The Left Series (Book 4): Left In The Cold

by Christian Fletcher

  “But why did she have to kill him?” Batfish whined.

  “Anger, frustration, who knows,” Alex sighed. “She wanted to vent her rage on somebody. She probably knocked on Gera’s door, expecting Cordoba to answer, with the plan to lock her outside of the open gate. When Maddie realized Gera and Cordoba had swapped rooms, she probably told him she’d heard a suspicious noise or seen a rat or something in the washroom. He goes down there to investigate, she follows him in and…well, you know the rest.”

  That was Gera all right, always ready to help out. He died trying to help somebody, who he didn’t realize was duping him.

  “How do you tolerate living like this?” Batfish scolded. “Why do you let her get away with all these god-awful things she’s done?”

  Alex and Chloe looked uncomfortable and shuffled around, glancing at each other.

  “Everybody else thinks she’s great,” Alex groaned. “Nobody would believe us. Only Joan also knows the truth. We told her.”

  “Joan’s dead, Alex,” Chloe whispered.

  “What?” he roared.

  “Rory went berserk and killed her with an axe,” Jimmy chipped in. “Split her feckin’ head right in two, so he did. The big mallet head.”

  Alex’s eyes widened and he clasped his free hand across his mouth then brushed back his hair. “Fuck’s sake,” he spat. “This situation is getting way out of hand.” His earlier bravado had ebbed away completely. He now was the definitive image of a worried man.

  “I’ve been thinking that for a while now,” I muttered.

  “Look, we need to grab our gear and get the hell out of here,” Batfish said. “You can come with us or stay here with that psychopath woman, it’s up to you.”

  I had reservations about Chloe and Jimmy coming with us but I certainly didn’t want Alex tagging along. The guy was completely unpredictable and I had a suspicion he still cared for Maddie, deep down. I guessed he didn’t do anything about her behavior because he still harbored passionate feelings for her and couldn’t bring himself to put an end to her murderous shenanigans.

  Alex shook his head. “Ah, I don’t know. What about Davie and Mo and Mrs McMahon? I couldn’t just run out on them. Those two guys are almost brain dead, you know? They wouldn’t last long on their own.”

  I sighed loudly, feeling totally exhausted and exasperated. I didn’t give a crap about Davie and Mo or Mrs fucking McMahon. We couldn’t leave unless Smith’s condition had miraculously improved and it wouldn’t be a great idea to flee in darkness with a whole bunch of zombies waiting for us outside. Whichever way we looked at it, we were trapped in the castle, for the time being.

  “We better go and check on Smith, anyhow,” I said. “You do what you want, Alex.”

  I brushed by him and began to clamber up the staircase, briefly considering Alex might pull his shotgun on me and demand I accompany him to a dark cellar or some equally horrible place. My hand hovered over my handgun holster, just in case. He didn’t administer threats of any kind and the other three followed me up the steps. Alex briefly hung around the hallway before rushing off into the gloom.

  My mind turned over as I climbed the steps. I was shocked to the core at Alex and Chloe’s tales concerning Maddie. I turned to glance at Batfish and saw her face was ashen white with shock. She needed time to rest and let all the recent events sink in.

  I rapped on Smith’s bedroom door when we reached the landing, hoping the others were still alive and kicking inside.

  “Hello, it’s me, Brett,” I hollered.

  I heard the rattle of the key in the lock and Cordoba opened the door, with her M-9 handgun raised at head height. She lowered the weapon, glanced at each of us in turn and her face dropped as she saw our depressed and haggard expressions.

  “What the hell is up with you guys?” she asked.

  “You don’t want to know,” I groaned and shuffled through the doorway.

  Batfish, Chloe and Jimmy followed me into the room. Jimmy looked slightly nervous as Cordoba stared at him closely. Smith lay on his back in the bed with Wingate perched beside him on the corner of the mattress. I was glad to see some color had returned to his face and he looked a whole lot better. I slumped to the floor and sat with my back to the wall. Wingate glanced at me and flashed a brief, false smile.

  “So…?” Cordoba inquired, after locking the door. “What’s happened? Did you find Gera?”

