Savage: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel

by Wright, Iain Rob

  Barker did as he was told and Price lowered his weapon too. He re-holstered the 9mm behind his back and knelt down beside Garfield. The guy they called Lemon did the same. “Is he going to be okay, sir?”

  Price sighed. Sir? This guy likes to obey. “No, he’s not going to be okay. He just took two slugs in the chest. And don’t call me ‘sir’, I work for a living.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for your loss. He seemed like the only one of you with any sense.”

  There was silence amongst the group and Price crossed the dead man’s arms across his chest and repositioned his head. It was the least he could do.

  It scared the shit out of him when the man started to cough and splutter. “Jesus Christ, you’re alive.”

  The man was out of breath, gasping and struggling, but he had the strength of an ox and Price could do nothing as he forced himself into a sitting position. He continued coughing for a good few minutes, but when he was done, he grasped at the buttons on his shirt and tore them loose. His shirt fluttered open and Price was surprised to see that neither slug had managed to enter the man’s chest. Three hunks of lead were lodged into a thick barrier of what looked like history magazines. The man had wrapped them around his torso like armour. It was a novel idea, but probably wouldn’t have worked against a modern calibre bullet. Luckily, the dingo had fired two ancient lead rounds from an antique pistol. The magazines had been enough to save his life.

  Price helped the man to his feet. “You okay, buddy? It’s Garfield, right?”

  The man nodded, clutching his chest. Even though the bullets hadn’t penetrated, the force of the blow would still have been like standing in the way of a bull. “I…yeah, I’m fine. I’m…I’m sorry all this happened.”

  Price sighed. “Well, if anything, it showed me that not everyone is out to murder and rape. If I thought you were the one in charge, I would let you leave here with everything you ask for.”

  “He is in charge,” said Lemon. “He’s always been in charge.”

  Price looked at Kirk. The younger man was trembling. “That true, lad? I thought you were the head honcho of this outfit?”

  Kirk shook his head. “N-no. Garfield has always been in charge. I only took over yesterday because…”

  “Because you all got charmed by the dingo and stopped following orders. You know what happens to deserters in the Army, lad?”

  Kirk looked ashamed. He turned around and walked away.

  In the distance there was moaning. “The dead are coming,” said Price, sighing. “The gunfire has attracted them.”

  “We need to get that hole in the fence filled in,” said Garfield.

  Price waved his hand. “You people need to get out of here or else you’ll never get the chance. The dead will surround the entire base before long. We’ve only survived this long by keeping quiet.”

  Garfield opened his mouth and closed it again. “I...I’m sorry. This was your home and we’ve endangered it.”

  “Just get out of here,” said Price. There was no point making apologies that fixed nothing.

  There was a rumbling of an engine. Price looked over to see that Kirk had jumped up into one of the trucks and started the engine. Two other men had run off after him and jumped into the rear bed of the truck.

  Garfield shouted. “Kirk, what the hell are you doing? Lenny, Luke…. Stop right now.” Kirk disobeyed him and ground the gears into first. The truck began to move. It headed for the chain link fence, picking up speed. Price ripped a grenade from his utility vest and went to pull out the pin. Garfield grabbed his wrist. “Please, don’t. He’s a stupid kid, more scared than I realised. This is my fault. I lost control of the group. People panic when there’s no leader. He’s a good person, and so are Lenny and Luke. Let them go, please.”

  Price stared at the other man and shrugged. He placed the grenade back in his belt. “Your call. Would only attract more dead anyway.”

  Kirk sped up and the truck roared. It’s huge weight rushed forward. The front of the vehicle smashed into the chain link fence and dragged it along. It folded beneath the truck’s giant wheels and slapped into the dirt. As the truck took off at full speed, a length of fence twenty metres long went with it.

  The dead moaned in the distance, but were already closer.

  Price grunted. “There goes the neighbourhood. Get out of here before the dead give you no choice.”

  “Come with us,” said Garfield. “We took away your safety, but we have a camp at a pier on the south coast. It’s safe there and we all look after one another.”

