Dead Bones - Six Pack. The Ultimate Zombie Collection

by Ian Woodhead

  The third man grinned; he chambered a round and fired it into the ceiling directly above the woman. Maddie screamed as pieces of plaster rained down on her. The man chambered another round and pointed the weapon at her face.

  “The Magistrate has declared this area a tainted zone. He has ordered us to clear it any way we like. The captain of the guards believes that we should have you all tested before the execution starts. He isn’t here, though, and I’ve had my suspicions about you for a long time, you filthy tainted bitch.”

  The other two men then raised their shotguns. Maddie saw only contempt in all their faces.

  “Are you going to give me the opportunity to redecorate this hovel with your brains or are you going to be a good little mutant?”

  Maddie dropped the staff. Sneering at the two officers, she walked up to the remaining officer. She grabbed hold of the barrel of his gun and pushed it away from her face. She saw the look of astonishment at the ease of which she moved the shotgun.

  “Just you wait,” she snarled. Maddie pushed past him and walked over to the outer door, praying that the bastards would not shoot her in the back.

  She wrenched open the door and stood in the brilliant sunshine, listening to the three men behind her rush up behind her; she made no move as they grabbed her arms. She saw dozens of blue uniformed officers rounding the last of their people and loading them onto a flatbed truck. Maddie noticed a bundle of bloodied clothes sprawled beside the vehicle. “Oh, you bastards. What the fuck have you done?”

  The officer pushed her out into the garden as he spun his gun around and pulled back his arms.

  “Don’t even think about it,” said a familiar voice.

  The officer lowered his gun, then rushed up to Maddie and punched the woman hard in the stomach. She folded and fell to the floor. She heard David scream at the three of them before ordering the officers to get out of his sight. Maddie took one shuddering breath as the truck drove away. She looked up into his concerned face.

  “How the hell did this happen?”

  The officer sighed then helped her up. He guided her from the garden and sat Maddie down on the doorstep.

  “I’m so sorry. Wendy is dead. Some of the things broke into the cellar while she was in there.”

  Maddie closed her eyes, feeling tears roll down her cheeks. “Our lady told me that she was dead.”

  “What, just now? Oh Christ, you mean she’s awake? What else did she say?”

  Maddie looked into the officer’s eyes, seeing only joy. She did not understand why he did not already know that she had woken. Hadn't he felt the euphoria as she had?

  “Our Lady told me that I have to be strong.”

  “Fuck, you have no idea, Maddie. We are in so much shit. The Magistrate tested Wendy’s blood. He went completely fucking mental.” David looked around. “We both have to get out of here, right now.”

  “Wait, you mean the community?”

  He frantically nodded. “He told all the attending officers that the only reason the dead were attacking was because they were after the tainted. He said they’d be safe if they were all weeded out and killed.”

  “I’m not going anywhere without my Bruce.”

  David looked away from her. She saw an expression of pity and shame.

  “What are you not telling me?”

  “He’s going up against the wall in a few minutes.”

  Maddie jumped up. “You fucker!” she screamed. “You weren’t going to tell me!”

  She raced out of the garden, ignoring David’s shouts.

  Chapter Ten

  From his position, he could see his fellow brothers working the soil, turning the earth in readiness for the winter planting. Brother Enoch watched his friend, Brother Joshua pick up a garden fork and force the prongs into the ground. He closed his eyes and smiled when he remembered doing the same to a human who actually had the nerve to attack a hunter.

  All of his other pleasant memories from his time as a ravenous hunter had faded or had just left fragments of confusing and discordant images. Brother Enoch had clung onto that particular memory like a drowning man hanging onto a life belt. He had no idea when the incident happened or the events preceding the attack. Brother Enoch could not even recall what happened after, but he certainly remembered plunging those steel tips through his gut and the orgasmic blast that flew through his mind when the man screamed out in agony.

  He opened his eyes and laughed out of the stone window. They reminded him of so many ants, carrying on doing the same tedious duties day in, day out. He had spoken to all the other brothers and none could remember their previous existences, either as a hunter or as a human.

  Brother Enoch could not remember his human life either. There were times when he did awaken with what he thought were images of his past life, but they faded before he could latch onto the memories.

  “We may as well be dead; this is no life for any of us.” He looked beyond the fence, gazing at the hordes of dead pressed up against the fence. “Even the dead have a purpose.”

  Brother Enoch sighed, raised his body off the Abbot’s chair, retreated into the room, and wandered over to the man’s large bed. For the life in him, he could not remember just what possessed him to enter the Abbot’s private room. One minute he was right behind Brother Joshua on their way to the garden, and the next he found that he had strayed off course and walked away from the lot of them. His legs did not want to obey him; they only stopped when he reached the Abbot’s door.

  Brother Enoch looked at the key in the palm of his hand. He had found this hidden at the bottom of the Abbot’s nuts and berries bowl. For the first time in months, he felt his pulse quicken. He knew exactly where this key fit.

  There was only one locked door in the monastery and nobody knew what was behind it. Brother Enoch inwardly sighed, it would be more truthful to say that none of the other brothers cared, they were too busy praising the Abbot, planting vegetables, and eating nuts and fucking berries.