  Batfish burst into tears and rested her forehead on Cordoba’s shoulder. Cordoba hugged her as Batfish let out her emotions in heaving, wailing sobs. Wingate and Cordoba exchanged worried glances before both of them looked straight at me, expecting an explanation.

  “Ah, Christ,” I croaked. My throat was dry and I was tired. Now I was going to have to recount everything we’d seen, heard and done over the last few hours. “This is Jimmy,” I said, pointing to the skinny young kid, who stood next to Chloe in the corner of the room. I introduced him to Wingate and Cordoba and told him who Smith was and what had happened to him.

  After briefly updating Jimmy on our current situation and introducing him, I launched into the long account of what had happened to Gera, the subsequent aftermath and the revelations spilled by Alex and Chloe. Naturally, Wingate and Cordoba were both visibly shocked and appalled at the events.

  “Anyhow, Smith’s looking better,” I croaked. “Any water? My throat is as dry as Death Valley.”

  “Yeah, I’ve given Smith some activated charcoal tablets,” Wingate explained. “Lucky I still had a couple of jars. They help absorb the toxins in his body.” A slight expression of embarrassment flashed over her face. “I use them to suck up bodily gas,” she admitted. “The tablets soak up the poison and he’ll hopefully be up and around real soon.”

  “That’s good,” I said. “What about the water?”

  Wingate sighed. “We haven’t got much left, Brett and I could do with some more for Smith. It seems those guys who took the rifles also took most of our water bottles.”

  “That’s great,” I sighed.

  Wingate looked at me expectantly with her eyebrows raised. Cordoba also shared the same expression as Batfish still cried and sniveled, resting on her shoulder.

  “What? I don’t get it,” I said.

  “We need some more water, Brett,” Cordoba repeated.

  The penny dropped. “Oh, you want me to go fetch some more, uh?” The last thing I wanted to do was go back out into the castle and snoop around but my friend needed fluids and I gagged for a drink of some kind.

  “All right, I’ll go,” I groaned, hauling myself to my feet. “I’ll get some water from the bathroom down the hall.”

  “Already tried,” Cordoba huffed. “The toilet flushes but the sink faucets don’t work, you’ll have to try someplace else.”

  I emitted a pained, groaning sigh and looked at Chloe. “Where’s the nearest operational water faucet from here?”

  Chloe thought for a moment. “Probably in the kitchen. I remember Alex said the taps in that bathroom were leaking and he was going to fix them but obviously didn’t get around to it. Look, I’ll come with you to the kitchen, if you like.”

  “Me too,” Jimmy piped up. “Safety in numbers and all that malarkey.”

  They both understandably felt a little uncomfortable in the room with Batfish wailing in grief like a banshee and Wingate tending to a sweaty, poisoned Smith.

  “All right, whatever,” I sighed. “Have we got a water container?”

  “There are loads of big five liter bottles down in the kitchen,” Chloe said. “We can grab a couple of those. I’m sure you and Jimmy can manage to carry one each.”

  “Och, aye, nay bother,” Jimmy said.

  “Excuse me?” Wingate asked Jimmy.

  “I think he meant yes,” I explained. Wingate clearly was having trouble deciphering the Glaswegian dialect. “Can either of you two handle a firearm?” I asked, knowing the answer before they replied.

  Chloe shook her head but Jimmy’s face lit up.

>   “Aye, I’ve never used one before but I’m sure I can handle it.”

  “No, Jimmy,” Chloe scolded. “You’ll end up killing yourself.”

  Jimmy looked disappointed but I agreed it wasn’t a good idea letting him loose with a loaded weapon. Smith or Cordoba would have to train him up at a later time, if he was going to join our ranks. I remembered how terrible I’d been when first using a firearm back in Brynston. Smith had found my appalling weapon handling skills a huge source of amusement back then.

  “Well, find something to arm yourselves with, just in case,” I instructed, checking my own M-9.

  Wingate handed Jimmy Smith’s U.S. Military issue, Ka-Bar sheathed knife. “You be damn careful with that thing,” she warned.

  Jimmy’s eyes lit up as he studied the weapon’s blade. Chloe searched around the room and picked up a short, cast iron poker from the fireplace. We were all set.

