by Fleet, Ricky
“It seems we underestimated you again,” he said, kicking gently at Bert’s remains.
“You get your filthy foot off of him!” she screamed, wrestling free.
The men were as shocked as Fred at her strength. Wailing like a banshee, she charged. Three men stepped between Sarah and the target of her hatred, one of them rugby tackling her mid-flight. Twisting to the side, they slammed her onto the floor. Her fury was all consuming. Writhing beneath the weight, three full grown men, powerful in their own right, struggled to contain the hellcat.
“Calm down or I’ll kill your friends,” Fred warned.
One of his men levelled a rifle at the group of people she hadn’t noticed. Zack, Alina and the food collection team were bloodied and bruised, cowering in a corner. Trying to see if Clarissa and Holly were among them, her head was pressed hard into the floor. The thin rug did nothing to ease the compression, and she started to buck and kick again.
“Let her up,” said another Liverpudlian.
Twisting her head, the fabric abraded her skin and a few strands of hair tore free of the scalp. One glance told her all she needed to know. He looked too similar to the other man to be anything but a brother. His greying hair was untouched by chemical attempts to conceal the unrelenting ticking of the clock. Unlike Fred, he had few tattoos.
“She wants to kill me, George,” Fred chuckled.
“And I don’t blame her. You’ll have to forgive my brother, he’s the hot head. I wanted this to go as smoothly as possible.”
“My husband will be back soon. Then you’ll find out the true meaning of hot head,” Sarah snapped as she was hauled upright.
“You know as well as I do that when he sees a knife to your throat on top of the wall, he’ll do fuck all,” George replied, losing patience.
Sarah fell silent as the truth hit her.
“Now I want you to point out any other hiding places in this place. After that, we’re going to pay a visit to the tower so that we can bring the others down safely. We don’t want to hurt any of you.”
“Like I believe that. Is that what you told the people you raped inside the prison, you fucking animal?”
“We didn’t make the rules in there,” he replied. The cruel smirk and glint in his eye said that he hadn’t been averse to complying with the regulations, however. Purely to be a good inmate, of course.
“I won’t do anything you ask.”
“Kill one of them,” said George.
“Kill them all,” Sarah fired back defiantly. “Then rape and kill me. If you think I’d ever put those children in your hands, you’re stupider than you look. And your brother thinks that Grecian 2000 bottle is fooling people? What a wanker.”
Fred ran a hand self-consciously through the impossibly dark locks.
“I told you to leave it be,” George agreed.
“Fuck off. I look good.”
“Does he?” George asked Sarah.
She slowly shook her head, staring venom. “Like a toilet brush dipped in shit.”
“That’s mostly brown, but I get your point,” said George.
“What does she know? She’s just a gash.”
“Please, Fred. Let’s de-escalate the situation. I’m sure we can come to an understanding.”
“Let us go, and I’ll help you. The castle’s yours. I just want to get my people out of here.”
“We know it is. But why would we let the new meat go?” Fred asked. “Me and the boys need our entertainment.”
“Anyone who touches me will lose their tiny dick,” Sarah snapped.
“We’re keeping you safe from all the dead fucks outside. I think a little compensation is the least we can ask for.”
“Your compensation comes from having a fortress for a home. Let me and my people go, and we won’t retaliate.”
Fred roared with laughter. “Retaliate. Check out the balls on this gash.”
Sarah crossed her arms disdainfully, looking Fred up and down. “What did you do when the dead rose? You hid in your cell behind your walls, that’s what. When you were sticking your dick in the poor people who tried to shelter with you, we were fighting the undead across the south coast. We’ve killed thousands. Tens of thousands. And at the end of it all, we took this fucking castle bare handed. What have you done? Raped a few women. Real big men. Not even strong enough to take over from the Araters. Always scared. Always hiding.”
Fred’s face was bright scarlet, ready to blow. He took a step towards her, fists clenched. “I’m going to bash your fucking teeth out. Then I’m going to destroy every hole in that fine body. Then I might just kill you for the hell of it.”
