The Left Series (Book 6): Left On An Island

by Fletcher, Christian

  I didn’t wait to find out if the repulsive figure was aware of my presence. I lunged forward, stabbing the spear both handed through the zombie’s right ear. The bellowing noise immediately ceased and I withdrew my weapon, watching the ghoul fall to the ground.

  Crop plants shook close to me and the falling seeds showered my face. All my senses told me to run. Fuck trying to stay quiet, I had to move.

  I took off as fast as I could muster, bashing into and knocking over plant stems and sending dead leaves and dry seeds flying through the air. I thought I was roughly heading in the direction I’d last seen Smith aiming for. But I couldn’t be sure. The damn field seemed the same in every direction I looked.

  A snapping sound directly behind me caused me to turn my head around. I saw something moving, following my trail. I was about to face my front when I ran full pelt into something solid. The force knocked me off my feet and I crashed headlong into a cluster of crop plants. The breath was knocked out of me but I still held the spear firmly in my grasp. I heard a grunting sound and rolled over on my back, totally disorientated. A gnarled, blood stained hand reached through the tangle of broken plant stems and clawed at the sole of my right deck shoe.

  I scrabbled backwards, breaking through more crops and making a hell of a lot of noise. Dead flower petals and seeds fell in clusters over me. The surrounding crops shook and broke as unseen bodies thrashed their way closer towards me. A dirty figure with a mangled face and a lopsided grimace crawled out from beneath the knot of broken stems in front of me. The zombie’s skin was parched, looking almost mummified and it reached out one handed to try and grab me. I shuffled back a little more then rolled onto my side, digging the spear point a couple of inches into the ground. I used the spear to push myself upright and began running through the plants once again.

  I realized I’d been reasonably lucky by running straight into the ghoul and knocking it down, even though I’d fallen myself. Not getting bitten was a minor achievement but I had to get out of the fucking field for any chance of surviving until sundown.

  The zombies I’d seen in the crop field were different to the ones in the village. They’d probably been sitting dormant amongst the plants for a long time. Lost and befuddled, with no visible place to head for, the undead had simply baked in the sun while the flies feasted on their rotting flesh.

  I continued onward, taking twists and turns through the crops, away from every sound or movement I considered coming too close. My running slowed to a brisk marching pace. The crops seemed to be grabbing and pulling at me, slowing me at every step. I was beginning to think the field had no boundaries and I’d be stuck inside it for eternity.

  A sudden thought occurred to me and I stopped moving. I turned around scanning the horizon until I saw the castle turrets far in the distance, slightly above the tops of the plants. I knew the castle stood to the left of the field so I needed to head in the opposite direction to reach the other side.

  I wiped sweat from my face with my t-shirt, before turning in my desired direction and moving through the crops with renewed determination. I forced myself to keep going although my throat and mouth were dry and my arms and legs and lungs pleaded for respite.

  The crops rustled close by but I didn’t deviate from my route. I didn’t think I had the strength to fight off any more ghouls but the edge of the field was surely close.

  I stumbled in a divot and a sharp pain shot through my left ankle. I grimaced with agony but knew I had to keep going. Every step became increasingly painful but through the mesh of crops, I could make out a grass bank twenty feet ahead of me.

  The sight of the overgrown grass made me hobble a little quicker, putting every ounce of energy into bustling my way through the last thicket of plants.

  I was almost there. I could actually see the grass swaying in the breeze and almost smell the fresh scent.

  I was a couple of feet from the edge of the crop field when a hand grabbed my right arm and hauled me off balance.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  My mouth filled with dry dust and soil as I hit the ground. A fresh surge of pain rocketed up from my damaged left ankle, right up to my thigh. I tried lifting the spear to defend myself but a big hand gripped my right wrist.

  “Easy there, punchy,” Smith whispered.

  I stopped struggling and lay on the ground, spitting out dust, seeds and pieces of dry plants.

  Smith pulled me up but I nearly collapsed again, my left ankle not wanting to take the weight.

