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

by Christian Fletcher

  Davie looked a little sheepish and glanced away from my glare.

  “And you locked Chloe in the cellar before and tried to rape her, didn’t you?” I continued.

  “Shut up,” he barked, glancing nervously between Maddie and Mo.

  “That’s probably why you shot her, to silence her for good,” I hissed, realizing I was doing a good job of making Davie feel uncomfortable.

  “It’s not true,” Davie yelled. “You’re making up shite to try and make me look bad in front of Maddie.” His eyes bulged and trickles of sweat ran down his forehead.

  “No, Davie, you are a god damn pervert and probably never had a woman in your life and now the world has gone to shit, you think you can do exactly what you like, to who you like.”

  I hoped I wasn’t going too far. I had to get Davie to the brink of his temper before he shot me. If I could get him riled enough, I might be able to lure him towards me so I could stick him with the wine glass stem and attempt to get hold of the M-16 somehow. It was a long shot, I knew that. But I didn’t have many options. I’d either be shot by these two goons or be kept as a slave by Maddie. Then they’d probably go for an all out assault on Smith’s room.

  Davie growled, his top lip curled up in a snarl and he spun the M-16 around so he held the barrel. I guessed he was going to try and club me with the rifle butt.

  “Davie, no!” Maddie squawked, also anticipating what he was going to do.

  I gripped the wine glass stem with my right hand. The jagged tip pointed through my first two fingers and I clutched the circular base in the palm of my hand. Davie raised the rifle above his head with a crazed expression on his face and his eyes bulging in anger. I knew I’d have to be quick if I was going to pull off my counter attack. He hesitated in a dilemma, considering whether to batter me or not. He was itching to bring the rifle butt down on my skull but Maddie had commanded him not to, which was the only thing stopping him.

  Out the corner of my eye, I noticed the kitchen door open slightly. I doubted whether it was the headless corpse of Mrs McMahon, miraculously returned from the dead but strange things happen.

  Jimmy pushed open the kitchen door further. He held my M-9 in his hand, pointing it at Mo sideways on, like they used to do in the last few gang-style movies they made. He’d obviously watched too many of those stupid TV shows and movies. Smith had told me, if you fire a semi-automatic handgun in that manner, you were likely to get a face full of red hot spent cartridges. I’d already taken the safety off so unless the M-9 had been tampered with, it was ready to fire.

  Davie, Maddie and Mo were so focused on me amid my altercation that they didn’t notice Jimmy in the kitchen doorway. At first, I thought he was maybe going to yell a warning for the others to drop their weapons. But he didn’t.

  Jimmy fired off a round, which slammed into the side of Mo’s neck. The crack of gunfire echoed around the dining hall, causing Davie, Maddie and myself to instinctively duck our heads. The recoil of the M-9 caused Jimmy’s arms to jolt above his head and the spent brass cartridge luckily pinged away into the kitchen behind him.

  Mo jolted to his left, dropped the M-16 rifle and fell onto his back clutching his throat. Blood pulsed between his fingers as he gurgled for breath. His eyes were wide in shock and his face rapidly drained of color.

  The sudden commotion was the diversion I needed. Davie and Maddie both swiveled their heads around to the source of the gunfire. Davie fumbled with the rifle, trying to twist it back around to the correct firing position. Maddie raised the shotgun up to her waist with her finger on the triggers, twisting around to face the kitchen doorway. The M-9 recoil had thrown Jimmy off balance and he slumped against the doorframe. He fired another shot but the round went high and wide, burying itself in the ceiling.

  Plaster dust from the bullet hole rained from above. Davie was slightly in front of Maddie, blocking her line of fire. He turned the rifle over in his hands and lifted it to aim at Jimmy. I took one stride step forward, bringing up my right arm in a jabbing motion. Davie didn’t see my fist until it was too late. The sharp point at the top of the wine glass stem pierced the side of his face. I felt the glass spike puncture his cheek and continue through his upper set of teeth. Blood gushed from his wound, covering my hand. He tried to scream through the blood filling his mouth and several broken teeth. I twisted the base of the stem to increase the severity of the injury. I’d never felt I was a cruel or spiteful person but I felt so at that moment.

