Clifton Falls: A Zombie Story [Part 1]

by Taylor, Lee Andrew

  He dropped the lock after tearing up from thoughts of killing someone, as the corpse stared at him in shock before suddenly toppling to lay still on the road. He backed off and watched it for a few seconds as his wounded arm became numb; cringing as he slowly returned to the truck. He grabbed a first-aid kit, cringing again as he opened it; sweating fast as he reached for a bandage. He tightened it around the wound and gritted his teeth; sitting in the driver’s seat to re-focus, but struggled to press his feet down on the pedals.

  “FUCK!!!” he bellowed.

  But he breathed deeply, soaked up the pain, and started the engine, driving the truck further along the road. Frank was exhausted, but the thought of reaching the police station before anyone found the body motivated him to carry on.

  ***

  Frank pulled up outside the police station minutes later, struggling to move his left side as he almost fell out of the truck. He staggered from side to side; his vision blurry as he closed in on the main doors, mumbling out loud in the hope of someone hearing him. But no one was coming to help.

  He neared the entrance, pleased to see the door slide open on its own to let him in; mustering up the energy to go inside as a receptionist and an officer raced towards him. They helped him to a seat whilst glancing at each other, shaking their heads and feeling confused as to what happened? But Frank was close to falling off the chair.

  “Fetch this man some water,” the officer said towards the receptionist. “I’ll stay with him…”

  But it took her a few seconds to move after witnessing the blood seep through the bandage.

  “…That appears to be a nasty gash on your arm, mate,” the officer said, returning to Frank to hold him upright. “What happened to you?”

  But Frank’s seventeen-stone frame became a struggle for the officer to keep seated.

  “I need to see a doctor,” Frank whispered, gritting his teeth. “The pain is too much. My arm feels like it’s falling off.”

  “Okay, my friend,” the officer calmly replied, seeing Frank clench his fists like he was being electrocuted. “I will take a look at your wound.”

  But the receptionist appeared with a glass of water to spook him. She handed it to Frank, but he couldn’t grip it because his arms were too weak to lift, so, she placed the glass against his lips, seeing him rush the water down his throat.

  “What’s your name?” she asked, touching his head to feel it burn against her fingers. “You’re safe here.”

  “Frank,” he whispered, squinting each time his heart pumped blood into the wound. “I need help…I’m in agony.”

  The officer worryingly stared at the receptionist as he gripped onto Frank, smiling in an attempt to calm him down.

  “Susan, I’m going to need the first aid kit.”

  “I’m on my way,” she replied.

  The officer watched the small, slim, spectacle-wearing woman race off again but Frank shook fast, scaring the officer into almost letting go. He quivered after seeing a puddle of water on the floor, looking up to notice sweat pour from Frank quicker now; feeling heartbroken for not knowing why?

  “My name’s Mike,” he said, seeing Frank’s jacket become drenched in blood. “Do you know what happened to you?”

  Mike was the Chief Inspector. A kind-hearted, helpful man, who did his utmost to look after his staff and the residents of the town. When others fell apart around him, he would be the one who picked them up again. He’d proved it during the violence of last Christmas. He was recommended for an award for keeping the town together during that awful time.

  Frank’s breathing became heavy as he placed bloodied hands over his face. Mike heard tiny whimpers seep through the cracks in the fingers to almost make him want to cry.

  “Tell me what happened to you,” he said, looking around to see where Susan was. “Did someone attack you?”

  Frank removed his hands, revealing red fingerprints on his face.

  “Yeah,” he rushed out of his mouth. “After I phoned - about an accident on the road.”

  “So, it was you who made that call,” Mike replied, happy to be finally filling in the blanks. “My officers told me you’d run over someone, so who was it that attacked you?”

  Frank squeezed his wound as more pain shot through him; shaking his head to splash sweat over Mike before coughing up blood.

  “I don’t know!” he yelled. “But they looked evil.”

