Hellspawn (Book 2): Hellspawn Odyssey

by Ricky Fleet

  “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.

  “Even if they all stood in line for us, which they won’t, we can’t possibly get them all before they get us,” Sarah agreed.

  Kurt was at a loss, they had heavy machines to use but the sheer numbers made it suicide. Another zombie stumbled from the cave mouth and fell to the ground in a puff of stone dust.

  “I have an idea, it’s a long shot but it may be our only chance,” Kurt told the others who had all gathered round.

  “Let’s have it,” John urged.

  “You see those pillars of stone?” Kurt pointed at the support columns that had been installed at the entrances. “They are designed to hold the hard cap, the layer of solid rock that sits on the mineable stone. The miners would take away the layers below it and form them into square blocks for building. If we could take out those pillars, the entrance may collapse.”

  They all looked puzzled. “How does that help us though?” Gloria questioned, voicing their concern.

  “I have to pull them deep into the caverns, when they follow me you bring the whole section down,” Kurt answered.

  “Dad, no!” Sam cried and hugged him. Sarah held her hand to her mouth, biting down to stop the tears.

  “Whoa, hold on! I don’t intend to stay in there, I’m not crazy. There is a shaft at the back that descends to the lower mine and comes out on the next road down, I will head for that and meet you there,” Kurt explained, showing them the staggered roads in the distance.

  “You bastard!” Sarah slapped him playfully.

  “Hey, you didn’t let me finish!” Kurt pulled her close.

  “Kurt, how can you actually get up to our level, from what I can see the next is about fifteen feet lower than this one,” John surmised.

  “We will have to find some rope, or I will have to run right round until I get to the ramp for this road.” Kurt shrugged. There were so many variables, so many things that could go awry and he just wanted to get it done. Fate would decide the outcome.

  “Don’t be stupid, we can do better than that,” John said, the hated tone coming through. “We plan it step by step. It’s not as if we are in a rush. The first problem is how do you even get out and past them so they follow you?”

  “We could always make a commotion and that would clear the rear of the building, you could use the fire escape over there.” Sam nodded at the clearly marked door that Kurt had missed, it would lead down to the ground and he could skirt the zombies before they gave chase.

  “Great idea, Sam. Next, when you get in there, how do you know the shaft hasn’t been blocked up?” John asked and there was no easy answer.

  “Then I really will be trapped. We have to take the chance though,” Kurt said, resolute. John closed his eyes in frustration and knew that his son was right. They didn’t want to end up like the lost souls that took their own lives in this tomb.

  “Ok, what if bringing down one of them isn’t enough? Braiden how fast does the dozer move?” John asked.

  “They aren’t quick, I can probably destroy one, but if I’m seen they could be on me before I get the other pillar,” he admitted. That one time, while joyriding in the machine, he had tried to push it but it had barely reached the speed of a slow jog.

  “I don’t like this, there must be another way,” John grumbled.

  “I could always drive the digger,” Peter suggested and John looked at him.

  “Do you know how?” John asked suspiciously.

  “Kind of, I used a smaller version to dig the foundations for our garden wall. It’s just getting used to the levers again,” Peter said, sure of himself. “There’s nothing stopping me getting behind the wheel in the garage area and trying it. If both Braiden and I hit two separate supports, the chances of it collapsing are that much greater.”

  “Dad, what choice do we have?” Kurt questioned, but John knew there were very few.

  “I just don’t like it, why don’t we use the distraction to lure them away from the roller doors and we try crushing a few? The cabs are high enough that Peter and Braiden will be clear of danger as long as they keep moving,” John suggested, he wanted to thin the numbers a little before they tried to pancake the remaining zombies.

  “Won’t their weight just cause them to stall?” Sam asked.

  “How do you mean, mate?” Kurt replied, unsure if he was talking about the machines.

  “I remember you mentioning before that we couldn’t drive through the zombies, that if you get enough blocking the way the van couldn’t push through their combined weight,” Sam explained.

