by Ian D. Moore
“That’s a bad sign. There are three main stations that power the Yorkshire area, Drax, Eggborough, and Ferrybridge, all of them pretty big stations. If they all went down, that means that the infection must be spreading fast. The farm has its own power source though–in the outhouse is a diesel generator. We had it fitted a couple years ago after that bad winter which took out the power lines for weeks.”
He pulled on a jacket and grabbed his rifle from the table, shoving a spare four-shot loaded magazine into his pocket.
“I’ll just be a minute; should start first time with a little luck.”
“How about I make us a bite to eat?” Evie said, calling after him, but he must have been too far to hear. She checked the cupboards for ingredients, hastily preparing a quick meal from what she found.
***
Outside, Nathan moved cautiously. The light was beginning to fade, casting deceptive, spooky shadows across the yard. Reaching the outhouse and pulling out the flashlight always kept just inside the door, he checked the generator fuel tank gauge, which showed three-quarters full. Good, he thought.
He moved around to the front panel before he clicked up the toggle power breaker. He engaged the on-board battery and the panel lights lit up. He pushed the start button, and the big generator coughed and spluttered as the automatic choke coerced it into life. A few minutes later, the jenny settled into a low melodic hum, now providing mains voltage power to both the outhouse and the farmhouse.
*******
Encounters
In the corner of the field on the border of the farm, at the opposite side of the small coppice, three figures lay crouched over the mutilated corpse of a cow. Gorging themselves on the flesh, the largest of the three had his head immersed deep into the chest cavity of the heifer, tearing and ripping at flesh and organs as blood stained the soil at his knees a crimson red. The two males and one female stopped instantly.
The larger male pulled his head from within the beast, sticky matted hair and black eyes glistening in the fading light as his left hand clutched the heart of the cow, like some hell-spawned apple. The other two ceased their feeding frenzy, and all three turned, looking towards the source of the low hum emanating from beyond the woods.
The younger male had been boring into the neck of the beast, sinew and tendons left trailing from the gaping wound, while the female sat stuffing discarded entrails into her mouth, as a child eats spaghetti. They stood as one and began to move towards the noise, entering the wooded area, advancing without a sound, save for the occasional crack of dry foliage crumpled under foot.
Feeling pretty damn good, Nathan closed the outhouse door, flipping the bolt as he headed for the house. He looked up and could see Evie at the kitchen sink, her head bowed in concentration at whatever it was she was doing. She looked beautiful, he thought.
Crack! Crack!
He froze, listening intently and trying to filter out background noise. Once again, he heard that piercing, sharp cracking sound of something moving through the trees off slightly to his left. He wheeled around, pulling the bolt on the Sako rifle and loading a .22LR round into the chamber. He flicked the power switch on the small Russian-built Gnome infrared spotter, mounted on the back of his day scope. There was not enough light for the 3-9x50AO Sabre scope alone, but combined with the Gnome, it allowed longer range shooting in low light conditions.
Slowly scanning the tree line, he picked up three figures; the tinged green outlines showed up against the leaves, eyes lit up as the reflected infrared light bounced off them. He scanned again, confirming the three targets. The effective range of the Sako was estimated at 275 yards, but the relatively small .22LR round meant that head shots were going to be essential, if he were to take them out that far away.
“Stand still!!” he ordered, but there was no response.
The tallest of the three headed straight for the trap. The smaller male headed off to his right while the last, it looked like a girl, came from behind and to the left of the larger male. He thought that they could be father, son, and daughter, but through the night scope, it was impossible to tell.
Nathan waited as the younger male broke cover, rattling the can trip wire as he passed, he put the range at eighty yards. Placing the crosshairs slightly above the boy’s right ear, he gently squeezed the trigger. The rifle coughed and the bullet raced forwards. Keeping the scope locked on the boy, he saw the wisp of hair rise a split second before the bullet ripped through the temple of the youth, dropping him instantly.
