Monsterland (An Apocalyptic Horror)

by Shaun Whittington

  She put her knees up and he went down and began giving her oral, teasing her clit with his tongue. He winced a little as it appeared she hadn't showered on this day, but ignored the smell and the rancid taste. Even when she accidentally broke wind he continued. She apologised, but he ignored her and flipped her over. Her head was down and her arse was sticking up in the air. She thought this was when he was going to enter her, but she was wrong.

  His tongue entered her arsehole and she groaned as he did this whilst ramming his two fingers in her wet cunt. At last...he began to fuck her and gagged as the taste of shit hit his senses. What the hell was he thinking? Once he came inside her, both persons fell onto their backs and eventually slept.

  Marvin now went to the bathroom and had a pee then brushed his teeth, gagging after thinking about sticking his tongue in the rotund woman's anal cavity. He then returned to his bed, lay down, and was lost in thought.

  Snapping out of his hypnosis and thinking about the surreal fuck he had, despite brushing his teeth before going back to bed, he still had that taste in his mouth. He began to gag, turned to the edge of the bed and threw up. He watched helplessly as the smelly, lumpy puke hit the floor covering his iPhone. "Fuck." He turned back and stared at the ceiling.

  He wanted rid of her and gave her a poke in her side with his finger. She groaned, turned to her side and faced away from him. He slapped her backside and said, "Agnes, wake up."

  "What is it?" she moaned.

  "You need to fuck off." Marvin said bluntly. "Your bloke will be worrying where you are."

  She groaned, "Fuck him."

  "I'm serious." Marvin sat up, went to the living room to get his clothes and began getting dressed. He put on his blue jeans and grey T-shirt and rolled her off the bed.

  "For fuck's sake." Agnes stood up and was in a terrible state, still soused from the night before. "What's the hurry?"

  "I don't want your bloke coming round here and wondering where you are. Don't get me wrong, I could take him, but I just don't want the hassle."

  "Ah, fuck him." Agnes went into the living room to retrieve her clothes and began putting on her stained clothes, albeit clumsily. "It's not as if I haven't done this before."

  "Really?"

  She said with a smirk, "Why do you think the window cleaner has always got a smile on his face?"

  "What would your bloke do if he found out?"

  "He knows. He used to watch us."

  Marvin rubbed his head that was covered in very short grey hair, and said, "Just go."

  "Alright, you moaning cunt. Let me get my clothes on first."

  Marvin staggered over to his bedroom window and pulled back the net curtains to glare out into his street. "What the fuck?" Marvin grabbed a cigarette from the packet on the side table and sparked it up.

  Agnes walked over and stood by his side. "What's the matter?"

  Marvin didn't answer—he couldn't answer. He simply stared out into his street and saw the carnage unfold.

  Twenty yards to their left was a car that had crashed into a stationary vehicle on a drive and was on fire. But neither one of them had heard a single sound from earlier. Screams could he heard and a woman, opposite them, ran out of her flat and was wearing just her panties. She was followed by a male who seemed to be running after her. From the side, Marvin and Agnes could see two more people running down the street at breakneck speed and took down the woman. Agnes yelped in fright and placed her hand over her mouth.

  They both watched as the woman was being eaten, but the two attackers soon jumped back to their feet and ran away, leaving the woman lying there. More people ran down Marvin's street, thirteen in all, and two veered to their right as if they had seen something and threw themselves through a front room window, crashing through with ease.

  "Oh my God, what is happening?" Agnes screamed. "What is happening?"

  "Keep your voice down," Marvin hissed, now drenched with fright. He continued to stare and shook his head. "This is unbelievable."

  "What are we gonna do?" Agnes looked at Marvin for an answer. He almost felt sorry for her.

  His heart thumped the inside of his chest and was engulfed in panic. He had no idea what to do. All he could do was stand and watch more of the violence that was unfolding in his street. "Shit."

  He gazed out and saw the woman that had been attacked quickly rise to her feet. She looked possessed, not quite human, then ran away.

  Agnes was standing behind him. "What is going on?"

  "I've seen something like this in a film once," said Marvin. "It can't be real. This can't be real." He turned to Agnes and told her to go home. "Go back to your flat. Your partner will be worried. Leave me here. And make sure you barricade your door. Maybe this shit's on the news."

  "Haven't seen any TV since yesterday morning."

  "Me neither."

  "I'm too scared to go out," admitted Agnes, tears in her eyes.

  "I'll walk you." Marvin then turned to see the pile of vomit, knowing that his phone was underneath it somewhere. "And make sure you ring the emergency services when you get in."

  He walked her over to her door, and disappeared back into his own place once she knocked it. Once he closed his door, he looked through the spy-hole and saw hers opening, and being hugged by her partner. Their door soon closed, and Marvin dragged a table over towards his main door and sat down to watch the news.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Desperate for some kind of update on the progress, or capitulation, of the country, Gordon had left the basement once more to watch the news on the TV. It appeared that, despite the frightening scenes from outside earlier, everyone, including Stripy John, was overcome with intrigue to see if there had been any kind of progress.

