Mindless Trilogy (Book 3): Brutal Truths

by Oldham, S. P.

  A distant, irrelevant voice told her that it was not so long ago that she had been the feeble, terrified girl. Her mind showed her an image; she and Carson, exchanging heated words on the porch of a deserted house. Carson hadn’t really called her a coward, it was just the way she had taken his words…

  It hardly mattered anymore. The Thinker had almost closed the gap, was reaching out one huge, fearsome arm to grab at him.

  Lavender thought she should close her eyes, but she could not. Something told her the very least she could do was watch, that she owed Carson that much.

  Then the Thinker’s arm fell away, and the zombie came to a sudden and total standstill, much as if someone had shot a deadbolt into its temple.

  Lavender saw Naomi take this in. Credit to the girl, her response was to pull Carson forward harder and faster still, urging him on, out of reach. The zombie paid them no mind. It had raised its hands to its head, covering its ruined face with them, much like the container zombie had done. Lavender was keen to follow Carson and Naomi with her eyes, yet she couldn’t look away from the Thinker. She had a suspicion she knew what was to come next. It would not be a pretty sight, but she had to see it through.

  Its hands still clutched to its face, the Thinker dropped to its knees. As high up as she was, even Lavender heard the crack of bone as it landed. It exhaled; a long, sound as of a soughing wind. Lavender knew it would be tainted with the stench of corruption.

  The exhalation went on an unnaturally long time. When at last it stopped, the Thinker became as still as the grave; stiff and unmoving.

  It threw its hands in the air, its rotting face upturned to the sky, a high, shrill squeak of sound forced through its blue lips. Lavender was so startled by it, she almost lost balance, her heart pounding as she righted herself, clutching at the iron struts for stability.

  Later, she would swear that the skies darkened, that the air around the Thinker thickened and coagulated, a swirling mass of grey-black. She would swear, too, that those malformed lips, that hate-consumed face, uttered the word ‘forgive’ before the zombie set loose upon itself.

  Lavender watched for as long as she could, astounded at the brutality the creature unleashed upon its own ravaged body. She supposed it was anyway numb, as the undead all are; yet it flayed and grabbed, bit, clawed and hacked at its own skin right through to the bone. When it tore out a rib and held it up as if to inspect it, was when Lavender finally admitted defeat and turned away. She sat there, astride the relentlessly hard axle of the Ferris Wheel, the day growing darker and colder with each passing second. She screwed her eyes firmly shut, clamped her hands over her ears to block out the wet, sucking sounds of a body dismantled, and waited for it to be over.

  *

  She waited a long time after it was over, unwilling to face the carnage at ground level. The temperature was dropping fast now, the skies once again clouding over. She had hoped to move on further, putting more distance between herself and Joel. Now, she needed time and space to think.

  Climbing down the spoke to the carriage top was far more precarious than her hasty scramble up it. Her hands were becoming numb with cold, the metal near-painful to touch. She landed on the carriage roof with a graceless thud, sending it rocking beneath her feet.

  She wished she could climb to the topmost carriage. She would gladly trade a night being rocked and buffeted by the wind, for the security of being so far out of reach. Yet she knew the climb was beyond her; Carson couldn’t do it in his current condition. She wasn’t about to go anywhere he couldn’t follow.

  She dropped to the ground, her knees groaning at the impact of her landing. She stood still, listening. The place felt quiet enough. All she had to now was find Naomi and Carson, and then a place to spend the night.

  She was hesitant, the eerily abandoned amusements making her jumpy. In a deliberate attempt to avoid the gruesome mess that had once been a Thinker, Lavender began her search in the opposite direction.

  She was starting to despair of finding the others, when a sharp hissing sound caught her attention. She looked up, to see Naomi gesticulating to her from the top of a roughly conical building that used to be a helter-skelter. Lavender nodded acknowledgement. The steps up to the helter-skelter’s innards were nowhere to be seen, the entrance higher up off the ground than Lavender could reach. After trying and failing several times to jump up and grab the ledge, she stood back, panting. She wondered how Naomi had managed it; the girl was shorter still. Carson must have helped, she considered, hoping he was calmer now.

