Ghostland (Book 2): Ghostland 2

by Whittington, Shaun

  Donald clenched his fists tight and snarled, “And are you going to make me, fucker?”

  Dicko stepped forwards and placed his hand on the leather holster where Trevor rested. “No, but I will.”

  Simon stepped inbetween both men and said, “Look, guys, I don’t want to be kicking anybody out.” He then flashed Donald a look. “But Donald, you don’t do yourself any favours, do you, mate?”

  “I’m not gonna be a shrinking violet and walk on eggshells in case I offend anyone,” Donald continued to rant. “That’s the way I am.”

  “I know.” Simon nodded. “And if it wasn’t for Helen, you would have been out a long time ago. But enough is enough. You’re not welcome here anymore. I mean—”

  “Simon,” Yoler interrupted.

  “I haven’t finished yet,” Simon snapped at Dicko.

  “Be quiet.”

  “What?”

  Dicko pointed down the road. “Take a look. Everybody, take a look.”

  All four sets of eyes stared at the bald man that was approaching them. He wore a blue Everlast T-shirt, black jogging bottoms, and was wearing blue Adidas trainers. The stranger had his hands up, and he strolled towards the four individuals, wearing a wide smile.

  “Good morning, brothers,” Hando then turned to Yoler. “And, of course, beautiful sister.”

  “And you are?” Dicko rested his hand on the leather holster, which Hando clocked, and waited for a response from this stranger.

  “My name is Kevin Pritchard, but people call me Hando.” Hando placed his hand on his chest. “You’re the first good people I’ve come across in months.”

  Yoler folded her arms and huffed, “And how the piss do you know if we’re good people or not?”

  “I can just tell.”

  Yoler, Simon and Dicko had a quick glance at each other, but Donald remained unmoved and glared at the stranger. He didn’t like him.

  “You look healthy,” said Hando. “You all do. You must be well set up.”

  “We’re doing okay,” said Simon. He seemed to like the strange man. “We have supplies, a vegetable patch round the back—”

  “Don’t tell him fuck all,” Donald snapped. “Bloody idiot.”

  “I’ve been on the road for months.” Hando lowered his hands and placed them in front of him, and added, “My family were killed last year, in the first month. I did have a camp, but we were attacked.”

  “Attacked?” Simon spoke up. “Who by? Orson?”

  “Orson?” Hando shook his head. “I’m afraid that that’s a name I’m not familiar with, brother.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Simon ran his fingers through his hairy chin and said to the strange man, “Look, what is it that you’re after?”

  “If I’m being honest,” Hando smiled thinly and opened his arms. “A bed for the night, brothers. That’s all I ask.”

  Dicko, Yoler and Simon looked at each other once more, but before they could converse with one another, Donald began to rant.

  “Look, it’s not happening,” Donald growled at Hando. “So why don’t you just fuck off? If anything, the place is overcrowded as it is. I might be getting kicked out myself.”

  Hando raised his hands in defence. “I don’t want to argue with you, brother.”

  “Then fuck off!” Donald took long strides towards Hando and placed his forehead against his. “And don’t come back, you piece of shit.”

  Hando, refusing to budge, smiled, and said, “Now, that’s not nice, is it?”

  Donald pushed Hando in the chest, forcing Hando to take a step backwards, which prompted Simon, Dick and Yoler to call for the short tempered forty-three-year-old to calm down.

  “We don’t know who he is!” Donald snapped.

  “You don’t have to be so volatile towards him!” Dicko yelled, and went over to pull Donald back.

  Ignoring Dicko’s remark, Donald took a swing at Hando, but Hando managed to duck out of the way and jumped a few steps back.

  “Get back here!” Simon yelled at Donald.

  Donald lowered his fists and began to walk back to the other three. Hando began to walk away from the four individuals, occasionally looking back, and it looked like he was seconds away from disappearing around the country lane that bent to the right.

