Hellspawn (Book 1)

by Fleet, Ricky

  “Well hello there,” came a gruff voice that was choked full of inhuman desires and needs.

  **********

  Braiden was so fixated on the house; he failed to heed the approach of cautious footsteps from the attic access. The man had seen Braiden the second he set foot inside the attic of the killing table house. He was backlit by the daylight. It looked as if he was at Heaven’s door, waiting to welcome a deceased loved one at the proverbial ‘light at the end of the tunnel’. The man was no loved one, not even close. It was only the creak of a loose joist that made Braiden turn and look, but it was too late. The heavy hand closed on his mouth and a thick, strong arm encircled his throat, cutting off the airway. The man lifted Braiden and his feet kicked in the air, struggling to find a surface to rest upon to lessen the pressure on his neck. Stars started to blaze in his vision from the deprivation of oxygen to his brain. In his last seconds, Braiden was acutely aware of the rank armpit stink and the filthy hands that his tongue was being forced to taste as he was strangled.

  **********

  “So what’s your name then?” asked the man as he entered the room cautiously, keeping a close eye on the dog. “Where are your friends? They aren’t here with you. Maybe you lied when you said there were eight.”

  Hope just sat there, happy in her ignorance of the stinking, filthy intruder. He hadn’t washed for a week before the outbreak and the subsequent zombie slaying was still evident on his clothes. Dried, brown, crusty patches were now overlaid by the fresher putrescence of those destroyed around the killing table. Noxious smells were so normal to the man that he didn’t even notice the pervading stench he gave off as he moved, each draft of air mixing and spreading the concoctions on his clothing.

  “We are going to have a great time tonight. Well, I am. You, not so much.” He smiled and Honey stood, her hackles rising and teeth bared. Her haunches were vibrating, muscles bunched and ready to attack him. The man had an iron bar in his left hand and a knife in his belt, both were stained and dripping with mucus and clotted, green blood.

  “Come on then puppy dog. Let’s see how you feel after some of this,” the man menaced as he swished the bar in warning. It had the reverse effect, Honey leaped and bit down on the arm holding the weapon. The pain caused him to yell and drop it. Her sharp canine teeth were unable to penetrate the thick, waterproof coat that he was wearing, but the bruising would be severe by the morning. Roaring in agony, he swung his arm using the weight of the dog to his advantage, slamming the Labrador into the wall, where she yelped in pain and fell to the floor. Her side was damaged and added to her previous injuries. She was trying to limp away, walking sideways to minimise the pain.

  “You fucking mutt, I’m going to stick this in your fucking neck!” He pulled the knife free and advanced on the dog that had now fallen to the floor and whimpered. The energy in her weakened state was all used up. The man pinned her down and swung the knife in a downwards arc, aiming to hit the floor underneath the dog to make sure it was finished. A blow to his side caused him to stagger, the knife embedded only inches from Honey’s face. She could only look at the partial reflection of herself in the impaled blade.

  “Don’t you touch her, don’t you touch my baby!” Hope screamed and attempted to swing the fireplace poker again, the piercing shrieks like a banshee as she attacked him.

  “Oh now we are getting somewhere,” the man laughed and tried to grab her wrists to take the metal poker, but the crazed woman’s strength was incredible. He wrestled it free. Her nails raked his face and tore deep gashes in his skin, forcing him to try and stab at her with his new weapon, but he couldn’t get the momentum behind it and it missed.

  “You bitch, you’re dead!” He tried to maintain his bravado but she was relentless in her ferocity. When she wasn’t scratching and punching, she tried to bite his face. Only quick reactions prevented her clean, white teeth from fastening onto his beaked, pocked nose. The potential rapist swung an arm back and punched her full in the face, yet it had no effect. Hope’s head snapped back with the power of the blow, but there was no pain when she met his gaze once more, only a new level of hatred.

