The Turned: A Horror Novella Read online

  From now on, wherever Gunny Trautman went, his twin bodyguards would be at his side. Even though he considered it overkill, the veteran couldn’t criticise the boys for being keen.

  Harry took over the guard from Mrs Bridge, she and the ballerina now inseparable, wanting the two to get some rest. He still felt uneasy having the little girl as part of his pack, but his protective instincts knew she had to stay. Harry also wanted to get everyone up and ready as soon as the sun started to dip. He also wanted to check on his newest recruits.

  They had sneaked into the entrance as the sun came up, Harry’s diligence in appointing guards paying off as the whole wolf pack sprang into action as Garcia and William started clicking out a distress call. Harry managed to reach the new vampires before the others ripped them apart, hissing for calm.

  He sniffed them, three young women in their early twenties, knowing his wolf pack needed more numbers. Harry nodded to the others as he let the girls enter, leaving William to type out the rules of entry into the club.

  As he roused them from their slumber, the three immediately bowed their respect to Harry, grateful for the safety of the group. Then he woke the others, preparing them for their mission as the night descended. Harry wanted to communicate without the iPad, knowing it wasn’t a viable long term solution. He lit a fire, using its light to show the plan he was drawing out on the dirt floor.

  Just mapping out a battle plan took Harry back to his youth, making him salivate in anticipation of good combat and fresh blood. The pack looked spellbound as he drew out the town of Silchester, dragging a twig through the black earth as he mapped out their target and how to take it effectively.

  They would probe the perimeter of Silchester, testing to see where the anticipated defences were. Harry had already adapted his tactical brain to think like a vampire and not a marine with a gun. He was going to coordinate lightning guerrilla strikes on all sides, probing and harassing the enemy until their weakest points were known.

  Then they would attack on mass, taking one part of the town at a time, feeding as they went. As the wolf pack studied the plans, now with the three girls as equal members, they all took it in. Harry explained it all with throat clicks, pointing with his stick and demonstrating with his clawed hands. His audience nodded and clicked their apparent understanding.

  But Harry knew the importance of prepping for battle, so he pointed to each of his wolves, showing each one where they would be on the plan. Then they were ready to go. The night had come and so they made for the entrance, with the head of the wolf pack leading.

  As they stepped out into the cool night, twinkling under a star filled sky, the Jix twins rushed forward as another group of vampires approached them, shielding Harry with their massive bodies. Garcia and Urwin rushed the first one, knocking him to the ground, only to stop as Harry hissed loudly. They instantly drew back as their visitor picked himself up.

  Harry pushed past the twins to see what they were dealing with. Four infected were stood back to back as his wolves surrounded them. They were dressed in lumberjack shirts, jeans, and steel-toe-capped boots, and all three carried the grime of manual labour on their faces. They had to be from the Silchester Steel Works, recently turned but obviously healthy.

  The wolf pack was poised and one word from Harry would see them tear the four steel workers apart. But Harry knew he was still lacking numbers. Another four troops would take his wolf pack to twenty, large enough to mount an aggressive attack, small enough to command effectively. It all hung on Gunny Trautman’s next move.

  But he’d already decided. Four strong, healthy vampires was something he couldn’t turn down. He quickly ushered them all back inside for an updated briefing, William showing the newbies the rules with the iPad as Harry hastily redrew his plans.

  Once the new plan was briefed, Harry looked the four steel workers each in the eye, making sure each knew who was in charge. Then he took the device from William, typing two words.

  NO MORE

  They all nodded, knowing their wolf pack was complete. All and everyone would now be treated with extreme prejudice.

  17

  Harry looked at the iPad’s screen as they made their way through the trees to Silchester. Its battery was low but Harry felt he didn’t need the device anymore. He threw it like a frisbee, watching as the iPad smashed against a tree. William looked at him but Harry just smiled as he gave a talon thumbs-up, trying to reassure the ex-tech head everything would be okay.

