Hellspawn (Book 2): Hellspawn Odyssey

by Ricky Fleet

  “They are all dead,” Kurt said, looking at them each in turn.

  “Ok, what are our options?” Sarah asked. Crying over what could have been was pointless; they needed to keep moving to find shelter.

  “There are guns all over the place up there; assault rifles, pistols and machine guns. We could really use the firepower,” Kurt explained.

  “Does anyone know how to use them?” questioned Gloria. Blank faces met her enquiry and Kurt’s Rambo act was at an end. They were untrained and would be just as likely to hurt themselves as the zombies.

  “The hospital grounds are quiet. I counted about sixty in the area. I will go and set a car alarm off from the other sewer cover, then when they leave, we can hold up inside for a while. We could use some supplies anyway, things like medicines and bandages,” Kurt told the others and took the slingshot, plus a small number of bearings, from Sam.

  “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” He hurried off.

  “Why the hell are we risking our lives for some pills?” Mike asked Debbie who smiled.

  “I know, it’s crazy. We should find a nice safe place and build our strength,” she said, fawning over him.

  “You will be grateful for the medicine if you ever get sick. We are here now, we should at least have something to show for it,” Gloria reasoned.

  In the distance a car alarm started to shrill, the sound coming to them though the iron cover. Kurt returned at a slow jog and handed the weapon back to his son.

  “I go first and make sure we are clear. Then we all take cover by the sandbags and concrete beams. If we are seen we will have to get back down here, if not, we get inside and clear the place out until we get to the pharmacy. Understood?” Kurt clarified and was about to ascend, ready for battle when Mike piped up.

  “Do I get a weapon? Or do I just use my fists?” The challenge was in his eyes. He would love to use fists and a weapon on the group, but necessity demanded cooperation for the dash into the abandoned hospital.

  Braiden shook his head, John shrugged, and Gloria looked down at the shotgun, showing she would act if necessary.

  “Ok, here.” Kurt handed over one of the hatchets. Mike weighed it and nodded, they were ready to go.

  Kurt raised the sewer lid and laid it gently to one side. The noise had been minimal and none of the remaining dead noticed. He climbed through and made a ‘come’ gesture with his finger. One by one they reached the surface and took cover behind the nearest machine gun placement. John followed up last, covering their rear in case any of the sewer zombies managed to get clear of the swirling water. He hoisted Honey carefully over one shoulder and she lay there unprotestingly as he climbed. The trapped zombie soldiers had seen the survivors from inside the vehicles, and their dull thuds as they beat against the walls of their metal coffin drew the attention of a dozen more zombies.

  “Quietly now. Get inside; we will take them the main foyer.” Kurt ushered them ahead and they pushed through the first set of double doors that led into the main hospital building.

  “Look, there’s some chain that the soldiers must have used to seal the main doors. Let’s get it back on the handles.” Mike crouched and picked up the steel links.

  “No, leave it,” Kurt said and pushed their belongings out of the kill zone.

  “Why can’t we just shut the door?” Debbie asked.

  “Their hollering and banging will bring more. We need to keep a low profile or the whole of the city will be on us,” Kurt explained and Mike dropped the chain.

  “Sam, pick as many off as you can, we will deal with the rest,” instructed John. The others positioned themselves in the shadows to the side of the doors, weapons poised to strike those that got through the main entrance.

  Sam stood in the light that reflected from the few remaining patches of polished floor that weren’t covered with dust and debris. He took a calming breath and loaded up the slingshot as the dead skirted the first sandbag wall. Their straight advance gave him a perfect target and his growing proficiency filled him with much needed confidence. The bearings glinted in the morning light before ripping through bone and brain matter. The zombies came on, crumpling to the ground as Sam destroyed them one at a time. Out of the twelve, only five made it into the hospital. The blades and hammers swished as they cut the air, erupting from the shadows and rending the dead brains.

