Clifton Falls: A Zombie Story [Part 1]

by Taylor, Lee Andrew

  CLIFTON

  FALLS

  (A zombie story – part 1)

  Lee Andrew Taylor

  Copyright © 2012 Lee Andrew Taylor

  Second edition Copyright @ 2021 Lee Andrew Taylor

  ***

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be produced, stored, or transmitted by any means – whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic – without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

  ***

  DEDICATIONS:

  This novel is dedicated to my cousin, Jason Mckay.

  16th July 1973 - 13th October 1984

  A cool cousin.

  Never forgotten.

  ***

  Also, a huge dedication goes out to a good friend of mine who helped launch the original version of this novel. But sadly he passed away in 2015. Thank you, Ian Brown, for being a fan of this story.

  ***

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:

  To all who kept faith in me during the hard-fought years. You know who you are.

  To all my friends and family who allowed me to use them as characters. You’re all stars in the making.

  To Dave Neal for narrating my killer rats novel – The S.T.A.R.S Project –

  https://www.voiceofthefox.com/?fbclid=IwAR0LWHS3cITAVfteEYuPlIYsh1zjG-GnhEYmKCciFGk0f3k95M5egeZ6IeU

  And finally, I would like to thank Dean Cook for designing my cover art. www.sonarfates.com

  Thank you all from the heart. It’s been a roller-coaster ride.

  ***

  Warning, this novel contains strong language & gruesome violence.

  WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF THE TOWN

  YOU LIVED IN WAS OVERTAKEN

  BY FLESH-EATING ZOMBIES?

  ***

  No one could’ve predicted it –

  No one was prepared for it –

  But it happened in Clifton Falls –

  ***

  Three months after what then was described as the worst ordeal to take place in decades -

  1

  Christmas should be a time of joy and shopping for that perfect turkey, but not this Christmas, not in this small town, and not this year.

  Everything was running smoothly at the National Bank for Vincent Smythe, the manager, as he mingled with the customers on another festive eve day. He was a larger-than-life character, always chatty and polite, but at sixty-five was ready for retirement.

  “Only six months to go,” he would tell people.

  But he’d been saying that for the past year. Now, customers just smiled and nodded at him.

  He stood by the main door, peering outside to see two, unknown men wearing long, thick coats, hurriedly walking towards the bank, but his jovial attitude remained firm as he opened the door to let them in. He greeted them with a wave, but quickly lowered his hand after they ignored him to stand in the queue.

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” he asked. “How are you today? Have you come to take money out because you’ve forgotten to buy presents?”

  But the men just smiled at him and looked away.

  Vincent felt nervous as he looked them up and down, noticing their clothing and footwear dirty. But the customers took no notice as they happily waited to be served.

  Vincent assumed someone knew the men so nodded and walked away, but one of them briskly released a metal bar from beneath his coat and violently smacked him across the back of the head. He fell to his knees, cowering as the second stranger rushed to the main door, shouting words, not in English to leave the customers spooked. They backed against a wall as the man holding the metal bar crashed it against the face of a second victim; also yelling out foreign words as Vincent held his head to stem the blood flow. He wanted the cashiers to raise the alarm but they were as freaked out as everyone else, so couldn’t do it; their eyes terrified to see the metal bar point in their direction before crashing down on the unfortunate man again to bust his nose wide open. He shrunk to the floor next to Vincent, screaming in agony.

  The crazy-eyed attacker grabbed Vincent by his hair, nastily hauling him off the floor to spit out more threatening words, but Vincent tried fighting back. He grabbed hold of the weapon and attempted to twist it out of the man’s hand, but the man was too strong; gaining control in seconds to kick Vincent against a wall. He kept kicking until Vincent begged him to stop.

  The second stranger stayed where he was, flicking his attention from the outside to the frightened customers as he sadistically grinned at Vincent’s woeful pleas for mercy. He said something to the other robber whilst pointing at the door leading to the cashiers; nodding after seeing the man lift Vincent again to push him towards it. But the loud thud of Vincent being slammed against it caused the cashiers to weep. They shuddered after the metal bar almost busted a hole through the door; crying louder after the man screamed at them. But neither opened it until Vincent told them to.

  He was thrown to the floor beside them; his head still pouring out blood as the man pulled bin-bags from his coat before dropping them next to a cashier.

  “Do what…he wants,” Vincent murmured, staggering to his feet. “Just do it.”

  The cashier nervously handed bags to other staff members before silently emptying her cash drawer; the others doing the same in fear that they too would taste cold metal.

  The customers huddled in a corner like sheep being rounded up by a sheepdog; neither used to what was happening because the town was normally a ghost town for any serious crime. But a woman in her mid-fifties plucked up the courage to reach for her phone.

  “Don’t do it, Maggie,” a close friend whispered, watching the man by the main door stare outside again. “These guys are dangerous.”

  “I’m not letting them win,” Maggie replied. “Just hide me.”

