Necroville Read online

  'Follow me if you want to live,' he stressed. Ridiculously, he was still in character. The words slurred from his mouth in an awkward compromise between an American and an Austrian accent. He didn't manage to master either.

  Up ahead, a small village, not much more substantial than a hamlet, hugged a country lane. In all, there were six buildings: an old public house; a barn; four Elizabethan houses. They were all in darkness. No signs of life. Theo arrived in front of the tavern. The sign above the door read, 'The Sanctuary'.

  'Are you sure this is owned by Necroville?' I asked. 'It looks like a real village.'

  Theo removed his sunglasses for the first time, as if he hadn't noticed that it was the middle of the night.

  'The Sanctuary,' he read. 'Sounds like a safe haven to me. What real bar is ever called The Sanctuary?'

  'Okay...' I raised my hands defensively.

  Theo tried the front door. It swung open and he grinned at me in an I-told-you-so sort of way, reapplying his shades. We entered first, just to ensure that the building wasn't crawling with zombies or tripwires or whatever surprises Amanda might have had Zedd install. There was nothing, so I turned on some dim wall-lamps. Cathy joined us inside and slumped in an armchair next to an extinguished, open fire. I glanced back and noticed Charlie staring into the void.

  'What's wrong?' I asked.

  'Think I'd better lay off the weed for a while, bro,' he commented. 'Thought I just saw a man fall off a roof then get back up and walk into the forest. I'll have to have a word with my dealer when I get back. You okay, Cath?'

  'Just tired, I'll live. Knowing my luck, I'll have to get a tetanus after this!'

  She was sitting at an angle, her head lolling. Beads of sweat had bubbled to the surface of her skin. I inspected her wound. The bite had barely broken through, but the tissue around the nicks looked horribly inflamed.

  Charlie paced the room. 'I swear, Cathy. If one more person tries to touch you like that, I'm going to break his–'

  Brrrriiiiiiiiiiing! Brrrrrriiiiiiiiing!

  We all jumped. Hung on the wall next to the bar, a corded phone was ringing. We all stared at each other, stunned. After waiting for it to ring five times, I inched up next to it and grabbed the receiver.

  'Hello?'

  'Mavis? Where's Mavis? She hurt?' It was a man's voice. He sounded concerned. My face brightened.

  'Oh, I see what you're doing. "Mavis"... right? This concerned neighbour act is very good an' all, but...' I glanced up at a dusty old CCTV camera, guessing that that's how they must have known we had arrived at The Sanctuary, 'one of our group was attacked tonight by an extra you've employed. Now, I don't know exactly what he was thinking – I guess he must have just got a divorce or something – but that doesn't matter. One of your customers is injured. Now, if you could either pass me on to Amanda or send out someone to bandage her–'

  'What the hell are you talking about, mate? Mavis is my aunt. She's eighty-six! She owns a pub called The Sanctuary in Bleakmoor. Have I got the wrong number?' The man sounded desperate.

  'Honestly, you don't need to keep up this act. We're in – wait, did you just say "Bleakmoor"?'

  'Yeah. Has Mavis fallen down the stairs or something? I haven't heard from her in two days. I would drive down, but I live two hundred miles away.'

  A clattering on the stairs behind the bar caused everyone in the room to flinch. Theo shot up from his perch on a bar stool, watching as a set of gnarled, pale fingers curled around the doorframe. A cadaverous old woman stumbled into view. She was hunched over and it looked as though she had broken her arm. Blood flowed like syrup from a gash on her shoulder. Her eyes were bloodshot and crazed.

  Theo fired a foam bullet which got lodged in her snowy perm. He had no idea why she didn't fall. Only I could hear the guy on the phone.

  'No!' I yelled. 'Theo, hold up. We're not in Necroville. We're in Bleakmoor, the village next door.'

  'What? Then how do you explain her?' he demanded, pinning the octogenarian back with the muzzle of his blaster. Her papery skin tore as she tried to scramble out of the hold. Open wounds seeped onto her clothes and the rancid smell of rotten flesh and sewage gargled from deep within her body. The gas left her mouth in disgusting belches. 'Ugh, gross!'

  'Mavis is fine,' I lied to the guy on the phone. 'I'm, err... gonna have to get back to you.'

