Freakshow

by Aline Riva

  Isolation Z: Book 3

  Freakshow

  Isolation Z Book 3: Freakshow by Aline Riva and Nathan Ward

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  A Kindle Original 2018

  Copyright © Aline Riva and Nathan Ward 2018

  Cover Design Copyright © Nathan David Ward 2018

  The Author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

  Freakshow

  Chapter 1

  They staggered along with dead eyes set on the distant buildings, the living dead in rags. They were spaced out all along the road, now and then turning their heads as old festered bites showed black and rotten against dead white skin mixed with discolouration in shades of grey and green. Their hair blew back in the wind, dull white eyes set on the huge industrial estate and the hint of life that carried on the sharp air.

  Then shots rang out, hitting the creatures with neat hits to the skull that felled them one by one as they collapsed against each other like skittles hit by a perfect strike. The shooting stopped. The pile of corpses were in a messy heap and already the flies had started to gather, buzzing above the felled zombies.

  Further up the path that led from the main road, up on the hillside, the survivors of Wolfsheer Island stood together as Marc and Greg lowered their guns.

  “Nice shooting,” Marc said, nodding to his best friend.

  Greg's gun was still smoking as he holstered it with a smile on his face. He looked down at his son.

  “Now that's how to take them out!” he said proudly, “I can't wait to teach you how to shoot when you're a bit older!”

  The white haired, white eyed boy smiled too.

  “I'm confident I can handle a gun, Daddy.”

  “He's five.”

  Greg glanced to Emma.

  “And far advanced for his age. Maybe next year, I think he'll be ready then.”

  Vicki had been looking to the gates of Circus in the distance. The severed heads of the zombies impaled on the spikes above the entrance made her guts churn.

  “Maybe he is a bit young for a gun.”

  The look in Greg's eyes grew cold as he recalled how his former lover had rejected his son.

  “That's up to me, not you,” he replied.

  Alex ran past the assembled group, Parsons shook his head as Christian swayed, still carrying the bottle and half drunk, and they both laughed at the sight of Alex running on ahead, his arms outstretched like a bird.

  “We're being led by a crazy man,” Parsons remarked.

  Christian swigged the last of the scotch and dropped the bottle on to the grass, hoping the alcohol would keep his recently treated wound pain free for at least a few more merciful hours.

  Vicki was looking into the distance, her hand above her eyes to shield her vision from the glare of the sun.

  “What is that, do you see it, way over there?”

  As she pointed to a small structure, Marc glanced over at it. The tower seemed to be made of wood and crudely constructed, no doubt a watch tower – but it looked empty at this distance.

  “I see no one,” he replied, “Let's follow the bird...Alex is leading us towards the retail park, it looks like we won't be entering Circus by the front door.”

  “Alex!” Emma called, “Slow down!”

  He lowered his arms and turned around as the sea breeze blew through his silvery hair, he had a manic grin on his face as he looked back at the others.

  “We go through the retail park, we bypass the industrial estate... they have operational factories around here. I see no vehicles... we should be clear... There's a tunnel that goes from the end of the retail park into Circus.”

  He had thankfully kept still whilst talking and now the others had caught up with him at the bottom of the slope, back on even ground.

  “How far away is the tunnel?” Marc asked.

  “Over there,” Alex pointed to the end of the park, where a building lie close to the heavy spikes that stood long and sharp and pointed outwards where impaled zombies writhed.

  “Who made the tunnel?” Emma asked.

  Alex smiled proudly.

  “I was bored and I wanted to get in and out of town... Flint barred me from accompanying supply runs, said I could get injured. He was just being kind. But I made the tunnel and did it anyway – it took me two years!”

  “Who is Flint?” said Greg.

  Alex smiled again as his eyes lit up with wonder.

  “Harvey Flint is the man who owns and runs Circus Town! He is a wonderful man who has saved us all! And he will grant your wishes! He is wise and all powerful!”

  Vicki and Marc exchanged an uncertain glance.

  “I doubt that,” Greg said as he stood there looking to the far off gates as his open coat blew back and the sea breeze felt cool on his bare chest, “Anyone who can take control of a whole town must have a lot of force behind him.”

  “He keeps us safe!” Alex said in dismay, “Believe me!”

  “I don't,” Greg told him flatly.

  Alex turned away from the slope and began to walk up the path that led to the retail park.

  “You will believe me when you meet him! Now follow me!”

  As they walked away, following Alex who went briskly up the path, Zodiac tugged on the sleeve of his father's coat.

  “What is it, son?” Greg asked.

  Zodiac giggled, and suddenly the super bright boy sounded like a five year old.

  “Alex is funny,” he said, and giggled again as Greg laughed and they walked on, following the path.

  A loud crack rang through the air. As Zodiac fell to the ground and screamed, the others all stopped, looking sharply to the tower in the distance.

  “DADDY!” Zodiac screamed, “Daddy it hurts, why Daddy, why?”

