Parasite ; Sleeper Cells ; Kingdoms of the Dead

by Ian Woodhead

  Zombies! Vampires! Monsters! Oh my!

  Kingdoms of the Dead – Zombies!

  Sleeper Cells – Vampires!

  Parasite – Monsters!

  Kingdoms of the Dead

  Book One – Chemical Rot

  By Ian Woodhead

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright February 2014 by Ian Woodhead

  Edited by Monique Happy

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, scanning or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.

  Please visit me here: https://www.facebook.com/Ian.Woodhead.Author

  Prologue

  He slid the tip of his forefinger down the monitor, cutting his younger brother’s frozen face in half. Ishmael-el-Siddique had never been given the opportunity to say goodbye, as all communication from the planet had ceased ten days ago. He gazed through the thick glass window down at the surface hundreds of miles below. The citystates were dying, their lights extinguishing one by one. His citystate burned, as did its neighbors. How long would it be before all of the planet’s lights went out? Ishmael-el-Siddique flicked the play switch and listened to his brother thanking him for the photograph, and how excited and privileged he must feel about being the first man from the North Arabia Citystate to reach space. He turned off the recording before his foolish brother recited his stupid verse about how the citystates from space were like a million fireflies, frozen in time.

  Why was he even wasting such time on this sentimental nonsense? An officer in the North Arabian Rocket battalion should not allow the trivialities of family bonds to impede his duty to protect his citystate from her enemies.

  Yet how could he fight an enemy that he did not understand? His weapons platform passed over another continent. His view showed him more citystates, each one in the same situation. Only one rectangular block of white light showed no signs of conflict. Could this be his enemy?

  Ishmael-el-Siddique’s fingers glided over the control switches that gave him access to the fifteen nuclear-tipped Dragonfire missiles already prepped and ready to fire. The codes had been released when the North Arabian Citystate’s primary communications went offline. He could fire at any target at will.

  The urge to lock every one of those missiles on that strange area of light gripped him hard. Just to do something, no matter how pointless. Deep down he knew that this catastrophe wouldn’t be their problem; unlike the other citystates, their forces must be better equipped to deal with this unknown terror. That must be the only reason for their continued survival.

  The weapons platform passed over the surviving citystate and zeroed in on what was left of his home region. He despaired at the sight as he saw that the Persian Empire had ceased to exist. All the zones within their vast fortified boundary now burned.

  He ejected the plastic recording block containing his brother’s last message and pushed in the last block that he’d recorded before the shouts for help turned into inhuman screams. Ishmael-el-Siddique listened once more to his immediate commander spouting out his lies about the dead not staying dead, about the corpses attacking and eating the flesh of the living.

  The North Arabian officer slammed his fist down on the device, cutting off the recording in mid-sentence. He refused to listen to such foolishness. Ishmael-el-Siddique watched as the lights from citystates continued to snuff out, until only one light was left blazing upon the dark surface.

  One single firefly refused to die.

  Chapter One

  His pursuer took great care not to snag his uniform jacket as he squeezed through the gap between the two columns of packing crates. Kenny Nelson dropped to the floor, hoping that he hadn’t been spotted. He crawled over to the remains of a mattress. The cramp spreading down his left leg let him know he wouldn’t be outrunning an armed constable. Cramp … who would have thought the dead would be burdened with such pain?

  He pushed his face against the tattered fabric, focusing on the stinking wet stench filling his nostrils rather than the sour reek of his body odor, the dull pain in his leg, or the rising sound of those heavy bootsteps.

  Even after four long, miserable years, Kenny’s mind and body wouldn’t allow him to forget his impossible resurrection. Of all the millions of souls the plague of death had taken, Kenny believed that only he had risen with his humanity hanging by a thread.

  Right now, his thread had frayed to the point of snapping. If he didn’t get his injection, Kenny’s joints would stiffen and the cold would grip his body, and this time the sickness would not release him. He’d be dead for sure this time. After that, there would be no stopping that urge to bite into sweet human meat.

  The scraping of metal against stone jolted Kenny back into the present. His fevered mind took a moment to orientate. Although the sensation of zoning out lingered, he retained enough sense not to laugh at the approaching figure despite his comical appearance.

  The city’s founders had made these people. The position of civilian constable drew nasty fuckers like this clown like flies to a shitty blanket. They only had one purpose, to track down and ‘deal’ with any worker suspected of denying their body the drug that kept them from turning.

  To any sane person, the prospect of actually wanting to change into some walking bag of rotting meat bent on the single purpose of consuming human flesh should fill their minds with horror.

  Kenny took his eyes off the straggly youth and looked at his decrepit surroundings, Most of the outerzones looked just like this alleyway; greys and browns dominated the built-up landscape. The smell of unwashed bodies, combined with the stench of discarded garbage, stung his nostrils. Their world reeked of regret, debris, and despair. There weren’t many sane people in Kenny’s life. The ones he saw kept their heads down whilst eking out a living the best they could.

  Some of them did allow the process to accelerate. Their lives had no meaning. For them, the change couldn’t come quick enough. If only the constables sought out these lost human souls instead of going after people like him.

