“How about you give me one of those guns?”
“I don’t think so!” Bites David.
“So it’s settled then?”
“It will be when you tell us what it is you’ll be doing, instead of avoiding the questions just tell us!”
“I’ll be heading out and I’ll be taking the car.”
“Excuse me?” Blares Mark.
“Why?” asks Jill.
“It’s dangerous going out alone!” Taunts a concerned Martin.
“Please don’t worry; I’m heading out for some decent supplies. Since we are going to be surviving here, I for one don’t fancy another night on a cold floor with a dustsheet for warmth and I know that’ll go for the rest of you. So I’m heading out and hopefully I’ll be able to bring back plenty of buckets, duvets and whatever else I can find. Hence why ill need the car.”
“Martins right, it’s too dangerous going out there solo, what happens when you run into a flesh eater?”
“I’ll take care of it, I’ll have my bat and pistol. Look we need those supplies. No matter what anyone says, it won’t stop me from doing what needs to be done. We can’t hide behind these fences forever, sooner or later every single one of us will have to venture out at some point. The risk will always be there.”
“I know you can handle yourself around those things, here take these!” David passes me the keys to Marks true love including an extra 9mm clip!
“Oi! You better bring her back in one piece!”
“Don’t worry, I will.”
Jill cries, “Never mind the car, you just make sure you get back here bite free, we can always find another car.”
“What!”
“Mark, remember that conversation we had earlier…I suggest you let it go…”
A disgruntled Mark says, “You heard her, leave the car if needs be….”
I could see something wasn’t as it seemed here, she had something over him. Either way it kept him in check and I liked it.
“It’s settled then!”
“Oh, before you go, you should know. There was this guy who lived just around the left corner from the old post office, in number ten. He was a survival nut; I remember seeing him going camping every given weekend. I spoke with him on the odd occasion; he has everything from camp beds to axes. It may be a good place to start.”
“Thanks, if he’s there and alive that would be even better, I’m sure we could do with a guy like that, especially now!”
“I doubt it.”
“Whys that?”
“Chances are he tuck off to his private cabin in the lakes the moment that broadcast hit our systems. But it doesn’t mean he tuck all of his stuff with him, you never know!”
“Very true, I guess I’ll find out soon enough!”
Chapter: 19
“Mark, remember to lock that gate behind me, we don’t want any flesh eaters getting in. Also keep an eye out for me; I may need to get in fast! So don’t leave me hanging!”
“Whatever you say goes boss.”
“Mark.” Whispers Jill.
“Okay, okay I’ll keep an eye out!”
Engine roaring, I scuttle out of the sanctuary as fast as I could. I span down the street, passing David’s road kill along the way. Within minutes I was past the old post office and parked outside number ten. Just as Martin thought, the house sat in darkness, drive empty.
Engine off I exited the car, senses now on high alert, Bothy at my side with a pistol on the waist line; I steadily approached the solid wooden chunk of a door.
‘Maybe I should check the handle, you never know. Maybe he left in such a rush he forgot to lock the door?’ “Damn” ‘My wishful thinking gets me nowhere!’
‘I really didn’t want do this, but looks like I’m going have to smash the door glass, reach in side and open it that way. Let’s hope no flesh eaters come sniffling.’
Whack, Bothy shows no mercy and without effort makes short work of the doors panel glass.
Within second’s I was in, luckily nothing came running on the smash of the glass.
“Wow something doesn’t smell right in here.”
I’m forced to cover my mouth and nose, a smell of death was in the air.
I creek four steps forward after closing the solid barrier behind, the whole house is in such a state. Food cartons littered the floor alongside dirty underwear trailing up the stairs with odd socks. This fella clearly wasn’t expecting guests, it reminded me of my apartment slightly minus the stench!
