Billie-Jo picked herself up and raced to Tom’s aid.
Tom got to his feet gingerly and with the assistance of Billie-Jo, Lola yapped at him. He was unsure if she was showing concern or annoyance.
‘Are you ok?’ asked Billie-Jo.
‘A bruised arse and a sore elbow, everything else feels fine,’ he replied.
‘Are you sure,’ she said disbelievingly. ‘You have just performed an involuntary cartwheel over a speeding car. And you do have some blood pouring down the side of your face.’
He touched his head, feeling a damp patch. He winced. ‘It’s just a scratch, nothing I can’t survive. I’m in a lot better shape than her or him, whoever they are eating,’ he said pointing in the direction of the blazing car.
‘Fair enough,’ she replied. ‘And you’ve pissed yourself.’
All of his body ached as he twisted his neck to look down at his pants. ‘Witch,’ he called her as he realised, she was having some fun.
‘I almost had to put bruised ego on your list of injuries,’ she said with a smile.
‘Next time, I’ll leave you and your little ferret standing in the way of any speeding vehicles,’ he replied with a smile of his own.
Lola barked at the insult. ‘Me and Lola would like to say thank you to the horrible man, wouldn’t we,’ she said tickling the dog under the chin.
‘You’re welcome both of you, now let’s move before they get any closer.’
The dead had sensed their next meal and advanced slowly.
Tom groaned as he jogged across the grass, Billie-Jo laughed as she watched him rub the landing spot on his arse. She straightened her face when he turned towards her snort.
‘It really hurts,’ he said with a half-smile.
‘I’m not surprised, it was quite a spectacular collision. At one stage during your somersault I thought you were going to land on your feet…then your arse got in the way.’
He stopped and let out a loud belly laugh. Billie-Jo laughed too. ‘I’m glad the car didn’t hit you or Lola, I’d miss having you both around to take the piss,’ he said sincerely.
‘We are both a delight to have for company,’ she said, Lola yapped.
‘Let’s not get too carried away with the self-praise,’ he said with a grin. ‘Besides…’
He was cut off mid-sentence by what sounded like a woman’s scream, quickly followed by a man’s. They looked at each other. Tom had only just become aware of his surroundings…their journey had taken them to a hotel on the edge of the lake.
They both drew their swords and headed around the corner. A handful of the dead were looking upwards, hands reaching, they both followed the scene. A woman dangled, she was attached to a man at one end and what looked like a bear on the other. To add to the inconvenience it appeared that more of the dead were falling out of a window. They clanged swords and went to work.
Chapter Fifty-One
On the road, North, UK.
Miles had watched as the black 4x4 had followed him out of the estate. He had taken it easy through the maze of streets as the dead stumbled across his path. Abandoned cars were left on driveways, doors open and blood smears. Some were left at curious angles in the street, as though a loved one had rushed into the home to help only to be confronted by the horror of the dead up on their feet.
He imagined every household across the country would be the same. People waking up to another repetitive and mundane day only to realise that this day would probably be their last. His day had been eventful, not like the past few years that had become routine. Every day he managed to stay alive without effort, from now on would it be different.
He doubted the people following him were looking for friendship, he guessed they’d have tried to communicate by now. Instead they just followed when he sped up a bit, so did they. As the road cleared of debris including the dead, Miles slowed to a stop. The 4x4 halted. Miles watched in his rear-view mirror. He could see at least two males in the front, possibly a third in the back. They looked to be in their early twenties, probably thinking they already owned what was left in the world. Nothing’s changed he thought.
He pushed the accelerator and moved forward slowly a couple of hundred yards then stopped suddenly. The 4x4 copied his movements. He did this a couple of times and watched as the passenger became irate and issued commands. Miles smiled, when the time came to end this game of chase - Miles wanted to make sure the intimidator got what he deserved. They were too dumb to realise that the monster they were chasing was far worse than the monsters chasing them.
They hadn’t noticed the dead woman walk up beside their car. They were too busy shouting at each other. The guy who had assumed command jumped as the dead woman slapped her bloody hand on the window. She was still dressed in her night wear, hair matted red with blood. Chunks of flesh missing from her arms and legs. Her face a mask of red with those dead white eyes prominent.
Miles watched as the passenger turned towards the window. The dead woman stretched forward as the window lowered before a bang followed by a flash sent her flying backwards. Her head evaporated in a haze of red mist as chunks of bone and head meat scattered across the road, her body crashed to the floor. The game is on thought Miles as he floored the accelerator, the engine roared - this time he didn’t slow down.
*
His pursuers were slow to react, they were still congratulating themselves by the time they realised Miles had taken off. The driver cranked the gears and took off in pursuit. Miles had a good lead on them, he smiled as the 4x4 crashed and bumped into other vehicles in its path. Miles eased off the speed a little, he didn’t want them to lose interest. By the time they caught him up and they would, it would be too late. They wouldn’t realise that even though they were doing the chasing, it would be them that had been caught. Miles felt he had a duty to protect the other innocents of the new world from tyrannical maniacs. People in the old world would call him a maniac, they never understood him – he doubted they even tried. Dr Martin understood, eventually. The new world would be full of victims, people who would need protecting from the dead. They would do anything to survive except kill. They would simply follow as they had done in their previous life. He had always dreamed of an uprising to end the current dictatorship we call freedom…instead the world would watch on as the dead walked.
