Decaying Hearts

Chapter 8

    We drove in two separate vehicles. Lenny and I took the blue Peugeot, which had been our grand getaway when we first met, whilst Tony and Emma drove ahead in a dust covered transit van. The run had no specific goal other than to see what supplies we could gather that would prolong our survival; along with the faint slither of hope of retrieving a mattress for myself.
    The sun shone brightly against the road with cars scattered haphazardly on each side. Each car was abandoned or had become a grave. The world had become one mass graveyard. As we drove through the labyrinth of cars that lay askew, the odd corpse rose from their slumber at the sound of engines. It was as though any sound was registered a life that could be taken, eaten. They staggered in pursuit, but the car was already too far in front.
    After the 30 minute drive, we had lost the half a dozen that rose from between the cars, but the town ahead would be our real threat. The most built up areas were usually the most dangerous; because they were once so populated there, more people were attacked and turned.  
   The town for which we were headed, the group hadn't looted yet. It was small town, a fair distance away from any other, so tony hoped that any other survivors hadn't even heard of the tiny town and so may not have raided the area yet. But because they had never looted the town before, it meant it was unchartered territory. It meant the dangers were unknown and so the whole expedition would be unpredictable.
   We had no idea how badly the town had been affected and so we had no idea how many of the dead still wandered there. We had no choice, but to be on high alert, it was too risky to dismiss anything. Danger would always be lurking, we just had to try to be one step ahead of the game.
   When we drove into the little town, the streets were sound asleep. There was only the gentle sound of the autumnal breeze that stalked the ending summer and ancient litter drifted through the streets like western tumble weed. The silence was dark and eerie, apart from the buildings that lingered there was nothing that resembled the old world we longed for.
    With Lenny at the wheel, we followed Tony as he pulled into a small car park in the town centre and watched him as he jumped from the Van. Emma slowly followed, shutting the van door gently, desperate to make as little noise as possible. Her blonde hair was tied back in a high pony tail and swayed drastically as she moved. With a single pistol and a menacing blade hanging idly from her waistband and the dark look in her eyes she looked different... she looked like a deadly assassin ready to kill.
    We met the two behind the cars, preparing to split in to two once again. Only this time, I made sure that I Would be with Emma. I made it my mission to keep her safe and that wouldn't be possible if we were split up, so I fought my case. I argued that my experience of being out in the world for so long on my own would make me the perfect protector for a young girl who had never had to face the new evils of the dead.
    So, Lenny and Tony took off to raid the shops and pharmacies located around the town, whilst Emma and I headed to the suburb to check out the houses. Surely we find supplies there and maybe even a mattress.
   With this being Emma's first raid, we made the mutual decision to make it as brief as possible and stick to a given time frame. If one group had not returned to the car park within two hours then the other group would go out in search.
    We headed toward the nearby housing estate, you could just see the end houses of each street from the car park and so felt it was close enough to head back if shit went down, but I kept my fingers crossed. The first street was named Ridgley Croft and with the design of the houses I could just picture the type of people who once lived there.
    The houses stood tall was a Tudor-like exterior and each house standing with three floors. Trees sat patiently on the side of the roads, just to the side of the driveways, home to a multitude of colours. Faint red, yellows and fading greens lingered from the high branches; a sure sign that winter was on its way.
   If you were to ignore the apparent destruction of cars and broken windows, the neighbourhood seemed... sweet. Clearly the street had once been home to well established families, perhaps lawyers and doctors lived there once, but now it was just an empty wasteland, absent of the living.
    "Are you okay?" I asked Emma calmly, hoisting my almost empty rucksack on to my back.
    Since I had joined the group, it seemed like there was little reason to carry all my belongings with me. Instead I carried only the remainder of my family photos and emergency supplied; water, basic first aid kit and a 3 day supply of cereal bars I had stuffed carelessly into the side pockets.
    Emma took a deep breath and a few strands of her hair fluttered across her face before walking ahead. "I'm fine," was all she said.
