The Turned Page 4

  Once the third corner had been smashed into the entire building imploded, coming to rest as a hissing, glowing pile of red hot coals, burying all within, including the late members of the Brentwood posse. Gribbin and Wylett slumped in the rear of the 4x4, exhausted and not even feeling the mass of expended shell casings they were sitting on. The Sheriff reached behind him and grabbed two bottles of water, handing one to Gribbin. They both drank greedily, quenching the first that the battle had given them.

  As the Sheriff lifted up his Stetson to mop his brow, a bus pulled up on the dirt road, its air brakes venting as it came to a halt. Wylett and Gribbin looked at each other, both taking another gulp of water as they realised what a state they looked. Covered in sweat, soot, cuts and blood, neither had the energy to stand as a young black priest stepped down from the coach, carrying a bible in one hand and a revolver in the other.

  He was followed by an assortment from his congregation, male and female, young and old and, pleasing to Wylett’s eye, they were all generously armed.

  ‘That’s a lot of guns for a man of God, Father,’ Wylett said, recognising the priest from somewhere.

  ‘That’s because we’re doing God’s work,’ replied the young priest, smiling.

  The group was a good size, twenty one including the Father, and they were a useful mix. A Doctor, a retired nurse, together with a mechanic and a couple of personal trainers. But what pleased Sheriff Wylett and his Deputy above all was that the bulk of the group were military veterans, all with recent gun-time overseas, and all up for the fight.

  Once a grateful Wylett and Gribbin had their cuts and scratches sterilised and bandaged, the decision was quickly made that the new group would join them, and all would head back to Brentwood. The secret shelter was more than enough to house everyone, and in the morning they could all set out with gusto to clear as many infected as they could.

  But the bus had broken down. Several of the group were driving the pickups of the original Brentwood posse, as well as having three of their own, and two Harleys, but, all together it still wasn’t enough to take all the passengers from the bus.

  They had to wait for the mechanic to fix it, as the sun began to dip.

  As the coach’s engine finally came to life, the priest walked over to Wylett as his people piled into their seats.

  ‘Is it worth trying to find somewhere just for tonight. A barn or something?’

  The Sheriff shook his head. ‘There ain’t anything in either direction that’s not filled with the infected, or that we haven’t burnt to the ground. It’s home or bust, Father.’

  The young priest nodded, unfazed. ‘Then we’d best make haste.’

  Maybe if they hadn’t kept to a slower speed to let the bus keep up it might have worked. But as Wylett drove at the head of the convoy, snaking its way through the forest as they double-backed on themselves, passing the smouldering property that had been the home of Susan Chambers, Wylett and his Deputy knew they weren’t going to make it, even though neither would say.

  And that’s when they were ambushed.

  Not wishing to leave the numbed bliss her unconscious offered, Deputy Gribbin stayed slumped in her seat, oblivious to the bedlam erupting around her. Then, as her ears started to filter the outside through to her brain, Gribbin became aware she was being dragged from her seat by one of the infected.

  8

  Lisa Gribbin snapped her eyelids open as her body was halfway out of the police 4x4’s passenger door, instantly regaining her critical faculties as she reached around with her Glock, which had never left her hand, ready to unload into the vampire gripping her.

  She squeezed off a shot, only for the round to go wide as Sheriff Wylett knocked Gribbin’s arm away as he desperately tried to get her out of the cruiser.

  ‘It’s me!’ he bellowed at her.

  In amongst the chaos of what was happening, Gribbin felt a brief second of pure relief, one part being it wasn’t an infected trying to take her, a bigger part even more relieved Wylett wasn’t dead.

  He propped her against the rear tyre. ‘Ambush from all sides!’ He stood up, loosing off a couple of shots from his magnum mini-canon at something Gribbin couldn’t see, before hunkering back down. ‘Can you fight, Lisa?’

  Gribbin nodded as she felt through her pixie cut hair, her fingers returning bloodied as she became aware of shooting all around. ‘I’m good. What happened?’