  Davie immediately dropped the M-16 and lurched away from me. He barged into Maddie, causing her to accidently fire the shotgun at a low angle. The boom of the cartridge roared through the dining hall and the shot blew off the toes on Davie’s right foot. A combination of blood and bone fragments erupted around us. Davie gargled in agony and fell backward, knocking Maddie to the floor beneath him.

  I reached down and scooped up the M-16, then retreated towards the kitchen. I covered Maddie and Davie with the rifle as I moved, stopping next to Mo to pick up the M-16 on the ground beside him. He still held his throat and took a few more labored, gurgling breaths before he went totally still and silent. I could barely hold the rifle with my left hand due to the shoulder injury but I carried it to the doorway as I scuttled backwards. I leaned the spare M-16 against the wall beside the door frame.

  Jimmy managed to regain his balance and moved beside me, still holding the handgun out in front of him. I reached over and twisted the M-9 in his grip, so it was in the correct firing position.

  “Well done, Jimmy,” I muttered.

  Davie thrashed around on the ground in agony and Maddie screamed muffled obscenities while she tried to free herself from underneath his bulk. The shotgun had fallen from her grasp and lay on the floor beside them. Jimmy saw it too and made a dash for the weapon.

  “Jimmy, stay back,” I warned.

  Jimmy didn’t listen. He rushed towards the shotgun, dodging by Chloe and Mo’s corpses. He kept the M-9 trained on Davie and Maddie and scooped up the shotgun from the floor then hurried back beside me. I took the shotgun and leaned against the wall next to the other M-16.

  Maddie finally freed herself from underneath Davie. She sprang to her feet, glaring at me with a menacing snarl.

  “This is your last chance, Brett,” she spat. “You put that gun down and come with me now or you can forget about us ever having a relationship.”

  I shook my head. “It ‘aint ever going to happen, Maddie, so forget it.”

  Her face dropped and I thought she was going to burst into tears. Then the anger, rage and insanity engulfed her. She screamed in an elongated ear splitting, high pitched shriek, as though she was in pain. Her face reddened and contorted. Her eyes bulged and her lips curled back over her gums, then she bit the air in front of her. For one horrible moment, I thought she was going to transform into some kind of demon.

  “You’ll regret this, Brett Wilde,” she screeched, pointing a finger at me. “You don’t know what you’ve done. You’re going to remember this when you’re in your last living moments.”

  I considered shooting her there and then but knew I’d feel bad if I killed an unarmed woman, even if she was a murdering psychopath.

  “I’m going to kill all of you,” Maddie screamed. She turned and stomped out of the dining room and down the staircase.

  Davie kept wailing in pain and pushed himself to a stooping position. “Maddie, help me,” he called, as she disappeared down the stairway. He hobbled after her, stumbling and nearly falling down a few times.

  “Do you want me to take care of him?” Jimmy asked, gesturing with the handgun.

  I briefly considered it but decided to let him go. “No, Jimmy. Let him be. There’s been too much killing in this place lately.” I watched Davie stumble down the steps, still groaning in agony. I turned back to Jimmy. “Go fetch the water, will you? Then we need to get the fuck out of here, before that crazy bitch comes after us.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Jimmy came back out f
rom the kitchen carrying two five liter water bottles. I took back my M-9 handgun and he slung the rifles over each of his shoulders and carried the shotgun as well as the water bottles. I felt bad he was carrying the majority of the load but I didn’t have the strength to lug the guns up the stairs to our room.

  I searched Mo’s pockets and took any spare magazines and ammunition he had on him. His body was pale and still and his open eyes remained fixed on the ceiling.

  “We’re still missing one of the M-16 rifles,” I muttered. “Davie will probably hand it over to Maddie so we need to be on our guard.”

  The candles in the dining room had burned down to almost nothing and we didn’t have much time before they’d burn themselves out. The logs in the fireplace had almost turned completely to ash and the air became increasingly colder.

  “We better get a move on,” I muttered.

