Hellspawn Odyssey (15 page)

“It’s getting dark; we should all turn in for the night. Thank you so much for opening up and letting us in, you saved our lives,” Sarah suggested, noticing the yawns and bleary eyes of the group. First light would allow them to think clearly and decide how to best extricate themselves from the pub, and their next destination.

“I agree. You look like you all had a hell of a day. If you need anything, please just tap the ceiling there.” Jodi pointed to a section in the other bar area. “That’s where my bed is, I will come straight down.”

“Thanks so much, Love, we are in your debt.” John shook her hand, the grip was firm and John respected the lady even more.

“Sleep tight.” She smiled and walked off, the sounds of her creaking footfalls climbing the stairs carrying over the noise of the undead outside.

The family drifted off quickly, only Peter remained awake. The discomfort that had been somewhat numbed by more painkillers and a couple of shots of vodka, yet would still ensure he remained awake most of the night. He wondered where Debbie was and what she was doing. He didn’t feel any emotional attachment toward his ex-fiancée, only guilt at the thought of leaving her alone somewhere. Maybe this was the best place for her. Thoughts spun through his mind, if they could convince Jodi to come with them, the decision would be easy. She seemed strong and resourceful and would make a great addition to the survivors group. The noises of creaking from above caught his attention, but this wasn’t footsteps. It was constant, rhythmic. Debbie was having sex with Mike.

Sam awoke with an aching bladder. They had drunk several bottles of cola and water during the evening. Honey looked up, acknowledged his quick stroke and fell back to sleep. He stepped over the rest of the group and pushed through the swing door into the toilet. The smell of pine disinfectant was on the air and fresh urinal cakes were in the troughs. The door swung closed, blocking the soft glow of the wood burners’ fire. Sam held his arms out and walked forward, feeling for the tiled wall. He found the cold, smooth surface and unzipped, aiming at the point where he knew the bowl to be. The sound of him emptying his bladder finished and was replaced with a quiet grumble. It wasn’t his belly, it was more a vibration, difficult to pinpoint. It seemed to come from all around him, were there that many zombies outside? The vibration increased in intensity, it was like a steady drone, not at all like the sharp hammering of dead limbs on surfaces. He zipped up and pushed back through into the bar, happy to be in company again.

“Dad, something is going on. There are noises.” Sam shook Kurt by the shoulder.

“What, where?” Kurt sat up immediately. The grogginess of awakening didn’t seem to affect the group anymore. As soon as they were awake it was like a light switch had been flicked in their minds, triggering instant alertness.

They went to the window and peeked through a small crack. There was indeed a steady vibration, pulsing and reverberating from the walls and glass.

“What the hell is it?” Kurt asked the dark night and walking horrors. Movement from the right caused them to crane their necks and they saw a large garbage truck creep slowly round the bend in the road. It stopped with a faint squeal of brakes and sat there, facing the pub, watchng.

“A rubbish truck? What are they doing?” Sam whispered to his father.

“I don’t know, mate, maybe they are just driving around trying to find a place to rest,” Kurt answered, watching the metal hulk in the pale moonlight. A few of the dead had broken off to go and investigate this new stimulus. The driver of the vehicle didn’t seem concerned as they reached him, banging on the side panels and moaning. The truck was put in gear and started to roll forward, crushing two of the intrigued cadavers under the wheels. Kurt strained to see into the dark cab but the moon only provided a shadowy outline of a person. It could have been a man or a woman.

“At least they will draw a few of them away,” Kurt commented as the rear of the van passed them, closely followed by the chain of walking death. Another squeal of brakes broke the silence and the reversing lights came on, blinding in the night. The sound of the reversing beacon shrilled, warning the unheeding zombies to move out of the way. The driver floored it and swung the wide back directly at the pub, picking up as much speed as possible.

“Everyone, up. Now! Some lunatic’s going to ram us!” Kurt called backwards, rousing the group as he frantically dragged Sam away from the windows. Both father and son grabbed tables and held them facing the impending impact, scattering checkers all over the floor. The grinding crash reverberated in the confines of the bar. Brickwork and glass shards bounced from the table tops that Kurt and Sam held, shielding their loved ones as they gathered their meagre belongings. The bright lights blinked out when the driver shifted to forward, bringing another rumble of breaking masonry and snapping wooden joists from the upper floor.

