The Death in a Northern Town Trilogy (Books 1-3): Welcome To Dead Town

by Peter Mckeirnon

  “Are you ready? Let’s go…”

  I quietly opened the door and Emily made the first move, exiting the school and entering the Playground.

  She crept up behind the first zombie obstructing our path towards the Vauxhall Corsa and drove her hockey stick into the back of the undead teenager’s head.

  One down.

  We moved slowly forward. With the first zombie in our path taken out it was now time for the next.

  Jonathon moved ahead of Emily and with his cricket bat, bashed a small zombie girl over the head.

  Two down.

  “Good night kid. You being a zombie? It’s just not cricket,” Jonathon whispered to the fallen zombie.

  “Does he think he’s in a movie?” I asked Emily.

  “Apparently so,” my daughter replied quietly. “Hey, Rambo! No more one liners ok?”

  I remember feeling useless watching Jonathon and my daughter do all the dirty work whilst I slowly limped forward; the pain in my back preventing me from helping as much as I would have liked. Making it worse was Louise cowering behind me, pulling on my jacket with both hands as if it offered some sort of protection.

  Emily and Jonathon continued to work together, clearing a path to the car whilst keeping a careful look out for each other. They made quite the team and given the horrific circumstances we found ourselves in, I could not help but feel proud of her, if not a little concerned at how quickly she was adjusting. I was going to have to have words with my brother about this. This was definitely that crazy bastard’s influence.

  Emily moved forward, another zombie down.

  Jonathon moved forward, another zombie down.

  As we advanced, I felt the pain in my back begin to ease and my posture improve. At first I thought the slow but fluid movement was helping but then I realised the real reason. Louise was no longer pulling on my jacket. I turned to see her petrified, moving backwards towards the doors of the school.

  “Louise, what are you doing?” I hushed.

  “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” she cried, not half as quiet as I had hoped her reply would be.

  Louise’s cries had alerted two zombies that were stumbling close by.

  “Quickly, you’ve got to move now! Please Louise,” I begged but my plea was wasted, she was too far gone to hear me.

  She gripped her waist tightly and lowered her head; her petrified face hiding behind her long black hair.

  Whimpering and shaking with fright, she repeatedly said “No” whilst shaking her head violently from side to side. I hobbled towards her as quickly as I could and using the battle paddle, I smashed the first zombie over the back, knocking him to the ground. Using the heel of my boot, I brought the paddle down over and over, into the zombie’s head until it resembled a fleshy trifle.

  Now for zombie number two.

  I swept the legs from under the dead teenager and quickly stabbed the paddle into its forehead.

  I would like to tell you that killing zombies was becoming easier but it really wasn’t. The sound created when breaking someone’s skull or the cold sickly shiver that runs through your body when turning a zombie’s brains to mush, are things you never get used to.

  “Louise it’s ok, just come to me, we’ll be out of here soon, trust me,” I pleaded.

  It was no good. Louise’s fear had taken her to a place where there was no coming back. Her continued backward movement had led her into the open doorway of the school and behind her stood the newly deceased Mr Kelly.

  “Louise!” I yelled.

  Both Emily and Jonathon paused their zombie slaying to see why I was causing such a commotion.

  Louise turned to face her zombie headmaster who stood, towering over her, saliva dripping from his flesh hungry mouth down onto her poor, petrified face.

  She screamed, alerting all of the zombies in the playground to our presence.

  The zombie headmaster chomped hard on Louise’s face, ripping her eyeball from its socket. Oh man, I swear I saw her eye burst in Mr Kelly’s mouth when his teeth bit into it. I definitely heard it pop!

  Louise was frozen with fear and unable to protect herself as her headmaster lunged forward, forcing her to the ground.

  “No!” Emily screamed.

  “It’s too late Emily, there’s nothing you can do and we’ve got other things to worry about,” Jonathon said, holding her back.

  He was right, they did have other things to worry about. There was now close to twenty zombies closing in on our location. We had to move fast if we were going to make it to the car. Moving I could manage, but moving fast?

  Emily, full of anger and pain, lashed out at the approaching zombies, hitting anything that came close with her hockey stick.

