Hellspawn (Book 1) (24 page)

“I will help Sam start putting some kits together. We will concentrate on the rucksacks for absolute essentials and use the suitcases for extras that won’t mean life or death if we lose them,” Sarah said.

“Braiden would you mind wrapping up warm and watching the house for us? I just don’t trust them and want to be secure before tonight,” Kurt asked and Braiden agreed, heading off to find a warmer jumper.

Honey had joined them and seemed a lot better. Her limp was still causing her pain and she stunk to high heaven, but it would require a lot more water to clean her than it did them. They had planned to wait until they had gathered some rain water in one of the bathtubs once it ran dry of drinking water, and using that for the purpose. One was getting close to the bottom and the hole had been formed, ready for the rainwater pipe to be cut and redirected. Following Honey was Hope, and her appearance was astonishing. Up until now she had remained in the reading chair, but she had not wanted to be parted from the dog.

“Good girl, pretty girl,” she whispered, reaching down and stroking the tangled fur.

Honey looked at them all, licked Hope’s hand, sneezed once, and then returned to the warmth of the fire, closely pursued by the previously immobile lady. It was quite surreal and they didn’t know what to say for a few seconds.

“Let’s get it done,” said Kurt and they all moved off to begin their work.

“Braiden, thanks for keeping an eye out,” John said, collecting tools and materials for the reinforcement work. Braiden nodded, pulling the thick jumper down over his head and climbing the ladder to mount his vigil.

“I shall hover around, keeping an eye on you all,” Gloria informed them, hefting the gun onto her shoulder.

“My Guardian Angel.” John smiled at her, she winked back at him.

“Sweetheart, there is still a lot of tinned food in the other houses that we found, would you take as much as you can and bring it back? Try and get a balance of foods, meats, fruits and vegetables,” John asked Sarah as he started to ascend the ladder, closely followed by Kurt.

“No problem,” she replied.

“I’ll follow Braiden to the shower house and get it from there Mum,” Sam offered.

“Thanks, I’ll be right behind you. I want to get some bags to sort it all into different food types,” Sarah said, digging through a pile of things they had brought up with them, certain there were some heavy duty canvas bags in there somewhere.

“Honey, you keep a close eye on Hope for us, ok?” Gloria scratched the dog under the chin. Honey closed her eyes and sighed with animal contentment.

“We will be close by, don’t worry,” Sarah added, rubbing Hope on the back expecting no response and receiving none.

They all had a purpose, the homes representing an ant colony, or like beavers working away industriously for the protection of their loved ones. John and Kurt were blocking access at each stairwell. The missing steps could still be overcome by normal people but blocking the top, in the same way they had done their own house, would stop easy access. They then took some more floor lamps and mounted glasses precariously on top. Any attempt to break through the floor would result in the glass falling and shattering, thus alerting them to the danger. Gloria was alternating between Kurt and John, and Sarah and Sam, peering through the windows and watching for movement other than the mindless staggering of the leaking husks outside. Braiden was staring at the mirror, watchful for any opening of the door or shadows in the windows.

At the house on the end of the terrace, the sounds of moaning from around the killing table were gradually silenced and the ropes tied to the rafters whipped around a little before pulling taut. All this went unseen by the family as they remained fixated on their personal tasks.

Hope sat in the reading chair, alternately stroking the dog and then sitting back and watching the flames as they lapped at the burning logs, lost in corridors of her own mind. The creak of the ladder and the shadowy figure that appeared in the doorway didn’t register with her, she remained oblivious. The overpowering stench of body odour that wafted through on a current of air was insufficient to rouse her, but Honey had woken and growled deeply in her throat.

“Well hello there,” came a gruff voice that was choked full of inhuman desires and needs.

**********

Braiden was so fixated on the house; he failed to heed the approach of cautious footsteps from the attic access. The man had seen Braiden the second he set foot inside the attic of the killing table house. He was backlit by the daylight. It looked as if he was at Heaven’s door, waiting to welcome a deceased loved one at the proverbial ‘light at the end of the tunnel’. The man was no loved one, not even close. It was only the creak of a loose joist that made Braiden turn and look, but it was too late. The heavy hand closed on his mouth and a thick, strong arm encircled his throat, cutting off the airway. The man lifted Braiden and his feet kicked in the air, struggling to find a surface to rest upon to lessen the pressure on his neck. Stars started to blaze in his vision from the deprivation of oxygen to his brain. In his last seconds, Braiden was acutely aware of the rank armpit stink and the filthy hands that his tongue was being forced to taste as he was strangled.

