The Dead Don't Fear

by Shaun Whittington

  They continued to walk and at last words were spoken.

  “I’m getting tired already, chap,” Stephen moaned and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “And sweaty.”

  “We haven’t been walking long,” said Craig. “Don’t touch your water in your bag yet.”

  “Why, chap?”

  “Why do you think?” Craig responded, “Don’t touch it until you really need to. That’s all you have and I don’t have the ingredients to filter any more.”

  “Easier said than done.”

  “It’s all about will power.” Craig swapped his hockey stick to his left hand as his right was becoming clammy. “I’ve been two days without a drink when I was on the road. That was pretty brutal. I was hallucinating, my head thought it was about to explode with the pain, and then I managed to come across a water cooler in a solicitor’s office where I stayed the night.”

  “I’ve been lucky, chap,” Stephen admitted. “Being on the road is something I’ve never had to experience. Didn’t you come across any streams or lakes during those two days?”

  “I did.” Craig nodded. “But I had no jar and items to filter water, and I didn’t want to drink straight from a stream because that would cause vomiting and diarrhoea, leading to more dehydration. I probably would have died.”

  “I didn’t know what to do at the beginning. I had no idea about filtering water until the Sandy Lane lot turned up at our place at Colwyn.”

  “I just Googled it in the first week,” said Craig. “I knew the power was going to go eventually.”

  “I miss my phone,” Stephen remarked.

  “Wait.” Craig held his hand up and they both stopped walking.

  Ahead of them was a tight bend that went to the right. Rowley didn’t ask why he had stopped. He could hear the noise of scraping feet on tarmac. It was the unmistakeable sound of the dead.

  Craig had his hockey stick ready, grasping it with both hands, and Stephen pulled out his knife. Craig looked to his side and released a sigh. Stephen was physically shaking, and although Craig thought it was brave of him to be out, he was thinking that maybe Stephen Rowley, in a situation where many dead had to be slaughtered, would be about as useful as a concrete trampoline.

  They managed the bend and Stephen gasped when he clocked two dead, two females, staggering towards them from under ten yards away.

  “Um … chap?” Stephen tapped Craig on the shoulder, but Burns had already spotted them.

  “I see them,” he said. “We’ve been lucky. I thought we would have come across some of the dead earlier.”

  “Two Creepers is enough,” Rowley spoke and then gulped. “So how are we gonna do this?”

  “You take care of the one on the right and I’ll do the other one.”

  “Ready?” Craig asked his companion to the side of him. Craig never got a response from Stephen, so he asked him again.

  Stephen nodded, unconvincingly.

  The two remained where they were as the dead staggered towards them. Both men gasped as the one on the left suddenly dropped to the floor.

  “What the…?” Craig gasped.

  For a second the two males had no idea what was going on, and then they could see a young woman behind the dead, holding a baseball bat. She swung the bat to the side, making contact with the remaining dead, and as soon as it fell to the floor she turned her bat and penetrated its head. The bat had a spike on the end and it went right through its skull.

  Stephen and Craig gazed at the two dead and then at their slayer. She was a woman in her twenties, attractive, short dark hair. Her baseball bat was being held in her right hand, pointing to the ground, with a six-inch spike at the end that was a long nail with the end sharpened to a point.

  “Company at last,” she spoke, and didn’t seem fazed that she was face to face with two armed men. “Where are you two twats heading?”

  “Twats?” Craig’s eyes opened wide and half-laughed at the language that came out of the young woman’s mouth.

  Craig and Stephen looked at one another and Craig spoke further.

  “We’re ... we’re going to check out a farm.”

  She nodded and brazenly said, “Great stuff. I’ll keep you company.”

  Stephen and Craig looked at one another and were too shocked to respond.

