Dead Ahead

by Park, Grant

  They raided the cupboards in the kitchen for their dinner. Corned beef with beans and smash. It was the best they had eaten for days. It was a miracle for them to find a hob that ran on gas. It was a delight just to eat a warm meal on a plate rather than cold soup from a can. They ate well before sundown, boiled and bottled plenty of water and prepared for the night.

  They barred the doors and windows as best they could. They couldn’t go nailing anything together as the noise just attracted the infected, so they just had to use what furnishings were available and wedge and lock where they could. They chose the master bedroom to sleep in as it had an easy escape route over a side building. They pulled the double bed in front of the bedroom door and hunkered down for the night

  His dad still didn’t take off his motorbike gear, but then, Brandon didn’t take anything off either. They both slept with what they carried with them in the day, what weapons they could sleep with they did, and kept the others close to hand. But sleep never came easy, and when it finally did come it was rarely pleasant.

  This night was no exception.

  _________________________

  Brandon was home again. The sun was bright in the sky; he could smell the freshly cut grass from the neighbours’ gardens as he made his way down the street. He was on his way to his mothers’ house, a route he had a million times before, and before long he was there. He hopped over the garden wall and cut across the grass to the front door. Next thing he knew he was sat at the table, arms folded in front of him looking at his mum who was stood with her back to him, he could hear her talking but couldn’t understand what she was saying to him, it was like he had cotton wool in his ears. Slowly she started to turn around to look at him and for a second he swore her eyes were a pale white and she held Johns in her hands. But then there she was, sat in front of him at the table smiling at him in the way that only his mother could. He tried to smile back but found that he couldn’t.

  “Why don’t you smile son....” she was sat beside him now “....you have such a handsome smile.” She raised her hand and placed it gently on his jaw line, her fingers just below his ear. “Smile,” she said softly. He tried, but couldn’t. Her fingers tightened around his jaw and she started to frown at him. “Smile,” she said more forcefully. Then she started to bare her teeth in what at first looked like a smile, but her teeth were rotten and bloodstained. “S-m-i-i-i-i-g-g-g-h-h-h-l-l-l.....” The word rasped in her throat as she forced it out. Slowly the rest of her face started to decay; hair started falling from her head and her fingernails began to dig into Brandon’s face, pulling it towards her gaping jaws. He tried to push her away but she was so strong that he couldn’t, his fingers slipped and grabbed at her rotting flesh, oozing between his fingers. His hand scrabbled on the table for something, anything he could use as a weapon, and landed on a fork. But this was his mum; he raised the fork to her face. As he pushed the fork deep into her eye socket he felt the tears streaming down his cheeks.

  Chapter

  2

  Dead Run

  Caleb woke before dawn, but he always woke before dawn now. He sat at the bedroom window watching the sunrise. He liked to remind himself that the world was still able to produce something so beautiful. Also, he liked to be sure there wasn’t any of the dead waiting outside for him. Today was a good day; there wasn’t anything out there but blue skies and fresh air. He didn’t know the time, the sun was the only timepiece now, and it was pointed directly at food o’clock. There were porridge oats and honey in the kitchen. He looked at the boy. He used to love porridge and honey. ‘I wonder if that will put a smile on his face?’ he thought to himself.

  “Its time to get up.” he said quietly, shaking the boys shoulder. “Jeez, only you could sleep through the apocalypse. Get up!” The boy rolled over and gave him a blank expression through bloodshot brown eyes that looked all too much like his mothers. He wiped his sleeve across his nose and gave a sniff, then ran his hand through his tussled hair, making no improvement on the black strands sticking out in every direction. He was still dressed in his dirty, worn blue jeans and torn black jumper. Caleb ruffled Brandon’s hair a little more and said “C’mon. Help me move this bed and I’ll make breakfast.

