From Despair to Where

by Oliver Smith

  “Come on, let’s head back.”

  -

  Beth, Magda, and Chloe were all perched silently around the bed Lucy lay on, peering at her as she slept. Scott appeared at the door and knocked gently to try and avoid frightening the women. He failed, the three of them jumped in unison, with Beth raising her rifle instinctively.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you, Jack sent me to stand watch, how is she?” Scott asked as he walked in the room and rested his shotgun against the wall, grateful to be relieved of its weight.

  “She’s okay, I’m a little worried about this fever though, she’s burning up.” Beth responded.

  Scott didn’t say anything, he just looked on. He was a man of few words, but a man with enormous emotions flowing under the skin.

  “Look Scott, you don’t need to stand guard.” Beth lifted her rifle to indicate her meaning, “Can you find the doctor and bring him here? I want to get this fever under control.”

  Neither Scott nor Beth knew about Ed’s grisly demise. Scott stood silent for a moment and looked at Lucy once again, “Okay, I won’t be long.”

  He left to go find the Doctor.

  Magda turned to Chloe, “You must be hungry dear, I know I could do with some breakfast. I’ll get us something to eat and then I must get back home to let the girls out of the attic, assuming it’s safe.”

  The sun had risen a couple of hours earlier as the fighting continued, gunfire becoming more infrequent as the living quelled the onrushing numbers of dead.

  Chloe didn’t answer, but Magda wasn’t offering her a choice. The old lady stood up slowly, patting the girl gently and made her way downstairs to see what she could rustle up for breakfast.

  -

  Scott bound purposefully through the village, fleetingly evading skirmishes with the remaining dead. He moved stealthily across gardens and came to the rear of the Doctor’s house. He peered through the windows but couldn’t see Ed. He’ll be out helping people.

  He walked around the side of the picturesque York stone house towards the front and saw the street in the morning light for the first time since the horde descended. There were bodies everywhere, several were writhing and reaching, still fully focused on their need for flesh. There was no immediate danger as he could see groups of his people, both the army and community members, taking their time to destroy the brains of the still animated creatures.

  Scott stood and watched. It was all too much to take. Six months ago, there wouldn’t have been a soul in the street, they’d have been busy with their daily routines. Now looking out at the blood bath, he couldn’t tell who the bodies were, were they part of the horde or were they people who had become his friends, who had become his family. A thought struck him, they were all people once, they were all previously loved.

  He turned his head to look away from the scene and focused on the front of Ed’s house. He knew immediately that Ed was dead.

  He peered at the body, it wasn’t recognisable, the Doctor’s flesh had been eaten from his face, his clothes torn from his torso leaving the hungry dead with soft fleshy organs to devour and devour they did. They had chomped and shredded everything down to the spine. A stranger would not have been able to identify the body, but Scott knew it was Ed. Scott knew because of the shoes. Bright red moccasins.

  “You didn’t deserve this Doc.” Scott said to himself.

  A solitary tear ran down his cheek and found refuge in his beard. He turned immediately and ran back to Beth and James’ house.

  -

  Magda was looking in cupboards for food. She found a couple of tins of soup and put them on the kitchen worksurface as an option for breakfast. She felt the women needed something more substantial. The soup would be perfect for Lucy, who needed to keep up her strength and Magda planned to force her to eat at least half a can.

  Moving around the kitchen, she admired the homely nature of it whilst making her way to the pantry. Reaching for the door handle, she stopped, something caught her eye. A bottle of brandy. Still badly shaken up from her narrow escape, a little drink was needed to steady her nerves. She picked up the bottle and placed it next to the soup, found a glass and poured herself a large one. She smelt it and took a generous sip. The warm aromas whirled around her mouth, she found the familiar strength from the burning within, upon swallowing the amber liquid, a simple pleasure of the old world.

  Taking her glass with her, Magda went back to the pantry and opened the door. It was dark inside and she stepped into the shadow, holding the door with her spare hand to illuminate the shelves.

