Life After Death (Book #1)

Chapter Nine

Joey burst anxiously through the bedroom door, knife in hand, but relaxed slightly when he saw only his sweat-drenched friend in bed.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" Joey asked worriedly.

Max hunched over, breathing deeply and clutching his chest to feel the rapid beating of his heart.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks," Max replied, out of breath and distracted by the disturbing images of his brother.

"I know I wanted you to make yourself at home, but you didn't have to wet the bed," Joey smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

"It's sweat, okay!" Max snapped. "Sorry," he apologised immediately, "bad dream."

"You gonna tell me who John is?" Joey asked gently, perching himself on the end of Max's bed.

"Depends, are you're going to tell me who the other bedroom belongs to?" Max replied instantly.

"Touché," Joey laughed. "Maybe a conversation for another time," he added.

"Yeah, I think that's best. I need to take a shower. Desperately," Max admitted, easing his aching body out of bed.

"Okay mate, I'll meet you downstairs for breakfast, then it's time to go hunting," Joey retorted, grinning from ear to ear.

"Hunting?" Max scoffed.

"Well, more like scavenging I suppose; but hunting sounds way cooler," Joey sniggered.

Max smiled and nodded before heading to the bathroom. Both men were clearly hiding deep secrets about their past, but neither were too keen to pry any further. Getting the truth from Joey meant also sharing his own story, something that Max wasn't ready to do.

After a much-needed wash, Max joined Joey in the kitchen, met by the mouth-watering smell of bacon and sausage. His stomach rumbled, crying out for a decent meal. He had ignored his appetite for the past week; he'd had other things to worry about.

"Wow," Max exclaimed simply.

"Yeah I froze a load of fresh meat when all this s**t went down, figured I'd need enough food for a while," Joey explained.

"You really love this whole survivalist thing, don't you?" Max chuckled, met by a smirk from Joey.

"Grubs up," Joey yelled, piling a mountain of bacon, sausage and baked beans onto Max's plate. "A good hearty meal for a growing lad," Joey joked, grabbing Max's cheek as you would to a small child.

Max laughed; Joey was certainly a character and it was refreshing to be able to laugh at life again. In truth, even before the apocalypse, Max hadn't really laughed in months; being locked away in that dungeon of an apartment had really sucked the life out of him. Spending time with Joey and joking around reminded him of growing up with John, a memory he intended to hang on to.

"Helloooo? Anybody in there?" Joey called sarcastically, waving his hand in front of Max's eyes.

"Sorry, mate, I was miles away," Max laughed quietly, finally tucking into his gigantic breakfast.

"Eat up Maxie boy, you're gonna need your strength today," Joey suggested.

Max was only too happy to oblige, scoffing down the entire plateful before sitting back in his chair and letting out a sigh of relief.

"I definitely needed that," he said.

"Well don't fall asleep on me there, grandma, get your knickers on and get ready to go; we got hunting to do," Joey cried, running off down into his basement full of tricks.

Max could only chuckle to himself as he marched himself upstairs to fetch his equipment. "Crazy fucker," he grinned. He emptied his backpack of food and clothes, storing it in the various drawers around his new room. If they were in fact scavenging, he figured he'd need some spare space to store whatever they found. He packed only his bat and a couple of knives before slinging the bag over his shoulder and picking up his rifle.

He eventually found Joey kitting up in the basement, packing throwing knives and attaching his machete to his thick brown belt, where other various blunt instruments and knives remained stationed.

"You got enough there?" Max joked.

"Never know what might go down, my friend," Joey replied with an excited smile. The guy really loved all this, Max thought.

Joey's eyes flicked towards Max's rifle as he hopped to his feet and walked towards it, hands outstretched.

"I've been meaning to ask about this little baby. Is it a hunting rifle or...?" Joey asked probingly.

"I wish. It's just an air rifle, probably won't do much good, to be honest, sorry to disappoint," Max explained.

"I don't know man, with the rotting flesh and all, it might do more damage than you think. Worth taking with us anyway," Joey recommended. "Anyway, off we go," Joey said enthusiastically, springing back up the stairs towards the front door.

