Dead Ahead

by Park, Grant

  They reached the top of a large hill and stopped to eat, deciding on some tinned foods so as to lighten the load for when they started down river, two tins of Heinz ravioli was served with hot dog chunks chopped up in it which Frank heated on the gas stove as Caleb showed Brandon some moves with his bladed staff, he left the sheath on for him so as not to cut himself but he was in no real danger as he picked it up fairly quickly. Caleb walked over to Frank, leaving the boy to practice.

  “Do you want me to show you a little hand to hand stuff, Frank?” Caleb asked, “While we have a little peace.”

  “Sure, why not?” Frank turned the gas down to a low simmer and stood up, moving to a cleared area he asked, “How would I get a Zombie off my back?” remembering the troubles he had back in the town.

  “HA! Well, if it was just a normal person and they were actually clinging to your back with hands and feet, like the Infected was on you, I would have just thrown myself on to my back and squashed them beneath me; but as it was an infected, that would put its teeth too close to you. What you did, with the spinning and turning was good, the centrifugal force kept its head well away from you, avoiding you from getting bitten; what you did wrong was you tried to use your gun. If you grab me from the back,” Caleb gestured for Frank to do so, which he did slowly, a little confused, “if I grab your thumbs like this, you can’t actually hold on to me.” Franks hands just peeled away from around Caleb’s neck, it was a revelation to him; he didn’t know that a man could be rendered impotent so easily.

  Caleb kept hold of Franks thumbs, holding his arms up in the air and turned beneath them to face him, spinning Frank around and sending him tripping over his own feet. Caleb let go of his thumbs and caught him as he fell, saving him from embarrassment.

  “Not sure how well this will work on a walking corpse, but if it doesn’t, at least you will have its thumbs!” Caleb joked as he helped Frank upright again, “You want to try it on me?”

  “Sure thing, Mate, but you will have to bear with me,” Frank turned his back and Caleb grabbed him over his shoulders, Frank fumbled for a bit until he found his thumbs and then pulled them away from him, the hands peeled away nicely and Frank spun round, Caleb just stood there facing him with crossed arms.

  “Martial arts is really all just about understanding your own body and how it works,” Caleb said as he slowly but forcefully pulled his ands apart, crossing Franks arms, “Once you understand the infinite capabilities of the human body, you can control it,” He rolled his hands around Frank’s and suddenly had hold of his thumbs again, “and once you can control it with precision and fluidity it will become the greatest tool you could ever hope to use,” Caleb gave a sharp jerk on Frank’s thumbs, bending them backwards, Frank dropped to one knee to avoid them breaking under the pressure, “Or the greatest weapon!” He said casually letting go of him.

  Caleb took a step back and put out a hand to help Frank get back to his feet, which frank graciously took. Caleb then took a few more steps away from him and took a fighting stance; Brandon walked up beside Frank to watch.

  “It’s about fluidity,” Caleb said as he began to move his arms in motions similar to Thai Chi, stepping around himself as if deflecting invisible people around him, “In the immortal words of Bruce Lee, ‘You must be like water; if you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup; if you put water into a teapot, it becomes the teapot; water can flow and water can crash,’” Caleb burst into a series of punches and spinning kicks, all seamlessly running into each other; he ended in a low crouch with one hand out in front of him, his finger pointed to the heavens, and the other by his head, ready to strike, “‘Be like water my friend.’”

  ‘The first of his army indeed...!’ “Are you a black belt or something?” Frank asked in awe.

  “Nah, I don’t do belts. Belts are too judgemental; everyone is always grading each other by their belts. I believe it should be about personal growth, you can’t judge a man by personal growth if you have no knowledge of from where he has grown.

  “How’s that food coming along? I’m starving?”

  As they sat down to their basic meal, Frank lost himself in his own thoughts; he dreamed of leading a great army of martial artists against hoards of the dead, grand battles like those in the olden days, where honour actually meant something. Was that what he was bringing to the world, honour...? The souls contained in the dead must be honourless, but then, if they are honourless why would they be going to heaven? Are they even going to heaven, or hell?

  Fear tore through Frank. Were the angels actually angels or were they demons? He thought back to all the things he had done in their name. If they are demons, what was he? Possessed? He began to panic.

  ‘It is not a sin to lack honour,’ the Angels whispered in his ear. He let the words wash over him, calming him. He was on the path of righteousness, he had nothing to fear.

  “You done there pal...?” Caleb asked.

  “OH, eh, yeah thanks!”

  Caleb took the pot that Frank had been eating out of and rinsed it out with some of the boiled water that they had brought with them; packing it back into a plastic bag and into his pack. “We had better be setting off; I’d like to get the raft in the water before it gets dark!”

  “Good plan, Mate.” Frank said composing himself, “Where we headed?”

  “We need to be getting down into that valley over there in the distance; that’s Long Sleddale, that’s where we will find The Sprint, that’s the best route to flow down river and merge with the River Kent.”

  “What’s The Sprint?”

  “It’s just what they call the river that flows through the valley!”

