Ghostland (Book 3): Ghostland 3 Read online

  Gavin couldn’t give Dicko an answer.

  “We need to find an abandoned supermarket or wholesalers, or something. But we also need wheels.”

  “So what are you proposing?” Grace asked.

  “Well, I haven’t said anything to Yoler yet.” Dicko looked over to his female companion and gave her a thin smile. “But the thought I had was to go out there, on foot, and try and find somewhere like what I have described.”

  “Impossible.” Gavin shook his head. “After nearly a year, there’ll be nothing left.”

  “You’ll be surprised. Don’t forget that most of the people that have died, probably got killed in the first month.”

  “You don’t know that for sure.”

  “Anyway,” Dicko ignored Gavin’s comment. “Yoler and I will walk out there, but we could be away for a few days. This is not something that we could do in a day. If we find somewhere, there’re two options. Yoler and I could try and get a set of wheels and transport the food, bit by bit, here, and then carry the stuff a mile or so to our camp. Or ... we can simply move into a new place. We have enough people to guard it from others and we have to think about the winter, when nothing grows.”

  “Winter is ages away.”

  “It’ll soon come round,” Yoler chipped in. “There’ll be no berries to pick, no vegetables to grow, and we’d be staying near a frozen pond for a good while, possibly.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.” Dicko nodded.

  “I’m up for it, Dicky Boy. When are we going?”

  “Tomorrow morning. First thing.”

  The water was now boiling in the pan and Gavin got to his feet. “Who’s up for coffee? Still got some left from that warehouse I went to.”

  Everyone apart from Grace nodded.

  Grace puffed out a breath and moaned, “I miss chocolate.”

  Yoler started to snigger and nodded. “So do I. I would love to have my iPhone for a week, get the internet back, listen to music. It’s ironic. This situation we’re in is perfect for those things, because of the boredom.”

  “What about missing family members?” Gavin asked.

  “Well, that goes without saying,” said Yoler. “I’m talking about materialistic and other things. Anyway,” she looked over at Gavin, “let’s get this coffee.”

  *

  Donald Brownstone took his boots and socks off and walked into the water, careful not to stand on anything that would hurt or injure the soles of his feet. Carrying a yellow bucket in his left hand, he waded through the water for a few more yards and dipped the bucket once the water reached just underneath his knees.

  Once the bucket was full, Donald turned and made his way back to the water’s edge. He plonked the bucket down on the ground and sat on the floor. He picked his socks up and pulled them over his soaked feet and then reached for his boots. He stood up and looked over at the cluster of trees. For old times sake he decided to go to the farm, to see how the old place was and to relive some times from last month. He didn’t care too much for Simon Washington, but he was upset by his daughter’s death that had occurred around two months ago.

  Donald left the bucket where he was and walked around the pond. He went into the cluster of trees and was out on the field. He looked up the hill from a distance and could see the burnt out farmhouse. He managed a smile and then his face dropped once a figure could be seen emerging from the side of the place, where the burnt out Mazda sat.

  Donald couldn’t quite make out if the figure was male or female and began to slowly walk across the field. He didn’t want to bring another mouth to feed for the camp, but he was intrigued to see who it was. With the individual checking out the farmhouse, Donald came to the assumption that the person was looking for a place to stay, possibly food as well. The individual didn’t look like they were carrying a bag.

  Donald’s eyes narrowed as he walked and could see that the figure was a man, but not just any man. The man in the distance turned and had spotted Donald. Donald recognised the man, despite the beard on his face, and could feel his blood boiling.

  He felt his pocket to make sure it was there and could see the man laughing. Hando had recognised Donald and began to taunt the man by waving at him. Donald was in two minds whether to go up there or not. He took a few steps forwards, but stopped when another figure appeared.

  A younger man showed up and stood next to Hando. The two males began to talk, looking in Donald’s direction, and Brownstone decided that taking on two men was too risky. Way too risky.

  He backtracked and disappeared through the cluster of trees. He hid behind one of the trees and gazed at the two figures. Donald was paranoid that the pair of them would try to follow him.

  He didn’t want Hando and his partner coming across the cabin. That would be a disaster. He looked for a few minutes and released a relieved sigh when the two males disappeared and had decided to leave the area.

  Donald looked out for a few more minutes and was satisfied that they had no intention of following him, so he began to make his way back to the cabin, looking over his shoulder every few seconds.

  Chapter Twenty

  Donald Brownstone returned to the area where he and the rest were staying. He was greeted by smiles from Grace, Gavin, Yoler and Dicko, and assumed correctly that the rest of them were in the cabin.

  He placed the bucket of water on the floor and Yoler could see by his face that something was wrong.

  “Sit down,” she said to him. “Something’s up. Tell us what’s wrong.”

  Donald seemed reluctant and looked agitated. He looked over at the cabin and scratched his head.

  “Helen and David are inside with Lisa,” Yoler said. “Is there something you wanna share with all of us?”

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head and sat down by the small fire, in-between Yoler and Dicko.

  “Come on, Donnie Boy.” Yoler nudged him playfully and said, “Spit it out.”

