by L A Taylor
Craig and Doug remained playing with the small, dotted bricks. The winner of each game chose a selection of food from the stash.
The first bunch of monsters gradually closed in on the village. The occupiers of this area were going to be in for one hell of a shock.
One of the latest walking corpses used to be a fifteen-year-old boy by the name of Thomas Griffin. He’d passed away a few weeks ago from a rare disease. The other monsters were aged between twenty-five and ninety. The old one moved at a much slower pace than the younger versions and staggered from side to side. The reason was obvious. Walking had been a major problem before this person died, but it gave it a go, even though it obviously struggled.
The non-uniformed men became restless inside Mike’s office, especially Chris. He loved the thrill of an adventure and just wanted to get out there, do anything. Mike noticed the other man’s reaction, and for a split second imagined Chris as being Jason. Both men had the same likeness in their attitudes to life. Mike could so easily of told them all to back off and go home, but the town only had a handful of officers. Some were already dead, so the more help offered to him the better. A pleasant approach at persuading everyone he wanted them to stay for a reason was enough to convince the reporter to calm down again. Mike would rather gamble on letting these untrained people help than admit defeat, calling the commissioner for backup. Keeping this town contained from any outside interference was the only choice he had. It was too dangerous to allow more people from the city to risk being infected.
Another half an hour drifted by as Craig now talked to the chief again. “All right chief. I’ve not noticed anything different, over.”
Mike was getting a bit annoyed with the ‘over’ bit.
“Craig, you can leave out the ‘over’ bit, all I want from you is information.”
Doug was seen cracking a tiny laugh, so Craig threw a domino at his head. “Sorry boss, I was trying to be professional,” he replied. A bright red complexion was now stamped on his cheeks.
Mike couldn’t be asked to respond to that, but did have an excellent question up his sleeve to take the piss out of the other man. “Okay, have you got your torch with you?”
Doug and Craig were slightly lost by that sentence.
“Torch, why boss?”
“Because you’ll need it when it gets dark that’s why.”
The officers in the car weren’t expecting this to happen. They thought they would go to the graveyard, crack open some sandwiches and have a laugh until their shift was over. How wrong they were to assume this.
“We don’t have to stay here when it gets dark, do we?”
“Why? Are you scared?”
All four men in Mike’s office laughed again and the inhabitants of the car overheard it.
“Hey, this isn’t funny, man. Our shift will be over soon.”
“I didn’t say it was funny, Craig. I can’t let you two go home on time today, mate. I’m sorry. I’m going to need that area patrolled just in case something happens. You can understand that. We’re short staffed and we all need to stick together.”
Craig took in everything the chief said and now felt bad for wanting to leave. “Sorry boss. We’ll stay as long as we have to. Both of us have got torches.” There was a two-second interval before Craig finished his speech. “I’ll be in touch in another thirty minutes.”
No more ‘over’ at the end of that sentence.
“Nice one. I’ll speak to you soon. I just want you both to know that I’m very proud of you for doing this.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
The rotting flesh and maggot-infested monsters approached the holiday village. Apart from a few kids playing outside and an elderly lady situated nearby, the area seemed pretty much nonexistent of activity. The bloodthirsty, flesh-biting zombies spotted the unfortunate woman and moved in her direction. Even the old corpse, with infected drool leaking from its mouth, desperately tried staggering that little bit faster to get its hands on some tasty, human meat, but it fell down from going too quick, and like a drunken bum in a pissed up alleyway, eventually found itself upright again to carry on its quest.
The woman didn’t spot the unwelcome visitors, but stopped and sniffed the air for a few seconds. The zombie stench floated around her face and moved up her nostrils until she coughed from the lack of breathing properly, but once used to the stench, carried on with her work. She thought the drainage system was blocked up again and that notion wasn’t going to put her off. The smell increased in toxic texture and the old lady now tasted the strangling odour of rotting meat. It almost blocked up her windpipe, threatening to knock her out with its foul, suffocating tentacles, but, like a stubborn mule, she held her nose with one hand and pulled down the washing with the other.
This lady must’ve been slightly blind or extremely deaf because not once did she turn around to witness what made the haunting sounds closing in on her. It wasn’t until one of the zombies passed and stood in front of her that she became worried, but before she could scream, another one gripped the back of her hair and sank darkened teeth into the side of her face. This snapping sensation completely tore off the left ear. The zombie stood with the ear plus the earring in its mouth, chewing on the prize catch. Crunching sounds were heard as the earring was scrunched between teeth.
Another one of the grotesque figures took a clump of flesh out of the petrified woman’s right arm. The extreme blood flow was enough to make these cannibals act more and more crazy. The pure shock of this horrific attack caused her to faint, leaving the walking dead an easy access to the first meal of their new lives. Red liquid was splashed over the washing as the hungry cannibals feasted.
The children, who’d played during the massacred attack on the defenceless woman, weren’t playing anymore. They’d witnessed the brutal onslaught, but were too frozen with shivering fear to speak.
