Dead Bones - Six Pack. The Ultimate Zombie Collection

by Ian Woodhead

  “What if he hasn’t though?”

  Marcus had been thinking of getting out of the mill and into town, there must be other survivors out there. He walked into another empty apartment and look out of the living room window. The street below echoed his findings in here, there was just nothing moving.

  “There must be somebody about,” he muttered.

  He moved about the apartment and picked up a mobile phone from a white table. Marcus turned the device around in his hands. This product of modern living was probably its owner’s most treasured object; what use was it to anyone now? He vaguely wondered what happened to the owner before dropping it onto a rocking chair. Marcus made his way into the kitchen and selected a carving knife from out of a wooden knife block beside the bread bin. He wasn’t going anywhere until he’d dealt with that little man.

  The knife was only for show purposes. Just by looking at the little man, Marcus had sensed that threatening him with his wooden pole wouldn’t be enough; despite knowing that he’d easily damage the bastard with it, he needed to frighten the man.

  He slipped the knife into his belt and turned around; he saw his reflection in a wall mirror, and bloody hell, he looked a mess. “Are you really going to hit him with your stick?”

  His reflection nodded back. What else could he do? It’s not as if he could call the police; besides, that little man posed a serious danger to anyone else he may meet. “I need to take him out of the equation.”

  The man had to be located first; this apartment was a lot larger than his with an extra couple of rooms. All the other doors in here were shut tight, and as far as he knew that man could be hiding in any of them. Marcus tried to work out just how many shut and locked doors there must be in this mill. The more he thought about the number, the more he understood why there was nobody about. Who in their right mind would leave their apartment?

  Marcus closed his eyes, thinking of how poignant those words were. He should have phoned Linda, told her to stay put. Fuck, he should have ordered her to stay in the apartment and then rushed back.

  He rushed out of the kitchen and away from that mirror; he didn’t like the accusing look that his reflection was giving him. Marcus grabbed the handle to the nearest door, opened it and peered inside. There was nothing here save an empty double bed and a large wardrobe stood against the far wall. “What about in there? It’s an excellent hiding place.”

  Marcus shut the door and moved on to the next door; if he added furniture to his list, he’d be here for fucking days. Then again, it’s not like he had anywhere important to rush off to. He paused and looked behind him, wondering if he really should check out the wardrobe.

  “Come on, man, think this through. Where would the bastard go? What would he look for?”

  Marcus opened the next-door, saw an empty cot, and sighed.

  “Those folks not hiding behind locked doors would look for other survivors,” muttered Marcus as he clicked the door shut, “just like you’re doing.”

  He rushed out of the apartment and set off running down the corridor, not believing how stupid he’d been. Marcus abruptly stopped just before he reached the door leading to the stairs. Another darker reason pushed through his self-pity, one that accounted for the lack of people. Predators like to stay close to their source of food.

  He knew where they’d all be, it was fucking obvious; they’d have all gone to the mezzanine level where all the shops, the bar, and the gym were located. He took out the knife and pushed through the doors, it looked like he would need the blade after all.

  Marcus moved down the stairs, keeping his back to the wall; if the little man was down here then he’d be hiding and watching. Standing at the bottom of the stairs and gazing through the fire-door window would be an excellent hiding place. He moved down another step then leaned across and looked over the metal railing.

  “Shit.” There was nobody down there.

  Marcus ran down the rest of the stairs, feeling like his prize had just been pulled away from him. The corridor beyond the doors was, deserted, just like the corridor on the level above. Before Marcus debunked his theory, he still needed to check out the establishments.

  He walked past the bar, not even looking through the windows—that was the last place he’d investigate. Marcus looked at the blade, watching those accusing eyes stare back at him, “You left Bonzo to die in there.”

  No, that was bollocks. He didn’t leave anyone to die. He’d done everything he could to help. It had been Bonzo who’d told him to bugger off. Hell, he couldn’t even open the door.

