Hell Hath No Fury...

by Elsa Carruthers

  Her dad barred her path. “No you’re not,” he said. “You stay in here with me and wait until the cops come and sort it all out!”

  Sam could hear sirens. She looked at her dad. “I’m just going to look out the back,” she said. “I won’t go outside, I promise.”

  Her dad hesitated. “I’m coming with you then,” he said, brandishing the knife.

  Sam nodded, opened the kitchen door, and walked through the lounge holding the torch low. Something was thumping on the back door, a steady knock, knock, knock.

  She exchanged a look with her dad, who shook his head. She smiled a little. “I’m not going to open it.” Instead, she went to the window and peeled back the curtain. A zombie stared back at her, its face drawn and haggard, and she jumped and cursed, drawing the curtain quickly closed again.

  “Jesus Christ,” her father said. “It’s trying to get in!”

  “I don’t think it is,” Sam said, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. “It’s just...standing there. I don’t th—”

  The window smashed. The shape of a fist showed through the curtain, before it clutched at the fabric and ripped it back through the broken window.

  Sam’s father was yelling. Sam herself was just staring open-mouthed. And then she screamed as another window smashed. The next thing she was aware of was her dad pulling her back and into the corridor, slamming the lounge door shut. They retreated to the kitchen, both pressing their backs to the door.

  Sam looked over at her dad, her heart pounding. “We need to go out the front before they get in,” she said, moving away from the door. “We can climb out the window.”

  Her dad had his eyes screwed shut. “You go,” he said.

  Sam shook her head. “You come with me,” she said. “I’m not going out there on my own!”

  “Go, Sam!”

  “No! Come wi—” She gasped at the bang on the kitchen door. Her father opened his eyes and looked at her and she backed away towards the window.

  “Go,” he said again.

  “You have to come with me,” Sam said. “No way am I leaving you here!” As she spoke, she picked up a dining table chair and threw it through the kitchen window. The sounds of shouting and sirens from outside grew louder. “Dad!”

  Another bang shook the kitchen door. “Shit, Sam, just go! I’ll follow!”

  Sam looked at her dad, looked at the kitchen door. She went to the window and clambered out of it, turning back to look inside. “Come on!” she called. “Dad!”

  He ran from the door and it burst open behind him. Three zombies staggered into the kitchen. Sam reached out a hand for her dad and half pulled him through the window.

  They ran out into the street together. A motorbike roared past, the driver and passenger both whooping like crazy people. Sam threw her arms around her dad, feeling how much he was shaking as she hugged him.

  “Bloody zombies,” she muttered. “Bloody bastard zombies!”

  ***

  Frank heard the smash as a window was broken downstairs. At first he thought it was looters, but then, leaning out of the upstairs window, he saw the zombie clambering into his house.

  He reloaded his gun with his last set of bullets and headed determinedly down the stairs. The zombie was standing at the bottom and he shot it in the head, watching as it dropped like a stone. He climbed over it, grabbed his car keys, opened the door and walked outside.

  Frank got into his car. He felt quite calm, almost detached, even though zombies filled his rearview mirror and he could hear people screaming.

  He drove down the street. The temptation to take pot shots at the undead as he passed by was huge, but he knew it was best to conserve the bullets.

  He knew of a scientist in the town, a man he’d spoken to about zombies before, a man who he thought was an idiot in all honesty, but he didn’t know who else to turn to.

  The house he stopped outside of was a four-bedroom detached house with a separate garage and workshop. A garden laid to lawn and a path and driveway were at the front of the house. Frank had no idea what was at the back, but as far as he was concerned, it was far too much space for one man anyway.

  The area was free of any zombies, though they roamed the park just across the street. He pulled up on the driveway, switched the engine off and got out of the car, looking over his shoulder as he walked to the door.

  He rang the doorbell and knocked on the door. When nobody answered, he peered through the letterbox. “Atkins?” he called.

  He wandered down the path, turned and looked up at the windows on the top floor. There were no lights on. “Jeff?” he called again.

  A zombie was ambling across the road towards the house, its arms outstretched. This one had been female once, with red hair and dull green eyes. Her dress was ripped and hanging from her body. Her lower jaw was missing.

  Frank looked at it with pity. He raised his gun, closed an eye, and shot it twice. As the zombie fell, more suddenly seemed to realise that there was a living body around and they turned and started towards Frank. He shot another one, backing towards his car.

  There were coming faster now, much faster than he’d ever seen zombies move. He cursed as his back came up against the car and he turned and fumbled with his car keys.

  He felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned and lashed out.

  “Ow!”

  It was Jeff Atkins. “Jesus, Frank!”

  Frank frowned. “Don’t go doing that to people when there’s zombies around,” he growled. “I thought you were one of them.”

  He looked at them as they crossed the street. Jeff followed his gaze. “Come inside,” the scientist said. “I think I know what’s going on. Quickly!”

  Frank nodded. He raised his gun at the zombies, then thought better of it, and hurried into the house behind Jeff.

