by Ian Woodhead
Chapter Sixteen
He flicked the two shards of pottery off his open palm, they both landed in the deep pile carpet next to his chair. Marcus saw nothing else in the apartment amiss, apart from his missing girlfriend.
She had gone, either left or taken. Marcus had searched the apartment twice; he’d even checked under the bed and gone through every cupboard large enough to hold a body.
“She’s not a body,” he said, shivering. “Don’t make her out to be dead already.”
The woman wasn’t in here; that, he did know. Marcus gazed at the shattered cup; it suggested to him that she’d been taken. No, that didn’t make sense either. The dead things didn’t take people, they ate them.
“Can you see any blood? No, you can’t so she hasn’t been fucking kidnapped. Come on, Marcus think. She can’t be far.”
He knew Linda, she wouldn’t open the door to a stranger, hell, there were times when she wouldn’t open the door to him. Marcus looked at his chair; he turned and collapsed into it, wishing he could go back in time to just a few hours before any of this nightmare started.
She may have opened a door to a stranger; she’d have seen the carnage in the corridors herself.
Marcus turned and collapsed into his chair, plenty of folk had opened their doors to him earlier. Of all the people he expected to be safe from this disaster, Craig placed Linda right at the top of that list. He couldn’t remember the last time she left the apartment.
“You were betting on it.”
Oh Christ, he was. The only reason he took his time to help those other people was because he thought she’d be safe.
“And look where that fucking got you. What did you achieve for all your charitable deeds?”
He knew one thing for certain, if Marcus ever bumped into that spineless turd again, he’d shove that baton of his right up his arse then pull his head off. As soon as that door opened, he just knew something was amiss with that little man. His greasy smile and piggy eyes had told him immediately that this was a person who couldn’t be trusted.
“I should have listened to my inner voice.”
Marcus jumped out of the chair, feeling guilty for sitting in it in the first place. He needed to search for Linda, and then find the nearest fire exit and get the hell out of here.
She couldn’t have got that far. If the girl wasn’t in here then she must be in another apartment, he’d just have to search the rooms until he found her. Marcus then smiled, of course! There’s only one apartment she could have gone to. Linda will be inside the big-tittted blonde’s apartment, routing through all her stuff. It made sense, she been obsessing over her for days now.
Linda would probably be going through her underwear drawer whilst mumbling and calling the woman a loose tart. Marcus hurried over to the door, he wouldn’t mind doing that himself; come to think of it, he rather be going through the underwear that the blonde currently wore.
“Get a fucking grip, lad.”
He shook his head to purge his lusty thoughts then grabbed the door handle, “Wait a minute,” he muttered.” Marcus rushed into the kitchen and took Linda’s carving knife out of the wooden block; suitably weaponed up, he ran back into the living room. Marcus gazed through the spy hole to ensure the corridor was still clear before pulling open the door.
Marcus hadn’t paid much attention to the state of the corridor outside his apartment when he had first rushed in earlier, he’d been too concerned with Linda’s well being. He stood between the two walls and gaped at the crimson fluid sprayed across the walls. The stuff was everywhere.
“I wonder where the corpse went.”
He or she just had to be dead; nobody could lose a full bucket of blood and still live. The image of one of those fuckers draining Linda’s blood rose to the front of his mind.
“No way, that couldn’t have happened. She’s far too smart to let a zombie take a chunk of meat out of her.”
Despite the comforting words, he still couldn’t shake the image of his wife falling to the floor, watching all her blood seep into the carpet, getting weaker and weaker as each moment passed, and then Linda getting back up and joining the other shuffling dead in search of more victims.
“No, it’s not her blood.”
He jumped over the wet carpet and padded over to the blonde’s apartment, wondering if he should knock first. He giggled, how typically British, the apocalypse had arrived and he’s still thinking of his manners.
He grabbed the handle then paused, “What if it’s locked?” Why was he asking himself stupid questions? “Then Linda won’t be in there, you dork, you go to the next apartment.”
Craig saw that the door to the next apartment was wide open. He moved away from the blonde’s door and took a quick peek inside, sighing at the mess. It looked as through a whirlwind had gone through the apartment. Everything was smashed up. The broken furniture was drenched in blood. The stuff was everywhere. Marcus guessed that one of the occupants must have turned and attacked the other one. He shivered, trying not to imagine what terror the unchanged one must have gone through before perishing. He looked at the other closed doors along the corridor, each most probably had its own horror story to tell.
“Linda, are you in there?”
No, he didn’t think they would be in the smashed up one. Marcus turned his attention back to the blonde’s apartment. He grabbed the handle and pushed it down, not surprised when the door swung open.
The faint scent of old perfume tickled his nose as Craig entered, and there was something else too; he thought it was incense. It reminded him of walking into one of those hippy shops that sold lentils and bongs, probably where Bonzo buys his clothes.
He swallowed, wishing he hadn’t brought up the memory of his dead friend. “I’m sorry, mate.”
This room didn’t tell a tale of horror, the place was unbelievably neat and tidy; did the woman have OCD issues?
“Linda?”
