Dead Winter: A gripping crime thriller full of suspense

by Jack Parker

  The irony in this moment was priceless.

  Fumbling around in my bag for a few seconds, I pulled out the lighter that I had taken from my apartment. I passed it quietly to Dave, who flicked it open and proceeded to light his cigarette before passing it back to me. I lit my own, inhaling the smoke before coughing slightly. I looked at the sky again, the smoke hanging in delicate spirals.

  Chapter Five

  Second Day (22nd December – 4:45AM)

  A sense of determination had filled me now. Determination to survive at all costs. I know already that I would rather die myself than to be turned into one of 'them'. Yes, THEM. That's what I called them now, zombie wasn't the right word for such a thing.

  That word seemed wrong.

  Any person with a pathetic sense of morality would blatantly refuse to kill them. I, on the other hand saw no issue with ending their misery now. They weren't human in my eyes, just shells with no sense of who or what they used to be. Morality didn't exist any more, it was killed or be killed in this world. There were no rules in this society, this dead, frozen hell.

  Better them than me, right?

  These were the thoughts that dwelt within my mind as I stared at the star-strewn sky. A momentary sense of tranquillity in a world of hostility; a needle in the haystack.

  We stood there, as vulnerable as we were the day that we were born. The steel pipe and knife that we had used to defend ourselves had been taken from out possession the moment that we'd stepped into the police encampment, the futile screams of humanity continued.

  The time hit three.

  Casually strolling down the trash-littered alleyways, we kept a constant eye out for any signs of life, or lack of it. My eyes scanned the far from empty street, taking in every minuscule detail.

  A white van law on its side across the road, missing one of its back wheels. The underside lay exposed for all to see. An arm stuck out from underneath the van, its fist clenched as though the person had tried to stop the van before it hit them, a messy fate.

  A wooden baseball bat lay unattended on the floor beside the vehicle, Dave slowly walked over to it and grasped it firmly in his hands. Not a very reliable weapon, but it would have to do for the time being.

  "Not bad. This place is a mess." Dave uttered, turning the bat over in his hands. As he did, I rummaged around in my bag until my hand found the little butterfly knife I had been keeping there.

  "I guess I'll have to use this." I said, flicking the knife open with a single fluid hand motion.

  "Niiice, where'd you get that?" Dave exclaimed in surprise as I pulled out the butterfly knife.

  "Honestly? I don't remember, I've had it for a couple years now." I replied, playing with the knife in my hand.

  That's when I noticed it.

  A HGV truck lay on its side across the end of the road, completely blocking the way ahead. Dave's face fell suddenly as though he had fallen into a pit of despair. I then noticed that the second floor window of an office building next to the truck was open and a plank of wood had been placed from the window ledge onto the truck. I nudged Dave and pointed this feature out to him.

  "We should be able to get over this thing, just gotta get onto the second floor of that place there." I whispered to him, trying to keep the tone of my voice down to avoid attracting any unwanted attention.

  "Yeah, I get it. We just gotta keep the noise down." Dave replied, with a disgruntled tone of voice. He'd come to the same conclusion that I had; the infected were attracted by excessive amounts of noise. He followed up with a quick remark. "Hey, look. If I get infected, put me out of my misery while I'm still me, understood?"

  A grim thought, I immediately dismissed any possibility that it may occur. Nodding silently, I thought again about my belief that I would rather be killed than to become one of the infected. But I wasn't sure if I had it in me to kill someone who wasn't infected.

  Was I capable of such a thing?

  We approached the steel-frame double doors that gave entrance to the abandoned office building. My hand stretched out to try the blood-stained handle.

  Locked.

  Upon further inspection, I noticed a hole in the glass, where someone had clearly punched through it. Carefully sliding my hind through the jagged hole, I fumbled with the latch on the other side; a satisfying click was heard as I slowly swung the doors open. A sickly stench filled my nostrils.

  Death.

  "Damn it, they're here.." I muttered to myself, raising my knife slightly as a loud groan echoed through the corridor. The sight of blood-stained flesh, dirty clothes and burnt shoes came into view as an infected staggered into the room, exhaling loudly.

  Upon noticing the two of us, it dashed forwards. I swiftly kicked it back and walked forwards, pushing it against the wall. I raised my arm and swung it at the man's head. A dull thud could be heard as the knife in my hand planted deep inside the man's skull. He staggered for a second or two before crashing to the ground into a crumpled heap.

  I slowly walked towards the man, giving it a brief tap with my foot to ensure that it was indeed dead before I leant down and yanked the knife out of its head.

  "Nice.." Dave grimaced, looking away from the bloody mess as he clenched the handle of the baseball bat a little tighter.

  Treading carefully over the heap of cloth and flesh, we headed into a narrow corridor; the interior paintwork was peeling and a wooden staircase leading to the second floor was visible.

