by Ian Woodhead
He nodded at the man, “I’m sorry about all those things I said about you earlier.” Craig turned and ran into the kitchen without turning around; he didn’t want Laurence to see the tears.
As soon as he closed the kitchen door, Craig heard the sound of apartment door splintering open followed by four rapid deafening shots. Had Laurence killed the freaky woman?
Craig whimpered when something heavy fell against the kitchen door.
“Search the place, see if there’s any more of them.”
Craig desperately looked around the tiny kitchen, looking for somewhere, anywhere to hide.
“What if they don’t want to come? He didn’t.”
“Then damage them,” replied the female voice. “I don’t want them dead.”
That voice was right behind the kitchen door; Craig dived under a table and placed a tablecloth over him.
“Wait!” The voice commanded, “Don’t go in that one, Vincent. I can sense dead minds in that room.”
He heard the kitchen door opening. Craig curled himself into a tight ball and pretended to be invisible.
“I can’t see anyone in here, mistress.”
The woman sighed, “Damnit, it’s just another one of those wall-climbers. Come on, Vincent, there’s nothing left on this level now.”
Was the other one still in here with him? Craig shivered, he didn’t want to get caught, and he certainly had no desire to end up thrown against a fucking wall. He held his breath, counted to ten, and just waited for someone to pull the cover off him. The kitchen door clicked shut. Craig snapped open his eyes, took a deep breath, and gently removed the tablecloth away from his head. There was nobody else in here, this kitchen was way too small to hide two people.
That torrent of tears that he’d managed to keep in check all night threatened to break through his now crumbling wall. That man’s constant ridicule and low-level bullying had actually helped him stay sane, and now, just like his sister, Laurence had gone.
“They may have only injured him.” He whispered. No, that was stupid; they wouldn’t leave him just wounded. “Then go take a look, you coward. They’ll be long gone by now.” Craig shook his head, feeling his tears soaking both cheeks. He wasn’t going anywhere, he’d had enough for one night, thank you very much. Craig would stay where he was and wait for all this to blow over. Everything would be back to normal in the morning.
Before he pulled the cloth back over his head, a strange noise found its way to his ears. It sounded a little like fingernail scraping against a wall. Craig looked over at the sink and watched as a ting piece of plaster fell off the wall and landed in the basin.
“What the hell?”
The noise increased, so did the amount of material falling of the wall. He almost screamed when a tiny dirt encrusted finger poked through the hole.
“Fuck! They’re in the cavity!”
He watched, whimpering as the hole increased in size and another two fingers appeared. Craig crawled out and raced to the door. He grabbed the handle and ran into the living room.
Laurence was slumped against the apartment door, if he hadn’t been dead before those bastards had left, he certainly was now. Craig still wasn’t alone. They must have opened the bedroom door before leaving. The occupants were crouched over Laurence’s body. A large male sat by Laurence’s feet, attempting to push the man’s intestines into his mouth. An old woman kneeled by the head she had two fingers pushed into his left eye socket.
He moaned aloud when the corpses slowly turned their heads, saw him and started to get up. Craig shrieked when Laurence began to move his legs. He picked up the implement that the bouncer had made for him and ran at the large male, screaming in fury. Craig swung the weapon into the corpse’s face, grunting at the thick meaty thud the weapon made when it connected with the dead man’s cheek. Craig ducked under the woman’s arms, side stepped the bouncer who was attempting to get up, and ran out of the door.
Chapter Twenty
Dennis peered around the corner and into the corridor, thankful that it was still devoid of any other movement. That was a bloody relief considering he’d been stupid enough to leave his baton with his new prize. He placed his ear against the wall, closed his eyes, and listened.
“None of those things close by either.”
Maybe his choice of words was a little harsh; He’d already checked out this section of unlocked doors and found it clear. He shouldn’t need his baton.
