by Ricky Fleet
HELLSPAWN: DOMINION – Book Five in the Hellspawn Series
©2017 Ricky Fleet
First Edition
Edited by Christina Hargis Smith
Cover art by Jeffrey Kosh Graphics
Published by Optimus Maximus Publishing, LLC
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living, dead, or otherwise, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.
Electronic edition, License notes:
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the work of the author.
ISBN-10: 1-944732-34-9
ISBN-13: 978-1-944732-34-9
DEDICATED TO
The fifth book in the Hellspawn series is dedicated to all my amazing Hellspawnians out there. To my friends and readers and the Fleetie’s Sweeties. My incredible beta reading team who do a sterling job of picking up mistakes. I couldn’t do this without you.
And finally, to Lisa Ashdown. A great friend who pushes my work wherever she can and took time out of her busy schedule to set up my fan page. Her caring heart is an inspiration to us all and I’m proud to have her on my team.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
DEDICATION
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
CHAPTER 1
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Matt said, smiling from across the room as Clarissa opened her eyes.
Still partly asleep, she panicked and frantically tried to scoot her way up the bed, drawing the duvet around herself protectively. Rubbing at her face, the fog of unconsciousness receded and she relaxed a little. Her eyes still bore the legacy of her ill treatment, red rimmed and haunted. Matt approached cautiously and, after asking for permission with an expressive nod, laid a tray across her lap. Two slices of toast were softened by the melted butter and a bowl held dry cereal.
“We only have long life carton milk,” Matt apologised with a shrug and held out a small jug for her to sample.
With a scrunching of her nose she declined and picked up one of the pieces of bread. Gnawing at a corner like a rabbit, her face lit up at the forgotten taste and she couldn’t resist taking a proper bite. Matt was overjoyed to see a small grin of satisfaction appear.
“Good?”
“Mmmhmm,” she nodded.
Sipping from a cup of black tea, he sat down and watched her eat. Feeling the familiar swell of pain blossom inside his heart, he looked away before she could misconstrue the agonised pout.
He had not been fast enough. Putting the unfinished breakfast down, she regarded him with concern, “Are you ok?”
Taking a shaky breath, he turned and smiled, “I’m fine, sweetheart. Finish up your breakfast.”
“Mr Hay, why are you doing this?” she asked quietly, yearning for, and dreading, the answer in equal measure.
He thought how best to reply. How much should he reveal to this young girl when he had never explained his life before the apocalypse? Not even Craig knew anything other than he was hard, brutal, and unflinchingly loyal. Taking a deep swig of the tea to buy him a few seconds, the liquid burned painfully as it flowed down his throat. Her eyes were wide and fearful at the extended pause, and this hurt more than the scalding brew.
“I have children of my own back in Scotland,” he began, quietly.
“I’m sorry. I hope they’re ok.”
A wan smile spread across his lips as he replied, “I hope so too. My home was very close to an obsolete cold war bunker in Crail. My wife would’ve collected the boys and then headed there, I’m certain.”
It was the truth, but it didn’t take into account human behaviour of any other survivors. Scots were a hardy people who still valued cooperation and neighbourliness. He prayed this was still the case even after the dead dragged themselves from the grave.
“What’s a cold war? Is Crail a place?” she asked innocently.
“It’s a small village on the east coast, about two miles from our house. A cold war is one that doesn’t have great battles, thank goodness. Powerful countries that could wipe out the world with the press of a single button do a lot of their fighting via espionage and other means, otherwise no one wins.”
“Do you think that’s what happened with the bad things at the walls? Someone pressed a button?”
Matt frowned. It was a very good question and he did not have an adequate answer.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” he pondered. “If it was a biological disease then maybe, except the things outside are definitely not suffering from a virus. This outbreak is something else.”
“Like radiation or space aliens?”
Matt laughed at the idea of hovering spaceships raising the long dead. “It’s as good a theory as any I’ve heard. You’re probably right.”
Beaming at the praise, she took another bite of the toast. Between chewing she broached the question again. “I still don’t understand why you’re helping me. There are other kids in here that deserve it as well.”
“Sadly, I can’t rescue all of you. I’ve made sure that the younger ones are off limits and it will stay that way. I’m going to do what I can to stop the others being hurt, but it will take time. We all owe a debt to your father and his ingenuity in building the tunnels. Allowing us to get at the food in local shops and homes is the only reason we’re still able to survive.”
Her gratitude was written on her soft features at the mention of her beloved parent, then faded and was replaced by wrenching fear again. Dawn had broken and she would be leaving for work duties shortly.