  “I’m sorry,” Simon called over to the stranger. “We simply have no room.”

  Hando shrugged his shoulders and said, “That’s all you needed to say.” He waved and disappeared around the bend. “No hard feelings, brothers. I wish you all the best. I really do.”

  Donald turned to face his three housemates and could see their look of disapproval.

  “What?” he said.

  *

  “Fucking disrespect me the fucking cunts. I’ll fucking show them. I’ll fucking burn them while they sleep.” Hando’s rage was for all to see once he came around the bend and met back up with Wazza and Dirty Ian.

  “Fucking cunts,” he continued to rant, and both Dirty Ian and Wazza were on edge. They knew when Hando lost his temper, which wasn’t that often, he could be an unpredictable animal.

  “Was it all of them that disrespected you?” Dirty Ian asked.

  “No, but fuck ‘em. Fuck the lot of them.”

  “What was the plan, Hando?” Wazza asked. “Why did you go and talk to them anyway? You didn’t say anything to me and Ian.”

  “The plan?”

  Wazza nodded.

  “The plan was to get into their good books, earn their trust, move in with them.” Hando cleared his throat, turned to the side, and spat in the grass. He continued, “Then, once they were all asleep, I was going to kill every one of them. Then we take the farmhouse and the facilities for ourselves. Now, after speaking to me like a cunt, they can all fucking burn. And that’ll happen tonight.”

  “Burn the whole house?” Wazza scratched his head. “What if they have supplies that could benefit us? We’d be cutting our nose off...”

  Hando was beginning to calm down and thought for a moment. He took in a few deep breaths and was beginning to think clearly now. “Okay, so maybe burning the place down is a daft idea,” he admitted.

  “So, what then?” Ian asked.

  “Maybe we’ll break into the kitchen, take what we want, then burn it down. Apparently they have a vegetable patch outside as well. Don’t wanna be damaging that.” Hando began to laugh.

  “Why don’t we just get in and kill them while they sleep?” Dirty Ian suggested. Because he didn’t question Hando’s actions normally, he took a gulp before continuing. “At least then we can take the premises and everything that’s in it.”

  Hando was beginning to calm down and looked at his two comrades. He could tell by their faces that they wanted him to use a different process. They never normally questioned his methods, but he admitted to himself that burning down the place would be reckless, especially if it could provide shelter for them for the foreseeable future and if supplies were in there.

  Hando thought and nodded. “You’re right. We keep on moving from one place to the next, hoping something better comes along. Maybe that place is the best we can do, for now.”

  “Killing four people is a big ask,” Ian said, unsure they could pull it off.

  “It is,” Hando agreed. “Especially that bald guy that tried to assault me, but I’m willing to give it a go. If we can pull this off, the rewards could be excellent.”

  “But we don’t have to kill them all, do we?” Wazza asked. “If some flee on foot then we’ll leave them be.”

  Hando nodded. “I suppose.”

  “And there’s definitely four? No more?”

  “I saw four standing outside. Maybe we should watch the place for a few hours and see if any new faces pop up. And then we hit the place.”

  Both Wazza and Dirty Ian agreed with the plan. For them it was all about bettering their lives. For Hando it was about that as well, but it was about getting a little revenge.

  “So what now?” Dirty Ian asked Hando.

>   “We watch the house and then we’ll make our move.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The young man’s feet made their way through the long grass of the field, and holding a heavy branch, he went into a village, passing the welcome sign. He was on tenterhooks.

  It was a place he had heard of, but had never visited, and the village only had half a dozen streets, one pub, and a primary school at the end of the main road.

  A month ago he was in good company. He had a camp and shared the place with good people. Unfortunately, the place was attacked by a horde of Canavars and the group split, with he, his sister, and a male friend running for their lives. Nobody stood their ground and fought the dead, the panic was too much and most weren’t armed when the surprise attack occurred.

