Hellspawn Dominion

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Hellspawn Dominion Page 12

by Ricky Fleet


  Joan laughed at the quip. “Indeed, but I’m the pool monitor. I can give you the details of head office if you’d like to make a formal complaint. They may be a little slow in getting back to you, though.”

  At this, the others checked if she wanted an escort. “I’ll be fine. I have a good feeling about this gentleman.”

  “I’ve never been called a gentleman before,” Dougal admitted as the lady linked arms and led him away from the auditorium.

  “If you are genuinely here to help us, then that makes you a gentleman. I must admit I was shocked to hear that someone was swinging across to us like a monkey in combat uniform.”

  “I didn’t mean to scare anyone. It was just the safest and easiest way to try and make contact with you all.”

  “Safest?” she asked with a wry smile.

  “Well I’m terrified of heights, but more scared of being eaten. So, yeah, it was the safest way,” he replied.

  Joan took him on a tour of the facility, beginning with the reception and pool house. Sections of steel cladding had been welded to the front doors, completely isolating them from the dead.

  “We were very lucky. The holiday park had been meaning to rebuild this structure last year in a different location. It was to have been constructed using a great deal more windows to give a brighter interior, but the builders went bankrupt a month before they were due to dig the new foundations. If the outer wall had been made of glass instead of the cheap metal cladding from the eighties, we would’ve been overrun in the first few days.”

  “Thank God for recessions, eh?”

  Leaving the muffled groans carrying into the lobby, they passed through the changing rooms of the swimming area. A pleasant, soapy fragrance was trying to fight off the noxious stench coming from the main pool. Leaning inside one of the shower cubicles, Joan turned the valve and water started to flow. No steam accompanied the cascading liquid and Dougal reached out and put his hand in the flow.

  “It’s freezing cold!” he hissed.

  “It’s from a rainwater system I helped to install a couple of years ago. Yes, it’s cold, but at least we can clean ourselves. I could’ve rigged a heater, but it was felt the fuel would be better used to cook, keep us warm and to kill any contaminants by boiling the water we drink.”

  “That makes sense.”

  After closing the valve, she showed him the fire exit which had also been welded closed. Blackened paint had peeled away from the searing frame as the acetylene melted the metal.

  “Who’s the welder?”

  “I am. Among other things.”

  “Really? You’d be a tremendous asset to Thorney Barracks.”

  “Is that where you and your friends are from?”

  “Yes, ma’am. There aren’t many of us left, but we’re trying to change that and bring back any survivors that we can find.”

  “I’m not altogether sure everyone will want to leave.”

  “Why?” Dougal wondered. “Do you have enough food to last for years?”

  “Oh, goodness no. We have enough for a few months, but that’s all.”

  “So why would you stay?” He was having a hard time understanding.

  “You’ll see soon enough.”

  They entered the arcade and familiar memories flooded back from Dougal’s childhood. Flashing lights, the alluring beep and buzz of games machines and scrolling penny drops now sat in silence. It was an eerie sight to see the once manic visual treats masked in shadow and he hurried through. An old friend caused him to stop in his tracks and stare.

  “Would you look at that,” he whispered.

  “It was one of the biggest earners. Ironic, isn’t it?”

  The large machine had two plastic guns holstered near the coin slots. In trickling, blood red font, the words House of the Dead stared back. The blank screen showed their vague reflections where once the players would do battle with hordes of pixelated horrors. Now they could do so in 3D, complete with a true Game Over if they should be bitten.

  “I used to love that game when I was younger.”

  “As did a lot of people. I played it myself on occasion.”

  “I bet the creators didn’t realise how prophetic their game would become.”

  “I should imagine not. Come, let’s see the food hall and then I’ll take you to meet the others.”

  Three fast food franchises had counters side by side, offering pizzas, burgers and fish and chips respectively. Surrounding the premises were easy wipe plastic tables and leather chairs bolted to the floor. A set of doors lay to their right and Joan pushed through, leading the way.

  “This was the main restaurant for people who wanted fine dining. Well, as fine as you can get in a holiday camp, anyway.”

  The contrasting decors separated by a single set of swing doors was remarkable. Each table had a small lamp to provide mood lighting and stainless-steel cutlery laid in preparation for a meal that would never be delivered. The kitchen and bar area were of a far higher standard than the quick fix establishments outside, but bore the age worn feel of the building itself. Several years past due for a refurbishment, the owners had probably held out to save money for the new building. Dougal looked at the bar and its faded varnish, replete with small burn marks from a time when smoking cigarettes had been allowed inside. A fine layer of dust had settled on the glass display shelves to the rear, giving it an air of grubbiness and neglect. The childhood memories of joy in places just like this brought a tear to his eye and he turned away. Beneath his feet, the carpet shifted with a brittle crunch. Among the dark thread was a darker patch of dried blood and he looked at Joan.

  “It was bad during the outbreak,” she explained.

  “At least you managed to fight back and save people.”

  “Not enough,” she sighed. “Not nearly enough.”

  ***

  “Your work?” Dougal asked.

  “I felt better knowing we had a safety net if the dead got inside somehow,” Joan replied with pride.

