to the supermarket, the country way, rather than heading back into town where potential dangers lurked.

It wasn't just the dead that were a threat; some of the living were beginning to show desperate acts of violence for survival _and_ pleasure.

David felt safe alongside Brian, and the Glock 17 stuck in the front of his jeans was also something that made David feel relaxed. He didn't ask where he'd got the gun, or about his past. David was taking Brian and Laura how they were now, and they seemed like good, kind people, but at the same time, he guessed that they were individuals that were no pushovers if ever they were crossed.

"Here we are." Brian pointed up ahead at the supermarket that was situated in the countryside, on the outskirts of the small town of Hardridge. The only other thing that was situated near it was an empty McDonald's restaurant. David had only been to this supermarket twice; it was a place that Jane went for the groceries, mainly.

It had everything under one roof, not just food, but garden utensils, toys, sports accessories, a medical centre amongst many others. It was built ten years ago, and it was perfect for such a small town that had to wait decades for a Pizza Hut, but not so good for local businesses that relied on the tiny population of Hardridge to give themselves an adequate income. Businesses soon folded once the supermarket was opened, and were replaced with charity shops.

As soon as David veered the Mazda left, and they entered the huge car park, they saw that there were about thirty cars in the three hundred places that were available. David pulled the car right outside the entrance of the supermarket's doors. There was no sign of carnage, and it was quiet; _too_ quiet. Both men took a look at one another and didn't know what to do next.

They nodded at one another and stepped out of the vehicle. David couldn't see Jane's car from where he was standing, but frantically craned his neck to see if he could even see a vehicle that was the same colour as his wife's. Seeing the concern on his face, Brian said, "Look, if they're here, they're going to be inside anyway. That's where the supplies are."

David nodded his head in agreement. Brian was thinking more rationally and made sense. Noticing for the first time that David wasn't carrying a weapon of some sort, Brian added, "We're gonna have to go to the hardware section and get you a crowbar."

"I thought I had a crowbar somewhere in the car." David scratched his head in confusion.

"Have you killed many of these things before?"

David nodded. "A few, but I'd rather not."

"Me too," Brian sniggered. "I don't enjoy doing this, you know. Well ... maybe a little."

From the back of his jeans, Brian pulled out a hunter's knife and noticed that David was glaring at him in confusion. "Something the matter?"

"You've got a gun."

"I know." Brian tapped the front of his jeans where his Glock was tucked in. "But I'm not gonna use Glenda unless I have to."

"Glenda?"

"These things are attracted to sound, and with this supermarket you have over twenty aisles. We don't know what's around every corner, but if there's so much as a gunshot, then we'll get the whole dead population inside making their way to us."

"You used that thing before?" David pointed at the bulge of the Glock that was hidden under Brian's T-shirt.

"Absolutely. I love my shotgun, but this is my baby." Brian pulled it out of his jeans to show David, and added, "The Glock has three built-in safety catches, and the pistol can be kept fully-loaded with a round in the chamber—even when it is in the holster."

David nodded satirically. "I have no idea what that means. Does it work?"

Brian snickered, "Don't worry, Glenda works just fine."

Both men began to walk to the already-opened entrance doors to the place, and David said, "You never know; there might not be any of these things in here."

"True." Brian nodded, then pointed over to the health aisle to their left where a body lay on the floor. Blood pooled around the corpse and it appeared that it had been eaten by a group of the dead. There wasn't much left for it to reanimate and the head had almost been pulled away from its body. "I doubt it, though."

David stopped walking on the ground floor, and looked up to see a balcony that consisted of offices and a staff room. Were Jane and Sarah in there?

Seeing that he was anxious, Brian suggested that they should check the first floor first, and then get supplies. "At least if we go upstairs first, we can see the view of the ground floor and see how many of those fuckers are hanging about."

Both men began walking up the defunct escalator to the clothes section that seemed clear. They bypassed the section and headed straight for the balcony that overlooked the ground floor. It appeared to be clear, unbelievably, and the two men now peered into the offices through the glass windows. There was the expected mess in the place, as if people had left in a hurry, but there were no signs of blood or bodies.

Brian approached the wooden door beside the offices. It was the last thing to check before heading for the supplies on the ground floor. Brian urged David to stay back whilst he tried the door. It was locked. He then placed his ear against the door. He could hear some movement behind it and took a look at David.

"What is it?" David whispered, his body was vibrating with fear.

"There's something inside."

"People?"

Brian never answered David straight away, and knocked on the door. He jumped once he heard hands slam against it, as well as the unmistakeable groaning sound that the dead produced. Brian then turned to David. "Definitely not people."

With tears in his eyes, and expecting the worst-case scenario, David told Brian, "Open it."

"There might be a fair few in there."

"I don't care. I need to know if my family are in there, dead or not."

Brian nodded and put his knife back. "Seem as though the ground floor is empty, I'll just use Glenda. Be safer that way anyway."

Brian sighed in defeat, ready to kick the door in. He pulled the slide back, chambering a round, and prepared the Glock for a massacre.
Chapter Twenty Four

"Ready?"

Brian was waiting on an answer from David.

David shook his head. "Not really, but it needs to be done."

Brian smiled, and chuckled, "Just take a few yards back and watch them fall like sacks of shit."

Brian pushed down the handle of the staff room; David walked backwards and was now a good five yards from Brian and the place he was about to open. Both men were expecting to have a small group spilling out of the room and onto the balcony, but as soon as Brian pushed open the door and took a few quick steps backwards, nothing came out.

Both men looked at one another.

They were expecting a completely different outcome altogether.

Brian raised his hand at David, gesturing him to keep well back, something David didn't have a problem with, and took a peek inside the room. It took a while, but once his senses were assaulted by the smell of death in the room, Brian pulled his T-shirt up over his nose and continued to gape in the staff room.

The place was basic, and had a table and chairs, a sink, a kettle, microwave, and a coffee machine. There were two ghouls that were still able to move. Both were dressed in the same uniform, which suggested that they worked in the place. One was a female that had her back to Brian, facing the wall. Another was male, on the floor, and was slowly crawling its way across the linoleum to get to Brian once the man had been clocked by its milky eyes. Its legs were intact, but it looked as if it had somehow fallen and couldn't remember how to get back to its feet.

Brian noticed that on the right hand side of the wall lay a body that seemed to have been torn apart. The head had been removed and the stomach seemed to have been the main target, with entrails scattered over the floor like thick bloody spaghetti.

Brian pulled his T-shirt down and ushered David to stand next to him, and he did what he was told, although apprehensively, and David nearly retched when the smell of death hit him. Brian then placed his arm around David's shoulder and whistled at the female ghoul that had its back to them, like an individual would beckon a dog. It slowly turned around to reveal its hideous features and Brian asked, "Is that your wife?"

David shook his head and gulped, "No. Thank god."

"Good," sniffed Brian, and pointed at the remains in the corner of the room. "So that means those leftovers don't belong to your little girl."

David turned away to vomit over the balcony; the puke hit the ground floor with a loud splatting noise, and Brian had now aimed the Glock and prepared it to fire. David jumped in fright when Brian put one round into the head of the crawler, making surprisingly little mess, and he waited a few seconds for the female ghoul to get nearer before putting it out if its misery with a single bullet to the middle of its forehead.

Brian then shut the door and asked David if he was okay. David nodded unconvincingly, his ears ringing from the gunshots, still looking pale. Both men made their way to the clothes department.

"Get some bags and fill them," ordered Brian. "We'll take them back to the car and then we can go back in and start filling a trolley each with whatever food's left. We'll check the car park for your family before we leave."

David didn't respond to Brian's instruction. He just followed his lead in silence.

Once clothes, for both men and for Laura and Harry, had been stashed in the backseat of David's car, they returned to the supermarket, with David still peering around, searching for Jane's Renault.

Noticing this, Brian said, "We'll have a look before we leave, but I reckon she's somewhere else, a friend's maybe."

"She couldn't leave Harry."

"True." Brian was trying his best to put some positive light on the topic. "But it depends on how bad it was here during the first days. The road back to your house could have been impossible to drive on with these freaks about. And your wife wouldn't want to put your little girl in any unnecessary danger."

David rubbed his hands over his face, exasperation taking its toll. "I don't know what to think. There're too many scenarios that could have happened."

"Okay," Brian stopped walking and placed each palm of his hand on David's shoulders. "If you were Jane, where would you go if you saw people turning on one another?"

It took a while for David to give Brian an answer. "At first ... I'd stay in the supermarket, or hide in the car."

"And after a couple of days, weeks, once the worst of it was over?"

David shrugged his shoulders, and was already tiring of these pointless questions. "Back to my house?"

"And if it was too dangerous to go to yours?"

David sighed, "Is there actually a point to all of this?"

"Just answer the question."

"Then I'd go to a friend's ... or ... somewhere." David was unsure, and then said with widened eyes, "I lost contact with my parents after three days, but maybe Jane stayed here for that length of time, _then_ went to my mum's, in desperation."

"Now you're thinking. They may have stayed here, or somewhere else, for a while, maybe stocked the car up with food, slept in the car, and finally decided to go somewhere familiar once the carnage had died down. But _you_ can try your mum's tomorrow, when you're fresh."