**********

“So what’s your name then?” asked the man as he entered the room cautiously, keeping a close eye on the dog. “Where are your friends? They aren’t here with you. Maybe you lied when you said there were eight.”

Hope just sat there, happy in her ignorance of the stinking, filthy intruder. He hadn’t washed for a week before the outbreak and the subsequent zombie slaying was still evident on his clothes. Dried, brown, crusty patches were now overlaid by the fresher putrescence of those destroyed around the killing table. Noxious smells were so normal to the man that he didn’t even notice the pervading stench he gave off as he moved, each draft of air mixing and spreading the concoctions on his clothing.

“We are going to have a great time tonight. Well, I am. You, not so much.” He smiled and Honey stood, her hackles rising and teeth bared. Her haunches were vibrating, muscles bunched and ready to attack him. The man had an iron bar in his left hand and a knife in his belt, both were stained and dripping with mucus and clotted, green blood.

“Come on then puppy dog. Let’s see how you feel after some of this,” the man menaced as he swished the bar in warning. It had the reverse effect, Honey leaped and bit down on the arm holding the weapon. The pain caused him to yell and drop it. Her sharp canine teeth were unable to penetrate the thick, waterproof coat that he was wearing, but the bruising would be severe by the morning. Roaring in agony, he swung his arm using the weight of the dog to his advantage, slamming the Labrador into the wall, where she yelped in pain and fell to the floor. Her side was damaged and added to her previous injuries. She was trying to limp away, walking sideways to minimise the pain.

“You fucking mutt, I’m going to stick this in your fucking neck!” He pulled the knife free and advanced on the dog that had now fallen to the floor and whimpered. The energy in her weakened state was all used up. The man pinned her down and swung the knife in a downwards arc, aiming to hit the floor underneath the dog to make sure it was finished. A blow to his side caused him to stagger, the knife embedded only inches from Honey’s face. She could only look at the partial reflection of herself in the impaled blade.

“Don’t you touch her, don’t you touch my baby!” Hope screamed and attempted to swing the fireplace poker again, the piercing shrieks like a banshee as she attacked him.

“Oh now we are getting somewhere,” the man laughed and tried to grab her wrists to take the metal poker, but the crazed woman’s strength was incredible. He wrestled it free. Her nails raked his face and tore deep gashes in his skin, forcing him to try and stab at her with his new weapon, but he couldn’t get the momentum behind it and it missed.

“You bitch, you’re dead!” He tried to maintain his bravado but she was relentless in her ferocity. When she wasn’t scratching and punching, she tried to bite his face. Only quick reactions prevented her clean, white teeth from fastening onto his beaked, pocked nose. The potential rapist swung an arm back and punched her full in the face, yet it had no effect. Hope’s head snapped back with the power of the blow, but there was no pain when she met his gaze once more, only a new level of hatred.

“Leave my baby alone, don’t you hurt her, I won’t let you!” She screamed even louder, small fists flailing and connecting with his face and arms that he tried to defend himself with. The kicks and punches he threw back made no difference and only served to drive her even more berserk. Eventually he fell to the floor under the assault, curling into a foetal position. Hope’s feet kicked again and again at ribs and spine and he was screaming, terrified at this small blonde woman who was slowly beating him to death in the upstairs hallway.

**********

Darkness was taking Braiden away; even the first shrill screams seemed to be coming from miles away. He felt like he was sinking into the ocean, but the water was warm and comforting.

“Put him down you bastard or I will blow you in half!” yelled Gloria, who had hurried up the steps at the first shriek and found Braiden, slumped in the powerful arms of this long haired stranger.

“You will kill us both with that shotgun you silly old cunt,” sneered the man, but he lowered Braiden, determined to have a living human shield between himself and the gun, not a dead body.

