Looking over at Marcus over his shoulder was some writing on the mirror, written in blood, WE’VE BEEN WATCHING YOU and hanging next to it was a small black rectangular digital voice recorder. Marcus took it down, and hit play
“Hello Mr. Barnes, Mr. North” came a deep gruff male voice “Firstly I would like to apologize for the state we have left your humble abode in, but frankly we didn’t have much choice. Your ginger spectacled friend here, wasn’t very welcoming. So we were forced to make our own way in, you are probably thinking why? But the truth is, you’re in my town now and I never invited you, and you didn’t have the good grace to introduce yourselves” the voice chuckled “Sorry, how rude I haven’t introduced myself yet. Well I’m Jared and I am Grand Master of an organization called the Knights. I am not intending on killing you or anyone, you see the more you kill of the dead the less I have too, but your friend here killed one of my guys. So an eye for an eye hey!” he laughed at himself again “I love irony” he paused to compose himself We will take care of your females for you, they will make valuable members of our breeding program, you see we are an endangered species now. So out of good faith I expect you to pay for your time by leaving whatever food or weapons you may have and go”
Back, in the here and now, Drew looked at the man slumped in the chair, he had photographs all around him of his family Drew presumed, holding onto what he could until it was too much. He picked up a picture of what was presumably the man his wife and daughter. One that stood out to Drew was a nice one of the man lifting his young daughter down off of a tall elegant brown horse, with the sun setting on the horizon, from the snippets of his life he seemed like a lovely family man, it was sick it had to end this way for him.
“Boss?” Marcus tapped Drew on the shoulder “Look at this”
Marcus handed Drew a black rectangular digital voice recorder, identical to the one they had received before.
Drew shot Marcus a look of concern but nervously pressed play.
There was a crackle then the same gruff deep voice spoke.
“Christopher, my friend. I am exceedingly sorry it has come to this, but your standards have slipped, and it is not good enough. I expected more from you and you have not delivered, I know I demand a lot from you but you know how high your stakes are” The characteristic pause of a man who loves the sound of his own voice “Your wife, Jane, she has been put through so much because of you, I did promise to keep them safe for you, but you didn’t fulfil your end of the deal” He coughed and cleared his throat “Her cooking and cleaning was of grateful service and will be sorely missed, I must admit though I did make sure she had a good time before the end of her tenure with us, at least seven of my guys showed her our absolute genuine gratitude and I heard she was saying that it was the best time she had, but she was too old for the breeding program,. So, she has been returned to you because I’m a good guy and you will find her hanging around in your barn hahaha” he laughed to himself “You will get it when you see it. Haha hanging around!” clearing his throat again for dramatic effect “And your daughter, Aubree, well let’s just say, she has proved to be a very popular product, she was highly sought after at auction, I hope your proud of yourself Christopher. My friend”
3
It was early, the sun was coming up on another late spring morning, where you would have once expected to see glorious flowers along the banks of the road, had now been replaced by the grueling sight of a corpse torn in half, laying in the road, pummeled by vehicles until its head was one with the blacktop. Crows picking at the poor unfortunate soul’s open flesh from the top of the spinal cord where the skull had been detached from the neck.
Marcus put his recently filled fuel cans down, Five litres of diesel in each can, Drew had one filled and another about a third of the way, they had been out for hours scouring the area, looking for vehicles to siphon the tanks dry. Fuel had been coming a bit sparse of late, and Marcus’ big Two and a half litre machine drank a lot of it, but there was no way he would be giving it up lightly.
“Poor bastard” said Drew “I wonder if he was dead or alive when he died” a question as absurd in its nature seemed relatively normal now.
Marcus did not answer, he casually checked the dead guys pockets, Drew looked on quizzically. Marcus found a wallet and threw it over to him, landing by his feet, He put down his cans.