David nodded, and a smile almost broke out over his face. "You're right. There're so many things that could have happened." Although David felt a little more positive now, there was still the possibility that his wife and daughter were also dead.

"I could come with you to your mum's in the morning. That's if you want." Brian was doing his best to keep David in a positive mood. "And if Jane's there, I can make my own way back, on foot, if I can't get a car."

"Thanks." David was beginning to feel a little emotional. "But you've done enough already, and I'm sure Laura will have something to say about that. Even if she's not there, me and Harry will stay at my mum's until things get better. Thanks for the offer before, but it's not fair to burden you and Laura with our presence."

"Whatever." Brian decided not to question David and inform him that his mother could also be dead. He then looked ahead and pointed at the line of trolleys. "Just the tins. Any fruit or meat that's left will be rotten anyway."

They both grabbed a trolley each and both walked back inside.
Chapter Twenty Five

David finally got a crowbar from the hardware section and was now in the sports area with Brian, grabbing MRPs and protein bars. They then placed their T-shirts over their noses as they passed the fruit section, most of the stuff that was left was rotten, and filled their trolleys within minutes. They walked past the alcohol aisle that looked like it had already been raided with roughly only a fifth of the products left. Brian turned to David and said, "It's tempting, but we need to keep our wits about us at all times."

David nodded in agreement, and the thought of consuming alcohol had never crossed his mind anyway.

Once both trolleys were full from the almost-empty shelves of the supermarket, with tins of fruit, tuna, beans and soup, as well as MRPs, protein bars, bottled water and two more gas canisters, it was time to move.

Everything was going so fast that David's head was beginning to pound. His thoughts went to Dixie and the way she was killed. And where did those bastards take her daughter who was thrown into the back of the van like she was nothing? Thinking back was beginning to affect David and he jumped when he heard Brian shout, "David! Stay with me!"

"What?"

Brian shook his head disapprovingly, almost with anger in his face. "You were miles away. Keep focused."

Brian was right, and David accepted his reprimand. One slip of concentration could decide whether Harry would still have a father by the end of the week.

They stepped out of the supermarket, both pushing a heavy trolley each, and headed for David's Mazda. Once the car was loaded up, David kept a hold of the crowbar and they both noticed four ghouls shambling in the far distance. Brian pointed over to a jeep and told David he was going to try and hotwire the vehicle.

David had no idea of Brian's background. He owned a Glock, and knew how to hotwire a car. What else? However dark or illegal Brian's past had been, David felt he and Laura were a nice couple and knew that he and Harry owed them, Brian especially.

It appeared that Brian was struggling to get into the jeep, let alone hotwire the thing, and David guessed that stealing cars wasn't Brian's speciality. David walked over to Brian to see how he was getting on, but then suddenly clocked the colour of a car that was the same colour as Jane's.

He could only see a few inches of the front, as it was parked next to a large Subaru jeep, and, almost magnetically, he began walking towards the car, very slowly. He clocked the registration plate and his heart sped up to an unbelievable pace when he saw that it was Jane's car.

With a mixture of excitement and trepidation, he felt sick, and slowly continued to walk the remaining twenty yards needed to get to the vehicle.

"For fuck's sake!" David heard Brian cuss, who was now _in_ the jeep, but was struggling to get it started.

Ignoring Brian, David continued with his slow stroll and after ten yards had been achieved, he felt a slap on his shoulder, making him scream out. He turned around, almost striking Brian with the crowbar in his right hand.

"Jesus," snapped David. "You scared me half to death."

"Where the fuck are you going?" Brian looked dumbfounded that David was walking away. "I thought I told you to stay focused. This ain't the time to go on any kind of walk, you know."

David pointed at the Renault Clio and couldn't find the words.

"Is _that_ your wife's car?" asked Brian, solemnly.

David nodded; still no words.

Brian peered in from ten yards away, and couldn't see anybody from the distance he was at. "Shall we check it out together?"

David shook his head and said, "I'll go alone."

"Are you sure? It might not be safe."

Ignoring Brian's remark, David strolled the remaining ten yards needed to get to the side of the car, with Brian hanging back, Glock at the ready. David could see that the windows of the car were stained red a little, and this diluted any excitement he had and was now fearing the worst.

Now he was at the car, it was clear that smeared blood on the inside of the windows was present, and he felt the huge lump in his throat almost strangle him, making it a struggle to breathe. His disbelieving eyes peered in to see Jane in the driver's seat of the car, but she wasn't Jane anymore. She was one of ... them!

"Oh shit. Oh god." David placed the palms of his hands against the passenger window and saw the condition Jane was in. Her face was ashen; the left side of her neck had been bitten, and she was wearing the same clothes when she left the house over four weeks ago, suggesting she had been here all this time.

David broke down and the tears streamed down his cheeks, his knees buckled and a sharp pain stretched across his chest.

He yelped out when a head appeared from the back passenger side. It didn't growl or snarl at him, it just stared blankly with its milky eyes. David placed his hand over his quivering lips, and gently placed his other hand on the window, as if he wanted to touch the face of the thing. "Sarah," he sobbed. "Oh, Sarah."

He glared at his reanimated daughter. She looked awful, and suddenly his attention went away from his wife who was writhing in the seat and trying to crawl her way over to her husband to rip him apart. His full attention was on his deceased daughter, and he was desperate to touch her, to hold her, to tell her it was okay and that daddy was here. But she was gone. She was dead. And this thing didn't recognise that David was daddy anymore, it just saw something that it could devour.

Despite the body that used have Sarah's spirit, it was now possessed with something different and something more sinister, and if she managed to get out of the vehicle they seemed to be both trapped in, David would be attacked without a doubt.

How did this happen?

One of them, if not both, must have been attacked and then Jane must have locked them both in the car. But why didn't she drive off?

Because it was her that was bitten first?

It was the only explanation. She must have passed out, reanimated inside the car whilst Sarah was screaming, then was attacked by her own mother. It was the only thing that made sense.

David fell to his knees and sobbed so hard he thought his heart was going to break in two. For a moment he didn't care if it did, then he thought of Harry. His sweet little boy.

He needed to live.

He needed to live for him.

What was he going to tell him?

_How_ was he going to tell him?

Brian gently placed his hand on David's shoulder. "I'm sorry, David. I know this is a terrible time, but we've really gotta go."

David stood up, turned around and saw through blurry eyes a few ghouls scattered across the left side of the car park, stumbling towards them.

"Fuck knows where they crawled out from," Brian added.

David turned back to the car and said, "I can't leave them like this."

"Get in your car." Brian lifted his Glock and said, "We really have to go ... now."

"No, I-I-I can't."

Brian glared at David, and snarled, "We need to move. I know this is tough—"

"But I can't leave them in there like that," David cried.

Brian agreed and took a gander at his handgun. "I agree. They deserve better than that."

Almost as if he knew what Brian was thinking, and with time _not_ on their side, David whispered, "Okay." He then turned his back on Brian. "Make it clean."

"I'll smash one of the windows in with my elbow."

Although David had managed to walk over to the Mazda, he couldn't feel his legs. He felt like he was floating, and slumped in the passenger seat and placed his hands over his ears to drown out the two gunshots that Brian was about to release.

He then thought of Harry.

His little heart was going to break once he was told the truth. He had to tell him. He couldn't allow him to linger on in hope that his mum and Sarah would eventually return. Confident that Brian had finished what he was doing, he removed his hands from his ears.

"God, I'm sorry," cried David, and was thinking about how Harry was going to take the news. "I'm so sorry, my little sunshine."
Chapter Twenty Six

Brian jumped into the driver's side of the car and took the keys off of David. He strapped himself in, fired the engine and reversed out quickly. The wheels squealed as they shot off and headed for the car park's exit, and Brian turned to look at David who was staring out the passenger window. "You okay?" Brian asked the stupid question; it was all he could think of to say.

David never answered, and continued to glare out of the window, suffocated with shock and grief.

Brian reluctantly said, "If it's any consolation—"

"I know," David interjected with anger in his voice, still staring out of the passenger window. "They were already dead. I get it."

"Right, it might get a bit bumpy," Brian warned.

David faced the front and gazed ahead to see what Brian was talking about _._

It might get a bit bumpy?

He could see half a dozen creatures by the entrance and exit of the car park and began putting his seatbelt on, something Brian had already done.

"Is this car new?" asked Brian.

"Just ram them."

"Nah, fuck it. If the car's fucked, not only will we be on foot, but we'll lose all the food in the back."

Brian stopped the car ten yards from the ghouls at the exit, unbuckled himself, and then stepped out of the vehicle.

"What're you doing?" David had no idea what Brian was planning on doing.

Brian peered into the car and said, "I'm gonna pick them off one-by-one. I won't be long." He then shut the door and left David alone.

Brian walked forwards a few yards, and stared at the dead. He aimed his gun, and waited for the closest one to step towards him a few more yards; once it did, Brian then fired the first shot. Once the bullet entered the skull, David could see, from the passenger seat, a little blood escaping from the back of its head. It then collapsed in a heap, and it appeared that the gunshot had woken the other five ghouls, as they were now approaching Brian with a little more zest in their strides.

