Ghostland (Book 3): Ghostland 3

by Whittington, Shaun

  “I thought I heard a noise.” Dicko turned around and looked behind him. “I feel like I’m being watched.”

  “Come on,” Donald guffawed. “Let’s go back. My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.”

  “What?” Dicko looked at his companion, hoping he would elaborate on a saying he was unfamiliar with.

  Donald moaned, “I’m starving.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Next Day

  The morning passed by nonchalantly and most people spent the hours getting the fire prepared, all salivating at the idea of opening the tins that had been discovered by Dicko and Yoler. All had missed breakfast, apart from young David, and Helen, her son and Gavin had taken a trip to the pond for a quick wash and to collect a bucket of water.

  After lunch, some had decided to retreat to the cabin. Donald, Dicko and Yoler still sat around the smouldering fire, Gavin and Grace had gone for a walk in the woods and Helen, David and Lisa were in the cabin.

  “I didn’t want to mention this in front of David,” Dicko began, his eyes looking at Yoler and Donald.

  “But...?” Donald was annoyed by Dicko’s pause and tried to hurry him along.

  “But...” he sighed, “we saw one of those meat wagons on our travels.”

  Yoler decided to speak up. “The people got out and searched the street we were in. We killed them.”

  Donald’s eyes widened and he took a long slow breath out. “They were definitely cannibals? Not just survivors?”

  “Definitely.” Dicko produced a solitary and confident nod. “They tried to take someone from the street, and the back of the van was covered in ...well, you can imagine.”

  “The smell was pretty horrendous,” Yoler chipped in.

  Donald ran his hands over his face and queried, “And this was during the day?”

  “Yes,” said Dicko. “So next time you’re on the road and you hear as much as a rumble of an engine...”

  “I hide anyway,” Donald interjected. “Being charitable these days can get you killed.”

  “The trouble is,” Yoler began, “is that we don’t know whether that was the only van of theirs. It could be just the one, or there could be a fleet of them and an army of people.”

  “There’ll be gangs of survivors everywhere,” Donald sighed. “Look at us. And then there was an incident that I witnessed yesterday when I was out.”

  “What incident?” asked Dicko.

  “I heard engines, so I hid. Seconds later a biker gang went by. A few of them, you dig what I’m sayin’?”

  “How can people still find petrol for vehicles after a year?”

  “Dunno.” Donald laughed and ran the tip of his tongue along the front of his teeth. They desperately needed brushing. “But I’m convinced in a year or so we’ll all have to resort to horseback and bicycles.”

  Dicko leaned to the side and picked up a bottle of water that had been sitting there since last night. He took a swig from the bottle and winced as the liquid went down his throat. It didn’t taste the best, but he had had worse.

  “Look ... guys,” Donald began. “I...”

  Donald had paused but Yoler and Dicko waited for what he was going to say. They knew he had something on his mind and waited patiently for him to speak.

  Donald gulped, lowered his head and puffed out an anxious breath before saying, “I kind of came onto Helen the other day.”

  Yoler and Dicko looked at one another.

  “You ... kind of?” Yoler widened her eyes and elevated her eyebrows, waiting for a response.

  “I don’t know what came over me, I...”

  “Were you aggressive?” Yoler asked. “I noticed that there was a bit of an atmosphere between you and her this morning.”

  “Maybe I came onto her too strong,” Donald admitted and puffed out a depressed sigh and shook his head, still annoyed with himself. “It just got out of hand.”

  “Thinking with your dick,” Yoler jumped in. “Typical man.”

  “I wasn’t thinking with my dick. It’s more than that.”

  “Is it?”

  “I think I love her.”

  “You don’t love her, Donnie Boy. You’re just desperate to put your ding-a-ling inside her fairy cave.”

  Donald scowled at Yoler and shook his head. He couldn’t be bothered to argue with the woman. Sometimes Donald would think that he and Yoler were quite similar. Both of them could start an argument in an empty room.

  The door to the cabin opened and out stepped Helen Willis. She gave a smile to Dicko and Yoler, who returned the silent greeting, and walked towards the woods to their left.

  “Where are you escaping to?” Yoler tried to joke.

  “I need to get out of that cabin and out of this camp,” Helen huffed.

  “You want company?”

  “No thanks.”

  Helen walked through the cluster of trees, heading to the pond, and Donald turned and looked at Yoler, gesturing with his head to accompany her.

  “You heard the woman,” Yoler said. “She doesn’t want any company.”

  “But what she’s doing is dangerous.”

  “Sleeping in the cabin is dangerous, but we still do it.”

  Dicko stood up before an argument between Yoler and Donald took place, and brushed down his black jeans and checked his leather holster to make sure his six-inch blade with the D knuckle skull crusher was still there. “I’ll tell you what,” he spoke up. “I’ll go and check on her.”

  “Forget it.” Donald now got to his feet. “I’ll go. I need to apologise to her anyway.”

  Yoler shook her head and also stood up. “Not sure that’s a good idea, Donnie Boy.”

  Donald walked away from the defunct campfire and his two camp mates, and walked with brisk strides, heading in the same direction as Helen.

