The Monsterland Trilogy [Books 1-3]

by Whittington, Shaun

  He thought about the noise from behind the door that occurred more than half an hour ago and the yelp. He had no idea what it was sniffing around the cabin, but hoped that it was now gone.

  He opened the door and peered out. The daylight made his eyes scrunch and shrink, like putting salt on a slug, and stepped into the wooded area, relieved that his eyes could spot no danger.

  The area looked clear.

  He went outside and lifted his legs higher than he normally would when walking, making sure he was creating as little noise as possible. His paranoia was making his heart gallop once more and his breathing was becoming quicker than he would have liked.

  The teenager had made good progress and could see that the woods were thinning up ahead, telling him that he was near the main road, but he stopped moving once he heard a snarling to his left.

  The young man turned and could see a black Labrador, struggling in the bracken. Junior took a step forwards and could see that the dog was stuck in an animal coil trap that must have been set by poachers many moons ago. Initially, he felt sorry for the poor mutt.

  He took another step forwards and jumped when the canine snarled and salivated as if it was rabid. Junior crouched down as the dog continued to gnash and growl. He was confident that the snare was preventing the dog from going anywhere, and took a closer look to see that it had wounds on its back leg.

  It looked like the poor thing had been attacked, and Junior took another look at the dog’s rage-filled face and then back at the wounds again. It was infected. He was sure of it. He didn't even know if it was possible, but he was certain that the animal was now infected just like the Runners. It must have been attacked by one of them and had escaped, not knowing that it was already fucked anyway.

  “You poor thing.”

  He stood up and looked around the woodland, hoping to come across a heavy branch lying on the ground, but he found something better. A boulder. The boulder, the size of a person's head, lay up against a tree a few yards away, and Junior went over to see if it was possible to lift it. He crouched down and put his fingers underneath and lifted. It was heavy, but he could hold it for a few seconds.

  He staggered over to the dog, carrying the boulder, and placed the rock on the floor to give himself a rest. He was only a metre from the canine and decided to wait for a minute, then he was going to lift the thing and drop it on the dog's head.

  He released a heavy puff and lifted the rock, and stood at the side of the canine that was wriggling and hopelessly trying to take a bite out of him. The dog was infected; it wasn't crying or whining, so this made it easier for the teenager to do what he had to do.

  He held the heavy stone above the head of the dog and dropped it. He never looked down once the boulder hit the skull. There was no need. It had stopped wriggling and gnashing, and Junior knew that the dog's skull had been caved in.

  Junior walked away. He had had enough.

  He was going back to the caravan.

  *

  Gordon walked around the inside of the stone house and peered out of the windows for any sign of the lone Runner. It appeared to be clear.

  Gordon Burns returned to the living room where Joan and Walter were sitting, and clapped his hands together and said, “Right, Joan. We better go.”

  “Is it clear out?” she asked.

  “It appears so.”

  “See,” Walter spoke up and grinned at Gordon, “I told you it'd go away, if you're quiet enough, didn't I?”

  Gordon never responded to Walter and turned away.

  Joan nodded and rose to her feet. She shook Walter's hand. “Thanks for the tea.”

  He peered at the woman and smiled. “Anytime, darling.”

  “Take care of yourself, Walter.”

  “You too,” he said. “And if you get bored of that weedy guy and want to hop on my pogo stick, on the old pork sword, and be with a real man...”

  Joan laughed, “I'll keep it in mind.”

  Walter's rude comment never bothered Joan. It would have bothered her if Marvin had said such a thing, but she hated Marvin. Unlike Gordon, Joan had a soft spot for the old man that she had known for such a short time.

  Gordon unbolted and opened the main door and peered out. He stepped outside and Joan followed him, waving at Walter as she left. He waved back and watched as she shut the door behind her.

  The two adults walked down the path that led out onto the country road and both turned left. Joan was taking no chances and had pulled her blade out. Gordon was also holding his claw hammer. There were fields to either side of them, but bends in the country road prevented them from being able to see very far ahead, putting the pair of them on high alert.

