by Park, Grant
‘NOW!’
Franks eyes snapped open, he pulled a grenade from his coat pocket, pulled the pin and dropped it into the mass of creatures on the road beneath him, he then leapt backwards from the battlements back onto the roof of the gate house and made his way to above the inner gate, he dropped a second grenade just as the first one was exploding, sending a mass of ragged body parts flying through the air, the second grenade blew the steel gates holding the dead souls wide open, destroying many of them in the process.
It had the desired effect, a flood of dead burst through the opening fanning out as they came. Frank could see movement throughout the castle reacting to the explosions; soldiers came from every orifice of their precious castle, he could hear screaming and shouting as some of the dead started running towards them. He took a deep breath and drank it all in, the chaos, the turmoil, fires burned, gunshots echoed from every corner of the castle, he had created this, and he had the power in his hands to end it. He crouched down at the battlements and brought the night vision scope up to his eye, he scanned the crowd, watching it all unfold in front of him, enjoying the warm pulse of adrenaline flowing through his vanes as he watched the soldiers kill and inevitably die themselves. Then a familiar face popped into view from a doorway, it was his Lance Corporal, ‘here is one of your precious bullets.’ Frank thought to himself as he squeezed the trigger and blew the out the back of the Lance Corporal’s head.
Frank was content to watch as the other soldiers were torn to pieces by the murderous horde, he watched as a man was set upon by three of the returned, he was still alive as they tore the jaw from his face and dived greedily into his belly, ‘that one had always been too fat anyway.’ he thought.
The more experienced soldiers put up a good united front at the entrance to the castle proper, using the walls of their elevated position in front of the gate to defend themselves and copious grenades to defend against their open left flank. That was when Frank decided to intervene; he first took out a couple of the soldiers who were taking pot shots at the horde but soon he spotted the bag in which the grenades were being stored, the soldiers were huddled around the bag now, aware that someone must be shooting at them, just at the moment they seemed about to turn and run through the castle gate, Frank squeezed the trigger.
He had never seen anything so beautiful in his life before, time seemed to slip into slow motion, he squeezed the trigger and opened his other eye just in time to see his work take shape. At first a small ball of light appeared between the soldiers that spread outwards in a bright circle lighting behind them, it put them into perfect silhouette just before engulfing them in flame and tearing their bodies to pieces, arms and legs somersaulting in all directions, spraying claret blood into the already rich tapestry of colours before him, it was like a majestic flower of light, blooming and dying before him, at that moment Frank felt truly godlike.
He stood from his hiding place and dropped the rifle, he bent down and picked up the M60 machine gun at his side, opened the bipod and sat it on the battlements, he surveyed the sea of dead flesh before him flooding still through the gates beneath his feet, through every crevice of the castle, a sea of souls waiting to be sent to heaven, it was time to start the reaping.
By the time frank had run out of ammo for the M60, the box of grenades he had brought up to the rooftop and all the rounds for his sniper rifle with the night scope, it was starting to get light, in the light of the day he could truly see devastation brought by his hand, there was a river of blood running through the entrance tunnel and out of the castle onto what was once lush green grass surrounding the great monument to Carlisle’s past, it had now been churned to a muddy mess by a thousand shuffling feet and still more were heading towards it. He could still hear shots and screams coming from the buildings surrounding the interior of the castle, but he didn’t care any more, his angels were pacified and his life was now his again to do with what he will.
He made his way carefully along the top of the wall to the west till he got to the corner and turned to the north; again, carefully he made his way along the crumbling wall top till he got to the mid turret where he had stashed all the makings of his escape, an SA80 rifle, a semi auto pistol, plenty of ammo for both, plenty of grenades, plenty of rations, extra clothing, camping stove with mess tins for cooking and a good sturdy rope to clamber down the wall with.
He was tired, no, tired wasn’t the word, he was exhausted, but he had to get away from this open grave of his own creation. He tied the rope securely, slung on the pack, holstered the pistol, put the strap of the rifle round his neck and worked his way over the edge, he was almost clear of the top when his foot slipped and he lost his grip on the rope. Frank fell for what seemed forever till he smacked face first into the dirt below the wall, he tried desperately to focus on the trees and grass sloping quickly away form him but he could feel the walls of his vision closing in around him, his head swam in circles and everything slipped slowly into black.
It was the dead of night when Frank awoke, his was head pounding and he felt as if someone was sitting on top of him, pinning his chest to the ground, then it all came flooding back, the explosions, the gunfire, the killing and the dead. ‘Oh my angels, the dead, how could I forget the dead?’ Frank thought to himself. He tried to get up but the weight of his backpack was still too much so he rolled to the side and wriggled free from the dead weight, slowly he crouched beside it and gathered his bearings.
