by Jenkins, Seb
A knife stuck out rigidly from its left eye socket; Lizzie’s knife. He turned to his left, in a state of shock, only able to throw a nod of thanks to the young girl, whose hand was still outstretched from throwing the knife.
“Just missed ya,” she winked.
Max turned his attention back to the shop, and began to slash away with his machete. He drove it deep into the throat of one clicker in front of him whilst planting a strong kick into the chest of one to his right. The second was knocked back, toppling to the floor and taking others with him like a stack of dominoes.
He jumped towards them, swiftly pushing the sword through the rotting flesh on each of their heads, driving it deep into their brains until the gargle of blood turned to silence. Max stepped quickly back towards the shutters as five oncoming clickers encircled him. He looked back helplessly towards Lizzie, still keeping watch at the door.
It looked as if they would have to make a run for it. Max opened his mouth to urge Lizzie to run, but his foot caught one of the fallen zombies. He thumped heavily to the floor as the clickers threw themselves after him, fighting to be the first to take a bite into his warm, living flesh.
“MAX!” Lizzie screamed instinctively.
All Max could do was cover his face and wait for the pain to come. He heard the shutter doors tear open, and as he was instantly relieved that Lizzie had had the sense to save herself. Just as the first clicker leant in to clamp its rotten teeth into Max’s neck, the rattling sound of gunshots filled the air and five lifeless clicker bodies collapsed on top of his powerless body.
The pile of corpses lay still for a moment, then a moment longer, before a bloodied hand burst through the sea of limbs. Max shuffled and crawled his way out from the landslide of clickers, dragging himself across the shop floor towards where Lizzie had been standing just minutes before. Still dazed and confused, Max looked up towards the one source of light shining through into the shoe store.
Lizzie was still standing there, unharmed, but surrounding her were four men. They were all dressed head to toe in army style camouflage, two holding assault rifles and two with pistols. The man nearest Lizzie had his weapon jammed into her side.
“Well you must be Max,” he said with a smile. It wasn’t a warm or welcoming smile, it was a smile designed to show Max who was in charge.
“You better point that fucking gun away from her before I-” Max started to growl between gritted teeth.
“Before you what Max?” The man hooted.
“Before you overpower all four of us one by one before any of us can put a bullet between those angry eyes of yours?” he suggested.
“No, come on Max! Before you what? I really want to know!” he continued, urging a response from Max whilst hopping around excitedly.
He was a slim man, but tall; he must have at least a few inches on Max. He skin was pale and slightly yellowed, his face covered in cuts and scrapes. These wounds along with his dark stubble and deep brown eyes made him look menacing. Max instantly knew to take any threats as deadly serious.
He was still pacing around and jolting aggressively, as if he had so much excess energy. His eyes blinked around ten times the rate of a normal person, and he licked his lips between most sentences. Max took a long look around the group of men, noticing these similarities in all of them. The pale skin, the scars, the blinking, the licking of lips, the random spasms and bursts of energy. They looked psychotic. Max would have to step carefully.
“What do you want with us?” Max asked, slowly and calmly, keeping his emotions under control.
He didn’t want to get these guys angry.
“No Max. Before. You. Do. WHAT!?” The man growled, before screaming the final word inches from Max’s face.
His teeth were yellowed and his gums turning a dark black colour. The smell of rot shot up Max’s nostrils and he recoiled away in disgust.
“Before I do nothing. I can’t do anything” Max admitted, assuming it was what he wanted to hear.
“Correct!” The man yelped with glee, clapping his hands together as he did so. He took a few steps back, his whole body shaking as he did so, his head jerking violently to the left every few seconds.
He threw his arms out to the sides suddenly and shouted “Where are my manners?”
“My name is Otto!” he began, taking a flamboyant bow as he introduced himself.
“My friends here are Vince, Quinn, and the charming gentleman taking care of your little friend here is Eight. Unfortunately you have stumbled upon our territory here, and you have rudely helped yourself to our things I can see,” Otto rambled, gesturing towards Max’s new leather jacket.
