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

by Grimes, A. L.

  Amy noticed that Jack had been quiet since the talk about Adam’s parents. She put her arm around him. ‘How you are holding up?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m a bit nervous about going outside,’ he replied.

  ‘We all are but we have Frank now,’ she smiled at him. ‘But I don’t mean that.’

  ‘I’ve accepted that my mum has gone, I just don’t want her walking around trying to eat people.’

  ‘We can ask my dad if we can go and find her at some stage.’

  ‘I don’t see that happening, Anglesey is not around the corner,’ he said.

  ‘No it isn’t,’ she didn’t know what else to say.

  Adam walked out of a doorway holding a box and eating cold pizza. ‘A slice each,’ he said. ‘I’m guessing this will be the last time we taste this.’

  Monroe barked, her favourite.

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Manchester, Salford.

  A lot of the crews had been put to work at the Etihad, extinguishing the fire. It had worked however more of the dead had poured into the city from the suburbs, something Harry was trying to prevent.

  ‘The fire is out H but we have encountered a few problems around the city,’ said Bull.

  ‘What sort of problems?’

  ‘The dead sort,’ interrupted Erik. ‘While we had the crews dousing the stadium, we were thin on the ground. The dead have seeped back into the city and we also lost a few of the crews. A couple got overrun trying to clean up and another got taken out by a small explosion at the stadium, gas canisters to be accurate.’

  ‘Fuck, how many men?’ Asked Harry.

  ‘Eighteen, three six men crews. We have bashed in a few doors and got replacements, but they were our men, loyal and committed. What we have now is a bunch of snot noses and old men…I’d bet we are replacing those in a couple of days,’ said Bull.

  ‘Anyone I know, I mean well?’ Asked Harry.

  ‘To far down the chain for you H, but one of them was Bamber’s nephew. He got blown and charred at the Etihad.’

  ‘How’s Bamber?’

  ‘He’s a bit pissed to be fair, after all he was the one who started the fire,’ replied Bull.

  ‘Give him whatever he wants,’ said Harry.

  ‘Already taken care of,’ said Bull.

  ‘Really, what did he ask for?’

  Bull looked at Erik, Harry looked at them both. Bull smiled. He said he wanted that nice house around the corner. The one the police inspector lives in, or should I say, ‘lived in’,

  ‘Where is the inspector and his wife?’

  Bull smiled again. ‘His wife was a bit younger and smarter. She decided she liked the look of Bamber, and I do believe she is cooking him his favourite meal as we speak. The inspector was last seen running down the road with a bloody nose.’

  ‘Why the bloody nose?’ Asked Harry.

  ‘He attempted to arrest Bamber.’

  *

  Later that day Harry took a drive around his city. The crews were working twice as hard for double the reward. Harry could see the remaining dead migrating towards the Etihad stadium. He had told his men to erect huge speakers inside the stadium and boom out some music…currently it was Oasis, don’t look back in anger…Harry smiled.

  He had his men stake a dozen wooden poles around the centre circle. Tied to those poles were ten men and two women who had been a pain in the arse to Harry before the world turned to shit. Their screams could be heard when the music stopped.

  ‘I have to say H, that was a fucking good plan with the Etihad. The dead are moving towards the ground more quickly than we anticipated.’ Said Bull. ‘It’s freeing up the crews to pick off any stragglers.’

  ‘Good, how is the rounding up of the civilians going?’ Asked Harry.

  ‘A little bit slower,’ replied Erik. ‘We are meeting with some resistance. People don’t want to leave their homes, regardless of the offers of protection we are giving.’

  ‘Be more persuasive,’ said Harry.

  ‘The men are breaking skulls, then we have casualties. It makes the whole exercise take longer,’ said Bull.

  ‘Take me, I’ll show you how to handle it…then I don’t want to hear this problem again.’

  *

  Harry travelled along Regent Road surveying the supermarkets and fuel stations. They were all empty of their goods now, Bull had seen to that on Harry’s instructions. He knew the looters would eventually storm the shops he just beat them to it and also beat a few of them he caught. He declared it the property of Harry Flowers, the new mayor of Manchester. When the looter had told Bull to fuck off, he beat him that severely when he woke from his coma, he was one of the dead. Bull had him chained to the outside as a warning, the other looters he let go to carry the warning.

