Dead Bones - Six Pack. The Ultimate Zombie Collection

by Ian Woodhead

  Marlene saw Bernard calling her over, “Will you be okay here for a minute?”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  She served another customer then squeezed past him. She was impressed. He wasn’t lying when he said he could do bar work in his sleep. “Why didn’t you tell us that you’d served behind a bar before?”

  He winked at her, “I was saving that piece of news for a day like this,”

  Marlene grinned to herself, the sly little monkey. The lad wasn’t as green as he was cabbage looking after all.

  As she approached Bernard’s table, the coach driver stood up and shook her boss’s hand. He looked her up and down, pausing when he got to chest level. He winked then made his way over to the bar. Jesus, Marlene felt like he’d just mentally raped her. She took an instant dislike to the man, what a creep. Was he really the coach driver? He must be, she couldn’t think of any other reason why he’d wear that silly hat. The man looked like an old-fashioned milkman or a bus conductor. He looked like a prat.

  Marlene watched him push through the crowd to get to the front of the bar. She hoped that Thomas would ignore him. She shook her head and placed both hands on the wooden table, suddenly realising that they hadn’t put out the beer mats.

  “Can this not wait, boss? We’re swamped at the bar.”

  She knew that she was pushing her luck by giving him the attitude but after what he’d put her through tonight, Marlene couldn’t really give a shit. It’s not like he could sack her, and even if he did try that one on, one anonymous phone call to the police would soon clip his wings.

  Bernard actually smiled at her. “Don’t you worry about the bar, sweetheart. It looks to me that Thomas has everything covered. Now please, take a seat.”

  Marlene sat down, more in shock than anything else. Bernard had never referred to her as sweetheart in all the years she’d worked for him. She wondered if he’d just been given a personality transplant; more than likely, he was up to something.

  “I want your honest opinion…what do you think of that coach driver?”

  She hadn’t expected to be asked that question. “Well my first impression is that he’s a bit of a dickhead, he reminds me of Lester but just not as creepy. That stupid hat makes him look like a milkman.”

  Bernard laughed, “I can see him running down the street holding a broken milk bottle in each hand and shouting for Mr. Grimsdale.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Nothing, forget it. It’s from a film from before your time. I agree, the man is a complete arse, but I still want you to keep him sweet for me tonight.”

  Marlene turned and watched the man give Thomas a hard time.

  “Look, Marlene, it’s not like I’m asking you to sleep with him, just keep him happy that’s all.”

  He reached across the table and grabbed both her hands, “Congratulations by the way,”

  She whipped her head back round, wanting to slide her hands out of his grip.

  “I’ve just made you up to club manager; you’ll receive a nice pay rise and we’ll be taking on a few more staff.”

  “What are you talking about? The club is going broke remember? Or have you forgotten your little speech earlier on? You know the one that almost gave poor Dominic a heart attack.”

  He giggled, “Yeah, I remember his frightened bunny look well. Well that milkman over there has just had his contract changed from one day to five days. See if you can guess where he’s going to bring the crumblies when the bingo shuts.”

  “Do you trust him?”

  “Of course I don’t bloody trust him, but that doesn’t matter, the percentage he receives from the takings will ensure that he keeps bringing them here. Come on Marlene, look happy for fuck’s sake. Pretty soon you won’t be able to move in here for zombies.

  Chapter Eleven

  With his index finger, Dean drew a smiley face in the condensation on the passenger car window.

  Very artistic Dean, a portrait to rival Da Vinci himself.

  He turned his head and grinned at Talbot, “Thank you, does it not bother you though that we’ll probably be the last generation who knows who Da Vinci was?” Talbot slowed down and stopped behind a white transit van when the traffic light changed to red. “No, of course it doesn’t bother me, why should it? Are you still getting twinges from your past life?”

  Dean shook his head.

  “Then why are you even asking?”

