The Nightmare Man: A Russian Zombie Novel

by Mick Franklin

  Andre was still processing what he had just heard when there was an explosion outside. One of the zombies in the horde just beyond the door had exploded, blasting another twenty zombies into pieces. Andre ran to the window, Masha beside him. She was talking and explaining, but Andre quickly realised what was happening; there were a number of zombies with exploding vests strapped to them. These vests had a flashing light on them and a small antenna, which made him think that someone was detonating them from nearby. And really, there was only one person that could be.

  “Shoot those zombies!” Andre called out, the music suddenly switching off. “The ones in the vests! He’s trying to use them to blast the gates open.”

  Dazed with the effects of drugs and alcohol, some of his people were slow to act, but they moved to the windows and started shooting. The first problem was that the handful of zombies who were wearing explosives were well protected by the ordinary zombies in front of them. These had to be cleared away first, which the Mafia did in a barrage of gunfire. When the explosive zombies were revealed, they found their next problems; these zombies were also wearing protective head gear. This was a mixture of hard hats and crash helmets, but it did the job of deflecting a number of bullets before each one of these zombies could be brought down.

  Masha quickly fired at the approaching zombies, destroying one zombie bomb with each round she fired, but she realised she wasn’t shooting them fast enough. Andre also fired into the advancing zombies, some of his bullets going wild, others smashing into the faces of these zombies and bringing them down. Another explosion went off. Then another. Some of the bomb wearing zombies had been destroyed in the blasts, as well as ordinary zombies, but there were still more zombies approaching due to the noise that was created.

  Many of the Mafia bullets were shot wide, missing due to their drunken state. Masha and Andre continued to thin the crowd, carefully selecting the zombie bombs and making each shot count. Just as it looked as though they had destroyed all the zombies approaching the front door, an explosion rocked the building – one of the walls to their right had been blasted in by the closest explosion yet.

  With horror, Andre realised the breach was too big to block up. It was now only a matter of time before the rest of the zombies started pouring through. And they seemed to be approaching from every direction, drawn by the noise.

  Andre physically pulled some of his people away from the windows to defend the breach in the wall. Four Mafia people stood blazing into the crowd, gunning down the advancing zombies, cheering into the night. When the gun smoke cleared, a lone zombie staggered up to the hole ripped into the building, it was ripped to pieces by bullets but saved by the kevlar helmet it was wearing. A lone Mafioso aimed his shotgun at this zombie. Masha saw what was happening and tried to shout at this man to stop, but he took his shot, hitting the zombie in the face but the spread from the shotgun also detonated the zombie’s explosive vest, killing all four of the mafia guards in the resulting explosion.

  The hole in the building was now even wider, smoking rubble spilt across the floor. The Mafia folk were now beginning to lose their nerve, suddenly aware they could lose control of the building. The armoured personnel carrier was still an option. Andre ordered the drivers in there, then pushed Masha in as well.

  She turned back to Andre. “What about you?”

  Andre paused for a moment, considering fleeing in the safety of the armoured vehicle, but he was, after all, Mafia, and he would not turn his back on his people.

  “Go!” he told Masha. “Get some distance from here. Draw them away if you can. Or at least try to thin their numbers. If we fall, then make sure you live.”

  She looked like she was going to cry for a moment then she closed the door.

  Andre assessed the scene; the zombies still hadn’t gotten into the building yet, but there were huge numbers outside. His people were still gunning them down, but they would eventually run low on ammunition. It would be just a matter of time before the zombies reached them, and then their only option would be to fight a retreating battle, probably retreating to the second floor and defending the staircase for as long as they could. After that, who knew? Exhaustion would eventually take its toll. There could even be a number of reserve explosive zombies, which the Nightmare Man had kept back to mop up any survivors that weren’t killed in the first wave. And if one of those exploding zombies detonated on the staircase while Andre and his people were defending it? Why, his glorious reign would come to a sudden end.

  33.

