Hellspawn Odyssey (12 page)

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Kurt screamed in surprise within the confines of the tunnel and it echoed back to him, fainter each time. The zombie clutched at his arm, pulling him forward and trying to bite. He could hear the mouth snapping shut in the absolute blackness of the mine and held out his protected forearm, buying himself time to think. The teeth scraped the metal surface of his copper arm guard and Kurt pushed hard, forcing the zombie back to the wall. Slamming with his arm again and again he heard the crunch of pulverising skull and all strength left the animated corpse in an instant. A sudden rumble brought with it fresh shaking and Kurt stumbled, falling to the hard ground. The torch would probably have another bulb ensconced within, but he had no time to search the floor with his hands to retrieve it. He withdrew the small lighter he had pocketed when they left the farm house and prayed the falls and knocks hadn’t broken it too. Striking the flint, it lit the tunnel and he could see another fallen horror struggling to rise, it was horribly chewed and torn from the waist up. The gas didn’t ignite, so he rolled the flint again, and again, over and over. The monstrosity was caught in the strobe effect, like an old TV puppet show that required changing the pose each time, it stood and turned.

“Work, damn you!” he ranted at the lighter, fingering the adjuster on the side and striking once more. The gas burst forth, released finally, and rose brightly from the nozzle. His hand was shaking so badly that he blew the first attempt out, plunging him into darkness again with a line marked indelibly on his eyeball from the flame.

Kurt switched hands and reached into his belt, igniting the flame and raising the small hand axe. The zombie advanced with mouth gaping and he was horrified to see the tongue had been chewed out, only a ragged stump flapped in the back of the orifice. He took a calming breath, waited until the monster got within range, and struck downwards, embedding the blade through the front of the face and wedging in the top of the chest. He wrenched it free and the bloodied mess fell.

“Where are you?” Kurt asked the madly dancing shadows as he twisted around, trying to find the torch. It was tucked into a small niche and he pulled it free, putting it between his legs as a clamp and twisting the top off. It had a spare bulb, somewhere, just not in the torch. The small spring holder was empty and looking through the thin glass he could see the incandescent element had been burned out, it was not the new type LED torches. He decided against throwing it away for now, they may be able to secure a replacement in a hardware shop. The barking crack of the shotgun bounced down the cave on the air, helping him with his orientation. If he went right the tunnel would run for approximately two hundred feet as the crow flies.

Stepping slowly, all too aware of the fragility of the flame as the air currents pulled and tugged at it threatening to extinguish his lifeline, he made his way toward the noise. Rounding the bend he saw a figure stretched out on the ground, it was a dead zombie. Looking up he could see the brackish green blood dripping from the hanging stalactite. The flickering lighter banished the shadows and Kurt looked at the face and the split skull, the pierced brain on display. The death was fresh.

“Hah! Way to go rock,” Kurt said, giving a mock high five and pressing his palm to the cold, wet stone. The cadaver must have come blundering down the tunnel and ran its own head through on the pointed tip of the mineral deposit. It was one less for Kurt to fight at least and he moved on, the darkness receding as he neared the tunnel opening. The light improved as he turned the final corner and the bright daylight of the entrance revealed the small group of dead that had stumbled from his tunnel. They were reaching and each gunshot blew another to hell, but it was an awful waste of the ammunition. Kurt crouched low and rushed forward. Breaking into the daylight he heard the screams of joy and fear as he wielded the sharp blade, quickly dispatching the last of the zombies in a frenzy of swipes. He looked up, almost overcome with happiness to see the waiting faces of his loved ones.

“Kurt, look out!” John shouted down and he turned to the right to see thirty or more festering shamblers were nearly upon him, only forty feet away.

“Oh God,” was all Kurt could muster.

**********

“Where the hell is the rope? You were supposed to bring it!” Sarah screamed at Debbie. Why had they relied on her? It was obvious she was not one of them.

“Sorry, I forgot,” she answered nonchalantly, pulling a face that indicated she was anything but sorry.

“You bitch!” Sarah yelled and punched her straight on the chin, laying her out flat on the ground. Debbie’s eyes fluttered in her unconscious state and it was only the shouts of the others that stopped Sarah from dragging her to the edge and feeding the zombies with the poisonous bitch.

“Peter, there!” John shouted as he noticed two dead were getting near while Peter was looking down at Kurt, trying to think. He pulled the levers and swung the cab, brushing the bucket sideways and batting the zombies from the edge to go sailing to the scattered rock at the bottom of the mine. The bodies impacted and splashed in all directions, like a water balloon filled with rotted spinach coloured paint.

