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

by Grimes, A. L.

  ‘Hi,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘Are you ok?’ He asked.

  ‘I’ve been better but I’m not complaining,’ she winked.

  Billie-Jo stood over them, ‘You too should get a room, the sooner the better. You both realise we are lying in the middle of twisted metal and body parts. Look,’ she said picking up a severed hand.

  ‘That’s gross,’ said Claudia.

  Ben arrived next to Billie-Jo. ‘Are those two ok?’ He asked.

  ‘She’s smiling, he can’t get up…you may need to throw a bucket of cold water over them both,’ she said as she walked off to inspect the carnage.

  Tom had not been this close to a woman for so long he found himself both embarrassed flattered. He dragged himself up, extending his hand to Claudia. She laughed as she pretended to pull him back towards her. His face blushed.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ said Ben as he followed Billie-Jo.

  The container had split and ripped itself apart as it hit the hard ground. It had smeared most of the dead across the dock. The smell was vomit inducing. A mixture of blood, rot and shit. It smelt like a sewer had erupted. They climbed the crumpled container. Half a dozen of the dead attempted to climb towards them, they couldn’t gain any purchase on the twisted and slick metal.

  ‘It looks we have succeeded in blocking their path,’ said Ben.

  ‘Thanks to you,’ said Billie-Jo.

  ‘Team effort, he replied.

  They turned to see Claudia wrapping her arms around Tom and planting her lips on to his. Tom went a little weak and was unable to resist.

  The four remaining dock workers woke from their dead slumber.

  ‘C’mon Ben, let’s go and see to them,’ she said nodding in their direction.’ These two are going to be pretty useless for the next ten minutes,’ she picked up Tom’s sword.

  ‘I think you may be right,’ he replied.

  Tom blocked his mother’s voice out and held on tighter.

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  Salford, Manchester.

  When Harry had fired those shots at Bull, he knew that H, his friend had gone. The years that they had spent building an empire were just a distant memory. Bull had thought it had been a trusting friendship built on loyalty. In truth it had been. Maybe Harry was just having a breakdown, Bull could accept that. He couldn’t accept that his friend had tried to kill him.

  Bull didn’t hesitate after Harry fired twice at him. His old army instincts kicked in. He dispatched three quick fire shots. He watched as each one thundered into his friend. Harry had hit the floor with a crash. That’s when Erik had seized his chance. Bull would find him and make him suffer. He picked himself up and went over to his friend. He kicked Harry’s gun away and picked up his head in his arms. He could feel the tears roll down his face.

  ‘I’m glad it was you,’ croaked Harry. ‘I couldn’t last forever; we had a good run. The business is yours now,’ he smiled.

  ‘H, it wasn’t me. I didn’t set you up. I didn’t want this. You tried to kill me…we are friends,’ sobbed Bull.

  ‘Yes we are,’ he replied.

  Bull was watching the life drain from Harry’s body. His mind searched for an answer, something that would prolong H’s life…or death. The bite of the dead caused reanimation, that was fact. Would Harry reanimate without a bite…Bull didn’t have a fucking clue. He hadn’t seen it happen, had he. He couldn’t remember, his brain was somersaulting.

  ‘Hang on H, I have a plan,’ said Bull. He did have a plan, but it wasn’t a good one. He raced outside grabbed what was left of the tenant scratching around his own garden and dragged him inside.

  The dead creature was snapping away at Bull. ‘What are you doing?’ Asked Harry in a weak voice.

  ‘I hope I’m doing enough to keep you alive…dead…both until somebody finds a fucking cure,’ he replied.

  ‘I don’t want this,’ he croaked.

  ‘You didn’t want three bullets in the chest but here we are. I’m doing this for you,’ said Bull.

  He dropped the dead creature at Harry’s side. H tried to move his hand. The dead mouth clamped on and took a bite. Harry let out a weak groan. Bull stamped the dead man’s head into his own carpet.

  ‘You always did have bad ideas,’ said Harry. He passed shortly afterwards.

