Hellspawn Odyssey (8 page)

“I don’t give a fuck if she is unhappy, she can leave anytime she wants!” Kurt shouted and banged on the ceiling. An answering stamp on the floor from above nearly set Kurt running up the stairs. Sarah stopped him, making him sit down to eat the steaming vegetables that Gloria had cooked.

“She has to go, I’m sorry, Peter,” Kurt continued, speaking through boiled broccoli. “I am sorry that I ever took you away from the safety of your home the other day.”

“I’m not, she was intolerable. We were nearly out of food and she wanted me to go and get some more while she stayed put,” Peter explained. If truth be told he was close to making a run for it anyway, no matter the outcome. Gloria handed him the dinner plate and he tucked in with relish, but the mood soured when the banging resumed from upstairs.

“Peter, get up here!” came Debbie’s yell and he put his plate down.

“You take her food, then come straight back down. If she makes any more noise I will throw her from the upstairs window,” Kurt ordered.

They listened as Peter crossed the floor above, timbers creaking and groaning. Voices started to be raised and they heard the plate smash as it was thrown against a wall. Kurt ground his teeth, wanting her gone. Only Sarah’s calming touch prevented him rushing upstairs and making good on his threat. The floor protested again and Peter came back down, bits of food on his clothing and face. Paige rushed over and started to clean him, picking the larger pieces off and giving them to Honey who was happy for the extra treats. Peter welled up and started sobbing, falling into the space on the sofa where he had been sitting.

“I tried, I really tried with her,” he said through the tears and Paige held him close.

“We know you did, of course you did,” she crooned.

The awkwardness of public emotion was gone, they all accepted the psychological fragility of each other and how this wouldn’t be the last time they broke down. One by one they gave Peter a hug or supportive pat on the shoulder.

“Sorry about that, what a pussy I am,” Peter said when he had finally calmed down.

“Not at all, mate, this world is fucked up. I’d be more worried if you didn’t cry,” Kurt commiserated.

“What is the plan for tomorrow?” John asked.

“We try and cover the last three miles, on foot if necessary, over the fields like you did,” Kurt laid it out. “The Winspit Stone Mine is close, that’s a shortcut that will save us half a mile.”

“Winspit Stone Mine?” Braiden asked.

“It’s where they mine the stone to repair the local churches and castles. It’s been there for hundreds of years,” Kurt explained.

“Won’t that be a bit dangerous?” Paige asked, but quickly dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. Everywhere was dangerous.

“We can vote on it, but I think the time we save will make up for it. Then we make a beeline straight between Chichester Road and the Motorway, steering clear of the homes if possible,” Kurt offered. “A show of hands for the mine?”

They looked at each other, no one had the faintest idea what was the best course of action so the shortest journey won the day, hands shot in the air.

“Ok, we go through the mine.” Kurt nodded.

“Shall we try the radio?” Gloria suggested.

“Good grief, I had nearly forgotten we had that,” John said incredulously, rummaging through the bags until he found it. “Here it is.” He wound the charging lever for a couple of minutes and re-tuned it to the previous channel as it had been knocked around in the bag. The familiar female voice came through, the signal still poor but it was comforting, like hearing from an old friend.

“To anyone that is still out there, keep holding on, keep fighting the good fight. Our power seems secure, we have had a couple of interruptions but we are still on the air. It can only mean that the Government, in however small a capacity, is still in their bunker and keeping the juice flowing. We have yet to make contact with them, I’m afraid. The concentration of the dead is diminishing. More leave the area every day which we can only assume is in search of new food sources.”
She paused and they could just imagine the presenter giving an involuntary shudder.

“I pray that wherever you are that you are safe and secure, winter is coming and all Met Office advice before the end hinted at a harsh one. The gulf streams were pulling a cold front from the Arctic that would ensure a lower temperature range than normal.”

“Well isn’t that bloody marvellous?” Sarah said, shaking her head. “As if we need another reason to suffer.”

“We shall be ok, as long as we make it to somewhere secure before it drops below zero,” Kurt answered and gave her leg a gentle rub.

