The Good, The Bad & The Dead | Book 1 | Once Upon A Time In An Undead World

by Grimes, A. L.

  Gerry had stood between him and the exit door, his eyes white and bloody chunks missing from his arms. Miles felt sadness to see Gerry in this way. Yes, he had manipulated him for years but now all that was done with he realised that Gerry was his only friend and he couldn’t leave him this way.

  In life Gerry was agile for a man of his size but now he stumbled towards Miles with an unsteady lurch. He used Gerry’s wobble to his advantage. The big man reached out; Miles didn’t try to communicate he knew Gerry had gone. He side stepped his grab and smashed the baton into Gerry’s knee. He hit the floor like a fallen tree. Miles hesitated for a second, just to remember the real Gerry before he carried out the act of mercy and rammed a stabbing stick into the base of his skull. Gerry lay peaceful, surrounded by the carnage of ripped body parts.

  Outside a few remaining people fighting for their lives acted as a distraction. Miles climbed into the car and drove through the raised gate. He reached into his pocket and took out the doctor’s address.

  *

  Dr Martin woke from his screaming nightmare. The monsters sank their teeth into him for the last time. They recognised one of their own and let him be. They moved off in search of more food. Dr Martin moved to follow, the restraints that Miles had put in place prevented his involvement, the doctor began to scream again – this time the pain was hunger.

  *

  This was Miles’ first taste of the outdoors for three years. He had never felt deprived of his freedom, he was where he needed to be. It felt good to him that the person he was had ceased to exist. The maniac, the serial killer whatever description he had been labelled with would now be gone. The country possibly the world was falling apart and he intended on being one of the people who was going to help put it right.

  He knew deep inside he had been really messed up, the way in which he had executed his enemies had proven that. He had wanted them to feel as frightened and powerless as he had been when they used him. Now he felt relieved, the burden had been lifted and he was going to be the man he should have been. A giver, a helper…a saviour.

  He stopped the car suddenly. Three dead creatures were feasting in the middle of the road. Their meal looked to be a young woman, she was thin with long black hair and her face had been eaten. Miles felt a wave of anger engulf him, his eyes rested on the overturned pushchair, a small hat keeping it company. He saw the ripped clothes and a crimson smear…a tear crept from his eye.

  Miles took hold of the baton and one of his metal spears. He stepped from the car and took in the carnage all around him. The world would forget about him, it had bigger problems to deal with and bigger monsters to defend against. One of the undead looked towards him, its face smeared with blood. He looked at the creature as it began to rise and realised his life of killing hadn’t ended.

  He pulverised the three dead creatures into true death. Further down the road he could see more of the dead shuffling toward him. As he turned towards the car he didn’t like the sound that called him. He turned back to see the dead mother sitting up, her arms reaching towards him.

  ‘Now that’s interesting,’ he said remorsefully.

  He had understood that the bite of an infected would turn a healthy person into a flesh-eating monster, he didn’t know that it had to die first. He didn’t think about what he had to do. The other three had been an act of fury this would be an act of mercy.

  Afterwards he sat in the car for a few moments and thought about his own mother, his face remained emotionless but he felt warmth inside…to live in this new world he would have to walk a fine line between angel and monster. He encountered many more acts of violence on his journey, many by his hand but not all. He stopped to help people under attack from both the dead and the living. He hurt a man who tried to take the car from him, he caused his death. He struck the man with the baton and he fell, Miles jumped into the car and drove off. In the rear-view mirror he could see the dead fall on the man as he tried to get to his feet. He was a casualty of an undead war and he was bound to be one of many. He pushed his foot hard into the accelerator – he had a life to save.

  Miles entered the tree lined street of the dead doctor. The trees had shed their leaves and they now littered the kerbs and driveways of the apparent exclusive street. There were no council families residing here, the street had until recently screamed wealth and greed . Now it only screamed pain and death. The rich liked to leave their homes in full view, curtains drawn to allow the neighbours to see their worth. Miles drove slowly watching the rich through their huge French windows, now dead and moving aimlessly around their homes like goldfish in a bowl.

