Hellspawn (Book 2): Hellspawn Odyssey

by Ricky Fleet

  “Can you believe we had taken the day off to plan the wedding?” he laughed then quickly fell quiet when Debbie shot him a withering glare. It was plain to the group that the end of the world had not brought them closer together.

  “Well I think that’s romantic. Young love,” Gloria continued, sensing the atmosphere and trying her best to brighten the group.

  Sarah was concentrating on the route. They would soon be at the bend in the road that led through Emsworth, passing underneath a motorway and railway bridge before turning left at the roundabout that would take them directly towards the Barracks.

  “Shit!” she muttered upon turning the corner. Kurt came up to look through the windscreen and why she had cursed was obvious; hundreds had gathered under the concrete overpass, the road was thick with the dead. The group was lucky, the slow approach of Sarah had only revealed the front of the van to the horde and only a small handful broke away and began a leisurely stroll over for their meal.

  “So, what do we do now?” Sarah asked and looked at Kurt. John had pulled up and joined them at the driver’s door.

  “We try through Warblington or Southbourne. Warblington will be the fastest and the train gates are already broken.” John had heard the tale of their school escape.

  “Ok, we go through Warblington,” Kurt agreed and swapped seats with Sarah. John meanwhile returned to the Land Rover and turned around in the road. The small group had now grown into a tide of putrescence; the whole swarm was converging on the van, more appearing from the shadows of the dual bridges as they watched. Kurt wasted no more time and swung in a wide arc, mounting the pavement before dropping back onto the road to continue the journey.

  “Jesus, there were hundreds of them. Why were they all under the bridge?” Braiden asked. He still had a hard time speaking without coughing but it was getting better each day.

  “I don’t know, shelter maybe? I can’t see why they would need to, they’re dead.” Kurt was at a loss. They looked like the huddled penguins he had watched on the Discovery Channel, sharing heat from their bodies.

  Conversations ceased and Kurt concentrated on the task, the roads were clear apart from the occasional body or abandoned car. On small semi-rural villages like this it wasn’t a surprise. The real test would be if they needed to take a main road or motorway. Kurt prayed this wouldn’t be necessary, that the Army would provide sanctuary. The train station was ahead and the pile of electrocuted bodies had been churned up and strewn down the line from a passing train. They tried to avoid looking at the recognisable pieces, staring at the passenger platform instead, which had a lot of zombies on either side, waiting for a train that would never come. They passed the school and it was even more sinister than they remembered; the dark, empty classrooms and echoing corridors haunted Kurt’s waking thoughts, probably as a result of what he had witnessed inside. The family felt for each other, Sarah squeezed Kurt’s arm, Gloria did the same to both Sam and Braiden, unconsciously seeking reassurance from the horror of that day.

  As they reached the westward entrance to the village, the concentration of zombies increased and necessitated some careful driving to avoid the thronging masses. They passed no other signs of life, no homes were besieged and no undead were grouped like those under the bridges. They reached the roundabout and it was blocked with cars, some were burned out shells, others had flailing dead inside, safely buckled in against the crash that was now inevitable.

  “Hold on tight, I’ve got to punch through the cars!” Kurt yelled and they all braced themselves. He picked out the rear side of a Volvo that had smashed windows and moving occupants, the sound of the roaring engine was a magnet to their reaching arms. He prayed the engine would survive the impact and was thrown painfully at his air bag when metal met metal in a rending shriek. The Volvo was sent spinning and the dead were spared any serious injury by their vehicle’s top notch safety. The van shuddered and stalled. No smoke issued from the bonnet, but there could be oil pouring from a split gasket which he didn’t dare risk checking. Turning the key, the engine cranked but refused to fire.

  “Fantastic, you’ve just got us killed!” Debbie shouted at Peter, still seeking to make him feel useless. Kurt had to begrudgingly agree with her. They had entrusted him with their lives and he had failed. The dead were filtering through the available gaps in the traffic, seeking the warm pulsing meat of the stranded survivors.

