Dead Winter: A gripping crime thriller full of suspense (6 page)

"This? It's a kukri, mate. I'm John." exclaimed the leather-clad man with a brief chuckle, noticing our curiosity He slid the kukri behind his belt and his eyes moved towards the gun I was carrying.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours." I stated, having noticed a glint of metal on his waist when he had turned.

"Nice eye, kid." John replied, chuckling once more. He pulled out a revolver from what appeared to be a holster on his waist. At the same time, we switched guns and examined them.

John span the handgun around on his finger for a moment before examining it closely. I glanced down at the revolver in my hand, it had a heavy weight and appeared to hold six rounds.

"Sig Sauer P226, railed." John muttered to himself, turning the handgun over in his hands before offering it back to me. "Standard military handgun, nice find." he added as I handed the revolver back over.

For the first time, I shifted my gun from one hand over to the other, testing its weight before sliding into my pocket. I blinked as John put his hands to his mouth and began muttering to himself.

"Mm.. Ah! Supplies! I knew I'd forgotten something." he exclaimed loudly, holstering his revolver once more. John reached for the handle of his kukri, sliding it out from under his belt to wipe the blade on an old shirt that lay on the table. Afterwards, he seemingly turned the blade on us from across the room.

"I'm on a supply run, guys. And I could do with the extra hands. Will ya help me out?" John said, in a rather sing-song tone of voice.

"And if we don't?" Dave said sternly, clearly intimidated by the blade, regardless of the fact that its owner seemed of no threat to them.

"Well in that case, you can walk right out of here and be on with your lives. I won't stop you!" John replied, shrugging with a worried expression on his face, clearly clueless as to why Dave seemed so agitated. I stepped forwards, deciding to speak for the two of us.

"We'll help, only if we get some of the cut too." I said, Dave nodded in agreement as I turned my head towards him; he'd clearly realised that John meant no harm with the kukri, aside from killing things with it.

"A cut? Boy, I'll give you more than a cut. How about a place to stay as well?" John questioned curiously, seemingly delighted at the prospect of having guests.

"Sounds like a plan." I said, gazing down towards the blade again.

"Alrighty then. We're headed down to the supermarket a few minutes away; watch my back." he stated in a rather loud voice, spinning around on the spot.

Upon opening the back door of the store, a harsh and bitter wind shot into it, chilling my bones to the core. John stepped out across the small, stone alleyway in a couple of strides. The back entrance to the store was fenced off from the rest of the alleyway.

As he motioned towards the gate, John pulled out his revolver; blade in one hand, gun in the other. Removing his finger from the trigger, he raised his hand and signalled us to stop. With a gentle click, the tall wooden gate to the rest of the alleyway beyond swung open to reveal an infected facing away from us

Bits of bloodied skin hung to his hair like dandruff as he silently hammered the ground with his fists.

A quick swish could be heard as our vision was briefly obscured by John's coat as he stepped forwards, bringing his kukri forwards to plant it straight through the man's head as though it were no effort at all. John kicked the infected forward to remove the weapon, where it lay motionless.

Slick.

John almost looked like he'd been doing this all his life. Nearly everything about the way he moved and acted when fighting so far screamed one thing; professionalism. I immediately had the thought that there was either something he wasn't telling us, or he really had the instincts of a killing machine.

All I knew was that I paled in comparison to him.

Again, my thoughts were rudely interrupted by a groan of pain, making me wish I could just stop and think for a second. John had apparently dealt with another one of them during the time it had taken us to turn the corner, leaving a misshapen mess on the floor.

The supermarket loomed into sight, just beyond an area of shrubbery and a hundred metres of car park.

"Alright. Keep it down here, no gunfire. Don't want to draw attention to ourselves." John muttered in a very low tone of voice. "The alleyways are crawling with these bleeders, so I thought we ought to jump the hedges and lay low."

We nodded, walking slowly across the road towards the bushes, weapons in hand after John had given the signal to follow him. The sight of torn clothing caught my eye as I walked past the alleyway, an infected man in his early twenties had staggered into it from the road at the other side.

