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

by Christian Fletcher

  She looked at me with a worried expression on her face but reluctantly nodded. She knew what the consequences would be if we stayed inside the bedroom.

  “Smith would want us to try and get away,” I said, trying to sound reassuring.

  “I’ll try and wake him,” Wingate muttered.

  Cordoba loaded the remaining M-16 rifle and then started packing our gear into the backpacks. Jimmy gave her a hand and Batfish stirred and opened her eyes.

  “What’s going on?” she blearily asked.

  I brought her up to speed on our current state of affairs and she naturally looked shocked. She wearily stood up and began helping to pack the gear.

  “We better get our outdoor clothing on now,” Cordoba said. She handed out the parker coats, hoods and cold weather fatigues. “We may need them sooner than we think.” She handed a spare set to Jimmy.

  Wingate shook Smith gently at first then with increasing intensity.

  “Smith, wake up,” she barked.

  “Huh?...what?...son of a bitch,” Smith muttered, still half asleep. He eventually opened his eyes and glanced around the room, looking confused. “Where am I?” he croaked.

  Wingate gave him a drink of water while she explained our predicament. “Can you walk?” she asked, when she’d finished telling him what was going on.

  “Where’s Gera?” Smith spluttered, downing the water. “And who is that kid with Cordoba?”

  Wingate sighed and glanced at me. “We’ll tell you all about it later on. Can you walk, Smith? We have to go now.”

  “Yeah, of course I can walk,” Smith spat, throwing off the bed quilt. “I learned to walk when I was eight months old. I’m not about to forget how to do that.” He seemed a little agitated that we’d asked him if he could move. He dragged himself to his feet and stood woozily by the bed, rapidly blinking his eyes.

  “You okay?” Wingate asked.

  Smith swayed, standing in his underwear, looking like a drunken man with a bad hangover.

  “U-huh…just need a minute,” he croaked.

  I knew we had to allow Smith time to wake up and get his bearings but every second we stayed put, the zombies were getting a step closer.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  “Come on, Smith. We need to hurry,” I barked, clapping my hands together.

  “Brett, don’t be so mean,” Wingate snapped. “He’s just been poisoned.”

  “I know that but we have to go,” I groaned.

  Wingate wiped Smith’s face and torso down with a moist towel to freshen him up a little. Cordoba tossed over a set of clean combat fatigues and a set of cold weather gear.

  “We might get a little hot in this clothing but don’t take any of it off,” she instructed. “We can’t afford to come back for anything once we’re gone.”

  Jimmy was struggling to don his cold weather gear so Cordoba stepped in and helped him. I hurriedly dressed into my own foul weather clothing and Batfish had to help me pull on my jacket. I wasn’t looking forward to carrying a heavy backpack with the straps digging into my shoulder injury.

  Smith wobbled on his feet as Wingate hastily dressed him. He still looked half asleep and I was worried he wouldn’t have his wits about him while we were trying to escape the castle.

  “Christ, look at us,” I sighed. “A rag-tag bunch of walking wounded and the sick.”

  Wingate turned and glared at me. “Us women aren’t injured or sick, Wilde,” she snapped. “Have a little faith in your female companions, wont you? We can get you out of here just as easily as you and Smith could.”

  “Amen to that,” Cordoba chipped in.

  “Sorry I spoke,” I sighed and then yelped in pain as Batfish tightened the draw strings of my jacket around my neck. The parker’s material chaffed against my injury.

  “Think before you speak,” Batfish whispered in my face.

  I nodded. “All right, whatever, women rule, but can we please get going?”

  Smith looked and walked like the monster in those old black and white ‘Frankenstein’ movies, as we moved towards the bedroom door. Jimmy carried Gera’s backpack and I hoped the young lad would be able to cope under its weight. Batfish helped me slide on my own rucksack and I felt the stinging pain as the strap dug into my left shoulder. I groaned but knew I’d have to live with the pain. I helped Batfish tuck Spot into his harness around her waist.