  Mike let go before rising to his feet, turning in a circle to swiftly gaze around the station. He was in a state of panic - Who did this?

  “Okay, just try to relax,” he said, nervously gripping Frank’s jacket to reach a hand inside. “This may hurt…”

  But Frank screamed after Mike tried to release his good arm from the jacket.

  “…Sorry, but I can’t get to your wound unless I remove it.”

  “Forget about my wound!” Frank cried out, bursting into more tears. “You need to arrest me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I killed someone.”

  Mike stood back as everyone close by gulped. He knew they were staring at Frank. He could feel them.

  “Do you mean the person you ran over?”

  “No!” Frank shouted. “The person who attacked me…”

  He held out his hands, feeling ashamed as he waited to be handcuffed, but Mike was still processing what Frank just said.

  “…It was a woman and I fuckin’ killed her.”

  Susan returned to witness Frank sink into the chair, as Mike took the first-aid kit from her.

  “You took your time!” he angrily said, opening the kit. “This guy is in pain.”

  “Sorry, but I…”

  “No excuses,” Mike interrupted. “I know you were nattering again…”

  Susan blushed.

  “…Just speak to Wayne. Let him know the truck driver’s here.”

  “Will do,” she said, turning to leave.

  “Also, tell him to check the roadside between where he spoke to the driver and up to here. There may be another body.”

  “And what about you? What will you be doing?”

  Mike glared at her, knowing she was retaliating with questions because he’d upset her. But he wasn’t going to let it get to him.

  “I’m going to sort out Frank’s arm, then take him to the hospital.”

  ELEVEN

  Wayne stood with his phone against his ear, smiling as an ambulance and a police van stopped at the death scene. He nodded, listening to Susan on the other end of the phone before walking over to the opposite side of the road; glancing at two officers exiting the van. He watched them move towards the boot, lifting it before removing plastic cones and barriers; happy to see Jason help place them along the road.

  “Mike wants us to check for more bodies?” Wayne questioned Susan, making sure he heard her properly. “Today is getting freakier and freakier…Tell him I’ll be in touch once I’ve searched.”

  “Okay. Speak soon,” she replied, as the phone went silent.

  Wayne and Susan were a couple, but no one from the station knew about it. They had kept it a secret to avoid the negative comments aimed at dating someone from the workplace, but their romance was three months in. It began just after the Christmas tragedy when Wayne questioned her at the bank. She was one of the customers on that dreadful day. She’d seen the woman being killed, but Wayne couldn’t take his eyes off her when they spoke. He felt responsible for her safety after that day so got her a job at the station, but his act of kindness nearly backfired when he found out she couldn’t work a computer.

  He smiled as thoughts of teaching her behind Mike’s back floated inside his mind, knowing all those hours together had brought them closer. But, as he looked over at Jason lining up the final barrier, shook his head to concentrate on what Susan just said.

  “Hey, J, we got another job. We need to go.”

  “And what’s this one? We need to unravel an ancient Mummy before it strikes.”

  Wayne walked over
to him, almost laughing as he neared.

  “You are always the joker.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “We need to look for another body.”

  Jason shook his head, cringing like he was expecting another trauma to arrive. He always said they would come in threes.

  Wayne walked towards his car but stopped to check on the paramedics struggling to come to terms with the gruesome sight in front of them.

  “I know. It took us by surprise also,” he said, closing in.

  “Who would hack someone to death like this?” one of the medics asked, coughing into his hand. “The poor woman never stood a chance.”

  “That’s what we need to find out,” Jason butted in to say. “But first we need to search for another body.”

  “Yeah, I thought I heard you mention it,” the medic said, looking at Wayne. “Do we have a killer on the loose?”

  “Nah, mate; the woman just fucked herself up before sticking the glass in her head,” Jason angrily blurted out. “What a dumb question.”

  “Hey! Hey! Hey!” Wayne shouted, dragging Jason away from the medic. “It’s not helping…Let’s just do our jobs…Okay?”

