Ghostland (Book 3): Ghostland 3

by Whittington, Shaun

  Helen left the door open as she stepped inside the cabin, to allow what little light there was outside to creep in, and could see that her little boy had dozed off in the bed.

  “Bless him,” she said with sadness in her words.

  This wasn’t right. Living in this hellish world was too much for a small child, especially a sensitive soul like David.

  She sat at the side of the bed and looked at her special man. She stroked his forehead and her eyes dampened as he began to moan in his sleep. Was he having a bad dream? She could protect him in the outside world, but she was helpless when he was sleeping.

  He threw his head to the side and Helen wondered if she should wake him up. David moaned, “No, no, no.”

  That was enough for Helen. She shook her little boy until his eyes opened. He looked confused, and began to look around the cabin. The disappointment on his face was clear, and for a while he must have thought that he was back in the old world, back in his old bedroom.

  Looking around the cabin had made him realise that the reality was that he was living in a world where his friends were no more. His school days would never come back, there was no Xbox anymore, no football practice and no TV.

  He sat up and said nothing to his mum, who was still stroking his head, and then burst into tears.

  Mother and son hugged and Helen’s heart broke for the umpteenth time for this little man that she had brought into the world, and she stayed where she was until he was finished. She loved David. He was everything to her, in fact he was all that she had left, but if she could get the time back, she never would have had him. This was no place for an adult, let alone a child. This was hell on Earth.

  David had soaked his mum’s shoulder and had finally stopped crying. They broke away from their embrace and Helen wiped his tears away with her thumb and kissed him on the head.

  “My poor boy,” she cried. “My poor sweet boy.”

  There was a knock on the cabin door and Helen and David looked over to see Donald standing just outside, on the top step.

  He asked, “Everything okay?”

  Helen and David nodded.

  Despite not being invited in, Donald stepped inside and produced a wide smile when David looked at him.

  “Alright, champ?” Donald bellowed and could see he was upset. “What’s up?”

  Helen stood up and Donald flashed her a wink, as if to say: ‘I’ve got this.’

  Helen walked by Donald and whispered to him that her boy had had a bad dream. She left the cabin with no protest from the wee man, and Donald took her place, sitting on the side of the bed.

  “I hate nightmares, don’t you?” Donald rubbed the top of David’s head and began to have thoughts about his own son.

  David nodded and wiped his eyes.

  “The good thing about nightmares is that you can escape them and they sometimes don’t come back.”

  David looked baffled by Donald’s ramblings, but never said anything.

  Donald could see David’s confusion and explained in short, “What I mean is that you eventually wake up.”

  “Oh.” David took in a deep breath and asked, “Donald?”

  “What is it?”

  “Where do they come from, the nightmares?”

  “Jeez. Now there’s a question.” Donald was lost in thought and had no definitive answer. “I think most nightmares occur during the night, but you only had a nap. I suppose being anxious can make you have nightmares. And let’s be honest, we’re all anxious.”

  “Anxious?”

  “It means when you’re scared.”

  “Oh.”

  Donald put his arm around the boy that he had grown fond of over time, and gave him a kiss on the top of his head. He had never said anything to David, or Helen for that matter, but he loved the little fellow. He felt sorry for him, and from being a father himself he felt protective towards him.

  “My worst dreams are not really the nightmares, although I do get my fair share.” Donald cleared his throat and added, “Do you dig what I’m sayin’?”

  David shook his head, making Donald chuckle.

  “Nightmares are pretty bad,” Donald began to explain. “But it’s the nice dreams that I hate.”

  “What do you mean?” David was still confused.

  “A few weeks ago, I had a dream that I was in the park with my son. He was about four years old in the dream, and we went on the swings, the slide, and some climbing web that was made of rope. Anyway, after that we went for ice cream and went home and watched a movie together.”

  “I would love a day like that,” David said with sadness. “Just one.”

  “Well, this was a dream, and it was very realistic,” said Donald. “But when you wake up and you’re in this cabin with seven others, it hits you like a sledgehammer that life will never be the same again.”

  David’s bottom lip was pushed out and he dropped his head.

  “I’m sorry,” Donald began to snicker. “I’m hardly cheering you up, am I? I’m just telling you like it is.”

  David reached out and placed his soft warm palm on top of Donald’s hand, making the middle aged man feel emotional.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Donald.” The little boy spoke with a quiver in his voice. “I feel safe when you’re here.”

  Donald grunted, trying to remove the hardness in his throat and rubbed the boy’s hair. “I’ll see you outside,” he said. “I’ll be going to the pond after, if you wanna come?”

  “No thanks.” David swung his legs to the side and got off the bed. “I wanna stay near mum today.”

  “Okay, little man.” Donald headed for the door and said, “’See you out there.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  He looked up to the perfect sky and cursed the sun that beat down on his exposed head. The only way of getting away from being burnt was to go into the woods, but he hated being in there. He had always preferred to be out in the open, walking the streets.