  Louise was motionless, having either passed out from the pain or she was dead. The zombie headmaster had made short work of Louise’s face which was now almost completely stripped of skin. Well, I may have been too late to save Louise but I could do something about Mr Kelly. The dead fuck had eaten his last meal!

  Hobbling forwards, Mr Kelly showed no interest in my presence; instead he shredded away at the fallen Louise, troffing chunks of her into his mouth.

  Summoning as much strength as I could, I kicked out at the zombie headmaster’s face, my boot connecting with his chin. It was a good kick if I do say so myself and the power of it snapped his head backwards and a fleshy tear opened up across his neck.

  I swung the battle paddle and almost separated Mr Kelly’s head from his body.

  Now I’ve seen some things over the last day and this has to be one of the most disturbing.

  Mr Kelly’s head, having snapped backwards was now flapping like a heavily oiled hinge whilst his teeth chomped together over and over again. I couldn’t leave it at that now could I? A few more smashes with the battle paddle ensured Mr Kelly’s brain was destroyed and he had chewed on his last human.

  Now Louise was dead but how long would she stay that way? I barely knew the girl but she was a good friend to my daughter and I felt I owed it to her to make sure she stayed dead and didn’t rise to roam the streets looking to devour the living like the rest of the undead bastards that were rapidly filling my town.

  I turned the battle paddle around and using the handle end, I smashed it through Louise’s forehead, penetrating her brain. Then I hobbled to join Emily and Jonathon who had done a brilliant job in clearing a path to the car.

  I lay in the back seat of the Vauxhall Corsa, the double seat providing some much needed relief for my back. Jonathon sat in the front with Emily in the driver’s seat, resting her head against the wheel.

  Not a word was spoken. All you could hear was the groans of zombies as they started to surround the vehicle, slapping their putrid hands against the frame of the car.

  I decided to break the silence. Not on purpose mind you but by an unwelcome accident. The kind of accident that smells so bad you need to open a window, only opening a window in our case, could mean death.

  ‘Parf’ came the noise from my bottom, rudely interrupting the silence.

  I tried to seep it out quietly but my arse demanded to be heard.

  “Oh Dad that stinks!” Emily moaned, wafting the air in front of her nose.

  “It’s not that bad,” I replied. “I’ve smelt a lot worse than that today I can tell you.”

  Jonathon began to cough, “Oh God, I can taste it. It’s got right to the back of my throat. I wish I could open a window.”

  “Don’t you dare open a window, you’ll have us all killed,” Emily said.

  “Death by zombies or your dad’s farts, it’s all the same to me,” Jonathon replied as he gagged on the stench. “Mr Diant, what have you been eating?”

  “Mayonnaise, the Devil’s condiment. As you can tell, it doesn’t agree with me,” I replied.

  ‘Parf’ said my bottom, obviously feeling left out of the conversation.

  “My eyes are stinging,” Jonathon cried.

  “Emily let’s get
going. If we stay static any longer we will be surrounded by zombies and we’ll have trouble moving at all, and put the air conditioning on. I can’t guarantee I won’t do it again.” I said.

  Emily put the Corsa into reverse, slamming the zombie school kids that had gathered to the rear. Then she revved the engine.

  “Fasten your seatbelts, this could be painful,” Emily instructed, before putting her foot down hard on the accelerator and speeding forward towards the zombies clambering at the school gates.

  I decided it would be best to sit up for this, heed my daughter’s words and strap myself in. My back had improved slightly and I wanted to limit any potential damage.

  If anything, the impact wasn’t as bad as I had expected. The herd of zombies at the gate had cushioned the blow and the car made it through with very little damage. The problem now was the zombies once trapped in the playground were spilling out onto the road. On the plus side, the Thunderbird was still out there and judging by the amount of undead that surrounded the vehicle, someone was inside.

  “That’s Dave’s car, he has to be inside,” I said.

  “There is no way we can get to him Dad, there are too many zombies. They’re everywhere.” said Emily.

  “I’ve had an idea. Mr Diant, how’s your back holding up, can you move?” Jonathon asked.

  “I’m fine, what’s your plan?” I asked.