    We started at the very end of the cul-de-sac and began working our way back to the opening of the street. The first house was a success. We found a few remaining cans of baked beans and ravioli as well as a full packet of pasta. Throughout the house, it seemed reasonably unscathed compared to many I had seen before. The only real sign of destruction was the broken and empty photo frames that lay amuck, as well as the occasional splatter of crimson.
    Maybe this town had been luckier than others? But then, looking around and seeing no survivors, it was hard to believe anybody would have been so lucky.
    A few houses later and an hour had gone by, both rucksacks we carried with us were crammed full with old bars old chocolates, canned food and a few packets of boil in the back rice and even a bottle of scotch; I'm sure the guys will appreciate that a little later.
    We had developed a strategy to clear each house as quickly as possible. I would help Emma secure the bottom floor and then leave her to search the cupboards as I took to the next two floors. It was working and we had managed to get by with no incidents.
    That soon changed.
    We were half way up our third street, with only a few house to go. It was a quaint little house and seemingly smaller than the others. The living room was an equal square with just enough room for two settees – a two and a three seater – a coffee table, and an elegant TV stand that held a large flat screen.
    The room was in a devastating state. The sofa cushions had been thrown from their residence and laid lifelessly on the floor. The TV remained on the stand but had fallen to lean against the wall with a shattered screen; it looked just as fed up as us survivors. Above all that, it was the chilling colour of the crimson that had been smeared across the painted blue walls; parts still looked wet. It was fresh.
    We continued through the house as we did with the others before, only with more caution. Though, with no immediate danger to be found, I left Emma to check out the kitchen.
   The master bedroom was reasonably tidy. The drawers were shut tidily and the king sized bed had been left made, almost immaculate. I took a look at the mattress, making it a task to test the mattress for comfort and I was hit was a familiar sense of longing. I could just imagine the sensation of sleeping in my own bed, waking up after a decent night sleep for just one more night; something I had been able to picture for so long, even before the break out. I missed home.
   I rose from the mattress and abandoned the idea of taking one. It seemed too weird to take somebody else's for my own, someone who was most likely dead. It felt insensitive. There was a big difference between taking things to survive and taking things for the sake of luxury. There just wasn't much room for such simple pleasures anymore. Instead, I took a carrier bag that hung from the drawer's handle and emptied its contents on to the floor and replaced them with a handful of clothes from the drawers. We would need new ones eventually. I took four men's and four women's t-shirts and then left for another room.
    The room across the hall was dotted with flowers and butterflies with walls of pink. Toys lay amuck across the room, like a child mid-play. There was blood amongst the prettiness of the pink, creating the most horrific scenarios I could imagine. A series of dark and tragic images surged through my mind, telling possible tales of what had taken place here, to just a child, a sweet little girl. I could almost hear her screams echoing around the room like the haunting of a ghost and a shiver trickled down my spine. I could feel her fear as strongly as I felt my own.
    What if she was all alone? Could her parent have watched as she faded away? Could it be that it was her own parents that took her from this world?
    I shook myself from the terrible reverie and instantly noticed a small woven moses basket, lined with yellow blanket, laid on a stand in the corner. Amongst the blankets was a little yellow rabbit with a velvet pink bow behind its neck. Instantly, I thought of Rosie. Regardless of the sex, every child needed a favourite toy. Rosie would love it.
    There was a thud on the stairs... and another.
    Emma must be coming to look for me. So I quickly grabbed as much as I could; a few children's books, a pack of nappies, a tub of baby formula and even a hand full of baby clothes. The carrier bag in my hand was now filled to the rim and I was beginning to feel the heavy weight of the over-sized rucksack on my back.
    Suddenly, I heard a scream. A loud ear-piercing scream that made my heart pound and then sink like a fallen battle ship. My stomach twisted in knots wrapped around even bigger knots. I grabbed the moses basket and ran, almost jumping down the full set of stairs.
