Bone Hunter: A Novelette in the Dark of Dawn Series

by Woolf, Sebastien

  “What the hell am I going to do with you?” he said, addressing the child through blurry eyes as if it was capable of understanding. “I cannot care for you, I cannot do anything for you. Your mother is dead, I killed her, and now there is no-one to look after you. You hear me, no-one!”

  Glancing down at the dead woman he could not help but notice that she looked quite emaciated and sick. The man thought she looked like she had been ravaged by an illness or had some sickness or poison in her system. She was simply ghastly looking.

  Fucking hell, no wonder I mistook you for a creature!

  The baby too looked ill, pale and sickly. Totally reliant on its mother’s milk for nourishment the child’s chances of survival were going to be slim with her now gone.

  What the hell happened to you two? How could you possibly feed him woman, looking like that?

  Bark!

  Jolted back to reality the man rewrapped the baby in its rags, left it to wail on the seat and then refocused his attention on surviving this current onslaught. They were now surrounded, cornered on all fronts with no chance of escape. He checked his ammunition which was minimal for he had not expected to run into such a large swarm as this. What had started out as a pleasant day, welcomed relief from a week-long storm had rapidly descended into a shit-storm of epic proportions.

  He thought about running for it but quickly gave that idea away when he saw that the creatures had now gotten five to six deep around the tram. A couple of rows were easy enough to push through, but at this density his momentum would not be enough to carry him through.

  Think God-damnit man, think!

  Experience had taught him to be prepared no matter what, abiding by the Boy Scout motto he had learned when he was younger. It had stuck with him all his life right through until the world turned, right up to this very point in time.

  Reaching inside his backpack he withdrew a medium size steel box, rusted and grey with the word ARMY stamped on it in big bold white lettering. Sliding the lid open the man carefully took out two hand grenades and placed them gently on the seat in front of him, this was the very situation he had kept them for. He knew what he had to do, it was his only hope against the hundreds of creatures swarming toward their position. Now totally surrounding the tram they blocked every possible exit for man, beast and child.

  With an almighty bang the first grenade went off some twenty feet from their location, the blast radius inflicting massive damage on every creature unfortunate enough to be caught in the explosion. Rising from his position of cover over the infant child the man tossed the second grenade through the open window, grabbed everything in readiness and waited. The second blast rocked the tram from side to side, shattered glass and caused massive chaos.

  Grasping the dead woman by the arm he dragged her body out from the stairwell, flung the door open and made a run for it. Clutching at the bundle of rags which held the baby tight, he hurdled dismembered body parts and piles of red goo, bolting for the open spaces beyond the swarm. The explosions had torn through life and limb, creating just enough of a hole for an escape, but it was a very close call.

  As the remaining creatures turned to slowly take up pursuit, the sound of the baby wailing like a Police siren faded fast as it disappeared into the distance.

  6

  Ashes in the Night

  Later that evening the man sat alone consumed by thought, chewing at the rabbit stew he had just cooked on the gas burner. It had a strong gamey taste to it, tough and stringy. Adding freshly picked rosemary made the meal somewhat bearable, but it was food and he honestly cared little for the flavor.

  Washed his dishes in a bucket of rain water then set them aside to drip dry on a table. The room was dark, save for the flickering flame of a solitary candle in the middle of the floor. Staring at the bundle of rags on the sofa the man rubbed his bald head as he pondered his predicament.

  Aside from the occasional soft cry the child was rather lethargic and hadn’t stirred for hours. With an extremely swollen stomach and dark patches on its skin, the man was well aware that this infant was malnourished and now in peril. His mother was all skin and bone and no doubt could hardly even raise a drop of milk to provide for her desperately unfortunate child before she died.

  With no milk or food of any kind to provide it with sustenance, the man was resigned to the fact that there was little or no hope that the baby would survive the night. There was nothing he could do, nothing at all and that cut him to the bone. He was a strong man both physically and emotionally but this, this bleakest of situations was to test his every resolve.

  As he sat in near darkness the man continued to justify killing the child’s mother earlier that day. She had lunged at him from down the aisle of the tram as soon as he had entered, causing him to fire instinctively. Thinking about it now he came to the conclusion that she was merely doing what any mother would do in that situation, desperately trying to keep her child safe and protecting it from every possible threat. Her thin gaunt body was no match for the shotgun pellets that had hit her hard, sending her sprawling backwards killing her instantly. That single shot was ultimately responsible for taking two lives that day.

  It was a long and painful night for the man who tossed and turned in his makeshift bed all evening. Despite sticking to his justification for killing the woman the burden of guilt proved too much and sleep eluded him for the most part. In the dead of night he lay there in the uncomfortable silence listening, watching, waiting. Nothing stirred, sadly he knew it would not be long now.

  When sleep finally arrived the man slipped into a deep coma-like slumber where he remained until morning broke. A beautiful sunrise dawned rays of warm sunlight pouring through every crack of the boarded up windows of the shelter. He awoke surprisingly refreshed and rejuvenated ready for the rigors of yet another challenging day in the wastelands. It was to be a day that would indeed test him in every way.