  “As soon as we get near the campsite,” Gordon said softly, “we'll take a quick look down the canal, then one more check around the caravan site before we go back to ours.”

  Joan nodded.

  “There's nothing else we can do.”

  “I know,” said Joan. “He's a little shit.”

  The pair of them made the rest of the journey in silence and once they were near the site, Gordon and Joan turned right and went down a hill where the canal was. The two of them reached the bank and could see the almost-straight canal that they had walked along a few days before, when leaving Blanchland.

  They could see no sign of anyone along the canal. They knew that checking the caravan site was their last option before going back to their place and waiting for Lloyd and Marvin.

  They left the canal and eventually entered the site.

  “So what now?” Joan looked to Gordon. “Check round the caravan site again, then back to our place?”

  “Nothing much else we can do.” Gordon smiled and added, “Lloyd's gonna go off his pissing head when he comes back.”

  “I know,” said Joan, “but it's not our fault. He just fucked off.”

  “Try telling him that. You've heard him yourself, haven't you? Junior's the only reason why he still keeps going.”

  “Just wait and see what happens. There's still a chance Junior might turn up before they get back.”

  As predicted, the area was clear. They had checked the shed, the perimeter, and had peered into every caravan. Junior was nowhere to be seen.

  They began to make their way back to their own place and Joan said to Gordon, “That's it then.”

  “Yep.” Gordon groaned, “Lloyd is gonna go off his tits.”

  “They should be back anytime soon.”

  “Great. I'm gonna get a slap for sure.”

  “I was supposed to be looking after him as well, you know.”

  Gordon sighed, “I know.”

  Gordon opened the door to the caravan and stepped inside first. Joan went in after him and could see that Gordon was stressed out. He was now standing over by the dining table and had his head in his hands.

  “You okay?” Joan tittered and put her arm around the man.

  “Not really,” Gordon said. “Being in the apocalypse and babysitting, very badly, a hormonal teenager, isn’t my idea of fun. Not a great day, is it?”

  “I know what could make you feel better,” she said with a smirk, and stepped over to him.

  “What's that?”

  Joan began to rub Gordon's crotch and he moaned, “This is hardly the time.”

  “Really?” She continued to rub and Gordon wasn't putting up much of a fight. “You seem to be getting hard.”

  She unzipped his jeans, pulled them down to his ankles and put her hand in his shorts and began to stroke him.

  “Er…” Gordon couldn’t find any words.

  “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  “Is that better?”

  “Yes,” he moaned.

  She began to kiss his neck, then stroked him faster, forcing more groans from Gordon.

  “I'm nearly there,” he moaned.

  Joan quickened her speed and could feel Gordon tensing up.

  She turned to the side and watched as he came. She conti
nued to tug on his penis and slowed down her speed when Gordon's moans were getting lower and less frequent.

  “Yuk.” She looked down to see some of his release on her hand and said, “I better clean up.” She nodded to the floor. “And you better as well.”

  Gordon snickered and turned around, his jeans round his ankles and his cock sticking out of his shorts that was dripping onto the floor.

  “Pass me some of that kitchen towel,” he said to Joan.

  She did as she was told, and Gordon quickly wiped himself and screwed the towel up in his hand.

  He looked up, and then released a shriek and began to frantically pull his jeans up.

  “What is it?” Joan had wiped her hands on a tea-towel and placed it into the bin that was situated under the sink. She went over to Gordon and looked in the same direction he was looking at.

  She gasped and placed her hand over her mouth. “Junior?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lloyd and Marvin were near. The battered vehicle approached the entrance of the caravan site and made a left.

  “Home sweet home,” said Lloyd with a smile.

  He pulled up the damaged jeep outside his caravan and looked past Marvin. He tried to see over to Gordon and Joan's place.

