Autumn Read online

  He couldn’t get the phone to work.

  He was sure he was doing it right, just how Mom had shown him. He highlighted his dad’s name on the list, then clicked call to make it ring. He kept trying but it wouldn’t work. It looked like it was going to, but then it just bleeped in his ear three times, then disconnected. It kept on happening. After a while the empty battery picture came back on for a second before the phone switched itself off for good.

  #

  The day dragged on, and Dean became increasingly cold and hungry. He sat on the pavement next to his dead mother and ate the packed lunch from his school bag while he waited for his dad to come home from work.

  By half-past six, when it was starting to get dark and still no one had come, Dean started to panic. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to go back to the house, but he didn’t want to leave Mom outside on her own. He tried to drag her again but only managed to move her a little way. When he touched her skin now she felt even colder than he was. When the light had almost completely disappeared, he reluctantly accepted he had to go in. He tucked Mom under the blanket again, checked the pillow was under her head, then ran back to the house.

  Dean struggled with the front door again. Finding the right key had been hard enough in daylight, now it was almost impossible. Nothing much was working when he finally managed to get inside. The lights came on and so did the television but nothing was on any of the channels. The radio in the kitchen was silent too. He tried to dial 999 from the house phone but still no one answered. He locked the door (Dad had his own key and would be able to let himself in when he got back) and went upstairs. He sat on the end of his bed and looked out of the window and waited. From where he was sitting he could just about see the top of Mom’s head on the pavement.

  #

  It was kind of exciting for a while, being on my own in the house like that. It made me feel grown up. Even though it was dark out and cold I could do whatever I wanted. I read for a bit and did some drawings. I wanted to play games but I couldn’t get the computer to work.

  I kept getting upset when I looked out of the window and saw Mom, especially when it got really dark. I didn’t like leaving her out there. I tried not to cry and I kept hoping that I’d see Dad coming home soon. I sometimes used to sit in my room and wait for him to come home from work. I used to know which car was his as soon as it turned into our road from the noise, but the weird thing was I didn’t see any cars at all, not one.

  I got myself some crisps and chocolate from the kitchen and ate them in my room. Mom never let me do that normally, but it wasn’t a normal night and I didn’t think she’d mind.

  I’m not that good at telling the time yet. I know when it’s something o’clock or half-past something, but I get mixed-up with quarter-past and quarter-to’s. I remember going to the toilet and then looking at the alarm clock in Mom and Dad’s room. I think it said it was almost ten o’clock but I wasn’t sure. Whatever time it was, I knew that it was way past bedtime and then I started to get really scared because Dad should definitely have been home from work. I didn’t know why he hadn’t come back. Maybe he’d been going out somewhere and Mom hadn’t told me? Maybe there was a problem he needed to sort out. That happened quite a lot.

  Some nights in the school holidays I used to try and stay up as long as I could but I always seemed to fall asleep. Now I wanted to get to sleep but I couldn’t. I wanted it to be morning. I didn’t like being on my own in the dark. I thought about going back out and sitting with Mom for a bit but I was too scared. I didn’t want to go downstairs on my own. The moon came out a few times and when it did I could see her. She was still lying on the pavement where I’d left her. I wished she’d get up and come in.

  #

  When Dean woke up next morning, it was late. It was almost midday by the time he climbed out of bed. He’d stayed awake all night and had then slept through almost the entire morning. He lay still for a while and went over the events of the previous day in his head. He remembered his mom and how he’d left her lying on the pavement outside. He jumped up and his heart sank when he saw that she was still there in the exact same position. Then he remembered his dad. Surely he must have been home by now? He checked his parents’ bedroom but the bed hadn’t been slept in. The car wasn’t outside either. Why hadn’t Dad come back yet?

  The sunlight had been streaming in through Dean’s window, warming the area on the top of his bed where he’d curled up and fallen asleep. The temperature dropped noticeably as he moved around the rest of the house. He took off his school uniform (which he’d slept in) and threw it downstairs for Mom to wash. Then he grabbed the warmest clothes he could find and got dressed. He’d never known the house to be this cold. And it was quiet too. There usually always seemed to be noise all around him and this silence was frightening.

  Breakfast, his mom told him almost every morning, was the most important meal of the day. Dean fetched himself some cereal, a slice of bread and a few biscuits. He couldn’t find anything else. He didn’t know how to use the oven or the kettle or toaster. Mom had shown him how to make a pizza in the microwave before now and he decided he’d do that for tea. Maybe Dad would be back then and he could make him some too.

  Dean put on his school coat. Clutching his food and a half-full bottle of lemonade, he went back out to where his mom still lay. All day he sat on the pavement next to her. He didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t feel safe anywhere else. During the course of the day he tried again to drag her closer to home. He managed to move her a couple more metres, almost to the edge of their drive, but that was all. As the darkness drew in again he went back indoors. The lights weren’t working when he got inside, and neither was anything else electric.

  #

  I couldn’t help it. I didn’t mean to do it, I got scared and it just happened. Mom’s going to be mad at me.

