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

by Grimes, A. L.

  Hazel looked on in horror at the monstrosities that were being walked across her lawn. They hissed and reached out at the men around them. Their senses heightened by the aromas of the human flesh. The men backed up; they had not seen anything like this before. Most of them knew that Harry was fucked in the head, but this had taken his notoriety to new heights.

  ‘For fucks sake Harry, not this,’ said Marcus.

  Harry gave out a laugh that sent a chill creeping down Hazel’s back. She had heard this laugh only a few times, but she knew its meaning.

  ‘They’re not for you, well not yet anyway. They’re for her,’ he said nodding towards Melanie.

  ‘Harry, please no. Do me, just me. Let Melanie go,’ he pleaded.

  ‘No fucking way,’ said Hazel standing in front of Melanie.

  ‘Bull,’ said Harry ignoring the pleas of them both.

  Bull handed his noose to Erik who managed to control both the dead with ease. He headed towards Melanie. Hazel stood strong. Bull looked towards Harry. ‘Not too hard,’ said Harry.

  Bull shoved Hazel to the floor, two of Harry’s men prevented her from moving. Melanie got a shove too, she looked up at the huge man towering over her. ‘Please no,’ she said unsure of what would happen next.

  Bull stamped down hard on her ankle. Bones snapped and crunched under his boot. Melanie cried out in pain. ‘You bastard,’ screamed Hazel. ‘Leave her alone.’

  Marcus cried similar. ‘I’ll kill you for that Harry,’ he hissed.

  ‘No you won’t,’ said Harry. He nodded to Erik.

  Hazel, Marcus and Melanie screamed in unison as Erik released the dead. The two dead creatures fell on Melanie. The spikes of the dead punctured her body and their hungry mouths tore into her flesh. Hazel looked away; Bull forced her to watch. The dead scratched away at her stomach until her entrails spilled. Marcus was still screaming.

  After a few minutes, the dead were pulled away. Erik fired a bullet into the brain of Melanie to ensure she didn’t get up.

  Marcus was snivelling, ‘You bastard, you are a fucking bastard how could you be so evil.’

  Harry turned to Marcus. ‘Don’t blame me for her death that is all on you. Granted her death may have been creative and for that you can hold me responsible but the circumstances in which she arrived here is all down to you.’

  ‘Cut me loose and settle this man to man.’

  ‘Are you kidding and spoil the fun,’ said Harry. Melanie was just their starter. You are going to be the main course,’ said Harry with a smile.

  ‘You’re going to hell Harry Flowers,’ said Marcus.

  ‘I do believe we are already there,’ he replied as he moved out of the way of the advancing dead.

  The dead were released from their holds. They fed on Marcus till his screams had faded. Erik fired another bullet into a brain.

  ‘What should we do with these two,’ asked Bull referring to the dead.

  ‘I like having them around,’ replied Harry. ‘Chain one either side of the gate. They can be a reminder.’

  Harry walked over to Hazel and extended his hand to her. ‘Fuck off,’ she said.

  ‘Now, now,’ he replied. ‘Consider yourself lucky you wasn’t dessert.’

  ‘You are a sick and evil bastard.’

  ‘I’m also your husband and not many husbands would turn a blind eye to his wife’s indiscretions,’ he said calmly.

  ‘My indiscretions, you have got to be joking.’

  Harry ignored her. ‘Will you please pick my wife up Bull and escort her back into the house. It is getting dangerous in this neighbourhood. Could somebody please clear up the mess outside?’

  Bull reached down to help Hazel to her feet. ‘Get your fucking hands off me,’ she said as she rose.

  Harry could feel the stare of his wife bore into the back of his head. He believed it to be sheer anger, an anger that would subside in time. Hazel knew it was much more than anger, she knew the only way to escape was to kill Harry and that was what she intended to do if it was the last thing she ever did.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  North Wales, UK.

  Ronnie had instructed the few residents that remained to secure the village. Aaron bellowed out instructions. Ronnie was debating whether to leave immediately after the slaughter of the soldiers, Aaron had talked sense into him, maybe they should rest up and head out when the darkness came. Ronnie had agreed, he was still feeling the effects of getting hit in the head twice. Big Nev had not forgiven Ronnie for killing his brother and niece and with his nephew now dead his thinking was that when and if order was restored he would be there to see justice served. After seeing what was left of the army and how easy Ronnie had killed them, he was certain that order would never be restored or worse, he would have to become a killer like Ronnie and Aaron .Big Nev’s suggested they should rest in different houses through the village, each one acting as a look out. It made sense. Big Nev took the house closest to the village entrance, if he heard anything he would raise the alarm.