  He stopped at the house he wanted. The scene didn’t look good. Miles turned off the engine and reached for his weapons. He stepped from the car and observed the street. He could hear the dead moan but not close enough to cause a threat. He walked up the path.

  The door was open, blood smeared across the walls. He crept inside and listened, nothing at first then he heard a faint noise. The noise a child makes when frightened and hiding. He checked the ground floor, kitchen, dining room…nobody. He reached the stairs, a trail of blood led upwards. He steadied his weapons. Miles didn’t feel fear but he feared what he would find.

  The first door he tried was empty, it looked like a spare room although expensively laid out. The second room door was open, he peered inside. It was the master suite, large and lavish. Mrs Martin limped from the en-suite, her face a snarled wreckage of blood and ravaged meat. The foot that limped had been twisted in a grotesque way, it pointed inwards towards the other foot. She moved towards him, her once well-manicured hands now bloody claws reaching for him, jaws and teeth snapping at him. Miles stomped into her right knee and she crashed to the floor, he rammed his metal spear through the side of her head. He heard the whimper again. It came from the door that adjoined the room.

  Miles pushed open the door, the stench was powerful the scene even more so. The room was out of place in a house so extravagant. It resembled a dungeon more than a bedroom. He could see shackles bolted to the wall; obscene toys scattered across the floor. An overflowing bucket in the corner filled with urine and excrement was the reason for the offensive smell. In the opposite corner a medium sized dog cage sat occupied. A thin soiled mattress was the only thing that separated the small frightened child from the cage floor.

  Miles felt rage erupt through every fibre of his body. For so long he had suppressed the feelings of his own abuse but the scene before him unlocked his memories. He heard the young boy whimper. He kneeled beside the cage, the boys back was bruised, his face turned from Miles.

  Miles touched the cold steel of the cage. ‘It’s ok, I’m not going to hurt you’, he said gently. The boy didn’t answer. Miles began to open the cage door, the boy tried to climb in further.

  ‘Please, I’m not going to hurt you…I promise. I want to help’.

  ‘They all say that they won’t hurt me…but they do.’

  ‘I’m not like them, I’m like you…they hurt me too.’

  He turned to face Miles, his face was bruised and dirty. Miles could see more pain in his eyes than on his body. He gave the boy a faint smile and reached out his hand.

  ‘It’s ok now, you’re going to be ok…I promise.’

  ‘What about the monsters outside,’ asked the boy?

  ‘I’ve taken care of them,’ smiled Miles.

  ‘Ok,’ said the boy. He moved towards the door, trusting someone for the first time in a long time.

  Miles extended his hand, ‘Trust me you’re ok now.’ But he wasn’t.

  Miles took hold of the frightened boy’s hand and noticed the bite mark on his fragile arm. He also noticed that the infection was spreading. Miles couldn’t stop the smile from fading and the boy didn’t know why.

  *

  Miles took the boy into his arms and held him; the boy snuggled in close. He didn’t know the coldness he felt creep through his body was an infection that would turn him into a monster. Miles gave the boy the
warmth he craved, not just physically but emotionally too. Miles had set out on his journey to save a boy he didn’t know, he had almost succeeded.

  The boy sat cradled in the nook of Miles’ arm, he looked up. Miles could see his eyes glazed and losing their colour. ‘What is your name?’

  ‘My name is Miles.’

  The boy smiled, ‘Pleased to meet you, my name is Peter.’ He extended a tiny hand.

  Miles shook it, ‘Pleased to meet you Peter.’

  ‘What happened to my mum, she is sick isn’t she – like the others outside.’

  ‘She was,’ said Miles. ‘She is quiet now.’

  ‘She isn’t my real mum, she bit my arm,’ he said directing his eyes towards the infection. ‘My good mum died when I was a baby.’

  ‘I’ve got you now,’ said Miles gently.

  ‘Will you be my dad?’

