She lowered the gun and gazed over at the man. He was on the floor, groaning, and holding his bleeding stomach. He kept on placing his hands on the wound, looking down at his middle, then looking at his bloody hands as if he couldn’t believe what was happening.
“You … you … shot me!” he screamed.
“You pick up real quick.” Lisa strolled over to the man and pointed the two barrels at the man’s chest. “Tell me where they are and I can end your suffering. And if you don’t, I walk away and leave you to die slowly.”
“I’m not telling you,” Q groaned, knowing he only had minutes left before he would meet his maker. “If I tell you, then you’ll go there and get yourself killed.”
Lisa turned to the side and thought for a moment, but she had slightly dropped her guard. Q reached and grabbed the barrels of the shotgun and pulled it out of her hands. She released a shriek of surprise and bent over to retrieve the gun, but Q pushed and kicked her away and now had the gun pointing at her, although his hands were shaky and the gun looked unsteady.
Lisa took a step back and raised her hands.
“I don’t blame you for shooting me,” Q said, and was struggling for breath. “You have one cartridge left, but if you had no loaded gun at all, maybe you’ll think twice about looking for Hando.”
“What are you gonna do?” she asked.
“I won’t harm you,” Q gasped, looking down on his wounds. “I don’t blame you for what you’ve just done.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
Q managed a smile, but there was clearly pain behind that smile, and he said, “I suggest you look away now.”
He turned the gun around and placed the barrels under his chin. It was a hell of a stretch, but he managed to pull the trigger back, and Helen looked away as most of his head came apart.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Simon Washington was the first one to wake up. He had no idea of the time, but knew he wasn’t going to go back to sleep. He stood up and could feel the room spin and sway; and it was obvious he was still drunk from the night before.
He had only downed two thirds of his bottle, whereas Donald had almost finished his bottle last night. Simon crept downstairs and reached the ground floor. Aware that Yoler and Dicko would be sleeping, Simon opened the door carefully and peeped in the dusky area before stepping in.
He crept by the two snoring individuals and entered the kitchen. He unbolted the door and stepped outside to empty his bladder, up against the wall of the house. He was about to go back inside and grab himself a drink of water, but a soft wind stroked his face and he decided to stay outside.
He walked over to the left of the house and sat by Imelda’s grave. He crossed his legs and placed his hands on his thighs, still enjoying the coolness of the breeze. He looked up to the heavens and could see that another murky and clammy day was on the cards.
With his head kept raised, he closed his eyes and waited for the next breeze to soothe his features, and he didn’t have to wait long.
Stay strong and keep living, no matter what it takes.
“This is what being alive is all about,” he purred.
He groaned in delight and kept his eyes closed as more breezes glided over him. But his quiet was shattered once a voice spoke from behind, making him jump with fright.
“Made a right tit of yourself last night, didn’t you, Simes?”
It was the unmistakable voice of Yoler Sanders, and Simon released a moan and turned around.
He shaded his eyes from the glare from the sky, and asked Yoler what on earth she was talking about.
“I’m just saying,” she spoke, and raised her eyebrows at the man. “You made yourself look like a tit.”
“I don’t give a shit. Didn’t we all make tits of ourselves?” He said further, “If I remember rightly, Donald couldn’t even speak.”
“You don’t remember, do you?”
Simon stood up and gazed at Yoler with a perplexed look. He placed both of his hands in his pocket and said, “Enlighten me.”
Yoler opened her mouth to say something, but Helen appeared and said good morning to the pair of them.
“Just wanted some air,” she said to the two of them. “You don’t realise how bad those rooms smell unless you leave them and then go back in.”
“How are you this morning?” Simon asked her. She looked like she was wearing the same clothes as she did yesterday, probably slept in them as well.
She shrugged her shoulders and mumbled, “Okay, I guess.”
She then flashed Yoler a smile and went back inside.
“That was strange.” Simon rubbed his head and looked over at Yoler. “I wonder what’s up with her.”
“This is what I was trying to tell you, Simes.”
“What is it?” he asked.
“You came onto her last night.”
“What?” Simon took a step backwards, his face drenched in shock.
“We were turning in, and after you and Dicky Boy carried Donald to his room, you came back downstairs for some water. Do you remember that bit?”
Simon shook his head. “Um…”
“Anyway, you and Helen were in the kitchen. I came in to make sure the door was bolted and you made a move on her.”
“Fuck off.” Simon smiled, convinced that Yoler was lying and trying to wind him up. “That didn’t happen.”
“Don’t you remember at all?”
“No.” Simon lost his smile and was now certain that Yoler was telling the truth.
“She didn’t look impressed.”
“What did she do?” Simon’s heart was in his mouth and he placed his hand on his head and shook it in disbelief.
“Not a lot.” Yoler shrugged her shoulders. “She didn’t look happy when she was going upstairs to bed, though.”
“Shit.”
“Not sure this alcohol bonding get together has worked, Simes.” Yoler walked away from the man and said, before entering the house, “But at least you tried.”
Simon dropped his head in his hands and shook it. He then looked up and could see Donald hanging out of the bathroom window, shaking his head.
