Hellspawn (Book 3): Hellspawn Sentinel

by Ricky Fleet

  “We are going to be overwhelmed!” shouted Jodi as she swung her bat with enough force to lift the zombie over the crenulations. It fell to the outer walkway and splashed green blood up the wall from the impact.

  Jonesy and DB had switched to full auto and were spraying the horde indiscriminately. The hundreds they had seen were closer to a thousand, and more were filing up the stone staircases. The walls were awash with the truly dead and dozens more were converging on the group. It was nearly hopeless.

  “Brother, I fucked up on the numbers, sorry,” DB reached across and patted Jonesy in commiseration. The writing was on the wall.

  “Don’t give up just yet, if we can hold we may just break them up here,” Jonesy snarled and leapt to his feet, “Take the right side!”

  It was like a scene from The Lord of the Rings; blades lashing out and rending heads and limbs, the metal clashing with the stonework at times. This is what it must have felt like to be under attack in ancient times, Sam thought to himself as he picked off as many as the slingshot would allow. DB and Jonesy pushed through and let off shot after shot, buying the melee fighters a chance to catch their breath. The clustered zombies below had started to break away and follow their compatriots towards the stone steps.

  “It’s hopeless, there are too many,” Peter complained, starting to panic.

  “Fuck!” screamed Kurt furiously, “We were so close!”

  “I’m so sorry, everyone, I didn’t think there were this many. John and Christina, get the ropes tied off around the merlons, we rappel down and retreat,” DB called out.

  The group were distraught at coming so close to safety only to have it snatched away by the sheer number of dead. They did as instructed and the ropes dropped to the ground below.

  “We won’t all make it down before they swarm us,” Sarah said, tears flowing freely.

  “And how will Honey get down?” cried Braiden.

  “We have to leave her, mate, there is no other way.” Kurt pulled him close.

  “You go; we will hold them back!” Jonesy shouted.

  “We aren’t leaving you behind!” Christina ran to DB.

  “This is on me, sweetheart,” DB smiled, “It’s my duty.”

  The bullets ran dry and the guns were useless. Looking at each other the soldiers let out a fierce war cry and surged forward with a machete in each hand, swinging wildly. The group wept for the brave soldier’s last stand and with heavy hearts reached for the ropes that would carry them to safety.

  “I’m staying,” shouted Christina, “If they die, I die.”

  “But we need you,” said Sarah, “You are more valuable than gold in this world.”

  “I’m sorry.” She shook her head and joined the madly flailing troops.

  “Shit, what do we do?” Kurt asked the rest of the survivors, torn between fleeing and staying until the bitter end.

  “I don’t want to be running anymore,” Gloria said honestly.

  “I won’t leave Honey,” declared Braiden.

  “Jesus Christ,” Kurt was more terrified than he had ever been, “Let’s do what we can. I love you all so much!”

  The group left the ropes and split themselves evenly, joining the soldiers who were enraged they weren’t retreating. Their faces left no doubt this was to be all or nothing, they would live or they would die in this battle.

  “What the hell?” Peter shouted as the sound of a racing engine caught their attention.

  From the lower end of the castle a Jeep was speeding along the road towards them, horn blaring. With a shriek of rubber and a juddering stop, the doors were flung open and six people jumped out, four women and two men. They carried what looked to be swords of varying sizes, from short swords to double handed claymores. If truth be told, most looked even more terrified than Kurt and his family who were fighting on the walls.

  “We thought you folks could use some help,” shouted a blonde lady in an American accent. She was in her mid-forties and had a look of determination on her face, but no fear.

  “You’re not wrong,” shouted Kurt, a mixture of laughter and crying with relief.

  “Get down and look to the sky, we have incoming!” she barked the order in a tone that brooked no argument.

  The wall defenders closed back together into a tight group and wondered what she was up to. From the watchtower they heard a voice cry out more commands.

  “Draw,” came the yell, “Loose!”

