Hellspawn Dominion

by Ricky Fleet

  Reaching the branch in the winding hallways which led to the roof, Gerry asked the obvious. “What about the hall?”

  “Christopher has blocked the doors to keep the kids safe. We only get inside once we can ensure their safety,” Joan explained.

  “Good. Let’s go and get ready, I want to get some payback.”

  “You go, I’m going to make sure I have their undivided attention,” she replied.

  Propping the stairwell open with a metal bin, she watched the others run up the stairs and open the upper door. Using the shovel, she started to hit the steel handrail with the metal blade. Each clang echoed through the building, like a dinner bell being rung.

  “I hope we aren’t on the menu,” she whispered to herself as the zombies rounded the corner.

  The die had been cast. For good or ill, only time would tell. Taking the steps two at a time, the others were waiting for her at the top. Their faces had changed from scared to terror stricken.

  “Have you looked at the park?”

  Gerry nodded slowly.

  “That bad?”

  He nodded again.

  “I need to see.”

  “We’ll hold them here if they make it up, love,” Gerry replied.

  Moving to the roofline, the screams and shouts told her everything she needed to know. Small fires had broken out and people ran for their lives between the increasing numbers of undead. Cars raced to and fro on the small roads, their terrified occupants skidding and crashing, adding to the feelings of pandemonium. The sight of a surrounded family was too much. Moving to protect his loved ones, the father faced off against thirty of the lumbering horrors and Joan had to turn away before the inevitable bloodshed. Filled with a growing fury, she clenched the tool until her knuckles went white. Her aching muscles were forgotten as she moved back towards the roof access. The others were relieved and stepped respectfully out of her way when they saw the look on her face.

  “Come and get it, you bastards!” she screamed.

  The ascending zombies filled the stairwell, sliding against the walls as they jostled to be the first to feed. All they tasted was the steel of Joan’s weapon as it cleaved through their ranks.

  ***

  “Wow,” gasped Eldridge. “And you managed to keep the place safe during that craziness?”

  Joan sat back, sipping on her drink. “It was easy once I’d welded the front doors and the fire escapes. They had no way to get in, and we had no way to get out.”

  “You’re amazing.”

  “It would’ve been for nothing if you hadn’t shown up. Eventually the food would’ve run out and we’d have starved. Now the children can get a little part of their lives back. Fresh air, exercise, learning, and an even bigger family.”

  “I needed to talk to you about that,” Eldridge replied.

  Joan listened intently as she explained the gravity of the situation on the mountains. After the team had risked their own lives, it was only right she should do the same.

  “I’m going with you to the castle.”

  “Captain Hayward won’t allow a civilian to go with us, I’m afraid.”

  “I served my twelve years on the Versatile Engagement before getting into maintenance. I can still run and gun with the best of them.”

  “Really? When did you get out?”

  “I was discharged in March 2005.”

  “Any reason you didn’t stay for the full twenty-four?”

  “Three tours of Iraq were enough for me,” Joan replied quietly.

  Eldridge knew the feeling all too well. The things she had seen on her tours of Afghanistan would stay with her forever.

  “I’ll talk with the captain and get you cleared. I know the others will be glad to have you on board after the way you handled yourself.”

  “When do we leave?”

  “The day after tomorrow at first light most likely. Did you want to come with me to the range and I’ll show you the ins and outs of the new rifles.”

  “I’ve been drinking,” Joan warned, holding up the half empty bottle.

  “Half a beer? I think you’ll be ok,” Eldridge replied with a wink.

  CHAPTER 24

  Hombre wiped at the moisture streaked mirror, revealing himself once more. Checking for nicks and cuts on his freshly shaven head, he looked this way and that. Satisfied he had removed the annoying fuzz, he rinsed the razor in the warm bowl and used a damp towel to wipe away the remaining foam. Pulling back his lips, he admired his white, even teeth. Reaching into the roof of his mouth, he pulled the false tooth out which had replaced the one lost against a fearsome Romanian fighter four years ago. It had been one hell of a punch and, for the first time ever, he had been rattled.