“What the fuck are you shaking your head at?” Simon snapped at him.
Donald disappeared and was out of the house within seconds, heading towards Simon. Simon could see by Donald’s face that he was about to commit a violent act, but Simon stood his ground and took a large gulp.
Donald grabbed Simon with both hands and threw him to the ground. Simon never made a sound, but was taken aback by the strength of Donald Brownstone. Donald bent over and clutched Simon’s shirt with his left hand.
“You’re a fucking disgrace,” the bald man growled. “You know that?”
“I’ve done nothing wrong,” Simon mumbled. “And I’m a disgrace? You couldn’t even speak last night, you were that drunk.”
“I’m talking about coming onto Helen,” he snarled. “I heard what Yoler said to you.”
“Yeah, well. I don’t remember any of it.”
“She’s a fragile woman,” said Donald, and moved his face closer to Simon’s so they now had their foreheads pressing against one another. “The last thing she needs is a filthy cunt like you trying to get into her pants.”
“It was nothing. Just chill out.”
“Don’t you fucking tell me to chill out.”
“I just did.”
Still clutching his shirt with his left hand, Donald brought his right fist back and hit Simon on his cheek. Donald hadn’t caught him right, but it was still a sore one for Washington. Simon shook his head and was still conscious.
“The trouble with you,” Simon began, his anger swelling, “is that you have a thing for Helen, and you’ve seen the little looks she’s been giving me and it’s tearing you up, isn’t it?”
“Bullshit. I felt like I had a family when I had that camp in the woods. Helen and David are all I have left of that family; that’s why I’m so protective of her … of the pair of them.�
��
“Is that so?” Simon smiled and waggled his head. “I think there’s more to it than that.”
Donald brought his fist back, ready to strike the man for a second time, but his fist was grabbed by Dicko who was standing behind him.
Donald was pulled back off of Simon and thrown to the floor. Donald stood up and could see that Dicko and Yoler were standing near him.
“We heard the commotion from indoors,” said Yoler.
“This prick came onto Helen last night.” Donald pointed at Simon.
Simon stood to his feet and began to brush himself down.
“And? So what?” Yoler laughed, making Donald even more irate. “We’re adults. Simon drunkenly came onto Helen; she turned him down. What’s the problem?”
Donald gritted his teeth together and couldn’t give Yoler an answer.
“You men,” Yoler cackled and shook her head. “It’s all about getting a bit of snatch, isn’t it? Always thinking with your cocks and don’t even know how to use them properly. That’s what you’re fighting over, isn’t it?”
Donald said, “This is nothing to do with being jealous, or—”
“Of course it is,” Yoler interjected, stopping Donald from finishing his sentence. “Over the centuries, men have killed one another for a bit of the old gash action. Pathetic creatures.”
“What are we gonna do about this?” Simon spoke to Yoler and Dicko, trying to blank out Donald’s presence. “This is not working with him living here.”
“You want me out of the way?” Donald flashed Simon a hard glare. “She needs me here so you don’t get your scummy paws on her. You came onto her last night. What’s it gonna be in a month’s time? You gonna rape her?”
Simon, Dicko and Yoler couldn’t believe the words that had left Donald Brownstone’s mouth, and all looked gob smacked.
“What did you say?” Simon was stunned at what had just come out of Donald’s mouth.
“You fucking heard me!”
“You think I could be capable of that? Is that what you really think?”
“You’re a man, aren’t you, you dig what I’m sayin’?”
Simon looked at Yoler and Dicko, who both shook their heads and remained silent.
“Wow, you’re really messed up, aren’t you?” Simon groaned.
Donald clenched his hands into a fist and took a step forwards, in Simon’s direction.
“Touch him again,” Dicko said, stopping Donald from progressing any further, “and I’ll knife you right here. You’re skating on thin ice even before last night, so don’t act the cunt.”
All four stood in the back area and were silent. Donald turned and headed for the back entrance of the house that led into the kitchen.
“Donald!” Dicko called out.
“What?” he snapped.
“Don’t go too far. I want you two to calm the fuck down.”
“And then?” asked Yoler.
“And in the next ten minutes, we all meet up outside, at the front, away from young David. We need to sort this out, once and for all.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Dirty Ian was the first to wake. He went downstairs and once his eyes clocked the empty couch, he knew that Q had left for good. Once Hando was informed, he reacted by shrugging his shoulders and stated that Q was weak and the group would be better off without him.
Once the three men had nibbles and drinks, they left the house to go elsewhere, somewhere better. There was always somewhere better. They hadn’t found a place that was perfect yet, but once they did… It was going to be home.
They purposely stayed in the countryside, as Hando felt they were better off and safer. The countryside was where all the farms were based, and farms were the best places to stay in the long term, even with the cattle gone. Farms had land, the houses were solid, and they were out of the way of populated areas.
The three men strolled on the abandoned road, not one of them mentioning their departed friend, and wordlessly walked. Nine minutes had passed before a word was uttered.
Dirty Ian and Wazza were walking behind Hando, and Robinson sniggered and nudged Wazza. “I’ve got a joke for you,” he began.
