Zombiekill

by Russ Watts

  “Damn straight,” said Conan. He belched and picked up another can from the cooler. He crushed the empty can in his hand and dropped it at his feet.

  Verity laughed and looked at Tad. “Now stop looking at that truck, you. We’ve got to wait for your brother. If you go ahead and do anything before he—”

  The sound of footsteps on the driveway interrupted Verity, and she looked up to see Rilla approaching them. The girl wore the skimpy green dress that Verity had dressed her in that morning. Why she had to dress the girls up she didn’t know as they spent very little time dressed. Verity saw the vacant look in the girl’s eyes and the bruises down her bare arms. It was a sight she was familiar with and turned away. “Tad, get a beer for your brother. Looks like he’s worked up quite a thirst.”

  Rilla stumbled toward them and stopped when she reached the chairs. Her lip was cut and a thin trickle of blood ran down her leg, visible below the dress that stopped at the knees.

  “Cheers,” said Butcher as he took a cold can from Tad. Butcher walked from Tad to Conan to Verity giving them all high fives. “What did I tell you? This place is ours. You want something, and I get it. Right, Conan?”

  Conan smiled and nodded.

  “Right, Tad?”

  “Right on, brother.”

  Butcher shoved Rilla forward and ordered her to sit in the vacant chair. She sat down slowly and winced when Butcher touched her. “Want a drink?”

  Rilla said nothing and stared at the ground.

  “I said, you want a drink?” asked Butcher impatiently.

  Rilla shook her head slowly.

  “I don’t think she’s thirsty,” said Tad. He raised his can and jumped up out of his chair. “I bet you already slipped something down her throat, though, huh?”

  Butcher looked at Tad plainly. “Dude, not now. Mom is right there. She is right there.”

  “Oh, yeah, right.” Tad lowered his can.

  “Nah, I’m just kidding,” said Butcher, grinning. He held up his can for Tad to toast. “I’m surprised that girl can even sit down, the day she’s had.”

  Tad laughed nervously and glanced at his mother. Verity was staring out at the sunset, either oblivious to the conversation or willfully ignoring it. She got the girls ready, cleaned them up afterwards, and did as she was told. She seemed content with her lot and never complained.

  “So what’s going down?” asked Butcher, as he began to tie Rilla to the chair. He bound her ankles together and then brought her arms around the back of the chair. He tied her wrists together and stroked her hair.

  “Can I drive?” asked Tad. “You never let me do it. I really want to do this one.”

  “In a moment, Tad. We’ll get to that.” Butcher looked at Conan. “I take it we’re all cleared up?”

  “All dead,” replied Conan. “Not much left. One had turned, but I quickly dispatched him. The rest I washed away. Couple of the dogs bought it. Probably that Schafer guy. Looked like he put up a hell of a fight.”

  “Shame.” Butcher knew that meant they were down to two dogs. They would have to start looking for replacements soon. The need to keep them there was getting less and less every day, but he would rather have them than not. If another large group came along he would need them. “Anything useful turn up?”

  Conan shook his head. “No. Couple of watches that don’t work and a couple of wedding rings. Not much value.”

  “I did get this sweet hat,” said Tad, proudly tipping his new fishing cap to Butcher. “Found it in the kennels. One of the dogs used it as a chew toy after killing the boy. It’s pretty comfy.”

  Butcher ignored his younger brother and turned to Verity. “Dinner nearly ready?”

  Verity nodded. “It’ll be done shortly.”

  “Good. After we’ve eaten I need you to clean our guest up. Maybe find something to pep her up a bit. We’ve still got some Coke, right? Just enough to give her a quick pick me up. I’ve got plans.”

  Verity yawned. “Sure. One of you boys will have to help me clean the dishes though. I’m not doing all the hard graft around here.”

  “Tad?” Butcher looked at his younger brother who opened his mouth to protest and then thought better of it. “Great.”

  Conan crushed another beer can in his hands and then tossed it at Attwood’s feet.

  “Say, where’s your gift, Conan? You been busy?” asked Butcher. “Not still got her tied up in the house have you? You should bring her out here. I’ll bet she could use a drink.”

  “I think I broke her,” said Conan, bored.

  “Can I drive?” asked Tad, excitedly. “Please, Butcher, just let me this one time.”

