Dead Ahead (18 page)

Brandon’s Dad managed to build up their speed, now that the road was smoother, and shove the truck into neutral, rolling them quietly down the valley in an attempt to escape the ears of the dead; but it only lasted so long before he had to shift back into gear and build up their speed again; the huge engine echoed through the valley, just as his father feared it would, alerting everything of their approach, dead
and
alive.

As they weaved their way down, the river slowly grew wider, but unfortunately the day grew darker at the same time. They had to get into the river, and soon!

____________________________

What in the world had he gotten himself in to?

‘I hope you’re not doing this because of a tidy little piece of fluff nearly half your age?’
Conner’s words rang through Ethan’s head, words only spoken to him the day before. But now here he was, leading a rag tag group of survivors across a barren wilderness, vehicles lost, small chance of survival and seven dead because of it, Conner included.

As he crested the hill Ethan let out a relieved sigh, through the crooked branches of many thin trees ahead he saw the road that he had been looking for; it led to an R.S.P.B site, which was bound to have some kind of shelter for the night, probably not what the civvies would consider comfortable but it would be better than sleeping out in the night air. Their journey had been further and took longer than he had anticipated. Greg was really starting to get on his nerves with his constant complaining about the weight of his pack, it was only slightly heavier than the packs the women were carrying and they hadn’t complained at all; though Ethan was sure he had seen Jim taking more items out of Sarah’s pack and putting it in his own, still, it was no excuse for all of Greg’s whining.

As soon as Greg’s foot hit the tarmac his pack did too, he then turned and sat on it.

“You do know there are grenades in that pack, don’t you?” Ethan said to him, sending him flying into the air and scrambling away from the pack.

“Grenades...? You had me carrying fucking
grenades
...? Well there is no fucking way I am carrying that pack again,
no
fucking way!” Ethan was already starting to regret his words, but fortunately Greg stormed off towards the lake just on the other side of the road after his rant; which in turn sent Sarah following him trying to calm him down.

“I don’t think he really needed to know that, Ethan.” Cassie said through a blocked sounding nose; her pretty blue eyes had completely blackened and swollen up, and her nose was badly bruised, she still managed to look beautiful.

“There aren’t really any grenades in there, Cass, I just wanted him to get up, and we really don’t have time to be resting right now!”

“I know you want to get a push on, Ethan, but people like Greg respond much better to the carrot rather than the stick.”

“The stick is all I have! If we can just get to the end of this road then we can rest, I wouldn’t want to be travelling in to the hills tonight anyway. Can you please ask him to put his pack on and make it to the end of the road?”

“I’ll try.” Cassie said and walked off in the direction of Greg and Sarah who were now at the water’s edge.

“Civvies, eh...?” Jim said once Cassie had made it out of hearing distance “Mind you,
some
Civvies.....” Ethan realised that they were both watching Cassie’s shapely rear end as she walked away, before Ethan could say anything, Jim said “I’m going to check out up the road back there, make sure nothing is going to creep up on us.”

“Ok, Mate, I’ll check the way up ahead; don’t go anywhere I can’t see you though.”

As he walked away, Ethan could feel himself calming down; he had always been happier on his own, people could be a real pain in the arse! He continued to check back over his shoulder on Jim and the others as he made his way by the spindly crooked trees either side of him; It didn’t look as if summer had really taken hold of the trees here, they were mostly bare of leaves with only a slight golden bushing at the tips of the limbs, the lake to his right was flat calm, almost like a millpond, a perfect reflection of the hills and blue sky beyond the far bank shimmered through the branches.

He heard them before he saw them. The sad drone of confusion mixed with desperate hunger was all too familiar to him now; it was only a faint murmur in his ears at first but still it dropped him to his knees and into the grass verge. He crept forward, rifle raised; one eye looking down the scope, the other catching his peripherals. As he rounded the corner he saw them, a dozen or so milling around outside of a large building that had been built on top of a rise in the land on the opposite side of the road to the lake, The Haweswater Hotel was written on a large sign on the cutback stairs built into the huge wall surrounding the hotel; there were makeshift defences on a large slope leading up to the left, made out of cars picnic benches and other outdoor furniture, it seemed to be holding up well against the Second Gens who were bumping and scratching it, making no headway. Ethan could see movement at the top of the wall; there was a man attempting to throw a sofa down the stairs, presumably to stiffen his defences.

Just then another figure came running round the lower side of the wall from the left, Ethan moved his scope back to his eye to see if it was another survivor, unfortunately it wasn’t. The First Gen covered the ground to the stairs all too quickly and leapt up them with an almost unnatural ability, before Ethan could train the scope on it; it was over the wall and on to the man above, both of them dropped down behind the wall and out of sight. Then Ethan heard the unmistakable sound of a chainsaw burring and then the sound shotgun blast echoing through the valley.

