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

by Peter Mckeirnon

  The lead biker removed his helmet revealing his flame tattooed head. He assessed the hundreds of dead zombies then looked the three men up and down.

  “Hello Ged. Where’s Joni?” the lead biker asked.

  “He’s over there in the van,” Ged replied, nodding towards the vehicle.

  The bikers looked at the van to find Joni’s rotting scabby head on the dashboard glaring back at them.

  “We assumed you were dead?” the biker smirked, turning back to Ged.

  “Ah Paul, you always underestimate me! I see you’ve got Billy, Kitty, Johno and Deano with you. I wondered what had happened to the rest of my staff. Being close to useless I had thought you were dead too but good job, you proved me wrong. Now come on we’ve got work to do. Help me clear the inside of The Pavilions,” Ged instructed, turning to walk to the building.

  “We don’t work for you anymore. We’re our own men now. Thanks for clearing the fields and doing all the hard work but we’ll take it from here and if you don’t like that then, well…” the lead biker replied.

  The bikers brandished an array of knives and bats and displayed them proudly. Both Ed and Tom backed away, keen to show they did not want any trouble.

  “Hold on, hold on. There’s no need for any of that,” Ged said approaching Paul, “We’ve known each other a long time. For years you have all served me well. You have sold my drugs and done my bidding without discourse. So now you want go out on your own? I can understand that. It’s a new world full of wonder and excitement. The only problem is it’s not your world. It’s mine!”

  Ged swung his sword quickly, removing Paul’s head from his body in one clean slice.

  Stunned, the other bikers sat like statues on their vehicles with their mouths open wide. Their eyes followed Paul’s head as it bounced and rolled along the bloodied grass before resting at Ged’s feet. He bent down and with his free hand pushed two fingers into Paul’s eye sockets and a thumb in his mouth, carrying the decapitated head like a bowling ball.

  “So, who would like to be next? Any volunteers?” he smiled, raising his sword in the air and swinging Paul’s head with his other hand.

  They all climbed off their vehicles and took a few steps towards Ged threateningly. Then they turned to each and one by one lowered their weapons.

  “Whatever you want boss, we’re with you.” Billy said, submissively.

  Ged smiled an evil teeth baring grin and led them inside the Pavilions. Ed smiled also. Not because he was pleased to have his colleagues back in the fold. He knew them for what they were. The lowest of the low. Cowardly opportunists that needed direction and easily ruled by fear.

  With these guys back in the group, Ged would pay less attention to both himself and Tom. There was now a real chance that they could escape his evil employer’s grasp.

  The mangled body of a zombie began to twitch, lifting its head out of the grass and into the air. Like it was a ten pin bowling ball Ged swung Paul’s head, sending it rolling with speed along the field before hitting the twitching zombie in the face, knocking it back into the grass.

  “Strike!” Ged cheered.

  Journal Entry 13

  “Everybody hates their job. It’s not unusual for somebody to dislike what they do for a living you know!” I snapped.

  It was dusk and the search for Emily had temporarily been put on hold so we could find somewhere secure to hole up for the night. I wasn’t happy about it but Butty had reassured me it was the right thing to do and that Emily, if she had remembered her apocalypse training, would be doing the same. Adding to my misery was 80s Dave who, since we had left our vehicles to inspect a few houses, had taken it upon himself to question my mayonnaise tasting career.

  “Yes Ace, but your job was tasting my mayonnaise and making a decision if it was good enough to go on the shelves for people to buy. I’ve watched you eat mayo kid. You have a face like a Bulldog chewing on a nettle. You’d have a better time getting your rectum examined by the Incredible Hulk! How the fuck you can run a quality check on mayonnaise when you can’t stand the stuff is beyond me,” he questioned.

  “Easy. If it looks like congealed walrus jizz, smells like eggy farts and tastes like tippex then it’s fine. Oh and please don’t refer to my job as tasting your mayo. The only good thing about the apocalypse is I don’t have to work at the bloody mayonnaise factory anymore. Don’t ruin it by making me imagine I had been tasting your junk,” I gagged.

