Chapter Forty One
His breathing was similar to that of an old asthmatic man who had suddenly woken up in a bed of feathers. His heart felt that it was ready to burst, as it had been years since his body had been put under so much pressure as far as an aerobic workout was concerned. His head throbbed and pounded viciously, and the feeling in his injured leg had gone, but he continued to drag the heavy thigh that was slowing him down.
His shirt was soaked with perspiration; his adrenaline was beginning to wane despite his fear being ever present. Was his body giving up?
Come on. Another hundred yards and I'm there. Surely someone will let me in.
Bonser could now see some of the roofs of the houses in the main street of Heath Hayes. He was getting nearer. He originally adhered to Pickle's threat, but the situation was different now. If only Pickle hadn't have shot him, he would have had a fighting chance and wouldn't have come back to the village. But Bonser
had
returned, and he had about a hundred admirers following him, the closest being only twenty yards away from him.
Jason was certain he was finished, and half-laughed at the scene that was unfolding. It was like a scene from Rocky, where Sylvester Stallone was running through the streets to be chased by hundreds of kids, only this was a slowed down, horror version.
He wondered if this was his punishment for being such a bastard in life. If it was, he was in for a painful demise. He never saw himself as a God-believing individual, and even if he suddenly had an apparition of Jesus Christ himself, he knew that even the Son of God couldn't forgive such a man who had not only behaved terribly before and during his incarceration, but had behaved badly as the new world began to unfold.
He had felt nothing for the woman he raped and strangled when he turned up at Milford after his escape; and although he had twangs of guilt for leaving her baby to starve to death, he still did it.
He also thought briefly about Pickle and Karen.
In hindsight, he should have taken care of the two as soon as he arrived, but removing Karen and Pickle was never his original intention. He liked Karen as a person and was grateful for the lift. He thought that the temporary stay in the house would be good for him, but as soon as she reprimanded him for shooting one of the creatures, he was enraged and knew he had already broken her trust. He was certain that she was close to asking him to leave, but the house
and
the van would have been perfect to enhance his survival. That was when he decided to act. He had planned to rape Karen and kill her after he had taken care of Pickle, but he had underestimated the bed-ridden individual in the bedroom.
He now came to one of the first houses of the main street to the right of the road, and could see two ghouls that were already there, but they were unaware of his presence and had their backs to him and were moving away from the street. The house appeared to have a car on the drive and he pounded the doors to be let in, convinced there was someone in there, hiding. He knew that most residents had fled the area; it could be seen from the lack of vehicles in the street.
After more seconds of pounding, he crossed the road toward another house where there sat a blue Sedan. The house was opposite where Pickle and Karen were staying; at this stage now, he would have quite gladly taken a bullet off the ex-inmate.
He could see them in their dozens, spilling onto the main road and knew this house was his last chance. He frantically hammered the door and screamed for him to be allowed in. He then tried to run at the door to break in, but the pain in his leg had highlighted that Jason Bonser's running days were over.
He dragged himself into the middle of the street, desperately trying to get back to the house where he had stayed the night, hoping for a reprieve. Even, if by some miracle, he
was
given a reprieve, it was too late anyway. They encircled the panicky Jason Bonser, including the two that were initially walking away, and he sighed in defeat. Whatever happened to Kyle Horan back at the prison,
he
was about to endure the very same fate, the same horror, and the same pain.
An exhausted Jason Bonser stopped to catch his breath and looked up to the house that gave him shelter for the night. He could see in the front bedroom window, a small boy who glared at him with wide, frightened eyes. The boy waved at Jason, who turned around to see the street infested with the things. It wasn't his fault. He had nowhere else to go. He was like an evil pied piper, who had brought the vermin back with him.
Bonser turned and stared at the house and yelled at no one in particular, "This is your fault! What was I supposed to do? Just lie down and die? You should have killed me when you had the chance!"
He held out his arms, exhausted, waiting for the first bite. He was pulled to the ground by the crowd of the contaminated. The pain was indescribable as he could feel parts of his body coming away from him, but he refused to scream, even when their rotting fingers gauged his eyes out.
He remained silent and bit his bottom lip so hard with the pain, his top teeth had taken it off before they slowly pulled his head away from his neck.
Chapter Forty Two
Thomas Slade's mouth was so dry, it felt like his tongue had shrivelled to a third of its size, and once his sappy eyes slowly prised themselves open, he began to frantically lick his lips. His confusing eyes scanned round the small bedroom, and took him a matter of seconds to realise that he was in a stranger's house and that his young life had changed for the worse.
How long had he been sleeping? He didn't have the answer to that particular question, but welcomed being in the room and being in a safe house where his parents were, as well as numerous others. This had been the safest he had felt in over a week. His mother tried her best to shield him from the reality that was unfolding, but he knew that something wasn't quite right. His mother constantly broke down in tears; he wasn't at school, and hadn't seen his friends in ages. Every time he asked after his friends, his mum would change the subject and cry once again. He was certain that something had happened to them. But what?