“What do we do? We have to help him!” Sarah was going crazy, the rope was too far away now and the clean cut, smooth sides of the cliff would prevent Kurt climbing.

“We can’t destroy that many in time!” Gloria shouted, watching the large group as they closed on Kurt.

“I can try something!” Braiden called, leaning out of his cab.

“Please save him! There are even more now!” Sam pleaded with his brother. More had started to pour from the lower shafts, converging on Kurt from both directions.

Braiden nodded and his engine roared. The dozer lurched forward, breaking lines with the excavator that Peter piloted. He continued and then pulled to the right, aiming for the edge of the cliff, the fifteen foot drop to the lower level and the sheer drop beyond. He opened the cab door, still giving full power to the machine as he readied himself for the jump. He prayed that he would make it. The faint cries of his companions didn’t break through his focus, he watched as the dozer reached the brink of the rock and the ground started to crumble under the weight of the trundling beast. Braiden roared his hatred at the dead and leaped free of the machine, hitting the gravel and rolling clear. The ground was cracking towards him, threatening to drag him down to certain death. He scrambled backwards on his bottom, kicking clouds of dust in his desperate attempts to clear the fracturing ground.

**********

Kurt looked both ways, seeing the dual hordes that would devour him. The cliff edge beckoned. The rush of air and feeling of flight, followed by instant death upon impact would be infinitely preferable to being eaten alive. He looked up at his family, ready to say goodbye, but they were preoccupied by the raging noise coming from further down. The blade of the dozer appeared over the edge above the closest group and it kept coming, the rock face shattered and collapsed, joining the dozer in a massive tumult, crashing down and sweeping the whole road clean and out into the chasm. The roar of the avalanche rung from the canyon walls, the sound of the machine hitting the bottom was like a thunderclap, causing Kurt to cover his ears.

“Watch out!” Sarah shouted down, the danger of the second crowd was growing with each step.

Kurt looked around. The upper road had been broken beyond repair, it would be suicide to try and cross the uneven surface. The loose stone would likely pitch him from the edge in a second rock slide. Stepping away towards the perilous edge, he backed into a metal surface with a gong of steel on skull. He clutched at his head and turned, seeing the lowered bucket of the digger.

“Grab it, quickly!” Peter called and Kurt gripped two of the solid ‘teeth’. Peter sat down, still watching from the cab, and pulled the lever slowly, raising the arm and Kurt with it. The bucket was fully extended when Kurt held on; if he had been closer Peter could have scooped him up like a pile of dirt and pulled him to safety. They weren’t so fortunate, and the wet teeth could still cause him to fall, which was why Peter took it slowly, desperate not to break Kurt’s tentative grip.

“Be careful!” Sarah shouted at Peter, but he didn’t need to be told. Kurt dangled from the arm, his feet swinging in mid-air, only inches from the clawed fingers of the dead who had reached him. Peter’s heartbeat pulsed in his head, drowning all other noise out. He stared at his friend, gaining strength from the look of trust in Kurt’s eyes as he rose, ignoring the cannibals beneath.

Kurt was losing his hold on the teeth. The moisture from the previous disembowelled Hellspawn and his sweaty hands combined to slide his grip free, millimetre by millimetre. The arm started its sideward swing, the edge was so close Kurt could taste it, but he was not going to make it.

“HOLD ME!” John bellowed. He reached out over the void; Sarah held his vest, while Sam held hers, Braiden then took hold of Sam and the human chain stretched as far as possible. With a cry of fear, Kurt swung, his fingers slipping completely and plunging him down toward the waiting horde. John caught the handled collar of the life vest and held on tight, the sudden weight pulled him and he dropped to the ground, hitting his chest on the hard floor. Kurt was trying to find purchase on the cliff edge, wanting to take the strain from his father’s arm which must have been agony. Peter carefully moved the bucket and provided a platform for Kurt to stand on. They paused, John still holding tight, yet able to draw breath now the pressure had been reduced.

“Thanks, Dad,” Kurt said, his heart racing. He held out his hand and cupped his father’s head, caressing the stubbled face, ecstatic to be alive. John smiled down at his only son, proud beyond words of his bravery and selflessness.

“You’re welcome. Now stop messing around and get up here,” John stated.

Peter slowly raised the bucket until Kurt could step onto their level to safety. They all jumped for joy, hugging and crying, the close calls were becoming habit and sooner or later their luck would run out. Debbie stood away from them, alienated once more and rubbing the lump on her chin and the back of her head where it had struck the ground.