“Look…Otto… I’m sorry, we didn’t know this was your…territory? We’ll return what he took and be on our way, no one has to get hurt,” Max pleaded, not looking at Otto has he did so but locking eyes with Lizzie to let her know she would be okay.
“Return the things they stole ay?” Eight giggled whilst looking Lizzie up and down.
“Well why don’t I help you out of those stolen clothes little lady,” he continued, licking his lips and tugging her jacket down off her shoulders.
“Don’t you fucking touch her!” Max screamed.
His voice boomed around the building, but Eight didn’t flinch, merely looking directly at Max with a dirty, yellow smile whilst running his hand up and down Lizzie’s arm.
“It’s like you said, Max, you can’t do anything,” he grinned.
Eight tugged Lizzie’s jacket down further and took hold of her shirt with one strong, grubby fist. Lizzie span round instantly, planting a solid right hook onto Eight’s nose. Blood spurted out from his nostrils and he stumbled backwards, dropping his gun and clutching his face. He let out a long, loud groan of pain before his eyes shot up, settling on Lizzie as if he was a lion stalking its prey.
He looked animalistic; any sense of humanity in his eyes had been lost, and his tongue slipped from his mouth to lick his lips at every chance. Then Max noticed something that sent an ice cold shiver running down the back of his spine. Eight jerked his head forward and bit the air, clicking his teeth together. Just as he moved towards Lizzie, arms reaching out to grab her, Otto blocked his path, shoving back his comrade.
“You will not harm them! Go back downstairs Eight, tell the others we’ve found the intruders and that they should prepare the feast for our special guests,” Otto ordered, with his hands planted on each of Eight’s shoulders.
“Just let me say goodbye to my little friend over here,” Eight seethed, never taking his eyes off Lizzie.
Otto threw a hand out, cracking a slap across Eight’s left cheek.
“You’ll do as I fucking say! Now go back downstairs before I really lose my temper,” Otto warned with a malicious tone.
Something changed in Eight’s eyes, and he shook his head aggressively from side to side, smacking himself with his hands as if trying to get something out of his skull.
“Yes sir,” he responded simply, but he was still clearly unhappy that he hadn’t been given the chance to exact any revenge.
Eight slinked off into the distance and through the doors back into the main part of the shopping centre.
“Next time, Otto won’t be so generous,” Otto warned Lizzie, before plucking up Eight’s fallen weapon and slinging it over his shoulder.
“Time to get our guests down to the feast anyway,” Otto grinned to his two companions.
“I don’t know about you two…but Otto is starving,” he giggled, flicking his eyes between Max and Lizzie.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Otto and his goons tied Max and Lizzie’s hands behind their backs before marching them back into the main shopping centre and down the dead, motionless, escalator stairs. A large, bustling group had congregated around a still but beautiful fountain in the centre of the mall. The sunlight was shining in through gigantic glass panels on the ceiling and the water glistened as the light bounded off it.
The scene was stunning, but Max
found it hard to enjoy in the circumstance. In truth, he barely worried for his own life, the prospect of death wasn’t exactly new to him, but he had Lizzie to think about now. If it came down to it, he would kill every last one of these psychopaths if it meant she walked out of here unhurt. Vince and Quinn bundled the pair onto the floor, propping them up against the side of the fountain before tying their legs together too.
Max took in his surroundings, checking out each one of Otto’s group in turn. He counted twelve men and seven women, most of whom showed the same strange signs as the ones he had already met. Random spasms, excess energy, people hopping around and smacking their heads, whispering under their breaths to themselves, licking their lips and most chilling of all, clicking their teeth together. Max glanced across at Lizzie; she was clearly straining to hide it, but she had noticed the same thing and the fear was painted across her face as clear as day.
Max turned his attention once more to the group in camouflage, concentrating particularly on a group of three huddled at the far side of the congregation. They were stacking wood into a large pile, and next to them sat a huge, black cooking pot.
