Hellspawn | Book 8 | Hellspawn Vengeance, page 1
part #8 of Hellspawn Series
Hellspawn Vengeance
Hellspawn Series- Book 8
Ricky Fleet
Optimus Maximus Publishing, LLC
HELLSPAWN VENGEANCE
Hellspawn Series – Book 8
Copyright © 2022 by Ricky Fleet
Published by Optimus Maximus Publishing, LLC in association with Dark Fleet Productions
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
eBook ISBN: 978-1-944732-63-9
Dedication
I dedicate this book to my old war buddy; Joe. We fought in the trenches of Eastleigh College. You survived. I fell. Thanks for the support and great times!
Acknowledgments
I couldn’t do what I do without the support of my family who keep me well stocked with tea and biscuits.
As always, my partner-in-crime Christina helps me to release the best books I can to you all.
And lastly, my intrepid beta team who I love dearly.
Contents
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Chapter 19
20. Chapter 20
21. Chapter 21
22. Chapter 22
23. Chapter 23
24. Chapter 24
25. Chapter 25
26. Chapter 26
27. Chapter 27
28. Chapter 28
29. Chapter 29
30. Chapter 30
31. Chapter 31
32. Chapter 32
33. Chapter 33
34. Chapter 34
35. Chapter 35
36. Chapter 36
37. Chapter 37
38. Chapter 38
39. Chapter 39
40. Chapter 40
41. Chapter 41
42. Chapter 42
43. Chapter 43
44. Chapter 44
45. Chapter 45
46. Chapter 46
47. Chapter 47
48. Chapter 48
49. Chapter 49
50. Chapter 50
51. Chapter 51
52. Chapter 52
53. Chapter 53
54. Chapter 54
55. Chapter 55
56. Chapter 56
57. Chapter 57
About Author
Chapter 1
Each step away from the castle felt like a mile. Kurt peered back every few paces, watching as the grey stone gradually faded against the green and brown of the surrounding forest. When it disappeared completely, he stopped dead in his tracks, bringing the whole convoy to a halt.
“Mate, we don’t have time to loiter,” warned Jonesy.
“You go on without me,” said Kurt.
“You’ve seen the crowd following us. We can’t allow that to get to Ian’s camp. I don’t want to ruin the trust we built earlier.”
All eyes were on the pair’s exchange. The boys. The soldiers. The human cargo, strapped to the roof.
“You won’t do them any good getting yourself killed,” Jonesy added.
“What’s the holdup? Time’s a wasting,” warned Holbeck.
“Kurt wants to stay,” said Jonesy.
“That’s ridiculous,” muttered Holbeck.
“It’s ridiculous to worry about my wife? My friends?” Kurt snapped, rounding on the sergeant.
“It’s not ridiculous to worry. It’s ridiculous to stand out here with your dick in your hand when you can’t do anything about it.”
“Who says I can’t do anything about it?”
“The men on the wall for one. Listen, Kurt. You’re one of the craziest fuckers I’ve ever met, and I’ve met some crazy bastards. But they knew how to channel that crazy.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Mission priority always takes precedence. At the moment, that’s getting the civilians to safety. Once they’re stowed, I fully intend to come back on foot and scout the castle. With all of us working together, we should be able to come up with a plan.”
“You won’t bring the tanks?” Kurt frowned.
“They’re APCs, but the answer’s still no. They’re too noisy to approach with. Not only will those degenerate fucks inside know we’re coming, so will most of the south coast contingent of the undead. They’ve been golden for hit and run so far, but will be sitting ducks if we don’t have somewhere to call home.”
“I have your word?”
“As soon as we get the people safe, we’re coming back. You have my word.”
Kurt looked back and saw the first zombies reach the trail.
“Damn! Ok, let’s go.
“Where do you think it can be?” asked Holbeck.
Jonesy took the offered map without breaking stride. “He said it was on some kind of bluff. That was why it was so safe. High up, awkward approach, deep within the woods.”
“Seems a stupid place to put a forestry building,” replied Holbeck.
“If we ever find the architect, you can ask him about it.”
“There,” said DB, his meaty finger pointing out a raised point on the topographical map. “It looks like it overlooks some kind of lake.”
“Water as well as a defensible position? Sounds too good to be true. Are you certain?”
“Without ever going there, as certain as I can be. It’s the highest point on the area with the geographical features Ian mentioned.”
“Let’s give it a shot. If it’s a bust, we’ll just have to stay low and stay quiet.”
“There’s one other thing, Sarge,” said Jonesy.
“What’s that?”
“The Nowhere Men.”
Holbeck stared at him for a moment. “Are you messing with me?”
DB shook his head. The concern was plain to see, and it unnerved Holbeck.
“Who are the ′Nowhere Men’?”
“We saw one earlier. He’s the one who wiped out most of the group we stowed with Ian. He’d suffered some kind of head injury, and somehow he’s invisible to the dead.”
“You mean they can’t see him?”
