Bone Hunter: A Novelette in the Dark of Dawn Series (3 page)

“Fuuuuuck!”

Coughing.

“What the fuck were you doing here lady?”

Blood curdling gargles purled from within the tram.

Bark!

“Fuck!”

Bark!

“Alright, I fucking heard you!” The man yelled at his pet from out of the corner of his mouth, all the while maintaining eye contact with his victim.

A sudden gust of wind howled past the windows of the tram, giving off the similar sound to that of a banshee wail. Eerily scary given the circumstances.

Blinking, the man continued to stare. “Honestly lady, what the bloody hell were you doing?”

Laying back against a seat the woman spluttered, tried hard to speak but with her life-force draining fast she had no fight left within her. Bright red blood, unlike the tainted color of the blood of the undead trickled down her chin onto her khaki clothing. Vacant eyes stared blankly as they began to glaze over.

Death came and her soul departed.

In a state of shock the man simply stood there for a few moments hunched over the dead woman’s body slowly shaking his head. He tried hard to justify his actions despite knowing full well that he had just killed an innocent survivor. In his mind he passed over the blame, it was easier to deal with the guilt that way and besides, who would stop him anyway.

You stupid woman, why didn’t you just give me a sign? You’d be alive if you had’ve just waved or yelled! That’s all you fucking-well had to do!

Long dark days on the road had seen him struggle around the living. He was not good at addressing the dead either.

Bark!

“What the fuck is it now!” he snapped. The dog lowered its head and gave a slight whimper.

Looking up sharply the man peered out through the windows of the tram to see what had alerted his lookout. Creatures, hundreds of the hideous beasts were shuffling out of time and heading straight towards them.

Moaning!

Bark!

In a panic the man spun around, peering out through the other windows of the tram only to be greeted with the same sight in every direction. Realizing what he had done he crapped himself, the gravity of the situation hitting him like a sledgehammer to the face. The shotgun had sounded an alert awakening the undead from their hibernation and they were now bearing down as fast as they were able to.

Isolated and trapped in the centre of the road the man and his companion were rapidly being hemmed in. Death loomed on all fronts and there was little he could do now to stop their advance, there was simply no escape from the incoming army of the undead.

Racing to the door he pulled it shut in a desperate attempt to keep the creatures at bay, but opening inwards he sighed knowing it would not hold against the force of the creatures once they arrived. Dragging the body of the dead woman down the aisle he tossed her into the stairwell, using her deadweight to prop the door securely shut. She was dead, he had no compassion or feelings for her inert form now whatsoever. A cold but necessary realization.

Taking up position in the middle of the tram he pulled off his backpack and readied himself for the impending conflict. Cursed himself for dropping his guard and getting caught out like this, he was usually so vigilant and so careful. Muttered something about being an idiot under his breath.

Moaning intensified outside as the swarm arrived in numbers hitting the tram hard and rocking it from side to side. Desperate to reach what lay inside boney sickly fingers scratched and clawed at the metal exterior of the boxcar.

At that precise moment the man’s life would change forever. The sound that filled his ears right then was so distinct, he recognized it immediately and it chilled him to the very core of his being. A baby’s cry, soft at first it rapidly escalated into a loud wail. It came from somewhere around him inside, close-by. Raising an eyebrow he peered over the seat in front of him to see a tiny bundle of rags, wriggling and writhing.

Reaching over he unfurled the tiny package to revel an infant, a baby boy dressed in a blue jumpsuit and a woolen jumper. The child was very young only weeks old, frail and weak barely able to breathe let alone cry.

Closing his eyes tightly the man’s heart sank as he realized the enormity of what had happened here today. A pang of guilt swept over him as shame and emotional pain sacked him right there and then. It was all too much causing him to drop to his knees and begin to sob. His mind took him back to memories of his own family and his children, all of whom he had lost when the world turned.

“What the hell am I going to do with you?” he said, addressing the child through blurry eyes as if it was capable of understanding. “I cannot care for you, I cannot do anything for you. Your mother is dead, I killed her, and now there is no-one to look after you. You hear me, no-one!”

