by Ricky Fleet
“Are we going to sleep upstairs?” Gloria asked, changing the subject and interrupting his reflections.
“No, this house is too vulnerable, I want us together,” Kurt replied, ignoring their black sheep who was probably settling into a comfortable bed as they spoke.
They blew out the candles, relying on the slight glow from the damped down fire in the Aga cooker. It would not penetrate the thick curtains and the home would appear abandoned to anyone passing who meant them harm. The sofas were cosy and sleep came quickly after nightfall. Kurt was pleased to see Paige lay her head on Peter’s shoulder before closing her eyes, he responded by stroking the hair from her face and over her ear. They were a much better match, but the complications it would cause with Debbie would have to be dealt with in due course. He waited for them all to drift into their dreams, carefully lifted Sarah’s head from his lap and laid her in the seat he vacated. He stalked from window to window, looking out into the night, clenching and unclenching his fist around the handle of the new machete. He wanted the mysterious attackers badly.
Chapter 6
“How clear is it?” John asked the family who were all checking for threats in the grounds of the farmhouse. The pile of zombies was the only thing that they could see and they no longer posed any danger.
“I think we are good, let’s go. We take the bridleway onto Kinsen Road, and then go round the lake that was carved out to provide water for the steam pumps at the mine,” Kurt instructed and they left the quaint farmhouse in single file, several more blankets and duvets wrapped and bound to their backpacks. They would need to try and find some sleeping bags soon, the thick covers were too bulky to carry for extended periods of time, but for now they would aid in keeping warm.
The small child zombie was still laid on the top of the pile, like a bloody decoration on a cake from the deepest corner of hell. They each paid their respects, some with a small nod, only Debbie was whistling cheerfully.
“Shut your mouth, we don’t want to draw attention to ourselves,” Kurt growled and she glared in her accustomed manner.
Honey ran on, trying to pick up a fresh scent.
“Do you think she is scouting for us?” Sam asked Kurt.
“I don’t know, mate, she may just have picked up a fox or rabbit smell,” Kurt replied. It would be a boon if she could act as an early warning system.
The short journey to the lake was uneventful; no milling zombies were in the area. The road was clear of cars at the end of the horse track and they looked in all directions, making sure they weren’t being followed by anything, or more importantly, anyone. They trekked the short distance down the country road, passing fields and small stables in which horses were once kept. The stable doors were open but there was a lack of blood, a couple of the walking dead were laid on the concrete ground.
“Look at that!” Peter said, pointing. The zombies had been knocked down and then trampled, curved hoof marks imprinted their rotten flesh and their mashed skulls leaked clotted gore.
“They fought back, what magnificent creatures.” Kurt was filled with awe. He could see the shattered locks on the timber door frames. The horses must have kicked their way out and then slain the source of their terror.
“And here’s where they got out,” Sarah said, a small patch of fence had been broken down and the splintered timber had a clump of horse hair swaying in the wind.
“I love horses. I used to have two when I was a little girl,” Paige said happily, she was overjoyed to see that they were free, hopefully roaming the countryside and staying a safe distance from any zombies.
“I once ate horse in France,” Debbie added callously.
“I love horses too. I’ve always wanted to own one,” Peter started walking by Paige’s side.
“Since when you idiot? You have never mentioned it to me,” Debbie carried on trying to provoke an argument.
“I can show you how to ride one day, if you want,” Paige offered Peter, blanking her.
“Over my dead body. Peter, get away from her,” Debbie hissed, furious at the snub.
“No, I want to talk to her. The reason I never mentioned wanting a horse is because everything was always about you, what you wanted, when you wanted it, I barely even registered. I’m not having it anymore,” Peter answered defiantly.
Debbie shrieked and launched herself at Peter, pulling his hair and trying to kick him. Peter tried to push her away and Kurt rushed back to help.
“You leave him alone!” Paige screamed and Kurt grimaced, looking around for what the ruckus would bring down on them.
“Debbie, get off me, you’ve gone crazy!” Peter shouted through the assault. Paige grabbed Debbie’s black hair and punched her in the face, catching her in the eye. She fell to the ground, clutching her rapidly swelling eye socket.
“You fucking bitch, you hit me,” Debbie ranted through the tears, she had never been subject to her own harsh treatment.
“You’re gone,” Kurt snarled at Debbie, before picking up her backpack. “Leave her there.”
“You can’t do that, you bastard!” she sobbed.
The group moved away, no longer feeling any empathy or pity for the awful creature as she cursed and wailed on the cold road. They reached the entrance for the lake, a high wooden arch made from local lumber and carved by expert carpenters to feature birds and other woodland animals. It was a picture of serenity, the surface of the lake was still, granting a beautiful mirror of the sun pierced clouds, surrounding trees, and rolling hills. They could almost believe they had imagined the whole apocalypse; majestic swans swam on the surface, craning their necks at the newcomers. Where once they would have approached, seeking a meal of bread or grain, now they paddled away. They had learned a new fear and respect for the dangers of these upright walking, food throwing oddities.
“Over there, see that wire fence?” Kurt indicated the boundary of the mine, “That’s where we get in. Otherwise we need to walk around to the main entrance which is another half mile.”
