Nightmare on Fleet Street (Part 1)
Alright- I present to a small viewing community.. NoFs. Due to it's size I'm going to be posting it roughly ten pages at a time- which will vary in number of chapters as the story goes on, as they got considerably longer towards the end.
I wrote this ages ago, but considering it's about ZOMBIES I decided to keep sharing, plus it's the longest completed work I've ever done.
What the hell is this? Nightmare on Fleet Street. It's Sweeney Todd. With zombies.
I should look away because.. You shouldn't... unless you find zombie violence, general violence and some bad language offensive.
What's going on? I thought I covered this? Zombies. Sweeney Todd. Pretty much it, and some general angst and drama. Not to mention zombies.
--
Chapter 1
The blade slid over the man’s throat, spraying it’s one observer with a stream of crimson. Sweeney smirked as the man in the barber’s chair began to jerk, struggling against the embrace of death. When his spastic twitches died, the barber pressed upon the chair’s pedal with a satisfactory smirk on his face. The chair titled back and the trapdoor swung open, but the corpse remained oddly stubborn.
Frowning, Sweeney gave the man’s feet a nudge towards the abyss. Instead of starting its slide downwards, the body began to twitch and jerk again. Shocked, Sweeney gripped his friend tightly and made to slash at the man’s throat again. The body slid towards the floor as he hacked into the man’s neck, all the while the corpse stared at him, attempting to sit up.
Not meant to stay open for long, the trap door stuck on part of the body, while the chair straightened itself, flipped the body over and snapping its spine in an irregular fashion.
Sweeney watched in horrid fascination as the corpse attempted to dislodge itself. Coming to his senses, he tapped the pedal with his foot again, sending the broken, somehow still moving, body down to the bake house floor.
A faint scream echoed up from the dark chute as the trapdoor closed once more.
“Mrs. Lovett!” He snarled, annoyed at his own foolishness. Of course she would be down there when he sent a freak of nature down. Ignoring his bloodied appearance the barber ran for his shop door and skipped down the stairs.
The pie-shop costumers watched in surprise as he sped past them into the other shop. Running into the parlor, he stood gasping for breath.
Mrs. Lovett was brandishing a rolling pin, beating at a slit-throat customer, backing towards the fire where Toby stood. Several more men were stumbling into the room, necks painted red. They were coming from the bake house.
About to dash forward, the barber stopped himself when he noticed what Toby was doing. The boy held a partially full bottle of gin and was stuffing a piece of cloth into the bottle’s thin neck. Hurriedly holding the rag’s end into the fireplace, he waited until it caught fire before tossing it at the nearest corpse.
Mrs. Lovett stumbled back from the burning man, whose clothes had caught fire with the alcohol. She was panting, clutching her bloodied rolling pin with a shaky hand.
“Mr. T!” She gasped, finally noticing him. “I don’ know wot happen’d! They jus’-”
A scream from outside drew the trio’s attention away from the burning body and other confused corpses in the door. Dashing outside, the three of them saw the cause of the new commotion.
“Me ‘usband!” A woman was shrieking, kneeling over a man on the ground. “Somethins poisoned ‘im! These awful pies ‘ave poisoned ‘im!”
The entire crowd stared in wide-eyed shock as the man suddenly grabbed his wife, and bit into her neck.
“Toby,” Sweeney said as calmly as he could, grip tightening on his razor. “We need more gin.”
--
Chapter 2
Panic seized the area, with pie customers trying to run away, others simply staring in shock, or others falling the ground, clutching their stomachs.
“Up into my shop Mrs. Lovett!” Sweeney roared.
“Wot?” She shrieked, beating her rolling pin against a man who was feebly attempting to grasp her skirts.
“We need a place to barricade ourselves, get into the bloody shop woman!” He turned to the boy at his side. “Either stay with Mrs. Lovett or come with me to get the gin.”
Toby was just starting to nod his head when Mr. Todd began pushing his way through the crowd and back into the shop. Those customers who weren’t becoming mindless were being quickly devoured by those who were, and any who were running from the shop began to drop like flies as the strange sickness over took them. Slashing at any who dared to come near him, Sweeney reached the kitchen relatively unscathed and quickly opened the cupboards. “Gin.” He growled to himself. “Where the bloody hell is the gin?”
“O’er ‘ere sir!” Toby called, pointing towards a cabinet as he crawled up onto the counter. He lashed out with his feet at a man who was attempting to eat his shoe. “Mum keeps it high up, so I can’t reach it!”
Sweeney shoved his way over to where Toby had indicated and wrenched the cupboard open. Grabbing all the bottles he could hold (how could so much fit in one place?) he turned back to where Toby was bravely punching at a drooling man’s face. “C’mon!” He snarled, struggling for the door. “Up to my shop!”
Hacking and slashing at all that was before him, the barber managed a slow pace towards the door. The cuts his razor inflicted only served to slow the monsters. Though the blood that soon slicked the floor became more useful than the cuts, causing them to fall to the floor because of clumsy feet.
“Toby!” He snarled, looking back at where the boy was still stuck on the counter.
“Mr. Todd!”
Pulling the cap off of one of the gin bottle’s, Sweeney snatched a lit pipe hanging loosely from a corpse’s mouth, then ripped a piece of cloth from his shirt with his teeth. Hurriedly stuffing the cloth into the bottle, and kicking back all creatures that tried to touch him, he lit the shirt scrap with the pipe then tossed the bottle into the crowd.
The fire distracted them, allowing Toby to jump from the counter and dash towards the door. Sweeney was one step behind him.
“Mr. T! A bottle!” The boy cried, seeing a line of limping and drooling, glassy eyed men on the stairs towards the barber shop.
“I don’t want to waste anymore! Grab a chair from the tables.” He stabbed his razor into the base of one man’s neck, trying hard not to drop the gin bottles.
Doing as he was bid, Toby snatched a toppled chair and then dashed back to the staircase. “Keep away from me mum!” He screamed, bashing at all within arms reach.
“Get up the stairs boy!” Sweeney shouted, being pushed away from them by a massive horde of Londoners.
Not needing to be bid again, Toby knocked down all that were in his way and simply leapt over their still moving bodies. Panting at the stair’s top, Toby turned his back towards the door, ready to hold back the creatures that started to stand once more. “Mrs. Lovett!” He cried, hoping she would open the door. Toby heard a soft chime, and then a pair of hands pulled him inside.
Stumbling, he dropped his chair and watched Mrs. Lovett slam the door shut once more and lock it. She spun around towards him, looking frazzled and wide-eyed. “Where’s Mr. T?”
“I-I don’ know. ‘E jus’ said go fer the stairs- I did as he asked mum, I don’t know.” Tears filled the boys eyes.
“Oh hush love,” Mrs. Lovett took a swift step towards Toby and pulled him into a hug. “You did nothin’ bad love. I’m glad you'rw safe, doin’ what Mr. T said.” She kissed the top of his head, hoping to calm him down.
“They’ve got ‘im!” The boy sobbed, clutching his mum’s apron in a fit of despair. “I know they’ve got ‘im!”
“We don’t know that love, hush. He’s probably fine.” Worry laced her voice, and unbidden tears watered her eyes. She continued to hold him and stroke his hair, even as a low moaning reached their ears through the door, and distant screams echoed from down the street.
Toby sniffed, trying to force away his tears. “Mum?” He asked, voice quivering slightly.
“What is it dear?” Her voice was nearly a whisper as she leaned back, looking him in the eye.
“Why were there men in the bake house, wot wif their throats slit?”
She smiled at him sadly. “No ain’t the time love.”
“Bu-”
A muted bang sounded from outside, and the pair rushed towards the barber shop door. Peering through its dusty windows, they caught sight of a small fire in the crowd of people.
“Mr. T musta done tha’ mum!” Toby gasped, for once in his life glad to know the man was in some way alive.
