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

by Fletcher, Christian

  I couldn’t see my alternative self and his voice sounded like an echo from somewhere far away. I crawled on my hands and knees through the darkness, feeling the dampness seep through my pant legs and against the palms of my hands.

  “Where are you?” I grunted. “In fact, where the hell am I?”

  I glanced upward and saw a faint blue hue with lots of little white pinpricks of light shining amongst a massed web of intercrossing black lines.

  Monotonous moans and snarling sounds came from somewhere behind me. The fog clouding my mind lifted and I knew where I was. I was on my hands and knees in the small wood back on the Island of St. Miep, crawling through a muddy patch and looking at the sky through the overhead tree branches. The undead I was supposedly distracting came after me through the trees. I could hear them but I couldn’t see them. It was too damn dark.

  I tried to stand but the mud beneath me seemed to be sucking me down, pulling me into the ground.

  I couldn’t move and the sounds of the undead increasingly grew closer.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Smith waited until Brett Wilde had led all the zombies down the dirt track and completely out of sight. He kept to the shadows, glancing up at the castle walls and decided it was safe to move. Nobody seemed to be watching the proceedings from the turrets and battlements above him. Smith moved swiftly and silently to the huge wooden gates that protected the inhabitants from the outside world.

  Reaching into the satchel around his waist, Smith pulled out the C-4 explosive. The detonators and timers were in a separate section and he set them up against the center of the castle gates. Smith set the LCD timers for five minutes and retreated away from the castle, keeping to the shadows beside the rocks. He scanned the dirt track for approaching ghouls or his accomplice.

  “Where the hell is that idiot, Wilde Man?” Smith muttered to himself.

  He wondered if his friend had run into trouble back down the track. The kid always had a knack for getting himself into scrapes but he also had an amazing ability to get himself out of those bad situations. Smith hoped this scenario was no different and they’d come out of this task relatively unscathed.

  Smith worried about Brett Wilde and at times the kid seemed to be experiencing some kind of psychotic episodes, when he’d wander around in a trance like state, muttering to himself, almost as though he was arguing with voices inside his head. Nothing was normal. Not no more and Smith realized he had to work with the hand he was dealt. Wilde was basically a good guy to have at his side, even if he was a little strange.

  Smith turned back to look at the castle gates. The timers on the explosives were probably about done. Where the hell was Wilde?

  Some zombies were also stuck in the mud around me and they thrashed their arms while trying to free themselves. I was still attempting to pull myself free from the sucking mud when I heard a deep, booming rumble that sounded as though a comet had collided with the planet. A shower of small pieces of wood splinters, leaves, and bits of branches rained down from the trees above.

  I tasted sand in my mouth along with an acrid burning stench and realized Smith had either blown up the castle or the occupants had retaliated in a big way.

  A bushy tree branch slopped over in the mud a couple of feet in front of me and I grabbed at the thick foliage. The trunk of the branch was thick and stayed in place on the mud’s surface as I hauled myself forward. My feet slopped and the mud sucked at my sneakers but I managed to drag myself free. I crawled along through the branches until I felt solid ground below the trunk.

  Moans and snarls resounded near me and I saw silhouettes of figures shuffling through the surrounding trees. I scrambled off of the fallen tree, testing the ground below was solid enough to walk across without sinking. I hurried to the nearest upright tree and crouched beside the trunk. Wet mud caused my clothes to stick close to my skin. I’d lost all sense of direction and couldn’t figure out which way to get back onto the dirt track.

  I heard the sound of an engine revving and caught sight of something moving beyond the tree line to my right. The Ford pickup truck drove steadily up the slope around twenty yards in front of me from left to right. The truck’s lights were on low and I heard voices yelling from further up the slope.

  I now knew which direction to take but I was stuck in my position with zombies all around me.

  Gunshots rang out beyond the woods from further up the track. It was all going down up there and I was trapped in the damn woods. I reached around my back and was relieved to find the handgun still wedged into my waistband. I drew the weapon, held it pointing upward and decided to move.

