‘Eddie,’ she screamed again. ‘Eddie you fucking c…’ she stopped her obscenities as he walked through the door.
‘I’ve just fucking killed my brother and there is an army of fucking dead trying to eat me, so shut the fuck up.’ It was his calmness that terrified her.
She was curled up and shackled to the bedpost. She was now wearing her skirt as a belt, barely covering her modesty. Both breasts were exposed, and buttons had popped from her ripped shirt.
‘I thought you were going to leave me here, alone with him,’ she nodded towards the bedroom across the hallway.
‘Anymore fucking insults and I might.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Sure you are,’ he said mockingly.
‘Please unlock me, the cuffs are cutting into my wrists. It was fun last night,’ she gave her best sultry smile.
‘Yes it was, I understand where Ritchie was coming from now,’ he winked a wicked grin.
‘If he is that smart why is he chained to the radiator in your spare room trying to chew his own fucking arm off?’ She hissed.
‘I’ll give you that one.’
‘Unlock me now,’ she demanded. ‘If we manage to get out of this house alive there’ll be a repeat performance.’
She thought her offer had paid off when he tossed her the keys. Eddie was prepared to use her as a shield or bait. She released herself, rubbed her wrists and straightened her clothing. Her shirt remained open, unable to fasten. She stood up and removed it.
‘I need something to wear,’ she said to Eddie.
He tossed her a plain grey t-shirt and a clean pair of running pants, she planter her feet into a small pair of trainers, ex-girlfriend she thought but said nothing as she moved towards the door. Eddie put his arm across to bar her path.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he demanded.
‘I can piss in your boots if you want.’
He moved out of her way and headed towards the stairs. The dead were gaining momentum in the kitchen, very soon they would be at the foot of the stairs searching for food. Laura could hear the noise from below, her terror swelled. In the other room she could hear Ritchie scratching about, she hurried past to the toilet. She locked the door and sat down, for a moment she felt relief. She finished, stood and flushed then looked in the mirror.
‘Fuck woman you look rough,’ she said to her reflection. She ran the taps and swilled cold water onto her face. The water didn’t help with her looks, but it shocked her wide awake. She cleaned the grime from around her eyes, her lipstick had long gone.
She literally jumped off her feet when Eddie banged on the door. ‘What are you doing in there?’
‘Fucking arsehole,’ she muttered. ‘It’s a toilet no bigger than a wardrobe – what do you think I’m doing.’
‘Whatever it is, I’d make it quick – company has arrived.’
Laura opened the door and crept to the edge of the stairs. She couldn’t see them all, but she knew there was a lot. The barricade was holding them.
‘Please tell me you have a plan,’ she asked.
‘I sure do,’ he replied pleased with himself. He pointed above her head.
*
Eddie pushed open the door, Ritchie raised his pale and bloody face. His eyes whiter than his skin targeted a glare at him. Ritchie moved forward and reached out, his manacled hand preventing his advance. Laura stepped in; Ritchie became more animated. She recoiled and pushed herself into the back of Eddie.
‘Do you think he remembers me?’ she asked.
Eddie’s mind went back to Tommy and how his brother had shown no recognition. ‘He sees you as food, nothing more. The person you knew has gone.’
‘Poor bastard, I should have treated him better.’ She pointed at his shackled hand. ‘Look, he has almost chewed through his own arm.’
Ritchie had been chewing on his own flesh for most of the night. The cuff rattled against bone with each of his jerking movements. Eddie walked past him and picked up a small step ladder. The ladder wouldn’t reach the attic, but it would give Eddie enough height to open the door and lift himself up, then reach down and pull Laura through.
A crash from downstairs caused Laura to jump, Eddie grabbed the ladder and rushed past. The dead at the foot of the stairs had made some progress. Their continuous scratching at the barricade had caused one of the chairs to topple. The other was about to fall. Eddie placed the ladder beneath the attic entrance.
He rushed up the four steps and pushed the wooden door, he pushed it again. Something inside must have fallen on top; it was moving but not fast enough. He continued to heave. With each push the door opened further. The second chair of the barricade tumbled, he watched as the first dead hand crept over the barricade – he quickened his pace.
