The Shuffling Dead Box-set

by Ian Woodhead

  Mark’s dire situation sunk in fast, this was happening everywhere. His legs collapsed from under him. He dropped to the floor and crawled back into his garden. There was no point in continuing, there would be no help for him. Mark curled up into a ball and waited for the inevitable. It shouldn’t take long for his darling wife to find him, he knew there would be some pain when Cheryl bit him but it would be over in seconds, at least then he’d be with her.

  He jerked when he heard running feet across the road. The sound got louder. Two men ran into Mark’s garden and pulled him onto his feet. The largest man who looked to Mark like a steroid addicted bodybuilder placed his huge hands on either side of his cheeks and stared into Mark’s terrified eyes. He felt as though the man’s intense stare was stripping his soul away layer by layer.

  “Well, ain’t you a sad waste of skin. Your mum should have saved us the bother and strangled you with your own umbilical cord.” The big man threw Mark into the arms of the other one.

  “Hold that for me, Dean.” He said.

  “Jesus, Talbot. There are three of them in there, are you sure about this?”

  The big man slowly nodded then headed to the open door. “Don’t worry, my theory will work. While I’m upstairs, take that snivelling lump into his living room and get him prepared, I’ll probably be starving when I finish this.”

  The two men laughed.

  “What’s going on?” asked Mark once the man mountain had left them.

  “Shut up,” replied Dean.

  He pulled Mark through the doorway and into the kitchen, he attempted to struggle but quickly gave up, it was like being dragged behind a slow moving car. Dean threw Mark onto the sofa. His head snapped back and smacked against the back of the chair, making his see stars.

  “There’s too much polish on this window, Mark.”

  Through blurred vision, he saw the man standing next to one of his bookcases, dragging his index finger down the glass.

  “Look at those unsightly streaks. You ought to just use warm water with a dash of vinegar.”

  “I’m going mad,” muttered Mark.

  He turned his head at the sound of someone clomping down the stairs. Mark’s eyes bulged in their sockets when the man mountain, painted in vivid scarlet, wet lumps came into view.

  “Why is he still breathing?” asked Talbot.

  Dean traced his finger along the surface of his bookcase; he pulled a sour face then sighed. “Did your theory work then?”

  The man mountain grinned. Mark felt his stomach turn over at the sight of tiny, stringy pieces of red flesh stuck between the man’s teeth.

  “Like a dream. There’s none of that distracting mental miasma this time, it looks like working alone is the way to go. I dispatched them in seconds.”

  Mark gasped, he’d just figured out what he meant by that sentence. The fucker had just slaughtered his family.

  Dean grabbed the remote and turned off the TV. “I reckon that we ought to have a go at converting this one.”

  The man mountain burst out laughing. “You can’t be serious. Have you seen the state of his kitchen? I doubt he’s washed up since yesterday.”

  Dean shrugged, “Face facts, Talbot. This plague is spreading faster than you even predicted. We have to work with the material we have on hand.”

  “Fair enough, it’s worth a try, I suppose.”

  Dean pulled him off the sofa and sat on Mark’s chest.

  “Oh, god, please don’t kill me,” pleaded Mark. He gazed into the blond man’s eyes, searching for any sign of compassion.”

  “He’s a whiney little bitch.”

  “Just hold his head still, Talbot.”

  Man Mountains upside down head appeared above Mark’s face. The man’s hands locked his head still, Mark felt like he’d just been placed in a vice.

  “You were willing to let your dead family convert you into one of those filthy things a few moments ago, why the sudden change of mind?”

  The man wedged Mark’s head between his knees then forced his mouth open. Mark watched in horror and revulsion as the other guy sliced through his own forearm with one of his fingernails and held the dripping arm directly over Mark’s mouth.

  Several drops of glutinous, black syrup fell onto his tongue and flowed down Mark’s throat. He gagged and attempted to cough the stuff out. The vile stuff tasted like rotting shellfish.

  Both men climbed off him but he couldn’t move. His muscle locked him rigid as a board. Volcano heat spread through his body, Mark screamed his throat raw. Abruptly as it started, the pain just vanished.

  Mark grinned, he couldn’t help it. The euphoric sensation sweeping his body made the pain seem like a very bad dream.

  Welcome, brother. The two voices said inside his head.

  Mark slowly sat up and looked at the two smiling men in adoration.

  He returned their smile. “Thank you for the gift.” He whispered.

  Mark then noticed a slight frown flow across Dean’s face.

  “What’s the matter?”

  Tears rolled down Dean’s cheek. “I’m so sorry, he said. “It isn’t working.”

  Mark didn’t understand what he meant. He felt fine, better then fine. Then, without warning, the intense pain returned, Mark folded over in excruciating stomach cramps. Before his eyes, Mark’s fingers began to rot and liquefy. The last words he heard before the rest of his body turned to wet mush was Dean sobbing out the words ‘photocopy of a photocopy’.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dominic followed Marlene up the dimly lit staircase. He just couldn’t come to terms with how scared he was. Even the faint tones coming from the mouth of that good looking singer failed to ease his anxiety. The thought of having to help Marlene explain the situation to Bernard just exacerbated his feelings.

