“Look for the loading bay,” he suggested, hoping that their usual tactics would work. Driver was one step ahead of the game.
“Good idea,” Amir said quietly.
“We’ve done this before,” Harte mumbled.
The once-white supermarket building appeared dirty and decayed. Weeds and moss had sprung up around the entrance and had begun to climb the walls, their surprisingly aggressive growth rates no doubt increased by the plentiful nutrients supplied by the remains of the dead shoppers lying nearby.
“Fuel,” Hollis said, nodding toward the supermarket filling station on one edge of the car park. This was an excellent find. There was a tanker on the forecourt. If they were lucky it would still be full. If they were unlucky the fuel would be in the tanks beneath the pumps. Wherever it was stored, this was good news. Maybe they could even drive the tanker back if it was still loaded up. Not today, but later in the week perhaps. Hollis forced himself to concentrate on getting the maximum amount of supplies today, that was why they were here. They could make plans for their next trip tonight as they rested in comfort back at the hotel and ate decent food and drank themselves stupid.
“Doors are closed,” Harte said as they drove past the main entrance, wiping out another trio of curious cadavers.
“Is that good?” Amir asked. He thought it was a strange thing to say.
“Absolutely!” he replied. “You want to try going into one of those places when the doors have been left open? Swarming with those fucking things, they are. They’re drawn to shops even after they’re dead!”
“Are you serious?”
Harte laughed. “No, but it is easier when they’re closed up. Thing is, they can get into buildings easier than they can get out.”
“Like the golf course?”
“Exactly, and the longer you leave it, the more you’ll find stuck inside. Just adds to the fun!”
“Fun?” Amir grumbled nervously. He was sweating profusely and trying hard to remain calm. The bitter sadness he’d felt since returning to Bromwell had now been replaced by absolute fear. He wished he’d stopped at the hotel. He couldn’t believe he’d actually volunteered to come out here. It had seemed like a long-overdue opportunity to break the monotony of his prison-like surroundings, but now all he wanted was to be back in his “cell.”
Driver skillfully coaxed the bus around a tight corner and into the loading bay, knocking down the “maximum height” warning sign which hung from a barrier overhead as he reversed into position. This place obviously hadn’t been designed with double-decker passenger buses in mind.
“Bingo!” Jas said excitedly. “Look at that. Delivery!”
Hollis couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The morning was getting better by the minute. Straddled across the far end of the loading bay was a huge delivery lorry, decked out in the supermarket’s distinctive orange, yellow, and white livery. The doors at the back of it were hanging open and they could see that it was still more than three-quarters full. It looked like they might be able to get what they need without even having to risk going inside the store. Perfect.
“Going to have to stop here,” Driver announced. “Won’t get out if I go in much further.”
“Okay,” Hollis agreed, grabbing onto the nearest handhold again as the bus lurched to a sudden stop. The doors hissed open, letting in a blast of cold air from outside, accompanied by the fetid stench of dead flesh and rotten food. Sean and Webb thundered down the stairs from the top floor, weapons in hand, ready to get rid of the first few bodies which were already inching closer.
“I’ll keep those two in check,” said Jas, picking up the chain saw and squeezing out between Hollis and Harte. He ran after the others, quickly catching up with Sean. Webb was already level with the first of the advancing cadavers, wielding his baseball bat with typical blundering force, making short work of any corpses unfortunate enough to stagger within range.
“Do we try and block them off from the bus or…?” Sean started to ask, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous again, despite what he’d learned yesterday. Jas shook his head.
“Not worth it,” he replied. “We might as well just get rid of them. Makes it easier in the long run. Look, we can cut them off if we get closer to the bridge. Most of them are going to end up in the canal, so we’ll just be left with the ones that manage to get across. Dumb bastards.”
He started the chain saw and marched forward purposefully. Machete in hand, Sean followed close behind, figuring that he’d stay back and deal with those few corpses which managed to evade both Webb’s and Jas’s attacks.
Lorna, who had been quiet and subdued since leaving the hotel, quickly sprang into action. Hollis, Harte, and Amir were at the back of the lorry, discussing what to take first and how to best organize themselves.
“Come on,” she said, barging past them all and clambering up into the massive vehicle. “It won’t empty itself.”
Not waiting to hear their response, she grabbed the first thing she could lay her hands on—a tray of tins of beans—and slid it across the floor toward Hollis. He picked it up and carried it over to Harte, who had returned to the steps of the bus. He took the tray from him and took it down to the end of the vehicle where he stored it carefully in the foot-well just in front of the farthest seat back.
We need to pack this stuff carefully, he thought. The better we pack it, the more we’ll get in. The more we take now, the longer before we have to come out here again.
* * *
It took less time than they’d expected to empty the back of the lorry and transfer its contents to the bus. Hollis mooched around in the darker corners of the loading bay, keen to check they’d taken everything of value before leaving. He shifted a pile of traffic cones, shovels and other bits of maintenance equipment, then walked over to the other side of the bay to investigate a few wooden pallets which had been stacked up against a wall. He glanced back at the bus as he worked. The others were sitting on the steps up to the rear entrance of the store, drinking, eating, and catching their breaths before they headed home.
The pallets were of little interest. Some were broken, others had just been piled up awaiting collection by the next—
A single cadaver suddenly threw itself at Hollis, grabbing hold of him and sending him tumbling over. His heart thumping, he struggled to right himself and get a grip on the rancid figure which had rushed him. Where the hell had it come from? He forced his hand up, gripped the foul-smelling creature’s neck and squeezed. His gloved fingers dug deep into its rotting flesh, ripping open its disintegrating trachea and allowing all manner of disgusting dribbles of decay to squeeze out and run down his arm. His composure quickly returning after the sudden surprise of the attack, he gradually managed to shuffle himself around and roll right over so that the corpse lay beneath him and he could use his weight advantage to the full. He stared into its revolting face—a mass of pus, dried blood, ripped skin, and an infuriatingly vacant expression which seemed to scream so what? at him—and wondered how something so pathetic and inadequate could catch him off-guard like that. Was it just the fact that he couldn’t hear properly, or was he losing his touch? His confidence wavering, he angrily grabbed a long-shanked screwdriver which he’d been carrying and plunged it into the monster’s left temple. In one side and out the other. He pulled it out again, stood up and gave the suddenly limp figure an angry kick to the gut to make sure it wouldn’t get up.
“You okay, Hollis?” Jas shouted. “Having trouble?”