Deadhead, p.15
Deadhead, page 15
Garret clawed at the biker with his free hand. By stretching out he managed to scratch his fingers down the other man’s arm. The bald man recoiled and slammed into the rear door of the van, trying to make himself as small as possible. Not easy when you are the size of a bear.
The biker banged his fist on the closed door, keeping his eyes fixed on Garret. “Let me out of here,” he shrieked.
“Sure,” Garret heard Cadence say from the other side of the door. “As soon as you tell me who you work for and where I can find him.”
There was a pause then the policewoman added. “Gosh I hope that handcuff holds. His flesh is pretty rotten so that hand could just tear right off.”
Garret decided to adlib for effect.
“Brrrraaaiiiins,” he growled in his most demonic voice then gave a spluttering cough. Greenish, yellow spittle erupted from his mouth like a shower of pus. Even Garret was a little revolted but tried not to show it.
“Eat your brains,” he added for good measure, as he surged forward.
This was too much for the biker; he kicked and punched the van door. “All right, okay, I’ll tell you everything. Just get me out of here.”
The door remained closed for several long seconds. Cadence was obviously letting the man suffer. Garret hoped she wouldn’t take too long. Acting like a real zombie was tiring him out. He wanted to sit down and have a rest.
The van door finally opened and the flailing biker pitched out, falling heavily onto the grass. Cadence closed the door and Garret was again sealed in the rear of the vehicle. He sat down with some relief. He could hear the panic-stricken biker talking to Cadence outside and while Garret couldn’t hear his exact words, he knew the terrified man was telling her everything he knew.
Chapter Fifteen
As soon as Lerns finished talking, Cadence handcuffed him to a rail in the passenger seat of the van. She found an old cleaning rag to use as a blindfold and covered his eyes. There was no complaint from the biker. He had obviously decided that anything was better than being in the back with Garret. Once he was secured she called a group conference.
Spencer and Regan joined her and Garret in the rear of the vehicle to discuss their next course of action. They faced a dilemma. What to do with the captured man?
They couldn’t leave him at the Death’s Disciples headquarters because if the Undertaker’s threat was real – and they had no reason to believe it wasn’t – then Lerns was a dead man. As much as they disliked him they wouldn’t leave him to be killed.
Dropping him at Cadence’s house was out because the Undertaker might use his police contacts to find her address. Garret’s old house was being sold so was often full of real estate agents and prospective buyers. The lock-up where he kept his car was a possibility but several of his siblings had keys and could check it at any time. And police cells were too risky, given the Undertaker’s influence within the department.
Spencer came up with a temporary answer. They could keep the biker in his mum’s basement until the Undertaker was out of action for good. His mother would be working late and never went down there. It was also soundproofed and certainly wouldn’t be on the crime overlord’s radar. Cadence and Garret agreed this was the best course of action.
Once that was decided, Cadence removed a sharp knife from the rear of the van and walked over to the remaining bike gang members. She gave them two choices. They could either forget what had happened or she could call for back up and search their premises for drugs and stolen goods. Unsurprisingly, they chose the first option.
As Cadence drove away she threw the knife towards the tied up Death’s Disciples members so they could cut off the plastic cuffs. She was aiming for the ground between the fat biker and the red head. Unfortunately, her throw was off and the knife embedded itself in the obese man’s thigh. He screamed like a little girl. Cadence gave a shrug. “You’d think a biker would be tougher,” was all she said.
When they arrived at Spencer’s home the boy checked that his mother was out then he and Regan helped Cadence lead the cuffed and blindfolded man to the basement. Garret stayed in the vehicle, out of sight.
Once downstairs, Cadence poked Lerns with the barrel of her handgun and reminded him not to try anything. The big man was very subdued, suffering from a combination of excessive alcohol and shock. Cadence unlocked the cuff on the biker’s left hand, leaving the right one still locked around his wrist. She re-locked the second cuff through a link in a sturdy length of chain that Spencer had secured to a large timber beam in the basement. Lerns would be able to move around a little but not escape. Spencer and Regan dragged a chair over to where the man was chained and then Cadence removed his blindfold. The big, bald thug blinked and looked around.
“Where am I?” he asked, still slurring slightly.
“Somewhere safe,” said Cadence. She tucked her handgun back in its holster on her hip. “You’ll only be here for a few days, just long enough for us the lock up your boss and dismantle his operation.”
Lerns snorted. “In a few days you’ll be dead.” He looked at Spencer and Regan. “Who’re the kids?”
Cadence replied. “You don’t need to know. Just keep quiet and don’t try to escape. I’ll make sure the Undertaker and the zombie don’t get you.”
“That cop drowned. I saw him. It’s not right, dead dudes should stay dead.” Lerns gave an involuntary shake. “What if Penk comes back to life?”
Cadence shook her head. “You needn’t worry about that. There are things going on you couldn’t possibly understand but it’ll be over soon. When it is, I’ll get you out of the city.”
“Why would I trust you?” said the biker, eyeing Cadence with suspicion. “The last time we met you wanted to put me in prison.”