  'But, wait! I haven't even given you my nu–' I would have hung up right there and then, but something beat me to it. There was no dial tone. The line went dead. An electricity fault, perhaps?

  'Wait right there,' I instructed the others.

  Stealing a pair of mini binoculars from Theo's costume, I ascended the staircase two steps at a time and discovered a quaint flat above the tavern. There was nobody else there. It appeared that Mavis lived alone. Black bile and vomit laced the carpet in almost every room. Throwing open one of the windows to let in some fresh air, I examined the treeline through Theo's binoculars.

  Several old oaks decorated the roadside. I could see now that they sported unsightly spots of luminous paint. In the street below, a handful of the ashen people that, for my own sanity, I convinced myself were actors, wandered aimlessly in the hinterland. As I closed the window again, my mind processed the information, unable to reach a conclusion that made sense.

  'Looks like the guy on the phone was telling the truth,' I declared as I walked back down the stairs, not even sure I understood what that meant for us.

  What I found when I turned into the lounge was very different from the scene I had left behind.

  'Oh my God! What happened?'

  'She almost got me!' Theo protested. 'I couldn't help it. It was an accident.' He caught himself, realising that he had fallen out of character. 'Civilian casualties are inevitable in a war.'

  'Quit with the soldier crap, bro!' Charlie yelled. 'This is serious.'

  Mavis was lying on the carpet in the centre of the room. One of her legs was twisted at such an angle that her outline resembled a Nazi swastika. If I didn't look at her head – which was thrashing angrily, eyes wide, tongue writhing like a serpent – it would appear that her crumpled body was dead.

  'What's going on? This doesn't make any sense.' Charlie again. He patted his boiler suit feverishly. 'Oh, God! And now I've lost my weed. I must have dropped it when we ran through the forest. Gotta go find it. I'll be right back.'

  'No!' I blocked his escape.

  'What do you mean, "no"? I told you, I lose my head if I don't smoke when I get stressed.'

  'I don't know how to tell you this,' I said. 'But we're crossed the border into Bleakmoor. I think...' I paused, not sure how crazy I was willing to sound, positive that the hidden cameras would show up any moment. 'I think a real zombie outbreak might have happened here at the same time that we were battling a fake one in the woods.'

  'Hahahaha,' Charlie mocked. 'Is that what that guy on the phone told you, bro? And you believed him? Didn't you do a bio-chem degree? Surely you know zombies are impossible, right?'

  Charlie's hands were shaking. He was so close to me that I thought he was going to take a swing just to shut me up. His mind seemed to be torn between the fight and flight instincts I had read about once. Despite his protestations, though, the only person he seemed to be trying to reason with was himself.

  I shrugged. 'Science doesn't claim to know everything,' was the only explanation I could offer.

  Mavis was unable to get up but her insane squirming was enough to keep us pinned to the edges of the room. We gave her a wide birth as we observed her.

  'I'm with the doc on this one,' Theo added, his commitment to his character verging on the absurd at this point. 'Full-scale zombie infestation is imminent.'

  'Who's the doc?' I asked, and then I realised he meant me. 'Oh – does anyone have their phone? I left mine in the car.' I glanced around, but everyone responded with blank expressions.

  'We agreed to leave them behind beforehand, remember?'
Charlie said. 'Mia's rule. This was supposed to be a bonding experience.'

  'Ah, well plan B it is then,' I groaned. 'I think our best move is to get back to the visitors' centre ASAP. There, we can hand in our guns and overalls and get outta here. I don't care if this is just some publicity stunt or whatever. Real or not, I want out. Theo, your Hummer can get us out without having to worry about our path being blocked, right? When we're far enough away for safety, we can tell the police what we've seen tonight and let them deal with it.'

  'Good plan, doc.'

  'Jesus, Theo!' Charlie exploded. 'You're a bad actor! You're never going to make it, and this really isn't the time to be messing around! Cathy's been bitten by what might actually be a real zombie, we're trapped in the middle of nowhere, none of us have our phones, and on top of all that, I'm seriously freaking out because I've lost my weed! And, don't you dare tell me to calm down, because I'll get one of those pint glasses from behind the bar and shank you!' Pushing both hands through his hair, he ended his red-faced rant with, 'When are you going to get it into your thick skull that you have no talent and no sense of reality, you deluded moron!'

