I rolled the idea in my mind and molded and shaped it, clipped it, cut out the rough or stupid bits and formed a plan all of my own. I sat in silence, going over the scenario I’d created, unaware of time passing. McElroy, Smith and Wingate talked amongst themselves but I was oblivious to their conversations. Smith tapped my boot from time to time and I simply pulled a face like I agreed with everything they said.
The sound of approaching footfalls broke me from my scheming trance. I glanced up at the chicken coop door and saw the light was beginning to fade. How long had we been caged in here?
Smith, McElroy and Wingate ceased their discussion when the sound of the metal bolts being pulled back echoed through the chicken coop. The door swung open and faint daylight shone through the shack, causing us all to squint.
Machete Man leaned his head inside, wrinkled his face in an expression of revulsion and wafted his hand in front of his nose. “The Boss wants to talk to you now.” He waved us towards the open door with his weapon of choice and retreated into the open air.
“This could be judgment time,” Wingate sighed as she stood up.
Smith and McElroy groaned and complained of cramp as they pulled themselves upright but still had to bow their heads below the low roof. Smith reached down and offered his hand. We clenched fists and he hauled me to my feet. I gritted my teeth as I stood, ready to go.
“Come on, Dante,” McElroy barked, waving the Columbian towards the open door. “We have to go.”
Dante pulled a pained expression and slowly shook his head. “Please, I stay here,” he wailed.
McElroy shuffled through the straw on the ground towards the far corner where Dante remained. “Come on, you wee shite, we have to go out there,” he seethed, through clenched teeth. “Get the fuck up, right fucking now, man.”
Dante made a clucking noise, which I first thought came from one of the chickens sitting on the shelf above him. He shuffled on all fours across the floor towards the door, making an animal type wailing noise. He looked like a broken man. On reflection, he’d seemed like a broken man when I first met him.
The fresh air outside the chicken coop was invigorating, even if the stench of chicken shit was still present but less stifling. Machete Man closed and bolted the door once we were all out in the open. We followed him through the shit infested compound towards the open gate, where a dozen armed men lurked, smoking cigarettes and chatting amongst themselves. They stopped their discussion and glared at us as we approached.
Machete Man ushered us through the open gate and closed it up once we were all out of the chicken compound. The gunmen surrounded us, muttering obscenities and glowering in the fading light. We were paraded back through the camp and subjected to more abuse by the local population. A couple of dogs barked at us and threatened to attack as we marched by a log cabin on our right. The owner called the dogs away and spat on the ground, while staring at us intently.
Mia and Ronda already stood in front of the restocked campfire when we threaded our way through the cabins to the front of the site. The girls were covered in animal dung and looked terrified. Moses sat in a deck chair opposite them, smiling and sipping a can of beer. The Boss was surrounded by more gunmen and I noticed a few stood on guard further down the track alongside the trucks, presumably on the lookout for any straying undead.
Our bedraggled and foul smelling party was hustled into a tight gathering a few feet in front of Moses. His smile immediately dropped from his face.
“Man, you guys stink,” he barked, wrinkling up his nose. The smile returned and followed by a loud belly laugh. The gunmen around him followed suit.
Yeah, keep on laughing, cocksucker! You won’t be laughing much longer.
“We live a very simple life here, as I guess you’ve witnessed,” Moses continued. “We lock our doors after dark and keep a watch over the camp twenty-four seven. The cabins are solid with sturdy with barricaded doors. We’re miles away from any towns or cities and nobody knows we’re here. No dead man gets in here without us seeing him first. Dead men who try and get in our camp end up in there.” He held up his beer can with a protruding index finger, pointing to the large fire behind us.
I turned and studied the glowing embers contained amongst the glowing red flames. I noticed a few human like bones poking out between the logs and some shapes that resembled human skulls. I didn’t doubt this guy in front of us was capable of throwing a living human into that roaring fire, let alone a reanimated dead one.
“Anyhow, I’ll get to the point,” Moses said, leaning back in his stripy covered deck chair. “My guys went out to that tennis club you were talking about, soldier.” He nodded at Smith. “They told me they found a whole bunch of weird stuff out there. In fact, Roddy took to filming the whole scene out there. Roddy likes his films, don’t you know?”
