When There's No More Room in Hell 2

by Luke Duffy

  Kieran followed him along the garden path and out into the street, neither of them losing pace and sprinting along the road.

  "That nut-job almost killed you," Kieran huffed as he ran.

  Stan was beside him, his feet pounding heavily against the tarmac. "Yeah, but I got this as compensation." He hefted the large plastic bag in front of him so that Kieran could see the marijuana he had just claimed for his troubles.

  3

  The light shining through the window roused him from his sleep. The shafts of early morning sunlight beamed into the room; the particles of dust that floated through the air danced and drifted through the cascading light as they floated past the window.

  Steve quietly cursed himself for not remembering to close the curtains the night before. He tried to close his eyes again, but it was no use. He could still see the harsh sunlight through his eyelids. He could get up and pull the curtains across, but he knew that he would struggle to drift back off now. It was too early, but it was useless to try to go back to sleep.

  Lying beside him, Helen slumbered. Steve turned and watched her for a while as she slept. Even in her sleep, she was beautiful. Her black silky hair flawlessly flowed along the curve of her neck and across her shoulders like a dark river running along the course of a pale mountainside. Her unblemished skin glowed in the morning light and gave off radiance that Steve believed he could actually feel. It had been a long time since he had felt it, but he had no doubt about it: he was madly in love with her.

  The end of the world had come and Steve had found love there. It made him ask certain questions of himself. Would he change it? Would he give up Helen for the world to be as it was and the dead to remain dead? His answer was always the same. He believed it should have troubled him, but it did not. As far as he was concerned, the human race was destined to destroy itself, so why should he feel guilty that he had found a degree of happiness when it happened?

  You've been spending too much time around Gary, he thought to himself.

  He smiled and began gently stroking her face with the edge of the bed sheet, tickling her and causing her nose to twitch. He continued until her eyes opened and she instinctively rubbed her nose. Her eyes blinked in the bright morning light and then focussed on him. She smiled sleepily and stretched at the same time.

  "Morning, sleepy head, you come here often?"

  "Now and then," she groaned, "when there's nothing better to do."

  Steve squeezed her leg beneath the sheets, making her squeal and giggle as she squirmed and struggled to break free from his grip. Steve rolled on top of her, their faces close as his weight resting upon her. Her breathing was shallow and rapid and Steve could feel the heat between them as they pushed their bodies against each other. He leaned in closer and began kissing her neck. The feel of her soft skin against his lips made his blood rush through his veins. She writhed beneath him at the touch of his gentle kiss.

  A knock at the door interrupted them.

  "Yeah, who is it?" Steve called out, a tone of annoyance more than evident in his voice as he rolled off from Helen and onto his back, sighing heavily.

  "It's Gary." He remained outside and did not bother to open the door. "I need to speak to you, Steve. I'll go and make some coffee."

  His voice didn't sound urgent, but Steve knew Gary well enough by now to tell when there was something that needed immediate attention and he knew that Gary would never disturb him this early in the morning over a trivial matter.

  "Okay, mate, I'll be down in a minute."

  ""Right," Gary replied, his voice muffled from behind the door. “I'll see you in a bit for a brew, oh and good morning, Helen."

  Helen looked at Steve, slightly embarrassed as she stifled a laugh, "Morning, Gary," called out at the door. "How does he know I'm here?" she asked in a whisper as she looked back at Steve. She had a smile on her face that reminded Steve of a child that had been caught out stealing from the cookie jar.

  "You know Gary, he's as sharp as a knife; and anyway, it's a small world these days."

  "I suppose, and there is always the gossip. I've heard plenty of interesting stories and conjectures floating about in the kitchen when Karen is in full swing. I think she makes half of them up out of boredom." Helen closed her eyes as she spoke, a faint smile on her face as she thought of times past with nostalgia. "She reminds me of my grandma. She used to know all the comings and goings of the street. And if she didn't know the complete facts and details of a particular incident or person, she would make them up to fill the gaps at her weekly tea and biscuit mornings with her neighbours."