Laura screamed at him, ‘Hurry the fuck up, they’re coming.’
‘I can see that; something has fallen inside. Throw some obstacles onto the stairs to slow them.’
She ran back into the room where Ritchie was becoming more agitated. She picked up a small cabinet and wrestled it into the hallway. At the top of the stairs she kicked it forward. It bounced and crashed into the face of the first dead creature. She raced back in and got another, slightly larger cabinet and did the same. It slowed the dead briefly.
Ritchie continued to stretch and pull. His moaning was louder as he sensed his first meal as an undead. He ached to tear into the fresh meat of Laura. For a second Ritchie hadn’t realised what had happened. He looked towards his cannibalised hand. It wasn’t attached to his gnawed arm anymore. The cuff slipped off his wrist as the hand fell to the floor. He looked towards the open door.
With a final push Eddie popped open the door and reached in. He pulled himself up but the rucksack on his back prevented him from easing through the gap. He lowered himself down, removed the bag and tossed it through the hole. He reached up again and pulled himself through, he looked back into the hall. He could see the slowly moving dead crawling up the stairs as Laura watched them. He could also see Ritchie advancing from the room. He called out to Laura just as she felt the cold hand clench her shoulder.
Chapter Forty
North Wales, UK.
When Ronnie woke up he was roped to a chair, his temple was throbbing and he felt a bit nauseous. The tough welsh bastard and his army of sheep herders had restored order to the village. They had come in and mowed down the dead under the wheels of their tractors. Others they had decapitated with blasts from their shotguns. Aaron and the others had lied. They told him Ronnie had forced them to go along on his journey. The villagers had said otherwise but Brian’s son had told the tough welsh bastard that Aaron had been the only one to stand up to Ronnie and it was the fear of what he would do to his mother that had coerced him. Aaron told him that Ronnie had killed his mother, which was much truer than Aaron realised. It turned out that the tough welsh bastard was Brian’s younger brother, Neville.
Ronnie looked around the kitchen that he was imprisoned in. it was a normal farmhouse kitchen. Pots and pans hung from the ceiling, an Aga cooker as the centre point. Ronnie was secured on one of the wooden chairs that accompanied the other five and a traditional farmhouse table. He had been placed in the centre of the room, although the scene looked set up for interrogation and torture he suspected he was in the middle so he couldn’t cause any bother. He tried moving the chair, his feet were tied to the legs, clever he thought. Ronnie tried jostling with the ropes but they were good knots, He was secured well enough to prevent any attempt at escape, so he relaxed.
He could hear voices outside, a thick welsh accent bellowing orders and weaker voices obeying. ‘Yes Neville, I’m sorry Mr Jones,’ he heard Aaron croak.
He guessed Neville Jones was once a rugby player judging by his build. He only briefly set eyes on him before he had his lights knocked out but his shoulders almost blocked out the sun. Ronnie had fought bigger and tougher men than Neville Jones and for the moment he held the upper hand. If he had wanted Ronnie dead
he would have used the other end of the shotgun. This man was tough, no question of that but Ronnie doubted he had what it took to survive when the world really went to shit.
He heard heavy footsteps trudge up the stones steps. The key turned and the wooden door swung open. Neville Jones walked in and placed his shotgun on the table, he didn’t take his eyes off Ronnie – Ronnie’s were fixed on him. He was quiet as he boiled a kettle and fixed himself a mug. A spoonful of coffee and boiling water was all he put in his mug. He pulled a chair in front of Ronnie.
‘You’ll pay for what you did to my brother and niece,’ he said.
Ronnie said nothing.
‘You think you’re one of those hard men from across the border. That we’re all sheep shaggers – that’s what you call us isn’t it?’
He still said nothing.
‘The strong silent type I see. How about I stick my shotgun in your balls and pull the trigger like you did to old Bryn Roberts?’
‘How about you go fuck that sheep, you were talking about.’
