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

by Peter Mckeirnon

  “You’re all heart Butty, always thinking of others,” I replied.

  “All in a day’s work John, no biggy. Anyway, forget about all that, I need to show you something. Come on let’s go,” he said.

  “Butty it must be about 5am, I’m shattered, full of painkillers and my head is spinning at the news of your killing spree. Can’t this wait a little while longer?” I asked.

  I had put my back out slipping in zombie head splatter whilst attempting to rescue my daughter a day earlier and, although the pain had dulled enough to allow for fluid movement, I wasn’t sure how much was down to the medication we had liberated from a medical centre. To be honest, I was quite happy to carry on pill popping rather than find out.

  “Trust me, you’ll want to see this, now move your arse and follow me,” Butty instructed, making his way to the hallway.

  “Well this better be good. If you’ve woken me up just so you can show me more of your tinned spam collection I’ll force feed you the stuff till it comes out of your ears,” I said following my brother.

  Out on the hallway he lowered the ladder leading to the attic. It had been years since I last ventured up there. He had converted it into an extra room and fitted a skylight long before Emily was born. He said it would add value to his house but what he really wanted it for was to search for aliens.

  The attic was just as I remembered it. The large skylight with my brother’s telescope looking through and an old fold out wallpaper pasting table used as a desk with radio transmission equipment on top. My brother was part of a local ‘club’ called Aliens of Runcorn Spotters Elite. Yep, you read that right, A.R.S.E! There were many members of A.R.S.E. and they all communicated using Citizens Band radio transmitters or C.B. radios as they are more commonly known. Obviously, the people of A.R.S.E. had never met face to face. Alien contact is a concept deemed perfectly reasonable with A.R.S.E. members but human contact? Not so much.

  “I see you’ve still got your alien observatory up and running and oh look, more spam!” I said, spying another large collection of tins under the makeshift desk.

  “You’ll be grateful for all that spam in a few months when food supplies are depleted. Up to five years those tins of delicious salty pork goodness can last. Five years!” Butty exclaimed. “Anyway, I didn’t bring you up here to show you the remainder of my spam collection. If I did we’d be down in the cellar where I have another 600 tins. I brought you here to show you this…”

  Butty switched on his C.B radio, pressed the ‘speak’ button and spoke into the microphone.

  “This is Lone Wolf come in, over,” he said.

  “Lone Wolf? Who the hell do you think you are? Chuck Norris or some kind of bad ass? Does whoever it is you’re trying to contact know that Lone Wolf runs with a pack now toowoooooo!” I said, doing my very best howling wolf impression.

  “Alright smart arse it’s just a handle. You’ve got to have a handle to distinguish yourself from everyone else. It’s C.B. rules. You would know that if you’d had joined Alien Spotters of Runcorn Elite when I asked you to,” Butty replied.

  “It’s called A.R.S.E. butty, ARSE!” I said.

  “Come in Lone Wolf this is Sky Watcher here. How’s it going over there, over?” came the sultry female voice through the speakers of the C.B. radio.

  “That’s Sky Watcher,” my brother said excitedly.

  “You don’t say?” I replied sarcastically.

  “Ten four Sky Watcher this is Lone Wolf, all good here, over good buddy,” he said.

  “What the fuck was that? You’re not Burt Reynolds you know? This isn’t Smokey and the Bandit!” I said through a fit of laughter.

  “That’s how people talk to each other over Citizens Band radio, it’s the rules. Have you never watched the film Convoy?” Butty replied, his camouflaged covered forehead wrinkling in anger at my constant mocking.

  “Yes I have but this isn’t the Deep South and you’re not a trucker. You’re a nut job spam fanatic who stuck the heads of his dead friends and neighbours on spikes,” I said to the crazy bastard.

  “Good to hear you’re OK Lone Wolf, I’ve missed your voice,” Sky Watcher replied flirtatiously.

  My brother puffed his chest out in hearing her words. He was obviously sweet on this girl and hearing her enticing reply filled him with confidence.