  We couldn’t carry Smith’s pack as well but Cordoba had divided the gear up, so we all had a little extra to carry. Wingate slipped Smith’s near empty back pack across his shoulder’s and pulled the straps tight. The rucksacks were also a little lighter due to the absence of the spare ammunition and the wad of Smith’s cash. We’d have to leave with what we could carry. The remaining M-16, ammunition, cash and some of the food supplies would have to be forgotten about and classed as written off. Thankfully, Smith hadn’t remembered his money was still missing otherwise he’d try and go after it.

  “Everybody ready?” Cordoba asked, with her hand on the door handle. She carried one of the M-16s and Batfish reluctantly took the other rifle. I drew my M-9 handgun and held it at the ready. Wingate followed suit, Jimmy clutched onto the shotgun but Smith remained unarmed, still in no fit state to be up and around, let alone fire a weapon.

  We all mumbled or nodded and Cordoba opened the door.

  Wingate linked her arm with Smith’s and led him across the landing. The moans of the undead already inside the castle, drifted up the staircase from the floors below.

  “Jesus, they must be close to us already,” Batfish whispered.

  “I have a bad feeling Maddie’s leading them right here,” I groaned.

  “We’d better hurry,” Cordoba hissed. “We don’t want to be trapped on that stairway.” She cautiously led the way down the steps.

  The shrieks and moans of the undead grew louder as we descended. Smith bumped down the steps, struggling to coordinate himself. The backpacks weighed heavy and felt cumbersome as we tried to negotiate the narrow staircase. I was sweltering hot inside the padded cold weather gear and my shoulder wound stung like a bastard.

  I turned to Jimmy as we gathered in the hallway below the staircase. “Do you know of any other routes we can take to bypass the Great Hall?” I asked. “Any alternative passageways we can use?”

  Jimmy shook his head. “The other walkways and corridors are like spider’s webs but they dinnae’ start until you get by the Great Hall.”

  “Shit,” I spat. “We’ll just have to carry on through.” I had a sudden thought. “If any of us get separated, we’ll meet up at the golf clubhouse, outside the castle grounds.”

  We agreed on the designated meeting point and continued through the dark corridor. Cordoba led the way. She’d attached the flashlight to her M-16 so she could guide the way with both hands on the assault rifle. The flashlight would possibly attract the undead but stumbling around in the dark would be even more hazardous.

  I hoped we wouldn’t have to encounter any zombies while we were moving through the corridors. Loud gunshots would echo through the passageways and attract the zombies like flies to horse shit. We had a fighting chance of survival outside in the open but our chances of escape from the confines of the castle were going to be virtually impossible if we were caught in the narrow corridors.

  We turned a right angled corner, with Cordoba’s flashlight lighting the flaking white paint along the wood paneled walls. She quickly moved the light straight ahead when we heard a hoarse groaning noise. Two gray skinned, half rotting creatures lurched through the darkness towards us. The flashlight beam picked out and reflected into their milky white eyes. Their mouths hung open in snarling grimaces, exposing blackened teeth and puss ridden gums. They reached out into the light and I noticed their hands were gray and missing chunks of flesh around the knuckles and the palms.

  Cordoba fired two shots. Each round perfectly pierced each zombie’s forehead amid a spray of brown gunk. They both went down, slithering down the walls on either side
of the corridor.

  We moved forward, stepping over the two bodies. Smith nearly fell when he trod on a flailing, dead arm and lost his balance. Wingate and Jimmy caught hold of him before he went over.

  “Shit, who left that crap there?” he muttered.

  I wondered if he was delirious or suffering from hallucinations. Wearing the cold weather gear wouldn’t help his condition and I questioned how the hell we were going to get him out of the castle in one piece.

  “Keep going,” Wingate whispered.

  We followed the passageway to the entranceway of the Great Hall. Cordoba ducked back into the passageway and told us to stop.

  “There are at least twenty of them in the Great Hall,” she hissed.

  “We’ll have to go through them,” I said. “The route to the back entrance of the castle is through the Great Hall, to the right. That’s how we came in, remember Batfish?”

  She nodded. “I’m sure we can get through there, if we’re real quick.”

  “I’ll lead the way,” I said. “I can remember the way.”

