Hellspawn (Book 6): Retribution

by Fleet, Ricky

  “What’s going on? I was organising the next stage of the dig when all hell broke loose. There were gunshots and people running here, there, and everywhere.”

  “The Fowler brothers have taken over. Craig’s in deep shit.”

  “But why now? What’s brought this on? We were going to get the power back on. People were content.”

  “Hombre killed a couple of Gypsies. It turns out they were the sons of one of the most ruthless clans this side of Ireland. There are hundreds of them about ten miles away. They want blood. Everyone’s blood.”

  “Oh my God! What can we do?”

  “Nothing right now. I’m getting out of here with Clarissa before the real trouble begins.”

  “You need to come with us, Daddy.”

  Rechtman looked unsure. His eyes kept returning to the prison complex. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m taking her to the castle.”

  “Thank God. They’re good people. They wanted to try and save everyone until I explained what was going on.”

  “You’ve met them? How?”

  “They found me when I was at the end of the tunnel on a supply run a few weeks ago.”

  “You kept that quiet, Mr Rechtman.”

  “Yeah, sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It confirms what I wanted to be sure of. Grab your stuff as quick as you can. I’m going to bust the gate and get us out of here.”

  “I… I can’t.”

  “What? Why, man?”

  “I can’t leave my wife with these savages. I know you’ll keep my baby safe, but if I go, no one will be here to protect her.”

  “Daddy, please come with us. Mr Hay will save her, won’t you?” She looked into the Scotsman’s eyes with childlike expectation of heroism against all odds.

  “I’ll be coming back for her, you have my word.”

  “Then you’ll have no problem coming back for both of us,” he said with an air of finality. Dropping Clarissa and holding her at arm’s length, he knelt slightly and looked in her eyes. “I need you to go with Mr Hay, my darling. He’ll keep you safe.”

  “But I don’t want to go without you,” she sobbed.

  “You need to be brave for me. I know you’ll be safe with our friend. I’ll stay here and keep mummy safe.”

  Clarissa wanted to give vent to her anguish, but sniffed and straightened up instead. The time for being a scaredy child was over, and if her father could be a fighter, then so could she. “I understand, Daddy. I’ll be strong for you.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart. Now get moving before the others come. I’ll go back inside and try and distract anyone I see.”

  “Thanks, Jason.”

  “No. Thank you, Matt,” he said, holding out a hand.

  Shaking the cold, bony mitt with his own calloused paw, Matt felt a wave of guilt at what he’d gone along with. The conviction to sacrifice his own life in attempting to secure their freedom grew even firmer. If the worst should happen, he could meet St Peter at the pearly gates of Heaven with his head held high.

  “We’ll see you soon,” said Clarissa, holding back her tears as best as she could.

  Matt attached a section of loose chain to the gate post and tied it off around the towing eye of the hatchback. Jumping behind the wheel, he started the engine and grimaced at the noise. It seemed everything was conspiring to alert the prison of his nefarious endeavours. Waiting a few seconds for the challenging shouts, he let out a sigh of relief when everything remained still. Letting up off the clutch, he rolled forward a couple of feet until he heard the gate shear away from the frame. Any further and the tunnel would’ve been buried and they would be forced to try and make it through the southern tunnel. From there they would be forced to skirt all the way around the prison, maintaining a safe distance from the dead and the living.

  “Help me out, love,” Matt asked the young girl.

  With a strength borne of love, she pulled his arm and he rose from the low seat with a hiss of pain. It was no good, he needed a dose of painkillers. Pulling a bottle of liquid morphine from his pocket, he uncapped it and took a swig.

  “There he is!” came a furious shout from the main building. A crowd of men poured from the doorway, sprinting towards them in pursuit.

  Matt pulled Clarissa through the twisted wreckage and down the concrete steps. The underground watcher was stood in the candlelight, aiming a shotgun straight at his face.

  “Don’t you fucking move, Hay!” he spat.

