Deadhead: A Zombie Apocalypse Thriller, page 11
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
BALDWIN
A grating, repeating sound brought with it images of mouths chewing, gnawing at flesh. Blood spurting across the pale blue faces with white eyes. Baldwin wanted to scream, but all she could do was watch in silence…
She awoke then immediately regretted her new conscious state as pain emanated from most of her body. She was on her back, looking up at the cement ceiling of Howard’s bunker.
“She’s awake, she’s awake!” said a young voice.
Baldwin tried to lift her head to view the girl.
“No, no,” said Howard. “Don’t move. You’ll tear the butterfly stitches I put on you.”
“What… happened…” She tried to remember the events before she passed out.
“I managed to get you in the SUV and back here. That’s what happened. A few seconds later and you and your friend—”
She sat up a little, groaning with the effort. “Mathew…”
“He’s in the other room.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want Fran to see him…”
Memories of pulling a group of the undead away, that were clung to Mathew’s body parts rushed into her mind. At the time she just did what came naturally, but laying in the cool air of the underground room, she knew he had to be dead. “Is he…”
“Dead? No. Just… and I mean, just, alive.” Baldwin heard the old man sigh.
“What?”
“I hope he doesn’t play the piano.”
“Uh?”
“The biters got all his fingers. Just bloody stumps were left…”
A wave of nauseousness came to her, and she heaved, but nothing erupted from her mouth as there was hardly any food within her.
Howard moved to the sink at the end, poured some water, and sat at the end of the long sofa where she was laying. “Here.”
She took a few sips, shaking her head. “No fingers…”
“They also had a good feed on his face. Good part of it missing—” She felt sick again. “But the lifeform should heal that. Not the fingers, though. It can’t heal what’s not there. I’ve bandaged him where I could, but I haven’t got endless supplies.”
Baldwin thought of Liz, then nodded. “Thank you for saving us.”
“Was there anyone else with you? I’d never seen a horde that big before, well… apart from in the cities… they must be in the forests… hard to see them until they are on top of you.”
Images of Anita screaming, her limbs being puled and ripped came to Baldwin, being quickly pushed away to a place where she hoped the memories would die. “Yes. She’s dead.”
“Sorry to hear.” Howard got to his feet. “I reached your friends on the radio.”
Baldwin looked up. “You talked to them?” She tried to swing her feet around to the floor, but quickly gave up.
“They know about your condition and your friends. I didn’t know about the other woman. I’ll tell them now.” He walked to the end of the room, sat and began talking into the mike.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
JOE
The slither of glass that were the basement windows, were on the wrong side of the building to gather the evening sun. Instead, the flames outside tinted what light there was, bathing everyone in the large room in red.
Joe’s eyes swept across the soot and blood smeared faces of the young and old, those that had survived largely undamaged from their most recent encounter with the undead to the only one in the building that did not.
Jenn stood over Tyrone’s body which was covered in one of the sheets from upstairs. The cotton material now stained a different, darker colour.
The sound of static from Mathew’s computer, which he had transformed into a digital radio receiver, had been turned down. Howard has passed on the news of what had had happened to the group of three. And that only two of them made it to his bunker and even those, just barely.
Joe searched for words that would help, but it was Jenn that spoke first.
“We can’t stay here,” she said. “They will know we are here. They will come.”
“And go where?” said Ember.
Swanson nodded in agreement. “What’s going to be better than a literal fucking castle?”
“Caves…” said the General. “Something underground.”
“Caves? You got to be joking?” continued the Londoner. “We all gonna live in some bloody caves?” He looked around the room, looking for support, but most just looked away.
Jenn turned around. “It will be dark soon. That’s when we need to leave.”
Lauren looked at the windows as smoke drifted by, then back to Jenn. “There’s still a lot of the undead out there. There’s no way we get out of here without a fight.”
“I’m aware, colonel.”
Some in the room looked at Joe. He knew what they wanted. But ‘hope’ wasn’t something he had much of right now. “Jenn’s right. We can’t stay here.”
“What about Nell and Baldwin?” said Liz, seated near him with Tia and Hope.
“We need vehicles. Something large and heavy. We pick them up from Howard’s, then drive away.”
“They never managed to get supplies to Enzo…” said Grace.
Jenn nodded. “Someone will need to take the skiff to him, drop some off, then get back to us before we leave.”
“I’ll go,” said Aiden. “I don’t need to take the boat. I know the back lanes. I can ride my bicycle. It’s quiet, and there are plenty of small boats where the trawler is moored…”
Jenn looked at Joe who nodded, then back at the American. “Okay. You’ll need to be back here by midnight. Can you do that?”
“Hour there, hour back. Hour getting him the supplies. Gives me an hour to spare. Yes, not a problem.”
Jenn looked at Aaron and Joe. “You need to find us vehicles. And you got four hours to do it.”
“What about Clara?” said Ember.
“There’s nothing we can do for her right now.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CLARA
Evidently Clara’s medical went well. The Matron’s smile never faltered while the doctor was looking Clara over from head to toe while pinging questions at her. ‘She was perfect,’ said the older woman. ‘Just what they’re looking for.’