  “Leave my baby alone, don’t you hurt her, I won’t let you!” She screamed even louder, small fists flailing and connecting with his face and arms that he tried to defend himself with. The kicks and punches he threw back made no difference and only served to drive her even more berserk. Eventually he fell to the floor under the assault, curling into a foetal position. Hope’s feet kicked again and again at ribs and spine and he was screaming, terrified at this small blonde woman who was slowly beating him to death in the upstairs hallway.

  **********

  Darkness was taking Braiden away; even the first shrill screams seemed to be coming from miles away. He felt like he was sinking into the ocean, but the water was warm and comforting.

  “Put him down you bastard or I will blow you in half!” yelled Gloria, who had hurried up the steps at the first shriek and found Braiden, slumped in the powerful arms of this long haired stranger.

  “You will kill us both with that shotgun you silly old cunt,” sneered the man, but he lowered Braiden, determined to have a living human shield between himself and the gun, not a dead body.

  “You really are as dumb as you look aren’t you?” Gloria sneered back, hiding her terror, refusing to give the man any indication she wasn’t in total control. It was only her will that prevented the gun from waving wildly in the air; instead it was still and deadly. “At this range the shot won’t spread, it will just blow a clean hole through you about two inches wide.”

  The sneer faltered a little and he seemed to be thinking of his options. “The gun will blow you clean off your feet. Put it down before you hurt yourself and I won’t hurt you,” he said, trying to reassert his dominance. Gloria simply laughed in his face, grateful when the rest of the family arrived. Kurt had ducked out of sight, heading off to help Hope. They all had weapons ready. Sam moved to the side, slingshot drawn but not aimed directly at the two. The way he was shaking, he was just as likely to hit his brother.

  “I shoot every weekend, you fucking imbecile. I could blast your ears off one by one if I wished.” Gloria winced inwardly at the use of profanity, but she needed to seem capable and tough, a match for the huge hulk in front of her. He looked backwards, at the hole in the wall where they had mounted the mirror, and considered the drop.

  “Oh please, go ahead. I will enjoy seeing you with two broken legs and being eaten, one bite at a time,” she smiled what she hoped was a suitably evil grin. It did the trick. The man slumped his shoulders and dropped Braiden, who fell to the floor clutching his throat and coughing.

  “So, what now?” the intruder asked, glaring at them.

  “Get on the floor, face down,” Gloria instructed and he looked as if he was going to make a play for the gun. The large black bores of the shotgun’s barrels focused his mind and he reconsidered, and lowered himself down on the boarded floor. Gloria approached and he glared at her with a look of pure malice, she had no doubt what he would like to do to her. The heavy wooden butt of the shotgun cracked against his forehead. His head dropped like a stone, unconscious.

  “Are you ok?” Sarah asked anxiously as they all rushed to Braiden. John had gone to join Kurt now that this brute was subdued.

  He massaged his bruised neck and tried to talk. “I… I…” was all he could manage, it came out as a croak.

  “No, don’t speak sweetheart, save your strength,” Sarah said and cradled him in her arms.

  Gloria and Sam took the man’s tattooed arms and tied them at the wrists with some duct tape that was on the worktop. They then did the same to his legs, then finally lifted them and tied the feet to the wrists, effectively hogtying the assailant. It was for their safety, and only when he was suitably trussed, did they feel comfortable.

  **********

  Kurt climbed down the ladder and found Hope still beating the prone figure on the floor. The intruder had bee
n reduced to mewling whispers. Her energy was expended and her blows were without the strength of minutes ago, but the damage was already done.

  “I’m sorry. He was hurting her. He shouldn’t have hurt my baby,” Hope said to Kurt, looking at him and actually seeing him for the first time.

  “No he shouldn’t. Are you ok?” Kurt asked, seeing the blood trickling from her nose and the swelling eye. He was sure that she would retreat internally once more, but to his amazement, she continued the conversation.

  “Yes, I’m fine, but Honey is hurt. HE HURT HER!” she yelled and stomped on the man again, causing yet another cry of pain.

