by Ricky Fleet
Their radio had been saved but still gave no explanation about what had occurred on that fateful day in September when a pulse was released that ignited the fire in the engines of the dead. The last transmission they had listened to had hinted that the scientists were close to a breakthrough, though at this stage what did it matter? Everyone was already gone and mankind was nearing extinction.
The first bearing to be shot impacted at the rear of the female cadaver’s skull, between patches of partly eaten scalp. The bone imploded and a huge chunk of face was torn free upon exit, splashing the lawn and resulting in the undamaged nose lying to the side of the body. Sam was morbidly fascinated at the sight until the second zombie saw him at the window and did the ‘old raise and moan’, the guaranteed response of a mindless eater when seeing a meal. Paige had noticed the behaviour and coined the phrase, and at least the subtle groan of the walking meat sacks gave them some warning. The exceptions were those that had their throats ripped out or eaten. They were either silent, or ‘whistlers’, another Paige term for those whose attempts at moaning resulted in strange tones from the torn flesh of the neck.
Sam saw that it was Perry, one of the children from the estate. He had been badly mauled, was missing one arm and could only do a poor attempt at a Nazi salute instead of the usual zombie wave. He felt an inner chill at the sight, the realisation hit him that they would likely see a lot more of the people they once knew before escaping the area. He didn’t draw the slingshot back as far as before and the bearing didn’t rupture clean through his head, instead shattering the bridge of the nose and settling within the brain, still killing the boy. Gloria had witnessed the hesitation, the haunted look in Sam’s eyes, and gave him a reassuring hug, knowing there were no words to convey her sorrow that he didn’t already feel.
“All clear. The rest of them are far enough away that we can ignore them as long as the van starts,” said Sam, pocketing his weapon and picking up the bag of blankets and assorted clothing they may have use for in the future. They gathered by the back door of their friend’s home, said their final farewells to the dwelling, and looked out into the morning light.
“Wait here, I am going to try the engine. I doubt there will be an issue but it’s always better to be safe than sorry,” Kurt told them and ran for the driver’s door, jumping in and turning the key. The van turned over immediately, it was a reliable work horse and may prove their saviour. “Let’s go!”
Honey leaped in and skidded on the metal floor. They all bundled into the rear of the vehicle and shut the doors, using the suitcases as temporary seats for comfort. John climbed through the bulkhead and sat in the passenger seat, looking out on the encroaching danger. They had been spotted and were going to be quickly surrounded if they remained parked by the house. Kurt looked over and put the van into gear. Honey climbed through and put her paws on the main console, surveying the scene and growling quietly.
“Easy girl,” Kurt soothed and scratched behind her ear.
“Let’s go and get those people,” Sarah said to the family and Kurt drove out onto the main road.
“Swing by the Land Rover, I want to see if it starts,” John told him and Kurt swung left, passing the pendulum blade and the scorched piles of corpses it had wrought. The heat had caused the clothing of the dead to ignite and the charred mounds were surrounded by blackened liquid, most likely the boiled blood and fats that had run from the bodies while the buildings had burned to the ground.
The walking Hellspawn were converging on them slowly as the van approached the abandoned Land Rover. Kurt stopped by the old fence and John climbed out closely followed by Sam with the slingshot and Gloria with the shotgun. They had time to spare but Sam wanted to try something and dropped to the ground looking for a suitable stone. They had several hundred bearings left although the larger ones were now in the minority. Finding a rounded pebble with a couple of sharp edges, he cradled it in the leather cup and aimed at the festering head that was closest. The stone struck the creature in the forehead, only managing to tear the skin and fracture the bone underneath.
“I don’t think its heavy enough,” Sam said dejectedly.
“Try this one. It’s a bit sharper around the edges. Does it feel heavier?” Gloria passed a small flint to him and he aimed again. The stone ripped through the skull and came to a stop in the brain, causing the ghoul to tumble backwards, dead.
