‘Who do you work for?’ he asked.
‘I am not at liberty to disclose their identity.’
‘No deal then,’ said Harry.
Elizabeth Neri rose from her chair. ‘Thank you for your time Mr Flowers, I am sorry we could not come to some arrangement.’ She turned to leave.
Outside Henry Fehr sat in the driver’s seat of an Audi A5, something fast in case of a speedy getaway. He was listening to every word that was spoken inside Harry Flowers’ office. He was preparing to enter the club and end the life of Harry and anybody else that got in his way. Henry was just turning the silencer into the nozzle of the Glock the last few times. He watched as Harry’s enforcer; Bull walked through the doors of the club.
‘I didn’t say we couldn’t negotiate,’ said Harry. Elizabeth smiled and turned to face Harry.
‘Name your price,’ she said.
‘The million in the case now and another million paid into my account in the morning.’
‘Done,’ she said. ‘One more thing Harry, if you renege on the deal, you’ll find out soon enough who I work for. The date of the protest is October 31st.’
Harry ignored the threat; he was too thick skinned when it came to money. ‘What’s so special about that day?’
‘It’s a great sporting day for the UK, plenty of people out and about. The news will pick up on the protests, the world will see, and your government will need to think twice about leaving the European Union. Oh and for now it’s a secret what with the state of the world. Keep it to yourself please,’ she smiled.
‘We’ve already left,’ stated Harry.
‘An illusion,’ she replied. Just like this.
‘Fair enough, said Harry. ‘But the same rule applies, if my bank account hasn’t increased significantly in the morning no deal…and don’t come back here looking for your case either.’
‘Your money has already been wired to your account Mr Flowers.’
‘What, I’ve not given you my account details’.
‘Good evening Mr Flowers, October 31st, put it in your diary. I’ll be in touch.’ She was out the door before he could respond.
Elizabeth Neri glided past Bull as he was about to knock. She was all too aware of the glares she was receiving from Hazel. She exited the club and climbed into the car and kissed Henry gently on the cheek. ‘Please take me somewhere classy, away from this cheap imitation,’ she said.
‘We should release the gas ourselves,’ he said.
‘My dear Henry, the gas is only part of the plan. We want the population disorientated when the dead come. We want them to consume each other and we don’t want to be anywhere near it. We need people like Flowers, there is a Harry Flowers in every city in England and we have found them all. They won’t get a chance to spend their money. Now enough of work, I want to eat and dance.’ They drove off without a glance backwards.
Bull rushed in as soon as Elizabeth Neri had left the room. ‘Everything ok boss,’ he asked.
‘Everything is fine, more than fine,’ he replied as he looked at his increased bank account. ‘I’ve got a job for you.’
‘Sure thing H, what do you want?
‘I want the Makin boys here; I’ve got a job for them too.’
‘I can take care of what you need H,’ said Bull.
‘No not this time Bull, you’re too valuable to me. I want a couple of idiots who are indispensable.’
‘What about…’
‘Don’t mention his name Bull and fuck him I run this city. This is my city and nobody least of all him, has a say in how I run it. Now get his brothers over here.’
*
Harry wasn’t sure what had happened. He had expected a few scuffles, some arrests and a few broken bones, all his men had been compensated well, so had he.
Now Harry Flowers stood in his pyjamas watching the dead eat his city alive.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Southport, North Coastal Town, UK
Frank’s momentary lapse from reality and the chaos he had become involved in was shaken awake when the dead thing he held in his firm grasp, reached for him. The woman’s screams continued, louder with each shriek. The creature he held had swallowed the lump of flesh it had torn from the jogger moments earlier. It was arching its body towards him and trying to stand in the same motion. The creature whose jaw he was certain he had broken was beginning to rise. He thought about reaching for his phone, but events were unfolding quickly.
