Hellspawn (Book 6): Retribution Read online

  “You were misbehaving the whole time.”

  “Good point,” conceded Braiden with a huff. “Now look at us. One big, happy family.”

  “I always wanted a brother. Now I’ve got the most kick ass brother in England.”

  “Stop taking the piss.”

  “I mean it. I love you, bro.”

  “Shut up,” Braiden husked, furiously stabbing a baseball capped zombie to death. The fabric had moulded deeply into the scalp as the skin degenerated into dripping mucus, leaving a protuberant rim of wet, grey skin.

  Sam’s slingshot twanged again, the bearing bursting a sagging orb before punching through into the brain. Changing the subject, he said, “I like this.”

  “What? Killing the zombies?” Braiden replied, furtively wiping away the warm moisture on his cheek.

  “That and being outside. Where it’s not safe.”

  “It’s not that safe inside the castle if you hadn’t noticed.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  A reaching arm met a machete blade, the severed limb dropping to the floor. Braiden stepped in, stabbing it through the eyeball with his trusty screwdriver.

  “If we add a bit of meat to this it should give us a few minutes to get up into the attic,” he said, wiping the dripping shank on the creature’s shoulder.

  “We still need to work out what we do once we get out of here.”

  “Why not just run round and close the shutter?”

  “That’s not a bad idea. Are you volunteering?”

  “Fuck no,” Braiden spluttered.

  “I’ll do it,” chuckled Sam.

  “I was only kidding. We’ll do it together.”

  “Do you like it out here?”

  “It sure beats wall duty, I’ll say that much. Why do you keep talking about it?”

  “I was thinking of making a suggestion soon. You know we talked about it before but nothing’s been said since.”

  “About what?”

  “About Christina’s mum and dad. Going to find them.”

  “Dude, it’s too cold and too far.”

  “So you won’t come with me?”

  “We’ve got far more important things to be worried about, and she’d be the first to admit that.”

  “I just feel so guilty. We all have each other and she has no one.”

  “Most people don’t have anyone anymore.”

  “But most people haven’t helped to save our friend’s lives. I’d just like to bring her some good news.”

  “Besides, she kind of has DB,” offered Braiden.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Maybe in the new year, once it’s warmer. You heard the way she speaks about them, they’re survivors. Their home is out of the way and her dad knows all about bush craft. If anyone could make it through the winter safely, it’ll be them.”

  “I suppose.”

  “We’ll still make the suggestion and start to plan, ok?”

  “Yeah, ok. Here they come,” warned Sam.

  The outer barricade collapsed under the combined weight of the horde outside. Stumbling over the bodies, they couldn’t make great speed over the irregular patchwork of decay. Sam popped off three more shots and Braiden lanced brains with surgical precision from between the metal struts.

  “Let’s get moving,” Sam said, seeing the hefty stack begin to shift.

  “Right behind you.”

  In the pantry, the concerned face of Jonesy peered down at them.

  “What took you so long? I was getting worried.”

  “Sorry, dad,” Braiden teased and the soldier gave him the finger.

  An almighty crash of collapsing steel from the main hall signalled that their time was up. Flashing up the steel rungs like a monkey on amphetamines, both boys stared down from the darkness as the zombies staggered into view. Crowding into the small space, Braiden was taken back again to the classroom and the mad scramble for the equipment closet. People pushing and jostling in an effort to be away from the mummified husks and crimson horror that was once the receptionist.

  “Sam, over to you,” said Gloria.

  “Can I borrow your torch, please?”

  Handing it over, Sam scanned the unbroken black void. A small section around the perimeter of the vast space had been fitted with walking boards for safety, but the rest was bare joists and insulation.

  Sam considered the fact that most of the youngsters probably had no idea of construction in general and gave a warning. “Mind your step, whatever you do. If you step between the timber, you’ll drop straight into their arms.”

  The scared students bundled more closely together, keeping as far away from the edge as possible.

  “Everyone stay here while Braiden and I go and take a look.”

