The Death in a Northern Town Trilogy (Books 1-3): Welcome To Dead Town

by Peter Mckeirnon

  I had to investigate and again I took my daughter’s hockey stick for protection before carefully climbing down to the ground floor.

  I cautiously walked towards the open doorway. With both hands wrapped tightly around the hockey stick, I was as prepared as I could be should I find myself confronted with intruders. The chance of there being zombies in the cellar was slim at best. The door to the house remained both closed and secured as did all of the windows. If the undead had attacked then I would expect to see evidence of a forced entry, shredded skin and blood. That’s the thing about zombies, they’re not very good at covering up their tracks. People on the other hand, well people are sneaky bastards and if anyone knew that Butty had two generators plus a lifetimes supply of tinned spam in the cellar, then I wouldn’t put it past them taking a chance on a shifty steal.

  I stood at the top of the stairs looking down at the steep concrete steps. The cellar was brightly lit which left me convinced that there was definitely someone down there. There is no way Butty would leave a light on in a room that was not being used. It was one of his pet hates and, as children, running into rooms and turning lights on was the source of much amusement for me and much annoyance and frustration for Butty. I recall this one time when he was looking after me whilst Nan and Granddad had gone out for a dance and a game of bingo. I spent the best part of the evening running around the house flicking light switch after light swift. On, off, on, off the lights flickered. Like a budget rave without any music. Our grandparents came home to find my brother had twisted my arms behind my back and super glued my hands together. Granddad had to soak my hands in my Nan’s nail polish remover to free them up. To this day I don’t have any finger prints on both hands because of this. Maybe I should have pursued a life of crime instead of eating disgusting mayonnaise for a living eh? I’ll tell you one thing, I’ve never left a light on in an empty room since!

  I gently placed my right foot on the top step then slowly began my descent. Thoughts of disturbing a gang of thieving survivors looting my brother’s stash of apocalypse necessities rattled through my tired mind. Christ, all I had to defend myself was Emily’s hockey stick. No doubt the intruders would be violent. If they had the balls to loot an occupied house then surely they wouldn’t think twice about attacking someone, especially a trembling wreck of a man wielding a teenage girl’s hockey stick.

  Every carefully placed step brought more and more of the cellar into my line of sight. The bright light cast a long dark shadow across the floor. It was of a man and a huge one at that if his shadow was anything to go by. I gulped hard. The hockey stick began to slip from my grip due to the nervous sweat that seemed to be running from every pore in my body. I’d need another shower at this rate!

  I started to question what the hell it was I thought I was doing. I’m not my brother and I’m not 80s Dave. I’m not even Emily! I’m just a man with an irrational hatred of mayonnaise and the gag reflex of Linda Blair in The Exorcist. This wasn’t the kind of thing I did and as I continued to try and talk myself out of entering the basement, my legs did not appear to be listening to my protests and before I knew it I was stood in the cellar, looking upon the back of a young man, knelt down, quietly sobbing into his hands. It was Jonathon.

  I let out an involuntary sigh of relief which alerted Jonathon to my presence. He quickly dried his eyes and rose to his feet, obviously startled by my presence. I too was surprised to see him down here, albeit pleasantly. Thank the heavens his looming shadow was a red herring.

  “Mr Diant you, you startled me. What are you doing down here?” An agitated Jonathon jittered.

  “I saw the door open and thought we had intruders. You’re lucky I noticed it was you or you could have had this hockey stick wrapped around your head,” I replied, acting the tough guy. “Why are you down here anyway? There’s nothing here but tins of spam and these old generators,”

  It was clear he was upset and had been crying for some time. His tears had cleaned away the dirt from his cheeks; the rest of his face was still marked with soil and grime from hammering stakes into the ground outside the house. I was reluctant to comment on his upset in case he did not want to share what plagued him.

