The Monsterland Trilogy [Books 1-3]

by Whittington, Shaun

  “You get in the boat then,” Joan ordered Gordon. “You look done-in. Marvin can come.”

  Gordon never protested. Joan was right. He was exhausted.

  Marvin laughed, “Shit. Joan’s stronger than you then, Gordon?”

  “I never had a good sleep,” Gordon defended himself, but his excuse sounded weak and pathetic.

  Marvin jumped out of the boat, landing on the bank. He then cackled and smacked Joan on the backside, “Come on then, darling. Let's go.”

  “I'm not your fucking darling,” Joan snapped.

  “Ooh, feisty one here, Gordon. I'm surprised you haven't tapped this slag.” Joan walked away when Marvin added, “I like this one.”

  Gordon Burns shook his head, disgusted at Marvin's choice of words. How was he supposed to respond to a statement like that? Marvin was a scumbag, and even his own brother had warned Gordon about him. Why did he have to come here? Why couldn't he have stayed where he was?

  Gordon watched as Marvin disappeared behind the trees after Joan, both now carrying a knife each.

  “Prick,” he muttered.

  Chapter Three

  “How many more trips, do you think?” Lloyd asked Gordon.

  Joan and Marvin had brought back a crate of soda each and Gordon had rowed back to the cabin as the pair of them went back in The White Horse.

  “No idea.” Gordon hunched his shoulders. “As soon as Marvin and Joan get knackered, I suppose. I couldn't do any more.”

  “Just tell them one more trip,” Lloyd said. “Don't wanna be putting them in any unnecessary danger. They've done enough.”

  “If you say so.”

  Junior returned from the side of the cabin after relieving himself and asked his dad if he wanted the crates inside.

  “Yes, son.” Lloyd nodded. “If you can manage them.”

  Junior bent his knees and picked up the first crate. Clearly struggling, he staggered to the cabin whilst his dad and Gordon cracked a smile.

  “Bless him,” said Gordon as Junior went inside. “He's trying.”

  “He is.” Lloyd nodded. “This thing has frightened the life out of him.”

  “It's frightened the life out of me,” Gordon laughed falsely.

  “I know, but Junior used to run his mouth off now and again.” Lloyd shook his head with a smile and cackled, “He was a right cheeky shit, man. Since that episode, trying to cross the pond, and Sue getting killed, he now seems a lot quieter.”

  Gordon patted Lloyd on the shoulder and announced, “Anyway, I better get going, before Marvin and Joan turn up. Your brother looks like someone that I shouldn't piss off.”

  “He seems quite mellow this morning.” Lloyd then smiled and added, “Give him time, then you'll realise why I don't like him.”

  Gordon released a chuckle and headed back to the boat. He sat inside it, grabbed the oars, and Lloyd pushed the boat back out onto the river and Gordon began rowing.

  On his first trip over, Gordon had did his best to avoid the floating bodies, and this time his right oar scraped just the one body as the boat progressed to the other side. He looked over the side and saw three at the bottom of the shallow pond. Two looked like females. He wondered if one of them was Sue. He couldn’t remember what she was wearing before she died.

  As the boat reached the bank, Gordon got out, getting both feet wet, and leaned against the wooden means of transport, waiting for the arrival of Joan and Marvin, hammer now tucked in his belt.

  He leaned against the boat and folded his arms. He lowered his head as he began to cast his mind back a few days, when it all started for him: The drive along the Pennines. The man in the green gown. Getting to the guesthouse. Fleeing the guesthouse. Getting to the White Horse.

  Gordon Burns began to sob. He placed his hands on his forehead and his shoulders shuddered as he broke down. His breakdown was short-lived, however, once he heard the sounds of running feet coming from behind the trees that restricted his view of the pub's car park. Gordon had no idea if they belonged to the feet of Marvin and Joan, other people, or...

  He was unsure what to do, but he did the brave thing and headed for the trees. He walked through them and took a look into the car park. The two vehicles were still there, no sign of Marvin and Joan, but two Runners were seen round the back, trying to get in through the back door by throwing themselves at it.