  He was the only one left who retained any curiosity. Brother Enoch peered out of the window. “You are looking at your future.” He shook his head. “No. No way will I end up like that lot down there. That’s no future.”

  He spun around and marched out of the room, wanting to get this over and done with before the brain dead idiots came marching back inside. Brother Enoch then laughed at himself for acting like a guilty schoolboy. They probably hadn’t even noticed that he was missing.

  Brother Enoch hurried along the damp stone corridor, listening to his sandals slap along the rough stone floor. He reached the large metal door and placed his hand on the cold surface. Sweat poured down his face. This nervousness was so unexpected. He grinned though, it felt so good to realise that he still had some emotion left inside him. He pushed the key into the lock and turned it.

  The door opened so smoothly when he grabbed the handle and pulled. Brother Enoch had to shut his eyes when the brilliant white light from within flooded into his eyes.

  “What is this?”

  Even with his eyes tight shut, the light penetrated, transforming his vision to a glowing scarlet.

  He turned around and backed into the room, before slowly opening his eyes, taking his time. Brother Enoch gazed into the dark corridor and counted to five before turning around.

  “What the fuck is all this?” he repeated, his eyes slowly adapted to the harsh white strip lighting and he found that he’d entered what looked like a laboratory. He retrieved the key from the lock and closed the door before turning back around so he could take in his new surroundings.

  Brilliant white paint covered all four rough stone walls. He noticed another two doors set into the wall in the top end of this large room. What drew his attention back were two metal shelves on the wall opposite. Several glass jars graced the top shelve and three smaller ones stood on the shelf below. Each one contained a pale pink fluid, each one a different shade. Brother Enoch had no idea what he was looking at. He followed the room around unti
l his eyes saw a small wooden table in the corner cluttered with plastic piping, test tubes, and more glass jars.

  Brother Enoch leaned back against the door. This unexpected find coupled with his heightened emotions helped to dredge up another forgotten memory. He saw a classroom, the walls painted a dull grey. He sat in a sea of young teenagers, every one hunched over wooden tables; most of them were wearing plastic goggles. He turned to the front and watched a middle-aged man excitedly pointing to a group of incomprehensible symbols chalked on a blackboard. He knew this man, but his real name kept escaping; trying to fix a label to this excitable bloke with wild brown hair and watery pale blue eyes was like trying to climb a grease smeared metal pole.

  He knew where this was though. He stood in the middle of the chemistry lab on the top floor of the old building at Bolden Comprehensive. He wanted to scream out in joy at the feeling of actually being able to remember another past life event.

  “My real name is…”

  No matter how hard he tried, that piece of information refused to show itself.

  “Fuck you!” he shouted.

  Brother Enoch took in huge lungfuls of air in a vain attempt to dispense the irritation. He caught his breath, the memory of the classroom vanished like old smoke, but that did not concern him, something else in this strange room had captured his attention.

  He could smell strong bleach and cheap disinfectant. The odour was strong enough to burn his nostril hairs. Despite the intense smell, brother Enoch detected another faint aroma. He slowly pulled his lips up, feeling his saliva flood his mouth. He would recognise the smell of a recent kill anywhere.

  “Oh, fuck me!” he shouted in surprise as another memory abruptly slammed into him. “I know who I am. My real name is Simon Armstrong. I’m thirty nine and I used to collect beer bottles.”

  The man rushed over to a table standing in the middle of the room and ran the tips of his fingers across the cold metal. Somebody had died on here, not that long ago, of that fact he had no doubt.

  He thought of all those times that they had had to attend all those tedious masses, listening to the Abbot’s boring sermons about how that all had to repent for their sins. All that time the Abbot and his companions were living like kings and dining on flesh forbidden to the rest of the brothers.

  He felt the rage building up and along with it the aching need to destroy everything in this fucking room. He growled and ran over to the shelves and picked up one of the jars, intending to crush it. Simon’s deep seated instinct for self preservation then kicked in at the last moment when he realised just what damage splintered shards of glass would do to his flesh. He had no wish to bleed out and die on this black tiled floor.

  That did not make any sense. If the Abbot was still gorging himself on human meat, then why did he bleed out? He brought the jar closer to his face and shook the glass, watching the pale pink glutinous fluid inside froth up. Was it possible that the Abbot and the other ones had found a way to eat the infected meat without getting sick?

  Looking at the set up over on that little table, the evidence certainly pointed to that theory. Then Simon laughed bitterly, who was he trying to kid? They would first have to understand the mechanics of the virus before finding a solution. If all the best minds on the planet, using every resource available could not do that, what hope did two psychos and a junior chemistry set have?

  There had to be another solution. He bent over the table and inhaled; there was a trace of blood somewhere on here. Simon carefully inspected the surface, paying attention to the four shackles. He giggled when he found what looked like a tiny rust spot in the corner of one of the top shackles.

  He scraped his fingernail through it and pushed his finger into his waiting mouth. As soon as the dried blood found his tongue, Simon dropped to the floor as what felt like nuclear fire surged through his veins. Simon screamed out in joy, arching his back as his muscles locked up. He managed to roll onto his front as his body shuddered and shook. Thirty-nine years of suppressed memories deluged his empty mind, filling him up, his brain soaking it all like a dry sponge.