“And if we don’t find somewhere?” Peter asked, meaning no disrespect. He wanted to have an idea of what lay ahead.

“We will,” Kurt stated, certain of their goal.

“We had a brief transmission from the 3
rd
Division of the British Army, they have formed a safe zone on the Porton Down facility and remnants of the Army and Air Force have been rendezvousing to defend the site and their research, which is still ongoing. They have asked that for the time being, survivors stay away as they are under sustained heavy assault from the surrounding cities and towns. Numbering in the thousands, the zombies have been relentless but have not yet breached the wall.”

“That’s what you get when you mess with the army!” Sam yelled with excitement, the images of battle and victory playing over in his mind.

“You can always count on our boys and girls in a fight,” John said with pride, “Though not to help people it seems.”

“They must have had their reasons, you could see they weren’t all happy about it,” Gloria added and John just shook his head, unable to comprehend the decision to send them away.

“I’m hungry!” came whining down the stairs, souring the mood instantly.

“You had your dinner, eat it off the floor,” Kurt replied and waited for the sarcastic reply.

“Prick,” Debbie muttered quietly from the stairway, but loud enough that Kurt would hear. She didn’t push the issue further, retreating into the bedroom and slamming the door like a petulant child.

“We have also been informed that the Daresford Institute is in close contact with Porton Down, the subterranean structure ensuring their safety for the time being. Virologists and biologists from the PD site have been working on isolating the source of the brain aberration from test subjects, with no success thus far. They are working closely with the DI who have almost decoded the pulse of energy and this, they hope, will give some clue as to the nature of the outbreak. All they will theorise is that it has possibly triggered some dormant region in the brains of the deceased; synapses have been observed firing despite no signs of life.  How this anomaly is then transmitted, they simply do not have an explanation as yet. We will bring you updates as soon as we receive them,”

Braiden tapped his head, wondering what part of his brain could cause rotting immortality.

“I am totally baffled, what the hell is a synapse?” John asked.

“They connect nerve cells together in the brain and can cause a chemical reaction,” Sam answered and they looked at him, dumbstruck. “Biology class,” he offered, blushing.

“You are such a clever boy,” Paige complimented him and his cheeks darkened further.

“Someone has a crush,” whispered Kurt to Sarah and she smiled.

“We need to discuss what happened earlier, who the hell is risking their life to kill us?” John posed to the group.

“The logical guess would be Archie, Phil, and Eddie, but we… took care of that problem,” Kurt responded, his mood darkening with thoughts of fire and murder, and more to come he feared.

“Debbie?” Braiden questioned.

“She didn’t have time to sneak off and move those cars, and the stone came from the other direction,” Gloria replied.

“So we are back to square one, maybe we just ran into another group of assholes?” Paige said and it was possibly true, though it would be terrible luck and they would need to be on their guard constantly.

“What we do know is that they moved around freely between the dead, got to our vehicles and then ensured we were trapped on that road. If we see anyone suspicious, we take no chances,” Kurt vowed.

“Do you mean kill them?” Peter looked worried, but he would do what was necessary if the situation called for it.

“If we have to, yes. I would like to find out more before we do that, if we can take them alive that would be good,” Kurt said, hoping that he would get the chance to question them personally. They had threatened the lives of his loved ones and they would pay in blood. He tried to reconcile the change in himself, the willingness to commit heinous acts and bloodshed. He had always tried to avoid conflict in life, both physical and emotional. Whenever he had been witness to an argument or physical altercation, his mouth would go dry and his stomach would cramp with anxiety. Weeks spent in the zombie apocalypse had caused a rapid metamorphosis and he was not sure he would like what he was becoming.

“Are we going to sleep upstairs?” Gloria asked, changing the subject and interrupting his reflections.

“No, this house is too vulnerable, I want us together,” Kurt replied, ignoring their black sheep who was probably settling into a comfortable bed as they spoke.

