The Left Series (Book 4): Left In The Cold (27 page)

“We’ll all stay in Smith’s room tonight,” Batfish said, as we moved out of the washroom. “We can take it in turns to keep watch on the doorway and make sure none of those other fuckers tr
ies to get in. I don’t trust any of them.”

“Sounds good,” I agreed. “But we need to recover those stolen rifles and
ammunition, otherwise we’re going to be outgunned.”

“Let’s just get to our rooms as quick as we can
, for now, Brett,” Batfish sighed.

She obviously wanted some time to mourn and reflect on our situation. Perhaps Cordoba would accompany me in the hunt for our missing weapons later on.

“I’ll take us through the passageways, so we don’t have to walk through the main routes,” Chloe said.

We followed in a line behind her, through dark passageways and up and down cramped
, dingy staircases. Batfish dropped her head and stifled her tears a few times, obviously battling with her emotions. I remained at the rear of the party, glancing around behind us every few steps. I felt sure we were being watched from the dark shadows or maybe my paranoia was increasing by the second.

Chloe led the way by memory. I was amazed at how well she knew the passageways and didn’t need a flashlight to illuminate the route. Batfish and I kept our lights down by our sides, shining the beams at knee height.

The line in front of me ground to a halt and I bumped into Batfish’s back. I heard Chloe audibly gasp and saw her retreat a couple of paces. I shone my flashlight around and reached for my Beretta, keeping my fingers ready on the holster clip. We stood on a balcony a few yards in front of a wide, flowing staircase, cascading down to a desolate, stone walled cafeteria area below.

I shone my light beam directly in front of us, through Chloe, Jimmy and Batfish’s legs and saw another set of female’s fawn colored shoes pointing in our direction, a few feet in front of us.

“Somebody’s there,” Chloe hissed.

I barged to the front of the line and shone the flashlight at whoever faced us along the dark balcony. I recognized the craggy face and wrinkled eyes, blinking against the light beam.

“Joan,” I whispered, lowering the flashlight slightly. “What are you doing creeping around?”

“Who is that with you?” she asked in a whisper. “Is that young Jimmy?”

I heard Jimmy groan behind me. He obviously didn’t want the other castle dwellers to know he was still around.

“Never mind him,” I barked. “Do you know where our guns are and who killed Gera?”

“He’s dead as well?” she gasped. “Someone also killed Trevor. Mo found him stabbed to death in his room, around thirty minutes ago.”

“Fucking Mo took our guns and tried to kill our dog,” I spat.
“We’re going to catch up with him later. Don’t worry about that.”

“They all had a meeting about Trevor and came to the conclusion that one of your party killed him in retribution for your guns going missing,” Joan said.

“What?” Batfish squawked behind me. “One of those murdering bastards cut up my boyfriend.”

I hoped she wasn’t going to tell Joan it was Jimmy who stabbed Trevor. That would only further complicate matters, right now.

“They are all out looking for you, at the moment,” Joan explained. “Alex has teamed up with Mo and Davie and Mrs McMahon has gone to fetch Rory from his room.”

“Oh, shit,” I sighed. I didn’t want to run into that wild psycho again. I was adamant he’d killed Gera but didn’t want to mention my suspicions to Batfish
, quite yet.

“Rory liked Trevor and he will take the news badly, I’m afraid,” Joan warned.

“That Davie guy locked us in the cellar,” Batfish shrieked.

“Ah, yes,” Joan sighed. “He does have a thing about pretty young women, doesn’t he
, Chloe?”

I heard Chloe groan. “He locked me in the cellar before then tried to rape me. Alex came to my rescue that time but I’m sure he’s going to try and do it again. That’s why I want to get away from here.”

“Oh my god,” Batfish wailed. “This place is full of sick fucks.”

My stomach lurched again but this time I refrained from throwing up. The castle was a secret den of torture and abuse.
Davie had obviously committed more crimes than he’d been convicted of or he’d progressed to kidnap and attempted rape since the outbreak. 

“We didn’t kill anybody, Joan,” I sighed. “We just want to get our guns back and get the hell out of here.”
I was suddenly weary and felt as though I’d had a gutful of the people within the confines of the whacky castle.

“That might be easier said than done,” she said.
“Especially for you, Brett. I tried to warn you when you first came here. Maddie has singled you out and she’ll either keep you or…”

Joan’s words cut short. She was struck
on the head by a heavy implement and disappeared from the light, going down heavily under the blow amid a spray of blood. A huge, stocky figure loomed from the blackness behind her.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

The four of us recoiled in shock and horror as the figure growled and lumbered towards us from the darkness. Batfish dropped her flashlight and it rolled across the balcony runner, lighting up the assailant’s feet. I had a good idea who the big, clumping figure was. The flashlight silhouetted his bulky frame and I noticed the outline of a medieval axe in his hands.

I shone my flashlight at the figure and he groaned as the bright beam blinded him and stopped his progress. He lifted his free hand to try and block the light as he turned his head away. My guess was right. Rory, the crazy guy, had just split Joan’s skull with his long handled axe blade.

Chloe, Batfish and Jimmy scurried back along the balcony, away from the axe wielding hulk. He took a pace forward and swung the axe in a sideways swipe at my head. I dodged to my right and heard the blade whoosh through the air.
I retreated and my back pressed against the balcony banister. I was backed up with no place to go. The man in front of me was a human wrecking ball and he was going to kill me next if I didn’t act quickly.

I reached around my torso with my right hand and popped the handgun holster clip, keeping the flashlight beam pointed in Rory’s face, dazzling the lumbering attacker.

