Dark of Dawn 4Horsemen: Book one in the Dark of Dawn Series

by Sebastien Woolf

  Crunch!

  Bodies went flying in all directions. Billy swung again. Connected flush. Bones cracked, skulls disintegrated. It was an unfair fight. Nothing on the road that day stood a chance against the brute force of the large Scotsman. Together he and Siobhan pushed on, relentlessly smashing their way through the horde.

  Behind them the Armstrong group were once again fearless in battle. Colin, wielding his trusty meat cleavers was his usual violent and destructive self. He was a powerful man, tough, rugged, strong and totally fearless. Tightly gripping the handles of his favored weapons, the pugnacious butcher swung ferociously. The sharp square blades bit hard on impact, carving through bone and extinguishing life. In a savage and sustained onslaught Colin’s body count grew rapidly. He was truly a violent storm, wreaking havoc.

  Ping!

  Eric followed through with yet another perfect strike. So precise was the blow that it lifted the head clean off the shoulders of an advancing creature, sending it rolling down the street. The bloodied baseball bat covered in barbed wire rested on his shoulder, glistening in the warm afternoon sun. Tugging at the brim he readjusted his NY Yankees cap. Reloaded, pulling the bat back into position, then swung again.

  Ping!

  With expert timing Gerard picked off the undead one by one. For this fight the mild-mannered former accountant had opted to use a pitching wedge, preferring the greater elevation and weight of this club head as opposed to the others in his makeshift quiver. It also generated more of a slice upon impact. He was not a strong man, not by any stretch, but he possessed a very clever intellect. Strategy was preferred over ferocity, control over brutality. By applying common sense and guile to his combat, the shrewd middle-age man’s systematic approach was once again paying dividends.

  Up ahead another wave of undead attackers crashed upon the group. Tyler snarled as he met the creatures head-on, twirling his hatchets in his fingers between blows. Something had changed within him. Consumed by dark thoughts and battling the bitterness and rage that churned him up inside, he took a cold, methodical approach to killing the undead. He almost seemed to revel in the slaughter, becoming more energized with each encounter. He walked a very fine line between bravery and sadism, blurring boundaries with each creature he put to death. No-one noticed anything out of the ordinary. They were all far too consumed with their own survival.

  Despite their best efforts, it was relatively slow going. Inching forward the group had always been conscious of the need to protect the more vulnerable amongst them. Positioned within the inner perimeter terrified, defenseless survivors huddled closely together.

  The battle against the undead at the Docklands was waged on four fronts. Siobhan, Tyler and the Armstrong group blazed a trail at the front, guiding them all on through the mayhem. Swinging his enormous sledgehammer Billy had moved to the left flank to lead his group, repelling attack after attack. Vincent and the Oasis contingent did the same to the right.

  Josh finally joined the fight. He had hung back, joining the Goth Squad to help close ranks at the rear. Behind them, the bulk of the undead creatures that had been unleashed that afternoon, began to stir. Most had congregated at the gas station, spilling all over the forecourt. They stretched all the way down the wide street down towards the docks.

  “Move people!” yelled Josh, urging those in front on.

  Feet shuffled.

  Raven spied the incoming creatures that were streaming towards them. She likened the movements of the feral beasts to a snake that was uncoiling in readiness to strike as it slithered ominously down the road. Quickly she assessed the risk. The threat was very much real and bearing down on them rapidly from behind.

  Marshaling her troops Raven set up a strong defensive line at the rear. The Goth Squad were all heavily armed, having taken every weapon they could carry from the S.W.A.T. van earlier. Their plan was now simple. Using their extensive firepower they would thin out the mass of undead savages that were surging towards them. This would effectively cut off the head of the snake. By reducing the threat to the rear, the group would be under less pressure. They would be free to focus on clearing the way ahead.

  That was the plan anyway.

  Dominique replaced the ammunition cartridge to the Colt M4A1 assault rifle she was carrying. Her bright red hair ablaze with color, stood out against the the bleak backdrop of the Docklands. Adjusting the sling over her shoulder she took rough aim, depressed the trigger and opened fire. The recoil caused her arms to vibrate. Her entire body shook.

