Geraint Wyn: Zombie Killer (Year of the Zombie Book 5)

by Gary Slaymaker

  Billy leant towards the portly man stood next to Gez. ‘Bit one-sided, isn’t it?’

  ‘That’s the trouble with these dead buggers, see. They’re not natural ball carriers’, he replied sagely.

  The Lampeter team trotted back to their own half, and waited patiently to kick-off again. The whistle blew, the ball sailed through the air, and more carnage ensued.

  Five minutes into the game and the ‘home’ team were already ahead by forty nine points to nil. The portly man continued his touchline commentary. ‘Most of the time, these poor sods are lucky to get nil.’

  Back on the pitch, the referee had just awarded Lampeter a line-out, although, trying to get the zombies to stand in a straight line for the throw in was proving a bit tricky.

  There was a wicked smile on the face of the home team’s hooker, as the referee finally decided to let the line-out be taken. Without a second thought, he launched the rugby ball straight into the face of the nearest Stench. The creature’s rotting features imploded as the ball struck it in the head and the zombie hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.

  There was a shrill blast on the whistle, and the referee shouted, ‘not straight.’

  The hooker was livid. ‘What do you mean, not straight?’

  The ref gave him a steely look. ‘Do you want me to stick with ‘not straight’ or would you rather ten minutes in the sin bin for ungentlemanly conduct?’

  The hooker turned on his heel, stomping away from the ref, while cursing under his breath.

  Gez had seen enough of this rugby match to last several lifetimes and moved away from the crowd at the railing. Beth saw him step back and joined him.

  ‘Not enjoying the game, Gez?’

  ‘It’s hardly competitive, is it?’

  ‘I know. I actually almost feel some pity for those Stenches out there.’

  ‘I’m starting to wonder if this weekend away was a good idea.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, if they get this excited about a one-sided game of rugby, imagine how dull the zombie hunt could be.’

  Beth furrowed her brow. ‘I hadn’t thought of it like that.’ She glanced back towards the pitch. ‘At least Neil seems to be enjoying himself.’

  Neil and Toby were stood together, cheering on the home team; whooping and yelling every time they scored.

  Beth shook her head in despair. ‘Oh God, they’ve bonded.’

  Gez grinned. ‘Still, at least he seems to have forgotten his fear of all things rural.’

  Beth nodded in agreement. ‘He might even decide to stay here for good. I can see him now, trying to milk a cow by hand.’

  ‘Knowing Neil, he’d probably end up trying to milk the bull.’

  There was a sudden cheering from the crowd. The pair looked towards the pitch, just in time to witness the sight of a Stench carrying the rugby ball and shambling towards the Lampeter try line.

  ‘Looks like one of them’s played this game before,’ volunteered Gez.

  Almost as soon as he’d finished the sentence, the ball-carrying zombie was hit from the side by a ferocious tackle from one of the home team’s forwards. In fact, the impact was so violent that the Lampeter player went through the Stench completely, leaving nothing but the lower half of its torso standing on the pitch. The player turned sharply and ran back up the pitch, carrying the top half of the Stench’s flailing body with him. As he crossed the try line, he ripped the ball out of the dead creature’s hands and planted it firmly on the ground for the five points. The crowd went wild.

  ‘Amaze-balls!’ yelled Neil and Toby as one voice. Some of the supporters standing within earshot turned their heads and gave the pair looks of either mild amusement or utter disgust.

  Gez looked at Beth. ‘Ok, I have to admit, that was impressive.’

  ‘The try or the duet of amaze-balls?’

  The pair chuckled and made their way slowly back through the cheering crowd.

  Billy had been enjoying the rugby spectacle thoroughly over the past fifteen minutes and was now asking the portly man next to him all manner of questions about the intricacies of the game.

  ‘So, are there scrums at all?’

  ‘Would you want to pack down with eight of those dead things? The smell would be enough to knock you out, to begin with. And if one of them managed to slip its muzzle… well, it doesn’t bear thinking about.’

  Billy nodded. ‘And what happens when you run out of Stenches?’

  ‘Run out of what?’

  ‘Stenches. It’s what we call these things where I’m from.’