Mrs. Lovett smiled in return, though worry was still in her eyes. Her eyes darted around, but she was unable to spot her barber.
There!
Her heart skipped a beat when she finally spotted him, crawling onto a table. He was drenched with blood, and one arm held several gin bottles close to his chest. The other arm sported his friend from his hand, somehow still gleaming silver under its crimson layer. Even from the distance, Mrs. Lovett could see the defiant snarl on his face, which meant he was far from accepting defeat.
“Mr. T…” She murmured under her breath.
--
Higher ground. That was what he needed, and the table managed to provide it. The once-men seemed to lack the motor capabilities of simply stepping up after him, so instead they stretched their arms and attempted to grab his ankles. Gasping for breath, he gave himself a moments respite, stomping on the hands and kicking at the faces of those who got too close.
Sweeney Todd had died once before, and had no intention of doing it again.
Though the distance to the stairs from his perch was short, the mass of people between him and the stairs seemed incredibly large. And admittedly, working through the lot was tiring work. Fire seemed to frighten and hurt them more the gashes, but he didn’t want to waste his precious gin resource too soon. Apparently decapitation worked well too, as he had come across a customer with a slit throat and accidentally removed the man’s head. The body had stopped moving, though the man’s eyes had still roved around aimlessly in his skull.
But getting close enough to cut off their head would be difficult. Not to mention the cutting off part, as very few of those below him had deep slits across their throats.
Kicking another man’s teeth in, Sweeney lost his balance and tumbled down.
--
“’E needs ‘elp mum!” Toby reached for his chair, but Mrs. Lovett stopped him.
“Then I’ll be the one goin’ after ‘im.”
“Bu-”
“No arguin’! An if somein’ bad ‘appens to the both of us, ya stay ‘ere. Is tha’ clear Toby?”
Toby held back his retorts, and instead nodded his head.
“Good lad. Now lock the door behind me.” Mrs. Lovett grabbed her rolling pin and reached for the door. She hesitated, turning back to look at Toby. He gave her a hopeful look, as if asking her to stay, but she simply smiled, and opened the door.
--
Chapter 3
Sweeney landed on his back, and managed to keep hold of the gin, though he lost all of his air. The drooling, glassy eyed horde descended on him, groping and intending to sink their teeth into him. He kicked and struggled, lashing out with his razor.
Stars danced before his eyes as he wheezed, in desperate need of air. What sounded like yelling and nasty cracking sounds suddenly started up in the distance, but he ignored them in his attempt to stand.
Nellie was, in no words strong, but no one could ever call her weak. With a hand gripping her rolling pin, she swung deftly at the men’s heads, more often then not sending them topping over the stair’s banister. She was pleased with the result of the sturdy wood against the monster’s skulls, glad she had never coped out when it came to her kitchen accessories.
Blows to the head seemed to effectively stun them, so that even when she didn’t knock them down she managed to get past them.
“Mr. T!” She shouted, reaching the bottom of the stairs. “Mr. T!”
A group of monsters had swarmed at the edge of the table where she had seen him last, causing her to fear the worst.
“Mr. Todd!” Nellie screeched, increasing her speed and amount of blows to all before her.
Suddenly a creature was pushed back, knocking several others away as well. Pulling himself up and holding out his razor in a hand, the bloodied bruised and snarling Sweeney Todd looked every inch a demon barber; and very much alive.
Nellie let out a shriek of joyous and mildly demented laughter, staring at the man with admiration as her weapon collided with another creature’s skull. His eyes flickered towards the source of the sound, finally noticing her.
Not even bothering with his razor, Sweeney pushed his way through the crowd on brute strength alone until he reached her. “Back to the shop Mrs. Lovett! What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing out here?”
“But-”
“Move!” He snarled, pushing her towards the stairs with his body. Back pressed against her body he began to walk backwards, trusting her to lead them towards the stairs.
Sweeney’s razor sang through the air before cutting through a man’s flesh, and was soon joined with the sick cracks of Nellie’s rolling pin on a skull.
--
Toby had locked the door as Mrs. Lovett had asked, but all kinds of fear still coursed through him. Was Mr. Todd really alright? Was his mum even going to survive the rescue operation? If they really tried, would the monsters be able to break down the old door and reach him? His hands gripped the battered chair he had used early tightly. Should he ignore what she told him and simply go out and fight too? Cold sweat coated his body, and he licked his lips nervously. Toby had heard the sound of breaking bones when Mrs. Lovett had exited the shop, but as the baker had made it farther away from the door, the sound had dwindled. Was she really alright?
A strange shriek that could have been laughter reached his ears. Who was that? What was that?
Shakily releasing his chair, Toby nearly ran into the door as he desperately peered through the glass. Mr. Todd and his mum were together! He closed his eyes and let out a relieved breath, when another thought occurred to him.
Why had she dodged around his question? How was the end of their world not time to answer it? If this was of course, the end as it seemed to him. Another thought caused his belly to twist with disgust. What was it in Mrs. Lovett’s pies that had caused the men to turn so? Was it some freak coincidence that they had gotten sick when eating her pies, or was there a reason?
“Boy!” A voice roared, pulling him from his thoughts. “Open the door!”
Jerking back to reality, Toby fumbled with the lock before yanking the door open.
--
Chapter 4
To call Sweeney a bloody mess would have been an understatement. He claimed most of the blood wasn’t his, but after limping towards his vanity to put the gin down and nearly collapsing on the floor, Nellie insisted to check on him.
Setting him down in the barber chair and pulling off the bloody and unsalvageable shirt, she shook her head with disgust. The blood had soaked through the shirt’s material, staining most of his pale skin red, and where it wasn‘t red it was purple with bruises. Her eyes immediately found several cuts along his arms, and several on his back.
“We shall ‘ave to use the gin ta clean ya up dear.” She sighed, reaching for a bottle.
“No!” He snapped. “We aren’t wasting any of it on me. Just hand me the bucket of water and a rag. I’ll be fine.”
Having to clean up his customer’s bloody messes more often than not, Sweeney always kept a bucket or two of water lying about his shop in case of emergency clean up. He pointed towards where one was sitting, expecting it retrieved.
“Mr. T,” Nellie sighed. “These might get infected.”
“Then I should go back outside.” He growled.
“No.” She snapped, Nellie let out a breath to try and calm herself, rubbing at her head agitatedly. “Mr. T jus’ use the gin on the cuts. Jus’ a little.” She begged.
“No.” Sweeney snapped again, taking the bucket and cloth form Toby who had fetched them. “This,” he dunked the rag into the bucket, “will be fine.”
Nellie rubbed her head again and grumbled something under her breath about men.
“Mum, are you alright?” Toby asked.
“Only a headache luv. Those things out there didn’t manage to hurt me.”
“Which is a relief,” Sweeney growled. “Why did you come after me? It was a foolish idea that could have gotten you killed.” Wringing out the soaked rag, he gritted his teeth as he began to clean off his arms.
“Ya looked like ya needed ‘elp is all,” tears started to fill her eyes.
“I got out of the mess fine.”
All happiness Toby had previously felt on Mr. Todd’s return was soon diminishing. His mum had just risked her life for him, and he was yelling at her?
“Jus’- jus’ doin’ wot I could Mr. T.”
“You could stay here.” He stood up suddenly, dropping his rag. There was nothing like the normal maddened rage in his eyes that normally accompanied his outbursts. Yet it took Mrs. Lovett several tears to fully understand what that meant.
He was worried about her. She hiccupped, and a tiny smile came onto her face as she bowed her head, taking his onslaught of words without a flinch. Toby frowned, trying to understand her happiness.
And then the door to the barber shop rattled as hungry hands pressed upon it.
Immediately snapping his attention away from Mrs. Lovett, Sweeney’s hand went for a razor at his side. “Brace the door with something!” Was the next things out of his mouth.