  The room was deathly quiet and all round him a wretched silence hung heavy. On the sofa the pile of rags lay motionless hinting at the ominous prediction he had made the night before. As much as he knew the outcome he still had to check but found himself struggling to move, feeling as though cement had been poured into his shoes.

  Water splashed from the bowl as the dog satisfied its thirst before slowly wandering over to where his master sat expecting a pat. None came, no affection whatsoever. Feeling ignored it promptly returned to its own bed, circled several times and then lay down and closed its eyes.

  With a heavy heart the man eventually moved to the sofa to check on the infant, knowing full well what he would find. Dread filled his every footstep. The child had been born into a world where it did not belong, where death was ever present and survival was only for those capable of fending for themselves. It did not stand a chance, not in this inhospitable grim new world.

  Kneeling at the foot of the tiny grave the man hammered a makeshift wooden white cross into the turf. With each blow of the mallet an echo resounded loudly through the wastelands… through his head. Keeping his pose he took a moment to say a short prayer, his way of ensuring some semblance of a decent burial and send off to the netherworld.

  “Time to go,” he said, rubbing his companion’s ears. Pulling up his skull shaped face mask he sighed, collected his weapons and packs and set off into the deserted streets.

  It was slow going that morning, additional backpacks containing all of his belongings and a heavy heart weighing him down considerably. He had decided to move on and relocate to another secure location, the sombre setting that his shelter had become he found to be inhospitable and uninhabitable. He could not bear the thought of sleeping another night amidst the fog of death with its stench burning his nostrils.

  Brief encounters with stragglers on the road slowed progress, having to unpack and repack his shoulders with his gear before and after each exchange. He fought with a new found vigor as a steely determination swept through him. Ten inches of serrated steel extinguished life as it was f
orced down to the hilt in each skull before carving effortlessly through bone. The man met the stare of each creature with wide angry vengeful eyes, watching closely as life drained and spirits dissipated into the ether.

  As shadows began to lengthen late in the day the man and his faithful companion began to settle into their new surroundings. The abandoned two-story office building was a suitable alternative, spacious yet secure and relatively safe. It afforded views above both exits front and back as well as allowing free and unimpeded movement between the two floors.

  Undertaking a full search he took a mental picture of the floor plans, analyzed the layout and took careful note of the exits in and out of the building. This allowed him to then strategize the best location inside where he would take up residence and set up effective defense strategies. He smiled contently knowing that he had discovered the perfect fortress for him and his companion.

  He positioned his sleeping quarters close to the rear of the building under a window that overlooked an awning. This spot would provide him with a suitable escape route if the stairwell was ever breached at the front, allowing an easy getaway into the carpark and beyond into the alleyway. He was one to always meticulously plan even the simplest things for his very survival depended upon it.

  Clearing away the clutter in the staff area at the rear he set about rearranging things to his liking, placing his pots pans and gas cooker on the bench. He laid out his rations and then placed his food in cupboards above the sink to protect everything from vermin and insects.

  A restless night’s sleep followed which was to be expected given the traumatic events of the past twenty-four hours. The sounds of night were different here and would take some time for him to become accustomed to. The building creaked and groaned as if it were sighing heavily all through the night keeping the man awake for the most part.

  Another day, another hunt. The undead could not elude the man who had become an expert tracker and with his companion by his side he could find creatures that lurked in any shadow, any recess or within the dark inside any building. He eradicated each threat quickly and permanently for this was his life’s mission, his eternal quest.

  7

  The Black Crow

  Food runs out quickly in the Badlands when there are no convenience stores to keep ones supplies stocked, this was a simple reality of the new world. Within days the cupboards at the new location had become close to empty, most tins of canned food had been depleted and other provisions were running dangerously low. Hunkering down to avoid the recent storm had taken away all of the opportunities he needed to forage, it was time to now replenish and restock.

  Empty streets lay barren lonely and deserted. The man decided to venture deeper into the wastelands in search of provisions that might have been left behind when the city was evacuated. This was always a risky strategy fraught with more danger than he should really be exposing himself to, but food was scarce and he knew there were supplies to be discovered there.

  As he strolled through the godforsaken wastelands the man came upon the dead bodies of several survivors that were rotting out in the open. A blanket of black crows had descended to pick at the carrion, stripping skin from bones. Sights like these were not uncommon as people out scavenging often fell victim to creatures, sometimes even dying at the hands of other people. The black cloud ascended to the heavens as the man and his companion approached the large evil-looking birds cawing loudly in unison, annoyed that their meal had been disturbed.

  Raiding vending machines, shelves and cupboards he scavenged what he could from shops, mini-marts and restaurants along the way. His haul was a reasonably good one and late that afternoon with several full backpacks, satisfied he had made the right decision he decided it was time to head back.

  There was a briskness to the breeze as it whipped its way down the long deserted street the man and his dog walked carefully along. It had been raining on and off all day and another squall arrived bringing with it a heavy downpour.