I stop to take in my surroundings, straight ahead lead me upstairs; to my left is an open planned kitchen, cupboards and draws left wide open, food stuff everywhere, some used tins, some not. The floor is just littered. Whoever lives or lived here to the smells of things was either a slob or just gave up in the end. To my right is a plain white door, with a silver handle, its closed.
After a great debate in my head I decided that the most logical and safest thing to do would be to clear each room individually before gathering supplies, which means the door on my right is the lucky winner.
I quickly clear my head of all things, I focus my mind and I find my stance before raising bothy to an attack formation.
I use my left hand to slightly push down the handle, not enough to open it but enough to loosen its latch.
Both hands now on Bothy, I swiftly use my feet to clear the excess garbage beneath me. Removing all potential slipping or tripping hazards.
I’m calm and ready for whatever lies beyond, I told myself this repeatedly till ready.
“Boom…Clash.” I boot open the door with all my might, before darting in like some kind of hero from a gun slinging movie, ready to cause havoc and destruction to anything in my path.
“Oh...” I quickly turn on sight and puke up David’s spam and beans.
“That’s nasty!” I groan.
In the middle of the floor lies a middle-aged naked torso. No head, no arms and no nothing just a wide open harvested torso coated in clotted blood.
“That’s sick!” I cry, “Shit!”
I then think, ‘This was no accident, someone’s mutilated this guy, but the front door was locked and where’s the rest of him?”
It dawns on me, whoever/whatever did this was no flesh-eater or novice but a professional, the cuts on his body are clean. No bites, no scratches. Whoever did this had a vendetta!
I hold my breath and creep forward some more, where I then take a better look at the remained.
On closure look, I can see the torso was already deep in the decomposed stage; maggots litter the inner shell, skin blue and green.
His been here a while, looks like whoever committed this murder for whatever reason did it before the flesh eaters came about. He must have been here for at least a week. Whoever did it must have taken his car, to make it look like he was on another trip away when in fact he was dead? My bet, I’d find the rest of him with that car.
Meaning we most defiantly have to be more cautious to who we let in, who’s to say that the person who did this isn’t still out there. We can’t risk letting any of the wrong sort in.
I grabbed a nearby brown fluffy throw over, that was located by the closest leather chair. I covered his remains, giving him back some sort of decency.
I then exit the room, eyes sore, throat clogged. I needed to get what I needed and then get the frick out of this stinking tomb.
I dashed up the stairs, which homed two bedrooms and a bathroom. Once I checked to make sure there were no killers or flesh eaters about I got straight to work.
After thirty minutes or so I manged to dig out the following:
Two double layer, 4000mm and aluminium three person tents.
Portable toilet with toilet tent.
Three different style axes all sharp, with sharpener.
One high made bush craft knife with sheave.
One fold down shovel.
One micro screw on stove, with two gas canister’s and shield.
Two 4-5 season nato r
oll mats and one cheap two season roll mat.
Two fold down camp beds and one hammock.
Two four season sleeping bags, one old, one new.
Three fleece blanket’s, all blue in colour.
Two 80L dry bags and one 30L dry bag.
Two emergency bivvy bags, one foil blanket.
Three 1L empty water bottles.
One 12 by 12 foot lightweight tarp.
Two 80L rucksacks made of high quality.
Portable cooking set with spork.
One head torch, two hand torches and one lantern.
Two packs of AAA and AA batteries.
One bag full of boil in the packet meals.
Waterproof clothing size medium.
Casual clothing.
Long range walkie talkies with charger packs.
This guy clearly loved his camping, so much so he held enough outdoor supplies to see at least 6 individuals through a wild camping expedition. I manged to pack down the majority of gear into the two ruck sacks, one of the 80L dry bags, leaving one big bag left.
‘I don’t fancy hulling these bags to the car from the house individually, what if I get cornered’ I thought.
“That’s it; I’ll throw the bags from the front facing windows close to the car meaning less time spent traveling back and forth.”
