by Ian Woodhead
“I bet they’ll be having another orgy in there tonight,” she muttered, “the dirty animals.”
Marcus would give his right arm to go to an orgy. The temptation to knock on that blonde’s door on the pretext of borrowing a cup of sugar or something was incredible.
“Is there any chance of a cuppa, pet?”
“You know where the kettle is.”
“What about something to eat then?”
Linda didn’t even bother to reply. He would have to get something sorted about this pretty soon; the woman was doing his box in. He noticed the match had restarted and ran back to his chair. He’d have a word with his mate, Bonzo, later tonight. That bloke knew everything about birds. He’d be able to get her fixed up, Marcus was sure of it.
He settled back down, waiting for his team to jog onto the pitch. Marcus gave Linda one more appraising glance; it had been ages since he’d had a jump. It surprised him that his dick hadn’t dropped off from lack of use.
When he turned his head back, the picture on the telly abruptly turned black. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he growled. After a moment, a sea of static appeared. Marcus snatched up the remote control and changed the channel; he swore when all he got for his efforts was another view of static. Panic brewing, Marcus cycled through the other channels.
“I don’t believe this. Linda!” he shouted, “Where’s your iPhone?”
“Don’t know,” she replied, not moving.
“Are you fucking glued to that door? For crying out loud, woman, have you any idea how important this match is?”
“I told you, I don’t know. Besides, the battery will be dead anyway. It’s been ages since I’ve used it.”
If he’d set up his PC like he’d been promising himself to do for weeks, this wouldn’t have been a problem. He was used to watching football online when he used to live at home. To make matters worse, he’d left his bloody laptop in the boot of his car.
“This is bollocks,” he said. Marcus picked up his wallet from the coffee table and slid his shoes on. When he looked up, Marcus saw to his surprise that Linda had taken her eye off the spy hole. For the first time in weeks, he actually saw animation in her eyes.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Down to the bar,” Marcus took a step toward her, “Come on love, let’s go together, we’ll have a few drinks and get a takeaway, just like we used to. It’ll be a laugh.”
Her face set like concrete, “No way, I can’t leave. That bald creep will be coming out soon. I have to log the time.”
Marcus shook his head and pushed past her, “Whatever.” He muttered as he pulled open the door.
He turned, slammed the door shut, then, as an after thought, Marcus slapped the palm of his hand over the spy hole. He hoped to fuck that Bonzo would help him out, aside from painting over this bloody hole in the door, he hadn’t a clue what to do about his Linda.
Chapter Five
It just didn’t seem dignified for a grown man to emit such a high pitched noise. He sounded like a little doggie’s squeaky toy.
Alex studied Gavin’s quivering frame in the window’s reflection. His present conduct was far more disturbing than that pathetic noise that he kept making.
He took another swig from her now half-empty vodka bottle. Alex noted the dribbling alcohol soaking the man’s chin and forced herself to remain calm.
“Are you going to put that bottle down now, Gavin?”
She didn’t think he heard her, Gavin was too caught up in his own tragedy to pay attention to his mistress. The man lifted the bottle up once more; looking at the way he gripped the glass, she’d need a fucking crowbar to prise that out of his fingers.
This was so disappointing, of all the followers in her congregation, Alex thought that Gavin would be the one to be the least affected. He had no friends, his wife treated him like a pet, and he’d told Alex on numerous occasions that his mundane job just sucked away his will to live. The fact that he’d just fallen apart like a jenga tower on the first night of The Reckoning made her ask herself if she’d committed a grave mistake in relying on the man.
He squeaked again. The dog’s plaything metaphor seemed more than apt. Gavin did indeed look like he’d been chewed over by a large dog.
