by Ian Woodhead
The Shuffling Dead: Three Novels
The Unwashed Dead
Walking with Zombies
ZombieDead
By Ian Woodhead
Copyright 2012 Ian Woodhead
Published by Flayed Bodies Press
The Unwashed Dead
By Ian Woodhead
Chapter One
Both heels of Ashton Naylor’s size ten boots crashed into the cupboard doors. He sighed loudly when he leaned forward and saw that he hadn’t even scratched the surfaces.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “Not a bastard mark.”
Now if he’d put on his steelers, those fuckers would have gone straight through. He sat back on the kitchen surface and started to build his joint.
The kitchen was the quietest room in the house. The noise from the living room still leaked in, aggravating his annoying headache, but at least it was tolerable. Why the fuck did Darren always have to play this shit? Trance music annoyed the fuck out of Ashton yet it was obvious that he was the only one, judging by the amount of people packed in to the house, jumping up and down and screaming like a huge bunch of fucking retards.
Jesus fuck, this headache was bad, and he contemplated grinding up a few painkillers and sprinkling them into the joint as well.
The door abruptly burst open; he jumped and dropped his papers and tobacco onto the tiles. Ashton watched the papers drift down and land in a pool of spilled lager. He lifted his head, feeling the rage build up. His gazed settled on some scruffy tart holding the door handle and smiling at him, like he was a fluffy bunny in a pet shop window.
Ashton didn’t have a clue who she was, not that it should have surprised him; it wasn’t his fucking party was it? The house belonged to his mate, Darren Belmont, and he knew nearly every fucker on the estate.
“Shut that bastard door!” he screamed. “And make sure that you’re on the other side you dumb bitch.”
The girl yelped and ran back into the room. He closed his eyes and slowly counted to five; maybe that had been a little harsh. From what he saw, the lass had quite a decent body on her and if she was swanning about at one of Darren’s do’s then she was bound to be a bit loose. Not quite wizard’s sleeve, she only looked about fourteen, but still, he was sure the girl would have been a good lay. He dug into his pocket for his packet of Rizlas, if he thought that a shag would get rid of this fucking headache, he’d be after her like a shot.
The door began to open again, and he felt his rage boiling over, Ashton didn’t care who it would be, that cunt was going to get knocked out. His anger cooled ever so slightly when he saw Darren standing there, looking a little bemused
“Have you been upsetting my guests again Ashton?”
Darren strolled over and snatched the Rizlas out of his trembling fingers. “What the fuck is up with you today, guy? You’ve been acting like a puff with a sore arse all bastard day.”
“My head’s fucking banging that’s what,” he snapped. “I should have stayed home and gone to bed or something.”
Darren gave him the papers back all gummed and ready. “You too, eh? There must be something going round,”
Ashton muttered thanks and fished out his battered baccy tin from his jacket pocket.
“My mum said she had a headache too.” Darren replied.
“Where is she now?”
He shrugged. “Search me, Mum fucked off to the shops with Dad a bit back for some more tablets, they’re probably in the pub by now getting pissed. Good riddance too. I can do without those two old bastards coming back here; they’d have a right fit if they saw the state of the place.”
After the third attempt, Ashton managed to prise the lid off his tin.
“Is it your old man? Is he still giving you a hard time?
He slowly shook his head; apart from this pain, he wasn’t sure what was wrong with him, his dad hadn’t bugged him for weeks, he hadn’t even seen the cunt for three days now, he reckoned that his dad was seeing that old trout with the big tits who worked in the Horse and Jockey again. He’d probably been staying at her gaff.
“Dunno Daz, its lots of little things this time.”
Darren took out two Bensons and offered Ashton one; he declined and started to sprinkle tobacco along the paper groove.
“It ain’t my dad this time, Darren; he’s been cool with me so far this week.”
“Yeah well, if he does get fresh; just say the word and I’ll deck him for you.”
That meant a lot to Ashton, he would too. Daz was a good mate.
“Do you know Kevin Riley?”
Darren shook his head then grinned; “Oh yeah, that’s Adrian’s little brother, a spindly little bastard with a big nose.”
Ashton nodded. “The indignant little fuck looked at me funny this morning.”
Darren burst out laughing. He felt the rage returning. Mate or no mate, nobody laughed at Ashton.
Darren placed both hands on Ashton’s arms, “Calm down guy, I ain’t laughing at you, just the situation. I know what it’s like; all the little things build up and make you explode like a big fucking volcano.”
“Erupt.”
“What?”
“It’s erupt, that’s what volcanoes do.”
“Whatever, I know what I mean. Look pass me that spliff will you, you’re making a right fucking mess of it.”
Ashton gratefully handed over his gear and gripped his black denim jeans so Darren wouldn’t see just how badly his hands were shaking, he watched with astonishment as his mate built up the joint like a seasoned pro. Darren made it look so easy.
He handed Ashton the now completed spliff. “Somehow, my old man found out that it was me who did those two houses on Beacon Park.”
“Who grassed?”
Darren shrugged, “Doesn’t really matter now, it’s not like anyone will own up. I’m more bothered about what the old bastard will do now.”
Darren’s dad used to be a legend a few years back. 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 out of a heating vent. It appeared that his son had inherited his skill for breaking and entering; much to his dad’s horror.
