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

by Grimes, A. L.

  ‘It’s freezing,’ he stuttered.

  ‘Get a fucking move on then,’ snapped Ronnie.

  Derek turned and started to breaststroke with ease towards the boat.

  ‘Lying prick, said Aaron. ‘He is swimming like a pro.’

  ‘Yeah, I can see,’ said Ronnie.

  ‘There may be a slight flaw in your plan,’ said Jane.

  ‘Yeah what’s that?’ Asked Ronnie.

  ‘Derek is not the most reliable person. We know he lies, has no regard for his family and I don’t think he is to fond of us either,’ she said.

  ‘What’s your point?’ Said Ronnie.

  ‘Do you really think he will bring the boat over to us or just sail along the river without us?’ She responded.

  ‘Shit,’ said Ronnie. He took off his boots and handed his weapons to Aaron.

  ‘What are you doing?’ He asked.

  ‘I’m going to make sure he comes back. I may get a quick rundown of how to steer the fucking boat then throttle the prick.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Aaron.

  By the time Ronnie had flung himself headfirst into the river, Derek was just pulling himself up into the cruiser. He quickened his pace when he saw Ronnie powering through the water. He found a pole with a hook on the end. Payback is a bitch he thought.

  Ronnie reached the boat and pulled himself up. ‘Stop there,’ said Derek aiming the pole at Ronnie’s face.

  If Derek had been surer of himself his temporary courage may have resulted in things going his way. Unfortunately he overestimated himself and massively underestimated Ronnie. Ronnie grabbed the end of the pole, pulled back then pushed forward. The end of the pole struck Derek just below the eye and propelled him backwards onto his arse. Ronnie climbed aboard and stood over Derek menacingly.

  ‘Ever try anything like that again and I’ll…oh shite,’ he said.

  Ronnie looked across the water to the jetty were he had left Aaron and Jane only moments earlier. Aaron was now sprawled across the platform with blood leaking from his nose. He had been relieved of his weapons except for his axe. Ronnie’s axe lay were he had left it. Jane was making her way up the sloped road. She had one Glock holstered around her waist, the other in her hand. Her axe she held tightly in her right hand; the shotgun slung over her back.

  Ronnie smiled and saluted her. Jane turned and never looked back.

  Part Five

  Tought times call for tough people...

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  The Battle of Colton Cricket Club, Leeds.

  On the night the dead woke and walked the earth, it was business as usual in the club.

  Colton Cricket Club was exactly what it said it was. A community cricket team that had produced generations of amateur cricketers. They had played a home game and won convincingly, there was plenty of back slapping and merriment. Across the way was a decent sized housing estate full of cul-de-sacs all aptly named – The Wickets, Boundary Close and Cricketers Walk. Behind the estate was a large retail park and another housing estate.

  While the celebrations of another win by the cricket club had been in full flow an eruption of the dead had taken hold in the retail park. Like the other outbreaks, there was no understanding of how or exactly when it had occurred. The cricket club had barely taken notice to the newsflashes that had interrupted the sports coverage. In truth this middle-class community didn’t give a shit what was happening in other parts of the country, they were happy in their own bubble. What did cause them concern was the council’s proposed idea of allowing a community of travellers to set up base at the bottom of their road on an unused field.

  A petition was signed, complaints were filed, and it was topic of conversation most nights in the club. Adam’s dad John had been very vocal about the community going downhill, not to mention the expected fall in house prices when the gypsy circus arrived in town.

  He was often the one to start the debate and defamation of the traveller community. ‘Gypsies in Colton for god’s sake, has anybody seen that programme on channel 4 – my big fat gypsy wedding, it’s a disgrace.’

  ‘Lock up your wives and daughters,’ shouted Eric.

  ‘It’s the goats and sheep I’m worried about,’ said Peter.

  Everyone laughed. ‘We can’t have riff raff like these people coming into our community, disobeying laws, pilfering and fornicating in the street.’

  ‘Hear, hear,’ said a voice in the back.

  John was on his soap box now. ‘We have a duty to prevent this from happening. We are protecting our children’s futures.’

  Clapping, cheering and foot stomping sang from the cricket club.