  “We won’t have that trouble; the power of these machines will roll right over them,” Braiden told his brother. He had loved all things mechanical as he was growing up and knew the capabilities of the metal behemoths.

  “If we use the windows to entice them over and to spread them out a bit, then when the doors are clear we begin the mayhem,” Peter laughed sickly, going pale. He was terrified of the task at hand but he owed it to his new friends to brave the horde.

  “Ok, when do we do this?” Gloria asked, checking her watch. It was only mid-afternoon. They still had about four hours of daylight before the night fell.

  “We will be cutting it close, if anything goes wrong and we end up on the road in the dark, we will be in real trouble.”

  “Right, we do it at first light. We use the time to check the equipment, and you two,” Kurt looked at Braiden and Peter, “You practice with the controls.”

  Activity resumed and the doors were thrown open, the shrill cries of Debbie were heard again. The desk was dragged clear and she came stumbling through the unblocked door, sweating profusely from the battering she had given the door. Her knuckles were bloodied and they could see spots of it on the fitted door sign. Kurt grabbed her, pinning her against the wall.

  “Are you going to play nice, or do I lock you in a cupboard?” Kurt held his face inches from hers. Her feeling of isolation was compounded by the drumming coming from the door at the bottom of the stairs, a single inch of metal separating the dead from her tender body.

  “I’m sorry, please don’t do that,” she said softly, contrition in her voice. How long it would last they had no idea.

  “Come here.” Kurt pulled her to a chair and pushed her into it. She was expecting more violence but he walked off, took the small first aid kit from his bag and returned. He dabbed at the torn knuckles with antibacterial wipes, removing the blood and passing her a small bandage. “Wrap this around it.”

  “Thanks,” she said as the group moved off. She quickly bound it around each hand before taping the ends down to hold it in place, then rushed after the others.

  Their decision to postpone the mission was further validated by the fact it took over an hour to find the keys to the two mining appliances. They were tucked away in the back of a desk drawer that seemed to have nothing to do with the maintenance of the machines. If it had taken much longer they would have given up and tried their hand at hotwiring the vehicles. Braiden and Peter mounted up and the dry atmosphere of the workshop had kept the contacts and wiring free of moisture. The engines coughed into life and the high set exhaust pipes belched out black smoke, the rain covers flapping madly. Standing well clear of the tonnes of poorly controlled metal, the others watched as the two wrestled with the controls. Braiden was a lot quicker in remembering the functions of the levers, moving forwards and backwards as well as utilising the blade, twisting and raising it. The throttle increased and decreased as he adjusted the power, getting a feeling for the yellow dozer.

  “What about the exhaust fumes?” Sarah shouted over the din of the engines.

  “The workshop is huge; we should be ok for a little while. If anyone starts to feel tired, just yell,” Kurt answered, sniffing the air and smelling the burned diesel.

  Peter was taking more time, the excavator had many more levers and functions.
The movement was fine as he rolled forwards and backwards and gave them a smiling thumbs up. The success was short lived. The digging buckets were flying all over the place, clattering against the tool chests and surrounding work benches. His smiled faded and was replaced with a look of concentration. They chuckled and laughed at the wildly flailing arms; he saw them and shook his head in apology. It was their turn to return the thumbs up in support. In less than ten minutes he was reasonably competent and would probably not kill them all when he next climbed behind the wheel. He stopped the engine and climbed down.

  “Sorry, that was tough,” he apologised again.

  “You did great,” Paige complimented him and they all agreed.

  “Took you about fifteen minutes to master it, I’d say that was a bloody good effort,” added John.

  “I don’t know about master, but I should be able to smash that stone pillar.” He grinned.

  They searched the small kitchenette and found no food, but plenty of powdered milk sachets, coffee granules, and Typhoo teabags.

  “Oh my God, I would kill for a cuppa, even one with awful powdered milk,” John pined for the warm liquid.