  I ran in a crouched stance to the nearest tree and stopped for a few seconds, listening and waiting. No approaching moans or footfalls came. The undead were disorientated and either bogged down in the mud or stumbling around between the trees. I heard them screeching wildly as they thrashed around in the sticky mud. I hurried to the next tree trunk and hunkered down.

  The sound of twigs snapping to my rear caused me to spin around. A shadow loomed from right to left and I saw the silhouette of outstretched hands clawing at the air. I stayed still and the figure stopped moving, only a few feet from my position. The figure emitted a low, throaty growl and turned slowly. I wasn’t sure if I’d been spotted and tried to keep my breathing steady and silent.

  Firing the handgun would give away my position and I knew I had to avoid the center of the wooded area where the thick mud lay. My options were extremely limited so I decided to use my firearm only as a last resort.

  The figure to the rear of me turned again in a jerky motion and trudged slowly toward the middle of the woods. I stepped away from the tree trunk and trod carefully forward. The moonlight shone through the trees and I could see the dirt track around twenty feet in front of me. All my senses told me to run and head for the road. I resisted the temptation and cautiously continued onward.

  I bypassed a couple more trees and trod through the long grass at the edge of the woods. More gunfire erupted further up the track, followed by raised voices, which caused me to freeze on the spot. I wondered what the hell was going on up there. Was I heading into another disaster zone?

  The vision of Smith mocking Pete Cousins, Marlon Keen and myself, before coldly executing the three of us flashed through my mind. Was Smith worth my assistance? I shook my head slightly. That scenario was simply my mind throwing up scenes that never actually took place and may not have even panned out that way. Smith was still my friend, whatever had happened in the past. He may have kicked ass up the slope or he may have been in trouble. Either way he probably needed my help.

  I went to take a forward step up the inclining path but instead felt a hand roughly grab the back of my hair and forcefully pull me backwards.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Smith was surprised how much devastation the explosive C-4 had caused. He hadn’t used the stuff for a long time and was a little out of touch with how potent it was. When the smoke and flying debris ceased, he realized he may have used far too much C-4 when blowing the castle gates. The gates themselves were gone and so too were half the walls surrounding the entranceway.

  Smith heard panicked screams and yells of shock and pain coming from inside the castle walls. Search lights blazed on and cut through the darkness surrounding the huge hole at the front of the fortress. Smith pressed himself firmly against the cliff face, ducking behind a jutting piece of rock to avoid detection.

  The noise of the pickup truck revving up the track caused Smith to brace himself, ready to bolt from his hiding place.

  The truck sped up the slope and into view. Lowie had the headlights on dim and Smith ran out from the rocks to meet the vehicle. The tarpaulin cover was open and the guys in the flat bed knelt up at either side. Lowie saw Smith and slowed the truck. Smith hurried around to the passenger door.

  “Where the hell is Wilde?” Smith yelled, jumping inside the cab.

  Lowie shrugged and shook his head. “I haven’t seen
him.” He glanced at the front of the castle. “Jesus, Smith, you did one hell of a job opening up those gates.”

  “Maybe it was a little overzealous,” he admitted. “Okay, hit the headlamps on high and get inside those walls.” He leaned out of the open window. “As soon as we are inside, guys, everybody open fire.” The guys in the back of the truck nodded solemnly. “Let’s go.”

  Lowie dumped his foot on the gas pedal and turned the headlights to full beam.

  I grimaced in pain as I felt the hand pull my hair, causing the skin on the back of my head to stretch backward. I twisted but the hand didn’t release its strong grip. A tall figure with long hair stood behind me and groaned. The moonlight briefly shone across a heavily scarred, pale gray face with crooked protruding teeth gnashing in frenzy.

