Hellspawn (Book 6): Retribution Read online

  “What should we do, boss?” Max begged.

  Matt stared into the eyes of the stranger. They gave away nothing. Judging by their accents and look, they were Gypsies, but why the hell had they attacked? There were one or two travellers locked up in the prison with them, for goodness sake. Opting to ride this out and see what the beef was, he gave the only logical order.

  “We do as he says. These pieces of shit are too slow to turn around, and they’ll pick us off easily from the bridge like they did Andrew.”

  “What do they want?”

  “Fuck knows. Whatever it is, it ain’t good. We’ll look for a way out when we’re not sitting ducks.”

  “I’ll follow your lead, boss.”

  One by one they reluctantly accelerated and hit the thin ice. Crunching through, the sharp prows couldn’t make it far through the frozen mud and the boats toppled to the side as the weight shifted. Pulling the wires apart before they jumped out, the engines died, leaving only silence. In the distance, the damaged engine of Andrew’s craft revved high and then popped, a burst of flame filling the boat. Surprised at the lack of a dramatic explosion, Matt watched the blaze spread rapidly to the plastic and sponge padding of the seats. The smell of burning flesh and carbon fibre flowed down to them, smoke darkening and growing thicker by the second. The armed guards shifted position to avoid the toxic cloud and moved down the river’s edge towards their prisoners.

  “Everyone get up here and get on your knees.”

  “Fuck off!” barked Terry.

  A crack from a shotgun peppered the ground at his feet, causing him to yelp in terror.

  “Last warning! I don’t want to kill any more of you.”

  “Terry, just do as he fucking says!” growled Matt.

  “Good man.”

  “Look, whatever this is, you don’t need all of us. Take me and let my friends go.”

  “No. Mrs Hampton wants all of you.”

  “Who’s Mrs Hampton?”

  “My aunt. She wants a quick chat. Now get your arses up here or the next shot doesn’t miss!”

  Matt ground his teeth and pushed the anger deep into the pit of his stomach. The time would come to let it loose, but walking up a steep incline towards twenty gun toting Gypsies wasn’t it. Something just didn’t add up. These people looked furious, beyond furious in fact, they looked positively murderous.

  “What’s this all about?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough, big man. Don’t worry.”

  **********

  After a brief, pointless period of brinkmanship and argument, the prisoners were once again prisoners. Police issue handcuffs had been secured behind their backs and then tied together with a length of rope. It all seemed rather pointless considering the sheer amount of weaponry on display. Matt and his men wouldn’t have made it ten paces before being cut down in a hailstorm of bullets and buckshot.

  “I’m Matt Hay.”

  “So?” replied the big Gypsy.

  “Just thought I’d introduce myself.”

  “No one cares who you are, just keep walking,” he grumbled, nodding at the man who give him a sharp prod with a rifle barrel.

  Wincing inwardly from the painful thrust, Matt refused to show the pain. Instead, he turned to the lank haired man and growled, “You touch me with that thing again and I’ll shove it up your arse.”

  Flipping the gun, he was about to deliver a wooden stock across the face until the big man waved him off. “It’s not really time for the hard man act. I know you’re all dangerous. We’re all dangerous. Anyone that’s alive still is dangerous. It doesn’t impress anyone.”

  “If you could just tell me what the issue is, I know we can get this sorted.”

  “Mrs Hampton will explain everything once we reach the camp.”

  “How far is it?”

  “Only a few miles. Now keep your mouth shut and walk.”

  With each passing step, Matt’s dread grew. The Scottish firm he had worked for did deals with the Gypsies for firearms delivered from the US to their connections in the IRA. High quality narcotics were also freely available from source at reasonable prices, but Matt had never got involved in that shit. Robbing institutions that were well placed to suffer the financial hit was his specialty. For their part, Matt’s firm were always on the level with the Irish. Another rival criminal enterprise had tried to screw the travellers once, and they had all disappeared. It was a valuable lesson in their shady business. The Gypsies were utterly ruthless in protecting their own, and settling scores. It was why the fearless Scot had a really bad feeling about this kidnap. The unbridled hostility emanating from each man was palpable, as if they’d personally taken a massive shit on their breakfast.