  There was just one thing blocking the way; two more infected. A middle-aged woman wearing a pink, blood-stained skirt was hammering her fists against the wall, which was slippery with thick red blood. She let out cries of what seemed like pain as she coughed. Could she possibly be aware of what she had become?

  I flipped the knife over in my hand, waiting for an opportune moment. I approached the woman, dragging my arm through the air until the blade hit skin. A cut opened, spraying blood through the air in a fine mist. Spinning around to avoid the spray, I planted the knife into the back of her head.

  Wrong move.

  The other infected turned its head around and began to dash at me. Closing my eyes, my fears rose. I expected to feel pain at any second; but heard naught by the sound of something whistling through the air. A crunch, the sound of something heavy hitting the floor.

  I opened my eyes just in time to witness Dave standing over the twitching figure that lay on the ground. Letting out a deep breath, he proceeded to relentlessly swing the bat at the head of the infected until it was caved in. Dave slowly walked backwards, bat still raised.

  Was this Office Space?

  Silence hung in the air for a few moments before the sound of heavy breathing filled my ears. Walking past Dave, I heard his footsteps as he followed me.

  Approaching the staircase, an eerie sound filled my ears and made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. Dull scraping sounds could be heard from the top of the stairs, from which a trickle of blood; almost like a minute waterfall, dripped from stair to stair. With a series of thuds, the infected fell down the staircase and moved slowly towards us.

  It was missing half of its leg and the other lay twisted and contorted. The stench of burnt flesh made my nostrils flare as the thing crawled across the ground towards us. How this thing wasn't dead already was beyond my comprehension.

  Picking up a plank of wood from the floor, I closed my eyes and swung down towards it until I could hear its shouts no more. The force of the impact sent shivers down my arm.

  After climbing the staircase and walking into the office room, I noticed a leather jacket hung over the back of a chair. I walked over to it, swinging it through the air. Sliding my arms in, I examined myself in a mirror. It was a bit big, but would do nicely as a protective shield against the harsh cold for now.

  "Heh.. that actually suits you, kid." Dave remarked as I turned around to face him. This whole time, I'd only been wearing a T-shirt and a thin hoodie, I felt warmer already.

  The room was devoid of li
fe as we slowly walked through it, looking from side to side. We made our way over to the window where the truck lay outside. Stepping cautiously onto the makeshift bridge, we trekked across the truck before climbing down onto the other side of the road.

  It had taken us five minutes to move forwards a couple of metres, I grew weary of such a slow pace.

  Strange warmth.

  A sound blasted through my ears as I felt something pass my cheek, I saw a small spark jolt out of the side of the truck; a hole appearing in the hood.

  "What the.." Dave uttered, looking around to determine the source of the gunshot. Finding it, we looked forwards towards the source; a barrel, grasped metal and clammy hands. A shockingly familiar cackle met my ears and I knew what we had walked into. I nudged Dave's shoulder and he shot away to the right.

  Dashing quickly to the left, I saw his finger contract on the trigger once more, I barely dodged the bullet this time. It was the murderer from the police evacuation preparation.

  I threw the blood-stained plank at the man, shifting the knife over into my right hand before breaking into a sprint. To my relief, the plank knocked the gun out of his hands. He fumbled around in his pocket, pulling out a knife that most likely slit the throat of the first police-officer.

  I gripped the knife in my hand, its blade still covered in blood from the infected I had killed before. The man swung wildly at me and I reciprocated; thrusting forwards in a blind swing. As he reached for my knife with his other hand, I felt a sharp pain run along my left shoulder as I thrust, a warm sensation sliding down my arm.

  I stopped dead for a second, realising what had happened. The blade of my knife had pierced through the pale hand of the man, blood trickled from the wound as I clutched at my shoulder. It was just a scratch.

  He staggered back, ripping the knife out with terrifying force, screaming to the dawn as he ran off towards a building further down the road, our only way forwards.

  Picking up the knife, I glanced upwards at the man. Before reaching the door, he began to move strangely, jerking almost; he twitched and let out a strange shout before slamming the door behind him.

  That didn't sound right.

  My gaze fell down upon the gun he had dropped. I reached out and picked it up from the melting snow. I pushed the eject button for the magazine and examined it in my hand.

  12 shots. Sliding the magazine back into the gun, I motioned Dave to come out from where had been hiding behind a car.

  In the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a shadow move; like I was being watched; almost as though I was being hunted.

  Murmurs could be heard from inside the store as we approached it, the sounds of breaking glass and shouting.

  "God, help me!" a voice called from inside the building, definite speech reaching my ears.

  We moved closer to the door, listening intently to the ramblings.

  "That bastard! How dare he do THIS to me! Me, I'm a warrior of faith!" the clearly insane man shouted at the top of his lungs. Between the words there were screams and strange, distorted cries not unlike the infected we had encountered.

  "What is this guy talking about..?" Dave muttered, raising his bat as we stood in front of the door.

