Dead Winter Read online

  “There's enough beds over in the bedroom section,” he told her, “And you can find bedding over there, too.”

  “We have to think about getting another vehicle,” River said.

  Poppy was sleeping soundly. Sage turned her head, not wanting to move from the comfort of the sofa as the rifle resting on the floor suddenly seemed out of place here, where everything around her reminded her of safer times. Chris turned his head, looking to River.

  “It's freezing out there, let me make some tea for you all.”

  “The cafe?” she asked.

  “Yes, and I'm more than happy to arrange some food too,” he confirmed, and as he turned to leave, she walked out with him.

  As they left, Sage stretched her aching legs, then kicked off her boots. She looked to the back of the room and gently nudged Poppy, who blinked away sleep and looked up at her.

  “We need some proper rest,” she said, and then she got up and Poppy gave a tired sigh as she got up too and followed her to the back of the store.

  It didn't take long to open up some packaging and lay pillows and duvets on the spare beds at the back of the room. One for Poppy, one for herself, then she laid out bedding on the rest of the single neds... then she looked over at the large double and as she smirked, Poppy noticed.

  “What's so funny, sis?” she asked.

  In the middle of this horrible crisis, a moment of humour felt like striking gold. She giggled.

  “I just counted up... we'd better grab a bed before the others do the same – there's not enough beds, someone has to share, it's not going to be me!”

  Sage looked around in time to see Mickey exit the store, he crossed to the other side and went into an off license, where he started to browse the scotch.

  “I swear, if Joy has to share with Mickey, and he's drunk – I'm going to turn my back, pretend to be asleep and try not laugh too loud!”

  “They're always arguing!” Poppy said as she laughed, “I'll pretend to be asleep too!”

  “But I want you to go to sleep right now, you need to rest,” Sage said, and she led her over to a small single bed that had a decorative light up tree next to it that gave off a soft glow, “I'll make sure you have something to eat later, when you wake up. You look so tired, Poppy.”

  “That's because I stayed up all night so I could catch the lorry,” Poppy told her as she took off her coat and boots and climbed into bed.

  Sage took off her own coat and placed it on the bed next to Poppy's, then she took off her boots and left them beside it, and as she turned back to her sister, she saw she was sleeping again. She quietly left the back of the store and went back to the sitting area, where the fire was warm and Mickey had just returned with a bottle of scotch. He put the bottle on the coffee table in front of him then leaned forward, struggling as he pulled his weak leg out of his boot, then took off the other one. Then he glanced at Sage.

  “What?”

  “I was just wondering why you still have your coat on,” she said.

  “Because it's full of jewellery, and it's mine,” he replied.

  He started to break into a light sweat because of the heat. Then he reached out with his weakened hand, snatching up a glass on the table, and the bottle connected loudly with it as he poured himself a generous shot. Five minutes later, he had another one. Sage suppressed a giggle. She felt pretty sure this situation was predictable: He would drink a lot of that bottle and fall asleep in the chair by the fire. Later, when everyone was asleep, he would realise there were no beds left... She hoped he chose the sofa, or who ever got the double wouldn't be too pleased about sharing with him, stinking of booze. Mickey had slowed down on his second drink as he swirled the liquid in the glass, watching as it looked deep amber beneath the artificial lighting.

  “It's been a long day,” he remarked, “And I'm sure tomorrow will be even worse if we have to leave.”

  “We can't stay long,” Sage reminded him, “I know you have your own plans, but the village has just over two week's supplies left before everything starts to run out. We have to keep moving.”

  He regarded her over the rim of his glass and smiled hopefully.

  “One more day would be good for all of us, Sage. I have mobility issues and Curtis has concussion.”

  She arched an eyebrow doubtfully.

  “You ran away from the hungry horde with no issues!”

  His eyes flashed with indignation.

  “I have partial paralysis!”

  “Very partial,” she replied, leaning back on the sofa as its softness eased away aches and pains, “Maybe you limped... a little bit. And I admit you couldn't turn back to shoot because the gun was in your weak hand and you could have turned your ankle. But you've got this far, you're not that weak, Mickey!”

  “I still need to rest,” he replied frostily, then he sipped his drink, looking to the fire as he said no more.

  As they stood behind the counter in the cafe, a smell of freshly cooked food lingered in the air, like a ghostly reminder of how life used to be. River watched as Chris filled a kettle then opened a cupboard, taking out a tray and then a tall silver teapot. He poured milk into a jug and while he waited for the kettle, she watched as he set mugs on a separate tray. His hands moved quickly but carefully, and he still had his shades on and he barely looked down as he worked...

  “What's your story?” she asked him, “I mean, how did you end up here?”

  “I used to be a teacher,” he said, “Bonnie's niece was one of my pupils, she used to pick her up from school sometimes and she told me she was the manager of this mall and when the evacuation happened, she said she was going to stay here, because it was secure and she asked if I wanted to stay too.”

  “You didn't have any family to go to?” River asked.

  She watched as he carefully poured the water into the pot, then set the kettle down.

