4. Interesting First Impressions
Interesting First Impressions
Olivia
“Are you going to be spending all day laughing under there?” The man I assume is Andy stands next to Bean, double-barrelled shotgun lying against his shoulder as he stares down at me with a dubious expression on his weathered face.
The guy is exactly what I expect a goat farmer in the middle of the British Countryside to be like.
He’s on the older side, probably late-forties to early fifties, with short brown hair that’s greying on the temples and tanned skin.
Built like a brick shit house, he has strong shoulders and thick arms from a life of hard farm work.
Hell, he even has the thick West Country accent of a stereotypical farmer.
It takes a few moments before I’m able to stop my laughter enough to answer.
“I don’t plan to,” I say, although it comes out in a sob because I’m an emotional mess.
Glancing down at the zombie still slumped on top of me, I’m relieved to see that it has blonde hair and not Tobias’s chestnut.
I’m not sure how I would have coped if it’d been him. “Can you get it off me?”
Andy presses his lips together and nods before bending down to grab the corpse by the arm.
He wrenches it off me with one hand, causing more blood and gore to smear across me and the grass as he drags it into the ditch by the hedge.
The sight of dark red and black liquid soaking into my clothes is enough to have me gagging and then I’m up on my hands and knees, retching into the grass.
My body trembles as I finish losing my breakfast and sit back on my haunches.
“Here.”
I glance up to see him offering me a piece of white fabric. “Thanks,” I say as I take it and wipe my mouth and try to ignore the thick, wet goop clinging to my body. If I don’t, I’m going to either throw up again or the panic that’s lingering in my chest is going to overwhelm me.
“Did it bite you?” the farmer asks gruffly, his hand still firmly on his shotgun.
I shake my head. “No. I, er… stopped it before it could.” Just the idea of that thing getting its teeth into me is enough to have my stomach clenching and more metallic-tasting saliva flooding my mouth.
“I take it you rarely leave wherever you live, huh?” There’s dry amusement in his voice that makes me scowl.
I’m barely hanging on by a thread and this guy thinks it’s hilarious. “What?” I mock gasp. “It’s not normal for people to giggle while trapped beneath the reanimated corpse they just murdered?”
The farmer snorts. “No, and most people understand arrows are supposed to be used with a bow and not at close range.”
“Well shit, I’ll remember that the next time I get thrown from my horse and ambushed by a zombie,” I snap, before wincing. You’re really making friends there, aren’t you, Ollie?
Thankfully, he isn’t put off by my aggressive sarcasm. “I’m Andy, and you must be the elusive Olivia.”
I grimace. “Ollie. I’m only Olivia when I’m in trouble.”
He grins and offers me a hand. “Come on. I’ll put the kettle on while you can get cleaned up.”
A shower and a cup of tea sounds fucking fantastic right now.
I wrinkle my nose at the state of my clothes before accepting his hand.
He helps me to my feet, then bends to pick up my bow and hands it over along with Bean’s reins.
I take them and follow him toward the pink cottage, being careful to dodge the puddles of blood.
Bean and Harlow follow me quietly while Ketchup seems content just to perch on the saddle.
“You can stick your horse in the small paddock next to the house. There’s already some hay and water in there for her.” He points toward a small enclosed field to the right of the cottage.
I lead Bean to the paddock, strip off her saddle and place it on the fence. Ketchup squawks and flaps her wings in indignation at being disturbed. I roll my eyes and ignore her as I slip the bridle from Bean’s head.
Thankfully, the pony was unharmed by her spook and the zombie. She seems pretty over the whole thing because she immediately finds the hay and starts munching. I turn toward the cottage to see Andy standing by the door, studying me with a frown on his lips and his brow furrowed.
“I think some of my daughter’s clothes should fit so you can wear those while you wait for your clothes to get washed,” he says with a nod before turning and disappearing into the cottage.
On some level, I know it’s a bad idea to just blindly follow a strange man into a house, especially in the apocalypse. If this were a horror film, he’d have a creepy basement and a freezer full of dead people.
I snort at the thought. I doubt he has the freezer; it’d be a waste of electricity. But my instincts tell me he won’t hurt me. He could easily have shot me when I was trapped beneath that zombie and from what Tobias has told me about him, he seems like a decent guy.