  “Okay.” He released a breath out and began. “I went to the pond and, for whatever reason, I went to take a look at the farm. I looked at it from afar and saw Hando.” He turned to Dicko and said, “He’s back.”

  Dicko gulped and had a quick peep at Yoler, which was noticed by Donald straightaway.

  “Shit,” he snapped under his breath with his teeth clenched, aware that Helen and the boy weren’t far away. “You two fucking knew?”

  Dicko looked over at the cabin and then quietly told Donald that he and Yoler had seen and briefly spoken to him when they were out searching for more of the dead.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he snapped.

  “The same reason you don’t want Helen and David to know. We didn’t want to upset the camp.”

  “He was with another person,” said Donald.

  “Another?” Dicko flashed Yoler a quick look. This was news to them. “He was on his own when we saw him.”

  “Yeah, well he has a little friend with him now.” Donald sighed and added, “Better hope he doesn’t come this way. I’ll kill the fucker with my bare hands.”

  “Let’s be cool,” Yoler advised. “But I think we should let Helen and Lisa know.”

  Grace nodded in agreement. “That guy and his pals raped my mum and killed my sister. I don’t think I could keep this information from her.”

  “Just make sure David doesn’t know.” Donald spoke in a hushed tone. “When Helen and David first got here, I lost count how many times that poor guy had wet himself during the night.”

  The cabin door slowly opened and Helen and Lisa Newton stepped out. Lisa was the first to walk down the steps and sat with the group. Helen’s face looked glum and Donald asked about David. Helen told him that he was napping. She shut the cabin door behind her and went over to sit next to Lisa.

  “You guys look very secretive,” Helen said. She looked at Donald and asked him what was wrong.

  Most of them dropped their heads, including Yoler and Dicko, leaving Donald to be the speaker.

  “Come on
,” Lisa Newton huffed. “Out with it. Something’s wrong. I know it.”

  Grace looked up and said to Donald Brownstone. “Just tell them, before David wakes up.”

  “Okay.” Donald ran his fingers over his face. The anxiety was clear on his face. “But you’re not gonna like it.”

  “Maybe that’s true.” Lisa folded her arms, waiting for Donald to speak further. “But speak anyway.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  They had a rucksack each on their backs, but all that was in them were two jars of water each. Yoler and Dicko said their farewells to the group and made their way onto the main road. They decided to visit the village once again, check out the houses, and then go elsewhere to find something that could benefit the group.

  Their walk to the village was quiet and they were in two minds whether to go at all because of Hando now being spotted twice, but Donald insisted that he could handle Hando on his own, if he really had to.

  They reached the village and could see the pub that they were trapped in only the day before. They looked around and were thankful that there were no dead about, and began to walk by the pub and down the main road.

  Dicko and Yoler had passed the small primary school and looked to the houses that were on their left.

  “Maybe we should check out these places on the way back,” Yoler suggested.

  Dicko nodded. “We could do.”

  “I don’t want to walk too far. We could end up getting lost.”

  “Well, if this takes longer than we think, then we’ll have plenty of places to sleep.” Dicko pointed at the houses to their left.

  “And how do you know people aren’t in there?”

  “After nearly a year?” Dicko widened his eyes and asked Yoler, “Can you see a single car in this street?”

  Yoler shook her head.

  “So what does that tell you?”

  “You don’t have to be patronising, Dicky Boy.” Yoler began to laugh and rested her left hand on top of the handle of her machete. “There could still be people inside ... or the dead that are trapped in their rooms.”

  They gazed at the houses as they continued their stroll. Predictably, the front lawns were overgrown, weeds covered the drives, and some windows were smashed, doors broken open, but a couple of houses looked to be untouched.

  “Can’t see a single body,” Yoler murmured.

  “Maybe somebody cleared up,” Dicko said. “In my old camp, we used to have a habit of dragging bodies to the side of the road so that it didn’t block our way, as well as others, whenever we needed to go out on runs.”

  “That was very thoughtful of you,” Yoler mocked. “I bet you used to put the toilet seat down when you were with your wife, didn’t you?”

  “Cheeky bitch,” Dicko laughed. “Anyway, you don’t really see many vehicles these days, do you?”

  “The petrol has to run out sooner or later.”

  They walked for a further ten minutes and were now out of the village and on another country road, but there were no trees to either side of them this time. Overgrown and neglected fields were at either side of them and they could see an abandoned tractor at the side of the road, further up.

  “Ever been this way before?” Yoler asked her male companion.

  Dicko shook his head and pointed up ahead, in the direction of the tractor. “Wanna check it out?”

  “Why? Even if it was working, those things are too bloody slow anyway, and the noise... You’d end up with a herd of Canavars behind you if you drove that thing.”

  “I’ll take that as a no then.”

  The country road bended to the left and once it was cleared, it straightened up and declined and they could see another small village in the distance. But what caught their eye was a white delivery van that looked to be abandoned.

  “There won’t be anything inside,” Yoler said before Dicko could get his hopes up.

  “You never know.”

  “I bet you a handjob there’s nothing inside.”

  Dicko looked at Yoler and smiled. He held out his hand and she shook it. “Done.”