  “I wanted to go somewhere quiet away from everyone. Somewhere I could be on my own for a little while. I had thought to lock myself away in the bathroom but someone had left a shit the size of the Titanic in the toilet so I couldn’t stay in there. Did you see me crying? You did didn’t you? Please don’t tell Emily Mr Diant. I don’t want her to know I’ve been crying. She’s so strong and in control. I’ve tried to be like her but it’s difficult you know? I haven’t seen my parents for over a day now and no matter how hard I try to put it to the back of my mind and carry on as normal I can’t, I just can’t. I’m not an idiot. I know they are probably dead. Do you know how difficult that is? To know I’ll never see them again? It’s all I can think about. You know the last thing I did was complain to my mum because she hadn’t ironed my favourite shirt and I wanted to look nice for Emily. I walked out on her angry over a stupid shirt. I keep playing it over and over in my mind. I would do anything to change what happened, anything to take away how horrible I was to her and instead give her hug and tell her how much I love her. Then there’s my Dad. I had been a real shit to him for weeks. He would always nag and get on to me about school and making plans for when I left. I’m a teenager! I don’t want to think about that stuff, I just want to live in the now and spend time with Emily. When I think about how I dismissed everything he said I feel sick. He only wanted what’s best and I was too selfish to see that,” Jonathon cried.

  I felt really bad for the kid. He was falling apart in front of me and all I wanted to do was tell him everything would be ok but how could I? The world we had known was gone. Death, chaos, pain and fear had taken the places of comfort, security, protection and happiness. His family was gone and he never had a chance to say goodbye. That was something I could relate to as I had felt the same when Sarah was taken from me. The best I could do was to let Jonathon know that he was wanted and how much he means to our little group.

  “I know what it’s like to lose someone suddenly without having a chance to say goodbye. Without having the chance to tell them one last time how much you love them and how much they mean to you. Believe me when I say I understand what you are going through. When it comes to people we love it’s easy to think we have all the time in the world to say those things. You think they’ll be around forever. Life is precious, especially now, and you have to concentrate on what you have. What you have is Emily and the rest of us lunatics. We might not be your family but I can tell you this - we’re the next best thing. Emily loves you, I can see that clearly and if it wasn’t for you, she might not be alive. Shit, I might not be alive. I have you to thank for that. You are an integral part of our little team and if we’re going to keep kicking this apocalypse in its bum hole then we need you to be strong. Emily needs you to be strong. You’re wrong with what you said before. You’re every bit as tough as my daughter. She’s like she is because she’s got you. Yeah ok, her Uncle Butty brainwashing her these past few years has probably got something to do with it too but you’re good for her. You’re good for each other and I for one am glad she met you. Even if you do need a haircut and have suspect taste in jeans,” I said, placing my arm around his shoulder, giving him a good old man hug.

  Whilst my words couldn’t erase Jonathon’s loss it did cheer him up momentarily. He even managed a smile at my quip about his hair and jeans.

  “Thanks Mr. Diant, that means a lot,” Jonathon replied. “You know, there’s more than just these generators down here.”

  Jonathon nodded towards a large plastic beer keg up against the far wall. Written across the keg in a childish scribble in black biro were the words “Butty’s Brew”. Now normally I would never condone underage drinking. But with everything he had been through, if anyone deserved a drink it was Jonathon.

  “Fill your boots,” I said, moti
oning for him to approach the keg and take a drink. “Just don’t tell Butty I said you could drink his home brew. He’s very precious about that stuff.”

  He placed his head under the keg tap and opened the valve. A dark brown ale gushed out, overwhelming the poor lad’s throat.

  “Christ it tastes like feet!” Jonathon coughed and spluttered.

  “That will be the cheese. He’s been obsessed with making the perfect cheese flavoured beer for years. Brie Bitter, Mascarpone Mild, Cheddar Artois… he’s tried them all but could never get the flavour right. He said he was saving this batch for a special occasion so maybe he’s cracked it this time,” I said.

  “Well if the flavour he was looking for was athletes foot then he got it spot on. Whoa it’s strong though. It’s got a definite kick to it. I can feel the heat burning through my chest,” replied Jonathon before positioning his mouth under the tap and chugging down more of the cheesy brew.

