World War Moo: An Apocalypse Cow Novel by Michael Logan

Author:Michael Logan [Logan, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781466867697
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2015-06-09T04:00:00+00:00

18

It took Lesley and Jack just half an hour to reach the outskirts of Aberdeen. Emboldened by the success of their disguise, they followed the main road, although they encountered no other people to further test the worth of the layer of dung. Lesley was perspiring from the effort of keeping up with Jack and the shit had begun to dry out and crack, save for the areas on her face, armpits, and small of her back, where sweat kept leaking out. They stopped at a roundabout beside a Royal Mail depot and looked down the dual carriageway leading into town. Crumpled cars ringed the side of the road, piled up like kids’ toys.

“What d’you think?” Lesley said. “Should we risk going in?”

“I’m not sure. With the smell, they might mistake us for livestock. I understand they’re partial to a bit of bestiality in this part of the world.”

“If you make any sheep shagger jokes, you’ll definitely be killed.”

“We need to take the chance. It’s our best chance of finding some kind of link with the outside world.”

“It’s also our best chance of being torn up into fleshy confetti.”

“We’re as good as dead anyway if we do nothing. Let’s give it a go. If anybody seems even a tiny bit aggressive, we get the hell out of there.”

Lesley trusted neither her legs nor the squeaky old bike to shake off any pursuit but followed when Jack headed down the road. They passed an old church in which the gravestones were half hidden by long grass, squat metal-roofed industrial units, and rows of silent houses, many of them with front doors ajar and windows broken. Lesley felt that eyes were watching them from within those homes where washing hung on the line or smoke trickled out of chimneys. Nobody came out to challenge them.

They passed several public phones, which neither of them had any money or credit cards to operate—although they did stop to pick one up and found no dial tone, which did not bode well. Still, there were plenty of shopping malls and Internet cafés in the town center. With luck one of them would be operating. She knew from Twitter and Facebook that some people in Britain were still getting online somehow. Not that they would go into the shops when people were there. They’d agreed they would keep moving and stay in the middle of the road, out of nostril range, until they identified a likely target. They would return in the dead of night to break in. With luck they would be able to pinch some food and cigarettes as well. Specifically, she was thinking about the Trinity Center. If memory served her correctly the streets around there were wide enough to give them breathing space, and it would let them figure out if it was open or not. She was hopeful it would be. People said cockroaches were most likely to survive an apocalypse. She’d always put her money on consumerism.

She took them over the road bridge.

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