“Peter, keep us covered. A quarter of a mile will take us to the boundary. Whose idea was it to come through the mine again?” Kurt questioned.

“You suggested it, silly!” Sam reminded him and Kurt grabbed his son in a headlock, mussing his hair and laughing.

They moved on, the path clear in front but the zombies below were still agitated and gave chase. That was until they reached the damaged section of road that Kurt didn’t dare cross and the remaining stone tumbled away, taking the bodies with it. More splashes coated the bottom of the ravine and the remaining bloated, rotten monstrosities surged forward regardless of the danger, one by one toppling into thin air and dropping to the waiting rocky bottom.

“Dumbasses.” Braiden gave voice to their thoughts, brushing his clothing to get the dust off.

The occasional zombie would cross their path and Peter duly crushed them, protecting the friends who followed closely. Within ten minutes they had reached the emergency entrance and the digger just rolled straight through the gate, tearing it free and throwing it to the ground, the chain link clattering against the tracks.

“Where to now?” Peter climbed down to talk to the group.

“Straight through there.” Kurt pointed at the woodland in front of them. “It takes us to within throwing distance of the Beachwood Pub.”

“We have to leave the digger then,” Peter said with sorrow, the grumbling hulk had saved their lives and now it would be left to rust. He climbed into the cab, turning the key and silencing it forever. “Goodbye old girl, you did us proud.”

They picked their bags up, shouldering the burden again. Weapons were readied for the perilous journey. Staring at the thick tree line, the autumnal chill had stripped the trees bare, deep piles of yellow and brown leaves coated the ground. The wind blew through the skeletal branches, which resembled waving fingers, beckoning them to enter.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” Sarah shivered.

“It’s either this, the Lavant road,” Kurt looked at John and the involuntary shudder was enough to put them all off, “Or the Motorway.” No one needed to be reminded about the miles of stationary cars and the occupants who haunted the open spaces between.

“Let’s go, I want a pint before bedtime,” John urged and they moved off cautiously.

The trees provided cover from the wind, breaking the chilled breeze before it could reach them. The ground was a kaleidoscope of colour from the shed foliage. Browns, yellows, and greens provided a crisp blanket for their passage. The noise of the crushed leaves was matched by the swaying branches, masking their progress for any awful entity that may be listening.

“Keep close, pass each tree slowly. They may be hidden,” John whispered, his breath pluming in the cold day.

Honey explored, disappearing for minutes at a time as she scented the local wildlife. The piled leaves were a constant fascination to her and she leaped and frolicked, scattering them every which way. Sam and Braiden smiled, before rushing forward, kicking at the huge mounds while laughing. Sarah and Kurt watched their children, glad for the brief moment of high spirits amongst the horror that was their existence. Honey’s demeanour changed instantly, her playful exuberance was replaced by snarling. She bared her teeth at the boys, who stopped and tried to calm her.

“Sorry, girl, we only wanted to join in.” Sam held his hand out and had to snatch it back, barely missing the chomping jaw of their yellow pet. She started to bark furiously, spittle flying from her cheeks.

“Sam, get away from her!” Kurt shouted, wincing at the barks that could be drawing unspeakable danger toward them.

“Kurt, we have to quieten her, she will get us killed,” John hissed, raising his cleaver, meaning permanently silence.

“No!” Braiden yelled, getting between them, “You won’t hurt her!” He raised his screwdriver, making it clear he would defend the dog, despite the danger.

“Get out of the way, lad. This has to be done. I was worried she would create a scene at the wrong time. Thank God she did it when we were in the middle of a forest, and not in a town,” John said, stepping forward menacingly, ignoring Braiden who had moved between them yet again.

Gloria was torn; she knew what the animal meant to them all, what she had done to save them and bring them together. The change she had wrought in Paige was remarkable. But the fact remained that this sudden change in nature meant they were at risk from both the dog, and whatever she alerted to their presence. Carefully moving to the side, she raised the gun, aiming at the crazed animal, curling her finger over the trigger. Braiden was focused on the standoff with John, neither willing to back down, which gave her the opportunity she needed. Closing one eye, she sighted the pet and took a breath. The large deposit of leaves behind her moved, stirred, and fell from the two forms that had stood up in the middle. They wore thermal clothing, possibly in an attempt to survive the cold, but hunger or dehydration had done what the weather could not. There were only the first faint signs of decay, small pustules on the white skin and darkened veins from the dead blood.

“Oh my God!” Gloria said while training the gun on the new threat as the two zombies kicked their own way through the leaves, imitating the actions of the youngsters.

Honey whirled, snarling and barking. The din created a diversion and the dead reached for the nimble animal, but she danced out of the way.