  Steve smiled and nodded to himself. "Seems that we all had a granny like that, doesn't it?"

  "Yeah," Helen replied with a sigh as she pulled herself away from the familiar sights, sounds and smells of her grandmother, "it was never malicious, though. It was just their way."

  Steve sat at the edge of the bed, arching and twisting his back, trying to loosen the stiffness in his muscles as he climbed into his jeans that had been discarded there, on the floor, the previous night. He coughed and a look of revulsion at the taste in his mouth crossed his face as he smacked his lips and ran his rough tongue around the inside of his cheeks in an attempt to encourage some moisture.

  "You got morning breath?" Helen asked as she stretched across the bed, the sheets falling away from her naked body and giving Steve a reminding view of the reason that he could not keep his hands off her.

  "Yup, I had a visit from the Bedtime Troll alright," he said with a nod.

  "The, what...?" she asked him, curious to know to what he was referring.

  "The Bedtime Troll, everyone has one. They live under your bed. Once you're asleep, he jumps up and brushes your teeth for you with his dick."

  Helen burst into fits of laughter. The mental image that she had just created in her own head because of what Steve had said was so vivid it was ludicrous. As she lay on the bed, still laughing uncontrollably, Steve went to the bathroom to wash. She was still red-faced when he returned five minutes later.

  "Bring me some coffee when you've finished chatting with Gary?" she requested, throwing him the doe eyes that she had come to realise could win Steve over every time.

  "Will do, boss." He pulled a t-shirt over his head and leaned over to kiss her before disappearing out the door, headed for the kitchen.

  Gary was sitting at the table with a steaming cup in his hand when Steve entered the room. As always, he looked as though he had been up for hours and probably had. His silvery hair was swept back over his scalp as always and his short white beard perfectly manicured and trimmed. Steve realised that he had never seen Gary in a dishevelled state. Even now, he still insisted on wearing his immaculate Park Ranger uniform with a sense of pride and authority. The end of the world certainly had not caused his standards and dignity to wane.

  "So, what's the problem then, old timer?" Steve poured himself a cup, pulled a chair out from the table and sat across from Gary.

  "Fuel, that's the problem," Gary replied, sighing and rubbing his beard against the back of his large, shovel-like hand.

  Steve looked up from his coffee and squinted. "Fuel, I thought we had plenty?"

  "Well, even with everyday usage, it wouldn't last forever, but when I was doing my checks this morning, I noticed a leak."

  "How bad is it?"

  "Bad enough. We've a fraction of what we should have and I don't think the leak has sprung naturally. Looks more like sabotage." He whispered the word 'sabotage' and glanced about the room as he said it, double-checking that they were still alone. In a close-knit community, with danger always present, both men knew that just that simple word could cause suspicion and distrust.

  A look of alarm crossed Steve's face. "Sabotage? Who would've done it and more to the point, what makes you think that?"

  Gary sighed and glanced down into his cup. He spread his hands out on the table and rotated his shoulders in an attempt to release the stiffness, which he was prone to in the mo
rnings.

  "Well the knife cuts in the hose were a bit of a giveaway. Not enough to be noticeable immediately, but the diesel has now created enough of a pool around the tank that the ground is turning blue. It's been slowly seeping out for days from what I can tell, maybe longer."

  "Shit, well, who?"

  Gary leaned back. "Hard to say, isn't it? It could be anyone; somebody from outside or maybe even here, among us."

  Steve bit his lip then sipped at his coffee. "Well we can start keeping an eye out on the quiet, but I don't want a Spanish Inquisition going on, and we need to work out what we'll do in the way of replacing the fuel. How long do you think we have left?"

  “I would say a week, maybe less. I've repaired the hose as best I can, but because the tank is partially buried, I can't give it a full check over."

  "We're going to have to get more then aren't we; there are plenty of stations we could use. Before that, though, I'd like to have an idea of who did it."