  The Nightmare Man moved through the dark. From what he could tell, his plan was working. The zombies with explosive vests were mixed in well with the horde of regular zombies and had advanced upon the Tank Academy. The New Mafia were shooting at the crowd of zombies; somehow, they had realised the danger. He saw the explosion that broke the building open, allowing the crowd of zombies in. While the New Mafia were focused there, he would be able to approach the building unscathed, or at least that was the plan. As he watched, most of the crowd of zombies seemed to be focusing on the hole in the building, sensing that at last they could reach the people inside.

  More bombs went off. These were ineffectual, serving only to destroy twenty or so zombies in the crowd each time a zombie exploded. The zombies who were not destroyed outright in the explosions continued to crawl relentlessly forward, still determined to reach the New Mafia inside.

  His first order of business would be to find a gun. He knew he would be much more effective once he held a firearm. Kirill made his way towards the battle on foot. The night was cold. He felt alive.

  Nearby, a sports car with two of the New Mafia inside noticed Kirill. They leaned out their windows with machine guns, firing wildly at him.

  Kirill ran for the only cover he had – straight for the zombies. Ducking under clawing hands, he merged with the crowd. Bullets chewed through the crowd of rotting meat, smashing the zombies apart, splintering bone. Zombies shook and fell all around him, being ripped apart by the bullets meant for him.

  Kirill suddenly faced a zombie with an explosive vest on. Jackpot.

  He stood and swung his scythe into the zombie’s neck, piercing it through its neck and straight into its rotted torso. It growled as black blood fountained out of it. In one mighty movement, Kirill turned and swung the scythe with the zombie on it, the growling zombie was flung off the blade and hurled at the sports car. It flew through the air and the two Mafia guys fired at it. Just before it could connect with the car, it exploded, splashing the front of the car with flames. Kirill expected them to abandon the vehicle, but instead, they both jumped inside, spinning the wheels in the snow and then plowing into the crowd.

  Zombies were smashed down before the flaming vehicle. It smashed through them, seeking out Kirill, but the crowd of zombies made it difficult to see. The flames quickly went out from a combination of the car’s speed and zombies bouncing off the front of the car.

  Turning on a wet mound of smashed and broken zombies, the car came to a halt. There stood Kirill with the scythe in his hands.

  The driver, a bald Mafia man, grinned and revved the car.

  Kirill brought the axe scythe back as if ready to strike an opponent, but he was half a block away. He swung the scythe forward and let it fly. It swooped through the air in a nightmare arc, flashing as it caught the moonlight, sweeping toward the car. A stray zombie got in its path and the flying scythe exploded through it in a wet splash without slowing down, as if destroying a cloth bag full of water balloons filled with black ink.

  Baldie ducked as the scythe burst through the windshield, but the passenger was not so lucky. He was impaled in his seat. He gasped once and was dead.

  Baldie looked out to Kirill who stood weaponless. “Motherfucker! You are dead now!” Revving the engine, snow splashing high as the car began to fishtail, he was a caged bear waiting to be released.

  “Better check your passenger,” Kirill said calmly.

  Baldie’s eyes widened. He snappe
d around to see the passenger, who came to life as a zombie, clawing and scratching to reach him. Baldie screamed in defiance, trying to keep his former friend at bay. The car spun in a circle, smashing zombies into the air, and suddenly stopped. All around, zombies closed in.

  The Nightmare Man turned and ran for the New Mafia building where the battle was heating up.

  34.

  Andre gathered his people in the foyer. Smoke from bullets and exploding zombies filtered by. His people were sobering up, the drugs and alcohol leaving their systems as they once again became what he needed them to be: killing machines. Good. He would need all the help he could get. It seemed like every zombie in the city was converging on their headquarters.

  Andre checked his AK 47. Still plenty of bullets. They had a reprieve, for now. It wouldn’t last.

  Beside him, a racing car driver dressed head to toe in a yellow and red flame design held a scoped .44 Magnum in her hands. This was the Rose Maniac, his best driver.

