Hellspawn (Book 6): Retribution Read online

  “We’ll decide their fate in good time, don’t worry,” promised Kurt. Their faces paled further.

  “Who did it?” asked Louise.

  “We don’t know. We can only assume that during our weakened state, the prison managed to sneak someone inside the walls.”

  More expletives shot towards the separatists, swiftly followed by tangible objects. Pens, books, even an empty glass bottle sailed across the vast hall, shattering well short of the target.

  “Please! Enough!” Kurt shouted, stilling the bedlam.

  “What do we do now?”

  “We’re going to search in teams of four. One of the team will be armed with a gun for safety. With Mr. Vincent’s help, we’ll lock down the wings one at a time until we either find them, or confirm that they’ve escaped.”

  “And if we find them?”

  “I don’t think you need to guess how we’ll repay their actions,” said Kurt. The darkness in his eyes provided all the answer they needed.

  “I’d like to help,” offered one of the rebels.

  “You’ll sit there and shut your fucking mouth until I talk to you, do you hear me?” Kurt said through gritted teeth.

  She sat back, close to tears at the death stares from the others.

  “I’ll need volunteers from the trustworthy members of our group. I’ll assign you a search area starting at the watchtower and heading back through the residence until we reach the western bedrooms. Once the building’s secure, we search the grounds.”

  Every hand shot into the air, even from the ostracized cowards. Ignoring their blatant attempt to curry favour, the teams were selected and asked to prepare. Standing with his back to the fire, Kurt started to feel woozy. Holding the back of a chair for support, trembling fingers massaged the bridge of his nose, trying to relieve the building pressure. Scrunching the throbbing eyes tightly shut alleviated the worst of the stabbing pain radiating through his pounding skull.

  “Are you ok, babe?” Sarah asked, taking his face in her hands,

  Kurt’s eyes were bloodshot, and he was cold in spite of the radiant heat washing over him from the roaring grate.

  “I don’t feel great, but I’ll be ok once we get this dealt with. I think it’s just a bit of stress.”

  “Have a rest while we deal with it,” offered Sarah.

  Kurt shook his head. “I’ll be fine. Can we get the core group together before everyone heads off? I want a quick chat.”

  “Sure. Shall we meet in the office?”

  “I’ll see you there in a minute.”

  Sarah watched him walk away and couldn’t miss the unsteady gait, or the way he had to pause once more against another chair to regain his balance.

  Sighing deeply, her concern was bubbling over into outright fear for his well-being. Gloria and Denise caught her eye. They’d seen it too.

  “Kurt wants a quick meeting, can you help me round everyone up?” she asked the teacher.

  “Of course, my dear.”

  Chapter 4

  “I don’t know what to do,” Kurt sighed, looking at the faces of his trusted friends. The toll of the past few days was a crushing burden he could see no way of shifting.

  Sarah gave his cold hand a reassuring squeeze. “We do what we’ve done since this whole world went to Hell, we fight.”

  “But we don’t have the people, and those that we do have are either too old, or too fucking selfish.” He grumbled, head shaking in disgust.

  “If you remember, we weren’t expecting a reception when we arrived. The plan was for our small group to hold the castle, a fraction of the numbers we currently have,” explained Gloria.

  “She’s right, mate,” said Jonesy. “As hard as it’s going to be, we’ll just need to extend the guard postings. Twelve hour shifts in pairs.”

  “The outsiders won’t be happy,” Kurt warned. He was exhausted from the constant battle of wills. Their actions had led to murder, which could have ended catastrophically for the whole castle. Thankfully, the only victims were the renegades themselves.

  “You let us worry about that,” Denise replied.

  “They’ll be doing double shifts for the foreseeable future,” Gloria confirmed with a scowl of anger.

  “Twenty-four hours with that section of wall not being watched. We may as well roll up the portcullis and let the undead in. Better to get it over with and not let those bastards in the prison have the satisfaction.”

  “You can’t be serious?” exclaimed Sarah.