“It’s coming down, get out of the way!” shouted John, pulling them all toward the safety of the toilet block. The ceiling protested with more rending snaps as unsupported weight was brought to bear on centuries old wood. The crashing noises subsided when a structural support landed with a thud on the solid bar, giving them a small window to escape through the four-foot-high gap.

“
Go
!” screamed Kurt, seeing the thick timber start to bend in the middle, threatening to snap at any moment and drop the whole roof onto their heads.

John went first, ducking low and encountering the first of the outside dead. With a single slash the top of the skull was split open and the creature dropped back outside. More were coming now that the van had disappeared into the distance, cheating them of their meal.

“Faster, get behind the bar and through the door.” John was ushering them past. They were all coughing from the dust that was swirling in the area, eyes stinging and red.

“Who the fuck was that?” wheezed Kurt.

“I have no idea, but they want us dead,” John answered while severing the head of a female zombie that had stepped over the rubble. They both fled into the small corridor to join the rest of the group and try to get to those trapped upstairs before the whole place collapsed. Incredibly, Jodi, Mike and Debbie were already waiting. Jodi looked scared but Mike was furious, he stepped forward and grabbed Kurt by the throat.

“Look what you’ve done to us. You and your fucking family!” Mike roared, slamming Kurt into the wall.

“Not so brave are you now tough guy?” Debbie laughed and danced with joy at the spectacle.

“Mike, leave him alone, what are you doing? It’s not their fault,” Jodi screamed at her partner.

The others were reluctant to hurt Mike. They had been the catalyst for the devastation and felt guilty their home was now in ruins. Braiden felt no such compunction, he stepped forward issuing a sharp head-butt straight into Debbie’s face, breaking her nose with a crack and a gush of blood. Slumping to the ground she wailed, clawing at her face to try and rip the pain away. Braiden passed John and Peter who were wrestling with Mike, trying to break the stranglehold. He withdrew the sharpened screwdriver and stabbed at Mike’s buttocks, penetrating the muscle. Blood ran down the steel shank and Mike dropped to the floor, screaming and holding his pierced flesh.

“You’re fucking dead!” screamed Mike at the young boy who stared back at him, wiping the bloodied driver on his trousers.

“Want me to finish the job?” Braiden asked, taking a pace forward and raising the weapon, ready to follow through with the threat.

“Ok, sorry,” Mike groaned in pain, holding up a hand to ward off the attack, “You didn’t have to stab me though.”

“It’s only your arse. Fat and muscle, no major blood vessels. It will hurt like a bastard though. My dad Lennie used to do it all the time with a box cutter on people who owed him money. He called it striping, I guess because of the scars afterwards. We can call yours spotting. You shouldn’t have hurt my dad,” Braiden said, cowing Mike with his stare.

Mike stood up and his bottom muscles flexed, sending white hot pain through his body. He would pay Braiden back for this, with interest. Debbie came over and tried to help but he just pushed her away.

“Get the fuck away from me,” he snarled.

“I was only trying to help,” Debbie complained, fresh tears running down her cheeks but not from the broken nose this time. The family were shocked. A similar rebuke from Peter would have been met with vitriol and screaming.

“Let’s go, we go out through the kitchen door. Jodi you said it was clear?” John asked as they bundled through into the cooking area.

“Oh no,” Sarah moaned as the sounds of hammering greeted them from behind the door and heavy freezer.

“Jodi, are there any other ways out?” Gloria asked desperately.

“No, I’m sorry,” she said with a look that spoke of understanding. They were trapped and the only way out would be to fight. She reached into a small nook and pulled out a Louisville Slugger aluminium baseball bat that she used for training sessions with her old softball team; the Chichester Wildcats.

“We have to go through them,” Sam declared, trying to carry off the bravado. The fear in his eyes betrayed the truth; some, or all, would die here because of his childish fantasies.

“We can’t, we are too disoriented. I can barely see from all the dust in my eyes. We would be slaughtered,” John reasoned, trying to blink away the tears.

“The cellar is safe, we will hide out and decide what to do when we are more prepared,” Kurt directed them all down the wooden staircase, watching the bar door for signs of movement. They just made it down and closed the hatch after themselves as the first rotting monster entered the hallway. It was oblivious of the floor and hook mounted within it, so it just shambled past into the kitchen they had just vacated. More came, many more. The pub had never been busier.