“Can’t see, can’t sense, I’m not sure. But he was guiding them, chasing us with a small horde. He was stood closer to them than we are now and they were oblivious. He even hit them and they didn’t respond.”
“Him?”
“Sarge?”
“You said him, singular, but they’ve got the name Men.”
“There are more than one. At least three according to Irish and Greasy.”
“Irish and Greasy?”
“Two survivors from the estate that was overrun. They’re solid. Dependable.”
“As if this world wasn’t in enough shit,” Holbeck grumbled. “Now we’ve got people using the fucking zombies as their own private army.”
“It might work in our favour, Sarge,” offered Jonesy.
“How so?”
“I’m not sure. But doesn’t the fact that they can move unhindered mean that we may be able to do something similar?”
“You said they had a head injury?”
DB described the sunken skull.
“Sounds like something after a car crash or explosion. By removing bone, it lets the brain heal in its own time, gives it space to accommodate the bruising. Hell, something like that anyway. I saw it on TV.”
“I’d rather keep my head intact,” DB admitted.
“I’m not saying bash our heads in,” said Jonesy. “I’m just saying it’s something to think about.”
“Agreed. Now, we need to take the left at the next fork in the trail. We’re about three miles away as the crow flies. If those fuckers are out there, we’ll need to be even more vigilant.”
Holbeck stopped and held up a hand to still the Warthogs.
Carpenter opened the driver’s door. “Sarge?”
“How far do you think the noise of the engines carry?”
“Out here? Not far, I’d say. The trees absorb a lot of the sound. Why?”
“We might have a new threat that can hear and think far better than the stinking rotters.”
“You’re worried we might draw them to Ian’s camp?”
“That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”
Jonesy shucked off his pack. “Hold here for a few minutes. We’ve put a good distance between ourselves and those following us. I’ll head up the trail a ways and see if I can get an easy bead on the engines.”
“Ok, do it. Five minutes each way, no more.”
“Aye, Sarge. Then get Carpenter to give it a good thrashing,” said Jonesy, jogging away.
“Problem?” Kurt asked.
“Isn’t there always?” muttered Holbeck.
DB quickly explained what they had seen during the boy’s rescue. The doffed cap of the Nowhere Man. The insane look in his eyes. The chase.
Kurt looked skyward, shaking his head with a mixture of rage and impotent frustration. “How about a fucking break, huh?”
& nbsp; “We’ll just add it to the list of FUBAR things we’re dealing with,” said DB. “Don’t forget, they’re still human. Jonesy clipped one of them earlier. If they bleed, they’ll die. We have guns and they don’t.”
“They have millions of zombies,” Kurt countered.
“Fair point.” DB conceded, miserably. The missed shot from earlier would only make them more cautious, with a larger entourage of decaying bodies to use as a meat shield.
Holbeck was glancing at his watch. Jabbing a finger at Carpenter, she complied and gave the Warthog three solid revs. Caught between the twin walls of tree and brush, the noise was deafening. Startled birds took flight, and animal shadows darted away in the undergrowth. Satisfied, Holbeck gave her the thumbs up and Carpenter let it drop back to idle.
“I don’t like their chances,” whispered DB, nodding at the civilians.
The freed people were as vacant as when they had staggered from the perpetual darkness of the solitary isolation wing. Filth added another layer to their overall, pitiful countenance. Stains of yellow and brown marred their rotting clothing. Several had running sores from their horrifically unsanitary imprisonment. Jason and Sally were still flitting between them, offering words of support that may or may not have registered. Nothing in the blank features gave away a conscious understanding that they were now free.
“We get them safe and get them clean. That’s the best we can offer for now.” Holbeck sighed. He prayed there was a way back for the poor people, but he feared the worst as well.
Jonesy appeared, waving a hand. “It’s all good. What I could hear could’ve been coming from anywhere. There was no way to get a bead on it.”
“Thank goodness for that,” said Holbeck. “Let’s move!”
Chapter 2
“We need to get a wriggle on,” said Kurt, shrouded in the gloom of the forest canopy.
“We’ve got about thirty minutes of daylight left. If you can call that grey soup daylight,” Holbeck replied.
“Sarge, I was thinking,” said DB.
“What’s up?”
“Irish was mentioning something about the local HAM radio being used. Ian had walkie talkies too. It might be worth putting a call out to let him know we’re on our way.”
“Do you know the frequency?”
“One forty-four, if my memory isn’t failing.”
Holbeck jumped in beside Carpenter, twisting the dial on the radio. “This is Sergeant Holbeck, travelling with Privates Jonesy and Doughball. Can anyone read me, over?”
Silence replied. Kurt looked skyward, certain the night was settling even faster than predicted. They couldn’t be out after dark. Not with so many defenceless, and more to the point, catatonic people. The cramped tops of the robust APCs looked like high set serving platters.
“Try one forty-six.”
