by Ian Woodhead
It was a tough couple of weeks. He had been unable to leave the house, and Andrew was close to starving by the time the bastards had all moved off.
Andrew reached the front gate, looked up and down the street, and saw nothing moving. That fact didn’t surprise Andrew. When the dead things drifted away, they took the locals with them as well. He gathered that they must have all headed for the city in search of food.
If he were going to get himself another cloak, Andrew would need to hurry up before they all went.
“You really are losing your fucking marbles,” he muttered. If all the things had gone, he wouldn’t need a new cloak anyway.
He believed that he had witnessed the first of a mass migration. They were grouping together, following wherever the food went. Andrew wondered how many true humans like himself were left in the UK. Not that many was probably the correct answer. He had not seen any at all. There had been a lot of hunters passing his way but no humans. That reminded him, he had better get a move on if he wished to catch up with his latest batch of three hunters
Andrew pushed open his gate and hurried along the street, keeping close to the buildings and to the long shadows. His eyes darted from building to car, examining any possible hiding place, ready to run at any unexplained movement.
His target did appear to be in a hurry so it was likely that they’d be out of his territory by now anyway. He might be lucky to catch them if they had taken a rest. He kept his wits about him. It would be very embarrassing if he suddenly tripped over their feet. Andrew could just imagine trying to explain himself away.
He stopped and leaned against the window of a charity shop to catch his breath. “It wouldn’t matter what I said, the bastards would still eat me.” There was a pharmacy across the road. That shop brought back happy memories. Andrew had cornered his last hunter just by the shop doorway.
Andrew caught up with him by the door after chasing the bastard throughout the town. He seemed a little puny for a hunter. Andrew wasn’t fooled though, he didn’t care if he looked around fifty, had a filthy grey beard, and different coloured boots. Andrew learned from painful experience that he should never judge by appearance.
The old man had cowered by the shop window. Andrew remembered gazing at the sign above the weeping man’s head announcing flu-shots were half price for this week only. Andrew heard the man plead to spare his life and he’d done no harm to anyone. At one point, the man even offered to give him money.
He was very close to just turning around and just walking away, believing no hunter could be that stupid. Common sense won out though. Andrew knew that it was all just some elaborate hoax and as soon as he did turn, the hunter would leap onto his back and rip out Andrew’s throat.
He spun around and thrust the blade through the man’s eye socket, jumping when the glass window behind the man shattered.
Andrew took a deep breath, feeling a little rested. He wasn’t too surprised to see that there was no trace of the hunter’s body. The only evidence that anything had happened over the road were tiny pieces of broken glass still stuck in the window frame.
He ran along the pavement, trying to get to the top of this hill. Andrew would have a perfect view of the route out of the town from the top. He’d have no problem in spotting them. When he watched them pass by his front room window they were going at a good pace, so they were obviously in a hurry; that meant they were unlikely to meander. Andrew put on a burst of speed, not wanting to lose them.
A sudden glint of light in a shop window caught his eye. Andrew stopped and spun around, he stared over at the barber’s window. He hadn’t imagined it. There was somebody in there, he was sure of it. As he raised his sword, he felt somebody grab his collar and jerked him backwards.
As he fell, his legs were kicked out from under him and Andrew hit the ground hard. He rolled onto his back and discovered three pairs of eyes glaring down at him. When Andrew attempted to raise his head, he found the tip of his own blade resting on his throat.
The woman crouched beside him. “Oh, you poor, poor man. I really am sorry. I can’t imagine the terror that you must have experienced when that thing took away your family.”
Andrew cringed back when her hand reached towards him. “Stay the fuck away from me!” he screamed. “You can’t eat me, I taste bad.”
She sighed. “Dearest, Andrew. We are not hunters.”
“How the hell did you know my name, and how did you know about what happened to me?” His eyes went wide when the pieces fell into place. “Oh my fucking lord. You lot really can read my mind!”
Her hand snapped out and she placed the palm of her hand against his cheek. She felt so soft and warm. Andrew smelled faint perfume. He hadn’t felt a female hand on any part of his body since his wife was taken from him.
“Andrew, we are no hunters, we are human, just like you. It’s just that we do have some special abilities. I’m Allison and the man who’s playing with your sword is Patrick. The gentleman glaring at you is called Trevor. I’d suggest you calm down, Andrew. Trevor wants to leave you here.”
The young man spun around and stared at Allison. “You’re not thinking of taking him with us are you?”
She shrugged. “Patrick, what else do you suggest? Despite his miscalculations, he’s still a human being.”
Trevor growled. “You have got to be joking. He’s a fucking murderer. He needs to be put out of his misery.”
Andrew watched the hunter arguing with interest. He had not seen anything like it before. He attempted to calm his thoughts while keeping a close eye on the boy. By studying his posture, it was clear that he’d never held a sword before, never mind use one. There still may be a chance that he could get out of this situation.
Patrick took two sudden steps back; he looked over at the woman. “Did you catch all that?”
Allison nodded, “Yeah, I caught it all,” she replied, not taking her eyes off Andrew. “Yeah, okay, you’ve convinced me. Go for it.”