  ‘Stenches… good name, that. Well, we’ve only got so many of these Stenches available to us, which is why they only play a game like this once every three months. It takes a while for the boys to hunt down another squad of these buggers so for the most part, when there’s only six ‘Stenches’ left on the pitch, we usually finish the game there and then.’

  Billy did a quick head count, and noticed that there were still seven zombies shuffling around the field.

  ‘So this could all be over soon.’

  ‘Sooner than you think,’ said the portly man pointing his finger towards the far side of the pitch.

  Another zombie had managed to get its hands on the ball and was lumbering up the pitch at a decent lick… for a dead thing.

  Unfortunately, it was nowhere near as quick as the small and speedy winger that was flying towards it at a rapid rate of knots. At the last second, the wing stuck out an arm and clotheslined the advancing Stench.

  ‘C’mon, mun, play the game now,’ shouted someone in the crowd at the fast-moving Lampeter back. There was a shrill whistle and the referee shouted, ‘high tackle!’

  The winger turned furiously to face the ref. ‘What do you mean high tackle? How was that ever a high tackle?’

  ‘Because,’ said the ref in a world-weary tone, ‘Your opponent’s head is a good five foot away from the rest of him. And I don’t even need to look in the Welsh Rugby Union coaching guide to be able to tell you that THAT was a HIGH BLOODY TACKLE!’

  The referee’s face was beetroot red as he leant in to shout at the little winger.

  He finally blew three sharp blasts on the whistle. ‘That’s it. Game over. Lampeter win… again. See you all in three months.’

  The temperamental back shrugged and went to join his team-mates, who were celebrating their decidedly one-sided victory in the middle of the pitch. The crowd leapt over or ducked under the barrier to join the celebrations, flattening the remaining zombies as they went.

  *

  The celebrations eventually died down, and people started wandering away from the ground. Toby and Fiona were still shaking hands with the players in the middle of the pitch. The Lampeter squad seemed keener on hugging Fiona than shaking her hand. One of the forwards even tried to get her to swap shirts with him, but Fiona wasn’t falling for that old trick, again.

  Neil had joined Gez and Beth by now and the pair were making fun of him and his new best friend, Tobes.

  The leg-pulling was interrupted by a shout from Uncle Billy.

  ‘Oi! Come on, we’re heading into the clubhouse.’

  ‘What for?’ yelled Gez.

  ‘That’s where we’re meeting the organisers of this zombie safari - fella by the name of Big Ken. You coming?’

  The three friends quickly caught up with Billy and together they strode into the clubhouse. Even though it wasn’t even midday yet, the place was already fairly full with most of the drinkers having excited, post-match discussions about the game they’d just watched.

  Billy headed straight to the bar and had a quick word with the club steward. ‘Excuse me, I’m looking for Big Ken, please.’

  The steward pointed towards three large track-suited men stood at the back of the room.

  ‘See those three big lads next to the slot machine? Have a guess which one of them is Big Ken.’

  Billy looked towards the three hulking figures. The tallest of the trio had to be a
t least six foot ten, while the other two were, at a rough estimate, six two and six five.

  ‘Thanks. While I’m here, can I have three glasses of Cola please, boss?’

  The steward poured the drinks and took Billy’s money. He handed the glasses across to Gez and his friends.

  ‘You three wait here for a minute, I’m going to talk to Big Ken.’

  Billy weaved his way through the drinkers and found himself standing in front of the tallest of the three big men. He looked up, and up, at the giant in front of him.

  ‘Big Ken?’

  ‘Yes,’ said a voice to his left. He turned to look at the 6’ 5’ tall character who was gazing at him suspiciously.

  ‘Sorry, I just thought that your man there would be Big Ken.’

  A smile played across Big Ken’s lips. ‘Easy mistake to make, squire. I’m Big Ken. The tall specimen, there is my brother, Even Bigger Kev, and this here on my right is the runt of our litter, Little Keith.’

  ‘Ah right, you’re brothers. Nice one.’

  ‘What d’you mean, nice one?’ growled Even Bigger Kev.

  ‘Er… dunno really. Just something to say, I suppose.’

  Big Ken patted his gigantic brother on the shoulder. ‘All right Kev, calm down, mun. The man’s only being friendly. So, I take it you’ve come about the hunting trip?’