  “Wait on, lad,” he muttered. Marcus lifted the blade up and looked once more at the reflection, and all he saw was a pair of confused looking eyes staring back at him. “What’s with the sudden guilt trip attack?”

  He stopped by the gym door. “Linda used to play the guilt trip game all the time,” he uttered, sighing. The guilt trip game had been her favourite weapon in the early days of their relationship.

  Marcus looked again at his reflection. “Is Linda haunting me?” Marcus paused. “Is she really dead?” His pale blue eyes didn’t give him the answer that he craved. Before he dropped his arm, Marcus caught movement behind him. He spun around and fell back in shock as the treadmill bloke stared at Marcus from the other side of the glass.

  He got off the carpet, picked up the knife, and slowly approached the glass. The man wasn’t even staring at Marcus, the man’s eyes weren’t focussed on anything. He danced his fingers in front of the man’s eyes and there was still no reaction. Marcus was about to tap on the glass when the man abruptly turned and shambled towards the reception desk.

  When the man had stumbled past the desk, Marcus quietly opened the door and slipped inside. This area of the Mill retained its pre-event appearance. He saw nothing out of place—no blood, no mess, and definitely no body parts. It gave him hope that somebody may be alive and hiding in here.

  The thing let out a low moan.

  Marcus had to dispatch the walking abomination as quickly as possible in case there were survivors. He looked at his knife, then the wooden pole, and Marcus decided on the pole. He placed his knife on the desk and headed for the direction of the sound.

  His blood froze when an ear-splitting scream rang out from the fitness room.

  He was too fucking late! Marcus raced towards the room, not believing that yet another person had perished because he had hesitated. He would at least ensure that this one wouldn’t take another life.

  The cardio section was now empty so there was no point looking in there. He then saw movement in the free weights area and ran towards it. He skidded to a halt and blinked.

  “What the fuck?”

  Marcus was too late alright, too late to deal with the groaning dead man. Somebody had already laid him out. He then saw the originator of that scream standing behind another figure clad in protective clothing. He breathed a sigh of relief to see that the woman didn’t seem injured, glad that his guilty conscience had taken a hit.

  His guilty conscience took another battering when the figure took off the protective head gear.

  “Bonzo?” he shouted, rushing towards him.

  The man dropped his own weapon, ran forward, and wrapped his arms around Marcus. “Oh, man. I can’t tell you how frigging happy I am to see you.”

  Marcus didn’t reply, he couldn’t. If he tried to speak he’d start to weep and not be able to stop. Instead, he squeezed the man tighter.

  “My family has gone, Marcus.” Bonzo said. “The two people whom I’d die for have just vanished. I’ve looked fucking everywhere.”

  Marcus closed his eyes, he wished he could say something to ease the man’s pain; the agony of not knowing must be wrenching the man’s heart in two.

  “Just don’t give up hope just yet, my friend. Hell, we have survived.” He nodded at the silent woman in front of him.” “And it seems that we’re not the only ones.”

  Bonzo gently peeled Marcus off him. “Sorry, man, I should have introduc
ed you two. Marcus meet Helen and vise versa.”

  Marcus leaned across and shook her hand. It seemed the most bizarre way to greet her, but somehow it felt right. “Hello Helen, I’m so glad to meet you,” he said, smiling.

  “Yeah well, after I checked out our apartment and any other unlocked door on our level, I don’t need to tell you two of the horrors I saw in those other rooms. Bonzo shivered. “Anyway, I figured to come back here, thinking if they did escape then Christine and Katie may come looking for me. I didn’t find them, but I did find this young lady stood over one of those dead things holding some sort of electric baton.”

  The brush handle fell from Marcus’s hand. “An electric baton?”

  The woman shivered and nodded. “It belonged to this horrible little man.”

  “A Wormy little bastard wearing glasses and with hardly any hair? Oh, fuck! Please, Helen, tell me that the bastard is no more.”