He desperately tried to shake the dullness from his mind, he needed to be alert. He was beneath the mid turret on the west wall of the castle, which was where he had made his daring escape. Frank had to picture the map of the area in his mind; he dared not use a torch to look at the map in his pack in fear of attracting the dead. The west wall had a road running parallel to it which led to large open playing fields behind the castle: from there he could either cut to the left and cross the railway bridge across the river or head over the playing fields to a footbridge leading past some kind of sports centre. After that he had no idea where he would be heading, he had planned on relying mostly on daylight, and the ability to avoid the dead that it brings, to aid his escape.
Frank huddled round his knees shutting out all sight of his cheap Casio watch as he dared to illuminate the screen, 1:23 am, it was just as he feared, he still had hours of night before him. He wished he was still sleeping in his comatose state, blissfully unaware of the horrors around him and with a face full of dirt.
‘How the mighty have fallen.’ Frank started at the sudden voice of the angels. He wanted to crawl to the walls behind him and cower there from the world until the morning came.
“Please, my angels, what should I do?” he whispered almost silently to them.
‘Godlike you told us. How the mighty have fallen.’ the angels started to laugh at him, a wild manic laugh that seemed to be all around him echoing off of the tall stone walls, shaking the trees around him. Frank then realised that it was he himself that was cackling blindly into the night and cut himself off with a strangled choking noise.
He sat for a moment listening intently at the dark before him, pleading within himself not to hear the moaning of the dead, but all he could hear was the beating of his own thumping heart in his ears.
He slung his pack onto his shoulders and made for the road. Shuffling through the bushes he made it to the top of a wall which dropped to the road, he could now see it was another bright moonlit night once he was clear of the trees and could see clearly in both directions. To his relief the road was empty and he gently lowered himself down.
The playing fields were only a hundred metres away at most and he reached them quickly, but once there he was reluctant to cross such an open space in such bright moonlight, so he skirted the edges keeping just within the shadows of the trees and headed up towards the footbridge which he deemed would be the safest route as it would keep the river to one side of him giving him an easy escape should things get difficult. He didn’t know if the dead could
swim, they could no doubt float, but he was betting he could outpace them in any case.
As he approached the footbridge he became aware of a shuffling noise behind him which stopped him in his tracks, making him reach for his rifle, he cursed himself for leaving the night vision scope on the roof, so much so that a thought of returning for it crossed his mind briefly but was equally as quickly dismissed.
Frank dropped to a knee and aimed his rifle into the darkness. The scuffing noise was growing louder, Frank waited patiently, SShhhffft, SShhhffft, it grew louder still, and then suddenly frank caught the glint of moonlight catching a bald head bobbing towards him, it was an old man, the corpse of an old man, with white wispy hair flowing from above his ears; he was as most of the slow moving ones were, mostly eaten away, but this old fellow had managed to keep hold of his tattered brown cardigan through it all.
Frank slung his rifle and pulled a large hunting knife from his belt, it was then that he realised what was making the scuffing noise, the old geezer had a lead wrapped around his wrist and was dragging the mangy maggot infected carcass of his dog behind him. Frank took a step towards the old man, intent of disposing of him before he made any more noise, but then he stopped, the old man wasn’t making any noise, he was walking silently on the grass while it was the dragging of the dog made all the noise.
Frank broke his focus on the old man and looked further behind him, he could now see all the other dead shambling towards him on the grass, he panned round, they were everywhere, there was no escape, not without making a hell of a lot of noise. He sheathed the knife, reached for the rifle, turned on his heel and fled toward the bridge, right into a mass of the undead.
Gunfire shattered the peace of the night and lit up a hundred faces of the undead as his bullets tore through their flesh. Frank struggled his way to the bridge but got stuck in the middle, desperately firing in both directions till his rifle clicked empty and he had no choice but to throw himself over the side.
Frank was expecting a loud splash and the shocking cold of deep river water, all he received was a loud crack and a light sploosh as he hit a large bed of loose rocks below the bridge. He had no time to assess the condition of his body after yet another bad fall; the dead would soon be upon him, so he splashed his way down the river and up the bank on the other side whilst reloading the rifle.
On the other side he found himself up against yet another army of the undead bearing down on him from his right, the others spilling from the direction of the bridge on his left, and right between them he saw a white transit van parked with the back doors open. Frank made his move and ran as fast as he could towards the van; with seconds to spare he made it, pulling one of the doors closed as he leapt inside and the other shortly after, he then scrambled through the cluttered van and over the drivers seat to lock the doors.
Frank allowed himself a brief respite to calm him, but the moaning and banging around the van was only getting louder, he took off his pack and climbed onto the drivers’ seat reaching delicately for the ignition.
Frank thanked the Angels when he felt the cold plastic and steel of the keys between his fingers, he turned the ignition and the engine begrudgingly spluttered into life. As he flicked on the lights a sports centre was visible beyond the sea of haggard faces in front of him. Frank thumped the gearstick into first and revved the engine.
He was relentless as he mowed down as many of the dead as he possibly could in his escape, he didn’t care for the noise he was making, and he didn’t care for the other dead it would bring. ‘I am the harbinger of death for the dead, let them all hear my call.’ he thought to himself as he rumbled over a few more corpses and headed off away from the sports centre, into the east.