Clara did her best not to shudder, but did so anyway, making an excuse about how cold she was, standing there naked.
She was back in her dorm room. The other three beds currently empty. She hadn’t seen her roommates, not knowing if she even had any, but was glad to be alone while she stood at the window, contemplating how she could escape. The view through the glass gave her a good idea of the grounds, which sloped down to the trees and the sea beyond, which glistened from the setting sun. She was still stuck with the problem of getting across the strait. Even if she got away without being seen from the facility, they would soon know she was missing and come looking and if she hadn’t managed to leave the island they would quickly find her. She needed to know where the boats were to have some chance of making it to the mainland.
If she was honest, a tiny part of her wished the ‘Daughter’s of Eden’ were real. That this oasis amongst the madness actually was trying to be a haven for people. But the men with guns, the helicopter she had seen earlier and every reference to ‘Michael’ told her otherwise. There was also the small matter of being abducted…
And the note from the red-head.
She had chewed on it then tore it into small fragments. Then, when no one was watching, buried the pieces amongst the dirt behind the bench. She wanted nothing to do with whoever this woman was. Why was Ellie so special? She would have to find her own—
There was a brief knock on the bedroom door behind, causing Clara’s thoughts to freeze in her mind. Without turning around, she waited for the door to open. For men to appear and drag her kicking and screaming to the ‘birthing chamber.’ The place of nightmares. Instead, nothing happened. No one entered.
She turned around, immediately spotting the rectangular piece of paper on the floor and felt her stomach fall. It was another note. How did Ellie know where she was?
She sighed then walked to it, listening for any sound on the other side of the door, then on not hearing any, swiftly picked it up and returned to the window, where there was just enough light to read the writing.
‘For Clara.’
Shit, she thought. Somehow, this Ellie knew her name as well.
She glanced at the door, then pulled the folded piece of paper open and began reading.
‘My name is Ellie. I was abducted and brought here three days ago. I know this happened to you too, as it has to all the women here. Even the ones that were on the island before the—’
The boards outside the bedroom creaked, then fell silent again as someone continued walking past. Clara let out a breath then carried on reading.
‘— dead rose. I’m a journalist. I’m good at finding things out and I know the man they call Michael used to be a wealthy businessman on the island. Had connections with the government. They’re doing something on this island that they need women for, but I don’t know what. We need to get out of here and try to find others to help these women. If we stay, we will become part of the plan they have for these people. You have to help me. I have a way to escape but it requires two people. You’re the newest here. You’re my hope. Meet me later behind the greenhouse at half past midnight. Ellie.’
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
AIDEN
The trees were a blur as Aiden cycled along the country lane. He had oiled the chain before leaving, just to be doubly sure that there would be no more squeaking, and so far, for an hour, as he cycled south, he had not seen any of the dead. It was as if the old building on the hill had acted as a lighthouse, drawing them all towards it for miles around. Anyway, it made for a pleasant ride during the final moments of an eventful day.
He knew the area well, having ridden it a few times in the past week, so despite the long shadows and gloom, was able to navigate the narrow concrete road which led down to the riverfront and small marina, where he had seen boats before. If the trawler hadn’t moved, then it would only take ten or so minutes of rowing to get to it, and the man onboard.
As the last vestiges of the day’s sunlight faded and the small boats gently bobbed and swayed within the waves, he hopped off the bicycle then lifted it a little, making sure to make as little noise as possible as he carried it across the planks of a wooden deck, then onto weed infested grass, where he laid it down. He immediately spotted the boat he wanted. A ten-foot rubber skiff which was tied to the jetty and ran down to it, while scanning the trees behind for any sign of movement.
Checking his watch, he untied the rope, stepped into the boat, picked up the oars and without pause began pulling the small vessel through the water. It wasn’t long before he was in the middle of the wide river and passing below a substantial bridge.
The trawler was an obvious silhouette amongst the grey-mauve water a little further ahead, but there was no light.
As he got closer he began to wonder if the boat was even manned by anyone. Perhaps the captain had found his way to the shore? Maybe he needed supplies and couldn’t wait any longer for the others to come?
Either way, he had to be sure.
He moved the skiff alongside the larger vessel, clinging onto the net which he tied the rope to, then with the backpack on his shoulders, climbed up, and with a little effort clambered over the—
Light flooded his senses, blinding him, causing him to throw his hands up to protect his face. “Enzo!” he shouted. “Is that you? Enzo?”
“How you know my name?”
Aiden’s vision began to gain some clarity. The Spaniard was holding a gun, pointing straight at him. “Joe sent me! I’m here to give you supplies! Don’t shoot me!”
“Joe? Joe’s a common name. Joe who?”
“I don’t know! But there’s also Jenn and… and… a woman, called Clara.. she’s been taken.”
“Taken?”
“Yes. People took her. We don’t know where… can I lower my hands and can you get that light out of my eyes?”
“Si, si… fine.” Enzo lowered the torch. “Are the others okay?”