  They both ducked at a burst of automatic fire nearby.

  ‘They laid a tree across the road.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The infected. They’ve ambushed us, it’s a coordinated attack. As soon as we crashed into the tree at the front they rolled a bunch in behind us.’ Wylett looked her in the eye. ‘They’ve pinned us in. Taken out our first and last vehicle . . . We’re trapped!’

  Even in her concussed state, Deputy Gribbin knew what it meant. They had suspected the infected operated as a hive mind when they were in groups, all instinctively working together to secure their human food source. But this was off the scale, almost like vampire guerrilla warfare.

  Maybe just like the new group she had teamed up with, with their veterans who knew military tactics, the infected had skills the same, carried with them even after they had turned. Whatever the reason, Lisa Gribbin knew it was game over.

  But the Deputy wasn’t going down without a fight. Checking she had a full clip in her gun, she stood up and started firing.

  Wylett left his Deputy, knowing she could handle herself. He ran to the centre of the convoy, his sense of duty to protect citizens still drowning out any fear. But what he saw coming out of the trees still made him catch his breath. Infected were streaming in from all sides, falling on the new group even as the veterans poured automatic fire into them.

  It was the speed of them that was most astonishing. Sheriff Wylett knew they had enhanced abilities once turned. Superb hearing and eyesight, awesome strength, but he was still awestruck by how fast they could manoeuvre, literally at the speed of a racing cheetah.

  And now they were using that speed and strength to overwhelm their human targets defences. The hive mind was propelling the speeding waves of infected forward from all sides, sacrificing themselves so as to purposely use up the group’s ammunition.

  Wylett saw the young priest, crouching behind one of the pickups. He went to dash over, only to see an infected whizz past him and grab the Father, disappearing with him as fast as he had appeared. Next he saw the Doctor, blasting away on with a shotgun, only for a blur of a body to catch his eye and the Doctor vanished, followed by his agonised screaming.

  The Sheriff stood up, knowing it was over. It was night, not like earlier. Earlier the infected were dopey from hunger, and slowed by the sun.

  Now it was the night, and the infected owned it. The hail of fire started to ease as the group was slowly picked off, replaced by their screaming and the triumphant howls of the feeding vampires.

  It’s time.

  The thought clarified Wylett’s mind, knowing he only had to find the one person from the group that really mattered. And there she was, forcing a smile as she walked up to him, both ignoring the screaming and sounds of agonised death.

  Lisa Gribbin held out her hand as Wylett gripped it, winking at his young charge.

  ‘I’d be grateful if you take me with you, Jake,’ she said, trying to be brave.

  Wylett was determined that her passing would be painless, his last act as Sheriff, and his last act as her friend.

  ‘Hold onto me, darlin’, and we’ll go together.’

  Lisa Gribbin held her chin up as she closed her eyes, still trying to be brave as Wylett brought up his magnum revolver. ‘Before you know it, Lisa, you’ll be naggin’ me on the other side.’

  The quip worked, bringing the smile back to Gribbin’s face, just as her boss shot her through the head.

  She immediately dropped to a dead weight, but Wylett didn’t let go. He wasn’t going to let go until he had joined his Deputy. Wh
ich would be imminent, because he was the only one left and the infected were closing in around him and about to feast.

  But as he brought up the heavy barrel to just under his chin, the most blood-curdling shriek Jake Wylett had ever heard filled the air, making his ball-sack scrunch up.

  The vampires about to pounce instantly stopped in their tracks, each hissing as they all took a step back, the Sheriff realising what that call meant and from whom, or what, it came.

  The shriek was saying one thing: ‘He’s mine!’

  And the thing emitting it was Susan Chambers.

  Wylett kept his gun up as he forced himself to turn around, realising the infected surrounding him were the least of his worries. In the distance he could just about make out the glowing embers of the house where Travis Trent was taken, and the Sheriff could also see the blurred figure dashing through the rotted fields as it headed his way.