  “Good work, everyone, let’s try and get the bodies outside.” Kurt crouched low, using the high bagged walls to shelter from the view of any passing cadaver. He took the sleeves of a young female zombie. She had only suffered a single bite wound to the neck before bleeding out. Opting to place the dead out of sight to the right of the entrance, they dragged the carcasses out quickly. Mike was waiting with the chain. He looped it round the solid handles and pointed at a heavy duty padlock that had fallen under one of the chairs. Debbie scurried over and brought it to him but Paige could see a problem.

  “Wait, where is the key?” she asked, looking around with one of the torches.

  “Who gives a shit? We need to lock the doors.” Mike fed the bar through the links and as about to snap it shut when John stopped him.

  “Wait. The second you do that we are trapped in here. Let’s see how safe we are before we lock it, ok?” he said to Mike. The temptation to lock it as a big ‘fuck you’ was hard for Mike to resist. The overriding emotion proved to be self-preservation, however, and he let it fall loose.

  “I will stay here. The second I see one of those fuckers coming for the door, I lock it,” Mike insisted, leaving the padlock in place, unlatched.

  Listening intently, they discovered that the large open space of the foyer was as quiet as the proverbial tomb. The reception desk was to the right, abandoned now, when in better times it had bustled with queries, ringing phones and tapping keyboards. Kurt wasn’t the only one to have a mild flashback at the scene; they had all used this hospital at some point in their lives. Four corridors led off to different parts of the main building, with colour coded dots stuck to the floor for people to follow to reach their destination. Two vending machines had been looted, the hinges broken and the glass doors lay open. One had contained canned soda drinks and the other assorted unhealthy treats. It had always amused Gloria that something that promoted obesity would be overlooked for the financial income it generated. Hypocrites. A few cans had split and spilled their contents on the floor. It was now a sticky puddle of differing colours, all mixed together like an artist’s palette. Honey took advantage and licked at the sweet covering, wagging her tail with pleasure.

  “Honey, leave.” Paige gently drew the dog away so that she didn’t become ill.

  “Where are all the bodies?” Braiden whispered. The walls were riddled with bullet holes and blood of both red and green was pooled around the site of the shooting.

  “They must have moved them,” Kurt said.

  “Or they moved themselves,” Braiden added which was probably closer to the truth.

  “We need to clear the wings to make sure we don’t get attacked without knowing ahead of time. They will have to break through the main doors which we would hear. I don’t want to get caught again like we did at the pub,” Kurt told the group and Mike glared at the mention of his destroyed bar.

  “I’m staying here. I want to be able to lock this up if I see any coming,” Mike said and Debbie went to his side.

  Kurt wanted to keep them separate, he could see the developing relationship and the conspiring whispers when they thought no one was looking. “Ok, if you two get in trouble, lock up and follow the dots.” Kurt handed one of the fresh bill hook machetes to Debbie for protection.

  “We do orthopaedics first, red dots,” John instructed and the rest moved off silently down the hallway, leaving Mike and Debbie alone.

  Chapter 15

  “Fucking wankers,” Mike grunted as the rest of the group disappeared from sight.

  “I know, I hate them so much,” Debbie responded.

  “You hate everyone. I need
to try and sit down somehow, my ass is killing me standing here.” He pushed her away and lowered himself carefully onto the waiting room chair, favouring the undamaged left buttock, facing the door to keep a wary eye on the entrance.

  “I don’t hate you,” she complained, hurt by his attitude. She sat down by his side without invitation.

  “Jodi has been my business partner for eight years, I can’t believe she has dropped me like a hot potato,” Mike said to himself, trying to justify his growing detachment and anger at his once friend.

  “They do that to people. Myself and Peter were happy until they showed up to ‘rescue’ us. After that, he treated me like dirt and is now fawning all over that Paige bitch!” Debbie scratched her own arm, drawing blood.

  “Didn’t you say that you wanted to kill him, that being together was a mistake?” Mike looked at her.

  A look of disorientation passed over her pinched features. “Umm, yeah I know that, it was. I hated him, he was weak. You aren’t weak.”

