by Ricky Fleet
“She’s hard work at times, but her pussy and mouth work well enough.” Mike nodded towards her.
“Fuck you!”
“Later, maybe,” Mike replied, her tight jeans nullifying his earlier disgust, “And if you’re lucky, I won’t pass you around the block.”
“Asshole!”
“Mum would have loved her,” Craig chuckled.
“I know,” Mike laughed, “But she was just as fucking crazy!”
“At least the bitch is dead now.”
“Amen to that,” Mike said with a smile and toasted the group.
Matt and Hombre were sat by the door. Although drinking too, they sipped sparingly at the liquor and were constantly looking out of the door at the men who reported back with the comings and goings of the different wings.
“So how does this place work?” Mike asked and Craig invited him to an old drawing encased in a picture frame on the wall.
“This used to be the governor’s office until I replaced him. He was useful for a while, making all the guards stand down when we rose up and showing me how this place runs. He served another purpose after I killed him.”
The schematic showed a design similar to a spoked wheel. A central building was the base of operations for the prison warders and administration, while the four ‘spokes’ were the three storey cell blocks. Guard towers were positioned in the walls to give a full field of vision not only to the outside, but every side of each wing. If anyone managed to miraculously remove their window bars, the tower would see them before they could climb down and make a run for the fence and walls.
“And over there are the greenhouses and crop rows,” Craig added, pointing to the east, “We grow as much as we can but it will never be enough. Then you have the football field which will in time be used for the same purpose.”
“I was wondering how you were managing to feed five hundred people,” Mike admitted.
“Fortunately, we have regular raiding parties, but it’s been slim pickings in the local area recently. We’ll be needing to venture further out when the spring arrives but we have enough to get through the winter stashed away. The paedophiles and scum will end up going hungry to make sure we all eat well.”
“Fuck them,” Matt growled from the door.
“My thoughts exactly,” Craig agreed. “Hombre, would you mind heading to the kitchen and asking chef to knock up something for us? Tell him to use the decent meat for now.”
“You got it, boss,” he replied and left.
“What do you mean decent meat?” Debbie asked.
“Never mind for now, I’ll explain when you have settled in properly. While we wait for dinner, tell me everything about how you survived this hell, and on foot no less with only a sexy lady and fat cunt to keep you company.”
“Don’t call him that.” Mike leaned forward menacingly. “He’s alright and would’ve made a great addition to your crew.”
“Sorry, mate. I didn’t realise you liked him that much,” Craig said, holding his hands up by way of apology.
“That fat cunt has killed dozens, if not hundreds of zombies by hand,” Mike explained, remembering the stacked corpses at the convent.
“Really?” Craig’s eyes went wide with surprise.
“Yeah, really. Anyway, it all happened like this…” Mike told his biased version of Kurt and the survivors and their ill treatment of the pair. With each passing minute, Craig’s face grew deeper shades of scarlet as his rage seethed.
“They’re fucking dead. I’m going to kill each and every one of them with my bare hands!” Craig could barely speak properly through his fury.
“How do you propose we do that? If they made it to the castle they will be completely safe from the dead and living. The whole thing was designed to keep people out.”
“Mike, we have some of the best burglars in the country locked up with us. If there is a way in, we’ll be able to find it.”
“Good point,” Mike conceded.
Craig turned to Matt, “Get me Pesci.”
“Who’s Pesci?” Mike asked as the big Scotsman left the room.
“His real name is Harry Stone, but we call him Pesci after Joe Pesci the actor. He’s short, but a complete psycho just like Joe’s film characters.”
“And what is he going to be able to add to the discussion?” Mike was confused.
“Nothing, but he is like a ghost. I’m going to send him to do some reconnaissance on the castle. If they’re there, he will come back and let us know, then we can plan a surprise for the bastards.”
Mike and Debbie looked at each other with excitement. They would give anything for revenge on the group which had abused them so badly.
