by Al K. Line
The second was not even out of the ground properly, yet you could see the pent up ferocity of weeks, maybe months without food clamoring at its body for sustenance. It was like a set piece of an attack. Zombies crawling from the earth, like the dead become freshly animated. Only these weren't freshly dead and resurrected, they had been infected a long time ago, wandering the woods, searching in vain for the flesh they needed to get the serotonin high that was their driving purpose.
Now food could be theirs, it was right here, they just needed to take it.
Bos Bos flung away the calf muscle, hyper-coagulated blood smeared across his snout, letting the blood-lust rise in him, and with renewed vigor the hungry little dog bounced back into action. Wobbly bum wiggling, enjoying the fact he was getting the better of the foul smelling animals rising from the earth.
Kyle thwacked one across the head, dislodging it from Al, and he took a swing for the next.
"Don't think so, hold it right there," said a voice behind him.
Kyle turned wildly, ready to deal with whoever was stopping him from saving his friend. As he turned he felt a shattering of nerves, he was on fire, he fell to the ground, twitching, convulsing wildly, no control over his body, until just as quickly it began to abate.
Then it happened again, worse than ever.
"Oopsie," giggled a voice he couldn't see for tears. "Must have upped the setting."
"Al, Al," croaked Kyle, worried for his friend, before he blacked out and slumped like a jelly thrown to the floor, all motor function control lost, like a puppet where the strings were cut. The old wooden plaything discarded.
"Baker, put that fucking dog out of its misery will you, it's driving me nuts."
"Righto, will do."
As the man moved toward Bos Bos, gun rising, Bos Bos knew what to do — he scarpered as fast as his short legs could carry him. A shot rang out, hitting low on a tree just as he flew past, legs akimbo, trying to go faster than the rest of his body.
"Damn, bloody dog," said the man that had tried to end it all for Bos Bos mid adventure.
While Baker was firing at Bos Bos the other man sliced out with a short blade, putting down the zombie still attacking Al. Al was getting the better of it by now, spurred on by the need to help Kyle and get away so he could help save the beautiful slave woman.
Al turned fast, ready to attack, when he felt something cold and hard prod him in the back, it was the man that had missed Bos Bos.
"Don't think so mate, you stay right where you are."
Al knew better than to argue, he had seen, and heard the shotgun. He was in no doubt about what it was. "I am am doing the coming quietly, no need for you to be keeping doing the shocking for the friend of mine. You will be hurting him."
The man in charge eyed Al suspiciously. "You Dutch or something?"
Al sighed, he really was getting fed up with having to answer this question.
"No, not being Dutch, I am a special man, I am being Al, and I will be killing you both, and all your friends as you are bad m—" Al went down. Hard. Even for giants a whack over the head with a heavy shotgun can drop you like a ton of bricks right where you stand. It wouldn't last long though, Al was tough, he would be up soon enough.
The two men, Baker and Dan, wasted no time. They checked them both for weapons, removing anything they found, then tied them tight. Chain, padlocks, handcuffs too. Baker went off for a vehicle, there was no way they could carry Al back up to the main group.
Shortly after he returned with a few extra men. They manhandled them both into the back of a pickup, then drove back to the main group.
Al came to in the van, to find Kyle already awake and staring at him from swollen eyes. Al's head throbbed and Kyle was tingling all over. Electric shock really was pretty nasty.
"Well, so much for our super rescue Al, looks like we are a bit on the useless side dude."
"Not to worry friend Kyle, it is all being part of my master plan," said Al.
"Wow, cool. Really?" said Kyle, brightening at the thought.
"No," said Al, "just trying to be cheering you up."
"Well, yeah. Thanks Al," said Kyle, wondering just what went on in Al's head at times. Kyle shook himself more together, then began to pay attention to the group of men and women along with the slaves of the human and undead type. He began to think about just how the hell they were going to get out of this mess.
It would take some thinking about it seemed.