Glancing down at the dead woman he could not help but notice that she looked quite emaciated and sick. The man thought she looked like she had been ravaged by an illness or had some sickness or poison in her system. She was simply ghastly looking.

Fucking hell, no wonder I mistook you for a creature!

The baby too looked ill, pale and sickly. Totally reliant on its mother’s milk for nourishment the child’s chances of survival were going to be slim with her now gone.

What the hell happened to you two? How could you possibly feed him woman, looking like that?

Bark!

Jolted back to reality the man rewrapped the baby in its rags, left it to wail on the seat and then refocused his attention on surviving this current onslaught. They were now surrounded, cornered on all fronts with no chance of escape. He checked his ammunition which was minimal for he had not expected to run into such a large swarm as this. What had started out as a pleasant day, welcomed relief from a week-long storm had rapidly descended into a shit-storm of epic proportions.

He thought about running for it but quickly gave that idea away when he saw that the creatures had now gotten five to six deep around the tram. A couple of rows were easy enough to push through, but at this density his momentum would not be enough to carry him through.

Think God-damnit man, think!

Experience had taught him to be prepared no matter what, abiding by the Boy Scout motto he had learned when he was younger. It had stuck with him all his life right through until the world turned, right up to this very point in time.

Reaching inside his backpack he withdrew a medium size steel box, rusted and grey with the word ARMY stamped on it in big bold white lettering. Sliding the lid open the man carefully took out two hand grenades and placed them gently on the seat in front of him, this was the very situation he had kept them for. He knew what he had to do, it was his only hope against the hundreds of creatures swarming toward their position. Now totally surrounding the tram they blocked every possible exit for man, beast and child.

With an almighty bang the first grenade went off some twenty feet from their location, the blast radius inflicting massive damage on every creature unfortunate enough to be caught in the explosion. Rising from his position of cover over the infant child the man tossed the second grenade through the open window, grabbed everything in readiness and waited. The second blast rocked the tram from side to side, shattered glass and caused massive chaos.

Grasping the dead woman by the arm he dragged her body out from the stairwell, flung the door open and made a run for it. Clutching at the bundle of rags which held the baby tight, he hurdled dismembered body parts and piles of red goo, bolting for the open spaces beyond the swarm. The explosions had torn through life and limb, creating just enough of a hole for an escape, but it was a very close call.

As the remaining creatures turned to slowly take up pursuit, the sound of the baby wailing like a Police siren faded fast as it disappeared into the distance.

Later that evening the man sat alone consumed by thought, chewing at the rabbit stew he had just cooked on the gas burner. It had a strong gamey taste to it, tough and stringy. Adding freshly picked rosemary made the meal somewhat bearable, but it was food and he honestly cared little for the flavor.

Washed his dishes in a bucket of rain water then set them aside to drip dry on a table. The room was dark, save for the flickering flame of a solitary candle in the middle of the floor. Staring at the bundle of rags on the sofa the man rubbed his bald head as he pondered his predicament.

Aside from the occasional soft cry the child was rather lethargic and hadn’t stirred for hours. With an extremely swollen stomach and dark patches on its skin, the man was well aware that this infant was malnourished and now in peril. His mother was all skin and bone and no doubt could hardly even raise a drop of milk to provide for her desperately unfortunate child before she died.

With no milk or food of any kind to provide it with sustenance, the man was resigned to the fact that there was little or no hope that the baby would survive the night. There was nothing he could do, nothing at all and that cut him to the bone. He was a strong man both physically and emotionally but this, this bleakest of situations was to test his every resolve.

As he sat in near darkness the man continued to justify killing the child’s mother earlier that day. She had lunged at him from down the aisle of the tram as soon as he had entered, causing him to fire instinctively. Thinking about it now he came to the conclusion that she was merely doing what any mother would do in that situation, desperately trying to keep her child safe and protecting it from every possible threat. Her thin gaunt body was no match for the shotgun pellets that had hit her hard, sending her sprawling backwards killing her instantly. That single shot was ultimately responsible for taking two lives that day.

