Thunder cracked from the dark skies above and a streak of lightning illuminated the low, overhanging gray clouds. The bad stormy weather was coming, I could smell it in the atmosphere.
A scream from the house behind me distracted my attention and I turned back to glance at the conservatory. What the hell was Smith doing to Ralph Pinchbeck? Maybe I didn’t even want to know. He was going to make the guy pay with pain and lots of it. Sometimes I felt I never really knew Smith at all. What went on in the guy’s head was a total puzzle not worth trying to figure out. Still, we all had our demons and mine were no better. At that moment I deeply regretted trying to tell Batfish what went on inside my insane head.
The sound of running footsteps to my left brought me out of my inner reflections. Zombies didn’t run and as far as I knew there were no undead inside the tennis club compound. It had to be Burland making a race for it. I ran across the lawn and headed between the two privet hedges. My head pounded with the injuries sustained earlier and my lungs burned. I wanted a cigarette.
The lockup door still hung open to my right and the grounds to the left were dark and covered in deep shadow by the line of palm trees alongside the paved walkway leading back to the clubhouse. I tried to think. Where would Burland go? Maybe he’d take his chances and scurry off into the forest beyond or did he and Ralph still have a working vehicle?
I trotted along the narrow road, struggling for breath and gripping my handgun at my side. Another sheet of lightning illuminated the roadway in a ghostly pale sheen. I saw the thoroughfare curved to the right so I kept pounding along the blacktop surface. The air smelled fresh and the humidity lifted. Thunder rumbled overhead as though God himself was pissed off with what was going on down in the world and He was smashing up the heavens.
A high, wire mesh gateway stood at the end of the roadway. The lightning flashed again, silhouetting some ragged figures outside the gates. They clawed at the wire and I heard their deathly moans. The undead crowded around the entrance to the tennis club and Burland hadn’t tried to escape the compound. Perhaps he was hiding out in the darkness, skulking around between the trees someplace. I had to be on my guard. The bastard could try leaping out from the shadows and attacking me at any moment. Jesus! I wanted a cigarette so badly but I’d have to suffer and get by without nicotine for the time being.
The wind whipped up and blew through the palm trees flanking the roadside. The huge leaves and sprouting branches rustled overhead against the strong breeze. A powerful storm was coming and being outside when it hit was a bad idea.
I heard another sound blend with the incoming storm and the moans from the undead beyond the gated compound. The revving of a vehicle engine grew louder and I knew it was approaching from somewhere behind the trees and bushes to the right of the road. It could only be Burland trying to escape the tennis complex.
Between the plants and tree trunks, I caught sight of a boxy shape swerving around on the hard surface on the opposite side. The vehicle didn’t have the lights on and it looked as though the driver was having trouble navigating the route through the unlit area, which looked like some kind of narrow service access road.
The car swerved around the bend, hitting the curb in the process but the driver managed to correct his over steer and head onto the main route where I was standing. The headlamps flashed on full beam, half blinding me with bright light. I heard the engine roar harder and the vehicle gathered speed.
The bastard was heading straight at me and I couldn’t see a damn thing.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
I raised my left arm in front of my face in an attempt to shield my eyes from the bright car headlamps. Burland was heading right at me, the speed of the vehicle he drove increased with every second that seemed to tick slowly by.
I had to think of something, and quickly.
I aimed the handgun at the headlights and fired two rounds, one after the other. I hoped Burland would stop the car once bullets were flying in his direction. One of the headlights popped and shattered, I couldn’t see where the other round ended up. Burland didn’t stop. The son of a bitch carried on driving, hitting the gas pedal hard.
I leapt to the side as the car sped by me. The vehicle looked like the shape of a small 4 x4 or a jeep of some kind. I stumbled up the high curbside and onto the grass verge to the right of the road. Burland continued driving on by me, heading to the wire mesh gates at the end of the road, marking the access boundary to the tennis club. I aimed my handgun and fired a couple more rounds. The side window shattered and I heard Burland scream.
