Death Plague [Four Zombie Novels]

by Ian Woodhead

  Darren’s dad really was a legend back in the day. Breakspear Rise, the posh estate next to theirs, was his favourite haunt. No house was safe from him. Ashton heard that he’d once escaped the clutches of two coppers by squeezing through a heating vent. That’s where the respect came from—and the fear. Folk knew his reputation, and basically, nobody dare say anything bad because they knew he’d easily be able to break into their homes whilst they were sleeping.

  Darren’s dad had personally threatened to shop his own son to the police if he ever found that he’d chosen to follow the same career path as his old man. It appeared that his son had inherited his skill for breaking and entering.

  “You’re stressing over fuck all, mate. He isn’t going to do anything. Remember when you did over the garage on the other side of the estate? Your dad knew it was you, but he didn’t do anything then.”

  “Are you going to fucking share that or what?”

  “In a sec, dude, fuck’s sake.”

  “Sorry for piling all my shit on you. Thing is, who else can I talk to? Anyway, fuck my problems, let’s get you sorted. Now, tell me why didn’t you accept my little present?”

  Ashton shook his head. This grinding headache really was fucking up his concentration. Had he just missed a conversation? He took a deep toke of the joint and relaxed slightly as the dope took the edge off the pain.

  “Claire was well upset with you screaming at her like that.”

  He finally worked out what Darren was talking about. “So what?” he replied. “Come on, dude, she’s like twelve or something.”

  “Claire’s sixteen, man, and believe me when I say that she’s very up for it, and she fancies the hell out of you.”

  Ashton took in another lungful of smoke before passing it over. Maybe Darren was right. A comfortable bed and some nubile young nymphet kissing and caressing his naked body could be just what the doctor ordered.

  “I’m telling you, that girl will make everything all better, lad. I can solemnly promise that young Claire will fuck the tension out of you.”

  Darren fumbled around in his back pocket, then handed him a small key. “You wanna hear something really funny?”

  Ashton shrugged. “Is this a joke?”

  His mate shook his head. “No, look; that kid who gave you a funny look? Well, Claire is his older sister.”

  “Yeah, that is pretty funny. I’ll remember this the next time the fucker gives me a funny look.”

  “Go on, get yourself sorted, and I’ll send her up.”

  Ashton jumped off the kitchen top and stumbled over to the hallway door. “I won’t forget this one, Daz. You’re a good mate, you are.”

  Darren nodded while taking in the last dregs of the joint. “You owe me one.”

  Ashton opened the door and threaded his way through the kids in the hallway. Now that the drug was working its way through his body, the annoying plebs surrounding him and that fucking awful music wasn’t bothering him as much. Even the headache had begun to diminish. He lifted a can of Special Brew out of some dipshit’s outstretched hand as he staggered up the stairs; he turned his head and just dared the greasy blonde fucker to take offence. The coward just blanked him, bent down, and picked up another can from the small collection by his feet.

  Ashton grinned and took a deep swig. He reached the top of the stairs, finished off the lager, threw it over his shoulder, and then gazed out of the window. The party had now spilled out into the garden. He wondered if anyone had called the police yet.

  Darren lived right in the middle of the estate. Close to the shops. As he gazed to the north, close to the boundary, he saw a cavalcade of blue flashing lights. Even from here, Darren could hear the faint screams of the sirens. It seemed like the local filth had other business to deal with tonight.

  That lager had reminded him he needed the bog. If that young tart was going to slide up and down his cock, he’d better make sure that his bladder empty.

  The bathroom door stayed shut when Ashton pulled down the handle. He placed his ear against the door and listened to the sound of groaning and panting. He looked at the key in his palm and grinned. It appeared that some of Darren’s guests didn’t have the same perk as Darren.

  He banged his fists hard against the panels and chuckled at the sound of something crashing to the floor. He was willing to bet a fiver that one of those randy bastards had just cracked their arse on the bathroom lino.