  “All right,” Cordoba agreed. “Lead the way, G.I. Joe.”

  “Cover me with those rifles, if I need it,” I said. “Get Smith through as quickly as possible.”

  Wingate nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Okay, let’s do it,” I hissed.

  “Go for it, kid,” Smith mumbled, although I doubted he was aware of why he was encouraging me.

  I rounded the corner in a crouching motion and moved into the Great Hall. Numerous candles still burned around the room and the wall mounted oil lanterns cast an orange glow across the floor space. A quick head count told me there were around two dozen undead milling around the room. Some zombies tried to mount the staircase to the dining hall, probably stimulated by the smell of Mo and Chloe’s fresh corpses. I edged slowly further into the room, heading towards the corridor leading to the rear entrance.

  I was about to turn and wave the others forward when a burst of gunfire rattled from above and rounds peppered the floor around me. I half rolled, wincing as I jarred my shoulder and turned at the same time. Davie stood on the balcony above me with the remaining M-16 rifle in his hands and a mad grin on his still bloodied face. He’d pulled the wine glass stem out from his cheek and a huge band aid spread across his face, stuck over the wound.

  “I’ll kill yah, yah bastard,” he yelled, trying to reload the M-16 with another magazine.

  The zombies inside the Great Hall turned with interest at the sound of gunfire. Davie clicked the new magazine into place and took aim at me. I hauled myself up and rushed towards the corridor where the others waited before he could fire another shot.

  “What the hell was all that firing?” Cordoba hissed.

  “It’s fucking Davie,” I gasped. “He’s up on the balcony with that other M-16. He’s pinning us down so we can’t get out of here.”

  Cordoba glanced back at Jimmy. “Is there another way up to that balcony?”

  “No’ from here,” he replied. “You’d have to go up a level and to do that you’d have to go through the dining hall and follow the corridor near the staircase to the next tower.”

  “Ah, fuck that, we’d never make it in the dark” I spat. “Listen, he’s not a very good shot. I reckon if I can get to some cover in there, I can fire on his position and keep him occupied while you guys sneak through to the passageway to the outside entrance.”

  “But there’s all those zombies in there, Brett,” Batfish squawked.

  “They’re on their way over in this direction, anyhow,” I hurriedly explained. “We’re going to have to make a move, one way or another.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Cordoba agreed.

  “Give me that rifle,” I said to Batfish. “You lead the way and I’ll meet you at the clubhouse if I get bogged down.”

  “Just make sure you get there, Brett,” Batfish sighed, handing over the M-16.

  I slung the rifle over my right shoulder and gripped the handgun, double checking the safety was off.

  Cordoba handed me a couple of spare, full magazines. “If you don’t make it to the clubhouse, we’re not coming back for you.”

  “Thanks, honey,” I sighed.

  She touched my face with her hand. “Well, go on then, do your thing,” she said.

  I forced a smile and nodded.

  “Don’t fuck up,” Cordoba instructed, opening her eyes wide. She was never one for smoochy talk.

  Gritting my teeth in determination and fighting against the pain in my shoulder, I sprung out from the corridor. Several zombies already crowded around the entrance to the corridor. I punched one in the face and pistol whipped another away. Dodging the remaining zombies, I headed quickly beneath the corridor walkway and into the Great Hall itself.

  Davie opened fire almost immediately. A few zombies dropped to the floor around me but no rounds pierced my body. I rushed towards the big stone fireplace, pushing zombies out of my way. The fireplace jutted outwards into the room and would provide adequate cover from the balcony if I could reach the far side.

  A few 5.56 mm rounds ricocheted off the stonework above my head, causing stone chips to blast into my face, as I ducked down and rounded the perimeter of the fireplace. I slammed myself against the side wall of the fireplace, my backpack absorbing the impact. Some of the zombies in the room lurched towards me, reaching out with their arms while moaning expectantly. I aimed my M-9 at the one nearest to me and blasted off a shot, hitting the creature directly between the eyes. The emaciated male zombie’s head rocked back and he toppled over onto the floor.

