The Infected (An Apocalyptic Horror)

By Shaun Whittington

An overnight contamination has occurred over an area of England, turning people exposed to the radiation into crazed cannibals. This forces survivors from all walks of life to come together and do what they can to survive.

Unaware of what is happening, a group of young people in their twenties, are travelling back from a nightclub, in the early hours of Sunday morning, and are attacked in the countryside, forcing their driver, Paul Newbold, to run away and leave the rest to flee to the nearby pub.

Not far away are man and wife who are unaware of what is happening. Paul goes into their house for safe refugee and, after watching the news on TV, the three of them slowly realise that the world that they had known does not exist anymore.

So what do the youngsters do now? Wait? Or do the people in the pub and Paul risk trying to get home?

Whatever they decide, not everyone will survive.

Not for persons under the age of 18.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shaun Whittington
• Release date: Aug 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215005767

Shaun Whittington

Shaun mainly writes dark tales with twists, not necessarily all out horror, and likes to keep his writing spelling to U.K. English, because it's easier for him.He has written short stories over a number of years for First Publishing and Skive Magazine, before turning to novels.Some of his novels are available for FREE. And he has recently signed a contract with Severed Press for his apocalyptic Ghostland books.Books available since July 2013:DemonsBillyThe Monkey WingMisty FallsBlack HourThe Prison DiariesNutjobThe Z WordSnatchers (a zombie novel)Snatchers 2: The Dead Don't SleepSnatchers 3; The Dead Don't CrySnatchers 4: The Dead Don't PitySnatchers 5: The Dead Don't BreatheSnatchers 6: The Dead Don't FeelSnatchers 7: The Dead Don't YieldSnatchers 8: The Dead Don't PraySnatchers 9: The Dead Don't ScreamSnatchers 10: The Dead Don't CareSnatchers 11: The Dead Don't KnockSnatchers 12: The Dead Don't YellSnatchers 13: The Dead Don’t FearSnatchers 14: The Dead Don’t HateSnatchers 15: The Dead Don't HurtSnatchers 16: The Dead Don't RunSnatchers 17: The Dead Don't MournMonsterlandMonsterland 2Monsterland 3The Girl with the Flying Saucer EyesSome Men are Haunted (Raven Hill)Some Men are Evil (Raven Hill 2)Some Men are Killers (Raven Hill 3)GhostlandGhostland 2Ghostland 3The CanavarsThe TravellersFor more information on new releases or just general questions. You can go to his author's page on Facebook: Shaun Whittington Author or use the link:https://www.facebook.com/WhittingtonShaun

Book preview

BOOK ONE

Prologue

The nervous private walked briskly with scissor strides and headed for the large tent. He didn’t want to disturb his commander, but this was a matter of great importance. He stopped walking once he reached the tent and paused before entering.

He entered and his heart almost stopped when he saw the grisly sight of the man that he hardly exchanged words with, eating breakfast.

The private cleared his throat, but the commander continued to eat his breakfast and never acknowledged the young private, forcing the nervous man to speak up. We’ve found something, commander.

Commander Gray looked up from where he was sitting and glared at the private, making the young man shiver with fright. He was dressed in a multi-terrain uniform, like everybody else that was stationed in the area, with his helmet sitting next to him on the wooden bench. The commander was sitting down at the large table, all on his own, and was holding his spoon that was half full with milk and hovering over the bowl of bran flakes that had hardly been touched.

It seemed to have taken an age for the commander to speak, and once he did, it was with a snarl. This better be fuckin’ important, private. I’ve only sat down for a minute, and already I’m getting pestered.

"It is important, sir."

Oh, it better be. The commander dropped his spoon into his bowl and stood up.

I was told to get you straightaway when—

Isn’t this something that Sergeant Dawkins can handle?

The private nodded and said with a quaver in his voice, I’m sorry, sir. He told me to get you. I didn’t want to question his order.

Fine.

The senior officer walked around the table and stormed out of the tent, with the private following, trying to keep up. They were both out in the fresh air and were walking onto the grass with their heavy boots. A barrier of sandbags and barbed wire could be seen as far as the eye could see and forty armed men were stretched along the barrier, all armed with Diemaco C7 assault rifles.

The commander was twenty yards from the barrier, and approached the sergeant, who was standing with a Glock 17 in his hand. Beside him was a woman. She was on her knees, crying, and looked dishevelled. Her clothes were dirty, and by her side were her two children. She had a son and a daughter, both under the age of ten. The boy looked a couple of years older than his sister. They also looked like they hadn’t been washed in weeks and were malnourished.

The commanding officer was an intimidating man, even without his rank and weapons. He was broad shouldered, had a hard face and a head full of grey hair.

The sergeant announced, Three intruders, sir.

He glared at the sergeant and snapped, How the fuck did they get by the barrier?

We found them two hundred yards over there, sir. The sergeant pointed to his right, which was just a mass of fields. The sergeant could see that the commander was perplexed and tried to explain, She dug her way under.

She... the commander wasn’t sure if he had heard right or not, "…dug her way under?"

Must have taken her ages, sir.

The commander ran his fingers through his grey hair and then ran them over his face. He admired her determination. That had to be applauded, as well as her bravery. Not many made it over the barrier, but the ones that did were punished, and he had never heard of anyone going under to get away from the West Midlands area. This was a first for the man.

Please, sir, the woman begged. Her hair was dirty and she had tears in her eyes, ready to fall. We’re starving. I have family in Carlisle. We won’t be any trouble. We can start walking again, go north, once we’ve had something to eat and drink.

The commander shook his head and produced a smirk for her boldness. You know the rules, darling. Anyone caught from the West Midlands on this side of the barrier has to be taken care of.

There is no infection any more! she cried. There hasn’t been for days. It was something that happened overnight.

I don’t make up the rules. I take my orders from the government.

