Ridgetown: Rising
A Ridgetown prequel
Philip Radford
www.philipradford.com
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Copyright - About the Author
Chapter 1
It was while my parents were away and I had the house to myself. I'd been watching programmes I'd recorded on TV so hadn't had any of the channels on live. I'd occasionally checked social media, just to be nosey as to what other people were up to, but hadn't really paid much attention. It was mostly the usual; A picture of someone's dog. Someone’s status just said, "This is crazy!". Pictures of someone who had fallen asleep at a party. Pictures of a fight in town.
I'd had a couple of drinks and called it a night around 3am. I switched the lights and TV off and headed to my room. I'd lived in the house all my life. My parents had bought it before I was born so, to me, it had always been home. It was a small bungalow when they'd bought it but over the years it had gone through a few transformations. Rooms had been made bigger and the attic had been turned into a second floor a few years back. As the rooms changed, so had the layout of the house. My bedroom had moved round the house a couple of times, now it was downstairs at the back of the house in what used to be the guestroom.
I negotiated my way to the bathroom, finding my way successfully in the total darkness due to my innate knowledge of the layout. The bathroom was next to my bedroom and had a small window that opened out onto the driveway that ran down the side of the house. While I was in there, the security light on the drive flicked on, lighting up the small patterned glass window. David, our neighbour next door, worked nights so it wasn't strange for him to walk down his drive, which was parallel to ours, and set the light off. Although, I'd never known him to work weekends before.
I stumbled into my room and stubbed my toe on the drawers just inside. I lifted my foot up to rub it and nearly fell over backwards. Clearly my 'couple of drinks' had slightly impaired my balance. I played it safe and rubbed my toes on the carpet. I hobbled over to the big window that overlooked the garden. It didn't open but the two smaller windows above it did.
I'd always found it hard to sleep in a room without a window open. I’d been told it was a mild form of claustrophobia but I just thought I got too hot at night.
As soon as I opened the window I heard the rain. Not heavy, just a constant light patter on the ground outside and the sound of it flowing down the gutter. I could also hear a scraping sound coming from the side of the house, it sounded like, David was dragging something down his drive. As long as it didn't keep me awake, I wasn't bothered what he was doing.
I used my foot to help navigate my way in the dark and headed over to my bed. When I was relatively confident I was there, I collapsed forwards onto it. Lying there, face-down on the cool covers, I thought about getting undressed but couldn't bring myself to get back up. My head span, ever so slightly, and my mind raced at one hundred miles an hour but I could feel sleep drawing me closer. The rain sounded hypnotizing and I could feel myself slowly slipping into unconsciousness.
A loud thud made me jump and woke me up.
I wasn't sure if I'd been asleep or just on the fringe of it. I then began to wonder if I'd dreamt the sound, until I heard it again.
It sounded like someone was throwing something wet at the bathroom window. Mildly annoyed, I ignored it and tried to get back to sleep.
Another thud was this time accompanied by the sound of breaking glass. I opened my eyes and jumped to my feet, confused and slightly panicked by the noise. I rushed to the bathroom and switched on the light. The small window was broken and glass had fallen into the sink below. The rain was coming in the hole, diluting blood that ran down the broken glass.
I dashed out of the bathroom and hurried to the kitchen, turning lights on as I went through the house. The kitchen door opened onto the driveway and, as I put my shoes on, my mind raced trying to process what was happening and struggling to decide on an emotion. I was angry at the window being broken but also worried about someone outside being hurt. I felt a little bit scared about what I was about to face. Had someone smashed the window out of spite? Was it an accident? Was it someone I knew? Were they just a random violent drunk?
I grabbed my set of keys from the bowl on the table and put the key in the door, pausing before I unlocked it. I ran back to my room and scanned for something that looked like it could do some damage, I settled on a bar from my dumbbell set. It was just over a foot of thick metal. I wondered whether I was being stupid or overreacting, I was fully aware that I had sobered up so didn’t think my judgment had been impaired. I decided to compromise.
I put on my black hoodie and held onto the end of the bar with the rest hidden up my sleeve, pressed against my forearm. This meant I wasn’t going out and instantly looking aggressive but if something did turn sour, I had something to back me up.
As I returned to the kitchen I could hear a car alarm going off down the street. Part of me hoped it was the vandal who had smashed the window and that they were leaving a trail of chaos in their path so that I wouldn’t have to deal with them. I unlocked the door, pocketed the keys and stepped out, instantly seeing a figure at the bottom of the drive near the garage. I cursed myself for leaving the gate open when I’d come home earlier that night.
It looked like a middle-aged man but not my next-door neighbour. This guy looked bigger and had dark hair that the rain had beaten down over his face. He swayed drunkenly in the darkness.
“Hey!” I spoke rather than shouted, wanting to give myself an air of authority rather than aggression. The last thing I wanted was a fight with this guy. “Did you smash my window?”