  Gordon and Joan were naturally apprehensive but wanted to see what was happening to their country. Sue had also appeared in the living room to watch the TV, and Stripy John, although shaking with fear, was also present. The bodies and a stench was present in the living room, but the group were doing their best to ignore it.

  Through the cracks of the boarded-up living room window, John told the group that he would just listen to the TV and peer out of the cracks of the window to see if it was safe outside. He also told them that he had left the basement door open so if these things did turn up, it was just a quick run to the kitchen, and valuable seconds of opening the basement door wouldn't be necessary. Gordon smiled and patted John on the shoulder once he was told this, as it was good thinking by the man who had not reacted to this situation very well at all so far.

  The TV went onto the channel that it was last on, SKY News. Gordon had an assortment of news channels to choose from, but stuck to the channel that was being broadcasted from the London studios. It appeared that, despite what was happening, some parts of London hadn't been affected and that people were still trying to do their job.

  The channel came on the moment the editor of the Daily Mail was being interviewed by phone by Stephen Dixon, and it appeared, from what the editor was saying, that some places in London had already been quarantined, but the army was struggling to contain the 'problem'. When he mentioned the word problem, Gordon correctly assumed that the editor meant the hundreds of cannibals that were out there.

  It was no wonder they were struggling to cope, Gordon thought. This seemed to have come out of the blue, with no build-up or nothing. Of course the authorities were struggling to cope with the outbreak! A day ago they probably didn't know they had an outbreak of any kind. They weren't prepared for this. No one was prepared for this!

  The pasty-faced anchorman announced that they had received two more pieces of footage and advised the viewers that it will contain scenes of violence.

  The first scene was taken from the skies by a media helicopter, and the film showed hundreds of these things running through Soho's streets and entering buildings by force. John took a quick peep and made a nervous joke about stealth not being their strong point, but nobody responded.

  The secon
d scene was similar to the bus footage they had seen when they were all standing with the Hortons. A person was videoing from a third floor flat, and it showed a dozen or so Runners sprinting after a family down a street. The family, which consisted of a mother, a father and a teenage boy, were taken down. By the time the group of freaks backed off, the family had reanimated and quickly got to their feet and began running along with the rest of the group.

  Although promising to just listen and keep watch if anything was happening outside, Stripy John was now transfixed to the TV. "We've all seen horror films, right?" he spoke. "So what would you class them as?"

  "We've already gone through this the other day," Joan sighed. "They're humans that have been infected."

  Gordon rubbed his face, exasperated that there was no positive information on the crisis, and although this virus was spreading, speedily, there had been no reports on attacks outside the UK.

  Gordon said, "I don't think this thing is gonna last long."

  "No?" Sue spoke up. "What makes you so sure?"

  "We're an island. I'm sorry, but if I was living in the USA or even France, I'd be happy for the whole of the UK to turn on one another, so long as it didn't affect my country..."

  "So what are you saying?" John asked.

  "Well, I'm guessing that once the population of these things outweigh the uninfected human population, then they're gonna starve. They're eating us, albeit briefly because of the quickness of the infection, but they're still eating, and I don't think they're the type of things to sit down and eat cheese and crackers if no more meat is on offer."

  Said John, "Unless they turn to animals. That could keep them going."

  "Shit." Gordon shook his head. "I never thought of that."

  "If they were attacked, I wonder if animals can be infected?" Sue queried no one in particular.

  Joan raised her eyebrows in surprise; that was something she had never thought of. "That's a very good point."

  Gordon continued to watch TV, and was shaking his head with exasperation.

  "Why is it just London?" Gordon seemed unhappy that most of the footage that had been shown on TV had been London-based. "Isn't the rest of the country important enough to be given a mention?"

  "Relax, Gordon," said Joan. "They just show the footage that they're given."

  "I know, but what about Liverpool, Swansea, Dundee or Stoke?"

  "That's it," snapped John. "It's a foregone conclusion that we're all fucked.

  "Right, everyone." Gordon clapped his hands together. "We've been in here long enough. Back in the basement."

  Chapter Eighteen

  Gordon sat on the hard floor, thinking of his job, Gretna, and if any of his friends and relatives were still okay. He doubted it. He was sure that he would have been infected by now if he was still in his place in Gretna, and he was only unharmed at the moment thanks to his Nan's funeral. Although he and the group had experienced frightening episodes in the middle of the Pennines, he knew it was nothing compared to what was happening in cities and towns across the UK, if the footage on the TV was anything to go by.

  The light was on in the basement, and Gordon could see just how despondent everybody was. John was rocking back and forth, lost in his own little world. Sue Hart was also staring into space, which was not surprising after losing her seven-year-old son, and Joan looked shattered, on the verge of tears.

  "This is doing nobody any good, being cooped up in here," John spoke out.

  "If you wanna go and watch more TV or go to the bathroom, I'll come with you to keep a lookout." Gordon was sympathetic to the cabin fever some individuals were feeling. "Joan did say earlier that we should use the amenities of the house before the power goes, but we need someone to keep guard."

  "Do you think the power will go out?" asked Sue.

  "Yes."

  "If they don't get this thing under control, this country will be going to the shitter," Joan said coldly.