They blew out the candles, relying on the slight glow from the damped down fire in the Aga cooker. It would not penetrate the thick curtains and the home would appear abandoned to anyone passing who meant them harm. The sofas were cosy and sleep came quickly after nightfall. Kurt was pleased to see Paige lay her head on Peter’s shoulder before closing her eyes, he responded by stroking the hair from her face and over her ear. They were a much better match, but the complications it would cause with Debbie would have to be dealt with in due course. He waited for them all to drift into their dreams, carefully lifted Sarah’s head from his lap and laid her in the seat he vacated. He stalked from window to window, looking out into the night, clenching and unclenching his fist around the handle of the new machete. He wanted the mysterious attackers badly.

“How clear is it?” John asked the family who were all checking for threats in the grounds of the farmhouse. The pile of zombies was the only thing that they could see and they no longer posed any danger.

“I think we are good, let’s go. We take the bridleway onto Kinsen Road, and then go round the lake that was carved out to provide water for the steam pumps at the mine,” Kurt instructed and they left the quaint farmhouse in single file, several more blankets and duvets wrapped and bound to their backpacks. They would need to try and find some sleeping bags soon, the thick covers were too bulky to carry for extended periods of time, but for now they would aid in keeping warm.

The small child zombie was still laid on the top of the pile, like a bloody decoration on a cake from the deepest corner of hell. They each paid their respects, some with a small nod, only Debbie was whistling cheerfully.

“Shut your mouth, we don’t want to draw attention to ourselves,” Kurt growled and she glared in her accustomed manner.

Honey ran on, trying to pick up a fresh scent.

“Do you think she is scouting for us?” Sam asked Kurt.

“I don’t know, mate, she may just have picked up a fox or rabbit smell,” Kurt replied. It would be a boon if she could act as an early warning system.

The short journey to the lake was uneventful; no milling zombies were in the area. The road was clear of cars at the end of the horse track and they looked in all directions, making sure they weren’t being followed by anything, or more importantly, anyone. They trekked the short distance down the country road, passing fields and small stables in which horses were once kept. The stable doors were open but there was a lack of blood, a couple of the walking dead were laid on the concrete ground.

“Look at that!” Peter said, pointing. The zombies had been knocked down and then trampled, curved hoof marks imprinted their rotten flesh and their mashed skulls leaked clotted gore.

“They fought back, what magnificent creatures.” Kurt was filled with awe. He could see the shattered locks on the timber door frames. The horses must have kicked their way out and then slain the source of their terror.

“And here’s where they got out,” Sarah said, a small patch of fence had been broken down and the splintered timber had a clump of horse hair swaying in the wind.

“I love horses. I used to have two when I was a little girl,” Paige said happily, she was overjoyed to see that they were free, hopefully roaming the countryside and staying a safe distance from any zombies.

“I once ate horse in France,” Debbie added callously.

“I love horses too. I’ve always wanted to own one,” Peter started walking by Paige’s side.

“Since when you idiot? You have never mentioned it to me,” Debbie carried on trying to provoke an argument.

“I can show you how to ride one day, if you want,” Paige offered Peter, blanking her.

“Over my dead body. Peter, get away from her,” Debbie hissed, furious at the snub.

“No, I want to talk to her. The reason I never mentioned wanting a horse is because everything was always about you, what you wanted, when you wanted it, I barely even registered. I’m not having it anymore,” Peter answered defiantly.

Debbie shrieked and launched herself at Peter, pulling his hair and trying to kick him. Peter tried to push her away and Kurt rushed back to help.

“You leave him alone!” Paige screamed and Kurt grimaced, looking around for what the ruckus would bring down on them.

“Debbie, get off me, you’ve gone crazy!” Peter shouted through the assault. Paige grabbed Debbie’s black hair and punched her in the face, catching her in the eye. She fell to the ground, clutching her rapidly swelling eye socket.

“You fucking bitch, you hit me,” Debbie ranted through the tears, she had never been subject to her own harsh treatment.

“You’re gone,” Kurt snarled at Debbie, before picking up her backpack. “Leave her there.”

“You can’t do that, you bastard!” she sobbed.