His head jerked up at the sound of my voice and he began to stagger towards me. He made a grumbling noise that made me feel uneasy. I grasped the bar tightly in my hand, still keeping it hidden.
“There’s blood on the glass, did you cut yourself?” I hoped it made me sound like I was empathetic as he raised one arm towards me.
After two steps towards me, he set off the security light which lit him up. His head was tilted downwards but I could still see some severe bruising on his face. His clothes were marked and torn and blood ran down the hand that hung loosely by his side. He looked like shit.
“You look like shit.” I let out a little laugh in an attempt to lighten the mood but it didn’t work.
I took a hesitant step back as he continued to stumble towards me.
“Look, I don’t know what your problem is but you look like you’re in a pretty bad way.”
He raised his head and I properly saw the damage that had been done to his face. There was a large gash on his forehead that was surrounded by bruising and swelling, and his eyes looked glazed. His mouth was bloody and a huge tear on his left cheek revealed the inside of his mouth. As he opened and closed his mouth I could see the exposed muscles contracting.
“Whoa! Stay there!” He looked like he had been in one hell of a fight and I was suddenly very glad at my decision to bring the bar. I let it slide into my hand and held it up to show him. “I don’t wanna use this but you’re not exactly giving me a relaxed vibe.”
My words had no effect and the gap between us had closed to a few feet.
I heard the gate rattle and turned to see another figure shuffling towards me. This was a young woman who looked to be in an equally bad way. Her hair looked matted with mud or blood, it was hard to tell. She was wearing a cow print Onesie with bare feet implying
she’d been at home but she was covered in scratches and bruises, her Onesie stained with blood, lots of blood. Her right ankle was clearly broken but she still seemed to be putting all her weight on it as she moved.
“Who the hell are you?” I didn't get a reply.
Behind me, the man moaned loudly and I span around just as he lunged towards me. I grabbed his arm and held the bar up against his other shoulder to hold him back but he forced himself forwards and tried to bite me. I pushed him back and he stumbled but stayed on his feet. I glanced behind me and the woman was still coming forwards, snarling like a feral animal. The man closed the gab between us again so I kicked him hard in the centre of the chest, sending him crashing down to the floor. I looked at the girl who was unfazed by what had just happened and continued her approach.
The man had clumsily got back to his feet and the two of them had me backed up against the house. They moved unnaturally and it was clear something was very wrong with them. I thought about clubbing them both on the head but was worried about killing them. The bar was heavy enough to cause some real damage, not to mention the fact these two already looked like they had been hit by a bus.
The front door was still wide open so I decided to make a dash for it. I ducked and sidestepped the girl. I sidestepped back so I was behind her and as she slowly turned I kicked as hard as I could, knocking her into the man and bowling them both over onto the ground. I dashed to the front door and stepped inside. As I turned to close the door I noticed smoke coming from one of the houses down the road and the windows glowed a faint orange that was unmistakably fire.
I shut the door and rested against it for a second. I didn’t know what to do, my eyes darted around the kitchen before settling on the phone. I grabbed the phone off the wall and dialed 999. As soon as I heard the engaged tone my heart sank. I hung up and dialed again. A part of me wasn’t surprised when I got the engaged tone again. I went into the living room and switched the TV on, flicking straight to the news channel. I slumped down onto the couch and let the bar fall from my hand. It showed riot police in London being pushed back by a large mob of people looking a lot like the two on my drive. I grabbed my phone off the table to check my social media apps. I scrolled through people’s statuses, the one’s I’d ignored earlier. The picture of the fight in town was actually a scene allot like the one on the TV at the moment. The ‘This is crazy’ status had over fifty comments talking about people going crazy in their area and attacking other people.
As I was reading, I was picking out snippets of what the reporters on the news were saying.
Riots. Attacks. Mobs. Biting. Infection.
There was one word that the news hadn’t used that people were saying on the internet. One word that scared, but didn’t surprise me, after my encounter outside.
Zombies.
Chapter 2
I started to panic.
I felt my heart beating fast against my chest and a wave of cold sweat ran over my body.
My mind went completely blank and I sat in the living room staring blankly at the floor between the TV and the phone in my hand.
I had to ring my parents, they were in Scotland. In a town called…
Erm…
Dammit! I wish I’d paid more attention. At least I knew they were in Scotland. Or was it Wales?
Dammit! I really wish I’d paid more attention.
I brought up my Mum’s mobile number and pressed the call button. A few seconds of silence were followed by three beeps. I looked down at the phone to see a ‘call failed’ message. I tried again three more times but got the same message.
I tried ringing my Dad’s mobile and tried both numbers again on the house phone but just got the same three beeps.
I went back onto the internet and in the last few hours there had been an explosion of messages and updates. It was hard to make sense of what people were talking about on the small screen of my phone so I decided to get my laptop out.
I opened the door to the hallway to go to my bedroom and was met by the sound of a horrible groaning sound.
I froze on the spot, thinking one of those things had made it inside the house. I listened to see if I could pinpoint where the sound had exactly come from.