“Yes!” Sam punched the air. “It was about the same weight but maybe the sharp edges helped. Or maybe they just need to be closer for it to work?” he questioned and looked at Gloria.
“I don’t know, you are the slingshot expert.” She smiled at him.
“I’m going to try again, test the range,” Sam explained and moved off with a fresh stone. Sarah looked nervous but Gloria winked and snapped the gun shut before releasing the safety and following him closely.
John had got the Land Rover started and stood by the door. “What do you all think about having a backup car?” John called to them.
“Why not just use our car, it has more space,” Sarah suggested, taking her eyes from Sam when it was clear Gloria had him covered.
“Because if we need to go off road, the Rover will handle the terrain better,” he answered.
“Ok, follow us closely. Dad, I was going to draw the zombies away and try and circle the estate, see if we can get close enough to the house to make a judgement,” Kurt said.
“No, I will draw the dead away on my own. If the people need to jump from a window, the van is the safer bet,” John explained and climbed back in the Land Rover. He drove forward slowly and reached the wooden fence. Revving the engine more, he pushed through and the old posts split and fell, allowing him to pull up to the side of the others.
Sam had destroyed two more of the reanimated and had judged that distance was a factor. He could get a kill shot from about double the range with a bearing over a pebble, but at least he could conserve the important ammunition where possible now. They all mounted up and followed John as he headed down the road. Driving around the zombies in their way, they pulled up at the corner of Dymoke Street and surveyed the home that sat about forty yards from the turning. The amount of agitation in the crowd was testimony to the fact that survivors were inside. They could see in the daylight that the front door was open, which meant they would have to jump to the roof of the vehicle regardless.
Sam looked to the right, and saw the burned pile of rubble that he had caused while seeking justice and retribution. The gas pipes were still burning fiercely. Filtering through the bricks and mortar, the flames fluttered and undulated like a row of Bunsen burners on a school science desk. Piles of incinerated Hellspawn lay here and there, overcome by the need to feed on the trapped murderer, but lacking the cognizance to flee the spreading heat. Guilt hit Sam; the anonymity of the darkness was gone in the morning light. He had caused people to die here. Deserving though they were, it still affected him. He wanted to talk to Braiden about it, the way he had killed HP didn’t seem to be affecting him at all, but so far they hadn’t been alone long enough to broach the subject. The blaring horn of his grandad in the Land Rover caused him to flinch, and he ducked down with the rest of the group in the van. The aim was to have the focus of the shambling dead on John at all times. Heads turned at the sound and the crowd started to advance down the road, passing between cars, and leaving gardens, eager to feed. John started to crawl down the street in the Land Rover, drawing the dead in procession like a crazed version of the Pied Piper. Trails of leaking viscera and scraps of flesh were left in their wake. The distraction was working, the area was clear of all but three corpses who had caught sight of a man, who craned his neck while trying to see what was happening from the upper window of the house. He was young, in his late twenties or early thirties, with brown hair in a short, side parted style. They could see him leaning back and communicating with someone in the room, who then pushed passed and put her head out to look. She was of a similar age, black hair tied back tightly,
giving her features a sharp, pinched look.
“Let’s go, we won’t get a better opportunity,” Kurt said with resolve and turned down the road.
“Ram them, Dad, run those buggers over,” Sam shouted and gained a disapproving look from Sarah.
“Can’t do that mate, if I hit one too hard and damage the radiator we will be sitting ducks as the engine will overheat,” Kurt explained.
“Really?” Sam was unconvinced. He had watched plenty of movies where the cars had crashed and still been fine, what was a few zombies against the large metal body of the work van?
“It’s not like the movies,” Kurt said over his shoulder, reading his mind. “I can do this though.” He coasted forward at the zombies by the house, whose attention was rapt on the leaning form from the window. The van struck the dead at less than ten miles an hour and the impact caused them to simply fall over and under the wheels. Bumping and crunching sounds echoed up through the floor as they were crushed. Kurt looked in the side mirror and the broken bodies were flopping around, immune to the pain and only wanting to eat yet unable to make any concerted movement. Their arm and leg bones were visible, the skin broken from the sharp fractures. They were no danger anymore, unless someone would be foolish enough to go near the intact heads which could still bite.