  “Fuck off!” came the muffled reply.

  Ashton recognized that voice; it belonged to Bill Cano, one of Ashton’s dealers.

  “Open up you dirty fucker, I wanna go piss.”

  “I told you I’m busy.”

  He pounded on the door one more time before padding over to Darren’s bedroom. Ashton unlocked the door, looked in, and grinned at the massive bed. He couldn’t wait to get busy on there. He shut the door, then made his way towards the stairs. Bill Curry could go fuck himself. He decided to fertilize the many weeds that infested Darren’s back garden instead. Besides, he needed a bit of fresh air; perhaps it would help to clear his thick head.

  The girl who’d caught both barrels of his temper was trying to push her way through the thronged drunken idiots at the foot of the steps. Ashton had forgotten her name already. Not that it mattered; it wasn’t like he intended to use it.

  “Let her through,” he snarled.

  Like Moses parting the Red Sea, everyone moved to the sides of the stairs. Now that she had regained her composure, Ashton found that she really was quite fuckable, and it pleased him to think that in a few minutes he’d be deep inside the little bitch.

  When she drew level to him, Ashton stroked her thick, blonde hair, then dragged his fingers down the front of her body; she gave out a theatrical moan as he squeezed her left tit.

  “It’s that door there. I won’t be long, I just need to piss,” he said.

  The young girl giggled, “Oh, I know which one is Darren’s bedroom.” She winked, then ran her moist tongue over her lips. “I’ll make sure that the bed is nice and warm for when you get back.”

  The warm night air cleared away some of the dope fog when he stepped out into the rubbish-strewn garden. He pushed past a couple of young girls, both wearing next to fuck all, and grabbed the catch on the side gate.

  “For fuck’s sake,” he said when he noticed the huge padlock. “Where the hell did that come from?”

  He found it a little ironic that Darren’s dad had started to lock up the gate that led to the back garden, like there was anything in there worth nicking.

  Now that he was away from the music, he could hear the sirens; it looked as though they weren’t speeding past like he’d first assumed. They sounded pretty close. Ashton wondered what was happening. He guessed that a bunch of kids must have set fire to an old mill or something. Ashton then realised that he didn’t really give a shit, and if he didn’t hurry up and have a piss he’d end up soaking his trousers. He climbed over the gate, squeezed past the disassembled remains of a couple of rusted motorbikes, and hurried through the side yard. Then he jumped onto the half-completed patio that Darren’s dad had started building a few years ago. He saw a nice patch of greenery and ran over to it.

  Ashton unzipped his fly and watered a patch of nettles, sighing in contentment. He closed his eyes and smiled at the thought of that young tart upstairs patiently waiting for him. What the fuck was that tart’s name? His eyes shot open at the sound of two large explosions detonating further up the estate.

  He jerked his head down to the ground when he felt a sharp stinging sensation at the end of his penis. His first thought, that he’d strayed too close to those nettles, evaporated when he saw an old woman had crawled out of those weeds. She had gripped the tip of his penis in her outstretched hand. It was Darren’s mother.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he shrieked.

  He screeched as the woman squeezed his shaft tight and pulled him closer to her open mouth. In panic, he swung back his leg and kicked the woman
full force in her side. It had no effect. It was like booting a rolled up carpet.

  “Get off me, you bitch!” he sobbed.

  Oh God! The pain was unbearable, but it was nothing compared to the excruciating agony that crashed through his body when she clamped her teeth around his penis and slowly closed her jaws, her teeth slicing through skin and muscle.

  Ashton, bellowed out an agonising shriek before falling back into the nettles. He felt the darkness closing in, but this time he welcomed it, so needing that painless oblivion to claim him.

  The woman crawled up his legs, her fingernails easily ripping holes through the denim, Ashton tried to push her off, but the shock and huge loss of blood had made him as weak as a baby. He snapped his head to the side when Ashton heard another noise, hoping that somebody might have heard him screaming. The woman had reached his chest. She raised herself up and let out a soft groan before dropping her face over his neck. Ashton wept at the sight of another crawling figure heading towards him. It was the last thing he saw before the woman bit into the side of his neck.