  Freshly cemented into the walls were heavy duty hinges carrying a patchwork of plate steel welded together to form a door. Expecting a piercing creak, Dougal was surprised when it glided open effortlessly.

  “We keep it oiled,” Joan said, reading his mind.

  Once through, it was closed and three lengths of thick wood were wedged against the metal and dropped into recesses in the floor.

  “How did you find the metal?”

  “I borrowed it from areas that were no longer important.”

  “Wait,” Dougal stopped mid step. “How would this help if the dead got inside? You’d be trapped.”

  “We’re trapped anyway.”

  “I know. I meant what would you do if you couldn’t get to the food and water.”

  “You mean how would we fare dying of dehydration or starvation?”

  Dougal nodded.

  “I made up a concoction from the first aid room. We’d fall asleep and never wake up.”

  Dougal shook his head. “What an awful world we live in.”

  “Indeed,” Joan replied sadly. “Now listen. I need you to be careful with how much information you give the others. Most of them didn’t see the fighting and think there has just been a bad accident.”

  “I don’t understand,” Dougal muttered, completely dumbfounded.

  “Come and meet everyone and you’ll see.”

  Pushing through another set of doors, the truth revealed itself. Sat calmly in three rows facing them were over thirty children, ranging in ages from six to twelve. Their expectant faces gazed up, mouths wide open in shock at the appearance of a real soldier and his gun.

  “Children, I’d like you to say hello to Private Dougal. He’s a soldier in the British Army.”

  The children waved and greeted him as only children could. The synchronous drone of hello, Private Dougal would be familiar to anyone who had spent time in a classroom. Circling the young were Christopher and the other adults, faces set, the threat behind the eyes obviou
s if he should try and endanger them.

  “Now you can see why they were afraid of you and your intentions,” Joan whispered.

  “Where are their parents?” He whispered from the corner of his mouth.

  “Outside,” she replied and shuddered.

  “Oh.”

  “Now that you see our quandary, we can discuss your plans,” Joan said, before turning to the children. “We’re just going to have a chat and a cup of coffee. If you’re good and do your worksheets, I’ll see about making something special for dinner tonight. Deal?”

  Special always meant a freshly made pizza dough with plenty of cheese and delicious toppings. The cold had been their saving grace in food preservation. If it had been coming into summer, most of their supplies would have long ago fallen into decay just like the creatures at the wall.

  Dougal went to follow Joan until a small hand took his own. He looked down into the angelic face of a blonde boy. “Are you here to bring our mummies and daddies back to us?”

  “I… I don’t…” Dougal could barely speak. The wide, misty blue eyes had such trust and hope in them that his stomach twisted into knots.

  “Come now, Robert. Let’s get those math questions worked out,” Christopher said and gently led him away.

  Grief was painted across Dougal’s face and he looked around the cavernous theatre, lost. Joan squeezed his shoulder and smiled warmly. “Let’s get you that drink.”

  ***

  “Can you see why I’m reluctant to leave now? These poor darlings would be forced to flee past their dead parents.”

  “Jesus,” Dougal muttered at the thought.

  “We’re safe in this facility. If the army could see their way to supplying us with food, we could remain here indefinitely.”

  “It’s not that simple, Joan. We don’t have an army any more, just the last few fools who didn’t try and reach their families.”

  “Did the others make it to their loved ones by any chance?” she asked, hopefully.

  “I can’t see how. Those things are everywhere.”

  Lowering her head, she sighed. “Then it seems we are in debt to your foolishness. I understand the dangers of trying to come over land, but is there any way an aerial drop could be arranged?”

  “We don’t have any capacity for that, I’m afraid. We’re down to the last few helicopter crews and they’re working flat out to resupply the forces which are trapped in the mountains.”

  “I see.”

  “Do the children know nothing of the outside world?”

  “No. They were part of a holiday club that was playing in the hall when it all happened. We managed to keep them from the horror, even the ones who were bitten and rose again.”

  “I understand why you did it, but hiding from this isn’t going to help them. We need to get them all to safety, real safety, and that’s the barracks.”

  Joan sat in quiet contemplation for a few moments. “If we were to leave, how would it work? There are only fifteen adults and that’s not enough to protect the young ones from the hundreds of monsters outside.”

  “Our team has set a trap to the north of the park. When the time comes, my friends will draw most of them away and destroy them. The stragglers will be far less concentrated and with the firepower on the Warthogs, we can clear a path to get you all loaded.”

  “Warthogs?”

  “They’re armoured personnel carriers. Impenetrable by explosives, let alone the dead. You’ll be perfectly safe while we head back to Ham Farm, then onto Thorney.”

  “Why Ham Farm?”

  “You must’ve heard the battle from yesterday and this morning?”

  “So, it was you that woke me up?” she replied and they both laughed.

  “My apologies, ma’am. We fought a couple of thousand zombies from Witterings and Almodington. During the melee, I lost a brother.”

  “I’m truly sorry to hear that.” Joan reached out and patted his hand. “I’m sure he was a fine man.”

  “He was. I’ll tell you about him some day.”

  “Let me bring the others in and we can take a vote.”

