That Zombie Novel

The first glimpses of the sun shone over the houses across the street, I watched as the dead stumbled around drunkenly, satisfied there was no sign of fresh meat they turned and moved on in search of flesh.

Studying The Infected from my bedroom window, I’d categorized two major types:
The bulky or damaged were Type Ones; they were the slow moving yet seemingly strong, brutes. They usually shuffled around aimlessly and fell to their knees and shoved their face into whatever poor soul they were feeding on.
Then there were the Type Twos, they didn't feed as often so were skinny and nimble, and they also lacked muscle compared to their type one counterparts. They were fast and they screamed a lot. One of them was no match for a survivor, who dared to take on the night, he managed to kill it but then they swarmed and inevitably he met his demise.

Night was the worst time to be out on your own or out on ground level at all… because you couldn’t really use reflections from windows or mirrors because it was too dark, and most of the street lights had been smashed up when the infection first hit, there were riots that swept through the UK, I’m not sure what happened in other countries but in the UK people who weren’t infected went literally crazy. So no light and no reflections you couldn’t really see much, and added to that your heart would pound so hard you could hear it in your ears so loudly you wouldn’t be able to hear the muffled shuffling of the undead, you wouldn’t be able to smell the putrid stench of rotting flesh, you’d be too on edge to notice the small things. Night time, the dark was what got to people, so it was easier for the infected to feed.

Late morning arrived, and after a cozy little breakfast with the last of our food, we started preparing to go out.
"What if they're right outside the door, John? What will we do then?" Molly said nervously pulling at her collar.
I cut her off, "Come on Mol, man the fuck up. We need to get out of here and there's only one way unless you can grow a pair of wings, so in the meantime grow a pair of balls."
Molly looked at me annoyed, she bit her lip, “Fuck you John, I don’t need you telling me what to do, and I’m allowed to be frightened!” She frowned at me then stormed off to pack the rest of her bags, she purposely bumped into the tag-along.

The tag-along had been getting most of my attention recently, partly because she wouldn’t tell me her name, and I so desperately wanted to know, she was no older than sixteen, but she refused to tell me anything about herself, she was shit at fending for herself and to the point she was useless to us but we wanted as many survivors to join us as possible. We wanted to at least start a new life with some sort of community. Molly had obviously gotten a bee up her arse about the tag-along getting more of my attention.

Essential supplies were packed, obviously: water, food, but we didn’t have any food left so we had to miss that out, matches, clothes, first aid kit, weapons, various little things we needed. We'd first gotten supplies from the survival packs that had been delivered at the start of the whole event, but it soon ran out, it’d had been almost three months now and things were running out.

I could hear the tag-along whispering to herself repeatedly, “It’s okay; we're going to get through this, we’ll be fine."
I whipped my bass off the wall and grasped the neck with one hand and swung my bag onto my back with the other, the weapons were all leant up against the wall, one by one Danny, the tag-along and Alex picked up their weapons, James and Molly weighed up their weapons and nodded surely to each other as they picked them up. When we were ready Danny lead us to the back room where Tom had been working, Tom looked up from the table and smiled at us, he ran through the plan a few times, pointing to a map that had been drawn on and ‘edited’ to show which buildings had been run down and the undead hotspots, we marked them on the map as we discovered them, in the hopes that one day we would find somewhere perfect and not have to leave until the disease had cleared up, then hopefully with our community we could go back to the places marked and rebuild everything. But that was the long term plan. We needed more immediate plans to begin with.

"There are shops around here,” He gestured to a circled area with a lightly penciled question mark in the middle, “I don’t know whether there will be any of The Infected there but we’ll see, we desperately need food and water so we will have to check there." He looked up at the group and we nodded, to assure him we were listening, “We also need more weapons… more like guns, than baseball bats and guitars. James has the only gun right now and we need more, along with ammo.” He added.
Tom started writing lightly on the map with pencil as he gave the group a chance to confer.
“Didn't you say your granddad had a shotgun or something?" James asked
"Yeah," I replied, "He lives just around… here." I hovered my finger over the map then pressed my finger on where my grandfather’s house was, Tom drew a circle around my finger.
"We all set?" Molly glared at me, her baseball bat rested against her shoulder, chainsaw teeth just poking up behind her head.
"Almost," I half smiled, "Anybody wanna grab anything else?"
Everybody looked at each other, then back at me and shook their heads.
"Then Tom, pack up the map and let's go." I smiled at Molly but she just gave me the middle finger.

