The Left Series (Book 4): Left In The Cold (22 page)

“Exactly,” I said. “If we go down there calling the shots and kicking asses, we’ll never find the others and the missing gear. We need to play this game a little stealthily.”

“All right,” Smith finally agreed, nodding his head. “But I don’t want to stay in this damn place any longer than we have to.”

“Nor do I but we’re going to have to get a few of these castle people on our side if we want to find the others in quick time. So, who do we think is behind all this?”

Smith shrugged. “Could be any one of them or all of them as a group. I don’t trust none of them.”

I sighed. “What about your cop instinct? What does your gut tell you?”

“My gut tells me I shouldn’t have eaten that sour faced bitch’s damn pie or that soup.”

“Ah, come on, Smith. Be serious, man.” I hung my head in exasperation.

“I am serious,” he protested. “I think I’m going to puke.”

Smith turned and fled to the small bathroom. He slammed the door behind him and I heard retching sounds followed by a loud splatter. My guts did a
somersault of their own and I took several deep breaths to quell my rising nausea.

Smith staggered out of the bathroom and his face looked a deathly white color, which exaggerated the purple bruising on his mouth and left eye.

“Jesus, Smith,” I stammered, shocked at his sudden corpse-like appearance. “You look like shit. Are you okay?”

He grumbled some inaudible words, holding his stomach as sweat poured from his face.

“What? I can’t understand you.”

“Need to…lie down,” he groaned.

I stumbled forward, nearly tripping over the strewn gear over the floor. I grabbed Smith under his left arm and took his weight. He was a big, hefty guy and I struggled under his bulk.

“I’ll get you to your room,” I said, trying to sound calm. I didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him and I was panicking inside.
Wingate was our medical adviser and she was AWOL, whether she was still looking for Gera with the others or had genuinely gone missing was anybody’s guess.

I helped Smith into his room and lay him down gently on his bed.
He groaned as he lay on his back then rolled onto his side and brought his knees up so he was in a fetal position.

“I’ll go and get some help, Smith,” I stammered. “I’ll go fetch Wingate.”

I turned and bolted for the staircase. With Smith now debilitated, I was going to have to solve this mystery and face whatever was thrown at me on my own.         

Chapter Thirty-Two

I charged through the Great Hall and back up the staircase to the dining hall. Alex, Trevor and Chloe still sat at the table chatting quietly. Lunch was
finished, the plates and dishes had been cleared away. The three of them immediately stopped talking as soon as they became aware of my presence and glanced around at me.

“What’s up, Brett?” Alex asked, all too cheerily. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He kind of laughed. “Don’t worry about
Shona’s body. I’ve sent Davie and Mo to move her and bury her outside.”

“Okay, that’s good,” I panted. “But I need somebody to take a look at Smith. He’s in a real bad way. He’s really sick.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that,” Alex said, rising from his chair. “Do you want me to take a look at him?”

I remembered reading Alex’s file about his violent past but didn’t have any other options. I didn’t have time to search for Wingate.

“Oh, okay,” I stammered.

“I’m first aid qualified, if that helps,” Alex added. “I’m no doctor but I might be able to get him comfortable.”

“Come on, then. Let’s go.” I waved him forward.

Trevor and Chloe followed us up the staircase to the tower bedrooms. I knew Trevor’s horrific past but at least he wasn’t going to pose a threat to Smith while we were around.
Anyhow, if kids were his thing then Smith didn’t exactly qualify.

We burst into Smith’s room and he lay in the same position as I’d left him on his bed, shaking and sweating profusely.
Alex and Trevor moved to him instantly, with concerned expressions. Smith moaned, holding his stomach and rolled around the bed. Trevor placed his hand on Smith’s forehead.

“He’s got a fever,” he said. “I’ve got some aspirins in my room. I’ll go and fetch them and he also needs plenty of water to drink.”

“I’ll grab some bottles of water from the kitchen,” Alex said.

Both of them dashed away and I was slightly impressed at how helpful the pair of them
were. I spied a bottle of water on the floor of the room and scooped it up.

“Drink this, Smith,” I said, thrusting the bottle in his face. “It’ll help with the stomach cramps.”

He groaned but took the bottle and I helped him pour the water into his mouth, some spilled down his chin as he drank. My stomach lurched. I always dreaded the moment when I would be left without Smith by my side. He’d kept me going for the last eight months and without him, I would either be dead or a walking corpse. 

“That fucking
chow was poison,” he croaked.

“It wasn’t that bad, Smith,” I sighed. “You’re getting paranoid.”

“Trust me, I’ve had food poisoning before and this is the same shit. I’ll be okay in a few hours. Go and finish the mission, kid.” He groggily flashed me a wink through his right eye. “I’ll be back up, covering your ass in no time.”

A wave of emotion washed over me and I nearly burst into tears. Smith had been my rock and mainstay since the apocalypse had occurred. I couldn’t contemplate life without him.

“You want me to go?” I asked.

He woozily nodded. “Go find the others,” he whispered. “I’ll be okay. You have to do this
mission on your own.”

I nodded.

“You fuck it up and I’ll kick your ass.”

I sniggered. “Don’t worry, big guy. I’ll find our guys.”

“Fucking right.” Smith clasped my hand. “Go do it, Wilde Man and don’t hold back. Find our people and find our stuff so we can get the hell out of here.”

