by Ian Woodhead
“Oh yes!” shouted Darren. “That’s money in the bank.”
He heard Stephanie call him a heartless bastard. Darren just laughed back at her. He tried to imagine what he would have done in the poor kid’s place. Kevin had been lucky when he got out of the house; there were only a couple of the things after him not a thousand. He opened his eyes and looked at the bayonet, would he have had the guts to slit his own throat?
Kevin wanted a gun, it wasn’t fair. Darren said that Steph could have one because she was more of a man than he was. He wasn’t too sure whether he liked the new Stephanie yet. He preferred it when she clung to him like a limpet and squealed at every sudden movement, a bit sad and pathetic. Kevin sighed, a bit like he still was.
“Okay, it’s time to fuck off. I’m not keen on staying here when those fuckers arrive.”
Kevin decided that it was time to make his stand. He shook his head. “I’m not going to the cemetery.”
“Oh for crying out loud, not this bullshit again, now you listen to me, you fucking retarded clown. They are not fucking zombies. It’s a chemical bastard weapon. The dead have not come back to life.”
“Bollocks,” he replied. “I know what I saw and I saw some dead thing crawl up my fucking stairs!” he screamed.
Darren sighed and thrust his hand out in front of him “Look lass, he’s your fucking baggage, you sort him out.”
Darren jumped off the shed and hurried into the back garden. “Don’t take forever either, cos I ain’t waiting.”
She walked up to Kevin, hugged him tight and kissed him gently on the lips. “I do believe you Kevin.”
“But you still want to go with him.”
She nodded. Kevin felt like he’d just been punched in the stomach.
“Darren is a foul mouthed dickhead but he’s handy with a gun and at least he’s still alive.”
“Only just.”
“Oi Darren!” she shouted. “Is that bone yard still in use?”
“Nobody’s been planted in there for over fifty years.”
“You see? There’ll be six feet of hard packed soil between your feet and a few old bones, besides what other option do we have?”
Kevin slowly nodded, “Okay then.”
They both jumped down and caught up to Darren who was busy trying to climb over a six foot fence. Stephanie scaled it easily and helped the reluctant Darren to the top, Kevin didn’t need any help, he reached the top and looked behind him. He couldn’t see the approaching things just yet.
The cemetery was just off the next street, he’d never thought about how odd it seemed until now to have some deserted old graveyard smack bang in the middle of a housing estate.
“I wonder who he is.”
Kevin looked up to see a dark blue van slowly glide past the front of the house. “Do you think they could be soldiers?”
“What are you asking me for?”
“I’ve seen that van tonight already,” muttered Stephanie.
“Yeah well, I don’t think we’re the only ones still alive in Breakspear. They ain’t gonna get right far in that old thing,” said Darren. “That tin box will stop the zombies but as soon as the soldiers see that, they’ll blast it sky high.”
Kevin watched the van turn off into a side street and disappear. “I wonder what he’s doing.”
“He’s selling ice cream you fucking retard,” sneered Darren.
Stephanie giggled.
“It’s fucking obvious what he’s doing ain’t it. He’s looking for survivors.”
“You mean like us?”
Darren glared at Kevin, “The answer’s no. we ain’t gonna start running after that van. Besides, I’ve got us a foolproof plan to get us out of here.”
“So what’s in that cemetery, Darren?”
“You ain’t from round here are you, lass?”
She shook her head, “No we were just visiting. We live in Leeds.”
“Well if you follow me sweetheart, you’ll be back in Leeds in a few hours. There’s a stretch of land separating the old church from the graveyard and there’s a manhole right in the …”
“If you’re thinking of that Rat tunnel,” interrupted Kevin, “Forget it. The council blocked it up a few years ago.”
“Interrupt me again and I’ll throw you in those nettles. I bet you didn’t go down there before it got blocked up did you.”
Kevin shook his head.
“I didn’t think so, you little chickenshit. Well, that tunnel is part of a network and apparently one of the tunnels leading off goes all the way into the rise.”
“But how do we get in if it’s been blocked off?”
Darren jumped down, “There’s another way in.”
Kevin glanced behind him; those things were now visible and were getting uncomfortably close. He followed Steph and climbed down. He wondered where they we heading, he had the feeling that they were heading to the cemetery too.
They all ran through the garden and onto the main road, this was the main bus route through the estate, the shops and the local pub were just a bit further down. They hurried over the deserted road and onto the grass verge on the other side. The council had erected a chain link fence all around the church and the cemetery, Kevin remembered it going up, and he also remembered how long it took them to finish it. The estate kids kept tearing it down every time they the workers buggered off home.
Kevin followed Darren as he walked along the perimeter; they passed dozens of repaired holes, it wouldn’t be long before they found one that the council had missed. Darren stopped dead, “Bloody hell! It looks like we ain’t the only ones to think of this place.”
A whole section had been flattened into the grass; it looked like someone had rammed a car into it. Kevin followed the others through then glanced back. His blood turned to water when he saw a group of zombies turn the corner and head in their direction. He looked the other way and saw a load more shambling towards them.
