The Left Series (Book 4): Left In The Cold (15 page)

“We’ll have to shut the gate before we get rid of the rest of them,” Cordoba yelled above the moans.

“All right, stick together,” Smith instructed. “Wingate, we’ll advance on the gate, Cordoba and Wilde, watch our rear.”

“Okay,” I mumbled and shuffled closer to Cordoba so we stood side by side.

She handed me the flashlight. “Keep that light steady on them as they close in on us,” she barked
, before leveling her M-16 rifle with her eye line.

I held the flashlight in my left hand and the M-9 handgun in my right. I swept the beam left and right across the gnarled, rotting faces approaching us across the courtyard.

“Keep it on single shot, Cordoba,” Smith warned. “We don’t want to run out of ammo out here.”

I heard Cordoba tut and mutter under her breath. She fired a shot
, hitting a closing male zombie with half his face chewed off, between the eyes. The ghoul’s head rocked back amid a spray of blood and he dropped to the snowy ground. Cordoba adjusted her aim slightly and took out a long haired female zombie with one shot. We shuffled towards Smith and Wingate and stood back to back with the pair of them.

“Okay, let’s try and get to that fucking gate,” Smith growled.

We scuffled forward, Cordoba and I were careful not to lose our footing as we trod backwards through the thick snow. I fired a couple of shots as a bunch of three zombies closed in. Cordoba took out the third ghoul with a shot that pierced the creature’s left eye. Smith cleared a path in front of us, firing his rifle with well aimed single shots while Wingate lit the route with her flashlight.

Luckily, the zombies hadn’t bunched together and were easy enough to pick off in small groups. But my main worry was the lack of spare ammunition. I had one
more full magazine in my jacket pocket and I’d left my ammunition belt back in my bedroom. I wasn’t sure if the others had brought any more full mags down with them. I fully expected Alex, Davie and maybe a few of the others to be out here with us, defending the castle. And why was the gate open anyhow? I was sure Alex had locked it when we’d come through the gateway earlier.

“Are the keys still hanging up?” I asked, turning my head slightly towards Smith behind me.

Wingate shone her flashlight at the wall beside the gate. “They’re not on the hook,” she said, then swung the light beam back at the gate. “The keys are in the lock.”

“That tells us somebody deliberately opened it up,” Smith spat, before taking two more zombies out with headshots.

“We need to get that damn gate closed before all those zombies out there realize its open,” Wingate shrieked. “The gunshots will be attracting them from all around the castle walls.”

“Where the hell is Alex and the others?” I yelled, as I fired another killing round.

“Don’t worry about them, right now, kid,” Smith barked. “Let’s just concentrate on what we’re doing before we start pointing any fingers.”

Wingate fired a couple more shots, clearing the path to the gate. She kicked it closed, the thick wooden slats slamming into a zombie’s face who was attempting to enter the courtyard.
Wingate slid home the bolts at the top and bottom of the gate before turning the key in the lock.

“I think I’ll keep hold of these keys,” she said, sliding the long metal objects into her jacket pocket.
“Just in case somebody tries to open the gate again.”

We fanned out in a line with our backs against the wall, the gate standing between us.
The moans and bangs of dead hands on the opposite side of the gate rang in our ears. I shone the flashlight around the courtyard to assess what we were faced with.

“How many you think are out there?” Cordoba asked.

“I don’t know, twenty, thirty maybe,” I sighed, weary with the latest zombie battle. “They’ll come to us, don’t worry about that.”

They shuffled towards us from all directions around the courtyard, hissing and groaning with outstretched arms. The flashlights illuminated their snarling, decaying faces, twisted in ugly grimaces.

“Man, I hate fucking zombies,” I muttered.

My stomach churned over as the ghouls closed in on us. I
prayed we had enough ammunition to finish clearing the courtyard of undead.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Wingate shone her flashlight around our right flank and I aimed my light beam across our left. We waited until the zombies staggered to around ten feet away from us until we fired. We couldn’t afford to miss with even one shot.
Zombies dropped to the ground under our gunfire. They relentlessly came forward before they were dispatched with a bullet to the head, falling into an ungainly pile of twisted bodies in the snow.

“I’m out,” Smith barked, as his M-16 clicked with an empty magazine. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and removed his handgun from his holster.

“I’ve got two rounds left,” Cordoba said. “And I didn’t bring my sidearm. I didn’t think we’d be using this much firepower.”

I fired my last shot before reloading my spare magazine.

“We should have enough ammo to finish the rest of them off,” Smith said.

“We can’t even get back inside the castle once we’re done here,” I wailed. “
Mrs McMahon locked the conservatory door behind us.” I was tired and cold and wanted to get back into that soft bed.

“Oh, we’ll get back inside, don’t worry about that,” Smith growled.
“Even if we have to break in, they won’t keep us out.”

“How many more
of those things are out there?” Cordoba whispered.

Wingate and I shone our flashlights around the courtyard like searchlights. Around a dozen undead still occupied the area, staggering through the darkness a few yards away.

“Let’s get this over and done with,” I sighed. “Then we can find a way back inside.”

The last wave of zombies came for us in one swarm, tripping over the bodies of their fallen counterparts as they approached. Cordoba fired her last two rounds before she turned her rifle around in her hands so she could use the butt as a club if she needed to.

“I’m out of ammo,” Wingate cried, as her M-9 clicked empty. “I didn’t bring a spare mag either.”