He clutched his ball of string and stepped out of the apartment. He was rather pleased with his find. A length of rope would have been more of a blessing, or even another washing line, but he didn’t think anyone else in the mill would have one of those.
After everything that he’d been through so far tonight, Dennis believed that he was getting the hang of this protect and survive practice. Of course, a complete disregard for anyone else’s lives was a major advantage.
Thinking about that caused him to pause. Perhaps he ought to forget his particular task and carry on looking for the mistress. He gazed down at his loins and sighed, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to go anywhere until he’d released the built up tension.
It had only been twenty or so minutes since he’d heard that distressed voice. Some woman had somehow managed to lock herself in her own bathroom. Dennis had tried to calm the pretty brunette down once he’d gotten her out. Well, he had to do something, the amount of noise coming out of that gob was enough to wake the dead. Dennis had smiled at his choice of words.
The bitch was having none of it; in the end, Dennis had to zap her, and she’d crumpled to the floor, her head narrowly missing the edge of a metal bookcase. He stopped and stared down at this attractive woman. He hadn’t really noticed just how pretty she was when her gob was going ten to the dozen, but now she could have been the poster girl for The Sleeping Beauty.
Dennis heart had begun to pound, thinking of what he’d be able to do to her. What a fantastic bonus; if she’d have kept her fool mouth shut, he’d have wandered right past her apartment without ever knowing. Well, as far as he was concerned, this was all her fault. She deserved everything she got and Dennis was going to make sure that she got a lot.
He’d already decided that the mistress wouldn’t let him keep her, so he’d have to get as much fun as he could out of her before leaving the noisy woman for the dead things. He couldn’t put her back in the bathroom, the lock was broken; he figured that it wouldn’t matter anyway. As soon as Dennis was ready to go, he’d just tie her to a radiator. The amount of noise that the silly bitch would make was bound to attract any number of those undead biting bastards.
The sound of groaning made him quicken his pace; oh bugger, the bitch was waking up already. Dennis had wanted to have her tied up before she had regained consciousness. He’d just have to zap her again, secure her, then wait a bit longer. Oh, this wasn’t fair. He really needed to spill his seed. Dennis had already had a go when the woman was out cold but it was no good, she was just too floppy, and it also felt a bit weird and pervy.
Damn his bad luck. Dennis ran into the apartment and saw her trying to sit up. He saw the bafflement etched upon her face and grabbed the baton off the coffee table; he could have screamed when he noticed that the bloody thing was as flat as a fart.
She watched him advance, not saying a word. Her confusion slipped off to display fear. Dennis felt a stirring in his trousers, which was unexpected; he wasn’t used to anyone being scared of him.
It would be ages before this thing charged up. He mentally shrugged. Dennis would just have to knock her out the old-fashioned way. He grinned and raised the baton; hell, it shouldn’t be that hard, after all, the woman was already terrified of him.
Before he could even get close, though, the woman leaped up, grabbed a metal candlestick holder off the shelf behind her and smacked it into the side of his face. He yelled out in more shock than pain; he tried to grab the woman as she ran past him but his hands just caught fresh air.
“That’s
not supposed to happen,” he muttered, rubbing his cheek. He took his hand away and saw a spot of blood on the palm. “Oh, now that is just not fair, the bitch has scarred me!”
Dennis ran after her; there was no way that he was going to let her get away with this. How dare she! He skidded to a halt outside the apartment, looking both ways and not seeing a sign of her.
“She can’t have gotten far. Come on, think like her, what would she do?” He wiped his cheek again; bloody hell, that hurt. He’d have to get something to put on that, he didn’t want it to get infected.
Dennis had already checked the apartment doors on this level, so she was still close by; the sound of the fire door at the end of the corridor had yet to reach his ears. He looked to the left toward the direction of the gym and the bar, and smiled. She’d go to the bar first. There was more chance finding the door unlocked.
“Are you in there, my sweet? Hiding and shaking and hoping big Dennis doesn’t find you?”
