Disintegration

Bloke’s a bloody idiot.”
    “Sounds like he was nearly a dead idiot.”
    “Maybe. He always makes things sound worse than they are. Anyway, serves him right.”
    Caron closed her eyes and leaned against the glass. What had her life become? What had she done to deserve this? Trapped in this horrific place, surrounded by these horrific people. She looked up again and focused once more on the gray slate roof of her house in the distance. She squinted, hoping to block out the thousands of cadavers and make them disappear.
    Wilmington Avenue was five minutes away by car, but number thirty-two and the world she’d left behind felt a million miles away.

 
     
    3
     
    On a fifth-floor balcony, illuminated only by a three-quarter moon hanging high in the empty sky above them, three men stood together, drank beer, and watched the dead.
    “Is that a corpse?” Stokes asked, pointing down into the shadows below. Hollis peered into the darkness, momentarily concerned. The figure was moving with coordination and control and he relaxed.
    “Nah,” he yawned, “it’s Harte.”
    Hollis watched as the tall man walked over to the left side of the building and looked through the motley collection of buckets, bathtubs, wheelbarrows and paddling pools the group had left out front to gather rainwater. He half-filled a jug from a large plastic plant-pot then wandered back inside. For a moment everything was still and quiet again.
    “So what exactly happened with Webb today?” Stokes asked, disturbing the silence.
    “He’s a liability,” Hollis said quietly, leaning over the metal veranda.
    “He’s a fucking idiot,” Jas said, standing just behind him. Stokes shuffled forward, maneuvering his sizable bulk around the limited space of the balcony so he could reach another beer. He snapped back the ring-pull and held the can out in front of him as the gassy froth bubbled up and dribbled over the edge. He shook his hand dry, took a long swig, then bustled back to his original position next to Hollis.
    “He’s just a kid, that’s all,” he said, stifling a belch. “He’s all right.”
    “He’s got to learn to keep himself under control and not get distracted.” Jas sighed. “We’ve all got to get smarter when we’re out there.” He stamped on an empty can, flattening it with a satisfying crunch, then picked it up and pushed his way to the front of the veranda between Stokes and Hollis. He flicked his wrist and hurled the can out into the darkness like a Frisbee, the moonlight allowing him to track its curved path downward. It clattered against a half-demolished wall near to the remains of the second block of flats a little farther down the hill. The sharp and unexpected sound caused a noticeable ripple of inquisitive movement within the ranks of the dead nearby. He could see a sudden momentary swell of interest among the tightly packed corpses on the other side of the wall of rubble and wrecked cars they’d erected to keep the hordes at bay.
    “We’ve just got to be sensible,” Hollis said. “Just keep doing what we’re doing until they’ve rotted down to nothing. We’re not prisoners here. We’ll keep going out and getting what we need, when we need it. We’re in charge here. Those things will only ever be able to get to us if we let them.”
    “Maybe we should leave Webb here next time,” Jas suggested. “He’s going to get someone killed.”
    “He’s just a loose cannon,” said Stokes. “Don’t write him off. He just needs to learn how to keep himself under control, that’s all.”
    “I’ve seen dead bodies in the streets with more control than him,” Jas grumbled as he stomped on another empty can.
    “Don’t joke about it,” Hollis said, leaning over to one side as the second crushed can flew past his ear. “Did you see that one today?”
    “Which one?”
    “The one with the branch.”
    “What are you talking about?” Stokes asked, confused.
    “It was just after we’d filled the first van,” Hollis explained. “One of the dead came marching out through the middle of the crowd dragging half a bloody tree behind it.”
    “Must have got itself caught up,” Jas suggested, sounding only half-interested.
    “That’s what I thought,” he continued, “but I was watching it and…”
    “And what?”
    Hollis paused, not entirely sure what he was trying to say. “And I swear it was trying to pick it up and use it.”
    “Use it for what?”
    “A weapon, I guess. Maybe it was