  “Sorry.” Was all he could say, the doomed expedition would soon be at a horrific end. The sound of a blaring horn made Kurt look at the wing mirror. John was frantically trying to get his attention.

  “…bloody window down!” John was yelling as Kurt complied. “I will push you. Keep the handbrake off, when you hit the downward slope try bump starting it!”

  Kurt raised his hand in agreement and John revved the engine and drove at the bumper. The group felt the contact and John increased the power. Inch by inch the van rolled forward, only the displaced Volvo gave them a slim chance of survival. If there had been any other obstacles they would have ground to a halt. The undead reached the rolling convoy and started to hammer at the glass and side panels, John was totally exposed and if any of the panes on the Rover gave way they would all die screaming. The proximity of the faces and the slime of decomposition they smeared against the clean glass made Kurt gag. He was spending far too much time worrying about the spectators and missed the zombie that stepped out in front of them, a crack of head on windscreen brought him back to his senses. They had still only reached about five miles an hour and even a soft body under the wheels could stop them dead, literally. Fortunately it was rolled and broken by the undercarriage and then, subsequently crushed again by John who couldn’t see the source of the snapping and thumping. Kurt passed a hideous sight, a body stripped clean of skin, flesh and clothing, only a red muscled mess like the images from a medical journal remained. It passed by and left a bloody handprint on the glass before reaching John in the Land Rover. It drew its head back and lurched forward, connecting bare skull to the window and Kurt watched in horror as the glass imploded, covering his father. The zombie’s momentum plunged it headfirst through the opening and only the copper arm guards saved John from the virulent bite that would have meant certain undeath.

  “No!” Kurt screamed and almost put his foot on the brake which would have undone all the speed John had built up. They were so close to the decline in the road he could taste it. The blood sack was now waist deep into the vehicle and John was leaning over to the side, still accelerating and keeping them safe. Their eyes met through the mirror and it was as if time slowed down, all of the grief and arguments of the past few years melting away in an instant. John gave a smile and barely perceptible nod, the downward slope was reached, he had done all he could to give his family a fighting chance.

  “Dad, no!” Kurt pleaded, but John’s attention had shifted skyward. He twisted in the seat and got his knees against the chest of the horror, pushing it away as far as possible. Twin blasts of a shotgun punched a gaping hole in the windscreen and the skinless monstrosity’s head was blown apart, the scatter of buckshot had been only inches from John’s legs. Kurt looked back and saw that Peter and Paige had held the ladder to the roof opening for Gloria to climb, where she had then taken her shot.

  “Thank you, Gloria, oh God thank you!” Kurt shouted up at her but only able to see her legs from the angle of the driver’s seat.

  The decapitated creature fell from the window and John straightened in the seat, covered in all manner of vile fragments and liquids, yet alive. Kurt waited to get clear enough to risk a bump start on the engine. He put the van in second, turned the ignition and released the clutch which threw them all forward. The engine refused to fire.

  Rolling the window down Kurt called back, “One more try, then we abandon it!”

  “Ok, I’ll get you rolling faster again, hold on.” John replied, wiping his face of brains and other foul globules.

  The Land Rover hit them once again and coupled wi
th gravity they hit ten miles an hour rapidly. Kurt repeated the process and the engine coughed into life, roaring with the depressed accelerator and lurching forward, leaving the gathered swarm in their wake. John met their speed and leaned out of the broken window to see, the cobwebbed windscreen more dangerous than the air that whipped his face, causing his eyes to water. How dogs enjoyed this he couldn’t fathom. They reached the turn for the Barracks and drove into the tree lined avenue, fields lay on either side with a deep drainage ditch between them and the road. They were safe for now and pulled up next to one another with engines idling and spoke through the windows.

  “Are you ok?” Kurt’s heart was racing. They had come close so many times.

  “Yeah, Sam’s idea saved my life, look at that.” John held his arm out to them and they could see the indentations of teeth on the copper band. Sam stuck his head through from the back and smiled, overwhelmed that he had inadvertently saved his grandfather. “You are a star, mate.” He winked at his grandson. Sam blushed and sat down in the back once more.

