Zombie Slaver (Zombie Botnet Book 4)

by Al K. Line

  She was swearing at them, promising to tear their fucking heads off and feed them to the zombies. She didn't stop kicking and screaming until she got a whack over the head by her captor, a man almost as large as Al, a big bushy beard and camouflage gear making him look like a parody of the more friendly giant next to Kyle.

  The woman went limp for a second, then came to, quieter now, staring around wildly, hunting for any means of escape possible, but realizing the futility of it all when surrounded on all sides by less than kind men. Mostly. Kyle could see a few women mixed in with the group, just as rough looking, stern faces uncaring at the treatment doled out to the infected or the young woman being treated so badly.

  From what Kyle could tell there was a heated discussion about how much the girl was worth, one side gesturing at the line of infected seemingly wanting them all. The negotiator from the other side appearing to offer about half of his cargo.

  The owner of the girl gave one hefty breast a firm squeeze, then ripped her already tattered clothes away from her, revealing large well formed breasts — grime covered and already badly bruised. An argument broke out, the owners of the zombies pointing at her crotch. The slave trader merely shrugged, but the words didn't carry so it was impossible to know what was being said. One of the women in the group of zombie owners came forward, long dark hair, shiny as if just washed, flying around her head, caught in the strong breeze. She joined the argument, pointing at the captive, anger on her face, spittle taken to the wind as she shouted.

  It carried on in that vein for some time, Kyle becoming increasingly concerned about the depths of depravity man had sunk to so quickly. He wondered exactly how the hell they were going to go up against so many clearly well armed men and women, and save the living, and probably the infected too. It wasn't a decision that was up for debate. Kyle wasn't questioning that they would attempt rescue, he was merely worried that they may end up just as degraded as the poor girl. He guessed rightly that they wouldn't be worth quite as much as she so evidently was.

  What was hard to understand was the reason why the infected were now clearly so valuable a commodity, it would take some figuring out that was for sure. And how many other people were in the back of the van the girl had been dragged from? Was she a lone captive? Or were there any number of other people caught? Now apparently nothing more than play things to be discarded or traded for who knew what price in a world that had depressingly not improved in the many months since the botnet went live.

  "I think we better be going," said Kyle. "We need to warn Ven first and then we need to come up with a plan. A really, really good plan. Some of those men are the ones from the funfair, Ven was right that they were up to no good. I just didn't think it would be anything quite as sick as this."

  Al just nodded, he didn't need to speak. There was no question that they would be saving the young woman, none at all.

  "Let us be going Kyle, but we must be back soon."

  Just as they turned to leave Kyle caught a flash of a familiar item, and turned back to see something that put any doubt out of his mind that these were people that could be reasoned with in any way at all. These were definitely not the kind of people you wanted as your next door neighbors.

  A woman in her fifties was dragged out of the van, then pulled kicking and screaming up to the younger woman. One of her captors pulled a tablet out of his pocket, turned his head away and fumbled with the touch screen, tapping it as if this was not the first time he had performed such an action. The two men holding onto the older woman grabbed her tight, making her totally immobile. They turned their heads away to the side and the man with the tablet approached. He grabbed her head in a large hand and peeled back a tightly shut eyelid, shoving the tablet right in front of her. She struggled and kicked, screamed for mercy, but was held put by her captors.

  A few seconds later she was infected, thrashing on the ground then trying to devour the slavers. They held her however madly she thrashed, chained her and added her to the line. The big man turned to the woman, shouted at her. She shook her head and quietened down. Seemingly threatened with the same fate unless she did as she was told. She hung her head, dirty blond hair falling across her tear streaked face.

  "C'mon Al, we need to get our act together, and quick. These people are out of their fucking minds."

  You Rang?

  Ven came out of the bus to put some life back into the coals of the fire, the guys had been gone for a while and there was no doubt that they would want something to eat when they returned. Didn't they always. Walking back from the barbecue area she heard a squelch then the kicking of leaves, a large shower of soggy brown rising high in the air.

