The Good, The Bad & The Dead | Book 1 | Once Upon A Time In An Undead World
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The intruder spun, the hand holding the knife shot out. Stacey let out a cry of pain. He fell to the floor, dazed. Stacey also fell but she was dying.
Ronnie rushed through the opening, to see his Stacey lying in her own blood, her eyes searching his. His old instincts took over, he buried the axe dead centre in the skull of the intruder. His skull spilt to the bridge of his nose, his eyes crossed, and his mouth erupted with darkened blood. His muddy boots twitched across the tiled floor. Ronnie left him to die.
He put his hand under Stacey’s head, he touched the knife gently. She touched his hand. ‘You’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘I’ll ring an ambulance.’
‘It will be too late by the time they get here.’
‘Don’t say that, you’re as tough as they come.’
‘Promise me, you will look after Ron,’ she murmured.
‘You’re his mum, he needs you.’
‘Promise me,’ she said with laboured breath.
‘I promise.’ Ronnie cried and Stacey died.
He held her for a few minutes just rocking back and forth. He had become a bad parent because in those few minutes he had forgotten about Ron – he also broke his promise to Stacey.
When he lay her on the cold floor he stood up expecting his baby to still be standing on the rug, he wasn’t. He charged upstairs suspecting his frightened little boy would be hiding, he wasn’t.
Ron had been too young to understand that they were trying to protect him. Instead he had seen an angry man attack his mum and his dad split that man’s skull. It’s only when Ronnie thinks back that he remembers seeing Ron walk past him. He was too busy watching Stacey fade away to take in anything else. He thinks Stacey could see him and that’s what she was saying but he was blinded by sadness.
Ronnie heard his little boy scream; he had a good voice for someone so young. The scream was much like his mothers, one of pain. Ronnie took the stairs in one leap. He also took the axe from the cracked skull as he passed. The drive was laid with gravel and slate, he felt it cut through his bare feet. He ran to his right past some farmhouses, up to the stream, he wasn’t there.
Another scream, back past the cottage and towards the main road. He noticed people looking through their windows at a crazed man running about their tiny village, they didn’t help. He ran ignoring the pain in his feet. He rounded the first corner and found Ron’s shoe, so tiny and adorable - he stuffed it in his pocket. He had hope as he flew around the second corner…
’OH GOD NO, NOT MY SON.’ There were four of them, all bloodstained and hideous. They were hunched around him, pulling him apart, shoving bits of him into their hungry mouths. They turned towards Ronnie.
Those zombies, the dead whatever you want to fucking call them received justice. It didn’t bring little Ronnie back but he left them in the same state as his baby boy. When it was done he couldn’t bear to look at him. His other shoe was hanging limply from his shin bone. He vomited violently then he felt a hand on his back.
Ronnie turned sharply and swung the axe over his shoulder. Brian the owner of the cottage was just about to speak when the sharp edge cleaved through his skull bone. His mouth was still open when he crumpled to the floor, his head juice leaking all over the road. Behind him his daughter screamed, she turned to run. Ronnie had never threw an axe before, but he was a natural. It caught her between the shoulder blades. The impact and potential spinal damage hurtled her forwards on to her pretty face. She cried as he approached, then he ended her whimpering.
It’s hard to say if he had lost his mind, maybe he had but he liked to think that he was releasing the primal rage that he had suppressed since Stacey had shown him another way. The dead would pay and so would the bastards from the village who didn’t help.
Chapter Twenty-One
Cheetwood, Manchester, Central UK.
He watched from his bedroom window as a group of ravaged dead took down his overweight neighbour. The sun was barely up, and the street was still luminated by streetlamps. He had no intentions of helping, in fact his dislike for his neighbour almost prompted him to go out and aim a couple of kicks in himself. This was a different type of attack though; it wasn’t a bunch of kids knocking shit out of him - it resembled a pride of lions taking down a zebra. His neighbour thought they were a gang of delinquents and his shouts would frighten them off. The opposite happened; he attracted their attention.
The fat neighbour’s screams were drowned out by the ugly moaning of the dead and the tearing of flesh. They stopped when his wife let out a screech from her front door. A creature missing the side of his face responded first, another slipped over in the fat man’s blood. Eddie Makin laughed as the thing rolled onto its back, fighting to right itself. It was once a woman, now it was a carnivorous creature covered head to foot in another’s blood and shit. The others raised themselves and stumbled over the dead fat man and the disabled creature. Eddie counted seven, all in various states of cannibalised deformity. The stupid bitch next door continued to scream instead of bolting the door, too late they were upon her. Much to Eddie’s amusement his fat neighbour sat up, his undersized vest was now more crimson than white. He was missing several lumps of flesh from his chest area and three fingers from his left hand. Part of his lower face was missing. He raised himself and stumbled towards his wife, she poked a hand towards him – he clamped his teeth between her finger and thumb.
