Taking the Fight

We started unloading materials into the flats while everyone else did. I was having a chat with our new friends.

"WHERE IS SHE?!" I slammed the man I only knew as Jones against the wall.

"I don't know! I haven't seen her!"

"LIAR! Fine, you want to lie? Come here!" I knocked him to the floor.

"Ty, go get me the rope."

"Why?"

"Shut up and get it!" He ran off.

"Fine. Now we're gonna play a game. It's called 'Tell me what I want to know before you get eaten alive.'"

We finished loading everything in. It took a few hours with all the bricks, but at least Tooth didn't show up for his friends. So much for loyalty. We tied his feet to the rope and tied the other end to a wardrobe.

"Okay, last chance to tell me."

No answer.

"Fine." I pushed him back over the bannister. He fell to the ground, stopping ten feet before the floor. He started to scream, but it was not the fall that scared him—it was what was at the bottom. Holding its arms up, reaching for him, was an angry zombie, its shattered teeth gnashing at the prospect of fresh meat.

"Changed your mind, dude? I'm pretty sure Larry down there would like a new friend."

"I haven't seen her, I swear!"

"Pull him up." Toby, Ty, and Jon pulled back on the rope, lifting him up a few feet before dropping it again. Jones screamed. Larry the zombie got even more excited.

I headed down one flight of stairs and leaned on the railing, being careful with my arm, so as he slowly spun, he could look me in the eye. "Now, I'm getting bored of this game. And if you don't win the game before I get bored, you lose. And you don't want to lose. Then I will go get your friend, see if he feels more cooperative."

"I haven't seen her! Please, I'm sorry!" Tears rolled down his cheek.

"You're sorry? You threaten a little girl with a knife, attack a couple of girls, and you're sorry? Well, that makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. Here, let me cut you down."

I picked up Toby's machete and leaned over to cut the rope.

"Oh, please, God, stop! I don't know where she is!"

"Fine. Where are you holed up?"

"If I tell you that, they will kill me."

"If you don't tell me, Larry will kill you. But with me, I'll give you a ten-minute head start."

"Okay, okay! I'll tell you! They're at the court!"

"The local court?"

"Yes! Please, let me go!"

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"Does it look like I am lying?"

I lifted the machete up.

"Please! You said you would let me go!"

"Well, that's what I call a lie."

"No!" This voice took me by surprise. Sky came running down the broken stairs and threw herself around my leg. "Please, Tom, don't do it! Don't hurt him!" She looked up at me.

My anger faded away. "Okay, don't worry. I won't hurt him. Go back upstairs."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

Sky walked off. I headed down to the ground floor, dispatched Larry the zombie with the baton, and Toby and Jon lowered Jones down so he could look me in the eye upside down.

"You are a very lucky man. Hold still; I'll cut you down. I would hate to miss." I swung the machete, and the rope broke. He fell the last five feet or so and landed on his head.

"Oops. Sorry."

We drove for two hours, me and Toby, until we were on a small country road in Marden. Houses here were separated by fields of nothing—just grass—so it was practically the arse end of nowhere, meaning the dead were few and far between. It would have been a good place to set up home for a while if supplies were nearby, but none of us knew the area that well, and we didn't fancy lots of exploration in an unknown place. Better to stick to the small town we knew.

"Here looks good." I pointed for Toby to pull over.

"What's different about that bit of hedge from the last bit of hedge we passed?"

"I don't know. It looks greener. Just pull over."

We got out of the car and opened up the back. Jones and the other man were sitting in silence with blindfolds on.

"Okay, get out. And I hope you didn't bleed on the car—we just got it."

They reluctantly climbed out. I pulled off the shirts we had been using as makeshift blindfolds.

"Where the hell are we?" Jones asked, slowly turning, taking in his new surroundings.

"Marden. Hold out your hands and don't try anything. Tob would very much like to shoot you, and I don't know if I can be bothered to stop him."

They both complied, and I cut the cable ties that bound them while Toby stood guard with the shotgun.

"Now what? You gonna kill us?"

"No, you're free to go. But don't come back, or you might run into Larry 2."

"So what? You dump us out here to die?"

"No, that would be cruel. You have two choices: Hastings apparently has built a wall, last we heard. You could head that way, or head to London—that was the last evac center we heard from before we heard nothing at all."

"Hastings is thirty miles away!"

"Well, you better start walking, then."

"And that evac center is probably overrun!"

"Oh no, really? Well, hop back in. We'll give you a lift."

Jones looked shocked. "Really?"

His stupidity stunned me. "No, not really, you moron. If you follow us, we will reverse over you."