  Alfred was approaching, walking nonchalantly, kicking up the leaves in high arcs with his feet as he approached, just like a little kid playing in puddles, enjoying himself immensely, even though he knew he had serious business to attend to very soon.

  "Move one more step and I will blow your fucking brains out," said Ven, hiding Tomas behind her back.

  "With what?" snarled Alfred, then he smirked. "Ooh, I wonder where the baby could be. I can't seem to see him anywhere. Now, where is he?" He looked around, raising a hand to above his eyes like the captain of a ship searching for pirates.

  Ven fiddled around for the gun in her holster, then remembered it wasn't there any more. Fucking pikies. Fucking clowns! she thought. "Don't get funny. Like the skirt by the way, is it new?" she asked, pouring out sarcasm.

  "Actually yes it is. You like?" Alpha Zombie twirled in his tartan, feeling a lot more manly wearing a kilt — obtained when he happened across a man that ever so kindly gave up his attire after he cracked his skull against a wall and spent a few hours slowly eating his brains. Along with drinking plenty of blood from a flask he now carried to decant his favorite, and only, tipple. He wasn't a savage any more, he had standards.

  "How about the new shoes, like 'em?" said Alfred, showing off his brand new Doc Martens, now brown rather than the shiny black they were very recently.

  "What the fuck are you doing here, and how did you find us?" said Ven, backing away toward the bus, all too aware that she was alone for once — feeling scared. She really had gotten used to having a pistol with her at all times now, and had totally forgotten that was no longer the case.

  "You aren't that important," said Alfred with disgust. "Think I would bother myself about you and your idiot friends? No, I am here for more important things. Things over there." He pointed up at the fields across the stream, where the others had gone earlier.

  "The deer?" asked Ven, not understanding.

  "Deer? What fucking deer? No, the fact that something is going on with my pack. I'm the Alpha now and they are part of the hivemind. Something is wrong. Very wrong. They keep going dark on me."

  "Alpha? What are you talking about? I don't understand." Ven was getting very worried. As they spoke she tried to assess Alfred, to understand what he was. He had all the hallmarks of the infected, but obviously wasn't like them. He seemed to have changed a lot since she saw him last — streaking naked across the sweltering tarmac then jumping on Joe. Joe, she hadn't thought of him in some time.

  "And Joe, what about Joe?" asked Ven, not sure she wanted to hear the answer.

  "Joe?" said a confused Alfred.

  "The man at the building where we first met you, the one you, ugh, licked," said Ven, remembering seeing that thick black tongue working its way up Joe's face. She shuddered at the memory.

  "Well," said Alfred, pulling something from his bag, "let's just say he fought badly." He lit up a thick cigar, wiggling an eyebrow at Ven suggestively.

  "You motherfucker," said Ven, rising and ready to do battle. "Is that his? What did you do?"

  "What the fuck do you think I did? I smashed his head to a pulp, ate his brains, then threw him to the pack and smoked one of his cigars," said Alfred wickedly, puffing out a deep lungful of the heavy smoke into the frigid air.

  "Yeah, right. Joe would have kicked you
r ass. You couldn't beat him in a fight."

  "Who said anything about a fight? I went back there a month after you left and found him half dead in a chair. He was in no condition to do fuck all but wave about like a baby and beg for mercy."

  Alfred was exaggerating, Joe didn't beg, he took it like a man, but Alfred told the truth about the rest. Joe had got totally hammered on a bottle of very good whiskey he had been saving so was semi-comatose when Alfred sneaked into the building with a few undead buddies. They ripped him to bits before he had time to even rise drunkenly from his chair.

  "He should have given up the booze and smokes. That stuff will kill you stone dead," laughed Alfred, reminiscing about the aftershave-tinged flavor of Joe. "Bit tough if I am honest, too much muscle, not enough fat for my taste. I prefer it all a bit more squishy." He grinned evilly, showing green tinged teeth that he hadn't brushed for months now. He reveled in the primal life, putting many of the previous ways he followed religiously when he was a human being behind him.