Admittedly, the sudden arrival of The Reckoning had caught her by surprise too. There was no advance warning; she was supposed to be God’s instrument, why had she not been forewarned? There was no doubt that Gavin’s stuttering words were true, she’d now seen the devastation herself from this very window. A few moments ago, a body clad in designer sports gear floated passed the apartment. It amused her to see a couple of the canal’s ducks sitting on the corpse’s back. Alex couldn’t be sure, but it may have been the same figure that she saw earlier.
Her heart sang out in glory when a middle-aged businessman ran past a parked van and suddenly found himself kissing the tarmac. Alex saw the pair of hands poking out from underneath the vehicle moments before the victim did. Alex mentally gave him eight points out of ten for the impressive struggle he put up just before he was pulled under. It was a pity that these windows were soundproof; she would have loved to hear his panicked shrieking bellowing out.
All the heathens will perish, the demon spawn will see to that. Alex needed to prepare; she needed her congregation. Alex slowly turned and gazed upon the wretched man before her holding that bottle like a drowning man clings to a life raft. Most of all, Alex needed her followers to be sober.
She strode over and snatched the bottle out of his hands. When Gavin reached for the bottle, moaning, she slapped his face, hoping the sudden pain would snap him out of it.
“You have disappointed me, Gavin. I’m beginning to doubt that you wish to be saved, that your mind has been corrupted by the heathens.”
She grabbed the back of his collar and dragged him over to the window.
“Look at that,” she said, pointing the bottle at the pool of blood spreading out from under the parked van. “The Reckoning is here, Gavin. The time has come for the heathen to perish. You need to decide whether your fate belongs to them or me.”
Alex dropped the man on the floor and strode over to her bed where she threw her suit and dug out her mobile phone from a pocket. She nodded when she saw there was no signal; she wasn’t too surprised at this development.
She shrugged off the crimson robe, her congregation needed the support of their leader. Alex needed to collect them, they wouldn’t be strong enough to make their way here. She watched the wretch crawl towards her, moaning like a scolded puppy. “No, Gavin. My affection is off limits for you. Your appalling behaviour had distressed me, you must redeem yourself.”
She placed the bottle on the dressing table, watching Gavin’s eyes follow the bottle. If Gavin had lived on another floor, she had doubts that he’d be able to make his way here. Synchronicity had chosen the man’s redemption.
“Go to the place of worship, Gavin, and prepare the tools of The Reckoning.” She allowed him to paw her naked breasts just for a moment; it may be the last time he did. She wiped the tears from his cheeks and smiled at the man. “Be sure, Gavin, that we are God’s soldiers. We will prevail. Now go, I shall join you presently.”
The man nodded, and reluctantly removed his hand from her warm flesh. It would be a real shame if he was to perish, but if it were to happen then it would be Gods will. Besides, the arduous journey through the mill’s corridors swarming with demonspawn hungry for hot human blood should at least help sober up the snivelling wretch.
“May I ask where you will be?” he said, reaching for the door handle.
Alex smiled, “I’m going to collect the rest of my inner circle.” She inwardly grinned at his reaction. Gavin did not get on with the other two. “The demonspawn need my guidance, just as you and my flock need me. The demonspawn have been sent to destroy the heathen. It is our duty to hasten their destruction.”
The door shut behind him. Alex took one look at that vodka bottle before pic
king it up and topping up her empty glass. She emptied the remaining contents down the sink. Perhaps it may not have been such a good idea to inform Gavin where she was going, he may take advantage and sneak back in here to finish the vodka. Alex shook her head and admonished herself for having such rebellious thoughts. She was harsh but also fair; Gavin deserved to make at least one slip, he’d make his way to the place of worship, Alex was sure of it. She looked at the door, then drained her glass.
When Alex first moved in, the Greenacre Rise apartment block was still relatively empty, probably due to the high prices the developers expected. This didn’t stop Alex from purchasing a secondary apartment two floors down from the one she’d already bought. The option to buy the apartments had only been authorised when Alex had stated just how much she was prepared to pay. She’d learnt a long time ago that cold, hard cash was the ultimate corrupter of the heathen’s principles. And the heathens who had transformed this decrepit mill into this den of middle class immorality didn’t have that many principles to begin with. For Alex, money was not a problem. Not only did she have a well-paid job, but her parents were very wealthy, who would do anything to help their only daughter.