  “I’m still trying to get to grips with these new urges. One moment I’m flying through the clouds on a wave of ecstasy, and the next thing I know I feel like the whole world has just fallen on me.”

  Talbot followed the flow of traffic then smiled to himself before turning off onto a side road. He pulled in beside a late night supermarket and stopped the car.

  “You’ve just been re-born, Dean. Birth is always painful. Remember, we are the first of a new race, just look at it as a learning experience. Just go with the flow.”

  Just having you beside me helps, Talbot.

  Likewise…now, speaking of new experiences, how hungry are you?

  Dean looked over at the supermarket. “Not for anything they have in there.” He grinned, “Well, apart from that young man stacking the shelves with jars of coffee.”

  Talbot sighed, “Is that a yes or a no?”

  I’m ravenous, you know I am. Dean skimmed across the surface of his companion’s mind, he watched himself tear into the teenage boy who just chose that moment to wander past Dean’s house. It had been his first kill, his teeth had ripped though the veins and tendons in his neck before the boy could utter a single shriek. Dean had turned into a monster.

  Not a monster, you’re a predator.

  Dean pulled out and sat back, “You’re hungry too, Talbot. I could feel your deep gnawing ache. You watched me as I sated myself so I can understand you being ravenous, but why do I still feel it too?”

  “It’s the only characteristic that we share with the risen; the only difference is that we are able to control our urges.”

  Dean found his gaze drawn back to the shop assistant. He had begun to salivate, and his hand reached for the door handle, “I don’t think I can control it.”

  Talbot slapped his hand away. Focus on my thoughts, brother. That bag of meat isn’t going anywhere. I have brought you here for another reason.

  What other reason could there be? Dean pushed Talbot away and threw his body at the car door. He just had to get to that man. He could feel his teeth crunching through flesh and bone, the man would probably try to fight him— ooh God, he fucking hoped so— just hearing him squeal like a piglet would ignite his already inflamed desires.

  The car door flew open, but the seat belt still held him captive. He didn’t bother going for the release button, his hands were shaking too much, and he’d rip it in two instead. Dean grabbed the belt with both hands. Oh fuck, he could actually feel that shelf stacker’s blood running down his chin.

  The other man put his big hands on Dean’s shoulders; he could hear him screaming into his ear. Dean growled and told him to back off; nobody was going to stop him from taking his meal, not even Talbot.

  The man pulled him back into his seat and before Dean could react, Talbot thrust his bare arm against Dean’s snarling mouth. Dean sank his teeth into the flesh. His bite didn’t release crimson life fluid, the taste of mud and rotting cabbage filled his mouth instead.

  Dean’s blood lust cut off like a running bath tap.

  “What the bloody hell just happened?”

  Talbot removed his arm, they both watched as the bite marks filled up with a black gelatinous fluid, the stuff solidified in an instant then changed colour to match his skin tone.

  “Here endeth the first lesson, for both of us.”

  “Are you going to tell me or what?”

  Talbot pointed at the windscreen. “We just made first contact with our enemy.”

  He leaned forward and gazed into the black alleyway; he saw nothing aside from a couple of trade bins
and a pile of black bags stacked up beside them, the shadows consumed everything else.

  Close your eyes Dean and reach out with your mind.

  He did as instructed, but he found it difficult to focus ahead, Talbot’s own mind acted like a lodestone. Dean then felt Talbot take a deep breath and Dean’s mind flew towards that alleyway like a racehorse released from its cage. He gasped and recoiled back in revulsion, but he just wasn’t quick enough. Dean gagged when he felt as though his mouth had just been filled with maggot-infested meat.

  His eyes shot open and he slammed his back into the car seat. “Oh Jesus, I need a hot bath.”

  “They are not pleasant creatures.”

  “Those things somehow amplified my blood lust didn’t they?”

  Talbot nodded, “There’s only three of them down there. Can you imagine what a room full of those disgusting creatures could do to our minds?”

  Dean shivered, “Wait a minute, why were you not affected?”

