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

by Peter Mckeirnon

  Ged looked again to the clock on the wall and to the time, slowly ticking away.

  “Fine, you win! We’ll go and look for them. Now you’ve put the idea in my head it’s going to be impossible for me to relax anyway. But you’re coming with me!”

  Ged took his sword in one hand and picked up his cousin’s head with the other, cradling it under his arm before leaving the office and entered the long hallway, marching to the main entrance of the building.

  Along the hallway were several doors leading to function rooms. Ged had made plans for every room within the Pavilions. The first function room was for storing food, water and general living supplies such as medicine and clothes. The second function room was going to be the armoury, filled with anything and everything that could be used as a weapon against the undead and also, other survivors. Upstairs was a third larger function room. It was the size of both the downstairs rooms combined. This was going to be Ged’s trophy room, where he would keep mementos of every ‘special’ kill he made, both undead and human alike. He only wished he’d acquired the Pavilions earlier or had the forward thinking to take a hand, tongue, leg or even head of the old lady he had killed to take her apartment and from the boy he had tied to a lamppost and set zombies upon to teach those fuckers a lesson from a few nights before. At the moment, the only trophy the large function room held, was the head of Paul Hillan but he intended to fill it.

  He pushed open the large doors and exited the building. Before him lay the hundreds of undead corpses that covered the surrounding fields and a small smog, hanging low to the ground hovered over the bodies. It was the thing of nightmares but Ged loved it and admired the view like an art lover soaking in the Café Terrace at Night by Vincent Van Gogh.

  “Almost finished boss, just this last window to do then we’re secure,” said Billy from atop a ladder to Ged’s right.

  “Me too, we should have enough limbs to cover the entire building,” Kitty informed.

  To Ged’s left, Kitty leant against a large axe and with her free hand, wiped the sweat from her tattoo covered brow. In front of her was a huge pile of chopped up zombies.

  “I’ll have these nailed onto the walls in no time,” she said.

  “Leave it for now,” Ged replied, “You’re coming with me. Billy, you stay here and look after the place till we get back. When you’re done here I need you inside to take inventory of all our stock. Joni here seems to think the others have done a runner with our loot. If my cousin is right, then not only am I going to find then murder the treacherous bastards, but we’ll be needing to do another supply run.”

  Ged sat astride Billy’s motorbike, mounting Joni’s head to the handlebar by shoving an attached mirror up his neck hole, then sliding his sword through the belt loop on his jeans. Kitty climbed upon her bike also.

  “How do you like my new GPS?” Ged laughed, “Show me the way Joni!”

  Both motorbikes left the Pavilions’ grounds and turned onto Sandy Road. Ged immediately brought his bike to a halt, signalling for Kitty to do the same.

  Dismounting the bike he walked forward, brandishing his sword, signalling for Kitty to join him. Before them was a road full of dead zombies.

  Carefully he continued forward with Kitty not far behind, brandishing a large carving knife. A huge grin filled his face. He loved what he was seeing and eyeing the many dead he became filled with adrenaline, imagining the gory battle that had taken place.

  “Do you think Johno and Deano did this?” Kitty asked.

  Ged looked further up the road. Tyre imprints from Ed’s van and Johno and Deano’s motorbikes were visible on bodies on the road.

  “No, it was someone else,” he grinned.

  He took a few more steps forward, inspecting the dead and the wounds to their heads. To his right, a little up the road was the old lady’s apartment he had taken shelter in the few days previous and he thought again about removing her head or at least one of her hands to keep as a trophy. Now was as good a time as any to revisit his victim so he approached the apartment cautiously, carefully stepping over the slain zombies.

  Then he saw her. The old lady he had murdered was loosely wrapped in a sheet on the road below the apartment window. The sheet that covered her had unravelled exposing her face and the knitting needle wound to her forehead. Then he saw the Ford Thunderbird.

  “If Johno and Deano didn’t do this then who did? Who the hell killed them all?” Kitty asked.

