Hellspawn (Book 1) (28 page)

They all joined in, fetching, cutting, threading or filing the pipes and joining them together. Sam was in charge of drilling the holes at either end of the glass reinforcing bars, and Gloria carried on with her role as soldier on guard.

“We will need another good day of sun if we are to drill through the doors Dad. The power is failing and I’ve only managed to get through half of the pipes you gave me,” Sam explained, dusting the iron filings from his sleeves. “I want a shower now too, is that ok?”

“I think we could all do with one, what do you think?” Sarah asked and no one complained. Sam had taken on the role of water heater and was happy to be bringing even a small measure of happiness to his family.

Sarah stood in the shower cubicle; the gentle flow of warm water caressed her skin and ran into the waiting drain. The grainy feeling and dirt was washing away with each moment, and she started to feel human again. Movement at the door caused her to jump, but it was only Kurt, who stripped off his clothing.

“I have told Sam to keep the water coming,” he said, climbing in to join her.

“What do you want mister? Hmm?” she asked as he squeezed shampoo into his hands and rubbed it into her hair, lathering and cleaning it deeply while massaging the scalp.

“Mmmmmm, don’t stop,” she purred. “You could do that all day and I wouldn’t get tired of it.”

The water slowed to a drip and Sam called down, “Be right back, hold on.”

Smiling at each other they embraced. Although both were aroused, this was just about taking a moment for themselves, the opportunity to hold each other and de-stress from their ongoing plight. Shampoo was pushing into Kurt’s ear and the sound of Sam’s voice was muffled when he returned and filled the bucket. The water cascaded once more, and against their cold skin it stung a bit, but it was glorious. Once Sarah was clean, she helped Kurt to wash. It was the most natural thing in the world, couples had been doing it forever and these small pleasures would aid in keeping them sane.

“Thanks Sam, cap it!” shouted Kurt, and the water stopped immediately. They used a rubber beaker to plug the drilled holes when people were finished, instead of letting it go to waste, it would sit waiting for the next person.

They towelled each other dry, faster than usual because the air was frigid and their breath plumed from their open mouths.

“I’m sorry I didn’t kill that guy. I feel so weak,” Kurt told her and lowered his gaze. She held his face and lifted it, meeting his eyes.

“We are not like them and we never will be. Does it make us weak that we love? Possibly, but next time we will have to end them. It won’t be murder, it is self-defence. I am ready to do it. Yesterday I wasn’t, but Braiden was nearly killed and we were lucky. Second chances are few and far between.” She kissed him and their tongues met, pushing and tasting at each other.

“I want you,” Kurt husked as she broke the embrace.

“Tonight, ok? We will have to be quiet. I need you too.” Sarah kissed him again, and then got dressed.

They passed John as he made his way across the attics and he grinned at his son and daughter in law. He had felt like that too once, and who was to say he wouldn’t again. Gloria flashed in his mind and the familiar glow of desire bloomed.

John had trusted Gloria with some of the details of the Lavant attack. He gave no specifics except that Paige may have lost her baby, which explained the random comments she had uttered. Gloria’s heart ached with pity and sorrow for the poor girl, who was slaving over the fire, whistling and cooking their evening meal. Unsure of how to approach, she decided to just try and be there for the young lady.

“Sweetheart? If you ever need to talk about anything, please don’t hesitate to ask, ok?” Gloria offered.

“Ok, thanks,” Paige replied merrily. It was clear it would be some time before she could even start to accept what had happened. Ultimately, it would either come out or destroy her, pain like that could not be held back forever.

Gloria stroked the back of her hair down and left her cooking, whistling the tune to ‘Happy’ by Pharrell. She felt knots of apprehension at the thought that this lovely person would be unable to process her tremendous loss, and that they would lose her again, permanently.

The day started with radiant sun, but the horizon was blanketed with dark grey clouds and the wind was slowly carrying them closer. They took the chance and finished the repairs to the vehicle just in time, as Braiden’s previous rain dance was answered with a vengeance.

Back in the warm bedroom, the family watched as the heavens opened. Rain hammered down onto the roof and the windows didn’t escape. The fierce wind drove water against the glass like a machine gun, rat-a-tat echoing throughout the upper floor. The atmosphere was affected by it and they found it difficult to get motivated. Even the zombies outside seemed slower and more miserable than usual, one would occasionally slip over on the wet ground, but even this was not enough to generate much laughter from the family.

“Kurt, what the hell are we doing? Let’s get that pipe in and start filling the empty tubs. It’s not fresh water, but if we boil it, there is no reason we can’t drink it,” John announced, standing with purpose. Kurt wasn’t motivated, they grey day and constant drumming of the water was sapping his spirit.

“Ok, let’s do it,” he said then stood, resembling Sam when he was asked to do chores, shoulders slumped and totally without interest. Sarah smiled at the sight and now knew where her son had inherited it.

“Tell me what you need,” John said, looking at the tools and pipe they had laid on the bathroom floor.