He opened the black leather wallet, flimsy and worn from years of use, constantly in and out of pockets. Cheap leather, peeling from the corners. He found a bank card, MR T A HENDERSON, he took out a driver’s license. His first name was Timothy, he was only twenty three, the photographic ID taken when he undoubtedly used to go out and enjoy himself back when the world was right, now shows no resemblance to the flattened pulp that lined the road, he also had a card showing him as an organ donor. No way that was going to happen now.
Marcus saw something shining on Timothy’s wrist, he rolled up his sleeve, and found a watch, quite a fancy looking silver watch, he undone the catch, it was a TAG Heuer. The clock was still working and showing the correct time. Solar power.
“What are you doing?” Drew asked as Marcus was tightening the watch up on to his own wrist
“Dude, this watch is like worth two grand” Marcus answered
“But it is not yours?” Drew said he did not always agree with the way Marcus did things.
“I think he’ll be ok with it?” Marcus said sarcastically “Won’t you buddy?”
Drew shook his head picked up his cans and carried on walking.
They walked on in awkward silence. Marcus a few paces ahead of Drew, his pack on his back, his rifle hanging over his shoulder, Marcus suited this survivalist life. In contrast, carrying his own rucksack was uncomfortable for Drew.
Thankfully after another half hour of walking, they had come to another vehicle, they stopped again, and Drew was able to get some respite and take the load of his shoulders.
A cobalt grey Nissan Qashqai Ntec was smashed up, a head on collision with a huge oak tree, the bonnet was crumpled like a piece of tin foil, a complete write off. The fuel cap was still in place, which was the telltale sign that it was yet to be drained of fuel, hopefully this would be enough to fill the other can, before they get back to the truck. Drew took a two metre long piece of plastic tubing from his bag, Marcus walked around to the driver’s side, in the driver’s seat was a young woman, clearly killed on impact, her legs were crushed under the front end of the car, but she was thrashing and fighting against the deployed airbag, in a state of frenzy,
Marcus yanked on the door, after a few hard pulls he got it open, the metal of the hinges grinding on itself as it released. The dead woman flies at him, but unable to get near as the bottom half of her is stuck, she keeps pulling away, tearing the skin around her waist, trying desperately to taste living flesh, Marcus smirks as she struggles against her constraints, and casually unties the billhook from his tool belt and slams it down, carving open a segment of her skull and slicing through her brain. He is impressed with it, He wipes the blood off the blade onto the airbag, he reached down and pulled the lever releasing the fuel catch.
Drew managed to suck the fuel up through the pipe and siphon out the diesel into the remaining can, he spits on the floor, no matter how quick he did it, he always seemed to get a mouthful before he could transfer the pipe to the can.
They got back to the truck, still parked up where they left it, at an Esso fuel station, they figured would be the safest place as ironically a fuel station is the last place you would expect to find a vehicle with any fuel in as the pumps have been empty since the start of the plague. They put the cans in the load area of the truck, Marcus felt something was missing from the load bay, but couldn’t figure what, so he walked around to the driver’s side of the vehicle, shutting up the fuel cap as he walked past, and jumped into the driver’s seat. Drew was already sat in the passenger seat, buckling up.
“What a productive morning!” Marcus cheered slamming his door shut.<
br />
“It looks like it is” came back an unfamiliar voice.
In Marcus’s face was a shotgun, on the end of the shotgun was a man with a deep scar down the right-hand side of his wrinkled face, his nose had clearly been broken several times, sports maybe? Bar fight more likely, the guy was tall, but not too intimidating, minus the shotgun pressed up to the window, Drew reached for the Kimber.
“Don’t even think about it” the guy said “Or I’ll blow your mates head off and you can pick his skull out of your own face”
“Calm down” Marcus said to the guy.
“I’m sorry it has to be like this I genuinely am” the guy spoke “Thing is they are coming, and they are going to kill me, so I need to get the hell out of here”
“Who are coming?” Drew asked
“You know? them freaks?” the guy continued “Those freaks in the masks, they are after me”
Drew had non clue who this man was going on about, he tried to reason with him.
