Death Plague Omnibus [Four Zombie Novels] (18 page)

Chapter Eighteen

Kevin lifted his head up and looked at Stephanie. “I think we should go back to that house.”

“What the hell for? We already checked the place for weapons before we left.”

“Steph, I was thinking about that soldier. He wore body armor. One of us could wear that. If it’s bulletproof, it’s got to be bite-proof as well.”

Ernest spun around and hurried over to the kid. “Wait a minute, what did you just say?”

“Oh, we captured a soldier, a bit back and …”

“No, not that. You said armor, didn’t you?!”

Kevin nodded.

Ernest started to chuckle. “Oh bloody hell. It looks like I get the dumb bastard medal award tonight. How could I have been so fucking stupid?” He patted the side of the truck. “It’s staring us all right in the face.” He ran over to the driver’s window, peered through the glass and whooped with joy when he saw the keys were still in the ignition. He pulled open the door and wrinkled his nose at the sour smell that wafted out of the cab. “Okay kids, I want you to get into the back. Let’s get this over and done with.”

Stephanie grinned herself and tapped the side of the truck with her knuckles. “It’s a fucking armored truck. This baby is bound to be bulletproof. Hell, I bet it’s even missile-proof as well!”

He watched the boy grab Stephanie’s hand, and then pull the girl over to the open doors. They both groaned. Ernest sighed; he’d forgotten about the mess. Still, a bit of blood wouldn’t do them any harm as long as neither of them got any of it in their mouth. He climbed into the cab and started the engine, hoping those two in the back had secured themselves. He had the feeling that this was going to be a very bumpy ride.

Three soldiers turned into the street. He guessed that they must have heard the van start up. All of them raced towards the van, waving their arms in the air. He gunned the engine, then pressed down on the accelerator, and headed straight for them. He shook his head, unable to grasp their stupidity. The sensible course of action would have been to just open fire; he doubted that even the toughened glass would be able to withstand a concentrated barrage of gunfire.

“This is for killing a sweet old lady,” he said through gritted teeth.

Two of the soldiers weren’t agile enough to get out of the way, and the van clipped them as he drove past. Ernest missed the remaining soldier despite swerving towards him; still, two out of three was a good result.

Ernest drove towards the fence, hoping that the surviving soldier would do the wrong thing and go check on his comrades. He also hoped that they had turned into deadies just as he bent down to check on them.

Half a dozen suited figures scattered like bowling pins as the van ploughed through the wire fence. He heard a few bullets ping off the bodywork and prayed that the soldiers didn’t have anything larger in their arsenal, like a tank.

“Holy fuck!” he gasped when the old church came into view. Despite all the mind-numbing terror he’d been through tonight, it still didn’t prepare him for the inhuman carnage and butchery a few metres in front of the van. It was a slaughter of biblical proportions. He saw dozens of separate groups of the vile things scattered around the churchyard, systematically ripping up human bodies and chewing on their flesh.

Not everyone had succumbed to the dead horde. He saw a few survivors clinging on to high walls; a few had even managed to climb onto the remains of the roof. Ernest wanted to close his eyes so he didn’t have to look at them. He watched two of them stand up, and one had even begun to wave. It would have been so much easier if there had been no survivors. Those poor bastards must have thought he was the cavalry, and that Ernest Belmont was going to rescue them.

There was just no feasible way to help them; either the deadies or the soldiers or both would swarm over them as soon as he stopped the van.

“Mavis Watson would have tried to help them,” he muttered.

Mavis was dead though. She’d lost her life in the mistaken belief that everybody was a good person deep down inside. Ernest knew that he was a good person deep down too, but he was also a realist.

He recognised that waving man. He used to come into the mini-market nearly every day for the Daily Mirror and a pack of Golden Virginia. He’d always stop for a few minutes to pass the time of day with Ernest. He raced pigeons.

Suddenly someone behind him opened up with something a little more powerful than a rifle. The noise was deafening; it sounded like hail hitting glass. He didn’t know just how much more punishment the van could take. He headed down the grass slope towards what was left of the cobbled road that ran alongside the church. He heard the girl in the back scream and felt something slam into the back of the partition. Had they hit her? He daren’t shout out, so instead he prayed and tried to get a little more speed out of the vehicle. Two of the dead stepped out in front of the van, and he felt one go under the wheels. He tore his eyes off the road for one second to look around, and saw that some of the groups had gotten to their feet and were making their way towards the cemetery; it was almost as if they all knew where he was going.