  Kurt was convinced the invader posed no threat at that moment, but he took off the man’s shoes and threaded the laces out before tying the scumbag’s hands behind his back. The movement of the man’s injured joints caused him to shriek and try to pull away, but he had no fight left in him and Kurt bound him quickly.

  Kurt found Hope lifting Honey onto their bed, but seeing the poor animal and her new injuries, he didn’t complain. Hope stroked the matted yellow fur and when she touched certain areas of the dog’s side, Honey whined with pain.

  “She bit him when he tried to hurt me, then he threw her into that wall,” Hope said, crying, and pointing at a patch of wall that now had dirty streaks on it. “You will be ok baby. We will make you better, I promise,” she cooed at the heroic dog.

  Kurt prayed that there was no internal damage, or there would be nothing they could do. It was in fate’s hands now. He picked up and rubbed the uninjured paw, Honey looked at him from her position and the brown soulful eyes were full of canine love.

  “Rest easy girl, we will take care of you now,” Kurt told the brave animal while Hope wiped her tears with a sleeve. “I’m Kurt, pleased to finally meet you,” he said.

  “I’m… Paige. Thank you for looking after me while I was… away,” she blushed.

  “You are very welcome. Keep an eye on our hero while I deal with this sleazeball,” Kurt hardened, an example needed to be made.

  Chapter 29

  The two intruders were taken through the attics and into the house with the open roof, and then tied to heavy oak chairs with ropes and tape. Everyone agreed that the further the intruders were from their sanctuary while they decided their fate, the better. The hulk of a man had been dragged unceremoniously through each attic, still out cold, so they were uncaring of the bumps he endured. Paige’s beaten victim was also pulled up into the attic with a great deal more vocal resistance, though none of the family cared for his protests. Once they had been secured and sat there, shivering in the frigid air, Gloria wrapped herself in a blanket and likewise seated herself, gun aimed at the pair with safety catch off.

  “You go and finish what we started. I will cover these… gentlemen,” Gloria instructed and the rest moved off to comply. The attack had caught them all off guard, but it wouldn’t happen again. The conscious man just sat there, trying not to move or pull too much on his restraints to minimise the pain of his whole body. He felt as if he had been run over.

  Gloria appraised the pair. One was freakishly large, not a body builder by any stretch as there was far too much fat, but the arms, shoulders, and chest were heavily muscled beneath it. His belly was round and protuberant, the result of years of drinking in local dives. He had long, brown, greasy hair that hung over his face, concealing the features. She had seen all she wanted to of that face when he held Braiden. It was the face of a predator with soulless eyes like those of a shark. His visible skin, as well as parts of his face, was covered with fading tattoos, most likely from prison, judging by the poor quality. His friend groaned softly. He was much thinner and smaller, five foot eight compared to well over six for the brute. His face was pinched and scarred; there was an uncanny rat like semblance to it, with a protruding jaw line and sharp nose. Neither looked like the type you would want to meet in a dark alley, or even a well-lit public place for that matter.

  Gloria checked the gun once again, knowing the miscreants were secure but still fearful of what they were capable of doing. Her mind was torn between mercy and the turning of the other cheek. As a born and raised Christian, it was how she had lived her life. But these specimens were less than animals and she knew that the new world would be a better place without having to contend with evil such as this.

  “Can you loosen my hands?” whispered the rodent faced man. “It’s so painful.”

  Gloria ignored him and aimed the gun in their direction, signalling her answer. It was enough to silence the whining. The cold was biting through the blanket and it must have been even worse for the pair tied to the chairs, although after what they had planned to do, they were lucky to be alive. The deviants’ coats and jumpers had been removed and thrown out of the roof hole while they were checked for weapons. The thin layers they had been left with would not be sufficient to ward off the near freezing temperatures if they were kept in the attic for any length of time.

  “Any trouble?” John queried as he entered followed by Kurt, Sarah, and the rest of the family.

