Hellspawn (Book 7): Hellspawn Aftermath

by Fleet, Ricky

  “Bastards!” Jonesy spat suddenly.

  “What’s up?” DB called back.

  “These people were surviving! I’m going to fucking kill whoever did this!”

  “Cool it, bro. We don’t even know if the people inside are good or bad. They may’ve had it coming.”

  “Fuck that! Somehow these people got word out that there was safety here. They took people in!”

  “They could be cannibals stocking up the larder! No assumptions!”

  Jonesy huffed. DB was right.

  “How could they do it?” asked Winston as they reached the final corner.

  “Get word out? It can only be HAM radio,” replied DB.

  “Things went to shit so quickly. I’m amazed they had time to secure the estate, let alone send out a call for survivors.”

  “Probably the same thing that’s happening now,” said Sam as they reached the final corner.

  Eyes turned to him questioningly.

  “The zombies are drawn to fire and noise. If something big was going on nearby, the people would’ve had a good window to get their defences up. Now we’re using the same thing to get to them. Hopefully.”

  DB nodded. “A few people with their lives on the line can get a hell of a lot done.”

  “We can ask when we’ve got them out safely,” finished Jonesy.

  Another shriek reached a pitch of unendurable agony before cutting off with a dying gurgle.

  “This is it. Finger’s crossed,” said DB, looking back at Braiden.

  “I’m ready,” he replied.

  The street was similarly quiet. In total, only a dozen undead wandered around aimlessly. A larger group of perhaps thirty were crammed against one of the alleys.

  “They can see something,” said Jonesy.

  “Let’s cross the road to get a better angle.”

  Following DB, they saw what had the zombies so riled. A woman and child were perched atop the blockade, clutching at the roof of the house for support. DB couldn’t make out if they were more afraid of the undead or the height and precarious nature of their platform.

  “That’s going to be our way in!” declared Jonesy. “We clear the road and use those ladders to get up.”

  Two sets of double extension ladders were secured to a van halfway down the road. Upon seeing the group, the woman tensed and prepared to scream for help. Jonesy waved her off frantically, before holding a finger to his lips. Beyond terrified, still she understood the command.

  “Sam, your dad’s a plumber. Do you know how to get those clamps off?”

  “Yeah, piece of cake.”

  “Ok, Braiden, cover him while he’s getting them down. Winston, you’re with DB on the main group by the alley. I’ll pick off the lone zombies following in the last street. Once we’re clear we get one ladder up this side, and one down the other.”

  Knowing what they had to do, they separated silently to their individual tasks. Sam chose to climb straight onto the roof of the vehicle instead of straining from the sides. The steel panel clunked from the shifting weight, but Braiden was there to protect his brother. Jonesy raced between targets, slashing once for each head and then moving on before the bodies had time to fall. So rapt were the reaching zombies on the sweet meat above, DB and Winston cut them down effortlessly without drawing their attention.

  “Oh, thank you! Thank you, so much!” praised the woman. Turning to the little girl, she pulled her tight. “See, honey, I told you we’d be rescued. The army’s here now.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, lady, but the army’s gone. We’re just two more deserters trying to stay alive.”

  “I don’t care! Please hurry, there are people still inside!”

  Tossing the rotten bodies over the low walls of the neighbouring homes, they cleared a path for Sam and Braiden who came clattering over with enough noise to reawaken the newly dead.

  “How sturdy is that thing?” DB asked.

  “Solid. Once Irish finished the walls, we packed it tight with everything we could find,” she replied.

  Throwing up the first ladder, the woman quickly stepped onto the rungs. Beckoning towards the little girl, she held on tightly to an upturned chair leg and refused to budge.

  “Come on, honey. It’s perfectly safe.”

  Unconvinced, the child increased her limpetlike grip on the thick wooden leg.

  DB could picture a huge clock, each tick of the second hand gonging deafeningly like an omen of doom. “We don’t have time for this. I’ll get her! Come on down.”

  Moving as fast as her trembling form would allow, she fell into the arms of Jonesy who steadied her.