It was a long and painful night for the man who tossed and turned in his makeshift bed all evening. Despite sticking to his justification for killing the woman the burden of guilt proved too much and sleep eluded him for the most part. In the dead of night he lay there in the uncomfortable silence listening, watching, waiting. Nothing stirred, sadly he knew it would not be long now.

When sleep finally arrived the man slipped into a deep coma-like slumber where he remained until morning broke. A beautiful sunrise dawned rays of warm sunlight pouring through every crack of the boarded up windows of the shelter. He awoke surprisingly refreshed and rejuvenated ready for the rigors of yet another challenging day in the wastelands. It was to be a day that would indeed test him in every way.

The room was deathly quiet and all round him a wretched silence hung heavy. On the sofa the pile of rags lay motionless hinting at the ominous prediction he had made the night before. As much as he knew the outcome he still had to check but found himself struggling to move, feeling as though cement had been poured into his shoes.

Water splashed from the bowl as the dog satisfied its thirst before slowly wandering over to where his master sat expecting a pat. None came, no affection whatsoever. Feeling ignored it promptly returned to its own bed, circled several times and then lay down and closed its eyes.

With a heavy heart the man eventually moved to the sofa to check on the infant, knowing full well what he would find. Dread filled his every footstep. The child had been born into a world where it did not belong, where death was ever present and survival was only for those capable of fending for themselves. It did not stand a chance, not in this inhospitable grim new world.

Kneeling at the foot of the tiny grave the man hammered a makeshift wooden white cross into the turf. With each blow of the mallet an echo resounded loudly through the wastelands… through his head. Keeping his pose he took a moment to say a short prayer, his way of ensuring some semblance of a decent burial and send off to the netherworld.

“Time to go,” he said, rubbing his companion’s ears. Pulling up his skull shaped face mask he sighed, collected his weapons and packs and set off into the deserted streets.

It was slow going that morning, additional backpacks containing all of his belongings and a heavy heart weighing him down considerably. He had decided to move on and relocate to another secure location, the sombre setting that his shelter had become he found to be inhospitable and uninhabitable. He could not bear the thought of sleeping another night amidst the fog of death with its stench burning his nostrils.

Brief encounters with stragglers on the road slowed progress, having to unpack and repack his shoulders with his gear before and after each exchange. He fought with a new found vigor as a steely determination swept through him. Ten inches of serrated steel extinguished life as it was forced down to the hilt in each skull before carving effortlessly through bone. The man met the stare of each creature with wide angry vengeful eyes, watching closely as life drained and spirits dissipated into the ether.

As shadows began to lengthen late in the day the man and his faithful companion began to settle into their new surroundings. The abandoned two-story office building was a suitable alternative, spacious yet secure and relatively safe. It afforded views above both exits front and back as well as allowing free and unimpeded movement between the two floors.

Undertaking a full search he took a mental picture of the floor plans, analyzed the layout and took careful note of the exits in and out of the building. This allowed him to then strategize the best location inside where he would take up residence and set up effective defense strategies. He smiled contently knowing that he had discovered the perfect fortress for him and his companion.

He positioned his sleeping quarters close to the rear of the building under a window that overlooked an awning. This spot would provide him with a suitable escape route if the stairwell was ever breached at the front, allowing an easy getaway into the carpark and beyond into the alleyway. He was one to always meticulously plan even the simplest things for his very survival depended upon it.

Clearing away the clutter in the staff area at the rear he set about rearranging things to his liking, placing his pots pans and gas cooker on the bench. He laid out his rations and then placed his food in cupboards above the sink to protect everything from vermin and insects.

A restless night’s sleep followed which was to be expected given the traumatic events of the past twenty-four hours. The sounds of night were different here and would take some time for him to become accustomed to. The building creaked and groaned as if it were sighing heavily all through the night keeping the man awake for the most part.

Another day, another hunt. The undead could not elude the man who had become an expert tracker and with his companion by his side he could find creatures that lurked in any shadow, any recess or within the dark inside any building. He eradicated each threat quickly and permanently for this was his life’s mission, his eternal quest.