  “Hey go easy on that stuff. We don’t want Butty to notice that someone has been at his home brew. He’ll probably subject us all to an evening of interrogations and torture methods till the culprit, i.e. you, confessed. I for one don’t fancy spending my night being subjected to Chinese burn after Chinese burn whilst my nutty brother sings the theme tune to the Golden Girls,” I said.

  The threat of Butty’s torture method put an end to Jonathon’s beer guzzling and we made our way out of the cellar and back upstairs. My words had helped, if not only for a short while, to lift Jonathon out of his slump and when he saw Emily cooking up a spam dinner in Butty’s bedroom/kitchen, he brightened up and a smile spread across his face big enough to warm the coldest of hearts.

  Scabby Heads & 80s Threads

  “We shouldn’t have left him,” Joni jittered, fidgeting nervously whilst scratching the dry raw scalp of his bald head.

  “He’s our colleague, ONE OF US! We’re supposed to look out for each other, especially now. Thanks to you guys we left him to die. TO DIE! Christ he saved my life yesterday. I was done for, finished and he was there when I needed him and when he needed me what did I do? Nothing. I did fucking nothing because you two dragged me out of there! You know what? I’d take Andy over either of you fucking losers. Ged won’t be happy when he finds out what went down. He won’t be happy at all and when he wants to know what happened to Andy I’m telling him the truth. That you guys made the decision to leave him behind and I had nothing to do with it. This is all on you! Even if, even if I was involved, Ged’s my family, he’s my cousin. He’d go easy on me anyway but not you guys. You guys are for it when we get back. Remember what he did to that old lady? Well that’s nothing in comparison to what he will do to you, you pair of shits. For fuck’s sake my arse hurts!” he complained, the neck of a vodka bottle pushing into his tailbone. “Drive carefully over speed bumps will you? It’s not exactly comfortable sitting back here. Why the hell do I have to sit in the back anyway? I never get to sit up front.”

  “We, we don’t want you sitting up front Joni because you, you never stop bitching and you are always itching that manky head of yours huhuhuh. You’re like a human snow globe huhuhuh,” Tom giggled his response from the passenger seat of the van.

  Tom pushed his chubby dirty fingers into an open tin of corned beef then shovelled the content into his mouth, eating greedily before licking every last piece from his grotty fat digits. It was the third tin he had devoured since hastily leaving the Co-operative supermarket on Granville Street. He was a big man with a big appetite and corned beef was his favourite. Tom was ecstatic when Ged told them they would be going out to find supplies. He knew he would be able to help himself to as much food as he liked. He was a basic man, tall with a large frame, strong and responded well to instruction. As long as there was food to eat he could be controlled and Ged knew how to exploit the big guy’s weakness for his own gains.

  Ed placed his left hand on the gear stick and awkwardly shifted into 5th. He had never driven Andy’s van before and it had long been an annoyance of his that his now deceased work mate refused to let anyone behind the wheel. With Andy gone, there was nothing to stop him and he was enjoying the drive, relishing in the fact that his colleague would be going berserk if he was still alive.

  He lifted his eyes from the road, looking into the rear view mirror of the Blue 55 plate Citroen Relay, frowning at the sight of Joni continuing to complain and scratch at his repulsive head in the back of the van. His protesting had been continuous since they had all witnessed Andy get attacked by zombies at the Co-operative Supermarket and had left him for dead.

  It was Ed’s decision to leave Andy behind and he knew it to be the right one. Having already been bitten, his colleague was a dead man walking and Joni’s threat of blabbing to the boss was not a concern. Ed had worked for Ged long enough to know that he would have acted exactly the same if he had been in his position. Plus, it was only yesterday that Ged was considering ‘ending’ Andy himself. He had nothing to fear from his boss, of that he was sure. If it had been Joni they left behind then it would have been a very different story.

  “Why couldn’t it have been Joni we had to leave behind hey Ed huh?” Tom asked, spitting pieces of corned beef across the dashboard.

