Hellspawn (Book 7): Hellspawn Aftermath

by Fleet, Ricky

  “Just like the films,” confirmed Ian. He wasn’t a massive movie buff either, but he scanned his memory for the pertinent details. “Kill the brain. Don’t get bitten. Find somewhere to hole up.”

  “Kill the brain. Don’t get bitten. Hide,” Jasper repeated.

  One of the four doors in the room was heavily charred, the grains of the wood issuing a fine stream of smoke from the fires raging in the adjoining room. The dining room would soon be an inferno.

  “We’ve got to be quick.”

  “I don’t know where they might’ve gone,” said Jasper, coughing into his sleeve.

  “We go where the fire isn’t, it’s all we can do, dude,” replied Ian, ducking low and heading for the only exit that wasn’t about to explode.

  Pushing through, the lobby was filled with smoke which poured through the tall front doors. Being a vast, open space, the fire was struggling to gain a foothold. The ceiling high above was a different matter. Patches of the burning lathe and plaster were breaking away and hitting the marble floor, sending embers flying in all directions. As they looked through the thick smog at the upper landing, the fire moved with purpose, bubbling the years of stain before igniting the flammable coating in an unending chain that quickly consumed the whole area.

  “Fuck!”

  Anyone upstairs was now cut off. They would have to try and find another way down.

  “Which way?” asked Jasper, taking deep breaths of the mildly fresher air. The height of the doorframe worked in their favour, expelling most of the smoke before it could settle lower.

  “East wing! It’s the only part that’s not on fire yet!”

  “Ian?” came a cry from outside.

  “Norm?” he yelled back.

  “We’re out here!” Norman shouted.

  Appearing at the open doorway, Melv was by his side, covered in blood and grime.

  “Is anyone else inside?”

  “No, we got them all out.”

  “Good man! Jas, go!”

  Ian glanced up just in time, and pushed Jas forward as a huge chunk of the weakened ceiling collapsed. Leaping back using the force of the thrust, Ian cleared the danger zone. The debris burst from the thick black cloud like a meteor, catching Jasper on the outstretched leg. A split second’s hesitation on Ian’s part would have seen them both crushed.

  “Son of a tinker!” Jas yelled, dragging himself away from the blazing wreckage, still clutching the axe.

  Ian took him by the unladen arm and pulled him across the glossy floor. Already stick thin, the years of polish eased the man’s passage so that Ian hardly had to struggle at all.

  Another blazing object fell from above, this time hitting the marble with a wet squelch. Two more followed, landing in a blazing heap. Before Ian wrestled Jasper through the door, the objects started to move. Through the flames, white eyes stared as they blackened.

  “Holy moly!” Jas blurted through the pain.

  “Is it broken?” Norm asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ian replied. Kneeling by his friend, he said, “Jas, I’m just going to take a look, dude. If it’s broken, we’ll need to splint it before we move or the bone could sever an artery.”

  Rolling up the trouser leg, the calf muscle was raw, bloodied, and already going purple.

  “I think it just clipped your muscle as it fell. Look at the scuff down the skin.”

  The others looked at the wound.

  “If you say so, Ian. What now?” asked Norm. He was as wide as Jas was thin, with a cheerful disposition. Normally. Today his heavy jowls and overhanging belly were covered in unmentionable filth.

  “Were either of you bitten?” Ian demanded, pulling Jasper away from them.

  “No. This is from… other people,” replied Norm, tugging at the too tight t-shirt with the wet stains.

  “Ok, good. We need to get round the back and get the ride-ons. I’ll need you to pull the Rover out of the mud and I’ll follow you back to the lockup.”

  “Ian,” said Norm, grabbing him by the arm, “I… I don’t want to go back round there.”

  Melv stared silently, but his face told the same story.

  “Ok, we leave them, but we need some sort of plan.”

  “A plan for what?”

  Ian handed both axes over to Norm and Melv, before helping Jasper to stand and looping an arm around his midsection.

  “A plan for this,” he motioned with his head at the carnage all around them.

