Hellspawn | Book 8 | Hellspawn Vengeance, page 19
part #8 of Hellspawn Series
“We wait,” replied Mrs Hampton. “Their world will be ours.”
Chapter 36
Winston and Peter gradually slowed to a stop on the road. Atop the trees they could see the smoke trails of the nearby camp. Unable to shake the feeling, Winston glanced around at the woodland, certain they were being watched. Which would make perfect sense. The people they were hoping to talk to were natural survivors. Lookouts were to be expected.
“What now?” asked Peter. With each passing mile, his hasty decision to volunteer seemed more foolhardy.
“I guess we go and knock?” Winston replied.
Using a mental cosh to beat down his inner coward, Peter slipped his foot back onto the pedal. He needed to do this. He owed Paige this much. Why wasn’t he more like Braiden? The youth was utterly unshakeable. There were no question marks and doubts slowing him down. Mike had killed Paige, so Mike had to die. He couldn’t accept Mr Hay’s word for the ghastliness of his fate. The teenager needed to see it for himself, even if that meant putting himself in mortal danger.
They pushed off and cycled around the bend in the road. Between two cottages was the track they needed. Both felt the handlebars trying to steer them away from danger, but they gritted their teeth and pressed harder on the pedals. The frozen earth crackled under the rubber of the tyres.
“Would you look at that?” gasped Peter as they closed in on the camp.
Matt’s description didn’t do the fortress justice. A dull drone rose from the moat as they approached. The towering scaffold gatehouse loomed over them. Impassive eyes watched their approach, rifles and machine guns held ready. Peter balked at the automatic weapons. They weren’t army issue, more like the guns he’d seen on TV. What were they called? Kalashnikov? A Russian weapon in British survivor’s hands? It was just another oddity to add to the day’s list of what-the-fuckery.
Winston ignored the glares and stepped closer. He had to see the sight for himself. “Jesus,” he muttered at the thousands of part rotten, frozen faces peering up at him. “That’s pretty cool! Beats having water. You wouldn’t want to swim across that lot, would you?.”
“You two are in the wrong place,” warned one of the sentries.
“That depends on your definition of wrong place,” replied Winston. “We’re trying to find our friend.”
“Go get Lennie and Mrs H,” said the guard before turning back to the two trespassers. “You’ve got no friend’s here, friend.”
“Then let’s become friends. I’m Winston,” he said, offering a hand. Winston pumped the air, imitating a firm shake. “There. Now we’re friends. This is Peter.”
“Peter can’t talk for himself?” asked the guard.
“He looks a little nervous,” said another and the men laughed.
People appeared from cover around the cottages and woodland to the rear, converging on their position. Soon, they were surrounded on all sides.
“Erm, how about a welcome present?” offered Winston. Their general air of silent menace was beginning to grate. Pushing the bike forward, he continued, “It’s a ladies model with fifteen speed gear shift. Front and rear suspension. The saddle is a little lumpy, but it’ll be a good first time bike for someone. It’s even got a bell.” He plucked the lever which chimed cheerfully.
“We don’t need bikes,” said the guard, unsmiling.
“You haven’t even tried it yet,” replied Winston. “Maybe your wife would like it?”
“She prefers horses.”
“So…” Peter croaked shrilly. He coughed to clear the lump of fear. “So, have you seen our friend or not?”
“What’s going on?” asked a gruff voice. A giant climbed the scaffold, gently holding the arm of a woman who followed.
“Unwanted guests, Lennie. What do you want done with them?”
Lennie looked them up and down. “What’re you doing here? Are you that keen to die?”
“We’re looking for our friend, that’s all,” said Peter. “We were hoping you could help us.”
“Mrs Hampton?” Lennie said to the woman. “What do you think?”
She started at them. She stared through them. Both Winston and Peter felt scrutinised on a far deeper level than the dirt on their skin and the clothes on their back. “What’s your friend’s name?”
