Johnny squirmed on the uncomfortable floor. “It took a while, though. I mean, don’t people turn into zombies straight away if they’re bitten?”
“They’re not zombies!” Lawro yelled, his eyes glaring toward the skinny kid who sat opposite.
“Calm down!” Miss Greene snapped. Bucky noted the distain in her face. The situation they found themselves in had taken its toll on all of them. Not just this, but since they’d been thrust into the Great British apocalypse. Lawro had shown his true colours this past week or so, arguing and shouting with the staff, and at the same time the school kids, too. Bucky had only known him when it came to coaching the cricket team after school on a Tuesday evening, and even though he volunteered to help out, everyone still thought he was an absolute asshole.
“What the hell are you going to do about it, Miss?” Lawro began, his anger now drawn from the huge ego Bucky knew already existed. “All you’ve done since this thing happened is whimper, cry and run away!”
“Screw you!” Johnny blurted.
Chaos erupted within the van as Lawro grabbed the hammer, jumped across the way and smashed Johnny with a flurry of fists. Aaron jumped on him, attempting to pull the attacker away. Miss Greene became involved. Lacey hit Lawro around the head from the passenger seat.
Bucky fell sideways as the van screeched to a halt. Before he was able to sit upright, Mr Peterson had lunged into the back. A full-scale melee rocked the suspension of the vehicle.
“That is enough!” Peterson screamed, thrusting Lawro into the van’s rear doors. The impact breached the latch and out he tumbled, falling to the tarmac of a duel carriageway. Everyone spilled out onto the road, like punters that drank too much on a Saturday night and took their fights outside. Their voices droned into one monotonous tone, all shouting in unison, all except for Bucky who stood there and let it all continue.
Peterson had Lawro pinned to the ground. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you insane?”
“Get lost, Mr Peterson!”
Peterson raised a hand. “No,” Miss Greene shouted.
While the melee continued, Bucky took in their surroundings. He stood upon a dual carriageway he had no idea existed. Chances are he’d travelled this at some point but nothing appeared familiar. Stationary cars dotted here and there abandoned by owners who thought it better to walk. Then it dawned on him. At either side of the carriageway bodies had been piled. Lots of them. They lay in line with the road, piled on top of each other, their blood saturating each other’s clothing. Something was wrong around here. The air just had a different feel. It was a bad place to be.
Bucky’s inquisitiveness took him toward the nearest pile. Flies buzzed in erratic fashion above the rotting carcasses. The stench hit hard, like a Lawro punch straight on the nose, but still Bucky moved closer. He stopped less than five feet from the morbid area. Blood still dripped from one body to another, and then down onto the road. Most had missing limbs. Bone protruded from arms. Femurs jutted from flesh where legs had once been. Even heads had been severed on some of the bodies.
“Jesus…” Bucky whispered.
“He ain’t gonna help you.”
A flash of light and a ring in his ears, Bucky slumped to his knees. Something smashed against his head leaving him on the verge of consciousness. He scraped along the road, dragged by his collar as something pulled him along before launching him against Lawro. He peered up to see four men stood above them, all clasping bladed weapons of some kind.
“Now everyone’s together,” said the guy that had man handled Bucky. The quartet of attackers hid behind clown masks. Each was dirty and smudged, the sign of many skirmishes. All were white with features twisted into grins or pouts. Red eyes, blue lips, even teardrops painted on one that looked upset. The leader’s mask bore matted, red hair horseshoeing around his head.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, we proudly present to you our showcase of the evening… us!” The leader staged an eccentric shuffle and bow. “My name is Stank and I promise that our primary focus this evening will be on the good people feasting their eyes upon me now. Basically, that means all of you.”
Stank pointed a bloodstained finger to the school entourage. All of the clowns bore jeans and either hooded tops or jackets that had seen a lot of blood. “Now, let us have a chat. You sir, come here for me, please,” the redheaded monstrosity ordered Mr Peterson. “I won’t bite.”
Peterson looked about the kids before walking towards the clown leader.
“Okay boys, ensure the others are comfortable and relaxed during the show.”
The remaining clowns surrounded the cricket team. They each lifted their weapons. Bucky’s stomach dropped. All bore machetes at least twelve inches in length.
“What are you going to do?” Lawro asked.
“That, young man, is an excellent question,” Stank replied, again pointing with a saturated glove. “The answer depends on you. Let me explain.” From a holster attached around his waist and running down his left leg, the clown drew a sword. Bucky’s heartbeat thudded as anxiety flushed through his body. The sword shimmered, reminding him of a Japanese cartoon as the clown laid it to rest on Peterson’s shoulder. “Kneel down,” Stank ordered. Peterson complied, lurching down onto his knees.
“You know, everyone believes clowns are evil when it comes to things like this. Especially now the country has gone to shit,” he began, walking back and forth, like a lecturer delivering a lesson to some students. “You see four clowns carrying bladed weapons and I bet you think the worst, don’t you? Am I right? Actually, no, don’t answer that. All we are is a group of humble men trying to get by. The supermarkets have been raided. There’s no