Hurriedly scrubbing at her tears, Mrs. Lovett looked around to find something for just that. With its mechanics, the barber chair was immovable, and the little vanity that held the gin wouldn’t do any good as a block, as it was too light. Thinking as quickly as she could, Nellie dashed for the door bad braced it with her back.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Sweeney snapped at her.
“Jus’ helpin’ Mr. T.” She smiled weakly at him.
For once his scowl failed him, and all he was able to do was stare at her. Having almost panicked at the sound of the banging, Toby began to calm down, seeing that the adults appeared to have things under control.
“Mum, ye can’t stay up ‘gaisnt th’ door ferever.” The boy mumbled finally.
Breaking away from the eye contact, Sweeney slowly bent down to pick up the discarded rag. “They’ll probably wander off eventually. Or at least move on when they can’t get in.” He stared at the rag rather than the room’s other occupants. “We’ll just ‘ave to take turns until then.”
“Keep fixin’ yerself up Mr. T.” Nellie said softly. “I’ll keep ‘em back fer now.” Her smile faltered as she felt each fist pound on the door through its frail wood. Though they could move on, it was more likely they broke in before that occurred. What would they have then?
A stuffy silence descended don the room, only broken by the occasional thud on the door, or the soft splash of water as Sweeney cleaned off the blood coating his skin. Toby had sat down by the chair he used as a weapon, casting continued glances between it, and the door.
There was a loud crack, and all attention immediately went back to the door.
“Mrs. Lovett!” Sweeney once again abandoned his attempt at self-cleaning and headed for the door, taking his razor from a holster and preparing for a fight.
Nellie gave a squeak of surprise as the glass panel by her head shattered, and a bruised and bloodied hand came through. Sweeney stopped in his tracks, feeling the old emotion of fear in his belly, fear for someone else. “Nel-” he choked down the name, determined not to say it. “Get away from the door.” He growled instead.
She didn’t seem to hear him, and instead stared wide eyed at the grasping limb.
“Mum..” Toby whimpered.
A loud screamed echoed out of the barber shop and onto the street as the remaining windows were shattered and several hands grabbed the back of Nellie’s dress.
“Get yer ‘ands off me ye grimy bastards!” Nellie frantically swung her rolling pin against all arms she could reach, but fear and panic began to overwhelm her as the hands gripping the back of her dress started to pull.
Sweeney dashed forward, stabbing wildly with his razors, splattering himself with blood once more. “Move, move!” He snapped, hoping that somehow the baker would be able to break free of the monsters’ grip.
Splinters joined the glass and blood as the thin frames between the window panes were broken. Toby was frozen at the sight, knowing his chair would be no good in such a situation. He suddenly rushed forward though, as the baker screamed again when her feet were lifted off the ground.
Focusing his attention on attacking all he could reach for the window, Sweeney nearly forced himself to ignore Mrs. Lovett’s screeches. They couldn’t risk opening the door as an attempt to push them back, if it was at all possible with so many swarmed behind it. He couldn’t risk touching her, even as an attempt to bring her back. All that would show was a weakness, a desire for her to stay, the possibility of caring for her well being and maybe even a bit of compassion.
Sweeney’s internal dilemma was nothing like the desperate grip Toby had on his mum’s arm, hoping to be able to pull her back.
There were a great deal more cracking noises and glass shattering as Nellie was finally pulled through the window like a great rag doll, rolling pin still clutched in her hand.
“Mr. T!” She screeched, kicking snarling and whacking at the hands that passed her above the crowd. “Mr. T!”
The barber and the boy stood in numb shock as the horde slowly drifted away from the door, carrying the baker with them.
“No.” Sweeney growled, wrenching open the feeble and damaged door. “No!” He attempted to run down the stairs after her, but a surprisingly strong hand grabbed onto his wrist and held him back.
“Sir, stop!” Toby pleaded. “Mr. T, look!” The boy begged.
Though most of the creatures had descended down the stairs with their prize, a great many were still wondering around the pie shop’s courtyard, and they turned their hungry eyes onto the barber shop as the moving group passed by.
“We need to get back into the shop sir!”
Sweeney ignored Toby, eyes fixed on the hissing spitting form of the red-haired woman. “Nellie!” He howled.
--
Chapter 5
She had fought and attempted all she could to gain her freedom, but the large amount of people holding onto her made it impossible to free herself from all of them at once. Nellie had been hoping her travel with the horde would have been short lived, and that Mr. Todd would have come dashing down the stairs after her.
He doesn’t care, he wouldn’t risk it. A voice had whispered to her. She didn’t want to believe it, and she didn’t want to hear it. In fact, she could have sworn she heard him shouting her name as she was hauled off. But that could have been a fancy her mind came up with on its own. After all, here she was, clutching a bloodied rolling pin to her chest and just waiting to be carried to an unknown destination.
Nellie tried not to focus on her mysterious situation, not liking one bit that the odd creatures were acting strange on their own accord. It added another mystery, which her weary brain couldn’t solve. All she hoped for was that Mr. Todd was keeping Toby safe.
--
“You little wretch!” Sweeney had his hand wrapped around Toby’s neck, lifting the child up off the ground. “Do you think you’ve managed to help us in anyway by not letting me go after her?”
Toby had been relieved when the man had finally decided to reenter his shop and slam the useless door shut. Now he was once again forced to realize what a dangerous man Mr. Todd was, and continue wondering why he had ever helped him, or hoped he lived.
He wheezed out a few incomprehensible words to Sweeney’s smoldering gaze. With a twist of his lips the barber frowned, dropping Toby and watching him fall to the floor.
“Get up.” He snapped, turning away from him.
Massaging his no-doubt bruised throat, the boy shot him an annoyed glare before complying. “Wot now?” He grumbled.
Sweeney grimaced at the boy’s tone, his fingers curling around the chair that had been used earlier. A great part of him desired to throw it at the child for having stopped him, and another part told him to try and view reason. The child wasn’t Mrs. Lovett, in fact, the only reason he was putting up with him was because certain death awaited him on the other side of the door. That was, it should, unless they decided to drag him away too. A great part of Sweeney doubted such a feat was going to ever happen again, but he wouldn’t be past trying if Toby was the test subject.
Instead of tossing it at Toby’s head, Sweeney smashed the chair into the ground, breaking off its legs. “We need to put some bars back in the door if we’re to stay here.”
“But wot about’-”
Sweeney turned towards Toby irritably, still clutching a greater part of the chair. The child swallowed, then nodded his head.
“Alrigh’ sir.”
--
Mrs. Lovett had kept her gaze up at the oddly blue and cloud free sky. A sort-of half sleep state came upon her because of the exhaustion and fright she felt, but her eyes remained open even when her brain seemed to shut off. If she had taken the time to try and notice and map her surroundings, she would have been less surprised when the horde beneath her stopped moving.
She also, most likely, wouldn’t have screamed bloody murder when she was dropped to the ground.
Clutching the rolling pin like a safety blanket, Mrs. Lovett eyed the drooling creatures nervously. They were simply standing about, staring off at nothing. She slowly turned, worried and intrigued by where they had brought her.
Her aching, trembling body went stiff with shock.
“This is what they brought?” A voice droned. The man sighed. “Come bring her down to see.”
Mrs. Lovett’s wide eyes showed all the emotion a dropped jaw could not.
--
“Mr. Todd, sir?”
Sweeney grunted in response.
“Wot do you.. Wot do you think ‘appened to mum?”
The genuine fear and worry in the child’s voice made the barber look up. Why was he asking, did he expect some optimistic answer?
No doubt he does, Mrs. Lovett wouldn’t hesitate to tell him all is well.
Of course, Mrs. Lovett wasn’t there, and that was exactly their problem. Whatever fate befell her, Sweeney didn’t think it was a particularly kind one.
