by Ricky Fleet
“Your friends are dead,” Kurt seethed. “I told you not to do this, but you wouldn’t listen. Get back in your fucking room!”
DB ignored them as they sealed themselves off and pushed against the door at the end of the hall. It was firmly shut, with no signs of blood, green or red, in the area. Opening the heavy exit, nothing lay in wait on the other side. Honey came running, tail tucked between her legs as she sniffed the damp air. Both men watched on as the heightened canine senses scanned for a threat. Slowly, her hackles lowered and her bushy tail commenced wagging as she relaxed.
“I didn’t see any undead apart from the castle survivors,” DB muttered.
“What the hell’s going on?” Kurt replied, realising the soldier was right.
CHAPTER 36
“Come on, nearly home,” said Billy, leading the horses and the stumbling, hooded figure.
Night had fallen an hour ago, but he knew the way well enough to use only the sparse moonlight to see by. The scarred Pitbull trotted by his side, sniffing the air for unfamiliar scents. Their companion was known to them, so the dog ignored him and spent most of the time cocking a leg to mark his territory. Unable to see through the fabric, the man fell occasionally and Billy had to carefully help him back to his feet. Knowing where the hidden traps were, he led the procession safely through the gauntlet and out the other side. Ahead, the faint glow of firelight could be seen past the empty buildings.
He came to a stop, and the dog stared up at him. “Don’t give me that look. You’re not the one that’s going to get murdered.”
The horses became restless, moving to the side of the road to graze on the tall grass. The hooded man swayed, waiting for the signal to move again. Beneath the hood was a gag, blindfold and a pair of headphones blaring into his ears. It was meant to keep him distracted until they made it back. Billy’s heart raced. The knowledge of what may happen when he reached their destination played out in his mind on a loop. None of the scenarios was encouraging and, deep down, he knew if the procrastination continued he would turn around and try to disappear. Ultimately, loyalty to his family won out and he took a shaky pace forward.
“Will you miss me, boy?” he said to the dog who was more interested in the animal scents in the bushes.
All it would take was for someone to give him a bone and Billy would be forgotten.
“Fuck you then!”
The glow grew brighter and for the first time in an hour, he could see clearly. Nothing dead lurked in the shadows, they were all indisposed. He could hear the massed groans of thousands of them coming from nearby. Turning the corner, the sight before him always filled him with awe. A mound of compacted earth soared sixty feet into the air, stretching for a mile around the perimeter of the camp. Angled banks tapered down into the thirty-foot-deep ditch which surrounded the excavated earth. From the darkness came the growls and shuffling of the trapped zombies below. Standing by the indentation on the road, Billy could see the multitudes staring up at him.
“Who goes there?” came a shout from the makeshift wall.
Billy gave a final thought to bolting, but he had nowhere else to go and they would find him eventually. Sighing, he called out, “It’s me.”
“Billy? What the fuck happened?”
“Lower the bridge and I’ll tell you.”
“Lower it!” yelled the guard.
From inside the compound, two heavy machines grumbled to life. Chains clattered against the rickety metal frame as they moved forward, dropping the massive bridge into place across the void. The dog bolted, eager to be inside and warm. Pulling on the ropes, the horses and man followed obediently. Crossing the patchwork bridge, the guards covered him with their guns. The light gradually illuminated him and the men all gaped at the sight before them.
“Is that who I think it is?” asked one, pointing at the body draped across the horse.
“Yeah,” Billy replied.
“Oh shit. And you came back?”
Billy shrugged, “What else was I supposed to do?
“I respect that, lad.”
“With any luck, she’ll make it quick,” he said, stomach churning in fear.
“I hope so,” said the man, “I truly do.”
Emerging from the trailers were dozens of men, women, and children. No one spoke as he passed, they simply lowered their heads in pity. Engines roaring, the bridge was pulled back up, sealing them off again. The three-storey pub in the middle of the island had candles flickering in the windows, leading the way. His fate would be decided in the next few minutes, one way or another.
A man stepped from the shadows, holding out a hand. “Let me take the horses, boy. She’s waiting for you.”
“Can you bring him in for me?” Billy asked, nodding at the dead man.
“I can do that.”