  Ged’s eyes opened wide and a wild expression took his face. Joining the adrenalin within was hate and anger. He knew exactly who it was that killed all those zombies and he knew why. They were coming for him, for what he did to the kid.

  Not if he got to them first.

  Journal Entry 17

  Emily sat, holding herself tightly, curled up on the couch. A quilt wrapped around her to keep warm. It was, like always, a cool afternoon but my body felt little of the cold. I was too worried about Butty, his secret but no doubt insane plan and the thought of confronting Ged, to feel the chill. The only thing my body felt was worry!

  80s Dave sat in the apartment window keeping an eye on the Pavilions and for Butty to return. He had been gone for several hours now and let me tell you, several hours in a zombie apocalypse, sat in a cold apartment with nothing to do but listen to the tinny music pumping from Dave’s headphones feels like days!

  My mind was wondering. Flipping from worrying about Butty, to how happy I was to have Emily back then to the depressing truth of our reality. What it meant to be alive in a dead world. I had to snap out of it and although I’d been putting it off, the only person that could help shift the storm cloud forming was Dave and his ability to talk shite or reel off endless facts about anything from the 1980s.

  “Spill the beans then Dave, what are you listening to that’s had you nodding your head and grinning from ear to ear for the past hour?” I asked.

  “Only the greatest soundtrack to one of the greatest movies ever made Ace. Two words John, Teen fucking Wolf! Now I’m not talking about that bollocks MTV series for morons that wouldn’t know a good TV show if it kicked them in the knackers, but the 1985 classic starring Michael J Fox as Scott Howard, the high school kid struggling to fit in until he discovers he’s a werewolf which makes him a hit with the ladies and awesome at basketball. Not only is the film an all-time classic but the soundtrack is a thing of beauty lar. Pure 80s gold and extremely rare. You’re talking anything from thirty green queens up on eBay kid, and that’s for a CD. What I’m listening too here is the original cassette. It’s worth more than your life!” Dave proclaimed.

  And he didn’t stop there, he continued, seemingly without pause for breath for the next 20 minutes detailing every song on the album and why they are such classics. He even gave Emily and I a full rendition of ‘Win In The End’ by Mark Safan, complete with a full enactment of the end of the movie where Scott Howard refuses to be the wolf to help his basketball team win the big game and instead they all pull together to defeat their rivals using good old fashioned team work. As bizarre as it was to watch him pretend to be Michael J Fox playing basketball, it did clear my head a little and for the first time since the world went to shit, I saw Emily laugh.

  After Dave had finished his Teen Wolf tribute, conversation turned towards the world we once knew and the things we miss. It was less than a week since the outbreak but the world was already a very different place.

  “I miss the internet,” Emily said, “especially social media and being able to chat and share pictures with my friends. If it was still working all we’d have to do is log on to Facebook to see who was still alive, set up an ‘event’ then we could all meet up and start to fight back.”

  She had a point. Social media dominated western culture and how we communicated with each other. Although, if Facebook was still working it wouldn’t be long till our timelines would end up filled with zombie selfies and stupid quizzes called ‘Which Zombie Are You?’ and ‘What Is Your Undead Name?” And stupid me
mes with a picture of a sad zombie and next to it some nostalgic words about the world before the apocalypse. ‘Please share if you remember when you could walk the streets without worrying you might get eaten’. I bet people would still post pictures of their food though.

  “I’m glad there’s no internet. Facebook, Twatter and bollocks like Instagram or Pinterest have done nothing for the world but make people antisocial and dumb. People spending their evening tending to their virtual farm? Give me a fucking break kid. They should be listening to music, reading a book or educating themselves by watching awesome 80s movies like Summer School, Iron Eagle, Caddyshack, Revenge of the Nerds, Animal House or Police Academy 3! Google is the worst. People don’t have to remember or even learn anything anymore, they just type what they want to know into Google and it tells them the answer. I’m glad all that shit is gone because we’re back to the good old days like when you couldn’t recall the name of the singer from Visage with all the weird make up. Sometimes you’d have to wait days or even weeks for your brain to remember. There was no Google to turn to then. You had to wait till your mind wanted you to know and when it did the answer would always pop in there when you least expected it. You would be on the bus, in an exam, in a meeting or at a funeral surrounded by grieving people when suddenly you’d blurt out STEVE STRANGE and everyone would look at you like you were a knob head! Great days Ace, great days.” Dave smiled, lighting a cigarette, “So what do you miss kid?”

