Hellspawn (Book 1)

by Fleet, Ricky

  The boys didn’t want to leave her alone, so they brought their mattresses into the room for the night. John had moved his pillow bed into Gloria and Hope’s room. He was happy for the company as Hope could not be coaxed from the reading chair with her furry friend so close. Kurt dreamed of his childhood pet Missy again, but this time, there were two demanding mouths eager for the Frisbee.

  Chapter 27

  John was drilling the section of wall out that they would use to put the mirror through. The side walls of the rows of houses were in a perfect line, which meant they would have to mount the mirror at least six to eight feet out before the reflection would shine through the smoke house’s front bedroom window, possibly allowing communication in a very slow manner. Kurt joined him and carefully fixed the delicate mirror to a section of board that would then, in turn, be fixed at the correct angle to aim where they required it. The torches and batteries that they had accumulated were stacked on the workbenches of the room. A Maglite torch had been selected because of the ability to focus the beam, which would reach the people in the other home.

  “Fix that through there Son,” John instructed and Kurt drilled the mirror beam into place. They measured the angle and distance of the mirror mount before taking the beam back down and fixing the polished surface into place. The first attempt was off, but with some adjustment, the second try gave them a clear line to the house. It was dark and forbidding, rekindling memories of the mystery house. The chimney was now still and no smoke billowed into the clear sky. Watching for a while, they had to crowd together to get a decent look through the small mirror.

  “I just don’t know,” John stated staring hard. He was a lot more cautious after the recent blind optimism and the near fatal encounter.

  “What do we have to lose? If they don’t answer in Morse code at least they may be able to flash a reply and let us know if they are there,” Kurt suggested but John continued to look at the windows.

  He started to imagine the house was a living, sentient being. The upper windows became eyes and the front door was its mouth. He expected to see the door open and rows of vicious razor sharp teeth to be ready to tear flesh from bone. In his mind, the windows then transformed into the rear window of the car from Lavant and he could see the baby being torn asunder, even though he had been spared that ordeal originally. The back seat and baby carrier were inexplicably transparent for the repulsive replay. Sudden contact on his shoulder caused him to flinch.

  “Dad, are you ok?” Kurt was looking at him, “You went really pale.”

  “Memories, memories I wish I could forget. Ok, let’s do it.” He pushed the images from his mind and picked up the torch, pressing the power button and shining it around the attic to see if the beam was thin enough. “Here goes nothing.”

  John flashed twice in quick succession every five seconds for ten minutes before taking a break. Sarah had decided to go and make them all coffee, it was fine without milk, but they found they couldn’t get used to tea that way. Kurt took over and John sipped at the steaming mug, gripping it tight to absorb some of the heat in his freezing hands. The hole in the wall was causing a gentle breeze to circulate in the attic, so Sarah had also brought gloves back for them all.

  As Kurt continued to flash, the light played on the glass and reflected back at them, causing them to miss the first reply. It was only when Sam pointed it out that they realised they had lost focus and had started talking to one another about lunch instead. They were spending a lot of time discussing food and other menial tasks now that they were trapped. Life had become much simpler, despite it being far more dangerous.

  “There it is again!” Sam gasped, pointing at the reflection. Sure enough, the single flash came back to them, diluted and from what must have been a normal torch.

  “Oh Christ, here give it to me.” John held out his hand. “I didn’t actually expect them to answer so soon. Let me try to say something.”

  He flashed a quick sequence that spelled: H E L L O.

  “Ok, now we wait and see what happens,” John said.

  A single flash came back but no more. Disappointment threatened again and their minds immediately switched to thoughts of how to navigate the walls and separating houses. They missed more flashes, but John caught the final few and it was clear the others knew Morse code.

  “What I saw spelled L L O, they know Morse code!” John explained. They all cheered and hugged each other. This small victory had left them exhilarated. He started to communicate to the others.

  “H I.”

  “H I.”

  “I A M J O H N.”

  “P A U L.”

  “G O O D T O M E E T Y O U.”

  “Y O U T O O.”

  Even in these few words their spirits had lifted, there was living, breathing humans a stone’s throw away from where they were. There would be a celebration tonight.

  “H O W M A N Y A R E Y O U?” John carried on, each short sentence taking minutes because of the breaks and pauses.

  “F O U R.”

  “There are four of them,” John informed them all. They were on tenterhooks trying to imagine the group, how many children, how many women and men?

  “E I G H T.”

  “G O O D.”

  “A R E Y O U S A F E?” John inquired.

  “Y E S.”

  “D O Y O U H A V E S U P P L I E S?”

  “Y E S.”

  “That’s good. At least they are secure and provisioned,” John told them and the flashing conversation continued.

  “A R E Y O U A R M E D?” The stranger asked.

  “Y E S.”

  “W H A T W I T H?”

  “They are asking about our weapons,” John commented, frowning. His senses were telling him something was off here, but the rest of the family were still smiling from ear to ear. These new people had made no effort to reciprocate the concern about the welfare of the group.

  “W H A T W I T H?” was repeated.

  “Ok Mr. Pushy, you want to know what we have?” John said to himself.