  Theo looked hurt, simply whispering a dejected, 'Sir, yes, sir.'

  I kind of felt bad for the guy. But aside from the way he put it, I had to agree with Charlie.

  'Guys.' The voice was Cathy's. She was still huddled in the armchair.

  'What is it?' Charlie demanded.

  She looked pale and sweaty. Her arms hung limply at her sides and her hair had lost its shine. Yellow had begun to bleed into the whites of her eyes. Her breaths were shallow and fast, like those of a baby rabbit hiding from a hawk.

  'I don't feel well,' she squeaked. And then she lost consciousness.

  'Cathy!' Charlie rushed to her side, gently tapping her face. She was still breathing but it wasn't looking good. 'Oh-God-oh-God-oh-God-oh-God! Why now? I'm gonna have to carry her. We've got to get to the visitors' centre – now!'

  Is she in on the prank? I considered, but instantly rejected the theory when I saw her fidget anxiously in her sleep. Nobody could fake that.

  Theo hauled Cathy's limp body onto Charlie's back, wrapping her arms around his neck. Charlie held her in place, leaning forward slightly so she didn't slip off. I knew from his pained expression that we would have to take turns carrying her to the Hummer if we wanted to make the whole journey without stopping.

  'Leave the Nerfs behind,' I ordered, my hand already resting on the door handle. 'They're useless. Amanda can send Zedd to get them if she wants. Now listen up. I saw a barn on the way in, two buildings down. The door was open. There might be some tools in there we could use to protect ourselves. Obviously, the diversion's a risk, but I think we should check it out before we head back to Necroville. What do you guys reckon?'

  'Yep. Sounds good,' Charlie agreed.

  'It's a plan,' added Theo.

  Mavis's strangled gurgles rose to an agitated howl when she saw us getting ready to leave. I hoped that her racket hadn't alerted the others outside. Pushing a growing sense of foreboding to the back of my mind, I indicated that I was about to wrench open the door. Our plan was for Theo to charge out with his American gung-ho attitude and clear a path. That would allow Charlie to slip by any assailants with Cathy on his back.

  'Ready?' I asked, my voice quivering.

  They both nodded. No going back.

  Three... Two... One...

  I yanked the door open. Theo hurtled out, using a bar stool as a shield with which he planned to plough through any unsuspecting ghouls. Slightly behind, Charlie stopped. He hesitated.

  'Go-go-go!' I screamed, matching Theo's military persona, hoping it would inspire us to copy his bravery.

  Charlie stumbled a little but bounded into the gloom. Then, grabbing another stool, I followed. I only took about three steps into the street then halted. Terror struck me like a meteorite. Despite Theo's best efforts to clear a path, he was struggling, surrounded by a pack of bloodthirsty bodies far stronger than Mavis's decrepit frame. What had been five or six lone wanderers had amassed into a thriving mob of shambling monsters over the past twenty minutes. The waxy corpses of village locals had been joined by Necroville extras. The employees must have been devoured in the woods and reanimated still in their zombie costumes.

  'Argh!'

  I heard the shriek but didn't immediately register it as Charlie's voice. Turning, I noticed that he was frozen, staring back. On the floor, Cathy's eyes shot open, unblinking. The eyeballs inside her sockets were dry. Her actual dimensions hadn't changed, but somehow her skin looked tighter, all grotesque angles and bones, like an emaciated dog. Snarling, she revealed a mouthful of black saliva and rose to her full height. Her hands were clamped on the jambs of the doorframe, stopping us from backpedalling to The Sanctuary.

  'No,' I whispered groggily. The single world had to fight past the lump in my throat to escape. Part of me was still waiting for the TV cameras, the presenter, and the 'hilarious' playback footage. But deep down I knew Cathy was dead and nothing I could do would bring her back.

  It was only then that the notion of a zombie apocalypse felt real – like, actually real.

  Whichever way I considered it, our future held three paths: 1) Give in and wait for the grinding teeth to close in around us, 2) Die trying to fight through the blender of writhing bodies between us and the barn, or 3) pummel Cathy's freshly dead corpse to a pulp and await non-existent rescuers in The Sanctuary. All three options were suicide, but one struck me as a more attractive offer than the others. If I were to commit suicide, I'd want it to be on my terms. So, I made my decision.