  His mother had a medicine cabinet full of tablets, within those countless bottles,

  Dominic was sure that they’d be something to calm him down. He then remembered his friend throwing all those painkillers down his throat and choked back a sob.

  “Dominic, are you okay?” asked, Marlene, turning her head.

  He nodded, “Yes thanks. I just got a bit of dust caught in the back of my throat.”

  His on the spot lie seemed to satisfy the woman. Where in the blazes had Douglas gone? Marlene’s suggestion of him sleeping off his illness inside his beast seemed like a reasonable idea. He just wished they’d followed it through before rushing back into the club. Dominic took a deep breath and breathed in a little more of that dusty air, imagining that he stood atop a desolate mountain. Maybe not that desolate, he’d have to have someone to keep him company.

  He allowed the fantasy to play out in the back of his mind and concentrated on

  Marlene’s back. It had been a while since he’d been this close to her before. The woman had put on a bit more weight, no doubt gorging on his yummy pies. That bum had definitely expanded. Perhaps now would not be the best time to announce his breaking news.

  “Are you sure you’re alright?”

  “I’m fine, woman,” he snapped. “Quit the fretting. You’re beginning to sound like my mum.”

  “Don’t you worry about Bernard,” she said, obviously not believing him, “I can explain everything.” She paused, “And if you call me woman again. I’ll push you down the stairs.”

  So that was that, his role in this drama had just been finalised. She was the heroine while his diminutive part consisted of just being Marlene’s sidekick, her faithful manservant, just there for comic relief.

  She reached the top of the stairs and disappeared around the corner, bugger it, he would tell her that she had a big bum after all.

  Despite working at the club for all these years, he’d never had the need to come up here. In fact, this would be only the second time that Dominic had climbed these stairs. He felt like a burglar, breaking into someone’s house. The place hadn’t changed a bit, well apart from becoming a bit shabbier. It must have been almost twenty years since
that horrible ogre had taken Dominic upstairs to give him his super-scary pep talk.

  Even though the man turned his bowels to water, he couldn’t help but admire his taste in décor. Looking back, it was pretty blinking obvious that Bernard had inherited the place already decorated from the club’s previous owner.

  He followed Marlene into the first room. This was where Bernard had taken that eager young twenty year old trainee chef and told him just how lucky he was to work at his club. Apparently, there had been dozens of applicants just clamouring for this prestigious position. After he’d shook Dominic’s hand, he then explained in graphic detail, just what he would do to him if Dominic ever stole from his club.

  From behind his back, Bernard pulled out a wooden walking stick and twisted the handle. Dominic’s jaw dropped as Bernard grabbed the shaft and pulled, revealing a long, thin metal blade.

  Dominic padded over to a long, white leather sofa, pushed against the back wall. That wasn’t here all those years ago. He shuddered, remembering that week of nightmares he had of Bernard pushing that blade into his guts.

  He ran his hand along the cool, leather whilst thinking back to what little he knew about zombie people. The only movie he’d ever seen as a child involved a group of survivors holed up in some shopping centre. It was just horrible, that movie frightened the pants off him and put Dominic off those types of films forever. Give him a good tear jerker anytime.

  From what he could recall, zombie people are basically dead people shuffling about and drinking lots of blood. Or was that what vampires did?

  Dominic did a double take when he spotted a bright red telephone sat on Bernard’s writing desk. He rushed over and grabbed the receiver and felt his karma evaporate when he heard no dial tone.

  “Oh, that is super bad news.” He muttered.

  It can’t be a coincidence, both phones can’t be broken. He decided there and then that looking for Bernard can go whistle. Hiding in Dominic’s loft never looked so appealing.

  “Marlene, I’m sorry but I’ve changed my mind. Can you give me a lift home?”

  Dominic replaced the receiver and turned in a complete circle. “Marlene?” he hissed.

  “Where are you?”

  He hurried to the door and looked both ways but saw no sign of her. What was he going to do now, how would he explain his presence if Bernard caught him rooting round his private room? He took one look behind him; just to be sure she wasn’t hiding behind that desk. Dominic slowly walked to the door shaking. The woman had just run off and left him here.

  “Guess what I’ve found!”

  Dominic jumped a foot and swivelled round. Marlene grinned at him whilst leaning against a bookcase. She swung the bookcase back to reveal an entrance to another room.

  “Oh my goodness!” he exclaimed. “He really does have a secret room behind his office. This is so Scooby Doo.”

  She reached across the desk and took Dominic’s hand. “Come and see what I’ve found.”

  He followed her, mouth agape into his boss’s private seduction chamber. The room was beyond surreal. Marlene grabbed the edge of the bookcase and swung it back into position.

  Had Dominic just travelled back in time and landed in the middle of a Roman whorehouse? No blinking wonder his boss had been able to charm so many starry eyed barmaids over the years. These lavish decorations would blindside any impressionable teenage girl.

  It must have cost a fortune to design and install, he sniffed; now he knew why

  Dominic hadn’t received a pay rise in the last three years. He pushed through the deep, purple gauze material, hanging down from black poles fastened to the ceiling. Dominic gazed in longing at the huge four poster bed dominating the room. Dominic sat on it and squealed in delight. Why he was not surprised that Bernard had a waterbed?

