Hellspawn (Book 1) (27 page)

Paige was mixing ingredients in the pan for breakfast and Gloria was watching out of the windows. The night had been uneventful. The murderers had not made an appearance and were probably planning their next attack. None of them truly believed the death of HP would scare them off, they would just be more cautious in the future. Once the concrete blocks had been removed from the dividing wall in the attic, with Gloria covering in case someone laid in wait behind it, Braiden went to the end house and started to call the dead in. It would provide a safer environment for Kurt to reach the van roof and cut the access hole in the steel top for them to use.

“Hello, breakfast is served, come and get it!” Braiden shouted, waving his arms around to draw more attention to himself. “Fresh meat, get it while its hot!”

The dead made their way from whatever they had been doing and gathered at his feet like a flock of worshippers at the Altar of Flesh. Their adoration didn’t extend to a benevolent being in the sky, but to the juicy organs, muscles, and blood they coveted beyond all things. It was another good behavioural observation, the fact that they could literally herd these beings where they wished and they would follow unerringly.

**********

The sun was shining and when they opened the window that looked out upon the van’s roof, they could see the moisture evaporating from the absorbed heat.

“If we give it another half hour the roof will be dry and a lot safer,” Kurt told John, who agreed. They gathered the bug out bags, suitcases, and other supplies they would carry and stacked them in readiness for loading. The angle grinder was set up and plugged in, and with the sun being as bright as it was, they were unlikely to get a better day for solar power with which to cut the roof open.

“Looks like Braiden’s trick is working,” John pointed. It was true. The dead were shuffling or crawling down the alleyway towards the sound of the clarion call.

“At least it means we can clear the way when we need to leave. I don’t want to know what the villages will hold for us, but we will cross that bridge when we come to it,” Kurt said.

“I pray the Army are still on Thorney, it will give us so much more protection if they have civilian refugee centres set up,” John told his son.

“I hope so too,” Kurt agreed, watching the evaporation of the water into misty up draughts.

**********

“Paige, would you like to take a shower?” Sam asked, as the newest member of the group cleaned away the dishes.

“You would like that wouldn’t you?” she asked him with a mischievous grin and winked at Sarah.

“No! I was just… I thought… erm,” he blustered, going red in the face, while Paige laughed.

“I’m sorry sweetie. I was just messing with you. I would love a shower, but I thought the water was off?” Paige said, cuddling the blushing youngster.

“It is. We are using the baths for water storage,” Sam quickly explained what they had rigged up and set a pan of water to heat on the fire, eager to make their new friend welcome.

“He’s a smashing kid,” Paige whispered to Sarah. “I can’t believe what you have achieved here, some of the comforts you have managed to secure.”

“Yeah, he is,” Sarah answered looking lovingly at her gangly son. He was all skinny arms and legs, no finesse or coordination, just like a newborn gazelle as it flops around. What a thing to have to grow up in, she thought to herself, mourning the lost innocence of his youth. “We have some good heads in our camp. I really think we can make a go of this if we find somewhere safe.”

“I’m going to continue to roam around a bit, checking the other houses for now, holler if you need me,” Gloria informed them as she climbed the ladder after her brief check in with Sarah and Paige. It seemed her old creaking bones had recovered and she was feeling younger by the day. The joys of an active, terror fraught existence were making them all fitter and stronger.

“Will do,” Sarah called after her.

John and Kurt returned and dried the dishes before putting them away in their ‘new kitchen’ they called it, a single chest of drawers containing cutlery, pots, pans and assorted cooking equipment. The clothes had been dumped at the bottom of the wardrobe to make space.

“The water is ready!” exclaimed Sam. He poured the final pan into the bucket before climbing into the attic, little muscles straining as they carried the fifty pounds of warm, steamy water.

“This is going to be heaven,” Paige said dreamily as she took the offered blue towel from Sarah and followed Sam.