  “Still lost though, didn’t you?” he grumbled, scouring the tooth in his palm with the brush and paste.

  An uneasy feeling had settled into his stomach in the recent days. Ever since the arrival of Mike and Debbie, things had been going south. A tension had crept in and pervaded the dark hallways of the prison. It was partly the knowledge of the impending attack by the Fowler brothers; the way he would catch certain glimpses of knowing eyes or scornful glares. He had noted down every name and, if given permission, would learn their secrets with his fists. No such order had been given which was out of the ordinary. Craig was normally unshakeable, with a single-minded pursuit of his hold on power, but too much time and planning was being devoted to revenge on Kurt. What good would retribution be if the Fowler’s seized control in the confusion? Not that he was afraid, far from it in fact. The violence and mayhem would be legendary. It would mean fighting his way clear of the prison and forging a new path on his own, which may not be a bad thing. Being alone was safer in many ways, and perhaps even a single companion could join him, if she survived.

  “Debbie…” he whispered.

  Following Mike’s betrayal against her, he had done his duty and kept his mouth shut for the good of the prison. A woman like that was touched, that much was obvious, but she had just as much moxie as Hombre himself. Rigging the cell to explode had been a brave move and as he had carried her limp body away, his admiration blossomed into something deeper. It was not love, at least not yet, but he was unable to deny the fierce attraction.

  Leaving his room, he made his way to the medical wing. The doctor looked up from his task briefly to glower and then finished bandaging the arm of the prisoner. Seeing Hombre, the young man turned pale.

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing, boss. I fell over and cut myself.”

  “Are you likely to fall over and cut yourself again, or have you sorted your differences with the offending inanimate object?” Hombre growled, crowding the man. The rules on inter wing violence were for everyone’s good and any transgressions had to be nipped in the bud.

  “No, boss. It’s all sorted now.”

  “If I hear anything different, I’ll pay you and this object a visit. Do you understand?”

  Nodding, he hurried out of the room.

  “Must you always be so aggressive?” asked Dr Feeley.

  “Yes,” Hombre replied bluntly. “How is she?”

  “She still hasn’t woken and that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It’s giving her body time to heal. Her eardrums are badly damaged which may lead to either permanent hearing loss or at the very least a bad case of tinnitus. I was surprised at the lack of damage to her lungs from the pressure of the blast itself. Normally, haemorrhaging is to be expected, but she must have held a hand over her nose and mouth. Even the burns are only first degree, superficial, and should leave little in the way of scarring. The gas burned itself out so quickly that it couldn’t penetrate to the deeper layers of dermis and epidermis. Her teeth will need some work, and without a dentist to hand, extraction would probably be the easiest solution. Apart from needing a good trim to tidy up the burnt hair, I see no reason for her to not recover fully in time. I can give you a more detailed diagnosis when she wakes.”

  “Ok.”

 
; “If her hearing is a lost cause, the library has books on sign language,” Dr Feely called out as Hombre entered the private room.

  “I’ll write notes. I gave up learning at twelve and it never did me any harm.”

  “Wait! Can I have just a moment of your time?” asked the doctor, trying to follow.

  “When I’m done. Now fuck off and leave us before I get angry.”

  “Of course, thank you,” he replied, dodging backwards as the door slammed in his face.

  Approaching the bed, Hombre sat down on the edge and picked up Debbie’s hand. For some reason, he expected it to be cold and clammy, but instead it was warm and dry. Stroking the brittle, scorched hair from her brow, she looked serene. Her beauty shone despite the blisters and encrusted scabs from the explosion and previous injuries. The throbbing in Hombre’s chest grew; an unusual feeling that was alien to him. It could very well be the first stirrings of love, or could just as easily be lust. Rape served a need, but sex was always more satisfying when the other party was a willing participant, paid or unpaid.

  “I’ll look after you now, you sexy, crazy bitch,” Hombre declared, squeezing the unresponsive hand.

