The woman that rolled about in the silk bed sheets was Hazel. Harry adored her; Hazel hated him. She hated his controlling nature, his jealous rages but most of all she hated the pleasure he took from hurting people. She blamed him for the death of their only son. The relationship had never been that good in truth. She had met him when he was making his way in the world. She was the hostess at the club that Harry now owned, he had taken an instant shine to her. The first night he clapped eyes on her he had whispered words into her ear that made her blush. The second night she was on the back seat of his car. She lives with her regrets every day.
Their son’s death was the result of a feud with a gang of Liverpool heavies. Harry thought his son was ready to follow in his footsteps, he had underestimated his son’s drug use and fiery temper. The Liverpool drug lord took offense to Harry Jnr speaking for his father as well as the insult of Harry not being present at the deal. When Harry Jnr, smashed off his face on cocaine prodded a finger in the chest of the drug lord, he retaliated with brutal force. Harry Jnr was no match, several of his ribs snapped, his face was a pulp and his skull cracked in two from the multiple stamps he received. Harry Jnr didn’t die instantly, he remained in a coma for several weeks. The doctors said he would never walk, talk or lead a functional life again. When the plug was pulled, Harry Snr pulled it himself.
Harry sent two of his most trusted men to find the man responsible, it wasn’t hard he bragged about what he had done most nights. They found him in a pub. Bull paid and threatened the barman to put the liquid Temazepam into his scotch. He knew the drug wouldn’t knock him out, he didn’t want that, but it would slow down his reactions and make him more manageable. When he walked out the pub that was the last anybody ever saw of him. The barman was roughed up a bit but only because he couldn’t tell his friends anything. Like the plug, Harry also pulled the trigger that ended the life of his son’s attacker but not before he mirrored the beating. Bull’s companion that night was Harry Jnr’s best friend, it was the last time he was part of the set up. Normally it wasn’t possible to walk away from Harry Flowers, but this guy was different, Harry seen him as a threat and occasionally he frightened him.
‘You fancy a quickie, before I head off,’ said Harry without turning.
‘What’s wrong, the slut from the club you’ve been fucking the past few weeks, she gone off sick again?’ hissed Hazel.
‘Her name is Melanie, please don’t call her that.’
‘Are you taking the piss?’ she said angrily.
He turned to face her. ‘I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.’ His face was serious.
Hazel knew whatever he was going to say next would be something she didn’t like. ‘Just let me leave, I’m done…we’re done.’
‘I’m going to be a dad,’ he said ignoring what she had just said.
The anger surged through her body and spilled out of her mouth with a calmness that surprised even Harry. She swung her legs out of the bed into a pair of slippers, wrapped a dressing gown around her curved body and headed to the en-suite, pausing just before she entered. ‘The great Harry Flowers is going to be a dad again, well I hope for the kids’ sake you’re better at being a dad second time round, give my condolences to Melanie.’
She slammed the door with such force several pictures fell off the wall. The last picture of Harry Jnr cracked as it hit the floor. Inside the bathroom Hazel sobbed. Harry shrugged and turned back towards the TV, ‘That went better than expected,’ he said to himself.
On the TV a full-scale riot was in full flow in his hometown, a pretty news reporter was swearing while delivering the news. She mentioned the dead, something about them walking about and eating people. Then Harry witnessed it for himself, a dead woman in a grey suit heading towards the camera man. He heard more swearing then the camera crashed to the floor. The last thing Harry heard before the camera died was the sound of flesh being torn and the screams of the living.
Harry showered and dressed into a dark expensive suit. He stuffed a semi-automatic pistol into his waistband and headed off into a city in chaos…his city.
Chapter Five
Seaforth Port, UK.
Twenty minutes later Dr Hayes had wrongly diagnosed the immigrants as having nothing more than the flu and serious dehydration. Her diagnosis didn’t change by the time sixteen of the passengers had died. By the time more than half had expired she was beginning to think she could be wrong. The dead bodies had been moved out of sight of the living.
