The Creeping Void: Terror on the Highlands (AFTER: A POST-APOCALYPTIC SURVIVOR SERIES) by Tim Mendees

Author:Tim Mendees [Mendees, Tim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Eerie River Publishing
Published: 2021-06-25T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 4

Unhallowed Ground

Night had fallen by the time they reached the crumbling stone wall that surrounded the graveyard. The ghouls could not be far behind, and they had no choice but to go through the crumbling churchyard. Avoiding the sick-looking ivy that clung stubbornly to the masonry, Viking boosted Mary over the wall before clambering over. The other three were crouched behind an ancient table-top tomb, peering into the gloom.

“Any movement?” Viking asked as he wiped his hands on the yellowed grass.

“None... they must all be behind us,” Tom answered, praying that he was correct in his assumption.

A low mist hung over the crooked gravestones and decrepit tombs. Above, a bloated yellow moon lurked behind the spire of the church, casting a menacing shadow. Visibility was poor as they crept from tomb to tomb in the direction of the ornate wrought-iron gates to the village.

Viking took the lead with a tight grip on his weapon. The others followed in his footsteps, with the bag of jangling nerves that was Malcolm bringing up the rear. His eyes darted back and forth as his lips trembled, and his breath came in ragged gasps. Mary eyed him with concern, he looked like he was about to scream and give away their position.

“Hey...,” she said softly. “Take it easy... you’ll give yerself a panic attack.”

“I’m... fine... absolutely... fine,” came his unconvincing reply.

Crack!

Before Mary could respond, there was a sudden noise from the bushes to their left. Malcolm leapt about six feet in the air, screaming like a void-kissed baby.

“Hush!” Mary pleaded, but it was no good, his brittle nerves had irreparably snapped.

“Fuck this!” Malcolm babbled and took off over the graves in the direction of the church, an ancient oak door hanging ajar.

Out of the doorway loped two wizened ghouls. These were obviously elders, too frail to join the hunt, but they had no trouble catching Malcolm. As Viking gave the order to run, they each grabbed an arm and pulled. Malcolm’s arms were torn from their sockets with a disgusting slurp. Tom stifled the urge to vomit as they dived into his stomach cavity with slashing claws and snapping teeth. The feast had begun, but with the attention of the ghouls occupied, Mary pulled the rest of the group along, trying not to look.

Clattering through the gate, the remaining quartet took an overgrown path that skirted a village green thick with evil thistles and eerily glowing mushrooms. Behind them, one of the aged ghouls paused in his orgiastic feeding long enough to emit an ear-splitting howl.

The group stopped as one as the howl was answered by many more from the direction of the village. The empty-looking cottages suddenly became alive with the furtive eyes and movements of tens of ghouls.

“Oh, shite... This way!” Mary sprinted up the path and across a rubble-strewn patch of land that once housed the village pub. Scrambling up a bank, the group reached an old fence and mounted it. With a sudden crack, the weather-lashed timbers gave

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