We turned into the Old High Street, and jogged down towards the harbour. Ahead of me, about halfway down the street, something sticking out from around the corner of a building on the left hand side caught my eye. ‘Wait,’ I said to Kay, coming to a stop, just short of the building.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
I could see a trainer-wearing foot protruding from a set of steps between two of the tall old buildings. I darted towards it, Kay following. We stood at the top of the steps and looked down to see a body laying on its stomach, head first down the steps. Its other leg was twisted at an unnatural angle and obviously broken. I trotted down a few steps, knelt beside the body and rolled it over onto its back. ‘It’s Josh,’ I said, looking up at Kay. ‘His throat’s been cut.’
‘Shit,’ said Kay, putting a hand to her mouth.
‘He must have been out looking for us. I don’t think he’s been dead long.’ I put my hand under his shirt. ‘He’s still a little warm.’ I stood up and turned to face Kay. ‘I’m not Columbo, but I think Anna has been here.’
Entry Thirteen
Keen to be out of the area before a search party from St Andrews showed up, we left the body and sprinted the rest of the way down the street. At the restaurant on the right hand corner at the bottom of the Old High Street, I spotted a red, bloody hand print on the glass front. The print smeared around the corner of the glass, making it look as though who left it had spindly, spider leg fingers. It led towards the harbour. ‘Kay!’ I said, stopping and nodding to the bloody streak. She looked at it, then back at me. We had a direction to head in. I wondered if Misfit would be proud of my tracking skills, and realised – under the circumstances – he probably wouldn’t be.
A thought occurred to me. I pulled off my leather jacket and spat at the drying blood.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Kay as I used the sleeve of my jumper to rub at the spidery print. Without answering her, I spat at the window again and wiped off as much of the blood as I could, leaving only the faintest smudge. I put the leather jacket back on, darted up the hill and down the steps to Josh’s body. I crouched beside him. Placing my hand on his throat, I coated the palm of my hand with his cooling blood, grimacing as I did so. I trotted up the steps, turned right and slammed my palm against a shop window. I ran my hand a little way along the glass, moving in an upwards direction before removing my hand and jogging a little further up the street. I repeated the exercise on another shop window, leaving a fainter but still noticeable bloody hand print. ‘What are you doing, for fuck’s sake?’ Kay asked again as she followed me.
‘Making sure we don’t get followed,’ I said. ‘If the others are searching for us, they’ll follow the blood trail up into town. Come on.’ We sprinted back down the street and turned right, following the original, now missing, hand print.
With no sign of any more bloody hand prints to follow and feeling exposed out in the open, I darted into the alley behind the True Brit Pub. Kay followed. Behind the True Brit stood another pub, abandoned long before the outbreak, its door and ground floor windows sealed up with metallic boards. I stopped at the bottom of some old stone steps to the left of the pub. ‘Up here,’ I said, needing somewhere quiet to think.
Up the first set of steps, I saw a busted in door set in the graffiti covered wall at the side of the old pub, and stopped to take a look. The dingy, dank brick wall lined courtyard inside belonged to the abandoned pub. It looked like a health and safety nightmare. I saw a rubbish strewn, uneven dirt floor with a warped wooden board laid over it, leading to a concrete walkway to the rear of the beige pebble-dashed building. The back door of the pub had been sealed up with more of the metallic board.
I ducked inside the courtyard, jumped down onto the dirt floor, avoiding the wooden board, and walked towards the rear of the pub. I slumped onto the cold, damp ground. With my back resting against the dark blue painted railing behind me, I glanced behind to see large holes running either side of the concrete walkway, down into the pub’s dark cellar. I guessed there must have been some sort of covering over them once, and maybe a trap door where the beer barrels were loaded down.
Kay sat next to me and we both took a moment to catch our breath.
‘Looks like Sean has dumped us in it,’ I said eventually. ‘Which means we’re in a fuck of a lot of trouble.’
‘You think?’ Kay said sarcastically. ‘What do we do now?’
I chewed my lip while I paused for thought. ‘If we’re going to stand a chance of ever being accepted back, we’re going to have to find Sean and convince him to hand his sister over to St Andrews,’ I said after a moment.