  She looked around for something to stand on. In the end, she had to settle for a hastily cobbled together pile of somewhat wobbly, non-descript debris. It lasted just long enough for her to grasp the ledge and pull herself up, before collapsing in an untidy heap. No matter: it had served its purpose.

  It was gloomy and dank inside the helter-skelter, with a heavily musty odour. She made her way up the rickety spiral steps, beginning the climb to the top. It wasn’t the most secure place maybe, but it would have to do. She’d known worse.

  Revelations

  Naomi cowered at the top of the steps, huddled under the hessian sack. She let out a sob when she laid eyes on Lavender, whose heart sank at the sight.

  “Where’s Carson?” Her voice was dull, flat in the small space.

  “I don’t know,” Naomi admitted in a small voice, “One second he was holding my hand, the next…” She shrugged defensively.

  Lavender closed her eyes, gave a heavy sigh, preparing to go back out and search for him before it grew dark. A sudden rattling on the roof made her snap her eyes open. It sounded like a host of spiteful little arrows landing. She crossed to the archway where eager kids used to settle on a rug at the top of the slide, ready for the twisting ride down. The nuts and bolts holding the spiral tube in place had loosened, leaving a six-inch gap between it and the wall of the helter-skelter. The only thing sliding down it now was a barrage of hailstones, each as large as a pebble. They bounced and ricocheted alarmingly. Lavender ducked back inside, the noise deafening under the roof. She looked at Naomi accusingly. The girl merely raised her eyebrows, her expression solemn; Lavender wasn’t going anywhere.

  This time, the hail didn’t let up. It was as if the sky was angry with the ground below and was determined to teach it a lesson. For an age, hailstones pummelled every exposed surface; a constant, furious drum beat. Weary with defeat, exhausted to the point of collapsing, Lavender sank to the rough wooden floorboards opposite Naomi. She slumped against the wall and closed her eyes, blocking out all thought of Carson and what might have become of him. Of its’ own accord, her mind sought and found a rhythm in the pounding hail. She fell asleep.

  *

  She woke shivering, instantly recognising something was different. It was quiet: the noise had stopped.

  A quick glance showed her Naomi was right where she had left her, breathing softly as she huddled beneath the hessian sack, still loaded with whatever plunder she had stolen.

  Lavender stood, rubbing her arms, wishing she had her blanket. She looked out of the archway to find the world a softer, paler place than when she had left it. A white blanket covered all. She marvelled at the fact that even this abandoned, ruined and ransacked fairground looked a little prettier in the snow.

  Remembering what lay hidden beneath it, that notion was soon dispelled. It wouldn’t make walking any easier either. Even as she watched, great fat flakes drifted slowly to the ground, like discarded angel feathers falling lazily from heaven.

  There was movement behind her as Naomi stretched stiffly, also waking.

  “What’s up?” the girl asked fearfully, seeing Lavender gazing out of the archway, hands on hips.

  “Nothing,” Lavender replied without turning around, “just a couple of inches of snow and the stuff still falling, that’s all,”

  In answer, Naomi stood and joined her, looking out onto the world. For a moment they both stood in silence, each lost
in their own thoughts. At last, Lavender looked down at the smaller girl, noticing for the first time the swelling in her lower lip and the livid bruise on her cheek.

  “Does it hurt?” she asked stupidly, knowing full well it did.

  “Does that?” the girl retorted, pointed to Lavender’s black eye.

  Lavender raised her hand to it in surprise. She had almost forgotten about it, the pain dulling to an ache that joined all the other agues and ailments her body endured these days. She shook her head honestly, “Not anymore,”

  Silence fell. Naomi suddenly reached out, scooping a handful of snow from the top of the slide. She moulded it into shape before holding it to her injured face.

  “At least it’s good for something,” she said, turning hopeful eyes on Lavender, “We can melt it too, for water,”

  Lavender nodded begrudgingly, “If we had the means, we could even boil it,” she said, a sudden longing for hot, sweet coffee making her heart swell.

