Ravage: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel(49)

Annaliese took her opportunity. The crazy man had lifted his head as he came away with Bradley’s severed digits in his jaws. He was chewing the severed fingers ecstatically, even as she lifted the spike in the air and pointed it at his face.

I can’t believe I’m about to do this.

But he’s left me no choice.

She brought the spike down hard, driving it vertically into the man’s skull. The sharp metal fought against thick skull bone but quickly delved deep into the soft tissue beyond.

I just stabbed a guy in the brain…

The man’s body went stiff. His chewing stopped. Then he toppled sideways and lay still; a bloody mess on the dew-soaked grass.

Bradley shuffled away on his back, clambering as quickly as he could from his now-dead attacker. He held his injured hand out in front of him as he stumbled to his feet and went deathly pale at the sight of his missing appendages.

“Come on,” she said to him. “We need to get you some help.”

The two of them took off down the lawns towards Ripley Hall. There were several phone lines inside the manor where they could call for help. There was also plenty of comfortable space to get Bradley settled down while they waited. It would also give Annaliese the chance to find out who the hell the man she just killed was and why he had gone so completely berserk.

The manor house was lit up like a beacon in the grey haze of the early morning. Its numerous leaded windows glinted in the light of dawn and several silhouetted figures danced and shifted behind them.

Have people been partying all night? No wonder that guy was crazy. Twelve hours partying and drinking is enough to drive anybody nuts.

Annaliese had to almost drag Bradley up the steps to the front doors. He was weak from shock and leaning on her for support. “Come on,” she encouraged him. “We just need to get you inside and then you can sit down.”

She reached out with her free arm and grasped one of the door’s wrought iron handles. She pushed down on it hard and shouldered open one of the two heavy wooden doors.

The foyer inside was brightly lit by a crystal chandelier and several wall sconces but, despite all the lights, the reception area was deserted.

To Annaliese’s immediate right was Ripley Hall’s grand dining room and the kitchens beyond. To her left were the function suites and bar. Straight ahead was the winding staircase that led to the two upper floors and bedrooms.

She headed for the vacant reception desk. Behind it was the door to the front office. She tried the handle and was disheartened to find it locked.

Where is everybody?

Bradley flopped himself down on a nearby swivel chair and closed his eyes as he fought against the pain he was in. His finger stumps dripped slick trails of blood onto the floor and began forming a sticky pool on the tiles.

Annaliese banged on the office door. “Hello? Is anybody in there?”

No answer.

She turned around and put her hand on Bradley’s shoulder. “Just hold in there,” she told him.

“N-no…problem.”

She edged around the reception desk until she was back in front of it. The place seemed deserted, but she had seen people from outside through the windows.

Where the hell is Shawcross?

Shawcross was the manager of Ripley Hall. He would never allow the front desk to go unattended like this. It was always manned twenty-four hours a day.

She palmed the service bell on the reception desk and waited as its chime echoed off the walls and high ceilings.

Nobody came. Even after ringing the bell several more times.

“This is ridiculous,” she said. “Somebody always mans the front desk. Where the hell is Shawcross?”

Bradley tried to focus on her, but his eyes were red and irritated, almost like he had a bad case of hay fever. “He must be somewhere. The guy never leaves.”

“Bit like you,” Annaliese said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. Bradley looked awful and she didn’t want him going into panic.

There were noises from nearby. The sound of shuffling feet.

Annaliese peered left and right, looking at both the entrance to the function suites and the doorway leading to the dining room. “Hello?” she shouted. “Hey, we need help here.”

“I…I don’t like this,” said Bradley in a voice thick with phlegm. Annaliese examined him for a second and worried about his condition. He was losing blood, but he still seemed far worse than he should have.

The shock must really be getting to him.

Someone appeared in the arched entrance of the function suites. It was one of the maids. Annaliese could tell by the woman’s green tabard.

“Finally,” she said, stomping towards the woman. “I need to call an ambulance and get my colleague somewhere comfortable. Do you have a key to the office? I need to perform first aid immediately.”

The maid said nothing. She just stood in the doorway and stared at Annaliese.

“Hey,” she shouted. “Can you answer me, please? I’m not kidding around here. Bradley is hurt.”

Still no reply.

The maid continued to stand, staring at Annaliese curiously.

“Look, if you can’t help me, can you at least go and get Shawcross?”

The woman stepped forward and Annaliese saw the blood in her eyes.

Just like the man outside that attacked me.

The maid screeched at Annaliese and raced across the tiles.