  Chapter Two

  The black glass taunted Kevin Riley. No matter how much he mentally ordered her to appear, no light appeared in that window across the street. Did she know? This was so unfair; so much for formulating what he believed was an absolute foolproof plan.

  How long dare he wait? Something must have happened, she’s never been this late before. This was so unfair, why did shit like this always happen to him. Kevin Riley glared at his binoculars, and it now felt that they were mocking him too, He gently placed them back on his light blue windowsill and counted to five before he tore his gaze away from his bedroom window.

  His special lady had not missed a single erotic session in all the three weeks and two days that he had been sighing through his own bedroom window. None of the old dirty mags that he’d stolen from his dad’s huge stash or the streaming porn videos that he’d watched could compare with what Mrs. Bradley had been showing him every night.

  It was fifteen minutes past her scheduled time, and no matter how hard Kevin Riley willed it, that comforting, warm, peach glow did not illuminate her room. The curtains had not been thrown back, and Andrea Whitley’s mum was not going to dance in front of her window whilst very slowly taking off every item of clothing.

  “Well, I’m bored, Kev. Now, I’m sorta thinking that either she’s not bothered showing up or that you’re a fucking liar.”

  Kevin blinked, so trying not to cry; he knew a threat when he heard one.

  “So, that’s you fucked up, ain’t it? I mean, how are you going to get your nightly perv now?”

  Kevin placed his binoculars back into their case and turned around to glare at the heavyset boy kneeling on his bed and messing up his Doctor Who quilt cover. His glare increased in intensity when he saw that Thom Crowley was reaching towards his First World War bayonet fastened to the wall.

  “It won’t come off the wall, you know. My dad’s, like, welded it on.”

  He really wanted to tell Thom to stop messing about with his stuff, but that wasn’t going to happen. The lad was twice his size and like a million times harder.

  Kevin now realised that he’d made a major mistake inviting this stupid meathead into his house. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time to ask him to come over. He’d never told anyone about what Andrea’s mum had been getting up to these past few nights before, but what was the point of having a little secret if you couldn’t share it? Especially if it helped out Kevin’s dire situation. Of all the idiots in school, Thom was the only one who treated him with a smidgen of decency. By that, he meant that the lad didn’t nick his money or kick the crap out of him every other day like all the other meatheads in school did.

  He was also a tough little bastard. Nobody messed with Thom Crowley, even the older youths. It made sense, at least to him, that if he could hook up with Thom then perhaps the others would leave him alone.

  Kevin swallowed hard, watching Thom slide one of his plastic soldiers along the edge of the bayonet, and came to the conclusion that bringing him here was probably the worst idea that he’d ever had. Thom was just like all the others, a total dickhead.

  He had already broken an aerial off one of his Space Marines, and torn the bottom of his Alien poster. Now the bastard was casually cutting a German paratrooper in two. How would Thom react if he had called his girlfriend a whore or thrown dirt at his motorcycle? Like Kevin didn’t already know the answer to that one. The fat bastard would simply push his face into a pile of dogshit, simple as. It was all about showing respect, and Thom wrecking Kevin’s stuff just showed that Thom had none for Kevin. Thanks to that bitch not showing up, that situation wasn’t going to change.

  It wasn’t all about respect, though. You needed to have attitude, as well, to show that you weren’t afraid of anything or anybody. Kevin had tried the attitude thing earlier to one of the bigger boys. He’d glared at Ashton Naylor when he’d walked past him close to the chip shop. Once again, Kevin Riley’s stupid ideas put him one step closer to his early grave.