  In the distance a stream of arrows rose from the circular tower, before streaking down and embedding themselves into the tightly packed dead. They pierced flesh and bone, though not many brains. They were just too inaccurate, but the combined arrival of the Jeep and the hail of missiles was providing a much needed distraction. Dozens of the horde broke away towards the blonde lady and her companions as more arrows fell from the sky. A couple of the sharp projectiles landed very close to the survivors and they pressed together even further to minimize the target.

  “Ceasefire!” shouted the stranger after five volleys, and the six rushed forward to meet the zombies head on.

  “We have a chance, split up again,” said Jonesy and they parted to do battle once more.

  On the ground, the newcomers were obviously untried in facing the crumbling monsters. Seeing the advancing horrors, one man shrieked and fled back to the Jeep, stealing the vehicle and driving back towards the safety of the Keep.

  “Clive, you fucking asshole,” shouted the American woman in disgust as she cleaved another head open with her sword. The remaining man brandished the claymore with relish, swinging wildly and carving the dead. Such was the weight and the power, it slashed effortlessly through the monsters, leaving separate parts at his feet. Raising it above his head, the next zombie was cut neatly in two from the top of its head to the groin.

  “Maura, get back here,” called another blonde lady amidst the chaos. She was younger by a few years than the leader and tried to reach her companion who had moved off, hacking at the dead.

  “They killed my children!” she screamed back, driven insane by repressed grief.

  In moments she was surrounded by the horde. With sword in hand the zombies paid a heavy toll as they converged on her. Heads were split open in her frenzy and even as they bit into her flesh, the pain drove her to even greater feats of destruction. Shrieking in rage, she slashed at her killers and more fell to her blade before blood loss took over. With a final surge the zombies overwhelmed her and she collapsed, screaming as they fed.

  “Goddamn it!” shouted the leader.

  “We have to pull back, there are too many,” cried one of the other women as the claymore wielding man was devoured by eager teeth.

  “We will retreat back to the forecourt and take some with us, it’s all we can do,” the leader shouted apologetically.

  “Get clear, you have given us a chance. Thank you, whoever you are,” yelled Kurt.

  “Denise Kinsella.” She gave a thumbs up and her group turned and jogged away, covered in the green gore of a battle well fought. As they passed the imposing watchtower she shouted, “Cover our asses.”

  The hidden archers resumed their barrage and the arrows rained down, affording some protection to their escape.

  “Stay tight, use the bodies to slow them down,” Jodi said while crushing the head of a female zombie. The bone crumbled with a dull crunch and brain matter splattered over the grey stone.

  They followed her advice and DB used his strength to rearrange some of the bodies into a barricade to funnel the zombies. One got within biting distance of his arm and Honey came from nowhere, jumping and hitting the horror in the chest, sending it plummeting from the wall.

  “Thanks, girl, you saved my ass,” said DB while grabbing at another zombie and effortlessly throwing the skeletal body from the parapet.

  “We are going to win!” Kurt shouted with glee.

  Their saviors had pulled nearly half of the remaining number back towards the main structure and the relentless march of the d
ead on the walls was slowing down. Hundreds lay slain below and the walkways were thick with the slumped corpses of the hand to hand fighting. Hope was an infectious emotion and the family could see victory within their sights.

  “We aren’t out of the woods yet,” rebuked John, turning to his son, “Stay focused.”

  An arm reached from the pile and pulled at John’s leg, sending him sprawling. The force had hauled the still living upper half of the zombie free and it bit down, through the trousers and into his thigh. Bellowing in pain, he drove the machete through its eye and into the brain.

  “Oh my God,” cried Kurt, rushing forward.

  Blood flowed freely, covering the pants leg and the stonework. John pulled himself backwards and leaned against the cold embrasure, sighing at his stupid mistake. Kurt ripped off his sleeve and held it to the wound, trying to stem the flow as Christina came to help.

  “What can we do? We have to stop the bleeding. Christina, please help him!” Kurt was frantic, but John was calm.

  “Son, I’m so proud of you. Your mother will be too,” John said, holding a hand to his face, caressing the tear streaked skin.

