Ghostland_A Zombie apocalypse Novel

by Shaun Whittington

  With Yoler leading the way, they went around the pond and headed for the cluster of trees that would lead them out to the field, leading them to the incline that would take them to the farmhouse. Yoler wiped the few beads of sweat on her head and turned around to see both father and daughter holding hands. This scene made her heart swell and she knew she was lucky. She had spent months after months scavenging, going from one place to the next. Now, she had found somewhere where she was happy, with people she liked and got along with. She just hoped that it was something that would last.

  She had walked along the flat part of the field, was many yards in front of Simon and his daughter, and began to walk up the grassy hill, up to the back yard of the farm.

  Yoler was the first to make it up to the farm and looked at a sleeping Dicko who was outside and sitting on a deck chair, head lowered and snoring heavily, like a hog with asthma.

  Yoler walked up to him and gave him a kick, making the guy jump to his feet. He looked at Yoler with confusion, and then looked around the area, rubbing his eyes and beginning to groan.

  “What’s going on?” he asked with panic. “Anything wrong?”

  “Some guard you are, Dicky Boy,” Yoler scoffed and wiped her fringe away from her eyes. “Useless prick.”

  “It’s all under control,” said Dicko with a wide smile. “I’m a light sleeper anyway.”

  “You’re bloody hopeless.”

  “So you don’t want to spend time with me tonight then?” he snickered.

  “I suppose it would kill a minute or two.”

  “Below the belt,” Dicko laughed, and then turned to his left to see that Simon and Imelda had arrived.

  “Everything alright?” Simon asked Dicko, once he and Imelda had finally cleared the hill and were now at the back of the farm. “No trouble?”

  “Went like a dream,” Dicko snickered and flashed Yoler a look. Simon understood that it was a private joke between the pair of them and decided not to ask any further questions. He went inside the house with Imelda and the pair of them grabbed a drink of water.

  Simon stared at his little girl and could see that her face was sombre. He placed his hands on her plump cheek and asked if she was okay.

  She nodded, but unconvincingly, and gave her daddy a small smile. “I’m a little bit tired after all the walking.”

  “Fancy an early night?”

  She nodded and took a step forward and wrapped her arms around Simon’s waist. She put the side of her head against Simon’s stomach and released a heavy sigh.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked her. It was a stupid question. Everything was wrong.

  “I want a cuddle.”

  “Why?”

  She sighed, “Because I need it.”

  They hugged for a minute and once they broke away, Imelda announced that she was going upstairs for a lie down.

  “You want me to come up with you?” Simon asked.

  She shook her head. “I’d like to be on my own, daddy, if that’s okay?”

  “Of course.” He leaned over and kissed her on the top of her head. “See you in a bit.”

  He watched her as she left the living room to go upstairs, and then headed for the kitchen. Simon stepped outside and saw Yoler and Dicko sitting down and chatting. Simon remained standing up.

  Yoler turned to Simon and said, “I was just telling Dicky Boy about that Donald fellow. What a head banger he was.”

  Simon agreed and said, “He’s rather highly strung.”

  “He should be.” Yoler smiled.

  “What do you think to his ... story?” Yoler asked Simon. “Load of crap, if you ask me.”

  “I don’t know.” Simon rubbed his face with both hands. “I’m not sure anybody knows for certain what really happened during Stage Two.”

  “I was thinking about the situation at the visitor centre,” Dicko said.

  “Let’s not go through this again, please,” Simon sighed and shook his head.

  “I’m not talking about you fleeing; I’m talking about those guys mentioning that Orson.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Take each day as it comes.” Simon looked over to Dicko and could see him staring into space, lost in thought.

  “You okay over there?” Simon asked and put his hands in his pockets.

  Dicko smiled and nodded the once. “Just thinking about … old friends.”

  “Oh?” Simon was unsure whether to continue the conversation.

  “Dead friends?” Yoler asked bluntly.

  Simon opened his mouth, about to reprimand Yoler for such a harsh and unsympathetic question, but Dicko held up his hand to Simon and told him it was okay.

  “I’m not sure. They were alive when I left them,” Dicko said with a smile. “I hope not.”

  “What about you?” Dicko asked Simon. “I’ve only been told snippets about what you’ve been through...”

  “That’s rich coming from Mr Secretive over there,” Simon nodded over to Dicko and laughed.

  “I’m not much of a storyteller.”

  Simon puffed out a breath and looked at Dicko. He smiled thinly and decided to speak. “When we were awash with the Canavars,” he began, “we stayed hidden and did everything the media told us. Then when the bombs fell we hid under the stairs, in a cupboard.”

  “Coming from a village, I never heard any bombs fall,” Dicko announced.

  “And then?” Yoler tried to hurry Simon’s story along.

  Simon told them that his family lived in their attic once the bombs had stopped falling, and a gang of people broke into their home and raided the place, took what they had left, which wasn’t much. He told them that their car was still on the drive.

  In the first days of Stage One he was convinced that thugs would arrive, so he siphoned his car and took the wheels off the vehicle. The car sat on a pile of bricks, a pile for each wheel. They eventually left in the vehicle, but didn’t get far. He told them that he had turned a corner and crashed into a hedge, and then was surrounded by the dead. He gave them the shortened version and told them that he and Imelda escaped, but his wife and son didn’t.

  “I’m sorry this happened to you,” Yoler said. “It must have been horrific.”

  “It was,” Simon smiled thinly. “It is.”

  “At least you have somebody left,” said Dicko. “She’s a cracking girl, your Imelda.”

  “Thanks, mate. She’s all I have left.” Simon excused himself and told the pair of them that he was going to go upstairs and check on her.

  He reached the landing and felt the room spin. His chest tightened and his breathing became shallower. He decided to go into the bathroom first and sat on the toilet with his head in his hands. “Not again,” he moaned. “What’s wrong with me?”

  He lifted his head up and held out his hands in front of him. They were juddering, and Simon Washington was concerned this time that he was about to have a heart attack. “Please. Not now.”

  He sat up, placed his hands on his thighs and tried to take control of his breathing.

  “Not today,” he gasped. “Next year. If it has to happen ... then next year.”

  He stood to his feet and made slow steps to the bedroom where he and his daughter slept. He walked in and cracked a smile when he saw her sleeping. She had a hold of the cuddly toy that was found, Lambie, and almost slept with a smile on her face. Simon wasn’t doing the night duty so decided that an early night wouldn’t harm him.

  He was going to inform Yoler and Dicko that he was turning in, but couldn’t be bothered to go back downstairs. They’d eventually work it out for themselves, he thought.

  He kicked his boots off and lay next to his daughter. He lifted his arm up and gave his armpits a quick sniff. Maybe tomorrow he’d go back to the pond and wash the clothes.

  He felt his carotid artery and then put his hand over his heart. “Stay strong, you little bugger.”

  He closed his eyes and hoped for a long sleep. He also hoped that he wouldn’t die in his sleep fro
m heart failure.

  *

  Dicko looked to the ceiling of where he was standing, in the kitchen, and was certain that father and daughter were now settled. He took a swig of water from one of the jars and placed the palms of his hands flat on the sideboard. He was leaning with his head bowed and his arms straightened to keep him up as support. He took in a few deep breaths and tried to cool his face down. The face of his wife projected in his mind and he suddenly jumped when he could feel arms wrapping around his waist.

  He didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to. He knew it was Yoler Sanders.

  She groaned, “Are you up for it, or what?”

  Dicko put on a brave face and cleared his throat. “Of course.”

  Yoler released her arms and Dicko turned around, now facing the gorgeous woman that he could never attract back in the old world.

  The two of them stood kissing in the kitchen, with the window behind them, but Yoler could feel that Dicko’s response was hardly full of passion.

  She broke away gently, developed a small smile and asked him what was wrong.

  “I’m not sure,” was his vague answer.

  “If this is about the first, and the last time, we did it, it’s okay. I still enjoyed it.”

  “I just couldn’t...” Dicko was struggling for words. “I couldn’t finish.”

  “You went soft.” Yoler tried to lighten the mood and added further with a snicker, “It happens to a lot of guys your age. Maybe, next time we go out on a run, we’ll try and pick up some viagra from a chemist or something.”

  “I’m glad you think it’s funny.” Dicko didn’t look impressed with Yoler’s ribbing.

  “Come on, Dicky Boy.” She gave him a playful nudge. “I’m just pulling your pisser.”

  Dicko gazed at Yoler and then dropped his head. She could see he was embarrassed and asked him what was wrong.

  He began, “What happened the other night, between us...”

  “Yes?”

  “That was my first time since...” He couldn’t find the words and grunted, “I’ve only ever been with one woman before.”

  Yoler felt terrible right away and placed her hands on Dicko’s shoulders and told him it was okay. She could see he was getting upset. He tried to shrug her away because the attention he was receiving was making him worse.

  “It’s okay.” She leaned in, trying to hug the man, but he gently pushed her away.

  “Leave me for a minute, will you?”

  Yoler nodded and went back into the living room, and began to sing Sexy Sadie. Once Yoler was out of the room, Dicko put his right hand over his mouth and nose, and began to sob. He tried to be as quiet as he could, knowing that Yoler was in the next room and that Simon and Imelda were upstairs, but covering his mouth and nose, his way of suppressing the noise he was making, didn’t work very well.

  After a couple of minutes, Dicko began to calm down and wiped his beard that had been dampened by the tears that had fallen from his eyes, and blew a breath out. He could feel his temperature cooling down, and he could sense that Yoler was hanging around near the doorframe of the living room, wondering if he was okay.

  He walked inside and was greeted with a smiling Yoler. She was sitting on the armchair and asked if he was okay now.

  Dicko said yes and the pair of them sat down. Half an hour later the pair of them made love.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Next Day

  Simon opened his sticky eyes and turned his head to the side. Before lying on the bed, he had forgotten to draw the curtains. He could see from where he was lying that dawn was breaking. It was the start of a brand new day and Simon guessed that it was around four in the morning. He heard moaning to the side of him and could see that Imelda was beginning to wake up.

  He sat up and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. A twinge of pain in his mouth made him wince. Toothache. There were many things that he missed and took for granted in the old world, like music, online shopping, television ... many things, but a dentist wasn’t one of them. He thought about having to extract the tooth out himself. It could be worse, he thought. It could be appendicitis. Then he’d be fucked.

  Simon rubbed his mouth, hoping the discomfort was going to pass, and stood to his feet. Fully dressed from the night before, he walked around the room. Maybe he should get up now, he thought. He could give Yoler or Dicko a chance to turn in early.

  He stopped walking when he heard voices coming from downstairs, but it didn’t sound like the voices of Simon and Yoler.

  Simon put his boots back on and took the knife from the side table and placed it into his pocket. He left the bedroom and went onto the landing, where the voices could be heard clearer. He sat on the top step and listened to what was being said. A scuffle broke out, followed by more raised voices, and then silence.

  “Right,” a man’s voice bellowed; a voice that Simon didn’t recognise, “now that we’ve all calmed down, I’m gonna ask you two a few questions.”

  It sounded to Simon that these impostors were in control. He didn’t know how they were in control. He couldn’t see. Were there many of them? Or were Dicko and Yoler overpowered by them? Or did one of them have a gun? Surely if one of them had a gun then nobody would dare start a scuffle.

  “Where’s the other prick?” another man growled.

  Simon screwed his eyes with confusion. Other prick? How do they know someone else is here?

  “There is no one else here,” Simon heard Dicko saying from the ground floor.

  “The shitebag that ran off,” the man yelled. “Where is he?”