  Walking down the small gangway of dust and cobweb strewn walking boards, Sam would stop every few meters and tear at the waterproof felt. Pushing at the tiles, he didn’t want to dislodge, only get a better view. If the kiln fired coverings slipped, the noise would draw the monsters away from their desire to fill the pavilion, thus making their plan that much harder. Creating a letterbox sized opening, Sam observed the final zombies join the crush at the main entrance. A half circle of two hundred festering corpses, slowly marching into the building for a meal they would never get to eat.

  “We’ll try further down,” Sam said, lowering the cast clay back into place.

  Moving around the maintenance walkway, they didn’t immediately find an easy route. The roofline ended at the base of the steep pitch with plastic guttering on all four sides. Broken legs and arms would be almost guaranteed from the elevated drop.

  “Last chance,” Sam said, moving to the western roof trusses. Peeling back the black felt, he pushed at the tiles and looked out. A van was parked adjacent to a small, flat roofed structure which wasn’t part of the original hall. A quick hop onto the stone lined roof, then climb down the work vehicle and they would be home free.

  “This is it. Go and tell the others, mate.”

  Cutting a hefty hole in the membrane, he started to chip away at the small wooden noggins holding the ridge of each tile. Snapping the splintered wood, the tiles sagged inwards and he was able to twist them free.

  “What’s the plan?” asked Jonesy, seeing the growing pile of debris.

  “I’m going to make a hole big enough for people to get through. Braiden and I will drop down and seal the shutters once they’re all inside.”

  “I’m not sure I like the thought of you doing this. Your mum and dad will kill me.”

  “I have to agree,” added Gloria.

  “We’ll be fine. If we get in trouble we’ll just run back and get back on the roof.”

  “I’ll go with them,” offered Winston.

  “Now I really don’t like it. Three of our strongest putting themselves in danger,” Jonesy grumbled. The boys beamed at the unsolicited praise from the soldier.

  “We’ll be fine,” Braiden assured him, a warm glow blossoming inside his chest from the kind words.

  “Ok, but be careful.”

  “I’ll need you to give us the go signal if you don’t mind?” asked Sam.

  “Just tell me what I need to do.”

  Circling around the loft, Sam used the hilt of the machete to crack one of the tiles. Catching the pieces carefully, the daylight streamed in through the small opening.

  “When they’re all inside, give us a nod. Then we can hop down and seal them inside.”

  Moving away, Jonesy grabbed Sam by the arm. “Please be careful, mate. I don’t know what I’d do if we lost any of you.”

  “You made us fighters. We’ll be fine,” said Sam, confidently.

  Climbing through the carefully created trapdoor, the boys jumped the small gap to the outhouse. On one wall was a complex unit consisting of wires, copper pipes, and a fan inside a grey metal housing. Knowing no better, they assumed it was some kind of outside freezer for the kitchen. Watching the soldier, they were ready when he finally turned and g
ave them the signal to go. Hopping again onto the icy roof, they steadied themselves with the ladders which were lashed securely to the rack. Braiden climbed to the cab and sat down on the thin metal which buckled slightly under his weight. Sliding down, he used the windscreen wiper mounts to stop himself before dropping silently to the ground. Sam followed, then Winston. Groaning and crashing could be heard through the security shutters, loud enough to mask any approaching threat from the surrounding trees.

  “Keep your eyes open.”

  “Well I’m not likely to walk with them shut, am I?”

  Braiden turned to Winston and made a stabbing gesture.

  “Tough crowd.”

  Keeping low, they scanned every inch of the bordering woodland for movement. The road out of the communal grounds was clear of cars and zombies. They hoped that whatever was close enough to hear was already gathered inside. Sam took the lead, moving around the toppled scaffolding. One of the lids had come off of the paint pot, coating the ground in a dried mess of white gloss. For some reason, the sight bothered Sam. Who would make paint in the future? In the big scheme of the apocalypse it was a frivolous concern with so much death and destruction all around. As he stepped over the shiny blob, he realised what was bothering him. It was another thing to add to the list of ‘things lost forever to the zompoc’. Things like; phones, computers, internet, fast food, new movies.