  Apart from Christopher and one other lady who was leading the studies, everyone joined them. The vote was eleven to two in favour of leaving for the sanctuary provided by the island and its fearsome soldiers.

  “Joan, how can we keep them from panicking when we head outside? They’ll be terrified and freeze,” asked one of the men who voted no.

  “We get them to link hands and keep their eyes closed, Colin.”

  “We can’t do anything about the noises,” he continued. “What if they look to see what is making them?”

  “We can’t do anything about that. It doesn’t change the fact we don’t have a choice if we want to survive though.”

  “But if the soldiers are going to kill the zombies, why do we need to go? We could find a way to scavenge for food if the area is clear.”

  Dougal shook his head. “More will come. They always do.”

  “We need a haven with a future,” Joan declared. “I know you are just trying to protect our children, and I love you for it. Their best chance is with people who can fight the dead.”

  “Ok,” Colin sighed. “You’ve kept us safe this far. I’ll do what you need me to.”

  “One thing, though,” said the other lady who had expressed reluctance. “How do we get out with the doors sealed?”

  “I can get them to ram the doors. Ten tonnes of armoured vehicle will punch clean through,” Dougal explained.

  “So be it. We’ll need half an hour to collect their belongings and prepare them for the ordeal.”

  Dougal rose to his feet and thanked them. It was a great relief to know the innocents would be secure in a few hours. “I’ll let my team know to prepare for the assault in thirty.”

  Retracing his path through the maze of the building, Dougal finally reached the edge of the roof. Nothing had changed in the behaviour of the horde below, they still milled around the walls. Wherever the team were, they were invisible.

  “We’re go for mission. We need one of the drivers to bust through the main doors as they’ve been welded. Give it thirty minutes and then give them hell!”

  A solitary torch flash came from a trailer window, two rows away, safely out of sight of the gathered dead.

  ***

  “Set your watches. Thirty minutes and we go,” Holbeck whispered. “Langham, you’ll hold position here. Petermann and I will take the east of the complex, Harkiss and Eldridge the west. We’ll open fire first, trying to peel them away from the front doors and get them to follow us around the sides. We’ll join back up here and keep picking them off while maintaining a safe distance until they’re in the trap. Is everyone clear?”

  “Yes, Sarge.”

  “Let’s get into position.”

  Separating at the front door of the trailer, they wished each other good hunting and moved off in silence. Dougal could see the stealthy movement and yelled for all he was worth to distract the enemy. Leapfrogging between the concealing shadows, they reached their respective destinations.

  Eldridge looked out along the park’s esplanade in horror. Human remains lay rotting where they had fallen, torn and scattered like confetti. Washed up on the pebble beach were the bloated corpses of the drowned. Forced into the water in an attempt to escape, exhaustion had taken them one by one. As the sea closed over their faces and their frantic struggles ceased, the currents broke them against the submerged rocks of the sea floor before returning them to dry land. Unable to gain their feet, the zombies flopped like fish out of water, rotten lungs coughing up brackish water which refilled with each tide.

  “Just when you thought you’d seen it all,” Harkiss whispered, barely audible.

  Eldridge could only stare in disgust.

  Many hundreds were spread along the outer wall of the complex, clinging to the cladding like putrescent lichen. The sharp slaps of fleshless palms on metal sounded like the pattering of rainfall on
their tin roofed billets from basic training. After twenty-five minutes, it had grown intolerable. Quite how the people inside had endured the noise was a mystery to them both. Glancing at their watches, the last sixty seconds ticked away towards the inevitable confrontation. Adrenaline flooded their systems, heightening their senses as zero flashed on the timer.

  “Now!”

  Breaking cover, they stepped over the festering remnants of the dead holiday makers.

  “Come on you bastards!” Eldridge screamed.

  “Dinner’s served, mother fuckers!” Harkiss yelled.

  Holbeck and Petermann’s shouts carried from the opposite end of the building. Unable to shoot at the horde due to the risk of hitting each other in the crossfire, they fired into the air. Taken by their insatiable cravings, the zombies split away like Moses parting the sea and flowed towards the soldiers to the north and south.

  “Fall back to the next row of caravans!”

  Taking up position, they shouldered their assault rifles and waited. Preceded by rapturous groans of anticipation, the swarm of dead poured around the corner and from between the separate plots. The inhuman din was drowned out by the crackling, automatic rifle fire. Raking the bodies, bullets tore through ribcages and stomachs. Until the soldiers converged, the decision had been made to simply keep their attention instead of killing them with head shots. A pile of bodies in the narrow alleys between the static homes could create a barricade which would scupper their plan. The main road back to the waiting trap was much wider and the undead could more easily navigate around any that were shot during the retreat.

  “Next row!” Harkiss shouted when the creatures were almost close enough to touch.

  Repeating the tactic, most of their loyal following were still engaged when the separate groups of soldiers joined forces once more.

  “Single shots and pick your targets from the sides. We need to funnel them!” ordered Holbeck.

  Individual streams of the shambling horrors converged into a solid mass of leaking corruption on the road. Surging forward, the troops let loose their hatred from the barrels. Heads burst apart, throwing the bodies against the trailers, coating them in green gore and brain.

 

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