  "We'll look into it then. Anyway, anymore word on your brother?"

  Steve shook his head. He had been trying hard not to dwell on it too much. "Nothing for the last two days. The last we heard was the broken transmissions we got from him."

  Over the crackling and faint signals, they had been able to recognise the voice of Marcus. It was obvious that he was not receiving their replies because he kept on repeating himself and asking if anyone could hear him. Jake took over the radio from Steve and begun trying to tune the signal, but it had been no use.

  Marcus continued to transmit blind, informing them that they were on a boat and headed for the English coast. The messages were interrupted with static and hard to hear, but from what they could gather; Marcus and his men were pretty banged up. The word 'battle' and 'losses' were clear enough to understand and Steve, Helen and the rest of the people assembled in the little room were able to conclude that they had been through a rough time.

  Jennifer, though clearly worried, had taken it well. She knew that they still had a long way to go, but at least Marcus had survived and the fact that he was now in the same country was somewhat of a comfort to her. She held herself together and busied herself with chores and helping out where she could to keep her mind off it.

  Gary took a sip from his coffee then placed the cup back down in front of him. "I know it is hard, Steve, but at least he's alive and he survived the crossing. Maybe he's on the hunt for a new radio. We may hear from him soon, I bet."

  "Yeah, I hope so. That's a hell of a long way to have come though, Gary."

  Gary nodded. "A hell of a long way and with all this going on, it's a miracle that he has made it as far as he has. It is a testament to his resilience and determination, Steve. He'll make it through and you'll see him again soon, I'm sure of it."

  Steve felt comforted by Gary's words. The man never failed to put people's minds at ease around him. "Do you think about your own son?" He felt like kicking himself at the stupidity of the question.

  Gary nodded slowly as he stared down at the table. Without raising his head, he replied. "All the time, Steve, all of the time," The sadness in his voice reached deep into Steve and squeezed at his soul. "The last we heard of him, he was trying to get home."

  Steve could not find the words of comfort that he needed to give to Gary. What could he tell him, that it would be all right and his son was safe? He would not be able to bring himself to tell his friend such a flippant and blatant lie that he did not and could not believe himself.

  "I'm sorry, Gary," Steve replied. It was all he could manage at that moment.

  Gary nodded slowly and solemnly. "Yeah, me too, Steve." Gary shifted in his seat and took in a deep breath of air that inflated his barrel chest to almost twice its normal size. "Anyway, how's that little Sarah of yours? Is she still up and at them, good and early every morning to go and see the animals waking up?"

  Steve smiled and nodded. "Aye, without fail, it's her mum's turn to take her this morning. She'll probably be back soon going on about the lions. I think they're her favourites."

  Lee volunteered without any hesitation for the fuel run. "Count me in on that one, mate."

  "It's not a jolly that we'll be going on, Lee," Steve reminded him.

  "I know, but I'm not letting you leave me out."

  The prospect of a change to the routine of daily patrols and checks around the park was a welcome distraction for Lee. He was beginning to feel cooped up and the need to be outside the walls for a while was overpowering. Even though he knew the world was different and dangerous now, he still wanted a change of scenery now and then. Secretly, he actually enjoyed the danger and the rush of the outside.

  John, the amateur lumberjack, also offered his assistance. Since the killing of Tony, he had felt somewhat drawn to Steve and Lee, as though they shared a bond derived from their actions. He did not regret it for an instant, but the barbarism of the act could only be understood and completely accepted by those who had taken part. The severing of Tony's penis and it then being stuffed into his mouth was a detail they had chosen to keep from most of the other people in the house.

  Steve had not mentioned the subject of suspected sabotage to anyone when he told them of the future fuel run, but Jake did give him a questioning look. He knew that they should have had more than enough fuel without a resupply being urgent but he held his tongue with the intention of pulling Steve aside at a later time and getting the full story.

  "Where you got in mind?" Jake asked Steve.