  “Let’s take it up. I’m sure we can heat some water. I will boil it on the engine of the digger if I need to,” Peter volunteered and John clapped him on the back.

  “Bless you, lad,” John thanked him, grinning.

  They blocked the upper office doorway completely. The heaviest obstacles were laid side by side to stop anything getting through. The thin staircase would not allow any real pressure to be brought to bear by the dead should they gain entry. With a metal waste basket and a champagne bucket they had found in the director’s office, they were able to light a small fire by an open window and boil water. The hot brews were most welcome after the chill of the workshop and they bedded down for the night. Even Debbie joined them, some of her obnoxious attitude had departed and they could only hope it would last.

  **********

  “Braiden, are you awake?” whispered Sam quietly so that he didn’t disturb the others.

  “Yeah. Can’t get to sleep anyway. Too psyched for tomorrow,” he answered.

  “Can I ask you something? It’s a bit weird,” Sam said, trying to think of the best way to word it without sounding too childish.

  “Boys, you need to get some sleep, we have a busy day tomorrow. It’s going to be dangerous enough without you both being tired,” Gloria said, rising from her modest bed of chair cushions.

  “Sorry, I just can’t get to sleep. I’m a bit nervous about tomorrow,” explained Braiden, which wasn’t a complete lie. He wasn’t worried for himself, only the chance that he might lose someone close to him if anything went wrong.

  “Ok. Let me make you some hot cocoa, there were plenty of sachets left over from earlier. I will be back in a jiffy,” she said.

  “No, it’s ok. Don’t worry, you need your sleep too,” Sam apologised, feeling guilty that he had woken her in the dead of night.

  “Nonsense. It will take me five minutes and then, hopefully, we can get you two to get some rest. We need our fighting men strong,” she declared. Standing up, she carefully lifted the tray that had all the leftover drink packets and stepped over the other sleeping figures.

  “Thanks, Miss, you’re the best,” Braiden said graciously. He still couldn’t bring himself to call her Gloria. He had tried on occasion, but the entrenched teacher and student relationship was still foremost in his mind. He also thought it showed more respect which was a thought he would have never countenanced before the horror.

  “Be right back,” she replied, gently rubbing his head as she moved past.

  Honey took the opportunity and followed, seeking a far corner to relieve herself. The spark of a lighter flashed in the offices and then dulled as the small flames in the bin took hold, warming the water through.

  “What did you want to ask, bro?” Braiden continued now they were alone again, except for the sleeping forms of the others.

  “I don’t really know how to say it. I mean, I know the words, but I don’t want you to think I’m a pussy.” Sam tried to think of the best way to articulate his problem that wouldn’t leave Braiden disappointed in him. Their new brotherly bond was sacrosanct and Sam suddenly wished he’d just kept his mouth shut.

  “It’s about that night isn’t it?” Braiden didn’t need to be a mind reader to see it was troubling him.

  “Yeah, how did you know?” Sam asked, amazed at how in tune they were with each other.

  “I’ve seen the way you have changed. It’s like you aren’t as talkative as you used to be, before it happened,” Braiden explained. “You have tried to ask me before, but then just clammed up instead.”

  “I was going to mention it the other night too, until Dad interrupted us,” Sam replied. Braiden smiled at the word Dad, and the way he had come to use it as if Kurt was truly his father.

  “I know. You were nearly bursting.” Braiden wasn’t pushing. He waited for Sam to get to what was really bothering him.

  “I can still hear their screams when I close my eyes,” he said with barely a whisper, “I see his burnt face in the rubble, looking at me.”

  Braiden held out a hand and squeezed Sam’s arm. “So do I.”

  “What do you mean?” Sam asked with disbelief. “You are always so cool about it.”

  “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t stay with me. I can still see HP’s eyes when he realised what I had done, the way he was swallowed by the attic hole. I see it in slow motion every night,” Braiden added.

  “So it bothers you too? I remember you trying to tell me that you were a bad person and dangerous, that we should get rid of you.” Sam was dubious whether Braiden was just trying to make him feel better.