Brian whispered to his Glock, "Right, Glenda. Don't let me down." He was in no rush and took careful aim at each of his targets. Each ghoul went down with one bullet each to the head, with the exception of the final one.

Brian could see that the remaining being was stumbling around its other five fallen comrades, and it looked like it used to be a teenage girl. She wore a green summer dress, now blood-soaked, and her legs were the same colour as milk, still wearing her pink flip-flops.

From the passenger seat, David also looked at the young girl. David then thought about her parents. With losing Sarah, it made him realise that he wasn't alone. Although it wasn't helping with the agonising grief that was consuming him, it dawned on him that thousands of parents had lost their kids over the last month or so, and vice-versa.

David continued to glare out with his tear-soaked eyes and saw that, for whatever reason, whether it was the thrill of the situation or to just to make absolutely sure, Brian had rapidly fired three shots at the young girl from close range. Some of her head fell away, and she dropped to the floor in a heap.

Brian glared at the corpse, the realisation of what he had just done sinking in, and lowered his gun. His breathing was shallow, and although he was no stranger to violence in the old world, Brian stared at the last fallen creature that used to be somebody's daughter, friend, and sister, possibly. The scene of the defunct female ghoul had forced Brian into a world of self-hypnosis as he thought about every other female family member that had been lost over the last few weeks. Was he now in delayed shock?

He snapped out of his daydreaming, and before he had chance to return to David's car, he felt a pair of icy hands around the back of his neck. He jumped in fright, yelped out, and could hear something snarling only inches away from his neck, as if it was about to take a chunk out of him.

Brian turned around to see that he was only a foot away from the hideous, revolting thing. One of its eyes were missing from its pale face, and its lips had been ripped away, revealing almost the full state of its rotten dentures that were close to tearing into his deltoid. Before he had time to raise his Glock, a stunned and shocked Brian Davidson saw the metal from behind pummel the skull of his attacker.

It received whack after whack, five in all, and eventually fell to the floor with some of its head missing. Standing in front of Brian's vision was David Johnson. The crowbar was a sticky mess, and Brian's saviour gave him a thin smile.

"I'm sorry," apologised David, with the crowbar now lowered. "I never saw it until a few seconds ago. I was daydreaming; I was miles away."

"It's okay. That's understandable, considering what you're going through." Brian looked at the creature that David had destroyed. Brian looked shaken, and this surprised the usually-tough individual. "Shit. I should be fucking dead." Brian then turned to David. "You wasn't the only one that was miles away, and only a few minutes ago I was telling _you_ to keep sharp. Need to start taking some of my own advice."

David looked at the dead female that had spooked Brian. Why did this particular one stop Brian in his tracks? Did she remind him of someone?

"Do me a favour?" Brian looked sheepish with his request.

"Anything."

"Don't tell Laura about this. She'll fucking freak."

"Okay."

"Let's go." Brian placed his shaking hand on David's shoulder. He nodded over to the Renault Clio where David's daughter and wife were now finally resting, "I'm sorry about... It was quick..."

Seeing that Brian was struggling for words, David spoke with a lump in his throat. "They've been dead a month. I told Jane to be careful. I told her about the escalating violence in the city, but she said it was a load of hogwash. Even on the day it was announced, on the Thursday, people were still walking their dogs, going to work, off to the gym..."

"Going to the supermarket," added Brian, and took a look around the car park.

"Yeah. Why didn't they do anything sooner?"

"The government?"

David nodded.

"To avoid social panic." Brian then said with sarcasm, "Now, we can't upset our fragile economy, can we? That would be wrong."

"Fuckers."

"I agree. I bet they're sitting in a nice, warm underground facility while we, people, are out here, getting ripped to pieces. But if you keep on thinking about it, it'll tear you up inside. We need to get on with it the best we can. It's shite, but it is what it is."

David broke down and Brian felt awkward. The man had just lost his wife and daughter, but he still couldn't bring himself to comfort him.

Brian simply patted David on the shoulder and announced, "I'll drive back," and both men got inside.

"I'm sorry you didn't get a car." David was now trying his best to compose himself.

"Fuck it," huffed Brian. "Don't really need one anyway. They're more trouble than they're worth. Probably get stolen eventually, plus a vehicle at the side of a country road also advertises the fact that there could be people in the woods."

David nodded. It appeared that Brian had thought of everything. "That's a good point."

The Mazda pulled away, and both men made the journey out into the countryside in absolute silence.
Chapter Twenty Seven

Ten minutes after leaving the supermarket, the Mazda pulled up on the country road, and once they parked the vehicle where Brian used to place his own, before it was stolen, they stepped out of the car and began emptying their means of transport.

It took three trips in all to the cabin and back to empty the car, and both men were physically and mentally exhausted. Both minds of the men were polluted with fear. Brian had nearly lost his life due to his lack of concentration, whereas David had found out that the only two girls in the world that mattered to him were dead.

The men dumped the supplies by the cabin whilst making their trips, which included crawling under the barbed-wire, and on their third and final trip Laura and Harry were standing outside, waiting to greet the men.

Harry looked delighted to see his dad and both man and boy hugged. Laura also seemed pleased to see Brian, and he appeased her and told her that the trip went without a hitch.

Once the car had been emptied and the supplies sitting outside the cabin had been stored away by Brian and Laura, David and Brian went back and covered the vehicle the best they could with branches and leaves. After this had been done and the men had returned to the area, Laura and Brian went inside the cabin to leave father and son alone, outside the camp.

When Brian was inside the cabin with Laura, he began to tell her about the finding of David's wife and daughter, but decided to leave out the part about nearly being taken down. She didn't need to know that.

Outside, David fought back the tears and looked at the little man who stood staring back at his dad.

Where did time go? What happened to the baby that David used to bathe? What happened to the toddler that always used to take his blue dummy out of his mouth when he was being carried upstairs to bed, to then throw it downstairs, making David go back and get it? What happened to the little fellow who screamed down the house when David had accidentally trapped the little one's fingers in the bathroom door?

Harry was only three at the time, and David felt terrible for days when it happened. Harry had his fingers in the door when David had shut it, and once the three-year-old began screaming down the house, all David did was run about in panic, whereas Jane was calm and immediately took him to the accident and emergency department, leaving David at home, distraught. The overall outcome was: nothing broken, just bruising. For years after, Harry would remind David of the incident.

Harry was only seven years old, and David hoped—no, he prayed that he would continue to grow into a young man, despite the new world that he now had to live in.

David went over to Harry, placed his hand on his shoulder, and both males sat down on the tree stump. David was crammed with guilt. All that trauma, time and hospital treatments of IUIs and IVFs just to bring the little man into a world like _this_!

I'm sorry I brought you into this world. I'm so sorry that you have to grow up without your sister and mummy. I'm so sorry that your old world of going to school, the fair, soft-play, going out with your friends on your scooter, playing on your Batman Lego game and everything else, has been removed from your life. And I'm sorry that we're now going to live hand to mouth, be confronted by flesh-eating monsters, as well as desperate and sadistic humans that would harm anything in their way for a little food or gas.

That's what David wanted to say, but he kept that in his head. He needed to protect Harry, not break down into a mess and scare his son half to death.

David cleared his throat, trying to put Jane and Sarah into the back of his mind, if it was possible, and asked Harry with a tight throat, "Did you miss me, son?"

Harry looked up at his dad, and was unsure how to answer. He answered, "Yes." David wasn't sure that he had missed him that much, despite the welcomed hug when he returned, and thought that the little man had said yes so that he wouldn't hurt his dad's feelings.

Harry said, "Laura's nice."

"She seems lovely," agreed David.

For a moment both males had prematurely ran out of things to say. David picked at his neglected teeth with his little finger, whilst Harry swung his arms. Eventually, it was up to the seven-year-old to break the silence. "Daddy?"

"Yes."

"Where're we gonna go later on?"

Said David, "I thought that maybe we could go and see if grandma's at her house."

He could see Harry smile, and hoped that he was not getting too excited. If David's parents had turned into those freaks, or the street was too dangerous to enter, it could turn out to be a damp squib for both father and son. "But she might not be there," David added, trying to dilute any excitement that Harry was feeling.

The images of Jane and Sarah began to ambush his thoughts once again, and David knew that if he didn't have Harry, he'd be begging Brian to put a bullet through his head to put him out of this torment.

He had never felt pain like it.

It wasn't like a cut to the arm or breaking a bone. It was a pain from within him that seemed to be growing, and snowballing as if his insides were being twisted and there was nothing that could be done _but_ deal with it. Putting on a brave face for his boy was proving to be difficult.

He had to tell him one day. He knew that. But David wanted to grieve and come to terms with the double-loss himself, so when it was time to tell Harry, he could be strong for his son, rather than the pair of them breaking down together and both being an emotional mess.

"Are you okay, daddy?"

"I'm fine, son. I'm fine." David tried his best to be strong. He knew children weren't stupid and could pick up on negative vibes, and Harry was no different, which was probably why he asked that question in the first place.