Frozen in place, I clutched my gun in both hands and stared intently at the man; but he didn't seem to notice me, merely staggering a few feet and falling to the ground, vomiting where he lay. I moved on, pursuing Dave and John across the road, where we climbed onto a car and jumped the hedge.

The silence was cut by a splashing sound as Dave nearly slipped on an icy puddle and stamped his boot down hard, the sound echoed through the street and maniacal mumbling could be heard from behind the hedges.

"Son of a bitch!" Dave mumbled to himself, stamping at the ground again. But there was no time to say anything to him as John broke out in a sprint with his gun raised. As we followed, I glanced over my shoulder and saw at least five infected chasing us; John and Dave ducked down behind a car and I sped up, not wanting to be left behind.

I don't want to die in a car park.

I crouched down low as I approached the car, hiding behind it as John aimed his revolver at a car behind us. With an unexpectedly loud bang, a piercing, shrill alarm cut through the din of the shouting infected, followed by a series of dull thuds as the infected hammered on the car that was making so much noise.

"Okay, around this corner, no accidents this time. We've got 'em distracted." John whispered to the two of us, adding emphasis to the word 'accident'. Dave shot a sarcastic look at him before we went to turn the corner.

Space. That was all I saw as we quickly turned the corner onto the main car park of the supermarket, there was only one car in sight, and no people or their infected counterparts. Taking great strides, we bounded across the expanse of tarmac.

Dave anxiously looked over his shoulder every few seconds and John merely span his revolver around on his finger as he walked. The doors opened with a mechanical whir as we approached them.

What a mess.

There were overturned shopping trolleys and cans of food and drink scattered across the tiled floor, as though the place had already been ransacked. I picked up one of the trolleys and pushed it in front of me as John dashed ahead, checking the aisles beyond for any sign of life.

"Nothing, not a damn soul." John muttered to himself. That was a good thing, I'd rather spare any potential encounters with our deformed peers. A question came to mind.

"Say, John.. Were you following us?" I asked him, still pushing the trolley in front of me as Dave picked up another two.

"No, I just happened upon you when that crazy guy started shouting. Why do you ask?" he replied, looking over his shoulder at me.

"I thought I saw someone watching us on that street, it doesn't matter." I said, glancing down at the floor beneath me before adding. "Say, why DID you kill him?"

"He was turning, I could tell. He must've came into contact with some infected blood or something" John responded, quickly shrugging his shoulders. My mind cast back to the moment when I had cut him, there had been infected blood on my knife.

Did I make him turn?

"Wait, what was that?" John called as coughs echoed through the aisles. I slipped the gun out of my pocket and clutched it in one hand while I approached the aisle the sound was coming from. The shelves were relatively untouched to say the place looked as though it had been looted.

Nearing the end of the aisle, a stench of blood began to waft through the thick air, footprints could be made out on the floor, cast against the white tiling with outlines of deep scarlet.

"Why?..." said a voice, cutting through the monotonous humming of the refrigerators. I raised my eyebrow as I turned the corner, weapon at the ready.

A pitiful sight met my eyes, blood stained across the floor, trailing across the aisles until they stopped at a wall where a teenage girl was slumped.

"How long has it b-been now? A day? I tried my best.." she murmured to herself.

Screeching, the sound of shoes moved across the floor as the girl charged towards us, dashing a few feet before falling face first in the trail of her own blood, she let out a distorted cry for a moment, before rolling over to stare at us.

"Why did this happen?" she said, the scene replaying in my head. One second, she was fine, the next she looked like one of them, then fine again. The bizarre sight triggered feelings of sympathy for the girl, probably only a couple years younger than I was.

She was obviously infected. But not..fully? I pondered over this idea for a few seconds as John crouched down and asked for her name.

"Miranda.." the teenager whimpered, running her hands over a rather nasty gash on her leg. She made a very sudden jerking motion, screaming to the heavens above as she lashed out with her hands. A seconds later, she regained her composure and moved back to the wall where she slumped back against it.