  “We’re leaving, get out of my way,” Matt said, calmly stepping towards him.

  “I said don’t move!”

  “Put it down. No one needs to get hurt.”

  “I’ll shoot!” ranted the man. The barrels were shaking violently, the arms wielding the weapon trembling with nerves.

  Just a few more steps, said Matt’s inner voice. He’s been given instructions not to shoot you. That way they can hand you over to that lunatic bitch.

  “Easy now, lad. Put it down.”

  “Get back!” he yelled, flecks of spittle falling to the ground.

  Matt was two paces away. Ducking low, he used his good leg to propel himself forward. The shotgun discharged deafeningly in the confines of the tunnel. Wrestling it from his grasp, Matt wasted no time and drove the butt against the man’s skull until the bone cracked and brain oozed. The work of mere seconds had given their enemy enough time to make it most of the way across the open yard. He could see the shadows nearing the open mouth of the exit.

  “Come on now!” Matt urged, pulling Clarissa past the gory remains.

  Unlocking the solid steel gate, he pushed her through and looped the chain through the other side. Snapping the padlock in place just in time, the weight of charging men slamming into the barrier clanged raucously in the near darkness.

  “Cover your ears,” he said to Clarissa.

  Poking the shotgun through the small observation slit, Matt pulled the second trigger and the gun roared. Screams of pain and yells of rage burst from the other side of the gate.

  “You’re dead, Hay!”

  “We’ll gut you like a fish!”

  He was tempted to call out that it was far kinder than what the Gypsy queen had in store for him. Clarissa’s gently urging hand pulled him away as the men shouted orders to get bolt croppers or acetylene cutting equipment from the maintenance building.

  Standing side by side, the gnarled Scot and the young girl used their hands to guide their path through the pitch black passage. Following them along the precarious route came the taunts and threats of the prisoners.

  “I’m scared, Matt.”

  “Don’t be. We’ll be safe soon.”

  Staring at the darkness, Matt didn’t want to admit that he too felt the gnawing fear of what was coming.

  Chapter 33

  “Hey! Are you all seeing this?” shouted Braiden to the other sentries on the wall.

  “I see them,” called DB. He’d clocked their approach ever since they stepped into view on the eastern bridge.

  “Is it a trick?”

  “We’ll soon see,” DB shouted back. Looking up at the mighty tower, he called out, “Is there anything on the horizon?”

  “All clear,” Winston confirmed. “It’s just them.”

  A stocky man and a young girl were hobbling along. No, scratch that. The man was hobbling along with the aid of a crutch and the young girl under his left arm. Looking through the scope, DB could see they were both exhausted. Pain lined the shaven headed figure’s face, while the girl gritted her teeth and soldiered on.

  “What do we do?”

  “Watch and wait, mate. Let’s see what happens.”

  The ineffectual truck attack had drawn the mingling dead from the bridge to the castle walls. It was this, and this alone, which prevented them being set upon already. Clutched in the hand draped over the small child’s shoulder was a gore coated shotgun. It lolled with each step, and DB wasn’t in the least surprised when it finally fell from his grip. Ignoring the
loss of the weapon, the pair pushed on through the cleared cars on the approach road.

  “They’re going to get killed as soon as the zombies see them!” Braiden called.

  Sarah and Denise came running along the wall towards him. “Is it true? There’s a man and girl approaching?”

  “Yeah. After the gate attack I’m wondering if it’s a ruse.”

  “How do you know they’re from the prison?”

  “I don’t, not for sure. But he has the look about him, he’s a hard man. Or he was before.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Take a look.”

  Sarah took the rifle and it felt strange in her grasp. Closing one eye, she peeked through the scope and struggled to find the couple. DB took hold of the barrel and aimed it in the general direction.

  “I see them. Jesus, she can only be ten.”

  “Look at him as well.”

  Sarah shifted perspective to the pasty faced man. His massive bulk was weakening by the second and with each step his eyes glazed further. He was dead on his feet.