“What the fuck are we going to do?”
Darren’s arrogant features slipped for a moment to reveal a very scared looking boy. He looked at the shotgun and then back at the approaching horde of people. “Let’s just hope to fuck that it really is there.”
“We’re surrounded.” muttered Stephanie.
“Yeah well fuck ‘em. We’ll be out of here in a few minutes anyway.”
Darren sprinted over the rough ground like a rabbit, the lad could shift, and they had trouble keeping up. They passed the old church and reached the tumbledown cemetery gates a couple of minutes later, it had been years since he’d been here and never at night.
Just then, the moon broke through the heavy cloud cover, its pale light washing away some of the shadows, revealing the scope and depth of the ruined graveyard. The place had been neglected and forgotten for decades, except for generations of kids from the estate. Kevin suspected that not many of them had shown the respect a place like this deserved. Many gravestones had been knocked down but plenty still remained upright, the lichen covered stones obscuring any number of horrors just waiting to grab them as they passed.
“They’ll be here in a few minutes.” muttered Stephanie.
Darren nodded, distracted, he was busy scanning the ground in front of him. Kevin had the awful feeling that Darren had never been here before.
“Is that what you’re looking for?” said Stephanie, pointing to a large block of stone set right in the middle of the cemetery.
“Yes that’s it, the mausoleum, there ain’t no flies on you is there.”
Kevin forced his eyes away from the approaching horde, he was sure that they were slowing down. He stared into the graveyard, just daring for something in there to move. Stephanie was right about it being full of mouldering bones, how could anything in there hurt him? It didn’t stop him from gasping at loud when he did see a shadow move.
“What the fuck was that?” he shouted.
Darren jumped, “For fuck’s sake man, you scared the shit out of me, what’s up with you?�
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Kevin just pointed at the corpse slowly lurching up the path. Kevin wanted to punch the air and then punch Darren for doubting him yet again. Stephanie raised her pistol.
“Put that away you silly cow. Jesus!”
He marched up to the thing and smashed the butt of his shotgun into its face, the head jerked back before the whole body dropped to the path. Darren lifted up one of his feet, winked at Stephanie before he slammed it through the head.
It cracked open like a rotten egg, spilling black gelatinous syrup across the weed choked gravel path. Stephanie turned away.
“Oh Jesus,” she gasped, “the vile bastard.”
He saw a few more of the filthy things, all in various stages of advanced decay, staggering between the gravestones. He moved closer to Stephanie.
“I don’t think they’ll be able to do us much harm, I doubt that they could even open their jaws.”
Darren laughed, “The fuckers probably have to get someone to chew their food up first.”
A young man wearing the remains of a suit staggered up to Darren, as it struggled to lift its arms, he turned the shotgun around and swung the stock into the side of its head. Darren kicked it as he hurried past.
“Come on,” he said, “Stop fucking about.”
Kevin charged over, determined to show him that he was just as capable as Darren.
“Thank fuck for that,” muttered Darren, “I thought it was going to be another of one of dad’s lies.”
Kevin stopped dead; he didn’t think he was supposed to hear that. If all else failed, there was always the top of that stone, it looked high enough. He wondered how hard it would be to climb on the roof and if it was large enough to hold all three of them.
He glanced over his shoulders, to wait for Stephanie; he wished he hadn’t left her now. The zombies and they were zombies, fuck whatever Darren said, were now streaming though the broken fence. This wasn’t going to end well, he knew it.
Kevin turned back to find that Darren was no longer in front of them. He couldn’t see him anywhere, oh Jesus! Had he done a runner and left them in the lurch?
“He’s over there.” said Stephanie.
She pointed at a large red painted metal canister half buried in the soft soil, as he placed his hand against the metal, his whole body shivered.
“Darren? Darren what are you doing?”
The lad didn’t reply to his question. Kevin skirted around another crawling body and walked towards him. “Darren, are you alright?”
As Kevin got closer, he gasped when he saw the state of Darren’s hand; it looked like it had been welded to the outside. Darren began to moan; he turned around and gazed at Kevin.
He took one look at those cold, unfeeling eyes and wanted to scream. Darren pulled his hand off the canister and took one step closer to Kevin, the lad’s hand hung down; it looked like a lump of melted toffee.
“No, please. Not you as well.”
He tried to take his bayonet out but ended up dropping it into the mud.
Kevin shrieked when he saw the left side of Darren’s face explode in a geyser of blood. Stephanie rush passed him and picked up the dropped shotgun, she pushed the weapon into Kevin’s trembling hands. She pulled him over to the entrance of the mausoleum; he saw the thick steel chain wrapped around the bars secured with a padlock and knew there and then that it was over.
Steph started to bash the padlock with the handle of her pistol.
“Can’t you just shoot it off?”
“Of course I can’t shoot it off,” she replied sobbing. “That only works in films.”
She carried on hitting the padlock. Kevin tapped her on the shoulder.
“I think I know why they’ve come here.”