He passed the gym windows, looking in and seeing nobody. He didn’t bother trying the doors, he’d check that place out once he’d eliminated the bar from his search. It seemed like weeks since the mistress had admonished him for trying to escape into that vodka bottle, and he now believed that the old Dennis, the one who had fallen apart in front of his mistress, was long gone.
Of course he was, he was the new Dennis, the one who had not only survived but had, in fact, thrived in this brave new world. He licked his lips; despite that, he still wouldn’t mind a small drink. He checked the charge and smiled, there was just enough to lay her out. He’d forgotten the string but he should be able to find something in the bar; if not, he could always use his shoelaces.
“While she’s unconscious, you can celebrate with a cool beer.”
He stopped by the bar’s windows and peered inside. A smile slowly formed on his face when he saw her reaching over the pool table; he couldn’t help but stare, she really did have shapely legs. Dennis ran over to the door and quietly pushed it open, hoping the woman wouldn’t turn around. After the candlestick incident he had no desire to be on the receiving end of a pool cue.
His luck was in, she still had her back to him. Dennis then saw that they weren’t the only occupants. A dead thing was right behind the woman—how could she not sense it? Jesus! If that got her, then he could say goodbye to having his fantasies played out.
Dennis ran over, and the woman heard him alright; she turned, saw the corpse reaching for her face, and screamed. Dennis lunged forward and pushed the business end of his baton into the back of its neck. Surprisingly, it arched its back before collapsing. He just stood there, not believing that it had worked; he then looked at the woman, saw the pool cue in her hand, and braced for the impact, knowing that his baton was now flat again.
The woman moaned, dropped the cue and flung her arms around his neck.
“Oh, god, thank you, thank you.” She said.
What was she doing? Did this mean that the bitch no longer wanted to hit him? He couldn’t work out her behaviour at all, women were such strange animals. As far as he was concerned, it was better if they just stuck to simple tasks … and sex, of course.
Dennis carefully reached across and dropped his baton on the pool table then, as an experiment, he began to caress her back. “It’s okay,” he whispered, “you’re safe now.” Well, safe from the dead thing anyway.
“What’s happening?” She pulled away.
That annoyed him, he had been hoping to slide his hand up her blouse. He kept his face straight, keeping the anger at bay.
“Where is everyone and why did that man try to attack me? Come to think of it, I’m sure you tried to attack me as well, or did I imagine that bit?”
Dennis shook his head and hurried over to the bar. He ducked under the serving hatch, grabbed a couple of glasses, and filled them with vodka. “Here, get this down you, lady. It’ll help you relax.”
“I’ve seen you in here before, I think.”
He nodded, “I’m Dennis, by the way. I’m sorry if I scared you earlier. I didn’t mean to.” He pointed at the corpse behind her.
She turned around, looked at the man sprawled on the carpet, and whimpered.
“One of those things were chasing me,” he said, lying. “I thought you were one of them too.”
Would she see through his tissue thin lie? Dennis watched the colour in the woman’s face leave her. He guessed that she’d just discovered that the man on the floor was already dead before it tried to attack her. She hurried over and grabbed the glass in one shaking hand; she picked it up and drained the contents in one gulp.
She looked back, “How could he have even moved?” She asked. “I mean, all its insides have fallen out, that poor man is…”
“Yes, love, I know, he’s dead.” He refilled her glass. “The dead are walking about, walking about and eating the people who’re still alive.”
He put his hand over hers, “It’s okay, lady. I’ll keep you safe.”
The woman turned her head, Dennis smiled; she smiled back, then burst into tears. He was beginning to wonder if he should just zap the bitch, use her, then just go. This situation was getting way too complicated.
“You haven’t told me what your name is yet, lady.”
She looked at her now full glass, then gazed at Dennis. Her eyes were rather pretty, not the dazzling blue of his mistress but still, pleasant enough to stare at. Dennis wondered if he ought to smile again, could he risk it. He had no wish to watch her get all emotional again.