Ernest looked into his remaining wing mirror and almost wept with relief when he saw the soldiers weren’t pursuing them. They had their hands full now as their gunfire had attracted the interest of a large crowd of the dead.

His wing mirror broke off when he smashed through what was left of the cemetery gates; the mausoleum was now in sight. In two minutes they’d be there and on their way out of this nightmare. Ernest stopped the van and banged on the partition. He looked through the side window and saw a large number of the things heading towards the now-stationary vehicle. He picked up the bolt cutters, still wishing that he had his pool cue, and leaped out of the van.

The other two joined him; they were both covered in blood.

“Oh, my fucking God!” gasped the girl. “Just look at the state of me.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening her eyes. “It’s okay, Ernest, it isn’t our blood.”

Kevin passed him a metal baseball bat.

“I found it in the back.” said Kevin.

Ernest nodded and gratefully accepted it. The weight felt good. He strode forward and stepped over a fallen gravestone. There were eight of the shambling dead standing between them and their goal. He dropped the hammer, threw the bolt-cutters towards the mausoleum, and he wished he had an extra pair of hands. A dead youth with long black hair and wearing an Iron Maiden t-shirt lumbered over. He swung the bat back, fought off the insane urge to shout ‘Fore!’ and smacked the end into the youth’s temple.

“Where’s Darren’s body gone?” cried Kevin.

Steph shook her head. “He dropped further into the cemetery.”

The boy’s voice rose in fear, “Bollocks, it was here, I know it was,” he said, pointing to the ground. “You can even see the depression and the blood splats.”

Ernest took his eyes off them when he felt another one coming towards him. An old woman dressed in a night shirt began to moan. She took a couple of steps forward and tripped over the fallen boy. Ernest slammed the bat into the back of her head, yelling in grim satisfaction when he heard her skull crack. He glanced behind him and watched Kevin fire his shotgun point blank at a dead copper’s head.

“Come on!” screamed the girl. “Oh, my God, look at that!”

Ernest turned, his jaw dropping when he saw them; they were all coming towards them now. He turned back and dodged the snapping jaws of a young woman.

“Get that gate open,” shouted Stephanie. “I’ll deal with the rest.” He waited till he saw her raise the pistol, and then ran over to where the bolt-cutters had landed.

He scooped them up and darted over to the gates. The chain had already been snapped off. He spun around as the panting pair joined him. He pointed to the chain on the floor.

“I didn’t do that,” he said.

Kevin shook his head. “What the hell? It was locked, I swear it.”

The girl pulled the gate open and looked inside. “Come on,” she said, “it’s not like we have a choice, do we?”

Chapter Nineteen

He ran the tips of his fingers across the smooth white stone, feeling as though he’d just met up with a very old and dear friend. It had been such a long time since he was last down here, at this very spot, back before his guilt got the better of him.

A tumble of pleasant nostalgic memories flooded into his mind. Running his fingers over this stone had turned into a routine—this had become his lucky stone. Ernest used to believe that if he touched this before setting out on a job, not only would he return undetected, he’d also bring back a whole host of goodies ready to sell to his contacts in the markets and to the dodgy guys in the local pubs.

This convenient route ran for over a mile under the houses; it had not only saved him from capture on more than one occasion, it had also helped to make life very comfortable for him and his family.

At this very moment, Ernest would do anything to experience a bit of comfort. He wasn’t sure of the time, but right now, if this shit hadn’t landed on all their head, Ernest would most likely be wrapped up in his warm quilt, watching a bit of football, and perhaps sipping a blended scotch.

Judging from the chaos happening above their heads, he believed that the notion of enjoying a few of life’s little luxuries would soon be passed into memory for everyone. Ernest didn’t think that this fuck up would stay in Breakspear.

He swiveled his head and watched his two remaining companions as they waded their way through the freezing cold, ankle-deep water. The lad didn’t look all that happy. They were too far away for Ernest to catch their words, but he guessed that Kevin must be moaning about the conditions down here.

It was so strange that he could almost see their missing companion, Mavis. Ernest could even hear her reminding Kevin that he should be grateful for still being alive and to stop complaining about the cold water.

How was it that one woman whom he’d only known for a few short hours made him feel so torn? Hell, even the loss he had felt for his wife’s death had begun to fade away. “Jesus, Brenda. I’m so sorry for what happened to you.” He turned away from the approaching kids, not wanting them to see the tears in his eyes. Those tears were from the guilt that had suddenly decided to pay him a visit. Just what sort of marriage had he been living if he’d had carnal thoughts over some strange woman just an hour after he’d seen the rotting shell of his own fucking wife reaching out to him?