  As Greg looked down in horror at his son, he knew in that moment that nothing in his dark past could ever be as terrible as this: Zodiac was clutching at the short sleeve of his tie dyed shirt, screaming in pain as his face turned flushed from screaming and tears ran from his eyes as blood leaked from his arm and ran over his tiny fingers as he gripped at the wound. Someone had shot his son. Zodiac had taken a bullet...

  “Bastards!” Greg yelled.

  Vicki pulled Zodiac to his feet and put an arm around him. Greg was already off, his gun ready. He ran up the hillside, aiming his machine gun and letting a volley off shots fly across the landscape. As bullets started to fly back as the unseen attackers returned fire, the others ducked and ran as Greg pulled the trigger again, realising he was now out of bullets. He turned and dashed down the slope, catching up with the others as he ducked under more flying bullets to reach his son, who was sobbing as the group sheltered out of sight of the gunmen.

  “We're out of ammo,” Parsons said, “I don't think we have six more bullets between us.”

  “And my son has just been shot!” Greg yelled, turning to Zodiac as he pulled his hand away from the wound. Zodiac gave a yelp of pain and carried on crying.

  “Let Daddy see,” Greg told him as his voice trembled. He looked to Christian, who was swaying on his feet thanks to the booze.

  “How bad is it?”

  “It's okay...”

  “How can be okay?” Greg turned from his son and glared at Christian, “My son has been shot and you think it's okay?”

  “This isn't help
ing!” Emma said as more shots rang out across the landscape coming from the direction of the tower.

  “No, no,” Christian told him as his words slurred again, “Look and learn...surface flesh wound...bullet grazed him...”

  Greg turned back to his son, now the panic was subsiding he could see the wound was open, a chunk of skin had been torn away as the bullet had clipped his son's arm. He whipped a handkerchief from his pocket and held it to the wound.

  “Keep it on your arm like this,” he told him, putting pressure on the wound as the bleeding stopped but Zodiac cried harder and Greg swore he could feel his child's pain in his own arm.

  “Have you got it?” he asked.

  Zodiac nodded as his shaking hand pressed the cloth tightly against the wound. Another volley of shots rang out.

  “We're trapped,” Marc said, “As soon as we move from this spot, they'll see us and start shooting again!”

  Parsons looked across the path to the spot where the next building would block the shooter's line of vision.

  “It's too far, we won't make it...”

  Alex was twisting his hands together nervously as his gaze darted from the tower to the others.

  “They don't have twenty four hour watch here because of the spikes. We must have got unlucky... We must reach the end of the path! After that, we can proceed safely.”

  “And it's too far!” Emma said angrily, “So what's the other plan, Alex? And if you suggest we all turn into birds and fly into Circus I swear I'll take my empty gun and shove it right up your -”

  The sound of a shutter rising made them all turn towards the main shopping centre. The electric whine of the heavy shutters rising cut through the silence sharply, then a man yelled down from the floor above:

  “Ten seconds! Get inside!”

  Parsons exchanged a glance with Marc and they led the way, running for the cover of the mall as from the floor above the entrance, machine gun fire was heard, ringing out across the open land and heading in the direction of the tower. Greg picked up Zodiac and ran, Christian stumbled and Vicki caught him and dragged him onward, they were the last in as the shutters began to close.

  As the shutters finally made contact with the ground, the shaken survivors paused for breath. Zodiac was still tearful and now complaining that his arm was hurting. The others looked about the mall – it was brightly lit, the shops that lined the way left and right were all left as it had been on the day the place had been hastily abandoned, shop doors were open, here and there bags dropped in panic had been politely gathered up and left beside doorways.

  “Daddy,” Zodiac said as his voice still trembled, “There's a toy shop...”

  “And we can see that later,” Greg replied, “I need to look after your arm first.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. Christian nodded in agreement as he swayed drunkenly.

  “Use my medical bag, clean and dress the wound... you're learning, buddy...” with that, he slumped to the ground in a sitting position where he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, finally giving in to the effects of the booze.

  “When I said kill the pain I didn't mean drink the whole bottle...” Greg muttered under his breath as he turned away from Christian.

  Then the sound of footsteps echoed about the shopping centre as a man made his way down the stairs.

  “I'm not supposed to shoot at them,” he said as he reached the bottom and walked over to the others, “But when I saw they'd took a shot at a kid I had to do something... is he okay?”

  “He will be when I dress the wound,” Greg said, shaking his hand, “Thanks for saving my son.”

  “Thank you for saving all of us,” Emma added, looking to the man with gratitude.

  He smiled back at her and his blue eyes shone with warmth. He looked to be in his late thirties, he was well dressed considering the state of the world, in light blue jeans and a spotless white shirt that was open at the neck. His leather shoes were highly polished and he wore a small gold ring in his left ear, his hair was dark brown and swept back and fell into small curls at his collar.

