The Cost of Living by David Moody Page A

tried to prepare myself for this moment, but I’m not ready...
    I
shove the head of the axe between her breasts, pushing her away, because even
though I know what she is now and how dangerous this is, I don’t know if I can
do it.
    She
trips, legs folding in on themselves, and now she’s on her backside in the
middle of the road. But before I can react, she’s at me again, lunging forward,
and whether she has control of her movements or not, I know she’s not going to
stop until she’s infected me. The woman lets out a sound that’s like a sad sob,
a low, sorrowful moan, and I don’t know if it’s the disease making the noise or
her? Does she remember? Is she still alive in there, a prisoner of the
infection?
    I
push her away with the end of the axe again, and in the few seconds of space, I
make myself think what would happen if I was infected. I know I’d end up back
at the house: either I’d walk home or they’d come out looking. Whatever, the
end result would be the same. I picture Gabby and the kids like this woman, and
my nervous fear evaporates. I keep telling myself, I have to do this.
    This
time when she comes at me, I’m ready.
    I
swing the axe around in a wide arc, the weight of the weapon increasing the
force, and I gag with disgust when it sinks into the small of her back, clacking
against her spinal cord. The dead-weight when she falls almost pulls me over
with her, and it’s all I can do to keep my balance and stay upright as I wrench
the head of the axe out. And still she keeps coming, arms outstretched, fingers
digging in the dirt to try and pull herself along as I move further away.
    I
lift the axe again and bring it down on the back of her head. It wedges into
her skull, splitting the bone like an egg, and this time I lose control. I whip
the facemask off and vomit everywhere, so much gunk flooding out of my body
that, for a few seconds at least, I’m confident nothing’ll get in.
    Once
I’ve got the mask back on and the sweats have passed, I check the rest of the
houses, but I figure if no one’s come out to see what’s going on after I’ve
just hacked a woman down in the middle of the street, then there’s no one else
left here, alive or infected.
    I
fetch some lighter fuel from home and set fire to the body. She’s still moving
as she burns.
    I
leave everything – my clothes, the axe, the goggles and facemask –
in the back garden to be decontaminated later with bleach, and I go inside.
     

10
    STUART
    SUNDAY 14 JUNE – 10:03am
     
    I’ve left it as
long as I can before going outside again, but it’s time. I’ve waited until I’m
sure my activities last week have gone unnoticed. I get Nathan out of bed and
tell him to get dressed. I knew he’d be like this: he’s been moaning non-stop
about wanting to go out but, now he’s about to leave the house, all the macho
bullshit has been dropped. He’s as scared as I am.
    ‘I’m
not happy about this,’ Gabby says as Nathan gets himself ready. ‘He’s just a
kid, Stuart.’
    ‘I’m
well aware of that. This needs two of us though.’
    ‘So
I’ll come out with you.’
    ‘Don’t
be ridiculous. We’ve been through this already. We can’t take the risk. What if
something happens while we’re out there? How would the kids survive on their
own?’
    ‘You’re
not making me feel any better.’
    ‘I’m
not trying to. Look, we’re not going to take any chances. We’ll roll a couple
of cars down the hill to block the road, then use stuff from the building site
to stop them getting through. An hour’s work, tops.’
    I
can tell she’s not convinced, but when Nathan appears at the top of the stairs
she stops arguing. He needs this. I could probably do it on my own, but I want
him there as back up. It’ll help him get rid of some of that pent up anger and
frustration. Christ, I remember what I was like at his age – all those
hormones and attitude playing havoc with my head. And my life was easy compared
to