  “It’s good to hear your voice too Sky Watcher. My brother, my niece and a rag tag band of survivors showed up on my doorstep a few hours back. Lucky they found me when they did. They were in pretty rough shape by all accounts but fortunately for them, Lone Wolf was here to save the day,” Butty boasted.

  “What the hell are you talking about? Rough shape? We’re all fine. Oh I see what’s happening here, you’ve got a crush on this girl haven’t you? That’s why you’re acting the big man. So come on then spill the beans what’s she like? Do you know her real name?” I said.

  “C.B. rules John. No names, handles only. I only know her as Sky Watcher and that’s good enough for me,” he replied.

  “Give me the receiver I want to speak to her,” I said, reaching to take it from his hand.

  “No fuck off!” he snapped, slapping my hand away.

  “That’s just like you Lone Wolf, always putting the needs of others first. You’re a hero Wolfman and I hope your brother and his friends appreciate how lucky they are to have such a great guy like you around to help,” Sky Watcher swooned, feeding my brothers ever expanding ego.

  “Hey Lone Wolf I almost forgot to tell you, there have been no further incidents since the initial attack. It was messy and it wasn’t easy with just an old rusty saw but I chopped those deaders up good and stuck their rotting body parts to my house like you told me to and not one zombie has bothered me since,” She continued.

  A large smile spread across my brother’s face and he looked across to me smugly, revelling in his new hero status and who could blame him? He had found a way to hide us from the undead. What I was struggling to get my head around was that he had shared his discovery with others. Of course he was going to help Emily and I, we’re family, and he accepted Jonathon and 80s Dave on our recommendation, but others? Butty has always been a loner, preferring his own company over that of others. If it wasn’t for me and Emily coming over to see him he probably wouldn’t interact with anyone if he could help it. Actually, now I think about it, that is probably why he’s been praying for a zombie apocalypse all these years. The human race would become largely wiped out and he could live his life in peace without having to deal with other people’s needs and hang ups. Butty has enough trouble dealing with his own eccentricities never mind those of others. That’s why he joined A.R.S.E. It was a way for him to communicate without meeting people face to face and he didn’t have to be himself. To other A.R.S.E. members he was Lone Wolf, alien spotter and all round cool mutha fucker! To everyone else, he was the crazy lunatic that kept himself to himself. Well he got his wish, kind of. Zombies are here but he’s not alone and personally I think having Dave, Jonathon, Emily and I around will do him the world of good and who knows, maybe he’ll even start to enjoy the company of others. If not then there’s a good chance he’ll completely flip and we’ll be added to his heads on spikes collection.

  “You’ve done a fantastic job Sky Watcher, just like I told you. Keep me up to date with how things develop at your end. Any problems let me know and remember what I said, if you find you’re in a spot of bother just ask yourself “What would Lone Wolf do?” Over and out Sky Watcher,” Butty said before turning off the C.B. radio.

  “So how many people are you in contact with using this old thing?” I asked, slapping the top of the C.B. radio with the palm of my hand which was met with a stern look from Butty.

  Honestly, you think I’d eaten his last Rolo.

  “Since the outbreak? Let me see, well there’s Sky Watcher and Trust No One but he’s been quiet for a while now. I haven’t heard anything from the other Spotters. I suppose they didn’t make it,” Butty replied. />
  “At least we know there are others out there like us, surviving this thing,” I said.

  “There are a lot more that you might think, which brings me to the other reason I brought you up here,” my brother said, walking to the skylight and opening the window, “Come and see for yourself”

  I joined my brother at the skylight and climbed up on top of tins of spam to peer out of the window. From my elevated position, I looked out over the Weston Point area of Runcorn. Weston Point is a large housing estate containing schools, shops, pubs, a sports club and oh, the biggest incinerator and chemical plant you have ever seen. The chemical plant in particular is enormous and at night when brightly lit, resembles a large futuristic city. Think of the opening sequence to Blade Runner, only bigger!

