The Shuffling Dead Box-set

by Ian Woodhead

  He glanced back and the sight of his phone battery lying in the middle of the tracks, not believing he’d just done that. If the infection really was out then the authorities would have better things to do than search for him.

  Dean turned around and suddenly stopped, he grinned. Some things in Seeton did change after all. Dean hurried across the road and stopped in front of another phone box. He knew for a fact that this wasn’t here the last time he’d been in Seeton.

  He opened the door and hurried inside. Dean dug out a pile of change and placed it on the top while he tried to remember her number. He closed his eyes and attempted to calm down, Dean pictured her delicate features in his mind and immediately her telephone number came back to him. He punches in the numbers and groaned allowed as he was connected to an answering machine.

  “This is all I need, a bloody machine. Linda, if you’re there, please pick up the phone. Linda? Oh shit. Look, I need you to stay where you are. This is no joke, something very bad is happening. Stay inside and do not open the door to anyone. I know we parted in badly but you need to believe me on this. Please take care of yourself.”

  Dean replaced the receiver, Jesus; he must have sounded like a bloody mad-man. He picked up his bag and ran out of the railway station. He should be at the house in a few minutes. He hoped to god that the server was still running, with a bit of luck Dean would be able to connect to the main computer banks. If he could get on-line, Dean might be able to work out just what the fuck had gone wrong.

  Explanations and apologies with his dad would have to wait a bit longer.

  Chapter Seven

  Alison stood on her tiptoes and cursed when she found she was still unable to look into the cracked mirror. “This is a joke,” she said to herself.

  Then she remembered seeing a pile of bricks just outside the door of the gents, Alison smiled to herself. “One of those will do the job nicely.”

  She hurried out of the toilets, picked up the top block and carried her find back into the gents. She dropped it on the floor, climbed on the block and leaned towards the mirror. “Missed a bit,” she muttered when Alison saw the long narrow streak of grime along her cheek. She paused and gazed at her face again. This was the first time she’d seen herself in a mirror for months.

  “You ain’t that bad looking, girl. Apart from that mucky bit you missed.” She licked her fingers and vigorously rubbed the dirt off. On the whole, Alison didn’t think she’d done all that bad considering what limited washing facilities had been on offer.

  After leaving the railway station Alison had first made her way through the narrow stretch of trees that lay beyond the station and dipped down the banking towards the narrow beck at the bottom. She did feel a bit conspicuous, stripping off all her clothes then jumping into the cold water. After washing herself, the best she could, she then dumped all of her old clothing into the stream and watched the running water take her filthy rags down the stream. Shivering, she placed the long coat that she had lifted from a drooling woman on the train around her wet body and made her way back up the bank. The only items of clothing that she’d kept from her old life were a spare pair of trousers and her beloved pair of hiking boots, she’d only had these a couple of weeks, they were a bit grubby but serviceable. Despite having bugger all clothes left, as long as she didn’t unfasten the coat, Alison reckoned that she should pass for a wandering student or some young hiker. Back when she used to live here, those types were a common sight in and around the village, she ought to walk through her old haunts unnoticed.

  Alison gave her face one more check in that mirror, yeah nobody would recognise this mug, she didn’t look a bit like that fresh-faced terrified girl who left here all those years ago.

  Her intention was to go for a quick shopping trip in the village to buy herself some decent clothing before trying to grab a room for a couple of nights above the Rose and Crown.

  It seemed like a good enough plan. Once she had settled in, then Alison could then start with the task of hunting down her form teacher, the one who forced himself upon her, and the bastard who destroyed Alison’s innocence and caused her to flee from Seeton and from everyone who cared for her.

  Once that evil bastard was finally out of the way, then she would feel comfortable with getting back in contact with her family in the hope that they would forgive Alison and take her back.

  She glanced to the exit and gasped when she heard a pair of voices coming towards the toilet. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t her fault that the ladies toilets didn’t have a fucking mirror; even so, there was no way that she could be caught in here. Alison ran into one of the open booths, shut and locked the door. With a bit of luck they’d be finished and moved on in a minute or two.

  “So why do you think that our dear councillor has moved the dates for the charity gala ahead two weeks?”

  Alison felt a as though an ice-cold slug had just slivered down her backbone when she heard that voice. That voice belonged to the other one, the fucker who took Alison outside school and dragged her back into the sports block. The sound of his voice took her spiralling back to that night.

  The school bell was rung absolutely ages ago. God, Alison was so pissed off with that teacher. Just what bleeding right did he have to keep her back? She hadn’t done anything wrong.

  She hurried past the outside of the sports block, trying to keep a rein on her emotions, she knew that just one slip and that would be it, the tears would just stream out like a burst dam. She ought to report that Mr. Hudson, the man was just way too creepy, that thing he did with his eyes when he stared at the girls made her blood run cold, like he was undressing them or something.

  Alison stopped dead, no, it couldn’t be that. The man was ancient; he must be almost as old as Alison’s own dad. Men didn’t have mucky thoughts at that age, well, except for the creeps and perverts.

  Then again, those two words fitted Mr. Hudson perfectly. She nodded to herself, yes. Alison would send an anonymous letter to the headmaster in the morning, telling the head that Hudson had been feeling her arse or something.