Cadence shrugged. “Things have changed. You’re not my top priority anymore.”
The policewoman caught Spencer and Regan’s eye and they all headed for the door.
“Got any booze?” called the biker.
Cadence shook her head. “You need to sober up. I’ll bring you some food later.”
The policewoman noticed a stack of old scientific magazines that lay in a box by the entrance to the garage. She picked up a couple of issues and threw them to Lerns. “Here read these. You might learn something.”
She chose to ignore the biker’s extended finger as she and the kids left the basement.
They walked upstairs and met Garret in the kitchen.
The undead cop had been instructed to wait in the van until the coast was clear then sneak into the house.
“What next?” asked Spencer when they were back together.
Cadence rubbed her forehead and brushed her hair back with her hands. “Lerns didn’t know the Undertaker’s real name but said his headquarters were in an abandoned hospital on the outskirts of town.”
Garret raised an eyebrow. “And you believe him?”
“Yeah, he was too scared to lie.” She gave Garret a rare half smile. “Good acting by the way. ‘I want to eat your brrrraaaaiiins’ was a nice touch.”
The dead cop gave a small curtsey. “I knew watching all those zombie movies would pay off one day. I just didn’t think it’d be like this.”
“There can’t be too many abandoned hospitals around,” Cadence continued, “I’ll get on one of the police computers and see what I can find.”
She looked at the teenage girl standing beside her. “You can give me a hand if you want Regan. See what police work is all about.”
“Oh god,” groaned her ex-partner. “You’re not trying to recruit her, are you?”
Cadence heard Spencer laugh. “What? Regan? No way.”
“Why not?” snapped the girl. “I could do it.”
Cadence noticed that Spencer was surprised by his friend’s reaction. “Of course you could,” he said hastily. “I just didn’t think you’d want to.”
“You don’t know what I want,” the girl retorted before replying to Cadence. “I’d love to help.”
Garret spoke to Spencer. “Right, well, while the girls are off doing police work you and I can go round to my old place. I’ve got a few bits and pieces stashed away that might come in useful.”
“Cool,” the kid replied, clearly liking the sound of Garret’s plan.
Cadence wasn’t so keen. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she said. “We want to do this through legal channels, if we can.”
Her ex-partner gave a big smile which was nowhere near as impressive as it used to be. “Absolutely,” the dead cop said. “No harm being prepared though is there?”
Cadence didn’t respond. She had reservations about Garret’s idea of preparing.
• • •
Spencer and Garret were dropped off at Cadence’s house to retrieve the Range Rover, which Spencer then drove round to Garret’s old place.
Spencer thoroughly enjoyed driving Garret’s car. The Rover was much cooler than his mum’s Honda Civic. Garret sat in the back, hidden from public view by the blacked out glass.
Spencer quickly discovered that the cop was a back seat driver. As soon as he tweaked the accelerator he felt a hand on his seat rest as Garret pulled himself forward.
“Slow down,” ordered the cop. “You’re obviously underage so we can’t afford to get pulled over.”
Spencer gave a wry chuckle. “That would be interesting. Cop would take one look at you and run for it.”
There was a mutter from the back seat. “Or shoot me. That seems the thing to do at the moment.”
Spencer felt Garret tap him on the shoulder. The dead cop pointed to a street sign on his right. “Go down there.”
Spencer turned the vehicle into the side road and realised they were heading towards a less populated part of the city. They weren’t exactly in the country but were no longer surrounded by in-fill housing. The sections were bigger and the odd garden plot and fenced paddock began to appear.
“Keep going. Another couple of k’s on the left,” Garret said from behind him. “Number 147. Green house, white roof. For Sale sign outside. We’ll have to look for the spare key when we arrive. They took all my personal items when they buried me.”
A large brown hawk was clawing at the carcass of a recently killed rodent on the road ahead. It watched the approaching Range Rover with disdain, playing chicken with the two ton vehicle. For a moment, Spencer thought the bird wasn’t going to move but at the last moment the hawk took flight. It lifted effortlessly into the air, easily passing over the roof of the four wheel drive and landed on a nearby stone wall.
Spencer looked at the numbers of the houses as they passed. Number 131 was a cute plaster cottage with a weather beaten roof. A white picket fence ran along the front of the property. Roses climbed up the wood adding splashes of pink to the fence line.
“Nice area,” commented Spencer.
“Not where I would have picked,” said Garret. “I wanted to be in the city but my grandmother left me this place so, you know, it was free.”
Spencer saw the For Sale sign ahead. It was mounted on a single grey post and hammered into a recently mown lawn at the front of Garret’s section. Spencer pulled up beside the sign and studied the house. It was a large, two story, wooden farmhouse, with a veranda which spanned the front and right hand side of the building. The house looked as though it had been freshly painted and a paved driveway cut through a generously proportioned lawn which was peppered with fruit trees and shrubs. A sprawling oak tree dominated the left hand side of the property, its spreading branches heavy with thick, dark green leaves.
Spencer gave a low whistle. “This place must be worth a fortune.”
