by Ricky Fleet
“Wait here,” Peter whispered and went from body to body, pulling any loose arrows free and putting them in the basket. Some were buried deeply in bone and would need to be carefully pried out after the fighting was done.
Kurt put a finger to his lips and peered around the bend. More awaited, but in manageable numbers so the group moved as one and set up position again. The bows twanged, arrows sailed through the air and zombies fell dead to the floor as the steel tipped heads shattered through skulls at short range. The tapestries that hung from the walls depicted ancient battles, from Agincourt to Hastings, and he wondered if some day images of their bravery would be preserved for posterity. The armies of the living against the armies of the dead captured with intricate weaving. An hour had passed, the progress less than a foot a minute, but they reached the destination safely and with the students filled with hope for the first time in weeks. The fates of their loved ones were unknown, though not hard to imagine, so the chance to fight back was a remedy, albeit a violent one, to their feelings of helplessness.
“Can you cover the entrances?” Kurt asked the group and the students split into three four people sections, bows raised at the ready.
From the main gate guard room, the sides led left to the upper Keep and right out onto the upper walls. All would need to be cleared at some point, but for now the end was within reach.
“So how does this work?” DB asked, looking at the chains and pulleys.
“Those lumps of steel to the side are the counterweights,” Sam indicated three blocks of metal joined to the thick chains, “As soon as we work out how to free them, we can then lower the portcullis.”
Kurt pulled on them and nothing happened as expected. The public had access to this room and the last thing the owners needed was an accident with someone messing around with the massive iron frame. The chain links fed downward and they could see daylight from their position, hundreds of the dead milling around in the courtyard after being drawn in by gunfire that had now ceased.
“There!” Jonesy pointed and three heavy bolts had been drilled into the stonework, securing the chains in place.
Kurt tried to pry them out with the claw of his hammer but they were too thick. Shrugging he told the group, “Get ready, this is going to be noisy.”
Swinging the hammer, the chains rattled with each blow and the noise echoed down every cold hallway of the Keep. It took nearly twenty strikes before the stone crumbled and the bolt dropped onto the fevered zombies below.
“We are going to have company, I can hear them coming,” warned Stephanie, “Students, get ready.”
“Fuck the noise, we don’t have the element of surprise anymore,” DB called out over the jangle of beaten chains.
“Two down!” Kurt shouted as the next chain fell free.
Zombies had answered the clarion call and filed through the arched openings, only to be met by a barrage of ammunition spanning thousands of years. Arrows joined the high velocity bullets and by the time Kurt had broken the third bolt, the doorways were filled with so many corpses, any freshly arrived undead struggled to get through the meaty barricade.
“Sam, Braiden, on me,” Kurt said and the three pulled hand over hand, the counterweights rising as the protective barrier of cross hatched steel fell.
The sharp points of the iron crushed down through the gathered dead, pinning them to the ground in a welter of green fluid. The noise of the metal meeting the stony ground was a sound filled with such relief that Kurt would have swooned and fell to the floor if they weren’t still under attack. Finally, all the hurt, the danger, the horror, had culminated in the securing of the fortress for the living. Once the grounds had been washed clean of the taint of death, the family could relax and enjoy a brief respite as the winter set in.
“Fall back to the living quarters, we will finish the sweep tomorrow,” Jonesy yelled, “Students first, GO!”
The youngsters gladly made a break and dodged between the fallen carcasses on the floor. Denise and Patricia were proving invaluable, picking their targets and scoring one clean headshot for each bullet.
“Now you, ladies,” DB said, moving to cover them.
“Hell no, sweetie, we got your back,” Patricia grinned, loving the action.
“Y’all get back and man the machine guns, we got these fuckers for now,” Denise ordered with authority and the rest of the group complied, running back to the protection of the old soldier.
DB passed his rifle through to Gloria and manned the second gun. Jonesy knew what was coming and handed out three packs of ear plugs. The veteran just smiled and shook his head.
“Son, I’m deaf as a post already, a few more gunshots won’t make any difference.”
Squeezing them in tight, the sounds of their surroundings faded away into silence.
“Get back through the door, you don’t want to hear this,” DB said, the words muffled and odd sounding.
Everyone moved back reluctantly, then pushed the door until it was nearly closed. The two women came jogging around the bend sporting wide grins as if they were having a blast.