  “Lazy days at home with Emily,” I replied, “visiting Butty for a few drinks at the weekend, listening to his ridiculous conspiracy theories and end of the world scenarios, safe in the belief that none of them would actually happen. Just the simple things really. I’ll tell you what I don’t miss, working at the mayonnaise factory. You know I’ve seen a lot and done a lot of disgusting things these last few days but thinking about mayonnaise makes me want to gag just as much now as it ever has. In fact, that’s the best thing about the zombie apocalypse, no more mayonnaise!”

  The three of us laughed and forgot ourselves for a moment as conversation went back and forth discussing what we did and didn’t miss. Emily missed hockey and Dave didn’t miss modern music. I didn’t miss housework and Dave did miss, as he put it “Taking the piss out of door to door religious pests, trying to convert me to whoever their ‘God of the Month’ was.”

  “What I’d do ace,” he said, “I’d open the door to them really enthusiastically then invite them in for a brew and I’d tell them that I will sign up to whatever David Icke-esq beliefs they were trying to brainwash me with, just as long as they could rap every line from Rapper’s Delight by the Sugarhill Gang. Many tried but not one of the pesky faith peddlers could manage it.”

  Breaking our conversation was the rumbling of motorbikes approaching. All three of us dove to the floor and Dave peered out of the window discreetly.

  “Cunt alert, it’s Ged, it’s fucking Ged! He’s got a woman with him with tattoos covering her bald head. She looks like a fucking marble! And what the hell is that on his bike? Sick lar! He’s got a human head stuck to his handle bars!”

  I gripped Emily by her arm and shook my head, instructing her not to make a move. I could see the hatred swelling within her.

  “Remember what your uncle said. We stay hidden till he gets back,” I said.

  Where the hell was Butty?

  Mission Improbable

  “Thanks Sky Watcher, I really appreciate it good buddy,” Butty smiled, one hand on the wheel and the other on his C.B. radio.

  “Don’t mention it Lone Wolf,” Sky watcher replied, “the girls are great and Nick is already making himself useful. He’s out back chopping up dead zombies right now. You can never have too many limbs nailed to your house, you told me that! I’ll see you and your family later, Sky Watcher out.”

  Butty’s heart was still pounding since their first face to face meeting. Both he and Sky Watcher had been flirting over the airwaves for a long time and now he had seen her, he knew she was the one for him. Nothing could have prepared him for how perfect she was.

  A vision of apocalyptic beauty greeted him when she yanked open her boarded up window and climbed down that rope ladder. Head to toe in camouflage, stab proof vest and copies of Playgirl, Hunks and Studs Monthly strapped to her arms, Sky Watcher was an angel and Butty was in heaven. On her head she wore a hard hat with A.R.S.E. written on the front. It was love at first sight.

  Any doubts he may have had disappeared when he first saw her and to his delight, she too had taken a shine to him. He now had someone other than his brother and niece to live for. Someone he had a chance to build a life with which made the execution of his plan all the more important.

  He drove into Runcorn town centre and parked in the bus station. The first step in his plan was to locate a large vehicle, like a truck, wagon or an abandoned bus, the latter he was hoping to find but there was nothing. Just a plentiful display of dead zombies.

  He left his vehicle and inspected the bus station on foot. There amongst the zombies he spied three dead bodies which appeared to have been alive when they were killed. All three them had trauma wounds to their heads and surrounding them, motorbike tracks. The only people he had encountered with motorbikes were Ged’s men and having witnessed first-hand what they were capable of, he was in no doubt that they were responsible.

  He heard a vehicle and took cover, hiding behind the broken toilet, covertly watching as the blue transit van that belonged to Ged pulled up into the bus station and a man he did not know stepped out, walking towards his location.