  After breakfast (which failed at the smile test) Caleb had a snoop around the workshop for weapons. The place had obviously been pretty successful, too successful for Caleb’s liking. Too many machines and not enough hand tools. He got a few nice sharp chisels and a good, 22oz leather handled roofing hammer, but that was it. There were a couple of ornamental looking scythes hung up on the wall of the workshop, but they were too cumbersome, and nothing compared to the Naginata. He left with his spoils and headed back to the house.

  When he got to the house the boy was sitting at the kitchen table with various kitchen knives stabbed into it. He was busying himself with duck taping one of the larger ones on to a broom handle. “It seems to work for you.” he said without lifting his head.

  “This is yours if you want it?” Caleb said stabbing the point of the hammer into the table amongst the kitchen knives.

  He looked up at Caleb and said “Nah,” with a slight twinkle in his eye hefting something from his belt “I found this under the stairs.” he stuck the hatchet into the table by the point at the bottom of the blade.

  “Ha! Well you certainly are my son. C’mon, let’s hit the road”

  “Wait” the boy said tentatively “these…” he was fishing in his pocket “…are yours if you want them?” He tossed the keys over and Caleb caught them with a sharp exhale through his nose.

  “You know how I feel about this....”

  “I do, but how far do you reckon we are from the sea?”

  “It’s not as simple as getting to the fucking sea. I have explained this....” Caleb said trying not to lose his temper.

  “Can we at least see how much fuel is in it first?”

  Caleb calmed. The boy had a point. “OK, OK, we will take a look and see what we got.”

  They went round to the garage and opened the door to see what god awful run around had been left to them.

  “Highlux.... Nice!” As it turns out it wasn’t too bad, dark blue 1992 Toyota Highlx pickup truck, fully kitted out with spots on the front bars and on the bars behind the cab. “It’s got bull bars at least. Let’s see what we got in the tank.” Caleb climbed in and grimaced as he started the engine. It was too loud for his liking. The petrol gauge climbed up past the quarter mark and kept on going to just past half a tank. That made the boy smile!

  “How far do you think we can get on that?” he asked.

  “That’s gonna get us well over the border, my boy. Good call. You go see what food you can collect from the house and sling it in a bag. I’ve just had an idea!”

  Caleb rolled the Hilux out of the garage, popped the bonnet and made his way back to the workshop. As he was returning with the scythes the boy was bringing their bags out to the truck.

  “I thought I would get these first…. What are they for?” He said as he slung the bags and weapons into the back.

  “Oh, these? I just thought they would come in handy.” Caleb said flippantly.

  The boy just shook his head and walked back to the house. Caleb opened the bonnet and put a scythe either side of the engine with the blades hanging out over the wheel arches. They were a terrible fit, but he knew they would be. He lowered the hood and waited for the boy. He didn’t have to wait long however.

  The boy came out of the house in a dead run, spilling tins and packets behind him, “Go, Go!” he screamed, “They’re coming, they’re coming!”

  Caleb lifted the bonnet as high as he could and slammed it shut, buckling the sides of it upwards to make room for the scythes, but it didn’t catch. He tried again, it still didn’t catch. The boy was nearly at the truck and he could see the infected coming round the side of the house. He climbed on top of the bonnet and jumped on the front of it with both feet, finally he felt it catch beneath him and he clambered over
the truck to the still open driver’s door. As he climbed inside, the boy was at the passenger side rattling on the window, he popped the door open then closed his own. Shouting, “Lock it!” to the boy he reached for the clutch and slammed it into first, just as he heard a thump coming from the back of the truck. He gunned the engine, wheel spinning away from the house, spraying the infected fuckers with gravel, sliding out of the driveway and down the single lane road.

  “Fucking hell, son.... Too close! Too fucking close!”

  “Dad....”

  “Holy shitballs, we need to be more careful!”

  “Dad!”

  “What?”

  “There’s one in the back!”

