Hellspawn Odyssey

by Ricky Fleet

  “Can we get some ammunition and I can shoot them, it will take a while but it could work,” Sam offered, holding out the slingshot.

  “That won’t work Sam; the rubber is already showing signs of wear, look.” Gloria pointed out the drying elastic and the hairline splits that were appearing.

  “But I have a small roll of spare rubber; I could replace it when it breaks.” Sam tried to convince them of the plan.

  “We don’t have any way to actually shoot them though, the windows are set high and don’t open far enough so that people can’t fall out, they are there for light and ventilation solely. The only way we get out is through the front or rear door, or the roller doors,” John said, proud of how Sam was trying to help. The sheer number made it impossible, there must be over a thousand in the vicinity. The logistics of even killing one a minute would mean an unceasing barrage for nearly twenty hours. A mournful siren sounded from outside, wailing into the morning over the surrounding fields and hills, causing them all to jump.

  “What was that?” cried Paige.

  John checked his watch and the straightforward explanation came to him, “It’s the change of shift alarm, so that people deeper in the tunnels have a chance of hearing. That’s what drew them all here and with no food they just headed into the caverns.”

  They all sat, trying to calm their frayed nerves from the sudden noise. Kurt was holding his head in his hands and the group thought he was giving up, but in fact he was planning. Looking up at them he had a look of resolve, his eyes blazed once more.

  “Let’s clear downstairs, and then we can come up with a plan. We aren’t going to die in a fucking office,” he growled and stood, the group taking some comfort from his determination.

  They descended back to the main reception where Debbie was holding her water bottle under the dispenser, gurgling bubbles rising as the displaced water flowed.

  “Thanks,” Kurt said, snatching the bottle and spilling some of the precious liquid.

  “What the fuck do you think you are doing?” Debbie shrieked at him, clawing at the bottle which he held out of her reach.

  “You don’t help, you go thirsty and hungry. Got it?” he screamed back at her, pushing her in the chest and feeling both guilt and satisfaction when she stumbled over one of their bags. The commotion brought a more frenzied assault on the door and John pulled the ‘what did I tell you’ look at Kurt, he wasn’t helping the situation by bringing more attention to themselves. Debbie was picking herself up and Peter went to help her, but she slapped his hand away.

  “Go to your whore, you pathetic bastard, she’s the one you really care about.” Debbie glared at Paige who smiled; a challenge and an insult.

  “Do you want another black eye?” Paige asked, stepping forward. The hatred she felt for this woman was all-consuming. Her attitude, and the way she had taken joy in killing the toddler zombie, was eating at Paige.

  “Get away from me you psycho!” Debbie shouted and fled up the stairs, taking refuge in the upper floor they had just cleared.

  “Paige, would you mind staying and keeping her away from the food and water?” Kurt asked.

  “Not at all.” She smiled, brandishing the curved, razor sharp bill hook. She sat at the reception desk, and even with the grime of their recent travels she was extremely beautiful. She was a secretary once more, only heavily armed with a lethally sharp weapon.

  “This way.” Kurt motioned and pushed through the doors into the smaller office downstairs. The space was clear too. More disturbances were evident but no movement caught their eye. The massive garage and machinery area was full of dark corners and hiding places so they chose to sweep the other rooms first. The first two were small utility rooms, brooms, mops and various cleaning implements were stacked up, bottles of bleach and pine disinfectant stood in neat rows. The last door led to a small canteen area with two vending machines, one had sold chocolate and the other potato crisps. Both glass frontages were smashed, the contents looted and eaten. The debris of the feast was all over the tables in the recreation area, wrappers and crumbs scattered everywhere.

  “Wait, look.” John held them back, pointing at a vast pool of congealed blood. Bare patches of carpet showed where the gore had settled around three objects; the shape was round, two small circles close together. The blood was then spread around and footsteps marked the passage of three people from the pool.

  “It’s their bottoms. They sat against that wall and died.” Peter knew it was true, the marks were indicative of someone, or ones, trying to stand, the hand prints now obvious.