The vehicle swerved slightly but carried on moving. The tail lights blazed red in my vision. Heavy rain spots started dropping from the dark sky, slapping against the palm tree leaves above my head.
I watched in horror as Burland drove the speeding car straight for the twin, wire meshed gates. The figures beyond the wire didn’t budge. They kept their ghostly stance, not afraid one jot of an oncoming vehicle. I couldn’t take my eyes off the scene. It was like watching a car wreck in motion before it even happened. Even the increasing rain, the large drops stinging the cuts on my head couldn’t force away my gaze.
The car smashed into the gate on the left side first. The chain or whatever restrained the gates buckled and gave way under the impact. The right gate flew open outwards, knocking down at least a dozen zombies like bowling pins. The metal gate on the left side bowed in the center but somehow buried itself beneath the vehicle, causing a shower of sparks as it scraped against the blacktop.
Burland obviously lost control of the steering. The left side front wheel smashed against the curb with the metal mesh gate still bent up underneath the front of the vehicle. Several zombies were also caught up in the strange combination of twisted metal and rolling automobile. The whole car lurched to the right and skidded on its side, producing a grating noise that made me wince. Glass shattered and steam rose from somewhere beneath the vehicle as it slammed against the curb and came to a juddering halt around twenty feet beyond the wrecked boundary gates.
“Oh, shit!” I hissed. “This is bad.”
I half expected Burland to crawl out of the side door, which was now the top of the vehicle but he didn’t appear. Thunder boomed overhead and a double flash of lightning illuminated the carnage in a pale white glow.
A few undead surrounded the beached vehicle, reaching in through the shattered windows. The ghouls prodded and grabbed and tore at the obviously injured driver still inside. I heard Burland scream before one of the undead crawled through the smashed rear window and inside the vehicle interior. More undead clustered around the immobile car, all jostling for a way inside. A few of them grew bored or realized the hunt for human flesh was futile behind all the other undead and wandered through the demolished gates to explore the newly unfortified territory. The undead staggered along the road and more began to join them.
I had to get back to the house and warn Smith of the impending danger. It was pointless trying to fight off the number of zombies pouring through the open entrance and into the compound. The gates were beyond a quick repair and attempting to save Burland was out of the question. He was gone. He was surrounded by zombies and shrieking inside the car. I’d heard that deathly scream from many people, right before they were ripped to shreds by the undead. It was never a pleasant sound, even for a lowlife, child murdering scumbag like Burland.
I turned, slipped on the wet grass underfoot but somehow stumbled off the verge and back onto the road. The rain fell so hard it seemed to bounce back up off the blacktop. The thunder overhead briefly drowned out the moans of the undead as they staggered along the road. I headed back to the house at a jog but couldn’t even think of how we were going to ever get out of the damn tennis club alive. I felt annoyed with myself at not stopping Burland in time. What the hell was he even trying to do anyhow?
I couldn’t start to think about his motives for trying to drive a small vehicle into heavily secured gates. Maybe he’d watched too many movies where
the guy driving just batters his way through any obstacle that comes his way or perhaps he was so shit scared of what Smith and I were going to do to him he couldn’t think straight. Either way, it was total, suicidal madness what he’d attempted.
I stayed in the shadows of the palm trees as I ran along the road, attempting to stay slightly hidden from the undead behind. If they saw me, they’d follow no matter what. At least if I was out of sight it might give Smith and I a few minutes head start on the flesh eating pack.
The heavy rain disorientated me slightly but I knew I was on the right track when I saw the open roller door of the lock-up. I reeled around to the right, heading between the two privet hedges and onto the backyard pathway. The exterior security light blinked on, partially blinding me as I neared the house. I’d had enough of bright lights shining in my eyes for one night and bundled through the conservatory door. The water dripping off me caused my feet to skid on the wet tiles and I nearly went down on my ass. Luckily, I still held the handle as I closed the conservatory door behind me. I held on and stopped myself slipping over. I shut the door and moved steadily through the conservatory. I reached the back door, which was still open with the corridor light streaming across the floor.
