The Dead Spore Collection, page 16
Giles shrugged. “I’m not sure what he’s thinking right now, to be honest. I’m just saddened that those three kiddies had to walk into this. God knows what it will do to their psyches.”
“Come on, Giles. Even to get this far, those kids must have seen their fair share of mutilation already. If anything, it’ll be the kids who handle this better than us adults.”
He nodded. “I suppose, Monique said something very similar. Oh, I saw you chatting with her earlier. I’m so glad about that. I kinda thought there might be trouble between you two?”
“No worries on that score. Just look at them. It’s obviously they’re very much in love. Also, before you ask. I’m not all that interested in Conner either. Have you noticed the dirty looks he keeps giving to Dominic?” She took a sip of the hot liquid, placed the cup between her legs then stood up. “Wait here. I won’t be a moment.”
The two old bastards had yet to unpeel their wrinkly arms from each other’s backs. It looked fucking horrible. If she had her way, She’d feed every one of them to their soldiers.
That thought brought an inner smile to her face. The soldiers didn’t really care about the age of their human females. Jessica placed her hand on the old man’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry about this. I can’t help thinking that I’m somehow responsible for this.” Jessica looked down to the blood-soaked floor and let out a quiet sob.
The old woman immediately embraced her. “How can you even think that, child? They was nothing anyone could have done here.”
“But.” She paused for effect. “But, if you hadn’t then those horrid things wouldn’t have ripped your granddaughter into tiny pieces.”
“Then you wouldn’t have lived, child,” she replied. “You can’t allow yourself to be tormented by this.”
“I suppose.” She paused again before giving these fucking decrepit goons the puppy eyes. “But what if they come back? Shouldn’t we be leaving here and making our way to this new colony?”
The old man shook his head. “Don’t worry about them coming back, young lady. Even if they do, those monsters won’t get inside, we’ve already seen to that.” He looked directly at Dominic. “There’s been complications, Jessica. Don’t worry your pretty head though, we’ll be setting off shortly.” Once he’d said his piece, he took hold of his wife and moved over to the front door, leaving her standing alone, wondering how she hadn’t seen this coming.
“I brought your chocolate over.”
“Thanks,” she replied, wishing this pervy old cunt would just have a heart attack. She’s just have to torture the old man. Jessica didn’t believe it would take too much pain to get him to start singing. Nothing would stop her from completing her mission.
“So, it looks like we’ll be staying a little longer, Jessica,” he said, smiling. “I should have known that they’d want to question our Dominic.”
So that was the complication. How could she be so fucking idiotic? Of course the bastard at the nest would want to check him out too.
“Yeah, Conner is taking him to their base in the morning.” He glanced around the hallway. “I don’t think they’ll keep us here for too long though.”
Jessica took his hand. “It just gives us time to get to know each other.” She squeezed his hand. “I don’t know about you, Giles, bur I so crave a hot, soapy shower. I don’t suppose you want to join me?”
Jessica led him out of the hallway, noting that everybody else was too caught up in their own affairs to notice. Once she had left this idiot for dead, Jessica intended to sneak out and let Mr Macho lead her straight to their nest.
The perv rested his hand on her arse. She giggled, knowing exactly what he wanted to do to her. It was to be her who’d be doing the penetrating. It’s been at least a week since she’d killed a living human with her spike.
Epilogue
Andrew Crofter placed his sweat-soaked hands back under the ceremonial robe and forced himself to take three deep breaths. He hadn’t been this scared for years. He knew, Isaac had somehow found out about his failures. Like so many other who’d displeased their new messiah, Andrew was going to end his miserable existence upon a wooden cross.
He had received the call to attend Brother Isaac in the middle of this morning’s prayers. How he had been able to keep going, to maintain the air of dignity would be the first question that he would be asking the creator once the dead had finished chewing on his bones.
Despite the apparent urgency of the messiah’s call, he still finished his sacred duty. Even now, striding through the grand hallway, Andrew still took the time to exchange venerations for their messiah with two fellow acolytes. He even stopped a couple of times to admire the intricate carvings which covered the grand hallway.
The double doors swung inwards and Brother Isaac’s orderly ushered him into the inner sanctum. The orderly was the ultimate reminder to what happened to anyone who defied the word of their beloved leader. Nobody what the man had said to Brother Isaac but the result was there for everybody to ponder over. Brother Isaac had the man castrated and branded his cheeks with hot irons.
“This way, if you please, Deacon, our beloved messiah awaits your presence.”
He followed the orderly across the thick green carpet, trying to keep his breathing regular despite knowing the he was about to be crucified.
Andrew mentally complied his list of failures, trying to find the least offending offence to open with. The dead had found a way a break from the pheromone trails, moving off the roads and vanishing into the landscape. This time tomorrow, the dead will begin their daylight invasion. Surviving bands of the unjust still infected their Eden and the infected started to show early signs of tribal activity.
Perhaps he ought to lead with the first one? After all, what difference did it make that the dead had broken from their conditioning? They were all due to return to the earth soon anyway.
