The Good, The Bad & The Dead | Book 1 | Once Upon A Time In An Undead World

by Grimes, A. L.

  The doors to the corridor burst open. Jack jumped back several feet. Amy prepared to attack the dead. It wasn’t a dead person that stared back but a warm bodied man holding a baseball bat. The bat was soaked in dried blood.

  ‘Adam,’ she said.

  ‘Hello Amy,’ he replied. ‘Looks like you’re in a bit of a jam.’

  Amy began to laugh hysterically. Jack looked bemused.

  The first dead creature turned the corner. ‘Are you coming?’ asked Adam.

  ‘Yes we fucking are,’ replied Jack as he grabbed Amy and pulled her through the doors.

  Adam closed the doors and secured the handles with a length of cord. Amy noticed he had been busy. Blood and lumps of flesh littered the corridor. Several bodies had been stacked at the far end. Amy felt the adrenalin rush from her body, her legs weakened then she fainted. Jack was to slow to catch her. Adam thrust the bat into Jack’s hand before picking up Amy. He motioned for Jack to follow.

  They both turned as the first hand slapped on the door, the moaning followed.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  North Wales, UK.

  Ronnie crept up the stairs of the house feeling as though he’d gone back in time. While the rest of the world had travelled twenty years into the new millennium, the house he hid in had stood still in the seventies. Floral carpets, stained wallpaper the colour of a smoker’s teeth and slate on a wall that would have been better placed on the roof. The bellowing from the army prick outside distracted him from the groan at the top of the stairs. She lunged for him as he turned the corner. Her mouth clamped around his arm, luckily for Ronnie she hadn’t put in her dentures before death had reanimated her, she did more sucking than biting. He pushed her away and drove his axe so hard into her skull that it split in two to the neck. He crept to the window staying low and peered over the sill.

  In the middle of the village stood an overweight buffoon, a handlebar moustache flapping about his face as he shouted his orders. He doubted he would be as enthusiastic if his subordinate weren’t handling a .50mm calibre gun on top of his tank. Two spotty kids flanked him, pointing their guns with reluctance.

  ‘My name is Captain Angus McTavish, I am with the Territorial reserve army and I am here to commandeer this village and put all men to the task of enlisting.’

  His name may have been Scottish but his accent was southern and pompous. Ronnie almost laughed out loud. The window was open and his voice travelled well. As he began to back myself out of the room he slipped on a bit of the old dear’s brain. He crashed hard into a bedside table littered with bottles of perfume atop a silver tray.

  He heard the slide of the .50mm rake back followed by Captain McMoustache’s order to fire. Ronnie managed to find the floor just as the first of the rounds ripped through glass, wood and masonry. Windows shattered inwards as the dated wooded furniture splintered around him. Framed photographs of the deceased occupiers were ripped from walls as large holes formed from the deadly projectiles. Ronnie covered his face as the whole room above was shredded. The gun was unrelenting and only stopped spewing out death when the ammunition box ran dry.

  ‘Reload,’ screamed McMoustache. ‘I said reload.’

  I’m going as fast as I can,’ said the sergeant manning the gun.

  ‘Well hurry up, it could be a crazy up there.’

  ‘You cockney prick, they aren’t crazy they’re fucking dead,’ shouted the sergeant.

  ‘I’ve warned you about your language and lack of respect to your superior. ‘I’ll have you court martialled when we get on top of this.’

  ‘The sad thing about that is, you actually believe it,’ said the sergeant. ‘You don’t understand that we are it and it’s not getting under control. You’re still a prick.’

  McMoustache gave up, ‘Just load the gun and fire sergeant.’

  ‘Yes prick.’

  The captain ordered one of his privates to bring Aaron forward. ‘What is your name young man?’ he asked.

  ‘Aaron,’ he replied nonchalantly.

  ‘My name is Captain…’

  ‘Yeah, prick - I heard your sergeant,’ he said with a smile.

  Aaron caught a back hand in the mouth. He spit blood on the floor. ‘I won’t have insolence from you boy, we are here to protect you, the least you can do is show some gratitude.’