  “Okay, let’s go,” I said, moving towards the doorway.

  Cordoba muttered something to Batfish and pulled away from their embrace. I caught sight of poor Batfish’s tear streaked face and felt incredibly sorry for her. She’d lost somebody that she’d finally grown close to after all this time running and I guessed she’d felt reasonably safe with Gera at her side. I tried to swallow away the sorrowful lump in my throat. Not only did I feel bad for the loss of Gera but I also felt the pain of Batfish’s suffering.

  Cordoba unlocked and opened the door to let us out.

  “We’ll be back before you know it,” I muttered to her, while shuffling through the entrance. She nodded as Chloe and Jimmy followed me out into the landing.

  I held the M-9 at the ready as we descended the staircase, feeling the tension rack up with every step I took.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  I remembered the route to the kitchen, lighting the way with my flashlight and we didn’t encounter anybody else in the passageways or in the Great Hall.

  “So far, so good,” I whispered to Chloe, as we ascended the staircase to the dining area. I didn’t know if the other castle dwellers would be hostile towards us but I couldn’t take the risk. We had to be thoroughly on our guard.

  The dining area was deserted but the table was littered with a few dirty plates, leftover trays of food and empty wine glasses and bottles, some of which were tipped over on their sides. Red wine pooled from the bottles and glasses, staining the crisp, white table cloth. It seemed unusual to see the table in such a mess. The fire was dying low and the candles burned nearly to their bases. The whole room looked as though nobody had bothered house-keeping it for a while.

  We trod slowly and cautiously towards the kitchen. I led the way with my M-9 held in front of me and the flashlight alongside the gun barrel. The kitchen was in complete darkness as I bumped through the door. I shone the flashlight around the room and the beam reflected off the stainless steel countertops and cooker hoods.

  “Where are the water bottles, Chloe?” I asked, as I slowly edged further into the room.

  Chloe and Jimmy followed behind me.

  “They’re in the cabinet, in the corner,” Chloe whispered. “I’ll fetch them, if you want.”

  “All right,” I muttered. “But be careful.” From bitter past experiences, I didn’t like scrabbling around in dark rooms.

  Chloe strolled across the kitchen and I followed her with the flashlight beam, lighting her path. She reached out and grabbed the closet handle to open it up. I heard a metallic clattering behind me and instinctively swung around.

  “Watch out!” Jimmy screamed.

  I caught a brief glimpse of a hideous, screwed up face looming at me in the flashlight beam. The face was full of hate and anger, spittles of saliva rained onto my cheeks as the gruesome figure screeched out at me.

  I felt a searing, red hot pain shoot through my left shoulder, as though I’d been hit by a bolt of lightning. The flashlight fell from my grasp and I fired a wild shot that pinged into the ceiling as I fell backwards onto the tiled floor. The air in my lungs felt as though it was sucked away as I hit the ground with the figure on top of me. I lost my grip on the handgun and it clattered onto the tiles and slid away from me.

  Chloe and Jimmy screamed in terror. Jimmy was shouting something to me but I couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying, the pain in my shoulder was too intense. The flashlight rolled across the floor, partially illuminating the figure on top of me. I recognized the hate filled face as Mrs McMahon, although her features were contorted like a demon.

  “You killed my brother, you bastard,” she screeched and dug the knife point further into my shoulder.

  I yelled as the pain racked itself up another notch and I felt the steel tip skid across my collarbone. Mrs McMahon knelt with one knee on my chest and the other across my left arm. She tried to pin my right arm to the ground with her left hand but I managed to wrestle it away. She leaned closer to me and screamed into my face, pushing the knife blade further into my shoulder. I howled in pain again, as I felt the sharp tip rip right through my flesh and slice through the skin at the back of my shoulder. The knife blade had gone all the way through, severing its way through tissue, bone and sinew.

  “Get her off me. Get her off,” I yelled to Chloe and Jimmy.

  They didn’t immediately come to my aid. I didn’t know if they were both scared stiff and frozen by terror but they were my only hope of survival.