Without a break in his stride, the bigger deadhead male marched on, catching his ankle on the trip wire as he thrashed through to the edge of the woods.
***
Evie’s head jolted up from the sink on hearing the dull report of the suppressed rifle; the sound was out of place in the still air. She moved to the counter, rubbing wet hands down her blouse. She grabbed the Remington from its resting place, scattered the cartridges, and snatched three, in an effort to reach the back door as quickly as possible before pulling it wide. She ran out and to the corner of the stone building.
“Nate! Nathan?” she half-whispered. She narrowed her eyes, squinting, looking left and right, and struggling to see in the fading light.
“Three, Evie. Stay there!” was the only reply as she followed the sound and managed to find cover slightly behind Nathan.
“I thought I told you to st—” he said. His retort was cut short by a “whoosh” sound as the trip wire was hit, releasing the tension on the branch. The big man had waded past the trap, but the small female wasn’t so lucky; her next step was going to be her last as the recoiling branch took up the slack of the wire, bringing it up taut at an angle.
The girl had been caught mid-step, the thin wire whistling as it sliced clean through her from right hip to just below her left shoulder, cutting bone, tissue and muscle, finishing with a scattering of leaves and an audible “twang” as the wire hit maximum tension. The adult male deadhead ploughed on, and Evie watched in horror as the girl stood rooted, the wire passing through her, stopping at an angle just behind her body.
The young girl looked down, her face a mixture of surprise and confusion as her right hand fell off just above the wrist, hitting the ground with a muffled thump. As she attempted to move her legs to follow her body and try to retain balance, she began to part. Her chin rested on her chest, and they heard raspy gurgles as the last ebb of life left her. The torso slid at a crazy angle down to her right and finally pushed her severed left side and legs out from under her, with the top half falling to her left and the bottom half to the right. Evie doubled over and wretched, pushing her hair behind her ears until the involuntary spasms ceased. Nathan could hear her spitting and groaning whilst trying to suck in air.
Now, forty yards away from Nathan, the last deadhead aggressor expelled a low rumbling growl, as if intimidating his prey before the final strike. This sent Nathan spinning the rifle to his left, even though the vision at that range had blurred slightly. There was no time for adjustment; he’d have to play it by ear, compensating by instinct. Pulling the bolt and ejecting the spent casing, he eased it forwards and sent the next round into the chamber.
Round two.
Setting the rifle into his shoulder, he aimed at the nose of the oncoming threat.
Safety, fire!
Again, the rifle coughed; this time, the bullet skewed slightly left, ripping a hole in the man’s right cheek and taking part of his ear. It slowed him for a few seconds but only just enough time for Nathan to rise to his feet, knowing already that there wouldn’t be enough distance to pull off another shot.
He held the barrel of the rifle in his left hand, gripping the shoulder butt with his right, the gun now at an angle of forty-five degrees across his chest in front of him, and then, checking his target, he charged. Within striking range, he stopped just short, powering his right arm out and spinning on his left heel to get as much momentum behind the rifle as he could. The wooden rifle butt slammed into the deadh
ead’s left cheek, flicking its head hard right, though not enough to knock him off balance.
He tried to recover for another hit and caught a fleeting glimpse of what looked like a muddy tennis ball in the deadhead’s left hand, seconds before a crashing right blow sent him flailing to the ground. The rifle was knocked from his grip as it clattered and skittered into the dirt beside him.
Dazed by the blow, he grabbed at the weapon, rolling to his front and making it to all fours in an attempt to rise before the boot found his midriff. It knocked the wind clean out of him and sent him rolling over, coming to rest gazing at the starlit night sky and wheezing heavily. The big man kept coming, stepping over the incapacitated body of Nathan; he headed for Evie’s position.
***
Having watched this unfold, Evie grabbed the Remington and slid out on her bottom from the side of the outbuilding wall, bringing her knees up and loading the pump action as she did so. Twenty yards with no time to think as she flicked the safety, using her knees as support, she pulled the gun hard into her shoulder. She aimed at the chest of the oncoming man and fired.