He sighed, sensing that the woman wasn’t in here either. Still, now that he was inside the apartment, there was no harm in double-checking. He noticed that the layout was the same as theirs, except this apartment had a sense of class and style to it. There was a drinks cabinet in the corner of the room, and he walked past it, fighting the temptation to pour himself a large drink. After what he’d been through tonight, if he started, he didn’t think he’d be able to stop.
Craig entered the kitchen, wondering where the owner had gone. There seemed to be little point in checking the bedroom, Craig leaned against back against the kitchen wall; from where he stood, he saw the room was empty. There was nobody here; the apartment was as empty as his was. Even so, he still had to check out the last room.
That feeling of dread, of helplessness, stole over him once more—why the hell could she just not have stayed put? She would have been safe in there. Walking out was like entering a cage of hungry tigers. Anyone with a sound mind would have known that.
A bitter laugh escaped his mouth, “Come on, man, she hasn’t had a sound mind since her mother died.” Marcus hurried into the bedroom, eager to get this finished.
What he did see shocked him to the core. The walls were covered in grotesque pictures, and he brushed his hand across one of them, feeling the canvas; even the touch of the paint made him feel dirty. Every perversion known to man had been painted, even some Marcus didn’t know; he wasn’t sure what was the worst, the fact that she had them proudly displayed on her bedroom wall, or that somebody had actually painted these vile images in the first place.
This was just too weird for words, she wasn’t in here; he’d check the next apartment.
Marcus turned around and saw a shadow on the floor; he ran to the door and saw the back of his girlfriend in the kitchen.
“Linda, where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
She slowly turned around, her lifeless doll-like eyes bearing down on him, and she began to moan, sounding like a hungry bear. When Marcus spotted the chunk of meat missing fro
m her hand, he moaned too, knowing that she’d become like the others. Linda staggered towards him and he stumbled back.
“Please, Linda, no. Come on, lass, it’s me, it’s Marcus.”
He saw no recognition in her eyes, it was like looking into a set of glass eyes. Marcus crouched and ran at her, he grabbed the woman’s waist and swung her round then pushed her backwards. Linda fell through into the bedroom. He rushed over and closed the bedroom door. He then padded over to the outer door, he couldn’t kill her nor could he allow her to kill herself.
“I’m sorry about this,” he murmured.
Chapter Seventeen
They both sat together on the bench at the far side of the room, conversing in low tones. Even if they had stayed silent, Alex would know they were there. Her eyes were closed but that didn’t matter, not now; her senses had enhanced; it was almost as if she was floating directly above them, the sensation was strange but not unpleasant. Alex now regarded those orbs as just a complementary aid, just window dressing, really.
Vincent’s heart beat faster than Christopher’s did. That one had regrets, or was it guilt? Christopher had no cares, he just wanted to see what would happen to her; he viewed her corpse with scientific curiosity. Alex didn’t care about their feelings. She still needed one of them; the other would be her first meal.
It amused Alex to witness both men had covered their bodies, as if watching their mistress die whilst naked was somehow offensive. They should be wearing suits, preferably black, but she couldn’t sense what they wore. Her new ability did not provide that detail, perhaps she shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss her already established senses so quickly.
“Is she really dead?”
Christopher shrugged his broad shoulders, his heart rate speeded up a notch. She didn’t believe that her death had been part of Christopher’s plan, but it would be interesting to see how he adapts to his plan’s modification. He was the instigator, the strong one; Alex was unsure whether that ability would be useful to her now.
“I don’t know, Vincent. Why do you keep asking me these stupid questions? I’m as much in the dark as you are.” The man laughed, “And we’re as much in the dark as she was.”
Her need to eat could wait a little longer; Alex would allow fate to choose which of her food bags would enter her body. She desired more knowledge.
That vile muck had transformed her into a monster. Looking back, she wasn’t that far from becoming one in her own way. Alex really had been a pathetic, deluded woman, if she hadn’t have been blessed with such a forceful personality, Alex predicted that she’d have probably ended up as a pissed up homeless old bag, spending her time shouting at traffic.
Christopher had been quite correct in his assessment, this phenomenon was no act of wrath from Alex’s Old Testament deity.
She pushed her new senses beyond the boundaries of the apartments. The human’s were dying in huge numbers, then rising to swell the ranks of the walking corpses. At this rate, come morning there wouldn’t be much food left for her. Alex felt another presence, somebody who’d gone through the same transformation. He was too busy fighting a small group of corpses to notice her intrusion; Alex moved away, not wishing her presence to distract him.
So, there were others just like her; she found that comforting. As their food diminished they may have to work together in order to eat. Alex turned her attention back to her present situation, the others could wait; besides, they had their own problems
As her senses passed back through the walls, she picked up the signature of another new group of creatures. The creature felt her penetrate its small body. It turned and hissed before clambering into a ventilation shaft. Alex learned enough to understand that she’d just encountered a credible threat. Alone, those things would be no match for her new strength, but they didn’t work alone. Now that she knew its mark, she could feel over thirty over creatures like that one. They would be a threat considering they were going after the same food source.
The hunger now became too insistent for her to ignore, and she opened her eyes. How sweet, both men were indeed dressed in a matching set of dark suits.