  “T O O L S A N D B A T S.” John wasn’t about to tell them of the shotgun.

  “G O O D.”

  “Y O U R S?” John asked, seeing how they fared in the weapon stakes.

  A minute passed without reply.

  “I’m a bit uneasy about this. They haven’t asked how we are or answered about their own weapons,” John explained.

  “Hold on, are we just misreading these messages? Without seeing facial expressions and hearing it actually spoken, it could be they are totally innocent,” Sarah tried to rationalise and it was true. Morse code was an antiquated system and meanings can get lost in translation.

  “H E L L O.” The stranger messaged.

  “W E A P O N S ?” John pressed the point.

  “Y E S.”

  “Let’s play them at their own game,” Kurt proposed and John flashed the question.

  “W H A T W I T H?”

  No reply.

  “W H A T W I T H?”

  Nothing.

  “Let’s try and ask a friendly question and see if we can trigger a better response,” Sam suggested. John was unconvinced but he tried it anyway, hoping against hope that it was just a misunderstanding.

  “D O Y O U N E E D A N Y H E L P?”

  “N O.”

  “Right, I am ending this here. I don’t like it and I think we should just keep to ourselves for now,” John said and the initial euphoria at finding fellow human survivors was no longer evident.

  “B Y E.”

  “W A I T.”

  “B Y E,” John repeated, ending the communication.

  John stood up and made to walk off, but more flashes piqued his interest. He was tempted to ignore it but watched the message as it came through, a cold sweat breaking out on his brow. The rest of the family waited patiently to hear what the message was, and he almost lied to them, but this was not the time for it.

  “H O W M A N Y W O M E N?” The strangers
had asked.

  “I’ll check the gun,” Kurt said quietly.

  The time had come for them to shake off the malaise they had been settling into. Putting aside the dangerous situations they had been through, a great deal of their time was spent inactive and sedentary. The shocking realisation that other survivors may not be benevolent had woken them all up.

  “Why didn’t we just keep our heads down?” John berated himself. He prided himself on the common sense approach he took to life, yet even he had to admit the isolation had made him careless. The chance to speak to the others had caused him to drop his guard and now there were humans that could mean them harm. If it wasn’t for the protection the zombies afforded them, they would be in imminent danger. He couldn’t even believe he classed the zombies as protection. The world was getting crazier by the day.

  “Don’t worry Dad, none of us could have seen this coming,” Kurt tried to console him.

  “Well I bloody should have!” John yelled, taking them all by surprise. “I’m smarter than this.”

  “It’s not just you in here though is it? We all have as much right to make mistakes and take decisions.” Kurt was on the defensive now. His father was beginning to sound like a dictator.

  “And maybe that’s the problem, too much talking and emotion in our planning. We let that dog in without thinking it through and it was only luck that she hasn’t attacked any of us yet.” John was in full rant now. His face was reddening by the second.

  “Her name is Honey and, in case you’ve forgotten, she saved our lives!” Kurt was equally furious. The authoritative demeanour when John got like this was like a red rag to a bull.

  “Oh don’t be so pathetic, we would have woken up and smelled it anyway. The dog is just an extra burden on our resources,” John said dismissively and started to walk away.

  “Don’t you turn your fucking back to me!” Kurt shouted and stepped forward, grabbing John by the shoulder and spinning him around.

  “You better take your hand off of me, boy,” John growled.

  “Or what?” Kurt squared up to his dad, noses inches apart, and eyes locked and glaring. It wouldn’t take much for one to throw the first punch and then their relationship would be forever tainted.

  “STOP IT!” Braiden screamed, the sound so unexpected and their rage at each other so intense, it made them both jump. “Her name is Honey, you got that?”

  Braiden was staring at John so fiercely he looked away to break the gaze.

  “Yes, Honey. Got it,” John murmured, the anger gone and replaced with guilt and embarrassment. He was still trying to come to terms with Kurt’s comments in their previous argument and here he was making things even worse.

  “And don’t you try and fight him. It’s just… just don’t.” Braiden was staring at Kurt now. He couldn’t articulate how their actions had terrified him with barely repressed memories of his own fathers’ cruelty.

  “Sorry Braiden.” Kurt looked away too.

  John and Kurt stood there like naughty schoolboys who were being punished by a teacher. Sarah wouldn’t have been surprised if Braiden started wagging his finger at the pair.

  “Now apologise to each other!” Braiden instructed them.

  “Sorry Son.”

  “Sorry Dad.”

  “Good.” Braiden gave a stiff nod just like Gloria would and Sarah started laughing. It was so funny watching this young boy dress down two grown adults, she just couldn’t help herself. The rest of the group looked at her as if she was crazy and she stilled her giggles when Braiden turned his disapproving stare at her.

  “Sorry Braiden.” Sarah was chastened too.

  “Now what are we going to do?” Braiden asked, relieved that they had stopped arguing. The intervention of Braiden had caught them off guard, but they paused and thought of what was the best course of action.

  “I don’t think there is much we can do about them, although we must definitely be on guard now. The zombies can’t get to us but the people don’t suffer from the same limitations,” Kurt suggested and John agreed.