  They approached the van and could see it was a food delivery van from a big supermarket chain. The doors were shut, it was parked properly, and there was no sign of damage to the van.

  Dicko went to the driver’s side and had a look in. He gazed to the side and said to his female companion, “Take a look.”

  Yoler stood next to Dicko and looked into the vehicle. There were two Canavars in the van. Both driver and passenger still had their seatbelts on and Dicko couldn’t work out what had happened. Had they both been bitten all those months ago and tried to flee in the van, only to pull over because they were both feeling unwell? It was hard to work out, but they were there and they must have turned in the early days as they were badly decomposed, but still moving.

  Yoler left Dicko’s side and tried to open the back of the van.

  “It’s locked,” she said.

  “And I know where the keys are.” Dicko flashed Yoler a smile and pointed inside the van.

  “Where?” She returned at Dicko’s side and looked in.

  The keys to the van were still in the ignition and they were both convinced that the key to the back of the van was attached to the chain.

  “Even if there’s nothing in the back,” Dicko began and added, “we can still take it back to the camp, if there’s fuel still left. Just need to get rid of those freaks first.”

  “Ready when you are.” Yoler pulled out her machete and tried the door handle, expecting it to be locked, but both were surprised when it opened.

  The door being opened alerted both rotten Canavars who wriggled and squirmed in their seats, reaching out to grab Yoler Sanders and tear her to bloody pieces. Dicko went round the other side and opened the passenger door, sticking his knife into the skull of the thing straightaway. Yoler rammed her large blade under the chin of the former driver, the blade going in deeply, and removed it, wiping the dark congealed blood on its worn work attire. Dicko leaned over his kill and unbuckled the seatbelt, and dragged the body out by its boots. Yoler did the same, then leaned in again and took the keys that were dangling from the ignition.

  She shook the keys and looked across at Dicko, who was standing by the opened passenger door, trying to get his breath back, and said, “Gonna see if one of these keys are for the back. But first...” He studied the key twice and smiled when it was clear on the dial that the tank was half full. “Perfect. We have gas.”

  Dicko went round the back of the van to meet Yoler. She took the keys off Dicko and looked at the keyring that had five different keys on it and tried the lock. Two keys and two tries later, the van’s doors clicked open and the two stared at one another, reluctant to open the doors.

  “You want me...?” Dicko grabbed the handles and Yoler stood back with her machete drawn.

  He pulled the doors open and jumped back half a yard, but his defensive behaviour wasn’t needed.

  The two looked on open mouthed and it took a few seconds for either of them to speak.

  “This must be a dream,” Dicko spoke with amazement in his tone.

  “How is that actually possible?” said Yoler. “After all this time, how is it possible?”

  “Who gives a fuck?” Dicko pulled his t-shirt over his face. The stench was from the rotten fruit and meat, but it was the sight of the tins that had made the pair of them smile. There were twelve pre-packed open boxes of groceries and other accessories, and tins could be seen in some of them.

  “I’m gonna do a stock count,” Dicko said. Yoler remained where she was as Dicko grabbed a few made up empty boxes that were sitting in the corner of the van.

  Dicko put out four empty boxes and began taking tins out of the twelve boxes, leaving the rotten fruit where it was. It wasn’t just tins, there were also bottles of soda and a smiled stretched over Dicko’s face when his eyes clocked a bottle of Jamesons’ whiskey.

  “I don’t think we’ll need to stay overnight,” D
icko said. “I’m guessing that it’s early afternoon, but I think we should anyway.”

  “Why?” Yoler scoffed. “Because you want that handjob where there’s nobody about?”

  “Well, that as well,” he began to snigger and held up the bottle of whiskey. “But I want to neck this, alone, in a place that is more secure than some cabin.”

  “Okay. We’ll drive the van to one of the houses in that first village we passed and stay there. Be nice to have a night away from the camp and stay in an actual bed. I don’t know why we can’t just stay in one of the houses anyway.”

  “Because Donald is paranoid about the dead and other humans.” Dicko cleared his throat and added, “I suppose what happened at the farmhouse kind of confirms that he has a point, but those woods are doing my head in.”

  “So what’s the plan?” Yoler asked.

  “We’re taking these tins and bottles with us, throw out the boxes with the rotten stuff, get a house for the night, and enjoy ourselves for once. We’ll just tell them that we had to search for a while before coming across the van.”

  “I can live with telling them that, Dicky Boy. Ready when you are.”

  Chapter Twenty Two

  The van entered the village and Dicko informed Yoler that they were going to try and find a decent place to stay. When he said decent, he meant a place where there was no carnage. Just thinking about sleeping on a mattress for the first time in a while made the man smile, and he told Yoler that when they headed back the next day, they were going to throw a few mattresses in the back for the cabin.

  They pulled along the desolate road and Dicko pointed at a house four doors down that he wanted to try. He didn’t want to park the vehicle outside the house where they were staying, just in case they came across unwanted visitors.

  “I’ll check the house out,” Dicko said. “If it’s fine, we’ll leave the van where it is and move the food inside in case someone breaks into it while we’re asleep.”

  “Okay,” was all that Yoler managed and threw her head back. She was getting tired.