“I don’t know wots happened to her. And if she somehow is alive, we’re going to need to think of ourselves for a moment.”
Toby seemed more surprised by the fact he received a response over what was said.
“We can’t stay ‘ere, can we?”
“No.” Sweeney snapped, he was quickly becoming irritated with Toby’s constant questions.
“You said we ‘ave to think of ourselves before we go fer mum Mr. T. ‘Ow is pacin’ helpin’?”
“It is much more helpful then your constant talk.” He spat angrily, coming to a sudden stop next to the boy.
Toby squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for another remark, or attempt on his life. None came. “Mr. T…?” He opened his eyes slowly.
“The chute.” The barber muttered.
“Wot-”
“Shut-up boy.” Sweeney marched over to his chair, and stomped on its pedal. He grinned at the dark hole the trapdoor opened into.
Toby stared at the titled chair and dark tunnel.
“You didn’t think I conducted business without help, did you?” He sneered at Toby’s horrified look. It seemed Mrs. Lovett was quite the charmer, and the boy had remained ignorant of her role in the whole affair. The fact the boy had finally shut up made Sweeney smile, but a strange bitter taste entered his mouth when he thought about how Toby would now see Mrs. Lovett.
--
Chapter 6
“Th’.. the men in the bake ‘ouse.” Toby stuttered.
“Yes.” Sweeney snapped, watching the trapdoor and counting in his head.
Seven seconds, and the innocent looking floorboards swung back into place.
“She.. In th’ bake ‘ouse… burns them.. by the pies?” The child was grasping at straws, trying to piece everything together, and though the speculations were wild in his head, he knew that he was omitting something.
“She doesn’t burn the bodies.” The barber, resuming his pacing. Seven seconds… “Not the entire thing anyway,” his lip curled into what could have been a smile when he thought back on the baker’s idea. Just as genius as the day she proposed it to him, he had been happy enough then to pull her into a strange waltz about the shop, a feat he was probably willing to perform again. Even if it was for that one simple idea.
“Th’ pies…?”
“Yes, yes.” Sweeney snapped. His pace became quicker, and a hand ran through his disheveled hair, making it look even more crazed. “Woefully ironic how the best pies in London are made from the scum of the earth.”
“I don’t believe you!” Toby screeched, and then pounced on Sweeney’s back.
--
Mrs. Lovett didn’t know how she moved, or why she wasn’t running, screaming, or struggling to get away. She simply stepped onto the premises of the garish home, feeling quite out of place with her bloodied clothes and rolling pin.
The judge gave the tool in her hand a sneer. “A baker?” He didn’t seem too surprised by the blood.
“Famous.” She choked out.
Turpin raised an eyebrow.
“Fleet Street.” Mrs. Lovett managed to say. The surreal situation, the calmness in which the Judge addressed her, well, it wasn‘t calming at all.
“Ah yes, I’ve heard about that shop.” A reminiscent sneer appeared on the man’s face.
A sudden rage boiled inside the baker when she realized what memories the judge was visiting. “O’ course tha’s wot ya think ya sick-”
The surprise on the judge’s faces and Mrs. Lovett’s nasty comment were suddenly halted when the Beadle came into the room.
“Joanna as requested lord.” The portly man’s eyes danced over Mrs. Lovett stiff and blood stained form. That look suddenly reminded her of her disheveled appearance, and of likely tears in her dress from her haul through the barber shop window.
Oh, Mr. T. A despairing voice wailed in her head.<
“…this?” The end of the question snapped Mrs. Lovett back to reality.
Johanna stood in the room, looking sickly pale at the sight of Mrs. Lovett. The judge had apparently been addressing her, as the young woman tore her eyes away to look at him. “Yes sir.”
“A baker? Nothing more.. suitable, for you new servants to retrieve?” The graying man sighed.
“N-not now sir.” The girl had started to tremble at the word ‘servants’.
Pity twisted Mrs. Lovett’s gut when her mind finally pieced bits of the conversation together. Judge Turpin had apparently made the disgusting horde as a strange gift for his ward. How that happened or why such a thought would possess any man was beyond her grasp.
“Shall I take her up to my room sir?” The young blue eyes darted back to Mrs. Lovett, mirroring her pity.
--
The air wooshed out of Toby’s lungs when he was slammed to the floor. Stars danced in his vision but the assault wasn’t over until his head was snapped to the side by a vicious smack. Toby could taste blood in his mouth and feel tears in his eyes, but he didn’t dare make a sound when cool metal was pressed against his neck.
“Don’t try that again.” A cold voice warned him.
--
“I..um.” Johanna’s hands fidget nervously, grasping at her skirts before releasing them. “I suppose…?” She stared at Mrs. Lovett, as if hoping the woman would somehow provide the answer.
Mrs. Lovett, still moving with uneasy stiffness, ignored the girl’s attempt. The room was small, but well lit and sparely furnished, giving it a larger appearance than it’s walls really offered.
“Would you like to.. change?” The blonde asked, her hands wringing together.
“Oh.” The baker stared down at her clothes, as if just noticing. About to say yes, Mrs. Lovett took in Johanna’s appearance before amending her answer. “It’s alright dear, I’m quite used to it.” Though the answer would no doubt ring oddly in the girl’s ears, Mrs. Lovett thought it would be better than attempting to squeeze into the much smaller woman’s garments.
--
“There weren’t many in the house.” Sweeney was talking to himself, but Toby kept his eyes glued to the barber, fearful the moment his mind strayed be would be asked a question. Not that his presence had really been acknowledged after the razor had been removed from his throat.
The not-so distant memory caused shivers to travel up the boy’s spine, reinforcing the fact Mr. Todd did not care he had threatened the life of a child. Though the act was not unprompted, Toby couldn’t help but wonder how the man felt nothing after actions. Toby’s lip was swollen, and his body trembled whenever Sweeney flicked his razor open and closed.
“They wont stay in an empty place, I think..” The barber continued, feet carrying him back and forth by his door. He would have preferred to pace by the window as he normally did, but with the threat the weak door possessed, it was better to stay closer to the action. “They’ve probably cleared out.”
Toby swallowed, and slowly gathered the courage to ask a question. “Wots this ta do wif the chute sir?” Despite the accusations and revolting truths Toby felt behind Mr. Todd’s words, he couldn’t think of his mum as an accomplice to murder. Mr. Todd took advantage of her love and made her do it, a voice whispered in his mind. For surely, if she had been doing it all of her own free will that would undo his base of reality.
Sweeney didn’t look at the child, though he answered his question. “We’re going to climb through down to the bake house.” How far of a drop was it, even if one could lower themselves with the utmost care? How far was the ceiling from the cold, brick floor? “They’ll be outside of this door still. We could sneak out to the street.” If they still aren’t in the pie shop.
Seven seconds wasn‘t a lot of time to lower oneself into a grimy tunnel and find footing; nor was ‘if’ a great basis for a plan.
--
Despite Mrs. Lovett’s assurances that the tattered dress was fine, Johanna fetched a new one for her. When the woman confessed the real reason she wouldn’t change was because she doubted it would fit her, the girl had blushed, and then sent for a dress. The Beadle had given them quite an annoyed look at the request, but hadn’t complained.
“Where’s it guna come from, I wonder?” The baker muttered, more to the rolling pin at her chest than the room’s other occupant.
“Here.” Johanna stepped out from behind a screen, forcing a smile onto her face, she hadn‘t heard the comment. “The bath is ready for you.”
Mrs. Lovett wasn’t all that sure she wanted to take her clothes off in the Judge’s house. When all she did was stare at her, Johanna sighed and stepped forward to take Mrs. Lovett’s hand. The older woman flinched at the contact, causing the girl to pull back in shock.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “Are-?”
“It’s nothing.” The baker mumbled, taking a small step away from the screen and the tub behind it.
“Some of that blood is yours, isn’t it?”