Marcus realized what was missing.
“You got my gun?” he said “So you’re a thief as well as a potential murderer”
The guy sniggered at him
“Needs must, now get out and give me the keys”
"Screw you” Marcus shook his head
The guy brought the gun up ready to fire, ready to send Marcus to meet his maker.
“Wait, wait, wait” Panicked Drew “Jump in we can give you a lift, get you out of here”
“No, I hold all the cards here, I make the demands, now get out of the truck”
Marcus shook his head; Drew froze up in fear.
“Last chance buddy, put the gun down” Marcus encouraged
The guy refused, he wanted the truck, he was not going to take no for an answer. He pulled the trigger but nothing happened. The guy was confused, could not understand what had happened. He stepped back puzzled looking at the faulty firearm.
Marcus opened the door, quickly and with full force slamming it into the guys face, smashing the bridge of his already broken nose, knocking him to the floor, blood pouring from his nostrils. Marcus flung himself out of the truck and kicked him with his steel toe caps right in the side of the head, knocking him unconscious, and gave him a few in the ribs for good measure, cracking some of them for sure.
“It’s deactivated asshole” he shouted down at the guy laying in a pool of his own blood.
Drew looked at Marcus quizzically.
“It was my Grandads, was given to me as a child” Marcus explained “Safety first”
Drew gave Marcus a hand as they dragged the guy across the forecourt with a long trail of blood, towards the front window of the garage, that was already smashed open by a Skoda Octavia which had found its way into a coffee machine at the back of the shop. Marcus sat the guy in the seat where the attendant would usually sit and take payments. Drew headed out of the building and back to the truck whilst Marcus had a look around for useful supplies or materials.
“Find anything?” Drew asked as Marcus slid into the seat and turned the key.
“Just some batteries and some cable ties” he replied “Oh, and this” he pulled out a bottle of Russian standard vodka. “We earned this today”
They pulled out of the fuel station and drove off, the sun fully up in the sky now and headed back towards the farm, what they had started to call home over the last few days, close enough to Andover, but not too close, out of the way, anonymous. For now.
Back at the fuel station the sound of hollering woke the guy. He was sat on a chair, but he could not move, he could taste blood in his mouth, and his nose hurt like hell. He looked down at his wrists. They were cable tied to the arms of the chair. His legs too he could not get up. He was so frightened; he never been so scared in his life. They were yelling and shouting, but in glee, it was primitive like some tribal ritual. A person in a clown mask came into the store, he was of huge build, his thighs like tree trunks his arms could choke a bear. This guy was terrifying. He approached him laughing, at him, he came close, bent down and put his masked face into the guy on the chairs face. The man was desperately trying to get free but all he was achieving was feeding the guy’s hysterics, the clown produced a hammer and a chisel held it in the air, turned around to some of the other masked maniacs behind him. The guy in the chair soiled himself in fear, crying uncontrollably.
The chisel went through the bone with the first blow, from the strength of the brute using it. The guy screamed at the top of his lungs, the pain of which itself would have been crippling from the broken ribs sustained earlier. The chisel crashed down again, and again, taking off a finger, at the knuckle with every strike of the hammer. With such precision. He left the second hand, instead he released him from his restraints by slashing the cable ties. The man in the chair grabbed his hand with the fingers now hacked off and pulled it to his chest. Whilst another of the masked men approached with a Makita petrol disc cutter, the sound of it ran chills up the guys spine, Whistling to himself he came forward and tore the disc into the man’s legs, shouting at him as his shins were cut in half, the sound of bone grinding onto the cutter, the smell of flesh burning, it was unbearable.