The boy lunged forward and swiped the blade from left to right. Andrew managed to stumble backwards to avoiding the blade cutting him in half.
“Here’s the bad news, you dirty shithead. Every person that you have killed has been as human as you. Most of the hunters died out ages ago. Well done, you’ve been murdering your own kind. There are worse things out there now, Andrew.” Patrick smiled at him. “So, you’re correct, we really do want to eat you. The only reason why you’re still breathing is because we killed two humans a few miles away and we’re not very hungry right now.”
Andrew heard the other man stifle a giggle. He failed to understand what was so funny.
“At the moment, we’re couldn’t really eat another human.”
Allison gazed at the other two men; he saw a tiny smile appear on her face. Andrew did not like the look of how this game was going.
“We’ll give you a head start,” she said. “I think a couple of minutes should be sufficient.” Allison spun around and looked into his terrified looking face. “If you can get to your house first, I promise that we’ll leave you alone and we’ll be on our merry way. Of course, if we catch you first, I’m personally going to pull off your arms.” The woman took a step towards him. “Why are you still here?”
Andrew stumbled over half a brick; he corrected his balance and raced down the middle of the road. He heard that bitch counting down from twenty as he widened the distance between him and them. Andrew knew that they would come after him before their countdown reached zero, of course the fuckers would. Everything was a game to them, including that bizarre charade.
He wasn’t about to lie down and let them tear him to pieces, though…oh no, not Andrew Sykes. He was far too wily for those fuckers. He reached the top of the hill and ran into the first shop, knowing that the important thing was to get out of their sight. Did they know where he lived? He wasn’t too sure about that one. Then again, even if they did, the fuckers would not be able to get to him once he’d barricaded himself inside. He ha
d spent many months in designing the perfect shelter.
“They’ll soon find out that nobody fucks with me,” he growled. Andrew leaped over the shop’s counter and ran into the storeroom. Unlike those three hunters, he knew this town like the back of his hand. He had spent many weeks walking and exploring the many buildings, ensuring that if this day ever arrived he’d be prepared. As far as he was concerned, the town was just an extension of his shelter.
He pushed through the emergency exit, looking behind him before racing through the shop’s delivery yard. Andrew scaled the low wall at the bottom of the yard and dropped into the town’s carpark. They would never be able to follow him directly through his town, he knew that for certain. It did worry him a little that the female had delved through his thoughts, though. He felt somehow violated.
There were only a few vehicles in the carpark. Andrew ensured that he stayed well away from them as he jogged along the tarmac. He wasn’t taking any chances, the dead things had a tendency to hide under the wheels. He had seen a few people falling for that trick back in the beginning. They wouldn’t catch him though; he hadn’t survived until now by taking stupid risks.
“Apart from going after three hunters armed with only a sword?” He took a deep breath, looking back. It may have been a better plan to take the crossbow. “Or, you could have just let them leave town,” he muttered.
Andrew reached the main carpark entrance, ran across the road, and slipped into the town’s park. When he did get back to the safety of his shelter, he would have to evaluate his plan for his continued survival. This whole day had raised too many uncomfortable questions.
His house was within sight now. He ran the last few metres, jumped over the wall, and dropped into his back garden. Andrew attempted to calm his racing heart. He’d beaten those three hunters; even if they did discover where he live and broke their promise, he would be ready for them now.
He stopped at the front door and looked up, frowning at the sight of his bedroom window. Andrew was sure that he’d closed that. “You’re getting jumpy in your old age.” He looked behind him, glad to see that there was no sign of anyone. He then unlocked the door and hurried into his house.
Those lying words uttered from that woman kept spinning around inside his head about him killing his fellow survivors. Andrew knew she was just playing with him, trying to fuck him up with mind games, yet he just couldn’t shake the feeling that she might have been telling the truth.
“It’s just bollocks,” he muttered. Andrew ran into his living room, shivering; it felt colder in here than it should be. He ran up to his wall and took down the crossbow. Even with just two bolts, he’d be able to take out at least two of them. They didn’t know that two bolts was all he had. Andrew took down his other sword as well before making his way towards the stairs.
Andrew stopped at the foot of the stairs and slowly looked up, not believing what he was seeing. “Oh no,” he uttered. He felt hot urine gush down his thigh as he saw two crimson monsters attached to the wall. They both clambered across his dark blue wallpaper, heading toward Andrew. His leaden feet refused to move. Andrew felt the scream building up inside him when he heard the tapping of clawed feet upon his wooden floor. He knew there was another one right behind him.
He moaned softly as a huge shadow fell over his head. He whimpered when he felt one of them drop down in front of him. His voice intensified their movements; the others landed beside him and reached out. They all dragged their hardened limps down his shivering body. The stench of rotting meat filled his nostrils.
He forced his head up, towards the framed picture of his family at the top of the stairs. “I’m so sorry that I failed you.” The weapons fell from his hands when a dozen hot needles of agony lanced through his torso. He dropped to the floor and Andrew shrieked out as the things fell on him.
Chapter Ten
Peter gazed at the back of his new companion’s head. Apart from thanking him for saving his emaciated body when that dead thing suddenly appeared, the stranger had said nothing apart from announce his name and tell Peter that he knew a way out of here.