  Billy tried not to be intimidated by the glowering Kev as he smiled politely at Big Ken. ‘That’s right. I was told that you’re the guy to talk to.’

  ‘How many of you are there?’

  ‘Four in total. Me and three teenagers.’

  ‘Don’t forget us, guys.’ Toby’s booming voice carried across the whole room.

  ‘Ah, bollocks,’ Billy muttered under his breath.

  Little Keith leant in to speak to Big Ken, ‘We don’t need the kids, mun.’

  Ken glared at his youngest brother. ‘Now, now, Keith. We cater for everyone, remember?’

  Little Keith grumbled and headed for the bar. Big Ken turned back to Billy. Toby had, by now, joined them as well.

  ‘So, six of you fancy a trip out into zombie country, eh? Fair enough. We’ll see you outside in ten minutes. Just jump in the wagon and we’ll head off out.’

  ‘Mind if we swing past the Castle Hotel first?’ asked Billy.

  ‘What for?’ growled Even Bigger Kev.

  ‘Just want to pick up some of our gear. Rucksacks, a couple of weapons… You know, just in case things get a little hairy out there.’

  ‘We got weapons. You don’t need nothing else.’

  Billy looked at him warily. ‘Still… belt and braces, eh? Better safe than sorry, mate.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Big Ken. ‘No harm in being prepared, I suppose. You get your group together and we’ll see you outside in ten.’

  Big Ken and his brothers headed out for the club car park. Billy worked his way back towards the three teenagers. ‘Okay, finish your drinks. We’re off. And keep your wits about you from hereon in.’

  There was an obvious look of worry on Neil’s face. ‘Why? Do you think the Stenches might get us?’

  Billy watched anxiously as the three burly brothers headed out to their vehicle. ‘It’s not the Stenches I’m worried about, son.’

  CHAPTER 12

  The six visitors climbed into the back of a battered old white Ford Transit van. At least, Billy assumed it had been white originally, but it was difficult to tell underneath all the dirt and grease that coated the vehicle’s sides. He did, however, notice the mud-caked, hand-painted sign on the side of the van which read, ‘Davies Bros. Zombie Tours. We find them. You end them.’

  The three brothers sat in the cab, while their clients had to make do with a few scattered cushions placed in the back as a half-hearted gesture at comfort.

  They stopped at the Castle Hotel first so that Billy could load up on provisions and protection, before heading back through town, up North Road again, then taking the turning onto Forest Road which would lead them into the heart of Lodge Wood and Upper Forest.

  It wasn’t the comfiest of rides to begin with, but once the Transit left the A-road, things got spectacularly bumpy for the passengers in the back of the van. Billy thumped his hand angrily against the rear of the cab. ‘Calm down will you? There’s people in the back here… remember?’

  There was no reply from the three brothers, but Billy was sure he could hear them chuckling.

  Ten minutes the driver slammed his foot down on the brake, and all six passengers in the back damn near went sailing into the cab wall. Muttering and cursing, they brushed themselves down. The Transit’s back doors swung open. Big Ken grinned at them. ‘Well, we’re here. Out you get.’

  Toby grinned, ‘Nice one guys. But on the way back, if you could take it a little easier that would be great. Not for my sake, you understand… just don’t want to see the ladies getting bruised and battered, you know.’

  Big Ken nodded. ‘Right you are. Easy does it on the way back then.’

  Again, Billy was sure he could hear the sound of quiet laughter coming from outside the van.

  *

  As the six travellers stepped down from the vehicle, they could see the bumpy dirt track they’d just travelled down, which was surrounded by tall evergreen trees on both sides. As they took their bearings, Little Keith and Even Bigger Kev stepped into view. Both were carrying rifles, while Kev had a shotgun strapped to his back. He handed the rifle to Big Ken and stood back.

  ‘Are you really going to need those?’ asked Billy, pointing at the weapons.

  ‘Like you said, boss, better safe than sorry. Come on then, we’re wasting time here. Saddle up.’

  Big Ken slung the rifle over his shoulder and started to head into the forest. Neil’s nervousness had returned. ‘Can’t we just wait here for one of them to come to us?’