‘He won’t do it.’
‘We have to try.’
‘But where the fuck do we start?’ Kay asked, looking at me. ‘He could be anywhere by now.’
‘I guess we should keep moving to the right, away from the harbour. We’ve got that hand print to go on,’ I said. ‘And I don’t feel comfortable hanging around here, so close to St Andrews. I think we should just head out and keep moving.’
‘And if we don’t find him, I reckon we should just keep moving – straight out of town,’ said Kay.
I screwed up my face. ‘We’ll find him.’ I used the railings to hoist myself up to standing. Kay did the same and we climbed out of the courtyard.
At the bottom of the steps, back in the harbour, I stopped when I heard a dragging noise from around the other side of the True Brit. I put a finger to my lips to warn Kay to be quiet, then pointed in the direction of the sound. From around the corner emerged a zombie, followed by two more. I gasped – the front runner was Sam … my Sam, his white t-shirt, the one he wore for our wedding, stained with black blood. His jaw hung open. ‘Sam?’ I couldn’t help myself calling to him. He snarled and lumbered towards me, his filthy, rotting fingers reaching out for me.
‘Sophie, get back and don’t look,’ said Kay as she sprang forwards with her axe raised.
‘No!’ I snapped, grabbing her elbow.
‘Sophie, he’s a fucking zombie – a full blown, will-tear-your-throat-out-and-guzzle-your-brain zombie,’ said Kay. ‘I’m going to put him down. Don’t look!’
Sam staggered close enough to touch the tip of Kay’s axe. I shoved her sideways so hard that she hit the back wall of the True Brit with her right shoulder. ‘Sam!’ I called. I turned and darted for the steps me and Kay had just climbed down. I waited on the bottom step for Sam to catch up with me. I glanced over Sam’s shoulder to see Kay steady herself after my shove and launch herself at the other two zombies. While the zombies kept Kay busy, I turned and trotted up the steps and waited again by the door to the courtyard. ‘Sam,’ I said gently. Sam snarled and swiped at the air. His dark floppy hair was matted with dried blood and dirt, and yellow drool dribbled from his chin.
I leapt down the step into the courtyard. I heard Kay yell up the steps, ‘What are you doing, you fucktard?’ Sam stood at the edge of the step down into courtyard. I saw his head jerk towards the sound of Kay’s voice. ‘Sam,’ I said again. ‘This way. Come for me.’ He turned back to me and flopped down onto the dirt floor, regaining himself clumsily and staggered across the uneven ground towards me. I stood with my back pressed against the blue railings. There was nowhere else for me to go. As Sam approached, I slid my knife into my belt to free my hands while I waited for him.
Kay appeared at the door. ‘Sophie! For fuck’s sake …’
Sam’s head jerked around. ‘Sam!’ I said. He turned back to me, staggered a few more paces and lunged at me. I sidestepped and Sam hit the railings with his stomach. ‘I’m doing this for you,’ I whispered as I grabbed the waistband of his skinny jeans and hauled him up and over the railings. He flailed and groaned as he fell down into the dark cellar. I prayed the fall wouldn’t smash his head open. When I heard a thump, I leaned over the railings. I couldn’t see a thing at first. But as my eyes got used to the gloom, I saw movement, then Sam’s arms appeared, reaching up towards me.
I heard
a thud behind me, feet hitting hard ground as Kay joined me at the railings. ‘What the fuck?’ she said as she peered into the cellar.
I didn’t take my eyes off Sam’s gaunt, grey face. ‘Sara holds the cure, Kay,’ I said.
‘The cure to zombieism?’ she said, looking at me. ‘Sophie, this is real life. Not some Sci-Fi movie with men in white coats in high tech labs creating antidotes in test tubes. Most human beings are dead and those that aren’t dead already are dying and will soon be dead. Sorry, but if you think you can save him, you’re fooling yourself.’
I turned my head to look at her. ‘I’m keeping him safe, just in case.’
