I slowed up slightly as I approached the building. A wooden veranda stood at the gable end and a covered walkway stretched back along each side of the structure. Several zombies plodded up and down the walkways and some clumped over the veranda, all of them banged on the wooden clubhouse walls, searching for a way in. I had to join them in locating an entranceway but also had to remain undetected.
Glancing behind me, I noticed a few more zombies trailing in my wake, moaning and wailing but still in pursuit. I knew the following stragglers would alert the others around the clubhouse to my presence so I had to move quickly and make some snap decisions. No time to sink into the background and let Smith sort everything out. I had to do this on my own.
I quickly studied the clubhouse exterior, searching for an entrance that wouldn’t allow the undead to follow me inside. A couple of uncovered skylights sat in the sloping roof on each side of the asphalt tiles. I figured going the aerial route was my best way inside or at the very least, I could take a look through the skylight windows.
I skirted around the clubhouse exterior so I faced the veranda, at around thirty feet away. I’d have to dodge the remaining zombies and hop up on the roof in quick time.
I crept forward, hunched over with my M-9 tightly gripped in my right hand. I hoped the wind would detract my scent and the undead wouldn’t hear me approach. Without any medical evidence, we still weren’t sure how the animated corpse’s senses worked. All we knew was they were driven by a rabid hunger to seek out and devour human flesh.
The closest zombie to me was a loner, staggering around in small circles on his lonesome. I crept by him and he emitted a throaty moan that almost sounded sad. A few of the other corpses twisted their heads in my direction, grunting and lowing like a herd of cattle. They’d seen me, they knew I was there. My cover was blown.
Chapter Seventeen
I glanced back across the golf course to the castle walls. I could make out the silhouettes of Alex, Batfish and the others near the portcullis entrance to the castle. The boom and flashes of their shotguns erupted and blazed through the night. I knew they couldn’t hang around long and would soon be making their way back to the side door. Either I had to trek back the way I had come empty handed or make a break for the clubhouse. I wasn’t even sure Smith and the rest of my party was inside but I had a gut feeling.
“Fuck it!” I spat and hurtled towards the wooden structure.
A skinny female zombie, with half her scalp missing, launched herself at me from my right. I swung my handgun in a looping arc and the metal barrel battered the creature’s already exposed skull. I clumped two more ghouls around their heads before I reached the veranda balustrade. The zombies who had frequented the dual walkways at either side of the building now circled around towards the veranda, alerted by the increasing moans and commotion. I was going to have to be quick. The balustrade looked sturdy enough so I grabbed the low hanging fascia with my left hand and hauled myself up to stand on top of the wooden railing.
I tried to refrain from using the M-9 rounds for as long as I could but now the undead circled me and reached for my legs. I popped a couple of rounds at the two nearest snarling mouths then crawled onto the low roof. The zombies below me wailed and reached upward in a last desperate attempt to grab me. I crawled on my elbows and knees through the thick snow and across the inclining roof, towards the first skylight. The wind did its best to try and blow me off the roof and I had to dig in with my knees. I reached the skylight and held on to the wooden exterior frame for some purchase. I rubbed the snow away from the window and peered into the darkness inside the clubhouse. The moonlight reflected off the glass and I couldn’t see anything in the room below, no matter how I angled my head.
I tapped on the window with the handgun barrel, the metal chinking on the glass. Something dark moved in the room below and I called out but the wind tore away any audibility to my words.
The skylight window unexpectedly exploded outwards around me and I briefly heard the whip of a round buzz a few inches by my head. I rolled to the side of the skylight window, still clutching onto the right angled corner of the frame. My legs dangled over the side of the roof but luckily, I was still too high up for the zombies to be able to grab me from the ground below.
I struggled against the wind and the onrush of fatigue when hauling myself back onto the clubhouse roof. I stayed to the right of the skylight frame so I wasn’t in direct sight of whoever was doing the shooting.
“Hold your fire!” I yelled. “I’m trying to help get you out of there.”
I heard a muffled response of a living male voice. I didn’t have many options so I waved my hand in front of the shattered skylight.
“Hold your fire,” I repeated. “I’m coming inside.”
I rolled back towards the window frame and pulled myself up the roof, using the sill as leverage. Flipping my legs through the shattered opening, I gripped either side of the skylight frame and hung for a couple of seconds before allowing myself to drop into the darkness below.
The soles of my boots crunched on the chips of broken glass on the clubhouse floor as I landed. I crouched and rolled to my left, clattering into a stack of plastic chairs. A flashlight beam shone in my face as I lay sprawled on the floor.
“That was one hell of an entrance, kid,” boomed a voice I recognized.
“Smith...Is that you?” I stammered.
The flashlight beam moved away from my face and illuminated the brown linoleum floor.
“It sure is. How did you find us, Wilde Man?”
“It wasn’t all that difficult,” I sniffed, rising to my feet and brushing away the broken glass chips. “I just looked out for the nearest shelter and where a few zombies were gathered. Who tried to take my head off with that shot through the skylight?” I pointed to the ceiling, where the wind howled through the open gap.