What could have been an ironic smile twisted onto her face. “Bein‘ pulled through a window might leave a mark.”
Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 7/ Part 8
I wrote this ages ago, but considering it's about ZOMBIES I decided to keep sharing, plus it's the longest completed work I've ever done.
What the hell is this? Nightmare on Fleet Street. It's Sweeney Todd. With zombies.
I should look away because.. You shouldn't... unless you find zombie violence, general violence and some bad language offensive.
What's going on? I thought I covered this? Zombies. Sweeney Todd. Pretty much it, and some general angst and drama. Not to mention zombies.
--
Chapter 1
The blade slid over the man’s throat, spraying it’s one observer with a stream of crimson. Sweeney smirked as the man in the barber’s chair began to jerk, struggling against the embrace of death. When his spastic twitches died, the barber pressed upon the chair’s pedal with a satisfactory smirk on his face. The chair titled back and the trapdoor swung open, but the corpse remained oddly stubborn.
Frowning, Sweeney gave the man’s feet a nudge towards the abyss. Instead of starting its slide downwards, the body began to twitch and jerk again. Shocked, Sweeney gripped his friend tightly and made to slash at the man’s throat again. The body slid towards the floor as he hacked into the man’s neck, all the while the corpse stared at him, attempting to sit up.
Not meant to stay open for long, the trap door stuck on part of the body, while the chair straightened itself, flipped the body over and snapping its spine in an irregular fashion.
Sweeney watched in horrid fascination as the corpse attempted to dislodge itself. Coming to his senses, he tapped the pedal with his foot again, sending the broken, somehow still moving, body down to the bake house floor.
A faint scream echoed up from the dark chute as the trapdoor closed once more.
“Mrs. Lovett!” He snarled, annoyed at his own foolishness. Of course she would be down there when he sent a freak of nature down. Ignoring his bloodied appearance the barber ran for his shop door and skipped down the stairs.
The pie-shop costumers watched in surprise as he sped past them into the other shop. Running into the parlor, he stood gasping for breath.
Mrs. Lovett was brandishing a rolling pin, beating at a slit-throat customer, backing towards the fire where Toby stood. Several more men were stumbling into the room, necks painted red. They were coming from the bake house.
About to dash forward, the barber stopped himself when he noticed what Toby was doing. The boy held a partially full bottle of gin and was stuffing a piece of cloth into the bottle’s thin neck. Hurriedly holding the rag’s end into the fireplace, he waited until it caught fire before tossing it at the nearest corpse.
Mrs. Lovett stumbled back from the burning man, whose clothes had caught fire with the alcohol. She was panting, clutching her bloodied rolling pin with a shaky hand.
“Mr. T!” She gasped, finally noticing him. “I don’ know wot happen’d! They jus’-”
A scream from outside drew the trio’s attention away from the burning body and other confused corpses in the door. Dashing outside, the three of them saw the cause of the new commotion.
“Me ‘usband!” A woman was shrieking, kneeling over a man on the ground. “Somethins poisoned ‘im! These awful pies ‘ave poisoned ‘im!”
The entire crowd stared in wide-eyed shock as the man suddenly grabbed his wife, and bit into her neck.
“Toby,” Sweeney said as calmly as he could, grip tightening on his razor. “We need more gin.”
--
Chapter 2
Panic seized the area, with pie customers trying to run away, others simply staring in shock, or others falling the ground, clutching their stomachs.
“Up into my shop Mrs. Lovett!” Sweeney roared.
“Wot?” She shrieked, beating her rolling pin against a man who was feebly attempting to grasp her skirts.
“We need a place to barricade ourselves, get into the bloody shop woman!” He turned to the boy at his side. “Either stay with Mrs. Lovett or come with me to get the gin.”
Toby was just starting to nod his head when Mr. Todd began pushing his way through the crowd and back into the shop. Those customers who weren’t becoming mindless were being quickly devoured by those who were, and any who were running from the shop began to drop like flies as the strange sickness over took them. Slashing at any who dared to come near him, Sweeney reached the kitchen relatively unscathed and quickly opened the cupboards. “Gin.” He growled to himself. “Where the bloody hell is the gin?”
“O’er ‘ere sir!” Toby called, pointing towards a cabinet as he crawled up onto the counter. He lashed out with his feet at a man who was attempting to eat his shoe. “Mum keeps it high up, so I can’t reach it!”
Sweeney shoved his way over to where Toby had indicated and wrenched the cupboard open. Grabbing all the bottles he could hold (how could so much fit in one place?) he turned back to where Toby was bravely punching at a drooling man’s face. “C’mon!” He snarled, struggling for the door. “Up to my shop!”
Hacking and slashing at all that was before him, the barber managed a slow pace towards the door. The cuts his razor inflicted only served to slow the monsters. Though the blood that soon slicked the floor became more useful than the cuts, causing them to fall to the floor because of clumsy feet.
“Toby!” He snarled, looking back at where the boy was still stuck on the counter.
“Mr. Todd!”
Pulling the cap off of one of the gin bottle’s, Sweeney snatched a lit pipe hanging loosely from a corpse’s mouth, then ripped a piece of cloth from his shirt with his teeth. Hurriedly stuffing the cloth into the bottle, and kicking back all creatures that tried to touch him, he lit the shirt scrap with the pipe then tossed the bottle into the crowd.
The fire distracted them, allowing Toby to jump from the counter and dash towards the door. Sweeney was one step behind him.
“Mr. T! A bottle!” The boy cried, seeing a line of limping and drooling, glassy eyed men on the stairs towards the barber shop.
“I don’t want to waste anymore! Grab a chair from the tables.” He stabbed his razor into the base of one man’s neck, trying hard not to drop the gin bottles.
Doing as he was bid, Toby snatched a toppled chair and then dashed back to the staircase. “Keep away from me mum!” He screamed, bashing at all within arms reach.
“Get up the stairs boy!” Sweeney shouted, being pushed away from them by a massive horde of Londoners.
Not needing to be bid again, Toby knocked down all that were in his way and simply leapt over their still moving bodies. Panting at the stair’s top, Toby turned his back towards the door, ready to hold back the creatures that started to stand once more. “Mrs. Lovett!” He cried, hoping she would open the door. Toby heard a soft chime, and then a pair of hands pulled him inside.
Stumbling, he dropped his chair and watched Mrs. Lovett slam the door shut once more and lock it. She spun around towards him, looking frazzled and wide-eyed. “Where’s Mr. T?”
“I-I don’ know. ‘E jus’ said go fer the stairs- I did as he asked mum, I don’t know.” Tears filled the boys eyes.
“Oh hush love,” Mrs. Lovett took a swift step towards Toby and pulled him into a hug. “You did nothin’ bad love. I’m glad you'rw safe, doin’ what Mr. T said.” She kissed the top of his head, hoping to calm him down.
“They’ve got ‘im!” The boy sobbed, clutching his mum’s apron in a fit of despair. “I know they’ve got ‘im!”
“We don’t know that love, hush. He’s probably fine.” Worry laced her voice, and unbidden tears watered her eyes. She continued to hold him and stroke his hair, even as a low moaning reached their ears through the door, and distant screams echoed from down the street.
Toby sniffed, trying to force away his tears. “Mum?” He asked, voice quivering slightly.
“What is it dear?” Her voice was nearly a whisper as she leaned back, looking him in the eye.
“Why were there men in the bake house, wot wif their throats slit?”
She smiled at him sadly. “No ain’t the time love.”
“Bu-”
A muted bang sounded from outside, and the pair rushed towards the barber shop door. Peering through its dusty windows, they caught sight of a small fire in the crowd of people.
“Mr. T musta done tha’ mum!” Toby gasped, for once in his life glad to know the man was in some way alive.
Mrs. Lovett smiled in return, though worry was still in her eyes. Her eyes darted around, but she was unable to spot her barber.
