Hellspawn (Book 3): Hellspawn Sentinel

by Ricky Fleet

  “If we disembark, how far is it on foot?” Jonesy asked the boys.

  “The surrounding areas have public paths for tourists to use, it gives a full tour of the outer perimeter. We are looking at about a quarter of a mile to reach the gate itself,” Braiden explained. They had taken the walk as a group before the main visit and he remembered the sense of awe as he regarded the towering battlements.

  “It’s a straight shot, with good views between the trees. We won’t be caught unawares,” Sam declared.

  “Does anyone have any other ideas, let’s hear them?” DB asked.

  “I think it is the best option,” agreed John, “Worst case scenario is we are forced back to the boat and need to make another plan.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  A nervous tension started to manifest in the group as they made their preparations. Christina was charged with piloting the vessel as she had navigated the canal ways and rivers before. The firearms were cleaned again and the handheld weapons were sharpened by a whet stone that had been found with the tools of one home. The blades glinted wickedly in the sunlight that bored through the circular windows into the vessel’s lounge.

  “It’s all yours, Captain,” saluted DB and Christina blushed.

  The boat was untied and the quiet engine started to propel the craft upriver, against the current. The day was gorgeous, with a cloudless sky. Where once white exhaust trails followed the distant airplanes as they carried excited holiday makers to exotic destinations, now only a couple of birds circled, looking for prey.

  “Spooky,” Peter grumbled as they floated beneath the burned out train carriage; an empty, metallic corpse.

  The charred shell was left in the distance and the panorama opened up into the open fields of the sprawling Sussex farmlands. In any other circumstance, the voyage would have been thoroughly enjoyable, with breathtaking views and a calming lull with every gentle bob on the water. Knowing what lay at the end of this trip left them unable to appreciate anything, and the faint figures that wandered aimlessly in the open lands reminded them of the reality of their situation.

  “Heads up,” Jonesy called out.

  The first homes came into view on the horizon. Construction spanning centuries had grown from the mud as the town had grown, houses of ancient style melding with modern apartments. One thousand years ago, the first stones had been laid for the monolith that now rose above the homes like a cold, grey sentinel. The huge round tower inside the grounds that was raised even higher than the castle keep had acted as a watchtower in the days of knights and squires. The guards would have been able to see for miles around, giving advanced warning so the villagers could seek sanctuary within from any invader. Now they were the invaders, and no guard stood anywhere on the crenellated walls to sound the alarm.

  “Stay quiet. Everyone except Christina get out of sight,” Jonesy ordered.

  The town had two bridges that spanned the rushing water and the dead were in abundance. Lacking the ability to reason, any that caught sight of the slow moving craft could only lean against the protective barrier and groan. The near silent engine purred within its insulated compartment and the sound of lapping waves was insufficient to get the attention of more than a token number of zombies. They were lucky that the stealthy craft could move largely unheard or they would have gathered a sizeable following.

  “There are so many, I hope we can seal the castle before they wander in for a visit,” whispered Sam to Braiden as they crouched inside the boat, looking out of the windows.

  “Wow, look at that,” Braiden answered, ignoring Sam’s fears.

  Backlit by the sun was Arundel Cathedral; a stunning structure in a French Gothic style. Gargoyles looked down on the surrounding houses, acting as sentries and chutes for the rain water that would cascade from the roof. The lead lined windows rose to evenly spaced smaller spires which continued like the tines of a fork around the building. Above the entrance was the main spire, a slate tiled belfry with a golden cross mounted atop to be closer to God. A fantastically intricate rose window had been built facing the castle, the twelve spokes each glazed with colored glass depicting one of Jesus’s apostles.

  “I can see why people would be drawn to worship in a place like that,” Sarah commented.

  “Sadly, I think people have been fooled,” Gloria added glumly. Her faith used to soar at the sight of the magnificent houses of God. Now they filled her with a sense of mockery, as if the money she donated was used to aid some heinous fraud against the weak minded.

  Christina guided the boat around the gradual northerly curve in the river and the town disappeared, concealed by the colossal towers and living quarters of the castle. Trees sprung up and lined the banks as human habitation gave way to nature. She stamped on the deck to indicate they could return topside and the others made their way up the stairs.

  “We are going to have to drop anchor and use the portable ramp to get on and off as there is no dock on this stretch of river,” Christina informed them all. Even Honey sat down and stared at her, waiting for more instructions.

  “Can we be sure it won’t float away if we need to retreat?” Peter asked.

  “The anchor will hold the old girl steady.” Christina patted the steering console.

  “That stretch would be ideal.” DB pointed to a further bend in the river’s course that took them to a point as close as they could get to the castle.

  With expertise, Christina guided the canal boat to a safe distance, ensuring it didn’t run aground and beach itself.

  “We have gone a bit too far, Doc,” DB mocked lightheartedly.

  She smiled at him and walked casually to the edge, before throwing the anchor overboard. Reversing the throttle, the boat followed the current slowly until finally stopping as the chain pulled taut. The boat was perfectly lined up where he had asked for it to be.

  “Happy now?” she asked.