"One of those..things got me about a day ago. I've been like this ever since. I c-can't stop it." she said, struggling with her last words, bursting into tears halfway through. I felt suddenly dizzy, propping myself up against a shelving unit.

John remained in his kneeling position and resumed talking in his calm, collected and deep voice.

"Is there anything we can do to help you?" he asked, raising his eyebrow slightly

This wasn't going to be good.

A sombre grimace swept over the girl's face as she looked up at John, gazing deep into his eyes. She sniffled loudly and wiped the tears from her eyes before speaking.

"There is one thing.. that I'd like, j-just one." she cried.

"Name it, and it shall be done." John replied, almost sounding like a priest delivering confession.

"Please.. Please k-kill me." she whimpered, another stream of tears rolling down her blood-stained cheeks, rolling across her many scrapes and scratches until falling to the floor.

John slowly climbed to his feet, reaching for his revolver. He cast a glance first at Dave, who nodded sadly. And then to me, still leaning against the shelves.

With a slight swishing sound, John removed the gun from its holster and pointed it towards the girl's head.

"Are you really sure this is what you want?" he chimed in a sorrowful tone, his voice still somehow retaining that sing-song feel.

She nodded hesitantly, covering her mouth as she coughed loudly. She obviously wanted to be spared from succumbing to her infected and being damned to roam the streets. I felt extreme pity towards her as my dizziness stopped.

"May the pain you feel be only for a moment more. I hope you are delivered to a better place than this." John said, standing up with his revolver pointed at her head. Dave and I turned away so as to not witness this sombre turn of events.

Eventually, a single gunshot ran loud and clear, echoing slightly in the distance. John walked quietly over to her, resting his hand over her eyes and drawing them shut as his other hand grabbed a blanket from the shelves. With a final swish, he threw it carefully over her.

John, Dave and I walked back down the aisle through which we had came towards the trolleys and the dreaded sound of silence washed over us again as we resumed out previous actions without a word to the other.

Chapter Six

Second Day (22nd December – 7:02AM)

Smoke billowed out through the air in front of me, breaking into characteristic shapes and patterns. Dave and I had been sat on this counter for the last five minutes in an awkward silence, broken just now by my suited friend.

"I'm surprised nobody raided these already." he murmured, pointing to the small pile of cigarette cartons he had thrown into the shopping trolley we were using. John was roaming the aisles further inside the supermarket.

"Say, did he ever tell us who he's getting this stuff for?" I said, as Dave exhaled a large cloud of smoke, sending it flying in little spirals.

"I don't think so, but I guess we'll find out soon enough, eh?" he replied, before taking a rather large puff on a cigarette. Rings of smoke floated a few feet ahead of him, feebly breaking into a mist. "Tch, never got the hang of the ring trick."

As I went to stand up from the counter, I knocked my bag over. Bending back over the counter as I looked for it, my eyes however found something else. As I grabbed my bag, I also pulled out a box of metal bottles.

Lighter fluid, highly flammable.

Smirking to myself, I threw the entire box into the trolley and started pushing it towards the back of the store. Dave drifted behind me with a puzzled look on his face as we passed aisle after aisle.

Stationary, technology, kitchen supplies. Perfect.

I walked down the aisle until I reached the knives. My eyes scanned across the variety of knives until they fell upon a set in particular. Dave curiously looked over my shoulder as I reached out for a large blade; a cleaver. Taking two, I threw them into the shopping trolley before taking a pair of blade sharpeners as well.

"Thinking ahead, eh?" Dave said, glancing at the cleavers in the trolley.

"Indeed, they'll probably be better than my little knife." I responded, my hand wandering down to my pocket where my little butterfly knife resided. "Naturally, one is for you." I added.

As we passed the sports aisle, I decided to grab a metal baseball bat from the display before moving on.

"Wait, so there's one for me and one for you. What about him?" Dave asked, referring to John. The tone of his voice indicated that he didn't fully trust John just yet.