“Welcome to the Brotherhood!” Otto yelled authoritatively, stood upon a chair high above his loyal followers.
The rest of the Brotherhood crowded around him, cheering and pumping their fists into the air. Otto soaked up the attention before gesturing with his hands for his friends to quiet down.
“Today we are joined by two very special guests,” he continued, waving his arm in the direction of Max and Lizzie.
At the mention of the pair tied up next to the fountain, many of the Brotherhood seemed to noticeably change. As soon as the focus was put on the two unwilling guests, they began to lick their lips and bite the air almost uncontrollably. It was as if someone had flicked a switch in their heads. All those sets of hungry, bloodshot eyes looking at Max and Lizzie as if they were hot, roast turkeys on Christmas day.
The attention was unsettling, and Lizzie couldn’t help but turn away from the horror show in front of her, instead looking desperately at Max, hoping he had some kind of plan. Max met her gaze, mouthing “it’s going to be okay” before facing back towards Otto.
“It’s been a while my friends, but tonight Otto will reward you. Tonight…” Otto boomed, grinning manically, turning to look into Max’s eyes before finishing.
“We feast,” he whispered chillingly.
The shopping centre erupted into chaos, filled with shouting and cheering. The chorus of screams only rose, as Otto jumped from his perch, splashed the wood with some liquid from a white bottle and threw a match onto the pile. The wood was instantly engulfed in fire, and Otto began slamming his fists into his chest like an alpha male gorilla.
Max could only watch on from a distance, powerless to stop what was about to happen. The veins on his arms pulsed as he desperately tried to tear apart his hands and free himself from the ropes tying him. His wrists burned as the rope rubbed away the skin, but they barely loosened and he gave up with a defeated sigh.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to Lizzie, blinking back the tears.
He had promised himself that no harm would come to her, after all that was the only reason he started travelling with her in the first place. He eyes darted around the room, seeking out some kind of escape; just anything he could use to get them out of this situation. He had nothing. He had failed.
The commotion rumbled on, with members of the Brotherhood roaring at each other and letting out bloodcurdling screams of joy. From the middle of the chaos, a familiar figure emerged, slinking over to the powerless Max and Lizzie.
Eight slithered down to Max’s height, clutching his forearm and gently pressing his lips to his ear. Max could feel his warm disgusting breath against his skin and the airs on his arm stood on end as Eight began to speak.
“Just so you know, I’m going to eat your pretty little friend here before I let anyone even touch you. You’re going to have to watch her scream, watch her burn and you won’t be able to do a thing,” he spat into Max’s ear.
Max’s body completely tensed up, his hands curling into fists and his eyes full with rage.
“Then I’m going to eat her in front of you. The young ones always taste the best,” he whispered, clicking his teeth and licking his lips every other word.
“Hey, maybe I’ll even let you have a taste,” he giggled.
That was the last straw. Max twisted his neck and threw his head forward, slamming his forehead into the bridge of Eight’s nose. Eight recoiled, clutching the same spot Lizzie had hit only minutes before. He hit the floor and began writhing around in pain, before crawling back to his feet and taking hold of Max by the collar.
Eight drove his fist into Max’s face, again and again, blood spraying from Max’s nose in all directions. Defenceless and unable to even raise his hands to block, Max’s face became awash with a deep shade of blood. Lizzie screamed out in protest, kicking away at the legs of Eight as best she could with her feet tied.
“Do you know why they call me Eight little girly?” he growled at her as he pushed her back.
The chanting around the fire had stopped, and Otto and Vince were attempting to pull the furious Eight away from Max’s now still body. They got a hold of him, each clutching him under one arm and they dragged him away, but not before he could shout back an answer to Lizzie.
“I’ll leave that to your imagination pretty!”
What had he done? Killed eight people? Been in prison eight times? Eaten eight people? All of these ran through Lizzie’s mind before her racing mind was yanked back to reality by a groan from Max. His body began to stir slightly, but his face was covered in blood, cuts, and had started to swell.