They man fell forward out of the chair, face first, and curled into a ball. The masked men retreated, laughing as they went, leaving a woman to enter the room, she was wearing a short skirt and fishnet stockings, her face painted white with a star over her left eye, her hair was jet black, she had bright red lipstick smudged across her mouth. She stood over him, legs either side. She sat down on his side. His blood oozing across the floor around him. She pulled his dismembered hand towards her and sucked on the end of his fingers that were nothing but stumps. Then rubbing the blood across her face, and then her body, she was singing some strange song it sounded hypnotic. A man approached with a can of fuel; she took it from him. Unscrewed the lid, and doused the poor victim in petroleum, from head to toe,
Outside the mob of frenzied blood thirsty maniacs had lit torches made from wood and rag, like medieval times. The woman with the man’s blood over her body, took one of these torches and threw it into the building, through the smashed window, the fuel caught alight, the guy screamed in pain, as he tried in vain to crawl out. They all watched as he burned alive. Whooping and hollering in sheer delirium.
4
Marcus peered from the window, at a house on the opposite side of the court. The houses in each court on this estate were set out in squares with walkways at the corners where the houses meet. They were out and about again in search of resources. Food, drink, clothes or whatever they could find. And of course, for any clue on where Sarah was or what had happened to her. They were getting more adventurous and heading closer and closer to the town. Where she is more likely to be, but also where it is more dangerous. Areas like this which were more densely populous before the turn, are now more populated after, either from people who tried waiting out the plague, others who had been caught up in gang fighting or people who have been bitten and turned themselves. Nobody was safe from this, no matter how hard they tried.
“Something has got their attention” Spoke Marcus calmly “Or someone?”
Drew was searching through a wardrobe, taking out a navy blue Superdry hoodie and checking it for size, the extra layers could always come in handy. He joined Marcus at the window, Marcus pointed to show him a group of the undead staggering their way along the court to join another huddle that were already outside, clawing at the windows of the opposite house. Something was drawing their interest, noise.
Drew saw them. A group of three or four people move into a room at the front of the house. They were moving furniture, tables, chairs. They were rushing about making some sort of barricade. Maybe they were in trouble? Maybe they were being chased? If they got a horde chasing them, then they were going to come out into this other collective in front of the house.
“We got to help them; they are in peril” Drew said to Marcus.
“Not our problem” replied Marcus coldly “
Helping others is the fastest way to wind up dead”
Drew hurried down the stairs, past photos on the walls of the previous occupants, hanging proudly on a magnolia wall, the proof that there was once a better life.
He opened the front door and headed out, he stopped and crouched by a small brick wall at the bottom of the path, as Marcus followed out behind.
“I’m going to try and get their attention, alert them to what’s outside” Drew explained “Then we will distract the dead and give them a safer exit”
Before Marcus could even open his mouth to complain, all of a sudden, a rasp of small arms fire sent a crack through the air, birds flew from the trees, the echo reverberated around the court sending fear into Drew. Marcus’s demeanor had completely changed, he grabbed Drew by the scruff of his neck and pulled him up, Marcus swung his rifle around from his back and started running towards the dead. There was a second burst of fire, it was coming from behind the house in question.
They were closing towards the house, unnoticed by the swarm outside. They were more interested in the commotion inside and from the other side of the house. The door flung open, a man ran out his head looking behind him over his shoulder, shouting at his friends
“Come on this way!”
Before Marcus could let a shot off, one of the dead sunk its razor-sharp teeth into the man’s neck, digging into his jugular. Drew yelled at the others to get back into the house, as Marcus annihilated a few of the mass of the living dead with his rifle, before unsheathing his billhook. He slashed at the ones closet to the door, creating a pocket for them to back into and inside the house. Drew grabbed the guy who had been bit by his collar and pulled him inside.
The man was a mess, sprawled out in the hallway, on the oak laminated floor. Half of the skin on his face appeared to have been pulled back across, flapping over his burst eyeball. He was screaming in excruciating pain. There were further bite marks and puncture wounds across the top half of his body. He was losing blood rapidly, creating pools around him. The other three of them, were stood there staring, in shock and horror. A massive man, full of muscle, who would not look out of place as a forward on a professional rugby team, stepped forward and bent down next to the man.
After The Turn: Redemption Page 2