There!
Her heart skipped a beat when she finally spotted him, crawling onto a table. He was drenched with blood, and one arm held several gin bottles close to his chest. The other arm sported his friend from his hand, somehow still gleaming silver under its crimson layer. Even from the distance, Mrs. Lovett could see the defiant snarl on his face, which meant he was far from accepting defeat.
“Mr. T…” She murmured under her breath.
--
Higher ground. That was what he needed, and the table managed to provide it. The once-men seemed to lack the motor capabilities of simply stepping up after him, so instead they stretched their arms and attempted to grab his ankles. Gasping for breath, he gave himself a moments respite, stomping on the hands and kicking at the faces of those who got too close.
Sweeney Todd had died once before, and had no intention of doing it again.
Though the distance to the stairs from his perch was short, the mass of people between him and the stairs seemed incredibly large. And admittedly, working through the lot was tiring work. Fire seemed to frighten and hurt them more the gashes, but he didn’t want to waste his precious gin resource too soon. Apparently decapitation worked well too, as he had come across a customer with a slit throat and accidentally removed the man’s head. The body had stopped moving, though the man’s eyes had still roved around aimlessly in his skull.
But getting close enough to cut off their head would be difficult. Not to mention the cutting off part, as very few of those below him had deep slits across their throats.
Kicking another man’s teeth in, Sweeney lost his balance and tumbled down.
--
“’E needs ‘elp mum!” Toby reached for his chair, but Mrs. Lovett stopped him.
“Then I’ll be the one goin’ after ‘im.”
“Bu-”
“No arguin’! An if somein’ bad ‘appens to the both of us, ya stay ‘ere. Is tha’ clear Toby?”
Toby held back his retorts, and instead nodded his head.
“Good lad. Now lock the door behind me.” Mrs. Lovett grabbed her rolling pin and reached for the door. She hesitated, turning back to look at Toby. He gave her a hopeful look, as if asking her to stay, but she simply smiled, and opened the door.
--
Chapter 3
Sweeney landed on his back, and managed to keep hold of the gin, though he lost all of his air. The drooling, glassy eyed horde descended on him, groping and intending to sink their teeth into him. He kicked and struggled, lashing out with his razor.
Stars danced before his eyes as he wheezed, in desperate need of air. What sounded like yelling and nasty cracking sounds suddenly started up in the distance, but he ignored them in his attempt to stand.
Nellie was, in no words strong, but no one could ever call her weak. With a hand gripping her rolling pin, she swung deftly at the men’s heads, more often then not sending them topping over the stair’s banister. She was pleased with the result of the sturdy wood against the monster’s skulls, glad she had never coped out when it came to her kitchen accessories.
Blows to the head seemed to effectively stun them, so that even when she didn’t knock them down she managed to get past them.
“Mr. T!” She shouted, reaching the bottom of the stairs. “Mr. T!”
A group of monsters had swarmed at the edge of the table where she had seen him last, causing her to fear the worst.
“Mr. Todd!” Nellie screeched, increasing her speed and amount of blows to all before her.
Suddenly a creature was pushed back, knocking several others away as well. Pulling himself up and holding out his razor in a hand, the bloodied bruised and snarling Sweeney Todd looked every inch a demon barber; and very much alive.
Nellie let out a shriek of joyous and mildly demented laughter, staring at the man with admiration as her weapon collided with another creature’s skull. His eyes flickered towards the source of the sound, finally noticing her.
Not even bothering with his razor, Sweeney pushed his way through the crowd on brute strength alone until he reached her. “Back to the shop Mrs. Lovett! What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing out here?”
“But-”
“Move!” He snarled, pushing her towards the stairs with his body. Back pressed against her body he began to walk backwards, trusting her to lead them towards the stairs.
Sweeney’s razor sang through the air before cutting through a man’s flesh, and was soon joined with the sick cracks of Nellie’s rolling pin on a skull.
--
Toby had locked the door as Mrs. Lovett had asked, but all kinds of fear still coursed through him. Was Mr. Todd really alright? Was his mum even going to survive the rescue operation? If they really tried, would the monsters be able to break down the old door and reach him? His hands gripped the battered chair he had used early tightly. Should he ignore what she told him and simply go out and fight too? Cold sweat coated his body, and he licked his lips nervously. Toby had heard the sound of breaking bones when Mrs. Lovett had exited the shop, but as the baker had made it farther away from the door, the sound had dwindled. Was she really alright?
A strange shriek that could have been laughter reached his ears. Who was that? What was that?
Shakily releasing his chair, Toby nearly ran into the door as he desperately peered through the glass. Mr. Todd and his mum were together! He closed his eyes and let out a relieved breath, when another thought occurred to him.
Why had she dodged around his question? How was the end of their world not time to answer it? If this was of course, the end as it seemed to him. Another thought caused his belly to twist with disgust. What was it in Mrs. Lovett’s pies that had caused the men to turn so? Was it some freak coincidence that they had gotten sick when eating her pies, or was there a reason?
“Boy!” A voice roared, pulling him from his thoughts. “Open the door!”
Jerking back to reality, Toby fumbled with the lock before yanking the door open.
--
Chapter 4
To call Sweeney a bloody mess would have been an understatement. He claimed most of the blood wasn’t his, but after limping towards his vanity to put the gin down and nearly collapsing on the floor, Nellie insisted to check on him.
Setting him down in the barber chair and pulling off the bloody and unsalvageable shirt, she shook her head with disgust. The blood had soaked through the shirt’s material, staining most of his pale skin red, and where it wasn‘t red it was purple with bruises. Her eyes immediately found several cuts along his arms, and several on his back.
“We shall ‘ave to use the gin ta clean ya up dear.” She sighed, reaching for a bottle.
“No!” He snapped. “We aren’t wasting any of it on me. Just hand me the bucket of water and a rag. I’ll be fine.”
Having to clean up his customer’s bloody messes more often than not, Sweeney always kept a bucket or two of water lying about his shop in case of emergency clean up. He pointed towards where one was sitting, expecting it retrieved.
“Mr. T,” Nellie sighed. “These might get infected.”
“Then I should go back outside.” He growled.
“No.” She snapped, Nellie let out a breath to try and calm herself, rubbing at her head agitatedly. “Mr. T jus’ use the gin on the cuts. Jus’ a little.” She begged.
“No.” Sweeney snapped again, taking the bucket and cloth form Toby who had fetched them. “This,” he dunked the rag into the bucket, “will be fine.”
Nellie rubbed her head again and grumbled something under her breath about men.
“Mum, are you alright?” Toby asked.
“Only a headache luv. Those things out there didn’t manage to hurt me.”
“Which is a relief,” Sweeney growled. “Why did you come after me? It was a foolish idea that could have gotten you killed.” Wringing out the soaked rag, he gritted his teeth as he began to clean off his arms.
“Ya looked like ya needed ‘elp is all,” tears started to fill her eyes.
“I got out of the mess fine.”
All happiness Toby had previously felt on Mr. Todd’s return was soon diminishing. His mum had just risked her life for him, and he was yelling at her?
“Jus’- jus’ doin’ wot I could Mr. T.”
“You could stay here.” He stood up suddenly, dropping his rag. There was nothing like the normal maddened rage in his eyes that normally accompanied his outbursts. Yet it took Mrs. Lovett several tears to fully understand what that meant.
He was worried about her. She hiccupped, and a tiny smile came onto her face as she bowed her head, taking his onslaught of words without a flinch. Toby frowned, trying to understand her happiness.
And then the door to the barber shop rattled as hungry hands pressed upon it.
Immediately snapping his attention away from Mrs. Lovett, Sweeney’s hand went for a razor at his side. “Brace the door with something!” Was the next things out of his mouth.