He was unsure of the things that were on the attack, they stank of blood and death. Their bodies and faces were mutilated and their hunger for destruction was relentless. He knew they wouldn’t stop, and they were incapable of reason. His instincts told him that he must fight without constraint; he was in another life or death situation. He flicked the switch.
The creature he held in his hand died again within ten seconds. He rammed three short hard knees into its chin. With each force he heard bones shatter and teeth fall from its mouth. With savage strength and still holding the back of its head he grabbed the things crushed lower jaw and slammed its head into a mooring lock. The lights faded from its milky eyes as blood and grey brain matter seeped into the cobbled path.
Without hesitation he fired a straight leg into the knee of the second creature. It didn’t scream in pain, but it did hit the floor again. Its face crashed into the uneven path, Frank moved in and slammed a foot into the back of its skull. The base of the skull detached from the spine and it remained motionless.
The third undead was flapping in the water like a startled swan. It gained leverage on the uneven surface and began dragging itself from the sea. With each pull forward it moaned louder; its vacant eyes fixed on the sobbing jogger. Frank reached down and loosened a cobbled boulder, easily judging the weight and raising it above his head. He stood to the side of the crawling creature. The thing continued without any knowledge of its impending doom. Frank drove the stone with such force it disintegrated the creatures head and cracked in two when it met the floor.
Frank hadn’t noticed the woman’s screaming had stopped. She had forgotten the bite in her arm as she sat with her hand to her mouth, witnessing the devastation that Frank had just laid out. Bits of bone and gore cluttered her clothing and hair from the exploded cranium of the recently despatched undead.
Frank reached out a helping hand, ‘Are you OK? Apart from the obvious,’ he said.
She ignored his question; the shock of the initial attack had been strangled by the fear of what she had just witnessed. Her mind was convincing her that she was the only witness to three murders. She kept replaying the brutality of the man before her, the same man who had probably saved her from being raped and murdered herself.
Why is this happening to me?’ she said. ‘I pay my taxes; I go to work – I don’t understand.’
‘Lady, we need to go,’ Frank snapped.
‘I…I’m fine, leave me here.’
‘You’re not fine, you’re in shock and you need that arm looking at,’ his voice was firm.
The tone of his voice increased her fear, ‘Please don’t hurt me, just leave me here and I will go home and never mention the murders.’
‘Murders, what murders,’ Frank was confused for a moment, then he realised and softened his tone – he kneeled before her. He reached out and took her trembling hand, she flinched.
It suddenly dawned on Frank that what he had been watching a half hour earlier hadn’t been exaggerated. He searched his mind for the bits that he had been ignoring. He remembered, biting, eating, the dead and worse still – THEY ARE COMING BACK TO LIFE. He looked at the dead around him.
With a half-smile he tried to reason with her. ‘Have you been watching the news?’ She gave a negative nod. ‘The world, certainly the UK seems to be overrun with an unemotional and bloodthirsty group of people who until recently were human and alive.’
Holding his gaze with the same fearful and solemn expression, ‘Politicians?’ She whispered.
Under different circumstances her re
sponse would have bent him double, but he knew her confusion was refusing to let go. ‘No love, the undead. The dead are coming back to life and they are eating people.’
‘The dead don’t walk around attacking people, they lie down and their souls float away. Why are you saying this to me?’
‘I know you’re scared and confused but you have to trust what I am saying to you. You were attacked by three undead creatures; I don’t know why but they attack and eat people like me and you. They are sick or infected and real, so please just let me help you.’
‘What if I phone my husband, would it be OK for him to come and get me?’
Phone Amy, he thought. ‘Great, one less problem for me to deal with. Ring him,’ he said. He reached for his own phone. He heard the moaning at the same time he saw the jogger aim her finger.
He followed the direction of her pointing, behind him the creature he had almost knocked over was heading towards them; he had brought some of his fellow undead. ‘Shit,’ said Frank. ‘Change of plan, you need to get up and start moving.’
She began to object, ‘Listen to me carefully, lady and only answer yes or no…would you like to be eaten alive where you sit?’
