Zombies! Outbreak Huddersfield – Part 3

WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS SWEARING, VIOLENCE AND GORE

Paul drove slowly down Penistone Road out of Fenay Bridge and into Waterloo. He had already smashed the front of the new reg BMW, trying to drive through the barrier out of his flats car park. It had taken three goes to actually break through, unlike the envisioned tyre screaming escape smashing through balsa wood barrier movies had taught him it should be like. Not that it mattered as its owner was currently trying to eat his neighbours.

Waterloo was silent save for a few Zombies shambling about; he gave them a wide berth. The road was littered with cars, some of which he was forced to nudge out of the way to get passed. So far the zombies, when they were close enough, had simply pawed at the glass unable and unintelligent enough not to smash it. He thought he saw a few live people at one point but they were running down a side street and soon disappeared out of view. Passing Dalton Green lane he noticed it had been barricaded off with some parked cars. Several bodies lay on this side, probably zombies that had tried to get through, it seemed quiet now however. Paul was about to get out when he saw through a gap in the make shift fortification a zombie eating an arm on the other side. Obviously the barricade had not held, or else the dead had found a way round. He drove on slowly, looking into the houses for signs of life.

The Tolson museum was on fire to his left, the blaze burning unchecked as a few mesmerised zombies stood watching the inferno. Paul chastised himself for never going in before; it was always somewhere you forget to visit, even though it was on his doorstep.

The zombies became more numerous the closer he got to town as did the crashed and abandoned cars, more fires burned in the background. Ignoring traffic conventions he drove across the lanes and up a one way street into Moldgreen. Outside the day and night mini market a group of hooded zombies mulled about around the corpse of a shop assistant. The door to the store stood wide open, this was probably the only situation in which the youths would not have been stuffing as much white lightning cider and Lambert and Butlers into their coats as possible.

Paul turned the corner on to Dave’s street; it looked strange, there were places to park.

He turned the engine off and looked up at the dilapidated terrace, its blinds were closed and it looked like no one was home. This was a good sign as Dave rarely left the house, a committed agoraphobic and hater of sunshine.

Grabbing the crowbar Paul cautiously got out of the car onto the quiet street. With a brief glance around he struggled through the overgrown hedgerow and up the broken stone steps. He knocked twice.

Nothing.

Well it had been a long shot anyway; who in there right minds would have stopped in a town overrun with zombies. He tried the handle, it was fast, locked.

Chastising himself for being so stupid as to risk driving over here he booted the door in frustration. There was a noise from inside then a growling voice shouted out. “Alright! Fer fucks sake.”

Keys jangled on the other side and the door opened to reveal Dave in a grubby dressing gown that could possibly have been blue in its former life.

“WHAT!…Oh alright Paul, thought you were those bloody kids mucking about again.”

He padded back through the piled up mail refuse behind the door into the gloom of his living room. Paul quickly locked the front door and joined him.

Dave slumped into a settee that looked like it had been in a fight with a truck, a game controller appearing in his hands.

“You err, not been outside then?” Paul asked amazed at Dave’s obliviousness to the danger.

“Mmph?” Dave replied his eyes starring fixedly at the screen. “MOTHERFUCKER!” he screamed so loudly that Paul jumped off the arm of the settee his crowbar held high ready to strike.

“Son of a bitch has been camping by that spawn point all morning. Soon as you spawn, BAM!”

“Dave have you been in here all week playing battlefield?” enquired Paul angrily.

Dave gave him a look that confirmed he though Paul was insane. “Of course. I’m on holiday aren’t I, what else am I going to do?”

“And no one mentioned what has happened online?” said Paul incredulously

“I turned off the voice bit; they’re all whiney yank kids, bitching like babies when they get shot. Who wants to listen to that? You got to remember the demographic that is playing during office hour’s mate. People on a different time zone, kids skiving school and the unemployed. It’s like watching jobfinder or hanging around the park, you only do it when you have to”

“Plus you hate everyone anyway.”

“Well there is that, I’ll grant you. Why are you not at work anyway?”

After several refusals, two cups of tea and a pizza sandwich Paul took Dave outside. Within ten meters they came across a few bodies that were serving as lunch to a zombie with no legs wearing a T-shirt that said “Do you think I’m sexy on it?”

For possibly only the second time in his life Dave ran back home, locking Paul out in the process. When he finally did let Paul back in he was using his mobile phone.

“How have you got a signal mines dead?” asked Paul

Dave ignored him, putting his finger to his lips. “Yo Flynn, I don’t suppose you can sort me out can you? Yeah two bags please. Ok, about half an hour, great.”

Paul eyed him suspiciously, “What are you up to, do you have a way out for us?” he asked hopefully.

Dave jumped back onto the settee picking up the controller again. “Eh? Oh no that was Flynn, he’s bringing us some weed round. I can’t face all that,” he pointed to the window, “without some green gold.”

“So your big plan for the apocalypse is to get caned and play Battlefield?”

“Yep, already got beer in the fridge. Besides someone will be sorting it out wont they”

“I don’t believe this! Its zombie town out there anyway, you’ll never see this Flynn….top left on the balcony, good shot. There’s no way you’ll get your weed.” Said Paul slumping off the arm into the settee.

They played battlefield for a while, three lives each before a pass. Paul drank a beer and wondered about just heading out by himself.

Someone thumped on the door and Paul sprang to his feet again, grabbing the crowbar off the debris strewn coffee table.

Dave got off the settee, “Whoa what do you think your doing?”

“I’m just, you know getting ready for trouble” replied Paul.

“Well chill Winston, Flynn don’t like strangers, so sit down.” Said Dave oblivious to Paul’s look of amazement.

Within seconds Dave returned from the door carrying two small and exceptionally fragrant bags of green.

“What did he say?” asked Paul.

“About what?” said Dave breathing in the vapours from a bag and smiling.

“About the cost of milk. About the frigging zombies outside you tit!” yelled Paul.

“You don’t talk to Flynn, he just delivers and gets out. Its what makes him reliable, pass me the rizzlas will you.”

“I don’t believe this, I don’t believe you. We need to get out of here dude, we need…” Paul was cut off by Dave answering his phone.

“Alright mate, Nah. Just playing Battlefield, gonna have a smoke if you fancy. Yeah come on down.” He ended the call and returned straight to playing the game.

“Well!” asked Paul.

“Eh? Oh its Martin, he’s on his way over.”

“Where is he?

“Dunno, said summat about killing his brother then he’d be down.”