"This is rubbish, isn't it?"

David smiled and said, "Well, that's one way of describing it. Are you missing your games?"

Harry nodded, took a deep breath in and looked around the greenery. "Look." He pointed ahead of him, and for a moment David's heart sped up. He was expecting another encounter with the dead. It wasn't Harry's fault, but his sudden outburst made his dad scared. Harry pointed at a grey squirrel scampering down a tree that had barbed wire wrapped around it.

"I hope he doesn't get caught in this." Young Harry pointed all around at the homemade barbed-wire perimeter that Brian had created to protect the cabin from wandering deadheads.

A silence enveloped father and son for the second time, and they remained both sitting on the large tree stump.

Out of the blue, Harry announced, "I miss mummy and Sarah."

"Me too, son. Me too." David dug his top teeth into his chin, just below his lower lip, in a desperate attempt to stop himself from crying. He didn't want Harry to be concerned and wondering why his daddy was so upset.

Harry's head gently lay on David's shoulder. David sniffed his son's head and planted a gentle kiss on it; he then felt Harry's warm hand stroke his forearm. There was no mummy and no Sarah anymore. It was just the two of them now, and David Johnson held his son tightly and didn't want to let him go.

He was all he had left.
Chapter Twenty Eight

"I hate doing this," David snapped.

David thanked Brian for the offer of staying longer at the cabin, but had decided to try his mum's. Brian and Laura told them to come back whenever they wanted.

He helped Harry into his booster seat and the little boy strapped himself in. The main reason why David Johnson never ventured outdoors with his son in tow in the first place was because of the potential dangers that lurked around, quite literally, every corner.

The journey to his mum's was a short journey, and even though Brian offered to go with David and Harry, as added muscle, David politely declined his offer. The thought of Brian then having to walk back, alone—which was more than likely, as Brian Davidson had proved that his car-thieving skills were pretty poor—influenced David's decision.

With the exception of the occasional creature stumbling about, the journey to his mum's was relatively straightforward. Only the once David had to swerve his Mazda around a lone ghoul that had stumbled out into the road, and that was as much excitement there was.

This time, for the short journey, David had told Harry that he could keep his eyes open if he wanted. David didn't think there was much point trying to protect his son from seeing the dead anymore, as he was more than likely going to be growing up as a young man with these things probably lurking in the background.

It seemed strange that the presence of these ghouls could be considered normal in a few years' time. However, David was certain the dead were eventually going to fall to pieces, quite literally, and the main threat would come from desperate and vindictive humans.

This outbreak was just over a month old and already he had witnessed savagery by a nefarious family. He was also fearful that normal families would eventually be leaving their barricaded homes to do despicable things, to feed their own. This is where he thought that Brian had been extremely clever. Not only was he and Laura stocked up with supplies, but they were also well-hidden and out of the way of populated areas.

Although David's small town of Hardridge and his mother's village of Haywood were small in population, he still feared what it was going to be like in another month's time. He knew from watching the TV, in the first weeks, that cities were experiencing massacres of thousands; he still thought that at least some cities, especially London, were probably getting some kind of help with quarantines and aid, whereas villages and towns north of London were being left to fend for themselves.

A lot of people must have guessed this, because in the first days the motorways to the south were grid-locked, and it was reported that a lot of people eventually abandoned their cars and began walking. Most of the people who thought that walking was their only option left were eventually taken down.

Once David entered his mum's village, his birthplace, he turned left into her small street and breathed out a relieved sigh when the street was barren.

"I've missed grandma and granddad," said Harry with excitement in his voice.

_Don't build your hopes up, son_.

Now, David had a problem. Does he leave his son in the car, leaving him exposed, and search the house himself? Or, does he take Harry with him, and allow his son to potentially witness his grandparents reanimated?

Taking Harry with him into the house, or leaving him in the back of the car, was going to put him in danger, whatever he did. David decided to take Harry with him.

"Right, son." David switched the engine off and turned around so his son could see his face. "We're going into grandma's house." David took the key out of the car and checked to see if he still had his mum's key on his key-ring. It was there, and David added, "You need to stay behind me and not make a single sound. Understand?"

Harry nodded. "Don't worry, daddy. If one of those monsters are in there, I'll punch one right in the face, like Batman does, and—"

"Just listen, sunshine." David was becoming exasperated, and tried to keep his emotions in check. The thought of Jane and Sarah began to plague his mind once again, and he apologised to his son. He added, "We're going to go inside and I'm going to take that crowbar," David pointed to the tool on the passenger seat, "to protect us. I want you to stay behind me, hold onto my T-shirt with both hands, and keep your eyes closed. Got it?"

Harry stared at his father and had no expression on his face.

"Son, do you understand?"

"Yes, Daddy," Harry Johnson finally answered.

David took a deep breath in and blew out his cheeks. "Right. Time to go."

"Daddy?"

David had his hand on the handle, ready to exit his vehicle. He turned around to his son, and sighed impatiently, "What now?"

Harry's eyes were bloodshot and his lower lip wobbled. "I'm ... I'm scared."

"Oh, son." David shook his head at himself for being so impatient. "God, I must be the worst dad in the world."

David then thought about if his parents had reanimated and were wandering on the ground floor. This would scar Harry and would also put him in unnecessary danger.

David couldn't think. He changed his mind.

"Okay, I've changed my mind. This is what's going to happen, sunshine. You listening?"

Harry nodded.

"I want you to unbuckle yourself and crouch down between your seat and the passenger seat, and hide. Do you think you could do that?"

Again, Harry nodded with no emotion on his face.

"And I want you to stay like that until I come back. Don't worry, I'll lock the car as soon as I leave the vehicle."

"Okay."

"Remember rule number..." David couldn't remember the rules from the blackboard in Sarah's room.

"It's rule number five, daddy: Always do what dad says," said Harry.

"That's the one." David winked, and then grabbed the crowbar off of the passenger seat. The father could feel himself getting emotional and asked his son to crouch down as he left the vehicle.

Harry did what he was told, and David left the car, locked it with his key fob, and went towards the front door of the house he grew up in. He then leaned his head against the door and broke down. For minutes he released tears for his wife and his five-year-old girl, and once he managed to compose himself, he took out his keys and slowly opened the door, gripping the crowbar with his other hand.

He was preparing himself for the worst.
Chapter Twenty Nine

The door opened slowly, and he carefully peered in to make sure there wasn't anything untoward on the ground floor. He shut the door behind him, gazed at the frosted glass in the door and remembered the time he was a teenager when he ran towards the house, tripped over the step and his arm went through the glass. He took a look at his left arm to see the small scar still there, sitting just above his left elbow, just to prove that it really _did_ happen and he wasn't in some kind of surreal nightmare.

The first room to greet David, once in the house, was the kitchen, and straight ahead of him was a door that led into the living room. David peered as best he could through the frosted glass of the living room, and as far as his eyes could make out, there were no entities in there.

Once established that the ground floor of the small terraced house was clear, he felt a little relief. He opened the living room door and walked straight through the room to the door that led to the stairs. Again, he could see that nothing was behind the door and opened it confidently and took a gape upstairs. He was going to call out, but refrained from doing so. If they were in, he was certain that they were on the first floor as the attic was tiny and it was hard to move in the place, even when it was empty.

Gripping the metal bar with both of his clammy hands, he took a second to climb every step, and once he reached the landing, he could see four closed doors.

He tried the spare room to his left first, but placed his ear against it, listening out for movement. His head remained there for ten seconds before hesitantly trying the door. He peeked inside to see it was how it always was, although the room desperately needed some fresh air, and he closed the door slowly and gently before approaching the door that used to be his bedroom.

Once more, he placed his ear against the door and tried the handle. With his shoulder, he budged the stubborn door open and saw that the room was immaculate, although it stunk a little due to lack of fresh air that an opened window could easily sort out. The room was clean, the blue carpet looked spotless, and the bed was made. He took a look around and saw dust on the side table, and this made David grow concerned for the welfare of his parents that were in their mid-sixties. Never would his mother allow such dust to gather in any of the rooms in her house, apocalypse or no apocalypse.

He closed the door and bypassed his parents' room and decided to try the bathroom door. He opened the door and he peered over at the bath and saw that it was empty. He now began to panic. He craned his neck to look into the bath; it looked like it hadn't even been used in weeks, never mind filled.

Why didn't they fill the bath? Isn't that what the media told us to do in the first week?

David shut the bathroom door and looked at his parents' room with utter dread. He was getting a deja-vu feeling, and he was bracing himself for a scene that he had witnessed earlier when he broke into Sandra and Harold's house.

He took in a few deep breaths, and prepared himself for the worst case scenario that he could think of: his parents, lying in the bed, dead from an overdose.

He opened the door with his eyes shut, and slowly opened them, like one would after a scary scene in a horror film to see if it was safe to do so. But this horror was real, and David never expected what his eyes were now witnessing.

He suddenly stopped breathing and, almost cartoon-like, he closed his eyes, shook his head and refocused, just to make sure that his eyes weren't playing a cruel trick on him.