  Gordon watched with dread and saw that the two looked determined to get in. If they really wanted inside, then why didn’t they just go through the windows at the front of the pub? thought Gordon.

  He watched with petrified eyes as the confused things looked unsure how to open the door. They touched the handle a few times. But never twisted or tried to pull at the doorknob.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  Gordon gazed hypnotically and began to chew on the side of his skin.

  The Runners were both male, both young men, and may have been friends before they were attacked. The two then jogged back round to the front of the pub, out of Gordon's view. Gordon Burns knew that staying where he was wouldn't do him or Joan and Marvin any favours, so as a precaution he decided to row back to the island.

  He was certain that the Runner's presence had already been spotted by Joan and Marvin, and the pair of them were probably hiding somewhere in the pub, probably the attic.

  Gordon did think that killing the two was doable, but maybe Marvin and Joan didn't know how many there were before fleeing. Maybe they just heard the footsteps. Maybe they just didn't want to take the risk. Even in a one-on-one situation, Gordon would prefer to hide than confront one of those crazy fucks.

  The boat began to glide into the water as Gordon rowed. He could hear Lloyd yelling from behind, asking Gordon what was going on. He didn't need to wait long for an answer. The sound of feet pounding the earth and the rustle of trees made Gordon look up and saw the two monsters running towards the pond. Gordon was engulfed in panic and rowed as if his life depended on it. As soon as the two infected ran into the water, they fell, recovered back to their feet, and seemed confused why they had lost their balance.

  The one in front dived for the boat and managed to grab a hold of it, stopping the boat's momentum. Gordon stopped rowing, grabbed one of the oars with both hands and hit its skull. It disappeared and sank, whilst 'infected being number two' snarled and continued to wade through the water, which was now up to his waist.

  With just the one of them, Gordon relaxed a little and began rowing again, this time gently, and watched as the water slowly rose up to the infected's mouth as it tried to pursue Gordon. It was now beginning to struggle as Gordon's boat surfaced the island where Lloyd and Junior were waiting for him. All three watched in silence as the creature slowly made its way back to the edge of the pond, standing by the trees, soaking wet. The pond was a godsend, no doubt about it, but Joan and Marvin were missing. And one Runner was active.

  “What do you reckon?” Gordon asked with his back to Lloyd, still sitting in the boat.

  “I don't know, man,” sighed Lloyd. He was standing by the water's edge, a yard from the boat, and looked out over the pond with his arm around his only child.

  Gordon said, “Going back over is too dangerous at the moment, especially when you can't see what's behind those trees. There could be more of them.”

  Lloyd agreed. “Maybe you're right. Maybe we should wait and give that thing time to bugger off.”

  “So what now?”

  “Give Marvin and Joan another hour to show up, then I'll go over.”

  Junior took an intake of breath, about to protest, but his father stopped him by saying, “No arguments.”

  Gordon couldn't understand why these things couldn't remember most of their skills, like swimming, and were unaware of water itself. They could run and eat, but most of the skills they had learned during their time when they were not infected had been forgotten. Nobody knew why. It was something that also baffled the media when it first kicked off.

  Chapter Four

 
; Marvin Dickinson and Joan never heard the commotion from outside and left the pub, dragging their feet, whilst carrying a crate each of bottled fizzy drinks. Despite his hard image, Marvin's neck twisted from side to side, paranoid that the infected could come from the country road and into the pub's car park any time. This made Joan smirk.

  Not so tough now, are you, you silly bastard?

  Marvin was in front, pretending that the crate was easy to carry, but he wasn't fooling Joan. Her arms felt that they were ready to fall off, and Marvin couldn't have been that much stronger. He must have been struggling, she thought.

  He turned his head and grinned at Joan. “Hurry up, slow coach.”

  “I'm coming, I'm coming,” she snapped.