  ***

  Sam screamed and stabbed the zombie in the eye, crying out in disgust when she pulled the knife back with the eyeball attached to it. Her father stabbed the creature in the neck but it didn’t stop.

  The zombie, male once, gnashed its teeth at Sam. It stared wild-eyed at her and grabbed desperately at her body. She kicked it in the balls, but it didn’t react, so she stabbed it again, this time between the eyes, and it went down.

  She looked at her dad. He was battling another of the undead, elbowing the thing in the face. Sam yelled out angrily and launched herself at the zombie, knocking it to the ground before plunging the knife into its head. She stabbed down again, just to be sure it was dead. Or at least no longer the walking dead.

  “Sam, we need to get away from here, there’s loads of them!” her dad cried, he was blood-spattered and sweaty.

  Sam looked at him, and then past him when she heard the scream. A group of zombies had stopped the motorbike and were pulling the men from it. The passenger flailed with his cricket bat, the driver had his throat ripped from him as Sam watched.

  She looked away. “Yeah,” she agreed. “But how?”

  “I don’t know... Shit. Knock on doors, see if we can get a car.”

  “Run,” Sam said, watching as the zombies finished feasting on the motorbike driver. “Dad! Run!”

  She grabbed his hand and together they ran down the street.

  ***

  “Say that again?” Frank asked.

  He stood behind Jeff. The scientist sat at his computer desk, bringing up things on the monitor that meant little to Frank.

  “The beacon keeps them up on Snowcombe,” Jeff said. “They’re attracted to the pheromones. We put it in place about five years ago to stop this sort of thing happening. We’ve been checking on it regularly but...God, I don’t know. It must have stopped working. Or it’s gone.”

  “Gone? Someone stole it?”

  “I don’t know! Who would be stupid enough to steal something which attracts zombies?!”

  Frank banged a fist on the desk. “Bloody hell,” he said. “So you make another one, and we’ll take the damn thing back to Snowy.”


  “I don’t know how long it would take me to make another one,” Jeff said. “If I can make another one. And even then, would it work?! For all I know, the zombies are just immune to it now!”

  “Try,” Frank said. He went to the window and looked down to the street below. The zombies were fighting over the ones he’d shot. “And try fast.”

  “Try fast,” Jeff repeated, shaking his head. “Because science is so easy.”

  “Just do it,” Frank said, starting to get annoyed with the man already. “Whatever you need, I’ll get for you, just tell me what you want.”

  Jeff sighed and got to his feet. “Just...help me in the lab. Don’t touch anything unless I tell you to touch it.”

  “Fine,” Frank growled. “Get on with it.”

  ***

  Zombies tried to grab at them as they ran, but Sam and her father outpaced them. Once, they passed two of the undead ripping a woman apart, she was still screaming as they tore into her stomach.

  Sam’s dad stopped and took a step towards them to help, before Sam dragged him away, telling him that there was nothing they could do for her. That it was too late.

  She pulled him onwards and they ran together until she stopped, out of breath. Her father, a keen cyclist and much fitter than her, made to pick her up. “I’ll carry you,” he said.

  But she shook her head. “I’ll slow you down.”

  “Sam—”

  “Wait.” She pointed up ahead to a crossroad. A stream of zombies were heading down the street, all walking in the same direction. A shuffling sound filled the air as they dragged their feet, or legs, or in one case, a whole body, across the ground. The smell of death and decay wafted towards Sam and she gagged.

  “What the hell are they doing?” her dad asked.

  “I don’t know,” she replied, covering her mouth and nose with her sleeve. She watched the zombies, knowing that she should head in the opposite direction, but...

  “We should follow them,” she said.

  “Sam...”

  “We have to.”

  She looked at her dad. He met her gaze and sighed. “You’re going to follow them whether I’m with you or not, aren’t you? Too bloody stubborn for your own good.”

  She smiled. “Look, they seem pretty occupied. I think we’ll be safe. We’ll just follow at a distance.”

  The last zombie heading down the street only had one arm and no legs at all. It dragged itself mindlessly along the ground, its progress painfully slow. Sam had half a mind to go and put it out of its misery, but she didn’t want to draw any attention to her dad or herself.

  She looked at her father and then followed behind the zombies.

  ***

  Jeff Atkins had converted his attic into a laboratory, and Frank stood there now with a frown on his face, looking suspiciously at the various phials and tubes and apparatus throughout the room. He wondered how much of it was legal, then, when he heard the zombies knocking on the downstairs window, he decided that he didn’t care.

  He scratched his head and watched as Jeff made calculations in a notebook. “Is all that necessary?” he asked. “Can’t you just start doing something?”

  “I can’t just throw things together and hope something works, Frank, I need to do this properly,” Jeff replied.

  “Well hurry up,” Frank growled. He went to the window and looked down at the street below. A single zombie was heading down the drive and away from the house. Across the road, the zombies in the park were starting to turn away.

  “Odd,” Frank said. “Hey, Atkins, come and look at this.”

  “Bit busy right now...”

  “Just come and look, will you?!”