Ben watched from the higher platform as Dr Hayes stood with her hands on her hips. He could tell that she didn’t have a clue what was happening to those people. None of her team were wearing any protective suits only face masks and rubber gloves. He had stood the tactical unit down when the Dr had taken over. This operation had gone from illegals to medical in a brief period of time. The medical team were taking blood samples but at the rate the passengers were dying they would be of no use other than research.
Geoff the clown had been put on ‘dead’ duty that’s what he had called it when he was instructed to keep an eye on the bodies. ‘Why what do you think they are going to do,’ he asked sarcastically.
‘Did you not watch 24 hours in police custody?’ said Jill with a huge smile across her lips.
‘Smart arse,’ he said back.
‘If you’re too frightened I don’t mind doing it,’ she said to him.
‘Frightened, I’m not frightened.’ He replied.
‘Geoff fuck off and do as I’ve asked,’ said Ben. ‘She has given me a headache,’ he said nodding towards the doctor. ‘And you two are not helping it.’
‘Maybe you’ve got the fever,’ said Geoff as he walked off.
Ben ignored him, he watched as another three blankets were pulled over the faces of the dead.
*
Geoff sat on the deck of the ship, the rain was still falling, and the wind was picking up. The bodies were still coming up too. He sat under shelter, chasing a Pokémon around his phone. He heard a groan or was it the wind. He heard it again. Over forty dead bodies were putting the fear right up him. He thought about ringing down for some back up, but he knew he would never live it down back at base. He got up and walked to the side rail. The water below was as black as death itself, small waves crashed against the hull. The chill and the water pissed right through him. He relieved himself over the side, he heard the groan louder.
Geoff turned towards the dead bodies laid out across the deck. The wind had taken the sheets from a couple of them, revealing a discolouration not associated with death less than an hour earlier. His whole body shuddered when he watched a dead passenger sit up, the sheet still across its face. For a moment he thought he was going to have a heart attack where he stood, then he started to laugh.
‘Whichever one of you it is, you are a wanker. You’d have been upset when you were stretching me out next to the rest,’ he laughed louder. The groaning continued.
*
Several of the dead had been left downstairs, Dr Hayes was going to take some tissue samples before they were transported upstairs with the rest.
‘What do you think it could be?’ asked Jill.
‘No idea,’ said Ben. ‘Hopefully, the flu, hopefully not Ebola or Corona virus’.
‘You think it could be airborne of just contact?’
‘I don’t think it’s either,’ he replied.
‘Why do you say that?’
‘The crew didn’t show any symptoms and it’s obvious there has been some contact between the two groups.’
‘Good observations,’ said Jill.
By the time their conversation had ended the last of the illegal passengers had died. Dr Hayes was cutting away samples from one of the dead when she heard her colleague scream.
*
Geoff walked towards the upright body, he spoke, it groaned. With each footstep he took closer, the less he felt assured that one of his colleagues was fucking about. He reached down and pulled the corner of the s
heet.
‘You are a fucking prick,’ he swore, ‘I thought Ben had sent you home an hour ago?’
‘You shit yourself,’ said Will. Will was tall, wide and spotty. ‘Wait till the rest hear about this.’ He laughed loudly, loud enough to wake the dead…which is exactly what he did.
*
A blonde male, early twenties was the first to feel the bite of a dead person. He screamed uncontrollably. Ben and Jill looked on as the dead woman that Dr Hayes was taking samples from reached out with a cold hand. Dr Hayes looked into the milky eyes of a woman that was dead but was sitting up making inaudible noises. As high as her IQ was she wasn’t quick enough to grasp the severity of what was happening. Ben did. The woman whose skin had discoloured tore into the face of Dr Hayes and began swallowing. She bit again and again. The rest of the dead began to awake from their temporary sleep.
‘Jesus, fuck,’ said Ben. ‘Geoff was right.’ He looked at the carnage below him. All the medics had been swamped by the dead. ‘We’re getting out of here,’ he said to Jill.