“Hacksaw first, that one.” Kurt pointed and his dad passed it over. The hole in the wall provided enough room for him to reach through to cut the rainwater downpipe. It came apart with a wild spray and ran down his arms, soaking his jumper. “Bloody hell!” he threw the hacksaw across the room, pulling his jumper off.

“Calm down, it’s only water. What’s the matter?” John took the item of clothing and hung it up to start drying.

“I keep thinking if we had killed that murdering bastard we would only have two to contend with. I let him go after what he had done! Fucking pathetic.” Kurt shook his head in disgust at his inaction.

“I would be worried if you could kill without thought. Braiden worries me, the way he has shown no remorse for the other night,” John said.

“We have been through this Dad. Braiden has been beaten and abused for his whole life; he has lived with that sort of person. If we can trust anyone’s judgement on what they are capable of, it is his,” Kurt repeated for the last time. “We need to be prepared to act like that. He has risked his life to save us all and has only shown aggression to those who did harm to others. Think about it, would you want that monster coming back?”

“No, no I wouldn’t.” John imagined the damage HP could have caused if left unchecked.

“Pass me the saw, let’s get this finished,” Kurt asked. He took the small section of pipe he had put to one side, cutting it to the right length and attaching it with glue, which could seal in wet conditions. A waterfall of rainwater poured from the end and hit the bath, splashing in all directions. It was a wonderful sight. It would take little time to refill the deep container, so rather than let it run out of the overflow pipe; they decided to top up the other bath that had been used up.

“Could someone grab the buckets, please?” John shouted through the attic hatch and the sounds of movement came back.

“Here you go Grandad.” Sam had fetched them. Braiden was right behind him. The boys had become inseparable through this.

One by one, the buckets were filled and then transported to the next house before being poured in the bath. In less than thirty minutes, they had two full baths and the water still poured in. The overflow pipe was not sufficient to take the excess and water started to pour over the sides, covering their feet.

“Shall we do something?” Sam worried.

“It’s not worth it mate. I’ve already glued the pipe and we don’t have a spare if it breaks. Look, it’s just going through the floor in the corner.” Kurt pointed and the water was indeed finding its own way down, running down a duct. “The house will start to smell a bit funky with mould, but compared to the smell of those things, it will be like perfume.” Kurt was satisfied and they left the water to continue flooding.

**********

Days passed, the radio revealed nothing new to boost their morale. The world was gone and only small pockets of resistance held out against the zombie horde. The Government was still silent, and there had been no contact with the Command of the Armed Forces for many days. Occasionally they would hear the dull boom of a Howitzer firing a shell from Thorney Barracks, which always brought a smile to their face. Their reasoning was that someone somewhere was calling for the artillery support, so logically there were still some fighting men left. If only they could reach them.

Their guard never dropped, and at least one, often two of them, would be roaming the rooms of the extended house looking for signs of the villains. They cooked, ate, drank, slept, talked and existed. They didn’t class what they were doing as living, as there was so little to do and after several days, they were starting to go stir crazy. Small arguments started and further frayed their nerves. Living under the same roof, in the same five rooms was taking a toll.

The weather was getting colder and the wood pile was dwindling. It would last at least another six weeks, but then they would be in December and the temperatures would be in the negative degrees centigrade. They could reclaim the timber from the roof structures of the other homes, but at the rate they were burning it, this would not see them through until the spring. The food would be running out around the same time, they would need to raid the area to replenish their stocks. Water was the one commodity they had in abundance, but slowly starving and freezing to death was not something they relished doing. The conversations moved to the option of leaving while they still had the milder autumn weather and plenty of strength. One look outside the window was enough to give them pause, it was a sound idea, but required a solid plan to work or they would be dead within a mile.

“I have been looking at some of the stuff you have laying around and thinking about the Chinook that flew over. I may have an idea,” John said to Kurt and the group looked on, eager for anything to break the monotony of their day.

“Ok, go on.” Kurt too, was intrigued.

“We mounted the mirror from the roof timbers and I was looking at how strong the beams might be. If we were to attach some steel ring clips along the length of the roof, and mount that long section of pipe,” John had walked into the store room and indicated a section that was twelve-foot-long and an inch in diameter. “We could possibly join another piece hanging downwards, perpendicular from it, and mount a blade to cut through the zombies.”

“I don’t follow Dad, we don’t have a blade for one thing, and how would it work?” The description was proving difficult to picture for Kurt.

“Ok,” John said rubbing scratching his head and thinking. “Ah! Imagine a pendulum from the old horror films.”

“Right.” Kurt was picturing it.

“The section in the roof supports the vertical pipe that hangs downwards with the blade attached, like a pendulum. We then swing the tube from the loft and it cuts back and forth, splitting zombies apart on the downward stroke.” John was making it clearer and Kurt started to understand. “Think of an upside down capital L, with the blade bolted at the top of the letter. When gravity takes hold, it will be in the upside down position and the steel blade will be at cutting height.”

“So you said helicopter, but it would work as if it was laid flat, the prop mounted in the attic and providing the pivot.” Kurt was getting excited.

“Yes exactly! If we could get enough momentum, it would be like walking into a meat grinder.” John was gathering tools and fittings to make a start.