"Well, he's got that massive knife, hasn't he?" I groaned, wishing I had a weapon like that, although I deeply doubted that I would be able to use such a weapon to the same effect that he could. I wondered how he learned to fight as he did. Dave sighed as he remembered the kukri.

John emerged a couple minutes later from the drinks aisle as we waited by the checkouts. His trolley appeared to be packed full of canned foods, snacks, bottled water, caffeinated drinks and a few bottles of Jack.

"Alright, gentlemen. I got everythin' I need. Got any change or do I have to pay for this by card?" John chimed as he passed one of the deserted checkouts.

"Didn't you hear? It's buy one get everything free day!" I retorted, snickering as I flicked a pound coin onto the conveyor belt as we walked back towards the front doors.

"Ah yeah, nice." John sang back at me, before noticing something. "Oh my, that isn't good." he added, noticing a few stragglers in the car park who had obviously been attracted by the gunshot earlier.

After leaving the shopping cart with us, John dashed forwards with kukri in hand. With a swift, fluid motion using his entire body not all that far from resembling a dance, the three infected that had appeared fell to the ground. He had seemingly sliced the muscles in their legs as they rolled and writhed around on the ground, unable to stand back up.

We approached the only vehicle in the car park, it was a decent car, black in colour. It was a 4x4 with metal bars across the front bumper and more than enough room for our supplies. Though as we stared through the passenger seat window, a middle aged man jumped up and began hammering on the window.

The keys were on the dashboard.

The man stared at me with his blood-red eyes as I took a cleaver from my trolley and ripped the packaging off. John nudged me and began to speak.

"What do you think? It's a fair distance from here to where I came from. It'd be a hell of a lot safer driving in that." John asked, blinking for a moment as I nodded. Gripping the cleaver in my hand, I waited for Dave to open the door.

The door swung open and the infected man inside fell out in a rather comedic manner. He slid around on the ground, but I didn't give him enough time to get to his feet, planting the blade of the cleaver into his skull. The man ceased any movement and became nothing more than another corpse.

In the time it had taken me to end a life, John and Dave had already opened up the trunk of the car and were busy filling it with our supplies. The latter had lit a cigarette and was casually puffing on it between throwing supplies, smoke floating above his head.

"So why didn't you drive here in the first place?" I asked John, giving them a hand with the supplies.

"I don't have one. I can drive, but I don't have a car, mate." John responded, unloading a stack of cans into the trunk. His answer was not what I had been expecting.

After a couple more minutes of loading the car, we climbed in. I had taken the front passenger seat, Dave in the back and John behind the wheel, firing up the engine.

And we were off, slowly moving through the car park. I kept an eye out for any infected as we took the nearest exit onto the main road. The engine hummed rather loudly as we passed a totalled car on the side of the road.

As we passed an intersection, I felt a sudden urge to ask John a few questions about himself. I hesitated for a moment before opening my mouth to speak.

"So, John. Tell us a bit about yourself, if you don't mind." I asked, glancing over at him.

"Uh, I'm 29." John replied, swerving to avoid running over a corpse, the car jolted a little bit before moving smoothly once more.

"What did you do before all of this?" I continued, a little frustrated at the vagueness of his response.

"It's kinda complicated, I was a private eye of sorts." answered John, keeping his eyes on the road. I wondered where we were going as we passed the smouldering ruins of my former residence.

"I used to live there.." I mumbled quietly as the car passed by.

"Seriously? How'd you get out of that one?" John asked curiously.

We turned the corner, the ruins of the complex fading out of sight. There were abandoned cars littering the street ahead and John casually maneuvered past them, slowing down the car as he did.

Where were we going?

"Dumb luck. I nearly got myself killed falling from the third floor." I responded in a rather strange tone, running my hand up my head to the bandages wrapped around it.

John chuckled to himself, swerving the car around another corner, I felt myself move slightly in my seat as we turned.

"Speaking of introductions. I haven't actually asked your names yet, have I?" John added, putting his foot down a little more to increase the speed of the car. "Pardon my manners."