  “Just hold on, we will get you patched up,” Kurt sobbed. Christina was tending the wound, but it wouldn’t make any difference.

  “You carry on protecting our family,” John continued, “That is your only concern, do you understand?”

  Everyone was crying, even as they carried on the fight with the final zombies. The tears of anguish heralded a fresh burst of energy at the unfairness of the world and the zombies were hacked apart. The punishment meted out was personal, each blow was delivered with a shout of denial and rage.

  “Tell Sam I am sorry for the way I spoke to him earlier,” John said softly, unable to see his grandson standing only a few feet away as the infection closed down his body in preparation for his rebirth.

  “Dad, don’t leave me!” Kurt cried out.

  “I’m going to see your Mum now, I’ve missed her these past years,” John whispered as the blood slowed to a trickle.

  “But I need you!”

  “I love you, Kurt,” sighed John.

  “I love you too, don’t go,” Kurt pleaded.

  John breathed his last, a final exhalation and his eyes rolled, head slumping to his shoulder. Sarah rushed over and held Kurt tight, gently pulling him away from the body of his father.

  “Can someone…?” Sarah gasped through the tears, unable to fully articulate the request to destroy the brain of the beloved man.

  “I will,” offered Gloria who was no less distraught. She crouched down by the body, taking the head and kissing John’s forehead, “Goodbye, my love,” she whispered, feeling the first stirrings of un-life in him. Using a small knife that DB had handed to her solemnly, she pushed it through his temple with as much tenderness and compassion as was possible. The spasms ceased at once and John was at peace, no longer at risk of stalking the world for the living.

  “Grandad!” Sam and Braiden wailed, breaking down.

  Heaving sobs shook Kurt as he grieved at the loss of his father, and Sarah pulled the boys in for mutual support through the heartache.

  “Kurt, I’m so sorry,” Christina said, head bowed in sorrow. The loss was more keenly felt because of the unknown fate of her own parents.

  DB, Jonesy, Jodi, and Peter had covered the two sides as the agony of the bereavement took hold.

  “Kurt, we need to move. I promise we will honor him later, but until then we have a castle to secure,” Jonesy said quietly, squeezing his shoulder in support.

  Pulling away from Sarah’s tear soaked shoulder, he wiped at his cheeks and a look of pure hatred replaced the sadness in his eyes. Sarah knew the look and held his face tight, locking eyes.

  “Don’t you go all crazy, do you hear me?” she said sternly. “I can’t lose you too.”

  Some of the fire in his eyes cooled down and he could only nod, his stricken heart still crushed by the death.

  “I don’t want to chance climbing the bodies on the wall,” DB started to explain, but then realized how callous it sounded with John laying only feet away, still warm.

  “We will have to use the ropes,” Jodi finished and pulled them both up from the outer wall, before tossing them down into the grounds.

  Braiden and Sam shimmied down them first, watching the bodies warily. Spaced apart, instead of piled high on the walls, it was much easier to keep an eye out for movement. The wounds were fresh and brains lay dripping on the ground. Sam gave a tearful thumbs- up when it was clear they were safe and Braiden hugged him tight.

  “He was a brave man, I was so proud when he called me his grandson,” Braiden said.

  “I’m going to kill every last one of these Godless mother fuckers!” Sam growled and Braiden nodded in agreement.

  “Together we will help retake this world,” declared Braiden.

  The rest took their turns and the soldiers waited until last, covering the descent. Honey was about to be tied onto the rope to be lowered, but dodged clear of DB and ran the gauntlet of the heaped bodies instead to go down the steps.

  “Bad girl!” Sarah shouted with fear as the yellow furred beast guiltily approached, tail between her legs.

  “You mustn’t go running off like that,” Sam said, stroking her head and cooing, using the canine as a form of catharsis.

  “Listen, we go first and you stay close. Shout out any target we miss,” explained DB when they reached the ground. They had reloaded two magazines for their side arms and stepped carefully over the littered bodies. Most were already dead from the expert marksmanship and any that still moved were dispatched with a double tap, just to be certain.

