Hellspawn (Book 6): Retribution Page 7

  “Grab him!” shouted Max.

  “Nearly there!” Tim yelled.

  “Aaaaand got him!” cried Andrew triumphantly, clutching Matt’s hood. “Steady the boat!”

  More hands wrapped around his upper body, pulling his bulk from the freezing water. Denied their meal, the bisected zombies thrashed and sunk below the slowly lapping surface.

  “Strip his clothes off!”

  “Not until we’re clear of the bank. Hold on!”

  “Pull the rest of the rope in before one of those things grabs hold!”

  Matt stared up at the white clouds of the winter’s day. Patches of blue sky struggled to force their way through the fluffy covering. Rays of sunlight lanced down through the breaks wherever possible, but lacked the power to clear the pale blanket of suspended moisture. The scene rocked as the vessels were cut loose of the moorings. Floating away from the imminent threat, the prisoners commenced undressing their leader down to his underwear.

  “You’d… better… buy… me… a… drink… later…” Matt mumbled as they wrapped him in hastily removed coats.

  “I’ll buy you the whole bar, boss,” said Max with evident relief.

  “Good… lad.”

  Followed by the incessant groans of the thwarted dead, they floated away. The marina was close.

  Chapter 12

  “The bodies are ready, Mr Arater,” said Jason Rechtman, his face chalky white and sweating profusely.

  “What the fuck’s the matter with you? If you’re ill you can keep the hell away from me.”

  “It’s just… I was there... It was…” he mumbled, swallowing the watery saliva that poured into his mouth.

  “Get him a bin for fuck’s sake!”

  Mike passed over the metal receptacle and the pasty engineer vomited the scant contents of his stomach.

  “With all you’ve seen and you’re still grossed out by a couple of bodies? Pussy.”

  “Where are they?” asked Mike.

  Swaying unsteadily on legs that felt like jelly, Jason replied. “We’ve laid them out on a table by the tunnel. There’s not much left.”

  “Good. It’ll be a lesson for the wankers at the castle not to fuck with us.”

  “I’m surprised they had the balls in the first place,” said Mike. “They must know our strength.”

  “I expect they were just testing our defences. You know, like soldiers do.”

  “We’ll soon see.”

  Mike was breathless with excitement. The deaths of two of the castle fucks would knock their morale heavily. It would be even better if it was Kurt and one of the troops. The loss would be devastating. As the two leaders strode out of the building, Jason did his best to keep up. Driven by legs that had purpose, the brothers were fast. Jason’s seemed to be doing everything in their power to slow him down, to prevent another glimpse at the soggy remains. Seeing the poisonous glance that Craig shot back, he redoubled his efforts and started to jog.

  “Have you eaten, boss?”

  Ignoring the comment, Craig pushed past and headed straight for the table. A sheet of white linen was draped across the two figures. Small patches of the material had maintained their pristine colour, but the rest was saturated with wet crimson. The shapes themselves were all wrong under the covering; lacking the basic outline that should mark them as human.

  “Ready, little brother?”

  “Just pull the sheet back,” Mike snapped.

  With a repulsively moist peeling sound, the partly frozen sheet came away and Mike lost his breakfast too. Little more than two red, jellied lumps, the pressure of the soil had pulverised every bone in their body. Every seam of clothing had torn first, followed by the skin and flesh beneath which was unable to hold the meat together under the massive weight.

  “Their faces…” Mike gasped.

  “I told you,” Jason said, quietly.

  Even Craig, the almighty overlord of the prison, fell silent.

  Long, dark hair was matted with mud, blood, and grease. The skull was little more than powder, hiding any sense of proportion or structure to any features they may have had. Some of the internal organs were hanging from the squashed, silently screaming mouths, forced out as the earth had settled. Shiny coils of the digestive tract hung from their other orifice, dangling from the table. Mike couldn’t look away from the flat faces; with the burst eyes and jagged fragments of shattered jaw protruding from the cheeks. The enamel of yellowed teeth and gold fillings glinted in the light.