  “Thank you.”

  “What’s her name?” asked DB.

  “Tara.”

  DB took the steps two at a time, the aluminium frame bouncing from his weight. Reaching the top, he smiled warmly. “Hey, Tara. I’m DB. I need to get you down, sweetheart.”

  She shook her head firmly.

  “Do you know why they call me DB? It used to mean Dough Ball. I was so fat I couldn’t even fit through a door,” he said, puffing his cheeks out.

  She smiled slightly, but held on for dear life.

  “I was so fat, I broke every chair I sat on.” He made a groaning sound and finished it with an explosion. Bracing his legs on the rungs, he used his hands to demonstrate it blowing apart.

  She giggled. “You’re not fat. You’re tall, like a giant.”

  “Other kids used to tease me. I bet you wouldn’t, though. You’re way too nice.”

  “Callum used to pull my hair at school. I didn’t like him. I bet he would’ve been mean to you too.”

  “Callum sounds like a poopy bum head,” DB stated, triggering more giggling. “How about you come with me and your mum?”

  “She’s not my mummy,” Tara said quietly.

  Cursing himself for breaking his own rule on making assumptions, DB expected the girl to completely clam up. Instead, she surprised him by letting go of the upturned table.

  “My mummy’s in Heaven with my daddy,” she said, holding her arms out.

  “So are mine, sweetheart,” DB husked, picking her up. She weighed next to nothing and DB had her down in moments, passing her back to the woman.

  “Is there a ladder on the other side, ma’am?” Jonesy asked the woman.

  “My name’s Emma,” she replied. “And no, there’s no ladder. We had to climb the rubbish.”

  “Boys, stay here and keep them safe. Sam, pass the second ladder up once we’ve got to the top,” said DB.

  “Remember, you might still have company any second now from the last street. I saw a few rounding the corner. If it gets too much, whistle, then get the hell out of here.”

  Braiden was hovering, staring at the young lady. “Are Gail and Don in there?” he asked tentatively.

  She looked confused. “Who’s that?”

  Her words hit him like a physical blow. Lowering his face, he moved away to be alone. DB pulled a face at the other boys that said keep an eye on him.

  Braiden stopped suddenly and turned, his eyes blazing in anger. “I want to go.”

  “We’ve got this, Bray. Keep the girls safe for me,” said Jonesy, scurrying up the rungs in pursuit of DB.

  Sam was ready, the second ladder in hand. Offering it up, the soldiers pulled it up and dropped it over the other side with a crash. The noise didn’t travel, the high alley containing the impact.

  Sam was heartbroken for his brother and moved to console him. “It’s ok, mate. Dr Hargis is a strong lady. At least she’ll know now.”

  Emma frowned. “Wait, did you say, Hargis?”

  Winston nodded. “We came looking for the parents of our friend.”

  “I didn’t know their first names,” blurted Emma. “I always called them Mr and Mrs Hargis.”

  Braiden tensed and rushed towards the ladder.

  “Wait! They’re not in there at the moment. They went on a supply run two days ago.”

  The teenager turn
ed back to her, eyes frantic. “But they were here?”

  “Yeah,” she nodded enthusiastically.

  “Alive?”

  “Erm, yeah,” she replied with a little less vigour at the strange question.

  “Where did they go?” he demanded.

  “I’m not sure… I don’t get told these things.”

  Sam moved fast to interject. “Remember the deal. They’re probably safe out there.”

  “Oh, they’ll be fine. They’re two of the best runners we had. Sometimes they would be gone for days, but they always brought back a stack of goodies.”

  “We need to find them!” Braiden snapped.

  “No!” declared Sam. “We’ve done enough for now. We can give Christina hope. Right now, they’re the most important thing.” He pointed to the out of sight battleground raging on the estate.

  “But…”

  “No buts! Dr Hargis said they were survivors.”

  “If I could make it out here burgling snacks, they are,” said Winston. “And by the sounds of it, it isn’t the first time they’ve done it either.”

  “Not even the tenth,” Emma confirmed.