  Magda felt a breath on her neck, spinning around and letting go of the door, it closed gently extinguishing the light behind. Her eyes didn’t adjust, unable to see anything, with a meek voice she asked, “Who are you?”

  Richie, who had been waiting in the darkness, could see clearly, his eyes adjusted to the dark and aided by the small crack of light coming in from the pantry door. He reached out and put his calloused hand tightly around Magda’s neck and squeezed.

  Magda tried to scream out to warn the others, but couldn’t raise her decibel level with her throat squeezed shut. She swung her hand and smashed the glass of brandy into the side of Richie’s head. The fine glass shattered loudly, cutting Richie’s cheek and forehead, he loosened his grip and stumbled backwards as the alcohol burnt the fresh cuts.

  Magda sensed her opportunity to escape, she wriggled free of his grasp and reached for the door. Richie recovered and pulled her arm and swung the frail old lady around as if she were a ragdoll. Once again, Richie placed his hand around her throat and let out a guttural noise. He flung Magda to the back of the pantry, still holding her, he smashed her against the far wall. Lifting her up, he took his hunting knife and, with a frenzy of anger, stabbed once, twice, three times and continued until the wound was just a gaping mess, entrails sagging and sticking to his arm as he calmed and slowed his motions.

  Magda was dead, she died mercifully before ever being stabbed, her heart stopped in the moments before Richie began his brutal and gruesome assault.

  He let go of her limp body and she fell to the floor, just a pile of skin and bones.

  -

  “Did you hear that?” Beth whispered to Chloe and Lucy, who was sitting up in bed sipping on water having woken.

  The little girl shook her head, but Lucy said hoarsely, “I heard a smash.”

  “You two wait here, I’m going to see what’s going on.” Beth said leaving the room before any protests could reach her. She shut the door behind her and lightly tip-toed her way across the hall and down the stairs trying to make as little noise as possible.

  Sneaking around in your own home had its advantages, Beth missed the third step on her descent of the staircase, avoiding the loud creak. She peeked around the wall, down the hall to the kitchen and saw nothing. She wanted to call out to Magda, but something in her bones made her remain silent. Staying still, viewing a small snapshot of the kitchen that the open door allowed, Beth held her breath and listened. There was a flicker of light followed by a noise and then, she saw him. He had blood all over him, his hands, his clothes, even his face, blood flowed from open wounds across his cheeks and forehead.

  Beth lifted her rifle and took aim, but it was too late, Richie moved from view. She crept down the hallway, getting closer to the kitchen, looking down the gun sites as she inched her way forwards. Reaching the open door, she put her hand on the handle and breathed a shallow breath, with a quick survey of the room, something caught her eye. On the oven door, she could see a reflection, a reflection of a man crouched in a shooting position aiming directly at the doorway. Beth froze. Instinct kicked in, she let go of the handle and inched away carefully.

  Reaching the staircase, Beth panicked and ran up the stairs forgetting about the squeaky step. Richie heard it from the kitchen and smiled to himself. The chase was on and he was enjoying it.

  Beth rushed into the bedroom and closed the door, leaning her back on it as she faced Lucy an
d Chloe. She breathed heavily as the exertion had taken its toll in her pregnant state. Catching her breath, she said, “Chloe, can you please get under the bed.”

  Turning to face Lucy, she said in an urgent whisper, “He’s in the house!”

  Lucy sat up, grimacing with pain as she moved, “Come on, move the wardrobe in front of the door.”

  -

  Scott got back to the house quickly as he ran from the scenes of terror, he saw Richie through the window. He was covered in blood and looked to be aiming his gun. Scott cursed at himself, he’d left his shotgun upstairs in the bedroom in his haste to locate the Doctor. He did have a small axe that had done him proud in the past few months and in particular, hours. Unhooking the axe from his belt, he crept under the kitchen window and around the side of the house. He found that the doors leading into the living room were open, so he crept in. He heard someone run upstairs. He walked out into the hall and waited around the corner next to the staircase, down the hall from the kitchen. Scott waited and listened. Before long he heard someone slowly walking down the corridor. He waited with his axe lifted, his back against the wall as the sound of footsteps approached, Scott was going to pounce on the intruder and stop the madness.

