The Left Series (Book 6): Left On An Island (15 page)

I turned the spear over in my hands and held the point up, facing away from me at eye level. The male zombie in the red robe lurched forward, flapping his hands in a swatting motion. I dodged left then right, avoiding the clawing black finger nails. I lined up the spear point with the guy’s forehead and drove my arms and my upper body forward, gripping the metal shaft two handed. The zombie moved his head slightly and the barbed spear point thrust through his left eye socket, causing an eruption of brown liquid from the wound.

The male zombie quivered for a second then fell sideways onto the patio slabs with a combination of rotting brains and diseased blood pooling around his head.

I gripped the blood stained spear and glanced across the backyard. The two female zombies were still coming towards me but between them, I saw the French doors to the rear of the house wide open and more movement from the dim kitchen beyond.

I moved forward and kicked the barbecue grill still lying on its side. The rectangular shaped roaster slid across the patio and crashed into the skinny female zombie to my left. The creature made a kind of rasping noise as the grill smashed into her kneecaps and knocked her off her feet.

“Wilde Man, I could use a little help here,” Smith called out.

His voice sounded a little bit higher pitched than usual and if I didn’t know any better, I would have said he sounded scared.

I couldn’t take my gaze from the two female zombies for the time being and would have to deal with them first. The one to the left was trying to stagger to her feet, while the one to the right was around six feet away from me. I rushed forward, driving the end of the spear into the gaping mouth of the nearest female to the right. The ghoul finally went silent and crumpled in a heap on the patio slabs. The other female rose up on unsteady legs and continued her slow pursuit of me.

I took a moment to glance back to the side wall and saw Smith still perched on top of the ladder, a couple of feet from the boundary. Several gnarled hands had hold of the bottom hem and the sides of the green silky robe and were pulling him downward so his face almost pressed against the ladder rungs. He held one expended spear gun in his right hand and the other was slung around his back. He gripped the ladder’s side rail with his left hand and his face was contorted in strain, trying to keep himself in place.

More movement from inside the kitchen interior to my left caused me to turn my attention away from Smith. The second female zombie came at me with surprising speed. Long ginger hair flailed from side to side as the ghoul wailed and gnashed her blackened teeth. I jumped back a step then swung the spear two handed in a sideways motion. The point embedded itself firmly in the woman’s temple, producing a spray of blood that showered her lifeless cohort on the ground. The second woman floundered then went limp and her body collapsed over the top of the first female.

More animated bodies lurched from the French doors and stumbled out onto the patio area. I knew I didn’t have time to confront them as saving Smith was now priority. I turned away from the back of the house and moved quickly to the side wall. Smith hadn’t moved and still struggled to keep his grip on the ladder.

“Hang on in there, Smith,” I shouted above the moans and shrieks from the other side of the wall.

“What the fuck do you think I’m trying to do?” he grunted in return.

I moved as close as possible and lifted my right hand, still holding the spear with my left.

“Give me your hand,” I yelled.

I knew by the expression on his face he was reluctant to let go of the ladder.

“Toss the spear gun,” I instructed.

Smith grimaced and let the weapon fall from his grasp. He reached forward and I gripped hold of his free hand.

“On the count of three, I’m going to pull you forward to me,” I said clearly. “Okay with that?”

Smith nodded but then his eyes widened.

“Behind you, Wilde Man,” he spluttered. “More zombies on your six, kid.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

I took a brief glance over my right shoulder and saw at least half a dozen undead corpses staggering across the patio towards me. They were mostly males dressed in ripped remnants of expensive looking suits. The linings and shirts beneath were torn to shreds and several bite marks peppered their necks and faces.

“Fuck it - Three!” I yelled and hurled myself backward in a jerky movement, while keeping a hold of Smith’s hand.

The maneuver didn’t quite work out how I’d planned. Smith didn’t release his grip on the ladder in time and the whole damn thing shunted across the top of the side wall. His green robe partially tore away in the zombie’s grasping hands but Smith managed to stay on top of the ladder.

The top rung smashed squarely into my forehead, sending me reeling backwards and to my right. I lost all sense of balance and felt Smith’s hand release from my grasp. I felt the hard surface of the patio slabs slam into my side as I hit the deck with some force. A loud clattering sound followed, combined with grunts and moans from the undead all around me.

Bright sunlight temporarily blinded me as I thrashed around on the ground, trying to get to my feet and find out what the hell was going on. My vision cleared when I stumbled upright, the wall blocking the sun’s rays.

Smith lay curled in ball next to the side wall with the ladder partially on top of him. I didn’t know if he was bitten or unconscious or just had the wind knocked out of him. A low grunting noise from behind caused me to spin around. A male zombie, a big black guy with long dreadlocks and a ripped dark blue suit snarled a few feet from my face. Somehow, I’d managed to keep hold of the single spear in my left hand. I raised the weapon quickly and jerked the pointy end forward at the scowling face in front of me. The spear penetrated hard bone in the guy’s forehead. The ghoul’s sneer disappeared and his face went completely blank as he sunk to his knees.

More partly suited zombies followed on behind the guy I’d just killed. They growled as though they disapproved of me ending their companion’s existence. I heard a grunt behind me and swiveled around. Smith shoved the ladder off him, shook his head and used the curving side wall to lean on while he pulled himself up. He looked slightly groggy and unsteady on his feet.

“You okay, Smith?” I called out.

“Never better, kid,” groaned. “Always ready to party.”