  It felt like charity, but Price knew that staying at the barracks was a death wish. He had to move on; the only question was whether or not to go with Garfield and his men. He glanced at Barker. Barker shrugged. “Fine. Let’s just get the fuck out of here and quick. What’s the quickest way to your camp?”

  “The motorway would take less than a day,” said Garfield, “But it’s choc-a-block with cars and zombies.”

  Price scratched his jutting chin and smiled. “I may have just the thing.”

  When he showed Garfield what he had hidden at the back of the camp beneath a large green tarp, the man began to bellow with laughter. “I guess we’re taking the motorway, then,” he said. “Anna is never going to believe this.”

  FRANK

  Frank was outside taking a breath when he saw the small yacht approaching from the distance. Night had fallen but an interior lamp lit up the small vessel. The lamp’s glow was puny compared to the fires of the night before.

  The Kirkland’s aft deck was bustling, as it usually was in the evenings. Men played cards and flirted with the handful of women on board, sharing their alcohol rations like there was no tomorrow. The fireworks show at the pier had made everyone rowdy.

  The supply of booze to the crewmen of the Kirkland had been lowered recently after a rash of drunken behaviour that stretched all the way from bad language to rape. The men and women aboard the frigate were tired, weary, and had left their souls back on land. There was a constant air of aggression and fear that made people paranoid and selfish after a while. Frank often wondered where the future would take them all. Could they go on like this perpetually? Or was something bound to give? The grey, salt-stained decks of the frigate could not sustain them forever, he thought.

  The little yacht got closer and Frank saw that they were waving a white flag. Frank saw a dark-skinned man and a stout woman. He recognised neither, but when he saw the third man his eyes went wide. Leaning over the bow on a pair of crutches was Tim Golding – the man Samuel referred to as the ‘cripple’ and the man who had tried to obliterate the fleet’s flagship.

  Frank hurried over to the rigging set up along the Kirkland’s starboard side and removed the guard stationed there. He would receive these guests himself.

  The woman attached the yacht to the rigging and secured the vessel. She then took Tim by the arm and helped him up on to the thick rope latticework. The cripple climbed up the centre with the man and woman helping him on either side. The progress was slow, laborious, but they gradually made their way towards the deck above. Frank waited to seize them the moment they stepped foot aboard.

  The woman reached the gunwale first and shoved a pair of crutches into Frank’s unsuspecting arms. “Here, mate, hold these, will you?”

  Frank spluttered but did as he was asked. The three visitors managed to tumble over the gunwale and onto the deck. Tim asked for his crutches back and Frank handed them over begrudgingly. “Excuse me,” he eventually said. “Might you state your business?”

  The woman looked at him. “My name is Anna. This is my colleague, Rene. And this man, I’m sure you know, is Tim.”

  Frank snorted. “Yes, I know a terrorist when I see one.”

  “Actually,” said Tim. “I’m more of an attempted terrorist. I never actually got to blow anything up. More’s the pity.”

  “Why have you come here? You’re a wanted man.”

  “That’s why I’m here. I’m givin
g myself up before any more innocent people are hurt.”

  “Your captain killed a nine-year-old girl,” said Anna. “So we surrender, okay? You’re all big men with great big dicks and we’re afraid of you. We’re here to bend our knee to your king.”

  “Samuel is not our king,” said Frank firmly, but he couldn’t help but think about the nine-year-old girl. “He is our captain.”

  “Some might say that a captain is a king aboard his own boat. Certainly seems like he has the power to do whatever he wants.”

  Frank said nothing. Samuel would be pleased that the cripple had given himself up. He hoped his son would show kindness to the surviving members of the pier and leave them alone. They were no longer defying him, so perhaps they could be forgiven.

  People on the aft deck spotted the newcomers and started to point and mutter. “Come with me,” said Frank. He turned to Tim. “People want your head, so best we don’t dawdle. I’ll take you to Samuel immediately.”