  "I'm scared," John blurted out.

  His short confession silenced the group and Gordon decided to appease John. "We're all scared, John. Every single one of us. Hang in there, buddy."

  His eyes were glassy and nodded his head, almost as if he was thanking Gordon for his kind words. Stripy John got to his feet and brushed the back of his trousers.

  "Going somewhere?" Joan questioned with suspicion.

  "I need the toilet," confessed John.

  Gordon pointed to the two buckets in the corner. "I'll empty them down the sink before the evening kicks in."

  John cleared his throat and said, "No; I mean, I really need to go."

  Gordon got to his feet and grabbed the shotgun. "Okay, let's go."

  "I can go on my own, you know." John looked to be a little agitated, and ran his fingers through his short grey hair. "I'm not a fucking baby."

  "Relax." Gordon held his hand up, showing John his palm. "If ever anyone wants a number two and use the bathroom upstairs, I'm gonna go with them and stand by the door. It's just because I've got the gun."

  Joan said, "We all still have a knife that we took when this first broke out, don't we?"

  Gordon nodded.

  "Then let him go on his own. I'm sure he'll be fine."

  Sue agreed with Joan's statement. "We haven't heard anything for ages. I don't think anything's gonna happen in the next ten minutes. Even if it did, that would be rotten luck."

  "I'm not stupid," John spoke up. "If I hear anything when I'm in the bathroom, I'll stay put."

  Gordon looked at Joan and Sue. Noticing this, John bellowed, "For Christ's sake, I'm forty-six! Who made you leader of the group anyway? I'm fucking going!"

  "Shut your lips," scolded Gordon. "Keep the noise down."

  Stripy John stormed off and Gordon walked behind him.

  John turned around and snarled, "You're not coming with me. I can have a shit without adult supervision."

  "I was just going to bolt the door after you'd left."

  John lowered his head apologetically. "Oh."

  "You still got your knife?"

  John laughed and pulled it out. "It's just a steak knife."

  "It'd do the damage, if need be."

  "Probably." John then looked back at the group. "I won't be long."

  He turned and went through the door and into the kitchen. Gordon bolted the door behind him. Gordon then went back down the steps and asked if the girls wanted a drink of water, or even a hot beverage.

  "I could murder a coffee," Joan said.

  Sue smiled. "Me too."

  "Fine," Gordon chuckled. "I'll make four coffees. I'll make John one."

  Gordon left the basement, went into the kitchen and switched on the kettle. His nose twitched as the smell of the decomposing bodies from the living room tortured his snout.

  We're gonna have to get rid of them eventually.

  With the shotgun in his hand, he checked the ground floor and then took a look outside whilst waiting for the kettle to boil. Everything seemed clear, and the fog had now disappeared. He went back into the kitchen and waited for the kettle. He made the drinks and headed to the basement, leaving the shotgun in the kitchen. He had forgot to ask what the girls took in their drinks and just made coffee with milk in all four cups. He returned to the basement and put the cups on the floor.

  "He's taking his time," said Joan, referring to John.

  Gordon looked at his watch. John had been away for eleven minutes so far.

  "I'll see if he's okay."

  Gordon exited the basement once again, took the shotgun from the kitchen, and called John from the bottom of the stairs. "John; I've made coffee."

  Gordon called a second time before pulling his T-shirt over his face to reduce the stench coming from the living room. There was no response, so Gordon crept up the stairs, and as soon as he made it to the landing he gently knocked the door.

  "John?"

  He gently knocked the door again, and he was beginning to get an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. He to
ld himself that he would knock one more time before going in.

  He knocked. There was no verbal reaction. He went in.

  "Oh John."

  Gordon gazed helplessly at John as he lay in an empty bath, eyes closed, with both wrists cut downwards. He had bled out copiously. His Everlast T-shirt was covered in blood, and with his arms resting on his lap, the crotch of his trousers was saturated in crimson and there was plenty of blood slowly trickling its way to the plughole.

  Gordon crouched down and felt his throat getting tighter. He placed his hand on John's head and said with sorrow coated in his speech, "I'm sorry, John. I hope you're in a better place."

  Gordon thought that John would have stayed strong for the possibility of being reunited with his two girls. It appeared that the hope of seeing his daughters had disappeared, and that the father of two was certain that he was never going to see them again. Gordon was unsure whether John thought that he was going to be infected eventually, or had a strong feeling that his girls had already been infected.

  For the time being, Gordon decided to leave John in peace. He said a prayer, then left the bathroom and slowly trudged down the stairs. He was heading back to the basement.

  The girls were about to receive some sad news.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Apart from a little wind trying to sneak into the cracks of the boarded-up living room window, Gordon felt that the house and outside was serene. Before breaking the bad news to the girls about John, he walked into the living room to peer through the cracks. His eyes were greeted by beautiful green hills, the sun beating down. The only thing that ruined the scene was the crashed jeep on the road belonging to Sue, which was also decorated inside with her son's brains.

  Gordon shook his head. It was an awful experience seeing her son die like that, and it must have taken a lot of guts for Joan to take him out. It was guts that he never had.