  “Well firstly, how you know what congealed walrus jizz looks like I don’t know and nor do I want to but I can assure you that my jizz looks nothing like that. It looks more like wall paper paste, smells like digestive biscuits and tastes like, well… fuck knows. Benson & Hedges probably. And secondly, you can dress it up however you want Ace but at the end of the day I made mayonnaise and you had to eat it. I produced and you consumed,” Dave stated.

  “I think I’m gonna be sick,” Steven interrupted, heaving into a nearby bush.

  Butty had moved ahead of us to scout potential places for us to stay and I could see him shaking his head and mumbling something about having two weak bellied throw up merchants and an extra from Footloose to look after.

  “Sorry about that,” Steven apologised, “I’m still concussed and all that talk of your biscuit sperm sent me over the edge. Zombies I’m just about getting used to but hearing about your sperm I can do without,” he added, wiping puke from his chin.

  “Sorry Stevie lad. Put your fingers in your ears as I can’t guarantee such references won’t crop up again. But anyway, as you know John, unlike you, I liked working in the mayo factory. The hours were good, money was alright, the work was a piece of piss and I got to talk bollocks all day. What more could I have asked for?” Dave grinned, remembering his job fondly.

  “Well the talking bollocks bit is true. You could give my brother a run for his money with the crap you harp on about. What was it you were blabbering about the other day? When werewolves turn back into their human form where does all the hair go? And if people really want to know if the Loch Ness Monster is real, they should just test the water for monster piss,” I replied.

  “That’s not bollocks Ace, those are questions that really need answering. I bet Stephen Hawkins can’t find the answer to the werewolf one and testing Loch Ness for monster piss is just common sense. Drives me up the wall when you see these so called monster hunters with millions of pounds worth of equipment and they never find anything. Just test the river for piss! I guarantee they’ll find their answer!” he informed, like a man that had discovered the meaning of life.

  “Oi! Statler and Waldorf, keep the noise down will you and hurry up. I think I’ve found somewhere,” Butty interjected, inspecting the door of a large semi-detached house.

  The house was positioned at the top of a small cul-de-sac and from the exterior the property looked immaculate, like the zombie apocalypse had ignored its existence. To the front of the house there was a gated driveway and to the side a large wooden gate giving access to a fenced rear garden.

  “It’s not over-looked and it’s right at the top of the cul-de-sac looking down to the mouth of the road which puts us in the best defensive position should we come under attack. Now we need to break in without causing much damage to the door. Any ideas Dave?” Butty said.

  “Hey lar, just because I’m a Scouser doesn’t mean I know how to break into houses you know!” An insulted Dave yelled aggressively.

  There was a silence following Dave’s outburst as Steven and I kept quiet and Butty weighed up if Dave was really as annoyed as he appeared. Then the retro bum nugget let out a bellowing laugh.

  “Ha ha ha! Only joking Ace! Of course I know how to break into a house. I was raised in Toxteth kid!” he chortled.

  Dave swaggered towards the door whilst humming the theme tune from Hill Street Blues. He examined the door closely then crouched down, lifting the flap on the letter box.

  “The first thing to do is check in the hallway. You’ll be surprised how
many morons leave their house keys near their front door. Now let’s have a….”

  As Dave peered through the letter box a broom handle poked through and jabbed him in the forehead, sending him backwards onto his arse.

  “Don’t even think about it. I’m like, 8ft tall and stuff. I’m dead hard and I’ve got guns so go away before you get hurt!” said the young male voice from inside the house.

  “I’ll handle this,” Butty said confidently, “We are not looking for trouble but if you don’t open the door right now, we will be forced to break it down and KILL YOU!”

  “Great that Butty lad. Did you never fancy a job with the Samaritans or maybe as a police negotiator? You know, the ones they send into delicate situations to keep the peace?” Dave said rubbing his forehead.

  Just as I was about to intervene and explain to the voice behind the door that we won’t be killing anyone, the door opened quickly to reveal a petrified young man with his hands in the air and his legs trembling with fright.

