When There's No More Room in Hell 2

by Luke Duffy

  "Whatever it was, it was big enough to rattle every window in this place," Lee stated as he looked around the room, studying the windows and ceiling.

  "Could it be the gas mains, maybe a ruptured pipe?" Karen offered.

  "No," Gary shook his head as he peered out through the windows and into the darkness. "It was something much bigger than a pipe bursting, darling."

  "What about the army, could it be the counter offensive?"

  "I don’t think so," Gary replied, still squinting into the gloom on the other side of the window.

  At that moment, heavy footsteps echoed from along the corridor that led from the top of the stairs. Stan appeared at the balcony, his face full of alarm and his chest heaving. He raced down the stairs and into the foyer as everyone turned to him, anxiously waiting for what he obviously had to tell them.

  "What's going on, Stan?" Gary asked calmly.

  "Something just blew up," he gasped.

  "Fuck me, brains as well as good looks," Lee mumbled.

  Stan ignored the remark and continued to try to focus on his words. "Something exploded up by the barricade at the junction."

  "At the junction," Gary looked at Karen. "Maybe it was the gas mains then."

  "No, it wasn’t gas," Stan shook his head. Clearly, there was more to tell.

  "Well, what was is then, Stan?" Sophie asked impatiently.

  Stan shrugged, "I don’t know what the explosion was but someone is shooting, too. We could see the bullets flying in the air from the roof. Sounds like there's a few of them," he added.

  Gary's face took on an expression of dread. The idea of having armed people running around so close to where they were made him think the worst: marauding gangs, he thought, but he refrained from saying it out loud for fear of starting a panic.

  Claire appeared at the top of the staircase. "He's right, I've just been up there but the shooting has stopped now."

  "Where have they gone, Claire?" Jake asked up at her.

  She shrugged. "I don’t know, the shooting just stopped and it all went quiet."

  Carl had already stepped out through the main doors to see and hear for himself. Gary followed him and joined him on the steps.

  "We've no weapons here, Gary. If it is someone that wants in, we're defenceless to stop them."

  "We need to lock this place down," Gary replied.

  Carl shook his head. "It won't do any good. Like I said; what will we defend with, sticks and stones? I think we should look at evacuating the park, Gary."

  A few minutes later, four more shots echoed across the open fields of the park. It was hard to tell for sure, but Gary thought that they had come from the rear gate area. He turned and ran back inside.

  "Okay," he shouted to the people in the foyer, "we need to get everyone together." He was doing his best to sound like he was in control but fear gripped him and it showed in his face and his trembling voice.

  "Get all the children and be ready to leave."

  Everybody began to bombard him with questions, all at once. They were frightened and the thought of leaving the safety of the park filled them with terror. He stepped over to Karen, his wife. She wringed her hands incessantly, which she always did when annoyed or upset. Her eyes were wide and they darted about the room, looking from one person to the next as the panic began to spread.

  "Karen," Gary said in merely more than a whisper, "I think whoever it is, they're at the back gate. They will be here soon. I think we should go, but I will not leave without you. If you stay, then I stay too."

  The sounds of the children, being dragged from their beds and asking all manner of questions, drew his attention away for a moment. They were being ushered down the stairs by their parents and Kieran, having come from the roof, closely followed.

  He made eye contact with Gary.

  "Someone's coming." He tried to say it without drawing the attention of the rest of the survivors, but they all heard.

  Gary turned and looked at the people assembled in front of him. They were out of time. The main door suddenly clanged as it was slammed shut by Carl and he began to lever the bolts into place.

  "No," Gary spoke, raising his hand up in front of him. "Don’t lock it."

  Carl turned to him, a look of exasperation on his face.

  Gary nodded calmly. "Don’t lock it, Carl. Like you said, if they want in, they’ll get in and they may take it as a hostile move if we barricade ourselves in here."