She shook her head. ‘Say it out loud,’ he snapped.
‘No,’ she responded with a shaky voice.
He grabbed her damaged arm and pulled her to her feet. She grimaced with pain. Frank looked at the wound quickly. Surprisingly, it hadn’t bled much but the wound was ugly, and it was beginning to smell foul. The edges of the bite had reddened like an infection was spreading through the arm.
‘Can you walk, run?’
‘I feel a little lightheaded, but I should be OK.’
‘Great,’ he said with a forced smile. ‘Get moving.’
He pushed her towards a set of stairs that would take them from the waterfront. He knew it was less than a mile to his shop but as he climbed the stairs, he could see more of the dead stumbling about along the promenade and skirting the edges of the lake. The monsters hadn’t seen them but that wouldn’t take long, the creatures behind were making a racket.
He pulled the woman towards him, their faces only inches apart. She was still trembling. ‘I’m married,’ she croaked.
‘Thanks for the heads up. You need to listen to me carefully.’ He realised he didn’t know her name. ‘What’s your name?’
‘It’s Lucy.’
‘I’m Frank. I want you to do as I tell you and hopefully, we’ll both get out of this intact. We are going to jog at a steady pace to my place just up the road. If any of the dead creatures approach us, I want you to stay close and I will deal with them. Are you following me?’ She nodded she understood. ‘They seem to be slow so we should be able to dodge them, keep the pace steady.’ He reiterated. ‘When I say run, we give it our all, OK.’
‘OK, can we go now?’ Her senses seemed to be returning. The undead drunk began to moan. They started to jog.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Liverpool, East of the port.
Tom headed back over the fence, he couldn’t stop Dave or Christine and he didn’t want to bash their heads in until he was certain there was no comeback. His mother screeched away as he swung his leg over. A thunderous roar coming from the port stopped him for a second. Others came out of their doors.
‘Where the fuck have you lot been hiding. I could’ve done with a hand fighting these two mad bastards.’
‘What’s going on?’ said the stick thin next-door neighbour peering over the fence. ‘Are you alright Kath?’ She asked Tom’s mother.
‘I will be when I get away from him,’ she replied. ‘Look what he’s done to my door. Working nights doesn’t agree with him.’ She limped off back into the house.
Tom jumped down, leaving Dave and Christine to it. ‘Take no notice to her,’ he said.
‘She been drinking again?’ he nodded in agreement. ‘When did she start?’
‘About 1974,’ he said without humour.
‘I meant.’ she replied
‘I know what you meant,’ he interrupted. ‘She was in that state when I walked through the door at 7.30 this morning.’
‘Have you thought about getting her on a detox programme?’ She asked.
‘Have you thought about minding your own fucking business?’ He walked in, leaving her with a gaping mouth. As an afterthought he stepped back out. ‘If you’re offended, don’t hesitate to send your son over when he gets in,’ then he was gone.
His mother was glued to the news while she chain smoked with one hand and drank like a fish with the other. Whatever was happening it would sort itself out, he thought.
‘I’m going back to bed, don’t disturb me.’
‘What about the door?’ She enquired gently.
‘Fuck the door,’ he said as he walked up the stairs. He climbed into bed, pulled the roller blind down and got into his bed. He pulled a small box from a drawer and popped a wax ear plug into each ear. By the time he woke up the neighbourhood had gone to shit, and his mother had been right, the dead were eating each other.
*
When he woke, he pulled out the ear plugs, the only things besides loud music that gave him any real peace from the constant mithering of people. He rolled the blind and opened the window. He was greeted by death screams and a vision of a complete breakdown in society. Dave and Christine were eating a female police officer. She had obviously attended the scene expecting to sort out another domestic, that didn’t end well. From what he could see the other neighbours had succumbed to cannibalistic savagery and were now moping around their own back gardens, trapped by wooden fences and covered in the blood of their loved ones.