  Richie took a couple of steps on the stairs at once and began his ascent to exact his murderous intentions. Scott leapt from around the corner, mustering all his might to close the gap between himself and the invader with as much swiftness as possible. Scott misjudged the distance, he’d planned to swoop in one motion, but had to turn a corner, find his target and then leap; Richie had time to react to Scott’s ambush, pushing Scott in the chest, forcing him backwards with the butt of his rifle. With a wild swing of his axe, Scott missed Richie and was propelled backwards losing his footing on the steps.

  The initial shock of the ambuscade slowed Richie down as his brain caught up with his instincts, he raised his gun and took aim at Scott. His delay gave Scott the opportunity to pounce once more, grabbing the barrel with both hands, pushing it away as the gun went off with a mighty roar, sending the bullet sailing harmlessly into the wall behind Scott. The bang left the two men in a stilted silence until Richie headbutted Scott flush on the bridge of his nose, it cracked and blood poured immediately as he fell backwards bringing Richie with him as they both clung to the rifle.

  -

  Jack and James were running back to the house when they heard the gun shot. They exchanged a look of terror and sprinted with lung busting effort to close the seemingly endless distance between themselves and their loved ones. With the house a stone’s throw away, they turned one final corner to run straight into the path of three of the dead, who had been lured from their hiding places by the gunfire. James ran straight into the creatures, having no time to react to their sudden appearance, hands grasped at him and he stumbled and fell trying to evade their determined hunger.

  “Go, GO! Get to the house, I’ll be fine.” James shouted as he scrambled in the dusty path trying to get some footing to spring an attack on the dead.

  Jack didn’t hesitate, he knew his friend was tough so carried on running with all the energy he could muster when he heard another crack of gunfire. Skidding through the gate into the back garden, Jack barged into the kitchen and saw with horror the crumpled body of Magda in the Pantry. He was too late.

  Checking the shotgun was loaded, Jack walked through the kitchen door and into the corridor that led to the stairs. That’s when he saw the body, tiptoeing closer he gasped in horror. Laying lifeless on the floor was Scott, his face was a mess, his jaw facing the wrong direction. He’d been bludgeoned to death and lay in a pool of blood. Jack’s stomach turned and could feel tears welling up in his eyes as he looked down on one of his oldest friends, he felt an abyss of despair. Scott was a good man, a solid man, principled and caring. The anger started to rise in his body, he clenched his jaw together wanting murder.

  Chapter 51 - The Final Act

  Scott had fallen backwards and taken Richie with him, but the advantage didn’t fall with him. Richie landed on top of him, Scott’s eyes blurred from the tears that had swilled his eyes with the broken nose he’d suffered from Richie’s headbutt. Richie straddled Scott and began pummelling him with both fists, Scott was unconscious after a few blows, not content, Richie picked up a heavy ornament and crushed Scott’s bruised face into a shattered mess of bones and skin, his features sagged without the natural support of his facial structure.

  With the frenzy over and his heart thumping, Richie stood, stooped to pick up his gun and ascended the stairs, eager to finish what he started months ago. Leaping up the stairs with zest, he turned right and saw the closed door and immediately knew that behind the wood was his prize, his reason for traipsing across the dead wilderness, Lucy.

  Richie approached the closed door quietly and listened. He couldn’t hear anything. He had no choice, he was going in, but he wasn’t prepared to rush. He’d come this far; his plan was faultless, and he was near the end. With his back to the wall, he reached for the door handle, turned it, and gave the door a shove, it creaked open.

  Inside, Beth crouched behind a chest of drawers with her rifle trained on the door, Lucy sat on the floor beside Beth, she had no weapon and was in no physical condition to fight. She could only rely on her friend to fight for her. Lucy looked under the bed and could see Chloe laying in the foetal position under some blankets against the wall, she was hidden from the door by a wardrobe that Beth and Lucy had pushed across the room, unable to move it as far as the door, but far enough to give the girl cover should a fight unfold. Lucy knew that a fight was indeed about to unfold, she looked up at Beth and could see her tighten her grip on the rifle as the door noisily swung open.