  “I'm John Mundy,” he replied, “And this is my place – all of it. Flint gave it to me.”

  Marc looked at him doubtfully.

  “We've heard all about this amazingly generous guy... what's the real story?”

  John was only to happy to share as he led them away from the entrance and up the stairway to the second floor.

  “When the apocalypse hit, Flint was ready to take over. He had the manpower and the plan for it, too. I didn't like his methods so me and some of the local guys stood up to him. To cut a long story short they killed my men and then he demanded to meet the guy who tried to stop him taking over. When he realised it was me, a guy who used to know his late father, he cut me a deal – I get to live in peace and quiet if I stop trying to resist his plans for the town. He gave me immunity. I can travel between here and circus and back again and no one would pull a gun on me. But I'm fully expecting a visit from his guys after firing shots at the watch tower.”

  They had reached the first floor. He paused for a moment and looked back at the others.

  “But that bastard won't do shit to me – not once I tell him they shot at a kid!”

  “Exactly how much trouble will Flint give us?” As Greg asked that question, cold anger burned in his eyes as he thought of the man responsible for arming the shooters in the tower – he wanted payback. John glanced down at the polished floor and gave a heavy sigh as he shook his head, then he looked back at Greg.

  “I've lived in this town for almost twenty years. I used to do all the roof repairs on his late father's properties – he was a very wealthy guy. Flint's always been bad news, no one ever dared cross him before, but now he owns the town, he's just.... he's mad. That's all I can say. The guy is a lunatic. He's in a world of his own and god help anyone who crosses him. If I had the chance to take him out once and for all, I'd do it. But it's not that simple. Half the town hates him and the other half thinks he's their sodding messiah! He inherited the fairground and the arcades when his father died. You should see what he's turned it into now... entertainment for the new age... it makes me sick! But he'd kill you if you crossed him. I won't try to take him out alone because I know I'll wind up shot. Enough people have died. Be careful when you meet him, that's my advice.”

  Vicki ran her hand over the faint stubble that covered her head and suddenly wished her hair was longer – all she had just heard about Flint had made her want to grab at strands and tug.

  “So... maybe we just avoid the guy?” she suggested.

  “He will send his crew over to pay me a visit and we will all have to go to Circus to explain ourselves – don't worry. I'll soon let him know about the bastard who shot at your boy.”

  “At least he wouldn't approve of harming a child, then. Maybe he's not so bad after all.”

  John shook his head.

  “He doesn't have a decent bone in his body. Just don't piss him off.”

  “Thanks for the advice,” Greg said, “By the way, I'm Doctor Gregory Fitzroy -”

  “Doctor, already ?” Emma giggled and Greg shot her a look that said shut up and she giggled again and looked away, “But you can call me Greg,” he added, then he introduced the others one by one and they each shook hands with the man who had saved their lives. Just then Christian came staggering up the stairs. He reached the top, swayed and Vicki hurried over to him, putting an arm around him to steady him as she led him away from the perilous drop behind him.

  “And this is Doctor Christian Wells,” Greg added, “Who is very hungover and needs some rest.”

  “Oh that would be great, thanks!” Christian said, “Where's the bedroom?”

  John pointed to a large bedroom furniture store.

  “Any bed you like, take your pick,” he said, and Vicki led him over to the store.

  Then John glanced at the others.

  “You all look like you could use a shower and a change of cloth
ing,” he said, “If you follow me, there's a small apartment area on the top floor – it's got a shower and a small kitchen and you can get cleaned up and grab some food. I think young Zodiac should go first with his dad.”

  “Thanks,” Greg replied and he picked up the medical bag and they followed him through a side door and up a small flight of steps that led to the apartment area.

  Far beyond the gates of Circus where the zombie heads twitched on their spikes, the town looked almost unaltered by the events outside of it. There were a few reminders of the chaos as the old world had died – on a large green opposite the small town centre, a few crashed and burned out cars had stood rusting for five years. Here and there shop fronts were boarded up but some shops were open selling local produce – signs outside stated what was required for trade as money was worthless, goods were the only valuables in this place now.

  The streets were not busy, the few people who went about their day trading goods kept away from the kerb and only crossed the road with great caution when necessary – here the cars that sped along the roads were noisy and souped up and carried spikes front and back, a precautionary measure in case the undead ever managed to slip through the tight security. Gas and electricity was rationed and the town had clean running water. Thanks to the industrial area, manufacturing had carried on and life was preserved in many ways, this was almost like the old world... except for the cages with the heavy bars and the undead creatures crammed inside, they were positioned at the end of the town centre, cages set down and spaced widely apart along the street that led to the seafront, where lights blazed and music played merrily sounding like an old time fairground as the vast fair sprawled for half a mile.

  The creatures in the cages snarled and slammed against bars as they sighted the living. A woman with two young children neared the cage at the end of the street and the man in attendance waved a sharp, pointed stick in the air.