  Bullets tore through the undead. Limbs flailed in all directions, giving the impression that those hit had started performing as some kind of macabre flash mob. Rotted flesh flaked. Brittle bones broke. In no time at all the gruesome mob were cut to shreds.

  Dominique continued to feed her hungry weapon. It did not take her long to extinguish all her ammunition. Empty shell casings littered her feet. The rifle whirred, clicked then fell silent.

  “Nice work Dom,” complimented Raven. She was conscious not to call her by her alias, ‘Raccoon’. The tough, yet incredibly striking German girl loathed the nickname she had been given and she thought the whole concept was actually quite ridiculous. There was a certain hardness about her that hid something from the world.

  Unclipping the strap attached to her weapon Dominique discarded the rifle, it clattered to the ground loudly. From within her backpack she pulled out two UZI pistols. With a wry smile she let rip. Firing at such a rapid rate she struggled to maintain any semblance of accuracy as she unleashed hell on the next wave of creatures. She took stock when reloading additional twenty round magazines in each pistol. Her second barrage did the trick.

  Undeterred by their impending doom the undead kept coming. Through bloodshot eyes that were fused wide open the creatures zeroed in on their prey. Shuffling, stumbling and crawling towards the fleeting survivors.

  Victoria rolled four hand grenades across the bitumen. Carnage followed. Those creatures at ground zero were simply torn apart, exploding into a million pieces. Blood, bone, body parts and gore drizzled from the sky for a full minute. The road turned a dark shade of crimson.

  A bony, shoeless foot stepped into a puddle of the sticky red goo sending blood splashing high into the air. The creature stopped, propped and eyed the group of living beings ahead of him. Shifting his head from side to side he sniffed. Searched. Identifying a target he started to shuffle forward. A piece of brain tissue squelched between his toes.

  Bodies fell all around him as the massacre continued. Still, he pressed on oblivious to the slaughter, the danger being somewhat incomprehensible to him. Locking in on his target he surged ahead. Raised his arms as he drew near, reaching forward desperately with thin, bony hands. Grasping.

  Clunk!

  Amy appeared out of nowhere. She struck out with whirring nunchucks, which she wielded with deadly accuracy and skill. Bone shattered at the wrist as the creature’s hand was severed clean off. She sidestepped to avoid getting the blood splatter on her bright blue dress, which was nothing but a blur to the undead male. Amy moved with incredible speed and dexterity. Another blow took off the other hand. A spinning roundhouse kick connected flush on the creature’s chest, sending it reeling backwards.

  “Squirrel! Get down!” came a voice from behind her.

  Amy hit the deck, landing on toes and fingertips. She froze in that pose.

  A loud, single gunshot rang out. Aleisha’s right arm flinched as her Magnum .45 handgun recoiled. The bullet found its mark, entering the creature’s skull just above the right eye. All the damage was done on exit, as the hollow-point round simply disintegrated the back of the skull.

  There was no time for pleasantries. Amy swept her leg, tripping another creature that was lunging for her. Leaping to her feet she spun her nunchucks through the chain, landing a crushing fatal blow as her would-be-attacker lay on the ground.

  Another loud gunshot cracked nearby. Then another. Aleisha was picking off the undead one by one with her
large handguns. Both her arms recoiled as she fired each weapon. Despite this, each shot was deadly accurate.

  At last they were making good time, pushing forward at a steady rate. Siobhan, Colin and Tyler worked tirelessly to cut a swathe through the horde ahead of them. Eventually open spaces began to appear before them. Then they ran.

  Weaving their way through the Docklands they picked off stray creatures as they came upon them. Once they were at what they all deemed to be a safe distance from their pursuers, they stopped to catch their breath. Positioning themselves in the middle of a wide intersection that provided them with unimpeded views in all directions, they regrouped. Took stock.

  “Is everyone ok?” Jon asked, panting.

  “We’re all good,” replied Billy.

  “Us too,” said Vincent.