  Butcher looked over at the pickup truck. “Shit, Conan, you done with her already?” Victoria was bound up and tied to the back of the truck. A length of rope hung from the bumper and was wrapped around her neck. Her feet and hands were strapped up with cable ties, and yet Butcher could see she was very much alive. She was trying to extricate herself from the ties, but there was no way she was going to get them undone on her own.

  “Please?” asked Tad again, as he got up from his chair.

  Butcher looked at Conan. “You sure? It’s been a while since the last one, and I ain’t sure when your next gift is coming along. You understand, big man?”

  Conan nodded. “She was fine. Just a little... old.”

  Butcher slumped down in Tad’s vacant seat and looked up at his brother in the waning sunlight. “Okay. Just be careful. You fuck anything up, and you’re paying for it.”

  “Yes!” Tad downed his beer and went over to the truck where he disappeared inside the cab and started the engine.

  “Right,” said Butcher. “I’ve got one minute. Any advance?”

  “Two,” said Verity as she watched Victoria twist and turn to free herself from the rope.

  “Thirty seconds,” said Conan.

  “Brave choice,” replied Butcher. “Brave choice.” He looked over at the pickup truck idling on the driveway, and Tad looked out of the window as he revved the engine. Butcher raised a hand and gave him the thumbs up. “Ladies and gentlemen, start your watches.”

  The driveway was clear and led down to the annex where it ended. There was room to turn, and usually the truck did a quick turnaround before heading back up to the house. It took no more than a minute to complete the circuit although Tad hadn’t driven it before.

  “Playtime is over, Conan. You’re going to lose,” said Butcher, smiling as Tad began to move the pickup down the driveway.

  “Stop, what are you doing?” asked Rilla. She only half heard the conversation between them, and was only now realizing that Victoria was tied to the back of the truck. She’d heard them confirm that everyone was dead, including her father, and it was only when they started laying bets that she looked at the truck. As it slowly pulled away she saw Victoria try to get to her feet.

  “Quiet,” said Butcher as he glanced at his wristwatch. “I’ve got latrine duty riding on this.”

  The truck sped up quickly, and the rope behind it extended fully before catching Victoria. She had managed to get to her feet and was trying to jump along. Rilla saw her red eyes and knew that they had hurt her. They had said they would look after her, but it was all a lie. Even the old woman had been in on it. If they had done just half the things to Victoria as they had to Rilla, then she would make sure they paid for it.

  “Wait, please, she’s only a little girl,” pleaded Rilla.

  “I said shut up,” said Butcher as he saw Tad waving out of the window and grinning like a child in a candy store. “Otherwise, it’ll be you strapped to the back of that truck next.”

  Rilla watched as Victoria was yanked off her feet and her body thrown into the air. As the truck roared down the driveway the rope abruptly went taught and Victoria’s body was slammed down onto the driveway. Victoria screamed, unable to put her arms out in front of her to protect herself, and her body began to bounce along the hard tarmac as Tad kept going.

  Ril
la jumped to her feet. “Stop, right now! Stop it!” she screamed.

  “Conan, sort that shit out,” said Butcher as he kept half an eye on Victoria and half an eye on his watch.

  Conan walked over to Rilla and drew a hand across her face. The slap stung her cheeks, but Rilla knew that Victoria was in far worse pain. And if they didn’t stop, she would be dead soon.

  “Fuck you,” said Rilla, facing Conan. She could feel a bead of blood drip over her bottom lip. “Fuck you, you animals. What the fuck are you—”

  Conan squared himself up and then planted a punch right in the center of Rilla’s face. The bridge of her nose broke instantly, and her unconscious body was knocked back into the seat behind her.

  “Thank you,” said Butcher, as Conan calmly returned to his seat.

  Tad approached the annex and veered the truck to the left to swing around. Victoria’s body was dragged along behind the truck, and as Tad swung around Victoria was slammed into the wall of the annex. Her body left a dent in one of the walls as Tad kept speeding the truck up.

  “That has got to hurt,” said Verity, chuckling.

  “Laugh all you like old woman,” said Butcher. “Forty seconds. You’re out, Conan. It’s between you and me now, Mom.”

  The truck began to come up the driveway to the house, and Butcher could still see Victoria twisting and crying. There were faint cries coming from her body, but if he didn’t know who it was, he wouldn’t be able to recognize her. Her body was shrouded in blood and her face nothing but a pile of worn away bone and gristle, flesh dangling from it in places, and her nose and eyes just cavities showing her pain.

  “Come on, Tad, finish it,” whispered Butcher.

