Hellspawn (Book 7): Hellspawn Aftermath

by Fleet, Ricky

  A young girl, long dead judging by the way her sallow flesh drooped from the bones. Red hair, now covered in grime and grease from digging herself from the ground. They’d tied them in pigtails, with yellow bows. A fraud, a trick, an attempt to deny the youthful life was gone from the soulless husk. Another form of life had taken its place, a blasphemous, hellspawned life.

  In Jason’s mind the word flashed again; Supernatural. What else could it be? Dodging past the open mouthed, slavering creature, he started to analyse the situation. Word among the guards at the start of the outbreak was an experiment gone awry. No shit! But if an experiment was the cause, why couldn’t it be the solution? What was the place called? The Large Hadron Collider? Could the apocalypse be halted? He remembered a story in The Times about efforts to recreate a God Particle, or some such nonsense. By the look of the world, they’d only succeeded in creating the Devil Particle.

  “Stop this,” a voice whispered.

  Spinning around, he looked for his wife. Her soft, gentle voice was unmistakeable.

  “We need you.”

  Startled again, he turned in a full circle, frowning. It had come from so close, he could almost feel the warm breath on his neck.

  “Daddy?”

  “Clarissa?” Jason called, whirling in a maddening loop. She was supposed to be safe, far from the prison. Hay had promised.

  A faint scent of her perfume washed away the taint of decomposition, bringing tears to Jason’s eyes. “Rissy?” he muttered, using the nickname she hated.

  “Come back,” whispered his wife, growing fainter. It might just have been the winter wind.

  The carefully erected wall of disengagement toppled, and he could see clearly again. His wife was below, in the segregation wing. The prison had fallen, and the open yard was rapidly filling with the ravenous dead. Zombies shuffled all around him, and here he was considering the implications of a mission to fucking Switzerland! Idiot!

  A scuffle was breaking out around the tunnel to the north. Two prisoners were inside the failsafe car, revving the engine. Another was head first through the window, wrestling with the gear stick judging by the awful grinding coming from beneath the bonnet. The passenger was doing his best to punch the flailing man who was preventing their escape, but the awkward angle was making the task difficult. Jason could see a half dozen of the inmates flee through the makeshift gate and down the steps into the gloom.

  “What’re you doing? They’re in the tunnel!” the kicking man screamed from inside the vehicle.

  A heavyset zombie stumbled over to the fracas, his suit and shirt hanging open, as well as the hollowed gut which flapped like an open mouth. Lunging forward, he bit deeply into the calf. The heroic prisoner screamed in pain from within the car. Taking advantage of the distraction, the driver shifted into first and gunned it. Simultaneously, the doomed hero fell in a twisted heap with his feasting murderer, while the heavy chains looped around the towing eye snapped taut. A cloud of dust followed the short lived screams of terror from below. As the car accelerated away, the links ripped the twisted frame of the gate from the dark tunnel. Blood saturated the metal, shed from the men who it had cut to pieces on its way to the light.

  “Wait for me!” yelled a prisoner from the open doorway of the gym hall, before sprinting towards the car.

  The others inside sealed the door and began barricading it up. Watching the vehicle as it fishtailed across the frost hardened ground, the prisoner realized they couldn’t hear him. Rushing back to the entrance, he started to beat on the wire reinforced glass of the gymnasium. Three rotters pulled him down before he could even curse the names of the faces that peered out in abject horror.

  Without knowing how, Jason had closed the distance between himself and D wing. Most of the cadavers milling around were lured away by the crazed efforts of the driver who was careening towards the opening in the wall. Zombies bounced from the hood, splitting apart in their rot weakened state.

  “Wipers,” Jason said, still partly in thrall to shock and madness.

  Unable to hear the words, the driver complied regardless, smearing the windscreen with clotted green blood. Jason was unsure if they were just blinded, or if in their panic they would have attempted the manoeuvre anyway. Crashing through the thicker mass of corpses at the shattered wall, the car nosedived into the crater, ejecting the occupants through the coated glass like bullets.