It’s hell out there, chaos! If it’s not the infected, there’re people killing others to survive!

I’m sorry, the commander moaned. I have orders.

Thousands of people have probably died because no one came to help! she screamed at the commander, but kept on her knees.

And thousands more would have died if we allowed this thing to spread.

She pointed to her children and added, Look at them! How can you turn us away?

The man in charge took in an intake of breath and folded his arms as he thought. He was a man of oath and would never bend the rules for anybody. There was too much at risk. There were too many lives at risk, north and south of the country.

What shall I do with them, commander? the young private spoke, fighting back the tears. He already knew the answer.

"What do you think?" The commander pulled out his Glock from his holster and, with no hesitation, fired a single shot into the woman’s head.

She collapsed to the side, as part of her head fell away, and her two children began to scream hysterically, and both infants held one another and shivered with fright.

The commander fired two more shots, killing the children, and then there was silence. He looked at the sergeant and the private and shook his head, his face telling them both that he was displeased with them. He placed his Glock back into his holster and started to walk back to the camp. If you gentlemen need a shit, give me a shout. I’ll come and wipe your arses for the pair of you.

Commander! The sergeant yelled. What do we do with the bodies?

The man in charge stopped walking and scrunched his eyes, as if he had been asked a ridiculous question.

He turned around and said, You’ve both done this before, haven’t you?

They both nodded.

Well, then. Burn the cunts, the commander snapped, and added before entering the tent, You disturb my breakfast again, and I’ll shoot you both myself.

FIVE DAYS EARLIER

Chapter One

Sunday 2nd August

It was just after midnight and the boisterous wind slapped the bedroom window, but the noise coming from outside did not put off the amorous couple that were seconds away from finishing making love. Once they were done, the two of them fell on their backs and gazed up at the bedroom ceiling in the dusky room, and continued to pant, eventually getting their breaths back.

She remained on her back as her lover, Henry Brown, got to his feet and stood by the side of the bed. He walked over to the window and looked out. He had never heard wind like it. Henry looked up and could see that the moon was small and narrow, like a grin in the night sky. He went over to his lover, kissed her on the lips, and managed a smile. The sky possessed some dark clouds, and there were stars that looked like they had been scattered and looked like sequins on a black dress. He predicted that there was going to be heavy rain later on.

He told the woman that he was going to the bathroom to clean himself up. She never responded as he walked away. By the time he returned, she was almost fully dressed and only had her shirt to put on.

Going already? he asked her. My flatmate won’t be back for a few more hours.

Not yet. She began to button up her shirt. "I’m going outside for a smoke. I know you hate the smell, and it is your flat."

That’s very considerate, he said sarcastically with a smile.

I’m gonna ring my mum while I’m out, she said.

She still ill?

She’s getting better. She put on her shoes and her lover also began to get dressed.

Have you told her about me yet?

No, not yet. She shook her head. I’ve only been separated from my husband for a month. I don’t want her to think I’m some kind of tart.

Who cares what she thinks?

I separate mutually with my husband of fifteen years and then three weeks later I’m sleeping with someone else. Trust me, I may be in my early forties, but my old fashioned mother wouldn’t understand. I’m living with her for a couple of months, so I don’t wanna upset her. I need to respect her old fashioned ways. If she found out I met you on some dating website, she’d go nuts.

What did you tell her when you left to come here?

I told her that I was going for a drive to clear my head. It’s been nearly an hour now. Any longer and she’ll know something’s going on. And I couldn’t tell her I was going out with friends.

Why not?

The woman laughed, Because I don’t have any.

They both went downstairs and Henry Brown went into the living room, sat in the armchair, and began to play with his phone as his female lover went outside for a smoke. She shut the door behind her, and he told her to give the door a knock when she was ready to come back in.

He looked at the time on his phone and could see it was almost half an hour past midnight. I wonder if she’s up. A bit late to be calling your mother, especially an old one.

He could hear talking outside and took a peek out, and could see the middle aged woman, who was more than ten years his senior, talking on her phone on the garden path, just yards away from her car that was parked at the side of the road.

Ridiculous. He shook his head with a grin. A woman in her forties explaining to her mother after midnight where she is.

He placed his phone on the arm of the chair, leaned back, and closed his eyes, waiting for his lover to return, waiting for the knock.

Tiredness was creeping up on him.

*

He woke up with a gasp, almost shooting out of his armchair. Confused, he scanned his living room and looked over at the lamp, which was the only light in the room.

Kelly?

He ran his fingers over his face, suffocated with confusion, and went over to the window and looked out, but couldn’t see his lover.

He picked up his phone and could see that he had been asleep for seventeen minutes. He looked out of the window again. Kelly was nowhere to be seen, and yet her car was still parked at the side of the road.

What’s going on?

He went to the front door and stepped outside. He could feel the wind tugging at his clothes, like an impatient child wanting attention, and also felt the spitting rain on his face. It wouldn’t be long before the clouds had emptied their contents on the village of Colton, showering the place and cleansing it in time for a fresh day.

He walked to the end of the garden path and looked out onto his street. Sirens could be heard in the distance and his eyes narrowed when he thought he heard a scream.

Kelly! He called out once again. Kelly!

He looked down his street and could see a figure running up the road in the distance. He could tell that the runner was female, but wasn’t entirely sure that it was Kelly. He looked down and could see that he only had socks on his feet and still hadn’t put his shoes on.

He could now see that the running individual was Kelly and the scene baffled him. Why was she running? Why was she at the bottom of the street in the first place, and so far away from her car? It didn’t make sense.

She was only yards from him now and her speed wasn’t decreasing.

Um ... Kelly, are you okay?

Her running continued.

Kelly! What’s going on?

She was yards from him and the speed of her never declined.

Kelly?

She pounced on her lover, knocking him over, and he was dazed as soon as the back of his head hit the tarmac.