  “Do you recognise them?” Craig said, back in control.

  “No.”

  “Are you sure? I could see if Feeley can rebuild what’s left of their faces.”

  That brought another wave of nausea and he shook his head. “It’s the hair. It’s way too long. None of them had it like that.”

  “So it could be either some of the other survivors Pesci saw on the walls, or someone new.”

  “If it was someone new, why would they try and sneak in the tunnels? How would they even know about the tunnels?”

  “I don’t know,” Craig replied. Nodding to the prisoner, the bodies were covered up. “Wash them and freeze them. Bobby will know what to do.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  “Did you want me to reopen the tunnel, Mr Arater?” asked Jason.

  “No, leave it for now. Until I know who they are, we keep it sealed.”

  “If I were to guess, they’re just a couple of survivors who might’ve seen the tunnel being used and hoped for shelter.”

  “That didn’t work out too well for them, did it?”

  “No,” said Jason, bowing his head. He felt a weight of guilt at the deaths pressing down on him no less than the mud on the dead men. His creation was the cause of their demise, regardless of its original purpose. Blood was on his hands.

  “Someone find Hombre for me. I want to check if he saw anything while he was out there.”

  Two of the guards hurried off to obey. Staring at the pancaked men under their funeral shroud, he frowned. “Bizarre.”

  “You’re not kidding,” replied Mike. “We thought it was just us and them, but it looks like there are others out there in the world.”

  “More people for us to rule over. Bring it on!”

  “Boss! We’ve got a problem!” shouted one of the men who’d gone in search of Hombre.

  “What’s up?”

  “He’s gone.”

  “Hombre?”

  “Yeah. The doc and that woman too. They left a couple of hours ago.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Craig demanded, grabbing the man by the throat. “She could barely move.”

  “I don’t know exactly. Norman was on watch and he said they left.”

  “And he didn’t think to stop them?” Craig roared, tossing the man away.

  “I’m sorry, boss.”

  “Bring Norman to the board. We’re going to get some fucking answers!”

  Chapter 13

  “How’re you feeling?”

  “Like a fucking ice lolly, lad,” Matt replied. He was chilled to the marrow, and no amount of dry coats seemed able to banish the cold.

  “We’re nearly there. I can see the boats around the curve in the river,” Andrew said, peering ahead.

  Oars cut the water with soft splashes, propelling them onwards with the help of the current. Scraps of hair still clung to the flat wooden paddles. Bobbing half zombies had felt the brunt of the thin edge as the prisoners drifted past.

  Expansive docks stretched out along the river. A man-made lagoon had been excavated from the land, extending the marina by several hundred berths. Guiding the small, thankfully watertight, craft through the concrete walls of the main marina, the men surveyed the area. Here and there a zombie was clomping around on the wooden docks. Their numbers were so low as to be meaningless compared to the vast swarm which had nearly taken them half an hour ago.

  “What’s the plan, boss?” asked Paul.

  “First things first, you mak
e me a cup of tea so I can warm up.”

  Looking around in confusion, the prisoner turned back to Matt. “I don’t have a kettle.”

  “I was joking, you melon.”

  “Oh, I get it,” he chuckled, blatantly not getting it.

  “The first thing we do is get off at the furthest end of the dock. Over there should do,” he said, pointing out a jetty with a multi-million pound yacht tied securely to the cleats. Nylon boat fenders creaked as the weight of the large vessel pressed against them.

  “I need to warm up, so Paul and I are going to go for a snuggle in one of the bedrooms. Once I’ve had my…”

  The prisoner’s eyes bugged in horror. “Wait, what? Boss, I don’t. I mean, I’m not.”

  Looking at the others who were trying to hold back their laughter, Matt said, “It’s not even like shooting fish in a barrel, is it? It’s like using a stick of dynamite strapped to the bloody fish.”