Aiden let out a breath, placing the backpack on the ground. “No. Not really. They came to my place, a big old building.”
“Si, the castle?”
“Yes, but it was attacked by a huge horde of the dead. A few thousand.” He pulled the flap open, pulling out a large bottle of water, and offered it forward.
Enzo took it, pulling the cap off, his joy obvious within the gloom as Aiden reached back into the bag. “Finally!” said the Spaniard, tipping his head back. “Tomorrow I was going to—”
The explosive pop sound echoed across the water, lingering for a moment, as did Enzo, who looked down at the blood pouring from his chest. His mouth opened as words gathered in this throat, confusion obvious in his eyes. He tried to lift his hand, which still held his own weapon, but the second shot caused the captain of the trawler to fall backwards against the wall of the wheelhouse, everything spilling from his grip.
As Enzo slid slowly to the deck, his eyes wide and white, his killer placed the handgun back in the pack and replaced it with a long hunting knife. The man known as Aiden had always preferred a knife to a gun, but he so rarely was able to use bullets, that this time, he couldn’t help himself. Anyway, who was going to hear?
He grabbed Enzo by the throat, lifting him slightly as the Spaniard’s hands did their best to be of use, to try and stop what was about to happen.
“I could let you turn, but there’s no fun in killing the dead.” He sighed. “And the living are in such short supply. At least around here.” He turned around to face the coming darkness. “Special Agent, Finch, you old bastard! You thought you had me, didn’t you! But now look at me! Still doing what I do best.” He placed the long blade at the side of Enzo’s ear and slowly but firmly pushed.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
JOE
Joe laid low within the reeds, using all his senses to locate any of the undead on the west side of the river. Unlike where the castle was located, this side had plenty of abandoned vehicles including the one they left the day before. But they needed more. Maybe a van or a truck. The issue was getting them started. Unless they were over twenty years old, he was going to have to find the keys, which was down to pure luck.
His throat prickled from the smoke he and three others had to absorb as they rushed through the flames, then forest to get to the skiff, all while avoiding the undead. The darkness made it possible, but they still had to take care of a small group of wandering dead bodies, when they arrived at the river bank.
“Is that the one?” said Swanson, pointing at the silhouette of a large vehicle, left abandoned in the centre of the road, just ahead of them.
“That’s it,” said Joe. “When I reconnect the wires it should start.”
“And we start to attract them…” said Lauren.
“Yup,” said Joe. “So we find the other vehicle first.” He lifted a little higher to have a clearer view of the other vehicles in the nearby parking lot, none being suitable. “We’re going to have to go further towards the town.”
“Let’s get on with it then,” said Swanson.
Joe looked at Sam, the person whose job it was to take the skiff back across, and pickup others then bring them back to the safer side of the river.
The younger man nodded. “I got this. Don’t worry.”
“I know. We shouldn’t be longer than an hour.”
“We’ll all be here.”
Joe crept forward, out from the undergrowth and on to the grass, keeping low and with the two others, moving as fast as he could until he got to the pickup, pulling the door open to make sure everything was as he left it. Seeing it was, they jogged on, keeping to the edge of the country lane, but not too close to the shadows in case there was something there.
They kept going, soon arriving at a larger two-lane road where a pickup was abandoned but Joe could immediately see it was too new. He pulled the door open just in case there were any keys in the ignition but there wasn’t.
“Over there,” whispered Lauren pointing towards the shape of a large house just visible through the trees.
“We wanted to check out those places, but never got the chance. Follow me.”
Joe ran across a well cut lawn, the others close behind, towards a three-story home which due to its white planks was still fairly visible within the dim blue light left in the western sky. An SUV and pickup were parked in front of a double garage, the latter with its door open.
Swanson jogged to it, peering inside then pulled back out, holding a thumbs up. Joe immediately did the mental arithmetic of how many people they could get inside. If they couldn’t find one large vehicle to take everyone, then three or four would suffice to get them away from the area until they could find something else.
Lauren tried the door on the SUV but it was securely locked. With Joe she looked at the impressive house in front of them. It was obvious what she was thinking and he nodded, then looked back at Swanson. “Stay here,” he whispered. The older man raised his thumb again and the other two ran to the side of the house, not bothering with the entrance, expecting it to be locked.
As they jogged down a narrow stone path, Joe slid his fingers across the frames of the ground floor windows looking for any that were open, but none were and they soon got to the back of the house…
The huge area at the rear of the property was awash with small structures. Some obviously tents, others stalls, and between them all, just visible in the darkness were overturned chairs, trash cans and tables. The remains of a garden party.
Lauren began to move, but Joe held her back, trying to see within the gloom of any sign of movement. On being satisfied there wasn’t any, he led her along the wall, to a large patio door which he slid open…
A few weeks earlier he would have heaved from the smell that washed over him as he entered the sunroom at the back of the house, instead he merely noted the stink as a sign that the house contained the dead. Not those that still walked, but those that were rotting. The lifeform not able to reanimate them anymore.