  “You sure it’s the best route?” Frank asked, puzzled, “here on the map it shows the Kentmere Reservoir flowing into the River Kent, just down there. Look! That’s it there, I’m sure of it!” frank could clearly see a body of water down in the south of the hills the light of the sun reflecting in it.

  “Naw, you’re right, Pal, the reservoir there does run into the River Kent but it thins the river out as it flows down the valley there, then further down another wee pool thins it out again. I did a thesis on the origins of the River Kent when I was in College doing Geography, stupid fucking assignment so it was, or so I thought at the time. But aye, though Longsleddale looks further we should get a better run once we get into the water.

  “Oh, righto...!” Frank said still slightly unconvinced, but a good General takes good advice from his soldiers.

  Caleb managed to get in the driver’s seat before Frank again, but he did manage to get in the front passenger seat before the boy. A General, of course, should be driven anyway.

  _________________________

  Frank pretty much pushed Brandon out of the way as he scrambled to get shotgun, Brandon didn’t really care either way; at least he wouldn’t have to join in on any of their inane conversations. His dad had started banging on about Bruce Lee again as they set off, Brandon had heard it all a thousand times before growing up; ‘be a teapot’ or whatever it was, Brandon wasn’t interested.

  They started rolling again, Brandon stared out at the rolling hills around them; the high peak to their left was a stark grey, dominating the blue skyline, the other hills blended from deep green to a pale blue grey as they melted into the horizon; it could have been so beautiful, if it wasn’t for the fog in his mind. He stared down at the hatchet in his hands, there was blood ingrained into the leather handle that would never come out, blood on his hands.

  What were they doing? Where were they going? Why did they even bother? It was all futile really; they didn’t have anything to live for anyway. Why did they have to keep on fighting? Where they fighting for survival or fighting so as not to become one of ‘them’? He had faced his own mortality just the day before and came out wanting; just wanting something to live for.

  A sudden pang of guilt hit him as he thought of all the people out there who hadn’t been lucky enough to have survived this far; hundreds of th
ousands of people throughout the world who had been torn apart by people who had been torn apart by people. The words circled his head like a carrousel, far longer than they should have, He caught himself mouthing them as his mind wandered, thinking of all things but still repeating the words ‘...torn apart by people who had been torn apart by people...’. Brandon looked between the front passenger seat and the door, into the left hand wing mirror, catching a glimpse of Frank’s face; his lips were moving too without making a sound.

  What was happening to them all...?

  Brandon had to mentally shake himself out of it. Yes the world had been torn apart, but his world had been torn apart before, and he was still here, if he can survive that then he can survive this.

  There must be more people, people who need help, people that he can help survive, people that can help him survive; His Dad and Frank couldn’t be all that was left in this world. Brandon would find them, and he would save them, and find somewhere for them to live, thrive and survive. That was his future. There was life after death, and it wasn’t being a fucking Zombie!

  “There she is!” Brandon’s Dad said as they crested the hill looking down into the long deep valley, “It doesn’t look like much but it’s going to take us where we need to be going.”

  Brandon could just make out the thin silver sliver of the river snaking its way down the bottom of the valley. Though the sky was still blue and clear, the sun was getting low to the west sending a dark shadow running down like thick black ink on the hills to the right, they wouldn’t have much time if they were to reach the river before dark.

  They descended into the valley with the renewed vigour of seeing their destination. The pathway was unfortunately not designed for vehicles and Brandon’s Dad almost tipped the truck several times as he tried to squeeze it along the thin track, as they rumbled down the crumbling slope they plunged into the shadow of the hill, which wasn’t nearly as dark as it had looked from above. Finally they made it to the bottom of the path and on to a rough road, smashing through a wooden fence in the process. The river which ran to their right hand side looked more like a stream, not nearly deep enough to take a boat, and far too many rocks to squeeze between. The constant rumbling and bouncing finally stopped as the dirt road gave way to tarmac.

  Brandon’s Dad managed to build up their speed, now that the road was smoother, and shove the truck into neutral, rolling them quietly down the valley in an attempt to escape the ears of the dead; but it only lasted so long before he had to shift back into gear and build up their speed again; the huge engine echoed through the valley, just as his father feared it would, alerting everything of their approach, dead and alive.

  As they weaved their way down, the river slowly grew wider, but unfortunately the day grew darker at the same time. They had to get into the river, and soon!

  ____________________________

  What in the world had he gotten himself in to?

  ‘I hope you’re not doing this because of a tidy little piece of fluff nearly half your age?’ Conner’s words rang through Ethan’s head, words only spoken to him the day before. But now here he was, leading a rag tag group of survivors across a barren wilderness, vehicles lost, small chance of survival and seven dead because of it, Conner included.

  As he crested the hill Ethan let out a relieved sigh, through the crooked branches of many thin trees ahead he saw the road that he had been looking for; it led to an R.S.P.B site, which was bound to have some kind of shelter for the night, probably not what the civvies would consider comfortable but it would be better than sleeping out in the night air. Their journey had been further and took longer than he had anticipated. Greg was really starting to get on his nerves with his constant complaining about the weight of his pack, it was only slightly heavier than the packs the women were carrying and they hadn’t complained at all; though Ethan was sure he had seen Jim taking more items out of Sarah’s pack and putting it in his own, still, it was no excuse for all of Greg’s whining.