  Hando had reached a small village and could see that this little place called Burnside had only six houses, three on either side of the main road. If he continued to walk, he would have been out of the place in five minutes. It was probably the smallest place he had ever been to. There were just the six houses; no pub, school or shop. He was starving, so checking out the places was a must. He had had no luck in the last few houses he had been in, but had to try. He couldn’t remember the last time he had food. Four days ago? Maybe it was longer.

  Hando could see that all the main doors of the houses were closed. There were no vehicles on the drives of the houses, and he guessed that the people had either fled or the vehicles were stolen over the months.

  He approached the first house on the left and tried the main door. He was surprised when it opened and looked to see that it had been forced open. This made his heart sink, as he was convinced that the house had nothing of interest for him. He checked anyway.

  He went through the kitchen and didn’t even try the defunct fridge. The smell coming from it convinced him that there was nothing edible inside it. He decided to try the kitchen cupboards on his way out and now walked through the living room and went upstairs. The place smelt stale and desperately needed a window open, some fresh air.

  He reached the landing and could see all the doors to the bedroom were open. There was no presence in any of them. The house was empty.

  He released a sigh and went downstairs, ready to check the next place. He checked the kitchen cupboards but they were predictably bare. He slammed the last cupboard shut in anger and left the house. He stood outside the main door and closed his eyes, letting the wind caress his face. He had five more to check.

  He went to the next one and the main door had also been forced open. Hando was beginning to think that this was the scenario for all the houses and that maybe a gang had come here a while back and checked out the places.

  He went in, not expecting much, and the layout of the house was the same as the first one. As soon as Hando walked
into the house he was in the kitchen. Like before, he left the cupboards alone for the time being and checked out upstairs. It wasn’t just food and drink he was after; he was hoping for some kind of sports bag or rucksack. He didn’t have anything to put in the bag, but it was only a matter of time.

  Before his feet reached the landing, his nose screwed and his stomach twisted when he could smell death. He pulled his t-shirt up and over his nose, and went into the bedroom where he could hear the sound of flies buzzing.

  He stepped inside and could see a man and a woman lying on the carpet, near their beds. They were both fully clothed, the corpses weren’t that old. Their features were still visible and Hando guessed that the bodies were a few months old. It looked like the pair of them had been stabbed to death. Their bellies were covered in old blood and there were defensive marks on the hands of the woman.

  Somebody had come in and killed them. The only reason the couple had been killed was for the supplies that they had left. It must have been, Hando thought. Why else would you kill two people months into the apocalypse?

  He went downstairs and checked the kitchen cupboards before exiting the main door. They were also bare.

  Hando shook his head and went to the next house. Any excitement that he had had now evaporated after what he had witnessed in the last two houses.

  He tried the main door of the house, expecting this one to be open as well. It was, but this door hadn’t been forced open. There wasn’t a mark on the door, or at the side of it where the lock was.

  Hando kept his blades on his back, but had a funny feeling about this house. He stepped into the kitchen and could see that the place was immaculate. There wasn’t a sign of any dust or a left out dirty plate or cup.

  He went into the living room and had a quick scan before taking the stairs to the next floor. His boots reached the landing and the man checked the bedrooms one by one. Hando’s eyes clocked something in the corner of the room, and he could see a small bin that had an empty packet of crisps in it.

  The bathroom was the last room to check and the malnourished man was going to check the kitchen cupboards before leaving the premises. He had three more houses to check after this one.

  Something made him pause. He had no idea what it was, as he hadn’t heard anything, but he remained where he was and looked up to see the hatch of an attic.

  A small smile developed on his face and the man made his way downstairs with heavy feet, shut the door loudly as he went into the living room and then opened the main door and closed it again, but remained in the house. Hando then crept through the kitchen and into the living room and sat down on the sofa. His back was straight so that the blades didn’t dig into him, and he rested his hands on his thighs and waited patiently.

  A few minutes had passed and the man could hear gentle sounds, feet walking, above him. It sounded like the individual in the house, who must have been hiding in the attic, was now in the main bedroom.

  Minutes had passed and gentle noises could be heard making their way down the stairs, to the ground floor.

  Hando took in a breath and waited for the door to open. Once it did, a young and fresh face clocked Hando and gasped. The young man was a teenager. He was six feet in height, extremely thin with prominent cheekbones, and had short dark hair. There was very little facial hair present, and Hando put this down to his age.

  “Don’t worry, young brother,” Hando laughed. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

  The young man, only seventeen, was reluctant to step inside.

  “Let me ask you something, brother.”

  “What is it?” the nervous young man queried.

  “Why leave your door open?” Hando asked the boy.

  “To make strangers think that there’s nothing and nobody here,” the boy said.

  “Clever.” Hando nodded and managed a thin smile. “I like that.”

  “Obviously not clever enough.”

  “Hando.” The bald man smiled and offered the boy his hand.

  The boy stepped inside and walked over to Hando. He stared at his hand and shook it. “I’m Benny.”

