Read Online No Zombies Please We Are British by Alex Laybourne - Free Book Online Page A

this. Nobody can understand what it will take. We are under attack, and the casualties will be heavy. Those who survive will have to change in order to stay alive.” There was something in the way the old man was speaking that put Jack on edge.
    “What do we do until then?” he asked, looking for advice, for someone else to tell him that it will all be ok.
    “We change. The rules of life itself have been altered. So too must we change the rules of living. You must understand the dead. Learn how they work. A body that is freshly dead still seems to be alive, in many ways. Their speed, their strength, it is very much like that of the living. Those longer dead, become stiff with death, rigor mortis, you see. But after twelve hours. That is when the changes really start to happen.” George stirred his tea, placed the silver spoon on the saucer and took a long sip.
    “How do you know all this?” Jack asked, feeling uncomfortable.
    “Death was my business for many years. I was an undertaker, you see. Not that it gives me any advantage or special knowledge. I’m just repeating what I know, and hope that it will help you on your way.”
    Again, the same ominous feeling swept over Jack, like a shadow over the ground on a summer’s day.
    George said nothing but took another long drink of his tea. His hands had started to shake.
    “I’m not going to survive this new world. There is no place for the elderly. We slow you down.” He turned his head and looked at Jack with tears in his eyes.
    “What do you mean? You’re fitter than me.” Jack tried to smile, but the pieces were beginning to fit together.
    “Not for long. Find your way to London. Get your girl and make sure you tell her exactly how much she means to you. Every damned day.” George reached out and shook Jack’s hand. Doing so before Jack even realized he had offered it.
    George turned and walked away without saying another word.
    “George, George, wait,” Jack called, after finding the silence of the room too much for him to bear.
    The living room was at the back of the house on the second floor. The kitchen was on the ground floor, along with a small dining room. Jack was moving down the stairs when he heard the first sounds of a struggle. Picking up speed, he hit the small hallway at a run and charged into the kitchen.
    “George, you don’t have to do this …” he began, but words failed him the moment his brain processed the scene before him.
    In his mind, Jack envisioned George killing his wife and then himself. What he saw was quite different. Mary was standing with her hands around George’s throat. Her head was tilted to one side. Her lips were pulled back exposing dentures, which had come loose at some point in time. Mary snarled and snapped, as her teeth found George’s aged, yet tantalizing flesh.
    Without thinking, Jack strode forward and picked up the large cook’s knife from the counter top. He stabbed down through the back of Mary’s head. The blade pierced her skull with ease, and slid through the grey jelly that was her brain, before tearing through the skin between her cheek and nose.
    The body went limp immediately and fell forward against George. The false teeth fell from her mouth and landed on the floor.
    George wrapped his arms around his wife and held her still. He said nothing, but kissed her on the forehead and laid her down on the floor.
    “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” George strained to speak. “The tea was supposed to kill us both. Poison.”
    “Why?” Jack asked, confused.
    “I told you. We are old. Mary has cancer, and I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease last June. Our days are numbered. Recent events just pushed up the date, that’s all.” George raised his head to look at Jack. His eyes were stained red with tears. “Don’t you worry about me. Go on upstairs. Lock the kitchen door, there is a key on this side you can use. Get some rest upstairs and leave.”
    As he spoke, George walked