After locking the metal barricade door behind them, and then shutting the original wooden front door, Max and Joey stepped out into the morning light.

"I think it's best to stay on foot this morning, let you get to know the area," Joey said.

"Okay, sounds good. Lead on," Max agreed, not knowing what to really expect.

Max followed close to Joey for about half an hour, remaining vigilant and keeping his eyes peeled the entire time. He knew first-hand how quickly things could go wrong for you out on the streets. Joey wanted to explore further than he usually did, seeing as he had scavenged most of the houses near his; plus, it felt safer to have someone else watching your back. They arrived at a small cul-de-sac, with five expensive-looking houses, two on either side of the road and one at the far end.

"I've been meaning to search these places for a while, but they're so big I think it's a two-man job," Joey clarified.

"Sounds good to me," Max said, honestly just needing a break from running.

Joey led the way around the back of the first house after the two decided it would be both easier and quieter to find a way in through the back door. The last thing they wanted to do was attract any kind of attention. After breaking the lock on the back door and checking no one was still living here, and most importantly no one was dead either, they began to search for any useful items.

Whilst the owners of the house were clearly wealthy and had many items which may tempt a burglar, nothing stood out as being useful in the world they currently lived in. They stocked up on tinned food from the kitchen, and moved on to the next house. This disappointing pattern continued, as they searched through the next three houses one by one, collecting nothing more than food scraps along the way.

Joey had explained on the run over that more often than not, food was all that he found. Unlike places like America, Britain simply didn't have an abundance of weapons and firearms in circulation, items which would prove to be lifesaving nowadays. Max could read the frustration painted across Joey's face. Their trip had lacked the excitement and thrill that he seemed to thrive off of. The two men decided half-heartedly to search the final house at the end of the cul-de-sac before heading home and trying again in the morning. Max wasn't too disheartened; if anything these scavenging trips were invaluable just as an excuse to get out the house and fill the days. There wasn't much in modern entertainment or an abundance of human company anymore.

"You search downstairs, I'll go up," Joey said with a yawn for the fifth time today.

Max nodded and began his routine search of the base of the house. He began in the kitchen, figuring that it would be the only useful place to search anyway. He added a few more tins to his bag which was now nearly full, before making his way around the other rooms. Just like the four houses previously, this one offered up little in the way of weapons.

Max found a few bandages and medicine in one of the bathrooms, and was zipping them into a side pocket of his bag when he heard a shout from Joey.

"Max! Come quickly!" Joey yelled down the stairs urgently.

Max snapped into action withdrawing his bat with his right hand and wielding a savage-looking knife in his left. He left his bag on the ground and leapt up the stairs to his friend's aid.

"Joey?" Max shouted, hearing only silence when he ran out onto the first-floor landing.

"In here," Joey said with a sense of excitement.

Max poked his head around a door to his right, seeing Joey with his face pressed against a window looking out the front of the house.

"I think it's time to test that rifle of yours my friend," Joey grinned, taking it from Max's shoulder. "May I?" he asked.

"Be my guest," Max said uneasily.

Max wasn't a fan of drawing unnecessary attention to themselves, but Joey needed a pick me up; plus, Max was kind of intrigued to see how much damage the gun could actually do. Joey opened the window, took the gun from its zipped case, and rested it against the frame, getting a feel for the weight and the scope.

Max now realised why he had been so keen; towards the end of the road, a lone clicker stood almost still. With the undead not moving and the shot not being that far away, Max was genuinely excited to see if the weapon could actually come in handy. Joey took a few deep breaths and squeezed his finger over the trigger, making a few last-minute adjustments to his aim. After a few seconds of preparation, he pulled his finger down tight over the trigger, letting out a sharp popping noise which echoed down the street. The clicker remained still.

"s**t! Gimme a second, gimme a second," whispered Joey, clearly worried that Max may be keen to have a go of his own.

However, Max was happy for the younger man to take the lead on this one; he was clearly enjoying himself.