“While we wait for dinner, I’ll show you to your room so you can relax. People called me nuts for setting one up for you, but who’s laughing now, eh? I knew you would come eventually.”
“Thanks, Craig,” Mike bearhugged his older sibling and the reunion was postponed while preparations were made.
****
Mike pushed the door closed and took in their ‘suite’. It was basically just an office which had been stripped out and fitted with a selection of furniture and a brand new double bed. The bed itself had been claimed from a local store and the crisp, white linen smelled divine.
“I’m in Heaven,” Debbie purred, taking off her coat and laying down.
“Get your ass off the bed, you’re filthy and stink like an old tramp,” Mike growled, pulling her off with more aggression than was necessary.
“So fucking what?” she hissed. “We can just get someone to bring fresh sheets.”
“You need to get that mouth of yours under control before you wear out your welcome,” Mike said through gritted teeth.
“Let’s not forget you only made it here because of me!” Debbie shrieked. “Without me you’d be still hiding like a fucking pussy in the pub with your bitch ex.”
Twisting in a rage, Mike lashed out with a backhanded slap which sent her sprawling back onto the bed. Shaking her head to get rid of the stars behind her eyes, she flew at him. Sharp fingernails raked his face, causing him to cry out in pain. Screaming like a banshee, she tried to gouge at his eyes before driving a knee into his groin which ended the fight. Dropping to the floor, he curled into a foetal ball and hugged his damaged testicles. The pain of the following kicks and slaps didn’t register over the sickening, white hot agony between his legs. It felt like a swarm of rats were trying to eat their way both into, and out of, his crotch.
Standing back, Debbie drew in ragged breaths. Her assault had burned itself out and the sweat poured from her furrowed brow.
“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but you shouldn’t have hit me,” she whispered, kneeling and stroking Mike’s hair.
Unable to respond, he could only make inarticulate gurgling sounds as she started to push his legs down to reach the zipper.
“Don’t fight it,” she murmured, aroused by the pain she had inflicted, “I’ll make it all better.”
Mike was paralyzed by waves of nausea which radiated from his bruised genitalia. Her less than gentle touch triggered a fresh burst of agony as she wrestled his trousers down a few inches. Taking his flaccid member in her hand, she thrilled at the absolute control she wielded over him in this crippled state.
“Debbie knows just what you need,” she sighed, smiling at his pain contorted face, “And this time I won’t bite it off, but if you ever touch me again?”
Leaving the question unanswered, she slipped his manhood into her mouth and gave it a gentle nip to show what could have been.
****
“Bravo,” Hombre complimented Debbie, “That was quite a show.”
“Well, thank you,” she replied, smiling broadly.
“How long have you been stood there?” Mike croaked.
“The whole time,” Hombre replied, “I thought you were going to kill each other, but then that little hellcat knocked you on your ass and started blowing you. It would’ve been rude to i
nterrupt.”
Face flushing with shame, Mike desperately tried to pull up his trousers. In truth, once Debbie had begun, most of the pain had been forgotten. But now it reasserted itself as the fabric pressed against his tender scrotum.
“Don’t be embarrassed, you’re in prison,” Hombre remarked, stepping forward to help him to his feet.
“Easy for you to say, you haven’t just had your dick out for all to see,” Mike fired back.
Hombre shrugged nonchalantly, “As I said, you’re in prison. Showers are communal here, buddy, so we all get an eyeful. Besides, we aren’t all lucky enough to have a beautiful lady willing to suck our dicks.”
“Oh, stop it,” Debbie gushed, waving a hand at him, “We’re basically man and wife. What sort of girl would I be if I wasn’t able to satisfy my man?”
Mike couldn’t believe what he was hearing but was in no condition to argue and cause another fracas. He still felt weak as a kitten from the strike and subsequent orgasm, so he just ignored her.
“Anyway, I came to tell you dinner was ready,” Hombre informed them. “Did you want to freshen up first? I can get some hot water brought up, or if you can wait we have a bath I can have filled?”
