Gripping his axe handle Stuart took a moment to size up the enemy. He wanted to go hell for leather with an all-out attack, but knew that he had to wait. It took all his inner strength to hold himself back.
Amidst the grunts and moans the advancing creatures bore down quickly on their prey, shuffling and dragging themselves forward as fast as they could. Saliva frothed and dripped from twisted and distorted mouths that hung wide open in anticipation of desperately needed nourishment. Yellow, rotted teeth gnashed savagely as the first of the undead creatures bore down on the two young men in the middle of the road.
“Get on with it!” screamed Tyler. “Before you get us both killed.”
Shifting his weight on to his front foot, Stuart propelled his weapon towards its intended target. With a loud swish the long handle axe sliced through the air, connecting with such force it sliced clean through skin and shattered bone. The impact of the blow was so great it sent the creature flying backwards through the air, the attacking beast literally losing its head. Two more of the ghastly undead lunged at him. Stuart made quick work of them too, brittle bone crumpling as he swung with precision and power.
Tyler joined in the fight, striking out wildly at everything in front of him. His two hatchets bit and tore as they buried themselves deep into rotted flesh, dismembering each of the undead savages that came for him. His pace was frantic yet unlike his friend, he fought messy. What he had gained in speed, he lost in accuracy, poise and finesse and much of his effort was spent mopping up after himself.
“Behind you!”
Trusting in his friend’s advice Tyler heeded the call and immediately swung around without looking. In his haste he overbalanced as he struck out wildly and fell to the ground. As he lay sprawled on the road the attacking creature that lunged for him tripped over his feet and toppled on top of him. Saliva dripped from its lips and rotted teeth snapped at his face as it desperately tried to feed. The pungent odor of death reeked on its breath.
“Dude, you okay?”
“Kinda,” Tyler said, pushing with all his might. “Get… the… fuck… off me!” There was an air of determination in his voice as he pushed the creature off him. Righting himself he slammed a boot into his attacker’s throat pinning it to the ground, then twirled his hatchets in readiness. “Lights out motherfucker!” With a loud crack the creature’s skull split in two sending blood splattering all over Tyler’s shirt.
Together the two young men made short work of the remaining creatures that had descended upon them from the shadows. Blood, guts and gore spilled on to the bitumen turning the street a dark shade of crimson, reddish puddles began to glisten in the sunlight.
Eventually only one creature remained, a lone reanimated man dressed in a tattered grey suit with a patterned tie that hung loosely around his neck. All the way down the tie and button line of his white business shirt was covered in dried blood, evidence of previous feeding frenzies.
“What do you think?” asked Stuart, eyeing the creature carefully.
Tyler removed his helmet. Placing a hand to his chin and thought for a moment. “Accountant perhaps?”
“Nah, I reckon this guy one had a personality.”
Laughter.
Moaning.
The two boys reveled in this game, playing it often when they came across a stray creature – guessing the undead’s occupation. It was a silly game, but it helped relieve the boredom and the loser was resigned to carrying the winners backpack all the way back to camp. That was the big bonus.
“Umm, how about an office manager then?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Belching out a loud moan, the undead man in the suit staggered forward, oblivious to all the fuss.
“Or perhaps a car salesman?”
“Ha! Your brother-in-law will hate you for that.”
“Tell someone who cares, he’s an arsehole anyway.”
Stuart laughed loudly before raising his axe and swinging hard he finished the creature off with a mighty blow. Blood seeped over the necktie as the man’s head left his body, clattering to the ground, bouncing and rolling its way down the street. Kneeling at the corpse he rifled through the dead man’s pockets, pulling out a brown leather wallet. He thumbed through the credit and I.D. cards, tossing them aside until he found what he was looking for. “Ah… here we go.”
Tyler gave an air drum roll with invisible sticks.
“Swipe card for Hawthorn Accounting.” Tossing the card aside he added with a sigh, “Not looking good for me is it.”
A broad smile filled Tyler’s young face.
“And….,” he paused for added effect, “a bloody driver’s license for Michael Hawthorn.”
“Yes!” Tyler fist pumped the air in celebration, he had won and done so with style.
“Got it on your first guess. Nice work bud.”
Glancing around them all the two boys could see were dead bodies lying in pools of blood everywhere. Dismembered and defeated creatures sprawled in twisted contorted positions all across the road. The scene resembled that of an abattoir floor.
“How is it,” asked Stuart inquisitively, “that we have this many of these mother-fucking savages on our street right now?”
“I have no idea mate,” replied Tyler, removing his backpack and handing it to his friend. “It’s not normal.”
“I know, we own this fucking neighborhood man. It’s a bit of a worry that we have to mop up a herd of these things so close to home.”
Ever since the first time these corpse-like entities entered their lives, survivors at the Armstrong compound had come up with a number of terms to describe the size of each group they encountered. A small group of less than a dozen was referred to as a pack with more, up to fifty labeled a herd. Creatures that congregated with greater numbers were referred to as a swarm, which could easily number well into the hundreds. When confronted by such a big group as this, avoidance was the safest course of action.
