Dead Bones - Six Pack. The Ultimate Zombie Collection

by Ian Woodhead

  He waited for Adam to climb through the window and he passed him the bag, “Don’t run off with that,” he said. He should be able to get this stuff into his own cache and set off for the shops in less than an hour. Rob could be back here and armed to the teeth within half a day. He grinned; his life was finally looking up.

  Rob climbed through the window and carefully positioned his feet on the platform, not wanting to fall onto the tracks. He looked around the station and ground his teeth in fury, he didn’t believe this, the little bastard was nowhere in sight; the fucker had run off with the gear.

  “I’m so going to hurt him for this,” he muttered. Rob ran out of the platform and suddenly found himself on the floor. The back of his head slammed against the hard concrete.

  “I should have known that it was you were behind this daring raid. No other cunt would have the balls to defy me.”

  Rob blinked away the dizziness and tried to sit up, crying out as a boot kicked him back down. “Mr Stone, look, this isn’t what it looks like.” He looked over and saw the bloodied face of Adam stood between two of Mr Stone’s men. The carrier bag was nowhere to be seen. Rob looked over at the huge grey haired man wearing a black business suit. In a world where the remaining humans were plastered in grime, filth, and shit, this man looked so out of place, as if he belonged to another world.

  “I saw him stealing all your stuff, sir, and I tried to stop him, honest I did. Mr Stone, I’m your best scavenger, you know me. I wouldn’t bite the hand that fed me.”

  The man grinned, showing off his perfect white teeth. “Oh, I do know you, Robert Johnson, I also know that you’re a lying, sneaky, dirty little fuckstain.” He nodded at the man currently holding Rob down. The man lifted him up by his neck and brought him closer to the large man. He reached behind his legs and brought out a single tin of pineapple chunks. “These are my favourites, you know. We all have our favourite food.”

  Sudden pain detonated in Rob’s guts as Mr Stone booted him.

  “I’ve got such a joyous surprise for you two,” he hissed.

  Chapter Twelve

  The blade arced through the air and bit into the back of the dead thing’s knee, slicing through the flesh with ease. Trevor pushed it over, jumping back as it continued to crawl towards them. Its movements only stopped as the numerous companions trampled across its back.

  Trevor’s arm snapped out and he pushed Patrick roughly through the door. “For crying out loud, lad, get a fucking move on.”

  Patrick staggered back, watching Trevor follow him inside before slamming the door shut.

  “I don’t get you, Patrick,” he said, panting. “Why the fuck did you choose this route? You almost had all three of us killed.” He wiped his hand across his face, grimacing when he found black fluid on his palm.

  “Trevor, this isn’t his doing. I chose this route,” replied Allison, standing on the hallway stairs behind them. “This is the house that Our Lady showed me. We were supposed to come here.”

  Patrick ignored Trevor’s silent plea to help him. Why should he? The bastard had just accused Patrick of getting them all killed. There was no way that he was getting involved. He was just thankful that he was away from all those dead things and that Allison was taking out all this unusual emotion on Trevor for a change. She’d had been getting weirder the closer they got to the city. It didn’t matter what he said, she refused to talk to him.

  Patrick squeezed past them and walked into the living room. Unlike a lot of houses they had passed, this one looked relatively unspoilt. The windows were still intact and apart from traces of mould and patches of damp along the wall, it looked perfectly liveable, almost as if the outbreak had never happened.

  He decided not to ruin the illusion by peering through the drawn curtains. He wondered how long they’d be able to stay here before the dead found a way inside. Patrick looked over at the girl; he supposed that depended on her. Patrick felt sorry for poor Trevor, it turned out that he was now just hired muscle. She’d abruptly taken away his right to make decisions over two hours ago.

  It was as if someone had activated a concealed switch as soon as they reached the outskirts of the city. He knew that this had everything to do with the council taking her to one side at the last moment. Something else was going on here, some sort of hidden agenda. Despite attempts to peer into her mind, the only reward he received was a slap and a telling off.