“A bath sounds divine,” Debbie squealed, skipping over to Hombre and linking arms, “Lead on, good sir.”
As Mike followed behind the shaven headed hard man and his psychotic love interest, he had never felt so pathetic. Walking past the drab, grey walls, they mirrored his own bruised ego. The bitch would pay for her disrespect, he vowed, staring daggers at the back of her head.
****
At the dining table, Mike had been introduced to more members of Craig’s inner circle. Tasked with the more mundane tasks, they all had a part in ensuring the smooth running of the prison. The meal had not been Michelin starred quality, but it was plentiful and hot. Craig sighed with contentment and toasted everyone’s health. He didn’t miss the animosity between his brother and Debbie, who had seated herself next to Hombre.
“To Craig,” Matt declared, raising his whiskey, “Long live the king!”
“Fuck off, you big meathead,” Craig roared with laughter and touched glasses.
“Respect where respect is due,” Matt continued, deadly serious, “You keep us safe and provide for what we need, but rule with a fist of iron. Sounds like a king to me.”
“Then find me a crown next time you go raiding,” Craig said, wiping tears from his eyes.
“You got it, boss,” Matt replied.
An extra place had been set in front of an empty chair and the meal had quickly gone cold. A servant leaned in and asked Craig if he should take it for reheating and with a nod it was removed.
“Who normally sits there?” Mike asked.
“James Wallace, but we call him JR. He’s head of entertainment,” Craig replied and everyone chuckled.
“Entertainment?” Debbie was nearly bouncing in her seat with excitement.
“All will be revealed in good time,” Craig replied mysteriously.
“I love this place,” she giggled, leaning to the side and embracing Hombre.
A man of firm principles, he gently removed her and pushed her away while looking directly at Mike. She was too delighted to complain at being rebuffed and clapped enthusiastically at the surprise to come. Mike nodded at Hombre in respect and then met his brother’s eyes. Unspoken words passed between them and they would discuss the matter later.
“I was meaning to ask something. Out in the yard, there were a small group who didn’t seem all too pleased with what you were doing,” Mike stated.
A dark expression passed over Craig’s face as he spoke, “That would be the Fowler brothers. They’re nasty bastards and would be running the place if I hadn’t got in first and murdered half of their men.”
“So why keep them alive?” Mike asked. “Surely it would be safer to kill them too?”
“They run the east wing and do a damned good job. They know they don’t have the muscle to make a move on me which is why they limit their disrespect to a few filthy looks.”
“Maybe it’s time for another lesson?” Hombre remarked, cracking his fingers.
“Maybe…” Craig replied. “I’ll give it some consideration.”
“I’m happy to give it to them,” Hombre added enthusiastically.
“I know you are,” Craig laughed, “Bloody hell, mate. I swear all you want to do is fight and fuck.”
“What else is there to do?” Hombre replied with a wry grin.
“Fair point, well made,” Craig declared, “Look, at the very least I will set up a bare knuckle with one of the other cons. I’ll dig out a decent prize for the winner and loser so at least the other poor bastard gets something for his trouble.”
“You act like they don’t stand a chance,” added Debbie, sidling up against the fighter once again.
“Maybe if they had a gun, and Hombre was asleep, with both hands tied behind his back, then they may be able to take him on,” Craig explained and the room erupted with laughter.
“You’re too kind, boss.” Hombre was humbled by the statement. “But you could take me out any day.”
“No chance, mate. The only man who may have a chance would be Matt,” Craig nodded to the Scotsman, “He is the only person I know who can kill a zombie with a single headbutt. A man too, if he’s in the wrong kind of mood.”
Matt ignored the compliment, but Hombre nodded his agreement, “Even I wouldn’t want to take one of those from you.”
“I don’t fight for fun,” he answered bluntly and would say no more on the matter.