  Jimmy trotted behind me, struggling slightly to carry the load. Cordoba met us halfway up the staircase. She saw us and her face dropped with concern.

  “What the hell happened to you, Brett? You’ve been gone for so long, I came to look for you. I heard gunfire, what was going on down there?” She took one of the water bottles and the shotgun from Jimmy. “You’re covered in blood, are you hurt?”

  “We had a little altercation with the rest of the castle dwellers,” I groaned. “At least we got the rifles back though. Well, two of them anyhow.”

  Several candles lit Smith’s room when we finally reached our temporary command base. Wingate was still perched on the side of the bed and gasped at the state of me when we stumbled through the doorway. Batfish was slumped in the corner of the room sleeping, leaning with her back against the wall. Smith was asleep in his bed.

  “What happened to you?” Wingate asked.

  “We had a little trouble getting the water,” I sighed. “It took us a bit longer than we expected.”

  Jimmy and Cordoba put the water bottles next to the bed. Cordoba took the M-16 rifles from Jimmy and checked them before unloading.

  “When will Smith be fit to leave here?” I asked.

  “He’s recovering okay, as soon as he’s up and around I guess,” she answered.

  “I think we might have to leave here as soon as we can,” I sighed. Then I launched into the details of the events that had happened since we’d left to collect the water.

  Wingate redressed my wound but commented on what a good job Jimmy had done to temporarily patch me up. I used a towel soaked in some of the water to clean Mrs McMahon’s blood and skull fragments off my face and out of my hair. Jimmy slouched down onto the floor, leaning against the wall opposite the bed.

  “That Maddie sounds a real nasty piece of work,” Cordoba said, when I’d concluded my account.

  “I don’t know what she’s capable of,” I sighed. “She threatened to kill us all.” I was beginning to wish I’d simply shot her and put an end to her homicidal shenanigans.

  “So, how many hostiles are left inside the building?” Wingate asked.

  I thought for a moment, I couldn’t remember who was alive and who was dead. “Three, including Alex. I don’t know if he’s with us or against us and Davie is badly injured so it’s Maddie who remains the main threat.” I perched on a rickety looking stool next to the window.

  “Never underestimate an attacking force,” Cordoba said.

  “What a shame about poor Chloe,” Wingate sighed. “She seemed a nice girl.”

  “Yeah, she was,” I groaned.

  I noticed Cordoba had collected all our strewn clothing and equipment together and piled it up next to the rucksacks. I changed into some clean combat fatigues and dumped the torn bloodied ones I’d previously been wearing.

  “So what are our plans now?” I asked.

  “Well, we’ll have to see how Smith is tomorrow, I guess,” Wingate said. “If he’s okay, we’ll try and get out of here at first light in the morning.”

  “What time is it now?” I asked, stifling a yawn.

  Wingate looked at her watch. “Nearly two a.m.”

  “We’d better keep watches,” Cordoba suggested. “We’re sitting ducks if we all sit in this room. Don’t forget, they’ve still got one of our rifles. They could fire a burst of rounds straight through that door. The best vantage point would be on the landing, at the top of the staircase.”

  “Good point,” Wingate said. “We’d better divide the watches between the three of us. Let’s leave Batfish out of this roster.”

  We glanced at Batfish, who still slept in the corner.

  “She’s had a terrible shock,” Wingate concluded.

  I really didn’t feel like sitting around on the landing, waiting for Maddie and/or Davie to attack but somebody had to do it.

  “I don’t mind taking a turn,” Jimmy volunteered.

  Wingate smiled. “We’ll be okay, Jimmy. I need you in here to keep an eye on Smith and Batfish. With your first aid skills, we’ll make a medic out of you yet.”

  Jimmy grinned and looked slightly embarrassed.

  “I’ll do the first shift,” Cordoba said, picking up one of the M-16 rifles. She reloaded the weapon, checked her sidearm and headed towards the door. “I’ll holler if I hear anything,” she said before exiting the bedroom.

  I reached for my cigarettes and lit one up.