  “I’d still like to know what we’ve done,” said Matt.

  “And I’d like you to shut the fuck up.”

  “Where did you get these from?” Matt asked, changing tack and shaking the handcuffs.

  “Dead pigs, who else?”

  “You’ve been scouting too? I’m surprised we haven’t run into each other over the past few months.”

  A venomous glower was the only reply.

  Matt pressed the issue. “Have we met?”

  “Shut your fucking mouth.”

  “Lennie, we got company!” called the Gypsy on the point horse.

  “How many?”

  “Fifty or so.”

  Lennie considered leading them to one of the many pit traps then thought better of it. If one of the prisoners managed to flee, as unlikely as that was, it meant they would lose a valuable surprise for any attack. A plan started to form in his mind and he stared down at the Scot with a widening grin.

  “Uncuff him.”

  “What for?”

  “We’re going to see what Braveheart here can do with his sword.”

  “Lennie, is that a good idea? Let’s just…”

  “Do as I fucking say!” he barked, cutting the man off before he could give one of their secrets away.

  “Sure.”

  Matt stared up at the beaming Gypsy. “You want me to take on fifty? Alone?”

  “A big, dangerous man like you should find it easy.”

  “If I do this, you answer some of my questions. Deal?”

  “If you don’t do this, we cuff you back up and feed one of your men to the deaders. Deal?” Lennie said, still smiling that maniacal smile.

  “Ok, just get everyone back.”

  “You got it, big man. Enjoy!” Lennie tossed the sword to the ground and slowly guided his brown steed backwards.

  “Fuck sake,” snarled Matt, picking up the hefty blade.

  “And don’t think about running. We can come up with some painful games for your friends if you do.”

  “I’m not a coward. I’ll be back.”

  Moving down the quiet country lane, he started to whoop and holler to keep their attention while the others moved out of view. The field to his right rose upwards sharply to a crest with a large copse of woodland. Figuring the terrain would slow the advance into a more manageable trickle, he jogged across the barren land, placing each step carefully on the flattest sections of churned earth. By the top, his heart was racing and the sweat stung against his head from the bitter crosswind.

  “I knew I should’ve brought a hat,” he moaned as the horde approached.

  His instincts were proved correct, and the thick mass of bodies had broken up into a procession based upon the level of rot and damage. The first four seemed to be recent turns, with little decay and no bite marks visible. It occurred to Matt that it was a family, with mother, father, and two sons gurgling in joy at the coming meal. The fear for his own safety vanished at the prophetic sight, and he started to doubt the surety of his belief in the safety of his own kin.

  “Don’t do that to yourself.”

  As they got closer, he could see a white froth dribbling from their lips. Suicide by chemical or medicine was his best guess. Aiming for the soft necks, he hacked through with ease, send
ing heads rolling back down the sharp incline. Would that be how he would end? Finding his dead family, putting them down before joining them. At least we’d be together.

  The second wave approached and he moved towards a thick gorse bush to prevent getting surrounded. Caught in the arm by sharp briars, he cursed and tore the sleeve free. A sudden change in the breeze sent the stink of their weeping, broken skin straight up his nose. The visible meat had turned a dark shade of green that was almost black from rot. Every one of the zombies were early victims judging by the relatively minor injuries suffered before the turn. One young girl was naked from the waist up, breasts flat on her grey chest. She reminded him of Clarissa, and he felt a wave of revulsion at what the poor girl had been through. Hacking down with quick strikes, she and four others had their heads split in two like an axe taken to a log. Her white, sloppy eyes fell from loose sockets as a result of the devastating blow, spreading out on the frozen soil like eggs in a pan.

  “I’m sorry,” Matt whispered to the child stranger.