  Carl understood and nodded as he stepped back from the large doors. He moved across to where his wife and son stood, placing his hands protectively around their shoulders as they stared back at the heavy wooden doors of the house.

  The whole room fell silent as everybody waited. They stared nervously and expectantly at the entrance to the old mansion. The fear and anxiety in the room seemed to sit in the air like a thick and invisible fog as the seconds slipped by, bringing everyone close to breaking point as their nerves threatened to snap.

  Jake looked across at Lee. For the first time, he could see that the tough man was unsure and afraid. Sweat dripped from his forehead as he waited along with the others. Lee turned and looked him straight in the eye and nodded. Jake could see that, despite his obvious trepidation, Lee was ready to fight anyone that walked through the door.

  They heard voices approaching from outside, then the large wooden doors suddenly flew open, banging from the wall and shuddering as the impact reverberated through it.

  Two large and bulky figures stepped forward from the gloom, throwing a dark bundle ahead of them. It landed on the floor in front of Gary, yelping and crying as it hit the hard surface and curling itself into a ball.

  The two men stepped forward into the light of the foyer. They were terrifying in appearance. Their eyes shone wildly and their expressions were as hard as stone. They stared at the people before them, their eyes burning into the faces of each individual as they scanned the room, all the time, remaining silent and motionless in the doorway.

  Gary looked straight back at them. He saw the rifles in their hands and the ammunition they had strapped to their bodies, but he stood his ground. He was not challenging them, but he did not want to appear subservient neither.

  "Fuck me," Lee said hoarsely as he gaped at the new arrivals.

  The man in the front turned in his direction. He locked eyes with Lee and gave a slight nod of his head towards him.

  A commotion behind the two men heralded the arrival of more people. Excited and strained voices could be heard drawing nearer as they made their way up the steps to the house.

  A gasp from behind made Gary turn and he was just in time to see Jennifer crumple to the floor as she collapsed. One of the men at the doorway watched as Jennifer fell. He stepped forward and began to push his way through the assembled crowd and towards her. More people suddenly burst into the room from the doorway.

  Gary stepped back slightly, and then he recognised Steve and Helen.

  He, too, almost collapsed. "Steve," his voice was little more than a whimper as the tension was suddenly released. "Steve," he repeated, not knowing what else to say as he saw his friend, alive and well.

  "Daddy," Sarah squealed as she let go of her mother's hand and ran towards him.

  Steve dropped to his knees and caught her as she leapt into his arms. He hugged her tightly, not wanting to let go as the tears began to pour down his cheeks.

  Helen realised that most of the people gathered in the foyer were still holding their breath. They were in shock and unsure of what exactly was happening.

  She smiled at Gary as she stepped forward.

  "Well," she said cheerfully. "I suppose I had better be the one to make the introductions then." She swept her hand behind her, indicating the four strange men.

  "That’s Marcus," she said nodding towards the man that crouched over Jennifer with Liam and David hanging from his arms, "and these are his friends; Stu, Jim and Hussein."

  The three men still standing by the door nodded at the pe
ople that stood rooted to the floor of the house, slack-jawed and staring at them.

  "It’s a pleasure," Jim said in his Texas drawl, still clutching in his hand the chain that was attached to the goat. "We haven't named him yet," he said looking down at the animal, "but I was thinking something along the lines of, 'Lucky'."

  "How about calling him, 'Barbeque'?" Stu suggested with a grin.

  "No way," Jim shook his head adamantly. "He's mine and no one is eating him."

  Jake looked down at the bulky form on the floor, still whimpering and curled into the foetal position.

  "And who's this?" he asked.

  Helen nodded at him as she stepped forward. "See for yourself," she said reaching down, gripping the quivering figure by the hair and dragging it upright. She twisted her hand and snapped her wrist back, exposing the woman's face to the people of the house.

  A chorus of gasps echoed around the room.

  "Stephanie," Gary exclaimed.