  “No, my parents split up when I was young and my father lost contact with us. Then my mother met my stepfather, who didn't like me, but wanted more kids with her – I got pushed out. I left home after I went to college.”

  “How long have you been a teacher?” she asked.

  “Five years,” Chris replied, “I'm twenty nine next year – if I get to live through this year!”

  “I'm surprised you're a teacher,” River said.

  He turned his head as her gaze met with the blank black lenses of his shades.

  “Why?” he asked with a smile.

  She cast a glance at his athletic build. He looked like he worked out, he was in good shape – and he could clearly handle the undead and weapons, easily.

  “It's just the way you look and the way you handled that gun – I thought maybe you were a soldier.”

  He laughed.

  “No, I'm just a fast learner – I had to be! Guns are easy, point and shoot. I'm hoping I won't have to do any more shooting now we're secure here. What about you, where are you from, River?”

  He carefully laid out the trays as he asked that question. She watched as his hands reached for everything without looking, but carefully. Her question was still at the back of her mind, but he was waiting for an answer to a question of his own.

  “I'm a doctor,” she told him, “Used to work in London, moved to the countryside for a quiet life, and it was very quiet until the outbreak...”

  He had almost finished setting the tray. She quietly moved the sugar bowl next to the kettle and carried on talking.

  “...And my grandparents on my mother's side were Jamaican and my father's parents were Spanish. Dad was a barrister until he retired and Mum worked as a solicitor specialising in family law. They were in Spain when the outbreak happened, they have a house out there. I can only hope they're still alive....”

  she paused, watching as his hand passed over the empty space, then he felt around it with his fingertips.

  “You moved it.”

  “Sorry,” she slid the sugar bowl back to his hand, he put it on the tray and then turned toward
s her.

  “I'm a doctor, the others didn't notice but I saw how you negotiate the building. How can you shoot like that if you're blind?” she asked.

  He gave a heavy sigh.

  “You should know the answer to that, doctor.”

  She paused for thought, and understood at once.

  “When one sense is taken away, another compensates. You can hear them coming, you hear them so much sharper than the rest of us.”

  He briefly took off his glasses, looking at her with pale grey irises and pupils clouded over almost the same shade.

  “I lost my sight as a child. It was inherited, I started getting cloudy vision at seven and by the age of twelve I was like I am now - I can see dark and light and shapes and shadows. But I used it well, I became a teacher - I teach Braille. And when I fired those shots, I could hear them, I knew where they were – but I was up on the next level and all I could do was point and shoot and hope none of the living got hit.”

  “We didn't get hit, and you saved us,” River said with a smile.

  “It's not all bad, being blind at a time like this,” he told her, “At least I don't have to look at those creatures!” his smile faded, “I just have to hear and smell them instead... But at least we're safe in here.”

  Then he stepped back, focussing on the shadowy image that stood beneath the glare of the kitchen light. River realised he was trying to get an idea what she looked like, so she helped him out.

  “I have short dark hair, hazel eyes and my skin is brown. I'm five foot seven and a size ten in clothing.”

  He laughed softly.

  “And you have a lovely voice too.”

  “Thank you,” she said warmly, “Now, shall I take the tray with tea on it, and you take the cups?”

  “Yes please!” he said with a smile, “I hate carrying things, it took me days to learn the route from the cafe to the furniture store!”

  Then he put his glasses back on and he lifted the tray with the empty mugs.

  “River, do me a favour – don't tell the others I'm blind.”

  “Why not?” she asked as she lifted the other tray.

  “Because at a time like this, it's hard to trust anyone,” he told her, “And your people are not staying long, they don't need to know.”

  “And you don't need the challenge of blindness and lack of trust with strangers when the whole world is desperate for supplies and shelter?”

  “Exactly.”

  “That's understandable. I won't say a word. Shall I go first?”

  “No, I'll go first,” he said, “It's easier that way.” Then he began to carry the tray from the counter and out of the cafe as River followed, watching as he took carefully learned steps along a familiar route.

  By now, Joy and Curtis had returned with Bonnie after moving the bodies to the cold storage area in the butcher's shop, then locking the door to shut out the stink of rotted meat. Bonnie had closed the shutter when they were finished, then they had gone off to the toilets to wash their hands as Joy scrubbed with the soap and hoped it would be enough. Apparently the virus was only infectious by bite, but it was the thought of it...

  Now Joy sat on a dark blue sofa as Sage sat on the other one, and Bonnie went off to fetch some food. Curtis had thanked Chris and River for the tea, poured himself a mug and then took it off to bed, needing sleep and rest to properly recover from his injury. Sage was feeling tired as Chris sat down to join them and River sat beside him. Mickey was still by the fire, sweating in his snow coat as he snoozed in the comfortable chair, with a half empty bottle of whiskey on the table close by. Bonnie came back in with two large plates of sandwiches and set them down.

  “I'll do some hot food in the morning,” she said, taking a seat on the end of the other sofa, “Unless anyone can't wait? What about Poppy?”