  “Sorry, love. I’m just at my wits end. I hate to be the one to give up after the blood we’ve spilled for this place, but maybe it’s time to just cut our losses. We could always find somewhere smaller, far away from Mike and Debbie.” Kurt sighed.

  “Nonsense!” Gloria barked. “I won’t let your father’s sacrifice be in vain.”

  “Those two have to pay for what they did.” Braiden glowered.

  “Babe, go and have a lie down,” Sarah urged. “We’ll discuss what to do next. I’ll bring you up to speed once you wake up.”

  “I’m not tired,” he said, yawning.

  “Now,” she replied.

  “Ok, I’ll see you in a bit.” Kurt kissed her and waved a hand at the others who all wished him a good night.

  As the door to the reading room closed, Sarah waited a few seconds as the sound of footsteps moved away. “He’s close to breaking point.”

  “I’m not surprised, the man’s a machine. He hardly sleeps, hardly eats, and won’t leave the wall alone for more than a couple of hours,” DB added.

  “He’s a natural leader,” Jonesy confirmed. “But great leaders know how to delegate.”

  “Well I’m delegating for him, to all of us. I hate to even think it, but perhaps we can convince him to keep out of the way for a few days. Forcefully if necessary,” Sarah replied.

  “You mean lock him up?”

  “If he won’t take a backseat for a bit, yes.”

  DB shook his head. “I’m not laying hands on the man. He’s as much a brother to me as any soldier.”

  “You won’t need to lay hands on him. I’ll get him alone in a bedroom and when he falls asleep, sneak out and lock it. There won’t be any need for a fight.”

  “He won’t like that.”

  “He’ll like what I tell him to like,” Sarah replied, candidly. “He’s no good to us if he snaps. We need him calm and focused, like he was when we left the house weeks ago.”

  “Ok, I’m on board,” said Jonesy, reluctantly. He understood the rigours of battle and how a frazzled superior could be more dangerous than the enemy.

  “What if the prison attacks, Mum? You can’t lock him away,” asked Sam. He was torn between loyalty to his father and the knowledge that his mental state was dangling by a thread.

  “That’s why we’ll watch the walls properly. Anyone that doesn’t pull their weight gets banished. I’m tired of fucking around with these people!” she said, eyes blazing. It was rare, if not unheard of, for her to curse like that.

  “Who’s going to tell them?”

  “I will as soon as we’re done here. They’ve got a shit load of work to do in regaining their place in our group. We know the secret tunnels now, so if needs be we can send them out through there safely.”

  “They won’t be safe once they set foot outside,” said DB.

  “They’ll sink or swim, the same as we had to.”

  “Except sinking means being eaten alive.”

  “Then let’s hope they get their fingers out of their arses and start to contribute. Better people than them have died by the millions. I won’t lose sleep over a single one of them.”

  “Sadly, I have to agree,” Gloria said.

  “I’ll do the rounds while they’re on guard. If I catch them slacking, they get one warning, no more. If I catch them half arsing again, they take the walk out into the world. Does everyone agree?”

  Heads nodded in unison.

  “What’s the plan for the next few days?” as
ked Gloria.

  “Ok, we’re going to get ourselves in gear too. The killing may have been a warning, or a test. I want everything in place before the real attack happens. Sam and Braiden, you and the rest of the students are going for the bows.”

  They high fived.

  “With an armed escort.”

  “Ok, Mum,” they replied.

  “Denise and Patricia, would you mind coming up with a plan for getting into the cathedral? I want to know what the hell’s going on in there.”

  “You got it, sweetie,” Denise confirmed.

  “Jonesy and DB, can you rustle up a sentry duty roster with the extra shifts accounted for?”

  “No problem.”

  “Once that’s done, would you mind brainstorming the best way of getting the food from the supermarket? I can’t see how we’ll be able to do it without using vehicles.”

  “You got it,” Jonesy replied.

  “If we go rolling, it’ll need to be in and out in a flash. The days are so quiet, anything like an engine will bring them running.”