She was on top of him, snarling. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her lover reached out to touch her face, but she snapped at him, missing his fingers by millimetres.

She leaned down and buried her head into the side of his neck, trying to take a bite, but Henry grabbed her around the throat and knew if he let go, she’d kill him. He had no idea what was happening, but he began to choke her, and the woman he had met on a dating website was beginning to weaken.

A minute later, she collapsed to the side and an exhausted and baffled Henry tried to scramble to his feet.

He looked down on the woman and checked her carotid artery. Her heart had stopped. She was dead. He had killed her.

Chapter Two

The vehicle had entered the small village of Milford and they were all now just a few miles from their hometown. It was nearly 4am on this August morning. Although visibility wasn’t a problem, it was still dusky and the army of black-bellied clouds were suffocating the early sun.

Rain was due.

The black Corsa took the snaky lanes of the countryside and the driver was told by his nervous front passenger to slow down. Many people had perished on these roads over the years, and it wasn’t to do with collisions with oncoming vehicles, it was down to erratic driving. Many a vehicle had unnecessarily collided with a tree and had ended a young life or lives over the years. The passenger in the front, Tony Willetts, didn’t want to be another statistic; he just wanted to get home in one piece. He had already experienced the funeral of a friend, and didn’t want to be another dead young man.

Tony’s friend that died from years back was thirteen years old, and was being driven home by his mum from his football practice. She decided to overtake a slow moving vehicle. Another car came around the bend the opposite way, forcing the mother off the road and the vehicle smashed into a tree. Both were killed instantly.

Tony snapped out of his macabre daydreaming of yesteryear and could hear that the driver, his friend Paul Newbold, and the three passengers in the back were conversing with one another.

The chatter amongst the five people in the car was raucous, and although it was late—or early?—they were talking about the party they had just left in Stafford. It was early Sunday morning, and as usual the three males had been to the Fatty Arbuckle’s nightclub in Stafford. Hours later, they had met up with some people and were invited to a party after the nightclub had closed.

Party? Well, basically all it entailed were a bunch of young people sitting about, drinking, smoking cigarettes and weed, snorting coke, and listening to really loud dance music. After a visit by an officer of the law, because neighbours had complained about the noise, the party was abandoned. It was supposed to be a get together that lasted through to the late morning, but the police presence had ruined what fun they were having.

The driver of the vehicle, twenty-four-year-old Paul Newbold, had left the party of around twenty people, taking his friends, Tony Willetts and Craig Shepherd, with him. It was one of those get-togethers that was dour from the start, but nobody wanted to be the first person to leave. The neighbours and the police had done Paul a favour. As he was the designated driver, he was sober and glad to be finally leaving. He was desperate for his bed, and reflected on another pointless night.

The Fatty Arbuckle’s nightclub opened at 9pm. It was Paul’s turn to drive, as they took it in turns each week. Unlike his two pals, Paul drank water for most of the time, and even tried a Red Bull to snap him out off his tiredness at around 1am. He never even had so much as a joint when they went back to the house they were invited to, and helped himself to a black coffee in the kitchen of the house.

Paul Newbold, Tony Willetts and Craig Shepherd were all from the small town of Rugeley, situated eight miles from Stafford, and once they were about to leave the house where the party had taken place, two girls from the abandoned party asked if they could get a ride. The girls were from Brereton, a smaller town next to Rugeley, and had never said a word to the three males all night. And now they wanted a lift.

Paul had the room in his black Corsa, so he decided to allow the girls to tag along. They introduced themselves and went into the back of the car.

The brunette introduced herself as Demi and was a gorgeous voluptuous thing. Her friend was called Emma, and she was also stunning, way out of the boys’ league, and all three males were surprised that the girls were going home alone.

They got themselves comfortable in the vehicle. The two girls were in the back, Craig Shepherd was in the back with them, and Tony Willetts was sitting next to Paul Newbold in the front passenger seat.

The car continued to go along the winding lanes, and now the road straightened up and they were on Stafford Road.

The front passenger, Tony Willetts, ran his fingers through his short blonde hair and looked around the shadowy area with his blue eyes. He could see nothing but trees to the right side of him, and farmland to his left.

The chatter amongst the five people had died down and there had been a couple of minutes of silence as all passengers began playing with their phones. Tony placed his phone into his pocket and folded his arms, staring out of his window.

This is creepy as hell, man, he groaned, scratching at his left cheek.

Wit ya talkin’ about? Paul asked, and then released a strident yawn. He sniffed and realised his breath stunk and was desperate to brush his teeth once he returned home. Then, after that, he was going to sleep for the rest of the Sunday.

This whole area, man. Tony continued to peer out of the window and looked out and up to the murky heavens. The clouds looked unusual, almost brown in colour.

We’ve gone by this area over a hundred times, Paul scoffed. "And now the place is freakin’ ya out?"

I know, but it’s never looked this creepy before, said Tony, and continued to look outside.

Ya tired, Paul began to cackle. He winced and then began to pick at his left itchy ear with his forefinger. "Ya just need a sleep. I know I do."

Stop picking, man. Tony looked on in disgust. That’s gross.

I can’t help it. It’s my flaky skin. I’ve got some stuff for it at home, but doesn’t seem to be doin’ the trick.

Tony faced the front and looked up to the creepy heavens. He shook his head and sighed, Imagine if we broke down.

Stop it! Demi yelled from the back of the car. It’s freaky enough as it is. I hate the countryside. Especially when it’s dark like this.

Jesus, Paul moaned. "Not you as well."

Her friend next to her, Emma, never said a word and had her head down, smiling to herself, and was playing with her iPhone. Craig was sitting next to her and his head dropped every now and then. Sleep was sneaking up on him. He was trying to fight it, but he was losing the battle.

This reminds me of that Hammer House of Horror episode from the eighties, man, said Tony, and began to crack his knuckles.