They headed upwards, stamping hard on grated steps and blowing harder through exerted lungs. They crashed through a metal door and onto the deck. Eager to put distance between themselves and the dead, they didn’t stop. They headed towards Geoff, as they reached the corner Ben stopped, he shouted for Jill to stop too. She didn’t hear him. She rounded the corner into the arms of Geoff. Parts of his face were missing. He let out a groan, the same groan that she had heard below, then she heard a collective groan. Behind Geoff stood a battalion of the dead. Before Ben could move towards her, Geoff bit down hard into her neck.
‘Noooooo,’ screamed Ben. They had never mentioned their affair to colleagues, breach of protocol and all that crap. They didn’t want to risk being separated by either of them having to move locations. They just said nothing, and nobody suspected. The rest of the dead moved forward to feed. A few stumbled past and headed for Ben.
The route to the gangway was blocked, he had no choice. He took a run and dived headfirst over the starboard rail. A flash of light caught his eye as he plunged into the cold black water below. He resurfaced and coughed what seemed like a gallon of seawater back up. At the stern of the ship he could see a tug sitting idly in the water, he swam towards it. He climbed aboard and headed to the cabin, scrambling for the radio.
Gunfire stopped him in his tracks. Two of the armed police had stayed behind to continue a sweep of the boat. They were now caught up in a life or death battle aboard the ship. The shooting came to an abrupt end and a series of screams confirmed that they had lost. When Ben returned to his search he was confronted by a man pointing a gun at him. He had been hiding in the cabin of the small boat, he was soaking wet. Ben quickly realised that he was a member of the crew and like him had ejected himself over the side when customs and the police had boarded. Unlike the captain, this man didn’t speak English.
He motioned for Ben to turn around. The thud to the back of his skull caused him to wince, the second knocked out his lights. The man watched as the dead stumbled about the deck, he could see a group of them heading down the gangway. He waited several hours before returning to the boat.
Chapter Six
Manchester, Central UK.
Laura accepted Eddie Makin’s offer, he told her he knew a safe place. She turned to see Ritchie crumple under the attack of the snarling blonde woman. She thought better of planting a foot into the face of the blood-stained mad woman, instead she motioned for Eddie to help.
Ritchie was using all his strength to keep her snapping jaws from sinking into his flesh. The blonde creature that pinned him to the floor showed no sign of tiring, in fact her quest for flesh seemed to spur on her frenzy. He held her face under the chin, she snapped at his hand. His other hand gripped her left hand at the wrist in a continuous motion of back and forth. The hand he held was more like a claw, a dangerous set of pointed false nails trying to rake the flesh from his bones. Her other arm had been crushed and didn’t pose a threat.
Eddie moved towards them both. The foot he planted under her chin sent her hurtling back, she landed with a crunch across the bodies of the fallen. Her jaw cracked from the impact of the foot, teeth shattered, and her tongue was severed, she didn’t move. Ritchie let out a squeal as two of his fingers fractured. Eddie hadn’t given him time to move them. He reached down and pulled Ritchie to his feet.
‘Thanks,’ said Ritchie rubbing his damaged fingers.
Eddie ignored him, he looked around. ‘Where the fuck have you gone Tommy?’ He said loudly.
‘Who is Tommy?’ Asked Ritchie.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he replied. ‘Best we get moving’.
He thought about searching for him, but he knew he could never get through the crowds. The plan was to meet back at the house if things went to shit and of course it had, it wasn’t only the shit hitting the fan. He hoped Tommy would have the sense to get out when the fucking monsters went on the rampage. One final visual search of the crowd convinced him to get away from whatever was turning people into blood thirsty corpses.
Laura snapped him alert. She pointed to the blonde woman. Eddie’s pride was dented; he couldn’t understand how she had got back to her feet from the smack he gave her moments earlier. The force of the kick must have rattled her brain and temporarily incapacitated her. She was beginning to stir; she wasn’t the only thing waking up. Several of the bodies she had landed on were beginning to reanimate. Eddie realised it didn’t matter how hard he hit her he wasn’t going to keep her down.
