Burn The Dead Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Jenkins, Steven

  Need to get out of here.

  Can’t breathe.

  I’m still dreaming.

  That’s all.

  I’m still asleep…

  But then my eyes start to focus again, and I see the cold, desperate look on Janet’s face, and the pool of dried blood and torn flesh on the floor around her family.

  And I can see all too clearly that I’m awake.

  And this nightmare has only just begun.

  22

  Janet Webber.

  At first, she just seemed little more than a middle-aged tomboy when I saw her shooting Necs from the window. But now, as I watch her hack off the limbs of the Cleaner with a meat cleaver, and pass them down to her rotten husband and two children, I now know different. I now know how twisted and deeply disturbed she is.

  Was it the loss of her family that has sunk her to this level? Or has she always been so…lost?

  Impossible to tell.

  What I do know is that no matter what life throws at me, no matter how hard and unbearable it might be—I would never resort to cold-blooded murder!

  Never!

  “Can’t let them have the entire body,” Janet says, wiping the sweat from her brow. “Malcolm will hog all the meat. He’s always been like that. Can’t have my kids starving to death—not while I’m still their mother.”

  I can hear Sammy crying, his face buried deep into Sandra’s shoulder. From the look on Sandra’s face, it seems like she’s holding back a flood of vomit. But who could blame her? Don’t even know if it’s the sight of the limbs being cut off and eaten—or the fact that one of us is next in line.

  I try to look away from the putrid horror, but for some reason I can’t pull my eyes away. I’m drawn to watch the vile acts of murder. Maybe I’ve just desensitised myself from working at Romkirk. Or maybe I just need to see what’s to become of me, to see what I’m up against.

  To see—

  “You’re sick!” Sandra yells out; her words muffled with anguish and revulsion. “You’re a murderer, Janet! A sick, depraved murderer!”

  Janet doesn’t even look up at her as she begins cutting down on the Cleaner’s last remaining leg. “I’m a lot of things, Sandra—but a murderer is not one of them.”

  “Then what the hell would you call it?”

  “Survival.”

  “How the hell is killing an innocent man, survival? He’s done nothing to you. Absolutely nothing at all. He came here to keep us all safe. And you’ve just killed him in cold blood.”

  “If this is what it takes to cure my family, then one bloody Cleaner is worth it.”

  “You’re a psycho! There is no cure! Your family is dead! When are you going to get it through your thick skull?”

  Janet’s chopping suddenly becomes a lot more vicious, clearly angered by Sandra’s comments. I look over at Sammy; he’s still huddled up close to Sandra.

  Thank God he hasn’t been alone down here. Thank God for Sandra.

  “Look, Janet,” I say, “I know you’re hurting. But feeding them won’t bring them back. Please, just take a moment and step back—then you’ll see how crazy all this is.”

  Janet stops cutting, and lets go of the meat cleaver. She sits, just a metre from her daughter, next to the washing machine, and then looks over to me. “I’m well aware how ridiculous this may seem. I really do. But I have to. I know they may look dead, and I know that the books and the TV say that they are. But I know, with every ounce of my heart, that my family is still alive. Yeah, they may be lost for the moment, trapped in a deep, dark coma, inside their decaying bodies,” she shakes her head in denial, “but I don’t believe that God would ever allow the dead to just walk around like this.”

  “We don’t think you’re crazy because you believe your family is alive,” Sandra interrupts. “It’s the fact that you just butchered that poor man to death.”

  “Why don’t you shut your fucking mouth, Sandra. They need to feed. They need human meat. Fresh meat. It’s the only thing they can eat. Do you really think that this was my first plan of action? Do you really think this was an easy decision for me? Well, it wasn’t. That you can be sure of. I tried everything. When Malcolm first turned, I gave him raw, animal meat—he didn’t touch it. Christ, the only thing that came close was dog meat. Our three dogs were the first to go, followed by any dog I could get hold of around Crandale. But it just wasn’t good enough. Only when he ate Paul Henry from next door, did he start to settle, as if satisfied. And Paul was just an accident. I never wanted him to die. I loved him. He was like family to us. He was one of Malcolm’s best friends. But once he got hold of him, he wouldn’t stop tearing him to pieces. It was horrible!”