“Don’t shoot!” Braiden told the teacher, motioning for her to lower the gun. Silently, he stepped up behind the corpses as they followed their four legged feast. Stabbing upwards, taking each zombie in the base of the skull where it met the spine, the screwdriver penetrated into their brains. They dropped to the ground, becoming one with the dead leaves.

“Good girl, you are such a brave girl,” Braiden cooed, kneeling and stroking Honey’s head. She was silent now, satisfied to receive the attention and fussing.

“She was only protecting us. We would have stood right on them if she hadn’t barked,” Sam stated. They waited, listening to the sound of Honey’s tail disturbing the dry leaves.

“We were lucky. She could have brought hundreds down on us,” John grumbled.

Braiden stood, eyes narrowing. Stepping forwards, he still had the dripping shank of the screwdriver by his side. “Don’t you go near her again. Ever,” he growled menacingly.

“Are you threatening me, boy?” John asked, meeting the gaze.

“Damn right I am,” Braiden replied.

“Stop it, both of you!” Paige cried, getting between them. Sam pulled Braiden back, and Kurt did the same with his father.

“Braiden, calm down,” Kurt told him. “Dad was right to do something, you know that. We couldn’t know that she was protecting us. Now we do, ok?” Kurt looked at him and Braiden looked away, nodding his agreement, although not happy.

“He’d better not try anything like that again, I won’t be so understanding next time,” John muttered and Braiden reared up again at the threat, marching forward.

“Dad, shut your mouth!” Kurt pushed his father away and stopped Braiden in his tracks with a look. “You won’t do anything! We are all in this together. She is a part of our family, she has bled for us.”

“She’s a bloody animal,” John grumbled.

“And we are only alive because of her, remember that!” Kurt hissed, tiring of the attitude that his father displayed towards the heroic hound. “Don’t forget who told me to stop and think, before acting rashly. What were you about to do to her?” Kurt pointed at the grinning furball.

“She still put us in danger,” John finished, knowing Kurt was right, though too proud to say.

“Happy family,” Debbie chuckled with derision.

“Let’s see how happy you are when you are left behind.” Kurt rounded on her and the smile died, to be replaced by the usual scowl. “Yeah, thought so.”

“Peter, you won’t let them leave me, will you?” Debbie asked, looking for support where there was none. Her bridges had been burned.

“You did this to yourself,” he replied quietly, going to Paige, who was also petting Honey.

“Fuck you, you snivelling weasel. I don’t know what I ever saw in you,” she blustered, furious.

“Well, now you don’t have to worry about it anymore, do you?” Peter answered back, signalling the true end of their dysfunctional relationship.

“I… I…” she could barely speak, her face reddening. Debbie was getting ready to explode, and to hell with the consequences.

“Shut up!” Kurt whispered and grabbed her from behind, putting his hand over her mouth, cupping the scream that escaped into his palm.

More rustling noises bounced from trunk to trunk in the murky woods, making it difficult to pinpoint the cause. Honey was still, sniffing and pricking her ears to locate the source. It could be the renewed grasp of the wind, disturbing the trees and causing the last of summer to fall from the branches to nourish the soil. Honey growled. It wasn’t wind.

“Move, this way!” Kurt ducked and made his way east, toward the bridge that led to the Beachwood Pub.

They ran, careful to step where the foliage was thinnest, wary of twigs and their echoing snaps. Between fleeting glances of the forest floor, they caught sight of figures in pursuit. The dead were aware of the new flesh and wanted a taste, blundering around in their haste to reach the family. A rotting male stepped out from behind a tree, directly in Kurt’s path. It reached out and was knocked to the ground, Kurt landing on top with a sickly eruption of decayed liquid.

“Help him!” gasped Sarah, stifling the scream of shock she nearly unleashed.

Kurt didn’t need any assistance. He clutched the throat of the zombie, pinning it to the ground, ignoring the gelatinous feel of the peeling skin. He raised the hammer and punched a neat hole directly into the forehead, a bubbling green mixture spilling from the crater.

“Are you ok?” John whispered, helping him to his feet.

“Yeah, let’s go, we are nearly there.” Kurt was mindful of the crashing from behind, made by the converging dead.

The onset of stronger draughts indicated the end of the woodland; the frigid air was no longer filtered by the thick tree trunks. They took several moments, knowing they were being followed, but fearing the open stretch of road approaching the bridge that crossed the flowing river. It would leave them out in the open, fully exposed for anything else that was watching.