  Losing sight of the twisted bodies as the zombies closed in to feed, he shook his head. “Morons.”

  As he neared the security door, Jason still felt devoid of fear. Once he would have shied away from the thugs fighting each other at the door in their desperation to get to safety. Walking up behind them, he patiently waited while they clawed and punched. Glancing back to the yard, the one sided battle was over. Everything living was now either turned or on its way into cold, dead stomachs.

  “Are you coming, or not?” begged Perry, a young prisoner serving two years for burglary. Blood soaked his prison shirt from a broken nose.

  “Thank you,” Jason replied, stepping over the concrete threshold as the youngster slammed the steel door.

  The self-locking mechanism clacked into place, sealing them inside. Jason paused for a few moments, letting the other inmates disperse to whatever course of action they had planned. Dull thuds carried through the thick metal barrier as the new warders took over.

  Looking at Perry, Jason said, “I’m going to get my wife now.” He walked into the gloom, towards the admin block and the passages that would take him below.

  “Can I come with you?” Perry mumbled through a tilted head and pinched nose.

  Jason ignored the plea. He had one mission, and nothing was going to stop him.

  Chapter 4

  Christina approached the procession of resolute faces. The soldiers followed Matt, their strides disciplined. Kurt and the others trailed behind, lost in conversation.

  Blocking their way, the doctor motioned for Matt to give his hand.

  “What’s that?” he asked, seeing the syringe with its clear liquid.

  “It’ll take the edge off and keep you mobile for the next few hours,” was all she would say.

  Sliding the needle into his arm, she pressed the plunger. Matt felt the chill of the drugs, swiftly accompanied by a warm glow that spread throughout his body.

  “This won’t slow me down, will it, lass?”

  “No more than that leg wound,” Christina replied.

  “It’s feeling a bit better,” said Matt, stretching the muscle.

  “You’ll pay for it later, but I think needs must at the moment. Good luck.”

  “Thanks, Doc. I’ve got to make it back first.”

  “You will,” she said with a certainty he didn’t share.

  Moving off, Holbeck joined his side. “If you’re going to be a liability to us, now’s the time to tell me.”

  “I won’t slow you down. If it comes to it, just leave me behind,” stated Matt.

  “We need you to guide us to the prisoners. I just wanted to be sure you were capable.”

  “I walked miles carrying that wee girl with blood streaming from my leg. I think I can manage a few stairs and a trek across the exercise yard.”

  “Ok. Thanks.”

  Matt grunted and fought on.

  Dropping back, the sergeant joined Kurt’s party at the rear. “You really don’t need to risk yourselves. We can handle this.”

  “Once you get inside the walls it’s going to be hand to hand. Do you have much experience of that?”

  “Well, not much,” admitted Holbeck. The insanity of the farm attack came flooding back. How close they’d come to being killed. The night in the tree. “We’ll manage.”

  “No. We’re going with you.”

  “I’d feel a lot happier if I didn’t have to watch your arses. This is a job for the army.”

  “No disrespect, Sergeant, but you guys haven’t been doing too well of late, have you?” Kurt replied.

  “Wel
l, no, but we’re trying to make amends. Baxter’s taint will follow us long after this shit is over.”

  “That’s if it ever will be over,” replied Kurt.

  “Let’s hope so. I don’t want to do this for the rest of my days.”

  Kurt scanned the faces and noticed the missing. “Babe, where are the boys?”

  She shrugged. “I figured they were getting ready after seeing the soldiers.”

  “They weren’t there when they arrived. So much was going on I didn’t even give it a second thought. Has anyone seen the boys?”

  Blank faces looked back.

  Christina stepped forward. “I might have a hunch. I’m sorry that I didn’t connect the dots sooner.”

  “What’re you talking about, Doc?”

  “They came to me yesterday, asking questions about my parents.”

  “So?” he couldn’t see the connection.

  “I fear they may have ignored my advice and snuck out to find them,” she said, lowering her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” Kurt demanded.