  “So you mean you couldn’t control him any longer, and you resent that?” Mike deduced and she looked down at the trickling blood on her forearm.

  “It’s not like that, I…” she started to protest but he had hit the nail on the head.

  Mike turned to her and lifted her arm, licking the blood clean. “Hey, I’m not judging.” He changed tact, cajoling instead of abusing, “I need strong people like you around for what’s to come. The strongest will rule this world, people like us.”

  Her eyes lit up at the thought of the power they could wield. “Do you really mean it?”

  “Of course. When we reach my brother, we will be unstoppable. He is serving time for murder and controls the prison, drugs, phones, and women. Everything,” Mike explained.

  Debbie’s mind went into overdrive. She would be at the top of the food chain, the mistress of Mike Arater. No longer vilified and abused for exercising her right to control people. The very thought was enough to make her moist and Mike wasted no time, unbuttoning her jeans and reaching within.

  **********

  The signs of damage were everywhere. Glass was broken and shell casings lay on the floor where the soldiers had encountered the Hellspawn. The group used Honey to guide the way after tying a short length of rope around her collar. They cleared the first three rooms and then cut a length of duct tape to put over the door and frame. If anything went into the rooms they had taped, they would know ahead of time and wouldn’t be surprised by an attack. The fourth room was a small examination suite and they guided Peter to the bed before he collapsed. Paige offered to stay and look after him. As they moved away they heard the sound of Paige dragging heavy furniture into place to block the door. They reached the children’s section and Honey sat down and started whining. The group saw the bloody trails that streaked the floor, running under the magnetically sealed security doors. With no electricity, the locks were no longer working and John pushed the left hand door open an inch. Honey growled and whined at the same time.

  “We need to clear it out,” John reasoned, knowing the fallen children were the hardest to deal with.

  “Dad, I can’t,” said Sam, thinking back to the mystery house and the child zombie that had nearly killed him.

  “I understand. Myself, John, and Braiden will clear it, the rest of you watch our backs,” Kurt offered. He hated the young ones too, but it needed doing despite their sensibilities.

  They pushed through and the play area was revealed that sat just inside. Sarah remembered waiting with Sam here, watching him as he played after suffering a bad knock to his head. The toys had perked him right up, and after a couple of stitches and some medicine, he had been right as rain. He had even wanted to stay and play for a while longer, much to the amusement of his parents. The door closed and ended the memory.

  Honey scratched at the door, she wanted to be with the men. From inside came the unmistakable groans of the zombie children. Quiet patters of shoes on the floor were silenced with the horrific sounds of meat being cleaved. The noises of a butcher’s chopping block carried under the doors and only Gloria didn’t cry. She was too stoic, although inside she was breaking apart. Teaching was her whole world and the suffering of children caused her to question her faith. How could God allow such heinous evil to be unleashed on the Earth? Movement at the door ended her inner dialogue and Kurt emerged, covered in green gore.

  “It’s done,” he said quietly and placed the length of tape over the door. Gloria took the roll and cut one more strip, laying it vertically on the other piece, forming a cross.

  “God protect the little children,” she prayed and made the sign of the cross. In her heart, she was struggling to justify the action.

  “Amen,” came the chorus from the rest, who had bowed their heads solemnly.

  **********

  Mike pulled his fly up and looked at Debbie who was sweaty and flushed. She smiled at him and wiped her brow. She could still feel the heat in her core and the burning sensations where he pulled her hair and raked her back with his nails. She shivered with delicious memories.

  “Why can’t we just leave right now?” Debbie asked, while straightening her bra.

  “I have to get payback, Braiden is dead before we leave,” he said with malice.

  “I don’t like it. They have guns and watch us like hawks. What if we don’t get an opportunity?” She didn’t like the odds. Hopefully she could convince him to abscond in the night.

  “Leave that to me. Tell me a bit more about yourself, you look so familiar,” he pondered, staring at her face.

  “I come from Leigh Park, the Bosmere estate. I was adopted when I was a baby after my parents gave me up,” she replied bitterly.