Paul flashed Tony a hard look and said, with his face screwed up, I wish ya would stop doin’ that.

Tony ignored Paul and continued, It was a great episode.

Hammer House of Horror? How do you remember that, Tony? Craig Shepherd chuckled from the back. He looked at Emma and flashed the attractive girl a smile, but she was otherwise engaged, texting somebody. Craig asked further, Wasn’t that a bit before our time?

It was on the Horror Channel. Tony had finished cracking his knuckles and added, It was an episode where some family were driving in the countryside.

I think I know which one ya talkin’ about, Paul Newbold decided to join in on the conversation. Is that the one with the hitchhiker?

Tony laughed, That’s the one.

I know which one you’re talking about now, mate, Craig said, rubbing his eyes.

What happened? Demi asked, whilst Emma remained quiet. She had now put her phone away and was nodding off in the back.

A family were drivin’ along a country lane, like this one. Paul decided to be the storyteller. And picked up a hitchhiker in the pourin’ rain, wearin’ a yellow waterproof jacket and hat.

Anyway, Craig interrupted from the back and couldn’t help himself. The hiker had this long fingernail and rammed it in the driver’s throat, and he ended up crashing the car.

Oh. Demi shifted in her seat uncomfortably and placed her clammy hands on her trousers.

I remember an episode called Carpathian Eagle, Paul began. It’s about a woman that thinks she’s possessed by the spirit of a murderess, and ends up going on a killin’ spree herself. One of Pierce Brosnan’s early television roles.

Paul realised he was waffling and decided to stop before he put everybody to sleep.

Emma’s eyes opened and she pulled out her phone after feeling it vibrate and took a look, and then texted back.

Who is it? Demi enquired.

Henry, Emma sighed. Wondering where I am.

Who’s Henry? asked Craig, who was sitting next to her. He tried to have a peek at her phone, but she moved it at an angle so he couldn’t see.

Emma’s older brother, Demi replied.

Demi knows him well, Emma began to tease. Don’t you, Demi?

Shut up. Demi playfully nudged her friend. It was a one off.

One off? Emma scoffed. You and my brother were at it for weeks.

Oh, did you and this Henry used to shag? Tony probed from the front.

Mind your own fucking business, Demi snapped. I don’t even know you.

Charming, laughed Tony. We give you a lift, and then you speak to me like that.

"You’re not giving me a lift, Demi sighed. Paul is."

What kind of a name is Henry anyway? Tony began to laugh, and then Paul joined in. I wouldn’t even call my dog Henry.

Wit’s his second name? asked Paul. Winkler? Rollins?

Come on, Tony spoke up. Let the fish out the bag. What is it?

Fish out the bag? Demi cackled. "Don’t you mean … cat?"

Ya will have to forgive my friend, said Paul. He tends to get his sayings mixed up.

It’s not Henry the Engine, is it? Tony laughed, but nobody else joined in on his poor attempt at humour.

Emma couldn’t help herself, and was annoyed that they were taking the piss out of someone they didn’t even know. No, it’s Brown, Emma groaned, and said with a smile, He hangs around with a guy called Maxwell. Heard of them?

Tony and Paul took a quick look at one another and seemed stunned by the confession. Was she joking? Was this her way of shutting them up? If it was, then it worked.

Unlike his two friends in the front, Craig wasn’t sure about the names Henry and Maxwell. He was the first one to open his mouth and asked, Henry and Maxwell? Is that the two main drug dealers in Rugeley?

Emma moaned, Forget I said anything.

I heard they carry guns, Craig continued, ignoring Emma’s plea. They make Ziggy look like a choirboy.

Who’s Ziggy?

Some mental case from my street. Craig narrowed his eyes and said, Hang on. Were Henry and Maxwell the ones that shot that dealer Terry Knowles in the Tesco car park? Wasn’t he shot in the legs?

Who’s Terry Knowles? asked Tony.

A drug dealer. His brother is Billy Knowles. A proper psycho.

Don’t be silly. Emma shifted in her seat uncomfortably and added, Let’s change the subject.

There was a silence in the car and Paul and Tony especially looked tetchy, wondering what else to say, rather than having an uncomfortable silence for the remainder of the journey. Paul may have ridiculed Henry Brown’s name, but he had helped his little sister out and had given her and her pal a ride home, so he wasn’t too worried.

Anyway, back to Hammer House of Horror, Craig spoke up, but by this time the interest had waned. I liked the one with the pet shop.

That’s the one with Peter Cushing. Paul looked at Craig in the rear view mirror and nodded. Brian Cox was in it as well.

Who? Tony queried.

He was in that film we watched. The Autopsy of Jane Doe.

The car fell silent.

Paul continued to drive at a steady forty, along the Stafford Road, and looked up at the eerie sight of the black and grey clouds that hung above them. It was nearly 4am, and it was darker than it should have been, thanks to the army of clouds that were ready to release their contents over the land.

Tony also looked up, yawned, and stated the obvious. Looks like it’s going to rain, man.

Paul looked to his side, at Tony, and then in the mirror at his three passengers. They all looked exhausted. No wonder. They had been drinking for hours, and sensible people would have been in their beds four or five hours ago.

Remember that horror annual you used to have, Paul? Craig spoke from the back, and all could see the pub up ahead. It was The Wolseley Arms.

I do. Paul nodded with a smile. Dracula Spinechillers Annual 1982.

We used to read that when we were kids, Craig laughed.

I remember, said Paul, and could see that Demi and Emma had nodded off in the back, and Tony was also struggling. It was my dad’s.

I remember the stories in there. There was one about a werewolf.

It was the two main comics that I remember, Paul said with a smile, still feeling tired himself. Two miles to go. Castle Dracula and Twins of Evil.

Paul looked at Demi and Emma again and then flashed Craig a smile. Wit do ya reckon? he said softly.