  DB stepped between them to calm the situation. “She just did. You know how headstrong they are, Kurt.”

  “But they’re out there!” Kurt waved at the window. “Alone!”

  Honey got between them all, growling low in her throat in warning. She didn’t know who to protect, so turned her attention to both parties, barking once at Kurt, then a second time at DB.

  “Ok, girl, easy,” said Kurt, stepping back.

  “You know she doesn’t like it when we fight,” said Sarah, scratching behind her ears.

  “No fighting. What do we do?” demanded Kurt.

  Jonesy spoke up. “I’ll take the big man here and go and find the boys. You take Matt and the others to the prison. By the time we both get back, it’ll be late afternoon I would guess?”

  “My parent’s home is only six miles away,” offered Christina. “I’ll show you on a map.”

  “We can be there in less than an hour,” said Jonesy.

  “Ok, mate, do it. Christina, I’m sorry for sounding off at you.”

  “I shouldn’t have given them so much to go on. I’m really sorry, Kurt.”

  He gave her a quick no hard feelings hug and she left to pass along the location to the soldiers.

  “What time is it now?”

  DB checked his watch. “Just after eight. We can probably have them home by lunch.”

  “That’s if they’re ok,” Kurt fretted.

  “Mate, they’re fighters. And on top of that, they’re smart. They know how to play the game better than most. I know they’ll be ok.”

  Kurt seemed to take the praise on board, but his face hardened. “Don’t go easy on them. I want you to give them the bollocking of a lifetime. And tell them I’ll be delivering round two of that bollocking when they get back.”

  “You got it.” Jonesy grinned, heading away with DB in tow.

  “Why can’t things be fucking simple?” Kurt muttered, rubbing at his face.

  “It’s the apocalypse, babe. Things are never simple,” replied Sarah.

  “Sergeant, wait for us at the walls. We’ll be along in a few minutes once we’ve geared up.”

  “Gotcha. We’ll be ready.”

  The troops marched away, led by Gloria.

  “Fucking kids!” Kurt snapped.

  Sarah laughed and pushed him. “They’re yours, not mine!”

  “I think you had something to do with it.”

  “Nope. I deny all knowledge.”

  “What were they thinking?” Kurt said, dumbfounded.

  “They were thinking they could help. You forget we’ve adopted a couple of ragged orphans.”

  “And?”

  “Imagine how tempting it must’ve been for them to help reunite a family. They had an opportunity to un-orphan someone they love.”

  Kurt pulled her close as they walked the hallway. “Un-orphan, is that even a word?”

  “It is now. I’m going to make my own dictionary.”

  Kurt kissed her neck. “I love you.”

  “Of course you do. I’m adorable.”

  “I’m still going to kill them.”

  “Three on one?” Sarah replied. “I don’t fancy your chances.”

  “Our boys are growing up too fast,” he grumbled.

  “They are. And be grateful they can.”

  “Can’t argue with that.” He gave her a squeeze and they headed for the armoury.

  Chapter 5

  Inside the block, chaos reigned. Prisoners were fighting each other for any weapon they could find, only weakening their numbers further as the injured writhed on the grey floor. Jason shook his head in bewilderment at their stupidity.

  “What?” asked Perry who had attached himself to Jason’s hip.

  “It doesn’t matter. I need to get to my wife.”

  “I can help.”

  Jason ignored his offer and waded through the thickest of the hand to hand combat. A man fell at his feet, holding out a hand while the other tried, unsuccessfully, to hold his guts in. The prisoner who had stolen the knife rushed off, covered in blood. Jason simply stepped around the mortally wounded prisoner, leaving him to call out for help that wasn’t coming.

  “What’re we going to do?” asked Perry, terror adding a shrill edge to his voice.

  “I’m getting my wife, then I’m getting out of here.”

  “And if we can’t get out? Those things are everywhere! This place is crawling!”

  “Then at least we’ll be together. I can spend a couple of days with her before dehydration does its work. I hear you dream towards the end.”