Keeping hold of the last rope, he led the stumbling man through the doors and into the bar area. Stony faced men and women stared at him and the trussed figure. Parting like the Red Sea for Moses, the empty passage marked his way. Lifting feet that felt like lead weights, he moved towards the private room and his fate.
“Bad?” asked one of the huge bouncers.
“Worse,” Billy replied, tears beginning to flow.
Stepping aside, he opened the door and bowed his head. The woman waiting inside was leaning against the fireplace, staring at the grey ashes. The door closed, leaving them alone. The only sound was the shuffling of the hooded man who was unable to stay still. Billy’s heart nearly stopped when the woman stood up straight, slowly turning. He started to tremble and urine flowed down his leg.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs Hampton. There was nothing I could do.”
Staring at him, she turned to the man stood behind. “I saw it in the leaves,” she whispered.
“I wish I could swap places with them,” Billy sobbed, dropping to his knees.
“It couldn’t be stopped. It was already written,” she muttered, moving past him.
“Be careful. Please,” he begged.
“He won’t hurt his mam,” she said, removing the hood.
Patrick’s body was grotesque, dripping blood and vile fluids as he stood in the middle of the room. His face had fared no better, cheeks, lips, and parts of the scalp missing. The jaw clamped open and closed automatically on the wood strapped between his teeth, as if they knew what needed to be done even without the warm meat to chew.
A quiet rapping came from the door and, without waiting for an answer, the bouncer carried a body in. Gently laying it on the table, he bowed his head respectfully and walked out.
“My poor boys,” she cooed, stroking the remaining hair before moving to Frankie.
The gunshot wound had destroyed the back of the ocular cavities. The eyes were staring in awkward directions, one protruding bulbously and close to falling out. The blood vessels had burst under the pressure of the expanding slug before it had erupted from the side of his head. Bits of brain and fluid were still trickling from the wound, coating the varnish on the old table.
“My poor, sweet boy.”
“I’m so very sorry for your loss.”
“Who did this thing to my children?” she snarled, face twisting into an insane mask of hatred.
“I don’t know his name, but I followed him back to the prison. They have a tunnel that leads inside,” Billy babbled, close to passing out.
“Tomorrow, you’ll show their uncles where this hole is. Then we’ll know what to do,” she demanded, glowering down at him.
“Of course. Whatever you say, Mrs Hampton.”
“Good.”
“Are… are you not going to kill me?”
She smiled, and in her grief, it was a dreadful sight. “No. You brought my boys back to me, Billy. I’m thankful for that kindness. Go and get yourself a drink and a bite to eat, you’ll need to keep your strength up.”
Astonishment at making it through the meeting paralyzed him. Holding out a hand, she helped him to his feet and ushered him out.
“Lennie, can you come in please?”
The giant ducked under the door and joined her, tears streaming from the loss of his cousins.
“Tomorrow, Billy’s going to show you the location of the prison and their tunnel.”
“What do you want us to do?”
“Nothing yet,” she replied, wiping at the shredded meat of her son’s face with a hankie. “Find it and remember it. We’ll sit down and plan how to kill those sons of whores afterwards.”
“Good,” he whispered, turning to leave.
“And Lennie?”
“Yes?”
“When you get back with Billy, take him to your little girl, the one who trained as a nurse.”
“Kizzy? What for.”
“My boy’s going to be hungry,” she muttered, dabbing at the stringy drool falling from the torn gums. “Tie him down and start with the meat on his legs. Tell her I want Billy to last him right through the winter. If she needs specific medication, get me a list.”
“I’ll see it’s done,” Lennie said, closing the door on the macabre family reunion.
The End
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 working 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.
With the Hellspawn series receiving love from across the world, the growing saga has a dark edge that begins to explore the true horror of a world without rules.
Infernal – Emergence is the first in his new demon series. A tale of conspiracy, untapped powers and the vast armies of Hell who yearn to tear our world apart. Only one man stands in their way; he just doesn’t know it yet.
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.
You can find me at the following places:
On Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Ricky-Fleet/e/B072C2GX6X
On Facebook at my fan club https://www.facebook.com/groups/175304226349208/
On Facebook on my author page https://www.facebook.com/Author-Ricky-Fleet-751475768315453/
And at my publisher: http://optimusmaximuspublishing.com/