“Braiden.”
“There’s no Braiden here,” Mrs Hampton replied.
“We might’ve beaten him here?” Winston suggested.
“Where else can we look?” Peter replied.
“Wait!” called Lennie. “I know you.” He pointed directly at Peter.
“I don’t think so. I’d remember a guy as big as you.”
“You wouldn’t have seen me, but I definitely saw you. At the prison.”
“Ahh,” Peter replied. “Yeah.”
“You don’t seem to have come out the worse for wear.”
“It was a fun couple of hours,” Peter joked, but the faces regarded him without humour.
“You handled yourself well. Where’s your sword?”
Peter twisted and flashed the weapon hanging from his belt. “Broadsword. Good weight to cleave.”
“They were at the prison?” snapped Mrs Hampton. “Take them!”
The men moved to obey until a fierce cry stilled them. It came from one of the nearby cottages. “Nobody move! Or I’ll kill him!”
“Braiden!” Winston gasped as the youth stepped into view, his machete pressed firmly against the throat of another traveller.
“What the hell are you doing here? I didn’t need anyone to follow me!”
“As if we could just let you go alone.”
“I needed to know!” Braiden declared.
“So do I!” Peter snapped. “I loved her too!”
“As interesting as this all is, you’d better drop the blade and start talking or I’ll throw the three of you in the pit,” warned Lennie.
“I’ll drop the blade if you promise us answers and safe passage!” Braiden countered.
Pistols and rifles were brought to bear, ready to end the strangers. Mrs Hampton lifted her arm, as simple as that, and the weapons were lowered.
“I promise answers. Safe passage? I’m afraid I can’t until I know more. Now let Ciaran go and come closer, or cut his throat and die with him.”
Braiden released the furious man, but one glance from the matriarch was enough to hold off any retaliatory attack. He skulked away, dabbing at the narrow cut.
“Well?” she asked.
“You’ve got someone I want,” Braiden explained. Looking at Peter, he amended the words. ”We want.”
“And who might that be?” she asked, quietly.
“Mike Arater.”
Mrs Hampton cocked her head. “A friend of yours?”
“I’m going to kill him.”
Her face broke out in a wry smile. “Really? And why would you want to do that?”
“He killed someone that I loved.”
“An eye for an eye, eh?” she replied. “The oldest story ever told.”
“What was her name?” asked Lennie.
“Paige,” said Peter, with difficulty.
“How did he do it?”
“He betrayed us. Tried to kill me and my dad. She died to save us.”
“Where?”
“What difference does it make? If you have him, I want him. I’ve got a job to finish,” Braiden seethed, pulling out his sharpened screwdriver.
“I’ll decide what makes a difference,” said Mrs Hampton. “Where?”
“The hospital in Chichester. St Richards. We’d heard there was an army outpost there.”
“And?”
“There wasn’t. We barely made it out of the city.”
“No thanks to Mr Arater?”
Braiden shook his head.
“And if I were to show you to him, you’d kill him?”
“You do have him then?”
“How about you all come in and have a cup of tea. Once we’ve talked, I’ll think about taking you to him. Ok?”
“We have your word that you’ll let us go?” asked Peter.
“Not yet,” Mrs Hampton replied. “But you’ve intrigued me, and that’s no easy thing in these strange days.”
“In that case, I’ll take three sugars please,” said Winston as the massive drawbridge clattered into position.
Mrs Hampton smiled, but the cheer didn’t reach her eyes.
Chapter 37
Faces full of mistrust stared as they walked through the camp. All the caravans were pristine. Some had makeshift shelters erected adjoining them, horses whickering as they shuffled around the fresh hay inside. Winston had been expecting filth, like something out of a true apocalypse, but the alleys and pre-zombie constructed roads were immaculate. Smoke was pouring from the blacksmith’s chimney. Trying not to picture the horrifying tales Matt had told, Winston started to whistle. With dry lips it was more a rattling, blowing noise, so he immediately stopped. Their entourage saw, but said nothing. He prayed to Mary, Jesus, and Zeus that they assumed it was nerves, which wasn’t exactly a lie.
