Hellspawn (Book 1)

by Fleet, Ricky

  Chapter 19

  The sense of despair and helplessness was slowly being replaced with a sense of purpose, a need for action. They had seen the worst atrocities committed by beings that had no conscience or remorse, just an insatiable hunger for flesh. Their faith in the authorities to protect them had been misplaced. In a way this was unfair because the events were so surreal, so out of this world crazy, that no one would have ever countenanced it happening. Denial of the facts would be suicide, however, it was happening and they could sit and wait, or try and help the occupants of the mystery house.

  It seemed fate was on their side, the dismal grey of autumn had broken, albeit probably not for long. The sun was a dazzling ball of incandescence, the moist ground bled mist in undulating swirls. The scene was eerie, the mist lending an almost Hammer Horror appearance to the shuffling masses of rotting dead. The fields and forests were blanketed with it, the zombies walking to and fro, there one minute, gone the next. John knew that in time it would clear and their task would be made easier, the lack of vision no longer an obstacle. He had set the vice and grinding wheel up in the attic workshop. The sun was providing a steady current which ensured the fridge was running properly, the potential damage to the motor not being an issue today. The surplus energy was sufficient to spin the wheel fast enough to file the steel. Taking the tube, he placed a folded towel on the anvil plate of the vice, as well as over the pipe itself. He wanted to deaden as much of the noise as possible, but with each blow the vibrations travelled through the fabric of the house like a tuning fork. It was pointless to worry, and through the hammering, he heard the sound of the zombies as they investigated this new disturbance, their own blows mimicking his.

  “Sam, Braiden, carry on what I have shown you. Flatten the pipes and then carefully file them to a point. Use the safety glasses for the sparks and flecks of steel,” John instructed them after showing exactly how to carry out the tasks. “I’m going down the other end of the attic. If we can draw them away from the house across the road, we will be much safer if we decide to break cover and investigate.”

  It made sense to the boys and they set to work carefully, the lesson in the dangers of the tools not wasted on them. John was so proud. They had really stepped up to the plate where many would have crumbled.

  John crouched and ducked through each of the holes they had made before reaching the final house. Using a claw hammer, he broke through the roof tiles, creating a section ten feet wide by six feet high. Any rain would now enter the property, but it couldn’t be helped, the pressing need to thin the horde was paramount. He clutched the roof beams and leaned forward to get a better view, which caused excitement among the zombies close enough to see. The openness of the roof worried him. He could see that it would be very easy to be toppled over the edge by an errant throw or the mistimed pull of a zombie on the chain. He decided on a framework that he would fit at waist height to the rafters, giving a solid barrier to the task at hand. He made his way back to collect the timber, saw and nails and was happy to see that the tubes were near completion, the points sharp and deadly.

  “Come here Sam. While I fix the railing for us, I need you to drill holes in the other end. This is where we will attach the chain.” John proceeded to demonstrate how to drill through the metal, taking it slow until the bit had dug in and then increasing speed to penetrate. Sam then carried on where John had left off, putting his goggles on and drilling with care and attention.

  The preparations were soon complete, the timber roof frame was in place to prevent them falling. The steel tubes had been sharpened and chained to the rafters to allow them to be drawn back up after throwing. Braiden had also brought the slingshot and was itching to try the ammunition on the walking corpses below.

  “Any room for us?” asked Sarah, who was stood there with Gloria just inside the attic partition wall. She had been so quiet, and their attention had been so fixated on the panorama below, that they nearly jumped clean out of the roof in surprise.

  “Sorry, we didn’t mean to startle you,” Gloria apologised.

  “Blimey!” John held his chest in mock pain. “My old heart can’t take many more shocks like that!”

  “I’m sure it will take a lot more than a few scares to finish you off,” said Gloria as she winked at him.

  Braiden was tugging at the leather pouch, getting used to the new weapon.

  “Have you ever fired one before?” asked Gloria.

