Hellspawn (Book 3): Hellspawn Sentinel

by Ricky Fleet

  “Can you see any zombies?” Debbie whispered over his shoulder.

  Mike was so rapt on the scene that he didn’t hear her. The silence of the day was replaced in his mind by the catastrophic shrieks and explosions of concrete meeting high velocity, steel trains and the screams of the dying and the groans of the recently deceased as they rose from the accident to finish the job.

  “Mike?” Debbie asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

  “Huh?” Mike said, “Sorry. I was just imagining what happened here. Jesus Christ.”

  “It’s like something out of a movie,” she agreed, “I just wondered if you could see any of… them.”

  Mike looked around. The area was mostly clear but movement in the still day caught his eye on the tracks and roads.

  “We need to get around and the only way is through that,” Mike pointed at the burned rubble of the entrance building.

  “Why not just go over the crossing?” Debbie asked, until she saw that the wreckage was still crowded with zombies who hadn’t been able to reach the fiery column of the burning flats at the hospital.

  “Too many of them. And the fences are topped with razor wire to stop trespassing. We would be cut to ribbons if we tried to climb them,” he answered.

  If the bladed wire wasn’t enough of a deterrent, the tracks had a gathering of the crash victims too, milling around and trapped on the line forever. Some had been thrown clear upon impact and they were shredded and broken. Others were people who had gone to try and help; policemen, ambulance paramedics, and members of the public. They were mostly eaten and little more than wandering skeletons, with exposed ligaments and tendons stretching and pulling their torn frames around. Their abandoned emergency response vehicles sat silent, the flashing lights and sirens long ago draining the battery as horror unfolded all around.

  “We move car to car, staying low,” Mike explained and Debbie nodded.

  She didn’t want to go through the abandoned station as it looked dangerous and unstable, but Mike pulled her onwards. As they scrambled over the road between the cars, she found herself wondering what Peter was doing right now and how hard he had taken the loss of Paige. The bitter jealously at her, now dead, love rival was partly due to the speed at which Peter had given up on their years together for the slut. But more than that, it was the sure knowledge that he had never felt as strongly for her as he did for Paige. The two had known each other for a few short days, and in that time their new love had eclipsed his old feelings for Debbie as if they had never existed. Did she still love him, she thought, was that what it was? Impossible, Peter was a puling specimen and she had bagged Mike Arater; a strong and powerful alpha male. Still, she couldn’t fathom the bitter longing she harbored for him. How did the old saying go? Absence makes the heart grow fonder?

  “Bullshit,” she whispered from behind a stationary Lexus.

  “What did you say to me?” demanded Mike, staring at her.

  “I wasn’t saying it to you,” she said, thinking quickly, “I was just thinking about those fuckers.”

  “With any luck, they have been killed by the horde that was following them,” he growled and Debbie felt a pang of fear at the thought of Peter being dead.

  She ground her teeth so hard that the muscles started to ache in her jaw, anything to expel the silly feeling of regret that was growing inside her heart. Mike saw an opening and took her by the hand, crouching low and running for the shattered wall on the nearest side of the building. They reached the pile of debris and paused, looking into the partly concealed station hall. The roof had collapsed inwards and added wood to the inferno that had raged here weeks ago. The asbestos roof sheets were fire scorched, yet undamaged. They lay on piles of ash that had been their timber supports until the train smashed through the main ticket office and several walls, destroying the structural integrity of the building. All was still in the large space, and Debbie took a single step onto the mound of smashed bricks, before leaping back with a shriek as something brushed her ankle.

  “You fucking idiot!” Mike hissed as he pushed her away. From the pile, several hands that were camouflaged by dust began moving. They were attempting to reach for the survivors which they could hear, but it was impossible from their entombment in the collapsed walls. Debbie stamped wildly at the hand that had scared her and it cracked, the wrist bones breaking through the dried flesh.

  “They are under there!” Debbie cried out, thinking Mike hadn’t understood why she jumped backwards. Knowing that just inches below the surface, people had died and reanimated appalled her.

  “I know, and now your noise will have brought more of them. Move your ass!” snarled Mike in anger. From the corner, a solitary zombie was approaching, then another and another.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Debbie whined like a child.

  Mike pushed past her, holding his arms out for balance on the unstable pile of station wall which shifted dangerously underneath him. The seismic sensation was most likely due to the softer, fleshier parts of the mound that were moving and the hands grasped with increased desperation. Debbie was sobbing and followed, stepping carefully to avoid the skeletal fingers.

  “Which way?” she asked as they stepped down into the station hall with no roof.

  Mike looked around and the only way that was clear was the tunnel that had fallen, spanning both sides of the station. It had crashed down and settled several feet above the dead on the lower portion of the tracks due to the awkward angle.

  “Through the sky bridge!” Mike pointed.