  Patrick entered the kitchen. If this house hadn’t been raided, there might be a chance that there could still be some food in here. He rushed over to the cupboards and suddenly stopped when he saw the vast expanse of water directly outside the window. “Bloody hell, it’s the Thames,” he breathed. “We’re nearly there.” He grabbed the nearest cupboard door and squealed in delight when he pulled it open. “Oh my God!”

  “Patrick, what’s wrong?”

  He turned around and giggled when he saw the angst plastered over his companions gore splattered faces. The concern soon changed to delight. “Fuck me,” said Trevor. “We’ve found Aladdin’s cave.”

  “Do you still doubt the route, Trevor?” asked Allison, standing behind him. “We have time to fill our stomachs before continuing.” She pushed past Trevor and wrapped her arms around his neck. “There’s a tin of pineapple chunks right at the back of the cupboard.” She softly kissed him on the lips. “Have something yourself, then bring that upstairs with you.” Allison kissed him again. “I’ll be in the second bedroom on the left. There’s no need to bring a spoon.” The girl giggled removed her arms and disappeared into the living room.

  Patrick looked at Trevor, wanting to ask him what he made of all this, but he was too busy staring at that cupboard packed full of tinned food.

  “Pass me that tin of stewed steak; oh, and those beans.”

  He passed him the tins, grabbed another tin of steak for himself, then searched through the remaining can until he found the pineapples. “Will this food still be edible?”

  Trevor nodded. He opened the meat and plunged his fingers into the contents. “This stuff lasts for decades as long as the tins aren’t damaged.” The man scooped out some gravy-coated chunks of meat and rammed them into his mouth. “Oh my God,” he said, “This is just fucking bliss.” Trevor placed the two tins on the table, sat down, and dived back into the stewed steak. “I used to live on tins of this when I was at uni, Patrick. All the other students pigged out on burgers and pizza.” He grinned. “Not me, though.” He sighed. “Eating this brings back memories of happier times.” Trevor glanced over at that single tin of pineapples. “You’d better go take that upstairs to your bossy girlfriend so she can suck your willy.”

  Patrick felt his cheeks redden. “Fuck off, just cos she’s giving you a hard time, you don’t have to take out your bitchiness on me.”

  The man shrugged. “Whatever, I think it’s you who should be doing the fucking off, mate.” Trevor pulled open the tin of beans and reached across the table and pulled Patrick’s tin towards him. “You see, I’m beginning to think that I’m getting the shitty end of the deal here. I know that your freaks call us poor normal people dullards.” Trevor glared at the boy. “I get that bit, I really do. I suppose we are a bit dim, but I’m not dim enough to work out that something really fucked up is going on here.”

  Patrick leaned over and snatched his tin off him. He then grabbed the pineapples from the table. “I’ve got better things to do than to listen to your paranoid bullshit.” He grabbed his crotch. “Like having a pair of warm lips around my cock.” Patrick grinned at the man. “You’re just jealous, that’s what it is, you’re jealous cos I’m getting some and you’re not.”

  The man stood up and slammed his sword on the table. “I was ordered to protect you two pair of freaks. I left my beautiful wife and three-month-old baby girl because I believed that this was the correct thing to do. The council gave me specific instructions; and yet nothing was mentioned about having to take orders from some stroppy teenage bitch.”

  Trevor r
an his fingers along the blade. He looked up. “Our Lady has seen everything; she would not leave that piece of information out, Patrick. You had better take your tins upstairs and have your bit of fun. Just you make sure that you tell your little piece of fluff that I’m no longer listening to her. Have you got that or do you need me to engrave it into your forehead?”

  Patrick nodded and fled the kitchen; he did not like the look on that man’s face, and he had suddenly turned very scary. He hurried through the room and reached the doorway that led the stairway. Patrick looked back and saw that he had sat back down and carried on scooping the food out of the tins.

  As he climbed the stairs, Patrick thought about what the man had just said. He still believed that the bastard was a bit jealous because he was getting sex and Trevor wasn’t but even so, he did have a valid point regarding Allison.