  “We could always set a few houses on fire and create a distraction,” offered Peter.

  “That’s a good call. We’d need to pick ones that aren’t terraced like most of the town. That way the fire will just burn out and not spread.”

  “We can insulate the engine compartment as well. The Duke’s home cinema has that pointy acoustic board on the walls,” added Jodi.

  “Will that work?” Sarah asked the group.

  “God knows, but it can’t hurt.” DB shrugged.

  “Right, we have our jobs. I’ll call the deserters in here and tell them the good news. Kids, I’m scared to death, but be ready to go tomorrow. I’ll organise who’s going with you. Ladies, if you prepare for a few days’ time? I want whoever’s in the cathedral back here and safe by Wednesday. Guys, you have a week. I want the food run to go off without a hitch. Is that enough time for everyone?”

  “Plenty.”

  “We’ll be ready, Mum,” said Braiden. Both he and Sam were deadly serious, and she felt a wave of relief that they were treating it with the mature manner it warranted. She would judge the other youngsters over the course of the day to see their suitability.

  Chapter 5

  “Are you sure this is going to be enough men?” Craig asked, surveying the motley crew.

  “Aye, it’ll do. We’ll each bring back a boat which should be enough to get us started,” Matt replied.

  “Ok, good. We’ll get the scumbag kiddie fiddlers to plant stakes in the bank for when you get back. If we lose a few, who gives a shit? Until we can get Rechtman to plan the construction of a proper dock, we’ll just tie the boats against the bank.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  “Watch yourself out there.”

  “If Hombre can bring back a generator single handed from the middle of a town, I’m pretty sure our dirty dozen will be just fine making our way to the coast.”

  “I know, just be careful.”

  Matt gave a curt nod and turned to the massive gates. A distraction party had been set up at the north of the prison walls, but a few determined stragglers beat on the wood at the sound of the voices within.

  Craig moved back through the inner steel inspection gates and locked them. Standing beside Mike, he gave a signal to the prisoners on the wall. Using the recently installed pulley system, the gates swung open and allowed the twenty zombies access to the small yard.

  Matt grinned and held his arms wide in challenge. Rising vertically from his massive right fist was the claymore sword that the welders had created in the workshop. It was a masterpiece, cut and filed from an offcut of the Foxhound’s armour. Five feet long, with a leather bound cruciform hilt, the blade was razor sharp and glinted in the morning light.

  “Everyone get the fuck back,” Matt ordered, grasping the weapon in both hands.

  Bumbling forward, the first three were caught with a brutal side swipe. Severing through the rot weakened torsos, separate parts fell to the cold ground in a heap of emerald viscera.

  “Finish them off,” Matt said, stepping over the incapacitated corpses.

  Slashing downwards, the heavy weapon cleaved an elderly woman in half from head to groin. Slopping aside like two decaying slabs of meat, the organs splashed wetly to the ground.

  “That’s gross,” complained Max, one of the underlings.

  “Come on!” Matt roared, swinging the sword in a wide arc at head height. Decapitated at different levels, the bodies fell, quickly followed by three complete heads, a confused looking half head, and the dome of an upper cranium.

  “Next!”

  As the bodies fell, Matt realized he hadn’t felt this good in ages. The two handed blade was part of his family’s rich history, dating back to the First War of Scottish Independence. The original Hay clan, or Haye as they were once known, had served as part of Andrew Moray’s personal guard at the Battle of Stirling Bridge. At times he was ashamed of his criminal endeavours which sullied the family name, but his ancestors had once been known as outlaws too. Now they were heroes, feted by the masses for their bravery in standing against tyranny.

  “Good luck!” Mike shouted as the men finished off the shuddering mass with knives to the brains.

  Matt looked back and gave him a thumbs up. Their efforts to build bridges following the unfortunate headbutting incident weren’t unnoticed by Craig.

  “He’s forgiven you. I told you he would.”

  “I still think I should’ve gone with him. I’ve been out there more than any of them, and it would’ve given me a chance to prove myself.”