He was up and running towards the hotel before he knew what he was doing, he had quite a distance to cover and not a lot of time to do it; his legs started to burn, the hike over the hills had taken more out of them than he thought, all those weeks stuck in that bloody bunker didn’t help either. He dropped to a knee at around a hundred feet from the hotel and tried to steady his breathing to take a shot, the zombies must have heard him coming because they had turned and started their stiff legged march towards him. He dropped one with a shot to the chest, not what he was aiming for but it would do for now, the next two he caught with head shots but he had to move closer for quicker kills.

Ethan broke into a fast jog towards them, rifle raised. As he grew closer he lifted the sight to his eye again and took aim, suddenly the zombies head exploded in his sights; the shot had come from behind him, Jim must have heard the shotgun blast and set up on the corner with his XM24 sniper rifle; Jim loved that rifle, he had got it from the Americans on his last tour of Afghanistan and could shoot a gnats balls off with it. Three more Zombies heads erupted as Ethan made for the steps, he took out a few himself as he worked his way forward but more of them came limping round the corner. Together they picked off the remaining zombies between Ethan and the steps and Ethan made a break for them, leaving Jim to pick off the others coming round the corner.

He loped up the first flight of steps but had to scramble over various objects placed in his path to get up the second, including a sofa. When he got to the top he saw the remains of the First Gen strewn across the stone slabs of the hotel entrance, it had been cut to ribbons, arms and legs splattered across the ground and what Ethan thought must have once been its head splattered in a corner. The man who had been attacked was laid on the floor twitching violently; his thin blue shirt was torn and bloodied, a crimson pool was forming where his right hand used to be and the chainsaw was still purring and spluttering beside him.

The twitching, Ethan had seen it only the night before, just before Nathan had turned into one of them....

The blue shirt leapt to its feet and ran for him, but Ethan was ready. He put one round into its head and it suddenly erupted, showering his face in bone, brains and blood; one shot from his rifle shouldn’t have made its head explode like that. As he wiped the gore from his face he saw the dark skinned young girl in the doorway, with her shotgun pointed right at him.

Chapter

14

Quiet Chaos

She could have only been around sixteen; her unruly shoulder length black hair partially covered one of her eyes, she had on a torn and tattered white shirt and black trousers, and her face was filthy. She held the sawn off shotgun uncomfortably, as someone who was unfamiliar with the weapon would, but it was levelled with Ethan’s face. Her green eyes held pure terror within them though her features showed none of it, she fixed Ethan with a frown.

Ethan raised his hands from his rifle and let the sling take its weight, “I’m not going to turn in to one of them; I’m not bitten.” He said in a soothing manner, showing her his palms.

“That’s what Mrs Phillips from room five said, right before she ate the Stewarts!” Her voice was steady and cold with a slight Irish twang about it; as scared as she was Ethan had no doubts that she would pull the trigger if she felt she had to.

Ethan saw movement in his peripheral, he turned his head slowly to see Jim climbing up the stairs, slowly he moved his hand to stop him in his tracks but he already had the girl in his sights.

“Put down the gun, Lass, he’s no threat to you!” Jim said in firm voice.

If the girl’s eyes were terrified before, they were petrified now. She showed she had fired a gun before but it was evident that she wasn’t used to having one pointed at her, Ethan had to think fast.

“Point your rifle at
me
, Jim!”

“Eh?”

“
At me!
Point your rifle at
me
! If I turn, shoot me...!”

Jim quickly turned his rifle at Ethan, still keeping a close eye on the girl. “Are you bit, did it get you?” he said.

“No, I’m fine, but she doesn’t believe me, so just keep me in your sights just to make sure.

“Now, young lady, if you would be so kind as to lower your weapon, Jim here will put a bullet in my head no problem should I turn in to one of them.” Jim nodded, “But as your hands are a little shaky, I would feel a lot safer if you weren’t pointing your shotgun at me while my heart is still beating.”

Cassie, Sarah and Greg came climbing over the defences at the stairs and the girl visibly relaxed, she lowered the shotgun and slumped to the ground, her thin legs tangling around themselves she sat in a slump. Cassie and Sarah rushed over to her to check that she was ok; they slowly raised her to her feet, whispering inaudible soothing words to her and carried her inside. Ethan relaxed, a little.

“You can put your hands down now,” Jim said with a chuckle, “But I would have a wash if I were you!”