  “They’ll never make it!”

  “Not in that state, no.”

  “What can we do?”

  “There’s zombies covering every inch of wall. Unless we want to go outside and try and fight the whole of Arundel, there’s nothing we can do. They’ll have to turn around.”

  “It’s a child for Christ’s sake!” Denise snapped.

  “I know, ma’am. But it doesn’t mean it’s not a double cross. I had kids kill my friends in Afghanistan.”

  “What?”

  “They used our morality against us. Suicide bombs, planting IEDs in the roads, shooting us from the shadows. The Taliban knew we were under orders to engage only if fired upon. Using children made it even harder to make a judgement call.”

  “Do you really think this is the same?”

  “I know evil. I’ve fought evil. You’ve heard what the prison is. I wouldn’t put anything past them.”

  “We should help them,” Sarah decided, understanding the soldiers mistrust.

  “Shall I gear up to drop from the wall?” asked DB. He would follow whatever order the fearsome lady gave him.

  “No need. Can you direct them to the south-eastern field? Ask them to head to a small patch of stonework in the middle of it.”

  DB nodded in understanding. “You’re going to try the bedroom escape route?”

  “Let’s just pray that it’s not collapsed over the past few hundred years.”

  “And if it has?”

  “Then we find another way,” Denise replied, firmly.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  **********

  The team gathered in the royal suite. Sarah, Denise, and DB were joined by Patricia and Christina. Dr Hargis had been summoned after DB spotted signs of wet blood on the man’s lower trouser leg.

  “I’ll come with you. That fella’s probably going to need carrying back up here,” DB said.

  “I’ll come too. I can cover you while you help him, just in case you’re right about a double cross,” offered Denise.

  “Do we tell Kurt?”

  Sarah shook her head at the soldier. “Not until we’ve got them inside and secure.”

  “If we keep taking in waifs and strays, we’re going to run out of rooms,” said Denise, half seriously.

  “I know what you’re trying to say, believe me. I get that at some point we may end up with a bad egg and it could be dangerous. We’ve already had a murder, probably committed by one of the prisoners. But we can’t just turn away a child.”

  “We could take her and say no to the guy.”

  “He’s risked his life to get her here. That’s got to count for something.”

  “There’s always the canal boat. He could go there.”

  “And do what? Freeze to death?”

  “It’s better than being eaten,” DB suggested.

  Sarah glared at him until he recanted. “Are we ready?”

  “Locked and loaded,” DB replied.

  Sarah and Denise ducked slightly into the fireplace and started to climb. DB was forced to kneel to fit under the stone lintel before he could stand upright again. The smell of ancient wood fires was a pleasant fragrance compared to the decay of their enemy at the walls. Feeling a tickle in his nose from the falling soot, he sneezed loudly and it echoed up the chimney.

  “Bless you!”

  “Thank you,” he replied, rubbing at his nostrils.

  “Mind your head, son,” warned Denise. “It’s a little crowded as the chimney turns.”

  Seeing her feet disappear, DB followed and kept a respectful distance from the blackened stone. Reaching the bend, he was forced to shimmy awkwardly up the remaining six feet of flue, knees spread wide, until he reached the escape route. Denise helped him down into the tiny chamber as Sarah prepared the torches.

  “Big man’s going to have trouble getting his ass out of here.”

  Sarah looked around and reluctantly agreed. “I think Christina may need to meet us here to patch him. Or we could get Winston and some of the stronger boys to wait and help us when we get back.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Sarah shouted down and relayed the request.

  “On it, sweetie!” replied Patricia, heading off to collect the others.

  “I’ll take the lead. If anyone starts to feel woozy, or I pass out in front of you, run like hell back up here.”

  “Why would we feel woozy?”

  “A lack of oxygen, a methane build up. Could be anything.”

  “I think we’ll be ok. Can you feel that breeze?”