His mum was sitting on the carpet, gnashing and snarling at nothing in particular. His dad lay motionless on the bed, both wrists had been slashed and it looked and smelt like he had been dead for weeks, which probably explained why the bath was empty and why the room was infested with flies. The pair of them had no intentions of living very long, and this explained why he had lost contact with his parents after just three days.

He looked back over to his mother, who had been bitten on the arm and now reanimated, and couldn't understand the situation and why she never ate his dad.

He guessed that they had both been attacked, probably by one of the neighbours, and maybe agreed on a suicide-pact and shut the bedroom door. His mother seemed to have changed her mind on killing herself, and had let the bite on her arm to snowball into the terrible disease that was guilty for the fall of civilisation. Because his mother lacked the courage and decided to sit around to see what happened, it had turned her into a monster.

His mum still sat on the floor, staring at the wall and making the uncomfortable noises, still unaware of David's presence. He waved at the flies that flew into his face and slowly shut the door. He had seen enough. He went into the bedroom that used to be his, and broke down for two minutes, sitting on the bed.

How much grief can one man take?

He then got off the bed and looked out of the window that looked down onto his Mazda. He could see Harry's back, still staying in his position and doing what his daddy told him.

Not wanting to leave him alone for another minute, David wiped his eyes and went downstairs, ready to leave the house. As soon as he got to the living room, he took a look around at the house where he grew up, and was certain it was a place he was never going to see again, at least from the inside. He went through the main door and, for whatever reason, he locked it behind him before going back to the Mazda.

As soon as David opened the driver's door and threw the crowbar onto the passenger seat, he spoke, "It's okay, son. It's only me."

Harry sat up and climbed back onto his booster seat. David braced himself for a barrage of questions and Harry didn't disappoint him.

"Daddy?" Harry began. "Aren't we going in grandma's?"

"No, son." David cleared his throat and couldn't think of anything to say. "There's ... there's nobody in."

"Can't we just stay in there, wait till they come back?"

With the supplies that he had split with Brian, he was sure that he could move himself and Harry into the house and live there for a couple of weeks, despite the carnage in his parents' bedroom. If he could somehow block off the room and keep Harry from going in there, it could be liveable. The trouble with this plan was that the door opened inwards, into the room, and if his reanimated mother could somehow open the door, then blocking off the door wasn't going to make much difference. His only options was to completely board up the door with planks of wood and nails, which he didn't have, or kill his mother and tell Harry that the room was completely out of bounds.

Whatever scenario went through his head; one thing he was certain about was that with two dead bodies in one room, the smell would be too much to live with, and Harry had a thing about smells anyway.

The thought of living there skated across his mind once again. David didn't really want to pursue the option of killing his own mother, even though she was already technically dead, and finally decided to go back to Brian's. He didn't want to try other people's houses either, as it was too dangerous. If ever he was bitten or attacked by a frightened human and lost his life, Harry would be on his own, and that thought alone frightened David to death. At least if his parents were alive and they stayed at the house, he'd be in safe hands if anything ever happened to David.

It was time to leave.
Chapter Thirty

The car pulled away, and with a fresh tear in his eye David Johnson exited out of his old street and headed back to the country lanes that led to the woods.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, sunshine?"

"Where are we going now? I thought we were staying at grandma's house."

"Well, seem as though grandma and granddad are out, I thought we could go back to see Brian and Laura."

"Yay!" Harry cheered, and David managed a smile that his son was actually happy about something.

"Is that okay?" David looked at his son through the rear-view mirror and noticed that Harry was now staring out of the window and in a world of his own. David looked at him again through the mirror and asked, "What're you doing?"

"I'm pretending to shoot monsters that are hiding behind the bushes."

David smiled at his son's innocence. "What kind of gun have you got?"

Harry was lost in thought for a while, and answered, "A big one, but this gun doesn't have bullets."

"Oh?"

"It shoots wasps at the monsters so they can sting their face."

David laughed, and wondered what went on in that crazy little head of his son's.

"Daddy?"

"What is it?"

"Can a man run faster than a dog?"

"Seriously, Harry." David snickered at his little boy. "I don't think I have the mental energy to start this conversation."

Harry never responded and continued to stare out of his window, shooting imaginary monsters with his imaginary gun, loaded with wasps.

They were now a mile away from Brian's, and David thought it was eerie that the roads were desolate. Even though it was over four weeks since that announcement was made on that surreal Thursday morning, David thought that, even though he came from a small place, they'd be at least the odd vehicle on the road.

The population of Hardridge was just over four thousand, and his mother's village was a place with nearly two thousand, which meant there should be people with working cars. So where were they? Even the people barricaded in their homes were probably running out of supplies, which meant that they had to get in their cars to go and loot somewhere, but he still saw a lot of cars idly sitting on their drives.

So what did _that_ tell him?

It told David that even now, it appeared that people were still scared to venture outdoors, or they had reanimated inside and couldn't get out. Or had they taken their own lives? He wasn't entirely sure.

David dropped the gear to third, and took the bend. Once the road straightened up, he could see a parked vehicle in the far distance.

With paranoia suffocating his thinking, he began to slow the vehicle down, and wondered if he should turn around. But this was the only way back to Brian's place.

He couldn't see the presence of a human being up ahead, and assumed that the car had either been abandoned, or there were ghouls in there, unable to get out. He then thought about the situation Jane and Sarah had been in. Tears welled at the bottom of David's eyes and threatened to fall, but he quickly pulled himself together. He then released a deep breath out and this action seemed to have removed the dull pain in his stomach and the swelling in his throat.

He had made a decision. He was going to pass the vehicle and not stop and investigate, as being stationary in the wide-open made the pair of them vulnerable from attacks.

He applied more pressure on the gas pedal, and the car was now doing a steady thirty along the lengthy road. As the car got nearer to the abandoned vehicle, David tried to peer in through the back window of it to see if he could see anything, but he wasn't quite close enough yet.

Suddenly, from around the front of the car, stood a man, holding a shotgun, and David recognised him straight away. Before David had chance to even think about flooring the gas pedal, the man pointed his gun at the Mazda's windscreen and shook his head, as if to say, _don't even bother_.

David slowed down and looked into the rear-view mirror to see two other persons standing behind, carrying a weapon of some kind. If David was alone, he would have risked escaping this little ambush, but with Harry in the back, he wasn't going to do anything that would endanger his life. _If they want the stuff in the car, they can have it_.

If anything happened to Harry, David would give up. He was all that he had left. Without his boy, there'd be no point in living.

The car came to an eventual stop. David took the keys out of the ignition, placed them in his back pocket, and raised his hands in a gesture to state that he was no danger to the men.

"Daddy, what's happening?" There was no angst in Harry's voice; he had no idea of the danger the pair of them could be in. He leaned forwards in the back, reached for his daddy's elbow and began pinching and squeezing it.

"It's okay, son." David kept his hands raised. "Just do everything these men tell you, okay?"

"Okay, daddy. You're the boss."

_Not anymore, son_.
Chapter Thirty One

The first instruction from the man pointing the shotgun was to exit the vehicle, which father and son did. They were then told to sit down at the grass bank and not to move.

There were three men present, all from the Monroe family. David knew of the family; he knew they were capable of extreme violence, especially after what they did to Dixie. He thought about her young girl, Lisa, and wondered what they did with her and where they took her. Thank god they didn't see his face when they stormed his house, otherwise they would have recognised him and he'd be dead by now. To them he was just a normal man with his son in a new, horrific world, trying to survive.

Jay, the worst one of the lot, began searching through the car and Kevin decided to help.

"What're you doing?" the father snarled at his son, Kevin, also known as Cold. His bald features looked at his son for an answer.

David stared at the father, and it looked like that twenty years ago he was probably a well-built man, like his son, Jay, but with his fat stomach and the ridiculous tribal tattoos decorated over the fifty-six-year-old man's arms, he just looked like a sad, pathetic figure. The trouble was that with his sons, as well as his reputation, he had the muscle to do whatever he wanted.

Kevin answered, "Was just seeing what was in here." He took a step back from the car, and allowed his eldest brother, Jay, to search the car. Kevin then smiled at both David and Harry and sat next to Harry on the grassy bank, whilst his eldest brother searched the car and his father continued to have the shotgun pointed at David.

David sat in silence. Predictable pleading of: "Take anything, but don't hurt us," never left his lips. He decided to keep quiet and say nothing to antagonise anyone, especially the father and Jay, who both had explosive tempers.

Jay took a step back from David's car, and his father asked, "Well?"

"A fair bit of stuff in there, dad," answered the muscular Jay. "There's also a canister of petrol."

"Good. Should keep us going for a bit." He pointed over to Kevin. "You can drive this back home."

David then realised they weren't robbing the goods inside the car; they were taking the actual car itself, with everything inside it.

David's heart was in his mouth when Jay pointed over to him and Harry, and asked, "What about these two?"

The father stood for a while, in thought, then spoke, "Leave them. They've been cooperative, unlike some folk."

"Er ... dad? Can I have a word?" asked Kevin Monroe.

Kevin got off the grass bank and took a walk over to his father. The pair of them began discussing something in whispers, with Kevin occasionally peering over to David and Harry. David shifted on his bum uncomfortably, and was wondering what the hell they were talking about that involved him and Harry. The father shook his bald head and David could overhear him say to Kevin, "Really, son. I don't know where me and your mother went wrong with you."