  “I hope Junior's behaved,” Lloyd sighed softly.

  Marvin never responded and left the vehicle and went round the back and began to unload it.

  Lloyd stepped out of the vehicle and called over to Marvin, “I'll be with you in a minute. I just wanna go over and see how Junior is.”

  “Don't worry about this,” said Marvin. “I'll get the supplies. You go over and see your kid.”

  Lloyd thanked his brother for his out-of-character nice behaviour, and began to stroll over to Gordon's caravan. He knocked the door and stated who he was before entering, just in case they got a fright.

  Lloyd walked in and they could see Gordon, Joan and Junior, all standing in the kitchen.

  Lloyd knew that something was wrong. It took Joan and Gordon a while to greet Lloyd, and Junior's hug for his father was also belated. Once Lloyd broke away from the embrace, he said to his son, “Everything okay?”

  Junior nodded.

  Lloyd looked over to Joan and Gordon. “Did I miss much?”

  “Not much,” Joan lied. “How did you get on? Any trouble?”

  “We managed to get some stuff,” Lloyd said. “We did run into some trouble, but we managed ... just about.”

  “Get much food?” Joan asked.

  Lloyd nodded. “We've decided to put the food into our caravan.” He looked over to Joan and Gordon. “I hope that's okay.”

  “Sure.” Joan nodded. “Why not?”

  “We got some tins and...” Lloyd began and then paused. “You know what? Come and have a look.”

  Lloyd stepped out of the caravan and urged the other three to follow him. Marvin could be seen lifting the last of the supplies into their place.

  Gordon stepped out and asked, “What the fuck happened to the jeep?”

  “Like I said before,” Lloyd said with a smile. “We had some trouble.”

  “It's a fucking mess.”

  “It was unavoidable.”

  Marvin returned from inside the caravan and said, “That's it. That's everything inside.”

  Lloyd smiled. “Cheers, bro.”

  Lloyd put his arm around Junior and both father and son went into their digs. Marvin looked up to the blue sky and squinted up at the sun.

  Gordon decided to try and be pleasant and asked Marvin, “How did you get on? Any close calls?”

  “No more than usual,” said Marvin.

  “It's great that you got so much food.”

  Marvin nodded in agreement. “Not too sure how long it'll last with five mouths to feed. What do we do when it runs out? Where do we go? Do we have to go to the cities, larger towns?”

  “Probably best not to think about it just now,” Joan decided to join in on the conversation. “Who knows—?”

  “Don't go there, sister.” Marvin stopped Joan's momentum. “Let's not go into that whole maybe the government will intervene bollocks. It's not going to happen.”

  “Fine,” she huffed.

  “Anyway, how are you?” Marvin leaned against the battered vehicle and smirked at Joan. “Did you miss me?”

  “Mmm.” Joan feigned thought and shook her head. “No, not really.”

  “I'm going back inside,” Gordon moaned, knowing that Marvin was going back to his old self. He didn’t want to stand about and listen to Marvin’s crap.

  “I'll be right there,” said Joan. “I'm going to grab a few items from Lloyd’s place and bring them over.”

  Joan went over to Lloyd's caravan and asked if she could have a small box of goods. Minutes later, she exited the caravan with a box of goodies and could see Marvin was still leaning against the badly damaged vehicle.

  “Come to take our hard-earned food,” Marvin derided with a smirk.

  “We're a team,” snapped Joan. “Me and Gordon also get our hands dirty, in case you've forgotten.”

  Joan didn't want to bite. She knew he was trying to wind her up, and it seemed to be working. She was angry with herself for reacting, but he rubbed her up the wrong way.

  Marvin stood up straight and moved away from the Hyundai jeep that had seen better days, and strolled over to Joan. He stopped in front of her, stopping the woman from progressing any further forwards, and flashed Joan an unnerving smile.

  Marvin could see that Joan had her hands full and reached down and cupped her inbetween her legs. “I think it's about time me and you fucked, don't you think?”