Only Smith and I had some rounds remaining and there were still around six zombies left to get rid of. I hadn’t been counting my shots but guessed I had around five rounds left. Smith must have had more so between us, we should have enough ammunition to dispatch the rest of the closing ghouls.

“Just don’t miss with your last few rounds,” Smith shouted.

We fired in alternate sequence, dropping the last half dozen ghouls with three shots each. The four of us stood still for a few seconds, sweeping the courtyard with the flashlights to ensure no more zombies lurked in the dark corners.
The stench of rotten blood, decaying flesh and cordite hung in the crisp night air.

“Right, now that’s over, let’s find out what the hell is going on,” Smith growled. He marched over to the conservatory door and rapped hard on the glass panel with the barrel of his M-9.

We followed Smith to the conservatory. I kept glancing around, shining the flashlight beam into the dark recesses of the courtyard. The moans and screeches of the undead were still audible from outside the outer wall.

“Open up,” Smith barked. “Come on, let us in. We’re freezing our asses off out here.”

The conservatory interior was dark and there was no sign of Mrs McMahon or anybody else inside. The whole place seemed deserted.

“You don’t think they all went out through that gate?” I asked. “Why was it left open?”

“No idea,” Smith rumbled, rattling the conservatory door handle. He banged the window with his fist. “Come on, open up or I will be forced to shoot the windows out,” he yelled.

We saw the silhouette of somebody walking through the conservatory a few moments later.
I peered in through the window and recognized Batfish approaching the double doors. She unlocked the door and opened it up then stuck her head out of the door, a look of shock and confusion was etched on her face.

“What’s going on? I heard gunshots,” she said.

“A little disturbance,” Smith sighed, brushing by Batfish to enter the conservatory.

“Oh my god, zombies were in the castle grounds?” Batfish gasped, staring at the pile of corpses in the courtyard.

“Yeah, some genius decided to open the side gate,” I sighed. “Now, I desperately need to grab some shut-eye before I collapse.”

Batfish stood back from the conservatory doorway to let the three of us inside. Smith already stood in the conservatory, smoking a cigarette.
Batfish shut the door and locked up again after we’d entered. My hands were so cold I could barely feel my finger tips. I made the M-9 safe and replaced it in my jacket then rubbed my hands together, trying to regenerate some feeling.

“Let’s get to that fireplace,” Wingate whined while shivering.

“I want to find out who opened the gate and why Mrs McMahon locked us out and why Alex and his pals didn’t come and help us out,” Smith growled. “They have a lot of questions to answer.”

“Ah, let’s get in the warm first before we start interrogating people,” Wingate groaned, turning from the doorway. We followed her through the conservatory.

“How come you were out there in the first place?” Batfish asked.

“
Mrs McMahon raised the alarm,” I explained. “She came up to the tower and told us some zombies were in the compound.”

“I didn’t hear
nothing,” Batfish said. “I was spark out asleep. I only woke up when I heard gunfire outside.”

“Did you see anybody else on your way down here?” Smith asked.

“No, nobody.” Batfish shook her head.

“Would
Mrs McMahon have opened the gate?” Cordoba asked.

“Why would she do that?” Batfish said.

“I have no clue,” Smith sighed. “But some jerk is playing games with us.”

We found ourselves back in the Great Hall a few minutes later. The fire was dying down but the embers still glowed red and kicked out a warming heat. We stood in front of the fireplace with our hands held out to the glowing logs.

“Hey, where’s Gera?” Cordoba asked.

“I thought he’d be with you guys,” Batfish said. “I haven’t seen him since we turned in for the night.”

“He’s probably slept through all of this little late night party,” I sighed. “I certainly wish I had.”

“Maybe
Mrs McMahon couldn’t raise any of the others,” Wingate surmised. “They were all pretty drunk by the time we went to bed. Maybe they didn’t wake up.”

“It still doesn’t explain who opened that gate,” Smith said. “The damn thing didn’t just open by itself.
I mean, it was held in place by two heavy bolts and a big assed key lock, for Christ’s sake.”

“Can’t we just leave the Spanish Inquisition for the morning,” Wingate sighed. “I really need to get some rest. I’ve had enough for one day.”

Smith rumbled something under his breath but I had to agree with Wingate on this one. I was dead beat and wanted my bed. We decided to sleep on the situation and take no more action at such a late hour.

“Make sure you all lock your bedroom doors,” Smith warned, as we shuffled up the staircase. “Something stinks around here and I don’t mean those dead zombies
, neither.”

Smith griped all the way through the corridors and up the staircase. I was glad to return to my room and lock the door behind me. I reloaded my M-9 and replaced it on the bedside table before peeling off my clothes once more. I noticed Smith had left his whisky bottle on the shelf above the sink so I took a long swig to warm myself up a bit more.

The bed was cold again and it took me a few minutes to warm the sheets and duvet through. I left the candle lit and closed my eyes, feeling my body close down for the night. If there were any more emergencies during the night, they’d have to cope without me, I decided. I wasn’t leaving that bed until daybreak for anything.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I woke with a start when I was aware of somebody moving around my room in the semi darkness. Dawn still hadn’t broken but it felt as though I was in the depths of the small hours. I reached for my weapon on the bedside table and waved the barrel around, pointing at the room’s dark corners.

“Who’s there?” I hissed. “Show yourself or I’ll fucking shoot you, I swear.”

“You won’t shoot an unarmed man, will you?” came the reply from the darkness. “Especially your old pal.”