  “Okay,” Jason replied, punching thin air.

  “The body has shaken me up,” the medic said, watching his colleague retrieve a body bag from the ambulance. “Someone has been murdered near to where I live…What about my family? How do I know they’re safe? Who is safe?”

  “You need to keep it together,” Wayne said, fearing the man was about to phone someone with the awful news. “Let’s not panic, not yet…The other body could be a hoax.”

  “A hoax or not, I’m not happy with keeping this to myself.”

  “You have to.” Wayne stared at the medic until he turned away, watching him grip the end of the body bag to place next to the corpse. “We will check the area. Just hang around in case we find something.”

  He received no reply, just grunts, as the medic helped his partner lift the body of Amy into the bag before carrying her towards the ambulance.

  ***

  A bloodstained figure was seen lying on the road as Wayne and Jason nervously exited the car to slowly walk towards it; gawping at the scarlet painting formed by the blood.

  “Wayne, what’s going on? This isn’t normal.”

  Wayne puffed out his cheeks and cringed after glancing at the caved-in head of the corpse.

  “No, it’s not normal, but you need to stay focused…I don’t want you losing it to the point of going off the rails again.”

  Wayne had seen Jason lose it in the past over a trivial thing that almost cost him his job, so knew something like this could send him over the edge. It worried him to think that Jason could lose control again.

  “Hey, don’t stress. I’m fine…Just everything’s getting too bizarre, that’s all.”

  “You’d better stay that way.” Wayne smiled at him. “I’m letting the chief know.”

  “What about the medics?”

  “Them too.”

  Jason walked closer to the corpse, releasing his baton before bending down to examine the brain matter oozing out of the split skull. He placed his baton into it, watching it cling on to make him feel sick.

  What was used to do this?

  He looked along the road, spotting the wheel lock a few feet away; shaking his head to see it covered in sticky, dark, dried in blood. He moved over to it as Wayne spoke to Mike on the phone before placing on a glove to pick it up; cursing under his breath to the sound of Wayne shouting - “What you got there?!”

  “Proof that the truck driver’s a fuckin’ maniac,” Jason replied, walking over to him.

  “Do you seriously think he would drive to the station if he was a stone-cold killer?”

  “I don’t know…But he bashed this poor woman to a pulp with this wheel lock.” Jason held it in the air to show Wayne the bloodstains. “I know she looks like something from a freak show, but he didn’t need to smash her skull in. I hope he gets life behind bars…Mike better not let him out of his sight.”

  “I don’t think he will. He’s taken Frank to casualty. Said something about him being attacked by the person on the ground.”

  “The woman on the ground attacked him?” Jason questioned, pointing at the body. “The man is a beast compared to her. He’s lying.”

  “That may be, but until we have the facts we can’t assume anything.”

  “The law fuckin’ sucks.”

  The ambulance pulled up to grab Jason’s attention, stopping him from spurting out more words aimed at how bad the law was as the medics quietly exited. They seemed exhausted mentally as they opened up the back to retrieve another body bag before walking with their heads down towards the latest crime scene.

  “I hope this is the last one,” the other medic said, nervously gawping at the body. “This is doin’ my head in.” He dropped the bag onto the road and gripped the corpse’s arms. “Did you know that the first corpse had been dead for over a week?”

  “We figured,” Wayne replied.

  “But how? It couldn’t walk if it was dead already.”

  “See!” Jason cried out. “Even the medics know something isn’t right…That truck driver is insane.”

  “Yes, we all agree with you,” Wayne spoke up. “But we weren’t there when it happened so can’t judge him yet.”

  “When can we judge him? When he kills more people?”

  Wayne sighed as Jason’s response shook him. He knew it all made sense, that Frank was somehow involved and his story was bogus. Wayne hoped Mike had seen through Frank’s lies.

  “Let’s just get back to the station and leave these guys to it…”

  Wayne saw the other medic grab Paula’s legs before helping his partner put her inside the bag.