  It was her, Wylett just knew it was, just as the beast knew the last of the group was the man who had murdered her little darlings. And if Wylett was being honest with himself, he never really thought Susan Chambers had perished in the flames. That much hate and bitterness wasn’t going to die that easy. And now she was coming to claim what was rightfully hers.

  Even in his last moments Sheriff Wylett couldn’t help but stare in horrified awe at the speed at which Susan Chambers was tearing up the ground. Even by the enhanced abilities of the turned that he had seen, the widow was something else. She was running so fast he could hardly track her, straining to keep eyes-on, and the shrieking, getting ever nearer, ensured the Sheriff never lost sight.

  Before Wylett knew it she was on the road, and heading straight at him. Even at distance she looked ghastly, her flesh charred black and steaming, naked apart from a few strands of clothing that had melted to her. The left side of her face was gone, melted by the fire, with the skull showing through at the top, glowing embers sitting on the bone replacing Susan’s curls. The other side of her face was intact, burnt and charred, but still there, with her red eye boring into her target as she shrieked forward.

  Wylett grimaced at the sight. Some of Susan’s hair had survived on her right side, a few pathetic strands of the lush curls that had once flowed to her shoulders. Now they just reminded the Sheriff that the thing hurtling towards him had once been human, a woman he had tried to help, before she became a monster.

  As Wylett was taking it all one of the turned came at him, obviously not interested in the widow’s command. Even though the man was snarling, with bloodied fangs and crazed eyes, Sheriff Wylett still recognised him from before. It was Bob Pritchard, one of the Brentwood Mayor’s civic staff, and a man Sheriff Wylett had never much cared for.

  ‘How you doin’, Bob?’ Wylett asked as he raised his gun, knowing he had two bullets left in the magnum. ‘You don’t look too good.’

  The top of Bob Pritchard’s head blew away as Wylett fired. As he dropped to the ground Wylett could see the demon widow was nearly upon him. He turned his back on the howling banshee, not wishing the hellish thing she had turned into to be his last glimpse of the world.

  Sheriff Wylett looked up at the night sky, still gripping his Deputy’s hand. He had always marvelled at the wonder of nature, ever since he was a boy, and in his final seconds it was no different. The stars never looked more dazzling, without a single cloud to spoil the view. Jake Wylett wanted to pick out the constellations, telling himself the name of each one, as he had done so on countless night-shifts as a lawman, but he didn’t have time.

  Instead he stroked his thumb across the fingers of Lisa Gribbin, smiling at their friendship as he placed the magnum under his chin.

  Jake felt the talons of the demon widow rake his back, but she was too late, and he squeezed the trigger.

  Susan Chambers howled with rage as the gun went off and she was sprayed with the contents of Sheriff Wylett’s head, as his Stetson flew up in the air.

  Too late to exact her revenge for what he had done, too late to visit sufficient horrors upon him that would be worthy of the pain she felt at yet again losing her loved ones. The disappointment in itself was almost as painful.

  In frustration she picked up Bob Pritchard’s body and slung it into the woods. The other infected knew to keep their distance as the body flew above their heads and landed somewhere in the trees. Then the widow fell on Jake Wylett.

  The Sheriff had landed face first in the dirt, and she began a frenzied clawing at his back, ripping away the flesh and muscle. Next she flipped him over, howling as she did so, and went straight at his crutch. Susan ripped through his trousers and in one scoop with her talons ripped off his Johnson and family jewels, howling even more as she threw them over her shoulder.

  The evisceration just enhanced the widow’s bloodlust as she hacked and slashed at Jake Wylett’s body.

  Next she went for his face, clawing it to shreds before ripping his head off and hurling it into the trees, but it still wasn’t enough for the creature that had once been Susan Chambers. She wanted Sheriff Wylett’s heart, she wanted to destroy it, crush it, just as hers had been crushed. She wanted his soul.

  Ripping open Jake’s chest with her claws, hissing as she smashed through his ribs, the demon widow’s head disappeared into the bloody cavity, searching for what she desired with her snapping teeth.