“Fat lot of good that’ll do me now,” he grumbled. “I’ll bet my brother put it on the market before they’d chucked the last spade-full of dirt over my coffin. And he’ll be asking way too much for it, which is why it hasn’t sold yet.”
Spencer turned into the driveway and drove slowly up to the house. He switched the engine off and looked into the back seat. The windows were so heavily tinted and the upholstery so black that he could barely see his zombified passenger. “Don’t you get on with your brother?”
“Not really. He and my sister are older than me. Mum had me late and dad died when I was really young. Heart attack. My siblings said dad’s heart gave out because he was always running around after me. That was rubbish. They were just jealous because I got more attention than them.”
“Horrible thing to say though.” Spencer turned around in his seat. “Will you see any of them while you’re …” he searched for the right words and decided there weren’t any. “… you know?”
“Mostly dead,” Garret finished for him. “Ha, it’d almost be worth it to scare the crap out of them but no. Mum’s a bit vague now so this would only confuse and frighten her and she’s the only one of my family I’d want to see.” He let out a long slow breath. “Looks like there’s no-one around so let’s get what we came for and leave.” The back door of the car opened and Spencer was aware that Garret had exited before he had even removed his seatbelt.
Spencer scrambled and joined Garret on the veranda where the cop was lifting up a series of plant pots and looking under them. He was obviously trying to find the key to the house. Spencer watched Garret as he went from pot to pot. The dead man’s movements had become more ragged and were accompanied by an increasing number of spasms and tremors.
Spencer grew concerned. “Are you okay?”
“Seriously?” replied Garret.
“You know what I mean. Are you getting worse?”
The zombie cop stopped what he was doing and sat down heavily onto the veranda. He nodded. “I’m tired and sore. The pain wasn’t there at first but it is now. Everything hurts and it’s getting harder to coordinate my limbs. I think I’m breaking down.”
Spencer sat beside him.
“You probably just need a rest,” he said reassuringly. “When we’ve finished here I’ll take you back to my place and run a diagnostic on you while you sleep. On a positive note, if you’re feeling pain it means your central nervous system is working. If I can think of a way to safely replace your fluid with blood I might be able to get you functioning normally again.”
Spencer felt a pat on his shoulder then Garret spoke. “Thanks kid but we both know this body’s beyond repair. Just keep me going until we get rid of the Undertaker and I’ll be happy.”
“Don’t give up so easily,” replied Spencer. “You’d be amazed at the abuse the human body can take and survive. Take a rest, I’ll find the key.” Spencer saw Garret give a grateful nod and relax. Spencer hopped into a crouch and moved to the next flowerpot. He located the front door key hidden under a small pot of basil. He handed the key to Garret, helped him to his feet and then followed the cop into the house.
The interior was as neat as a pin. Spencer heard Garret snort. “This isn’t how I left it. They must have got in cleaners.”
Spencer followed the dead cop down a long hallway toward the rear of the house. Hanging on the walls was a series of photographs. He glanced at them as he passed and was struck by one thing. They all featured Cadence and most had been taken when she wasn’t looking. Garret had shots of her examining crime scenes, driving police vehicles, at martial arts training. There were also several artistic photographs of her off duty, on a picnic with Garret. The pictures were beautifully composed with sharp, clear focus and had placed in simple, elegant frames.
“Great photos,” said Spencer.
It was hard to tell, due to the severe mottling of his skin but Spencer believed Garret was blushing. “Photography was a hobby of mine,” he mumbled.
“Lovely subject too,” he said cheekily, the beginnings of a smile turning up the corners of his mouth.
The dead cop carried on down the hallway. “Come on,” Garret said gruffly. “We’ve got work to do.”
They stopped a few minutes later in front of a door at the end of the hallway. Garret opened it and walked behind him, descending a flight of stairs into a gloomy cellar. The cop flicked a switch on the wall and the room lit up. It was a big space with a bare concrete floor and nothing in the way of furnishings. It was clearly used as a storage area and an array of boxes sat against the walls.
Spencer watched as Garret walked straight over to a support beam which rested on a small, flat, decorative footing. The dead cop turned the base clockwise and a six by three panel on the wall behind the beam clicked open, revealing a hidden compartment. Spencer saw Garret wave him over. “You’re going to like this,” he said.
Spencer moved closer and looked inside the compartment. It was a metal gun safe. A combination lock sat above a y shaped rotating door handle.
Spencer watched as the policeman turned the combination lock back and forth until it gave a satisfying click. Garret spun the handle and the heavy door swung open. The dead cop then shuffled aside so Spencer could see inside.
His eyes widened. The contents of the safe were wonderland of weaponry. There were several assault rifles, a sniper rifle, two shotguns – a short barrel and a long barrel - what looked like a grenade launcher, a selection of handguns including several automatic pistols and a weapon Spencer couldn’t immediately recognise.
“Is that a flame thrower?” he asked.
Garret grinned. “Sure is. I’m a collector.”
“Coooool”
Spencer leant in as Garret stepped toward the safe and opened a slim metal drawer. Nestled in individual foam compartments were a selection of grenades. “Smoke, incendiary, flash, stun and blast,” He said proudly.