  “No Miss, I mean Gloria,” Braiden spluttered, it was still strange to be calling a teacher by their first name.

  “Here, let me show you.” She reached out and took it from him, pulling the pouch and inspecting the rubber banding. “That’s good; the rubber is soft and supple. The last thing you want is for it to snap and take your eye out.”

  Braiden looked at the slingshot with mistrust, he had assumed he just pulled and let go of it, he didn’t want to lose an eye. Gloria took a bearing and held the slingshot at arm’s length, placed the ball in the leather cup, and pulled it back to her face.

  “Now look, you use the stretched band to aim by. Hold your arm steady and when you have your target, release it gently.” She had chosen a figure in the crowd, roughly twenty five feet away. They all held their breath and watched in amazement. She took a breath, and released the cup with an almighty twang. The bearing hit the zombie in the head, grazed the skull, and took a large section of scalp with it into the distance.

  “Hmm, I think the bearing was too light or it would have broken through the skull. Do you have any heavier than that?” Gloria asked.

  “Yeah, we have these ones.” He produced a ball twice the diameter and more than double the weight.

  “Excellent, you should practice with the light ones and when comfortable, use the heavier ones to inflict the killing blows. I should think the, how shall we say it, older specimens may be vulnerable to the smaller balls as their bones would be more brittle,” Gloria informed them. It seemed a reasonable assumption that they would put to the test.

  “Ok, so how do we get their attention?” Sarah asked. Gloria stepped forward, inserted two fingers into her mouth, and let rip with an ear piercing wolf whistle that most construction workers would have been proud to claim as their own. They stood there, mouths gaping for a few seconds, amazed at this lady and her many surprises.

  “I think that may have got their attention, look.” John pointed, and it was plain to see that the zombies from as much as several hundred feet were making their way over. He looked over the barrier and, to their relief; the dead were also making their way around the row of houses towards the waiting trap. The way would be much safer for the potential attempt to reach the other survivors.

  They stood in silence, lined up close to the timber barricade and looking down on the approaching horde. The numbers were close to two hundred, with stragglers arriving here and there. The survivors could have been stage performers, or pop stars, their adoring audience whipped into a frenzy of waving arms. The dead weren’t reaching in adulation, desperate for the faintest touch of their idol; they wanted to rend them shrieking and bloody. A chorus of pandemonium rose and hit them like a physical blow, the guttural inhuman moans shaking them to their core.

  John lifted the iron spear like a javelin and launched it downwards towards the crush of bodies. It missed completely and went down between several of the dead, the chain pulling taut as it struck the lawn and embedded itself into the ground. They watched to see if the zombies would be interested in the weapon and chain, but their attention was riveted on the live meat standing in the roof. Braiden was getting closer to the head with each shot, he picked out a wet, festering zombie and took aim. Releasing the leather pouch, the ball sunk into the jellied flesh with a small plop, much like the sound of a drop of water falling from a tap into a sink. Each subsequent shot brought him nearer to the skull, until one lucky strike went through the white eye and into the brain. With another green splash of viscous liquid, the body fell. A cheer went up from
the survivors at the victory, and they commenced with the bombardment. The steel spears were raised and released, dropping with sufficient force to tear arms free at the shoulder and rip whole chunks of face clean from the heads.

  John pulled the tube back up, the chain proving invaluable in saving their scarce resources. It was clogged with flesh and viscera between the links and the pipe itself was drenched with green tinged blood. They had hurriedly put rubber gloves on to protect themselves from any possible infection that the blood and guts may contain. Aiming once more, he threw the spear. It sailed downwards and took the entire left side of the head off from the zombie. Sarah had recovered hers and launched it again, the weapon took the glaring zombie in the chest and pinned it to the ground. At times it looked like an entomologist’s nightmare, the writhing, pinned zombies resembling insects on a board. Sam was not having much luck, the weight of the steel tiring him quickly and causing him to miss often. Braiden could see the frustration in his face and, with the help of Gloria, instructed him in the use of the slingshot. Sam was a natural. The first attempt went awry while he got the basics of aiming, but his second shot was devastating. The three quarter inch bearing ruptured straight through the forehead and shattered through the back of the skull in a welter of blood and rotting brain matter. The body dropped like a stone, leaking fluid still escaping both holes.