Craig knew what he meant and whispered, Out of our league, mate.

They’re single ... apparently.

So are we, Craig chuckled. They’re still too good for us.

Paul looked ahead and then above for a few seconds. The sky was a peculiar dull colour and the scene made his vertebrae shudder. He flicked his wiper as the rain came down and carpet-bombed the area, and now he couldn’t wait to get home.

When was the last time ya saw Kerry?

Kerry? Craig rubbed his clean-shaven face in thought and then shrugged his shoulders. She hasn’t been around for days. One of those friends with benefits deals we have, know what I mean?

I wish I did, Paul sighed. The old pocket rocket hasn’t seen any action in two months.

Two months? Craig released a laugh, disturbing the girls in the back. You’re almost as sad as Tony, mate. You’ve never been with many since you split up with Marion, three years ago.

I have my reasons, Paul snapped.

Man, you went weird for ages when she dumped you, mate. You was drunk constantly, you nearly lost your job, and—

Gonna drop it?

Craig laughed and said, It was three years ago, Paul. Don’t be so sensitive.

Just drop it … please. Let’s change the subject.

Okay. Back to Tony.

Paul looked to his side to his front passenger, Tony Willetts, who was in dreamland, his head drooping as if he had broken his neck. Paul shushed Craig and shook his head.

What is it? Craig asked with his voice raised. The rain was coming down heavy and Paul had his full beam on and his wipers at full speed, and was still struggling to see properly.

He might hear ya. Leave him alone.

Aw, come on, mate. He’s twenty four.

He’ll find someone eventually. Paul now took his foot slightly off the accelerator and reduced the car’s speed to twenty-five.

Find someone? Craig snickered.

For all we know, he could have been someone, but kept it secret.

No way, mate, Craig laughed. I would know.

Paul looked at Craig through the rear view mirror. If only you knew the truth.

He needs some desperate bird to practice on before he meets someone he really likes. Otherwise, they’ll think he’s some kind of weirdo if he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

Someone to practice on? Paul didn’t know whether to laugh at Craig’s comments or be offended. Have ya heard yaself?

It’s about time that he—

Shit! Paul screamed.

Something darted across the road, forcing Paul to slam on the brakes, waking up his sleeping passengers immediately. He steered away to the right, making the car’s tyres squeal, as well as the three passengers in the back. The Corsa span one-eighty degrees and came to a stop.

Paul switched the engine off and took a look at his shaking hands. He could hear the panicky breath of his passengers, but nobody spoke. All five were trying to let the frightening episode sink in.

The rain was relentless, and hammered on the roof so viciously that it sounded like nails bouncing off the top of the vehicle. It was as if Mother Nature wanted to cave it in.

Paul looked to the side of him. He could see Tony staring into nothingness, confused. He then looked over his shoulder and asked his three passengers in the back, Is everybody okay?

Chapter Three

Melvin Leslie puffed out a breath and turned to his side to see the dark lump in the bed next to him. She was snoring again. She sounded like a hog with asthma.

Melvin huffed and sat up, shaking his head. Fucking lump, he muttered under his breath.

He knew that if she heard him, he’d get a verbal lashing from the woman. He got out of bed and stepped out of the bedroom, moaning to himself, and went to the toilet for a pee. He moaned as the dark yellow urine gushed out. He closed the lid down once he was finished, and didn’t flush so he didn’t alert her.

The last time he went for a pee in the middle of the night or early in the morning, he flushed the toilet and had woken up his wife. To say she was unhappy would have been an understatement. Melvin had received a dressing down from his angry wife and was called a selfish prick, before she stomped her way back to bed. He muttered something under his breath as she stormed off, something like: You fucking cow. This comment forced her to turn around and she squared up to her husband, demanding to know what he had said. At first he thought she was going to hit him, but her snarling had diluted and she went back to bed.

Their relationship for the last ten years or so had been one riddled with antagonism. Melvin had no idea why she was so annoyed with him. The pair never had kids, not for the want of trying in the past, and neither did they have any family around them. It was just the two of them. And most of the time they hated the sight of each other.

Melvin would love to have left the woman, but he had nowhere to go. He didn’t have the best-paid job in the world, and couldn’t afford to have a place of his own. But why should he be the one to move out?

The house had been paid off, so why should he live alone in a new place whilst she’d be living in a house with the mortgage all paid for? He had helped pay for the place over the years, so it was a matter of seeing which one of them died first. They were both in their fifties, and Melvin was aware that she could live for another twenty years at least, unless she had some kind of nasty fall.

He made his way downstairs and decided to sit in the gloomy living room for a while. Maybe he would dose off on the couch for a few hours.

His eyes were getting heavy and his head lowered by an inch as the tiredness began to sneak up on him once more.

His eyes widened and his head was raised once a noise was heard out the front. His house was detached, only a few existed on the Wolseley Road, and he was aware that the noise could be anything. It could be a fox, a stray dog, or an escaped animal from one of the local farms.

They lived in the countryside, two miles from Rugeley Town, with the village of Little Haywood half a mile up the road. They were on the right side of the Wolseley Bridge. Over the bridge was The Wolseley Arms pub, on the other side of the road, and because the Wolseley Road was a country road, there were no streetlights.

Many a night Melvin had walked along the road whenever he couldn’t sleep. It was an eerie place, especially when a full moon was out, shining on the River Trent, but it was his home and there was hardly a soul around usually.

Melvin could hear his wife’s snoring coming through the ceiling, as his bedroom was above him, and shook his head. Jesus Christ, he huffed. The only positive was that he didn’t have work until Monday.

He heard another noise, coming from the front of the house, and went over to his front window and peered out. Dawn was breaking, so he could see a little, as well as the sun bleeding over the horizon like a wounded animal. Two hours previous and all he would have been able to see was darkness.