Andrew fell to his knees at the sight of their messiah. He pushed his face into the fibre, still attempting to figure out how to convey all this terrible news without it ending in the messiah’s executioners driving nine inch nails into his hands and feet.
“I’m pleased you could attend to me, Deacon,” said Isaac.
Andrew tried not to cringe when the man rested his hands on the deacon’s head.
“Do you think, if it’s possible, for you to recite our weapon’s inventory?”
He lifted his head off the carpet. Andrew had not prepared for that question. “Erm, you wish to know every item that we possess, sir?”
“It isn’t necessary to list every single bullet, just the basics.”
He ran tongue over both lips. “We have enough small arms to equip every acolyte, several heavy machine guns. The military helicopters in the hands of our outside agents can take down any civilian vehicle and…” Andrew’s voice trailed off when he saw Isaac had wondered off. He had picked up a yucca plant and was gently stroking its thick leaves. Had he finally lost his way?
“Sir, I regret to inform you that the dead no longer adhere to prescribed chemical trails.”
Isaac grinned. He placed the plant back on its ornate stand. “I know that already, my son. The modified gene markers in the medulla oblongata have completely dissolved. The dead are not going anywhere.”
“But, how did you…?”
“How did I know?” Isaac sighed. “The creator appeared to me in a vision, my noble servant. Our path is now clear.”
Andrew wanted to go to the toilet.
“We were not meant to just walk out of here and embrace our new land. We will be fighting for every inch.” A manic grin spread across Isaac’s face. “and it is going to be glorious!”
To be continued
Kingdoms of the Dead
By
Ian Woodhead
Prologue
He slid the tip of his forefinger down the monitor, cutting his younger brother’s frozen face in half. Ishmael-el-Siddique had never been given the opportunity to say goodbye, as all communication from the planet had ceased ten days ago. He gazed through the thick glass window down at the surface hundreds of miles below. The citystates were dying, their lights extinguishing one by one. His citystate burned, as did its neighbours. How long would it be before all of the planet’s lights went out? Ishmael-el-Siddique flicked the play switch and listened to his brother thanking him for the photograph, and how excited and privileged he must feel about being the first man from the North Arabia Citystate to reach space. He turned off the recording before his foolish brother recited his stupid verse about how the citystates from space were like a million fireflies, frozen in time.
Why was he even wasting such time on this sentimental nonsense? An officer in the North Arabian Rocket battalion should not allow the trivialities of family bonds to impede his duty to protect his citystate from her enemies.
Yet how could he fight an enemy that he did not understand? His weapons platform passed over another continent. His view showed him more citystates, each one in the same situation. Only one rectangular block of white light showed no signs of conflict. Could this be his enemy?
Ishmael-El-Siddique’s fingers glided over the control switches that gave him access to the fifteen nuclear-tipped Dragonfire missiles already prepped and ready to fire. The codes had been released when the North Arabian Citystate’s primary communications went offline. He could fire at any target at will.
The urge to lock every one of those missiles on that strange area of light gripped him hard. Just to do something, no matter how pointless. Deep down he knew that this catastrophe wouldn’t be their problem; unlike the other citystates, their forces must be better equipped to deal with this unknown terror. That must be the only reason for their continued survival.
The weapons platform passed over the surviving citystate and zeroed in on what was left of his home region. He despaired at the sight as he saw that the Persian Empire had ceased to exist. All the zones within their vast fortified boundary now burned.
He ejected the plastic recording block containing his brother’s last message and pushed in the last block that he’d recorded before the shouts for help turned into inhuman screams. Ishmael-el-Siddique listened once more to his immediate commander spouting out his lies about the dead not staying dead, about the corpses attacking and eating the flesh of the living.
The North Arabian officer slammed his fist down on the device, cutting off the recording in mid-sentence. He refused to listen to such foolishness. Ishmael-el-Siddique watched as the lights from citystates continued to snuff out, until only one light was left blazing upon the dark surface.
One single firefly refused to die.
Chapter One
His pursuer took great care not to snag his uniform jacket as he squeezed through the gap between the two columns of packing crates. Kenny Nelson dropped to the floor, hoping that he hadn’t been spotted. He crawled over to the remains of a mattress. The cramp spreading down his left leg let him know he wouldn’t be outrunning an armed constable. Cramp … who would have thought the dead would be burdened with such pain?
He pushed his face against the tattered fabric, focusing on the stinking wet stench filling his nostrils rather than the sour reek of his body odour, the dull pain in his leg, or the rising sound of those heavy boot steps.
Even after four long, miserable years, Kenny’s mind and body wouldn’t allow him to forget his impossible resurrection. Of all the millions of souls the plague of death had taken, Kenny believed that only he had risen with his humanity hanging by a thread.
Right now, his thread had frayed to the point of snapping. If he didn’t get his injection, Kenny’s joints would stiffen and the cold would grip his body, and this time the sickness would not release him. He’d be dead for sure this time. After that, there would be no stopping that urge to bite into sweet human meat.
The scraping of metal against stone jolted Kenny back into the present. His fevered mind took a moment to orientate. Although the sensation of zoning out lingered, he retained enough sense not to laugh at the approaching figure despite his comical appearance.