“But wait, we still don’t have a blade, unless you plan on attaching a couple of kitchen knives,” Kurt said.

“Take this,” replied John, passing the rusted piece of metal he had found in the rear shed of the mystery house. “We will grind the edges to a blade when we have the sun for solar power, and then drill it and fix it to the bar.”

“Whoa, that’s got some weight to it.” Kurt had to admit, it would be good if they could get it attached.

“Exactly, now you are seeing the potential. The added weight of that will cause the downward arc to be devastating, hundreds of pounds of torque dicing through our rotting friends.” John was more animated than at any time in the last week or more.

“Ok let’s try it. We will struggle to grind it down today at all but we can attach the steel pipe work.” Kurt hefted the orange, flaking lump of steel under his arm and took the drill from his dad. Sarah and Gloria were on guard duty and it was like a game of snakes and ladders. They would climb a ladder, move along and then descend the next one, looking out of the windows, the only thing missing were the reptiles. Kurt had to admit Sarah’s legs were looking very good from all the steps. Daydreaming for a moment, his dad cuffed him playfully around the back of the head.

“I saw that, you pervert!” John laughed.

“What?” Kurt feigned ignorance, tried to look innocent, but he couldn’t help but laugh, it was little moments like this that would help them keep their sanity.

The clips were mounted on the roof timbers in a straight line. They then hung the long section of tube, complete with a bend and threaded end, ready for the bladed piece to be coupled to it. Kurt took the end and it spun freely, he saw that this would work brilliantly. They just needed a decent run of sun to power the bench grinder and drill. Kurt tried the tool but it spun sluggishly, and when they tried to file the edge of the steel, it just stopped dead.

“We will try tomorrow. It’s England; we are bound to get sunshine,” John said sarcastically and they left the equipment ready for tomorrow.

**********

True to form, the following day was overcast with a smattering of rain, nowhere near the deluge of the previous week. The grinder was still weak, but at the height of the day there was enough sun to power it with sufficient force to not stop it when pressure was applied.

“This is going to take all day,” Kurt said miserably, noting the slow abrasion and shaping of the metal as it was filed.

“Did you have any other plans?” John asked.

“I was going to take the dog for a walk but the weather is crap,” Kurt joked.

“Just call me when your arm gets tired and I will take over for a bit,” John offered.

What should have taken an hour took four. The clouds were growing darker, threatening more rain. The blade was finally complete, and the holes were drilled to mount it on the waiting tube. The combined weight was heavy but manageable, until they tried to lower it down and join it to the other end.

“We can’t quite get it from here, we need to be closer. Sam, are you there?” John called out.

“What’s up Grandad?” Sam shouted back through the hole.

“We need some weight up here, bring Braiden and your mum, Paige too,” he replied.

The others arrived and John had found a piece of ply board to use. He laid it down and pushed it out through the hole a couple of feet, motioning for them to come over, he explained his plan. “The pipe is too heavy to lean out and join together. I need you to stand on that end, while we step out and tighten it up. For the love of God, please do not move,” he emphasised. They pulled faces as if to say ‘do we look that stupid?’

The extra extended distance allowed them to thread the pipe. Using a wrench, Kurt tightened it into the bend. The pendulous blade was positioned from head height down to chest height, using the full length. It was a decision they had made due to the varying heights of the adult and child sized ghouls. Their initial pity for the plight of the young dead was fading day by day, survival required they appreciate that four-foot-tall angelic children could kill them just as easily as a six foot bearded adult. Climbing back into the safety of the attic, Kurt saw that the weight of the steel tube was borne by the closest bracket and it threatened to pull loose, the wood creaking and screws protesting.

“Hold that!” Kurt told them. They each took the strain of the weight while he fixed more supports in place.

“A real work of art,” John stated as they all admired it.

Kurt clamped mole grips to the pipe. This provided a handle with which to rotate the new killing machine.

“Can I have a go, please?” Sam asked.

“Ok, but be careful. Do not hold the grips; it will break your wrist.” Kurt demonstrated what to do, pushing the tool firmly each way, but not holding it at all.

The momentum began and the tube started to rock to and fro, but then abruptly stopped. John looked down to see that a woman had been struck, her head split and the blade embedded deeply within the skull. The shape of the blade was tapered and it worked as intended. The body slumped and dropped free, leaking brain matter onto the path, freeing the pendulum to begin again.

“It works!” John cheered. “Ok Sam, do it again!”

This time, Kurt and John gripped the round edge of the pipe and added their strength to get it started. Twice more an unfortunate zombie walked into the arc and stopped the blade, limbs and skull fragments flying. On the fourth attempt, they managed to get more force before any corpse could interrupt the flow.

“Good Sam, go! Keep it up,” Kurt encouraged. The pliers were only moving a matter of inches in each direction, but the tube outside was swinging with an air cutting swish. Sam was concentrating so much on the tool, his eyes had crossed and his tongue protruded through his lips. Kurt nearly laughed, but he knew how dangerous the task was, so he looked to Braiden instead.