  How the relationship would work, Hombre could not say. He was not even certain she would want him, anyway. Common sense dictated he should steer clear because of his love for Craig and the complications which could arise. While she belonged to Mike, he had honoured that rule, but now she was free. Time would reveal the truth.

  “You might not even make it back,” he admitted to himself.

  The mission was a simple one; reach the construction site and tow the generator back to the prison. This time he had opted to go alone and refused all offers of help. Most of the prisoners were too useless to do anything other than serve as zombie food. Matt was the only other man who he would have taken, but he had his own task in finding suitable vessels to ferry the building materials up and down the river. Scouts were already scouring the surrounding area for fuel tankers and as soon as the generator was safely within the walls, he would be heading out on the road again. After many weeks of inactivity, it was good to be busy, even with the added danger. Looking at his watch, the day was young and he had at least eight hours of daylight to use. Moving cautiously, he should be at the building site in just over two hours. Allowing a further hour or two to clear the area of zombies, or draw them away should there be too many, he would be eating dinner by the days end. The vehicle and its cargo could wait outside the walls until a safe plan could be devised to get it past the dead. Standing, he kissed Debbie’s forehead, catching the acrid stench of burnt hair.

  “I’ll be back for you. I promise.”

  Dr Feely was poised outside the door and started complaining as soon as Hombre left the room. “You must tell Craig that I can’t be involved in any more of the vile executions. It’s barbaric and I won’t be the cause of any more pain. I’m a doctor for goodness sake.”

  “Discipline has to be maintained or this place would descend into chaos.”

  “Peeling the skin from a man isn’t discipline. It’s pure evil.”

  “With the dead rising from the grave and eating every living thing, the word evil loses much of its meaning. Isn’t it better to sacrifice a few lives to save the hundreds within these walls?”

  “Why not just lock them in solitary? Surely that’s more humane?”

  “Doesn’t have quite the same deterrent value, though, does it?”

  “I won’t be a part of it anymore!”

  Hombre sighed. “I’ll tell him. Then he’ll ignore me. When it happens again, he’ll threaten another of the children and you’ll cave in. Why must we go around and around in circles, Doc?”

  “I won’t do it!”

  “Fine,” Hombre muttered. Walking out, he called over his shoulder. “Keep her safe for me or you’ll be the one tied to the board.”

  “You can’t threaten me!” yelled Dr Feely.

  “It wasn’t a threat, it was a promise!”

  ***

  Craig pulled Hombre into a tight embrace. “Are you sure you won’t take a few extra pairs of hands?”

  “No. I want to move quickly and quietly.”

  “And what if you get into trouble?”

  “I’ll fight my way out of it. Don’t worry about me, I won’t do anything stupid.”

  “You don’t need to do anything stupid to get hurt out there. Those bastards are hiding around every corner.”

  “Aww. Anyone would think you love me, boss.”

  “Get the fuck out of here, you big lug. I’ll see you for dinner!” Craig pushed him towards the tunnel and walked away.

  “Keep your head down out there, brother,” Matt grumbled and followed their leader.

  “You too, mate. Good luck on the coast.”

  Left alone with the tunnel guards, Hombre made a final check of his provisions. The ice axes hung from his belt and the slight bulge of the pistol in his jacket went unnoticed by the others. Water, food and tools were stowed in a small leather holdall, carefully wrapped to minimise the noise of his travel. With a firm nod to the prisoners, he descended the steps into the dark passage and fired up the torch. A lantern burned a short distance down the tunnel and the man on duty unlocked the door as Hombre approached.

  “Be safe, boss.”

  “Always,” Hombre replied, ducking through and striding away as the steel clanged shut behind him.

  The beam of light illuminated the sturdy supports spaced evenly along the length of the passage. Insects skittered and fled under the vibrations and scrutiny, burrowing into any available crevice. Trying his best to breathe through open mouth, Hombre wrinkled his nose. He had always hated the earthy, moist smell below ground. The footfalls echoed both in front and behind, bouncing from the walls. A vice seemed to tighten on his chest, causing short, sharp gasps to escape his lips. Concentrating on the number of paces he had memorised, he fought through the burgeoning claustrophobia. It never affected him as deeply when he had fellow travellers in the darkness because of their distraction. But alone, with nothing but his own thoughts and the companionship of many legged creatures, it was nearly crippling. Several tortuous minutes later, the circular beam picked out the reflection of the aluminium ladder ahead. It was like a release valve opening on his anxiety, bleeding out the pressure which had been building.

