by Ian Woodhead
He shook his head, “Of course not. I don’t think that’s even possible. Come on Mavis, Do you honestly think I want to do this? What other choice do we have?”
“There are always other choices, say we do get out of here Ernest. What will happen when we eventually die? Will we stay dead or will we rise up from death and spread this plague? Have you considered that? Good lord, we could be the ones responsible for killing our species!”
“You don’t know that.”
“And neither do you. I think we should…”
“I can hear something coming,” hissed Stephanie.
Ernest saw headlights reflecting in the windows of the dark houses and raced over to hide behind the van, the other three were right behind him. He peered through the side window; his heart sank when he saw a convoy of military vehicles rumbling past. They turned off and travelled down towards the old church.
“We have to give ourselves up; it’s the only moral action we have left.”
“Have you lost your mind lass? How can you even suggest that after the way they treated you earlier?”
“Those poor men were terrified, Ernest. The people they answer to will be professional specialists and I’m sure that they’ll treat us with dignity and respect.”
“Jesus lady, what planet did you come from?” muttered the girl.
Mavis ignored her; she smiled and stood up. “Look, I’ll show you.”
“For Christ’s sake woman, sit down!”
She moved out of the way of Ernest’s arms and hurried around the van with her arms in the air.
“Maybe she’s right, Ernest. Maybe we ought to give ourselves up.”
He looked at Kevin and shook his head, “Believe me son, she isn’t.”
The boy tried to stand up but Stephanie reached out and pulled him back. “You ain’t going anywhere.”
Three soldiers saw her and immediately raised their rifles. The woman stopped. Ernest shut his eyes; he just knew what would happen next. He turned and slid down the van and jumped as three gunshots blasted through the air. He heard the girl start to sob and he so wanted to join her.
“Oh Jesus, that’s murder,” she cried. “Why the hell did they have to go do that?”
“There are no vans out there; they have all the specimens they need. Those soldiers are a cleanup crew; they’ll have orders to shoot anything that moves.”
“Can’t we find somewhere to hole up and try again in the morning?”
He shook his head, “I’ve already thought of that one Stephanie, but it has to be tonight.”
“A load more soldiers have just turned up, it looks like they are trying to repair the fence.”
“Ernest opened his eyes, he stood up and joined Kevin by the window, thankfully the van obscured the poor woman’s body.
He slammed his hand against the side of the van, frustrated and angry, it wasn’t fucking fair.
“Why does it have to be tonight?”
“They’ve got eyes in the sky. They’ll use satellite imagery to find us. If we find a nice safe hidey hole, within hour an hour those bastards will boot the door down.”
Chapter Eighteen
“We should have taken that armour off the soldier in the house, Steph. If it’s bite proof, I bet its bullet-proof as well.”
Ernest looked up,” What did you just say?”
“We captured a soldier, he…”
“You said armour didn’t you.”
The boy nodded.
“How could I have been so fucking stupid?” he said, grinning. “It’s staring us right in the face.”
Ernest looked through the side window and whooped with joy when he saw the ignition keys dangling down.
“Okay kids, into the back, let’s get this done.”
Stephanie grinned herself and tapped the side of the van with her knuckle. “It’s a fucking armoured car. Bullet-proof? I bet this bastard is missile-proof!”
Ernest climbed into the cab and started the engine, he hoped those two in the back had secured themselves as he got the feeling that this was going to be a very bumpy ride.
The three soldiers had heard the van start up, he watched them race towards him and waving their arms. He gunned the engine then pressed down on the accelerator then headed straight for them. He shook his head, unable to grasp their stupidity. The sensible course of action would have been to just open fire; he doubted that even the toughened glass would be able to withstand a concentrated barrage of gunfire.
“This is for killing a sweet old lady.” He said.
Two of the soldiers weren’t agile enough to get out of the way; the van clipped them as he drove past. Ernest missed the remaining soldier despite swerving towards him; still, two out of three was a good result.
Ernest drove towards that fence, hoping that the surviving soldier would do the wrong thing and go check on his comrades; he also hoped that they’d turned into deadies just as he bent down to check on them.
Half a dozen suited figures scattered like bowling pins as the van ploughed through the wire fence, he heard a few bullets ping off the bodywork and just prayed that the soldiers didn’t have anything larger in their arsenal, like a tank.
“Holy fuck!” he gasped, when the old church came into view. Despite all the mind numbing terror he’d been through tonight, it still didn’t prepare him for the inhuman carnage and butchery a few metres in front of the van. It was slaughter of biblical proportions. He saw dozens of separate groups of the vile things scattered around the churchyard, systematically ripping up human bodies and chewing on their flesh.
Not everyone had succumbed to the dead horde, he saw a few survivors, clinging on to high walls; a few had even managed to climb onto the remains of the roof. Ernest wanted to close his eyes so he didn’t have to look at them, he watched two of them standing up, and one had even begun to wave. It would have been so much easier if there had been no survivors. Those poor bastards must have thought that he was the cavalry, that Ernest Belmont was going to rescue them.