Lennie opened the door to a massive trailer and waited. Winston held out a hand by the steps and said, “Ladies first.”
“A gentleman?” sighed Mrs Hampton climbing the steps. “How refreshing. Please, come in and make yourselves at home.”
Winston offered to let Lennie follow, but the huge gypsy just stood scowling at him.
“I guess you’re no lady,” said Winston. His face twisted into a grimace as soon as the words had left his lips. “Er, I meant… I dunno.” He promptly scurried inside before he could be shot.
Peter and Braiden slipped into the seats around the dining table and Winston joined them, cheeks burning. Lennie ducked inside, following closely. Everything was pristine, from the furniture to the expensive carpet. There was an underlying smell that Peter knew was the ever pervasive stench of the undead. Considering how many were in the zombie moat, the smell was bound to carry, even in the cold winter air.
Mrs Hampton was the consummate host, favouring them with beautiful china for their brew. Swirling the teapot, she topped them all off and offered a small jug.
“Is this real milk?” Winston gaped at the liquid.
“Of course. Direct from the udder to your mouth. Well, with a quick stop in there first of course.”
“I love you.” Winston marvelled as the white nectar trickled into the cup.
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough,” he said solemnly, meeting her gaze.
She chuckled. “Would you like a whole glass?”
“Only if you’ve got some spare. I don’t want to be greedy.”
Mrs Hampton nodded to Lennie who left the caravan. “Right, gents. Tell me about yourselves. I’m guessing you’re not lactose intolerant.”
“I can eat a whole block of cheese, if that’s what you mean,” replied Winston, supping at the sweet brew. “I’ve done it.”
“As charming as that is, Lennie says you were fighting at the prison. You’re not with them, are you? That would bring our new relationship to a quick end.”
“We’re at war with them,” Peter snarled.
Mrs Hampton sat back and cocked her head a little. “Interesting. That doesn’t explain what you were doing there, or how you knew about the place.”
“We’d known about the prison since the first weeks. We’d passed it before and saw the lunatics in charge killing guards. On the day you saw us, we’d seen the aftermath of the explosion. There was smoke rising on the horizon. We knew what those animals kept locked up, so we went to save them.”
“What had they locked up?”
“Civilians. People that hid there before the prisoners took over. Men, women, children. Innocents.”
“Why do I feel that’s not the whole story?”
Peter glanced at Braiden who had said nothing. There was little chance they didn’t know about the castle anyway, so he continued. “While we were fighting our way into the segregation block to get them out, the bastards attacked our home. Arundel Castle.”
“So it was you that took that old place over. Bravo, by the way,” she said, clapping gently. “It’s a good pick. High walls. Water. Decent crop of land.”
“Thank you. You’ve not done so bad yourself here.”
“We manage.”
“Not that it matters now, anyway. When we got back, they were in control.”
“They?”
“The Fowlers. A pair of brothers who were at odds with the Araters. I think they tried to take over before the wall blew.” Peter almost kicked himself. His nerves were making him sing like a canary. Mrs Hampton was studying him intently, wondering where the information had come from. If they found out about Matt, all bets were off. “Jason, the engineer we saved, he told us all about it. It was one of his tunnels that blew.”
She stared silently for a few seconds and Peter heard the cup start to chime against the saucer as he trembled. “It was,” she finally replied. “And they did. They were fools.”
“What does that make us?” Peter asked, miserably. “They took our home right from under our noses.”
“A quirk of fate and some bad luck. Even idiots can strike it lucky on occasion. Lennie tells me you had some impressive friends with you. Military. Heavy guns. How did the army become involved?”
“It’s a long story,” said Peter.
“Do you have somewhere else to be?”