  The leader of the wolf pack was keeping an eye on the four steel workers, purposely spreading them out amongst the others, but they seemed to be gelling just fine. As he was watching a Clucker stumbled out of the bushes, hissing and snapping as it moved on the ballerina.

  Mrs Bridge pulled the girl back as Garcia rushed over, but she was too late. One of the new girls pounced on the Clucker as a steel worker joined her, the two efficiently slashing it to death with their talons. They left the body on the ground as they both fell back into line, with a smiling Mrs Bridge clicking her throat in thanks.

  Excellent, Harry thought to himself. They’re already watching each other’s backs. I think we’ll do just fine.

  As they drew nearer to their target, Harry signalled for stealth. The wolf pack slowed, using the trees for cover as they got their first look at the town of Silchester. With a population of just under ten thousand, Silchester was smaller than Brentwood, and far more affluent but, crucially for Gunny Trautman, it had been hit later by the virus, and so had a greater number of uninfected left.

  Some of them had fled, but a greater number had stayed, convinced their gated lavish homes could protect them. But now those homes had become like prisons, trapping those within who had left it too late to flee.

  Harry eased his troops forward, seeing the excitement in all of them at the multitude of lights dotted across the town. He motioned for the pack to stop as he walked forward with the twins. Standing on the edge of a ploughed field as he scanned his target, Harry wondered if the residents of Silchester had even bothered to put up any defences at all.

  This is gonna be too damned easy, Harry thought to himself with a smile on his face, just as a .50 calibre bullet smashed into the centre of his chest.

  The exploding bullet blew a hole clean through Gunny Trautman, taking his ribs, heart and a section of his spinal column with it. Harry stayed on his feet for a second, bizarrely registering what an excellent shot had killed him. The wolf pack leader stayed that way for a moment longer before he swayed and pitched forward, dead before he hit the ground.

  The Jix twins tried to pick him up, not realising, or wanting to know, their hero was gone. As the dungaree clad twin leant over Harry his head disappeared by the expert delivery of another exploding .50 bullet. The second twin looked up, only to be blown back off his feet as a third round slammed in just under his windpipe, taking his head as well.

  A chorus of panicked clicking came from the trees as the wolf pack saw their leader killed. Garcia and Urwin rushed forward, neither clearing the treeline before they too were cut down by the invisible lethal sharp-shooter.

  The crisp discipline that Gunny Trautman had forged within his wolf pack died with him. They bolted in all directions, some back into the forest, some clambered up into the trees, whilst some took their chances and sprinted towards the town, just as more gunfire filled the air.

  18

  His name was Billy May, and his name had become legend. As the ace defender of Silchester searched out more targets with his scope, laying down on the flat roof of All Guns ’N’ Ammo, Billy wondered at the bizarre circumstances life kept throwing up for him. He had been tracking the group of infected for the last twenty minutes, realising they were different from the other groups he had taken down.

  They were well organised and, the most troubling aspect, clearly under the command of a military man, the white haired veteran donned in his uniform with more medal braid than Billy had ever seen. Taking the man down was necessary but not satis
fying, especially as Billy recognised Gunny Trautman from a past life.

  But Billy May wasn’t some Special Forces supremo, or a brave police officer defending his town. He wasn’t even a concerned citizen, paying his taxes and striving to better himself.

  Billy May was a recovering alcoholic, and the recovering part had only been since people started turning into vampires. Whereas everyone else considered the terrifying pandemic as the end to life as they knew it, for Billy it was just the shock he needed to get him straight.

  Maybe if there wasn’t something in him that wanted to turn sober, Billy would still be welded to a bottle, or dead. But the thirty two year old had fallen so far from the man he had hoped to be, that to claw back some of the old him from the clutches of disaster felt like he had been reborn.

  Some men ran from adversity, whilst others embraced it. And Billy had put both arms, shaking from his body detoxing, around the challenge to stand his ground and fight the threat. It would be a valiant effort for anyone, to run into the flames as others fled, as many people were doing.

