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With that he turned and walked towards a door in the corner of the room. Beyond the door was a narrow, twisting staircase which he began to climb. Emma instinctively followed but Michael stopped her.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.

‘Let me go first.’

Philip was already at the top of the stairs waiting breathlessly. As Michael approached he lifted a single finger to his chapped lips.

‘Be quiet please,’ he whispered. ‘Mum’s found all of this a little hard to deal with and I don’t want to frighten her. She’s very old and she’s not been well these last few months.’

Michael nodded and managed a half-smile despite the fact that the air at the top of the stairs was rancid and he could clearly hear the ominous humming of germ-carrying flies close nearby.

Philip pushed the door open slightly and stuck his head into his mother’s room. He stopped and turned back to face the other two.

‘Give me a minute with her, will you?’ he asked.

He disappeared into the room and pushed the door shut behind him but Michael followed immediately. Philip didn’t notice.

‘Mum,’ he said softly as he crouched down at the side of the bed. ‘Mum, there are some people here who can help us. We’re going to go back with them for a few days until things settle down again.’

Michael stood a short distance behind Philip. Emma cautiously entered the room and walked over to stand next to him. He leant down and grabbed hold of her arm. With tension and fear obvious in his voice he hissed at her to quickly go back downstairs.

‘Why?’ she quietly asked. She took a single step forward to get a better view of Philip’s mother and then covered her mouth with horror and disgust. Mrs Evans’ skin was discoloured and decayed, her hair lank and greasy. Flies buzzed around her decomposing flesh and were feeding on her constantly writhing body. Michael walked up to the bed and pulled back the soiled sheets which covered the old lady. Ignoring Philip’s protestations he stared down at her emaciated body. She was tied to the bed with strong ropes which were stretched tight across her stained night-dress. She’d been dead since the first morning.

‘I had to tie her down,’ Philip stammered anxiously. ‘She wouldn’t stay in bed. When the doctor saw her last he said she had to stay in bed until she was better…’

‘Philip,’ he sighed, ‘your mum’s dead.’

‘Don’t be stupid,’ the little man scoffed, laughing with disbelief. ‘How can she be dead? She’s not well, that’s all. Bloody hell, how can she be dead you daft bugger?’

‘This has happened to millions of people, Philip,’ Emma said, fighting to keep control of her nerves and her stomach. ‘I know it sounds crazy, but most of the people who…’

‘Dead people can’t move,’ he shouted, resting his hand on his mother’s shoulder. ‘How can she be dead if she’s moving? Answer me that?’

‘Living people don’t rot,’ Michael replied. ‘Now your choice is simple, either come with us now and leave her here, or you both stay.’

‘I can’t go without Mum,’ he wailed. ‘I can’t leave her here on her own, can I?’

Michael took hold of Emma’s arm and gently pushed her back towards the stairs.

‘Wait for me by the front door,’ he said quickly. ‘I’ll be down in a couple of seconds.’

He turned back to try and reason with Philip.

‘Come on, just accept it will you?’ he began. ‘Your mother is dead. She might still be moving, but she’s as good as dead. She’s the same as those other people you’ve seen outside.’

Emma listened anxiously as she crept back down the stairs. She waited on the bottom step for Michael.

‘What are you going to do if you stay here?’ he continued. ‘You probably haven’t got much food or drink and your health is suffering. We’re your best chance, Philip. Get your stuff together and come with us.’

‘Not without Mum. I can’t leave without her.’

Michael shook his head dejectedly.

‘No,’ he said simply.

Without any warning something inside Philip snapped. In a fraction of a second the meek little man became an uncontrolled animal. His fears and frustrations bottled up since the nightmare had begun, he suddenly exploded with fury and savage emotion, lunging at Michael and sending him flying across the bedroom. Surprised by the force and the violence of the unexpected attack, Michael lost his balance and tripped backwards through the doorway. With Philip desperately holding onto him, the two men tumbled down the stairs and came to rest in a heap at Emma’s feet.

‘Get back to the car!’ Michael yelled as he struggled to hold the other man down. ‘Get the fucking engine started!’

Despite having the speed and intentions of a man possessed, Philip was weak and slight of stature and it didn’t take much effort on Michael’s part to overpower him. He wrenched him around and grasped his scrawny neck in a dangerously tight headlock. He dragged Philip towards the front door of the cottage, ignoring his pitiful, wheezing cries.

There were three bodies in the road between the car and the van. Emma ran past them and climbed into the car and started the engine. The corpses – joined by more from the shadows nearby – began to crowd around her. She struggled to see between them and waited anxiously for Michael to appear.

More bodies were reacting to the sounds of the struggle inside the building and were heading towards the cottage. Emma accelerated, hoping that the sound of the car’s engine would distract them and give Michael and Philip a chance to get out. A couple of stumbling figures turned around awkwardly and staggered towards the car. An equal number continued to move closer to the house.

Michael looked up and saw that there were corpses in the doorway. Philip, sensing that he had been distracted momentarily, managed to squirm free. He took a few steps away from Michael and wiped tears from his eyes, oblivious to the danger of the approaching cadavers.

‘Why can’t I bring her with me?’ he pleaded, still refusing to accept the bitter truth.

Michael grabbed hold of his arm to pull him out of the house but he recoiled and managed to twist himself free again. A body reached out and grabbed hold of Philip’s shoulders. Another caught hold of one of his legs. Terrified, he began to kick and scream.

‘Get them off me!’ he yelled. ‘Please, get them off!’

Michael tore the creatures away from him and pushed them back out into the street. He looked up and saw that there were about twenty figures around Emma’s car and he could see her panicked face staring back at him through the glass. He knew that he had to make a choice and he had to make it immediately. Keep trying to persuade Philip to leave without his mother or just leave without either of them. He glanced back at the pathetic shell of a man who stood in the middle of his living room, whimpering and snivelling.

The decision was made.

Michael ran out through the doorway, pushing bodies to the side, and pausing only to pull the door shut behind him hoping to give Philip something of a chance. He fought his way through the ragged crowd and climbed into the Landrover and started the engine. From where he sat all that he could see was a mass of grotesque, decaying faces staring back at him. He gave a couple of short blasts on the horn and, when Emma did the same in reply, he pushed down on the accelerator and moved away. The decomposing bodies offered hardly any resistance.

He watched in the mirror until he was sure that Emma was following and then put his foot down.

42

Seven miles to Penn Farm.

The maze of twisting country lanes which surrounded the farm and connected it to the numerous villages and small towns nearby was confusing and disorientating. Michael found it hard to keep concentrating because he was preoccupied with other thoughts. Had he done the right thing in leaving Philip behind or should he have made more of an effort to drag him away from his home? He knew that the poor confused soul wouldn’t have abandoned his dead mother without a lot more persuasion, and he also knew that they hadn’t had the luxury of having time to argue. When it came to it the decision had been a pretty clear cut choice between Emma and Philip. He couldn’t stand the thought of risking Emma’s safety for even a second, but at the same time he felt wracked with guilt when he remembered the pathetic, frightened little man he’d left quivering alone in the stagnant surroundings of his dead mother’s house.