    My hammer was already in hand by the time I heard the first growl. Emma had been pushed in to the corner of the once cream tiled kitchen; her back was pressed in to the point where two counters met and just a matter of feet in front of her was a rotting corpse. I stood frozen as I saw her whip out her knife and launched it in to the dead man's face. She ran around the corpse that staggered backwards and almost leaped in to my arms.
    But the distraction was short lived. Within seconds the set of teeth had shaken off the blow and stumbled in our distraction with its arms outstretched, itchy for a piece of meat between its teeth. Panicking, we paced backwards, daring not to take our eyes of the monster in front of us.
    "Josh..." Emma's voice came urgently.
    As I turned to face her, I instantly understood the urgency. Just on the other side of the window and the broken glass was a hoard of corpses gathering, figuring a way to get up and through the broken window. It didn't take long.
    Quickly, I threw open the broom cupboard and pushed Emma inside, following close behind her. I slammed the door shut and immediately heard the sound of a body throwing itself against it. Now we were trapped. The rotting body banged viciously against the door. Thump. Thump. Thump. Growl. Thump.
    Shit! What were we going to do? We were trapped in a broom cupboard, in a house surrounded by teeth. Why had I made us take shelter in a poxy little cupboard with a door that was going to give way any second? I had trapped us in here. I had killed us.
   There was a high pitched whimper and I could no longer contain the frustration bubbling inside of me. Any sound would only make them more determined to break the barrier between us and them.
    "Emma! Just stop! Stop whining!" I hissed angrily.
    "Josh, it isn't me!" Emma panted. Her voice faltered only slightly, but it was too strong to even hint at a whimper. It couldn't have been her.
     I slowly reached for the little torch I forever kept on my waistband and flicked the switch. A part of me dreaded what I could find. There could be anything in there with us. Most worryingly, there could have been a set of teeth locked in here with us. Wouldn't that just make things cosy!
    But what I found was far from my expectations. In the corner of the cupboard, vaguely hidden by a mop and a broom was a small mound curled in to a tight and desperate ball. I shone the light in that direction, still overly aware of the corpse fighting furiously for entry and saw the tears streaming down the face of a little girl. Her dark brown curls were greying with dust that had gathered and settled on her and her eyes looked like they could be a slight green, or maybe even hazel. But she was here! All alone!
    "Hey. Shh. Hey there, Sweetie." I started trying to soothe. "What's your name?"
    I saw her lips form the words but all the voice she could muster was a whimper. She must have been just five years old. Six at the oldest and she had just been left here. Anger raged deep within me.
     "Don't worry, Sweetheart, we'll get you out of here." I declared firmly.
     There was no way I could let these two girls down. Emma's safety had been entrusted to me and me alone. Moreover, Emma herself had trusted me to keep her safe. The there was a little girl, a sweet and lonely little girl left for dead in a world of nightmares. I couldn't let her leave the world now, not like this and not without her knowing there was still hope that was could still grow up. No, I was going to get them out of there, even if it meant that I didn't.
     "Emma, watch her. I need you to keep her calm, calm enough so we can get her out of here. I'll be back." I said firmly, placing my hand on the door handle.
    "What?! Where are you going?"
    "I'm going to clear the way, so we can get back to town."
    "That's suicide." Emma stated with her voice slightly breaking.
    "No, don't go giving up on me. Or yourself, Emma. We're gonna get out of this mess. I promised your brother that I'd get you home and I'm not the kind of guy to break promises. There's the girl to look after now, so you need to step up and take care of her. Stay here and I'll be back for you." I promised, kissing her forehead lightly.
    I suddenly understood the hero complex always shown in movies like this. The desperate need to save damsels in destress. I had never considered myself a hero, but I was determined to make sure these two girls lived.
    The speech was more to convince myself that they would be okay more than anything, the odds weren't exactly in our favour; out there was a pack of corpses to waiting to sink their teeth in to us. There was easily two dozen of them and then one most definitely waiting right outside the door we hid behind. Maybe three or four had gotten in to the house by now and it wouldn't take long for the rest to follow.
    The odds were slim, very slim indeed.