  Janet shakes her head in disgust. “But that’s when I realised that he needed live, human meat to survive. So I just had to take Paul’s wife, Alison—for Sophie and Jack.” She glimpses down at the dried blood on the floor by her family. “I just had to. I had no choice. This is the cure. The only cure. This course of action will bring them back—I just know it. Sophie’s already started showing signs of calm. She hasn’t tried to bite me since yesterday. And I’m sure her skin is getting better too. It’s looking a lot clearer.”

  I listen to Janet as she gives her reasons for such a despicable act, and I can’t help but feel sorry for her. Maybe she was driven to this only by the loss of her family. Maybe it wasn’t something that’s always been inside her—brewing slowly—waiting to come to the surface.

  Nevertheless, she’s a sick, vile murderer. Even if she could plead temporary insanity in a court of law—that won’t stop me from killing her and her family to get us the fuck out of here!

  Have to be smart about this. Screaming at her is only gonna make matters worse. Have to keep her cool; keep her talking.

  For Sammy.

  “Janet, I understand,” I say, softly. “I know what it feels like to want to keep your family safe. I knew that whatever was in Crandale didn’t matter to me. Nothing inside could compare to the thought of losing Sammy. Nothing. No disease. No Necs. Just the love for my little boy. See, Janet, you and I are the same. We’re prepared to do anything to save our family. So please, at least let my son go. He’s already lost his mother to this disease. Don’t make him go through anything else. I’ll gladly take his place. I won’t put up a fight. I promise. Just let him go. He’s got his grandmother to look after him. He’ll be all right. Please, Janet, I’m begging you. You know it’s the right thing to do.”

  The room falls silent. All I can hear is the sound of her family chewing on lumps of flesh. I try to block out the gut-wrenching noise and focus on Janet. I have to get through to her. I can do this. I know I can. If I can burn Necs for a living, then I’m sure I can get through this. She’s just a woman who’s lost her family. If I can sympathise, try to think on her level, then maybe I stand a chance. A slim one.

  It’s not like I have any other options.

  “I couldn’t let him go even if I wanted to,” Janet says, picking up the meat cleaver again, continuing to chop down on the leg. “There’d be no point.”

  “Why? Surely you can think about it. He’s just a little boy. Please, Janet.”

  “There’d be no point—he wouldn’t last thirty-seconds outside. Not with all those Necs running about. There’s a hundred of ‘em. Maybe more. At least down here he can spend his last few hours with his father.”

  I feel an uncontrollable tightening of my entire body, consuming me. Frustration and anger are strangling me. I try anxiously to hold back my emotions, but it’s impossible. “Please, Janet, I’m begging you. Let’s all go then. We can keep him safe. Please. You don’t have to do this. I’m begging you.”

  But my words of desperation go unheard as she tears off the leg from the Cleaner’s hip joint. It gives off a horrid popping sound. I hear Sandra throw up over herself as Janet passes the leg over to her husband. The three Necs fight over the limb, snarling at each other like dogs.

  My stomach sinks to the floor. But not from
the foul, putrid act I see from across the room. No, it’s much worse than that. It’s the feeling of failure that sickens me.

  And I’m now absolutely positive that this woman’s head is completely fucked.

  And none of us are getting out of here alive.

  23

  Janet Webber has gone.

  For now, at least. Who knows when she’ll bless us with her presence again. For once I’d happily pray for Necs to burst through the front door and storm the house. At least she’d be the first to go—maybe rip off her fucking head. It might take them a little more time to find us down here. At least we’d be safe. Well, not exactly safe. Not with these bloody ropes tied around us. So tight. My hands and feet have lost virtually all sensation. I feel they’re gonna go black and drop off any minute. I’ve tried biting through them but had zero effect. And there’s nothing for me to rub them against.