Oh, please don’t let him be a serial killer. I did not just kill my first zombie just to get murdered by a guy who sounds like he was an extra in Hot Fuzz.
Swallowing down the hysterical laughter bubbling in my throat, Harlow and I follow him inside.
Andy’s cottage inside is a similar layout to mine, with the front door flowing into a large, country-style kitchen.
Thanks to the black AGA oven that’s identical to mine, warmth envelops me and chases away the chill I didn’t realise I had.
Andy fills the kettle with water from the sink, and I can’t help but stare at the water running from the tap.
The farmer glances over at me as he turns it off and smirks. “Your place isn’t the only property that gets fed from the spring,” he says, inclining his head toward the window. The mountain where said spring originates from stands tall and proud in the distance. “I even have hot running water.”
Well shit. I guess he has a similar setup to what I have at my cottage. I didn’t know what to expect from Andy’s place, but it certainly isn’t this. Maybe I should have because farmers are nothing but inventive.
Andy places the kettle on top of the oven and turns to face me. “Let me show you to the bathroom and my daughter’s room so you can grab some clothing.” He moves past me and through the narrow doorway at the other end of the kitchen.
I glance down at Harlow. “Stay,” I tell her before I follow Andy deeper into the house and up a steep staircase to the second floor.
A narrow corridor stretches out with three doors, two on one wall and one on the other. At the end of the corridor is a window with a small reading nook beneath it and an open book sitting on top of the cushions.
Andy stops next to the first door on the left and stares at the book, his eyes tightening and his lips pressing together with grief. Then he blinks and his expression smooths out.
“This door leads to the bathroom and the door next door leads to Rachel’s room. Hopefully, you can find some clothes that fit.” He clears his throat. “Your tea should be ready by the time you finish showering, and then we need to talk. Call me if you need anything.”
I want to ask him about his daughter and what happened to her, but now isn’t the time. So I nod and move to the side so he can move past me as he makes his way back down the stairs.
The first thing I do is check out Rachel’s room.
It’s pretty much what I expected; feminine and clean.
The walls are painted a light lavender colour that matches the bed sheets on the double bed pressed against the far side.
Opposite the bed is a wooden wardrobe that looks a few decades old, judging from the marked, aged wood.
That’s where I go first, and it feels weird to go through someone’s wardrobe when they’re not present. But I need clean clothes, so I grab a pair of black leggings and an oversized grey hoodie.
Clothes in hand, I head to the bathroom next.
It’s a decent size and clean, with a bath and shower combo.
I avert my eyes as I move past the mirror above the sink to place the clean clothes on the closed toilet seat.
I don’t want to see the blood and gore on me because I’m pretty sure I’m going to lose my last shred of sanity if I do.
Shower on, I undress and jump under the warm spray.
Since I don’t want to waste Andy’s hot water, I hastily scrub myself to the point my skin is pink and raw and then shut the water off, even though I don’t quite feel clean enough.
Although, after today, I don’t think I’ll ever feel fully clean again.
Memories of the thick, wet gore soaking through my jeans and shirt after my foot sank into the flesh of the zombie flashes in my mind. I shudder and swallow a gag.
Holy shit, I killed someone. They may have been a zombie, but they were still a person at some point. And now they’re dead dead. Because of me.
Don’t think about it, I tell myself, but it’s too late.
The panic rises, constricting my chest to the point I can’t breathe.
I gasp for breath as I slide down the cold tiled wall of the shower.
My body trembles and tears slide down my cheeks.
My thoughts spiral as the moans and groans of the zombie meld with the screech of metal against metal and the high-pitched screams of my parents.
I’m no longer in Andy’s bathroom, but in my own personal hell.
I don’t know how long it is before I’m roused by the sound of furious knocking and someone gruffly calling my name.
There’s also whining and the sound of nails scratching against wood.
I jerk my head up to find I’m curled into a ball at the bottom of the bathtub, my body shivering both from the cold and the remnants of my panic attack.
My eyes are gritty and my throat is raw, like I’ve been screaming.
“Ollie! Olivia!” Andy shouts through the bathroom door. There’s another whine and bark that tells me Andy isn’t the only one outside the bathroom door; Harlow’s there, too.