“When will we catch a break?” Peter groaned, looking upon the scene. The bridge was blocked with cars. There was crushed metal and broken glass from one side to the other where people had tried to push through, desperate to escape the horde. The paint had been scratched and furrowed where bones had grasped for the occupants, clawing at the cars. Thick puddles of blood lay on the road, the rain unable to wash them clean. Piles of unidentifiable gore were strewn everywhere, spilled from the dying. They had an unenviable choice, the fast flowing, freezing water of the River Lavant. Or traversing the uneven, wet, zombie infested car crash on the bridge.

“What do we do?” Paige asked with fear in her voice. She could count at least thirty on the bridge, some still in their cars, but able to reach through broken windows.

“Dad, what do you think?” Kurt asked. “The water will be safer, but cold enough to cause hypothermia if we can’t get into fresh, dry clothes quickly.”

“You mean if the pub is overrun, or surrounded?” John looked at Kurt, voicing his fears.

“The bridge will mean we stay warm. We just have to climb over the wreckage, the broken glass, and sharp metal. If we slip we will be cut to ribbons, if we get grabbed we will be eaten. I just don’t know!” Kurt was weighing the options, the zombies from behind were close, visible at all times and not hidden by the trees anymore. Honey chuffed and ran down to the river’s edge, wagging her tail.

“Looks like she has made her mind up. What about you?” Kurt asked the group. No one looked pleased about the choice, but they were out of options. Zombies in the forest, zombies in the wreckage, or the cold water.

“We have life jackets, so we probably won’t drown,” Sam piped up, trying to cheer them up. He failed.

They hurried away from the tree line, rushing around the blood and viscera. They waited on the bank of the river, surrounded by reeds and bushes that thrived on the moist earth. The water passed by, lapping at the bridge supports. It wasn’t too deep which surprised Kurt. Normally at this time of year it would be chest deep. They would likely be submerged to the tops of their thighs, which was still bad and enough to cause loss of feeling and life threatening illness.

“How fast is it moving?” Gloria asked while keeping a wary eye on the dark woods, knowing festering horror would soon break cover.

“Quite fast. We will need to keep hold of one another as we cross. Take it slowly or we will be pulled down,” Kurt warned.

“At least we won’t drown, just freeze to death,” Debbie moaned, pulling the fasteners on her life preserver to make sure they were tight. No one corrected her, for once she was right.

The horde was clear of the trees. Five, then ten, then twenty, more and more came into the daylight.

“We couldn’t have survived against that many,” Kurt said to no one, just thinking out loud. He stepped down, the water parting for his foot and filling the shoe. It bit into him like a thousand shards of glass as his leg sank into the water. Hissing his discomfort, he tried to maintain his composure and waded deeper. In the back of his mind, he knew that if they couldn’t find sanctuary, this would be the end of them. He was young and fairly fit, but the cold was enveloping him, numbing the muscles of his legs. He wasn’t sure he would even be able to walk once they reached the other side. Honey jumped in and paddled for all she was worth, reaching the other side in seconds and shaking off, watching the rest as they prepared for the crossing.

“This won’t work, we will die.” Kurt stepped back to the bank, dripping weeds and icy water. He had been submerged for ten seconds at most and already felt like he was missing the lower extremities.

“Jesus,” he gasped, squatting several times to get the blood flowing. They looked at him expectantly, wondering why the plan had changed. “It’s far colder than I thought. We would be crippled if we even made the other side. We clear our way through the cars, slowly and carefully.”

“We need to be quick!” Gloria stated, watching the group of dead get closer. They had less than a minute.

“They aren’t the problem. As soon as we get a car between us we are safe, I am worried about those,” Kurt pointed, then rubbed at his drenched trousers, trying to massage the unresponsive muscles. The zombies in the crash were conscious of their quarry, although they couldn’t get to them. As soon as they started the dangerous manoeuvre, all bets were off, one slip or errant step would mean death.

“Sam, take that one out for me,” Kurt indicated the closest cadaver, standing in a small enclosure that would safely house them all while they took a short while to plan the route. Sam loaded and aimed, releasing the steel ball with a sharp twang. The zombie’s head whipped back as the bearing ripped through, flinging it against the protective barrier of the bridge, then toppling it into the water below. The splash caused Kurt to shiver in sympathy, regardless of the corpse being twice dead. They watched the body bob down the river for a few seconds, spinning lazily on the surface.

“Good shot. Get over there. I will throw the gear to you,” Kurt told them, teeth chattering in his head like a jackhammer.

“No, you go, your legs are icicles. If you stay, you may not be able to reach us,” Sarah ordered and Kurt started to protest. “Now!” she demanded.