  “Brett, what are you thinking? We’ve got a sick man, here. He doesn’t need to be breathing in that crap,” Wingate scolded. “Put that damn thing out.”

  “He’d probably enjoy it,” I mumbled in protest, stamping on the partially smoked cigarette.

  A grinding sound from outside caught my attention. I glanced out the window but couldn’t see anything in the darkness. I rose from the stool and peered into the blackness, leaning close to the glass panes.

  “What’s that noise?” I hissed.

  Jimmy joined me at the window and Wingate and I exchanged concerned glances. The clouds in the night sky parted and the full moon dimly illuminated the front entrance of the castle.

  “Oh, shite,” Jimmy gasped.

  I didn’t notice what he’d spotted at first and when I observed what he’d seen, I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  The moon light shone over a blonde haired female beside the castle’s portcullis gateway entrance. I recognized the crazed grimacing features and tense body language. Maddie was carrying out her ultimate revenge. She was struggling with the huge wooden wheel situated waist height against the frame but she turned it in a counterclockwise direction and the huge gateway was rising. The gathered crowd of undead outside the castle moaned in anticipation of a feed. They reached beneath the rising portcullis, slithering through the snow on the ground.

  “Bloody hell!” Jimmy spat. “She’s letting those dead bastards in.”

  “What?” Wingate rasped, springing off the edge of the bed and hurtling to the window. She stood behind us, craning her neck to see out the window. “What the hell is that crazy woman doing?”

  “She said she was going to kill us all,” I sighed. “But I didn’t think she’d sink to this level.” I’d proved myself right. There was no telling what Maddie was going to do next. She’d obviously realized she was outgunned and wouldn’t be able to draw us away individually, so she’d resorted to using the undead to accomplish her retribution.

  “What are we going to do?” I asked. “If we stay in here, we’ll be trapped.”

  “We better get Cordoba back in here,” Wingate said.

  I recognized the panic in her voice. This situation was a turn of events I defiantly hadn’t expected. Jimmy moved quickly to the door and stuck his head out into the landing. I heard his muffled voice explaining the situation to Cordoba and she rushed into the room and joined us at the window.

  “What the hell is that crazy bitch doing?” she yelled.

  “She’s letting a shite load of trouble in,” Jimmy groaned.

  The portcullis had risen to around five feet from the ground.
At least two dozen zombies had already crawled into the castle grounds beneath the gateway. Maddie stopped turning the operational wheel, obviously deciding she’d opened the portcullis high enough. She secured the mechanism so the gateway stayed in place, turned and ran back towards the castle. More zombies poured through the open entranceway, following Maddie to the main structure.

  “Oh, shit, they’re heading this way,” I wailed. “We need to make a move.”

  “Smith is still sick,” Wingate protested. “We might make him worse if we try and move him.”

  “We’ll all die if we stay here,” I groaned. “We need to pack up our gear and get out of here.”

  “Brett, it is two a.m. in the morning, it is freezing cold outside and it is dark, where are we going to go?” Wingate wailed.

  I racked my brains for an alternative solution. Barricading ourselves in our room against a gun totting enemy was one thing but trying to flee the castle while it was full of zombies was going to prove difficult. My mind raced between alternative scenarios. If we stayed put we’d never get out. If we left now we’d leave ourselves exposed to the elements and still have to fight our way through countless undead. If I made a rash decision, I was likely to get us all killed by either bullet or bite.

  “Is Smith able to walk?” I asked.

  “I doubt it,” Wingate said, shaking her head. “He still needs rest.”

  I sighed in frustration and ducked my head, gazing at the floor. Maddie had certainly fucked us over. No doubt she’d lure the zombies towards our position. There was one way down from the tower and if the narrow staircase was blocked by a gang of undead, we’d be trapped. Zombies weren’t the best climbers in the world but they would eventually negotiate the stairway and find their way up to us. We didn’t have enough food between us to last for a long waiting campaign. We’d slowly starve to death up in the damn tower. I came to a snap decision.

  “We have to move now,” I growled at Wingate. “We have to get Smith up and move him otherwise we’ll be stuck up here with no way of escaping.”