  It looked like that they had company whether they liked it or not.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Pickle told the guys to hang back whilst he checked the door to the gatehouse. Karen had already been inside, but Pickle wanted to give it a more thorough search. He hoped that the keys to the prison van were inside. He stepped inside whilst Stephanie, Vince, Karen and David hung back, and had a look round the place. He looked at the wall, to his right, that had radios and cell keys that would be handed out and received in by officers starting and finishing a shift, and the control panel to the doors of the main building were in front of him. The rest of the doors to the three house blocks were controlled by Control, which was situated in a room upstairs, in the same building as the gatehouse, and had a team of eight people who controlled the doors and responded to officers’ requests for doors to be opened when need be.

  Pickle turned to his left and could see a mug of brown water. It smelt like coffee, very old coffee, and smiled as he saw the mug had: ‘Sex Instructor. First Lesson Free’ on it.

  “Very witty,” he mumbled.

  He turned one-eighty and could see keys and a fob on a ring and knew straightaway it was the keys to the van. “Well, Janine and Jamie,” he said, looking above as if someone was there. “This takes me back.”

  He put the keys into his pocket and exited the building.

  “Well?” Karen was the first to speak. “What the hell’s going on?”

  Pickle nodded over to the large vehicle and said, “I’ve got keys to that bad boy o’er there.”

  Karen smiled. “Just like the old days, eh?”

  “That’s what I was thinkin’.”

  Pickle opened the van and decided to check the back before everybody piled in. He stepped inside and checked each tiny holding cell.

  “What are we looking for?” Vince questioned with a smirk. “There won’t be any survivors in there.”

  “Just for peace o’ mind.” Once Pickle reached the end of the van and each holding cell had been checked, he turned to his companions and said, “Right, two o’ yer get in. I can only get three in the front.”

  “The two youngsters get in the back,” Vince piped up straightaway. “I’m not going in the back. I’ve seen this man drive. He’s like Ray Charles on acid.”

  “That doesn’t even make sense,” Karen huffed.

  “Anyway,” Pickle moaned. “The van’s clear. I’ll get in the back.”

  “It’s okay,” said Stephanie. “Me and David will get in the back. Won’t we?” She looked at David and he nodded.

  “Oh, yeah?” Vince giggled and sidestepped towards David and gave him a playful nudge. “I know what you two are up to. Going to have a crafty snog, eh?”

  “Ew.” Stephanie screwed her face in disgust.

  David kept quiet, but was slightly hurt by Stephanie’s reaction.

  “Anyway, it’s only a mile or so back to the hospital,” Stephanie said. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

  Tired of hanging about, Pickle released an impatient breath out and said, “Just get in.”

  Stephanie and David stepped in and Pickle shut the van door and locked it. Pickle got into the driver’s side and started the engine as Vince and Karen made themselves comfortable. He smiled as the gauge stated that the van was full and pulled away.

  “Well, Drake is gonna be pleased that we’re gonna be returning with this huge thing,” Pickle said.

  The van left the prison area and they were on the road back to the hospital. A member of the dead could be seen and Karen turned to see a smirk on Pickle’s face.

  “Really?” she sighed.

  “What would be the harm?”

&nbs
p; Pickle pressed the accelerator pedal down another half an inch and the van speeded up and hit the dead being. Its head exploded as the van hit it, and the rest of its body went under the wheels of the heavy vehicle.

  Pickle could feel the disapproving eyes of Karen Bradley gazing at him. “What is it?”

  “You’re a man in your forties,” Karen reminded him. “And you’re behaving like a teenager.”

  “Us men never grow up, Bradley,” Pickle chuckled. “The world’s in a shit state. Gotta have some fun sometime. Eh, Vince?”

  “Leave me out of this.” Vince gazed out of the window and watched the trees go by. “Anyway, you get immune to those things getting killed. It’s boring now.”

  “Ten minutes,” said Pickle, “and we’ll be there.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “So what the piss are you doing out here?” That was the first query from twenty-eight-year old Mildred Huxtetter. She had wasted no time being acquainted with the two men and was far from shy. She had been on her own for a while and she ached for company.