  But Billy’s efforts in the resistance against the vampires had already cemented him into history, because Billy May had a gift. It was a skill that even thirteen years of hard drinking couldn’t destroy, such was Billy’s prowess in his speciality. A speciality that was now saving as many lives as it was taking, because Billy was a born rifleman.

  Many could shoot, but a rifle in the hands of Silchester’s most prolific, although now very sober, drunk, was like a surgical instrument, cutting out the vampiric cancer invading the land.

  It was a natural thing, Billy hitting the bulls-eye as soon as he could walk. By the time he was twelve years old Billy was state champion, with the only way up. At fourteen he won the junior national title, accepting the title with the applause of the crowd ringing in his ears.

  Billy had tried to block out those golden years as to remember the happy times would only make him realise just how badly it had all gone so wrong. But lying down on his two storey vantage point which, as the store proudly proclaimed, ensured he had enough guns and ammo to see off several battalions of the infected, Billy had a memory spring into his head from that time, seeing a ghost from his past.

  The hair and neatly clipped moustache were now white, and the wrinkles of age were clear to see, as was the effects of his turning. But Billy never forgot a face, and it was the face of Gunny Trautman.

  Their first meeting had been at the event where Billy won the national title. Gunny Trautman had been one of the safety officers, standing over the youngsters to make sure the bullets only went into targets and not people. At the party afterwards the veteran introduced himself to Billy and his dad, congratulating the young man on his extraordinary marksmanship, and Billy had never forgotten the words that followed.

  ‘There’s an organisation called the United States Marines, young fella, and I just know a fine youth like yourself would do well in such an outfit’.

  Billy had never even considered the military before, but to have a veteran like the Gunnery Sergeant think he was good enough made Billy’s mind up that was what he wanted to do. Gunny Trautman had given him his card, telling the young shooting whizz to let him know when he was old enough to apply so that he could point him in the right direction.

  It never happened, and the nationals was the last competition Billy won. His parents divorced a month after he had picked up his trophy, and Billy went to live with his dad. But being a single parent meant no time for days out shooting, and Billy found other interests.

  He left school and drifted from one job to another, still carrying Gunny Trautman’s card in his wallet, but never calling him. Then Billy discovered booze, and not too long after that he got acquainted with pot as well.

  His dad had remarried and was going to another state to join his new wife and wanted the eighteen year old Billy to go with him, but the ex-shooting champ bailed out. Soon, work stopped completely and with no money to pay the rent, Billy ended up on the streets, and that’s where he’d been ever since.

  He wasn’t a bad man, and certainly wasn’t a violent drunk, only putting himself at risk. Billy just liked being drunk. He liked the oblivion of it all, leaving his worries behind as the alcohol wrapped its familiar arms around him.

  The years drifted by, with Billy becoming a regular in the doorways and park benches of Silchester, drinking his life away. He got word that his dad had died, and Billy lost contact with his mother. Being an only child meant he was now on his own. He was hurting inside, but the only thing that made Billy feel better, was the thing that had destroyed his life.

  Then the virus hit. Billy had been on a particular rigorous drinking session at the time, passing out drunk every day for a week in the woods. When he finally ran dry the munchies kicked in, and Billy made his way back into Silchester in search of any clean bin that might have offered a half-eaten burger in it.

  He hadn’t even noticed the National Guard units pulling out of town, not even registering they had been there in the first place. Even then he still went about his half-intoxicated business, prioritising scavenging for food, wherever it may be. Knowing the best places to find sustenance, Billy headed to his favourite Chinese restaurant at midnight, still not registering the screams and gunfire, as he knew the trash was soon to be thrown out, no doubt offering a hearty meal of discarded leftovers.