  “Hey, you okay? You look like shit. Where the hell did you get to?”

  “I’ve turned my ankle,” I groaned. “Where did I go? Where the fuck did you go?”

  “Keep your voice down,” Smith growled. “I thought you were right behind me. Anyhow, the big house compound is right over there.” He pointed away from the field and slightly behind us to our right. “But we got to get over that open ground without these dead motherfuckers spotting us, okay?”

  I nodded weakly, not ready or prepared to expel another burst of energy.

  “This damn crop field is full of them.”

  “No shit,” I sighed. “I’ve been trying to run away from them for like the last hour.”

  “Don’t exaggerate,” Smith snapped. He pointed to my ankle. “You okay to move with that bad leg?”

  “What’s the alternative?” I asked in a sarcastic tone.

  Smith shrugged and looked me humorously in the eye. “Stay right here and be eaten.”

  I nodded “I thought so.”

  Smith nodded sideways. “Just like Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid, huh?”

  I braced myself for the excruciating pain I was about to endure but a twisted ankle was a damn sight less painful than being eaten alive.

  “All right, I’m ready.”

  Smith broke cover first, leading the way out of the crop field. I hobbled behind him, cursing silently at every agonizing step. We moved into the long grass covering the inclining bank. I slipped but regained my feet. Smith thankfully dropped back and kept pace with me this time. We scoured the area around us for any signs of movement and listened intently for any sudden noises. The crops rustled and swayed around deeper in the field at a distance of around thirty feet from us.

  Even though I was hobbling and in immense pain, I figured I was still moving quicker than our undead pursuers, which provided us a little time to gain some ground. We reached the summit of the grass bank and the landscape leveled out into a flat, grassy terrain. I could see the big house in the distance to our right, surrounded by the tall, wire meshed fence. I took a glance behind and saw a few sun baked zombies stumbling out from the crop field.

  “Shit, they’re on our tail, Smith,” I grunted.

  Smith swung around but kept walking backwards to view the scene to our rear.

  “We’ve still got a few yards on them. We can make it over the fence before they reach us.”

  I wasn’t so sure. My ankle was causing me so much pain, I thought I was going to pass out. How I was going to manage to climb the damn fence, I didn’t know. I just continued to plod forward, trying not to slow Smith up too much.

  I kept my focus on the wire fence but it seemed to be moving further away from me. I was drenched in my own sweat and my lungs felt as though they were going to pack up and refuse to function any longer. My ankle felt ready to explode and falling down dead seemed a great option.

  “Keep going, kid,” Smith said, trying to invoke encouragement. “We’re nearly there.”

  I was gasping instead of breathing, every step was a nightmare. I’d had enough.

  “I can’t go on any more, Smith,” I croaked. “You go on, save yourself.”

  “Fuck you, Wilde. I ‘aint going nowhere. We’re in this together.” Smith turned his head to look at me with his stern expression firmly fixed. I’d seen that look in the past, normally when he was about to kill people. “Don’t try and bullshit me with your false hero, fucked up Hollywood movie lines, kid. I can’t do this
shit on my own. You will keep moving and you will make it to that fence line and you will get over the obstacle. Understand me?”

  I knew Smith was trying to motivate me and it kind of worked. I gritted my teeth. Grunting and snorting, I tried to ignore the pain. Smith was right. We were simply overcoming another obstacle in our way. We’d done it so many times in the past and we could do it again.

  The wire fence was now definitely moving closer with every labored step. I glanced behind and saw the dozen or so undead having difficulty scrabbling up the grassy bank. A few toppled and fell, with the long grass masking them from view.

  I turned back. The fence loomed closer. Almost there. I reached out and grasped the mesh with my left hand. I stopped hobbling and bent double, breathing heavily and watching the sweat roll off me into the grass. I clung on to the wire fence, waiting for my breathing to return to some kind of normal rate.