  Raven gave a double thumbs up to indicate all was good with her band of sisters. She was grateful that they she and her girls had come through the other side completely unscathed, without even a scratch in fact.

  As each contingent checked in, Jon felt a sense of relief. No lives had been lost. Injuries were minimal. It appeared as though the large group had escaped this horrific afternoon’s events relatively unscathed. Given what they had just endured, it all seemed somewhat of a miracle.

  “Take a breather, all of you. It has been a tough day. We will head off when everyone is up to it. We should be safe enough here for the time being, but I’d prefer it if we set up a perimeter as a precaution.”

  Josh blinked. Felt a burn. Lifting his shirt he swept the perspiration from his brow. Sweat had run down into his eyes and they stung as he rubbed them. Battling so hard for so long had taken its toll. Around him people everywhere were doubled over, clutching at their hips. Many had simply collapsed to the ground from exhaustion. They rested, rehydrated and recounted the events of the day.

  Zoe flopped at Siobhan’s feet. Leaned back. Took a swig from her water bottle. Burped. Looked up and giggled. “Whoops,” she said with a cute smile.

  Siobhan laughed. Crossing her legs she took a seat on the road next to her girlfriend. The two of them nattered to themselves quietly.

  “So, how far are we from the docks?” Josh asked Raven.

  “I’m not a hundy percent sure mate,” Danni replied. She stood for a moment stroking her long dark ponytail, as if it were a pet snake. Looking around for her scout she signaled for Amy to join them.

  “About four blocks,” Squirrel said, anticipating the question.

  “Sweet.” Raven tugged at her hair.

  “It’s a straight run to the waterfront from here. It should take us about half an hour or so, depending on traffic.” Despite her witty remark, she did not change her deadpan expression.

  Out of the corner of his eye that still burned, Josh caught sight of a small huddle of people off to his left. There was something about their reactions that concerned him. Raven and Squirrel saw it too. The three of them headed over to check it out.

  Beth was crouched over a man, who lay motionless in the middle of the road. Vincent was there at the huddle as well. Lily too. As more people arrived it became apparent that something was definitely amiss. As Josh drew near, his suspicions were confirmed.

  He immediately recognized the man on the ground. It was Bryan, the head of security at the Oasis group – the Shadowmen. He was Vincent’s right hand man.

  Beth buried her head in her hands. She was visibly distraught. Before he could say anything Vincent grabbed Josh by the arm and led him to one side. “He’s lost a lot of blood,” there was sadness in his voice. “There’s nothing we can do for him now.”

  “What happened?” Josh inquired.

  “Shhh..,” Vincent squeezed Josh’s arm as he spoke. Lowering his voice he explained. “He’s been bitten. We have to keep it quiet. We don’t want any more panic today, people have had about all they can handle don’t you think?”

  Josh turned pale. Nodded in silent agreement.

  “We don’t know when, or even how it happened. All we know is that he dropped like a stone a few minutes ago. When Beth checked him she found bite marks on his leg.”

  “Fuck! He was such a good man too.”

  “He was.” Vincent blinked slowly. Swallowed his emotion. “The best, but he’s gone. We cannot save him, not now.”

  “Where is he at?”

  “Oh, it won’t be long now. The infection is spreading fast. As you know, everyone is different. Some go quickly, some slow. Looking at him, I think he will probably turn within the next ten minutes, maybe less.”

  “Shit! That soon.”

  Vincent tightened his grip on Josh’s arm. “There will be some hysteria when he goes, so it might be best to move everyone out sooner than anticipated.”

  “Yeah. I agree.” Josh placed a hand on Vincent’s shoulder. “I am truly sorry for you mate. It is such a screwed up world we live in.”

  Vincent nodded slowly. The two men shook hands. Josh motioned with his head for Raven and Squirrel to follow him. He explained the situation to them as they walked back to the main group.

  As the time for action drew near Vincent became filled with dread. Death had become an ever present part of daily life, but even that brief moment of realism did little to make what he had to do any easier. Losing someone close was, as it had always been, emotionally confronting.