The swans watched the group warily, circling and hissing from the safety of the lake. It was only a walk of minutes; the lake was not natural and only contained enough water to fuel the long dismantled steam pumps and machinery. The rusted pipes still projected from the bank of the lake near the fence, but had long ago ceased to draw water. It had become a dog walking site and a hugely popular picnic area. During the summer months it was usually packed with families frolicking at the water’s edge.
“That’s the old pump house. I have taken a tour of it when Ken worked here.” Kurt crouched and pointed to the brick building just inside the fence line. “It’s now the main offices for the operation. When we are over the fence, we hug the wall and see what we see.”
He pulled at the bottom of the chain link; it was already deformed from the antics of youngsters. They would break in to explore the shafts and cave systems for dares, or to take their young ladies into the darkness for more carnal desires. Kurt smiled to himself; he had used this very spot many years ago before he met Sarah. They climbed under and ran to the wall; the building was about sixty feet long with high set windows and one rear door. It blocked the view of the main site completely, they would need to be cautious to see what threats existed. Honey was still but silent, waiting for them to move. The metallic rustle of the fence caused them to look round and Debbie was struggling to shuffle underneath, the chains catching in the back of her clothing.
“Un-fucking-believable!” Kurt groaned and hurried over as her desperate struggles to free herself caused more noise than was safe. He clutched her jumper and ripped the chain free, leaving large gaping holes in it. She stood up and faced him, surly but no longer glaring, the closed right eye had been a painful lesson in humility. Peter would not meet her gaze; he had made his decision to move on.
“Stay behind me,” Kurt directed and they moved to the corner.
He looked out across the crushed gravel covered trucking area where the stone blocks were loaded before
making its way to the required structure. The churches, cathedrals, and southern English castles had been supplied by this mine for nearly a thousand years. The loading area was the size of a football field, giving good access to the roads that spread out like arteries from the heart of the operation. The mine was originally known as Skull Rock, so named because of the projecting stone that looked like the top of a human cranium, smooth and white, surrounded by the lush emerald colouring of foliage and trees.
Land had been cleared to almost a square kilometre and the excavations had grown, the layered stone veins cut and loaded onto waiting boats for delivery by the River Lavant to Chichester Cathedral and Arundel Castle. The rock faces rose into the sky, deep caverns had been cut into the base bed and the dark openings looked like the missing teeth of the buried skull. The closest excavations were the originals, carried out by masons who had used simple tools and sweat to create square blocks that formed the walls of the most formidable fortifications known to man. The hard cap, a solid layer of rock, was held aloft by pillars of stone that had been left in strategic places, supporting the massive weight above. Kurt held out hope that the efforts of those ancient ancestors would provide a sanctuary, if they could reach the soldiers at the hospital and convince them of the safety of the high walls and towering crenulations that Arundel Castle would give.
“What do you see?” John asked from behind Kurt.
“There are only a few of the creatures. If we can make it to that road.” Kurt pointed and John leaned around to see. “We will end up near the bridge that crosses the river. Then it’s a quick run to the Beachwood Pub through Winspit Woods.”
“Good, let’s take care of those first,” John replied.
They left the cover of the brick office building and rushed as quietly as possible towards the dead. The loose stone was crunching with each step and the zombies turned as one, sensing fresh meat. Cleavers cut the air and the noises were akin to a butcher’s chopping block, severed muscle and splintered bone spreading over the ground. The contrast between the off white gravel and the putrid, dark blood was stark, a mad artist’s canvas of spattered corpse paint.
“Right, we head down that pathway, it leads us around the spiral road that follows the deeper mines, one of the branches from it takes us to the emergency entrance, in case there was ever a collapse and this way was blocked,” Kurt advised and they walked on, carefully stepping over the drenched ground.
“Come on, Honey, this way girl,” Paige encouraged the faithful hound who was stood perfectly still, staring at the pitch black opening of the nearest cavern. Suddenly she crouched low and bared her teeth, growling deeply.
“Oh my God!” Sarah shouted at the unfolding horror.
The cave mouth issued a flood of death, spewing forth like a tide of vomit from a rancid mouth. First ten, then a hundred, more and more flowed towards them.
“Run!” Kurt yelled and turned on his heels, only to be confronted by a large group that had followed them from the rear of the office. Debbie was screaming, hopping from foot to foot in her terror, knowing they were trapped between the closing jaws of eternal damnation.
“Dad, in there!” Sam shouted, making a break for the main door of the building. It was constructed of thick metal, designed to keep thieves from breaking in and stealing the expensive machinery of the mining operation. Three steel roller shuttered doors were set alongside the main entrance, behind which would be assorted tools and mechanic areas for servicing and repairs. If the door was locked they would be doomed, their last stand would be short but they would go down fighting to their last breath. Kurt grabbed the handle and pushed but it was locked tight, totally immovable.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry, I love you all,” Kurt wept. The swarm was closing fast, greedy for food that screamed. He held the short hatchet at his side, ready to hack at the approaching zombies, even though it was futile.