Joey let off a few more near-misses, as the pops resonated around the small and silent street. It wasn't until the sixth shot that he finally made a direct hit. The clicker shuffled around, turning side on to Joey, which gave him a clear shot to the side of the head. He squeezed the trigger once more, and watched as the pellet carved through the air before embedding itself in the soft, rotting flesh of the clicker's temple.

A hit to such a sensitive part of the head proved to be effective, as the man's head snapped back, a thin spray of blood spurted from the wound, and the clicker thumped to the ground.

"Did you see that? Did you f*****g see that shot!?" Joey screamed in celebration, spinning around with his arms in the air and looking for Max's approval.

Max couldn't help but laugh at him, slapping his hand as he extended it for a high five; but their celebrations were short-lived. Joey's voice had carried across the street, reverberating around for all to hear, and coupled with the repeated popping noises from the rifle, this had attracted some unwanted company.

A group of ten or so clickers appeared from around a corner at the far end of the street. They were trapped in the cul-de-sac with no way out apart from the way they came.

"Ah shite. I'm gonna say my bad on this one, mate," Joey admitted.

"Is there any other way out, Joey?" Max asked clearly, grabbing his friend by the shoulders.

"No, not that I know of anyway. It's okay, there's not that many of them; I fought off more on my own the other night when I saved you, didn't I?" Joey responded with a cocky swagger.

"Good point. We stick close and we don't take any risks, okay?" Max instructed, but Joey was off down the stairs before he'd even finished his sentence.

Max hightailed it down the stairs after him, making sure to snatch up his bag on the way out. Joey was already halfway towards the clickers, who had now noticed the two men and began to shuffle their way over, arms outstretched and teeth chomping together. Their flesh hung more loosely off their bodies than any Max had seen; he didn't know if that meant they were weaker or had been infected longer or what, but he jogged forward to joined his hot-headed companion.

The undead horde was now upon Joey, who had retrieved both his machete and a short, sharp blade from his belt. The first clicker approached him, and in one swift movement, Joey thumped the machete deep into its skull, wedging it in completely before stabbing the throat aggressively with his second blade. The clicker fell to the floor and he heaved his machete out from its battered head.

Three more undead approached him from all angles as Max fought to catch up to assist him. However, Max was immediately held up by a clicker of his own who had split from the main group. He grabbed the handle of his bat and arched a powerful swing, crushing down on the top of the clickers head. As his adversary tumbled onto the tarmac, he pounced upon the body and slid his knife softly into the temple.

As Max looked up, he saw Joey, now encircled by the rest of the clickers, chopping and swinging his machete wildly. In fairness to him, bodies were dropping at his feet by the second, and Max admired the man's quick footwork, constantly shifting onto a new opponent. A quick jab with his machete sliced through the face of a clicker to his left, the blade forcing itself all the way through the entire head, bursting through the far side with a disgusting squelching sound. Yet another body fell, and Joey spun to cover his own back, catching his foot on his most recent fallen victim.

Max's friend tripped and fell to the ground, instantly surrounded by clickers and blocked from Max's view. Without a second's hesitation, Max flew into the action, barging his way into the middle of the group to shield his comrade. He spun on his axis, over and over again, extending his bat-wielding arm to knock back each and every clicker. Buying himself some time and space, he began to take them on, one by one.

He plucked up Joey's machete, which had been dropped in the commotion, and turned to the nearest undead. With an aggressive, forceful strike, he carved through the throat and neck, severing the head from the body before kicking the body away with the base of his shoe. Two more clickers were upon him now, as he pushed one in the chest, sending it stumbling back, before sending the machete deep into the brain of the second. Blood spurted from the decomposed wound, spraying across Max's face.

Wiping the red from his eyes, Max continued to slice his way through the pack of clickers, feeling the faint metallic taste of blood in his mouth that made him feel sick to his stomach. Joey had managed to heave a collapsed body from on top of him and grabbed the last clicker by the scruff of the neck in the process. He thrust his knife into the eye socket to the tune of a nauseating pop. Both men breathed heavily and stood in silence.

"Well thank f**k you were here, Joey! I'm not sure I could have handled that last one!" Max let out with a coy smile.

Both Max and Joey burst out laughing, before collapsing to the floor in exhaustion; surrounded by blood, bodies and death.