Ernest was a complete mess. In his confused state, he didn’t know what to think anymore. One thing that did stand out was that he still believed that woman had thrown her life away for no reason. He clenched his hands tight, wondering how events could have panned out if she hadn’t gone and stupidly thrown her life away.

Maybe he was wrong about this thing spreading past the estate. In a few weeks’ time, all this might just blow over. He and Mrs. Watson could have sat down in the corner of a quiet pub and toasted to absent friends.

“Fuck off, optimism,” he whispered. “Your kind isn’t welcome around here anymore.” Christ, after all the shit he had gone through tonight, why did he still allow his mind to wander off to skip through a land full of rainbow-colored bunnies playing on fluffy clouds? If she hadn’t got herself shot, that silly woman would have found another way to end her life.

“How far do we have to go, Ernest?” asked Kevin. “It’s going on forever. I can’t feel my fucking feet now.” He lifted his leg out of the water and rested it on a ledge, then proceeded to vigorously rub it. “It’s freezing, and it stinks of shit in here.”

“It’s an old sewer; did you expect it to smell of spring flowers?” Ernest tapped the pale stone. “Look, this marks the halfway stage. There’s a ledge set into the wall. It should be large enough to hold us all. We can rest there, just to get our breath back and to warm up, if you like. Although I believe that if we keep going, we’ll be out of here in no time. The exit is only about twenty minutes from here.”

Kevin shook his head and wrapped his arms tight around his body. “Would you mind if we rested, just for a few minutes?” He looked across at Stephanie. “I know that I’ve been moaning for the pair of us, but you must be just as cold as me.” He looked down at the water. “I want to see if my feet are still attached to my legs.”

Ernest’s reply to the boy didn’t have time to leave his mouth when his senses suddenly notched up to red alert. He waded over to his companions and peered over their shoulders, pointing the flashlight into the gloom, trying to see anything moving.

“What is it?” asked Stephanie, turning around. “Ernest, you’re making me very nervous here.”

Kevin moaned softly. “You think those things are in here with us, don’t you!”

He heard the rising panic in the kid’s voice and placed his hand on his shoulder. “It’s probably nothing.” Ernest wasn’t sure what to think. He hadn’t heard anything, but even so, he had never turned his back on his gut feeling before. He was pretty sure there was something back there. He then heard something splash into the water further down the tunnel.

Kevin whimpered.

“Don’t worry, Kevin.” Stephanie grabbed his hand. “It’s probably just a rat. I bet this sewer is infested with them.”

Ernest knew for a fact that the splash hadn’t come from a rat, not unless the fuckers had grown to large dog-size in recent years.

“That was no rat,” replied Kevin. He stared into the darkness before looking back at Ernest. “You don’t think that they’re following us, do you?”

He heard another large splash, this one a lot closer. Ernest’s stomach rolled when something from his past decided to make an unwelcome appearance. He wanted to kick himself for not remembering sooner.

“It isn’t them,” replied Stephanie, “not unless they can squeeze through those bars. I made bloody sure that the chain was secured.”

Ernest looked into their terrified faces, wondering if he looked as scared as they did. “Do any of you remember a hole in the road opening up and a car falling into it?”

They both shook their heads.

“Maybe it was a bit before your time. It happened about fifteen years ago, just behind the Horse and Jockey. You see, the estate was built on what remained of the original town of Breakspear. The contractors were supposed to have leveled what was left of the town and filled in the old sewer system.” He looked up at the curved brick ceiling. “As you can see, they’ve missed this one. Who know what other tunnels they missed? The estate could be riddled with tunnels like this one.”

“Well, that’s just fucking fantastic,” muttered Stephanie.

“Please tell me there’s no other way into this tunnel, Ernest?”

Blood hell, why did he go and have to open his big mouth? Hell, all he had to say that it was a big rat or even a dog. Thanks to him, Kevin looked close to losing it now. “As far as I know, yes, there’s no other way in here. I’ve been up and down this tunnel hundreds of times, and I’ve never seen another way in or out apart from the two entrances. Don’t worry about it. The splash probably came from a dog or something.”

Ernest’s hand tightened round his bat when he heard something else splash into the dark water. This time he knew that it had come from in front of them. He felt the others bunch up behind him.

“That’s not a rat,” whispered the girl. “How many do you think there are?”

Ernest was now sure that they weren’t alone, but their silence confused him. If the dead were down here, why weren’t they making any noise? A shadow moved directly in front of them.

“It’s those fucking soldiers!” yelled Kevin, raising his shotgun and pointing the barrel at the two figures running toward them. “They have us surrounded. I bet they’ve cut the chain as well.”

