The Dead Walk The Earth (Book 3)
Page 26
“It’s really fucking good here, isn’t it?” Bull lamented in an almost inaudible whisper.
In complete darkness, not wanting to risk attracting any attention by using their lights, the three of them began to slowly edge their way into the cold tomb of the basement. They stared ahead of them using their ears and noses to guide them and warn them of danger. Each step was carefully and painfully slowly placed to avoid crushing anything underfoot or stumbling into an unseen object or, body.
To their left and right, although they could not see, they were strangely aware of the other rooms and doorways, as though they had inbuilt sonar devices attached to their senses. For Stan and Bull, after years of training and conducting live operations, it was not far from the truth. Their senses had become extremely acute to the slightest changes in their environment, regardless of whether they were able to see their surroundings. Gerry, however, despite his years of soldiering and having even served in some of the finest regiments of the British Army, had never refined nor acquired any additional senses. He was completely blind, and the only thing guiding him was the stench of rotting flesh and the barely perceivable footsteps of Bull and Stan in front of him.
The laboratories flanking them were silent and still. Stan was able to feel the difference in the atmosphere as he passed by a doorway. It was as if the air became thinner and tugged, minutely, at his body. At that moment, he would have given anything to be carrying a set of night vision goggles to aid him. With his left arm holding the pistol-grip of his MP-5, with the stock in his shoulder, and the barrel raised to his front, his nerve damaged right arm groped the empty air, feeling his way along the corridor. A few metres later, his fingertips brushed against something solid that was blocking him from moving any further. He came to an immediate stop and took a short step to his right.
Bull, sensing that something was up, stepped to his left, keeping his rifle pointed ahead of him, but restraining the urge to fire. Stan was leading them, and he would not open up until the point man initiated the contact. He waited, staring ahead but seeing nothing as he listened for Stan to indicate what was happening.
“It leads into the main labs and the holding areas for the infected specimens,” Gerry whispered from behind them.
“Does it have windows?” Stan hissed back to him, keeping his attention focussed to his front and his weapon in the aim.
“No, but it has a thick plastic curtain on the opposite side. Why?”
A few seconds later and Gerry’s question was answered as a faint light flickered to life ahead of him. He could now see Stan’s faint but familiar silhouette and the lightly coloured door in front of them. Bull was ahead and to the left of the corridor, his body appearing like a monolith resting against the wall. Stan panned the light along the corridor behind them, ensuring that they were alone and that nothing had followed them out from the doorways as they passed. The place was empty and silent, but they could hear the ruckus above them as the enemy troops continued their search. Stan turned to the door and then looked at Bull.
“Don’t look at me. This was your idea,” Bull hissed with a shrug.
Stan nodded and began to scrutinise the handle, checking on which way it turned and whether the door opened inwards or outwards. He checked the hinges and wondered if they were likely to creak or groan. He turned back to Gerry.
“Inwards,” Gerry whispered back to him, reading his thoughts, and understanding what Stan wanted to know before he needed to say anything. “The door opens inwards, pulling towards you. The hinges will click, locking the door in the open position if you pull it too far. Just half a metre is enough.”
“Half-a-fucking-metre?” Bull snorted. “What am I supposed to do, crash diet for the next thirty seconds?”
“Just suck it in,” Stan retorted. He reached under his assault vest and into his jacket, readjusting the files containing the launch codes and ensuring that they would not slip out. He turned and glared at the others. “You know, this is either going to go badly or very badly.”
“Head straight through, don’t make any turns,” Gerry instructed Stan. “There’s a door at the far end with viewing windows about two-thirds of the way up in the frame. They lead into a corridor that turns to the right and out into the loading area at the back of the command centre. It’s getting pretty light outside, so we should be able to see well enough, even without the power. Try to stick to the centre of the room. There’s all kinds of shit to trip over along the walls.”
Stan grunted his thanks and memorised Gerry’s directions. He exhaled, clearing his lungs completely and then took in a long deep breath again, allowing some of the air to escape from his mouth before holding it half way. He reached for the door and nodded to the others to confirm that they were ready to move. They turned out their lights, reverting back to their other senses to guide and warn them. Stan turned the handle slowly. He felt the lock shift and the door push back slightly against his hand. With a gentle and smooth heave, he pulled the door towards him.
A low moaning gust of fetid air brushed against their faces, carrying with it the distinct nauseating and sickly, sweet tang of rotting bodies. Stan stayed in position, frozen to the spot as he listened. He could hear faint sounds coming from within the spacious hollow. Huffs and scrapes as something moved through the blackness. Nothing lunged towards them, and there was no indication that they had been detected by the infected that were lurking somewhere close by.
Gerry had been correct. A small degree of light was visible through the windows in the door at the far end. It filtered in from the corridor beyond and gave them a reference point to head for. However, the remainder of the room was shrouded in total darkness. It was impossible to see anything in front of their faces. There was another grunt, accompanied by the sound of tearing cloth, and the wet smack of something heavy and moist dropping to the cold concrete floor. They did not need to see in order to know what they were hearing. It was the sound of a body being torn apart, its blood soaked flesh being ripped from the bones.