There was just no feasible way of him helping them; either the deadies or the soldiers or both would swarm over them as soon as he stopped the van.
“Mavis Watson would have tried to help them,” he muttered.
Mavis was dead though, she’d lost her life in the mistaken belief that everybody was a good person deep down. Ernest knew that he was a good person deep down too, but he was also a realist.
He recognised that waving man; he used to come into the mini-market nearly every day for the Daily Mirror and a pack of Golden Virginia. He’d always stop for a few minutes to pass the time of day with Ernest. He raced pigeons.
Suddenly someone behind him opened up with something a little more powerful than a rifle, the noise was deafening; it sounded like hail hitting glass. He didn’t know just how much more punishment his van could take. He pushed the van down the grass slope and headed towards what was left of the cobbled road that ran alongside the church. He heard the girl in the back scream and felt something slam into the back of the partition; had they hit her? He daren’t shout out, instead he prayed and tried to get a little more speed out of the vehicle. Two of the dead stepped out in the front the front of the van, one went under the wheels, he tore his eyes off the road for one second to look around; some of the groups had got to their feet and were making their way towards the cemetery; it was almost as if they all knew where he was going.
Ernest looked into his remaining wing mirror and almost wept with relief when he saw the soldiers weren’t pursuing, they had their hands full now, their gunfire had attracted the interest of a large crowd of the dead.
His wing mirror broke off when he smashed through what was left of the cemetery gates; the mausoleum was now in sight, in two minutes they’d be there and on their way out of this nightmare. Ernest stopped the van and banged on the partition; he looked through the side window and saw a large number of the things heading towards the now stationary vehicle. He picked up the bolt cutters, still wishing that
he had his pool cue, and leaped out of the van.
The other two joined him; they were both covered in blood.
“It’s okay,” said the girl, “it isn’t ours.”
Kevin passed him a metal baseball bat.
“I found it in the back.” said Kevin.
Ernest nodded and gratefully accepted it, the weight felt good, he strode forward and stepped over a fallen gravestone, there were eight of the shambling dead, standing between them and their goal. He dropped the hammer and threw the bolt-cutters towards the mausoleum; he wished he had an extra pair of hands. A dead youth with long black hair and wearing an Iron Maiden t-shirt lumbered over. He swung the bat back, fought off the insane urge to shout ‘Fore!’, and smacked the end into the youth’s temple.
“The body’s gone!” said Kevin.
Emily shook her head, “He dropped further into the cemetery.”
The boy’s voice rose in fear, “Bollocks, it was here, I know it was,” he said pointing to the ground, “You can even see the depression and the blood splats.”
Ernest took his eyes off them when he felt another one coming towards them. An old woman dressed in a night shirt started to moan, she took a couple of steps forward and tripped up over the fallen boy, Ernest slammed the bat into the back of her head; almost yelling in grim satisfaction when he heard her skull crack. He glanced behind him and watched Kevin fire his shotgun point blank at a dead copper’s head.
“Come on!” screamed the girl. “Oh my God, look at that!”
Ernest turned his jaw dropping when he saw them; they were all coming towards them now. He turned back and dodged the snapping jaws of a young woman.
“Get that gate open,” shouted Stephanie, “I’ll deal with the rest.” He saw her raise the pistol and ran over to where the bolt-cutters had landed.
He scooped them up and darted over to the gates. The chain had already been snapped off. He spun around as the panting pair joined him, he pointed to the chain on the floor.
“I didn’t do that,” he said.
Kevin shook his head, “What the hell? It was locked, I swear it.”
The girl pulled the gate open and looked inside, “Come on,” she said, “it’s not like we have a choice is it.”
Chapter Nineteen
He traced his fingers across the smooth stone; it felt like meeting up with an old friend; many pleasant nostalgic memories flooded into Ernest’s mind, certainly a lot better than the horrific imagery currently polluting his poor head. He turned and watched; grinning as the two behind him waded through the ankle deep water.
“How long is this bloody tunnel?” asked Kevin. “I can’t feel my fucking feet now, this water is freezing.”
Ernest pointed to the pale stone. “We are officially at the halfway mark, there’s an alcove set into the wall just a few metres away, and we’ll rest up there until we get our breath back. Unless you want to carry on that is, we should be out on the other side in twenty minutes if we carry on.”
Kevin shook his head, “No, can we stop for a bit? I need to make sure my feet are still there.”
He still had trouble wrapping his head around the fact that somehow they had managed to overcome the overwhelming odds to make it out of Breakspear intact. He’d lost everything and so had Kevin. Stephanie still had a home to go to but she had lost her parents. She’d already explained that she had no wish to visit her home; there were too many memories there. Stephanie wanted to forget about her past, she wanted to make a new life with Kevin, somewhere else, where nobody knew them.