  Tad suddenly slammed on the brakes and Victoria’s body skidded along the drive until it caught up with the truck and bounced into the rear axle. The girl’s body was now still, and the crying had stopped.

  “Boom!” Butcher stood up and applauded. “She’s gone. And that is almost a perfect sixty seconds.” He turned to Verity. “Unlucky. You lose again. One week’s latrine duty.”

  Tad got out of the cab and walked around to the back of the truck where he inspected Victoria’s remains. Then he went back to the cab, turned the engine off, and ran over to Butcher with a smile across his face.

  “Did you see that shit? She is fucked up. Her face is just gone, man. She looks worse than those walking corpses out there.”

  “She dead?” asked Verity.

  “Course she is. I don’t mess around,” replied Tad, defensively.

  “Damn. I had two minutes.”

  “Yeah, like I was gonna let it go that long.” Tad fished himself a cold beer from the cooler. “I don’t mess around. When I’m going to do something I just do it. I do everything fast.”

  “One day, Tad,” said Butcher putting an arm around his brother, “you’ll learn that’s not necessarily a good thing.”

  Conan let out a snigger.

  “Okay, boys, I’ve had enough. Dinner’s ready.” Verity got up and began to walk back to the house. “You remember to make sure that dead bitch don’t come back. We don’t want a fucking zombie walking around the property.”

  “Shit, I forgot about that,” said Tad. “You want me to do it?”

  Butcher looked at his younger brother with something approaching pride. “Why not?” Butcher looked at the unconscious Rilla. “You did good, Tad. After dinner, if you clean up that mess you made on the driveway, I’ll let you have a go at our other guest before you go out on duty. Burn the remains and then get washed up. You’ve got a busy night ahead of you.”

  Tad nodded. “Conan, lend me your gun.”

  Conan looked at Tad disapprovingly.

  “Come on, Conan. You never let me have a go with the Desert Eagle. Just this once? You always say it’s impossible to miss with it.”

  “If you think I’m going to let you get your hands on my baby, you are very very mistaken, Tad,” said Conan.

  “Tad, use your knife,” ordered Butcher. “We can’t waste the bullets, anyway, so get on with it.”

  Butcher watched as Tad returned to the truck and the dead girl. “What do you say, Conan, one for the road?”

  Conan pulled two more cans of beer out and tossed one to Butcher.

  “Amen to that,” said Butcher, catching the can mid-air. “Ain’t nothing gonna stop us now. What did I tell you? This place is the fucking bomb. You want something, I get it. We got it made here. Those walls are gonna see us through this. We can do whatever we want.” Butcher watched as Tad rammed a knife through Victoria’s head. “Whatever we want, Conan. Ain’t nothing or nobody gonna stop us.”

  CHAPTER 13

  She tightened the straps around her shoulders and went through a mental checklist of everything to do. Whilst she knew it wouldn’t be easy, she had thought through exactly what she needed to do, and now that Attwood’s house was directly in front of her, the only thing left was to put the plan into action.

  Charlie had traded in her UCLA sweater which had been ripped to shreds like the supple skin on her back for a close-fitting black gym top underneath a black roll-neck jersey she had found in her mother’s closet. On top of that she wore a black hooded dressing gown that covered her entire body. Her ripped jeans had been replaced with a fresh pair, and her left arm was wrapped in bandages. For what she was about to do she needed to be quick on her feet and had put on her old grey Converse sneakers. She wasn’t going to be winning any fashion awards, but she had dressed appropriately for the occasion and finished her ensemble off with a large Gerber Air Ranger that her father used to take out fishing. There were several knives in her father’s garage, but this one was the toughest one she could find. Charlie dry swallowed a couple of tablets and tried to clear her mind. The last twenty-four hours had seen her father killed, and her wounds were still to heal. After getting home before sunrise, she had tried to regain some energy and recuperate, but the knowledge that Victoria and Rilla were still in that house spurred her on. She’d washed out her cuts as best as possible and used her father’s whisky as anesthetic when she stitched up the open wounds. Her face has been the hardest and she had had to settle for doing a quick job. The stitches were ragged and crude, and the slashed skin on her cheek was going to leave a scar. Her whole body ached. Her left arm was almost useless, and she had resorted to wrapping the whole thing in bandages. She could still manipulate a couple of fingers slightly, so she lived in hope that it wasn’t damaged beyond repair. Her legs, too, throbbed with pain, and she had taken more painkillers in the last few hours put together than she had in the last few years.