  “Even better,” Naomi said, in a tone indicating she was saving the best for last, “We can follow Carson’s footsteps in it!”

  Lavender brightened immediately, her hands falling from her hips. She took a breath, almost caught up in the girl’s excitement, before reality crashed back in.

  “Chances are whatever footprints he left are already covered over, and this doesn’t show any signs of stopping yet. Besides, who’s to say any footsteps we follow are Carson’s? We could end up tailing a zombie. We could even end up walking smack into one! No, I like your thinking Naomi, but this snow is going to be more of a hindrance than a help, I think,”

  Naomi’s hopeful smile vanished. She had dropped the handful of snow, her fingers hurting with the cold, and was rubbing them against her jeans in the hopes of warming them up. As she rubbed, she inadvertently lifted her top, exposing her soft belly, revealing the fact that her button was undone, the zip barely reaching the top. It had been pinned in place to stop it falling.

  Naomi saw Lavender notice. She turned away, her body language suddenly defensive. Lavender felt a sick feeling rise in her stomach.

  “Jeans too tight? You must be the only person I’ve met so far who’s put on weight in the apocalypse,”

  Naomi gave a nervous laugh, “These jeans never fit me properly,”

  “Really?” Lavender chewed her lip, eyeing the girl shrewdly. Her back was still turned and she was hugging herself as if to keep warm. Lavender felt a rush of pity for her.

  “So, what’s the deal with you and Joel?”

  Naomi’s shoulders sagged, all her nervy movement stopping. She looked over her shoulder at Lavender, “You know, don’t you?”

  “I didn’t until just now,” Lavender admitted. She thought back over the last few days, when she had first laid eyes on Naomi. How the girl was always close to Joel; how she had been so timid she barely spoke a word.

  She looked the girl over. Clear, oval eyes a shade of sky blue, messy blonde hair falling to her ears, a crop cut long overdue a trim. She was petite, her frame even smaller than Lavender’s. Easy to see how any man could fall for her simple beauty, her innocent vulnerability and her youth.

  She remembered her dream, the night Joel had drugged Carson, “Was it you I heard, sobbing in the night?”

  Naomi looked away, embarrassed. Lavender took her gently by the shoulders and turned her back to face her, “Was it?”

  Naomi nodded her answer, looking down at her feet.

  “Did you want him? Joel, I mean? Was this something you wanted?”

  Naomi looked up, a sudden fierce look in her eye, “No!”

  “He forced you?”

  She saw from the set of the girl’s face that it was true.

  “More than once? In front of the others? Didn’t they do anything to help you?” Lavender felt her anger rising.

  “Not at first, no,” Naomi explained, “Remember the store room? The other place, where Joel stashed his stuff? Where I filled that from?” she gestured to the hessian sack on the floor, “It was in there, the first time. I tried to stop him, I told him no, but he wouldn’t listen. I think it took a while for the others to realise what was going on. Except for Evan,” she spat the boy’s name out with such contempt, Lavender was taken aback. It was hard to forget the image of the boy being devoured by the Thinker in the container. Lavender shuddered.

  “Evan?”

  “He walked in on us once. I thought he’d help me then, thought he’d step in, make Joel stop. Instead, he demanded Joel let him join in. I can still see the smile on Joel’s face when he realised he’d not only got away with it, he’d found an accomplice. The Thinker killed him, didn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Lavender said, seeing in her mind’s eye the creature digging its fingers into Evan’s arm, “Naomi, it was horrific…”

  “Good! I’m glad he’s dead! I just wish it had got Joel too!”

  Lavender nodded, saying nothing. She couldn’t blame the girl for her anger, or her bitterness. Between them, Joel and Evan had left her even more vulnerable in an already dangerously unpredictable world.

  “How far gone do you think you are?” she asked instead.

  Naomi shrugged, “Three months maybe,”

  Lavender nodded again, feeling helpless, “They never touched Yasmin?” she found herself asking.