“I am going to miss showers when we have to leave,” Sarah said sullenly, the road would be hard and unforgiving. Survival would come before creature comforts and luxury, the extent of their ability to wash was a dozen packets of wet wipes they had found in a cupboard. The Ritz it most certainly was not.

“It may not come to that. I think Braiden may have saved us all by killing that guy. They think they know what we are capable of now.” Kurt tried to reassure her but the niggling doubt remained. That type of person thrived on pain and would see retribution as absolutely necessary. The only thing that would stop it entirely would be if they launched their own attack and killed them all, but for now that was out of the question.

Honey watched them from the bed. She had made it through the night and if there had been any internal bleeding, she probably wouldn’t have. She was in a deal of pain, but after eating her meat, she had been alert and watchful. She was chuffing every now and again, wagging her tail when people stroked her, careful to avoid her injured side.

“You are such a good girl, aren’t you?” John scratched behind her ears. His complaint that she was a burden was completely wrong and he was happy to admit he had been a moaning old fool. The dog was unaware of the insult that had been levelled at her, she just enjoyed the attention.

**********

Gloria was alone with her thoughts while watching from a window, observing the exodus of cadavers as they made their way to Braiden. The fact that they had let one of the men go was playing on her conscience. At first it had seemed the Christian thing to do but after mulling on it, she wasn’t so sure.

“What would Jesus do?” she muttered to herself. It was a good question for normal times with morality and civil order, but did it really apply when the spawn of Hell roamed the planet?

“Where are you? What should we do? Please give us a sign,” she beseeched the unknowable and was not surprised to receive no visitation or epiphany in the upper bedroom with its awful, green painted walls.

“Thanks for nothing,” she said with sadness in her heart. Turning to continue her patrol, she heard a clunk and spun on her heels, just in time to see the ornament of a child rock on its side before lying still. It was likely just vibrations from all the work that they had been doing, but she could have sworn it was perfectly upright when she entered. Looking around the room, nothing else seemed out of place.

“Are you trying to tell me something?” she asked no one and laughed at her own silliness.

“Gloria, you are getting old and addled in the brain! Get on with looking after your new family,” she told herself. The ornament rocked again, settling onto the porcelain front face down, which brought memories of HP back. Was this a sign? Was it a way of saying that HE approved?

“The Bible does teach wrath and vengeance… maybe this is a battle between Good and Evil?” she asked herself, going in circles with moral conundrums.

“Don’t be so bloody daft, woman!” Gloria walked out of the room shaking her head.

**********

“Careful,” John told Kurt. It was pointless advice; the last thing he would do was fall from here. The van was a hi-top version that allowed more headroom and space inside and stood nearly nine feet from the ground. It would be a mortal mistake if he was to go over the edge.

“Pass me the grinder. I will cut it as quickly as possible and then we will head back inside while Braiden draws those that come to investigate back round the other side of the house,” Kurt explained and took the proffered tool from his dad.

Pulling the goggles down to protect his eyes, he picked a section of panel that was without a metal support trim, and started the abrasive wheel with an ear splitting whine. It was so loud in the silent morning that he considered turning it off, but the job needed to be done, so he put the blade to the metal. Sparks flew and the opening was formed. The two and a half foot section he had cut dropped into the rear of the vehicle, pushing smoke out in a great puff. Kurt checked to see that none of the hot embers lay inside the vehicle and risked causing it to burn out before they could use it to escape. It appeared that they were ok; moving all of the contents out of the van when the apocalypse broke left nothing much to catch fire.

“Here, pass it to me.” John took the grinder as Kurt climbed back in through the window. The first inquisitive zombies were returning to see what was causing the din.

**********

In the attic, pulling out the slingshot, Sam asked Braiden, “Mind if I practice?”

“Course not, fire away,” he answered and started to do an Indian rain dance, whooping and dancing on his toes in a circle causing them both to laugh.