Big Nev as he had renamed him in his head, didn’t flinch. Ronnie guessed he was expecting insolence. ‘I’ll finish my coffee first, then we can discuss who will be getting fucked.’
‘Listen Big Nev, you don’t mind first names do you,’ Ronnie didn’t wait for him to reply. ‘I’m thinking if you were going to kill me I’d be splattered across the dashboard of the car you knocked me out of.’
‘I didn’t say I was going to kill you; do you think we are savages?’ He finished his coffee and set his mug down on the table. ‘I’ll be handing you over to the authorities as soon as this infection is under control. There are enough witnesses to put you away for life.’
‘The authorities,’ Ronnie replied. ‘Are you fucking kidding me? I accept you fuck the sheep but until now I didn’t think you thought like them. If there were anyone in authority left don’t you think you would have seen them by now?’
‘The outbreak is still early; they are dealing with emergencies.’
‘That tells me you have tried ringing them and got nowhere. You probably haven’t even got through to a real voice on the other end.’ He didn’t have to admit it, Ronnie could tell by his expression.
‘I have faith that this will be rectified and you will stand trial for multiple murders,’ he said defiantly.
‘Those planes you hear thundering across the skies, do you think they are searching for survivors.’ Ronnie gave him a few seconds to contemplate his words. ‘Or do you think they may be doing reconnaissance in preparation for a bombing run on the infected areas.’ He gave him longer with that one.
‘We have jets flying over here all the time. A couple nearly crashed into each other over Bala Lake last year.’
‘Thanks for the history lesson,’ he said sarcastically. ‘I have been awake for a while now and admittedly I’m no plane spotter but if I were I’d have pissed myself with excitement at the number of times I’ve heard them go over.’
‘We’ll see,’ was all he could muster in response.
‘Tell me did you like your brother,’ Ronnie asked. He twitched a little when Big Nev shot out of his chair at speed. ‘Hang on a minute, it’s only a question.’
He picked up the shotgun. ‘My brother was a prick but my niece was a fine woman.’ Then he hit Ronnie on the other side of his head and put him to sleep for a second time.
*
When he woke up his hands and feet had been untied and he was lying on the floor, the chair next to him. He was feeling groggy, a whack on both temples will do that to a person. He lay there for a second on the cold tile floor trying to get his bearings, He could hear screaming. Ronnie pushed himself up on all fours and reached for the table. As he pulled myself up he could see his shotgun and axe had been left there, He didn’t remember them being there earlier. He pushed the cartridges into his pocket, shoved the axe into his belt and checked the gun. The gun was ready to go. He looked through the window and could see a battle between the living and the dead. The living were outnumbered.
Aaron was beating away the dead then putting an axe through their skulls. Big Nev was like an invading Viking, he swung a metre-long sledgehammer with one hand and a felling axe almost as long with the other. He swung them both with ease. He was surrounded by crumpled bodies all painted with their own blood. Ronnie may have underestimated this man, he doubted he could’ve done more damage if he had driven a combine harvester through the village. He had a knack for violence, swing his axe, split a skull, swing his hammer and crush a skull. His only weakness, he was tiring and the dead weren’t. He had his shotgun strapped to his back but the moment he stopped swinging the dead would be on him.
Aaron was fairing much better, he was using brains instead of brawn. Most of the time he was attacking the dead from behind. They were slow he was quick. He seemed to be enjoying himself. Time to enter the fray and fuck off Ronnie thought.
The cottage that Ronnie had been secured in was up on an incline so he could virtually see everything that was going on. He could see the Rover station wagon parked close to the village entrance and now his exit. He turned the handle of the door, no surprise that it had opened. Whoever had left his weapons had been kind enough to unlock the door. The first thing that hit him when he stepped out into the fresh air was the odour of death. He could smell fresh blood and shit, like an abattoirs. The second thing was that fucking chicken racing towards him again, only this time there was a dead woman stumbling after it.
He didn’t want to alert too many people dead or alive to his position so he kicked the chicken and split the dead woman. She must’ve caught the other chicken because her lips were crimson and her moustache was made of feathers.