One of the zombies sniffed the head of the victim and moved away. The children watched as the creature walked toward a gardening rake lying on the ground, then, with twisted fingers, picked it up. It seemed to remember what the object was used for. It tried raking the grass for a few seconds before stopping and looking puzzled. The other zombies looked over, admiring the one with the wooden handled rake. They produced smiles. It was a very weird moment, but it wasn’t as weird as when they were still at the cemetery.
The beast returned with the object. It sat next to the victim’s scalp while the others carried on feeding. It then stroked the dead person’s hair before whining like a dog. Now, the menacing, piercing eyes were back, and the gentle touch faded. The sharp points of the rake aimed at the dead woman’s skull, and, with one quick, heavy blow, the object embedded into it. The creature watched in excitement, then tugged on the handle until the top half of the head came clean off. A large smile and a sparkle from its frosted grey eyes indicated that the monster was happy with the witnessed prize. While all the others ripped away at the torso, legs, arms and stomach, this clever zombie found the brain. It lashed out, stealing the organ away from its home before pleasingly sinking teeth into the blood-soaked tissue.
It took a few more seconds before the children broke away from their hypnotised state of mind. As soon as one stopped the horrified staring, the rest followed, and the village now echoed with the sound of scared kids. Their cries for help raced wavelengths of pure terror through every caravan.
The residents evacuated their mobile homes to witness the chaos taking over the caravan site. Frantic parents now rushed around in pursuit to round up their little ones.
All the commotion stirred the un-dead six, and their deadly vision spotted the scurrying humans. The feasting was over on victim number one. The freaks returned to their feet to attempt another attack on the living. The humans gathered up their children, locking themselves inside the mobile homes as the creatures closed in.
Each family was accounted for, except for one. The Carters had misplaced their little boy. He hid in his secret spot. The gruesome sight made him too
afraid to come out. Little Kenny was a shy, seven year old, so all this activity was sure to send him into his own little world. His parents shouted to gain his attention, but also aimed the words at the other neighbours. They weren’t impressed by the cowardly behaviour of their so-called friends and Tom Carter was furious by their reaction. “Can’t you lot see that our son’s gone missing?” After a quick rotation, so all the hiding people knew he was talking to them, he spoke again. “As long as your kids are safe you don’t give a fuck about mine.”
The zombies closed in even more on the married, troubled couple. If they were going to survive an attack then they would have to remove themselves from where they stood.
Suddenly, doors opened all around them. A few of the fathers plucked up enough courage to attack the bloodthirsty enemy. Armed with kitchen knives, gardening tools, and anything that could be used as a weapon, the occupiers left their homes to try and scare off the trespassers. Tom grabbed hold of his wife and told her to get inside their caravan. He was going to find their boy, but needed her to get to a safer place first. Diane Carter shook like a leaf, but managed to run back to her home as the bloodstained intruders watched.
Tom and his three compatriots stood side by side. It looked a bit like a scene from ‘West Side Story’. The humans were the jets and the ugly fucks, the sharks. All that was needed was for them to do a stupid dance routine and it would’ve been spot on. The zombies stood close by, but didn’t attack. Surely they weren’t hatching a plan? Tom turned, looking at the other men. “I’m sorry for shouting at you but I thought you were going to leave me out here to face those things on my own.” He stared at the enemy for a second. “What the fuck are those things?”
Normally, the sight of witnessing such a horrible and cruel event would make these men cringe in their shoes. They weren’t expecting a visit from the devil’s warriors, but at this moment all they saw were intruders who’d scared their children.
“I don’t know what they are mate, and I don’t care. I just want them off our patch,” Curtis replied.
The apology came now and Curtis spoke on behalf of the others. He admitted to being scared. He panicked and his top priority was to save his family. He hadn’t been thinking about anyone else. Tom nodded his approval and probably would’ve done the same if he was in their shoes. Curtis offered him a baseball bat and the men braced themselves. They knew that whoever or whatever those things were, they weren’t going away without a battle.
“Right men, let’s show them who the boss is around here,” Tom shouted.
The four humans ran at the monsters, swinging whatever weapons they had in their hands at the freaks. Tom’s bat crashed against the side of one, sending the zombie sprawling across the grass. Curtis managed to deposit a large carving knife into the chest of another. This reaction knocked the beast to its knees. The other men used golf clubs and gardening spades to smack the shit out of the enemy. This all appeared too easy to achieve as all six zombies were sent crashing to the ground. The men laughed, walking away as their wives waved and cheered through the caravan windows.
Tom’s little army stood there as the monsters brushed the recent attack to one side and returned to their feet. Each male witnessed an astonishing sight and couldn’t believe that the one with the knife stuck deep into its body frame acted like nothing happened. These humans hadn’t realized that the things in front of them were zombies. Tom thought they were a hillbilly, inbred, mutant family, but even mutant people would be close to, or even dead after a knife attack.
The pissed-off men charged again, but this time it wasn’t as easy as the first. One of the guys made a big mistake of grabbing a zombie and placing it in a headlock.