  Miles thought nothing could take him by surprise let alone a child but he was wrong. The question didn’t only cause surprise, it overwhelmed him. The boy sat in his lap was making him feel human again. He answered with the only response appropriate. ‘Yes, it would be my pleasure.’ Miles cried as Peter died in his arms.

  *

  He sat with Peter as long as he could. He didn’t want to see Peter become a tiny monster craving his flesh. He had only known the boy for minutes but he had been touched. Miles had been with him when his pain had ended, he didn’t want to see it begin again. He took his metal spear and was gentle. Peter rested in peace.

  Miles took the sheet from the king size bed and wrapped Peter in it. He carried the boy’s body to the rear garden, resting him gently on the ground. He kicked in the shed door and took out a spade. He dug a grave for Peter - big and deep enough so he wouldn’t be disturbed. He placed him inside the hole and hesitated before putting back the soil. Miles gripped the shovel hard as he forced it into the soil, he held on for several seconds before leaving it stood at the head of the grave. He picked up his weapons, took an axe from the shed and stormed towards the house never looking back.

  He spent several minutes in the house gathering supplies from the kitchen. He noticed the large range cooker, ideal he thought. He climbed into the Mercedes and drove away as the flames began to spread up the expensive curtains. As he reached the end of the road the flames ignited the escaping gas. The windows of the house exploded outwards; the windows of the neighbours blew inwards. The fire engulfed the house of horrors while glass rained on the street.

  Miles didn’t know where he was going but he passed a motorway and thought that was a good place to start. He headed in that direction.

  *

  Frank Temple could see the flames rising above the tree line. He could also see the Mercedes in the distance, it was being tailgated by a 4x4 that seemed intent on running it off the road. He frowned; they were both heading in his direction.

  Part Four

  Alliances...

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Leeds, Northern UK

  Jack wrestled with the freshly animated corpse, he thought he recognised her from a couple of floors down. Her skin was mottled and the life had extinguished from her dead eyes but her features were the same. Luckily for him she was stick thin and as weak in death as her frame suggested in life. Her left arm had snapped in the fall and was useless, Jack held her other arm firmly while jamming his forearm tightly under her chin. She snapped at him as she squirmed atop of him.

  Amy ran to the doors as Professor Randall limped into sight. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ she said forgetting about Jack.

  ‘Some fucking help if you don’t mind,’ he cried. Jack may have been the stronger for the short period but the dead girl’s stamina was limitless.

  Amy jammed the bat into the handlebars of the door just as the professor raised his hands. The door rattled but held firm, for now. The professor snarled through the glass. Amy could see the chunk of flesh missing from his neck, the source of the infection.

  Jack whimpered as the dead girl’s face got closer to his. Something snapped as Amy planted a foot into her ribs. She rolled to the side and growled, not through pain but hunger.

  ‘You took your time,’ he snapped.

  ‘I told you to stay away from the fucking lift, you nearly had us both done for.’

  ‘I forgot okay, I’m too busy concentrating on not shitting myself.’

  ‘Jack,’ she said. ‘You’re my best friend and I love you.’ He knew she was serious. ‘But you have to be a part of this not a passenger, because one or both of us will end up like her.’ She pointed to the dead girl.

  ‘You didn’t hit me,’ he smiled.

  ‘No Jack I didn’t, because I don’t want my last memory of us to be you with a red face.’ She didn’t smile.

  The dead girl was on her feet and stumbling towards them.

  ‘I get it, I do,’ he said as he took a knife from her. As the dead girl reached out Jack jammed the blade into her temple. She hit the floor between them.

  She wrapped her arms around him, he responded with the same hold. He could see the snarling face of the professor, ‘Being dead hasn’t improved the professor’s approach has it,’ he said.

  Amy smiled as she held him, ‘Maybe it’s time for that slap.’

  Before he could reply the bat began to splinter, the professor had been joined by the rest and the door was going to give anytime soon.

  ‘We have to move,’ said Amy.

  They both knew their options were a lot worse than bad.