  “Okay, kid, we made it this far but it’ll count for shit if we don’t haul our sorry asses over the top of this wire bastard,” Smith huffed.

  I glanced up and looked at him. His face was also sweaty and he had a pained expression, as though he too was struggling in the heat.

  “Come on, we’ll make our way around to the front gates and see if we can unlock them from the outside.” Smith nodded sideways along the fence line.

  I went to protest, I needed a few moments rest but only a hoarse rasp came out from my throat. Smith grabbed my left wrist and pulled me forward. I gurgled in objection but was too weak to stop him dragging me along.

  We stopped in front of the ten feet high, double aluminum gates and saw the bolt was firmly fixed in place by a long thick chain, wrapped between each gate several lengths over. A big padlock behind the gates kept the chain in place. I glanced up and saw another chain holding the tops of the gates together. I looked down the length of the gates and a third chain was bound around the stanchions at the bottom.

  I took a glance back across the near ground and saw the zombies were making progress through the long grass. They were slow but still heading our way and gaining ground. Our advantage was being chipped away every second. I turned to study the fence and scaling it seemed like climbing Mount Everest with no equipment. My stomach churned and I nearly threw up. I felt deflated, exhausted and as though I’d been knocked down by a runaway truck. I didn’t think I couldn’t run anymore and we had no place to go. I clung to the fence to support my weight and gazed longingly at the house inside the compound.

  “Ah, fuck, Smith,” I whined. “We ‘aint never going to get in there.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Smith turned his head slowly towards me. His steely gray eyes flicked to glance over my shoulder, presumably to view the oncoming undead.

  “We are going over this damn fence, Wilde, even if I have to throw you over. We do not quit. Not for anything, got it?”

  I groaned and nodded. He was right, I wasn’t a quitter. If I was going to get tagged by the undead, I’d at least like my last actions to be attempting to escape their murderous clutches. I wasn’t simply going to lie down and let them devour me.

  “All right,” I sighed. “I’ll give it a try.”

  Smith clung on to the fence still fixing his stare on me. “We’ve gone through too much shit to let a damn fence get in our way, right, kid?”

  I gulped and nodded.

  The gates rattled and shook and I felt the wire vibrate in my hands as Smith began scaling the wire mesh, pulling himself upward and using the gaps to get a toe hold. I didn’t think I even had the strength left in my body to haul myself off the ground. I tried, grunting with exertion as I heaved my weight skyward. A fresh wave of agony pulsed through my left ankle as I tried to use my feet to lever myself off the ground.

  I couldn’t keep hold of the spear and climb so I inserted it between the wire sections and let it fall onto the gravel driveway on the other side. I was now weaponless but the only way I could possibly have carried the spear was to grip it between my teeth. Too late to even try that idea, the damn thing was now on the other side of the fence.

  Smith scaled the gates and jumped down inside the compound before I was even two feet up the wire. He stood opposite me on the other side of the fence, glaring with fury.

  “You get yourself up that fence, Wilde. I had faith in you but you turned out to be worthless. I can’t keep on saving your sorry ass,” Smith seethed.

  I knew he was trying to motivate and goad me like a military drill instructor and on a personal level it was good of him to do so. But no amount of insults could cure a physical injury and stave off total fatigue.

  I continued my slow ascent up the gate, inch by inch, just doing enough to keep climbing at a steady rate. I didn’t look back behind me. What was the point? I knew the zombies were coming but I couldn’t climb any faster. There was little strength in my arms and legs and my ankle felt as though my foot was no longer attached. Just a solid lump of torn gristle and twisted bone dangling at the end of my leg.

  Sounds of grunting and snarling drew closer and I knew the undead were nearly at the fence line. I crawled up higher until my fingers curled over the solid metal bar at the top of the gate. I hung on, knowing I had to get over. Although the fence was tall, the zombies would probably still be able to reach my legs and ankles if they raised their arms high enough.

  I pulled hard, with every ounce of strength I had left in my body, straining and snorting with the almighty effort. I hauled my upper body over the top of the gate and just let myself hang there for a few seconds.