“You really are as dumb as you look aren’t you?” Gloria sneered back, hiding her terror, refusing to give the man any indication she wasn’t in total control. It was only her will that prevented the gun from waving wildly in the air; instead it was still and deadly. “At this range the shot won’t spread, it will just blow a clean hole through you about two inches wide.”

The sneer faltered a little and he seemed to be thinking of his options. “The gun will blow you clean off your feet. Put it down before you hurt yourself and I won’t hurt you,” he said, trying to reassert his dominance. Gloria simply laughed in his face, grateful when the rest of the family arrived. Kurt had ducked out of sight, heading off to help Hope. They all had weapons ready. Sam moved to the side, slingshot drawn but not aimed directly at the two. The way he was shaking, he was just as likely to hit his brother.

“I shoot every weekend, you fucking imbecile. I could blast your ears off one by one if I wished.” Gloria winced inwardly at the use of profanity, but she needed to seem capable and tough, a match for the huge hulk in front of her. He looked backwards, at the hole in the wall where they had mounted the mirror, and considered the drop.

“Oh please, go ahead. I will enjoy seeing you with two broken legs and being eaten, one bite at a time,” she smiled what she hoped was a suitably evil grin. It did the trick. The man slumped his shoulders and dropped Braiden, who fell to the floor clutching his throat and coughing.

“So, what now?” the intruder asked, glaring at them.

“Get on the floor, face down,” Gloria instructed and he looked as if he was going to make a play for the gun. The large black bores of the shotgun’s barrels focused his mind and he reconsidered, and lowered himself down on the boarded floor. Gloria approached and he glared at her with a look of pure malice, she had no doubt what he would like to do to her. The heavy wooden butt of the shotgun cracked against his forehead. His head dropped like a stone, unconscious.

“Are you ok?” Sarah asked anxiously as they all rushed to Braiden. John had gone to join Kurt now that this brute was subdued.

He massaged his bruised neck and tried to talk. “I… I…” was all he could manage, it came out as a croak.

“No, don’t speak sweetheart, save your strength,” Sarah said and cradled him in her arms.

Gloria and Sam took the man’s tattooed arms and tied them at the wrists with some duct tape that was on the worktop. They then did the same to his legs, then finally lifted them and tied the feet to the wrists, effectively hogtying the assailant. It was for their safety, and only when he was suitably trussed, did they feel comfortable.

**********

             
Kurt climbed down the ladder and found Hope still beating the prone figure on the floor. The intruder had been reduced to mewling whispers. Her energy was expended and her blows were without the strength of minutes ago, but the damage was already done.

              “I’m sorry. He was hurting her. He shouldn’t have hurt my baby,” Hope said to Kurt, looking at him and actually seeing him for the first time.

              “No he shouldn’t. Are you ok?” Kurt asked, seeing the blood trickling from her nose and the swelling eye. He was sure that she would retreat internally once more, but to his amazement, she continued the conversation.

“Yes, I’m fine, but Honey is hurt. HE HURT HER!” she yelled and stomped on the man again, causing yet another cry of pain.

              Kurt was convinced the invader posed no threat at that moment, but he took off the man’s shoes and threaded the laces out before tying the scumbag’s hands behind his back. The movement of the man’s injured joints caused him to shriek and try to pull away, but he had no fight left in him and Kurt bound him quickly.

              Kurt found Hope lifting Honey onto their bed, but seeing the poor animal and her new injuries, he didn’t complain. Hope stroked the matted yellow fur and when she touched certain areas of the dog’s side, Honey whined with pain.

              “She bit him when he tried to hurt me, then he threw her into that wall,” Hope said, crying, and pointing at a patch of wall that now had dirty streaks on it. “You will be ok baby. We will make you better, I promise,” she cooed at the heroic dog.

              Kurt prayed that there was no internal damage, or there would be nothing they could do. It was in fate’s hands now. He picked up and rubbed the uninjured paw, Honey looked at him from her position and the brown soulful eyes were full of canine love.

              “Rest easy girl, we will take care of you now,” Kurt told the brave animal while Hope wiped her tears with a sleeve. “I’m Kurt, pleased to finally meet you,” he said.

              “I’m… Paige. Thank you for looking after me while I was… away,” she blushed.

              “You are very welcome. Keep an eye on our hero while I deal with this sleazeball,” Kurt hardened, an example needed to be made.