He gasped when a solitary figure ran by his house, along the country road. It looked like a male, and he was running away from the pub and looked like he was heading in the direction of the village of Little Haywood.

A scream could then be heard, and Melvin didn’t know whether it was people misbehaving or if somebody was in trouble. That scream took him back. It took him back twenty-one years. A day he would never forget.

He brought himself back to reality and thought about what he had just heard and decided not to act on it.

Best to leave it, he muttered.

Chapter Four

I think I might have pissed myself, man, Tony blurted out. After the car had come to a stop, he was the first person to eventually speak after Paul asked if they were all okay.

Both Tony and Paul gazed out of the windscreen and watched hypnotically as the rain came down, bouncing of the glass.

I need to get out, said Emma. She reached for the door and stumbled out onto the road, into the pouring rain.

Are ya mad? Paul called out. It’s pissin’ down outside.

Emma! Demi called out. We don’t know what’s out there.

Emma never responded to her friend’s comment. Nobody knew why she was desperate to get out, until she went to the other side of the road, stood on the grass bank, and threw up.

Demi looked out at the miserable weather and was reluctant to go out and see her friend. The three guys in the car were people that were from their area, but she didn’t know them. Emma and Demi only got chatting with Paul when they found out he had a car and all three were based in Rugeley. Demi and Emma were attractive, single, and spent most of the night in the club being chatted up by horny young men who only had one thing on their minds. Most of their drinks had been bought by other men and they were invited to a small party minutes before the place closed.

The plan was to go to the party, and then get a cab home. But once they got talking to Paul, they realised that they could save themselves thirty quid if they were nice enough.

Most young men were like excited puppies whenever they were around Demi and Emma, almost pathetic, but Paul was different. He never flirted with either of them and asked them if they wanted a ride home. He seemed different to most men, not sleazy, and seemed genuine, making the girls feel at ease. Their parents would feel uncomfortable if they found out that their girls had been taken home by three males, but Paul Newbold was different. He was mature for his age, and seemed to have an old head on young shoulders. Maybe he was gay, Demi thought. The two of them weren’t used to young men not flirting with them.

Tony and Craig were different, however. They were like lovesick puppies when the two girls got in the back of the car, but not the driver. Not Paul Newbold.

Demi felt strangely attracted to him. He was good looking, not stunning, and seemed like a nice guy. Maybe the fact that he wasn’t drooling over her, like the other two, made him more attractive.

I hope he’s not gay. She smiled to herself. I’ll make more of an effort to speak to him once we get going again. If he asks for my number or friend requests me, I’ll accept it.

Paul sighed, I’ll go and see if she’s okay.

Caring as well. Demi watched as Paul stepped out into the driving rain.

She was eventually going to see how her friend was herself, but Paul had beaten her to it.

Careful out there! Tony yelled at the driver. That thing’s still out there.

That thing? Paul laughed. He was now getting soaked and decided to leave his driver’s door open. Ya mean that deer that ran by Carol.

Who the fuck is Carol? Demi asked.

It’s what Paul calls his car, Craig groaned.

We don’t know for sure if it was a deer, Tony called out from the car.

Well, what else could it be?

Um...

It must have been an animal of some sort, said Paul and then mocked Tony, Unless it’s the hitchhiker with the yellow raincoat.

Paul continued to chuckle and the sodden male went over to Emma, who seemed to have stopped vomiting.

She stood up and looked to her side, and smiled at Paul.

You okay? he asked her.

I didn’t even drink that much. She wiped her mouth and brushed back her wet blonde hair.

I think I saw ya take a couple of smokes from that spliff at the party, said Paul, trying not to sound like her father. Maybe ya been sick due to a mixture of that and the car journey.

Maybe, she sighed.

Paul looked around and although the sky was slowly brightening up at a snail’s pace, he could hardly see a thing, apart from what was ahead, but that was down to the car’s headlights.

He looked up to the gloomy sky, the rain assaulting his face, and laughed, We better get back inside before we get pneumonia.

Of course.

She turned on her heels and they both began to make the short walk over back to the car, but three steps had only been achieved and the pair of them stopped.

Did you hear that? she asked Paul with a quaver in her tone. The pair of them were looking into the darkness, opposite the pub, and with their backs to the Vauxhall Corsa.

Ignoring the rain, Paul gazed into the darkness. I think so.

What does it sound like to you?

Like ... runnin’. I can hear growlin’ as well, Paul said in a whisper.

They both stood, frozen with fear that had swam through their frames, not caring about the relentless rain. Now the confused passengers from inside the car were telling the two to hurry up and get inside.

I think we should get back to the car, Emma said, but neither of them did.

The sound of feet slapping the concrete was speeding up and getting louder, and both Paul and Emma gasped when the shape of a man could be seen hurtling toward them.

Emma was the first to be attacked.

Chapter Five

Melvin continued to peer out of the window and had seen nothing else after the figure that went by before. He was sure it was a man. Maybe he was running from someone. Had he been attacked?

Melvin scratched his hair and was now alert. He was never going to go back to sleep now. Worse, was that he would have to spend the day with his annoying wife whilst sleep deprived.

It’s going to be a testing day, he thought.

His ears twitched when a sound could be heard. More screaming? He opened his window and could clearly hear the screams from a female in the distance. It sounded like it was coming from the left, in the direction of Stafford Road, near the pub.

What the...?

The screams died and Melvin decided to shut his window. He had no idea what was happening, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He kept the lights of his house off and went back to the sofa.

So far, there had been two screams and a man had ran past his house a few minutes ago. Was that enough to call the police? He decided not to take any action.

Melvin decided to go upstairs and try and sleep again. He didn’t feel sleepy, but he knew tiredness would catch up with him by the afternoon.