  “…Remember what I told you,” Wayne added, as the medics carried the bag towards the ambulance. “Just keep this to yourselves…Until we know more.”

  He watched them, waiting for a reply, but all he heard were grunts.

  TWELVE

  Vincent Smythe drove home after taking his dinner break at 1:00 pm; happily parking his car in the driveway of his house to surprise Mary with some flowers. He exited and opened the front door, holding the flowers behind his back as he entered the house; shutting the door and turning to his right to face one of the entrances that led into the living room. He was close to touching the handle.

  “I’d best put these in water first,” he said, looking at the flowers. “Mary, I’m home. What have I got for lunch today?”

  Vincent walked towards the kitchen, entering to stare at the closed door leading from it to the living room, surprised to not hear the TV or Mary talking to it. He scrunched his lips and walked towards the sink, leaning down to grab a vase from a cupboard whilst glancing several times at the door, but still, Mary never spoke. He shook his head and placed the flowers inside the vase, filling it with water, but a sudden feeling of dread washed over him.

  She might’ve gone upstairs for a rest.

  He put down the vase and went back the way he came before walking up the stairs to enter his bedroom. But she wasn’t there.

  “Mary! Mary! Where are you?” he shouted, picking up speed.

  He checked every room until the panic dug into him, now fearing she may have had a fall somewhere, so headed back down and rushed into the kitchen. But he suddenly stopped to glare at the garden.

  “What’s happened to my mother’s grave?!” he shouted, noticing the back door slightly ajar. "I hope that noisy dog from next door isn’t to blame.”

  He stepped outside, moving quickly along the garden, spurred on by a mix of fury and concern. But, as he reached the burial site of his mother was left shell-shocked to find just a coffin full of dirt.

  Where is she?

  Vincent sunk to his knees to drag the dirt to one side; desperately searching for his mother’s body to feel a sharp pain of guilt wash over him.

  “Mother, I’m here…You’re safe now.
”

  But his heart skipped a beat after finding no trace of her.

  He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so did neither, as he returned to his feet to brush the mud from his clothing. His face turning pasty white as sadness quickly arrived.

  His head slumped as he slowly returned to the house to call out Mary’s name again, but, after not receiving an answer, he glared at the wall that separated both houses. Vincent contemplated on whether to go around next door to complain about what their dog may have done but soon changed his mind after remembering what happened the last time he complained about Bruno. He’d received a load of verbal from the dog’s owner which almost escalated in him being punched, so, thought it best if he let the police handle it.

  He suddenly noticed dirty footprints on the kitchen floor tiles leading to the living room door; shaking his head at not spotting them before.

  What’s Mary playing at?

  He cautiously walked towards the door before catching sight of the fallen saucepan; his mind-melting to leave him more confused as he reached for the door handle. He sucked in a deep breath, hoping that Mary was inside the room, but, as he entered, stopped to stare at bloodstains covering the wall above the fireplace.

  “Mary,” he whispered, noticing the furniture had been rearranged.

  He heard a noise coming from behind the sofa, increasing to make his ears twitch, so closed in as a strange sucking sound was heard. But he stalled as thoughts of being in the twilight zone made him nervous. He stared at the sofa, cringing as the sucking annoyed him; his heart pounding fast after a faint moaning arrived. But his anger motivated him to near it. He closed in with caution, kneeling on the piece of furniture before leaning over it, but almost puked after seeing a tiny, deformed figure with an eye dangling down hold a piece of a human brain within the only hand it had. It was biting and sucking on it, not worried that Vincent was hovering above.

  He gulped hard; sweating from a sudden dose of fear after seeing the bloodied corpse of Mary with her face unrecognisable by his dead mother’s side. He spat out sick after noticing the top of her head was missing, looking away to see the Stanley knife coated in red lying a few feet away. He froze, not able to think or do anything, but the zombie ignored him and sucked up more brain tissue.