  Little Keith snorted sarcastically. ‘It’s zombie hunting lad, not zombie waiting around. Let’s go.’

  *

  They walked quickly but quietly, in single file, through the forest. Big Ken took the lead with Even Bigger Kev bringing up the rear. Fortunately their footsteps were largely silenced by the blanket of rotted leaves that lay all around them. Even though the sun was high in the sky, very little of it managed to penetrate the canopy of fir trees, and the whole crew were constantly squinting into the distance for any signs of movement. Every so often the sound of a twig snapping in the distance or a rustling in the undergrowth would make Neil damn near jump out of his skin. The rest of the gang would then pause for a few seconds before continuing on their trek.

  An hour later the crew had arrived at an open clearing in the trees, some fifteen yards in diameter, and with decent visibility all round. Big Ken stopped and looked back at his two brothers. ‘This’ll do.’

  Ken stepped forward and turned to face the others. He slid his rifle from his shoulder and held it in his hands. His other two brothers did likewise, while stepping away from the rest of the party.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ Billy angrily asked.

  ‘Trip’s over, mate.’

  Little Keith waved his rifle at the visitors. ‘Throw your rucksacks over here. And while we’re at it, I’ll have your mobile phones as well.’

  Billy glared at him. ‘Who the hell are we going to call out here?’

  ‘It’s not so you can call for help. It’s so you can’t use the GPS or Google maps to find your way out again.’

  Fiona was sobbing quietly, as Toby did his best to comfort her. Billy was getting angrier by the second.

  ‘Bloody hell! If all you wanted to do was rob us, why didn’t you do it back where you parked instead of dragging us all the way out here?’

  Even Bigger Kev was chuckling menacingly. ‘Don’t want your stuff. Just wanted you.’

  There was a mixture of bewilderment and horror on the faces of the visitors.

  Ken hoisted the rifle onto his shoulder casually. ‘What my less than eloquent brother is trying to say is that it’s not your ge
ar we’re after… it’s you. The thing is, you see, I’m not just the fella that runs the zombie tours around here, I’m also one of the coaches for our rugby team.’

  ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ asked Gez, who was feeling just as angry as his uncle by now.

  ‘It’s got a lot to do with everything, boy. Do you have any idea how difficult it’s become to put together a team of those dead things for our matches? We used to have these games once a month but now those rotten buggers are starting to thin out around here, it’s becoming tougher and tougher to find replacements for our matches.’

  ‘And that’s where you come in,’ added Little Keith.

  Big Ken gave his brother an annoyed look. ‘As I was explaining to these ladies and gents, Keith, it’s getting harder to find fresh meat. Well, alright, not fresh meat, but you know what I mean. And that’s why I came up with this idea of bringing new “players” into the area.’

  ‘But I don’t know how to play rugby,’ wailed Neil.

  ‘Doesn’t matter. We don’t need you match fit, we just need a corpse out there.’

  ‘So why here?’ demanded Billy.

  Ken stared balefully at him. ‘I said there weren’t as many zombies as there used to be, I didn’t say there weren’t any around at all. We leave you here. You go wandering off. And pretty soon, you’re going to run into one of our local stiffs. We’ll come back here in a few days to find you. You should have turned by then. And Bob’s your uncle… we’ve got ourselves four new members of the Lampeter zombie team.’

  ‘F.. f.. four?’ stammered Toby. ‘But there are six of us.’

  ‘Don’t want girls,’ growled Even Bigger Kev. ‘Girls are rubbish at rugby.’

  ‘You’re insane, the bloody lot of you,’ barked Billy.

  ‘You say insane, I say entrepreneurial. Don’t worry, boss. It’s not personal, it’s just business.’

  Toby took a defiant step towards Big Ken. ‘You won’t get away with this, you maniacs.’

  ‘Well, we’ve gotten away with it for the past six months, so I don’t see you lot putting a stop to our little enterprise.’ Ken lowered the rifle and took aim at Toby’s stomach. ‘Okay, step back or you’ll end up with a bullet in your gut.’ He looked around at the worried faces of the newcomers. ‘You can try and follow us out of here if you want, but we’ll be keeping an eye out for that kind of move. Try that and the only thing that’ll happen is we’ll shoot you in the leg and slow you down.’