Moses waved the blue baseball cap wearing guy forward. Roddy emerged from the crowd with his video camera in his hands. He crouched beside Moses and opened the viewing lens on the camera.
“Hell, Roddy,” Moses cried in a high pitched tone. “You already showed me this movie. I want you to show the film to these guys right here.” He waved his hand in our direction.
Roddy shrugged and stood tall. He muttered something inaudible but it sounded like some kind of irritated protest. We shuffled closer to Roddy as he turned with his back to us and held up the camera so we could see the viewing screen a little easier. I stood directly behind Roddy, peering over his shoulder. Wingate and Smith stood each side of me, while McElroy craned his neck behind me. Dante, Mia and Ronda hung back a little and didn’t seem too interested in the images playing on the camera.
Roddy pressed play on the camera and the viewing lens flickered into life. I dreaded what images and sounds would play out on that small screen in front of me.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
The camera screen flickered with static and wavy white lines a couple of times before the image cleared. I recognized Roddy in the viewing lens, standing by the open and wrecked gates of the tennis club compound. He filmed himself then moved the camera around so the film showed the car lying on its side, the vehicle Dave Burland had driven at the gates. The slightly distorted sounds of gunfire, people yelling and moans of the undead blared from the camera.
The on screen Roddy moved the lens and filmed the driveway leading to the main tennis club complex. Islanders wielding assault rifles and handguns shot at the undead moving towards them. Zombies fell in droves as the bullets shattered their heads. The island gunmen advanced further up the driveway, passing by the tall trees and overgrown flower gardens.
The film cut out for a second and then restarted with the gunmen ransacking the clubhouse and executing more of the undead inside the building. A few of the islanders whooped and drank from the liquor bottles behind the bar counter. The film footage cut again and resumed with the island guys loading the food tins and the whole contents from the lockup onto the beds of the pickup trucks. Roddy turned the camera on himself, giving a thumbs up sign.
“Good pickings here,” he said, grinning into the camera.
One of the gunmen popped a zombie approaching the pickup trucks then fired a couple of rounds into the air in celebration. The others around him cheered his shot. The island gang seemed to have no trouble in defending themselves from the undead around them.
I wondered where all this was leading. Why was Moses letting us watch all this shit? Was he just rubbing our noses into what he’d taken or was there something more to this movie? I decided to stay on my guard. Moses wasn’t going to do us any favors.
The film cut out and restarted again. This time Roddy followed the gunmen into Dave Burland and Ralph Pinchbeck’s house.
“This is it,” Smith muttered, pointing at the screen. “This is where that fucker kept those dead kids.”
Wingate glanced at Smith with wide, disbelieving eyes. She’d seen some horrific sights in her time, no doubt but nothing could prepare her for what she was about to witness on
film.
The gunmen hustled through the corridor and found the open hatchway where Smith had kicked the door out. They talked amongst themselves before entering through the low doorway. The film footage went dark and wobbly as Roddy followed the gunmen down the staircase.
An uneasy cramp rose in my stomach as I watched the film. Maybe the feeling was a precursor of what was about to be viewed on screen or the memories of that basement were too horrific to experience again.
Flashlights and the camera light illuminated the next scene. The gunmen gasped in shock and awe, shining their flashlights around the grisly exhibits of the dead kids.
“What the fuck is this?” somebody squawked off camera.
“This is some sick assed shit,” Roddy commented, as he waved the camera across the Bugsy Malone display.
“Oh, my god,” Wingate whispered, holding her hand to her mouth. I knew she’d be shocked at what she saw.
“Yeah, you better believe it,” Roddy said, shuffling from side to side while he held the camera.
We moved in closer as the scene unfolded. Zombies lurched out from the darkness into the camera screen. We all recoiled backwards as their dead, gray faces loomed into the viewing lens. The gunmen fired their weapons, dispatching the undead in the basement. The sound of gunshots distorted the audio on film and they waited for the cordite smoke to clear before they proceeded. Voices barked in agitated tones. I knew these guys were as spooked as Smith and I had been when we were down in that god forsaken hell hole.
