by Ricky Fleet
HELLSPAWN: SENTINEL – Book Three in the Hellspawn Series
©2016 Ricky Fleet
First Edition
Edited by Christina Hargis Smith
Cover art by Jeffrey Kosh Graphics
Published by Optimus Maximus Publishing, LLC
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living, dead, or otherwise, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.
Electronic edition, License notes:
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the work of the author.
ISBN-10: 1-944732-14-4
ISBN-13: 978-1-944732-14-1
DEDICATED TO
I am dedicating Hellspawn Sentinel, book 3 in the series to my magnificent beta readers: Denise, Joan, Stephanie, and Maura. You are the glue that holds indie authors together, the last bastion of defence against a typo or plot error. I truly value your time in helping me and I am honoured to call you all my friends.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
As always, my wife and children have been fantastic through the whole process. Words of encouragement and steaming mugs of tea have kept my engine burning as I tried to guide my flawed family across the devastation of southern England.
My sister Donna who has supported me at every step. Or should I say bullying me to hurry up so she can see what happens next to my plucky band.
My editor and publisher Christina, without whom none of this would be possible.
All the amazing social media groups who have helped to support me: All Things Zombie with Jeffrey, Zombie Book of the Month Club with Christy and Shaun, and, of course, the wonder that is The Living Army. A group of amazing people led by Mr R.R. Haywood. They’ve welcomed me into the pack and made me feel like part of the family.
Lastly to my readers. Never in my wildest dreams could I imagine that you would like my story enough to want more. Your friendship and messages of support mean the world to me.
Thank you.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
DEDICATION
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CASTLE MAP
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
PROLOGUE
The group of survivors had suffered their first loss and the heartache was overwhelming. Paige had died to save the lives of those she had come to love. It was a sacrifice as old as time. To some extent, they were all unprepared for the death of one of their own. The battles and adversity they had faced had given them a sense of destiny, a subconscious belief that they would make it unharmed and thrive in the world as everything else crumbled to dust.
The poison that had been introduced with the rescue of Debbie and the discovery of Mike had been removed like a tumor by the cowardly attack that had cost Paige her life. The wound of the removal would be with them forever, only healing with the divine retribution that would come as the two would-be murderers drew their final breath and descended to the darkest corners of Hell.
Each member sat in silence as the burning devastation receded from view; crying, hugging, lacking the words to comfort each other as they all tried to make sense of the loss and the fact that her smile would never again brighten their days. The soldiers knew the feeling all too well from their fallen brethren on the killing fields of the Middle-East. Despite their acquaintance only lasting a single day, they both wrestled with inner turmoil. As the trained professionals, they analyzed their every action for mistakes that could have caused the death. No amount of self-reproach could erase the truth; it was just a cruel twist of fate that caused the shell casing to lodge in the assault rifle at the wrong moment.
The outskirts of Chichester burned, ignited by the explosion of the huge gas container that fed the cities heating fuel. In one fell stroke, the group had destroyed tens of thousands of the Hellspawn. Knowledge of the remaining population of sixty million and their new propensity to eat anything living marred the sense of achievement. The path ahead was clear, reach the sanctuary of the sprawling, impenetrable castle or die trying. Nothing less would be acceptable. Their perilous journey was only going to get harder.
CHAPTER ONE
“We got the bitch, she is really dead!” exclaimed Debbie, barely able to suppress a gleeful cheer.
“Shut your fucking mouth!” Mike hissed and pulled her further behind the small hospital radio building. In the day it had broadcast from morning until night, soothing tunes and talk that aided in the recuperation of the hospital patients.
The chaos of the escape had given them a window of opportunity. From the dark shadows of the shrubbery they watched the vehicles exit in convoy. The forlorn faces in the seats gave Debbie a strange sexual thrill and she found her hand rubbing between her legs, teasing the orgasm that was close to taking her. Mike looked over and grabbed her hand, pulling it away roughly.
“This isn’t the time!” he growled quietly. He felt the same rush, the sense of power that had accompanied the assault and death. There would be time to celebrate later, if they ever made it to safety.
“Sorry,” she replied, pulling a pouting face that Mike ignored.
The line of dead stretched out for what seemed like an eternity. Men, women, and children all shuffled past for nearly fifteen minutes, until the whole city had practically emptied in pursuit of the last remaining living flesh.
“We give it another five minutes, just in case,” Mike said to Debbie who nodded.
“How many do you think there were?” she asked with wonder in her voice.