She selected a set of clothes that were a dark colour and loose fitting, and didn’t expose any bare flesh. For protection, Alex selected a seven-inch stiletto blade. She wasn’t sure if the demonspawn would recognise their leader and she wasn’t going to take any chance. The hosts were only flesh, and soft tissue is easily damaged.
As she had no more followers on this floor, she decided to make her way to the top floor and work her way down. Mr. Hutchinson and Mr. Curtis would be the first of her followers to collect. Along with Gavin, those two made up her inner circle. Somehow, she doubted that their reaction to The Reckoning would be the same as her little man.
Alex opened her door and looked out into the corridor; she slowly grinned, thinking of how those two would have reacted if she’d knocked on their apartment doors, clad only in her robe. They’d have been on her like dogs in heat.
Chapter Six
His sister just sat in the edge of the canal, rocking back and forth. Craig didn’t have a clue what was wrong with her, but he did know this was far worse than just a blooming headache.
“How are you holding up, lass?” he asked. She offered him a weak smile. Craig pressed his hand against her forehead. Good lord! The poor girl was burning up. Stacey needed to see a doctor. He looked at the other two, busy removing debris from the blocked door. There was no way that they’d allow him and his sister to leave. If they hadn’t shown him those blooming pistols, he’d have ran off ages ago. He wandered if he ought to risk it anyway. As far as he knew, they may be just replicas. Even if they weren’t, Craig doubted that even they weren’t evil enough to shoot two fleeing kids in the back.
He took off his t-shirt and dipped it into the cold water, then placed the soaked clothing against her head.
Stacey sighed. “Thanks, Craig, that’s so much better.”
His t-shirt now stunk of diesel and rotting plants but he didn’t care as long as it did the job.
“I’m sorry about the smell.”
“It does pong a bit. Don’t worry, mum will get the smell out.” She reached out and put her trembling hand on his cheek, “I really don’t feel very well, Craig. Something’s going on inside my tummy. I think my bits are moving about.”
Craig did the only thing he could do and hugged her tight.
“I’m really scared.”
When the two pie eaters had found the door earlier, Green Trainers had ordered him to clear the bricks and wood away but soon had a change of mind when they discovered that he wasn’t strong enough.
He now saw that the door was just about clear now. He let go of his sister, shivered, and wandered over. Now that they’d cleared the door, hopefully they wouldn’t need them anymore.
“It’s Mr. Muscle,” said Green Trainers, smirking.
The other one just shook his head; he inserted the key and whooped when the key turned.
“I think my sister’s going to die,” he announced.
Green Trainers look at her then laughed aloud. “Fuck me, that’s a good one.” He shook his head. “I’ve already said, you two ain’t going nowhere. Now stop your fucking whining and give us a fucking help here. I don’t think this bloody door’s been open for decades.”
Craig swallowed down the frustration and fear. He’d get his own back. Craig would show them.
“For crying out loud, Ryan. Just how weak are you?”
Craig nodded to himself; so that’s his proper name. He logged that down at the back of his head then went back to Stacey.
“Come on, Stacey, it’s time to go.”
“Are we going home now?”
He shook his head, “No, not yet, we still have to help these two big idiots, remember? Just keep your head, we’ll be nice and warm very soon; don’t forget, I promised to get you some tablets too. After a few painkillers down your neck, you’ll feel tons better.”
She looked past Craig. “Maybe he’ll have some tablets.”
Craig followed her gaze. A lone man was approaching them. He grinned…at last, some help. His grin faded, when the man stumbled. There was something not quite right with him. He looked as if he’d had more than a pint or two.
“Looks like we’ve got company,” muttered Green Trainers.