  "I don’t know yet. I'm going to have a think over the next day or two while we have..." He was cut off mid-speech by the sound of whistle blasts and the pounding of feet and hollering as someone was racing down the stairs from the rooftop.

  Jake spun and ran toward the commotion to meet Carl as he bounded down the steps, the whistle still clutched between his teeth.

  "What, what's happening?" Jake had his hands in front of him trying to slow the big man down and get some sense of the situation.

  By now, Steve was standing beside him at the top of the stairs and a crowd had begun to gather in the foyer below them. Hushed alarmed voices could be heard within the group as they peered up the stairs toward the panting, and clearly distressed Carl.

  "They're in," he gasped, "they're inside the walls."

  Steve's expression turned to horror as the realisation of what he was being told hit him. He looked down at the people gathered below, frantically searching for his daughter. She was not there.

  "Where's Sarah?" he yelled as panic began rising in his voice.

  He sprinted back down the stairs, taking three steps at a time as he aimed for the front door to the mansion. As he cleared the last step, the large solid wood doors to the main entrance crashed open. The morning light spilled in and for a moment, Steve saw two silhouettes staggering through the brightly lit doorframe.

  It was Sarah and Claire. They threw themselves into the foyer, Claire kicking the heavy doors shut behind her then throwing her weight against them as she began sliding the large bolts into place to secure the entrance.

  Sarah ran straight towards Steve, her hands outstretched. She threw herself into his arms, whimpering in his ear and clutching him tightly around his neck. "Dad, don't let them..."

  Steve stood up, Sarah still wrapped around him, shaking with fear. "Shhh, it's okay, buddy, it's okay. I'm here and I won't let anything happen to you."

  Sarah trembled uncontrollably in his arms and sobbed with her face pressed hard against his cheek, her eyes screwed shut. "They're here, Dad. They're..."

  "I know, darling," Steve said as he rubbed her back reassuringly. "It's okay, they can't get in here."

  Claire had finished securing the door with the help of John who now began frantically checking the windows, ensuring that they were secure and looking for any sign of the dead approaching the house.

  Claire was breathing heavily. "They're in, Steve. I don’t how many, but we were up by the monkey pen when we first heard them. Thank God they weren't
quiet, we wouldn't have known otherwise." She gulped for air. "We had to run all the way back, but I don't think they saw us."

  Without another word, he passed Sarah across to her mother and turned for the stairs. At the top, he turned left and sprinted along the corridor, towards the door that led to the roof. Jake followed close behind.

  Steve stood, peering across the open grassland of the park, shielding his eyes from the morning sun. He turned his body through three hundred and sixty degrees as he tried to gain a panoramic view of the area. To the west and south, the wooded area containing the facilities and main gate of the park, all looked clear.

  To the east, the open fields with the animal fences in the distance, nothing stirred. He turned his attention to the north. The open fields gently sloped upward until they met the horizon. Then, he saw them. Silhouetted against the skyline in the early morning haze, Steve saw a line of clumsy staggering figures, mist swirling around their legs as they slowly made their way through the dew soaked grass.

  They were inside the walls, just as Carl and Claire had said.

  "Fuck," Jake said at his side as he looked through the binoculars. "I count about twenty from here. There could be more though. How did they get in?"

  "Doesn't matter, but we have to go and get rid of them, don't we?" Steve was already turning toward the door. He had seen what he needed, and now had an idea of the state of affairs rather than rushing straight out without a clear picture of what was happening.

  Grabbing his old trusty hammer and hand axe, he headed for the door. Lee followed and so did Gary, Jake and John.

  Helen had joined the others in the foyer and insisted that she come along too, but Steve explained to her that they had all the help they needed.

  "Besides, you're still in your underwear beneath that robe." He glanced down at the thick towelling gown that she wore and smiled. "Who do you think you are, Xena the Warrior Princess?" He winked at her. "We'll be back soon, I promise."

  The group moved toward the door as John began to slide back the bolts.