Holbeck adjusted the dial. “I repeat, this is Sergeant Holbeck of Her Majesty’s British Army. I’m with Jonesy and Doughball. I’m trying to reach Ian. Can anyone read me, over?”
A tinny reply came back. “This is Jasper. Ian’s otherwise engaged at the moment. Over.”
“Jasper! Heard a lot about you. It’s good to hear your voice, mate. Can you get him for me? I’m not exaggerating when I say this is a matter of life and death. Over.”
“Whatever they told you about me is a lie. As for Ian… He’s, er… He’s on the toilet. Over.”
“Jasper, it won’t offend me to speak to a man on the shitter. I promise. Over.”
“Ok, stand by. Over.”
Holbeck rolled his eyes at Kurt. The luxury of an uninterrupted bathroom break was one of the first casualties of war. When the sentries called out ‘contact’, you shook off, pulled your trousers up, and grabbed your rifle. The discomfort and stains could wait for later.
“This is Ian. Who am I speaking to, over?” The voice was dull and echoey, hallmarks of a cubicle exchange.
“Ian, this is Sergeant Holbeck. I’m with a few of your friends you met earlier today; Jonesy and DB. Over.”
“What can I do for you, Sergeant? Over.”
“Mate, we’re in the shit. Over.”
“As am I. Literally. How can I help? Over.”
“I hate to impose on you with all you’ve already done, but we need a place to crash. I’ve got civilians that we extracted from the prison. They’re… they’re in a real bad way. Over.”
“How many of you are there? Over.”
“Sixty three. Over.”
The pause said more than words could. Holbeck expected a polite refusal.
“We’ll be ready, Sergeant. Do you know where we are? Over.”
“I think so,” he replied. Knowing less friendly ears may be listening, he laid out a vague, unfollowable explanation of the surrounding land.
“That’s us. Thanks for being cautious. I’ll make sure the fires are stoked and we’ve got food hot and steaming. Over.”
“Ian, we owe you, mate. I’ll make this up to you. Over.”
“Cut the soppy shit. The stew’s heating up and I need to stir it. Over and out.”
Holbeck took a moment. Amidst all the shit of the past few weeks of hell, it was times like this that gave him hope for the future. Knowing a complete stranger would open up his home and hearth to others when the safest option was to stay quiet and stay hidden.
Holbeck smiled.
“Holy shit, did you see that?” gasped Carpenter.
“What?”
“You smiled, Sarge.”
“You’re mistaken. I was yawning.”
“I saw it too,” said DB, peering in from the driver’s window.
“Do you want me to put you on report, Private?”
DB chuckled and moved away. “No, Sarge. Sorry, Sarge.”
“Let’s haul ass. Grub’s waiting!”
Even a few of the haunted civilians looked down at the words. A small boy licked his lips, though his eyes never indicated he had returned from whatever dream he was living.
The incline grew steeper as the Warthogs climbed. Shielded from view, each change in direction on the road provided another thick row of trees and foliage to screen the hidden outpost. Soaring a hundred feet into the air, the ramrod straight trunks of the ancient pines were wrapped with layers of barbed wire that stretched between each tree. In the gloom, Holbeck could make out slumped figures, unmoving, tangled in the defensive line. Likely a rotation of guards would check for any intruders and kill them. Why they didn’t clear the bodies was uncertain. A lack of time, perhaps?
On the fourth turn, the first low stumps came into view. Reaching the peak, the reason for their felling was made clear. Carpenter came off the gas, stopping suddenly enough that Ewington was forced to brake hard to avoid a rear-end collision.
“Holy shit!” she said, stunned.
“I don’t believe it,” gasped Holbeck. It took a lot to shock him, but the sight on the hill topped clearing was enough.
The entire armed column had ground to a halt, gaping in awe.
“I’m afraid those puppies won’t fit through the gate!” called a grinning man as he jogged over. The dying light glinted from his gold tooth.
“Ian!” DB was the first to charge forward, scooping the smaller man up in a bearhug. The ghillie suit was gone, replaced by a thick parka over dirty workwear.
“Hey, dude! I thought I’d got rid of you fuckers,” he replied. “Talk about not knowing when you’re not wanted. I’ve had a couple of girlfriend’s like that.”
“Really?” DB chuckled.
“Nah, it was me that couldn’t take the hint.”
Jonesy joined them, shaking his hand. Holbeck and Kurt followed.
“We owe you,” said Jonesy.
“Your debt grows by the hour,” chuckled Ian. “I’m putting it all on the tab.” Nodding at the sergeant and fierce looking man with a bloodied war hammer, he quickly looked past them at the broken souls riding the armoured steeds. “I see what you mean. Poor fuckers have been through hell. Come on, let’s get them down and inside. We can get them cleaned up and then talk over a good meal.”
The soldiers shouldered their rifles, moving to help Jason and Sally coax the others down from the roofs. Matt jumped down from the back of the transport, cursing.
“Dirty, wee bastard!”
“Where are your crutches?” chided Winston.