  “Well I’ll be damned,” DB nodded with admiration.

  “Not today I…” Gloria had almost said pray, “Hope.”

  “What can you see?” DB asked Jonesy who was surveying the area between them and the castle with binoculars.

  “The gate is wide open, which is good and bad,” Jonesy said.

  “Bad how?” Peter asked, “It means we don’t have to break in or climb over.”

  “It also means they don’t need to break in or climb over. From this angle there could be ten thousand waiting for us on the other side of that wall.”

  Peter visibly blanched at the thought. Jonesy kept staring as if the power of his mind would transform the binoculars into x-ray specs that would give them the answer.

  “What about between us and the gate?” DB continued, unfazed by the thought of destroying a few more hundred before the day was over.

  “There are about thirty, some of which will need to be taken out on the way. I can’t see behind every tree but I think Sam chose wisely on the infiltration point,” Jonesy complimented the youngster.

  “Ok, we travel light as discussed. Until the portcullis is dropped and that place is ours, the bulk of our goods stays put on the boat.” Jonesy was hoping for the best outcome.

  The castle was awe inspiring and every second that passed reinforced his belief that it would be a fearsome base. They could house hundreds within the high walls and have no fear of the dead. Food would be another issue entirely, but they were so close to safety he would give it more thought if they lived. The group were ready and stood facing him, weapons ready. Armed and dangerous, he thought, chuckling at the scowls of determination.

  “Let’s take this mother fucker,” growled DB.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  The huge soldier dropped the boarding ramp over the edge where it embedded into the soft soil. Securing it to the boat with the inset catches, they disembarked and some of the confidence immediately disappeared. On foot, with no water to keep them safe, it was just them and the herculean task of securing a castle built a millennium ago against the reani
mated dead. Peter let out a sick groan and Braiden patted him on the back in support.

  “We got this, mate, just like the mine,” Braiden said and Peter felt a little better.

  “Sorry, just a bit scary. I mean look at that thing!” Peter whispered.

  He wasn’t wrong. Every step took them closer and, except the dog who was loving the freedom of the fields, the group felt pitiful in its presence. How the hell had medieval soldiers felt, drums banging in time with their march as they advanced on the fortress beneath a rain of arrows?

  “Sam, take point with me. Use the slingshot to take out those.” Jonesy indicated a group of three zombies who would block their path in seconds.

  They all paused while he took careful aim and scored one kill for each bearing, brains bursting from the ruptured skulls. The suppressors had started to fail so Jonesy and DB were reluctant to use them. The near silent coughs were fast becoming more like the full cracks of regular shells. Once separated from the festering zombies by the thick walls, they could fire without being overly concerned about what it summoned.

  “Sarah, Jodi, watch our flank,” DB ordered and they fell into position.

  They had reached the tree lined public paths which would have been heaving with nature ramblers before the horror, even in the cold winter. The wide trunks of the old yew trees offered concealment for waiting monsters, aided by the thick cover of the evergreen branches which cast a dark shadow below. An older zombie staggered towards them, leaving fluids in its wake which burst from bloated pustules. Sarah didn’t blink as she ducked below the clutching arms and drove the machete up through the chin and out of the top of its head. DB and Jonesy exchanged glances, proud of their decision to join forces with such resilient and brave individuals. In minutes, the arched gateway loomed high above them and the daylight shone through, revealing nothing in the fifteen-foot-long passageway. A doorway was cut into the stone to the left and right, serving as a means to climb to reach the wall walks.

  “We need to get these gates shut,” Peter stated, looking at the hollows in the ground for the heavy bolts to drop in.

  “Wait, not yet. I want to kill the stragglers so if we need to head back to the boat, we don’t have a welcoming committee waiting here for us on the other side,” DB explained. “Sam, you’re up!”

  On their journey, a dozen had caught sight of the group and staggered across the open fields, seeking prey no less eagerly than the buzzards which circled overhead. Sam picked most of them off and those that got too close were hacked apart by the members hiding in the pitch black doorways.

  “Get the bodies out of the way,” Jonesy whispered, dragging a zombie outside of the grounds.

  The rest followed the direction and they piled them at the foot of the walls. It reminded Sam of a painting he had seen of the siege of Constantinople, but he couldn’t remember the name of the artist. Soldiers had lain dead in their hundreds as the defenders successfully repelled the attack, ladders had been knocked down and arrows rose from the ground and corpses like feathered decorations.

  “Keep to the shadows, I don’t want us to be seen,” DB slowly leaned around the corner.

  The upper bailey portion of the northern castle grounds were roughly four acres of open land, surrounded by the ten-foot-thick, forty-foot-high walls which would hopefully be their salvation. At every hundred feet, a tower rose from the structure to give a better firing angle to archers of the past. To their left stood the main watch tower; a hill mounted circular defensive construction that rose above even the golden cathedral cross. Beyond this was the main Keep and the L shaped living quarters which had been built many years later, in the thirteenth century. It resembled a loose figure-eight which tapered in the center to cut off the upper and lower grounds with the watchtower as cover. A swimming pool was buried in the ground, used by the Duke and Duchess before the world died, no doubt. Now it was dark and murky with algae blooms floating on the surface from lack of chemical treatment.