  “Now there's a saying I've heard a thousand times.” Marvin leered at Joan and stuck his tongue in his cheek, making her stomach turn.

  “Really?” Joan sounded unimpressed. “When you're cracking one off ... on your own.”

  Marvin lost his smile and snarled, “Just fucking hurry up.”

  “Er ... don't forget that this is my umpteenth journey.” Joan glared at the back of Marvin who was now facing the front, heading to the trees and the pond. The pub was behind them.

  “Touchy, aren't we?” Marvin began to cackle, making Joan irate. He certainly knew how to push her buttons. “What's up, darling? Are you on the rag? That time of the month?”

  “I'm not even going to respond to that, you're—”

  Marvin suddenly stopped walking, and Joan did the same. She was certain that he wasn't messing about and slowly placed the crate on the floor, Marvin did the same.

  She whispered, “What is it?”

  He slowly turned around and she could see the angst in his face. “Back to the pub,” he whispered back.

  “What?”

  Marvin turned his head once he heard a disturbance in the trees and saw a male jogging towards them, soaked to the bone. Marvin and Joan knew immediately that it was one of them, and wondered how many more were going to emerge from the trees.

  Knowing that outrunning this thing was going to be difficult, Joan and Marvin stood their ground, both pulling knives out of their back pockets. Both were now convinced it was on its own, otherwise it would have had company by now.

  “I've got it,” Marvin spoke up.

  This surprised and pleased Joan. She had no idea if Marvin was being nice, or he was a sick bastard and was looking forward to killing this lone individual. The latter, she guessed.

  The contaminated jogger began to pick up its pace and was now sprinting towards Marvin. He tossed the knife from one clammy hand to the next and held it tight once the blade was back in his right hand. He clasped it tightly and threw his arm back to stab the thing through the head, but it dived at Marvin. Not expecting this, Marvin was taken by surprise, dropped the blade, and now had the arms of the Runner around him, now trying to take a bite.

  Marvin began to scream out, panicking, as the attacker snarled and gnashed at his stomach, trying to tear out a piece of flesh. Marvin, in desperation, began punching the thing on top of its head. He then grabbed it by the ears and tried to push it, but it was stubborn and strong.

  He eventually managed to push it away, then booted it in the face once it tried to lunge at him for a second time. The thing collapsed in a heap, but Marvin was certain that one kick to the head wasn't enough to kill it. He kicked the individual at the side of the head two more times, as it lay motionless, then bent down to pick up his knife. He grabbed the back of the hair of his assailant, and drove the blade into the back of the neck, gave it a quick twist, then pulled it out.

  A smile emerged on his face, as he looked down on his victim, but it soon disappeared when he realised that Joan had been standing behind him the whole time.

  “You could have helped, you stupid slag,” he turned to her and growled, “rather than just standing there like a spare cunt.”

  Joan smiled and said sarcastically, “Oh, but you seem to be doing so well on your own.”

  “Cheeky fucker.” Marvin turned and spat to the floor. “I suppose, with the exception of dropping the blade, it was easy enough.”

  “Oh, you looked completely in control,” mocked Joan. “Even when you began to scream like a girl, I thought to myself ... this guy knows his shit.”

  Marvin glared at Joan, and for a second she thought she had gone too far. She thought he was going to kill her. Who would know? What was stopping him from driving a blade into her and going back to the cabin, telling Gordon and Lloyd that she had been taken down by a Runner. It would be one less mouth to feed.

  “Come on,” Marvin urged Joan, swallowing his anger. She'd keep. “Better keep moving.”

  For once she agreed with him, and walked over to the crate and bent her knees, ready to lift the thing, but she paused. She paused because Marvin was stood up straight, had a confused look on his face and his head was cocked to one side. What could he hear?

  “What is it?” asked Joan, releasing the crate and straightening up.

  Marvin never answered at first. He bent down, then went onto his knees and turned his head to the side. Lowering himself, he placed his right ear on the tarmac of the pub's car park.