  Big Nev crept out of the village and was gone. He didn’t take a vehicle, no need to attract attention. He lived just under three miles away and was certain he could make it on foot. The route was manly the A road that would lead into town, he could skirt around the more populated area onto the B road that barely had traffic or people. He thought about crossing the fields but at some stage he would have to cross the River Dee and that would mean being wet and cold. He decided he would chance the road.

  He had received one of the dead soldiers Glocks, which was now strapped to his leg. He had his shotgun and opted for his sledgehammer over the axe. With hammer in one hand and his gun in the other he slipped out of the village quietly but not before leaving the front door wide open. He slipped the handbrake off the transit van blocking the entrance and rolled it back slowly.

  Big Nev was a church goer and not a man to cuss normally but the world he now lived in was not normal. ‘Fuck you Ronnie,’ he said as he slipped away into the open road.

  *

  Aaron and Ronnie watched as Big Nev scurried up the main road. ‘You should have let me put a bullet in his face,’ said Aaron.

  ‘The man had a right to choose,’ replied Ronnie. ‘Besides, it would only have been a matter of time before we came to blows. I know I wouldn’t have forgiven a man who had killed my brother.’

  ‘You got a brother?’ asked Aaron.

  ‘I had two,’ he replied.

  ‘Are they gone; you know…dead?’

  ‘Probably,’ replied Ronnie. ‘Enough of the chat, let’s get that van back in place before the dead wander through again.’

  ‘I’ll sort it,’ replied Aaron. He left Ronnie to think about his brothers. Ronnie hoped they were still alive but deep down he knew they were rash and mostly stupid.

  *

  Big Nev was able to avoid the few dead that wandered about the main road. He hid behind trees and jumped over walls. A lone house was situated about two hundred metres from the village, its owner was stumbling about, trapped by the wall and gate. Big Nev knew Mr Evans, he would often wave as he drove past, now he reached out for Big Nev with no fondness just hunger. Big Nev crushed his skull, it was the least he could do.

  Further down Big Nev could see a small gathering of the dead. He jumped a fence and went slowly across the field. The sky had darkened considerably with storm clouds, the rain fell heavy, it helped Big Nev blend in however the constant bad weather had reduced the fields to boggy marshes, he was ankle deep in mud and cow shit. The cow shit had masked the stench of death. He tripped over the half-eaten carcass of a cow as he turned a corner into a field. He went down on all fours, the hammer slipped form his grasp as his knees landed in mud and his hands settled in the intestines of the dead animal. When he heard the first groan, he thought it was the cow, then he heard a second and a third groan. He pulled his hands out and scrambled back.

  The field had once housed a herd of fifty strong cattle. He remembered the cows, all black and
white patched, some standing by the fence gawping at the passing traffic, others grazing and the lazy ones sleeping. The herd still remained in the field, all but none lying face down in mud and their own shit while the dead feasted on their corpses. There were more dead people in the field than he had witnessed in the village attack. They began to rise from their meals and head towards him. The first one crashed over the dead cow and reached for his foot, he kicked it away. He watched them topple over each other in their haste to get to him. Fortunately almost half of the dead went back to their meal the other half, almost forty of them headed in his direction.

  He jumped to his feet and turned to run, he heard the moan as he crashed into the dead person, man, woman or child he didn’t know or care, he just flung it to one side with ease. A groan to his right, his left, in front, behind – he was surrounded. He spun quickly disorientating himself, now he didn’t know which direction the road was in. Disfigured and bloodied faces roared at him. He took the shotgun from over his shoulder and smashed in nearby faces with the butt. The dead fell and others fell over them. He felt a tug at his shoulder, he swivelled and bashed in a face. More of the dead were attracted by the scuffle. He had no choice.

  He fired the shotgun and took out several of the dead in front of him. He fired again. Big Nev was trying to blast an escape route through the dead. He aimed the shotgun at the bodies, not to kill but to disable and cause disruption amongst their ranks. It was a gamble but one he had to take. The noise from the gun attracted the rest of the dead, they were all on their feet and heading towards him.