  Outside Declan, Mickey, Connor and Flynn all walked up the tarmac path. They had stopped at the gated entrance and read the sign.

  ‘What does it say Mickey?’ Asked Declan.

  ‘It says it’s a community sports club.’

  ‘I don’t want to be playing no sports,’ said Flynn. ‘I’m just looking for a pint.’

  ‘You fecking ejit, it’s a club that sells beer.’

  ‘That’s ok then,’ said Flynn taking no offence.

  ‘It might be members only,’ said Connor.

  ‘We are now members of the community,’ replied Mickey. ‘Just as soon as the council sign the papers.’

  The travellers had moved in about two months earlier. The police had initially asked them to move on, but they liked the place and decided to stay. They kept themselves to themselves most of the time, although there had been a few skirmishes with the local youths. The travellers were loud and brash amongst themselves and they had tried to keep a low profile but like every other human they needed to eat. When shopping for groceries they were often met with stares and derogatory comments. The men ignored the insults but stepped up when the females had to endure hostilities.

  Mickey was known by the locals; he was the leader. He stepped in when trouble needed resolving, acting as the peacemaker. His patience’s were tolerant but only to a certain degree as one local found out when he overused the word pikey and gypo. The local had never had his throat gripped so tightly. Mickey apologised with a warning straight afterwards. He hasn’t heard either word spoke in his presence again. He kept himself out of the spotlight until now.

  As the four walked up the path towards the club they could hear police sirens behind them. ‘Feck, Mickey we’ve only just stepped off the reservation.’ They roared with laughter.

  ‘I hope those kids are behaving, you know what they are like once my back is turned,’ said Mickey.

  ‘Aye, exactly how we used to behave,’ said Connor.

  ‘Used to,’ said Declan. We’re still a bunch of fecking idiots.’

  ‘Yes we are,’ said Mickey as they reached the doors.

  Inside the club the soap box was still out, others taking their turn to condemn the travellers. The door swung open and in stepped the four. The silence was only broken by an exaggerated gasp from one of the locals.

  The men walked towards the bar, all eyes on them. ‘Giveusfourpintsofyourstrongestlager,’ said Mickey.

  The bartender, a man in his fifties, grey at the temples and a hook nose stood dumbstruck. His mouth was open, he wanted to say something, but his nerves were preventing any sound from coming out.

  ‘Isaidgiveusfourpintsofyourstrongestlager…please,’ repeated Mickey.

  ‘Members only,’ said John stepping towards the bar.

  ‘We’rejustlookingforaquietdrinkwithnotrouble,’ said Mickey.

  ‘I’m sorry I only caught the trouble bit of that sentence. We don’t want any trouble and Mike here is willing to call the police,’ said John nodding towards the bartender who seemed to get smaller as all eyes looked towards him.

  ‘Areyatakingthepiss,’ said Flynn pushing himself forward.

  Juanita stepped forward. ‘Gentlemen, please settle down.’

  ‘Wedontwantanytrouble,’ Mickey said again.

  ‘I understand,’ replied Juanita. ‘Mike give these fo
ur gentlemen their order please.’

  All four men nodded their thanks. ‘Are you out of your mind,’ said John.

  ‘Remember what happened to Peter, he couldn’t speak properly for a week last time there was an altercation,’ she reminded him.

  Peter had been returning from the toilet when the four travellers walked in, he slipped out the side door rubbing his neck in remembrance.

  John did remember, he was with Peter when it happened. Juanita had told him he was lucky he hadn’t been throttled. He didn’t fancy being strangled now; it would ruin his weekend. He tossed his hands in the air and turned away.

  ‘Thankyoumrs…?’

  ‘Call me Juanita,’ she said.

  ‘Idon’tliketobedisrespectful,’ he replied.

  ‘I think you have had your fair share of disrespect around here, I insist,’ she smiled. Mickey smiled back. ‘Could I ask you one small favour? Your speech is a little quick for the people around here, if you don’t mind could you speak a little slower so nothing is lost in translation.’

  ‘If it means conversing with a lady like yourself, it would be a pleasure,’ he replied much slower. ‘Although you seem to have a fine ear on you.’