  ‘We were doing fine until you showed up,’ said Aaron as he spat a wad of blood close to the captain’s boots.

  ‘The army requires discipline; I don’t think you are suitable material to be enlisted.’

  ‘You can go fuck yourself if you think I am enlisting with you,’ replied Aaron.

  ‘I could have you shot on the spot,’ declared the captain.

  ‘Like you did with Gareth,’ he said looking over at the pulped body of his dead neighbour.

  ‘That was unfortunate, your friend was caught up in friendly fire. He was in the middle of a bunch of hostiles.’

  ‘Friendly fire my arse, you came charging in here rattling that big fucking gun without a care for the civilians. Don’t worry sergeant me and Big Nev will back you up when the real army arrives.’ Aaron was smiling at the captain.

  Captain McMoustache had taken enough insults; he wasn’t prepared to take anymore.

  *

  Ronnie had taken the lapse in shooting to move himself in to the next room. The walls had been pot marked and the windows had gone, other than that it was relatively untouched. He was careful not to make any noise. He listened to the commotion being caused by the inadequate leader of the inept army.

  *

  Captain McMoustache pulled out his revolver and stuck it in the face of Aaron. ‘Now you little shit, I’ll have some respect and some answers. Who or what is mooching about in that house?’

  ‘Fuck off,’ said Aaron.

  The sergeant laughed. ‘You’ve got balls kid.’

  ‘You can fuck off too,’ he replied.

  ‘You can shoot him now,’ said the sergeant laughing again.

  ‘I’ll ask you again…’

  ‘Save your breath, you can fuck off again,’ said Aaron.

  ‘I will pull this trigger if you do not respond with an appropriate answer within the next ten seconds,’ the captain was nervous but his eyes stated he was also serious.

  ‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ shouted the voice from the window.

  The sergeant pulled back the slide on the .50mm and aimed. The others targeted their guns in the direction of the voice. ‘Show yourself,’ shouted the captain.

  Ronnie was getting pissed off by the toy soldiers delaying his escape. ‘To the prick aiming that cannon, if you rattle it off in my direction again you had best be certain that you hit me,’ he shouted out. ‘And you, the one with the lip fringe, put that gun back in its holster before you upset me further.’

  ‘Throw out your weapons,’ said the captain undeterred.

  ‘Not a fucking chance,’ said Ronnie. He knew that was an end to the conversation and anticipated the captain’s next move. He moved quickly and quietly out of the room and down the stairs.

  ‘Sergeant,’ the captain bellowed.

  ‘Yes sir,’ he replied. Before the captain could give the order the gun began to tear up the upper floors of the house. The experienced soldier made a fatal mistake, he allowed the gun to run empty again.

  Ronnie trotted around the corner holding the shotgun in front of him. The first inexperienced soldier reacted more from instinct than training. He swings his gun in Ronnie’s direction. The blast from the shotgun blew his face apart, the other soldier got the same treatment before he could react. The captain distracted by the chaos felt a jaw shuddering thump to the side of his face. Aaron gives him another whack before he could recover. The gun slipped from his hand and fell to the floor as he went down. Aaron picked up the weapon and stuck it in the captain’s face.

  ‘Don’t fucking move, prick,’ said Aaron to the captain.

  Ronnie reloaded the shotgun and jumped on the bonnet of the ar
my vehicle. ‘Shit,’ said the sergeant as he tried hastily to reload the .50mm.

  Ronnie leaned over the turret. ‘I did warn you,’ he said as he towered over the sergeant.

  The sergeant reached for his sidearm. ‘This is how you do it Big Nev.’ Ronnie blasted the sergeant twice. Blood, brain and bone erupted like a volcano blast. Ronnie laughed loud and turned towards his comrades. His face was covered in the sergeant’s blood.

  ‘What should we do with the prick? Aaron asked.

  ‘Your call,’ replied Ronnie.

  Aaron smiled. ‘No, please, no, no, no.’ pleaded the captain.

  ‘Don’t do it Aaron,’ said Big Nev.