He stepped over her and entered the battle.
Ronnie made his way over to Aaron. ‘I guess I have you to thank for the ropes and weapons.’
‘I sneaked in when it all kicked off here,’ he said.
‘How did it get like this? Fuck it, it doesn’t matter just let’s get out of here. Don’t suppose you know where the keys to the tank are do you.’
He nodded towards Big Nev. ‘The big fucker has them.’
‘Great,’ he said. ‘I best go and get them. Try not to get eaten while I’m gone.’
‘I’m the one who rescued you,’ he said. ‘Try not to get beaten…again.’
Ronnie did smile on my way over to Big Nev. His hands weren’t tied this time so Big Nev was going to have a new challenge on his hands. Ronnie’s job was made much easier. By the time he got to him he had just about spent his energy. A couple of the dead had stumbled into him and knocked him backwards causing him to trip over the mangled dead. Ronnie took out the first one with a swing of his axe. The other one was wrestling with Big Nev on the floor. Ronnie pulled it off and stomped its head into the mud.
He looked up at Ronnie. ‘Just do it you murdering bastard.’
‘Keys.’ He said.
He barely had the strength to pull the keys from his pocket. He tossed them in Ronnie’s direction. He shoved the axe into his belt and picked up the keys.
He put his hand out to Big Nev, he looked at him suspiciously, pretty much the same way Aaron had looked at him. ‘We haven’t got time to fuck about you big lump and you don’t look as though you have the energy to get up on your own, so let’s move it.’
Big Nev reached out and with effort, Ronnie pulled him to his feet. He bent over to catch a breath by the time he stood up straight Ronnie had the shotgun pointing at him.
‘You prick,’ he said.
‘I’ve been called worse, now get out of the way,’ he replied.
Big Nev turned and moved just in time to see the dead creature lunge towards him. The blast opened up its chest and tore away the bottom half of its face.
‘You’re welcome,’ he said. ‘If you want to stay alive I suggest you pick up those and follow me.’ Ronnie didn’t hear any more insults or argument.
Getting to the tank was not as easy as he first thought. Whi
le he was assisting Big Nev another horde had worked its way into the village. Most of the dead wore civilian clothing however it was clear to see why no assistance from the authorities had come. Several of the dead were wearing uniforms, police, paramedic and army. What intrigued Ronnie about the young dead soldier was his backpack, it was still attached to him. The Glock that was still holstered and strapped to his leg and the body armour that he wore would come in useful.
It also told him a couple of things, like the army had been deployed somewhere, maybe everywhere and that it hadn’t mattered. Leave no one behind is usually the motto of soldiers or their regiments. Either this one was a deserter or his comrades had also fallen.
The villagers were beginning to thin out and it wouldn’t be long before the only thing walking around would be the dead, the fight was almost over. Ronnie motioned for Big Nev, Aaron and another kid who if he remembered rightly was called Gareth to move towards the tank. It was more a case of dodging and fighting their way through than standing toe to toe with the dead. Ronnie advanced towards the dead soldier.
He hit a few of the dead as he went, none of his blows delivered death but they parried the outstretched arms and caused a group of dead to topple. As he passed the soldier he grabbed him by his body armour and dragged him along. He pulled him into a front garden and pushed him to the floor. He secured the gate behind him. The wall that separated Ronnie from the rest of the dead was just taller than waist high, he was safe for now.
The soldier reached out and grabbed his leg, Ronnie kicked the dead hand away. His hands were small. The dead soldier looked him in the eyes, all rage and hunger came back from the stare. He was young, probably still in his late teens. Too young to do some things but old enough to go to war and get himself killed, twice. His face was intact from any sort of bite, his neck and arms all covered up. His face had turned almost transparent, his veins snaking along his face. His eye were opaque with bursts of bloodshot in the corners. His mouth was an ugly gash across his face, housing gnashing teeth that were now stained with blood and decaying human flesh.
The Good, The Bad & The Dead | Book 1 | Once Upon A Time In An Undead World Page 18