It had only been days ago since his Grandma had 'fallen asleep' and had to be buried in the woods. His mummy said she was in heaven, and although he missed her, he was pleased that she was now with God.
Young Thomas Slade sat upright and swung his legs to his left, to prepare himself to get on his feet. He stood and stretched his body, bending his spine in the shape of a banana, and was unmoved that he had woken up to find his mother not by his side. The room was dark, and Thomas stood on a side table and carefully pulled the red curtains back to allow the daylight to spill in and to reveal that the main street of Heath Hayes had a couple of Lurkers—as Paul Parker would call them, when they were back at Longdon Village Hall.
Thomas felt unmoved by their presence, as they clumsily shambled around the street doing no harm to anyone but themselves. It appeared that they were moving away from the house. He giggled slightly as one stumbled and smacked its head off a streetlight. He knew the story would be different if he was out in the street himself, and was aware that these things would get a sudden burst of energy—like most predators—whenever they saw food, as he had now seen it for himself. The first time was when a neighbour was attacked when they were staying at their own house on Crabtree Way; the other time was when they ran from them in the woods only a few hours ago.
His eyes became bored of the free slapstick entertainment that was being provided by the dead beings, and he stared across the road and saw in a bedroom window, from the house opposite, a young girl. She was no older than seven years old and Thomas smiled that—apart from Yoler—he had seen someone else of similar age for the first time in over a week. He slowly raised his hand in a kind gesture to say hello. Although she was a fair distance, Thomas could see fright on the girl's face, and was pleased to see that she returned the gesture by raising her own hand.
The little man didn't know what to come up with next, so he pointed at the girl and then gave her the thumbs up. He wanted it to be interpreted as: "Are you okay?" The young girl had interpreted his hand gesture correctly, but gave him an answer that made him unhappy. She shook her head and pointed behind her. Thomas guessed that she was pointing at her bedroom door. Was someone trying to get in? Her own parents, perhaps?
Thomas was told not to make a noise while in the house, but he was toying with the idea whether to open the window and bellow to the young girl about what he wanted to say next. What were his parents going to do to him if he did this? Ground him? He decided from a safety point of view, that this action wouldn't benefit anyone that dwelled in the house and decided not to take his idea any further.
His eyes were distracted back to the street, and saw the two Lurkers moving away from view down the road, as if they were bored with the lack of activity. As his eyes glared at the figures that were moving away from the area, his eyes almost magnetically looked to the right, and saw a bloodied figure limping his way down the road. He looked human.
Twenty yards behind him was a small crowd of the creatures entering the main road, following him.
Thomas' heart increased its pump, and his shocked eyes widened as he looked on helplessly to see the man pounding the door of the house that was opposite him, the same house where the girl was. Thomas looked up at the girl and saw that she had disappeared, and wondered what had happened to her. He looked at the man once again, who was now standing in the middle of the road and was shouting something he couldn't really work out.
Thomas could then hear the gallop of feet up the stairs, heading toward the bedroom. The door swung open, and his mother stood and commanded, "We're going." Thomas waved at the man who was being surrounded by the ghoulish creatures, and was grabbed by his mother as the man from outside had ceased his shouting.
Chapter Forty Three
"We're gonna have to leave," Pickle announced to the group.
Pickle remained glaring out the front window, peering from the crack of the curtains. He saw the bloody leftovers of Jason Bonser, and there wasn't much left, apart from blood and entrails. In hindsight, he wished he had now killed him, but at the same time, he was a little angry with Karen and wondered how far she had actually driven him out.
As if she could read his mind, Karen walked behind Pickle and placed her hand on his shoulder, and said, "I'm sorry. I thought two miles for an injured man was far enough. I thought the threat of us shooting him, if he returned, would have kept him away. He must have had literally nowhere to go. Meaning—"
"Meaning, there could be fuckin' hundreds o' the things, everywhere!" Pickle interrupted with disdain. "And this place was the only place he could go. Load and grab what little ammo we have left, I think we're gonna need it."
"Pickle? What's happening?" Lee Hayward was the first of the new group to speak, as the rest stayed a few yards away, standing in a daze. Was this nightmare ever going to end?
"Why don't we just stay in here, it's safer, isn't it?" Paul Parker's question forced Pickle's audience to glare at the man in charge for an answer.
"No, it's not safe," Pickle snapped. "If we take a gamble and hide, and they all walk by the house into another village, then great. But if it backfires and they surround the house, we're fucked. I'm not taking the chance." Pickle pointed out the window and showed Parker that some were already approaching some houses on the opposite side of the road, trying to get in. "Sooner or later, these things will get in. I'm assuming there'll be hundreds more and once they charge the house, we'll be trapped. There are a few out there now as it is. If we leave it too late, we won't be able to get to the vans' doors."
"So what do you suggest?" Jack asked the question, while Kerry and Thomas gripped onto his sleeve.