  The truth was Aaron enjoyed his new life. A life without rules. Survival of the fittest, take what you want and fuck the rest. Ronnie had shown him the way, he wanted to impress him – he wanted to be Ronnie. Aaron ignored the pleas from both men. He emptied the gun into the captain’s face.

  Big Nev was as tough as they came but even he was frightened by the two blood-soaked maniacs standing beside him laughing at their murderous exploits.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Cheetwood, Manchester, Central UK.

  Eddie winced as the point of the blade pushed into his flesh. Laura stood to the side of him, one hand nestled in his hair the other gently pushing the blade. She didn’t say anything to him.

  ‘I’m guessing you’re pissed off about something,’ he joked. Laura pushed harder, he stopped joking.

  ‘What the fuck is wrong with you,’ he asked with an edge to his tone. Again she pushed harder. He felt a trickle of warm blood descend down his skin. She still remained silent.

  ‘If you’re going to kill me just fucking do it,’ he snapped.

  ‘I like that idea,’ she said. ‘It’s the best idea you’ve had since I met you. Put your hands flat on the table where I can see them’

  ‘C’mon babe, I was kidding,’ his attitude had submitted to the threat. He put his hands on the table.

  ‘Don’t fucking babe me,’ she hissed. Upstairs, I realised I don’t need you,’ she lied.

  He tried to turn towards her, she held his hair tight and altered the position of the knife. New site, more blood as she pressed hard.

  ‘We’re a team,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Yeah I get it,’ she said. ‘There’s no I in team but there is a fucking big me in it.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ replied Eddie, not understanding the suggestion.

  ‘It means we are a fucking team when it suits you.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I’ve just lost my brother – I’m bound to be stressed.’

  ‘You were a prick before you knew about your brother.’

  He found it difficult to argue with the truth. ‘Fair enough, I may have acted a little out of character but now you have helped me to understand my flaws.’

  She jabbed him again. ‘I’m thinking my chances of survival would be greater if I didn’t have to communicate with stupidity while fending off the dead.’

  ‘I’m not stupid,’ he snarled, now truly offended.

  ‘No, you’re impression is spot on,’

  ‘Stupid am I, you followed me here,’ he responded.

  ‘Yeah, shame on me,’ she said.

  ‘Listen,’ he said. ‘We both know we need each other. I may have been ‘a prick’ but what you did upstairs proved that you can handle yourself. If we are going to survive we need to stick together and see each other as equals.’

  She knew he was right about needing each other but ignored all the other shit coming out of his mouth. She moved the knife from his neck, changed the angle in her hand and slammed the knife into the table, millimetres from Eddie’s injured finger. He gasped and looked straight at her.

  ‘Equals,’ she mouthed as she left him to reflect.

  *

  They secured the property front and back, gathered fruit, biscuits, chocolate, cheese, crisps, soft drinks and a four pack of beer from the fridge and moved themselves back upstairs. Eddie searched for another entrance into the attic space but the stench filled room was the only one. They settled in the main bedroom that faced onto the street. The road was crowded with the dead. They seemed less animated in their own company. Eddie knew some of them, others had just gathered amongst the crowd. Front doors to homes were open, not something the inhabitants would usually do in this area. The days of leaving a door open to invite a neighbour in had passed by two decades ago. In modern times people gave a nod to a neighbour but rarely knew their name. Eddie was no different but most of his neighbours knew his name and most avoided him.

  He swilled a mouthful of beer down his throat. Laura looked at him in disgust as he wiped the spillage from his mouth across his sleeve. She was equally disgusted in herself for following him back to a hovel he called home. She should have jumped in her car and got home safely, maybe taking Ritchie back with her. She had never expected the mayhem to continue this long…then again she never expected the dead to be walking about.

  ‘We can’t stay here, eating ourselves into a diabetic coma.’ She said.

  ‘For now, it’s stay in here and eat or go out there and be eaten,’ he said pleased with his humour.

  ‘I’m going down, to try the TV, maybe the channels are still broadcasting.’

  ‘Electricity has gone,’ he said.

  ‘Fuck,’ she said a bit too loudly.

  ‘Keep it down,’ Eddie said looking towards her.