  Within minutes it had started to pelt down drenching everything under the ominous dark clouds that had just rolled in. They were still a long way from home and whilst the man knew it was only a passing shower he still had to get off the road to escape the rain. Darting for cover he ran down the first available set of stairs and took shelter. He was immediately consumed by darkness.

  The subway was not an ideal setting to be alone in not now, not ever for it presented its own unique set of dangers that lurked deep in the dark. There had been nowhere else for him to go to take shelter and as far as he was concerned despite the risks, at least he was now dry.

  With a click he switched on his flashlight illuminating the way ahead. It was a sullen gloomy place, one which he had only ventured into once since the turn. He feared it, but today could not avoid it.

  “Come on boy,” he whispered to his sidekick, “keep your ears on.”

  In no time at all the sound of the torrential downpour outside began to fade as the man led them away from the entrance, venturing further down the stairs into the murky subway system. He was greeted with exactly what he expected and anticipated, total chaos and desolation. It was eerie down there, deathly quiet scary and totally pitch-black. Newspapers with bold headlines lay scattered everywhere. APOCALYPSE – RUN NOW! read one. ALL HOPE LOST read another.

  As he stepped into the main foyer he felt the ever-present threat of danger all around him, following him and grabbing at him from within the dark. Every step he took created a tiny echo that raced through tunnels, jumped tracks and sped towards the next station, alerting and alarming. Nerves of steel were being tested.

  Finally he found what he was looking for just off from the deserted ticketing booth, a large vending machine that was filled to the brim with chocolates and sweets. Removing his backpack he laid it on the ground then panned around with his flashlight and shotgun to check that the coast was clear. Nothing stirred. With the butt of his Mossberg he shattered the glass and proceeded to hastily stash the loot into whatever spaces remained in his pack and pockets.

  “Good score aye boy!”

  The dog licked its snout, he was hungry. Saliva slobbered and dripped from his gums.

  “Right,” said the man, having emptied the contents completely, save for a few items he detested or was unable to digest. M&M peanuts due to a nut allergy and salt and vinegar potato chips, he simply loathed the flavor. “Ok! Let’s go wait it out up top buddy.”

  As man and beast set off through the dark heading for the entrance a disturbing sound came at them with a rush, like an express train. The man had half been expecting to hear it sooner or later and was actually glad it had taken this long for it to arrive. A low sickening moan echoed through the subway tunnels. Then another, with more and more following shortly afterwards. Before long the entire underground network was resonating loudly with the sound of the undead.

  Making haste the man moved through the debris as quickly as he could making a bee-line for the stairs. Conscious of the threat he had to make it out before he was cut off, or face the prospect of fighting for his life in the dark. He was too late.

  Sensing the danger lurking in the gloom ahead the dog stopped dead, bared its fangs and gave a vicious snarl. He was truly this man’s best friend, sidekick and lookout.

  Spinning on his heels the man shone his light in the direction his dog had indicated. There, before him emerging from the shadows came three creatures, remnants of a man and two women. He needed to decide quickly the best course of action knowing that his shotgun would alert any and all other inert forms that lay in the dark. His knife though would be harder to wield as he would have to hold the flashlight in the other hand in order to see his attackers. It was a tough predicament indeed.

  Three shots rang out and shell casings rattled as they hit the ground, sending echoes resonating through every recess in the dark. The man, whilst thankful to still be alive, shit his pants. The sound of moaning instantly became so loud he could hardly hear himself think. H
e had just woken the dead and it was now time to go and go quickly.

  “Run boy!” he said, with urgency and fear in his voice. “Run!”

  Never before had he sprinted so fast hurdling whatever was in front of him as if he were an Olympic athlete chasing the tape on the line. The dog reached safety first and continued on without waiting for his master. In hot pursuit the man made it to the foot of the stairs, but only just.

  An ugly and grotesque creature lunged at him, savage teeth desperately gnashing wildly in an attempt to tear his flesh from bone. The two met head on and collided sending them both crashing heavily to the ground. Releasing his grip on flashlight and rifle the man watched as they both went skidding across the tiled surface landing well out of reach.

  To his left the creature moaned as it fought to right itself like a toppled tortoise, eventually managing to roll onto its side. It lunged again landing on top of him snapping yellow and rotted teeth a hair’s breadth away from his face. Ten inches of serrated steel ended the tussle in an instant as he drove his blade deep into the creature’s forehead. There was no time to think as more moaning came from everywhere around him.

  Diving to the ground he reached for his Mossberg, pumped it then rolled onto his back to face the darkness. His breath was short and his heart thumped loudly against his chest wall, shaking his entire body with each beat. On hands and knees he crawled towards the flashlight which was shining brightly against the white tiled wall. As he swung the beam into the dark he shit his pants for the second time that day.

  A horde of undead creatures were marching straight towards him, shuffling and staggering out of time. Quickly he got to his feet and turned towards the entrance, his nerves of steel standing firm, for now.