David's heart rate increased and was finding it hard to gulp when the father began walking over with the shotgun tucked under his left armpit, especially after seeing what he had done to Dixie, with that very same gun.

The father of the men stopped walking and looked at Harry, whistled him over, like someone would whistle their dog, and beckoned the seven-year-old with his finger. Harry looked at his dad and began to stand to his feet. David grabbed his son's arm. "No chance." He then pulled him back to the grassy bank and told him to stay there.

"What's the matter?" Jay walked over to David. "You're lucky to still be walking, so don't—"

"There's no way my son is leaving my side."

"Is that right?" The father raised his gun back up, but David was in no way concerned that the weapon was pointing in his direction. David stood up and took a deep breath in. "Yeah, that's right. There's no way," David pointed at Kevin and saliva dribbled down his chin, "that my son is going anywhere near that paedophile."

"He has his faults," the father said with a straight face, now lowering the gun. "But I wouldn't go so far to call him _that_. Our town talks too much. What street are you from?"

"Then what do you want with my boy?" asked David, ignoring the father's question.

The father paused for a moment. He then came up with a terrible reason why he wanted Harry away from his father. "Kevin was going to take him for a walk into the woods, out of the way, while me and you have a little chat."

"No fucking way." David put his right hand in his back pocket, grabbing the keys, pretending to scratch himself. "You know what he's like. Why do you let him get away with it?"

The gun was now pointing to the floor, tucked under the armpit again. The father tried to explain, "He's not a pervert. He has a sickness. What can I do? Put him down? Despite his faults, he's still my son." The head of the clan then snapped his fingers. "Car keys."

David was close to tears, and with his son behind him, he snarled at the leader of the Monroe clan, "Harry doesn't leave my side."

"I'm fucking sick of this," Jay snarled, and stormed over towards David. "You do as you're fucking told. Don't you ever disrespect my dad."

David could see in Jay's face that he was about to experience some kind of violence, but David reacted first once Jay was in striking distance.

He pulled out his car keys and rammed the two-inch ignition key into Jay's eye. David told Harry to run, and the little boy did what he was told and darted into the woods. David then grabbed Jay and pushed him into his father, who was standing behind him, and ran at the father, grabbing the shotgun with both hands. The gun went off, injuring Jay's legs, forcing him to crumple to the ground in a painful heap.

David then kneed the father in the stomach as they wrestled for the gun. The father bent over in agony and had let go of the weapon. David held the shotgun, but was apprehensive on using it, so he turned it around and smacked the father in the face with the butt of the gun. He fell to the floor, holding his features, after David had broken his nose, and he cried out as the blood seeped all over his face and began stinging his eyes.

David then turned around and noticed there was no Kevin. Where was he? In the woods?

David's eyes widened with horror and gasped, "Harry."
Chapter Thirty Two

Holding the shotgun, David ran into the woods as fast as he could, his feet pounding the earth.

"Harry!" he screamed out with what little breath he had left. "Harry!"

David noticed that the further he went in, the more suffocating and condensed the greenery around him became. He had no idea where to go. He was running straight ahead, but what if his boy had turned left or right? What if Kevin had him?

"Harry!"

Suddenly, a reminder why the country, if not the world, had gone to hell in a hand basket came stumbling towards David in the distance. The lone creature was to the left of him, and David decided to stop his run and remove the pesky thing that would only follow him anyway if he ran away from it. He walked towards the creature and struck it with the gun. David watched it fall, and delivered another blow that cracked the skull open and exposed the black diseased brain.

David walked away and concentrated his efforts back to finding his son. He called out once more. "Harry!"

"Daddy!"

"Harry?"

David ran towards the direction of the voice and stopped when he saw that Kevin Monroe had a hold of Harry. The man had his arm around David's son and he cried out in anger, "You just couldn't do as you were told, could you?"

At first David never answered; the fact that this pervert was touching his son made his anger snowball.

"And why the fuck should I?" David snapped, the shotgun was being held with his left hand, pointing to the floor. "People have been cowering to your scummy family for decades."

"Yeah, well," Kevin laughed manically. "You've hurt two of mine. It's only fair I hurt one of yours."

"You do that, and I'll kill you. Then I'll go down and finish off the other two, lying in the middle of that road."

David looked at his son. He looked reasonably calm for someone who was being held by an adult, against his will.

"Let my boy go," demanded David, "and I'll allow you to go back to your dad and brother with no hassle from me."

"You'll..." Kevin laughed, and looked shocked at what he had just heard. "You'll ... _allow_ me to go back. Do you realise who my family are?"

"Yeah, I do." David nodded, and flashed Kevin a devilish grin. "You're the fucking scum of the earth, that's what you all are."

Kevin relaxed his grip on Harry after receiving an insult from David Johnson, his face looked filled with fury. Harry kicked his right leg back, striking Kevin on the shin, making Kevin release a yelp of pain. He let go of the seven-year-old who ran to the side, leaving Kevin exposed. David quickly raised the gun, and this time David never hesitated in squeezing the trigger, and Kevin Monroe flew back a couple of yards once the pellets ripped into his stomach. He hit the floor with a thump and lay motionless, looking up to the sky, slowly bleeding to death.

David threw the gun to the ground and walked over to his son, who was reluctant to go near him at first. Realising that his son had witnessed his dad being involved with a terrible act of violence, David understood straight away why he wouldn't go to him.

"Harry, it's me. It's still daddy."

Hesitantly, the little man walked over to his father and they both hugged.

"I'm sorry you had to see that." He sniffed his boy's hair and kissed him on his head. "He was a bad man."

Harry never said anything. His lips remained shut. He then took a look at the man, lying on his back, and moaning in pain with his vicious stomach wounds.

"Can't we help him, daddy? It looks sore."

David bent his knees and crouched down to his son's level. He could see a little fear in his son's eyes, and knew the act of violence that Kevin Monroe had received had shocked Harry. He couldn't believe that his dad was capable of such an action.

"We can't help him, son. And even if I could, I wouldn't."

"Why not?"

"Remember a few weeks ago..." David tried to control himself. He was about to bring up the name of his recently deceased daughter, and another flood of emotions hit him once again. He grunted, and continued to try and explain to Harry. "When you and Sarah were out playing on your scooters, I told you not to go too far, didn't I?"

Harry nodded, his face seemed unsure that this conversation ever took place.

"And why was that?"

"Um..." Harry tried to ignore the moaning coming from the dying man on the floor, and looked up to the sky in thought. "In case me and Sarah went on the road."

"Yes, I was worried about that, but there was something else."

"Um..."

David sighed and reminded him, "I was worried in case you and Sarah went too far away and that a bad man could take you." David pointed at the dying Kevin. "That's what _he_ is. He's a bad man."

"Daddy, when you was shouting at the man you said the F word."

"I know. I'm sorry, but daddy was very, very angry."

Harry had no response for his dad's short explanation, and stared at his father confusingly. Finally, he asked him, "Where to now?"

David looked around the woodland and pointed northwest. "I think Brian and Laura's place is a mile up that way."

Harry moaned, "My feet are sore."

"Already?" cackled David. "You lazy chump."

"I'm not a lazy chump, you are."

"Come on." David held out his hand to his traumatised son. "I'll carry you on my shoulders for some of the way."

Ignoring the injured man's pleading from the ground, both father and son walked away, and the adrenaline slowly began to wither away from David.
Chapter Thirty Three

It took twenty minutes of walking, but at last David recognised a part of the area, and knew they were near. They were at a place where a tree had fallen and he remembered that tree when Brian took them to his cabin for the first time.

David raised a smile once he saw the cabin in the distance and, as he and Harry progressed through the woods, rather noisily, he could see the back of Laura hanging out wet clothes over a homemade washing line.

As if she had eyes in the back of her head, or a sixth sense, she suddenly turned around and said with a smile, "Well that was a short stay at your mum's." Both David and Harry stopped by the barbed-wire fence and asked if it was okay to come in.

"Of course it is," Brian said, stepping out of the cabin. He walked over to David and genuinely looked pleased to see them both. He could see two specks of blood on David Johnson's face. "Ran into trouble?"

"Of the human kind." David spoke with a little anger in his voice.

"So what happened?"

David looked down at Harry and didn't want to tell Brian the whole story in front of his son; he didn't know that his grandparents were dead.

Noticing David's body language, Brian clapped his hands and gave the seven-year-old a smile. "Why don't you two crawl under this wire and get yourself a cup of water."

"Um ... okay," was Harry's response.

Harry and David did what they were told and crawled under the barbed wire. David remained by Brian's side whilst Harry was beckoned over by Laura and began helping her to hang the washing. Laura looked over her shoulder, knowing that the two men were making conversation that Harry's ears shouldn't hear. She'd find out what they were chatting about from Brian later.

"I'm sorry for coming back," said David.

Brian shook his head. "Don't be. Tell me what happened."