The door opened almost silently, Tom cleverly suggested we oil up the hinges in order for it to be as quiet as possible, a Type One stood against a car, gargling but there were no other Infected in sight. I stepped outside cautiously and used hand gestures, which we had spent a lot of time training with, to signal James, “The Dare Devil” to take the Type One out. We'd analyzed possible weak points on The Infected and how to get at them. We'd concluded that head trauma and spinal damage was the best way to permanently disable a zombie, as the brain was the only thing stopping them from collapsing in a big heap on the floor and doing nothing. But that was in the films and books so we thought maybe it was the same for The Infected, the first time we tried it, it was a long shot, but it worked so we kept those methods.

We all watched with baited breath as James quietly snuck up behind the Type One, he had to climb on the roof of the car without making a sound, he crouched just above the undead, he leant in to it’s ear, whispered something, the drunken, fumbling creature turned to attack James and in three quick stabs with his knife: one to the back, another to the lower part of the spine and the final to the back of the undead creature’s head, The Infected collapsed after more gargling. He turned to us and smiled, Molly had quickly moved in and was asking him if he was okay as he pulled his knife from the creature’s skull.

I walked over to James and Molly, "You got ‘im good,” I said to James as I patted him on the back.
We carried on, on our way toward the shops and my grandfather’s house.

It was half five when we finally come to the first shop, there wasn’t any sign of The Infected until we got there. In the storage there was an ex-worker, still in his uniform stumbling around and throwing up blood and horrific looking bile. Alex quickly put him out of his misery, she smirked and looked at her victims face then got her tattoo gun out and added another notch to her Tally Chart of Kills she’d made, there were at least ninety eight there.

"Okay guys, I have an idea." Tom exclaimed just as we were about to lock the doors of the shop, we looked at him awaiting his speech.
"This may revert off of the original plan, but in order for efficiency, I think we should partially split up." He looked out of the shop window
"How do you mean Faffy?" I queried, using one of his alternate names,
"Well, you know that shotgun you and James mentioned? I think you and say, erm, you, I don’t know your name,” Tom pointed at the tag-along
“Me, just call me Tag-Along, it seems to be a name that’s stuck for Molly and John…” She looked at Molly then at me.
“It’s only because you won’t tell me your name!” I retorted
“It’s okay; I know she likes it when you degrade me to, a Tag-Along…” Tag-Along smiled at Molly, Molly scowled at her.
“John, you and the girl and should go and get the blooming gun, whilst we set up camp here for the night and search for food, and other supplies,” Tom raised his voice, he was getting angry, “And take Alex with you! I don’t want you two getting distracted.”

Alex stood up right and waited for her next orders.
Tag-Along clutched her paddle and looked up at me with her big brown eyes; she was scared but also, like everything else, refused to show it.
"Are you up for it?" I asked Tag-Along, crouching down to her level.
"Yeah... sure..." she replied timidly.
Just before leaving, I called back, "If we're not back in an hour and a half at most, lock up and don't look for us until the morning."
The others nodded, and we set off out of the shop, I hear Tom telling the others their plan of action as we left.

