Ghostland_A Zombie apocalypse Novel

by Shaun Whittington

  Surprisingly, there was no protest from Simon; he nodded in agreement to Dicko’s plan.

  “There’s other fruit there as well,” said Dicko.

  Simon asked, “Like what?”

  “Well ... there’s bushes with blackberries, mushrooms, strawberries. Better take a couple of bags with us.”

  “Seems a bit daft walking all that way for some fruit. What we got from the supermarket should do us for a while.”

  “There’s other stuff there.”

  “Other stuff?” Simon screwed his face after his query.

  “There’s a visitor centre not far from the orchard. There’s a play park there. A restaurant, a kiosk where they used to sell chocolate, sweets... I think it’s worth checking out. I would have checked out the place further when I passed it, but like I told you before … I ran into some trouble.”

  Simon suddenly clutched onto his chest as a pain went across. He then began to feel short of breath and stood up.

  Dicko looked at Simon strangely and asked if he was okay.

  “I’m fine,” Simon stood up and added, “I’ll be back in a sec,” before going upstairs.

  Simon felt light-headed and struggled to reach the landing. He turned around and sat on the top step and put his head in his hands. “What’s wrong with me?”

  Simon felt like he couldn’t breathe and tried to suck a deep breath in, held it for a few seconds, and then slowly released it. He still felt short of breath and placed his two fingers from his right hand on his neck, feeling for his carotid artery. He could feel his pulse and placed his left hand on his chest where his heart was. He was trying not to panic. He knew that panicking would make it worse, whatever it was.

  Simon heard the door open downstairs and could see Dicko looking up at him.

  Dicko called up, “You okay, Simon?”

  Simon nodded. “I think so.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. Just give me a minute, will you?”

  “You don’t have to go. I can take Yoler.”

  “No, I want to. I can’t continue in this world with my head in the sand. I need to man up, for Imelda’s sake.”

  Dicko nodded once and went back into the living room.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Simon and Dicko said their farewells to the girls, left the house and walked to the front of the place, now heading down the lane. There were trees on both sides of the road and both knew that an ambush of any kind could occur. Dicko seemed relaxed as he strolled, but his partner walking next to him was jittery and was twisting his neck from left to right every second, gazing into the trees.

  Noticing this, Dicko released a chuckle and told Simon to relax.

  “Relax?” Simon shook his head and felt his right pocket to make sure the steak knife was still there. “I can’t do that.”

  “It’ll be fine. I’ve walked lanes like this and nothing has happened for miles. If you don’t go out, fear will keep you inside. Staying inside with no supplies makes you hungry.”

  “We have supplies.”

  “I know we do.” Dicko nodded. “But this place could be a little goldmine. I didn’t have chance to stay long because of that gang turning up.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I did what any sane man would. I ran. I didn’t see them, and they didn’t see me, so I don’t know what they look like. Probably miles away now.” Dicko smiled to himself and said, “Maybe many months ago I would have stayed and faced the gang.”

  “Really?”

  Dicko nodded. “I was in a bad place for many months, did some bad things. Maybe I lost my mind for a while, I don’t know, but I came back.”

  Simon sighed and wiped his clammy hands on his jeans. “What if there’re other people there today?”

  “We approach this place with caution,” Dicko said. “If there’re more than three of them, then we leave.”

  Simon seemed perplexed with his companion’s statement. “So ... what do we do if there’s three of them ... two of them, even?”

  “We talk to them, if they seem okay. The gang I mentioned earlier … you just knew were bad news.”

  “Talk?”

  Dicko chuckled and put his arm around Simon, but Simon felt like shrugging it off. He felt like Dicko was being patronising.

  “We can’t just assume that everybody we come across are bad people,” said Dicko. “If we see other survivors, we need to get to know them, unless they turn on you. We need to help each other out. Look what you did for me and Yoler.”

  “You told me not to trust anyone a few days ago,” Simon said with his face screwed up. “Make up your mind.”

  “I said that?”

  “You said that friends and good people don’t exist anymore.”

  “Did I?” Dicko chuckled. “Am I allowed to change my mind?”

  Simon never answered and shook his head with confusion.

  “I know you had that experience with the man by the pond, but there are some good people out there as well. There’re a lot of people out there that are hungry, have lost family members, and this has turned some of them into psychologically damaged individuals.”

  “It’s just so...” Simon could feel tears filling his eyes.

  “What?”

  “Fucked up.”

  Dicko smiled and sped up a little, noticing that Simon was moving ahead. “It is what it is now. Nothing we can do to change it.”

  “I’m dreading the next winter.”

  “Don’t worry about winter. Worry about now.”

  Dicko veered left and stepped into a wooded part. He looked up at the trees and swivelled three-sixty, making himself a little dizzy. They were at the orchard and there were many apples hanging from the branches above them.

  “Now what, mate?” Simon asked.

  “Now, I climb.” Dicko smiled, took off his bag and threw it at Simon’s feet. He then climbed the nearest tree. For fifteen minutes Dicko had climbed and picked apples, then threw them at Simon, who then placed them in the bags. It had gone better than the two guys thought it would. Both of the bags were full of apples and there wasn’t any room for anything else.