  Caleb looked in the rear view mirror to see one of the infected staring right back at him, desperately clawing at the rear window of the cab, pressing its rancid, torn face against the glass. When he looked back to the road they were rapidly approaching a T junction and he slammed on the breaks. The infected slapped its rotting carcass against the window and did a flip over the roof of the truck rolling across the bonnet and onto the tarmac. Caleb stuck it in reverse and backed up a little as the bastard was getting up.

  “The rest are still coming!” The boy said looking out the back

  “I see them,” Caleb gunned the engine, looking in the rear view at them, then he swung the steering to the left and lined the right side of the truck at the infected who was dragging its leg towards them. They shot forward, leaving the others in the dust. The scythe blade sticking out the right side went clean through the torso of the limper, spraying thick coagulated blood over the windscreen.

  “Better keep your window wound up son.” Caleb said chuckling as he scooshed the windows and let the wipers clear away the blood! The boy finally stopped looking out the back window when they disappeared round the next bend in the road.

  “I’m not sure the truck was such a good idea Dad!”

  “We’re away from them now son, don’t worry!”

  “But more will hear us, they’ll be running now. Wont they?”

  “Aye, But we’re faster ain’t we?

  “I suppose....” The boy was shaken. They couldn’t have been far behind him when he left the house.

  “Try the radio son, see if you can get west FM!” He just gave him one of those patented blank looks and switched on the radio. ‘I’ll take that blank look over fear,’ Caleb thought to himself. There is too much fear in the boy’s heart as it is. I’ve got to keep him strong. Got to keep up hope! They sped down the tight road at a reasonable pace. Passing beautiful little thatched cottages with blood smeared walls. He didn’t want to go too fast as you never knew what was round the next corner. ‘Not too dissimilar to walking really’ he thought. ‘You never know what’s round the next fucking corner.’

  “Nothing, just static.” He switched the radio off and looked over to him.

  Caleb slowed the pickup down to a standstill at the stop signs in the crossroads “What next?” Caleb said, pointing to the road.

  “We can’t go straight on, that’s just heading back the way we came. The sign says the left leads to the motorway which is jammed. So I guess its right,” he said pointing to the sign, towards Durdar and Dalston.

  “You’re getting good at this,” Caleb laughed as he swung the truck to the right and headed down the road. Still he didn’t get so much as a smile from the boy.

  They travelled the back roads for hours. Shying away from any signs of what might be a town. If any road took them close to what looked like a built up area they would U turn and find another way. It was slow going, very slow going.

  Caleb entertained himself with slicing the scythes through pretty much anything that wouldn’t break them off. His crowning glory was catching a husk on either side at the same time and landing one of their heads in the back of the truck.

  “Huh? Did you see that? Told you the scythes were a stroke of genius didn’t I?” He proclaimed proudly.

  “Very good Dad, but I’m not fucking popping that one!”

  “Oi! Watch your fucking mouth!” Caleb said frowning at the boy. The gobsmacked look on the boys face put Caleb into fits of laughter for about five minutes after that. During the five minutes of Caleb giggling his little head off the boy had discovered a road map in the glove box and was studying it. “Dad, we fucked up!” he said suddenly

  “What did I just tell you about that sort of language?” He chuckled “Wait. What do you mean ‘fucked up!’”

  “We’re headed east, ain’t we...?”

  “Yeah, far as I can tell,”

  “....and then north?”

  “Yup.”

  “Well there are only a few bridges as far as I can see that are headed up around Carlisle; and they all look a bit too close to the city for my liking!”

  “Shit! Let me have a look” Caleb sat the map on the steering wheel and slowed down. “Can you take the wheel for a min Bran?” the boy nodded and he slowed even further studying the map intently. “You’re right boy, by fuck you’re right! And them bridges are gonna be chocka with all the people who were trying to get out of Carlisle. We got to swing back around and go at it from the west. Fuck! We’ve lost most of the day.”

  He threw the map back to the boy and started punching the steering wheel “FuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK!” he took a couple of deep breaths, “Oh fucking well, when the world gives you shit you make shitcakes! See if you can work out where we are buddy; let’s spin this death trap around!”