“Ah, sorry, man, that was me,” Gera muttered from the gloom. “I saw something moving up there and thought it was a zombie.”
“Zombies don’t climb on roofs, man. Anyway…apology accepted,” I scoffed. “Is everybody okay?”
“We’re all right, Wilde Man. Where the hell have you been?” Smith grunted.
Cordoba stepped into the dim light and gave me a brief hug.
“Batfish and I got into the castle. We were saved by some guy called Alex who lives in there with some other people,” I explained. “We came out looking for you. They’re over by the main entrance so we better hurry if we want to get back inside. It’s a damn site safer than in here, anyhow.” I glanced around the clubhouse and could just about make out a bar counter at the opposite end and a line of glass covered trophy cabinets along the walls. “How did you get in here, anyway?”
“By an easier method than you did, kid,” Smith said, stifling a laugh. “We came through the damn door.” He pointed to a doorway to the left of the bar counter. “Some genius went to all the trouble of boarding the place up but left the fire exit door open slightly and all we had to do was brush the snow away and we were inside.”
“Great!” I groaned. “So I went mountaineering on that roof for nothing.”
“How many zombies are outside?” Cordoba asked.
“There’s about fifteen around this building, mostly out on the veranda but there are a shit load more between us and the castle,” I explained. “We’re going to have to move real fast to cover the ground. I hope the others haven’t gone back inside already.”
“Okay, if those bastards are all on the veranda, we can slip out the fire door and skirt around the back of the clubhouse. That way we’ll be halfway across the golf course before they notice us,” Smith said.
“Okay, let’s roll,” Wingate said, rising to her feet. “I don’t want to have to spend the night in this place.”
We moved towards the fire exit in the corner of the clubhouse. Gera clicked off his flashlight and Smith depressed the gray, metal bar in the center of the door.
“Lead on, Wilde Man,” he whispere
d, shoving the door wide open.
Chapter Eighteen
The wind screamed through the open fire door and I battled to move through the entrance. I turned left on the walkway around the back of the building. No zombies lurked in the immediate vicinity and I assumed they were all still on the front veranda, hoping I would re-emerge from the roof skylight.
The others silently followed my lead. I headed off of the side walkway in a slight jogging run and onto the flat ground that was once a golf course. The dim interior candle lights inside the castle glowed eerily through the night sky. The towers loomed out of the blackness as we drew closer to the solid stone structure.
We dodged several straggling zombies, who moaned wildly as we brushed by them. Smith and Gera smashed their rifle butts into the heads of a couple of undead who came too close for comfort. I couldn’t hear or see any sounds or flashes of shotgun blasts and I wondered where the hell Alex and Batfish and the others were.
I saw a number of silhouettes of heads and hands, reaching between the gaps in the portcullis entrance at the front of the castle but no sounds of gunfire. It seemed pointless heading towards the front of the castle if the way inside was blocked and nobody was there to let us in. I decided to head for the side entrance and just hoped Alex and the others had started to make their way back to the gate.
I reached the corner of the outer wall and jolted in fright when a deep voice barked from above me.
“Hey, Brett!” the voice hissed.
I stopped moving and looked up. Davie stood on top of the outer wall looking down at me, holding his shotgun in one hand and the flare pistol in the other.
“I was just going to fire up the flare. Make your way back to the side gate. The others are waiting for you there on the inside but you’ll have to hurry. There are more zombies coming around the outside walls. I can see them from up here.”
“Okay,” I whispered and continued onwards into the shadows of the side wall.
“Who the hell was that?” Smith asked.
“He’s one of the guys who live here.”
“Jesus, he looks like Satan himself,” he huffed. “I hope these pals of yours are friendly, Wilde. I’m not in the mood for another shoot out tonight.”
“Quit whining,” I snapped. “We’ve got to get back inside there first.”
I heard a series of hisses and screeches from the darkness in front of me so I slowed up the pace. Smith banged into my back from behind me.
“What the fuck is going on?” he muttered.
“Up ahead,” I whispered. “There are some zombies in the shadows. Somebody turn on their flashlight.”
I heard a click from behind me and a bright white glow projected across the snowy ground. At least twenty undead lurked in a line along the wall. Some were even chewing on loose or protruding stones from the fortification. The flashlight picked out their milky white eyes, glaring back at us.
“Where’s this damn gate, Wilde Man?” Smith spat.
“Just up ahead,” I groaned. “Only another few yards.”
Smith raised his M-16 rifle to his eye line and released a burst of fire. The rounds rattled against the wall, passing through undead skulls and producing a slimy brown stripe of diseased blood and brain matter across the stones. Cordoba also opened fire, taking out any zombies who had strayed away from the wall.
“Keep that flashlight on,” Smith instructed Gera. “We need to see what the hell we’re doing now. A whole load more of them are going to come after us.”
We moved steadily forward but I could see the pale faces looming from the darkness beyond. Masses of the undead surged around the far corner of the castle and headed in our direction. I hoped we could make it to the side gate in time before the horde swarmed all over us.
I caught sight of the recess where the side gate was located but it was closer to the swarm of zombies than it was to us.