I moved through the doorway and stopped when I heard a scream. The noise sounded like somebody was in real, excruciating pain. Surely the undead couldn’t have reached the house before me. There were no other routes and although I wasn’t the fastest jogger in the world, I was sure no zombie could outrun me.
The screaming sounded again. I moved through the doorway, closed the door and locked it behind me. I raised my handgun and plodded slowly forward through the hallway. Another agonized scream caused me to stop dead in my tracks. The sound of human suffering seemed to be coming from the basement. The door that Smith had kicked out still lay on the floor next to the wall and the entrance was still open, glowing with that weird green light. Where the hell was Smith? Then it dawned on me. Smith was probably down in the depths torturing Ralph Pinchbeck. Did I really want to go down there and witness what kind of horrors Smith was inflicting on the guy?
I had no choice. I had to warn Smith of the impending danger the pack of approaching undead posed and if anything, I had to stop all the screaming going on down there. There was nothing to attract a whole bunch of zombies more than the sounds of a living human squealing in pain.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
I bit my bottom lip as I ducked down and slowly stepped through the low doorway leading to the basement. The screams grew louder as I descended the staircase. I heard muttered talking but couldn’t decipher the words. I knew from the tone it was Smith talking some cold blooded, brutal shit.
The gruesome, lifeless child models on display seemed to watch me while I cautiously padded through the basement towards the source of the voices. I headed to the brightly lit area to the rear of the long room, where Smith and I had earlier been restrained in the gurney frames.
Smith stood beneath the overhead light with his back to me. He was leaning forward and talking in a low growl down to somebody in front of him. I stepped closer not knowing what the hell I was going to see.
“Smith?” I said in a hushed tone. “Smith, we have to get out of here right now.”
Smith turned to face me. He held a metal scalpel in his right hand and spatters of blood coated his forearm. The malevolent, almost evil expression on his face was not one I liked. My gaze followed beyond Smith. Ralph Pinchbeck sat in an office chair in front of Smith. The same orange straps we’d been restrained in the gurneys were wrapped and tied tightly around Ralph’s wrists and the arms of the chair. His head lolled from side to side and blood streamed down his right cheek and ran down each side of his head.
I gasped at the grisly scene. Smith had cut the guy’s eye out and also sliced off the top parts of his ears.
“Where’s the other guy?” Smith asked. His tone was hoarse and it didn’t sound like him talking. “You look like a damn drowned rat.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off the gruesome scene in front of me. Pieces of flesh and a jelly like substance, I guessed was the remains of an eyeball lay amongst a pool of blood surrounding the office chair. Ralph groaned and his head flopped forward. It looked as though the guy had passed out trying to endure the pain.
“Where is the other guy, Wilde Man?” Smith repeated but louder.
I shook my head slightly, attempting to clear my mind and pretend everything was normal.
“Oh, he’s gone, he’s dead,” I mumbled.
“Did you plug him?”
“What?”
“Did you fucking shoot him, Wilde?” Smith pointed two fingers at me with his left hand, cocking his thumb like a firearm hammer. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I knew I had to get my head together.
“Yes, well kind of,” I stammered. “Listen, Smith, Burland jumped into a car he had stashed on the complex someplace. He drove the damn thing right at me so I fired off a couple of shots at him inside the car. I don’t know if I hit him or not but then he drove right through the gates right on the tennis club boundary. He smashed right through the gates but he totaled the car in the process. The downside of it all is there’s a shit load of undead heading this way.”
“Fuck,” Smith spat.
Ralph moaned and raised his head slightly.
“What the hell are you doing with this guy?” I asked, pointing at the tortured man in the chair.