I dashed to the window, after a sneak peek through the blacked out blinds I could see the street was eerily quiet; It’s worth the risk I thought. I spun open the window and threw each bag as softly as I could close to the parked up vehicle.
Still the area remained still after the clashes; I inhaled a breath of fresh air before softly closing the window.
Now down stairs, nose pinched. I scurried through to the pit of a kitchen, where I then threw anything and everything edible into the bag, including a stash of whisky and brandy hidden behind a tower of kitchen rolls which too were thrown into the bag, accompanied by a selection of 8 bottles of fruit water.
Finally I was done; I picked this place clean, not a bad hall for my first outing minus the decapitated torso in the living room. It was time to leave and move onto the next place.
I headed for the door; I craved the thought of fresh air, after forty minutes or so in this decomposed box.
Chapter: 20
‘The car is looking full now, but the boot is still empty, I’ve got room for one more heist!’ I self-pinged.
“Where to now, where will I be able to get a decent supply of containers/buckets?”
It dawned on me, it was obvious. ‘There’s got to be some kind of café or restaurant around here, there has to be. No matter how rural you are, there is always a hospitality establishment close by!’
Engine started, I’m back on the road, now heading south. There, there it was, only two miles from my previous location, my first true challenge to date came to sight.
Here laid a delightful country pub named; The Buck. Very fitting, this was clearly no ordinary pub but a very old Victoria era farmer’s pub. I could tell via the buildings material and rustic feel, that and the fact it had it wrote across the sign!
As nice and ideal this place was, one issue did concur. The former punters now flesh eaters, had this place on lockdown. The place was heaving with the undead.
I pondered, ‘There’s got to be a way round this, that place will have everything we need, however does the benefit outweigh the risk?’
“I can’t believe I’m seriously debating putting my life on the line for some buckets.. Shit!”
Whilst I’ve been sitting there lost in thought, this roaring beast has gained the attention of at least ten of those horrible dead things which were now heading this way.
I panicked, those things got way too close as I dazed. I slammed my foot on the accelerator and ran those bastards down, their heads bounced off the hood like crackling popcorn “Pop…pop...pop.”
I swung this battered beast around at high speed in retreat; I reached the old post office once again. Pulling the car to one side, engine switched to a close. I sat for a while, I pondered on how I could get in and out detection free. After a minute or two of no luck, I look to the sky in false hope that God would provide the answer, another moment passed, still nothing. Just as I was about to call it a day, about to bring this monster back to life ‘I called it a beast, it weren’t really. It was only a 1.2 but my god was it loud! Too loud!’
I saw it, my answers and hopes all rolled into one, thirty feet away stood an old rusted bicycle, propped up against an ancient tree.
Mind tumbling, ‘This engine is too loud and I don’t want to risk what I’ve already got. Those things were on me faster than I could see them. This engine acts as a magnet!’
The most risky, but smartest idea yet came to mind, ‘I’ll leave the car here and grab the bike, cycle down then around the back of the establishment. I’ll bring Bothy to take out any stragglers once am there, silence is key here. Those things at the front will be in some kind of frenzy, as I was probably the closest thing they’ve came to a meal to date, so it’s probably best avoiding the head on tactic. I’ll get in there; grab what I need then get out.’
“Sorted!”
After ditching the now locked car, I grabbed a hold of that rustic antic of a bike; luckily the tires were still in good nick, the seat however stunk of old boots and cat piss oddly. This wasn’t going to be the most comfy of bike journeys, but it was quiet and swift. Well as swift as a rusty bike can be. Off I went.
Finally I made it to the pub, bite free, I’m held up just behind the establishment, I can see at least two of those flesh eaters beside the back entrance which has been left open. Just right of that exit is a range of rubbish containers, big in statue.
Another bright idea sparked as I scanned the close proximity, ‘Hold on a second, that’s one of those big bins on wheels if it’s empty I could potentially fill it with whatever I can find and then attach some rope of some sort to the bin then wrap the other end to the back seat of my ride. Therefore manually tow the bin, that way I lose the storage issues and gain a potential water tank In the process, Martin will be pleased!’
