“They’re not doing anything,” Aaron pointed out as he peered towards the congregation gathered at the shop’s entrance. “They’re just standing there.”
Bucky peered down. A group of thirty or so crazies rocked and swayed whilst facing the shutters, but only a few knocked against them.
“I wonder,” he began, talking to himself more than anyone else, “if it’s because they can’t see us?”
“You think so?” Johnny asked, as he too studied the mass of infected outside.
“We can’t take that risk.” Mr Peterson added.
Johnny turned to him. “Why? Why not?”
“It will only take a small gap in the shutters for one of them to spot some movement inside, and they’ll flood through that door like a wave between two rocks. If that happens, our chances of survival here go from poor to piss poor.”
They waited on Stewart and Craig to return from downstairs, where Stewart, the shirt and tied, white haired old fart had left the keys to the van.
“What are they saying?” Bucky asked, turning to Michael for a news update.
Michael looked pale. Beads of sweat gathered upon his forehead. Dark circles appeared beneath his eyes and next to no colour existed in his lips any more.
“Nothing much,” Michael began, wiping the sweat with the sleeve of his cricket jumper. “Just that they think it’s a terrorist attack. It’s some kind of biological weapon contained in bombs that expelled a virus into the air. Most of the UK has been targeted, although some of the bombs didn’t explode. London, Birmingham, Liverpool, Coventry, Bristol, Manchester, almost every major city in the UK.” Michael coughed.
“Are you okay?” Bucky asked. It was clear something was wrong with him.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just wish I could shift this damn flu.”
Bucky nodded, but moved across to Miss Greene.
“Miss, I don’t think Michael is well.”
Miss Greene peered over her shoulder.”I’ll go see.”
She wandered over, accompanied by Mr Peterson.
The kids stood peering into the chaos. Fire burned the carcasses of cars and the bodies of those who did not survive. Blood seeped into puddles and surface water turning the street to the surface of a slaughter house. Aimless people wandered back and forth, their clothes saturated with rain. They groaned and wailed, taking no notice of each other, bouncing from one of their kind to another. A crazy appeared in the mass. Its clothing existed in patches where they had been burnt away. Charcoaled skin merged with glistening muscle and sinew. Bones emerged in part from the flesh in which they should have been covered. A blackened skull appeared where a face once existed. This had been one of the people kneeling in the flames to eat the other.
“You think this is it?” Lacey asked, keeping her focus on the world outside. “You think this is the end of the world?”
“No,” Lawro replied as he too peered out upon the carnage. “This is the apocalypse. This is the beginning of a new world. Some of us will die. Some of us will survive. Humankind will survive, but barely. From this point on we are going to be running. There are going to be no rules, no law, no democracy, not a damn thing. It’s everyone for themselves now. All bets are off.”
Bucky stood in silence watching the crazies shamble past below. George Ramero was right…
“Lacey?” Miss Greene asked, jolting Bucky back to his senses. “Can you sit with Michael, please? Just keep an eye on him. I think he’s suffering with the flu. We need to be monitoring it, just in case.”
“But I wanted to help.”
“Trust me, this will be a big help,” Mr Peterson explained. “And besides, there’s only room enough for one to head down that ladder, and it’s going to be me.”
Lacey scowled before adjusting her dark hair into a ponytail that sat high and to the right.
“Here we are,” Stewart’s decrepit voice came as he entered the room with Craig. He displayed the keys to the van.
“Found these,” Craig added, placing fireworks on the table. Bucky wandered across and sieved through them. Catherine wheels, sparklers, rockets…
“Here,” he said, taking a roman candle over to the window. “A rocket gives you one burst of light for maybe a second or so, but one of these lasts longer. That’s the kind of distraction we need if it works.”
“Try a rocket first,” Lawro replied. “If they do become distracted by the pretty lights, you’ve just used up one of your best distractions.”
Bucky nodded. “Right.”
Mr Peterson grabbed a rocket. “Open the window.”
Aaron did as the teacher asked, allowing the waft of bad air into the room.
“Christ, what is that?” he coughed, waving a hand across his nose.
“Smells like shit,” Lawro replied.
Bucky caught a whiff as the smell engulfed the room. “Damn. I bet they’ve crapped themselves. Maybe they lose control in this state?”
Lawro smirked. “Careful with the matches.”
“This is no time for jokes,” Peterson ordered. “Here.” The phys ed teacher beckoned to Lawro. “I’m gonna hold the wooden stick that should go in a support, seen as we have no other way to launch it. You light the fuse and we’ll see if they pay attention.”
Bucky opened the next window and along with Johnny, leant on the sill and out of the frame. Daylight dwindled behind rolling clouds. The rain eased but still fell at a steady pace.
“I hope my parents are okay,” Johnny whispered.
Bucky turned to him.”I’m sure they are.”
Johnny had remained quiet since they’d moved upstairs. Quiet times gave you time to think and Johnny must have done some thinking.
“It’s lit,” Lawro said, stepping back from the window.
“Bucky,” Peterson began whilst holding the rocket, “watch them out there. See what happens.”
Orange embers expelled from the firework as it ignited before whistling from Peterson’s hand and into the darkening sky.
The crazies stopped. Their swaying stopped. Their moaning stopped. Every single body that Bucky scoured lifted their