  “Way to go Sam!” cried Braiden, acknowledging the skill of the shot. “Here, take the rest of the ball bearings. I will have a go with the spear.”

  Braiden and Sam swapped positions, and the attack continued. Sarah took careful aim and let hers drop instead of throwing it, the accuracy was much improved and the zombie was pierced through the top of its skull and down through the body cavity. Sarah and John tried to pull it free, but the spear was embedded so deep within the corpse it bounced and danced like a marionette. Slowly it came out; inch by inch, withdrawn like a huge, bloodied, splinter of metal.

  Pipes lanced down in a flash, again and again, the chains glistening in the reflected sun. Bearings ripped skull and flesh before making craters in the grass underneath. The lawn was a mess of rotting meat, putrid blood and hole filled zombies. Any that had been slain were trampled by the ones that took their place. Bones crunched audibly underfoot and their innards were squeezed out of orifices by the compressive weight of those that stood on them.

  After three hours had passed, the sun had been covered by the onset of new rain clouds. They had killed about a hundred of the crowded undead, many fewer than they had wanted to. It was clear the idea of the spears had been sound, but the movement of the dead and limited target of the brains was against them from the start. If it had been normal human beings they would have killed every single one. The ability of their enemy to be ripped, stabbed and crushed and still fight on was another huge obstacle which they would need to take into account in the future. Exhausted and frustrated, they gathered up the weapons and wiped them as clean as possible of gore and blood. The disappointment was evident in their demeanour. They had been hopeful of thinning the numbers to allow a rescue attempt. Staring down at the gathered crowd who were still wailing their hunger, they knew that it would still be too dangerous to attempt the investigation of the dark house that day. They laid down the equipment and began to make their way back into the attic space, until a fresh sound caught their attention. It was quiet at first and they couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just wishful thinking. The intensity grew over the moans of the dead, it was the unmistakeable whup whup whup of a helicopter’s rotor. The blades were causing air pressure fluctuations they could actually feel as it approached, which meant it had to be large. Craning their necks, they caught sight of the Chinook as it broke through a cloud to the south of the estate, and headed directly over the roof they were standing in at a height of one thousand feet. It was a dual rotor army helicopter that was used for troop movement or heavy equipment transport, roughly twenty tonnes in weight, which necessitated the extra lift and power.

  “DOWN HERE!” Sam screamed, leaping and waving.

  “HEY! HEY!” Braiden added.

  “It’s no use boys. They are far too high to see us,” John explained.

  “But it means the army is still active, they will be fighting back,” Sarah said offering some encouragement.

  “Exactly, we just have to sit tight and wait. We can still attempt to consolidate our position and help any other survivors that we can,” Gloria finished.

  They retreated down into their home, excited by the appearance of the armed forces, even from a distance. Kurt had taken a chair and was talking to the silent lady. He wasn’t asking her questions or trying to solicit a response, instead he just talked about his job, his family, the restaurants he liked to eat in, days out they had been on. He was mid-way through explaining the Durdle Door in Dorset, a stunning eroded archway set into cliffs which he had swam through on several occasions. He described the crystal clear water, the way you could see the bottom and any life that moved below as you glided through the ocean.

  “How did it go? Was that a helicopter I heard?” Kurt asked expectantly.

  “We killed loads Dad, but there are too many, we can’t get to that house yet. And yeah! It was a Chinook from Thorney Barracks,” Sam explained, grinning.

  “It means there is still an army,” Sarah beamed. “We will be rescued soon.”