  “I was affected. Jesus Christ, Dean, their ice-cold tendrils wrapped around my mind as soon as I opened up. The only reason that I had better control was because I knew that they were down there in the first place.”

  Dean could still sense those disgusting creatures trying to worm their way into his mind. He shuddered.

  “The humans pose no real threat to us, Dean. They are just a huge flock of stupid sheep. Our danger lies in that alley. Those things are a disease, a fucking plague.”

  He watched the three of them shamble out of the alley; he blinked and shook his head in confusion. There were four of them now. He saw a middle aged woman wearing a ripped and disheveled business suit emerge from behind one of the bins. She hurried to join the others.

  “They followed her in there a few minutes before we got here. Three has now become four— if we don’t stop them, those four will soon become a multitude.” He stared at Dean. “Even if we do stop them, it’s already too late; the outbreak is in full swing. Come morning, there’ll be hardly any sheep left in Bradford.”

  Dean could see fear in his companion’s slate grey eyes.

  You are right, my brother. I’m fucking terrified.

  “Well let’s make sure that at least these four won’t be able to recruit any more for their army.”

  I wonder how they’ll react when they see us.

  “Does it matter, Talbot? We’re stronger and faster than those dirty creatures. They have no defence against us; their bites won’t turn us into them.”

  Talbot opened his door, “Then let us experience lesson two together.”

  Dean grinned at him, “Oh yes, let’s.”

  As Dean opened his car door, Talbot tapped him on the shoulder.

  Don’t forget your seat belt, brother.

  The annoying scratching at the back of Dean’s mind increased in intensity when he stepped out of the car. The sensation now felt like a million fleas trying to bite their way through his scalp. It made concentration almost impossible. The group of four split into two. Business suit and a ragged youth wearing jeans and a black t-shirt lurched towards him. The mental attack eased a little.

  From the corner of his eye he saw Talbot stagger. All four must have concentrated on Dean when he stepped out of the car; it seemed that at least two of them had focused their attack on Talbot. He shook his head, trying to clear away the mental fog. There was only one way to clear the entropy. Dean launched himself at the woman. Instinct and blind hatred guided him, he snapped his fist back and then let it fly. Like a steel piston, his arm shot forward and smashed into the dead woman’s forehead. The bone shattered like a broken eggshell, the impact drove splinters of her skull deep into the woman’s brain. She dropped to the floor.

  The fog choking his mental capacity now transformed into a light morning mist. He felt the youth’s torn finger nails clawing off strips of flesh on his neck. He turned and grabbed the offending limb and twisted it back. He heard the boy’s clavicle crack. He let it go then formed a club with both hands and brought it down on the boy’s head. He dropped like a stone.

  Dean fell back against the car and took a deep breath. Talbot had dispatched the other two with equal ease. He could not help notice the look of worry on the man’s face. Why the worry? They didn’t stand a chance.

  “I agree brother, but that was only four against two. What will we do when they multiply?”

  He looked across to the supermarket. That man now had his horror struck face pressed against the window. “Let us discuss our problems over a meal.”

  Talbot turned around and gave the man a little wave. “That sounds like a most excellent idea.”

  Dean hurried round the front of the car. The man saw where he was heading and darted away from the window. “Talbot,” he shouted, “He’s getting away.”

  The other man just shrugged, “Where exactly is he going to go? I’ll tell you, he’ll hide in the toilets and try to call the police.”

  “How the hell do you know that?”

  Talbot stepped over the two bodies and joined Dean at the entrance. He grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Because, brother, I took it from his mind just before he buggered off. I think that the police will be swamped with phone calls tonight, so his bleating will go unheard. We can dine at our leisure.”

  Dean entered the shop, “That’s good because I can’t believe just how hungry I am.” He waited for Talbot to join him before he burst out laughing.

  Would you care to share?

  I hope he does get through to the cops, that way we won’t have to share the shopkeeper.