Stan, squatting low and holding his sub-machinegun aimed into the room, edged his way forward and in through the dark chasm of the door. Bull sensed him moving, and tucked himself in close behind his commander, with Gerry bringing up the rear. Within a few seconds, the three of them were inside and again; they paused and waited. The stink was even stronger now that the door was closed behind them. Sounds echoed from all around, travelling over and along the vaulted ceiling, becoming magnified by the acoustics of the room. The noises of smacking lips and lustful groans seemed to fill the space around them as the infected fed on the remains of the living. None of them had any idea of how many people had been down there and how many there remained, having reanimated as the walking dead. The room buzzed with the sounds of moving bodies and the endless low moans and snarls of the reanimated corpses that seemed to be all around them.
Bull leaned in close to Stan’s ear.
“You sure this is a good idea, mate?” He asked.
Stan began to push forward, creeping his way through the room and doing his best to remain in the centre, using the dim light at the far end as a guide. A sudden clatter and heavy thud to their right forced the three nervous men to spin around, their fingers almost fully depressing their triggers and loosing off a torrent of gunfire. A wandering figure had crashed into and over something, spilling medical equipment to the floor and creating a racket that clawed at the nerves of the men. A number of questioning moans began to resonate from all around them as the infected became curious to the origin of the sudden disturbance. The sounds of shuffling feet increased as countless unseen figures lumbered through the inky blackness, closing in on the epicentre of the noise.
After a short moment, Stan continued forward, wanting to get away from the converging corpses before a ring of putrid flesh enveloped them. Going by his own judgement, they had reached the halfway point, and the two rectangular frames of light seemed to be growing in size and brightness. He could feel his legs wanting to i
ncrease the pace and rush for the doors, but none of them had any idea of what lay in their path. For all they knew, the ground could be carpeted with dozens of the living dead.
As the scraping feet closed in, Bull became aware that something was moving close by, very close. It seemed to be paralleling their course and headed for the doors, moving at the same speed that they were. There was nothing that he could do to gain the attention of the others and warn them, and he could not risk reaching out to it. His only option was to concentrate on its location and remain aware of any change that it made. If it moved towards them, he would have no choice but to deal with the threat. He glanced to his front and at the doors. It was hard to judge their distance, but they were definitely making way. He wanted to run, but he knew that in doing so he could cause the deaths of all three of them. He swallowed hard and returned his attention to where and how he placed his feet and the moving body beside them. He could sense Gerry close behind him and hear his breathing. He wished that the man could control himself better. The noise coming from his nostrils sounded like a snorting bull.
There was no question that when they reached the door, that they would go ‘noisy’. They would be silhouetted in the light, and if the dead did not notice them immediately, they certainly would once the doors were opened, and the light was allowed to flood in. That fact did not concern Stan. By that time, they would be pounding their way along the corridor, leaving the room filled with infected behind them. They just needed to get there first.
The congregation of corpses met behind them. More thuds rang out all around as bodies stumbled into one another and crashed to the floor. Gurneys were upturned, and heavy equipment being tipped over thundered loudly in their ears. It sounded as though, in the confusion and darkness, the infected had begun to tear into one another. Howls and wails began to echo through the room as a riot broke out, the dead working themselves into a frenzy.
The three men increased their pace with just twenty metres to go before they would lunge for the door. Bull could still sense the moving body beside him. It had not turned to join in with the melee going on behind them but continued to match their course and speed. Something cold and soft bashed into him from his left, causing him to recoil and then collide with something else. The body to his right let out a yelp as Bull stumbled into it. It was the startled voice of a man. A living man.
A sudden heavy thump above them threatened to collapse the roof onto their heads, and shook the building to its core. It was not a direct hit but close. Bull ducked instinctively, and a second later the entire room was bathed in a brilliant light as the power was momentarily returned. He froze to the spot, staring into the wild and fear filled eyes of Doctor Warren, the man who had been creeping along with them through the darkness. His face was white and soaked with sweat. His lips quivered as he stared back into the fearsome scarred face of Bull who was crouched in front of him.
In that moment, Stan took in their surroundings. He spun around and saw Bull, Gerry, and the doctor all huddled together and surrounded by a wall of mottled flesh. The room was packed with the bodies of the dead. The skeletal faces and soulless eyes looked just as surprised as the men did at the sudden illumination of their settings. There appeared to be hundreds of them filling the space that they had just covered and trailing along in their wake. For a second or two, nobody moved, not even the infected. It seemed as though time had been stopped in its tracks as the two groups stared back at one another, wondering what to do next. A clang, followed by the scream of a woman from somewhere to the left of the room broke the deadlock. There were others in the basement that were still alive.
The crowd of bodies turned in unison towards the new sound as someone began to make a run for the doors. More disturbances rang out as people sprang from their hiding places and attempted to escape. From every corner, it seemed that the trapped people were grasping the moment, having been uncovered by the sudden light and making a bid for the exit. The mass of corpses seemed confused for a moment, suddenly being confronted with so many options that they did not know what to decide. Some lunged to the left, and others to the right, while the bulk of the group stood staring at the four men in front of them.