  *

  The sound of the shotgun could be heard in the village. ‘Sounds like Big Nev has run into some trouble,’ said Aaron.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Ronnie. ‘Wake me up in an hour.’ He rolled over and went to sleep.

  *

  Big Nev was able to reload and fire three more times before the shotgun was wrestled away by grabbing arms. He pulled the Glock and fired into the crowd; the dead continued to fall. He pushed forward as he shot, breaking through the dead circle. The gun was empty, he used it a club as he drove forward. The fence was in reaching distance. One final push and he would be over it, he was breathing heavy and his lungs were burning. He smashed the rotting teeth out of the last dead thing to stand in his way. With great effort he threw himself over the fence and into a brief safety. The dead that had crowded the road had thinned to a few, the rest had entered the small gap in the fence, eager to join in the frenzy. With laboured breath Big Nev picked himself up and dodged the scattered dead. He made it to the only other house on the road and literally fell over the wall. His breath was heavier now.

  He slumped against the wall, convinced he was having a heart attack. His head swirled and he felt dizzy. He hadn’t exerted himself this much since his rugby playing days twenty years past. He got lost in the memories of his rugby exploits. He remembered the tries he scored, the bruises, broken bones, the illegal head-butts – he didn’t need to remember the cauliflower ears, he still had those. He had had a good life, plenty of women and booze filled nights at the pub.

  He thought he would die peacefully in his sleep sometime in the next thirty years. His dad had lived until he was in his eighties, that’ll do for me he often said. Now here he was sitting in his own shit - that must’ve happened when the dead lunged for him. It was enough to make any grown man shit himself. He didn’t want to die of a heart attack, on his own, surrounded by the dead. If only he could get back to his own bed. He tried to get up but he didn’t have the energy. An attractive woman walked around the side of the house. She was dressed in riding gear minus the helmet, her brunette hair was long. She had a limp, he guessed she must’ve fell from her horse. He needed her to be quicker because he was feeling weaker by the second. As she got closer, Big Nev could see that she was no longer attractive. The side of her face had been exposed to the bone. Her white shirt had been darkened with blood. She limped towards him. He sat and waited. The woman passed him by and disappeared around the other side of the house. Big Nev felt relief, maybe now he could get home. He touched the oozing wound on his right hand, it was stinging his nerves. The bite on his left arm was no better. The bite on his calf just above the ankle was the worst, he had stamped the biter’s head in for that. Big Nev dozed off.

  When he woke the woman was on her next lap of the house. Big Nev got up and joined her, he’d forgotten all about his bed.

  *

  Ronnie had struggled to sleep at first, tossing about in a bed of a recently deceased villager. He hadn’t got to know the woman but he recognised her from the pictures dotted around the house. She had been a brandy drinker and that was what he used to help him close his eyes and dream. He dreamt he was back in Manchester, walking the isles of the supermarket he worked at, checking prices and sell by dates. Nodding at staff, saying hello to customers, checking out the female arses as they bent over to examine one of the many useless things they stocked.

  He bumped into Shirley, the shelf stacker from aisle six, Shirley flirted with Ronnie on a daily basis. On the odd day she didn’t flirt she was direct and had tried to entice Ronnie into a quiet part of the store room. Ronnie has always responded with a ‘sorry love, I’m happily settled down’ – he wasn’t lying. He loved getting home to Stacey and little Ron. The kid would be waiting for him at the door, hopping from foot to foot with excitement. He would scoop him up and carry him into the kitchen where Stacey would be busying herself making tea. His free arm would creep around her waist and they would all squash themselves together.

  In his dream Shirley wasn’t flirting with him, she wasn’t trying to get him in the back. She was screaming something he couldn’t make out, she held her injured arm as blood oozed out – she looked like she had been bitten. Further up the store a commotion had broken out, he could see the security guard being attacked. He walked towards the chaos.As he rounded the corner, the screams were screeching louder than the mundane music the store played. He picked up a bottle of Prosecco from the sale display, he held it like a cosh.