  “We’ll check out the visitor centre,” Dicko said. “If it’s clear, and there’s supplies there, we’ll go back and get the car.”

  “We should have done that in the first place,” Simon huffed.

  “Can’t be too careful, Simon. Being in a vehicle makes us more of a target when they’re people around. We could be heard from hundreds of yards away.”

  The two men hit the road once more, followed the bend in the road and Dicko pointed up ahead, to a crossroad, at a brown tourist sign. The visitor centre was two hundred yards to their left. They weren’t far now.

  “This way.” Dicko beckoned Simon to follow him through a cluster of trees.

  Simon seemed confused and could see the sign for the entrance up ahead.

  “If there’s someone there,” Dicko began to explain, “then I don’t want them to see us coming.”

  “Fair enough.” Simon nodded.

  “We’ll sneak in here,” Dicko pointed in the wooded area, “and if there’re people here, too many of them, then we’re gonna have to scarper.”

  The two went as quietly as they could as their feet shifted through the bracken, and Dicko held his hand up to stop Simon from progressing any further. Simon stopped behind Dicko and both could see they were coming to the edge of the wooded area.

  Dicko took another step forward and could see the visitor centre, the car park and the play park. He could also see the kiosk and restaurant from a distance that was situated behind the play park. The place looked barren.

  “It seems quiet enough,” Simon remarked.

  Both men were crouched down, scanning the area.

  Dicko nodded in agreement. “Looks that way. Probably best if we get a proper look, then we can go back and get the car.”

  The two males emerged from the wooded area and strolled over the play pa
rk. A lot of effort had been put into the park. All climbing frames, swings and other props were made from wood, and even the large ground area they were walking on was covered in wood chipped bark.

  Simon’s right shoulder was getting sore with the heavy bag of apples and he swapped shoulders. Despite his skinny frame, Dicko walked as if he didn’t have a heavy bag on at all.

  They reached the visitor centre and both looked around. The whole area was surrounded by trees, and Dicko told Simon to wait where he was whilst he took a walk round the small wooden building.

  Two minutes later, he was back and told Simon the place was locked, but he couldn’t see any sign of life around the area.

  “We’ll check the kiosk and restaurant,” Dicko suggested. “If the places have already been raided, there’s no point coming back.”

  They could see that the wooden kiosk was nothing more than a small wooden hut. It was a place that would have sold ice creams, served coffee and sandwiches. The shutter at the front of the kiosk was down and Dicko suggested going round the back. They could see a wooden door and see that it was shut, but there was no padlock. It seemed like it was a simple matter of sliding the bolt to get inside.

  Dicko did just that. His trench knife, Trevor, remained in its holster, so he was confident that there was nothing inside. He pulled the door open and peered inside. He turned to Simon and said, “We’re definitely coming back.” He opened the door wider and Simon had a look inside. It wasn’t what someone would call healthy food, but what was on offer was products hard to ignore.

  The kiosk had many chocolate bars, soda drinks and crisps. Some of the shelves had been emptied, but there was still plenty left. Definitely worth going back to the farmhouse and bringing the car back, Dicko thought.

  “We’ll check the restaurant and then go and get the car,” was Dicko’s comment.

  Simon agreed and nodded the once.

  Dicko shut the door to the kiosk and slid the bolt back.

  “It’s quite tempting to just dump the apples and take this stuff instead,” Simon said.

  “It is,” said Dicko, “but we’re not going to.” He slapped Simon on the shoulder and said, “Come on. Restaurant, and then home.”

  The two men left the kiosk and approached the restaurant, with their paranoid eyes scanning around.

  Dicko was the first to approach the main glass door and tried the handle. They looked inside and both could see the restaurant was empty and immaculate looking.

  “Looks empty,” Simon remarked.

  “Just need to check the kitchen.” This time Dicko did put his bag down and pulled out his trench knife from his holster. “You wait there.”

  “Okay, mate.” Simon never argued with Dicko. The man knew what he was doing. He certainly had more experience than Simon.

  Simon waited patiently, but the paranoia was strong. He looked from left to right, into the woods, with shallow breath, but he kept his knife in his pocket. Dicko had only been away for a couple of minutes, but each minute felt like an hour for Simon Washington.

  Dicko returned and Simon noticed that the man was panting and also had dark blood on the side of his cheek.

  “You okay?” Simon looked startled. “You seem a little...” Simon couldn’t find the words, but Dicko certainly didn’t seem himself.

  “There’s nothing in the kitchen,” Dicko panted. “Nothing that’s edible ... anymore.”

  Simon nodded and scrunched his face at his companion. “You seem different. You look... You look kind of excited.”

  “Do I?” Dicko cackled.

  Simon nodded.

  Dicko beamed and beckoned Simon inside. “Come and take a look.”

  Simon refused to go in and waggled his head. “Tell me what it is first.”

  “It’s a Canavar,” said Dicko. “Haven’t seen one of them in weeks.”

  “In weeks?” Simon added, “I haven’t seen one of them in months.”