They were unloaded unceremoniously once the pickup parked. The stench was the first thing that hit Kyle as they arrived. So many infected at such close quarters was not pleasant, plus the slavers were certainly none too sweet smelling themselves. There was also a foul smell coming from the large white Luton van that seemed to contain live people. You could actually taste the dread. Fear, sweat, urine and who knew what else. There was an unquestionably large group of people inside if the odors, and the low hum of voices drifting on the damp air, was anything to go by.
The other vehicles were a real mish-mash. Some relatively simple cars with modifications to stop windows being a simple entry point, replaced with metal, badly welded into place. There were also large vans obviously there for transporting human quarry. A small truck with a curtained bed, army by the looks of it, seemed to be the main transport for the group of zombie slavers. They were definitely the ones who were in charge around here.
"Bring them out," said a gruff voice Kyle thought he recognized.
As they were dragged unceremoniously from the pickup they were stood up and marched over to the main group of people. Kyle recognized the man who had spoken as one of the men from the funfair. He recognized a few others too, from both groups of people.
"Well, what's the deal?" said the leader to the men that had captured Al and Kyle.
"Found them in the woods, skulking. Spying on us, thought they might be worth something."
"Maybe the big one is, the little one," he said, pointing at Kyle, "not so sure. Maybe as a brain muncher he would be worth something, what do you think?"
"Well, I would rather not be infected if it's all the same to you," replied Kyle. "I would rather you let us go so that we can come back and kill the fucking lot of you." Kyle regretted the words before they were out of his mouth, but there was no stopping them from being uttered.
"Is that right?" sneered the leader. "Gonna teach us a lesson are you? You and the big lump there," he said pointing at Al. He was almost as big as Al himself, although he didn't have his bulk.
"Kyle is being right. We are very much going to be killing you all for doing the bad things to the women and to the zombies. You are bad people I am knowing this, and we will be doing killing of you for the bad things you have done."
"So, Kyle is it? Good to know. And you, are you fucking Dutch or something?"
Al rolled his eyes, he really was sick of this. "Not Dutch, special."
"Name?"
"Yes."
"You trying to be funny?" scowled the man. Anger flashing like a razor across a throat.
"Yes."
"What's your fucking name?"
"His name's Al alright, can we go now please," said Kyle, not helping the situation at all.
"Enough of this shit. Right you lot, we have business to conclude. So if it's alright with you two then I think we can conclude it?"
Kyle and Al were frogmarched away, loaded onto the army truck, closely watched over by a man that really seemed to want to rip their heads off.
Kyle could hear the negotiations continue for some time. The outcome seemed to be that the line of zombies were being swapped for the woman. The zombie slaver wanted more for his zombies, but when he was led over to the van that contained people, and the doors were opened for him to take a look inside, he swore viciously, muttered about them all being ancient or male and not worth crap, and with a loud dramatic sigh agreed to give the human slaver the infected in exchange for the human cargo.
The deal done, each group finished off their business with a few
hand shakes then a passing over of keys. The infected were loaded onto a small white van that the human traffickers used for their undead cargoes.
The woman was dragged kicking and screaming over to the army truck and thrown inside to be greeted by Kyle and a rather over anxious Al. He loomed over the poor woman, frightening her even more, on a day that had gotten worse and worse as it wore on.
"I am not doing the hurting, sorry to be scaring you. You are being okay now, we will help you and we will be saving you," said Al, realizing, uncharacteristically, that he was quite large and would have given the woman a bit of a shock. He couldn't help but notice again quite how pretty she was under the tears, grime and blood that covered her face. The rest of her was in a worse state. Mud and blood mixing with damp clothes covered in sweat and the stink of the unwashed human slavers.
The woman said nothing, scrambled away from the looming Al, and the rather less in your face Kyle, then moved back into a dark corner of the canvas covered rear of the truck. She was visibly shaking, covered in small cuts and bruises on every piece of exposed skin, while the dark staining on her jeans around her midsection told a story none of them wanted to think about.