  “He’s started to get suspicious.”

  Patrick jumped, he didn’t see her standing at the top of the stairs. Allison took the tin out of his hand, then led Patrick into the bedroom. “Yeah, just a bit,” he replied. “How did you know?”

  “Our Lady said this would happen when we reached this house. He’s a good man and they said his family will be looked after.” She suddenly grabbed both his arms.

  “What are you doing?” He felt her strength as she held him tight. There was no way he could release her. She was just too strong. “What are you doing?” Patrick’s head jerked towards the door when he heard the sound of breaking glass coming from downstairs.

  “I’m making sure you don’t go down there,” she replied. “You aren’t allowed to alter what Our Lady has foreseen.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” he gasped. “We can’t let those things eat him, he’s saved our lives.”

  “Just listen to me!” she hissed. “He’s only another dullard.”

  “You’ve just said he was a good man!”

  The girl twisted him around and pushed Patrick onto the bed. “He is, but he’s still just another dullard. This is a war and his kind are expendable. We are not, and he’s saving our lives right now. As soon as they’ve taken Trevor, they’ll move on and we’ll be able to continue our journey.”

  Patrick heard him shouting out their names, and then the sound of the dead moaning drowned out Trevor’s shouting. He closed his eyes and slammed his hands against his ears when the man’s screaming reached him. Tears ran down his cheeks, Patrick felt her sit beside him. She pulled his hands away.

  “I know you don’t understand any of this. Believe me, sweetheart, when the council filled my head with all this stuff I felt as you did, I wanted to be sick. All I wanted was to run to you, Patrick, and hold your body against mine.” She stroked his hair. “I’ve had a bit more time to let this sink in.” Allison kissed him. “Trevor died a hero, Patrick. He died so we could live. You need to believe me here. The council was correct. If we don’t finish this, then we’re all done for.”

  Patrick listened to them shuffle through the rest of the house. He kneeled up and watched the dead things drag Trevor’s bloodied body out into the garden. “We’ve just fucking killed him!” He turned back around. “No, that’s crap. You’ve just fucking killed him, and I let you.”

  Patrick held up his hand. “Oh, wait, don’t tell me. Our blessed Lady has already told you that we’d have this fucking conversation and no doubt advised you on the correct response. Am I right?”

  The girl spun around and ran out of the bedroom.

  “Hey, where are you going? I haven’t finished talking to you.” Patrick ran after her. He watched Allison run down the stairs. “Come back here!” he screamed. “Allison, you can’t go down there, the house is crawling with those things!”

  Patrick stood at the top of the stairs; looking down at the shattered glass door, he saw spots of blood glistening on the tiny splinters of glass scattered across the light brown carpet. He listened to the silence. She had been right, the dead things had left them; the fuckers had taken their prize and just gone.

  The sides of his mouth dropped and Patrick began to tremble. The dead things had broken through only a minute after he had left the man to continue his sulk. What would have happened to Patrick if he had been down there when they had smashed their way inside? That might have been his blood splattered across the carpet. He took the stairs two at a time, desperate to get some answers out of the woman.

  Patrick rushed through the kitchen and abruptly stopped by the kitchen door when he saw Allison holding the sword in her hand, leaning her head against the wall and sobbing.

  “I hate this,” she gasped looking up at him. “I fucking hate this. Why did the bastards have to pick on us?” She looked down at the sword and laughed harshly. “We have no choice than to see this through.”

  “Of course we have a fucking choice! This isn’t our fight. Since when did we become markers on some fucking game board?”

  Allison kissed him again. “Our lady told me to give this to you, Patrick.” Allison threw it on the table.”

  “Did they know I was going to react like that?”

  Allison brushed her fingers down his cheek. “Baby, I so love you.” She reached for the sword and placed the handle into his hands. “You’re going to need this, Patrick. Look out for them emerging from the overturned bus. You’ll know what I mean when you see it.”