“Just providing him with a little pain and suffering before he dies,” Smith said coldly. “I think those kids over there would want some kind of revenge on this asshole.” He spat in Ralph’s bloodied face. “The bastard told me he took a whole class of kids from a school in the town, with false promises to the staff he’d keep them safe inside the tennis complex. The sick fuck murdered them all for his fucking horrible displays.”
“He deserves all he gets, Smith,” I said. “But right now we have to think of an exit strategy. Those zombies out there will find this house and surround it. We’ll be trapped in here if we don’t move soon.” I felt a rise of panic in my guts and at least my thinking was returning to some kind of normal function. “Do whatever you got to do here and let’s go.”
Smith nodded. He turned back to Ralph Pinchbeck and raised the scalpel out wide. I anticipated Smith was going to slice through Ralph’s windpipe. But he didn’t. Instead he dropped the scalpel to the floor and turned away.
“Nah, fuck him,” Smith grunted. “We’ll leave him in pain and we’ll let the undead have him. A quick death is too good for that fucker.”
Ralph wailed and tried to speak but his words were nothing more than animal like squawks. Smith and I left the work station and strolled through the basement, heading for the staircase.
“Did you find the rest of our gear?” I asked as we reached the steps.
“Yeah, I found it,” Smith sighed. “It’s all in the study room upstairs. They smashed the radios though. We won’t get hold of Mac and Wingate now.”
“That’s just great,” I groaned, climbing the stairs.
We squeezed through the low doorway at the top of the staircase and Smith led the way to the study room along the corridor, the room Burland and Ralph had sprung from earlier. Wipe boards lined the walls and easels with large sheets of paper attached stood around the floor space. Lightning flashed outside, brightening the sky beyond the window in front of me. A work desk stood against the wall to the right with our jackets, backpacks and gun holsters piled on top. We dressed up and Smith checked his handgun. I reloaded but kept my firearm in my hand. I didn’t want to be caught out by any more nasty surprises. Smith pulled out his pack of smokes and I gratefully took one. We smoked the cigarettes as we checked our gear.
“What about our rifles and the SMAW launcher?” I asked, thinking about the weapons we’d left in the clubhouse locker room.
“We’ll have to go get them,” Smith replied. He shook his head. “We can’t rely purely on these damn handguns.�
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“It’s been one hell of a night,” I sighed. “And there’s one hell of a storm blowing its ass off out there.” I wasn’t looking forward to going back out into the storm amongst a whole load of walking corpses.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
We washed our faces in the kitchen sink and I gave Smith a brief rundown of the layout of the road leading to the entrance gate before we set off into the stormy night. We had to be fully alert if we wanted to escape the tennis club compound, even though we’d been up all night and taken a battering in the process.
I opened the back door leading to the conservatory. The outside light had clicked on, bathing the backyard in bright light. The motion sensor had been triggered by several staggering bodies shuffling across the grass and along the pathway.
“Shit,” I barked. “They’re already out there. Lots of them.”
“We’ll go out the front way,” Smith said, closing the back door.
“I just hope it’s clear,” I said. “There are no other routes out of here.”
Smith rumbled an incoherent response and we made our way through the house to the front door. I opened it a crack and peered outside. A few rain sodden undead mooched around the front lawn. They looked aimless as though they had no intended purpose, unlike the zombies around the back of the house.
I turned back to Smith.
“Go for it,” he snorted. “Try not to use the firearms.”
I nodded, wishing I had some kind of long handled weapon to hand. I slipped through the door and Smith followed behind me. The storm had eased up slightly, the thunder and lightning seemed to have passed over but the rain still lashed down relentlessly. The first signs of daylight crept across the gray and black patchy sky. I didn’t know if Smith had deliberately left the front door open so the undead would gain access to the house and eventually discover Ralph Pinchbeck in the basement.
The Left Series (Book 7): Left Amongst The Corpses Page 18