  She grinned, Yeah that would sort him out. Feeling miles better, Alison headed towards the school gates. She ought to be excited now, not pissed off. Tonight was the night when she would finally get to drink inside a real pub.

  It had all been Trisha’s idea; she told Alison last week that her new boyfriend had just been given a car for his eighteenth birthday. It still excited Alison to think that her best mate was actually going out with a boy three years older than they were.

  Trisha had told Alison that they’d even done it in his bedroom.

  Trisha suggested that they all take a trip to Edenvale, the next village eight miles to the west. Her boyfriend told Trisha that their local pub was nowhere near as strict as the Rose and Crown; apparently he’d been drinking in there since he was fourteen. They had lock-ins and everything at the Black Goose.

  Alison couldn’t wait; the last time she had alcohol now was over three weeks ago, when she was up at Trisha’s house. They both shared a bottle of cider; Trisha was allowed alcohol, which as far as Alison was concerned, just wasn’t fair. Her parents were non-drinkers, they though alcohol was the devil’s piss or some rubbish like that. If they even suspected that Alison was going to a pub tonight, they’d ground her for three months. As far as they were concerned, she was staying over at Trisha’s on a shared revision date.

  Just before she reached the school gates, she noticed something small and white move along the top of a dry-stone wall to the left of her. Alison spun around and peered over, trying to make out what it was. It was difficult to make out; the fact that the sun had gone down and the street lamp above was broken didn’t help. It looked like a cat, but if it was it was a bloody small one.

  She shook her head, whatever. Alison had better thing to do with her time. She’d already decided what to wear tonight, stuck at the back of her wardrobe was a very revealing blouse that she’s found in her own mum’s wardrobe a few months b
ack. It came as a complete shock to find that mum had ever worn anything so risqué. Her mum came across as a total prude.

  A mournful high-pitched meow shattered the silence. Alison jumped; then looked back at the wall. Oh hell, it was just a kitten. She stepped off the path and ran across the wet grass, silently cursing as the water soaked through her plimsolls.

  Oh, this was so cruel. It was a kitten alright, some evil bastard had tied a length of washing line around its neck and fastened the other end around a large stone. Now who would do such an awful thing?

  Alison slowly approached the shivering animal and put her arm out. “Don’t be scared, sweetheart. I’ll sort you out.”

  She sensed a shadow right behind her and heard the sound of a low groan, just before someone thrust a canvas bag over her head. She tried to shout out but found her yells were abruptly cut off as a pair of large hands was pressed around her neck.

  “Don’t be scared,” whispered a rough male voice in her ear. “We’re gonna sort you out.”

  The man dragged her across the grass, she tried to struggle and get away but that soon stopped when he punched her in the side of her head.

  “Enough of that,” he growled. “Save your wiggling for the fun bit.”

  She heard the opening of a door, in her groggy state, she eventually worked out that he’d taken her back into the school. She smelt wood polish and something else, an aroma that was very familiar, the faint smell of somebody’s aftershave.

  “So, Alison, you dirty little bitch. You reckon that it’s cool to tease me do you? What, like I don’t have urges anymore? I think it’s time to show you what happens to filthy tarts who bit off more than they can chew.”

  Alison gasped out loud. Oh, my god! That voice belonged to her gym teacher. What the hell was going on? She blinked in the harsh light as the canvas bag was pulled off her head. She found herself alone with the teacher the other man had gone. She couldn’t move her arms; the man had an iron grip on both her wrists.

  “Don’t you worry, he’ll be back. He’s having his turn after me.” The man then grabbed her neck and suddenly pushed her back. She crashed into the wall behind her and fell onto the wooden floor.

  “What have I done wrong?” she cried.

  His face reddened, “Don’t you give me that innocent fucking face.” He snarled. “You know damn well what you’ve done, you prick teasing little bitch.” He knelt down in front of her, put his hand over her ears and pulled her head towards his. Alison smelt extra strong mints on his breath.

  “Yeah well, I decided that it was time that little girls like you should know what happens when their games goes wrong.” He licked his lips. “Don’t look so fucking frightened, this’ll mean nothing to a dirty slag like you anyway, Hell, you probably won’t even feel it, I bet you’re as loose as a well worn welly anyway.”

  Alison finally managed to scream when she realised just what he intended to do to her. He pushed one of his hands over her mouth while his other hand moved down the front of the uniform towards her crotch.

  On more than one occasion as she sat, shivering under a bridge or lay wrapped up in broken up cardboard boxes, Alison had dreamt of how her life would have turned out if she hadn’t been violated by that evil monster. That fucker had hurt her and made Alison hate her own body.

  Somehow, she’d managed to escape, but only thanks to some anonymous pupil forgetting to put away their rounder’s bat. As he lay on the floor, panting and grinning and calling her so many horrible names, she turned her face away from his and through her tear blurred vision, spotted the bat’s brightly coloured handle just a few feet from her hands. She turned over and, ignoring the intense cramping pain knotted up inside the pit of her stomach, she slowly crawled towards her salvation. The teacher had been too late to notice she wasn’t in the same place he’d thrown her. By the time he had realised that something was amiss. Alison had retrieved the bat and stood above him. She screamed in raw anger and brought the bat down as hard as she could.