Alex followed us out, keeping a look out, James’ hand gun at the ready.
When we’d gotten out of the view of the base, Tag-Along grabbed my arm, stopping me in my tracks.
"I didn't want to do this, John..." she said fearfully,
"Why not? It'll be fine, I promise you." I replied calmly, looking into her eyes.
"Okay, if you’re sure,” She smiled at me and leaned closer,
I giggled slightly, nervously.
Alex walked in between us.
Tag-Along rolled her eyes; and we continued and arrived at my grandparents, Alex walking a few feet behind us.
"Strange, we didn't see a single dead thing." Tag-Along laughed, "You were right, I trust you from now on.”
She kissed my cheek and I smiled and gazed at her,
I heard Alex clear her throat.
I snapped out of my trance and pushed on the front door, I almost instinctively pressed the door bell, what a lot of use that would have been.
"Could you guys give me a hand? The doors locked."
Alex stood with her back to us, keeping guard as Tag-Along and I struggled to open the door.
After around five minutes of me running at the door, Tag-Along kicking it and Alex looking over her shoulder at us, huffing at us and rolling her eyes.
I stopped and glared at Alex, “Well, soldier wannabe, you fucking open the door on your own then.”
Alex shrugged, gun still in hand, she steadied herself and kicked at the door, the door fell right through. I stared at Alex wide-eyed, Alex smirked and looked at me, “Before you ask, I’m not paying for it,” she resumed position behind us.
I took a peek inside the house, it was dark and musty, things looked to be right where they’d been left before the disease took over, and my grandfather was one of the first to go. I didn’t really know where he was at the time but I knew he was gone. I stepped inside properly and Tag-Along followed.
"Right, so where is the gun?" Tag-Along whispered, still wary
"I don't actually know... You check upstairs, I'll check down here." I replied, looking around the hallway.
She nodded and made her way up the stairs.
Alex stood at the door, side on, her back to the wall.

Downstairs the rooms were filled with memories of our past, family and close family friends, events and all other grand things. I stared at photographs of my family, it was hard to believe it had only been a few months, it looked and felt like years, photo frames were dusty, the furniture looked moth eaten… it didn’t look the same. I stopped reliving memories and wishing and began pulling up floorboards, I emptied cupboards and opened panels to no avail. Buckshot shotgun shells, nine of them, were all I could find. As I stared and weighed each shell, a loud blood curdling scream shook through the house. Alex stalked into the living room and began slowly climbing the stairs, gun at the ready, I quickly ran straight past Alex who was half way up the stairs, I ran through room to room but couldn’t find Tag-Along, I climbed the ladder to the attic to find a type two, scratching at Tag-Along with razor sharp nails, her clothes were mostly torn and large gashes were across her stomach and chest. I quickly tackled The Infected off the top of her and crushed its head against the floor. It twitched for a moment then lay deadly still. Tag-Along looked down at herself and started coughing up blood.

"Oh shit, Tag-Along, what happened?" I yelled
“My name isn’t Tag-Along,” She cried as she coughed up blood again, “My name is Emma, I’m sixteen, I’m from Rochdale, I have a brother, and he’s looking for me! I ran away!”
“Emma, what happened?” I asked panicking
I looked at Alex; she was aiming her gun at Emma’s head
“Don’t you even dare!” I shouted at Alex
“Please, don’t let me die!” Emma squealed, tears rolling down her face, I noticed a chunk missing out of her left arm
“Emma, you’re going to turn…” I looked at her arm
She looked at me, and then at her arm, “Oh, I can’t feel my arm… John! I can’t feel my arm!” She burst into hysterics
“You’re already turning… I can’t help you Emma, I’m so sorry!” I bit my tongue to stop myself from crying
“Please, please don’t let me turn into one of them!” She slumped to a heap on the floor and began breathing heavily, coughing and throwing up more violently.
I looked at Alex, then at Emma.
“If you want I can shoot and it’ll be over?” Alex aimed at Emma but averted her eyes to me
“No, I have to do this…” I grabbed the gun from Alex and aimed at Emma’s head, I squeezed the trigger a little.
“I’m so sorry I broke my promise Emma…” I let a tear escape my eyes as it rolled down my face she closed her eyes and I pulled the trigger.
There was no bang, just a loud crunch and squishing noise as the made impact with her skull and then flew straight through her brain.
I wasn’t able to keep my first promise, but I never let Tag-Along turn into one of the undead. I bit my lip and turned back to Alex. She nodded at me then raised her brow in sympathy. Then took the gun and stood at the top of the ladder, listening for any sign of movement. I continued my search for the shotgun in the attic, when I finally found it I packed what food and essentials I could find in my grandfathers’ house, I shut the front door and took a step back to look at the house one more time and then Alex and I made a morbid and increasingly dangerous walk home, the shotgun over my shoulder and the bass on my back.

Dusk started to fall as I arrived back at the shop.