  “Now don’t get your hopes up,” John cautioned. “It may be quite some time before they get control of this, until then we have to stay put and lay low. We will carry on with the attack tomorrow, my arms are aching.” He stretched his arms out and rotated them, trying to work some of the knots loose.

  “Come, sit down there,” Gloria instructed him, pointing to the floor in front of her. He obliged and she started to massage his shoulders and arms, he closed his eyes and sighed with contentment. Braiden and Sam looked at each other; their arms were aching too… Nah! They thought better of it. They sat around for a while, watching the fire crackle in the fireplace. Kurt had taken up the role of chef today and was cooking chicken soup mixed with tinned vegetables, followed by peach slices in syrup.

  “I was scared and so I hid. I forgot her,” whispered the silent lady, a tear running down her cheek.

  “What was that honey?” Sarah asked as she rushed over, wiping the tear away. “Something about hiding?”

  “I hid,” she replied, this was the first time she had shown any sort of awareness or recognition. But she was gone again, the eyes drying and glazing over.

  “What do you think she meant by ‘I hid’?” Kurt asked.

  “I found her hiding by a car in Lavant. I helped her after the attack.” John realised he had said too much, they looked at him, waiting for him to continue. He didn’t want to, but he knew that keeping it inside wouldn’t help in the long run, so he told them of the events of that fateful afternoon. He left several details out of the story, the psychological break and the baby among them. He would carry those to the grave. Unconsciously, he had stood while delivering the tale, pacing to and fro while he flashed back to the terrible scenes. Kurt stood from the cooking and embraced his father. They had all been through so much to get here, it would mark them forever.

  Kurt returned to the bubbling pot and served the portions out. The food would last at least six to eight weeks without rationing. The problem was that the weather was deteriorating with the onset of winter and like a squirrel, they would need to stockpile to survive the harsh season. This meant they needed to raid the surrounding houses, sooner rather than later. The past days had seen a growth in the numbers of dead, and this would only get worse as their food source was diminished. They ate and talked about the day. The lack of accuracy in throwing the spears was causing a lot of energy to be wasted for no gain. Kurt had been mulling the problem while they were killing the dead and during dinner. They needed to kill more with less effort.

  “I have an idea, tell me what you think,” Kurt began. “We still have that heavy table top don’t we? What’s to
stop us hammering nails through it? I have some long ones that would do the trick. The nails would be spaced so that they are likely to pierce the heads of the zombies below, in one drop, if they are bunching together still. It gets a bit complicated now, as we will need to fabricate some sort of boom system, like a crane arm that projects out over the crowd to hold the table top flat and steady. We will ring bolt the table top and tie the rope to them. We will have to add more ringbolts to the arms for the rope to go through. Then, like a pulley system, we will release the table top and it will drop, then we pull it back up and repeat. Hopefully the nails will do some damage to the brain. If not, we go back to the drawing board. Opinions?” Kurt looked around the room. They were trying to think through the idea.

  “One major problem I can foresee is that they are all reaching upwards towards us. It reminds me of when I used to go and watch bands play, think crowd surfing. As we would leap from stage, the multitude of arms would catch you, thus spreading the weight out proportionate to the number of people,” Gloria explained. They looked at her incredulously, and then burst out laughing. She knew what they must be thinking and smiled. “I can enjoy music you know. Just because I am old it doesn’t mean I am deaf.”

  “You don’t look a day over thirty,” commented John with a grin.

  “Well, I may not be deaf but it is clear you are blind sir. I appreciate the attempt at a compliment nonetheless.” She winked at him.

  Sam and Braiden were wrinkling their noses again.

  “For goodness sake, get a room you two!” Kurt added, laughing even more.

  A look passed between Gloria and John, questioning, longing, hopeful? Sarah saw that it was becoming awkward and broke the silence that threatened to drag on.

  “As disgusting as it is, wouldn’t their arms break after a few impacts? They can’t raise them if they are shattered.”