“Hey, look at me.” He moved the snarling creature in a circle and laughed. “Would anybody like a free punch?”
He wasn’t the only one who thought this was hilarious. The other men also giggled, but the laughing didn’t persist for very long. The creature saw the chance to strike and clamped its jaws into the man’s ribs. “OOOOOOOUCH.”
The zombie was thrown to the ground as the scream pierced through the eardrums of every person standing there. Nobody could understand why the other person laughed one minute and the next was in a fit of pain, but after a few more seconds they realized what was wrong. Now all eyes were focused on the drip, dripping of blood leaking from the ribcage area.
While the humans remained gob-smacked at the sight of the injured man, the beasts planned their own attack. Another man was set upon by the pillaging evilness that was about to bite him. Tom and Curtis could only watch in horror as their friend was brutally attacked by one of the monsters. If they thought the screams from a few moments before were bad, these sounds whistled a circle of frightened squeals that sounded ten times worse. This man had no chance to fight back, as teeth were deposited deep into his left eye socket. Once retreated, the eye popped out, snapping veins and connective tissues without any fuss. Blood now gushed down the terrified, screaming man’s face.
The zombie on the ground seemed way too interested in licking up the excess blood forming a circle next to it to bother in the battle between life and death. The bitten first victim staggered. He tried stemming the release of red juice, but it now became a delicious drink for the lazy zombie who’d found the ideal resting place.
The man with the eye wound stood no chance without the help of his friends, but the two, untouched men were still trying to unscramble this terrifying experience to even think about a rescue attempt. The one-eyed man did the wrong thing and fell to the ground. He was now an easy target for the enemy. Once down, the beasts were on him like hungry wolves ready for another feeding frenzy.
The other wounded man produced bludgeoning cries in an attempt to be noticed by the uninjured duo. It worked. Curtis regrouped his thoughts, rushing over to support the stumbling male before escorting him to one of the empty caravans. The bloodlapping monster watched the two men escape. It then opened its mouth, letting out a loud screeching noise just like the movie ‘Invasion of the body snatchers’.
It was now Tom’s turn to head for safer surroundings. He knew Kenny was safe, well as safe as he could be.
He’s not a stupid boy and will be out of range by now. He’ll come home when all the trouble was over, he thought.
He ran toward the same caravan as his mates, but as he past the screeching zombie, it swung an arm at him. Tom was quick enough to avoid this and kicked out at the fiend, landing a superb head shot.
Everyone who was locked inside mobile homes was now pressed up against the windows, staring at the living corpses. Their thoughts were on the subject of ‘who and what were these people?’
The blood lapping zombie headed for the dead man, feeding on the scraps, as the other five killers returned to their feet.
TWENTY-EIGHT
The latest members of the un-dead had now escaped from their resting places while the on-duty officers slept. One of them was supposed to have kept watch, but couldn’t remain awake once the other one had dropped off to sleep.
Ten minutes drifted by before Craig woke to the sound of strange, faint moaning stabbing at his eardrums. He took a quick look through the window but couldn’t see anything unusual outside the vehicle or around the cemetery. His first thought was that he had a strange dream. That idea was washed away as quickly as it entered his mind, as the eerie sounds penetrated his ears again. He turned, looking over at his partner. Doug was snoring, and was so far into a deep sleep that it would’ve taken more than this for him to wake up. Craig listened closely to the nasal splutters, but after a few seconds realized that it wasn’t his partner causing the awful droning.
He opened the door, left the vehicle and walked over to the metal railings, viewing the graveyard, but couldn’t see any signs of a disturbance.
Why am I here? There’s nothing out here , he thought.
He heard the shuffling of feet upon turning around, but again he couldn’t see anyone or anything nearby. This freaked him
out, so he decided to follow the metal fence to ensure all was well. He walked along, scanning the area every time he heard the slightest noise, but didn’t enter the cemetery grounds. He remained in thought for the next few minutes, trying in vain to work out what all the sounds were and meant.
Think time was over and so he headed back to the police car. There’s nothing to see here and I want to get warm again.
Whilst walking back along the railings, Craig sensed that everything wasn’t as perfect as first thought. Something bugged him, as the noises increased.
If these sounds belonged to the death squad then why wasn’t I being attacked?
He noticed two figures in the front seats upon nearing the vehicle again. Doug looked still fast asleep, as the other human-like shape clambered along the driver’s seat. This stranger was crouched over, so all Craig saw was a pair of legs appearing out of the vehicle. These newly transformed beings were extremely organised and had used the echoing voices to sway Craig’s attention away from the easier target. The plan worked.
Craig was about thirty feet away before he clicked on to what was happening. He saw that the bottom half of the strange person was extremely muddy, and its trousers were shredded. The thunderous noises screeched around him again and he now knew he was in deep trouble. He reached for his gun. A head lifted. He watched it very closely, his anxious stare fast turning into a disgusted one. This zombie had been feeding on Doug’s abdomen and had no intentions of sitting upright until full. Craig now felt guilty for the attack on his friend. The open door was like a welcome mat for this freak.