  Noise at the kitchenette door drew their attention from the vile carpet and the first zombie walked through, still covered in the dried blood that had drained from its torn wrists. Another followed and then one more, the trio of people that had slowly starved in this room, before cutting their wrists when the hunger pains became too much. They moved between the tables, grey fleshed from their blood loss, arms raised showing the clumsy incisions that had severed the arteries.

  “Dad, those poor people,” Sam said, pitying the creatures that would kill them if they were given a chance. He raised the slingshot and at such short range the bearing ripped through one side and out of the other, before punching through the thin plasterboard wall of the kitchenette and smashing some crockery or other china. Kurt took his hammer and held one at bay by the chest. She was dressed in a business suit and would have been fifty when she had died. He wondered who she had been thinking about as the blood flowed, her body starting to feel the chill of the grave as her temperature dropped. Two blows crushed her skull in and Braiden finished the other zombie, the small machete separating the head from the shoulders. It bounced off the top of a plastic table and came to rest on some Walkers crisp wrappers on the floor. The discarded packets crunched and rustled as the snapping mouth tried to bite at them, still alive. Kurt raised his boot and the bone cracked, again and again he stamped until it was just a pulpy mess.

  “Baby, enough,” Sarah pulled him away, worried at the bright red face and sweat that was pouring down his forehead.

  “Sorry,” he apologised, finally understanding the fear and rage that the two men had displayed outside the Hare and Hound as they kicked the zombie to death on the first day the dead had risen. “Peter, can you go back with Paige, there may be more around and I want us all to be in groups. Shout if you see anything.”

  Surprisingly, no one volunteered to go and keep Debbie company. To be safe, Kurt popped his head in the small kitchen alcove, but it had only been the three of them. The room contained a small metal sink, a white plastic kettle, and a microwave. It was enough for people to make a drink and warm some lunch, nothing more. Sam’s bearing had blown a cupboard door open and several cups were broken in pieces on the floor. Retrieving the steel ball, he passed it back to his son and they left the reception area for the final check on the workshop.

  The door swung open and they were greeted by the familiar smell of garages across the world, oil, diesel, grease, and metal. The tool chests contained every type of socket wrench, screwdriver, and tool that any mechanic would ever need. The group checked the inspection pits, the store rooms, and every hiding place. It was deserted and they felt safe for the first time in hours.

  “Whoa, look at that!” Sam gasped in awe, at present there was a large JCB digger and a JCB bulldozer stored in the garage. He rushed over and climbed into the cab of the bulldozer, ogling the levers and controls. Sarah laughed and Kurt smiled, happy to see their son enjoying himself again, for however short a time. Braiden took control of the other vehicle and they looked across at each other with real joy. The adults and the pet left them to their games. The steel roller doors were holding firm, the fists and heads of the zombies were not even denting the strong panels.

  Chapter 7

  “I’m really sorry about Debbie, I shouldn’t have hit her,” Paige apologised to Peter.

  “It’s ok, really. She always gets like that when she doesn’t get her own
way, I’m glad you hit her,” Peter replied, looking at the stairs just in case.

  “I just didn’t want to see you get hurt,” she explained and he blushed.

  “No one has ever looked out for me like that. I don’t have any friends now, she wouldn’t allow it,” Peter said, a dark cloud passing over his face at the memory, how she had alienated him from all of his family too. God, what a waste.

  “You have us now though,” Paige said cheerfully, and the painful memory faded in his mind.

  “Yes I do, we would have died if you hadn’t rescued us. Thank you,” Peter said with sincerity. He was so grateful to have found kind people who had stuck up for him more in the past few days than his, now ex, fiancée had done in years.

  “You are more than welcome. Kurt and his family looked after me for a while after I was attacked,” she conveyed with her own dark memories coursing through her head.

  “Oh dear, what happened?” he asked with genuine concern, putting a hand on hers.