  “I thought so too, until you convinced me I wasn’t. If I was evil, then I wouldn’t wish I had never met those fuckers. That way I wouldn’t have needed to kill them, but make no mistake Sam,” Braiden gripped his hand tighter, “You did what had to be done. That’s why it was only laying there worrying that you would get hurt, that made me tell on you.”

  “So you aren’t happy about killing that fucker?” Sam asked, still feeling a bit awkward swearing in the presence of his parents.

  “I didn’t feel happy killing him, no. What I felt was justice. Payback for all the hurt that people like that do to others, just because they can. One thing you can be damned sure of, though, because of what we did, they will never hurt another family again,” Braiden stated with conviction.

  “So in a way, we are heroes. Like in the comic books, tackling Evil and fighting for Good,” Sam said with excitement. Then he thought about the ripping and screaming of the men he had killed and the grin vanished.

  “In comic books, the heroes always win. In real life, it’s normally the other way round,” Braiden replied. He had seen the misery that men could commit both before and after the outbreak. It often went unchallenged, until now.

  “I guess you’re right. Thanks, Braiden. I thought I was going to go mad,” Sam said with relief.

  “You want to know what I do when they come back to haunt me?” he asked.

  “Yeah, sure,” Sam replied with interest.

  “I picture all your faces, smiling. And I know that I have done something to protect you all,” Braiden said sincerely. The door opened and the drinks had arrived. Honey scurried through the closing gap and made herself comfortable with Peter and Paige, turning in a circle repeatedly until she finally settled.

  “Here you go, boys,” Gloria offered the two steaming cups of delicious chocolate drink to the boys. “Careful, they are hot.”

  “Thanks,” they replied in unison, blowing the frothy top to cool it a little.

  Sipping in the darkness, Sam felt as if he had released a compressing vice of guilt in his chest. The screams of pain in his mind were replaced with the resounding laughter of his new family. Sleep took him shortly after and Braiden smiled to himself at how, through all the horror, he had found such
happiness.

  Gloria lay quietly, praying for sweet dreams to take the young boys far away from all the misery. The cocoa worked, and after fifteen minutes the boys were snoring quietly, showing no signs of fear in their slumber.

  Chapter 8

  They awoke and ate, fuelling their bodies for the upcoming trial. Braiden took Peter to one side, huddling and psyching him up.

  “We got this, follow my lead. The dozer will be slower than your digger, so I want you to cover my back, crush any that look like they are going to be able to catch up. I don’t know if they can climb, but the maintenance steps could give them a chance.” Braiden held Peters gaze, feeling strange that he was instructing a grown adult and even stranger that the adult was riveted.

  “Right, got it. I won’t let you down.” Peter was nodding furiously, getting himself in the zone.

  “I know you won’t, you are a part of us now,” Braiden said confidently.

  “Thanks, I’ve never really belonged before. Debbie wouldn’t let me see people.” Peter was humbled by the sentiment.

  “Fuck her; she is a dead weight slowing us down. I’m amazed she hasn’t been killed or got us killed yet,” Braiden fumed, shooting a hateful glare at the pathetic creature.

  “I know, but I’m all she had. She was all I had too,” Peter said, regretting his life choices.

  “Now you’ve got Paige, you can forget about that horrible bitch,” Braiden stated.

  “What do you mean?” Peter asked, butterflies bouncing around in his stomach.

  “She is crazy about you. She is always looking at you and smiling when you aren’t paying attention.” Braiden grinned and they both looked over at her, she was petting the dog, showing her deep well of love. Looking up, she noticed their attention and blushed, but not before giving Peter the familiar smile. “There, see.” Braiden clapped Peter on the shoulder.

  “I don’t know what I should do, Debbie would go insane,” Peter whispered, torn between excitement and anxiety.

  “I’m fifteen, how the hell should I know?” Braiden exclaimed with a wide grin. “Let’s do this!”