  ‘We need to get out of here,’ she replied.

  ‘Be my guest,’ he said waving a hand towards the door. ‘Close the front door behind you.’

  She swung her legs off the king size bed and joined Eddie at the window. Any attempt to make a run for it would result in a bunch of hungry dead getting a meal. She scanned the road, lots of dead people and plenty of cars.

  She looked at Eddie and grinned. He shuddered, expecting a sharp instrument. ‘What are you smiling at?’ He asked.

  ‘Does your dead neighbour have a car?’

  ‘The white van across the way.’

  She peered through the curtains. ‘We need a distraction,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t look at me,’ he replied. It was too late she was already looking at him before he finished.

  ‘I’m not running up that street trying to dodge that bunch of cannibals,’ he said. ‘No fucking chance.’

  ‘Eddie your thinking needs to be 360 degrees and not so linear.’

  ‘What the fuck does that mean.’

  ‘It means you’re fucking stupid. Now be quiet and listen to what I’ve got to say.’

  So he listened.

  *

  In the main the plan was solid; he disliked the part where he had to go back into the room with three mangled bodies. Laura reminded him he had to go back in to get his bag.

  ‘What’s so important about the bag?’ she asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ he replied.

  ‘Then why the concerns about getting it?’

  ‘I have sentimental stuff in it.’

  ‘Can you spell that?’ she teased.

  ‘Fuck you,’ he retorted.

  ‘Not again,’ she replied.

  *

  They ransacked the house from top to bottom in search of the van keys. They looked in draws, cupboards, down the settee, in the bin – Laura even caught Eddie checking the fridge.

  ‘They must be in his pockets,’ she said.

  ‘For fucks sake when will we catch a break,’ scowled Eddie.

  ‘You have to go in there anyway, it’s no big deal.’

  He shot her a hostile look; she gave it right back. ‘Let’s go and get them then,’ he said.

  The stench from the corpses had got worse in the last couple of hours. The reek suffocated them both when Eddie opened the door. He closed it quickly.

  ‘I’ll be back,’ he said.

  By the time he returned with a towel around his face, Laura was in the room and holding the keys in her hand, she was also ankle deep in shit and slime. Lau
ra swung the keys around her finger. ‘Your turn,’ she said nodding towards the attic entrance.

  He grabbed hold of a cupboard and moved it across the floor, directly beneath the hole. ‘That’ll do it,’ he said.

  He climbed on top of the cupboard, almost slipping twice, Laura hid her smile. He poked his head through the opening, he could hear the dead shuffling about in his own house. Their moaning had become quieter but that would change once they sensed him. He reached into his back pocket and took out the torch he had found while searching the house. The beam searched across the attic floor, he located the bag first and then spotted the lighter.

  ‘Spotted them both,’ he called back to Laura.

  ‘Good,’ she replied and handed him the first of his bundles.

  He tossed four bundles of tightly bunched clothing stuffed with newspaper into the attic before pulling himself up. He shuffled across the floor and retrieved the bag and lighter. He thought about tossing down the bag to Laura but he was certain she would have a look inside. He placed it by the entrance. He waved the lighter at Laura.

  ‘Good luck,’ she said genuinely.

  He winked back, ‘I don’t need luck - it’s all about skill.’

  Ten minutes later he was grateful for a lucky escape.

  *

  Laura heard him goading the dead, particularly Ritchie. She remembered hearing herself say clearly ‘No fucking about, get it done and get back.’ She must’ve forgot who she was talking too.

  ‘Eddie, leave him alone and just do the job,’ she called up.

  He ignored her and continued to bait the dead from his lofty advantage. Serves him right if he falls through she thought. She could see the strap of his backpack hanging over the ledge of the entrance. She climbed up on top of the cupboard and reached for the strap, she just failed to reach it. She stood on her tiptoes and reached out again, catching the strap between her fingers. She almost wobbled off the cupboard when the hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. A second later Eddie’s grinning face followed.

  ‘I told you I have sentimental stuff in there, not for your eyes.’

  ‘I was getting it down for you,’ she lied.