  Filled with self-hatred and fury in equal measure, Matt went berserk, chopping down with all his vast might. The next dozen were almost split completely in two by the ferocious strikes, falling among their brethren in a sopping heap. Blocked by their dead, the zombies simply staggered onwards, falling over the muck and mire of liquefying guts and blood. Upending the sword, he stabbed downwards with the wickedly sharp tip, piercing skull and brain with ease.

  Unable to keep up with their more complete friends, the ravaged corpses were making a valiant attempt to make it up the hill. Missing limbs, hollowed torsos, no faces. Feeling pity more than anger now, he put them down quickly. By far the worst was the slowest to approach. Two people, possibly lovers, had been run over. They may have even been fighting, Matt couldn’t tell. The double width tyre tracks across their pelvis and upper legs had fused them together with splintered bone and gore. They crawled side by side, legs flopping and intertwined horribly. Death hadn’t been instant. Wherever the pair had fallen, the dead had taken a toll on their still living bodies before reanimation.

  “You poor fuckers,” Matt sighed, slashing left to right from his shoulder, taking the tops of their heads clean off.

  “Good work, Mr Hay. That was impressive!” called Lennie from the gate.

  Marching back down, he tightened his grip on the hilt. Heading straight for their leader, he would’ve attacked him there and then, regardless of the suicidal nature of the gesture. Only the guns which swiftly trained themselves on his men stilled the assault.

  “Put it down, please. Don’t be silly now.”

  “Let my men go.”

  “I can’t do that. Don’t get them killed for your pride.”

  Looking from face to face, the fear was evident in each twitch of their facial muscles. Knowing how the Gypsies handled their enemy was nearly enough to trigger a final charge, killing them all. Only the unanswered question of why, and the hope to see his family again, stayed Matt’s hand. Dropping the sword, green blood trickled from the blade, pooling on the ground.

  “Good lad! Now hold still while we cuff you again.”

  “We could just cut the bullshit and get to the bottom of this right here. What’s this all about?” Matt tried again, but the wall of silence was complete. Lennie didn’t even look, just spoke softly to his horse and kept the double barrels pointed at the procession of men.

  The quaint villages they passed through were either untouched by the apocalypse, or looked like something out of a war movie, there was no in between. Burned out cars, houses that were little more than brick shells, the thatch roofs burned completely away. Scattered bodies and worse littering the street, decomposition returned to a normal pace in true death, leaving a wet patch that was once human.

  The next tiny hamlet was pristine, except for the overgrown grass and dead flowers that no longer had a loving hand to tend them. Windows and doors were intact, untouched cars sitting on the driveways. It was as if the trials of the past few months had ignored this little slice of Heaven. Matt felt a yearning for his own home which was set in a similar idyllic setting. Few people, supportive neighbours, peace and quiet. Bliss. If he could survive the coming storm.

  “That sounds like a swarm,” Matt hissed at the growing tumult of undead groans.

  “It’s quite a number, big man. About eighty thousand by last count.”

  “We need to get the fuck out of here then. Even I can’t take on that many!”

  “Calm yourself. They’re out of the way.”

  Rounding the bend in the road, the prisoners gasped as one at the sight. The gigantic ramp of compacted earth rising into the sky. Twin guard towers made of tightly packed scaffolding poles to give it enough strength to hold the massive bridge.

  “What is this place?”

  “Home, big man.”

  “But how?”

  “Foresight and manpower.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You will, now shut it!”

  Leading them forward, Lennie called out to the watchers who gave an order to lower the bridge. Heavy machinery rumbled to life and chains rattled through eye hooks as the platform descended. Moving forward, Matt looked down into the very pit of Hell. A rocking, swaying undulation that looked like grey water filled the chasm. It wasn’t liquid, but tightly packed, undead flesh. A trench support system had been erected to keep the enormous weight of the mud wall in place. Thick metal cladding was pressed against the sides, with hydraulic pistons keeping the two faces firmly separated.

  “The joys of having contacts in construction,” Lennie said, noting the amazement on the faces.

  “How big is this place?”