Craig took a step back; so much for a rescue, he’d hoped that the two teletubbies would be too distracted to notice the man.
“Don’t even think of crying out for help,” said Ryan. He pushed past Craig and sauntered towards the stranger.
“He isn’t a man anymore,” whispered Stacey. “He’s bad, even badder than these two.” She stood up and ran to Craig. “We have to leave,” she said, taking his hand.
Craig watched the man show the stranger just what he had in his hand. Instead of the expected reaction of him turning tail and fleeing, the stranger just continued his drunken gait towards him.
Suddenly, the stranger staggered towards the big man, and even from where he stood, the stranger’s hungry moan was audible. For the first time the thought of zombie crept up into Craig’s mind, but he cast that ridiculous idea into his mental dustbin. Zombies weren’t real.
The big man placed his hands around the stranger’s neck and held him at arm’s length, he then swung the stranger over to the canal, then let go. He then booted him into the water.
Green Trainers looked up when the stranger splashed into the canal, “What the bloody hell is going on?” he shouted.
The other man just shrugged, “There was something not right with that bastard, the fucker even tried to bite me.”
Ryan put away his pistol then hurried over to the edge of the canal and gazed into the dark water. “I hope you drown, you fucking pisshead.”
Craig watched the water’s ripples slowly settle down, it was clear that the stranger had just suck to the bottom.
He joined Green Trainers who was still struggling with the door, “For fuck’s sake, haven’t you got this open yet?”
“Why the fuck did you push him into the canal? You should have just taken him out.”
The man stopped pulling the door and gazed at Green Trainers, “There really was something wrong with him, you know.”
“Yeah, you’ve already said.”
“No, I mean, really wrong. All his insides were hanging out; you could see his guts and everything, he looked like he’d just been run over by a fucking bus or something.”
“Are you sure you’re not the one who’s been dipping into the whiskey bottle, Laurence?”
“I know what I fucking saw,” he replied. “Don’t you think I wanted to take him out? Thing is, I left the shells at home. I didn’t really think we’d have to use the pieces.”
“You fucking dipstick.”
Stacey lightly tapped Craig on the shoulders, “That horrible man’s right, he wasn’t drunk. He’d died and come back to life.”
&nbs
p; “Don’t be silly,” he hissed. “That’s impossible.”
She looked over Craig’s shoulder, “No, he was dead, and so are those.”
Craig jerked up. What the hell was happening? There were dozens of people shambling towards them on both sides of the canal bank. Green Trainers had seen them too.
“Shit,” Green Trainers placed his back against the door and pushed. When the door finally began to move, he reached out and grabbed Stacy’s hand. “Come on, you.”
Craig followed them inside the dark room.
“Get that fucking door shut,” growled Ryan.
Craig did as he was told, then pulled his phone out of his pocket.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” said Green Trainers.
“Ringing the police, of course,” he replied. “Something is seriously out of sync here.”
Green Trainers snatched the phone out of his hands, then placed it in his jacket pocket. “You calling for the filth ain’t happening. We ain’t exactly model citizens are we, you dickhead? They’re probably just a bunch of druggies eyeballed on smack.”
Craig saw Ryan shake his head, “No, Laurence. That guy seriously shouldn’t have been able to walk.”
Craig didn’t know what scared him the most, those people outside the mill or that this muscle-bound thug was called Laurence.
“I don’t believe I’m hearing this,” said Laurence. “Are you getting cold feet as well?”
The other guy shook his head. “Of course I’m fucking not. I was just saying that’s all.”
“Yeah, well don’t. You know what will happen to us if we fail to deliver. Bernard expects results, not a bunch of stupid excuses.”
Ryan slowly nodded. “Well let’s get on with it then. Can you see the door?”
“Where’s your torch?”
Ryan gazed sheepishly at his colleague
“You fucking dork,” spat Laurence, you’ve left it at home.”
Ryan shrugged, “I thought you were bringing one.”