  Getting to Rilla was her main objective. Butcher had pretended to be Attwood, although she didn’t yet know why. Perhaps Attwood was a prisoner in his own home, or perhaps he was just using Butcher to get what he wanted. The fact that they had set those dogs on them told Charlie all she needed to know. Rilla and Victoria were in danger, and she had to get to them. Charlie needed to know what was going on behind those walls.

  The black gown hid her well in the dusk that was settling over the Attwood mansion. It also hid her from the zombies. They still meandered around the property, around the fake moat and roads, and slipping through them unnoticed had not been as easy as when she had crawled out of the drain. The bloody knife in her hand was testament to how she had made it this far, and the next part of her plan was by far the most daunting and dangerous. Charlie glanced around her. There were four zombies close by, all men, all strong enough to take her down if they attacked her at once. She felt able to defend herself if they came at her one by one, but if she had learnt one thing from her experiences on the road it was that the dead were unpredictable. Being so close to them was unsettling, but she knew she needed them close by. Too few, and it wouldn’t work; too many, and her plan would go out of the window with the most likely result a painful death. Peering up from underneath her hood she saw the camera that they had missed the last time they had come here. It was nestled right in the upper corne
r of the building, almost hidden by an overhanging branch. She raised a hand and knocked on the door to the annex. Nothing happened, but she didn’t expect it to. She knocked again and then slowly lowered her hand and stepped back. The noise had instantly got the attention of the dead, and they began to converge on the doorway. Charlie held her breath and kept her head down, covered by the gown. If she was right, then the door would automatically open. Whoever was watching would see her and let her in. The zombies were out of range of the camera.

  As the door clicked open, Charlie smiled. She pushed the door open gently and walked into the room. Just like last time, the door had opened for her. Despite knowing what she was going into, the stench took her breath away, the memories almost making her regret coming back. The floor was still stained with fresh blood, and the scratches on the walls and floor testament to the fight that had taken place only hours ago. As soon as Charlie entered the room she stood to the side and held the door open. One by one the four zombies followed her into the dark room. Once they were in she fished the small black doorstop from her pocket, jammed it into the doorframe, and slipped out of the room allowing the door to close behind her. She kept her back flat against the wall and sidled carefully to the side of the building out of shot of the camera. Now all she had to do was wait. The doorstop was so small as to be practically invisible in the darkness of the evening, and it had stopped the door from closing successfully. Whilst it appeared to be shut, the locking mechanism wouldn’t be able to snap into place, leaving her one opportunity before they noticed. Charlie bent down into the tall weeds beside the ditch and relaxed slightly. The zombies were all around her, and people on both sides of the wall were all too eager to kill her, but she had the advantage of knowledge. She knew exactly where they all were and what they wanted. They wouldn’t know what hit them.

  As she waited and listened, she touched the pendant beneath her jersey. She had cleaned it up as best as she could and gotten most of the blood off. Given even just half a chance then there was no way she would leave it behind. She hadn’t been certain that the opportunity to retrieve it would even present itself, and she’d really just been lucky. The swarm of zombies that Schafer had told them about previously had dispersed, and the dead were spread out evenly throughout Peterborough. Getting home was just a vague fuzzy memory now. She had walked through the quiet dark streets on auto-pilot and couldn’t recall how she had actually got home. When it had been time to come back to Attwood’s, she had navigated her way through town with relative ease, keeping to the shadows and walking slowly through the corpses. Her clothes kept her well-hidden and had let her look for the one particular corpse she had wanted to find. The red dress had been helpful in that respect, and Charlie had finally found her mother outside the florists on Main. She was just staring at the window display as if it was a cinema screen. It wasn’t just about retrieving the pendant but also about bringing some closure to her mother’s death for both of them. Charlie had swiftly stabbed the Air Ranger blade through Jemma’s skull, entering through the ear canal, and killing the brain. Her mother had dropped to the floor and died without even seeing her daughter approach. Charlie felt no remorse for what she did. Her mother was already dead. But as she took the silver heart pendant from her mother’s body, she felt guilty. It was like robbing her mother’s grave. As Charlie traced its outline now beneath her jersey, she was glad she had taken it. She needed to know that her mother was still with her in some way. If all went well, then she wanted to find something of her father’s too. That would not be as easy as getting the pendant, though, and so Charlie sat in the weeds watching and waiting.