  Dicko took a step forwards, but Yoler told him to leave it.

  *

  Donald Brownstone exited the group of trees and was standing near the pond. Helen was at the other end, standing with her shoulders hunched. The field was behind her and the hill where the burnt out farmhouse sat. He stood still and looked at the farmhouse, revealing a thin but sad smile. He was never his biggest fan, but he thought about Simon Washington and his daughter, and then his mind wandered and he thought about his own son. He took a gulp and headed over to Helen. He had some humble pie to eat.

  Helen looked up as he approached, and on her face it was clear that she didn’t want to speak to him. He continued to approach her and she turned to walk away.

  “Helen!” Donald called out. “Speak to me!”

  She began to walk over the field and Donald began to jog over to her. He grabbed her arm and said, “Where the hell are you going?”

  Helen turned and slapped the man across his face.

  Donald, stunned, took a step back and was finding it hard to process what had just happened.

  “Just...” Helen bit her bottom lip and paused before saying, “Just leave me alone.”

  “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

  Helen was fighting back the tears and took in a long breath. She nodded gently and said, “Say what you have to say.”

  “What happened yesterday...” Donald gulped and struggled for words to finish off his sentence. “That wasn’t me. I don’t know what happened. We’ve known each other for a while now. You know I’ve never behaved like that before.”

  “You scared me yesterday.” Helen wiped her eyes and her face quivered with emotion. “I don’t think I can trust you again.”

  “Look, I’m really sorry. If there’s anything I can do...”

  Helen Willis put her hands on her hips and said, “Yes, actually, there is.”

  “What? I’ll do anything.”

  “I’m going to go back to the camp. And I don’t want to see your face for a while. And when you do come back, I want you to leave me the fuck alone.”

  It was a rare thing for Helen to swear and Donald was too shocked to react to Helen’s scolding.
Instead, he watched in silence as she stormed away from him, entering the trees, and making the short walk back to the camp. Donald tucked his lips in and rubbed the side of his face, still feeling the stinging sensation on his cheek.

  He felt like striking out, but instead he made a fist with his right hand and punched the palm of his left. “Idiot.”

  He exhaled sharply and decided, despite Helen stating that she didn’t want to see him anyway, to go for a walk. He needed to walk the stress off. He felt his pocket, to check that a knife was present, and began to walk across the field, through the long grass. He didn’t want to go too far. The further he went, the more dangerous it would be for him. Donald decided to go to the farmhouse, have a look around the place, and then make a slow walk back to the camp.

  Donald reached the hill and could feel the smarting in his thighs as he made the steep climb, his knees sometimes cracking as he made the slow arduous climb.

  Once he got to the top of the hill, he turned his back on the ruined farmhouse and sat his backside down and had to rest. He brought his knees up to his chest and dropped his head, resting it on his knees and trying to get his breath back.

  Donald Brownstone quickly moved to tears as his mind cast back to years ago, when life was normal, when his son was still alive. He cleared his throat, wiped his eyes, and got to his feet. He turned to his left and saw the two graves of father and daughter, Simon and Imelda Washington. He went over to the two graves and stared at them with sadness. A minute later, he turned and headed for the back door of the house and wondered whether he should walk in.

  He placed his hand on the door handle, but changed his mind and released his hand off the doorknob.

  He walked around to the side of the house, where the damaged Mazda sat, and reached the front of the place. He walked out onto the main road and could see it was clear both ways.

  He was so annoyed with himself and began to pace the road, going back and forth, muttering expletives. This occurred for minutes and once he looked up, he saw something that he didn’t notice before. He stopped moving and could see a van in the distance. It was large, white, and before he could take a step forwards to investigate, he felt a blow to the back of his head.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Gavin and Grace strolled through the woods, talking about old times. Gavin told Grace that he missed watching football, whereas Grace said that she would give her left arm to spend a day listening to music on her iPhone. He turned and smiled at Grace. She noticed this and asked what was wrong.

  “Nothing is wrong.” He shook his head. “I just...”

  “What?”

  “I like you.” Gavin could feel himself quiver with fright after saying those three words. “I mean ... I really like you.”

  “Me too.” Grace smiled and held out her hand. Gavin took it and their hands clasped together.

  “Probably the last thing we should be thinking about or getting ourselves into,” said Gavin. “We’ve both recently lost our sisters, we live in an apocalyptic world and could die any day. Shouldn’t really be getting close to anyone really.”

  “The world may have changed,” Grace began, “and people may have changed, but we still have feelings. You said that we live in an apocalyptic world and die any day, but that was still the case years ago. People could die any day back then. I had a friend at school who died in her sleep from heart failure. She was fourteen.”

  Gavin stopped walking and Grace did the same. They both looked at one another and went in for the kiss. A minute later, they pulled their faces away from one another and both beamed.

  “We better go back,” Grace said. “Before we do something stupid.”

  “I could live with that.” Gavin leaned in for another kiss on her lips.

  “I’m sure you could,” Grace giggled. “But I don’t think getting pregnant is a great idea in this world we’re living in at the moment. I certainly don’t want to get pregnant, and my mum isn’t quite ready to be a grandmother.”