Sam pulled the bearings out and laid them on a small table to his side. The weight was causing his pocket to tear and he would end up leaving a trail like Hansel and Gretel, except his trail would be metal balls instead of breadcrumbs. Thinking about it, they could be on to something. In films and cartoons, a floor covered in balls or marbles always ends in hilarious slapstick comedy. Real life was not quite so funny and it was unlikely the zombies would pinwheel their arms and pull funny faces before hitting the ground.

The first zombie fell, brain mashed by the bearing passing through, then another and another. Men, women, and children were targeted and Sam averaged three kills out of five shots, which was amazing considering the curvature of the skull and possibility of a deflection. Moaning and movement behind caught their attention and they both went to investigate. It was the teenage need to revel in all things gross and they were not disappointed. HP was flailing in his chair, his body and upper legs were in perfect working order. His skull had been stripped bare and was just a red mess, his jaw had been chewed off and only the protection of the thick skull bone stopped them eating the soft grey material inside. His feet were gone, as were most of the lower portion of his legs, only the well chewed tibia and fibula stuck forth from the remaining flesh. He looked like a red skulled pirate with peg legs, but infinitely more dangerous. Any parrot perched on the shoulder would be eaten in a scattering of multi coloured feathers, no crackers for this Polly.

“Can I have that?” Braiden gestured towards the slingshot.

“Sure,” Sam replied and passed it to him along with a heavy steel ball. “Shall we just leave him there? He is an asshole.” Sam only swore in front of his brother, and even then, only minor swears.

Braiden considered it. Sam had a point, but it would be a cruel twist of fate if zombie HP were to get free and take his revenge somehow. No, he had to die the true death, and after Braiden explained his fears, Sam agreed. It was a stationary target; Braiden drew the rubber back, aimed, and let it go. The bearing hit the hallway floor and ricocheted back at them, missing their own heads by inches, and shattering a roof tile.

“Oh shit!” Braiden yelped and jumped back laughing. “Maybe you should do it.”

Sam took the slingshot and made the shot, not missing from this range. The crimson skull hit the ground hard as the back of the head imploded, causing the zombie’s struggles to cease. A growing pool of dark, moss coloured blood was encircling the head. The increased activity had brought the culprits back from their roaming.

“We best get back to keeping them occupied,” Braiden said. Leaving the hatch he started to sing an awful rendition of the chorus of Whitney Houston’s ‘I will always love you.’

“AND IIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEIIIIIIIIII WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU!” he screeched, doing an excellent impression of nails running down a chalkboard. The zombies were unfazed and their renewed efforts to reach the pair pleased him.

“I’ve got a few fans here I think, pity they aren’t paying,” Braiden stated and they both chuckled.

“Boys, we are done for now. Come and get warm for a bit,” Gloria called through the hole to them and they happily scurried off to rest in front of the glowing fire.

The afternoon wore on and they loaded the vehicle without incident. The rotting corpses had mostly remained at the hole in the roof, desperate to catch a glimpse of the new star.

“I am worried about the lack of protection in the van and on the top. We aren’t all as light on our feet as you son,” John said to Kurt. It was true, the small distance between the window and the roof was tricky.

“Ok, let’s not waste time then. I can thread the small bore iron tube we have and make a small handrail that we can drill straight into the main body of the van roof. There are some self-tapping screws in my box that I use to fix pipes to metal on site, they will do the trick. It’s only got to hold while we climb on and off. As for protecting the glass, we can just drill through the door structure and bolt these through the pipe and metalwork. They will act like bars on a cell. If we get bogged down, they won’t save us though, they will just buy us time,” Kurt detailed his idea and drew a quick sketch of what it would look like. It wouldn’t be a tank by any stretch, but it would be better than driving along in a car, the windows would be far too vulnerable. Kurt had a strange vision of the survivors as lobsters in an aquarium and the zombies looking in, pointing and selecting their chosen meal for the evening.