  “You’re… You’re joking?”

  “Of course I am. You’ll need to shave first.”

  Rubbing at his stubbly face, they could see the relief flood through him. “I can’t. My razor’s back at the prison.”

  Matt sighed deeply and rubbed at his own face. “Jesus H fucking Christ, lad. You’re lucky I’m too cold to throttle you out of mercy.”

  “Throttling’s not a mercy. It’s painful. One of my ex-girlfriends tried to do it to me during sex.”

  Max patted him on the arm. “Just stop talking, mate.”

  “Why’re you crying?” he asked, seeing the streaming tears.

  “It’s the wind chill,” Max lied.

  “If only these were brain eating zombies. One of us would be completely immune,” Matt muttered.

  “That would be good,” nodded Paul. “Who?”

  “Max, lad. I’m talking about Max.”

  “He’s calling you dumb.” Paul laughed at Max, glad to escape the teasing for a short time.

  A collective groan went up like that of a dozen zombies. Looking at his friends in confusion, Paul returned his attention to the Scottish icicle who was doing everything in his power to not throw the youth into the water.

  “Ok, now that we’ve got that out of the way, we can use the boat to hide out. I want to wait for a while and see if we get troubled by the Littlehampton welcoming committee.”

  “What if they do turn up?”

  “Then we’re fucked to be honest. We won’t be able to get the boats safely with thousands milling around.”

  “We’ll pull out?” asked Paul.

  “Like your dad should’ve, you mean?”

  “My dad’s not with us. He’s probably dead.”

  Seeing the insult go flying over the young man’s head, Max stopped himself and gave a wan smile of commiseration instead.

  “We’ll be forced to pull back. Except we may be forced to head out to sea, beach the boat and walk back over land to lose the dead fucks.”

  “And no dram of whiskey?”

  “Sorry, lad. There won’t be a dram if we get pushed back.”

  “Damn, I was looking forward to that,” grumbled the slow witted individual.

  “We might still get the chance. Don’t fret,” said Matt.

  Standing up in the tiny boat, he grasped the timber struts of the dock while the others tied a haphazard knot around them. Using the small ladder, he climbed up and knew immediately he wasn’t ready for any kind of confrontation. His fingers felt like half thawed sausages, brittle and ready to snap. Blowing into cupped palms, the meagre heat of his breath was enough to cause a tingling pain.

  “Let’s get inside the yacht and warm up for a bit,” he said.

  Paul took a couple of steps backwards and came perilously close to the edge of the dock in his desperation to escape Matt’s romantic advances. Max grabbed him by the sleeve and pushed him forward, but his eyes never left Matt as he staggered past.

  “Bless his heart,” Max said as he walked by.

  “He’s as dumb as a box of rocks that boy,” Matt sighed.

  “Yeah, but he’s our box of rocks.”

  “That’s true,” said Matt, following the others as they climbed aboard.

  “It’s all locked up,” said Paul.

  Matt was tempted to throw out another mocking comment, but settled for pulling out a jemmy bar and handing it over instead. Breaking open the hatch on the lower deck, they peered into the dark of the sleeping quarters below. A narrow passage led to several faux wooden veneer doors and the cramped quarters.

  “At least we’ve got somewhere to sleep if the hotel is a bust,” said Max.

  “I’m taking the master bedroom. It’s a double,” Matt said, slowly turning to look at Paul.

  “Er, I’ll sleep up top,” stammered the red faced man.

  “Fucking hell, lad. Just pop the upper deck door so we can sit down.”

  A small set of steps led to a sliding glass door. Wedging the bar into the frame, the lock crunched and the door slid open a fraction. The unmistakeable stench of decay wafted out and the prisoners all took a step back, ready for an attack. A shadow was laid up near the control console, quite still. Switching on the torch, Max illuminated the dead figure. A spent spear gun was laid beside the man, with the bolt itself embedded under his chin. A shiny, barbed tip protruded by an inch through the grey haired scalp of the aged mariner.