‘We need to go,’ he said. ‘Whatever that is,’ he said pointing to the blonde woman. ‘It is going to take more than violence to stop it.’
‘Do you think she is sick?’ said Laura.
Eddie contemplated leaving her and Ritchie, but he was already formulating his plan, the one that involved her being naked. ‘I think she has gone beyond sick. What she has is a disease and the longer we stay the more risk we have of becoming like her,’ said Ritchie.
Eddie looked at the miserable creature fumbling about, trying to right itself. Its right arm crippled, a still working jaw hanging loose and cold dead eyes staring back at him. He couldn’t tell if the creature hated him for the damage - he had caused it or it just looked straight through him…what he did know was that he no longer looked at it as a woman or even a human being, it was something much worse.
He walked away from the crowd, Laura and Ritchie looked at each other, they followed.
*
After they cleared the main throng it was easier to navigate through the surrounding streets. People were scattering in every direction; some had suffered bite marks. Others were beginning to cough up blood, a result of the gas that Eddie had released into the crowd. Some of the people incapacitated by the gas were easy prey for the marauding flesh eaters.
Although she was considered a bit dizzy, it wasn’t just Laura’s alleged skills in the bedroom that had got her a top job. She was diligent and meticulous in the fine details. She didn’t know what was causing people to cannibalise each other but she quickly concluded that a bite was the cause of the disease being transmitted. The people moving past her with open wounds were doomed. They didn’t know their bodies were changing; the poison from a bite was taking over the cells in their dying bodies.
‘Don’t get bitten,’ she blurted out.
‘I wasn’t planning on it,’ snapped Eddie.
‘You don’t understand, I think it’s the bite that is causing people to go crazy. Look,’ she said pointing.
‘What about that poor bastard over there, he’s not had a bite but he’s coughing his lungs up. I don’t think he is going to make it,’ said Ritchie.
Eddie recognised the red coat from the original protest. Red coat had been in the crowd when he released the gas. ‘He must have got a face full of the gas.’
‘What gas?’ Asked Laura.
‘The coppers fired in some tear gas,’ he lied.
‘It must be strong stuff becaus
e that man has just died in a pool of his own blood,’ Ritchie chipped in.
Behind them a series of screams motivated them to move. The infected people were beginning to follow the dispersing crowd. The infection was blossoming like a summer flower. Eddie navigated them through a maze of back alley streets. He picked up an arm length of scaffolding pipe, whatever these people had turned into; basic violence did not deter them. Eddie decided that the next creature to attack him was getting hit in the head with the pipe. As they exited the alley and rounded the corner a homeless man was leaning over a prone woman. They could see his back; his head was bobbing - he looked to be giving her some assistance. Ritchie moved towards them to offer his help. Laura placed her hand on his arm to stop him. He shrugged her off and took a step. He kicked an empty beer can, presumably the remains of the homeless man’s lunch.
Ritchie stopped as the man looked up; he was still eating his lunch. His eyes had turned the milky white that Ritchie recognised. A gaping hole in the side of his cheek identified his infected injury. His thick bushy beard was no longer just brown; it had a thick crimson spread in the centre. He continued to chew on a piece of pink facial flesh. They just stared at each other.
Laura stepped to the side to see past the homeless man, her journalist’s curiosity prompting her. The woman on the floor was obviously dead, she showed no sign of movement and her face was missing – all that was left was the bone structure and a mouth of bloody teeth. The movement of Laura alerted the homeless man to move; he shifted his weight from his knees and began to stand. As Ritchie began moving backwards Eddie moved forward. The homeless man may have recognised the threat when he was alive but today, he just thought he was heading towards another meal. Eddie raised the pipe and brought it down on the dead creatures head. The pipe crashed through bone and grey matter. The creatures legs folded in and it crashed to the floor in a heap. It didn’t move again.
The Good, The Bad & The Dead | Book 1 | Once Upon A Time In An Undead World Page 3