  Jason listened to himself and wondered where the new man had come from. One of his old teachers came to mind, a Mr Adams. He had been a squat, gruff, red headed Scot who instilled fear and discipline in equal measure. During one assembly he had recounted a phrase used by his grandfather during the First World War. Forged through adversity, or something along those lines. Was that what had happened? Had the beatings forged him like an ingot of steel? Had the wounds tempered him like a red hot sword quenched in water? Perhaps. Inmates who had once jeered and struck him now gave a wide berth. Those that hadn’t witnessed the calm execution in the yard could still see a glint in his eyes that made them wary of the engineer.

  “Mr Rechtman?”

  A crash to their rear caused Perry to flinch, but Jason marched on. The inmates had upended the pool table and were wrestling with the four thick legs. Those further down the infamy pecking order hovered in the periphery, waiting for the hardened cons to retrieve their prize. Moving in respectfully, they slipped several solid balls into socks. Against a human, they could be devastating. Against the undead? They would find out soon enough. Gavin, one of the slimiest prisoners Jason had come across took his chance. Swinging like a batter, the long cotton sock cracked against the face of Carl, a notorious bank robber. Roaring in pain, he dropped the club and tried to hold his shattered nose and cheekbones together.

  “Now you’ve done it,” Perry muttered.

  Carl’s crew circled the table, ready to murder the youngster. Seeing their old friend was blinded by the flowing blood, they weighed his value to their survival. Gavin backed away, eyeing them with bared teeth. With a single nod, he was pardoned, and they moved off as a foursome. So much for loyalty.

  “Wait up!” called Perry.

  Jason was almost out of sight at the end of the wing. A twin set of steel gates led through into the processing area and the individual wing segregation cells. Each block had ten repurposed cells, completely separate from the general population. Hearing a commotion coming, Jason stood aside as a group charged towards the kitchen area, hoping to secure some food. Water would have been a more sensible target, but the collection barrels were all outside. And outside now belonged to the dead. A handful of rice and beans would do nothing to fend off the lack of life sustaining liquid. Reality slipped in and for the first time he understood t
he likelihood of escaping the prison was near zero. One tunnel was blown up. The other had been collapsed by the morons in the car. The third, which had killed the two Gypsies, was back up and running. However, it would only be accessible by crossing a sizeable portion of the yard and communal garden. Dodging between the upright rotters wasn’t difficult when they were focused on easier prey. Once the screaming meat had been turned or consumed, the zombies would besiege the wings themselves.

  Suicide. It’s got to be suicide, Jason decided. He would figure some way of ending it for himself and his beloved wife if they ended up trapped. Dying of thirst was slow and probably excruciating, despite the promise of pleasant hallucinations. They had both been through enough. Clarissa was safe. Hay had promised, and Jason trusted his word. At least his daughter would go on living.

  “Shall I try and find the keys, Mr Rechtman?”

  The dark opening that led down to the original segregation facility had been left open at all times to facilitate access to the females. Once the rota system had been brought in, the heavy steel door was still left open. Flaying alive was a natural deterrent to the darker whims of the brutal occupants of the prison. Families were isolated on one side, meaning the women and children. The men were kept in a completely separate part of D wing. The paedophiles were kept on the opposite side of seg, crammed eight to a cell. Until they were needed for entertainment, or… the other thing. Jason shuddered at the thought as he marched down into the gloom.

  He’d been looking for a scrap of food about a month prior. Anything to quieten the painful growls of his deprived stomach after working forty-eight hours straight. Cupboards were bare and even the bins were empty. Deciding to risk a beating, he headed for the freezer. Pulling on the handle, defrosted water spilled from the walk in appliance. Any ice from the previous night’s sub-zero temperatures was collected and left inside to preserve the food as much as possible. If you could call human carcasses food. Connor was hanging from a pair of meat hooks, with an unknown molester to his side. Both had been hollowed out. Slowly shutting the door, Jason’s appetite had mysteriously disappeared. He’d never set foot in the kitchen since.