  Bingo! As soon as the bags hit the dumpster Billy was ankle deep in chicken chow mein and stir-fried rice, all of it still warm. But still the committed alcoholic was oblivious to the vampires roaming the night streets of Silchester. Just as Billy was marvelling at how a whole crop of spring rolls could survive being junked, a dishwasher from the restaurant jumped into the dumpster with him.

  The young man didn’t speak a word of English but, as Billy paused his feast, he needed no translation to see that his visitor was petrified of something outside, babbling incoherently to the homeless diner as he pointed to the street.

  Billy stood up, still chewing whilst at the same time realising just how bad the dumpster stank as he looked out, right at the exact time a volley of shots blasted from somewhere. He dropped the roll, cursing as he ducked. Billy had stood back up as a National Guardsman dropped his rifle and ran. Then he saw what all the commotion was about, finally witnessing the thing that everyone else was desperately trying to defend against.

  A group of infected were feasting on the restaurant owner. Billy had watched, his mouth dropping open as the woman’s blood spurt out from the infected clambering over her. Something took him over, making Billy jump down from the dumpster before he even knew what he was doing. Then his eyes fell on the M4 assault rifle that the soldier had left behind.

  The moment his hands gripped the weapon Billy was transported to another place, and another him. The man he should have been. He didn’t care who the people attacking the defenceless female were, or cared. He also didn’t care of the consequences of taking the law into his hands to save her. Whatever the consequences, Billy May was going to finally be the man that Gunny Trautman had seen he could be.

  He had never handled an M4, but Billy knew it was more or less an updated and compact version of the M16 he had fired as a youth, and taking charge of the rifle felt cosmic, ending his drinking career on the spot. But the infected were joined by more, now seeing another meal in the homeless drunk who had just emerged from the dumpster.

  Checking the safety was off, Billy shouldered the M4, and returned to the craft he had been born for.

  BANG, BANG, BANG!!!

  He took out all three of the vampires feasting on the restaurant owner with a perfect head shot to each, before crouching to one knee in order to neutralise the others. Sensing the enemy in their midst the group of infected charged Billy.

  BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG . . .!

  And on it went until a mini-pyramid of deceased infected were stacked up at the rear of Billy’s favourite eatery. Every shot he fired had found its target, with not a single round goi
ng rogue. As Silchester’s Sheriff had rounded the corner, scanning with his shotgun, Billy had laid down the rifle and raised his hands, totally oblivious as to the reasons for the madness he had stumbled into.

  He and Sheriff Vince were old acquaintances, the Sheriff having been an occasional landlord for Billy when he had been locked up for being a little too drunk.

  ‘Lower your hands, Billy,’ Sheriff Vince had drawled as he looked over the bodies, noticing the expert marksmanship that had dispatched each one.

  ‘Pardon me, Sheriff, sir,’ a shaken Billy had replied. ‘But what the hell is going on!’

  ‘Well, Billy,’ Sheriff Vince answered, ‘you just got yourself deputised.’

  It had been a steep learning curve, helped by the fact Billy had suddenly become tea-total, and hindered by the withdrawal shakes that went with it. But, put a rifle in Billy May’s hands, and he was still a dead-shot, shakes or not.

  Fully briefed and freaked out, Billy went to work. He got his all-time record a week into his new job, dropping over a hundred infected in one night. They had made their way from the Silchester Saw Mill, the town’s second biggest employer, attacking in one night, wave after wave of them, charging straight into the sights of Bill May, and turning him into a legend.

  A week later Sheriff Vince and all his Deputies had been devoured when they got caught in an ambush. Once word spread that the official law were all dead, most of Billy’s fellow conscripts left, but not the ex-boy wonder. He had finally found his calling. The virus was like something sent by the Devil himself, but it was the thing that saved Bill May.

  ‘You’re not gonna leave us, are you, Billy?’ a young mother had called to him as she watched the other defenders pack up and leave, clutching her toddler’s hand.

  ‘No,’ Billy replied, resting the butt of his sniper rifle on his hip. ‘I’m right where I need to be.’