“We brought you some friends,” Denise remarked as she fell in behind the waiting troops and ducked through into the reception room.
In seconds a steady line of corpses who had pressed though their fallen comrades staggered around the corner only to be met by a hail of white hot lead. The machine guns chattered in small bursts and the undead would have fared better being fed into a meat grinder. Unable to understand the need to take cover, they came on undaunted and were chewed up by the fragmenting bullets. The work of two short minutes had piled the bodies high, with holes riddling the walls and ceiling. A torrent of flesh slowed to a trickle and the machine guns were laid gently down in favor of the assault rifles.
“Thank you, son,” remarked the old man with a quick salute, “Brought back some fond memories.”
Jonesy couldn’t hear a word of it and just smiled, before taking aim and letting off single rounds. The zombies that were able to pinpoint the raucous disturbance had all been destroyed, and the murky green ooze was slowly spreading down the hallway from the torn bodies, running into the cracks in the stone floor.
“That’s the last of them for now,” Jonesy said, joining the others.
“I’ll get the LMG’s,” Sam offered and Braiden followed, lifting the spent weapons.
“The barrels will be red hot, be careful,” cautioned DB and they rolled their eyes as if to say ‘we aren’t that dumb’.
“We can’t know how many are left waiting for us, but for now I need to lay down and sleep for a month,” Kurt said as Sarah locked the door.
“Shall we build the barricade again?” asked one of the adults who had stayed behind.
“Yes please,” Sarah replied, “We can move it when we make our final sweep.”
Cheers of jubilation erupted from the room as people introduced themselves to the brave strangers. The family watched as Kurt made directly for Mr. Vincent who was the only one with a scowl on his face.
“Keys to the bedrooms,” Kurt held out a blood soaked hand, “Now.”
The weasel eyes flicked from the hand to Kurt’s face through his broken glasses, weighing whether to press the issue.
“I said now,” Kurt growled, taking the hammer from his belt.
“I’ll go and fetch them,” said Mr. Vincent, conceding defeat. Not that there was much of a battle of wills anyway, Kurt would have simply locked him in the corridor for any new arrivals to devour.
“Aren’t you going to join in the celebration?” Sarah asked as she joined him.
“Not right now, love. I want to be alone for a while,” he replied with a weary smile.
Embracing him, she noticed the rapid onset of greying hair, a sign of the mental weight he had carried for the past weeks of their living hell. The hated curator returned and handed over the keys with a haughty disdain, almost throwing them at Kurt. Breaking contact with Sarah, she mussed his hair and returned to her sons a
nd their new friends.
“Your attitude had better change by the time I wake up, or you will be leaving my castle,” Kurt said as he walked past.
“Your castle,” he snorted with derision until Kurt turned and handed him an axe. Looking at the hatchet, Mr. Vincent didn’t immediately understand the implication of the gesture.
Taking out his hammer, Kurt got into a fighting stance, ready to take on the sneering nobody in a fight to the death. With a shriek of fear, the man threw the tool on the ground and held his hands high, submitting.
“Yeah, my castle,” Kurt walked away, ignoring the small puddle of urine spreading around the feet of the coward.
A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
I hope that you continue to enjoy the thrill ride that is the Hellspawn series. I have met some really wonderful people throughout this process and am grateful for the new friendships. The story continues and book four will be started in the near future. In the meantime I’m starting the beta reading process for my first book in a demon series (nope, still don’t have a title yet!) which will be released early 2017.
For upcoming news about future books, info about contests and prizes, or if you just want to stalk and harass me, please follow me on my Facebook page at
https://www.facebook.com/Author-Ricky-Fleet-751475768315453/?fref=ts
And on my publisher’s page at
https://www.facebook.com/OptimusMaximusPublishing/
www.optimusmaximuspublishing.com
AUTHOR BIO
Ricky Fleet has been a lifelong horror fan ever since he was (almost) old enough to watch the original Romero trilogy. Those shambling horrors gave birth to an insatiable appetite that has yet to be sated. After spending years in the plumbing trade, he then decided to start teaching, passing on his knowledge to the next generation of engineers.
Born and raised in the UK, cups of tea are a non-negotiable staple of the English life and serve as brain fuel for his first love, writing.
Today he shares his time between his real life students and the students of the zombie apocalypse in his first series: Hellspawn. At least the fictional students do as they’re told. Most of the time anyway.
Table of Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT