Death Plague Omnibus [Four Zombie Novels] (19 page)

Epilogue

Dennis walked his fingers down the side of his distorted body until he reached the first blister. He ran his forefinger over the dome, marveling at how smooth his skin was. He jerked his head to one side until the bones cracked back into place, then twisted the top of his body. He just had to see. Where was the fun of popping it, if he couldn’t watch?

The blister had the same diameter of a ten pence piece, and judging from the tight skin, it would probably burst all by itself. Dennis guessed the only reason why that one as well as the others hadn’t burst was because he was so old.

He straightened his forefinger and jabbed it down, grinning at the sight of the thick, yellow-streaked blood that burst through the torn skin and ran down the side of his broken body. It reminded him of strawberry jam mixed with custard.

Should he be surprised that there had been no pain when his finger punctured the tight skin? He sighed. Like he’d be able to feel something as minor as a burst blister, considering the state of the rest of his broken body.

There was another blister further down, at the top of his thigh. It hadn’t been there long, and Dennis guessed that it would increase in size, just like the one he had just broken open. That was fine by him. It would take at least another hour of maneuvering before he’d be able to get to that one.

He’d loosened his neck muscles just enough for him to watch his fingers push through that taught skin. Perhaps it was time to take a look at his only route out of here. Dennis felt the neck bones shift as he pulled his head back. As before, there was no pain, only the weird sensation of hard things moving about beneath his blanket of flesh. It reminded him of the last time he’d had his teeth pulled. The six thick metal bars covering the storm drain were only a few feet from his head. Right now, thanks to the very undignified tumble that had shattered his thin body, those few feet might as well be a few miles.

Dennis shrugged, happy that at least the bones in his neck and shoulders were still intact. From what he’d so far observed, his body was trying to fix itself. It should take just a few more hours. Dennis would regain the strength to enable him to get out of here; he’d just have to be patient. That was fine by him; he had nothing else planned.

He endured the strange sensation of his bones shifting one more time; he had to examine the rest of his body. The damage was pretty bad. Just below his left knees his splintered bones poked up through the flesh. His other leg looked as though a car had run over it. “I should be dead.”

Dennis allowed a smirk to play over his lips for a moment before his thoughts returned to the events which had occurred just after opening his eyes. Both his mind and his body had both competed to drop him into a deep pit of agonizing pain. Dennis had shrieked out, feeling as though every cell in his body had been dropped into molten metal. The smirk fell off his face as the memory of his slow journey returned with a vengeance.

Those bastards had left his Ethel where she fell just a few metres from where he had woken up. It took more resolve than he thought he possessed to drag his dying body over to his wife. Dennis had no other option. Those bastards weren’t going to win; he intended to die for nobody.

With the last of his strength, Dennis pushed his forefinger into the side of his wife’s eye socket, and watched her eyeball pop out and roll down her cheek. He ripped the dried orb from the cord and squeezed it in his hand before rubbing the stinking mess into the stab wound.

He knew that his mission to stay moving was far from over. The stench of burning gasoline had reached his nostrils, and the sound of boot steps increased with every moment. It wouldn’t be long before the soldiers and their flamethrowers reached this street. Dennis had managed to crawl, then fall into this storm drain with only seconds to spare. Some of that inflammable material had found its way down the drain, but he was too far gone to feel the stuff burning into his flesh.

The morning sun had already started to banish the night’s shadows. The smell of burning flesh still lingered, but he detected no human voices close by. Dennis knew that there were a few soldiers not too far from his location, though; he could feel their thoughts. One of them was getting ready to sleep; he believed that the danger was over. The soldier started to close his eyes, confident that their weapons had put down the last threat.

“Oh, this new ability will be most useful,” Dennis muttered. Now he knew why the dead feared the competitors. They really were the pinnacle hunters. He flexed his hands. Already the strength had flowed back into them. Dennis pressed his thumb hard against one of the bricks. His digit felt no resistance as he pushed it in all the way up to the knuckle. It felt like chalk to him.

If this was some indication as to what the rest of his body would be like once the repairs were complete, then he’d be invincible. Those soldiers would be in for a bit of a shock very soon.

Those dumb bastards had no idea that some of the dead things had already gotten past their stupid quarantine, stumbling into the residential areas past Breakspear. In fact, the outbreak had already begun to infect those living beyond the estate. He grinned to himself and closed his eyes, settling back to allow his new body to mend, knowing that when he did get out of here, Dennis would be emerging into a whole new world of delight.

The End?

So, what happens next?

In the next episode, we’ll move a couple of miles away from the Breakspear housing estate. As you have probably guessed, the soldiers were unable to contain the infection. I’ll be introducing a new set of characters in
Walking with Zombies
. Don’t worry though, we will find out what happens to Ernest and his pals, just not in the next book.

Thank you for reading The Unwashed Dead, and I hope you enjoyed my story. It would mean a lot to me if you could spare just a few moments of your precious time to leave a review. Even if it’s just a few shorts words, it doesn’t matter.

***

Do you want more?

Okay, here are the first two chapters from Walking with Zombies.

Chapter One

Talbot Field decided there and then that his wife had gone too far with this prank. She would be waking up in the morning in a great deal of pain. He crushed the empty cardboard tube in his ham-sized fist before he launched the crunched-up tube towards the bathroom door.

“Just how many times do I have to tell you about this, you stupid little woman?” he muttered through gritted teeth. “That’s it, there’s going to be no more warnings, Christine. This time I really am going to mess up your pretty little face.” After he’d worked on her body first, but that was a given, anyway.

It hadn’t occurred to Talbot that he would have saved himself a whole load of annoyance, stress, and inconvenience if he had just pulled the light cord upon entering the bathroom. He would have seen straightaway that his bone-idle wife had forgotten to replace the toilet paper.