Hurriedly scrubbing at her tears, Mrs. Lovett looked around to find something for just that. With its mechanics, the barber chair was immovable, and the little vanity that held the gin wouldn’t do any good as a block, as it was too light. Thinking as quickly as she could, Nellie dashed for the door bad braced it with her back.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Sweeney snapped at her.
“Jus’ helpin’ Mr. T.” She smiled weakly at him.
For once his scowl failed him, and all he was able to do was stare at her. Having almost panicked at the sound of the banging, Toby began to calm down, seeing that the adults appeared to have things under control.
“Mum, ye can’t stay up ‘gaisnt th’ door ferever.” The boy mumbled finally.
Breaking away from the eye contact, Sweeney slowly bent down to pick up the discarded rag. “They’ll probably wander off eventually. Or at least move on when they can’t get in.” He stared at the rag rather than the room’s other occupants. “We’ll just ‘ave to take turns until then.”
“Keep fixin’ yerself up Mr. T.” Nellie said softly. “I’ll keep ‘em back fer now.” Her smile faltered as she felt each fist pound on the door through its frail wood. Though they could move on, it was more likely they broke in before that occurred. What would they have then?
A stuffy silence descended don the room, only broken by the occasional thud on the door, or the soft splash of water as Sweeney cleaned off the blood coating his skin. Toby had sat down by the chair he used as a weapon, casting continued glances between it, and the door.
There was a loud crack, and all attention immediately went back to the door.
“Mrs. Lovett!” Sweeney once again abandoned his attempt at self-cleaning and headed for the door, taking his razor from a holster and preparing for a fight.
Nellie gave a squeak of surprise as the glass panel by her head shattered, and a bruised and bloodied hand came through. Sweeney stopped in his tracks, feeling the old emotion of fear in his belly, fear for someone else. “Nel-” he choked down the name, determined not to say it. “Get away from the door.” He growled instead.
She didn’t seem to hear him, and instead stared wide eyed at the grasping limb.
“Mum..” Toby whimpered.
A loud screamed echoed out of the barber shop and onto the street as the remaining windows were shattered and several hands grabbed the back of Nellie’s dress.
“Get yer ‘ands off me ye grimy bastards!” Nellie frantically swung her rolling pin against all arms she could reach, but fear and panic began to overwhelm her as the hands gripping the back of her dress started to pull.
Sweeney dashed forward, stabbing wildly with his razors, splattering himself with blood once more. “Move, move!” He snapped, hoping that somehow the baker would be able to break free of the monsters’ grip.
Splinters joined the glass and blood as the thin frames between the window panes were broken. Toby was frozen at the sight, knowing his chair would be no good in such a situation. He suddenly rushed forward though, as the baker screamed again when her feet were lifted off the ground.
Focusing his attention on attacking all he could reach for the window, Sweeney nearly forced himself to ignore Mrs. Lovett’s screeches. They couldn’t risk opening the door as an attempt to push them back, if it was at all possible with so many swarmed behind it. He couldn’t risk touching her, even as an attempt to bring her back. All that would show was a weakness, a desire for her to stay, the possibility of caring for her well being and maybe even a bit of compassion.
Sweeney’s internal dilemma was nothing like the desperate grip Toby had on his mum’s arm, hoping to be able to pull her back.
There were a great deal more cracking noises and glass shattering as Nellie was finally pulled through the window like a great rag doll, rolling pin still clutched in her hand.
“Mr. T!” She screeched, kicking snarling and whacking at the hands that passed her above the crowd. “Mr. T!”
The barber and the boy stood in numb shock as the horde slowly drifted away from the door, carrying the baker with them.
“No.” Sweeney growled, wrenching open the feeble and damaged door. “No!” He attempted to run down the stairs after her, but a surprisingly strong hand grabbed onto his wrist and held him back.
“Sir, stop!” Toby pleaded. “Mr. T, look!” The boy begged.
Though most of the creatures had descended down the stairs with their prize, a great many were still wondering around the pie shop’s courtyard, and they turned their hungry eyes onto the barber shop as the moving group passed by.
“We need to get back into the shop sir!”
Sweeney ignored Toby, eyes fixed on the hissing spitting form of the red-haired woman. “Nellie!” He howled.
--
Chapter 5
She had fought and attempted all she could to gain her freedom, but the large amount of people holding onto her made it impossible to free herself from all of them at once. Nellie had been hoping her travel with the horde would have been short lived, and that Mr. Todd would have come dashing down the stairs after her.
He doesn’t care, he wouldn’t risk it. A voice had whispered to her. She didn’t want to believe it, and she didn’t want to hear it. In fact, she could have sworn she heard him shouting her name as she was hauled off. But that could have been a fancy her mind came up with on its own. After all, here she was, clutching a bloodied rolling pin to her chest and just waiting to be carried to an unknown destination.
Nellie tried not to focus on her mysterious situation, not liking one bit that the odd creatures were acting strange on their own accord. It added another mystery, which her weary brain couldn’t solve. All she hoped for was that Mr. Todd was keeping Toby safe.
--
“You little wretch!” Sweeney had his hand wrapped around Toby’s neck, lifting the child up off the ground. “Do you think you’ve managed to help us in anyway by not letting me go after her?”
Toby had been relieved when the man had finally decided to reenter his shop and slam the useless door shut. Now he was once again forced to realize what a dangerous man Mr. Todd was, and continue wondering why he had ever helped him, or hoped he lived.
He wheezed out a few incomprehensible words to Sweeney’s smoldering gaze. With a twist of his lips the barber frowned, dropping Toby and watching him fall to the floor.
“Get up.” He snapped, turning away from him.
Massaging his no-doubt bruised throat, the boy shot him an annoyed glare before complying. “Wot now?” He grumbled.
Sweeney grimaced at the boy’s tone, his fingers curling around the chair that had been used earlier. A great part of him desired to throw it at the child for having stopped him, and another part told him to try and view reason. The child wasn’t Mrs. Lovett, in fact, the only reason he was putting up with him was because certain death awaited him on the other side of the door. That was, it should, unless they decided to drag him away too. A great part of Sweeney doubted such a feat was going to ever happen again, but he wouldn’t be past trying if Toby was the test subject.
Instead of tossing it at Toby’s head, Sweeney smashed the chair into the ground, breaking off its legs. “We need to put some bars back in the door if we’re to stay here.”
“But wot about’-”
Sweeney turned towards Toby irritably, still clutching a greater part of the chair. The child swallowed, then nodded his head.
“Alrigh’ sir.”
--
Mrs. Lovett had kept her gaze up at the oddly blue and cloud free sky. A sort-of half sleep state came upon her because of the exhaustion and fright she felt, but her eyes remained open even when her brain seemed to shut off. If she had taken the time to try and notice and map her surroundings, she would have been less surprised when the horde beneath her stopped moving.
She also, most likely, wouldn’t have screamed bloody murder when she was dropped to the ground.
Clutching the rolling pin like a safety blanket, Mrs. Lovett eyed the drooling creatures nervously. They were simply standing about, staring off at nothing. She slowly turned, worried and intrigued by where they had brought her.
Her aching, trembling body went stiff with shock.
“This is what they brought?” A voice droned. The man sighed. “Come bring her down to see.”
Mrs. Lovett’s wide eyes showed all the emotion a dropped jaw could not.
--
“Mr. Todd, sir?”
Sweeney grunted in response.
“Wot do you.. Wot do you think ‘appened to mum?”
The genuine fear and worry in the child’s voice made the barber look up. Why was he asking, did he expect some optimistic answer?
No doubt he does, Mrs. Lovett wouldn’t hesitate to tell him all is well.
Of course, Mrs. Lovett wasn’t there, and that was exactly their problem. Whatever fate befell her, Sweeney didn’t think it was a particularly kind one.
“I don’t know wots happened to her. And if she somehow is alive, we’re going to need to think of ourselves for a moment.”
Toby seemed more surprised by the fact he received a response over what was said.