  “That must be it. I lived on Middle Park way, in the centre of Leigh Park. My older brother Craig is the one that got locked up,” Mike explained and her face creased in thought before her eyes opened wide with recollection.

  “Craig Arater? Wasn’t he the one that beat the man to death in the street?” she asked.

  “Yeah. The guy owed my brother money for drugs. Instead of paying up, he got mouthy and got what was coming,” he answered.

  The story had been front page news at the time. The victim had been a prolific offender and nobody mourned his passing, but the media had eulogized him, focusing on his younger years as a successful student. The mention of his later drug dealing and violent tendencies had been ignored, as was the wont of news reporting to get the most dramatic headlines. Mike had been there when it had all erupted over the drug money. When the punches had started being thrown, Mike had intervened and knocked out two of the victim’s friends who had wanted to break it up. They lay on the ground, one unconscious and the other nursing his broken jaw. After nodding his thanks to Mike, Craig had punched Aaron to death. The blows had caused a brain bleed and he died on the side of the road, in front of a crowd of gawkers. Craig was sentenced to fourteen years in prison, and Mike had taken over his drug business.

  “So why do you work behind the bar in Jodi’s pub?” asked Debbie with bewilderment.

  “It’s not Jodi’s pub. We bought it together, fifty-fifty. It’s what I used to distribute the drugs and legitimize the cash. The pub was a total failure, but Jodi never asked why we were so popular with the younger punters as long as the doors stayed open,” Mike explained.

  “And she never knew what you were doing?” she asked.

  “I think she might have known. How could we possibly make money when the only normal customers were over seventy years old and only had one drink all afternoon?”

  Debbie laughed. “What a dumb bitch.”

  Mike slapped her across the face and grabbed her around the throat. “Don’t you ever talk about Jodi like that, do you understand?”

  Unable to speak from the pressure on her throat, Debbie simply nodded. His fury barely abated with the nod. She was starting to black out and clutched at his hands, trying to free the deadly grip. Mikes arms were like iron and she would be able to
do nothing to stop him killing her. A look passed over his face and the compression eased, allowing her to take gasping breaths.

  “I’m sorry. Just don’t speak about my friend like that,” he said, then stroking her bruised face. Though his voice was calmer, his eyes were still angry and fevered. Debbie said nothing.

  **********

  Kurt and the group reached the eastern entrance to the hospital. The doors were blocked by more concrete barriers, sealing that side of the hospital. No amount of walkers could move the blockage. They checked in on Peter who was fast asleep, then returned to the main foyer to take a break before clearing the western block. Mike and Debbie looked like children who had been caught in the cookie jar, shifty and guilty looks were on their faces. Kurt was fearful for the coming hours and days and what the pair planned. After eating and resting they were left to follow the yellow dots into X-ray and the dining areas.

  “Follow the yellow brick road,” Sarah sang as they went down the corridor.

  “I guess that makes you Dorothy, Mum?” Sam joked.

  “I would say Wicked Witch of the West,” Sarah laughed, “And that’s Toto.” She pointed at Honey who grinned at the attention.

  “I’m the Scarecrow,” said Braiden, “He’s dumb too.”

  “Hey, don’t you say that. You are as smart as anyone I know,” Kurt rebuked the self-deprecation. Braiden smiled and blushed.

  “I would be the Cowardly Lion, I’m always scared,” Sam muttered.

  Kurt grabbed both boys and held them close. “Sam, you are braver than me, I would never have gone out alone in the dark to get payback. Same goes for you, Braiden. You two are the backbone of this group, we wouldn’t survive without you.”

  The boys were happy with Kurt’s confidence in them and moved low through the next doorway into the dining area. Unfinished food had gone beyond mouldy. The food had dried or had fur covering it. The smell was beyond awful. More blood had been splattered in the room and bodies were laid where they had fallen. Shattered brains were spilled over the tables and chairs from the high calibre bullets that the soldiers had used. Whatever clean-up had been put into motion had been ended before they could finish the job, as the children’s wing and the food hall attested.