Kyle thought it obvious what had happened: she had been attacked brutally. He wondered if Al was aware of what this meant? He suspected Al knew exactly what had happened, knew that one way or another he was going to make the men pay for what they had done.
First, they had to get out of the bloody van, make their escape. Plus they still had to come up with a plan for what they were going to do.
Story Time
"Sorry about us," said Kyle. "We won't hurt you, promise. We saw what was happening, and were... um, planning on rescuing you. Guess that didn't quite work as planned," he said sullenly.
"Of course we will not be doing the hurting of you," exclaimed Al, still aware how they may appear to the frightened woman. He sat down, cursing his size, trying not to be as intimidating. It didn't work, he just looked like a big bear huddled ready to pounce. "We will be doing the rescuing still, you should not be worrying about those men any more. I," said Al, building up to his absolute best joke in the world ever, "am Alex... but you can call me Al!" He waited for the punchline to hit.
"Um, Al, maybe now isn't the best time for your Paul Simon joke," said Kyle, looking apologetically at the young woman, terrified and cowering in the corner.
Suddenly, her eyes widened, understanding flickering across her face.
"Paul Simon song title joke, right? Very funny," she said, actually giving Al a hint of a smile.
"See Kyle, everyone is loving my bestest joke. Apart from you, who was not even knowing who the great Paul Simon was," he said with disappointment.
Slowly they began to talk in whispers. When Kyle lifted the curtain to peek outside he was greeted with a very sharp sword pointed straight at his face. He closed the flap. They continued their muted conversation, while outside it seemed there was a party happening now the negotiations had been completed.
They spoke quietly, surprisingly the woman named Mandy seemed glad of their company. Gradually she relaxed somewhat, and as they spoke her story came out — it wasn't easy listening.
After the infection first hit Mandy had been lucky that she had been at home with her mum. Work had finished early for the day so she was planning on having a night out with the girls and was getting ready to have a bath. Her mother shouted up to her from the bottom of the stairs that maybe she shouldn't go out tonight, could she come and have a look at the telly, as she wasn't sure she was understanding it right. Mandy went downstairs in her dressing gown.
She never did get her night out.
Mandy and her mother stared with growing horror at the TV screen as reporters warned of mass infections that were sending people mad; that they were actually attacking others and eating them. They were warned not to use anything connected to the Web.
When the newsreader got eaten by the sound-man Mandy unplugged the TV from the mains and closed the curtains.
Over the days that followed they grew increasingly desperate as the power, water and everything else was turned off. Food got low so they decided there was nothing for it but to try and get provisions. They thought the best bet was to simply try the neighbors. If they were infected then chances are they could deal with them if they were prepared, and if not then they could at least find comfort in being part of a larger group of people. Over the following weeks the numbers grew to a handful of survivors in the village. They actually did a pretty good job of dealing with the infected. Mandy was mad for keep-fit and was in very good shape, thankfully some of the neighbors were pretty tough guys as well.
Then other people found the village, so the numbers gradually grew and the infected were eliminated. Some of the more survivalist orientated locals drew up plans to properly protect the village and the place became a real refuge against the undead. But food was still a real concern so organized parties went out most days to find food and various other supplies. Mandy had taken her turn numerous times before. She thought nothing of it when her turn came again on the public rota.
But this time it was different.
Out in the countryside, trying to herd sheep into the back of the trailer, her small group were taken, it wasn't hard. The men that took them were rough and very cruel. They killed the three men in Mandy's group to show the women that they meant business. Her life had been constant misery since then. Now it seemed like she was being swapped for a group of zombies. She explained what they did with the infected, what they did for sport. It was horrifying, but she had been made to witness it countless times. Sick to her stomach at the laughs and jokes from the slavers, the careless attitude they had toward human life.
She continued her story.