“Mr Keeping will be coming to visit me in the wash house today. When he gets me alone he will be telling me everything he did to mummy last night. Then he does awful things…” She broke down into uncontrollable sobs and Matt rushed over. Holding her tight, he was shocked at her frail form. It was all skin and bone and he felt a pang of anxiety about how his own children would be faring without a constant food supply. That was if they weren’t wandering the hills and glens, groaning as their bodies slowly decayed in the unforgiving highland weather.
Shaking the awful image from his mind, he gingerly touched his bandaged arm and took her tiny hand. His huge, calloused paw dwarfed the frail girl’s own.
“Mr Keeping is gone. He won’t ever hurt you or your mother again.”
She searched his e
yes for any falsehood, before asking naively, “Where did he go?”
“I killed him,” Matt confessed. Prepared for her to cower away, he was astonished when she held him tightly in an embrace.
“Is that where all your cuts came from?”
“He was a strong and dangerous man, but the prison is safer with him gone.”
“I’m sorry that you got hurt standing up for me,” she whispered, squeezing his hand.
“This?” Matt pointed at the bandages, “It’s nothing. I’ve hurt myself worse while shaving.”
She giggled and pushed at him playfully, “Why is someone so lovely in a place like this?”
There was no judgement in the question, it was simply the inquisitive nature of youth. He decided to tell the whole, unvarnished truth.
“When I was younger, I mixed with some very bad people. I met my wife as an angry twenty-year-old and she took me away from the life of crime I was involved in. My wife had our first son, but during the second pregnancy it was discovered she had cancer.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said, stroking her hair. “We tried to get treatment for her but it was a rare form of the disease and the UK was lagging way behind the treatments available in the USA. There was no way a trainee mechanic could afford the fees, until a job offer was put my way. It was an armoured car robbery with an inside man. I was desperate for any solution and did a deal with the devil.”
“What do you mean? A man was inside the armoured car?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes. The man whose job it was to count and organise the money worked for my previous employer; he was an old acquaintance who stole cars with me back in the day before he got a steady job. It was a guaranteed quarter million pounds for me, with the rest going to the silent partners who organised it.”
“And you got caught?” Clarissa asked.
“Yes and no,” Matt replied, “I spent a lot of time watching the depot, making sure I was seen a couple of times before it went down. One of the conditions was that I would hand myself in and take the blame so the police didn’t look too closely into the background of the job. It had to look like a single gunman who took his chance.”
“So, what happened with your wife?” Clarissa interrupted, eager for good news.
“We got her the treatment under an assumed name and she made a full recovery. I could only stay with her for a few days before I had to fly home and take the rap which broke my heart. Her family stayed with her while I went to trial and got the maximum sentence because I wouldn’t tell them where the money was. I made a deal with my old contacts that ensured Hazel, my wife, received a small income every year from the remaining two million pounds which had been in the truck.”
Grinning from ear to ear, she couldn’t hide her joy that his wife had been healed. “You’re like Robin Hood… kind of.”
“Not really. I robbed from the rich to give to myself and other bad men.”
“But you did good things with it! That’s what matters.”
“The police and courts didn’t see it that way,” Matt chuckled.
“Then they’re idiots,” she declared. “I’d have let you off with a warning. Helping your family should be an ex… exit…”
“Extenuating?”
She clapped her hands, “Yeah, that’s it! Extenuating circumstance! I heard it on a police show I watched before the monsters came; a judge let a lady go free after she stabbed her boyfriend. He had been hurting her for a long time…” Her voice trailed off as she recognised the similarity to her own existence.
Matt lifted her face and met her gaze. “Let’s hope one day, when all of this is over, that you get the chance to be a great judge. Just like the one on the TV,” he replied with a smile, easing her out of his arms. “Finish your breakfast before it gets too cold.”
Resuming her feast, Matt brought his chair over. Sitting down, he looked at her gravely, “I need you to listen carefully, Clarissa. No one can know what we’ve talked about in here, or the fact that you haven’t been mistreated. You must always look like you’re afraid of me.”
“I can do that.” She nodded firmly, grasping the full gravity of the situation.
“Only you and I, and your parents can know what’s going on. Until I can think of a better solution, this is how it has to be.”
“I understand,” Clarissa replied, tears welling in her eyes and bottom lip quivering.
“It’s ok, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be ok.” Matt tried to soothe her until she broke out into a massive grin.
“How was that? It was my I’m upset face,” she giggled at his confusion.
“I don’t know about a judge, but you’d make a really good actress,” Matt replied, shaking his head in wonder.
CHAPTER 2
“You know the layout of the farm far better than I do,” Carpenter called out to Max and Angela from the Warthog, “Where do you want me?”