  Talbot sighed, “Forget what I said earlier, you are a fucking monster.” He rushed down the centre aisle and stopped beside a stack of sliced loaves. Can you not sense the man’s terrified thoughts yet?

  Dean joined him, he closed his eyes and opened his mind, and he felt the man only through Talbot. His eyes snapped open.

  “Fuck this,” he snapped, his frustration built up like steam in a pressure cooker. “It means nothing, it’s not like I won’t be able to find the bastard.”

  Dean pushed past the man and ran over to a solid looking door with the words ‘Staff only’ stenciled above the wire reinforced window.

  “Wait up, Dean,” said Talbot, running after him. “Look, maybe the ability is just dormant inside you; we’re both still unsure about just what we can do.”

  Dean spun around and glared at him. “Well, we’d better find out and pronto. According to you, the city will be overrun with the risen by dawn.”

  Talbot placed his arms on Dean’s shoulders. I feel your frustration brother, but please let’s eat first.

  “We talk now.”

  Dean watched the man bite back his temper, and he felt bad for pushing him.

  “Well, perhaps we should try and make a few more like us? “

  Dean nodded. “That makes sense. So more milk drinks?”

  Talbot shrugged. “We could try to emulate the risen and bite them or, if we find some women, we could try the procreation method.”

  “You mean sex?”

  Talbot grinned, “Why not? It’s another form of injection, and I know just where to go.”

  Dean nodded. “Okay brother, it’s a start. I’m sorry for snapping at you. It must be the bloodlust talking.”

  “No harm done, now get that door open; he’s trying to climb through the toilet window.”

  Dean pushed against the door, and the frame on the other side splintered. He then heard a quiet gasp coming from the next closed door in the corridor. Talbot tried to push past him, Dean shook his head— no way, this kill was his. He formed his hands into claws and kicked the door open. He allowed the man one glance of his fate before he leapt on him.

  Chapter Twelve

  The final batch of pies would be ready to leave the oven in another three minutes. Of course, in an ideal world, Dominic would then be getting ready to serve them out to his eager customers, but that wasn’t going to happen. The old folks wouldn’t be tucking into his delicious treats for at l
east another hour. His beautiful pies would be degraded by having the humiliating experience of being microwaved. Dominic made the devil’s horns at the bank of five white microwave ovens stood on the far table. If he had his way, those things would be screened off so the rest of his kitchen equipment wouldn’t be able to see the horrible, nasty things. Real chefs shouldn’t have to use those. Then again, real chefs didn’t have to work with Bernard.

  Dominic switched the oven off and placed the pies on the wire trays to cool down with the ones he cooked earlier.

  “May the great pie king forgive me for what I’ll have to do to you in just over one hour.” He whispered.

  The pie king would have an absolute fit if he found out about the piecrust as well. Mr. Crowley had bit of a pop at him last week regarding the mess the old folk were making with his piecrust. He ordered Dominic to ‘efing’ sort it.

  He made the mistake of trying to tell the philistine that the only other option would be use short crust pastry, but that would be like trying to boil lettuce. Bernard had unleashed that nasty little tongue of his. He’d told him to get off his high horse and to watch his lip. The man had also informed Dominic that he could have filled the pies with dog shit and the old bastards wouldn’t notice. He’d scurried away like a whipped hound while that nasty man was telling him that he was seriously thinking of re-evaluating his kitchen budget.

  He picked up his favourite knife and pricked one of the pies; the meaty odour that escaped really did smell divine.

  “That Beastly Bernard wouldn’t know a good pie if it hit him in the face.” he laughed, imagining the look of rage upon his face if that ever happened. “Of course the pie would just have to be filled with doggy poop first.”

  If his old cookery teacher could see what he’d done to her secret recipe, the poor woman would no doubt spin in her grave. He shivered. Dominic didn’t want to think about dead people tonight or the fact that he was an accessory to concealing a major crime from the police.