  They hurried over, breaking the sheets of corrugated roofing and causing choking clouds of dust. Any asbestos fibers they inhaled would possibly cause health issues in their later life, but the immediate risk of being eaten alive was more pressing. Among the ashes were skeletons which also crunched sickly underfoot as they passed. They reached the tunnel which rose upwards at an angle towards the other platform. It had hit the roof, but the weight had not been sufficient at the time to crash through to ground level on the other side. Looking left, the concrete staircase that had climbed to the walkway was still intact, though now it led to the open sky and a sheer drop of forty feet.

  “Watch your step and careful what you hold onto,” Mike explained, no longer furious. They had a difficult enough job ahead of them, without the added risk heightened emotions would bring. Every window pane had shattered along the entire length and only pointed shards remained, lining the open frames that they would need to hold onto if they wished to navigate the steeply climbing tunnel. The rubble underfoot crunched and shifted with their weight. If they slipped, it would slide them straight down into the waiting pile of glass at the bottom, cutting them to shreds.

  “Use the hatchet to break it out,” Debbie advised and Mike chipped away at the glinting slivers. Thankfully, the putty holding the fragments was old and it crumbled easily, leaving a safer metal edge to hold onto in place of the jagged remnants.

  They slowly shuffled up the ramp, kicking glass out of the way to leave clean patches to stand on during their ascent. Moving sideways like crabs, they made slow progress and the zombies had reached the foot of the slope when they were only twenty feet through the hundred-foot tunnel.

  “Shit!” Mike complained, starting to feel claustrophobic. It wasn’t because of confinement, just being caught in such a predicament with no other way of escape. Now if they fell, they would provide a nice meal. Sliced like ham for the waiting teeth of the dead.

  “It’s fine. We just take it slowly,” Debbie soothed, trying to stop him from going into a meltdown.

  Mike took several deep breaths, just like Sarah had shown him. His heartrate stopped racing and he stared out of the wide window, looking up at the sky. The colossal expanse of open air calmed him and he didn’t feel as confined. The dead were having no luck, falling after a couple of steps and rolling to the bottom. They stood and were embedded with great daggers of clear glass, a fate that would await the living survivors should they lose
their footing.

  “Why did I have to look? Fucking hell!” Mike cursed himself, closing his eyes. There was a reason people said don’t look down.

  “Mike?” Debbie asked with fear at his apparent freeze.

  With one final shaky breath, he started to sidestep again, moving towards their next obstacle. The train had ripped the floor away and the open hole looked down upon the zombies that had gathered underneath from the tracks.

  “There’s no way across, we are trapped!” Debbie started to sob.

  “There’s a way. You won’t like it though,” Mike said and looked upwards. The roof was intact and if they reached out they could clasp the steel girders that held the roof in place.

  “You have got to be fucking joking! You want us to swing across like monkeys?” she laughed, but it was a mixture of fear and disbelief.

  “Didn’t you ever go on the raised bars at the park when you were younger?” Mike asked. He was scared too, though their options were limited to either proceed, or get eaten by going back.

  “Of course, but it didn’t involve hanging over a crowd of ravening fucking monsters!” she shouted at Mike.

  Ignoring the temptation to shout back and hit her, he pulled her close and cuddled her instead. The contact was enough to calm her for the moment and buy them time to plan the crossing. Mike felt confident that he would have the strength to swing across, even with the added weight of his backpack. He was in extremely good shape, but the same couldn’t be said of Debbie. Although slim, the act of holding her own weight may be too much for her thin arms.

  “Did we pick up that nylon paracord?” asked Mike, thinking back to the camping shop.

  “I don’t know, hold onto me,” replied Debbie and he held her tight while she removed her backpack. Delving deeply, she pulled out a spool of tightly bound cord and handed it over.

  “We will use this. Once I am over I will tie it off. For now, we can tie it around that and I will tie it around my waist,” Mike indicated a bent steel strut that would be a perfect anchor point. He knelt down and wrapped it around, tying it in a knot before pulling as hard as he could. It didn’t snap so he spooled a ten-foot length at his feet and tied it around himself.

  “You want me to be a tightrope walker?” she asked, disbelievingly.

  “No. I tie it over there and then use it to support your weight. You will still need to hang from the cross beams, but it will take a lot of the strain from your arms,” Mike explained.

  “I think I understand,” she said. Her vision kept lowering to the reaching carnivores and the grim death that would arise if she fell.

  “Wait here,” Mike said and winked.

  Taking hold of the steel beam, he lifted his legs to put the full weight on his arms. Satisfied that it was manageable, he swung out over the gulf and grabbed the second rung.

  “Please be careful,” Debbie begged.

  Mike was too intent on the job to remind her that he was unlikely to do anything but be careful in the circumstances. Reaching the halfway point, he clutched at the next beam and an unseen edge cut into his palm, causing him to lose his grip. Debbie shrieked as Mike swung precariously from one arm, twisting around until his shoulder threatened to pull from his socket. Ignoring the pain, Mike reached up and took hold of the center support, easing the burden on his protesting joint. The blood ran slowly down from his hand and tickled his underarm as it moved lower. The undead were frenzied at the meal hanging above their heads and groaned even louder.