  She looked up at him, her large face easily recognisable through the blood, grime and tears. Her eyes darted from Gary's to the people that stood around her, glaring back at her.

  "We caught her and that rat of a husband of hers at the rear gate," Steve said as he raised himself to his feet.

  "Jason, where is he?" Jake asked.

  "Marcus killed him and Stu managed to batter this lump of shit into submission."

  "They’ve been leading the dead to the park," Helen added. "They’ve been tying animals to buildings and fences, leaving a trail that led right to us."

  Gary was lost for words. He just stood there, staring at Stephanie in complete shock.

  "People are dying because of this fat bitch," Lee growled as he stepped forward.

  "It was you wasn’t it, Stephanie?" Gary said down at her. "It was you that sabotaged the fuel and opened the rear gate to let the dead in. John is dying because of you," he spat with venom.

  People had begun to edge their way forwards, towards her. Angry eyes glared at her as rage engulfed them.

  "Tie her up," Steve ordered as he saw people on the verge of losing control and tearing her limb from limb. "We'll deal with her later."

  Carl and Jake dragged her away and into one of the storage rooms, wrapping cords around her hands and feet and locking the door shut.

  It was late and most of the people had finally retired to their rooms, including Marcus and his family. He had wasted no time in getting away from the bombardment of questions that he knew were coming. He helped put his children to bed, and then locked himself and his wife, Jennifer, in their room and away from prying eyes.

  Stu sat on one of the large sofas in the foyer, his head thrown back as he relished the comfort of the large couch. Jim and Hussein were doing the same, smiling to one another as the realisation struck home that their long and arduous journey had finally ended. They could now relax, but none of them had taken the step towards removing their equipment, or even letting go of their weapons. Their assault vests and rifles had been a part of them for so long; they would feel completely naked and vulnerable without them.

  Jim grinned across at Stu and nodded towards the ceiling.

  "He's like a dog with five dicks," he said referring to Marcus. "After all these months, I'm surprised he didn’t need a wheelbarrow to carry his balls in."

  Stu laughed and nodded, understanding exactly to what Jim was referring. Hussein still had not come to full grips with the western humour and looked at them quizzically.

  "We thought you were marauders," Gary said with a smile.

  Stu chuckled. "That’s exactly what we are and have been for the past four or five months. How do you think we survived?"

  Gary nodded, understanding that the men before him had had to do whatever it took to make it through, all the way from Iraq.

  "We thought there would be more of you,” Jake added.

  Stu opened his eyes and brought his head forward from the headrest of the couch. He fixed Jake with an unflinching stare and slowly shook his head.

  "They didn’t make it," he replied in a low voice.

  Gary stood. "Would you like some tea or coffee?" he offered.

  Jim looked up at him and smiled broadly. "You got anything stronger?"

  With a whisky bottle slowly depleting on the table in front of them, Gary, Jake, Lee and Helen sat talking with the survivors of Marcus' team until late into the night.

  "What about the counter offensive?" Jake asked. "We've been watching the news reports and they say it won't be long before all the major cities are back in our hands."

  "Don’t believe a fucking word of that bullshit, my friend," Jim snorted as he drained his glass.

  "We've seen it first hand," Stu added. "It has been a disaster from the moment it started. Those troops are nothing more than cannon fodder. The dead are firmly in control now and the armed forces are in full retreat."

  Gary looked down and shrugged. "Then I guess that we really are on our own then."

  "Better that way, mate," Stu replied. "Believe me."

  Carl and Johnny suddenly joined them from the room where Simon and John lay dying. The expressions on their faces were as hard as granite and their eyes stared straight ahead of them as they approached the others seated in the foyer.

  Steve looked down at Carl's hand. He clutched a long screwdriver in his palm, the steel shaft smeared with blood that ran down to the handle and dripped from his fingers.

  "It's over," Carl announced hoarsely. "John and Simon are dead. We've taken care of them, they won't come back."