  Joan could feel tears filing her eyes and never responded.

  Marvin sneered, “Well? What do you say?”

  “You’re a pathetic little man, aren’t you?” she spat, her face quivering with rage.

  “You never answered my question.”

  Joan gulped and fought back the tears.

  “Remove your hand,” Joan said with her teeth clenched. She was still holding the box of food and trying to remain calm on the outside, despite the assault.

  Marvin kept his hand where it was and began stroking Joan with his middle finger. “Is that a no?”

  Joan glared at Marvin with murderous eyes, making the vile man snicker. He removed his hand, very slowly, and took a step back.

  He watched as Joan turned around and headed back to her caravan.

  “See you soon, Joan.” Marvin began to laugh.

  Joan Burnley was proud of herself for not losing it with that piece of shit; however, she walked to her caravan with tears still in her eyes.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Gordon could clearly see that Joan was upset when she stepped inside their place with the box of food. Gordon asked if she was okay, but she ignored him. Her eyes were wet-looking and her face looked red with rage. She placed the box down on the dining table and went to one of the bedrooms.

  Gordon stood and pondered, wondering what was the best thing to do. Should he see how she is or leave her be?

  He had a clue why she was upset. It could only be two things: The apocalyptic situation they were in or ... Marvin Dickinson.

  He guessed the latter.

  Gordon stood for a further fifteen seconds and then came to the decision that he was going to see how Joan Burnley was. He approached the bedroom door, trying to be as quiet as possible, and placed his ear against it, listening out if she was crying.

  He couldn't hear a thing.

  “I know you're standing there,” he heard Joan say from behind the door.

  Gordon smiled and apologised before saying, “I just wanted to know if you're alright.”

  She sarcastically responded, “Never fucking better.”

  “What's wrong?”

  “Take a guess.”

  She didn't need to say anything further. Gordon knew that Marvin had upset her. He seemed to pick mainly on women.

  “Can I come in?” he asked.
>
  “If you want.” Joan’s voice lacked enthusiasm.

  Gordon opened the door and could see that Joan was sitting at the end of the bed; she looked teary, but no tears had fallen yet.

  “You shouldn't let him get to you,” Gordon sighed and sat next to her on the bed.

  “Easy for you to say,” she snapped.

  “What's that saying?” Gordon thinned his eyes and began to think. “Oh yes: Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.”

  “Well, that's a load of bollocks. Names will never hurt me? So, are you telling me homophobia and racism is blown out of proportion?”

  “Okay.” Gordon nodded. “Maybe an old English nursery rhyme wasn't the best example to use.”

  “Anyway, I can handle his name calling and insults,” said Joan.

  “No, you can't,” Gordon laughed.

  “It's being assaulted that has put me in this state.”

  “Assaulted?” Gordon straightened his back and Joan looked to see that the man was engulfed with rage. “What do you mean ... assaulted? What did he do?”

  “He just came out with his usual bollocks. Then he cupped me.”

  “Cupped you?” Gordon exclaimed. “Didn't you smack him?”

  “I was too shocked to do anything, and I had my hands full anyway with that box.” Joan shook her head and a single tear fell from each eye. “This situation is bad enough, but why did we have to hook up with this prick?”

  “He's a dick. There's no doubt about it.”

  “A dick?” Joan scoffed. “He's a cunt. I hate the bloke.”

  “I'm pissing sick of this, sick of him,” Gordon said, and took a step towards the bedroom door.

  “Where are you going?” asked Joan.

  “I'm gonna sort the prick out.”

  “Gordon, don't take this the wrong way, but you don't come across as a man that can beat another man up.”

  “What?” Gordon felt insulted, but knew Joan had a point. He could count on one hand how many fights he had in his lifetime. “Just you fucking watch me.”

  Gordon stormed out of the bedroom and headed for the main door. Joan called after him, but by the time she had opened her mouth he had already left the caravan.