  “If they did she never said. Joel always seemed a bit wary of Yasmin somehow. Maybe she just isn’t his type, if rapists have a type, that is,”

  A thought occurred to Lavender, “Naomi, how old are you?”

  “Fourteen,” barely a whisper.

  “Does he know about the baby?”

  “I haven’t told him,”

  “Good,” Lavender said absently, her mind racing, “that’s good.”

  “Oh God!” Naomi burst out, looking at Lavender in sudden fear, “What have I done? I should never have taken his stuff! He’ll come looking for me now, for sure!”

  Lavender recalled how possessive Joel had been of his belongings. Pointless to assure the girl he would do no such thing, because he very likely would; it was just as likely that he saw Naomi as one of his possessions, too. She didn’t mention that, unwilling to worry her further.

  “Let him come,” she said, her anger once more coming to the fore, “the son of a bitch is going to wish he’d never bothered by the time I’ve finished with him,”

  She had no idea what she was going to do or how she was going to do it, but she was determined to keep the girl safe from any further harm.

  Talking of which, where the hell was Carson?

  Come Out, Come Out, Wherever You Are…

  The one advantage the snow brought was that it made the encroaching night a great deal lighter than it otherwise would have been. That was it. Lavender was really feeling the cold now, certain that Naomi must be too. Once they found Carson, if they found him, the next order of business was to find somewhere not only safe, but warm; to lay up a while and lick their wounds.

  The snowfall had begun to thin out, though a wind was building up, swirling and eddying the flakes into small drifts. Lavender felt a sense of foreboding. If the snow began to fall heavily again and the wind continued to build, any hope of moving on would be seriously delayed. It would make escaping any further zombie attack far more difficult, too.

  She had taken the sack from Naomi, tying it around her neck like a bulky, cumbersome cape. It was uncomfortable, but it meant her hands were free, though at present they were shoved deep into her pockets, seeking out any warmth she could find. The girl was next to her, both of them keeping pace, eyes everywhere, wary.

  The weather had the unsettling effect of making Lavender think she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Whenever she turned to look at it head on, it was nothing more than snow, creating the illusion of motion. She wasn’t sure how much longer her nerves would stand up to all this.

  As if reading her thoughts and identifying with them, Naomi slipped a cold hand through
Lavender’s arm, hooking itself round her wrist where she had it tucked into her pocket. It was an innocent, unconscious gesture that brought a sudden lump to Lavender’s throat. If anyone else, other than Carson, had done it, she would have shaken them off with a sharp word or two. She felt a rush of pity for the girl, uncomfortably aware that she identified with her more than she would want to. Instead of shaking her loose, she let her cling there, each of them exchanging a little warmth where their skin met.

  “Where do you think he could be?” Naomi asked tentatively. She didn’t sound much like she wanted to find Carson. Given the fresh swelling on her face, Lavender couldn’t blame her. For the first time, the thought crossed her mind that she might be better off without him, too.

  Even the thought was a betrayal. Lavender forced it out of her mind. Angry with herself, her response was sharper than she meant it to be, “How do I know? I don’t know this place any better than you do! Just keep your wits about you!”

  Naomi looked hurt, but she didn’t relinquish her grip on Lavender’s wrist. They trudged on in silence a few steps more, until Lavender came to a stop, taking stock.

  The Ferris Wheel was behind them. The abomination that was the self-desecrated corpse of the Thinker was also behind them, slightly to their right. It was not yet fully hidden by the snow, enough of it still visible to make Lavender’s stomach turn. She had no intention of going that way; not for anything.

  To their left was a row of amusements, stalls and games, all ruined and robbed out. Directly in front was the shambles of a fairground that they had run through with barely a look when they were escaping the Thinker.

  Most of these were ruins, too. There was very little to offer cover, nothing solid or whole enough to act as any kind of defence. Lavender was stumped. She had no clue which direction Carson might have gone. Her heart sank. They had so many near misses in their time together. To think that she might finally have lost him in the ruins of a fairground, like a lost child on an especially unpleasant day out, broke her heart.