“We can’t stay ‘ere, can we?”
“No.” Sweeney snapped, he was quickly becoming irritated with Toby’s constant questions.
“You said we ‘ave to think of ourselves before we go fer mum Mr. T. ‘Ow is pacin’ helpin’?”
“It is much more helpful then your constant talk.” He spat angrily, coming to a sudden stop next to the boy.
Toby squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for another remark, or attempt on his life. None came. “Mr. T…?” He opened his eyes slowly.
“The chute.” The barber muttered.
“Wot-”
“Shut-up boy.” Sweeney marched over to his chair, and stomped on its pedal. He grinned at the dark hole the trapdoor opened into.
Toby stared at the titled chair and dark tunnel.
“You didn’t think I conducted business without help, did you?” He sneered at Toby’s horrified look. It seemed Mrs. Lovett was quite the charmer, and the boy had remained ignorant of her role in the whole affair. The fact the boy had finally shut up made Sweeney smile, but a strange bitter taste entered his mouth when he thought about how Toby would now see Mrs. Lovett.
--
Chapter 6
“Th’.. the men in the bake ‘ouse.” Toby stuttered.
“Yes.” Sweeney snapped, watching the trapdoor and counting in his head.
Seven seconds, and the innocent looking floorboards swung back into place.
“She.. In th’ bake ‘ouse… burns them.. by the pies?” The child was grasping at straws, trying to piece everything together, and though the speculations were wild in his head, he knew that he was omitting something.
“She doesn’t burn the bodies.” The barber, resuming his pacing. Seven seconds… “Not the entire thing anyway,” his lip curled into what could have been a smile when he thought back on the baker’s idea. Just as genius as the day she proposed it to him, he had been happy enough then to pull her into a strange waltz about the shop, a feat he was probably willing to perform again. Even if it was for that one simple idea.
“Th’ pies…?”
“Yes, yes.” Sweeney snapped. His pace became quicker, and a hand ran through his disheveled hair, making it look even more crazed. “Woefully ironic how the best pies in London are made from the scum of the earth.”
“I don’t believe you!” Toby screeched, and then pounced on Sweeney’s back.
--
Mrs. Lovett didn’t know how she moved, or why she wasn’t running, screaming, or struggling to get away. She simply stepped onto the premises of the garish home, feeling quite out of place with her bloodied clothes and rolling pin.
The judge gave the tool in her hand a sneer. “A baker?” He didn’t seem too surprised by the blood.
“Famous.” She choked out.
Turpin raised an eyebrow.
“Fleet Street.” Mrs. Lovett managed to say. The surreal situation, the calmness in which the Judge addressed her, well, it wasn‘t calming at all.
“Ah yes, I’ve heard about that shop.” A reminiscent sneer appeared on the man’s face.
A sudden rage boiled inside the baker when she realized what memories the judge was visiting. “O’ course tha’s wot ya think ya sick-”
The surprise on the judge’s faces and Mrs. Lovett’s nasty comment were suddenly halted when the Beadle came into the room.
“Joanna as requested lord.” The portly man’s eyes danced over Mrs. Lovett stiff and blood stained form. That look suddenly reminded her of her disheveled appearance, and of likely tears in her dress from her haul through the barber shop window.
Oh, Mr. T. A despairing voice wailed in her head.<
“…this?” The end of the question snapped Mrs. Lovett back to reality.
Johanna stood in the room, looking sickly pale at the sight of Mrs. Lovett. The judge had apparently been addressing her, as the young woman tore her eyes away to look at him. “Yes sir.”
“A baker? Nothing more.. suitable, for you new servants to retrieve?” The graying man sighed.
“N-not now sir.” The girl had started to tremble at the word ‘servants’.
Pity twisted Mrs. Lovett’s gut when her mind finally pieced bits of the conversation together. Judge Turpin had apparently made the disgusting horde as a strange gift for his ward. How that happened or why such a thought would possess any man was beyond her grasp.
“Shall I take her up to my room sir?” The young blue eyes darted back to Mrs. Lovett, mirroring her pity.
--
The air wooshed out of Toby’s lungs when he was slammed to the floor. Stars danced in his vision but the assault wasn’t over until his head was snapped to the side by a vicious smack. Toby could taste blood in his mouth and feel tears in his eyes, but he didn’t dare make a sound when cool metal was pressed against his neck.
“Don’t try that again.” A cold voice warned him.
--
“I..um.” Johanna’s hands fidget nervously, grasping at her skirts before releasing them. “I suppose…?” She stared at Mrs. Lovett, as if hoping the woman would somehow provide the answer.
Mrs. Lovett, still moving with uneasy stiffness, ignored the girl’s attempt. The room was small, but well lit and sparely furnished, giving it a larger appearance than it’s walls really offered.
“Would you like to.. change?” The blonde asked, her hands wringing together.
“Oh.” The baker stared down at her clothes, as if just noticing. About to say yes, Mrs. Lovett took in Johanna’s appearance before amending her answer. “It’s alright dear, I’m quite used to it.” Though the answer would no doubt ring oddly in the girl’s ears, Mrs. Lovett thought it would be better than attempting to squeeze into the much smaller woman’s garments.
--
“There weren’t many in the house.” Sweeney was talking to himself, but Toby kept his eyes glued to the barber, fearful the moment his mind strayed be would be asked a question. Not that his presence had really been acknowledged after the razor had been removed from his throat.
The not-so distant memory caused shivers to travel up the boy’s spine, reinforcing the fact Mr. Todd did not care he had threatened the life of a child. Though the act was not unprompted, Toby couldn’t help but wonder how the man felt nothing after actions. Toby’s lip was swollen, and his body trembled whenever Sweeney flicked his razor open and closed.
“They wont stay in an empty place, I think..” The barber continued, feet carrying him back and forth by his door. He would have preferred to pace by the window as he normally did, but with the threat the weak door possessed, it was better to stay closer to the action. “They’ve probably cleared out.”
Toby swallowed, and slowly gathered the courage to ask a question. “Wots this ta do wif the chute sir?” Despite the accusations and revolting truths Toby felt behind Mr. Todd’s words, he couldn’t think of his mum as an accomplice to murder. Mr. Todd took advantage of her love and made her do it, a voice whispered in his mind. For surely, if she had been doing it all of her own free will that would undo his base of reality.
Sweeney didn’t look at the child, though he answered his question. “We’re going to climb through down to the bake house.” How far of a drop was it, even if one could lower themselves with the utmost care? How far was the ceiling from the cold, brick floor? “They’ll be outside of this door still. We could sneak out to the street.” If they still aren’t in the pie shop.
Seven seconds wasn‘t a lot of time to lower oneself into a grimy tunnel and find footing; nor was ‘if’ a great basis for a plan.
--
Despite Mrs. Lovett’s assurances that the tattered dress was fine, Johanna fetched a new one for her. When the woman confessed the real reason she wouldn’t change was because she doubted it would fit her, the girl had blushed, and then sent for a dress. The Beadle had given them quite an annoyed look at the request, but hadn’t complained.
“Where’s it guna come from, I wonder?” The baker muttered, more to the rolling pin at her chest than the room’s other occupant.
“Here.” Johanna stepped out from behind a screen, forcing a smile onto her face, she hadn‘t heard the comment. “The bath is ready for you.”
Mrs. Lovett wasn’t all that sure she wanted to take her clothes off in the Judge’s house. When all she did was stare at her, Johanna sighed and stepped forward to take Mrs. Lovett’s hand. The older woman flinched at the contact, causing the girl to pull back in shock.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “Are-?”
“It’s nothing.” The baker mumbled, taking a small step away from the screen and the tub behind it.
“Some of that blood is yours, isn’t it?”
What could have been an ironic smile twisted onto her face. “Bein‘ pulled through a window might leave a mark.”
Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 7/ Part 8