  “Fucking zombies,” he muttered, quietly.

  “I’d rather not,” replied Winston. “Your brother might have a go, though.”

  Braiden waved the sticky blade in warning and Winston held up his hands.

  On the veranda, fifteen or more of the undead milled around. Either they were unable to get past the blockade, or had lost interest. Whatever the reason, they were standing directly in the way of the mission.

  “We do this fast and quiet. I don’t want to pull the others back outside,” said Sam, unsheathing his blade.

  Winston propped the hefty axe against the wooden building and withdrew his own machete. Braiden stuck with the screwdriver. Ducking below the low wall of the viewing deck, they reached the steps. A thick mucoid layer was coating the wood from the shoeless rotters. Pointing out the potentially dangerous slip hazard, the boys fanned out and carefully climbed the steps. Out of the group, six were wearing the remains of a school uniform. It seemed prophetic considering their recent thoughts. Maroon blazers were crusted with a darker brown, and white shirts were yellowed with juices of decomposition. Slashing and stabbing, the dead fell to the wood with dull crumps.

  Sam’s eyes met Braiden’s and they communicated without speaking. That’ll be all our friends too, it said.

  Winston poised by the open door, hearing movement as the first zombies came to investigate the commotion. Hacking down at the skulls as they stepped through, Sam and Braiden wrestled the corpses out of the doorway.

  “Now!” whispered Braiden, seeing the horde inside shift their attention fully back to the entrance.

  Winston clasped the lip of the steel and pulled. The raucous clattering of interlocking steel plates carried across the open field. Within seconds, hands started to claw at the metal on the other side, desperate to be free of their entombment and devour the living flesh only feet away.

  “That should do it,” said Sam.

  “We’ll need to be on guard. That clanging was quite loud.”

  “I think Anthony’s scream was louder,” replied Braiden.

  “You can’t blame him. It’s the first time they’ve been outside the walls properly.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’d prefer it if it was just us, you know, our family. Mum and dad, Peter and Jodi, they all know how to keep their shit together.”

  “Did you just call me family?” asked Winston.

  “No.”

  “You did. I heard you. Tell him, Sam.”

  “You did,” he agreed.

  “I meant everyone except for Winston.”

  Clutching his chest, the rapidly slimming youth stumbled back a pace in mock agony. “You’ve broken my heart, Mr Sullivan.”

  “That was cold, bro,” said Sam.

  “Give me a break,” he said, shaking his head. “What is it with you, anyway? What difference does it make how I feel?”

  “We’re all an only child, without anyone else. I thought it would be cool to have a brother or two,” Winston replied, ceasing the amateur dramatics.

  “Fucking hell!” Braiden groaned. “Ok, you’re a brother! Happy now?”

  “Only if you mean it.”

  “If I didn’t mean it I wouldn’t have said it. Now stop being a pussy and get moving.”

  “Ok, brother.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” Braiden moaned, heading back to the rear of the building.

  “All clear?” Gloria asked.

  “Locked up tight!” Sam confirmed.

  “Good work, boys,” said Jonesy, visibly relieved that they were safe.

  The students started to climb from the hole in the roof until Winston spoke up. “Wait there! We’ll get the ladders set up. It saves you risking a slip or a fall.”

  “Good idea, mate,” said Braiden.

  “Thanks, brother.”

  “You’ve heard of Cain and Abel?” Braiden asked, stroking the screwdriver.

  “Don’t worry,” Winston grinned. “I won’t kill you.”

  “Wanker,” Braiden replied, trying to hide a grin.

  “Mr Sullivan!” gasped Gloria.

  “He said weigh anchor, miss! We were talking about our favourite naval commands,” Winston added, manhandling the ladders into position.

  “In that case, I apologise. It must be my hearing starting to fail.”