  “We’ll leave information somehow before we go. We’ll tell them where we are,” said Sam. Dragging Braiden into the next garden, they started to score a message onto the ply.

  “In the meantime, we’ve got a few party crashers,” Winston added.

  Turning to see the approaching zombies, Braiden withdrew his screwdriver and left the half carved instructions. “I’ve got these!”

  Winston raised an eyebrow and Sam shook his head. As the youth marched off, he whispered, “Sometimes he needs to let off some steam. He’ll be fine.”

  “Tara, I need you to look at me, honey,” Emma cooed, shielding her from the horror as Braiden begun slaying the creatures.

  Chapter 17

  “Hold here while Kurt and I check the farm shop,” ordered Holbeck.

  The soldiers jumped from the Warthogs and set up a perimeter, watching the sprawling fields. Small groups of the undead were traversing the farmland, but not in numbers that posed any threat. The explosion was sudden, the sound gone as soon as the shockwave dissipated. It wasn’t like their firefights, the protracted bedlam of combat. Most of the undead who weren’t already in the area lacked a focal point to head towards and had probably returned to their vacant wandering. Peter assured his colleagues they could handle them hand to hand to save ammunition.

  “After you, Kurt.”

  The two men moved between the houses. It was all new to the sergeant, but old hat to the plumber. Sights from weeks ago guided him the correct route without having to pause.

  “We’re nearly there,” whispered Kurt. “We just pass that promenade of shops and it’s down a side street.”

  “I don’t hear anyone,” replied Holbeck, pistol in hand.

  “Me either. Keep to the shadows anyway.”

  Holbeck nodded and Kurt hugged the glass frontages of the retailers. Ducking into the entrance alcoves, he waited after passing each one. The buildings were fully deserted now. Glittering on the floor across the road was the shattered glass from when Jonesy had taken the boys on their reconnaissance mission. Two other panes were smashed in a similar fashion, the festering occupant drawn out of their home in the recent past. It may have even been the explosion itself that caught their attention and pried them from undead self-isolation.

  “There,” whispered Kurt.

  “Hold here while I take a look,” replied Holbeck.

  Moving to the corner, he kept his pistol lowered. Snatching a quick glance around the edge of the brickwork, he visibly relaxed and waved Kurt over. “It’s all clear. Nobody there.”

  Remaining cautious, the pair ran down the short alley. Kurt could see the thick sheet of plywood was undisturbed. Pointing to his eyes, he then indicated the cover to the soldier.

  Kneeling at the edge, Holbeck carefully lowered his head. Placing an ear to the timber, he concentrated before shaking his head. Indicating Kurt should lift it, Holbeck aimed at the rim. Kurt took hold of the wood and mouthed; three, two, one, before yanking the covering. The tunnel was empty except for the aluminium stepladder. A faint groaning carried down the dank passage.

  “Undead,” Kurt whispered, dropping the ply.

  “Agreed. Let’s see if your friend left a message,” said Holbeck.

  Kurt moved towards the car Jodi had identified. The front door was open, just as they had left it. Opening the glove box, a small map was hidden beneath the car’s information pack and several discarded parking permits. Unfolding it, three tunnels were highlighted. On two the ink had faded slightly, while the third was a fresh red dot.

  “We’re there,” Kurt explained. “The next tunnel comes out to the east of the prison.”

  “Then let’s move.”

  Backtracking to the Warthogs, they found a scattering of fresh corpses around the vehicles. Louise was washing gore from her machete from a spare water bottle she had brought along.

  “No good?”

  “The dead are in the tunnel. We didn’t go down and see how many,” explained Kurt.

  “Ok, everyone mount up. We’re heading east.”

  The armoured monsters grumbled away, leaving the heartbroken dead to wail and gnash their teeth.

  “Which way should we approach?”

  Peter pointed towards a group of huge warehouses. “If we head through the industrial park, we come out facing the eastern edge of the prison.”

  “That steel fence looks pretty sturdy,” said Holbeck, doubtfully. If it was a Hollywood movie, Carpenter could charge straight at them and crash through. This was real life, and the likelihood was that one of the thick struts could damage the rubber caterpillar tracks or vital hydraulics beneath the cab itself.