  Alison later learnt that blow must have only knocked him sideways. Alison kept a close eye on the news once she’d taken the decision to go, she knew that leaving the village was now her only option, even if she had stayed and accused him, who would believe her a silly little girl? It would have been his word against hers and she had no doubt that the other one would have backed up whatever story he chose to tell. If she’d stayed, he’d have killed her. Alison believed that taking it in turns to rape her then dumping the body was their original intention anyway.

  She should have stayed and kept bringing that bat down on his head until it looked more like a dropped melon, but she knew that time was against her. Alison had no idea where the other one had gone or how long it would be before he came back.

  Alison listened to the two men on the other side of her cubicle, casually exchanging gossip about some bloke called Gavin. That name rang a bell, she was sure that her older sister used to hang around with a lad called Gavin. They were just about to leave. Alison silently climbed onto the toilet bowl; she just had to connect that unforgettable voice to a face. She peered over the top, just in time to watch them leave the gents. Alison didn’t think they’d be too hard to find though, considering both men wore police uniforms.

  Chapter Eight

  Linda stared aghast at the carnage below her. Oh, this was so not good. She glanced back at the television screen that was relaying similar pictures, only the scene on the box was happening twelve miles away, on the other side of London.

  “Where’s the damn ambulance?” She looked past the accident, towards the city centre, looking at the state of the snarled traffic; there was a good chance that it would be a while before they got here.

  She looked back at the television, judging by what the panicked looking news reporter had just told her, there was a fucking good chance that the ambulance would never turn up. The silly cow made it sound as though Armageddon had arrived in London.

  “They must be exaggerating, they must be.”

  She heard the thunderous noise just five minutes ago while she was in the kitchen. Linda had planned an evening in with Richard Steel, a very sexy colleague from work. He wanted to take her out, but she was adamant that he should come over to her place. He’d jokingly asked if she was trying to take advantage. Of course, she had vigorously denied any such thought had even entered her mind. The butterflies in her stomach all had epileptic fits when he said ‘that was a shame.’

  Linda tore her eyes away from the apartment window and gazed at the open bottle of wine stood on her kitchen table, she really ought to ring him and see if he’s alright. He lived in Camden and Linda was sure that they’d said that Camden was one of the areas that had been one of the worst affected.

  She left the window, poured herself a large glass of the wine and padded back into the living room in search of her phone. As Linda dug her phone out of her handbag, a piercing shriek echoed up from the street below. She rushed back to the window and saw that one of those people in that crash had managed to crawl out of the wreck. Then she looked again, the glass fell out of her hand.

  “Oh, my, god. This just can’t be happening.”

  The crawling man’s legs and hips were still inside that ford escort, crushed beyond all recognition when that double decker bus had ploughed into it. Only his torso, arms and head had remained intact and now that head was busy biting chunks of flesh out of the leg of a terrified spectator.

  Two men ran out from the gathered crowd and pulled the abomination of the screaming woman and, each holding an arm threw it towards the wrecked car. A single police officer, who’d been unsuccessfully, trying to keep the crowd quiet as well as trying to help the victims still alive inside the vehicles, rushed over to the fallen woman, crouched beside her and placed his hands over her leg wound. Linda slowly backed away from her window, trying in vain to make sense of what she had just witnessed. Linda felt something crunch under her heel, she gazed at the pool of red wind soaking into her pale blue car
pet and burst into tears.

  She then heard that silly bitch in the television studio advising everybody to stay inside and stay calm, reassuring everyone that the authorities had everything in order. Linda glared at the woman lie through her back teeth and so wanted to push her foot through the screen.

  “My carpet is fucking ruined.” She screamed at the TV. “And you tell me to stay calm?”

  Linda fell to her knees and started picking the pieces of glass off her carpet. Warm, soapy water should do the trick. She didn’t think the stain would come out though. Perhaps she could move the sofa over it?

  Another scream blasted out from outside. Linda stayed focused on her task, there wasn’t a chance in hell that she’d look out of that window again, at least not until the police and ambulances had sorted it all out. The sight of that unholy thing taking a bite out of that poor woman would stay with her until the end of her days.

  She stood up, padded to the kitchen bin and dumped in the glass fragments.

  “I’m going to need something a lot stronger than wine,” she muttered. Linda hurried towards her drinks cabinet, pausing by the TV. The female news-reader was now informing the audience that both the U.S. and E.U. have imposed quarantine restrictions on all outward bound journeys from the U.K.

  “And you can shut the fuck up you miserable bitch.” She muttered before turning off the TV.

  Right at the front of her cabinet was half a bottle of Jack Daniels, her dad had given her it three Christmas’s ago, to this day, she hadn’t a clue why, Linda hated the stuff and her dad knew that. The only reason she opened it in the first place was a few months ago when she was sleeping with some young scientist bloke. She yelped when another shriek echoed in from the streets.

  “Oh, Christ.” She said, moaning. “Please make it fucking stop.”