  Paige froze, the scene playing through her mind once again. The terrified escape from the tearing, biting horrors. The hiding beside a stranger’s car, praying the monsters would not find her. The noise of her daughter crying in the back seat and the heart stopping realisation that she had forgotten her own child in her panic. The guilt eating away like an acid in her veins, yet unable to stand and go to her aid. The shrill, mortal cry of her child as it was ripped from this world. The appearance of the kind stranger who had helped her to her feet, and then… nothing.

  Tears burst from her eyes, and she vomited on the carpet, splashing some on Peter’s legs. He didn’t flinch or shy away, instead he held her hair in a bunch away from the expelled bile. He stroked her back, supporting her through the retching.

  “Are you ok?” he asked, thinking she was physically ill, but it was an emotional sickness, a blemish on her soul that would never be cleansed.

  “I can never be ok,” she cried, “You should keep away from me.” A small dam had broken inside, the acceptance of the loss of her child was about to begin.

  “Why would I want to stay away from you? You are the prettiest, kindest person I have ever met.” Peter was welling up now, he wanted to comfort this special lady, wanted to take all her pain away.

  “You don’t understand, I abandoned my baby to them, she died while I cowered behind a car,” she bawled, only managing a word at a time between gasping sobs. Peter stood her up and held her tight, feeling the reluctance to be soothed, the need to punish herself for her cowardice.

  “I am so sorry. No one can blame you for being afraid.” He stroked her hair, talking and calming her through the breakdown. Her arms slowly rose and returned the cuddle, and he was far too aware of her warmth and loving nature.

  “I blame myself every minute of every day. Her name was Lilly. She died while I lived.” Finally having voiced the name of her lost daughter, the healing could begin. Paige pulled away and looked at Peter, sensing the purity and honesty of their new friend. Why hadn’t they met before this, why couldn’t he have been the father to her child? If he had been with them, Lilly might still be alive. It was impossible for her to articulate these feelings to him, the words were held back by the belief that she deserved no happiness, only suffering to atone for her sins. The others entered the reception, seeing the contact they smiled until they caught her red eyes, her wet face and chest from the flood of tears.

  “Oh, sweetheart.” Gloria guessed the reason for the tears, passed the gun to John and went to her. Paige broke down once more and flew into her motherly arms, the tears seemingly endless.

  They stood in mourning, never knowing the child, yet feeling the deep loss as if she had been one of their own. Paige eventually settled with Gloria, the reassuring embrace helping to calm the grief. Gloria looked at them over her shoulder, happy that her concern over Paige’s mental state was unjustified. The long recovery could now begin and Gloria mouthed ‘thank you’ to the catalyst, Peter. He blushed, unaware that he had achieved the breakthrough, just happy to be cementing his place within the group.

  “Let’s go and get comfortable, we need to come up with a solution,” Kurt said and led the way, reaching the ‘Authorised Personnel Only’ door he pushed it and it wouldn’t move. It took a split second to understand that Debbie had blocked it with office equipment and the fury ignited again. He slammed into the door with his shoulder, it opened an inch and he could see the edge of the desk with heavy monitors and boxes of paper stacked on it. She appeared, looked first at her failing barricade and then looked at the hatred in Kurt’s eyes. Seeing the desk would not keep them out, she started to move the stationary and computer screens, trying to ingratiate herself.

  “Hold on, I am moving it. I just wanted to be safe,” she complained as Kurt battered against his side of the door, spilling objects on the floor.

  Kurt had cleared a gap that would allow him access and he squeezed through, catching his life vest which only fuelled his burning anger. Debbie was stepping backwards, afraid of the coming confrontation, she reached the edge of a desk and could go no further.

  “You evil whore!” Kurt growled and grabbed her around the throat, squeezing. “If we needed to get away in a hurry, we would be dead right now.” He squeezed harder, her face reddening and her thin arms beating ineffectively against his copper plated and padded forearms.

  “Kurt, don’t!” Sarah cried out and tried to pull him away from the gasping form of Debbie. John joined her, then Peter, finally the boys, and they succeeded in breaking his grip, but he still flailed to reach her.