  “We could do other things.” Gavin quickly elevated his eyebrows and his smile grew wider.

  Grace opened her mouth to say something, but a noise to their right alerted the pair of them. Both stared at where the noise was coming from, but neither spoke or moved. Gavin took Grace’s hand and they slowly made their way, with gentle strides, back to the camp.

  “Careful,” Gavin warned softly. “Try not to stand on any twigs or make any other kind of noise.”

  “What do you think it is?” Grace asked in a whisper.

  Gavin shook his head. “Dunno. Could be an animal, a Canavar... anything. I’d rather not find out.”

  “But it might come to the camp, whatever it is.”

  “I know. Need to tell the others.” Gavin cleared his throat, still holding onto Grace’s hand and moved through the bracken. “Let’s hope that whatever it is ends up falling in that ditch.”

  Both gasped when more noises could be heard and a fox darted to their side. Grace gasped and then released a laugh.

  “Fuck’s sake.” Gavin smiled and shook his head. “What a pair of idiots.”

  “Come on,” Grace urged Gavin. “Let’s go back anyway.”

  “Okay,” Gavin sighed.

  *

  Yoler sat on the steps of the cabin and watched as Lisa Newton and Dicko were sitting down with young David, telling him watered down stories about their journey over the last year. David had asked the question and both adults were taking their turn on telling him. Not only was David learning about where they came from, but Lisa was learning about Dicko’s background and vice versa. Occasionally the two adults would look up and smile at each other, making Yoler a little jealous. Lisa wasn’t as good looking as Yoler, but she was still attractive and was of a similar age to Dicko, and both had lost children, so they had a lot in common.

  A noise could be heard to the left and Yoler took a peek and saw Helen coming through the trees, but there was no Donald.

  Helen walked over to her son and kissed him on the top of his head, then made her way over to the cabin. Yoler shuffled over, giving Helen room to sit next to her, and the two gazed over at David and the two adults, still talking.

  “No Donald?” Yoler asked Helen.

  “He’s gone for a walk.” Helen sniffed and lifted her head.

  “He said he was going to apologise.”

  “And he did, but I just can’t look at him anymore. He gives me the creeps.”

  “Look,” Yoler released a sigh. “You know me and Donnie Boy have hardly been bosom buddies, but he did really look cut up earlier on.”

  Helen never said a word.

  Yoler continued, “You two not getting on is not good for the camp.”

  “I know.”

  “Maybe in time you guys can be friends again, in a couple of weeks or so.”

  “I doubt it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Donald staggered forwards once he received the blow, but it wasn’t enough to knock him out. He was dizzy, his head was smarting, but he was still conscious. He turned around to see a man of average height, no older than thirty, standing with a baseball bat in his hand, now looking very nervous.

  Another man from a distance began to jog his way and another individual, this time a female, appeared from the front of the van with a hammer in her right hand.

  “So you’re the cannibals people have been talking about,” Donald snorted. There was no response from either of them. All simply remained silent as they hesitantly made slow steps towards Brownstone. He was almost surrounded.

  Donald rubbed his head, winced, and casually put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a steak knife. The three continued to advance, but there was concern on the face on the man with the bat now that Donald had produced a blade.

  Without warning, the man from behind him, who also had a knife, ran at Donald. Donald turned and swiped his blade, catching the man in the face. The man fell to the floor, screaming and clutching his face. His left cheek had been slash
ed open. The baseball bat wielding man brought the bat back and ran at Donald, screaming at the top of his voice. Donald jumped out of the way when the bat came crashing down and swiped at the man’s face, but missed by inches. The female stood motionless and Donald could see that she was the driver of the vehicle as she had the keys in her left hand.

  The bat swiped again at Donald, missing him by half a foot, and the third strike from the man produced cataclysmic results for himself. Donald stepped forwards and rammed his blade into the throat of his attacker. With the knife still embedded, the man staggered backwards and collapsed to the floor. Donald looked up coldly at the woman and began to advance as her two male colleagues were lying on the road, bleeding over the tarmac. One was injured; the other was dying and had seconds left to live.

  She released a caterwaul and swung the hammer at the man, catching him on the shoulder. Donald brought the back of his left hand back and caught the woman in the face. She hit him again, this time in his side, taking the wind out of his lungs. Donald staggered back as his female assailant continued to lash out and took another blow to the side of his face. The world span and Donald’s legs went to jelly as he stumbled to the floor. He put his hands in front of him as he fell and his vision was similar to a drunk. He looked up and could see the woman slowly approaching.

  She had a hard face, tied back ginger hair, and her teeth had been neglected, like most folk. Donald winced and shut his eyes tight, then opened them again, trying to regain some kind of focus. She stood next to him and he swung his right leg, making the woman shriek, taking her legs away from her. She hit the ground and dropped the hammer, and Donald struggled to get to his feet. He stood up, like a man on a boat in turbulent waters, and could hardly focus because of the blows he had taken.

  He swung his boot at the woman as she tried to get to her feet, and caught her in the stomach. She coughed and fell flat on the floor. Donald bent over and picked up the hammer from the ground, almost falling over with the dizziness, and brought it down, hitting the woman in the middle of her spine.