The group moved away, no longer feeling any empathy or pity for the awful creature as she cursed and wailed on the cold road. They reached the entrance for the lake, a high wooden arch made from local lumber and carved by expert carpenters to feature birds and other woodland animals. It was a picture of serenity, the surface of the lake was still, granting a beautiful mirror of the sun pierced clouds, surrounding trees, and rolling hills. They could almost believe they had imagined the whole apocalypse; majestic swans swam on the surface, craning their necks at the newcomers. Where once they would have approached, seeking a meal of bread or grain, now they paddled away. They had learned a new fear and respect for the dangers of these upright walking, food throwing oddities.

“Over there, see that wire fence?” Kurt indicated the boundary of the mine, “That’s where we get in. Otherwise we need to walk around to the main entrance which is another half mile.”

The swans watched the group warily, circling and hissing from the safety of the lake. It was only a walk of minutes; the lake was not natural and only contained enough water to fuel the long dismantled steam pumps and machinery. The rusted pipes still projected from the bank of the lake near the fence, but had long ago ceased to draw water. It had become a dog walking site and a hugely popular picnic area. During the summer months it was usually packed with families frolicking at the water’s edge.

“That’s the old pump house. I have taken a tour of it when Ken worked here.” Kurt crouched and pointed to the brick building just inside the fence line. “It’s now the main offices for the operation. When we are over the fence, we hug the wall and see what we see.”

He pulled at the bottom of the chain link; it was already deformed from the antics of youngsters. They would break in to explore the shafts and cave systems for dares, or to take their young ladies into the darkness for more carnal desires. Kurt smiled to himself; he had used this very spot many years ago before he met Sarah. They climbed under and ran to the wall; the building was about sixty feet long with high set windows and one rear door. It blocked the view of the main site completely, they would need to be cautious to see what threats existed. Honey was still but silent, waiting for them to move. The metallic rustle of the fence caused them to look round and Debbie was struggling to shuffle underneath, the chains catching in the back of her clothing.

“Un-fucking-believable!” Kurt groaned and hurried over as her desperate struggles to free herself caused more noise than was safe. He clutched her jumper and ripped the chain free, leaving large gaping holes in it. She stood up and faced him, surly but no longer glaring, the closed right eye had been a painful lesson in humility. Peter would not meet her gaze; he had made his decision to move on.

“Stay behind me,” Kurt directed and they moved to the corner.

He looked out across the crushed gravel covered trucking area where the stone blocks were loaded before making its way to the required structure. The churches, cathedrals, and southern English castles had been supplied by this mine for nearly a thousand years. The loading area was the size of a football field, giving good access to the roads that spread out like arteries from the heart of the operation. The mine was originally known as Skull Rock, so named because of the projecting stone that looked like the top of a human cranium, smooth and white, surrounded by the lush emerald colouring of foliage and trees.

Land had been cleared to almost a square kilometre and the excavations had grown, the layered stone veins cut and loaded onto waiting boats for delivery by the River Lavant to Chichester Cathedral and Arundel Castle. The rock faces rose into the sky, deep caverns had been cut into the base bed and the dark openings looked like the missing teeth of the buried skull. The closest excavations were the originals, carried out by masons who had used simple tools and sweat to create square blocks that formed the walls of the most formidable fortifications known to man. The hard cap, a solid layer of rock, was held aloft by pillars of stone that had been left in strategic places, supporting the massive weight above. Kurt held out hope that the efforts of those ancient ancestors would provide a sanctuary, if they could reach the soldiers at the hospital and convince them of the safety of the high walls and towering crenulations that Arundel Castle would give.

“What do you see?” John asked from behind Kurt.

“There are only a few of the creatures. If we can make it to that road.” Kurt pointed and John leaned around to see. “We will end up near the bridge that crosses the river. Then it’s a quick run to the Beachwood Pub through Winspit Woods.”

“Good, let’s take care of those first,” John replied.

They left the cover of the brick office building and rushed as quietly as possible towards the dead. The loose stone was crunching with each step and the zombies turned as one, sensing fresh meat. Cleavers cut the air and the noises were akin to a butcher
’
s chopping block, severed muscle and splintered bone spreading over the ground. The contrast between the off white gravel and the putrid, dark blood was stark, a mad artist’s canvas of spattered corpse paint.