  After what seemed like a decade, he felt his mind and body quickly return to the same state before Simon had found the blood. Not matter how hard he tried, his memories just slithered away. He cried out in frustration as once again a dense mist settled over his precious memories. Simon sat up and gazed at the bed, needing more blood, yet knowing that even if he did find some, the amount would be just minuscule. He needed gallons of the stuff.

  Not all his memories had vanished. The taste of that blood had helped him retain another recollection. Simon found himself searching through a bedroom; he had no idea what had happened to the previous occupants, nor did he care. It had been three weeks since he last ate flesh and he was beginning to panic. He did not want to starve. Whether or not he would actually die from not eating was open to opinion, but he did know that no food left him slow and weak, making him an easier target for the dead. They would certainly make sure he was dead if those foul bastards caught him.

  There were no other hunters in this city, at least none that he could detect, but he knew there were at least a dozen humans hiding somewhere amongst the empty buildings. This one was so close that Simon could almost taste that terrified mind desperately trying to blend in with the house. His meal just had to be somewhere in this fucking room. He had already checked the rest of the house, including the loft, with no success.

  Simon picked up a wooden chair that he had previously thrown against the room and sat down upon it. He did not know where else to look.

  He looked down at his feet and saw an eyeball looking back up at him through a crack in the floorboards. It took Simon just seconds to rip those boards up and about a minute to quench his appetite with the human’s soft, rich meat.

  At the time, he figured that the reason why the man’s flesh tasted so divine was that he had not eaten for weeks. Simon had felt on top of the world for a long time after he had finished off the meat, but he did remember that he had never found another human that tasted like pure ambrosia.

  He picked himself up off the tiled floor and looked around the lab once again. Simon recalled that the man hiding under the floorboards had a bite mark on his left forearm. He had not given it much though, assuming that it was just a dog bite from years ago.

  “What if it wasn’t from an animal?” he muttered. It was conceivable that a tiny select group of humans could be immune to the virus. Was that what he had found under the floorboards? He looked at the table; perhaps the Abbot and his dodgy pal had found one too.

  “Fuck, that must be it. The bastards had found an immune human and kept the secret to themselves.” The memory of the man under the floorboards was starting to fade. “Oh no, I really need more of that fucking blood.” He ran over to the shelf and grabbed one of the vials. He pulled the lid off and sighed at the delightful smell of fresh blood hit the back of his throat.

  “What the fuck is mixed with it?” It could be poison for all he knew, and if he did drink this, he may find himself shitting out all his insides within an hour. Simon looked over at the main door and knew that in a few more seconds he would not know who he was or where he was or why he was not in the garden with the rest of those clowns.

  He lifted the glass, opened his mouth, and felt the thick liquid slide down his throat.

  The shock hit him again, but this time he was able to control the return of knowledge. He felt like a superhuman. Simon allowed the glass to fall from his hands. He bent over, picked up a shard of the broken vial, and slid it across the wrist. The glass cut easily through skin and flesh, leaving an ugly looking wet wound. He giggled as the flesh knitted together as he watched.

  He spun around and staggered back at the sudden intrusion of another strong mind. He did not understand it. He was still alone. There was no doubt though, another mind was in here with him. The signature felt similar to the man he had found under those floorboards.

  He caught himself looking
at the floor, as if lightening might strike twice and another savoury human would be waiting there to be devoured. Simon wandered over to the two doors. The first one was locked, but that did not bother him, he just wrenched the lock right off. The room inside was empty. It looked like a small study. Simon spotted a bed in the corner. There was nobody in here, though. Simon hurried over to the next door and pulled it open, amazed to find that it was a huge walk in chiller. He stared in delight at the metal shelves stacked with clear packets of blood.

  “Oh my god, I’ve discovered heaven.”

  The thoughts were coming from inside here. Simon spotted another, larger bag at the end of the fridge. He walked over and picked it up with no effort at all. The bag contained the severed head of a young girl. She was dead, not infected, but Simon could still feel her thoughts. They were slow and unformed. He grabbed one of the bags, ripped it open greedily, and poured the contents directly down his throat.

  His mind was transported to a settlement full of humans, unfamiliar uniformed men, and a large man walking about. He saw an old, frail woman kissing a younger girl and wishing her good luck.

  He blinked and found himself back in the chiller. He knew exactly where the others had gone. He realised that he could now sense the minds of his fellow ex-hunters. Like the girl’s thoughts, they were slow and seemed like blobs of information with no clear outlines. He looked at the bags of blood and a thought filled his mind. He realised that with his new powers and strength, he could make his own army. He could be the new Abbot. Unlike the last one, he would lead the brothers to a feast of flesh.

  Simon opened the bag and took out the cold head. He slammed the side of the head on the corner of the shelf behind him as if he were cracking a coconut. He sat down, and pushed his fingers into the hole he had created. He scooped out the freezing grey slush and pushed the stuff into his mouth. As he chewed, Simon decided to kill those three traitors first before he took possession of this glorious bounty. It would so be good to start hunting again.