"I couldn't stay at my mum's. My dad killed himself, and she'd turned. It was too dangerous for me and Harry to stay in there, and the smell..." David cleared his throat and added, "I thought about trying another house—"

"It's too dangerous to do that," Brian interrupted. "What happens if you break in and you're stabbed by a frightened family? That'd be Harry alone, forever."

"You're right." David nodded his head.

"What about this ... human threat?"

"I saw an abandoned car—"

"But it wasn't abandoned and they jumped you."

"Er ... well, yeah."

"Oldest trick in the book. Know who they are?"

David nodded his head. "We were on the way back to your place anyway before I stopped. There was three of them, a horrible family that lives in my town, and I somehow managed to fight my way out."

"It wouldn't happen to be the Monroe family, would it?"

David laughed, "Know them?"

Brian replied. "I got stabbed one night by the eldest, Jason or Jay, I think they call him."

David then went into detail about the melee. He told Brian about the creepy Kevin guy and how he feared for Harry. He told Brian that he had stabbed Jay with the car keys, broke the father's nose with the butt of the gun, and had unloaded the last cartridge into Kevin's stomach. He also told Brian that he had accidentally killed the youngest brother, Lance, back at his house, which the family didn't know about.

"I thought I heard a gunshot. Wow," Brian said with a smile. "You're quite the Monroe slayer."

"Hardly. I had never even been in a fight until last week."

"Where's this shotgun? And where's the car?"

David explained that he dropped the gun after blasting Kevin, and the car, as far as he knew, was sitting in the middle of the road, fully-stocked with supplies.

Brian was lost in deliberation, and turned around to look at the cabin. He told David to give him a minute, and right there, David knew that Brian was going to go back for the car and supplies, with the permission of Laura.

Laura and Harry were now inside the cabin, and Brian went in after them. Two minutes later he returned from the cabin. Brian Davidson announced, "Let's go, David. Make it as quick as possible."

Brian pulled out his Glock, crawled underneath the barbed wire, and both men strolled through the woods, with their eyes constantly on the move.

Brian's pace had speeded up as if he was paranoid that the half of the supplies in David's car, that they had taken from the supermarket, could be taken by the next passer by. As they trudged through the greenery, Brian gaped at David and asked with a smile, "Just out of interest—"

"Oh god, here we go."

"Would you sleep with your dad once a week for a year, or kill your mother?"

"Seriously?" David gave him a less-than-impressed look.

"Oh shit." Brian placed his hands on his head. "I forgot about your parents. I'm sorry."

"You forgot? Didn't I only tell you about them ten minutes ago?"

The men continued to walk in silence and David pointed to his left as they passed the body of Kevin Monroe. David told Brian that the shotgun was somewhere near his dying body. David looked at his ravaged stomach. He looked close to death. His eyes were wide and he was gazing up, breathing rapidly. Brian found the shotgun, but left it and moaned that he'd seen better antiques. He wasn't impressed. "Let's go, David."

David crouched down near Kevin's body and put his hand up. "Wait a minute, please."

David leaned over and gave the panting Kevin a glaring look. The pain was clear in his face, and the man eventually whispered, "Please," he begged. "Kill me."

"First things first," said David. "A few days ago, your father killed a woman by smashing her head in. You thought she killed your brother, Lance. What happened to the little girl you threw in the back of the van?"

"How...?"

"Just answer the question."

Kevin refused and shook his head.

"Here's what I think happened: You had your sick way with her, killed her, and dumped her in the middle of nowhere, likes a piece of garbage."

Kevin didn't say anything and concentrated on his breathing. Brian grabbed David's arm and said, "Come on. Let's leave this beast to die slowly and painfully. He deserves nothing else."

David stood up straight, and both men walked away from the dying Kevin Monroe. Already, they could see that the woods were thinning out and the Mazda could be seen up ahead.

Both men stepped out onto the road. "Fuck me, David." Brian looked at Jay, still writhing around with his damaged eye and the shotgun wound to the legs. The father had managed to crawl back to the driver's seat of the black pick-up truck, but, probably due to mild concussion, he never managed to start the vehicle yet and drive away.

David looked aghast, and couldn't believe that he was responsible for all of this. "It's amazing what you can do when you think your child's at risk."

"True." Brian nodded, and walked over to the body of Jay and pulled out the car key from his eye. The eldest brother screamed out and the father from the truck shouted out something about leaving his son alone. It sounded like the ramblings of a drunken old man, and it was obvious that he was still trying to recover from the smack in the face that David had given him earlier.

Brian wiped the key on his jeans and went over to the Mazda. It started first time.

David went into the passenger side and Brian went back out again, leaving the engine running, and said, "Back in a sec. I'm gonna see if there's anything in their vehicle."

"Are we stealing it?"

Brian, on his way over the road, turned round and said, "I might take it."

David peered his head out of his window, and called out, "What if these two come back here once they're fit, and come looking for revenge?"

"They won't," said Brian with confidence in his tone.

He grabbed the father by the shoulder and dragged him out of the vehicle. The father moaned and cussed and managed to get on all fours. Brian stuck his gun into the back of the old man's head and pulled the trigger, forcing David to look away.

When he finally opened his eyes, he saw a no-nonsense Brian putting a round into Jay's chest. Brian walked over towards David and stuck his head in the window. He explained, "Don't be shocked. People like that don't deserve to live. Once all these creatures have rotted away, people like that will rampage through the country, and probably cause just as much damage. You take the car, and I'll take the pick-up. Keys are in the ignition."

Brian walked away and David asked aloud, "Are we parking the vehicles in the usual place?"

Brian never answered verbally as he walked away; he just nodded a couple of times before entering the black pick-up truck.

Brian drove away first, and David moved over to the driver's side and followed, noticing straight away that a lone ghoul was stumbling in the middle of the road.

Brian pulled his vehicle to the right and slowed the vehicle right down so that he was next to the creature. He then stuck his arm out of the window, holding Glenda, and fired one shot, making the back of the ghoul's head spit out some dark blood. It then collapsed to the floor, and he drove away, with David closely following behind.

David held out his hands and couldn't believe how little they were shaking. He was certainly nervous, but not as panicky as he would have been a few days ago. Was all of this violence he was experiencing desensitising him? He had no idea, but the fact that he had just witnessed two men and a ghoul being executed by a Glock handgun, and was hardly ruffled by witnessing this, made him question himself.

Once they had both parked their vehicles, they took the walk back to the camp. Both men exchanged no words until David asked Brian to slow down so he could tie his shoelace. Brian stopped walking, scanning the area with his suspicious eyes, and held his hand up in the air to David. David couldn't interpret what this really meant, so he stayed in a crouching position until Brian said something.

The man carrying the handgun had obviously heard something that David didn't, but David Johnson trusted Brian's instincts and although dying to ask him what he thought was wrong, he remained silent until Brian spoke.

Brian then motioned David to get to his feet, which he did, and crept to a tree, ten yards to his right. Brian was pointing his gun down at something that David couldn't see. David stood next to him to see a woman sat up against the tree, silently releasing tears that flowed down her cheeks.

"Who are you?" asked Brian.

David stared at Brian and said, "Put the gun down."

"No chance."

"You can see she's scared, and she's obviously not one of _them_."

Brian released a defeated groan now that common sense had prevailed, and lowered his weapon and stuck it back in the front of his jeans. He crouched down and asked the woman, "Who are you? Where are you from?"

She stopped crying and stared into nothingness, not a word leaving her lips, and it was clear to Brian Davidson that she had been deeply affected by the horror that had plagued the country.

David also crouched down and inspected the woman. Her right wrist had been cut and a knife lay by the side of her. It was clear that she wanted to end her life, but something inside of her wouldn't allow her to go through with it. She was a woman at the end of her tether, and David felt for her.

As if she wasn't there, David said to Brian, "She must have gone through hell. It's times like these that highlights that everyone's lost somebody."

"How do you know for sure?" Brian stared at the woman, then began clicking his fingers in front of her eyes, to try and snap her out of whatever daydream she was lost in.

"Shit." David could see that she had no shoes or socks on, and her feet were bloody and seemed to be in a bit of a mess. Her features were dark, and the attractive woman appeared to be in a catatonic state.

"Have you lost anyone?" Brian was also beginning to feel some kind of pity for the woman, and waited for an answer off of her. With little patience, Brian added, "If you're just gonna sit there, then we're going."

There was no response.

Brian tried again. "I can give you some water and a bit of food and you can be on your way. There's nothing here for you." He stood up and shook his head at David, giving up.

This time David chipped in. "We might even have a pair of shoes for you."

Nothing.

Brian grabbed David by the shoulder. "Fuck her. We're going." Both began to walk away.

"Yes," she finally spoke.

Both men stopped walking when she had managed to release a single word.

Brian stared suspiciously at David and strolled back over to the woman. "Yes? What do you mean, yes? What's your name?"

"Helen," she spoke again. "And yes I _have_ lost someone."

"Who?" asked David.

She finally turned her head and looked at David with her distraught eyes. "My one-year-old boy, Jack, and my eleven-year-old daughter, Carla. I've been sitting here for ages, reflecting back on my life."

David lowered his head, feeling sorry for the poor woman, and then looked at Brian and widened his eyes at him, as if he was trying to communicate telepathically.