  Debbie choked and gasped, trying to catch her stolen breaths. She tried to play the victim, crying and reaching out for the group. They just ignored her. Kurt may have overreacted, maybe not, but he was right in his accusation that her actions could have had deadly consequences for them all.

  John stepped over and helped her to her feet. “Thank you,” she rasped, mistaking the gesture for kindness. He just marched her to the door and pushed her through, before replacing the desk.

  “You bastard!” pierced through the door, her voice nearly back to normal. She hammered and tried to force it open but lacked the weight or strength. Gloria looked at John with a mildly reproachful look but understood Debbie had burned her second chances with her actions.

  “Leave her. I’ll open it in a while. She needs a taste of her own medicine,” John instructed and they moved off to the comfort of the leather suite in the Director’s office.

  “That’s good soundproofing,” Kurt commented as the Director’s door closed on the main office, silencing the banshee wail of their unwanted guest from the stairwell. He opened it, closed it, opened it again and let it swish shut, nodding his appreciation. The bemused looks on the faces of his companions caused him to laugh, “Sorry.”

  “We don’t have enough shells, we don’t have enough ball bearings, we are surrounded and the chance of us hacking our way through over a thousand hungry corpses is zero to less than zero. Any suggestions?” John asked, totally out of ideas.

  Braiden walked over to the windows and looked out upon the scene. They really were surrounded, hundreds were intent upon the tasty morsels within the building and more were leaving the caves that had been excavated. Kurt joined him, putting an arm around his shoulder while the rest of the group bounced ideas around.

  “Sorry I called you Dad, Mr T,” Braiden said with embarrassment.

  “You call me whatever you want, I am proud to call you Son,” Kurt answered with sincerity, pulling him close.

  “Ok… Dad,” Braiden tried it once more and it felt good.

  “What do you suggest then? You always come up with great ideas,” Kurt complimented the youngster.

  Zombies reached skyward, seeing their quarry. The pair watched the mayhem. The dead were drawn to the flesh like metal filings to a magnet.

  “We could always feed them Debbie,” Braiden half joked, a dark glint in his eye that Kurt caught. He couldn’t deny that he had also gi
ven the macabre option some thought. Being a self-centred bitch was not a capital offence, yet.

  “I can always make a run for it; draw them away to buy you time to escape,” Kurt suggested.

  “Over my dead body!” called Sarah, who was eavesdropping on the conversation.

  “If we don’t do something it may well come to that,” Kurt responded.

  “Can’t we just run them over with the bulldozer?” Peter suggested. “It’s heavy and the caterpillar tracks would squash them flat.”

  “A couple of problems with that,” John said, “We don’t know how to drive one and the second we open the door they will overwhelm us.”

  “Oh, sorry.” Peter looked dejected. Paige gave the back of his neck a rub.

  “Don’t be sorry, we need any and all ideas, Peter, we just have to think through them all,” John added and Kurt smiled inside, it was normally himself that was subject to the condescending tone. Hearing it directed at someone else, Kurt had to admit to himself that it was meant in a kind way, not as a means to belittle somebody. Perhaps he had been far too fast to jump to conclusions and rebel against his father’s authority. At least he may have time to make amends if they made it out of this bind.

  “I know how to drive one,” Braiden offered and looked up at Kurt.

  “What? How?” Kurt was amazed. The boy looked away, shame in his eyes.

  “I broke into a building site one night and came across a bulldozer. The keys were in the ignition. I had a play, knocked a couple of walls down, then the police caught me and I was arrested. Dad had to pay the fine and he broke two of my fingers,” he replied, shuddering with the vivid memory of the pain and the snapping noises.

  “Well that sorts one of the problems at least,” Paige said and walked over, giving Braiden a hug. She had heard from the others about the abuse the poor child had been through, it was anathema to her how someone could treat their own flesh and blood in such a horrific manner.

  “We can’t just trundle out into the open though,” John persisted, imagining the roller door rising and the swarm of rot that would pour in.