  “There’s going to be a gate at the rear for emergency access. It’ll be right around the corner,” said Kurt.

  Winston had explained the area in great detail following his discovery of the damaged NHS supply building. Anything to curry favour with his new guardian. Kurt smiled at the thought of the awkward teenager and how well he had fit in to their disparate band of survivors. He would still give him a hard time to keep him on his toes, though. And the mother of all bollockings when they got back to the castle.

  “There it is, Sarge. Want me to ram it?” asked Carpenter.

  “Don’t do that,” warned Kurt. “It’s one of the solid gates with those latches that you pull across. You know, the really thick ones. Get close and I’ll shatter the padlock.”

  “I can pop off a couple of rounds,” offered Petermann from the turret.

  “And bring the whole horde down on our head? Think, Soldier.”

  “Sorry, Sarge. Just eager to get in the fight.”

  “Give it ten minutes and we’ll be up to our necks in the dead. There’s no rush, Corporal.”

  “Understood, Sarge.”

  Carpenter ground to a halt and Kurt hopped from the cab. Taking out the war pick, he aimed and struck at the heavy duty lock. Three blows and the internal mechanisms shattered, releasing the shackle. Tossing it away, he slid the central latch free. Reaching through the thick bars, he pulled the bolts from the ground and swung the huge gates wide open.

  “Follow it straight,” said Kurt as he climbed back aboard.

  “Want me to stop so we can close them?” asked Carpenter as she trundled through.

  Kurt shook his head. “No. They’ll give us some cover if we have to retreat in a hurry. We can shut them during the escape. It’d take a thousand zombies to force their way through those things.”

  “Good thinking,” complimented Holbeck.

  “Sometimes us civvies can be useful, Sergeant,” Kurt replied.

  “Sometimes,” he agreed. “Rarely.”

  “Hater,” Kurt fired back.

  “Holy shit…” muttered Carpenter as the towering steel siding of the warehouses disappeared. She slowed immediately, throwing Petermann painfully into the H
MG.

  Across the road, the field opened up. It was thick with the rotting denizens of the local villages. The imposing red brick wall of the prison looked like a giant had taken a bite from it. A twenty foot section was gone completely, with ragged, curved edges rising to the torn razor wire. One of the watch towers had taken a beating from the sundered masonry, listing dangerously on the three remaining legs. A grey tide surged through the opening, filling the prison.

  “Sarge, ten o’clock!” called Petermann.

  Glancing left, they saw what he’d found from his elevated vantage point. Undead were streaming onto the execution platform to the south, eager to get at the six men who fought desperately for survival.

  “Get Matt,” Holbeck said, voice hard. Climbing from the cab, he waited at the front with a set of binoculars. The time for fighting was coming. Fate was, even now, rolling the dice to see if they would succeed. The layout of the facility itself was enough of a nightmare. Getting inside, finding the civilians, and getting them out safely while fighting off thousands of decomposing cannibals added a whole new layer of trouble.

  “What’s up?” grumbled the burly Scot. “I thought we were getting stuck in.”

  “Not if I can get some more intel,” Holbeck replied, ignoring the man’s pain. “Who’re they?” Handing over the goggles, he pointed to the platform.

  Matt moved to get a better position and clear a tree from his view. Raising his arms, the crutches came with him, clattering against the blast shield. “They’re nobodies.”

  “No gang affiliation?”

  “This isn’t America, lad. We don’t have the Aryan Brotherhood and all that shite.”

  “Then they’re harmless?”

  “Hardly,” Matt replied, handing back the glasses. “They took part in the rapes, but they weren’t part of any wing bosses crew. As I said, nobodies. Scum.”

  “Thanks, that’s all I needed to know.”

  Gritting his teeth, Matt hopped back into the vehicle. Holbeck jumped back inside behind him and ordered Carpenter to proceed slowly.

  “Aye, Sarge.”

  “Ewington, I want you to stay close. We’re going to try and get them down and get any information we can.”