  This scarlet, silk sheet under his bum probably cost more than what Dominic earned in a week. He wondered whether Thomas would be blindsided if he managed to get him in here. Stuff it; this was his fantasy, why stop at just him? Dominic would bring that super, good-looking singer up here as well, the thought of him being sandwiched between two gorgeous, naked men, made him drool.

  He felt a sharp prod on his shoulders and jerked his head up to see Marlene glaring down at him.

  “Earth to Dominic, do I even want to know where your mind had just been?”

  Dominic blushed redder than the sheets he sat on. She held up a low cut, purple blouse. “Does this look familiar to you?” Marlene then threw a black bra at his head. “That was next to the blouse. Both pieces were hung over that chair. I can only assume that they both belonged to the same girl.” He knew exactly who that blouse belonged to. “Oh no, it’s our missing barmaid’s. Wait a minute, are you suggesting that she’s still in the club?”

  She shrugged, and then pointed to a pair of crumpled trousers lying beside the chair.

  “Did you happen to notice a naked teenager running past you?”

  He shook his head, “I think I would have mentioned something like that.”

  “Well, Bernard isn’t here, let’s check out the other rooms.”

  She wandered back to the back of the bookcase and placed her ear against the wood.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Marlene ran back over to him and pulled Dominic around the bed and dropped down.

  “There’s somebody in that other room,” she whispered, “and I think it’s Bernard.”

  “Good, let’s get this over with.” He said, standing up.

  She pulled Dominic back down. “No, you don’t understand.”

  Then he heard the low moans through the thin wooden panels. “Oh my god!” he hissed. “He’s turned into one of those things.”

  “He helped Douglas carry that boy’s body over to the car.”

  “Are you suggesting that it infected Bernard?”

  She nodded, “I’m suggesting that it infected them both, we still haven’t found Douglas yet, have we?”

  Dominic figured that events would have been rather different if he and Marlene had decided to check out the beast first. Could he really be in there, just waiting for some poor sap to open the car door and ask him if he was okay? Oh good lord, he squeezed his legs together to stop his shakes. It could have been Dominic out there moaning away.

  “Marlene? I don’t want to be here anymore. What say you and me just go?”

  She shook her head, “We can’t leave.”

  “Why not? Come home with me, Marlene. I cook you anything you want. We can sit and watch a film and gorge ourselves on junk food and wait for all this to blow over.”

  She was silent for a moment, “Okay, Dominic, it’s a deal, but we take Thomas as well. We can’t leave him here.”

  “Sounds good to me,” he replied.

  The noise outside the room gradually subsided. “Do you think he’s gone?” Marlene shrugged, “Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

  She crept back over to the bookcase. Dominic stayed behind the bed; he’d follow her as soon as he’d tooled up. His initial search proved fruitless, this was so unfair. How could he possibly find anything suitable in a room full of soft furnishings? Why could their boss have done the reasonable thing and seduced his girls in an armoury? Dominic saw the closed wardrobe, he stood up and ran to it, he hoped to get lucky; maybe Bernard added a slight kink to his sexual exploits and dressed up as a soldier, complete with a big gun.

  “Not a nurse, please not a nurse.” He whispered. Dominic opened the door and sighed when he saw the row of seductive, frilly nighties that left little to the imagination. Oh, lord, this was so, super not funny. What was he supposed to do now, dispatch those horrible creatures with a plastic coat hanger?

  A very familiar object propped up in the corner then caught his eye. Dominic grinned like a Cheshire cat, reached in and pulled out Bernard’s walking stick. He twisted the handle and pulled the outer shell down.

  “Marlene? Look at the size of my big weapon.”

  “It suit’s you,
sweetheart. You look like Errol Flynn.” She swung the bookcase open and peered into the room. “It’s empty.”

  Marlene gazed at Dominic, “Do you feel confident enough to use that?”

  He wanted to dismiss her patronising question with a deep manly laugh; he’d dissected more flesh than she’d had hot dinners, dinners he might add that Dominic had made for her.

  Dominic handed her the blade and turned away so she wouldn’t see his tears.

  “Come on, Dominic,” whispered Marlene.

  He kept his eyes fixed to the floor and followed her out into the other room. Marlene stiffened; Dominic looked up and saw Bernard in the hall, staring out of the window. Marlene raised the sword and padded across the carpet.

  Before she had time to deliver the blow, he spun around and jumped to the side. “Jesus, fucking Christ, Marlene, what the fuck are you two clowns playing at?”

  Dominic wanted to weep with relief, he wasn’t one of those things after all, and that meant, maybe his friend would be fine too.

  “You won’t believe what we’ve just seen outside,” replied, Marlene, unfazed by his outburst.

  “You two as well? Thank fuck for that. I thought I was going fucking potty.”

  Dominic then noticed just how red his eyes were. Had his boss been crying? He found that blinking hard to believe. He approached the window and looked down onto the car park, thinking that their boss must have seen the dead boy come back to life as well.