  Bryan coughed. The drool that had formed in the corner of his mouth frothed. His body then went limp, completely motionless. Beth continued to sob quietly. The intersection fell silent.

  Vincent withdrew his knife. His heart grew heavy. This was not the first time he had to take the life of a close friend, nor will it be the last. It was still one of the most difficult things he had ever had to do. A low grumbling came from deep within Bryan’s throat. His bloodshot eyes burst open, fused wide. He moaned, fingers twitched. Baring his teeth he snarled. A thick layer of saliva bubbled and ran down from the corner of his mouth. He had turned.

  Neither man recognized the other anymore. Vincent raised the knife in his shaking hands to his friend’s forehead. Bryan gashed his teeth together, growled like a dog. Prepared to bite.

  “I’m so sorry,” Vincent said, his voice filled with sorrow. Plunging the knife deep into Bryan’s skull he ended it all abruptly. An emptiness washed over him.

  Beth wailed. Lily consoled her.

  Vincent sheathed his knife. With a very heavy heart he led his people back to the main group. A somber mood accompanied them. Everyone felt the loss, moments like these made them all sit up and take notice. The threat was very real. There was not one among them who did not think that what happened to Bryan could quite easily happen to them.

  The road was slow that afternoon. It had been another very long day for the survivors. The Docklands had fallen silent, all around it was like a ghost town. As the group trudged on the sound of their footsteps echoed softly through the deserted landscape.

  Tyler drifted back into the pack, taking up position next to his brother-in-law. The two men walked in-step in silence for a few minutes, neither quite ready to break the ice. Something had come over the youngest of the Armstrong siblings, compelling him to engage with the man whom he had loathed for so long. Things had changed… circumstances, events, feelings. He felt that he had to do this.

  Bracing himself, Eric anticipated some smarmy comment, or at worse a tirade of abuse. Tyler never had a good word to say about him, but for that matter neither did he in return. The two men had been at loggerheads in their childish dispute for what felt like an eternity to them and to others around them.

  Tyler coughed, eventually, breaking the deadlock.

  “You fought well out there today,” he said, sounding every bit genuine.

  Eric raised an eyebrow, questioning Tyler’s motive. It was completely out of character for him to utter even a single word to him, let alone pass a compliment. Nothing came to him however, so he continued to walk on in silence, totally bewildered.

  “Honestly, I know we have had
our differences in the past, but I think for the good of everyone we should bury the hatchet don’t you think?”

  Again Eric found himself lost for words. The only burying of any hatchet he was aware of, was Tyler’s previous deep seated urge to embed one deep into his skull. As he looked up Rebecca’s smile caused him to smile back, even though all he could manage was little more than a smirk. He was still skeptical.

  “We’ve all had to do some tough things out here. Bad things.” Memories of the museum and then the little girl behind the hedge came to Tyler. He sighed. “Life’s been shit for quite a while. A lot of us have had to grow up and I just wanted to say,” he paused, this was not easy for him, “… we should just patch shit up and stop the crap yeah?”

  “Ummm… ”

  “Eric!” Rebecca deliberately raised the inflection at the end of his name as she said it aloud. “Olive branch darling.”

  “I know,” Eric replied. Turning to Tyler he nodded. “Okay, deal. No more crap. As long as you mean what you say.”

  “Yeah man, I do. You did some brave things out there today and a lot of people owe their lives to you. There’s no reason for us to keep this shit going between us, far too many other important things for us to worry about now.”

  A short silence ensued as they continued on their way through the Docklands. As awkward as it was for all concerned, there was a strange calm that struck them at that moment – an understanding that all was right in the world… their world.

  “Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say. I gotta head back.” With that, Tyler picked up his pace and set off for the front of the line.

  Eric, for the first time in a long time felt awash with pride. All his efforts to prove himself to the group had not been in vein. A pep in his step caused him to strut as he walked on, unable to hide how he felt inside.

  Minutes later Jon joined his two sons at the head of the procession. “Lads,” he said, with a smile.

  “Hey dad,” replied Josh.

  “Pops,” Tyler said, with a nod of his head.