  The time was just past 5am and it was a dark morning. With the power still operational, street lights illuminated the area and it was an eerie sight. Zombies slowly meandered, stumbling under street lights, casting large horrific shadows against houses and along roads. The one thing I noticed amidst the darkness and pockets of light was that the zombies were all heading in the same direction. I lifted my gaze and looked further afield to where the deaders were going. It appeared that the destination of the dead was the Pavilions; a large social club surrounded by sports fields.

  “Use the telescope,” Butty said.

  I placed my eye to the viewfinder to see that my brother had the telescope positioned perfectly on the Pavilions. A large group of survivors looked to have been working through the night to secure the building. Men were atop ladders, boarding up windows whilst others protected the building from the increasing numbers of oncoming zombies. In front of the building, sprawled across the sports fields lay the fallen, both human and zombies alike. A bloodied battle between the dead and the living had raged through the night and the remaining survivors were protecting the building with their lives. It wasn’t looking good. No matter how many zombies they would slay, others would soon follow and they would have to do it all over again. Moving my eye away from the viewfinder and looking out over the housing estate, it appeared that every zombie in Weston Point was heading towards them. If only the survivors could see what I could see then they would surely give up, lie down and let the fuckers eat them. Although I admired their determination and will to survive, the future for these guys was looking bleak and nothing short of a miracle was going to save them from the army of undead heading their way.

  “It’s a massacre. How many people do you think are in there?” I asked.

  “A few hundred to begin with would be my guess. But you only have to see how many of them are lying dead in the fields to see that’s not the case now. They’ve been at it since yesterday afternoon. The Pavilions opened its doors as a place of refuge for anyone needing it but it didn’t take long for things to turn to shit. I was watching events unfold whilst nailing zombie limbs to the house. My guess is that someone inside turned and all hell broke loose. Then of course there’s the large gathering of fragrant human flesh all in one place. Every zombie in the area would be able to smell them. All those people together? It’s like ringing a dinner bell for the undead. Give it a couple of hours and I reckon the coast will be clear for me and Dave to do a ciggy run. I know it sounds harsh but their misfortune is at our advantage. There’s nothing we can do to save them so we might as well make the most of it. The streets will be quiet soon and perfect for a bit of shopping,” Butty said.

  “You’re both out of your minds. You have a walk in closest stacked with cartons of cigarettes and you want more, you’ve seen what it’s like out there,” I said, moving away from the skylight.

  “Not want little brother, need. You know how many cigarettes he smokes. He’s probably lying there now, fast asleep with a tab hanging from his mouth. Plus you know how much I hate sharing,” he replied.

  “Don’t I just. I’ve still got a scar from when you threw a cricket ball at my head because I was using your bat,” I said, rubbing the side of my head where the ball had hit.

  “I bought that cricket bat for the sole purpose of protecting us from zombies and what were you doing? Playing cricket with that Chris kid that lived up the road!” Butty complained.

  “So I was. I’ve not thought about Chris for years. I wonder how he is,” I said.

  “Well given that he had more interest in playing cricket than preparing for the apocalypse I would say he’s probably doing very badly. Luckily for you John, you have me as a brother. What would have happened if the undead Armageddon had happened whilst you were getting bowled out for a duck? Speaking of ducks, I’ve been meaning to ask, have you come across any yet?” Butty asked.

  “Ducks? No, why?” I asked, completely puzzled at how quickly the conversation had shifted from the chaos at the Pavilions to cigarettes to cricket to ducks, but that’s my brother for you. The cheese had slipped from his cracker years ago.

  “Never mind, remind me to tell you later when everyone is awake. Come on then Little Brother. The day is young and there is lots of work still to do around here if we are to see this thing through,” Butty said, climbing down the ladder and exiting his attic.

  “Oh come on you know how early it is, can’t we sleep for a few more hours?” I pleaded.

  “There’ll be plenty of time for sleeping when we’re dead, which will be sooner rather than later if we don’t finish off securing this house”.

  Fuck my life.