  "Anyway, enough of the boring chit-chat. I have business to attend to. Serious business. I can taste the fucking gross acts your kind are performing from here. Humans," spat Alfred. "You goddamn humans. Never happier than when you are making someone else's life a bloody misery are you? Well, you won't be getting away with doing anything to my kind, no way."

  "I don't know what you're on about, and what's this Alpha shit. You nominated yourself as some kind of a leader," said Ven mockingly.

  "Nominated, no. I am The Leader. See any other infected acting like me? No. Well then. I got lucky, or I got chosen. Either way I am the Alpha of this pack and people are messing with them around here, so I intend to put a stop to it. Now. Today. Oh, and before I go, one more thing."

  "What?"

  "Your precious baby? You know it isn't human any more don't you? I can smell it. Taste it. It's growing, it's changing, and it's going to give you the shock of your life one day soon. Notice anything different about him? Maybe growing a little fast is he? Always hungry? Alw—"

  "You shut your mouth. He's got nothing to do with you, and he's perfectly normal thank you very much." Ven knew she was kidding herself, but how did this freak know? What exactly did he mean anyway?

  "Whatever," waved Alpha dismissively, "I'm sure I will see you around again. If not you then definitely the little guy. He may just be the one to take over from me when the time comes. We'll see, time will tell. I ain't going anywhere soon, you know. I can feel it, feel it inside me. All these new chemical reactions, re-configured brain patterns, sensing the dark with the pulsing heart..." He trailed off, aware he was giving away more than he needed to. Truth was it had been a long time since he'd had a conversation with anyone. His brothers and sisters were not exactly chatty, so the only human voice he usually heard was his own. "Anyhow, see you around, maybe in fifty years or so, when the boy is all grown up and doing something worth checking up on."

  And with that he was gone.

  Down the bank and across the river, using the stepping stones laid earlier. Ven could see him making his way up the steep slope opposite, keeping low, animalistic movements making him a part of the natural surroundings. Like he belonged, like he was a part of the natural world and fitted in perfectly. Not like people that always seemed out of place with their belief in their superiority.

  It was all too much for her, emotions were mixed up, and she wondered just what it was he had been talking about.

  Alphas? Hivemind? Something bad is going to happen. I hope the guys are alright.

  They weren't.

  Oopsie

  George and Mary slept the sleep of the dead. Literally.

  Old life — dead.

  Everything they held dear — dead.

  Kids — dead.

  Awareness, caring, responsibility, comforts — dead, dead, dead, dead.

  They were something else now, something new. But also something waiting.

  They hibernated.

  In a shallow pit, a natural dip in the ground, covered in dirt and the sodden autumn leaves, they breathed shallowly, hardly moving, hearts pumping so slow you couldn't find a pulse if you tried.

  Life had been so perfect. The typical family unit, and they couldn't have been happier. A lovely day out walking around the large grounds of a stately home, ogling jealously at all the rooms — full of exceptionally tasteful antiques. Then a picnic down by the large lake, feeding the ducks and geese, the kids running around happily, chasing the birds and only stopping to refuel on drinks. By the end of the day the children were shattered, muddy and happy, and George and Mary were looking forward to getting home, getting them bathed and put down for sleep.

  It didn't quite work out like that.

  They were sat on their checkered picnic blanket under a tree, enjoying the lull in the rain, when George got out his phone. Apparently one of their friends had sent them a link to the funniest clip on YouTube ever. He mentioned it to Mary and they both stared at the screen as he clicked through from the link in the email.

  Scant seconds later they were both roaring with hunger and the kids were an unsatisfying snack not long after.