Ethan lowered his hands and ran them over his face, they came back smeared in blood; he just shook his head and followed Greg and Jim through the door, locking it firmly behind them.

_________________________

It was Zoe’s second summer working at the Haweswater Hotel for the Crawley’s; she had visited the hotel a couple of years ago with her parents when she was just fifteen, and had fallen in love with the place, it was so peaceful here. The Crawley’s had offered her the summer job as their son was leaving for college and she had jumped at the chance, anything to get her out of the city and away from her parents for a while; everything was paid for her, room and board, she had no need for the money she earned while she was here so went home with a good wage to see her through the rest of the year. She
did
have to work hard for the money though; the mornings would start at seven, serving breakfasts, then she would move on to the changeovers and vacuuming, by the time that was done they would be serving lunch, after which she would have a couple of hours to herself before dinner at six till nine thirty. Most nights she would take a walk along the reservoir after work just to be alone with nature for a while, just to hear the water birds chirping and the bees buzzing around the pretty flowers along the banks. It really was so beautiful here; not at all like the dirty old city, it reminded her of home, her real home in Larne that is, not Leeds!

Her parents had moved her to Leeds from Larne when she was thirteen; it was more her Father’s decision than her mother’s, Leeds was his home town and Larne was hers, he had been given a job opportunity that apparently they couldn’t refuse, so Leeds it was.

Zoe had hated it from the very first moment; she hated the smell of the place, exhaust fumes filled her nostrils from dawn till dusk and no one smiled, least not like they did in Larne.

She had never really made any friends there either, they seemed to sense her animosity towards their home city and didn’t appreciate it one bit; Zoe couldn’t care less, she was just biding her time till she could escape the horrible place and move back to the country.

But for now this was her refuge from the hustle and bustle of city life, for six sweet weeks of the year she could drink in the serenity of country life; right up to the point where people started to get sick.

It was all over the news, people everywhere were falling ill to the M.L.R. Virus; it all happened so quickly that Zoe didn’t even get the chance to go home to see her parents, her dad had told her to stay where she was because her mother wasn’t well, he had told her through text, the heartless bastard. She couldn’t stay mad at him for long though; only a day or so later he had sent her another message;

I’m sorry sweetheart but

your mother is gone! The virus

has now taken me also! Stay in

the country, please stay safe!

Love you with all our hearts

Mum and Dad X

That was the last she heard from him.

She had so relished being out on her own, but she had now never felt so lonely; her world had been torn apart and left her behind, she so wanted to go home but her father’s wishes prevented her, she was stuck in the hotel with panicking guests in similar situations to herself; there was Mr and Mrs Phillips in room five, the Stewarts in room eight, Mr Peters in room ten and the Dobson family in rooms three and four. The hotel was in quiet chaos, or so she thought, the real chaos started when the news reporters started talking about the Returned, people started rising from the grave in droves. Zoe even saw one of them attack a reporter on the TV.

‘Deadites’, that’s what Mr Crawley called them, ‘the souls of demons possessing the living!’ He had always been a little weird, Mr Crawley, but the Returned really sent him over the edge; he started patrolling the hotel with his shotgun and a chainsaw, everyone thought he had completely lost it, until the returned appeared on their doorstep.

The TV stations had long since stopped broadcasting by this point but the power was still on. As no one was paying to stay, Zoe didn’t see the point in serving anyone any more, she just let the guests get their own meals.

Zoe was up in her room reading when she heard the scream from outside, she rushed to the window to see a Deadite attacking Mr and Mrs Phillips, Mr Crawley was there in a flash, hacking at it with the chainsaw; the thing didn’t stop until he chopped its head off. She rushed down stairs just in time to see Mr Crawley shoot the disembodied head with his shotgun. Zoe went to help Mr Phillips when she saw him getting up covered in blood, only it wasn’t Mr Phillips, his eyes had turned to a milky white and he had the look of pure rage on his face, Zoe was shocked in seeing the kindly old man in this way and it stopped her in her tracks. Mr Phillips grabbed for his wife violently and they both tumbled to the ground in a tangle of tweed and beige; Mr Crawley jumped into the middle, peeled Mr Phillips away and dealt with him in the only manner he knew.

“Did he bite you?” Mr Crawley shouted at the shaken old lady as the others poured out of the hotel.

“N-No, I don’t think so.” she said fearfully, seeing Mr Crawley covered in blood.

“Dear god, Ian! What happened here?” Asked Mrs Crawley as she rushed over to Mrs Phillips

“A Deadite, a Deadite attacked them! Then Mr Phillips turned into one of them, only he wasn’t one of them, he was different, like a zombie!”

“A zombie...? Don’t be so ridiculous, Ian! Here! Someone help me with Mrs Phillips!” The Stewarts quickly came to her aid.

“It’s true Mrs Crawley,” Zoe said, “I saw the whole thing.” Mrs Crawley just gave her an incredulous look, the same look Zoe had seen her give her husband on so many occasions, and walked away.

“What happened to him, Mr Crawley?” Zoe asked.

“It’s the bites, if the Deadites bite you; you become one of their slaves, a mindless zombie.” he reloaded his shotgun, “Whatever you do, Zoe, don’t get bitten!”

They heard a scream from within the hotel and both ran inside, through the lobby and towards room five which had Mrs Crawley stood outside shakily trying to lock the door.

“Mrs Phillips, she-she started to shake, and then she got up...... she’s eating them, eating them, Ian!”

Mr Crawley tenderly took his wife’s hand and drew the keys from her grasp, he handed them to Zoe, “Lock the door behind me and don’t open till I tell you it is safe to do so.”

“You’re not going in there?” Zoe pleaded.

“I will be fine, so long as I don’t get bitten,” he smiled, started up his chainsaw with a roar, and dove through the door. Zoe did as he asked and within a few minutes, and three shot gun blasts later, he shouted for her to open the door.

She opened the door just a crack.

“Give me the gun!” she shouted through the gap; she heard a chuckle from within before the butt end of the shotgun was poked through the gap in the door. She took the gun and backed quickly away from the opening, pointing it at Mr Crawley’s blood soaked figure.

“Be careful with that, it’s loaded!” He then bent down to help his wife up off of the floor, Zoe hadn’t even noticed her slump to the floor to weep. As Mr Crawley carried her away to their room he handed her some more shot gun shells and said, “If you see one; shoot it in the head; that seems to stop them!”

Zoe placed herself on top of the wall overlooking the road leading to the hotel, and waited.

She spent her following day’s nailing tabletops and doors over the downstairs windows and building the barricades surrounding the hotel; but every time they defended themselves from the Deadites, the shotgun blasts echoed over the reservoir and brought more of them to attack their stronghold.

Slowly their numbers were whittled away; after the Phillips’ and the Stewart’s, Mr Dobson was caught by one of the Zombies while protecting his family, then Mr Peters just disappeared one night; all of his things were left behind in his room, he just up and left; three days after that Mrs Crawley got taken by a Deadite, it somehow managed to get on to the roof and smash its way through a skylight, it tore her throat out right in front of Mrs Peters and her two children, Mr Crawley destroyed the it, but he couldn’t kill his wife, he just handed Zoe the shotgun and walked away, she did what she had to do, it wasn’t, after all, Mrs Crawley any more. The next day Zoe found the Peters in their room; Mrs Peters had taken an overdose after she had smothered son and daughter the night before, not even so much as a note was left to explain why, maybe she thought it to be a better death, maybe she just didn’t want to come back.

And so it was just Zoe and Mr Crawley left; the days dragged along, and Mr Crawley slowly changed from being strange to outright murderous, he felt it was now his duty to kill every Deadite that came to the hotel, and would go out of his way to do so. The Zombies weren’t so much of a problem; they didn’t seem able to overcome the defences that Zoe had helped put up around the hotel, so they only had to be disposed of when their numbers grew too large, but that could only be done once the Deadite’s were gone, they were the real problem; they moved fast and made mincemeat out of the defences, they would tear holes in the stairway blockade with no regard for their own safety, just at the thought of sinking their teeth into human flesh.

Mr Crawley would try not to use the shotgun, so he would leave it with Zoe to guard him and the front door while he repaired the stairwell. He was throwing the sofa from the lobby down the stairs when it came for him; he fought so hard to get it off, he managed to get his chainsaw and laid in to it, severing limb after limb, Zoe managed to shoot it in the head but he wouldn’t stop, he just kept on hacking and hacking.

Mr Crawley fell to the floor in some kind of fit.

___________________________

“I had to shoot him, he wasn’t Mr Crawley anymore!” Cassie listened to the poor girl’s heart wrenching story with tears stinging her black and puffy eyes, it made her feel guilty to have spent as long as she did in the safety of the bunker while innocent people were dying and struggling through the hell that this world had become.

“It’s ok, Zoe, we are here now, and tomorrow we will take you with us when we leave.” Sarah said in her tender motherly voice.

“Tomorrow? Oh no, you can’t go out tomorrow!” Zoe shouted, “The noise we made with the guns will bring them tonight and tomorrow, they will be coming, we can’t go out tomorrow!”

“It’s ok, dear. We won’t let anything bad happen to you. Now, why don’t you show me where your room is, you should rest a while.”