“I don’t think she’s going to get up. Look, don’t give me those sad eyes, it was an accident, okay? It’s time to move on, we both know the score out there. Those poor sheep out there are getting slaughtered. We are going to help them survive and slice up this area into two kingdoms. Those fuckers need two strong men to lead and look after them. Look, the bitch is dead. Vincent, are you listening to me?”
The man certainly wasn’t listening to her traitor, his wide, horrified eyes were looking at her.
She pushed the overturned bucket out of her way and got back on her feet, using the bed for support. Alex was far from weak—very far from it—she had never felt this vibrant. Her performance was for Christopher, she had to give him just one more chance to make amends. Would he take advantage of her feigned weakness?
Christopher stood up; Alex hid her smile, yes, he would. Oh, how sad, how tragic, at least for him. The man pulled out a machete from inside his jacket.
“Jesus, Chris! What the fuck are you doing?”
“Shut it,” he snarled.
Alex turned to face him, she spread her arms, “Okay then, you big, strong man, show me you have a pair.”
Christopher ran at her and thrust the blade deep into her chest. Alex saw the look of grief on Vincent’s face. She then grabbed the handle and slid the blade out of her body; there was very little blood and absolutely no pain. Alex tossed the instrument behind her and reached out for Christopher. The man should have ducked or leaped away, but he just stayed still.
“That’s impossible!” he cried.
Alex couldn’t agree with him more. As she circled his arm, a delicious thrill travelled along her spine; she feared that her restraint would crumble at any second when she made contact with his warm flesh.
“As you tried to mash up my heart, I think I’ll start with yours, or would you prefer me to much on your fingers and work my way up?”
Vincent stood up.
“Sit down, or you’ll be next!”
She nodded with satisfaction as he complied. Would she need more than one of her traitorous colleagues to refresh her? The question fled when she noticed a flash of silver and sudden darkness.
The man was no longer in her grasp. Alex shook away the dizziness, then watched in astonishment as Christopher ran for the apartment door. The bastard had hit her in the face with the empty bucket. There was still no pain, only astonishment.
Alex raced after him, and she heard him mumbling and gibbering as he struggled with the door handle. It pleased Alex to note that Vincent was still obeying her command. She grabbed Christopher’s hair and dragged the crying man back towards the bed. Alex pushed the corpse off, lifted Christopher up, and slammed him down. His heartbeat now raced like a terrified rat. Alex groaned, she couldn’t hold this back intense urge any longer. She brought her head down and bit into the side of his neck.
His hot blood filled her mouth to overflowing. She came up for air then slammed her fist into the man’s chest, ripping through his skin and shattering his ribs. Her eager fingers found his beating heart. The wet, warm flesh caressed her skin. Alex wrapped her hand around his organ and squeezed, shouting in ecstasy as crushed tissue flowed through the gaps in her fingers like warm bread dough.
Alex removed her hand before taking another sip from the neck wound. She then stood up straight and greedily licked the mess off her hand. After she’d cleaned her skin, Alex then looked over to the sobbing man. “So, Vincent, now I have to deal with your treachery.”
He fell to his knees, “Please, mistress, have mercy. It was the sight of your marvellous body coupled with The Reckoning. Just for a moment, I would have literally done anything so I could make love to you.”
She approached his shaking body, “Look at me, Vincent.” The man immediately lifted his head and gazed into her eyes. She nodded. “The man is dead and yet you sti
ll defend him. He talked you into this, did he not?”
He sighed, “Yes,” he whispered. Tears rolled down his cheeks.
Alex put her hand under his chin and Vincent flinched. “Don’t be afraid, my sweet, I won’t hurt you.” She pulled him to his feet. “I still need a companion.”
He looked straight at her; she stroked the man’s cheeks, wondering how hard it will be for her to stop herself from slaughtering this doe eyed man.
“Does that mean we can…?”
“Yes, I’m still a woman, Vincent, and I do have needs other than feeding.” She turned back to her kill. “You have better change while I dine, and you just had better make sure the clothes you choose are waterproof.”
Chapter Eighteen
He placed another Lego brick on the model, sighed, then pulled it off; this was so fecking annoying. Wayne Galthen just couldn’t find the correct piece to place on the model. If he carried on like this, he’d end up completely fecking ruining his model. Wayne pulled the plastic piece off and threw it back in the box. The white strip landed in the blue compartment, he was so annoyed; the man just left it in there.
There were still a couple of cans left in the fridge; he’d been saving them for when he’d finished his work of art. Wayne got off the dining chair and walked into the kitchen. It was no good, he’d have to have at least one of them now; oh, this was too depressing.
Wayne took out one of the lager cans, shut the fridge door, then glanced over to the PC monitor in the living room. He could have wept. Those vile black words were still plastered across the screen. This was so not fair! How could his internet not be working? Why boot him in the cock by displaying ‘’This game is no longer online’ across his fecking monitor?
The nearly completed two-foot Lego model of the starship from Blake’s 7 laid across his kitchen table; he was so mad, Wayne could easily bring his fist down upon one of the three engines.
The two loves of Wayne’s life had both conspired against him tonight.