  ‘I’m a schoolteacher, so I am used to all kinds of accents and slang.’

  ‘Is Juanita flirting with that big hairy lump,’ said Eric to John.

  ‘I bloody well hope not, I need my voice for a meeting on Monday,’ replied John.

  ‘I think our boy Mickey is flirting with the mini cougar,’ said Flynn to the others.

  Their laughter was only broken by Peter as he burst through the doors. He looked like he was trying to scream but the noise was just a gargle. He held his throat, his hand stained crimson. He fell to his knees and moved his hand. The front of his throat was missing, and blood pumped across the floor as he fell face first into the carpet. The patrons all stood; a woman screamed, another fainted. Peter died on the floor in front of them. The low hum of the jukebox was silenced, then they all heard the screams from outside. On the TV another newsflash popped onto the screen, nobody took notice.

  The door opened slowly and the first of the dead appeared. A face half eaten stared at them, eyes white and full of malice. Eric passed out next to John. Everyone began to back away, Mickey put Juanita behind him. He took a bottle from the bar and smashed it; the others followed his lead. The dead creature was joined by several others – they attacked, so did Mickey.

  The locals didn’t know what was going on, to be fair neither did Mickey and his boys but they did love a good fight. The monster with half a face lunged at the closest patron, like a lion taking down its prey. Assistance was given by another local until another dead creature pounced on him. Whatever was happening Mickey knew that it would end in death. He raced forward and gave the first dead creature a kick any rugby fly half would be proud of. The creature rolled and looked up at Mickey, its mouth full of another’s flesh. It swallowed and bared its teeth at Mickey, he kicked them down its throat. The locals stood back as Mickey, Declan, Connor and Flynn gave each dead creature what for. It didn’t matter how hard they hit them, they still got back up.

  Declan rammed his broken bottle into the face of a white eyed corpse, it looked at him and lunged, he jumped back. ‘They must be fecking high on drugs,’ he shouted.

  ‘Aye,’ replied Mickey distracted.

  He felt a cold hand touch his arm, then another grip him tightly. He turned to see a woman, her eyes bloodshot and white – beauty replaced by a snarling dead creature hungry for his flesh. She opened her jaw and moved in on his arm.

  He felt the cool air breeze past his face as the cricket bat slammed into the dead woman’s face. Teeth flew from her mouth, her cheekbone cracked, and her nose flattened. She didn’t feel pain, but the force rocked her back releasing her grip. Juanita swung the bat again. The creature stumbled and fell to one knee. Juanita brought the bat down and cracked the dead woman’s skull, she slumped into her real death.

  Mickey looked at the scene. ‘ForfuckssakeJuanita,’ he said.

  ‘Slower,’ she said calmly.

  ‘Aye, thanks.’

  John came into the fray to berate Juanita. ‘Have you lost your mind woman; you have just murdered her.’

  Juanita simply said, ‘Look,’ she was pointing at the newsflash on the big screen TV.

  BREAKING NEWS – THE DEAD HAVE RISEN AND ARE EATING PEOPLE – THIS IS NOT A HOAX – STAY INDOORS – INFECTION IS TRANSMITTED BY A BITE – IF ATTACKED HIT THE DEAD IN THE HEAD, PIERCE THE BRAIN – MORE TO FOLLOW.

  Mickey took hold of a bat and swung with accuracy. Flynn grabbed some steel tipped wickets, he relentlessly punctured eye sockets. Mike the bartender came out with a long double-barrelled shotgun, he was bitten in the neck by Peter who had risen. Poor Connor took both barrels in the chest. Declan smashed in the skull of both Peter and Mike. The dead fell and the living died only to rise and be killed again. When the dead had been pushed back and the doors closed, Mickey, Juanita, Flynn, Declan and a few other took in the destruction inside the club. At least two dozen of the dead still hammered on the doors. Flynn downed his pint in one.

  When Juanita turned towards John, he stood holding a bloody towel against his arm. ‘John, what is it?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s nothing, just a scratch,’ he replied.

  ‘It’s a lot of blood for just a scratch,’ she said.

  Mickey moved towards John, but Juanita halted him. ‘Let me have a look.’