  He performed a perfect thirty two point turn in the middle of the single carriageway and headed back down the road still muttering curses to him self. As they rounded a corner they piled through a small group of Husks who were tumbling out of a gap in the hedge on the left. The first fell under the wheels and another was sliced neatly in two by a scythe. The others, however, were bunched up and hit the truck square on in an explosion of rotting body parts. Limbs and heads went flying in all directions, sending a fountain of black blood soaring over the truck. The window washers took a ridiculous amount of time to clear the windscreen of blood and pieces of husk. Only to reveal a clabbered mess over the hood, chunks of mephitic meat clung to the bent up metal edges of the bonnet where the scythes had pushed them up.

  The boy looked to his father, “Yeah, a stroke of genius that was dad, a stroke of bloody genius!”

  “Look,” he retorted, “Just because there are a few bits of bloody, fucking hell!”

  They had rounded the next corner to be confronted by a mass of infected bearing down on them, followed by what looked like hundreds of husks in their wake. They ploughed into them with a very similar effect as the last group, only this time the truck slowed considerably, and they found themselves stuck amidst the Husks slowly herding them along.

  “Where the fuck did all of these fuckers come from?” Caleb shouted over the noise of the revving engine. He was gunning it but getting nowhere fast.

  “They must have been following us,” the boy screamed, “what are we going to do dad?” the husks were all around them. Clawing and scratching at the windows, a hundred limbs desperately reaching towards them as the truck clambered over the fallen dead.

  “I think we killed most of the Infected when we hit them, but there may still be some out there. We will just keep pushing through till we can build up some speed and get clear.” At that moment there was a strong commotion in front of the vehicle, more than just the pushing of the truck against the mass of Husks. There seemed to be something moving toward them, something squeezing and crushing the husks between them. Caleb let a glimmer of hope enter his heart, was it another truck, someone coming to save them?

  All hope was lost when he realised what it actually was. It was the infected. Chewing, clawing and mauling their way over the husks. One of them made it through, looking Caleb dead in the eyes it started to climb over the bars at the front. He could see the putrid saliva dripping from its ragged mouth, the ravenous look in its pale grey eyes.

  It curled its b
are toes around the bars as it leaned forward, placing its hands on the bonnet looking right into Caleb’s eyes through the windscreen. It held itself there, shaking in anticipation, as the others started to crawl up the bonnet around it. The moment seemed to stretch before them; Caleb, Brandon and the infected, frozen in time while chaos and calamity ensued around them.

  Chapter

  3

  Flesh of Their Prey

  Frank had never had an easy time of it. He never made friends easily. He had always been the oddball. Not being the prettiest boy in town either, with his blonde curls which never wanted to sit quite right, slightly larger than average ears and wide, intense blue eyes. He was forever the outsider, and that suited him fine. He had enough friends living inside his head without adding outsiders to the mix.

  Over the years the voices had gotten him into all kinds of trouble. Giving him ideas, good ideas, they were always good ideas, even if the results they created were bad. No matter what happened they would give him praise, tell him the things he did were taking him somewhere special, it was all preparation for something else, something momentous.

  So he did their bidding, every command was met by unmitigated obedience. No matter how obscene or depraved. He was their slave, and they were his angels. Angels that would whisper long forgotten secrets into his mind. Telling him things no mortal man should know. They told him other people’s thoughts, their plans, their desires. The angels had full control of Frank; and it soon became that every aspect of his life was dominated by them.

  Of course Frank was mental, a complete fruit and nutcase. It was a miracle that he could function in society, as secluded and isolated as he made himself, he still interacted with members of the public when the angels told him to, and they told him to all too often. He was well known to the police in his area and to a good number of the locals of Houghton, a little town just north of Carlisle, but everyone saw him as no more than a nuisance. He had no criminal record to speak of and somehow, just before the end, he found himself in the T.A. No one quite understood how bad his case of schizophrenia had gotten, and not many of them got the chance to find out.