He entered his room and could see the shape of his wife in the dim area. He crept into the bed and pulled the duvet over his body. He was wearing boxers and a creased T-shirt, and lay down with his eyes gazing up at the ceiling. His wife was still snoring, and a two second long sound of flatulence leaving her back passage made Melvin screw his face in disgust.

For fuck’s sake. Maybe I should just put my pillow over her face and be done with it.

In the first years with his wife, they would have non-stop sex, anywhere they could. Sometimes they’d be watching TV and she would give him a cheeky nudge and tell him that she was going upstairs to slip into something more comfortable, which was the sign that she was up for a bit of hanky panky. These days, the only comfortable thing that he wanted his wife to slip into was a coma.

He continued staring and could hear the heavy breathing to his left. He looked to the lump under the duvet and just couldn’t relax.

He reached over and gave her a nudge. This is what he sometimes needed to do on a night so she would shut up for a few minutes, and then the snoring would start again. Even when he did nod off, sometimes her snoring would be so loud that she would wake him up and the whole process would start again. He would nudge her and then nod off once more.

A few weeks back, he had forgotten himself, and was half sleeping when he turned and punched her in the back. She woke up, winded, and unable to breathe. She fell out of bed, crawled along the carpet for a few yards, and desperately tried to get her breath back. Melvin denied any knowledge of what happened, and had convinced her that she must have fallen out of bed and knocked the air out of her lungs.

This ain’t happening, Melvin moaned, and sat up.

He could hear the sound of more running out at the front, getting louder and louder, forcing Melvin to quickly get to his feet and head to his bedroom window. He peered out and could see the area getting lighter. He turned his head to the left and could see a male sprinting away from the pub. This was a different individual to the one Melvin had seen before. The running man was only twenty yards away from their house and appeared to be in a panic. He seemed to be running away from someone ... or something.

Don’t come here, Melvin whispered. Don’t you fucking come here.

He stepped away from the window, the rain beating down, and took a few steps back, waiting for the individual to go by his house. He turned around and could see the outline of a canvas picture hanging above the bed. Years ago, it was a black and white picture of an eerie forest, but the picture was quickly removed after the catastrophe that hit the Leslies. It reminded them of the terrible night/early morning that occurred on the second day of November, twenty-one years ago.

Melvin snapped out of his daydreaming. His heart made little shudders against his ribs and he gasped once he heard his door being banged.

Holy shitballs.

Chapter Six

The male had appeared from the darkness and jumped at Emma, knocking her over, and he was now on top of her. The man was dressed in black trousers and black shirt and his clothes were soaked. Emma’s screams pierced the early morning as her crazed attacker buried his head in her neck. Paul Newbold was the first to react, jumping on top of the man that was attacking her, but the deranged individual was strong. Paul had his hands around the back of the man’s neck and tried to drag him off from the screaming female.

He then grabbed the dark hair of the attacker and pulled as hard as he could, eventually pulling him off. He wrapped his arm around the aggressor’s throat, then jumped and wrapped his legs around him and fell back as if he was participating in a wrestling match. The two men fell to the floor, the rain still beating hard, whilst Craig, Tony and Demi remained in the car, staring in shock. All three inside the vehicle were failing to process what was actually happening.

Give me a hand! Paul screamed out at the remaining three individuals in the vehicle, and Tony was the first to step out.

What do you want me to do, man?

Anything! I can’t hold him much longer! Paul called out to Tony.

The crazed man was snarling and thrashing about, sometimes catching Paul with the back of his head, and didn’t seem to be letting up. Tony ran over to the maniac and kicked him in the stomach. The attacker was silent for a few seconds, vomited, and then continued to thrash about as if he was being electrocuted, with Paul still trying to keep a hold of him.

Fuck it! snapped Tony, and went to the boot of the car. He opened the boot and took out a tyre iron. He ran over to where Paul and the other crazed individual were, and raised the metal, but Tony hesitated.

Just do it! Paul snapped.

Tony rained two blows to the man’s head and this seemed to have stopped his movement. Paul was hesitant on releasing the man, but Tony looked at the face of the attacker and then looked at Paul and gave him a reassuring nod.

Soaked to the bone, Paul stood up and looked at the individual that had attacked Emma. He looked just like an average guy. He had dark hair, was wearing dark clothes, and was a bit chubby around the face.

Each one of them was wondering what the fuck that was all about, but they all remained silent. Demi and Craig finally stepped out of the vehicle and the three males helplessly gazed at Emma.

Jesus Christ in Heaven. Demi went over to her friend, crying, and crouched over her.

Demi threw her head to the side and screamed at the males to help her, but Paul knew Emma was done for. Emma was still alive, coughing and spluttering, but her throat had been so badly mutilated that Paul and the others knew that she only had seconds to live. She lay with Demi crying over her, and they could see the rain, washing Emma’s blood to the side of the road.

We need to get help! Demi screamed.

Paul was the first to walk over to her and crouched down next to Demi. Emma had stopped moving and both knew she had passed away. Her throat had been torn out, and Paul guessed that the carotid artery had been ripped away, which would have caused massive blood loss and no chance of survival.

The rain was dying off and Paul put his arm around the sobbing Demi Mason, a young woman he hardly knew.

What else can we do? she sobbed.

There’s nothing else we can do.

Oh, Emma.

We better call an ambulance, said Paul, and then looked over to the man that was responsible for the attack, lying at the side of the road. Better call the police as well, for him.

I’ll do it, Demi sniffed. She stood up, reluctant to leave her friend, despite the fact that she was gone.

Paul gave Demi a small smile. I’ll stay with her.

What’s happening? Craig called over.

Demi went into the back of the car and Paul told Tony and Craig to get back inside the vehicle. As soon as the emergency services had arrived, Paul was going back home.

What about him? Tony pointed over to the male attacker, Emma’s murderer.

He won’t be goin’ anywhere, Paul said. Not with two blows to the head with that tyre iron.