  How the hell did I end up here? In this dungeon? I look over to Sammy, but I can’t see him. Just a silhouette. Janet was kind enough to knock off the light before she left. The room is in darkness, apart from the weak glow from the staircase bulb. I can only hear her family chomp down on the last of the Cleaner’s corpse. I very much doubt the poor bastard will turn. Can’t see there being much of him left even if the disease did manage to get into his bloodstream.

  The thought of her dead family so near to me—to Sammy—fills me with a foreboding that I’ve never felt before. Even with a job like mine, I never thought that he would ever be so close to danger; that I’d be so powerless to protect him. And what if those ropes snap? What chance do we have to defend ourselves against an attack? Absolutely none. Am I meant to just take her word that she’s tied them up tight? The word of a fucking maniac?

  At least it’s too dark for Sammy to see them. And more importantly—they can’t see him.

  Poor little boy.

  Don’t know what time is it. Feels late. Must be night by now. Got to be. The tranq would have knocked me out for a good six or seven hours. Easily. Shame they don’t work as well on Necs.

  So thirsty. Can’t remember the last time I drank something. I think maybe over in Edith’s house.

  Oh my God: Edith.

  It feels like a lifetime ago. But it was only yesterday. Or was it the day before? Can’t remember. This whole mess feels like one, everlasting nightmare. And now that I’ve found Sammy, it should be over.

  But it’s far from over.

  “You okay, Sammy?” I whisper to him, not wanting to rile up the Necs. “Are you hurt at all?”

  “I’m okay, Daddy,” he replies, his voice quiet but hoarse. He needs water.

  I hold off another dose of tears from the sound of his voice. Can’t show him how scared I am. How lost I feel. Have to show him how happy I am to be near him. Have to let him believe that he’s safe.

  Even if it is a lie.

  “Did the lady tie the ropes too tight around your hands, Sammy?” I ask him.

  “A little, Daddy.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  He shakes his head.

  I force a smile, even though I’m sure he can’t see it. “Good boy, Sammy. You’re a brave little soldier. When we get out of here, I’ll take you wherever you want to go. I promise.”

  “With Mammy?”

  My stomach churns as I hear his words. I can’t answer. Tears get the better of me. I try to hide the sound of despair by burying my mouth into my sleeve, but all it does is soften the noise. I try to gather myself, but can’t. How the hell do I tell him the truth? It’s impossible. He’s too young. He’s only four. No four-year-old should have to go through all this shit. It’s not right. It’s not fucking right!

  “Mammy’s still in work, boy,” I lie, somehow containing my grief.

  “When will she be back?” Sammy asks.

  “We’ll see her soon, boy. When she finishes.”

  “Okay, Daddy.”

  His groggy, weak sounding voice causes me to clench my fists. How can Janet do this to him? He’s only a child. What kind of person could tie up a little boy down a grotty, old basement?

  Crazy bitch!

  I’m gonna fucking kill her!

  I tug hard on the ropes, but they don’t budge. And my skin is too swollen around them for any movement.

  “How are we going to get out of here?” I ask Sandra. “We have to think of something. I’m not gonna die down here. None of us are. There’s gotta be a way. She’s just one bloody woman.”

  “We can’t,” Sandra replies, coldly.

  “What do you mean we can’t? Of course we can.”

  “Why do you think the Cleaner was passed out next to you?”

  “Don’t know. Lack of water?”

  “No. He managed to bite through his ropes. But she caught him. Smashed him over the head with a metal pole. And just let him bleed all over the floor. That’s why the ropes are so tight—she’s not gonna risk anyone else trying to escape.”

  “Jesus Christ. How can she be so deluded? I mean, thinking she’s found the cure. She’s completely lost her mind!” Sighing loudly, I try to calm down. “Has she always been such a psycho?”

  “No. Well, not really. A little weird, maybe. Her and her family have always kept to themselves. You know, nothing that strange. Just,” she shrugs, “odd.”

  “Jesus. I had no idea anyone in Crandale could be capable of such a thing. Christ, I saw her the other day. She was crossing the road. In the same bloody dressing gown. She stepped out right in front of me. She seemed weird then, but nothing like this. I’d never have guessed she’d turned out to be some crazy lunatic. Not in a million years.”