  I wasn’t fine, far from it, but I didn’t want to sacrifice anymore man points to a kid wearing skinny jeans.

  “Follow my lead. Emily, keep the car moving,” said Jonathon.

  Jonathon lowered the window in the front passenger door, unbuckled his seatbelt and with cricket bat in hand, lifted his upper body out of the vehicle. Emily started the car.

  “Come on you dead bastards!” he yelled, bashing anything over the head that came close enough.

  “Your boyfriend's got a screw loose you know that don’t you?” I said to Emily.

  Now it was my turn to lift myself out of the car window and join in with the zombie bashing. Battle paddle in hand, I gritted my teeth and strained my upper body out of the window and a noise left my mouth like nothing I had ever made before. It was a cross between a yelp and a squeak. Luckily only my daughter heard me. Jonathon was far too busy swinging his cricket bat. Man points still intact!

  One by one the zombies slowly fell. It wasn’t an easy task, far from it, but with my daughter’s driving and Jonathon and I swinging like lunatics, we cleared the area of the undead. Well, if I’m honest, it was mostly Jonathon that did all the hard work. I was just hoping he wasn’t keeping a kill score.

  All the stretching had actually done my back the world of good but I was exhausted. Jonathon on the other hand had youth on his side and looked like he could go on forever. All that remained for us to do now was to clear the zombies that surrounded the Thunderbird. We exited the vehicle.

  “Dave must be in there, why else would they be ignoring us?” I said.

  “I’m going to enjoy this,” Emily said, staring ahead at the zombies slapping their putrid palms against the Thunderbird. “You see the girl on the bonnet, pressing her hands against the windscreen? That’s Beth and the others are Hannah and Tracey.”

  “The Queen bitches of the school,” Jonathon added.

  “These girls made Louise’s life a complete misery, just because she dressed differently,” Emily said. “Well now it’s payback!”

  Emily marched forward towards Beth and smashed the hockey stick across the back of her head which split on impact, spraying blood and head tissue across the windscreen of the car.

  “That was for all of the times you called Louise a Goth, a witch and a freak,” Emily cried.

  Hannah was next to meet the wrath of my daughter. Never piss off a Diant is all I can say, especially if you’re a zombie!

  She grabbed zombie Hannah by her hair, pulling her away from the vehicle. As she opened her quickly rotting mouth, letting out a harrowing groan, Emily inserted the handle of her hockey stick, forcing it through her putrid throat and out of the back of her head.

  “That was for the time you set fire to Louise’s hair in science class,” she cried.

  Emily pushed her right foot into the chest of the zombie and slid the hockey stick free from its mouth.

  Next up was the undead Tracey who, during the destruction of her flesh eating friends, had moved her attention away from the car to my daughter, shuffling slowly towards her.

  “I’ll take this,” Jonathan insisted, running at the zombie, smashing his cricket bat across the side of her face.

  Teeth, drool and blood flew through the air as the force from the hit sent the zombie teenager to the ground.

  “This is for Louise and for the time you stole her diary and read it out in front of everyone!” Jonathon said before again smashing her in the head.

  Emily was visibly shaken. Losing her friend had hurt her deeply and although killing the zombie girls had relieved some anger, it was going to take more than cracking a few skulls for my daughter’s grief to subside.

  I took her in my arms and held her tightly. I could have stayed like that for hours. For a moment, Emily was once again my little girl and not the capable, level headed young adult she had proven herself to be over the past few hours. For the briefest of moments, she was a child, seeking comfort in her father’s arms.

  “Guys, I reckon there’s someone in here but I can’t tell for sure. It’s too smoky,” Jonathon said, his face pressed up against the driver’s window.

  Emily and I joined Jonathon at the car. Inside the Thunderbird, it was completely full of smoke and a strong smell of cigarettes seeped through the frame.

  I pulled on the door handle. Locked.

  “Dave!” I shouted, banging on the roof of the car.

  Nothing.

  The three of us shook the car as hard as we could.

  “Dave!” I again shouted.

  Through the thick cigarette smoke a hand appeared at the window and flicked us the middle finger. We all looked at each other then began to bang heavily on the car whilst screaming “Dave!” over and over again.