  That would never happen; those bastards received a cash bonus for every suspected worker they stopped. Why go after the ones that matter when any harmless vagrant would do just as well? It’s not like they could prove that their victims weren’t infected, considering everyone had that vile muck running through their veins.

  Not only did this fucker have a rusted blade in his hand, the bastard also carried a portable scanner. Kenny found his fingers reaching up to the branded lines on his forehead and forced his hand back down.

  No way could he allow the constable to swipe that hateful machine over his mark of shame. Even if he did give this one the slip, there’d be yet another one of them on his tail. Those bastards enjoyed hunting down the marked ones. It made their life so much easier when the bounties could be tracked down. He’d be dead in an hour.

  He rolled onto his other side and looked down the length of the darkened alley. Would he be able to reach those metal drums without the constable spotting his fleeing form and opening fire?

  Why did he allow such dangerous notions to tempt his exhausted body? Of course he wouldn’t get to the end of the alley without that bastard blowing a hole in his back. If Kenny did reach the other side, somebody in the square would spot him. Even from this distance, he saw the lurid images displayed on one of the city’s streetscreens. There would be somebody hangi
ng around, watching it. There always were one or two glassy-eyed losers staring up at the building-sized screen, broadcasting an endless supply of twisted game shows.

  If that fucker didn’t have the scanner, Kenny, by rights, shouldn’t have been too concerned over the sudden appearance of a lone constable. Like everyone else in the walled capital city, Kenny was supposed to keep his tired body supplied with the essential drug that kept him from changing. Thanks to his current misfortune though, the only way of getting his regular supply was to visit a medi-center, to allow one of the ‘so-called’ nurses to inject him. Kenny rubbed his forehead again. It had been two weeks since he’d last visited one of those hellish places. Kenny got his drug from other means now.

  Kenny ran his tongue along his cracked lips, watching his pursuer stop to scratch his nose. The constable didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry to root him out. Maybe he just wanted to … lunging forward, he wrapped his hand around what, at first, looked like a pile of discarded clothing.

  The constable had stumbled upon a sleeping vagrant. Was he a stray medi-center deserter, like Kenny? The constable shook the vagrant, like a dog shaking a rabbit, before dropping him on the ground. Kenny squeezed his eyes shut, his tiny groan lost under the gunshot. Unable to stop himself, Kenny groaned again. The bastard didn’t even scan the poor man’s forehead.

  The spluttering noise issuing from Kenny wasn’t just due to him witnessing that execution; his last supply of drugs keeping death at bay were wearing off. The cold was already creeping into his body. If he survived detection for the next few minutes, Kenny wouldn’t give a fuck about hiding from some teenage government constable. He wouldn’t care that his sister was supposed to be rushing back with a fresh supply of Beldazine. All Kenny would care about was closing his jaws around that bastard’s neck and ripping off pieces of his soft flesh.

  Kenny’s foot rebelled against the cramp in a spasm, knocking his leg against a rusting tin can. The constable jerked his head away from the bloodied rags by his feet, staring at where Kenny cowered behind the mattress.

  The dim yellow glow coming from the old streetlight above them allowed Kenny to see a nasty smile spread slowly across the uniformed bastard’s face.

  The constable teased, “Come on out. You don’t have to be scared of me. I ain’t gonna hurt you. Look, I know you’re in there.”

  Kenny tried to resist the ice crystallizing in his blood. There was still a chance that his sister would come back. He couldn’t give up.

  “Look, I haven’t got all night, you know. I know what you want. I have loads of the stuff.” He gripped his belt. “It’s medicinally pure as well. I bet it’s been a long time since you’ve shot-up with anything this good. Come on, friend. Out you get. You know I only want to take care of you.”

  Kenny formed a tight fist, feeling his ragged nails dig into his palm; the pain helped his mind resist those hypnotic words.

  Oh God. It would be effortless to let go, to give in to the disease, Even now, Kenny felt the cold dead minds of the others out there so eager for him to join their ranks. There weren’t that many of the true walking dead left within their walled city, not any more. But there were enough of them out there to have the strength to scratch at his thoughts, eager for him to join their number.

  That constable wouldn’t stand a chance if Kenny did turn. He wasn’t fooled by the youth’s posturing; he was no more than a kid. Too young to have gone up against any of the risen in the initial outbreak, and he probably wouldn’t have been around during the purge that followed a few years later.

  The city’s founders wouldn’t waste any of their security forces to search around the filthy back alleys, poking through refuse for runaways. Kenny was betting the little bastard had never gone up against a single living corpse in all of his miserable life.

  Kenny didn’t want to bite anyone, not even a constable. He just wanted his old life back. Was that too much to ask? A single tear ran down his cheek as he watched the kid pull the other body out from its hiding place. Kenny saw a lot of blood, but somehow the constable hadn’t killed the other stray. He noticed movement in its legs. The constable then slammed the butt of his rifle down on the body. Kenny winced at the sound of cracking bones.