“Oh shit! Max! Are you okay? Can you hear me?” Lizzie asked frantically, shuffling over to his side as best she could.
“Maybe the eight times he’s actually brushed his fucking teeth,” Max mumbled, spitting out a mouthful of blood before chuckling.
Lizzie half laughed and half sobbed. Max was tough, but he had taken a bad beating; not that any of it would matter once the Brotherhood decided to start cooking up some dinner. Lizzie leant against Max; it was the nearest thing to a hug she could give him whilst tied up.
Meanwhile, Eight had been dragged away towards the fire where most of the Brotherhood still gathered. He was still kicking and screaming, lashing out and cursing at the men holding back his arms and legs.
“I told you not to harm our guests Eight. Otto warned you. Now Otto has to punish you,” the Brotherhood leader stated, in his usual repulsive giggle, as if this was all a joke to him.
“You all know how we deal with those who disobey us!” Otto continued, unsheathing a hunting knife from his right hip.
“Any last words Eight?” Otto asked, approaching the restrained Eight from behind and speaking directly into his ear.
“I-” Eight began, before Otto sharply sliced the serrated knife edge along his throat.
Blood spurted on those holding Eight still, and all was quiet apart from the chilling gurgling as his windpipe filled with fluid. The men released their grasps, letting him fall to a heap on the floor. A pool of blood flowed across the floor, spreading wider and wider around his lifeless body. The silence continued; it was deafening. Every member of the Brotherhood stared at Otto, almost as if waiting for permission to make a noise once again.
Their leader looked around his group of followers and slowly bent down, hunched over Eight’s body. To Max it looked like an act of remorse or regret; however, all these ideas were quashed as Otto arched his blade up into the air and plummeted it down through his old companion’s skull. He stood back up, brushed himself down and wiped his knife on Vince’s jacket.
“Better to be safe,” he shrugged.
“Now who’s hungry?” he cried, lifting his arms in the air like a conductor of an orchestra.
On cue, his band of thugs cheered and wailed once more, and attention was again on Max and Lizzie. Otto be
nt over the large cooking pot and retrieved a black material case. He unrolled the case on the floor in front of him and hovered his hand over the objects, unable to choose one.
His face resembled a child in a toy shop, not quite able to choose between his favourites. After a minute of pondering, he withdrew a silver, metal cleaver. The light bounced off it menacingly, but what was most terrifying was the smile materialising on Otto’s face.
“Bring me Max, before he bruises,” Otto snickered, ushering Vince and Quinn over to the fountain.
Vince pulled a knife from his waistband and cut the rope holding Max’s ankles together. He and Quinn then took hold of Max and marched him over to the fire, before shoving him at Otto’s feet.
“Don’t you dare you sick bastards!” Lizzie screamed, tears streaming down her face.
“I’m going to fucking end you!” she continued to yell.
“Don’t worry child, you’ll get your turn. We are so very hungry,” Otto smiled back at her.
“Go and gag her,” he muttered to a nearby woman, who happily obliged.
Otto pinned Max’s head to the floor under his boot, carefully flipping the cleaver up in the air, twirling it and catching it over and over again.
“Where to start, where to start…” he pondered aloud.
The crowd around the fire had edged ever closer, and the sound of clicking teeth was more prominent than ever. It was as if they could already taste his flesh on their tongues.
“Shall I start with a leg, an arm, or just put you out your misery?” Otto continued to think.
“Eat shit,” Max responded, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut, waiting for the pain to come.
“Such a foul mouth; maybe I should start with your tongue. Flip him over!” Otto screeched.
Vince and Quinn turned Max on his front, and Otto knelt down on his chest, pinning him to the floor. Max was struggling to breathe as Otto tilted his head back and yanked the tongue from his mouth. He threw down the cleaver, snatching up instead a smaller but sharper blade. He ran the cold, hard, steel against Max’s tongue, back and forth, back and forth.