by Ricky Fleet
“Oh, no,” Denise groaned as they rounded the south-western tower.
Screams tore through their thoughts and they could see the grounds were already infested with the dead. People were paralysed with fear and dying in great numbers.
“This is my fault!” Denise moaned, wracked with guilt, “If I hadn’t blocked them inside they would have followed us instead of finding their way here.”
“It’s not that,” interrupted a woman who was following, “There’s another small cemetery to the north of the castle which is used as an overflow for the church.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Patricia demanded.
“I didn’t think,” wept the woman, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s ok,” Denise reassured her, “This is a hellish situation.”
“They’re at the entrance,” Patricia warned, seeing the struggles taking place on the gravel path.
Arterial sprays were coating the light stone which was too much for some and they fled. Denise knew they had to keep going and used her weapon to clear a path, swatting through the walking corpses. Her fears about the rate of infection after seeing the old couple were further confirmed when partly eaten members of the public started to rise.
“Everyone through the gate!” she ordered, seeing a pair of zombies converge on her position.
Winding up, she let loose the pipe with a shout of rage and decapitated the first completely. Its head slammed into the wall and cracked open like a ripe melon, coating the limestone with green ichor. Carrying on the momentum of the swing she rotated it behind and over her head, bringing it crashing down onto the second zombie. Eyes burst from the sockets and it fell dead to the ground with a fresh green valley through its skull.
“What on earth is going on here?”
Denise turned to see a man approaching, finger raised and ready to wag or point in response to any annoyance.
“You need to get these people inside,” Denise declared, “We are being attacked by zombies.”
“Don’t be ridicu…” he started until catching sight of the decayed corpses.
“What’s your name?” Denise asked.
“I am Mr. Vincent and I oversee the running of Arundel Castle. Did you say they were zombies?”
“In the flesh.”
“Preposterous, they must be druggies,” he declared with a satisfied air, “And you are a murderer.”
“Look at the state of them!” Denise grabbed him and dragged him forward. “Do any drug addicts you know have rotting flesh and green blood?”
“Get your murdering hands off me!” Mr. Vincent shrieked.
Ignoring the pathetic man, Denise called over to Patricia, “See if there is someone working here who can help.”
“Gotcha.”
As Patricia ducked inside the courtyard, Denise reappraised the situation. The only reason they weren’t under sustained attack were the people desperately trying to reach the safety of the castle. Running the gauntlet of shambling horror, most were pulled down and devoured instantly. The window of opportunity to reach safety diminished with each member of the public that died and rose again, joining the growing swarm.
“This is Martin Sherlock,” Patricia reported, pushing him past the scowling Mr. Vincent.
“What’s going on?” he asked, turning to his boss, “Sir?”
“These crazy women claim we are under attack by zombies,” sneered Mr. Vincent.
Ignoring him, Denise spoke directly to Martin, “I need to hold the gate as long as possible, but I need weapons and hands to wield them. Do you have anything we can use?”
Looking at the slain figures on the ground, he pulled out a radio, “Lisa Ashdown, can you hear me?”
The radio came to life, “I hear you, what’s all the commotion outside?”
“Never mind for now, you’re on duty near the armoury, right?”
“Yes, why?”
Mr. Vincent grabbed him by the arm, “Don’t you dare!”
Staring into his hated superior’s eyes, Martin pressed the transmit button, “Grab anyone nearby and bring as many weapons as you can carry. Swords, maces, flails, anything.”
“You’re joking, right? They’re all priceless antiques.”
Mr. Vincent smiled smugly and folded his arms. At least one of his staff would be keeping their job this week.
“There are zombies at the gates. I know how that sounds but you just need to look out of the window. Remember we would always talk about the apocalypse during lunch break, well now it’s here.”
A new tone of excitement entered Lisa’s voice, “I’ll be right down, hold on.”
The grin died on Mr. Vincent’s face.
Larger groups had assembled outside of the grounds and tried to use their superior numbers to fight through the growing horde. Many were dying, but some would be able to make it to safety if they kept pushing. Denise and Patricia found themselves screaming, both as encouragement and as a way to draw some of the dead their way.
A clattering of metal caught their attention and a blonde guide came out from under the portcullis. Another woman and two burly men in tight t-shirts had joined her. Distributing the weapons, she had selected an African ceremonial spear, complete with decorative feathers.
“For range,” she explained with a firm nod, joining the row of defenders.
“Here they come,” warned Martin, readying himself with a broadsword.
It was a bewildering mix of bitten and uninjured humans, as well as the zombies all rushing forward. Trying to differentiate was impossible and within seconds all hell had broken loose. Lisa was jabbing at anything with rotten flesh and Martin was slashing at the groaning humans, using the sound and awkward movement to identify their true nature.
“There’s nothing more we can do, we need to fall back!” Denise shouted, smashing another head.
Lisa screamed and kicked out at a zombie which had bitten into her forearm, “Bastard!”
Martin hacked its head off and helped her to retreat into the castle. Passing under the suspended portcullis, a wide stone staircase waited, leading up into the main keep. It had been designed to make any assault more difficult, with the defenders raining death and destruction from on high.