Miles hurtled along the road dodging abandoned cars and the dead. The 4x4 tagged the cars and crushed the dead. Miles could see their excitement building with each creature they disintegrated. Miles sped past a university, creatures wandering, students running. A young man with blonde hair ran from the campus into the road, he had managed to escape the horde. The 4x4 was bearing down on him, he waved his hands. The driver increased the speed, the car hit with enough force to break bones but not kill him. It sent him crashing through the air landing heavily on the road. Miles hit the brakes hard, the Mercedes shrieked along the rough road, leaving plenty of rubber on the ground behind it. He could see the idiots in the 4x4 celebrating as the dead fell upon the injured man. He stepped from the car and wielded the axe in his hand, the game was over.
The driver got the attention of the leader and pointed at Miles. Miles looked serious; he was serious. The leader smiled as they drew up close to Miles. He lowered the window, stuck out his head followed by the gun. He pointed it at Miles.
‘You’ve brought an axe to a gun fight,’ he said with a smirk.
Miles reckoned that the dick with the gun wouldn’t hit him from that distance, not while an axe was flying through the air towards him.
‘If your shooting is as good as his driving, then I’ll take my chances,’ he responded sarcastically.
The smirk vanished.
*
Frank Mitchell had watched the chase as he drove along the A road. He hadn’t intended to get involved; he had expected the chase to have passed him by the time he got to the intersection. When the car being chased had skidded to a halt and the unassuming man had emerged with an axe Frank felt an inevita
bility sweep over him. The Mercedes had stopped just short of the roundabout that Frank needed to access. The 4x4 had stopped directly in his path. He felt the same anger that Miles had felt when the 4x4 had struck the student.
Frank had had a double seatbelt installed in the driver seat of his land rover, he clicked the second into place. He doubled strapped Monroe, she looked at him. He shrugged. The crash bars rattled as he sped forward.
*
Anger replaced the smirking face; he aimed the gun. Miles turned at the roar of the engine. The driver shrieked as he looked to see the grey battering ram grow larger. The leader tried to pull his arm back in. The Land Rover slammed into the 4x4. The side of the 4x4 crumpled inwards, the impact lifted it off its wheels and on to its side. The leader wasn’t quick enough to pull his arm back in. The arm was ripped from his body, it flew through the air and fell to the floor still holding the gun. The leader slammed into the driver as all three were bounced around. Frank had gripped the steering wheel hard; the double seatbelt had held him firm. His neck had jolted slightly but nothing he couldn’t work out. He released the belts and stepped out from the Rover; he shook his head at Monroe. He inspected the damage. The roll bars were bent but apart from some scratches and a few dents, it was good. Miles watched as Frank surveyed the carnage, this one is special he thought.
Frank walked towards the severed arm, he bent to pick up the gun. A Glock 17, police issue. He checked the magazine, thirteen 9mm rounds left. He shoved the gun into his waistband. He looked towards Miles. ‘You don’t mind do you?’ he said gesturing towards the gun.
‘Not at all, the spoils of war,’ he smiled. ‘You’ve earned it. Thank you by the way, your entrance was spectacular.’
Frank ignored the compliment. He walked towards the overturned 4x4. A Hyundai, that’s why it folded so easily. He kicked in what was left of the windscreen and dragged out the driver and the one armed leader. He threw them into the middle of the road. The person in the back had landed on his neck, his eyes were wide open, his body still.
The one-armed leader crawled across the road towards his severed limb. He picked it up and tried to make it fit. He was in too much shock to feel the pain of his mangled nerve endings.
Miles was curious, ‘What are we going to do with them,’ he asked.
‘You can do whatever you want with him,’ said Frank pointing towards one arm. ‘This little shit-bag is going to learn about justice quickly’. He walked towards the driver.
The driver tried to scurry back, ‘No, please don’t.’ His pleas fell on deaf ears as Frank moved towards him. Frank took out a ball hammer from his side pocket. He kicked out at Frank, who caught the weak ankle in his firm grip.
The driver felt his knee shatter as the iron ball pulverised bone. He screamed, then cried as Frank dished out the same treatment to his other knee. By the time he had crushed his hands and snapped his elbows the driver was unconscious.
Miles stared in amazement at the disciplined and ruthless efficiency that Frank had demonstrated in disabling his adversary. Granted the driver had been a snivelling snot bag but even so Miles still imagined him to be a handful for anybody, including him. It had been a long time since Miles had liked anybody, truly liked them.
He smiled at the one-armed leader, ‘Let’s make you symmetrical,’ he barely felt the pain as the axe cleaved through his other arm.
Frank turned to see the arc of the axe swing through the air and take off the leaders head. The head bounced past Frank. He reached down and slapped the driver awake.
‘Fuck you,’ he said spitting blood at Frank. He missed his face and caught his arm.