  Supermarket Sweep

  Steven sat slumped against the shelving units of Poundland, crunching his way through chocolate covered Brazil nuts as loud as he could but it was no good. Even wearing his fluffy pink ear muffs he could hear the hellish noise of zombies banging against the windows.

  It had been twenty seven hours since he and Tin Tin fortified themselves inside the discount store, securing the premises by locking all entrances and exits then piling up shop fittings in front of the window as extra protection. It had been a difficult night for Steven. Unable to remove the image of the woman he loved turning into a zombie, the death and transformation of Jess repeated over and over in his head.

  It hadn’t been easy, but the Battle for Poundland had been won by the living and since the victory, the moans and groans of the deaders outside had gradually increased as the hours passed and he couldn’t help but think it wouldn’t be long before he and Tin Tin would have to do battle once again. But for now ear muffs and the crunch of discounted chocolate coated Brazil nuts was all he had to drown out the frightening sounds of zombies as they relentlessly pounded on the front of the store.

  “Nothing is airing, even the emergency broadcast has stopped,” said Tin Tin dejectedly. “I’ll try another one,” he added, pulling the wrapping apart from another wind up radio.

  Discarded radios and packaging surrounded Tin Tin. Having spent the last few hours trying desperately to find a channel still broadcasting, his demeanour had changed considerably compared to a day earlier when his quick thinking and will to survive had been instrumental in securing his and Steven’s safety. But a night of no sleep listening to the haunting sounds of the undead had taken its toll.

  Securing themselves inside Poundland had at first seemed like the perfect way to wait out the zombie outbreak. That is until Tin Tin completed a store inventory and realised that the shelves were not stacked with much in the way of useful products. Food wise there was chocolate, crisps, cereal bars, tinned hot dogs, powdered soup, and packs of processed meat - all of which were close to their use by date, lacking in nutrition and more importantly, in numbers.

  He had estimated that if they rationed what they had then the food supplies would last five weeks at the most. Fluids? four weeks at the most, just as long as they could stomach drinking nothing but sickly low budget energy drinks. Still, there were plenty of painkillers in stock to help numb the caffeine headaches.

  “She’s out of my life…” Steven sung with a mouth full of chocolate confectionery.

  “Are you listening to me? I said nothing
is broadcasting,” Tin Tin complained.

  “She’s out of my life…” Steven continued.

  “Great, just great. We’ve got zombies up our arseholes, enough food and drink to last a month if we’re lucky and you’re mourning a woman you were too nervous to say hello to never mind ask out on a date,” Tin Tin complained, throwing a wind up radio to the floor in frustration.

  “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry...” Steven warbled.

  “One more note from you and I swear you’ll regret it,” Tin Tin threatened.

  “I don’t know whether to live or die…” Steven continued, his eyes now closed whilst nutty, chocolate chunks flew from his mouth as he sang.

  “Right that’s it…” Tin Tin fumed, leaning forward to lift an ear muff from Steven’s head and yell “ZOMBIES EVERYWHERE, ARGH STEVEN HELP, ZOMBIES, ZOMBIES, ZOMBIES!”

  Steven jumped to his feet in fright, screamed in fear then ran head first into the shelving unit opposite him, knocking boxes of cereal bars onto the floor.

  “Bloody hell Tin Tin there was no need for that, you scared the shit out of me,” Steven said, his heart pounding.

  “No need? I didn’t save your arse yesterday so I can spend the rest of the apocalypse listening to you crying over a woman you hardly knew and as for that singing… I bet you the rest of that bag of chocolate Brazil nuts that there’re zombies outside with hands over their ears. In fact, I bet that’s what all the moaning is we can hear. It’s not because they want to eat us but because they want you to stop fucking singing!” Tin Tin said.

  Firmly put in his place, Steven did not dare reply, fearing a response would only infuriate his friend more. Instead, he sheepishly lowered his head, picked up the cereal bars from the floor and replaced them on the shelving unit. He then stood quietly, staring at his shoes.