“Dad! Sorry, Mr T. Look!” Braiden had pulled the door wide open. In his haste Kurt hadn’t even tried both directions. He ushered the rest through the opening and felt the first grasp on the back of his life jacket. Bellowing his hatred, Kurt twisted so hard and fast it ripped the arm from the socket of the cadaver who wanted to feast, his axe cleaved the forehead and bridge of the nose before bursting forth through the upper teeth. The attacker fell and Kurt seized the chance to duck through the door, pulling it shut with an ear splitting crash in the small reception area. He slipped the deadbolt into the holes at the top and bottom. It was unlikely the Hellspawn would have the ability to open the door with the weight of putrescent flesh pressing against the other side, but Kurt wouldn’t take any chances. The frame was sturdy, solid steel and would hold for a while, if not indefinitely.
“That’s disgusting,” Debbie gasped, stepping away from Kurt. The arm was still holding him tightly, hanging from his jacket.
“Come here.” John stepped forward and pried the fingers loose, before throwing the severed limb to the ground.
They all stood in the main foyer of the mine reception, looking around and trying to calm their racing hearts. The curved desk was made of cheap melamine panel, the useless phone and computer gathered dust on the desk top and the company logo was embossed on the wall to the rear. A water chiller sat in the corner alongside a coffee machine for waiting guests. The bottle was nearly empty, but they would be able to retrieve a few litres of life giving fluid before it ran dry. Steps led up to the main offices above, a sign saying ‘Authorised Personnel Only’ was fixed to the door at the top. To the right was the entrance to some more offices and they could see the open garage area beyond through glass partitions, they surmised that these offices housed the mechanic staff and administration team.
“Where the hell did they all come from?” John asked and everyone just shrugged. It was as if they had been waiting for them.
“It doesn’t matter right now; we need to clear the building. I can’t hear anything over that ruckus outside so we will need to be careful, we won’t hear them coming,” Kurt spoke loudly, the combined hammering and moaning from a thousand cadavers was a tumultuous din that frayed their already stretched nerves.
“Stay behind me. Gloria, are you loaded?” John moved towards the stairs and she nodded, raising the gun to keep the barrels clear of the others.
“Ok, we check up there first.” Kurt ascended slowly, trying to hear any sounds from inside that were being masked, but it was useless. The clatter of the metal being struck sounded like heavy rainfall on a tin roof, the roller doors must have been under assault now too. He prayed that they would hold against the surge of zombies. He put his ear to the ‘Authorised Personnel Only’ door but it was still fruitless, he longed to scream and tell the corpses to shut the hell up, though they were unlikely to comply.
“Ready?” Kurt asked and the group prepared itself for the unknown, only Debbie remained at the bottom of the staircase, watching yet refusing to help. Gloria saw the look and rolled her eyes at Kurt, sympathising with his frustration.
The door was pushed open inch by inch, revealing the open floor plan. Cheap office partition walls separated the desks of the employees into groups of four. To the rear, about forty feet away, were the more important offices; individual spaces where the executives would sit to carry out their business. Kurt put his finger to his lips, instructing silence in the group. If the slamming door had summoned any mouldering bodies, they would have been waiting. He looked behind the door, it was clear. He walked between the desks, ignoring the signs of the lives of the staff; a personalised mug, a small calendar with cats in various humorous poses, a spilled handbag with assorted female accessories strewn across the carpeted floor. The disturbance grew the deeper they got into the office, chairs toppled over; paper had been thrown around by the passage of escaping people desperate to reach their loved ones. They checked office by office, the plush finishes belying the money that was in this lucrative business. The meeting room was likewise empty, the mugs of never finished coffee had grey mould festering wi
thin and the papers of the third quartile targets and profits felt like the obituary of the company, the worship of money was as dead as their besiegers.
John pushed open the double doors that led to the office of the director. The desk was marble topped, ridiculously expensive but loyal to the mining history of the company. A leather sofa suite surrounded a glass table that was once used for casual talks and schmoozing of potential clients by the head honcho. The potted plants were in a state of decay, brown leaves littering the floor from the lack of water.
“This is a dead place,” Sam whispered.
“Every where’s a dead place, mate. You are just spooked,” Kurt answered quietly. They were safe, nothing rotting haunted this floor.
They went back into the meeting room and seated themselves, pushing the cups away in disgust but appreciating the quality of the high backed chairs.
“What the hell do we do now?” Kurt asked, angry at himself but taking it out on his family.
“We don’t panic for starters,” John scolded him. Kurt sunk into the seat, a look of defeat passing over his face.
“How many bullets do we have?” Paige asked, looking at Gloria.
“About one hundred and ninety. Nowhere close to enough,” she answered.
“Can we just wait them out and see if they wander back into the caves?” Braiden suggested.
“I don’t think we can risk it, we can stay here tonight but our water will only last a couple more days, and our food will be gone in a week at most. Every day we spend here is less chance we can make it to the hospital,” Kurt explained.
“So we make a run for it,” Peter said, dreading the idea and hoping someone would come up with a solution.
“About the only one who would make it is Honey.” Kurt smiled, rubbing the yellow head. “We aren’t all as light on our feet.”