Frank wiped the spittle from his sleeve, ‘No, fuck you,’ he said and pointed towards the crowd of dead moving towards them.
‘Noooooo, you can’t leave me.’ Please.’
Frank left him and walked towards his Rover. Miles leaned across the bonnet. He extended his hand as Frank approached. ‘Miles Wilson, thanks for the help.’
‘The way you handled the axe I’d say my help may have been a bit premature, excuse me,’ he replied as he moved past Miles.
Miles smiled, this one wouldn’t be taken lightly. ‘Which way you headed in this dead world?’
‘Why you asking?’
‘You looking for company?’
‘Are you?’ he replied quickly.
‘I wasn’t until I met such an interesting person as yourself. Now I see the advantages of travelling with someone like you.’ Miles was very sincere.
‘Is there no place you should be heading, wife, kids some other family member you should be saving.’
‘Who are you going to save?’ asked Miles a little too eager.
Frank turned sharply towards Miles; he didn’t flinch. He too could see the benefits of travelling with another, he could also see the dangers. ‘I’m going to Leeds to get my daughter.’
‘Leeds, never been, should be interesting. Do you want me to drive?’
‘I’ll drive,’ snapped Frank. You can put that axe on the back seat. Do I need to watch you?’
Miles jumped into the passenger seat; Frank climbed in next to him. ‘I’d be surprised and a little disappointed if you didn’t.’ He extended his hand again. ‘Miles.’
He took the hand this time, ‘Frank Temple,’ he said with a strong handshake and firmer stare. Monroe’s face popped up between them.
‘Do you like dogs,’ asked Frank.
‘Adorable creatures,’ replied Miles.
‘Good.’ Said Frank as he stroked Monroe. ‘You’re sitting in her chair.’
Monroe lay across him. ‘It’ll be my pleasure,’ he said stroking her from head to tail. Monroe as usual took in the attention.
‘Traitor,’ he said to her.
Miles smiled back, ‘At least one eye on the road Frank Temple, those monsters are getting close.’
Frank started the engine and sped off towards the motorway. The monsters fell upon the driver.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Manchester, Salford.
Hazel had been stuck in the house since the outbreak, she felt like a prisoner. She was feeling claustrophobic being cooped up especially with her new house guest. While civilisation was crumbling outside, she was expected to be civilised to the woman who was carrying her husband’s child.
She looked out the window of her bedroom, sucking hard on her false cigarette. The sprawling grounds were patrolled by armed men. The access roads blocked by Harry’s trucks of destruction. Escaping would be more difficult than she anticipated especially as she was now performing wet nurse duties to Harry’s incubator.
The dead had not reached her home yet, well not in any force to raise concern. A few of the dead had wandered along the road but they were soon put down by Harry’s men. Even Harry had ventured out for some target practice, his preferred weapon was a baseball bat. Hazel had watched him as he took pleasure in bashing in the brains of the dead.
Harry was spending most of his time out of the house, business as usual for him. He wasn’t one to let an apocalypse stand in his way. He was exerting more power throughout the city, recruiting people to his cause in return for essential supplies and security.
When he had turned up to the house with Melanie, Hazel had started a row she knew she would lose. ‘Not a fucking chance,’ she screamed.
‘She is staying, that’s the end of it,’ snapped Harry.
‘Not in my fucking house,’ she snarled back.
‘It’s my house,’ he said blankly.
‘Well it’s not big enough for the both of us.’
Melanie looked embarrassed, she had had the same choice as Hazel about the arrangement, which was no choice at all.
‘It’s got seven bedrooms,’ he said sarcastically.
‘Funny fucker, you know what I mean.’
‘She is staying, that’s final. I want you to show her around, make up a bedroom and try and keep her relaxed, what with her condition and all.’ He gave his best smile.
‘Are you fucking joking, tell me this is a wind up or have you finally lost your fucking mind.’ He was now adding an insult to the injury he had already caused. ‘You want me to play happy families to the slut you got knocked up? Not a chance as I’ve already said.’
Melanie’s face was burning red, more from the fact she was standing in front of her lover’s wife than being called a slut. ‘I can stay at my mums,’ she said meekly.
Harry put a reassuring arm around her, ‘You’re staying here and it’s not safe outside. Hazel is just a bit grouchy; she’ll get used to the idea. You’ll be safer here.’
‘I wouldn’t count on that,’ hissed Hazel.
Melanie began to cry, ‘Now look what you have done,’ said Harry oblivious to his role in the upset.
Hazel knew he couldn’t be reasoned with and she was beginning to question herself for objecting in the first place. ‘It won’t work. If she stays, I’m going.’
Harry laughed so loud that Melanie jolted in his arms. ‘Go where?’
‘Give me a car and I’ll drive till I meet some nice people.’
He laughed again, ‘Nice people, there wasn’t many nice people about before all this happened. What you will find outside now is dead cannibals, murderers and rapists. The only safe place is here behind these walls that are protected by my men. It would be easier to kill yourself in here because that’s what you will effectively be doing by going outside alone.’
The Good, The Bad & The Dead | Book 1 | Once Upon A Time In An Undead World Page 27
