The Dark Horde (20 page)

Brian stormed over to open the trunk at the back of his 4WD patrol. Inside laid an equipment belt with a pair of steel handcuffs, a baton-sized torch and a pump-action shotgun. He took them all.

Shotgun ready, he approached the copse of trees from which the noise came. Incessant rain soaked him, adrenalin flooded him.

The distressed mewing continued. Brian slowed his pace as he reached the trees and peered inside...

Twitching in pools of brown and red were the mutilated remnants of some marsupial animal, its body torn asunder, its head a flattened pulp. And still it made that horrible sound.

Brian raised his shotgun. “I haven’t got time for this shit.”

Twigs snapped in the grass behind him.

He spun around to look across a muddy paddock at a line of gum trees a hundred metres away. He used his torch to scan the area. Trees and scrub waved in the wind and rain, but he could see little else. Satisfied, he turned back to the mewing...

Lightning struck nearby, revealing a host of hairy black figures crouched among the trees Brian had surveyed, their red eyes lighting up the scrub like spot fires.

Brian used the torch to guide his shot at the animal’s head and pulled the trigger in time with the coming thunderclap. The animal’s head disintegrated in an explosion of blood, bone and brain.

Probably shouldn’t have done that... Fuck it.

Brian looked up at Frank’s house, a beacon of calm amid the howling storm.

He ran his torch over the abandoned Torana. Unlocked, its rubbish-filled interior revealed little of interest. Stepping through mud, he approached the house.

Hmm, maybe I should try the radio again.

Brian returned to his car and picked up the handpiece hanging from the dashboard.

Still only static.

Rain continued to lash him as the wind screamed in his ear. Then he realised the wind was also coming from the radio...

Calling his name.

Shotgun firmly in hand, he started again for Frank’s house.

Under cover of wind, rain and darkness, something followed.

He strode across the wooden porch, passing a saturated green couch, to the front door. He rapped on the door with the brass knocker and stepped back.

Only the raging storm answered. He shrugged and tried the door knob...

The door swung open to reveal a short grimy hallway adorned by posters of rock bands, cars and girls. It led to a cluttered lounge on his left and around a corner to the right. There was a filthy stench he could not identify, and yet somehow, it was familiar.

Carefully, Brian stepped inside the building and leaned around the doorway leading into the lounge with shotgun raised.

No one.

Beer bottles, food wrappers, dirty plates, videos and porno mags lay strewn about the lounge: a scene of bachelor excess. Exits the other side of the room were a doorway into the kitchen, where the familiar stench was strongest, and a door to the backyard.

He stepped past the refuse of the lounge to look in the kitchen...

And into the red demonic eyes of a huge wolf-like beast. It stood hunched against the middle of the kitchen ceiling, arms ending in savage claws outstretched as if to greet him.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Really,” Brian answered as he fired both barrels of his twelve-gauge shotgun point-blank into the creature’s chest.

The blast knocked the monster backwards as the pellet spray shredded its flesh. Its ribcage shattered with the force, ripping the vital organs within. Screaming in agony, it crumpled to the ground but managed to keep its eyes defiantly fixed on Brian.

“You cannot kill what is already dead.”

Brian laughed, pumped the shotgun to reload it and lifted both barrels to the demon’s face. As the monster lunged, he fired again.

Its head exploded in a spray of purple and grey, painting the walls and floor the other side of Brian. The beast fell still.

“Your face is already dead!”

Think I’ll have a cigarette after that effort.

Brian lit up as he admired the carnage stretched before him...

Then footsteps could be heard on the front porch.

Brian reloaded his shotgun and flicked the cigarette he’d only just started into the carcass at his feet. He crept back into the lounge...

Another of the demons was there, lunging for Brian as he emerged from the doorway. It grabbed the barrel of his gun as it fired, taking out a large section of wall and a hanging clock.

Shit, two of the bastards! I’m gunna need more ammo!

The demon loomed over him as it ripped the shotgun from his grasp. Brian launched himself at a nearby window.

Brian hit the window hard enough to break through the flyscreen and glass. Splinters cut his forearm and fell around him as he landed hip-first onto the concrete driveway that ran down the side of the house.

A slavering head emerged through the broken window, roaring.

Ignoring the pain in his arm and side, Brian surged to his feet and down the driveway to the front of the house...

Waiting for Brian was Sergeant Douglas McDougall and his sidekick Constable Robert Harrington. Both had their pistols aimed at his chest.

“Don’t move, Brian!” Douglas ordered.

Brian stopped, raising his hands. He glanced over his shoulder... Nothing followed.

“What the fuck is going on?” Brian said.

“You’re under arrest, Brian, for the murder of Barney and Frank Weston. And if you resist,” Douglas smiled, “we’ll shoot you.”

TUESDAY 7:48
PM

The lyrics of Judas Priest blared from the stereo next to Jason as he wrestled the joystick playing
Double Dragon
on his Commodore 64 computer.

“Cos I’ll fight you under blood-red skies.”

Jason roamed alleyways and sewers, slamming and bashing hundreds of enemies, in his quest to clear the streets and ultimately rescue his woman. A quest made easier using a cheat to give him infinite lives.

Then the phone rang, summoning him back to reality.

Jason left the couch and the game he’d already finished four times to answer the phone.

“Hello?”

He ran a hand over his shaven head. “Aaron! Where the hell have you been?... I went ‘round to your house last night and you weren’t there. I haven’t been able to get onto anyone. It was like you, Bruce and Vino had all disappeared!”