  Harry watched as the dead looter, still chained gawped at him as they sped past. ‘Your doing?’ Harry said looking at Bull.

  ‘Done as a warning, the words followed with the others I caught,’ he replied.

  Harry looked perplexed. ‘On the way back put it out of its misery’.

  Bull could see Harry was serious, ‘Sure thing H’.

  They made a few turnings and entered a warren of streets in Salford, not far from the motorway. The people here stuck together, it was a rough and tough area. The police stopped walking the beat here years before it went nationwide. In the rare event the police were called it was on masse they arrived, a couple of riot vans always hung back, ready to rescue colleagues.

  Harry disliked the area, mainly because the Makin brothers lived here, and the rest of the residents believed that gave them the right to put the proverbial finger up to him. Harry hadn’t seen any of the brothers since the apocalypse started, maybe they were hiding…he was banking on his presence bringing them out. Two birds and all that.

  Harry could see the scene as they drove along Gore Avenue, all speed bumps, overgrown gardens and broken fences. At the far end that connected the road to Gore Crescent he could see cars blocking the way. His men were standing with arms folded, Bamber was attempting to negotiate with a man in his early twenties.

  Harry recognised the man, he was a mouthy bastard, something he had picked up from his cousin. Joe Johnson had lived on the estate all his life he had followed in the footsteps of his kin, the Makin’s. He pumped his body full of testosterone and his mind full of big ideas. He believed that he had what it took to wrestle power from Harry. Harry had heard the rumours, but he heard lots of shit talked about him. Bull had offered to ‘kneecap’ him several times. Harry had always said no, mainly because Ronnie Makin would cause too much trouble that would affect business. Bull couldn’t understand why Harry didn’t ‘take care’ of Ronnie. Harry knew that was much easier said than done. That was then, things had changed, the world was about to change. Harry had no issues with wiping them all out now.

  Harry’s range rover pulled up in front of the crowd. Bamber approached and told Harry about Johnson’s demands. Harry wasn’t really listening. Johnson was flanked by his dad, a lot smaller than him. He appeared to be telling his son to back off, his mother was pulling his arm. The offer that Bamber had made on Harry’s behalf was that all the males went to work for him in the clean-up crews, the females would be given shelter and protection at Old Trafford until the city was deemed safe. Then everybody would contribute to the community in return for food, water, fuel and all the resources that were available.

  Johnson’s response ‘What’s stopping me from taking them?’

  Harry strode forward with purpose and an answer. Johnson grinned in defiance. Harry pulled a Glock from his waistband. The grin slipped from Johnson’s face. He was sure his life was about to end as Harry raised the gun. He followed the barrel of the gun; it wasn’t aimed at him.

  Johnson screamed, ‘Noooo’.

  The first bullet ripped through his dad’s cheekbone and burst out through the back of his skull. Bone, blood and gore splattered Johnson’s face and mother. He looked at his mother in shock as her
face disintegrated in front of him. The second bullet hit her in the temple, bursting her eyeballs on its travels. More gore hit Johnson. Both his parents crumpled to the floor at his feet. The crowd separated, giving the Johnson’s space. The third bullet shattered Johnson’s kneecap and put him on the floor next to his parents.

  Bull, Erik and several of Harry’s men drew weapons and aimed them at the crowd. The people shrank as they prepared for their turn. Harry’s men acted on instinct; he hadn’t shared his plan on the journey.

  A woman in her late fifties, raised her hands, ‘Please Mr Flowers, no more we’ll come, we accept your protection’.

  ‘Sure you will,’ he replied. He lowered himself in front of Johnson. ‘Your father was a good man; I knew him when we were younger. If you had half his brains, he would still be alive. It’s people like you that cause aggravation to others by not accepting the order of things. You have stood behind your cousins reputation, which by the way is fuck all and now you are lying on the floor screaming like a baby, in your own piss and shit and your parents are dead because you’re an imbecile.’

  ‘Round them up Bamber,’ said Bull.

  Weapons were lowered and orders given.