Brian interpreted David's body language correctly and began shaking his head and said, over and over again, "No, no, no. No way. She ain't coming back with us."

"Not even for one night?"

"I haven't spent months of preparation to be giving my supplies away to people I don't know."

"Please," David begged. "You did it for me and Harry. Just one night. In the morning she can be on her way with a bag of food."

Brian puffed out his cheeks and clenched his fist and shook it at David. It seemed that Brian's conscience wasn't allowing him to simply turn his back on this poor woman.

He was a complicated character, David thought. One minute Brian was blowing away men without an ounce of guilt, and the next he was saving a father and son and was now helping out a strange woman he didn't know. Although a dangerous character, Brian was a dangerous character with a heart, and David couldn't wait to get to know him better and learn about his mysterious past and what had moulded him into the man he was now.

Brian gave his hand to the woman, dressed in her Lennon T-shirt. "Get off your arse. Looks like you're coming with us. What's your full name?"

"Helen Davies." Her voice had become robotic and now she seemed to lack emotion. "It's Helen Davies."
Chapter Thirty Four

The evening was drawing in. Brian and Laura were inside, trying to get acquainted with Helen, dinner had been eaten, and David and Harry were outside and took a walk over to the stump for a sit down and a chat. Harry watched hypnotically as birds almost swam in the air, and heard them sing their merry tune. Life still went on as normal for the creatures of the woods, and Harry wished he could fly and be a bird.

He rubbed his full belly and enjoyed the potatoes and mince that Laura had made, but would have preferred to have had ketchup over his potatoes, as he would have drowned them with the stuff, just like he used to every evening at dinnertime when his mum was around.

Harry turned to his dad. He looked vacant, lost.

Although Harry was only seven, he knew something was wrong, and that his daddy had something on his mind. He didn't ask his daddy what was bothering him; he patiently waited, and enjoyed the peace of the woods.

"Harry?" his dad spoke at last.

Harry looked at his father and waited for him to finish off what he wanted to say.

David uncomfortably added, "There's something I need to tell you. About mum and Sarah."

"What is it?" Harry got off the stump. He stood awkwardly and looked around, losing interest on what his father wanted to say.

David's lip quavered as he looked at his son's large green eyes. "It's about these monsters; remember how you become one? Do you remember the talk we had a while back?"

Harry shook his head. "No."

Sighed David, "Okay. If a monster bites you, you become unwell—"

"And you turn into one." Harry finished his dad's sentence. "I remember now."

"Well..." David was struggling to find the words. He wanted to use language that made the situation lighter than it actually was, but that was near-impossible. He obviously wasn't going to use a sentence like: "Mum and Sarah became monsters, and were taken out by Brian."

He decided to bite the bullet and tell him the best he could, before he turned into a blubbering mess himself. "Mum and Sarah won't be coming back."

There was a silence; David looked up and clocked Harry's face. The boy's eyes were narrowed in thought for a long time. He finally asked his dad, "Ever?"

"Ever."

Harry's eyes narrowed even more in confusion, and he slowly sat next to his dad on the tree stump. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words escaped from his orifice. He tried again. "Where ... where have they gone?"

David tucked his lips in and could feel his throat tightening, the tears filling up, and he said with an emotional squeak in his voice, "Heaven."

"Heaven?"

David placed his shaking hand on the left plump cheek of his special little man, and cried, "They were bitten. They turned into monsters, and now they're dead."

Harry got off the stump and stood up straight. He looked at the ground, all confused. His head remained lowered, and David couldn't see his son's face properly, but decided to give him a moment and allow the enormity of the terrible news to sink in.

Eventually Harry lifted his head up; his eyes were bloodshot and the tears streamed down his cheeks. His bottom lip was puffed out and he sobbed, "Maybe if I get a branch and climb to the top of a tree, I could stick my hand out and touch the sky with the branch. I could then get mummy and Sarah to grab the stick and I could pull them back down, and—"

"Harry, you can't reach them." David gulped and said with a shiver in his voice, "They're gone ... for good."

"For good?" Harry released more tears from his eyes.

David nodded.

"So I'm never going to see mummy or Sarah again?"

David shifted on the stump, and placed his hands on his boy's strawberry blonde hair. "We will see them one day, sunshine. But it will be a long time before we do, because they're now in heaven and that's too far for any of us to reach."

Harry quickly wiped his tears from his face with the backs of his hands, almost slapping himself. "But we were supposed to be going on holiday in a few weeks."

David created a laugh and a sob simultaneously when his son made this statement. He still really didn't have a clue about the magnitude of the situation he was in.

David didn't want to sit Harry down and tell him that the planes weren't flying anymore, and that the swimming pool he wanted to lie in, on his airbed with his armbands on, would probably be mouldy and abandoned.

"We won't be going on holiday for a while, sunshine," said David, finally.

David stood to his feet as more tears spilt out of the young boy's eyes, and he took a step forwards and both of them hugged each other tightly.

"I don't want mummy and Sarah to be in heaven," Harry wailed.

"Neither do I, son. Neither do I."

Harry managed to reel off another sentence whilst his head was buried into his daddy's stomach, but he was sobbing so much that it was hard for David to understand what he was trying to say.

Harry broke away from David and gawped at him with his face scrawled in devastation. He remembered when Harry was first born; he told Jane that he would never let anything or anyone hurt him.

He had failed miserably.

On the day he was born, because Harry was an IVF baby, they thought that their little prince would be the only child they would have.

David stroked Harry's hair and thought back to when he was born. The midwife told David that he was allowed to touch the head whilst their son was coming out, so he did. David was the first person to touch his son, and because David and Jane had spent five years waiting for Harry, all that anguish they had gone through and months of disappointment were forgotten about when his boy entered the world and released his first cry. That cry was a joyous moment, but his crying _now_ was killing David, and he had no idea how to take the pain away from the only thing left in the world that he cared about.

David wiped the tears away from Harry's cheeks, kissed him on the forehead and told him to go into the cabin and wait for him. As soon as he walked off, the cabin door opened and Laura stood, waiting for the boy she was becoming close to. David had a feeling that Brian and Laura had been watching the emotional scene unfold, but he wasn't bothered by this. They were good people, although Brian was an individual that took no prisoners and wasn't to be crossed. David guessed that Brian was an ex-jailbird with his calm attitude to violence and his choice of weapons. But he wasn't going to pry into Brian's, more than likely, colourful, crime-riddled past. He would find out about that once they got to know one another better.

David sat back on the stump and doubled over with grief.

He would have done anything to just have one last sniff of Sarah's head, to have her snuggle up to him whilst watching her favourite programme, _Angelina Ballerina_ , and for her to stroke his arm and tell him it felt just like a cat. He would have done anything to have one last morning to savour, waking up next to Jane and cuddling her, to have an evening with cheese and crackers and a glass or two of their favourite red wine, and to sit for hours on their leather couch and spend the evening talking.

His body remained doubled over and his emotional collapse was something he'd been trying to bury from Harry ever since he came back from the supermarket. His mind went back to the scene of seeing his wife and daughter in that horrific state, then having to be killed, or re-killed, by Brian so they could rest in peace, properly.

Like David, Harry only had one person left in the world that he loved, and even his school friends were people he was never going to see again. David sat up and looked up to the sky, the soft wind gliding over his features and cooling down his face.

David began to speak, "You know I've never been a big believer; and you know that I've always thought that when someone dies, then that's it. But if you can hear me, Jane, I promise I won't let anything happen to our boy, our little prince. I love you. I wish I could have seen Sarah grow into a young lady. I wish I could have walked her down the aisle, and..." He wiped tears from his cheeks and added, "Give Sarah a kiss for me, and tell her that daddy and..." David, angry that he had broke down again and that his message to his wife had been interrupted, eventually continued, "And tell her that daddy and Harry will see you all again ... one day, but not for a while. Keep safe, my girls. I love you more than words can say. You are the sunshine of my life. The pair of you."

He blew out his cheeks, and for some reason this seemed to cool down his face and reduce the welling in his eyes. David Johnson then brushed his fingers through his dark greasy hair and took a peek around the area he was in. He was a lucky man; he knew that. He was a lot luckier than some folk, despite the trauma he was going through, and thought how different it could have turned out.

If on that Thursday his boy had gone with them, David would have went looking for the three of them as soon as the broadcast was made. Maybe it would have got him killed, but if it hadn't, there was a small chance he could have found them alive, but there was also the scenario of all three of them, stuck in that damn car, reanimated. If that had happened, David Johnson would have given up on life. No Jane, no Sarah _and_ no Harry would have been too much to cope with. If David hadn't have killed himself, he was pretty sure that his heart would have broken anyway.

He had no idea how the future was going to pan out for the pair of them, and he was uncertain if they would both live to see the winter, but David Johnson predicted that there would be darker days ahead of him.

Darker days for everyone.
THE END
**If you enjoyed reading** _DEAD DAYZ_ **, feel free to share your thoughts on my** facebook **page or m** ail me, or **leave a review where you've downloaded the book.**

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Very kind regards,

Shaun Whittington