  “So we are just going to drive right up to the gate if we can, the army should have been able to hold them off with their hardware,” Kurt assumed logically.

  “And if they haven’t?” John left the question in the air, Kurt didn’t want to countenance the possibility they would have to stay on the road and try and reach Chichester.

  “Are we just going to sit here all day? We nearly died once already!” Debbie complained and Kurt just ignored her.

  “Shh, we are nearly safe. It’s just down this road,” Peter said.

  “Don’t you shush me, I-” she started to lay into Peter again.

  “Thanks, Pete. Sorry for the near miss back there,” Kurt cut her off mid-sentence and glared at her in the rear view mirror. “Let’s go.”

  They moved off and John fell in behind again, driving carefully, though it wasn’t necessary. Any zombies they passed were trapped in the boggy ditch, sunk to the waist and gradually melting with the flowing water. They managed to get within half a mile of the guarded front gate before the abandoned cars choked the road solid and proved impassable. Kurt opened the door and stood on the step to get a better vantage point. He didn’t have the words, he simply froze and stared.

  “What can you see?” Sarah asked, concerned at the look on his face.

  “I’m afraid it’s not good,” Gloria said after looking out through the top of the van.

  “Well that’s just great!” Debbie huffed and crossed her arms, sulking again.

  “What is it, Kurt?” Peter tried to get him to speak. Gloria just looked down at the group with fear in her eyes.

  “We can’t get through,” Kurt said quietly.

  “That’s ok, we can just take our stuff and walk around the cars,” Peter replied with a grin, not understanding what Kurt was trying to convey.

  In the distance the cars gave way to an open area that ran alongside a deep river that filled and emptied with the tides of the Solent. The guardhouse was situated on this side with a bridge that then crossed the river to the Army complex. The gates were broken and hanging from the hinges, the bridge was filled with the dead, as was the whole area surrounding it. Tens of thousands of the zombies were trying to reach the small island, but were prevented by four Viking armoured personnel carriers parked at the other side of the bridge, side by side. Soldiers stationed on the heavily armed vehicles were carefully patrolling, keeping a close eye on the masses of cadavers but not engaging, their rifles slung on their shoulders. Two more sat within the rotating turrets, cradling mounted Browning heavy machine guns. Large holes were littered around the entrance area where the initial attack had been met with lethal resistance and Kurt could see arms reaching from the artillery craters, forever trapped in their unfilled graves.

  “Impossible, there are thousands of them,” Kurt explained and Peter looked crestfallen.

  “Oh, ok,” he answered, seeing the all too familiar look of scorn from his fiancée.

  “Options?” John had joined them and was wiping the gore off himself with the baby wipes that Gloria had passed to him.

  “We head to Chichester I guess,” Sarah offered.

  “No, why don’t we head to the marina and see if we can get a boat?” Kurt suggested, “We could get to the island from Emsworth Harbour.”

  “I don’t like boats, they make me sick,” Debbie added.

  “I’m sure being torn apart would make you feel worse,” Braiden rasped at her, which was enough to still her tongue.

  “Does anyone know how to sail?” John asked but the group came up short, blank faces stared back at him.

  “So we need a boat with an engine. Let’s go and take a look.” Kurt pulled a three point turn in the road and John did likewise after climbing back in the Land Rover, trying to ignore the dampness of the bloodied seat he was forced to drive from.

  Chapter 3

  They followed the road back towards the main village and turned into the yacht club that was normally the preserve of local sailors and posers, those that loved the status that came with expensive yacht ownership. Rows of boats of varying sizes and ages were stowed on large dry dock storage racks but they lacked the machinery to get them down to use. The family stopped at the main entrance; looking left they could see the main clubhouse where people went for a drink and a meal after a day on the open sea. Zombies were stood around it in large numbers, which could be a sign of life within the building. At this point they could do nothing about it. There was no way to coax the dead and draw them away without blocking the main entrance, so they ignored it with regret. On the right were rows of stilted houses that had been rebuilt after a particularly bad flood had washed the previous homes away. They were quiet, only a few of the lingering dead stood in the area. None had noticed the new members who coasted their vehicles without noise towards the dock area.