  *

  Erik was a quick learner, that was partly how he had wormed in his way into the hierarchy of Harry’s empire. His former boss was going nowhere while Harry was dictating things in Manchester. He knew it was a good set up and Harry’s ego was over stretching his limits. Harry was ruthless, Erik was much worse.

  He limped along at the head of a horde of the dead. The pain was easing a bit, mainly because he was distracted while he formulated another plan. The dead woman on his right side kept looking at him. Each time he grimaced, she turned towards him, a confused look in her white eyes. Is he really one of us, he smells like us but there is something different about him…maybe I should bite him anyway. Erik was careful to avoid eye contact.

  They reached the top of the road when a healthy human sprinted past at hight speed. He was chased by another two men who stupidly stopped. Mesmerised by the horde of dead not twenty feet away from them. When fear had over-ridden their curiosity, they fell over each other to get away. The dead pounced.

  Erik stayed put and watched. The woman watched him. ‘Okay, love your time’s up,’ he said to her. He punched the knife into her eye and caught her falling body. He dragged her over to an abandoned house. He laid her out and went to work. Erik was a master craftsman with a knife. He tied a piece of his shirt around his wound. By the time he had finished and walked out of the door neither the dead nor living could tell what he was.

  His camouflage was complete.

  *

  Bull knew the next stages of Harry’s death. The bullets he had fired had torn through body mass; he hadn’t disrupted H’s brain. Harry woke snarling at Bull. His face had transformed into a grey blotchy colour. His eyes that had always looked dangerous had turned transparent, he snapped his jaws like a rabid animal. Bull had secured his hands behind his back with an assortment of household objects. He had taken the belt from a bathrobe and fixed his hands. A couple of leather belts had been wrapped around Harry’s torso to limit his upper body movement. Finally Bull was tying a towel around Harry’s mouth.

  He had thought about ending Harry as soon as he has reawakened, he hadn’t liked what he could see. But what if the government find a cure. They could fix Harry; he might not be the same Harry but still. He would take him back to the compound and assume control until everything was back in order. Hazel would have a fit, but he could handle her. He checked outside, the dead had moved up the road and out of sight. This was his chance to get the car and fuck off out of dodge. He grabbed Harry’s feet and pulled him into the hall. A quick look out, then he pulled Harry up. Confident he had Harry tucked up tightly he threw him over his shoulder and made a run for the car.

  A male stepped out from the rear of the car; Bull shot him dead without breaking stride. It was the poor sod who had escaped his two chasers. The gunshot attracted some of the dead who wandered aimlessly. He clicked the open button for the boot. ‘Sorry H but I can’t take any chances,’ he said as he lowered him in gently. Bull closed the boot and jumped into the driver seat. He started the ignition and powered down the street.

  ‘I will find you Erik and you will pay for what you have done, I fucking swear it.’ He floored the pedal and headed home.

  He wasn’t aware how easy it was going to be finding Erik, his army was getting bigger and he too was heading home.

  Bull swung the car around a couple of corners, dead everywhere. He reversed and went in the opposite direction. A large group of the dead to his right, he spun left…this was going to take him longer, out of his way.

  He accelerated to give himself distance, braked hard took a sharp right and hit the pedal again. By the time he had got to his normal route a mass of
the dead had merged. He stopped the car and took in the scene.

  ‘How the fuck could so many of the dead be wandering about?’ He asked himself out loud. ‘Fuck, Harry…you gave Erik the responsibility of hoarding the dead. Him and Bamber have been hoarding them in their own homes, waiting for this moment. Fuck, fuck, fuck you Harry I told you not to trust him.’

  Harry moaned from the boot.

  At the head of the horde Bull watched as a huge monstrosity pointed in his direction, then he moaned, and the dead followed.

  ‘Erik,’ said Bull before he floored the pedal and sped off. Bull knew where he was heading, and it wouldn’t take him long. Bull would need to call in all the men to defend the compound.

  He arrived at the gate blaring his horn. The men on the wall pointed their guns. Bull jumped out, ‘Open the fucking gate now,’ he roared. They obeyed.