“Go on then!” spat Sarah, matching him pace for pace. “But know this. Kurt and my friends will retake the castle, I guarantee it. You won’t know which direction they’ll come from. You won’t ever be able to sleep. Every moment you’ll be looking over your shoulder. They could be waiting around any corner. And when he gets you, I promise you’ll die slow and painfully. You’ll beg to be given to the zombies to eat. You think Craig had inventive ways to dispose of people? You haven’t seen anything yet.”
They were face to face. No one had ever spoken to him like that before. What made it worse, was that deep down her words chilled him to the marrow. He actually feared this woman and her threats. It was an unaccustomed feeling and he didn’t like it one bit. Fred drew back his arm, ready to pummel the pretty face. A heavy hand grasped his meaty fist, stilling the blow. Sarah didn’t even blink.
“That’s enough. Fred, take the others and lock our guests in one of the bedrooms. Then search this place from top to bottom.”
“What are you going to do?” Fred seethed.
“I’m going to have a little chat with…” George intoned the word, waiting.
“Sarah Taylor.”
“With Sarah here.”
“What about?”
“The arts. Politics. The existential dread that is the human condition.”
Fred turned to face his brother, still furious. “Don’t treat me like a mug. Don’t speak down to me.”
“We’re going to talk about the future, dear brother. Don’t be so emotional,” replied George, placating his younger sibling.
“She’s mine later,” Fred declared.
“Fine. Whatever,” said George dismissively.
Grunting, Fred gave Sarah one last glare, then sulked off. A couple of the other inmates smirked as he passed. George stared at them and their faces dropped.
“Come on! Fucking move!” Fred snapped, dragging Zack and the others away with more force than was necessary. They were already terrified.
“Now, where were we,” said George, smiling.
Chapter 36
Denise knew something was coming. Her hunch had been tingling for more than half an hour, and it never let her down. She watched the shadowy archway below, before turning her attention to the windows which were all now open.
“Clever, aren’t you?” she muttered.
The shooter needn’t have bothered. The shotgun was not a lethal threat at his range. If they had been slug shells it would’ve been a different story, but they weren’t. The buckshot might wound, or even take out an eye if Gloria was lucky. With only a few left, the shells were far more valuable as a close combat last resort. The empty Glock in her waistband might have been worth a damn if she had ammunition, but the magazines were empty. At best she could use it to pistol whip their enemies to death. The boxes of armaments in the castle were achingly close. They may as well have been on the moon.
“Do you see anything, dear?” asked Gloria.
“It’s all quiet. Too quiet.”
“Like the calm before the storm?”
“Exactly.”
“Do you really think they’ll try and get up here? Can they be that foolish?”
“They’ve got the others, and I’d imagine by now they’ve extracted information about our numbers. And ages,” Denise replied.
“I still feel quite sprig
htly, I’ll have you know.”
“I know that you are, but all they’ll know is there are a couple of… middle aged ladies, a bunch of school children and teenagers, and a few adults. And there are dozens of them. And they’re armed. I’d say it’s guaranteed.”
“What do you think our chances are?” asked Gloria. It was the first time in their time together that Denise had seen her shaken. The repeated glances down into the watch tower grounds and the gathered youngsters told her that it wasn’t her own safety she feared, but that of her children.
“Honestly? I don’t know.”
“That’s not exactly encouraging, dear,” chuckled Gloria, the laugh carrying a nervous edge.
Denise smiled at her, attempting to portray strength and self-belief that she wasn’t entirely convinced of. Their fates were a coin, mid toss. The tumbling quarter would land in their favour, or it wouldn’t. They had everything in their favour in terms of position. Nowhere in the castle or wider area could provide a fire position to suppress them provided they didn’t stand. The imposing fortress within a fortress was only accessible by a single steep, stone staircase. The oaken doors were inches thick, and well secured now that additional struts had been wedged in place. They had enough water to last forever. The meagre pile of wood was troubling, but she had already decided to move the brazier and fuel into one of the dungeon cells below. The warmth would be trapped, instead of dissipating immediately to the outside air. The walls themselves would absorb the radiant heat and give more thermal comfort. Those not on watch could shelter out of the cold.