**********

Sarah convinced Mike to drop his trousers so she could wrap some sterile bandage around the buttock from their first aid kit. Debbie mothered him, fluttering around like a hummingbird, wiping his sweaty face with a cloth, which only soured his mood further.

“Leave me alone for fuck sake!” Mike shouted, grabbing the fabric and throwing it into a dark corner.

“Sorry,” Debbie whispered. She was now the weaker member in the partnership, no longer able to bully. It was a remarkable transformation in personality, abuser to the abused.

Jodi ignited the lanterns and placed them on the floor. They had all moved away from the collapsed end of the building, John had worried that the weight could drop into the cellar at any time. The lager barrel area with the lift was brightly illuminated with flame glow. Candles from the bug out bags were lit and placed evenly on the floor.

“Can we get out through there?” Braiden asked, pointing up at the twin steel doors of the lift access.

“No, it’s got a heavy duty padlock. We could smash through, but the noise would mean they would all be waiting for us,” Jodi explained.

“So we really are trapped,” Mike complained. “Great work.”

“We’ve survived worse than this. Don’t worry, we will be fine,” Kurt said, massaging his neck.

“Did I say I was worried?” Mike said, glowering.

“It’s obvious you’re worried, that’s why you were hidden away in here,” Braiden stated, trying to get a rise out of the tattooed bully.

“You little bastard! I’ll rip you apart with my bare hands!” Mike stepped towards Braiden, ready to take him on even with the screwdriver.

“I don’t think so,” Sam said, raising the slingshot and aiming it straight at his face. Gloria had the shotgun aimed at his crotch and the rest got between them with razor sharp blades at the ready. Honey growled deep in her throat, daring Mike to move. His bravery faltered at the group
’
s anger and his shoulders slumped in resignation. In his inner mind he thought;
They will pay for this, each and every one of them. They won’t even see it coming.

“One more word and I will kill you, do you understand?” Kurt asked, clutching the hatchet. Mike just stared, refusing to answer, trying to regain some confidence. Sam loosed the bearing and it tore through several bottles of fine wine, shattering them and spilling the sweet smelling contents onto the earth which absorbed it like a dry sponge. He reloaded in one fluid motion before Mike had finished ducking and flinching at the passage of the metal.

“Jesus, you could have killed me!” Mike shouted.

“Yes, he could have, but he didn’t. Now calm down so we can get out of here. We never wanted to cause you both any aggravation.” Sarah was trying to placate Mike. Any conflict within the group would leave them all vulnerable. They may not like each other, but survival depended on cooperation.

“What we may have to do is raise the hatch and kill them one by one as they fall down the stairs. It isn’t the best idea, but it’s all we have that I can think of.” Kurt had calmed down and lowered his weapon.

“The place is swarming with them, are you crazy?” Mike wasn’t too happy with the plan.

“It doesn’t matter; the hatch will provide a bottleneck. They can only get down one or two at a time which is more than manageable,” John explained. “We could even hide by the side of the staircase while someone acts as bait. Then we destroy them from the shadows.”

A rumble of movement caused them all to duck and cover their heads. Streamers of dust fell from the ceiling where the bar area had now been buried by the upper floors.

“If that lot comes through, we will have dozens down here with us,” Gloria said, listening to the settling of tonnes of wood and brick onto the cellar ceiling.

“That doesn’t look like dust.” Jodi pointed to a puffy cloud that was being drawn down into the darkness.

“You have got to be shitting me. Again?” Kurt groaned, holding his head in his hands. Everyone looked at him with confusion.

Realisation dawned on Jodi when her lantern banished some of the darkness, “It’s smoke. The wood burner must have been damaged. The pub is on fire.”

“What do you mean, again?” Mike demanded, already feeling the oppressive weight of the burning building.

“Not now. We have to smash the lift and take our chances,” John shouted.

“I would shoot it, but the ricochet from the steel could kill us.” Gloria lowered her gun, ignoring the impulse to blast through the plate to get at the lock.

“Jodi, how thick is the wall up there?” John asked her, pointing at the blocked barrel tunnel.

“Only a single layer of bricks. It blended in so well no one would even know there is a hole there to get down here,” she detailed.

“Breaking that out will be quicker and quieter, what do you think?” Kurt asked his father.

“Let’s do it, Jodi can we borrow the lamp please?” Kurt held his hand out and she passed him the glass covered flame.