Reaching the top of the stone steps, Denise bent over to catch her breath. “Martin, where’s Mr. Vincent? We need to know what part of the castle we can fall back to!”
Martin didn’t answer and Patricia grabbed her by the coat, pulling her away from danger. Martin swayed as if drunk, before falling down and laying still. The bitemark on the back of his neck had stopped bleeding and his body started to twitch and writhe on the floor. Lisa had fallen beneath him and when she turned to look at them, her eyes had taken on the vacant glaze of death.
“I’m sorry,” Denise said, crushing both of their skulls before turning and running deeper into the castle.
͠
Kurt held out his hands and both Patricia and Denise took them, “You really went through the ringer, didn’t you? You were so brave,” he said with a lump in his throat, giving them a squeeze.
“We did what we could, sweetheart,” Patricia responded with a catch in her voice, “I just wish we could’ve done more.”
“I just ran for my life and didn’t try to help anyone,” Kurt added with self-disgust.
“You saved your family, though,” Denise asserted, “And by retaking the castle from the dead, you may well have saved all of us from starvation too.”
“We have to find a way of getting to the food and holding the undead off long enough to bring it back first,” Kurt sighed.
“We can start planning tomorrow, honey. Until then, get yourself some rest,” Patricia finished. Standing up, she planted a kiss on his forehead and walked away.
“Sleep well, Kurt.” Denise winked and followed her friend.
Unable to fight it any longer, he closed his eyes and let the strong painkillers lull him into unconsciousness.
CHAPTER 11
“How l
ong will she be out for?”
“Long enough to get her where she needs to be,” Craig replied, “Don’t worry about it, Mike.”
A roar of joy broke out around the block and the brothers looked over the railing to see Connor fall. The zombies had been too numerous to fight on his own and the damaged ankle had sealed his fate. Sounds of tearing mingled with the screams and Craig spat down onto the writhing mass of inhuman bodies.
“That was quite a show, JR. Well done.”
“Thanks, boss.” JR winked and then turned to address the convicts, “Ladies and Gentlemen, it looks like the forces of good have once again triumphed. Can we have a moment of silence for the filthy child molesters who fought for your amusement tonight?” He bowed his head.
From the scaffolding platforms outside, the inmates whooped and hollered their refusal and he looked up with an evil grin.
“I thought not,” JR replied, then held his hands up for quiet,” And now a word from our sponsor.”
Craig stepped forward and looked at the crammed faces at the windows. “Firstly, a round of applause for the amazing work that went into tonight’s performance,” Craig bellowed and the ruckus commenced again.
JR stepped forward and bowed at the waist in appreciation.
“Now onto other business.” Craig’s words silenced them immediately. “As well as the booze, I am bringing Rape Night forward by three days. Everyone who is on the list see your representative and your selection will be delivered in the next hour.”
The excitement had reached fever pitch and Mike was in awe of the respect and control his older sibling wielded.
“Now fuck off and enjoy yourselves, you’ve earned it!”
With that the prisoners started to disperse. Prideful boasts about what each would do to their victims carried across the yard and Craig chuckled to himself. Most of them were already so drunk they would likely pass out before they could even get their trousers off. It would ease the burden on some of the captives at least, not that he really gave a shit.
“Take her to Wozniak, with my best wishes,” Craig nodded at Debbie.
“You two,” Hombre called in two underlings, “Drag her to D wing and give her to the wing boss.”
Taking an arm each, they threw it over their shoulders, stood her up, and left the room with her feet trailing.
“Hombre, you look like someone just pissed on your shoes,” Craig remarked, “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” he growled, “I’m off to do my final rounds before I collect my woman.”
Craig grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back, “When I ask you a question, you answer.”
Hombre glared at the restraining hand and Craig released him. When he looked up, his anger wasn’t directed at Craig, but Mike. “I think it’s bullshit how you’re throwing Debbie to the wolves just because she embarrassed you.”
“Slow down there,” Craig cautioned, “You’ve seen how she is and the way she was trying to play you off against my brother.”
“And did I do anything about it?” Hombre demanded.
“Of course not,” Craig replied, “Because you’re loyal. She would’ve played the same game with everyone until someone got themselves peeled. I wanted to stop the shit before it all kicked off.”
“Then why not just lock her up?” Hombre muttered and walked out of the room.
“Maybe he’s right,” sighed Mike.
“He’ll calm down,” Craig replied. “Now, little brother, do you want to see the ladies you could take home with you tonight?” He tried to sound like a show host and Mike shook his head.
“No, I’m knackered. I’m just going to hit the sack tonight.”
“Who’ve you put your name down for, Matt,” Craig asked as they headed back to the administration block.
“Rechtman’s daughter.”
“Fair enough,” nodded Craig, “She’s a good-looking girl.”
“I’ve put my name on every date from now on. She’s mine,” Matt declared and stopped, “Is that going to be a problem?”
Mike and Craig exchanged glances, before Craig replied, “Not at all. This place is yours as much as mine, buddy.”
“Good,” he grunted and ordered the guard to unlock the final gate.