Wazza moaned. “I think I’ve heard all your jokes, Ian.”
“No, this is one I remember from years back. I haven’t told you this one.”
“Oh, go on then,” Wazza groaned, and began to scratch at his chest. He had been wearing the Chelsea top for a while now and needed a change, especially as they only washed around once a week, and that’d be in some mucky pond or a polluted stream.
“An eighty-year-old couple were seen shagging furiously up against a fence,” Dirty Ian began. “For forty minutes they shagged like bastards, arms and legs going everywhere until they fell to the floor. ‘Christ,’ she said. ‘You didn’t fuck me like that fifty years ago!’ To which the old man replied, ‘Fifty years ago that fence wasn’t fucking electric!’ Like it?”
Wazza chuckled lightly and admitted, “It’s definitely one of your better ones. Here, I’ve got one.”
“Go on.”
“Why do bulimics love a KFC?”
“I don’t know.”
Wazza laughed, “Because it comes with a bucket.”
Hando stopped walking and raised his hand, telling his other two comrades to do the same. The chuckling from the two men behind Hando came to an abrupt end.
“What is it?” Dirty Ian spoke in a whisper.
“I hear noises,” said Hando in a soft tone.
Trees were to either side of the men, but they could see up ahead that the woods had stopped and fields were on each side, further up.
The three men stared in the direction of the sound of rustling in the woods, and could see what the danger was because the trees weren’t so condensed. They could see two Canavars shambling through the area, heading towards them.
“Shall we just keep walking?” Wazza waited for an answer and wiped his clammy hands on his Chelsea shirt.
“No.” Hando shook his head. He pulled out his knife, and the other two did the same. “If we ignore it, they’ll just end up following us, brothers. Besides,” he pointed into the trees and they could see that they only had a few yards before they exited the woods. “They’ve already spotted us.”
All three men took a couple of steps back and watched the two ghouls stumble out into the road. The two looked male and were badly decomposed, dead skin hanging from their faces, and the smell coming from them was more horrendous than these men had experienced.
“Jesus Christ!” Dirty Ian exclaimed. “They fucking stink worse than ever!”
“Yep.” Hando nodded. “They’re pretty badly decomposed. The worst I’ve seen. Maybe they’ve been around since the beginning.”
The two dead, for whatever reason, headed for Wazza and Ian, ignoring Hando, who was to their right, and he watched as his two men frantically stabbed at the skulls of the rotten contaminated beings. One by one the bodies dropped to the floor, and Hando waited a minute for Wazza and Ian to get their breaths back.
Wazza then bent down, over one of the dead, and pulled out his disposable lighter.
Hando asked his companion what the fuck he was doing.
Wazza answered, “Probably best if we burn the bodies.”
“Don’t waste lighter fuel on those things,” Hando remarked.
“Yeah,” Ian chipped in. “Leave them for the crows.”
Wazza nodded his head, taking his reprimand, and stood back up, putting the lighter back into his pocket.
“Ready?” Hando called over to the two men.
They both nodded.
“Good.” Hando walked away, and his two guys followed behind, leaving the two corpses lying in the middle of the road. They left the woods behind and could now see fields to either side of them, making them a little more relaxed, enough for them to put their blades back into their pockets.
Hando was the first to walk around the tight bend in the road and stopped walking once the road st
raightened up. “Well, well, well.”
Wazza and Ian stopped and stood either side of Hando.
“What is it?” asked Wazza.
“Use your eyes,” Hando snickered gently, and then pointed up ahead. “It’s a farmhouse.”
“But there’re people outside it. Look.”
Wazza was correct. Four people had appeared, three males and a female, and were standing at the front of the farmhouse, and seemed to be discussing something.
Dirty Ian asked his leader, “Shall we go back?”
Hando shook his head.
“So what are we gonna do?”
Hando thought for a moment and said, “You two hang back and stay out of sight. I’m going to introduce myself.”
*
Dicko was the first to step outside and was quickly followed by Simon and Yoler. Helen had been invited outside for the discussion, but she refused and wanted to stay neutral because she liked Donald. She didn’t want to get involved in whatever decision was made about the man.
Donald stepped out of the front door and walked the ten yards over to the three other housemates.
“Is this really necessary?” Donald held out his arms.
“After the night we had last night, I thought the air would do us all good,” said Simon. “Not only that ... I don’t want that youngster in there hearing any bad language or witnessing any kind of violence, not that there’s gonna be any.”
“Let’s cut to the chase. Because I’m bored already.” Donald folded his arms and huffed, “What’s going on?”
“I wanted Helen here,” Simon said. “I wanted her on this, but it looks like we’re gonna have to do this without her.”
Donald groaned, “Do what?”
“I want you out, but the fair way to do this is to vote you out.”
“I’ve lived in a street where I wasn’t welcome,” Dicko said to Donald. “I could imagine that living in a house with most people not speaking to you could be quite uncomfortable.”
Donald shook his head and said, “Helen and David would speak to me.”
“Look,” Simon moaned. “You’re fucking going, mate. And that’s that.”
Ghostland (Book 2): Ghostland 2 Page 12