  Harry stared intently at Johnson; his screams had lowered to a whimper. Johnson’s eyes were burning with tears and rage. Harry knew what he was going to say, and he didn’t want to hear it. He shot him between the eyes and the whimpering stopped. The crowd jumped in unison at the sudden gunshot. Bamber jumped and took cover. Erik, Bull and the others jumped too but they drew their weapons at the same time.

  ‘Jesus fuck Harry’, said Bull.

  ‘I didn’t like what he was saying’.

  Bull looked at Erik, ‘He didn’t speak’, they said in unison.

  ‘He was about to’, said Harry putting the gun back into his waistband.

  The woman in her late fifties began screaming. She didn’t scream at the bloodshed in front of her, she pointed past Harry’s range rover.

  Harry, Bull and Erik all leaned to their side to see past the huge motor. Working their way towards them was a twenty strong group of the dead. To the right of the avenue more of the dead poured out of the side streets.

  ‘Let’s get you out of here H,’ said Bull.

  ‘I want to know who is responsible for this area, the dead are supposed to be clear or at least thinned out,’ said Harry.

  Bamber popped up from behind a parked car. Bull nodded in his direction. Harry had fury in his eyes. Bamber started to run, the dead advanced.

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Seaforth, The Lighthouse by the beach.

  Tom, Billie-Jo and Claudia all huddled around each; Lola was glad of the extra warmth. The rain still bashed them, but the wind seemed to be easing.

  ‘Where the fuck is he,’ snarled Tom. ‘I knew I should have gone with him.’

  ‘It looks like it has a few floors to go through, give him a chance,’ replied Claudia defending Ben’s lack of urgency.

  ‘At least the wind seems to be letting up,’ chipped in Billie-Jo.

  ‘Thank god for some good fortune,’ sniped Tom. ‘At least the rain is now falling straight instead of little needle pricks in our face.’

  ‘There’s no need to get your tighty whities in a bunch with me,’ fired back Billie-Jo.

  This made Tom laugh and break some of the stress. ‘You definitely watch too much American TV, ‘tighty whities’, you crank.’

  ‘I had to say something before you gave yourself a coronary, your face was turning crimson.’

  ‘That could’ve been wind burn,’ he replied.

  ‘There’s no such thing as ‘wind burn’,’ laughed Billie-Jo.

  Claudia nudged them both. She directed them to Ben, who was waving from the doorway of the lighthouse.

  ‘About time,’ said Billie-Jo. She laughed and flipped Tom the finger.

  They all moved towards the rundown structure. What was once a white exterior was now stained several shades of brown leading into black. It was a miserable looking building.

  *

  Ben looked quite flustered when they approached him. Claudia was first to greet him. Tom tugged at Billie-Jo to get her attention. He attempted to be discreet.

  ‘What?’ She asked.

  ‘Keep it down,’ he said putting his forefinger to his lips. ‘Something’s not right here.’

  ‘Like what?’ She asked.

  ‘I don’t know until I get in there but stay sharp.’ He replied.

  ‘Ok, but let’s get in first, it’s freezing out here,’ he couldn’t argue with that.

  They all passed through the front door; Ben bolted it behind them.

  Tom gave Billie-Jo the eyes. ‘Are you alright mate?’ he asked Ben.

  ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ He replied a bit too suspiciously.

  ‘For one you seem a bit on edge,’ said Tom.

  ‘Who wouldn’t be in this shitty world right now,’ defended Claudia.

  Tom was getting his bearings in the room. Piles of abandoned crap all around them. He was sensing a bad feeling about being locked in a room. He wasn’t claustrophobic however he had grown a sense of anxiety around the dead in the past few hours.

  ‘Right Ben, what the fuck is going on because you are starting to creep me out. And if I can be blunt…I don’t fucking like it.’ Tom placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. It made the rest of them twitch.

  ‘Careful Tom,’ said Claudia. ‘We are all friends here.’ She noticed Billie-Jo edging closed to Tom. ‘Aren’t we? She asked.

  ‘He’s right,’ said Ben. ‘It’s not good up there.’ He nodded towards the upper floors.

  ‘Why, what’s up there Ben?’ Asked Claudia.

  ‘Death, destruction, blood, guts and fucking Dale. He didn’t deserve to die like that.’