“If you don’t answer in the next thirty seconds, I’m coming in!” He bangs on the door again.
Ah, fuck. Poor guy probably thinks I’m certifiable, if he didn’t already. “I’m fine,” I croak back, then wince at how sore my throat is. Stupid fucking panic attacks. Why can’t I be normal?
Andy sighs. “Bloody hell. Are you okay in there?”
“Yeah. Sorry if I worried you.” I unfold myself from the foetal position, and suck in a sharp breath when my back twinges painfully from being in the awkward position for too long. At least I had my attack after I got clean.
“Right, well, I have your tea waiting downstairs, along with some biscuits. You’ll need the sugar. Come down when you’re ready.” I hear his footsteps as he moves away and the creak of the staircase. Another whine and scratch on the bathroom door tells me Harlow didn’t follow him.
With a sigh, I get to my feet, using the tiled wall to keep my trembling body steady as I step out of the bathtub.
I grab a towel and quickly dry myself off before putting on my borrowed leggings and hoodie.
Once dressed, I dry my hair as much as I can with the towel before plaiting it.
Feeling a little more human, I grab my soiled clothes, my quiver and my bow before exiting out of the bathroom.
Harlow jumps up at me, her front paws digging into my stomach as she cries at me.
“I know, girl. I’m sorry,” I say, trying to reassure her with my words because I don’t have a free hand to pet her.
It seems to placate her because she jumps off me and clings to my side as we make our way down the stairs and back to the kitchen.
As promised, a steaming cup of tea and a plate of what looks like homemade Hob Nob biscuits sit on a plate next to it. My mouth waters at the sight. It’s been so long since I’ve had any sweet baked goods. Andy’s already sitting at the table, biscuit in one hand and mug of tea in the other.
He looks up as I enter. “Good to see you’re still in one piece,” he says before taking a sip of tea. “Just stick your dirty clothes in the washing machine and they’ll be done in about two hours.”
My eyes widen. “You have enough power for a washing machine?” Fuck, I can’t remember the last time I had the luxury of a machine washing my clothes.
Andy nods and grins. “It dries clothes, too.”
“How?”
“I went a bit overboard with the solar panels and the wind turbines at the start of this whole shebang and my batteries only store so much, so I have to use the electricity somehow,” he says with a shrug.
“Just stick your clothes in there.” He points toward the white washing machine on the other side of the kitchen.
Oh fuck. Maybe he does have a working freezer. I eye him as I move toward the washing machine. “You’re not a serial killer that’s gonna stuff me into your freezer, are you?” I blurt and then cringe. What the fuck, Ollie?
He barks out a laugh and shakes his head. “Fuck no. That’s a waste of freezer space,” he says, his eyes dancing with mirth. At least he’s not offended by my weird, off-the-wall remarks. Honestly, the guy is growing on me, especially since he’s giving me Hob Nobs.
I load my dirty clothes into the washing machine and close the door. As I move over to the table to grab the biscuits and tea, Andy switches on the machine, pours in some soap, and starts the cycle.
My eyes roll and I stifle a moan as I bite into the first biscuit after dunking it into my tea. Holy fuck, they’re even better than I remember, I think as I devour the biscuit in two bites.
Andy regards me from across the table with amusement. “Glad to see you’re enjoying them,” he says with a chuckle as he finishes his own biscuit before turning serious. “Right, let’s get down to business.”
Oh, that doesn’t sound good.
“I’m going to assume that you came all this way to find your brother, correct?”
I nod. “He said he was coming to trade with you after searching a nearby town, but he never came back. Lauren—his wife—and I are worried something happened to him.”
Andy presses his lips into a grim line. “Well, unfortunately, you and Lauren were right to worry.”
Oh God. His words are like a punch to the gut. Suddenly I’m not hungry and the remaining sweetness of the biscuit turns to ash in my mouth. I swallow around the lump in my throat. “What happened?”
Please don’t let him be dead. Please.
Andy scrubs his face with his hand and sighs heavily. When he meets my eyes, I can see the grief and pain shining in the murky blue depths. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Ollie, but your brother is gone. He’s been taken.”