The food, though…
Pea had found a secret stash squirreled away in between the stored equipment. Denise thanked the Lord for the selfish bastard who had stolen the goods, buying them at least a day before the stomach lining started to eat itself. She had no doubt it was one of Jasmine’s group, but all that was past them now. Tomorrow night, the last of the stale crackers and tinned peaches would be gone. The attack would come long before that, though. It had to. Both her tingling cop senses and the ticking clock of Kurt’s return would ensure it.
There! Movement in the archway. A shadow moving in shadows.
“It’s time,” said Denise.
Gloria took a steadying breath and changed position, ready to open fire if the need arose.
Denise waved down to the students. They came waddling in pairs, careful not to spill anything of the contents they were laden with.
Stephanie waited for them to return, before forming them into three rows with their chosen bow. Arrows sprouted from the mud at their feet.
Thank God for Kurt, thought Denise. His decision to harden the castle inhabitants might be what would save them. The faces below were fearful, but determined. Even the adults such as Freya and Nick who had initially failed during combat, were now ready. Anja stood beside Stephanie, a standard recurve bow in hand.
“You, in the tower!” called a rough, scouse voice.
“Hey, you, not in the tower!”
“You’re a funny gash, aren’t you? We’ll see who’s laughing when we’re alone later.”
Denise peered across to Gloria with a frown. “Gash?”
“I think he’s talking about the female anatomy, dear.”
“Ooh.” Denise replied.
“This is your last chance to give up, or we’re coming for you. I promise, you won’t like it if we have to force our way in.”
“If you hadn’t been so rude, I might’ve taken you up on the offer. As it stands, this gash says; Fuck you, pencil dick!”
“I was hoping you’d say that!” he shouted back.
Furtive movement could be seen just inside the archway. If her eyesight wasn’t failing, Denise estimated around two dozen people crowded in the passage. More would undoubtedly be just out of sight in the gloom. The question was, would their new friend launch everyone at the problem, or send waves?
A war cry from below carried out over Arundel and the surrounding countryside, the first in many centuries. Six men charged out wielding one of the many sturdy antique benches that lined the long corridors of the castle. Their mad flight came to a grinding halt when they reached the steps. Humping the awkward battering ram, they saved their breath for the laboured ascent. Twenty more followed, holding up shields made from broken doors, tables, anything that provided cover from the feared buckshot. Their pace was dictated by the men with the bench, and by the tenth step they were all shouting complaints about how they were exposed.
“You fucking carry it then!” snapped one of the men.
“Just move for fuck’s sake. I don’t want to get shot!”
“It’s alright for you fuckers! You’ve got protection!”
“We’ll be under that roof soon. Stop fucking whining!”
Gloria whispered over to Denise. “Shall I let them have it?”
“No, stay down, sweetheart.” Even if Gloria raised the gun and fired without exposing herself, the kick would likely break her fingers.
Listening to the bickering coming from outside, Denise’s fear scaled back a notch. They were still in danger, of that there was no doubt, but the enemy was fractured, undisciplined. With each unhindered step, their confidence grew and the squabbling ceased. They felt they were invincible, infallible, guaranteed victory based on the fact they were men. Men going up against women and a few kids. She had seen it all before. The arrogance of a perp when confronted by a female officer. Quickly turning to humiliation when she would take them down and cuff them. It was a strong card, as long as she played it right.
“Now, dear? They’re getting rather close.”
“Save the shells for if they breach the gate.”
“Will do,” said Gloria merrily.
“How’s it going fellas? You sound a bit tired,” Denise teased.
“Fuck you, cunt!”
“Cunt. Gash? What is it with you boys? I need to have stern words with your mothers about how to speak to ladies.”