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Caleb spent half the night trying to decide the best plan to escape from their new best friend, Frank, and the other half trying to decide if heading to Kendal was a good idea. If it was a good idea: then how best to get there. He wasn’t sure why, but he had an overwhelming desire to go home. Though he had spent most of his youth in various Scottish towns; during his twenties he had lived with his parents in their house in the outskirts of Kendal. That was where he thought of as home, if he could just get back to his parents then everything would be alright.
He woke the boy early, he was unsure of exactly how early, but checking through a gap in the boards covering the window it wasn’t yet light outside, so it was early enough. Shining a torch round the room he signalled for them to silently start packing their things to leave. They had been allowed the back room to sleep in while Frank was happy to sleep in the main hall. Caleb was quite sure that he trusted them just as much as they trusted him. He was just the wrong type of person to be around during the whole world going mad, but more than likely the only type of person left that wasn’t trying to eat them. Caleb took a few moments to question his own sanity while quietly packing his things but, as always, he pushed it to the back of his mind.
Once packed, Caleb quietly led Brandon through to the main hall, he set the torch to its minimum setting, lighting only a few of the L.E.D. bulbs in the centre, and scanned the room, sweeping the dim beam across the hall till it met a figure sat in a brown plastic moulded chair in front of them.
“Early bird catches the worm, that’s what I always say!” Frank lifted the rifle off of his lap and rose from the chair, he slung the rifle over his shoulder and dug his hands into a box on the table to his right, and he quickly threw a breakfast bar at each of them. “If we’re gonna make it to Kendal we had better use all the light we have, I figure it will take us a couple of days at least at a quick march, I don’t know about you two but I don’t fancy trying to make it in a set of wheels and attracting more of them biters again.
“If we head off across the fields behind here and keep clear of the roads we may be able to get as far as Keswick today.” He slung his pack over his other shoulder and headed for the exit, sitting the rifle beside the door he put his pack on properly, he slid the bolts to the side and creaked the door open.
It was still dark out but you could see signs or dawn approaching. Frank picked up his rifle and a few other things from the table putting them in various pockets of his coat and stepped outside, he scanned his surroundings, then spent a few seconds just staring up into the sky before heading off round the corner to the left.
Caleb was still dumbfounded as Frank exited; he caught himself still staring with his torch pointed at the door, slowly he turned to Brandon, who had a puzzled look on his face, and said, “Shall we?”
“Yeah,” the boy replied, “but not before I stuff my pockets with more of these!” he waved the open, half eaten breakfast bar in front of him and headed for the box on the table, Caleb looked down at the chocolate chip oat bar in his hand, raised an eyebrow and headed on over to the table himself.
Once round the back of the building the three of them hid behind the back walls and peered over the fields before them, to their right they could still see the backs of the houses of Blencogo but Frank assured them that they were mostly empty and any of the ‘biters’ in the surrounding area would have headed in the direction of the exploding truck he had set forth yesterday.
So they themselves set forth. What started as a crouched scuttle across dew covered open fields quickly became a leisurely stroll through the sunlit countryside, each hedge bordering the next field would be hidden behind as the coast was made clear and only a few random husks were encountered, most of which were tangled in the barb wire of the fences and so left to rot. Caleb even found himself growing accustomed to Frank’s strangeness and his referring to himself as ‘us’ and ‘we’, he could almost think that he could grow to like the man, though he was not sure he could ever trust him, but for now they were stuck with him, and so pressed on through the brightening day.
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The very same morning, across the other side of the country, a mass of the undead were shambling and bumping off of each other despera
tely trying to reach the location of the horrific noise that was rattling around what was left of their ears, the great hoard of husks was slowly gaining ground on the thousands of much faster moving infected who were swarming around the old farm on the outskirts of Darlington.
Unfortunately the computer analyst, Greg Woodward, had greatly underestimated the carrying distance of the external alert siren. Due to the silence of this quiet earth, devoid of all the bustle of modern life and all the noise and chaos contained within it, the wailing siren, similar to those used throughout the second world war, could be heard far beyond Darlington its self, thousands of undead were bearing down upon the underground facility, little to the knowledge of its inhabitants.
Cassie peeked her head round the corner to check that the coast was clear down the next hallway and waved for her group to advance. First came Dr Brian Phillips and Dr Carol Blake, then round the corner came the wild flowing red hair of Dr Sarah Carson who stopped at the other side of the hall to assist the ageing Drs Richard Cooper and Nathan Stewart and swiftly she moved on with them, Dr Dominic Brady, a short middle aged man with blonde hair pushed past Greg Woodward as he rounded the corner, Dominic had been less than impressed by the idea of leaving the compound than anyone else but given the choice of staying with the soldiers he reluctantly agreed to join them. Cassie swiftly checked down the corridor they had come from and disappeared round the corner herself, she quickly caught up with some of the older scientists as she jogged towards the door to the loading bay. She signalled to Brian to go on through the door as he looked back to check on her and they all filed through.