  As soon as Simon heard this, he knew it was the people from the visitor centre.

  “Haven’t seen him since he ran away,” said Dicko.

  “Bollocks! We saw that you were both in the car when you knocked our pal down.”

  “I’m telling you,” protested Dicko, “he’s gone.”

  “Then you don’t mind if I take a look upstairs then, do you?”

  Simon Washington felt his limbs shake with panic and was unsure what to do. Simon went into his bedroom, stopped moving and took a peep at his little girl who was fast asleep. He stepped over to her and gave Imelda a quick shake. “Babe,” he said frantically. “Babe, wake up.”

  Imelda moaned, stretched and began to yawn. Simon grabbed her hand and urged her to get off the bed and stand next to her daddy, startling the girl.

  “Is it morning?” she yawned.

  “We might be in danger.”

  “What?”

  “I know it sounds strange, but we could be in trouble.”

  “Daddy, what’s going on?”

  “Look, don’t panic.”

  “Panic?”

  “There’re some people in the house. We need to hide.”

  “People? What kind of people?”

  “Bad ones.”

  The sound of footsteps could be heard creeping up the stairs. Simon looked at Imelda and said, “You, in the cupboard. I’ll get under the bed.”

  “But daddy...”

  “Just do it.”

  Imelda stepped inside the clothes cupboard, and Simon shut her in before crawling underneath the bed. He could hear the individual, probably a man, walking across the landing and then trying the doors. Theirs was next.

  Simon held his breath, heart racing, and waited for the door to be tried. He didn’t have to wait long.

  The door opened and the first thing, and pretty much the only thing, that Simon could see was the brown muddy boots of one of the intruders. He held his breath as the boots slowly went to the left side of the bed, Simon’s eyes following. The boots then walked around the bed, going by the cupboard, and went to the right side of the bed. Simon released a long and quiet breath out and then sucked another one in. The boots stopped at the foot of the bed, inches away from Simon’s head.

  Simon had no idea how long the person had stood for or why. It felt like hours. The boots then moved, making Simon gasp, and headed towards the cupboard.

&
nbsp; As soon as the person opened the cupboard, Simon crawled out from under the bed and said, “Okay, okay.”

  Imelda released a scream as Simon stood to his feet. He held both hands up and said, “Don’t you touch her.”

  Simon then looked over to Imelda and beckoned her over. He recognised the man from the visitor centre and could see he was holding a knife. He gazed at Simon’s pockets and pointed at his right one.

  “I’ll be taking that,” the man said.

  Simon slowly reached into his pocket and threw the knife by the man’s feet.

  The man with the grey hair and beard smiled, picked the knife up and opened the bedroom door wider. “The pair of you, downstairs.”

  Simon felt Imelda’s warm silky hand grab his, and father and daughter went downstairs with the intruder behind them.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Simon and Imelda entered the living room and could see Yoler and Dicko sitting on the couch with their hands on their lap. Simon stood next to them, with his little girl standing behind. The man with the grey hair went over and stood next to his two other companions, put his knife away and pulled out a machete from his belt that Simon had never noticed before when they were upstairs.

  It was the same three people from the visitor centre. Simon and Dicko didn’t know the names of the men, but they knew that the female was called Clare, because she had introduced herself when they first met.

  The female told Simon to pass whatever weapon he had over. Simon looked at Dicko, and Dicko nodded at Simon. “Me and Yoler have handed ours over.”

  Simon huffed, “I’ve already given it to him.” Simon pointed over at the man with the grey beard and patted his pockets, showing the intruders that he wasn’t carrying, not anymore.

  Simon did as he was told and remained standing by the couch with Imelda behind him.

  “It took a while to find you folk,” Grey Beard cackled. “And yet here you are, in a farmhouse and fully exposed. Not great thinking. Most people opt to find an abandoned house or stay in the woods, but you folk...”

  “We have everything we need here,” Dicko said. “Why live in the woods and live off berries? When winter comes...”