The video footage went shakily through the cellar and the light shone over a shredded and blood stained human body strapped to a chair. I knew it was Ralph Pinchbeck sitting there in that camera image. His jaw snapped at the air and he turned his head towards the camera. The milky white cataract eyes reflected in the camera lens. His body was chewed and mutilated and half his face was missing. He’d died a thousand times and was now one of the undead. A fitting end to such a scumbag but it didn’t help our situation.
One of the gunmen off camera fired a headshot to end Pinchbeck’s worthless life and I couldn’t say I felt any sympathy to see that fucker perish.
The film flickered again over the stainless steel operating dolly trolleys, the barrels of embalming fluid and the gruesome set of tools hanging above them. The camera panned back to Roddy.
“Sick shit, huh?” he said.
The camera buzzed off and Roddy folded away the camera lens.
“There you have it,” he said, straightening up.
I glanced down at Roddy’s hip. He had a big revolver inside a brown leather holster strapped to his waist. I edged forward closer towards him. Roddy glanced up, away from the camera in his hands to look at Moses.
“So, as you can see, guys,” Moses said. “We’ve looked over the footage several times and we can’t prove what you say is true. That guy’s face was ripped clean off but there was no sign of a big assed beard on his chin or long hair. So I’m thinking, this guy is definitely a piece of shit and worthy of torturing, I agree but he ‘aint our guy who killed my nephew.” Moses shook his head. “It’s all bullshit what you were telling me, people. Nice try but total bullshit.”
Wingate gasped and I felt Smith stumble slightly beside me. We were in deep shit. It was time to put my devious and dodgy plan into action.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
“So, now I’m thinking if you guys are spouting bullshit about this guy at the tennis club, what else are you bullshitting me about?” Moses continued.
Roddy was busy putting his camera back in the bag hanging over his shoulder. The butt of his handgun in the holster around his waist was inches from my grasp. Here we go! Moses was toying with us like a cat plays around with an injured mouse. The big verdict was coming. I wasn’t going to wait to hear it. I was going to seize the opportunity, as Smith had always taught me.
Nervous tension knotted my stomach. It was do or die. We were fucked no matter what. No amount of bullshit was going to save us. Moses had incredibly bad things planned for us. That was plain to predict.
My right hand twitched and I edged closer to Roddy. He still stood with his back to us, fiddling with the camera, placing it in the bag at his waist.
“This situation leaves me in a dilemma, people,” Moses said. He tossed the beer can over our heads and into the fire. “What the hell am I going to do with you guys? I can’t just let you walk out of here, can I? You killed a whole bunch of my guys for starters. Then there’s the killing of my nephew that I’m sure one of you guys had a hand in. On top of that there’s all the bullshit you’ve been telling me. Hell, I just don’t trust you people, period.”
Vinnie hadn’t identified me but Moses didn’t give a shit about that. He was going to kill us no matter what. It was time to make my move.
Roddy finished up messing with his camera bag and went to turn around. I took a deep breath and lunged forward, grabbing his handgun from the holster. It was a big, black metallic cannon and glistened in the fading sunlight as I ripped it from his waist and pointed the long barrel directly at Moses’ face.
I heard the sound of cocking weapons all around me and was aware I was faced with numerous loaded weapons pointed at me. I had to remain calm and not let my demeanor waver even slightly. I’d be dead if I did. I scowled and tried to put on a mean motherfucker expression.
Moses looked shocked and I couldn’t say I was disappointed by his reaction.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he gasped.
I wasn’t totally sure but I thought there were no other options.
Smith reacted like I knew he would. He shoved Roddy aside so I had a clear line of sight to Moses. I edged closer so the barrel of the gun was only a few inches from Moses’ forehead. I was aware the gunmen were crowding in closer around me. I couldn’t back down now. I’d made the move. Sweat ran down my face and my back. I gritted my teeth. I knew I had to carry on.