“Move,” Stan yelled as the room was cast back into blackness, bringing up his MP-5 and firing a long burst over the heads of the others.
Bull grabbed Warren and Gerry, flinging them forward as a number of arms reached out towards them. Bodies dropped to the floor, some killed by Stan’s fire while others, tumbling as they attempted to grab the men that slipped away from their grasp. The room reverberated with the cries of the infected and the bark of Stan’s sub-machinegun. Brilliant flashes of light captured the freeze frames of numerous corpses around them, their hungry mouths agape and their gaunt faces looming.
Stan turned and sprinted for the door as more rounds exploded behind him. A scream rang out as someone was brought down to their right. More howls followed as the dead set upon them, pulling and biting into their soft tissue. A hand grabbed at Stan, catching him by the straps of his harness and knocking him off balance. He twisted, bringing up his weapon and squeezing the trigger. His shots missed, but in the instant of light, he saw the grotesque and bloodied face of his target and adjusted his aim. Even amidst the loud cracks of the rounds, he heard the crunch of bone as his bullets ripped through the head of his attacker. The creature’s grip slackened and Stan pulled away, continuing for the door. He collided with Bull, both of them reaching the exit together and smashing their bodies into the solid barrier. They burst through and out into the corridor being smothered in light from the entrance at the far end.
Gerry was close on their heels, blindly firing his pistol over his shoulder as he dragged Doctor Warren along behind him. He came to an abrupt stop as he ploughed through the door after the others. Warren’s grip on his forearm tightened to the point that the circulation was stemmed. Gerry turned and saw the terror filled eyes of the doctor staring back at him, clutching onto his arm for dear life as a sea of grasping hands dragged him back into the dark room. Gerry raised his pistol and fired his last four shots into the unseen mass. They did nothing to help release the doctor. Warren was screaming back at him, still clinging to the material of his shirt and slowly pulling Gerry back in through the door.
“Stan, wait,” he screamed to the two men who had taken off along the corridor, leaving him behind to be hauled back into the waiting crowd of infected. “Help me. Someone fucking help me!”
He was panicking, pulling back with all his strength as the dead enveloped Doctor Warren, leaving just his arm protruding from their midst. The doctor was screaming now as an avalanche of gnashing teeth snapped down upon his flesh and countless fingers tore at his clothing and body. His grip remained tight, and Gerry instinctively began to pound his fist against Warren’s forearm. He, too, was screaming as he rained down blow after blow, hoping to break the man’s hold upon him. He felt the bones of the ulnar and radius shatter beneath his assault, and the shape of the limb become bent and deformed, but it did nothing to help free him. No matter what he did, he could not break away. He was being dragged back in. He dug his heels in against the ground and screamed at the top of his lungs for help as the others fled and left him behind. With gritted teeth, he kicked at the doors, trying to keep them closed, and preventing the horde from spilling out into the corridor and dragging him down along with the doctor. A sudden heave dragged him further into the dark gap, and his body slammed against the frame beside it. He could still hear Doctor Warren crying out with pain and terror, but there was nothing he could do for him now. He needed to save himself.
A sudden wet heat splashed across Gerry’s face, and his vision turned red. Arterial blood sprayed out from Warren’s body, smothering his features and filling his mouth with a warm iron taste. With a jolt, the right hand side of his body disappeared in through the doorway as the mass of corpses surged. He yelped as he felt a multitude of cold hands grab onto his arm. He began to scream manically.
“Come on,” he grunted, taking long bounding strides towards the shaft of daylight at the far end. “We’re getting the fuck out of here.”
Stan turned and followed after them, changing out his magazine as he moved and making a mental note that he was down to five fully loaded clips. He hoped that they would not run into any more trouble, particularly for any sustained amount of time. He did not have the ammunition to get into a drawn out fire fight.
Outside, Bull raced up the shallow ramp and leapt to the right, taking cover behind a wall and allowing Stan to catch up. The team commander was just a few seconds behind him and dropped down with a heavy thud and an audible grunt.
“That was fun. Can we do it again?” Bull asked as he checked through his assault vest, confirming his ammunition status. “Now what do we do?”
Stan gingerly poked his head up over the wall and watched the activity going on around them for a moment. Helicopter gunships were still circling overhead, firing their chain-guns and Hydra rockets into the last strongholds of the defences around the town. Geysers of smoke and dust, tinged with fire, were still erupting above the rooftops while tracers, glowing red and whipping angrily at the air, continued to pummel the men and women still fighting below.
On the ground, he could see soldiers moving through the streets, clearing the buildings around them with grenades and automatic fire. They were in the final phases of the assault and were now consolidating their hold on Newport. He knew that it would not be long before they completely invested the area, locking it down tight and ensuring that no one escaped. However, at the moment, and with sporadic fighting still ongoing as pockets of resistance refused to yield, Stan and the others had a chance to make it out of the trap.