  Carl and Johnny both collapsed heavily onto the large sofa. Carl let out a long sigh and rubbed his face, sniffing back the tears that threatened to burst from his eyes as he struggled to keep his composure. His friend, John, was dead and he had taken it upon himself to be the one that drove the screwdriver through his ear and into his brain. It had been hard for him to do but he had reminded himself of the alternative.

  He knew that John did not want to walk around after he was dead.

  "Pour us one of those will you, Gary?" Carl asked, nodding at the bottle of whisky that was placed on the table in front of them.

  "A large one, please, if you don’t mind."

  30

  Robbie lay on his bed, smoking a cigarette and listening to the sound of the rain hammering against his window. The storm had been raging for the last couple of hours and rivers of water trickled down the glass panes and cascaded onto the window ledge. He always enjoyed listening to the rain, especially when he was warm and dry, indoors.

  There was a knock at the door.

  "Who is it?" Robbie groaned, not wanting to be disturbed.

  The handle twisted and the door opened with a creak. He recognised the silhouette in the doorway immediately.

  "Ah, Toby, what's happening, buddy?" he asked as he sat upright with a sigh, swinging his legs over on to the floor and reaching for his boots.

  Tobias stepped forward and closed the door behind him. He had a grim look on his face and he clutched a piece of paper in his hand. It looked as though the weight of the world was resting upon his shoulders.

  Robbie sat staring back at him expectantly. "Well, what's up?"

  Tobias sat down across from him, sinking deep into the armchair, which was the only other piece of furniture in the room apart from the bed. He let out a sigh and passed the paper over to Robbie.

  "It’s the offensive; it has ground to a halt." He paused a moment then added, "Looks like it will fail altogether, Rob."

  Robbie sat in silence for a moment and read the messages that the radio operators had intercepted and written down. There was no good news on that scrap of paper.

  Messages to and from MJOC showed that the simultaneous assaults on London and Edinburgh had failed. Worse still, all communications with the ground forces of the London units had been lost. Once again, it looked as though the high command had greatly underestimated the enemy, believing that firepower and numbers alone could defeat them and they had learned
nothing since the opening days of the plague.

  "What do you think happened?" Robbie asked looking up.

  Tobias shrugged. "Can't be sure, can we? And we're not likely to find out. Personally, I think it was a mixture of overconfidence, bad planning and the lack of experienced troops spearheading the offensive."

  He sat forward in the chair, placing his fingers together. "You know as well as I do that most of the regular army were wiped out in the early days of this shit storm."

  Robbie nodded. "Yeah, and since then they’ve had to fall back on boys and old men."

  "Well, you can bet your arse that there will be no reinforcements or support arriving for us now. We're on our own, Robbie."

  "What do we do, stay here or try to find somewhere else?"

  Tobias thought for a moment.

  "The first thing we do," he replied, "is get rid of the specimens from the garages. I don’t want those bags of shit living next door to where we sleep."

  Robbie nodded. "I'll get a few of the lads to take care of it."

  "No," Tobias stated, rising to his feet. "We'll do it, now."

  Tobias and Robbie made their way through the long cavernous garages. Their footsteps echoed through the darkness as the rain beat down on the steel roof above them, sounding like thousands of tiny pebbles being dropped from a great height. They could see the cage and the dim light that surrounded it at the far end. The grunts and low sorrowful moans of the dead drifted to their ears as they approached.

  The two soldiers standing guard turned to them and nodded. There was no need for any formalities like standing to attention for the higher ranks in the unit anymore. Tobias did not see it as necessary, even to the point where everyone was on a first name basis.

  "How's things, boys?" Robbie asked as he came to a halt.

  "Same shit," one of the soldiers replied indifferently, "different fucking night, Robbie. You know how it is. Standing here watching these pus bags isn't the best duty I ever pulled."

  Tobias smiled. He knew all too well some of the dull and soul-destroying tasks that soldiers have to carry out from time to time. He had done more than his fair share of them.