The Undead Day Nineteen by RR Haywood Page B

attention but it works and his expression transforms as he flicks his eyes over to the corpses nearby.
    ‘Yeah,’ he twitches, again unable to voice his feelings, ‘s’fucked up.’
    ‘Then we should prioritise the disposal of the deceased. Do you think so?’
    He doesn’t know what prioritise means but he thinks she means they should get rid of his dead mates first. He nods, trying to look like he understands.
    ‘This must be very sad for you,’ she says softly, showing pity on the outside while feeling something else altogether on the inside. A hardening. A revulsion for all that he is. A wish to be away from him and his kind. A desire to repel him and get him as far away as possible. She saw the bulge in his trousers when he turned to look at the bodies and knows exactly what he is thinking. The reaction is so strong and for that briefest of seconds she wishes she had the skills of Dave or Mr Howie. She’s not the only young woman in the fort. There are plenty of teenage girls hiding down amongst the survivors. Girls in their early twenties too. Full breasted women that will soon get the eyes of the boys carrying guns and the cackling of the girls in the police office.
    The Lord of the Flies and the primeval desire for power with youths driven by chemicals pumping through their immature bodies forcing them to grow into men and women. Testosterone. Oestrogen. Raging hormones that swing moods from buoyant and wild abandon to downright evil with an utter disregard for the needs of anyone else. Too immature to grasp the concept of having half their own group killed but mature enough to have erections and sexual desires.
    ‘We must stay busy,’ Lilly mutters, voicing her thoughts. ‘I mean, we should make a start and…and…’
    ‘See my room later then yeah?’ Zayden asks, giving warning of a dogged determination.
    ‘I er…I think…er yes, yes that would be lovely.’
    Nick. You have to come back. You must come back. Please, come back.

Seven
     
    ‘Look at him,’ Sam mutters, stepping closer to Pea, ‘He’s like a dog on heat. How old is she?’
    ‘Fifteen,’ Pea says.
    ‘Where do you want us?’ A woman asks making both of them turn round.
    ‘Hi,’ Pea says, ‘you’ve had a drink?’
    The woman nods as she casts a worried look to the two armed boys standing nearby, ‘Any food?’ She asks, dropping her voice for fear of being heard. ‘My lot are starving.’
    Sam looks past the woman to her group standing a few feet back. Young children clinging to grandparents already frail and weak but doing their best to show resilience and a stiff upper lip.
    ‘Not yet,’ Sam says sadly.
    ‘Okay,’ the woman says dully, ‘Where do you want us? Someone said you’re organising the work parties?’
    ‘Er yes,’ Pea says, exchanging a glance with Sam, ‘you’ve got young children?’
    ‘Three.’
    ‘Can you start with the tents please?’ Pea asks. ‘We’ve got bodies to clear but…’
    ‘But we’ll ask people that don’t have children,’ Sam finishes her sentence, sensing Pea struggling to say the words.
    ‘Children?’ The woman asks, showing confusion.
    ‘The bodies,’ Sam says. ‘They’re mostly kids.’
    ‘All kids,’ Pea adds, dropping her gaze.
    ‘Oh,’ the woman sighs heavy and long, ‘tents then,’ she says with an air of resignation, ‘where are we putting them?’
    ‘Gates?’ Sam asks, nudging Pea.
    ‘I think so, get them stacked ready to take away.’
    The woman moves off with her head bowed and heavy legs that trudge back to her group. Everyone is the same. Heads down. Eyes averted. Conversations muted and whispered.
    ‘She needs to be careful,’ Sam says.
    ‘Careful?’ Pea asks, staring after the woman, ‘Why? What’s she done?’
    ‘Not her brainache,’ Sam says with a tut knowing Pea won’t take offence, ‘Lilly.’
    ‘Oh, that boy.’
    ‘Yes that boy and he’s not a boy. He’s a walking erection with a gun.’
    Pea can’t help but snort a dry