“Are you both ok? I’m Kurt,” he called out to the people in the house, waiting to reposition the vehicle until he had made a judgement on them.
“I’m Peter,” replied the man after he pushed past the glowering female who seemed unable, or unwilling to answer. “That was Debbie.”
“Don’t push me, I can answer for myself,” Debbie reprimanded Peter from the shadows. “Who are these people?”
“It’s nice to meet you, Peter,” Kurt said, trying to ignore her complaints in the background. The man smiled and it was a warm, genuine gesture.
“You too, but why are you out there with those things?” Peter asked, nervously looking up and down the street.
“I suppose you must have heard the explosion and seen the fires. That was our home. We are going to try for Thorney Barracks for safety before winter sets in fully,” Kurt explained. He could see the understanding on Peter’s face, they had watched the glowing sky and felt the vibrations of the blast.
“We wondered if you needed any help, or wanted to come with us?” Sarah asked, leaning out of the passenger window.
“We don’t have much food left, I suppose we-” Peter started to reply, but was cut short.
“Shut up, we don’t know those people, they could be dangerous,” Debbie sneered and Peter lowered his head.
“If you really are short of food it would be suicide to try and make it through the winter,” Kurt tried to reason with her and Debbie leaned out of the window.
“Do you think we are stupid? We know that no food will mean we die,” she called down.
“Don’t speak to them like that.” Peter tried to assert himself.
“Shut up, you will get us killed,” she rebuked him once again and Kurt was trying to maintain his cool.
“He didn’t mean it like that, we know you are not stupid, you couldn’t have survived this long if you were.” Sarah tried to talk woman to woman.
“Don’t patronise me, I am not a child,” Debbie answered, narrowing her eyes.
“Why do you always get like this?” Peter asked from the background. “All they want to do is help.”
“I told you to shut your mouth!” she screeched at him.
Kurt sighed and she turned her ire back to the strangers.
“Don’t you sigh at me!” Debbie shouted down at Kurt.
“Would you keep your voice down! They are attracted by the noise,” Kurt hissed back, but it was pointless.
“Who do you think you are, trying to tell me what to do?” Debbie carried on the tirade, oblivious to the danger she was drawing down upon them.
Kurt felt pity for Peter. It was bad enough to be trapped in this hellish world. However, it must have been even worse being cooped up with someone like that. Kurt knew the type; overbearing and abusive, never satisfied with whatever her henpecked partner provided. John had circled the block and was driving slowly towards them, closely followed by his pus filled entourage. They were out of time and Kurt could see no point in continuing the conversation. Debbie was still raving and he could see Peter trying to placate her.
“Good luck,” Kurt said to the pair and pulled a U turn, facing back to the estate entrance and ready to move out as soon as John reached them. The shrill voice was now ignored, as much for the awful attitude as for the danger she would pose if she went on a rant in the open. John pulled alongside, having sped up after seeing the strangers were not going to be joining them.
“What happened?” John asked.
“Can’t you hear?” Kurt said and John looked confused. Debbie had stopped shouting and had gone back into the room. “Never mind, let’s go.” Kurt started to drive forward and John prepared to follow but John tooted his horn once and they stopped. Peter was lowering himself from the window after throwing a bag down onto the lawn. Debbie was grabbing at him and attempting to stop him leaving.
“You bastard!” she screamed as she watched Peter make good his escape and drop to the ground, grabbing his bag and running toward the waiting vehicle.
Kurt was tempted to speed off and leave him there. Despite the attitude of his partner, Peter was leaving a defenceless woman to the dead or at least a slow lingering death by starvation. His foot hovered by the accelerator, ready to press it. He hesitated and the back door swung open. Instead of Peter climbing in to escape, he just threw his bag in.