Crack!
As she pulled far too hard on the trigger, the gun twitched off to her right, spattering the deadheads left side and all but severing his arm at the shoulder, spinning him in his step, but he still stood. Fifteen yards and closing; although his stride was not quite as forthright, he still came, and Evie pumped hard on the fore-grip, keeping her eyes fixed on the grimacing face of the deadhead approaching.
She could see straight into the thing’s cold, dead gaze, and its clenched rear teeth were clearly visible through the torn flesh of its cheek. The remnants of its left ear clung on for the ride, dangling like some kind of grotesque earring.
Ten yards away now. Click. The shell found the chamber, and she pushed the safety off, in one motion. The creature began to lean forward, as if bending to reach for her. She smiled, bringing up the shotgun before she looked into its eyes.
“Hi, I’m Evie, and Nate says to give you this!”
She pulled back on the trigger.
With no time to brace her arms, the shotgun kicked free. It bounced off the ground, but the shot had found its mark, hitting the deadhead in the middle of his chest in an explosion of bone fragments, themselves becoming projectiles as they ripped through the body, followed by skin, shredded lungs, and mangled pieces of heart. All catapulted through the football-sized hole and jetted backwards in a gruesome shower of body parts and a thick, black jelly-like substance.
The force of the point-blank shot catapulted the attacker backwards in an almost perfect driving position, and Evie watched, in what seemed like slow motion. The attacker’s body lifted from the ground and as it gained height, began to spin in an almost athletic back flip, not quite a full circle, hitting the ground with a spine-shattering, neck-crunching thud, face down in the dirt. Evie stood quickly, grabbing the shotgun and slamming another shell in ready to fire.
Slowly stepping around the body, keeping her eyes out for any movement, she raced towards Nathan, helping him rise to his feet.
Finally he picked up his rifle.
“You got him?” he said with his right arm braced across his battered ribs, and a small seam of blood that had trickled down the side of his mouth.
“I got him, you alright? I thought you were dead for a minute there.” she said, wrapping her free arm around his waist, to help him walk.
“Apparently you look tastier than me” smiling as he added “I tell ya, never let it be said that I don’t show a girl a good time!!”
Evie laughed, understanding that the horror of what had just happened needed to be dealt with later, if they were to survive. She leaned in to kiss him, wincing at the yelp he gave trying to reciprocate the gesture, and supporting his weight slowly back to the house.
Once inside she sat Nathan down with orders not to move, he did as he was told while she took the first aid box from the kitchen popping the lid to examine the contents on the way back.
“I think it’s just superficial though my ribs are pretty sore” he said.
“Well let’s get you cleaned up and we’ll take a look and see how bad it is” as she began to dab an antiseptic soaked cotton pad at his mouth wiping away the dried blood trail.
“We’ll sleep in the cellar tonight, it’s cozy and easier to defend, we’ll have to knock the genny off though or it could draw more attention. It was made into a spare room years ago for when the relatives visit. “ he said.
“All in good time, lift your shirt let me look, I’ve made some food already for us.” She looked at the reddened mark down the left side, softly running her fingers over his ribs, quite athletic she thought, that would have helped lessen the damage perhaps.
“I think you’ll live, nothing seems to be broken but it’s pretty badly bruised, couple of pain killers to take the edge off wouldn’t be a bad thing, “ popping two into her palm from the small bottle. He swallowed them dry.
“I need to get clean, I’ll come help with the cellar after though and I’ll leave the shower running, it’ll do you good” she smiled, rising and heading for the stairs.
***
Nathan watched her go, with a definite feeling of affection stirring inside. He pushed himself to his feet. The stabbing pain in his ribs reminded him that this was a warning from his body to take it steady.