  As soon as Greg’s foot hit the tarmac his pack did too, he then turned and sat on it.

  “You do know there are grenades in that pack, don’t you?” Ethan said to him, sending him flying into the air and scrambling away from the pack.

  “Grenades...? You had me carrying fucking grenades...? Well there is no fucking way I am carrying that pack again, no fucking way!” Ethan was already starting to regret his words, but fortunately Greg stormed off towards the lake just on the other side of the road after his rant; which in turn sent Sarah following him trying to calm him down.

  “I don’t think he really needed to know that, Ethan.” Cassie said through a blocked sounding nose; her pretty blue eyes had completely blackened and swollen up, and her nose was badly bruised, she still managed to look beautiful.

  “There aren’t really any grenades in there, Cass, I just wanted him to get up, and we really don’t have time to be resting right now!”

  “I know you want to get a push on, Ethan, but people like Greg respond much better to the carrot rather than the stick.”

  “The stick is all I have! If we can just get to the end of this road then we can rest, I wouldn’t want to be travelling in to the hills tonight anyway. Can you please ask him to put his pack on and make it to the end of the road?”

  “I’ll try.” Cassie said and walked off in the direction of Greg and Sarah who were now at the water’s edge.

  “Civvies, eh...?” Jim said once Cassie had made it out of hearing distance “Mind you, some Civvies.....” Ethan realised that they were both watching Cassie’s shapely rear end as she walked away, before Ethan could say anything, Jim said “I’m going to check out up the road back there, make sure nothing is going to creep up on us.”

  “Ok, Mate, I’ll check the way up ahead; don’t go anywhere I can’t see you though.”

  As he walked away, Ethan could feel himself calming down; he had always been happier on his own, people could be a real pain in the arse! He continued to check back over his shoulder on Jim and the others as he made his way by the spindly crooked trees either side of him; It didn’t look as if summer had really taken hold of the trees here, they were mostly bare of leaves with only a slight golden bushing at the tips of the limbs, the lake to his right was flat calm, almost like a millpond, a perfect reflection of the hills and blue sky beyond the far bank shimmered through the branches.

  He heard them before he saw them. The sad drone of confusion mixed with desperate hunger was all too familiar to him now; it was only a faint murmur in his ears at first but still it dropped him to his knees and into the grass verge. He crept forward, rifle raised; one eye looking down the scope, the other catching his peripherals. As he rounded the corner he saw them, a dozen or so milling around outside of a large building that had been built on top of a rise in the land on the opposite side of the road to the lake, The Haweswater Hotel was written on a large sign on the cutback stairs built into the huge wall surrounding the hotel; there were makeshift defences on a large slope leading up to the left, made out of cars picnic benches and other outdoor furniture, it seemed to be holding up well against the Second Gens who were bumping and scratching it, making no headway. Ethan could see movement at the top of the wall; there was a man attempting to throw a sofa down the stairs, presumably to stiffen his defences.

  Just then another figure came running round the lower side of the wall from the left, Ethan moved his scope back to his eye to see if it was another survivor, unfortunately it wasn’t. The First Gen covered the ground to the stairs all too quickly and leapt up them with an almost unnatural ability, before Ethan could train the scope on it; it was over the wall and on to the man above, both of them dropped down behind the wall and out of sight. Then Ethan heard the unmistakable sound of a chainsaw burring and then the sound shotgun blast echoing through the valley.

  He was up and running towards the hotel before he knew what he was doing, he had quite a distance to cover and not a lot of time to do it; his legs started to
burn, the hike over the hills had taken more out of them than he thought, all those weeks stuck in that bloody bunker didn’t help either. He dropped to a knee at around a hundred feet from the hotel and tried to steady his breathing to take a shot, the zombies must have heard him coming because they had turned and started their stiff legged march towards him. He dropped one with a shot to the chest, not what he was aiming for but it would do for now, the next two he caught with head shots but he had to move closer for quicker kills.

  Ethan broke into a fast jog towards them, rifle raised. As he grew closer he lifted the sight to his eye again and took aim, suddenly the zombies head exploded in his sights; the shot had come from behind him, Jim must have heard the shotgun blast and set up on the corner with his XM24 sniper rifle; Jim loved that rifle, he had got it from the Americans on his last tour of Afghanistan and could shoot a gnats balls off with it. Three more Zombies heads erupted as Ethan made for the steps, he took out a few himself as he worked his way forward but more of them came limping round the corner. Together they picked off the remaining zombies between Ethan and the steps and Ethan made a break for them, leaving Jim to pick off the others coming round the corner.

  He loped up the first flight of steps but had to scramble over various objects placed in his path to get up the second, including a sofa. When he got to the top he saw the remains of the First Gen strewn across the stone slabs of the hotel entrance, it had been cut to ribbons, arms and legs splattered across the ground and what Ethan thought must have once been its head splattered in a corner. The man who had been attacked was laid on the floor twitching violently; his thin blue shirt was torn and bloodied, a crimson pool was forming where his right hand used to be and the chainsaw was still purring and spluttering beside him.