  ‘Is he…’

  ‘No,’ interrupted Ben. ‘He was dead when I found him, his guts leaking across the floor. There was another thing stalking about, that’s what must have got to Dale.’

  ‘What’s happened to it?’ Asked Claudia.

  ‘I’ve smashed it’s brains in,’ he replied.

  Ben sat on the steps, exhausted, his body slumped. Claudia reached across to put her arms around his shoulder. He shrugged her off.

  ‘I’m just trying to offer comfort, we have been through a fair bit together in a short period,’ said Claudia. ‘I imagine what you have just had to endure upstairs was a turning point.’

  ‘The thing must have been feasting on him while he was too weak to move,’ replied Ben.

  ‘Could you tell how he died?’ Asked Tom gently.

  ‘His innards were spilled across the floor, nearly broke my bloody neck on them. I told you this.’

  ‘I mean, the dead have a habit of getting up and walking about if their brains haven’t been punctured. Did he have any visible head trauma?’

  ‘I don’t know, I didn’t think or have time to look when the other one came crashing out of the toilet.’

  While they had been talking Lola had been released from her warmth and had been allowed to roam freely…she headed upstairs, Billie-Jo had followed. The dog had sniffed at the dead thing lying sprawled across the floor, Billie-Jo moved her along. Lola headed into the kitchen. Billie-Jo mooched about the room, she noticed Dale’s arm twitch. She stopped and looked closely; his dead eyes opened.

  ‘We’ve got a live one, I mean dead…well you know what I mean. Dale is moving and his guts are spilling all over the floor,’ she shouted.

  By the time they had thundered up the staircase Billie-Jo had put the old sea dog back down. He was back in the same place that Ben had found him, minus an eye.

  Tom slid across Dale’s guts, coming to a stop with a crash, he managed to stay on his feet. Claudia stood on the other corpse lying across the floor.

  ‘It smells like shit in here,’ she said as she put her forearm across her mouth.

  ‘I think that’s on me,’ said Tom. ‘I may have ruptured that poor fella’s stomach
as I skidded across the floor.’

  ‘Get away from there, I’m tired of telling you,’ said Billie-Jo to Lola who had now re-entered the carnage and was sniffing around the human debris. She picked up the dog and scolded her. ‘You’re going to end up a zombie dog if you keep poking around the dead people. What would Uncle Tom think?’

  Tom rolled his eyes. ‘Eventually you know we will have to eat her to survive.’

  Billie-Jo hoped he was joking. She tucked Lola back into her coat for safe keeping.

  ‘Where’s Ben?’ Asked Billie-Jo.

  ‘I’m here,’ he replied walking up the stairs.

  ‘You took your time responding to Billie-Jo’s cry for help,’ his smile was slight.

  ‘It was hardly a cry for help, I was informing…’ His smile had got wider. ‘You’re a dick,’ she said.

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t feel too good.’ Ben’s head spun followed by the space around him. He remembered the room going sideways before he hit the floor.

  *

  Ben was back home, sitting on his sofa watching tv. He wasn’t watching anything in particular, the screen was on, but his ears were primed to the noise coming from the kitchen. He could hear Jill crashing about, moving pots, clanking plates and the increasing bubble of the kettle. He remembered asking if her if she needed help or had he. Maybe he should. He attempted to move, his legs felt heavy, his arms dead weights. He did feel tired, it had been a busy week at work. Besides Jill was the type that would demand help if she needed it.

  It’s your day off he told himself, relax, enjoy the downtime. He pushed himself further into the sofa and waited for his breakfast. The early morning rubbish that paraded itself as quality tv was interrupted by a news flash, breaking news…The world was dead, people are dead, people were coming back to life…PEOPLE ARE EATING EACH OTHER…

  Ben began to shout, scream. He shouted for Jill. She entered the living room, holding a frying pan in one hand and an egg in the other. ‘How do you want your eggs this morning,’ she asked.

  She stood in front of Ben, dressed in her work gear. Her eyes were milky white, the front of her jacket was covered in her blood from the gaping wound in her neck. The blackness that Ben had descended into went as quickly as it came as he woke up with a start. He noticed quickly that he was lying on the same sofa where he had found Dale. His hands and legs were bound with rope. His fellow survivors stood over him, Tom was pointing the business end of the sword menacingly in his direction.