  Sage glanced to the back of the store where Poppy was fast asleep.

  “I'll leave a sandwich next to her bed, she's asleep for the night now,” Sage replied, then she checked her watch. It was just gone six thirty in the evening. It had been a long, frightening day and this was the first time in a long while any of them had enjoyed comforts like this, and the much needed warmth was catching up with all of them as they sat there, quietly eating sandwiches and drinking hot tea feeling exhausted as Mickey snored softly in the armchair. Joy was thinking now, about the wrecked car and transport on to the coast.

  “We'll need a vehicle,” she said, “Maybe two – the van isn't big enough for everything we need to take back.”

  Bonnie spoke up reluctantly, knowing any option was better than none, but it wasn't a great option at all...

  “There's a lot of cars here,” she said, “You can take the lift to the upper floor – there's a multi storey car park back there. It's not huge, but there's three floors. There's bound to be cars and keys lying around along with ripped up drivers...That's the part of the building we don't access, because the only way in is the lift, and we keep it on the ground floor, locked up. If you want to go up there, you'll find vehicles. But you'll also find zombies.”

  “It's not a good idea,” added Chris, “There has to be another way. You won't stand a chance up there.”

  Joy said nothing in reply as she thought about the car park. They needed vehicles, there had to be a way to get up there, but now wasn't the time to think about it. She finished her tea and got up.

  “Maybe we should stay here for a couple of days, we need to think this through and work something out... if that's okay with you?” she glanced to Chris, who sipped his tea, then looked at her as Bonnie answered for both of them.

  “You're welcome to stay,” she said, “We've got more than enough room.”

  Chapter 5

  It was dark when Mickey woke up, feeling too hot in his coat and getting up unsteadily from the armchair. He clumsily negotiated around sofas, bumped into a table and swore loudly, then made his way over to the sleeping area. The decorative tree was glowing next to Poppy's bed, the petals throwing off a soft light and he looked around the sleeping space – everyone had a single bed, they were all taken. Then he saw the double bed over on the shadowy side of the room and made his way towards it.

  Sage slowly raised her head, having been woken by Mickey colliding with a thump as he knocked the table then said fuck. She giggled into the duvet, turning on her side as she quietly watched the scene unfold:

  Mickey folded back the cover, then took off his coat and as he laid it on the mattress, the stolen jewellery in his pockets sounded heavy as he carefully laid out the coat, then he took off his boots... and a light snapped on. Joy sat up blinking away sleep.

  “What the hell are you doing, Mickey?” she said loudly.

  Now River sat up too, looking across the darkened bedroom as Bonnie turned on her light and turned over.

  “I need a place to sleep!” Mickey said.

  “You stink of sweat and I can smell the booze, too!” Joy said.

  He swayed a little, blinked tired eyes and started to speak.

  “I fell asleep by the fire. I...I um...I need a bed...”

  He sounded ready to crash out, and as he looked to the those who had woken up and no one spoke, Joy gave a heavy sigh. They were supposed to be working together, and while Mickey hadn't got off to a good start by setting off the alarm and alerting the attention of a horde of zombies, it was still awkward to see him standing there, with no one offering him a space to sleep.

  “Just get in, shut up and let me get back to sleep!” said Joy, then she shifted over to the other end of the bed and turned out the light.

  “Thanks... thanks, Joy...” he mumbled as he stepped closer and bumped into the bedside table. Across the other side of the room, Sage gigged quietly. Then Mickey got heavily into bed.

  “Move right over!” Joy snapped.

  “Sorry Joy, sorry...” he murmured and then the room went silent, as Sage laughed quietly again.

  Next morning Joy was up first, leaving Mickey to sleep off his hangover. Curtis w
as still in bed as River, who was also up now, advised him to stay there and rest for the day, to be sure he was over the concussion. She gave him some pain relief for his headache and then left him to sleep. Bonnie and Chris were absent having got up much earlier. In this place the only daylight came in through the high glass roof above the top floor, and soft light filtered down into the mall as the morning broke, and the doors to the store were open, there was a smell of cooking breakfast in the air and as Sage got up she looked to Poppy's bed and saw she was absent. She put on her boots and left the store, smiling as she walked into the cafe to see Bonnie behind the counter cooking bacon as Joy sat at a table with River and they ate a full English breakfast without eggs, because everything else was available in tins or from storage, but the eggs had run out long ago. She said good morning and passed their table, then passed by Chris, saying Morning, as he said it back and carried on eating a bacon sandwich as steam rose from his mug of tea. Poppy was at a table at the back of the room, eating toast and beans and bacon.

  “This is nice, isn't it,” she said as she took a seat.

  Poppy looked up from her meal and smiled.

  “I wish we could stay here forever.”

  “So do I, but we can't. We might be able to stay a couple of days, but we have to figure out how to get some new transport, we have to move the medical supplies from the van and find some food for the village - and we won't find it here.”

  River glanced back at her.

  “Sage,” she said, “We should think about the car park.”