  “I’m rapidly losing patience here. It’s simple. If you don’t show your scabby diseased face in the next ten seconds, I’ll just shoot off a few rounds into those crates. You know that I can take you back either dead or alive … I’m giving you a chance here.”

  Only the sight of food, the smell of fresh human flesh occupied what was left of Kenny’s mind. He stood up, distantly wondering where the ache had gone. Even that thought vanished when he heard the strong thumping heart pumping all that hot, sweet blood through that body.

  Lurching forward, Kenny saw the constable’s expression transform from menace to terror. He was faintly aware of noises—footsteps behind him. But nothing mattered now, apart from getting to his food—to feast on the flesh, to fill …

  He yelped as something sharp jabbed the back of his neck. Kenny fell to his knees, and the constable dropped to the ground as if joining him in prayer.

  Kenny heard distorted noises, like people shouting underwater. He gritted his teeth. It was like a fire coursing through his body. All that stopped him from falling forward was the constable kneeling in front of him, his eyes staring at something behind Kenny. His mind was a maze of flashing lights and buzzing static which were evicted by the reality of an exploding boom.

  The top of the man’s head disappeared in a cloud of red mush, and the constable fell forward with grey and red lumps spilling from his skull.

  “Are you with me, Kenny? Come on, say something!” Was the voice real?

  Kenny lifted his arm and groaned at the dull ache that accompanied the movement. He grabbed at the back of his neck and tugged, pulling out a small syringe. Kenny started to cry; he felt arms circle his chest.

  “I’m so sorry that it took so long, Kenny.” The voice was real! It was Diane, his sister. “You have no idea how hard it was to get you a ration in time.”

  “Thank you,” Kenny said softly.

  “Come on, you. We need to get away from here. We need to …” Diane’s voice ended with a strangled squeak.

  Kenny spun around and found the cold barrel of a shotgun pressed hard against his forehead, and heard a dark voice saying, “So, you’re the big brother. I expected something a little more impressive. You don’t strike me as being enough for this sweet little girl to be offering me everything she’s got to keep you alive.”

  A well-built blonde man stared down at Kenny. “Hello there, my little grave-monkey.” The man smiled, displaying a mouthful of pure white teeth. With his hard brown eyes, the stranger looked like a shark. Kenny then noticed the uniform, the sergeant stripes on the constable’s uniform. No way could this muscle-bound gorilla be part of the constabulary. This fucker reeked of power. Alarm bells rang in Kenny’s head. The face looked very familiar.

  “Oh, you don’t have to worry about my uniform, you grave-monkey. I just use this to get around this part of the city without any of my adoring fans from noticing me.” The man crouched down. “Now, I know that shot you just got is making you feel like you want to go flying through the clouds, but I need you to focus. This next bit is important.”

  Kenny was nodding. He didn’t feel all that bad now.

  “This is a booster shot,” said the big guy, shaking his long blond hair and waving another syringe back and forth. “If you don’t get this one, your high will only last a few more minutes. Do you want it, my little grave-monkey?”

  “Oh God, yes please.” Kenny’s eyes couldn’t stop following the amber fluid as it gleamed in the murky light.

  “Are you sure you want this? There’ll be no backing out.” He waved the syringe in front of Kenny’s eyes. “I’ll own you and you’ll do whatever my black heart desires.”

  Kenny first shot was already going flat. “I got it! Give me that booster, man! I won’t inte
rfere; whatever you say goes.”

  The man chuckled before pushing the needle into Kenny’s neck. He then grabbed Diane, squeezing her breast through her thin shirt.

  The drug ricocheted in Kenny’s mind like a hexagonal bullet, giving every edge in his vision a bright green outline. The big guy’s image trailed a cascade of tiny stars as he bent forward to kiss Diane.

  Kenny had to shut his eyes; despite the warm chemical fuzz, he couldn’t bear to watch this gorilla molesting his sister—especially in glorious Technicolor. But blocking the vision only intensified the rage. He couldn’t let that fucker take advantage of his young sister … “Get your paws off her, you asshole! She’s only seventeen!” His eyes opened again to see the big guy’s face lit with an enormous grin.

  “Oh my, we are going to have so much fun together. You’re a regular clown, Kenny.” The man released Diane and stepped over to where Kenny lay. “Oh, how rude of me, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Rossini. But you call me Mister Rossini … and I’ll call you grave-monkey.” On his approach Rossini had pulled down his zip, and now tugged out his dick and started pissing.

  Kenny had just enough of his senses functioning to roll away from the oncoming urine stream, but he wasn’t quite fast enough to avoid the splash dampening his boots and slacks.

  Rossini laughed softly, then grabbed the uniformed corpse by its ankles and dragged it along the wet cobbles. The movement caused the other body to roll onto its side. The vagrant groaned, but the noise issued did not belong to one of the risen. The poor man was still alive. Still dragging the constable’s body with one hand, with the other Rossini slid his shotgun off his shoulder, aimed the gun at the moving pile of rags and squeezed the trigger.

  Rags, flesh and blood splattered against a pile of plastic bags. Kenny looked up into Rossini’s smiling face, wondering if this piece of human garbage had ever possessed a soul. “What the fuck did you do that for?”