  Bull pulled into the compound and ordered all the men to the front. He told them of Erik’s betrayal and how Harry had been injured. He told them to shoot anything that moved on the other side of the wall including any men loyal to Erik or Bamber. He then drove to the rear of the house.

  Hazel met him there, he told her more or less the same story. ‘How injured, is it life threatening?’ she said with enthusiasm.

  Bull lifted the boot. ‘It’s worse than that,’ he replied.

  Hazel looked at the dead Harry squirming about the boot, she laughed hysterically. ‘You can’t be serious; he’s fucking one of them.’

  ‘The government will find a cure, a vaccine or something that will reverse whatever he is,’ he replied.

  ‘He’s dead, that’s what he is, and the cure is a bullet through the brain,’ she replied.

  ‘Help me get him inside,’ he said to Hazel.

  ‘Not a chance,’ she replied. ‘Are you a fucking idiot, he is dead, there is no coming back from that. Put him, it out of its misery.’

  Bull pulled the gun from his belt and pointed it at Hazel. ‘Help me or I will put your brains all over the wall.’

  ‘Go ahead, pull the trigger. Have all of H’s men come around to see what’s happening. They will see you with a dead Harry in the boot and his wife dead at your hands. You do what you want but I’m going back upstairs…don’t put him anywhere near me, I loathed him while he was alive,’ she turned her back and walked away.

  Bull cursed several times. He dragged Harry from the boot and hauled him upstairs. He secured him in a room at the opposite end to Hazel. He strapped him into a large four post bed. Bull looked at his old friend with sadness. As he stepped out of the room, Harry’s pearl white eyes never left him…he couldn’t help but think Hazel was right.

  *

  Erik continued to stumble along at the head of the horde. He could feel something altering in him. He knew he hadn’t been bitten but all the same he could feel the change. His calf was feeling sore, maybe it was all the walking. He knew he should stop and check it over, but any give away signs would see him eaten were he stood. He slowly shuffled off to the side, gradually he found himself able to drift away from the crowd.

  He grimaced as he touched the wound on his leg. He sliced his trouser leg with the knife and removed his homemade bandage to reveal a tender lump. He squeezed it gently and heard a pop. A pungent dark red almost brown gunge erupted from the wound. Erik recognised the smell; it was the stink of the dead.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ he said to himself. Then he did. The wound had seeped through the ripped shirt he had used. The dead have bumped and barged him on their travels. While his blood seeped out, the infection crept in.

  Erik would soon be one of the dead…but he will be different…he will be undead.

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  Seaforth, The Lighthouse.

  Ben and Claudia were making tea in the lighthouse. Tom and Billie-Jo wandered the grounds outside, keeping watch.

  ‘You and Claudia looked close last night, I think she has taken a shine to you,’ smirked Billie-Jo.

  ‘She seems like a nice woman,’ replied Tom.

  ‘Nice, is that the best you can come up with,’ said Billie-Jo.

  ‘Okay, ‘he conceded. ‘She is an attractive woman; her personality is good too.’

  ‘You mean she’s got big boobs,’ quipped Billie-Jo.

  Tom was taking a mouthful of water which he spat out at Billie-Jo’s comment. ‘Can we end this conversation; I’m getting relationship advice from a thirteen-year-old.’

  ‘I’m fourteen and are you confirming that you are about to embark on a post-apocalyptic relationship.’

  The next gulp of water went down the wrong hole. Tom walked away coughing and spluttering. Billie-Jo thinks she may have heard a swear word.

  Ben more or less asked Claudia the same questions but without the boobs being mentioned.

  ‘I’m not sure we know each other well enough to be getting into this conversation,’ said Claudia.

  ‘I’m not prying,’ replied Ben. ‘Just curious.’

  ‘I’m not sure he could afford me,’ she said with a straight face.

  ‘Oh right, your still considering escorting while we fight our way through the dead,’ he said with a good dose of humour.

  ‘That was quick for you, now open those tin of beans,’ she smiled.

  *

  By the time Jane woke, it was early morning and a different day had arrived. As she became more alert, she lashed out at Ronnie. He blocked the strike and caught her hand.