“You are making a big mistake, boy,” Moses whispered. His expression turned from shock to thoroughly pissed off. I couldn’t let that look intimidate me.
“I don’t think so,” I heard myself say. “You call your dogs off or you’ll get a bullet right in your fucked up head.” I glanced at the gunmen closing in on me. “You are going to tell me exactly where those SMAW launchers are.”
Moses smiled at me. The motherfucker actually laughed in my face then shook his head.
“I ‘aint going to tell you shit, boy,” he said. His expression turned from mirth to dead serious. “Now you just signed your own death warrant.”
I felt my resolve waver. My hand shook slightly, making the gun wobble in my hand. I tried to keep my poker face going but I’d kind of run out of macho things to say. Oh crap, I’d just got us all killed!
“Keep going, asshole!” my alternative self said. He stood behind the deck chair Moses sat in, leaning on the upright metal frame. He was dressed in military green combat fatigues with a blue beret on his head. “You’ve got him rattled. Don’t give up now.”
I knew I had to take back the advantage. I had to think of something gangster to say. I couldn’t unlock my glare with Moses to get Smith’s input so I glanced at my alternative self for inspiration.
He pumped his fist vigorously behind Moses’ head. “Say you’re going to wipe out his whole fucking village if he doesn’t comply or some kind of cold blooded shit.”
I nodded. For once my alternative self was helping me.
I sneered and pulled a gangster face that Smith would have been proud of. I cocked the hammer back on the big assed revolver in my hands, just for the effect. It seemed to weigh a ton but that was a good sign as I knew it was definitely loaded.
“Call off the dogs, you motherfucker or I’ll pepper your face with lead,” I growled, thrusting the barrel of the handgun a few inches from Moses’ face.
“Keep it going, man,” my alternative self cheered from behind Moses.
Moses’ expression changed slightly and I detected a flicker of fear in his eyes for
the first time. I had him spooked and right where I wanted him.
Smith and McElroy reacted, grabbing a weapon each from the guys closest to us. Moses waved his head to his right. The gunmen backed off a little. Smith and McElroy aimed the handguns at the crowd backing away from us. I kept my gaze on Moses, locking eye to eye contact. I couldn’t blink or give any sign of weakness.
“Okay, brother,” Moses said, raising his hands. “You have the advantage but this situation ‘aint going to end well for you.”
He was trying to rattle me but I couldn’t let that happen. I had to remain super cool.
“Get the fuck back,” McElroy yelled at the crowd of islanders around us.
I didn’t know if the guys in the rest of my party were compliable to my plan but they weren’t protesting. Not yet anyhow.
Smith grabbed a pistol from one of the guys around us and handed it to Wingate. I heard her sigh in exasperation but she pointed the weapon at Moses so we had a double whammy held on the guy. Moses’ eyes widened. I got the impression he couldn’t believe what was happening in front of him. He probably didn’t think we had the balls to see the situation through. I had to make certain he knew we were some serious contenders.
“Yeah, go for it, man,” my alternative self cheered.
I knew I had to move the situation on from here.
“Shut up,” I sneered at Moses. “You’ve done your talking. Now, I’m going to speak and tell you exactly how it’s going to be.”
Moses folded his arms across his chest in his deck chair. He looked at me with an expression of contempt. “You ‘aint going to tell me shit, boy. You are going to struggle to walk your sorry ass out of this place.”
I shrugged, moving my head to one side. “Well, if that happens, you’re going to die with me.” My poker face kept going even though my heart pounded and my guts were tumbling over. I had to keep the pretence going. I was a mean motherfucker and had to keep up the act. “Let me tell you, firstly, nobody killed your nephew on purpose. It was a fucking accident, okay? And if you speak to Vinnie properly, he’ll say the same.” I had to get us out of this shit and hoped we could all make it out alive. “I’m sorry about Lucas, I never knew his name but I didn’t mean to kill him. As I said, it was a total accident. So this whole thing has got way out of control. And now we have to react because you guys have taken up arms against us. You are going to listen to me.”
The Left Series (Book 7): Left Amongst The Corpses Page 30