  “We have some sightseers,” said DB.

  “How many?” asked Jonesy, dreading an answer that would mean a potential suicide mission.

  “A few hundred, give or take,” DB grinned, “Who’s up for a turkey shoot?”

  “Peter, seal the gates,” Jonesy gave the command, “We take this place now.”

  The hinges groaned and creaked as the gate was closed to the outside world for the first time in months. The bolts dropped into the ground and Peter slid two more heavy duty latches across, reinforcing the barrier.

  “When we have cleared the grounds and gathered our belongings from the boat it would be a good idea to block this entrance with some vehicles. I doubt they could get through, but why take the chance?” John added.

  They already felt safer despite the fact they were sealed with hundreds of rotting cannibals, and those were the ones in the open. Who knew how many lurked in the cold and windy corridors of the castle itself.

  “We fucking made it!” Kurt punched the air and they all hugged and congratulated themselves in near silence. Honey ran back and forth, sensing the mood of the group and receiving as much attention as she could manage; there were so many hands reaching to stroke her she thought she was in dog heaven.

  “I saw the perfect firing position, follow me,” DB said and ducked through the northern doorway.

  The steps were wet and the stone was cold as they climbed. The passageway was narrow, designed to make any attacks up and onto the battlements as difficult as possible.

  “Look at that!” Sam announced, pointing at the wall.

  “What? I don’t see anything,” complained John with a snippy tone.

  Sam ignored him and ran his fingers along the furrows gouged into the stone, “Swords have been used in here,” he said with awe, the sounds of clashing steel and grunts of exertion created in his mind.

  John huffed and carried on, shaking his head. Sam looked hurt as Kurt followed and said, “I see them, mate, can you imagine what it would have been like fighting for your life in here?”

  “I know, it’s awesome. I’m sorry I annoyed grandad, I thought he might be interested,” Sam replied.

  “Don’t worry about him, he is just on edge. We are so close, but things could still go wrong,” Kurt explained and Sam nodded with understanding.

  DB stopped them at the top of the staircase to give them a warning, “Things are going to get dangerous. Once we start firing, every single one of them will be coming for us until they are fully dead, or we are. Me and Jonesy will provide covering fire, but our main focus will be on dropping as many of those fuckers as possible before they can reach the steps to get up here. Any that make it past will need you to take them out by hand. If anyone has any doubts, now is the time and we can still bail.”

  Each of them looked from face to resolute face. They had suffered unimaginable hardship to reach this point and to turn back now would be unthinkable, regardless of the coming battle.

  “Our family needs this place,” Sarah answered for them all and she made sure the two soldiers knew they fell within that category.

  “Ok, stay low,” Jonesy cautioned as they got into position.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  The two soldiers laid themselves on the stone, facing south towards the figures which had sensed the new arrivals. The clotted gurgling and groans rebounded within the high walls, seeming to come from all directions. Removing the suppressors, they got as comfortable as possible on the cold, hard wall and pulled their rifles in tight at the shoulder. Sam split the fully loaded magazines and placed them to the side of the soldiers within easy reach for reloading. The others separated themselves evenly to cover both sides of the walkway, blades at the ready and Kurt with his ever faithful hammer.

  “On my mark. Three, two, one, NOW!” DB cried out and the assault rifles sang their chattering song of leaden death.

  The horde of undead turned as one and began their advance on the survivors. Used to the life and death pressure, the soldiers remained calm as
they pulled the trigger and most shots found their mark. The newer turned were gaining faster so they focused their fire on those corpses, heads bursting with the impact of each slug. Kurt and John were competent enough with the grenades to use them as cover, and the small egg shaped lumps bounced at the feet of the approaching dead before detonating. Bodies were ripped asunder but the separate parts kept coming regardless. The group knew the grenades would be near useless at killing and were only hoping to slow the zombies down by a few more seconds for the soldiers to finish off.

  “They are gaining ground, this is going to become a real fight,” Jonesy shouted. The undead were closing the distance faster than the soldiers could kill them and some were breaking off for the steps which gave access to the walls.

  “Do we meet them as they reach the top of the stairs?” Kurt called out over the sharp cracks of the guns.

  “No, stay tight. We don’t want to split up,” DB replied without breaking his firing pattern.

  “Dad, throw the last grenades at the steps,” Kurt yelled and two more were lobbed.

  Several of the dead were already coming up the steps and the proximity of the blast threw them clear, falling in a heap to the ground below. The foam padded box was empty and now it was going to be hand to hand. Sam and Gloria didn’t have the luxury of quick reloads like the soldiers and would only delay the assault by a few moments. Bearings whistled and the shotgun bucked, coughing out fire and lead pellets at the monsters.

  “They are on the wall!” Peter called out unnecessarily.

  “Don’t panic, remember the way. Jump forward, strike quick and true, then get back,” John ordered.

  The first cadavers to take advantage of the lull in gunfire reached the gathered survivors. Slashing quickly, they were cut down and either slumped to the stone or fell from the wall to join the gathering mass below.