Zombies! Outbreak Huddersfield – Part 4

WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS SWEARING, VIOLENCE AND GORE

Paul was well on his way to being drunk by the time someone knocked on the door again. Dave, who could no longer move thanks to the potency of his latest purchase, simply pointed in the vague direction of the noise and said, “Door”.

Paul struggled up from the sofa, knocking over a few empty bottles; he opened the front door, forgetting the possible zombie inundation this might create.

Martin stood on the doorstep, covered in blood and carrying a six-pack of beer.

Paul looked drunkenly confused for a moment, the sight of Martin covered in enough blood for a transfusion battled against the sight of newly arrived beer. The beer won and he threw his hands in the air and shouted, “Hurray!”

He dragged Martin in and presented him to Dave, slurring, “Look its Martin!”

Dave waved at Martin ignoring his appearance and simply said, “It’s your turn to skin up”.

Martin grabbed a cold beer from the fridge in the kitchen, swapping it for his own contribution and then came back to sit in the armchair, ignoring the weed for the moment.

Apparently he had driven here in his brothers brand new 4×4, right after he had decapitated him with a carving knife. He and his brother, Pete, had been holed up in Martins tiny terraced house in Quarmby. They had been in the middle of a Battlestar Galactica marathon, when Martins neighbours had popped round for a bite to eat, via the living room window. Martin’s brother had been bitten as they barricaded themselves upstairs, using Martins memory foam mattress and large pornography collection. They had held out for a couple of days, whilst the Zombies put face prints in the mattress, but eventually Pete had turned.

Dave, who was starting to come round again after bursting into fits of laughter when Martin told the part about cutting off his own brother head, said sagely, “That’s messed up,” and started making another joint.

Martin looked around the room for a while, and then in a businesslike voice asked “So what’s the plan?”

Paul and Dave stared at each other for a moment.

“Well, Dave’s plan is to get caned and play battlefield” Paul replied.

“It’s a good plan, but two bags wont last us long” said Martin speaking in an authoritative voice, having spent many years sharing bags of weed with Dave. “Has anyone heard from Jason?”

Paul and Dave exchanged glances again.

“Not as such no,” Paul said tentatively.

“You haven’t rung him have you?” Martin said, a wry smile coming to his face.

“Well my phone doesn’t work, and well, we haven’t had” Paul looked at the bottles and the darkening sky outside, “haven’t had the time…”

“I haven’t rung him either” Martin explained in a matter of fact way.

“He’ll be fine” piped up Dave, “He’s probably renting his spare room to zombies.”

Martin and Paul nodded.

Martin opened another beer. “You know what we should do,” Dave started to look uncomfortable, so Martin quickly added, “but tomorrow.”

“What?” Dave asked hesitantly, the thought of actual physical action more disturbing than zombies breaking in.

“We should go shopping; you know, get to the supermarket and load up. Only without the paying bit obviously. We can pick up Jason on the way.”

“Yeah, well the git will want a lift wont he. He wouldn’t drive.” Paul replied sarcastically. He then suddenly slapped his forehead hard. “Shit!”

“What?” Martin asked.

“Of course” Paul explained, “We already know what we are going to do.”

“We do?” said Dave incredulously.

“We have had this conversation a million times before, every time we watch a zombie film.” He looked at their blank faces and continued. “Well? Where is the place we said we would head straight for, in any end of the world situation?”

All three smiled and then repeated together, “Kirklees Guns!”