  “I don’t think that your girlfriend is going to give us a show tonight.” Thom threw the two pieces of soldier at him and laughed. “I would have never guessed that you, of all people, would have turned out to be such a little perv. Come to think of it, you probably just made it all up. Fuck knows why, probably to impress me, I guess.” Thom picked up another soldier. “See, thing is, I know for a goddamned fact that if some milf was flashing off her tits and crack, that news would be all over the estate faster than bad curry through a drunken bastard.” He giggled then frowned. “Bloody hell, this headache is driving me bat-shit. Has your mum got any aspirins?”

  “It’s not perving,” Kevin replied, ignoring Thom’s request for painkillers. “She does it right in front of her window with her light on. She ought to close her curtains. I mean, she may as well stand in the middle of the street and do it.”

  It was perving, sure it was. Kevin knew that it was bad to watch, and he ought to be ashamed of himself, but try telling his hormones that. Those bastards had no moral centre, and they certainly had no conscience, and just like everything else, they were a lot stronger than his self control.

  He picked up the two pieces of the soldier, silently breathing a sigh of relief when Thom threw the other soldier across the floor. He wouldn’t be able to repair this one, the damage was too extensive, but he still might be able to use him. Kevin was seriously thinking of building up a diorama, a snapshot of an urban battle. He could use him in that, run over by a tank or something. First though, he needed to get this intruder out of his bedroom before he destroyed anything else.

  “Wait on, Thom. Are you saying that you wouldn’t look?”

  “Of course, I fucking would,” Thom replied. “But you have those binoculars so it’s perving, innit!”

  Kevin sighed.

  “Now, if it was Andrea herself stripping off in that bedroom window, or your lovely sister, then I’d watch through your binoculars,” Thom went on, grinning. “Fuck that, no, if they were up for showing off their body to any passing stranger, then I’d just march into that house and give them a good servicing.”

  Kevin just couldn’t understand why all the boys around the estate drooled over his bitch of a sister. As far as he was concerned, she was a right ugly dog with a horrible personality.

  Thom gave that bayonet one last look before he climbed off the bed. “So, what do we do now? I bet you don’t have any beer in the house or any fags.”

  Kevin knew exactly what he wanted to do, Thom had to leave. How he was going to accomplish that feat was beyond him though. Maybe he’d just get bored and leave anyway.

  “Are you going to ask your mum for some aspirin or what?”

  Kevin silently groaned at the sound of the front door slamming shut. This did not bode well.

  He guessed that his loving sister had just returned from wherever the hell she’d gone, a few hours earlier than he had expected. Her coming b
ack so early could only mean that somebody had upset the hard-faced bitch. That meant she’d take out all her frustrations on her little brother.

  “Whoa!” gasped Thom. “What the fuck is going on out there? Did you see that?” He pushed past Kevin and pressed his face against the glass.

  Kevin spun around, casting aside his worry over what his sister would do to him and gazed through the window. The night sky was lit up like a Christmas tree. There were lights from cop cars everywhere. He opened the window and peered out.

  “What can you see? Has anyone been killed?”

  Kevin shook his head. He didn’t think that any of the police cars were inside the estate. It looked like they were around the perimeter. He wondered if a robbery was taking place. There were lots of shops just beyond the estates, including a couple of banks, so it was a possibility.

  “I bet you that some fuckers been murdered. That’s the only reason why there’ll be so many pigs crawling around.”

  Kevin was almost about to suggest that his notion of a robbery was a bit more realistic when he saw the meathead’s shining eyes. This little thug really did want to hear about a gruesome murder. That gave him a good idea. It might even get the boy out of his bedroom. He took the binoculars out of their case. “Why don’t we go have a look then, Thom?”

  The big lad smiled, “Now that sounds like a good plan to me. Are those things any good?”

  Kevin handed them over, “They are the best money can buy. Look, focus in on that house over the road. The one with the high brick fence around it. You can even count the petals on the roses with those beauties.”

  Thom kneeled down and brought the glasses up to his face. After a moment he dropped them onto the carpet. “What are you going on about? There are no flowers in that garden. Just a great big bloody hole in the middle of the lawn.”