Moving the weapons with spare ammunition, the paperwork taken from the site office at the wellhead, and the two laptops to the converted cellar, he then returned to collect canned soft drinks, a couple of bowls, two spoons, and the stove pan in which Evie had made a thick soup. From the cupboard under the counter, he took two solid brass oil lamps and gave each a shake, checking the fuel content. He also grabbed a flashlight and the single camping gas burner.
The cellar had a fully kitted bed, storage wardrobe, and external venting, as well as some storage space, basic washing area, and a chemical toilet, which pumped directly to a septic tank below the house. While there wasn’t a TV, he made sure to pick up the radio from the kitchen shelf; it had battery back-up and would give them news if anywhere was still able to broadcast.
He could hear the water flowing through the pipes, and he could have sworn he heard singing too as he passed the stairs, taking the supplies below. Returning, he climbed the stairs with a little more effort than usual, and knocking on the bathroom door, he called out.
“Are you decent in there?”
She’s giggling!
Evie came to the door.
“The shower’s lovely, are you coming in?” Evie said, opening the door. She was devoid of clothing, with only a towel wrapped around her body. Her hair was straggled and dangling as small drips of water fell to the floor at her feet. Nathan looked at her standing there and was unable to break his gaze. He traced the lines of her figure wrapped in the towel; her face was even more beautiful without make-up and truly was quite captivating.
At five-eight barefoot, with a medium slim build, Evie stood just level to his nose. Long, light brown hair reached between her shoulders at the back, and those eyes, he was sure, could penetrate him.
“What? Is something wrong?” Evie said and smiled, playfully teasing, as if knowing what he was thinking.
“Umm, no, no, not at all. It’s just that it’s been awhile since I saw a woman in my bathroom, let alone one wearing only a towel.” He smiled.
She took his hand, leading him inside before turning to kiss him, her mouth slightly open, brushing her lips softly first against the top, then the bottom of his mouth. Although it had been three years, Nathan knew very well what that kind of kiss meant, and feeling a mixture of excitement and apprehension, he raised his arms to pull her to him.
She gripped the bottom of his T-shirt, pulling it gently upwards and asking him to bend forwards to save straining his ribs as she pulled it clear of his head, tossing it crumpled into the corner of the room. The dull bruising at his side now clearly visible, she moved around him, kissing his shoulders
on tiptoe and allowing the tip of her tongue to trace delicately down his spine, around and back up his left side.
Reaching the black, mottled, angry-looking wound, she brushed her lips against it, as a mother would kiss the bruised elbow of a small child. Her hands reached around his waist to unbuckle the thick leather belt, popping the top button of his jeans and pulling apart the remaining buttons. Taking both his jeans and the boxer shorts beneath down to the floor, she stood on the clothing to allow him to step out. Without a sound, she came back to face him. Looking straight into his eyes and raising her right hand to the bunched towel around her, she pulled it free. As it slid down to the floor next to his jeans, she took his hand, leading him to the steamy rivulets of water pattering against the glass shield of the shower, before stepping in behind him.
Nathan let the hot water flow over his battered body, feeling the heat surge into tired muscles before he felt her hands, sleek and soapy as they ran over his shoulders and down his back, turning him gently. From the shelf, she took a sponge, lathering it before slowly wiping it down his body, her fingers caressing and stroking in-between playful kisses to his mouth and neck. He slid his hand down her arm as he took the soap-laden sponge and began to bathe her, tracing the line of her shoulders, down her spine, and then moving across her navel and back up to follow the curve of her breast as his mouth found first her lips and then her neck.
Nathan could hear her breathing falter as he teased her with light kisses, the short stubble prickling slightly, but cancelled out by playful flicks of his tongue, involuntarily causing her to squirm as he took time around each breast. He moved his hands to her pelvis and pulled her gently towards him, feeling both his own desire mounting and the need within her become more powerful.
“Not here,” he whispered, trying to control the quickening pace of his own breaths. “We have to get to the cellar, shut the jenny down, we’re too vulnerable here.”