  “Rose, you’re better in a car than stuck in here. Cut a path through the zombies. See if there is any way of taking their attention somewhere else. Remember, someone out there is looking for us. Someone dangerous enough to strap bombs to zombies. So … take care of yourself.”

  Rose nodded. “I’ll find us a way out, boss. Then I’m going to find whoever’s responsible, chain him to my car, and drag him around the city until there’s nothing left.”

  Andre smiled. “Good girl.”

  The Rose Maniac marched in a straight line toward her car, a red beauty of a machine. She almost casually decapitated three zombies that got in her way, the huge handgun roaring. She dived behind the wheel with the ease of a cat. A moment before she could close the door behind her, a fast zombie appeared, seizing her wrist.

  She shot it once through the heart and it let go, but now it was the Rose Maniac seizing hold of the zombie’s arm. The engine roared to life. She dragged the zombie around in a tight circle. Cheering erupted from the Mafia. The zombie growled in what sounded like anguish. This is what it would look like when she caught the Nightmare Man. Then she allowed the flailing zombie to fall beneath the wheels. It was cut in half in seconds, trying to crawl away. The Rose Maniac pretended to drive away, as if giving mercy to the zombie who dragged its ropey intestines behind it. Instead, she flung the car in reverse, screeching across the floor, crushing its skull as it looked up.

  The Mafia cheered as she zoomed into the night, scattering zombies into the air. When they crashed into the ground, they kept on crawling forward if their heads had not been crushed.

  Andre grinned. Somehow, he felt better about this whole thing. He motioned to his people to the back of the room. More zombies were pouring in through two breaches in the walls. The front door was also left open.

  Andre took a tarpaulin aside, revealing two giant anti-aircraft guns. They were facing more or less the approaching zombie crowd.

  “This game is far from over,” he told his people. Two Mafia gangsters moved to the guns, ready to defend their home.

  35.

  Kirill was inside. He had crept onto the second floor when a series of three zombies had exploded, taking attention away from him. He had seen the Mafia guys fighting on the ground floor. No way he could take them, not without a gun. The zombies would keep them occupied. For a while. But he thought these Mafia guys were good, maybe good enough to stop the whole damn zombie horde.

  Not if he could help it. He would need to move fast. To somehow kill as many of the Mafia as possible. If he couldn’t, then they would always be a threat, not just to him, but to the survivors holed up in Megapolis. This had to end tonight.

  An explosion burst through the floor dangerously close to him. He was knocked off his feet, watching the third floor come down and crush the spot before him. His way was blocked. Rolling to his feet, he was already looking for another way round. Gunfire everywhere. This was a war. He was home.

  People approaching. He leapt behind a corner, a split second before he could be discovered. The Nightmare Man’s blood ran cold. He couldn’t believe it. The Bear. He had followed him from the prison. Beside him was a much smaller man who seemed out of the place.

  The Bear spoke to his companion, “You stay on this floor, nephew. Things are going to get exciting very fucking quickly. Fucking crazy bastards!”

  The Bear seemed to be enjoying himself. That wouldn’t last long if Kirill had anything to do with it. There were other guards from the prison, too, that Kirill recognised. They followed The Bear loyally. Staying to the shadows, Kirill followed the group.

  Eventually, there was another explosion which distracted them long enough for Kirill to seize the one The Bear had called “nephew.” He could well prove to be a valuable prize.

  Kirill seized Anton and withdrew as the smoke and dust collided around them. He heard The Bear call out “Anton!” but they were already twenty metres away, and Kirill carried Anton easily as he ran still further.

  He ran up to the third floor before he put Anton down.

  Anton stared at him in disbelief. “You’re the Nightmare Man!”

  “I am.”

  “A lot of people want you dead.”

  “That never changes.” Kirill drew his knife, giving Anton a good look at the shiny blade. It was the same knife he had used to skin Humair alive. “I have questions.”

  36.