  They moved away from the house as quickly as possible. More windows exploded as the fire spread, sending waves of intense heat out after them as if the inferno was furious to lose its prize.

  “What’s this?” pushed Norm.

  “You’re really going to make me say it?”

  Melv nodded. Norm waited.

  “Fuck! It’s some sort of zombie fucking apocalypse! Are you happy?”

  Melv snorted derisively until a sight to their rear caused him to let out a cry of fear. The human candles had grown in number to seven. Moving sluggishly as their juices burned, they couldn’t see, but still made directly for the forestry workers.

  “Fuck this shit,” Ian moaned, carrying Jasper for the most part.

  Melv hurried behind them, pulling on Norman as if to ask; Is he for real?

  “You saw the same as I did, mate,” Norman confirmed to his mute friend. “Burning people don’t generally walk around like that.” He pointed at the figures who were starting to collapse from the intolerable damage.

  Melv gave them the finger.

  “Yeah, dude. Fuck ‘em,” said Ian.

  They staggered across the wet meadow, slipping and sliding onto their rumps more than once.

  “I’ll need you both to give me a nudge,” said Ian as he drew near the trapped vehicle.

  Helping Jasper aboard the Land Rover, Ian gently lifted the damaged leg and lowered it in the footwell. Norman and Melv moved around the back, ready to push. Ian reached the driver’s door, jumped in, and started the engine in one motion.

  “Ok, now!” called Ian, gently pressing the accelerator.

  The tyres chewed into the slop, going nowhere.

  “Fucking fuckers!” he yelled, spying the staggering creatures that were moving in their direction. They would never get Jasper to safety on foot. “Again!”

  Norm and Melv grunted with exertion, their feet sinking into the quagmire. The tyres spun uselessly, spraying them with mud. They were completely bogged in.

  “I’m going to skull fuck this fucking rain!” Ian roared, trying to think of a way to get free. If they had time, they could gather some scrub and branches and pack the tyres to give traction. The nearest zombie would be on them in less than two minutes.

  “What now?” gasped Norman, wiping sweat and rain from his round face.

  “We’re going to have to run,” replied Ian.

  Norm scowled as if to say he’d rather take his chances with the undead. Melv pointed frantically as three cars burst through the low hedge lining the driveway. Racing across the pristine lawn, they didn’t have a destination in mind, but upon seeing the workers, spun in their direction. Skidding to a halt, a terrified woman in the lead car tried to soothe the screaming children as she wound down the window.

  “Is there another way out of here? The road is filled with those… things.”

  “There’s a rear entrance but the gate will be locked. I can show you a path in the forest if you wouldn’t mind giving us a nudge?”

  The woman looked at the approaching ghouls, then at her gleaming BMW, then back at the creatures. Giving him a nod, she showed great awareness and gently coaxed the vehicle around in a wide circle to the rear of the Land Rover. Ian got Norm and Melv safely aboard before jumping in. Opening his own window, he waved the lady forward. Using the camber of the field, she barely accelerated at all. The resounding crunch of bumper against the towing eye sounded as if she hit the rear end at thirty.

  “Great! Follow me!” he called as the impact pushed the vehicle c
lear of the sodden trap.

  The two other cars pulled in behind them, trusting that they knew a route to safety. As Ian watched in horror, the entire roof of the west wing collapsed into the blazing ruins. It wouldn’t be long before the rest joined it. Centuries of history, gone in less than an hour.

  The four workers stared through the windshield numbly. Their entire view of what was normal had crumbled as surely as the stately home that spewed clouds of dark smoke into the rainswept sky. Ian nearly forgot about his entourage and their own journey. Skidding to a halt at the muddy intersection, he jumped from the vehicle and hurried to the BMWs open window.

  “If you follow that for about half a mile, you’ll come to a wooden gate. It’ll be locked, I’m afraid.”

  “She’s already taken a good knock,” she replied, rubbing the dash fondly. “What’s a bit more paint on a respray?”

  “Take the lanes slowly, they’re not designed for high end motors like that. If you find yourself stuck, or the road is too dangerous, we’ve got a compound about a mile that way.” Ian pointed forward. “Once you get to the end of this track, it veers off but you’ll be able to see the roof.”