  “No such luck Tom. Anyway he’s Ged’s cousin, our lives wouldn’t be worth living if we let anything happen to him. Even if he is the world’s biggest pain in the arse. The fidgeting, whingeing little shit is our responsibility. If he dies, we die,” Ed replied, grabbing an old rag and wiping the chewed corned beef from the dashboard. “Come on now Tom have some respect, this is Andy’s van you’re spitting your corned beef all over. Now how would he feel if he knew you were making a mess like this?”

  “But Andy is dead now Ed. He doesn’t feel anything anymore?” Came Tom’s confused reply.

  Ed could not help but laugh at the response and Tom, still confused at Ed’s question, started to laugh also. He wasn’t so sure why he was laughing but if Ed found something funny then so did he. This incensed Joni and from his position in the rear of the van, he yelled and protested at the chortling coming from up front. Ed and Tom curbed their laughter. If only to shut him up.

  “Will Ged be mad at us Ed, for what we did? We had no choice right, you said it, we had no choice. The bad people got to him and we had to leave him. Once the bad people get you, you go to Heaven where Mum and Uncle Lenny went and you leave your body behind and it becomes one of the bad people. You taught me that Ed,” Tom said.

  “That’s right Tom. These bad people that you see, they are not like you and I. They used to be but they died and all the things that made them human… compassion, empathy, courage, fear… they all went to heaven. Only their bodies remained and they got taken over by the bad people and all they want to do is hurt you. What do you do if you see the bad people Tom?" Ed asked.

  "I don’t do nothing unless they get close then I smash their heads until they break," Tom replied.

  "That's right and don’t you worry about Ged. I’ll explain what happened and if he is mad then it won’t be with you. You got nothing to worry about, trust me,” Ed explained, attempting to ease the big guy’s concerns.

  "You've got everything to worry about you big dumb idiot!" Joni shouted from the back of the van.

  Tom lowered his head and sulked into his chest, scooping the final chunks of corned beef into his mouth. No sooner had Ed picked Tom up, Joni had knocked him back down again. Ed was furious but held himself in a silent rage knowing that one day, Joni was going to pay for his behaviour and Ed said a little prayer for it to be sooner rather than later.

  "This is the last stop of the day. Let's take what we can quickly so we can get back to Ged. He’ll be wondering where the hell we are," Ed said, bringing the van to a stop outside a small row of shops on Russell Road in the Weston Point area of Runcorn.

  "Don't bark orders at me, Crothers, who the fuck do you think you're talking to? I'm in charge here not you and I get to say if this is the last stop!" Joni yelled.

 
; Joni's forehead tightened from frowning, such was his anger, and puss wheezed from an open sore, dripping down into his left eye.

  "Eeeeeeee….!" Tom repulsed, pointing his chubby index finger at the pink ooze sliding into Joni's eye.

  "You know what? FUCK THE BOTH OF YOU! Do what you want, I'm staying here in the van. I hope you both get yourselves fucking killed you pair of cunts!" Joni screamed.

  The insults continued as Joni flew into a rage, punching and kicking the insides of the van. Ed and Tom left him to it, grabbing baseball bats for weapons and leaving the vehicle which shook back and forth with the muffled sounds of Joni's tantrum audible from outside. There were zombies everywhere but non showed interest in them, instead they shuffled towards Sandy Lane, in the direction of the Pavilions.

  "Remember what I said now; ignore the bad people, only attack if you need to defend yourself, you got that?" Ed asked his friend.

  "Uh-huh," came Tom's nervous reply.

  “The two that run this place, James and Kerry, they are good people; I have been coming here for years. James served me my first bottle of cider when I was just eighteen and Kerrie has worked there for as long as I can remember. If they are still alive then maybe we can work something out and they will let us take some supplies. If they’re dead then, well, we take everything,” Ed said.

  They quickly made their way to the newsagents. Ed pulled open the shop door and they cautiously walked inside. The first thing that hit him was the smell. It was a mixture of sickly sweet and decaying meat. Like rotting skin sprayed with cheap perfume. The smell of the dead. Ed knew what it meant. It meant James and Kerrie had not survived, but had they remained dead or had they come back? He turned to check on Tom who was filling his pockets with confectionery, completely oblivious to the smell and Ed’s concern.