  The tension in the bedroom was palpable, Beth saw Richie poke his head from the other side of the wall to get a look at what lay in wait for him. Instinctively she fired the rifle. Richie’s head moved back behind the safety of the wall before Beth’s finger could press the trigger and the bullet flew through the empty door frame, lodging itself somewhere in the hallway.

  Sensing opportunity, Richie, with incredible speed, scrambled into the room and slid himself in front of the chest of drawers that Beth and Lucy hid behind.

  Beth watched with baited breath as she saw Richie burst into the room in a low crouch, the terror showed in her eyes as he disappeared behind the drawers, he was right in front of her, but she couldn’t see him, only a few pieces of wood separated the women from the heinous man. She fumbled with the gun and loaded a bullet into the chamber and leaned over the drawers to fire.

  Richie looked up and saw the barrel of Beth’s rifle appear, he let go of his own gun, reached up and grabbed the barrel with both hands, using his feet for grip, he swung the gun and Beth to the left. The gun fired, the bullet again planting itself harmlessly into a wall. Beth fell from behind the drawers heavily on her side, she looked up and saw Richie holding the gun backwards by the barrel. She didn’t try to move, instead curled herself into a ball and resigned herself to her helplessness.

  Richie turned the gun around and aimed it at Beth. Lucy struggled to her feet and shouted, “STOP! It’s me you want. Leave her alone, she’s pregnant.”

  He stopped, turned, and grinned at Lucy. His face repulsed her, and she involuntarily stepped backwards. He approached her with his gun trained on her head, still grinning maniacally, when the sound of rushing footsteps coming up the stairs made them all stop and turn. Jack appeared, looking crazed with his shotgun ready, but Richie was one step ahead and turned his entire body and fired. Jack continued to move forward, but with each step he stumbled forwards, until he stopped, dropped the shotgun and fell to his knees, he put his hand on his stomach and then raised it to see it soaked in claret red. The colour from his face left instantaneously as he struggled for breath.

  Richie walked over to Jack and kicked the gun away and pushed Jack onto his back with his foot.

  “Jack. Don’t. Please-” Lucy was incoherent as Richie again turned
around to face Lucy, once again with his gun trained on her.

  “Why?” Lucy asked.

  “You should have kept your mouth shut all those months ago. You people, you good people. What have you ever done for me other than let me rot? You shouldn’t be allowed to say things about me, about my life and get away with it.

  “It’s always been me versus the likes of you. I hate you. I hate her. I hate him.” Richie said with venom as he pointed the gun at Beth and Jack, who was breathing shallow breaths.

  “It’s over now. Why doesn’t matter. It just is, things happen just like they happened to me. You shouldn’t be allowed to talk about me or my past. It’s over now anyway. It’s over.”

  Richie once again pointed the gun. Beth was still crouched in the corner, unable to move. Lucy looked down the barrel of the gun and decided to go with dignity. She straightened herself out and stared blankly at the grotesque man. She heard the click of the gun and then the gunfire, so loud, deafening, echoing in the small room. Thinking to herself in an instant that it was strange to hear the shot, assuming she’d simply fall down dead.

  Her eyes adjusted to the scene, she saw Richie’s face explode in front of her, pellets ripped through his skin and tore his face apart, his eyes popped as shotgun pellets shredded his skin, blowing off his whole face as it disintegrated into a shower of mush. Looking down, Lucy saw Chloe, still under the bed, clutching the shotgun that Scott had left leaning against the wall. The girl had crawled from her hiding spot, and from her training had managed to fire the gun directly up into the underside of Richie’s jaw as he focused all his attention on Lucy. Richie’s body countered the blow, rising swiftly until gravity took over, bringing his remains crumpling to the floor.

  Chloe pushed the shotgun aside and crawled out from under the bed, “Jack!” She screamed as she ran towards him laying panting on his back. Lucy moved out from behind the drawers and weakly stumbled over to Jack and knelt beside him.