  Over the days and weeks that followed they hunted for food, becoming less and less successful as those that survived were caught and devoured. Wandering aimlessly they eventually found themselves in the shelter of the woods, where the waning warm weather gave some form of shelter. They began to slow, their bodies conserving energy, hormones combining, making changes once more; shutting down gradually, as they began to go into self-preservation mode. Chemical reactions within switched from burning food for fuel to trying to hold onto any reserves they had. Fat layers were built, enough to allow then to sleep an animalistic sleep and awaken when the time was right. As their bodies re-configured so did their brains — once again. The overriding desire for human flesh lessened, just enough to allow their bodies to relax to conserve energy. It was still there, it always would be, but it was so all-consuming as to make rest an impossibility. They moved sluggishly into the small depression in the ground, clawed the earth and leaves over themselves with ragged, almost skeletal hands.

  They slept the sleep of the hunter in waiting. Still together, still a couple, unable to part from each other, even in un-life.

  Almost dead again, but not quite. They functioned barely enough to keep their bodies working, some senses still hot-wired to the slightest change in their environment, and the scent of fresh human flesh was more than enough to bring them from their sleepy hollow in a second.

  A huge cocktail surge of hormones pulsed raggedly through their bodies, firing up motor neurons, Neuropeptide Y went into mass production, increasing its presence in every part of their bodies, the hunger drive back with a vengeance.

  It was time to eat, and they were hungrier than a human body could ever be. It was all consuming, all powerful, finally they would get the zombie high that all of their kind craved, no, needed, above all else.

  They tore from their shallow grave, eyes dark and wild. Veins bulging as the thick blood pumped with renewed speed through their infected bodies. Nature took over, propelling them with vigor at the walls of flesh there in front of them.

  ###

  Kyle, Al and Bos Bos crept away slowly from their hiding place, all too aware that staying out of sight was of prime importance. You can't go freeing slaves if you are one yourself. They skirted deeper into the woods, heading back up the way they had come, keeping well under cover, trying not to think too much about the poor people they were leaving behind. Not only people, but the infected too. It was one thing killing something that was trying to eat your brains, another to chain them up and systematically treat them as if they were nothing but commodities to be traded, tortured and killed when the fancy took you.

  Kyle recalled all too well that he had been witness to torture himself back in the barn at the manor house, when they were trying to figure out exactly what the infected were. Ven had performed acts of cruelty to see if they were undead o
r not. They had all let it happen. Even wanted it to happen.

  But there were lines you didn't cross, and these groups of men, and women, had definitely crossed them. Infecting people on purpose was something that well and truly crossed the boundaries, let alone the enslaving of young women.

  They made it back to the spot they had first approached from: the woods that led down the field to the stream, and Ven and Tomas.

  "Okay, let's get back to Ven. We need to let her know what is happening, and to figure out what we are going to do. God knows how we are going to free anybody, but we need to think of something pretty damn fast," said Kyle, sweating even in the cool air, the result of a mix of exertion and dread of the inevitable battle to come.

  "We are definitely needing a good plan, that is for sure," said Al. "We must be freeing the lady and we must be getting the bad men very deaded, very deaded indeed." Al held no qualms when it came to eradicating people that were obviously bad, they deserved worse than he could ever deliver. He wanted to be the one dealing out the death blows to rapists and people that infected others just to make some kind of a point.

  "Woof, woof. Grr."

  "Ssh, Boscoe."

  "Woof. Woof, woof, woof woof."

  "Boscoe, I told you—. Shit. Al look out."

  "Wha—"

  Two zombies grabbed Al before he had a chance to ready himself. Bodies emaciated and black from rotting skin, burned by the cold frosts. Leaves dropped from them as they moved — they were on him and ferocious. Food, here it was, their wait had been worth it. They were hungry, so hungry that nothing would stop them from finally getting their meal.

  Bos Bos tore at the leg of one, ripping the calf muscle almost clean off. He shook it until the last strands of taught muscle tore away loudly, but it did nothing to stop the onslaught.