“Can someone help me? We can’t stay here and she knows it, she is just stubborn.” Peter looked at them beseechingly
“Stubborn? That’s an understatement,” Kurt replied. “Peter, she has to quiet down or we will leave you both behind, I won’t have my family put at risk. Sarah, jump in the driver’s seat, we will be right back.”
“Are you sure we have time, they are coming!” Sarah shouted the urgency. The large group of shamblers were only a minute away at most.
“I don’t know, but I can’t leave her to die,” Kurt yelled as he and Peter rushed back to the house.
“Debs, please come with us, we can’t stay here,” Peter pleaded with her, but she had crossed her arms in a gesture of defiance.
“You didn’t care about me when you jumped out of the window a minute ago, why start now?” she said, sounding like a sulking child.
“I came back for you, didn’t I?” He knew their time was up, the corpses were nearly on them and Kurt had run out of patience.
“Get your fucking ass out of that window or stay here! My family are waiting and if you think I will risk them getting hurt for a pompous, jumped up bitch like you, then you are mistaken!” Kurt started to walk away. Peter grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Please wait, look,” he said to Kurt. Debbie was coming, carefully sitting on the windowsill and preparing to jump. They didn’t have time to get her turned around so that she could lower herself before leaping, at that height she would break a leg.
“Wait!” Kurt shouted and ran forward with Peter, holding their arms out to try and break her fall. “Ok, now!” Debbie landed with less than athletic grace and her skirt rode up on their arms which drew a glare of disapproval. The putrid monstrosities that reached for them focused her attention and they ran to the waiting vehicles, climbing through the open doors. Sarah pulled away and picked up speed, driving out of the estate that had been their home for thirteen years. Honey jumped down from the passenger seat to give them a warm welcome, licking all three.
“Get away from me you disgusting animal!” Debbie pushed her away forcefully.
“Don’t you touch her, don’t you hurt her.” Paige had grabbed Debbie and screamed in her face.
“Get off you psycho! Peter, aren’t you going to help me?” She was cowering at the verbal assault, unused to being the victim. Peter was making
a fuss of the dog who appreciated the friendly contact and it was Gloria that gently pulled Paige back.
“It’s ok sweetheart, no harm was done, look.” Gloria indicated Honey who was frantically licking the laughing face of their new companion.
“Oh my God, she is crazy! She attacked me!” Debbie was babbling.
“She thought you hurt her dog, that’s all,” Gloria tried to explain but Debbie was now furious with Peter, who was still fussing over the yellow furred licking machine.
“Peter, are you going to let her do that? What a poor excuse for a man,” Debbie belittled him.
“He’s kept you alive, I’d say Peter was a hero,” Kurt tried to support him.
“You shouldn’t have touched her dog, she was only trying to say hello,” Peter said, not even looking at her which made her even angrier, but one glare from Kurt was enough. He would happily stop and drop her out of the van. Her volatile attitude was bound to be a problem and he leaned in close to whisper his threat.
“If you don’t be quiet, you will be left by the side of the road, do you understand me?” Kurt met her poisonous gaze and she broke contact first. Satisfied he had made his point, he held out his hand to Peter who shook it and smiled warmly.
“Nice to meet you mate, I’m Kurt. That’s Paige, Sam, Gloria, Braiden, and Sarah, my wife.” Peter nodded to each of them. “And of course you have met Honey.” The dog barked at her new name and laid down, putting a paw onto Peters legs.
“Pleased to meet you all, I’m Peter. That’s Debbie, we are engaged,” Peter explained. Kurt thought at least the zombie apocalypse had stopped the wedding. Debbie merely looked at them all with disdain. Kurt was having none of it.
“Pleased to meet you too, Debbie.” He smiled sardonically and held out his hand once more, but she didn’t take it. He looked at Peter who gave an embarrassed shrug.
“So how did you two end up at home together when it happened?” Gloria asked, trying to defuse some of the animosity that had fallen on the group. Debbie was still ignoring them so Peter took his cue.