  The other customers moved in front of her as she rushed fingers over the digits, but they gulped after the man stared at them.

  “Maggie, stop, he’s looking this way,” her friend whispered.

  “Just keep him busy…”

  But the phone rang out loud.

  “…Shit!” Maggie continued, sweating as she turned off the loudspeaker.

  The man stormed in her direction, raging as she remained hidden. He shouted to scare the customers until seeing Maggie raise the phone to her ear; pushing her protectors to one side and grabbing her arm as a faint voice came out of the phone.

  “Help!” Maggie bellowed as the man yanked her away from the others. “The bank is being robbed.”

  But the man snatched the phone and threw it across the room.

  A few of the customers glared at him, feeling brave to close in, but he panicked; pulling a one-foot sword from beneath his coat to petrify them into submission. He shouted out more words but no one was retreating; their glares making him feel agitated as he whipped his vision from them to Maggie.

  He became paranoid, imagining her trying to escape.

  His face suddenly poured with sweat as the sword was plunged into her mouth; the force smashing teeth and the neck bone as it appeared out the other end.

  Maggie fell motionless to the floor as blood formed a puddle around her head; her expression showing shock as the sword remained embedded. The man stared at her, knowing she was dead. He screamed as he pulled the weapon out, wiping the blood from it down his clothing before swinging it towards the customers; scaring them even more than before.

  The other robber raced out of the cashiers' door holding three bags of cash, scowling at his partner as he ran for the main one. He shouted at him to hurry as a
faint voice was heard coming out of the phone - “Are you still there?”, the person said as the men fled the building.

  They ran away from the bank and headed in the direction of the forest, but one of them pushed over a homeless man who got in his way; leaving him sprawled out on the road as the robber followed his partner towards the end of the street. But they panicked as they scouted the area until hearing a car horn beep. They hurried towards it to see Norman sitting in the driver’s seat, waving his fingers back and forth.

  Norman was the brains behind the robbery; a scrawny man with a scar on his left cheek. He’d been hatching a plan with his girlfriend, Cheyanne, for a few months which involved using the foreigners to carry out the bank job. Norman was the local gravedigger and someone who dreamed of a better life, so he let his petite, dark-haired and tan-skinned girlfriend manipulate the men.

  He heard the alarm from the bank echo in the distance so became nervous as the men entered the car; seeing them grin as they sat in the back.

  “You two are nuts!” he yelled, eyeing up the money bags. “But it looks like you did well…Now put your heads down. I don’t want the fuzz seeing you…”

  But the robbers just smiled at him.

  Norman shook his head, pointing to the floor until they understood before turning around to start the engine; pleased to not see their faces in the rear-view mirror. He inspected the area; keeping calm before driving off with a Cheshire-cat grin on his face.

  “…Stay low. The police could be close by.”

  Norman took a detour away from the main road, heading into the forest and down a private dirt track; seeing the farming fields on one side and the forest on the other. He reached an iron gate to see a sign attached, with the words – No Tresspassing – painted in red before turning off the engine to stare towards the trees; smiling after spotting another car. He exited as Cheyanne rushed towards him, kissing him softly before glancing at the two men.

  “Did we get enough?” she excitedly asked.

  “Baby, unless those goons picked up monopoly money, I think we did…”

  Norman picked her up and kissed her again.

  “…Now do what we planned.”

  “You got it,” Cheyanne said; saluting him as she opened a back door. “Wow! Three bags.”

  She grabbed them from the robbers; smiling to leave them excited before hauling the bags over her shoulder.

  “Are you sure you weren’t spotted?” she asked, calmly walking back to Norman.

  “Nah…You know me, babe. I sneak in and I sneak out unnoticed.”

  Norman laughed as Cheyanne winked at him.

  “You can sneak in and out of me later,” she said, kissing him on the cheek.

  Norman blushed as she walked away; opening the boot of her car to throw the bags inside.

  “Oh, yeah,” she said, looking over at the robbers again. “Did you finally come up with a name for them?”

  Norman laughed again. “I sure did…I’ve named them Chip and Dale.”

  “You tell Chip and Dale I said well done.” Cheyanne closed in on the driver’s side door. “That’s if you can speak their language now.”

  The sound of the robbers bouncing around inside the car received their attention, but it wasn’t until one of them did crazy hand gestures indicating someone lunging a knife that Norman and Cheyanne became worried.

  “What’s going on?!” Cheyanne shouted. “What did they do?”

  “I’m not sure,” Norman replied; witnessing one of the robbers reeling around in the backseat after the other brought the imaginary knife down on him. “But that looks quite nasty.”

  Cheyanne’s facial expression suddenly dropped.

  “Norman…What the fuck did they do?!” she screamed.

  “I don’t know.” Norman shrugged his shoulders. “But I’ll find out.”

  He tried talking to the men but they just giggled cruelly; now happy with what happened to the woman inside the bank.

