Holiday of the Dead (7 page)

Bill screamed and pushed her away but as he did a chunk of his skin was left hanging from the mother’s mouth.

A spurt of blood came gushing from the wound. Bill clamped his hand around the gash instinctively trying to stem the flow. The blood was pouring out through his fingers cascading down his arm and slopping onto the floor.

Bill’s eyes widened in panic.

“You crazy bitch,” Bill spluttered.

The woman endeavoured to chew and swallow the flesh between her teeth but the knife lodged in her palate made that impossible. Instead the mouthful of minced flesh dropped onto the floor with a wet slap.

Her mouth empty she leant back in for another bite.

Bill grunted as he struggled to fend her off. One hand pressed against his neck, the other punching out. But as the warm blood pumped from his neck the room started to spin and Bill’s blows weakened.

A third bite found Bill’s flesh, then a forth.

Bill screamed, the flashes of pain hurling back the encroaching blackness. He tussled with the mother trying to prise her off, trying to get away from her gnashing teeth. Thick sheets of blood poured from his wounds. He struggled for breath. Faint and exhausted Bill slipped and tumbled to the floor. He landed with a splash in the pool of fresh blood, his vision fading.

As the black edges closed in he could see a pretty little girl framed by the summer sun outside.

She slammed the door shut blocking out the light.

Bill reached out a hand silently pleading for the girl and as he did the dead mother fell upon him snarling and biting and clawing.

The little girl looked up into the face of a young lady. Her hair was almost the same colour as hers and she wore a sparkly silver piercing in her lip.

THE END

CHERRY

By

Tony Wright

When the apocalypse came, Cherry Davis awoke from pleasant dreams of the holiday to come. A romantic getaway with Dave to Alicante was only a day away and her bags were all packed.

Excited, she sprang lightly out of bed and padded into the bathroom. Flicking on the light with the pull switch brought back remnant images of sunning herself on the beach, sipping long, cool drinks and holding hands with her man on moonlit walks through the surf. She could almost feel her skin glow with happiness as the usual morning ablutions washed the last shreds of sleep away.

At this time of the morning, there would normally be a long line of people waiting at the bus stop across the road, reading papers, discussing the previous night’s TV shows or nodding along to iPods, but today there was no-one.

A puzzled expression furrowed her brow as she saw thick trails of smoke pointing accusingly at the overcast sky in several places on the horizon.

Cherry pondered this for a moment. There had been scattered reports of rioting in several cities on the news over the previous few days. Sudden instances of violent crime had broken out. This had been explained, by the authorities, as unrest due to unpopular government cuts after the financial crisis that had gripped the world over the last couple of years. Had these incidents escalated into chaos overnight?

Cherry picked up her mobile phone and retrieved Dave’s number from the contacts list.

No tone, no ringing. The phone appeared to be dead.

Dropping the phone, Cherry hurriedly dried and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. Pulling on pink Converse and her leather bomber jacket, she opened the front door to her flat and stepped out into the cool air.

Cherry wrinkled her nose as a smell of burning stung her nostrils. There was also something sickly sweet that she didn’t recognise. The rioters must have really gone to town, she thought.

She decided, without a better plan, that she would first try to find Dave. He was a security guard at Mad Joe’s Carpets on the industrial estate. It wasn’t far and maybe he’d know what to do.

As Cherry stepped onto the pavement, she started as a black cat appeared in front of her. There was something clearly wrong with the animal. It was dragging a bloodied leg behind it.

‘Here, puss,’ Cherry said, holding out a hand. She hated to see any creature in distress.

The cat stared at her warily and mewed pitifully. As Cherry approached it, she could see that the injured leg had marks on it. Teeth marks! She was no expert, but she could swear that they were human!

Who would do such a thing? She wondered and whistled softly at the cat. As she approached it, it hissed loudly and scratched her outstretched hand.

The driver was clearly not in control. The car scraped along a garden wall, sparks flying into the air as brick hit metal. One tyre was deflated and the wheel rim gouged deep into the tarmac.