Jason rocked back in surprise. “Well shit, sounds like a story! Um, d’you wanna come over now? I’m not doing anything and the oldies are out somewhere ‘til about ten.”

Jason nodded, “Yeah, cool man. I’ll see you soon then. Just give me, say, ten minutes or so ‘cos I gotta go take a shit.”

Jason laughed, “Yeah mate, a real beauty!”

The doorbell rang.

Jason strode up to the door of the neat four-bedroom home and pulled it open...

Aaron stood there like death. Matted hair fell across a pale unshaven face. Bloodshot eyes stared at Jason from worn sockets.

“Holy shit, Aaron! You look fucked!”

Aaron answered grimly, “I am.”

“Well, come in and sit down. Tell me what’s happened.”

Jason began to lead Aaron down the hall towards the lounge before pausing at the doorway to the kitchen.

He turned to Aaron, who was following him like a shadow. “D’you wanna drink?”

“Naaah, it’s alright.”

Jason shrugged and turned back for the lounge.

They sat on leather couches either side of a coffee table occupied by Jason’s computer.

Jason squinted at Aaron. “Your eyes look fucked!”

“They are,” Aaron replied, prodding an eyelid...

His eyeball popped out of its bloody socket to hang down the side of his face.

Jason leapt back on the couch. “Fucking hell, Aaron!”

Aaron calmly pushed the eyeball back into its socket. “Naaah, it’s alright. It’s just a lazy eye.”

Jason cringed with revulsion. “You’ve gotta be out of your fucking mind, Aaron! You gotta get that treated!”

“Maybe...” Aaron smiled, looking at Jason with his one good eye. “Or maybe I’ll just take yours!”

Aaron dived at Jason. Jason kicked his leg up to catch Aaron with his foot as he sailed towards him. Aaron’s arms stretched out, fingers seeking Jason’s eyes.

This can’t really be happening, can it?

Struggling to hold Aaron off, Jason saw a thick purple scar around Aaron’s neck... Splitting to leak a viscous purple fluid.

Jason was speechless with horror as he reached for a vase behind him.

“GIMME YOUR FUCKIN’ EYES, CUNT!” Aaron screamed as his ‘lazy eye’ slipped out again to dangle freely.

Jason grabbed the vase and brought it down on Aaron’s head with smashing force, drenching him and the room. Oozing hot purple fluids, Aaron collapsed onto Jason, pinning him against the couch.

Jason squirmed free of the horrid embrace, leaving Aaron’s still body on the couch. Hyperventilating, he wiped his trembling hands on his shirt and stepped back... Speechless.

Aaron’s head lolled around to face him. “Haha, tricked ya!” He slowly rose from the couch, smiling.

Jason looked around for something to use as he backed towards the hall. “What the fuck’s wrong with you, Aaron?”

“I just want your eyes!”

Aaron launched himself at Jason with outstretched arms. His face connected with Jason’s fist in mid-flight. Aaron crashed sideways into the wall, impacted heavily and slid down to the carpet, leaving a purplish smear.

Before Aaron got up again, Jason ran into the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife he could find. He ran back into the hall to see Aaron standing with one hand on the wall for support, his head resting gruesomely on one shoulder, the exposed sinews of his neck leaking down his chest in spurts... Still he smiled and began advancing towards Jason.

“Back the fuck off, Aaron!” Jason reinforced the point with the blade he brandished.

“Or what?” Aaron gargled through bubbles of blood. “You’ll kill me?” He stepped closer.

Holding Aaron at bay with his knife, Jason back-stepped to the front door.

Aaron stopped to watch Jason leaving. “It doesn’t matter anyway, you’re all fucked.”

“What do you mean all? Do you mean the others too? Are they dead?”

“Nup. None of them are. Just fucked. Like you will be soon.”

Jason opened the front door and stepped outside. He slammed the door behind him and dashed to his car...

He only realised once he’d started his silver Valiant Charger and floored it out of the driveway that he’d left his wallet behind.

Too late.

Not thinking where, he sped off, reaching the town’s outskirts before thought and a cold sweat began to seep into his consciousness. His mind a menagerie of panic and pain, he pulled over on a deserted roadside, unable to control himself and the car any longer...

And began to cry.

TUESDAY 8:56
PM

Sergeant Douglas McDougall put down his steaming cup of coffee and looked up from a desk strewn with newspapers and reports. Constable Robert Harrington stood at the doorway to the office, wringing his hands nervously.

Douglas frowned. “Another?”

“Yeah, this one says he was attacked at home by a friend of his that’s returned from the dead. His name is Jason Lloyd and he says the attacker is still in the house where his parents are due to arrive soon. He’s waiting in reception now. What should we do?”

Douglas rose. “They’ve certainly been busy.” He sighed. “Well, arrest him for the murder of his friend and put him in one of the holding cells. We’ll deal with him later. Right now, we’ve got Brian to interrogate.” He grimaced.

Robert nodded and turned to leave.

“And Rob,” Douglas called.

Robert looked back at Douglas. “Yes?”

“I suggest you’re gunna need to sedate him. Inject him with enough thiopental to put him out ‘til morning.”

Douglas entered a small, windowless and sound-proofed room containing two armless chairs either side of a lacquered table. Brian sat in handcuffs facing the door, staring at Douglas.

Douglas shut the door behind him and drew a deep breath. Sitting down, he looked at Brian with a smirk and folded his arms. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”