  “Shall we pick another boat?” asked Tim.

  Matt looked around at the luxury and then out onto the marina. It was by far the most expensive vessel, well over a million pounds in value by his estimate. The small lounge was lined with beige leather sofas. A kitchenette was fitted with a dark granite worktop, glossy and thick. The carpet beneath his feet as he stepped inside was soft and deep.

  “Nah, we just toss the body overboard,” replied Matt.

  “Any volunteers?” asked Max.

  Andrew stepped forward, walking face first into the last traces of sealed stink. His enthusiasm was quickly tempered by the dead flies and teeming maggots.

  “They had nowhere to go,” said Matt, kicking at the tiny black corpses all around them.

  “Get a duvet from below. We can wrap him and drop the whole thing over the side.”

  Andrew complied, happy to be back out in the fresh air. Returning a short while later, he handed a spare cover to the shivering Scot who draped it around the broad shoulders gratefully. Watching and grinning as the others tried to kick the pieces of the cadaver onto the sheet, he turned his attention away when he saw a small glass fronted cabinet tucked in the corner of the lounge area. Ignoring the retching of his men and the wet, tearing of the disintegrating suicide victim, he slowly opened the door and marvelled at the contents. A bottle of rye whiskey called out to him. An expensive rarity, it was taken from an Indiana distillery, then finished in casks previously containing Armagnac. The big boss back in Scotland had secured a bottle via auction back in the day, and Matt would never forget the delightful taste of the liquor as it saturated his taste buds.

  “Found something good?”

  “Better than good. This stuff is worth killing the whole town for,” he replied. “You’re in for a treat later.”

  Placing the hideously expensive bottle in his bag, he was just in time to hear the splash as the body, or separate parts of the body, were dumped.

  “We’ve got a few new friends,” said Andrew through the doorway.

  Heading their way through the labyrinthine maze of docks and jetties were a few dozen undead. A handful of the zombies were too intent on their prey. Misplacing their step, they toppled from the decking, crashing against the boats before hitting the water.

  “Dumbarses,” chuckled Tim.

  “Are they related to you?” Max asked Paul.

  “How should I know? They’re too mouldy to tell.”

  Paul tried to peer closer until Matt pulled him back. “Do me a favour. Bang on the guard rails and finish off anything that comes. I’m going to get below and wrap up on a bed before my dick freezes and sna
ps off. Does anyone want to join me?”

  Paul made every effort to look everywhere except at the grinning Scot.

  “That’s not very friendly, is it, sweetheart?” He chuckled, ducking through the raised hatch.

  Chapter 14

  “Right, we’re going for the main gate first. I want it sealed and locked tight, but not at the expense of pulling a few thousand dead fucks down on our heads. If the information is correct, it’s only rolling chain link anyway with a manual barrier controlled by the security guard,” explained Matt.

  “Why bother if that’s the case?” Tim asked.

  “I don’t want any nasty surprises waiting for us in the morning. As soon as dawn breaks, we check the gate to see if it’s still standing. If it is, we can work with a bit more confidence than if it was trampled.”

  “Yeah, ok. Makes sense.”

  “Paul, you got the chains?”

  Ruffling in a leather holdall, the links chimed against each other.

  “Got ‘em.”

  “Good. We close it, chain it, then head for the hotel. It’s only three floors with about a hundred rooms.”

  “That’s a lot of hiding places,” muttered Max.

  “We’ll clear it slowly and carefully. Is everyone ready?”

  The men all affirmed.

  “Time to rock and roll!”

  Matt felt good, the chill of the dunking was completely gone. He’d taken a short nap in the bunk while the others had dispatched any zombie close enough to hear their clanging dinner bell. Waking from the brief slumber, he’d gone topside to find a sea of floating corpses surrounding the luxury yacht. Even Andrew was looking less pensive as his fellow prisoners grudgingly accepted him.