  “Forget that shit. You made it here on foot, you’ve got nothing to prove to anyone.”

  “I guess so.” Mike grumbled as the gates slammed shut.

  **********

  “Right you lot, we stay low, we stay quiet. Once we reach the marina, it’ll be late afternoon. We’ll be bedding down in the hotel for the night. I want as few of those bastard things on our tail as possible when we arrive so that we can clear it quickly and lock it down. Does everyone understand?”

  “Yes, boss.”

  “First thing in the morning we clear the marina again just in case. I don’t want any nasty surprises. Max and Paul, you’ll be on hot-wiring duty. Did you bring the batteries?”

  They turned to the side and he could see square bulges in the backpacks.

  “Good. If we can make it there in good time, I’ll sort you all out a wee dram of whisky.”

  “Only a dram?” Max asked.

  “Fuck it, a whole bottle. Now let’s get moving, my arse is starting to freeze.”

  “I thought you Scots were meant to be used to the cold?”

  “I’ve been locked up down here with you southern fairies for years. I’ve gone soft.”

  A rumble of hearty chuckles broke out as they marched across the open fields to the south of Ford Prison.

  “Can we run through the plan again while we walk?” asked Andrew, a particularly slimy weasel who Matt disliked immensely. It was only his rudimentary knowledge of boats that had secured his place on the mission.

  Letting out a sigh to voice his annoyance, Matt said, “It’s about six miles to the bridge we need to take. From there, thing start to get a bit hairy. We’re going to be moving through Littlehampton, not these poxy villages with three houses and a fucking post office. We’re talking tens of thousands of zombies.”

  “What if they spot us?”

  “Then we’d better be ready for a fight.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course not, you dickhead. The homes and businesses are so tightly packed we can just break in, climb to the roof and scarper if we need to. Once we’ve crossed a few roofs, we hop down and carry on.”

  “Thank fuck for that,” Andrew blurted, showing his cowardice.

  “What were you in for again?”

  “Assault,” he replied, defensively.

  “Bollocks. It was rape. You don’t get twelve years
for punching someone,” mocked Terry, a real bruiser.

  “You leave those women zombies alone, do you hear me? There’s no telling what shit you’ll pick up sticking your little pecker inside their worm infested pussy.”

  “Oh, Matt. That’s fucking sick.” Terry groaned.

  “Don’t moan at me! I’m warning Mr Rapey over there.”

  “Don’t call me that!” snapped Andrew.

  Matt strode over and gently tapped him, forehead to bandaged forehead. “Or what?”

  “Noth… nothing. Just don’t say it, please,” Andrew said, backing away and massaging his bruised head. The adhesive padding of his foe had done little to soften the blow.

  “I’ll call you what I want, understand? I was a lot happier when you mixed with the other wrong’uns and kept the fuck away from me. The only reason you’re here is because you’ve got one use; piloting a boat. Just keep back, stay quiet, and kill what I tell you to. You got a problem with that?”

  “No, fine,” Andrew bridled. He ignored the impulse to call the other men out for their hypocrisy. After all, they all took part in rape night, so why the hell were they giving him a hard time about it? Gently touching his swelling forehead, he fell back and kept quiet. The throbbing damage was the result of the slightest contact from the burly Scotsman. A full blooded headbutt would, and had, killed men. Most recently, Keeping, if rumours were to be believed. Talk of the murder were verboten, but it didn’t stop the chatter. Shattered skull, leaking brains, rumours of revenge. Careful! That was even more likely to get him killed.

  The uneven fields were taking a toll on the unsuitable footwear of several in the group. Coming to a halt, they sat on the frozen ground and massaged their calves and aching ankles.

  “I told you to wear boots, didn’t I?” said the Scot.

  “I thought trainers would be better for running.”

  “You won’t be doing any running with fucked up feet and legs, will you?” Matt snapped.

  “I guess not,” muttered Max. “Shall we head back?”

  “Not a fucking chance. I warned you the going would be rough until we reached the town. You’ll have to deal with it.”