  I kicked out and struck the figure’s shin with the toe of my sneaker. I knew it wouldn’t make any difference but the figure did stumble slightly. I still had my handgun drawn and realized I didn’t have the luxury of time on my side. More zombies stumbled from the forest and onto the dirt track.

  “Shit,” I whispered to myself.

  The figure who held my hair tried to pull me towards those snapping jaws. I really only had one option. I aimed the gun barrel at the crooked set of teeth and fired once. The figure’s head snapped backwards and the hand, at last released the tight grip on my hair.

  I didn’t even see the figure drop to the ground. I’d turned and was running up the dirt track before the zombie hit the gravel. The moans and shrieks echoed behind me and I knew the remaining undead would follow me up the track. For now, I’d have to simply concentrate on outrunning them and worry about their presence when I reached the castle walls.

  More sporadic gunfire sounded from the summit of the slope. I wondered what the hell was going on up there but I was running towards the chaos so I’d soon find out.

  My pace slowed as my breathing became heavier. I half turned and glanced behind me. The moonlight shone across the dirt track, casting a pale glow and illuminating the dozen or so shuffling corpses on my tail. I turned back and continued slugging it up the incline.

  The ground began to level out and I saw the castle towers loom above me. The big wooden gates had been obliterated, along with half of the standing front wall. Flames licked the remains of the wooden pillars and stone walls on each side of the dilapidated entranceway and a thick cloud of smoke masked the fortress interior. Christ! What the hell had Smith done? The stench of cordite and smoldering rubble hung thickly in the air and I heard sounds of gunfire blasting from inside the castle’s compound.

  Still with my Glock handgun drawn, I slowed to a walking pace as I neared the castle. I moved left into the shadows of the rock face, keeping a vigilant eye on the opening in front of me. I stopped behind a jutting rock, trying to figure out what the hell was going on inside the castle. Loud groans from the pursuing undead became louder as they negotiated their way up the slope. I couldn’t stay put. I had to make my way through the smoke and enter the castle. What lay beyond those stone walls was anybody’s guess. I could possibly be walking straight into the sniper’s or another gunman’s line of fire.

  The bedraggled crowd of zombies staggered up the hill and loomed into view. It was possible they wouldn’t see me in the shadows and stumble right on by me into the smoldering castle. My stomach churned and I felt myself bouncing on the spot, unsure of what to do next.

  “Shit,” I whispered, trying to figure out what was the best move.

  Nothing seemed to be a sure fire right cause of action and I knew whichever option I chose would work out to be the wrong one. It always did.

  “Bunch of zombies or gunfight, bunch of zombies or gunfight,” I recited over and over. I didn’t particularly want to face either scenario.

  “Screw it,” I hissed and hurried towards the haze of smoke between the crumbling castle walls.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  I held my breath as long as I could when I ran through the choking, gray smoky cloud. Sounds of chaos and confusion came from beyond the haze, shouting, coughing, erratic gunfire, heavy footsteps and people noisily rushing around.

  I wanted to see what I was getting myself into before I ran blindly into a shit storm.

  I resisted the urge to cough as I took in a large inward breath of smoke. I ducked to the right of the entranceway, moving sideways and keeping my back close to the outer wall. My eyes streamed and I retched as I crept away from the acrid cloud. I coughed into my hand, stifling the noise while my vision cleared.

  Chunks of stone and debris from the explosion littered the castle interior. Bright search lights shone from the ramparts down onto the dusty ground into the center of the compound. I saw the Ford pickup truck under the glare of the spotlights, with its lights still on and both doors wide open. A body laid slumped face downward over the side of the flat bed but I couldn’t see who it was. A skinny guy dressed in dark green combat fatigues and holding a semi automatic rifle ran a few yards in front of me, crossing the ground between the outer wall and the center of the castle. He didn’t see me and I retreated slowly into the shadows beside the outer wall.