  Davie yelled more obscenities and fired off another couple of rounds, which pinged off the fireplace stones. I glanced around the side of the inglenook and saw Cordoba and Batfish battering their way through the few zombies gathered around the corridor entrance beneath the balcony. Wingate and Jimmy led Smith around the passageway corner and stood in the doorway. I’d have to immediately provide them with cover, as they couldn’t stay where they were for much longer.

  I crouched down beside the corner of the fireplace wall and reached around the side, aiming my handgun roughly at Davie’s position. He roared in defiance when I fired three or four shots, which all missed him.

  He returned fire and the rounds zipped into the fireplace hearth, sending a spray of red embers across the room. Luckily for me, the glowing embers seemed to confuse the zombies around me. They stopped and watched the red cinders scatter across the floor.

  I stuffed the M-9 into my holster inside my jacket and pulled the M-16 rifle from my shoulder. I needed a weapon with a more rapid rate of fire. Selecting the three round burst mode, I then leaned around the corner and let fly with a couple of blasts, trying to aim on Davie’s position as best I could.

  “Go for it, run,” I yelled to Cordoba and Batfish across the room. I fired another two bursts at the balcony, counting the number of rounds I’d used. Each of the assault rifle magazines held thirty rounds each so I’d have to be careful not to run out of ammunition.

  Cordoba and Batfish rushed from beneath the balcony. Wingate and Jimmy followed closely behind, dragging Smith with them. Cordoba twisted and fired a few rounds at the balcony as they ran to the corridor to their right. I opened up again, hoping the covering fire would be sufficient enough to prevent Davie from obtaining a decent aim at any of us. Smith was a big, slow target and he’d be the easiest one to pick off from his position.

  Davie ducked down behind the protection of the plaster and brick walled balcony every time I fired at his position. Most of my shots were too low, hitting the wall below Davie.

  The zombies surrounding the rest of my party, grabbed at them as they rushed by. They managed to bat them away as they made a path through to the passageway. Smith jogged along, hauled forward with a daft smile on his face. I hoped that crazy bastard would make it out alive.

  I fired another three round burst at the balcony and turned to see the others disappear into the darkness of the cor
ridor on the opposite side of the Great Hall. They’d made it to the passageway but still had to reach the exterior door. At least they were on the right path out of the place.

  I faced a more difficult challenge, however. The undead were closing in on me and I had an armed assailant waiting for me to break cover.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  I turned the small lever on the M-16 to ‘single shot’ so I could take out a few more of the approaching zombies. I pressed myself backwards against the wall beside the fireplace and shot three zombies with one round expended on each ghoul.

  “They’re gonna get you, they’re gonna get you,” Davie gleefully sang from the balcony. The amusement and scorn was evident in his voice.

  I felt like telling the guy to fuck off but unfortunately, he was right. If I didn’t get out of that shadowy corner, I’d be overrun. I had to make a break for it. Davie didn’t seem like he was going anywhere soon, so I’d have to run for the opposite passageway under fire. I’d been lucky so far but I didn’t know how long I could rely on Davie’s bad aim or how much ammunition he had left. Maybe I could talk him out of our stand-off and tell him to save himself. No time, the crowd of zombies was far too close for comfort. I’d be lucky to break away unscathed if I waited much longer.

  A sudden shouting alerted my attention to my left. The zombies surrounding me also turned to view the source of the sudden new noise. Alex hurtled down the staircase from the dining room, carrying a whisky bottle in each hand with a flaming wick shoved in their necks. He had a shotgun inside a carrying case strapped to his back and his long hair flailed behind him as he ran down the steps, knocking grasping zombies out of his path.

  “They’re all over the fucking castle,” he yelled, over and over.

  “Alex? What the fuck are ya doin’?” Davie shouted from the balcony.

  Alex ignored Davie, He seemed incensed and panic stricken. His eyes bulged and his face was fixed in a contorted, teeth clenching grimace. The bunch of zombies seemed more interested in the new, noisy prey than me and turned in immediate pursuit. Davie fired a few shots at the zombies approaching Alex and two or three went down under the gunfire.