  “Mike, are you ok?” Debbie wailed.

  “Do I look ok, you fucking idiot?” Mike growled, “There is something sharp up there.”

  Instead of trying the same place again, he shuffled down a short distance and swung again. The bloodied hand was weakening and slippery, but whatever sharp edge had cut him was further down the roof beam and didn’t reach this far. With three more swings he was relieved to touch down on the other side of the gulf. The fear had been a constant drain on his strength and he was certain that Debbie would have stood no chance if they hadn’t been fortunate enough to pack the cord. Opening the injured hand, the cut was deep but hadn’t damaged any nerves or tendons. Clenching it into a fist, the pain was receding now that he wasn’t hanging by it.

  “Hurry up, I want to get out of here,” complained Debbie, her concern for Mike replaced with fear of the short walk she would need to take, held aloft by little more than string. Mike’s eyes narrowed slightly and she was blissfully unaware that he was weighing the choice of whether to leave her behind, much the same as the other group had decided to do. Sex with her was good; there was nothing she would refuse him, no matter how debauched or painful. The question boiled down to whether he would be more likely to survive by keeping her alive. In case of the worst happening, she would serve as a useful distraction for the dead to feast upon if they got into a bind. All of this scheming went through his mind in the blink of an eye and, decision made, he carefully tied the other end of the cord to a section of steel in the ravaged floor.

  “Thanks,” Debbie tried to smile through the terror. It appeared as a grimace and contorted her features into an ugly rictus.

  “Just be careful of that middle strut, see where my blood is?” he pointed at the sharp edge that he could now see from the other side. Water had been leaking through the roof and the steel had started to corrode, leaving the edge rusty. When had he last had a tetanus booster? Just his fucking luck that he would get another infection so close after his last brush with death. She reached upwards and held tight to the beam, leaning out with her foot and testing the thin rope.

  “It will take your weight, trust me. That’s it, slowly,” Mike coaxed Debbie and she moved out onto the rope fully, only putting as much weight on it as she couldn’t hold with her arms.

  “Oh God. I don’t think I can do it,” she cried out, after looking down. She took a pace backwards, trying to reach the solid, yet broken surface of the tilted floor.

  “Stop! I believe in you, just look at me, keep your eyes on mine,” Mike urged, locking his eyes onto hers, “Now, step by step, move.”

  She ignored the moans and the horribly springy feel of the cord underfoot. Mike’s confidence filled her with a self-belief that had been in danger of disappearing. Her feet seemed to work on their own under the powerfully hypnotic gaze and it came as a shock when she finally felt something solid under her feet.

  “There you go; I knew you could do it!” Mike was beaming and the joy was infectious; the hardest part of the tunnel was behind them.

  “Thanks for believing in me,” Debbie gasped and held him tight.

  “No problem,” replied Mike, looking over her shoulder. The good news was that if they slipped, they would no longer plough into a mass of broken glass. They would simply fall through the hole in the floor and into the eager arms of the zombies below.

  Mike decided to tie them off at each window after finding the cord, just in case. Each window had an upright strut set at eight feet spacing’s. If they fell and started the slide to hell, the binding would pull taut and, hopefully, prevent their deaths. No different to climbers who secured safety anchors, they climbed the remaining forty feet without incident and cut the remaining cord to take with them. Mike gave the finger to the small group of zombies at the bottom of the tunnel and looked around at the roof of the south side of the train station. The gently pitched roof was also covered with large sheets of corrugated asbestos, a cheap but reliable material until people started dying from its use.

  “You see the heads of the screws?” Mike pointed at the drab, grey covering.

  “Yeah, the rusty bits?” she replied.

  “You have to make sure you only step on those or you could fall through, they show where the wooden joists are located,” he cautioned and lowered himself carefully onto the roof from the torn opening of the fallen tunnel.

  Turning, he helped Debbie to get her footing on the delicate surface and was about to direct their route to the access hatch that led down into
the main station building below. The sounds of groaning were a constant companion and they didn’t notice the increase in the volume until the first crash vibrated through the roof into their legs. Looking up, they could see the open mouth of the southern staircase that once led to the skywalk opening they had just climbed down from. Now, contrasted by the darkness as they came walking into the light, were dozens of cadavers that had climbed to the top of the steps in search of the sustenance they had seen. The dam of rotting flesh burst and flowed over the rim, falling in a heap onto the roof close to Mike and Debbie. The first few had landed on the wooden supports and cracked the asbestos. The others weren’t as fortunate and hit the already weakened roofing sheets, crashing through and falling to their doom on the hard floor below.

  “Move!” Mike screamed and walked along the screw line, sticking to the strongest part of the roof. Debbie followed and then the dead, who had started to give chase with no fear of the potential dangers. Mike wanted to break into a run, but it would be too risky. The zombies were gaining and they had no chance of making it to the door in time, let alone break through and escape. Mike ushered Debbie past and took out his hatchet. Swinging wildly, he hammered onto the roof, breaking sections away that went spiraling down to join the fallen dead.