A man bustled in the room and greeted everyone. Squat and solid, with a shaved head and goatee, Mike wondered if it was the go to look for dangerous men inside. After shaking Mike and Debbie’s hands firmly, he sat down and stared at his empty place.
“Food’s being reheated,” Craig explained, “How are the preparations?”
“Everything’s ready,” JR said proudly, “This is going to be a night we won’t forget.”
“Sounds good. If we give it an hour for you both to get cleaned up properly, I’ll come and collect you,” Craig said to Mike and Debbie.
“Are you going to wash my back for me?” she asked Mike, fluttering her eyelids.
“You’ll be lucky if I don’t drown you,” he muttered and her face reddened.
“Maybe I’ll ask Hombre,” she mocked, “I’ll bet he wouldn’t pass up the chance to get those firm hands on me.”
Hombre backed away and shook his head, not wanting any part of the fractious relationship. This kind of trouble could lead to all manner of death and mayhem when alpha males were forced to compete. The last thing he wanted was to upset Mike, and by extension, his brother Craig.
“Take her to the bathroom,” Craig ordered one of the servants, “I want a word with my brother.”
With a final pout, she turned and followed, swinging her hips to tease them.
“Fuck me, she’s hard work,” Craig proclaimed.
“You have no idea,” Mike grunted.
CHAPTER 8
“Guys, are you sure they’re all dead?” Kurt asked his boys and they nodded enthusiastically.
“A few were still twitching but we killed them while collecting the arrows,” Sam replied.
Kurt paused for a moment in front of the group, thinking.
“I want everyone to spend a few minutes just walking around the grounds. It will give you a chance to desensitize a little before we start moving them,” Kurt explained and with much reluctance and grimacing, the others moved off.
Kurt waved Alina over as she made to follow. “Can I get your help with the swimming pool quickly?”
“Of course,” she answered with a frown. It wasn’t exactly the time for a few laps.
Walking north through the grounds, she took the time to point out the heating oil building. Peeking inside, Kurt could see the drain lever at the base of the tank and asked one of the groundskeepers to fetch a few buckets
. He ran off to comply and they continued on.
“I don’t think we will be using it any time soon,” Alina stated, looking down into the green murk of the pool.
Kurt had to agree. The vile algae swirled around and hands rose from the water, flesh dripping from months of submersion. A thin layer of ice on the surface cracked as the zombies waded towards the pair.
“I was hoping to empty it and burn the bodies in the pit,” Kurt said with disappointment, “Now it looks like we have to toss them from the walls which will take more time.”
“Why not open the top gate and drag them out quietly. Most of the zombies are on the western side and the town itself,” Alina suggested.
“Let’s take a look.”
Climbing the steps and peering over the wall, they could see about twenty zombies close enough to worry about. Some were recognizable as those who had attacked Stephen earlier. A few beat their hands uselessly against the walls creating dull, wet slaps and leaving green smears.
“There are too many,” Alina sighed, “That’s a shame.”
“Not necessarily,” Kurt replied, motioning for Sam to join them.
Racing up the steps and showing none of the awkward gait he’d had before the apocalypse, he said, “What’s up, Dad?”
“How much ammo do you have?”
Sam dug deeply into his pockets and pulled out a mix of steel and sharp stone, “Forty or fifty.”
“Can you destroy those things while we collect the bodies?” Kurt pointed down at the undead, “If we can buy some time it means we can quickly drag them out without being attacked. Some of the less sprightly members of the group won’t be able to climb the steps carrying a corpse.”
“Leave it with me,” Sam declared and cupped the first bearing.
Kurt and Alina joined the others and explained what they were trying to do. The faces staring back were a mixture of determined and nauseous, with some visibly gulping to hold back the rising bile. Their eyes pleaded for reprieve, but Kurt was unsympathetic.
“The cold has slowed the rot. If we were doing this in the summer, it would be a hell of a lot worse. The maggots and flies would be swarming,” he explained and ignored the vomiting it caused.