  Finally the front passenger door opened and 80s Dave appeared in a cloud of smoke.

  “Fuck me lar watch the body work it’s a classic this car, you’re going to ruin it,” Dave moaned.

  “Christ Dave, are you deaf? We’ve been shouting and banging on the car for ages,” I said.

  “I’ve had me headphones on Ace. Billy Idol lar, you can’t whack it. The moaning and groaning from those dead pricks was doing my head in. Looks like you did a good job of shutting them up though. Nice to see my paddle has been put to good use. Good work kidda. I knew you’d make it back in one piece. Is this your daughter then?” Dave said, lighting a cigarette.

  “Emily, I’d like you to meet 80s Dave,” I said, introducing her to my retro friend.

  “Alright girl, nice to meet you. You’ve got a good dad here you know? A bit squeamish and not the sharpest tool in the box but he’ll do,” Dave said.

  “Nice back handed compliment there Dave, thanks very much,” I said.

  “My name is Jonathon, nice to meet you Mr 80s Dave,” my daughter’s boyfriend interjected, extending his arm for a handshake that wasn’t forthcoming.

  “What’s the deal with skinny jeans over here?” Dave asked, eyeing Jonathon up and down whilst completely ignoring the handshake request.

  “He’s Emily’s er, boyfriend. He’s ok Dave. If it wasn’t for him, Emily could be dead, me too for that matter,” I said.

  “Well if John says you’re ok then that’s good enough for me but the first chance we get, we’re getting you a normal pair of jeans. There’s no room for skinny jeans in the apocalypse lar. They are tighter that David Bowie’s leggings in Labyrinth kid. I can tell what side you got dressed!” Dave said, sucking down on his cigarette.

  “Dad we best get moving. Zombie alert.” Emily said, nodding towards the approaching herd of undead shuffling our way.

&nb
sp; They were slowly closing in from every direction. We hadn’t exactly been quiet and the noise we made waking Dave from his Billy Idol wonderland was like ringing a loud dinner bell for the nearby walking dead.

  “Everyone in the car,” I said, limping my way to the front passenger seat of the Thunderbird.

  “What’s up Ace?” Dave asked, “Why are you walking like you’ve shit yourself?”

  “I put my back out earlier,” I replied.

  “Put your back out? Fuck me John you’re 34 not 64. Suck it up kidda and stop being a little princess,” Dave replied, showing his usual level of support.

  We climbed into the car and instantly began to cough horribly, the stench of cigarettes and lingering smoke quietly coating our throats.

  Dave was fine though and he looked puzzled as to what the fuss was about.

  “Man it stinks in here,” Jonathon complained.

  “Stop your whinging skinny jeans,” Dave said whilst lighting another cigarette. “It smells a lot sweeter in here than it does outside with all those zombies rotting up our streets. Where to Johnny boy?”

  “Weston Road, to my brother’s house,” I informed.

  “Weston Road it is. Strap yourselves in boys and girl, this could get interesting,” Dave said, revving the engine of the Thunderbird.

  ‘Parf.’

  “Oh Dad!”

  Tatts for the Memories

  Nick sat on an old rickety wicker chair inside his grandmother’s flat, facing an open doorway and looking out to the hallway outside. In his left hand he clutched a freshly opened bottle of Jack Daniels and in his right hand, a blood stained wooden walking stick. It had been several hours since Nick had used the same walking stick to kill his beloved grandmother. Well, she was trying to eat him.

  To his right, behind the closed door of his grandmother’s bedroom, a softly sung lullaby could be heard. Nick did not recognise the song but he found the soft tones of Sophie singing to her baby sister Gaby comforting.

  Close to two hours had passed since he heard the dying screams of the girl’s father as he was savagely eaten alive by a gaggle of zombie geese. Close to two hours since he wrestled with the decision to help the girls or not. Helping others had not been part of the plan formulated following his grandmother’s transformation from a kind hearted, beautiful old lady to a maniacal, flesh hungry monster. His plan was to secure Churchill Mansions one floor at a time, starting from top to bottom. Once the high rise block of flats was zombie free, he was to board up all entrances and exits. Once this was done, the building and its content would be his.