Disintegration

17

“You okay, Webb?” Hollis asked as the two men met on their way to the communal lounge. It was just before nine in the morning, much later than most of them usually dragged themselves up out of bed. The effort of the previous two days of fighting had exhausted everyone and an early, relatively undisturbed night had followed. Webb’s eyes were glazed. He still looked half-asleep.

“Slept like a fucking log,” he answered with his usual lack of tact. “I’m still fucking knackered.”

“You were out there for a long time yesterday. Those things might be falling apart, but they still take some getting rid of when they’re coming at you.”

“Didn’t see you out there much.”

Hollis shook his head.

“Didn’t feel like it,” he replied evasively. “Smacked my head when I was out with Lorna yesterday morning. Still hurts.”

“You know,” Webb said as they walked, gradually becoming more animated, “someone needs to go out there and tell those things that they’re dead. You should have seen how they were going for us. I swear they’re getting faster. I mean, they’re still slow compared to you and me, but they’re quicker than they used to be.”

“You’re right,” Hollis agreed. “It makes no sense, but you’re right. We’ve just got to be careful and not take any chances. It’s like—”

“One of them bit me!” Webb interrupted. “Don’t forget that! Fucking thing tried to take a chunk out of my arm!”

“Yeah, you’ve already mentioned that.”

“We just need to keep doing what we’re doing. If we can get rid of a load of them every day then we can keep pushing them back, and if we can do that we’ll— Christ, can you smell that?”

As the two men neared the door of the flat Hollis suddenly became aware of the smell of food being cooked. He couldn’t tell what it was but that didn’t matter. He was starving and the smell made his mouth water and his belly growl. Stokes appeared from the other direction, moving with more speed than he had for weeks. The powerful aroma was like an alarm call.

“Morning, boys.” He grinned cheerfully. “Grub’s up!”

Stokes and Webb barged into the crowded flat and Hollis followed close behind. Harte and Lorna were in the small galley kitchen cooking on portable gas burners. Driver sat on his backside re-reading the same two-month-old newspaper he always read. Jas and Gordon stood at the window. Only Caron, Ellie, and Anita were missing. Jas glanced back over his shoulder to see who had arrived.

“Morning,” Hollis said as he walked over.

“Morning,” Gordon mumbled.

“What are you looking at?”

Jas sighed dejectedly. “The bodies, same as always. I was just trying to see if we actually achieved anything yesterday.”

Hollis peered over his shoulder. The morning had been misty so far but the sun was gaining strength and was beginning to burn away the haze. At the foot of the hill he could see where the battles with the dead had taken place over the last two days. There was a definite scar of dark discoloration where the bodies had been butchered and brutally battered back but, from this distance, it was hard to see how much land had actually been reclaimed. The reason for Jas’s lack of enthusiasm, however, was painfully obvious: no matter how much ground they’d gained, there was still an incalculable amount of work left to be done. Hollis lifted his eyes beyond the barrier and looked deeper into the crowd of corpses. It looked no different: still as large as ever, maybe even bigger. There were tens of thousands of bodies left to destroy, maybe more. For every one they’d hacked down, hundreds seemed to have taken its place.

“Going to take a little while, isn’t it?” he said, deliberately understating the scale of the problem.

“Going to take forever,” Gordon agreed, leaning his head against the glass.

“Is it worth the effort?” Hollis asked. No one answered.

“I busted my balls yesterday,” Jas complained, “and risked my neck. And for what? Wasn’t worth shit.”

“Of course it was,” Webb shouted across the room as he waited for his food. “Look how many of them we got rid of.”

“Yeah, but look how many are left.”

“Thousands,” Gordon said quietly. “Millions, even.”

“Less than yesterday, though,” Webb continued, grabbing a plate and filling his mouth with breakfast. “And we ain’t got to get rid of the lot of them, just enough so we can push what’s left back some more.”

“It’s not worth it,” Hollis announced. “Forget it, it’s not working. Don’t go back out there today.”

“Has that bang on the head knocked you stupid?” Webb asked. “’Course we’re going back out.”

“What else are we gonna do?” Stokes added, helping himself to food. “If we’re not out there killing them, all we’ll be doing is sitting in here watching them.”

“Haven’t actually seen you take one of them out yet,” Jas sneered.

“Piss off,” he spat, sending a spray of partially chewed food splattering over the kitchen worktop.

“Watch what you’re doing,” Lorna protested, screwing up her face in disgust and wiping away his greasy spittle with a damp cloth.

“At least I’m out there,” Stokes protested, picking up his plate and carrying it over to the window, still chewing. “There’s some folk here who’ve done nothing to help. At least I’m out there.”

“Okay, okay…” Jas said.

“Look at him,” Stokes ranted, pointing accusingly at Driver. “Lazy bastard sits and reads the same bloody newspaper all day, every day. We have to force him to do anything useful.”

Driver glanced up from his paper but didn’t react.

“You’ve made your point,” Jas sighed, “now shut up.”

“And there’s Caron,” he continued, still eating and still ranting. “Can’t remember the last time she went out and did anything worthwhile. Spends all her time sitting with Anita, and she’s no good either. Christ, how much looking after does she need? Just another fucking excuse if you ask me.”

“Well, maybe I’ll be able to do more to help now,” Caron said. The others turned as she walked into the room. She looked drained, her face ashen.

“What do you mean?” Harte asked. Caron tried to answer but she couldn’t. She slumped into the nearest chair and held her head in her hands. “What do you mean?” he asked again, crouching down in front of her. “What’s happened?”

Caron cleared her throat and wiped her eyes.

“She’s dead. Anita’s dead.”

“You’re joking,” Stokes said stupidly.

“Like she’d joke about that, you fucking idiot,” Harte snapped angrily.

Hollis turned back to look out of the window, trying to absorb what he’d heard. Even when the world was so full of death, this sudden loss was almost impossible to accept. He could hear the others talking, some crying, but he kept his emotions locked tight inside. He didn’t want them to see that he was completely fucking terrified at the prospect that whatever had killed Anita might still be hanging in the air he was breathing now. The next gulp of air I swallow, he thought, might be the one that kills me. He could see the reflections of the others behind him in the glass, and he sensed that they were all thinking exactly the same thing:

I might already have it. We all might. And there’s fuck all any of us can do about it.