“I’m Helen.” She said.
When she leaned towards Dennis he managed to get quite a decent view of her cleavage. He’d already had a look and a couple of strokes when the woman was out, but there was nothing better than unobserved peeking. They weren’t as pronounced as the Mistress’s but even so, they were still a decent handful. He smiled—or even a good mouthful.
“What’s so funny?”
The more he thought about it, the more Dennis found that this Helen just paled in comparison to his beautiful mistress. Then again, the mistress wasn’t here and she was, and it did appear to him that Helen did like him.
“Do you like me?” A direct question had to be the best approach. If he was going to fuck her, then he needed to get the small talk out of the way as soon as possible.
“I’m sorry?” she replied, stumbling over her words. “I mean, I don’t even know you.”
Her whole body had tensed up, it looked like this Helen was about to run away. Maybe he was just misinterpreting her body signals. His wife used to complain about that numerous times in the past; she always told him that he never understood her. Then again, she was an idiot.
“I did save your life, plus I just poured you a drink.” He smiled again, she’d responded well to that the last time. Dennis decided that there really was nothing to worry about here, Helen was just playing hard to get, probably a little shy; after all, they had only just met.
Their relationship was still at the embryonic stage.
“You really do have beautiful breasts.”
Dennis was going to tell the woman that her eyes were beautiful, but he thought that the breast option was a better choice. He remembered telling that girl that her eyes were beautiful and she went mental with him.
She gasped, “Oh, my god! I know who you are now. Oh Christ! You’re that pervert that tried to touch up my daughter.”
The woman’s hands tightened around the glass. Dennis jumped to one side, just as she hurtled the glass at him. It smashed against the mirror behind him. She growled and started to climb over the bar.
Of all the woman he could meet, why the hell did it have to be that little cow’s mother? “Is her boyfriend called Dale?”
Helen stopped in mid climb. Dennis picked up his drink and took a sip, watching her head slowly nod. All her fury just disappeared. He sighed, so much for thinking that he and this silly woman could actually have something special. There was only one woman for him, he should have realised
that.
“I thought so. Well, he’s dead and so is your daughter.” He threw the vodka in her face and ran towards the door. Her wild moaning and shrieking was sweet music to his ears. Dennis wrenched open the door and ran out into the corridor.
It was only when he’d passed the gym when he realised that he’d forgotten his baton.
“Oh bugger!”
Dennis ran back and peered through the window; he saw her slumped against the bar, crying into her hands. Dennis then noticed the dead man on the floor had begun to move about. How annoying was that? The baton wasn’t as potent as he thought. It worked pretty good on live people but he reckoned that by now, there wouldn’t be that many left. The dead man crept closer to the weeping woman; he did think of banging on the window but then again, why should he?
She didn’t do him any favours. Dennis hurried off down the corridor, listening to the woman’s screams abruptly go up in pitch.
Chapter Twenty-one
He had been wandering through the Mill for what seemed like hours, and Marcus had yet to find another person alive or dead. There had been plenty of blood and pieces of meat. He’d almost slipped in a piece of blood-red flesh whilst checking out an empty apartment. Trying to convince himself that it was only some beef joint left out of a fridge had not worked.
The evidence was all about him but no bodies. Where was everybody? “Marcus, are you sure you want to find another person?”
People had died because of him. That poor girl and the old couple were no more because he had been arrogant enough to act the fucking hero. Being alone may be the best option. He gazed down at the brush handle grasped in his hand; he still hadn’t had the chance to use it. Marcus had picked this up after the incident with that little man who carried that black truncheon.
“Yes, I do believe that I want to meet another person, just the one.”
Marcus couldn’t believe that he’d forgotten about that bastard—well, he hadn’t forgotten about him, he just assumed that, like everyone else, the little man must have met with a grisly fate.