Entry Fourteen
Back in the harbour, we headed right; our only lead, a bloody smear on a café window. We turned into Marine Parade, a row of tall nineteenth century terraces, mostly converted into flats, lining the right hand side of the road and the beach to the left. At the beginning of the terrace row stood the Gran Canaria Hotel. I stopped. ‘Kay, this was where that Marco bloke said him and his people were staying. Do you think we should check it out? They might have seen or heard something, something to help us find Sean and Anna.’ Kay nodded her agreement and we shot across the road towards the hotel.
‘Do you see that?’ said Kay as we drew closer to the hotel. I followed the line from her raised finger to the hotel and saw a faint blood smear on the white paint around the door frame.
We trotted up the front steps and across the terrace with the four story white painted façade looming over us and paused at the door. It stood ajar. I nudged it open and stepped over the threshold. Straight ahead, I saw a lift, next to that a white door with a sign saying ‘PRIVATE’ in silver letters. To my left a large L-shaped faded red velvet sofa lined two walls of the reception area, with the dark oak reception desk at the rear. A row of tall padded stools sat in front of the reception desk making it look more like a bar in a cosy old pub than a check in desk.
To the right, a big red velvet U-shaped sofa, even more faded than the one in reception, sat in front of the tall arched windows. All these details registered in the back of my brain, but what pushed itself to the forefront was the blood. The cream walls were covered in bloody hand prints, I even noticed a big red smiley face smeared on the mirror in the reception area.
More blood stained the patterned carpet, sticky under my feet. ‘Jesus,’ said Kay. ‘Who decorated this place – Sweeney Todd? It stinks of dead things in here.’ I sniffed, Kay was right, the air wasn’t just old abandoned building style stale and dank, there was something else … sweet and musty – the smell of dead things. Something told me the blood on the walls was just the introduction to something a whole lot worse.
‘What the hell happened here?’ I said as I edged further inside the foyer. With my stomach tightening and my palms beginning to sweat, I headed for a door to the right of the one marked ‘PRIVATE’. When I pulled it open, the smell of death wafted towards us. Kay gagged and covered her mouth with her left forearm. I coughed and put a hand to my mouth and nose, holding the door open with my right shoulder. We slipped through the door and stood in a stairwell. Stairs led up to the left, I guessed to the hotel rooms, and to the right, they led down.
We paused for a moment, wondering which way to go. I sniffed. The acrid smell of death filled my nostrils, leading me downwards. Following the stench we crept down the stairs, turning left as they bent round until we arrived at an open door. The room beyond was pitch black inside but the strength of the stench told me we had reached our destination. I strained my ears for any sounds to indicate we weren’t alone, but I heard nothing.
We crept inside the room. I opened my eyes as wide as I could, hoping to be able to see something other than blackness, to no avail. My foot hit something hard on the ground and I stumbled a little. I managed to get my balance and I kicked out at the thing before me, running my foot to the left and to the right, testing its length. Something solid and long lay before me.
Remembering my lighter, I pulled it out of my pocket and pressed the button. The small flame highlighted the top of a table to my right. It had a red and white checked plastic tablecloth over it and in the centre stood five candles, all burned down to varying heights. I lowered the flame towards my feet and recoiled when I saw the body of a man. I ran my flame along the line of the body and noticed its stomach had been ripped open, what was left of its insides spilled slimily onto the floor. The flesh on the man’s left arm had been stripped down to the bone. I moved the flame to its head, bending down so I could get a good look. The body was human with no head wound. It had been murdered, not attacked by a zombie.
I stood up and edged my way across to the table. I held my lighter to the wick of one of the candles, moving the flame on to the next until all five had been lit. ‘Fuck me!’ I said as the resulting glow revealed piles of dead and mutilated bodies stretching back into the room. The bodies littered the floor of what I could now see was a small windowless subterranean restaurant. Columns formed archways, through which I spotted more red and white topped tables nestled in what would once have been cosy nooks and crannies to enjoy a meal with a loved one. But now, with the low ceiling, blood splattered white walls and butchered bodies, looked more like a serial killer’s basement.
I stepped over the dead man in front of me and walked around to the left, stepping over and around bodies as I went. My head snapped in every direction – more bodies, more bloody hand prints on the wall. ‘Shit. This has to be Marco and his group … or what’s left of them.’