  “Please don’t kill me!” the lad blubbed.

  He must have been no more than eighteen years of age and he looked petrified but who wouldn’t be? Three men just tried to break into his house and threatened to kill him. I’d be a little on the nervous side too!

  “Put the mop down soft lad we’re not going to hurt you. Well, Dave might if you stab him in the head with it again. We just need your living room for the night then we’ll be gone,” Butty said.

  Butty was now in smug mode with a grin as wide as a Cheshire cat. Pleased that his threatening approach had been a success he puffed out his chest and barged past the quivering young man entering his home.

  “Sorry about this mate and please, I know this is must be frightening but try to relax. Forget what my brother said, nobody is going to kill you. Butty has his own ways of doing things,” I said, attempting to ease the man’s concerns.

  “Yeah, he went to the Charlie Manson Finishing School for Psychos! I’m Dave by the way, the fella you poked in the head with your broom handle. Luckily for you I’m hard as nails and it didn’t hurt a bit but two inches lower and you would have bust my sunglasses, kid. Then I would have had to have killed you and unlike his brother I mean what I say!” Dave growled, following Butty into the house.

  “My name is Steven, I work in Poundland and I watched the only person I have ever loved turn into a zombie and she didn’t even know I existed. I also have a concussion and I threw up in your bushes because they were talking about walrus jizz. I don’t know these people,” Steven said, walking past the man into his house.

  “And my name is John. Thanks for opening your door, even if it was only because you thought you were going to die. Like my brother said, we just need your living room. We’ve got our own food and water, we don’t need anything else from you but somewhere safe to rest. We’ll be gone first thing in the morning I promise,” I assured the kid.

  “You’ve been outside. What’s it like out there? I haven’t stepped out of the house,” he said, regaining control of his nerves.

  “I won’t lie, it’s fucking horrible. Corpses, both dead and undead are everywhere. Runcorn looks like a war zone and from what we know, it’s like this every place else. You don’t need to hear any of this, let’s get this door closed and I can introduce you to everyone properly. You’ll see we’re not so bad really. What’s your name kid?” I asked.

  “Brittain, as in Great Britain but spelt B.R.I.T.T.A.I.N. My mother was an agoraphobic traveller too scared to leave the house. She wanted to see every inch of our land but never got further than the front door. That’s why she called me Brittain. Unfortunately I too am agoraphobic. That’s why I was asking you what it’s like outside” he jittered, a nervous twitch making his eye pulse occasionally.

  There are no normal people left in this world, they have all been eaten by zombies!

  Inside The Wolfs Lair

  “Hold my hand and don’t let go unless I say so. Remember to keep your eyes on the floor at all times, can you do that for me? There are lots of very unpleasant things out here that you do not want to see,” Nick said to Sophie firmly.

  Sophie took Nick’s hand and with baby Gaby resting snuggly against his chest in a baby sling fashioned from one of his Grandmother’s scarfs, they exited Churchill Mansions, moving vigilantly towards Runcorn town centre. In her free hand Sophie held Teddy, swinging him backwards and forwards as she moved, fixing her eyes on the ground as instructed. She felt safe with Nick and he, for the first time in his life, felt like he had a purpose.

  For as long as Nick could remember he had always been an outsider, never really conforming to the rules thrust upon him by society. His whacky clothes and outrageous hairstyles along with his impulsive and sometimes volatile personality, meant he found it difficult to settle in any one place and keeping friends had always been a problem. The one person that always saw the good in him was his Grandmother. He missed her love and kindness. Her warm smile, gentle words and caring nature always made him feel secure and more importantly, wanted. He had missed her greatly since the zombie outbreak but now in the touch of Sophie’s hand and the warmth in her eyes, he once again felt the affection missing since his Grandmother’s death.

  “Where are we going, Uncle Nick? Can I call you Uncle?” Sophie asked.