Ashton shook his head, “I don’t think you should beat yourself up about it mate. He’ll not do bugger all, he didn’t last time did he.?”
His dad had personally threatened to shop his own son to the police if he ever found that Darren had chosen to follow the same career path as his old man.
Ashton used both hands to place the spliff between his lips and allowed Darren to light the end.
“Two’s?”
Ashton nodded.
“Don’t you worry about me;” said Darren, “let’s get you sorted. Now why didn’t you accept my little present?”
Ashton shook his head; this grinding headache was affecting 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 “She’s like twelve or something.”
“Claire’s sixteen, dude 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.
“She’ll sort you out lad; I promise you that young Claire will fuck the stress out of you.”
Darren fumbled around in his back pocket, then handed him a
small key. “You wanna hear something really funny? Claire is Kevin’s older sister. 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.”
He 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 cunt’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 and threw it over his shoulder then gazed out of the window. The party had now spilled out into the garden, he wondered if anyone had called the police yet.
In the distance, he saw a cavalcade of blue flashing lights; it looked as though the filth was otherwise engaged tonight.
“I’d better go piss.” he muttered.
Predictably, the bathroom door was locked; Ashton put his ear to the door and listened. The sound of panting and groaning reached his ear, he looked at the key in his palm and grinned, it looked like someone didn’t have the same perks as Ashton. He banged his fists on the door and giggled at the sound of something hitting the floor, He was willing to bet a fiver that some cunt in there had just fallen over.
“Fuck off!” came the muffled reply.
Ashton recognised that voice; it belonged to Bill Curry, one of Ashton’s dealers.
“Open up you dirty fucker, I wanna go piss.”
“I told you, I’m busy.”
He brayed 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. He decided to fertilize the many weeds that infested Darren’s back garden, besides he needed a bit of fresh air, perhaps it would help to clear his thick head.
The girl who 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 not like he intended to use it.
“Let her through.” he snarled.
Like Moses parting that sea in Greece or whatever, 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.” he said.
The girl smiled, “Oh, don’t you worry, and I know where Darren’s bedroom is.” She winked and brushed past him. “I’ll make sure that the bed is nice and warm for when you get back.”
The cool night air felt like he’d just had his lungs de-iced 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 saw 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, like there was anything in the garden worth nicking.
Now that he was away from the music he could hear the sirens. 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 motorbikes and hurried through the side yard and jumped onto a 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 her name? His eyes shot open at the sound of two large explosions detonating further up the estate.
“Jesus! It’s a bit fucking lively round here tonight. Where the fuck do you get fireworks in July?”
He jerked his head down to the ground when he felt a sharp stinging sensation at the end of his penis. His first thought of him straying 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?”
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 as she clamped her teeth around his penis then snapped her teeth together, slicing it in two. Ashton collapsed, gasping, he was close to passing out. She crawled over his prone body, he tried to push her off, but the blood loss had made him as weak as a baby.
He looked towards the gate in the hope that someone had heard his screams; instead he saw another crawling figure heading towards him. It was the last thing he ever saw before the woman fastened her jaws around his neck.
Chapter Two
That blackened window was taunting him; he counted to three then looked through the eye piece one more time just to make sure. The light still hadn’t come on. Where the bloody hell was the woman? Mrs. Bradley had never missed a session in all the three weeks he’d been watching the window. No matter how hard Kevin Riley willed it, that comforting, warm, peach glow did not illuminate the room. The curtains weren’t thrown back and Andrea Whitley’s mum was not going to get undressed in front of that window.
“I take it that the woman still hasn’t shown up yet, Kev. Does that mean you ain’t gonna get your nightly perv?”
Kevin put his binoculars down on the window sill and turned to glare at Thom Crowley. His glare increased in intensity when he saw him reaching up to touch his First World War bayonet that was fastened to the wall.
“It won’t come off you know. My dad’s like welded it on.”
He really wanted to tell Thom to stop fucking 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 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 watched the boy 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 he’d ever had. Thom was just like the others, a total dickhead.
The boy had already broken an aerial off one of his Space Marines and was now busy cutting a German paratro
oper in two.
“I don’t think that your girlfriend is going to give us a show tonight is she?” He threw the two pieces of soldier at him. He laughed “I would have never guessed that you, of all people, would have turned out to be such a little perv.”
He giggled then frowned, “Bloody hell, this headache is driving me bat-shit. Has your mum got any aspirins?”
“It’s not perving,” he 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.”
He picked up the two pieces of his soldier and put them on the window sill next to his binoculars, he’d have a go at repairing him when he’d gotten shut of Thom.
“Are you saying you wouldn’t look?”
“Of course I would,” he replied. “But you have those binoculars so it’s perving innit!”
Kevin sighed.
“Now if it was Andrea herself stripping off or your lovely sister, then I’d watch.” He replied grinning.
Kevin didn’t understand why the boys around the estate all drooled over his sister, as far as he was concerned, she was a right ugly dog.
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 didn’t have a clue what to do now; he hadn’t thought that far in advance. That was a lie, he did know what he wanted, and he needed to get shut of him before he destroyed anything else in his bedroom.