  Pausing at the foot of the steps, he listened carefully for any moans or shuffling of dead feet. A chill wind had sprung up and tugged at the loose board, whispering through the cracks and masking much of the noise of the outside world. Climbing up, he pressed both palms against the damp ply and raised it a few inches. Twisting, he repeated the procedure for all directions. Apart from the frigid draught which stung his exposed face, nothing else was topside. Heaving the sheet aside, Hombre quickly hopped up and replaced the heavy cover over the tunnel mouth and raced for concealment. The entrance to the farm shop was dark, providing a good vantage point to scan the area. The fields at each side had a small smattering of zombies wandering aimlessly. Either he could kill them, or just walk around and ignore them. The alleyway towards the main shopping promenade was completely devoid of life, or unlife.

  Opening the small map, Hombre held it out into the daylight. The route would take him through open fields, an expanse of woodland and then directly into a town where the construction site was based. The town itself was probably swarming with the dead which is why he had opted to go solo. Any fuck ups would be on his shoulders alone. Stowing the map, he left the shadows and rounded the metal clad farm shop. Heading west-south-west, he hopped a fence and dropped into the field beyond. The ground was solid and crunched beneath his heavy boots. Sensing the warmth of the living, the zombies turned in his direction and started their laborious approach. Pausing to destroy them would waste valuable time, and ignoring them would mean he had a few eager followers.

  “Fuck it!”

  Making a beeline for the closest threat, Hombre unsheathed the ice axes. Beneath the filth and g
ore, a police officer’s uniform could just be made out.

  “Well, well, well. Hello, pig,” Hombre snarled.

  Slashing the ice axe up between the man’s legs, it embedded deeply in the groin. It was purely symbolic; a sign of his deep-seated hatred for the law. Wrenching upwards, the creature was pulled off balance and fell onto its back. Standing on its throat, he raised the second axe and swung it downwards through the temple. Wrestling the blade free, he lifted a heavy boot and stamped down repeatedly on the grey, decayed face. When the head was nothing but mulch, he began rifling through the utility belt. Attached was a retractable baton, handcuffs, pepper spray and a newly issued Taser with three cartridges. Packing the items away and sliding the baton into his belt, the next zombie got within grabbing distance. Instead of a warm, shrieking meal, all the festering man got was a broken jaw from Hombre’s left hook. Knocked off balance, it composed itself and lunged forward again into two lighting jabs which mashed its blackened nose flat. Attempting to dance around the corpse, the uneven ground made it too awkward and he gave up the boxing practice.

  “Let’s see how much use this thing is,” he muttered, extending the baton.

  Swinging the metal down, it cracked into the forehead, tearing the skin. Sideswiping, aiming for the weakened bone around the ear and temple, still the monster came on.

  “Fucking useless, that’s how much!”

  Dropping the weapon, he punched with all his might into the seeping forehead, crushing the bone back into the brain. It was known as a bull hammer in bare knuckle fighting circles and had left many a fractured skull in its wake. The weakened bone of the undead made it even more devastating. Kneeling, he wiped the gore from his thick leather gloves onto the only patch of clean clothing available. Knowing he was wasting time, he put the baton in his bag just in case. As his absentee father had always said in the rare visits; it’s better to have something and not need it, than need something and not have it.

  Marching across the field between the remaining zombies, he butchered them unceremoniously and forged on towards the next farmstead. The old building was abandoned, with windows smashed and the doors hanging from torn hinges. No mark adorned the outer wall from the raiding parties. Each building which had been cleared was painted with a simple white cross to prevent time wasting. Given more time, he may have been tempted to search within the walls for any booty, but the mission was far too important and he made a mental note for the scavenging crews.