  The sign read simply:

  The Russian Dentist

  In the white room was a woman strapped to a dentist’s chair. The Dentist was a woman named Olga, a thickset woman that looked like she could carry a telephone pole. A white dentist mask hid her face. Black locks spilled out from her paper cap. She held a whining drill in her hands as she loomed over her patient, who fought against their bonds. The patient’s mouth was held open with blocks and her head was fixed in place to the chair, but her body writhed as if she might somehow be able to escape The Dentist’s drill.

  “Andre has questions,” said The Dentist. “Don’t worry, I can still understand what you say. Let’s start with where your group is hiding.”

  Just before she could drill into her patient’s teeth, the door was kicked in.

  Senior KGB Agent Karl was there, the door having been burst in by one his assistants.

  Karl smiled broadly as he stepped into the room, Olga straightening up and standing away from her patient, still holding the drill. Karl’s assistant moved to block the door, gun drawn.

  “I like your style,” said Karl. “Everyone has a fear of the dentist. And something tells me that your patients fear you, especially. Well, as much as I would love to study your work, I will have to stop you here. Because I have questions of my own.”

  Olga’s eyes were wide above her mask.

  Karl picked up an instrument from a steel tray. It had a hook on it.

  “A man named Kirill. Is he here?”

  Olga didn’t answer, so Karl said, “You might know him as the Nightmare Man. Trust me, if you’ve made him angry, you’ll know why he is called that. Last chance; please tell me where I can find him.”

  “Kind sir, I genuinely do not know,” said Olga as Karl got closer. “All I do is work for Andre. If he needs someone to talk, I make it happen.”

  “Hmm, yes, I understand. But you seem like the kind of person that people would like to talk to. I bet you hear a lot of things. And if your boss has an enemy, or a new friend, then I am certain you would know about it.”

  “Please, don’t hurt me,” said Olga, sobbing and falling to her knees.

  Karl studied her for long moments. Then he looked at the hook in his hand.

  37.

  VOLGOGRAD, 2013

  The newspaper on the table showed images of the bombing of the Volgograd train station. There was a photo of a babushka crying. This terrorist attack left the entire nation shaken. Humair sucked on his cigarette and held up the newspaper, appraising the bomb scene.

  They were in hiding now; it seemed that all of Russia was looking for
them. But they had made their statement loud and clear. All that was left was to reach the border and make their way through Kazakhstan to their contact person. Then they would live out the rest of their days in luxury.

  Arita came out of the kitchen carrying food on a tray. She was doting and adoring of Humair, the man who had been an important part in setting the bombs at the train station.

  She placed the tray of food on the table beside him, careful not to obscure Humair’s view of the newspaper photo, which he was still looking at and smiling over.

  The window smashed. A small smoking device landed on the floor. Humair regarded it with surprise while he sipped his coffee. It suddenly exploded into blinding light and Humair was on the floor, deafened and blind.

  He could not see the front door burst in with a battering ram or the four Spetsnaz soldiers charge through. He did not see Arita punched unconscious and then handcuffed and dragged outside, while the special forces soldiers checked every room.

  A Spetsnaz soldier in a white ski mask and uniform stomped on Humair’s face, leaving him unconscious.

  Later, when Humair was downstairs with his jaw broken and his hands cuffed behind him, he saw Arita again. She was being shoved into a van. Normal citizens on the street ducked their heads and got away as fast as they could. No one stopped to film the Spetsnaz or interfered – everyone knew the Spetsnaz were not to be messed with.

  Humair caught a glimpse of two men in the van. They were the hated FSB, formerly known as the KGB.

  One of the men was Karl.

  Humair himself would be interrogated thoroughly. At first, he would try to hold out, but within moments, he would sing like a bird and tell everything he knew. The Spetsnaz men holding him punched him in the chest twice, breaking his ribs, and he was thrown into a waiting car.

  When the car was gone, the Captain of the Spetsnaz men spoke to his troops. “That’s a good start. The KGB will make those two give up everything. Then we’re going to find every person who was involved in the bombing. And we’re going to kill their wives, their parents, their children, anyone who had anything at all to do with them. We’ll exterminate their entire bloodlines. Hell, we’ll even kill their green grocer.”