As the car flew past, Cherry saw that the driver, a young uniformed constable, was fighting with someone in the passenger seat.

Her mind showed her a last look at the terrified man as his attacker tore into his exposed throat with his bared teeth. The front windscreen splattered with blood as the car mounted the kerb and smashed squarely into a house. It stopped instantly as the bonnet folded in on itself. The occupants were thrown through the smashed windscreen straight into the house’s bay window.

‘What the fuck is going on?’ Cherry breathed, eyes wide and staggering backwards in dismay.

She turned and hurried along the road, not daring to look back.

The train came around the corner into her field of view. It was going too fast, she realised and instinctively jumped back from the platform’s edge.

A great whoosh of wind flowed through the station as the train, without slowing, passed at high speed.

Another grotesque tableau was played out before her as she pressed herself against the station wall. Flames and smoke billowed from several of the carriage windows and dark, burning shapes were beating frantically at them. Then she heard the screams. The desperate cries of many people trapped, dying and doomed. She could not imagine hearing anything so disturbing ever again.

The train creaked and lurched alarmingly as it rounded the bend out of sight and Cherry was left in stunned silence, alone once more.

Choking back a sob, she gathered herself together and left the station, making her way through South Gosforth and down the bank, towards the Haddricks Mill roundabouts. The eerie quiet was punctuated by distant shouts, explosions and screams.

Despite these disturbing sounds, she didn’t see another soul until she drew close to the Brandling Villa pub. Cherry saw a small group of men standing outside the pub. They watched her carefully as she drew near.

The men dragged Cherry into a garage behind the pub. They had clearly been busy. Boxes and tins had been stacked in one corner and a grimy mattress lay in the middle of the damp concrete floor.

Bobba, a bulky man with a shaved head and an almost visible aura of body odour, went first, informing his compadres in no uncertain terms that he was not one for sloppy seconds. Nobody argued with Bobba.

As darkness fell, Cherry was left alone, locked in the musty-smelling garage, with her torn clothes barely covering her shivering body. The hand that the cat scratched earlier throbbed awfully. She removed the now filthy handkerchief to reveal skin that was tinged green/black. She managed a pitiful whimper then passed out.

Bobba knew something was wrong the moment he felt her mouth envelop him. In the half light, her skin appeared dark and bruised and a sickly sweet smell caught in his nose. And her mouth was icy cold.

‘Oh, FU–’ he screamed as her teeth sunk into his engorged flesh. The teeth clamped hard and a guttural moan escaped Cherry’s throat. With a wrench, she ripped the now limp member free.

As Bobba wheeled away, agonised, Cherry sat on her haunches, like something feral and watched him, chewing hungrily.

‘Fuckin’ bitch!’ Bobba managed through gritted teeth as he writhed on the cold floor, holding his bloodied crotch with both hands.

Cherry rose up and clumsily moved toward him, blood oozing from her mouth and dribbling down her chin.

Dave Marchant sat in the security office of Mad Joe’s Carpets, watching the CCTV monitors. So far, power was still available, but he was sure it was only a matter of time before that went, leaving darkness in its wake.

He had discarded his clip on tie and his shirt collar was open as he slouched in the comfortable leather chair.

Since all Hell had broken loose, he had just sat in the relative security of his office, unsure what to do.

He had tried to contact his girlfriend, Cherry, but the phones were out. He had also considered leaving his post and going to find her, but, if he was honest with himself, he was shit scared, so had stayed put.

Self-preservation instincts had won over the concerns for his girlfriend. He would just wait and see what happened.

Wearily, he wiped a hand across his brow and allowed sleep to take him.

A banging on the main doors across the hall awoke Dave with a start from his slumber. Who the hell could that be? He wondered, blearily.

He glanced at the monitor that covered the main door. It was dark, but he could just make out a shape. Small, petite and female. Dark trousers. Black jacket, a shock of blonde hair.

The key, after a few fumbled attempts, slipped into the lock, turned and the door swung open. It was Cherry all right. She fell forward into his arms.