‘Anna’s been a busy girl,’ said Kay.
I studied the decomposing body of a young man. He had been stripped naked and his chest cavity was empty. He had bite marks on his arms and over his ribcage, chunks of flesh missing but, again, no head injury. Beneath him lay a plump middle aged woman with long cuts from her shoulder to her wrists on her right arm, and her throat had been cut. Her clothing below the waist had been removed and I could see parts of her leg bones where her flesh had been eaten away. ‘And obviously hungry too,’ I said. ‘Kay, I don’t believe Anna did this all on her own.’
‘Shit. We’re a couple of mugs.’
‘What?’
‘Sean. Him and Anna. It has to have been the pair of them.’
‘No. I don’t –’
‘I don’t want to believe it either but like you said, Sophie, one girl can’t have done all this. Maybe Sean and Anna have a Firefly family thing going on …’ said Kay.
‘I can’t believe that.’
‘Then what do you suggest?’
I let out a long sigh.‘Shit … and we’ve just stumbled upon the sadistic serial killer family’s latest kill.’ Horrified, I stumbled back and hit something hard behind me with my foot. I looked around to see a pile of bodies in front of the bar. As my foot made contact with them, the head of one rolled across the floor. Kay jumped at the sight, staggered back and hit the raised bar hatch with her elbow. The wooden hatch fell down with a slam.
‘Shit!’ she yelled.
‘We should get out of here,’ I said, backing out of the room. ‘We’ve no idea –’ The sound of feet tearing down the stairwell outside the restaurant cut me off. ‘Fuck, someone’s coming!’ I leapt over the bodies and around to the table with the candles and blew them out. With the frantic footsteps getting louder, I darted back around to the bar, tripping over bodies in the dark. I struck my lighter and saw the gap under the bar’s hatch. ‘Through here,’ I whispered to Kay and the pair of us crawled underneath and hid behind the bar. I switched off my lighter, shoved it in my pocket and sat with my back against the wood, my knees drawn to my chest.
I heard the feet stop outside the restaurant door. I prayed whoever it was, they wouldn’t come in. But the sound of a sudden squeak of chair legs scraping the wooden floor told me someone was in the room with us. I held my breath as I heard footsteps skulk past the bar. I considered grabbing Kay and running out the door, but in the dark room with the floor littered with bodies, I didn’t really
fancy it. And I had no idea if there would be anyone waiting for us at the top of the stairs. So I sat tight.
The footsteps scurried back past the bar and towards the door. I allowed myself to breath again as I heard the door shutting, hopefully indicating whoever it was had left. The faint sound of footsteps heading up the stairs confirmed me and Kay were now alone in the restaurant. ‘They’re sick, Kay,’ I said, switching my lighter on so I could see her. ‘What have we set loose?’
‘All fucking hell, by the looks of it.’
‘Come on,’ I said, crawling out from behind the bar on my knees and one hand, the other hand holding the lighter out in front of me.
We crept over to the door. I switched my lighter off, cupped my hands over my face and peered through its narrow glass panel. I saw nothing but an empty stairwell. I slid my knife from my belt and placed my free hand on the door handle, but when I tried to open it, I discovered it wouldn’t budge. ‘Shit,’ I said. ‘We’re locked in.’
‘Well I’m not sitting around in here waiting to be the next notch on a serial killer’s torture room bedpost,’ said Kay. I struck my lighter and illuminated Kay who stood before me, axe in hand. ‘We’re getting the fuck out of here,’ she said.
Aside from attracting whoever locked us in, the glass panel in the door was too narrow to climb through, so smashing it would be pointless. We decided to look for another way out.
I headed back to the table and lit one of the candles, a short fat one, and I picked it up. It gave off more light than my lighter and didn’t hurt my thumb from having to keep a button depressed. I held the candle out in front of my body as I edged around the room – no windows. Not off to a good start. We crept back to the bar and followed it to the left where we found a set of double doors. I pushed one side open to see a large kitchen, long stainless steel work surfaces straight ahead, but I noticed a faint glow of daylight to the left.
Blog of the Dead (Book 2): Life Page 11