  “Don’t worry, miss,” Winston replied, placing a foot on the lowest rung to steady the ladder. “It happens to ladies as they… mature.”

  “You mean get old?”

  “Well, I didn’t want to word it quite like that.”

  “You do remember I have a gun, don’t you?”

  “It’s hard to miss, miss.”

  “Then perhaps reminding a lady of her advancing birthday count isn’t good for one’s health.”

  Winston threw up his hands. “Honestly, between Braiden wanting to stab me and you wanting to shoot me, I should’ve taken my chance at the prison. At least I’d be appreciated.”

  “Yeah, for your pretty mouth, boy,” Braiden laughed.

  “Mr Sullivan! That’s quite enough of that!” Gloria admonished.

  “They wouldn’t be saying that inside the prison,” Winston moaned.

  “Ok, enough with the fellatio remarks, thank you,” said the teacher.

  “I know we were talking about the navy but what has Lord Admiral Nelson got to do with it?”

  “His name was Horatio. You know full well what I’m talking about,” said Gloria, trying not to smile.

  “Sorry, miss.”

  “Shall we burn it?” asked Pea, as the conversation returned to more serious matters.

  “Not right now. They can’t get out, and any fire would only bring more down on us. It could be worth torching it at some point, maybe when we’ve got the goods. That way it’ll provide a distraction while we get everything inside. Even if we don’t bother, they’re not going anywhere.”

  “Let’s make the call when it comes to it,” added Gloria.

  “Is everyone ready? We’ve got to cross the road, go through a farmyard, then over another street and we’re there.”

  The students confirmed that they were. A quick arrow count revealed that they were down to about thirty percent of the ammunition. Jonesy hoped that the next quarter mile would be uneventful as a protracted battle would leave them without options other than to use the guns. His suppressor was totally ineffective now, as was DB’s, which meant full volume with any gunfire. Another single shot might not be an issue, but a full magazine and beyond would easily eclipse the wailing alarms.

  The barrow carriers resumed their impression of human turtles. Jonesy surveyed
the surroundings one last time, finding nothing out of the ordinary. As the group moved away, the undead party inside the sports hall got underway.

  Chapter 18

  Jonesy led the way, guiding the students out into the main road leading south into Arundel. Signs of recent movement were in evidence. Maggots and worms writhed and died on the freezing cold road at their feet. Checking both ways for undead traffic in place of the more mundane vehicular kind, he ushered them across and through the gate of the farm.

  “I always wanted to live in a place like this,” said Pea, wistfully.

  “Getting up at four in the morning to work the fields? Sod that,” Braiden replied.

  “I think it’d be nice. Just think of the peace and quiet,” said Winston, eliciting a smile from the girl.

  “I’m thinking more of the going to bed at eight o’clock and being out in this freezing weather.”

  “All that fresh air,” Winston declared, drawing in a dramatic breath. “It’d do you the world of good.”

  “I’ll stick to warm castle air that stinks mildly of decomposing flesh. Thanks anyway.”

  “I think tending the fields with several million zombies wandering around may make the task somewhat difficult,” added Gloria.

  Winston shrugged. “I don’t know. If we could tie them up, they might make a passable plough horse.”

  “That’s not a bad idea. You could act as bait, walking around the field while they followed.”

  “I’ll run the idea by Sarah. It may be an option when we secure the farmland to the south of the castle.”

  “I wouldn’t. I think it’s best if we just destroy every last one of them.”

  “Yeah, I don’t want stuff to grow where those awful things have been wandering around,” balked Holly.

  Jonesy held up a fist and they all stopped and fell silent. They were in the first open yard. Under the massive corrugated steel canopies, hundreds of bails of polythene wrapped silage lay rotting. Tractors and other farm equipment sat beneath another. In the mud at their feet, the track marks of hundreds of zombies could be seen as clear as day.

  “They’re all headed towards town,” Winston whispered. “That’s a good thing, right?”