  The scientist joined him and together they looked out of the attic window. “Something’s drawing them away,” Jeff said. “And I bet you that it’s the beacon. If we follow them, they’ll lead us right to it!”

  Frank smiled grimly. “Then let’s follow them.”

  Once outside, Frank got into his car, checking the back seat for zombies even though he’d locked the door. Jeff got into the passenger side and put on his seatbelt. Frank gave him a look. “I don’t think we’re going to be entering into a high speed chase here.”

  “I’m sitting next to a cop,” Jeff replied. “Forgive me for putting my seatbelt on.”

  Frank reversed the car off the drive and drove after the zombies, making sure to keep his distance in case they decided to turn back.

  They passed houses with broken doors and windows; they passed bodies in the street. At one point, Frank, with his window down, could hear a woman sobbing somewhere and he almost stopped until Jeff quietly convinced him to carry on. He shook his head, a frown on his face. He—

  A person crashing into the side of his bonnet made him curse loudly and slam the brakes on. A young woman smacked her hand against his car, then banged urgently on his window. “Let us in!” she cried.

  Frank stared at her. “It’s you,” he said, winding his window back down. “The girl from Snowcombe.”

  “It’s Sam. Just let us in!” she said again.

  Frank looked past her to a man standing behind. He nodded and jerked a thumb towards the back seat. “It’s unlocked,” he said. “What the hell are you two doing?”

  “Following the zombies,” Sam said, getting into the back of the car and then shifting over as the man joined her. “What about you? Shouldn’t you be shooting them?”

  “I’m almost out of bullets,” Frank said. He looked in the rearview mirror at the man, noticing the similarities between him and the woman. He must be the girl’s father, Frank thought. The real one, not the other one. Unless they were both...no, two men couldn’t father one girl, could they?!

  Frank shook his head at himself. Why the hell did he care? He put the car into gear and followed the zombies again.

  ***

  Sam looked out of the window as they drove through the town centre. People were smashing shop windows and looting, though some stopped when the zombies passed by. Others fled, and some...some were grabbed by the river of the undead and torn apart and devoured.

  Sam screwed her eyes shut and felt a tear slide down her cheek. Her father took her hand and gave it a squeeze and she opened her eyes and gave him a grateful smile.

  “Here,” Frank said. “They’re turning off.”

  She looked and saw the zombies filtering down one of the side streets. A street too small for the car to go down. “We’ll have to get out,” she said.

  “Uh, not me,” said the man in the passenger seat. “No way. I’ll wait here if it’s all the sa—”

  “Don’t be such a bloody coward, Atkins,” Frank said impatiently. “We need you to get the beacon. I’ve no idea what I’m looking for.”

  “Beacon?” Sam repeated. “What beacon?”

  “It’s what attracts the zombies apparently,” Frank said. “Scientists thought it would be a good idea to stick it up on Snowcombe to keep the zombies up there.”

  “Well it worked, didn’t it?” Atkins grumbled.

  Sam glanced at her dad, he looked pale and sick. “Dad, why don’t you take over driving from Frank? We’ll follow the zombies on foot and you can go around and get us if we need you, yeah?”

  “You should stay with me,” he said. “Let the cop do his job, we don’t have to do anything.”

  Sam hesitated. Then she shook her head. “I have to help out now, I can’t just sit here and do nothing.” She leaned across the seat and kissed her dad on the cheek. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Right,” Frank said. “Everybody out!”

  They all got out of the car; Sam’s father swapped with Frank and got behind the wheel. She gave him what she hoped looked like a confident smile as he closed the door and looked forlornly out at her.

  She put a hand to the knife she had tucked through her belt and mouthed, “I’ll be okay.”

  Then she turned and followed after Frank and the scientist, heading down the street after the undead.

  ***


  Frank pressed his back against the wall, held his gun firmly, and peered around the corner. The zombies had stopped and gathered in the carpark of the town’s largest supermarket. The street lights in the carpark flickered on and off and there was a horrible shuffling of feet as the zombies shifted about as if they were waiting for something.

  Or someone.

  “Hear me, my pets! I’m here now, here to lead you home. You have been trapped for far too long on that hill, but now you’ve fed well on the people who tried to cage you...”

  Frank followed the voice and twisted his neck to look up on top of the supermarket where a man dressed in a brown robe waved his arms in the air and addressed the zombies.

  “Lunatic,” he said.

  “It’s a bokor,” Jeff said. He sounded surprised.

  Frank looked at him. “Come again?”

  “A bokor. A uh...a voodoo priest. Someone who can command the undead.”

  “What the hell is he doing on top of the damned supermarket?!” Frank hissed.

  “I’d be up there, too,” Sam said. “Wouldn’t you be? I don’t reckon zombies can climb.”

  Frank had to admit the girl had a point. He peered around the building at the zombies again, they were moaning low in their throats and staring up at the man on the roof.

  “Does he have the beacon?” Sam asked.

  Frank looked up. He couldn’t see anything in the man’s hand or on the roof with him.

  “He does not need the beacon,” Jeff explained. “Basically, he is a beacon.”