  As Frank ushered the three guests into the ship’s interior, he ignored the many angry glares of the crewmen. If Samuel did anything other than execute Tim, there would be outright mutiny. The men and women on the Kirkland were bored and lost. When they were given a villain to collectively hate, they did so with gusto. Tim could have been guilty of no more than killing a spider and the inhabitants of the frigate would still want his blood. Frank couldn’t help but sigh with relief when they reached the captain’s chambers. He was less happy to find petty officer Dunn standing guard at the door.

  “Wow, Frank, where did you find these three? The very man that Samuel is looking for and you bring him right to his chambers. Not bad.”

  Frank nodded. “They have come to surrender, and you would do well to refer to Samuel as ‘captain.’”

  “Of course. Shall I tell him you’re here?”

  Frank shoved the man aside. “I don’t need you to announce me. Samuel is my son.” He took the guests inside and was aggravated when Dunn followed.

  Samuel stood up immediately when he saw Tim. “You!” he said in a tone that could have crumbled concrete.

  Tim hobbled forward on his crutches. “I heard you were looking for me. What seems to be the trouble?”

  Samuel smashed his fist down on the table. “You know the trouble. You tried to kill me.”

  “Oh, that. Yeah. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to let bygones be bygones, would you? I did fail after all.”

  Samuel snarled.

  Frank introduced the man and woman. “Samuel, this is Anna and Rene from the pier. They have surrendered Tim in order to secure a truce.”

  “Nice to be here,” said Tim. “I’ve missed your smile captain.”

  Samuel turned his frown into a predatory smirk and examined the woman standing before him. “She’d like to secure a truce, would she?”

  “Yes, she would,” said the woman irritably.

  Samuel laughed. “You seem bitter, miss. Does friendship not taste sweet to you? Would you prefer enmity?”

  “I would prefer that you hadn’t killed a bunch of innocent people, but that’s the past now. I’m only hoping to protect those of us still left. We want no part in your quarrel with this man. You wanted him, you got him. Now leave the pier in peace.”

  “I won’t fight you,” said Tim. “I’ll admit to what I did. Just leave these people alone. They’ve done nothing.”

  Frank caught Samuel’s eye and nodded. There was no reason to take issue with the people on the pier. They had suffered enough for helping the cripple. Now that they had handed him over there was no harm done.

  “I disagree,” said Samuel. He looked down at his desk and shook his head slowly. His hands clenched into fists. “What would my people think of me if I allowed our enemies mercy? They would become frightened and weak. They must know that I will protect them from any threat. The people on this pier harboured a terrorist, a man who sought to end me. What is to say they will not hatch some future plot against us?”

  “We will not,” said Rene. The man had a Nigerian accent and a peculiar way of talking, almost like his words were precious and he used them only sparingly. “We want only peace.”

  Samuel eyeballed the man like he was some strange species. “You’re a long way from home. Nigerian?”

  The man blinked. “The pier is my home.”

  “I understand. The Kirkland is my home. The man standing beside you tried to blow it up. Should I just ignore that?”

  “Yes. As we will ignore that you blew up our home. You are guilty of a crime this man only tried to commit. You are a bad man, which is why we are here to beg for peace. Take your boats and go.”

  “Do not demand anything of me,” shouted Samuel. He glanced at Dunn. “Lieutenant Dunn, these people are now prisoners of the fleet. Lock them up until I decide sentencing.”

  Dunn smiled and nodded. “Yes, Captain.”

  Frank balked. Not only had Samuel promoted a wretch like Dunn to Lieutenant, he had also imprisoned two people seeking mercy. “Samuel, I would plead you to think about this. A show of mercy can be as powerful as a punishment. We hit the pier and caused them heavy casualties. There is nothing to be gained by further action.”

  “Please, sir,” said Rene. “We are just ordinary people. We do not wish to fight you.”

  “You’ll have no choice,” said Dunn. “You’re going to be in a cell.”

  “Are you so afraid of rumours and stories that you would punish innocent people?” Anna, spat.

  Samuel glared at her. “I have no idea what you mean. You are my enemy. That is all.”