  “I can feel this going wrong,” Cheyanne nervously said, racing over to nudge Norman in the ribs. “If they’ve murdered someone, it will come back on us.”

  “Calm it, yeah,” Norman replied; reaching out to hug her. “They may just be acting.”

  “Then why aren’t they acting out the robbery?” Cheyanne pushed him away. “Why act like they’ve killed someone?... I don’t want to go to prison…”

  She walked hurriedly in a circle as Norman spat on the ground. Both left confused by the actions of the men.

  “…This doesn’t look good, Norman!” Cheyanne cried out; prodding a finger at thin air before rushing back to her car.

  She re-entered; not looking at the others as she turned the key; almost crying before driving off as Norman sighed. He did the same, starting up his car to reverse away from the gate before turning it around; heading for the main road to the sound of more giggles.

  “Just stay low!” he shouted, becoming more annoyed by the second. “If you get me caught…”

  He took a deep breath and calmed down, thinking that maybe the police hadn’t arrived at the bank yet. He’d studied the movements of the local constabulary so knew the alarm from the bank would probably take a while to be taken seriously. For a town with so little crime, an alarm going off would be diagnosed as a prank by some kids at first, but eventually, it would sink in. He also knew that the police would look for two, unknown characters, so, if he could drop them off at the destination then he could get back to Cheyanne without being suspected.

  ***

  It took another thirty minutes before he entered the town again. He’d missed the traumatized customers shedding tears during the removal of Maggie’s body but saw police cars parked outside the bank, so carefully drove past. But one car pulled out of a side street to scare him. Norman watched it closely follow behind him, trying not to panic as his heart skipped a beat. He slowed down to stop in the hope it would drive past, but it came to a standstill just in front of him to leave sweat dripping off his brow. He saw an officer exit and reach for a firearm. It scared him as he was hauled from his car and thrown onto the road; the gun pressing against the side of his temple until feeling the ice-cold metal against his skin.

  “I’m not going to arrest you!” the angry officer screamed. “I’m just going to blow your fuckin’ brains out”

  He laughed.

  Norman closed his eyes, waiting for the bullet to kill him. But nothing happened. He opened them again to see that the officer wasn’t standing over him and wasn’t trying to shoot him. It was just his imagination.

  He saw the officer for real this time, exiting his vehicle to walk towards him, so nervously lowered his window.

  “What’s up, officer?” he said, wiping the sweat from his head.

  The officer closed in; placing elbows onto the open window frame, causing Norman to almost wet himself.

  “Alright, Norman. Did you know your back-light was broken?”

  “No,” Norman replied swiftly as the sweat decreased.

  “Well, you need to get it fixed.” The officer looked thoughtful for a few seconds before adding, “I should be giving you a ticket but I’m busy with a major incident…I don’t need more paperwork to deal with so just take this as a reminder.”

  Norman never asked about the incident. He just wanted out of the situation. “Thanks. I’ll get it done today.”

  The officer removed himself from the car, slowly returning to his own before picking up his radio to speak to someone on the other end; staring at Norman to scare him for real. But he looked away a few seconds later to re-enter his car. Norman watched him drive away, but his hands shook on the wheel to stall him from leaving the scene. He breathed deeply again until calming down before starting up the engine to head back home.

  He met up again with Cheyanne minutes later, but she was still fuming about what the robbers had done.

  “You said they were just going to scare a few people!” she hollered at him.

  “Maybe they didn’t understan
d what I said?” a baffled reply came.

  “Maybe? …Are you stupid? …Of course, they didn’t understand you, you buffoon. Sometimes I don’t understand you.”

  Norman did nothing but think about the scenario on his drive home, knowing he needed to soothe Cheyanne’s anger. He had a plan brewing inside his drug-fuelled brain, so hoped she would get on board when it was mentioned. But telling her about it wasn’t going to be easy to achieve. He hated the way she scowled at him; it made him feel sad. He coughed as he tried to calm her down, but Cheyanne wasn’t having it.

  “Can you just shut the fuck up!” he hollered at her. “Jeez! Cheyanne, you are like the Duracell bunny. You just keep going on and on and on…”

  Cheyanne was stunned.

  She sat down and poured a glass of vodka before rushing it down her throat, seething at the thought of what Norman was about to say next.

  “…I have a great idea,” he said, winking. “You work at the morgue, right, so just check to see if a body was brought in.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then you stash the cash inside the coffin.”

  “And how do you assume I do that?”

  “I don’t know, Cheyanne, I’m the stupid one, remember, but you’ll find a way…I know you will.”

  Cheyanne thought hard for a moment. “Maybe I could do it when I put the makeup on the body? …That’s if there is one.”

  “Just don’t stash the cash inside if it’s going to be cremated.”

  “Ha, ha, ha, very funny,” Cheyanne said, looking at her watch. “Shit. I’d best get to work…I’ll phone you later, once I know more.”

  Norman placed a comforting kiss on her lips before watching her grab her work stuff; breathing easier as she left the house.