“We’re going to have to move faster or we’re not going to make it in time,” I hissed through clenched teeth.
“You better hope your buddies open the door for us or we’re all toast,” Smith growled.
“Give me the flashlight,” Wingate screeched at Gera. “You’ve got that rifle and I’m only carrying a handgun. That way I can keep the light steadier.”
Gera handed over the flashlight to Wingate and she slowly swept the light beam across our pathway and up the high bank away to our right. We were bottled in unless we retreated back to the front of the castle but by now, those zombies roaming the golf course would be making their way towards us.
“Some fucking plan this, kid,” Smith mocked. “We were nice and safe in that old clubhouse, if you’d just left us alone.”
I opened my mouth to protest but didn’t utter a single word. The side door banged open and Alex stepped into the flashlight beam. He had his shotgun in his hands and looked to his left and saw the oncoming horde of undead, then turned his head towards us.
“Come on,” he hollered. “This way, quickly.” He furiously waved us forward towards him.
Alex stood between us and the crowd of zombies so we couldn’t fire any gunshots for fear of hitting him with a stray round. I picked up the pace and surged forward on aching legs, somehow finding an extra spurt of energy. The others followed my lead and easily kept pace. Alex bundled me through the open gate and Batfish and Mo stood inside the castle grounds waiting with their guns drawn. Smith, Wingate, Cordoba and Gera followed me through the entrance. Alex fired his shotgun into the closing undead throng, leapt back through the doorway, then slammed the gate shut and locked it with the bolts and key within a couple of seconds. We heard the howls and thumping of fists on the opposite side of the gate once it was closed.
“You cut that fine,” Alex sighed, breathing heavily. “We didn’t think you were coming back.”
“Will that gate hold them out?” Smith asked suspiciously.
“That door will keep them out, all right,” he replied, with a hint of contempt in his voice. “Come on, let’s go inside out of this cold.”
Smith nudged me and nodded towards Alex as we followed him back inside the castle interior. We walked in file through the conservatory. Smith, Cordoba, Wingate and Gera dumped their backpacks next to mine and Batfish’s by the chairs in the Great Hall. We took off our jackets and spent a couple of minutes thawing out by the fire, then followed Alex upstairs to the dining area. He promised us all more hot soup and a main meal as we trudged up the staircase.
The rest of the castle residents were tucking into their main course when we entered the dining area and approached the long table. Spot came to greet us, wagging his tail and leaping up at our shins as we walked across the carpeted floor space. He looked full of beans after his rest and his belly looked full.
“Find yourselves a chair and sit yourselves down,” Alex addressed us new arrivals. “There’s plenty of room and food enough for everyone.”
We all took our places at the table. I avoided sitting anywhere near the weird hag called Joan and slumped down on a chair between Cordoba and Smith. Mrs McMahon smiled warmly as she handed out steaming platefuls of a meaty stew like substance. To be honest, it wasn’t much different from the earlier soup but it was warming and suppressed the hunger. One of my Irish mother’s favorite sayings was “never look a gift horse in the mouth,” and I never really knew what that meant until these troubled times, enduring a lack of the fundamental, basic needs.
Alex poured more wine and held court, recounting to the others about our close shave with the undead. The room soon filled with the hubbub of conversation from both parties. Who we all were, where we had come from, who they were and how long they’d been holed up in the castle. Cordoba and I talked between ourselves for a few moments.
“I didn’t like us being separated during that dangerous situation,” she said and briefly rested her head on my shoulder. “I didn’t know where you were and I was worried.”
I smiled and noticed somebody watching me from across the table. Maddie cont
inuously stared at me, still with a flirty smirk on her face. I returned the smile but let my eyes drop. I couldn’t exactly reciprocate the alluring behavior with Cordoba sitting next to me.
“How long will you all be staying with us at Connauld Castle?” Alex asked.
“Ah, we don’t want to cramp you guys,” Smith sighed. “But we’d be grateful if you could spare us some shelter for a couple of days.”
“No problem,” Alex said, shaking his head. “We’re happy to have you here. Stay as long as you like.”
Mrs McMahon collected up the dishes when we’d all eaten as much soup and stew as we could stuff ourselves with. The young pretty girl, Chloe gave Mrs McMahon a hand with the piles of dirty plates and bowls.
“We’ll prepare some guest rooms for you in the North Wing,” Mrs McMahon called back, as she and Chloe disappeared through an open doorway beyond the long table at the back of the dining hall.
“It’s just like staying in a hotel,” Wingate cooed, with a big grin on her face. “I think I’m going to like it here.”
I nodded in agreement but immediately caught the eye of Joan, who glared intently at me from the opposite side of the table. All of a sudden, I didn’t feel so welcome, after all.
Chapter Nineteen
The dining table was littered with empty wine bottles and Alex asked us if we wanted something stronger. I could hardly keep my eyes open and desperately wanted to find a bed for the night. The combination of a long day’s trek, the biting cold, lots of hot food and booze made me feel as though I could sleep for a week. I declined Alex’s offer of another ‘wee dram’ but Smith, Wingate and Gera accepted.
The Left Series (Book 4): Left In The Cold Page 9