  I’d been sitting outside with her for ages but I came back in when it started to get dark. When I got inside the house it was all quiet and empty again and I got really scared. I could hear loads of noises and I knew what they all were but they still scared me. There was dripping water coming from the freezer in the kitchen and I could hear the blind at the window in Mom and Dad’s room blowing in the wind, making a tapping noise. And every so often the wind made the letter box in the front door flap. Mom’s been nagging at Dad for ages to get it fixed but he hasn’t had time. It sounded like someone coming to the house, and the first few times it happened I ran to the door because I thought it was going to be Mom or Dad. I got really upset when there was no one there.

  I didn’t want to go upstairs. I wanted to hide away out of sight so I crawled under the dining room table. I only came out a couple of times, first to get some more food from the kitchen and then to try and find my torch. I got myself another packet of crisps and the last bar of chocolate from the cupboard. I wanted some bread and butter but I must have left the bread open because it had gone all hard and it tasted horrible. All of the lemonade and cans of Coke had gone. I had to drink the orange juice I don’t like but I made it too strong and it made me feel a bit sick. I was really thirsty though so I kept drinking it.

  It didn’t feel like home anymore. Everything felt different without Mom and Dad, really strange, and it was getting colder and colder. I still didn’t want to go upstairs so I put my coat back on and the dirty school jumper that I’d thrown downstairs for Mom to wash. Thinking about Mom and Dad made me upset again. I was starting to think I was never going to see Dad again. I was glad I’d missed two days of school, but I’d rather have gone and had everything back how it used to be.

  I’ve made a real mess in here now. Mom and Dad are going to be mad at me. The dark frightens me so I tried to light the big yellow candle that Mom keeps on the sideboard. I took it under the table and used a match from the box out of the kitchen. Anyway, I lit the candle and I must have had it too close to the tablecloth because it started burning. It burned really, really quick. I got out from under the table
and used the rest of the orange juice to put out the fire. I tried to pull the tablecloth off but I didn’t know there were plates and things still on it and they fell on the carpet and some of them smashed. That made me upset again because the noise made me jump and because I knew that Mom would be cross that I’d broken her plates. She always got cross if I broke a plate or a dish or a cup. I didn’t want to move because I was scared I might cut myself on some of the broken pieces.

  I think I fell asleep. When I woke up I was all wet. I thought it was just orange juice at first but then I realised it was all over my trousers and all over the floor and I knew I’d wet myself. I haven’t wet myself since I was four. It was all over the carpet and I tried to clean it up with the burnt tablecloth but all that did was make things worse. My trousers were soaked so I took them off. I put my coat over me and tried to keep warm but I couldn’t stop shivering.

  #

  Exhausted, and suffering from shock and mild exposure, Dean slept intermittently for a further few hours. The morning finally arrived, bringing with it some welcome light and warmth. He went upstairs and got himself some clean clothes. He smelled from the accident he’d had in the night. He tried to wash but the water was too cold. He used some of Dad’s deodorant spray to cover up the smell.

  Dean was finding it harder and harder to be upstairs on his own. Dad had recently decorated the spare room as a nursery, ready for the birth of Dean’s baby brother. He’d painted teddy bears and cartoon characters on the walls and there were lots of stuffed toys in there too. When Dean walked past the open nursery door he felt like the toys’ eyes were moving, watching him as he crept around the house, doing things he shouldn’t.

  While Dean was up in his bedroom getting changed, he noticed that his mom had gone. For a second he was excited and relieved and he ran back downstairs to find her, expecting that she’d be back indoors, cleaning up the mess he’d made or just sitting on the sofa waiting for him. When he found that she wasn’t there he slumped against the wall at the bottom of the stairs and began to sob. Why had she left him? Why hadn’t she come back to the house? This sudden rejection hurt more than anything else. He knew he had to go and find her.

  Dean grabbed his smelly coat from where he’d left it at the bottom of the banister and put on his trainers. He stepped out into the open, shut the door behind him, locked it (he was pretty sure he’d done it properly) and then put Mom’s keys in his trouser pocket.

  She hadn’t taken her bag. Strange that she’d left it there in the middle of the street. And her phone too.

  He picked up the phone and held it tightly. He picked up the bag as well but put it down again at the end of the road because it was quite big and heavy and because he didn’t think there was anything that important in it. Mom always carried her purse and her money in her coat pocket because it was safer. Dean tucked the bag out of sight at the end of someone’s drive, intending to take it back to the house later.

  Where was she? Where had she gone?

  Strange that there were other people moving around now. Strange that none of them seemed to see him, even when he got up close. Strange how all of their faces looked so cold and empty and how none of them answered when he asked them for help.

  #

  I think I know the way to Dad’s work because Mom’s taken me there on the bus loads of times when we’ve been to meet him in the school holidays. I’m going to try and walk there even though I know it’s a long way. It’s going to take ages.

  I’m going to go and find Dad and then the two of us will go and find Mom.