“Right, we head down that pathway, it leads us around the spiral road that follows the deeper mines, one of the branches from it takes us to the emergency entrance, in case there was ever a collapse and this way was blocked,” Kurt advised and they walked on, carefully stepping over the drenched ground.

“Come on, Honey, this way girl,” Paige encouraged the faithful hound who was stood perfectly still, staring at the pitch black opening of the nearest cavern. Suddenly she crouched low and bared her teeth, growling deeply.

“Oh my God!” Sarah shouted at the unfolding horror.

The cave mouth issued a flood of death, spewing forth like a tide of vomit from a rancid mouth. First ten, then a hundred, more and more flowed towards them.

“
Run
!” Kurt yelled and turned on his heels, only to be confronted by a large group that had followed them from the rear of the office. Debbie was screaming, hopping from foot to foot in her terror, knowing they were trapped between the closing jaws of eternal damnation.

“Dad, in there!” Sam shouted, making a break for the main door of the building. It was constructed of thick metal, designed to keep thieves from breaking in and stealing the expensive machinery of the mining operation. Three steel roller shuttered doors were set alongside the main entrance, behind which would be assorted tools and mechanic areas for servicing and repairs. If the door was locked they would be doomed, their last stand would be short but they would go down fighting to their last breath. Kurt grabbed the handle and pushed but it was locked tight, totally immovable.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, I love you all,” Kurt wept. The swarm was closing fast, greedy for food that screamed. He held the short hatchet at his side, ready to hack at the approaching zombies, even though it was futile.

“Dad! Sorry, Mr T. Look!” Braiden had pulled the door wide open. In his haste Kurt hadn’t even tried both directions. He ushered the rest through the opening and felt the first grasp on the back of his life jacket. Bellowing his hatred, Kurt twisted so hard and fast it ripped the arm from the socket of the cadaver who wanted to feast, his axe cleaved the forehead and bridge of the nose before bursting forth through the upper teeth. The attacker fell and Kurt seized the chance to duck through the door, pulling it shut with an ear splitting crash in the small reception area. He slipped the deadbolt into the holes at the top and bottom. It was unlikely the Hellspawn would have the ability to open the door with the weight of putrescent flesh pressing against the other side, but Kurt wouldn’t take any chances. The frame was sturdy, solid steel and would hold for a while, if not indefinitely.

“That’s disgusting,” Debbie gasped, stepping away from Kurt. The arm was still holding him tightly, hanging from his jacket.

“Come here.” John stepped forward and pried the fingers loose, before throwing the severed limb to the ground.

They all stood in the main foyer of the mine reception, looking around and trying to calm their racing hearts. The curved desk was made of cheap melamine panel, the useless phone and computer gathered dust on the desk top and the company logo was embossed on the wall to the rear. A water chiller sat in the corner alongside a coffee machine for waiting guests. The bottle was nearly empty, but they would be able to retrieve a few litres of life giving fluid before it ran dry. Steps led up to the main offices above, a sign saying ‘Authorised Personnel Only’ was fixed to the door at the top. To the right was the entrance to some more offices and they could see the open garage area beyond through glass partitions, they surmised that these offices housed the mechanic staff and administration team.

“Where the hell did they all come from?” John asked and everyone just shrugged. It was as if they had been waiting for them.

“It doesn’t matter right now; we need to clear the building. I can’t hear anything over that ruckus outside so we will need to be careful, we won’t hear them coming,” Kurt spoke loudly, the combined hammering and moaning from a thousand cadavers was a tumultuous din that frayed their already stretched nerves.

“Stay behind me. Gloria, are you loaded?” John moved towards the stairs and she nodded, raising the gun to keep the barrels clear of the others.

“Ok, we check up there first.” Kurt ascended slowly, trying to hear any sounds from inside that were being masked, but it was useless. The clatter of the metal being struck sounded like heavy rainfall on a tin roof, the roller doors must have been under assault now too. He prayed that they would hold against the surge of zombies. He put his ear to the ‘Authorised Personnel Only’ door but it was still fruitless, he longed to scream and tell the corpses to shut the hell up, though they were unlikely to comply.