He roared and swung the axe again at head height. I ducked and heard the edge of the blade sail over my head. If he’d swung any lower, he’d have cut me in half. I pulled the Beretta from the holster but tumbled sideways due to the unsteady momentum. The flashlight beam skewed to one side, ceasing the blinding effect it had on Rory. He gripped the handle with both hands and raised the axe above his head, about to bring the weapon down in a chopping motion. I was leaning down with my right hand, containing the M-9, pressing against the floor. I couldn’t get an angle quickly enough to fire off a shot before Rory brought the blade down and split my head in half.

I heard a gunshot and Rory’s head jerked to his left. He grunted and then another three or four shots ripped through the darkness. I briefly glimpsed flashes of orange to my left but was aware Rory was stumbling forward. I rolled away across the carpet runner to my right and twisted to check Rory wasn’t still coming for me. Instead
, he dropped the axe, lurched frontwards into the banister then toppled over the handrail. I lost sight of him as he plummeted head first to the stone floor below but heard a sickening thump as he hit the solid ground.

A fog of cordite drifted through the flashlight beam and Batfish shuffled towards me with her M-9 held out in front of her, the barrel still smoking.
She peered over the balcony and looked down below.

“Is he dead?” I croaked.

“I fucking hope so,” she retorted.

“That was Rory,” I sighed.

“No shit.” Batfish offered me her hand to help me up.

I scooped up her flashlight and handed it to her. She shone the light over the balcony and down onto Rory’s corpse. He lay still on the ground with several gunshot wounds in his torso and a huge split across the center of his skull
, obviously caused by the heavy impact of his landing. A growing pool of dark blood surrounded his hefty body.

I turned and shone my light on Joan’s prone body. A huge, vertical split parted her skull directly down the back of her head. She lay frontwards on the balcony carpet with her head twisted to one side. Her eyes remained opened and her mouth was twisted in a grimace as
though she was still trying to utter her final words. I wondered what she was going to tell me about Maddie before she was hacked to death. I guessed it was something I’d never know.

“Let’s go,” I grunted, grabbing Batfish’s arm. “Somebody might have heard those gunshots and come to investigate. Let’s not forget, they’ve got our rifles.”

I shone my flashlight around the balcony and picked out Chloe and Jimmy crouched down, cowering against the balustrade a few yards behind us.

“Come on, you two,” I called. “Let’s get going.” I waved them towards us.

They both hesitantly rose and cautiously approached, avoiding treading too near Joan’s body.

“Why did he kill Joan?” Batfish muttered. “She had nothing to do with us.”

“She’d been warning me of these people ever since we got here,” I said. “Maybe Mrs McMahon got wind of it and told Rory or maybe he was just on the rampage and wanted to kill people. Ah, I don’t know, Batfish. I don’t have any answers. Everything and anything seems to occur in this place.” I gestured them forward. “Let’s get to our tower as quick as we can, while we’re all still in one piece.” I winced as soon as I’d uttered the bad choice of words and hoped Batfish wouldn’t relate my comment to her dead boyfriend.

We started slowly walking along the balcony. Batfish and I still had our handguns drawn. I could tell Chloe was reluctant to lead but none of us knew the route
back to the tower rooms. Batfish kept pace alongside her.

“Do you think Rory killed Gera?” she asked, in a
sorrowful, monotone voice.

“Probably,” I sighed. “He seems the obvious culprit.
I don’t know if anybody else around here would be capable of doing
that
to somebody.”

Batfish sniveled and her upper body convulsed. She was obviously trying to hold back an outpouring of emotion, which would have to wait until we reached our tower rooms.
A sudden thought abruptly flashed through my mind. We were still assuming Wingate and Cordoba were still okay in Smith’s room. Smith was in no fit state to defend himself and two handguns were no match against three assault rifles, even if the girls were military trained. Davie and Mo also had access to shotguns they’d used when helping us into the castle. I sincerely hoped the remaining castle dwellers hadn’t launched an all out assault on my friends. I was also worried for Smith’s welfare. This
Deadly Nightshade
or
belladonna
seemed to be dangerously poisonous shit and without proper medication, he could be in serious trouble.

The effects of shock at discovering Gera’s dismembered body and adrenalin from the battle with Rory still pumped around my system. My head spun with all the permutations
and possible outcomes that could play out from our current situation. All in all, our position seemed precarious, at best.

Chapter Forty

Chloe slowly led us through an array of dark passageways and twisting staircases. I flinched at every creak and scuff I heard, anticipating some unseen attacker leaping out of the darkness. We walked across a narrow balcony above a portrait gallery, depicting the former castle owners and their various relations. Their painted faces seemed to grimace at us as I flashed my light across the large picture frames. I shuddered and wondered how the old Scottish gentry would have coped with the predicament of the zombie plague we faced in these current times.

I glanced through the huge arched windows to the left of the balcony. The full moon glowing in a clear night sky illuminated the portcullis gateway at the front of the building. Silhouettes of
the gathered undead’s hands still reached through the gaps in the gateway and their moans were audible from beyond the castle boundaries.

The old lead lattice work around the glass panes and the shape of the windows reminded me of a kid’s TV show I watched when I was really young,
and still living in London. The show was a pre-school program, called ‘
Play School
’ and every day the ever enthusiastic presenter would choose a different shaped window to look through. A pre-filmed scenario of a kid riding a horse, or a bunch of shorties scrabbling around in a sand pit would run for a couple of minutes, with a voice over describing what these snotty nosed brats were up to. I imagined my own current version of the window gazing scenario.