  The woman reached out a hand. “Thanks…”

  Ian took it and gave it a firm shake. It was trembling. “Ian.”

  “I’m Anna.”

  “Take care, Anna. And remember my offer. This thing is going to get much worse.”

  “I need to get back to my family,” she said apologetically.

  Behind her eyes was an acceptance that her mission was doomed to failure. She gave him a final, lingering smile, then closed the window. Ian stepped back into the brush, and she led the other two cars around the bend. Faces peered out at him like wraiths as they passed, the flowing water giving their features a nebulous quality.

  Ian watched them until they disappeared from view. By the time he sat back in the Land Rover, the rain had even crept into the crack of his arse.

  “What now?” asked Norm.

  “We need to think about getting your families,” he replied.

  Sitting in the track with the engine idling, he looked in the mirror at his friends. They had the same look as the woman. The previously ignored radio broke through their frenzied thoughts.

  “The World Health Organisation has declared a worldwide pandemic of unknown origin. At this time they can’t state the source of the unknown disease, or if the pathogen that causes the aberrant behaviour is airborne. The order to remain indoors has just been confirmed by the Prime Minister declaring martial law. The army has set up evacuation stations outside key cities. They will be sending in search and rescue missions to find you, so stay inside, and stay safe. More news will follow when the Prime Minister addresses the nation in twenty minutes.”

  “Well fuck me,” Ian gasped.

  “Crikey,” muttered Jasper.

  “My kids,” Norm groaned.

  Melv gave the radio the middle finger.

  **********

  “Christ, it sounds like you had a hard time of it too,” said Irish.

  “That was just the beginning, dude. We’re nearly there. Just around this copse.”

  As the camp came into view, the survivors gasped in awe at the sight.

  “Whoa,” exclaimed Tara in his arms, fresh from her sleep.

  “You ain’t seen nothing yet, kiddo,” Ian winked.

  Chapter 31

  Stephanie removed her glasses and stifled a yawn. The lesson plans on the desk were boring, but necessary. The castle contained a veritable bounty of books and encyclopaedia that shamed her state comprehensive. First editions of the Encyclopaedia Britannica. The classic works of Dickens in leather bound hardback. Even an original Shakespeare. Macbeth, no less, locked in a safe that Alina had opened. The education of the children would be world class, she would ensure it. Gone would be the enforced whims of the government of the day. Useless, politically driven criteria that added nothing to their life skills, only serving as indoctrination of the current fad.

  In the apocalypse, could studying the old words of long dead scholars keep the zombies at bay? Not likely. But once the zombies returned to the earth, her charges would have a love and appreciation for everything beautiful, whether it be exquisite prose penned by quill, or the artwork that lined every wall inside the castle. By throwing herself into the work, she was able to ignore some of the awful grief that plagued her dreams. In the waking world, planning, structuring, and delivering the lessons kept the ghosts at bay. Once her eyes closed, the faces of her husband and children called to her. It was the same, night after night. They would scream and plead without making a sound. Their skin would pale, their eyes glazing with the milky hue of the undead. Then their flesh would slough, peeling away and melting as decomposition stole their innocence. The shrieking skulls would crumble, the dust blowing away on the wind.

  “That’s quite enough of that,” she said, standing abruptly.

  Striding from the room, Stephanie closed the door with a bit too much force and the boom echoed away down the cold passages of the castle keep.

  “Are you ok, Miss Lunsford?” asked Toby.

  She smiled warmly and ignored the question, moving like quicksilver, left, then right, trying to escape the memories. The loss of her family had been crippling in the early days. Stephanie wasn’t ashamed to admit that she had climbed between the crenulations of the tallest watchtower on three occasions. Each time she had stood tall on the lower embrasure, refusing to hold onto the merlons for support. The wind had been like a living beast, caressing her, knowing her. Begging the unseen Gods for release; Amun, Fūjin, Vayu, whichever deity would answer, she had waited for their gentle kiss to push her from the edge. Instead, a gust out of nowhere sent her reeling back into the tower. Following the third failure on the third night, Stephanie had lain on the frigid stone, promising herself she would go on. Staring up at the star kissed sky, an avowed atheist became a true believer. It comforted her to think of her children, Sebastian and Mia, driving the wind under the watchful eye of Anthony, her husband. Their spirits comforting her always. Except in her dreams.