  Carl the security guard was lying face down in a pool of his own blood, customers and staff were eating him. Ronnie edged back the way he came, he bumped into something, the display unit. He looked down to see little Ron staring back at him, snarling with blood red teeth and white eyes. Ronnie let out a pained cry. The dead continued to eat Carl, except one, she looked up at Ronnie with the same white eyes and bloody mouth. Ronnie locked eyes with dead Stacey. He backed away as they both moved towards him. Ronnie desperately wanted out of his dream but the amount of brandy kept him locked in. Unable to wake, he ran. He headed towards the back of the store, into the huge storeroom.

  Shirley the randy shelf stacker waited for him; the flirting was back on. She was standing with open arms waiting for him, her lips a crimson smear like badly applied make up. Her lunch had included the forklift truck driver, Ronnie couldn’t remember his name, one of the nameless many, now he was also faceless. She lurched towards him. Always buy a girl a drink first his granddad had told him, he duly obliged – hitting Shirley repeatedly with the bottle until she hit the floor and the bottle smashed. Behind him, Stacey and little Ron followed. Ronnie tried all the doors, they were locked. He ran up and down aisles, they followed. He had become lost in the storeroom, no longer able to find the way he had entered. The lights were fading, he could hear them after him. He felt trapped and unable to move, he felt his body slip down the wall, the lights had gone and the darkness suffocated him.

  He heard his name, ‘Ronnie, Ronnie, Ronnie.’ She was coming for him.

  The spotlight above him shone bright, causing him to grimace, her face leaned in - she kicked his foot.

  ‘Ronnie, Ronnie,’ the foot kicked him again. The final kick shook him out of his dream and back into the nightmare he was living. Aaron stood over him, the curtains had been pulled back to reveal a day just as miserable as his dream.

  ‘I thought you might need this,’ said Aaron handing over a steaming mug of co
ffee.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said reaching up.

  ‘Bad dream?’ Aaron asked.

  ‘Something like that,’ he replied. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘No idea,’ replied Aaron looking at his watch less wrist.

  ‘I don’t suppose it matters. I’ll drink this and throw some water on my face. Then we are out of this shithole,’ Ronnie replied.

  ‘The Rover is all packed and ready to go.’

  ‘Fuck, you’re keen,’ said Ronnie.

  ‘Why not, there’s fuck all here now. The ones who are left will soon be dead, or partly eaten and back up walking about again. The prospects were never great here in the first place, now they are fucking zero. The sooner we are gone the better.’ Aaron had grown into his toughness.

  Ronnie attempted to stand. ‘Jesus,’ he said. ‘My head feels like something is trying to bang its way out.’ He rubbed his temples.

  ‘Lucky for you I found these,’ he said as he tossed Ronnie a packet of paracetamol.

  ‘You are full of surprises.’

  ‘We need to look after each other now, my mother has gone. You are on your own now,’ Aaron looked down, avoiding Ronnie’s eyes. ‘Until we find your brothers,’ he added.

  ‘Yeah, I’m not sure they have the brains between them to keep themselves safe,’ he said to Aaron. He felt a moment of regret over Aaron’s mother, it soon passed.

  ‘They might prove you wrong,’ he replied.

  Ronnie swung of the bed and planted his feet on the floor. He slapped Aaron on the back, ‘They’ve never done so before, I doubt the end of the world will be any different.’

  He trudged towards the bathroom as he screwed off the lid of paracetamol, popping a couple into his mouth, he chewed them hoping they would absorb into his system quicker. The tasteless chalky paste almost caused him to baulk. He splashed some cold water into his face and sprayed some female deodorant under his arms. He pissed the brandy into the pan, all bathroom duties taken care of, it was time to go.They boarded the Rover, Ronnie had relinquished the driving duties, his head still throbbed and he didn’t want to end up in another ditch. Curtains twitched from the few remaining tenants, barricaded behind their own doors, fearful of the dead and the living. If the dead didn’t get them, starvation would. Aaron had already parted the entrance barricades. The dead had begun to seep through, it wouldn’t be long before it was overrun again. Aaron eased out, knocking over the dead, crunching bones as he went. The dead reached out for the vehicle; Ronnie looked out at them blankly. His dream was still playing in his mind, he was also leaving his loved ones in this place. They drove cautiously along the A road as more of the dead stumbled into their path. They passed a field that resembled a battle ground. Dead cattle littered the floor, most of them partly eaten. The dead limped about, blood stained and grotesque.