  "I am His messenger, I am the saviour! I'll put an end t-!" The ramblings of the lunatic were suddenly cut short by a strange, dull sound. There was a brief shout of pain, then a click as the door opened before us.

  I staggered back as an absolutely bizarre sight fell upon my eyes. There was the murderer; pale white like a piece of paper, lifeless. His life stolen by a strange blade protruding out of his chest, curved at the end. I felt a lump in the back of my throat as I looked behind the man.

  Someone was stood behind him, clearly holding the blade in place, he waved at us with his free hand before a deep, friendly sounding voice issued from his lips.

  "Hey!" the young man called, proceeding to tear the long machete-like blade out of the man, kicking him aside with his foot.

  Beckoned into the abode of the store, I turned around as the door closed to observe the stranger fumbling with the lock before he span around to face us. With a quick movement upwards, the man brushed aside his relatively long hair from in front of his eyes, hooking it over his ear.

  Waving his hand, the man called us further into the store, into the back room behind the counter. Light beamed through the blinds as the sun slowly rose outside. The man turned around to face us, his dark leather trench coat of sorts swishing as he span. Dave motioned his hand towards the blade.

  "This? It's a kukri, mate. I'm John." exclaimed the leather-clad man with a brief chuckle, noticing our curiosity He slid the kukri behind his belt and his eyes moved towards the gun I was carrying.

  "I'll show you mine if you show me yours." I stated, having noticed a glint of metal on his waist when he had turned.

  "Nice eye, kid." John replied, chuckling once more. He pulled out a revolver from what appeared to be a holster on his waist. At the same time, we switched guns and examined them.

  John span the handgun around on his finger for a moment before examining it closely. I glanced down at the revolver in my hand, it had a heavy weight and appeared to hold six rounds.

  "Sig Sauer P226, railed." John muttered to himself, turning the handgun over in his hands before offering it back to me. "Standard military handgun, nice find." he added as I handed the revolver back over.

  For the first time, I shifted my gun from one hand over to the other, testing its weight before sliding into my pocket. I blinked as John put his hands to his mouth and began muttering to himself.

  "Mm.. Ah! Supplies! I knew I'd forgotten something." he exclaimed loudly, holstering his revolver once more. John reached for the handle of his kukri, sliding it out from under his belt to wipe the blade on an old shirt that lay on the table. Afterwards, he seemingly turned the blade on us from across the room.

  "I'm on a supply run, guys. And I could do with the extra hands. Will ya help me out?" John said, in a rather sing-song tone of voice.

  "And if we don't?" Dave said sternly, clearly intimidated by the blade, regardless of the fact that its owner seemed of no threat to them.

  "Well in that case, you can walk right out of here and be on with your lives. I won't stop you!" John replied, shrugging with a worried expression on his face, clearly clueless as to why Dave seemed so agitated. I stepped forwards, deciding to speak for the two of us.

  "We'll help, only if we get some of the cut too." I said, Dave nodded in agreement as I turned my head towards him; he'd clearly realised that John meant no harm with the kukri, aside from killing things with it.

  "A cut? Boy, I'll give you more than a cut. How about a place to stay as well?" John questioned curiously, seemingly delighted at the prospect of having guests.

  "Sounds like a plan." I said, gazing down towards the blade again.

  "Alrighty then. We're headed down to the supermarket a few minutes away; watch my back." he stated in a rather loud voice, spinning around on the spot.

  Upon opening the back door of the store, a harsh and bitter wind shot into it, chilling my bones to the core. John stepped out across the small, stone alleyway in a couple of strides. The back entrance to the store was fenced off from the rest of the alleyway.

  As he motioned towards the gate, John pulled out his revolver; blade in one hand, gun in the other. Removing his finger from the trigger, he raised his hand and signalled us to stop. With a gentle click, the tall wooden gate to the rest of the alleyway beyond swung open to reveal an infected facing away from us

  Bits of bloodied skin hung to his hair like dandruff as he silently hammered the ground with his fists.

  A quick swish could be heard as our vision was briefly obscured by John's coat as he stepped forwards, bringing his kukri forwards to plant it straight through the man's head as though it were no effort at all. John kicked the infected forward to remove the weapon, where it lay motionless.

  Slick.

  John almost looked like
he'd been doing this all his life. Nearly everything about the way he moved and acted when fighting so far screamed one thing; professionalism. I immediately had the thought that there was either something he wasn't telling us, or he really had the instincts of a killing machine.

  All I knew was that I paled in comparison to him.

  Again, my thoughts were rudely interrupted by a groan of pain, making me wish I could just stop and think for a second. John had apparently dealt with another one of them during the time it had taken us to turn the corner, leaving a misshapen mess on the floor.

  The supermarket loomed into sight, just beyond an area of shrubbery and a hundred metres of car park.

  "Alright. Keep it down here, no gunfire. Don't want to draw attention to ourselves." John muttered in a very low tone of voice. "The alleyways are crawling with these bleeders, so I thought we ought to jump the hedges and lay low."