“The house is sealed up tight,” Angela replied, pointing at the building which came into view. “This way!”
She ran off up the path, beckoning the drivers to follow. Every window on the ground floor had been removed and bricked up, with only a small hole left in the centre. The broken glass and frames were stacked against an outbuilding, scraps of flesh still hanging on the fragments.
“You had some trouble here?” Eldridge shouted, nodding at the debris.
“The first few days were a bit rough,” Max admitted, “We can talk about it over a vodka when we’re safe.”
One entrance remained unblocked except for a thick wrought iron gate which had been fixed to the outer wall. Taking out a set of keys, Angela removed the heavy-duty padlock as Max directed the vehicles.
“If you park against the brickwork either side of the front door we can build a barricade around you.”
Eldridge relayed the message across the radio and the APCs manoeuvred as close to the building as possible. With the sides of the vehicles parallel to the walls, it provided a much smaller target for the undead to surround them. Cutting the engines, the soldiers disembarked and gathered around their sergeant. Rushing from the dark home, Max tossed a set of keys underarm to her sister. Three red setter dogs followed excitedly, jumping at the newcomers and trying to lick their faces.
“Rohan, Ash, Jasper, get back inside!” Angela shouted, bustling the frenetic hounds back inside the home.
“I love dogs,” said Harkiss.
“We know,” Carpenter replied, “We’ve seen your previous girlfriends.”
Before another argument could ensue, Holbeck spoke up, “How can we help?”
“You can’t right now,” Max replied.
“We don’t have time to show you how the bale loaders work,” Angela added by way of explanation.
“We’re used to humping heavy loads,” Dougal boasted.
“Moving some hay will be a piece of cake,” Harkiss added.
“Our six by five round bales weigh around a tonne each. Feel free to carry as many as you can,” Angela said with a grin.
“A tonne? Well, I didn’t think they’d be quite so heavy,” Harkiss mumbled.
“It wouldn’t be a very good barricade if the big bad wolf could blow it down, would it?”
“I guess not,” Harkiss conceded.
“Leave the poor boy alone,” Max admonished. “If you can get a few pairs of hands, you can topple and roll them. Time is of the essence.”
“We could use some protection too. You’ve made enough noise to wake the dead.” The others groaned at Angela’s pun. Leaning their shotguns against the wall, the sisters hurried away towards the huge barn.
“Langham and Dougal, you’re on watch. Harkiss, Walker, Petermann, Carpenter, help with the bales. Eldridge, on me,” Holbeck ordered and the troops complied in a frenzy of activity.
***
Marching back to the marshland boundary, Holbeck radioed back to base. “Hawkeye, this is Early Bird. Give me an update, over.”
&
nbsp; “Sir, you’ve got a shit storm coming. I’ve conducted a circular sweep and the undead are growing in number. I can only assume it was the noise. Over,” Morrow replied.
“Estimate on numbers? Over.”
“Around two thousand. The largest concentration are the ones following from Witterings and Almodington. Small pockets are approaching from the north and south as well. They’ve got you boxed in, suggest you fall back. Over.”
“Negative. We have a defensible position which we are fortifying now. Is there any possibility of cover from the gunners? Over.”
As the soldiers reached the embankment, they waited patiently for a reply. In the distance, the zombies made their way haphazardly across the uneven terrain. Looking through the binoculars, Eldridge had to stifle a chuckle as a heavy-set male corpse reached a particularly boggy section of ground and sunk through the surface. Within seconds, his whole body and finally the head had disappeared, leaving only a pair of hands. The fingers flexed, seeming to wave at the soldier. The grin died, replaced by a grimace as she thought of the cadaver slowly liquefying, forever submerged in the quagmire.
“What do you see?” Holbeck asked.
“We may have made a mistake in using the guns and explosives, sir.”
“It doesn’t make any difference,” he replied with a shrug, “If it wasn’t today, it would’ve been tomorrow when we hit the entertainment complex. Every monster we can kill is one less we need to worry about in the future.”
“Fair point.”
The radio crackled to life, “Early Bird, this is Captain Hayward. The undead are too widely spread so I’ve decided the use of our remaining artillery assets is a waste of resources. Over.”
“Shit!” hissed Eldridge.
“I’d have made the same call,” Holbeck admitted. Pressing the transmit button, he replied, “Received, sir. We’ll do what’s needed. Over.”
“Please don’t misunderstand. We’re going to use them to mask the coming firefight, instead. If you give us a minutes warning, we’ll fire periodically on all local towns to draw the attention away from you. We can’t do anything about those already inbound, but hopefully we can cut off their reinforcements. Good luck to you all. Over,” Hayward finished.