  “We’re on a scouting job,” Craig tried to explain. “We come from a camp in Stafford and we’re always after new people, providing they’re right for the community.”

  “Okay.” Mildred nodded. “So what do we do when we find this place? Just sit and watch if the people are decent or not?”

  “Um ... kind of.”

  “Hang on a minute,” Stephen Rowley interrupted the conversation between Craig and Mildred. He grunted and twisted his neck. “What’s this we business, chap?”

  “Chap?” Mildred scratched her dark hair and repeated her short query. “Chap? Do I look like I have a cock?”

  Craig cheekily hunched his shoulders, but Stephen tried to explain to the young woman. “Craig and I don’t even know you,” he said.

  “I’m Mildred,” she huffed. “And you two are…?”

  “Stephen.” Rowley placed his hand on his chest and then pointed at Burns. “And this is Craig.”

  “Great,” she said with sarcasm and asked Stephen. “Happy now?”

  “Um…”

  Mildred huffed and said, “You have something else to say, Steve?”

  “Stephen,” he corrected. “Like I said before, Craig and I don’t even know you,” he said. “Where are you from?”

  “Don’t matter about that,” said Mildred. “We’ll check out this farmhouse and then I’ll get to meet the guy that runs this place of yours that you were talking about earlier.”

  Stephen twisted his neck. “But...”

  “You know what, Mildred?” Craig intervened and turned to Stephen and gave him a wink. “I like you. You’re streetwise, and I reckon you have some horrific tales to tell us on how you survived. I think Drake will like you as well, our leader.”

  “Cheers, Craig,” said Mildred and flashed him a cute smile. “What’s up with your twitchy friend? His attitude is starting to boil my piss already.”

  Craig let out a belly laugh and Stephen flushed red with anger and embarrassment.

  “Let’s just get to the farmhouse and see what happens,” Craig said with a snicker. “I think we should take watch for a few hours, and if nothing happens we should approach the people and have a chat with whoever is inside, if anyone is inside.”

  “Bit risky, Craigy Boy,” Mildred spoke up.

  Craig smiled at her response. Her ‘Craigy Boy’ comment reminded him of the young woman called Yoler who he had met in Milford. He had met her on a scouting mission that was pretty disastrous to say the least.

  “It is a bit risky,” said Craig, agreeing with Mildred. “I just want to know how many people are inside before chapping their door. If we go straight up to the door now and find out there are twelve bikers...”

  “Okay, fair enough.” She nodded in agreement and then turned to a quiet Stephen Rowley. He looked unhappy and was not pleased with the sudden arrival of the young woman. She then turned to Craig and asked him, “What’s up with your chubby friend? He looks like someone has just shat in his scrambled eggs.”

  Craig bit his bottom lip in an attempt to stifle a laugh and turned to see Stephen raging. Mildred never received an answer.

  The farmhouse could be seen from a distance and Craig told them that they should get nearer, possibly hide behind the large barn or shed that was twenty yards from the house. He wished he came here earlier, first thing, to give him more time and daylight, instead of wasting hours on the hospital run to Stoke.

  All three climbed over the four-foot fence and crept through the long grass. They got to the barn and all relaxed once they were behind it and hidden from prying eyes from the house.

  “Now what, chap?” Rowley asked.

  “Wait for a while,” Craig said. “I don’t wanna be going straight in and getting my head blown off or getting hacked to pieces by paranoid survivors.”

  “That’s fair enough.” Mildred nodded in agreement. “I went into a house a while back and some guy jumped out on me. I thought he was going to rape me.”

  “What did you do?”

  Mildred shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, as if what she was about to say was nothing, and said, holding up her bat, “I beat him to death with this.”

  “A bit harsh,” Rowley spoke up.

  “We live in a harsh world, Stevie Boy.”

  “Again, it’s Stephen,” he huffed.

  “If any man wants to force his ding-a-ling in my fairy cave, he’s gonna get the bat. Simples.”