Speaking of loved ones or not, he reached under the bed and pulled out a case. The case contained three long blades. Tom was a huge Tarantino fan; Kill Bill was his favourite. He had a few collectables but none as lethal as the three Hattori Hanzo swords. He had bought them blunt, but it didn’t take long to find somebody who could put an edge on them and keep the shine. He took out all three and prepared to send his dead neighbours to hell.
Tom descended the stairs; the larger sword was strapped to his back. He held the top with his right hand and the base of the sword with his left, just like they do in the movies. He was ready to slash quickly. He moved into the living room.
His mother burst into fits of laughter when she clapped eyes on him. ‘Those idiots on the news say the world is ending and you’re dressed up for a night out.’ She couldn’t help herself.
‘It’s a Kill Bill outfit,’ he replied.
She was still laughing, ‘Kill who, they’d see you coming – it’s canary yellow.’
Tom hadn’t really expected to see her alive, he thought he would be coming down to push the end of his sword through one of her eyeballs. Maybe the bright yellow jumpsuit wasn’t the best outfit for killing zombies.
‘It is Uma Thurman’s outfit from the film, she killed everyone.’
‘I knew there was something odd about you. If you like dressing up in women’s clothes I can lend you a pair of heels to match it.’ She was enjoying herself.
He mimicked her facial expression, ‘When was the last time you wore heels, you can just about stand up straight in your slippers.’
‘You be careful in that girly suit, you’ll do yourself a mischief,’ she giggled.
He had to admit it was a bit tight and it was certainly riding high. He decided to change. When he came back down, he still wore the swords, but his attire was now jeans, jumper and his usual sturdy boots.
‘There you are,’ said his mother. ‘You’ve just missed your sister. She looked all feminine in her yellow cat suit.’
‘Piss off,’ he said as he walked into the kitchen.
‘I bet you’ve still got it on underneath your clothes,’ he’d never heard her this happy.
He ignored her and headed to the back garden; he moved the chair that she had propped against the broken door. The air had a reek of death to it. People screaming in the dista
nce, sirens wailing and Dave and Christine groaning through the fence.
The skinny neighbour was dead and gnawing at the fence. Her gormless son standing next to her. He took the sword from its sheath and was about to poke them both in the eye with it. Not through sympathy just pure enjoyment. Next on his list was Dave and Christine, then the unfortunate officer.
‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ he spluttered as he turned to see his mother stood next to him. ‘You need a bell around your neck, creeping up on people like that.’
‘Wanted to see what you were doing.’
‘Now you’ve seen, piss off back in doors.’
‘What do want for your tea?’ She asked.
‘Are you serious?’
‘I’ve got burgers, or you can have a fry up, but I’ve only got those frozen sausages you’re not fussed on.’
‘You are serious,’ he gasped.
‘You have to eat, don’t you? If you don’t want it you can starve,’ she waved a hand at him, possibly a two fingered salute.
‘What’s wrong with your hand?’ He asked noticing the bandage.
‘That skinny bitch bit me on the thumb. I only asked her for a light.’
Tom raced forward; the sword held ready for action. ‘You’re going to turn into one of them,’ he said.
‘Piss off, it’s only a scratch.’
‘Let me see,’ he said.
She could see he was serious, so she unravelled the bandage. The wound was oozing pus, it didn’t smell great. ‘I’ll put some anti-septic on it, that should clear it.’
‘I don’t think that will work.’
‘No, I think you could be right.’
The realisation hit them both, the love hate relationship was based on a series of emotions that neither of them were willing to share.
‘What’s going to happen to me?’ she asked.
‘Let’s go and sit on the settee and talk about some of the laughs we’ve had in the past.’
‘We’ve never done that before,’ she said.
‘I know but things are different now.’
‘You mean you’re going to do to me what you were about to do to them.
The Good, The Bad & The Dead | Book 1 | Once Upon A Time In An Undead World Page 11