He watched dozens of faces pop up in the windows of the old church, they must have heard the banging.
“I also know where the other survivors are too.”
Steph groaned. “Oh sweet Jesus, they’ve come here to feed.”
Chapter Fourteen
It had been five minutes since he’d last looked at his watch and ten minutes since Ernest had pushed his thin body into the cupboard under the sink. Looking for a potential bolthole used to be second nature when he did the houses over. A convenient hiding place had saved his skin on many occasions back in his past. He didn’t think that he’d taken it to this extreme before though.
They had to be gone by now, probably further up the street in another house. He hadn’t heard a sound for ages. He pushed open the cupboard door and peeked out between a bottle of bleach and washing liquid. The kitchen was deserted. It was time to go; he couldn’t stand another second in here. The cramped space wasn’t bothering him, he just had to get away from this smell, Jesus, and he was getting high off it. He’d never be able to clear his nose of peach infused washing liquid and pine disinfectant, he could even taste the stuff. He pushed all the bottles to the side and wiggled out, Mrs Watson had gone to hide upstairs, he hoped she was okay, thinking that she would have come downstairs by now. He took a deep breath and stretched his limbs; it felt so good to be able to move again.
Ernest wandered over to the kitchen window, and looked out, hoping to see where they had moved to.
His heart almost gave out when he saw that they were still outside the house, oh Christ! They had Mrs Watson face down in the road, he heard her cry out when one of them booted her in the side.
The front door burst open, Ernest ran back towards the cupboard when two masked soldiers ran into the kitchen with their weapons raised.
“Get down on your knees, now!”
He dropped to the floor and raised his hands, Ernest watched the short stocky one slowly advance, the barrel of his gun never wavering. He watched the soldier’s finger tighten on the trigger; Ernest closed his eyes, hoping that it would be over fast. A bullet in the brain was a far better way to die then to have a group of dead people banquet on his flesh.
“Oh this is fucking unreal,” said the soldier, laughing. “He was under the bloody sink all this time.”
He felt a pair of gloved hands frisk him down, Ernest dared to open one eye, shocked that he still breathed. The soldier bent over his body as his searched him. He stayed as still as possible, it had been many years since he’d been searched but he knew the procedure, he also knew what happened when you resisted.
“He’s clean.”
The soldier stood up and for the first time, he caught a glimpse of him through the face-plate. Bloody hell, he was only a kid, about Darren’s age. He just hoped his lad had managed to escape, if anyone could, it would be him. Ernest Belmont had made damned sure that his son hadn’t turned out to be a snivelling weakling.
“How the hell did he get in there?” said the other man speaking for the first time. “He must be double jointed or something.”
He was a lot older than the kid, he guessed mid thirties. Ernest daren’t look up to see if the voice fit the face, he had no wish to antagonise them.
“You’d better maker sure you secure the slippery bastard extra well then, we can’t have our bank notes getting away from us.”
The young soldier brought out a bundle of clear cable ties.
“Not here, you bloody idiot. Do it outside.”
“I take it you ain’t the rescue party.” muttered Ernest.
The soldier grabbed his arm and marched him towards the kitchen door. He laughed. “Hell no, we ain’t even in the army.”
“Shut your trap lad.” snapped the other one.
“Oh, come on, Gary, stop being such a misery guts. I mean, just who’s he gonna fucking tell?”
The lad pushed him into the hallway, Ernest stared at the older man as he was marched passed the man, hoping he might see just a glimmer of compassion in his hard eyes. They looked as dead as the shuffling corpses he’d been destroying all night.
“This one’s just earned us another grand. I said there was another one in here didn’t I.”
The one named Gary nodded, “Yeah okay, don’t
rub it in. I reckon that we ought to give that old bitch another good kicking for lying to us.”
Ernest saw red; he caught the boy by surprise and wriggled out of his grip. Fuck antagonising them, he dived on the older man, intending to rip the arrogant fucker’s throat out. The man saw him coming; he just moved out of his way and slammed Ernest’s head into the wall.
The man bent over and lifted Ernest up by his hair. “Nice try sweetheart, I ought to put a bullet in you here and now for pulling a stunt like that.” He lifted him up and threw him at the other soldier, “Just keep hold of him you daft cunt.”
A gloved hand encircled his throat, “You’ve made me look like a right twat.”
Ernest tried to laugh, “You didn’t need my help.”
Gary pulled the boy’s hand away, he grabbed Ernest’s arm and forced it up his back then marched him out into the sunlight.
“Do you see the cunts dressed in white?” said the lad jogging at his side. “They’re gonna slice you and your mum up. They want to find why you ain’t gone the same way as the others.”
Gary threw him down, next to Mrs Watson.
“Are you alright?”
The woman managed to nod.
“The lad bent over him and grinned. “When you feel those scalpels and bone-saw cut into your flesh, I want you to think about all that cash that you’ve earned us.”
Ernest looked into the lad’s mask and spat at him. “You ain’t going to live to see any money my friend.”