  “Come on, Wilde,” Smith growled. “Get your skinny ass over that gate.”

  I swung both legs sideways and scrabbled my lower half over the top of the upper bar. My intention was to twist myself around and slowly climb down but I got the momentum all wrong. I didn’t have enough strength to hold on to the top bar and plummeted down to the ground. Although landing squarely on my ass wasn’t a pleasant experience, the fall worked out well for a couple of reasons. The zombies reached the fence line at about the same time as I hit the gravel driveway. They snapped their jaws through the mesh gaps and would definitely have taken a few nips out of me if I’d been climbing down. Also, I’d landed on my backside, which took the impact and saved more damage to my left ankle.

  “You okay, kid?” Smith stood over me and grabbed my arm to pull me up.

  I shrugged off his grip. “Just give me a minute,” I grunted. “I need to get my breath.”

  I sat there on the gravel for at least five minutes, waiting for some element of strength to return. I watched the zombies mass against the fence line, screaming and moaning and rattling the gates and the wire mesh. Their faces were sun burned brown and torn and the skin had started to peel from their skulls. They still had most of their teeth and they snapped at the wire strands, trying to chew their way inside the compound.

  Smith remained silent during the rest period. He plodded up and down the driveway with the ripped bathrobe billowing around him and the remaining spear gun still strapped across his back, waiting for me to rise.

  When I felt a little more human, I pushed myself up, careful not to place any weight on my left foot. Smith stood a few yards away looking at me with a strange expression.

  “You okay?”

  I nodded. “Never better. Hand me that spear down there will you?”

  Smith huffed and retrieved the spear from amongst the chunky brown gravel. He passed it to me.

  “Listen, kid, I didn’t mean to disrespect you in any way with what I said before we got over the fence. I was just trying to keep you alive.”

  “I know,” I mumbled. “And you did what you had to do.”

  Smith nodded like he was satisfied. Discussion over. We move on.

  I hobbled a few paces and the pain forced me to stop. “Can we move off this damn gravel? It’s killing me.”

  “U-huh,” Smith muttered and we slowly trod to the long grass at the left side of the driveway.

  “What’s the pl
an now?” I asked.

  “Let’s go have ourselves a house party,” Smith said, tugging the spear gun off his back and holding it at his waist like a rifle.

  We trudged through the long grass towards the front door of the big domed house and away from the groaning undead who pressed themselves against the fence line. The house looked as though some kind of giant bird had squatted in the middle of a field and laid a massive white egg. I studied the dark circular windows to see if I could spot any movement inside.

  “I hope this is going to be worth it,” I sighed.

  “It won’t be if the place is full of dead motherfuckers. We’ll really be up Shit Street if that happens.”

  I flashed Smith a sideways grimace. “Thanks for your optimistic input, Mr. Smith.”

  Smith shrugged. “Just trying to cover all the angles, kid. We got no plan B on this one.”

  “That’s funny,” I said. “I can’t ever remember having a plan B at anytime.”

  We plodded slowly across the driveway towards a gray paved stone area between the two big white lion statues.

  “They must have cost more than your average garden feature,” I muttered, poking one of the stone lions with my spear.

  Smith led the way to the wide front door. The entranceway was around five feet wide and the door was constructed of dark wooden panels. Smith reached down to a chunky, black wrought iron handle and tried turning it. The handle didn’t budge. Smith tried barging the door with his shoulder but it looked solid enough to withstand a charging rhino.

  I sighed and felt the craving for a cigarette.

  “What now?”

  Smith looked a little perturbed about the locked door and glanced around the front of the house.

  “Let’s try around back,” he said.

  “Ah, not more walking,” I groaned.

  Smith flashed me an incredulous glance. “You can stay right here if you want, Wilde Man but if we run into any trouble, you’re on your own.”

  “All right, I’ll come with you. I don’t want you pissing your woman’s nightie if you get scared.”