Toby got back in the car. I reached into the front seat and pulled out a Hello Kitty backpack and threw it to the two men. "The little girl you threatened insisted I give it to you. There's a map, a few bottles of water, a crowbar, and some sandwiches. She made them for you. Count yourself lucky—it's more than you would have gotten from me."

I got back in the car, and we pulled away, leaving them.

We got back, and work on improving our defenses had already started...

Organized by Jack, we started bricking up all the downstairs and first-floor doors and windows. Jack was now welding metal to the front door. Jon and I, after a crash course in bricklaying, built a 20ft-long corridor outside leading up to the main entrance and placed another metal-coated door at the entrance and one halfway down between the first door and the main entrance. Jack welded and bolted more metal to form a roof for the corridor. At the first door was a swipe card lock that Jack had taken from the scrapyard; at the second door was a webcam so anyone arriving could be checked. After that, the main door was simply a bar through the door handles. It took 12 hours, and we were working into the dark, but it's amazing how shambling corpses can speed you up. We collapsed exhausted upstairs—provided a massive horde didn't attack before the concrete set, we should be safe. Sky made us sandwiches from the last of the frozen bread. They were pretty awful, but we were so hungry we didn't care.

The next morning, we all slept in till nine. But even though we were safe, Jane's absence hung over us. Jon and I packed up a few things and headed out. The new corridor was now set—hit the button, and the door unlocked. I made sure to check I had my key card on me; it used to be a coffee loyalty card until Jack had rewritten it. We got in the car and proceeded to the court. As a defensible position, it was not a bad place to set up shop. Most of the doors had coded locks, and there were plenty of toilets spread over three floors, plus a small ground-floor reception area, but it reeked with age. "So, what's the plan?" Jon said, swerving to the left to clip a nearby undead.

"Nice shot, and I haven't thought about that yet. Maybe we could just pull up, say hi, and ask if we can have Jane back?"

"You do remember that she tried to kill you, right?"

"I dunno. I've had a few whacks to the head lately."

"That explains a lot."

"Well, I'll just pop back to the hospital and see if I can get an MRI."

Jon grunted. We pulled up outside the court. No one was outside, but we could just about see into the reception area, where two guys were on watch—well, on watch in the sense that they were playing cards.

"You think Jack's little trick will work?"

"I think there's a good chance it could blow us to hell."

"Well, what a jolly day this will be."

We got out of the car and jogged to the entrance, knocking on the glass. The two guys jumped out of their skin and scrambled for their weapons.

"What!" A tall, bald black man who looked like he had steroids for breakfast, lunch, and dinner demanded.

"Hi, we're your neighbors."

"The question remains the same—what?"

"I think you have a friend of ours. Could we have her back?"

"There's a lot of people here. I ain't looking through them all."

"Oh, that's okay. If you let us in, we'll look for you."

"You ain't coming in."

"Why don't you get your boss? He'll want to speak to me."

"Oh, really? Why's that?"

"Tell him I'm here to return his teeth—he left them on my driveway."

The guard frowned. "Huh. He said you died—you and Graham killed each other."

"Well, not much stays dead these days. Go grab your boss, chopity chop—I can't dilly-dally here all day."

He whispered to his cohort, who ran off upstairs. "So, how are you?" He didn't smile.

After a couple of minutes of waiting, his friend returned. "Boss says send them up."

They opened the door, and we entered.

"Leave any weapons you might have here."

"Why?"

"Boss don't like you that much."

"Oh, well, we wouldn't want to upset him now, would we?"

Jon and I didn't want to chance upsetting them before we found Jane, so we placed everything we had in the tray.

"You want to check my pockets?" Jon asked.

Mr. Steroid grunted and waved us up the stairs. Another guard was waiting to show us up. We headed up two flights of stairs and entered a former waiting room that had been transformed into a sleeping area. Numerous stains were on the grey carpet, and most of the furniture had been broken.

"This way."

He showed us through another door, and we entered the actual courtroom. The seats were full of people shouting, yelling, and cheering. A bottle was thrown in our direction that Jon had to duck.

"Nice group."

"Shut up."

The words came from the judge's seat. There was Tooth, in a black judge's robe and wig.

"Hey, dude, long time no see. Could we have our friend back, please? I hate the idea of her eating all your food, so we'll take her off your hands."

Tooth grinned. "Don't worry—we haven't been feeding her."

I frowned and made my way to the front of the court. Jon followed. Beer was poured over us as we walked. Jon smacked one who got in his face; that settled them down a bit.

"Okay then, your honor, could we please have our friend back?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"Your trial, of course."

The crowd roared with approval, and Jon and my trial was about to begin.