  ‘Behave,’ he said. ‘Or I will throw you overboard.’ He felt the tension ease in her body. ‘Why don’t you tell me what happened?’

  She couldn’t speak for crying.

  *

  Billie-Jo’s screeches and Lola’s barks of excitement attracted the others.

  ‘What’s all the noise about?’ Asked Tom.

  ‘Look…look,’ she said pointing out to sea excitedly.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ said Ben.

  ‘Believe it, you’re looking at it,’ said Claudia.

  Exiting the River Dee and hugging the coast was a small passenger cruiser. The type that carries tourists about. It was heading straight for them or the Mersey estuary to be exact.

  The five of them hopped about waving their arms and shouting.

  Jane noticed them first. She had called a truce with Ronnie, mainly because her emotions were now under control and while he may have abandoned them, he wasn’t really at fault with the outcome…that was squarely on Derek’s shoulders and that bastard had gotten his too.

  ‘Let’s pick them up,’ she suggested.

  ‘Really,’ he replied. ‘I don’t want to be responsible for anyone else. We are barely on speaking terms.’

  ‘C’mon, we have both realised our own failings back at Chester, let’s do the right thing here. Manchester might be the only safe haven,’ she said.

  ‘I wouldn’t count on that with Harry Flowers lording it over everyone,’ he responded.

  ‘It might be different by the time we arrive.’

  ‘Probably for the worst,’ he replied.

  ‘We’ve shared our stories, almost bared our soles. We are not proud of our journey so far,’ she pondered for a moment. ‘But neither are we remorseful. What we have done has been born from fear and anger. Let’s start putting things back in balance.’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘They have a kid and a dog with them, that’s bound to be trouble,’ he stated.

  ‘I like both, dogs more than kids,’ she laughed. ‘C’mon, they need our help.’

  Ronnie thought back to love of his life and that sweet innocent child that he left in Bala. Reggie would jump up and down at the sight of a dog, especially the one he was looking at now. Stacey, she would tell him he is pulling the boat over, no excuses just get it done, then she would smile, and he would follow her words.

  Jane had a similar aura about her. Stacey would like this woman, her fearless nature that hid her vulnerabilities. Ronnie had lost the only two things he had really cared about, he should have
died with them but here he was sailing a boat towards Manchester…and why.

  He was on his way to put an end to the person he disliked most in the world. He had forgotten who he was the last couple of days. Grief and anger had taken over him. Now he remembered who he really was, the man Stacey had convinced that making the right decision was what made us human.

  ‘I hope I don’t regret this,’ he smiled.

  ‘What’s to regret, they have a dog,’ beamed Jane.

  He pulled the boat to the side of the bay. They all smiled at each other. All except Ben. Ronnie Makin was a face he’d never forget.

  Chapter Eighty

  Colton, Leeds.

  Frank didn’t sleep much; Monroe was on guard with him. He was getting an itchy feeling about the whole apocalypse. He gently stroked her fur. ‘It feels like a game of chess,’ he said to her. She scrunched her nose in agreement.

  *

  There was two entry points into the estate, both had been barricaded with mobile homes and working vans, they were manned around the clock. Individual cul-de-sacs on the estate had similar defences and were protected by red brick walls surrounding the perimeter of each dead end, which was the part that Frank didn’t like. Over half of the residents had decided they would go alone without the support of the travellers, they holed up on the right side of the road, the exposed side. Mickey and his crew had aided them during attacks, but they still wouldn’t join forces. Both sides did man the defences at the main road together though.

  Juanita’s camp and home was situated in the second road down. It wasn’t as exposed as the others and Mickey had ensured that all routes in and out had been blocked and patrolled. They made an impressive pair. What Frank didn’t know was the size of the estate and he wouldn’t have guessed until he went for a ride and watched the horde of dead heading towards the newly formed settlements. The estate was bordered by a road stretching two miles long. Mickey hadn’t secured the whole road, it wasn’t possible. He had secured the road up to the half mile point where the intersections joined. The few groups of dead he had been fighting were nothing compared to what was heading his way.