Pickle looked out of the window and said, "At the moment, it's clear enough for us to run out to the front door and get into the van. If we wait any longer we'll be screwed." He looked down on the floor, and remembered the time he, KP, Janine and Jamie parked up at Little Haywood to get the guns, before stopping off at the Wolseley Arms pub for the night.
Pickle looked through the front window again, and could see dozens appearing at the top of the street about fifty yards away. He knew they were wasting time with their hesitation, so he took the leadership role straight away. He turned to the group and yelled, "Let's go."
They all hesitantly piled out of the front door; Pickle told Jack to take Kerry and Thomas into the front of the van. They did just that and then Pickle took another gander and saw the things speeding up; they were getting nearer. "Right, the rest in the back. Quickly!"
Pickle tried the door that led to the back of the van and the small cells, but the door wouldn't budge.
Karen slapped her forehead. "Shit! I locked it."
Knowing that Jack, who was now in the driver's seat, had the keys to the van and the fact that the things were yards away from the group, Pickle cried, "Right! Back in the house. We'll never make it in on time."
They rushed back in and Pickle ushered everybody else to the bottom of the stairs and told them to make their way to the top of the landing. He then tried to shut the front door but dozens of rotting fingers of the dead grasped the door, preventing it from shutting properly. Pickle kept his body weight against it and knew that he couldn't hold it forever.
While Pickle was holding the door, some of the ghouls turned to the van and then headed towards it. Kerry, who was in the front with Jack and Thomas, held her son's head in her chest and doubly made sure the door was locked as their evil faces peered inside; their rotting hands slapped the glass, and their deathly moans could be heard from inside the van. Jack looked into his side mirror and could see that some were breaking their way in through the front door of the house; the frosted glass panes of the front door began to smash as the door slowly gave way.
One of the panes in the glass of the front door had smashed and an arm tried to grab and snatch at Pickle. He palmed one in the face while holding the door with his other, and managed to push the thing backwards. He tried to shut the front door again, by hopefully severing the fingers that were grasping it, but it had at least five of the things behind, trying to prise it open, and one of them had their full arm inside, desperately trying to claw at something or someone.
"I can't hold it much longer." Pickle announced to Karen, Paul and Lee who were standing halfway up the stairs. "Get upstairs. Main bedroom."
Pickle was strong, but not strong enough to keep them at bay. With the palms of his hands against the door, he looked behind him. Satisfied the group had gone upstairs, he released the door, picked up his shotgun and bolted upstairs while the things behind him clambered and crawled after him.
Paul Parker appeared from the room and stood at the top of the landing next to the shotgun-wielding ex-inmate. Pickle was impressed with Paul's bravery as he jumped in front of him and ran halfway down the stairs and begun kicking the first of them in the face, forcing the clumsy creatures to topple down the stairs a little as they crawled up.
Paul ran back upstairs to the top where Pickle was. "They can't climb, can they?"
Pickle shook his head. "The atrophy should stop them, but as yer can see, they can
crawl
their way up. Determined little fuckers!"
Paul kicked a few more, as they clumsily—although full of determination—crawled their way up, until, Pickle commanded him to get back, as he was paranoid that Paul was in danger of having his leg grabbed and experiencing the feeling of being bit.
Pickle then yelled to Karen who was opening the bedroom window, "Has he gone?"
Karen looked out of the main bedroom window to see the van was still there, surrounded. "No, he's still there."
Good boy, Jack.
"Get onto the van, we don't have much time!"
Now that the creatures were spilling into the house, it made the task of jumping onto the van a little less dangerous, not much, but just a little, as the modest crowd around the van was thinning out a little and heading into the house. What they couldn't see was the other hundred or so approaching nearer the main road and turning left where Bonser had unintentionally led them.
Pickle stood at the top of the landing, as Karen was in the bedroom trying to guide Lee and Paul out safely onto the van.
Some of the creatures were somehow managing the stairs. Most of them crawled their way up and Pickle allowed the first one to crawl to the last step, its face touching the barrel. The shotgun was discharged and created two heads to explode, including one of them behind. The landing wall's cream paintwork had been decorated with something a lot more macabre within seconds. Pickle released another cartridge and two of the beings that were side-by-side one another and four steps away from the top, experienced their heads exploding in unison, decorating the other crawling creatures behind with their brain debris.
Their motionless bodies caused a minor blockage on the stairs, which was causing the rest of them behind to struggle to get to Pickle. He reloaded and released another shot. Again, taking the head off what used to be a teenage girl, her face was non-existent from the nose up as she stopped moving on her all fours.
He looked into the opened bedroom. Karen was the only one left to escape. She looked over to him, but his facial expression urged her to hurry up. Once she jumped, he turned his gun around and used the butt of the gun to cause damage to another two making their way up. He decided to release one more cartridge and did so from a distance. One of the things actually managed to stand in the middle of the stairs after crawling its way up initially. Pickle shot that particular one and it fell.
The stairs were now blocked at the bottom with corpses, while dozens desperately tried to scramble over their dead subordinates. Now that everybody had left, Pickle decided that it was time to go. These things just didn't know when to give up.