  DB licked a finger and held it out. Feeling the slightly chillier touch of slowly passing air, he nodded. “You’re right.”

  “I’d hoped it would be moving faster. It could mean that the tunnel is partly blocked.”

  “Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Sarah said, aiming her beam down the narrow, circular stone steps.

  DB begun the descent, twisting his body slightly to stop his broad shoulders scraping against the wall at either side. The low ceiling and small steps added to his awkward posture, and by the end of the climb down his back was complaining fiercely. Trying to manhandle the injured man up the same route was going to be tortuous. Moving through the small archway, he was able to stand upright. The moist ceiling tickled his hair where it rubbed against the stone. A rack of ancient weapons lay against one wall of the small chamber, rust covered and close to disintegrating. The wooden brackets turned to powder at his gentle touch. A small selection of torches were similarly stored, ready for anyone who required firelight for an escape. The orange flecked iron was brittle from the centuries in the damp atmosphere and crumbled no less than the rotten timber.

  “It’s fascinating how y’all used to live,” exclaimed Denise. “This place is full of so many surprises.”

  “We’ve certainly got a chequered history, that’s for sure.”

  “Kings and queens, wars and fiendish plots. I love it!”

  Leaving the small room, they pushed on into the tunnel itself. Apart from the age of the stone, it was unremarkable. Arched at the roof, it allowed DB to walk without stooping. He did an excellent impression of a feather duster, gathering hanging cobwebs as he moved. The fine, silken constructions from the secretive arachnids confirmed the movement of air. The gauzy filaments fluttered gently in the torchlight.

  “How much further?” asked Sarah.

  “Not too far. The exit is about half a mile from the castle.”

  It was easy to lose track of time and distance in the unchanging passage. One water stain looked much like another. Skittering insects were so commonplace that nearly every step resulted in an awful crunch and a very English apology to the deceased creature.

  “I love how polite you are,” Denise chuckled quietly.

  “It’s just what we do. I’ve said sorry before to people who bumped into me while they weren’t paying attention.”

  “It’s ju
st the way we do things in the UK.” DB grinned. He found that part of his culture just as bizarre, but did exactly the same without thinking.

  “We’d apologise for not apologising if we didn’t apologise all the time.”

  “Brilliant,” Denise replied.

  “I guess this is it,” DB said, coming to a halt.

  A second chamber opened up in front of them. Unlike the previous one, it was empty apart from the dried vines and creepers that had worked their way into the room. Curled around the lip of the stone at the top of a small set of steps in search of moisture, they had found nothing but darkness and death.

  “Can you hear me?” DB said to the bare, grey slab.

  “We hear you,” said the young girl.

  “Let’s get their measure before we let them in,” Sarah whispered, halting DB’s attempt to remove the large block.

  “Good idea.”

  “What’re your names?”

  “I’m Clarissa Rechtman. My friend is Mr Hay.”

  “Matt Hay,” came a weak, Scottish voice.

  “Where are you from? Why were you heading towards the castle? Can’t you hear the dead?”

  “We escaped the prison. Mr Hay said we’d be safe here. If we could get past the monsters.”

  Sarah fell back to whispers and spoke to her companions. “Rechtman? Wasn’t that the name of the guy Jodi talked to at the tunnel?”

  “I think so. Shall I run back and ask her?”

  “No, that’s ok,” said Sarah, returning to the conversation through a rock. “Clarissa, who was at the prison with you?”

  “My mummy and daddy. Daddy helped to build the tunnels that we escaped from.”

  “I thought it was familiar,” Sarah whispered.

  “If that’s the case, where’s your daddy now?” called DB.

  Sarah looked horrified for an instant, but quickly realised it was a legitimate question.

  “He’s staying at the prison to protect mummy. Bad things are happening there.”

  “And Mr Hay got you to safety? Is he one of the civilians?”

  “No, I’m a prisoner,” said the weakening Scot.

  “Your people tried to kill us! Why would we let you in?” Sarah snapped.