“Here she comes now,” Craig acknowledged, pointing at a beautiful girl being pulled along forcefully.
“She can only be thirteen,” Mike remarked thoughtlessly, “I thought the prison hated paedophiles.”
Craig’s mouth went wide, but before he could intervene Matt had stepped over and slammed a brutal headbutt straight into Mike’s face. A starburst exploded behind Mike’s eyes and everything went black for a few seconds. Unable to see, he still felt the blood gushing from his nose.
“I’m blind,” he whimpered, holding up a hand to his face.
“Matt, what the fuck was that?” Craig bellowed, rushing over to Mike as he staggered in fear. “Don’t worry. Your vision will come back, it’s just your brain processing being hit that hard.”
“That was a warning tap,” Matt replied, “Brother or no, the next time he calls me a nonce, I’ll kill him.”
“He didn’t mean it like that,” Craig hissed furiously, pinching the bridge of Mike’s nose in an effort to stop the bleeding.
“I heard what I heard,” growled the Scotsman, “You know where I’ll be if you want to try and punish me.”
“It was just a misunderstanding,” Craig called out as the big man dragged the young girl out of sight into his room.
“I can see a bit now,” Mike said shakily.
“I told you it would be ok, your brain just went into shock for a few seconds. It’s not every day you get hit by someone with a concrete head,” Craig explained, wiping at the blood on his brother’s chin.
“I’m sorry for all the hassle today,” Mike muttered, “This wasn’t how I expected things to go.”
Craig bearhugged him, “Don’t sweat it. You’ll soon get used to how things work in here.”
“Or I’ll be murdered in my sleep.”
Craig supported Mike as he swayed drunkenly from the blow, “Don’t talk rubbish. Now, let’s get that nose straightened, shall we? I can’t have an ugly brother walking around, just think of my reputation.”
Staggering down the corridor in each other’s arms, one of the guards hurried off to rouse the doctor.
****
“Get undressed,” Matt said gruffly to the girl who was cowering in the corner.
“I don’t want to,” she sobbed.
Locking the door, Matt turned to her, “I said take those clothes off, now.”
“I’m only twelve,” she pleaded, tears streaming down her dirty cheeks.
“I didn’t ask how old you were,” Matt grunted and stepped towards her.
Shielding her face from the inevitable punch, she was shocked to feel nothing. Looking through her pitiful defence, she was shocked to see the man pull out a pink dressing gown.
“What are you doing?”
“Get undressed and clean yourself up,” Matt demanded, placing a bowl of steaming water on a small footstool near the robe.
“The others didn’t care if I was clean,” muttered the girl who had been through things no one should ever endure.
“I’m not like the others,” Matt replied, sitting in a chair facing away from her and picking up a book, “Now do as you’re told.”
“My name’s Clarissa,” she whispered, hoping that by humanising herself it would trigger some mercy.
“I know who you are,” he grumbled, not turning away from the novel.
Holding her face in her hands, she wept for what was to come. After a few minutes, the tears slowed, then stopped altogether. During the last assault a few days ago, something had called to her from inside her mind. It was a friendly voice, neither male of female in gender. Promising a beautiful world of marvel and magic, it explained that she need not stay in the evil world any more. The whispers started again as she stripped out of the soiled clothing
. Come with us and you will never need to see the bad men again.
“Ok,” she answered her inner voice.
“Ok, what?” Matt asked from the chair.
“Nothing,” Clarissa replied with a faraway smile.
Without being aware of her surroundings, she used the sponge to wash herself, soaking the floor with grimy water and suds. Towelling dry automatically, she pulled on the dressing gown and stood obliviously like a mannequin. Even when Matt stood and took her by the hand, she followed unconsciously.
“Tilt your head back and I’ll wash your hair,” Matt ordered and she sat down, leaning her neck against the wooden top rail.
Using another bowl, he shampooed the blonde locks which had been nearer brown with grease and dirt. Wrapping another towel around her head, he took her face in his hands and looked directly at her.
“You don’t need to be afraid, I’m really not like the others,” he said with a smile.
Clarissa nodded vacantly; her inner journey was nearing its destination. A place of majestic unicorns and fairies awaited, and she would be the young queen who would rule over them all. She would be a kind monarch and everyone would rejoice at her arrival. The celebratory feast would consist of strawberries, marshmallows, and melted chocolate. Her mouth watered at the imaginary meal to come.
“Clarissa?” Matt patted her cheek until her eyes focused.
“My kingdom needs me,” she whispered, trying to recapture the vision.
“Your mother and father need you more,” Matt replied.
“They can join me when I’m queen,” she said, eyes threatening to glaze over again.
Seeing her worsening mental state, he pinched the skin on her arm and she cried out at the sharp pain.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered, stroking the red blotch, “But I need you to stay with me.”
“I don’t want to,” Clarissa said, lip trembling.
“You’re safe now, don’t you understand?”
“That’s what the others said when they got me alone,” she replied with a shudder, “They did horrible things to me.”
“I know they did,” Matt answered, his own tears welling up, “But they’ll never touch you again. You’re going to stay with me from now on.”