  Two weeks after the attack, his sister and his male friend were attacked in their sleep by two Canavars as they slept in the woods. His sister was supposed to be keeping watch and must have fallen asleep. He managed to flee before a set of rotten teeth managed to rip into his flesh, but had left behind two people, people that were very dear to him.

  His eyes went frantically from side to side as he walked down the street with a slow pace. The street was small and had only twelve houses.

  He needed a bed for the night.

  His thoughts went back to that fateful night, the night he lost his friend and sister. Exhausted, he sat down on the kerb in the barren street and began to cry. He placed the heavy branch by the side of him and his head dropped into his hands. He closed his eyes tight and could still see the image of their torn bodies, the screaming for help, but he had to leave. They were beyond help. He had to flee, otherwise he’d be dead also.

  He wasn’t selfish. It was a fact, and he never once thought that he had abandoned his sister Hayley. He knew, in order for his own survival, that what he did was the correct thing, but it was still raw and painful that she was dead.

  “Are you okay, mister?” a voice said above him. It was a female voice.

  *

  Donald Brownstone had disappeared upstairs after the incident with the stranger outside, and hadn’t been seen since the incident had taken place fifteen minutes ago. Young David had been told to stay in his room by his mother, and Helen, Yoler, Simon and Dicko were all sitting around the dining table, discussing what to do with the man.

  It was clear that Dicko, Yoler and Simon wanted Donald out, especially after his unnecessary behaviour towards the stranger from outside. The only person that was fighting his corner was Helen. She wanted them to give him one more chance.

  “I think he’s had enough chances,” said Yoler “I don’t want to kick a man out, leaving him out there to fend for himself, but his unpredictable behaviour could put us all at risk.”

  “It seems a bit harsh.” Helen rested her hands on the table and with her head slightly dipped, she took in a breath before adding further, “He’s been very good to me and David since we met up. It feels like I’m stabbing the man in the back.”

  Yoler said, “He was only good to you because he eventually wanted to get in your pants.” Yoler looked at Helen and waited for a reaction. She didn’t get one, so Yoler Sanders continued, “Donald has always been kind of unpleasant, ever since the first day he got here. And now he knows there’s an attraction between you and Simes, and don’t tell me there isn’t, he can’t seem to keep his rage in.”

  “I know he’s going.” Helen nodded and was now flushing after Yoler’s comment about her and Simon being attracted to one another.

  Yoler was right.

  There was no point denying it, although Helen wasn’t impressed with Simon the other night. The fact that he was blind drunk and then came onto her felt insulting, but now she had time to think about it. Maybe he needed to be drunk to have the courage to approach her.

  “Even if we put it to a vote,” Simon chipped in. “It’s three to one. I’m sorry, Helen. I know that you and Donald go back a little, and I know David likes him, but...”

  She dropped her head in defeat and sighed. “I know.”

  “He’s a liability.”

  “Can’t he just stay in the small abandoned barn outside? At least then he’ll still be with us, kind of, but not living in the house.”

  “I just don’t want him around at all,” said Yoler. “None of us do. And don’t you think camping outside would leave him vulnerable from any future attacks. And there will be some.”

  The living room door opened and Donald stepped in. Helen stood up, but he motioned her to sit back down.

  “I’ll be on my way,” he said with a sombre tone.

  “Okay.” Simon stood up and went over to shake Donald’s hand, but Donald refused to shake it. He walked by Simon and stood next to Helen.

  “I’ve already said goodbye to David,” he said to her.

  She stood up and they both hugged. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I’d come with you, but ... David.”

  “I understand.” Donald broke away from the embrace and added, “You’re better off here, you dig what I’m sayin’? It’s safer here.”

  “I’m sorry it worked out like this, Donald.” Dicko decided to say something before the man departed.

  “Are you really?” Donald laughed with sarcasm.

  “Where’re you gonna go?” Helen asked him.