  “An old friend once told me about a man that knows everything there is about zombies and that if ever I find myself in danger, to go and see him so that’s where we’re heading and yes, of course you can call me Uncle Nick. You and little Gaby are my family now and I’m never going to leave you, no matter what,” he smiled, kissing Gaby on her forehead.

  Nick took the girls through the town centre with haste, heading on foot towards Weston Road, all the while keeping a look out for incoming zombies and for a possible vehicle they could use. The undead were plentiful but their meandering and slow shuffling was rarely a threat for Nick and Sophie’s quick feet. Any that did encroach were welcomed with a swift stab to the head from the large knife he had brought with him as a weapon.

  The further away from the Old Town and the closer to their destination they became, the more the scene changed. Shuffling zombies were replaced by slaughtered zombies, carpeting the roads and pavements with their corpses. Sophie could no longer keep her eyes fixed on the ground to avoid the hell that surrounded her.

  “Close your eyes little one. Don’t open them till I say so,” Nick instructed, lifting her up and taking her in his arms.

  She flung her arms around his neck and placed her head on his shoulder but she found it impossible to keep her eyes shut. Sophie had to see the extent of which Nick was trying to protect her from and she sneaked a look at the sea of dead people behind her. Sophie had hidden the memory of her father’s tragic death at the beaks of the rabid zombie ducks and geese, in a distant corner of her mind. But this had brought those memories flooding back. She buried her head into Nick’s chest and started to sob quietly.

  With carefully placed steps Nick continued, striding and stretching over decaying zombies till finally their numbers decreased and he reached Weston Road. Ahead of him he saw a parked car, an old 1980s red Thunderbird and from his position it appeared in good condition.

  He looked to the darkening sky. It was early evening and would soon be dark. With the undead corpses now behind him he let go of Sophie, placing her back onto her feet then from inside the make shift baby sling, Gaby began to cry.

  “She needs her feed,” Sophie said, reaching up to stroke her little sister’s head.

  “Just a little further. Then we’ll be somewhere safe and your sister can have her bottle,” he replied.

  “Uncle Nick, I saw all those dead people. There was hundreds of them and we haven’t seen real people since that horrible old lady and her son. What if we’re the last people alive?” Sophie asked.

  Nick smiled and knelt down, taking her by both hands.

  “Oh there are others, I guarantee it and they’ll be a lot nicer than that horrible old woma
n and her son too. When we find them I bet they’ll have hot food, clean clothes and somewhere safe for us to stay. I bet there’s even other kids for you to play with. Come on, let’s get a move on before it gets dark. The house I’m looking for isn’t far now. It’s just past that old car parked ahead,” he said.

  They rushed towards the Thunderbird and Nick inspected it. On the floor of the driver’s seat he saw several cigarette butts and a cassette tape labelled ‘Dave’s ultimate 80s synthtastic megamix Vol 17’. He was inspecting the vehicle’s four flat tyres when Sophie called him over.

  “Uncle Nick?” she called with concern.

  Nick looked over to Sophie, who was stood at the top of steep steps leading down to a large house. The house and the large overgrowth that surrounded it had been burnt out. His heart sank and he hoped that he had got it wrong and this wasn’t Lone Wolf’s house. Then he noticed the charred remains of body parts nailed into the blackened bricks of the property and he knew he had found the right place.

  Walking down the steps they approached the front of the house and looked upon the burnt and blackened heads of five zombies nailed to spike’s outside the entrance. They barely resembled heads at all and looked more like overcooked chicken on kebab skewers. Nick removed Gaby from her sling and gave her to Sophie.

  “Take your sister and wait here for a second, I need to look inside to see if there is anything we can take. The building might not be stable,” he said.

  “Is this the house where we were going to be safe?” Sophie asked.

  “I’m afraid it is. Wait here, I won’t be long I promise,” Nick smiled, ruffling her hair with his hand.

  He walked through the broken doorway and entered the house. The first thing that stood out, amidst the blackened interior and fire damaged walls, was that the stairway to the first floor had been removed. Recalling Believe Nothing’s detailed descriptions of Lone Wolf, he was now in no doubt he had found the correct house.