Read Online No Zombies Please We Are British by Alex Laybourne - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Alex Laybourne
Tags: Zombies
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towards Jack and helped usher him out into the hall. He placed the key in Jack’s left hand, and shook his right one, one last time.
“Thank you, Jack,” he said, and closed the door.
Jack stood and stared at his hands, more specifically at the key that lay in his palm. For a moment, he considered just opening the door and walking back inside. He didn’t. Eventually, he slid the key into the lock, turned it, and walked away.
The sun was going down and long shadows extended from the shambling creatures who seemed to be milling about in the street. Jack didn’t count them, but he guessed their numbers to be close to fifty. On both sides of the street, houses stood occupied. Lights illuminating their windows; providing safety to those inside, while serving as quite the draw for the undead. It was clear to see the houses illuminated with the brightest lights garnered the most attention from the hungry dead.
Moving up to the second, and eventually third floor of the house, Jack looked around. He felt oddly cold as he made his way through the rooms. The bathroom with its tiled walls and dated decoration. A bathtub in place of a shower, and a cupboard with a near endless supply of toothbrushes, mouthwash, toothpastes, and an assortment of medicines bearing both George’s and Mary’s names.
The main bedroom was a simple affair. A large, old, but terribly comfortable-looking bed occupied the majority of the room. Thick, white-cased pillows and a matching duvet covered the bed. The curtains were pulled back and the warm evening glow filled the room. There was no television, no sign of mobile phones, or anything else modern. A pile of books stood on both nightstands on either side of the bed, and a dresser occupied the far corner. Jewellery and watches, perfumes and aftershaves decorated the top.
Jack took it all in, turning around as he felt the peace of the room wash over him. Then he made the mistake of looking out the window and saw a man fighting off three very lively undead freaks. One of them was using the man’s own arm as a club, seemingly seeking to tenderize his flesh before it dug in for its evening meal.
Jack couldn’t bring himself to lie down in George and Mary’s bed. He didn’t know them from Adam, but they had saved him, and they reminded him of his grandparents. Instead, he moved out into the narrow hallway and into the second bedroom.
The room was smaller, but no less comfortable looking. The single bed was decked with the same thick, cloud-like pillows and duvet. Cream-coloured sheets and pale yellow walls; the room was a pastel overload but it worked. Jack sat on the bed, ignoring the chair in the corner of the room. He took off his shoes and looked at his feet on the plush carpet.
“Fists with your toes,” he said with a smile. The smile became a laugh, and before he knew it he was lying on the bed with tears in his eyes and a stitch in his side.
Scooting further up the bed, he lay for a while and realized just how fucked up life was becoming. George had been right. The world was changing, and as much as he hated what it was becoming, Jack had no interest in throwing in the towel just yet.
The window looked out onto several other houses, overlooking the rear of the property. The dead were milling about in the street, but that was not what held his attention. The rest of the world did that just fine.
Looking through the illuminated windows across the street, Jack gazed as he saw a woman in the kitchen, cooking a meal. Her husband was at the table with the kids. He could not see what they were doing, but in his mind, he saw them colouring together. One happy family. A few doors down, he saw a woman working out. Her body was jumping and moving, pushing weights around as she kept up with the instructions that played on her television. The final house that he could see had a couple fucking. They were standing up, the girl with her back against the wall, while the man held her there, his hips
“Thank you, Jack,” he said, and closed the door.
Jack stood and stared at his hands, more specifically at the key that lay in his palm. For a moment, he considered just opening the door and walking back inside. He didn’t. Eventually, he slid the key into the lock, turned it, and walked away.
The sun was going down and long shadows extended from the shambling creatures who seemed to be milling about in the street. Jack didn’t count them, but he guessed their numbers to be close to fifty. On both sides of the street, houses stood occupied. Lights illuminating their windows; providing safety to those inside, while serving as quite the draw for the undead. It was clear to see the houses illuminated with the brightest lights garnered the most attention from the hungry dead.
Moving up to the second, and eventually third floor of the house, Jack looked around. He felt oddly cold as he made his way through the rooms. The bathroom with its tiled walls and dated decoration. A bathtub in place of a shower, and a cupboard with a near endless supply of toothbrushes, mouthwash, toothpastes, and an assortment of medicines bearing both George’s and Mary’s names.
The main bedroom was a simple affair. A large, old, but terribly comfortable-looking bed occupied the majority of the room. Thick, white-cased pillows and a matching duvet covered the bed. The curtains were pulled back and the warm evening glow filled the room. There was no television, no sign of mobile phones, or anything else modern. A pile of books stood on both nightstands on either side of the bed, and a dresser occupied the far corner. Jewellery and watches, perfumes and aftershaves decorated the top.
Jack took it all in, turning around as he felt the peace of the room wash over him. Then he made the mistake of looking out the window and saw a man fighting off three very lively undead freaks. One of them was using the man’s own arm as a club, seemingly seeking to tenderize his flesh before it dug in for its evening meal.
Jack couldn’t bring himself to lie down in George and Mary’s bed. He didn’t know them from Adam, but they had saved him, and they reminded him of his grandparents. Instead, he moved out into the narrow hallway and into the second bedroom.
The room was smaller, but no less comfortable looking. The single bed was decked with the same thick, cloud-like pillows and duvet. Cream-coloured sheets and pale yellow walls; the room was a pastel overload but it worked. Jack sat on the bed, ignoring the chair in the corner of the room. He took off his shoes and looked at his feet on the plush carpet.
“Fists with your toes,” he said with a smile. The smile became a laugh, and before he knew it he was lying on the bed with tears in his eyes and a stitch in his side.
Scooting further up the bed, he lay for a while and realized just how fucked up life was becoming. George had been right. The world was changing, and as much as he hated what it was becoming, Jack had no interest in throwing in the towel just yet.
The window looked out onto several other houses, overlooking the rear of the property. The dead were milling about in the street, but that was not what held his attention. The rest of the world did that just fine.
Looking through the illuminated windows across the street, Jack gazed as he saw a woman in the kitchen, cooking a meal. Her husband was at the table with the kids. He could not see what they were doing, but in his mind, he saw them colouring together. One happy family. A few doors down, he saw a woman working out. Her body was jumping and moving, pushing weights around as she kept up with the instructions that played on her television. The final house that he could see had a couple fucking. They were standing up, the girl with her back against the wall, while the man held her there, his hips
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