Stephanie pushed the gun down. “Will you calm it down!” she hissed. “They’re armed as well, you idiot.”

Ernest jumped forward and covered the struggling boy with his body. He had no wish for anybody else to end up dead. It took the last of his resolve to force his own gun to face the water. Despite the bastards cutting down Mrs Watson, he felt that it was the right thing to do to look as harmless as possible.

The lead soldier’s eyes locked in on Ernest; he saw torment and fear in them. These men were soldiers no longer, and Ernest saw just another couple of survivors. He looked behind him one more time before he waded toward the older man and held out his hand.

“I won’t say it’s a pleasure to see you, but at least you’re alive, and a couple more guns are more than welcome. I’m Ernest.”

The man shook Ernest’s hand, he looked at his own pistol, and dropped it in the water. “Jack, Jack Marsham. I’m sorry Ernest, but we’re both empty.” Ernest gazed at the other man who immediately looked to the floor before turning his rifle around and gripping it like a club.

“Do you have a name?” Ernest asked him.

“This is Klinski,” replied Marsham. “I hope your friends have some ammo left, there are two of those things behind us.”

Ernest nodded. “There’s three behind us too.”

Stephanie raised her pistol; she pointed it directly at Marsham. “These fuckers killed Mavis in cold blood, Ernest. Have you forgotten that already?” Kevin pointed his own shotgun at the two men.

“I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about, lass,” said Klinski. “But if you want to shoot us then go ahead. I mean, if we don’t get a move on, we’re dead anyway.” He shook his head and turned around to face the way they’d just come. Ernest could now hear the deadies splashing towards them. They had begun to moan.

“Steph? Come on. Don’t lose your cool.”

“Listen to him, lass,” said Marsham. “Pick your target wisely; I can’t imagine you have many rounds left in your new toy.”

Ernest could see the others approaching from behind them now. Oh, Jesus, there were dozens of them. “Shit! We can’t win this one! Kevin, take out those following the soldiers!”

Kevin looked at Stephanie. She lowered her gun and they splashed over to Klinski.

“Do you know a way out of this bloody maze?” asked Marsham.

Ernest nodded. “Yeah, but what do we do about them?”

He didn’t hear the reply as Kevin and Stephanie fired at the same time at the three wading over. Stephanie released the clip and turned back to Ernest. “I’ve two rounds left.” She gazed at the deadies coming towards them. “Why have we stopped?”

Ernest heard her but didn’t respond, he couldn’t. His attention was fixed upon the approaching crowd of shambling deadies, in particular the one in front. It was his only son, Darren.

“Oh, please, not you too,” Ernest moaned. He took one step forward. He couldn’t leave him like that. It was bad enough that he’d left Brenda, but Ernest would just die if he left Darren like this, too. He hadn’t told the others about his wife, which was one fact that he intended to take to his grave.

“I love you, son,” he whispered.

Ernest then took one look at the baseball bat. If he used this, the other things would tear him to pieces. He looked back at Stephanie, intending to ask for the pistol. They both stood, transfixed, only they weren’t staring at the horde; it was Darren who held their gaze.

“You know him, don’t you?”

They both nodded.

“I thought he was dead,” muttered Kevin.

Ernest heard the venom dripping off the boy’s tongue, and suddenly it all clicked into place. Darren had been their other companion. No bloody wonder that cowardly little shit had been able to stay alive for so long; his son had been helping them out.

“And you two left him to die?”

Stephanie tried to put her hand on his shoulder. He took one step back and lifted the bat. “Don’t you dare touch me,” he growled.

From the corner of his eye, Ernest spotted Marsham moving closer to the girl. She yelped when the man whipped the pistol out of her hand. Before Ernest could react, he found Klinksi’s huge arms wrapped around his waist. The soldier had him pinned.

“You had better lose that emotion right now, feller. You know what needs to be done,” said Klinski.

He shook his head from side to side, watching in horror as Marsham raised the pistol and pointed it at the approaching boy.

“Please, you don't have to do this!” he cried out in torment as a single shot echoed through the tunnel. His only son flew backwards and disappeared below the water.

Klinksi released him, then lunged forward and snatched the shotgun out of Kevin's hands.

Ernest stood there for a moment, stunned; then he looked at Stephanie and Kevin. “I haven’t finished with you two.”

Marsham grabbed his arm and pulled him around. “Settle it later, you heard Klinski. Lose the emotion, or I’ll drop you myself.”

Ernest glared at the two kids as he passed them; he wasn’t going to forget this.