  “I think we should try and block up the staircases of the other homes, the same way you did here Kurt. That will make it more difficult for them to sneak up on us. The end house with the zombies will have to be left alone, but I doubt they will come through there. We should also make up some sort of doors in the attic to block the holes when we aren’t using them. That will leave them the choice of breaking in making a lot of noise, or trying to get in through the windows,” John said and they all agreed that it would be safer.

  “We can keep watch through the night like we started to do when it all happened,” Sam added. It would be difficult to see them in the dark, but they would be coming through zombie infested roads and gardens. They would have to use some sort of light or risk attacking during the day when they would be visible to everything in the area, human and festering cadavers alike.

  “Up until now they have kept a low profile or they would have been surrounded by the zombies, so they are unlikely to try anything. We managed to destroy enough of the dead to mount a rescue attempt, so we need to be ready if they do the same,” Kurt reasoned.

  “With the shotgun we have some protection should they make a play for us.” Gloria had joined them and the gun was cleaned and oiled, broken and cradled over her arm with shells loaded in the chambers.

  “We should really get our bug out bags ready now too. Sam, can you get any large rucksacks and roller suitcases you can find? Your dad and I are going to do some work on the staircases.” John looked at Kurt, he knew that he had been taking his frustrations out on those around him, but that didn’t excuse his behaviour. Spending a couple of hours working together would be good for them both.

  “I will help Sam start putting some kits together. We will concentrate on the rucksacks for absolute essentials and use the suitcases for extras that won’t mean life or death if we lose them,” Sarah said.

  “Braiden would you mind wrapping up warm and watching the house for us? I just don’t trust them and want to be secure before tonight,” Kurt asked and Braiden agreed, heading off to find a warmer jumper.

  Honey had joined them and seemed a lot better. Her limp was still causing her pain and she stunk to high heaven, but it would require a lot more water to clean her than it did them. They had planned to wait until they had gathered some rain water in one of the bathtubs once it ran dry of drinking water, and using that for the purpose. One was getting close to the bottom and the hole had been formed, ready for the rainwater pipe to be cut and redirected. Following Honey was Hope, and her appearance was astonishing. Up until now she had remained in the reading chair, but she had not wanted to be parted from the dog.

  “Good girl, pretty girl,” she whispered, reaching down and stroking the tangled fur.

  Honey looked at them all, licked Hope’s hand, sneezed once, and then returned to the warmth of the fire, closely pursued by the previously immobile lady. It was quite surreal and they didn’t know what to say for a few seconds.

  “Let’s get it done,” said Kurt and they all moved off to begin their work.

  Chapter 28

  “Braiden, thanks for keeping an eye out,” John said, collecting tools and materials for the reinforcement work. Braiden nodded, pulling the thick jumper down over his head and climbing the ladder to mount his vigil.

  “I shall hover around, keeping an eye on you all,” Gloria informed them, hefting the gun onto her shoulder.

  “My Guardian Angel.” John smiled at her, she winked back at him.

  “Sweetheart, there is still a lot of tinned food in the other houses that we found, would you take as much as you can and bring it back? Try and get a balance of foods, meats, fruits and vegetables,” John asked Sarah as he started to ascend the ladder, closely followed by Kurt.

  “No problem,” she replied.

  “I’ll follow Braiden to the shower house and get it from there Mum,” Sam offered.

  “Thanks, I’ll be right b
ehind you. I want to get some bags to sort it all into different food types,” Sarah said, digging through a pile of things they had brought up with them, certain there were some heavy duty canvas bags in there somewhere.

  “Honey, you keep a close eye on Hope for us, ok?” Gloria scratched the dog under the chin. Honey closed her eyes and sighed with animal contentment.

  “We will be close by, don’t worry,” Sarah added, rubbing Hope on the back expecting no response and receiving none.

  They all had a purpose, the homes representing an ant colony, or like beavers working away industriously for the protection of their loved ones. John and Kurt were blocking access at each stairwell. The missing steps could still be overcome by normal people but blocking the top, in the same way they had done their own house, would stop easy access. They then took some more floor lamps and mounted glasses precariously on top. Any attempt to break through the floor would result in the glass falling and shattering, thus alerting them to the danger. Gloria was alternating between Kurt and John, and Sarah and Sam, peering through the windows and watching for movement other than the mindless staggering of the leaking husks outside. Braiden was staring at the mirror, watchful for any opening of the door or shadows in the windows.

  At the house on the end of the terrace, the sounds of moaning from around the killing table were gradually silenced and the ropes tied to the rafters whipped around a little before pulling taut. All this went unseen by the family as they remained fixated on their personal tasks.

  Hope sat in the reading chair, alternately stroking the dog and then sitting back and watching the flames as they lapped at the burning logs, lost in corridors of her own mind. The creak of the ladder and the shadowy figure that appeared in the doorway didn’t register with her, she remained oblivious. The overpowering stench of body odour that wafted through on a current of air was insufficient to rouse her, but Honey had woken and growled deeply in her throat.