  “It came at me when I entered the kitchen. It was the only one there. It must have been stuck or something.”

  “Had it killed anybody?”

  “I didn’t see any blood or remains anywhere. It was just shambling about, looking lost and disorientated. You wanna take a look?” Dicko revealed his stained knife, and put it back into his holster. “I had to stab it in the head.”

  “No, I’m okay.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive. Let’s just get the hell out of here.”

  “Let’s just get the hell out of here,” Dicko mocked. “You do realise we’re coming back, don’t you?”

  Simon nodded.

  “Something like this,” Dicko pointed at the kiosk, “is a rare thing after nearly a year into this catastrophe. We’ve got the stuff from the supermarket, the apples, and now this confectionery. And then when that produce starts growing round the back of the farm, we’ll be set up for the rest of the year.”

  Simon clenched his teeth together and said, “Okay, so is that the lecture over with?”

  Dicko smiled. “I’m just saying.”

  “Let’s go back.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Should take us twenty minutes to get back,” Dicko announced. “Maybe a bit longer.”

  Simon never said anything. He took a quick glance at his companion and realised they were dressed the same. They both had an all black look. They had black boots, combats and a black coat over their black T-shirt. They looked mean, two guys that looked like individuals you didn’t want to cross, but Simon didn’t feel very mean or brave at all.

  Every ten seconds or so he was moving with his bag from one shoulder to the next. The more he walked, the heavier the bag became. He was getting tired.

  “Simon?” Dicko looked to the side of him, at his companion. “Are you okay?”

  Simon nodded, but not convincingly.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Just tired, mate.”

  There were still trees to either side of them, and the two men reached a bend in the road and they both recognised it. They were halfway to the farmhouse.

  Dicko took another glance to the side of him and could see that Simon was struggling with the bag, puffing out impatiently, and wiping his forehead with the backs of his hands.

  “Won’t be long now,” Dicko spoke up, trying to raise Simon’s already crushed spirits. Maybe he didn’t sleep well the night before, thought Dicko.

  The road straightened up the more they progressed, and the pace of both men increased as the realisation sank in that their place wasn’t very far away now.

  “About what you saw in the restaurant...” Simon began but never finished.

  “Yes?” Dicko looked to the side and now both men were staring at one another.

  “Keep it to yourself.”

  Simon’s comment sounded like a threat more than a request, but Dicko tried not to let it rile him. He was aware that he had bigger balls than Simon and would win in a fight if ever the pair of them fell out, so he didn’t take Simon’s rude comment to heart.

  “Yeah?” Dicko tried to play it down. “And why’s that?”

  “I told Imelda that they were all gone.” Simon lowered his head and kicked the ground. “I told her that the bombs had got most of them, and that the rest had wilted away.”

  “Why did you tell her that?” Dicko had a feeling why Simon had told Imelda this, but asked anyway.

  “After we lost Diana and Tyler she ... we both were ... I don’t know how to explain it.”

  Simon stopped walking and Dicko did the same. Both bearded men looked at one another and Dicko waited patiently for his companion to finish off his explanation.

  “We were both shell shocked, but Imelda struggled to sleep and wet herself for weeks after my wife and son were taken.”

  “I’m sorry.” Dicko placed his hand on Simon’s shoulder and added, “It must have been rough.”

  “Still is.”

  Simon dipped his shoulders and allowed the bag to slowly fall off
and land by his feet. He placed his hands over his face and took Dicko by surprise by sobbing like a child. Dicko never hesitated. He took a step forward and put his arms around the man he had only known for a few days and both men hugged. The embrace was short, and Simon soon broke away and took a step back and began to apologise.

  “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” said Dicko. He scratched at his long dark hair that hadn’t been cut in a while. The fringe was down to his eyebrows, and his hair at the sides covered his ears.

  “She’s all that I have left.” Simon wiped his tears away with the palms of his hands and lifted his bag back over his shoulder. “If anything happens to her, then that’s me finished. I don’t even know why I’m putting the pair of us through this.”

  “You want your daughter to live, right?”

  “Of course. But what kind of world is she going to spend her adult life in?”

  “If she sticks with you, me and Yoler, that girl of yours will be a true warrior.”

  “I don’t want her to be a warrior. I want her to be like a normal girl, going to dance classes, doing gymnastics, going out with her friends—”

  “Those days are gone,” Dicko snapped, bringing Simon back to the harsh reality. “And they won’t be coming back.”

  “I know,” Simon sighed. “It breaks my heart to think what she’ll be missing out on.”

  “She’ll learn to survive, if she sticks with us,” Dicko said. “She’ll learn other things as she gets older, and...”

  Simon had noticed that his companion had paused. “And?”

  “If anything happens to you...”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ll take care of her. And hopefully Yoler will be around still.”

  “Thanks ... I think.” Simon wasn’t sure how to take Dicko’s statement. “I have no plans on going anywhere, but thanks, mate.”

  “I’m serious, man.” Dicko nodded and flashed Simon a smile. “I know I’ve only known you guys for a few days, but she’s a great girl. I couldn’t leave her on her own if anything happened to you. I won’t leave her to fend for herself.”