  “Back to our old camp. The cabin should still be liveable, and it’s probably clear by now. There shouldn’t be any dead bodies. I think most of the people that were attacked either fled or turned into Canavars.”

  “Okay.”

  Donald looked at Simon. “I’ll need a bottle of water and some snacks to keep me going until I get sorted.”

  “No problem.” Simon nodded.

  Donald went into the kitchen, grabbed a few things, and then left the house altogether a minute later.

  Chapter Thirty

  The man continued to gaze up at the young girl and finally spoke.

  “Er ... what?” the dark handsome man said.

  “I was asking if you were okay.”

  “I’ve had better days,” he laughed falsely. “You?”

  “The same.”

  The young girl smiled. She was a pretty thing, he thought. She was a teenager and had black hair, brown eyes, with a haircut like Uma Thurman’s in Pulp Fiction.

  Grace Newton was relaxed in the man’s company. Despite her experience in the caravan a couple of days ago, this stranger seemed like a good guy. He was on his own, he came across as a decent fellow, and when she approached him, he was in tears. This meant, unlike the thugs that had turned up at her caravan, that this man had a heart. He had feelings, and at the moment the both of them were hurting.

  “Where’re you staying?” the man asked.

  She pointed over at the house to their right and said, “Me and my family were staying somewhere else, but we ran into some trouble.”

  “The dead or the living?” he asked.

  “The living.”

  “Man,” he sighed. “They’re the worst. Where’re your family now?”

  Grace dipped her head and said, “I think they’re dead.”

  “You ... think?”

  “I was asleep.” She paused and was struggling to find the words. “These guys came in, I woke up, and I could hear them attacking my mum and sister.”

  “You ran?”

  With shame on her face, Grace bit her bottom lip before saying, “I panicked. I...”

  “If you hadn’t have run, then you could have been killed as well.”

  Grace was already sure of that, but it didn’t stop the guilt from twisting her insides.

  She sat down next to the young, handsome man, and they both stared into oblivion and a word never left their mouths for over a minute. Their minds were relaxed and the peace was welcomed by both of them.

  The stranger looked around in the diminutive street and asked Grace, “Have you checked any of these houses since you’ve been here?”

  She shook her head. “I was too scared to
. It took all my courage to break into the house where I’m staying.”

  “Maybe I should try them.” The man rubbed his hair whilst thinking. “It shouldn’t take long. And maybe there could be stuff in there that we could use.”

  “Like food?”

  The man nodded.

  Grace guffawed, “After a year?”

  “We won’t know until we’ve tried.”

  “Where are you from?” Grace Newton asked him. “I mean, where were you based before you came here?”

  “I’ve been on the road for the last month.”

  “And before that?”

  “I had a camp,” the man began to explain.

  “You had one?” Grace was confused and the stranger could see this. “What do you mean you had a camp?”

  “It was attacked,” he began to explain. “By the Canavars.”

  “I didn’t think there were many around these days.”

  “Oh, they’re around. There just ain’t as many as there used to be.”

  Grace tucked her dark hair behind her ears and asked, “So what happened?”

  The man ran his fingers over his mouth and his stubbly chin and said, “They came into the camp, attacked a few of our people, and … that’s it really. Some of us ran. Me, my sister and this other guy ran so hard that we must have done two miles before we stopped. It’s amazing how fast and far you can run when the panic kicks in.”

  “Tell me about it,” Grace half-laughed. “I know what you mean.”

  “Anyway, we kept on walking, for miles, and a couple of weeks later we were attacked by more of them. I lost my sister and my pal.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “I was lost and literally didn’t know where to go.” The man paused and ran his fingers across his lips before continuing. “I’m trying to go back to the area where I stayed for many months. I don’t know why. I don’t really know where else to go.”

  “And are you near?”

  “Not far now.” He nodded. “Three people from my camp fled a different way when we were attacked, and I think I know where they went to.”

  Grace never asked; she lifted her chin, prompting him to continue with his story.