Survival was tough back in the early days of the new world, brutal and oftentimes savage. During this time herds and swarms had been common, pouring across the intersection out the front of the Armstrong compound as often as several times a week. Due to the group’s efforts to cull extensively in the surrounding neighborhood, creature numbers in this part of the city had diminished considerably. As a result, they had not seen a swarm for months. The only excitement that came their way these days were occasional random strays that were easy enough to pick off and deal with.
A strange feeling suddenly came over Tyler. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was precisely, a gut feeling that told him something was not right. It was as though they were being watched from somewhere deep in the shadows. Creatures would not do that, he was well aware that they would attack instinctively… this was something else and Tyler knew it.
“You ok mate?” asked Stuart, sensing his friend’s uneasiness.
“Let’s just go,” replied Tyler, still wearing a concerned look on his face as he scoured the landscape one final time for movement. “We need get back and tell the others about this lot.” Swapping his hatchets for his rifle he turned and set off in the direction of home. Stuart lumbered after him, weighed down by the extra backpack on his shoulders.
Jon had grown anxious over the past hour and was now pacing the veranda desperately waiting for his son to return home. Given the dangers that lurked beyond their neighborhood, seldom was anyone allowed to leave the compound for more than a day. He felt a twinge of guilt having approved Tyler and Stuart to venture out on a rare overnight excursion into the city. Despite the importance of their recon mission to determine the threat of creatures that lay in the outer sectors, he knew that he had put his son in direct danger.
In order to take his mind off things Jon decided to conduct a perimeter walk. He was a very thorough individual, insisting on regular meticulous checks on the property to maintain the safety of everyone in the compound. Rattling the two large gates at the front of the house he was satisfied that they
were secure. Turning on his heels he headed for the rear of the property, strolling past the large lock-up garage as he walked along the cobblestone path.
Jon and Olivia had lived in this location since their eldest child was born, twenty six-years ago. It was certainly an impressive family home boasting five bedrooms, a spacious modern kitchen and huge lounge room, complete with a bar and open fire. The upstairs loft which had the best view over the intersection outside, now served as an additional bedroom.
Crawling vines and creepers covered the ten foot high concrete walls that enclosed the backyard. Initially built for privacy the huge fence now served as an impenetrable barrier, protecting the residents from any threat that might come from neighboring properties. In a rear corner of the compound there was a sleep-out and a tool shed, whilst a chicken coup had been erected in the other corner. Filling a lot of the empty space was a large market garden which boasted an array of fresh vegetables and fruit.
The main feature out back was the kidney shaped swimming pool which was surrounded by an expansive wooden deck. Despite the fun times the family had spent here in the summer months, Jon and Olivia had threatened to remove the pool many times as their children had never lifted a finger to help keep it clean. As he stood looking at the algae and green sludge knee-deep at the bottom, Jon wished he had followed through with the threat.
“Dad!” came a female voice from inside the house.
No sooner had Jon spun around to look, the back door burst wide open, clattering loudly against the timber wall. A pretty red-haired woman stepped through the opening. She was well-groomed, smartly and colorfully dressed, looking every bit out of place against the greying backdrop of the wastelands that surrounded her.
“They’re back,” the young woman said, with excitement in her voice.
“Thanks Rebecca,” Jon said, acknowledging her with a nod.
A feeling of relief washed over Jon as he watched his daughter turn and disappeared back inside. A gigantic smile spread across his face as he made his way to the gate to greet his son.
In the hours that followed Tyler and Stuart held court at the compound, sharing every detail of their overnight excursion into the city. Seated before them in the lounge the rest of the Armstrong group were captivated by their every word. It had been quite some time since anyone had ventured that far past the gates, let alone beyond the suburb so there was quite some hunger for news.
Emptying the first backpack the two young men took pleasure in revealing their haul, their uncontainable boyish grins evident for everyone to see. Chocolate bars, sweets, biscuits and packaged food spilled to the floor, cans of fruit, baked beans, spaghetti and soft drink rolled over the carpet. Even though the group was not short of food they never turned down extra supplies, especially treats.
Tyler tipped up his pack and shook it violently. With a loud clatter knives, bayonets, a short sword, boxes of ammunition and an assortment of other weapons tumbled to the floor. He then pulled out items of clothing including socks, gloves, beanies, men’s underwear and several pairs of sunglasses.
“Nice score bro!”
Tyler turned to acknowledge his older brother. “Thanks Josh. We found this army surplus store over on the West Side. It had pretty much been cleaned out, but we still managed to get a few goodies.”
Josh was six years older and a few inches taller than his sibling. He was a good-looking, well presented sporty-type, with short brown hair and big green eyes. When he was younger he had been a successful athlete, even trying out for the National Decathlon team at one time. Destined for greatness his ill-discipline and promiscuity cost him his place on the squad. Breaking team rules by engaging in a sexual affair with a female athlete was all it took to dash his hopes and dreams forever. This was not to be the first time an indiscretion such as this would cost him a shot at success.
When Josh was twenty he borrowed money from his parents to open a sports store and with his father’s guidance it quickly grew into a successful business venture. This afforded him the luxury of disposable income and he spent his hard earned money on having a good time, living life to the full. Fast times and faster women. Any relationship that lasted longer than a few months he deemed to be long-term.