  “I know. I’ve known her for twenty years. Not like friends, though, just neighbours. And those poor kids—keeping them like this. It’s not right. My son used to play with her boy all the time. Didn’t think anything of it. Can’t believe what it’s done to her—she’s really lost it.”

  “Look, Sandra, we have to get out of here. There’s gotta be a way. We have to think of something. Anything. I’m not gonna let anything happen to Sammy. He’s just a kid. He shouldn’t be here. None of us should. We can’t be so close to those Necs. It’s too dangerous.”

  “I don’t think they can move, Rob. I think they’ve been down here for a while.”

  “What if they bite through their ropes? What then? Every noise we make provokes them—gets them angry. We need to go now.”

  “I don’t see how. She’s completely nuts, but she knows how to tie a rope tight. I’ve tried and tried to wriggle free, but it’s impossible.”

  “What about breaking this pipe?” I ask, yanking the rope hard. “Maybe if we pull it hard enough we could snap it. Or find something we can use to cut them? Something sharp? Must be something lying around here.”

  “There’s nothing. Not a thing. She’s made sure of it. I’ve looked. Not even a bloody paperclip.”

  “What about if we burn the ropes?”

  “With what?”

  “Janet’s got a lighter in her pocket. I saw it when I came in. She gave me a cigarette.”

  “How are we supposed to get it?”

  I ponder for moment. “Okay, the next time she comes down here we’ll—”

  “Rob, the next time she comes down here she’ll be feeding me to her bloody family.”

  “Do you smoke, Sandra?”

  “Yeah. Sometimes. Why?”

  “Then you can ask her for a cigarette. One last smoke before you die.”

  “She won’t even give us food and water. Do you seriously think she’s gonna care about my smoking habit?”

  “She might. You never know. We have to at least try. Once she hands you the lighter, I’ll distract her—then you slip it to me.”

  “It’s not gonna work, Rob. It’s stupid. If she’s down here, then she’s here to drag me over to her family. You won’t have time to burn through your ropes. There’s no way.”

  “Then we have to get her down here before she plans to kill you.”

  �
��How are we supposed to do that?”

  “We call her.”

  “We call her?”

  “Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Well, what are you gonna say to her when she comes? If she comes?”

  “I’ll tell her that Sammy needs water. Say that he’s sick. You said yourself she’s been giving him some.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “You thirsty, Sammy?” I ask him. “Daddy get some water for you?”

  He doesn’t reply.

  “Sammy? You thirsty?”

  Still no reply.

  An electric shock of panic shunts me. I’m about to scream at him. Call his name at the top of my voice. Oblivious to the Necs opposite me. Unconcerned about Janet upstairs.

  But then Sandra gently shushes me, and whispers. “He’s all right, Rob. He’s just sleeping. Don’t worry. He’s fine.”

  A loud sigh of relief settles my nerves. But only for a moment. Sammy may be asleep for now, but it’s only a matter of time before Janet—

  “Look, Rob, this is a bad idea. Even if she does give me a cigarette, the chances of her handing the lighter over are slim to none. She’d most likely just light it herself. It’s hopeless, Rob. I’m sorry—but it is.”

  “Then what the fuck are we supposed to do?” I snap. “Sit down here and wait to die?”

  “No. But we have to think of something better. She may have lost her mind, but she’s not stupid. And that’s what makes her so bloody dangerous.”

  “No, what makes her so dangerous is having that huge meat cleaver and tranquiliser gun. Plus, her dead family is sat opposite us.”

  “Look, there must be something we can tell her. Maybe something to do with her family. Maybe tell her you know a way to cure them.”

  “I thought you said she wasn’t stupid? Only a complete idiot would believe something like that.”

  “Yes, but it’s worth a shot. At least you could say that it’s only a theory. Even say that you don’t believe it yourself. Come on, Rob, think of something. You must have something from your job you could use to convince her.”

  “Maybe. But what’s the point? I’ve already told her that there’s no cure.”