He could understand that sentiment, besides, he got the feeling that if the authorities found out about them, their new lives would be effectively over. He’s already made peace with his inner self and knew that, at least for the time being, he’d have to revert back to his old ways in order to survive. Hotels and bed and breakfasts weren’t free. Neither were clothes and food, something they all needed as soon as possible.
Ernest suddenly stopped and looked back; his senses had gone to red alert. The other two halted their progress and waded back.
“Are you okay?” asked Stephanie.
“Oh hell, they’ve got into the tunnels haven’t they?”
He shook his head, not sure what to think, then he heard something splash into the water further down. Kevin whimpered.
“It’s okay,” Stephanie grabbed Kevin’s hand, “It’s probably just a rat.”
“That was a big fucking rat,” muttered Ernest.
“You don’t think they’re following us do you?” asked Kevin.
Maybe his silent victory was a little too premature; he heard another splash this time much closer.
“It isn’t them,” replied Stephanie, “not unless they can squeeze through those bars. I made bloody sure that the chain was secured.”
Ernest sighed, “Do you not remember that car disappearing down that hole?”
Kevin shook his head.
“It happened about fifteen years ago, just behind the Horse and Jockey. The estate was built on the remains of the original town of Breakspear. They were supposed to have cleared the area and filled in the old sewer system.” He looked up, “as you can see, they’ve missed this one, who knows what others they missed. The estate could be riddled with tunnels.”
“Well that’s just fucking fantastic.” muttered Stephanie.
“But that’s the only way in, isn’t it?”
Ernest wished he’d kept his mouth shut now; the lad looked close to losing it again. He shrugged, “As far as I know, yes. Look lad, I used to use these tunnels all the time, I never saw anything larger than a rat in all that time. Relax kid; it probably is just a bloody rat.”
His hand tightened on his bat when he heard another splash, this time it came from in front of them.
“That’s no rat,” said Stephanie.
Kevin raised the shotgun. “Oh bloody hell! They’re in front of us too, the bastards have us surrounded, and it must have been them who cut the chain.”
Stephanie placed her hand on the barrel and pushed the barrel down “Calm down sweetheart, think about what you’re saying.”
Ernest watched the girl struggle to keep the gun pointed at the floor when two soldiers burst out from an intersection, they spun about, startled and pointed their own guns at them.
“Fucking drop them!”
The other soldier’s eyes locked in on Ernest, he saw torment and fear in there, these men were soldiers no longer, and Ernest just saw another couple of survivors. He looked behind him one more time before he waded past the young couple; he nodded at the older man and held out his hand.
“I won’t say it’s a pleasure to see you but at least you’re alive and a couple more guns are more than welcome. I’m Ernest.”
The man shook Ernest’s hand; he looked at his own pistol then dropped it in the water, “Jack, Jack Marsham. I’m sorry Ernest but we’re both empty.”
Ernest gazed at the other man who immediately looked to the floor before turning his rifle around and gripping it like a club. “Do you have a name?”
“This is Klinski,” replied Marsham. “I hope your friends have some ammo left, there are two of those things behind us.”
Ernest nodded, “There’s three behind us too.”
Stephanie raised her pistol; she pointed it directly at Marsham. “These fuckers killed Mavis in cold blood, Ernest. Have you forgotten that already?”
Kevin pointed his own shotgun at the two men.
“I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about, lass,” said Klinski. “But if you want to shoot us then go ahead, I mean, if we don’t get a move on, we’re dead anyway.” He shook his head and turned around to face the way they’d just come. Ernest could now hear the deadies splashing towards them, they had begun to moan.
“Steph? Come on, don’t lose your cool.”
“Listen to him, lass,” said Marsham. “Pick your target wisely; I can’t imagine you have many round left in your new toy.”
Ernest could see the others approaching from their direction now, oh Jesus, there was dozens of them. “Shit! We can’t win this one! Kevin, take out those following the soldiers!"
Kevin looked at Stephanie, she lowered her gun and they splashed over to Klinski.
“Do you know a way out of this bloody maze?” asked Marsham.
Ernest nodded, “Yeah but what do we do about them?”
He didn’t hear the reply as Kevin and Stephanie fired at the same time, at the three wading over.
Stephanie released the clip, “I’ve two rounds left,” she gazed at the deadies wading towards them. “Why have we stopped?”
Ernest heard her but didn’t respond; he couldn’t. His attention was fixed upon the approaching crowd of shambling deadies, in particular, the one in front. It was his only son, Darren.
“Oh please, not you too,” he moaned. Ernest took one step forward. He couldn’t leave him like that, it was bad enough that he’d left Brenda, but Ernest would just die if he knew that he left Darren like this too. He hadn’t told the others about his wife, which was one fact that he intended to take to his grave.
“I love you son,” he whispered.
Ernest then took one look at the baseball bat, if he used this; the other things would tear him to pieces. Ernest looked back at Stephanie, intending to ask for the pistol. They both stood transfixed at the approaching horde, only they weren’t staring at them, it was Darren who held their gaze.