  There was a silence for a minute, and Craig was pleased that his ears had been given a rest from their slight bickering.

  The three of them were lying at the side of the barn in the long grass, all on their bellies, and they gazed at the farmhouse for a while, but there was no sign of life. Mildred huffed impatiently, turned around and lay on her back and put her hands behind the back of her head, as if she was sunbathing.

  “If this is boring you,” an annoyed Stephen grunted, “then feel free to be on your way, chap.”

  “Chap?” Mildred laughed. “Stop calling me that. In case you hadn’t noticed, chubs, I have a pair of tits.”

  “Oh, give me strength,” Craig moaned.

  Stephen huffed, “I think you should move on.”

  “She’s coming back with us,” Craig told Stephen. “Just ... the pair of you be quiet. I know this is boring, but we can’t just go in there.”

  “I don’t think anyone is inside,” Mildred said with confidence.

  “You don’t know that for sure,” Craig said.

  “I’m telling you now.” Mildred was still on her back with her hands behind her head. “I’ll go over there myself, right now. If there’re no humans inside, I come back to Stafford with you.”

  “And if there is?” Rowley spoke up, thinking that he knew the answer anyway.

  “If there is, and I don’t get caught, then I keep on walking.”

  “Done,” said Stephen.

  “Wait a minute.” Craig sat up as Mildred got to her feet. “I didn’t agree to anything.”

  “Be back in a bit,” said Mildred as she brushed herself down.

  She took her bat and walked to the farmhouse, heading for the main door. Stephen didn’t like her, but he did think she was brave for what she was doing ... and a little mad.

  Craig was curious and flashed Stephen a hard stare, but Stephen ignored it and prayed that there were people inside, but wished no harm on the young woman.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The large prison van approached the hospital and went by some concerned faces as they went by them, including Peter and Roger, who were guarding outside of the wall. The passenger window went down and Karen stuck her head out, making Peter and Roger breathe out a sigh of relief.

  The welcoming they got once the van reached the entrance of the hospital was predictably frosty. Nobody knew who they were.

  Pickle parked up the van and he told Karen to keep her head in and see how they reacted. He was in a jovial mood and with him ru
nning down the Snatcher earlier, Karen didn’t understand why he was behaving so childish.

  She huffed and petulantly folded her arms.

  To the side of her was Vince, and he gave her a quick nudge and said, “Just let him have his fun.”

  “Fine,” she huffed. “But I’m bursting for a piss.”

  The guard watched in aghast as the prison van approached the barrier with blood over the bonnet from where Pickle had ran the Snatcher down. The guard on the gate looked nervous and pulled out a walkie-talkie and spoke into it. Seconds later, seven more guards turned up, two of them with shotguns, and Drake appeared out of the reception area. All of the people that were present on the hospital grounds looked tetchy. They knew that a van of that size could ram through the gate with little fuss.

  Pickle wound down the driver’s window and stuck his head out. “Just checking if yer lot are still sharp.”

  The guards, as well as Drake, breathed out a sigh of relief, and the man on the main gate looked furious with Pickle.

  “You bastard!” Drake laughed and told the guard to open the gate, whilst the other now relieved guards lowered their weapons and slowly headed back to their posts once Drake told them to go. “I nearly shat a brick.”

  “Just testing how efficient yer guys are,” Pickle laughed.

  “And?”

  “Not bad, considering yer don’t do dummy runs for this kind o’ shit. I’m impressed.”

  “Well, maybe we should start doing so.”

  The gate opened and Pickle sarcastically saluted the annoyed guard as he slowly drove by. The van parked up and Drake stood outside, waiting for Pickle to get out.

  Branston jumped out and said, “Like the new wheels?”

  “I do.” Drake nodded with a smile. “An armoured vehicle. We could use it for runs and even use it as a main barrier to block the entrance instead of using that flimsy fence. I’ll have to think about it.”