  Another burst of pain jolted through my body, accompanied by a sickening sucking noise as Mrs McMahon wrenched the sharp weapon out of my wound. She raised the kitchen knife above her head and the blood stained blade glinted in the flashlight beam. Droplets of my own blood dripped onto my face.

  I briefly glimpsed the crazed, murderous expression on her face, her eyes bulged and her mouth twisted in a crooked sneer. She was about to plunge the knife blade deep into my chest. I tried to pull her off me with my right arm, I grappled but I felt too weak and exhausted to complete the maneuver. Whatever Chloe and Jimmy could have done for me was going to be too late. I was a dead man.

  I clenched my teeth in a tight grimace, anticipating the intense pain I was about to briefly endure before the grasp of death plunged me into eternal darkness.

  They say your life flashes before you, the split second before you die. My experience was a series of jerky, still images, as though somebody was rapidly clicking through a whole bunch of photos on a computer screen in front of my eyes. Some of the images were comforting, happy times with my family and friends and life before the apocalypse, while other mental depictions were terrifying in equal measure. Visions of hundreds of mutilated corpses and snarling, rotting zombies flashed through my mind. Maybe death wasn’t such a bad thing. Perhaps it would be a release from the world full of pain and mental suffering. At least I was going to die in the knowledge I’d never be a walking corpse, confined to a sub-life of shuffling around in the search of human flesh, until I finally rotted and my body fell to pieces.

  Before the homicidal old bitch, Mrs McMahon could thrust the long kitchen knife through my heart, an incredibly loud booming sound exploded through the kitchen. The noise was so loud I was temporarily deafened. Mrs McMahon seemed to almost fly off the top of me and I was showered in warm, red liquid and a spongy, pulp like matter.

  I yelled in shock and agony but couldn’t hear myself due to the deafening noise. The silhouette of a slim female figure approached me from the gloom. My right hand instinctively clamped onto my injured shoulder and I fought against the pain. I hollered every profanity I could think of in a kind of mental combat against the scorching hot sensation throbbing through the left side of my torso, even though I couldn’t hear my own voice. The stab wound felt as though I’d been pierced by a red hot fire poker, but at least I wasn’t dead.

  The female figure hunkered down over me and her face was illuminated by the flashlight. Maddie said something inaudible and blew me a kiss, then raised herself back up. Was she going to try to kill me as well?

  I twisted around on my back
, trying to see what crazy Maddie was going to do next. She stood over the body of Mrs McMahon, holding the still smoking shotgun across her chest. I glanced back at my wound and saw blood seeping through my fingers. I’d have to get the gash seen to or I was going to bleed out. I twisted my head around and saw Maddie kick away the kitchen knife that lay next to Mrs McMahon’s corpse. I heard the knife skittle across the tiles as my hearing began to return.

  Loud screaming from each side of the kitchen attacked my audible perception as I regained my senses. I twisted my head to look around the room to try and make some sense of what was going on. Chloe was backed up against the water closet, bent over with tears streaming down her screwed up face and her mouth hung open while she continued yelling in terror. Jimmy was slumped against the wall in near darkness on the opposite side of the kitchen. I couldn’t see him clearly but he was howling like a scolded dog.

  “Silly old bitch,” Maddie spat and booted the side of Mrs McMahon’s prone, blood spattered body.

  I tried to sit up but the pain in my shoulder got the better of me and I collapsed onto my back again. I needed to find my handgun and somehow pick it up. Maddie was already reloading the shotgun, standing over the dead body. I didn’t know if she was going to fire at me or Chloe or Jimmy or all of us. Gritting my teeth and fighting against the pain, I roared in defiance, then grunted as I pushed myself onto my right side. I performed an unintentional impression of a new born deer as I tried desperately to haul myself to my feet. The pain was so bad I thought I was going to pass out at any moment. It wasn’t like in the movies when the hero gets stabbed multiple times and carries on as if nothing has happened. This injury hurt like nothing I’d ever endured before. On a scale of one to a shitload, the pain was way off the scale.

  Maddie snapped the shotgun barrels shut and tucked the weapon under her arm. She approached me with a smirk across her face, as I scrabbled around, attempting to stand. Chloe and Jimmy’s screeching had died down to constant whimpering.