  “Hold your fire!” shouted Jonesy as they neared the watchtower.

  A face appeared above, leaning over the edge and made tiny by their distance, “Ok, just yell if you need us.”

  Jonesy thanked them and the group moved further down towards the courtyard. A circular garden had been totally trampled by the careless wandering dead, and the gravel road circled the once beautiful flower patch to allow visiting dignitaries easier access to the banquet halls. The colorful fletching protruded from the ground as they passed, with a few zombies interspersed with the arrows embedded in the brain.

  “They didn’t do too bad all things considered,” DB acknowledged the skill of the archers.

  More than fifty had survived the arrows to follow Denise back to the living quarters. As with all castles, the windows were set high enough to be out of reach and the door was practically impenetrable. The dull thuds of the zombies as they tried to break down the barricade echoed within the walls. The Jeep had been abandoned with the engine still idling by the coward, Clive.

  Kurt painfully recalled one of his father’s last ideas and asked, “Peter, would you mind taking the Jeep and backing it against the gate?”

  “No problem,” he answered and climbed aboard.

  “I’ll go with him, just in case,” offered Jodi and they set off.

  Peter drove slowly and didn’t give it too much gas, ensuring the festering crowd was unaware of the maneuver.

  “Do we take them down while they are occupied?” Gloria whispered and Kurt nodded, the hatred burning again.

  Spreading out, they butchered the remaining zombies before they could turn around, so intent were they on the people inside. As Peter and Jodi came jogging back, the inches thick door groaned open on old hinges and Denise rushed out to greet them all. More people hovered in the background, worried faces peering out on the savage looking strangers. The younger blonde pushed through, pouring scorn on the scared occupants.

  “No thanks to you we made it and helped to save these people,” she glowered at them as she passed.

  “We can’t thank you enough for putting yourselves in harm’s way.” Jonesy shook hands with Denise who waved away the praise.

  “We couldn’t just sit by and watch while you took them on,” she replied.

  “Some of us did though,”
sneered the younger woman who held out her hand, “I’m Louise Kelly.”

  “It really is a pleasure to meet you both. We are sorry for your loss,” Gloria said, knowing how much it hurt.

  “They were great people,” Louise said thoughtfully, “Maura Butler was the lady and Greg Austin was the guy with the massive sword; we became good friends. Clive is going to pay for what he did.”

  “None of us have gone against them before though, he just panicked,” Denise tried to explain.

  “Then he should have stayed behind!” Louise argued. It was clear it wouldn’t be the last they heard of this.

  “Who was watching out for us from above?” asked Jonesy, looking up at the watchtower.

  “That was some of the members of the school who were visiting when this all happened,” Denise said and ushered them inside.

  “Wait,” Kurt stopped them, “Before we relax, have you dropped the portcullis?”

  “No, we have sealed off the main Keep and areas that are open to the public,” Louise answered.

  “We have been hiding in the private wing of the castle. They flooded in over the drawbridge and nothing was going to hold them back,” Denise added, shuddering at the memory of trying to save as many as she could from the hungry dead.

  “What are you thinking, Kurt?” DB wondered.

  “I think now is as good a time as any to bring our supplies in. I would be happier taking the Keep with you guys fully armed,” he said, “We can set up fallback positions too with the light machine guns.”

  Jonesy looked at DB and nodded, “I agree, we can use the Jeep and load it up. It will take a fraction of the time that it would on foot.”

  “Wait just one minute!” whined a nasal voice from inside and a man in a crumpled suit pushed through. “What makes you think you are going to be staying? This is private land and belongs to the Duke and Duchess of Norfolk. There are quite enough commoners traipsing around where they shouldn’t be, you will be leaving right now!”

  The scared looking people lowered their heads in guilt at the implication they were a burden, but Kurt had had quite enough of being told what he could and couldn’t do. Grabbing him by the throat, he drove him back against the stonework with enough power to knock his spectacles loose.