“Keep on chatting shit,” huffed the lead man. “You won’t be laughing when Fred and George get their hands on you.”
“So you are just little boys doing as the big boys say. Good to know. And where, by chance is Mr Fred or Mr George?”
“Shut your mouth!” barked the man.
“So they’re hiding below?” she shouted loud enough to be heard at the archway. “I figured them for cowards. I shit better men than them.”
“I’ll show you a fucking coward!” roared Fred, leaving the safety of the passage.
Like a bull out of a gate, he charged up after his men. For the first fifteen steps.
“Bit out of shape there, honey?” Denise mocked as she listened to the footfalls slow and the breathing intensify.
“Dead… You’re dead…” he gasped.
“By the sounds of it, you’ll be having a cardiac arrest before you get through to us.”
“Fucking… gash…”
“Might I suggest quitting smoking and some light jogging?”
“Cunt…” he wheezed.
“Is that such a wise idea? I mean, if they get through?” whispered Gloria.
“I want them mad. I want them not thinking straight,” Denise replied.
“I trust you, dear.”
“Thank you. Can you imagine where we would be if you and your family hadn’t turned up?” Denise said, bringing up a subject she thought long overdue.
“You’d all be fine. You and your wonderful friend, Patricia, would’ve taken charge at some point.”
“I’m not so sure,” Denise replied, ignoring the growing clamour from below. She had to say her piece. “We were only two. Louise and some of the others might have joined us, but what good would it have done? We were trapped and unarmed. If Fred and George had found us like that, we’d already be dead. Or worse. You amazing folks saved our lives then, and you’re doing it again now, and I love you for it.”
“You’re too kind, dear. You forget that it was you that saved our lives on that dark day.”
Denise reached out a hand and took Gloria’s. “I guess God had a plan for us, after all.”
“If we survive the next hour, I might give Him another chance.”
“Let’s pray that we do then.”
The source of the voices moved directly below their position beneath the gatehouse. Denise nodded to Gloria. “Here we go.”
A cry of heave preceded the first heavy clash of wood on wood. The deafening impact was swiftly followed by cries of pain and another crash as the bench was hastily dropped.
“Careful of the vibrations, lads,” laughed Denise.
“Shut up, you whore!” roared Fred. “Pick it up, you fucking muppets!”
“A good manager knows how to treat their workers!” called Gloria.
The two ladies could hear the growing agitation amongst the prisoners. A few thwacks of fist on flesh carried up through the portcullis slot. The gates rang with another heavy thud of contact, and this time they didn’t drop the ram. Again they struck.
“Ready?” asked Gloria.
“Ready.”
Denise stayed in a kneeling position to avoid any gunfire as she moved into position. Gloria placed the shotgun down and did the same. Eight metal pails of near boiling water steamed in the frosty air, the liquid drawn from the ancient tower well and heated by the braziers. The ice crystals formed on the moist stone had receded from the ambient warmth of the liquid in the containers. Denise had a moment of doubt at what they were going to do.
“I want those kids!” Fred leered to his men. “I bet the girls are ripe.”
Fearing the shotgun, the men were all crowded in the alcove before the gate. It made swinging at the door difficult, but at least they were covered. If anyone had looked up, they would have seen the four chutes that terminated directly over their heads. They also might have questioned why the tower needed so many gutters and why they would be designed to saturate anyone coming or going during heavy rainfall. They didn’t look up, and therefore had no idea of their true purpose.
“Now!” whispered Denise, all doubt erased by the vile grunts of the excited men at the thought of tender, young meat.
Pushing the buckets over with the aid of a cloth wrapped hand, the metal clanked against the stone. Water poured into the funnels that once would have carried red hot sand. The effect was the same. Boiling liquid erupted from the murder holes, soaking the first two rows of sheltering men. Denise heard the splash and the sharp intake of breath as a million nerve endings were seared. The screams that tore through the afternoon were barely human. If the lives of the children hadn’t been on the line, she might not have carried out the next step.