Eddie had been at the original protest; he had been there to ensure trouble had erupted. His skills included intimidation with or without violence, drug trafficking, extortion and knowing how to obtain unlicensed firearms. He was holding an illegal Browning 9mm handgun while he watched. The magazine held thirteen bullets; he had a spare magazine and a serrated machete on his bed. For now he knew he was safe but that wouldn’t last with the numbers of the dead growing, he needed to find a safe haven.
He tried ringing his brother again, still no answer. They had been together at the protest, launching missiles and beating down protesters and police alike – that was over twelve hours ago. He could hear people shouting that protestors were biting each other. It seemed a small group had emerged from the back and they were taking the protest to the next level. The fighting amongst the protestors and police continued at the front while the non-violent cluster who were hanging back got attacked. Eddie watched as a blonde woman staggered through the crowd taking bites from the unsuspecting. She looked as though she had been bitten herself many times. He found it odd that a respectable woman was committing random acts of violence; her business suit had seen better days. As she stumbled closer to him, he could see the full extent of her facial injuries. Her lower lip and the flesh surrounding her chin had gone. The teeth and gums in her lower jaw were visible. She was snarling as she tore chunks from the gathering. As she lumbered towards Eddie, she stretched out her arms like an embracing relative. He prided himself on his one-blow knockouts; he hit her hard on what was left of her chin. The force took her off her feet and removed several teeth from her snapping jaws. It wasn’t the first time he had laid out a woman. She lay on her back for several seconds; Eddie gave himself a mental slap on the back - he stopped congratulating himself when she sat back up. By the time she had got to her feet a horde of dead had arrived as her back up.
He watched as a protestor was taken down by several of the dead creatures. A police officer tried to intervene; the blonde woman latched onto his face; the rest swamped him. Eddie reached for his brother, ‘We need to go,’ he said. It wasn’t his brother’s arm he held, all around him the fighting continued and in the middle of the melee something worse was occurring.
Eddie snapped back into reality as another neighbour went screeching down the street. She was running away from the dead creatures, a bundle in her arms. He realised it was Julie from two doors up, the bundle was her young son. He had tried his luck a couple of times with her, but she wasn’t as easy as he had thought. She ran barefoot along the pavement, skidding to a halt at the corner as a dead thing reached for her
. She avoided the deadly embrace and ran in the opposite direction. At the next corner more of the dead limped towards her, she let out a pained cry. At least twenty of the creatures had boxed her in. As she dodged another she raced around a parked car, she saw the creature still rolling around on the floor too late. Her foot slipped in the blood causing her foot to lodge under the dead thing, the force buckled her leg and they were falling. The hungry dead moved in; her other five kids lumbered out of the doorway to their home and joined in the feast; Eddie turned away from the carnage.
He picked up the spare magazine and holstered the gun into his waistband. The machete he attached to his belt. He rang his brother again, still no answer. He stubbed out his cigarette and put on his jacket. Time to face the world or what was left of it. He opened the bedroom door and descended the stairs; the noise stopped him halfway down. He reached for the gun, pausing he knew a gunshot would attract unwanted company. He unsheathed the machete and crept down the remaining stairs. The bottom step creaked loudly; he had purposely never repaired the step – an added security measure.
‘Is that you Eddie?’ said his brother.
Eddie let out a sigh of relief at the sound of his brother’s voice, he turned the corner. ‘Oh fuck man, what’s happened to you.’
*
Thomas Makin sat in his favourite chair; he was still alive but the multiple bite wounds would soon see to that.
*
Eddie moved towards his brother slowly, the machete still in his hands. He sat in the chair closest to his brother. He knew it was the end; he had witnessed enough of those things biting and eating, turning their victims into more monsters.
Tommy didn’t know, they were only flesh wounds, they would heal, and he would regain his strength after some rest. That’s what he believed.
‘You don’t look too good Tommy’, said Eddie.
‘Yeah, I’ve seen better days. I got into a couple of scrapes with some crazy bastards. Fuckers were biting me; think they were high.’ He coughed hard, really hard. Black phlegm dripped down his chin.
Eddie was stuck; he didn’t know what to do. His younger brother sat in front of him, done for and he was helpless. He remembered the time when Tommy got knocked about by three bigger kids on his way home from school. Eddie had left a few months earlier and was working as a labourer on a building site. He had always been physically built but the work had added power to his size.
Tommy told him the story; he had a disagreement with a lad in his class. They arranged to resolve it with their fists after school. He had put up a good fight until his friends intervened and the numbers against him proved too much. He received a blackened eye and some facial cuts, nothing serious. The following day Eddie walked up to the three and laid out the two friends, Tommy added interest to the injuries he received.
Their father had deserted them when they were still waddling about. They didn’t remember or talk about him. Their mother was still alive until late last year, it had hit them hard. This was hitting Eddie harder.
Eddie sat in the chair closest to his brother; he laid the machete across the arm rest. He could see two bite wounds on both sides of Tommy’s forearm. A chunk of meat was missing from one, it was clearly infected. The skin around the edges of the wound looked blistered and deep red. The rest of the skin was greying. He had a seeping wound below his right ear.
‘Tommy, I think your wounds are going to get worse, you’re going to get worse.’