  *

  ‘Where the fuck are we going to go?’ yelped Jack.

  ‘Against my better judgement and instructions to you – I think we’ve got to try the lift,’ she replied.

  ‘Too risky,’ he said. ‘You were right the first time. We’re asking for trouble by getting trapped in there.’

  ‘That was before Jack.’

  ‘Before what?’ he interrupted.

  ‘Before that crowd of rotting fuckbags found their way up the stairs.’

  He thought about it for a minute, ‘Nope, I’m not getting it.’

  ‘Look, she said. Jack looked towards the crowd of dead, it was getting bigger and louder. The dead were moaning, all out of tune.

  He looked at her blankly, ‘We’re going to be eaten aren’t we?’

  ‘No Jack, you’re going to be eaten while I escape.’ She let that sink in for a second, waited for his expression to display the fear then told him. ‘You really are thick Jack, if they are all heading this way, that means there will be fewer downstairs. Maybe just a handful that we can get through.’

  ‘What if you’re wrong?’

  ‘Then most of the time, it’s been good knowing you.’ Her expression was more frown than smile.

  ‘We could…’

  She cut him off quickly, ‘We can’t go back Jack - these things are hunting us. They are almost on us, if we go back we are only boxing ourselves in and making it easier.’ She cupped her hands around his face. ‘We run, we fight and we may survive.’

  ‘We stay, we die.’ He conceded.

  ‘We can do this Jack; it won’t be long until my dad gets here ok.’

  ‘What’s the plan?’

  ‘Good question.’ She said.

  Then the bat cracked and the dead spilled through the gaping doors.

  *

  Amy moved the quickest, she raced towards the lift pulling Jack with her. His body didn’t resist. Amy pressed the button, the doors opened instantly. Jack was bounced from one side to the other and dragged through the open doors. Amy hit the button to close the doors. She thought for a moment and then jabbed the ground floor button. The lift was well known for its speed.

  ‘Get ready Jack.’

  They steadied themselves in an attacking stance, knives held high in a stabbing motion.

  The doors opened, ‘Oh fuck,’ said Jack.

  What Amy saw convinced her that they may be the only survivors in the block. The foyer was thick with dead bodies, most of them walking about. The dea
d turned towards them, almost surprised.

  Amy was sharp, she had already pressed the third floor button before the nearest monster had taken its first step towards them. The doors closed and the lift ascended once more. They heard the dead slapping on the doors – above and below.

  They stood ready for combat; the doors opened. The corridor was empty except for one pathetic creature, obviously left behind by the rest. Amy put it out of its misery before it had time to snap its jaws once. Jack stood in the lift, Amy pulled him out before his idiotic reflexes caused him to push another button. He still held the knife in a stabbing motion.

  ‘Put the knife down Jack.’

  ‘Is it safe?’ he asked.

  ‘Is it fuck,’ she replied. ‘Now put the knife down before you have an eye out.’

  Jack released the tension in his arm and lowered the knife to his side. ‘What now?’ he said.

  ‘We need to check these dorms, find an empty one or clear one out and secure ourselves inside until my dad gets here.’

  ‘Let’s do it quick before I need to find a clean pair of pants,’ he said.

  Amy moved to the doors that separated the hallway from the dorm corridor, she stopped. She stood motionless, listening. ‘What,’ said Jack’ ‘I don’t hear anything.’

  ‘Me neither,’ replied Amy. ‘The banging on the lift doors has stopped.’

  Amy headed to the window that overlooked the forecourt. Dead people wandered aimlessly, bumping and turning into each other. They had no focus, not like the ones in the building – their attention was motivated by two fresh meals running about the floors. She headed to the stairwell, the groaning of the dead above and below stood the hairs up on her neck.

  There was no way to barricade the door, in another few minutes they would be pouring into the third floor on top of them. She should’ve listened to Jack, it was her fault they would probably get eaten. She wished she had left her dad a note. She thought about phoning him, maybe she would if it really came down to it.