This hedonic lifestyle also appealed to Tyler, who idolized his older brother. Try as he might to emulate him, as a poor college student with little or no income, even less charm and personality, he failed miserably to live up to his brother’s lofty reputation. Living in his brother’s shadow was not that bad, for they had a developed a strong bond along the way.
“Any trouble out there?” asked Jon.
“Yeah,” replied Tyler. “We ran into a herd on our way back.”
Jon stared intently at his son, wrinkles furrowing on his brow. “Where abouts?” he asked, suspiciously.
“Bottom end of St. George.”
The room fell silent.
“Really?” Jon stood up, rubbing his chin as he spoke. “How many?”
“No more than twenty maybe twenty-five?” Tyler turned to Stuart who nodded to verify the number. Stuart swallowed, he had always been intimidated by his friend’s father.
“Were there more?”
“Not that we could tell. They came at us from inside the buildings, which was a bit odd. It was as if they were waiting for us.” Tyler’s comment was lost on the others, who were all busying their minds on the prospect of more creatures in the neighborhood.
“I thought we had cleared that whole sector,’ Jon said, chewing on his lip. He lost himself in thought for a moment. “Alright, just to be safe we should reset the perimeter alarm tonight, I don’t want to take any chances.”
Heads nodded around the room.
“I’ll head out and check them soon,” said Josh.
“In the meantime,” interrupted Olivia, “let’s put dinner on. I think we all need a drink as well.” She summoned Rebecca to join her in the kitchen.
Darkness fell. Candlelight flickered brightly, sending shadows dancing across the wallpaper on the lounge walls of the Armstrong house. Glasses clinked, wine was sipped, conversation ensued. The meal was followed by a feast of chocolate courtesy of the haul brought in by the two boys, leaving everyone feeling quite replete.
As Jon fed another log on to the fire flames leapt higher, illuminating and warming the room further. Conversation continued inside the house for another hour or so until, eventually tiredness swept over them all and each of the residents retired for the evening. After what the two boys had shared that afternoon, thoughts of what the dangers that may be looming beyond the gates were at the forefront of many of their minds as they settled for the night. One by one the candles and lamps were extinguished, darkness came over the compound.
Olivia finished clearing the table, tidied up the dishes and put everything away in its rightful place in the kitchen. She packed away the additional food the two boys had brought home with them, then fussed for a while longer before making her way down the hallway to the master bedroom. As the cool night air touched her skin, she shivered.
The fire continued to glow as the last embers burned brightly.
2
Dawn Strike
Screeching on its rusty hinges the front door on the porch burst open, sending it clattering loudly against the façade of the house. Through the doorway stepped two steel-capped Colorado boots stepped out onto the wooden veranda, boards creaking underfoot. Placing a hand over his eyebrows to shielded himself from the glare Jon squinted into the morning sun, his eyes darting in all directions.
Despite a magnificent day having dawned and a clear deep blue sky stretching as far as he could see, a certain uneasiness came over him. Something was out of place, just not quite right – he could feel it in his gut. He waited, staring out on to the road with a pensive look on his face, trusting in his intuition.
Listened close. He was positive he had heard something. Seen something. Jon’s gut feelings more often than not led to a happening and he had a pretty good fe
eling that something was amiss on the road today.
Despite how he felt nothing stirred ahead of him on the intersection, or beyond. He waited for a few minutes and then upon hearing nothing further he sighed, turned slowly to head back inside. The tall brown-haired man had only taken two steps before a ghastly sound stopped him dead in his tracks. Jon’s right eye began to twitch as he chewed on his lower lip – he had been right all along!
Reverberating right across the street came a low sickening moan, sending a shiver down Jon Armstrong’s spine, chilling him to the bone. He knew what it meant and braced himself for what was to follow. The sound came again, louder this time, distinct and easily identifiable. Suddenly tin cans attached to the wires on the veranda began to rattle and clank wildly as the perimeter alarm went off. Up ahead in the distance shapes and shadows began to move on the road.
Josh woke with a start. In a daze he jumped out of bed responding to the alarm and staggered wearily down the hallway, jumping up and down as he walked, pulling up his jeans and dressing himself. Second later he fell through the front door joining his father on the veranda.
“What have we got?” he asked with a yawn.
“Not sure yet, but we’ve definitely got company.”
Wiping the sleep from his eyes Josh stretched, opened his mouth wide and yawned loudly, growling like an angry grizzly bear. Lifting his head he then turned his attention to the road. He was alert enough now to fully comprehend what was happening and he too now saw the shapes on the road.
“How many do you reckon?” Josh asked inquisitively.
Jon had acquired many valuable skills over his lifetime, many new ones since the world turned. He had learned to familiarize himself with the various sounds of the city, identifying movement and the many threats that lurked beyond the compound. When it came to the undead he had become somewhat of an expert at predicting numbers, something he had to do in order to protect those he loved.
Dark of Dawn 4Horsemen: Book one in the Dark of Dawn Series Page 2