‘No, I’ll be OK once I have rested. I might need stitches but at least the bleeding has stopped.’
‘I’ve seen what happens from a bite,’ said Eddie.
‘I’m Ok,’ he snapped. The anger caused him to cough again. ‘Get me the vodka from the cupboard.’
‘What happened to you Tommy?’
‘When all the shit kicked off, I moved away from the centre, that’s usually where the horses charge, I didn’t fancy getting trampled.’ He looked down at his injuries. ‘I should have stayed put.’
Eddie didn’t usually show his emotions especially around his brother. They had a bond, of course they did, and it was an unwritten rule between them that they always had each other’s back. This time was different, Eddie knew he had failed his brother, a failure that could not be set right – this one was terminal. Eddie screwed the top from the vodka and poured a hefty glug into his mouth, he held it there awhile before swallowing. The burning liquid stung the back of his throat, his eyes glazed. He passed the bottle to Tommy; he did exactly the same before passing it back. Eddie almost took the bottle before realising the infection might pass to him. He held his hand up to decline.
‘More for me,’ said Tommy.
‘You were always the better drinker,’ smiled Eddie.
‘Lightweight, that’s what we called you.’
Eddie smiled again, ‘You did the drinking, and I did the thinking.’
They both laughed, brothers again talking about the good times. The vodka and the laughing caused Tommy to cough violently, a wad of black phlegm shot from his mouth. Eddie looked towards the machete; he touched the butt of the pistol – he wished he had drunk more of the vodka.
‘Will I turn into one of those fucking things?’
‘No.’ Replied Eddie a bit too loud and quick. ‘I won’t let that happen,’ his voice was softer.
‘What will you do?’
‘Please Tommy, leave it for now.’
‘I want to know.’
‘What the fuck for…for fuck’s sake Tommy.’
‘I need to know you won’t let me become one of those, that you will take care of me…promise me.’
‘Have I ever let you down before?’
‘Only once,’ came the swift reply.
Eddie glared at his brother, his mind trying to recall anytime he wasn’t there for his brother. The infection must be playing tricks on Tommy; he had always been there for him. Keeping calm he made the mistake of asking.
‘Tell me once when I haven’t been there for you,’ as he finished the sentence, he knew the answer before Tommy opened his mouth.
‘Last night Eddie, you left me and now I’m going to die,’ he began to sob.
Like most, Eddie didn’t like the truth when it was aimed at him. He didn’t reply he just watched his younger brother cry. Fear was something the Makin brothers didn’t acknowledge but here it was sitting and standing in their own home. Watching his brother cry in front of him was alien to Eddie, it had never happened. Even knowing his brother was close to death he couldn’t comfort him; they weren’t brought up that way.
Eddie looked at his brother; it was time to prepare for a world without him, a world of violence without recrimination – a world he was born for.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Manchester, Salford.
Early September…
The woman that approached him in his club several weeks earlier was elegant, her beauty travelled the length of her body. The low cut of her dress had distracted Harry, the high split in the leg fuelled his fantasy. She had this effect on men, the ability to have them do what she wanted. In truth, as much as Harry would have liked to have bent her over his office desk, he was much more interested in the briefcase of money that sat nestled between her shapely thighs.
Hazel had noticed them flirting, she watched as they went to his back office. Marcus Alcock stood outside the door; his hands cupped together in front of his groin. He was another of Harry’s heavies, he liked to live dangerously, that’s why he had an eye for Hazel. She motioned to go into the office.
‘Sorry Hazel,’ he said barring her path. ‘He is in a business meeting.’
‘You mean he is fucking her,’ she said calmly.
Marcus smiled sincerely, ‘Not this time, strictly business.’
‘Who is she?’
‘He didn’t say,’ replied Marcus.
She leaned in closer to him and moved his hands. She cupped his crotch firmly, feeling him go hard at her touch. ‘Who is she?’ she said again.
‘Tits and money - Harry would cut his own mother’s throat.’
‘Your tits are looking fine tonight,’ said Marcus smiling.
Hazel gave a seductive smile and flicked her hair. ‘If you don’t find out what she wants, all you’ll be doing is looking.’ She dropped the smile and walked away.
Marcus’s face hardened as the fire in his groin died out.
*
Inside the room Elizabeth Neri told Harry what she wanted him to do.
‘What’s in the gas, don’t think I’m going to sanction a fucking terrorist attack on my own patch.’ He said angrily.
‘The gas is pretty much harmless,’ she said in her accented English.
‘What does pretty fucking much mean?’
‘It means Mr Flowers that what I am asking you to do is release a small amount of bird flu. Just enough for a small epidemic to convince your government that leaving the EU is a mistake,’ she lied convincingly.
‘Why not release it yourself, why do you need me,’ the question was a good one and one that she had planned for.
‘Mr Flowers you are well respected in the business world, in both business worlds.’ She referred to both the legitimate and criminal worlds. ‘It would be hugely disrespectful to come into your world and carry out such a protest without gaining your permission first. My organisation deals in finance not violence, for that we seek partners. That is why I now sit in front of you with this tribute.’