  Anna smirked. “No, it’s more than that. You don’t want the men and women of your precious fleet to find out that you caused the apocalypse. You’re the devil.”

  Samuel growled like a wolf. He marched around the side of his desk and backhanded her. She fell backwards but Dunn caught her in his arms, making sure to get a good grope of her breasts as he did so.

  Like the jaws of a snapping alligator, Rene grabbed Samuel around the neck and got behind him. The chokehold was so tight that Samuel’s pale face immediately went purple. He reached out to Frank and pleaded. Frank took a step forward to help, but Dunn beat him to it. The officer leapt forward and smashed Rene in the back of his skull with the grip of a rigging knife he pulled from his belt. Samuel broke free of the chokehold, gasping, and Rene fell to his knees in a daze.

  Samuel caught his breath and pointed to the man who had just tried to kill him. “Kill him!”

  “No,” screamed Anna. Suddenly she produced a screwdriver that had been tucked up her sleeve. Frank cursed himself for not having patted her down. He dove in front of Samuel and managed to get his arm in the way. The tip of the screwdriver buried itself in his forearm and made him yell out, but it didn’t stop him from using his elbow to smash the woman in the eye socket. She slumped to the floor, the fight taken completely out of her. The cripple raised one of his crutches as if to join the melee, but a stern look from Frank was enough to put that idea to bed.

  Samuel leant back against his desk, panting. He pointed at Rene again. “I said kill him. Kill him now!”

  Anna crawled along the floor and let out a scream as Dunn stood over the man and quickly slit his neck open from ear to ear.

  Samuel was grinning. “Now take the other two away. I’ll deal with them later.”

  Anna screamed all the way as Dunn dragged her out of the room and towards the brig. Frank stood there in shock, wondering how much longer he could convince himself that Samuel was a good man. Rene’s blood spread out beneath him in a bright red puddle.

  “Oh, and Frank?” said Samuel.

  “Yes, Samuel?”

  “If you ever disobey my orders again, it will be you bleeding on the floors of my chambers. And I would have you call me ‘captain’ or ‘sir’ from now on. Do you understand?”

  Frank nodded. “Yes…sir.”

  “I didn’t come this far just to be undermined by the man who raised me. Years of planning have g
one into this and I cannot afford to let anything in my way.”

  Frank cleared his throat, but found a lump stuck there. “Years of planning? What do you mean?”

  Samuel smirked and shook his head. “I think you know what I mean, Frank. Now, leave my sight.”

  Frank slunk away with tears in his eyes, trying to process what he had just heard. Years of planning…

  My son is a monster.

  But he is still my son. Although now I must call him ‘sir’.

  HUGO

  Letting the strangers take his boat had been a grave mistake. At first, being at the pier was a wonderful experience. Hugo had leant besides the railing and watched as his daughters played chase with an excitable Houdini. It was just the way things were meant to be, and for a while it felt like the right decision, but during that time the dead had continued lining up at the gate. Now there were dozens and dozens of them, moaning and rattling at the bars. I can already see the gate weakening. Every hour its hinges loosen more.

  The people still at the pier – Bob, Samantha, and Jim – were worried also; he could see it in their faces. When night had arrived, the dead seemed to become even more menacing. They became a shifting, moaning shadow – a single entity rather than a collection of individual bodies.

  “We can’t wait for the others,” said Samantha. “We’re going to have to gather whatever supplies we can and climb down the side of the pier to the beach.”

  “The dead are on the beach, too,” said old man Bob. “A dozen of them appeared a couple hours ago.”

  “We can deal with them,” Samantha said. “But we have no hope against the hundreds in the village. We have to go soon.”

  Hugo glanced at his daughters, playing at the side of the pier. Both of them fussed at Houdini and acted as though all was fine, but he knew better – he was their father. The girls were frightened, but it was they who insisted coming aboard the pier. They would not voice their discontent now. My girls are proud and brave.

  “We’re screwed,” Jimmy fretted. “We’re like hamsters up a butthole.”