  Joan wasn't sure if Marvin was playing a trick on her—it wouldn't surprise her, so she tried to remain as calm as possible when she queried him further, “What is it, Marvin?”

  His head quickly looked up at Joan, then he stood and looked over her shoulder. He pointed. “Better leave the crates where they are.”

  Still unsure whether Marvin was fucking with her, she decided to turn around slowly, trying not to look panicky, and gulped when she could see a crowd of Runners coming from around the corner of the pub, from the main road, and picking up speed once they clocked the pair of them.

  With a twenty yard head start, Marvin and Joan screamed fuck at the top of their voices before fleeing towards the trees, towards the pond. As soon as they both went through the shallow woodland, Marvin was the first to run into the water, followed by Joan. They had to hurry, certain that the infected were only seconds behind them.

  Once Marvin and Joan were waist height in water, they tried to swim. Joan released a yelp when something brushed passed her leg; it was a body that had brushed her. Joan tried to put it to the back of her mind and could see Marvin was way ahead of her. She picked up her speed and could hear the sounds of splashing coming from behind. The Runners were entering the water, and this alone helped her to pick up her speed.

  The swim to the small island where the cabin was situated was a short one, and she looked up to see Marvin walking the rest now it was shallow enough, and Lloyd, Junior and Gordon waiting at the edge, waiting for the two of them to return.

  Marvin was finally out and whilst the other three urged Joan to hurry up, Marvin just stood with his hands on his hips, staring at what was behind her.

  She could finally feel the floor and decided to walk the rest. She turned around to see at least thirty by the edge, most were reluctant to go into the water, but some were entering. Two were even attempting to swim, but failing miserably and retreated back to the bank.

  As soon as Joan reached the edge and stood her five-four frame up straight, now staring at the herd that was gathering on the other side of the pond, Lloyd spoke out.

  He said, “I have a bad feeling about this, man.”

  “What're you pissing on about?” Gordon snapped, showered in fear from what he was witnessing. Many were at the edge, but nine were in the water. Some looked determined to cross, others were unsure and made little steps. “They did this yesterday evening and the ones that tried to cross drowned.”

  “Yeah, but I reckon that this is the same bunch from yesterday.”

  “Your point being?” Joan said with a shiver, she was soaked to the skin.

  Lloyd pointed across the water, some more were now entering the water and flapping their arms once it reached their waists. “Some must remember what happened here. Some are trying to
swim across, whereas yesterday they just drowned.”

  “You think they can remember stuff from yesterday?”

  “Absolutely. Remember, they're still human but infected.” The bald forty-three-year-old Lloyd Dickinson rubbed his stubbly chin, continuing to glare at the eerie sight of the group that wanted to tear their throats out.

  “Look!” Junior called out and pointed across. He didn't know why he did this. They were all looking at the same thing. “One of them is drowning.”

  All watched as the one that had progressed the furthest in the pond was struggling to keep its head up the deeper the water became. Eventually it disappeared and Lloyd could hear the delight in the group's voices.

  He said, “Don't count your chickens before they fall from the tree.”

  Marvin turned to his brother and said, “That doesn't make sense.”

  “What I mean...” sighed Lloyd, “is that they'll learn how to cross ... eventually. More may die, but...”

  “Pissin' hell.” Gordon shook his head. “Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

  Lloyd nodded.

  “I don't know what you mean.” Junior began to shake with nerves and had no idea what both men were talking about.

  Neither did Joan, so she asked, “Could you please enlighten us and stop talking in code?”

  Gordon turned to Joan and told her, “We're gonna have to leave.”

  “Leave?” Both Marvin and Joan guffawed, and Marvin added, “Where the fuck can we go?”

  Lloyd pointed behind them. “Across the other part of the pond and into the woods.”

  “Why?” As soon as Joan asked she already knew the answer.

  “Another couple of days,” Lloyd said softly, “and those same bastards will be able to swim across. I'm sure of it.”

  “And what about the supplies that we've spent ages collecting, not forgetting risking our lives for?”