“I’m there already,” I said, trying to sound confident. “I’m on the case like Sherlock fucking Holmes.”

Smith tried to laugh but it turned into a rasping cough. “Basil Rathbone was better in the part than Robert Downey Junior,” he croaked.

“What?” I shook my head in confusion.

“Ah, never mind, kid. Just get to it.”

I nodded and turned away, feeling determined to sort this shit out. It was time to stand up and do something on my own
, without having to rely on Smith or Batfish for backup. I’d forgotten Chloe was still in the room and she looked at me with an expression of astonishment on her face.

“What are you going to do, Brett?” she asked.

“I’m going to find our guys,” I growled.

“Be careful,” she whispered. “Everybody here has hang-ups. I’ve been trying to keep a watch out for you.”

I noticed she wore a white dress underneath a long black cardigan. “It was you who was following ahead of us?”

She nodded. “
I thought you’d seen me a few times and you probably heard me when I screamed. I saw Rory and was terrified. I knew he’d be a danger.”

I almost laughed. “He was certainly that.”

“Look, I’ll stay here and keep a watch on Mr Smith and check they don’t hurt him,” she said.

“Was he poisoned?” I hissed.

Chloe nodded. “I heard Mrs McMahon say she was going to pay him back for hurting Rory. She keeps a jar of the
Deadly Nightshade
plant in the kitchen. That’s why no one wants to piss her off.”

“He attacked us,” I shrieked, but realized I was verbally harassing the wrong person.
“Why is she so protective of Rory?”

“He’s her brother. They used to work here when things were normal,” Chloe said.

I glanced back at Smith and saw he was either asleep or unconscious. “How long have you been here?”

She thought for a second. “Around six months. I used to live in a village called
Cladich, just near here. Everyone in the village talked about this place.”

“Saying what?”

“They said they used to employ former criminals and nut jobs because it was cheap labor. They had a deal with the local police and courts. People came here to work on community service projects.”

I shook my head. “What’s that?”

“It’s a work scheme for people who’ve committed crimes and helps them back to work. It’s supposed to rehabilitate them back into society.”

That explain
ed the weird work files. “Listen, Chloe, I have to go and find the others. Any ideas where they are?”

Chloe’s pretty eyes bulged and I knew from her reaction she had an idea but she shook her head. “I haven’t seen them,” she muttered and looked to the floor. A tell tale lie.

“You sure?” I pressed, gazing into her eyes.

She shrugged and shook her head again. I knew she wasn’t going to tell me any more information. She was going to clam up completely if I pushed her further.

“Okay,” I muttered. “Keep me updated if you find out anything else.”

I turned to leave the room but Chloe grabbed my arm
, her nails dug forcibly into my flesh.

“Watch out for
Maddie,” she hissed.

I recoiled, slightly anxious of her change in temperament.

“She likes you and she wants you.” Chloe’s lips curled back over her front teeth. “She doesn’t stop until she gets what she wants.”

I grunted in acknowledgement, shrugging off her grasp and wary of the task that lay ahead of me.

Chapter Thirty-Three

I brushed by Alex and Trevor on the staircase. They carried a plastic bottle of water and a first aid kit. We exchanged glances as I hurried by.

“You take care of him,” I warned, pointing a finger.

They both nodded with sullen faces. I charged onward down the stairs, not even sure where I was heading. Nobody occupied the Great Hall so I ran up the stairs into the dining area. Mrs McMahon was hunched over the table, wiping the surface down with a cloth. I gritted my teeth and stomped towards her.

She saw me approaching and took a few steps back from the table.

“Why did you poison Smith, you old bitch?” I screamed. “That fucking lunatic attacked us first. I don’t care that he’s your relation. We did nothing wrong.”

Mrs
McMahon tossed the cloth on the table then turned and fled through the double doors into the kitchen. I pursued her, incensed that she’d poisoned my friend and probably opened the outer gate the previous night. If she didn’t like us, she’d probably let the zombies into the castle grounds and alerted us to hope we’d perish at the hands of the undead. I snorted breath in and out of my battered nose, trying to remain calm as I banged through the double doors into the kitchen.

Mrs
McMahon cowered next to a large stainless steel oven in the corner of the room, holding a big chopping knife out in front of her in an attempt to ward me off.

“Don’t come near me,” she screeched. “Rory will get you if you hurt me.”

“I couldn’t give a fuck about Rory,” I shouted back. “Why did you poison Smith?”

“He would have searched for Rory and probably killed him,” she wailed. “I saw the look in his eye. I know a killer when I see one.”

I stopped in my tracks and stared her down.

“How do you know
the look of killers?”

“The castle is full of them, you fool,” she hissed.

I didn’t know if she meant the castle residents had killed multiple zombies or other human beings but I didn’t quiz her.

“Where are my friends?” I growled.

“I don’t know,” she seethed. “I haven’t seen them.”

“You sure you haven’t poisoned them as well?” I remembered Smith hadn’t eaten all of his
food due to his sore jaw. He really would have been dead if he’d eaten the whole portion.

“No, I haven’t,”
Mrs McMahon snapped. “I told you, I haven’t seen them. Maybe you should be interrogating other people in the castle, not me. Some of the others have a liking for young women.”

“Like who?” I barked
, reaching for my Beretta. She saw my hand move to my holster and knew I was deadly serious. I was burning my bridges here and realized I’d be next on the death list if I didn’t find the others soon.