The city’s founders had made these people. The position of civilian constable drew nasty fuckers like this clown like flies to a shitty blanket. They only had one purpose, to track down and ‘deal’ with any worker suspected of denying their body the drug that kept them from turning.
To any sane person, the prospect of actually wanting to change into some walking bag of rotting meat bent on the single purpose of consuming human flesh should fill their minds with horror.
Kenny took his eyes off the straggly youth and looked at his decrepit surroundings, Most of the outerzones looked just like this alleyway; greys and browns dominated the built-up landscape. The smell of unwashed bodies, combined with the stench of discarded garbage, stung his nostrils. Their world reeked of regret, debris, and despair. There weren’t many sane people in Kenny’s life. The ones he saw kept their heads down whilst eking out a living the best they could.
Some of them did allow the process to accelerate. Their lives had no meaning. For them, the change couldn’t come quick enough. If only the constables sought out these lost human souls instead of going after people like him.
That would never happen; those bastards received a cash bonus for every suspected worker they stopped. Why go after the ones that matter when any harmless vagrant would do just as well? It’s not like they could prove that their victims weren’t infected, considering everyone had that vile muck running through their veins.
Not only did this fucker have a rusted blade in his hand, the bastard also carried a portable scanner. Kenny found his fingers reaching up to the branded lines on his forehead and forced his hand back down.
No way could he allow the constable to swipe that hateful machine over his mark of shame. Even if he did give this one the slip, there’d be yet another one of them on his tail. Those bastards enjoyed hunting down the marked ones. It made their life so much easier when the bounties could be tracked down. He’d be dead in an hour.
He rolled onto his other side and looked down the length of the darkened alley. Would he be able to reach those metal drums without the constable spotting his fleeing form and opening fire?
Why did he allow such dangerous notions to tempt his exhausted body? Of course he wouldn’t get to the end of the alley without that bastard blowing a hole in his back. If Kenny did reach the other side, somebody in the square would spot him. Even from this distance, he saw the lurid images displayed on one of the city’s streetscreens. There would be somebody hanging around, watching it. There always were one or two glassy-eyed losers staring up at the building-sized screen, broadcasting an endless supply of twisted game shows.
If that fucker didn’t have the scanner, Kenny, by rights, shouldn’t have been too concerned over the sudden appearance of a lone constable. Like everyone else in the walled capital city, Kenny was supposed to keep his tired body supplied with the essential drug that kept him from changing. Thanks to his current misfortune though, the only way of getting his regular supply was to visit a medi-center, to allow one of the ‘so-called’ nurses to inject him. Kenny rubbed his forehead again. It had been two weeks since he’d last visited one of those hellish places. Kenny got his drug from other means now.
Kenny ran his tongue along his cracked lips, watching his pursuer stop to scratch his nose. The constable didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry to root him out. Maybe he just wanted to … lunging forward, he wrapped his hand around what, at first, looked like a pile of discarded clothing.
The constable had stumbled upon a sleeping vagrant. Was he a stray medi-center deserter, like Kenny? The constable shook the vagrant, like a dog shaking a rabbit, before dropping him on the ground. Kenny squeezed his eyes shut, his tiny groan lost under the gunshot. Unable to stop himself, Kenny groaned again. The bastard didn’t even scan the poor man’s forehead.
The spluttering noise issuing from Kenny wasn’t just due to him witnessing that execution; his last supply of drugs keeping death at bay were wearing off. The cold was already creeping into his body. If he survived detection for the next few minutes, Kenny wouldn’t give a fuck about hiding from some teenage government constable. He wouldn’t care that his sister was supposed to be rushing back with a fresh supply of Beldazine. All Kenny would care about was closing his jaws around that bastard’s neck and ripping off pieces of his soft flesh.
Kenny’s foot rebelled against the cramp in a spasm, knocking his leg against a rusting tin can. The constable jerked his head away from the bloodied rags by his feet, staring at where Kenny cowered behind the mattress.
The dim yellow glow coming from the old streetlight above them allowed Kenny to see a nasty smile spread slowly across the uniformed bastard’s face.
The constable teased, “Come on out. You don’t have to be scared of me. I ain’t gonna hurt you. Look, I know you’re in there.”
Kenny tried to resist the ice crystallizing in his blood. There was still a chance that his sister would come back. He couldn’t give up.
“Look, I haven’t got all night, you know. I know what you want. I have loads of the stuff.” He gripped his belt. “It’s medicinally pure as well. I bet it's been a long time since you’ve shot-up with anything this good. Come on, friend. Out you get. You know I only want to take care of you.”
Kenny formed a tight fist, feeling his ragged nails dig into his palm; the pain helped his mind resist those hypnotic words.
Oh God. It would be effortless to let go, to give in to the disease, Even now, Kenny felt the cold dead minds of the others out there so eager for him to join their ranks. There weren’t that many of the true walking dead left within their walled city, not any more. But there were enough of them out there to have the strength to scratch at his thoughts, eager for him to join their number.