  Kill or be killed, I thought.

  My mind became cold. Ruthless. Savage. Finding myself grinning like a lunatic because my brain didn't know how else to react, I raised the bar stool high above my head, sucked air through my teeth, and flew into battle. We weren't playing for fun anymore. The rules had changed and our lives were at stake. It was our turn to make a move.

  PART THREE: EXTREME TACTICS

  As the seat made contact with one zombie's jaw, I raised my boot and Spartan-kicked a second in the chest. Then I skirted back to get Charlie. He was stone still, gazing into Cathy's eyes, as if performing a mental rescue mission deep in the depths of her soul. I assumed that the only reason she wasn't already munching on his skull was that her nervous system hadn't had time to adjust to her new life as a reanimated corpse.

  'Bro, come on! We have to get going. This isn't the time to lose your head.'

  He slapped my arm away when I reached for him.

  'Don't touch me!' he warned. There were tears in his eyes, but he was smiling at Cathy, performing a desperate attempt to bring back her conscious self. 'Come to me, Babe. You recognise me, don't you? It's Charlie, your boyfriend.'

  A trio of ghouls skulked closer but I confronted them easily. They were elderly residents. Their muscles had degraded long before they had joined the ranks of the undead. Body shots didn't take them down quickly enough so I caved in their craniums with the seat. By the fourth blow, I was breathing heavily, spattered with pus and brain matter. Glancing back, I saw Cathy jolt forward, her cracked lips curling back as she grabbed Charlie's throat. Obviously shocked, he was slow to react, and I was too far away to save him.

  'Get down!' I heard. Charlie managed to duck just as Theo's bar stool slammed into Cathy's head. Her face imploded like the crumple zone on a car. Her fingers slackened and she folded into the mud. 'Will, stool me,' Theo demanded without hesitating. There was no way I would argue with him after a stunt like that, so I tossed him my own stool.

  He swung it, devastating a row of corpses like dominoes. The action cleared a path between us and the barn. We had to act fast, though, before it was replenished.

  'Charlie, move. Now!'

  As he whimpered at the sight of Cathy crippled in the doorway, I wrenched him towards the exit.

  'Get off!'

  He swung a punch behind
his head but I dodged and his fist made contact with the nose of an approaching zombie, a short woman in a straw hat. Taken unawares, she overbalanced and fell. I couldn't help but smirk as we bounded away. Watching her slow brain try to save her was hilarious, like a university student, too drunk to fight outside a club.

  'Thanks,' I said, surprised. Charlie just scowled but followed my lead.

  Thundering to the barn, we split up with the efficiency of a SWAT team, scanning the shadows and alcoves to ensure that the area was secure before blocking our exit.

  'Safe?' I called.

  'Safe,' both replied, and I bolted the door.

  That was when Charlie collapsed. Squatting, he buried his face in his hands and screamed. He was trembling. Strolling up to him, I patted his shoulder tentatively, without emotion. My mind had already moved on to planning our next move. Adrenaline has a funny way of numbing all sorts of pain.

  'She's dead.'

  'Yeah,' I admitted.

  'None of you saw my weed on the way over, did you?'

  'Err... we were a little busy saving you.'

  'Spectacular.' His voice wobbled. I had never seen him go for so long without a joint. It was like the smoky veil had been lifted and he was forced to face reality for the first time.

  'Hey, guys! Look what I found.' Theo pushed over a pile of hay bales. The ruddy yellow cuboids split and tumbled across the barn floor, exposing a dusty wall of tools behind them.

  'Woah,' I mumbled. 'Awesome.'

  I swallowed the distance between me and the display to touch the handle of an axe that was mounted onto the wood. Surrounding it were shears, rakes, hammers, saws – practically every gardening implement.

  Weapons.

  'There's more,' said Theo, lifting a pair of hunting rifles. 'Looks like someone had a gun license.'

  'Or has,' I corrected him. 'They might still be alive.'

  He shrugged. 'Either way, they're ours now.'

  Charlie snorted, wiping his nose in his sleeve. 'But we don't. And if we get caught using them we'll be prosecuted for–'