  “Bigger than it was when we first started, that’s for sure,” Lennie replied and said no more.

  “Move, she’s waiting for you!”

  “Mrs Hampton?” asked Matt.

  “The one and only.”

  Everything clicked and Matt could’ve kicked himself for being so dense. Being from Scotland, the territory was controlled by another Gypsy clan. The Hamptons were the fearsome family that ran most of the business south of Sheffield and vast swathes of Ireland. How had he not recognized the name? Hundreds of angry faces stared from the wall or out of caravan doors. This was all too surreal and Matt found himself laughing.

  “Nothing funny about what’s coming, big man,” warned Lennie, dropping the calm façade.

  “You’ve got the wrong people, that’s all that’s coming. We’ve never even come across your clan.”

  Ignoring the reply, Lennie forced them on until they reached the stable. Jumping down, he handed the reins over to the ostler and motioned for the prisoners to follow. Matt took the opportunity to survey the area. Earthen walls stretched away from them for about three hundred feet in each direction before straightening and heading into the distance. From the angle he couldn’t see where it ended over tightly packed mobile homes. If the concentration of trailers continued in a similar fashion, there could be several hundred families in the area. Men, women, and even children spat as they passed, cursing them for all time. Catching sight of the arsenal on offer, Matt felt worried for the first time in his life. They were vastly outnumbered and outgunned. Hunting rifles, shotguns of varying style, and even two or three police issue Heckler and Koch’s were on display. Lord knew what was hidden away out of sight.

  “Keep moving! Towards the chimney!” Lennie pointed down the road.

  A brick building sat between two terraces of homes, churning out a thick column of smoke into the sky. Reaching the double doors, the Gypsies took out rolls of duct tape and wound it round ankles, knees, and chests to completely incapacitate the men. Above the doorway in aged paint were the words, Sullingby Blacksmiths. Matt’s dread jumped two notches to outright terror.

  “What is this?” he demanded, trying to maintain his cool.

  “Somewhere for you to get warm, big man,” chuckled the Gypsy.

  “That’s kind of you, but I’m
toasty enough.”

  The crowd started to laugh, but it had a darkness to it that chilled him to the marrow. The wooden, sliding doors trundled open on unoiled runners with a painful screech. Stepping between the two doormen, Mrs Hampton walked forward, trailing a hooded zombie on a chain leash. Seconds dragged out to a full minute as she studied the captives. Her face was inscrutable. The crowd were utterly still, with only the crackle of an unseen fire and the vacant gurgling of her companion breaking the silence. Her sudden step forward caused each of them to flinch, and another rumble of knowing snickers broke out among the observers.

  “These’re the prisoners?”

  Lennie nodded. “We followed them from Ford last night.”

  “You were watching us the whole time?” Matt asked, glancing away from the seemingly benign woman.

  Lennie ignored the question.

  “Good. That’s good.”

  “Mrs Hampton. Ma’am, if I could talk to you alone, we can sort out this misunderstanding. I don’t know you, or your people, but I know we can do more if we work together.”

  “If you say another word without me asking, I’ll geld you with red hot shears,” she said, still expressionless.

  Matt’s testicles attempted to climb inside his body cavity at the threat and he closed his mouth. Hidden behind her calm exterior was a simmering rage and insanity, he could see that now.

  “Put five in the chairs and the rest on the tables.”

  “Yes, Mrs Hampton,” replied the men, manhandling the trussed prisoners through the doors.

  The biting cold gave way to an intense heat like the gates of Hell had been thrown wide. Previously frigid skin started to tingle from the dramatic change in temperature. A row of sturdy chairs and tables had been securely bolted to the stone floor. Dragging them roughly to the furniture, the Gypsies bound them further with tape and ropes.

  “Here,” said Mrs Hampton, handing Lennie the chain. “Go and tie your cousin in the corner for me.”

  She pulled up a leather chair and sat down, watching them again. In the corner, a bellows was gasping and blowing, sending waves of heat radiating from the smelter.