Oh, shit! Tony cried. Do you think I’ve killed him? I can’t go to jail, Paul. I—

Just get back in the car. Try not to think about that now.

Paul went to the boot of the car and looked for a sheet to cover Emma’s body, but there wasn’t one. He took a glance to the side and gave his friends a wink as he walked by. He could see that Demi was in the back being comforted by Craig, and Tony had returned to the front passenger seat, clutching onto the tyre iron. Paul headed back over to Emma, whose body was fifteen yards from the vehicle.

His friends sat inside his car, doors closed, and Paul gazed at Emma’s body, baffled about what had just happened. He crouched down and whispered a prayer. He wasn’t a believer, but it seemed the right thing to do.

He looked up to the murky heavens and was pleased that the rain was dying. The front passenger door opened and Tony stuck his head out.

He said, We’re all trying the emergency services, but we can’t get through, man.

Just keep tryin’, Paul called over.

Paul looked to the side of the car and his eyes widened. He waved his hand frantically at Tony, telling him to shut his door. Tony had interpreted this correctly and now Paul stood as he could see the same person that Tony had hit, twice with the tyre iron, getting to his feet.

For fuck’s sake.

Paul didn’t know whether to run or not, as he certainly didn’t have time to get back to the car. He pointed over at the man and gestured to the three people inside the vehicle to get their heads down.

There was now a stand off.

Paul and the crazed individual were staring at one another. The man twisted his neck and shook his head and began to snarl, making Paul’s heart gallop to a frightening pace. The individual adjusted his feet as if he was about to run at Paul, but Paul was the first to react. He began to run away from the vehicle, heading down the Stafford Road. The attacker predictably followed, and Paul Newbold ran like he had never ran before.

He passed the pub and ran up the hump of the bridge. He looked over his shoulder and could see that his pursuer was gaining on him. As soon as he went over the hump, he went into a cluster of bushes and held his breath. The insane chaser ran by him and continued to run, slapping the tarmac with his clumsy feet.

A smile stretched over Paul’s face and decided to give it another minute before returning back to the car, for safety reasons and to get his breath back.

Once that minute was roughly up, he stepped out into the road and looked to his right, where the thing had ran down. The road was clear and Paul guessed that the deranged person had either entered Little Haywood or continued along the road that bent to the right, further up.

As long as he’s away from me, I don’t care.

Paul approached the Wolseley Bridge and stopped once he was at the peak of the hump. Now that the rain had stopped, the only sound he could hear was the River Trent flowing underneath him. He looked to his right and could see one solitary house on the right hand side of the winding road. He knew there were more further on, as he had driven down the Wolseley Road on a few occasions whenever he went to Stoke or Trentham Gardens.

He looked to his left and could see the Wolseley Arms pub on the left side of the road, near where Stafford Road merged with a road that led into Paul’s hometown called Rugeley. He never even thought to try the pub when he was being chased, but with it being four or five in the morning, he was certain that he wouldn’t have got an answer from the owners, and he would have probably have gotten the same fate that poor Emma received.

Now that his panic had diluted, he was beginning to think why someone would do such a thing. It didn’t make sense. It was like something out of a zombie movie. Although this nefarious individual who attacked Emma was quick and he seemed to breathe like a normal person, his actions were insane and unbelievable.

Paul then looked in the distance, past the pub, and could see his car sitting on the Stafford Road, many yards from the establishment. He wondered how his friends were getting on.

Were the police on their way? How were they going to explain this one without the police laughing in their faces?

A man from out of nowhere attacked a female, tore her throat out, was then hit twice over the head with a tyre iron, got back up, and then gave chase to Paul. It seemed ludicrous. It was ludicrous.

Paul then scrunched his eyes, as he looked beyond his car, further up the road. He could see something, now the young day was getting lighter. He narrowed his eyes to focus better, and could see, what looked like, a large moving dark shape.

What the fuck is goin’ on?

As the shape along the road advanced and was closer, he now could see that it was a crowd of people, around thirty yards from the car, running toward the vehicle. This baffled him, and had no idea if they were people running away from danger, or they were volatile, like the man from before.

Oh, please, guys, he muttered, thinking of his friends. Stay in the car. Please, stay in the car.

He watched as the crowd neared his car, fearing the worst, but released a relieved breath out when they ran by his vehicle, apart from one. The one individual had decided to stop and stick around. The crowd continued along the Stafford Road, whilst Paul looked on in shock, and then they went by the pub and continued ahead, heading into Rugeley.

Except one.

The crowd had disappeared, past the garden centre, and were moving along the Rugeley Road, but two had dispersed from the crowd. One was by his car, where his friends and Demi were, and another, that was at the back of the crowd, had stopped running altogether. It was a female, and she seemed out of breath. She then looked up at Paul and growled like she was infected with something. She was around thirty to forty yards away, by the pub, and now was sprinting toward Paul.

Paul Newbold felt sick with nerves and quickly turned on his heels and ran like hell, heading to the house. He thought about hiding again, but wasn’t entirely sure that it would work this time.

He reached the front door of the house and started banging it. He knew it was early and that the door probably wouldn’t be opened in time and he would have to sort out the female himself, but to his delight, the door did open within seconds and Paul fell inside.

*

What’s happening? Demi cried, as all three watched Paul Newbold running. He then disappeared to the left, behind the pub, with his pursuer twenty yards behind him. Where’s Paul going?

Nobody could give her an answer.

Craig sat in the back, next to a distraught Demi, with his head lowered. Tony was in the front passenger seat and gazed at the pub where Paul had vanished behind.

"What was that? Demi continued to fire questions at the baffled young men. Why did he attack Emma? And why is he running after Paul?"

Again, nobody could give her an answer.

Tony then realised something. They were left in the middle of nowhere, in a car that didn’t belong to them, where a deranged individual was going around