  DAY FIVE

  AMY STEADMAN

  Part iii

  A further two days have passed since Amy Steadman’s corpse began to re-animate. It is now five days since first infection and death.

  Amy has continued to move around her immediate surroundings. Until now her movements have been automatic and spontaneous and any changes in direction have occurred purely as a result of the corpse reaching a physical obstruction and being unable to keep moving forward. Amy’s corpse is little more than an empty collection of bones, rotting tissue and dead flesh. At this stage she does not have any conscious control or decision making capabilities.

  Although animated, Amy remains oblivious to her surroundings and to her increasing physical limitations. Her body is continuing to decay and the lack of a functioning circulatory system is beginning to cause movement problems. Gravity has steadily pulled the contents of her abdomen downwards. Blood has swollen her hands and feet and her bowels are gradually evacuating involuntarily. Her face, already tinged with the blue-green hue of decay, is otherwise drained of colour.

  Until now Amy’s body’s nervous system has been operating at a massively reduced level. Her corpse is oblivious to changes in its surroundings such as temperature, humidity and light levels. Several hours ago her clothing became snagged and torn after becoming tangled up in the wheels of an upturned shopping trolley. Her once smart black skirt is now just a rag wrapped around her right foot. She has also lost one of her shoes which causes her already awkward gait to become even more pronounced and unsteady.

  Amy does not respire, nor does she have any need to eat or drink or seek shelter or protection. Her eyes and ears operate at a massively reduced level. She can see and hear, although she can no longer interpret and understand the information she absorbs. As the rest of her body continues to deteriorate, however, the part of the brain least affected by the infection is continuing to re-establish itself, albeit at a desperately slow rate.

  Less than three hundred metres away from Amy’s present location, the front of another building has collapsed. Initially damaged by a truck which plunged off an elevated section of road when its driver became infected and died, the weakened structure has now given way and caved in on itself, producing huge amounts of dust and substantial vibrations and noise. Amy Steadman, although not understanding what the disturbance is, has instinctively altered direction and is beginning to move towards it.

  It is just before eight o’clock in the morning and the building where Amy died has been in almost total darkness for more than twelve hours. Almost all of the visible light comes from the front of the building, and Amy is now moving towards it. She does not realise that this is an exit, but she is attracted by the brightness and also the fact that the recent noise and vibrations caused by the building collapse emanated from that general direction. Three of the four main doors are blocked, one is wedged open. Still drawn to the brightness outside, instead of turning and moving away when she reaches the glass, Amy now shuffles clumsily from side to side until she finally finds the single open door and practically falls through the gap.

  Amy is ignorant to the sudden change in her surroundings. It is noticeably cooler outside and it has been raining steadily for the last two hours. A strong westerly wind is gusting across the front of the building that she has just emerged from, and the sudden strength of the wind is sufficient to knock the comparatively weak body off course. The cloud of dust which was thrown up by the collapse of the second building is steadily being washed down by the rain, covering everything in a light layer of grey dirt and mud. The noise and vibrations have faded now and there remains no noticeable indication of the previous disturbance. Without any obvious visual or auditory distractions, Amy Steadman’s corpse begins to move randomly again, shuffling slowly forward until it can go no further, then changing direction and moving away again.

  #

  Several hours later, and Amy’s corpse has travelled more than half a mile from the building where she died. The increased light levels outside have enabled her to see more. Previously only able to distinguish obvious movements and the stark contrast between light and dark, she is now able to make out a finer level of detail. There are other bodies nearby. Amy is now able to detect their movements from a distance of around ten metres away.

  As a result of the immense devastation caused by the infection, the ground outside is littered with debris and human remains. The st
reets are uneven and Amy frequently loses her footing and falls, her slow reactions preventing her from taking any corrective action until it is too late. As the day has worn on, however, she has become able to move with slightly more freedom and control.

  The environment through which Amy is now walking is almost completely silent. She has reached a straight section of road which leads out of town and she has now been moving in the same general direction for some time. There are numerous crashed cars and other vehicles nearby. Just ahead, straddling half of the width of the carriageway, is a family-sized estate car containing three corpses. In the back is a dead child, in the driver’s seat its dead mother. The third corpse – that of an overweight male passenger in his late thirties – moves continually but is held in its seat by a safety belt. In the box-shaped boot of the car, trapped behind a protective wire-mesh grille, is a dog. It has no means of escape and is becoming increasingly angry and scared. For some time the starving animal has been quiet but the movement from the male body in the front passenger seat of the car and the close proximity of another random corpse outside has excited it again. It has begun to bark and howl and, in the empty silence, its cries can be heard from a considerable distance away.

  #

  Twenty minutes, and already three more bodies have reached the car. They crowd around it, attracted by the dog’s noise, leaning against the windows and occasionally banging their fists against the glass. Their appearance and noise causes the dog to become even more agitated. Amy Steadman is now aware of the disturbance and is moving towards it. She reaches the car and joins the group of cadavers.