  She shook her head. “He left me in there to die, after he’d...” Helen took a deep breath. “After he’d tried to hurt me.”

  Bonzo nodded, “I think I’ve seen him. I saw someone fitting that description running out of an apartment earlier on.”

  If there was a chance that Bonzo’s family were still alive then Marcus needed to make sure that they found them before the little weirdo did. He noticed the burn on the woman’s neck, and it didn’t take him long to work out just how that evil bastard had hurt her.

  Marcus left his sweeping brush handle on the floor and walked over to a large steel box in the corner of the gym. He turned and smiled at Bonzo. “Guess who has a key for this.”

  Bonzo followed him over. “Jesus, you mean you can get in here?”

  He nodded and took out a set of keys from his back pocket. I forgot to hand them back a couple of days ago.” Marcus opened the box and passed Bonzo his katana.

  “Is that sword real?” Helen asked.

  Marcus took the other katana and closed the box. “Bonzo, let’s see if we can find your family.”

  Bonzo looked over to the woman, “Helen, I hope that you stay with us. I can promise you that we both know how to use these weapons and if we do happen upon the man who hurt you, he won’t live long.”

  “I’m going to slice the fucker up,” Marcus growled.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  He’d already forgotten her name. Vincent couldn’t remember if it was Mary or Marie. It could even be Maria. Not that it really mattered; besides, he found his conscience was more forgiving if he didn’t know their names.

  “Are you sure that you’re okay, love? You look awfully pale.”

  Her watery blue eyes were full of genuine concern. Vincent turned away, unable to look at the old woman. If he could draw enough breath to speak his impulse there and then, he would have told her to run and to get as far from this place as possible. Instead, he just slowly nodded and pushed himself away from the wall.

  The slight vibration Vincent felt at the base of his skull helped him bury that traitorous thought. She was still inside his mind,

  I’m sorry for the delay, mistress. I’m still having a little trouble regaining my strength.

  Had she picked that thought up? Her skills were improving but their silent communication had only been previously been possible whilst standing beside her.

  It’s okay, my love. I won’t be needing her for a few minutes yet. I’m still enjoying your last treat. Just don’t take too long.

  He almost fell onto the floor when that thunderous signal slammed into his brain. The mistress was growing in power as he became weaker. Most of his strength had gone. He coughed, then put his hand on the woman’s arm.

  The mistress had effectively drained him. He thought back to his last session with the mistress; she’d demanded Vincent’s attentions a few minutes after she’d sampled that big fellow on the level below. He’d always prided himself on his virility. Vincent knew for a fact that Christopher had always been jealous of Vincent’s staying power. He could carry on through the night as his partner had curled up, exhausted and slept.

  Vincent fumbled in his back pocket for another energy bar. Since the woman had changed, he didn’t have a chance of keeping up with her voracious appetite. He’d always assumed that death by sex would have been the most pleasant way to leave this mortal coil. As Vincent watched his magnificent body slowly degrade, he began to believe that he may have been wrong. Although, if she kept this up, there was no doubt in his mind that he’d be dead in a few hours.

  The woman beside him was the last one to survive the onslaught on this level. Alex had promised him that once she’d fed on this one then they were going to leave the Mill and hunt for fresh meat. He feared that she wouldn’t be taking him with her.

  “Are you sure you are okay, young man?”

  Vincent gave her his best winning smile. “I do feel a lot better,” he replied. What he really needed was a full week in bed to get back to normal. At least the artificial high from the bar allowed him to walk unaided.

  “I still don’t understand … we can’t go straight downstairs? I thought you said those things had all gone now?”

  “We will, lady, but the others think it will be safer if we all go together. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. Besides, they’ve saved you a bit of food and made you a nice hot cup of tea.”

  The woman’s frown softened. He needed her to think happy thoughts, if she got jittery and start asking more dumb questions then he feared that his Good Samaritan façade would slip.

  I need her now, Vincent!