  “Are you ok, dear?” gasped Gloria as she came close to being knocked flat.

  “I’m sorry. I’m fine. I just need some air,” Stephanie babbled, hurrying away.

  The matronly elder had been a rock since her arrival, even though her own faith was wavering. She never turned the younger teacher away when she sought solace. Deep down, Stephanie felt her instincts about her saviours were in some way comforting to Gloria. She would smile wistfully, stealing glances at the cross when she thought Stephanie was lost in prayer.

  Emerging into the daylight from the keep, the courtyard was alive with activity. The children were running back and forth with wheelbarrows full of ammunition. A dozen greetings were dismissed with a smile and a wave. Feeling guilty that she wasn’t helping, Stephanie moved away from the human chain. Moving below the bailey gate, she found most of the others gathered on a portion of wall overlooking the south east. News of the prison attack had reached her, but she wasn’t in the mood for idle gossip and fearmongering. A calming walk along the wall, enjoying the sights of Arundel town and the surrounding countryside would be enough.

  Spying the foam archery targets, she had a change of heart. Sending a couple of dozen arrows downrange might help to soothe her mood better than a solitary activity that left more than ample time to dwell on the past. The trestle table was topped with a selection of the finest weapons brought back from the local archery store. A sleek black recurve bow called out to her. Typically a compound type of girl, the Tongtu bow just had… something. That je ne sais quoi. The contours of the grip seemed to be moulded perfectly for her hand. The draw, although heavier, was getting easier by the day.

  Taking a fresh target which, ironically, was of a zombie, she moved to the foam pads and carefully removed the previous card. Pinning hers in place, she moved back thirty yards to the table and slipped on the brown glove. The new leather was stil
l being broken in, but it protected her fingers far better than the cheaper tabs. Artemis, goddess of the hunt, she’d named the bow. But only to herself. The others might have made fun of her if they’d known.

  Taking the weapon and a selection of thirty inch arrows, she moved into position. Laying the projectile on the rest, she got into firing stance and took a split finger grip on the string. Three under had never felt comfortable to her, no matter how hard she tried. Her accuracy didn’t seem to suffer either, so she left it alone.

  Drawing back her arm, she looked down the shaft and released in one smooth motion. The string snapped taut, and the arrow sailed downrange, piercing the green throat of the cardboard monster.

  “No good.”

  Taking another arrow, this one hit the creature in the nose.

  “For goodness sake.”

  On the next attempt, Stephanie pulled the string further to give it a little more oomph. The arrow struck in the bullseye, dead centre of the rotting forehead.

  “Better.”

  She put four more into the small ring, before moving back five yards and doing the same. By the sixteenth shot her arms and hands were aching and the painful memory had been put back in the box, ready to be brought out when her conscious defences failed through slumber.

  Returning the bow and glove, Stephanie moved towards the steps of the Bevis Tower. The walk around the wall would now be enjoyable, of that she was certain. Interlocking her fingers, she bent them over and stretched out the aching tendons. Repetition was reducing the pain, but the task was strenuous by its very nature. Still, she had to be prepared to fight.

  Peering over the wall, the emptied moat was a sea of green instead of blue. Reading one of the castle journals, the source, Swanbourne Lake, had been sealed off hundreds of years ago. Given the opportunity, it could prove useful to reinstate the ancient protection. Especially considering the undead had some inexplicable fear of the water. Pausing by a dying brazier, Stephanie added a few logs and stoked the embers. The radiating heat was a welcome change from the winter’s chill. In the distance, she could hear the faint patter of automatic weapons. Praying for their safe return, she resumed her journey. Coming to the next brazier, she frowned and added more fuel. She wasn’t one for telling tales normally, but the dereliction of guard duty through the excitement would need addressing. They could be attacked and no one would know.