It was the sound of the rain that made me realise the groan had floated in through the bathroom window, reminding me that those two things were still outside. I had just started to relax when I heard the front door slam open, followed by a loud thud.
I knew straight away what it was. I hadn’t locked the front door when I came back in. Those things on the drive must have followed me and opened the door. The thud told me that at least one of them was inside, but it had been outsmarted by the step.
I couldn’t see the kitchen from where I was, for a moment I didn’t move. I waited and listened.
“Hello?” I called out hesitantly, hoping that whoever had stepped into the house was human.
I let out a laugh.
I surprised myself at how quickly I had come to terms with being confronted with the undead. I was stood in my house praying that a zombie hadn’t fallen through the unlocked front door. Did I really accept the situation or was I still in shock? Was it stupid of me to assume that those things outside were zombies? I'd always felt frustrated watching zombie movies that people hadn't instantly known what a zombie was when confronted with one. It seemed to be the main reason so many people died, not believing what they were seeing and not reacting to it fast enough.
A sickly moan echoed through the house and a wave of fear instantly washed over me. If I was in some kind of calm-like state of shock, that horrible sound shook me out of it.
I felt panic starting to set in. My breathing got quicker and my heart started beating against my chest so hard it hurt.
I needed to do something and quick. I needed to kill it.
I clenched my fist and was surprised not to feel the metal bar still in my hand.
Where was it?
I looked round the room frantically and saw it on the floor next to the couch. I vaguely remembered dropping it when I had turned on the TV. I was about to dart forward to grab it when the man from outside stumbled into the living room.
My adrenaline must have kicked in because I suddenly felt slightly excited. Unbelievably scared, but with a hint of excitement.
I ran straight towards the man who was stood blocking the doorway to the kitchen and kicked him square in the stomach. Outside I’d been a bit hesitant about hurting these people and had kicked the man and the woman with more of a pushing motion.
This time, I didn’t give a crap.
The man flew backwards into the kitchen, slamming his back against the solid kitchen surface. His head whipped backwards and he crumpled to the floor, but as soon as he hit the floor he started to get back up.
I turned and grabbed the bar off the living room floor, I rushed towards the man and swung the bar as hard as I could. It connected with his head and I felt his skull crack, the sound like snapping a piece of chalk.
I lifted the bar and swung it down again. Hitting his head near my last strike, his skull caved in and thick, dark blood started pouring out.
It was like cutting the strings on a puppet as all the tension in his body left and his body relaxed, crumpling to the ground.
The blood began to pool on the floor as I stared at the dead body in the kitchen. I didn't blink as I watched, scared incase it moved again.
Heart still thumping, I crouched and moved closer to the body. I held the bar over my head, prepared for another strike at the first sign of movement.
I stood over the body and inspected the damage to his head. I could see what I assumed was brain protruding from a hole that sat in the indentation in the center of his head. I looked at the bar I was holding and it was only then I noticed the blood and hair stuck to the end of it. I looked closer at the hair and could see wet bits of what must have been skin or brain mixed in with it, it was too much.
I turned my head to the side and thre
w up all over the kitchen table. My knees began to buckle and I stumbled backwards, scared I was going to faint on top of the body that lay in the kitchen. My legs gave way as I stepped back and I fell, banging my backside on the floor and my back on a cupboard. I was shaking and I retched again. Nothing came up but the retching hurt my stomach.
From down on the floor, I caught the scent of the zombie. Whether it was due to wounds I had inflicted or wounds he already had, he was emitting a rancid smell. It made me heave again. Again, my stomach hurt and I felt out of breath.
I heard a moaning and looked up at the open door. The woman from the drive placed her hand on the inside of the doorframe as she leant forward, about to negotiate the step up.
I jumped up and wiped my mouth with my sleeve.
I dashed forward and smacked her hand with the metal bar as hard as I could. Despite almost certainly breaking all the fingers in that hand, it had no affect on her as she stepped up and into the kitchen. I dropped the bar on the floor and pushed her chest with both hands as hard as I could. She weighed less than I expected and flew down the step, tumbling to the floor without even trying to break her fall with her hands. She face-planted the concrete driveway and skidded forwards.
Without even seeing if she got up I slammed the kitchen door and clawed through the bowl on the table looking for the key. I couldn't find it and started to panic, where was it? What had I done with it?
I vaguely remembered taking the key out of the door before and patted myself down. I put both hands in my front pockets and found it in my jeans. I pulled it out and fumbled with it in my hands, dropping it on the floor.
"Fuuu..."
I was panicking that the door could open again any second. The woman could be on her feet again and just outside. I realised I was shaking, really shaking.
I shut my eyes and told myself to calm down. I took two deep breaths and opened my eyes again. I still felt sick but wasn't sure whether it was a continuation from before or whether it was anticipation of what was on the other side of the door.
Ridgetown (Book 0): Rising Page 1