  9

  Harry Trautman stepped out of the woods to see what all the commotion was about. As he stood watching the infected feed, Harry just managed to catch sight of Susan Chambers before her head disappeared into the chest of Sheriff Wylett.

  Yuk, Harry thought to himself. That is gross as shit!

  Not that he was surprised at the things people were doing now, people that used to be people, that is. And Harry was even less surprised to see it was the Chambers woman. She was charred from head to toe, still smoking from the fire she had crawled out of, but it was obviously her. Harry could see her property, just a glowing pile of ash on the floor now in the distance, but he’d been there when it wasn’t, when his wife had felt it her Christian duty to try and help a damaged soul.

  Harry had asked her not to get involved, but she insisted. The retired Marine Corps Gunnery Sergeant and Vietnam veteran knew a few things about life, and one was that people who didn’t want to be helped, weren’t going to be, no matter how much charity came their way.

  So seeing the crazed widow hacking and slashing at the downed lawman merely confirmed Harry’s thoughts. And the veteran knew a thing or two about war, because everyone was at war. The war between the uninfected and the infected, the war between the uninfected amongst themselves, killing each other to save themselves. And the war between those turned into vampires, killing each other as they battled to feed on what they craved, human blood.

  All in all it was a mess. But nothing Gunny Trautman couldn’t handle. He’d spent his entire military career bringing order out of chaos, the pandemic sweeping across his country and the world was just another obstacle to overcome. He was seventy one years old, but still weighed the same as he did at twenty one, lean and mean, with a full head of short white spiky hair, and a neatly clipped moustache, just as silvered.

  Harry had even dressed for the occasion, donning his Marine Dress Blue Uniform, with a ridiculous amount of medal ribbon pinned to its chest. The only lax in regulations were Harry’s white tennis shoes, affording him more practical manoeuvrability in these strange times.

  The one other minus point regarding Harry’s immaculate turnout was the dried blood covering the polished buttons of his tunic blazer and the medal ribbons, courtesy of the fact that he had just recently eaten.

  Now he felt satisfied and ready to implement the next phase of his plan. As Harry flicked his tongue over his impressive fangs, and drummed his clawed fingers against his trouser leg, what he saw was not all bad, certainly the method of ambush used to trap Sheriff Wylett and his group appealed to Harry’s military brain.

  Disabling the first and last vehicles in a convoy was text book,
pinning the rest of the convoy in between to be picked off with ease. Gunny Trautman had used the tactic himself, as well as also being on the receiving end of the trap, so he knew just how simply deadly it could be. And sure enough, as he was taking it all in, a young National Guard soldier ran past him as she pounced on the priest from the group, dragging the injured young man away from another vampire as he screamed, and she fed.

  Then Harry noticed more of the infected, working together as they pinned the dying survivors to the trees as they took turns to drain the last of their blood. He also noted how a large number of the night hunters had purposely offered themselves up as targets, ensuring the trapped group used up their ammunition before the other infected moved in for the kill.

  Effective, Harry thought to himself. Crude but effective.

  The veteran nodded to himself, knowing this group of infected were the ones he had been looking for, but that still left the problem of Susan Chambers. There were some people Harry just knew he wouldn’t be able to work with, and the crazed widow was one of them.

  It had nothing to do with the fact she was infected, it had to do with her being damaged in a way that meant she couldn’t be reasoned with. Plus, Gunny Trautman didn’t care for the clear disrespect of the law she was showing, or the desecration of the dead. Sheriff Jake Wylett had been a good man, a drinking buddy on occasion, and the widow’s treatment of him now was unacceptable.

  Just because Harry and the others were infected by a virus that changed them into vampires that craved blood to nourish their new selves, it didn’t mean they were savages.

  So the Chambers woman would have to go, Harry was certain of that. He just wanted to take a little longer to analyse the people he was going to be working with, knowing the importance of preparation.