  “A little snivelling from that one, but apart from that, nothing. The big, dumb one is either still out cold or he is pretending and seeing if he can seize an opportunity. I suspect the latter by the way he has been trying to slyly get out of his bonds,” Gloria said.

  The long haired rogue looked up and glared venomously at the group.

  “Ahh there he is. Did you have nice dreams?” Gloria taunted, trying to remain cool and aloof, as if this kind of scenario was normal to her.

  “Fuck off slut,” he rasped; the heavy purple bruising from the butt of the gun was accompanied by a growing lump. It only served to make him even more evil looking.

  “I’d shut my mouth before you get fed to our friends down there!” shouted Kurt.

  The man mountain turned to face him. “You don’t scare me. If you were going to kill us you would have already done it. You tied us up because you haven’t got the guts and don’t know what else to do,” he taunted and he was totally correct. The initial desire for bloody vengeance had gone, they just weren’t that kind of people, and each of them realised this was a new problem. Somewhat naively, they had assumed people would come together in joyful cooperation to save their race in the face of overwhelming horror. The reality was far worse. It now seemed that the most likely to survive and thrive in this world would be the violent and compassionless. How did the saying go, good guys finish last? Never had it been truer, but dating had been replaced by zombie apocalypse survival. They couldn’t let this play out with the captors calling the shots so John thought quickly and came up with an idea.

  “Don’t worry, we may still kill you. You think because we don’t stink of shit that we are weak?” John had put on a front as well. It may be that they would need to become like the filth that sat in front of them, though they would fight it every step of the way. “We are going to have a little question and answer session. Every time one of you gives a wrong answer or talks shit, we will move you closer to the attic hatch. If you push us too far, you will be going through it and meeting our house guests. Do you understand?”

  Rat and Hulk looked at each other and they both laughed, Rat less so because each chuckle caused pain to burst through his ribcage and spine.

  “Fine.” John and Kurt moved behind the pair, held their breath and dragged each chair a foot closer to the opening and its threat of waiting arms and teeth. Kurt was lumbered with Hulk and even using the chair legs as leverage, it was quite an effort to move him. God, he really didn’t want to come up against this freak if the roles were ever reversed, Kurt prayed.

  “So by my reckoning, another eight outbursts like that and they will be ripped to pieces, what do you think?” John asked Kurt, encouraging him to play the role.

  “It may even be seven if we pull too much. I tell you what, to make it fair, I’m adding a new rule. If one of you answers wrong, then both of you will be moved. Let’s call it equal opportunities questionin
g.” Kurt moved back to the front of the chairs.

  “So, question one. Which one is Paul and where are the other two of you? We have searched and they aren’t here.” John stood before them inquisitorially. He knew that arrival to the hatch was inevitable, and then they would have to give up the pretence of being killers, but it was necessary to try and glean any information they could. Hulk was stony faced and seemed resolute, but Rat was sweating and his eyes were giving away his uncertainty.

  “Ok, your choice,” Kurt said and started to grab the back of their chairs.

  “NO, WAIT!” shrieked Rat.

  “Shut your fucking mouth or I’ll cut your throat!” growled Hulk. Despite the previous threat, they only dragged him backwards a foot, leaving Rat where he was. The look of relief on the little rodent’s face was a picture. They had him.

  “I’m Archie. That’s HP, short for Harry Peterson. The other two are back in the house. We were only supposed to have a look around and report back but…,” Rat said. They all knew what the ‘but’ meant, if there was an opportunity to hurt and rape, the treacherous animals would have taken it.

  “You fucking grass, you know what we will do to you now!” threatened HP as he was dragged closer to the hatch. If looks could kill, they would all be melting piles of scorched flesh; thankfully he lacked that power and just carried on scowling.

  “I asked for all of your names, who are the other two?” John leaned the rat’s chair back, ready to move it, but Archie’s will was broken. They could ask him anything and he would answer truthfully to save his own hide. John had met men like this before and he despised them, cowards and perverts only concerned about themselves. He would have preferred to be dragging Archie to the hole because at least HP had mettle.