Talbot blindly felt along the tiled shelf to make doubly sure that he hadn’t missed the new toilet roll in his previous search. He then kicked his feet around the lino. The only item of interest he found was a pair of his wife’s underwear tucked behind the bottom of the sink. Talbot picked them up and took a tentative sniff. They were clean; well, nearly clean. He’d bought these ones for the ungrateful bitch just a few days ago. The soft silky material gave it away. It wasn’t often he bought her presents. It wasn’t often that he actually liked the woman, but he’d seen them in the shop window and knew that he just had to see her wearing them.

Christine hated the color red, but Talbot could care less about her silly feelings. As he watched the assistant wrap them complete with a stupid bow around the package, he knew the bitch would desperately try to keep her face fixed in surprised smile mode when she opened the packaging. She would wear them despite her private revulsion. Talbot wanted to see her filling them. She’d wear them or face the consequences.

He’d forgotten all about his gift to her. She certainly hadn’t worn them for his pleasure. Talbot turned them over and gave them another sniff. This time the subtle odor of cream cleanser wafted into his nostrils. Oh, the defiant bitch, she’d been using them to clean the fucking bathroom.

“You are so going to pay for this,” he muttered.

He took a deep breath, imagining the look of her shit-eating grin falling from her face when he presented the evidence. Talbot then had an epiphany.

“A shit-eating grin might be the best lesson.”

Talbot chuckled to himself. He liked the idea. He decided not to punch the bitch after all; he’d make her eat these knickers instead after he’d wiped his arse on them first. The punishment would fit the crime.

It was about time he showed her where her place was again. Even after twelve years of marriage, the stupid cow still had the occasional lapse. He shook his head. Some people never learned.

He used the underwear to clean himself, and then carefully folded it up before placing the package next to his feet. Talbot was a little disappointed that he would have to wait for a few hours before he could play his little game. She wasn’t home from work yet, not that being a waitress in some swanky restaurant was a proper job, mind, but it was the best she could do with her limited intelligence.

Talbot was due to go out in a few minutes too. He had an appointment with a certain young man who had fallen behind on the re-payments for his lovely car. He smiled, knowing that at least one person tonight would be kissing his fists.

He pulled up his trousers and hid the package at the bottom of the bathroom bin. He doubted that she’d empty it between the time she arrived home and the time he got back himself. The dirty, lazy bitch never cleaned the house properly anymore.

His balls tightened, and he felt the beginnings of an erection at the thought of doing some serious face reshaping on the cocky little bastard who thought that he could piss in the face of Talbot’s employer. Speaking of which, he pulled the light cord so he could read the time on his watch; he didn’t want to be late.

Talbot laughed aloud when he saw the full roll of toilet paper that had fallen in the sink.

Christine hadn’t been as slack as he’d initially thought. He turned the handle and padded into the hallway. He still intended to stuff those knickers into her mouth as punishment for using them as a cleaning rag. The bitch needed to learn respect. That underwear had cost him the price of three pints.

Before he went down the stairs, he paused at his eldest son’s bedroom door. He’d caught Brendan smoking earlier this evening. The stupid boy thought that he wouldn’t be able to smell the smoke if he leaned out of the window. The lad was a moron, just like his mother. He often wondered if the boy was actually his.

Just as he had promised, he’d forced the lad into the dog cage. Talbot put his ear to the door. There was no sound coming from the other side, which was a little odd; Brendan hated the cage. The last time Talbot had put him in there, he had howled for nearly twenty minutes. He couldn’t hear anything, not even quiet sobbing.

His internal warning system kicked into action. Something was wrong. He grabbed the handle, pushed open the door, and then flicked the switch. The naked bulb bathed the room in harsh white light. He saw his first born son on all fours, and still in the cage just under the window. Talbot immediately noticed the other, smaller cage lying in front of Brendan.

“What the fucking hell have you done?” Talbot shouted.

The occupant of the smaller cage was in Brendan’s left hand. His son slowly looked at his father, and an emotion that Talbot hadn’t felt for many years made an unwelcome appearance: it was fear. The only thing he saw in his son’s eyes was his own reflection.

The terror that he was so used to seeing was gone. The boy dropped the bloodied remains of his pet hamster and opened his mouth in a snarl. Talbot turned away, unable to look at those blood-stained teeth; his son began to moan, and pawed at the cage door.

The key to the padlock was in Talbot’s top pocket, and for the moment it would stay there too. He closed the bedroom door and hurried downstairs. He hadn’t a clue what had happened to Brendan, nor did he really care. The boy had obviously taken something; it looked to Talbot that smoking was only the start of it. He was just glad he’d caught it when he had; if the little bastard was taking drugs then being locked in a cage was the best thing for him.

Fuck knows where the boy’s mind was, probably orbiting the next planet in the solar system, whichever one that was. He grabbed a red marker pen off the windowsill at the foot of the stairs and left Christine a short note on the whiteboard that he’d fastened to the wall next to the coat hooks. He ordered the bitch not to disturb Brendan. Talbot knew that she’d leave that door well alone, especially after the last time.

Three weeks ago he’d left a note of a similar nature before he left for work, but before he did, he’d sellotaped a single hair across Brendan’s door and the frame. It didn’t surprise him to find that the hair had been snapped in half upon his return. It did surprise his wife when he confronted her with the evidence. He’d never forget that stupid look upon her dozy face just before he used her back and chest as a punch bag. Talbot felt his loins stirring again. He opened the front door and stepped out into the cool night air; after he destroyed the lad’s face he might have to pay a visit to his boss’s place on the other side of town, the Stockholm Club. He always felt the urge to fuck someone after he’d fucked someone up.