“I’m due for a perm at three,” said Winston.
Mrs Hampton ignored him. It was obvious she’d picked Peter as the leader due to his age. How could he explain that the two boys at his side were far more suited to the role than he could ever be. Taking the mantle in spite of his gut twisting fear, he said, “What I have to say affects you and your people too, Mrs Hampton. I hope us talking like this shows that we’re not your enemy.”
She pondered Peter’s point. “The enemy of my enemy? Is that it?”
Lennie returned with a full pitcher of milk. Pouring a glass for Winston, he slipped it across the table. The teenager gave him a thumbs up and his most winning smile. “Thanks!”
Lennie growled.
“Now, now. Our young friend was just being grateful.”
Lennie grunted and left.
“Don’t mind him. He’s just protective.”
“Family’s everything,” said Winston.
“It really is. Peter, please continue.”
“Knowing what’s coming, I sincerely believe in that enemy of my enemy stuff. The army at Thorney Barracks have been scouting the area with their drones. London and the larger cities have begun to empty. Millions of the dead are on their way south towards us. Others are headed west. There’s not much left of the army itself, but a couple of thousand troops were forced into the Chiltern Mountains. The soldiers we were fighting with wanted to use the castle as a safe haven for their own civilians. One less thing to worry about and all that. We’d shelter them while they tried to beat the horde to their trapped soldiers.”
“How long do we have?”
“They said a matter of days, but I think the cold has extended that to a couple of weeks.”
“I’ve seen the darkness coming, but I thank you for confirming my visions.”
“They’re not even the worst of it, Mrs H,” said Winston.
“Go on.”
“I’m not sure you’ll even believe me. We’ve never seen anything like it before. We came across a group of survivors under attack. Their homes had been destroyed by strange people. They called them the Nowhere Men.”
“Nowhere Men?”
“They seem to be invisible to the dead. Or at least that’s how it looks. They can walk amongst them without being eaten. The only thing out of the ordinary is they all have a really bad looking head injury.”
“Like someone had buried a metal bar into their skull?”
Winston nearly dropped his cup. “Yeah! Exactly like that! Going from here to here.” He pointed a finger at his own head and traced a line.
“My people have encountered them,” she replied, her placid face scrunching with hatred, showing some of her true nature.
“Encountered?” Peter pressed, carefully.
“Out on the road. I wasn’t sure what to make of their stories, but it seems everything has been corroborated. They tried to chase my scouts down with their dead and I brushed it off as just another wandering horde. They’ve not come into our territory properly as far as we can tell.”
“So far.”
She calmed down and smiled. “Yes, so far.”
“It looks like we’re already allies,” offered Winston.
“That remains to be seen, my milk loving friend.”
A series of thuds came from the bedroom at the end of the caravan. The guests all looked towards the narrow door.
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, my son’s hungry. Would you mind if I fed him before we go and see your old adversary?”
“Of course not,” replied Peter. “Your house, your rules.”
The look that she favoured them with was ice cold. “Indeed.”
She shuffled off and let herself into the room, talking quietly.
Winston turned to his brother. “Bray, when we see Mike, you need to keep your cool.”
“I’m going to kill him.”
“I’m going to help.”
“Look, I know what he did to you both, but…”
“But what?” Braiden barked.
“I…” How could he explain the conflicting emotions surrounding their relationship. Winston had grown to like the murderer, as insane as that seemed. The furious gazes of Peter and Braiden left no room for argument. “He was ok to me,” Winston added, miserably.
“He was… ok to you? Are you fucking kidding me?” Braiden looked as if he wanted to attack him. “He killed our friend!”
“I know he did!” Winston fired back. “It’s just… I saw something else in him, that’s all.”
“The only thing he’s going to have in him is my screwdriver. Buried in his eye socket,” Braiden growled.
Winston slumped down in defeat. “I get it. It was stupid of me to say anything. I was… I don’t know…”