He splashed his way through the knee-deep ice-cold water—he’d lost all feeling to his lower limbs almost as soon as the smelly skeleton jumped into the water and he followed him.
“Are you sure that you know where you’re going?”
The boy suddenly stopped. He turned around and grinned at Peter. “How’s your leg?”
Peter shrugged. “A lot better, Tom. I think. It’s hard to tell, I can’t feel anything below my waist.”
Tom nodded and grinned. “Wait here,” he whispered.
Before he could reply, the kid sped off along the dark tunnel. Within moments Peter had lost sight of him. “Hey!” he shouted. Where have you gone? Come back, you can’t leave me!” Is that what the little fucker had just done? “That’s just fucking brilliant,” he growled. “That’s my thanks for saving your life is it?”
He could hear the little bastard’s feet splashing through the water. “Come back here, you fucker!” he screamed. Peter then took a deep breath; the splashing sounds had abruptly stopped. Had the kid gotten out of here and abandoned him?
Peter hadn’t seen a single way out of this place since he started to follow the kid. This was just dumb, why was he even carrying on? What was the point of rushing into the unknown down this godforsaken pitch-black tunnel?
He should just go back. Peter ground to a halt and put his hands against the wall to stop him slipping.
The splashing noises started again. Was that kid coming back? He shook his head; the sound was coming from further down the tunnel, in the opposite direction.
“Who’s there?” he shouted, amazed that there wasn’t a trace of nerves in his voice. “I have a gun, I’ll shoot if you don’t answer me.”
The sound of numerous groans answered his call. Peter’s blood turned to ice when he realised that the dead were down here with him. By the noises the fuckers were making, the tunnel must be packed with their foul bodies. He panicked; the cold fear of dozens of unseen rotting hands reaching out of the darkness, grabbing his flesh, and pulling him apart gripped his heart and squeezed it tight.
Peter spun around, his feet lost their grip and he fell into the ice-cold water. The vile smelling sewer water filled his mouth. He coughed and spluttered, choking on the stuff while he desperately tried to scramble back onto his feet. Peter grabbed the side of the concrete side, whimpering as his stomach ejected the stuff from his mouth and nose. Those things were getting closer. He scrambled back up, put his hands against the wall, surprised, and shocked as his fingers pushed through thick fabric. A dull yellow glow emanated from the narrow hole. It was large enough to crawl through; most importantly, it was dry and provided an escape away from those things.
The man heaved his body inside the tunnel. It wasn’t high enough to stand up, but that didn’t bother him. As long as here was away from those bastards, that’s the only thing that mattered. The kid had led him into a trap, what sort of a cunt’s trick was that? As he crawled, Peter decided that if that kid ever crossed his path, the fucker wouldn’t live long enough to give him an explanation.
The tunnel began to widen and he saw lit torches bolted to both sides of the walls. Peter hurriedly crawled further away from the curtain. He tried not to make any noise when the sound of those things passing on the other side of the curtain reached his ears.
As he crawled, Peter began to notice small red crosses painted on side of the rough stone wall. He reached another curtain and pulled it back to reveal a bricked up cavern. Peter dropped down. He saw more red crosses on the other side of the cavern and another curtain hanging across the brickwork about half way up the wall.
This looked like some forgotten storeroom. He saw rubbish littering the concrete floor, empty cigarette packets, an empty tin of peaches, and crumpled up sheets of newspaper hugging the edges of the floor.
Peter guessed that this was how the last of the survivors moved a
bout their ruined city. That made sense, who would be crazy enough to attempt to live on the surface anyway? He heard shuffling coming from the other tunnel. He hoped to fuck that no more of those dead things had found another way in. Peter hobbled into the corner and ducked behind some steel shelving and hoped the shadows would swallow him.
Two men dressed like that kid emerged from the new tunnel. The men dropped onto the floor. They padded across the room, jumped up, and crawled into the tunnel where Peter had come from. They didn’t even give his location a second glance.
He waited until they were both out of sight before leaving his hiding place and making his way over to the other curtain. Peter lifted up his leg and examined his foot. The swelling had gone down, he obviously hadn’t broken the bone like he feared. He jumped up, pushed back the curtain, and crawled into the new tunnel.
Peter advanced a few metres, stopped, and quietly moaned when the sound of their agonising shrieking blasted out from the other tunnel.
He allowed them to enter that tunnel, knowing what would befall them. “Oh fuck,” he moaned. “What’s happening to me? I should have fucking said something.” The sound of chewing now replaced the last of their terrified cries. Peter slowly made his way along the tunnel, thankful that as he moved away, those noises grew quieter.
Peter sighed heavily, he knew what was happening to him. After a few hours of being lost in this version of hell, his humanity was dying. It was one aspect that nobody needed here. Deep down, he knew that if those men had noticed him, it would be Peter’s bones that those fuckers would be sucking on right now.
Peter braced his arms against the wall as the tunnel sloped upwards, the last thing he needed right now was to tumble backwards. His fingers found some caver’s pitons hammered into the rock and he used them to pull his tired body up.