"I'm Ethan. And this is Dave." I replied, pointing to myself and then to Dave, who was still sat in the back seat, finishing his cigarette before flicking it out of the window.

"Well it's nice to meet the two of you. As I said before, I'm John. John Walther." John said, turning yet another corner.

As we drove, I began to stare out of the window and remembered just how plain and monochrome this city was as buildings past us by. I countered them off in my head and made little notes of their colours. I began to wonder if we were nearly there.

White, white, grey, white.

We were in a part of town I'd never been now, passing by various stores and office buildings. After about five more minutes, we finally came to a stop outside of a rather large house, three floors high. Strangely enough, this building was composed of red bricks, it gave off a stark contrast to the grey buildings next to it.

"Well, here we are. Home, sweet home." John sighed, pointing to the red-bricked house.

The curtains in the window moved slightly as a face appeared in the window. A couple of minutes later, two people came running out of the front door holding a bunch of carrier bags. We climbed out of the car to meet them.

Several minutes passed as we transferred the supplies from the trunk of the car into the bags and began to haul them into John's house.

The house was tall, red-bricked and grey-roofed. There was a balcony on the second and third floors of the building where a couple of deck chairs could be seen, propped up against the wall.

"Who are these two?" a relatively high-pitched voice called as we locked the car and carried the last few bags into the house. The person talking was a petite teenage girl, carrying one of the supply bags.

"Picked them up on the way to the supermarket, they were in a spot of bother so I helped them out." John replied, shrugging his shoulders slightly as he carried a heavy bag in each hand.

There were no infected in sight on this street, though there were a couple of corpses laying across the pavement on the other side of the street. Abandoned cars were parked in various places along the road.

Sector clear.

We were welcomed into the humble abode, closing the door behind us. There were a series of clicks as a John fumbled with a variety of locks. Walking into the lounge, I immediately noticed that the windows were barricaded with what appeared to be pieces of a wardrobe.

Sitting down on the couch, I looked around and began taking in my surroundings. There was an Australian flag pinned to the wall above the electric fireplace. John proceeded to take his seat in a modern-looking armchair while Dave sat down next to me. There were a total of four chairs in the spacious room.

"Is this your house?" I asked as the young girl offered me a drink. I took it and nodded in gratitude as I waited for a response.

"No, it's a house-share. There's me, my sister Claire over there and Paul." John replied, pointing at the teenager and the man stood in the corner of the room. The young girl waved casually and went on with her business, tending to the bags of food and drink.

Our weapons lay across the coffee table in a neatly arranged manner. There were two cleavers, a butterfly knife, the kukri, a handgun, a revolver and a metal baseball bat.

"So it's just the three of you here?" Dave questioned, as though expecting there to be more residents.

"No, there were two others living here. But they went out to work when all of this started and we haven't seen them since." John said casually "You two'll be sleeping in their rooms."

"Is that alright? What if they come back?" I asked, my tone full of concern.

"I think they're fine, actually. I got a text for Stuart saying they were at some sort of evacuation centre run by the police." Claire added, sipping her cup of coffee.

The police evacuation. Oh dear.

"I don't think they'll be coming back." Dave said in a sombre tone.

"What makes you so sure?" Claire retorted, clearly irritating by Dave's lack of sensitivity.

"We just came from there. It's a mess." I said finally, after a few moments of silent, nervous eye-shifting. "The place was overrun by the time we left."

Claire stuttered for a moment before lowering her head, sighing while staring at the floor.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, glancing around at each other in the dimly lit room. I sipped at my coffee and cast my gaze over to Dave.

Over the next hour or so, we shared small stories of our encounters with the infected. The only one who hadn't had a run in with them was Claire, who had apparently stayed in the house the entire time.

"And then I fell off of the balcony. I woke up an hour later and ran into one of them in the courtyard." I said, detailing my escape from the apartment complex and my first encounter. "I beat him over the head with a pipe and ran for it, that's when I met Dave."

"You're pretty lucky to be alive." Paul said, having finally taken a seat.