  He backed away, ’It’ll be fine, maybe some stitches required but that’s all.’

  She moved closer and touched his arm. ‘Let me see love,’ she was gentle in touch and tone.

  He allowed her to move the towel, she allowed a tear to slip from her eye. She had been married to John for twenty-five years, cooked his meals, washed his clothes, given him a son and in the moment she saw the bite she knew it was over. The bite was starting to smell, reddened around the edges and a white pus oozing. His skin was turning a mottled green/grey colour, his breathing was laboured - the infection was spreading. She looked into his eyes, their colour fading. John was done for, but she had to stay alive for Adam.

  They had turned up the TV to try and understand what was happening across the country. Juanita took in every sentence, she was focussed.

  ‘John, I have always loved you.’

  ‘I have always loved you; I know I may not have shown or said it too often but I always felt it,’ he said.

  ‘I know,’ she replied. ‘I want you to know that I will take care of Adam,’ if he is still alive, she thought.

  ‘We’ll take care of him together,’ he replied.

  ‘John you have been bitten. The TV reports are saying you will turn into one of those creatures…I don’t want you to go through that.’

  ‘They could be wrong,’ he pleaded.

  ‘I wish they were, but we’ve seen it first-hand here. Peter got up and killed Mike, the others came back after being bitten. I don’t want you doing that to me.’

  ‘I would never hurt you,’ he said.

  ‘I know but it won’t be you when you come back.’

  ‘Are you going to murder me, like you did with that woman? John’s breathing had become more forced. His face was losing its normal flushed colour. His eyes had lost their shine, a whiteness had begun to take over.

  ‘I’m not, Mickey will do it and it’s not murder – I’m saving you.’ She blew him a kiss and turned. Her tearful eyes met Mickey’s and she gave a nod.

  Mickey moved forwards, ‘For god’s sake no,’ screamed John.

  ‘Ihopeyourgodiswaiting,’ said Mickey as he slammed the bat into John’s temple. The first blow was hard enough to stun. John fell onto all fours, he looked up as the bat came down. Juanita clasped her hands over her ears as wood met bone. Two blows of significant force later and John lay motionless on the floor. Mickey took a coat and covered the body.

  Eric staggered to his feet having only just woken from his earlier black out -
when he witnessed John’s skull being bashed in, he hit the deck again.

  *

  Eric returned to the land of the living that was besieged by the dead when a bucket of cold water hit him with force in the face. He wriggled about for a few seconds like a fish just plucked from the sea. Flynn reached down and pulled him up. There were eight of them in total. Rita and Bob were huddled in the corner while Sandra tapped frantically at her mobile phone. Juanita had tried ringing Adam, but she only got a busy line.

  ‘We need to get out of here,’ said Mickey remembering to speak slower.

  ‘Aye but how are we going to manage that?’ said Declan mirroring Mickey.

  ‘There’s too many of those fuckers outside to force our way through,’ said Flynn peering through a window.

  ‘Mike’s car,’ said Juanita.

  ‘Where is it?’ asked Mickey.

  She pointed past the horde of dead congregating outside. ‘If we could get to that we could make a break for it.’

  ‘It’s only a small car,’ said Eric.

  ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ said Bob. ‘And neither is Rita, you must be mad going out there.’

  ‘We can’t just sit here,’ said Juanita.

  ‘I’m with Bob,’ said Sandra. ‘What do you think you’re going to find out there – only more of those fucking dead things wanting to eat us? I’m staying too.’

  ‘What about your kids?’ asked Juanita.

  ‘What about them?’ she hissed back.

  Sandra was considered the blemish on the community. She had turned to drink when her husband had left her with three kids. She was spoken about in all circles, most of the time behind her back. Juanita didn’t care to continue the conversation; her concern was Adam.

  ‘Can you drive?’ Mickey asked Eric.

  ‘No I can’t,’ he replied.

  ‘Then you’re fucked,’ said Mickey. ‘The three of us and Juanita are going in the car, you lot are on your own. Do you have issues with that?’ he asked Juanita.

  ‘I don’t and I’m sorry Eric.’

  ‘We have known each other for years,’ he pleaded. ‘We don’t even like this lot.’