“Tens of thousands,” Mike answered. He had to admit it had been quite the spectacle, and this was only one small city in a country of huge metropolises. They stopped talking in whispers and stood up, still concealed but feeling more confident.
“I would love to see Peter’s face right now,” she said, wringing her hands with the delicious thought.
“Are you a complete idiot?” Mike demanded and grabbed her by her top, shaking her.
“What do you mean? Why are you being so horrible to me?” Debbie complained and started crying.
“We didn’t achieve anything, other than pissing off the very people that would have happily left us for dead. Who gives a shit if we managed to kill your ex’s new bit of pussy?” he almost shouted in her face.
“I…” she hesitated, unable to argue with his assessment. She had been so lost in the euphoria of striking back at Peter that she had forgotten the main point of the attack was to kill Braiden and Kurt, the two people who had insulted and physically assaulted them both. Now that they were off and running, with a score to settle that would only be sated with blood, she felt a pang of nerves in the pit of her stomach.
“See, we are worse off than if we had just waited for a better opportunity,” he complained, furious at how it had all gone so wrong. Now they were abandoned and on foot in the middle of the city. Only the mass exodus of the zombie occupants would give them a chance of survival.
“You were the one who missed Kurt, I knocked Braiden out cold.” She scowled and Mike backhanded her, sending her sprawling out from the bushes and into the daylight.
“You watch your mouth. If you had been watching me, you would have known when to hit them!” he said and held out a hand for her to take.
“Fuck off!” she cursed and struggled to rise through her swimming vision.
“Don’t be like that, I’m sorry. You just mouth off and make me angry sometimes,” he apologized and helped her up. The irony of her new relationship was completely lost on Debbie, who was unable to see the similarities to how she had treated Peter for years. Even if she had the empathy to understand, it was unlikely she could ever feel guilty about it anyway.
“Mike, we have to go,” gasped Debbie as she wiped the blood from her lips.
Around the side of the building came the slower zombies; the ones that were unable to keep up with the main horde who surged out of the city. Each and every one was in pieces, missing arms and legs, or a combination of the two. Some were merely hollowed out trunks with arms, viscera trailing in place of legs. They advanced by dragging themselves over the tarmac like a slab of cheese on a grater, leaving a smeared trail on the rough surface. Others stood on their one good leg, then flopped forwards with a slap, breaking their bones in a repeated maneuver to move toward their prey. Pulped faces groaned and eventually they would crack their skull open and kill themselves, but at the moment they were still deadly. Mike and Debbie hastily retreated.
It couldn’t have worked out better for the two outcasts; the city was deserted apart from the occasional cadaver who they just rushed around with a fair amount of ease. Their weapons would keep them safe if they needed to fight, but they decided that there was no point in endangering themselves unnecessarily.
“This is so eerie,” Debbie whispered unnecessarily, in awe of the vacant streets and total absence of sound.
“I’m a little spooked myself if I’m honest,” Mike replied quietly. It was not the time for false bravado. The loneliness they both felt was infectious and they longed to be back with the family, however bizarre that may have seemed to them. Even the presence of groups of zombies was a type of company, regardless of the threat. The abandoned streets were littered with the remains of the zombie outbreak. Cars ploughed into buildings with sections collapsed from the spreading fire. Windows and doors were smashed on nearly every abode or shop where people had sought a hiding place, without success. The ground was awash with the once living remnants of the population, flesh, blood, limbs, and bodies were scattered everywhere. Travelling through the more rural areas with the others had left them ill prepared for the visual assault they were facing. It was as if they were walking down the main shopping precinct in Hell. Where once people had hustled and bustled with frenetic energy to satisfy their consumer urges, now the shops lay unattended. Filled with goods that would never be sold in currency that was now worthless, they called out to them from their old life. Jewelry shops with millions of pounds’ worth of gold and diamonds on display were untouched, the shiny baubles worth less than a tin of beans or bottle of water.
“We need to find some better gear, there is a camping shop just east of the center of town,” Debbie informed Mike. The cold was biting into them and though they wore thick layers, the material was not ideal for cross country travel.
“Ok, lead the way,” he urged and followed, casting wary glances back in case their mortal enemies had decided to follow. All was quiet except for the lone walkers that had not heeded the call of the hospital and now trailed the pair.
They reached the shop and the door opened with a jangle of an overhead bell mounted on the door frame. They winced and listened for any signs of movement for a few seconds, before deciding the way was clear.
“We won’t have time to get our stuff before those three are on us,” Debbie cautioned.