They took her, her mother, and two other women back to their compound. It was more like a degenerate campsite than anything else. Numerous tents of all shapes and sizes, a few trucks, mobile homes and an awful lot of men. But there were women slavers too, women that seemed to delight in the misery inflicted on other females. It was one of the hardest things for Mandy to understand. All the slaves were simply bundled up in the back of a van and food and water was thrown in once a day if they were lucky. Mandy had been living like this for months now. She had been taken outside most days, sometimes they were allowed out to go to the bathroom, now and then they were allowed out to wash in the stream. The better looking you were meant the more the men wanted you, so the cleaner you were allowed to be. This was not the case for the slavers themselves. Mandy shook with revulsion as she recounted the foulness of the slavers. They hardly ever washed, and they stank. They seemed to revel in the fact that they disgusted the women they treated so badly.
Mandy had been used and abused on many occasions, beaten, ridiculed and worse, but she never let them break her. She went to a far away place when the bad things happened. She was strong, no abuser was ever going to get the better of her, not her deep inner self. She told herself this, but it was obvious that the abuse had had a deep and permanent effect on her. She found it hard, almost impossible, to look Al and Kyle in the eye, involuntarily she recoiled slightly every time they moved.
Life had been one long nightmare, a life she thought would never end. Now it seemed like it was going to get worse. She had heard the human slavers talk about the zombie slavers around the campfire late in the evenings, when she lay abandoned in one tent or another, too bruised and broken to move, let alone try to escape. The zombie slavers were extremists in every sense it seemed, and the way they treated both the living and the undead was a lot worse than how Mandy had been treated. At least that was how it seemed from the stories and whispers she heard from those that talked of what they heard about them, awed by the depraved acts they were rumored to get up to.
Mandy talked on, seemingly unable to stop herself once she got started. She had missed the ability to talk freely, any talking heard when enslaved was treated severely with strong punishment, so she hadn't had a
proper conversation for many months now. She told of the abuse, the deaths, the suicides of those unable to cope any longer with their degraded existence. But that wasn't all, it was the dread. The waiting, the not knowing when your turn would come again that really gnawed away at you until eventually becoming nothing but a shell of your former self.
What was obvious throughout the whole recounting was that Mandy was a very strong willed woman, that she had resisted the mental and physical punishment extremely well. She simply refused to let brutal men get the better of her. She had, in that sense at least, beaten them. She may have been the plaything of sick men that deserved the worst punishment imaginable, but she hadn't let them break her spirit. You could see a spark still there, a deep inner beauty as well as an outer one under the grime.
Both Kyle, and especially Al, were rather in awe of the strength and purity of the woman they had rather pathetically failed to save from such treatment.
Fight, fight, fight.
Al was spent, he hadn't had to fight this hard for many months. Probably not since the day of the infection in what went down in history as the great Al vs Zombies lost story!
He was stripped down to his multi-pocketed combat trousers. The black material slick with the goop of who knew how many infected. He saw no end in sight to his battle as three more starving creatures circled him, seemingly wary, looking for a way to devour his flesh without it meaning their own death for a second, more permanent time.
Al, along with Kyle and Mandy, had been dragged roughly from the truck and marched over to the boss-man. It seemed he wanted to teach the girl a lesson so she would understand her place, which meant she was going to watch as he showed her what would happen if she ever tried to escape, or disobeyed him. He pointed out the piles of bodies, then explained that she would be added to the heap if she didn't learn to know her place, but that her new found friends definitely would be joining the pile some time soon.
He actually thought he might keep Kyle alive, he could see a use for him in a number of ways. He was young, pretty toned, in remarkably good health. Maybe use him as bait for capturing more zombies? He would think about it. For now though it was the big guy who was to be the star attraction to entertain his guests. The human slaver had wanted quite a few zombies for the girl, but at least had been generous enough to allow some of his new acquisitions to be the main fighters for the show to come. They were good, the boss knew that, as he had used them before, sure that they were strong and uncharacteristically wily.