  He gazed into her tear-filled eyes, his heart dropping as he realised what she was telling him. “No, I’m not leaving you. Fuck the lot of them, this has nothing to do with us, we’re just kids. I refuse to fight their dirty battles.” He pulled her towards him, feeling her heartbeat pound against her ribs. “Please, don’t leave me?”

  She brushed her lips against his then ran her fingers through his hair. “We’ll only be apart for a few hours.” Allison gently pulled his arms off her body. “Trevor died for nothing if we don’t see this through. Our lady said that we’ll meet by a large fountain. Have faith, my darling?”

  He watched her walk across the kitchen, turning back just once before disappearing through the door.

  Chapter Thirteen

  That now dead human had gone to great lengths to ensuring no other human was able to access this building. It took even took Raphael some considerable time to rip away the coils of barbed wire and bite through the wooden boards that covered the skylight.

  He stopped beside a concrete pillar and examined the wound on his lower-left arm. Thankfully, the stab-wound had only grazed him. Raphael frowned; the human had taken him by surprise. He hadn’t a clue that the skinny old woman had a weapon until he felt the thin blade penetrate his flesh.

  Raphael had intended to kill her quickly, but after seeing his own blood covering her hand, all his hands encircled each of the woman’s limbs and he squeezed his fingers tight until he heard her bones crack. He took great joy in absorbing her agonising shrieks. It made him feel so much better for allowing yet another prey to get the better of him. When she had finally ran out of voice, Raphael lifted her off the floor and pulled his limbs apart, feeling vindicated when it was her turn to soak his hands with her hot blood as her arms and legs separated from her torso.

  Thanks to the delight of consuming all her warm flesh, guzzling down the soft innards, and even scooping out the rich substance from inside the thickest of her bones, Raphael had now fully healed, not even a scar remained.

  Raphael scuttled down the darkened aisle. He gazed in fascination at the bewildering amount of human food items displayed on the shelves. Why had the woman been so skinny? There was enough food in here to last one human for decades, and he had yet to find evidence that she had even touched a single thing. It just didn’t make any sense.

  This was his first visit to one of these places. It was called a supermarket; he had taken images of similar buildings from lots of human minds. Places like this one used to be very important to the species. That was something else that made little sense to Raphael. Just like a rat, they were able to eat just about anything organic. Why go to all t
his trouble of wrapping it all up in pretty packages? He sighed and pushed all these irrelevant questions away. None of it had any bearing on his current task.

  Raphael picked up a round can that showed a picture of some chopped pineapples on the front. This was what his girl was craving; he ran his tongue over both lips, that and the other thing. Now he knew exactly why those urges compelled his eldest brother to approach his mother. Raphael picked up another can while watching his phallus grow. He had now experienced the elation of procreation that until earlier he had only experienced second-hand. Even better, he had not died. That meant he would be able to experience again. Raphael sighed; well, he would as soon as the woman’s injuries had healed.

  It did cause Raphael a great deal of grief, listening to her wailing while his barbed phallus shredded her sleeve, and it took a lot of energy to fix her back up, both physically and mentally. He did not repair the damage caused by the fall. Raphael did not want to lose his girl.

  “This is the kind of weak-willed behaviour that your siblings mocked you with,” he muttered. “Why am I even thinking about those losers? Who cares about their thoughts? They are dead now and good riddance.”

  Raphael picked up a tin at random and threw it over the aisle. Weak-willed or not, it was too late to change. He knew he shouldn’t have succumb to his desires. He’d wasted valuable energy; even worse, Raphael had emerged onto the surface, knowing full well that the newbirths were now at the city outskirts. He should be preparing himself for the attack.

  Raphael should have just eaten the woman, it would have saved a lot of trouble and none of these strange and new emotions currently surging through his body and confusing him would have ever emerged. He sighed again, picked up another can, and studied the picture, wondering if his girl would enjoy eating corned beef.

  That old woman continued to bother him. As he wandered down the aisle, Raphael could still not see any evidence of her presence. He glanced behind him and immediately spotted the gaps that he had made. Had she really eaten nothing in all the time she had been in here, was that even possible?