“Don’t worry, the others showed us how to handle them. I hide behind this clothes rack and you act as bait. Simple,” he explained and she wrinkled her nose at being termed ‘bait’ for undead freaks.
They stripped out of their outer clothing and selected lighter, but much better insulated thermal clothing. Debbie fitted her life preserver again, knowing that it had already saved her life once in the farm’s garden.
“They are here,” she said and Mike ducked into cover as the trio of festering flesh lumbered into view. She let out a quiet whistle, only wishing to ensure she had the attention of the closest zombies, not any that may be lurking hidden in the vicinity. Their milky, dripping eyes turned to her and they lurched through the shop doorway, smashing the pane of glass and slashing themselves deeply. The noise would attract anything close and Debbie’s fear jumped ten notches as the bell rung, announcing their new guests. Mike was fast as lightning and hacked at the three undead before they could attack Debbie. The last one sprayed her with dark green, stinking blood and she wiped madly at her face to get the liquid off.
“Why did you do that?” she spluttered, spitting on the floor in case any had entered her mouth.
“Did what? Saved your ass?” He smirked at her discomfort.
“Ugh, now I have to change again. Just keep your eye out for any more that heard the glass breaking. Why you didn’t just open the door before they get here I don’t know,” she complained and started undressing.
“Well fuck me, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was your fucking butler,” he grunted, flipping her turned back the bird. If they had been in a safer spot she would have received a second slap.
They were left undisturbed for the rest of their looting spree. Footwear was swapped for more solid hiking boots, their trainers topping the pile of disposed clothes. They gathered tents, sleeping bags, ground rolls for padding, and two heavy duty rucksacks. Looking at the darkening sky, Mike took two waterproof ponchos from the rack and pushed them into the bags as well. In the glass display case there were assorted flint sticks, multi tools, knives, and other useful equipment that they crammed into their pockets, just in case. Their journey would be overland, though nothing further than a mile from what was once called civilization. The chances of them needing the maps and compasses was remote, but why take the chance. They left the shop, kitted like they were headed to the top of Mount Everest.
“You look so goofy,” Mike joked, laughing at her ensemble.
“You are dressed in exactly the same clothes!” she answered, slapping him on the shoulder.
“Hey, would you look at that!” Mike pointed to a couple of bikes that had been dropped in the middle of the street.
“I’d rather cycle than be on foot. I want to get out of here,” she agreed and they climbed onto the machines.
“It didn’t do the two losers who dropped them any good, though,” Mike added, considering the benefits of a quiet and stealthy escape as opposed to bombing down the street on the bikes.
“The place would have been crawling with them. We may as well be the last people on Earth, it will be fine,” Debbie reasoned.
“We need some food and drink too,” he said and they set off, the rubber singing on the tarmac as they sped along.
“There is a small convenience store about half a mile away, we could try there. It’s either that or we have to raid the supermarket, and I don’t think that will be empty…” She shivered, imagin
ing the aisles and their new decaying shoppers, wandering the rows forever, unable to buy what they sought.
Debbie slowed to a stop and laid her bike down outside the shop. The entrance was open and they approached the dark interior carefully. Mike picked up a jar of raspberry jam that had rolled outside.
“Let’s see if anyone’s home,” he said and threw it as hard as he could through the doorway. The glass smashed, but the sticky contents dulled the noise so that it would only disturb anything lurking within.
“I don’t hear anything,” Debbie whispered as she strained to catch the smallest shuffle or groan.
“Ok, just grab water and dry stuff, biscuits and crackers,” Mike directed and they filled a separate travelling bag with the goods.
“I would give anything for some meat,” Debbie complained, longingly. She rifled through packets of pre-packed chicken and ham, tossing them onto the floor as her frustration grew into anger. Foil sealed green and brown mold had replaced the moist and tender contents since the refrigerators had stopped working.
“I bet you would,” Mike joked lewdly, squeezing her bum.
“Fuck off!” Debbie said and pushed him away, “You said it wasn’t the time, remember?”
“Don’t you get smart with me, you whore,” Mike sneered through clenched teeth, “I say when it’s time, do you understand?”
“Yeah ok, Mike, whatever you say,” she husked, turning to sit on the edge of the nearest shelf. She pulled at the waistband of her jeans and knickers, dropping them to the floor. Biting her lip seductively, one hand roamed downwards, parting the moist lips with her fingers. Although she feared Mike, she was drawn to his power like a moth to a flame. She needed him, craved his attention, whether it was positive or negative. They were bonded by the blood of others.
“It’s time,” Mike said, stepping forward with a leer on his face.