  He didn’t jump or scream when the woman slid into his mind once more.

  We’re almost there.

  Vincent needed to think happy thoughts as well. If Alex discovered his doubts, then his own life expectancy would be measured in seconds.

  “How are you holding out?” he asked. Vincent wanted her to stop asking how he was. He could handle the mistress treating him like some sort of pet poodle, there wasn’t much he could do about that. He didn’t want this ancient woman’s pity though. That was just embarrassing. It was ironic now that his own energy was increasing, his empathy towards the woman diminished.

  “I’m a lot better, thanks to you,” she replied, smiling.

  The woman was in a right state when he’d first found her. The mistress had directed him to the apartment where she was hiding, warning Vincent to be cautious as two of the filthy things were in there with the woman.

  It had taken him just moments to dispatch the walking bags of corruption. A couple of hard smacks of their heads with his lump hammer was all in took to down them.

  There had been no sign of his target and Vincent was about to question the validity of Alex’s claim, when something inside the wardrobe next to the two corpses shuffled about.

  Vincent had then noticed the broken fingernails of both the dead bodies and the deep claw marks in the wooden door. Those things were trying to get inside. When he pulled the door open, the old woman tumbled out.

  The mistress had taken over Christopher’s apartment, his door was now in sight.

  The old woman squeezed his shoulder. “I can’t thank you enough for saving my life.”

  Even from five doors away, Vincent could feel the mistress’s desire to break open this last one. He paused and pretended to catch his breath. He needed to push back his own thoughts of escape before giving the woman her meal.

  It seemed poetic to think that the woman beside him would be giving her life away in order to save Vincent’s. He’d already mentally mapped his route down to his car. Whilst she had fed on her last victim, he had used the distraction to quickly pack a bag and put his car keys into his back pocket.

  He also dropped in the pistol. Vincent had known that he was taking a huge risk in snatching it off the floor. At the time, Alex was too preoccupied in ripping through the big man’s ribcage to notice Vincent picking up the trophy. Then again, considering the three bullets that had slammed into her hadn’t put Alex down, she probably didn’t think the pi
stol was all that deadly.

  Of all the victims that she had eaten, he had been the only one who’d stayed silent despite the terrible injuries she’d inflicted on his body. Vincent didn’t think that he’d be able to suffer in silence, and he shuddered. He wasn’t intending to allow that scenario to happen.

  The old woman smiled at him, and his empathy chose that moment to make a sudden appearance. Christ, he had to turn away, knowing that he intended to use her agonising screams as camouflage.

  Vincent stopped at the door and raised his hand, intending to knock. Would his pounding heart betray him? He attempted to clear his mind by dredging up past memories of his mistress straddling his naked hips, writhing in ecstasy. He knocked twice and waited for five slow seconds.

  Something wasn’t right here. Alex was supposed to open the door at the second knock.

  Are you in there, mistress?

  Of course, she was inside, where else could she be? Vincent frowned; no, something here was defiantly amiss. Even that feeling of Alex constantly watching over his shoulder had now gone.

  She could be dead. The woman, if that what was she still was, may have just keeled over. Why not? This was all new territory. Anything could happen. The image of her sprawled amongst her torn up victims, convulsing and choking entered his mind and refused to leave. The picture was delicious, but he dare not dwell on it. Vincent thought of the colour blue and waited until it had scrubbed away his previous treacherous thought.

  He pushed open the apartment door and took one tentative step across the threshold. Going inside was the last thing he wanted to do—his instincts told him to get the fuck out of here.

  “It seems rather quiet.”

  She was probably expecting to enter a room full of fellow survivors, all talking in hushed tones.

  Vincent shrugged, “They’re all probably asleep.” He took another step into the dark room, he had to check to ensure that the monster really was dead.

  “Now, are you sure that you’ve packed everything in your little bag, Vincent? You do know that that pistol is empty,” whispered a familiar voice in his ear.