  Benny sat in the chair opposite Hando, and looked to be nervous. He didn’t seem to be carrying a weapon, which Hando thought was very brave or very stupid. He couldn’t make up his mind.

  “Tell me your story, young man.” Hando smiled and waited patiently for a response from Benny.

  “Well...” The teenager struggled to respond. He didn’t know where to start.

  Hando told Benny to relax and take his time.

  “I suppose the day started the same as it did with everybody else,” Benny began. “We heard the news and stayed indoors. In fact, we managed to stay indoors for months before my dad decided to go out for supplies. He never came back.”

  “I’ve noticed there’re no cars on the drives.”

  “The people in four of the houses packed up their cars and left within the month.”

  “And your next door neighbours?”

  Benny shifted in his seat uncomfortably, and his body language suggested to Hando that the boy might have known about the murdered couple in the other house.

  “When it was just me and my mother, the man from next door came round and asked if we had anything for them. They had run out of food. We had a little left, but he became aggressive and they had a fight. He knocked my mum out with a single punch and took what we had left. He was too big and I was too scared to do anything.”

  “What a scumbag.” Hando shook his head and added, “And that was your neighbour?”

  Benny nodded. “We didn’t really know them that well. All I know is that their two sons were living in London.”

  “So where’s your mum now?”

  Benny dropped his head, and Hando knew immediately that his answer was going to be a sad one. He said, predictably, “Dead.”

  “How?”

  “That punch I was talking about...” Benny looked up and added, “She never got back up. He must have killed her, or the fall did.”

  “I’m sorry, brother.”

  Then Benny said something that Hando was not expecting. “After I buried my mum in the back garden,” young Benny began, “I snuck round to their house with a knife and a crowbar. I forced the door open and was ready for them to come storming down the stairs, but nothing happened. They had slept through it.”

  “So you killed them both?”

  Benny nodded. “I hit them over the head with the crowbar, stabbed them to death after it. They put up a bit of a fight and both were screaming and out of the bed, trying to grab me. I managed to put them down with a few more strikes and then stabbed them a few more times.”

  “Wow. That’s pretty heavy shit for a young lad.”

  “Maybe.” Benny hunched his shoulders. “Fuck ‘em. That man killed my mum and stole our food, which I took back.”

  “Wow.” Hando was still smiling and said, “Maybe you should go on the road and join me.”

  “I’ve been here since the first days,” Benny said. “Not too sure about me going out.”

  “The shelter here is fantastic,” Hando admitted. “But it’s no good if you’re starving to death. You have to earn your food these days. You have to find it, steal it, and sleep wherever you can.”

  “I’m okay.” Benny felt a little patronised. “I’ve put the dead down before. I have been out there when looking for food.”

  “Let me ask you a question.”

  “What?”

  “How much food have you got left?”

  “I have plenty of water,” Benny spoke defensively.

  “Any fool can filter a jar of water from a stream or a pond. I’m talking about food.”

  “Not much.” It took a while for Benny to answer, but when he did, he seemed embarrassed about the honest words that came out of his mouth. “Enough for another few days ... maybe.” He rolled his eyes and then hunched his shoulders.

  “I’ve got a proposition for you,” said Hando.

  “Oh?�
��

  “You killed those two next door, so I know you’d survive out there. How old are you? Seventeen? You’re mighty fearless for a seventeen-year-old.”

  “You’re waffling, Hando,” Benny said, and Hando admired the teenager’s balls for the way he spoke to him. Wazza, Dirty Ian and Q would never have spoken to him in that way. “What is this proposal?”

  “Let’s go for a walk. Get some air.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  A large pan was sitting on the stove with the fire underneath. Grace was boiling water for hot beverages and the rest of it was going to be used as drinking water. Yoler, Dicko and Gavin were sitting around the small fire, whilst Helen, David and Lisa Newton were in the cabin. Donald was at the pond, getting more water to be brought back and filtered. They had soup earlier, but Gavin could have eaten another bowl. The stomachs of all four were grumbling and their lunch earlier just hadn’t been enough.

  Yoler looked around at the three faces and could see that they all looked glum and despondent. Nobody had spoken a word in minutes.

  “We’re gonna have to do something about this,” Dicko moaned.

  Yoler looked up. She didn’t know what he was talking about, and going by the faces of Gavin and Grace, neither did they.

  “About what?” Yoler asked him.

  “I know we’re alive, and I know we have it better than most that are still breathing, but we can do better than this.”

  Dicko had paused, but Yoler remained quiet. She knew he had more to say.

  “Hiding in the woods, eating soup, and living next to a pond is great, but we’re gonna have to take risks eventually.”

  “Um...” Gavin cleared his throat. “What do you mean?”

  “Once the vegetables have run out, then what are we gonna do?”

  Gavin hunched his shoulders. “Hunt deer?”

  “When was the last time you saw a deer in these woods?” Dicko laughed. “And what would we hunt them with? Spears?”