  Ed needed more than the supplies he took from the train station if he was to leave town. He needed weapons and something more substantial to eat. Unlike Tom, he couldn’t survive on sugary confectionary alone. He had decided to make a short stop in Runcorn town centre. There was hardware shops and supermarkets close by and his plan was to quickly gather as much weaponry and food as he could then leave, before Ged, Billy and Kitty came looking.

  Pulling up in the bus station he looked at the zombie massacre before him and hoped that whoever did this had long left the area.

  Leaving the van he cautiously approached the dead zombies, a large knife hidden behind his back should he need it. Then he saw the three dead men and the motorbike tracks.

  “Bastards!” Ed exclaimed.

  ‘CHHH!’ Butty’s C.B. radio crackled to life.

  “Dave to Crazy Ace, come in Crazy Ace, do you copy, over?” Came Dave’s voice over the C.B. radio.

  He scrambled to turn off his radio but Ed had already heard.

  “Who’s there? Come out, show yourself!” Ed demanded, gripping a concealed knife behind his back.

  With little point in staying hidden Butty stepped out from behind the portable toilet and Ed’s jaw dropped.

  “I know you! You and your friend, you stole our supplies and killed Joni. You killed Ged’s cousin!” Ed pronounced.

  “Joni? You mean that scabby headed dip shit that fell out of your van and cracked his head open? We never touched him mate, the numpty killed himself. But you, there’s plenty of blood on your hands,” Butty snarled, readying his crowbar for action.

  “I’m not with Ged and the others, not anymore anyway, not after everything they’ve done.” Ed replied.

  “What do you mean?” Butty quizzed. “I saw you with them earlier, heading out for supplies.”

  “I did but Tom and me, we… Well I left. I’m never going back,” he affirmed.

  Ed explained what had happened at the train station and how he had been waiting for an opportunity for him and Tom to escape. To get as far away from Ged as possible.

  “He’s dangerous, ruthless and psychotic. Ged doesn’t care who he hurts just as long as he gets what he wants and now he’s reconnected with the rest of his gang, well what’s left of them. There’s something about the end of the world that brings the lunatic out in people,” Ed said.

  Butty lowered his crowbar. It was clear that Ed was not a threat. Then the bu
s station echoed with the sound of groaning and a small scattering of zombies approached, closing in on the two men.

  Ed pulled out his knife and Butty raised his crowbar.

  “I hope you know how to use that? Ed asked nervously.

  Butty swooped the crowbar low at the nearest zombie, taking out its legs leaving it squirming on the ground. Then, using his heavy boots he jumped into the air and stomped on its head, crushing its skull. Using the zombie’s torso like a doormat he wiped his boots clean.

  “You could have just hit the head, there was no need to jump on it like that!” Ed squirmed.

  “It’s fun to be creative, keeps me on my toes,” Butty smiled in reply.

  With two shufflers closing in behind him, Ed turned and stabbed the knife into their heads whilst Butty continued his onslaught, taking out zombie after zombie. Soon the small horde was cleared and the two men stood victorious.

  “You said you will never go back to Ged. Well I plan to take him out for good but I could do with your help. I need your van and these three dead men,” Butty said, pointing his bloodied crowbar at their corpses, “What do you say? Are you in?”

  Journal Entry 18

  “Come on out fuckers! I know you’re in there and I know why you’re here. This is what you want right? To face me? To make me pay for killing the kid? Well I’m waiting…” Ged yelled from below our window.

  Emily was furious, her skin turning a blotchy red with rage.

  “Let me go Dad,” she fumed, “I need this, I need to face him!”

  I refused to let her go, gripping her arm tight.

  “We can take him Ace, there’s three of us and only him and the woman with a tattooed head that looks like a gob stopper. Let’s get down there and sort the prick out once and for all. We could end this now,” Dave raged, twizzling the battle paddle in his hands.

  Take him out? Who did he think we were, The Krays? Between us we had a hammer, a crowbar and an oversized badly burnt spoon. Not exactly a formidable arsenal against a serial killer with a Samurai sword!