I glanced beyond Smith’s shoulder and saw the side gate behind him was still closed and bolted. I turned back to the French doors and saw the bunch of undead closing in on us. We had to move quickly. I edged backwards down the side alley and saw more zombies staggering out from the back exit. 

“You okay to make a run for it?”

“Yeah,” Smith replied. “You still got the spare ammo?”

I winced. “Shit both sacks are over the far end of the yard.” There were too many undead between us and the backyard’s rear wall to retrieve the spare spears.

“All right, forget about it,” Smith said. “Let’s just focus on getting away from this damn house.” He shuffled towards the gate and ripped back the bolt.

I moved quickly alongside Smith and silently prayed no zombies would be waiting for us on the opposite side of the gate. The suited undead rapidly approached and now occupied the space between the side boundary wall and the curved wall of the house. We couldn’t go anywhere else. 

Smith pulled the spear gun off his back and aimed at the entranceway in front of us. He nodded at me once and I jerked open the gate. A lot of undead milled around the street but seemed more preoccupied with getting inside the grounds of the house we’d vacated to notice us. The rotten crowd lumbered about around twenty feet directly in front of the gate and the street to our left was fairly clear.

“Come on, let’s haul ass,” Smith murmured, tapping me on the shoulder. “Go left and we’ll try and loop back around to that fenced compound surrounding the big house.”

I nodded and slipped through the gate. Smith followed behind me and closed the gate, applying the latch in place. The suited zombies almost immediately began banging on the wooden panels behind us.

A few undead noticed us emerge from the gateway. They stopped moving towards the first house and turned in the street, growling as they started lumbering in our direction.

“Let’s go,” Smith whispered.

We took off left in a stooping half run, already feeling the debilitating effects of a troubled morning. The huge castle loomed in the distance, overlooking the village. We followed the pot holed road, which quickly narrowed and became nothing more than a gravel dirt track, snaking between acres of overgrown crops of some kind. The cluster of domed houses receded into the distance and we slowed our pace a little.

Breathing heavily and sweating profusely, I turned back to take a look down the track. The zombie pack who’d been in the street shuffled after us but we’d managed to put some distance between us.

Smith stopped jogging and bent over double, trying to regain his breath.

“Jesus, that was a close run thing,” he rasped.

I looked him over and he projected a sorry state in a ripped bathrobe and barefooted, he was sweaty and disheveled. But we were relatively unscathed and I didn’t need to ask him if he’d been bitten when he was stuck on the ladder above the undead mob. We’d made a pact a while back, swearing that if any of us became infected we’d stay where we were and let the others escape, if that scenario was possible.    

“You look like a hobo,” I said.

“Fuck you,” Smith wheezed, before spitting on the ground. He stood upright with a pained expression on his face and glanced back at the village. “Come on, we got to keep moving. Those bastards are going to stay on our tail all the while they can still see us.”

I gazed back towards the houses then across the landscape to our right. “If we cut through those fields we can double back around to the big house.” I pointed to the overgrown crop pastures. “Also, taking that route will keep us out of sight from our undead friends back there.” I nodded to the roadway.   

Smith leaned on my shoulder and picked out small pieces of gravel piercing the skin on his feet.

“I hope this plan of yours works out a little better than the last one, huh?” He slapped me lightly on my cheek as he finished up tending to his bare feet.

“It got us out of there, didn’t it?” I protested, knowing our escape had been leaning more on the side of luck than expert planning. I knew sooner or later one of us was going to come a cropper. We wouldn’t last forever living like this.

We walked at a fast pace, moving off the track and through the long grass at the edge of the crop field.

“I need to find some damn footwear,” Smith moaned as we moved amongst the rows of tall, wilting plantation.

“I told you,” I said, with a hint of satisfaction. My own footwear weren’t exactly the best for hiking around rough terrain but the deck shoes were better than nothing.

“Yeah, yeah,” Smith muttered. “Always the wise ass.”

I smiled, ducking under the large dry leaves. The soil underfoot was dry and cracked and I had no idea what type of crops we were walking through. They stood around eight feet high but looked as though they were dying and obviously hadn’t been tended to in a long time. The plants rustled as we moved our way through them and crumpled dead flowers and dry seeds dropped to the parched ground.

Sweat dripped from my face and my mouth was dry. The sun beat down relentlessly.

“You think we’re going to find a way out of here?” I asked. “Tell me the truth now, Smith.”

Smith kind of shrugged. “Who knows how this little situation is going to play out. We either do or we don’t, it’s as simple as that.”

Smith’s logic. Black and white. We do or we don’t. Priceless.

Chapter Twenty-Four

We kept moving in a large semi circle to try and get nearer to the big house’s compound when we eventually managed to navigate our way out of the crop fields. I heard things rattling through the thick plant stems and scurrying around the near ground. I thought about venomous snakes and other poisonous creatures, all ready to pounce from the undergrowth or leap from above and bite worse than any zombie. The almost comforting factor of being bitten by a venomous snake or spider would mean an immediate death sentence. A zombie bite would mean a long drawn out demise, only to return as one of the living dead.

I tried to keep focused on the task ahead, instead of letting my mind wander and allowing the bad thoughts to invade. The familiar pangs of hunger churned around my stomach as we trudged through the field but I’d kind of grown used to being hungry during our life on the run. In the past, we’d gone for days without food and several times been on the brink of exhaustion and starvation. Life nowadays was as though we were on a permanent survival course, living on nothing but adrenalin, fresh air and just enough sustenance to get by.