  “This is as far as we go. We need to fight our way to the moored boats.” Kurt pointed. There were ten or more between the survivors and the possibility of salvation which rocked and bobbed with the lapping waves.

  “I will do no such thing, Peter. We will stay here while they clear the way,” Debbie stated. Peter ignored her and picked up a length of steel pipe that had been saved in the escape from the fire. “Peter! What the hell do you think you are doing?” her eyes blazed at him.

  “I’m helping to save our lives,” he answered without looking at her.

  “You can follow closely behind us, ok? I don’t want to leave you in here.” Kurt tried to reason with her, a tantrum now would bring a hundred more down on them from the surrounding area. Thankfully she stood, still angry but quiet for now, self-preservation more important than her temper. Peter looked at Kurt and nodded gratefully.

  “Gloria, don’t fire unless we have no other choice,” John instructed. She knew what was at stake; only if one of her loved ones was in mortal danger would she risk the noise.

  “Do we take our bug out bags and suitcases?” Sam asked as he and Braiden moved them to the rear doors.

  “No, leave them. Grab your weapons, put your safety gear on and let’s get going. Sam, can you pick a few off as they get closer? We will cover you.” Kurt stood aside as Sam readied himself, Honey stood next to him, teeth bared, growling low in her throat. They formed a circle and held their weapons, a mix of hammers, crowbars, and steel pipes plus Gloria with the loaded shotgun. The zombies were voicing their inhuman cravings; the living flesh they desired was so close they could practically taste it. Sam picked off the first with ease, but the advance of the larger group was causing him to shake with fear and adrenaline. His second shot missed, ripping a portion of the cheek away.

  “Sorry,” he said shakily and reloaded.

  “You got this, bro,” Braiden said into his ear, wielding his trademark, long shanked screwdriver.

  Sam aimed carefully and took his shot, shattering the brain on the corpse with no cheek. The rest of the group readied themselves, raising their weapons as they were sl
owly surrounded. Debbie was preparing to scream, Kurt could see it in her eyes. He would have no choice but to knock her unconscious or kill her too, the fate of his family was too important. She saw the look, realised what he was about to do, and held her hand to her mouth, stifling the urge to cry out.

  Sam had the chance of one more kill and then the remaining dead were on them. Paige missed the attention of one of the zombies while she swung her steel pipe at a second. Honey leaped and hit it in the chest, barrelling it to the ground which allowed Gloria to step forward and crush the skull with the wooden gun stock. Kurt was wrestling with another and they fell in a tangle to the gravel, sharp blackened teeth trying to close on his hammer hand. Braiden leaped on the back of the monster and rammed the sharpened point through the skull and all motion ceased as it fell dead on top of Kurt. John was being set upon by two of the creatures which held his arms and were trying to reach the softer parts of his upper biceps. Peter rushed forward and stabbed the steel bar at the faces which knocked one to the ground, giving John the chance to jam the point of his crowbar through the other’s eye. Peter stepped forward and crushed the skull of the fallen cadaver, covering the gravel with stinking blood and brain. The gore was swiftly coated by Peter’s bile and scant breakfast of dry Weetabix. He was out of the battle for now. The others formed back up to protect Debbie and Peter. They were now in the majority as the final horrid abominations came at them. Kurt had watched Honey’s heroics and tried the same tactic for the slow moving threat, swinging his boot and kicking the nearest zombie in the midriff. It collapsed to the ground and one swing from the hammer finished it. The last fell in sprays of green tinged plasma and the group surveyed the carnage. It looked like a horrific child cartoon of the sun, the group the blazing centre and the splayed out zombies the rays, red and green in the place of golden yellow.

  The whole episode had lasted a minute at most but they were all breathing as if they had sprinted uphill. It was a mixture of the exertions and the foes they had faced, otherworldly fiends whose bite would predicate a quick demise and resurrection. Honey moved between the fallen bodies and sniffed, satisfied the threat was now gone. The area was clear and the sound of the scuffle had been shielded by the racks of clean hulled vessels.