“Stuff it! If it goes to pot ill just hurry my arse out of here, just like last time.”
I parked the bike and picked up Bothy.
“Here goes nothing.” I dropped to a crouched position, tip toe mode activated; there I made my approach like an assassin, just as I would on my games.
Ten feet away now, still undetected, my heart pounds and sweat runs down onto my brow.
“Smash!” With one whole swoop, I manged to split the first flesh eaters head in half, by a direct blow on top from behind. It didn’t stand a chance.
“Shit!” The second rushes at me, blackened teeth gnarling, flem drooling, hands reaching as it groans.
I throw a swing, hitting it in the nashers, face splattered, yet still it comes, “Fuck!”
The flesh eater grabs hold, jaw hanging, almost touching my gullet. I fall to the ground as I try to push it back, Bothy falls from reach as I hit hard against the concrete.
“GET OFF ME!” I blare.
Its grip tightens, pushing its self-closer. I resist, but it’s so heavy, it’s twice my body weight, teeth now centimetre’s away.
“Fuckkk!” I Squawk.
This is it, I’m done for, I can’t hold out much longer.
“Arghhh…” I scream as I fight the weight of at least twenty stone pushing down onto me.
Groans from behind enlighten, more are coming!
I’ve got one option; go loud, I grip it by the throat with one hand and use my remaining strength to push its head upwards, jaw just missing me; I’m almost completely squashed now.
Here’s my chance, I remove the pistol from my waist and ram the end into its broken mouth before letting go of two rounds.
Now coated in blood, it’s all over my face my hands, luckily none of it got into my eyes or mouth.
I squeeze free from underneath it, body shaking uncontrollably. It was a close cal
l, to close.
I regain composure by rising to my feet, where I close my eyes and take in a deep breath. ‘1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10’ I release.
I open, two more flesh eaters approach, fight or flight rummages through my mind.
I put away the pistol, reach out and retrieve Bothy from the pool of blood that now swamps it.
“I WILL NOT DIE TODAY, TODAY I LIVE!”
Stealth now blown, I charge at full belt screaming on charge like something out of Braveheart, this was the most alive I’ve ever felt in my entire life! I entered some kind of Rambo mode after surviving my first ever real near death experience with a flesh eater.
It was like I was in some kind of blood frenzied trance on a warpath. I squashed the two flesh eaters like flies.
Once I finished splattering the undead heads in, I turn, now facing the back entrance to see another three Flesh eaters pour out.
I reached for my gun, ran up to them and fired off a bullet through each one of their skulls; this was no time to mess about. My cover was blown; it’s kill or be killed.
I trample over their rotting remains and enter the building. I find myself standing in an industrial type kitchen, which included everything to flesh eating chefs. They were in a bad way, looked like they got chewed up pretty badly before turning by the looks of them. One of which, skinny, bald, wore a once white uniform now red, stood beside a gigantic stove, covered in pans containing decomposing food stuff and blood splatter whilst chewing on what was left of an arm. I put an end to it and the others quickly with a squeeze of a trigger.
Luckily the Kitchens swingy door was jammed by a wall of collapsed pans from a nearby storage unit; I think someone tried to make some form of barricade with it. I could hear the moans of the undead creaking through the gapes.
I rummaged through the shelves in search of any form of container; Nothing! Then I spotted the pot wash, just feet away, I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before. Considering it homed a ray of bodily remnants of an ex waiter, he’d been completely torn apart, what was left of his face/brains lined the floor. No way was he ever going to reanimate. The dead made sure of that. Looks as if he must have been the one making the barricade, maybe the chefs helped, looks as if they forgot about the backdoor being open, those at the door who I had just recently ended were ex civilians.
The Northern Slayer Page 6