  The smoke cleared slightly and I heard more raised voices. The language sounded Spanish and the tone was definitely hostile. I shuffled to my right to try and get a better view of what was going on near the stationary pickup truck. Two big, dark green colored trucks were parked in a row along the back wall of the castle. A line of low standing stone outbuildings stood on the opposite side of the inner compound behind the blue Ford pickup truck. Dim yellow lights shone through the small windows of the buildings, casting shadows across the foreground. A crowd of armed and green clad militia surrounded a bunch of disheveled figures, kneeling on the ground with their hands on top of their heads.

  “Oh, shit,” I muttered when I saw Smith and the rest of our little gang down on their knees, illuminated in the bright spotlights.

  Smith’s plan had obviously quickly gone to rat shit and they were now in the enemy’s hands. All bar one, who lay unmoving in the flat bed and looked as though he was either dead or close to it. I couldn’t see Shaun Swann amongst those kneeling before the front of the truck and guessed it was probably him who’d been shot up.

  The militia gang poked and prodded at the captured guys with their rifle barrels. They barked in Spanish with intense expressions on their faces. Most had long dark hair sprouting from beneath green cotton caps and their faces were partially masked by long dark beards.

  I wiped sweat from my forehead. What the hell was I supposed to do now? I was one guy with a handgun and a couple of spare magazines. How could I possibly fight this partisan army single handed? The militia seemed to be all over the place, crossing the ground in each direction and scurrying from each wall to the next, up on the gantries above.

  I noticed something moving to my left in my peripheral vision. I turned slightly and saw several figures plodding through the swirling smoke at the castle’s entrance. Shrinking further into the shadows, I aimed my handgun at the zombies passing by but they seemed more intent on gaining ground inside the compound. Around a dozen undead staggered into the castle in one solid bunch, followed by a few more stragglers in groups of two’s and three’s. Then a whole tightly packed crowd of zombies bundled across the threshold.

  I wondered where the hell they were all coming from. There seemed to be so many. Perhaps they’d seen the explosion from the village and crawled up the incline to investigate.

  The militia men didn’t spot the undead at first, I guessed with all the smoke and chaos they didn’t notice them. A guy on one of the upper level walkways cried out from above and the others on the ground quickly swung into action.

  A small section of the militia crew opened fire at the oncoming undead. Some fell but the majority of the pack continued forward into the castle grounds. I heard screams of agony as a couple of the militia went down under the undead’s relentless surge. The search lights swept away from the gang in front of the F
ord pickup truck and shone the beams onto the countless zombies emerging through the smoky haze.

  I knew if I was going to save Smith and the others I had to act immediately. The longer I waited the more likely none of us would come out of this situation alive. I’d use the chaos to my advantage for once. I moved from my position, hugging the side wall but staying in the shadows and all the while keeping a vigilant eye on the proceedings in the center of the compound.

  A few of the militia men moved forward, away from Smith and the others. They raised their weapons and fired at the onrushing zombie horde. Two guys stayed beside the prisoners, aiming their weapons downwards and yelling incessantly.

  I crouched on one knee and aimed the Glock at the nearest militia guy’s right kneecap. I held the firearm steady and allowed my breathing to slow, blocking out all the noise and sounds of pandemonium. I fired once. The round took out the guy’s leg, a couple of inches above the point I was aiming at. He squealed and went over sideways, clawing at his comrade beside him. The second guy’s eyes opened wide as he scanned the near ground for the source of the gunshot. He swung his rifle around in wild, swooping arcs. He didn’t see me and I changed my aim, raising the Glock a little so I was lined up in the center of his chest.

  I didn’t need to fire another round.

  Smith seized on his chance. He sprang up and gripped the sides of the guy’s head with both hands then twisting the man’s skull in one jerky movement. The militia man dropped to the ground and Smith scooped up his semi automatic rifle. Lowie, Freek, Tony and Dan unsteadily rose to their feet behind Smith. Lowie snatched up the injured militia man’s rifle and smacked the butt end into the guy’s face. They glanced around, obviously looking for a way out of the melee.